Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 371: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

eg a SS SS SS EY * 358 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, ‘ offended with him, Ellen,” continued Sarah; “ for I know how enthusiastic is his disposition, and I can easily comprehend how he may have suffered the glowing fervour of his love and admiration and worship to carry him away! But believe me, there is not a better principled young man—no, nor a& loftier-minded one on the whole face of the earth! It is not because he is my brother es “Enough, my dear Sarah!” I said: “ we will not pursue this topic.” She instantaneously changed the subject; and nothing further occurred between us on that occa- sion to require mention in the pages of my narrative. When [ retired to my own chamber for the night, I could not help mentally ejaculating, “ What singular beings are we mortal creatures !—how capable of dissimulation is mankind! and how little able are some individuals to read the hearts of others! Here are a brother and sister who enter- tain the highest opinion of each other, and yet both of whom are more or less fallen creatures! The brother places his sister on the very highest pedes- tal of virtue :—Ob, if he could draw away the veil and read the secrets that lie behind, what would he think! How bewildering would be his consterna- tion i were to learn that this sister whom he deems so pureand chaste, is in reality a degraded and dishonoured young woman! Or, onthe other hand, if she herself could but penetrate into the mysteries of her brother’s heart, and read all the dark pas- sions which agitate therein—if she could fathom all the profundities of his soul and discern the iniqui- ties of which he is capable,—how terribly would the blow strike her! and what a fearful shock would her confidence in human nature experience! Of, after all, it was a wise dispensation of the Creator that it should be thus difficult for the eyes of one individual to penetrate into the heart of another!” Having stayed two or three days at Tremaine Hall, I returned to Carshalton, accompanied by Beda. I found the Earl and Countess impatiently awaiting my arrival; for it seemed as if they could scarcely now exist without me; and such indeed was the assurance which I received from their lips. They spoke to me of living with them altogether: they vowed that I had been to them as a daughter during the period of their bitter distress; that it was therefore as a daughter they loved me, and they besought that I would never think of again return- ing to the stage. Iwas almost on the point of seizing that opportunity to speak to the Karl and Countess in reference to the Wakefield matters: but I thought it was yet scarcely time, because their thoughts were naturally still full of the immense bereavement they had so recently sustained. I thanked them for all the kind things they said to me; but I gave no pledges in respect to taking up my abode altogether with them. I treated the sub- ject with what may be termed a species of delicate evasiveness. It was on the day after the return to Car- shalton from Tremaine Hall, that the incident which I am about to describe took place. It was the hour of noon: Beda and I were together in a sitting-apartment which was specially appro- priated to my own use when I chose to retire thither ; and we were discussing some of the mr of ed recent events that had occurred, when the soun a vehicle advancing towards the mansion, rea our ears. On glancing through the window, we beheld a postchaise dashing along the avenue; and ina few moments the equipage drew up at the front entrance. “Tt seemed to me to contain but one person,” | said ; “ and that was a lady.” **T’he same idea struck me,” answered Beda. We retired from the window, thinking that the arrival could in no way concern ourselves ;—and I should observe that by the position of the case- ment it was impossible to obtain a view of any person who might alight at the front entrance. Scarcely a minute had elapsed when the door was thrown open ; and who should make her appear- ance but Jane Parks! With an ejaculation of joy I bounded towards her; for that joy was twofold. In the first place her presence promised to clear up the mystery of her protracted silence in refer- ence to the letter I had written to her; and in the second place I was smitten with the hope that she had some good tidings to communicate. “* My dear Ellen,” she exclaimed, embracing me fervidly, “did you think that I had neglected you, or that I had proved ungrateful ?” “ No, no! I felt convinced that you had not!” I replied. “I thought that you might have been absent. from London—or that you had changed your lodgings é- 4) “Neither the one nor the other !” interrupted Jane. “I received your letter at the proper date “ | ** And perhaps you answered it,” I said, “and your letter may have miscarried ?” “No—TI did not answer it by letter,” she re- joined. “I am answering it now personally! Oh, I will not keep you in suspense! I have ob- tained all the information you desire ; and heaven grant that the result may turn out as my father now feels assured that it will !’ “What mean you, dear Jane? what mean you P” I inquired, with feverish impatience. * Look, Ellen!—look! Read yourself !” she ejaculated ; and she produced a small’packet sealed and directed to me. I tore it open : a few minutes sufficed to glance over the documents it contained ; and throwing my arms round my friend’s neck, I embraced her warmly,—murmuring, “ Dearest Jane! you have rendered me a service which I never, never shall forget !” “Oh! did I not owe you the deepest, deepest debt of gratitude, Ellen?” exclaimed Miss Parks ; “and did I not rejoice when the arrival of your letter appeared to furnish me with the means of testifying my devotedness towards you? My father declared to me, on perusing your letter, | that he thought he might possibly discover a clue towards the elucidation of the two points that had to be cleared up. He remembered to have heard your grandfather say something in reference to the Wakefields many long years ago; but it had lain dormant in his memory until your letter re- vived the recollection—and he promised me to set to work at once. To be brief, he did so: but the task was a longer one than he had at first antici- pated. And Oh! _ should have written to you, Ellen !—I kept blaming myself day after day for keeping you in suspense : but I thought to myself that if my father should succeed, it would ba such a happy, happy moment for me when I might surprise you——” . EORMIELOOO; KSEE)