Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 392: what you’re looking at

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-- oo | secret should be thus kept, and that the mystery should be surrounded with all possible defences! For from you nothing has been hidden!—you who are“already so well acquainted with everything | ‘relating to Mary Glentworth, were not to be kept in the dark in reference to this, although it is assuredly the most serious episode of her life!” ‘“‘ And having been fully taken into Miss Glent- ‘worth’s confidence,” returned Mr. Singleton, * it has been my duty and desire to deserve it. Yes— the secret will be duly kept; and when the young lady goes forth into the world again, she may hold her head erect: and she need entertain little fear that when she becomes the bride of the Marquis of Dalrymple, there will be any looks fixed upon her calculated to remind her of the secret and to call up the blushes to her cheeks,” “I sincerely hope, Mr. Singleton.” I said, “ that all these presages on your part may be fulfilled.’’ ‘No doubt of it!” ejaculated the surgeon. “ The domestics beneath this roof are all completely trustworthy. ‘hey are devoted to their young mistress Lady Frederick Ravenscliffe, and they will therefore do anything for her friend Mary. I do verily believe that not a whisper concerning the real truth has got abroad in the neighbourhood. If there were, it would be sure to have reached my ears or those of my wife.” “Certainly,” I interjectingly said; “and there~ fore we must congratulate ourselves on the fact that the domestics beneath this roof are so little given to gossiping and tittle-tattle. But there is perhaps a still more important point of considera- tion ; and this is the trustworthiness of the persons to whom the child, if it live, is to be consigned.” “ Ah, my dear Miss Percy !” interrupted Single- | ton, surveying me with a mysterious look, “1 see, . that you are not well instructed on the particular point. You must either have misunderstood Lady Frederick and Miss Glentworth— or else they cannot have touched upon the point at all.” “To tell you the truth, Mr. Singleton,” I re- joined, “there were other subjects of so grave a character pressing on my attention—alike yester- day evening after my arrival, and throughout this day—that perhaps I have not paid quite as much attention as I ought to the details of the arrange- ments made for the assurance of my friend Mary’s tranquillity and peace in reference to this mo- mentous secret. But I know this much—that the child is to be disposed of a week or two after its birth, in a manner that is so far consistent with tenderness and humanity as the peculiar cir- cumstances of the case will permit.” “ Most assuredly,” answered Singleton. “ The child will be consigned to strangers, and will be brought up by them under whatsoever name they may choose to bestow upon it.” “And those persons must be trustworthy !” I interjected. “Suppose we adopt a course,” said Mr. Single- ton, “which will render it quite immaterial whether they are trustworthy or not? I mean to say ” “I begin to understand!” I said: “those per- sons are not to know whose child it is, nor from whence it comes P” “ Precisely so,” answered the surgeon. “ I have already made my arrangements. I have a brother, a clergyman, as you are aware: he has by some. ~ — BLLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 379 means or another—without in any way compro- mising himself—found out a couplé who will take care of the child, and adoptit on certain pecuniary terms which have been agreed upon. In about a fortnight—always supposing the child lives—my wife will take it up to London: an appointment will be made for the woman who is about to adopt the infant, to meet Mrs. Singleton on some par- ticular spot at a stated hour:—the one will re- ceive the child from the arms of the other—and everything will be thus settled !” * Alas,” I said, ‘it isa sad thing to reflect that @ poor innocent little being is to be taken from its mother’s bosom and conveyed amongst strangers!” “ But how can it be otherwise in the present ease?” asked Mr. Singleton. ‘ Not even you, Miss Percy, with all your rigidly scrupulous notions of propriety and virtue, could possibly argue that Mary Glentworth is bound to sacrifice herself completely on behalf of a child born under such circumstances! Very, very different would it be if this child were the offspring of a moment of weakness when love and passion induced her to yield to the temptation! But she became the victim of a villain, who struck her down, as it were, with a poisoned flower—and she awoke to find herself dishonoured! Nature implants strong feelings in the bosoms of mothers towards their offspring, even though these were the children of shame: but then that shame has been as it were a voluntary fault—and the love which the yielding woman felt towards her seducer, has survived the shock of his inconstancy, to live in the shape of tenderness towards the child. But how different is it in this case !” “T know it, Mr. Singleton,” E interrupted him. *“T cannot fora moment blame Mary Glentworth that she should disown and abandon her child.” “You could not even be surprised,” added Mr. Singleton, “if she were to hate it?” I made no answer to this question, and he went on to say, “ You know what feeling of bitter, burn- ing hatred she entertains towards the author of her dishonour—a hatred so condensed and con- centrated “Tt know it! I know it, Mr. Singleton!” I ejaculated. “ But let us not talk upon the sub- ject.” “J was only about to mention one more fact,” said the surgeon; “‘and this is, that the woman who feels so bitter and burning a hatred towards the father of the child, can scarcely fail to view the child itself with aversion.” Here the discourse ended; and Mr. Singleton repaired to the chamber occupied by Mary Glent- worth. My narrative is now on the point of taking a most extraordinary leap; or at least the reader may consider it to be so, though he will hereafter in due course discover the motive. But let us suppose three weeks to have passed away since the date of which I have just been writing,—three weeks since I received the intelligence of the re- storation of my fortune,—three weeks since that discourse with Mr. Singleton which I have just placed upon record. And during these three weeks I returned to Great Ormond Street—lI ree visited my friends in London—Il received their congratulations on account of the wealth that had come back into my hands. Yes—and I had seen CORnNICLOO® oe SS (SO)