Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 393: what you’re looking at

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

—_—— —_—_. 380 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, the fine dark eyes of Beda light up with an ex- pression of ineffable joy as she felicitated me upon being rich again! But at the expiration of those three weeks where was 1? I am about to explain. It was verging towards the end of April; and I was an inmate of the principal hotel at Boulogne. I had been there a day or two: I was alone—I had devised some excuse for not bringing Beda with me: indeed she did not know but that I had again left London for the purpose of returning to River House. But why was I now at Boulogne? what business had taken me thither ? whom did I expect to meet P The curiosity of the reader shall be satisfied without delay; for it was none other than Herbert Dalrymple whom I was to meet at that hotel in Boulogne on that particular occasion whereof I am writing. Before I continue the thread of my narrative, I must likewise add that I had written to the Mar. quis, who was at Naples at the time, to meet me at Boulogne ; and hence the appointment which was now being kept, was made by myself. It was about the hour of noon, on the 23rd of April, when the young Marquis was introduced to the apartment which I occupied in the hotel. Scarcely even giving time for the waiter to close the door after having announced him, he sprang towards me, exclaiming, “ For heaven’s sake, Miss Percy, put me out of suspense! Why have you Sent for me thus strangely and mysteriously ? Tell me, I conjure you, has anything happened to poor Mary ?” “ Now, my lord,’ I answered, “you have need of all your fortitude—if you have in reality enter- tained towards my poor friend that strong affec- tion " “Good heavens! I read it all!” ejaculated the young Marquis, with a sudden outburst of pas- sionate grief. ‘ Mary is no more !” I averted my countenance and said nothing. Herbert flung himself upon a sofa; and burying his face in his hands, remained profoundly till and silent for several minutes. At length he slowly rose from his seat, and taking my hand, he said, “ When did this happen, Miss Percy? Tell me the date of the fatal calamity which has de- prived us of her whom we both so sincerely loved !” “Tt was nearly three weeks back—at the time when I wrote to you.” “ But Oh! why did you write so vaguely ? why leave me in such cruel suspense?” exclaimed the young nobleman. “I of course comprehended that something had happened, or that evil tidings were in store for me: but I could not conceive what it might be. I thought perhaps Mary’s mind had altered ;—occasionally the dread idea did flash across my brain that death had: perhaps done its awful work; but I quickly repudiated the sup- position as something too terrible to be true! Oh, why did you leave me, I ask, in that horrible un- certainty ?” “Do not blame me, my lord!—do not blame me, I conjure you,” I said, “ for the course which I adopted! It was from the best and kindest motives—— “Oh, I know it! I know it!” cried the young nobleman: “but, Oh! my mind is in that state I feel as if it can-only be relieved by throwing an > angry blame upon some one! God knows, Miss Percy, that you ought to be the last person on earth to be made the victim of my capricious grief!” . “No apology is necessary,” I interrupted him. “I can make every allowance for the state of your feelings.” “Alas! that poor Mary should have gone thus!” he moaned, in a voice of bitter lamenta- tion: and now he pressed his hand to his brows. _“ Be consoled,” I said; “be consoled, my lord!” —and I voluntarily took his other hand in both mine own, as I gazed up into his countenance, where a real and unmistakable grief was ex- pressed. “You know, Miss Percy,” he said, “ how ear- nestly repeated have been my assurances from time to time that I loved Mary devotedly—that I wouid fulfil my promise towards her we “IT know it, my lord,” I interrupted him. “ But Ah! perhaps itis more as an honourable man that you are now grieving, than as a disconsolate lover? —it is because death has deprived you of the power and opportunity of fulfilling the pledges which you made ?” “ No, no, Miss Percy!” exclaimed Herbert, with sudden vehemence; “ you wrong me by the words you have just spoken—although I am well aware that you had no studied intention to wound my feelings, and that the language which passed from your lips was intended to convey consolation. But you have misunderstood me! If I now pine for Mary’s loss, it is because I really loved—yes, loved her truly and sincerely! Oh, could you possibly doubt it?’—and now the tears flowed thick and fast down his cheeks. I again turned aside, for this scene was a very painful one for me; and bitterly did I repent haviog undertaken the task. “Tell me,” resumed Herbert, after a long pause, during which he dried his ‘tears, “ was Mary sen- sible in her last moments?—did she breathe my name? did she leave behind her any tender mes- sage for one who was little dreaming at the time of the fearful calamity which was destined to smite him,—ruining his hopes and wrecking his hap- piness P” “* My lord,” I said, in a low and tremulous voice, “if I were to tell you that poor Mary in her last moments besought me to convey to you the as- surance of her fondest and most devoted love— and if I have to add that she said she was happy in dying thus prematurely, because she feared that if she lived to become your wife your happi- ness would be compromised if not ruined alto- gether “ Did Mary say all this?” asked Herbert: and again was the white kerchief applied to his eyes. “If I were to tell you,” I continued, “ that Mary declared her conviction that heaven itself had interfered for the express purpose of prevent- ing you from making the most generous of sacri- fices on her behalf—and if, in purusing the narra- tive, I were to inform you that Mary died con- tented and happy, confident that her departure from this world would prove the means of securing your felicity in the long run by preventing you from making a sacrifice which sooner or later you could not possibly fail to repent —~” “Oh! if it were thus that Mary spoke upon her EORNIE OOOKS (CO)