Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 93: what you’re looking at

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LE OR 80 hair would still curl in rich natural clusters about his well-shaped head — his classic features could have lost none of their delicate outlines—and there would still be a world of intelligence and thought in the handsome dark brown eyes. As for his heart, I knew that it was the same towards me, unchanged and unchangeable—for all the let- ters that I had received from him breathed tender. ness, love, and affection. In the midst of my meditations sleep stole over me; but I awoke at an early hour in the morning. I at once rose and commenced my toilet. And now I will confess that I looked at myself earnestly in the mirror, to ascertain whether the lapse of a year had effected any alteration in my own appear- ance,—whether late hours, the exertions of my profession, and a heated atmosphere on those nights when I had performed at the theatre, had left their traces upon my countenance? But no! —there was not the faintest sign or evidence of any of those marring influences! I was deter. mined not to deceive myself: I was prepared to acknowledge the truth of any tale which my moirror should tell. But I was only twenty years of age ; and was it indeed likely that my beauty had been in any way marred or impaired P No! ——and it was with a feeling of ineffable joy that I could conscientiously say within myself that never had I looked better. My complexion was as pure and clear as it was before I ever set foot upon the stage: my eyes shone with as great a brilliancy ; and the vermilion of my lips was as bright as in my girlhood. A little less of the Sylph and a little more of the Hebe in my figure, —this was the only perceptible change that might be associated with the lapse of the one year since Henry and I parted at Paisley. The reader must not think me vain and conceited that I thus con- sulted my mirror. What young woman of twenty, when being about to meet the object of her love after a twelvemonth’s separation, does not seek to assure herself that in person as well as in feelings she is as worthy of his love as ever?P—and who does not feel flattered by the admiration of that being whose approving smile is more precious than all the wealth of the East? If such sentiments as these constitute weakness, then assuredly was I weak on that morning when I thus stood before my mirror to ascertain whether there was the same luxuriance of the raven bhair—the same lustre in the large dark eyes—the same vermilion of the lips—the same pearly whiteness of the teeth! Yes —all were the same!—and I confess that my heart swelled with emotions at the thought that if my cousin had ever admired me for my personal beauty, he would be more than ever certain to ad- mire me now. When I descended to the breakfast-parlour shortly after eight o’clock, I said to Beda, who had followed me thither, “Tell Anna”’—thus al- luding to the parlour-maid—“to lay places for three; and tell the cook to send up everything nice that the larder wil! afford.” ** For three, dear Miss ?” said Beda. * There are only you and Miss Glentworth for I do not suppose that Mr. Wakefield will come at this hour P” “Depend upon it, Beda, he will come!” I em- phatically interjected. ‘ Within four-and-twenty hours aficr the receipt of the letter I was to ex- | ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. pect him. The ietter Came yesterday morning at nine o'clock: by nine this morning he will be here !” Beda’s beautiful countenance became animated with joy when she found me so confident ; and she hastened to superintend the arrangements of the breakfast-table according to my mandates. Scarcely had she finished when a cab drove up to the door: T rushed to the window Oh joy! it was Henry who alighted—Beda sped to the front door—in a few moments I was clasped in my cousin’s arms ! The heart of the reader must comprehend those rapturous feelings which no language has power to describe,—the feelings attendant upon a meeting such as this. Term it a luxury of the mind—the phrase falls far short of the real meaning which it is intended to convey! Term it an ecstacy of the soul—and still the power of a complete descrip- tion is wanting! As the Garden of Eden must have been infinitely superior in delights, and beauties, and captivations, to any other earthly garden which has ever since existed,—so were the feelings to which I am now alluding transcendent beyond all other emotions which the human heart can know. When the lips meet in the chastest kisses—when heart beats against heart with the purest though most thrilling sensations—when arms are thrown about each other’s necks, er hands are fondly clasped—when the lips being withdrawn, the deep earnest gaze is fixed upon one another, the breath fanning each other’s cheeks, and then the lips meeting again and again, and the bosom of one palpitating against the breast of the other,—when the tongue has no utterance for aught but broken words or fervid ejaculations—and when a holy ecstacy seems to en- wrap the soul, as if there were a sense of worship mutually offered up betwixt each other,—then is indeed a happiness felt which no language can adequately describe !—then does the heart expe- rience a veritable paradise of feelings! And Oh, for how many sorrows and fears, anxieties and afflictions—for how many perils passed through and mental tortures undergone—does such a period as this prove a recompense! It seems as if heaven itself often plunged human beings into the vortex of suffering, or dragged them through the fiery furnace of excruciating afflictions, in order that they might all the more rapturously appre. ciate the happiness of such a scene as was mine that morning ! Yes—Henry had returned! And all that my imagination had been depicting was realized ; for the lapse of a year kad improved his appearance and had constituted the last transition from a lin- gering boyishness to a complete manliness of look. On the other hand my own hope was likewise realized, when the superb dark brown eyes of my cousin were fixed upon me with tenderest admira- tion, and he exclaimed, “ Ellen, my beloved Ellen! you are more beautiful than ever !” Mary Glentworth presently made her appears ance; and I introduced Henry Wakefield to her— for this was the first time they had ever met. We then sat down to breakfast: but Mary seized an opportunity of whispering in my ear, “ He is even handsomer, Ellen, than you represented him !” , During the repast but little was said in the Gomicbook (E(0)