Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

84 as possible. He calculated that he skould be alto- gether a week absent; and we both felt at parting that brief though the interval of separation was to be, we wished that it was over, and that we were reunited, to part no more! a CHAPTER LXxXI. THE POOR AUTHOR. Tr was on the day after Henry Wakefield’s depar- ture—and I was seated alone in the drawing-room, at about mid-day, Mary Glentworth having gone out on a shopping excursion,—when a domestic entered with the intimation that a person who gave the name of Jingleton desired to see me. “Jingleton!” I said. “Are you sure it is Jingleton? I knowa gentleman named Single- ton ¥ * But this, Miss, is a Mr. Jingleton.” “ Jingleton?” I repeated. “No! I do not re- member such a name. Who is this person ?” “He looks, Miss, like some decayed tradesman —or else a very poor gentleman; and he was so uncommonly polite to me, bowing and scraping, and speaking so earnestly, as if he really thought that it depended on myself whether he could ob- tain access to you!” “Poor man!” I said; for I began to suspect that he must either be an actor or else a dramatic author who had fallen upon evil days—for I fre- quently received visits from unfortunate persons belonging to those fraternities. I at once desired that Mr. Jingleton might be shown up; and accordingly, in a few minutes, a very strange-looking person made his appearance. He was about five-and-forty years of age—very tall and lanky—and very shabbily dressed. He wore a kind of shooting jacket; his pantaloons hung loose upon his thin legs; and the toes of his worn unshapely boots turned upward. His person was not of the most scrupulous cleanliness; and in respect to his linen, truth compels me to declare that his shirt seemed to indicate a suspicion of credit on the part of his laundress for at least a fortnight back. His hat was much worn, and had that sort of battered, broken appearance which implied that he was frequently in the habit of knocking the crown against the tops of doorways that were too low for him to pass under without stooping, and that he always forgot to stoop. It was quite clear that his garments were not very often treated to a contact with the brush; for though it was now most beautiful weather, to- wards the close of the month of June, and there had not been any rain for the last ten days, yet were the lower parts of the pantaloons spattered with mud which had dried on in spots. As for the expression of this individual’s countenance, it was that of the most servile humility blended with a certain under-current of conceit and self-im- portance, as if Mr. Jingleton felt that in reality he was one of the cleverest persons in the world, but that adverse circumstances had reduced him to the adoption of a meek, humble, grovelling de- meanour towards those of whomhe sought assist- ance or succour. On being introduced into the drawing-room, ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. Mr. Jingleton made a very low bow: then he ad- vanced a few paces, and bowed again: then he drew alittle nearer still, but halted to make an. other salaam; and then he continued to shamble forward in a nervous hesitating way, which was so painful for me to behold that I endeavoured to put the poor man at once at his ease by saying, “Pray be seated, Mr. Jingleton.” “Thank you, Miss Trafford,” he replied, with the most cringing manner and the humblest bow that could possibly be conceived ; and then in his awkwardness and confusion he missed the chair on which he was about to seat himself, and sprawled backward upon the carpet. T could scarcely help laughing: but compassion for the unfortunate man enabled me to exercise sufficient control over myself to restrain even a smile that might have been calculated to wound his feelings; and it was in the midst of the most painful confusion, and agitation, and nervous embarrassment that the poor wretch scrambled up. * Dear me, Miss Traff.rd,” he faltered out, “ to think that I should be so awkward!” “Oh! it was an accident which might happen to anybody,” I said. “Pray be seated, Mr. Jingle. ton! Take your time—tell me your business; and if # “Ah! “if, Miss Trafford!” interjected my strange visitor, theatrically extending his right arm, while his countenance lost somewhat of its expression of cringing humility: “that is the very point! That little preposition if, though brief to spell and curtly facile to pronounce, nevertheless often constitutes the most stupendous of barriers! Why, Miss Trafford, everything from the begin- ning of time seems to have depended upon an if / If Eve had not plucked the fruit in the Garden of Eden ~ “TI presume, sir, you are a literary gentleman ?” I interrupted him, with the hope of thus escaping from an essay or lecture which commencing at so remote a date, threatened to take a range which would prove interminable. “If Shakspere had never written,” responded Mr. Jingleton, with a most affected air of mingled humility and conceit, “I should style myself a dramatist. But who, Miss Trafford, in the face of the unapproachable Shakspere—who in the pre- sence of the bard who stands on so sublime an eminence,—who, I ask, Miss Trafford, would dare ¢ * Certainly not,” I hastened to exclaim; for my strange visitor was now gesticulating so fiercely that I feared lest he should be working himself up into a sort of poetic rage, for his eye was assuredly “In a fine frenzy rolling.” “No, certainly not!” he vociferated. ‘“ And therefore, Miss Trafford, I call myself a dramatic author, and not a dramatist. Mark the distine- tion!” and here he raised his forefinger, which he kept obliquely pointing at a distance of about afoot from his own nose and three or four fect from mine. “ You cannot say it is a distinction without a difference; for in less than one hour would I undertake to prove to the satisfaction of the whole world ¥ “No doubt of it!” I hastened to interject, “And now, Mr. Jingleton, would you be kind enough to inform me of the purpose for which I am honoured with this visit P” Gboo a on SC — - OC - (E(o) COLL