Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

146 When his form was lost in the surrounding ob- security, I threw my arms around my father’s neck, exclaiming in wild joy, “You are safe! you are safe !” “Yes—saved by thee, my child!” he fervidly responded, as he strained me to his breast. ‘“ But what meant those strange words which produced a still stranger effect r “Question me not now, father!” I interrupted him: “but for heaven’s sake, speed away from London as quickly as you can!” “T ought to obey you altogether, Ellen, after what has occurred,” he said: “but am I not to fulfil this duty in respect to Lady Cecilia Urban ?” “No, no, father!” I vehemently ejaculated. “Perish all other considerations beyond your safety! Ob, the thought of what might have happened to you is horrible, horrible! Fly, father!—{ conjure you to fly! It is your own loving daughter who thus earnestly entreats you!” * And you shall be obeyed, my child!” he an- swered. ‘ Not fot worlds would I do aught that might tend to afflict your generous, your affec- tionate heart! But I on my side have something to entreat. Let not this marriage be accom- plished—promise me that you yourself will de- vise some means——”’ “T will, I will,. father!” I exclaimed, full of a feverish terror lest any fresh danger should sud- denly start up to menace my parent. “Oh, faithfully promise! Rest assured that the mar- riage shall not take place! And now fly!” My father strained me in his embrace; and he then hastened away, — while I sank upon the bench, exhausted by the variety of feelings that had experienced so strong a tension. When I was able to collect my scattered ideas and to deliberate on everything that had taken place, gratitude towards Zarah was amidst the dominant feelings which inspired me. To that gipsy was I indebted for the mysterious words which sayed my father from an infamous punish- ment, and myself from the disgrace that would have redounded upon my head. And then I be- gan to consider how much St. Clair could have possibly overheard of the conversation betwixt my father and myself. I knew that his ear could have caught nothing while we were walking together ; for there were no evergreens nigh amidst which he could have concealed himself. It was therefore with a deep relief and satisfaction that I recalled to mind as much as he could have overheard while we were seated on the bench. I remembered that this part of our discourse was confined to the cir- cumstances that regarded my father only; and therefore St. Clair had learnt nothing of Juliet’s secret, nor of my father’s object in visiting London —namely, the frustration of Lord Frederick’s hoped-for alliance with Lady Cecilia Urban. Issuing from the Park, I entered a cab, and was soon conveyed to Hunter Street. During the drive thither I continued to reflect upon the inci- dents which had taken place; and I marvelled what the dread import of those words could be— those cabalistic words, as Zarah had described them —which produced so appalling, so frightful, so terrific an effect upon Edwin St. Clair. Yet I shuddered at the idea that there must be some ELLEN PERCV; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. ee eee oOo ''_ On eae“ Ce ee ee that he could thus have been brought on his knees at my feet and forced to beseech that I would not betray him. It was indeed an astound.ng mystery to me; but again and again did my soul throb with gratitude towards the gipsy Zarah for the immensity of the service she had been instru- mental in rendering me. I had made a solemn promise to my father which I did not however see in what manner I was to keep. This was to prevent the contem-. plated alliance between Lord Frederick Ravens- cliffe and Lady Cecilia Urban. The reader is already aware of the stringent motives which ren- dered it necessary that the utmost caution should be observed in dealing with Lord Frederick, for poor Juliet’s reputation was in his hands. Still there was the pledge to my father; and still there was my own fixed desire, apart from all other con- siderations, to frustrate the views of a young nobleman who had behaved so infamously towards my friend. Not that £ had any personal regard for Lady Cecilia: the little I had seen of her on the night of the private theatricals at Ardleigh House prepossessed me not in her favour—while all that I had since heard of her from the lips of the Marquis of Dalrymple had still further tended to depreciate her in my opinion. Nevertheless, for the other reasons above set forth, I considered myself bound to save even that haughty beauty from sacrificing herself to the uuprincipled son of the Earl of Carshalton. I lay awake for several hours during the pondering the means of accomplishing my o on without suffering Lord Frederick to become aware that the hostility to his own views emanated from beneath the roof of Mr. Norman’s house. But at length sleep stole upon my eyes before I had fixed upon any one of the twenty projects which sug> gested themselves to my imagination. When I awoke in the morning I resumed my reflections upon the same subject; and I could think of. nothing better than the plan of calling upon Lady Cecilia, and binding her to the niost solemn vow of secrecy in respect to the authorship of the in- formation I had to give her. Having made up my mind to the adoption of this course, I resolved to set off early, so that I might reach her lady- ship’s house at an hour when Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe was by no means likely to call there. Lady Cecilia lived with an elderly aunt at the West End of the town; and immediately after breakfast, I went forth under the pretence of having some purchases to make in Regent Street. It was about half-past ten o’clock in the fore- noon that as I was crossing the very street I have just named, in order to reach Grosvenor Square, I suddenly encountered the young Marquis of Dalrymple. As I have recently said, I had only occasionally seen his lordship in his box at the theatre for upwards of two months; and this was the first time we had met since the day of expla- — nations in Hunter Street. A melancholy smile appeared upon his countenance when he beheld me; and proffering his hand, he said, “ You know, Miss Percy, that we were to continue friends.” “ Most assuredly,” I answered, with a frank cordiality, as I gave him my hand. “ And if it were possible that in any way,” he continued to observe with rapidity of utterance, stupendous sense of guilt in St. Clair’s conscience, | “I could testify the warmth and sincerity of my CONnMEOOO< Eom