Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 221: what you’re looking at

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

-_—oe—a —-—™ a ttillinso Le lt he -_ — = — eee 208 — arms? And then, too, in respect to Luigi—how transparent, how poor, how wretched is the expla- nation which your letter conveyed to me upon that point! I have questioned Luigi; and with an unmistakable frankness he at once informed me what had happened, A note was handed to him by a stranger, to be delivered to you. Without suspecting aught wrong — and in the proper dis- charge of his menial duty—he handed you that note. You perused it; and ke, waiting for any commands that you might have to give, was asto- nished to behold how the flush of a wild joy overspread your countenance, You said that there was no reply; and Luigi retired accordingly. It is in vain, vile woman, that you have sought to throw discredit upon a tried and faithful servant! You are guilty; and immense as your crime has been, so shall my vengeance now prove propor- tionately terrible !’—It was thus that the Count of Carboni spoke.” “Ob, what a fearful combination of circumstan- tial evidences!” murmured the Marchioness of Campanella, as she lavished consolatory caresses upon her sister. “ Suffer me to bring this hideous narrative to a conclusion,” resumed Beatrice: “it will not last much longer. I have just given you the details of that speech which the Count of Carboni ad- dressed to me: but, as you may readily suppose, I frequently interrupted it with ejaculations indig- nantly repelling the various constructions. he put upon my conduct in every progressive step of that fatal drama. Vain were my representations: I might as well have endeavoured to bid the storm of heaven itself be still, or with my breath to lull the fury of the waves of a turbulent ocean, as to seck to justify myself and assuage the feelings of the Count. He believed me guilty; and he pro- ceeded to execute his terrible threat of vengeance. @ie bade me follow him; and I obeyed mechani- cally. He led me to an apartment on a higher storey; and as we entered, I observed a large screen spread open before the door. That door the Count locked, placing the key in his pocket. He then drew back the screen; and,O God! what a spectacle burst upon my view! For there— suspended to the ceiling, in the place where an enormous chandelier was wont to hang—appeared the body of the unfortunate Angelo Marano!’”’ “ By heaven!” exclaimed the Marquis of Cam- panella, “it was atrocious—it was abominable! Even though the Count believed you guilty, Beatrice, his conduct was infamous and diaboli- cal !” The Marchioness of Campanella was so much affected for some minutes that Beatrice was to this extent delayed in the recital of her awful narra- tive. At length however she proceeded in the following strain :— “T threw myself frantically on my knees at the feet of the Count, beseeching him to release me from the contemplation of that appalling spec- tacle: but Oh! the implacable words which he addressed to me !—‘ You shall remain here! you, the living woman, with your dead paramour— until all that beauty which on his part led you astray, shall have turned into the loathsomeness of corruption, and likewise until your own brain shall have become maddened by the fearful spec- tacle! Ab, you espoused an Italian; and you ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. ~ shall now learn What an Italian vengeance is !’— These were the words that he addressed to me; and already half-maddened by the fearful ordeal upon which I had entered, I threw myself upon my knees near the suspended corpse itself, dise tractedly proclaiming mine innocence, and ime ploring God to work a miracle to prove it. In the wildness and the frenzy of my mental anguish I adjured the dead himself to speak and proclaim me guiltless! But heaven itself had abandoned me: and no miracle was wrought forme. Oh! conceive the horror of my position,—I, the living, doomed to hold that awful companionship with the dead! Was ever vengeance more fearful? I flew to the windows to dash them open—to shriek for help, or to precipitate myself thence and end my miseries in the blood of a distracted suicide. But my tormentor was ever near me: his strong grasp fixed itself upon me—I was dragged back from the casements—he would not suffer me to find re- lief in death. Ah! if I were to particularize every varied phase of horror through which my mind passed, my narrative would be extended to hours; and Oh! I could not perform such a task. Let me therefore hurry over these details as speedily as possible. For four days and nights was I kept a prisoner in that apartment, —the Count never once leaving me. He, the living per- secutor—and the dead cause of all my fearful wrongs and hideous sufferings,—those two wero my companions ! Twice every day a domestic—I know not which of them all it was, for I never once caught a glimpse of his countenance—placed a tray of provisions just within the door, in front of which the screen was again drawn. The Count however ate but little ; and as for myself—during those four mortal days and nights not a single morsel of food passed my lips. Sometimes, for hours together, I remained plunged into a stupor wherein the sense of life itself seemed lost ; and then for intervals I raved in wildest frenzy. For there ever hung the corpse of Angelo Marano; and theve ever stood the Count with folded arms, his eyes incessantly riveted upon me, as if not a single feeling I experienced should escape his notice. But I will hurry over that terrifying ordeal to which I was subjected ; and I will explain how I- escaped therefrom. The dawn was glimmering in at the win- dows, as the fourth night of my horrible captivity there was drawing to a close,—when I observed that the Count of Carboni was seated upon a sofa in & position that made me regard him more atten- tively. Methought that he either slept profoundly, or that he was dead. ‘Trembling with suspense— scarcely however venturing to indulge i in the fever- ish hope that the moment of escape was near at hand—I crept towards him. His closed eyes and his measured breathing appeared to indicate that he indeed slept. Still I trembled lest it should prove only a diabolic stratagem on his part—an artifice to cheat me into the belief that my eman- cipation was come, so that at the instant when [ fancied that I stood upon the threshold of freedom, his hand might be stretched forth to drag me back. Oh, with what fearful suspense did I con- template the Count’s features, as the beams of morning played with increasing power upon them! Was it possible that his iron nature had succumbed to the sense of utter fatigue—while my constitu. tion, though far more delicate, sustained me yet? CONNEDOOKS Com