Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

23@ —— — ness. I was enabled to assure Juliet that her parents were quite well, and that they were enjoy- ing themselves at Ramsgate as much as was pos- sible considering the circumstances which com- pelled them to remain separate from their much- loved daughter. It was in the evening of the following day that I was rambling out by myself through the adjacent fields, when, as I was drawing near a stile, I per- ceived Mary Glentworth hastening to me from the opposite direction. Towards her, now that we were alone together, I was resolved to maintain that air of friendliness which I had hitherto worn. We both reached the stile at the same instant: but instead of immediately accepting my hand, she gazed upon me with a half earnest, half joyous expression of countenance; and then she suddenly exclaimed, **Yes—it must be! You yourself are Miss l'rafford !” I smiled, as she now took my hand, which she pressed with effusion; and she cried, “Oh, why did you not tell me so at firstP You know not what pleasure you would have afforded me! And I who spoke to you about yourself on that very first occasion when we met!” “T can assure you, my dear Miss Glentworth,” T answered, “I had no particular reason for making a mystery of the fact—unless it were that being sated with popularity for a season, I wished to remain as secluded as possible during my vacation at River House.” * Oh, I saw your portrait in a print-shop yester- day at Dover!” exclaimed Mary; “and you may conceive my astonishment when I recognised it. I purchased it; and I do believe that when I got home I should have done nothing but contemplate it for all the remainder of the day, only that we found some one had arrived to whom I was bound to devote all my attention !” “ Indeed,” L said, not knowing precisely what remark to make. * Yes—I found my dear uncle waiting for us at the Cottage,” proceeded Mary Glentworth; “and whenever he comes to visit us—which he does every now and then for a day or two at a time — he is always so kind and good to me, that I am only too happy to show how much [ leve him in return. He came by the coach yesterday ; and he will not go away until to-morrow. I should have been so pleased to tell him that I had accidentally formed your acquaintance: but my mother bade me say nothing upon the subject—for it seems to be my uncle’s wish, as well.as her own inclina- tion, that we should live as secluded as we are doing.” * Your uncle, then, I presume, lives at some distance P’ I observed, rather by way of saying something than because I had any curiosity upon the point: for after what Mrs. Oldcastle had told me, I more than fancied that it was really no uncle at all—but perhaps even a much nearer relative, though Mary might suspect it not. “Oh! Mr. Glentworth lives in London,” was her prompt and ingenuous answer. “ He is the brother of my poor father, who has long been dead. Fndeed he died in my infancy—and there- fore I have not the slightest recollection of him.” After all,’ I thought to myself, “ what if the whole tale, as Mary has been taught it, and as she is now telling it to me,—whatifit be true? And ee ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. —-- — or + what if some family reasons, unknown to the world in general, have doomed Mrs. Glentworth to her present existence of seclusion ?” Such was the charitable construction which I endeavoured to put upon the matter; yet I could not persuade myself that it was so ; for it fell to the ground in the presence of that part of Mrs. =, a le el i et a ee ee owe *) ee Oldecastle’s narrative which declared that Mrs. ° Glentworth’s real character had been thoroughly unmasked some years back at Hastings. “ Oh, Miss Trafford!” continued Mary Glent- worth, “I do hope that I shall have the pleasure of at least an hour’s conversation with you some day before you leave this part of the country : for I have already confessed to you my admiration for those beautiful creations of Shakspere by the per- sonification of which you have earned so much fame. I cannot remain here now any longer—I have merely been to take something to a poor woman who lives in yonder hut—and I must return home as speedily as possible.” ** We shall see each other again, my dear Miss Glentworth,” I answered,—thus evading the ne- cessity of giving any definite reply in respect to my promised visit. We shook hands and separated,—Mary hasten. ing in one direction, while I proceeded in the other. I continued my walk, pondering ali she had said in respect to her alleged uncle, and hoping for the young lady’s sake that it was con- sistent with truth,—when I reached the hut which had been the object of her visit. Remembering that she had spoken of some poor woman who dwelt there, I felt inclined to ascertain whether any little additional charity which I might be able to afford, would prove of any service; and I entered accordingly. In that cottage I heard a tale which proved how Mary Glentworth and her mother did much good in secret—privately and without ostentation ; for I found that this was by no means an isolated case in which poverty had been succoured and sickness ministered unto by those ladies. I gave something from my own purse to the poor dwellers in that cottage ; and I began slowly to retrace my way homeward, sorrow= fully reflecting on the evil which I had heard from Mrs. Oldcastle in respect to Mrs. Glentworth, and sincerely hoping that despite all circumstantial evidence it might be in reality naught but the echo of whispered calumny. I was already in the neighbourhood of River House, when I observed Mrs. Glentworth herself approaching through the same field which I was traversing. It at first struck me that she was perhaps on her way to visit the same cottage where I had so recently been: but then me- thought that she would scarcely follow so closely in the steps of her daughter, as there was no pressing necessity for such a double act of charity at the cottage itself, and moreover as she hada visitor at her own home. In a few minutes we ‘met; and instead of passing me by, as I had ex- pected, Mrs. Glentworth stopped,—saying, ‘ Will you permit me, Miss Trafford, to have a few words with you P” I bowed, and stood still. “You saw some one arrive at my dwelling yes- terday,” she continued ; “and you doubtless recog- nised him? May I hope that with that delicacy of feeling for which the world so justly gives you ee ee es er ee te Gomicbooksneom -