Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 306: what you’re looking at

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

Seine che nes ae ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 293 NE rr eee eee I may here observe that six months had now elapsed since those memorable events which had so clearly demonstrated the innocence of Beatrice di Carboni, and since the disappoarance of her husband. During this interval she had heard nothing more of the Count: all trace of him seemed to have been lost; and whether he had actually retired from the world into some deep seclusion, or whether he were wandering about a forlorn and desolate being, it was scarcely possible to conjecture,—unless indeed the assurance which he had given the English solicitor could be reiied upon, that retirement from the busy scenes of life was veritably his intention. But still Beatrice could scarcely bring herself to the idea that a man of so restless a disposition and of such strong and excitable feelings could calm himself down into that temperament which was appropriate to the secluded existence of an anchorite. On reaching the Park, we made the tour of the carriage-drive; and we then alighted to walk for a little while. Although it was the month of September, and “the world of fashion” had for the most part gone out of town, yet there was more than the usual number of equipages, eques- trians, and pedestrians than might have been ex- pected at that autumnal season of the year. The Countess and myself had not walked together many minutes, before I was startled by seeing an individual whose countenance was at once recog: nised by me, pass us hastily by. This was none other than Luigi, the treacherous Italian valet who had been the author of all the misfortunes that had overtaken the Countess. He was pro- ceeding swiftly at the moment—but whether it were because he had recognised us, and was anxious to avoid observation, I could not tell; for he seemed to be looking straight forward, as if not perceiving us at all. Beatrice happened to be glancing at the moment at a troop of equestrians who were dashing past; and I instantaneously resolyed not to mention to her the circumstance which had just startled me, for fear lest it should arouse bitter and painful feelings in her bosom. We continued our way; and presently, when in the neigbourhood of the Achilles statue, I dis- cerned, at a little distance in front, a couple whom I recognised at a glance, though their backs were towards us. These were Captain and Mrs. St. Clair. Zarah was leaning upon her husband’s arm: he was walking with the air of a man who expe- rienced a dignified pride in his handsome wife ; and I felt convinced that he thus paraded her in a public resort for the purpose of sustaining the general impression that he gloried in what he had done, he defied the opinion of the world, he scorned whatsoever superciliousness his marriage might be regarded with—and in short, that he adhered to his policy of making a merit of the necessity which had forced such a wife upon him. ‘You have perhaps heard,” I said to Beatrice, “of the alliance of the well-known Captain St. Clair with a lady of gipsy extraction P” “Yes,” responded the Countess: “I read some. thing about it in the newspapers—and I heard my brother-in-law the Marquis expressing his astonishment a day or two ago at the occur. rence,” re ee er cc “ Captain St. Clair and his wife are in front of you,” I said: but I did not think it necessary to add that this gipsy-wife of his was none other than the identical Zarah to whom the Countess of Carboni was so much indebted for having elicited from the lips of Luigi so many facts that were vitally important to herself. Scarcely had I pointed out the couple to Beatrice, when a party of equestrians came ca- reering past. These were gentlemen and ladieg mounted on beautiful steeds; and amongst the former I at once recognised Colonel Bellew—while amongst the latter I beheld Lady Lilla Essendine. I was now seized with a sudden curiosity to ob- serve how they would treat St. Clair as they rode past. That the unprincipled Bellew had at one time been his creature, I was well aware from my own experience on the occasion when $f. Clair had affected to rescue mo from the Colonel’s power, and which occurrence was followed by tha sham-duel. As for Lady Lilla Essendine, that there had been a guilty connexion between herself and St. Clair I had long felt certain, I knew that she entertained a burning hatred and fierce vindictiveness towards him, although circum. stances had led them, from an identity of their Sinister interests, to act at times in concert. Bué now, in what manner would St. Clair be treated by that man who was lately his creature—no doubt his paid hireling ? and by that woman who was once the object of his criminal love P Lady Lilla Essendine certainly had an elegant appearance upon horseback. ‘The riding-habit set off her fine tall figure to the most admirable ad. vantage,—displaying all the flowing outlines of that symmetry which was adjusted to a blending of the proportions of the Hebe and the Sylph. Her cheeks—usually pale, though always with an animation of the polished skin—had now a colour upon them, imparted by the exhilaration of the exercise she was taking. She sat with an exceed- ing gracefulness upon the steed,—which, though a somewhat spirited animal, she managed with an easy expertness. Her statuesque carriage of the head, neck, and bust, which always had something queenly in it, added to the imposing majesty of her present appearance. No one unacquainted with the secrets of her heart—no one but those who had peeped behind the veil which covered the | mysteries of her life—could have fancied that a being at once so brilliant, so fascinating to all outward seeming, as well as so amiable in her looks, could possibly possess a soul stained with crimes as dark as those which had given an infa- mous repute to such fiends in angel shapes as the Marchioness of Brinvilliers or Lucrezia Borgia. But to the thread of my story. St. Clair and his wife were pursuing their way,—he appearing to be conversing with cheerfulness and fond fami- liarity, and she playing her own part as well, by listening and answering as if with a full con- sciousness that she was in reality the pride, the joy, and delight of her husband. The party of equestrians reined in their steeds, when they in the carriage-drive came abreast as it were with Captain and Mrs. St. Clair on the footway. * Ah, my dear fellow St. Clair!” exclaimed Culonel Bellew in a loud bantering voice: “ play- ing the part of a happy bridegroom, I see? ’Pon honour, it is delightful and affecting !” a —— — Se = —S en, ee ee conn ElOOO) <S) Com