Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

30 ELLEN PERCY$ OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. the theatrical sphere. And you, Ellen, are so | ago about your idea of going into the world as a sweetly beautiful—so good—so kind-hearted | governess n Oh! for heaven’s sake look well at every step you ° Well, Mr. Parks,” I answered, “I certainly take in this tangled maze wherein you are plung- | thought there was an absence of friendliness in ing! And now not another word on the subject— | your letter: but since you assure me it was merely at least not for to-day! And you will not tell the | the effect of haste, 1 am sorry I should have put Normans that I have dealt thus candidly with you? | so uncharitable a construction on it. And now They look upon you as a star whom they are in- | therefore, permit me to express my thanks for the troducing into the dramatic heaven, and whose | advertisements which you inserted "I light will therefore to a certain extent be reflected “No thanks are needful, my dear Ellen,” re- on themselves. They would not thank me if they | plied the lawyer. “1 am prepared to do anything knew I had breathed a single syllable which might for you and perhaps I have neglected you have the effect of abating your enthusiasm. And somewhat. However, now that we have met, you now, my sweet friend, farewell!” must permit me to show you some little attention. With these words Melissa Harrison grasped my | I have a great many things to talk to you about. hand and hurried from the room. Her discourse | You will come and dine with me to-day: Mrs. had left a painful impression on my mind: indeed | Parks will be delighted to see you we have often thought and spoken of you since my poor the entire scene was such that I could not possibly | put it away from my thoughts, nor avoid dwelling | mother’s death. Ah, she was a saint, Hilen!~and on it with a certain mingling of positive uneasi- | she is now an angel in heaven!” ness and yague apprehension. Mr. Parks—as I had known him in my girlhood —used to be a sanctimonious individual, with a demure look, slow and drawling speech, large spectacles, a limp white neckcloth, and a suit of | seedy black. Now he had a gay dashing sort of appearance, as much as such an ill-fayvoured person —with his red hair and whiskers, and freckled | face—could have. He was most fashionably ap- | parelled ; his look was anything but sanctimonious ; On the day after the preceding conversation, I had | the spectacles on the nose were eschewed for gold occasion to make some purchases; and I walked CHAPTER VII. THE INVITATION AND THE RESULT. forth alone for the purpose. It was a little be- fore the hour of noon; and I had to go im the direction of the West End to procure the articles which I required. As I was turning the corner or a street leading into one of the fashionable Squares, I had to stop suddenly short on account of a splen- did equipage that was dashing along from the opposite direction. It was an open phaeton drawn by two superb horses, whose harness was literally covered with silver: the coachman and footman were clad in gorgeous liveries—light blue coats covered with silver lace, broad bands and cords to their hats, red plush breeches, and shoes with buckles. eye-glasses hanging over the waistcoat; and in- stead of his speech being drawling, it was rapid and off-hand, until it suddenly sank into lugu- brious lowness of tone at the point when he | thought fit to go into the dismals on account of his deceased mother. I certainly never had seen anything very saint-like in respect to the late Mrs. Parks; and there was really something blasphem.- ously ludi(rous in the manner in which he had al- luded to her as an angel in heaven, “You will come and dine with us at five, Ellen,” repeated Mr. Parks. “TI will send my carriage for you pray be in readiness.” I should have refused the invitation, were it not The body of the phaeton had but one occupant—a | for the assurance which he had given me to the gentleman, who was lounging back with the air of | effect that he had a great many things to tell one who superciliously despised all the foot-passen- | me; and my curiosity was naturally excited as I gers by whom his equipage dashed. A glance at | thought that these things must be certain to con- that individual’s countenance showed me that if cern me somewhat, and that they would perhaps was Mr. Parks the lawyer. elucidate the mystery of that strange man’s con- The recognition was mutual: he ordered the | nexion with my deceased grandfather as well as equipage to stop: and taking me by the hand, | with Mrs. Parks and her son. I therefore ac- exclaimed, “ Well really, Ellen, this is most ex- cepted the invitation, and promised to be in readi- traordinary! I was on my way to call upon you. | ness by the time the carriage should arrive for me. I only came back from the Continent a few days We then parted,—the brilliant equipage dashing ago But why did you not leave your address along in one direction, and I pursuing my way iu at my house, so that when I did come back I | another. might see youP” | Punctually at a quarter to five o’clock I was “Tn the first place, Mr. Parks,” I answered, “I | dressed in evening costume; and Mr, Parks’s car- did not think that I had sufficient claims upon | riage arrived to take me to his house. It was a your interest; and in the second place, I have close carriage that he had sent, and of a magnifi- been staying with friends—I am not in a situa- cence to be in perfect keeping with the equipage I tion as a governess, as perhaps you might have had seen in the morning. On arriving at the law- fancied 9 | yer’s mansion—which was in a fashionable West “Why should you suppose that you are not an | End Square—I was conducted up to the drawing- object of interest to me P” he cried. ‘“ Have I not | room, where Mrs. Parks received me. She was a known you from your childhood? But I suppose little mean-looking woman, with a very vixenis it was because I wrote that letter of mine in such | expression of countenanve—though she now en- a dreadful hurry, you might have fancied it a cvol | deayoured to render herself as amiable as possible. one—I mean when you applied to me a few months | I found her alone; and as she invited me to takea nine i ae ie GoOmicviooks.Gcom