Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 67: what you’re looking at

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ts selfish must not I bein my love! Oh, and I am eulfish—and by heaven, I will compel you to be- gum my bride! Through the fear of very shame will I foree you to the altar!—through the dread of’ a ruined reputation will I drag forth an assent from your lips!” “Captain St. Clair,” I said, now recovering somewhat of my hitherto lost presence of mind, ‘is this the language of one who the other day displayed so noble a chivalry and who perilled his life in my behalf ?—Ah !” This ejaculation was wrung from my lips by the circumstance of suddenly perceiving that St. Clair no longer wore a sling; whereas on the night of the ball, the day but one previous, he had still worn it, and appeared to be still suffering deeply. He was now gesticulating with that arm as well as with the other; and I was smitten with asto- nishment at the fact. * T see that you are surprised—and I compre- hend wherefore,” he said: and then he added has- tily, “ But my arm is now well—the wound has healed. Let that matter pass! It is of the pre- sent we haye to speak. If I were an obscure, an humble, and a fortuneless individual—having to battle my way with the world—you might hesitate to accept me. But I possess a brilliant position ; and I offer to make you the sharer of it. I have wealth:—it is your’s. I shall create for myself a proud and lofty name:—its reflection will shine upon you. To descend to the meanest vanity—a vanity which I however despise—I may affirm that my personal appearance is not disagreeable. As for my intelligence—Oh! if you only knew with what contempt and scorn I look around me upon the average intellect of the world, you would admit that there must be some consciousness of superior power on my part! Tell me therefore, Ellen Percy, am I unworthy of you P” I could not help listening to this long speech, as well as to the preceding ones. It was a tor- rent of eloguence which overwhelmed me,—elo- quence so impassioned, so vivid, so irresistible, that it enthralled the senses. It had no fascina- tion of pleasure—but that of its own grand and terrific power. Thus was it painful as the effect of a frightful thunder-storm. The strongest feel- ings were embodying themselves in the strongest language. It was something impossible to cut short by precipitate flight. I felt as if the ocean itself were rolling in around me—fraught with danger—full of menace—but grand, sublime, and terribly awe-inspiring; so that the feet were riveted to the spot and there was no help but to wait involuntarily to be overwhelmed. “ Now you understand me, Ellen,” continued St. Clair after only a few instants’ pause, during which he was enabled to comprehend and measure the effect his words h®A produced. “ Mine you shall be !—and though = win you by coercion, yet will I surround you with affections such as man never before bestowed upon woman. And, Oh! you know not how much it is that I am now promising: you cannot estimate the full meaning of my words! Though no title decorates my name, yet no king ' upon his throne possesses a prouder spirit than Edwin St. Clair! Yes—and this hauteur of mine —not a mere vulgar pride, but the loftiest sublima- tion of which the sentiment is susceptible —all shall be bowed—is bowed—at your feet! Now, a ELLEN PERCY: OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AW ACTRESS. Ellen, I have said more to you than to any living | being did I ever breathe before. But a few weeks back, if any one had told me—wme so coldly cynical in my ideas of the world—me so utterly despising everything that is called sentiment—me who was the veriest infidel in respect to the deity of love, and the extremest sceptic on the score of his wor- ship,—if any one had told me that the day would ever come when I was to address a woman in this strain, I should have deemed the prophecy an in- sult, and should have resented it assuch. But that day has come—it is now present—and I, the infidel, am grown the most infatuated believer in the divine worship of love !” | If in one sense St. Clair’s eloquence was a for- rent to overwhelm, in another sense it wasa subtle web wherewith to enmesh all thesenses. My brain” was bewildered—my head was losing itself in the confusion of my ideas; and I had a vague numb- ing sense of terror lest by obstinacy or refusal on my own part I should draw down some terrific yen- geance on my head. My powers of speech were paralyzed: I was under the influence of a spell which I could not possibly shake off. But, Oh! rest assured, reader, if was not the spell of love! “Now, Ellen, your decision?” resumed Sé, Clair: “ for I can endure this suspense no longer. Oh! need I say more? Be my bride, dearest— and you shall become the idol of my worship! The proudest heart in Christendom, though beat- ing in the breast of a civilian, shall be humbled in devotion unto you! I will not insult your in- telligence, nor imply a miserable feminine vanity on your part, by expatiating on the splendours, the luxuries, and the elegances of life with*which I shall surround you: but this I may say—that all the happiness which wealth can give shall be en- joyed by you! And if you love me not now, let this be no scruple in your way: for as the perfume of one flower blends with that of another, so shall the feelings of our hearts speedily mingle in warm transfusion. Love begets love; and when inchoate in one heart, it fertilises the soil in which the feel- ings are germinating in another. Oh, you will learn to love me, Ellen x : * Never!” I exclaimed, an extraordinary im- pulse being given to my soul as I became thoroughly myself again; for goaded to very desperation, I beheld the necessity of bursting by one bold effort the bonds which terrorism, in- timidation, and the power of eloquence had for a period riveted around me. “Never?” repeated St. Clair, staggering be- neath this sudden rebuff at an instant when he had evidently thought his triumph was assured. “No, never!” I ejaculated. “And, oh! Cap- tain St. Clair, can you not be chivalrous—can you not be magnanimous? Will you not promise to forbear from taking any advantage of a power which my visit hither may seem to have given you over me P” “ You appeal for mercy to me, Ellen,” cried St, Clair bitterly,—“ you who will show me not the slightest particle! Ob, this is intolerable! it is more than enough to make even such a love as mine turn into hatred !”—and never shall I forget how immense was the concentrated wickedness that became expressed in his look at that moment, “For God’s sake spare me!” I said, appealing unto him in very agony. “I cannot become your Gomicbook