Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 147: what you’re looking at

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134 talent. cipal dancers, to ascertain whom I might recognise, I was suddenly struck by beholding Melissa Har- rison. A year had elapsed since the occurrences connected with the Marquis of Tynedale, which had revealed in its true light the infamous character of the young woman; and as immediately after those incidents she had become the mistress of the Marquis, she had left the stage to live as a fine lady and ride in a carriage. Thus for a long period I had lost sight of her, until she now appeared upon that stage again; and therefore, I concluded that she had separated from the Marquis and was neces- sitated to fali back upon her old profession. She was one of the “stars” of the ballet: but shé was not without a rival there. Indeed she was equalled, if not eclipsed, by a new danseuse of whom I must speak, I had read of her debut, which was only very recent ; and the journals had spoken most ad- mirably of her. She was said to be an English girl; but she figured in the playbills as Made- moiselle Angeline. She was about two-and-twenty years of age, possessing a very handsome face and a remarkably fine person. Indeed, with the splen- did contours of her charms, she reminded me of Juliet; and if I remembered right, the newspapers had already compared her to that accomplished artiste. Not many minutes after the ballet had com- menced, the door of our box opened, and Mr. Richards made his appearance. “May I come in for a few moments ?” ho in- quired. “I wish to speak to you, Miss Trafford, iv. order to settle the evening of your reappearance upon the stage.” * By all means come in,’ I said, “and tell us something about this new acquisition of your’s, who is really deserving of all the praises bestowed upon her by the journals. It is only two months or ten weeks at the outside, since I thought of re- tiring altogether from dramatic life; and during that interval I have not once visited the theatre until this evening. You must therefore treat me as a stranger, and humour my questions.” *‘Cheerfully,” replied the manager, as he took a seat behind Mary Glentworth and myself in the box. ‘ You allude to Mademoiselle Angeline?” “Precisely,” I answered. “Who is she?—for of course we know that she is English. Indeed her looks prove it.” “Tt is a singular story,” said the lessee; “ and if you have patience to listen, I will tellit. It must have been as near as I can remember a couple of months ago—very shortly after your secession from the stage—that I formed the acquaintance of her who now bears the name of Mademoiselle An- geline. The story is however confidential, for reasons that will presently be obvious. I must tell you that I was one evening passing through some poor and obscure street which served as a short cut from a place where I had been dining to the theatre, when I beheld a young female sud- denly flit by me and disappear within the side door of a pawnbroker’s shop. The gaslight had revealed to me a countenance which struck me as being remarkably handsome ; and you may judge by looking at Mademoiselle Angeline whether my Opinion was correct and my taste was good upon the point. I was moving on, when a feeling of interest in that young woman detained me linger- But as my eyes wandered over the prin- ee ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, ing about the spot. Presently she issued forth; and now I beheld tears glistening upon her cheeks. Indeed she was sobbing bitterly. I addressed her in the kindest manner, begging her at once to un- derstand that I was not a man who would insult a young lady, much less one who was in affliction. I addressed her as a lady, not merely from a mo- tive of courtesy, but likewise because her appear- ance indicated something superior to the condition in which I found her. I do no mean that she was well dressed, because it was the very reverse— she was poorly clad: but there was a certain air about her In a word, you can look at her as she now is, and fancy whether a mean apparel would altogether subdue that gentility of manner which distinguishes her.”. “She is certainly lady-like,” I remarked; “and there is an air of modesty about her. But pray proceed, Mr, Richards. I am already interested in her.” “When I addressed her in the manner already described,” continued the lessee, “she suddenly wiped her eyes and looked at me earnestly for a moment, as if to assure herself that my conduct corresponded with my words; and then in a low tremulous voice, she thanked me for my sympathy and passed on. I should add that her countenance had become scarlet, as if with a sense of shame and humiliation at the idea of being seen issuing from a pawnbroker’s shop. I dared not detain her: it appeared to me as if it were a case of genteel poverty whose only consolation was to shroud itself from the eyes of the world. But when she was out of sight I entered the pawnbroker’s shop, and put a few questions. I learnt that the young female had brought some trifling article of rai- ment, on which she begged the loan of ten shillings, but it was only half this sum that the shopman thought himself justified in advancing. She was evi- dently much disappointed and distressed: but she took the amount, gave a name and address, and quitted the place, It was through no impertinent curiosity that I inquired that name and address. The latter was in some street at no great distance : the former was Jane Smith. I thought to myself that some pressing want—perhaps the payment of rent—had to be supplied, and that the poor crea- ture might be reduced to the utmost distress in consequence of the disappointment she had expe- rienced. I therefore proceeded to the address which had just been made known to me,—arrang- ing in my mind by the way the manner in which I should again introduce myself and the most deli- cate method of proffering succour without appear- ing to have—as indeed I had not—a sinister mo- tive. But when I reached the particular street, I found that there was no such house there, for the numbers did not run so high; and therefore I con- cluded that the name of Jane Smith was likewise fictitious. I came back to the theatre, vexed and angry with myself for not having detained her in conversation when I met her emerging from the pawnbroker’s shop.” “ All this was very kind of you, Mr. Richards,” I said: and the compliment was not idly passed, for I had at different times heard several little traits of a charitable nature in connexion with the lessee. But your history must have a sequel— or else Mademoiselle Angeline would not be | here.” COMMICLOOOlK C Or ere eer ee a (E@)