Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

a 166 LL LL ALLL LOL LLL LEAL LLL LEAL LE ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, Having thus spoken, Angeline Churchill quitted the dressing-room, closing the door behind her, and leaving mea prey to the utmost perplexity, asto- nishment, and even dismay. Could the unfortu- nate young woman be really mad? —was she labouring under some extraordinary monomania in reference to myself? Jassuredly had never seen her until within the last few weeks—at least not to my knowledge ; and as for having in any way consciously injured her, it was entirely out of the question. How was it possible that I could have been the means of reducing her to the position of a ballet-dancer? Truly, the idea of monomania seemed the most probable theory to account for her conduct ;~and yet I was not altogether satis- fied that this was the correct explanation of the mystery ; for her looks had not been those of one whose brain was disordered: on the contrary, there was a terrible saneness—a fearful collected- ness, in the fierce looks of hatred with which she had regarded me. But if not insane, how was her behaviour to be possibly reconciled to all cir- cumstances that were within my knowledge ? And Oh! in any case, it was distressing to think that one whom I had looked upon as being so meek and mild, could all of a sudden develop such strong capabilities for aversion and hatred; for scorn and contempt! Ah, methought that her feelings must have been cruelly warped; and who could tell what misfortunes and calamities she had known previous to obtaining her bread by the profession of a ballet-dancer,—that profession which she evidently so much loathed and ab- horred ! While I was giving way to these reflections— bewildering myself with conjectures — thinking that something ought to be done, yet knowing not what I should do—the door again opened, and the object of my painful thoughts reappeared. Yes— Angeline Churchill stood upon the threshold: her face was now perfectly calm, though very pale— and her violet eyes were fixed steadfastly upon me with the completest lucidity of expression. Indeed, as I have already said, even in their very fierceness there had been naught rabid in their look. I fancied that the period of monomania having left her, she was repentant for her conduct, and that she came to apologize. I rose from the chair on which I had remained seated in deep and painful meditation; and I advanced to take her hand, thinking that I could anticipate her purpose by the assurance that she was com- pletely forgiven. But she drew back with a cold hauteur amounting almost to a repelling disdain ; and she said, “ Miss Percy, if you consider that IT am under the slightest obligation towards you, [ may as well ask something which will en- hance that obiigation. I beg therefore that what has taken place between us may be kept entirely secret. I do not say I am actually sorry for whatsoever has transpired; but I confess that I was taken off my guard—and perhaps I said more than I intended perhaps I betrayed my feel- ings too far. ‘Therefore, I repeat, let the seal of secrecy rest upon your lips. You are all-powerful here; and a word from your tongue would cause my dismissal, You would thereby be depriving me of my bread. Heaven knows I often eat it in bitterness when I think how it is earned !—but it cially as there is one dependent upon me. I say no more. I know that if you have made up your mind to complain to the lessee, nothing will divert you from your purpose: but I know on the other hand that if you say the secret shail be kept, your word will not be forfeited.” I could scarcely any longer imagine that the person who thus spoke collectedly to me was really wrong in her mind; and therefore I ex- claimed, “There must be some frightful mistake, Miss Churchill! What injury do you suppose that I could ever have done you ?” “No matter, Miss Percy,” she responded, “This is not the time for explanations. Perhaps that time will never-come! At all events let us be strangers to each other for the future ;—and I repeat, it depends upon yourself whether I lose my bread !” “ Whoever you may be,” I ejaculated,—“ and whatsoever deplorable error you may be labouring under, you have nothing to dread from any vin- dictiveness on my part! From all that I can now perceive or imagine, you deserve my pity—my sympathy—my commiseration!—and therefore it is by no means probable that I shall attempt to persecute you.” “ Your pity!” she ejaculated, in a tone of in- effable contempt and scorn, again mingled with the strongest aversion: but instantaneously alter- ing alike her tone and look, she added ina much milder voice, “ Well, your pity!—be itso! I am sufficiently inured to everything which this world can inflict, that I can now even support that! Well then, I repeat, be if so!—Your pity! and now for pity’s sake,’ she added with a slight tincture of irony in her tone, “let the veil be dropped upon this scene which has taken place between us.” Having thus spoken, Angeline Churchill again disappeared from my presence. I was so much excited and bewildered by everything which had occurred, that I could not immediately leave my dressing-room: I remained there to compose my- self, and likewise to refiect. But my reflections flowed in the same channel as before; and again was I painfully balanced by conjecture between the idea of her saneness and that of her madness. At length I issued from my room; and I speedily learnt the issue of the scene which Melissa Har- rison had that day in her jealousy excited. She had received a prompt dismissal from Mr, Richards: she had not thought fit to make any apology—she had not requested permission to remain—but she had shut herself up in a sullen reserve and a moody silence. In this humour she had left the theatre. The dramatic author had sent an apology for his non-appearance, — alleging a sudden and very severe indisposition which prevented him from at- tending according to appointment; and I was by no means sorry that this had occurred, inasmuch as I was now in no mood to listen to the reading of any drama or portion of one. But while still thinking of the strange scene which had taken place betwixt myself and Angeline, I said to Mr. Richards, as if in quite a casual way, “ Have you ever heard any- thing more respecting the circumstances which compelled Miss Churchill to seek an engagement with you?” “Never,” he responded. “I know no more of were still more bitter to have none to eat—espe- | her private history than I did at the outset; and I Gomichboo — + - —. — SUE EE Eee aE22—_em CC ALLL LA ABLE CSALXWXLL LL LL (E(o) 7s oe