Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 205: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee eee ee 192 _——-— — I have now to speak of other matters, Pro- cisely five months had by this time elapsed since the unfortunate Mary Glentworth became the victim of Edwin St. Clair’s villany. As the reader knows, she was in a way to become a mother: but if was yet easy to conceal her posi- tion from the eyes of the world. It was however different within the circle of our own household ; and the prying gaze of a domestic might detect that secret which it was so desirable to veil. Be- sides, Mary’s health was suffering; and the excite- ment produced by her own vindictive feelings— gloating as they did over the fallen condition of her betrayer, Edwin St. Clair—was telling upon her constiiution. * She could no longer invoke her natural energies for performance upon the stage ; and she feared lest by a falling off in her acting she should impair the good reputation she had won, Ina word, I saw that she needed change of scene and quietude; and I was resolved that she should have both. While I was thinking how her engagement could be broken off with Mr. Richards, and how a sufficient excuse could be made for her disappearance from the stage for a few months without engendering suspicion in reference to the real cause, a catastrophe occurred which suddenly furnished the opportunity. It was at the end of the month of November of which I am now writing, that the name of Mr. Richards appeared in the list of Bankrupts. All his engagements were therefore brought abruptly to a close; and the theatre was shut up. Everybody was astonished: for the universal opinion had been that the lessee was not only doing well, but even making a fortune. This idea was fully justified by the overflowing houses which he had enjoyed during the two years and a half that I had appeared upon the boards of the theatre ; and it seemed to be corroborated by the fact that he paid his way with the utmost regu- larity. But the whole truth now came out. He had borrowed a very considerable sum of money four or five years back, when he first took the theatre ; and of this amount he had paid nothing off, He had lived luxuriously ; and if he had created fow additional debts, he had done naught towards the liquidation of the old one. The per- son who had lent him the money died; and the executors threatened to put in force the warrant- of-attorney which Mr. Richards had given as a security for the loan. To save himself from prison he got himself made bankrupt. Immediately upon the occurrence of the catastrophe, he addressed. very courteous and friendly letters to Mary Glent- worth and myself,—expressing his sorrow at the severance of the engagements, but venturing to hope that this severance would only prove tem: porary, as he felt confident that in a few weeks he should be clear of hig difficulties and in a posi- tion to resume the lesseeship of the theatre, and thereby secure our services again. We re- plied in suitable terms; for his conduct had always beeu most liberal, straight-forward, and honourable towards us. A compulsory holiday was now forced upon my- self; for there was no other theatre where at the time I thought fit to accept an engagement: while in respect to Mary Glentworth the circumstance was really a favourable one. I proposed to her that as she was acquainted with the secret of ee — —— ee -e PR, HO, pe aes ee ELLEN PERCY 3; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, Juliet having become a mother before she was @ wife, she should treat her with an equal degree of confidence; for I well knew that she would gladly afford Mary an asylum during the timo that she might wish to .seclude herself from the world. Mary assented: I accordingly wrote to Lady Frederick Ravenscliffe full particulars re- specting the villany of which poor Mary had be- come the victim; and we received the kindest answer from Juliet. Her father was upon the Continent; and she therefore declared that she should be glad of the proposed companionship. I resolved to pass about a month at River House, and so spend my Christmas there. I did not choose to take Beda with me, for the simple reason that Mary Glentworth was particularly anxious to veil her shame from every one beneath my own roof. I[ therefore told Beda that I de- sired her to remain in London, to watch over the interests of my own establishment; and I more- over hinted that as she was constantly receiving the visits of William Lardner, I should not like to deprive her of the pleasure which she naturally experienced from the circumstance. Beda was always docile and obedient to my wishes; and thus this little matter was easily arranged. It was in the commencement of December that Mary and [I arrived at River House, where we were most cordially received by Juliet. Tho weather was superb: the autumn had been un- usually beautiful—the hand of winter had not as yet seemed to touch the landscape scenery—many of the trees still preserved their foliage, though the leaves were all displaying those varied and beautiful tints which in their perishing state they disclose, just as the chameleon puts forth the most vivid and varying hues in the hour of its death. The sun shone brightly, and even powerfully; and it veritably appeared as if it were the commence- ment of spring, instead of the approaching ex- tinction of the current year. Need I say that from Juliet Mary experienced the utmost sym- pathy on account of the hideous treachery of which she had been rendered a victim ? On the very day after our arrival at River House, an accident occurred which not merely for its own sake, but for that of the circumstances which grew out of it, must find a place in my narrative. It was at about eleven in the forenoon —the weather being still as beautiful as on the preceding day, and all nature smiling as if in de- fiance of the approach of winter,—when, as Mary and I were conversing in the drawing room to- gether, Juliet being at the moment in some other part of the house, we heard the sounds of some equipage dashing along; and then the next mo- ment there was an awful crash. We rushed to the window, and instantaneously discerned the cause. A nobleman’s travelling-carriage, as we could tell by the blazonry on the panels, had upset in a ditch on the opposite side of the road. Hjacu- lations of terror burst from the lips of Mary Glentworth and myself: but these were instanta- neously succeeded by other cries—namely, of astonishment—as we both at the same moment recognised the liveries of the domestics. It was the Duke of Ardleigh’s equipage to which the accident had happened. * Good heavens!” cried Mary: “there will be broken limbs there!” —— SE ET TT TT LT RE NOOLKS ‘2. (C(O) COLA