Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 217: what you’re looking at

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

So SS ee eee ae eee 204 more than my words—my tears and my despair, must have already most eloquently answered that question! Oh, for months past—yes, for upwards of seven long months since you and I parted —— you remember that day - “Oh, yes, yes!—it was a dreadful day !” inter- jected Herbert, shuddering: “a day that never can be forgotten !” “No, never!” rejoined Mary. “ Well then, ever since that terrible day I have not known the real state of my own heart—I have not comprehended the true sentiments of my own soul. At one time methought I hated you—at another time there was tenderness*in my bosom as your image was conjured up to my mental view! But Oh! I endeavoured to persuade myself—I tried to persuade Ellen likewise—that I hated you —or at least that everything would inevitably be at an end betwixt you and me even if circum. stances were altogether different! But now, Herbert—but now—Oh! I feel that in reality I have never ceased to love you! I have deceived myself—my mind has been in a morbid condition yes, more morbid than I can possibly explain! Tt has been mad! yes, mad!—it has yielded toa fantasy which now makes me the wretched, wretched being that I am!” “A fantasy P” murmured the young Marquis, at first in a manner of vacant inquiry. “A fan- tasy P” he quickly repeated, as a suspicion evi- dently sprang up in his mind. “Good heavens! what can you mean, Mary?’—and he looked frightened and full of the most painful suspense. “Nothing ! nothing!” ejaculated Mary, shiver- ing from head to foot. ‘ Do not question me!— let our interview here end!” Herbert Dalrymple paced thrice to and fro in the apartment; and I watched him with the most painful interest and curiosity—while Mary sat upon the sofa, her looks bent downward, her breathing quick and excited, her bosom heaving and falling rapidly, and her hands quivering as if the fingers were agitated with spasmodic convul- sions. At length Dalrymple stopped suddenly short close by the sofa ; and he said, “ Mary, if you mean me to understand that since we parted you have seen another whom you think you can love—if in a moment of desperation, or in one of those moods when you believed that you hated me—or if with the idea of snatching at some change, in the belief that it was what your dis- eased mind needed—or to fill up a supposed void in your bosom—if in any of all these circum: stances, I say, you listened to the love-suit of an- other, I will forgive you, Mary !—Oh! I will pardon you! In a word, the whole past, what- ever it may be, shall be buried in oblivion—and this day shall be regarded as the era of a new and happy existence! Speak, then. dear Mary 4 “Oh, such kind words as these !” she ejaculated in accents of despair. “ Oh! wretch that I am! what amount of happiness have I lost!” “For mercy’s sake tell me what you mean, Mary !” cried Herbert : “ tell me—tell me p? “No, no!—just heaven, no! it were impos- sible!”—and the poor girl again shuddered visibly: she was labouring under the most fearful excitement. “Yes—but you must tell me!” said Herbert, | whose suspense was evidently most excruciating. ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. “You do not mean me to understand, Mary, that —that you are married P?” The burning glow of shame mantled upon her countenance; and at the same instant she burst into tears, which streamed down upon her crimson cheeks like a shower upon a peony. “ My God! what would you have me suspect ?” ejaculated Dalrymple, now starting as if a serpent had stung him. ‘ Must I think But no! no! it were impossible! As soon could I believe that snow itself might turn black —as soon believe that the lily might change to the hue of jet—as that you, Mary—you——” “Enough, Herbert!” moaned the wretched girl, ‘I would have kept the truth from you,” she continued, in a voice broken and half suffo- cated by her feelings; “ but you have gone on until at length you have drawn forth my fatal secret !” , *O God! then it is so!”—and Herbert dash- ing his open palm against his forehead, staggered back and sank upon a chair. At the same instant Mary Glentworth cast upon me a look of ineffable misery—a look so forlorn and woe-begone, that methinks I behold it now even as I pen these lines some years after the occurrence itself,—and she said in a hollow tone, “Tell him what you like, Ellen—tell him what you think fit—but conjure him so to «ct that we may never meet again! I[ go to my chamber: you will join me there as soon as possible—will you not, dearest Ellen?” * I will, Mary,” I responded, pressing her hand in my own, and flinging upon her a regard fraught with the deepest sympathy. She glided from the apartment; and as the door closed behind her, Herbert Dalrymple sprang up from his seat. The words which Mary had said to me were spoken in a tone too low for his ear to catch them; and as he bent a haggard de. spairing look upon me, he said, “ She is gone!” “ Yes—my lord,” I answered. “And Oh! let me conjure you—as she herself through me en- treats—that henceforth you will act as if there were no such being in the world as Mary Glent- worth !” I stopped short ; for the young Marquis turned away from me with so strange an abruptness that I thought he was about to leave the room and hasten after the object of his unfortunate love. I bounded towards him; for I dreaded lest there should arise a scene in the house. I perceived, however, that he was merely about to take three or four turns to and fro in the apartment ; and I re- garded him in silence. At length he accosted me as abruptly as he had a few moments before turned away; and he said, “ May I know the history of this dread misfortune ? I cannoé sup- pose that Mary was capable of willing weakness: the conviction is strong in my mind that she was a@ victim.” “She was!” I answered. that she was——” “Enough, Miss Percy,” he interrupted me. “ T know that nothing but truth ever comes from your lips. Ah! even this is a relief, to know that she fell not by her own fault, but by the villany of another ! And may I ask, Miss Percy, who is the miscreant 4 “If he were at large in the world, [ would not *“ Ob, believe me CORNICLOOO“K (C (E@)