Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 237: what you’re looking at

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224 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRRESS, pained my friend Charlotte that I should have declined it. But I was firm in giving that deci- sion. I am not so conceited or so foolish as to blind my eyes to my own position. There isa wide distinction between the eminent tragedian— affluent, living in good style and courted by every- body, as you are,—and the mere ballet-dancer, living in obscurity! But thisis not all. Witha father situated as mine is—bankrupt—liable to be arrested at any moment for his debts,—and with the great grief that is in my mind on account of the uncertainty that prevails in reference to my roother, my brothers, and my sisters No, Miss Percy !” said Jane, thus abruptly but decisively interrupting herself, “ every sense of delicacy and proper feeling prevents me from entertaining the idea for a single moment of accepting this invita- tion !” I could not help acknowledging to myself the soundness and potency. of the reasons thus ad- duced; and my looks more than my words ex- pressed my commendation of Jane’s conduct. In- deed, I did not choose to say too much on a mat- ter that was alike delicate and painful. We con- tinued to converse together until about ten o'clock, when Miss Parks took her leave—but not before I had obtained from her the promise that she would be a frequent visitress at my house. On the following day, in the course of the morning, I received a note the address of which was in the well-known writing of the Marchioness of Campanella. Her ladyship therein requested me to favour her with a call in the course of the afternoon, as she was very uneasy on account of her sister Beatrice, and wished to consult me on the subject. Accordingly, at about two o’clock I entered my carriage and drove to the Marquis of Campanella’s mansion. On alight- ing, I was at once conducted to one of the sitting- apartments, where the Marchioness was waiting for me. I found her alone; I saw that she looked unhappy, though she smiled with her wonted affability as she advanced to greet me. “ What evil tidings has your ladyship,” I asked, with exceeding anxiety, “in reference to Bea- trice P” “TI scarcely know how to answer you, my dear Miss Percy,” replied the Marchioness. ‘ When Beatrice came back S “Came back?” I exclaimed. return P” “Ah! then, you are ignorant,” cried the noblo lady, “that Beatrice came home the day before yesterday ?” “ Your sister,” I said, with a slight tincture of coldness in my tone, “departed with great abrupt- ness so far as L was concerned; and she has not thought fit to favour me with any announcement of her return to England :”—but even as I thus spoke, I was bewildered and perplexed, for I won- dered whether anything had arisen to cause her unhappiness in respect to her contemplated union with Ludovico Marano, or whether indeed that raatch were altogether broken off. “‘ You look offended, my dear Miss Percy,” ex- claimed the Marchioness, “I hope in the name of heaven that Beatrice bas not proved ungrateful to you who have been her best and dearest friend —a more than sister towards her !” “The Countess of Carboni,’ I responded, “Wien did she * asked me to call upon her on the thirtieth of November it was on the preceding day that she gave me the appointment and when I came at the time specified, I found that she had departed that same morning for the Continent, —the Marquis and your ladyship having accom. panied her for the purpose of being her escort as far as Dover.” “ Yes—we accompanied her to Dover,” said the Marchioness. “She informed us that she purposed to repair to Paris, and there seclude herself for a while in the bosom of some quiet family, or else to retire for a time into a convent; for her mind was so unhinged by the excitement of recent occurrences,—the arrest and death of Luigi,—these circumstances having so vividly con- jured up the memory of past sorrows !” “Ah! those were her intentions ?” I said, thus perceiving that Beatrice had evidently kept her sister and brother-in-law entirely in the dark in reference to her matrimonial project. “Yes—those were her intentions,” continued the Marchioness, with an air of surprise. “ Is it possible that she did not communicate them to your” No,’ I answered laconically: and though deeply vexed at the deception which Beatrice had practised towards her relatives, I still did not choose to betray her secret. “ ‘We offered to accompany her to Paris,” con- tinued the Marchioness; “ but she begged that we would pert from her at Dover. We yielded to her request, thinking it would be unadvisable to vex or perturb her mind more than it was already troubled. The day before yesterday, after about a week’s absence, she suddenly returned home in the evening. Her looks were strange and wild; and in reply to our anxious questions, all we could obtain from her was that she had altered her mind and that she preferred continuing to sojourn beneath the roof of her sister and brother-ia-law. All day yesterday I endeavoured to obtain from her the cause of the new sorrow that has smitten her; for that she has sustained some additional afflic- tion I feel perfectly convinced! At length in my despair I wrote to you, knowing how deep is the regard she entertains for you, and believing that you wield a great influence over her.” I reflected for a few moments; and thenI said, ‘*Yes~-I will see Beatrice, if she will receive me.” * Receive you? Ob, can you doubt it ?” ex. claimed the Marchioness. ‘Go to her chamber— you know it—she is there.” I accordingly ascended to the Countess of Car: boni’s room : I knocked at the door-~the voice of Beatrice was plaintively heard bidding me enter-- and as I crossed the threshold, she slowly raised her eyes as if expecting only to behold her sister or a female domestic. Then she gave a quick start,—and ejaculating, “Is it you, Ellen?” she gazed upon me with a species of mingled stupor and affright, There was a strange sinister light in those eyes of deep grey which were wont to be full of a mournfully serene softness ; her face was excecd- ingly pale—and with the beautiful fairness of her complexion, it seemed as if this pallor were that of death itself. She was dressed in a morning deshabillée, and her long brown tresses werd floating over her half-naked shoulders, ee Sree ee CORNICLOOOKS (E(0)