Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 273: what you’re looking at

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ne 260 as much as to remind her of the prudence of holding her peace. We heard the bolt spring into its socket; and I whispered to the crone, “That bolt has been put up since Beda and I were im- prisoned here: for then the door was fastened by means of a bar and a piece of rope.” “And most likely the bolt was put up in the course of this very day,” rejoined the dame; ‘for the whole affair was evidently planned be- forehand—and it was all settled and arranged where you afid me were to be locked up.” “ And heaven help me,” I thought within my- self, “at the prospect of having such a vile wretch as you as my companion for this night, and per- haps all day to-morrow !”—and I shuddered at the idea, ‘“‘ However,” said the dame, who was now speak- ing in a subdued and muttering tone—for the re- cent conduct of the ruffian with the clubstick had evidently terrified her,—‘ however, I will sooner or. later have vengeance upon St. Clair—and ven- geance upon Lilla Essendine!’ Ob, yes! I must yet see that man mount the scaffold !—I must see whether the white night-cap will as well become his head as those masses of light brown auburn hair! I must see also the perfidious Lilla mount the scaffold,—she with her blonde hair and beau- tiful complexion—with the dazzling whiteness of the neck and shoulders #4 “Silence, woman!’ I ejaculated; “you shall not give way to such language in my presence! It may be right and proper to desire that the ven- geance of the law shall overtake great criminals: but there is something shocking in the idea of gloating in this savage manner € “What! do you mean to say,” interrupted the dame, with mingled scorn and contempt in her accents, “that you have any pity for that man or that woman ¥ “No!—I have assuredly no earthly reason to bestow any pity upon them,” I interrupted the crone: “1 know that they have proved the source of much rancorous persecution against myself,— persecution, too, of which you, dame, have been the principal agent——”’ “Well,” she interjected: “and now too, at this | very moment you are a prisoner on their account and at their instigation! St. Clair is in danger of having all his iniquities exposed; and Lilla Essen- dine trembles lest the same storm-cloud should burst over her own head. Therefore she now be- friends him ;—and the result is that you and I are disposed of here. Yes!—they had every reason to get rid of me,” continued the dame, with the most intense acrimoniousness; “ but it certainly is not quite so clear why they should have included you in the business. For surely by this time they have had enough proofs to convince them how meek, and mild, and forgiving you are!—how energetic, bold, and decisive in some respects— how feeble-minded, sentimental, and maudlin in others !” “Because I do not gloat implacably over ideas of vengeance as youdo?” I exclaimed, somewhat angrily : and then still more annoyed to think that I should have suffered myself to be irritated by the crone’s taunts, I said, “ But no matter!—you may think what you choose of me; for your opinion is really of the utmost indifference.” “ Well, at all events,” interjected the crone, now ee ee ee ee me ee em ee Oe ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. . affecting to chuckle for a moment, “those two—1I mean St. Clair and Lady Lilla—seem to consider you to be an object of alarm, since they have taken so much trouble to put you out of the way as well as myself. But of course I can understand their calculations,” continued the dame, more seriously : “they apprehended a thousand things in reference to vou! You could tell certain tales of the white rose; and they feared that because you had not gone forward, it was no reason why you should not appear as a witness at the twelfth hour. And then, too, they said to themselves that though you are so kind and good-hearted, yet that a sense of duty But what on earth is the good,” the crone interrupted herself, “ of indulging in this sort of speculation? Ah! the fellow told us that we ought to light the fire—and he was right: for I am perishing with cold!” “Then light it,’ I said; and I might have added that it was the sinister fire of the woman’s evil passions which had hitherto rendered her in- sensible to the icy cold which prevailed in that room. And I too was now suddenly reminded of the existence of this glacial atmosphere which was environing me: but I had hitherto failed to per- celve it im consequence of the excitement of my feelings,—an excitement which had been sustained by the rapid colloguy with the old woman. She now lighted the fire: and seating herself on an old garden-basket which was in the room, and which she turned upside down in order to make it serve as a stool, she stretched forth her skinny fingers to catch the genial warmth which the fire gave forth. CHAPTER CX, THE BILLET. Tavs was it that I again found myself a prisoner in this apartment belonging to the ruins of the farm-buildings! But on the former occasion what a different companion had [!—the amiable, the faithful, and the beautiful Beda! Now my com- panion was a horrible ugly old harridan who so far from having aught loveable in her character, had everything that was detestable. She wasa woman stained with crime; and though within the last forty-eight hours she had been serving my pur- poses in & good cause, yet this was far from suili- cient to atone for all her past iniquities. or to subdue the sense of loathing which for so many reasons I experienced at having such a com- panion. As for the room itself, the reader is already aware of the miserable nature of its appointments, —an old bedstead, an old ricketty tuble, a couple of chairs, only one of which was now serviceable ;— and the aspect of the place seemed very little dif- ferent from what it was when first I saw it between eight and nine months back. There were the two windows, both barred—one still having the wooden trap-door which Black Ned had put up against it to serve as ashutter—and the other having a little dingy piece of green baizo hung up to perform the part of a curtain. The walls all soiled and stained with the damp—the ceiling breaking in from the same cause—the dirt collected upon the floor— CORnNICLO@C)