Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 290: what you’re looking at

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

ee - ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS 277 I again made apologies for the necessity of taking my departure: I shook hands with Mrs. Barron and her daughter—I bowed with polite courtesy to Reginald—and in a few moments I was wending my way through the streets, back to the hotel,—thinking of all that had just occurred, and pitying the young artist for the infatuated passion which he had evidently conceived towards me. On entering the hotel, the waiter said to me, “If you please, ma’am, a person has left a port- manteau addressed to you. I said you were out: he answered that it was all right.” “T daresay it is,” I responded, instantaneously comprehending that this was my portmanteau which was in the postchaise at the time when the attack took place. I ascended to my apartment, to which the portmanteau had been borne; and I found that my surmise was perfectly correct. William Lardner returned at about two o'clock; and he placed a little paper package in my hand, observing that. Dame Betty had given it to him to be delivered to me. I had now nothing more to detain me at Petersfield: but still I scarcely liked to return at once to Kelvedon Hall; for as it was not my purpose to say anything in reference to the adventures of the past night, I saw that I should be compelled to pretend that I had been to London and that I had thus returned so soon again. Lord Kelvedon himself might begin to think there was something strange in these rapidly successive comings and goings; and the domestics would assuredly entertain that opinion. Besides, I was very much fatigued through having been up the whole of the past night, and through having spent it so wretchedly. Therefore, all things con- sidered, I determined to sojourn at Petersfield until the ensuing day: but I also purposed to keep entirely within the walls of the hotel in the meantime, so that the Barrons should not learn that I had remained in the town, and thereby have reason to feel offended at my having refused | to partake of their hospitality. Havieg thus made up mind to tarry at the hotel ustil the next day, I thought it better to send William Lardner back to London; for I felt tolerably confident that I should not stand in any further need of his services. I accordingly dismissed him with a liberal reward—bidding him thank Beda for her | kind consideration on my behalf, and to tell her that it would not be long ere I should return home avain. William Lardner took his departure: half-an- hour elapsed—and I was seated in my room at the hotel, reading a book which I had purchased, when the door opened and the waiter announced Mr. Barron. I started for a moment: I felt the colour come and go in quick transitions upon my cheeks. I was both indignant avd surprised; but I saw the necessity of instantaneously resuming an air of calm self-possession. The waiter withdrew: Regi- nald Barron stood before me. He wasin a sort of artist’s deshabillée when I had just now seen him at his mother’s house: he then wore a blouse, his collar was turned down, and his hair was in disor- der. Now he was apparelled in the raiment which was evidently bis best—a genteel suit of black, His hair was well arranged; and altogether he | certainly appeared to much better advantage than when I had just now seen him. I comprehended the truth in a moment :—he had studied to look his best at this interview. As if considering that it was quite an ordinary matter that he should thus have called upon me, I said with a polite courtesy, which was slightly cold, “I suppose, Mr. Barron, you have brought me some message from your mother or from your amiable sister P’’ “No, Miss Percy,” he answered: “ they do not even know that I have called.” “Then might I at once inquire,” I said, “ what is the business that has brought you hither P” “T could not have rested another hour,” ejacu- lated Reginald vehemently, “until I had given you an explanation! Pray therefore listen! You spoke to my mother of purchasing one of my pic- tures ? “And if I therein did wrong, Mr. Barron,” I said in &@ somewhat peremptory manner, “ you have my excuses. I now request that nothing more may be said on the subject; and you will be kind enough to leave me.” ** T cannot leave you!” he cried, with the same impassioned vehemence as before. ‘“ There must be an explanation !” * But I ask for none, sir,” I said, with a look and tone of rebuke. | “But there are positions, Miss Percy,” he quickly rejoined, “ where explanations may be given when they are not sought. This is now our case. I who was so bashful, so trembling and shrink- ing, that I dared not venture to knock at your door in London to beseech a moment’s interview with you,—am now bold enough to force myself into your presence! Yes—for ’tis you yourself that have made me bold!—you yourself that have given me this courage: for you have spoken hopefully and encouragingly to me and of me! Ah! take care, Miss Percy, that you have not driven me mad and wild with the intoxication of “Now, Mr. Barron,” I said, “if you be thus speaking with the enthusiasm of an artist elated by the honest opinion that has been passed upon his pictures, I can forgive you—I can even under- stand it. But if in any other sense you are ad- dressing me, I must desire—nay, command, that you at once take your departure.” “No, no!—you must and shall hear me!’’ he exclaimed, with vehemence of gesture. ‘“ Do you know why I have painted so many representations of your matchless beauty P—do you know why I would not sell those pictures for all the gold that the earth’s mines could produce? Do you know why my cheek is pale—why my form is attenuated —and why illness has fastened its claws upon me? bas dope eracaphag perhaps I know not but | something that is tearing at my very vitals! And I have said nothing of all this to my poor mother or my fond sister; for why should I render them unhappy? I have suffered in secret—in secret I must still suffer! I know that what I aspire to is hopeless: I see that your love can never be mine! But, Oh! Miss Percy, you need not have treated me with scorn and contempt at one 'moment—with that freezing, glacial politeness at another! You might have been more merciful!” I should have interrupted the young man—I PP) VOO (C(O) SS Or @)