Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 395: what you’re looking at

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

E= ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. “T scarcely low what to think,” replied Her- bert. “ At first we had great hopes from the Genoese physician; but those hopes were* disap- pointed. Then we were led to expect great things from the Neapolitan physician: but alas! I begin to fear that the result will prove the same as it was elsewhere.” “And your lordship’s father,” I said,—“< how does he bear himself under-this calamity which has overtaken her Grace ?” “ You know wy father well enough, Miss Percy,” answered the young Marquis, “to be aware that he has not a heart ample enough to feel as he ought to do in such a case. It isa shocking thing that a son should be compelled to confess that there are times when he is disgusted with the frivolity of his own parent: but so alas! it is. He has got his friend Mr. Peaseblossom with him; and perhaps, after all, he is to be envied in respect to that absence of sensitiveness which prevents him from feeling the misfortune which has over- taken my poor mother.” It happened that the apartments which were allotted to the Marquis of Dalrymple at the hotel, were immediately above my own. Thus during the night which followed the day whereof I have been writing, I heard him pace to and fro for hours in his room ere he finally retired to rest. I therefore knew that he did indeed deeply feel the intelligence which I had communicated to him. CHAPTER CXXXT. THE FOLDING-DOORS, Soon after breakfast on the following morning, I embarked on board the steam-packet for Dover, The Marquis of Dalrymple accompanied me. He looked pale and ill: he spoke in a voice of pro- found melancholy ; and several times during the passage he said to me, “It appears to be alla dream! a vague and terrible dream !” Isurveyed him very earnestly on the third or fourth occasion when with a species of abruptness he made this remark to me; and I said slowly and hesitatingly, “ Perhaps, my lord, the time may eome when you will look back to this period and say to yourself that everything happened for the best! Nay, do not interrupt me—but listen for a few minutes!” I continued, my tone gaining firm- ness asl wenton. “ You will some day become Dake of Ardleigh: one of the proudest coronets of England will rest upon your brow ! You may then think to yourself that after all it is fortunate that circumstances did not compel you to fulfil the promise which at a period of the most magnani- mous generosity you had made! You may haply reflect that the Duchess of Ardleigh ought to be a lady taken from the ranks of the aristocracy—so that by position, or perhaps by wealth also, she might constitute a suitable match for one occupy- ing your proud eminence. If all this should be the case, my lord, you will not repine that heaven should have taken poor Mary so prematurely! but you may congratulate yourself on having been shielded and saved from becoming the victim of your heart’s own mistake !” “* By heaven, you wrong me, Miss Percy !” ejaculated Herbert vehemently. “I am surprised at you—-and your words add to my grief! You will not give me credit for a pure, sincere, and holy love for your deceased friend Mary !—you return again and again to harp upon a string which vibrates so paiafully to my heart’s core !— and if you had not proved to me the sincere and kind friend that you have been on so Many, Many occa- sions, I should be unable to answer you with ordi- nary patience. You wrong me! To°any other person [ should also say that Iam insulted! My heart has made no mistake. It has truly and faithfully loved Mary Glentworth: it now mourns for her with the deepest grief. This love of mine was not the fleeting caprice of the moment—it was not the passion of an hour: it has been tried by the lapse of time;—and this you know, Miss Perey! Ah,I see that because there was a period of my life which seemed so little creditable to me —when you discovered that [ was growing dissi- pated and a gambler—it is for this reason that you have never since entertained any real confi- dence in me !” “You are wrong—you are wrong, my lord!” I said ; “and I should not be justified in leaving you for another moment in sach anerror. By your conduct subsequent to the period to which you have just alluded, you have regained my good opinion and of this you are aware.” “Then why address me in these terms, so full of suspicion ?” exclaimed the young Marquis re- proachfully : “ why mistrust the strong love I felé for Mary? You did not thus speak to me when some months ago you consented that I should look upon her as my intended Wife. And is it now when the grave has received the lamented object of my love, that this love should become the sub- ject of distrust ? Oris it that you think I am unworthy to kneel, to weep, and to pray above the resting-place of the departed ?” “No, no, my lord!” I said, deeply affected. “I do not think so and pardon me, I implore you, if my language may have seemed too severe !” “ At all events,” rejoined the young nobleman, seriously, “if ever I had thought it worth while to play the hypocrite, it is not now that poor Mary is gone and that she is insensible to any word or deed on my part!” This discourse took place in the cabin of the steam-packet, where we were alone at the time; and in another half-hour we landed at Dover. “Tf you have no objection, Miss Perey,” said Herbert, “we will set out and walk. I should like to tread the path for the last time, which has been so often trodden by poor Mary—to look upon the picturesque cottage where so large a portion of her existence was spent—to wander through the fields where she has so often strayed and then,” he added, sinking his voice to a low and scarcely audible whisper, “to enter the churchyard and perform the duties which have now brought me to England !” “We will walk,’ I said: and I averted my countenance, for I was under the influence of emotions which I will not now pause to describe. We continued our way in silence, until the picturesque cottage was reached; and then Her- bert stopped short, leant upon the gate, and sur- veyed the scene. “Tt was in that summer-house,” I whispered to CORNICLOOOLK< es (E@)