Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, was not utterly depraved, and his conscience smote him severely :—“I have deceived you—I am not Clarence Beauchamp # A cry burst from the lips of Mary Glentworth as she started back from the arm to which she had been clinging; and she gazed with consternation and affright upon the countenance of that young nobleman. * But I swear to you,” he continued, with rapid and excited utterance, “that I will make you amends! My eyes are open to all your virtuous qualities—and I will lead you to the altar!” It was with a cry of joy that Mary Glentworth bounded back into his arms: the poor girl’s brain was in confusion—the shock which she had for an instant sustained by being told that she was de- ceived, had yielded to an equally sudden sense of delight on hearing that she should become the bride of him she loved. But rapid as the changes of the kaleidoscope, another phase in the hurried and excited drama was now to ensue. Literally wresting Mary from the arms of the young noble- man, the Duchess of Ardleigh exclaimed, almost with a shriek of mingled anguish and horror, Wretched girl! unhappy boy! ye know not what ye are doing !” “Madam, unhand me!” ejaculated Mary, her cheeks flushed with indignation. ** Mother,” exclaimed Herbert, “I will not be domineered over by you !” * Ah!” cried Mary, now smitten with a new cause of amazement and affright : “ the Duchess of Ardleigh your mother P O heavens! No, no! Say not that! But the Duke—the Duke - “Is my father!” cried the Marquis. “ Yes, my beloved! I am not Clarence Beauchamp— and you shall become the Marchioness of Dal- rymple !’’ “Oh, my God! is this possible P’—and now it was a wild cry of horror and distress that thrilled from Mary’s lips as she sank down on the carpet from the hold which the Duchess had laid upon her. “Good God! how can I make known the truth?” exclaimed her Grace. “ Be tranquil, Mary !—stand back, Herbert! It is your own half-sister whom you behold there!—the offspring of your father’s infidelity towards myself!” A groan of indescribable horror was but too fearfully indicative of the shock thus given to the wretched young nobleman: but for the moment I had no leisure to pay any attention to him nor to his mother the Duchess—for I was sustaining the half-fainting Mary Glentworth in my arms. I ~ had flown to her the instant she sank down upon the carpet, crushed, overpowered, almost annihi- lated by the awful revelation which had just been made to her that it was her own half-brother the Marquis of Dalrymple whom she had loved! Com. plete consciousness did not however abandon her: she became fearfully agitated—her bosom heaved and sank with convulsive sobs—the most piteous lamentations came gaspingly from her ashy pale lips—and with a nervous violence did she keep pressing my hand as I retained her’s in my clasp. I got her to a sofa—I entreated her to be calm— and I whispered to her in a tone of the most ear- nest prayer, “ You displayed courage and fortitude ere now in your dealings with the Duchess: for heavyen’s sake lose not your presence of mind 43 ata moment when it is more than ever necessary to sustain you!” I perceived that the unfortunate girl exerted a powerful effort over herself; and she said— though it was in a hollow voice that she spoke— Ellen, the calamity is frightful; but I will be courageous—I will be calm!” I now glanced towards the Duchess of Ardleigh and her son: they were whispering together in a corner of the apartment—the young nobleman leant against the wall—his countenance was as pale as death—his features had a look of unutter- able anguish. I could not see his mother’s face— her back was towards me; but it was evident that she was giving some hasty details explanatory in respect to Mary Glentworth. All of a sudden the young Marquis uttered an ejaculation as if his mind had thus abruptly taken some fixed resolve ; and striding across the room, he said to Mary Glentworth, “Pardon me for the past!—on my knees do I entreat your pardon. There was all along something which made me treat you with a degree of respect—though to my shame and sorrow I confess that my intentions were vile to a degree! Forgive me—for God’s sake forgive me! You are my sister—and whether so acknowledged or not by my family, yet in that light will I regard you —will Ilove you—will I cherish you—will L protect and defend you!” No! that young man was vot utterly depraved ! All the natural generosity of his disposition—all the native magnanimity of his character, were now asserting themselves and rising dominant above other influences and feelings. He sank upon his knees: his countenance wore a look of ineffable anguish and entreaty as he made this appeal to Mary and took her hand. For an instant she abandoned that hand to him, and a violent struggle was evidently taking place within her. But it was only for an instant that she thus remained a prey to doubt and indecision: the next moment her re- solve was taken. Abruptly withdrawing her hand, she started up from her seat; and with indignant looks, she exclaimed, “ Rise, my lord!—kneel not to me !—ask not a pardon which never can be ac- corded !” “Speak not thus, Mary my sister!’ cried the young nobleman, quitting his suppliant posture, but now joining his hands in anguished entreaty. “You will drive me mad—you will plunge me into despair, if you refuse to accept whatsoever atonement I offer for the past !” “JT will receive no boon, no favour, no kindness from any member of the Ardleigh family!” and Mary’s voice was sombre and gloomy, but stern and decisive; and Oh! it was terrible to think that one so young, not yet twenty years of age, should become acquainted with calamities and feelings which thus influenced her speech and her language. “The Duke of Ardleigh was the betrayer of my mother—and in this light only can I henceforth regard him! The Duchess of Ardleigh has in. sulted me with her insolently-profferred charities : but, Oh! infinitely worse, has been your conduct !” —and here she bent her eyes with the bitterest reproach upon the countenance of the young Mar- quis. ‘‘ You sought to ruin me—you deceived me with a display of affection—you were gradually winding your meshes about me your character must be infamous! I now hate you—L hate every (COMMU IOOK (CO)