Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

OO St Sar ee ae re ee nC ee ee ee 46 passed a sleepless night: he had an abashed, a diffident, and guilty air as he entered into my pre- sence. He closed the door behind him; and on perceiving how coldly severe my demeanour was, he seemed. to be overwhelmed with distress. Averting his countenance, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed audibly. Then bursting forth with vehement and passionate utterance, he exclaimed, “Oh! how the vices of men may lead to the most fearful consequences and hurry them onward unconsciously to the brink of crime! My father’s folly and his infidelity towards my mother gave birth to her who is my half-sister—accident threw me in her way—evil thoughts took posses- sion of me—and but for the sudden discoveries of yesterday a hideous crime might have been per- petrated !” “ T hope, my lord,” I said, “ that all this will prove a salutary lesson for you r “Oh! it will, it will, I can assure you !” he exclaimed, with unquestionable sincerity. “ It has rendered me an altered being. As God is my judge I am telling you the truth! Never, never again will I strive to seduce an innocent girl from the path of virtue! I am going abroad, Miss Percy—to-morrow I shall leave England. If henceforth you hear of me, it will only bein a manner creditable to myself; and if we ever meet again, you will not blush to know me. I do not ask you to forgive me for my past conduct ? “Remember, my lord,’ I said, “that in no sense do I stand towards you in a position which necessitates you to ask my forgiveness, nor which entitles me to expect such a prayer from your lips.” “Yes, Miss Percy! as the bosom-friend—as the more than sister of poor Mary, you have a right to demand proofs of contrition from me ; and you have the power to vouchsafe a promise of forgive- ness if my future conduct shall render me desery- ing of it! And there is another reason,” he con- tinued, hesitatingly and diffidently; “for there was a time when—and Ob! at that time I was an honourable young man—pure and uncontaminated and then I dared love you and in all sin- cerity offer you my hand fe “ Enough, my lord!” I interrupted him: and I could not help adding, “The Marquis of Dal- rymple of the present time is very different from the Marquis of Dalrymple of the other day. Look, my lord, at the whole tenour of your con- duct towards the unfortunate Mary Glentworth; and for ever blush for it as the darkest chapter in your life’s history! It was a tissue of the most complicated deceptions; and Ah, my lord! in one sense it furnishes the most potent reason why you ought to sink down with shame in alluding to whatsoever once took place between yourself and me. For what was your conduct to Mary Glent- worth? Accident rendered you acquainted with her: you became smitten with her beauty—you threw yourself in her way—you dared to talk to her of an honourable love—and yet it was the basest design which you cherished. Yes!—for it was no headlong passion which hurried you on: it was from the outset a deliberately conceived, and I may almost say a cold-blooded plan to ac- complish the poor girl’s ruin. You adopted a feigned name; and in case of any circumstance aris- ing to render correspondence necessary, you bribed <a eee ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. some underling at your Club to receive whatsoever letter might come addressed to you under that fictitious name. Was not all this the proof of a deep-laid and studied scheme of villany? But you did more! When you learnt, no doubt to your great surprise, that Mary Glentworih lived with me, you put forward all kinds of pretexts to prevent her from revealing the secret to my ears; for you dared not come to my house under your false name to woo her—and you dreaded likewise that I should detect and expose your wickedness before it was entirely consummated. Ab, my lord! I have heard from Mary’s lips all the sophistries whick you called into requisition to blind and to bewilder her, and to Jeave clear the pathway of villany along which you were drag- ging her towards the precipice at the end! When you think of all this, my lord, you must indeed feel that you have played a part on which you never can look back otherwise than with shame, remorse, and regret. And not even that love with which you say that I myself had some time back inspired you—not even the brotherly friend- ship which at that period you proclaimed towards me when you found that I would not accept your hand,—and not even the respect which you might have borne for one whom but the other day you professed to love,—no, none of these considera- tions availed to arrest you in the path of wicked. ness when once your mind was bent on rendering poor Mary Glentworth your victim !” I had not intended at the outset to make this long speech, nor even to condescend to enter into any details with the young Marquis apart from the business, whatsoever it were, on which he had sought an interview with me: but the subject grew upon me as I progressed—and thus was my discourse elaborated. Herbert Dalrymple was thoroughly abashed, cowed, crushed down: he was overwhelmed with shame and remorse. I con- tinued to speak mercilessly, because when [I per- ceived that he displayed a real contrition, I fan- cied that the castigation would prove beneficial to his future welfare. “But heaven was resolved,” I continued, “in its goodness and mercy to save you from the ac- complishment of an aim which in the long run would have proved to be a crime of darker dye and greater magnitude than you could have at first | conceived. Yes—heaven has been merciful to you, and has stretched out its helping hand to lift you from the precipice down which you were falling. Let all this be a lesson to you! f have spoken severely: there are deep wounds in your soul— and you may think that 1 have been probing them unmercifully. But I will confess that there is no need to despair of you for the future! All good principles and generous sentiments have not *been crushed out of you. If, my lord, you avoid evil society for the future—the gaming-table— and the company of those who make evil actions the subject of their applause, and who consider it manly to lead a life of profligacy and debauchery, —if you avoid such society as this, I say, you will prosper—you will redeem yourself—and you will atone for the past. Now, my lord, if I at first spoke severely, I have at last spoken hopefully ; and I will even go so far as to add that with a friendly interest shall I watch your future career.” ‘Generous Miss Percy!” exclaimed the young | ehook (EO)