Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 92: what you’re looking at

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ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, 79 place for a little ceremony that was about to ensue. Thither I accordingly led the way; and ina few minutes the lessee, at the head of his company, entered that apartment. He bore a superb piece of plate of most exquisite workmanship; and he addressed me in the following terms:— * Miss Trafford, I have on the present occasion to perform a duty which is alike fraught with pain and pleasure. It is associated with painful eelings, inasmuch as we are now assembled to mark your retirement from astage which you have embellished and adorned. But on the other hand my duty is a pleasirg one, inasmuch as it includes the presentation of this testimonial of the kind feelings, the sincere regard, and the genuine friend- ship entertained towards you by those whose sen- timents [ am now speaking. Miss Trafford, I should inform you that during the last few weeks a subscription has been privately made by the ladies and gentlemen present, and to which I have had the honour to contribute, for the purpose of presenting you at the close of the season some slight testimonial of our admiration for your bril- liant talents and our appreciation of your moral worth. Little did we foresee that the testimonial which was in preparation would be presented on your retirement from the stage, and that an in- scription to this effect would have to be substi- tuted for another already drawn up to express the hope that for many a long year to come you might continue to be the leading star of your profession. But while, Miss Trafford, we regret that you should be about to withdraw yourself from us,—yet on the other hand we offer you our sincerest congratulations that circumstances enable you to take this step. The public in general will be inspired by the same feelings as those which we now experience; and when the time comes for your retirement to be made known, there will be thousands and thousands ready almost to blame that fortune which in its kindness towards your- self proved unkind to them, by withdrawing from the theatrical sphere a star on which they so much loved to gaze. I will now say no more, Miss Trafford—unless it be to reiterate the earnest wishes and prayers of all now present for your health and happiness; and ever hereafter, amongst our reminiscences, one of the most agreeable periods of our lives must appear to have been that in which we had the honour to be associated with a lady who in every sense has commanded our esteem, our respect, and our admiration.” There was no dramatic pomposity in the de- livery of this speech—no attempt at theatrical display: it was spoken with a gentlemanly ease, and with much sincere and genuine feeling. I was greatly affected; but I composed my sensa- tions sufficiently to make a suitable reply; and when the ceremony was finished, I shook hands with all who were assembled there, one after an- other. The superb piece of plate which had been presented to me, was conveyed to my carriage, in which Mary Glentworth and I took our seats ; and we returned home. That testimonial had been given to me on my retirement from the stage; and as the reader may have gleaned from the tenour of the speech de. livered by Mr. Richards, there was an appropriate inscription. Possessed as I was of a large fortune, again return to that stage from which I had with- drawn ?—could I, on that day, while contemplat- ing the testimonial, have possibly foreseen that circumstances would sooner or later take sucha course But I am anticipating !—and I must resume the thread of my narrative. Two or three days after the scene at the theatre, I received a letter from my cousin Henry Wake- field, to inform me that he had arrived at Liver- pool, that Mr. Macdonald was there to meet him, and that within twenty-four hours after the re- ceipt of this letter I might positively expect to see him in London. What joy and happiness now filled my soul !—with what delight did I hasten to inform Beda of the safe arrival of my cousin in his native land!—and with what flutterings of the heart did I seek Mary Glentworth in order to re- veal to her a secret which she had yet to learn! I now told her of my engagement to my cousin: she asked me a thousand questions concerning him; and when I had informed her that he was about two years older than myself—tall, slender, and handsome, with dark hair, and large earnest brown eyes,—she exclaimed, « Oh, Ellen! how happy you ought to be, to know that you are be- loved by such an Adonis as you are describing !” This little incident, as well as a variety of others which I had at different times observed since the terrific exposure took place at Ardleigh House, proved to me that though Mary Glentworth might have ceased to love the Marquis of Dal- rymple, yet that her thoughts were frequently concentrated on that lost sentiment, and that she assuredly had a yearning to love and be beloved in return. Even at those times when she would assure me that the power of love was now dead within her, I felt certain that if was otherwise, and that it was merely in the bitterness of her feelings that she thus spoke—and not because she had the deliberate conviction that her youthful affections had all been blighted by the one cruel blow she had received. The hours passed away—evening came—and I thought it still probable that Henry might yet make his appearance that day. My heart kept fluttering with suspense at every sound that might seem to herald the approach of the fondly expected one: but at length the hour for retiring came, and my cousin did not make his appearance. “Within four-and-twenty hours after the re- ceipt of his letter,” I said to myself. “Ob, as- suredly he will keep his word—and to-morrow by breakfast-time he will be here !” It was a long while before I could get to sleep that night. Fondly and devotedly did I love my cousin: there seemed to be now no barrier to our union; and thus in a few weeks, or in a few months, so soon as all the arrangements should be made, our happiness might be complete. As I lay reflecting in this strain, 1 found myself wondering whether Henry would be much altered—whether the lapse of a year could have effected any con- siderable change in his personal appearance ? Then I blamed myself for being so foolish as to give way to such ideas; for his age was but twenty- two—and if there were any alteration in him até all it could only be for the better, and tending to give him @ more manly appearance. His forehead, I thought to myself, would still be the same high, eculd I conceive it possible thet I should ever | smooth, shining throne of intellicence—his dark a ——_—— iC NI CORNICE) eS SSS sss + tsstssenessnsss asses _— = eS (E@)