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 THE 
 
 ACTRESS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRESENT DAY, 
 
 ^^ Know you not, Mistress, to some kind of Men 
 Their Graces serve them but as Enemies ? 
 No more do yours j your Virtues, gentle Mistress, 
 Are sanctified and holy Traitors to you. 
 Oh ! what a World is this ! when, what is comely 
 Envenoms her that bears it———." 
 
 As yoo XIKE IT. 
 
 " Be thou as chaste as Ice, as pure as Snow, thou shalt not 
 ^scape Calumny." Hamlet. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR JAMES HARPER, 46, FLEET-STREET. 
 
 1817.
 
 W. f Imt, Pf later, OU Baiky, loitdoru
 
 
 A D VERTISEMENT, 
 
 A.MONG the multiplicity of works which 
 daily issue from the press, it may be en- 
 quired, what novelty can attach to the pre- 
 sent performance ? It is, therefore, thought 
 necessary only to state, that almost every 
 page contained in the following sheets ex- 
 hibits an authentic detail of facts, collected 
 from an immense body of documents, in 
 which the villainy of hypocrisy is justly ex- 
 posed, and held up to public detestation ; 
 while the virtuous mind, harrassed by the 
 snares of temptation and insult, finally tri- 
 umphs over every artifice of calumny and 
 slander, and arrives at dignity and honour.
 
 tHE 
 
 ACTRESS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRESENT DAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In delineating the Actress of the Present 
 Day, we do not mean to bring into pubhc 
 view the offspring of imagination, highly 
 coloured with fancied excellence, or var- 
 nished over by a partial hand, concealing 
 imperfections, or placing the picture in 
 the fairest light. 
 
 We are happy to observe, that a pro- 
 fession, undoubtedly one of the most 
 difficult to excel in, since it requires a 
 combination of personal and mental endow- 
 ments, has been filled at all periods, but 
 still more recently, by characters, both 
 male and female, whose eminent abilities 
 not only justify our warmest encomium 
 and pubhc patronage, but whose private 
 worth and domestic virtues amply over- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 balance in the estimation of the intelligent 
 and discerning, the few deviations from 
 rectitude, the errors of indiscretion not of 
 confirmed habit, which the merciless tong^ue 
 of slander never fails to exasfSferate. 
 
 In justice to the subject, the scenes and 
 portraits we sketch are taken from real and 
 actual life, from human nature, as it exists 
 at this very da}^ As the Dramatis Personfe 
 of the w^ork we now present to our readers, 
 is not entirely composed of theatrical pro- 
 fessors, the scenes and characters are neces- 
 sarily varied ; some in humble and retired 
 ]ife, many of elevated and titled rank, and 
 yclepd honourable : their features, however, 
 are not the less prominent, nor less worthy 
 of animadversion; and. though under fic- 
 titious names we veil reality, we are by no 
 means apprehensive that our pencil will, 
 w^hile it faithfully pourtrays, be deemed 
 libellous ; for though we 
 
 " Nothing extenu;) tie, 
 
 Nor set clown aught in malice," 
 
 We have touched with a light and lenient 
 hand, the errors and prejudices of the great ; 
 but hypocrisy and mnsked villainy we have
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. S 
 
 Stripped of their garb, and held them up 
 to public detestation. 
 
 Thank Heaven ! we now live in an age, 
 when the sun of liberality begins to disperse 
 the dark mists of uncharitable ideas, a,nd 
 inveterate, rooted prejudice. The stage, 
 its professors, and its votaries, once the 
 theme of enthusiastic denunciation, is now 
 no longer the topic of calumny, except with 
 the designing person over his deluded fol- 
 lowers : the utility of dramatic exhibition 
 is now candidly confessed, and was esta- 
 bhshed by the most enlightened nations of 
 antiquity; and the historian can draw no 
 truer picture of the manners and morals of 
 a state, than what the style and sentiments 
 of its dramatic productions constantly dis- 
 play. If we revert to the age of Charles IL 
 we may readily form a just idea of the 
 morality of that licentious reign, from the 
 highly censurable dramatic works then 
 countenanced. 
 
 *« Then sprightly Comedy, facetious maid, 
 Courted by all,' her various charms displayed, 
 And conscious that she was by all admir'd. 
 Sometimes her lovely form too loose attir'd. 
 Here then, indeed, may Cynics justly rail, 
 And th* institution with some truth assail, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 While Comedy licentious sway'd the age, 
 Well might they censure the corrupted Stage; 
 But since refinement and a better taste 
 Have prun'd at leisure what was penn'd in haste; 
 Since Sheridan^ in sterling wit refin'd, 
 Can laugh, yet lash the follies of mankind ; 
 Since Cumberland can both correct and charm, 
 Cowley and. Inchbald critic rage disarm ; 
 fyivice younger Colman^ borrowing Shakespear^s fire, 
 ' The *' Heir at Laiv'^ in genius to his sire, 
 Can virtue advocate, and vice deride. 
 And right John Bull, the Englishman' a Fireside ; 
 Why should not all unite in the defence 
 Of such a pleasing treat to men of sense ?" 
 
 We believe most pepple will agree in the 
 truth of the above candid hnes, and confess 
 that the theatrical productions of the present 
 day have undergone q material alteration 
 for the better, at least as to wiom/ tendency. 
 We wish not to advert to that mixed species 
 of dramatic art called Mclo-Drame of foreign 
 extraction, the whim, we trust, only of the 
 day, and not likely to obtrude itself much 
 longer on the taste and judgment of a 
 British audience. 
 
 If, therefore, dramatic writing meet general 
 support, and its professors, who personate 
 that difficult science, and embody the spirit 
 of their author, are rapturously applauded,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. O 
 
 according to their respective merits, how 
 comes it, when stripped of their robes and 
 pubHc character, they are thought no more 
 of, or, if mentioned as private individuals, 
 it is w^ith sang-froid^ with an apathy bor- 
 dering on contemptuous indifference ? This, 
 we are sorry to observe, has been, and still 
 is, with some two or three exceptions, the 
 melancholy truth ; but were those prudent, 
 circumspect, and fastidious rejectors of 
 private intimacy, to be more thoroughly 
 acquainted with the retired, truly amiable, 
 and domesticated virtues of by far the ma- 
 jor part of the theatric Community, they 
 would confess their suspicious reserve un- 
 generous and unfounded. 
 
 How is it, that artists, painters, sculp- 
 tors, architects, and musical composers 
 experience royal favour, and are dignified 
 with knighthood P Is it, that those pro- 
 fessors are gifted with more genius^ or, that 
 their respective arts and sciences are intrin- 
 sically more sublime and more difficult of 
 attainment ? Can the mere copyists of 
 nature, and adepts in mechanical science, 
 however excellent, vie with nature herself P 
 Must not the actor, to arrive at eminence, 
 combine the gifts of symmetry of person,
 
 6 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 power of modulation, of expressive features 
 variable and commanding, and above all 
 possess a soul and understanding, highly 
 cultivated, to be able to identify the part he 
 assumes ? These are rare qualities, indis^ 
 pensable in ^i^ vocation, and perhaps more so 
 than in any other. 
 
 To rescue the profession, particularly the 
 female branch, from such ill-grounded pre- 
 judice, from envious^ calumny, and censure, 
 as false as it is malevolent ; to render their 
 private worth as conspicuous as their public 
 talent ; to make the one the object of open 
 countenance, respect, and esteem, as the 
 other is already of public admiration ; we 
 have ventured to draw, with few deviations, 
 the exact lineaments of a living character, 
 harassed and oppressed in obscurity, rising 
 by humble merit and superior talent, 
 through a cloud of difficulties, like virgin 
 gold, from the iiery ordeal of temptation 
 more pure and uncontaminated ; silencing 
 b}'^ her conduct all rooted antipathies, and 
 evincing, that modest worth will at lengta 
 force respect and countenance from the 
 most disdainful and fastidious. In this 
 portrait, we do not paint a 
 
 •* Rara Avis in Terras ni^rcqne simillma Cygno /"
 
 THK PRESENT PAY. 7, 
 
 No, we can instance niany^ who equally 
 claim universal esteeni, as they do public 
 approbation; who, 2iS daughters^ ^s sisters, 
 as wives, as mothers, and as friends, are 
 models for imitation ; whose private virtues 
 it may be in the power of all to emulate, 
 but to whose talent and acquirements very 
 few can equally aspire. 
 
 If it be expected, that a mere detail of 
 theatric adventures, ludicrous ^ituations^ 
 and tragical events, should occupy the fol- 
 lowing pages, the admirers of such, though 
 they are not wholly excluded, will be com- 
 pletely disappointed. We deal not in the 
 marvellous, in sly peeps behind the curtain, 
 nor in green-room anecdote, so nearly allied 
 to scandal. Our pencil is neither dipped in 
 gall, nor pointed with sarcasm ; we give a 
 faithful outline and narrative of recent facts ; 
 we set before our readers a mirror, wherein 
 many may view themselves, and acknow- 
 ledge the justness of the features, which 
 are neither heightened by flattery, nor shaded 
 with the deeper tints that rigid truth might 
 warrant : candour has guided our pen, and, 
 we trust, a generous and discerning pubhc 
 will approve and sanation the present 
 undertaking.
 
 8 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " But why, in the name of propriety," 
 said Mrs. Hamilton, *' do you trouble me^ 
 about a girl, who, from an obstinate pre- 
 dilection for a way of life so repugnant to 
 female delicacy, as every respectable woman 
 must think it, has rejected advice, and will 
 pursue her own destruction." 
 
 " I cannot," said Mrs. Mildmay, •' view 
 either her conduct or her prospects in that 
 ^vere and uncandid light. You were both, 
 ladies, the constant visitors and intimate 
 friends of the family during their prosperity ; 
 why then, are you so very tenacious, that 
 now, from a reverse of fortune, the orphans 
 are no longer deemed worthy of your 
 notice ?'* 
 
 " Would you have me, r^adam, a woman 
 of my scrupulous opinions, and respectable 
 character, to countenance an actress^ since 
 such is her determination ? Can I, after such 
 an avowal, be seen in her company, much 
 less can I invite her to my house ?'* and 
 Mrs. Hamilton darted a look of seeming 
 contempt at her acquaintance, before esteem- 
 ed her most intimate friend. 
 
 " But the elder sister Hester^^ returned 
 Mrs. Mildmay, " has evinced no such 
 choice ; on the contrary, she is extremely
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 9 
 
 displeased with the step Mary has resolved 
 on/' 
 
 " There she is right/' returned Mrs. 
 Hamilton ; " but she is a vulgar creature, 
 notwithstanding the education that both have 
 received : in short, it has been thrown away 
 upon the one, and will prove ruinous to the 
 other." 
 
 " I hope not, madam," said Mrs. Mild- 
 may ; " but I shall see you and Mrs. For- 
 tescue, at the auction to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Perhaps you may," replied the other 
 coolly. 
 
 " Are there any bargains to be had there, 
 think you?" asked Mrs. Fortescue, " if 
 so, " 
 
 ^' You will doubtless be present," re- 
 turned Mrs. Mildmay ; " but surely, madam, 
 the chosen friend of their departed parents 
 will overlook the idea of bargains^ when the 
 9ale of the property so disposed of, is for 
 the use of the surviving orphans. I little 
 thought it would have come to this !" added 
 she, with a sigh. 
 
 " Then you must have been blind," said 
 the latter lady. " I foresaw the ruin long since, 
 before the mother's death." 
 
 " And you never offered your friendly 
 B 5
 
 10 THE ACTliESS OF 
 
 counsel; you, who partook almost daily of 
 their hospitality !" 
 
 • ' " Where was the use, to a family so 
 incautious and extravagant?" replied Mrs. 
 Fortescue. *' Mr. Irwin was the most impro- 
 vident man living.'* 
 
 " He has left very few like him behind/' 
 
 " I should be sorry he had left any" re- 
 plied Mrs. Hamilton : '" he has, 1 hope, 
 completed the catalogue of suicides.'' 
 
 " Save this last unfortunate event,'' said 
 the friendly advocate, " his character was 
 spotless ; his death, I am positive, was 
 caused by accident, and was not premeditated, 
 as was supposed ; he was a gentleman of the 
 most liberal principles" 
 
 *' Libertine^ you mean," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Hamilton, " if we may judge by the manner 
 of his death." 
 
 " I say liberal^ madam," returned Mrs. 
 Mildmay warmly : " he possessed the most 
 feehng heart, the most unbounded philan- 
 thropy : he was, in short, a friend to everj^ 
 person upon earth." 
 
 *' But himself" Mrs. Fortescue sharply 
 replied. 
 
 '^ No man's enemy." 
 
 *' But his o?t?/?," continued the other.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 11 
 
 " I deny that," said the friend : " he was 
 ruined by the villainy of an agent: he had 
 embarked in mercantile pursuits, and entered 
 into speculations, under prospects delusively 
 held forth ; which at length " 
 
 ." Ended in self-destruction," returned 
 Mrs. Hamilton with a bitter frown, " A 
 pretty way to satisfy his creditors." 
 . " He made application to my husband," 
 added Mrs. Fortescue, " for the loan of 
 a^500, but a fortnight before he made away 
 with himself. The foolish man of mine 
 would have complied, had I not warned him 
 against it. Thank Heaven ! We are not 
 sufferers." 
 
 " Have a httle more charity," cried Mrs. 
 Mildmay, " in j^our words at least, ladies, 
 if not in your actions." 
 
 " The grandfather of tliese girls," said 
 Mrs. Hamilton, " I have heard, was a digr 
 
 nified clergyman, and Dean of C- : he 
 
 put this son early into the army, and he rose 
 to the rank of major. Why did he not 
 continue there ? he might then have fallen 
 honourably by the hand of the enemy, and 
 not by his own. Shame ! he has jbrought 
 .disgrace upon his family and upon all his 
 connections."
 
 12 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " He was severely wounded/' said the 
 benevolent lady, " in his last action abroad, 
 which unfitted him for service, and, in con- 
 sequence, he sold out. By the insidious 
 advice of a pretended friend, he commenced 
 mercantile speculations, but, ignorant of its 
 principles, his confidence in others was mis- 
 placed, and terminated in his ruin ; yet, I 
 can never believe a man so truly pious, and 
 a constant churchman, could be guilty of 
 premeditated suicide." 
 
 " It was brought in insaniti/^ was it not ?" 
 asked Mrs. Fortescue. 
 
 - " It was, madam : such a verdict was pro- 
 nounced; but one gentleman present ob- 
 served, that the deed was committed by shot 
 from a fowling-piece : it seems, that very gen- 
 tleman, and the late unfortunate Mr. Irwin 
 had been firing at a mark a few days previous, 
 and had agreed to decide their wager on the 
 afternoon of that unhappy morning : he had 
 not drawn his charge when they gave over ; 
 and forgetting that, he incautiously loaded 
 the piece in his chamber, without prior exa- 
 mination, and the double charge by some 
 accident v/ent off, and the whole contents 
 entered the brain through his eyes, and 
 caused his almost instant death."
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 13 
 
 " This is possible/' said Mrs. Fortescue ; 
 *' but the state of his affairs, and his altered 
 looks of late, led to a different verdict. 
 Some thought it ought to have been brought 
 in felo de se /'* 
 
 " That would have been too bad," ob- 
 served the charitable Mrs. Hamilton, " it is 
 bad enough as it is. Well, I shall call in, 
 perhaps, to-morrow, and see how the things 
 go off: the furniture was expensive, and his 
 side-board elegant. He was a man of taste. 
 Will the creditors have all ? Or will they 
 compound ? If not, there will be little left 
 for the daughters." 
 
 '' There will be, I trust," said Mrs. Mild- 
 may, " sufficient to satisfy his creditors, and 
 leave a somethins: for his children." 
 
 " The son is a lieutenant, and now abroad 
 with his regiment, is he not ?" enquired Mrs, 
 Fortescue. 
 
 " You ought to know, madam," returned 
 Mrs. Mildmay ; " you were more intimate 
 with the family than I ever was : it is 
 since their misfortunes became known to 
 me, that my friendship commenced." 
 
 " Very considerate, and very ^^wcommow," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Fortescue, smiling^ '' There
 
 14 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 are but few, I believe, of yoiir turn of 
 mind." 
 
 " I should be sorry to think myself sin- 
 gular, madam," returned Mrs. Mildmay, 
 and then instantly separated from her com- 
 panions. 
 
 We shall now pay a visit to the house of 
 woe, for woeful was the change, occasioned 
 by the loss of the best of fathers. This 
 house, once the seat of rational festivity, of 
 literary intercourse, of domestic endearment, 
 of individual friendship, and extensive cha- 
 rity, was now converted into a deserted man- 
 sion, and shunned, as if some demon occu- 
 pied the solitary premises. Whether the 
 recent shock of the late disaster had affected 
 the delicate nerves of its former friends and 
 visitants, and their religion^ tenets made 
 them now shun that place as contagious, 
 which could never be passed without the 
 almost daily professions of disinterested and 
 unalterable attachment in the sunshine of its 
 prosperity : certain it is, those summer 
 friends shivered as they passed, though it 
 was now the meridian of the sultry dog-days. 
 None of the many, save two or three, whose 
 old-fashioned opinions circumstances could
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 15 
 
 not alter, ventured to penetrate the awful 
 gloom, and offer condolence to the forlorn 
 offspring ; the only remaining inmates, ex- 
 cept two faithful domestics, an old nurse and 
 a porter, who had formerly been a corporal 
 in the major's regiment. 
 
 The few old-fashioned remaining friends, 
 were the Rev. Mr. Percy, Mrs. Mildmay, 
 and Mrs. Forester. iSIrs. Mildmay we have 
 already mentioned, as a warm advocate for 
 the family, though comparatively a stranger. 
 Mr. Percy had indeed many former obliga- 
 tions, as through the interest of Dean Irwin, 
 he enjoyed a small living in the neighbour- 
 hood. The dean, while he lived, was his 
 patron ; he had been a school-mate with the 
 son, and was but a few years older ; and 
 their intimacy was renewed on his quitting 
 the army, and setthng in business. Mrs. 
 Forester was the widow of an eminent mer- 
 chant, who had died much poorer than was 
 expected, leaving her only an annuity of 
 3001: ; the rest of his property descended to 
 an only nephew : this young man, who was 
 bred to the bar, was honourably descended 
 by the mother's side, being first cousin to 
 Sir William Rosebury, a baronet of 16,000/. 
 per annum. Mrs. Forester had never seen
 
 16 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 him, since a child; he was bred at Eton, 
 sent to Oxford, had travelled a short conti- 
 nental tour, and had chosen, on his return, 
 the profession of the long robe, where his 
 talents gave early prospect of success : he 
 was highly accomplished, possessing genius^ 
 taste and judgment. The widow had been 
 the select and chosen companion of the late 
 Mrs. Irwin, when they were girls ; no won- 
 der the connection strengthened with their 
 years, from sirnilarity of tastes and disposi- 
 tions. She now lived retired, and occupied 
 a neat cottage, which she rented of our or- 
 phan's father. In this amiable woman, 
 Mary experienced a second mother. 
 
 This lady possessed a mind of a superior 
 cast, enlightened by education, extensive 
 reading, and a knowledge of the world : from 
 the polished circle in which she shone dur- 
 ing her husband's life-time, her sentiments 
 were liberal, and her heart generous ; but 
 her limited means now curbed its overflow- 
 insrs, and restricted those extensive favours 
 it formerly had delighted to confer. The 
 sisterly affection she bore to her late friend, 
 had ri vetted more than ever the husband's 
 respect and esteem, and the truly parental 
 solicitude she evinced for the children left
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 17 
 
 behind, rendered her society more particu- 
 larly agreeable and advantageous. Her pe» 
 netration soon discovered a wide difference 
 in the temper and talents of the two daugh- 
 ters, Hester and Mary : in their early child- 
 hood it was visible, and as they grew, it 
 daily became more apparent ; their persons 
 and features proved their near affinity, their 
 opportunities were the same, and their edu- 
 cation equal, but their dispositions were by 
 no means similar. Hester resembled the 
 frosty, overcast and cheerless month ot 
 March^ her chilling aspect and occasional 
 gusts of ill-subdued temper, nipped esteem 
 in the bud, and blighted expectation ; while 
 Mary represented May in all its glowing 
 tints, diffusing sweetness and animating joy 
 around. 
 
 Mrs. Forester's strong sensibility and re- ' 
 fined taste rendered her an enthusiastic ad- 
 mirer of the works of genius, particularly the 
 Drama. She would frequently read detached 
 scenes from Shakespear, Rowe, and Otway, 
 when her clear tones, her graceful, just, and 
 emphatic delivery ; her animated eye and 
 countenance, fixed and charmed the atten- 
 tion of the listening Mary, who thus early
 
 l.§ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 began to perceive the beauty of language, in 
 the true dehneation of the varied passions. 
 
 Observing her aptitude, her ardent glow 
 and susceptibility, Mrs. Forester vrould ex- 
 plain and comment upon obscure and difficult 
 passages. Mary v^^ould then take up the 
 book, and read to the astonishment and 
 admiration of her preceptress. Milton was 
 a particular favourite with both, and shared 
 their observations and attentive perusal. 
 This intelligent lady delighted likewise in 
 the Comic Muse, which she would introduce 
 to vary their readings, and she found Mary 
 highly relished the higher walks or scenes of 
 polished life : her conception was equally 
 just and brilliant, her manner graceful and 
 elegant, with a naivete peculiarly her own. 
 
 " ^Tis well, my dear child,*' Mrs. Forester 
 would often say, " that fortune and your ex- 
 pectations in life placed you far above the 
 temptation of the Stage, or I know not what 
 might be the consequence." 
 
 " Very true, madam," Mary would reply, 
 " I am happy to think so, for though a plea- 
 sant study for occasional recreation, I feel it 
 would be a most laborious pursuit as the 
 means of support."
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 19 
 
 ii( 
 
 You are right, my dear ; we have 
 scarcely a soHtary instance of any rising to 
 eminence, who have not been bred to it from 
 infancy, and born in the profession." 
 
 Little did either of them think, when 
 such conversation passed, that in less than 
 twelve months after, necessity w^ould force 
 Mary to employ those talents for bread, 
 which then served to amuse her leisure 
 hours. 
 
 The morning of the auction now came, 
 and Mrs. Forester, accompanied by the 
 Rev. Mr. Percy, paid an early visit lo the 
 disconsolate Mary. They passed Hester 
 with a friendly and tender salutation, who 
 was busily employed below, arranging the 
 lots of plate, china, glass, paintings and pic- 
 tures, and talking to the auctioneer and his 
 man, relative to the sale and furniture. 
 Hester bitterly complained to them, when 
 they enquired after her sister, that Mary had 
 laid the weight of the morning's business on 
 Aer, and yet she no doubt expected to have 
 an equal dividend. 
 
 Alas ! poor Mary's thoughts were far 
 otherwise employed ; for when the worthy 
 visitors entered her retired apartment, they 
 found her dissolved in tears.
 
 20 THE ACTRESS OF , 
 
 Mary had ever since the elopement of her 
 father's unfaithful agent and partner, who 
 had decamped and set sail for America, with 
 upwards of 12,000/. foreseen with a palpi- 
 tating and boding heart, the fall of their for- 
 tunes, and the effect so great a loss would 
 have upon her affectionate parent, though 
 she by no means anticipated the lamented 
 and shocking catastrophe, which had oc- 
 curred, and deprived her and her sister of 
 their only support. She had privately pon- 
 dered on the line of life she should embrace, 
 should adverse fortune compel her to such a 
 step. Something whispered her, that the 
 abilities she possessed, as justified by her 
 worthy friend Mrs. Forester's opinion, might 
 sanction a theatrical attempt ; but her heart 
 sunk within her, at the difficulties that lady 
 had suggested, and the utter impossibility of 
 a novice, one not bred to the business, ever 
 arriving to that excellence in the profession, 
 which might palliate the undertaking, and 
 remove the opprobrium too generally and 
 ungenerously attached to it. Vanity did 
 not lead her astray, and she acknowledged 
 the truth and justice of the observation. . 
 
 Sometimes she had thoughts of becoming 
 a governess in some family of distinction,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 91 
 
 but that precarious and humiliating situation 
 ill suited her independeut spirit ; the sudden 
 and alarming death of her father at length 
 determined her. She beheld her destitute 
 prospects, and saw the shyness of former 
 friends degenerate now into total neglect and 
 contempt. " I cannot fall lower in their es- 
 timation ; and their opinion and regard I hold 
 in equal inditTerence: it matters little what 
 line of life I may engage in for them." 
 Thus resolved, she wrote to Mrs. Forester, 
 and requested her to exert her interest to 
 procure her a situation in some eligible pro- 
 vincial theatre. 
 
 The letter was penned in haste, and di- 
 rected to her friend ; but the postman, through 
 some mistake, delivered it to Mrs. Fortescue 
 instead of Mrs. Forester, for both ladies 
 were near neighbours. 
 
 Mrs. Fortescue was quite astonished at 
 the contents, and the very impudent and 
 presumptuous request it contained. " What 
 could possess the girl ?" cried she, '' to write 
 to me such stuff. I hold no intercourse 
 with such people." On reading further, she 
 discovered the mistake, and examining the 
 superscription, found a blot had fallen on the 
 latter part of t^e name which caused the
 
 22 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 postman's error, for their address was the 
 same. She re-sealed it and dispatched her 
 servant with it to the right owner. 
 
 But the news was fallen into good hands ; 
 for, at the next card party, Mrs. Hamilton, 
 Mrs. Chater, Mrs. Fairbank, Mrs. Packer, and 
 Lawyer Strange, became acquainted with the 
 particulars : and the " School for ScandaV* 
 on that evening, was performed by the com* 
 pany present in complete perfection. 
 
 Mrs. Forester was therefore not surprised 
 at Mary's letter, and, on mature reflection, 
 hastened to comply with her request. She 
 was formerly an avowed amateur, and a con- 
 spicuous patroness of many theatres. She 
 had been personally known to several mana- 
 gers, who were proud of her interest and 
 good report. 
 
 On this relying, she immediately wrote to 
 
 the manager at , recommending Mary 
 
 in the warmest terms. The letter she re- 
 ceived in answer was highly gratifying and 
 satisfactory, and she now repaired with the 
 good Mr. Percy, on the morning of the 
 auction, to communicate the tidings and lay 
 the contents before the desponding Mary. 
 The letter was as follows :
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. T^ 
 
 *' Madam, 
 
 " Though my company is nearly full, 
 and I make it a general rule, to engage none 
 but studied persons, of some experience, 
 with a satisfactory reference to some respect- 
 able theatre, as to their abilities and utility; 
 yet, having the utmost reliance on your 
 judgment and veracity, I w^ill make an open- 
 ing for the young lady you are pleased so 
 warmly to recommend ; and, if after a 
 month's trial, she answers my expectations, 
 I shall be happy to enter into articles with 
 her for twelve months certain, at our highest 
 salary 2/. lOs. per week, the year round. 
 
 I shall be proud to meet her at , as 
 
 we open there the first week in , our 
 
 time of annual engagements being past. I 
 have strained a point to oblige a lady I so 
 highly respect, and am, madam, 
 
 " Your truly obedient servant, 
 
 August Uh. " J. P .'' 
 
 " There, my dear girl,*' said her affec- 
 tionate friend, "I havecomphed with your 
 wishes, and have the satisfaction to find I 
 am not forgotten, and that I still retain some 
 interest. I fancy, however, that the chanieje
 
 24 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 in my circumstances has not reached his 
 ears, or I had not so readily succeeded." 
 
 The tears that now ghstened in Mary's 
 eyes, were those of gratitude ; she pressed 
 the hand of her benefactress, and grevr 
 more calm. " Heaven guard thee, my sweet 
 child,'* continued the widow with a benig- 
 nant smile, " and dii-ect thee for the best. 
 Had I the means or capability of furnishing 
 you a more eligible mode of life, how wil- 
 lingly would I offer it, as you must quit 
 your present abode in a few days, for the 
 house and grounds must hkewise be sold 
 to the best bidder. I need not say how wel- 
 come you will be to me, nay, even for life^ 
 I may add. However, I applaud your in- 
 dependent principles, of earning your own 
 subsistence, and in no other pursuit can I 
 perceive you so likely to succeed. Your sala- 
 ry and - benefits will maintain you with 
 economy, in decent respectability, as to 
 worldly concerns ; but it depends wholly 
 upon your own conduct and rectitude of 
 principle, to obtain that true respect with 
 the worthy and discerning, which splendid 
 talents, though they create admiration, 
 cannot alone command. Gifted as you are
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^5 
 
 by nature both in person and in mind, 
 blest with youth and health, you enter into 
 a line of life, surrounded with unusual 
 difficulties and temptations ; let not vanity, 
 the bane of our sex, lead you astray ; listen 
 hot to flattery, th^Lt poison to youthful minds: 
 — ^be patient, be assiduous, be persevering, 
 nor suffer example, prevalent as it may be, 
 to induce you for a moment to swerve from 
 that inflexible rectitude, those unerring vir* 
 tuous principles, it was the pride of your 
 departed parents to witness you inherited. 
 I have little doubt of your gain'm^ public 
 approbation in your profession: but be it 
 your principal study, my dearest girl, to 
 command their private estimation, and the 
 approval of your own heart ; then, may you 
 face the world and all its censures." 
 
 " Never can I, madam,'* exclaimed Mary 
 with fervour, " forget this friendly counsel ; 
 never, I trust, forego those precepts so 
 carefully instilled by my angel mother, and 
 continually inculcated by the tenderest of 
 fathers. Oh ! never> never ! Grant me. 
 Oh ! gracious Providence ! thou Father 
 of the orphan and defenceless ! thy favour 
 and almighty protection ; strengthen me to 
 persevere in right, and to resist the snares, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 that will, I fear, surround me !" And she 
 cast her lovely eyes up to the Throne of 
 Mercy in humble and pious supplication. 
 
 Mr. Percy took her hand. '' I had my 
 fears," said the good man. '* I trembled 
 with apprehensions at the perilous onset in' 
 the line you have undertaken ; not from any 
 idea of your failure, but from the exposure 
 youth and inexperience like yours must 
 unavoidably encounter ; but those fears are 
 over : I rest satisfied on your firm rehance, 
 not on your own strength, but on Him^ who 
 alone is able and willing to support our 
 weakness, and guard innocence from decep- 
 tion and oppression. You must pay me a 
 visit shortly, and I shall give you an intro- 
 ductory letter to an old. college friend of 
 mine, who will on my account make a 
 party to support you. Come, Mrs. Forester, 
 let us descend to the auction, and see how 
 things go off; perhaps our bidding may en- 
 hance the sale." On this, they took an affec- 
 lionate leave.
 
 THE PRKS£M DAY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The sale had commenced, and was goitig 
 on briskly, many carriages drew up, and 
 Mary could perceive from the windows of 
 her chamber, the faces of several of her 
 father's former pretended friends and con- 
 stant visitors as they alighted, but whose 
 calls had wonderfully decreased since the 
 knowledge of his misfortunes, and whose 
 sympathy was entirely withdrawn from his 
 children, on the news of his disastrous 
 death. 
 
 She heaved a heavy sigh at the recollection 
 of the past. " Yes," she exclaimed ; " ye 
 heartless sycophants, ye could daily feast 
 on the inconsiderate hospitality of your too 
 generous friend, but were invisible in the 
 hour of misfortune, and could cruelly stab 
 his reputation with calumnious censure, 
 and load his memory with unmerited re- 
 proach. Now, now ye can re-appear, when 
 curiosity or interested motives lead you 
 hither, to bid for that property, of which 
 you formerly envied its possessor ! And, do 
 
 c 8
 
 38- THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 my eyes deceive me ? Do I behold my 
 venerable aunt^ the only sister of my 
 mother ! The pious Mrs. Gordon ! And 
 her spiritual guide, Mr. Solomon Saintbury ! 
 Can she, w^ho had forsworn for years all 
 sisterly affection and inter<:ourse, can ^he 
 epter at, such-> a time the house oi dissii, 
 pcUion^^d irreligiam revclrt/i, as she has 
 often termed it, to make an adocmtagfious 
 puA chase, M^en tfe^ ,tie^; of blood could 
 noi i nd u ce her to prpfane . her footsteps on^ 
 aiij* /orm^r occasion ; evei^j in the pressings 
 Xji3^'^-^i sickness ditx^ dissolutwnd" 
 
 Thus absorbed^ she was rowaed. by the 
 s.i:Wtd.eni. entrance of her sister; Hester, who 
 immediately exclaimed, " what is the mean- 
 iag.of that picture ^till hanging there ? Wliy 
 is. It not among, thosp allotted for sale ?" 
 
 " You would ^iQt sell the likeness of our 
 father?" cried Mary, lookiiig in her face 
 with astonishment. 
 
 u Why not ?" returned the elder sister. 
 " Has he not reduced us to beggary by ex^ 
 travagance ? Has he not brought perpetual 
 shame and disgrace upon ii? by his last rash 
 act ? There is little reason in that conduct 
 to prize his likeness." 
 
 «« Cruel Hester! You should be the
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 29 
 
 last to Upbraid the memory of a father, 
 whose kind indulgence to his children was 
 -his greatest fault. You are no stranger to his 
 large losses, "and the treacherous villainy of 
 -his partner, which latterly so iaffected his 
 mind. Have m^cy then ; revere^ and dori*t 
 asperse his honoured name !" 
 
 " 1 don't asperse him, I only say what's 
 true,'* cried Hester. "His name is prettily 
 biandied about below among the bidders. I 
 am almost ashamed to be seen by them." 
 
 " Indeed, sister, I do not think your 
 presence there is at all necessary, or be-- 
 coming ^tthi\s juncture." 
 
 " It little matters to me what you think ; 
 but our aunt is below, and so is the good 
 Mr. Saintbury ; they have had many ar- 
 ticles knocked down to them very cheap : 
 they came out of respect to our mother!" 
 
 " I hope," cried Mary, " that was their 
 motive." 
 
 " But I want that portrait," continued 
 Hester:^' there are many enquiring for it, 
 and I dare say it' will fetch a good price. 
 
 " Were it to fetch thousands, I cannot 
 consent to part with it. Dear, unhappy 
 parent ! May the tears of pitying affection, 
 thy countless charities, wash out thy .mis-
 
 30 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 deeds ! May the imprisoned father's gratitude 
 for liberation, his prattling offspring's joy, 
 and the overcharged tear of thankful sen- 
 sibility, that sprung from the full heart of 
 his wife, as she clasped her returning hus- 
 band to her arms, be freshly seen in the 
 calendar of thy virtues ; and oh ! may the 
 Angel of Mercy dip his golden pen in that 
 shining drop of grateful essence, and with 
 it obliterate the terror-striking deed of self- 
 destruction, if temporary frenzy led thee to 
 commit it !" 
 
 " You talk finely of his charities ! Will 
 the scores of pounds he has thrown away 
 upon trumped-up tales of distress, come 
 back to us now, in the time of our need ! 
 -Those he has set up in his days of prosperity, 
 will now see us starve, and glory in our 
 reduction/' 
 
 " The sin will fall on their omn heads, 
 and not on ours," said Mary. " The Creator^ 
 not man, rewards or punishes." Her full 
 and lovely eyes were upraised for an instant, 
 then fell on her sister, who had taken down 
 the picture, and was about to depart with 
 
 it. 
 
 " Hold, Hester ! for pity and for dutys 
 
 sake. If ever a spark of filial respect and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 51 
 
 !ove possessed your bosom, let me entreat 
 you to forego your purpose." 
 
 " Indeed but I shan't though," returned 
 the unfeeling girl with a sneer, *' Dear ! 
 What a look was that ! You will make a 
 fine tragedy actress^ I dare say." 
 
 " I hope I shall make my hearers feel^^' 
 said Mary. 
 
 " You'll make fine speeches enough, I 
 waiTant, and be the town-talk, as you are 
 at present : the whole room is full of your 
 wicked intention, and our good aunt is dis- 
 tracted at the impiety of the step you have 
 resolved on/* 
 
 " I shall leave you, sister, to console her, 
 I envy not her partiality towards you ; but 
 for this picture, 1 cLiim it from my poor 
 father's promise, who said I should have it 
 when I married, or left home." 
 
 " Yes," retorted the other, " but he 
 thought his darling would marry a fine 
 gentleman, and have an elegant house . to 
 hang it up in ; or, that when she left home, 
 it would be under different circumstances, 
 not as she is at present^ . a romantic and 
 distressed fine lady 1" 
 
 " Most true !" groaned Maiy. 
 
 " You perhaps can live on your fine feel'
 
 32 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 ings, but r require ^woncj/, that will afford 
 more substantial nourishment. Mr. Saint- 
 ?bury wishes to see it ; he \vill give ten 
 pounds for it, and let me tell you, in our 
 situation ten pounds is a sum.*' 
 
 " Look Onrthat face," said Mary, turning 
 'the picture to the light, *' the face of your 
 affectionate father ! The eyes beatn Svitii 
 tenderness on you, and the whole counte- 
 nance wears a melancholy reproachful look, 
 •as if beseeching his child's pr<!)tection. Gh 
 Heavens ! Hester," cried she, kissing the in- 
 sensible canvas, and overcome by her sister's 
 sordid apathy, " can you part with it? 
 Cold lies the original in a new-made grave, 
 and never can return to us ; but this epitome 
 ought to be our constant gu^st. Oh! my 
 father! my dear -father ! A little month 
 ago I kissed thy fond cheek, and had a 
 smile, and sweet smile of delighted pride in 
 return ; but now, the same expreission is for 
 all. The cruel and the kind '■ are before thee, 
 and each share ahke the placid beam of 
 that senseless imaged eye !" 
 
 " Let go the picture," cried Hester, "for 
 I will have it. What romantic «tCiff!. What 
 a fuss about a picture !*' 
 
 " The moneys produced by the sale of
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 33 
 
 tlie goods is to be divided between iis/^ said 
 Mary, sternly regarding her unnatural sister. 
 
 ." Yes," returned the other ; '' but 'tis 
 very hard the elder should have nothing 
 more than the younger." 
 
 *• Ten pounds is the sum Mr. Saintbury 
 said he would give for this ?" 
 
 " Yes^** answered Hester. 
 
 " Here are Jive pounds." Mary opened 
 her purse : — " that is your share, take it ; 
 I give up mine ; and now / am the possessor, 
 the lawful owner of my father's portrait." 
 
 Hester was confounded, and looking into 
 hei; sister's purse, exclaimed, " why you 
 have left yourself but a few shilhngs and an 
 odd half guinea ! Why^ what an extravagant 
 ibol must you be; to give away all your 
 money for a bit of canvas." , 
 
 " You think so, doubtless ; but," sighed 
 Mary, " we could never understand thefeeji- 
 ings of each other." 
 
 " Well, I have no right to complain," 
 answejed the sister, putting up the money ; 
 *' but I still think you a fool, not to let 
 Saintbury pay the 10/. for you would then 
 have 10/. in your pocket, instead of throw- 
 ing 5/. away, but you are just like bur father, 
 who never knew the value of money." 
 
 c 5
 
 5i XME ACTRESS OF 
 
 ** It is enough, you are satisfied, and the 
 dear likeness is mine V* 
 
 " One would think you had got di prize-!* 
 exclaimed Hester, observing the pleasure 
 that sparkled in her sister's eyes ; " but where 
 will you put it, destitute as you are? It is 
 very large, the frame is curiously carved, 
 and richly gilt; it is by far too elegant to 
 place in a paltry room." 
 
 " Be that as it may, the same roof shall 
 shelter us, be it mean or splendid. I shall 
 take it from the frame, and roll it up among 
 my clothes ; it will travel without injury/' 
 
 " And what's to become of the frame ?" 
 gaid Hester, eyeing it wishfully. " It is too 
 good to be thrown away, it will fetch some* 
 thing, I dare say ; but that's of no conse- 
 quence to tne^ you despise money.** 
 * *' I despise avarice, as much as I do 
 want of feehng; but you may have the 
 frame, since you covet it so much." Saying 
 this, Mary undid the tacks, which held in 
 the canvas, secured the precious hkeness in 
 her largest trunk, and gave the frame to 
 Hester. 
 
 - '' Well, after all your sense, which my 
 father boasted of so much, vou have done a 
 very silly thing ; you might have sold the
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 35 
 
 frame for three pounds at least, then you 
 would have lost but two ; but now, you are 
 quite over-reached/' 
 
 *' Be generous then for once," said 
 Mary, " and return me three of the five I 
 gave you, for well you know I want it." 
 
 " No, 710," replied the cunning sister ; 
 *' thank you for that ; \f ^oii don't know your 
 own interest, / do mine. As to your wants, 
 they are only of your own making. You 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself, to disgmce 
 me and your family, by vagabondizing it 
 on the stage, and strolling it about the 
 country, a precious crew for your associates 1 
 i shall disown you for my sister." 
 
 " I doubt you not, nor shall I be anxious 
 to reclaim the affinity." 
 
 " Aunt Gordon and Mr. Saintbury are 
 waiting in the parlour to talk with you. 
 The auction is now over for the day. They 
 will rate you roundly for the shameless 
 and sinful course of life you have chosen ! 
 Gh! I am shocked at you! I have no 
 patience with you." So saying, she fl unced 
 out of the room, dragging the frame along 
 with her. 
 
 As Mary knew that her aunt was the 
 only remaining relative, and natural guur-
 
 $6 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 dian to her ^nd her mster, for her brother 
 Edward was full twenty-four, and what^ 
 ever might be the amount to be divided, 
 would in all probability be lodged in that 
 lady's hands, she foresaw she must meet 
 her indignation sooner or later, before «he 
 quitted, perhaps for ever, her native resi- 
 dence. She therefore summoned resolution 
 to encounter her aunt's pious upbraidings, 
 and the cutting invectives conveyed under 
 the guise of godly admonition from the 
 lips of Mr. Solomon Saintbury. 
 
 Of this man, being a principal character 
 in our scenes and portraits from real life, 
 we shall just draw a sketch, and leave him- 
 self to fill up the outline. Descended from 
 poor but honest parents, he was first taken 
 out of compassion by Mr. Chandler, a 
 principal shopkeeper, grocer, and draper^ 
 in the town of our heroine's nativity, as his 
 errand-boy, to carry out parcels, assist the 
 porter, and perform any little menial ser- 
 vices required. 
 
 His master, observing his humility and 
 assiduity increase with his years; for from 
 his youth, he could assume the semblance 
 of virtue, though he had it not, at length ad- 
 ii^nced iiim, aad placed him behind the
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. gj 
 
 counter, to serve in his shop : in short, he 
 took him as an apprentice, and taught him 
 his business. Mr. Chandler being a serious 
 xind well disposed man, of sober habits and 
 strict integrity, was much pleased at the lad's 
 discreet behaviour, and admired the zealous 
 attention he paid to the admonitions and 
 -pious exhortations of Mr. Townsend, a cele- 
 brated preacher, who weekly honoured the 
 town with his presence, in his itinerant 
 Tound, and took up his abode with the family 
 during his stay. 
 
 Keen and observant, with a smooth and 
 plausible countenance, young Saintbury 
 could not avoid noticing the powerful influ- 
 ence Mr. Townsend held over his flock, and 
 *m particular over the wife of his master: 
 nothing was omitted to make him welcome, 
 nothing thought too expensive for his en- 
 tertainment, and when he departed, his 
 saddle-bags were stuffed with good things of 
 ^drtkly produce, while he gave them, in re- 
 turn, his spiritual benediction. Treasuring 
 this in his mind, and comparing the advan- 
 tages that might probably accrue to^ himself 
 by adopting those tenets, our young shop- 
 man- cultivated an intimate aequaintaftce with 
 the preacher, was -constant in attendance,
 
 38 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 and followed him like a shadow ; he had a 
 clear voice, and his manner of singing the 
 hymns met the rapturous praises of the 
 devout frequenters of the conventicle : his 
 hair and clothes now wore a more formal 
 cut, and his words and actions bespoke a 
 solemn deportment, so that in less than two 
 years from the expiration of his apprentice- 
 ship, he was admitted a member of the elect, 
 was allowed to *be a chosen vessel, and 
 a most promising candidate for the evangelic 
 chair. 
 
 His master and mistress were both ad- 
 vanced in years ; Mr. Chandler*s health had 
 long been on the dechne, and in four years 
 from the time we are speaking of, this good 
 man paid the debt of nature, leaving no 
 issue ; his widow became possessed of all his 
 property, which was not inconsiderable for 
 a country dealer. The widow was incon- 
 solable. She was afflicted with cramps and 
 spasms in the stomach, and her grief in- 
 creased them, so that she often applied for 
 ease to some cordial of an exhilarating kind : 
 being an illiterate woman, and now wholly 
 occupied in spiritu-a/ (not ous) concerns, 
 the management of the shop and business 
 devolved on Mr. Solomon Saintbury. This
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 39 
 
 pious young man was not so absorbed in 
 heavenly contemplation, not to cast his eyes 
 below and meditate on sublunary things ; 
 a fair prospect lay before him ; a rich old 
 woman, with a comfortable home and thriv- 
 ing business, was not to be passed over by 
 one of his disinterested turn. 
 
 Accordingly he began to play his cards, 
 (though he never touched a pack,) with con- 
 summate skill and address : he echoed the 
 widow's sighs ; he was already a great fa- 
 vourite, he plied her with devout rhetoric ; 
 and supplying her with her beloved cordial, 
 he poured out holy protestations of angelic 
 love, and poured out with his own hand the 
 reviving cup of consolation ; he pressed his 
 suit, he pressed her hand, he pressed her 
 lips, and at length succeeded, for in two 
 months — two ? 
 
 ** Nay, not so much, fiot two. 
 Ere yet the salt of her most righteous tears 
 Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
 She married !'* 
 
 He now became a man of some conse- 
 quence in the town and throughout the 
 neighbourhood ; he instituted a class at his 
 house, and at length became a public
 
 40 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 preacher of exemplary zeal ! Not long after he 
 commenced an intimacy with Mrs. Gordon. 
 This was the eldest sister of the late Mrs. 
 Irwin, the mother of Hester and Mary, 
 She was a widow of good property, chiefly 
 vested in the funds, of weak intellects, and 
 an enthusiastic turn. She was a customer 
 to the shop, and a great admirer of Mr. 
 Saintbury's preaching. She was soon ad- 
 mitted a conspicuous member of his class ; 
 perceiving whom he had to deal with, he 
 studied her disposition, flattered her under- 
 standing, and was so unremitting in his at- 
 tentions, that in a very few years he became 
 her sole guide and adviser in every spirituai 
 and temporal concern, insomuch that he at 
 length assumed an absolute control over her 
 opinions and her ^ocA:£?^. 
 
 Mr. Irwin's family, through Mrs. Gordon's 
 recommendation, dealt largely at his shop, 
 and he gave them extensive credit, as sup- 
 posing Mr. IrAvin a man of opulence ; but 
 judging from the close ties of intimacy be- 
 tween his proselyte and her sister, that she 
 would leave her property to the family, he 
 first sowed a coolness between them, by 
 lamenting the dissipation and extravagance 
 of Mr. Irwin, his profligate expenditure and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 41 
 
 ill directed bounty; and above all, his te- 
 jecting his Spiritual counsel, and treating his 
 •opinions with Contemptuous neglect, which 
 argued a hardness of heart, and a state of 
 utter reprobation. Thus assailed, the terrified 
 •widow dropped all intercourse, and a total 
 alienation of affection from her relations suc- 
 «ceeded to his wish. 
 
 And here we must request our readers 
 to observe, while we reluctantly bring to 
 light the dark workings of a bad heart; truly 
 regretting that religion should be made a 
 cloke for temporal purposes ; and that our 
 regard for veracity compels us to be thus ex- 
 plicit. We must here protest against the 
 smallest reflection intended to be insinuated 
 towards any particular sect whatever. It is 
 the -indiviekeal olone that we are forced, for 
 truth s sake, to particularize. Experience 
 unfortunately proves, that unworthy mem* 
 hers, with deceptive manners and deport- 
 ment, will insinuate themselves, and disgrace 
 the most respectable professions ; ^ nay, even 
 the most sacred : biit with as much justice 
 may it be argued, that in pourtrayuig the 
 hauteur of the proud and worldly dignitary 
 we mfean to east a general stigma on the 
 Established Church. iVo, we utterly disclaim
 
 42 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 any such allusion : we combat no doctrinal 
 points ; but bigotry is antichristian, and 
 genuine religion is evinced by universal 
 charity : in fact, it is the leading feature of 
 the Gospel; for St. Paul emphatically re- 
 marks: " If I have not charity, I become as 
 sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal : nay, 
 though I have all faith, so that I could 
 remove mountains, and have no charity, I 
 am nothing." 
 
 It is the uncharitable quality of bigotry 
 which we would fain resist, which has, and 
 still marks as profane the profession we 
 wish to defend as a useful and liberal art. 
 We trust this digression will be pardoned. 
 
 On a meeting of the creditors of the un- 
 happy father of Hester and Mary, Mr. So- 
 lomon Sain tbury most charitably observed, 
 that he could by no means listen to the idea 
 of any composition, though first proposed 
 by Nathan Barclay, a quaker merchant, and 
 the principal creditor ; a man of apparent 
 rigid austerity, as far as looks authorised the 
 supposition. Saintbury contended, it was 
 lenity ill bestowed, a crying sin and injus- 
 tice to themselves ; the manner of Mr. 
 Irwin's death convinced him of the badness 
 of his principles ; and the children of such
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 43 
 
 a man should suffer for the sins of the 
 father. 
 
 Mary having now composed her agitated 
 spirits, descended to the parlour. On her 
 entrance, Mr. Saintbury was pacing the 
 room ; he stopped, and surveying her from 
 head to foot, lifted up his eyes and gave a 
 hollow groan : her aunt, who was seated on 
 a sofa, echoed him in a long drawn sigh, 
 while Hester stood at the window, suppress- 
 ing a smile, but inwardly enjoying her sis- 
 ter's embarrassment. Mary drew a chair 
 and sat down opposite her aunt. 
 
 After a long pause, Mr. Saintbury thus 
 proceeded : " Your worthy and affectionate 
 aunt, forgetting all worldly considerations, 
 and the pious resolution she has so long ob- 
 served, that, of quitting all intercourse with 
 tho^e so ill deserving her regard ; neverthe- 
 less, actuated with a holy zeal, (the bowels 
 of her affection still yearning with commi- 
 seration,) has sent for you, young woman, to 
 warn you from the yawning gulph of perdi- 
 tion, which now with devouring jaws stands 
 open and ready to swallow 3^ou." 
 
 " Oh ! too true," exclaimed the aunt, 
 with an exceedingly heavy sigh. 
 
 *' But finding her feelings overpower her..
 
 '^ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 "^le ha« commissioned me, to endeavour, rf 
 possible, ere it be too late, to snatch you 
 fr(^m the 'brihkrof destruction. 'You are on 
 a precipice, girl, afrightful precipice ; your 
 ibrain is turned giddy with vanity, and go 
 one step farther, ahd you iumhle^ tumble^ 
 plunged into the imfathomable abyss of ever- 
 lasting ruin." 
 
 " Well, Sir," said Mary, bowing. 
 ^^Well /'* re-echoed Saintbury, casting up 
 •his eyes. ''^ Well! call you thdXwell which 
 iseals your condemnation, not only in this 
 world, and in the opinion of all pious Chris- 
 tians, and the general consent of mankind, 
 hut hereafter^ past redemption. Lost ! and 
 miserable creature ! Are you not going to 
 embrace a way of life, utterly incompatible 
 with rehgion and the precepts of the Gos- 
 pel, by a lewd exposure of your person on 
 a public stage ^ for the amusement of pro- 
 fane scoffers ?" 
 
 " You judge too harshly, Sir," said Mary. 
 *' I embrace it not from a belief of its being 
 a wicked course of life, for I believe it pos- 
 sible for a woman to be virtuous in any ocr 
 cupation/* 
 
 " Not on the stage ** cried the preadier. 
 " Impossible !"
 
 THE PHliSKNi. DAY. 4i 
 
 " I ^sep your prejudice is asi rooted an^/ 
 unalterable^ as it is ungenerous and ground*- 
 less,; but I assure you,. Sir* ihat^ as 
 well as many other institutions and profes*^ 
 sions, time and experience have amended; 
 and improved/* 
 
 " Not before it was; wanted," said. Hes- 
 ter. " What a set were in Farmer Johnson's 
 barn last winter !" 
 
 " Aye !" answered Sain tbury. " A horrid, 
 wicked set! The disciples of Belial, and 
 worshippers of the Beast ; a lure for run away 
 apprentices and cast-ofF mistresses : but they 
 soon disappeared : the deep snow prevented 
 many idle persons throwing away their 
 money, and they were starved out ; other* 
 wise the magistrates, at my request, would 
 have dispersed the herd of iniquity." 
 
 " There are many of the theatric profes- 
 sion, of which there are^, as in others, dif- 
 ferent gradations, who, notwithstanding the 
 illiberal odium too frequently cast upon 
 them, are worthy imitation for their private 
 virtues and amiable qualities," said Mary, 
 
 " Not one," interrupted the preacher. 
 
 " Your pardon. Sir ; I could instance 
 many" replied Mary, " of very recent date, 
 without mentioning those actresses, who, by
 
 46 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 elevated marriages, have incontestibly proved 
 the propriety of their previous conduct." 
 
 " Do you hear that ?" exclaimed the sis- 
 ter. " Oh ! the vanity of this world ! If she 
 does not think to catch a lord, by going on 
 the stage! Ha! ha! ha!'* 
 
 i' I cannot laugh," said Mrs. Gordon, '• at 
 such shocking immorality and contempt of 
 godly advice ; tears of sorrow fall for her 
 sinful and perverse conduct/' 
 
 " I am not, sister," answered Mary, "an 
 adventuress, seeking by the exposure of my 
 person a splendid establishment : far from it, 
 my views are more limited ; my only aim 
 is, to gain an honest and respectable subsis- 
 tence by the cultivation of my talents. I 
 was bred to no business. 1 was born, at lea^t, 
 to different views; but in no other Hne can I 
 so well succeed, or my success teem with 
 profit as that arising from public appro- 
 bation." 
 
 *' Respetfahle subsistence I" cried the 
 preacher. '' What a mockery, and perver- 
 sion of words, when applied to the most in- 
 famous of all pursuits : bitter must the bread 
 be, that is swallowed from the woges of in- 
 famy, from the dereliction of all female de- 
 licacy, and even decency- from the prostitu-
 
 TH£ PRESENT DAY. 47 
 
 lion of your talents at least, on a public 
 stage, exposed to the caprice and derision of 
 every clown, and liable to be hissed and 
 pelted for their pleasure and diversion. 
 Respect! that proves the respectability of 
 your stage-players; the respect they are 
 held in by the world in general." 
 
 " Can't she go as teacher to a school, or 
 set up one herself?" cried the aunt. " She 
 might soon get twenty or thirty children 
 round about here, at a groat or six-pence a 
 week ; or go as lady's maid ? Better be a 
 kitchen wench, a scullion, a sifter of cinders, 
 a scouref of pots and kettles, than follow 
 that abominable course of life. '^ 
 
 '^ As to the first, madam," returned 
 Mary, *' I must undergo never-ceasing toil 
 and confinement for a miserable pittance ; 
 and for the latter, I have not learned submis- 
 sion enough to be a servant." 
 
 *' I perceive," replied Saintbury with a 
 contemptuous look, " that a mistaken va» 
 nity prevents your industry in a sober line 
 of life ; or rather idleness^ and a dissipated 
 inclination, makes you prefer the stage to 
 servitude." 
 
 '* Idleness!" exclaimed Mar v. "Alas! 
 how cruelly are you prejudiced ! Incessant
 
 46 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 »tudy joined to brilliant talents only, can 
 procure fame for those who are emulous- to 
 excel." 
 
 " But the temptations/* returned the 
 preacher, with less severity in his looks and 
 maamer, " the vicious opportunities such a 
 life of exposure affords- to the profligate, are 
 serious evils, Mary ; and render it impossi- 
 ble for a modest woman to become an ac- 
 tress. That is m^^ Jivm opinion, and the 
 sentiment of all ra^io«a/ and well disposed 
 persons.'^ 
 
 " Every young w^oman, Sir,'^ answered 
 our heroine, *' is liable to temptation, be her 
 rank or occupation what it may. A theatric 
 life is probably more exposed to envious 
 slander and the jaundiced eye of inveterate^- 
 spiteful prejudice, than a less public station ; 
 the shghtest error and indiscretion- of- an- 
 actress is magni6ed into a hideous size by- 
 the severe optics of her observersi while the 
 crimes of their own society are viewed 
 through diminishing glasses, or wholly 
 screened from observation, lest they should • 
 reflect disgrace on themselves; but an- ac- 
 tress is cruelly situated. She is open to 
 malice, iew contradict report, or defend her 
 from calumny ; she stands alone^ a^ a mark
 
 THE PRESENT DAA^ 40 
 
 to shoot the poisoned arrow at ; and braves 
 the pelting of the pitiless storm of censure, 
 which never-tempted maidens may choose to 
 inflict ; but without temptation there can 
 be no resistance^ and without resistance 
 there can be no virtue*^ 
 
 " Since then, Mary,^^ returned Mr. Saint- 
 bury, with a placid and beseeching smile, 
 " you are so well aware of the difficulties 
 and perils of that degrading course of life, 
 why expose thy lovely person, and thy fair 
 name to the just opprobium that must inevi^ 
 tably follow. Turn, sweet child of an unfor^ 
 tunate father, turn from thy evil ways, aban- 
 don thy sinful resolution, and listen to the 
 voice of truth and piety. ^^ 
 
 " And where is that voice to be found ?^^ 
 cried Mary. 
 
 '' Listen unto me, Mary,'' exclaimed the 
 sanctified preacher : "hearken unto the 
 voice and admonitions of the chosen servant 
 of the elect : become a member of my class, 
 I will charitably shelter and cherish the re- 
 turning prodigal ; thou shalt abide in my 
 dweUing, be received under my roof as my 
 disciple; I will administer the crumbs of 
 comfort to thy sinful soul, hand thee the cup 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 of spiritual consolation, anoint thee with the 
 holy balm of contrition, and guide thy foot- 
 steps in the way of righteousness l^' And 
 he approached to take her by the hand ; but 
 she indignantly shrunk from his touch, and 
 her patience being exhausted, thus replied : 
 
 " Thou specious hypocrite ! Thou sanc- 
 tified impostor ! I reject thy offer with ab- 
 horrence and disdain ! It was thy piety, thy 
 Christian zeal, that rent asunder the ties of 
 blood and sisterly affection ; that filled the 
 mind of my poor deluded aunt, and steeled 
 her heart for years against the claims of 
 kindred, and shut her ears to the voice of 
 common humanity, which the sympathy of 
 strangers would blush to withhold, even in 
 the trying hours of sickness and approachilig 
 dissolution ! Oh ! never can 1 forget it ! 
 My dying mother sent me with a request to 
 see you, madam, that all past differences 
 might be forgiven and obliterated ; your 
 pious monitor there, then present, confirmed 
 your wavering mind, and rendered you deaf 
 to the all-powerful cries of nature, and you 
 came not. She expired, without seeing 
 you ; though with her dying breath your 
 name escaped her. She was bwicd, and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 61 
 
 her sister, her only and beloved sister, fol- 
 lowed not her corse, nor dropped one tear 
 upon her grave ! '^ 
 
 " Cease your wicked and profane rail- 
 ings,^' exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, " against 
 that exemplary and heavenly man ; nor 
 shock my feelings with the mention of that 
 sister's name, who obstinately refused my 
 pious warnings, and the offer of his spiritual 
 admonitions ; rejecting divine grace, and 
 persisting in the vanities and delusive plea- 
 sures of a sinful world ; but I henceforth 
 disown you, and transfer my regard wholly 
 on your worthy sister/' 
 
 " That you have done, madam,'' cried 
 Mary, " long since ; and I envy her not the 
 happiness of your tenderest affection; for 
 she stands in need of it : as she is, if pos- 
 sible, more destitute than I, she has less abi- 
 lity to help herself; may her gratitude make 
 you a suitable return ! As my resolution is 
 fixed, and my engagement settled, f;-om which 
 it is neither my interest nor inclination to 
 recede, I only claim that portion from the 
 profits arising out of the sale, to which a fair 
 division, be it much or little, may entitle me: 
 this is but just." 
 
 *' I hope," cried Hester, " you mean to
 
 52 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 take another name, and not disgrace that of^ 
 Irwifi, in the mad and impious career you 
 have resolved on ?^^ 
 
 '*' The name of Irwin is my pride, my 
 boast ; I shall keep it in remembrance of a 
 once respected family ; I shall study to pre- 
 serve it unimpeached, as a stimulus for vir- 
 iiious exertion; without that, I should be 
 poor indeed !" 
 
 " There; there,^' exclaimed Hester, al- 
 most choaked with passion. " I thought so ! 
 Thou shameless girl ! You may ruin your- 
 self, since vou are so determined, and weU 
 come ; but to involve /ng, who am innocent^ 
 and detest the stage, to implicate me in yOui 
 disgrace ! Oh ! 1 shall die^ when 1 see thti 
 name of Irwin posted up against every wall 
 in tile country ! Oh ! oh V here she sat 
 down and burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 '' Thou unfeeling obstinate V^ cried Saint- 
 bury with returning acrimony, " canst thou 
 see thy sister, the pious Hester's tears un- 
 moved ?"*/ 
 
 " When they spring from rancour and 
 nialevolence,' ^ answered Meiry, " they move 
 me not : they are not worthy my concern." 
 
 ic Wretch ! reprobate ! retire :" exclaimed 
 the preacher, his eyes flashing with resent-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 63 
 
 men t, " nor longer profane nor insult our 
 sight with thy unhallowed presence !'^ and 
 he stamped and traversed the parlour with 
 furious strides, 
 
 " Not till my aunt promises, to see jus- 
 tice done me : the sale will be over in a day 
 or two: I shall require a small sum for ti^- 
 yelling expences, and to furnish some neces- 
 sary articles in my profession : that granted, 
 the remainder may lie in her hands ; but I 
 must set off early in the next week/^ 
 
 '-^ No" vociferated he with an exulting 
 and Inalignant smile : " not one shillings 
 not one penny will she advance, with my 
 consent, to aid your sinful purpose. Would 
 you be instrumental, madam, to her utter 
 ruin.^ Withhold the means, and you are 
 free from participating in her guilt ; but 
 otherwise, you, to a certainty, aid and abe 
 her impious design." 
 
 " True, thou conscientious, worthy, and 
 considerate man, my best of friends and ad- 
 visers," exclaimed the deluded aunt : '' what 
 should I do, but for thy heavenly counsel ? 
 No, I cannot consent ; not one farthing shall 
 she touch. She is not yet of age^ nor till 
 then, entitled to any ; let her wait till then ; 
 three years is not long."
 
 d4f THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 *' I cannot wait three days/' cried Mary 
 in agitation. ** Oh! aunt, dear aunt, for 
 joz/y, mercy^s sake.'* 
 
 *' No, I cannot, 'tis in vain ; my con- 
 science will not suffer it ; I should be an 
 accomplice. Heaven preserve me from the 
 power of Satan !" 
 
 " Amen/'' responded Mary, as she 
 cast a severe and indignant look at the hypo- 
 critical preacher. 
 
 ' " Come, my worthy madam ; come, 
 Miss Hester, let us retire to my house,** 
 said Saintbury, " and leave this wicked girl 
 to herself. You have washed your hands 
 at least from her undoing." Thus saying, 
 and taking both their hands, he led them 
 from the apartment. Mary returned to her 
 chamber, in all the agony of disappointed 
 hopes, and burst into a flood of tears.
 
 THE PRESExNT DAY, 30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Our poor heroine, thus cruelly and mali- 
 ciously disappointed under the specious 
 pretext of sanctity, paced her room in the 
 most embarrassed state of mind ; all her 
 hopes depended on this small supply. She 
 had to travel upwards of two hundred miles, 
 and she was not possessed of twenty shil- 
 lings in the world. What to do, or which 
 way to turn, she knew not. One time she 
 thought of disposing of part of her apparel 
 to defray her travelling charges ; but she re- 
 collected she had no superfluity, and her 
 stock was barely sufficient to make a respect- 
 able appearance among strangers ; then she 
 thought of wholly relinquishing her inten- 
 tion. " Perhaps,*' thought she, "I have 
 been too hasty ; perhaps the step I have 
 taken is wrong, and Heaven has so willed, 
 to throw this obstacle in my way : yet surely 
 a beneficent Providence, who knows my 
 destitute situation, and the purity of my in- 
 tentions, can never sanction the designs of 
 malevolence and hypocrisy. Good, I have
 
 56 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 often heard, springs from apparent evil. If 
 so, but I am bewildered, direct me, oh 
 Heavenly Parent ! for the best ! To thy un- 
 erring decrees, I have patiently submitted, 
 and will still submit." Thus having com- 
 mended herself to the Divine protection, the 
 amiable Mary retired to rest. 
 
 Her harassed mind permitted her not 
 to enjoy the sweets of repose, and she rose 
 early, and unrefreshed from the tumbled 
 pillow that sustained her restless head. 
 She recollected she had one disinterested 
 friend left ; to that frieind she determined to 
 repair for counsel and direction, in her 
 present dilemma, and punctually to abide 
 thereby. 
 
 Having taken a slight breakfast, for 
 appetite she had none, she bent her steps 
 towards Mrs. Forester's cottage, and drew 
 her black crape veil over her swollen eyes, 
 red from weeping and the want of rest, to 
 prevent observation and to pass unheeded. 
 She found that worthy lady in her garden, 
 and she hastened to communicate the con- 
 versation of the preceding day. Having 
 relieved her over-charged heart, and wiped 
 away the pearly drops that fell from heir ex- 
 pressive eyes with the corner of her veil,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 67 
 
 she gained more composure, and requested 
 her kind friend to advise her in her critical 
 emergency. 
 
 " I perceive, my dear madam, that I 
 must dechne the present offer of an engage^ 
 ment ; and turn my thoughts from the stage, 
 to some less objectionable, though less 
 profitable, way of earning a subsistence. 
 Direct me, then, my second parent ; choose 
 for me, and I will cheerfully acquiesce in 
 whatever you fix upon. I am truly con^ 
 cerned you have given yourself such fruitless 
 trouble upon my account. ^^ 
 ' " Mydeargirl,^^ replied that afFectionateand 
 worthy lady, " I am by no means surprised at 
 what has occurred; it is really what I expected, 
 that selfish hypocrite has long held that 
 weak woman, your aunt, in leading-strings : 
 his views are evident to all but her ; she has 
 considerable property at her command, and 
 he directs and manages the whole. His sordid 
 heart too, has an eye even upon your littlb 
 portion and your sister^s ; but you must not 
 gratify the trio more, by giving up your 
 engagement ; nothing could delight them so 
 much ; no, no, their malice umst be (lisa 
 appointed, ^'^ 
 
 D ^
 
 58 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " But how, madam, can I accomplish 
 it ?'^ 
 
 " Make yourself easy, my love, upon 
 that head. I should 7tever have written to 
 
 my friend Mr. P in your favour, had 
 
 I not previously provided means for your 
 journey, and foreseen the perplexities you 
 have experienced. I have ten pounds at 
 your command, and I have wTitten to town 
 for a few appropriate stage dresses, such as 
 will suit, and suffice you for the present ; 
 they will be elegant, I assure you. I am 
 aware of the necessary impression a first 
 appearance requires ; and there is more stress 
 laid on dress^ and appearance in just cos- 
 tume, though certainly requisite, than such 
 things intrinsically deserve, yet they must 
 be attended to. The profession is now* 
 become an elaborate science, and a rigid at- 
 tention to the character you sustain must 
 be observed in dress, as well as manner. 
 I will not have mv favourite fail in her first 
 attempt ; your robes and your ornaments 
 shall be us striking and as splendid, as, I 
 know, your talents are. You shall rivet the 
 attention of your audience, and silence 
 competition. The lady I have apphed to, is
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^9 
 
 a person of consummate taste; she will select 
 what is proper, and I expect full half a 
 dozen superb changes, with suitable plumes 
 and jewellery, by to-morrow evening's coach/^ 
 
 " Oh, madam!" cried Mary, in a tran- 
 sport of gratitude, " what shall I say ? How 
 can I ever repay such considerate goodness ?'* 
 
 " By your silence and acceptance. Your 
 success will amply repay me. I have set my 
 heart upon your success, and cauLot but 
 lend my aid towards the accomplishment." 
 
 As they returned to the house, Mrs. 
 Mildmay dropped in, to pay her morning 
 respects to Mrs. Forester. She was one of 
 the many residents, whom the latter lady 
 had selected as an eligible friend and com- 
 panion ; her manners were easy and unas- 
 suming, and her native goodness of heart 
 rendered her words and actions correspon- 
 dent. Mrs. Forester had a numerous ac- 
 quaintance, but none she preferred to Mrs. 
 Mildmay. 
 
 " So, our young friend, I find, is going to 
 leave us ; and from a comparatively recluse 
 life, to launch forth into the wide ocean of 
 pubhc favour, where different tempers and 
 opinions, like variable winds, must assail 
 her on all sides ; that young and inexperi-
 
 60 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 enced as she is, she will, I fear, be unable 
 to foresee the hidden dangers, and steer her 
 little bark clear and uninjured, without an 
 able and experienced friend and pilot to 
 direct her. You, I know, my dear ma- 
 dam/^ continued Mrs. Mildmay, " are her 
 friend, and an able and excellent adviser, I 
 am convinced ; but you cannot be with her, 
 and that is a melancholy reflection.^^ 
 
 " A girl of Miss Irwin's strong sense, 
 excellent education, Mrs. Forester, and 
 above all, her sound and virtuous principles, 
 need not always the scrutinizing eyes of an 
 inspector. Counsel, however salutary, when 
 contiraially offered, grows irksome, and age 
 is in general too rigid, and apt to check the 
 most innocent isallies of youthful vivacity. 
 A girl, if so inclined, may evade the vigi- • 
 lance of the most constant and watchful eye. 
 I entertain no fear, in leaving Miss Irwin 
 to her own discretion ; in every important 
 concern I know she will consult me."' 
 
 " I am happy to hear this,^^ said Mrs. 
 Mildmay. 
 
 " I should be the most ungrateful girl in- 
 nature," said Mary, " if I forgot for a 
 moment, the uncommon marks of disin- 
 terested attention I hav€ received from Mrs.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 6l 
 
 Forester, or neglected to inform her of my 
 situation, or even concealed the minutest 
 transaction of my hfe ; it is the hope of 
 being honoured with her frequent corres- 
 pondence that alone cheers me in separating 
 from her, and the place of my nativity, 
 though now, alas ! I have no home ; or, if 
 I had, all that made it dear is gone for 
 ever." 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Irvvin,*^ said Mrs. Mild- 
 may, '' you have no reason to lament leav- 
 ing your sister, or your aunt. Two less feel- 
 ing hearts, I believe, this neighbourhood, 
 populous as it is, does not contain. I was 
 present Yor an hour or so at the sale, and 
 such a scene of sordid apathy I have sel- 
 dom witnessed." 
 
 " Explain," said Mary. 
 
 " When your mother's miniature was 
 handed round, the auctioneer turned par- 
 ticularly to your aunt, and asked her opi- 
 nion, if it was not a strong likeness, adding, 
 " I dare say, madam, you may have it at 
 your own price ; none here, I should think, 
 will bid against you." All eyes were now 
 fixed on her, she took it carelessly in her 
 hand, and said, " it might have been like 
 her sister Irwin, but it was so long since
 
 62 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 they had met, it could be no resemblance 
 now, and she wanted no picture to remind 
 her/' She, however, asked how much the 
 gold it was mounted in was worth. The 
 auctioneer begged her pardon for the liberty 
 he had taken, and looked at Hester, in 
 hopes she would speak, but she handed it 
 back in silence : he then put it up at one 
 guinea, and it was knocked down to me for 
 three, and here it is ; and now, my dear 
 Miss Mary, you will much oblige me to 
 accept it ; it was for i/ou I made the 
 purchase." 
 
 " How good, how generous and con- 
 siderate V returned the grateful girl, as 
 she kissed the hkeness of her mother, and 
 wiped the drop of filial piety that fell upon 
 the glass. 
 
 " I know you have your father's portrait; 
 your sister explained the altercation she had 
 with you, which she ridiculed, but which 
 has redounded so much in your favour. 
 You need now, my dear girl,'' cried the 
 good lady with a smile, " wherever you go 
 never be alone ; your mother's miniature at 
 your breast, and your father's portrait 
 hung in your room, will always be sok 
 ciety for vou, and receive the tender scenes
 
 tHE PRESENT DAY. 63 
 
 of former happiness. The possession of the 
 one would be incomplete without the other. 
 Now, the domestic circle is filled.^' 
 
 " You have forestalled my intention," 
 said Mrs. Forester, " for I did not suppose 
 such articles would be among the first to 
 be put up : indeed, I thought Hester would 
 have secured her mother's likeness to herself/' 
 
 " Oh ! 720,'* sighed Mary ; " it is evi- 
 dent, she would have sold father, mother, 
 and the world for money, as I greatly fear, 
 she will, one day, herself.'^ 
 
 " To what port are you bound, my dear? 
 If I may use the language of my brother, 
 old Captain Mildmay.'' 
 
 " To madam,'* answered Mary. 
 
 " Indeed, I am glad to hear it ; you will 
 visit ' ■ in your circuit : my brother 
 
 resides there upon his half-pay. You shall 
 take a line from me to him, it will be no 
 harm to have an old rough tar for your 
 friend, among strangers." 
 
 " You are truly kind," returned Mary, 
 with a courtesy. 
 
 '* Is your brother still unmarried :" asked 
 Mrs. Forester. 
 
 " Mercy !" exclaimed her friend, '' What 
 should an old bachelor, turned of fifty, of
 
 64 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 such an eccentric turn, do with matrimony ? 
 Domestic quiet he has no notion of; a calm 
 is his aversion : he loves a breeze^ as he 
 says, and is never more composed and 
 happy, than in a storm : he is always cruizing 
 aboutv" 
 
 " Then I would by all means advise him 
 to marry," cried Mrs. Forester. 
 
 " Go, you are severe^'' said Mrs. Mild- 
 may, smiling. 
 
 *' By no means," answered the other : 
 " he could not fail to be then in his element. 
 The breezes which would ensue, would ex- 
 hilarate his spirits, and the squalling of 
 children be music in his ear ; he need not 
 then gad about to look for a storm /" 
 
 " How you talk: notwithstanding his 
 whimsical humour, he is a worthy man, and 
 there is not a better heart breathing." Mrs. 
 Mildmay now wished her friend a good 
 morning, and promised to have the letter 
 for Mary ready against her departure. 
 
 Mrs. Forester kept Mary to dinner, say- 
 ing, '* the house now, for I cannot call it 
 a home, must be truly uncomfortable to you ; 
 for the few days you remain here, you must 
 spend them with me ; in the evening, we 
 will take a walk, and call on Mr. Percy."
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 6o 
 
 Nothing could be more agreeable to Mary, 
 and after an early dinner, they both set out 
 on a visit to that worthy clergyman. 
 
 The Parsonage was about a mile distant 
 from Mrs. Forester's : it was a neat building 
 in. the cottage style, simple to appearance, 
 yet abounding with internal elegance and 
 comfort. The honey-suckle and woodbine 
 crept over its front, while the thick foliage of 
 the horse-chesnut screened the sun-beams 
 from the parlour windows, and gave a re« 
 freshing coolness to the intense heat of sum- 
 mer : in the lawn before the door, the e.wes 
 and lambs cropped the golden butter-cup and 
 springing daisy, while the parson *s horvSe 
 frisked over the verdant carpet, happy in 
 airy liberty. The village church was situ- 
 ated on a rocky acclivity, half a mile from 
 hence, down the side of which steep rushed 
 a cascade, which fell into the pebbled vale, 
 and formed a frothy bason, from whence a 
 stream meandered gently along the swelling 
 meadows, that rose from its banks, which 
 were crowned with an extensive shady wood 
 that added a pleasing variety to the level 
 scenery around ; awooden bridge, of Chinese 
 construction, was flung across the stream, 
 and made an easy communication between
 
 66 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 the church and parsonage, the path through 
 the fields was kept in neat repair. Mr. 
 Percy, seeing them approach, left his dwell- 
 ing to welcome them. 
 
 *' What a benevolent aspect !" exclaimed 
 Mary, as he drew near. ** How beautifully 
 do those silver locks adorn, and waive over 
 his temples, as the playful breeze wantons 
 through them ! His cheek too, at once the 
 seat of rosy health and reverence ! Oh 1 had 
 he bee^i the chosen preceptor of my aunt, 
 how different had she proved ; how different 
 my situation !'^ 
 
 Mr. Percy had now reached them ; he 
 thanked them in the warmest manner for 
 their friendly call, and said, now the approach 
 of separation was so near at hand, he could 
 be ill satisfied with a short complimentary 
 visit from his young friend. She must stay 
 and spend the evening with him, as he 
 wished to talk to, and advise her. 
 
 Mary answered she came with that intent. 
 She coveted his friendly and fatherly coun- 
 sel ; that she would at all times be happy 
 to receive it with filial respect and grati- 
 tude. 
 
 Mr. Percy took her affectionately by the 
 hand, which he warmly pressed. " I loved
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 67 
 
 your father, my dear child, sincerely ; he 
 was my earliest friend and companion of my 
 youth, and I dearly love the offspring that 
 so closely resembles him :^^ and the full drop 
 of sensibility ghstened in the good man's 
 eyes. 
 
 Poor Mary felt oppressed by the melan- 
 choly, yet tender urbanity his countenance 
 expressed, though she ventured to hide it by 
 a smile : he now, faithful to his promise, put 
 a letter into her hand, addressed to his col- 
 lege friend at ■ " I was this mo- 
 ment,^' said he, " going to dispatch my ser- 
 vant with it, with compliments, and a request 
 to favour me with your company to tea : he 
 was to call on our friend here, but your vo- 
 luntary and welcome presence has antici- 
 pated my wish." 
 
 " My dear Sir,'^ said Mrs. Forester, 
 " assist me to revive our young friend's 
 drooping spirits ; I want her to shake off 
 this melancholy. She has little occasion 
 now to regret her separation from her remain- 
 ing relatives.^^ 
 
 "It is not that, believe me, my dear 
 madam,'' cried our Heroine, " that oppresses 
 me at present : but how can I assume the 
 semblance of an easy mind, when a day or
 
 68 . THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 two must take me far distant from all 1 now 
 esteem, respect, and reverence;" and she 
 pressed the hands of her benefactress and 
 the worthy parson . 
 
 " These thoughts," returned Mn Percy, 
 *' must not be indulged ; they will enervate, 
 and unfit you for the active scenes you are 
 about to encounter : exert your fortitude, my 
 dear girl ; we can never be said to be far re- 
 moved from each other, when we can converse 
 by letter every week, if necessary. Your 
 friends arewell, I neednot add how happy they 
 will be to hear of your welfare : whilie there 
 is pen, ink, and paper in the world, we can 
 convey ourselves into each other's presence, 
 and communicate our most secret thoughts 
 without reserve. I always fancy I see my , 
 friend opposite to me when I am reading 
 his letter ; I see the changes of his counte- 
 nance and the expression of his eye, as I 
 peruse his mind ; and I literalii/ tddk to him. 
 So I shall with you ; I shall see you sitting 
 by me, and whispering me some news of 
 yourself, all your little doubts and perplexi- 
 ties ; and asking me with a roguish and ir- 
 resistible smile, my opinion; and I, in return, 
 shall transport myself, by sleight of hand^ 
 sans ceremonies into your bed'chmnber.of a
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^ 69 
 
 morning, where I ?im sure I shall be wel- 
 come, and yoii will not blush to receive mfe. 
 1 assure you I shall be quite jealous if Mrs. 
 Forester engrosses your correspondence/* 
 
 " You need not fear," returned Marv 
 smiling. " I shall steal in upon your privacy, 
 and catch you, before you are up of a morn- 
 ing, perhaps." 
 
 " If you do, you little witch," cried Mr. 
 Percy, " I shall take some liberties, and 
 devour your hand with kisses.'^ 
 
 As they approached the hall, they were met 
 bv several children carrvinsf loaves, who 
 made their obeisance to Mr. Percy, as they 
 passed him. Mary was particularly struck 
 with the beauty of one chubby boy, appa- 
 rently about five years old, who toddled after 
 another: his flaxen hair curled round his 
 rosy laughing countenance ; his clear skin 
 fresh washed, appeared conspicuously through 
 his tattered stuff frock ; his fat arms were 
 firmly clasped round a loaf, which looked 
 nearly as big as himself, but the incumbrance 
 seemed to dehght, more than oppress him 
 \)y its weight: he stopped by the side of 
 Mr. Percy, who, patting him on the head^ 
 enquired how his mother was. 
 
 The elder, who was a fine boy, about
 
 70 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 seven, with a low scrape answered, *' Daddy, 
 mammy, and sister be all brave and hearty, 
 thank your reverence." 
 
 " And baby too,^' lisped his little 
 brother, casting his eyes up to Mr. Percy, 
 and placing his ruby lips for a kiss, which 
 was given with pleasure. 
 
 " Why do you let your httle brother 
 csLvry that loaf," said Mrs. Forester ; " it is 
 too heavy for him to lug along ?" 
 
 " He cries for it so," said the boy, *' he 
 won't let me take it ; he calls it Billy s and 
 Baby's bread, for he gives the babe some 
 when mammy cuts him off his supper ; and 
 that does so please him." 
 
 *' How many brothers and sisters have 
 you ?" asked Mrs. Forester. 
 
 ** Five^ so please you, ma'am, besides 
 myself and Billy here. We shall all have 
 our suppers when we go home, off these 
 loaves," cried the boy, looking with un- 
 feigned joy at the bread he carried, *' and 
 then we say our prayers, and then we go 
 
 to bed." 
 
 " Yes, goodbye; goodbye:" lisped little 
 
 Billy. 
 
 *' Good boys, mind your book, and say 
 your prayers," said Mr. Percy, walking on.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 71 
 
 " Oh, yes, thank your reverence," an- 
 swered the boy, and he called his little bro- 
 ther as he moved off. 
 
 " Your taa** lisped little Bill, kissing his 
 hand and scraping his little foot. " Taa^ 
 taa /'^ and then he toddled away, following 
 his brother. 
 
 " Surely, Sir," cried Mary, " yout sleep 
 must be the sweetest in the world." 
 
 " Why so ; young lady ?" 
 
 " Because these innocent children invoke 
 a blessing on your charitable hand and heart, 
 every evening of their lives." 
 
 The wc ;^hy man smiled at the ardour of 
 her expressions, and replied: *' From the 
 land I hold, I can well spare one field of 
 corn, which produces the bread you saw the 
 children carry away: the charity is triflino-, 
 but of use to a large family. While I cater 
 for their suppers, I instruct them in useful 
 and religious knowledge ; the gratification ex- 
 ceeds the expence. Ami not then a selfish 
 sensualist, for my scholars, in return, assist to 
 get in my harvest, weed my garden, clear my 
 grounds, make my hay, and perform many 
 little offices about my farm, that amply repay 
 my poor attention to their mental and bodily 
 welfare."
 
 7f THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " It proves," said Mrs. Forester, " how 
 much good may be done with a little, which 
 is ever sufficient when our desires are mo- 
 derate." 
 
 Mr. Percy then led them through his 
 library, the glass doors of w^hich w^ere thrown 
 open and discovered a scene of happiness 
 truly pleasing; they then passed through the 
 shrubbery, and beheld in the adjoining field 
 a hay-stack finished that evening ; near it, 
 beneath the foliage of a sheltering tree, sat a 
 number of labourers of both sexes ; before 
 them was spread a homespun table-cloth, 
 whereon smoaked boiled bacon, beans, and 
 potatoes, with a large brown loaf, and a 
 pitcher of ale. At a small distance were 
 the younger rustics dancing to the flute of a 
 youth, who w^as reclining on a sloping bank, 
 and administering his simple music to his 
 mirthful companions. The reward he 
 claimed, a kiss from vSusan and a horn of 
 ale ! 
 
 " What a happy set of beings!'' ex- 
 claimed Mary, as she viewed the clumsy 
 windings of the dancers. . 
 
 " Yes," returned Mr. Percy, "they envy 
 not the more refined and polished circle of 
 a brilliant assembly; they pass not the night
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 73 
 
 in revelry, they are up to their work at the 
 hour the votaries of fashion betake them- 
 selves to restless slumber. Many censure 
 me for allowing them this innocent recrea- 
 tion, among the foremost, the pious Mr, 
 Saintbury, to whose good or ill report I am 
 equally indifferent : but I think since sorrow 
 is the lot of man, he should endeavour to 
 lighten, as much as possible, the load he is 
 doomed to bear ; the hilarity of the honest 
 heart must be acceptable to the Creator : the 
 smile of cheerful content and resignation 
 that beams on the Christian's face, is the sure 
 index of the heart within. But let us mix 
 awhile with these happy rustics, and by 
 casting off our cares, partake of their feli- 
 city." 
 
 Approaching the youthful musician, he 
 bade him go and refresh himself, and taking 
 his flute, reclined with the ladies on the bank, 
 and declared his intention of stealinor the 
 reward : the poor lad bowed and obeyed, but 
 casta look at his Susan, whose pouting lips 
 seemed to say, the pleasure of the dance was 
 fled, since he was not to be rewarded. 
 
 Mr. Percy observed her, and good hu- 
 mouredly whispered, *' Do not fear, prett}'^ 
 Susan. I honour constant affection too muclr 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 to give it a moment's pain ; your lover is 
 worthy, and 1 will not rob him/* 
 
 The blushes of Susan at these words, and 
 the bright sparkle of her eyes, showed 
 plainly that the spirit of coquetry was a stran- 
 ger to her pure bosom : she knew her lover 
 to be deserving, and had not art to conceal 
 the joy that knowledge gave her. 
 
 Their worthy cheerful pastor favoured the 
 dancers with a merry tune, till the servant 
 approached, and announced that tea was 
 ready. 
 
 Mr. Percy and the ladies rose and return- 
 ed to the parlour : after a refreshing cup of 
 excellent beverage, he brought them to his 
 library, and taking down a beautiful edition 
 of Ala lone s Shakespeare presented them to 
 Mary, which she most gracefully and grate- 
 fully accepted. 
 
 When the bell rang eight, the dance 
 ended. The peasants then repaired to their 
 good pastor's hall, where he met them, and 
 read prayers in a meek, yet firm voice ; then 
 recommending them to the Divine protec- 
 tion, bestowed his bened ction on their 
 heads, and saw them depart in cheerful piety 
 to their humble homes. 
 
 Mrs. Forester now hinted to Mary that it
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 7o 
 
 was time to return ; so leaving Mr. Percy in 
 the most affectionate manner, they bent their 
 steps homewards. Mary having promised 
 to spend the next day with her friend, 
 parted from her at her door, and proceeded 
 to her desolate mansion. 
 
 She found nobody at home, but the old 
 nurse, who informed her her sister was at 
 the house of her aunt Gordon. " Indeed, 
 my dear Miss, I thought you were there too, 
 and that I should never see you more, for 
 you were in a great hurry to send for your 
 trunks, which I was loth to deliver to Mr. 
 Saintbury's porter ; but Miss Hester, who 
 came with the man, ordered me, and so old 
 Robert at the lodge helped to carry them.*' 
 
 ** Where ?" cried Mary in violent agita* 
 tion. 
 
 " I don't know, my dear Miss," said the 
 nurse, " but I suppose to your aunt's : it 
 was all Miss Hester's doing." 
 
 Poor Mary hurried up stairs as well as 
 she was able : too true it was, every article 
 belonging to her had vanished ! She was 
 struck motionless with alarm and indigna- 
 tion. She turned sick, and had she not 
 applied to the water-bottle for relief, and 
 
 B 3
 
 /O THE ACTIIESS OF 
 
 swallowed a large draught, she must have 
 swooned. 
 
 '^ Cruel Hester!" she exclaimed as soon 
 as she recovered the power of speech, " this 
 is your work to distress and ruin me, or 
 rather the advice of my bitter enemy, the 
 malicious Solomon Saintbury : how shall I 
 proceed ? How, -or where shall I seek re- 
 dress? Direct me, Heaven!" ^ 
 
 After a short pause, sh^ ran down stairis. 
 and hastened back to Mr-s. Forester, to con- 
 sult her in this unforeseen and critical pre- 
 dicament. 
 
 That good lady lost all patience at the 
 mean, pitiful, and malevolent plot, planned 
 against the poor girl. " This is indeed most, 
 cruelly disti'essing at such a time," she 
 cried, " I am really at a loss to advise. 
 I have no power over your aunt, and my 
 interference would render her most obsti- 
 nate ; I will make one effort, and if that 
 feil, I know not what course we shall pur- 
 sue. Come with me, there is no time to be 
 
 lost." 
 
 Mrs. Forester took her immediately to 
 the house of Nathan Barclay, the Quaker, 
 she enquired !i<fhe WAS at home and at leisure
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 77 
 
 being answered in the affirmative, she re- 
 quested to see him, upon urgent business ; 
 Ihey were shewn into a neat parlour. 
 
 Presently^ the Quaker made his appear- 
 ance: he was a tall, dark man, of a sallow 
 visage, heavy eye-brows, and an austere 
 look, and a rigid formality appeared 
 throughout his whole deportment. Mrs. 
 Forester's penetration augured no success 
 from his appearance;, but, driven to extre- 
 mity, she was resolved to make the attempt. 
 ' Having politely apologized for the intru- 
 sion at so late an hour, she in the most 
 earnest manner explained the distressing 
 situation of her young friend, who was, in 
 a day or two, going a long journey to a 
 distant and eligible situation, but was pre- 
 vented by the cruelty of her aunt Gordon's 
 seizure of all her clothes and necessaries, 
 because she refused an offer from Mr. Solo- 
 mon Saintbury, to reside in his house, and 
 do perhaps his household drudgery. 
 
 " Umph!" cried the Quaker, " verily 
 this is not right. Thy aunt, young maiden, 
 it seems, is under the guidance, the spi- 
 ritual direction of the man, miscalled 
 Solomon Saintbury. Truly, I like him not,, 
 neither is he a friend of thine, and thou art
 
 7S THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 to be commended, not to accept a shelter 
 under his roof: he and I are not agreed. 
 We have had a difference : he is an obdurate 
 creditor. It is an unwise and unchristian 
 act, to steel the heart, and sow the seeds of 
 discord between relatives." 
 
 " Her excuse, the only one she can 
 plead," continued Mrs. Forester, " is, that 
 the children's apparel, as well as every thing 
 else, is the property of the creditors.'^ 
 
 " So far she is right,'^ returned the Qua. 
 ker ; " but she had no right to interfere, nor 
 take the law into her own hands, and that, 
 peradventure, for the exclusive use of her 
 friend Solomon. It was never the intention 
 of the creditors, to proceed with severity, 
 much less, to strip the orphans of their 
 raiment, and turn them naked on the world : 
 such indeed seemed that Solomon's design 
 at our last meeting, but he was overruled ; 
 the maiden^s property must be restored.^' 
 
 " But how, good Sir ?^* asked Mrs. Forester. 
 
 " I will give thee a line to our attorney, 
 who is employed on this business. He will, 
 in my name, as principal creditor, demand 
 it in due form, of the relative of thy young 
 friend ; but, first I would advise thee, 
 damsel, to wait upon thy aunt, make thy
 
 THE PRESENT DAY» 79 
 
 request ; if she refuse, the law shall wrest 
 it from her ; then leave the rest to me." 
 
 So saying, he went to his desk, and 
 penned the letter to the attorney, which he 
 sealed, and handed to Mrs. Forester, and 
 then left them, with, " Farewell ; I wish 
 thee success.'^ 
 
 " Well," cried Mrs. Forester, as they 
 left the Quaker's, " V\\ never trust to 
 Lavater again ; there is really no judging by 
 appearance. You see, my dear, a merciful 
 Providence will not forsake those who 
 trust in him. Oh ! how I long to be re- 
 venged on that malicious hypocrite, Heaven 
 forgive me! but I should delight in tor- 
 menting him. Now good night, go home, 
 and rest if you can, and in the morning, 
 wait on your aunt, and then call on me, 
 and we'll put the letter in force. Heaven 
 will befriend you, my love, and will not 
 suffer your enemies to triumph.'^ 
 
 When Mary reached home, her sister 
 was returned : little passed between them ; 
 but Mary could perceive a secret satisfaction 
 in Hester's looks, and it was evident that 
 she gloried in her distress. 
 
 " By whose orders were my trunks 
 removed ?'^ asked Mary.
 
 80 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " How should I know?" said Hester, 
 feigning ignorance. 
 
 " You do know/' returned Maiy, " for 
 you were present, when they were taken 
 away/^ 
 
 " They are safe enough, I warrant/' 
 replied the sister. 
 
 " Not so safe, as in possession of the 
 right owner/* said Mary ; " but my aunt 
 has no right to detain them.^' 
 
 '* You will find at least you have no 
 right to them. My clothes/' said Hester, 
 " as well as yours^ are liable to be seized by 
 the creditors, and my aunt has taken both 
 under her care for the present." 
 
 " But I am going a distant journey, 
 and I cannot possibly make a decent ap* 
 pearance without my necessaries.'*^ 
 
 " I cannot help that," said the unfeel- 
 ing Hester. 
 
 " I cannot set off as I am. Past all 
 bearing is this usage ; you know I cannot, 
 Hester." 
 
 " I neither know nor care. If you can- 
 not, so much the better. Our aunt, depend 
 upon it, won't resign them ; and your fine 
 ladyship may set off as you are, or how 
 you can/' And they separated.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 31 ARY passed a night of anxiety : she 
 dreaded another interview with her aunt, 
 as repugnant to her feehngs ; she had httle 
 hopes of succeeding by intreaty, she there- 
 fore resolved in her own mind to make it as 
 concise and short as possible. Poor girl ! She 
 little suspected the additional and aggravating 
 trial of her patience she had yet to endure. 
 In the morning she breakfasted alone ; 
 Hester had gone out early, but did not 
 leave word w^here ; in short, the two sisters 
 were now perfectly estranged from each 
 other. As she knew her aunt seldom 
 stirred from home till the middle of the 
 day, she judged it would be a good oppor- 
 tunity to speak with her alone, and to try 
 if all natural feeling and affection were 
 really banished from her heart, or whether 
 her conduct sprung from the evil counsels 
 of her adviser ; perhaps, thought she, " when 
 he is not present, she may be assailable by 
 a strong appeal. I would rather it should 
 
 E 5
 
 32 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 be so, than use the force of law. Thank 
 the good Quaker, there is that resource.^^ 
 
 When she arrived at her aunt^s, she found 
 that Hester had called on her about an 
 hour before, and they had both gone to 
 the preacher's, as he held a class that day. 
 This was a severe mortification, as all her 
 hopes of succeeding by fair means seemed 
 utterly precluded now ; for she could now 
 speak to her only in the presence of Mr. 
 Saintbury's whole family, whom she had 
 seldom seen, and had no wish to en- 
 counter. 
 
 But being determined to know the worst, 
 and having no time to lose, she summoned 
 up resolution, and went immediately to the 
 shop of the spiritual dealer in articles for 
 the temporal use of his customers. 
 
 On the entrance of our Heroine, she was 
 greeted with a low bow, and a simper from 
 Mr. David Sugar, the nephew of the 
 preacher's wife, who was just out of his 
 time, and now acted as shopman to the 
 concern. " What^s your will. Miss?" 
 said David. 
 
 *' 1 wish to speak with my aunt Gordon, 
 alone^ if possible, Mr. David." 
 
 '* Indeed, Miss," replied David with a
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 83 
 
 grin, " I doesn't think as how you can; 
 she and Miss Hetty are now in the great 
 room, with my aunt and uncle, and there 
 be a good many volk come too, as this is 
 class day, and nuncle is going for to give 
 prayers, and a hexortation'* 
 
 " Then, if you please,*' said Mary, " Til 
 remain here, till your company is gone." 
 
 ** You had better walk in, and take a 
 mouthful of prayers, and listen to nuncle's 
 fine discourse : he is a fine preacher, isn't 
 he, Miss ? 
 
 " You'll excuse me," Mary replied ; 
 " but I am not inclined at present." 
 
 David Sugar now placed a stool for her 
 to be seated, and with pompous ceremony 
 presented her a paper of almonds and 
 raisins, saying with a significant expression, 
 " This is my present. Miss. Nuncle need 
 never know as I was so generous.^' 
 
 Mary politely declined the elegant 
 present, to the no small surprise and dis- 
 comfiture of David. She sat in silent me- 
 ditation, from which she was roused, by 
 the voice of the preacher, who half opening 
 the parlour door, said, in a very solemn 
 tone, " David, have you watered the 
 tobacco ? Have you mixed the teas ?
 
 84 THE ACTRESS OE 
 
 have you sanded the sugar, as I ordered 
 
 you ?*' 
 
 " Yes," said David. 
 
 *' Then come in to prayers^'* and Mr. 
 Saintbury closed the door. His hypocritical 
 sanctity, however, remained in its most 
 disgusting colours on Mary's mind, vt^ho 
 could not help inwardly exclaiming, 
 ^' what a deliberate system of fraud and 
 impiety !*' 
 
 David locked up the till carefully, shut 
 
 the shop door, and with a graceless attempt 
 
 at civility, said, " I bees sorry. Miss, I can't 
 
 keep you company any longer, for I doesn't 
 
 dare to offend aunty, for she mayn't live 
 
 long, and I knows she has got a private 
 
 purse, which will go to somebody if I 
 
 takes care, and minds my hits ; so you 
 
 sees, Miss, I knows what I bees after." 
 
 With this wise remark, and a wiser wink 
 
 of cunning, Mr. David left the shop, and 
 
 Mary sat in comparative darkness, the 
 
 light from the windows being deadened by 
 
 the drapery that decorated them, and the 
 
 jars and sugar loaves placed therein; but, 
 
 gloomy as it was, she preferred it to the 
 
 painful task of listening to the puffed up 
 
 preacher in the midst of his followers,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY* 85 
 
 whose sighs and groans echoed and re- 
 sponded at every pause he made, and 
 reached her unwiUing ears. 
 
 But how was her refined taste tortured, 
 at the hideous discord of the vociferous 
 devotees, when the hymn was raised ; she 
 was compelled to close her ears in self- 
 defence, till it was concluded ; at length 
 the welcome sound of pattens announced 
 the departure of the -enthusiastic set. In 
 about five minutes after, the maid servant, 
 whose serious face gave evidence she had 
 been a partaker of the godly doctrine* 
 entered, and informed her, that her mis- 
 iress^ hearing she had come, wanted to 
 speak with her on something of import- 
 ance. 
 
 What this message from Mrs. Saintbury 
 could mean, Mary was at a loss to con- 
 jecture ; but she rose and obeyed the 
 summons. 
 
 The old woman was seated at a writing 
 desk, with her spectacles on, and porinp* 
 over a small list-book ; the preacher at a 
 table, covered with silver and copper, which 
 he was counting up in small paicels. 
 David sat opposite to Mrs. Gordon, but 
 rose on Mary's entrance, and begged "her
 
 86 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 to take a seat next him ; she complied with 
 his request, but did not notice the sheepish 
 grimace with which he conferred the com- 
 pHment. Hester was by the preacher's side, 
 turning over the leaves of a magazine, 
 which contained the likeness of that gospel 
 minister, 
 
 " Mrs. Allen has not paid," said Mrs. 
 Saintbury, with a severe tone ; then screw- 
 ing his coarse and wrinkled visage into a 
 forced smile, informed Marv, that she 
 would be ready to speak to her, as soon as 
 the present business was over. 
 
 " Not paid r echoed Saintbury with 
 a frown, " then she shall no longer belong to 
 the class. I have no notion of her coming 
 week after week and not paying.'* 
 
 " She is very poor," said the wife, 
 " and when I mentioned your trouble, she 
 said she was obhgated to lay out the money 
 she had saved to pay for your book, and 
 for the class, to buy bread for her children. 
 She owes now fiv^e weeks." 
 
 " Two shillings a week is not much," 
 grumbled the preacher; " and what's her 
 family to us ?" 
 
 " So I said," returned his wife, " and I 
 has no notion of her coming here, and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 87 
 
 dirtying our passage with her thick shoes, 
 and you obhged to strain your precious 
 lungs to make an oppression upon one, 
 who is as deaf as a post behke." 
 
 ** Nor I," replied her husband, " waste 
 my breath to no purpose ; that woman 
 costs me an ounce of refined hquorice a 
 week. If fthe can't pay to the class, she 
 can't pay to the shop ; so, David, make out 
 the bill for her, and go to her, and say, I 
 have some money to make up, and can't do 
 without it. If she can't discharge it, we are 
 rid of her and her custom : better lose a 
 little, than let her dip more deeply in debt/* 
 
 " Ah! my dear Mr. Saintbury !" ex- 
 claimed his old wife. " You are too good for 
 this sinful world : but you will follow your 
 generous ways till you ruin yourself and 
 
 me." 
 
 " I hate avarice ^^' exclaimed Mr. Saint- 
 bur}'^ aloud, *' detest all mercenary views. 
 I set my affections on things above and not 
 
 on . David, count that silver and 
 
 those halfpence over again ; you have mis- 
 ^ told it, or you have secreted a six-pence.'* 
 
 " Not I, nuncle," cried David, " upon 
 my honour and credit ; aunty there, gives 
 me pocket-money."
 
 88 THJK ACTRESS OP 
 
 '' Hey-day!" exclaimed the preacher, 
 ^' Indeed ! how comes this, madam ?'* 
 
 '' Why, Nephy Davy, you knows, love,'^ 
 answered Mrs. Saintbiiry, " is now of age, 
 and the poor boy must not be kept vidout a 
 fardin. I allows him a shilling a week ; 
 he's a nice young man, and 'tis time he 
 should think of settling in the world ; many 
 girls would be glad to catch him. What 
 think yoii^ child ?" addressing herself to 
 Mary. 
 
 " Madam !" cried Mary, *' Do you speak 
 to me /" 
 
 " Why not ?" returned the old woman, 
 facing round : " I have spoken afore your 
 betters ; marry come up, indeed, but you be 
 shy, mayhap, as guessing why I wanted to 
 speak with you : but the truth may as veil 
 come out, 'tis all along of my Nephy Davy, 
 he has taken a mortal fancy to you. I 
 wanted him to pay his distresses to your 
 sister Hetty here, but he vont ; and she 
 says she can't think of robbing you of such 
 a good chance." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Mary, *' she is truly 
 obhging." 
 
 " I know'd you would think so ; for such 
 offers don't come every day : so, Davy, go
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 89 
 
 up to her, boy, and put your best leg fore- 
 most, and tell her a bit of your mind/' 
 
 " Heaven deliver me 1" cried Mary to 
 herself, " from this additional and insuffer- 
 able persecution : how shall I escape it ?** 
 
 Now David's shape from his hips down- 
 wards, was most untoward. He stood upon 
 an arch, and a particular curvature adorned 
 his shins. He, however, uoconscious of 
 his defects, therw his apron aside, and cast 
 an admiring glance towards his legs, then 
 stretched forth one, and then the other, and 
 at last cried : " Upon my honour. Aunty, I 
 can't tell which is best ; but both is best, they 
 say, and here goes :" with that, he with a 
 stupid simper and grimace, approached 
 Mary, who^ starting from her chair, recoiled 
 to a distance. 
 
 " Law ! Aunty," cried David, " Miss 
 he's so shy, she voii't let me touch her." 
 
 " I'm sure," said Hester, who was silent 
 hitherto. " You ought to be grateful, sis- 
 ter, for this offer, and take him, while he is 
 in the mind ; he may not have you, when 
 you have lost your character /" 
 
 " My character/" exclaimed the asto- 
 nished Mary.
 
 90 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " Yes, Miss/' cried David, ** for though 
 I he's taken with your beauty, I ban*t quite 
 so foolish as to disgrace myself to marry with 
 a hactress," 
 
 " Sister,'' cried Mary, indignation flush- 
 ing in her eyes, " I did not suppose you 
 could join to insult me ; or that you, 
 madam, would sanction the liberty this 
 stupid ass is allowed to offer :*' addressing 
 her aunt. 
 
 " Hass^ hass/** muttered David, strut- 
 tingaboutin violent resentment. **I shouldn't 
 ave thought of that, to be called hass by a 
 hactress /" 
 
 " You are the most ungratefuUest young 
 voman I ever see'd," exclaimed Mrs. Saint- 
 bury in a rage. " Better nor you vou'd be 
 proud to ave my nephy any day, though 
 he's but a tradesman, as was his father ; and 
 your's a fine gentleman : 'tis not what we 
 vas, but what we is ; I have no notion of 
 such poverty-struck pride." 
 
 *' My dear," whispered the preacher, 
 " pray be pacified ; she is not worth talk- 
 ing to : I am afraid you will bring on your 
 old complaint, the spasms : let me pour you 
 out a glass of your stomachic carminative
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 91 
 
 elixir?" This was an infusion of saffron, 
 bitter orange-peel and carro way-seed, upon 
 the best cogniac. 
 
 " That's what I wants, so pour it in a 
 tea-cup, Mr. Saintbury ; you knows what 
 cures me/' The truly affectionate husband 
 obeyed. 
 
 The old woman's spirits being recruited, 
 and her good humour somewhat restored by 
 this potent decoction, she ag^in addressed 
 herself to Mary. *' I should'nt ave supposed 
 a girl in your sitivation could be so silly- 
 like, as to turn up your saucy nose at my 
 nephy ; so if he takes my advice, he vill treat 
 you as you deserve, and not have you, 
 though you vas to go down on your knees 
 for him. Your sister Hetty is far more 
 better, and more notabler, and is jollier and 
 comelier nor you, with your tall slim figures, 
 and quality-bred airs : but he knows best, 
 let him choose for himself, I says." 
 
 Hester by no means relished Mrs. Saint- 
 bury's compliments ; for though she proba- 
 bly would not have refused Mr. David's 
 offer, if he had not preferred her sister : now 
 to accept him was impossible, her pride 
 was hurt, and her indignation roused, and 
 she replied : " Mr. David cannot fail with
 
 92 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 his person to attract some more deserving 
 girl than either my sister or me : for my 
 part, I could never presume to aspire to 
 such an honour/' 
 
 *' Nay/' cried David, " I like you veil 
 enough, Miss ; but if I marries at ail, FU 
 marry for something better nor beauty: 
 there's Miss Steel, the butcher's daughter, 
 his a heiress, and as a matter of 5000/. for 
 her fortin. I'll brush up to her. Aunty/' 
 
 " Ay, do so, and leave Miss Poverty-pride 
 to repent it," cried his aunt. " And I 
 thinks she can't do better nor go to reputable 
 sarvioe, far better nor to go strolling about 
 the country, like a vagabone : for my part, 
 I wishes the constables would take all such 
 up, and " 
 
 Mary, now quite deprived of patience, rose, 
 and addressed her aunt. " 1 came here, 
 madam, hearing you had been so good as to 
 send for my trunks, to take care of them for 
 me, to request you will let me have themj 
 as I want to pack up." 
 
 " My conscience won't permit me," re- 
 turned her aunt, looking towards the 
 preacher, " will it, my worthy Sir V* 
 
 '' No^'* cried Saintbury, " no, by no 
 means ; the creditors must have their right :
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 93 
 
 and were that not the case, any means are 
 justifiable in the sight of Heaven to distress 
 her, and prevent her if possible, from her 
 shameful purpose. I will take care she 
 shall not have a single change. Til send for 
 them, with vour leave, madam, directly — 
 David, call John our porter here." David 
 obeyed. " TU lock them up safe in my 
 ware-room, then let me see who dare touch 
 them."' The porter now entered. " John,*' 
 said Mr. Saintbmy, '' take your knot, and 
 go to Mrs. Gordon's, and bring those trunks 
 you fetched last night from the late Mr. 
 Irwin's, to my house here : lose no time, but 
 go.*' The man bowed and departed. 
 
 Our poor Heroine was now in a dreadful 
 fright ; how did she blame herself for wast- 
 ing her time in fruitless application, and not 
 deliver the Quaker's order to the attorney. 
 *' Now," thought she, '' 1 am completely 
 distressed indeed : and the friendly efforts of 
 those who strove to serve me of no avail." 
 In this distraction of mind, she hastily pro- 
 ceeded to the door, which the cunning 
 preacher perceiving her design, immediately 
 locked, and put the key in his pocket. 
 
 *' Howl Sir," exclaimed Mary, " am I,
 
 94 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 amid other cruelties and insults, to be made 
 a prisoner ?** 
 
 *' No, not long ;" returned he with a 
 malignant smile, " only till those trunks are 
 safe lodged in my possession, no longer : 
 you may then depart in peace. We are not 
 so enamoured with your presence to detain 
 you a moment longer : then, the sooner you 
 are gone, the better." 
 
 Mary was forced to remain in a state of 
 mind not easily described : in about a quarter 
 of an hour the porter came back, but without 
 the trunks. *' How is this ?" cried Saintburv 
 surprised. 
 
 The man said, he had obeyed his orders, 
 and demanded them from the maid servant, 
 but she declared that Mr. Craven the attor- 
 ney had himself come for them, by order 
 of Mr. Barclay, the Quaker, who was the 
 chief creditor, and showed her his authority; 
 upon which the girl wanted to consult her 
 mistress first, but he ordered his man, whom 
 he brought with him, to take them on his 
 shoulder, and away they both went. 
 
 ** Thank God !" ejaculated Mary si- 
 lently. 
 
 '* 'Tis well," exclaimed Saintbury quite
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 9^5 
 
 pleased, " 'tis just as well as if they were in 
 my keeping. She cannot have them, that's 
 some comfort : I see friend Barclay has 
 followed my opinion at last, and repented of 
 his mistaken lenity : now let me see, who 
 will get them out of our lawyer's clutches !" 
 
 *' Not very easily, I believe," said Hester, 
 suppressing a laugh : " but really, it is a sad 
 thing to be without one's clothes after all ;'* 
 and her eyes sparkled with malicious satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Mary made no reply, but rose. The 
 preacher understood her, and unlocked the 
 door, saying, " you may now depart : and 
 the time will come, when you will bitterly 
 repent the step you are taking, and your 
 refusal of my friendly and charitable roof. 
 Farewell !" Mary, disdaining replication, 
 passed hastily through the shop, and hurried 
 onward to Mrs. Forester's. 
 
 That amiable and disinterested friend 
 received her with open arms. "I am glad 
 you are come, my dear girl," said she : 
 " from 3^our long stay I conjectured what 
 would be the result, and my patience being 
 entirely worn out, and judging that delays 
 breed danger, I took the Quaker's letter to 
 Mr, Craven myself; he opened it, and said
 
 96 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 he would instantly comply with tne contents. 
 Highly satisfied with his obliging proniptitude, 
 I left him with many thanks, and having a 
 httle business in the town, I stopped at a 
 friend's : on my return home, I met the attor^ 
 ney and his man, with your trunks, convey- 
 ingr them to his own house." " Now, 
 madam, you see,'* he said, " I have lost no 
 time, and only wait for further orders from 
 Mr. Barclay." '' Was I not right, my iove> 
 to do the business at once, and have it out 
 of the way r" 
 
 " Most certainly, my best of friends," 
 replied Mary ; ^' but for your ready forecast, 
 all would have been seized by Saintbury, 
 and conveyed to his house, and then it would 
 be a difficult matter to make him resign 
 them." She then informed her friend of all 
 that had passed at the preacher's shop. 
 
 Mrs. Forester laughed heartily at the error 
 Saintbury entertained ; saying, " let him 
 enjoy his mistake, and hug himself, in their 
 supposed detention : but hov/ wilfhis malice 
 and your sister's be disappointed, when they 
 find you are set off in style, with all your 
 property along with you. I shall glory in 
 their long faces." 
 
 This good lady now told her friend it was
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 97 
 
 necessary for them to wait on the friendly 
 Quaker, and to know his further pleasure in 
 the business. Accordingly they both set 
 out, and luckily met with him at his own 
 door. " Well," said he, " hast thou deli- 
 vered my letter to friend Craven, our at- 
 torney ?** 
 
 " I have, Sir,** answered Mrs. Forester ; 
 " and he immediately complied with the 
 contents ; and the trunks, I have the plea- 
 sure to inform you, are now in his posses- 
 sion." 
 
 " 'Tiswell," returned the Quaker; "come 
 with me to my counting-house, and I will 
 give thee a line to him, that the trunks be- 
 longing to this young maiden may be deli- 
 vered safe unto her." 
 
 They followed to his office, and he penned 
 a few lines, saying, as he gave it to Mary : 
 '* This will be sufficient ; and I wish thee, 
 young friend, a good journey : hast thou far 
 to travel ?" 
 
 " Nearly two hundred miles," answered 
 Mrs. Forester, "and she was never half so 
 far before." 
 
 " And how art thou provided for thy 
 travel ?" 
 
 " Thank your benevolent interference, 
 
 Vf»T
 
 9^ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Sir/' said the grateful girl, " I shall have all 
 my property about me." 
 
 " But I mean as to thy pocket ? thy tra* 
 veiling expences ?" Poor Mary was silent. 
 
 " For that, Sir," her friend replied, " I 
 believe she must be indebted to a friend." 
 
 " Uniph /** responded Barclay. ^' Thy 
 road is long, and thy travelling expensive ; 
 thou art going peradventure to sojourn among 
 ■strangers ?" 
 
 Mary bowed in the affirmative. *' Vmph^'^ 
 ejaculated the Quaker a second time,. "" thy 
 situation is critical, young maiden, and re- 
 quireth all thy prudence to conduct thyself 
 away from thy friends : thou art an orphan 
 too, fatherless and motherless, more is the 
 pity ! I did esteem thy father, and I respect 
 his memory.'^ Nathan now crossed his hand 
 over his bushy brows, and complained of a 
 defluxion that affected his head and eyes, in 
 consequence of a cold : he now returned to 
 his desk, and opening it, presented the asto- 
 nished girl with two Bank of England notes 
 of ten pounds each ! adding, with a look of 
 ineffable benevolence, ''take these; these 
 will be thy friends, though strangers sur- 
 round thee, and will conduct thee to thy 
 journey's end. Fare thee well," Poor
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 99 
 
 Mary could not reply, but took his hand and 
 fervently kissed it : the good man smiled, 
 and parted from her, saying, " I wish thee 
 well : and success attend thy undertaking." 
 " Really," cried Mrs. Forester, as they 
 left the Quaker's, " I am quite in love with 
 Old Blackbeard ;" and away they both tripped 
 to the attorney, Mr. Craven was luckily 
 at home. Mary presented the letter to him, 
 which he had no sooner read, than he cried, 
 " Certainly, by all means. When I brought 
 them to my own house, they, I thought, 
 would be more secure in my custody, till 
 further orders ; and now, Miss, I with plea- 
 sure restore them." So saying, he desired 
 his servant to get a porter ; a man was soon 
 procured. The trunks were placed on his 
 shoulder, and he was directed to follow the 
 ladies, and to deposit them where they 
 thought proper. Mrs. Forester took them 
 under her own care, and safely locked them 
 up.
 
 100 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 CHx\PTER V. 
 
 The heart of Mary was now perfectly at 
 rest ; she was no longer harassed with inqui- 
 etude, nor perplexed as to the means of ac- 
 complishing the journey : the insults she 
 had received she now passed over with the 
 contempt they merited. She pitied more 
 than blamed the infatuated delusion of her 
 aunt, which she attributed to the real causes ; 
 the sanctified plausibility of Solomon Saint- 
 bury, and the imbecility of Mrs. Gordon's 
 intellects, and her naturally serious and reli- 
 gious turn ; for her sister Hester, she could 
 make no excuse, so unlike were they in dispo- 
 sition, that, had it not been from their strong 
 personal resemblance, which indubitably 
 proved their affinity, she would have ques- 
 tioned the possibility of their being the off- 
 spring of one father and mother. 
 
 Her only brother Edward, who had been 
 some years abroad with his regiment, she 
 dearly loved : he resembled his father in 
 countenance, person, and native goodness of 
 heart ; and he had always preferred his little
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 101 
 
 sister Mary, to the elder. She had written 
 to him the melancholy account of their 
 father's sudden death, which she laid wholly 
 to accident^ as she, with a few friends, 
 were inclined to attribute it, but could pos- 
 sibly receive no answer for some time to 
 come ; she now sat down, to let him know 
 she was leaving the place of their long 
 residence, and requested him to direct his 
 letters to her, to the care of their mutual 
 friend, the good Mrs. Forester : she, ho we- 
 aver, did not think it prudent to inform him 
 of the line of life in which she was going 
 to embark, at least, for the present, and 
 this caution, her friend highly approved. 
 
 In the evening, Mrs. Forester sent to 
 the coach-office to know, if any box or trunk 
 had arrived from town and directed for hen 
 The maid returned, and brought word, the 
 coach was expected in half an hour, and 
 any thing for her mistress, the book-keeper 
 informed her, would be delivered on its 
 arrival, according to order. In the mean 
 time, Mary employed herself in folding up 
 her things, and setting them to rights. 
 
 At length the sound of a distant horn, 
 which was borne on the wings of the wind, 
 gratefully saluted her ears, and gave Intel-
 
 102 THE ACTRESS Of 
 
 ligence the stage had arrived ; and in about 
 a quarter of an hour, the porter of the inn 
 appeared with a hair trunk, which con- 
 tained the expected paraphernaha ; it was 
 brought into Mrs. Forester's bed-room, and 
 when that lady unlocked it, for the key 
 was enclosed in a small parcel which accom- 
 panied the trunk, no words can justly con- 
 vey Mari/'s astonishment at the magnificent 
 display of the superb dresses, which Mrs. 
 Forester now unfolded, and laid on her 
 bed ; the richness of the velvet and satin 
 robes, white , black, blue, pink, and crimson. 
 The ghttering embroidery ! the taste and 
 brilliancy of the drapery ! the gold and 
 silver cords and tassels, dazzled at first, and 
 pained her sight ; but when the jewelry of 
 the most sparkling lustre, of the best 
 Doveys paste, were opened, her wonder 
 broke out into exclamation, " Bless me ! 
 Is it possible that the profession of an 
 actress can require such costly ornaments ! 
 such profusion of expence ! In my poor 
 opinion, what I see before me, is fitted for 
 the first princess or duchess, on a drawing 
 room or court day, and by far too rich and 
 valuable to be used on the stage." 
 
 Her friend smiled at the simplicity of
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 103 
 
 her remark, and observed, *' Such dresses 
 as these, my dear, are now indispensable, 
 for any young person in theatric hfe, Vi^ho 
 aims at excellence, and wishes to strike with 
 due effect, and make an impression." 
 
 " Strike," cried our heroine, " I shall be 
 the very queen of diamonds /" " I rather 
 wish you to be the queen of hearts^ my 
 dear Mary ; that your talents may outshine 
 your person ; but, so fastidious are even pro- 
 vincial audiences become of late years, that 
 the brightest parts pass unnoticed, without the 
 aid of conspicuous ornament. When I was 
 a girl, Managers, I have been told, furnished 
 those things ; but now, every actress finds 
 herself, unless, perhaps, in London. It is 
 much more convenient : being her own pro- 
 perty, she is naturally more careful ; she 
 can change, and alter, and trim them, as her 
 taste or fancy directs. They are fitted to 
 her size and shape ; and were it nothing 
 more, they stamp a value and respectabililt/ 
 on the possessor in the eyes of the Manager 
 and the profession in general. 
 
 Her kind friend continued to empty the 
 trunk of its contents : " there is here a com- 
 plete set of jet ornaments for mourning !— 
 and several yards pf rich foil-stone applique
 
 104 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 embroidery, to suit any dress ! here, a 
 quantity of old beautiful point lace, for old 
 English parts. Oh ! I see she has not for- 
 got the ostrich plumes. Upon my word, 
 my friend has made a most judicious and 
 tasteful arrangement, and I am exceedingly 
 obliged to her for her attention." 
 
 Mary's heart was full ; and throwing her- 
 self into her benefactress's arms, sobbed 
 aloud, " I can never, never, repay the 
 immense debt of gratitude I owe you, 
 Madam ; life is too shoit, and my abilities 
 too limited, to justify such excess of 
 generosity.*' 
 
 " Come, come, child," cried Mrs. For- 
 ester, " don't be silly, or I shall seize these 
 fine trappings, turn fool in my old days, 
 ^nd go on the stage myself, if you vex me : 
 so let me hear no more of this. Come, help 
 to fold and replace them properly." Mary 
 with alacrity obeyed, and when they had 
 finished, they sat down to their tea, which 
 rhey enjoyed with peculiar satisfaction. 
 
 As soon as tea was over, they moved 
 to the window, which was open, to enjoy 
 the refreshing evening breeze after a sultry 
 day. The prospect from thence was exten- 
 sive ; the cottage was built on the side of
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. iQj 
 
 the road on a gentle ascent, and they could 
 see nearly half a mile in a straight direction 
 to the outskirts of the town. " As I live," 
 exclaimed Mary, " here comes old nurse 
 Ann, hobbling along as fast as she can; 
 what can bring her this way ?** 
 
 " Perhaps," said her friend, '' some news 
 or fresh message from your sister, or from 
 your aunt ; though I cannot guess what 
 further business or intercourse they can 
 desire with you. Run down, Mary and 
 meet her, and bring her up stairs with you ; 
 she is a chatty old body, and nothing 
 pleases me more than when I see a person 
 far advanced in years, cheerful and content- 
 ed." Mary accordingly descended, and 
 met the old woman at the little gate of the 
 gteen plat in front of the cottage, whom she 
 immediately conducted up stairs, as Mrs. 
 Forester desired. " Take a seat, Ann," said 
 Mrs. Forester, as she entered with her young 
 mistress. 
 
 *' In good truth will I," cried Ann, 
 *< and thank you kindly too, Madam. Dear 
 me ! I have not been so far, since poor 
 dear master died, Heaven rest his soul ! 
 and my old legs ache so." 
 
 F 5
 
 106 THE ACTRESS OP 
 
 " What*s the news, Ann ?'* asked Mrs. 
 Forester. 
 
 " News! Madam! Sad news indeed! 
 All, every thing tumbled up side down. I 
 believe that wicked preacher, with a murrain 
 to him, will turn the house out of the 
 window next, for he has turned me out of 
 doors, and locked the door upon me, and 
 y^u too, my dear young lady, and that by 
 order, he says, of your aunt ; but that I 
 don't believe a word on. 'Tis all his own 
 vile doings. He says, your sister is gone to 
 live w^ith her aunt, and he does not see 
 what business you can, or /can have there 
 any longer, as the beds are to be taken 
 down, and sold on Monday, and the house 
 too. Alas ! Alas ! What a sad change ! It 
 breaks my old heart when I think on't.'^ 
 
 " Sad indeed, my good Ann,^' sighed 
 Mary ; "but we must submit to Providence, 
 and to necessity .^^ 
 
 *' Heaven forbid I should murmur at 
 the will of Providence \ Oh no,'^ cried Ann. 
 •' Heaven's good will be done ; but 1 
 had no notion of obeying his will and 
 pleasure forsooth ; and so I up and told him, 
 to be told by him to quit the house I have
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 107 
 
 lived in these twenty years and longer too ! 
 I was out of all patience." 
 
 " Well, it don't, good Ann, inconvenience 
 your young mistress, for she is to reside w^ith 
 me, till Monday, when she leaves us for 
 good," returned Mrs. Forester. " But what's 
 to become of youy my good old v^oman }" 
 
 " That's what I said. Madam, I asked, 
 how he could have the heart to come on 
 such an errand ? Or how he could have the 
 oudacious face to lock the door against my 
 sweet yoimg lady, a true born lady as she 
 is, but lack-a-day ! He has got no hearty 
 no more nor 2l flint stone^ ^tis only a giz- 
 zard^ by my truly !" 
 
 Mrs. Forester and Mary could not help 
 smiling at th€ oddity of the old nurse's 
 expression. 
 
 " W^ll, and behold you, Madam, all I 
 could say was of no use. He told me, yes, 
 that he did, the work-fiouse was good enough 
 for an old woman like me ; but I gave him 
 his own, with a pestilence to him. Marry 
 come up ! Work-hon^e indeed ! I told 
 him I was not obligated as yet to go into a 
 work-house, though I might live to see him 
 glad to go there ; that better nor he any day 
 were neceMtat^d^ poor .«ouls ! to go there :
 
 108 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 upon which he flew into such a passion, I 
 thought he would have struck me, but I 
 portest and vow if he had, I would have 
 thrown the oak-stool at his head, I would^ 
 as sure as he was born.'* 
 
 " Well, nurse,'* said Mary, smiling, 
 " how ended this mighty affray between 
 you ?" 
 
 "Why, Miss, you know it would be quite 
 undecent in an old woman like me to go to 
 fisty-cuffs with a man ; and so I fought 
 him with the weapon Nature gives us poor 
 women ; and I opened upon him so, that 
 he never had such sauce to his face served 
 up before in all his born days, and I called him 
 every thing but a gentleman, upon which 
 the brutish wretch took me by the shoulders, 
 and thrust me out ; but I followed him, and 
 demanded my box of clothes, upon this, 
 he asked me where it was ; I told him, and 
 then he said, it should be left with Robert 
 at the lodge for me. Ah ! says I, you 
 are a coward. Oh ! if my young master 
 Edward was here, back from the wars, he 
 would horse-whip you within an inch of 
 your life, for your treatment of his dear 
 young sister, and his poor old nurse. In 
 short, my dear Miss, I at last made him run
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 109 
 
 for it, and now I have hobbled up here, to 
 tell you the upshot." 
 
 " Well, my good Ann, rest you content 
 here for a few days," said Mrs. Forester, ''at 
 least till your young mistress sets off on her 
 journey, and then you can look about, and 
 see your friends ; my house-keeper will 
 make you comfortable." 
 
 " I most humbly thank you, my good, 
 lady," returned Ann, " for your kind offer, 
 and will thankfully accept it ; for it would kill 
 me, if my poor eyes did not take a parting 
 look of my sweet young lady ; then 1 shall 
 go to my niece, who lives only a mile from 
 our town here ; her husband is a carpenter^ 
 and well to do, and I can help to nurse 
 their children : I have plenty of good 
 clothes, and a few pounds saved in my good 
 master and mistresses service, blessings on 
 their memories ! so I shall be no encum- 
 brance, and shan't want, with the help of 
 Heaven." 
 
 '* Let me pour you out a glass of wine, 
 Ann, to recruit your spirits, after this dis- 
 agreeable encounter and your walk," and 
 the attentive Mrs. Forester handed to the 
 nurse a bumper ; she then rang the bell for 
 Rachel, her house-keeper.
 
 1 10 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Rachel was a steady and respectable 
 middle-aged woman, and a kind of distant 
 relative and humble dependant. As soon as 
 she entered, '' Rachel," said her mistress, 
 " take this old lady with you, make her a 
 comfortable cup of tea, she is to remain 
 here a few days, so I need not tell you to 
 make her welcome." The old nurse curtsied, 
 and went down with Rachel. 
 
 '' Now, my dear girl," said her con- 
 siderate friend, " let us this evening call on 
 Mrs. Mildmay, and take your leave of her ; 
 it is a mark of attention you owe her, and 
 she is one whose friendship I value, and 
 whose good opinion is worth your pre- 
 serving ; besides, she has promised you a 
 letter, to introduce you to her brother 
 Captain Mildmay, don't you remember? 
 and you cannot have too many friends to 
 patronize and protect a lone girl, like you, 
 from impertinent intrusion, and indirect 
 insult." 
 
 Mary thanked her for reminding her of 
 the obligations she was under to that 
 worthy lady ; and they directly set for- 
 ward on their visit. They had not far to go, 
 for she resided in the main street. Before 
 they got to her dqor, they perceived Mrs.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. Ill 
 
 Mildmay returning to her own house : 
 they arrived just as she had the knocker in 
 her hand : after the usual salutations, " We 
 have just called/' said Mrs. Forester," for 
 our young friend here could not set out on 
 her journey, without waiting on you, 
 Madam, to return her warmest acknowledg- 
 ments for the regard you have shown to her 
 and the family, but particularly for your 
 very considerate and elegant present, her 
 mother's miniature/^ 
 
 " The manner in which it was bestowed,'* 
 added Mary, " has redoubled my obligations, 
 and I could not leave this place, without 
 calling, personally to assure you, no lapse 
 of time, nor distance of place, can oblite- 
 rate the high estimation in which I hold 
 your friendship." 
 
 " You are a good girl,'' replied Mrs. 
 Mildmay, ** and I was partial to you, from 
 the moment I became acquainted with you, 
 I should be quite dispirited at your loss, did 
 I not think you are changing for the better ; 
 but when do you set off .^'^ 
 
 " On Monday morning, Madam, by the 
 coach, at half past "five o'clock.'^ 
 
 " Why, as I live and breathe," cried Mrs. 
 Mildmay, ** that is the very coach I go by.
 
 112 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 I have this morning received a letter from 
 my brother, the old Captain, who is appre- 
 hensive of another severe attack of the gout, 
 and he is quite miserable, if I set not out 
 on the receipt of his letter, to nurse him 
 during the fit. This is his second attack, 
 within these two years ; it don't last long, 
 but it serves as an excuse to detain me on a 
 three months visit, you stop at ^^ 
 
 " I do. Madam," said Mary. 
 
 " The luckiest thing imaginable,'^ re- 
 turned Mrs. Mildmay : " we shall be fellow 
 travellers all your road, for my brother 
 
 Mildmay lives at ■ , which is about 
 
 fifty miles further, on the direct road. How 
 luckv!" 
 
 " This is indeed a most fortunate occur- 
 rence for Mary," cried Mrs. Forester. 
 *' Even to those who are accustomed to 
 travelling, to be crammed in a coach, with 
 a parcel of perfect strangers, is at all times 
 disagreeable, and must be doubly irksome 
 and dispiriting to one wholly unused to 
 such a vehicle, especially on leaving her 
 friends behind her, and going to a strange 
 place, and among a society she is as yet 
 unacquainted with.'^ 
 
 Mrs. Mildmay rang the bell for the foot-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 113 
 
 boy. *' Run directly, Thomas/' cried she^ 
 pulling out her purse, *' to the George Inn, 
 and book me for another place in the five 
 o'clock coach on Monday morning." Seeing 
 Mary going to put her hand in her pocket, 
 " you can pay me on the road : as there are 
 only two seats vacant, the sooner I secure 
 one for you the better, for fear of disappoint- 
 ment ; and there is no travelling outside two 
 hundred miles, and a night on the road ; so 
 let me do as I please for the present." 
 
 The boy took the fare from his mistress, 
 and- went and did as he was ordered ; he re- 
 turned and said, he was just in- time, for 
 one place that was vacant had been taken 
 but five minutes before ; and as he was leav- 
 ing, the coach-office, a passenger came to 
 engage the very last one he had just se- 
 cured. 
 
 " You see, my dear," observed Mrs. 
 Mildmay, '' we cannot be too prompt on 
 these occasions : have your trunks prepared 
 and corded by to-morrow evening, and the 
 Inn porter that calls for mine, shall take 
 your's at the same time : where are they ?" 
 
 '' At my house," answered Mrs. Fo- 
 rester. 
 
 " Now, y<>u shall both stay, and have a
 
 114 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 bit of early supper with me ; and I shall send 
 you home about ten ; it will be a beautiful 
 moon-light night, and we shall have full 
 moon on our travel.** 
 
 The ladies now chatted on various sub- 
 jects till supper was ready: among other 
 matters, Mrs. Mildmay mentioned, it was 
 now fixed, that the creditors of Mary^s 
 father had consented to take fifteen shillings 
 in the pound, as the house, furniture, and 
 lands, would be sufficient to answer that 
 amount, leaving a surplus of one thousand 
 pounds ; which was determined to be thus 
 divided among the children : 400/. for the 
 son Edward, to help him towards purchasing 
 a company ; and 300/. each to the two 
 daughters ; and that the youngest, Mary's 
 share, she being yet a minor, was to be de- 
 posited in the hands of Mr. Nathan Barclay, 
 the Quaker, payable to her with interest, at 
 the age of twent^^-one. 
 
 Mary was rejoiced to hear this. Such a 
 sum, or indeed any, was entirely unlooked 
 for, and she silently returned thanks to 
 Heaven, that her money was to be placed 
 in such secure and friendly hands. " Now,*' 
 said she to Mrs. Forester, " Providence, my 
 dear Madam, will, I see, at length enable me
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 115 
 
 to repay the numerous expences you have 
 incurred on my account ; but the debt of 
 gratitude I can never discharge/* " Oh ! 
 Madam/' continued she, turning to Mrs. 
 Mildmay: *' did you know Mrs. Forester's 
 goodness to me, the extent of my obhga- 
 
 tions to " 
 
 Mrs. Forester, with the first look of 
 displeasure she ever cast on Mary, put her 
 hand on her mouth, saying : " If you don't 
 wish to offend me past reconciliation, you 
 will instantly forbear this language.'' The ser- 
 vant now announced supper ; and they all rose. 
 They chatted a full hour after supper ; and 
 at half past ten, wished the friendly Mrs. 
 Mildmay good night ; who, as she saw them 
 to the door, desired Mary not to forget to 
 call on her as she passed her house in her 
 way to the inn on Monday morning ; and 
 she would be ready to accompany her to the 
 coach. 
 
 Mary faithfully promised she would re- 
 member the appointment; and Mrs. Forester 
 and she returned to the cottage. 
 
 In the morning, after breakfast, it being 
 Sunday, Mrs. Forester proposed a walk to 
 the village church, and hear their good friend 
 Mr. Percy read prayers and preach. Nothing
 
 116 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 could be more agreeable to Mary ; the morn- 
 ing was pleasant, and not too warm, and 
 they set out betimes. " It may, indeed, be 
 the last time I shall have the happiness of 
 seeing him ; and I should deem myself in- 
 excusable if I did not embrace the opportu- 
 nity." She recollected too, that it was that 
 church-yard which held the mortal remains 
 of her beloved and honoured parents ; that 
 it was her reverend friend who performed 
 the solemn rites of interment ; that it was 
 there she had dropped the tender, yet ago- 
 nized tear of filial piety ! Every thing, there- 
 fore, conspired to induce her to pay it a last 
 visit, and drop a last parting sigh over the 
 grave that held them. 
 
 They arrived at the church before the bells 
 had done chiming ; and they seated them- 
 selves in a pew near the reading-desk ; the 
 con2:re£ration were numerous : the venerable 
 pastor soon appeared, with his usual placid 
 serenity in his countenance, which spoke the 
 heavenly duty that occupied his thoughts ; 
 and the humility and piety that reigned 
 within : as he passed them, he smiled and 
 bowed, which they returned : it was impos- 
 sible to be inattentive while Mr. Percy offi- 
 ciated : his clear and impressive tones, and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 117 
 
 the awful) yet fervent solemnity of his 
 manner reached every heart : his text was a 
 portion of the Lord's Prayer — '* And lead 
 us not into templatio?i^ but deliver us froin 
 evil" He, in a masterly manner, expatiated 
 on the delusive pleasures of this hfe, the 
 many snares too often spread to catch the un- 
 wary, and particularly youth ; how constant 
 we should be in our supplication to Heaven^ 
 to divert our path from the dangerous road 
 that lay before us, and to strengthen us to 
 avoid and resist the evils which daily and 
 hourly encompassed us around : that our own 
 strength was insufficient, and prayer alone 
 could be our support in the day of trial. 
 
 When the service was over, Mr. Percy 
 waited for, and received them at the church 
 door as they quitted the pew, Mary told 
 him, she came to wish him good-bye, as she 
 set out early in the morning : he thanked 
 her politely for the attention she had shown 
 to an old man, and reminded her of the pro- 
 mise of correspondence : ^vhile Mrs. Fores- 
 ter was mentioning to him what had oc- 
 curred since they saw him, Mary slipped 
 from them, and as they turned their heads, 
 for now none remained In the church-vard 
 hut themselves, the Reverend Divine said
 
 118 THE ACTRESS OP 
 
 to Mrs. Forester, " There, Madam ! behold 
 her kneehng and bending over her parents' 
 grave ! See her upraised hands and eyes ! 
 now she kisses the cold turf that covers 
 them ! Exemplary child ! the pious drops of 
 filial love and veneration which bedews the 
 face of the orphan, is holy water in the sight 
 of Heaven ! Let her remain awhile ; the duty 
 is too tender^ too sacred^ to be interrupted." 
 
 In a few minutes Mary arose and returned 
 to them, with a serene composure, which 
 evinced the inward satisfaction she had en- 
 joyed. On separating with Mr. Percy at his 
 own house, which he insisted they should enter, 
 and t^ke 3. parting-glass of wine, as he called 
 it, Mary took his hand, which she kissed, 
 while he poured a benediction on her head ; 
 the full tear glistened as they left him, say- 
 ing, " Farewell, sweet girl ! Farewell.^^ 
 
 The remainder of the day was spent in pre- 
 parations ; and the whole family were up fif- 
 teen minutes before five next morning. Mrs. 
 Forester and Old Nurse saw her and Mrs. 
 Mildmay safely seated in the coach, but not 
 before she had affectionately embraced her 
 friend and old Ann, who sobbed aloud ; and 
 kept praying for blessings on her dear child's 
 liead, till the coach was out of sight.
 
 CHE PRESENT DAY, 119 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 jVIary, who had never before travelled so 
 =fa.r, nor passed a night on the road, bore 
 the fatigue much better than might be ex- 
 pected : the motion of the coach kept her 
 awake, though it lulled the other passengers 
 to rest ; and Mrs. Mildmay, used to long 
 journeys, enjoyed as comfortable a nap, 
 as though she was seated in an easy chair, 
 by a large fire of a wi uteres evening ; from 
 the number of outside passengers and 
 quantity of luggage, with which the roof 
 and dickey were loaded, Mary was terrified 
 at every jolt the carriage gave ; and the 
 rapidity with which the coachman drove 
 greatly alarmed her ; for there was a com- 
 petition between this and another coach, 
 which should arrive to such a town first. 
 Her terror was greatly increased on a gen- 
 tleman assuring her, he was very unfor- 
 tunate, for he had been twice, on this very 
 road, overturned, within the last twelve 
 months, but he had escaped with a few 
 bruises, while most of the other passengers
 
 120 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 had a leg or an arm broken ; and he described 
 the deep descent of the hill, and sudden 
 turn of the road they were fast approaching, 
 as the most dangerous imaginable, and 
 where the misfortune usually befell. He 
 now called to the guard to descend, and 
 lock the wheel, but the caution was unheed- 
 ed ; the risk of the passengers* necks was 
 nothing in coachey*s estimation, to the 
 triumph of getting in before the other op- 
 position coach ; taking advantage of the 
 other's caution, Mr. Whip put his horses 
 to their speed, and dexterously passed his 
 competitor down the steep descent with the 
 rapidity of lightning. Poor Mary screamed 
 with affright, but the coachman carried his 
 point, and completely distanced his rival. 
 
 On changing horses and coachman. 
 Jehu hoped the passengers would remember 
 him for his cleverness ; but they unani- 
 mously agreed not to give him a farthing, 
 as it was twenty to one some accident had 
 not befallen it. A grave gentleman obsen^ed 
 that there ought to be an act passed, to 
 regulate the rate of going, as well as the 
 number of passengers outside, that the one 
 >vas to the full as expedient as the other; 
 and in this every one coincided. Nothing
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 191 
 
 worthy notice occurred during the remainder 
 of the journey, and Mary reached her des- 
 tination the following evening about six. 
 Mrs. Mildmay remained at the inn all 
 night, and set off at seven next morning 
 for , the residence of her brother, assur- 
 ing Mary, she would mention her to Cap- 
 tain Mildmay ; she likewise wrote the pro- 
 mised letter of introduction, for her to 
 present, when she arrived at that place. 
 After refreshing herself with tea at the 
 
 inn, she wrote a line to Mr. P •, the 
 
 manager, informing him of her safe arrival ; 
 that gentleman as soon as he received the 
 note, immediately waited upon her. Mary's 
 ideas which she had formed in her own 
 mind of performers and managers in par- 
 ticular, were perhaps as erroneous, though 
 not so uncharitable a& the generality of man- 
 kind: she imagined that she should see 
 something eccentric or outre, either in 
 their dress, manner, conversation, or de- 
 portment from other persons ; in short, that 
 they carried their profession constantly 
 about them in some shape or other. Had she 
 lived some thirty years ago, and drawn her 
 conceptions from the itinerant parties then 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 1'2^ tHE ACTRESS OF 
 
 too common in every small town, she 
 might perhaps have been justified in such 
 an opinion. But the case is widely differ- 
 ent at the present day. Judge then how 
 agreeably she was surprised in beholding a 
 most respectable portly gentleman, about 
 sixty, ushered in, whose jolly, open coun- 
 tenance bespoke good humour ; and whose 
 dress and manner corresponded to the appear- 
 ance of a substantial and opulent merchant. 
 She arose at his entrance : he advanced in 
 a cordial friendly manner, and took her 
 hand ; " Well, my dear, you are come, I 
 see ; I am happy to receive you, and hope 
 to make you comfortable ; the high terms in 
 which our mutual friend, the good Mrs. Fo- 
 rester has spoken of you, give me the most 
 sincere satisfaction. Though I decidedly 
 select persons of talent, I am more particular 
 still, as to their private conduct ; and 1 have 
 the sincere happiness to state, that the ladies 
 and gentlemen belonging to my theatre, are 
 universally esteemed, and invited by the 
 most respectable inhabitants of every town 
 m our extensive circuit, on account of their 
 prudence, and discreet private character. 
 You have recently met a severe loss ?'' and 
 here he cast his eyes on her mourning.
 
 THE PRESENT t)AV. 12S 
 
 '* I have, Sir/^ sighed Mary, " recently 
 lost the best of fathers/^ 
 
 *' So I have been informed. You must 
 therefore allow me in some measure to sup- 
 ply his place, as far as an old bachelor can 
 assume that character." 
 
 " You are truly good, Sir,^^ returned Mary, 
 highly pleased at the parental concern his 
 countenance betokened. 
 
 " Well, my dear Miss Irwin,*^ said Mr. 
 
 P . '< We open to-morrow evening : 
 
 this is Tuesday ; but as you will require a 
 few days to recruit your spirits and recover 
 your fatigue, I shall dispense with your ser- 
 vices till next Monday. What part do you 
 prefer opening with ?'^ 
 
 " Juliet; if you approve, Sir.^^ 
 
 '* Well, my dear, you could not fix upon 
 a more judicious choice ; it is a part highly 
 favourable to a young candidate ; and your 
 age, face, and figure are exactly suited to the 
 character : but, tell me, are you well studied V* 
 
 " I don't exactly comprehend you, Sir,*' 
 said Marv. 
 
 Mr. P smiled. *' I meat), Miss, 
 
 how many other parts, besides Juliet, are 
 you perfiect in ?" 
 
 '' In about half a dozen, Sir." 
 
 G 2
 
 124- THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 ^ " Well, that is something ; but I, with all 
 my soul, wish it w^ere a dozen : have you a 
 good study ?^' asked Mr. P . 
 
 " I have a very retentive memory, Sir." 
 f '* That's well ; but I mean, a quick onef'^ 
 
 " I cannot say, Sir : I have not had, as yet, 
 any occasion to put it to the test." 
 
 " Well, well,'^ returned the Manager, " I 
 must not press you too much ; slow and 
 sure, is the safer and more judicious plan : 
 so I won't hurry you. Pll run you, if you 
 succeed, as I have little doubt you will, in 
 your first six characters ; in the mean time, 
 I shall discover your capabilities, and give 
 you two or three additional parts to under 
 study ; that you may he easy in them, when 
 called upon. Yes, yes, I must nurse you, 
 I see : have you a talent for comedy V* 
 
 " I admire the higher walk of genteel 
 comedy, Sir, greatly.'^ 
 
 " That is wdiat I mean," cried the Mana- 
 ger : " loii) comedy is not suited to your 
 veal's, nor figure ; it demands practice and 
 experience. You are not partial to the girls, 
 or romps ?'^ 
 
 " Oh, wo, Sir,^' answered Mary. " I think 
 there is a vulgarity bordering upon indeli- 
 cacy in such drawn characters."
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 125 
 
 *' You are perfectly right, my dear ; as 
 they are generally personated. Girls, for the 
 most part, think a pert forwardness com- 
 pletes the picture ; but they are mistaken : 
 it requires more precision and judgment than 
 thev are aware. Archness must be blended 
 with simplicity^ and natural vivacity must 
 appear innocent to captivate and not offend 
 the ear and eye. The inimitable Jordan 
 combined those rare excellencies, which 
 throws all competitors in that line to- an 
 immeasurable distance, so that I despair of 
 seeing an adequate successor to her in that 
 particular department; and we still want, 
 though the deficiency is not so manifest,'^ 
 thorough representative to fill the late Miss 
 Farren's place.^' 
 
 Mary modestly replied : " From every 
 thing that Mrs. Forester has told me relative 
 to that fascinating woman, she is the model 
 I would be ambitious to emulate.'^ 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; but time will be neces- 
 sary for accomplishing that, as other things : 
 there is a peculiar ease and naivete in fa- 
 shionable life, the assumption of which is 
 easily seen through: it must be naturally 
 graceful to command our admiration, there- 
 fore very difficult, if at a// attainable. You
 
 1S6 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 have, therefore. Miss Irwin, advantages few 
 of the profession can boast ; early accus- 
 tomed to pohshed society in your family 
 and visitors, you have only to preserve that 
 native freedom and ease it is evident you 
 have imbibed, and by attention, you will 
 doubtless attain to that eminence to which 
 you aspire. Genteel comedy, and tender 
 impassioned tragedy, are the lines, I perceive, 
 best suited to your abilities.'" 
 
 " Those, Sir, are the lines I prefer; 
 though w^e are not always the best judges of 
 our own capabilities." 
 
 *' That proves to me,^' said the Manager, 
 '^* as Stockwell says to Belcour, ' that I shall 
 not have the fault of self-conceit to combat ;' 
 that, at least, is not among the number." 
 But come with me, my dear ; an inn is not 
 a fit place for a lone young lady to abide in. 
 Y\\ tuck you under my arm, and you shall 
 take a little refreshment, at my apartments, 
 while I send my house-keeper to prepare 
 your lodgings for your reception. I have 
 looked out two neat rooms, a bed-chamber 
 and sitting-room for you ; they are small, 
 but commodious, and the persons with whom 
 you are to dwell, very decent, well-behaved 
 people : they are very obliging too, and that
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 127 
 
 js more than can be said of the major part 
 who let lodgings: so, put your hand under 
 my arm, and away well trudge it. '^ 
 
 Mary, highly pleased with his familiar 
 urbanity, so different from the stiff formality 
 or hauteur^ her inexperience led her to ex- 
 pect, immediately complied : and as they 
 
 proceeded — " Stop," cried Mr. P ^^ 
 
 " let us return, and leave word with the 
 book-keeper at the coach-ofFice, to send your 
 trunks in the morning to your lodgings; as 
 you may want a change.'^ This done, he 
 conducted her to his abode, and immediately 
 dispatched his messenger to apprize the good 
 woman of the arrival of her lodger. 
 
 Mr. P- • then said, " I will not de- 
 tain you, Miss, . only till the messenger re- 
 turns ; and then she shall conduct you : but 
 I insist you take a glass of wine and a Sand- 
 wich after your long travel, and then, I 
 would advise you to retire early to rest : 
 consider, you have travelled all night, and 
 a sound repose is necessary to restore you. ^^ 
 Mary ate a Sandwich, and drank two 
 
 glasses of w^ine ; and as soon as Mr. P ^s 
 
 house-keeper returned, and informed her every 
 thing ^vas prepared for her reception, she 
 arose, and having returned thanks to the Ma-
 
 128 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 nager for his friendly and polite attentioo, 
 'wished him a good night. " Good night- 
 my dear/' said he, taking her hand, '* 1 
 shall call upon you in the course of to-mor- 
 row, and co/iduct you to our theatre/' She 
 now accompanied her guide to the lodgings 
 as appointed. 
 
 On their way, the good woman let her 
 know something of the Manager^s character, 
 " He is an old bachelor, and is very rich ; 
 he has two sisters, old maids, but they don^t 
 reside with him ; he is in general as you see, 
 but sometimes a little gruffish and distant, 
 particularly to those he don't like ; but you 
 must take no notice of that, he will come 
 round again of his own accord : he can't 
 bear airs nor conceit in man or woman, no- 
 thing fidgets him more ; but he is a steady 
 friend where he takes : you seem the very 
 person likely to retain his good opinion : he 
 is not one of your sudden, every-day friends, 
 who are all smoothness and profession, and 
 no reality : no, no, I assure you ; he has 
 lodged in my house these sixteen years, and 
 I keep these apartments you saw, the year 
 round for him ; and it is hard if I don't know 
 his character by this time." 
 
 Mary was obliged to her for this informa-
 
 THfi PRESENT DAY. 129 
 
 tion, and said, she would study to deserve 
 his good opinion. When they arrived at the 
 lodging, she was truly delighted at the com- 
 fortable appearance and convenience of her 
 apartments, and the willing attention the 
 man and woman of the house seemed in- 
 clined to bestow. She agreed to pay fifteen 
 shillings w^eekly ; for which they were to 
 provide every convenience, boil her kettle, 
 and prepare her meals ; and their servant 
 was to run of any little errand for her. 
 
 " If,^' thought she, " from the sample 
 before me, players in general are so gen- 
 teelly accommodated, and treated with such 
 apparent respect, what erroneous and degrad- 
 ing notions have most people formed of 
 them ! I expected to see them held in cold 
 contempt, or at least with indifference : but 
 the very contrary is the case. I believe it is 
 in this profession, as in all other situations 
 in life, you must first respect ?/07<r5e//* in 
 order to be respected by others ; but let me 
 not be too sanguine, probably- 1 view things 
 in too favourable a light, and know not the 
 troubles and perplexities incident to such a 
 life ; but I am embarked in it, and must 
 summon my fortitude to bear its vicissi- 
 tudes." 
 
 G 5
 
 130 THE ACTRESS OP 
 
 She arose next morning about nine, per- 
 fectly recovered. She had scarcely done 
 breakfast, when the inn-porter arrived with 
 her trunks. She wilhngly rewarded the man 
 for his punctuality, as a change was now. 
 both necessary and refreshing : accordingly, 
 s:,e unp.xked a few articles for immediate 
 vise. 
 
 In about an hour after, Mrs. Howard 
 waited on her, and requested to know what 
 hour she would please to dine : poor Mary 
 had not given it a thought, and answered : 
 *' When you p'ease.^' — " No, Madam, when 
 your pleasure is : for though we usually dine 
 early, about two o^clock, yet, as we hope to 
 have the favour of your company this day to 
 dine with us, it shall be ready at your own 
 hour.^^ 
 
 *' Two o'clock is the hour I prefer, as my 
 business will require a long afternoon. I 
 thank you. Madam," added Mary,, '' for your 
 friendly invitation, which I accept with 
 pleasure.'^ 
 
 Our Heroine now retired to dress : her 
 change, though black, was tasteful and be- 
 coming ; the transparent clearness of her 
 skin, her dark chesnut hair, her lull hazel 
 eye, arched brow, Roman nose, the dimples
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 131 
 
 that played in her cheeks, and the full glow 
 of vivid health diffused over her inteUigent 
 countenance, added to the perfect symmetry 
 of her person, of a height sufficiently com- 
 manding: all struck the beholder, and ri- 
 vetted attention ; the picture was complete 
 ifi every point of view : but when she spoke, 
 the fullness and sweetness of her voice, the 
 beauties that hovered on her lips, which dis- 
 closed the pearly lustre that adorned them, 
 left nothing that the most critical eye or ear 
 could wish to alter or amend. But Mary, 
 habitually neat, needed not the foreign aid of 
 ornament: the embellishment of her person 
 was her last consideration : her niindj that 
 imperishable^ invaluable part, claimed her 
 sole attention ; it w^^that she strove to adorn 
 and improve. 
 
 About twelve o^clock , Mr. P was 
 
 announced; Mary met him on the stairs, 
 and conducted him to the sitting-room: 
 struck with her appearance, he stood still for 
 a few seconds, surveying her from head to 
 foot ; and then, playing with his cane, which 
 was his constant custom when any thing 
 pleased him, exclaimed: "Well, my dear, 
 you look a downright blooming Hebe, I de- 
 clare : you will strike admiration dtiml^
 
 132 .THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 when you are dressed for the stage! but come 
 with me, Pll show you our theatre, and as 
 we are now rehearsing, Pll introduce you to 
 the green-room/' On this, as before, he 
 took her under his arm, and they proceeded. 
 
 Mary, who had never before seen the in- 
 terior of a regular theatre, was astonished at 
 the scenery and machinery which every 
 where met her eve : and as this was the last 
 rehearsal of a new piece, the scenes were 
 now worked, and she was surprised at the 
 rapid dexterity of the shifters and carpen- 
 ters, and the number of hands employed. 
 
 Mr. P -» now conducted her to the 
 
 green-room, and introduced her in form to 
 the whole company there assembled. 
 
 She was received with the utmost polite- 
 ness and seeming cordiality, v/hich removed 
 her embarrassment. She could observe the 
 ladies were mostly married v/ornen, and 
 there appeared neither in their dress nor 
 their manners any difference between them 
 and other respectable persons in private 
 life : they were conversable and intelligent ; 
 and mutual concord and good humour ap- 
 peared to reign among them. 
 
 A handsome ornamental chimney-piece, 
 and an elegant lustre graced the room, a rich
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 133 
 
 carpet covered it, the forms around were 
 stuffed and covered with green paragon, 
 while two high chairs of state with foot 
 boards, were richly gilt and ornamented, the 
 seats and backs of crimson damask : these, 
 she was informed, were used occasionally on 
 the stage. Having remained in familiar 
 converse for better than an hour, one of the 
 ladies, whose scenes were over, said she 
 w^ould be happy to see her to her lodgings ; 
 as she passed by Mrs. Howard's door, to go 
 to her own habitation. Mary thanked her, 
 and took a polite leave of the company, and 
 Miss Thompson (for that was her name 
 who proffered her attention) and Mary both 
 returned together. 
 
 There was a vivacity in Miss Thompson's 
 face and manner peculiarly pleasing, and a 
 frank sincerity about her, that insensibly won 
 the good opinion of every body : Mary was 
 greatly taken with her cheerful, yet modest 
 deportment, and soon discovered her to be 
 sagacious and discriminating. *' I will cul- 
 tivate a friendly intercourse with this youn^ 
 lady : the few years she is my senior, is all 
 to my advantage, as I shall reap the informa- 
 tion I want; and her society will be a valu- 
 able acquisition : I will learn first her pri-
 
 1S4 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 vate character before I make advances to- 
 wards an intimacy." These thoughts oc- 
 cupied our Heroine's mind, after she had 
 parted from Miss Thompson. 
 
 Mrs. Howard and her husband received 
 their new lodger w^ith every mark of atten- 
 tion : an excellent dinner was provided, 
 and Mary passed a most agreeable day, 
 chatting upon various occurrences, the news 
 of the town, and the characters of the inha- 
 bitants. The town, she observed, was full of 
 military^ and the appearance of a well-dress- 
 ed female stranger had attracted their general 
 notice. They now informed her, that the 
 theatre was generally crowded, though the 
 company performed six times in the week : 
 ** It is owing to your short stay. Miss, for 
 five weeks is the usual length. But you, I 
 dare say,^^ said Mrs. Howard, " will not 
 be called upon so often, for I hear this is 
 your Jirst season.'^ 
 
 Mary assured her it w^as, and that she 
 should feel very awkward at first. " Law, 
 Miss !" cried Mrs. Howard, " it is nothing 
 when you are used to it; and our people 
 are a very good-natured audience, I assure 
 you ; I have seen actors applauded here, 
 in my young days, that would not be
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 13^ 
 
 borne elsewhere: but the present company 
 bear a very high character, both pubhc and 
 
 private ; for Mr. P , to his credit, i& 
 
 very particular in those matters/' 
 
 After they had drank tea, the Manager 
 called on Mary, and said, " My dear, if you 
 are not fatigued, suppose you go with me 
 and see the performance to-night : ^tis a new 
 Melo-Drame, and I have got it up in style ; 
 you will be greatly gratified, I assure you, 
 and you may return when you like, and not 
 stay for the entertainment if you don't 
 choose. You can then form your idea of 
 our people's method and manner, which is 
 necessary before your first appearance.*' 
 
 Mary perfectly agreed with him as to the 
 propriety of her witnessing two or three re- 
 presentations, before she made her debut. 
 " You shall sit in my private box, my dear, 
 so you will avoid the gaze of the puppies, 
 and the officers who frequent us." He then 
 said, he would introduce Romeo to her in 
 the morning, in order to go over her scenes 
 with him, before a general rehearsal. " He 
 is a clever young man, and understands his 
 business ; he will give you many serviceable 
 hints.'^ Mary said she would be happy to 
 receive instruction at all times : and begged
 
 ]36 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Mr. P to correct her errors. " Time 
 
 enough, when 1 see them, Miss :'^ returned 
 he laughing. 
 
 Mary now asked him his real opinion of 
 IMiss Thompson : upon which, he entered 
 largely in her praise. '' You may, my dear 
 Miss Irwin, with safety, cultivate her ac- 
 quaintance : she is a good and a prudent 
 girl ; she is one, who will never betray 
 your confidence, nor make you repent of 
 friendship wrongly placed ; I don^t know a 
 worthier-hearted young lady, and that is 
 more than I can say of all: though they 
 are, ^\\ prudent, and correct in their beha- 
 viour.'' 
 
 Mary now entered the private box ; the 
 house was lighted up, and the pit and gal- 
 leries nearly full, the boxes were fiUing 
 fast, and before the curtain drew up the 
 theatre w^as crowded in every part. The 
 play was the Exile, and the manner in 
 which it was got up, did justice to the 
 Manager's liberalit3^ The frozen regions of 
 Siberia W'cre so characteristically depicted, 
 that, though the house was an overflow in 
 the month of August, the heat was not 
 felt, such a chilling effect had the scenery 
 on the spectator.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 137 
 
 The hero and heroine of the piece, Ro- 
 manqff] or Daran^ and Alexina^ were 
 interesting characters in her idea, more 
 from their situation, than force of language, 
 or discrimination of the passions ; the pa- 
 geantry of the procession was grand and 
 imposing, and the music on the whole 
 pleasing. The song of Catharine^ " The 
 Monkey who had seen the world, ^' struck 
 her most, and it was tastefully and scien- 
 tifically executed. The orchestra was ably 
 conducted and complete, though not nu- 
 merous, and she hinted as much to Mr. 
 
 P . " Yes, my dear,^' said he, " Mr. 
 
 B. our leader, is a very clever man, and 
 has the whole management of that depart- 
 ment. I am no judge myself ; I leave it all 
 to him.^' 
 
 Mary, notwithstanding she was highly 
 gratified on the whole, thought there was a 
 deficiency of feeling in the heroine^ who 
 was tall and tolerably well made, but rant 
 was too frequently substituted for pathos ; 
 the little interesting touches of nature which 
 convey an indescribable sensation, were too 
 apt to be overlooked, or thought of minor 
 consideration ; every thing was smooth and 
 perfect, but striking genius was not ap-
 
 1:36 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 pai'ont. She, however, returned home im- 
 pressed with the respeetability of the per- 
 formance, and the candour and liberality of 
 the audience. 
 
 She was requested to meet the gentle- 
 man who was to perform JRomcOy next day 
 at twelve o'clock at the theatre, that they 
 might run over their scenes prirately, as 
 there was no other than a musical rehearsal 
 that morning, and they would have the 
 stage to themselves. Accordingly, she 
 gladly complied. The Manager was pre- 
 sent the whole time, and pointed out to 
 hei' the little minutiae of the business, 
 w^hich, though apparently trifling, is of the 
 utmost moment for the geneiul and i-egular 
 effect. The only observation he made to 
 her, w^as tlie following : '' My dear Miss, 
 nature has oifted you with a clear and 
 melodious voice, of great compass, but you 
 must speak louder, though you fill the 
 house at present, consider the benches are 
 empty, and your voice now reverberates ; 
 but it is widely different when the house is 
 full, it will demand at least double the 
 exertion you now use, to be heard distinctly. 
 You have powers to fill the largest London 
 tiieatre, but you have yet to learn the
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 139 
 
 proper management and pitch of your 
 voice. Every theatre has its own particular 
 sounding key, which suits it best ; that key 
 must be discovered. By pitching your voice 
 m different keys, your own ear will imme- 
 diately feel it, and direct you in the due 
 modulation Preserve that tone in which you 
 usually speaks when addressing a person at 
 some distance ; only be slower in articu- 
 lation, that the words may travel, and 
 reach the ear of the most distant auditor. 
 The tone you are accustomed to, is the 
 most firm and permanent ; though not the 
 loudest, it is the strongest. This is the only 
 observation I have to make at present. I 
 will say, I have not witnessed a voice so 
 sound, and yet so sweet, these many years. 
 Other ladies have louder ; but your's, if you 
 take the above caution, will be much more 
 audible ; so you may give over for the 
 present : three more public rehearsals will 
 be sufficient. '^ 
 
 Mary treasured in her mind these salutary 
 cautions, the fruits of experience and sound 
 judgment. •'• The judicious management 
 of the voice, I find, is of more conse- 
 quence, than I at first supposed. By havin'^ 
 it under due control, it will obey the ?m-
 
 140 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 pulse of the scene, swell into energy, or 
 melt into plaintive tenderness. I will avoid 
 the fault, which I perceived in others, an 
 indiscriminate loud tone, a full and labour- 
 ed monotony, in which, though the strength 
 of the lungs may be applauded, the judg- 
 ment is dissatisfied, and the heart unin- 
 terested. I wish to be felt^ as well as 
 Jieard/' 
 
 These thoughts wholly engrossed our 
 Heroine, during the preparation for her ar- 
 duous undertaking. The tragedy of Romeo 
 and Juliet was now announced for the 
 Monda3^ " Juliet by a young lady, her 
 first attempt on any stage,^' for so Mary 
 wished it to be inserted in lieu of the usual 
 word appearance, JMr. P — - — , presented 
 her with a great many orders for her night ; 
 these, she was to give away, to those who 
 would make a party to support her ; accord- 
 ingly, she gave a number to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Howard, with whom she lodged, who pro 
 mised to circulate them among their friends. 
 She likewise gave several to Miss Thompson, 
 who, from being several seasons the prin- 
 cipal singer and comic actress, was a great 
 favourite, and had a very respectable and 
 extensive acquaintance.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 141 
 
 Mary how recollected the letter her good 
 friend Mr. Percy had entrusted with her to 
 deliver, it was directed " The Rev, Dr. 
 Emerson.'' " I will deliver this in the 
 evening. By the manner in wTiich I am re- 
 ceived, I may form some idea of the esti- 
 mation performers are held in, in this part 
 of the world. The consequence our profes- 
 sion, I see, attaches to itself, is illusive, and 
 consolatory only to its devotees. Its recep- 
 tion among the estimable part of the com- 
 munity, I have yet to learn. *' With this 
 impression she enquired for the Rev. 
 Doctor's residence, it was an elegant house 
 in one of the principal streets : being in- 
 formed the Doctor was at home, she sent 
 in her letter, and was shown into an elegant 
 parlour ; presently the servant entered with 
 his master's compliments, and would be 
 glad to speak to her, on which she was 
 introduced into the presence of this church- 
 dignitary and his family, which consisted of 
 himself, a son and daughter. 
 
 They all rose at her entrance : her easy 
 and unembarrassed air, equally removed 
 from bashful timidity and intrusive freedom, 
 proved her accustomed to genteel society, 
 and stamped at first sight a favourable im-.
 
 142 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 pression. Dr. Emerson, after taking her 
 band and leading her to the tea-table, thus 
 addressed her : 
 
 " You are Miss Irwin, the young lady, 
 whom my- friend Mr. Percy so warmly re- 
 commends in this letter. Nothing would be 
 more agreeable to me, than to oblige an old 
 college chum, for whom I entertain the 
 highest respect, and to serve one, whose 
 merits must be conspicuous, to deser\^e his 
 praise, and whose appearance evidently 
 bespeaks the respectability of her origin and 
 connexions ; but, persons in my sphere and 
 rank in life, are particularly tight-laced^ and 
 cannot mix, nor ostensibly countenance those 
 pleasures, which however innocent and 
 amusing, w^ould be unbecoming the neces- 
 sary gravity our station compels us to as- 
 sume. However, my son and daughter are 
 not so restricted, to w^hom give me leave 
 to introduce vou ; we have a numerous ac- 
 quaintance of the first rank and fashion in 
 the town and neighbourhood ; they will, no 
 doubt, condescend to befriend you, on our 
 recommendation." 
 
 Miss Ohvia Emerson, was a fashionable 
 and handsome brunette of twenty-three ; the 
 son, a dashing young officer about twenty-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 143 
 
 seven : both kept their eyes ri vetted on our 
 Heroine, during her short stay. On her re- 
 tiring, the Doctor enquired where she 
 lodged, then said, he would send for her 
 in a day or two. On this, she took her 
 leave, and departed home. 
 
 ^
 
 144 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 iVIary, for the first time, felt dissatisfied 
 with the reception she had met with at 
 Dr. Emerson^s. Her heart was disappointed ; 
 the pohteness she experienced, was to her 
 sensibility, blended, as she thought, with 
 unnecessary hauteur ; and the word conde- 
 scension^ so emphatically marked, little ac- 
 corded with the respect she coveted, and 
 the friendly cordiality she sighed for ; but 
 she was as yet a novice in the world, and 
 she had yet to learn, that form and eti- 
 quette govern half mankind, and stifle, if 
 not eradicate, the native disposition, and 
 amiable qualities of the mind. She plainly 
 perceived, that any attention which might 
 be paid to her, must spring not from her 
 own merit, or from a due appreciation of 
 talent, but from the ajfahiliti/ and conde- 
 scension of those, who thought proper here- 
 after to notice her. 
 
 " Heigho '/^ she cried, as she pondered 
 on the subject, " I can now never hope for
 
 THE PRESENT DAY* 145 
 
 intimacy and friendly intercourse with those 
 once my equals in society, the profession 
 I am engaged in will preclude it." Poor 
 girl! She did not consider her destitute 
 state of an orphan, and the reduction of her 
 circumstances, from visible affluence, to seek 
 subsistence by her talents, was of itself the 
 insuperable bar to such lofty expectations. 
 There must be an equality in circumstances^ 
 as well as disposition^ to constitute inti- 
 macy, 
 
 Friday and Saturday mornings were de- 
 voted to her public rehearsal ; her voice she 
 
 had regulated according to Mr. P — .^s 
 
 friendly suggestions, which greatly gratified 
 him. " Ay, now, my dear girl, you will 
 do ; I see it plainly. I have no fears what- 
 ever. On Saturday morning, don't exert 
 yourself, but attend to the business of the 
 scene alone, reserve your voice for the 
 night." 
 
 The lady, who was to perform the Nurse, 
 took no pains whatever to instruct her, but 
 whispered Miss Thompson, in Mary^s hear- 
 ing, '* Oh ! how divinely Mrs. Crawley 
 plays Juliet^ don^t you think so ?" 
 
 " Yes,'^ said Miss Thompson, " very 
 fair indeed." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " Fair" returned Mrs. Benson, " Oh! 
 transcendently excellent : I shall never see 
 her equal." 
 
 " Very polite, and very encouraging for 
 me,^' thought poor Mary. 
 
 Miss Thompson on seeing Mary home, 
 said, " did you overhear what Mrs. Benson 
 whispered me ?*' 
 
 " Yes,'^ said Mary, " but I thought no 
 more of it : it does not dishearten me." 
 
 " I am happy to hear it,'^ returned th^t 
 friendly girl : " she spoke purposely in your 
 hearing, to distress and mortify you. Mrs. 
 Crawley is a friend of her*s, and she is 
 frightened out of her senses, lest you should 
 echpse her favourite ; nothing else, believe 
 me. When I mentioned it was a prodigious 
 effort for a Jirst attempt, Mrs. Benson 
 
 smiled." 
 
 " First attempt !" she exclaimed. " Non- 
 sense ! Persuade me to that if you can ; 
 No, no ; I am too long in the profession to 
 beheve all I hear; no, no, this is not the 
 first nor tiientieth time she has trod the 
 boards. I have seen her somewhere before, 
 I am positive." Now this delighted me, 
 for it convinces me of her, apprehensions.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 14? 
 
 but, d piopos, did you observe Mrs. Craw- 
 ley behind the scenes this morning ?*' 
 
 " iVo/^ said Mary ; " was she present ?** 
 
 " Lord, my dear creature/' cried Miss 
 Thompson, " she could not keep away ; 
 she watched your every word and every 
 movement ; she will have sore lips for this 
 month to come. ^^ 
 
 " Is she in the habit of biting them }** 
 asked Mary. 
 
 *' Always, when she is vexed ; and she 
 Was in a precious humour this morning." 
 
 '' What has crossed her ?" 
 
 '' You^ my dear ; you, yow,'^ cried Miss 
 Thompson. 
 
 ^^ I ! Surely I cannot rouse her jea- 
 lousy !" said Mary. " I should be very 
 sorry to offend.** 
 
 " Jealousy! Oh «o, we have no such 
 gieen-eyed^ monster in our green-room, I 
 foresee you will both be on the most 
 friendly terms shortly ! Ha! ha!" 
 
 " I hope so," replied Mary ; " I wish 
 to be on friendly ternis with every one.*' 
 
 " Ah ! my dear creature !*^ returned the 
 sprightly girl, " you'll soon be convinced, 
 there is no such thing as erivi/^ jealousy^ r 
 
 H 9
 
 148 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 rivalship among actors and actresses. Such 
 passions may invade the repose of the 
 busy world, but in our little community, 
 all is harmony and disinterested friendship, 
 particularly at benefit times. Good day !^' 
 and the friends now separated. 
 
 Mary on entering her apartments, found 
 a note on her table, it was from Dr. Emer- 
 son ; she opened it and read as follows : 
 
 " Dr. Emerson presents his compli- 
 jnents to Miss Irwin, informs her, he has 
 takea two whole boxes for a large party, 
 who will attend to support her dehut^ at 
 his express request. The Countess Dela- 
 fort, with whom the Doctor has the honour 
 of being upon the most friendly terms, has 
 likewise signified her intention of being 
 present on that night, and has engaged the 
 right-hand stage-box for herself and suite ; 
 the Countess has expressed an anxiety for 
 Miss Irwin's success, as being the daughter 
 of a lady she once greatly esteemed. 
 j)j.. E- is happy to make this com- 
 munication, and hopes Miss Irwin will duly 
 appreciate her ladyship's condescension/* 
 
 This attentive and friendly note highly 
 gratified poor Mary, and cheered her spirits.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 149 
 
 not a little clamped by Mrs. Benson's be- 
 haviour at the morning's rehearsal. " My 
 mother's friend ! Blessed, sainted spirit 1" 
 she exclaimed, drawing forth her mother's 
 miniature, which she wore at her bosom, and 
 impressing the duteous kiss of filial rever- 
 ence on the portrait, " thou art ever near 
 me ! Even thy image smiles upon me with 
 benignant tenderness, and seems to say. 
 Til raise thee friends to shelter and protect 
 thee !" And she hastened down stairs, to 
 communicate the joyful tidings to Mrs. 
 Howard, who was delighted to hear it, and 
 assured her, the Countess was a lady of 
 immense property, universally beloved and 
 respected for her amiable qualities. " If 
 she once takes you by the hand. Miss 
 Irwin,'^ said the good woman, " your for- 
 tune is made : she is known at all the first 
 watering-places, Bath, Cheltenham, Brigh- 
 ton ; has a superb mansion in town, and 
 is all and every body in this neighbour- 
 hood for miles round. My Lord, indeed, is 
 proud and formal, of high notions, and not 
 near so condescending as her Ladyship. 
 They have only one child, a daughter. Lady 
 Lucy ; I don't know much of her, but I 
 fancy she resembles the old Lord her father.
 
 150 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 if report says true ; but if you have her 
 Ladyship for your friend, all will beright/^ 
 
 The remainder of the day she devoted 
 to selecting an appropriate dress, from the 
 rich variety the bounty of Mrs. Forester 
 Jiad supplied her with. She fixed on a white 
 satin of superb lustre, and a brilliant ap- 
 pliquetrimming tocorrespond ; theornaments 
 for the head were chosen with taste, and 
 in the highest style of fashion, necklace, 
 ear-rings, diamond cross, &c. ail to cause 
 that striking first impression her friend so 
 earnestly enforced ; and to honour by her 
 attention to minutice^ the high and distin- 
 giiished support she was likely to expe- 
 rience. 
 
 On the morning of her first appearance, 
 as she entered the green-room, she saw 
 Itfrs. Crawley; she pohtely bowed to her, 
 \vith a smile, but her salute was returned 
 with a frigid reserve; she ran over her 
 
 scenes in an under tone, as Mr. P r- 
 
 ha4 advised, and overheard Mrs. Crawley 
 \i?hisper the Manager, " Poor soul ! how 
 frightened she is ! She will never be heard 
 at night, I am really alarmed on her ac- 
 count/' 
 , To which the Manager drily replied,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. lil 
 
 " I perceive you are, Madam ; but pray 
 don't agitate your gentle feelings ; I dare say 
 she'll get through." 
 
 Mary, on her return home, took a slight 
 dinner, and had an early tea, that she 
 might go to the theatre betimes, dress 
 herself without flurry, and have leisure to 
 read over her part, and reconsider it atten- 
 tive! v. Mrs. Howard's maid took her trunk* 
 and was to wait upon her all that evening. 
 As they reached the house, they perceived 
 the pit and gallery doors thronged, though 
 it wanted half an hour of their being 
 opened. She was conducted to the dress- 
 ing room appointed for her, and there 
 fofund Miss Thompson ready to receive 
 her, who kindly took her hand, and said, 
 " You did very right, my dear, to come 
 early, that you may have time to compose 
 yourself: the Manager has very consi- 
 derately ordered, that we should dress in 
 the same room ; but as I do not go on till 
 the funeral scene, I am come thus soon, to 
 help to equip you, and render you every 
 little service in my power." 
 
 Mary returned her thanks, and began to 
 lay out her evening's habiliments : the rich- 
 ness, taste, and brilliancy displayed in every
 
 15S THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 article, filled Miss Thompson with astonish- 
 ment and delight. " I have seen many 
 elegant dresses,'* exclaimed the admir- 
 ing girl, " and have some very handsome of 
 my own ; but I never beheld any to be com- 
 pared to your's ; nothing the shadow of 
 them/' Mary assured her all her changes 
 were of equal value. " Bless me !" cried 
 Miss Thompson, " they must have cost 
 you an immense sum ; they are all ge^ 
 nuine, of intrinsic worth, and by far too 
 costly for the stage." Mary said, " they 
 were chosen and presented to her by a most 
 particular friend ; that she herself could not 
 have afforded such a rich variety as she 
 possessed," 
 
 " Such a dress," returned her friend, 
 " would carry the most inferior talents 
 through, with applause and approbation ; 
 how then will i/ou astonish, both the eyes 
 and ears of the audience." 
 
 Miss Thompson now with her own hands 
 assisted Mary to adjust her robes and or- 
 naments, and evinced great taste in the 
 manner of placing them. She applied tl>e 
 rouge, which our Heroine for the first time 
 in her hfe found it expedient to use. Mary 
 ?5aid, she had laid too much on; but that
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 163 
 
 attentive girl observed, the strong stage 
 lights rendered it indispensable, that the 
 most ruddy complexion looked wan by 
 night, unless aided by art. 
 
 Mary was at length completely attired. 
 She now moved with inimitable ease and 
 grace, so conspicuously was every thing 
 about her adapted to her figure and shape. 
 One might have thought she had all her life 
 been accustomed to elegance and splendour, 
 every turn, every action, appeared so per- 
 fectly free and unembarrassed. In a few 
 minutes she descended to the green-room. 
 
 On her entrance, the whole company 
 male and female were assembled. The 
 rich and tasteful brilliancy she now dis- 
 played, struck every beholder mute with 
 wonder and admiration. Every eye was 
 turned upon her, while she, wholly uncon- 
 scious of the astonishment she had created, 
 moved and spoke with the same unassuming 
 grace she always exhibited. 
 
 Mr. P now made his appearance ; 
 
 and as Mary turned round, he made a full 
 stop in the middle of the room, and after 
 taking an accurate survey, he exclaimed 
 aloud : " Well, 1 never, in all my life, no ^, 
 never, at no time, saw Juliet so well person.'- 
 
 H 5
 
 Ji4 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 aiedy a perfect houri, I declare, emanating 
 celestial radiance and sweets around ! Why, 
 I have got into Mahomet^s Paradise, I 
 believe ! Well, my dear, and how do you 
 fe^l ?'* 
 
 " Tolerably composed. Sir,'' answered 
 our Heroine. 
 
 The last music was now nearly ended, 
 and the performers were summoned to 
 their situations. The Manager now took 
 Mary by the hand, and led her to the wing ; 
 he there presented her with an orange, 
 which ' he recommended her to take to 
 clear her voice : she did so ; and she found 
 immediate refreshment, for her mouth felt 
 parqhed, iTom terror, which, spite of her 
 efforts to. the contrary, visibly assailed her. 
 The cit^ was at length given, and on she 
 
 advance^ I 
 
 The confused buzz and whispers in the 
 pit and boxes, wjiich ran round on her 
 entrance, added to the cry of l)own / 
 Down/ Silence/ Silence/ from the gal- 
 leries, with the glare of the foot-lights, 
 i^early overwhelmed her ; her head grew 
 giddy, and she was obliged to retreat a 
 little and catch the wing for support. Now 
 the whole house rung with -encouraging
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 1^-5 
 
 plaudits. She summoned all her energy, 
 and proceeded. The respectful attention paid 
 to her by every part of the house, espe- 
 cially the boxes; and the peals of appro- 
 bation she received, and which followed 
 almost every speech she uttered, proved 
 that her triumph was complete. 
 
 Miss Thompson, who had been all the 
 time in the front, now came round ; and 
 taking both her hands, kissed them, and 
 exclaimed, " Bravo ! my sweet girl. Never 
 have I witnessed such a victory over the 
 hearts and feelings of an audience before ; 
 the whole house is one unanimous burst of 
 applause ; and, I must say, it is no more 
 than a just tribute. Your style and mannev 
 so new^ and yet so natural^ demanded no 
 less an acknowledgment, which evinces at 
 once your powers, and their own judg- 
 ment.^' 
 
 Thus encouraged, in the concluditig 
 tomb-scene, Mary surpassed herself; and 
 as the curtain fell, three long and distinct 
 rounds of applause marked the high 
 enthusiasm her performance had created. 
 
 When the actor advanced to announce ar 
 play for the next night, the audience would^ 
 hear of none, but a repetition of Borneo and
 
 1^6 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Juliet^ on which he bowed, and presently re- 
 turned with notice, "that the Manager, in obe- 
 dience to the universal voice, would repeat 
 this tragedy on Thursday and Saturday 
 evenings next ; as he could not fatigue the 
 young lady, so young a candidate, with a 
 more immediate exertion/^ This thorough- 
 ly satisfied, and bravOy bravo ^ echoed through 
 the front. 
 
 Mr. P — 's countenance, always jolly, 
 
 looked uncommonly round ; he rubbed his 
 hands and chuckled with satisfaction : and 
 he insisted that Miss Irwin should go home 
 in a sedan-chair, lest she should take cold 
 after her exertion. Mary thought it prudent 
 to comply, and she returned home, before 
 the entertainment commenced. She found 
 her supper almost ready, and Mrs. Howard 
 home before her : who now reported the 
 praises that every where resounded in her 
 ears. Our Heroine now ate with a good ap- 
 petite, and retired early to rest : and recom- 
 mending herself to that Power, who had aided 
 her exertions, and crowned them with such 
 uncommon and distinguished success, she 
 sunk into a sound, calm, and uninterrupted 
 repose. 
 
 vShe awoke somewhat later than usual.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 16? 
 
 but as she had no business that required her 
 attendance at the theatre that day, it was of 
 no consequence. 
 
 While she sat at breakfast, Miss Thomp- 
 son came in ; having enquired how Mary 
 rested, and felt after her fatigue, *' But I 
 need not ask ; your looks show you are tho- 
 roughly refreshed : now, my dear Miss 
 Irwin," said she gravely, " I am astonished 
 you can sit so composed, after the dreadful 
 mischief jou have committed ?" 
 
 " How do you mean ?" cried Mary in 
 surprise. 
 
 " You have irrecoverably struck all our 
 beaux to the heart ; and drowned all our 
 belles in tears : but whether they flow from 
 the loss of their lovers, or from the effect of 
 your performance ; certain it is, there is not 
 a dry eye to be seen this morning." 
 
 " Go, you rattler," returned Mary. 
 
 ** Nay," answered her lively friend. 
 *' You have more to answer for : poor Mrs. 
 Crawley is seriously indisposed ; she can't 
 perform Angela to-night." 
 
 " Indeed ! I am sorry to hear that," said 
 Mary. " When was she taken ill ?" 
 
 " Last night, during your performance, I 
 sat next to her in the upper boxes : the heat
 
 158 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 of the house she complained, was insupport- 
 able ; and, notwithstanding the appUcation 
 of her smeUing-bottle, she retired visibly 
 affected in the middle of the fourth act : but 
 it could not be heat ; for the house, though 
 overflowed, is thoroughly ventilated, and the 
 evening was remarkably cool for the time of 
 year.^^ 
 
 " What then could be the cause ?" 
 
 " Your wicked actings my dear,'' re- 
 turned Miss Thompson. *' She could not 
 sit it out, and she is now in a high fever !^' 
 
 ** Bless me !" cried Mary, " you alarm 
 mer 
 
 " Nay, it is not dangerous ; 'tis only the 
 box-book fever, my dear." 
 
 '' Explain !"- " You must know then, 
 
 she sent about half an hour ago, to see if 
 any boxes were taken for to-night : not one 
 individual place! So, she sent the Manager 
 word she was too ill to perform ; and there 
 the matter rests : the play will be changed to 
 some opera, so I must be in readiness. I 
 am now going to the house, to know what 
 will be fixed on. You will drop in, I sup- 
 pose ?'^ 
 
 " Not this morning ; in the evening per- 
 haps," said Mary.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 1^9 
 
 " Well, good morning : on my life, I 
 should not be surprised if the Manager in- 
 sisted on Mrs. Crawley's appearing to-night ; 
 he is very whimmy, and very positive at 
 times, I assure you. If he thinks it a sub- 
 terfuge, he'll take no excuse : but we shall 
 see ;** and away Miss Thompson tripped. 
 
 Mary now took pen, ink, and paper, and 
 sat down to write Mrs. Forester an account 
 of her success : before she could sufficiently 
 
 collect her thoughts, she heard Mr. P -*s 
 
 foot upon the stairs. She immediately rose 
 to welcome him. 
 
 " Well, my dear, quite recovered I see ; 
 blooming and fresh as a rose, I declare ; let 
 Bae look at you ; that's right, always take the 
 rouge off the moment you have done play- 
 ing, never sleep with it on. I would not 
 have that beautiful, 7iatura I carmme of those 
 cheeks injured for the world. I am come to 
 tell you, . every body is in love with you ; 
 and I am half in love with you myself. I 
 have also a great favour to beg of you, 
 Miss." 
 
 " Call it not a favour. Sir," Mary re- 
 plied. *' Your wish must ever command my 
 compliance." 
 
 *' I have brought you the book of the
 
 160 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Castle Spectre, that you may read over the 
 character of Angela^ and study it at your 
 
 leisure : take it, my dear," said Mr. P , 
 
 " and get ready in it as soon as you can ; 
 but don't hurry yourself/' 
 
 " I am nearly half studied in it already, 
 Sir ; but is it not advertised for to-night ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; but we must, 1 fancy, 
 change the piece ; for Mrs. Crawley has sent 
 word, she can't play. You have given her 
 the jaundice^ I believe, by your success: I 
 am going to her to feel her pulse ; if it be an 
 excuse, I shall prescribe a remedy : she shall 
 find it folded up in her salary on Saturday. 
 She performs Angela no more in my com- 
 pany. She is too often troubled with the 
 box-book fever." 
 
 Mary took the book, and said she would 
 get ready in it as soon as possible. 
 
 *' Let me now know, what other cha- 
 racters you are already perfect in, Belvi- 
 dera .-?*' 
 /*V Yes, Sir." 
 
 *' Quite ready in it, my dear r" 
 
 *' Yes, Sir : and in Jane Shore^ Euphra- 
 sia^ and Mrs, Haller^ 
 
 " Mighty good: and Mrs. Beverley^ I 
 hope?"
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. I6l 
 
 •' Yes, Sir ; quite ready in all/* 
 
 *' Upon my word, I am quite surprised 
 and delighted : but what parts in genteel 
 comedy do you prefer ?*' 
 
 " Lady Townley^ Indiana^ Lady Teazle^ 
 Violante, I am almost perfect in them, 
 and a few rehearsals will be sufficient/^ 
 
 " You quite astonish me, I declare. Ah ! 
 you little rogue, you are better read than I 
 could have an idea of: but we must not 
 make you too cheap. I must treasure you 
 up, and bring you out as a star : for you 
 already eclipse all the satellites in my thea- 
 tric system : it is not only my opinion, but 
 the universal talk of the town. You engross 
 their whole conversation. See here, here 
 you are, at full length ; read, how the editor 
 
 has taken you to pieces. And Mr. P 
 
 now handed to her the criticism on her per- 
 formance in the town paper just published ; 
 he then shook her by the hand, and wished 
 her a good morning, saying : " I bought the 
 paper on purpose for you, that you may 
 transcribe the remarks, and transmit them to 
 your friends. ^^ 
 
 Mary when she was alone, read the grati- 
 fying report, which so highly extolled her : 
 she then threw the paper aside, and prepared
 
 16^ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 to dress. She had no sooner finished, than 
 a carriage drove up to the door, and a loud 
 knocking proclaimed the approach of some 
 visitors of consequence. 
 
 Mrs. Howard now ran up stairs in a 
 flurry to inform her, that Dr. Emerson and 
 his daughter enquired for Miss Irwin. She 
 immediately requested Mrs. Howard to 
 usher them up stairs : the creaking of the 
 Reverend Dignitary's shoes announced their 
 ascent ; and Mary received her visitants with 
 that becoming, graceful, and easy dignity so 
 peculiarly her own. 
 
 After the usual salutations, the Doctor 
 addressed her. He assured her, that he had 
 transgressed a rule he had laid down ; and 
 had, last night, himself^ witnessed a display 
 of splendid abilities, that made him not re- 
 gret the violation ; such uncommon talent, 
 joined to so fascinating a person, though ima- 
 gination might paint the semblance, he had 
 long despaired of ever seeing realised. It 
 remained for Miss Irwin to convince the 
 world, such combined excellence was not 
 ideal : that he was free to acknowledge, she 
 united all that could gratify and delight the 
 eye, and the understanding.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. \63 
 
 To this elaborate eulogium of the Doctor, 
 Mary bowed in grateful silence. 
 
 " I come, Miss Irwin, personally to pay 
 you this tribute," said the Doctor ; " and to 
 convince you of the high sense I entertain of 
 your acquirements, and the recommendation 
 you have so ably justified, that I shall esteem 
 it no reflection on my judgment and charac- 
 ter, in receiving your visits at my house ; 
 and my daughter is come to solicit your ac- 
 quaintance : and you must allow it a parti- 
 cular mark of attention in her, as she is pe- 
 culiarly select in her choice. Persons in 
 your profession, Miss Irwin, are not in ge- 
 neral eligible acquaintances for young ladies 
 of fortune and respectability : i/ou are, how- 
 ever, a most particular exception ; and we 
 hop^ to have the pleasure of seeing you 
 often, when we have a leisure evening, and 
 your business can spare you/' 
 
 Mary returned her acknowledgments for 
 the flattering distinction they had paid her ; 
 and said, she w^ould ever retain a due sense 
 of their condescension. 
 
 Miss Emerson now said, she would be 
 alone all the next Sunday evening, and she 
 would be happy if Miss Irwin would take
 
 164. THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 tea with her, and enjoy a few hours conver- 
 sation together. Our Heroine promised to 
 wait on her ; and the Doctor and his daugh- 
 ter took a ceremonious leave, and returned 
 to their carriage. 
 
 Mary now began to ruminate on what had 
 passed. " So, I think the Doctor has 
 pretty plainly insinuated, that actors and 
 actresses are not eligible acquaintance for 
 the genteeler circles of society ! This, I 
 find, is the current opinion, and why or 
 whence is this general sentiment } If the 
 profession be in itself so derogatory, why 
 is it so highly encouraged, and its professors 
 applauded? Or is it the conduct of per- 
 formers which stigmatizes the art ? that 1 
 cannot easily credit : from what I have seen 
 or heard, few people can be more correct in 
 their deportment, or more agreeable and in- 
 telligent in their manners. Time alone can 
 develope this strange mystery." 
 
 Finding no interruption hkely to divert 
 
 her attention, Mary sat down to write the 
 
 promised letter to her friend. 
 
 Mary to Mrs, Forester^ 
 
 Slope Lawn Cottage^ near . 
 
 '* My dearest Madam, 
 
 " Accuse not your Mary of ingra-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. l65 
 
 titude, in not writing immediately on her 
 safe arrival here ; but my time has been so 
 occupied in preparing for my entre into 
 public, that I was loth to take up the pen, 
 till I had something of moment to commu- 
 nicate. My journey was very agreeable, 
 though under many apprehensions from the 
 rapidity of our vehicle. The good Mrs. 
 Mildmay, considering me as under her 
 tutelage, would not suffer me to pay, but 
 franked me the whole way, and next morn- 
 ing proceeded onwards to her brother's. 
 Our Manager received me with a cordiality, 
 totally different from the ideas I had formed 
 in my mind of such a person : he is a comely, 
 good-looking old gentleman, plain in his 
 dress, polite, good-natured, yet somewhat 
 whimsical in his address. If he have some 
 oddities and prejudices, as I am informed, 
 they are, thank Heaven ! in my favour at 
 present, and not against me ; be it my study 
 to preserve this predilection. He is not ca- 
 pricious^ and that is a comfortable reflection. 
 ** You have no idea of the arduous and 
 awful undertaking of a first appearance, in 
 a candidate for public favour. All eyes and 
 ears ri vetted on you, and their decision 
 alone to stamp your future name, or consign
 
 166 THE ACTRESS 0¥ 
 
 it to oblivion. Though I struggled against 
 those terrors, as much as possible, they still 
 possessed me on my entrance ; the innu- 
 merable countenances before me, tier upon 
 tier rising to the cieling ; the general buzz, 
 and the dazzling lights, bewildered and dis- 
 mayed me. I shrunk appalled, and caught 
 the wing for support ; I should have fainted, 
 had not a few tears relieved me. The audience, 
 perceiving my situation, most kindly encou- 
 raged me ; this roused all my powers, and I 
 ventured to begin. 1 will not repeat the many 
 tokens I received of their entire approba- 
 tion ; it would appear egregious vanity, a 
 failing, I trust, you think me incapable of 
 harbouring ; suffice it to say, I have sue* 
 ceeded far beyond my most sanguine expec- 
 tations. I here enclose vou the criticism 
 in the following morning's paper ; viz. 
 
 *' Last night the tragedy of Romeo and 
 Juliet was performed at our theatre, for the 
 purpose of bringing forward a young lady in 
 her first attempt. Such an attempt we 
 never before beheld ; her modesty, we are 
 conscious, caused it thus to be inserted in 
 the bills ; but her performance throughout, 
 evinced intellectual conception of the high- 
 pf:.t order ! her voire mpjodions. rlpar -auc]
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 167 
 
 full ; her person approaching to the itia- 
 jestic, and of the most exquisite symmetry ; 
 her countenance irresistibly attractive and 
 pre-eminently beautiful, and through varied 
 succeeding emotions, the perfect index of 
 the brightest intelligence ! her action pecu- 
 liarly just, appropriate, and graceful ; she 
 looked^ she walked^ she tnoved^ a being of 
 superior endowment ! the whole personifi- 
 cation was a chef d* ceuvre of transcendent 
 abilities. This very young lady is, we hear, 
 an orphan daughter of a celebrated field- 
 officer, and was born to higher expectations ; 
 so family misfortunes alone, have afforded 
 us this exquisite^ intellectual treats 
 
 " Now, my dear Madam, what do you 
 think ? Is not this rather an oblique satire^ 
 than a just compliment? I humbly appre- 
 hend it is. If I even possessed those capa- 
 bilities at present, what could they say more 
 of me, after years of hard study and tried 
 experience. In my poor opinion, it will 
 prove more detrimental than beneficial to 
 my future exertions : it is beyond ridiculous, 
 though, clearly, the puff direct^ it^is really 
 hurtful; it leaves no room for farther enco- 
 mium, but must create a difference of opi-
 
 168 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 nion, and subject me to envious or maHg- 
 nant animadversion. Would it never had 
 been inserted ! Of this, I am persuaded, my 
 success has been more indebted to your 
 kindness, and the splendor of my dress, 
 than to any little merit which I may pos- 
 sess. 
 
 «' I waited on Dr. Emerson, with our 
 friend, the worthy Mr. Percy's letter in my 
 favour ; he received me very graciously. His 
 family consists of himself, a son and daugh- 
 ter. She is a fashionable young lady, a 
 brown beauty, a black intelligent eye ; but 
 I know little of her as yet. They are 
 persons of great consequence hereabouts. 
 I have received a formal invitation to visit 
 them occasionally, that is, when they expect 
 no other company, and this I must consider 
 as a flattering and peculiar mark of their 
 €07idescensio7i ; at least, they took care to 
 let me esteem it such. Dr. Emerson 
 himself, with his fanuly, and a large party, 
 were present at my dehut ; and waited on 
 me in their carriage next morning, and com- 
 plimented me most highly on my perform- 
 ance. There was a Countess Delafort and 
 her family likewise present ; she, the Doctor
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 169 
 
 informs me, was formerly a particular friend 
 of my dear mother. She is a lady of the 
 first fortune and distinction : but the honour 
 of her particular notice is perhaps too great 
 for an actress to expect. You see, Madam, 
 I have brought my ideas down already to the 
 level of my profession. Present my duteous 
 regards to Mr. Percy. You and he are ever 
 uppermost in my thoughts : you will please 
 to inform me, how our family matters go on ; 
 and if you see my aunt and sister, present 
 my duty, and my love. 
 
 " I am, ever your most grateful, 
 
 " Mary Irwin.*'
 
 i70 lilK ACTRESS or 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 \J^ the following Sunday, Mary, accord- 
 ing to promise, waited on Miss Emerson, 
 w^ho received hei" with a frankness, which 
 somewhat surprised her. She was alone in 
 an elegant dishabille. " My dear Miss Ir- 
 win, I am glad you are come : I have been 
 expecting you these two hours." 
 
 *' 1 thought I had b^en full early; it is 
 but half past six," said Mary. " I was ap- 
 prehensive of trespassing on your dinner^ 
 hour/' 
 
 " Oh no !" returned she, with a stretch 
 and a yawn. "When alone, as is the case 
 this whole day, I always dine at four. But 
 I am happy to see you : here have I been 
 moped by myself, till I am positively de- 
 voured with ennui: pray. Miss Irwin, what 
 is good for ejinui P Are you ever tormented 
 with ennui .^" 
 
 " No, Madam," replied our Heroine, 
 " I am never afflicted with that ideal ma- 
 lady.^*
 
 TUliL PRESENT DAY. 171 
 
 *' How do you contrive to keep it off?" 
 said Miss Emerson. 
 
 " By some useful employment : by read- 
 ing, studying, preparing for my business ; 
 and, occasionally, a little needle-work ; a^d 
 a solitary country walk, for exercise and 
 health's sake/' 
 
 " Good lack !" rephed Miss Emerson. 
 " You astonish me ! I never read ; study I 
 detest ; business I have no occasion for ; and 
 needle-work is so sempstress-Yike : and as to 
 walking, unless on the public promenade, 
 surrounded by some smart beaux, it is a 
 practice not to be endured, when one keeps 
 a carriage. Now, pray, my dear, do con- 
 trive some method to amuse me!" 
 
 Mary was quite vexed at this rude re- 
 quest, and was silent. 
 
 " 1 am informed," said this fine lady, 
 *' that the players are the most amusing 
 people in the world : so full of witty anec- 
 dote, and double entendre : it is quite a treat 
 to be in their company." 
 
 " I believe, Madam," Mary gravely re- 
 phed, " that you have been misinformed in 
 that particular : their conversation is by no 
 means seasoned with levity; they are in 
 every respect, like other rational and intelli- 
 
 I 2
 
 17'2 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 gent beings: serious, and lively as occasion 
 suits, but always consistent and observant of 
 propriety.'^ 
 
 " Dear! how strange!" returned Miss 
 Emerson : " the actresses surely are fond of 
 admiration ?" 
 
 " In a professional point of view only do 
 they seek distinction : in private life, they 
 are particularly circumspect, for it is their 
 interest to be so : indeed. Miss Emerson, 
 they are cruelly aspersed, if such is the ge- 
 neral opinion." 
 
 " Well," exclaimed the Doctor's daugh- 
 ter, " you surprise me : for my part, I should 
 think life very insipid without a Wttlejlirta- 
 tion. Dear ! I wish my brother and " Sir 
 George Dashington would drop in, I should 
 be cured of ^wjiwnm mediately, Enire nous; 
 my brother is vastly taken with you : nay, 
 don't be alarmed : it is nothing more than 
 common. She must be very plain indeed, 
 who does not attract his attention : he is a 
 general admirer of the sex : so, I put you 
 on your guard, not to believe a word of his 
 serious protestations." 
 
 " I hope, Madam,'^ said Mary, '* to es- 
 cape his notice, and to give him no oppor- 
 tunity, 
 
 yy
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. IJ^i 
 
 '• La ! child !*' cried Olivia Emerson, 
 *' how can you possibly avoid him ? He 
 is the most persevering, teazing creature in 
 existence." 
 
 '' By intruding as seldom as possible, 
 where there is a likelihood of meeting him:" 
 and Mary rose from her chair. 
 
 *' Nay, my dear girl," returned the lady, 
 *' don't be alarmed : surely I donH frighten 
 you away ? You are like the little timid 
 hare, that starts at the slightest motion, and 
 runs from mere apprehension ; yet, with all 
 her caution, her doublings and windings, she 
 is caught at last. 
 
 Mary, unwilling to offend, reseated her- 
 self; but secretly wished the evening visit 
 was concluded. Miss Emerson perceiving 
 her uneasiness, began to rally her. 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Irwin, you seem to take 
 what I have said too seriously. Your ideas, 
 my dear, are absolutely rusticate, I must 
 entreat you to attend to my instructions a 
 little : behave to those teazing wretches, the 
 men, as I do. I treat them as they deserve ; 
 I am all life and spirits in their society. I 
 laugh at, and ralli/ them in turn : if they 
 are serious and grave, I look dismal, and 
 then laugh aloud : if they are in high spi-
 
 174 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 rits, and full of gallantry^ I laugh still at 
 them egregious Ij/ ; and then, with a ^ra re 
 face, curtsey ; and thank them for curtng me 
 of the spleen. This disconcerts them ; and 
 they turn on their heel, muttering, ' Pro- 
 voking Devil P as they leave me/^ 
 
 " This method may suit well a lady of 
 your rank and habits in life : but in me, it 
 would appear presumptuous vanity^ or some- 
 thing worse : the situation I fill, is critical 
 and delicate^ and requires much circum- 
 spection to avoid censure. Persons of con- 
 dition may say and do many things, and be 
 admired, for what those in an inferior sta- 
 tion would be loudly condemned. That, 
 Miss Emerson, you must allow, to be a 
 weighty consideration.^' 
 
 " Very true ; your ideas, my dear, are per^ 
 fectly correct ; though you are professionally 
 compelled. to assume sometimes even the 
 garb and tone of royalty, and dames of qua- 
 lity ; it would be contemptible to bring the 
 stage into private hfe, and ape the manners 
 and conversation of women of fashion : I 
 forgot your present situation.*' 
 
 '* But I must not., INIiss Emerson ; I have 
 a character to preserve, and must not lose 
 it : and the imitation of the manners and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 173 
 
 conversation of fashionable women, would, 
 from what I behold, be subversive of my 
 fondest hopes/* Mary spoke this with 
 pointed significance : though the effect was 
 lost, as appeared by the lady's reply. 
 
 " Characters ! Oh, yes ! doubtless, you 
 have many characters to support. What 
 character do you next appear in } I am sick 
 of Juliet ; though you play it divinely : but 
 she is such a love-sick, silly fool, I have no 
 patience with her : no such character in high 
 life now, be assured." 
 
 " I fancy not ; but either Jane SJiore^ or 
 Mrs, Haller will be my next attempt : these, 
 I believe, are more applicable and conge- 
 nial to the present taste. ^^ This last point 
 was equally unheeded as the foregoing by 
 Miss Olivia Emerson. 
 
 '^ What a soul of apathy does this young 
 lady possess f* thought poor Mary ; but 
 she was not so insensible as our Heroine 
 supposed. She was feehngly ahve to flat- 
 tery and admiration, and jealous to an ex- 
 treme, if the attention of the men was di- 
 rected elsewhere in her presence. 
 
 Just as the tea-equipage was brought in, 
 the bell at the gate rung ; and presently in
 
 176 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 came Captain Emerson, the brother, ac- 
 companied by Sir George Dashington, 
 baronet : a gentleman of honour and high es- 
 timation in the circles of haut-ton, 
 
 Mary rose at their entrance, and would 
 haye retired ; but the Captain politely took 
 her hand, and requested her to remain ; say- 
 ing, " Do not let us, by our presence, de- 
 prive my sister of your invaluable society : 
 ice will rather retire, than intrude one mo- 
 ment, if disagreeable/^ 
 
 " No, no ; stay where you are, I insist :" 
 cried the sister. " You are both come in time, 
 to save us from the most desultory conversa- 
 tion. I requested Miss Irwin's company 
 this evening, as I was alone, thinking her 
 brilliant conversation and lively sallies would 
 dissipate the tedium of a vacant hour : but 
 she is quite sombre^ I vow." 
 
 "■Ladies, my dear Olivia/' returned the 
 brother, "of exalted intellect and refined 
 endowment, cannot descend to the frivoli- 
 ties that please a vacant mind. I would 
 advise you to take pattern by Miss Irwin, 
 and grow more serious." 
 
 " So, you would advise me, Sir, I sup- 
 pose," returned Olivia, " to follow her ex-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 177 
 
 ample ; and go upon the stage, and make a 
 fool of myself : your most obedient, my sweet 
 brother. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " No, my sweet sister," cried the Cap- 
 tain. "I am not so much your enemy ^s 
 that : I should tremble to see you make 
 yourself so very ridiculous : nor would I 
 have you undergo the dreadful mortification 
 you would certainly experience : but surely 
 the conversation of so intelligent a lady as 
 Miss Irwin, must prove both interesting and 
 entertaining ; though it be not seasoned with 
 2LJest^ nor tainted with levity,^' 
 
 Mary bowed to the compliment, and felt 
 her chjeeks glow ; for Sir George had fixed 
 his penetrating eyes upon her, which made 
 her uneasy : there was a boldness in them, 
 she by no means approved ; and she drew 
 her black veil more forward to conceal her 
 emotion. Miss Emerson, observing Sir 
 George's abstraction, as he carried the tea- 
 cup to his lips, gently tapped him on the 
 shoulder : down went the cup and saucer ! 
 
 " Why you awkward wretch !" exclaim- 
 ed Miss Emerson, '' What are you think- 
 ing of?" 
 
 " Heaven !" exclaimed Sir George, still 
 gazing on Mary. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " We are just returned from church" 
 said the Captain, willing to divert their at- 
 tention, " and Sir George has not forgot the 
 text/' 
 
 " And what was it, pray ?" asked Miss 
 Olivia. 
 
 " Upon my word, sister, I have forgot : 
 but Sir George can inform you/^ 
 
 " Come, Sir George,'* cried the sister, 
 *' turn this way, and let me hear/' 
 
 *' Upon my honour, I — I don^t recollect : 
 it was — " 
 
 " I have it," cried the Captain slili/, 
 " To be carnally minded is deaih ; but to 
 be heavenly vamdtd^ is — " 
 
 " Spiritually minded^ is life; and — ay, 
 that's it, Captain," said Sir George, laughing: 
 " it was a most excellent sermon, and the 
 heavenly prospect is still before me:" and 
 Sir George bowed to both the ladies. 
 
 '' Upon my honour. Sir George,^' cried 
 the Doctor's daughter quite pleased, " I 
 don't know whether you are more devout, or 
 gallant.^' 
 
 *' How can any man in his senses he 
 otherwise," returned the Baronet, " whtii 
 such objects of adoration are before him :
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 179 
 
 but now we talk of adoration, have you heard 
 the news, Miss Emerson ?'^ 
 
 " What is it ? Something of conse- 
 quence ?** said Olivia. 
 
 " How can it be otherwise, when the 
 Honourable Mr. Neville is the subject ? You 
 all know how he adores — ^' 
 
 " Himself" cried Captain Emerson; " and 
 nothing but his own sweet person engages 
 his attention ; he is a perfect Narcissus, for 
 ever surveying his delectable physiognomy. 
 But let's hear: I have not seen him this 
 fortnight.'* 
 
 " That^s it : nor you won't perhaps for 
 another fortnight to come : you must know he 
 has been unavoidably exposed on horseback to 
 the heat of the sun, and consequently unu- 
 sually burnt. I complimented him on the 
 manliness of his complexion, but he took it 
 quite in dudgeon : so he sent to town for 
 some Olympian Dew ; but the rogue of a 
 perfumer sent him by mistake, some other 
 powerful cosmetic ; which has brought out 
 such a rash, that he is almost gone dis- 
 tracted: it has caused an insupportable icho- 
 rous sensation, that his hands are obliged to 
 be confined : he is in a strait-waistcoat. I 
 hear, he is hke a raving maniac, so that Lord
 
 1^80 .THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Deiafort, his guardian, they say, has sent ex- 
 press for Dr. Simmons !" 
 
 - " Sad misfortune indeed!" cried Ohvia 
 laughing: " how can the world endure the 
 seclusion , of such a charming young man ! 
 You frequently pay your respects to that 
 noble family, I am informed, Sir George." 
 
 " Umph ! only occasionally ; the old lord 
 js so stiff and formal." 
 
 - v But Lady Lucy^ I believe, Sir George," 
 returned Olivia reddening, " is rather more 
 condescending : report says, you pay' your 
 court there/' 
 
 " Common report is a -common liar. 
 Every man, who speaks a civil word, and 
 passes a compliment, is not in love : and 
 how must I wrong my judgment, when there 
 is metal more attractive /zcr^ ;" and Sir 
 George took Miss Olivia's hand, which he 
 respectfully saluted. 
 
 ''\ Come, Sir George, no nonsense. Oli- 
 via knows she is not so attractive as Ladv 
 Lucy, by a hundred thousand pounds at 
 least." 
 
 *' JVell, I declare ; I don't think," said 
 the sister, bridling up, and reddening at her 
 brother's interruption, "that , Sir George, 
 with all his own faults, i^ merccnanj"
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 181 
 
 '• The, least so of any man living., believe 
 me/' said the Baronet. 
 
 " But pray, what does the Countess think 
 of her hopeful nephew Neville ?" asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " The Countess is one of the best, as she 
 is one of the most sensible women in the 
 kingdom ; she is quite vexed at Neville's 
 making himself the laughing-stock of all 
 who know him : he really grows more ridi- 
 culous every day." 
 
 " 'Tis a great pity such a fool should pos- 
 sess so large a fortune," said Emerson. 
 
 " He would be insufferable, but for tliat^^ 
 answered Sir George. " We shall always, 
 for reasons, tolerate fools of fortune : he 
 will soon be of age. But the Countess, 
 Miss IrAvin, has been so fascinated by your 
 Juliet, that she has never missed a night; 
 nor have I, nor Captain Emerson, I assure 
 you." 
 
 '' You do me particular honour," returned 
 Mary. 
 
 " Did not you see us there r" asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " No, Sir, 1 really did not." 
 '* Is it possible ?" said Sir George. ''- We 
 sat in the stage-box.'^
 
 182 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 *' My thoughts," said Mary, "were other- 
 wise engaged/' 
 
 " The Countess Delafort," said Miss 
 Emerson, " was formerly acquainted with 
 Miss Irwin^s mother* 1 hope she will take 
 some particular notice of the daughter : her 
 patronage would be every thing." 
 
 " There is no doubt but she will. She 
 has, more than once, mentioned the young 
 lady in the highest terms, in my presence :" 
 said the Baronet; " and now I have the 
 pleasure of being in her company, I shall 
 mention the circumstance ; and see what it 
 will produce.""' 
 
 Mary bowed ; and now rose to leave Miss 
 Emerson. The gentlemen both offered their 
 services to see her home : each contended 
 for the honour ; the Captain insisted it was 
 his exclusive right, as being a visitor to his 
 sister : the Baronet argued the point ; and it 
 was at length agreed, that both should squire 
 her to her lodgings. 
 
 Miss Emerson took her hand at parting ;. 
 and, in the most friendly manner, hoped, that,, 
 as she was now no stranger, she would 
 make free, as the Doctor and she would be 
 always happy to receive her. 
 
 Mary thanked her, said she would cer-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 183 
 
 tainly avail herself of every opportunity to 
 pay her respects : and she quitted the Doc- 
 tor's house, escorted by Captain Emerson 
 and the Baronet. 
 
 They chatted indifferently on the way, 
 and when they saw her to the door, took a 
 polite leave, and departed. Mary retired to 
 her apartment ; not thoroughly satisfied with 
 the visit she had made. 
 
 The next characters Mary appeared in, 
 were 3Irs, Haller, and Jane Shore, and 
 each added increased celebrity. Her re- 
 putation was now fully established, from 
 which neither envy nor criticism could 
 detract. In tragedy, she had no competitor ; 
 for though Mrs. Crawley was allowed to 
 be a sound speaker, she had none of those 
 inimitable touches of nature, which seize 
 on the heart, and lead captive the admir- 
 ing senses. It was now her turn to show 
 the versatiliti/ of her genius ; and Lady 
 Townley was fixed on for that display. It 
 was here she evinced a perfect knowledge of 
 high life, and polished society ; the grace- 
 ful ease, yet dignified deportment she pour- 
 tray ed, proved her the finished woman of 
 fashion, and the concluding scenes showed 
 her sensibility and power over the affections.
 
 184 . THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 One morning, having occasion to call at 
 Mrs. Corselett's, the milhner, to make a 
 purchase, her shop being a fashionable 
 lounge, as she was selecting a couple of 
 pairs of kid gloves, a groupe of elegantes 
 entered, escorted by some gentlemen of ton, 
 Mary, finding it impossible to make her re- 
 treat without caUing the attention of the 
 fashionable party, and having all their glasses 
 levelled at her without mercv, remained 
 where she was, and sat in a retired part, 
 with her face as much as possible averted, 
 to avoid their gaze; but with all her care, 
 she could not entirely escape their notice. 
 
 There were three ladies, and two gentle- 
 men who chiefly engrossed the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 The eldest was an elegant woman of 
 forty-five ; the effulgence of the charms of 
 her early days was fled, yet the sweetness of 
 her aspect amply compensated for the 
 absence of her youthful animation, and the 
 softness of her eyes well atoned for the 
 loss of their sportive brilliancy. The 
 second lady was tall and meagre, with a 
 sallow complexion ; the coarseness of whose 
 voice, and frigid pride conspicuous in each 
 movement, contrasted oreatly with her
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 185 
 
 amiable companion. The third, was a 
 young lady of a petite figure, with a flat un- 
 meaning countenance, adorned with a pair 
 of small sharp grey eyes, wherein the love 
 of mischief seemed maliciously to peep. 
 The first gentleman, was a military officer 
 of rank, by his two epaulets; a handsome 
 well made man about thirty-four. The 
 other was a most consummate coxcomb in 
 his dress and manners ; his complexion 
 very pale and dehcate, his bright red hair 
 was curled in perfect taste, and his whole 
 dress the highly finiished criterion of fa- 
 shionable folly ; his breast was adorned with 
 a delicate nosegay, which, joined to the 
 other perfumes that exhaled from his head 
 and handkerchief, made the pretty gentle- 
 man the very centre of all sweets ; he was 
 very busy in choosiijg a match of ribbons 
 for one of the ladies, and very anxiously 
 recommended a new invented work-box. 
 needle-case, thread-papers, &c. 
 
 " Where have you been these hundred 
 years .^^' asked the tall lady. " I thought 
 you had been dead and buried ; 1 have not 
 set eves on vour delectable honourable' 
 ship for nearly a month : what misfortune 
 has deprived the world of your presence ?"
 
 186 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " The most untoward misfortune in 
 nature/^ returned the .httle gentleman. " I 
 shall certainly put Bayley and Blew to 
 death, the first time I pass through Cock- 
 spur-street. I am obliged to use cream of 
 violets to my face six times a day ; is not 
 my skin a horrid spectacle ?^' 
 
 " It looks somewhat tender," replied the 
 lady. 
 
 " I shall never get rid of this detestable 
 redness. I am ashamed to be seen in the 
 street.^' 
 
 " You have lost a great treat of Jate/^ 
 said the tall lady. 
 
 ^' As how, pray ?" returned he. 
 
 " You have not been at our theatre, 
 since the appearance of the new Star in the 
 East ; but, like our other icise men, will go 
 soon, and worship her." 
 
 " Is she the fashion ^^^ asked the pretty 
 beau. 
 
 Oh ! all the rage, I assure you." 
 Then it would be unpardonable to be 
 
 3J 
 
 missmg. 
 
 " Is she pretty ?" asked he. 
 
 " Oh ! all actresses are angels when 
 dressed out ;" cried the httle youngest lady. 
 " I dare say, she is plain and homely
 
 THE PllESENT DAY. 187 
 
 enough, if one could see her off the stage ; 
 but there is such a work made about her, 
 I have no patience. Sir George Dash- 
 ington bores us about her beauty conr 
 tinually.'^ 
 
 " You have seen her, Colonel/^ said 
 the tall lady ; " and now what is your real 
 opinion ?*' 
 
 '' I should wrong my judgment, Madam,^' 
 answered the officer, " if I did not pro- 
 nounce her one of the most charming and 
 interesting women I ever beheld/* 
 
 " You have seen her only by candle^ 
 lights and made up^ in all points,^' said 
 the little lady ; " therefore, Colonel, your 
 assertion is rather a bold one.^^ 
 
 " That form, and features so strikingly 
 harmonious, no candle-light can embellish; 
 the day, if her complexion be real^ must 
 add to, and not diminish her attractions/* 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 " Paint! my dear Colonel,** said the 
 sallow lady ; " nothing else, believe me.'* 
 
 " I wonder,'* said the youngest lady, 
 " how these actresses can afford to use the 
 best Italian rouge ^ it is so provokingly 
 dear.** 
 
 *' Dear Lady Lucy,** returned the tall
 
 188 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 sallow lady, *' can you for a moment si>p- 
 pose the creatures so wilfully extravagant ? 
 No, no, believe me, vermillion is in 
 general use ; carmine applied only on par- 
 ticular nights, to honour a bespeak, I never 
 go to a theatre, but on such occasions/^ 
 
 " Nor /," said the little Lady Lucy ; 
 *' but my lady mother here will force me, 
 for she says, it is the most rational amuse- 
 ment of any ; so I must bow and acquiesce 
 in her opinion, you know, though I can- 
 didly confess, I generally come away just 
 as wise as I went/^ 
 
 " That is owing to your insensibility," 
 said the amiable lady. "If you paid a 
 proper attention to the passing scenes, you 
 would derive, Lady Lucy, both instruction 
 and entertainment." 
 
 " Your most obedient," cried Lady 
 Lucy; " so you would have me go to a 
 play to attend to what's passing on the 
 stage, and so reap improvement; what an- 
 tediluvian ideas ! No, when I *am there, 
 my thoughts are otherwise engaged.' I take 
 a survey of the dress-boxes, and nod and 
 chat to our fashionable friends ; that is suffi- 
 cient employment for me : for really if any 
 body asked me, on being handed to our
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 189 
 
 carriage, I positively must look at the bill, 
 in order to recollect what pieces were per- 
 formed." 
 
 " I think,'* said the eldest lady gravely, 
 " it is impossible, for the most insensible 
 to be inattentive, when Miss Irwin per- 
 forms ; what say you^ Colonel Jameson ?" 
 
 " I am decidedly of your opinion, Lady 
 Delafort," replied the Colonel. 
 
 Mary had drawn her veil close over her 
 face, to conceal herself from observation, 
 while this conversation passed. 
 
 " How comes it, Lady Lucy,'^ said the 
 Colonel " that, I have heard you loud 
 in your applause; and if I mistake not, 
 you have broke two costly fans already 
 in expressing your approbation, whenever 
 that young lady enters, or leaves the 
 stage/^ 
 
 '* Have I P'^ exclaimed her little lady- 
 ship : " ^tis very possible ; but why, 1 can't 
 say ; I suppose I followed the general opi- 
 nion ; not that I ever know, who is ow, or 
 who is off. But I think we had better 
 leave off such vulgar tokens of admiration : 
 it must make the girl insufferably vain.*' 
 
 " When docs this star^ as you call her,
 
 190 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 shine again/* asked the honourable little 
 fop. 
 
 " I really don't know, Sir/' said Mrs. 
 Corselett, the milliner ; " but Til ask. 
 Pray, Miss Irwin,"' said she, addressing our 
 Heroine, " when is your next appearance, 
 and in what character ?'' 
 
 Poor Mary wished the milliner far enough 
 for mentioning her name ; and herself any 
 where, but where she was ; and she re- 
 plied in alow tone, ''^ next Saturday; in 
 Lady Townley ; the third time.'' 
 
 Mrs. Corselett informed the party, and 
 looking significantly, drew the fashionable 
 gaze on the distressed Mary, who now rose 
 in confusion, and paying for the gloves, 
 would have retired, but she found it im- 
 possible, without pressing rudely by. She . 
 was therefore constrained to remain much 
 against her inclination. 
 
 " So, next Saturday ; Lady Townley ! 
 I would not miss it for the universe,'* cried 
 the honourable little gentleman. " I shall 
 then behold the bright luminary you talk 
 so much of, shine in her native lustre.'* 
 
 '' Borrowed, you mean," said Lady Lucy: 
 ** you will see nothing reaL Artificial light
 
 THE PRESENT DAY, 191 
 
 ever for the theatre : it will not bear the test 
 of day." 
 
 " I don't know that," answered he, 
 taking up his glass and eyeing Mary with 
 impertinent rudeness; " I don't know that. 
 I wish that black cloud was removed, that 
 obscures the radiance so much boasted of.'^ 
 
 " Don't you know, Neville,^* said the tall 
 lady, " stars are seldom visible by day\ 
 they only shine at night ; and actresses 
 know well, that most of them will not bear 
 day-inspection ;, so when they do make an 
 appearance at those times, it is generally 
 clouded weather with them. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " Weil then," returned the Honourable 
 ]Nir. Neville, " borrowed, or clouded or 
 not; from what little appears, I am inclined 
 to name her Venus^ the brightest of our 
 planetary orbs,^' And he still kept staring 
 at her with his quizzing-glass. 
 
 " Come, come," said the Countess Dela- 
 fort, '• you are really unpardonable, Mr. 
 Neville ; conduct Lady Lucy to our car- 
 riage, and Colonel Jameson will escort our 
 friend Mrs. Mai low. We have loitered a 
 strange time ; Til follow you. Why don^t 
 you do as I order you, nephew ?" 
 
 " lam all obedience/' cried the honourable
 
 192 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 beau ; " Venus behind a cloud, positively ;" 
 and he took Lady Lucy^s hand. 
 
 " Have a care of your heart, Neville V* 
 cried the Colonel. 
 
 " His heart V exclaimed Lady Lucy : 
 " no great danger of that ; there is but one 
 being on earth William Neville admires, 
 and that is, himself,** 
 
 " Go, you are a fool, coz, positively.*' 
 
 " I know tvho is," said her little lady- 
 ship laughing, as they moved to the shop- 
 door. 
 
 " ril attend you presently," said the 
 Countess: then approaching our Heroine, 
 vt^ho immediately arose and threw back her 
 veil, « as her Ladyship advanced to her. 
 *' Your name is Irwin, I find ?" 
 
 Mary bowed in the affirmative. 
 
 " Your mother's maiden name was Sey- 
 mour ?" 
 
 " It was, Madam." 
 
 " Is it possible r'^ exclaimed her Lady- 
 ship. " Do I see the daughter of my friend 
 an actress ! how comes this ? How can 
 Mrs. Irwin, one of the most intelligent, 
 discreet, and accomplished women I ever 
 knew, suffer her child to be thus cruelly 
 exposed?" And she fixed her mild eyes
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 195 
 
 mi Mary, with an enquiring^ yet pensive 
 concern. 
 
 The warm tears gushed from the poor 
 girrs over-charged heart and eyes, and her 
 voice refused obedience to the wish of satis- 
 fy' ing the Countesses question. At length, 
 recovering herself a httle, she briefly in- 
 formed lier Ladyship, that her mother died 
 about tour years since, but that she had very 
 recently and suddenly lost her father, for 
 whose death she now mourned. 
 
 The Count^s, with benignant sympathy, 
 replied : ''I am sorry, most truly soxvy^ 
 for the double calamity that has befallen 
 you, and to this alone do I attribute seeing 
 j'^ou in a public capacity. I sincerely la- 
 ment your mother's death, but, I assure you, 
 I knew not of it ; or, far be it from me, to 
 wound your feelings by recalling sorrows 
 past all remed}-. I have been some years 
 resident abroad, and am returned to £ncr- 
 land within these three months ; here is ray 
 card. Delafort Castle is but four miles 
 distant from this town, where I siiall be 
 happy to see you. If you inherit the ad- 
 mirable qualities, the domestic virtues of 
 your excellent mother, you will amply jus- 
 tify that countenance, it is my intention to 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 confer on the daughter of my earhest friend . 
 Your pubhc career has met our warmest 
 approbation ; let your private conduct emu- 
 late that, and lasting respect and esteem 
 must accompany you through life. AYhere 
 do you reside ?" 
 
 " At Mrs. Howard's, Madam/' returned 
 Mary, " in the High-street." 
 
 " I know the house," said the Countess. 
 *' I shall send my carriage, early on Wednes- 
 day morning ; you shall spend the day with 
 me ; I shall have no company, but our own 
 family ; you can then more fully explain 
 your present situation, and your future 
 views. Farewell for the present.'^ And 
 the Countess kindly pressed her hand at 
 parting. 
 
 This conversation with Mary passed in an 
 under voice, but it caught the attention of 
 all present, and particularly the milliner, 
 Vi'ho most obsequiously bowed to her, as 
 she was leaving the shop, as now did every 
 lady and gentleman, who witnessed the 
 Countess's marked condescension to our 
 Heroine. 
 
 Mary was now tripping it homeward, 
 %vith a light heart, highly pleased with the 
 flattering attention paid to her ; an animated
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 19^ 
 
 glow of satisfaction suffused her cheeks, and 
 sparkled in her expressive eyes. The street 
 was crowded, and a string of officers made 
 way as she quickly passed them. 
 
 *' That's she r cried one of them. 
 
 *' No,'* returned another ; " you may rely 
 on't you are mistaken ; consider, you saw 
 her by candle-light'^ 
 
 "- I'll swear to the features and figure," 
 said the first. 
 
 '' If it is she,'' replied the second, '« she 
 has laid it on very thickly." 
 
 " She is 7iot painted," the former officer 
 maintained. 
 
 " rU bet you a hundred guineas to ten, of 
 that," exclaimed a third. 
 
 " And ril go yourhalves,'' cried a fourth: 
 " she is painted by Heaven'' 
 
 ""' Done, done," and they all turned and 
 followed her. Mary redoubled her steps, 
 but they soon overtook her. 
 
 " Now for the proof," said the fourth 
 officer. " Your handkerchief. Ma'am," and 
 he offered his own cambric one. 
 
 " It is not mine. Sir," returned Mary, 
 deeply colouring. 
 
 " There/" cried the first officer, " IVe 
 icon : she is not painted.'* 
 k2
 
 196 THE ACTRESS OP 
 
 " Well,*' exclaimed the third, " I've lost 
 the bet, I own/' 
 
 " And /have won too/* said the fourth. 
 
 " How can that be ? For youVe gone 
 halves with me,*' exclaimed the third, " for 
 you swore by Heaven, she was painted. 
 You have lost^ Major/' 
 
 '* I deny it ; for she is painted, by nature^ 
 by the hand of Heaven; can you deny 
 that .'^*' said the Major. " No art is there, 
 believe me." 
 
 " I don't know what apology we can 
 make to the lady for our impertinent and 
 rude intrusion,'* said the first olficer. " You 
 must excuse my companions, Madam ; but 
 abet was depending : and so " 
 
 " You are perfectly satisfied, gentlemen, 
 I hope /* replied Mary, turning round with 
 a good-humoured smile. 
 
 " Perfectly so; Madam," . rephed the 
 Major. " We beg a million of pardons, and 
 wish you a good morning." 
 
 The officers bowed and proceeded : and 
 Mary reached her lodgings without further 
 molestation.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 197 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A. LETTER from Mrs. Forester met her 
 eye, as soon as she entered the apartment. 
 She broke the seal ; kissed the well-known 
 hand, and read the welcomed contents. 
 
 Mrs. Forester to Miss Irwin* 
 
 >' My dearest Child, 
 
 " Words can but poorly express the 
 satisfaction I felt on the receipt of your let- 
 ter : your success is no less than I expected. 
 I knew you possessed abilities of the first 
 order, and that you wanted but time and ap- 
 plication to mellow them to perfection, I 
 am happy to hear your manager is so par- 
 tial to you : you say, he is a humourist ; let 
 it be your study to preserve him in his pre- 
 sent good humour towards you : this can 
 only be done, by unremitting assiduity in 
 your business, and a strict attention to his 
 advice. Men like him, expect a deference 
 should be paid to their experience and un- 
 derstanding. Let no giddy vanity, nor the 
 usual intoxicating quahty of general applause,
 
 198 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 make you slight his friendly instructions. 
 Popular applause is the most fluctuating 
 thing on earth, and the slightest error or 
 omission may irrecoverably sink you in the 
 public estimation. 
 
 " Keeping this ever in your view ; above 
 all, let your private life be exemplary : ^tis 
 that alone that can produce for you lasting 
 respect and admiration. Beauty vv^ill fade, 
 or become familiar to the eye, and time will 
 inevitably impair the strongest intellects 
 and powers ; but virtuous propensities gain 
 strength with our years ; and when popular 
 eclat is either past or withheld, permanent 
 esteem will remain. Secure the approbation 
 of your own conscience, and you decidedly 
 secure the approbation of those, whose good 
 opinion is alone worth securing. 
 
 " Mr. Percy has seen your letter, and is 
 highly pleased with the attention Dr. Emer- 
 son has shown to his recommendation. 
 He has received you with polite condescen- 
 sion, has himself publicly supported and 
 countenanced by his presence, not only 
 your public first appearance, but has called 
 on you, to pay you his personal respects : 
 this is, in fact, more than you could reason- 
 ably have expected. You think him and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 199 
 
 his daughter somewhat proud ; possibly 
 they may be so ; but all churchmen are not 
 endowed with the humility and heavenly 
 disposition of our worthy Mr. Percy. How- 
 ever, as you become better acquainted, this 
 reserve will wear off, and you can then write 
 to me your real opinion. I hope in your 
 next, you will be able to let me know* 
 something more of the Countess Delafort ; 
 I have often heard your dear mother speak 
 of her, as one of her earliest intimates. If 
 her Ladyship condescends to notice you, it 
 will be a most fortunate circumstance for 
 you, perhaps through life. Should that take 
 place, I need not caution you, how circum- 
 spect you must be, to deserve and preserve 
 such pre-eminent distinction. 
 
 " Impatient to communicate your suc- 
 cess to your aunt and sister ; Heaven for- 
 give me ! I did it to vex them. I waited 
 on them the day after I received your's ; and 
 readi them the account. They are now both 
 residents at Saintbury^s ; your aunt has 
 given up her house, and occupies the preach- 
 er's first floor. A universal hollow groan 
 issued from all the sanctified party. Your 
 poor aunt Gordon turned up her eyes in 
 silent anguish ; Mrs. Saintbury, who is
 
 §00 . THE ACTKESS OF 
 
 growing every day more infirm, complained 
 that the eews had turned her quite ill, and 
 her husband was obliged to help her to a cup 
 of her stomachic cordial to prevent her 
 fainting, while he turned to me, and with a 
 frown, desired I would no longer profane 
 their ears with such imhallowed sounds. 
 Turning to Hester, I said, " are you not re- 
 joiced that Mary has made so fortunate an 
 effort?'' 
 
 *' No, Madam, ^^ returned she with bitter 
 acrimony, ^' I would rather see her dead at 
 my feet, than revelling thus in the trammels 
 of Satan, and eating the br^ad of unrigh- 
 teousness from the wages of sin and shame/* 
 Unable longer to command my temper, I 
 took my leave and departed. 
 
 " I wish you could see your sister; no 
 longer her former self ; not a ribbon or fea- 
 ther to be seen ; a dove-coloured sarcenet 
 gown, plain white silk bonnet of the true 
 fious cut, beneath which peeps the border 
 of a close muslin cap, not a ringlet any 
 where visible, a plain brown silk shawl, a 
 pair of mittens, leather shoes, and pattens 1 
 add an enormous hymn-book, and thus 3^ou 
 have her portrait complete. 
 ' " Your aunt, at this Solomon Saintbury's
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 201 
 
 persuasion, has advanced a large sum of 
 money towards building a chapel for him. 
 His power over her mjnd increases every 
 day ; and where or how it will end. Heaven 
 only knows ; but I have my fears. Hester 
 seems to assume an authority in the house, 
 and the old wife is become a mere cypher : 
 she is breaking very fast, but Hester seems 
 much lustier than ever. This Saintbury, I 
 suppose, keeps a good table, at your aunt's 
 expence. I have seen old Ann, she is very 
 well, and sends her blessing to her sweet 
 child. Farewell, my dearest girl. May He 
 who is a husband to the widow, and a father 
 to the orphan, watch ever over you ! avert- 
 ing all evil from a head so shelterless and 
 fair ! Mr. Percy joins in ardent pra3^ers for 
 your safety ; and believe me, 
 
 '* ever, your mother in affection, 
 " Elizabeth Forester. ^^ 
 
 *' P. S. Write soon, and without reserve: 
 Let me know all your little adventures.'^ 
 
 " Yes, my honoured friend ; my second 
 parent, you shall know every secret of your 
 Mary's heart," exclaimed our Heroine, as 
 she had finished the letter. " No occurrence 
 worth your knowledge shall I ever conceal. 
 With you, and the good Mr. Percy for my 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 counsel and direction ; with the sacred and 
 revered countenances of my parents now 
 before me ; I shall, I trust, avoid those un- 
 seen rocks, which less fortunate, though 
 more deserving girls, have too often split 
 upon. Ye dear and close resemblances of 
 the best parents ever child was blest with ! 
 ye seem still to watch your Mary, with the 
 same solicitude and tender fondness I have 
 ever witnessed." 
 
 And here, while the filial tear dropped on 
 her mother^s miniature which she held in 
 her hand, she cast her moistened eves alter- 
 nately on her father^s portrait, which adorn- 
 ed her room, and hung conspicuously in 
 her sight. For Mary had caused a neat and 
 elegant frame to be made for it, that could 
 conveniently be taken to pieces, and be 
 packed up in her largest trunk. 
 
 Miss Thompson and our Heroine were 
 become very intimate friends ; there was a 
 similarity in their dispositions ; though Miss 
 Thompson was the more lively of the two, 
 yet she was a girl of great sensibility, pos- 
 sessed of a clear understanding and a com- 
 passionate heart ; her strong filial aflTection 
 for her mother, a most respectable old gen- 
 tle\yoman, who lived with her daughter.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 203 
 
 greatly increased Mary's regard for her, and 
 she frequently invited them both to tea ; in 
 return, she would call and take a cup with 
 them. The old lady was a most rational 
 and entertaining acquaintance, and an en- 
 thusiast in her daughter's praise. Such mu- 
 tual and tender regard did not pass unno- 
 ticed, but augmented Mary's esteem for 
 both. 
 
 On the Tuesday evening. Miss Thomp- 
 son called on her : she had been studying 
 
 the part of Angela which Mr. P — had 
 
 cast her, and it was now expected sne 
 would be ready in it, when called upon. 
 She felt a lassitude and a pain in her head, 
 from intense application, and she was much 
 pleased with that agreeable girl's visit, to 
 dispel such uneasy sensations. Mary was 
 leaning wnth her head on her hand, when 
 she entered. 
 
 " Bless me ! my dear,^' cried Miss 
 Thompson ; " what's the matter ; an't you 
 well? You look poorly.^' 
 
 " I am somewhat fatigued with study, I 
 believe," said Mary, " for my head feels 
 affected." 
 
 " Never mind ; throw that book aside, 
 and take a walk with me : it is a delightful
 
 204 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 evening : and all the town will be promenad- 
 ing." 
 
 " That is the very reason I wish to re- 
 main at home. I don't covet observation : 
 but yesterday morning I , was very rudely 
 accosted by a set of officers. They had laid 
 a bet among themselves, that I was painted, 
 and I underwent their impertinent remarks 
 for a considerable time." 
 
 " ^Pshavv ! nonsense ! you take these 
 things too seriously. They used to teaze 
 T^i^ continually : but I laughed at them, and 
 they soon grew tired ; and now I pass and 
 repass without the least notice : "tis only a 
 stupid gaze, and a vacant stare for a day or 
 so ; nothing more, believe me : but I have 
 news for you. The great Miss Starrit is 
 just arrived from London, to perform six 
 nights. Our Manager is quite in the fidgets, 
 and won't be easy, while she stays ; it puts 
 him out of his regular jog-trot way. But 
 Lord Brudenel insists on his engaging her, 
 so Mr. P must submit : he'll grum- 
 ble like a bear, the whole time, as he must 
 share the house with her, and give her a be- 
 nefit clear of all but incidental charges ; so 
 you will now have a long holiday." 
 
 *' I am very happy to hear it,'^ said Mary.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 20o 
 
 " I knew you would," returned her 
 young friend ; " but though you'll be rid of 
 your head-ache^ somebody's heart will ache, 
 be assured. Mrs. Crawley is outrageous. 
 Never was poor woman so cruelly used ; so 
 inhumanly sJielft, She talks of leaving the 
 company; but 'tis all talk. She knows bet- 
 ter : for she has a number of friends in the 
 
 circuit, particularly at — • ; where she 
 
 has always an overflowing benefit : so in" 
 terest^ niy dear, will keep ^her, though 
 P and she are now at daggers-draw- 
 
 '* How ? inform me." 
 
 Miss Starrit is to open in Lady Randolph. 
 Now you must know she is not tall : whe- 
 ther to vex het\, or Mrs. Crawley, or more 
 
 probably hoth^ Mr. P has cast the 
 
 latter the part of Anna. She came to re- 
 hearsal this morning in such a taking, threw 
 the book down, and vowed it was intended 
 to insult her ; as doubtless it was. Miss 
 Starrit observing the dispute, sided with her; 
 and said, she could not expeqt a lady, who 
 was in possession oiihejirst business, would 
 condescend to play seconds ; and were not 
 that the case, her figure was so much taller 
 and larger every way : she could not think
 
 206 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 of appearing on the same boards with Mrs. 
 Crawley, to such evident disadvantage : but 
 our Manager will have it so ; and the bills 
 are out for Thursday. How it will be set- 
 tled Heaven knows ! But P has so 
 
 contrived it, in hopes Miss Starrit will de- 
 cline the engagement : but he will be mis- 
 taken, the Londoners are as anxious for 
 money, as the Managers," 
 
 " Let them settle it among themselves," 
 cried Mary. " We are not concerned."" 
 
 Miss Thompson and Mary now set for- 
 w^ard for a walk. Mary's dress was very 
 elegant, but plain mourning : it was fashion- 
 ably genteel. 
 
 ^ As they passed along, the same string of 
 officers saluted Mary with a distant and re- 
 spectful bow ; which she as politely and as 
 distantly returned. The ladies indeed gazed, 
 and turned and stared after her ; but after 
 two or three rounds, the novelty wore off; 
 and she began to perceive the truth of Miss 
 Thompson's observation . As they approach- 
 ed the public library. Miss Emerson, and a 
 large party of fashionable females, accompa- 
 nied by the Reverend Doctor and his son, 
 the Captain, met her full. Mary curtseyed 
 as they passed her. The Doctor slightly
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 20? 
 
 and stifly bowed ; his daughter drew her- 
 self up, and averted her head ; while the 
 Captain followed her with his eyes, and 
 smiling seemed to say, " I know you^ but 
 you see, Fm engaged J* 
 
 Mary coloured, and felt hurt at the ap- 
 parent and wilful slight. She construed it 
 as marked disapprobation of her presump- 
 tion and familiarity. '' If I had passed them 
 without paying them that mark of respect, 
 they might be justly offended ; but now I 
 know not what to think." Miss Thompson, 
 who read her thoughts, laughed heartily. 
 " You see, my dear, in what an estimable 
 light we actresses are held. When these 
 great folks think proper to notice us, we, 
 poor souls, must be all humility and obei- 
 sance : they may vcvdkefree with us, but we 
 must not presume to do so by them. Such 
 is the world, Miss Irwin ; but we are not 
 the only class of people, who are thus de- 
 pendent and submissive : observe the shop- 
 keepers ; how look they behind tlieir coun- 
 ters ? All congee and grimace I how low they 
 bow, when they hand you a shilling' s-ioorth 
 of ribbon, or a yard of lace : and so it is 
 from the very beggar who openly solicits
 
 208 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 your charity, to the proud Peer^ who as ob- 
 sequiously cringes before his sovereign for 
 a place or a pension/* In this manner did 
 this entertaining friend rally poor Mary's 
 drooping spirits. 
 
 Just as they were on the eve of returning 
 bonne, they perceived an open landau and 
 four approaching : in it were seated the 
 Countess Delafort and her daughter Lady 
 Lucy, Mrs. Marlovv, and the Honourable 
 William Neville ; her Ladyship's nephew. 
 All made way for so splendid an equipage : 
 the four beautiful bright bays in embossed 
 harness, and the rich liveries, attracted gene- 
 ral notice : as the carriage rolled along, the 
 Countess espied Mary, whom she singled 
 out ; waving her hand to her with the most 
 affable and condescending smile, the car- 
 riage stopped, and a footman was dispatched 
 to our Heroine, who, with his hat off, in- 
 formed Mary, her Ladyship waited to speak 
 with her. All eyes were now drawn to ob- 
 serve what passed. Mary approached^ The 
 Countess bent forward ; and requested her 
 not to forget to be ready by ten o*clock in 
 the morning : that her carriage should be at 
 the door by that time. ** I believe,'^ said
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 909 
 
 Lady Lucy, " Mrs. Mai low and I shall 
 want it about that time ; and now I think 
 of it, I must have it." 
 
 " You caFi take your father s^ Lady 
 Lucy ; he*ll not use it,'* returned her mo- 
 ther ; " but my carriage shall convey Miss 
 Irwin to the Castle, whether you like it or 
 not." 
 
 Lady Lucy sat silent, and sulky. Mrs. 
 Marlow never deigned to open her lips, nor 
 look at Mary : but the honourable little 
 beau kept staring at her with a fixed won- 
 derland persevering ardour, that much dis- 
 tressed her. 
 
 Mary made every possible effort to reject 
 the use of the carriage ; saying, she loved 
 exercise, and the walk would do her good ; 
 but the Countess said, " the walk is too 
 fatiguing for you this warm weather : 'tis 
 full four miles to the Park-lodge, and the 
 avenue nearly a mile to the Castle. We 
 must not have you thrown ill. That would 
 be a public loss ; so be in readiness when it 
 calls for you.'' Then taking her leave, bow- 
 ing and nodding, the equipage drove on, 
 and Mary returned to her companion, who 
 was waiting for her, highly gratified with the
 
 •210 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 truly flattering distinction now paid to her 
 young friend. 
 
 Mary now took her arm, in order to pro- 
 ceed homeward ; but Miss Thompson re- 
 quested her to take another turn, and 
 observe the effect the Countesses notice of 
 her would occasion : — " It will be truly 
 laughable and contemptible ; and were you 
 in any other but a dependent station on 
 public favour, it would merit a similar return 
 like what you experienced from the Doc tor ^s 
 party ; but, my dear girl, we cannot afford 
 retaliation: so let it pass/^ 
 
 Accordingly, by her friend's persuasion, 
 she took a couple of turns ; and now, every 
 gentleman's hat flew off, as she passed them, 
 and the ladies smiled and bowed. Both the 
 girls were now in high spirits, and with 
 difficulty could preserve their gravity, espe- 
 cially when Dr. Emerson's party advanced ; 
 tho dignitary^s hat was now no longer 
 nailed to his head, and had the Lord Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury met his eye, the 
 salute could not be more reverend and pro- 
 found. 
 
 " How does Miss Irwin do, this charm- 
 ing evening," cried the obsequious Doctor,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 211 
 
 smiling, and in an audible voice ; '- but I 
 need not ask, this weather has the happiest 
 effect ; you are grown quite a stranger ; 
 you surely have not forgot your v/ay to our 
 house, my dear ?" 
 
 '* Miss Irwin, I fancy,^^ said the Captain, 
 '' is so engaged at the theatre ^ she has no 
 time to dedicate to the church" 
 
 " Oh ! positively, Miss Irwin," cried 
 Olivia Emerson, " that must not be ; we 
 shall take it extremely unkind." 
 
 *' I am loth. Madam," returned Mary, 
 modestly, " to intrude, lest I should tress- 
 pass at a time, when you are surrounded 
 with company ; my presence then must 
 doubtless be deemed irksome and imperti- 
 nent." 
 
 " By no means,*^ answered the Divine. 
 " Company or not. Miss Irwin ought to 
 know, her visits will be esteemed a favour at 
 all times." 
 
 " Well, Miss Irwin,'^ cried Olivia aloud. 
 '' You'll not forget: I shall expect you 
 shortly, remember — " 
 
 *' Give me leave to present you with this 
 peach, Miss Irwin," said the Captain, bow- 
 ing politel}^ " and one for your friend." 
 And he presented one to each.
 
 S12 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 *' Well, Adieu 1^- said Miss Emerson, 
 smiling. " I shall be inexpressibly anxious 
 till you call on me ; pray don't make it long 
 first." 
 
 *' What a charming interesting girl V* 
 exclaimed Dr. Emerson, as they separated. 
 
 " A very charming girl, indeed !" echoed 
 all the ladies, looking after our Heroine. 
 " What eyes ! what a colour ! pure nature I 
 declare ! who would have thought it?" 
 
 " So, my dear," cried Miss Thompson, 
 " all this is owing to the weather. Oh ! 
 this world ! this world !" 
 
 When the girls reached Mary's lodgings, 
 Mrs. Howard informed her, that the Mana- 
 ger had called, and left word for her to 
 rjome to him, as he had something very par- 
 ticular to say. 
 
 " What can it be?*^ said Mary to her 
 friend. *' Surely he will dispense with my 
 services, while this London actress per- 
 forms ?" 
 
 " There is no knowing," answered her 
 friend, " he is such an odd being ; but as 
 he has made you so conspicuous an object, 
 you have no right to perform, while she 
 remains, much less to play seconds to her ;
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 21 
 
 <i 
 
 but go and hear, however ; it may be some- 
 thing else/^ 
 
 Mary accordingly parted from Miss 
 
 Thompson, and proceeded to Mr. P 's. 
 
 The Manager met her on the stairs, with, 
 " Come up, my dear ; I am very glad you 
 are come ; here is a lady, to whom I wish 
 to introduce you." Mary followed the Ma- 
 nager, and was immediately presented to 
 Miss Starrit. 
 
 The London 'Heroine, with her glass 
 surveyed our \)00y proviiicialisf^ and with a 
 scrutinizing eye ; then condescended to 
 break silence. 
 
 " You are. Madam, I presume, the young 
 lady who has lately made her debut in this 
 town with such considerable eclat .^'^ 
 
 Mary bowed — Miss Starrit continued. 
 " I am quite glad to hear it ; indeed, I am 
 always glad to hear of every one^s success 
 in so diificult a profession to rise in : it 
 requires a world of pains and length of 
 time, to climb to the top of the tree, believe 
 
 me." 
 
 " Aye, so it does in general^ Miss Star- 
 rit," said the Manager ; " and I dare say, 
 you found it so ; but my little chicken here.
 
 214 THE ACTRESS Of 
 
 has flown to the top branches at once ; what 
 say you to that ?" 
 
 " That may be the case. Sir," said the 
 London lady, " in some ^>>roi;mcz«/ towns, 
 where critical judgment is not predominant ; 
 and when a young lady happens to have 
 numerous friends to support her ; but it is 
 widely different otherwise ; it is impossible 
 for the most promising actress to rise in the 
 profession, w^iile she beholds none superior 
 to herself. I have a most particular favour 
 to beg of you, Miss Irwin." 
 
 " Pray let me know it. Madam," replied 
 Maiy ; " and if in my power, I shall be 
 happy to oblige you." 
 
 " It is in your power. Miss Irwin,'' re- 
 turned Miss Starrit ; " but I ask it as an 
 obligation. I am so distressed for a fit 
 person to support me in Lady Randolph., 
 you can't imagine ; the lady, whom Mr. 
 
 P fixed upon for the part of Anna., 
 
 is, unfortunately for me, so uncommonly 
 tall., that I declare I should appear like a 
 shrimp by her side ; you certainly have 
 much the advantage of me in height, but 
 the contrast is not near so striking : the part is 
 very short ; and if you will undertake it
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 215 
 
 against Thursday night, I shall esteem it a 
 most essential favour." 
 
 Mary paused — 
 
 '' Mind, my dear/' said Mr. P , 
 
 " I have nothing to do in this business ; I 
 make no request ; I could not have the face 
 to ask you : I told the lady, she must take 
 it on herself." 
 
 " I assure you, Miss Irwin, '^ said this 
 London Star ; " when I vvas a provincial 
 performer of considerable celebrity, and 
 very high in the profession, I was obliged 
 to play second to Mrs. S-dd— ns, and that 
 not many years ago. 1 thought it no degra- 
 dation ; I was happy to reap improvement 
 under so celebrated a lady : we may be very 
 great in a country town ; but, be assured, 
 it is London^ London onli/^ that gives the 
 real stamp ^ and renders merit sterling, ^^ 
 
 Mary replied, " I am perfectly aware. 
 Madam, that I want experience, and I shall 
 be happy to profit by attending to the 
 manner and conception of those eminent 
 performers, who have already received the 
 London stamp of approbation ; but I wish 
 not to become a servile copyist." 
 
 " iVb," said Miss Starrit, " I suppose 
 not. Young actors and actresses, by way of
 
 S16 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 distinguishing themselves, adopt new read- 
 ings at the present day, and frequently new 
 costume ; from the affectation of singularity 
 and erroneous judgment, they frequently 
 disjoin w^ords w^hich have immediate con- 
 nexion. I have heard manv a Macbeth, 
 address Banquo's Ghost, thus, ' Hence, 
 horrible shadow ! unreal I mockery.^ Now, 
 if it were ' iinreal^^ and a ' mere mockery, 
 hence^ how could the shadow be horrible ! 
 Again : it has been the costume lately to 
 make Othello of a deep brown or tawney 
 complexion, contrary to Shakespear's ex- 
 press words, ' Haply, for I am blackJ 
 
 • Her name, that was as fair as Dian's 
 visage, is now begrimed^ and black as my 
 own face/ — And Brabantio also says, 
 Othello must have used some spell or mix- 
 ture, to make his daughter ' fall in love 
 with what she feared to look on.' There is 
 now a very promising young man in town, 
 who has very properly restored Othello's 
 colour to its original darkness, though the 
 newspaper critics have thought fit to cen- 
 sure him. But this is a digression. Will 
 you oblisre me, Miss Irwin ?" 
 
 '' Most willingly would 1, Madam," an- 
 sw^ered Mary, " but it is totally out of my
 
 l^HE PRESENT DAY. 217 
 
 power. I am obliged to spend the whole 
 day to-morrow with the Countess Delafort, 
 at the Castle. She has condescended to be* 
 friend and send for me ; and both interest 
 and inclination forbid me to offend her." 
 
 *' But a visit of mere ceremony and plea- 
 sure, Miss Irwin/' replied Miss Starrit, 
 " should ever yield to business ; — the business 
 we live by.^* 
 
 " True, Madam," returned Mary, " and 
 it is wy business to secure, and not to slight 
 her Ladyship's favour." 
 
 " How unfortunate !" exclaimed the Lon- 
 don Melpomene ; '' but could you not take 
 the book, and study the very short part of 
 Ann^, as you go, and on your return. I 
 have often studied a long part walkings when 
 alone." 
 
 " The Countess sends her carriage for 
 me, Madam. f^ 
 
 " Well, my dear," returned the tragic 
 Heroine, " a book in a carriage is a most 
 agreeable companion ; you could read it at- 
 tentively over, before you retire to rest ; and 
 in the morning early, and at your breakfast ; 
 at rehearsal Til instruct you in the business. 
 You'll be perfect y I dare say." 
 
 '* I am afraid not. Madam ; consider 1 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 ^18 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 am but a novice ,\ and the alarm and flurry I 
 should feel, and the consequent anxiety I 
 should endure, would perplex and confound 
 me so, that " 
 
 " Oh ! these are unnecessary apprehen- 
 sions, Miss Irwin." 
 
 " That I most inevitably should distress 
 1/ou" 
 
 " Oh ! that indeed would be shocking^ 
 and must not be. What's to be done in this 
 business, Mr. P- — ■ ?" 
 
 " Really, Madam, I can^t say,^' said the 
 Manager. " We must change the play/' 
 
 " That is almost as bad. Lady Randolph 
 is one of my favourite parts, and what I ge- 
 nerally open in : but change the piece ; and 
 Pll appear in Belvidera,'' 
 
 " Very well. Madam," replied the Manager. 
 
 " I suppose," said Miss Starrit, '' I shall 
 have two virgins to attend me." 
 
 " I know not. Madam," cried P : 
 
 " my ladies are most of them married ; 
 however, I will procure you two female at- 
 tendants." 
 
 " Well !" exclaimed the London Star, as 
 she rose and strutted to the door, " this is 
 the first time in my life, that I asked a fa- 
 vour, and was reused : and by a country
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 219 
 
 4ictress tool Your servant, Sir:" and away 
 the lady stalked ; drawing herself up as she 
 passed our Heroine, with a most contemptu- 
 ous look. 
 
 " Heh ! heh ! heh !'* chuckled the Mana- 
 ger and rubbing his hands, " You have 
 sent off this Heroine /rom London, w^ith a 
 very proper refusal, my dear, I wish I 
 could send her back to London, with the 
 same ease, and at as little expence : so you 
 are to wait upon the Countess to-morrow, I 
 find ; by her own desire !" 
 
 " I am. Sir, to spend the day with her 
 Ladyship at the Castle." 
 
 *' I am glad of it," cried P , " that 
 
 this Miss Starrit may see, i/ou can have 
 noble patronage as well as herself. You 
 will now have plenty of time to study ; for 
 I shan't call on you for three weeks to come, 
 after Saturday: for I dare say she will per- 
 form nine instead of six nights: and I shall 
 be compelled to give her a clear benefit ; but 
 ril take care she shan't run away with a be- 
 spoke night, from me. I was once serve 1 
 that trick by Mr. Muns, the comic actor 
 from town." 
 
 '' How pray, Sir.^" asked Mary. 
 
 *' Why, you must know, my dear," said 
 
 L 9
 
 220 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 he, *' we were playing at — — -^, when 
 there was a grand festival meeting of all the 
 nobility and gentry around. The town so 
 crowded : beds let at two guineas per night, 
 Mr. Muns was performing with us at the 
 time, as Miss Starrit might be. I had se- 
 cured, I thought, the patrons and stewards 
 of the festival's bespeak^ snug for myself , 
 after Muns left us ; but he got wind of 
 it some how ; waited on them ; told them 
 of his family ; his heavy expences in travel- 
 ling : for that man can make as poor a mouth 
 as any country actor existing : in short, the 
 fellow succeeded, and snapped it up for 
 himself. When I taxed him with his unge- 
 nerous advantage, net being in the best of 
 tempers ; he laughed^ and said, in Silky^s 
 words, ' / inust provide for yny family ^ 
 Mr. Sulky.' Yes, the rogue called me 
 Sulky ; I was vexed, that's certain. He 
 would not have had twenty pounds in the 
 house otherwise ; and he cleared above two 
 hundred pounds." 
 
 " Well, good evening. Sir,'* said Mary. 
 " I am pleased my refusal, which was una- 
 voidable, has met your concurrence." 
 
 " Perfectly so, my dear," replied the Ma- 
 nager. " Remember Lady Townley^ on Sa-
 
 iHE PRESENT DAY. 221 
 
 tui-day. We shall show this London stamp 
 a little sterling ore in the country, though it 
 has not got the Hall-mark there as yet. All 
 in good time, my dear : we shall show her an 
 over/low on Saturday, without her aid, I war- 
 rant : good bye." 
 
 Mary now quitted the Manager, and re- 
 turned home. She ros6 early in the morn- 
 ing, and dressed herself, took a slight break- 
 fast ; which she had just finished, when the 
 Countess's carriage arrived at her lodgings ; 
 just as the church clock had chimed ten, 
 Mary stepped into it ; and in about half an 
 hour arrived at the Castle. 
 
 The Countess was at breakfast when 
 Mary was conducted to her apartment : her 
 Ladyship invited her to partake. " Though," 
 added she with a smile, " I dare say you 
 have already breakfasted : however, your ride 
 may have renewed your appetite, so I thought 
 a cup of chocolate might prove acceptable." 
 Mary thanked her, and accepted the offer. 
 
 " I generally breakfast alone, as I am some- 
 what of an invalid. The Earl is a very early 
 man, and Lady Lucy is obhged to preside in 
 her father's presence, and prepare his coffee or 
 chocolate, with her own hands : this is much 
 against the grain ; for I assure you, she is
 
 t^t^^ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Otherwise a sad lie-a-bed : but her father's? 
 commands are imperative. We will dis- 
 patch this, and then, Miss Irwin, if you are 
 not fatigued, you can accompany me round 
 some of our pleasure-grounds, and relate 
 more minutely the misfortunes that have 
 brought the daughter of my friend into the 
 line of life I now see you." 
 
 Mary, when seated with the Countess in 
 a coo) arbour, w^hither they had retreated, 
 related the leading features of her history. 
 That amiable lady^s eyes betrayed the ten- 
 derest sensibility at the recital ; and when 
 she produced her mother's miniature, which 
 she constantly wore, the Countess took it 
 in her hand, and impressed a kiss thereon, 
 saying, " it is indeed a striking likeness V^ 
 Mary was delighted at this token of her 
 ladyship's strong esteem, and the particular 
 attention she paid to herself; so free, so fa- 
 miliar, and yet so truly delicate, that it re- 
 moved the diffidence we may naturally sup- 
 pose poor Mary at first laboured under, and 
 enabled her to bear with the greater forti- 
 tude, the cool and forced politeness she ex- 
 perienced from the rest of that noble ami 
 distinguished family.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 923 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Xjady Lucy, and Mrs. Marlow had set 
 off in the Earl^s carriage about half an hour 
 before Mary's arrival at the Castle. Mary 
 had not met them, as their road lay in a 
 different direction, and she was glad she had 
 escaped their passing sneers. 
 
 The Earl as soon as he had breakfasted, 
 mounted his horse and insisted his nephew 
 and ward, the Honourable William Neville, 
 should ride with him ; with this desire^ for 
 all his Lordship's wishes, once intimated, 
 were absolute commands, the young cox- 
 comb was obliged to comply, to the immi- 
 nent hazard of his tender face. A large 
 white hat lined with green, shaded his de- 
 licate countenance ; and the Earl, in dis- 
 regard of his nephew's intreaties, always rode 
 fast for the sake of exercise, which entirely 
 unhinged the dehcate frame of the little beau. 
 
 His Lordship was a nobleman of a rud- 
 dy, brown complexion, which bore the 
 marks of travel and the sun ; about the age
 
 224 XHE ACTKKSS O* 
 
 of fifty-four ; tall and active for his years, 
 and indefatigable in his pursuits, particularly 
 after wealthy place, and power. His man- 
 ner cool and formal, yet not forbidding, 
 polite and condescending to an extreme, 
 when fee chose ; but it was a condescension 
 which every one felt, as it forbade the slight- 
 est approach, and marked distinctly, the 
 line of distance others were to observe. 
 He w^as, notwithstanding, a tender husband, 
 and an indulgent father. He was bountiful 
 occasionally, but rather ostentatious ; in 
 short, he was a good, though not an amia- 
 ble man. 
 
 Lady Lucy inherited only the disagree- 
 able qualities of her father; and not one 
 amiable trait of her excellent mother. She 
 had many peculiarly her own. She was 
 yain, capricious, malicious, and passionate 
 to a degree, and above all, envious, and in- 
 veterate in her dislikes. 
 
 Sir George Dashington, Baronet, whose 
 views on Lady Lucy's fortune were pretty 
 evident, though Miss Olivia Emerson would 
 not credit it, and her little Ladyship attri- 
 buted his close assiduities wholly to her 
 own merit, and personal attractions ; was, 
 in the strictest sense, a man of the touy
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 295 
 
 highly accompUshed, but a hbertine in prin- 
 ciple; of strong feehngs and acute discern- 
 ment ; liberal and generous by nature, but 
 depraved from fashion ; his fortune, origi- 
 nally large, but reduced by dissipation and 
 the gaming-table. 
 
 We have drawn these sketches, and traced 
 the outlines with accuracy, that the light 
 and shade which will hereafter accompany 
 them, may be the more clearly seen, and 
 the colouring not mistaken. 
 
 Lord Delafort returned with his nephew 
 from their ride about five o'clock, attended 
 by Sir George, and Colonel Jameson. 
 Lady Lucy and Mrs. Mario w soon follow- 
 ed, and the ladies and gentlemen retired to 
 dress for dinner, Mary had brought with 
 her, her best mourning, with jet necklace, 
 ear-rings and ornaments for the head ; "and 
 was soon equipped as elegantly as so solemn 
 a habit would permit. 
 
 The Countess now descended with Mary 
 to the drawing-room, and taking our He- 
 roine's hand, presented her to the Earl, \ as 
 the daughter of her beloved and earliest 
 companion ; his Lordship received her with 
 unusual affability and a complacent smile; 
 welcomed her to the Castle, and hoped she 
 
 L 5
 
 ^96 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 would be no stranger. Lady Lucy spoke to 
 her now with apparent civihty, for hrs 
 Lordship introduced Mary to his daughter 
 and to Mrs. Mario w : this last lady, at length, 
 condescended to surv^ey her without a frown, 
 and once or twice to address her on some 
 general topics ; she even seemed surprised 
 at her judicious and pertinent remarks. "^ I 
 declare," cried she, in a whisper to Lady 
 Lucy, '' I am really astonished ! that girl 
 is much better informed than 1 could hav^e 
 supposed. She is by no means deficient, 
 and her manner tolerably passable, and her 
 ' figure not amiss.'* 
 
 To w^hich observation, Lady Lucy, with 
 some reluctance, assented; but remarked, 
 ^' that though Miss Irwin had certainly well 
 studied her part on her way to the Castle, 
 yet it was evident it was Ladi/ Townleij at 
 second hand." 
 
 At dinner the Earl was particularly atten- 
 tive to our young actress ; he placed her 
 next to himself, and directed his conversa- 
 tion chiefly to her. " Your father. Miss 
 Irwin, was once a major in the army ; how 
 came he to leave it ?" 
 
 " He was severely wounded, my Lord," 
 replied Mary, " in the very last action he
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 92? 
 
 was engaged in, and sold out in conse- 
 quence.'^ 
 
 " That was a pity/' returned the Earl, 
 " for had he continued in the service,he must 
 have been, by the time of his recent death, 
 a general-officer. You have a brother now a 
 heutenant, I am informed. ^^ 
 
 *' I have, my Lord, and he is now abroad 
 with his regiment at Malta." 
 
 " 1 have the pleasure of knowing Lieut. 
 Irwin perfectly well," said Colonel Jameson ; 
 *' a more promising young man, and a 
 better officer, there is not in the service. 
 You bear a strong resemblance to your 
 brother, Miss Ir\yin.^' 
 
 " We are accounted to be ahke, Sir,'^ 
 said Mary bowing. 
 
 " Then he must be a very handsome man, 
 Colonel ;" cried Sir George Dashington. 
 
 " There is not a finer looking fellow to 
 be seen. Sir George," rephed the Colonel, 
 *' no, not in twenty regiments." 
 
 Sir George Dashington was seated next to 
 Lady Lucy : though his attentions were ad- 
 dressed to her seemingly, he could not re- 
 frain from stealing a look at poor Mary, so 
 pointedly^ that he would often appear lost 
 in the gaze ; till roused by Lady Lucy's
 
 ^28 TH£ ACtKtSS ot 
 
 chiding him for his absence and neglect of 
 her. 
 
 The Honourable WiUiam Neville was 
 most troublesomely officious ; helping her 
 promiscuously to every delicacy at table,and 
 paying her the most fulsome compliments ; 
 so much so, that he distressed Mary, as he 
 drew the eyes of the company towards them, 
 which his Lordship observing, checked him 
 with a frown, saying, " cease your teazing, 
 Neville ; you absolutely annoy the young 
 lady." 
 
 " Annoy her, my Lord,^' cried Neville : 
 '' how is that possible ? Is it in nature, that 
 my assiduities can annoy any person ?" 
 
 " Oh'! pray, my Lord," exclaimed Lady 
 Lucy, " don^t restrain him ; he is really 
 vastly amusing ; it is the first time my 
 pretty coz. ever let his attention wander 
 from himself. Sir George, likewise, seems 
 somew^hat abstracted ;" and she darted an en- 
 vious glance towards Mary. 
 
 When the company rose from table, 
 Lady Lucy went to her harp. *' I suppose, 
 Miss Irwin, you play ?" said her Lady- 
 ship. 
 
 *' I am no proficient," answered Mary»
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 229 
 
 " 1 have not touched an instrument since 
 my father's death.*' 
 
 " I am but a learner myself," replied the 
 Earl's daughter. " I am told this is a fine 
 toned one ; and so it ought, for it cost a 
 round sum ; do pray oblige me." 
 
 Mary immediately complied. She played 
 two or three little airs with much taste and 
 feeling ; and though her execution was not 
 masterly, her judgment w^as correct. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo !" exclaimed the little 
 gentleman. " Encore ! encore !" 
 
 " For shame, Wilham," cried the Coun- 
 tess ; " you forget yourself; you fancy 
 yourself in a theatre, I believe." '< Your 
 ladyship is right," returned the Nephew ; 
 *' how can I think otherwise, when 1 look 
 
 on Miss Irwin. -St. Cecilia, by all that's 
 
 fascinating.'^ 
 
 " Come here, Sir," cried Mrs. Mario w : 
 *' let me lead you, where your respects will 
 be more acceptable ;" and she brought him 
 before a large mirror : " there is the real ob- 
 ject of your adoration." 
 
 '* You are, Madam," returned the beau, 
 adjusting his person before the glass, *' most 
 provokingly rude."
 
 530 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " She could with more truth return your 
 comphment," cried Lady Lucy. 
 - " Aye ; there it is !*' replied the honour- 
 able fop, " I vow you are both jealous, and 
 envy Miss Irwin the distinguished enco- 
 miums I am compelled to pay to charms so 
 irresistible." 
 
 Mary was by this time seated next the 
 Countess, who having learned that she had 
 three weeks to spare, requested her in the 
 most friendly and pressing manner to pass a 
 week or more at the Castle. " It will reno- 
 vate your health, my dear,'^ said that worthy 
 lady, " already visibly hurt by close appli- 
 cation and professional exertion.'^ 
 
 Mary modestl}^ replied, she would cer- 
 tainly avail herself of the high honour her 
 ladyship was pleased to confer. 
 
 " Then I shall expect you on Monday, 
 to spend at least a week at the Castle. You 
 have not had an opportunity of viewing half 
 the romantic scenery around. Exercise and 
 the country will perfectly restore you, and 
 you will return to resume your career, with 
 increased energy and spirits.'* 
 
 Her Ladyship desired her nephew to order 
 the carriage for Miss Irwin, as the evening 
 was drawing to a close.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 231 
 
 '* Most readily shall I obey your Lady 
 ship," cried Neville, " and I shall then have 
 the superlative felicity of a tetc-d-ttte ride 
 with Miss Irwin. Ye gods! how trans- 
 porting !" 
 
 " Cease your impertinent transports, Sir/^ 
 cried the Countess. " Miss Irwin, I am 
 conscious, will readily dispense with your 
 attendance ; and your uncle will want yoi| 
 presently in the library. The Colonel and 
 his Lordship have by this time finished their 
 game at chess.'* 
 
 The footman now announced the car- 
 riage was waiting, and Mary rose to take 
 her leave ; the honourable little relative now 
 prepared to see her to it, but Sir George 
 iidvancing, stepped between, and taking the 
 hand of Mary, said, '' You will permit me 
 that honour ;" and the Baronet led her down 
 stairs, to the great disappointment of the 
 enraged beau, who followed them in visible 
 agitation. 
 
 The Baronet, as he descended, pressed 
 Mary's hand, which he held, with warmth^ 
 and softly told her he was exceedingly happy 
 to find she was to pass some days at the 
 Castle ; as he wanted to communicate some- 
 thing of the utmost import ; adding, " I
 
 ^32 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 shall shortly have the opportunity of ex- 
 plaining myself more fully. Perhaps I shall 
 meet you at Dr. Emerson's.^* 
 
 " It is possible you may, Sir,'* replied our 
 Heroine. 
 
 " Adieu, then, my sweet girl, till we meet 
 again." So saying, he assisted her into the 
 carriage, which immediately drove towards 
 the town. 
 
 Mary, as she rode home, pondered on Sir 
 George^s behaviour, and was particularly at 
 a loss to guess what he could possibly wish 
 to impart to her: of import too, he said. 
 " Perhaps,*^ thought she, " he wants to 
 explain to me his visible inconsistency ; for 
 it must be evident to any one, who has 
 witnessed his devotion, ^rst to Miss Emer- 
 son, and then to Lady Lucy, that he is 
 playing a double part. But what is that to 
 me ? I am no ways interested in their affairs, 
 nor am I a confidential friend to either of 
 the ladies ; neither do I wish to be. At 
 all events, his conduct seems marked with 
 duplicity, and gives me no favourable im- 
 pression of his character." 
 
 These reflections engrossed her thoughts, 
 till the carriage arrived at her lodgings, when 
 thanking the servants, she ascended to her
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^3'3 
 
 apartments ; she there found a note for her. 
 She opened it. It ran thus : 
 
 " Miss Emerson's compliments wait on 
 Miss Irwin, will be happy if she will call on 
 her to-morrow evening, when she has ar- 
 rived from her visit at Delafort Castle ; on 
 a matter of import which concerns her 
 nearly.'^ 
 
 " So,'' cried Mary, smiling, " another 
 affair of import for my ear ; but whether it 
 concerns me, or the lady herself, or Sir George, 
 I am sure I cannot foresee ; time must ex- 
 plain ; at all events, I am become a person 
 of importance ; be it what it may." 
 
 Before she went to see Miss Starrit in 
 Belvidera, she waited on Miss Emerson, 
 who received her alone, and in a very 
 friendly manner, totally different from what 
 she experienced on her former visit." 
 
 *' And so. Miss Irwin," said she, " you 
 have been paying your respects iit the 
 Castle : a superb mansion, I have been in- 
 formed." 
 
 " Very," returned Mary : " the true 
 picture of ancient magnificence ; have not 
 vou been there ?" 
 
 " I have not had that honour as t/et^^* 
 replied Miss Emerson, a little jealous, per-
 
 234 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 haps, at the distinction paid to Mary ; '* but 
 I suppose I shall have a card of invitation 
 when the Countess gives her next ball ; it 
 is sev^eral years since ; she and Lord Dela- 
 fort and Lady Lucy have resided abroad a 
 considerable time. What company had you 
 there ?'' 
 
 " None but the company usual there, I 
 beheve, two or three select friends/^ 
 
 " Who, pray ?'* asked Miss Olivia, ea- 
 gerly. 
 
 " Mrs. Marlow is one,'^ said Mary, " and 
 a Colonel Jameson.^' 
 
 " Was Sir George Dashington there ?^* 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he seems on a very intimate 
 footing in the family.^' 
 
 " Indeed ! quite intimate you say ? He 
 was very particular in his attentions to my 
 Lord, I dare say ?'^ 
 
 " They seem to be on the most friendly 
 terms. ^* 
 
 " And the Countess too, no doubt ?^^ 
 
 " Certainly ; he seems quite at home 
 there, I assure you<*' 
 
 " Indeed f quite at home you think; 
 and how ? not that I care ; but how did he 
 behave to Lady Lucy }"
 
 HIE PRESENT DAY. 235 
 
 "^ As every man of fashionable gallantry 
 does to a lady of consequence/' 
 
 " ^ Pshaw ! that's not what I would ask ; 
 he surely paid a marked and pointed atten- 
 tion to Lady Lucy ?" 
 
 '' Not that I could perceive/^ Mary re- 
 plied : " he was no more particular to her, 
 than common politeness would dictate. If 
 there was any distinction, / shared his 
 notice most.'^ 
 
 '' Indeed ! you ! ha ! ha ! ha ! well, 
 that's inimitable ! you doubtless felt highly 
 flattered by his devotion to you ?^' 
 
 *' Not in the least, believe me." 
 
 " Nay : now. Miss Irwin, you certainly 
 are deceiving me ; for no young woman can 
 behold Sir George Dashington with indiffer^ 
 ence.'^ 
 
 " I assure you. Miss Emerson, I view Sir 
 George with total unconcern. Lady Lucy, 
 indeed " 
 
 " Ah ! what do you say ? what of her ? 
 Do pray tell me, my dear •" cried the Doc- 
 tor's daughter, wMth impatient anxiety. 
 
 " She seems to wish to engross his whole 
 attention ; she appears uneasy, unless he is 
 continually by her side." 
 
 '' I don't doubt it ; she is very partial to
 
 ii36 THE ACTRLSS OF 
 
 him ; I have heard as much ; indeed, I don't 
 much wonder at it : but I think, notwith- 
 standing, Sir George is a man of honour." 
 
 " I sincerely hope he will prove so," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " I have reason to beheve the report is 
 false about him and Lady Lucy ; he could 
 not be so ungenerous ; so base ; but, I de- 
 clare ; dear me ! ha ! ha ! hi! ! it is nothing 
 to me. Are you for the play to-night ?*^ 
 
 *' I am inclined to see this Zowc^ow ladi/ 
 to-night. She will, no doubt, draw a full 
 house." 
 
 " I wish I could go privately with you ; 
 but I shall write letters for the post ; and I 
 hate writing. So you think Sir George is a 
 man of honour.^* 
 
 " I should be sorry to think otherwise, on 
 your account." 
 
 " My account ! well, I declare, this is 
 insufferable ; ha ! ha ! ha \ Why you 
 would not dare to insinuate, that I have 
 any penchant for the wretch." 
 
 " Not for the world, if it offend you, Miss 
 Emerson.** 
 
 " When shall I see you again. Miss 
 Irwin ? ' 
 
 ^' When I return from the Castle," an-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 537 
 
 swered Mary, " I am going on Monday to 
 spend a week with the Countess, by her ex- 
 press desire/' 
 
 *' Upon my word, you are high in favour. 
 I hope it may continue. You'll see Sir 
 George possibly ?" 
 
 " Most probabii/, I have every reason 
 to suppose so." 
 
 " Indeed ; then 'tis by appoinhnent you 
 meet him ? So, so." 
 
 " By her Ladyship's appointment only. 
 My visit is to her alone, Miss Emerson ; be 
 assured." 
 
 '* Oh, certainly ; it don't concern me : 
 but on your return, you will let me hear all 
 you know about Sir George and Lady Lucy. 
 I shall depend on you." 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Emerson ;'^ and 
 Mary tired and teased with her questions, 
 proceeded to the theatre. 
 
 The house was very full, and the piece 
 went off with applause ; it was evident, 
 Miss Starrit was strongly supported. Lord 
 Brudenel, Lord Carrick, Sir Thomas Tur- 
 ton, and Lady Mary Minton, were all there ; 
 as was Lady Lucy, accompanied by Sir 
 George ; who was most particularly assidu- 
 ous in his devoirs to her little Ladyship,
 
 Q3S THE ACTRESS Oi 
 
 Mary sat wholly unobserved in the Mana- 
 ger's private box : where she could see round 
 the house, and be not noticed herself : about 
 the second scene in the second act, she ob- 
 served a lady enter, who, notwithstanding 
 her disguise, she discovered to be Miss 
 Emerson. She had come alone, and placed 
 herself in one of the upper boxes ; where she 
 had a full view of the lower tier, w here the 
 fashionable circle were assembled ; and Lady 
 Lucy appeared wholly inattentive to the 
 pla}^ but entirely enraptured with the pro- 
 found and visible addresses of Sir George 
 Dashington, who let all his noble friends 
 and the w orld see that he was the happy 
 favourite, who was to tcin the 200,000/. 
 prize. 
 
 Poor Mary felt for Miss Emerson, for 
 her restless agitation was not to be conceal- 
 ed ; and she secretly returned thanks to 
 Providence, that /^tr station in life precluded 
 such lofty view s, and removed her from the 
 torment of such heartless, but interested ad- 
 dresses. Alas! poor girl ! She little foresaw 
 the difficulties and dangers which surround- 
 ed, and was shortly to overwhelm her. 
 
 Mary was now convinced that it was 
 fashion which chiefly supported a performer,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 239 
 
 though merit formed the basis : that a few 
 leading persons can, if they please, raise a 
 thunder of applause, to echo through all 
 parts of the house : for the generality will 
 not give themselves the trouble of thinking, 
 and therefore, swim with the tide. " How 
 thankful then, ought I to be, to have secured 
 in my onset such distinguished friends : and 
 how circumspect must 1 be at all times to 
 preserve their good opinion : the loss of 
 which would sink me at once to the lowest 
 state of insignificance and contempt : far bet- 
 ter to have never received patronage than to 
 lose it. Favour once withdrawn no matter 
 from what cause, no merit, however transcen- 
 dent, can withstand : but the object must 
 " set^ like stars that fall ^ to rise no more,*' 
 These ideas, which she mentally ejaculat- 
 ed, filled her mind during the performance ; 
 she allowed Miss Starrit's talents were of the 
 first order ; and that they justified the voci- 
 ferous plaudits she received. She had a fine 
 voice; was a just declaimer, and had a per- 
 fect self-possession and knowledge of the 
 stage : but she thought her somewhat defi- 
 cient in pathos. She now perceived the 
 truth of that lady's observation, that the 
 London Stamp is alone sufficient to secure
 
 540 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 provincial approbation ; and that it must be 
 powerful friends, or some lucky incident 
 only, that can raise country performers above 
 the level of mediocrity, and cause them to be 
 noticed. 
 
 *' I blame not the London performers," 
 cried Mary, when she returned home, " for 
 endeavouring to make money, while they 
 are in the zenith of pubhc estimation, and 
 before their abilities become impaired : pub- 
 lic favour is very fluctuating. Miss Starrit 
 is now every body ; and I, perhaps, shall 
 find mysei^" forgotten, and lost in the blaze 
 of Londen fame. Another from town may 
 come, Jinci she be no more remembered! 
 When I remove from this situation, for I 
 cannot expect always to remain, I shall have 
 fresh friends to seek ; fresh faces, and dif- 
 ferent tempers to encounter : and though my 
 abilities should improve by practice and ex- 
 perience, I may not meet the same flat- 
 tering reception ; and many years may 
 elapse, ere I am thought worthy of a London 
 engagement. Yet, let me not despond : I 
 should be most wickedly ungrateful to the 
 all-protecting hand of Heaven, which has 
 hitherto supported and raised me such 
 friends: it would be extreme impiety in me
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 24-1 
 
 to doubt his goodness and protection, while 
 L seek it by humility and perseverance I" 
 With these reflections, the depression she 
 had suffered vanished, and cheerful hope 
 glowed in her countenance, beamed in her 
 lovely eyes, and sat smiling at her heart. 
 
 The next morning the whole town was 
 full of the praises of Miss Starrit : the pub- 
 lic print, that criterion of criticism, expatiated 
 largely on the Manager's liberality, in engag- 
 ing so eminent a performer to gratify the 
 public taste, and grace his boards : in short, 
 the very same string of compliments, and, if 
 possible, in more turgid expressions, were 
 applied now to Aer, as, a little time since» 
 were applied to Mary. Our Heroine smiled 
 with contempt at the bare-faced versatility 
 and venahty of the editor. " I am glad,** she 
 exclaimed, " I was not deceived by this 
 man's flattery, which is both erroneom^ as it 
 is bombastic and ridiculous.^' 
 
 On the Saturday evening, Mary appeared 
 for the third time in Lady Townley. The 
 house, though not an overflow, was very re« 
 spectably attended, and particularly by Lord 
 Brudenel, and the party which supported 
 Miss Starrit. This fashionable group paid 
 little attention to the play, unless when 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 \ 
 242 THE ACTRESS Ot 
 
 Mary's scenes were on ; then, indeed, they 
 turned round, and their glasses were applied. 
 Lord Carrick cried, " Bravo : very fair 
 indeed r and Lady Mary Minton was heard 
 to say, " A pretty woman ! and a very to- 
 lerable figure: where did this Manager pick, 
 her up ?" " 1 think," said Sir Thomas Tur- 
 ton, "she would pass muster in London." 
 
 Among the fashionables were Sir George 
 Dashington, and the Honourable William 
 Neville; with Colonel Jameson, Major 
 Martinet, and Lord Henry Augustus Whita- 
 ker, of the Hussars, The honourable little 
 gentleman was ext^eedindy vociferous, and 
 violently clamorous in his plaudits of poor 
 Mary ; and often injudiciously so : it was 
 very apparent he was considerably inebriated, 
 for he had dined with the officers, and ac- 
 companied them to the theatre. He had 
 made several attempts to be admitted behind 
 the scenes to speak to Mary ; but was pe- 
 remptorily refused, and he returned to the 
 boxes in a very boisterous and turbulent 
 manner. 
 
 As soon as Mary bad ended her part, and 
 was returning home ; the little beau met her 
 at the Stage door : he knew her, though she 
 was muffled up ; the servant was with her:
 
 THE PKESENT DAT. 24J 
 
 he would have seized our Heroine and 
 forced a salute, had not Sir George Dash- 
 ington dragged him away, and committed 
 him to the care of the officers : the Baronet 
 then insisted on seeing Mary to her lodg- 
 ings, to protect her from farther insult. She 
 thanked Sir George for his seasonable offer : 
 and as she proceeded home, the Baronet ex- 
 pressed to her his impatience to communi- 
 cate the matter of importance, which as 
 deeply concerned her as himself: but would 
 wait till he saw her at the Castle. When she 
 reached th^ door, he respectfully took his 
 leave. 
 
 M S
 
 544 THE ACTRESS OT 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 jVIary kept ruminating on the last words 
 of Sir George as he left her ; what could 
 this important secret be, which appertained^ 
 to her. and to himself.^ how were her con- 
 cerns applicable to him, or his to her 1 
 *^ Perhaps he wants me to break his in- 
 tended marriage with Lady Lucy to Miss 
 Emerson, whose passion is too apparent ibr 
 him not to notice. But, am I not a stranger, 
 as yet, to all parties ? Why then select me ? 
 Pho ! 'tis some ridiculous occurrence at the 
 theatre, or at some tavern or cotTee-house^ 
 wherein my name, as a public character per- 
 haps was mentioned, and Sir George took 
 up the cudgels : nothing else. These great 
 folks make importance of ^r?/jf(;,5f; having no 
 serious business to attend to." 
 
 Thus she argued ; but she was soon to be 
 undeceived. The behaviour of the httle 
 honourable gentleman, she attril)uted to the 
 effects of wine : his fulsome compliments 
 were too contemptible, for serious thought ;
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 245 
 
 and he durst not take liberties with her 
 while at the Castle, under the protection of 
 the Countess. She was determined, if his 
 folly led him so far, to quit the Castle, and 
 assign her reason to her Ladyship for so 
 doing. She wished the visit was over, for 
 though the Countess's behaviour to her was 
 the most tender and attentive ; and his Lord- 
 ship condescending to an unusual degree ; 
 yet the forced politeness of the young lady, 
 and her companion, Mrs. Marlow, who 
 mixed contempt with compliment, was irk- 
 some and painful. She dreaded the cox- 
 comical impertinence of young Neville, as 
 she would be loth to oflfend so near a relative 
 of her patroness : and from Sir George she 
 had no apprehensions, as his marriage was 
 now publicly talked of, and very shortly to 
 take place. 
 
 On Monday morning, Mary prepared for 
 going to the Castle, and laid out necessary 
 changes for the week. She was just send- 
 ing to the head inn for a post-chaise, when 
 the Countess's carriage drove to the door, 
 followed by a servant on horse-back, who de- 
 livered a note to Mary, saying, ' l nave o!> 
 ders to wait, Miss, till you are in readiness.^'
 
 S4'6 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Mary answered, she would be ready in a few 
 minutes ; and opened the seal, and read : 
 
 *' Countess Delafort's compliments to 
 Miss Irwin, has sent her carriage, and hopes 
 she shall have the pleasure of her company 
 all the week : as the next will be a busy one, 
 occupied with drawing marriage deeds and 
 settlements, previous to Lady Lucy's union 
 with Sir George Dashington/' 
 
 " So then,'' cried Mary, ' I have it,* as 
 Crabtree says, ^ from undoubted autho' 
 rity.^ Poor Miss Emerson, what will she 
 sat/ or do, when it takes place !" She did not 
 detain the carriage, but soon put her small 
 trunk in it ; alighted from it at the pri- 
 vate entrance, then tripped up the back 
 stairs to the Countesses suite of apart- 
 ments, and found her Ladyship in her dress- 
 ing-room. 
 
 *' You are welcome, my dear Miss Ir- 
 win,'' said her Ladyship. ^' I shall now have 
 some rational being to converse with : for 
 though Mrs. Marlow is a very sensible and 
 elegant woman, there is a degree of unneces- 
 sary satire in her conversation, I can readily 
 dispense with ; but Lady Lucy admires it 
 of all things ; and thinks there can be no
 
 niK PRESENT DAY. '24f7 
 
 mt without a little ill-nature ; in which opi- 
 nion, I by no means coincide." 
 
 '* I should b^ sorry to possess so danger- 
 ous a talent ; for your Ladyship will, I dare 
 say, agree with me, that a satirical vein 
 never yet gained a friend, but has lost many. 
 Persons in my public situation, may be 
 thought a fair mark for satirical wit, and 
 pointed ridicule," added our Heroine ; "hut 
 for us to retort, (however wounded our feel- 
 ings,) would be dangerous in the extreme, 
 and accounted arrogant presumption.^^ 
 
 *' I have pretty plainly hinted as much 
 to my daughter,'^ said the Countess, " as I 
 am not overpleased with her coldness to- 
 wards you. I expect to see an alteration 
 both in her conduct, and Mrs. Marlow's : 
 there is a want of delicacy, as well as feeling 
 in such behaviour, that is derogatory to our 
 own character ; and insupportable to others, 
 who cannot, ov 7mist not retahate, from a 
 supposed inferiority of condition." 
 
 " Lady Lucy's thoughts. Madam,'' said 
 Mary, " I suppose, are now wholly occu- 
 pied on the important chans^e she is about 
 to enter on." 
 
 " Her thoughts, Miss Irwin," returned 
 the Countess with a sigh, " are at all times
 
 948 THK ACTRESS OF 
 
 vapid ; and her temper not the most amia- 
 ble. Sir George, though elegant and accom- 
 phshed, a man of noble extraction, and the 
 first connexions, in possession of great, but 
 I fear nominal estates ; yet they are so dif- 
 ferent every way in their tastes and dispo- 
 sitions, that I tremble for their happiness. 
 Fortune will not compensate for the ab- 
 sence of domestic felicity ; it is a match I 
 never approved ; but for me to oppose my 
 Lord, would be a fruitless attempt. Sir 
 George is a strong ministerialist, and has 
 several boroughs in his gift ; he is likewise 
 a man of extensive political knowledge, 
 and a good speaker ; these are potent con- 
 siderations with the Earl/^ 
 
 " Sir George seems of a very amiable and 
 placid temper,^^ said Mary ; " and will, I 
 trust, make due allowance for any little 
 inequality of temper in Lady Lucy.^' 
 
 ^' Ah 1 my poor child,'* exclaimed the 
 Countess, "it is your simplicity or inexpe- 
 rience makes that observation ; but men, be- 
 lieve me, are, for the greater part, hi/po- 
 writes and deceivers ; and you, my dear, 
 possessed of such personal and mental attrac- 
 tions, cannot be too guarded against their 
 artful protestations ; for great indeed is the
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 24-9 
 
 danger, to which your profession unfortu- 
 nately exposes you. '^ 
 
 The behaviour of the EarFs daughter and 
 her friend Mrs. Marlow, was less frigid to- 
 wards Mary, and in the Countesses presence 
 even bordered on civihty. The honourable 
 nephew was very troublesome, with affected 
 airs, and ridiculous overstrained compliments, 
 which pained Lady Delafort on Mary^s ac- 
 count, and vexed her at the egregious absur- 
 dity he displayed, to the no small amuse- 
 ment of her noble daughter and Mrs. Mar- 
 low, who enjoyed the visible distress of 
 Mary, while they complimented her on the 
 power of working miracles, or being in pos- 
 session of the magnetic influence of the 
 loadstone, by attracting the attention of one 
 hitherto impenetrable^ and totally absorbed 
 by the contemplation of his own sweet person. 
 
 But the drift of this young honourable 
 gentleman's views towards our Heroine 
 will be fully seen, by a letter he wrote to 
 one of his ver}'' honourable associates. 
 
 '' The Honourable William Neville^ to the 
 
 Honourable Charles Bruton,^* 
 ** My dear Charles, 
 
 " In my last I informed you of a very 
 M 5
 
 3j60 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 charming young girl, who has appeared at 
 our theatre. She is universally admired, 
 not only for her personal attractions, but 
 for her brilliant talents : of the latter I am 
 neither judge nor critic ; but I must be blind 
 to the influence of beauty, if I were insen- 
 sible of her power and the effect of such 
 charms ; moreover, if she was less attrac- 
 tive, she is at present all the fashion, and 
 that's enough for me. She is a seducing 
 little witch, and very modest and reserved^ 
 forsooth. The more difficulty, the more /io- 
 nour ; and I am determined to have her, if 
 it, cost me half my fortune. Marriage^ you 
 know, is out of the question, for simple as 
 I may be, Tm not such a fool as to make 
 an actress bone of my bone, and flesh of 
 my flesh, because some wise-^acres have 
 been mad enough to set the example ; no, 
 no; catch me at that, and Til give you leave 
 to roast me and eat me afterwards. 
 
 '' My precious aunt, the Countess, has 
 taken a very great fancy to her, and has 
 thrown her directly in my way, by inviting 
 her to the Castle. She, it seems, is tole- 
 rably well-descended, and her mother was 
 formerly an acquaintance of my noble rela»
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 95\ 
 
 tive. Ami not right, my boy, to secure her, 
 when so fair an opportunity is before me, 
 test some sly poacher should step in between, 
 and seize the game ? But the sly puss is 
 extremely shy, and avoids me, doubtless 
 only to draw me in, and hook me. The 
 vanity of these actresses, when once ap- 
 plauded, there is no bound to. She is 
 certainly enough to tempt a man less know- 
 ing and more in love, to such an imprudent 
 step ; but I value my person at nothing 
 short of fifty thousand^ a small consideration 
 for the loss of liberty. I only wait for a 
 proper opportunity to put the question to 
 her ; when after a few squeamish airs, and 
 affected prudery, I expect she'll drop into 
 my arms ; for, vanity apart, am I not idol- 
 ized by the belles of fashion ? Are not all 
 the dowagers of- quality exhibiting their 
 daughters in my view, in the hope of catch- 
 ing me ? Am I not already the talk of the 
 town, the criterion of fashion ; the styhsh 
 lad of ton ; and want nothing now but a 
 stylish mistress to make me the very acme 
 of admiration ; and who so fit to give eclat ^ 
 as an actress, whom all the world adores ^ 
 By all my hopes, I shall be the envy of the 
 beau monde for monopolizing such a prodigy.
 
 ^69 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 '*' I expect to be finely lectured by my lady 
 ,auiat, for my seductive powers, so much 
 the better ; the more noise and stir it makes 
 the more my character for gallantry is es- 
 tablished, and nothing will then be wanting 
 to give the finishing stroke to it, but an 
 affair of crim, con, with some dear friend's 
 noble rib. 
 
 '^ I am in the greatest distress imaginable, 
 for some Imperial Tooth-powder, Macassar 
 Oil, and Italian Rouge ; there is none in this 
 vile town fit for a gentleman to use ; do 
 pray, allow your valet to get me some, at 
 Jessamy^s in Bond-street ; and let him also 
 call at my hair-dressers, and order for me, a 
 fresh set of whiskers vc^ith elastic springs ; 
 at the same time he may tell Jenkins to send 
 me down a pair of those stays that have 
 lately appeared with patent braces ; by so 
 doing, you will eternally oblige me. Wishing 
 you every success at the next Newmarket 
 meeting, 
 
 " I am, 
 
 " Yours, my dear boy, 
 " most truly, 
 " WiLLAM Neville. 
 
 ** P. S. Give my love to your Charlotte. ^^ 
 
 During Mary's stay at the Castle, several
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 255 
 
 Visitors would occasionally drop in to pay 
 their respects to the Countess, and their 
 gratulations to Lady Lucy on her approach- 
 ing nuptials ; at these times Mary would 
 withdraw either to her own chamber next to 
 Lady Delafort's, or to the library, when 
 she knew the Earl and the gentlemen were 
 not there. One morning she was sitting 
 there, and her thoughts wholly intent on 
 the book she was reading, when the Ho- 
 nourable Mr. Neville, who had watched 
 her entrance, came in unperceived ; he was 
 presently close b}^ her side, at which she 
 started and arose. 
 
 " Don't go, my angel !^^ cried he, with a 
 woeful and ridiculous grimace, " for I have 
 the most pathetic tale to unfold; the most 
 tragical affair in nature to disclose." 
 
 " Bless me V' cried Mary, with affected 
 surprise ; " what can this tragical event be, 
 Sir. Have you broke your otto bottle of 
 roses, or " 
 
 " Oh! worse, if possible, than that,^^ 
 the coxcomb exclaimed : " the pathetic dis- 
 tresses of my own bosom, is the sole object 
 of my thoughts ; for you must know, my 
 dear creature, I have the inexpressible mis- 
 fbrtu?i€ to love you. Heigh ho V
 
 254 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " That is indeed a misfortune^'* cried 
 Mary laughing, for it was impossible for the 
 most serious gravity to resist a smile at his 
 ludicrous attitude and gesture. '' Pray, how 
 does it affect you ? The symptoms are 
 not very violent, I presume ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, they are prodigiously alarn>- 
 ing ; I sleep not, I eat not, and you so dis- 
 tract my imagination, that positively I can- 
 not give my direct orders to- my tailor, who 
 calls and calls in vain for my decision on 
 what colour my next coat is to be ; for you 
 are not insensible, that my taste is univer- 
 sally allowed ; and that on my determina^ 
 tion, the poor devil will depend for fresh' 
 orders from the fashionable w^orld :; so^ yoti 
 see the double cruelty you commit, by 
 avoiding me ; you occasion my despair, and 
 the tailor's ruin ; speak, my goddess ; speak, 
 am I to remain inconsolable ? or, will you 
 smile upon me ?^' 
 
 ** Smile r* returned Mary. " I must 
 smile, whenever you appear ; it is impos- 
 sible to resist it.'^ 
 
 " A million of thanks, my sweet girl,*' 
 exclaimed the little beau, '* then you will 
 be mine !" and he clasped her in his arms. 
 
 Thunderstruck at her own imprudent le-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 2J5 
 
 vity, and dreading his familiarity and folly, 
 that could not perceive she had been laugh- 
 ing at, instead of encouraging his addresses, 
 she hastily disengaged herself, and retired 
 to the other end of the library, when cast- 
 ing an indignant look at the astonished cox- 
 comb, she in a severe tone said, " You 
 do not surely mean to insult me. Sir ?'' 
 ' " Insult I Insult indeed" cried he, pro- 
 voked at the repulse he had met. " I con- 
 sider the offer of my love, a compliment^ 
 that Vi^ould makcvmany women of distinc- 
 tion vain ; you should recollect my birth^ 
 my fortune, and grand connexions ; and that 
 I possess no common attractions !" 
 
 '* Most honourable Sir," said Mary, with 
 sarcastic severity ; " 1 am loth to offend any 
 one, much less the near relative of my be- 
 nefactress ; but I must now withdraw, hop- 
 ing you will not force me to seek protection 
 from your aunt, by explaining your con- 
 duct, which I most assuredly shall, if you 
 ever offer me any compliments of this kind 
 again. I reject them all whatsoever, and 
 shall take myself out of your sublime pre- 
 sence immediately." Saying this, she re- 
 treated to the door, and was on the point of 
 opening it, when Sir George Dashington
 
 256 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 made his appearance : " You seem flurried, 
 
 Miss Irwin ?" and he cast an anxious and 
 
 enquiring look on her, and then at young 
 
 Neville. 
 
 " I hope no one has presumed to '* 
 
 " Nothing of consequence," answered 
 
 Mary. " Where is the Countess ?*' 
 
 " She wishes to see you," returned Sir 
 
 George. 
 
 She was obliged to re-cross the library to 
 
 the opposite folding doors, before she could 
 reach that part of the Castle her Ladyship 
 had appropriated to herself; on opening 
 them, she had like to have stumbled over 
 Lady Lucy's waiting-maid, who pretended 
 she had been sent to seek her. Mary af- 
 fected to believe this, but was conscious the 
 girl had been listening to the honourable 
 little gentleman's declaration. Afraid to in- 
 form the Countess, yet certain the maid 
 would relate to Lady Lucy, all that she had 
 heard, with, perhaps, many additions, she 
 was at a loss how to act ; but contenting 
 herself with the consolation of committing 
 no intentional impropriety, she resolved 
 patiently to abide the result. 
 
 She now studiously avoided young Ne- 
 ville, whoj notwithstanding his repulse,
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 257 
 
 pertinaciously persisted in seeking every 
 opportunity to urge his suit. She began to 
 perceive a disrespectful and contemptuous 
 sneer in the daughter's countenance, when- 
 ever she had occasion to address her. Sir 
 George seemed to watch the honourable 
 nephew narrowly, before company, and par- 
 ticularly in Lady Lucy*s presence. His con- 
 duct towards our Heroine, was politely 
 distant and reserved ; but if ever he chanced 
 to meet her alone, he bad the most insinu- 
 ating softness in his eyes and manner pos- 
 sible, and several involuntary sighs would 
 escape him. Twenty times was he on the 
 point of breaking silence and disclosing the 
 important secret that appeared to rend his 
 bosom ; he would take her hand with that 
 intent ; when pausing awhile, he would let 
 it go, and rising up, exclaimed, " No, I 
 ■cannot, must not here ; I must take some 
 other opportunity.'^ He then would pace the 
 room vnth agitation, and instantly retire. 
 
 Mary now began to be seriously alarmed ; 
 she could no longer mistake his intention, 
 and she was shocked at his duplicity. Known 
 to be engaged to Lady Lucy, and considered 
 by the family as her affianced husband, 
 she was struck with horror at his conduct ;
 
 2^8 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 it is true, he had not explained himself, but 
 his looks, his eyes, and visible agitation 
 when he spoke to her in private, betrayed 
 the guilty secret. How did she wish her 
 stay was expired ; for every hour, now, 
 while she remained, teemed, she thought, 
 with danger and alarm ; and she was now 
 doubly anxious, that the marriage should 
 be solemnized ; hoping, that the alliance 
 would entirely engross his attention, and 
 drive her from his thoughts. Simple and 
 inexperienced girl ! she little knew the 
 principles of modern^ refined gallantry ; that 
 tnatrimony^ so far from being an impedi- 
 ment and a bar, was, on the contrary, an 
 additional spur to dishonourable and vicioiis 
 pursuits. 
 
 At length the hour of her departure from 
 the Castle arrived ; and taking leave of the 
 Countess, she left that ancient and magnifi- 
 cent structure with much more satisfaction 
 than she entered it. She observed that Lady 
 Lucy was much pleased, and ardently 
 wished her gone ; not so, Sir George. The 
 Honourable Mr. Neville now seemed highly 
 affronted, and scorned even to see her to the 
 carriage ; and returned her salute, at leaving, 
 only with a distant bow : while Sir George
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^69 
 
 seized her reluctant hand, and led her down 
 stairs. Though the honourable little beau 
 showed this apparent slight, it was evident, 
 he viewed Sir George's attention to Mary 
 with a malignant and a jealous eye ; the 
 coldness of her behaviour to him, wrought a 
 change in his conduct, for fools are ever in 
 extremes ; and he attributed her rejection 
 of his addresses, to her secret partiality for 
 Sir George. Tortured with this idea, he 
 began to hate the Baronet : while, one 
 moment he detested Mary, and the next, 
 swore he would obtain her, at the risk of 
 his life and fortwie ; for he was as spiteful 
 and as capricious as a monkey, and as full 
 of mischief to the full. AYith this view he 
 began to give hints that the Baronet's heart 
 was otherwise engaged than to his cousin, 
 a union with whom he only sought for her 
 immense fortune. In this he was not mis- 
 taken, it required no conjuror to discover 
 the truth, it was pretty evident to every 
 one, but the Lady herself ; whose vanity 
 led her to suppose him deeply enamoured ; 
 while she was highly flattered with the ad- 
 dresses of so handsome and accomplished a 
 man. She, therefore, eagerly consented to
 
 ^60 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 bestow her hand ; for her hearty if she had 
 any, was hard and insensible ; not so her 
 pride, which was excessive. 
 
 These hints, which this young ape of 
 mischief strove to disseminate, were com- 
 mmiicated to Lady Lucy's maid, whom he 
 had won over to his interest, by corrupting 
 her principles every way. This girl was 
 jealous of Mary, on his account, which had 
 induced her to watch both : being naturally 
 officious, and willing to curry favour with 
 her noble mistress ; this artful young woman 
 inveighed bitterly against poor Mary, that 
 she had designs both on the Baronet and 
 Mr. Neville. Lady Lucy listened, and 
 readily accredited what she was too willing 
 to believe ; and Mary had no sooner left the 
 Castle, than she and her friend Mrs. Mar- 
 low, put every engine at work to turn the 
 Countess against our Heroine, but as yet 
 with no effect ; as Lady Delafort was no 
 stranger to their malignant dispositions. 
 
 Mary had no sooner reached home, than 
 Mrs. Howard informed her, that there was 
 a letter for her on her dressing-table, which 
 the two-penny post brought, the day before 
 her return. Accordingly, when she went
 
 tilE PRESENT DAY. 26 1 
 
 Up Stairs, she broke the seal, and found it 
 was from Sir George Dashington. Sus- 
 pecting the contents, her virtuous pride took 
 the alarm, and she was going indignantly to 
 commit it to the flames ; when curiosity re- 
 strained her hand, and with trembling agi- 
 tation she began to read as follows : 
 
 •* Sir George Dashington to Miss Irwin/^ 
 
 ** Madam, 
 
 " Driven to despair, by your studied 
 care to avoid me, and finding myself inca- 
 pable, personally to explain the agonies I 
 at present endure ; I cannot desist from 
 pouring out those feelings on paper, a dull, 
 insensible method, truly to depict the dis- 
 tracted state of my mind, 1 shall by so 
 doing unburden the torture with which my 
 bosom is loaded ; and I trust, though it may 
 for a time, excite your surprise and indigna- 
 tion ; yet surely the mild compassion, that 
 beams in those lovely eyes, will commiserate 
 the unhappy man, who owes his present 
 wretchedness solely to you, the innocent 
 cause of all his suffering. 
 
 " Compelled by cruel circumstances, by 
 heavy pecuniary embarrassments, contracted 
 through thoughtless extravagance, and asso-^
 
 962 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 elating with designing men at a very early 
 age, before my judgment was matured ; my 
 fortune has been so materially injured, that 
 nothing but an advantageous marriage can 
 possibly retrieve my affairs. Thus situated, 
 I paid my addresses to Lady Lucy, the 
 only child of the wealthy Earl Delafort, 
 whose immense and accumulated property 
 goes to this only child, with the exception 
 of the family estate ; which descends to a 
 distant branch : this estate is no more than 
 12,000/. per annum: all the rest, amounting 
 to 18,000/. a year, will, at theEarFs decease, 
 become mine by marriage^ with the imme- 
 diate possession of 2,000/. a year, and cash 
 to the amount of 250,000/. Every thing is 
 settled, and our union is to take place, the 
 week after next. If fortune could render a 
 man happy, 1 may be envied, as doubtless I 
 shall be, by the mercenary minds of some 
 competitors. I shall be relieved wholly 
 from my embarrassments ; the ancient es- 
 tates of my family will be rescued, and 
 flourish in their original splendour. This 
 consideration only induced me to offer my 
 hand^ for love tovt^ards such a woman is 
 impossible ; thus, though far from being 
 blessed, I was not miserable in contemplating
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 26.1 
 
 the approaching union. You appeared^ and 
 all was blighted ! 
 
 " The acquisition of riches, honours, all 
 now appeared light, compared with the 
 fohcity of your society ! I bewailed my 
 situation ; I cursed that poverty that must for 
 ever bar my happiness on honourable terms. 
 What was to be done ? To smother my pas- 
 sion I resolved ; but every time I beheld 
 those features, the mild kistre of those eyes ; 
 when I saw your accomplishments both of 
 mind and body, is it a wonder, that my 
 resolves gave way, a-nd yielded to the deli- 
 rium of love-inspiring hope ?— Oh ! Mary, 
 beloved and adored ! damp it not, but call 
 me to life by a heavenly disposition in my 
 favour! Your gentle nature sure must pity me; 
 let then that pity remove the yoke of merci- 
 less prudery. \V hy do you start ? the opinion 
 of an imfeehng world, and its cold censures, 
 can never be w^eighed. by solid reason, 
 against the ardour of affection so disinte- 
 rested as mine ; and the delight of making: 
 him happy, and restoring peace to his mind, 
 whose existence must take its colour from 
 your smiles. The marriage chain, when 
 forged by avarice and convenience, can only 
 bind those cold and sordid minds, who are
 
 264 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 incapable of the exalted raptures of reci- 
 procal affection. The liberal part of so- 
 ciety are more generous^ and applaud those 
 noble souls, who soar above vulgar ties 
 and prejudices, and dare be happy, in spite 
 of empty forms and ceremony. Miserable 
 man that^I am, v^ould I, amid this torture of 
 mind, hurt your feelings, alarm and wound 
 your exquisite sensibility ? Oh ! no ! not 
 for worlds, I reverence your virtues, I 
 would not for millions insult your defence- 
 less condition : but I know you have a 
 heart and understanding of a superior turn 
 of thinking: let not resentment then har- 
 bour in that gentle breast against one, whose 
 misery springs from you^ and urges him to 
 make a desperate effort to obtain your pity. 
 My hearty my fortune^ and my life are 
 yours : do not, in mercy^ spurn me from 
 you ! But what avail my plaints ! Cold, ob- 
 durate girl ! tied down by frigid rules, and 
 ideal rectitude, you can lacerate that bosom 
 which only beats for you ; and with apathy, 
 behold me sink the victim of incurable de- 
 spair ! 
 
 " For the sake of the familv to whom 
 you are so much indebted, I implore your 
 silence on a subject so replete with ruin and
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. ^6S 
 
 tiiihappiness, if once disclosed. When the 
 marriage takes place, I can put you in a 
 station, secure from the frowns of capricious 
 public favour, in permanent fehcity and 
 abundance^ if you deign to Hsten and ac- 
 cept my suit. Every settlement you can 
 desire, shall be made, every plan you can 
 suggest shall be complied w^ith. Name your 
 own lawyers, and I, and my whole fortune 
 are at your disposal. Oh then ! what tran- 
 sports should we thus experience ! My ima- 
 gination hurries beyond the earth, into the 
 regions of bliss unutterable ! Oh ! Mary ! 
 dearest, and loveliest of thy sex! free me 
 from the tortures of suspense, lest I commit 
 some outrage on myself ; and leave a lasting 
 monument of the cruelty of your inflexible 
 nature. 
 
 " Your^s eternally, 
 
 " George Dashington.'' 
 
 Mary lost no time in answering this insi- 
 dious and unparalleled affront : it required no 
 deliberation, its meaning was too plain, 
 though cloaked by sophistry and an ap- 
 peal to the passions. Mistaken man ! nur- 
 tured in luxury : his principles destroyed by 
 early depravity, and confirmed in vicious 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 Q66 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 pursuits by easy conquest and an acquain- 
 tance only with the worthless part of the 
 sex, he supposed every woman assailable ; 
 and unfortunately his successful experience 
 hitherto confirmed him in this opinion. 
 
 Marys Answer to Sir George Dashington. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 *' Though deeply wounded by the 
 ^ross avowal of your sentiments towards me ; 
 though stung to the soul with the just in- 
 dignation of an honest bosom ; I conde- 
 scend to assure you, worthless as you have 
 dared to think me, that I have a mind above, 
 far above the pleasure of revenge, even on 
 my worst of enemies ; the destroyer of my 
 integrity, the deliberate assassin of my in- 
 nocence and peace ! My poverty and my 
 dependent state have thus led you to sup- 
 pose, that the snares of wealth would lure 
 me to inevitable ruin ; nay, more shocking 
 still, to the horrors of adultery, I do not, 
 from a false delicacy, strive to gloss the na- 
 ture of the crime you would seduce me to 
 commit: but know. Sir, I can enjoy my 
 scanty meal, produced by laborious indus- 
 try, more happily than all the luxuries the 
 most unbounded fortune could heap upon
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 96? 
 
 ine. Innocence now gives tranquillity to 
 my mind, while a remorseful conscience 
 would embitter all your vainly boasted de- 
 lights. 
 
 " Presumptuous, treacherous, and sinful 
 man ! have you banished that internal mo- 
 nitor ? Have you no dread of futurity ? 
 Though now endowed with youth, with 
 health, and flourishing strength ; in the hope 
 of wealth immense : a single week^ nay, a sin- 
 gle day^ may number you with the dust; 
 cut off in the midst of your atrocious deeds, 
 and sent to your account, " tcith all your im- 
 perfectio7is on your head,^* 
 
 " Perjidious, impious wretch ! you would 
 swear eternal faith at the sacred altar of your 
 God ! to the woman who there gives you 
 herself^ and abundance; then, ingrate as 
 you are, abandon her to perpetual anguish : 
 your wife^ whom you had solemnly vowed 
 to cherish ; for what P To gratify a brutal, 
 transitory passion. What have I done, 
 just Heaven, to become the object of such 
 base attack ? Why do I bear the form of 
 woman, when my insults call for the aveng- 
 ing hand of mail, to punish the foul tempter 
 of my honour ! 
 
 " For the sake of my benefactress, I will 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 be silent on a subject so replete with dis- 
 tress ; but on a second provocation, will un- 
 fold the dreadful tale of your deceitful trea- 
 chery ; which imposes, on an innocent and 
 noble family, and would render me so truly 
 wretched, and despicable to myself. On 
 yourself^ Sir, depends the silence you im- 
 plore ; my word is given, and I will never, 
 unless provoked, depart from it. Seize the 
 golden prize you so much covet : the voice 
 of her whom you have treated with such un- 
 merited insolence, will never wrest it from 
 
 you. 
 
 " Despising the author of her indignities 
 too much, to sully her breath with the repeti- 
 tion of his villainies, she hopes to remain, in 
 proud contempt, and virtuous abhorrence, 
 " The poor, but Aappy, 
 
 " Mary Irwin. ^' 
 
 Our Heroine, now, perfectly satisfied with 
 the step she had taken, folded it up, and ad- 
 dressed it to the Baronet, at Delafort Castle, 
 well knowings he would receive it next morn- 
 ing, when the servant called at the office for 
 letters. She put it in herself, unwilling the 
 direction should be known to come from her. 
 
 She then sat down, and wrote a long let-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 269 
 
 ter to the worthy Mrs. Forester ; wherein 
 she gave an interesting detail of all the oc- 
 currences that had lately befallen her. She 
 likewise inclosed Sir George's letter to her, 
 and a transcript of her own in answer ; 
 begging in the most earnest manner the af- 
 fectionate and salutary counsel of her second 
 mother, and the pious advice of her good 
 friend Mr. Percy. On their experience and 
 long tried esteem and regard, she now relied 
 in this critical and delicate emergency : for 
 she was aware, it would require no common 
 share of prudence and foresight, to steer 
 clear from those snares, and injurious re- 
 ports, which might stab her fair fame, and 
 ruin her in the public estimation. She 
 opened her whole heart to the inspection of 
 her invaluable monitress ; imploring her 
 guidance, and lamenting her own weakness 
 and incapability, to avoid the dangers she 
 dreaded, without the aid of tried experience : 
 promising an implicit obedience to every in- 
 junction, she and her reverend friend might 
 deem necessary to recommend. 
 
 Having thus eased her mind, she felt her- 
 self considerably relieved from the flurry and 
 anxiety she had for the last week undergone. 
 Though she valued the esteem and patronage
 
 570 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 of the Countess ; she perceived it would be 
 difficult to retain it ; for she could expect no 
 friend at the Castle now, but her ; and what 
 disappointment^ and malevolence might work, 
 her fearful apprehension presented in dis- 
 tressing colours : but she had, as yet^ no 
 conception of the unjust treatment, she was 
 unhappily soon to experience.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Xn about a fortnight the marriage of Lady 
 Lucy and Sir George was solemnized. The 
 festivities at the Castle on this occasion 
 continued for several days ; all the nobihty 
 and gentry for miles round, called to pay 
 their congratulations on this happy event. 
 A grand ball was announced, and cards of 
 invitation sent to every respectable, family. 
 Dr. Emerson and his family were not for- 
 gotten. Mary among others shared the 
 Countess's attention, for she received a note 
 from that Lady, expressing a wish for her 
 presence, as she intended to introduce her 
 to some noble friends, who might be service- 
 able to her hereafter. Our Heroine excused 
 herself and pleaded indisposition ; for it was 
 her fixed determination to avoid the Castle, 
 w^hile Sir George remained there, as he was 
 become detestable in her eyes ; and little 
 as her esteem for his bride was, she could 
 not bear to sec the child of her noble
 
 ^7^ JIHE ACTRESS 0^ 
 
 patroness, the dupe of that base man's mer- 
 cenary conduct. 
 
 But her decHning the invitation brought 
 another note from the Countess, couched in 
 cooler terms, viz. 
 
 " Unless Miss Irwin means to justify 
 some reports which have very recently 
 reached Lady Delafort^s ears, she will not 
 surely withhold her personal congratulations 
 on the important event, which has taken 
 place in her family/' 
 
 '* So !" exclaimed Mary, " my enemies 
 have begun already ; if I don^t go, I shall 
 confirm the Countess in her suspicions, in- 
 jurious, doubtless, to my character ; yet, 
 what have I to dread ? Have I not acted 
 with propriety ? according to the dictates 
 of prudence and of honour ? — Yes, go I 
 loill; and personally face those malevolent 
 slanderers, whoever they may be, or what- 
 ever they may insinuate. 
 
 With this determination, she was pre- 
 paring to set out, when to her surprise, she 
 heard a knock at her room-door, and Miss 
 Emerson entered in strong emotion. 
 
 " So, Sir George and Lady Lucy are 
 married !^' cried she. " Credulous fool ! to
 
 THE PRESENT DAY, S73 
 
 be blinded by my partiality so long; but 
 ril unfold all his deceptive arts ; Til prove 
 to his bride, what a villain she has taken to 
 her arms. Would you believe it, Miss 
 Irwin, it was but two days before this union, 
 that he swore eternal constancy to me. V\\ 
 expose him to the world.'* 
 
 " By so doing, Miss Emerson," returned 
 Mary, *' you would only expose yourself, not 
 injure him: take my advice, treat him as 
 he deserves, with merited contempt." 
 
 " I cannot,'' she rephed, almost choaked 
 with indignation ; " too well he knows I 
 cannot ; I wish I could ; but Til go, yes, Til 
 go, and wring his heart with my presence." 
 
 " You will, I fear, but agonize your own; 
 for he has no heart to wring.^' 
 
 " What ! do you think his bride is pos- 
 sessed of his affections ?" 
 
 " No, certainly — I mean, that he who 
 can transfer his heart so easily, and so sud- 
 denly, from one object to perhaps half a 
 dozen, never had a heart to bestow.^' 
 
 " I beheve you. Miss Irwin. Most cruelly 
 have I been deceived : not till he was secure 
 of her did he forsake me ; my 10,000/. was 
 an object to him ; it was in my own posses- 
 sion : and I, like an idiot,, advanced him 
 
 N 6
 
 274- THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 5,000/, on promise to wed me in a month ; 
 for ; no, I cannot <- ■ ■" 
 
 " Nay, now indeed, you are to be 
 pitied," said Mary, with much concern, " for 
 so generous, yet so imprudent an act of 
 affection. Have you no vouchers, or secu- 
 rity for the sum ?" 
 
 *' None whatever, but his honour, and 
 that he has forfeited by this marriage. For- 
 feited his solemn sacred oath. Oh! money! 
 what perjuries dost thou cause. But to- 
 morrow evening will be the ball. Pll go, 
 all life and spirits. He shall see, he shall 
 not triumph over me. Farewell, I cannot 
 stop.'^ And away she hurried in evident 
 distraction. 
 
 Mary now proceeded to the Castle ; it 
 being the day before the grand ball, that she 
 might have an opportunity of seeing the 
 Countess uninterrupted by visitors, she 
 thought ; and be able to form some idea of 
 the reports spread to her disadvantage ; 
 her compliments being once paid on the 
 occasion, she concluded, would be all that 
 was required ; and she would then, if pos- 
 sible, get excused from attending the bril- 
 liant assembly. 
 
 When she arrived, not without a palpi-
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. "-276 
 
 tating heart, she sent up her respects, that 
 she had come, by the Countess's request ; 
 while waiting in one of the parlours, Lady 
 Lucy's maid saw her, and cast a sly and 
 malicious smile as slie passed her ; pre- 
 sently the Countess's bell rang, and she was 
 ushered up stairs. 
 
 Lady Delafort received her with a com- 
 placent benignity, and pointed to a chair. 
 Mary seated herself in silence, a pause 
 ensued ; the Countess viewed her atten- 
 tively, but our poor Heroine met her scru- 
 tinizing eye with a conscious firmness and 
 a modest serenity. Lady Delafort at length 
 addressed her : 
 
 " 1 am happy you are come. Miss 
 Irwin, as your appearance will remove some 
 unfavourable impressions which have been 
 indirectly hinted, and which, I sincerely 
 befieve and trust are without the smallest 
 foundation. Had you absented yourself, how- 
 ever I might wish to advocate your cause, 
 it would be useless to convince either Lady 
 Lucy or the Earl of the falsity which has 
 been insinuated in their hearing." 
 
 " Believe me. Madam," returned Mary, 
 " none can more sincerely rejoice than I do,
 
 S7<) THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 at any event which tends to Lady Lucy^s 
 fehcity. May this uiiion prove lasting and 
 happy ! May Sir George deserve the high 
 honour he has received, by every affectionate 
 return ; but for me to intrude among the 
 number of strangers of noble birth and high 
 distinction upon this solemn occasion, I 
 naturally thought would be deemed pre- 
 sumption intolerable, in one of my humble 
 profession : that alone, Lady Delafort, has 
 hitherto prevented me." 
 
 " I approve your caution," said the 
 Countess ; " but I confess I did wish per- 
 sonally to introduce you to some distin- 
 guished friends, who, in my absence, or 
 where next you move, might equally coun- 
 tenance and befriend you ; but this can be 
 done by letters of recommendation, which 
 1 shall provide. But inform me candidly, 
 Miss IrAvin, has my nephew Neville, had 
 any private interviews with you at the Cas- 
 tle, or elsewhere ?" 
 
 *' He once surprised me, Madam, when 
 reading alone in the library, would have 
 taken liberties, perhaps, as he talked in his 
 usual style, but I repulsed his freedom. 
 This Sir George knows."
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 277 
 
 " I have been told, bi^i not by Arm, that 
 you met him by appointment there, and 
 that you encouraged his addresses; nay, 
 more, that you have allowed Sir George 
 Dashington to take your hand, and press it, 
 at various times ; but I cannot, will not, 
 believe you capable of such conduct/^ 
 
 *' Oh ! Lady Delafort," exclaimed Mary, 
 *' how can an unprotected female escape, 
 w^hen the most innocent and common civi- 
 lities admit of such vile constructions ? Oh ! 
 why did I ever enter these hospitable gates ! 
 why did you ever honour me with your pa- 
 tronage and favour ; if I am to be subjected 
 to suspicions, the most injurious to my 
 fame, and be marked out as a base ungrate- 
 ful wretch, who would entrap an inconsi- 
 derate youth, or encourage a married man 
 
 to alienate his plighted faith — • ^* 
 
 The Countess was going to reply, 
 when Sir George Dashington entered, and 
 said he was exceedingly sorry to intrude, but 
 hearing Miss Irwin was arrived, he took 
 this opportunity of asking her before the 
 face of her Ladyship, if whenever he saw 
 her, he, so far from taking any freedom, did 
 not behave with the most delicate reserve.
 
 2/8 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 and distant respect ?'^ and he cast a look at 
 Mary, which reminded her of her promise. 
 
 Mary rephed in the affirmative. 
 
 " Your nephew, Madam,^^ continued 
 Sir George, " is exceedingly troublesome, 
 and knowing this young lady to be here, is 
 waiting to see her. I inform both your 
 Ladyship and her of this, that she may 
 avoid his teazing importunities." Sir George 
 bowed and retired. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, the Coun- 
 tess spoke : — " I am sorry to hear my ne- 
 phew makes himself so truly absurd ; and 
 doubly sorry- am I, Miss Irwin, to wound 
 a mind like your's ; for, whatever the silly 
 boy's notions may be, it is necessary he 
 should enter into an union with one, whose 
 descent is equal to his own. I allow your 
 birth to be respectable, but existing circum- 
 stances, (you'll excuse me,) render a mar- 
 riage with you, far from desirable. Beautt/^ 
 sense, sweetness of temper, and accomplish- 
 ments, all sound very prettily, but are not 
 sufficient for the heir of a noble house ; and 
 I should hold myself highly reprehensible 
 were I directly or indirectly to overlook a 
 tendency to disobedience in our ward ; for
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 279 
 
 connexion among persons of rank, is every 
 thing/' 
 
 Mary assured her Ladyship, she was 
 equally averse to the passion of the Ho- 
 nourable William Neville, as she could be ; 
 and, perhaps with more spirit than pru- 
 dence, declared, his person and manners 
 were so disagreeable to her, that a sceptre 
 could not bribe her to become his wife. 
 
 The Countess smiled at her warmth, and 
 shaking her head, cried, " riches and a title^ 
 my dear girl, have melted harder hearts ; or 
 we should not behold lovelmess and youth 
 linked to age and deformity so frequently as 
 we do. William is very flighty and capri- 
 cious ; and in the gay circles at Bath^ will 
 forget his little actress ; yes, yes, 1 hope it 
 is not a lasting impression ; you must at all 
 events discourage him, or you forfeit my 
 protection for ever ; but, though I have no 
 desire for your entrance into our family, I 
 have too great a regard for yourself and your 
 late mother, to see you yield to the snares, 
 which youthful ardour, wealth, or power 
 might lay for you, without being most sen- 
 sibly hurt and grieved. You have every 
 promise of doing well in your profession, 
 and with prudence may in time be united to
 
 280 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 some decent respectable man, in a reputable 
 "way ; and this should be the utmost of your 
 ambition, and what I heartily wish may be 
 your lot/^ 
 
 Lady Delafort had scarcely done speak- 
 ing, when Lady Lucy entered ; her face 
 flushed, and her voice almost inarticulate 
 with passion. '' I thought, Madam,^' cried 
 she, addressing her mother, " after what we 
 have both heard, and of what I have no 
 doubt of, from William's absurd and tur- 
 bulent behaviour ; and likewise from the 
 glances that have passed between Sir George 
 and her, that you would no more permit the 
 entrance of that ungrateful and artful young 
 woman, within the Castle's walls. If your 
 Ladyship remains wilfully blind^ I have 
 not been, nor am not ; unless you let her 
 instantly depart by the balcony steps, that 
 lead to the flower garden, and thence through 
 the gardener's lodge, William Neville won't 
 rest satisfied, till he sees her ; the lad is 
 certainly beside himself, and the Earl is 
 now severely lecturing him ; therefore now 
 is the best opportunity for her to withdraw, 
 and refrain her visits for the future. My fore- 
 sight and advice, I find, has had no influ- 
 ence with your Ladyship ; but here comes
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. !lS 1 
 
 my Lord and father, and his resolves arc 
 absokite." 
 
 The Earl now appeared ; he had at all 
 times a very commanding air, but when in 
 anger, there was a severity in his look that 
 was really terrific. He first spoke to the 
 Countess, who was greatly perplexed and 
 agitated, he upbraided her with having ex- 
 posed their nephew and ward to temptation, 
 by admitting Mary into their friendship and 
 society, and laid a strict injunction on her, 
 never to invite her more. He then address- 
 ed our Heroine : 
 
 " My Lady Delafort, by my desire^ never 
 from this hour, permits your appearance 
 within these doors again ; and I insist that 
 you abandon all presumptuous hopes of en- 
 ticing or misleading the Honourable Wil- 
 liam Neville, my ward, into any clandes- 
 tine correspondence, honourable or dis- 
 honourable, and that you instantly promise 
 me to fulfil my commands, by renouncing 
 him to his face." His Lordship then left 
 the room, and re-entered with his nephew^ 
 quite chap-fallen, and followed by Mrs. 
 Marlow and Sir George. 
 
 Pride and indignation now glowed in
 
 289 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 Mary's face, while she thus addressed the 
 Earl in reply : 
 
 " The patronage bestowed upon me by 
 your amiable Countess, my Lord, was her 
 own free, and spontaneous condescension. 
 I sought it not, was ignorant of the honour 
 of being known to her, when her gracious 
 notice filled my bosom, as it ever must, 
 with lasting gratitude. As for any attempt 
 to inveigle that honourahle gentleman's af- 
 fections, I here, most solemnly before your 
 family, my Lord, assert my innocence of 
 the charge, and most readily promise never 
 to entice, or mislead the gentleman, whose 
 intellects stand so much in need of your 
 Lordship's support ; I should be inadequate 
 to the charge, and freely consign them to 
 the guidance they require. Whatever Mr. 
 Neville's designs towards me may be, I 
 here reject them all with disdain, feeling 
 the superiority of my own mind, ever to 
 connect it with idiotism.'* 
 
 " Nothing can be fairer, my Lord," ex- 
 claimed Sir Georofe. 
 
 " And let her likewise, my Lord," cried 
 Lady Lucy, " promise to renounce all views 
 of enticing away the attention of Sir George, 
 now that he is ajiother'^s,'*
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 283 
 
 '• Gracious Heaven !^' cried Mary, in aa 
 agony of tears, " have I lived to be thought- 
 so vile a creature ! lost to every principle of 
 rectitude ! Oh! cruel and inhuman thought! 
 but if it satisfy her Ladyship, I most so- 
 lemnli/ swear/" And our Heroine knelt 
 down with uplifted hands and eyes. 
 
 " Bravo! very well acted indeed!" cried 
 Lady Lucy ; " why don't you applaud her 
 tragedy, my Lord ? why donH you William, 
 and Sir George ? I vow, you are none of 
 you half so moved as I ;** and she took 
 out her cambric handkerchief, and affected 
 to weep, while young Neville, with woeful 
 and despondent air, exclaimed, " cut, cut^ 
 to all intents and purposes, a cut /'* 
 
 " You have heard your doom, Sir," said 
 the Earl, turning to his nephew, " and I 
 trust, you will have more good sense and 
 pride, than to annoy me with your gallan- 
 tries, or trouble that young woman with 
 your impertinences." So saying, this austere 
 nobleman advanced to Mary, and taking 
 her hand, said, " permit me, Madam, to 
 see you to the hall ; while I wish you every 
 success in your professional pursuits, which 
 your abilities most certainly, and your 
 'iiture prudence may deserve."
 
 ^S^ THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 " Farewell, poor girl !^' escaped from 
 the Countess, with a deep-fetched sigh ! 
 
 '' Oh! Farewell! most noble, dearest 
 lady V cried Mary as she knelt, and took 
 the Countess's hand, " and may every bless- 
 ing V^ She could no more ; but turned, and 
 cast one longing lingering look behind, and 
 beheld the fine countenance of her benefac- 
 tress overcast with melancholy, and far from 
 relishing the mahcious and unseasonable 
 mirth of her unfeehng daughter. 
 
 Thus was our poor Heroine's enircmce to, 
 and exit from the Castle, finally accom- 
 plished in the short space of less than two 
 months ! 
 
 »* Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness I 
 This is the state of man ; to-day ^ he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honours thick upon him 1 
 The third day comes a frosty a killing frost. 
 And while he thinks, good, easy man! full sure, 
 His honours are a ripening ; nips his bud ! 
 x4nd then he falls, as / do.*' 
 
 Mary could not help applying these pa- 
 thetic lines of Cardinal Wolsey to herself, 
 though she had superior consolation ; neither 
 her ambition nor misconduct had caused this 
 alteration. '* Since Heaven has so willed
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 285 
 
 it/* she cried as she proceeded home, " I 
 bend submissive to its wise decrees ; better 
 be accounted guilty^ than forfeit my inno- 
 cence^ and be that ungratefid and designing 
 wretch, which false report, and malevolent 
 surmise, with their envenomed pencil, have 
 drawn me. Grant me fortitude. Almighty 
 Power to bear up firmly against this tide of 
 prejudice, which, without thy aid, must 
 overwhelm and sink me!^* 
 
 Mary now, weary of great connexions, 
 applied with redoubled assiduity to the du- 
 ties of her profession. She studied inces- 
 santly ; and though she did not draw the . 
 overflowing houses she had caused at first, 
 nor receive the same enthusiastic plaudits as 
 formerly ; yet she was conscious, she had 
 more justly earned them : still, this was 
 not sufficient to satisfy the Manager, he 
 began to fidget about, and mutter to him- 
 self, " very strange, very unaccountable ! 
 all is not gold that ghtters.^^ By this be- 
 haviour in her presence, and his manner of 
 speaking to her, she began to perceive a 
 growing coolness ; it was no longer, " my 
 dear^^' with a smile and a chuckle, nor rub- 
 bing his hands ; but, " //^^, Miss\ no^ Maam^*
 
 286 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 and a sudden turn round with liis cane 
 behind his back. 
 
 Going into the green-room one morning, 
 and looking at the cast of some plays ; she 
 was surprised to see Mrs. Crawley^s name 
 in for Angela^ the part which Mr. P ■ 
 had taken from that lady, and had now re- 
 stored it to her, without any apology to 
 Mary, for the pains of studying it to oblige 
 him, and who had actually rehearsed it 
 twice. 
 
 On mentioning the circumstance to Mr. 
 P , he rephed shortly, " Well, Miss, 
 
 I must cast my business to the best advan- 
 tage, and will do in my own theatre as I 
 like; you have never performed it, there- 
 fore the part is not your's, but was already 
 in possession. You are now well-studied 
 in it, ancT that's a great thing in your favour, 
 when you go to another company. I must 
 try some way to fill my house ; and I can- 
 not pay Mrs. Crawley for lying idle.^* 
 
 Mrs. Crawley now was all spirits, and 
 when Mary passed her, said aloud to her 
 friend Mrs. Benson, " you see, Madam, 
 new brooms wear out fast. ^^ Our Heroine 
 took no notice, but could not mistake its 
 application.
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 28? 
 
 Not having seen Miss Emerson since the 
 ball was given at the Castle, she dressed 
 herself, and waited on her : but judge her 
 surprise, when she found the knocker muf- 
 fled up. She enquired the cause, and was 
 informed Miss Emerson had fainted away 
 at the ball, from the heat it was supposed : 
 but hysteric fits had succeeded, and she was 
 obliged to be -taken home immediately, and 
 had been dangerously ill ever since. Mary 
 guessed the cause, and could not but blame 
 her for venturing to the Castle in the per- 
 turbed state of mind she evidently laboured 
 under. Rumour had circulated strange 
 whispers ; but Mary listened not to the 
 breath of scandal, having herself experienced 
 its malevolence and falsehood. 
 
 A few evenings after, having finished the 
 part of Miss Dorillo)i, in the play of " Wives 
 as i/iei/ were^ and Maids as they are^^ 
 Mary, being fatigued with her exertions be- 
 fore a full and splendid house ; for the Dela- 
 fort family ; with Lord Brudenel and his 
 party, and all the fashionables of the place 
 were assembled, it being the hride^s be- 
 speak. Our Heroine undressed herself, 
 locked up her things, and having waited for 
 the servant, till out of patience, she for the
 
 288 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 first time left the theatre alone. She felt se- 
 cure of not being known, having wrapped 
 her pelisse close round her, which, with a 
 Bourbon bonnet and a thick veil, complete- 
 ly disguised her. 
 
 She had not, however, proceeded many 
 paces, when she heard the step of a man 
 briskly following her. She doubled her haste, 
 in the hope of avoiding him ; but just as 
 she had reached a lonely part of the street, 
 close by a dead wall, that extended a long 
 way, he overtook her ; what was her asto- 
 nishment to find Sir George was the person 
 she had shunned ; for though his figure was 
 concealed by a great-coat, his voice was too 
 familiar to her ear, not to be instantly 
 known ; thinking she had left him in the 
 theatre witli his bride and party, her alarm 
 was equal to her surprise, and she bade him 
 instantly to leave her. 
 
 " Mary,^' cried he, '' I have too long 
 sought this happy moment to lose it lightly, 
 and I swear no powder on earth shall wrest 
 from me, the mournful rapture of bidding 
 you, farewell for everP 
 
 " Why do you ^insult me with your pre- 
 sence?'' exclaimed Mary. " Shame ! shame! 
 Sir George ; return to your wife^ nor seek
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 289 
 
 to disturb the peace of her, you never can 
 obtain/' 
 
 '* That is it/' he cried, seizing her hand; 
 '*' that is it ; the wretched truth is out, and 
 for gold have I bartered all earthly hap- 
 piness. The splendour I now enjoy, is 
 cheerless/' 
 
 <« How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable. 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world !" 
 
 " Quit your hold, Sir," replied the indig- 
 nant girl, " or I will call aloud, and force 
 your absence, by exposing your base con- 
 duct to the world. ^^ 
 
 " I come not as a lover^^ returned the 
 Baronet, dropping her hand, " but to en- 
 treat, that you will consider Ine only as a 
 friend^ and apply to me, should ever tnis- 
 fortune or public caprice reduce you to ne- 
 cessity. The luxuries of this vain world 
 were poison to my lips were I to taste 
 them, while the cherished idol of my soul 
 pined in secret want. Promise me this, and 
 1 may struggle with comparative patience 
 under my bondage.^' 
 
 *' Never, Sir George ; never will I ac- 
 cept a service from youy nor from the hus- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 band of another, unless his age rendered it 
 ^. fatherly donation. 1 have youth, strength, 
 and a profession : these with industry, are a 
 sufficient support/' 
 
 '' Then I am miserable /'' exclaimed he, 
 " the delusive hope of your sharing the af- 
 fluence I now can boast, was the charm that 
 lulled me to composure. Oh, Alary ! can 
 you see me yoked to such a partner, and 
 not pity me ? Lady Lucy can never be 
 my loved companion ; her narrow, jealous 
 mind, and grosser manners, are poor ingre- 
 dients for an intercourse for life. Where then 
 is the crime of loving her superior ? Crime 
 did I say ? it is the innate virtue of my soul, 
 that directs its adorations to an angel !^' 
 
 " The mind and qualifications," Mary 
 rephed to this sophistry, "• which Lady 
 Lucy possessed, v/ere well known to you. 
 Sir, before you swore at the altar, to love 
 and cherish her: having with that know- 
 ledge, taken the sacred oath of fidelity^ 3^ou 
 are condemned by Hcaceti, if 3^ou break it: 
 nor will the Supreme hold your accomplice 
 in guilt, less free from punishment ; there- 
 fore desist from supposing all your fine ar- 
 guments can gloss over the crime you would
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 291 
 
 nre me to commit ; the horror of such a 
 deed appals me : you have sold yourself, and 
 must abide your fate." 
 
 *' iVo, Mary, wo,^^ cried Sir George ve- 
 hemently. " Death is within the reach of 
 all : and sooner than live without you, Til 
 cease to exist. '^ 
 
 " Bravely resolved, Sir George ; and by 
 my daughter's wrongs, and my own insulted 
 honour^ I'll try the strength of your resolu- 
 tion." 
 
 It was the Earl, accompanied by his 
 nephew, the Honourable William Neville, 
 who immediately exclaimed : 
 
 " Now, my Lord, am I a fool P Or am I 
 wrong in my conjectures r^ 
 
 " Prepare, Sir,'^ cried the Earl in a rage, 
 •• to receive the chastisement of a villain. 
 Had I a sword here, this instant would I 
 sacrifice you to my just resentment." 
 
 " Hear me, one moment, my Lord,^' 
 cried Sir George. 
 
 . " ril hear nothing, Sir ; it is sufficient 
 for me to know my daughter is miserable' 
 for life, by uniting herself to such a merce- 
 nary wretch ; and that I have been deceived 
 and duped by your plausibility and hypo- 
 
 o 2
 
 292 THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 crisy ;" then turning to poor Mary, who 
 stood trembling and sinking with alarm, 
 " Have you not done a notable deed, Ma- 
 dam, to sunder man and wife ? To turn the 
 harmony of a united family into discord and 
 separation P" 
 
 More dead than alive, our poor Heroine 
 hnplored his Lordship's patience ; her gush- 
 ing tears, the anguish of a guiltless heart, 
 were perverted by his passion Into shame, at 
 being detected in correspondence with Sir 
 George ; and she vainly strove to assert her 
 innocence. 
 
 " As a man, I am bound to protect the 
 faultless from oppression," returned Sir 
 George, seizing her trembling hand ; " and 
 however appearances may condemn, I pro- 
 claim this Lady spotless as purity itself." 
 
 " Spotless P^ exclaimed the Earl with 
 bitter irony, " very spotless / when clandes- 
 tinely walking with a married man between 
 the hours of ten and eleven at night : it 
 would be sacrilege to doubt her spotless 
 purity !" 
 
 Sunk to the earth with the conviction of 
 being despised, poor Mary would have 
 dropped, had she not caught the arm of
 
 THE PRESENT DAY. 293 
 
 young Neville ; the Baronet eagerly offered 
 assistance : but resentment renewing her faint- 
 ing spirits, she forced herself from him ; cry- 
 ing in all the bitterness of soul, " Dare not 
 to approach me, Sir. Have you not the sa- 
 vage satisfaction of knowing you have de- 
 prived me of my only friends ; bereaved me 
 of all that is dear to me, my unhlemished 
 name I is not that enough P Oh ! my Lord ! 
 the time will come, when your harsh sus- 
 picions will be removed ; and / the accuser, 
 and not you^ 
 
 " You are no farther concerned in this 
 business,'^ said the Earl to Mary, and then 
 turning to Sir George : " xit six to-morrow 
 'morning I shall expect to meet you, Sir ; 
 when my daughter's wrongs shall be pro- 
 perly redressed.'* 
 
 " I accept the meeting," replied the Ba- 
 ronet, " for in a cooler moment, you will be 
 more open to conviction ; and I competent 
 to vindicate her, whom your Lordship so 
 unjustly accuses." 
 
 " Good bye," cried the malicious little 
 coxcomb. " I wish you joy of your bargain. 
 I shan't take your mistress off your hands, 
 ^pon honour : recollect six to-morrow, and
 
 !29'i THE ACTRESS OF 
 
 come prepared for the worst ; you under- 
 stand/^ And the little beau then muffling 
 himself up in his fur great coat, and tying a 
 handkerchief round his neck, for fear of the 
 night-air, returned with the Earl to the 
 theatre. 
 
 Sir George did not presume to follow 
 Mary ; who, from agitation, no sooner reach- 
 ed her home, than she fainted. She was im- 
 mediately put to bed ; and remained very 
 weak and ill, all the next day. She dreaded 
 the mischief that might ensue ; and her 
 agony was indescribable, which was not a 
 little increased, when Mrs. Howard brought 
 her up a letter, left by the Countess's foot- 
 man : it was to this effect : 
 
 *' Madam, 
 
 " Sensibly touched at being the means 
 of introducing so much domestic sorrow into 
 my family, I am compelled in justice to its 
 members, to renounce the occasion of it ; 
 and for ever decline to countenance one, 
 who, instead of returning my favour and con- 
 descension with the gratitude that was my 
 due, has wrought shame and confusion into 
 the heart of her only patroness ; and serpent-
 
 THE PRJESENT DAY. "2^5 
 
 like has stung the bosom of her friend with 
 endless reproaches upon her account. 
 
 " Wishing reformation to one so young, 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 " E. Delafort." 
 
 " Now," cried Mary, " I am completely 
 lost !" and she sunk in a state of insensibility 
 upon her bed. 
 
 END OF VOL. r. 
 
 Printed by W. Flint Old Bailey, London ,
 
 
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