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 ELLEN PEECY; 
 
 OR, raa 
 
 MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS, 
 
 AUTHOR OP THB FIRST AND SBCOXD SERIES OF " THB JITSTKEIE3 OF LOKDOX," " THE MTSTERtES 
 OF THB COURT OF LOXDON," "MART PRICE," "JOSEPH WILMOT," "ROSA XAMBERT," " THE 
 NECROMANCER," " THB MASSACRE OF GLENCOE," " POPE JOAN," " THB DATS OF HOGARTH," 
 "WAGNER THE WEHR-WOLF," "THB SOLDIER'S WIFE," "THE ETE- HOUSE PLOT," "THE BRONZE 
 STATUE," "the loves OP THE HARBM," " OMAR : A TALE OF THE WAR," " LEILA; OR, THB 
 STAR OF MINGRBLIA," "MAT MIDDLETON," " THB CORAL ISLAND," " AGNBS; OB, BEAUTT AND 
 PLKASUBK," "the SEAMSTRESS," " THE PIXT," " KKSNETH," "ROBERT MACAIKB," &3. &8. 
 
 WITH FIFTY-TWO WOOD-ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PUBLISHED, FOR THE PROPRIETOR, BY JOHN DICKS, AT THE OFFICE 
 ( No, 7, WELLINGTON STREET NORTH, STRAND. 
 
 1856.
 
 a/^ 
 
 i
 
 
 INDEX TO WOOD-ENGMvmCxS. 
 
 '^-, 
 
 I 
 
 Of 
 
 6 
 
 1. The G-randfatlier'a Death Bed . • 
 
 2. Ellen and the Lessee . • • • 
 
 3. St. Clair gazing on the Ballet-dancers 
 
 4. Ellen and St. Clair . ' tt * 
 
 5. The Entertainment at the Parks a House . 
 
 6. Ellen and Melissa Harrison 
 
 7. Ellen and Colonel Bellew . • • • 
 
 8. Ellen and the Gipsies . • • 
 
 9. Ellen as Juliet in " Romeo and Juliet 
 
 10. The Aunt's Death . • • 
 
 11. Scene in Lady Lilla Essendine's Garden . 
 
 12. The Brute-tamer - • • 
 
 13. Ellen and the Duchess of Ardleigh • 
 14,. Ellen as Queen Catherine in " Henry \ lU 
 
 15. POETEAIT OF ElLEN PeKCT. 
 
 16. Ellen and Mr. Crott. • • * 
 
 17. The Swoon . • • * " 
 
 18. Ellen and Juliet Norman . . • • 
 
 19. Ellen as Lady Macbeth 
 
 20. PoRTEAiT ov Melissa Haebisoit. 
 2l] The Lessee and the Performers 
 
 22. Ellen's Triumph • • V, „.J„tt. 
 
 23 POETEAIT OF THE MaECHIOKESS OF CAMPA>ELLA. 
 
 24 Ellen as Mrs. Beverley in " The Gamester __ 
 26 Ellen as Portia in " The Merchant of Venice . 
 
 26. PoETEAii OF Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 
 27. Mary Glentworth in the Arbour . 
 
 28. Ellen and Beda . • • • 
 
 29. The Dream of the Dreadful Picture 
 
 30. Ellen and Juliet's Cuild 
 
 31. POETKAIT OF BEATEICE DI CaEBONI. 
 
 32! Ellen, the Marchioness, and Beda . 
 
 33.* Zarah and St. Clair , - • • 
 
 34. POETEAIT OF JULIET NoEMAN. 
 
 35. Beda at the Lunatic Asylum . • 
 
 36. A Scene in the Green Eoom . • » 
 
 37. St. Clair and Zarah in the Park . 
 
 38. POETEAIT OF ElLEN AS CLEOPATEA. 
 
 39. The Box at the Theatre 
 
 40. Felicia fainting at the Theatre 
 
 41. POETEAIT OF MaET GlESTTWOETD. 
 
 42. Ellen at her toilet . • • • 
 
 43. The Murder on the Cliff . • • • 
 
 44. Beatrice identifying the Corpse 
 
 45. POETEAIT OF THE DUCHESS OF AeDLBIGH. 
 
 46. Death of Mrs. Norman . 
 
 47. POETEAIT OF EeLICIA GOWEE. 
 
 48'. The Arrest of Ellen and Be.la . , 
 
 49*. The Attack on Black Ned . . • < 
 
 50. Dame Betty on her Knees 
 
 61. POETEAIT OF LaDT KeLVEDOX. 
 
 62. Ellen and Lady Kelvcdon . . • ■ 
 
 See page 
 
 8 
 21 
 26 
 36 
 46 
 50 
 51 
 63 
 68 
 75 
 81 
 91 
 98 
 109 
 
 127 
 130 
 139 
 155 
 
 166 
 178 
 
 195 
 199 
 
 220 
 224 
 232 
 242 
 
 258 
 268 
 
 277 
 285 
 293 
 
 314 
 315 
 
 332 
 
 347 
 350 
 
 367 
 
 391 
 
 398 
 399 
 
 408
 
 INDEX TO YOL. I. 
 
 Cbapte 
 
 r I. The Old House at Leeds . . • 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 II. The Stranget .... 
 
 .' 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 ») 
 
 HI. Various Changes of CirCiimstances . , 
 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 i> 
 
 lY. The Advertisemeufc . . . 
 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 >i 
 
 v. The Theatre ..... 
 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 VI. Edwin St. Clair .... 
 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 II 
 
 VII. The Invitation and the Eesult . 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 II 
 
 ■ VIII. The Box at the Theatre . . 
 
 
 
 
 33 
 
 II 
 
 IX. The Ball 
 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 II 
 
 X. Lady Lilla Essendine . . . 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 I) 
 
 XI. Colonel Bellew's House • . . 
 
 
 
 
 51 
 
 II 
 
 XII. The Debut .... 
 
 
 
 
 5G 
 
 II 
 
 XIII. Claremont Villa .... 
 
 
 
 
 61 
 
 II 
 
 XIV. The Bouquet .... 
 
 
 
 
 66 
 
 II 
 
 XV. Paisley ..... 
 
 
 
 
 74 
 
 II 
 
 XVLEmbledon .... 
 
 
 
 
 78 
 
 11 
 
 XVII. The Phial in the Filigree Case 
 
 
 
 
 83 
 
 11 
 
 XVIII. The Brute.tamer . . . 
 
 
 
 
 83 
 
 11 
 
 XIX. The Duchess and the Countess • . 
 
 
 
 
 95 
 
 11 
 
 XX. Theatrical Matters .... 
 
 
 
 
 102 
 
 11 
 
 XXI. The Private Theatricals 
 
 
 
 
 108 
 
 11 
 
 XXIL The Unacknowledged Wife 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 112 
 
 i> 
 
 XXIII. Various Incidents .... 
 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 11 
 
 XXIV. Mr. Croft .... 
 
 
 
 
 125 
 
 1) 
 
 XXV. Poor Juliet . . . . . 
 
 
 
 
 133 
 
 „ 
 
 XXVI. Juliet's Fate .... 
 
 
 
 
 139 
 
 11 
 
 XXVn. The Park, . , . . 
 
 
 
 
 143 
 
 » 
 
 XXVIII. The Masquerade 
 
 
 
 
 148 
 
 II 
 
 XXIX. Lady Macbeth . . , . 
 
 
 
 
 154 
 
 11 
 
 XXX. A Strange Visitress 
 
 
 
 
 159 
 
 11 
 
 XXXI. Aunt Oldcastle .... 
 
 
 
 
 168 
 
 „ 
 
 XXXIL The Test of Love 
 
 
 
 
 173 
 
 " 
 
 XXXIII. Francis Howard 
 
 
 
 
 178
 
 , Chapter XXXIV, The Old Farm House 
 
 XXXV. Zarah 
 
 XXXVI. Tho Fearful Picture . 
 
 XXXVII. Beatrice di Carboni 
 
 XXXVIII. Bcda 
 
 XXXIX. Mary Glentworth 
 XL. The Yacht 
 XLI. Mary and her Mother 
 XLII. Juliet's Infant . . 
 XLIII. The Meeting 
 XLIV. The Railway Train 
 XLV. The Earl of Carshalton 
 XLVI, A Strange Scene . 
 XLVII. William Lardner . 
 XLVIII. Zarah and St. Clair . 
 XLIX. The Pardon 
 L, The Guilty Lawyer . . 
 LI. Hyde Park 
 
 LII. The Marquis of Tynedale. 
 LIII. More Mysteries 
 LIV. Tho Party at the Theatre 
 LV. The Result of the Plan 
 LVI. The Black-edged Letter 
 LVIL Mr. Gower . 
 LVIII. The Appointment 
 LXIX. The Cheque 
 LX. The Cliff . 
 LXr. The Pier-head 
 LXII. Again at Leeds . 
 LXIII. Mrs. Norman 
 LXIV. Felicia . 
 LXV. Petersfield . 
 LXVI. The Cottage 
 LXVII, The Attack 
 LXVIII. The Struggle 
 LXIX Heroiione . 
 LXX. The Black Hibbon
 
 ELLEN PERCY; 
 OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, 
 
 A' 
 
 CHAPTER. I. 
 
 THR OLD HOUSE AT LEEDS. 
 
 I HATE often thought, when looking back through 
 the vista of jears to the period of my early in^ 
 fancy, that such retrospect was like plunging the 
 No. 1. 
 
 regards info the almost endless reaches of a forest, 
 —where, at the extremity of long winding 
 avenues, feeble and uncertain glimpses of light 
 are caught amidst the deep embowering shades. 
 And in the same way that imagination itself 
 grows bewildered when flitting into the depths of 
 that vast wilderness of umbrageous verdure, — so 
 does memory become confused when striving U)
 
 2 
 
 EIilEN PEECX; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEB88. 
 
 fix its gaze on the earliest incidents of life that 
 can by any possibility be within its reach. Of 
 this dim and shadowy species was a recollection 
 which would at times haunt me like the ill-defined 
 impression of a troubled dream. In my childhood 
 I used to sit and wonder whether the circumstance 
 could ever have possibly occurred—or whether it 
 were a mere fancy arising from some unaccount- 
 able freak or aberration of an infantile mind. 
 Methought, however, that this earliest impression 
 of mine was associated with some dark gloomy 
 place— a man fondling me upon hia knee, then 
 pressing me to his heart and sobbing bitterly — 
 then a woman taking me from his arms, straining 
 me to her own bosom, and sobbing and weeping 
 with even more convulsive violence than the grief 
 of the other. And after this scene there appeared 
 to be a blank in my existence — until my next im- 
 pressions were associated with my grandfather's 
 house at Leeds. 
 
 In that great northern town, and in one of 
 those low quarters which almost exclusively swarm 
 with the poorest members of the manufacturing 
 population— in the midst of a labyrinth of narrow 
 filthy streets, interspersed with huge dingy fac- 
 tories—and beneath an atmosphere almost ever- 
 lastingly "blackened by the smoke vomited forth 
 from the giant chimneys that overlooked the whole 
 maze of habitations, — there was that house 
 situated. It was one of the largest in the entire 
 quarter of which I am speaking— and perhaps also 
 the gloomiest. Its dark red-brick front displayed 
 many small windows of the old-fashioned latticed 
 description; and there was a heavy pointed 
 wooden portico, supported by two very meagre 
 pillars. The house was large enough for the 
 accommodation of a numerous family; and yet it 
 only contained four persons. These were my 
 grandfather, the housekeeper, myself, and a 
 wretched drab of a servant-of-all-work. I did not 
 know then — but I have since learnt, and therefore 
 I may as well at once inform the reader — that my 
 grandfather, Mr. Forsyte, had never pursued any 
 ostensible profession : but he lent money and dis- 
 counted bills- though alw.iys in small sums; for 
 notwithstanding the extent of his avarice he was 
 afraid of anything in the shape of a great risk, 
 and therefore would never bo too speculative. The 
 house was his own property : be had bought it 
 many years back, at a price which would have 
 been cheap for even one of the humblest dwell- 
 ings in the neighbourhood. At the time that 
 he thus purchased it, the house had been long 
 shut up : some dreadful murder had been com- 
 mitted within its walls — its repute was bad — 
 superstition invested it with the darkest terrors — 
 and it was falling into decay, when Mr. Forsyth, 
 availing himself of what he considered to be an 
 excellent bargain, became its purchaser. If by 
 living in the meanest lodging elsewhere, and 
 letting that house to any one else, my grandfather 
 could have made money, he would have done it : 
 but he knew that no family would dwell in that 
 house— it would have moreover required a con- 
 siderable outlay for reparation — and therefore 
 Mr. Forsyth continued to inhabit it himself. 
 
 Two-thirds of the rooms were shut up ; and 
 only just so many were furnished as were re- 
 quired for the use of the inmates. And such fur- 
 niture as it was! A few pounds expended at the 
 
 meanest broker's, would have purchased much 
 better articles. A front parlour on the ground- 
 floor served as the only sitting-room: behind it 
 was a sort of office, where my grandfather kept his 
 books and papers, and transacted his business with 
 the borrowers who called upon hita ; and an inner 
 door opening from this office, communicated with 
 a room that jutted out into the yard and which 
 served as Mr. Forsyth's bed-chamber. The house- 
 keeper occupied an upper room ; and a smaller 
 chamber opening therefrom, was allotted to my 
 use. The servant-girl's chamber was higher up 
 still. 
 
 From all that I have just said, the reader is 
 prepared to learn that Mr. Forsyth was of the 
 most penurious habits ; and I thought at the time 
 that he was exceedingly poor. Indeed, like all 
 misers, he was constantly complaining of poverty, 
 and vowing that he should be ruined if anything 
 which he fancied to border upon extravagance 
 were practised. To myself he was much attached : 
 but it was after his own peculiar fashion. He 
 would caress and fondle me — and yet not merely 
 grudge me a toy, but even the means of education. 
 I used to go to a neighbouring day-school, fre- 
 quented by the daughters of respectable trades- 
 men : but my grandfather was constantly grumbling 
 at the payment of the pittance which my tuition 
 thus cost him. Fortunate however was it for me 
 that the dame who kept the school was a worthy 
 good-hearted woman ; and she conceived a liking 
 for me. She said that I was the most intelligent 
 as well as the most docile of her pupils ; and she 
 took a delight in teaching me. I believe she had 
 some little independence of her own, and therefore 
 was not compelled to look too closely to the remu- 
 neration she received from the parents or relatives 
 of the girls attending her school. She frequently 
 kept me after school-hours, and regaled me in her 
 parlour — which, by its neatness and comfort, had 
 to me the air of a palace in comparison with the 
 cheerless ill-furnished parlour at home. Perhaps 
 she thought I was half starved; for she took a 
 delight in making me eat the good things which 
 she placed before me. Although my grandfather 
 would pay for no " extras," but merely wanted me 
 to have what he called " a plain education," yet 
 the worthy lady — (her name was Mrs. Kelly, and 
 I am glad to have an opportunity of making 
 honourable mention of it)— put me into the 
 drawing-class and also into the music-class; and 
 she allowed me to learn dancing. My grandfather 
 was delighted: he would gladly have suffered me 
 to acquire all possible accomplishments, so long as 
 he was not called upon to pay for them. Every- 
 thing that he himself or any one belonging to him 
 could get for notliing, was in his estimation an 
 immense gain and a subject for the extremes!; 
 self-felicitation. Thus, altogether, under the 
 tuition of that worthy and kind-hearted Mrs. 
 Kelly, I received a very tolerable education, em- 
 bellished with some few accomplishments. 
 
 I did not know what to think of Mrs. Parks, 
 my grandfather's housekeeper. She was kind 
 enougii to me : but I could not help fancying that 
 there was something forced, or rather artificial 
 and hypocritical, in this display of tenderness, 
 and that it was only shown in order to curry favour 
 with Mr. Forsyth, because he himself loved me. 
 I used to wonder how it was possible lor such a
 
 ELLEN PEllCT; OU, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3. 
 
 Bour-looking old woman as Mrs. Parks, to be 
 sincerely good and kind towards any one. Her 
 countenance had a sinister expression — and never 
 more so than when, in a sort of canting tone, she 
 was lavishing praises upon me in the presence of 
 my grandfather. Over him she evidently wielded 
 an immense influence, though he himself did not 
 choose to acknowledge it : on the contrary, when- 
 ever, with her wonted hypocritical air of deference, 
 she proflfered her advice on any point, he vowed he 
 
 would do the very reverse and yet her counsel 
 
 was always followed ! She had been with him for 
 a great number of years : she used to sit with us 
 in the parlour, and was treated almost as an equal 
 —though she invariably said "sir" when speaking 
 to my grandfather, and used to call me " Miss 
 Ellen." The influence she possessed over Mr. For- 
 syth had not been acquired by tyranny : nor was 
 it ever asserted in a dominating spirit. It was the 
 influence that was obtained insidiously, in the 
 thousand and one ways in which such a woman 
 could render herself necessary to such a man. For 
 when I was alone with my grandfather, he would 
 frequently tell me how faithful a creature Mrs. 
 Parks was — how economically she managed his 
 little household — how kind she was to myself — 
 and how irreparable would be her loss if anything 
 should happen to her. And yet it would some- 
 times occur to me, notwithstanding these praises 
 bestowed upon the housekeeper— and notwith- 
 standing the vehement assertion of his own in- 
 dependence in opposition to any advice she might 
 at times proffer, as I have already stated— that 
 my grandfather experienced more or less fear of 
 Mrs. Parks ; and when this idea was in my mind, 
 I fancied it was because he was afraid that she 
 should leave him and procure some better situa- 
 tion. 
 
 She had for many long years been a widow ; 
 and she had a son, who was clerk to a lawyer 
 living at York. Thomas Parks was an individual 
 of by no means prepossessing appearance : he was 
 about five-and-thirty-years of age when I was ten 
 or eleven : he had red hair and whiskers, a face 
 covered with freckles, and eyelashes that were 
 almost white. He wore spetacles, and had a de- 
 mure look : indeed methought that his limp white 
 neckcloth and his invariable suit of seedy black 
 gave him that pseudo-sanctimonious aspect which 
 characterizes the hypocrite who would fain pass 
 for a saint. There was something unpleasantly 
 fawning and cringing in his manner, as well as 
 whining and snivelling in his tone. He had a 
 wife and a perfect swarm of children : for one day 
 Mrs. Parks took me, as a very great treat, to York, 
 when she was going on a brief holiday-visit to her 
 son ; and on that occasion I formed the acquaint- 
 ance of the entire family. Occasionally — once per- 
 haps in every three months— Mr. Parks came over 
 to Leeds to see his mother : it was invariably upon 
 a Sunday— and my grandfather permitted him to 
 dine at his table. This was the only guest I ever 
 saw at the house, with the exceptions which I 
 shall presently have to name; and it might be 
 considered an extraordinary proof of Mr. For^iyth's 
 regard for Mrs. Parks, or else of his desire to do 
 an occasional thing to conciliate her, that he should 
 thus, even at distant intervals, permit another 
 mouth to feed itself at his board. And while 
 talking of the table, I may as well add that though 
 
 there was always a sufficiency of food, and that 
 Mrs. Kelly's apprehension of my being half-starved 
 was by no means well-founded, — yet the utmost 
 parsimony was observed in respect to the dishes 
 themselves, and the viands were hashed up again 
 and again until the uttermost morsel was disposed 
 of. 
 
 I am now about to specify the exceptions to 
 which I have just alluded. But I must previously 
 explain that I had been told my parents had died 
 when I was quite an infant ; and when on two or 
 three occasions I had mentioned to my grandfather 
 the vague and shadowy impression I experienced 
 of the scene alluded to in the opening sentences of 
 my narrative, he assured me it was mere fancy, 
 for that I had never been in a position to be so 
 caressed, sobbed and wept over, within the range 
 of my memory, inasmuch as I was only a few 
 months old when my father and mother were car- 
 ried off by the same malignant disease. The 
 reader has of course understood that Mr. Forsyth 
 was my maternal grandfather — my own surname 
 being Percy. I knew that I had an aunt— my 
 father's only sister, and who was a widow. Mr. 
 Wakefield, her deceased husband, had been a 
 manufacturer in a small way at Sheffield, and by 
 the closest application to business he ruined his 
 health — so that he sank into the grave before he 
 had lived long enough to overcome the difficulties 
 attendant upon entering into business with a very 
 limited capital. From the wrecks of his property 
 a sufficiency was saved to purchase a small annuity 
 for Mrs. Wakefield : but she, being a woman of 
 thrifty habits and excellent disposition, contrived 
 to maintain herself and her fatherless boy in 
 modest respectability. 
 
 I was about ten years of age when one morn- 
 ing, amidst an infinity of grumblings on the part 
 of my grandfather, I gleaned the intelligence that 
 he had invited Mrs. Wakefield to pass a week with 
 him. I was overjoyed at the idea of seeing my 
 aunt and my cousin Henry ; and I asked a thou- 
 sand questions concerning them. It however ap- 
 peared that Mr. Forsyth himself had not seen 
 them since the death of Mr. Wakefield, on which 
 occasion he went to Sheffield to attend the funeral 
 and to counsel the widow as to the best course she 
 could adopt with reference to the difficulties in 
 which her h'jsband's loss had suddenly plunged 
 her. All I could therefore ascertain was, that my 
 aunt Wakefield must be about six-and-thirty years 
 of age, and my cousin Harry about twelve. It 
 appeared that Mrs. Wakefield had written to Mr. 
 Forsysth to consult him as to the best means of 
 getting her son into a respectable free-school where 
 the old gentleman had some little influence : but 
 before he would use it, he, with characteristic 
 caution, desired to be better acquainted with the 
 lad himself. Thus— doubtless after much hesita- 
 tion and with considerable reluctance — he had de- 
 termined to stretch a point and go to the expense 
 of entertaining Mrs. Wakefield and Henry for an 
 entire week. Perhaps the old gentleman likewise 
 deemed it his duty to affi^rd me an opportunity of 
 becoming acquainted with my relatives, whom I 
 had never yet seen and had only distantly heard 
 of. 
 
 Furniture was hired— (my grandfather would 
 have thought it an unpardonable waste of money 
 to purchase the articles) —for a couple of the long-
 
 4 
 
 ELLEN PEECT ; OR, THE MEMOIHO OF AS ACTRESS. 
 
 ehut-up chambers; and on the appointed day my 
 aunt and cousin arrived. A pale, pretty, lady-like 
 woman, with the sweetest and most amiable ex- 
 pression of countenance, — and a tall, genteel, 
 slender lad, looking two years older than he really 
 was, with a profile of remarkable classic beauty 
 and large brown eyes shaded by ebon lashes, — 
 these were the relatives to whom I was now intro- 
 duced, and who received me in their arms. I wept 
 for very joy. The old cheerless house seemed irra- 
 diated with their presence ; and there was the ex- 
 quisite charm of novelty in the excitement attend- 
 ing their arrival. And then too, it was so sweet 
 for me, who had never known any other relation 
 than my old, withered, cadaverous grandfather, to 
 be clasped in the arms of those who appeared per- 
 fectly beautiful in my eyes. My aunt treated me 
 as one whom she had long yearned to behold, but 
 from whom circumstances had kept her apart. She 
 smiled and wept upon me, pressing me again and 
 again to her bosom. As for my cousin, — with the 
 natural frankness of his truly generous heart, he 
 seemed determined to become intimate with me at 
 once : there was no cold ceremony, no awkward 
 shyness nor reserve on his part — and we were soon 
 " Cousin Harry" and " Cousin Nelly" to one an- 
 other. 
 
 How happily passed that week ! It constituted 
 one of those periods which are marked with golden 
 letters in the existence of mortals. It was in the 
 middle of summer, during the vacation of Mrs. 
 Kelly's school ; and therefore I was enabled to de- 
 vote all my time to my aunt Wakefield and my 
 cousin Harry. I liked Harry from the very first 
 moment : there was something so cordial without 
 absolute forwardness in his manner — something so 
 frank and open-hearted that it was impossible to 
 help being pleased with him — almost fascinated, if 
 I may apply such a term to the feelings of a girl 
 of ten years of age, as I was at that time. 
 
 One day I found myself alone with my aunt 
 "Wakefield — Mr. Forsyth having gone with Henry 
 to visit the master of the free-school in a neigh- 
 bouring town. My aunt questioned me upon a 
 variety of subjects ; and though I was too young 
 and inexperienced at the time to comprehend the 
 considerate delicacy with which her queries were 
 put, — yet at later periods, when I have recalled to 
 mind the particulars of that interview, I have seen 
 and appreciated all which I was then unable to 
 understand. She evidently strove to glean whether 
 I was happy with my grandfather — whether Mrs. 
 Parks was kind to me — and whether I had a suffi- 
 ciency of necessaries and comforts. I wore my 
 best apparel all the time my aunt and Henry were 
 at the house : and I did not like to tell Mrs. Wake- 
 field that ordinarily in the week-days I felt that I 
 was shabby and that I had even been taunted with 
 that shabbiness by my schoolfellows. I endea- 
 voured to give the most satisfactory answers to all 
 questions ; for indeed I was naturally of a con- 
 tented, but shy and timid disposition. I spoke 
 highly of Mrs. Kelly; and my aunt went with me 
 to call upon this lady, that she might personally 
 thank her for all her goodness towards me. 
 
 " I can assure you, my dear madam," said the 
 kind-hearted dame, " Ellen is quite a pet cf mine: 
 but she deserves it. She is very pretty, though I 
 ought not to say so in her presence : but what i^ 
 far better, she is good. As for her intelligence, i- 
 
 is truly remarkable — and she is very fond of learn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Do you not think she is rather delicate P" I 
 heard my aunt ask in a whisper, but which was 
 nevertheless just audible to my ears. 
 
 "No— her health is good," replied Mrs. Kelly. 
 " She has attended my school for the last four years, 
 and has never had a day's illness. She is tall for 
 her age — she is only ten, you know — and she looks 
 twelve. Her figure is slender — but so genteel ! In 
 short, my dear madam, she is the genteelest looking 
 as well as the prettiest and the best girl in my school. 
 I am very much mistaken if she will not grow up to 
 be a most lovely creature. Did you ever see such 
 silky black hair, with such a raven gloss upon it- 
 such superb dark eyes — such sweet features, espe- 
 cially those vermilion lips of her's, with that beau- 
 tiful smile 1" 
 
 "Yes— she is all that," answered Mrs. Wake- 
 field : " and I hope ■" 
 
 But here she stopped short, and heaved a pro- 
 found sigh. 
 
 " You hope that her grandpapa," added Mrs. 
 Kelly, '•' will make such provisions as shall place 
 her under proper guardianship at his death. But 
 you yourself, my dear madam, will doubtless be- 
 come her guardian ?" 
 
 Mrs. Wakefield gave some response, which did 
 not reach my ears. I was sitting in the window- 
 recess of the little parlour where this discourse took 
 place; and I could not help overhearing it. But 
 I was looking through the window— or rather my 
 face was turned that way; and therefore neither 
 the schoolmistress nor my aunt had any reason to 
 suspect that I did overhear them. The conver- 
 sation made a deep impression on my mind ; and 
 therefore I have recorded it here. It was the first 
 time I ever knew that I had the slightest claim to 
 good looks. Mrs. Parks had been wont to praise 
 my proficiencies in study — but never my personal 
 beauty. It would be a miserable affectation to pre- 
 tend that I was not pleased on learning that I was 
 considert^d pretty : but the knowledge thereof did 
 not instil the faintest tincture of vanity in my 
 mind. All the value which, according to the girlisti 
 notions of my naturally shy disposition, I attached 
 to the beauty of personal appearance, was centred 
 in the hope that it might render me more pleasing 
 to those whose good opinion I esteemed. 
 
 On returning with my aunt to the house, we 
 continued to discourse together ; and I at length 
 timidly ventured to ask some question relative to 
 my parents. I say timidly — because I had noticed 
 that my grandfather was invariably either annoyed 
 or afflicted whenever I had questioned him ou the 
 same subject. I now perceived that Mrs. Wake- 
 field averted her countenance ; and, as I continued 
 to gaze upon her, I observed that the tears were 
 trickling down her pale cheeks. I threw myself 
 into her arms, beseeching her to forgive me for 
 having touched upon a topic which made her 
 weep. 
 
 " You have no forgiveness to ask, my dear 
 child," she responded : " the question was natural 
 
 equally natural too is it that I should weep 
 
 on account of your parents. They are lost to you, 
 
 my poor child they were lost to you in your 
 
 infancy ! Would that it had been permitted to 
 me to supply the place of your mother : but cir- 
 cumstances prevented it !"
 
 ELLEX PBKCT; OU, THE lIEilOIES OP AN ACTEKS3. 
 
 For some few moments I was half suffocated 
 vith mj ovrn tears and sobs; and then I asked, 
 "Hovr old was I, dear aunt, when my parents 
 died ?" 
 
 " Why do you put this question, Ellen ?" in- 
 quired Mrs. Wakefield, looking fixedly upon my 
 countenance as I gazed up at her. 
 
 I blushed and became confused : but quickly re- 
 covering my frank and artless self-possession, I 
 looked up into her face again, and candidly re- 
 vealed that idea which had ever appeared to haunt 
 me like the reminiscence of something which had 
 actually bappered at the earliest period of my con- 
 sciousness of existence. Mrs. Wakefield listened 
 with what I fancied to be a sad and mournful in- 
 terest ; and when I had finished speaking, she said, 
 " Banish this idea, my sweet child, from your mind. 
 It is a delusion under which you are labouring— it 
 has no foundation in fact:"— and then, after a few 
 moments' pause, she added in a still lower tone, at 
 the same time bending her face down until it 
 almost touched mine, and pressing her hand 
 oiressingly over the masses of my dark hair — 
 '• You lost your parents, Ellen, when you were 
 tjo young to know them." 
 
 Almost immediately after these words were 
 spoken, I beheld my grandfather and Harry pass 
 tie window; and I bounded away to open the 
 f;ont door for them. At the instant I opened the 
 piilour door, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Parks 
 hastening along the passage to the staircase ; and 
 the suspicion flashed to my mind that she had been 
 listening to the discourse between my aunt and 
 myself. I scarcely know why I should have 
 t-iought so ; for the old housekeeper might just as 
 well have been coming from the kitchen, or from 
 one of the back rooms, as to hare been passing 
 away from the vicinage of the parlour-door. 
 Nevertheless, the idea did occur to me ; and it 
 excited a momentary trouble in my mind. But 
 I speedily forgot the incident when my cousin 
 Harry came bounding joyously towards me, ex- 
 claiming that Mr. Forsyth had procured him the 
 promise of admittance to the Free Grammar 
 Soliool after the current vacation. 
 
 Happiness was dancing in my cousin's handsome 
 brown eyes; and my heart thrilled with the trans- 
 fusing influence of the joy which he thus ex- 
 perienced. He ran to embrace his mother, and 
 acquaint her with the good tidings— for which she 
 Warmly expressed her gratitude to Mr. Forsyth, 
 
 On the following day Aunt Wakefield and 
 Cousin Harry took their departure : tears were 
 upon their cheeks — and torrents were raining down 
 my onn, as they bestowed upon me the farewell 
 einbrnces. And when they were gone, how I 
 missed them both !— how I continued to weep as I 
 looked at the vacant seats, where I no longer en- 
 countered the kind dove-like regards of my affec- 
 tionate aunt, nor the ingenuous expression of my 
 cousin's dark-brown eyes. And how cheerless the 
 old bouse appeared again— —Ob, how cheerless ! 
 
 ^ CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE STBAiraEB. 
 
 About six months had elapsed after the visit of 
 Mrs. Wakefield and her son ; and during this in- 
 terval I received two or three kind letters from 
 them both. Harry was installed at the seminary 
 where the benevolence of some long deceased phi- 
 lanthropist had provided that a certain number of 
 fatherless boys should be genteelly educated for a 
 sum so small that it was almost nominal. My 
 cousin was delighted with the establishment ; and 
 he declared that he should do his best to profit by 
 the advantages of instruction which were thus 
 afforded him. 
 
 It was one afternoon, a half-holiday — I remem- 
 ber it full well — in the middle of December, in the 
 year 1832 — I was sitting alone with my grand- 
 father in the parlour, Mrs. Parks being temporarily 
 absent at the time. It was about three o'clock; 
 and the dusk was closing in thus early in the 
 depth of that winter-season. We were close by 
 the window; and I had some ten minutes back laid 
 aside my book in consequence of the growing ob- 
 scurity. Mr. Forsyth bad been talking to me : 
 but there was at the moment a pause in the con- 
 versation. All of a sudden I beheld a man, who 
 was muffled in an ample cloak, and who wore a 
 somewhat battered hat, the broad brims of which 
 slouched, stop in front of the house and look up at 
 it. For a few moments I thought nothing parti- 
 cular of the incident: but as the individual re- 
 mained there in the middle of that narrow street 
 — now looking up and down, and then up at the 
 house again — I directed my grandfather's attention 
 to the person. At the same instant the individual 
 came close up to the window, and deliberately looked 
 over the blind. The dusk was not too great to 
 prevent me from easily observing all this — nor to 
 prevent the man himself from seeing into the 
 room, where the fire (never too good a one in that 
 parlour) was throwing a glimmering light around. 
 
 My grandfather uttered some ejaculation- 
 started — then sank back into the seat again— and 
 appeared to be smitten with a sudden trouble, or 
 else with illness. I was alarmed, and besought 
 him to tell me what was the matter. Then I 
 looked again to the window : — the man was gone. 
 
 Mr. Forsyth could not speak : a strange terror 
 appeared to have come over him : he was half 
 choking — and ho gazed at me with a ghastly ex- 
 pression. At the same instant I heard the latch- 
 key moving in the front-door lock: I knew it was 
 Mrs. Parks who was entering ; and I rushed out 
 of the room to summon her to my grandfather. 
 The man in the cloak pushed rudely and roughly 
 by the old woman — pushed by me also — and made 
 his way into the parlour. 
 
 " Ah ! it is you ?" gasped my grandfather : and 
 he rose up from his seat, tottering and staggering. 
 
 " Oh, you know me, then ?" said the mau, toss- 
 ing off his battered hat: and then turning towards 
 
 me, he said, " Ah ! is this the girl ? Come 
 
 But pshaw 1" and all in a moment his tone and 
 his manner appeared to express some feeling of 
 contempt with which he was smitten on his own 
 account. 
 
 "Leave us, Ellen — leave us, Ellen," said my
 
 6 
 
 ELIEN PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN A0TEES8. 
 
 grandfather, in accents which were so tremulous 
 with emotion that instead of obeying his mandate, 
 I rushed towards him. 
 
 Seizing his hand, I exclaimed, " Do not send me 
 from you ! You are ill— you are frightened ! -^— 
 What does this man want ?" 
 
 "Go, Ellen— go!" said my grandfather, now 
 speaking with a sudden sternness. " I insist upon 
 your leaving us! This is a— a— man— a— a gentle- 
 man — who has come to me on business." 
 
 "To be sure !" said the stranger : and he coolly 
 seated himself. 
 
 I was now compelled to obey my grandfather : 
 but I did so most reluctantly : and on quitting the 
 parlour, I beheld Mrs. Parks standing at the foot 
 of the staircase. She impatiently beckoned me 
 towards her; and then said in a whisper, " Go up- ■ 
 stairs for the present, ]VUss Ellen: you see that 
 your grandfather wants to be alone." 
 
 I obeyed ; and for half-an-hour I sat in my own I 
 chamber up-stairs, with a deeply troubled mind, 
 and marvelling what that stranger could want — 
 who he could possibly be— and what meant his 
 singular expressions and conduct in reference to 
 myself. The dusk deepened into darkness; and 
 there I remained, in my chamber, not liking to go 
 down stairs again until I might receive permission 
 to that effect. Mrs. Parks had not come up with 
 me : she had remained below — but whether to 
 enter the parlour or to attend to her avocations 
 elsewhere, I knew not. That she herself had 
 some inkling of the man's business, whatever it 
 were, I entertained the suspicion; and I could not 
 help thinking that even if she had not penetrated 
 into the parlour to join in the discourse she was 
 listening at the door. 
 
 I strove to recollect the stranger's appearance 
 as well as I could— though in the confusion of the 
 scene and the obscurity of the room, I had not 
 been enabled to observe him much more minutely 
 than when I had just before seen him in the street. 
 So far as I recollected or could estimate, he was 
 about forty years of age, with a dark weather- 
 beaten countenance, and a piercing pair of black 
 eyes. I knew that he was of tall stature ; and his 
 garments indicated poverty. His voice was rough, 
 and even coarse in its accents ; and there was a 
 mingled insolence, confidence, and hardihood in his 
 speech and manner, so that he almost seemed as if 
 he felt conscious of some power to command a re- 
 ception, even though it were not a welcome one, in 
 my grandfather's parlour. 
 
 I had been frightened by the incident ; and as 
 darkness was closing in around, cold nervous ter- 
 rors crept over me. Gradually into my mind came 
 the recollection that I had heard some vague and 
 uncertain whispers of how a long time back a 
 murder had been committed within the walls of 
 that house ; and I trembled from head to foot as I 
 shudderingly swept my looks around with the 
 hideous apprehension that I should see some 
 appalling shape stand suddenly out of the dark- 
 ness. But all in a moment the door opened — a 
 light streamed in upon me : it was Mrs. Parks who 
 came to say that the gentleman was gone and that 
 I might go down stairs again. When I rejoined 
 my grandfather, he took me in his arms and 
 caressed me with even a greater fondness than he 
 had ever yet displayed : but I saw that he was 
 Btill trembling violently— evidently with the effect 
 
 of a recent strong agitation. I longed to question 
 him — but dared not. He made no allusion to 
 the incident which I have been relating; but fre- 
 quently throughout that evening did he caress me 
 in the most affectionate manner. Several days 
 elapsed before he completely recovered from the 
 excitement into which he had evidently been 
 thrown ; and many weeks passed away before the 
 impression of that scene wore partially away from 
 my mind. 
 
 Two years went by without any incident worthy 
 of notice ; but during that interval I continued to 
 receive occisional letters from Mrs. Wakefield and 
 from Harry, all full of kindness, and all expressing 
 the hope that my grandfather would allo'v me tj 
 visit them some day at Slieffield during one of the 
 vacations. Mr. Forsyth would not however hear 
 of my leaving him ; and whenever I read those 
 passages in my aunt's and cousin's letters, the old 
 man appeared to be seized with a nervous excite- 
 ment; and laying his tremulous hand upon my 
 shoulder, he would exclaim, "No, no, my dear 
 child — no one shall take you from me !" 
 
 I was now some months past twelve years old— 
 the autumn of 1834 was merging into winter — 
 November was close at hand — the settled cold was 
 coming on apace. One day my grandfather did 
 not get up to breakfast ; and Mrs. Parks told me 
 that he was somewhat indisposed, but that by a 
 day's nursing he would doubtless be restored to hirf 
 wonted health. I asked permission to go in and 
 see him ; and it was granted. I had never before 
 — at least not to my knowledge — been in his bed- 
 chamber ; for he had ever forbidden me to go 
 even into his office, as he called the back room 
 from which that chamber opened. I was now 
 struck with the wretchedness of the room in which 
 he lay. It jutted out into the yard — forming as 
 it were a little building of itself, which seemed to 
 have been added on at some time to the back wall 
 of the house. Some wretched old drapery was 
 nailed up behind the bedstead and to a beam above 
 it : the bed itself was low, ricketty, dirty, and 
 comfortless : a fragment of carpet, the colours of 
 which had long faded out, was stretched upon the 
 floor. There were two or three rush-bottomed 
 chairs, of a quaint old-fashioned style ; and there 
 was an antique chest of drawers, with a sloping top 
 which might be let down on pieces of wood that 
 puUed out, so as to form an escritore. Let it be 
 remembered that I entertained the impression that 
 my grandfather was poor : but I was shocked at 
 the seeming penury which to my mind this 
 wretched room naturally betokened. My own 
 chamber and that of Mrs. Parks — though sordid 
 enough,- heaven knows— were better furnished than 
 this. Bursting into tears, I threw myself upon 
 my grandfather's breast, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Don't cry, Ellen," he said, mistaking the cause 
 
 of my grief: "I shall be better soon Indeed 
 
 I am already much improved since the morn- 
 ing " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my dear grandpapa," I ex- 
 claimed, " let us send for a doctor !" 
 
 " A doctor ?" he almost yelled forth : " at your 
 peril do it ! I knew that the instant I said I was 
 at all unwell, there would be a talk of the doctor : 
 but no doctor shall enter my house ! Mrs. Parks 
 can nurse me she is a good kind woman 
 and faithful too— I think— I hope."
 
 SUiBir PEBCT ; OB, THE MEU0IB3 07 AS ACTBES8. 
 
 But the old man appeared to speak with a sort 
 of gasping effort, as if he were not in reality so 
 completely convinced of his housekeeper's disin- 
 terested fidelity as he endeavoured to persuade 
 himself that he was. 
 
 " But your room, dear grandpapa," I exclaimed, 
 " is so uncomfortable — the draught comes in from 
 that window — there is no curtain to it— there are 
 
 no proper draperies to the bed " 
 
 " Curtains enough, Ellen !" interjected Mr. 
 Forsyth. " What more would you have ? Would 
 —would you bave me buy new ones ? It would 
 ruin me ! And as for the doctor, he would run 
 up such a bill, I never, never could pay it — and 
 you would see your poor old grandfather die in a 
 debtor's gaol, Ellen!" 
 
 *' Heaven forbid !" I murmured, amidst the sobs 
 that now convulsed me ; for I firmly believed he 
 was speaking the precise truth, and that he bad no 
 money to spare. 
 
 I did the best I could to make the room seem 
 comfortable— or, in other words, I put it into as 
 good order as circumstances would permit ; and for 
 that day I remained away from school. For the 
 three or four following days, however, I was com- 
 pelled to go to school, though my grandfather re- 
 mained ill in bed and I besought permission to 
 attend upon him. But Mrs. Parks suggested, with 
 an air of great seeming kindness, that a sick 
 chamber was not the place for a young girl like 
 me, and that moreover the school-bill must be paid 
 whether I went or not. This last hint was suffi- 
 cient for my grandfather, who declared it would be 
 ruin and literally picking his pocket if he had to 
 pay for anything which I did not receive the ad- 
 vantage of. Therefore I was compelled to go : 
 but on the fifth morning Mrs, Kelly, seeing how 
 unhappy I was, declared that she would give the 
 girls a whole holiday ; and I knew it was entirely 
 as an excuse to enable me to return home and 
 attend to my grandfather. 
 
 I sped homeward as if on the wings of the wind : 
 the front door was standing ajar — I opened and 
 closed it very gently, so as not to make a noise in 
 the house— and I entered the parlour. There I 
 found Mrs. Parks seated in front of the fire, with 
 her son the clerk to the lawyer at York. Their 
 heads were at the instant very close together j and 
 they seemed to be in a whispering conversation 
 from the midst of which my unexpected entrance 
 abruptly disturbed them. They started up : Tom 
 Parks (as I had heard him familiarly called) was 
 very much in confusion ; and his mother had an 
 expression of countenance which absolutely fright- 
 ened me. But the next instant it vanished ; and 
 resuming her wonted carneying kindness of manner, 
 she asked what had brought me home so soon ? 
 
 I explained that Mrs. Kelly had given the 
 school a whole holiday; and Mrs. Parks said, 
 "Well, Miss Ellen, you shall come in with me 
 and see your grandpapa. I hope he is better. 
 But— but— my dear child — you need not say you 
 
 saw Mr. Parks here He only just dropped in 
 
 to ask how your dear grandpapa is; and it might 
 annoy the old gentleman to think that visitors 
 came while he is lying ill in bed and unable to re- 
 ceive them." 
 
 I was thinking so much of my poor grandfather 
 at the time, and was so impatient to get to him, 
 that I readily promised to follow Mrs. Parks's in- 
 
 junction. For the rest of that day I was almost 
 entirely by the sick couch. The following day was 
 the Sabbath : I went to church with my school- 
 girls in the' morning as usual ; and for the re- 
 mainder of that day also I ministered to Viy in- 
 valid relative. I feared that he was getting worse, 
 though he declared that he was better, and that 
 some medicine for which he had sent from the 
 chemist's, was doing him a world of good. And 
 so indeed it appeared : for on the ensuing morn- 
 ing Mr. Forsyth declared that he was almost well 
 enough to get up, and that therefore I might go 
 to school. 
 
 I did so : but when I went home to dinner at 
 one o'clock, as usual, I found my grandfather still 
 in bed ; and when I again returned at five to tea, 
 I felt convinced that he was worse than he had 
 yet been. Young though I was, something told 
 me that be was sinking. I besought him to take 
 a gla?s of wine. At first he vowed that such ex- 
 travagance would be his ruin : but he evidently 
 felt that be wanted it ; and this feeling got the 
 better of bis niggardness. He took some wine; 
 and then he slept soundly for several hours. 
 
 It was near ten o'clock that evening when he 
 awoke ; and he declared that he was so much 
 better that I might retire to my own chamber with 
 the conviction of finding him convalescent in tho 
 morning. I withdrew accordingly, my heart full 
 of hope : but on seeking my room I did not expe- 
 rience the faintest inclination for slumber. I knelt 
 down and prayed that heaven would spare my 
 grandfather yet awhile, and that his words might 
 be fulfilled relative to the improvement of hia 
 health within the lapse of the next twelve hours. 
 Then I sat upon my pallet, giving way to thought 
 — wondering whether Mrs. Parks would sit up all 
 night with my grandfather— and if she did not, 
 whether he might not require some ministration 
 while she slept ? I knew that the servant-girl 
 would not be employed for such a purpose ; and 
 then I thought to myself it would be cruel for a 
 woman of the housekeeper's age to be deprived of 
 her natural rest night after night, as she had pro- 
 bably been. 
 
 I gently opened the door of communication be- 
 tween our two chambers : Mrs. Parks was not 
 there. I thought that I would descend— just 
 see how my grandfather was getting on— and beg 
 Mrs. Parks to awake me at three or four in tho 
 morning, so that I might take her place by the 
 sick couch and she might have an opportunity of 
 a few hours' repose. Gently I crept down the 
 staircase, without a light : noiselessly did I open 
 the door of the office ; and I was advancing through 
 this room, when certain words which came from the 
 inner one transfixed me to the spot. 
 
 "And if you do not fulfil the oath you have 
 taken — if you fail in one single particular — may 
 the curse of a dying man cling to you for the re- 
 mainder of your existence! — may it poison the 
 very springs of that existence ! — may it stifle your / 
 last prayer in your throat when your own time 
 shall also come !— and may it hurry your soul into 
 everlasting perdition !" 
 
 These were the terrific, the fearful, the appalling 
 words which came upon my ears, smiting my very 
 brain as it were with blow upon blow — making my 
 hair stand on end — curdling my young blood in my 
 veins.
 
 s 
 
 ELIEW PEBCT; OE, the MEMOIES op an ACTEES8. 
 
 And in what an altered voice too were those 
 syllables spoken !— as if that voice were contending 
 difiScultlj and painfully with a hoarse impeding 
 rattling in the throat ; and as if the strongest 
 efforts were required to enable it to dominate over 
 the gaspings which would otherwise have convulsed 
 and strangled. 
 
 " I have sworn," replied Mrs. Parks. " What 
 deeper oath can I take P and why, sir, do you seem 
 to doubt me ?" 
 
 " I don't say that I doubt you," answered my 
 grandfather, as if testily and irritably : " but I 
 know the world so well that even the spectacles of 
 death-beds do not always Ah !" and he gasped 
 " make survivors do their duty. My death- 
 bed is mean, wretched, and desolate enough ! I 
 feel it now — I know it now ! I might have had 
 friends around me— relatives also But no !" 
 
 There was another painful gasp; and then my 
 grandfather added, " Here I am friendless— forlorn 
 — B wretched old man !" 
 
 " Cease these lamentations, dear sir," said the 
 housekeeper. " Shall I give you water ? you have 
 more to tell me " 
 
 " Yes— and I must make haste," continued my 
 grandfather ; " for my strength is failing me. — Ah ! 
 this change which took place so suddenly " 
 
 Here he gasped again : his voice seemed choking : 
 methought he must be dying. I glided through 
 the office : — the reader will have understood that 
 the door of his chamber stood partially open ; and 
 I had reached the threshold above the half.dozen 
 steps which led up into it, when again was I trans- 
 fixed — petrified — with the blood congealed in my 
 veins, bj the next words which came from my 
 grandfather's lips. 
 
 " Yes — may my withering, blighting curse cling 
 to you if you violate your oath ! May it wrap it- 
 self around you like a poisoned garment— eating 
 into your flesh— devouring the tendons— scorching 
 the fibres— searing, burning, and rotting your very 
 nerves! On the other hand my blessing — the 
 blessing of heaven, and of all the angels in it, will 
 be yours if you act faithfully to your solemn, sacred 
 vow !" 
 
 "I will, sir— I will !" said Mrs. Parks. "(Jo on, 
 sir ! — I beseech you to finish !" 
 
 "There— in that bureau," resumed my grand- 
 father, speaking with increasing difficulty, " there 
 is a secret recess— —it is behind the middle drawer 
 
 you press upon what seems to be the head 
 
 of a screw— it touches a spring— the receptacle be- 
 comes revealed. The document is there ! Take 
 it— act as I have told you— act as you yourself 
 have sworn— and may heaven bless you !" 
 
 I was standing, as I have said, upon the thresh- 
 old ; and from that point, by leaning slightly for- 
 ward, I could look into the interior of the cham- 
 ber. The light of a solitary candle played with 
 flickering sickliness upon the ghastly countenance 
 of the old man, — that countenance which, habi- 
 tually cadaverous, was now yellow and corpse- 
 like as he sat up in the miserable bed, pointing 
 with his lank lean hand towards the escritoire. 
 The housekeeper had her back towards me: she 
 was standing by the side of the couch ; and I could 
 not catch a glimpse of her face. I felt an inclina- 
 tion to precipitate myself into my grandfather's 
 arms ; but the spell of mingled awe and terror was 
 upon me— my feet seemed rooted to the spot. The 
 
 candle was upon a table close under the window 
 the night was beautifully clear— the moon was 
 shining— and there was a hard frost. Just at the 
 very instant that my grandfather had given utter- 
 ance to those last words, while still pointing to the 
 escritoire— and with the feeble rays of the candle 
 playing upon his ghastly countenance — another 
 countenance appeared ! 
 
 It was at the window: some one looked in unto 
 the room. I knew the face in a moment: — it was 
 that of the stranger whose visit two years back 
 had so much troubled me ! 
 
 "There! there!— 'tis he!" exclaimed tho dying 
 man : and almost at the same instant a scream 
 thrilled from my own lips. 
 
 The countenance disappeared from the window : 
 the housekeeper started as if galvanized : my 
 grandfather lay gasping in the last agonies of exist- 
 ence. I flew towards him — I knelt by the side of 
 the bed ; and taking his hand, strained it to my 
 lips. He knew me: he made an effort to say 
 something — but he could not. He pressed my 
 hand : more audibly sounded the deadly rattle in 
 his throat — and in a few moments all was silent, 
 save the expression of my agony ! 
 
 Oh ! deep was the anguish which I experienced 
 for a few minutes : and then there came the awfu', 
 the solemn, the almost stupifying conviction that 
 I was looking upon death for the first time. This 
 sensation was gradually absorbed in a certain in- 
 describable numbness of feeling ; and how long I 
 remained in that state I can scarcely tell. I recol- 
 lect that Mrs. Parks, speaking to me with every 
 appearance of the utmost kindness and sjmpatby, 
 induced me to leave the chamber of death : and 
 she led me to my own room. There she assured 
 me that I should always fiud a friend in her, and 
 that she would never desert me. Oh ! how neces- 
 sary consolation was to me then ! I forgot her 
 ugliness — I forgot the sinister expression of her 
 looks — I forgot the suspicions of her sincerity 
 which had so often floated in my mind. Tears 
 came to my relief: I wept in her arms— I thanked 
 her for all she was saying to me. 
 
 Crently did she continue to speak. She asked 
 me how long I had been upon the threshold of 
 the chamber : I frankly told her wherefore I had 
 descended from my room— how long I had been 
 listening — everything I had heard— and what I 
 bad seen at the window. 
 
 She listened with the deepest attention ; and 
 when I had finished, she said, " Yes, my sweet 
 child — your poor dear grandfather made me swear 
 that I would never desert you ; and I will not ! I 
 dare say the paper in the escritoire contains an ac- 
 count of whatsoever little money he may possess 
 
 1 know it cannot be much ; for, as you have 
 
 seen, he was very poor. Eut whatever the amount, 
 it is all for your benefit. As for that stranger 
 
 who dared to look in at the window " 
 
 " Is he indeed a stranger to you ?" I asked. 
 "Assuredly !" responded Mrs. Parks. " I never 
 
 saw him before that time, you know But I 
 
 daresay he is some evil-intentioned man ; and we 
 must guard against him. Now get to bed, my 
 dear child— and sleep, if possible." 
 
 "One word more!" I said, almost suffocated 
 with the anguish that oppressed me. " Must I 
 Dot write to my aunt and cousin to-morrow, to tell 
 theoa of the dreadful thing that has happened P"
 
 Mrs. Parks appeared to reflect deeply for a few 
 minutes ; and then she said with a quickness as if 
 there had really been no necessity for such delibe- 
 ration, " Oh ! certainly, my dear child ! By all 
 means write to your relations to-morrow !" 
 
 Oq the following day I wrote accordingly. In 
 the evening, when I was seated with the house- 
 keeper in the little parlour, and tearfully and 
 mournfully I was speaking of my grandfather's 
 death, she renewed all her protestations of un- 
 utterable kindness. 
 
 " But there is one thing, my dear child, I wish 
 to impress upon you," continued Mrs. Parks. " It 
 would not be well to mention to 3Irs. Wakefield — 
 nor indeed to any living soul — the circumstances 
 attending the poor dear gentleman's death. Every 
 one would be horrified to think that instead of 
 spending his last moments in prayer, he should 
 have given himself up altogether to worldly con- 
 yo. 2.— EiLEX Peect. 
 
 siderations. The clergyman, you know, would not 
 afford him Christian burial if he knew it !" 
 
 " Good heavens !" I ejaculated, shocked at the 
 idea. " I would not for the world give utterance 
 to a syllable that should produce so frightful a re- 
 suit!" 
 
 " And therefore, my dear child," continued Mrs. 
 Parks, "you need only say that you were present 
 at your grandfather's death, and that you heard 
 him confide yourself to my charge, according to 
 the provisions of a document which he placed at 
 my disposal. And as there should be nothing of 
 a horrid or shocking character told about a death- 
 bed, you need not speak of the appearance of 
 that impudent evil-disposed stranger at the win- 
 dow." 
 
 Conceiving Mrs. Parks's arguments and recom- 
 mendations to be strictly reasonable — and indeed 
 admiring her for what I fancied to be her regard
 
 10 
 
 BLLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEEBS. 
 
 for the reputation of her deceased master — I 
 readily promised to follow her counsel. 
 
 In the evening of the ensuing day my aunt and 
 cousin arrived at the house ; and with tears again 
 streaming from my eyes, was I received in their 
 embrace. Few were the questions put to me in 
 reference to my grandfather's death. I answered 
 them in accordance with the recommendations of 
 the housekeeper ; and not being pressed on any 
 particular point, there was not the slightest neces- 
 sity for evasion, much less untruthfulness on my 
 part. 
 
 CHAPTEE ni. 
 
 VAEIODS CHAHGES OS CIECtTMSTANCBS. 
 
 The funeral took place in a very quiet and priyat© 
 manner ; for the deceased had no friends to follow 
 his remains to the grave, and no relatifes por 
 family-connexions besides myself, Mrs. "Wakefield, 
 and Harry. Mrs. Parks however begged of my 
 aunt as a favour that her son Thomas might be 
 allowed to attend the interment, — the old womap 
 alleging that he had always been very much at- 
 tached to the deceased. As for myself, I was over- 
 whelmed with aiBiction when I beheld the cofEu 
 borne out of the house ; and it was long ere Mrs. 
 Wakefield could succeed in consoling me. Even 
 then I begged that I might be permitted to shut 
 myself up alone in my chamber for a few hours ; 
 — and this I did. 
 
 It was evening when I descended again to the 
 parlour ; and there I found Mrs. Parks seated with 
 her son, Mrs. Wakefield, and H»rry. My aunt 
 wept as she strained me in her arms ; and I could 
 not help thinking that there was in her caresses 
 the evidence of a commiseration and compassion 
 for some reason apart from the actual loss which 
 I had sustained in the death of my grandfather. 
 My cousin Henry too looked profoundly mournful ; 
 atffl t ars were glistening in his brown eyes as they 
 were bent in sadness upon me. Then Mfs. Parks 
 declared over and over again that she would do 
 everything to promote my happiness; and I 
 thanked her with all the sincerity of my young, 
 trustful, inexperienced heart. 
 
 On the following day, shortly after breakfast, I 
 found myself alone with my aunt and cousin; and 
 the former said to me, " We are going to bid jou 
 farewell, dear Ellen, in the course of an hour or 
 two." 
 
 " Bid me farewell P" I exclaimed, bursting into 
 tears ; for all in a moment a subject on which I 
 had hitherto scarcely thought was excited in my 
 mind : namely, where and with whom I was 
 thenceforth to live ? 
 
 "Yes, my dear child," answered Mrs. Wake- 
 field, who was evidently much affected, though she 
 endeavoured to conceal her emotions as well as 
 she could ; " your deceased grandfather made cer- 
 tain arrangements which must be carried out. Al- 
 though I have not been selected as the guardian of 
 your welfare, it is not the less dear to me on that 
 account. Mrs. Parks has consulted me— we have 
 discoursed together — and she has sketched out a 
 plan of which I completely approve. You will 
 h^re opportunities for instruction such as have 
 
 hitherto been unknown to you; and I am con- 
 vinced that you will avail yourself of them. Do 
 not weep, dearest Ellen ! I know that you love 
 
 me — and your cousin Harry likewise It is 
 
 hard for you to separate from us rbut circum- 
 stances are imperative — and this is a trial which • 
 your heart has to bear !" 
 
 I was weeping bitterly, and my voice waa 
 choked with convulsing sobs. My aunt and 
 Harry wept also ; and the latter vehemently ex- 
 claimed, " Why, dear mother, cannot Ellen come 
 and live with us altogether P" 
 
 " You are both too young to have all these 
 things explained to you," answered Mrs. Wake- 
 field: "but rest assured that if everything be not 
 as I could have wished, it is at least according to 
 an authority which I cannot dispute. You will 
 
 write to us frequently, Ellen -And remember, 
 
 my dear child — remember," added Mrs. Wakefield 
 impressively, " if you should ever have any cause 
 for unhappiness, you must not hesitftlte to open 
 your heart to me." 
 
 But I will not linger upon this scene. Suffice 
 it to say that in another hour or two I was com- 
 pelled to bid adieu to imy ai^at and cousin : many, 
 m*ny tears on both sides were shed ; and when 
 the door closed behind them, I felt as if my young 
 heart must burst in twain. 
 
 Thomas Parks still remained at the house; and 
 for the ensuing ten days did he sojourn there. 
 Then he took his departure; and on leaving, I 
 beard him say to his mother that they should 
 shortly meet in London. When he was gone Mrs. 
 Parks asked me if I should like to visit the metro- 
 polis P — and I believe I answered in the atfirma- 
 tive ; though it was a matter of complete indif- 
 ference to me whither I went or where I lived, so 
 unhappy was I. At the expiration of a week Mrs. 
 Parks told me to go and bid farewell to Mrs. 
 Kelly, as we were about to depart from Leeds and 
 repair to Loudon. The worthy old schoolmistress 
 embraped me affectionately, and gave me some 
 good advice — though she wound up by observing 
 that she scarcely thought it was needful, as I was 
 so good a girl. I thanked her for all the kindness 
 she had shown me ; and the farewell scene waa 
 another trial for my young heart. 
 
 On the following day I set out with Mrs. Parks 
 for London. We travelled inside the stage-coach ; 
 for there were then no lines of railway connecting 
 the great manufacturing towns with the metro- 
 polis ; — and a tedious journey it was, for I had no 
 heart to derive any charm from its novelty. On 
 arriving in London, we proceeded at once to lodg- 
 ings which Thomas Parks had engaged for our re- 
 ception, and where indeed he himself was already 
 located. They were handsome and commodious 
 apartments ; and I wondered how Mrs. Parks 
 cou.d afford to occupy such fine lodgings : for I 
 believed that my grandfather had died poor, and I 
 could not therefore comprehend how his house- 
 keeper could be well off. But I asked no questions 
 — and no explanations were volunteered. A fort- 
 night was spent in visiting the various public 
 buildings; and the interest afforded thereby, tended 
 to mitigate the affliction which from various cir- 
 cumstances I experienced. 
 
 At the expiration of that interval Mrs. Parka 
 took me to a very large establishment for young 
 ladies in the neighbourhood of Chelsea ; and I waa
 
 ELLEN PBBCT; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEESS! 
 
 11 
 
 introduced to the sclioolmisi: ess as her future pupil. 
 Jrom the discourse which took place between that 
 lady and Mrs. Parks, it was evident that a negotia- 
 tion for my admission to the seminary had already 
 been entered into. I liked the schoolmistress— I 
 liked the whole appearance of the place ; and more- 
 over I longed for the settled employment which 
 the renewal of my studies would afford me, in 
 order that the occupation of my mind should wean 
 me from mournful retrospections. It was agreed 
 that I should enter as a boarder on the following 
 day ; and I returned with Mrs. Parks to the lodg- 
 ings. I should observe that a quantity of new 
 apparel — but all of a mourning character — had 
 been purchased for me since our arrival in 
 London; and I could not help thinking that in 
 every respect the conduct of Mrs. Parks towards 
 me was infinitely more liberal than my grand- 
 father's treatment had ever been — while her man- 
 ner lost none of the kindness she had so studiously 
 shown me since the old man's death. 
 
 On going to bed that night, after the visit to 
 the school, I could not immediately get to sleep. I 
 lay awake thinking of the change which was again 
 taking place in my position, and of the new home 
 which I was to enter on the morrow. I thought 
 likewise of all Mrs. Parks was doing for me : 
 I was angry with myself for ever having fan- 
 cied her to be at all deceitful : I reflected 
 that she was most faithfully fulfilling the pro- 
 mises she made to my grandfather i in his last 
 moments ; and I wondered why he himself should 
 have been so far dubious of her sincerity and good 
 faith as he evidently was, if I might judge of the 
 terrific language in which he addressed her at the 
 time. And then too I thought of my kind affec- 
 tionate aunt ; and I remembered with deepest 
 emotion the last sad looks which had been shed 
 upon me at parting by my cousin's beautiful eyes. 
 
 It was between eight and nine o'clock when I 
 had thus retired to rest on the particular evening 
 of which I am speaking ; and at length a drowsi- 
 ness was coming over me, — when I was startled by 
 the neighbouring church bell proclaiming the hour 
 of ten. Immediately afterwards I heard the door 
 of the sitting-room open on the floor beneath that 
 where my bed-chamber was situated ; and a voice 
 said, " Good bye, then, for the last time." 
 
 That voice completely galvanized me; and I 
 started up in my bed. I recognised it in a mo- 
 ment ! — it was the voice of that stranger whose 
 visit to the house at Leeds upwards of two 
 years back had produced such an effect upon my 
 grandfather, — the stranger whose countenance I 
 had seen at the window of his chamber on the 
 night of his death ! An unknown terror seized 
 on me as I thus started up in my couch : my 
 soul seemed smitten with an unaccountable trouble 
 — for an ominous mystery appeared to invest that 
 stranger. 
 
 " G-ood bye, for the last time !" were the words 
 he had spoken. 
 
 " Hush !" I immediately keard botli Mrs. Parks 
 and her son say, as if speaking in the same breath : 
 and then Parks himself added, '-'Yes— and take 
 care that it is for the last time : or else " 
 
 But I heard no more : the voice appeared sud- 
 denly to cease ; — and if more were said, it must 
 have been in the lowest possible whisper. Almost 
 immediately afterwards I heard the front door of 
 
 the house close ; and then getting out of bed, I 
 shut my own chamber door, which by an accident 
 I had left open. Yes— I shut it, because I did 
 not choose that Mrs. Parks, when ascending to 
 her own bed-room, should have reason to think 
 that I had been listening ; for she might fancy I 
 had done so on purpose. But it was still a long 
 time before sleep visited my eyes. I lay awake, 
 asking myself over and over again who that 
 stranger could be, and what he could possibly want 
 with Mrs. Parks and her son? Indeed, I was 
 astounded that they should have received him at 
 all, after the way in which she had spoken to me 
 of his unpardonable insolence in looking in at the 
 window on the night of my grandfather's death— 
 and still more especially after the opinion she had 
 expressed that he was an evil-disposed person. 
 But, as a matter of course, conjecture helped ma 
 not to any solution of the mystery; and in the 
 midst of my bewildering ruminations I sank into 
 slumber. 
 
 On the following day I entered as a boarder at 
 the school in the neighbourhood of Chelsea. It is 
 not my intention to dwell at unnecessary length 
 upon this period of my existence ; but still some 
 few brief observations are necessary. I was well 
 treated at the school, and was as liberally supplied 
 with pocket-money as the rest of the young ladies. 
 Amongst them was one named Juliet iJIorman ; 
 and with her I became most intimate. This 
 friendship which sprang up between us, was all 
 the more remarkable inasmuch as her disposition 
 was 80 different from mine : for whereas I was 
 timid, bashful, reserved, and pensive, as well as 
 exceedingly studious, she on the other hand was 
 forward, gay, volatile, giddy, and idle. There was 
 however nothing bad about her; and she was 
 thoroughly good-natured. She was very hand- 
 some, and about two years older than myself. 
 What her parents were, I never knew while at 
 school : for she rarely spoke of them — and I noticed 
 that on three or four occasions some allusion was 
 made to her father and mother in the spirit of 
 a spiteful taunt by some of our school companions. 
 The subject was evidently a sore one with Juliet 
 Iforman — but I could not conceive why : for that 
 her parents were wealthy, was apparent from the 
 fact that she herself was the best dressed young 
 lady in the school, and she had more presents from 
 home than any one else. Her father and mother 
 moreover occasionally visited her in their car-^ 
 riage ; and therefore I was naturally at a loss to 
 conceive why Juliet should have any reason to be 
 ashamed of her parentage. I never touched upon 
 the subject in her presence; and I had not the 
 curiosity to put a question thereon to any of the 
 other girls. 
 
 As for the friendship which Sprang up between 
 Juliet and myself— I suppose it was from the cir- 
 cumstance that she attached herself to me almost 
 from the very first day of my entering the school ; 
 and being a senior girl, she had opportunities of 
 showing me kindnesses, for which I was grateful. 
 Though indolent herself, she did not seek to draw 
 me away from my own studies : on the contrary, 
 she commended my diligence — and with a sigh that 
 was stifled in a laugh, expressed the wish that she 
 herself resembled me. She remained two years at 
 the school after I entered it; and then she re- 
 turned no more — nor did I hear of her again
 
 IS 
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 until we met in the great world, as I shall pre- 
 aently have to explain. 
 
 When the first vacation arrived, Mrs. Parks 
 came to fetch me home ; and instead of taking me 
 to a lodging, it was to a handsome well-furnished 
 house in a genteel part of the town. She kept a 
 footman and three female-servants: and as the 
 reader may suppose, I was astonished. But still I 
 dared ask no questions ; and still no explanations 
 were given. An elegant chamber was assigned to 
 my use ; and the treatment I experienced was that 
 of unchanging kindness. I had already written to 
 my aunt and cousin from school, to tell them how 
 happily I was situated : I now wrote again to 
 acquaint them with Mrs. Parks's prosperity, and 
 the luxurious manner in which she lived. The re- 
 plies forwarded by Mrs. Wakefield and Harry, 
 expressed their joy to observe that I wrote so 
 cheerfully ; and my aunt's letter was worded in a 
 style which indicated not the least surprise at the 
 account I had given of Mrs. Parks's opulence. I 
 should add that her son Thomas was now settled in 
 London : he was no longer an attorney's clerk — 
 he lived with his wife and family in a house as 
 handsome as that of his mother ; and a brass plate 
 on the door indicated that he himself was a soli- 
 citor. 
 
 Upwards of three years passed during which I 
 remained at the school, but regularly spending the 
 holidays with Mrs. Parks. I frequently corre- 
 sponded with my aunt and cousin — but did not 
 Bee them the whole time. Mrs. Wakefield invited 
 me to visit them at Sheffield ; but Mrs. Parks de- 
 clared that her attachment for me was too great to 
 permit her to lose me for even a few days during 
 the vacation. I was now sixteen ; and I under- 
 stood that I was only to remain another year at 
 the seminary : but an incident suddenly occurred 
 which caused my prompt removal thence, and in- 
 troduced another important change into my cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 One afternoon I was sent for into the parlour, 
 and was informed by the schoolmistress that my 
 kind guardian — as she denominated Mrs. Parks — 
 had been seized with a most dangerous illness, 
 and that I was to go home to her immediately. 
 Her son's carriage — (for the thriving solicitor kept 
 his equipage now) — had been sent to fetch me. 
 On my arrival at the house I saw that all the 
 blinds were drawn down : the spectacle gave me 
 a cruel shock — and the tale which it told was 
 true : Mrs. Parks had ceased to exist. It was a 
 malady of some choleraic species which had thus 
 suddenly carried her oif ; and though there was 
 not the slightest relationship between herself and 
 me, yet did I weep bitterly for her loss, as I con- 
 ceived that she had proved herself so excellent a 
 friend towards me, and that she had with so much 
 fidelity fulfilled all the pledges made to my grand- 
 father on his death-bed. 
 
 Her son Mr. Parks gave me to understand that 
 my guardianship would thenceforth devolve upon 
 my aunt Mrs. Wakefield; and this intelligence 
 considerably mitigated the grief I felt for the loss 
 of his mother. I accordingly delayed not a moment 
 in writing to my aunt and telling her what had 
 taken place. The return of post brought me a 
 letter to the efiect that she should be with me on 
 the same day that I received it. 
 
 She came — but unaccompanied by Harry ; for he 
 
 was just finishing his education at the Free School 
 to which the interest of my deceased grandfather 
 had procured him admission. Mr. Parks received 
 Mrs. Wakefield with the most perfect civility, and 
 introduced her to his wife and family. When I 
 had an opportunity of speaking to my aunt alone, 
 I mentioned to her the observation which the soli- 
 citor had made, to the effect that she had now be- 
 come my guardian. She embraced me, at the 
 same time giving the tenderest assurances of love 
 and affection, " whatsoever might be the circum- 
 stances in which I might find myself placed." 
 
 This reminded me that Mrs. Wakefield herself 
 was very poor; and I said, "Not for the world, 
 my dear aunt, will I become a burden upon you ! 
 I have received an excellent education " 
 
 " It is as yet premature, my dear child," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Wakefield, " to discuss plans for the 
 future. We know not whether Mrs. Parks has 
 done the fullest act of justice towards you, or 
 not " 
 
 " Oh ! she has behaved most kind !" I exclaimed. 
 " In my childhood I never could have expected 
 that she would prove thus to me in my girl- 
 hood !" 
 
 " You do not understand me, Ellen," said my 
 aunt : " but I will explain myself. You are now 
 old enough- to comprehend certain things which 
 you were too young to discuss or to have men- 
 tioned to you at the time of Mr. Forsyth's death ; 
 and I can gather from your conversation, as I have 
 indeed already seen from your letters, that Mrs. 
 Parks has never been explicit with you on the 
 subject." 
 
 I listened with attention ; and Mrs. Wakefield 
 continued as follows: — 
 
 "You always considered your grandfather a 
 poor man : but on the contrary he was exceedingly 
 rich. He died worth upwards of thirty thousand 
 
 pounds and, Oh, my dear Ellen ! instead of 
 
 doing his duty towards you alas, that I should 
 
 be compelled to speak harshly of the dead!— he 
 left you to the mercy of her who had been his 
 housekeeper and whom by his will he enriched. 
 Yes — it was so ! Everything was left to Mrs. 
 
 Parks: she was his sole executrix she took 
 
 everything — and if she reared you well and ten- 
 derly, it was only in fulfilment of the wishes and 
 the injunctions of the deceased." 
 
 "Yes — I know it, aunt," I said in a low voice 
 and with a visible shudder, as the circumstances 
 of my grandfather's death-bed were vividly con- 
 jured up in my memory. 
 
 " You knew it P How, Ellen ?" asked Mrs. 
 Wakefield. 
 
 A few moments' reflection convinced me that 
 there could now no longer be any harm in making 
 those revelations which I had hitherto kept back ; 
 and I told my aunt everything, as I have already 
 given the details to the reader. I likewise men- 
 tioned all that had occurred in respect to the 
 stranger, — how he had first visited my grandfather 
 — how on the second occasion he had looked 
 through the window of the death-chamber — and 
 how, after we had come up to London, he called on 
 Mrs. Parks and her son at the lodgings. • My aunt 
 listened with so strange an expression of counte- 
 nance that I could scarcely comprehend what it 
 meant : astonishment, dismay, anguish, consterna- 
 tion, all appeared to be blended and depicted
 
 ELLBir PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTBESS. 
 
 13 
 
 there. She asked me numerous questions : she [ brown eyes. His forehead was high and smooth, 
 bade me describe the man according to the i and shining with the light of intelligence. lu 
 minutest details that were in ray recollection— his ' figure ho was slender, upright as a dart, and with 
 
 features, his height, his age, the tone of his voice, 
 everything that I could possibly remember con- 
 cerning him. Then Mrs. Wakefield fell into a 
 profound reverie; and for some minutes was she 
 absorbed in this meditation, which was evidently 
 
 a lithe elasticity of form that was perfectly con- 
 sistent with manly elegance and grace. No wonder 
 that his loving mother should have been proud of 
 such a son ! 
 
 There was, as I have said, a sudden bashfulness 
 
 of a painful character. At length, when I hoped 1 on the part of both Henry and myself as we thus 
 and expected that she would volunteer some expla- ! met after a separation of nearly five years : but ho 
 nation as to what she might happen to know or as ; was the first to conquer that awkwardness ; and 
 to what she thought or surmised, she abruptly ; embracing me, the words " Cousin Nelly " again 
 aaid, " Let us speak no more upon the subject ; issued from his lips. Then he began telling me 
 
 now, dear Ellen ! We must wait till after the 
 funeral of the deceased Mrs. Parks, and see what 
 she has done for you — if anything — in her will." 
 
 Three days afterwards the obsequies took place ; 
 and then came the reading of the will. Mr. 
 
 how tall I had grown, and how surprised he at the 
 first instant was at the change and improvement 
 which had taken place in me— though, as he added 
 with a smile, he ought to have anticipated both. I 
 did not tell him that precisely the same thoughts 
 
 Parks, his wife, three or four of his grown-up sons, ! had been revolving in my own mind in respect to 
 
 my aunt, and myself, were present in the drawing- 
 room, besides a solicitor who had made the will ; 
 for Parks himself had not, as it appeared, drawn 
 up the document, though he was no doubt per- 
 fectly well aware of its contents. It bequeathed 
 everything to him, my name being only mentioned 
 in connexion with some few trinkets belonging to 
 the deceased, and which were to be given me " as 
 memorials of the regard she had entertained for 
 me." 
 
 The ceremony was over : Mrs. Wakefield and I 
 were again alone together. 
 
 "It is as I feared, my dear child," said my aunt : 
 "my worst anticipations have been realized. But 
 it is useless to reflect upon the past — equally use- 
 less to make any comments upon the conduct of the 
 dead. You shall now find a home with me ; and 
 though a humble one, you are nevertheless of a 
 disposition that can content itself with these 
 altered circumstances." 
 
 Many other kind things did Mrs. Wakefield say 
 to me ; and having taken leave of the Parks family 
 fls well as of my schoolmistress in the neighbour- 
 hood of Chelsea, I accompanied my aunt to Shef- 
 field. 
 
 himself; for there was still a certain timidity and 
 bashfulness of feeling which I could not so readily 
 overcome. 
 
 Weeks passed by — they grew into months — and 
 the more I saw of my cousin, the better I liked 
 him. His affection towards his mother— his bro- 
 therly kindness towards myself, were never for au 
 instant checked or ruffled by the slightest change 
 of humour. He was cheerful without levity, and 
 gay without thoughtlessness. His disposition was 
 sanguine and enthusiastic : he lonjed to have an 
 opportunity of entering upon some career in the 
 great world, that he might exert all his energies 
 and prove to his affectionate mother how anxious 
 he was to get on. But it was not so easy to 
 aiford him this opening ; for Mrs. Wakefield knew 
 not precisely in what profession to embark him, 
 and he himself had no choice. He was in the 
 habit of deferring to the opinion of his mother ; 
 and she in this respect had none to give. She had 
 no relatives to assist her with their counsel ; and 
 the retired manner in which her circumstances had 
 compelled her to live, had prevented her from 
 maintaining an intimacy with the few friends she 
 possessed at the time of her husband's death. In 
 a word, she had a son whose education fitted him 
 for anything, but for whom she could no nothing. 
 
 I saw that all this was beginning to prey upon 
 my aunt's mind ; and one day, when alone with 
 her, I took an opportunity of alluding to certain 
 plans which had been for weeks in my thoughts. 
 
 " It is time, my dear aunt," I said, " that I 
 should think of doing something for myself. I 
 have received a good education — and — and— I have 
 
 entertained an idea 1 believe, in short, that I 
 
 am fitted for a governess. I could begin as a nur- 
 sery-governess, you know — with young children— 
 and then, as I get on——" 
 
 " How can 1 suffer you to go out alone in the 
 world, dear Ellen f" interrupted my aunt, caressing 
 me affectionately. 
 
 " And how can I continue a burden to your 
 
 slender resources?" I exclaimed, with tears in 
 
 " No, no — I cannot ! My cousin 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ADVEKTISEMEBTT. 
 
 A PEW months afterwards Henry Wakefield left 
 the Free School, and came home for good. I was 
 prepared, as he entered the house, to rush into 
 his arms, as I had dune at Leeds : but when he 
 made his appearance before me, I was suddenly 
 seized with timidity and confusion. I had for- 
 gotten that it was no longer the boy whom I was 
 to meet, but that it was a young man of nearly 
 nineteen. And he himself seemed to be smitten 
 with a similar feeling of bashfulness as his eyes 
 settled upon me. How tall and handsome had he 
 grown ! — and how admirably did his personal ap- ' my eyes, 
 pearance fulfil all the promises of an earlier period ! Harry——" 
 There was still a certain softness in his masculine : " Ah 1" said my aunt, with a deep sigh; "if ho 
 beauty : the classic features had lost none of their , were only provided for — if he could obtain some 
 delicate outlines : the dark hair curled naturally situation But you see, Ellen, there is no open- 
 about the well-shaped head, as when in his boy- ing, unless it be as a junior clerk in some establish- 
 hood I had admired it ; and there was a world of ment — and then the salary is bo Biaall aod the work 
 inteiligeneo and thought in the handsome dark I is so laborious ——"
 
 14 
 
 BIIEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 " Dear aunt," I said, " my own mind is made 
 rap ! Let me endeavour to earn my livelihood. I 
 tntist do so sooner or later — and why not commence 
 now ? Oh, I should be so happy if eating the 
 bread of my own industry ; and then you would 
 have leisure to look out for something suitable for 
 
 Harry At all events you would not have me to 
 
 maintain in idleness." 
 
 A great deal more conversation toot place, which 
 I need not however describe : suflSce it to say that 
 I at length succeeded in wringing a coQsent, 
 though a reluctant one,, from Mrs. Wakefield, that 
 I should carry my design into execution. I did 
 not however mention it to Henry ; and I found 
 that my aunt herself kept silent upon the point. 
 There seemed to be a sort of tacit understanding 
 between us that we would not broach until the 
 last minute a topic which we knew would sadden 
 him. 
 
 I wrote up to Mr. Parks in London, explaining 
 to him my wishes and intentions, and begging that 
 he would interest himself amongst his numerous 
 friends and connexions to procure me some such 
 situation as I desired. He wrote a somewhat cold 
 and distant reply, to the effect that my app4ication 
 arrived at an unfortunate moment, as he was just 
 on the point of starting with his wife and some of 
 his family on a Continental trip ; but that he had 
 done for me all that lay in his power, by inserting 
 half a dozen advertisements in the London papers 
 " at his own expense." When I showed this letter 
 to my aunt, she sighed, shook her head slightly, 
 and said, " He who became enriched through the 
 medium of your grandfather and to the prejudice 
 of yourself, should have done more for you!" 
 
 This observation gave rise to a discourse upon 
 past topics ; and with some little hesitation, I said, 
 " You remember, my dear aunt, that when in Lon- 
 don you led me to understand that after the fune- 
 ral of Mrs. Parks you might give me some ex- 
 planations " 
 
 " JSTo, my dear child, you are mistaken," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Wakefield. " I had already explained 
 everything that was necessary ; and if I said that 
 we could wait ere we discussed any plans for the 
 future, it was only because I wished to see whether 
 Mrs. Parks would remember you in her will." 
 
 " But, my dear aunt, relative to that stranger — 
 that man of whom I spoke to you " 
 
 " Of him I have nothing to say, Ellen." 
 
 The discourse was thus cut short — not with 
 petulance by my aunt, because an angry impa- 
 tience was incompatible with the sweetness of her 
 disposition — but with & certain serious firmness 
 which forbade me from returning to the topic. 
 
 In the course of about ten days I received a 
 letter, written in an elegant female hand, and which 
 was in answer to the advertisements inserted in the 
 London papers. It set forth that the writer was 
 the wife of Colonel Lennie — that they had two 
 little girls of the respective ages of six and eight, 
 who were too delicate to be sent to school, and for 
 whom a genteel governess was required. It fur- 
 ther appeared that the terms in which my adver- 
 tisements had been worded — or rather those which 
 Mr. Parks had inserted on my behalf— precisely 
 depicted the qualifications which Colonel and Mrs. 
 Lennie required : the conditions they themselves 
 offered were liberal ; and the note concluded with 
 the assurance that I should find a comfortable 
 
 home and kind treatment under their roof, I 
 should observe that if I accepted the situation I 
 was to set off with the least possible delay, and my 
 travelling-expenses would be paid. 
 
 In one sense I was rejoiced on the receipt of 
 this letter : I experienced the pride and satisfac- 
 tion of feeling that I need no longer be a burden 
 on my aunt's humble means, and that I should 
 eat the bread of my own industry. On the other 
 hand, I was grieved at the prospect of separating 
 from my beloved relatives : but still my resolution 
 wavered not. Mrs. Wakefield experienced kindred 
 feelings : she was glad that my laudable views 
 were to receive a fulfilment under auspices which 
 seemed so favourable ; while on the other hand 
 she was afilicted at the idea of parting from one 
 whom she loved as if it were a very dear daughter. 
 
 And now it became necessary to break the intel- 
 ligence to Henry. For the first few moments he 
 appeared smitten with a consternation : then the 
 tears started into his eyes ; and he vowed that he 
 would rather address himself to the meanest and 
 humblest avocation than permit me to leave that 
 house which he looked upon as my home. But 
 without lingering unnecessarily upon this scene, 
 suffice it to say that Harry was overruled bv ray 
 representations, though he was profoundly afflicted 
 at the idea of this separation. And when the 
 parting moment arrived, what pangs did my heart 
 experience ! what tears were shed ! what evidences 
 of grief were manifested by all three ! My aunt 
 reproached herself for having permitted the matter 
 to go so far : Harry, almost on his knees, besought 
 me to remain : but it was too late to retract, — 
 though there was an instant when my cousin's 
 looks and words and tears made all my resolution 
 dissolve into weakness. I however regained my 
 fortitude : I tore myself from their arms ; and as 
 the vehicle drove away from the door, I caught 
 through the dimness of my own tears the last 
 tender look which was flung upon me by my 
 cousin's eloquent eyes. 
 
 On arriving in the metropolis, at about five 
 o'clock in the afternoon of a cold cheerless wintry 
 day, I at once entered a hackney-coach and pro- 
 ceeded to the direction indicated in the letter I 
 had received. The house was situated in Hunter 
 Street, Brunswick Square: but the moment the 
 hackney-coach stopped at the front door, a police- 
 constable who happened to be passing, came and 
 looked into the vehicle. I was half frightened, 
 half indignant at what I considered to be an act 
 of unpardonable rudeness : but the conotable, im- 
 mediately touching his hat, said in a very respectful 
 manner, " I beg your pardon. Miss — but have you 
 come in the hope of taking a situation as governess 
 at this house ?" 
 
 " Certainly," I answered, surprised as well as 
 rendered uneasy by the question. " Do not Colonel 
 and Mrs, Lennie live here ?" 
 
 " A man calling himself Colonel Lennie did 
 live here, Miss," responded the constable : " but 
 he is a villain and an impostor — and he was taken 
 into custody this morning for his conduct towards 
 
 a young lady But I need say no more j and I 
 
 am sorry if you have been deceived by him." 
 
 Good heavens, what a blow ! I was dismayed 
 and stupefied : I sank back in the coach like one 
 annihilated : my despair was too great for tears. 
 It was dusk: the lamps were lighted; and th«
 
 ELIiEir PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP Alf ACTEBB8. 
 
 15 
 
 rays of one streaming into the vehicle, showed the 
 policeman the effect which his words had produced 
 upon me. He was exceedingly civil, and humanely 
 inquired whether he could possibly do anything for 
 me. The questions which ho thus put aroused me 
 to a sense of the necessity of immediate action. 
 My first thought was to return with the least pos- 
 sible delay to Sheffield : but then the idea struck 
 me that although I had been so cruelly deceived 
 in this first endeavour to procure a situation, my 
 nest might be more successful, and that there 
 must be plenty of really honest and good families 
 who required a governess. My resolve was there- 
 fore taken; and having hastily explained to the 
 constable how I had come up from Sheffield for 
 the purpose of taking this situation, I begged him 
 to direct me to a hotel or some respectable lodg- 
 ing where I might find temporary quarters. 
 
 At the very moment the policeman was reflect- 
 ing with his finger upon his lip, he had to stand 
 aside to make way for two ladies who were passing. 
 One was an elderly dame — the other was young ; 
 and both were very handsomely dressed. The 
 light of the lamp streamed full upon the counte- 
 nance of the younger lady : a cry of joy burst 
 from my lips— and I called her by name. It was 
 my former schoolfellow Juliet Norman. 
 
 The ladies at once stopped : Juliet came up to the 
 coach window — she recognised me — and in a few 
 hasty words I explained the villany of the fraud 
 to which I had been made a victim, and the con- 
 sequent embarrassment in which I found myself, 
 without a friend in London. 
 
 "No, not without a friend, my dear Ellen!" 
 quickly responded Juliet, again pressing my hand 
 with affectionate warmth. " This is my mother :" 
 and then she spoke aside for a few instants to 
 Mrs. Norman. 
 
 This lady in her turn addressed me in the 
 kindest manner, and begged me to make her house 
 my home. It was situated close by, only half-a- 
 dozen doors off; and thither the hackney-coach 
 proceeded — Mrs. Norman herself insisting upon 
 rewarding the policeman when I mentioned the 
 civility with which he had treated me. 
 
 I soon found myself in a comfortable well- 
 furnished drawing-room, seated by the side of a 
 cheerful fire, in the company of Juliet and her 
 parents. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were about of the 
 same age— namely, fifty. The lady possessed the 
 remains of great beauty : indeed she might 
 still be considered a handsome woman. She how- 
 ever had no small quantity of rouge upon her 
 cheeks ; and she was dressed in a youthful style of 
 mingled finery and coquetry. Mr. Normau was 
 likewise inclined to corpulence: his grey hair was 
 very thick, and must have been luxuriant at a more 
 youthful period ; but he wore neither whiskers nor 
 beard. He was very fashionably dressed, and dis- 
 played a profusion of jewellery. 
 
 As for my old friend Juliet, — she looked most 
 superbly handsome ; and she was not only apparelled 
 with richness, but likewise in a manner calculated 
 to display her charms to the utmost advantage. She 
 was now nearly nineteen years of age : she was tall 
 and admirably formed. Her hair was dark, though 
 not of such raven blackness as my own ; and her 
 eyes were of a blue as deep as that of the violet. I 
 used the proper expression when I termed her 
 handsome rather than beautiful ; for her features, 
 
 though perfectly regular, were somewhat largely- 
 chiselled. She had a fine aquiline profile— rich full 
 lips — and a chin which being slightly prominent, 
 and rounded so as to complete the oval of her coun- 
 tenance, gave to that countenance a somewhati 
 voluptuous expression. She possessed a splendid 
 set of teeth : her neck was long and arching — her 
 bust had the development of a Hebe, with an ad- 
 mirable slope of the shoulders : but her waist was 
 of a wasp-like thinness, and her figure had all the 
 lightness of a sylph, with its tall graceful stature 
 and with its sweeping length of limb. I had 
 known her at school as giddy, gay, and volatile, but 
 with nothing mischievous in her disposition, and 
 ever obliging and good-natured : I had not now 
 been half-an-hour in her society before I discovered 
 that these characteristics of my friend Juliet had 
 continued unchanged — while they had acquired the 
 addition of a certain little coquetry, as if she knew 
 that she was handsome and courted admiration. 
 
 The tale of the villanous trick which I had been 
 played, was narrated over again to Mr. Norman j 
 and he expressed his sympathy in the kindest 
 terms. He bade me make his house my home as 
 long as ever I thought fit ; and Mrs. Norman lite- 
 rally overwhelmed me with her caresses and her 
 attentions. At half-past six o'clock we descended 
 to the dining-room, where an elegant repast was 
 served up ; and a variety of wines appeared upon 
 the board. I could not help observing that Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman drank a great deal of champagne, 
 and that even Juliet herself partook of three or four 
 glasses without the slightest pressing, and with the 
 air of one who was merely following an ordinary 
 custom. A footman and page, both in elegant 
 liveries, waited at table ; indeed the handsome styk 
 in which the house was furnished, and the way iri 
 which the Normans lived, indicated that they were 
 very well off. 
 
 At about ten o'clock Juliet considerately observed 
 to me that she felt convinced I must be very much 
 fatigued after travelling all the way from Sheffield ; 
 and she offered to conduct me to my chamber. I 
 thankfally accepted the proposal : and she led me 
 to an exquisitely furnished apartment, with a dress- 
 ing-room adjoining. There she left me, with an 
 intimation that I must not think of getting up in 
 the morning until I felt quite disposed, as they 
 were very late people. 
 
 I slept soundly enough that night, for I was in- 
 deed very mueh fatigued : but I awoke at my usual 
 hour in the morning — namely, at about seven 
 o'clock. The house was perfectly silent : there did 
 dot even appear to be a servant moving about. I 
 therefore lay another hour; and then I got up, a 
 was just finishing my toilet, when Juliet, with no- 
 thing on but a morning wrapper, and her naked 
 feet thrust into slippers — her beautiful hair floating 
 in luxuriant negligence over her half-naked 
 shoulders— came gliding into the room. She was 
 surprised to find that I was not only up, but so 
 nearly dressed : and flinging herself with an air of 
 languor into a large easy chair, she said, " I should 
 have lain in bed for at least another hour : but I 
 came to assure myself that you had everything you 
 required. Dear me ! you are dressing without a 
 fire — and it is bitterly cold ! No hoc water either ! 
 My dear Ellen, why did you not ring the bell for 
 one of the maids i" 
 
 I assured Miss Normau that I- did nut find the
 
 16 
 
 KLLEJr PEKCT; OB, THE HEM0IE3 OP AIT ACTKES3, 
 
 chamber so cold ao she represented it, and that I i how they are earned. In a word, my dear Ellen," 
 had not needed anything at the hands of the ser- ; — and now she grew serious once more— "my 
 vants. father is an actor, my mother an actress, and I am 
 
 " Well, now that you are dressed," she ex- ' a ballet-dancer." 
 claimed, starting up from her chair and performing ' For a few moments I was so surprised by these 
 what appeared to mo a sort of pirouette, " come [ announcements as to be rendered perfectly speech- 
 to my room and let us chat while I drag myself less; and I have no doubt that I surveyed Juliet 
 through the details of my own toilet. Breakfast , in a manner which naturally led to the inference 
 will not be ready for the next hour— and besides, that her next observations implied, 
 we have plenty of things to talk about." " I hope, my dear Ellen," she said, "you do not 
 
 I accompanied Miss Iv'orman to her chamber, think the worse of us on this account ? I remem- 
 which was fitted up in the most elegant and luxu- her that when at school the girls used sometimes to 
 rious manner. The draperies of the windows and taunt me with the fact that my father was what 
 of t:.e French bedstead were crimson, with a rich they used to call a phy-actor and my mother a 
 yellow border : a cheerful fire was blazing in the play-actress : but I likewise recollect that you 
 grate ; and near it a sofa was placed in the best never displayed any curiosity to know what their 
 position for any one sitting or reclining upon it to allusions meant. I was then ashamed of my 
 receive the full benefit of the heat thrown out. parents' profession — I do not know why — unless it 
 A superb looking-glass surmounted a mantel were because the girls themselves seemed to think 
 covered with costly ornaments and nick-nacks, it was something to be derided. But now I am 
 The toilet-table was arranged with an elegance not ashamed of it. And you, my dear Ellen——" 
 amounting to the most refined fastidiousness ; and " Oh ! never, never," I exclaimed, with the 
 near it was a full-length mirror or psyche. A half- gushing enthusiasm of my grateful heart, "can I 
 opened door afforded a glimpse of a bath-room be ashamed of those good friends whom heavea 
 furnished with every luxurious appliance for such sent me in the moment of my need, and who are 
 a place. The feet trod upon a carpet of uncommon treating me with such kindness !" 
 thickness : the atmosphere of the chamber was Thus speaking, I threw my arms about Juliet's 
 warm and perfumed ; and it altogether seemed neck, and embraced her affectionately, 
 adapted for a lady of rank and quality. " I know very well," continued Miss 2forman, 
 
 " In order that we may converse without re- " that it is the fashion to run down actors, actresses, 
 straint," said Juliet, seating herself at the toilet- and ballet-dancers, in respect to their private cha- 
 table, " I will dispense with the attendance of my racters ; and I likewise know, alas ! that there are 
 maid ; and I can assure you, dear Ellen," she too many on the stage whose conduct has been 
 added, with one of her merry laughs, " it is a great only too well calculated to give rise to this sweep- 
 sacrifice I am making on your account." ing reflection upon the whole of us. But in all 
 "Then wherefore do it ?" I asked. ""We have professions there are the respectable as well as the 
 'nothing of such very great importance to say to disreputable ; and I flatter myself, dear Ellen, that 
 
 each other for the present unless indeed you the name of Iformaa has been honourably borne 
 
 mean to advise me how I ought to act in the cir- ' by my parents, and will not be disgraced by their 
 cumstances in which I am placed ; and that would daughter." 
 
 be most kind of you." , Juliet spoke these words with a slight flush 
 
 " I think, my dear Ellen," proceeded Juliet, now ' upon the cheeks, and yet with a calm dignity 
 beginning to comb out the rich masses of her hair, which rendered her language alike impressive and 
 " that you have some little secret to learn : for it touching. There was nothing giddy nor volatile 
 strikes me, from two or three things you said last about her at that moment : her speech and her 
 evening, that you are really unacquainted with the demeanour indicated that if she had her gay and 
 profession, avocation, employment — or whatever thoughtless intervals, she could likewise have her 
 you may choose to call it — which my parents and serious and thoughtful ones. I felt at the instant 
 I pursue." more irresistibly attracted towards her than ever : 
 
 " I should conceive Mr. Norman to be a gentle- — I was inspired with the same love, and pride, 
 man of independent property," I observed : and and confidence on her behalf as if she were a very 
 then I recollected how, when at school, Juliet had dear sister. 
 
 so seldom alluded to her parents, and how when " You see," she continued, " as my parents bo- 
 she happened to provoke any other girl, some long to the theatrical profession, they could do no- 
 mysteriously significant taunt was thrown out in thing else with me ; for these avocations are in 
 reference to her parentage. nine cases out of ten hereditary. They educated 
 
 "Independent means indeed !" cried Juliet, with me well, as you know or rather they gave mo 
 
 a laugh : but almost immediately becoming serious, the opportunities for a good education, although I 
 she added, " I do not really think that my father am afraid I did not benefit by them so much as I 
 is independent of the world to the amount of fifty ought to have done. But if I had turned out the 
 guineas. But he has an excellent salary — my cleverest girl in existence, what else could they 
 mother likewise — and I also am very well paid." have done with me except making me an actress 
 At this moment Juliet, shaking back her glossy or a dancer ? For who would receive into his 
 tresses over her superb shoulders of milky white- family as a governess the daughter of an actor and 
 cess, happened to look round towards the place an actress ? And then, too, my parents naturally 
 where I was seated ; and she perceived that I was j have their pride ; and they could not think of 
 surveying her with astonishment. i putting me into a shop to make a tradeswoman of 
 
 " Ah!" she exclaimed, bursting out into another ; me. Thus you see, my dear Ellen, persons in our 
 gay light laugh ; " I forgot that I was talking too ' profession are under the influence of circumstances 
 fast, and speaking of salaries without telling you which rule them imperiously.— However," added
 
 ELLEX PEECT; OK, IIIi; MEMOISS OF A^■ ACTf-EJo. 
 
 ^^Y\ ' ZC\ ^^^i , 1 1.1:!N§=^^^ 
 
 
 Juliet Norman, suddenly recovering all her wonted 
 gaiety — escaping as it were from her seriousness, 
 and smiling with the peculiar witchery which be. 
 longed to her, and which best became that rich 
 red mouth and those brilliant teeth; — " I have in- 
 flicted upon you a very long tirade ; and you may 
 perhaps think it a laboured apology to account 
 for the one fact, that I am a dancer !" 
 
 "And do you like the stage?" I inquired. 
 
 "Yes — it suits me well enough," responded 
 Juliet. " I am only employed for a portion of 
 the year — and even then my labours are not very 
 arduous. So you see I have plenty of holidays ; 
 and this suits my somewhat indolent disposition. 
 I have been very successful as a dancer; and I 
 may say without vanity that I have made a little 
 noise in the theatrical world — I have been well 
 spoken of and well written of." 
 
 " How singular," I exclaimed, " that I never 
 should have heard your name mentioned in con- 
 No. 3.— Ellen 1'erct. 
 
 nexion with these successes. I should have been 
 so pleased !" 
 
 '•' Ibank you, my dear Ellen— I am sure you 
 would. It is not however at all surprising that 
 you should have remained in the dark upon the 
 
 subject But tell me, did you never hear of a 
 
 certain Mademoiselle Delessert ?" 
 
 "To be sure!" I ejaculated. "I remember, 
 during the very last vacation that I spent with 
 the deceased Mrs. Parks, I heard her speaking 
 with some friends relative to that danseuse. Tbey 
 had all been to see her ; and they were in raptures. 
 I was to have gone on another occasion : but some- 
 thing occurred to prevent it. Of course you know 
 this Mademoiselle Delessert of whom you ara 
 speaking ?" 
 
 " I know her as well as I know my ownself," 
 exclaimed Juliet, with the merriest peal of silver 
 laughter ringing harmoniously from her lips; "for 
 I am Mademoiselle Delessert."
 
 18 
 
 EMiEW PEECT; oh, the MEMOIES OE as ACTEES9. 
 
 " Indeed !" I exclaimed in astonishment. " But 
 wherefore that assumed dbme ?" 
 
 " Because nothing English goes down with the 
 English*' replied Juliet. "Tou see, my dear 
 Ellen, the English are constantly boasting of 
 everything that is English: and yet they patro- 
 nise everything that is foreign. In the fashion- 
 able world a gentleman must have his French 
 valet and a lady her French maid ; the cook must 
 be French, and the dishes served upon the table 
 must be French likewise. The hairdresser must 
 be French ; watches, lace, silks, perfumes, gloves, 
 fashions, everything must be foreign. The gen- 
 tleman will patronise a German tailor, and the 
 lady a French milliner. Music must be foreign — 
 singers and dancers must be foreign likewise. 
 And then, don't you see, my dear Ellen," added 
 Juliet, with another merry laugh, '"'I am not a 
 dancer, nor an actress, nor anything at all with 
 
 an English name 1 am a Jigurante or an 
 
 artiste." 
 
 " And Mr. and Mrs. Norman ?" I said inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Oh ! they keep their right names," exclaimed 
 Juliet, " and are not compelled upon the stage to 
 repudiate their own country and puss as the natives 
 
 of another. They perform in English pieces • 
 
 though, by the bye, they are only called English 
 pieces because they are rendered into the English 
 language; for the fact is that they are in reality 
 French. In a word, everything must bo foreign, 
 or have a foreign source, or be in some way con- 
 nected with something that is foreign, to please 
 the English fashionable world. But I was going 
 to observe that my father and mother are really 
 eminent in their profession, and can always com- 
 mand good engagements — I mean when anything 
 is doing in the theatrical world ; because there is 
 sometimes a lull, or a check, or a stagnation there 
 as well as in other things. For instance, the week 
 before last the manager to whose company my 
 father and mother belonged, suddenly closed his 
 doors — put up a placard with something about 
 'unavoidable circumstances' in it— and then took 
 a walk to Basinghall Street." 
 
 "And what did he do there?" I asked, quite 
 innocently. 
 
 "Went into the Bankruptcy Court," replied 
 Juliet, laughing at my ingenuous simplicity. " But 
 a»y father and mother will enter upon a new en- 
 gagement elsewhere next Monday; and I have 
 likewise an engagement at the same place. Our 
 united salaries will amount to twenty-five guineas 
 a week; and thus you see that we may always 
 reckon upon earning sufScient to live in com- 
 fort " 
 
 " In luxury, I should say," was my interjected 
 observation. 
 
 " Well, in luxury, if you like to call it so," re- 
 plied Juliet. " We keep a carriage — you have 
 seen a little how we live — we give gay parties — 
 and we visit a great deal. And then too wo have 
 acquaintances amongst the highest aristocracy — I 
 mean of course the male portion of it : but my 
 father and mother are always very particular 
 whom they suffer to approach me ; and if they 
 were not, it would be just the same — for I should 
 be particular myself. — But really, my dear Ellen, 
 I have been speaking so much of my own affairs 
 that I have quite forgotten your's. You last night 
 
 told us exactly how you were situated; and after 
 you had gone to bed, I sat up with my father and 
 mother for two hours talking about you." 
 
 " It was indeed very kind," I observed ; " and I 
 am most grateful for all the interest your parents 
 and yourself are taking in me." 
 
 " My father said," continued Juliet, " that it 
 was a very great pity you should think of going 
 out into the world as a governess — to occupy a 
 false position, a little above that of the servants of 
 the house, and infinitely below that of the master 
 and mistress — to be incessantly at the mercy of the 
 lady's caprices, and perhaps exposed to the gentle- 
 man's impudence — to have to deal with a parcel of 
 children whose faults you have not sufficient 
 authority to curb, whose love you cannot win, and 
 whose ignorance perhaps you cannot overcome — to 
 be miserably paid and worse treated " 
 
 " Good heavens, Juliet !" I exclaimed in con- 
 sternation ; " what picture is this which you are 
 drawing ?" 
 
 " The picture of the life of a governess," an- 
 swered Miss Norman, with a mournful seriousness. 
 " I am not speaking thus, my dear Ellen, to dis- 
 hearten and render you wretched on the threshold 
 of a profession which you have thought of adopt- 
 ing ; but in the most friendly spirit I am preparing 
 you for all you will have to encounter if you per- 
 sist in entering it. Nay, more— I will candidly 
 confess that I am endeavouring to dissuade you 
 from it. A young lady with your sensitive feel- 
 ings— with your kind and excellent disposition — 
 would discover the life of a governess to be intol- 
 erable !" 
 
 " But what am I to do P" I exclaimed, bursting 
 into tears. " Nothing shall induce me to return 
 to my aunt, in order to be a burden upon her re- 
 sources. No !" I added vehemently, at the same 
 time brushing away those tears ; " I will sooner 
 endure anything — encounter any wretched- 
 ness " 
 
 " Cheer up, my sweet friend," interrupted 
 Juliet, doing her best to console me. " Do you 
 imagine that the profession of a governess is the 
 only one in the world ?" 
 
 " No," I responded : and then, as I in my art- 
 less inexperience surveyed Juliet almost enviously, 
 I added, " No — for I see that you yourself are 
 pursuing one which is far more happy, lucrative, 
 and agreeable." 
 
 " Come," said Miss Norman, " we have talked 
 sufficiently upon the subject this morning. My 
 father's house is your home for as long as you like 
 to render it so ; and we shall therefore find plenty 
 of leisure to discuss plans for your future advan- 
 tage." 
 
 " But I ought to do something speedily," I said ; 
 "because I must write to my aunt, who will be 
 anxious concerning me " 
 
 "Write by all means," interrupted Juliet : " tell 
 her how you have been treated in respect to the 
 
 advertisement but tell her likewise that you 
 
 have fallen in with friends who are proud and de- 
 lighted to have you with them. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, it would be just as well if you were not to 
 mention what profession we follow." 
 
 " No — I will not mention it, my dear Juliet," I 
 answered : for methought that it was a request 
 that was thus made rather than a recommendation 
 which was given.
 
 ELLEBT PERCY; OS, THE MEM0IE8 OF AH ACXr.SSg: 
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE inEATEB. 
 
 Theee or four days elapsed, during wliich I re- 
 mained perfectly undecided aa to the course which 
 I should adopt. Mrs. ]!v'orman was a good-hearted 
 woman, and well-meaning, though somewhat fri- 
 volous ; and when I consulted her she said all sorts 
 of things against the life of * governess. Mr. 
 Norman likewise spoke to me on the subject : he 
 reasoned more lucidly and collectedly — and he cer- 
 tainly advanced a variety of arguments to support 
 all that had been previously told me by his daugh- 
 ter. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Norman hinted at a 
 recommendation that I should seek the stage as a 
 profession : but Juliet dropped several intimations 
 to the eflfect that I should do well to turn my 
 thoughts in that direction. 
 
 It was on a Wednesday evening that I had ar- 
 rived at the Normans' house ; and it was on the 
 following Monday that these worthy people were 
 to enter upon their new engagement. They had 
 to attend the theatre in the middle of the day for 
 the rehearsal : and they proposed that I should 
 accompany them. I must confess that I was long- 
 ing for this invitation; and I therefore gladly 
 accepted it. I was anxious to see something more 
 of a theatrical life— to look at it closely — to ascer- 
 tain all that was required of its votaries— and to 
 obtain an insight into its details. I had seen how 
 •well the Normans lived : I found them perfectly 
 contented with their lot : — and deeply solicitous of 
 earning my own livelihood, I was already more 
 than half willing to embrace a profession which 
 methought would realize my hopes. Youth is san- 
 guine; and I flattered myself that if I did once 
 adopt the stage I should succeed. I did not how- 
 ever like the idea of becoming a dancer so much as 
 taking the part of a dramatic actress. As for the 
 opinions which the world entertained of the votaries 
 of the art, I had never heard more on the subject 
 than Miss Norman herself had mentioned to me 
 on the occasion already described ; and the last im- 
 pression left upon my mind was that persons who 
 conducted themselves properly and respectably 
 might surmount the general prejudice, and stand 
 out in admirable contrast with the disreputable and 
 bad. I had no idea of contaminating influences ; 
 and in the innocent confidence of my own pure 
 heart, I believed it to be perfectly possible for a 
 young female to enter the theatrical sphere with- 
 out having her own fair fame undeservedly sul- 
 lied. 
 
 I proceeded with Mr. and Mrs. Norman and 
 their daughter to the theatre which was to be the 
 scene of their new engagement ; and on arriving 
 there I accompanied Juliet to her own dressing- 
 room. She was to be the principal danseuse in the 
 ballet ; and therefore she was treated with the ut- 
 most consideration and had a dressing-room appro- 
 priated to her sole use. Her maid was already 
 there, making such arrangements as were suitable 
 to the young lady's ideas of comfort ; a cheerful 
 fire was blazing in the grate; and as some time 
 would elapse before her presence was required by 
 the ballet-master, we sat down on a sofa to con- 
 verse. I turned the discourse entirely upon thea- 
 tricals and a theatrical existence ; and as Juliet now 
 
 entered into minuter details than she had previously 
 done, I grew more and more seriously inclined to 
 embrace the profession, if in process of time it 
 should be found that I possessed the suitable quali- 
 fications. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman went through their parts 
 in the rehearsal ; and then they joined us in the 
 dressing-room, where luncheon was served up. This 
 refreshment being partaken of, Mr. Norman retired, 
 and Juliet began dressing to practise in the ballet 
 in which she was to appear in the evening. I had 
 never been in a theatre before, and therefore was 
 until now utterly unacquainted with the costumes 
 that were used upon the stage. I must confess 
 that I was at first shocked when I beheld Juliet 
 arrayed in th:\t gauzy drapery, which according to 
 my ideas was scant even to immodesty : but I could 
 not help admiring the beauty of her personal ap- 
 pearance. I went forth with Mrs. Norman on the 
 stage to witness the rehearsal of the ballet ; and 
 when I beheld a swarm of young females all appa- 
 ralled in a similar airy costume, I speedily grew 
 accustomed to it, and the first impression it created 
 wore off. The ballet-master made his appearance 
 with his violin : the dancing commenced — and I 
 soon found myself yielding to a sensation of in- 
 creasing delight at the spectacle which I thus con- 
 templated. 
 
 With Juliet's performance I was perfectly 
 ravished : the mingled elegance and grace which 
 characterized all her movements, the fairy light- 
 ness of her evolutions, the harmonious accom- 
 paniment of the looks with the gestures, attitudes, 
 and steps themselves— all seemed in my estima- 
 tion to constitute a real talent — a veritable genius. 
 I had hitherto looked upon dancing as a mere 
 recreation, too frivolous to deserve the serious 
 denomination of an accomplishment : but now it 
 appeared in my eyes to be not merely an accom- 
 plishment — for Juliet Norman elevated it into the 
 very poetry of art itself. There was one portion 
 in the ballet where she had to dance alone for 
 several minutes, her companions beiig arrayed in 
 a semicircle and remaining stationary for the 
 time. In this part of the performance Juliet 
 transcended her previous achievements; and even 
 in that rehearsal so great was her triumph over 
 the greatest difficulties of the art, that when she 
 ceased she ' Js greeted by the applause of all pre- 
 sent. Her lather and mother surveyed her with 
 looks of radiant admiration; and when she re- 
 joined us I congratulated her enthusiastically on 
 her performance. 
 
 Every day during that week did I accompany 
 my friends to the rehearsal in the forenoon ; and 
 every evening did I visit the theatre with them. 
 An elderly lady — the widow of an actor of some 
 eminence in his time — gave me a seat in her box, 
 Mrs. Norman having especially recommended me 
 to her care. The more I saw of theatrical life, the 
 more I liked it : but my inclination still pointed 
 towards the drama in preference to the ballet. 
 Though the greater portion of my repugnance to 
 the gauzy, scant, and semi-transparent vesture of 
 the ballet-dancers had passed away, yet did I feel 
 a blush mantling upon my cheeks whenever I 
 thought to myself that if I happened to decide 
 upon the ballet I should have to appear in such 
 an apparel before that densely packed crowd of 
 spectators. On the other hand, when I beheld
 
 Mrs. >'orman and the other acticBaM in the drama, 
 spearing in coetumes vhidi no one need blush to 
 vear, I vas led to ri^et raj deeuioa on that 
 branch ; and I eren felt that thento I coaU de- 
 Tote osTself vith a zeal and an enthusiasm vhich 
 would enable me compktelj to sormoant mj na- 
 tural diffidence, shjness, and timidity. Aeeord- 
 inglj, at the end of the week I frankly intimated 
 to Juliet the desire which I entertained. 
 
 I obeerred that her large violet eyes gleamed 
 vith satis&ction at this annooncement ; and she 
 ■aid to me, " I am rejoiced, Ellen, at the resolTC 
 you have adopted, because from the very first I 
 felt convinced that the profession of the stage 
 would suit yoo. Besides, the friendship I had 
 formed for you at school revived the moment we 
 met in London; and I was deeply solicitous that 
 we should cootinne together. I am confident yoa 
 wiU experience saceess — you will make money — 
 you will grow rich — you will perhaps form some 
 brilHant matrimonial connexion " 
 
 *" Juliet I" I exclaimed deprecatingly, as my 
 riieeks grew crimson ; and then a sudden sadness 
 smote me, for it seemed as if my cousin Harry were 
 gazing upon me through the vista of distance with 
 the mo-omfullest expression in those handsome 
 brown eyes of his. 
 
 " And why not, my dear Ellen f" asked JuUet, 
 not comprehending wherefore I had thus checked 
 her, or what dreamy idea was uppermost in my 
 mind at the time. '' Have not many actresses 
 eapoused peers of the realm " 
 
 "Yes, yes, perhaps !" I hastily interjected : 
 • but I am now thinkicg of other things " 
 
 "Let me tell you, my dear Ellen," proceeded 
 Miss Xorman, as if giving audible expression to 
 her own musings, rather than deliberately address- 
 ing herself to me — '• I am a little mere worldly- 
 minded than you are ; and as my father and 
 mother have said, why should not their daughter 
 lurm an alliance of which they may be proud ? I 
 know that I am not very bad-looking:'" — here she 
 gbneed at her psyche, for this discourse took place 
 IB ber bed-chamber one morning after breakfast : 
 " I amaa timroughly respectable as a ballet-dancer 
 can be — I know that not even the malignity of 
 ■eandal has dared breathe upon my name " 
 
 "No doubt, my dear Juliet," 1 said, " yoa hare 
 ■any qualifications " 
 
 " And you too, Ellen,'*' rej ;ined iliss Jforman : 
 den, as she attentively surveyed ms, the friendly 
 good-hearted girl went on to observe with a kind- 
 ling admiration in her looks, " And yoa too have 
 every winning and captivating qualification. Tou 
 are exquisitely beautiful, Ellen. If ever was female 
 head adorned with such a wealth of glossy raven 
 hair ! — never did finer nor brighter dark eyes 
 beam with all the goodness and the intelligence of 
 the best disposition and the most accomplished 
 mind! Tou have delicate features, faultlessly 
 formed : your nose is perfectly siraight : your 
 mouth is Uke that of a Grecian statue — yet Oh 1 
 how different vrith the vivid vermilion upon those 
 Kps and the two rows of pearls shining between 
 them I" 
 
 " Juliet ! mj dear Juliet !" I exclaimed, crimaon 
 with confusion : " pray do not continue in this 
 manner!" 
 
 " And why not P' said my firiend : and then she 
 added with an arch smile, " K Miss Percy does 
 
 not know that she is beautiful, it is high time she 
 should be made aware of the fact. If the mirror 
 be not tell-tale enough, yoa shall at least hear the 
 truth firom the lips of a firiend who loves and ad- 
 mires you." 
 
 " But I think nothing of personal attractions, 
 Juliet :• 
 
 '•Don't be foolish, Ellen ! Every young woman 
 likes to know that she U beautiful. You must net 
 lead me to think that you are a prude — and I 
 shall think so unless yoa permit me to continue 
 my description. TVell, then, you have a chin that 
 
 is softly and delicately rounded Mine is too 
 
 large — and I know it Bjt your's is perfection 
 
 itself. And then, my dear Ellen, while yoa are 
 standing there with averted countenance, yoa 
 know not how gracefully your head is placed apon 
 that snowy neck of your's. It is like the flower 
 upon its stalk! — Ah! yoa may take another atti- 
 tude: but it h only to develop fresh graces— fresh 
 beauties 1" 
 
 " JuUet, Juliet ! — I will run behind the curtains 
 — I will leave the room ! Do, my dear friend," I 
 continued, pleading earnestly, '* desist from this 
 
 strain ! I really do not like flattery " 
 
 "It is no flattery, Ellen," interrupted Juliet; 
 "and I am resolved to finish my portraiture. 
 "Well, then, I have before me a figure more ex- 
 quisitely beautiful than that of any Grecian statue 
 would be if similarly arrayed in modem drapery. 
 : You have the most perfect faU of the shoulders— 
 I nothing abrupt — t'ae lines flowing as it were with 
 I soft continujusness into the arms. Your figure is 
 I sylphid, with a sofBdeney of Hebe-like fulness and 
 1 roundness of porpwtioBS to redeem it from too 
 great a slendemess, considering that you are talL 
 I A few years hence you will be a superb woman : 
 ' now you are a graceful and elegant girl." 
 I " And now, Juliet," I exclaimed, half-laaghing 
 I at what I considered to be her foolishness, and half 
 in confusion at the praises she had been lavishing 
 I upon me — though I will not attempt to deny that 
 I I knew full well they were not altogether unde- 
 served, — ''I shall close your mouth with my 
 I hand:" — and playfully I executed my threat. 
 
 " I have not half dene, my dear Eilea,"' s'aa 
 said, as in a similarly playful mood she caught 
 hold of my wrist and removed my hand ; then re- 
 taining that hand in her own, she went on to ob- 
 serve, ■■ Here is beautiful modelling I — no sculp- 
 ture was ever m:re exqubite t"nan these finjers! 
 Look at these almond-shaped nails ! Ob, Eien, 
 yoa must knoiv that yoa do possess a very beau- 
 tiful hajLi. And as for your feet and ancles, I 
 was adaiiring them the other day; and I thoiig'at 
 to mvsel^ iJf you would only take to the bal- 
 let-^" 
 
 " Jfo, my dear Juliet," I exclaimed : " bat I 
 mean to go upon the stage in the drama. And if 
 yoa do not make haste and dress, so that you may 
 go and speak on my behalf to the Manager, I shall 
 beg Mrs. Xorman to escort me. T&ere ! it is mid- 
 day ! and the carriage will be at the door in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 The elejant French time-piece on Jaliet's mantel 
 was proclaiming t'ae hour of noon. I hastened oS 
 to my own chamber to put on my bonnet and 
 shawl ; and in about half-an-hour, Juliet, who had 
 been wasting her time iu singing my praises, was 
 ready to set oS for the theatre. Her parents ae-
 
 EtLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AS ACTEESS. 
 
 21 
 
 companied her, as usual ; for even if they had no 
 rehearsal to attend, they invariably — or at least 
 one of them — attended their daughter to that 
 sphere whither they would not have her penetrate 
 alone. A new hallet was to be rehearsed on this 
 occasion : the period for practice was prolonged ; 
 and when it was over, Mrs. Norman herself volun- 
 teered to introduce me to the manager. I had 
 taken ofif my bonnet and shawl in Juliet's dress- 
 ing-room when luncheon was served up there as 
 usual : I was about to fetch them, when Mrs. 
 Norman, who had laid aside the same articles of 
 her own apparel, said that it was not necessary. 
 
 With a palpitating heart I followed her to a 
 room where the lessee was seated at & table on 
 which were decanters of wine. The walls were 
 covered with pictures of eminent actors and 
 actresses, dancers, and managers ; and all the 
 morning newspapers lay scattered about on the 
 floor around the great man. For a great man he 
 assuredly was in that place ; and by numbers was 
 he looked up to as the very arbiter cf their desti- 
 nies. He was quite a young man, considering 
 the position which he held; for he was not above 
 two-and-thirty ; and though I had seen him before 
 upon the stage during rehearsals, this was the first 
 time I had found myself so near him. This closer 
 view did not make a very favourable impression 
 upon my mind : methought that I now perceived 
 a certain self-sufficient and supercilious air which 
 I had not before noticed about Mr. !Eichards — for 
 this was the manager's name. He was clad in a 
 French flowered silk dressing-gown, and wore a 
 velvet cap with a gold tassel — which costume gave 
 him perhaps an additional tinge of rakishness. He 
 was lounging with a sort of fashionable indolence 
 in a large easy chair, and was giving some instruc- 
 tions to his stage-manager, who had the proof of 
 ft new play-bill in his hand. 
 
 " You know, sir," the stage-manager was say- 
 ing at the moment, " we shall want a crowd for 
 the arrest-scene in the new piece." 
 
 " Well, we have already arranged for it, Mr. 
 Green," responded Mr. Eichards : and, then as he 
 consulted a slip of paper containing memoranda, 
 he added, " You have five supernumeraries, and 
 that's sufficient. Tell them to make the most of 
 themselves— I mean to spread themselves well out 
 and look like a mob. Nothing like producing 
 good effects, Mrs. Norman !" and the lessee turned 
 towards Juliet's mother with the half courteous, 
 half familiar air which he was wont to adopt to- 
 vrards the principal members of his company. 
 
 '• I beg your pardon for this intrusion, Mr. 
 Eichards," said Mrs. Norman : "but I really thought 
 you were disengaged " 
 
 " Always disengaged to you, my dear madam," 
 answered the lessee ; " and particularly when you 
 make your appearance in such pleasing com- 
 pany." 
 
 His glance was flung towards me as he thus 
 spoke ; and the colour mounted to my cheeks, — not 
 because I fancied at the time that the implied com- 
 pliment savoured too much of flippant flattery — 
 but because my naturally shy disposition rendered 
 me confused and embarrassed at this special notice 
 on the part of the great man. 
 
 " Now, my dear Mr. Richards," said Mrs. Nor- 
 man, cajolingly, "pray be so obliging as to give 
 your attention to Miss Percy for a few minutes. 
 
 She is an old school-companion of my daughter's, 
 and therefore a friend of mine— a young lady in- 
 deed in whom I am much interested " 
 
 " These assurances, my dear madam," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Richards, " are quite sufficient to in- 
 duce me to give all my attention to Miss Percy for 
 a whole half- hour if it be necessary. I presume 
 that I already understand her object " 
 
 " Precisely so," responded Mrs. Norman. " My 
 young friend has decided upon the stage as her 
 
 profession but not the ballet, Mr. Richards — 
 
 the drama is her choice. She wished to defer to 
 your opinion as to her probable success ; and if 
 you report favourably I shall feel truly delighted 
 to give her the requisite lessons." 
 
 " I feel highly flattered," remarked the lessee, 
 " that Miss Percy should wish to take my opinion 
 on the point : but really, my dear Mrs. Norman, 
 
 you yourself might have formed a judgment • 
 
 Or perhaps you have done so already " 
 
 " No," interrupted Juliet's mother. " I was 
 afraid of being too partial. Ah ! there is Juliet 
 herself. I shall leave you, my dear, with your 
 young friend for the present. — Mr. Green," added 
 Mrs. Norman, turning towards the stage-manager, 
 " you will permit me to have a word or two with 
 you, if you please." 
 
 Juliet had entered at the moment, accompanied 
 by another ballet-dancer: Mrs. Norman retired 
 with Mr. Green the stage-manager. Juliet and 
 her friend had not put off their dancing apparel ; 
 and I noticed that the former now carried in her 
 hand a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which at that 
 season of the year must have been reared in a hot- 
 house and purchased at no inconsiderable price ia 
 Covent Garden Market. Her companion was 
 named Melissa Harrison ; and as I shall have to 
 speak of her hereafter, I may as well take this 
 opportunity of observing that she was a tall 
 elegantly shaped girl, with a figure of sylphid 
 airiness— a beautiful countenance — but a very deli- 
 cate appearance, as if her health were not good, 
 and as if the exertions of the ballet were too much 
 for a constitution not naturally strong. 
 
 Juliet and Melissa remained in the lessee's room, 
 while he proceeded to question me. There was a 
 kind of patronising courtesy in his manner, as if 
 he meant me to understand that while devoting 
 this attention to my business on Mrs. Norman's 
 account, it was a very great favour that he was 
 showing me, and one which I must appreciate. I 
 did not think it necessary to enter into any details 
 relative to my past history : I simply stated that 
 circumstances compelled me to adopt the means of 
 earmug my own livelihood, and that I had con- 
 ceived a fancy for the stage. Mr. Richards took 
 down a volume of plays from a shelf — selected a 
 passage — and requested me to read it to him. For 
 a few moments 1 was overwhelmed with bashful- 
 ness : but Juliet whispered encouraging words ia 
 my ears ; and Melissa Harrison, likewise accosting 
 me, spoke in the kindest tone, though this was 
 the first time that we had exchanged a syllable to- 
 gether. I could not help noticing that there was 
 something softly sympathizing and gently compas- 
 sionating in Melissa's looks as her large hazel eyes 
 were fixed upon me : but I thought at the time 
 that she was generously pitying me on account of 
 my confusion and embarrassment. Summoning all 
 my courage to my aid I commenced reading the
 
 2« 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AS ACTBESa. 
 
 passage indicated by Mr. Eichards : and as I pro- 
 ceeded I felt my heart warming with tho subject. 
 I caught its spirit — the circumstances in which I 
 was placed appeared to fade away from my con- 
 sciousness — and I rapidly identified myself with 
 all the feelings and emotions of the character who 
 was supposed to be speaking in the drama. It was 
 not until I had concluded that I suddenly awoke 
 as it were from the delusion in which I had been 
 temporarily cradled — or to which, more properly 
 speaking perhaps, I had wrought myself up ; and 
 then I was overwhelmed with a still greater con- 
 fusion than before on receiving the compliments 
 of Mr. Eichards and the praises of Juliet and 
 Melissa. 
 
 Mrs. Norman re-entered the room at the mo- 
 ment ; and casting a glance around upon all our 
 countenances, her own became animated with joy, 
 as she exclaimed, "Ah! I see how it is! My 
 presage was not incorrect ! My young friend has 
 proved that she has got the genius — the talent — 
 although perhaps until this hour it may have lain 
 dormant." 
 
 "Yes, my dear Mrs. Norman," answered Mr. 
 Eichards, " Miss Percy has acquitted herself better 
 than any of us could possibly have anticipated. I 
 never saw so good a first attempt. It is really no 
 flattery ! My dear madam, the girl has the genius 
 —cultivate it, I beg of you— she cannot bo in bet- 
 ter hands than your own !" 
 
 The lessee spoke these last words in a lowered 
 tone to Mrs. Norman as he drew her aside ; and 
 though I veritably believe they were not intended 
 for my ears, yet did I catch them; for I was 
 keenly sensitive to every sign, evidence, or demon- 
 stration that in any way regarded the result of the 
 test to which I had been put. I must confess that 
 I felt as if I had 'achieved a triumph; new ideas 
 were rapidly germinating in my mind ; the ambi- 
 tion to shine and achieve a reputation as a great 
 actress, had already begun to inspire me. And 
 yet, mingled with all these feelings, was no incon- 
 siderable remnant of that habitual shyness and ex- 
 cessive diffidence which could not be shaken off all 
 in a moment. 
 
 " Let me congratulate you, my sweet friend," 
 said Mrs. Norman : and she bestowed upon me 
 a true theatrical embrace, which afforded Mr. 
 Eichards an opportunity of paying another com- 
 pliment, to the effect that there was no doubt he 
 should shortly have the pleasure of seeing us, as 
 two " stars," enacting the same scene before the 
 curtain. 
 
 Presently I was alone with Juliet in her dress- 
 ing-room; and when she had said several kind 
 things to me on the success of the trial to which I 
 had been put, and likewise prophetic of future 
 greatness ou my part, — she appeared to sink into a 
 pensive reverie. Lounging back on the sofa, she 
 contemplated with a profound attention that bou- 
 quet of choice flowers to which I have already 
 alluded. For some minutes I watched her, won- 
 dering what was passing in her mind, and whether 
 it were any source of sadness which rendered her 
 thus pensive. But gradually I observed a smile 
 ■wreathing her rich red lips, and th§n expanding 
 over her countenance, until that handsome face 
 became radiant with animation, and a kindred 
 lustre lighted up the depths of her superb blue 
 eyes. All of a sudden she met my wondering 
 
 gaze; and then a deep blush crimsoned her cheeks, 
 descended to her neck, and suffused itself even over 
 her shoulders. She looked as if her heart cherished 
 some secret which she fancied the expression of her 
 countenance must have just betrayed to my know- 
 ledge. 
 
 " You understand what is passing in my mind, 
 dear Ellen ?" she said, glancing at me for an in- 
 stant, and then bending her blushing looks over the 
 bouquet which she held in her hand. '•' Perhaps 
 you will think I am very foolish ? And I may be 
 
 so " 
 
 " Foolish for what, Julie ?" I asked, with some 
 degree of surprise. 
 
 " Foolish that I should attach the value which I 
 do to t is bouquet," she continued, still keeping 
 her eyes upon it — " or at least that I should 
 attribute a certain significancy to it. Ah ! I see 
 that you do not understand me !" she exclaimed, 
 now raising her fine blue eyes towards my coun- 
 tenance, but still with a blush glowing upon her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " No ; I do not understand you, Julie," I an- 
 swered — " unless indeed it be that this beautiful 
 nosegay is a tribute of admiration paid by some 
 
 one " 
 
 "Did you just now observe that tall slender 
 young man," asked Miss Norman, slowly and hesi- 
 tatingly, " who was in the lessee's box during 
 rehearsal ?" 
 
 " I noticed several gentlemen in the boxes " 
 
 " Well, the particular one to whom I allude is 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. He is the son of the 
 Earl of Carshalton — he is only just come of age 
 
 It is he, Ellen, who sent me this beautiful 
 
 bouquet. It was placed in my hands a few mi- 
 nutes before I entered the lessee's room to look 
 after you." 
 
 " And therefore you think," I said, with the ut- 
 most ingenuousness, " that Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe is in love with you ?" 
 
 Juliet Norman gave no immediate answer : but 
 she again bent her blushing countenance over the 
 bouquet. I now remembered that while standing 
 on one side of the stage to witness the rehearsal of 
 the ballet, I had noticed in a box on the opposite 
 side a young gentleman whose personal appearance 
 corresponded with the description Miss Norman 
 had just given. I recollected likewise the conver- 
 sation that took place between herself and me the 
 morning after my introduction to her parents* 
 abode; and I said, "You know, Julie, it has been 
 your ambition to form a good matrimonial alliance 
 some day or another. Who can tell but that your 
 wish may be realized even more speedily than you 
 had anticipated ? I did remark that young noble- 
 man " 
 
 " And is he not very handsome ?" asked Miss 
 Norman in an under-tone, as if afraid that the very 
 walls might have ears to catch the words from her 
 lips : then, without waiting for my reply, she went 
 on to say, " I have seen him on each occasion at 
 rehearsals — and always of an evening likewise. I 
 don't know how it was, but my heart whispered 
 
 something to me yes, something to the effect 
 
 that it was on me principally — on Mo only his looks 
 were fixed ; and now I have received a proof of it :" 
 — and again her eyes were fixed upon the bouquet. 
 Her maid at this moment entered to announce 
 that the carriage was in waiting : the conversation
 
 EtlEir PEKCT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OE AS ACTEES8. 
 
 23 
 
 Was thus cut sbort — we rejoined Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman — and all returned home together. 
 
 I had written to my aunt Mrs. Wakefield to 
 inform her that the pretended letter of ilrs. Len- 
 nie wes a cruel deception, but that I had fortu- 
 nately found an asylum with very kind friends. I 
 now sat down for the purpose of penning another 
 letter, to explain my intention of embracing the 
 stage as a profession : but scarcely had I made a 
 beginning, wlien it struck me that I had been too 
 precipitate and that I ought not to resolve upon 
 anything until I had consulted Mrs. Wakefield 
 and received her counsel and assent. I know not 
 therefore how to word the letter which I desired 
 to write. 1 thought that I would postpone the 
 task until the morrow, during which interval I 
 might have leisure for reflection. 
 
 In the evening I went to the theatre as usual ; 
 and when I beheld the applause which greeted the 
 principal actresses — when I repeated over and over 
 again to myself the encouraging words which Mr. 
 Eichards had spoken aside to Mrs. Norman in the 
 forenoon, and which my ear had caught — a thrill 
 of unknown pleasure passed through me : I felt as 
 if I had already achieved greatness and created 
 renown for myself. I was enraptured with the 
 profession ; and I found myself inwardly resolving 
 that nothing should deter me from adopting it. I 
 beheld Juliet's brilliant triumph in the ballet ; and 
 when flowers were showered down upon her from 
 the nearest boxes, I noticed that the finest bouquet 
 was thrown by the hand of Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe. Again my heart thrilled with the ideas that 
 swept through my brain ; for I fancied to myself 
 that if the day shoul 1 come when I might be stand- 
 ing on that same stage, invested with all the glo- 
 ries of triumph, the hand of one of whom I often 
 thought might possibly bestow a choice bouquet 
 upon me, and the handsome brown eyes of my 
 cousin might shed upon me the light of joyous 
 congratulations. 
 
 On the following morning I received a letter 
 from my aunt, conveying a piece of intelligence or 
 no small importance with regard to her son. By 
 some means, which I need not pause to describe, 
 lie had attracted the notice of a manufacturer re- 
 siding at Paisley but who had been staying for a 
 few days at Sheffield ; and this gentleman had 
 offered Henry a situation as a clerk in his estab- 
 lishment, with an immediate salary of sixty pounds 
 a year, and the promise of a speedy augmentation 
 if he conducted himself well. He was to enter 
 without delay upon his duties; and Mrs. Wake- 
 field intended to remove to Paisley in order that 
 her son might still have the advantage of the 
 maternal home. In reference to myself the letter 
 contained the following paragraphs : — " I admire 
 your spirit, my dear Ellen, and I love you for that 
 good feeling towards myself which prompted you 
 to seek the bread of independence. I rejoice that 
 you have found kind friends who are so generously 
 giring you a home until you can launch yourself 
 in the world. Having the fullest confidence in 
 your excellent principles, and also in the counsel 
 which those friends are enabled to give you, I do 
 not needlessly profiler advice. But remember, my 
 dear girl, that there is always a home for you be- 
 neath my roof, wherever my own habitation may 
 He." 
 'the letter contained one from my cousin Harry, 
 
 who wrote in the hijliest spirits on account of 
 having at last procured a situation which would 
 prevent him from continuing a burden on his 
 mother's slender resources He expressed many 
 hopes on behalf of my welfare and happiness, and 
 declared that the only drawback to his own com- 
 plete contentment was that we were separated. 
 "You know, my dear Ellen," he said, in this 
 kind letter, " that I would cheerfully toil for you 
 as well as for myself: but my mother insists that 
 it is better for you to follow the present bent of 
 your own persevering spirit and industrious incli- 
 nations; and therefore I urged nothing further 
 upon that point. As for myself, I mean to try to' 
 get on so well that you shall some day have reason 
 to be proud of your cousin Harry." 
 
 This last sentence gave a particular impulse to 
 my thoughts; and turned them into a somewhat 
 new channel. 
 
 "And I also will endeavour," I said within my- 
 self, " to win that position which shall some day 
 render ^ou, Henry, proud of your cousin Ellen ! 
 What," I went on musing in the enthusiasm of 
 my feelings, — " what if I were to prepare a great 
 surprise for those relatives who are interested in 
 me ? what if I were to keep my secret relative to 
 the profession in which I am about to embark? 
 Through the kindness of tliese excellent friends I 
 have a home assured me : and I may accept it, 
 because I feel — I know— I have that within my 
 heart which tells me that the day will come when 
 I shall be enabled to repay them for all their good- 
 ness. Oh, what joy, what happiness if at no very 
 distant time I shall find myself in a position tu 
 write to my aunt and cousin and tell them that I 
 have achieved success and that gold is pouring in 
 upon me !" 
 
 My enthusiasm was as exalted in the exact pro- 
 portion as my inexperience of the world was great : 
 my hopes were as ardent as my soul itself was in- 
 genuous. My resolve was taken accordingly. I 
 wrote to my aunt and cousin congratulating them 
 upon the good intelligence their own letters had 
 conveyed to me, and informing them that my 
 friends the Normans had made up their minds not 
 to part with me for the present, and that they 
 kindly opened to my view certain means and pros- 
 pects which would relieve me from the idea of 
 being an useless and dependent burden upon their 
 bounty. In this letter I did not study any hypo- 
 critical evasion nor culpable dissimulation : my 
 objects were well-meant — my aim was straight- 
 forward and honourable ; and I did not for a mo- 
 ment imagine that I was guilty of any real impro- 
 priety in veiling my ultimate intentions from the 
 knowledge of those relatives who were deeply in- 
 terested in my welfare. 
 
 CHAPTEE VL 
 
 EDWIJT SI. CLAIS. 
 
 I coxTiiftrED to attend regularly the rehearsals 
 at the theatre; — not that I mjself as yet practised 
 iu them, but in order to obtain as much in- 
 sight as possible into the Jotaih of the profession 
 which I was about to enter. When at home, — as 
 I may denominate the house of my kind friends,— 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman gave me lessons, tn.kiag it
 
 24 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 by turns, and experiencing a pleasure in thus in- 
 structing me. 
 
 Thus several weeks went by ; and during this 
 period I formed many new acquaintances ; for the 
 Normans saw as much company as their avocations 
 would permit. There were frequent supper-parties 
 when the evening engagements at the theatre were 
 over : they likewise received friends to breakfast 
 and to luncheon. I was thus introduced to some 
 of the most eminent artistes of the day : but 
 beyond the dramatic sphere the Normans had also 
 numerous friends. As Juliet had given me to un- 
 derstand, there were amongst these visitors several 
 male scions of the aristocracy ; and as my expe- 
 riences became enlarged, I perceived that I was 
 the object of much attention on the part of the 
 noblemen and gentlemen frequenting the house as 
 well as those who had permission to attend the 
 rehearsals at the theatre. Mrs. Norman how- 
 ever kept her eye as much upon me as upon her 
 own daughter ; and I myself maintained a demea- 
 nour that was becomingly courteous to those flat- 
 terers ; but I never gave them the slightest en- 
 couragement. Indeed, in this respect I was much 
 more shy and reserved than Juliet : for she would 
 laugh and joke, and even slightly flirt sometimes, 
 ■with some of these fashionable hangers-on : whereas 
 I never put myself forward — I was glad when I 
 could shrink timidly into the back-ground, — though 
 when compelled to join in conversation, I assuredly 
 did not study to render myself disagreeable. 
 
 Meanwhile Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe had pro- 
 cured an introduction to the Normans; and he 
 received invitations to their house. He became 
 marked in bis attentions towards Juliet ; and she 
 confessed to me that she was considerably ena- 
 moured of him. He sent handsome presents of 
 game, venison, turtle, and fish to Mr. Norman — 
 boxes of eau de Cologne and French gloves to Mrs. 
 Norman — but to Juliet naught beyond the choicest 
 bouquets from Covent Garden Market. 
 
 One evening, when invited to supper. Lord 
 Frederick RavensclLffe brought with him a gentle- 
 man named St. Clair. He was about four-and- 
 twenty years of age and remarkably handsome. 
 His hair was of a light brown, with perhaps a 
 tinge of auburn in it, shining with a rich gloss 
 and curling naturally. It was parted above a high 
 and noble forehead, where the grandest intellect 
 seemed to sit enthroned ; and the fine large blue 
 eyes were equally faithful in their reflection of 
 the mind's light. Nothing could be more perfect 
 than the Grecian profile of Edwin St. Clair. He Jiad 
 been for two or three years in the Horse Guards, 
 until an uncle's death — which happened suddenly — 
 put him in possession of a princely fortune ; and then 
 he had retired from the army. But he still bore the 
 title of Captain — by courtesy, I presume ; and he 
 had not discarded the moustache which he had 
 worn when in the service. This moustache shaded 
 without concealing the short upper lip, which had 
 a somewhat haughty expression : his teeth were 
 pure, even, and faultless as those of the most 
 lovely woman. A litlie above the middle height, 
 his figure was the perfection of masculine sym- 
 metry ; and when the terms " elegance" and 
 " grace" are applied to the appearance, the bear- 
 ing, and the gait of persons of the male sex, they 
 never could be more justly used than in reference 
 to Edwin St. Clair. 
 
 A few weeks before he was thus introduced to 
 the Norman family he had entered Parliament ; 
 and he had already made three or four speeches 
 which had perfectly electrified the House. His 
 voice was rich-toned — full of that masculine har- 
 mony which when low seems to sink dream-like 
 into the souls of the listeners— but which, when 
 swelling with the enthusiasm of the feelings and 
 with the passion of eloquence, has the effect of a 
 grand and sublime choral music. His countenance 
 was pale : there were times when it was pensive, 
 but not saddened : it seemed the mere habit of 
 thought inseparable from a high order of the in- 
 tellect. There were other times when that coun- 
 tenance, though seldom flushing with the warm 
 blood's glow, was nevertheless animated even to 
 radiance, — as a strong sunlight pours upon the face 
 of statuary marble the effulgence which is only just 
 perceptibly tinged with the hue of the embowering 
 roses amidst which the light has passed. But there 
 were times likewise when a strange smile would for 
 a few instants waver upon St. Clair's lips, and when 
 the eyes would have a kindred peculiarity of look. 
 The first time I ever caught this expression of his 
 countenance, I fancied there was something sinister 
 in it— something which ought not to appear upon 
 a face which in its sublime masculine beauty 
 should only reflect the loftiest and most ennobling 
 thoughts. I could not understand what that ex- 
 pression of the countenance meant ; and yet it was 
 so transient, and was so instantaneously succeeded 
 by the more natural and agreeable look, that when 
 it had passed away, it left me in a sort of dreamy 
 bewilderment as to whether it had ever for that 
 brief space existed at all. Was it a contempt for 
 the surrounding gaieties and frivolities of society ? 
 — was it a cynical distaste for those pleasures which 
 other people prized ? — or was it the involuntary 
 expression of proud scorn on the part of a lofty 
 mind for all the inferior intellects with which it 
 came in contact ? I knew not : I could form no 
 conjecture upon the subject ; and yet it was an ex- 
 pression of countenance which left an uneasy im- 
 pression on the beholder at the time, and haunted 
 the memory afterwards. 
 
 I have already said that Lord Frederick Havens- 
 clifTe introduced Captain St. Clair to the house in 
 Hunter Street, Brunswick Square. He then be- 
 came a frequent visitor for the next few weeks ; 
 and I could not blind myself to the fact that while 
 St. Clair treated every one else with the courteous 
 attention which his exquisitely polished manners 
 could so well display, towards me he was reserved 
 and distant. He never addressed a single syllable 
 of his conversation to me, unless he was compelled 
 by the intercourses of the table ; and even then his 
 look was half averted as if in disdain at the bare 
 idea of having to notice so humble an individual. 
 Occasionally — if any warm arguments were in pro- 
 gress upon a particular subject, and when St. Clair 
 had listened with the most urbane attention to the 
 remarks of others — the moment my opinion was 
 referred to by the friendship or the courtesy of any 
 one present, the topic appeared all in an instant 
 to lose its interest for St. Clair : he became cold 
 and reserved — yet not in respect to the whole com- 
 pany around him, — but all this coldness and all this 
 reserve seemed suddenly to be concentrated and 
 directed towards myself. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and Melissa Har-
 
 risen (wl)o was r fr?quent guest at the housj) 
 began to notii-'c EUwin Si. Cii.ir's coijdiii;t in le- 
 Bjiect to mjeelf ; and they questioned rue on tlio 
 point. Tliey asked me if I had ever known hioi 
 before— whether I had given him cause for a de- 
 xneanour which aoiouuted at times to absolute 
 rudeness — whether he had made some overture 
 which I had resented, and for the resenting of 
 which he was thus treating me with a spiteful 
 ▼indicliveness ? To all these queries I answere I 
 in the negative — and truly answered. My pride 
 was however piqued ; and I professed to have been 
 inobservant of that behaviour which was the sub- 
 ject of these interrogatories ? Inwardly I felt 
 annoyed at St. Clair's conduct. Totally uncon. 
 ccious of having given him offence, I did not like 
 to be marked out for such undeserved punishment. 
 Instead of being any longer pleased to be thus 
 thrown into the background, my soul was gettiujj 
 chafed at what I could not but regard as a sort of 
 No. 4.— Elle» Peect. 
 
 cold-bloode.^, cowardly, and tacit persecution. I 
 sa-.v tljiit St. Ciair was popular witli M who belonged 
 to the sphere of his acquaintance: — without either 
 assumption, self-sufficiency, or obtrusiveness, ho 
 became the star of every circle. The brilliancy of 
 Lis intellect, the exquisite polish of his manners, 
 the fascination of his discourse, as well as a 
 certain tact which he had of rendering himself 
 agreeable to whomsoever he thought it worth whilQ 
 to please,— all these qualifications were the source 
 of the power that he wielded. To be absolutely ig- 
 nored, therefore — to be scorned or to be " cut " by 
 such a man as this, was something only too well 
 calculated to gall the feelings of even so patient, 
 bashful, and retiring a creature as myself. 
 
 One day I was attending the rehearsal as usual, 
 and was standing with Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 quito at the back of the stdge, witnessing the 
 Torpsichoreau displays of Juliet and four other 
 dancers who were practising a portion of a new
 
 ballet. Mr. and Mrs. Norraan had tlieir eyes i ward as if contemplating his polished boot — 
 riveted with the most justifiable admiration upon \ though there was really no tinge of foppery in his 
 
 their tall, handsome, exquisitely made daughter, 
 as she was most rapturously poetising, so to speak, 
 that art in which she excelled. She was, as usual, 
 putting forth all her efforts, though without any 
 visible strain, to that effect, — because Lord Frede- 
 rick RavensclifiFe was in a stage-box, contemplating 
 her with looks full of lovo and admiration. As t 
 happened to glance around, I perceived Edwin St. 
 Clair seated at the side of the stage, and appa- 
 rently gazing with fixed looks on the dancers. I 
 had not seen him enter — 1 knew not how long he 
 had been there ; and the moment my eyes fell 
 upon him, I averted my countenance, for fear he 
 
 composition— he said, "It is not always those with 
 whom one laughs the loudest and to whom one 
 assumes the gayest demeanour, that one feels the 
 most interest in. Doubtless, Miss Percy, you 
 have thought my conduct towards you exceed- 
 ingly strange ?" 
 
 He looked up suddenly in my face as he thus 
 spoke; and as the effect of the first surprise had 
 not worn off, it now received another impulse. It 
 was astonishment succeeding astonishment. 
 
 "Perhaps you have ccemed my behaviour more 
 than extraordicary," continued Edwin St. Clair : 
 you may have regarded it as rude, unwarrantable 
 
 should notice that I glanced towards him and I —even cruel and cowardly especially. Miss 
 
 should think that I was anything more than ut 
 terly indifferent as to his presence. That portion 
 of the rehearsing ballet was speedily finished: 
 there was a pause on the part of the dancers: 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman advanced towards their 
 daughter to say something to her. I remained 
 alone on the spot where they had left me, when a 
 well-known voice came stealing as it were upon 
 my ear in the soft richness of its harmony; and I 
 gave an involuntary start. 
 
 "Your friend Miss Norman is a most accom- 
 plished danseuse, Miss Percy," said St. Clair, who, 
 totally unperceived by me, had passed round from 
 his seat in such a way that he came upon me from 
 behind. 
 
 "Yes, Captain St. Clair," I answered coldly; 
 "my friend Miss Norman has achieved perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 I was then about to move away, when it in- 
 stantaneously struck me that if I did so my con- 
 duct would have the air of a studied resentment 
 ou account of his own behaviour towards me; 
 and, my pride coming to my relief — or rather to 
 my guidance — would not permit me to afford this 
 indication that he had ever succeeded in annoying 
 me. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Norman is an accomplished artiste," 
 continued St. Clair, lounging with an elegant air 
 of fashionable indolence against a piece of scenery. 
 "You, Miss Percy, are intended for the stage, I 
 believe ? When do you think of making your 
 debut?" 
 
 " Nothing is as yet positively settled on that 
 point, Captain St. Clair," I answered, with what 
 I may flatter myself was a lady-like coldness and 
 reserve. 
 
 " I am sorry that you are so uncertain in that 
 respect," he remarked. 
 
 I gave no reply: and there was a silence of 
 nearly a minute. 
 
 Percy," ho added in the softest tones of his har- 
 monious voice, " as I have beea told that you are 
 an orphan— that you have no other friends in the 
 world than those whom your own goodness has made 
 for you — that you are amiable, kind, and of an ex- 
 cellent dispositioYi." 
 
 St. Clair had the art of throwing the most melt- 
 ing pathos into his language when he chose; and 
 he was doing it now. There vyas something so irre- 
 sistibly touching in the manner in which he had 
 lowered his voice so that its cadence might suit 
 the words " you are an orphan," that my suddenly 
 excited emotions swelled up into my very throat 
 and tears gushed from my eyes. 
 
 "A thousand pardons. Miss Percy," said St. 
 Clair, with earnestness in his tono and his look,— ^ 
 " a thousand pardons," he repeated, " that I should 
 have made you weep ! I would not have done it 
 for worlds ! Eor heaven's sake dry these tears ! 
 Those who have already seen with what marked 
 and studied coldness I h ive treated you, will think 
 that I am now bringing my* cowardly conduct to a 
 crisis, and that I am heaping the last crowning'in- 
 Bult upon you." 
 
 I did wipe away my tears ; and I made a move- 
 ment to leave the spot where this singular discourse 
 was taking plaee quite at the back of the stage and 
 in the shade of some scenery. But Captain St 
 Clair, without absolutely retaining me, just touched 
 my arm gently with his gloved hand for an instant 
 — and said, "Eemain, Miss Percy. You have 
 borne all my seeming cold cruelty towards you : 
 you must now listen to the explanation and the 
 cause." 
 
 I felt as if under some spell-like influence, and I 
 became riveted to the spot. There was a kind of 
 fascinating power investing this man : the simplest 
 assertion of his will, however delicately conveyed, 
 appeared to be sufficient to ensure obedience on the 
 part of all who came in contact with him. I longed 
 
 'Yes — I am sorry," continued St. Clair— and i to go— and yet I could not. Perhaps he felt his 
 
 methought that there was a slight tincture of vexa- 
 tion in his tone, as if ho had expected that his 
 previous observation would lead to a question on 
 my part, and that he was annoyed that it had not : — 
 " yes, I am sorry, because my own engagements 
 will compel me to leave London shortly for a few 
 weeks ; and I had promised myself the pleasure of 
 being present at your debut." 
 
 1 was amazed at this speech : indeed it so took 
 me by surprise that I had not sufficient control 
 over myself to prevent the betrayal of that won- 
 derment in my looks. St. Clair glanced at me for 
 an instant; and then bending his eyes down- 
 
 own power, and at that instant triumphed in it; 
 for I caught that peculiar sinister expression flitting 
 over his countenance. The next instant it was 
 gone; and in the most harmonious tones of his 
 penetrating voice, he proceeded to address me in 
 the following manner : — 
 
 " You must bear with me. Miss Percy, some- 
 what — because I am a being different from the rest 
 of the world. I am to be judged by the rule of 
 contraries. When I seem gayest, I am really 
 saddest; and when I appear pensive, my imagina- 
 tion may in reality bo revelling in the paradise 
 which its own power conjures up. In the same
 
 ELLEK PEECT J OE, THE MEM0IE3 o*- A* ACTKE33. 
 
 21 
 
 way, when my attention may Beem to be most 
 closely fixed upon a subject, my thoughts are as far 
 away thence as the Poles are asunder: and when I 
 appear not to be listening, I am in reality all atten- 
 tion. Those whom I hate, scorn, or despise, I in- 
 variably overwhelm with my affabilities : — even to 
 those towards whom I am supremely indifferent, I 
 am full of blandishments. But where I conceive 
 a friendship— where I take a liking— it is there 
 that the perversities, the contradictions, and the 
 inconsistencies of my character most display them- 
 selves : for there it is that I seem coldest when my 
 heart is warmest— Mere it is that my demeanour is 
 of ice while my soul inwardly is in a glow — there 
 it is that I can offer insult or outrage, though all 
 the while I would go to the ends of the earth to 
 render a service ! Do you comprehend such a dis- 
 position as this. Miss Percy ?" 
 
 "It is replete with dissimulations," I answered; 
 " and he who can give such a character of himself, 
 would be equally capable of inventing a whole 
 tissue of such inconsistencies for the mere pur- 
 pose of gaining a reputation for singularity 
 — eccentricity — I scarcely know what to term 
 it." 
 
 " Your language is severe," replied Edwin St. 
 Clair : " but by heaven ! there is no studied dis- 
 simulation with me. You may perhaps say it is a 
 dissimulation to have the appearance of hating 
 where one really likes; but if this be a portion of 
 my character — an evidence of its weakness or its 
 strength, whichever you please— it assuredly is not 
 an hypocrisy : for it is natural. Though peculiar 
 in its nature, it is not assumed. And now, will 
 you permit me to add one word more ?" continued 
 St. Clair, bending his looks most earnestly upon 
 my countenance. "You, Miss Percy, have been 
 rendered the victim of those peculiarities on my 
 part : — and would you know the cause ? It is that 
 the more cold-bloodedly ferocious my conduct may 
 have appeared towards you, so has my real feeling 
 boen proportionately the stronger; — it is. Miss 
 Percy, that I love you !" 
 
 The reader may perhaps deem it strange when I 
 assert that this declaration came quite unexpect- 
 edly upon me : for although St. Clair's language 
 had for the last few minutes been flowing in that 
 direction, yet did it appear so full of sophistry, or 
 at least mystic inconsistency, as to leave me unable 
 to conjecture what aim it might reach. Besides, I 
 was too innocent and inexperienced to anticipate 
 avowals of love ; and if perhaps any idea at all had 
 been floating in my mind as to the end towards 
 which St. Clair was aiming, it was that a proffer cf 
 his friendship might perhaps be made. Therefore 
 I was confounded when that declaration was 
 breathed from his lips ; and then I must candidly 
 confess there was a glow of pride in my heart at 
 the thought that the man whose coldness had 
 chafed me, and who had made me as it were the 
 victim of his contemptuous reserve in the presence 
 of others, was all along the slave of a passion with 
 which I had inspired him. Yet it was not altoge- 
 ther possible to analyze my thoughts and feelings 
 at the time, inasmuch as for some minutes they 
 were bewildered and confused, — so much so that hs 
 had taken my hand, he retained it in his own, and 
 I the while unconscious thereof. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Percy, it is true," he continued, 
 with 1 the melodious persuasiveness of that ma- 
 
 gically musical voice of his, — "it is true that I lova 
 you " 
 
 I now hastily withdrew my hand: indeed I 
 snatched it abruptly away the very moment I 
 was wakened to the sense that it was beinor 
 pressed in his own. 
 
 " Do not think that I mean to insult you," 
 proceeded St. Clair, whose countenance for an 
 instant had expressed a haughty anger, and had 
 then, almost in the twinkling of an eye, reas- 
 sumed the tender eloquence of its look. " I am 
 not addressing you in that language wherein 
 young men so often speak to young ladies within 
 these walls— and which, if breathed behind the 
 scenes, is as false and insincere as if spoken by 
 those who are playing a part before the curtain. 
 No, it is the language of truthfulness that I am 
 speaking ! You have inspired me with a feeling 
 which never, never have I known before ;— and I 
 who have been so proud in my very cynicism, have 
 become your slave ! Will you take my name and 
 share my fortune ? I vow to heaven that I am 
 sincere in the proposal* " 
 
 I have already said that here was something 
 almost irresistibly fascinating about Edwin St. 
 Clair : I knew likewise that he was immensely 
 rich; and ho was remarkably handsome. Can it 
 be wondered if I listened without interrupting 
 him? will the reader marvel if I confess that I 
 was dazzled by the brilliancy of this offer ? There 
 was moreover in the entire proceeding a tincture 
 of romance full well calculated to have its weight 
 and influence with the mind of an artless inex- 
 perienced girl. There was the man whose cold- 
 ness had hitherto chafed me, now offering to make 
 me his bride ! — there was the "observed of all 
 observers," the centre of every circle, the promising 
 young statesman, the brilliant St. Clair,— there 
 was he ready to sink at my feet ! I felt the colour 
 coming and going rapidly upon my cheeks : my 
 heart was palpitating violently— and I could give 
 no response. 
 
 " With sincerity has the proposal been made," 
 continued St. Clair : " and with honour shall it be 
 carried out. But your decision must be given at 
 once; and if it be in the affirmative, the present 
 moment is the last time you must be seen in this 
 part of the theatre. I will deal frankly with you, 
 Ellen. If you had ever appeared publicly upon the 
 stage I would not offer to make you my bride : I 
 
 could not marry an actress. But as it is No 
 
 matter ! It is different ! And now your deci- 
 sion ?" 
 
 My brain was as confused as if an illuminated 
 mist was surrounding me — a mist which alike daz- 
 zled and bewildered. But gradually through that 
 golden fog — through that dense illuminated mist— 
 the eyes of awoWter appeared to be looking in upon 
 me. They were not those of St. Clair— they were 
 not the eyes that sometimes flashed with a sinister 
 light : but they were the dark brown eyes which 
 had never shed a beam to startle my soul nor to 
 leave a disagreeable impression on it. The revul- 
 sion which took place in my feelings was prompt 
 and signal : my brain recovered its clearness — my 
 thoughts grew collected : I was the complete mis- 
 tress of my actions :— the spell was lifted from off 
 my mind. 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I said, mildly but firmly, 
 "I thank you for the honour which you have done
 
 23 
 
 EI.I.E1T PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 Die aud for tho favour with which you have regarded 
 me. But I beg most respectfully to decline your 
 proposal." 
 
 Jji^ever shall I forget the expression which sud- 
 denly swept over St. Clair's counteuanee. I have 
 read la old romances how the Enemy of Mankind 
 Las put on the human shape in all its most beau- 
 teous aspect— and how the sudden utterance of 
 some holy name has in a moment called up the 
 withering look of tho fallen angel. So was it with 
 St. Clair. A hidden fiend appeared for the instant 
 to look out of his eyes : the very beauty of his 
 countenance was for that brief moment fearful to 
 contemplate. I was startled— I was shocked— I 
 was terriliod. The conviction seemed to flash in 
 unto my mind that I had suddenly made a mortal 
 enemy of one who was mighty to do much either 
 of good or of evil, but all whose power of mischief 
 would henceforth be brought to bear upon myself. 
 Yet quick as lightning that terrible — that ominous 
 look had swept away from his countenance; and I 
 was transfixoi with surprise on beholding how 
 calmly sad, how reproachfully mournful it now ap- 
 peared. Could that former expression— so tran- 
 sient, so fleeting,— could it have been naught but 
 imagination on my part? was it nothing but a 
 moment's dream ? 
 
 " Miss Percy," said Edwin St. Clair, wi h a soft 
 melancholy intonation, " your decision has been 
 given— aud perhaps it is irrevocable. I do not 
 complain : you have a right to study your own 
 happiness, although it may be to the destruction of 
 mine. At least you will regard me as a man of 
 honour ; and henceforth we shall be friends. One 
 
 thing I would beseech which is that the seal of 
 
 inviolable silence may remain upon your lips in 
 respect to all that has now taken place between 
 us." 
 
 With the same mild firmness as before, I gave 
 Captain St. Clair the assurance which he desired ; 
 and I hastened away to rejoin my friends. All the 
 persons gathered upon the stage were conversing in 
 groups; and thus the episode which I have been 
 relating in respect to myself, had passed without 
 any very particular notice. At all events its 
 nature remained unsuspected. 
 
 About ten days elapsed after this occurrence ; 
 and not for a single instant did I regret the de- 
 cision at which I had arrived. St. Clair called 
 every day in Hunter Street, — either in the after- 
 noon when the rehearsals were over, or else in 
 the evening at supper-time; and his bearing to- 
 wards myself was that of tho most friendly cour- 
 tesy. Tho Normans and Melissa Harrison noticed 
 this change in his demeanour; and in a good- 
 Luiuoured manner they remarked to me that the 
 amiability of my own disposition had thawed the 
 cold reserve which through caprice (as they fancied 
 it to be) he had originally maintained towards me. 
 Not another syllable on the one subject did St. 
 Clair breathe in my cars : nor even by a look did 
 he appear to intimate that his thoughts still dwelt 
 thereon. 
 
 As the time was now approaching when Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman fancied I might make my debut, — 
 they having purposely delayed it iu order that I 
 should prove us proficient us possible,— I selected 
 the part iu which I desired to appear. I no 
 longer attended tho theatre in the day-time — but 
 remained at tho house to study that part. One 
 
 day Melissa Harrison called, and found mo alone. 
 She herself had obtained a few days' leave of ab- 
 sence through indisposition: for, as I have already 
 said, she was of a sickly constitution. I told her 
 that I was studying my part ; and I spoke with an 
 enthusiasm which made her contemplate me with 
 the deepest attention. Gradually methought an 
 expression of sadness infused itself into her looks, 
 — a sadness which had likewise something compas- 
 sionating in it : and then I recollected that she 
 had gazed on me in a similar manner when Mr. 
 Richards, the lessee, spoke so favourably of my 
 dramatic genius. I had taken a liking to Miss 
 Harrison ; and we had grown intimate toge- 
 ther. 
 
 "Tell me, Melissa," I said, — "why do you 
 look at mo thus ? It is not the first time " 
 
 "Oh, it is nothing!" she excliimed : and then 
 with a laugh of forced gaiety, she strove to turn 
 the discourse into another channel. 
 
 " There is something in your mind, Melissa," I 
 said. " I beseech you to tell mo what it is. Uoea 
 it concern yourself ? If so— and if it bo anything 
 to annoy you— you will have my sincerest sym- 
 pathy. But if it regard me— as I am almost 
 inclined to fancy that it must, from the way in 
 which you have gazed upon me " 
 
 " Would you have me speak out ?" exclaimed 
 Miss Harrison suddenly. " Ob, do not force me, 
 Ellen! — or perhaps I shall destroy some of those 
 golden dreams iu which jou have been cradling 
 yourself." 
 
 " Good heavens, what mean you ?" I asked, 
 suddenly frightened by the words as well as by tho 
 look which accompanied them. " Leave me not in 
 suspense ! I appeal to your friendship — if there bo 
 anything that I ought to know, for heaven's sake 
 tell it to me !" 
 
 " My dear Ellen," she continued, " I should have 
 spoken to you at first upon this very subject, had I 
 not reflected that I had no right to take upon my- 
 self that duty which the Normans had failed to 
 perform. You have been led to look on the bright 
 side of the theatrical world : and no one has as yet 
 undertaken to show you the dark side. Conceive 
 yourself seated iu the boxes, and contemplating tho 
 stage when it is bathed in the effulgence of the gas- 
 lights. What is more beautiful than the scenery? 
 what more superb or more dazzling than the ves- 
 ture of the performers ? what more lovely than tho 
 countenances of the fairy-like girls who are flitting 
 hither and thither upon those boards? But when 
 viewed close, and when the eyes escape from the 
 delusion with which glare and distance invest all 
 these,— how difl'erent are they ! The scenery is a 
 vile daub — the dresses are the veriest tinsel — care- 
 worn and haggard looks are concealed by paint and 
 cosmetics." 
 
 " All this I know full well, Melissa," I said. 
 "But there is no harm in those delusions of glare 
 and distance which produce the effects without 
 which tho theatre would lose all its charms." 
 
 " Oh, Ellen ! is it possible," exclaimed M lissa, 
 " that you do not comprehend the moral which my 
 words would convey ? I tell you that you have 
 looked upon tho bright side, and not upon the 
 other ! You know not the miseries, the anxieties, 
 which help to make up the sum of a theatrical ex- 
 isteooe. Those who are successful are devoured by 
 a thousand petty jealousies. Even Mr. and Mrs.
 
 Normaa— pr^of' ^*^y pP'^p'e though they be, au(i 
 too fond of tbe pleasures of this liCo to moot annoy- 
 ances half-way, much less to create vexations for 
 themselves, — even thei/ have their troubles of this 
 description. It Las not happened so since you 
 have known them: but perhaps it is the only 
 period in their lives that they have been thus con- 
 tented. As for those who are wisuccessfal ~goo^ 
 heavens ! what a life ! When engaged, they feel 
 that they are only tolerated— and they are made to 
 drink deep of the bitter cup of humiliations. But 
 when without engagements— tte/t what misery, 
 what privation, what distress become their por- 
 tion ! I have seen it, Ellen aye, and I have 
 
 felt it too !" added Melissu, a strong shudder 
 sweeping through her form at the bare recollec- 
 tion, 
 
 " Good heavens, you have felt it ?" I exclaimed, 
 tbe tears starting into my eyes. " But you are 
 successful — you are well paid " 
 
 "Yes— success came," she responded, with a 
 singularly wild bitterness in her look and tone, — 
 " success came when it was too late in one sense — 
 almost too late in another " 
 
 " How too late, Melissa ?" I asked wonderingly . 
 " Thai first sense of which you spoke " 
 
 "No matter!" she interjected with an almost 
 startling abruptness. "I was crushed down by 
 the weight of penury then—B.n orphan -friendless 
 —on the very point of being houseless— I was 
 
 starving But no matter! In that o<7ie>* sense 
 
 to which I alluded, I say that success came almost 
 too late ; because the heart was too sick to enjoy 
 it— and because the soul had sunk down so wing- 
 weary upon the earth that though it might be par- 
 tially lifted up, it would never soar again in those 
 lofty flights to which in the fervour of youthful 
 hope and in buoyant imagination it bad once 
 risen !" 
 
 There was a strange bitterness in the first 
 portion of Melissa's speech, and a deep mourn- 
 fulness in the latter, which both alike did me 
 harm to observe; and as I could only partially 
 fathom the meaning, I gazed upon her in mingled 
 surprise, curiosity, and compassion. 
 
 "No," she continued, "you have comprehended 
 nothing of the dark side of this existence upon 
 which you are about to enter. You have not 
 thought of all the temptations which environ the 
 young female embarking in this career. Oh, my 
 dear Ellen, when I saw you in the purity of your 
 soul and the innocence of your heart, abandoning 
 yourself to the enthusiasm of hope— when on the 
 day of your first test in the lessee's room, I beheld 
 your countenance flushing with joy as your ears 
 
 caught the presages of success — 1 pitied you 
 
 yes, I pitied you ! — for methought that one so 
 beautiful, so artless, and so confiding should have 
 been destined for better things!" 
 
 " Good heavens, Melissa !" I exclaimed in 
 affright — and I felt that I grew deadly pale, — 
 " what is all this that you are telling me? Do 
 you mean that Mr. and Mrs. Norman have de- 
 ceived me— that Juliet also has deceived me " 
 
 "No, no— my dear friend! — they have not de- 
 ceived you ! They have told you nothing that is 
 untrue— though they have abstained from telling 
 you all the truth. But blame thorn not! Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman will say nothing against the 
 profession by which they live, and which they can- 
 
 not possibly renounce. It is the business of tboir 
 lives to persuade themselves that they are happy 
 in their profession : they would not even to one 
 another, in the intimacy of man and wife, admit 
 that they sometimes secretly wish their lot had 
 been cast in a different sphere. As for Juliet, she 
 has been successful — she has been praised — the 
 incense of adulation surrounds her ; and every- 
 thing is as yet of a roseate hue to her contempla- 
 tion. She dreams of a brilliant alliance " 
 
 " And with some reason too," I observed, glad 
 of the opportunity to catch any argument which 
 would serve as a refutation of Melissa's gloomy 
 reasoning : " for is not Lord Frederick liavenscliffe 
 paying his court to her ?" 
 
 " Ellen, it is incredible," exclaimed Melissa, 
 with a fierce and bitter scorn in her looks, " how 
 every girl upon the stage with any pretensions 
 to beauty — and even with none— fancies that she 
 will marry a nobleman ! Because there have beeu 
 
 a few isolated instances of such espousals " 
 
 "But do you not think," I interrupted Miss 
 Harrison, " that Lord Frederick will marry 
 Juliet ?" 
 
 " I hope so !" answered Melissa drily ; " be- 
 cause Juliet expects it, and she is deeply ena- 
 moured of him. But for weeks and weeks he has 
 been hanging about her ; and yet the word is not 
 spoken — the matrimonial offer is not yet made ! 
 Heaven grant that Juliet's passion has not been 
 fanned to an extent that may lead her reason 
 astray : for I am fond of her— she has many noble 
 traits— and it would grieve mo sadly if she came 
 to harm." 
 
 "Do you think it possible," I asked, almost in- 
 dignantly, " that Juliet Norman would forget what 
 is due to herself— what is due to her parents— 
 
 her sense of propriety " 
 
 " Not willingly— not deliberately, Ellen," re- 
 sponded Melissa. " But infatuation is dangerous 
 
 — there are moments of weakness " 
 
 Here Miss Harrison suddenly averted her coun- 
 tenance as she stopped short; and for a few mo- 
 ments I felt so pained by her language— so hurt oa 
 Juliet's account— that I made no attempts to con- 
 tinue the conversation. I sat perfectly still, with 
 my eyes bent down: it was almost a feeling of 
 anger which I experienced against Melissa. All 
 of a sudden a sound like that of a sob came upon 
 my car. I started— I bout forward — I looked 
 round in Melissa's countenance : she was weeping 
 bitterly. Forgotten in an instant was the little 
 resentment with which she had inspired me ; and 
 throwing my arms about her neck, I exclaimed 
 " Good heavens ! I have appeared unkind towards 
 you— I looked or spoke angrily— you meant no 
 
 liarm Forgive me, dear Melissa ! Or perhaps 
 
 there is some other cause — perhaps these tears have 
 
 another source " 
 
 "Let us say no more upon the subject, Ellen," 
 interrupted Miss Harrison. "Perhaps there has 
 been too much said already. Yet I hope you knoiV 
 mo too well to think that I could either seek un- 
 kindly to damp your enthusiasm, on the one hand, 
 in respect to the career on which you are about to 
 enter— or on the other hand to disparage the good 
 principles of cur mutual friend Juliet. In refer- 
 ence to yourself, I thought it would only be per- 
 forming a friend's p^rt to warn you of the snares 
 and perils which beset a young girl when entering
 
 30 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; or, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 the theatrical sphere. Aud jou, Ellen, are so 
 
 Bweetlj beautiful— so good — so kind-hearted 
 
 Oh ! for heaven's sake look well at every step you 
 take ia this tangled maze wherein you are plung- 
 ing ! And now not another word on the subject — 
 at least not for to-day ! And you will not tell the 
 Normans that I have dealt thus candidly with you ? 
 They look upon you as a star whom they are in- 
 troducing into the dramatic heaven, and whose 
 light will therefore to a certain extent be reflected 
 on themselves. They would not thank me if they 
 knew I had breathed a single syllable which might 
 have the effect of abating your enthusiasm. And 
 now, my sweet friend, farewell !" 
 
 With these words Melissa Harrison grasped my 
 band and hurried from the room. Her discourse 
 had left a painful impression on my mind : indeed 
 the entire scene was such that I could not possibly 
 put it away from my thoughts, nor avoid dwelling 
 on it with a certain mingling of positive uneasi- 
 ness aud vague apprehension. 
 
 CHAPTER Vir. 
 
 THE INVITATION AND THE EESITLT. 
 
 On the day after the preceding conversation, I bad 
 occasion to make some purchasps ; and I walked 
 forth alone for the purpose. It was a little be- 
 fore the hour of noon ; and I had to go in the 
 direction of the West End to procure the articles 
 which I required. As I was turning the corner of 
 a street leading into one of the fashionable Squares, 
 I had to stop suddenly short on account of a splen- 
 did equipage that was dashing along from the 
 opposite direction. It was an open phaeton drawn 
 by two superb horses, whose harness was literally 
 covered with silver: the coachman and footman were 
 clad in gorgeous liveries — light blue coats covered 
 with silver lace, broad bands and cords to their 
 hats, red plush breeches, and shoes with buckles. 
 The body of the phaeton had but one occupant— a 
 gentleman, who was lounging back with the air of 
 one who superciliously despised all the foot-passen- 
 gers by whom his equipage dashed. A glance at 
 that individual's countenance showed me that it 
 was Mr. Parks the lawyer. 
 
 The recognition was mutual : he ordered the 
 oquipage to stop : and taking me by the hand, 
 exclaimed, " Well really, Ellen, this is most ex- 
 traordinary ! I was on my way to call upon you. 
 1 only came back from the Continent a few days 
 
 ago But why did you not leave your address 
 
 at my house, so that when I did come back I 
 might see you?" 
 
 " In the first place, Mr. Parks," I answered, " I 
 did not think that I had sufficient claims upon 
 your interest; and in the second place, I have 
 been staying with friends — I am not in a situa- 
 tion as a governess, as perhaps you might have 
 
 fancied " 
 
 " Why should you suppose that you are not an 
 object of interest to me ?" he cried. " Have I not 
 known you from your childhood ? But I suppose 
 it was because I wrote that letter of mine in such 
 a dreadful hurry, you might have fancied it a euol 
 one — I mean when you applied to me a few months 
 
 ago about your idea of going into the world as a 
 governess " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Parks," I answered, " I certainly 
 thought there was an absence of friendliness in 
 your letter : but since you assure me it was merely 
 the effect of haste, I am sorry I should have put 
 so uncharitable a construction on it. And now 
 therefore, permit me to express my thanks for the 
 advertisements which you inserted " 
 
 "No thanks are needful, my dear Ellen," ra- 
 plied the lawyer. " I am prepared to do anything 
 
 for you and perhaps I have neglected you 
 
 somewhat. However, now that we have met, you 
 must permit me to show you some little attention. 
 I have a great many things to talk to you about. 
 You will come and dine with me to-day : Mrs. 
 
 Parks will be delighted to see you we have 
 
 often thought and spoken of you since my poor 
 mother's death. Ah, she was u saint, Ellen! — and 
 she is now an angel in heaven !" 
 
 Mr. Parks— as I had known him in my girlhood 
 — used to be a sanctimonious individual, with a 
 demure look, slow and drawling speech, large 
 spectacles, a limp white neckcloth, and a suit of 
 seedy black. Now he had a gay dashing sort of 
 appearance, as much as such an ill-favoured person 
 — with his red hair and whiskers, and freckled 
 face — could have. He was most fashionably ap- 
 parelled ; his look was anything but sanctimonious ; 
 the spectacles on the nose were eschewed for gold 
 eye-glasses hanging over the waistcoat ; and in- 
 stead of his speech being drawling, it was rapid 
 and off-hand, until it suddenly sank into lugu- 
 brious lowness of tone at the point when he 
 thought fit to go into the dismals on account of 
 his deceased mother. I certainly never had seen 
 anything very saint-like in respect to the late Mrs. 
 Parks; and there was really something blasphem 
 ously ludicrous in the manner in which he had al- 
 luded to her as an angel in heaven. 
 
 " You will come and dine with us at five, Ellen," 
 repeated Mr. Parks. "I will send my carriage for 
 you pray b^ in readiness." 
 
 I should have refused the invitation, were it not 
 for the assurance which he had given me to the 
 effect that he had a great many things to tell 
 me ; and my curiosity was naturally excited as I 
 thought that these things must be certain to con- 
 cern me somewhat, and that they would perhaps 
 elucidate the mystery of that strange man's con- 
 nexion with my deceased grandfather as well as 
 with Mrs. Parks and her son. I therefore ac- 
 cepted the invitation, and promised to be in readi- 
 ness by the time the carriage should arrive for me. 
 We then parted, — the brilliant equipage dashing 
 along in one direction, and I pursuing my way iu 
 another. 
 
 Punctually at a quarter to five o'clock I was 
 dressed in evening costume ; and Mr. Parks's car- 
 riage arrived to take me to his house. It was a 
 close carriage that he had sent, and of a magnifi- 
 cence to be in perfect keeping wit'a the equipage I 
 had seen in the morning. On arriving at the law- 
 I yer's mansion — which was in a fashionable West 
 End Square— I was conducted up to the drawing- 
 room, where Mrs. Parks received me. She was a 
 little moan-looking woman, with a very vixenish 
 expression of countenance— though she now en- 
 deavoured to render herself as amiable as possible. 
 ' I found her alone ; and as she invited me to take a
 
 EttEW PEHCTJ OR, THE MBMOIES OP AN ACTEESB. 
 
 31 
 
 Beat, she gave me to understand that her husband 
 would make his appearance in a few minutes. She 
 then proceeded to chatter away about her children, 
 who, she informed me, were all absent from home 
 at the time, at the different schools which they fre- 
 quented, according to their ages and sexes. I 
 should observe that the house was large and sump- 
 taouslj furnished, — every thing denoting the pos- 
 session of great wealth on the pait of its proprie- 
 tor. But there was an utter absence of good taste 
 in all the appointments ; so that its very splendour 
 had an air of tawdriness— and its rooms, crowded 
 with furniture and costliest nick-nacks, seemed 
 more intended for ostentatious display than for do- 
 mestic comfort. 
 
 Presently the door opened somewhat abruptly ; 
 and Mr. Parks made his appearance, at the same 
 time ushering in another gentleman. This latter 
 individual had a military appearance. He was in 
 reality, as I afterwards learnt, not more than five- 
 and-thirty years of age— but he looked at least 
 forty, on account of a certain dissipated appear- 
 ance and the ravages which debauchery had made 
 upon him. Thus, beneath the eyes the flesh looked 
 somewhat blue and swollen : there were hard lines 
 across his brow, and wrinkles at the corners of the 
 eyes. He had light sandy hair, and large mous- 
 tachios, scarcely a shade deeper in hue. Handsome 
 he had decidedly been; and his profile was still 
 good. He was tall and well made: his appear- 
 ance was not only military, but likewise aristocrati- 
 cally distinguished. His manners were those of a 
 polished gentleman, when he thought fit to render 
 them so : but in the course of the evening I fan- 
 cied that he surveyed me with a boldness which at 
 times amounted to a mingled insolence and famili- 
 arity which brought the colour to my cheeks. ^ 
 " My dear Ellen," said Mr. Parks, as he made 
 his appearance in company with the gentleman 
 whom I have just described, " I am delighted to 
 see you. I had intended that we should dine 
 alone, as I have a great deal to say to you : but I 
 met Colonel Bellew at the door — he is an intimate 
 friend of mine— he has the run of the house— so 
 he was just dropping in to take pot luck with us 
 —and I could not refuse him.— Colonel Bellew, 
 allow me the honour of presenting you to Miss 
 Percy." 
 
 The Colonel bowed, and said with a polite smile, 
 " I should have been very sorry indeed, Parks, if 
 you had refused me the pleasure of dining at your 
 table on such an occasion." 
 
 It will have been seen from the lawyer's obser- 
 vations that though he lived in the midst of so 
 much splendour and aflfected so much state, he 
 nevertheless had not contrived to discard certain 
 vulgarities from his discourse ; and I could not 
 help wondering that the polished and distinguished 
 Colonel Bellew should entertain such a bosom friend- 
 ship for the somewhat coarse-minded Mr. Parks. 
 
 Dinner was shortly afterwards announced : the 
 Colonel offered me his arm ; and we descended to 
 the dining-room. It was not a mere dinner— it 
 was a banquet of the most sumptuous description, 
 — a very pleasant sort of " pot-luck" for the Colo- 
 nel to be enabled to drop in upon whenever he 
 might think fit. Yet with the wretched false taste 
 and that inverse system of boasting into which up- 
 starts and parvenus are sure to fall, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Parks apologized for the meal, — declaring " it 
 
 was a mere family dinner— they had only intended 
 to treat me as one of themselves— and that they 
 could not possibly liave foreseen the Colonel meant 
 to join them that day." 
 
 There were wines in profusion : Colonel Bellew 
 did justice to the champagne ; and it was when 
 getting heated therewith that he began to regard 
 me across the table in a way that I did not like. 
 Methought that on two or three occasions Parks 
 shook his head deprecatingly at his friend, as much 
 as to give him to understand that the bold earnest- 
 ness of his regards was annoying me. I was glad 
 when the dessert was pliced upon the table, and 
 Mrs. Parks shortly afterwards rose and conducted 
 me up to the drawing-room. I should observe 
 that not the slightest relerence had been made the 
 whole time to my own personal circumstances : the 
 name of the Normans was not mentioned. I did 
 not even know whether Mr and Mrs. Parks were 
 aware that I was preparing for the stage. Nor 
 could I even conjecture how Mr. Parks ascertained 
 my address when he was purposing to call on me 
 in the morning. Now that I was alone with his 
 wife in the drawing room, I natm-ally thought 
 that she would discourse with me on thoso 
 topics : — but nothing of the sort. She expatiated 
 on the pleasures of London life — the large circle 
 of fashionable friend3 which she and her husband 
 possessed — the number of her servants — the ele- 
 gance of her parties— and the prices of the costly 
 ornaments which were everywhere so heaped about 
 that it was impossible to move through the draw- 
 ing-room without running the risk of doing some 
 damage with the sleeves or skirts of one's dress. 
 Thinking that possibly Mr. or Mrs. Parks might 
 have communicated with my aunt at Paisley, I 
 questioned the lady on the subject : but she replied 
 in the negative, and instantaneously flew off at 
 a tangent to tell me how much she bad given for 
 a particular china monster which stood upon a 
 console, and how old Lady Mullii^atawney, the 
 nabob's wife, had gone into fits at finding herself 
 outbidden at the sale of curiosities where the afore- 
 said china monster was purchased for the express 
 behoof of Mrs. Parks, who had seen and fallen in 
 love with it the day before. 
 
 It was not till past ten o'clock that the two 
 gentlemen joined us in the drawing-room; and 
 then I perceived that both were much the worse 
 for the wine of which they had partaken. Mr. 
 Parks leant against the wall to sip his cofiee ; and 
 there he swayed to and fro in a manner which 
 seemed every instant to threaten his equilibrium 
 with discomfiture. The Colonel walked perfectly 
 steady — but had a very flushed countenance. Dis- 
 gusted with the scene — wearied of Mrs. Parks's 
 tirades relative to the prices of her furniture and 
 uicknacks — and perceiving that there was no 
 chance of my obtaining on this occasion any in- 
 formation in respect to the many things that Mr. 
 Parks had expressed himself desirous to talk about 
 — I whispered to the lady that I should like to 
 return home. 
 
 " I am very sorry, my dear Miss Percy," she 
 answered, also in a whisper, "that we cannot send 
 the carriage with you, as the coachman begged 
 leave to go out this evening, his father being dead 
 or something of the sort. But if you do not mind 
 
 a hackney-coach unless indeed you will accept 
 
 a bed here for the night——"
 
 " Thank you for your kindness," I responded : 
 " but I must return to my friends, or they would 
 bo uneasy — and it is perfectly the same to me 
 whether I ride in a carriage or a hackney-coach." 
 
 Mrs. Parks rang the bell — the order was given 
 to the footman to fetch a hackney-coach, — and I 
 rose to take my leave. Mr. Parks and Colonel 
 Bellew insisted on seeing me down to the vehicle; 
 and I was dreadfully afraid lest the Colonel should 
 effer to accompany me as far as Hunter Street. 
 The proposal however, which I was fully deter- 
 mined to resist, was not made ; and the hackney- 
 coach rolled away from the front of the lawyer's 
 dwelling. 
 
 I reclined back in the vehicle, thinking -of all 
 that had taken place,— wondering how the Parkses 
 could have become so rich, and whether all their 
 fortune were based upon the money originally 
 bequeathed by my grandfather to his housekeeper, 
 — wondering likewise whether he had foreseen 
 that his mouey would for ever be alienated from 
 me, or whether he had intended it to become mine 
 at that old woman's death — and more than half 
 suspecting that Lis dying instructions could not 
 Lave been fulfilled to the very letter. 1 was so 
 absorbed in these reflections that I took no notice 
 of the course the haekuey-coach was pursuing — 
 until the idea gradually dawned in unto my mind 
 that the journey back to Hunter Street was much 
 longer than that from Hunter Street to the 
 lawyer's house. I rose from my haU'-rcclining 
 posture, and looked from the window : the hack- 
 ney-coach was passing rapidly by some iron rail- 
 ing, behind which there were trees. The niglit 
 was excessively dark — a misty rain was fall- 
 ing — both the windows were closed ; and as I 
 only observed objects dimly, mothought we were 
 passing through one of the Squares. I reclined 
 back again : another ten minutes must have 
 elapsed — still the equipage was rolling along, and 
 with increased rapidity. I felt assured that the 
 driver had made some mistake as to the address 
 that had been given to him, though it was I 
 myself who bad mentioned that address at start- 
 ing. I pulled the check-string : but it drew in all 
 the way — the coachman was not holding it in his 
 hand. I put down one of the windows, and called 
 out to him. 
 
 " All right. Miss," he said, " it's a little mistake 
 on my part — I missed the way — but in five mi- 
 nutes you will be there." 
 
 Perfectly satiafied with the explanation — though 
 Bomewhat annoyed by the delay — I reclined back 
 again j and for some few minutes longer gave way 
 to my reflections. From these I was startled by 
 the sudden stopping of the hackney-coach. It 
 was quite dark, and now raining in torrents. The 
 door was hastily opened — an umbrella, ready ex- 
 panded, was held over my head by a man-servant 
 —while a female threw a cloak upon my shoulders, 
 the hood falling over my head. I had not the 
 slightest doubt that these were Mr. Norman's 
 domestics. I hurried up the steps — hastily en- 
 tered the hall— and then the conviction flashed to 
 my mind that I was in a strange place. The front 
 door was closed : — in mingled consternation and 
 afl'right I glanced at the servants who had in- 
 troduced me thither: their faces were unknown 
 to me as the aspect of the hall itself ! 
 
 " Good heavens !" I said, " there is some mis- 
 
 take ! I beg a thousand pardons for the intrusion 
 and for the trouble I have given ! Pray stop tho 
 
 hackney-coach But I recollect! I have not 
 
 paid the man his fare !" 
 
 " This way, Miss, if you please —it is all right," 
 said the female servant, who was a woman of 
 about forty years of age, and with not a very pro- 
 possessing countenance ; for though her tone was 
 respectful, yet there was a lurking cunning in her 
 eyes which filled me with alarm. 
 
 "I tell you that I do not live here — and you 
 must know it!" I exclaimed, as I turned towards 
 the front door. 
 
 " You cannot leave the house, Miss," said the 
 man-servant — a tall, pompous-looking, half-inso- 
 lent fellow, with a leer upon his lips. '' As Kate 
 says, it's all right. The coach is gone — and the 
 man's faro is paid." 
 
 I sank down upon one of the hall-chairs, gasp- 
 ing in breathless terror. That I was the victim 
 of some treachery, 1 now felt convinced. But sud- 
 denly starting up, I summoned all my courage to 
 my aid, saying, " Suifor me to depart immediately ! 
 At your peril retain me here!" 
 
 " Tho plain fact is, Miss," replied the footman, 
 " you are a prisoner — and it's of no use to show 
 any airs, because they won't be attended to. Our 
 orders are to treat you with respect ; and this we 
 are prepared to do. There are roams ready for 
 your reception ; and you had better retire to th?m 
 at once. To-morrow perhaps you will see some 
 one who can tell you more about it." 
 
 "Whose house is this?" 1 demanded, in ft hoarse 
 voice — for I was terribly agitated : indeed I could 
 scarcely prevent myself from shriekiag out in the 
 wildness of despair. 
 
 " That question you must reserve for to-morrow, 
 if you please, Miss," replied the footman. " Our 
 orders are to say as little as possible, and to do 
 your bidding in all things so long as we see that 
 you don't escape." 
 
 Again I sat down, overwhelmed with a sense 
 of consternation and alarm- Who could possibly 
 have done this? Whose house was it ? All in a 
 moment a suspicion flashed to my mind. That 
 Colonel Bellew who had appeared to drop in acci- 
 dentally to dine — who had regarded me with such 
 bold libertine familiarity — and who had all along 
 seemed to have some particularly intimate under- 
 standing with Mv. Parks, — then the excuse for 
 not sending me home in the carriage— and the 
 substitution of tho hackney-coach, — yes, every- 
 thing combined to strengthen my suspicion that 
 the whole proceeding was a treacherous plot in 
 which Mr. and Mrs. Parks were the vile accom- 
 plices and Colonel Bellew was the principal ! Bat 
 I saw that it was useless to remonstrate with 
 these domestics, and that perhaps if I appeared 
 to submit patiently, some avenue of escape might 
 present itself. I accordingly did my best to com- 
 pose my feelings, and intimated to the female ser- 
 vant that I would retire to the chamber provided 
 for me. 
 
 It was a magnificent house to which I had been 
 brought. The hall was spacious, and adorned with 
 statues. A marble staircase led up to a landing 
 decorated with more statues and with immense 
 porcelain vases. To the next landing we ascended; 
 and there the female servant — who answered to 
 name of Catherine— opened a door and conducted
 
 LLLsx rzECT ; oil, inn mejioies oi' an actress. 
 
 me into an anteroom exquisitely fitted up as a I 
 boudoir. Nothing could exceed the refinement of 
 taste which here mingled with the evidences of 
 wealth. There was a large chamber adjoining; 
 and the appointments of this room almost tran- 
 scend description. Splendid alabaster statues 
 holding lamps in their hands — the costliest hang- 
 ings to the windows and the most splendid dra- 
 peries to the bed — a carpet so thick that the 
 feet sank deep into it— a toilet-table covered with 
 all necessaries, as well as with an infinite variety 
 of elegances in the form of perfumes, oils, poma- 
 tums, scented soaps— in a word, this chamber ap- 
 peared to have been fitted up for the reception of 
 some princess who from her cradle was accus- 
 tomed to be surrounded by everything that wealth 
 could purchase. 
 
 It must not however be supposed that I was in 
 a mood to be either dazzled or pleased by what- 
 loever thus met the eye : I was so profoundly the 
 IJo. 5. — EiLES Peect. 
 
 prey to mingled anguish and alarm that I could 
 scarcely restrain my feelings in the presence of 
 the domestic; and when she had retired, I flung 
 myself upon my knees at the foot of the couch, 
 weeping bitterly. 
 
 How I passed that wretched night, I can now 
 scarcely tell. I did not disapparel myself : I did 
 not even lie down upon the bed, for fear lest 
 slumber should overtake me. Sometimes I walked 
 about in an almost frenzied sta'e : at others I sat 
 down and sank into the deepest despondency — or 
 else gave way to my anguish in tears. What mis- 
 chief was in store for me ? This was the question 
 that afflicted me far more than even the idea of 
 what the Normans might think had become of 
 me; inasmuch as they might tranquillize them- 
 selves with the belief that I had remained to sleep 
 at the Parks's house : but, on the other hand, my 
 harrowing misgivings pointed towards frightful 
 calamities.
 
 34 
 
 ELIEN PEECT; OK, THE MEilOIES OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 I must; have fallen asleep through sheer ex- 
 haustion : for on gradually awaking as daylight 
 was stealing in at the window, I found myself 
 seated — or rather half reclining upon the sofa, 
 from the cushion of which I was lifting my aching 
 bead. My brows throbbed with the most painful 
 sensation; and there was a strange feverish feeling- 
 all over me. Still there was some consolation in 
 the knowledge that the night had passed undis- 
 turbed—that the morning had come — and that the 
 presence of the daylight would perhaps offer some 
 opportunity of escape. Drawing aside the window- 
 draperies, I looked forth, and beheld a garden with 
 green houses and conservatories. There were seve- 
 ral other dwellings near, all with gardens likewise ; 
 and I could not at first conjecture in what quarter 
 of the metropolis I thus found myself— until my 
 looks, wandering about, settled upon a dome 
 which I recognised to be that of the Colosseum in 
 the Eegent's Park. It was about three-quarters 
 of a mila distant : and therefore I was enabled to 
 form a tolerably accurate idea of the situation of 
 the house to which I had been brought. 
 
 A glance at the mirror upon the toilet-table 
 shocked me with the pale, careworn, and almost 
 haggard aspect of my countenance. My head was 
 still aching fearfully ; and I began to perform my 
 ablutions. For the purposes of the toilet there 
 was, as I have already siid, every requisite; and 
 when I had copiously bathed my throbbing brows, 
 the pain diminished. I however looked amongst 
 the articles on the toilet-table for some volatile 
 salts or pungent essence, which might refresh me 
 still more. I could find nothing that suited. A 
 drawer which stood partially open, contained 
 fragrant cakes of soap ; and therefore methought 
 that the other drawers might perhaps bo stored 
 with additional toilet accessories. I opened a 
 second drawer : it was filled with various nick- 
 nacks— but contained not the article which I 
 sought. I opened a third drawer; and this was 
 empty, save in respect to some few papers which 
 appeared to have been hastily crushed up in the 
 hand and thrust in there. I took them forth. I 
 will confess that I seized upon them greedily : the 
 idea struck me that they might possibly afford 
 some clue as to the ownership of the house, and 
 thus set at rest any uncertainty which I might 
 still entertain upon the point. Feeling myself to 
 be the victim of a foul treachery, I had not the 
 slightest hesitation nor punctilious delicacy in 
 examining these papers. 
 
 They proved however to be mere scraps, or frag, 
 ments in an incomplete slate. One was a portion 
 of a bill from a perfumer's and was duly receipted, 
 but with a name which I could not read : the 
 head of the bill was missing — and therefore I could 
 not ascertain who was the purchaser nor who the 
 tradesman. Another was a bill — or rather the 
 fragment of one — for hay, corn, and other pro- 
 vender supplied for horses ; and a third was a por- 
 tion of an undertaker's bill for a funeral that had 
 evidently been conducted on a very expensive scale. 
 But still I could glean no names. One fragment 
 alone remained ; and this was a portion of a letter 
 written in a beautiful feminine hand, though with 
 a certain degree of tremulousness as if the writer 
 had been labouring under the greatest excitement 
 at the time. This impression too was all the more 
 powerfully conveyed by the fact that many of the 
 
 words were underlined with three or four dashes, 
 as if to give the most vigorous emphasis possible 
 to the terms which expressed the strong feelings 
 of the writer. Leaving out a few words which 
 were upon tlio uneven parts of the upper and 
 lower edges of the fragment, the intelligible and 
 consecutive portion would run as follows:^ 
 
 "Therefore do I bid you an eternal farewell! 
 Yes— it is eternal! !N'ever, never again will you 
 behold the wretched being around whose heart you 
 wove your spells ! Never, never a^ain shall you 
 hear of her whom a stupendous infatuation mide 
 your victim! Oh, tears — tears for the remainder 
 of my life ! — naught, naught but tears! Ah, will 
 they wipe away the stain ? May God have mercy 
 upon me ! I feel distracted. I am like a maniac 
 imprisoned and chained in a cell, wanting to do 
 something, but yet not rightly understanding what 
 it is that the soul yearns to do. Oh I is it suicide 
 which is thus sitting like a black shape of vague- 
 ness, yet awful and terrible, amidst the darkness of 
 my thoughts? My soul is harrowed: vulture- 
 claws are tearing at my brain : serpents are pierc- 
 ing my heart with their stings. The talons of the 
 former strike deeper and deeper into that brain : 
 the fiery snakes tighten their coils around that 
 heart. My tongue is parched, as if ashes were in 
 my throat. Oh, for water ! No ! —tears, tears, 
 tears must be my portion for evermore ! But again 
 I say, will they wipe away this sense of crime ? 
 Oh, the power of love, that it should have made me 
 what I am ! Was there ever such a love as mine ? 
 Thou wast mine idol : I deemed thee an angel until 
 thou didst reveal thyself as a fiend ! Good 
 heavens ! that when methought I was listening in 
 the soft ecstasy of ineffable tenderness, to the 
 beatific language of passion which you were breath- 
 ing in mine ear, your words should gradually take 
 a d fferent meaning— so that I (unconsciously at 
 first) found myself listening to such an insidious 
 tale as none but Satan's breath could waft in unto 
 the brain. And yet it was so !— and I yielded — 
 God help me ! I yielded ! I who was first the vic- 
 tim of love, became the victim of crime ! But 
 thou, man ! what art thou now doing in the 
 world ? Art thou happy for all this ? No, no ! 
 Even if thou art racked with one millionth portion 
 of the horrible thoughts, feelings, and sensations 
 which are preying upon me — tearing my brain, 
 stinging my heart, poisoning my very life-blood at 
 its source, — my God ! if thou dost experience as 
 much only of all these horrors as a drop is to the 
 
 illimitable ocean, thou wilt " 
 
 Here the contents of the fragment, as appalling 
 as they were strange, abruptly broke off; and the 
 paper fell from my hand. I had read those lines 
 with feelings of the intensest horror; but all of a 
 sudden the idea smote me that they must be the 
 ravings of a maniac; and then a sense of immeasur- 
 able compassion took possession of my heart. 
 With that beautiful handwriting, bespeaking the 
 highest refinement of education and of taste, natu- 
 rally became associated an idea of transcending 
 beauty on the part of the authoress. But, Ah 1 
 again did a feeling of horror spring up in my mind, 
 as I thought to myself that she might have beea 
 the victim of some treachery ere her intellects were 
 turned. And was not the author of her laiseriej 
 the same who had rendered me a captive within 
 the walls of that dwelling ? The place suddenly
 
 ELLEN PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OB AH ACTEESS 
 
 35 
 
 assumed another aspect : it was no longer exquisite 
 in its appointments nor splendid in its draperies, 
 its gilding', its sculptures, and its furniture : it 
 struck cold and awful upon my soul, as if it were 
 the gloomiest of dungeons, fraught with all the 
 most terrible traditions of deeds of crime, trea- 
 chery, and murder. Had I found myself sud- 
 denly transported into a cell whence a howling 
 maniac had just been conveyed away — and had my 
 eyes fallen upon chains attached to the walls, 
 rotting straw upon the damp pavement-floor, and 
 massive bars at the windows, the revulsion of my 
 feelings could not have been more powerful nor 
 more fearful. 
 
 From this dread state was I suddenly aroused 
 by a knocking at the door of the chamber ; and 
 the voice of the female-servant inquired whether I 
 wanted anything P I proceeded to open the door ; 
 for I bad fast locked it on the preceding evening. 
 Catharine looked at me, evidently with some de- 
 gree of surprise, as if she saw by my appearance 
 that I had not been to bed all night, and as if she 
 marvelled that my position should have so great 
 an effect upon my mind. I said nothing, but issued 
 forth from the chamber : I was determined at once 
 to ascertain to what extent I was a prisoner in 
 the house ; for if I were permitted to penetrate into 
 the garden, I was resolved either to scale the walls, 
 or else by my cries to bring the neighbours to my 
 aid. Catherine followed me down the stairs ; and 
 throwing open the door of a back-parlour, she re- 
 quested me to walk in. The room was elegantly 
 furnished; and a table was spread for breakfast. 
 A glance however showed me that it was only laid 
 for one person. 
 
 " Who is your master ? and when will he be 
 here ?" I inquired. 
 
 " The first question I cannot answer," said the 
 servant-woman : " to the second I can only reply 
 that he will be here in the course of the day." 
 
 " I need no refreshment. Let me walk out in 
 the garden,^ I am suffocating for the want of 
 fresh air." 
 
 "You compel me to speak plainly, Miss," re- 
 joined Catherine. "You cannot go into the gar- 
 den. Pray be tractable^-or you will compel us to 
 use means " 
 
 " Enough !" I said, literally shivering with des- 
 peration. " Spare your threats " 
 
 " I must add one word," said the woman,— 
 " which is, that the slightest attempt to raise any 
 cries from the windows " 
 
 " Enough ! enough !" I ejaculated, stamping 
 my foot vehemently. " I see that you are capable 
 of anything!" 
 
 I flung myself upon a sofa ; and Catherine 
 quitted the room. There was something so reso- 
 lute in her countenance while she spoke, that I 
 was frightened : I felt myself to be completely in 
 the power of the inmates of that dwelling. Vague 
 ideas of a terrible coercion bad floated through my 
 brain ; and I had no more power nor courage for 
 any active measures than if I were under the in- 
 fluence of a horrible nightmare dream from which, 
 with the fantastic fearfulness of such visions, I 
 vainly strove to free myself. I touched nothing 
 that was upon the breakfast- table : I fell into a 
 State of torpor ; — all my energies were completely 
 nuiiibed, as if my \ ery spirit itself was broken. 
 
 Thus several hours passed away ; and I made no 
 
 attempt to quit that room. At length I gradually 
 woke up as it were from the stupor of utter de- 
 spondency ; and now an idea struck me Fool 
 that I was, when alone in my chamber, not to 
 raise the window and shriek out for assistance 1 
 But it might not even now be too late ? — and in- 
 spired by this wild hope, I issued from the 
 breakfast-parlour. A porter was seated in the 
 hall : he seemed to be dozing in his great chair, 
 and apparently took no notice of me. I ascended 
 the stairs : I reached the second floor ; and Cathe- 
 rine came out of a room adjoining my own. I 
 entered the latter : she followed me ; and as if 
 divining my intention, she said, "Eeuiember my 
 injunctions. Miss ! Your cries would be useless ; 
 we should find some pretext to account for them ; 
 and rest assured that you would not improve your 
 condition." 
 
 She then walked away with an air of so much 
 confidence in her power over me, that all my hopes 
 vanished, and I again sank into utter despon- 
 dency. I threw myself upon the sofa, and gave 
 vent to my tears. As I presently wiped them 
 away, my looks settled on the paper which had 
 fallen on the carpet, — that fragment the contents 
 of which were so awful, so harrowing ! The ideas 
 which that scrap of paper conjured up in my 
 mind, were intolerable : for in the morbid state of 
 my feelings, I could not help identifying myself 
 with the maniac condition in which I believed 
 thit the wriier of that letter must have been 
 plunged. I started up, and thrust it along with 
 the other papers into the drawer whence I had 
 taken it. Scarcely had I done this, when my 
 ear caught the sounds of footsteps in the ante- 
 room. I turned round suddenly : the chamber 
 door, which I had left ajar, opened ; and Colonel 
 Bellew made his appearance. 
 
 A scream was about to burst from my lips, 
 when a quick revulsion of feeling seized upon me. 
 I was in a moment nerved with a strength of 
 mind that astonished myself. 
 
 " Begone, sir !" I said : " dare not thus to in- 
 trude upon my presence ! There is law in Eng- 
 land to punish this outrage of which you have 
 been guilty !" 
 
 It seemed as if the Colonel were astounded at 
 the manner in which I addressed him; and my 
 courage rose in proportion^ 
 
 " Your myrmidons," I continued, " have obeyed 
 your orders only too effectually, and have kept me 
 a prisoner here. But i/ou will not dare bar my 
 way !" 
 
 While thus speaking, I hastily put on my 
 bonnet and shawl ; and still nerved with all the 
 fortitude which the very desperation ot my cir- 
 cumstances had conjured up, I moved towards the 
 threshold on which he stood. 
 
 "No, by heaven!" he suddenly exclaimed, 
 closing the door and placing his back against it ; 
 "you shall not leave me thus!— you shall hear 
 me yea, by heaven ! you shall hear me! 
 
 I was now overwhelmed with terror again : my 
 mind underwent a quick transition — my courage 
 vanished. 
 
 " Beautiful girl — adorable Ellen !" continued 
 the Colonel, " I beseech you to listen to me ! 
 Drive me not to madness ! goad me not to des- 
 peration I" 
 
 A piercing scream pealed from my lips ; and at
 
 36 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTKES3. 
 
 that very instant a loud double knock at the front 
 door thundered through the house. 
 
 "For heaven's sake be silent!" exclaimed the 
 Colonel; "be silent? Betray me not! and you 
 shall presently be free !" 
 
 " No — this instant !" I exclaimed : " this instant 
 must I depart ! Stand aside, I command you !" 
 
 " Never, never will I thus abandon you !" cried 
 Bellew : " never will I thus surrender up my con- 
 quest !" 
 
 His countenance suddenly grew inflamed, as 
 with extended arms he rushed towards me. 
 
 Another loud, long, rending scream pealed from 
 my lips : Bellew's arms encircled me — I struggled 
 desperately — shriek after shriek did I send ringing 
 forth. There was the hasty rush of footsteps on 
 the stairs — the door burst open — and as the 
 Colonel suddenly quitted his hold upon me, I sank 
 exhausted and half senseless upon the sofa. Diz- 
 ziness and bewilderment was in my brain : I was 
 only vaguely and dimly aware of some brief pass- 
 ing altercation which ensued. Then the door 
 slammed violently— I started up : — EdwiQ St. Clair 
 sank upon bia knees at my feet. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BOX AT THE THEATRE. 
 
 Mt joy at this sudden deliverance was so great 
 and bewildering, that I could not immediately find 
 terms wherein to express my gratitude. Forgotten 
 too was the scene of the present incidents: I re- 
 membered not that it was in the sanctity of the 
 chamber where my deliverer thus remained. 
 
 " Ellen," he cried, " behold me at your feet ! 
 Hear me beseech you to bestow one smile — one 
 kind look upon him who has had the happiness of 
 succouring you at a moment " 
 
 " My heartfelt gratitude is your's. Captain St. 
 Clair," I interrupted him : then suddenly recol- 
 lecting where this appeal on his own behalf was 
 made, the flush of wounded pride, not altogether 
 unmingled with indignation, appreared upon my 
 cheeks ; and I said, " You will have the goodness 
 —the generosity— at once to retire." 
 
 He sprang up to his feet, as if he himself were 
 only at the instant rendered sensible of the fact 
 that he was lingering in a place where he ought 
 not to be ; and my indignation vanishing, I said, 
 " Await me on the stairs : I will be with you in a 
 moment." 
 
 He bowed ; and the door closed behind him. 
 I drauk a draught of cold water ; for my throat 
 was parched with the efiect of all the excitement 
 which within the last few minutes I had endured ; 
 and I hastily readjusted my toilet. My heart was 
 still all in a flutter; and there was still a species of 
 bewildering sensation in my brain. In a few mo- 
 ments I left the room, and found St. Clair waiting 
 for me on the first landing. 
 
 " That villain has gone. Miss Percy," were the 
 words in which he hastened to address me — thus 
 alluding to Colonel Bellew. " Enter here for a 
 few minutes, to tranquillize and compose your- 
 self." 
 
 He indicated a door which stood open, and 
 
 which revealed a splendidly furnished drawing- 
 room. I was scarcely the mistress of my own 
 actions, so much did I indeed feel the necessity of 
 a few minutes' leisure to regain my self-possession 
 and composure. I entered the drawing-room, and 
 sat down. St. Clair took a seat at a little distance: 
 and he said in the softest tones of his harmonious 
 voice, and with an expression of the tenderest con- 
 cern, in his countenance, " How did all this happen, 
 Miss Percy ?" 
 
 I told the tale which is already known to the 
 reader : but I said nothing relative to the strange 
 and terrible fragmentary document which had so 
 much harrowed my feelings in the bed-chamber. 
 In the first place it bore no immediate reference to 
 the explanations which I had to give, and which I 
 was desirous to cut short as much as possible ; and 
 in the second place I did not choose to suS'er it lo 
 be thought that I had with any sentiment of 
 curiosity peered into the mysteries or details of 
 my prison-house. St. Clair listened with an air 
 of mingled interest, surprise, and indignation ; 
 and when I had finished, he exclaimed, " The vil- 
 lain ! the heartless villain ! I will yet chastise him 
 most terribly for this outrage." 
 
 "Oh, Captain St. Clair," I said, as the idea of a 
 duel instantaneously flashed to my mind ; " I be- 
 seech that you will not on my account bring your- 
 self into any further collision with that bad man. 
 My gratitude " 
 
 "Oh, Ellen!" he exclaimed, "little, little did 1 
 think that Bellew was capable of such wickedness 
 as this I Fortunate indeed was it that in paying a 
 mere visit of friendship, I should have been led to 
 his house at the very instant when my presence 
 was so needful ! Conceive my astonishment when 
 on the front door being opened, my ears caught 
 those rending shrieks ! — conceive the excitement 
 with which I burst through the midst of the do- 
 mestics who strove to detain me!— and then con- 
 ceive, if you can, the boundless surprise, the rage, 
 the indignation, with which I made the startling 
 discovery that it was you, Ellen— yow whose image 
 has never been absent from my thoughts " 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I said, — and I felt my 
 cheeks crimsoning as I was suddenly reminded of 
 the impassioned words in which he had addressed 
 me while kneeling at my feet in the bed-chamber,— 
 " you will see the propriety of my immediate de- 
 parture hence." 
 
 " Oh ! forgive me. Miss Percy — forgive me, 
 Ellen," he exclaimed, " if in the excitement of my 
 feelings certain words should have escaped my lips 
 
 But no language can convey an idea of all I 
 
 felt when recognising in you the object of that 
 villain's outrage ! Yes— you shall depart hence 
 
 Yet stay, Ellen ! One word — only one word! 
 
 Nay, look not thus! — it is not of myself I am 
 
 about to speak it is for your good thut I am 
 
 thinking I You know not the world as well as I ; 
 you know not its wickedness! Deeply, deeply does 
 it pain me to have to speak thus on so delicate a 
 subject; but at least, Ellen, you can take counsel 
 from me as if I were a friend— as if I were a 
 brother !" 
 
 " Ah ! now you speak," I said, " in a way to 
 which I can listen. Proceed, Captain St. Clair; 
 and rest assured that whatsoever good advice you 
 may give me under existing circumstances, will ex- 
 perience all my gratitude."
 
 "The world, Miss Percj, is scandalous," he con- 
 tinued; "and though every one who knows you, 
 cannot fail to comprehend and appreciate the 
 purity of your mind and character, — yet those who 
 know you not, may think within themselres, and 
 whisper to each other, that a young and beautiful 
 lady — carried off by treachery as you were — could 
 
 not have passed so many long, long hours a 
 
 whole night in the house of a notorious liber- 
 tine " 
 
 " Good heavens !" I murmured, overwhelmed 
 with sharae and confusion : " is it possible that the 
 effects of that unprincipled man's conduct " 
 
 " Alas, yes, Miss Percy !" continued St. Clair : 
 " they will be fatally experienced by you, if you 
 suffer publicity to be given to this adventure. It 
 is one which for your own sake must be hushed in 
 silence. Leave me to the chastisement of !Bel> 
 lew " 
 
 " No, no," I exclaimed : " it is now for me. 
 Captain St. Clair, to offer my advice! Promise 
 that you will not provoke that man to a hostile 
 encounter— he is indeed so utterly unworthy of 
 your resentment " 
 
 " I promise anything — everything, Miss Percy !" 
 ejaculated St. Clair, " provided that you yourself 
 will follow my counsel. Not even to the Normans 
 ought you to explain what has happened— unless 
 indeed they should by any accident have discovered 
 that you did not remain during the past night be- 
 neath the roof of Mr. and Mrs. Parks " 
 
 " The accomplices in Colonel Bellew's treachery !" 
 I exclaimed, with a feeling of the bitterest indig- 
 nation against the persons thus alluded to. 
 
 St. Clair gazed upon me with a look of astonish- 
 ment; and he exclaimed, "Impossible!" 
 
 " Impossible P" I echoed, also in surprise : " how 
 can I entertain any other opinion ? Have I not 
 told you all the circumstances " 
 
 " True ! But did not you hear what Bellew 
 himself said during the few instants' altercation 
 which took place between him and me? His 
 words were, ' St. Clair, if you feel yourself ag- 
 grieved in respect to this young lady, you may 
 have satisfaction. But implicate not others by 
 your unjust suspicions : the deed was all mine own !' 
 —Thus you see. Miss Percy," continued St. Clair, 
 " Mr. Parks and his wife were utterly ignorant, 
 and therefore innocent " 
 
 " But all those little circumstances ?" I inter- 
 jected, my mind still full of suspicion in reference 
 to Parks and bis wife, — '•' the presence of Colonel 
 Bellew — the excuse in respect to the carriage — the 
 summoning of a hackney-coach " 
 
 " Mere coincidences !" interrupted St. Clair ; 
 " and they would not have surprised you if no- 
 thing serious had been the result. But tell me — 
 did BcUcw accompany you down stairs to the 
 backney-coach !" 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " Ah ! now I recollect ! — 
 be looked at the horses— he said something to the 
 coachman——" 
 
 " The mystery is cleared up !" ejaculated St. 
 Clair. " A piece of gold dropped into that coach- 
 man's bands — a few hurriedly whispered words — 
 and the man had his cue I Perhaps he took you 
 by a circuitous route, so as to allow Bellew full 
 time in the interval to speed hither and give the 
 requisite orders to his servants. Assuredly, Miss 
 Percy," added St. Clair, with emphasis, " you 
 
 have no just grounds to charge your friends wuh 
 whom you dined " 
 
 " Oh, Captain St. Clair !" I exclaimed ; " in- 
 finitely would I prefer the belief that Mr. and Mrs. 
 Parks are really innocent — they who have known 
 me since my infancy ! Yes, it must be so ! and 
 heaven forgive me if I have hitherto been unjust 
 enough to fling upon them the weight ot my sus- 
 picions !" 
 
 '•' I know nothing of Mr. and Mrs. Parks," con- 
 tinued St. Clair: "but still, as a matter of justice, 
 I should be sorry that innocent people were unde- 
 servedly charged. You have now displayed the 
 true generosity of your character in its wonted 
 and most natural light. Of course, Miss Percy, I 
 mean that you should inform Mr. and Mrs. Parks 
 of the villanous deed perpetrated by their friend 
 Colonel Bellew — so that they may be put upon their 
 guard against him. But to all the rest of the 
 world secrecy and silence ! Pardon me for adding 
 that your fair fame must not stand even the 
 slightest risk of being tarnished by the breath of 
 scandal. As for Bellew himself, he will only be 
 too glad to hush up an exploit which has termi- 
 nated to his discomflture." 
 
 " Again, Captain St. Clair," I said, " do I ex- 
 press my heartfelt gratitude towards you:" — then 
 as I gave him my hand, I added, " You have in- 
 timated that we may be friends : pray let us bo 
 always so !" 
 
 Although I bent down my countenance in con- 
 fusion as I spoke, yet I gave to the concluding 
 words a certain emphasis, which was as much as to 
 imply that be was to consider it impossible he 
 could ever be more to me than a mere friend. As 
 he retained my hand for a few seconds in his own, 
 his countenance — which, as the reader knows, was 
 most remarkably handsome — assumed an expres- 
 sion of such ineffable sadness, mingled with so. 
 much appealing tenderness, that I experienced a 
 boundless compassion for him who loved me so 
 well yet loved me so vainly, 
 
 " You shall now depart. Miss Percy," be said : 
 " my carriage is at the door — use it — I will go in 
 another direction. You ought to drive at once to 
 the house of Mr. Parks ; and there you can dis- 
 miss my equipage. His own carriage can take 
 you home ; and thus the Normans need not sus- 
 pect that you have been elsewhere unless in- 
 deed they should have already discovered it — which 
 I think is however by no means probable ; for 
 when they found that you did not return home 
 last night, they would naturally conclude that you 
 had remained with the friends with whom you were 
 so intimate, and beneath whose roof you might so 
 well sojourn, inasmuch as they had known you from 
 your childhood." 
 
 Captain St. Clair handed me down the stairs ; 
 and 1 was pleased at not encountering any of the 
 servants of the house, as their presence would 
 only have excited my indignant blood after the 
 coercive treatment I had experienced. St. Clair 
 assisted me into his carriage — ordered me to bo 
 driven to the house cf Mr. Parks — and raising his 
 hat, sped away in another direction. During my 
 ride to the lawyer's abode, I reviewed all the ad- 
 ventures through which I had passed ; and I cama 
 to the conclusion that St. Clair was perfectly right 
 in the counsel he had given me with regard to 
 maintaiuing silence on the subject. Inexperienced
 
 38 
 
 ELIiEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OV XK ACTI6E88. 
 
 as I comparatively was in the wickednesses of tho 
 world, yet I could not help comprehending that a 
 construction most prejudicial to myself might be 
 put upon the incident by ill-natured imaginations 
 and scandalous tongues. 
 
 On arriving at Mr. Parks's house, I dismissed 
 Captain St. Clair'a carriage: and on ascending to 
 the drawing-room, found Mr, Parks and his wife 
 seated there alone together. They appeared to be 
 surprised on beholding me : but when I extended 
 my hand towards them, they gave me the most 
 cordial welcome. Without many preparatory 
 words I began to explain all the adventures which 
 I had experienced : but my narrative was fre- 
 quently interrupted by the vehement ejaculations 
 which burst from the lips of both. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Parks !" exclaimed the lady, when 
 I had finished ; " what a villain is this whom 
 we have been receiving at the house! — what a 
 serpent have you been cherishing in your breast !" 
 " I tell you what it is, Mrs. Parks," said the 
 lawyer j " Ellen shall be avenged for this ! I will 
 immediately go and issue process against the 
 scoundrel Bellesv ; and he shall smart for it. It is 
 a glorious action ! — forcible abduction — the liberty 
 of the subject violated — detention vi et armis for 
 an entire night and a good part of a day — menaces 
 —intimidation— coercion — and it almost amounts 
 to assault and battery ! By heaven, we will lay 
 the damages at five thousand pounds." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Parks, for 
 your zeal in my cause," I said : " but under exist- 
 ing circumstances it will be better to hush the 
 matter up completely. That is Captain St. Clair's 
 
 advice " 
 
 " I don't care about anybody's advice !" ejacu- 
 lated the lawyer, dashing his clenched fist upon the 
 table in such a state of excitement that I had never 
 before seen him display. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Parks," said his wife, " all things 
 considered — and chiefly for Ellen's sake, you 
 
 know " 
 
 "Ah, I forgot !" said the lawyer, becoming ap- 
 peased, and therewith thoughtful : " publicity has 
 its inconveniences. Well, well, perhaps it will be 
 better to hush the matter up. But understand me 
 well, Mrs. Parks ! — that scoundrel Bellew shall never 
 again set his foot within the walls of this house ! 
 I cut him henceforth and for ever ! As for Cap- 
 tain St. Clair, I long to make his acquaintance, 
 and to express my gratitude for his admirable con- 
 duct. Do you know where he lives, Ellen ?" 
 " No," I responded. " I have heard that he 
 
 has a country-seat in Hertfordshire Ah! by 
 
 tho bye, I recollect ! Mr. Norman has written a 
 note or two thanking him for presents of game ; 
 and he has dii-ected his letters to some club at the 
 West End." 
 
 "Perhaps the Junior United Service P" sug- 
 gested Mr. Parks, " as Captain St. Clair has been 
 in the army." 
 
 " That is the club !" I rejoined. " I remember 
 hearing the name mentioned." 
 
 " Very well ! Then I shall write to Captain St. 
 Clair," said the lawyer. " Mrs. Parks," he added, 
 turning to his spouse, "when do you give that 
 grand ball of your's ?" 
 
 " Next Monday evening," replied the lady. 
 "Very good!" ejaculated Parks. "We will 
 send the carriage to fetch you, Ellen, at nine 
 
 o'clock; and ou that occasion we will take care it 
 shall be in readiness to convey you home again. 
 Mrs. Parks, have the goodness to sit down and 
 write an invitation to Captain St. Clair. I will 
 enclose it in a letter of my own." 
 
 " Mr. Parks," I said, " I thank you for your in- 
 vitation ; but I am not accustomed to fashionable 
 society — I mean," I added with a slight blush, 
 " not that of ladies " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Ellen ! We shall be proud to 
 introduce you. But here is the carriage at the 
 door ; and it shall take you home. I agree with 
 you— it will be better to hush up tho i ^'^jurrences 
 of last night, and therefore you need say nothing 
 to your friends the Normans. It is fortunate they 
 did not send to inquire after you." 
 
 I took leave of Mr. and Mrs. Parks ; and during 
 the drive back to Hunter Street, I more than once 
 reproached myself with the idea of my injustice 
 in having thrown suspicion upon persons who had 
 just displayed themselves so eager to espouse my 
 cause — so anxious to punish the author of the out- 
 rage, and so zealous to express their gratitude 
 towards my deliverer. On reaching Hunter Street 
 — which was at about four o'clock in the afternoon 
 — I found the Normans awaiting in the drawiug- 
 room the announcement of dinner; and as there 
 were three or four guests present, I escaped much 
 questioning, and was thus spared the necessity of 
 giving any evasive replies, or of condescending to 
 falsehood. I found that the Normans fancied I 
 had been all the time at the Parks's house, and 
 that they considered it natural enough. When 
 they went to the theatre, I excused myself from 
 accompanying them : for being wearied and ex- 
 hausted, I was anxious to have a good night's 
 rest. 
 
 On the following day, when I again reviewed 
 all that had passed, I had still some little uneasi- 
 ness in my mind as to whether Captain St. Clair 
 would fulftl the half- pledge he had given me and 
 abstain from provoking Colonel Bellew to a duel. 
 1 hoped that he would call on some pretext, in 
 order that I might be convinced that he had ful- 
 filled my wishes in that respect : but the forenoon 
 wore away — and he came not. There were no 
 rehearsals at the theatre that day ; and therefore 
 the Normans lunched at home. Lord Frederick 
 RavensclilTe dropped in; and Mr. Norman, in the 
 course of conversation, inquired if he had recently 
 seen his friend St. Clair ? 
 
 " Not for the last two days," responded his 
 lordship : and then he again turned to whisper in 
 the ear of Juliet, who listened to him with a flush 
 upon the cheeks and a smile upon the lips. 
 
 The afternoon passed : dinner was announced : 
 — still St. Clair came not. The trouble of my 
 mind was increasing. It was not that I loved 
 him : let not the reader suppose it for an instant. 
 Had it been any one else who succoured me under 
 similar circumstances, I should have felt an equal 
 dread at the horrors of a duel on my account. I 
 went to the theatre in the hope that I might see 
 him there : but as I sat in the box with the 
 elderly widow- lady, who, as I have before said, so 
 kindly acted as my chaperone on these occasions, 
 I for some time vainly looked around in the 
 anxious expectation of beholding the object of my 
 thoughts. At length the door of the box in which 
 I and the elderly lady were seated alone together.
 
 EHEIT PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEEES. 
 
 39 
 
 opened ; and Captain St. Clair made his appear- 
 ance. It was the first time he had ever sought 
 me in that box or in the society of the elderly lady 
 who had been an actress in her time : and the idea 
 flashed to my mind that something had happened. 
 A second glance, confirming that suspicion, turned 
 the blood into ice in my veins : St. Clair's left arm 
 was in a sling ! 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Percy," he said, ^\ith his 
 wonted air of easy politeness, as he proffered me 
 his hand : but at the same time he darted upon 
 me a look which was as much as to bid me com- 
 mand any emotion that the spectacle of the sling 
 might have conjured up. " Will you present me 
 to your friend that I may offer my apologies for 
 intruding into her box ?" 
 
 I know not how I murmured forth the neces- 
 sary words of introduction between Captain St. 
 Clair and my elderly friend : but the latter was 
 infinitely pleased at having so fashionable a gentle- 
 man in her box ; and there was consequently no 
 need for apologies. The worthy lady, however, 
 suspected no doubt that it was not she herself who 
 was the object of St. Clair's attraction to that 
 box; and after a few ordinary civilities had been 
 interchanged between herself and her new ac- 
 quaintance, she turned to devote herself with 
 redoubled attention to the proceedings of the 
 stage. 
 
 Meanwhile I had been sitting in the cold torpid 
 state of semi-stupefaction at the idea that a duel 
 had after all taken place on my account, and that 
 St. Clair had been wounded. Methought, too, 
 that while he was making a few courteous obser- 
 vations to my elderly friend — and assuring her in 
 answer to an inquiry which she put, that he had 
 merely experienced a contusion on the left 
 shoulder by a fall from his horse, — methought, I 
 say, that he was in reality suffering great pain, 
 which with a stoical fortitude he was striving to 
 conceal. The story of a fall from a horse I did 
 not for a single instant believe ; and all the time 
 I sat in that cold torpor of the senses, my looks 
 were fixed with a deep, deep compassion upon St. 
 Clair's countenance. At length the elderly lady 
 turned towards the stage : St. Clair placed himself 
 next to me ; and I said in a low deep whisper, 
 "Tell me — for God's sake tell me, what has taken 
 place P" 
 
 " My dear Miss Percy," he answered, likewise 
 in a whijper, " do not give yourself any uneasi- 
 ness. It is nothing 1 shall be well in a few 
 
 days :" — but at that same instant over his coun- 
 tenance there passed an expression which pained 
 and afilicted me to behold. 
 
 "You are suffering at this instant," I said, with 
 the tears ready to gush out of my eyes; "you are 
 suffering— and I cannot bear to see it !" 
 
 A glow of pleasure succeeded that of pain 
 upon his countenance — while I felt the blood 
 mantling in crimson upon my own, as the thought 
 struck me that I had been betrayed by my feelings 
 of regret, compassion, and distress, into saying 
 something that might be interpreted in a warmer 
 and more tender sense. 
 
 "Miss Percy," continued St. Clair, " I knew all 
 the time — yesterday — that there must be a duel to- 
 day ; for I and Bollew had placid ourselves in a 
 position towards each other which rendered a hos- 
 tile encounter absolutely necessary. You must 
 
 not think that because Bellew proved himself to h3 
 a villain towards yourself, he was either debarred 
 from seeking satisfaction from me — or that I was 
 deprived of any right or pretext for demanding 
 such satisfaction from him. The code of honour " 
 
 and here St. Clair gave a peculiar smile for 
 
 an instant — " is very different ! I knew therefore 
 that this duel must take place " 
 
 " And yet you pledged yourself," I said, more 
 than half reproachfully, " that you would ab- 
 stain " 
 
 " My dear Ellen," interrupted St. Clair, " I am 
 sure you would not have me stand the chance of 
 being branded as a coward. No — never !" — and 
 here his countenance again grew flushed with an 
 animation that rendered him strikingly handsome 
 — handsome though he at all times was, even in 
 his most ordinary moments. " But knowing that 
 the encounter must ensue, there was nevertheless 
 no need to distress your miud with the assurance 
 that such was the case. Oh 1 had you not already 
 suffered enough to render me anxious to save you 
 every additional pang ? Ah ! and believe me, 
 Ellen, that even when I stood face to face with 
 my enemy, it was sweet — Oh ! it was sweet to 
 know that I was daring death on your account ! 
 And as for this wound, I esteem it light— trivial — 
 absolute nothingness, in comparison with all that 
 I would so gladly and cheerfully endure for your 
 sake !" 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I said, in accents that 
 were scarcely audible, so strong were the emotions 
 of distress, sympathy, and affliction that were 
 agitating within mo; "you know not how I am 
 grieved to think that this should have occurred ! 
 Upon my gratitude — upon my friendship — you 
 have everlasting claims : but humble as I am, how 
 can I hope to be enabled to testify either ? And 
 now, Captain St. Clair," I hurriedly added, " I 
 presume that the whole circumstances will become 
 known " 
 
 " Not so !" interrupted St. Clair ; " think you 
 that I was not all along careful of that reputation 
 of yours, Ellen, which as— as— your — your friend 
 
 your — your — brother for you have told 
 
 me I may consider myself so 1 value infi. 
 
 nitely more than my own ? — and that is speaking 
 with an immensity of emphasis; for as a rule, what 
 can be dearer to a man than his own repute ? 
 However, I repeat, I took care of everything that 
 concerned yourself. In a private note I appealed 
 to Bellew's honour to be silent on the subject ; and 
 to our seconds we pretexted a different cause of 
 quarrel — or at least we so altered the main facts 
 that even if the duel itself should become known, 
 public attention cannot be turned towards your- 
 self?" 
 
 "I feel all the embarrassment, Captain St, 
 Clair," I said, " of being compelled to repeat over 
 and over again the expression of my heartfelt gra- 
 titude." 
 
 "Gratitude, Ellen?" said Edwin St. Clair, in 
 the most melting tones of his voice of manly har- 
 mony : " wherelore use that word ? Oh, if you 
 knew how cheerfully I would have died for you;— 
 and, Oh ! if you could only conjecture how sin- 
 cerely I shall wish myself dead if your words and 
 looks continue to deny me all hope -" 
 
 '• Captain St. Clair," I interrupted him, looking 
 p into his countenance with an expression of the
 
 40 
 
 EtlE» PEBCT; OB, THE MEJI0IK8 OE ATT ACTRESS. 
 
 most earnest and ingenuous appeal on my own fea- 
 tures, — " you possess my gratitude— you possess my 
 friendship — and all that you have done and suf- 
 fered on my behalf, necessarily gives you certain 
 claims upon me. Thus I feel— Oh I feel that be 
 who has such claims, exercises as it were a power ; 
 and I entreat that you will wield your power gene- 
 rously — you will use it magnanimously ! And now," 
 I added, anxious to give a turn to the conversation, 
 " tell me how fared it with Colonel Bellew ?" 
 
 " He escaped totally unhurt," responded St. 
 Clair. 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated, with a deep sense of vexa- 
 tion : " it is not a wickedness on my part to express 
 a wish that he whose crime was the origin of the 
 duel, should have borne all the punishment — and 
 that the consequences had smitten him severely, 
 rather than yourself slightly." 
 
 "You know not, Ellen," whispered St. Clair, 
 with a depth of tenderest pathos in his tone, " how 
 sweet, how sweet it is to feel myself the object of 
 your sympathy." 
 
 I gave no reply ; but looked towards the stage. 
 It was difScult — nay, it was impossible to continue 
 a discourse on such a topic, without finding myself 
 every moment compelled to say something whereon 
 St. Clair might put a different interpretation from 
 that which it ought to bear — something to which 
 Lis own glowing mind might attribute a deeper 
 meaning than was intended— something, in short, 
 which afforded him incessant opportunities to ap- 
 proach the theme that I was most anxious to 
 avoid. As for checking him curtly or severely — 
 as for telling him in plain terms that because he 
 had rendered me services he must not take ad- 
 vantage of them, — all this was out of the question. 
 Such representations on my part would have dis- 
 played an infusion of ingratitude and worn the 
 aspect of heartlessness. The reader may therefore 
 suppose that the position was a very awkward and 
 embarrassing as well as a painful one for me. 
 
 I looked towards the stage ; and for some mi- 
 nutes silence prevailed in our box. At length the 
 idea stole in unto my mind that I was now exhibit- 
 ing a coldness and an indifference towards St. Clair 
 which he was very far from deserving, and that I 
 ought not to appear more engrossed with the pro- 
 ceedings of the drama than with the society of one 
 who had perilled his life and was wounded in my 
 cause. I therefore turned towards him with the 
 intention of making some remark which should 
 break the awkward silence, when I perceived that 
 he was standing up close by the door, with his 
 right hand upon the latch, as if about to leave the 
 box. 
 
 " I was only waiting, Miss Percy," he said, with 
 an air of almost reproachful sadness— yet without 
 the slightest tincture of coldness or reserve, — " to 
 take my leave of you : for I perceive that you are 
 80 engrossed in the performances that my presence 
 has become an intrusion." 
 
 The colour mounted to my cheeks, and the tears 
 almost gushed forth from my eyes, as my heart 
 smote me with the idea that this reproach was 
 only too well founded. 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I said, scarcely able to 
 recover my voice, as it were, from the choking 
 power of my feelings,— "you wrong me— indeed 
 you wrong me ! Your words would tax me with 
 ingratitude. God knows I am incapable " 
 
 I I stopped short,— my speech now entirely suf- 
 focated by the emotions that rose up into my 
 very throat; and at the same time the tears 
 which hitherto by a strong effort I had kept back, 
 forced themselves a vent. 
 
 " Grood heaven. Miss Percy ! — Ellen — dear 
 Ellen !" whispered St. Clair, hastily and excitedly, 
 " I would not for worlds have done this ! I was 
 wrong ! — I imagined a coldness where none 
 existed ! Oh, I see, I see that I am not alto- 
 gether indifferent to you ! — and I rejoice at this 
 wound which, severe though it be, has at length 
 given an impulse to your feelings and has pleaded 
 on my behalf more effectually than the most 
 eloquent of my own words ever could have 
 done." 
 
 I knew not how to answer: I was plunged 
 into a perfect maze of bewilderment, perplexity, 
 and confusion. To attempt matter-of-fact ex- 
 planations and methodically to define that I 
 experienced feelings of gratitude and friendship 
 to the very uttermost, but love not in the least,— 
 was impossible ! It would have been to give an 
 immediate justification to the charge of coldness 
 already brought against me. Besides, had not 
 the avowal slipped from St. Clair's tongue that 
 his wound was a serious one ? What did he 
 mean ? Though it was not mortal, yet still it 
 might prove fatal ? Oh, I shuddered at the idea ! 
 There was a man surrounded by all the accessories 
 which render life valuable, incurring the risk of 
 losing that life on my account ! It was impos- 
 sible to meet him with harshness or cruelty— im- 
 possible to cast a damp upon his feelings, — impos- 
 sible to do aught that should savour in the slightest 
 degree of ingratitude on my part. 
 
 I remained silent : but I know that my looks 
 must have been full of confusion and sympathy, 
 bewilderment and compassion, strangely, inde- 
 scribably blended. And St. Clair went on whis- 
 pering in my ear. As I have a soul to be saved, 
 I declare that I comprehended not at the time the 
 full meaning of the words he was thus addressing 
 to me, — in such a mist was my soul enveloped. 
 But that their general sense was in respect to the 
 feelings which he entertained towards me, I had a 
 sort of intuitive knowledge, though vague and 
 dim; and when the performances were over and 
 he handed me into the Normans' carriage, it ap- 
 peared to me as if I were only now for the first 
 time awakening from a hazy dream which for 
 the last half-hour bad enthralled my senses. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was Monday night— the night of the grand 
 ball to be given by Mr. and Mrs. Parks. I had 
 decided upon being present, in consequence of a 
 pressing note received from Mrs. Parks, and ia 
 consequence likewise of the well-meant representa- 
 tions of the Normans that I ought to cultivate 
 the friendship of those wealthy persons who had 
 known me from my childhood, and who appeared 
 so ready and anxious to show me every attcutioa. 
 Juliet— who had nut to attend the theatre on this
 
 ELLEX PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACIEESS, 
 
 particular evening— was most kirrlly zealous in 
 superintending the arrangements of my toilet, 
 
 "This white dress becomes you. admirably, my 
 dear Ellen," she said, as she surveyed me, when 
 my toilet was complete, with as much admiration 
 as if she were a fond sister. " Your figure is per- 
 fect ! — what beautiful flovfing outlines ! Ob, you 
 will make a sensation to-night at this ball— as you 
 are shortly destined to do upon the stage ! That 
 mode of dressing your hair in bands, with braids 
 at the sides, becomes you marvellously. And this 
 camelia in your hair — how exquisitely in its white- 
 ness does it throw out into contrast the raven 
 darkness of that hair ! You have not looked very 
 well for the last three or four days— you have been 
 pale ; but now there is a colour upon your cheeks. 
 Ah ! it is easy to foretell that you will be the star 
 of the evening — you will make a hundred con- 
 quests to-night, Ellen ! — many a heart will go 
 liome filled with your image — many a breast will 
 No. 6.— EI1J.EK Pkecy. 
 
 sigh to-morrow when thinking of you ! Oh ! ynu 
 are exquisitely beautiful, with that smile upon 
 your lips and the pearly teeth peeping between !" 
 
 Vainly did I endeavour to stop Julia Iformaa 
 in the midst of her tirade : it was utterly impos- 
 sible to arrest her volubly uttered but well- meant 
 compliments when once she launched out into such 
 a strain. The Parks's carriage was announced : I 
 entered it — and was driven to their house 
 
 Some fifty or sixty guests were already assem- 
 bled in the superbly furnished drawing-rooms 
 when I was announced ; and Mrs. Parks, who sped 
 forward to receive me, gave me to understand in a 
 hasty whisper, and with a triumphant look, that 
 she expected as many more. 
 
 The saloons certainly looked magnificent, flooded 
 as they were with the lustre shed by the immense 
 crystal chandeliers, — and that lustre taking a 
 roseate tint from the crimson paper of the walls, 
 the draperies, and the furniture-fittings, all of a
 
 42 
 
 EliLEN PEECT; OCE, THE MEM0IE8 OV AW ACTEE8S. 
 
 corresponding hue. Whatsoever was gaudy and 
 inconsistent with good taste in the arrangements 
 of those rooms, as seen by daylight, was now 
 merged in the one absorbing; air of brilliant mag- 
 nificence which made its due impression on the 
 mind. I bad expected to behold amongst the 
 guests a number of that same upstart or parvenu 
 class to which the Parkses themselves belonged; 
 but I was agreeably disappointed. Elegantly 
 dressed ladies and fashionable gentlemen, belong- 
 ing to the higher sphere, were present A first 
 glance however showed me that there was a consi- 
 derable number of foreigners amongst the male 
 guests : but I learnt in the course of the evening 
 that these were attaches and secretaries belonging 
 to the diflferent Embassies to the British Court. 
 I was surprised therefore to find that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Parks possessed so fashionable a range of 
 acquaintances. I had yet to learn that money is 
 in itself an immense power,— a talisman— a load- 
 stone—a magnet of irresistible attraction, — that 
 many a parvenu is visited for the sake of his 
 splendid suppers and choice wines, while he 
 egotistically fancies that the motive is friend- 
 ship towards himself — or, again, that those whose 
 necessities and extravagancies place them at the 
 mercy of the money-lender, are compelled to show 
 the same deference to his invitations as they 
 would display to the "royal commands" of the 
 sovereign. 
 
 The rooms speedily filled ; and Mrs. Parks had 
 whispered in my ear no idle boast when she gave 
 me to understand that she expected at least a hun- 
 dred and twenty or thirty guests. She retained 
 me near her all the earlier part of the evening ; 
 and I was grateful, because I had no lady com- 
 panion to be my chaperon. I knew that St. Clair 
 was to be present : I had seen him every day 
 since the adventures recorded in the preceding 
 chapter : he had told me that Mr. Parks called 
 upon him at bis club, and that Mrs. Parks had 
 sent him an invitation. He had said nothing more 
 to me on the one subject which I was so anxious to 
 avoid : it was only in the presence of the Nor- 
 mans he had seen me— and his demeanour had 
 been that of courteous and friendly respect. 
 
 I was sitting with Mrs. Parks at the extremity 
 of the principal saloon, near the door — and she was 
 just observing that it was time for the dancing 
 to commence — when the footman announced in 
 the usual loud tone, " Lady Lilla Essendine." 
 
 I was immediately struck by a name— or rather 
 a combination of names, which seemed to me as 
 pretty as they were singular— when I was still 
 more deeply impressed by the appearance of the 
 lady herself. She was not more than one or two 
 and twenty, and surpassingly beautiful. She was 
 a blonde of the most perfect description. Her 
 light hair can only be depicted as flaxen mingled 
 with pale amber, but with that rich gloss upon it 
 which generally belongs only to the auburn hue. 
 It was of remarkable luxuriance : but never upon 
 a whiter neck or shoulders did clustering curls or 
 rolling tresses fall. Her complexion was abso- 
 lutely dazzling. Hypei criticism might have pro- 
 nounced her to be too fair, because not even on her 
 cheeks was there the delicate relief of a roseate 
 tinge. And yet she was not of a sickly nor insipid 
 whiteness : the skin had an animation and a polish 
 which almost supplied the place, so to speak, of the 
 
 blushing glow of health. Her eyes were large and 
 of a beautiful blue, — the lashes being of a rich 
 brown — which, as well as the brows, were conse* 
 quently many, many shades darker than the hair. 
 Her lips were of a vivid vermilion : the teeth 
 were like pearls. Her profile was slightly aquiline, 
 but yet not prominently chiselled. 
 
 Tbere was no arching of the neck: it was a 
 straight alabaster column, on which the head sat 
 with dignity, rather than with a graceful bending 
 of its snowy pillar. Still there was no deficiency 
 of elegance in the general efi'ect: it was a 
 statuesque carriage of the head, neck, and bust, 
 which had something queenly in it. The bust 
 itself was superb, — its grand contours being re- 
 vealed by the low ball-dress of richest Honiton 
 lace. She was tall j and her entire symmetry was 
 adjusted to a blending of the proportions of the 
 Hebe and the Sylph. 
 
 Such, at the first glance, was the appearance of 
 Lady Lilla Essendine. Methought she was proud, 
 — proud of her rank and beauty, and perhaps her 
 wealth, — until she spoke to Mrs. Parks, who has- 
 tened forward to receive her. Then nothing could 
 exceed the gracious aflfability with which her lady- 
 ship addressed the lawyer's wite : so that my first 
 impression being suddenly dispelled, I felt the 
 next moment that I already liked her. Mrs. 
 Parks introduced me ; and Lady Lilla Essendine 
 was as cordial and amiable to myself as she had 
 shown herself towards her hostess. Mr. Parks 
 now came forward, and gave his arm to her lady- 
 ship to conduct her to a seat. 
 
 The danc'ug immediately afterwards commenced; 
 
 and Mrs. Parks introduced Count Delia Monti, the 
 
 ! Sardinian Secretary of Legation, to me as a part- 
 
 I ner. Just before the quadrille was finished, I 
 
 1 perceived Captain St. Clair enter the room. His 
 
 I left arm was still in a sling: — indeed, I should 
 
 ! observe that the impression remained upon my 
 
 I mind that he had been much more seriously 
 
 I wounded than be was willing to admit. He 
 
 I was, as usual, elegantly dressed ; and on his en- 
 
 I trance he was immediately surrounded by half-a- 
 
 ' dozen noblemen and gentlemen who did not happen 
 
 to be dancing, and who evidently regarded St. Clair 
 
 as the male star of the evening. 
 
 Lady Lilla Essendine was dancing opposite to 
 I me, her partner being a young English Baronet, 
 I whose name I have forgotten. The moment after 
 I had seen St. Clair enter, I averted my eyes ; and 
 my looks happened to fall upon Lady Lilla. I was 
 I suddenly startled : indeed, for an instant I was so 
 I struck that if I had cried out it would have been 
 no wonder ; for the expression of her countenance 
 actually affrighted me. Pale though she naturally 
 was, as I have already said, she was now ghastly. 
 And yet the very next instant methought it was a 
 mere delusion on my part : for when, after having 
 shudderingly withdrawn my regards, I looked 
 towards her again, she was smilingly making 
 some observation to her partner. I could 
 scarcely believe the evidence of my own senses; 
 for I thought to myself that if I had really 
 beheld upon her countenance that expression 
 — so painfully, so fearfully indicative of some 
 awful inward torture, either mental or physical — 
 wondrous must be the power which she ex- 
 ercised over her own feelings to be enabled so 
 speedily to regain her self-possession. But there
 
 EILEIT PEBCT ; OB, THB UEUOIBS 07 AIT ACIBESS. 
 
 43 
 
 she was, her features all happiness and animatioa 
 again: so that I could not help sayin^ to myself 
 " I was mistaken : it was the light which deceived 
 me !" 
 
 The dance was almost immediately finished ; 
 and after the usual promenade round the saloon, 
 Count Delia Monti conducted me to a seat. When, 
 be left me. Captain St. Clair approached ; and 
 having shaken me by the hand, he sank into the 
 chair which was next to the one in which I was 
 seated. 
 
 " I told you that I should be here, Miss Percy," 
 eaid Captain St. Clair ; " and although feeling 
 very far from well, I would not for the world have 
 missed this opportunity of being in your com- 
 pany." 
 
 I could not help pfazing fixedly upon his coun- 
 tenance as he thus spoke ; and I perceived that he 
 was excessively pale— that he had what might be 
 called a delicate look, as if he had only just left a 
 sick chamber J and then that arm in the sling — Oh! 
 as I caught si^ht of it, a pang shot through my heart 
 ftt the idea that a valuable human life had been 
 risked and might have been lost on my account. I 
 have no doubt that my features must have ex- 
 pressed sympathy, uneasiness, interest, and grati- 
 tude, all blended at the time ; and then I observed 
 that the animatioa of pleasure imparted a slight 
 glow to the previously pale cheeks of St. Clair. 
 
 " But what care I for illn^s— or what care I for 
 the pain resulting from a wound — what care I in- 
 deed for the perils that I have encountered, since 
 it was all for your sake ?" — and the tone in which 
 St. Clair spoke, was full of that deep melodious 
 pathos which he knew so well how to infuse into 
 his language. 
 
 With the scene at the theatre in my memory — 
 and recollecting how confused, bewildered, and 
 overpowered by my feelings I had been on that 
 occasion — I was resolved to do all I possibly could 
 to prevent St. Clair from addressing me in a similar 
 strain on the present occasion. I felt that I had 
 sufficiently sacrificed my own feelings on that other 
 occasion to avoid the imputation of ingratitude — 
 and that I could no longer, even to persevere in 
 avoiding that imputation, permit him to recur to 
 a topic that I could not and dared not seriously en- 
 tertain. Therefore, for the purpose of giving the 
 discourse an immediate turn, I said, " What a re- 
 markably beautiful woman is Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine !" 
 
 "Yea," observed St. Clair, with such a careless- 
 ness of tone and listlessness of manner that I was 
 startled as much with astonishment thereat as at 
 the announcement which his words themselves con- 
 veyed ; " my aunt has always been considered a 
 great beauty." 
 
 " Your aunt ?" and I gaaed upon him in wonder- 
 tnent. 
 
 " Oh, yes— she is my aunt," replied St. Clair. 
 •' I thought perhaps the Parkses might have told 
 you so." 
 
 " I never saw Lady Lilla Essendine before this 
 evening," I responded : " nor did I ever before hear 
 her name mentioned. But is it possible " 
 
 " It is quite possible for L:\dy Lilla Essendine 
 to be my aunt hy marriage," rejoined St. Clair, 
 with a peculiar smile upon his lips, and with that 
 singular expression to which 1 have bofore alluded, 
 transiently sweeping over his countouance. " My 
 
 uncle Sir George Essendine was my mother's 
 brother. He was a General in the army, and a 
 Knight of the Cross and Bath. He was immensely 
 rich— eccentric in his manners, and peculiar in his 
 habits. After having been a widower for many 
 long years, he suddenly took it into his head to 
 marry again. Lady Lilla captivated his fancy; 
 and as she was the portionless daughter of a high- 
 born but poor family — having a title too, you per- 
 ceive, in her own right — it was considered that her 
 patrician rank was a fair set-oif against my uncle's 
 wealth. As to the discrepancies of age, I shall say 
 little or nothing : they speak for themselves, when 
 I tell jou that Lady Lilla was eighteen and Sir 
 George was sixty." 
 
 " Was it possible that she loved him P" I inge- 
 nuously asked. 
 
 " I believe she made him an excellent wife — or 
 at least the world said so :" — but there seemed to 
 be something supercilious, if not absolutely flip- 
 pant in St. Clair's accents. " He paid the debt of 
 nature about a couple of years back : Lady Lilla 
 went abroad — she has only just returned from the 
 Continent — and indeed only just emerged from her 
 widow's weeds." 
 
 " But I have not seen you speak to her," I said : 
 and then I recollected that strange expression which 
 her ladyship's countenance had struck me as wear- 
 ing for an instant when St. Clair entered tha 
 room. 
 
 " Miss Percy," he answered, " there can be no 
 harm in telling you that Lady Lilla detests me. 
 Alt the world knows that we have been at variance 
 ever since my uncle's death ; and the reason is of 
 course palpable enough. Sir George died intes- 
 tate ; and I, as his legal heir, took possession of 
 everything." 
 
 " Then he had made no provision for his wife ?" 
 I observed. 
 
 "None whatsoever," answered St. Clair: "for 
 as I have just told you, he died without a will. 
 Her ladyship expected to inherit everything: but 
 she found herself the heiress to nothing. Now, 
 in the first place you may suppose that I was never 
 very well pleased with a match that might pos- 
 sibly have cut me out of all my uncle's wealth ; 
 and I had all the more reason to complain of it, 
 because he had promised to make me his heir- 
 he had adopted me at my parents' death — he had 
 put me into the Guards — he had brought me up 
 with the idea that I should be wealthy— and thus 
 he had encouraged me in expensive tastes and 
 habits. All those who knew us can testify whether 
 I was a dutiful nephew or not. I gave him no 
 cause for taking a step which might have had the 
 effect of disinheritiog me ; and therefore, as a 
 young man thus situated, I natursrily felt some- 
 what chagrined at the idea of being sacrificed to 
 an o!d man's suddenly formed caprice for a pretty 
 girl. Not that I ever betrayed this displeasure, 
 nor gave vent to my wounded feelings. Oa the 
 contrary, I continued dutiful, respectful, and 
 obedient to my uncle until the very last. But 
 still Lady Lilla was aware of my aversion to the 
 match. It did not even require much exercise of 
 woman's naturally sharp instinct to penetrate that 
 fact: all cifcumstances were calculated to striko 
 her with the conviction that it must be so. And 
 therefore she detested me." 
 
 " This was by no means a good trait in her cha-
 
 racter," I observed : and at the same time I could 
 not help admiring the conduct of Edwin St. Clair 
 in baTing studied to conceal from his late uncle 
 the aversion which he so very naturally entertained 
 for such a match. 
 
 " I do not wish to speak ill against my aunt," 
 continued St. Clair, whose tone and manner had 
 gradually subsided from superciliousness and flip- 
 pancy into seriousness : " indeed I hate saying an 
 unkiud word of any one. Much less, Ellen, would 
 I seek to prejudice you against a lady with whom 
 you may possibly become acquainted " 
 
 " I have already been introduced by Mrs. Parks 
 to Lady Lilla Essendine," I observed; "and I do 
 not hesitate to admit that she impressed me with 
 everything in her favour. She was not exactly 
 condescending — for that would imply that she 
 stooped and unbent in a patronising manner; 
 whereas she was most graciously affable and kindly 
 courteous." 
 
 " Yes — she is polished and well-bred," remarked 
 St. Clair. " But I have not quite made an end 
 of my story. My uncle's death — which occurred 
 suddenly, by the lightning-stroke of apoplexy- 
 raised me all in a moment to the possession of 
 some five-and-twenty thousand a year. Now tell 
 me candidly — was it probable that I should aban- 
 don all my rights to the young wife he had chosen 
 and whom he had left a widow behind him ? The 
 page of the wildest romance never presented such 
 an illustration of self-sacrifice and self-abnegation. 
 It would not have been magnanimous : it would 
 have been simply preposterous. But still I was 
 not altogether selfish ; and whatever the world 
 may think — whatever you likewise may think, 
 Ellen — I give myself credit for some little degree 
 of generosity in the course that I pursued. I 
 offered to make a settlement of three thousand a 
 year on Lady Lilla Essendine. Would you be- 
 lieve it ? she scorned the proposal! And now can 
 you wonder that I have not accosted her in order 
 to pay my respects ? or can you suppose that I 
 entertain any respect at all for one who has given 
 such unmistakable evidences of bo rancorous a 
 hatred against me ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to hear all this," I observed : " for 
 when one has formed a favourable opinion of an- 
 other, one does not like to have that opinion 
 diminished and depreciated. I presume you did 
 not expect to meet Lady Lilla Essendine here to- 
 night ?" 
 
 " To tell you the truth," answered St. Clair, « I 
 was not altogether very much astonished : for Mr. 
 Parks is her solicitor " 
 
 "Indeed!" I exclaimed: and now I compre- 
 prehended wherefore her ladyship should have 
 been so familiar and intimate with Mrs. Parks. 
 
 "I ought to tell you," continued St. Clair, " that 
 although Lady Lilla was portionless when she 
 espoused my uncle, yet that a little while after the 
 marriage her godfather died— some wealthy old 
 gentleman whose name I forget — and who left her 
 fifteen hundred a year in his will. Mr. Parks was 
 one of the executors ; and hence his acquaintance 
 with her ladyship. Of course that money was 
 settled at the time upon herself; and it constitutes 
 the income upon which she lives." 
 
 While Captain St. Clair was giving me these ex- 
 planations, I frequently glanced furtively across the 
 room, in order to observe where Lady Lilla was 
 
 seated, and whether she were paying any attention 
 to us. Not once, however, did I notice that she 
 was looking in our direction: she was surrounded 
 by several ladies and gentlemen, with whom she 
 appeared to be conversing most gaily. 
 
 " You see, Ellen," continued St. Clair, after a 
 brief pause, " that I have entered confidentially and 
 frankly into all these details with you; and there- 
 fore, should your acquaintance with Lady Lilla 
 Essendine grow more intimate— I mean should you 
 meet her beneath this roof and hear her speak to 
 my disparagement — you will not give heed to her 
 vindictive misrepresentations : you will know of 
 what value to estimate them." 
 
 " It is not probable that I shall often meet her 
 ladyship," I responded : " for when once a certain 
 event shall have taken place, it is not likely that 
 one of her ladyship's rank and position will conde- 
 scend to make a friend or companion of me. I 
 begin to understand. Captain St. Clair, what the 
 world thinks of " 
 
 "Ellen, to what do you allude?" he ejaculated} 
 and it was with an air of the most unfeigned as- 
 tonishment that he gazed upon me. 
 
 "Do you not know," I answered, "that this day 
 fortnight I am— to— to — " and I scarcely knew why 
 I hesitated— "to make my debut?" 
 
 " Ellen, what change has come over you ? what 
 does this mean?" asked St. Clair, with a look of the 
 deepest distress. "Tell me — for God's sake tell 
 me, what am I to understand ?" 
 
 It was now my turn to contemplate him with 
 amazement ; but gradually vague suspicions began 
 to flutter in my mind ; and I had a comprehension 
 — though a dim one — of what he meant and of the 
 special subjects to which he was alluding. I grew 
 frightened — and all the more so because his own 
 manner betrayed the evidences of a profound ex* 
 citement. 
 
 "We cannot talk here!" be suddenly said in a 
 voice so altered from its usual tone that it en- 
 hanced my terror. " Come !" and with this curtly 
 added invitation, he abruptly rose from his seat 
 and proffered me his arm. 
 
 I should observe that we had sat somewhat re- 
 tired from the rest of the company -. our discourse 
 had been carried on in a sufficiently low tone to 
 be only audible to ourselves ; and I had no reason 
 for supposing that any one had perceived the ex- 
 citement which both of us had been betraying for 
 the last few instants. I felt the necessity of 
 coming to an immediate explanation with Captain 
 St. Clair ; those vague suspicions to which I have 
 already alluded, made me half comprehend how 
 and when I had committed myself — or rather, I 
 should say, by what circumstance my own conduct 
 had been rendered such as to lead St. Clair hiin- 
 self into error as to my sentiments with regard to 
 him. Anxiou3, therefore, to explain away those 
 impressions, I accepted his arm ; and he led me 
 into the refreshment-room. This was a spacious 
 apartment, with a large table at one extremity, 
 where several neatly attired servant-maids were 
 dispensing lemonade, negus, ices, and other refresh- 
 ments to those guests who required them. St. 
 Clair led me to a seat at the opposite extremity, and 
 as the band in the grand saloon struck up at the 
 moment for another dance, the loungers in the re- 
 freshment-room quickly sped away thither. St. 
 Clair and I therefore remained alone aa it were :
 
 EllEX PEKCT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OV AN ACTEESa. 
 
 for the servant-girls at the other end of the spacious 
 apartment were now busj in the arrangements of 
 the table. 
 
 "Ellen," he said in a low voice, but which was 
 tremulously clear, " is it possible that I could have 
 misunderstood jou, or that jou could have misun- 
 derstood me at the theatre the other night ? for I 
 know you too well to believe for an instant that 
 you would be guilty of a heartless coquetry. In- 
 deed, I would not insult you by such a suspicion!" 
 
 " Yes — there must have been some serious mis- 
 understanding," I answered, quivering with ner- 
 vous agitation : " and. Oh ! Captain St. Clair, I shall 
 be very, very unhappy if through any folly or in- 
 advertence on my part But no !" I suddenly in- 
 terrupted myself, as I regained my presence of 
 mind : " I merit not the reproach of either folly or 
 inadvertence ; and as for coquetry, I am incapable 
 of it. Eut I was so shocked with the idea of that 
 duel the spectacle of your injured arm pro- 
 duced such an effect upon me and there were 
 
 other reasons— other fi elings indeed in a word, 
 
 Captain St. Clair, my brain was in a whirl — I was 
 not the mistress of myself — and as heaven is my 
 witness, I scarcely comprehended all that you said 
 to me at last !" 
 
 " Is this possible, Ellon ?" and St. Clair looked 
 at me with au earnestness as if to penetrate into 
 all the purposes of my soul and fathom its very 
 depths. 
 
 " It is true. Captain St. Clair !" I responded, 
 steadily meeting that gaze for a sufficient time 
 to prove my sincerity — though at length my looks 
 sank beneath it, as the blush of confusion rose up 
 to my cheeks. 
 
 "But one word, Ellen!— one word!" said St. 
 Clair, in a feverish state of the most anxious sus- 
 pense. " Am I an object of indifference to you ?" 
 
 "An object of indifference Captain St. Clair can 
 never be," I replied ; " for he has laid me under 
 too many obligations. Gratitude has engendered 
 friendship " 
 
 "Friendship? O Ellen, that is a cold word!" he 
 interrupted me ; "and after all that I had hoped— 
 all that I had fancied— all that I had believed — it 
 falls like ice upon my heart ! Good heavens, under 
 what a delusion have I been labouring! The other 
 night 1 spoke as delicately and considerately as I 
 could ; for I did not choose to have the appearance 
 of ungenerously availing myself of the little ser- 
 vices I had rendered you, in order to urge my own 
 suit. But you gave me to understand that you 
 would be mine— that you would renounce all idea 
 of going upon the stage — that our engagement 
 for the present was to be kept a secret until the 
 requisite arrangements " 
 
 "Captain St. Clair," I interrupted him, " you 
 know not how ineffable is the pain which your 
 words occasion me ! Alas, I feel that they are in- 
 deed only to true ! I now comprehend it all !— that 
 which was before dim, hazy, and obscure, has be- 
 come light and transparent. I am shocked at 
 the error which has occurred; and though inno- 
 cent Oh ! God knows, that I am innocent of 
 
 any wilful deception or dissimulation ! — yet do I 
 blame myself — I could weep in very anger, vexa- 
 tion, and despair at my own weakness and absence 
 of self-command !" 
 
 " But it is impossible, Ellen, that you can plunge 
 me into such misery!" said St. Clair vehemently; 
 
 — "impossible that you can dash down and break 
 the golden bawl of hope which you yourself placed 
 in my hands! — or that you can all in a momout 
 distinguish the lustre of that ineffable star on whicli 
 my adoring gaze has been fixed ! Say not that you 
 will do it, Ellen I — admit that things have gone too 
 far ! Some days have elapsed since that conversa- 
 tion at the theatre 1 have seen you daily — aud 
 
 if in consequence of the Normans' presence I 
 touched not upon the subject, it was because of that 
 agreement of secresy " 
 
 " Captain St. Clair, listen to me !" I interrupted 
 him : and again I was armed with all my self-pos- 
 session. " Deeply, deeply do I deplore the misunder- 
 standing which has occurred, and which must even 
 tend to place my conduct in a peculiar— aye, al- 
 most indelicate light — unless you in your gene- 
 rosity give me credit for the sincerity of my pre- 
 sent explanations. And pray remember that a 
 sense of gratitude in the first instance induced me 
 to listen the other night to language which other- 
 wise I should have suffered you to perceive was 
 disagreeable. Now at length let every thing bo 
 intelligible ! Pray suffer me to regard you as a 
 friend!— pray continue to honour me with your 
 friendship!— but on the one subject let nothing 
 more be said !" 
 
 St. Clair listened with every appearance of the 
 deepest distress, and infinitely was I pained by the 
 expression which his countenance wore. Then all 
 of a sudden I observed that strange — that peculiar 
 — that almost affrighting look take possession of 
 his features — that look to which I have before 
 alluded, and which it did one harm to behold ! 
 
 "Ellen," he said, clutching me by the wrist so 
 forcibly that for an instant I could have shrieked 
 out with the pain, " tell me, once and for all, is it 
 impossible that you can become mine ?" 
 
 The service he had rendered me in the adventure 
 of Colonel Bellew — the duel he had fought — the 
 wound which he had received — the indisposition 
 which had followed — the sincerity of that love 
 which was proved by the offer of his hand to one 
 so humble, so obscure, so poor as I — and the delu- 
 sion of hope in which my own conduct, though so 
 involuntary and so innocent, had cradled him— all 
 these considerations swept like a whirlwind through 
 my mind; and for an instant the purposes of my 
 soul were utterly giving way — my fortitude was 
 melting into thinnest vapour — my self-possessioa 
 was sinking like a thaw when the sua is up. But 
 the next instant I was again the mistress of myself j 
 my sense of duty became paramount ; and along 
 the vista of distance the countenance of my cousiu 
 Harry appeared to be looking with the saddest 
 expression of reproach upon me, until all in a mo- 
 ment the handsome brown eyes appeared to light 
 up with joy as the resolve grew strong in my own 
 heart. And thus was it that even with emphasis 
 did I find myself nerved to breathe the response to 
 St, Clair's question — and that response was con- 
 veyed in the word, " Impossible ! " 
 
 St. Clair gazed upon me for a few instants with 
 a look the indesribable reproachfulness and anguish 
 of which struck like the sense of a calamity or a 
 crime upon my heart. Then he slowly rose from 
 his seat, and said in a deep, coarcely audible tone, 
 "Farewell, Ellen! farewell for ever !" 
 
 I was petrified with the idea of having perpe- 
 trated some enormous i^-'ratitudo towards one who
 
 46 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 had perilled his life fur me ; and I could not have 
 given utterance to a word even if I had wished to 
 speak. St. Clair moved slowly avay ; and as he 
 reached the door of the apartment he stopped and 
 turned for an instant : then the next moment he 
 disappeared from my view — leaving me still stupe- 
 fied beneath the influence of that last sad and re- 
 proachful look. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 LADY LILLA ESSEIfDINB. 
 
 Foe several minutes I sat as if in the midst of a 
 dream — in a sort of consternation and bewilderment 
 which I cannot possibly explain. But slowly into 
 my mind came the reflection that I had done my 
 duty — that there really was no ingratitude in re- 
 fusing to bestow my hand where I could not give 
 my heart — but that it would be most dishonourable 
 and improper on mv part to wed where I could not 
 love. And again — Oh ! again did imagination de- 
 pict my cousin's handsome brown eyes looking 
 upon me with joyous approval along the vista of 
 distance ! 
 
 Composing my feelings and my countenance as 
 well as I was able, I pissed into the grand saloon 
 for the purpose of seeking tbe companionship of 
 Mrs. Parks. I could not however find her ; and I 
 sat down on a low velvet-covered ottoman, which 
 was ia a sort of nook, inasmuch as the spot was 
 concealed from the general view by the high back 
 of a magnificent chair. There I fell into a profound 
 reverie— thinking of all that had occurred, but 
 more and more satisfied with the course which I 
 had adopted, notwithstanding that I was still 
 deeply pained at the misconception into which St. 
 Clair had fallen— the false hopes it had given him 
 —and the distress occasioned by the destruction of 
 the vision he had built up, 
 
 I had been sitting for several minutes in that 
 spot, which was at first so retired, — when I gra- 
 dually became aware that voices were now speaking 
 near me ; and my ear caught that of Lady Lilla 
 Essendine. 
 
 " Count Delia Monti is evidently enamoured of 
 that beautiful girl with whom he was just now 
 dancing. And no wonder ! for she is certainly the 
 helle of the assemblage." 
 
 These were the words which Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine was uttering at the moment; and immediately 
 afterwards Count Delia ilonti saiJ, in a tone which 
 showed that he was smiling, "Your ladyship 
 fors;et3 that I am married : or else indeed " 
 
 "But where is this charming creature?" in- 
 quired another masculino voice, speaking with a 
 strong foreign accent. " I shall request Mrs. Parks 
 to introduce me, that I may have the pleasure of 
 dancing the next quadrille " 
 
 "I saw her just now in company with Captain 
 St. Clair," replied Lady Lilla. " And between our- 
 selves," she continued, adopting a tone of mys- 
 terious confidenc?, " I am very sorry for it. It 
 strikes me that Captain St. Clair is paying his ad- 
 dresses in that quarter : but Miss Percy has yet to 
 learn his true character ; and as I have conceived 
 a great affection for her, although we have not as 
 yet exchanged more than half-a-dozen words, I 
 shall feel it my duty " 
 
 " Indeed !" interrupted a voice which I recoif. 
 nised to bo Delia Monti's; "I never yet heard 
 anything prejudicial to St. Clair. I have been 
 some years in England, and know him well " 
 
 " Are you ignorant of the fact that there is a 
 relationship between himself and me," asked Lady 
 Lilla ; " and that therefore I may perhaps know 
 something more of him — I mean in his private 
 character ?" 
 
 I can scarcely explain what sentiment it was 
 which inspired me at the moment, — whether it were 
 that I did not choose any longer to be an unseen 
 listener to a discourse which regarded myself — or 
 whether it were that after all St. Clair had told me, 
 I felt indignant at hearing his character thus run 
 down by one who I fancied ought in justice to speak 
 far otherwise of him : but certain it is that I sud- 
 denly rose up from my seat. I thus emerged as it 
 were from behind the back of tbe very chair in 
 which Lady Lilla had seated herself, and whence 
 she was addressing some three or four foreign 
 attaches who had grouped themselves about her. 
 My presence was not instantaneously perceived; 
 and I was beginning to move away from the spot 
 in order to seek another part of the room, when 
 Lady Lilla, catching sight of me, started up 
 and said, " Miss. Percy, where have you been ? 
 You were just now the object of our conversa- 
 tion " 
 
 '• I know it, my lady," I answered : " but I was 
 an unintentional listener :" — and then, full of con- 
 fusion, I was hastening away, when Lady Lilla 
 caught me by the arm. 
 
 " If you listened —if you overheard what we 
 said," she whispered with rapidity, " I owe you 
 some explanations, and I must give them." 
 
 Having thus spoken, she turned for an instant 
 and gracefully inclined her head towards the 
 foreigners, as much as to request that they would 
 excuse her for so abruptly leaving them. 
 
 " Come with me. Miss Percy," she said : " there 
 is a room set apart for the display of some very 
 beautiful prints — we shall perhaps find it unoccupied 
 as the dancing is about to recommence." 
 
 I suffered Lady Lilla Essendine to lead me to 
 that room to which she had alluded ; and, as she 
 had predicted, we found it unoccupied. She closed 
 the door, and was about to address me — when I 
 immediately said, " No explanations are requisite, 
 Lady Lilla ; for I can assure you that there is 
 nothing between myself and Captain St. Clair 
 which renders it needful for me to seek informa- 
 tion concerning him." 
 
 Por a moment her ladyship looked astonished : 
 then a smile of incredulity wavered upon her lips; 
 and as it passed away, she said, '• Perhaps you 
 may not think that I observed you just now: — 
 but I did. You were listening with a more 
 than ordinary attention to what St Clair was 
 saying : you retired with him to the refreshment- 
 room — a glance which I flung in through the door- 
 way, showed me that you were seated there alone 
 with him — alone, with the exception of the ser- 
 vants ; and by the looks and manner of both of 
 you, it was plain to me that your conversation 
 was not that of mere acquaintances. Miss Percy, 
 think not that I am imbued with any unbecoming 
 curiosity : but when I beheld a beautiful and 
 amiable young lady such as you, listening to the 
 insidious language of that man—"
 
 BLIiEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIE3 OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 47 
 
 "Lady Lilla," I interrupted her, somewhat 
 haughtily, or at least coldly, "it. is neither con- 
 sistent with my ideas of propriety nor with the 
 actual state of circumstances, to listen to a dis- 
 course upon Captain St. Clair's character " 
 
 "I understand !" ejaculated her ladyship: and 
 an expression of mingled scorn and hate for an 
 instant appeared upon her countenance— curling 
 her lips or vivid vermilion, and flashing in her eyes 
 of beautiful blue : but as that expression almost 
 immediately passed away, she took my hand, and 
 with the sweetest, most captivating, most winning 
 smile, said, "Permit me, Miss Percy, to be your 
 friend !— permit me to act as such ! I have no j 
 difficulty in comprehending that Captain St. Clair 
 has spoken to you prejudicially of me. Yes— I 
 see by your countenance that it is so ! But he j 
 dares not — no, he dares not " I 
 
 Lady Lilla suddenly stopped short ; and I can ^ 
 scarcely describe the expression which for a mo- | 
 ment swept over her features. It was an expres- i 
 sion of mingled hate and defiance— but with some | 
 other feeling blended, which I could not then un- 
 derstand—a feeling which however seemed to me 
 to be of a deeper and darker quality. I was 
 almost frightened : for again did I remember the ; 
 expression of her countenance when St. Clair first 
 made his appearance ; and it did me harm to think 
 that one so exquisitely beautiful could have her 1 
 features actually distorted by the strong passions 
 that surged up within— and that one, who in her 
 ordinary moments had the face of an angel, could I 
 with those eyes and lips, and those perfect con- ! 
 tours of profile, take the aspect of a fiend. | 
 
 "Miss Percy," she continued, "pardon this! 
 
 emotion: but if you knew all that I know j 
 
 And you must know it ! for I see that St Clair is | 
 weaving his spells around you j and though you ; 
 may as yet have escaped their influence — though I 
 you may be even to a certain extent unconscious 
 that these fascinations are at work to enmesh you ^ 
 —yet be not tco confident ! — and at all events i 
 suffer yourself to be placed upon your guard ! I I 
 declare unto you that my only object is to serve 
 you as a friend !" 
 
 There was something so apparently sincere — 
 something which I believed to be so candidly 
 earnest in Lady Lilla's look and language, that I 
 lost sight of the injunction of St. Clair not to 
 heed what fell from her lips. Besides, 1 must 
 confess that though I considered everything be- 
 tween myself and St. Clair to be utterly at an end, 
 as indeed I wished it to be, — yet the conversation 
 was now assuming a sort of fearful interest. I 
 therefore listened, and lingered in the room. 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," continued Lady Lilla, 
 " conceals beneath that exquisite polish of manner 
 a heart capable of every atrocity. Believe me that 
 it is so ! Perhaps he has told you that I hate him ; 
 perhaps he has said this in order to account for the 
 fact that we spoke not to each other when we acci- 
 dentally met here to-night. But if I detest him it 
 is on account of that wickedness of which he has 
 been guilty, and which has come to my knowledge. 
 Listen, Miss Percy — listen my dear Ellen ! for we 
 must be friends ; and when you come to know mo 
 better you will wonder that even for an instant 
 you could have mistrusted my motives — as I see 
 that you have done." 
 
 " But I assure your ladyship," I interrupted her 
 
 — for it struck me I had no right to give way to the 
 curiosity which had seized upon me—" there is 
 nothing between myself and Captaia St. Clair." 
 
 "Nothing?" she said, again looking at me in- 
 credulously." Oh, then ! there has been P Per- 
 haps you have rejected him! Ah! that tell-tale 
 blush confirms the idea ! My dear Ellen, even 
 though St. Clair should affect to bid you farewell 
 forever, yet rest assured that he will return!— you 
 are too beautiful and too innocent for him to de- 
 sist from the hope of conquest ! Tou must be put 
 upon your guard, for fear lest pardon the ex- 
 pression! for fear lest, I say, you should be* 
 
 come his victim !" 
 
 I shuddered as these words were uttered with 
 the strongest emphasis that the naturally musical 
 voice of Lady Lilla could impart to her language; 
 and that fearful feeling of curiosity which had al- 
 ready seized upon me, now deepened. 
 
 "Yes, his victim! I repeat!" continued Lady 
 
 Lilla; " his victim ! 1 could tell you a tale But 
 
 I will not now ! No 1 would not shock you 
 
 to such an extent ! But still I must tell you 
 enough to convince you of my sincerity, and to 
 prove to you his consciousness of darkest, deepest 
 villany. Should he seek you again — should ho 
 breathe the language of love in your ear — make use 
 of a talisman which will send him in affright and 
 in horror from you. There is that camelia in your 
 hair — — " 
 
 "The camelia?" I ejaculated, astonished at 
 what appeared to be the sudden flying off at a 
 tangent from a subject fearfully serious to one 
 ludicrously frivolous in comparison. 
 
 " Attend to me!" continued Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine, still with a most impressive earnestness. 
 " If St. Clair should again accost you with the 
 language of love this evening, take that camelia 
 from your hair— present it to him suddenly— and 
 demand of him, ' Do you recognise the si/mhol V 
 — Or if at any other time or place he should 
 henceforth accost you, snatch up a flower from the 
 nearest vase if it be in a room — or pluck one, if it 
 be in the garden or the field— and while presenting 
 it put the same question! Oh! you will judge 
 by the effect whether there be not some ghastly 
 meaning attached to it! — a meaning which would 
 shock your soul with the idea of espousing one 
 whom such a sinister mystery enshrouds !" 
 
 I listened with a sort of consternation to this 
 singular language, — a language which appeared to 
 be filled with the wildest horror of a romance. I 
 longed to ask questions— but dared not : there was 
 something in the whole scene which filled the mind 
 with the stupor of awe. 
 
 "No more at present, my dear Ellf n !" said 
 Lady Lilla Essendine. " And remember— it is 
 under the seal of inviolable secresy that I havo 
 been speaking ! Not a syllable of all this to any 
 of your friends ! You have now the power to 
 put St. Clair to the test ; and if he should perse- 
 cute you with his addresses, you have a talisman 
 to make him flee from your presence. Compose 
 your looks— compose your feelings likewise— and 
 let us return to the ball-room." 
 
 Lady Lilla ceased speaking : but she^ lingered 
 in the apartment for a few minutes, in order, no 
 doubt, to afford me leisure to tranquillize myself. 
 I felt the necessity to do so to the utmost of my 
 power : for at any instant other guests might enter
 
 4S 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES8. 
 
 the room where the scene was occurring. I issued 
 forth with her ladyship ; and on returning to the 
 saloon, swept my glances around to ascertain 
 whether Edwin St. Clair was still present. But 
 he was nowhere to be seen ; and I felt relieved, — 
 for Lady Lilla's strange, wild, and I may even say 
 terribly mysterious language had filled me with the 
 deepest misgivings as to her nephew's character. 
 Mrs. Parks accosted her ladyship and mvself, and 
 requested us both to dance, partners being at hand 
 for the purpose. Lilla flung upon me a look to 
 enjoin compliance; and I complied — for I felt as if 
 I were an automaton under the influence of some 
 strange spell which she was enabled to wield over 
 me. The evening passed away without any other 
 incident worthy of mention ; and Mr. Parks's car- 
 riage conveyed mo in safety back to Hunter 
 Street. 
 
 "When, on the following day, I reflected on every- 
 thing that had occurred, I was bewildered what to 
 think. It was true that St. Clair was no object of 
 the heart's interest to me : but still I could not 
 possibly help thinking of him in connexion with 
 the events that had taken place and the strange 
 mysterious language I had heard. Could I believe 
 that he was so wicked as he had been represented ? 
 — or, on the other hand, was I to come to the con- 
 clusion that Lady Lilla's statements emanated from 
 a diabolic malignity ? I knew not how to shape 
 my conjectures : but most sincerely did I hope that 
 1 should see no more of St. Clair — while I was 
 equally resolved to avoid the society of Lady Lilla 
 Essendine. 
 
 In the afternoon of that same day which suc- 
 ceeded the ball, Juliet Norman, on returning from 
 rehearsal, said to me, " Have you heard about our 
 poor friend Melissa ? She is exceedingly ill " 
 
 "111?" I ejaculated, much pained by the intel- 
 ligence. " How long has she been ill— that poor 
 creature !" 
 
 " I only just heard it at the theatre ; and if I had 
 time," continued Juliet, "I would go at once to 
 Bee her : but the dinner-hour is at hand " 
 
 " I will go !" I said ; " my time is at present my 
 own. Where does she live ?" 
 
 Juliet wrote down the address; and she bade me 
 say everything kind to Melissa on her account, as 
 ■well as to convey a promise that she would call 
 upon the invalid on the morrow. I hastened to 
 put on my bonnet and mantle ; and a hackney- 
 coach being summoned, I proceeded to the address 
 indicated on the slip of paper which Juliet had 
 given me. It was rather a poor street, at no very 
 great distance from the Normans' dwelling : and on 
 alighting from the hackney-coach, my summons at 
 the front door of the house was answered by a dirty 
 drab of a servant-of-all-work. 
 
 " Miss Harrison," I said, " iires here— does she 
 not ?" 
 
 "Yes, miss: but she be ill abed," replied the 
 domestic. " Second-floor— front," she added, thus 
 curtly indicating the room to which I was to 
 ascend. 
 
 I mounted a narrow staircase, covered with oil- 
 cloth instead of carpet : and on reaching the door 
 of the front room on the second floor, I knocked 
 gently. Melissa's voice, speaking feebly, bade me 
 enter: and I passed in. The chamber in which I 
 row found myself, was indifferently if not poorly 
 furnished ; and it had a somewhat slovenlj appear 
 
 ance. Garments were scattered upon the floor; 
 and there was a total absence of that neatness which 
 I should have expected to be associated with the 
 dwelling of Melissa Harrison. A number of thea. 
 trical portraits were hung to the walls ; and one or 
 two drawers being half open, afforded glimpses of 
 muslin dresses covered with tinsel. 
 
 Melissa herself lay in bed : her countenance was 
 wan and sickly, with blueish circles round the 
 eyes — so that it seemed as if death's finger had 
 already touched her face. A smile of grateful 
 satisfaction appeared upon her lips as I entered 
 the room ; and the tears starting from her eyes, 
 she exclaimed, " Oh, this is indeed most kind of 
 you !" 
 
 " How long have you been ill, my dear Me- 
 lissa P" Tasked, as I pressed her hand and sat 
 down by the side of the couch. 
 
 " Por several days, Ellen," she responded— 
 " ever since that conversation which you and I 
 had together. It affected me more thau it did 
 you at the time— because you could not enter feel- 
 ingly into its spirit — whereas 1 had all the ex- 
 periences " 
 
 " Ob, I cau assure you it made its impression 
 upon me !" I interrupted her. "But why did you 
 not send to tell the Normans and myself that you 
 were ill ? I)id you not know," I asked, in a voice 
 of gentle reproach, " that we should hasten to sco 
 you ? Here are flowers which I have brought to 
 give the room a cheerful appearance ; and Juliet 
 will come early to-morrow morning, to bring you 
 jellies and other delicacies '' 
 
 " I should have sent to you, Ellen," answered 
 Melissa, with a slight flush now rising upon her 
 previously wan cheeks ; " but — but — my abode is 
 not such as I have any reason to be proud of. 
 The Normans believe I am better lodged ; and I 
 gave you also to understand in the discourse which 
 we had the other day, that pecuniary circumstances 
 had ceased to be the source of any unhappiness on 
 my part " 
 
 " I should have flown to see you, Melissa," I 
 responded, " even if you had lived in a garret ! 
 But now that I am here, pray tell me what I can 
 do for you. Have you a doctor ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Melissa : and then, as the tears 
 trickled down her pale cheeks, she added, " And 
 he says that I am very far from well : he tells me 
 that I shall never be able to go upon the stage 
 again— it would be death to me! O Ellen, I 
 know — I feel that I am in a decline : consumption 
 has seized upon its victim ! I shall perish soon — 
 the grave is yawning to receive me — and I who 
 have so much to live for !" 
 
 The unhappy young woman now burst into a 
 perfect agony of weeping ; and bending over the 
 pillow, I said all I could to console her. 
 
 " Do not give way to these apprehensions," I 
 whispered : " you are young — and the strength of 
 your constitution may assert itself. Ob, yes ! it 
 will— believe me, it will ! You are too much alone 
 — and dark thoughts get possession of you. You 
 ought to have sent for your friends. But now 
 that Juliet and I know you are ill, we will come to 
 you often — we will watch by the side of your couch 
 — we will take our turns in being your companions 
 — we will do all we can to comfort and make you 
 well." 
 
 Melissa took tnj band, and pressed it to her lips.
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 49 
 
 Her tears continuerl to flow forth freely : her bosom 
 heaved with emotions which appeared to be suffo- 
 cating^ her. 
 
 " Tell me, my dear friend," I said, deeply af- 
 fected, " is there anything I can do for your com- 
 fort or solace ? Methinks there is something upon 
 your mind " 
 
 " Ellen," said Melissa, " sit down by my side 
 again— and I will give you my confidence. But 
 to you alone must this tale be told — and to no 
 one else ; for you will afford me your sympathy — 
 a sympathy which I am not sure of receiving from 
 others !" 
 
 " Oh ! from me, Melissa, you shall receive sym- 
 pathy !" I exclaimed ; " and if having told me 
 your tale, whatsoever it may be, you require any 
 service done— if in any way my poor assistance 
 may avail you— rest assured that it shall be ren- 
 dered !" 
 
 Again did Miss Ilarrison press my hand to her 
 Ho, 7.— Ellen Feboy. 
 
 lips with the most fervent gratitude ; and she 
 moistened it with her tears. I saw that though 
 in one sense anxious to make me her confidant^ 
 yet in another she was struggling against somfc 
 different and deeper feeling, as if with the reluot* 
 ance arising from shame. 
 
 " Ellen," she began, as a blush again tinged her 
 cheeks, and heightening into hectic spots, re* 
 mained impressed there like fever's or consump* 
 tion's emblems ; " I spoke to you the other day. 
 of the miseries to which many of my profession 
 are exposed ; and I hinted how these miseries en< 
 hanced the power of temptations. Left an orphan 
 at an age when the care of parents was so neces- 
 sary — Oh, so necessary ! I experienced all those 
 miseries, and became surrounded with all those 
 temptations. Long, long did I endure the former 
 and combat against the latter: bat the first be- 
 came too poignant and the latter too irresistible* 
 i For when poverty, like a gaunt spectre, staret you
 
 60 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTSESS. 
 
 in tne face — when whichever way you turn, it 
 meets your eyes — when you behold it on the right 
 nana and feel it touching you on the left — when 
 it circles about you, hems you in as it were, 
 Dreathes its icy breath upon you by day, and lays 
 its glacial hand on you by night to freeze the very 
 marrow in your bones, — Ob, theti it is that crime 
 itself becomes gilded and resplendent if it only 
 constitute the means of procuring bread! And 
 then too, Ellen," continued Melissa, in a voice 
 that grew ominously low, and with the hectic 
 spots deepening upon her cheeks, — " and tlien too, 
 as the poor girl, driven to desperation, descends 
 from her ice-cold attic into the street, starvatioi;! 
 having wrought up her brain to frenzy — when, I 
 say, she stretches forth her hand in the hope that 
 God may put alms into it, the tempter comes and 
 
 drops gold upon that palm and then Sll is over ! 
 
 The poor child of poverty has become the lost one 
 of crime !" i ■ 
 
 " O Melissa !" t murmured, Bhuddering with 
 an intense horror ; " what dreadful things are 
 these which yoti are telling me !" 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, dea^ friend," said tlie unfortu- 
 nate young woman, " I am shocked at the neces- 
 sity which cotnpels me to reveal all this. But 
 still more am I shocked that to you — so pure, so 
 good, so innocent — such revelations should be 
 made ! Yet bear with me— listen, dearest Ellen ! 
 Sfy tale, though sorrowful, is not long. It is the 
 common history of a woman's fall : the incidents 
 are the same with thousands and thousands and 
 tens of thousands. Yes — I fell : I became the 
 victim, not of my own willing levity — not of my 
 
 own unbridled passions for as there is a heaven 
 
 above us, Ellen, I had the same love of rectitude 
 which renders you brighter even in your virtue 
 than you are in your beauty ! But to die morally, 
 or to die suicidally, — these were the alternativies : 
 and. Oh, my God ! 1 could not lay violent hands upon 
 mysel'i — I could not plunge into the dark stream 
 in search of that pearl. Oblivion, which is said to 
 lie in the ptofundities ot the Lethean waters ! 
 Therefore I die^ the moral death : I severed the 
 golden cord which held me bound to the portals of 
 virtue's temple. Thus I fell, Ellen : I became the 
 mistress of one who vowed that he loved me, and 
 that he would ever treat me with kindness !" 
 
 Melissa's voice sank tremulously until it became 
 absorbed in the sufifocatiou of sobs and tears ; and 
 tor awhile she wept anew. I continued to be pro- 
 foundly affected : my own voice was choked : but 
 in order to express my sympathy, I pressed her 
 hand warmly in my own. 
 
 " Pew were acquainted with my shame," pro- 
 ceeded Melissa j " for it was veritable shame to 
 me, and not a willingly accepted infamy to be 
 paraded with recklessness or with hardihood. 
 Therefore I did my best to conceal my actual 
 position from those who knew me ; and at the 
 theatre it was never suspected. The Normans 
 knew it not : or else I should not have subse- 
 quently been received into their circle. You may 
 perhaps say, Ellen, that I was wrong, while know- 
 ing myself infamous, to intrude where propriety 
 was maintained. But, Oh ! who in this world will 
 proclaim their own guilt ? who will voluntarily 
 tear oiF the mask and expose the hideousness 
 which lies beneath ? No, no ! it is not consistent 
 With human nature ! And if not even to Juliet 
 
 1 Norman would I now confess all that I am reveai- 
 ing unto you, it is because she might feel indig- 
 nant that I, the polluted, have luingled in the 
 sphere of her parents' household. But let me con- 
 tinue my narrative. A child was the issue of that 
 frailty of mine, — a sweet infant girl on whooi I 
 bestowed my own name. My connexion with 
 her father has for some time ceased. The instant 
 I attained a sufficient degree of success to be en- 
 abled to command permanent engagements, with 
 a salary furnishing a competence, I severed neces- 
 sity's iron bond which had hitherto bound me to 
 a career of shame : I severed it — Oh ! far more 
 readily than I had snapped the golden one which 
 at the first bound me to the portals of virtue's 
 temple !" 
 
 Melissa again paused ; and as I bent over her, 
 I kissed her cheek, saying, " Great was the atone- 
 ment jou thus made for the past!" 
 
 "Heaven bless you, Ellen, for that soothing 
 assurance !" exclaimed Melissa, in a tone of in- 
 describable fervour. " My child has been well 
 cared for," she continued ; " and if I live thus 
 poorly in comparison with the salary which I re- 
 ceive, it is because I have done all this for my 
 little Melissa. She is in the care of a worthy 
 couple in the northern suburbs of London, and 
 who have had charge of her from her birth. Oh ! 
 did T not proclaim just now that I had so much to 
 live for ?— and my God ! I am to die ! Wiia all 
 my strivings — with all my economics, t have been 
 unable to save aught beyond a feiv pounds; and 
 tbese, God help me ! are likely to slip away during 
 my illness, if it be prolonged. Ellen, it is the 
 thought of my child that fills mo with anguish, 
 and -that will prevent me from getting well, even 
 if otherwise I could! I have written a letter to 
 the father of that child : I have implored him to 
 do something that by making a certain provision 
 for her will lighten my heart of more than half its 
 cares. I was perplexing myself with the thought 
 of how to ensure the safe conveyance of this letter, 
 and how it might be backed by the personal appeal 
 of some kind and generous friend, — when you, 
 Ellen, made your appearance. It was God who 
 sent you : for I know that you will undertake this 
 task for me !" 
 
 " I will, Melissa— Oh, I will with cheerfulness !" 
 I exclaimed : " and God grant that I may succeed 
 for your sake, and for that of the poor cbild in 
 whom I myself now feel so deeply, deeply in- 
 terested !" 
 
 "Alas, Ellen," proceeded Miss Harrison, "it 
 pains— it grieves me to be compelled to confess 
 that he — the father of my child — is indeed one 
 who may require to be entreated. Much deceived 
 was I in his character " 
 
 " Speak no more upon that point," I inter- 
 rupted Melissa ; for I saw that the subject caused 
 the acutest anguish. "Eest assured I will do all 
 that woman can in the fulfilment of so sacred a 
 mission ! And let me depart at once, so that if I 
 should be fortunate enough to return with good 
 tidings, you may be all the more speedily relieved 
 from a state of suspense." 
 
 Miss Harrison drew from beneath her pillow 
 the letter which she had written ; and as she placed 
 it in my hand, she reiterated her fervid thanks for 
 the part that I was performing towards her. I 
 bade her be of good cheer, and issued forth from
 
 the house. On gaining the street, I looked at the 
 direction of tbe letter, and found that it was ad- 
 dressed to Alfred Peters, Esq., Duke Street, Man- 
 Chester Square. This being at some considerable 
 distance from Melissa's abode, I took a hackney- 
 coach to proceed to my destination. On alighting 
 at the house— which was in a very good street, and 
 in a fashionable quarter of the town — my sum- 
 mons at the front door was answered by a female- 
 servant, who had a somewhat brazen look, and 
 who surveyed me in no very respectful manner. 
 I inquired if Mr. Peters were at home : she an- 
 swered in the aflSrmative, — adding " I suppose you 
 have an invitation or appointment ?" 
 
 Methought there was something flippant, if not 
 altogether insolent, in the servant's speech : and 
 now for the first time it struck me that there 
 might be some impropriety in the mission which 
 I had undertaken on Miss Harrison's behalf. Until 
 this instant such an idea had not occurred to me ; 
 for during the ride my thoughts had been totally 
 absorbed in the tale I had heard, and in the hope 
 of being enabled to benefit one who had sufiFered so 
 deeply. However, I had now gone too far to re- 
 treat, even if such were my wish after the pro- 
 mises I had made Melissa to conduct the matter 
 to the best of my ability. 
 
 "I have neither invitation nor appointment," 
 was the reply I gave to the female-servant's ques- 
 tion ; and summoning all my fortitude to my aid, 
 1 spoke with a calm dignity. " I wish to see Mr. 
 Peters upon a subject of some importance. I have 
 a letter for him, which I should prefer delivering 
 into his own hand." 
 
 " What name shall I announce P" inquired the 
 woman, now contemplating me with a little more 
 respect, but still in a manner as if she were at a 
 loss to make up her mind what to think of me. 
 
 " It is no use to give any name," I answered, 
 "as I am a total stranger to Mr. Peters; and I 
 come solely on behalf of another." 
 
 " Have the kindness to remain here for a mo- 
 ment," said the servant: then after a few instants' 
 hesitation and reflection, she added, " No ! Per- 
 haps, all things considered, it will be better for you 
 to walk up and see the I mean Mr. Peters at 
 once." 
 
 She led the way up a staircase to the first-floor 
 landing — on reaching which the sounds of female 
 voices laughing merrily, met my ears. I con- 
 cluded that Mr. Peters must be a married man ; 
 and now I was again stricken by an unpleasant 
 reflection : for how could I possibly acquit myself 
 of so delicate a mission in the presence of a wife 
 who must no doubt be utterly ignorant of his irre- 
 gular proceedings ? Accordingly, stopping short, 
 I hastily whispered to the servant, " It is not in 
 the presence of bis family that I wish to see Mr. 
 Peters." 
 
 The woman gave a strange subdued laugh, be- 
 tween a chuckle and a giggle — a laugh which I 
 by no means liked; and a species of terror took 
 possession of me. I would have questioned her 
 farther — I would have even made my retreat : but 
 it was too late. She flung open the door of a 
 back room, saying, " Here is a young lady, sir, 
 who wishes to see you." 
 
 I advanced mechanically; and just as I crossed 
 the thresliuld, the first object that struck me was 
 the form of a gentleman disappearing by means 
 
 of a door on the other sid* of the apartment. It 
 was with a sort of rush that he had thus beaten a 
 precipitate retreat ; and the impression instan- 
 taneously conveyed to my mind was that I had 
 thus caught a glimpse of Edwin St. Clair. At the 
 same moment I perceived that there were two 
 females in the room ; and the coarse unlady-like 
 laughter which burst from their lips, completed 
 my utter bewilderment and confusion. A dizzi- 
 ness seized upon my brain — a sudden film came 
 over my sight : it appeared as if I were all in a 
 moment enveloped in a mist ; — and I mechanically 
 handed Melissa's letter to a gentleman who at 
 first had his back turned towards me, but who now 
 rose from the table and suddenly accosted me. 
 An ejaculation burst from his lips : a half-stifled 
 shriek pealed forth from mine : — for I now recog- 
 nised Colonel Bellew ! 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 COtONpi, BEilEW'S H:0TT8H. 
 
 That shriek was produced by a sense of danger s 
 but it was the next moment succeeded by one of 
 mingled disgust, shame, and indignation, at the 
 thought that 1 had been introduced to a scene 
 which it was not fitting for a young maiden to 
 gaze upon. The room was well furnished : there 
 were shelves containing handsomely bound books 
 — there were pictures in splendid frames : and I 
 recollect also that I caught sight of a uniform, aa 
 well as of a sword and pistols. The table was 
 spread for breakfast ; and there were champagne 
 bottles upon it. The two young women who were 
 present, were negligently apparelled ; and their 
 looks were immodest and brazen. The Colonel 
 himself was in a morning negligee— & flowerei silk 
 dressing gown confined at tue waist by means of a 
 rich cord with heavy tassels. At the side of the 
 table nearest to the inner door, was a vacant chair: 
 a half-emptied champagne glass was also at the 
 place which a minute back had been occupied by 
 the individual who took to so precipitous a flight, 
 and who had struck me as being St. Clair. 
 
 " What ? Miss Percy I" exclaimed Colonel Bel- 
 lew. " Is it possible " 
 
 " Sir," I iuterrupted him, now feeling myself 
 nerved by all my courage and sustained by all my 
 feminine dignity, "if tbat letter be intended for 
 yourself, read it : but if I have made a mistake, I 
 beg you to return it to me." 
 
 Having thus spoken, I stepped out upon the 
 landing, from which the female-servant had dis- 
 appeared ; and I placed myself in such a manner 
 as to be hidden from the view of the two brazen 
 girls that were seated at the table. Colonel Bel- 
 lew glanced at the superscription of the letter ; 
 and immediately came forth upon the landing, 
 closing the door after him. He was in no way 
 confused nor embarrassed in my presence : but on 
 the other hand there was nothing ibsolent nor 
 disrespectful in his looks. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Percy," he said ! " this letter is for 
 me— and I know the handwriting. Will you havo 
 the kindness to walk in here ?" 
 
 Thus speaking, he threw open the door of a 
 front drawing-room : a glance showed me that the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNlVERSrPf OF n.L'N<«s
 
 windows looked upon the street, and that one of 
 them was open. There was consequently no 
 danger to be anticipated : for at the slightest offer 
 of insult, a scream from my lips would at once 
 bring succour. As to remaining in the house at 
 all, and in the presence of one from whom I had 
 received such outrageous treatment, on a former 
 occasion, at another place — I must beg the reader 
 to bear ia mind that I considered I had a sacred 
 mission to perform on behalf of one who might be 
 perhaps stretched upon her death-bed — on behalf 
 too of a young child who might speedily be mother* 
 less: and these were paramount considerations 
 with me. 
 
 I therefore entered that room,— Colonel Bellew 
 following me. He politely indicated a chair : but 
 this I declined to accept; and he proceeded to 
 peruse the letter. I glanced at his countenance 
 to ascertain if there were any hope for poor Me- 
 lissa : but I must confess that in my own mind I 
 had little faith in the success of the very unplea- 
 sant mission I had undertaken. It was with a 
 cold calmness— indeed I might almost say with 
 indifference — that the Colonel read the missive ; 
 and then looking at me, he said, " Is she — Melissa 
 I mean— is she so very, very ill ?" 
 
 " She believes herself to be in a decline," I an- 
 swered ; " and the surgeon has prohibited her from 
 ever returning to the stage, even if she should rise 
 from this sick couch on which she is stretched." 
 
 " I will call upon her," said Colonel Bellew : 
 "but in the meantime. Miss Percy, I must of 
 course do something in the matter— —Perhaps 
 vou will suggest " 
 
 "You can well understand, sir," I responded^ 
 " that it must be indeed painful for me to linger 
 here one instant more than is necessary : but if I 
 do so, it is only in the performance of a solemnly 
 undertaken duty. Melissa Harrison is in that 
 feverish and perturbed state of mind to which 
 every moment of suspense brings additional tor- 
 ture, and for which the realization of her last hope 
 would prove the most soothing balm. I beseech 
 you, sir, to allow me to become the bearer of con- 
 solatory intelligence. It is for the mother of your 
 child on whose behalf I am pleading!" 
 
 "Miss Percy," said Colonel Bellew, now speak- 
 ing with a deep seriousness, "you shall find that 
 I am prepared to do all that is needful and proper 
 in this distressing case. Indeed, it is sufficient 
 that you have come to plead on Melissa's be- 
 half " 
 
 " No, sir !" I ejaculated, as a sense of former 
 circumstances vividly inspired me : " I beg you 
 will not put it upon tJiat foundation. You may 
 easily suppose that had I known whom I was des- 
 tined to encounter here, and that the letter ad- 
 dressed to Mr. Peters would bring me into the 
 presence of Colonel Bellew, I should have hesi- 
 tated " 
 
 '•' Well, Miss Percy, let us not refer to the past," 
 interrupted the Colonel. " I can assure you of my 
 readiness to act becomingly in the present instance. 
 You shall return as the bearer of a substantial proof 
 of my sincerity; and in the course of the day I 
 will consult my solicitor, so that we may best de- 
 vise the means of making a provision for the child 
 in case anything should happen to Melissa. Have 
 the goodness to await me here a few instants, 
 while I fetch my cheque-book." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Colonel issued from 
 the room, closing the door after him. Despite my 
 previous misgivings, I had now no longer any 
 \ doubt in his sincerity ; and I could not help think- 
 ing that whatsoever he might be about to do, was 
 not so much on Melissa's account as it was a sort 
 of atonement for his conduct towards myself. 
 
 The room in which I now remained alone was 
 handsomely furnished : it was even characterized 
 by taste and elegance, though nothing indicated 
 that a female genius presided over its appoint- 
 ments. There were vases of flowers upon the 
 tables — but no work-box, — none of those little 
 nick-nacks which indicate the presence of ladies 
 in a house. Nor indeed was this to be wondered 
 at, considering the equivocal company which I had 
 found Colonel Bellew entertaining. Again recurred 
 to my mind the sudden impression made upon it, 
 that it was St. Clair whom I had seen disappearing 
 so abruptly from the other room, as if startled by 
 my presence : but still I could scarcely think that 
 my surmise was correct : for would he now be so 
 intimate with the man with whom he had fought 
 a duel? — would he with all his avowed love for 
 me, court the society of the individual from whose 
 outrageous insolence he had proved my deliverer ? 
 And then, too, St. Clair — that man of elegant 
 taste and polished refinement — in the company of 
 those brazen creatures !— was the idea credible ? If 
 so, then truly everything Lady Lilla Essendine 
 had told me concerning him, must be correct; and 
 happy, happy indeed was I to have escaped the 
 beguilement of the language which flowed from 
 his lips ! 
 
 I was in the midst of these reflections, when 
 the door opened. I looked round — I started as 
 if suddenly galvanized : for it was not Colonel 
 Bellew, but St. Clair himself who now made his 
 appearance ! 
 
 The conviction that everything I had heard to 
 St. Clair's prejudice was only too true, all in a mo- 
 ment became stamped upon my mind ; and my 
 cheeks glowed with indignation at the thought 
 that he dared obtrude himself upon my presence, 
 bringing with him, as it were, the atmosphere of 
 pollution which he had been breathing in the 
 neighbouring apartment. A sense too of some 
 meditated treachery smote me : but my indigna- 
 tion rose above my fears ; and I said, " I perceive, 
 sir, that this is no place for me to linger another 
 moment in !" 
 
 That expression, so peculiar and so sinistar, to 
 which I have already alluded, rose to Edwin St. 
 Clair's countenance, and assumed an aspect more 
 visibly wicked than ever it had taken before. It 
 appeared as if the fiend which lurked within, was 
 now completely throwing off the mass from be- 
 hind which it had hitherto only partially peeped 
 forth. 1 was affrighted : my courage was rapidly 
 ebbing away— and I sprang towards the door. 
 
 "You may go, Miss Percy," said St. Clair, in a 
 tone so scornfully withering and so full of satanic 
 defiance that it instantaneously arrested my steps : 
 " but remember that it will be with a ruined cha- 
 racter and a reputation irreparably destroyed!" 
 
 A shriek went forth from my lips. I felt as if 
 I were in the power of some demon terribly 
 potent to work every species of evil; and I invo- 
 luntarily clasped my hands in an appealing manner 
 as I turned towards him.
 
 ELIEIT PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3. 
 
 53 
 
 "Do not doubt what I tell you," he continued. 
 "You know the man whom jou have met — you 
 
 have seen the company which he keeps " 
 
 " And, Oh ! how ia it possible," I exclaimed, 
 " that I find Captain St. Clair ia such com- 
 pany ?" 
 
 "A man goes everywhere," was his coldly given 
 answer; " and his reputation suffers not. But a 
 woman — Ah ! with her it is very different !" 
 
 The truth of this declaration at once struck me 
 most forcibly ; and. Oh ! how bitterly, bitterly did 
 I repent the zealous haste with which I had un- 
 dertaken Melissa Harrison's errand. 
 
 " Oh, Captain St. Clair," I exclaimed ; " 1 have 
 hitheito given you credit for the most generous 
 feelings — for the loftiest magnanimity ! Do not, 
 do not misjudge me ! Ob, in your own heart you 
 know that I am incapable — ■ — But Ah ! you can 
 satisfy yourself— you may learn what has brought 
 me hither, even if you be not already aware of it !" 
 Melissa Harrison's letter was open on the table, 
 where Colonel Bellow had tossed it down : I 
 snatched it up and handed it to St. Clair. 
 
 " It is unnecessary," he said : " I know full well, 
 Ellen, that you came hither with no evil pur- 
 pose " 
 
 "Oh J" I ejaculated : and I was about to give a 
 wildly fervent expression to my gratitude— when 
 I stopped short : I was transfixed with dismay — 
 the blood was turned to ice in my veins, as I en- 
 countered the deep fiendish wickedness of the look 
 which sprang up to St. Clair's features. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " I know the purity of 
 your motives : but the world will judge far other- 
 wise! Now listen to me. As there's a heaven 
 above us, I have loved you — I still love you as 
 never did man love before ! I hesitate not to 
 avow that though young in years, I am old in the 
 world's pleasures. To all the fascinations and 
 charms of your sex I am no stranger : but never 
 have I encountered one who has made upon my 
 heart the same impression as yourself. Marriage ! 
 I scorned the idea until I learnt to love you. But 
 to you,, Ellen, I offered my hand ; and I swear, as 
 I have a soul to be saved, that I was ready to 
 fulfil my pledge ! But you refused me. I bowed 
 my pride so low as to entreat and implore : and 
 Btill you refused me. Oh! you are the first 
 woman," he exclaimed, with scornful bitterness, 
 " who ever had the power of reducing my heart to 
 despair! Yes— but it was natural; for you were 
 the first of your sex who taught me no longer to 
 deride the romancist's page and the poet's verse in 
 which love is depicted as a deity having sway over 
 every heart. Yes— and you were the first whose 
 beauty cast veritable spells around me, and plunged 
 ma into that roseate dream in which one walks as 
 it were with the senses enthralled but with the 
 eyes open! For you, Ellen, I was prepared to 
 make every sacrifice. I myself already worshipped 
 you ; and as my bride would I have held you up 
 to the worship of the world also ! Ah, and there 
 were moments when I said to myself that the 
 triumphs of oratory which I had as yet achieved 
 when seeking only to gratify a comparatively idle 
 and cold ambition, were as nothing to those which 
 I could accomplish if the meed were to be the ap- 
 proval of your looks and your smiles ! But all 
 these dreams did you ruthlessly destroy — all these 
 hopes and visions did you dash to the ground !" 
 
 St. Clair had gone ou addressing me with im- 
 passioned vehemence; and w'uen he suddenly 
 ceased, he begaa pacing to and fro in an agitated 
 manner. I would fain have checked him : I would 
 have implored his mercy and his forbearance : but 
 I could not ! I was stupefied with affright, as well 
 as enthralled with the indescribably absorbing 
 interest which belonged to his powerful eloquence. 
 There could be no doubt as to his sincarity. It 
 was the heart that was speaking — no matter how 
 bad the heart itself might be — through the medium 
 of that wildly poetic language. 
 
 "Oh, you rejected me!" continued St. Clair: 
 "and you ought not to be astonished if with such 
 a being as I am, love should have turned to hatred. 
 
 But it has not as yet no, as yet it has not! 
 
 Accident has this day given me the present chance : 
 it has furnished me with one last opportunity. 
 Oh! compel me not to speak of coercion— force 
 me not to use the power which your own zealous 
 indiscretion — I mean on Melissa Harrison's behalf 
 — has now given me !" 
 
 "Coercion — power — indiscretion?" I raguely 
 murmured, affrighted at the sense which might be 
 attached to those words. 
 
 "Oh! do you not comprehend my meaning?" 
 exclaimed St. Clair, literally stamping his foot 
 with the vehemence of passion. " I love you so 
 deeply — so desperately, Ellen, that I am prepared 
 to resort to any means to make you mine. Yes — 
 if the Enemy of Mankind were to rise up before 
 me at this instant, and to demand the sacrifice of 
 my own soul as the price which I must pay for the 
 possession of your hand, Ellen, I would pay that 
 price !" 
 
 " Ob, this is dreadful !" I exclaimed, smitten 
 with an awful sense of terror ; and my limbs ap- 
 peared to be giving way under me. 
 
 "Dreadful it may be — but it is not the less 
 true !" replied St. Clair quickly : then advancing 
 to the window, he shut it down. 
 
 " Let me depart !" I exclaimed, affrighted at a 
 scene which appeared to forbode some terrible 
 calamity : for I saw that St. Clair was desperate. 
 
 " Yes — go if you will !" he ejaculated. " By 
 heaven ! not a door shall be closed against you ! 
 But I warn you, Ellen, that if you treat me thus 
 I will have a signal revenge. Have I not just 
 told you that I would sacrifice my very soul for 
 your sake — that I would abandon all my hopes of 
 hereafter for the bliss of the present in making 
 you mine own ? And think yo'u therefore that 
 such a love as this will stand upon mere nice 
 scruples ? Oh, my love is madness — it is frenzy ! 
 — and this hour which is passing is to decide 
 whether it is to prove for my soul a pandemonium 
 or a paradise ! Go :f you will : but my love shall 
 turn to hatred ; and bitter shall be the vengeance 
 it will wreak ! Go, Ellen— refuse to become my 
 bride— and ere the sunset of this day all the town 
 shall know that Ellen Percy came to Colonel Bel- 
 lew's house at a time when he was entertaining 
 two females whose very touch is pollution !" 
 
 " O God, to what have I exposed myself !" and 
 I wrung my hands in despair. 
 
 " Think you not, Ellen," continued my tor- 
 mentor, " that it rends also my heart with agony 
 to behold you thus afflicted ? But what compas- 
 sion have you upon me ? None ! none ! If you 
 are selfish in your indifference, how much more
 
 •elfish must not I be in my love ! Oh, and I am 
 •tilfitiU— and by heaven, I will compel you to be- 
 •umit my bride ! Through the fear of rery shame 
 wll I force you to the altar! — through the dread 
 (A a ruined reputation will I drag forth an assent 
 from your lips !" 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I said, now recovering 
 Homewhat of my hitherto lost presence of mind, 
 • is this the language of one who the other day 
 displayed so noble a chivalry and who perilled his 
 life in my behalf ?— Ah !" 
 
 This ejaculation was wrung from my lips by the 
 circumstance of suddenly perceiving that St. Clair 
 no longer wore a sling; whereas on the night of 
 the ball, the day but one previous, he had still 
 worn it, and appeared to be still suffering deeply. 
 He was now gesticulating with that arm as well 
 as with the other ; and I was smitten with asto> 
 nishment at the fact. 
 
 " I see that you are surprised— and I compre- 
 hend wherefore," he said : and tben he added has- 
 tily, " But my arm is now well— the wound has 
 healed. Let that matter pass ! It is of the pre- 
 sent we have to speak. If I were an obscure, an 
 humble, and a fortuneless individual — having to 
 battle my way with the world— you might hesitate 
 to accept me. But I possess a brilliant position ; 
 and I offer to make you the sharer of it, I have 
 wealth:— it is your's. I shall create for myself a 
 proud and lofty name : — its reflection will shine 
 upon you. To descend to the meanest vanity— a 
 vanity which I however despise — I may affirm that 
 my personal appearance is not disagreeable. As 
 for my intelligence— Oh! if you only knew with 
 what contempt and scorn I look around me upon 
 the average intellect of the world, you would admit 
 that there must be some consciousness of superior 
 power on my part ! Tell me therefore, Ellen 
 Percy, am I unworthy of you ?" 
 
 I could not help listening to this long speech, 
 as well as to the preceding ones. It was a tor- 
 rent of eloquence which overwhelmed me, — elo- 
 quence so impassioned, so vivid, so irresistible, 
 that it enthralled the senses. It had no fascina- 
 tion of pleasure— but that of its own grand and 
 terrific power. Thus was it painful as the effect 
 of a frightful thunder-storm. The strongest feel- 
 ings were embodying themselves in the strongest 
 lano'uage. It was something impossible to cut 
 short by precipitate flight. I felt as if the ocean 
 itself were rolling in around me — fraught with 
 danger— full of menace— but grand, sublime, and 
 terribly awe-inspiring ; so that the feet were 
 riveted to the spot and there was no help but to 
 wait involuntarily to be overwhelmed. 
 
 " Now you understand me, Ellen," continued St, 
 Clair after only a few instants' pause, during which 
 he was enabled to comprehend and measure the 
 effect his words hA=\ produced. "Mine you shall 
 be ! — and though _ 'ifin you by coercion, yet wiU I 
 surround you with affections such as man never 
 before bestowed upon woman. And, Oh ! you 
 know not how much it is that I am now promising : 
 you cannot estimate the full meaning of my words ! 
 Though no title decorates my name, yet no king 
 upon his throne possesses a prouder spirit than 
 Edwin St. Clair! Yes— and this hauteur of mine 
 — not a mere vulgar pride, but the loftiest sublima- 
 tion of which the sentiment is susceptible — all 
 •hall be bowed— *« bowed — at your feet ! Now, 
 
 Ellen, I have said more to you than to any living 
 being did I ever breathe before. But a few wcjks 
 back, if any one had told me — me so coldly cynical 
 in my ideas of the world — me so utterly despising 
 everything that is called sentiment — me who was 
 the veriest infidel in respect to the deity of love, 
 and the estremest sceptic on the score of his wor- 
 ship, — if any one had told me that the day would 
 ever come when I was to address a woman in this 
 strain, I should have deemed the prophecy an in- 
 sult, and should have resented it as such. But that 
 day has come — it is now present — and I, the infidel, 
 am grown the most infatuated believer in the divine 
 worship of love !" 
 
 If in one sense St. Clair's eloquence was a tor- 
 rent to overwhelm, in another sense it was a subtle 
 web wherewith to enmesh all the senses. My brain 
 was bewildered— my head was losing itself in the 
 confusion of my ideas ; and I had a vague numb- 
 ing sense of terror lest by obstinacy or refusal on 
 my own part I should draw down some terrific ven- 
 geance on my head. My powers of speech were 
 paralyzed : I was under the influence of a spell 
 which I could not possibly shake off. But, Oh! 
 rest assured, reader, it was not the spell of love ! 
 
 "Now, Ellen, your decision?" resumed St. 
 Clair : " for I can endure this suspense no longer. 
 Oh ! need I say more ? Be my bride, dearest — 
 and you shall become the idol of my worship ! 
 The proudest heart in Christendom, though beat- 
 ing in the breast of a civilian, shall be humbled 
 in devotion unto you ! I will not insult your in- 
 telligence, nor imply a miserable feminine vanity 
 on your part, by expatiating on the splendours, the 
 luxuries, and the elegances of life with'* which I 
 shall surround you : but this I may say — that all 
 the happiness which wealth can give shall be en- 
 joyed by you! And if you love me not now, let 
 this be no scruple in your way : for as the perfume 
 of one flower blends with that of another, so shall 
 the feelings of our hearts speedily mingle in warm 
 transfusion. Love begets love; and when inchoate 
 in one heart, it fertilises the soil in which the feel- 
 ings are germinating in another. Oh, you will 
 learn to love me, Ellen " 
 
 " Never !" I exclaimed, an extraordinary im- 
 pulse being given to my soul as I became 
 thoroughly myself again ; for goaded to very 
 desperation, I beheld the necessity of bursting by 
 one bold effort the bonds which terrorism, in- 
 timidation, and the power of eloquence had for a 
 period riveted around me. 
 
 " Never P" repeated St, Clair, staggering be- 
 neath \his sudden rebuff at an instant when he 
 had evidently thought his triumph was assured. 
 
 " No, never 1" I ejaculated. " And, oh ! Cap- 
 tain St. Clair, can you not be chivalrous— can you 
 not be magnanimous ? TVill you not promise to 
 forbear from taking any advantage of a power 
 which my visit hither may seem to have given you 
 over me ?" 
 
 " You appeal for mercy to me, Ellen," cried St. 
 Clair bitterly, — "you who will show me not the 
 slightest particle ! Oh, this is intolerable ! it is 
 more than enough to ma1>:e even such a love as 
 mine turn into hatred !" — and never shall I forget 
 how immense was the concentrated wickedness 
 that became expressed in his look at that moment. 
 
 " For God's sake spare me 1" I said, appealing 
 unto him in very agony, " I cannot become your
 
 ELLEN FEECT; OB, THE HEMOIBS OF AS AOTBESB. 
 
 63 
 
 wife, because I love you not ! Oh ! my reputation 
 ia the only fortune I possess. Take it not away 
 from me ! ruin not my good name ! It would be 
 an act that sooner or later you must bitterly, bit- 
 terly repent !" , 
 
 " Ellen, I am merciless !" responded St. Clair, 
 who was fearfully excited : for bis lips were ashy 
 white, and his whole frame was trembling ner- 
 vously. "Swear to become my bride.?" 
 
 " Never !" I gasped. " Any sacrifice sooner !" 
 
 " Then that sacrifice shall you make !" he ex- 
 claimed : and Oh! it was with such vindictive 
 fierceness that he spoke, I even trembled for my 
 life. "Go, Ellen— with the taint of dishonour 
 upon your name— the blight of degradation upon 
 your repute ! Go — and your exit is to be made 
 from a house belonging to the veriest debauchee 
 whose notorious profligacies ever made a private 
 dwelling more infamous than the lowest den of 
 crime ! Go forth, I say — dishonoured, though in- 
 nocent — polluted, though stainless ! Even on the 
 virgin rosebud rests the slime of the snail ; and 
 80 it shall be now with the freshness of thy virgin 
 name !" 
 
 " Oh ! you are a fiend !" I ejaculated, clasping 
 my bands in the anguish of despair. 
 
 "A fiend? Yes— to you!" he cried: and as 
 his eyes appeared to shoot forth fire, while his 
 ashy lips were quivering over his set teeth, he 
 advanced towards me, exclaiming, " By heaven, I 
 have a mind to render you the victim of that 
 very dishonour which my tongue shall proclaim 
 against you !" 
 
 " Wretch !" I cried : and I was on the very 
 point of sending a shriek pealing forth from my 
 lips, when a sudden idea struck me. 
 
 An idea P Oh, it was a recollection ! Strangely 
 absorbing must hitherto have been the whole 
 scene, in its effects of blending terror and elo- 
 quence, enthralling language and frightful menace 
 — language of love and language of hate— Oh ! 
 absorbing must it have been that this recollection 
 did not strike me before. Yet so it was. It was 
 only now in this which appeared to be the moment 
 of my utter emergency, that the remembrance 
 flashed in unto my brain ! 
 
 My eyes fell upon a vase of flowers standing in 
 the centre of a superb table; and as St. Clair came 
 advancing toward me, with looks that too well 
 indicated his readiness for any villany, I snatched 
 forth a large and beautiful white rose — and ex- 
 tending it towards him, exclaimed, " Do you recog- 
 nise the symbol ?" 
 
 Oh ! bad some unseen lightning suddenly 
 pierced through roof and ceiling, or window, or 
 wall, to smite him with its withering influence P — 
 had a spectre from the dead, invisible to my eyes, 
 suddenly sprung up through earth and floor to 
 scare him with its hideous presence P Never, 
 never shall I forget the terrible, the appalling, the 
 stupendous efi'ect which that flower and those 
 words produced upon Edwin St. Clair ! White 
 as a sheet became his countenance : rigid in their 
 strong expression of agony grew his features; 
 and all the suddenly excited emotions of his soul 
 congealed into horror's most terriCc impress upon 
 his face. He staggered back, and sank like one 
 annihilated upon a chair. 
 
 Like Aladdin in the Eastern Tale, I was at 
 fii-et horrified and astounded at the efl'ect produced 
 
 by the talisman placed in my hands : but my feel- 
 ings quickly experienced a revulsion, turning them 
 into a consummate joy at this proof that my enemy 
 was in every way defeated and that I myself was 
 in every sense victorious. 
 
 I issued from the room : methoughfc I heard 
 Edwin St. Clair gasp forth my name, as if to bid 
 me stay : but if it were so, his appeal passed un- 
 heeded. No one was on the landing : my ears 
 caught the sounds of the giggling laughter of the 
 girls in the back room : I hurried down the stair- 
 case, and emerged from the house. 
 
 Entering the hackney-coach, I ordered the 
 driver to take me back to the street where Me- 
 lissa dwelt; and during the route thither it may 
 be easily supposed that I reflected on all that had 
 occurred at the house which I had just left Po- 
 tent indeed had proved the effect of the talisman 
 with which Lady Lilla Essendine had provided 
 me : but of its meaning I remained utterly 
 ignorant. Whatsoever the flower symbolised, was 
 still a perfect mystery to me. I had however no 
 fear that St. Clair would carry into operation his 
 horrible threats: there was no doubt as to the 
 fact that I had by some unknown means reduced 
 him to the most abject position of horror and 
 mental wretchedness. And as I thus reflected, 
 how grateful — how deeply, deeply grateful did I 
 feel towards Lady Lilla Essendine ! 
 
 But now I began to ask myself what course I 
 should pursue in reference to Melissa Harrison ? 
 She had evidently nothing to hope for either her- 
 self or her babe at the hands of the unprincipled 
 Colonel Bellew. This communication must at 
 least be made to her : but still I did not choose 
 to enhance her affliction by giving her any addi- 
 tional proofs of the villany and profligacy of that 
 man ; there was no necessity to make her ac- 
 quainted with my previous knowledge of him, nor 
 to describe the manner in which I had found him 
 passing his forenoon. I therefore made up my 
 mind to deal as succinctly with the afi'air as pos- 
 sible. That she knew him under a feigned name, 
 was evident enough: for if she had been acquainted 
 with his real one, she would no doubt have men- 
 tioned it to me. 
 
 In the midst of my meditations, there were two 
 circumstances which claimed a portion of my 
 attention. In the first place, the house which I 
 had just visited was not the same to which I had 
 been conveyed on the evening of the dinner at Mr. 
 Parks's ; and therefore methought that Colonel 
 Bellew must have two distinct establishments, so 
 that he might all the more conveniently and exten- 
 sively carry on his profligate career. The other 
 circumstance to which I have alluded, was the re- 
 newed intimacy evidently subsisting between Cap- 
 tain St. Clair and the profligate Colonel. I must 
 confess that I began to have suspicions as to 
 whether that intimacy had ever been interrupted, 
 and whether everything I had heard in respect to 
 the duel were a reality or not. On these points, 
 however, I need not now dwell. Suffice it to add 
 that in respect to Captain St. Clair, 1 had seen him 
 with his mask thrown off— I had beheld him in 
 the true fiendishness of his character — I had been 
 compelled to shudder at the revelation of a monster 
 of wickedness hitherto concealed beneath one of 
 the most perfect human shapes. Ah ! no longer 
 did I doubt that all I had learnt from the lips of
 
 56 
 
 EttES' PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIBS 05 AH ACTEE8S. 
 
 Lady Lilla Essendine ia respect to St. Clair's cha- 
 racter was only too true 5 and therefore in propor- 
 tion as he had sunk down to the lowest abyss in 
 my estimation, did her ladyship ascend to the 
 highest pinnacle of my good opinion. 
 
 After 80 terribly exciting a scene, it was no 
 wonder that I looked pale and ill on arriving at 
 Melissa's lodgings. The unfortunate young woman, 
 ■who had been awaiting my return with the most 
 anxious suspense, was at once smitten with the 
 conviction of the failure of my errand as I returned 
 into her presence. 
 
 " God help me !" she murmured, clasping her 
 hands. '• I comprehend it all, Ellen !— your looks 
 proclaim the truth ! You have accomplished no 
 good ?" 
 
 "Melissa," I answered, seating myself by the 
 bedside, " deeply, deeply do I regret that I am un- 
 able to afford you any hope in that quarter — no, 
 not even the slightest ! Ask me not to give you 
 particulars : it were of no avail to recapitulate 
 what has just passed." 
 
 " No, dear Ellen," murmured Melissa, her voice 
 almost choked with her profound sobs ; " I will not 
 ask you to recapitulate that which must have been 
 at least painful— and perhaps insulting to yourself. 
 Oh ! never, never shall I forget this kindness which 
 you have shown me ! But my Grod ! my poor 
 child " 
 
 " Listen, dear Melissa," I said, with difficulty 
 keeping back my tears. " I shall shortly go upon 
 the stage ; and I know not why — but believe me, 
 it is not mere idle vanity when I declare that 
 something tells me that I shall succeed " 
 
 "Oh, it is natural," exclaimed Melissa, "that 
 you should entertain this conviction. How can 
 conscious genius do otherwise than predicate of 
 its own success ? And you will be successful, my 
 Bweet friend! — I am convinced of it! Did I not 
 behold you give your first recitation in the pre- 
 sence of Mr. Richards ? — have I not since heard 
 you frequently, when practising under the tutelage 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Norman " 
 
 " And if I be successful, Melissa," I interrupted 
 her, my cheeks now crimson with the praises 
 she was bestowing upon me — or rather which her 
 language inferred, " it will be a source of still 
 greater happiness for me, inasmuch as I shall be 
 enabled to succour those in whom I feel interested 
 and whom I love. Now, do you not understand 
 me, Melissa ?— and will you not believe me when 
 I promise " 
 
 " Ah, Ellen, I know what you mean !" exclaimed 
 Miss Harrison, throwing her arms around mg 
 neck: "you are an angel— and success must be 
 jour's r* 
 
 CHAPTEB, XH. 
 
 THE DEBUT. 
 
 The day— the memorable day— arrived, on which 
 I was to make my first appearance upon a stage 
 before the public. Thanks to the kind and zealous 
 instructions of Mr. and Mrs. Norman, I had been 
 well schooled in the elementary details of the pro- 
 fession in which I was about to embark ; and 
 having again given a specimen of my acquire- 
 
 ments in the presence of Mr Richards, I re ceivo 
 from that gentleman the promise of an engage- 
 ment, provided my debut should prove successful. 
 My utterance and deportment were admired ; and 
 though I had not as yet altogether conquered that 
 shyness and reserve which were the natural conse- 
 quences of the seclusion in which all the earlier 
 part of my life had been spent, — yet did I feel 
 sufficient confidence in my own courage to pass 
 through the ordeal. Indeed, I had every incen- 
 tive, I longed to eat the bread of independence : 
 I longed to justify the predictions of the excellent 
 family to whom I was so deeply indebted : I longed 
 to win a fame that should render my aunt and 
 my cousin proud of me : I longed to have the 
 command of money, that I might quietly and un- 
 ostentatiously succour such cases as that of Me- 
 lissa Harrison ; and lastly, diffident and retiring 
 as I was in all other respects, I had a certain little 
 ambition of my own — an ambition to shine in a 
 particular sphere. Thus was it that when the 
 memorable day dawned, I hailed it rather with a 
 calm confidence than with any inward misgiving. 
 At the same time, be it understood, I was not 
 vain-glorious, presumptuous, nor conceited : I had 
 a certain consciousness of ability in that which I 
 had undertaken ; and I felt persuaded that if my 
 success should not prove very brilliant, my failure 
 on the other hand would not be very signal. 
 
 I had practised several characters under the 
 tuition of the Normans: — that of Portia in the 
 " Merchant of Venice" — that of Lady Ana in 
 "Richard the Third" — that of the heroine in 
 " Romeo and Juliet " — that of Queen Catherine in 
 " Henry the Eighth "—that of Isabella in " Mea- 
 sure for Measure " — that of Zara in Congreve's 
 " Mourning Bride " — and several others : but after 
 a long discussion, it had been determined that the 
 character of Portia should be the one in which I was 
 to appear. I did not choose to come forth under my 
 own name. I had hitherto managed most success- 
 fully to conceal my pursuits from the knowledge 
 of my aunt and cousin : if I were to fail they need 
 never know that I had attempted a theatrical 
 career ; and if I were to succeed, I resolved that 
 the truth should only be communicated to them 
 when my fame was established. Thus it was 
 under a pseudonym that I was to present myself 
 to the public; and the play -bills announced the 
 first appearance of Miss Trafford. 
 
 It was in the middle of the month of May, 1840 
 — when I was within a couple of months of the 
 attainment of my eighteenth year — that this 
 memorable event in my life took place. The 
 theatre was crowded to excess : for the aristocratic 
 visitors at the Normans' house had made it their 
 business to spread the most favourable predictions 
 relative to myself as the protegee of those worthy 
 people. As a matter of course, my real name 
 was known to a limited circle : but at the earnest 
 entreaty of the Normans so much discretion had 
 been observed that this knowledge was not more 
 widely propagated, Mr. Norman was to appear 
 in the same piece : he was to personate the Duke 
 of Venice : but Mrs. Norman was not included ia 
 the cast of characters. She therefore, together 
 with Juliet, remained with me in my dressing- 
 room, to encourage me before I went upon the 
 stage — to receive and welcome me during tha 
 intervals of my perfomancej and nothing could
 
 ELLEN PBECT; OE, THE ilEMOIES OB AN ACXEE8S. 
 
 57 
 
 
 
 excee'l tho kindness I experienced at the hands of 
 tb/jse excellent friends. 
 
 As the moment approached when, at the com- 
 mencement of the second scene, I was to emerge 
 into the full glare of light and become the focus 
 for nearly three thousand pair of ejes, I felt my 
 heart sink within me : my confidence was rapidly 
 evaporating. But exercising as it were all the 
 moral energy which I possessed— nerving myself 
 with all the courage I could muster up — I entered 
 upon the grand ordeal. I remember that I tot- 
 tered rather than walked upon the stage: and 
 then, as rapturous shouts pealed forth my welcome, 
 and white kerchiefs were waved by fair hands 
 from the boxes, such a dizziness seized upon me 
 that I wonder I did not fall. I was blinded by 
 the glare of light: I could not distinguish the 
 audience individually: I had a confused idea that 
 the whole space upon which I looked was paved 
 with human faces. The thought struck me that 
 So. 8.— EUiBV FSBOZ. 
 
 my failure was already doomed, and that I should 
 not be enabled to give utterance to a single word. 
 My part seemed to be as completely forgotten as if 
 my memory had never taken cognizance of it at alL 
 At length all was silence ; and I had to com- 
 mence. The prompter from his place gave me the 
 key — " By my troth, Nerissa :" — and like a 
 lightning-flash my part came back to my memory. 
 I remember that I ejaculated within myself, 
 "Now I am safe!" — and I began speaking. Still 
 it was in the midst of a species of confusion— 
 with a continued dizziness of the brain, and with 
 an oppressive sense of having as a pigmy under- 
 taken the task of a giantess — that I went on. 
 Although I felt that I was safe so far as my 
 memory was concerned, I experienced no satisfac- 
 tion at the manner I was enacting my part. There 
 was in my brain a continuous sense of sins of 
 commission and sins of omission, — doing some- 
 thing against whioh the ITormaat in their lenooa
 
 6S 
 
 EiiEur peect; oe, the memoies oe aw acteess. 
 
 had warned me, and forgetting other things which 
 I had been entreated to bear in mind. Thus, 
 when the scene was ended, and loud applause 
 followed me as I went off, I attributed it merely 
 to the kindness of the audience; and I expected 
 to behold sadness depicted on the countenances of 
 the Normans, who were at the " wings" to receive 
 me. I hurried to my dressing-room ; and sinking 
 upon a seat, was ready to weep with vexation at 
 what I believed to be the folly— the madness, which 
 had urged me on to the catastrophe of such a 
 failure! 
 
 "You will bo more collected presently, my dear 
 girl," said Mrs. Norman, bending down and kissing 
 my forehead. 
 
 " Now that the first step is taken," said 
 Juliet, in her most gentle tone, " you will be less 
 diffident in the next scene." 
 
 I said nothing : but I thanked my frieuds with 
 my looks. I thought to myself that they were 
 fully aware it was a failure on my part, and they 
 wished to spare my feelings as much as possible. 
 Again I went upon the stage ; and now I became 
 painfully conscious how tremulous were my tones 
 and how diffident was my demeanour. Ae the 
 piec-e progressed, however, I grew more collected : 
 I overcame much of that Weakness and tremulous- 
 ness of utterance that I was previously unable to 
 couquer; and at the conclusion of the ninth Scene 
 of the second Act — after the interview with the 
 Prince of Arragon— Mrs. Norman and Juliet 
 assured me that I had acquitted myself quite as 
 Tvell as could be expected. 
 
 The Trial Scene was toon at hand ; and for this 
 I was apparelled in the usual advocate's garb. 
 Juliet whispered the most flattering compliments 
 in my ears; Mrs. Norman besought me to re- 
 member the various suggestions she had given me 
 relative to the great speech which I should have 
 to address to Shylock. As I thought of the com- 
 mencement of that speech— "The quality of mercy 
 is not strained " — I experienced a suddea thrill 
 which as yet I had not known— a glow of the 
 heart as if I were at length to identify myself 
 with the true spirit and feeling of the part which 
 I had to perform. A sensation of unspeakable 
 happiness diffused itself throughout my frame; 
 and when the instant arrived for me to pass upon 
 the stage, I no longer felt timid. On commenc- 
 ing that great speech, my voice acquired a sudden 
 strength — I forgot the audience — 1 was undaazled 
 by the blaze of light— I beheld only the tribunal 
 —I fancied myself to be Portia ! Tet I was 
 aware of the profound silence which filled the vast 
 theatre, all save in respect to my own voice ; and 
 there was a thrill of pride in my soul at the con- 
 viction that this breathless attention was for the 
 language that was flowing from my lips. The 
 scene progressed ; my spirits rose with it : some- 
 thing within me seemed to say that I was now 
 indeed in the right vein ; and on my exit the vast 
 building rang with applause. 
 
 " My dear Ellen, you have triumphed !" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Norman, folding me in her arms 
 the instsnt I had gained my dressing-room. 
 
 " I knew it all along," said Juliet : " I saw it 
 from the very first. Your opening scene was ad- 
 mirable " 
 
 *0h, this is flattery, my dear friend !" I said : 
 *• for nothing could have been worse !" 
 
 " Good heavens !" cried Juliet, " how you mis- 
 understand yourself ! You were true to nature ! 
 Mr. Richards himself said so." 
 
 " Then nature's self assisted me," I murmured 
 in astonishment, and indeed with more or less in- 
 credulity — for methought that my failure had at 
 first been complete. 
 
 Mrs. Norman and her daughter continued to 
 assure me again and again that all my misgivings 
 were unfounded, and that I had surpassed their 
 expectations. I said but little. In my own 
 mind I fancied that they were greatly exaggerat- 
 ing, but for the kindest of purposes, whatsoever 
 little merit I had displayed ; and I still thought 
 that, except in the Trial Scene, my debut was 
 more than half a failure. 
 
 Tae piece progressed; and when it concluded 
 there was one general and rapturous call for 
 "Miss Trafford !" Mr. Richards led me on : 
 bouquets were showered upon me ; and the plaudits 
 were deafening. I was overwhelmed with a sense 
 of shame, rather than with pride and gratifica- 
 tion ; because I conscientiously felt that I did not 
 deserve all this. On regaining my dressing-room 
 I fainted in the arms of Mrs. Norman. 
 
 As I slowly came back to consciousness, I heard 
 a voice whispering, " It was admirable for a first 
 appearance : but believe me, it is nothing to what 
 she is capable of!" 
 
 " Hush ! she is recovering !" 
 
 The first speaker was the actress who had per- 
 formed the part of Jessica — a very clever, shrewd, 
 and intelligent young lady : the other, who had 
 bidden her be silent, was the actress who had 
 played Nerissa. On being completely restored to 
 consciousnesss, I received the congratulations of 
 these ladies ; and when I had resumed my own 
 apparel, I hastened with Mrs. Norman to the car- 
 riage — for I was anxious to get home. Mr. 
 Bichards however intercepted me on the way, to 
 address me in a similar strain ; and thus I began 
 to think that I had perhaps after all acquitted 
 myself better than my own diffidence and appre- 
 hensions had allowed me to imagine. Thoroughly 
 exhausted, I sought my couch and slept soundly. 
 
 I was awakened in the morning by the entrance 
 of Juliet, who came into my room, her counte- 
 nance beaming with animation, and with several 
 newspapers in her hand. 
 
 "Now perhaps you will believe us, my dear 
 Ellen !" she said, — " which I saw that you would 
 not do last night. Read— read for yourself !" 
 
 " Do they — do they indeed speak well of me ?" 
 I falteringly asked, with feelings of mingled sus- 
 pense and joy. 
 
 " Nay, read, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet ; " and if 
 you have at times blamed me for any little com- 
 pliments which in the truthful spirit of friendship 
 I have bestowed upon you, you will now blush for 
 the next hour to come. There ! I will leave the 
 papers with you." 
 
 The good-hearted Juliet flung the journals upon 
 the bed with looks as full of exultation as if the 
 favourable notices they contained had regarded 
 herself; and she then hurried from the room. It 
 was in one sense with avidity, but in another 
 with trembling hands and fluttering heart, that I 
 caught up the newspapers, and commenced hastily 
 scanning the critiques upon my performance. They 
 all spoke highly of me, declaring that my success
 
 ELLEN PEECY ; OE, THE MEMOIES Of AN ACTEES9. 
 
 69 
 
 was complete, and to my astonishment mistaking 
 the verj diffidence and shyness which in certain 
 parts I had displayed, as a deliberate and purposed 
 adherence to the truthfulness of nature. The re- 
 vievrers were unanimous in the opinion that I had 
 made the part my own — that I had discarded the 
 mannerisms of precedents— and that I had formed 
 an appreciation of Portia's feelings and demeanour 
 different in several instances from that entertained 
 by other actresses. Although I was alone in that 
 chamber, yet did I feel my cheeks glowing as I 
 read such sentences as these : — " To a most ravish- 
 ing personal beauty Miss Traflford joins an elegant 
 deportment and most ladylike manners." — " No- 
 thing can excel the loveliness of this new candi- 
 date for dramatic fame : her face and figure are 
 perfect ; her voice, rich-toned and melodious, is 
 capable of considerable power, and has all the in- 
 flections of the most graceful eloquence." — " The 
 debdt of Miss Trafford is quite an event in the 
 dramatic world; and all who beheld her last night, 
 must admit that a star has at length revealed 
 itself in that sphere where for a long time such 
 brilliant luminaries have been singularly deficient." 
 — " This young lady has all the advantages of great 
 personal beauty, a voice of surpassing melody, and 
 high mental accomplishments. Her success last 
 night, if not actually brilliant, was at least positive 
 and unquestionable ; and we predict that she is 
 destined to acquire the highest fame in the profes- 
 sion which she has chosen." 
 
 The reader must not imagine that I have been 
 impelled by vanity to place these quotations on 
 record : my purpose in thus transferring them to 
 this page, is simply to show how little I under- 
 stood the eflfect of my own performance on the 
 preceding night. And it would be a miserable 
 affectation to deny that I was flattered — I was 
 gratified — I was even rendered exultant by the 
 critical opinions which I thus perused. Need I 
 add that they confirmed me in the resolve to adopt 
 the stage as a profession ? — or need I inform the 
 reader that fervid was the gratitude I expressed 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Norman for the zeal with which 
 they had instructed me in the dramatic art P 
 
 I may now pause to observe that I bad not 
 once seen Edwin St. Clair during the ten days 
 which had elapsed since the memorable occurrence 
 at Colonel Bellew's house. That occurrence I had 
 not mentioned to a soul : I considered it to be 
 something which ought to be kept secret in obe- 
 dience to the injunctions given me by Lady Lilla 
 Essendine, when at Mr. Parks's house she made 
 me aware of the talisman which would serve me 
 in any emergency in which St. Clair's conduct 
 might chance to place me. As for Melissa Har- 
 rison, she continued chained by sickness to her 
 couch. I had regularly visited her every day — 
 frequently accompanied by Juliet ; and on repair- 
 ing to her lodgings on this day which succeeded 
 the evening of my debut, I received from the un- 
 fortunate invalid the most fervid congratulations 
 for my success. 
 
 A week passed — during which I performed three 
 times : namely, on alternate nights. My first ap- 
 pearance was, as the reader is aware, as Portia : on 
 the second occasion I enacted the same character : 
 but on the third I personated the heroine in 
 " Bomeo and Juliet." My success was complete^ 
 Crowded houses — rapturous applause — couutlesg 
 
 bouquets— the congratulations of my friends— the 
 most courteous deference on the part of Mr. 
 Richards — and complimentary reviews in the pub- 
 lic journals, — these were the evidences of my 
 triumphs ; and I could no longer doubt that I had 
 underrated my own merits on the first night of 
 my appearance. Oh ! the threshold of Fame's 
 temple was crossed ! —the ivory portals had ex- 
 panded to admit me into that fane ! It seemed 
 as if all the wildest hopes to which I had ever 
 abandoned myself, were to be realized, and that I 
 was veritably to become a great actress ! But not 
 yet — no, not yet would I communicate the intelli- 
 gence to my aunt and cousin. Still would I per- 
 mit them to repose in the belief that I continued 
 a humble sojourner with kind friends, utilising 
 my little accomplishments to an extent sufficient 
 to avoid being a burden to them — but nothing 
 beyond. It should only be when my fame was 
 fully established — when there could be no doubt 
 as to the general appreciation of my genius— 
 when, by a continuous series of trials, I should 
 have proved that this was no evanesc ^nt flashing 
 of a spirit, but a lasting and durable lustre— Oh ! 
 it should not be until all this was done, that I 
 would reveal my secret to those whom I knew to 
 be so deeply interested in my welfare. Such was 
 my resolve. 
 
 And here I may mention how sweet — Oh ! how 
 sweet it was to receive at the end of the week 
 the first remuneration which my talents had ever 
 earned. With what a mingled glow of pride and 
 satisfaction did I contemplate the gold which was 
 placed in my hand! — and with what fervid feelings 
 of gratitude did I endeavour to force that sum 
 upon Mrs. Norman T But she absolutely refused 
 to receive it ; and it was only when I positively 
 assured her that I could not continue to eat the 
 bread of her unrecompensed bounty that the kind- 
 hearted creature consented to accept a part. 
 
 For the next two or three weeks I played with 
 continued success ; and then there was to be a 
 month's suspension of the performances, for the 
 purpose of decorating and repairing the theatre 
 and making arrangements for a new theatrical 
 campaign. It was now the end of June ; and Mr. 
 Norman proposed that we should pass the month's 
 holiday at a watering-place. But a circumstance 
 occurred to separate me temporarily from my 
 friends, and afford me a different change of scene 
 from that which they enjoyed. 
 
 One afternoon a handsome carriage drove up to 
 the door of the Normans' house in Hunter Street ; 
 and Lady Lilla Essendine sent up her card, with 
 an intimation that she had come to call upon me. 
 She was at once shown up into the drawing-room 
 — whither I hastened to join her ; and we were 
 there alone together. 
 
 " In the first place, my dear Ellen," she said, 
 treating me with as much familiarity and kindness 
 as if we were old fiiends, — "in the first place I 
 must offer my congratulations upon the triumph 
 you have achieved ; and in the second place I 
 must beg you to give me the favour of your society 
 at my little suburban residence, during the month 
 which, as I see by the newspapers, you are now to 
 have at your own disposal." 
 
 Be it recollected, reader, that Lady Lilla had 
 risen as high in my estimation as St. Clair had 
 sunk low down j and therefore I was charmed and
 
 fiO 
 
 EliEN PEHCT; OE, THE JIEM0IE8 OF AW ACTKE3S. 
 
 flattered by her visit, as well as astonished at what 
 appeared to me her graceful condescension in seek- 
 ing the society of an actress. Besides, there was 
 a sweat amiability in her manner — such an un- 
 affected cordiality, as it seemed to me — that I was 
 quite disposed to accept the friendship of Lady 
 LiUa Essendine. Nevertheless, there was one cause 
 for hesitation ; and this I failed not to express when 
 I had pro£fered suitable acknowledgments for her 
 kindness towards me. 
 
 " I have not forgotten, my lady," I said, as I 
 felt a slight colour rising to my cheeks, " that I 
 have adopted a career on which some portion of 
 society is wont to look superciliouslv, if not scorn- 
 fully " 
 
 " Hush, Ellen !" interposed her ladyship, placing 
 her finger upon my lip : "such language as this 
 must not flow from your tongue. Every one who 
 speaks of the talents of Miss Trafford," she con- 
 tinued, with a playfully arch smile as she thus 
 mentioned my pseudonym, " fails not to eulogize 
 her exemplary character also. It is soon known in 
 the theatrical world whether a fair candidate for 
 fame be right-principled or otherwise ; and the re- 
 port spreads accordingly throughout society. You 
 hare nothing to be ashamed of : and rest assured 
 that the highest in the land will not hesitate to 
 caress and court you. Have we not all read how 
 Mrs. Siddons, the instant she grew renowned, be- 
 came the favourite of the aristocracy — and how at 
 the comparatively humble lodging which, through 
 economical motives for her children's sake, she 
 occupied in some street leading out of the Stra/id, 
 carriages with coronets upon their panels ca'.led 
 daily, and titled ladies as well as men of the lof ;iest 
 rank left their cards in compliment to the actrees?" 
 
 I felt pleased at the manner in which Lady Lilla 
 Essendine thus addressed me, and at the delicacy 
 of the language in which she urged me to accept 
 her invitation. 
 
 " You must not fancy," she continued, " that I 
 keep much society. You will meet but very few 
 visitors at my house ; and my only fear is that you 
 may possibly find the time hang heavily upon your 
 hands. Besides, I am not rich : my mode of living 
 is comparatively humble ; and my life has not been 
 Buch a happy one as to leave the first gaiety of 
 youth unimpaired and render me enamoured of 
 the bustle and brilliancy of the fashionable world." 
 
 Lady Lilla Essendine said so many kind things, 
 that I could not possibly refuse her invitation : but 
 still I would not give her an immediate response 
 without consulting Mr. and Mrs, Norman, towards 
 whom I experienced a species of filial affection — 
 nor without speaking to Juliet, whom I loved as 
 well as if she were a sister. Lady Lilla bade me 
 hasten to them at once : and I accordingly pro- 
 ceeded to the parlour where they were seated. I 
 explained the object of her ladyship's visit ; and 
 they bade me by all means cultivate an acquaint- 
 ance which might possibly be useful to me. There 
 was however one thing which struck me as some- 
 what peculiar, and which even for a moment pained 
 me. It was that her ladyship had not asked to be 
 introduced to the Normans ; and though they said 
 nothing upon the subject, they had the good taste 
 ^and perhaps the pride also — not to repair to the 
 drawing-room where she was awaiting my return. 
 
 My preparations for departure were speedily 
 made; but before I left, I wrote a note to Melissa 
 
 Harrison, explaining the reason wherefore I should 
 not be enabled to visit her as regularly as hereto- 
 fore, and enclosing a sum of money. I besought 
 her in most delicate terms to make use of it, and 
 accept it as if from the hands of a sister. My 
 trunk was then conveyed down to Lady Lilla'a 
 carriage : I took an afi'ectionate leave of the Nor- 
 mans — and thus departed with her ladyship. 
 
 "You may possibly think it strange, my dear 
 Ellen," she said as the equipage bore us along 
 through the streets of London, " that I did not 
 request you to present me to your friends: but 
 though all circumstances combine to render m» 
 desirous of having j/our society, it would not be 
 exactly suitable for one in my position to form an 
 extensive acquaintance in a particular sphere. 
 And now tell me— has anything particular occurred 
 since first we met at the house of our mutual 
 friends the Parkses ?" 
 
 I reflected for a few moments; and I thought 
 that inasmuch as it was Lady Lilla herself who 
 had furnished me the means of meeting any 
 emergency in which the conduct of Edwin St. 
 Clair might happen to place me, there was no 
 necessity for maintaining any reserve towards her 
 — but on the other hand, that she had a sort of 
 right to be made acquainted with everything that 
 had happened. Being once disposed to give her 
 my confidence, I did not choose to do it by halves ; 
 and I therefore explained first of all how St. Clair 
 had offered me his hand, and how I had refused 
 him — how I had been carried off in the hackney- 
 coach on the night of Mr. Parks's dinner-party— 
 and how St. Clair had rescued me from the power 
 of Colonel Bellew. But I did not mention a syl- 
 lable in respect to the strange fragment of a letter 
 which I had found in the drawer of the toilet- 
 table on that memorable occasion : for I was afraid 
 lest it might be thought that I was of an unseem- 
 ingly curious and prying disposition. I went on 
 to explain how St. Clair had fought a duel on my 
 behalf: and then I came to the narrative of Me- 
 lissa Harrison's illness (suppressing her name 
 however)— the mission I had undertaken for her — 
 and everything which had occurred at Colonel 
 Bellew's house, — especially the closing scene in 
 which the presentation of a flower had produced 
 such an awfully talismanic effect on Captain 
 St. Clair. 
 
 Her ladyship listened to me with an attention 
 which was alike eager and deep : she spoke not a 
 syllable throughout the narration of my tale : but 
 her countenance, by its varying expression, showed 
 that there were feelings in her own bosom which 
 were profoundly stirred. 
 
 " I am glad that you have told me all this !" 
 she said, when I had finished. " Did I not assure 
 you that Edwin St. Clair was not the man to 
 leave you unmolested ? But I can throw consi- 
 derable light upon some portions of your narra- 
 live, into the full meaning of which you have not 
 as yet penetrated. Ellen," she added, fixing her 
 blue eyes significantly upon me, " you were the 
 dupe of one of the basest stratagems of which 
 St. Clair, with all his refined instinct for mischief, 
 was capable ! But you shall see." 
 
 Her ladyship pulled the check-string; and the 
 carriage stopped. The footman descended, and 
 came to the window for orders. Lady Lilla de- 
 sired that the carriage might be driven along a
 
 particular thoroughfare ; and I now observed that 
 we were in the neighbourhood of the Eegent's 
 Park. The equipage pursued its way ; and Lilla 
 said to me, " Now keep watch, Ellen ! I am 
 about to point out to jou a particular house " 
 "But perhaps I shall not recognise it ?" I ex- 
 claimed, as the thought immediatelj struck me 
 that she was alluding to the scene of that outrage 
 which I had experienced on the night of the 
 dinner at Mr. Parks's. 
 
 " Look well ! — we are approaching it !" she sud- 
 denly cried. " Surely you can recollect " 
 
 "Yes, yes — I do!" I ejaculated, as she pointed 
 out a particular villa-residencfl which the equipage 
 was just approaching. " It is the same !" 
 
 " And that house," continued Lady Lilla Es- 
 scndine, again fixing her large and beautiful blue 
 eyes significantly upon me, — " that house belongs 
 not to Colonel Bellew — but it is a suburban retreat 
 in the possession of Captain St. Clair." 
 
 "Good heavens!" I exclaimed, suddenly bewil- 
 dered what to think. " Is this possible ?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear Ellen!" exclaimed Lady Lilla, 
 " if you cannot read the whole truth of that ad- 
 Tenture, I can read it for you ! Yes — that is St. 
 Clair's house!— and rest assured that Bellew was 
 but the instrument of St. Clair'a deep-laid stra- 
 tagem !" 
 
 " But this is monstrous !" I cried, terribly 
 ahocked. "He had offered me his hand in mar- 
 riage " 
 
 " Yes — no doubt he was infatuated with you ; 
 and by that stratagem he hoped to win you as his 
 wife. Do you not now comprehend it ? It was 
 Bellew who was to have the appearance of carry- 
 ing you off— and St. Clair was to rescue you. The 
 duel was equally a sham : it was to win your sym- 
 pathy. No such hostile encounter ever took 
 place : nor was St. Clair wounded. Gratitude and 
 sympathy— these were the debts you owed him : 
 and he conceived that in such circumstances you 
 could not fail to accept his hand." 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the indigna- 
 tion which seized upon me as I comprehended 
 the truth of all that Lady Lilla was saying. 
 Every circumstance confirmed it. St. Clair had 
 fallen on bis knees to plead his pission at my feet 
 immediately after the pretence of rescuing me 
 from Colonel Bellew : I had subsequently found 
 him 'a visitor at the Colonel's own house; and on 
 that very occasion suspicions had been excited in 
 my mind in respect to the complete truth of the 
 story of the duel. But now even amidst my very 
 indignation did my soul experience a sudden 
 shock, as it struck me that the letter of which I 
 had read a fragment, was not after all addressed to 
 Colonel Bellew, but to St. Clair himself ! Good 
 heavens, in what a frightful shape of wickedness 
 was the whole character of Edwin St. Clair now 
 revealed to my view, — and I who had at one time 
 profferred him my friendship — although I thanked 
 God that I had been saved the deplorable catas- 
 trophe of giving him my love ! 
 
 " And does your ladyship think," I tremulously 
 inquired, " that Mr. and Mrs. Parks could have 
 been in any way accessory to Colonel Belief's 
 stratagem on behalf of Captain St. Clair that 
 night ?" 
 
 Lilla reflected for some moments ; and thee she 
 said impressively, " No ! — it is impossible '." 
 
 There was now a long interval of silence— dur- 
 ing which I meditated profoundly and painfully, 
 yet thankfully, on all the incidents of the recent 
 past upon which so strong a light had just been 
 shed. Yes— painfully did I meditate, as I thought 
 of the diabolic stratagems of which I had been- 
 rendered the object, and of the perils which the 
 fiendish villany of St. Clair had raised up around 
 me like a woven mesh : but I was thankful like- 
 wise at the manner in which I had escaped from 
 that tangled skein of dangerous intricacies. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Lady Lilla," I suddenly ex- 
 claimed, " how deeply, deeply grateful am I to 
 you for having afforded me the means of triumph- 
 ing at last over that wicked and designing man, 
 and reducing him to abject powerlessuess. But 
 if it be not indiscreet, tell me in what constituted 
 the charm which produced such an awful effect ?" 
 
 "The effect, then, was very awful?" said Lady 
 Lilla inquiringly: "and St. Clair was appalled?" 
 
 " Never before did I witness such a scene," I 
 responded, shuddering at the bare recollection 
 " and heaven grant that I may never again behold 
 such a spectacle of ghastly horror as that which 
 Captain St. Clair presented to my view when I 
 took the flower from the vase !" 
 
 Lady Lilla averted her countenance, and looked 
 for some minutes from the carriage-window. 
 During that interval there was again a profound 
 silence; and when she once more turned towards 
 me, she said, " You must not question me, Ellen, 
 relative to the meaning of that charm which 
 wrought such power. Suffice it for you that it 
 served your purpose on the occasion. But I be- 
 seech you to keep the seal of secrecy inviolably 
 upon your lips — as you ere now assured me that 
 you have hitherto done. I told you the other 
 night that during the lifetime of my late husband, 
 St. Clair's uncle, circumstances came to my know- 
 ledge— -But here we are at my humble resi- 
 dence !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 CLAEEMONT VILLA. 
 
 Ladt Lilla Essendinb occupied a beautiful villa 
 in the neighbourhood of St. John's Wood, Re- 
 gent's Park. It was not a spacious dwelling— 
 but it was commodious, and elegantly furnished. 
 Standing back about thirty yards from the road, 
 it had a screen of shrubs along the palings in 
 front, and which shut in a small but well-kept 
 lawn. It had a garden of tolerable dimensions 
 attached; and this was closed in the rear by a 
 small shrubbery. In the summer-time it was a 
 truly charming retreat ; though I fancied that in 
 the winter it must be somewhat lonely and dull. 
 Its situation was completely isolated; and the 
 nearest habitation— also a charming villa — was 
 about two hundred yards distant. Three female 
 and two male servaifts comprised her ladyship's 
 domestic establishment ; and though not possessed 
 of afHuence for a lady of her rank and position, 
 she evidently enjoyed a handsome competency. 
 Indeed, St. Clair had told me that she had an in- 
 come of fifteen hundred a year— which seemed to 
 be true enough, judging of the style in which she
 
 62 
 
 ELIEN PEBCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF Alf ACTEE88. 
 
 lived ; although I now looked with suspicion upon 
 every statement that I had at any time heard 
 from St. Clair's lips. 
 
 Several days passed agreeably enough : for the 
 villa was conveniently situated for the beautiful 
 walks and drives in the neighbourhood. Her 
 ladyship was visited by a few friends, belonging 
 to the patrician grade ; and by them was I treated 
 with the utmost kindness and distinction. 
 
 One day— when I had been about a week at 
 Claremont Villa, as the house was called— an in- 
 cident occurred which troubled me greatly. It 
 was in the forenoon : I had been rambling alone 
 in the garden : but the sultry heat of the sun at 
 length drove me indoors. Lady Lilla was writing 
 at her desk in the parlour which we habitually 
 used. Almost immediately after I thus entered 
 that parlour, she was summoned from the room ; 
 and I approached the table to take thence a book 
 which I was in the course of reading. Two or 
 three notes, which Lady Lilla had written, lay 
 upon the very book that I required ; and as I re- 
 moved these billets, I was struck by the writing of 
 the addresses. It was the first time I had seen 
 her ladyship's handwriting; and I experienced a 
 shock more powerful than I can possibly describe : 
 for it struck me all in a moment that it was the 
 very same handwriting as that which I had seen 
 in the fragment of the letter at St. Clair's house. 
 A dizziness came over my sight, as all the contents 
 of that fragment rushed back to my recollection. 
 Good heavens ! was it possible that Lady Lilla 
 herself could have been the victim who had ad- 
 dressed the author of her ruin in language so har- 
 rowing, so horrible, eo anguished, so despairing, 
 as that vhich I had read in the fragment alluded 
 to? 
 
 Passing my hand across my eyes to dispel the 
 film which had settled upon them, I looked again 
 at the superscriptions of these notes. Yes — it 
 seemed to me the same beautiful handwriting ; 
 though that of the fragment I remembered to have 
 been tremulous, and that of these billets was firm 
 in its feminine delicacy and perfect fluency. I 
 heard footsteps approaching the door ; and rapidly 
 retreating to the sofa, I sat down as if I had been 
 all along occupying it since my entrance into the 
 parlour. It was however with the utmost difficulty 
 that I could compose my looks; while, as to my 
 feelings, they were cruelly harrowed and tortured. 
 Lady Lilla began to converse with me ; and as I 
 listened to the soft music of her voice, so calm and 
 so collected — as I contemplated her countenance, 
 so surpassingly beautiful— as I thought of her age, 
 which could not exceed two-and-twenty — I said 
 within myself, " Is it possible that this being of 
 transcending loveliness could ever have known 
 such stupendous anguish— such ineffable remorse 
 as the fragment of the letter seemed to indicate ? 
 Could she who has the countenance and shape of 
 an angel, have ever penned language denoting the 
 consciousness of crime ?" 
 
 It appeared to me as if I were in the midst of 
 a horrible dream ; and availing myself of a pause in 
 the conversation, I rose and issued from the room. 
 Flinging on my large garden-hat, which I had 
 left upon the hall-table, I went forth again into 
 the grounds. It seemed as if I must absolutely 
 court solitude in order to commune with myself : 
 it seemed likewise as if there were something which 
 
 I ought to do, but which I know not rightly how 
 to accomplish. Should I speak to Lady Lilla 
 Essendine ? — should I tell her of the circumstance 
 of having read the fragment at St. Clair's house, 
 and beseech her, in the name of the friendship she 
 professed for me, to clear up the horrible mystery 
 which now appeared to hang round herself? Or 
 should I devise some pretext for leaving her abode 
 and rejoining my friends, the Normans ? I was 
 bewildered how to act. I did not like to address 
 her ladyship on the subject, for fear lest there 
 should be some terrible mistake on my part : and 
 yet, on the other hand, I felt shocked at the notion 
 of continuing to be the guest and friend of o^. 
 who, if my suspicion were well founded, had put 
 upon record such frightful self-accusings. 
 
 Utterly unable to make up my mind how to act, 
 I wandered into the shrubbery. The back gate 
 stood open ; for a gardener was at work on the 
 premises : and I issued forth. A lane skirted the 
 boundary-walk : and along this I slowly proceeded 
 — my soul a prey to the most painful feelings. Was 
 it not natural for me to entertain the suspicion 
 that Lady Lilla Essendine had been rendered the 
 victim of St. Clair's guile, and that the letter of 
 which I had seen a fragment was written by her 
 under the influence of poignant and excruciating 
 remorse for her infidelity towards the husband who 
 perhaps doted upon her ? And yet what if I were 
 after all mistaken? — what if a mere coincidental 
 resemblance between one handwriting and another 
 had deceived me ? And amongst ladies of superior 
 education, was there not often a striking identity 
 of styles of penmanship ? Oh ! if I were labour- 
 ing under an error, how cruel and how unpardon- 
 able an insult would it be to Lady Lilla Essendine 
 to breathe a syllable which savoured of a suspicion 
 or an aspersion ! 
 
 While I was thus reflecting in bewilderment 
 and uncertainty, a turning in the lane suddenly 
 brought me into the presence of two singular- 
 looking women, whom I at once knew to be of the 
 gipsy race. One was an old crone, with wrinkled 
 countenance and bowed form — but with dark eyes 
 that had lost little of their youthful fire, and were 
 peculiarly keen and piercing. Her look was not 
 merely cunning, but had something sinister in it, 
 which was still more repelling when she began 
 smirking and smiling as she caught sight of me. 
 Her companion was a much younger woman— in- 
 deed apparently not more than about four -and- 
 twenty. She possessed a very fine person, and 
 though her features were coarse and large, they 
 were by no means unhandsome. Her feet were 
 naked; and her lower limbs — a considerable por- 
 tion of which the short skirt of her dress left ex- 
 posed — were singularly symmetrical in their ro- 
 bustness. She was stout and upon a large scale, 
 but well-proportioned. Methought that she would 
 have made an admirable model for a sculptor de- 
 lineating with his marble the feminine form in 
 Amazonian proportions. Her hair, dark as jet, 
 and without the slightest gloss upon it, hung upon 
 her shoulders: her eyes, of deepest blackness, were 
 large and brilliantly lustrous : her lips, which were 
 full even to coarseness, but of the brightest cherry 
 hue, revealed a set of teeth that might be com- 
 pared to ivory. She was leaning against a tree ; 
 and her look was bold and full of hardihood, 
 though by no means insolent as she g'-jized upon me.
 
 BtLBN PBBCT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OE AN ACTEES8. 
 
 63 
 
 I had come upon this couple so suddenly, and 
 was by their presence so abruptly startled from 
 the meditations in which I was previously plunged, 
 that I stopped short ; and the old crone at once 
 accosted me. She began to address me in the 
 manner usually adopted by people of her race — 
 complimenting me upon my beauty — talking some 
 jargon about a handsome lover — and desiring me 
 to cross her palm with silver that she might tell 
 me my fortune. Her swarthy countenance was all 
 puckered up with wrinkles as she smiled and 
 smirked while giving utterance to her habitual 
 cant ; and great was the contrast between that 
 shrivelled sinister face, and the round plump 
 countenance of the younger gipsy, through the 
 duskiness of whose complexion the warm blood 
 mantled richly. 
 
 " Stay, pretty lady," said the old crone, " while 
 I develop the future to your view. 1 see at a 
 glance that this fair white hand is crossed by many 
 lines. Suffer me to read them." 
 
 I had no gloves on ; for I had left the house 
 hurriedly, and without any intention of issuing 
 outside the garden wall. I was in 'a morning 
 desAahillde too; and as I have already said, had 
 on a large straw hat. The old gipsy had taken 
 my hand ; and I scarcely know in what singular 
 mood it was that I for a few moments abandoned 
 it to her. But my feelings were at the time ren^ 
 dered morbid by the thoughts that had been 
 agitating in my brain ; and when the mind is in 
 this state it is apt to be more or less tinctured with 
 superstition, or a tendency towards the marvel- 
 lous. ^ 
 
 " I see," continued the old gipsy, peering over 
 my palm, " that there is a tall, handsome youth, 
 not very much olSe* than yourself — with dark 
 hair and eyes— slender and graceful shape — and 
 the most winning manners — whose heart is filled 
 with your image. Yes !" she proceeded, suddenly 
 looking up into my countenance : " and upon your 
 heart, pretty maiden, is his image impressed !" 
 
 Here I suddenly withdrew my hand, while I 
 felt the blushes glowing upon my cheeks. I was 
 about to hurry onward, when the crone exclaimed, 
 "You have forgotten to cross my hand with 
 •ilvet !" 
 
 I was excessively annoyed with myself that I 
 should have yielded even for a few moments to 
 the influence which had led me to abandon my 
 hand to the old woman : but I felt that having 
 done so, I ought to give her a reward. Full of 
 the confusion occasioned by my own vexed feel- 
 ings, I thrust my hand into my pocket : my purse 
 was not there. 
 
 " Stop," I said, " and I will hasten and fetch 
 you something. I have left my money indoors." 
 
 " One moment, sweet maiden !" ejaculated the 
 old crone ; " and if you will render me a little ser- 
 vice, you need not trouble yourself to confer any 
 additional recompense upon me." 
 
 "Nonsense, grandmother!" said the younger 
 gipsy, now accosting the crone and catching her 
 somewhat roughly by the arm. '• How do you 
 know who this young lady is ?" 
 
 "Tell me, my sweet maiden," said the dame, 
 still addressing herself to me, apparently heedless 
 of her granddaughter's interruption ; " did I not 
 ere now behold you walking in the garden at- 
 tached to this nearest villa P Methought that as 
 
 I passed the front gate I caught a glimpse of that 
 beautiful form of your's " 
 
 " Enough of this idle flattery 1" I interrupted 
 her. "Yes— it is true I was walking in that 
 garden. But what can you possibly mean by che 
 intimation that I may render you a service ?" 
 
 "You shall see," rejoined the crone; "for you 
 are an amiable young lady— and you will not, as 
 insolent menials would, disdain the old gipsy's 
 supplication." 
 
 " Be careful, grandmother !" the younger female 
 hurriedly whispered: but my ear caught what sho 
 said. 
 
 " Be quiet, Zarah !" interjected the crone, as 
 she turned impatiently towards her granddaughter. 
 " I know what I am doing ; and this pretty maiden 
 will accomplish the trifling little service that I ask 
 at her hands. Will you not, Miss ?" 
 
 " I will fetch you some trifle," I said, anxious 
 to put an end to this scene in which I had in- 
 volved myself: " but as for my ability to render 
 you any real service, it is impossible — and you 
 can only be indulging in that language of mys- 
 terious absurdity which forms a portion of your 
 craft." 
 
 " It is not so, sweet maiden," rejoined the gipsy 
 crone. " There is something in your countenance 
 so amiable and good-natured, it tells me you will 
 do my bidding ! And the boon I crave is so 
 simple ! It is only that you will tell the lady of 
 the house that one who knows her, seeks a few 
 minutes' interview on this very spot." 
 
 " This is absurd!" I ejaculated. " Her ladyship 
 would not come to you— neither would I trifle so 
 insultingly with her as to bear such a message." 
 
 "Judge not too hastily, young maiden," an- 
 swered the gipsy: "did I not ere now speak 
 words which made a chord vibrate in your heart ? 
 — and think you not, therefore, that I who know 
 so many things and so many persons, may have 
 an interest in obtaining speech of the lovely lady 
 of that house in which you reside ? I tell you that 
 the lady will come if you present this to her as a 
 token of my sincerity in requiring her presence." 
 
 Thus speaking, the old gipsy plucked a large 
 and beautiful blooming white rose which grew 
 wild amidst the odoriferous briers in the bushes 
 hard by. I mechanically took the flower from her 
 hand, — gazing on her the while with the most be- 
 wildered astonishment. And well might I be thus 
 surprised ! — well too might that wonderment be 
 mingled with a sort of dismay ! — for it suddenly 
 seemed as if the same species of talisman which 
 had proved so effectual in reducing St. Clair to 
 abject powerlessness, was now to prove the means 
 of bringing forth Lady Lilla Essendine in obe- 
 dience to the summons of this miserable wrinkled 
 old gipsy. 
 
 " Do not ask me any questions, sweet maiden," 
 she continued, observing my astonishment, al- 
 though doubtless very far from suspecting the 
 cause. " It is no idle mummery on my part ; and 
 I repeat, it is so simple a boon I crave, that you 
 cannot in your amiable generosity refuse to grant 
 it. I might have just now addressed myself to 
 the old gardener whom I saw at work in the 
 grounds of the villa : but he looked a churl — and 
 he would only have had threats of the constable, 
 the magistrate, and the House of Correction for 
 the poor gipsy."
 
 EILEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AK ACTEESa, 
 
 " I will do your bidding," I said : and I hastened 
 away from the spot. 
 
 I had given this answer on the impulse of the 
 moment : but as I reached the garden gate, I re- 
 pented the haste with which I had acceded to the 
 old gipsy's demand. My first thought was to put 
 Lady Lilla to the test, and see whether the pre- 
 sentation of a flower would have upon her any 
 effect similar to that which it produced on Edwin 
 St. Clair. If so, I fancied that it must lead to ex- 
 planations : she could not leave me any longer in 
 the dark upon the subject ; and I should have an 
 opportunity of mentioning the other topic which 
 was equally prominent in my thoughts : namely, 
 that which related to the fragment of the letter. 
 But as I was returning for this purpose, the 
 thought stole into my brain that if this were a 
 mere silly trick on the old crone's part, it would 
 really be insulting to Lady Lilla Essendine to de- 
 liver her such a message. 
 
 I re-entered the garden slowly, still irresolute 
 how to act : but scarcely had I threaded the shrub- 
 bery, when I met her ladyship. 
 
 " I was seeking you, my dear Ellen," she said. 
 " I have finished my letters — my time is now at 
 
 your disposal But you have a beautiful flower 
 
 there ?— and it is a wild one too !" 
 
 "Yes," I answered, hesitatingly and in con- 
 fusion ; " it was given to me by an old gipsy :" — 
 and I scarcely knew what I was saying. 
 
 " An old gipsy P" ejaculated Lady Lilla : and it 
 was with so sudden a start that she spoke, I felt 
 convinced in a moment there was indeed something 
 in the message of which I was the bearer. 
 
 " Yes," I responded, now determined to deliver 
 that message, " she is in the lane, just at the turn- 
 ing ; and — and — she beseeches a few minutes' in- 
 terview with your ladyship." 
 
 Lady Lilla's countenance, naturally pale, grew 
 all in an instant absolutely ghastly. That ani- 
 mation and polish which, as I have before said, 
 seemed to supply the place of the blushing glow 
 of health, fled from her cheeks, which became of a 
 dull, deadly white. Her lips too turned ashy ; and 
 for a moment methought she staggered as if 
 stricken a blow. 
 
 "And that flower, Ellen?" she said, or rather 
 gasped forth, 
 
 "The old gipsy bade me present it to your 
 ladyship," I answered, "as a token " 
 
 " Oh ! how silly and foolish this is !" exclaimed 
 Lilla, visibly exerting an almost preterhuman 
 power to regain her self-possession j while she en- 
 deavoured to smile away the whole proceeding, as 
 if it were but a trifle and a jest — though that at- 
 tempt at smiling was of sickly ghastliness. " You 
 will begin to fancy," she continued, " that there 
 
 is a subtle magic in flowers But I will indulge 
 
 the crone — I will see to what extent she has the 
 impudence to carry her mirth ! Await my return 
 in the garden." 
 
 Thus speaking, Lady Lilla Essendine hurried 
 away from me, and was at once lost to my view in 
 the mazes of the shrubbery. I remained riveted 
 to the spot : a sensation crept over me as if I were 
 becoming unwillingly yet irresistibly involved in 
 some dark unhallowed mysteries. The misgivings 
 which had been previously agitating in my mind 
 in respect to her ladyship, were strengthened : and 
 1 felt as if I were afraid of her. What could it 
 
 all mean ? — what deep mystic power did the simplo 
 presentation of a rose convey ? — and was she sub- 
 ject to precisely the same influence as that which 
 had shed its spell in so appalling a manner upon 
 Edwin St. Clair ? I felt dispirited and unhappy i 
 I wished that I had never accepted Lady Lilla'i 
 invitation— but that I had accompanied the Nor- 
 mans to the seaside, where I knew them to be en- 
 joying themselves; for I had received a letter from 
 Juliet that very mojning. 
 
 I moved slowly away from the spot : I walked 
 through the garden— I wondered what at that 
 moment was progressing between the old witch 
 and her ladyship. I was not however long left 
 alone ; for in a few minutes I heard light footsteps 
 approaching from behind : I turned and beheld 
 Lady Lilla advancing along the gravel-walk. 
 Smiles were upon her countenance : she accosted 
 me gaily, exclaiming, " That old gipsy wanted to 
 tell my fortune ! Of course I disposed of her 
 quickly. — But how pensive and sad you look, my 
 dear Ellen! Surely the crone did not dare pre- 
 sage evil in respect to yourself?" 
 
 "No, my'lady— no," I answered. " But do you 
 not feel — does it not strike you— that it must 
 seem to me most remarkable- ■" 
 
 " Ah, my dear friend, 1 underatand you !" cried 
 Lilla. "You are abandoning yourself to the im- 
 pressions of coincidences! Why, you cannot 
 seriously imagine that there's any connexion be- 
 tween the means I placed in your possession of 
 overaweing St, Clair, and this silly freak of an old 
 gipsy? Truly you astonish me !" 
 
 Lady Lilla's merriment pealed forth with a sound 
 of so much melodious heartiness, that for an instant 
 I was staggered; and then I thought within my- 
 self that it must be a mere coincidence after all. I 
 had never seen her more gay : I could not possibly 
 believe that this gaiety was feigned on her part ; 
 and therefore I had no pretext for further com- 
 ment on that topic. But I was on the very point 
 of mentioning the other subject : namely, the one in 
 reference to the fragment of the letter and her own 
 handwriting ; when some lady-visitors drove up 
 in their carriage to the gate. These were friends 
 whom I had seen before. A party was formed to 
 visit the Zoological Gardens in the neighbourhood : 
 those ladies returned with us to dinner ; and as 
 they did not take their leave until somewhat a late 
 hour, I had no further opportunity of conversing 
 alone that day with Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 
 But on retiring to rest, I again reviewed all 
 those topics which had been troubling me. Could 
 it have been a mere delusion on my part when I 
 fancied that on first mentioning the old gipsy. 
 Lady Lilla Essendine had turned so ghastly white? 
 and was I contemplating her at the time only 
 through the medium of the distorting mirror of 
 my own morbid sensations ? As for what the 
 gipsy had told me relative to the tall, slender, 
 handsome young man, — I attached no more im- 
 portance to it than that it had vividly reminded 
 me of my cousin Harry, — with whose description, 
 in its slightly outlined sketch, it happened to cor- 
 respond. But this I knew to be accidental : she 
 had spoken in the wonted jargon of gipsies, who 
 invariably promise tall, dark- haired, slender lovers 
 to the silly girls who are foolish enough to listen 
 to them. 
 
 My sleep that night was uneasy and feverish.
 
 ELLEN PBECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 65 
 
 Wlien I awoke in the morning, I found her lalj. 
 fillip's maid in my room ; and on inquiring what 
 o'clock it was, I learnt that it was half-an-hour 
 later than my wonted time for rising. I had lain 
 EO long awake, with the occupation of my thoughts, 
 in the early part of the night, that I had slum> 
 bered heavily during the latter portion. 
 
 "If you please, Miss," said the maid, "her 
 ladyship begs your acceptance of this present. It 
 was ordered for you two or three days ago— but 
 only arrived last evening; and her ladyship had 
 not then an opportunity of placing it in your 
 bands?" 
 
 It was a jewel-casket, containing an elegant gold 
 watch and chain, a beautiful pair of earrings, two 
 rings, a brooch, and a wreath of pearls. Tlie maid 
 directed my attention to an inscription inside the 
 watch, and which described it as "a tribute of 
 friendship to Miss Percy, from Lady Lilla Essen- 
 No. 9.— Ellev Fsbct. 
 
 dine." The value of the casket's contents could 
 not have been much under a hundred guineas. 
 
 I was at first sorry that her ladyship had made 
 me this present, because it disarmed me of my in- 
 tention of speaking to her on the subject of the frag- 
 ment of the letter. How could I possibly say any- 
 thing disagreeable to one who was overwhelming 
 me with kindnesses ? But a little reflection im- 
 parted a more satisfactory tenour to my thoughts. 
 Must not Lady Lilla, I asked myself, possess an 
 excellent heart that where she formed a friendship 
 she delighted to give so many proofs of it ? Could 
 Buch a woman possibly possess a bad heart ? must 
 not her disposition be in every respect admirable ? 
 and might I not therefore have been all the while 
 wronging her with the most unjust suspicions? 
 Again, was it generous on my part to be so hasty, 
 as I had been, in leaping at conclusions so preju- 
 dicial to the character of one who was striving
 
 66 
 
 ELLEN PBECTr OE, THE MEMOIllS OV AW ACTRESS. 
 
 her best to aflford me proofs of love and friend- 
 ship ? At all events I came to the conclusion that 
 I must remain silent for the present in respect to 
 the one topic on which I had been so anxious to 
 speak to Lady Lilla ; and I must thenceforth be 
 guided by circumstances. 
 
 On joining her at the breakfast-table, I prof- 
 fered my warmest thanks for her kindness towards 
 me ; and she said so many aflfectionate things, with 
 an air of so much sincerity, that I was confirmed 
 in my resolve of avoiding even the remotest chance 
 of giving her pain by hinting at a suspicion which 
 might prove to be utterly unfounded. 
 
 A fortnight passed from the date of the inci- 
 dents which I have just been describing. I had 
 now been three weeks at Claremont Villa, and 
 another week's sojourn was to complete my visit. 
 The Normans would then return— I was to rejoin 
 them — the theatre would reopen — and I was to 
 make my next appearance before the public in the 
 character of the heroine in Eomeo and Juliet. 
 During these three weeks which had thus already 
 elapsed, I had called twice upon Melissa Harrison, 
 and had found that her health was improving. I 
 now proposed to pay her a third visit ; and I 
 availed myself of an opportunity when Lady Lilla 
 Essendiue had to make a call at no great distance 
 from the neighbourhood where my invalid friend 
 dwelt. 
 
 Having passed nearly an hour with Melissa on 
 the occasion to which I refer, I was returning to 
 the house where I bad parted from her ladyship, 
 and where I was to rejoin her,— when I encoun- 
 tered Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. The young 
 nobleman made ue a most courteous salutation, 
 and stopped to converse. The reader is already 
 aware that he k^i formed an attachment for my 
 friend Juliet Norman; and the sort of courtship 
 he was paying her, had been progressing for about 
 six or seven months— though up to the time when 
 the vacation commenced he had not made any 
 direct proposal : for Juliet had told me previous to 
 her departure fur Ramagate, that she was both 
 perplexed and distresseii on that account. He was 
 an exceedingly handsome young man, with dark 
 hair and eyes, and a fine profile : he was not as yet 
 two-and-twenty years of age; and as I have 
 already stated, was the son of the Earl of Car- 
 Bhaltou. 
 
 " Miss Percy," he said, as I encountered him on 
 taking my departure from Melissa's lodgings, " I 
 am rejoiced that I have met you ! You can do 
 me a favour." 
 
 " I, my lord ?" I exclaimed, for a moment taken 
 by surprise : but then it immediately struck me 
 that the service he required might be something 
 in reference to Juliet. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Percy," he responded, — "a very 
 great favour, I can assure you ! But have you 
 not heard from Miss Norman lately ?" — and me- 
 thought he looked both confused and anxious as he 
 hurriedly put the question. 
 
 " I have received three or four letters from her," 
 I rejijined, " during the time we have been sepa- 
 rated ; and the last reached me yesterday morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " And did she say nothing But I see she did 
 
 not !" exclaimed Lord Frederick. " It was as well ; 
 — and I am grateful ! But would you. Miss Percy, 
 kindly undertake to enclose to your friend Juliet 
 
 a. note from me in the next letter which you may 
 be sending her ? — and if it were by to-day's post I 
 should be all the better pleased." 
 
 I was instantaneously struck by the conviction 
 that something unpleasant must have occurred ia 
 respect to Lord Frederick's courtship : but I was 
 at a loss to conjecture what it could possibly be. 
 I therefore said in a guarded manner, " Your 
 lordship must best know whether you have Miss 
 Norman's consent to correspond with her, and 
 whether her parents have sanctioned such corre- 
 spondence : for I think I know Juliet well enough 
 to be assured that she would do nothing without 
 the concurrence of her father and mother." 
 
 " Do not force me into explanations. Miss 
 Percy !" exclaiujed Eaveuscliffe, who seemed very 
 much troubled and excited : "but pray render me 
 the service which I entreat at your hands. It is a 
 simple one for you to perform " 
 
 " My lord," I interrupted him, " there is some- 
 thing so singular in the demand that I cannot 
 comply with it. I owe so much to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman that not for worlds would I do anything 
 that might in any way vex or displease them. It 
 is evident that you seek to initiate a clandestine 
 correspondence; and in tbis endeavour I cannot 
 possibly become an accomplice." 
 
 Lord Eavenscliffe looked distressed; and he was 
 evidently hesitating in what manner he could con- 
 tinue to urge his entreaty — when I, thinking that 
 the interview ought not to be prolonged, bowed and 
 passed on. He did not follow; and as I hastened 
 to rejoin Lilla Esseodine, I was lost in conjecture 
 as to the cause of the young nobleman's request. 
 
 I should observe that Juliet in her first letter 
 from Eamsgato had stated that Lord Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe had gone down to that watering-place 
 likewise : but in her subsequent communications 
 she had not mentioned his name. This had not 
 struck me as singular at the time : but now I 
 could not help thinking that a rupture must have 
 taken place between the young nobleman and her- 
 self. At all events I was satisfied with the part I 
 had just performed ; for I knew that if Lord 
 Frederick Eavensdiffe's correspondence witb Juliet 
 were agreeable to herself and her parents, the 
 medium of the post was as open to him as to my- 
 self. 
 
 The remaining week which I had to spend 
 at Claremont Viila, passed without any incident 
 worthy of mention; and when the day came for 
 my departure, I warmly expressed my gratitude 
 for all Lilla's kindnesses towards me. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BOUQUET. 
 
 OiT returning to Hunter Street, I was cordially 
 received by my friends the Normans, who had 
 arrived on the previous evening from Eamsgate. 
 It immediately struck me however that Juliet had 
 not benefited by the month's change of air; for 
 she looked pale — she was out of spirits — and there 
 was about her a languor which alternated with 
 restlessness, both being very far from affected. I 
 saw likewise that Mr. and Mrs. Norman occa- 
 sionally looked furtively at their daughtel : but
 
 BlT.Bir PEBCT; OH, THE MEMOIES OP AW ACTBBSS. 
 
 67 
 
 these glances were replete vfith a certain degree 
 of anxiety ; and thej then exchanged regards with 
 each other, in a manner that was significant of 
 some cause for sorrow. Being convinced that 
 Lord Frederick was in some way connected with 
 all this, I did i>ot mention his name : nor was he 
 once alluded to by the Normans in my presence- 
 It was in the afternoon when I returned to 
 Hunter Street : we sat conversing in the drawing- 
 room until dinner-time ; and it was not before we 
 retired for the night that I found an opportunity 
 of being alone with Juliet. She then accompanied 
 me to my chamber ; and throwing herself with an 
 air of mingled languor and distress into an easy- 
 chair, she said, " O Ellen ! I have so longed for 
 this moment to come that I might talk to you in 
 confidence !" 
 
 " I see, dear Julie," I replied, " that there is 
 something hanging upon your mind." 
 
 " Yes — I am indeed very, very unhappy !" cried 
 poor Juliet : and then the tears began trickling 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 I embraced her, saying everything I could think 
 of to impart consolation, without seeming to con- 
 jecture the cause of her distress; for I preferred 
 that she should take the initiative in the discourse 
 which I saw must ensue. 
 
 " Tou know not how my feelings have been out- 
 raged," she continued, suddenly wiping away her 
 tears, and now speaking with a certain bitterness 
 of tone and indignant pride of look. " I will tell 
 you everything, Ellen ! I am about to speak of 
 Bavenscliffe. You know how for months past he 
 has paid his attentions to me ; and I need not 
 remind you that his assiduities were conducted in 
 
 so delicate a manner I had a right to expect 
 
 you know what I mean that his intentions 
 
 were honourable." 
 
 " Good heavens, Juliet I" I exclaimed, as a con- 
 jecture flashed in unto my brain : " you would not 
 have me understand that he dared address you in 
 any other strain than that which was consistent 
 with his own behaviour as a gentleman and with 
 the prudence of your conduct?" 
 
 " Alas, Ellen ! I mean that he has done so ! 
 But listen to me," continued Juliet. " It was 
 with the consent of my parents that he visited at 
 the house ; and it would be a ridiculous affectation 
 to deny that they were pleased when they per- 
 ceived that I was the object of his attentions. 
 Though only a second son, he has an independent 
 property of his own, left him by a deceased rela- 
 tive ; and being of age, he is the master of his 
 actions. Heaven knows," proceeded Juliet, again 
 weeping, " I have not loved him from selfish mo- 
 tives ! Had he possessed nothing, it would have 
 
 been all the same though I do not deny that 
 
 even while I gave him my heart, my ambition was 
 flattered by the idea of becoming the wife of a 
 titled patrician. Before we went to Bamsgate ho 
 said that he should have the pleasure of meeting 
 us there ; and accordingly, on our arrival, the first 
 visit we received was from Lord Frederick. I told 
 you in a letter that he was there. He was stay- 
 ing at an hotel : he had his horses and servants 
 with him: but he appeared to take no pleasure in 
 anything when away from us — or may I not more 
 I correctly say, when away from me 1 One day — 
 we had not been a fortnight at Eamsgate— when 
 on calling at our lodgings as usual, he happened 
 
 to find me alone. Then for the first time did his 
 lips avow that love which his attentions had long 
 displayed ; and Oh, Ellen ! you will not think me 
 foolish when I tell you that it was the happiest 
 moment of my life. He continued to address me 
 in the most impassioned strain : he declared that 
 
 he could not live without me But, Oh ! I dare 
 
 not dwell upon this portion of the dream in which 
 I had cradled myself!" 
 
 Juliet again spoke with bitterness : but the tears 
 were trickling down her cheeks ; and I was pro- 
 foundly affected. 
 
 " I abandoned myself, as it were," she presently 
 continued, " to the ecstatic pleasure of listening 
 to language which flowed like the most delicious 
 music upon my ear, and the effect of which was to 
 bathe my soul in a fount of elysiaa bli s. But 
 gradually methought this language of his began to 
 flow in a channel which aroused my misgivings ; 
 and because I listened in the most painful doubt 
 and bewilderment, he no doubt fancied that I was 
 yielding to his persuasion. lie spoke out more 
 plainly : his words became bolder, yet still remain- 
 ing full of tem'.erness. He told me that his 
 parents would never consent to his union with one 
 who liad figured upon the stage — and that he dared 
 not offend them, for that in a pecuniary sense he 
 was more under their power than the world gene- 
 rally imagined. He then spoke lightly of the 
 marriage ceremony. — In short, Ellen," added 
 Juliet with an almost suffocating sob of anguish, 
 " he besought me to leave my home — and— and — 
 live with him as a mistress." 
 
 I was not altogether unprepared for such a reve- 
 lation ; and yet I felt shocked when it was made. 
 I threw myself into Juliet's arms, and again said 
 everything I could think of to console her. Then 
 disengaging myself from her embrace, I contem- 
 plated her ; and as I looked at her superbly modelled 
 form — her handsome countenance — her dark hair 
 — her magnificent eyes, of deep violet blue — her 
 splendid teeth— and her long and arching neck — 
 when I thought too of her polished manners and 
 her lady-like deportment, and remembered that 
 •he was in the glory of that youthful beauty, being 
 not yet twenty years of age — I could not help ex- 
 claiming, "Oh, the wretched pride of these 
 haughty aristocratic families!— a pride which in- 
 terferes with the best feelings of the heart ! — for I 
 feel convinced that if it were not for this deplorable 
 influence, Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe would be 
 rejoiced to make you his bride !" 
 
 " Ab, my dear Ellen," responded Juliet, with 
 deepest mournfulness, " that dream is now over. 
 Is it necessary for me to tell you how I acted when 
 the frightful conviction could no longer be kept 
 away from my mind and I knew that I was listen- 
 ing to the insidious language of a selfish and 
 unprincipled young man ? I ordered him from ray 
 presence : he threw himself at my feet, imploring 
 my pardon— he gave vent to the most impassioned 
 ejaculations of despair— but I told him it was too 
 late! He caught my hand — he pressed it to his 
 lips: I tore it away from him — I burst from the 
 room I Oh ! when in the solitude of my chamber, 
 I thought that my heart would break ! He quitted 
 the house ; and. when my parents returned from 
 their walk, I told them everything. Nothing 
 could exceed my mother's grief — my father's in- 
 dignation ; and they bitterly reproached themselres
 
 e.8 
 
 ELtEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOISS OF Alt ACTRESS. 
 
 for having encouraged the risits of Lord Frederick. 
 My father sent him a letter, desiring that he would 
 come to the bouse no more ; and the next day we 
 heard that he had left Hamsgate. In my corre- 
 spondence with you, dear Ellen, I did not mention 
 these things— because I knew that you would be 
 distressed, and I did not choose that my sorrows 
 should interfere with your enjoyments. And then 
 too it was a subject on which I could not bring 
 myself to write calmly : I preferred waiting till we 
 met, when I might give you my confidence — as I 
 have now given it. Lord Frederick wrote to me 
 from London. I knew his handwriting ; and I 
 gave the letter, unopened, to my father, — who 
 returned it by the next post. Then came a letter 
 to my mother : that likewise was sent back un> 
 opened. And now, Ellen, I have told you all !" 
 
 " But I, dear Juliet, have something to commu- 
 nicate :" — and I proceeded to describe the inter- 
 view which had taken place between myself and 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe a week back. 
 
 Juliet listened with the most anxious atten- 
 tion; and when I had finished, she exclaimed, 
 " You acted well, Ellen— no doubt you acted well ! 
 But who knows — who knows," she continued, with 
 feverish excitement, " but that he is sincerely peni- 
 tent—that it was in a moment of aberration he 
 addressed me in such a strain— and that he would 
 now willingly by his conduct make every possible 
 atonement ?" 
 
 " You love him then, Juliet ?" I said in a gentle 
 voice, as I bent over her : " you still love him — 
 very, very dearly ?" 
 
 Her handsome countenance drooped down al- 
 most to her very bosom, as she murmured in a 
 tone that was scarcely audible, " Yes— I love him 
 very, very dearly !" 
 
 The sympathy that I experienced for my un- 
 happy friend, was expressed by a profound sigh. 
 
 " Oh ! I have endeavoured," exclaimed Miss 
 Norman, suddenly lifting up her countenance to- 
 wards me, " to triumph over this love of mine, 
 and to shut out from my heart an image which I 
 feel to be unworthy of that sanctuary. But my 
 attempt has been in vain. Oh, yes— I love him! 
 Would that I could take refuge in my pride— 
 my dignity ! — but I cannot. My mind is not 
 powerful enough for that efibrt. No child ever 
 wept more bitterly for the loss or destruction of 
 some favourite toy, than I have wept, Ellen, for 
 the loss of that hope which was so bright, and the 
 destruction of that dream which was so beautiful ! 
 I feel as if all my happiness were gone — as if the 
 very taste for existence itself were dead within me. 
 Ah ! do not deem me foolish ! I would be wise if 
 I could : but to be wise in such a case, one must 
 
 be strong and I confess that I have not this 
 
 strength ! No, no— I am very, very unhappy !" 
 
 Juliet was now weeping piteously ; and I had 
 no longer any words wherewith to console her. 
 But she herself again caught at that source of 
 consolation at which she had previously clutched ; 
 aud she exclaimed passionately, " My father and 
 mother did wrong to return those letters ! The 
 iusult was immense : but there was an atonement 
 which, if offered, need not have been refused. 
 Perhaps he may have reflected to himself that 
 be could value and esteem me all the more as a 
 wife, since my virtue had prevented me from be- 
 eoming his mistre'is !" 
 
 " My dear friend," I answered, " if Lord Frede- 
 rick Eavenscliffe be sincere in offering that atone- 
 ment to which you have alluded, rest assured that 
 he will discover the means. Though by letter he 
 has failed in communicating with your parents, 
 yet may he charge some mutual friend to become 
 the bearer of a message to which Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman will not at least turn a deaf ear." 
 
 " Oh, a thousand thanks, Ellen, for that sug- 
 gestion — that hope !" exclaimed Juliet, now em- 
 bracing me with fervour. " Yes — yes ! rest as- 
 sured Frederick will prove himself worthy of my 
 love ! And that one fault — that transient aberra- 
 tion — Oh, I can forgive it !" 
 
 I considered it would be cruel to destroy the 
 hope in which Juliet was thus cradling herself — 
 though I must confess that I had little faith in it. 
 She now bade me " Good night ;" and it was in a 
 far better frame of mind, if not with positive joy- 
 ousness, that she issued from my chamber. 
 
 On the following evening I reappeared at the 
 theatre, in the character of Juliet. This beautiful 
 drama of Shakspere had always been a favourite 
 one of mine, even when at my aunt's I had been 
 wont to study a select edition of the great author's 
 works, and when I had little dreamt that I myself 
 should ever appear upon the stage. I had already 
 once enacted the part of Juliet : it was my third 
 performance—and the dramatic critics had spoken 
 well of it. But while at Lady Lilla Essendine's, 
 I had reflected far more maturely on the niceties, 
 the peculiarities, and the intricacies, so to speak, 
 of that part: I had identified myself with the 
 feelings of the heroine throughout her brief but 
 romantic and deeply interesting career ; and I was 
 now confident that I could develop all the power 
 of the pathos, so to speak, which belonged to the 
 character, more efi'ectively than Thad previously 
 done. The house was crowded to sufi'ocation ; and 
 I recognised Lady Lilla Essendine, with a group 
 of friends, in one box — the Parkses and some of 
 their acquaintances in another — Lord Frederick 
 E.avensclifi'e, with several young gentlemen, in a 
 third. Methought for an instant that St. Clair 
 might likewise be present : I assuredly had no in- 
 clination to see him there ; nor did my looks, as I 
 swept them round the vast semicircle, encounter 
 him. 
 
 I was full of confidence : I experienced not the 
 slightest tremor on this occasion. My memory was 
 clear as the most crystal water is transparent: I 
 moved, and felt, and thought only as Juliet Capulet. 
 My success was immense ; and as each disappearance 
 from the scene elicited fresh and heightened out- 
 bursts of applause, I had the conviction that I had 
 succeeded in touching the feelings of the audience 
 as I had intended to move them. All this is not 
 vanity, gentle reader : it is an indispensable por- 
 tion of my narrative ; and I confess that I was 
 elated — I was exultant: I feel convinced that 
 wine never produced upon the heart of man such 
 an exhilaration of the senses as that which I en. 
 joyed in the hour of my brilliant triumph. But 
 it was chiefly in that deeply pathetic scene where 
 I had to appear with the drugged phial and the 
 pointed dagger, that the result was most effective : 
 the sobs of many of the ladies were audible from 
 the boxes; and they were natural tears which 
 flowed down my own cheeks. I was as completely 
 Juliet Capulet th«n, as if thff great bard's tragedy
 
 ELLEW PBECT ; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 Od 
 
 wero a true one, and my spirit, disembodied from 
 the form that bore the name of Ellen Percy or 
 Miss Trafford, bad been transfused into that of 
 the heroine of the drama. When the curtain fell 
 at the conclusion of the piece, Mr. and Mrs. Nor- 
 man both with sincerest enthusiasm hailed me as 
 "a great actress;" and their daughter with no 
 less fervour echoed the welcome. Mr. Eichards, 
 the lessee of the theatre, was all bows, congratula- 
 tions, and politeness; and I could not help men- 
 tally contrasting his present demeanour with his 
 patronising and somewhat supercilious bearing to- 
 wards me on the occasion when I appeared humbly 
 before him to give a specimen of my abilities. I 
 was loudly called for on the part of the audience; 
 and when I was led on the stage before the cur- 
 tain, much of my native timidity and bashfulness 
 returned : I was no longer Juliet in the drama — 
 but was reduced to a consciousness of my own 
 identity ; and not even the flush of success and 
 the glow of triumph could lift me completely 
 above that feeling of embarrassment and con- 
 fusion. The applause was immense ; and bouquets 
 were showered upon me, numerous voices inti- 
 mating that I must look inside these nosegays of 
 flowers. 
 
 I did not comprehend what these words meant 
 until after I had retired to my dressing-room, 
 where all the bouquets were brought to me in a 
 large tray as they had been gathered up from the 
 stage by some of the theatrical underlings. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman had to appear in the next 
 piece ; and they had therefore left me to make 
 suitable changes in their own toilets ; for they had 
 borne parts in "Borneo and Juliet." I was now 
 nlone with Miss Norman and her maid, who at- 
 tended upon us both. Thinking however that 
 Mrs. Norman Tnight need the assistance of the 
 maid, I bade her proceed to that lady's dressing- 
 room ; and thus I was now entirely alone with 
 Juliet, who was not -to appear until the ballet. 
 
 "Let us look at the bouquets!" exclaimed Miss 
 Norman, when the tray had been deposited on the 
 table. " You will find some handsome presents 
 here, Ellen ?" 
 
 " Presents ?" I repeated, struck by the conjec- 
 ture that her words had a meaning beyond a bare 
 allusion to the flowers themselves. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. " Did you not hear several 
 voices bid you look inside the nosegays .''" 
 
 " I remember ! But is it possible " 
 
 " So possible," cried Juliet, as she opened the 
 first bouquet she took up, " that here is a beautiful 
 diamond ring carefully attached by a ribbon to the 
 stem of this rose. That came from some fair 
 finger ; but it shall adorn a fairer one. And here, 
 in this bouquet, is a bracelet — a magnificent one, 
 and massive too ! The gift is generous— though 
 it might have come in inconvenient concussion 
 against your flesh. What have we here, envelopeu 
 so carefully in this piece of satin, and fastened 
 with a pink ribbon to the spray of the moss-rose ? 
 Another diamond ring! — with the inscription on 
 the satin, ' To the great tragedian' — Ellen, my 
 dear Ellen, you are already famous !" 
 
 " But what is this ?" I said, now taking up a 
 bouquet as an excuse to bend over it to conceal the 
 blushes of mingled triumph and confusion, pride 
 and modesty, that were upon my cheeks. "A 
 noto ? And it is addressed to you, Juliet ?" 
 
 " Ah !" she ejaculated : and then, as she took 
 the note from my hand, she added, " it is from 
 Eavensclifi"e !" 
 
 " You will not open it ?" I said, somewhat 
 offended at the manner in which he thus sought 
 to render me the instrument as it were of convey- 
 ing a billet to the young lady whose feelings he 
 bad so outraged. 
 
 But the next instant I was almost sorry for the 
 words I had spoken — because, as I lonked up at 
 Juliet, I saw that her handsome countenance had 
 become perfectly radiant with joy, and then a 
 sudden mournfulness seized upon it — a mournful- 
 ness which my speech had shed like a blight upon 
 the rose. 
 
 " Or at least," I immediately added, " you will 
 only open it in Mrs. Norman's presence ?" 
 
 I noticed that a powerful struggle was taking 
 place in Juliet's bosom : the colour went and came 
 in rapid transitions upon her cheeks, and after 
 some hesitation, she said reproachfully, " Oh, 
 Ellen ! if it were you, I would not be so hpjsh!" 
 
 "Dearest Juliet," I cried, acutely pained by that 
 species of reproach which had just issued from her 
 lips, " believe me — Oh ! believe me, that in a mo- 
 ment when I have every reason to be overwhelmed 
 with joy, I would more than ever give much to be 
 enabled to infuse happiness into your heart. If 
 you think therefore " 
 
 " At all events," said Miss Norman, " I shall be 
 reading it in your presence ; and I pledge myself 
 that whatever it may contain, I will place this 
 billet in the hands of my parents." 
 
 " Then open it, Juliet," I said. 
 
 Her superb violet eyes flashed upon me a glance 
 of unspeakable gratitude; and the next instant 
 the billet was open in her hand. It evidently con. 
 tained but a few words — for at a glance she read 
 them ; and with a cry of joy she sank upon a 
 seat. 
 
 "Eead it, dear Ellen— read it !" she exclaimed ; 
 and she handed me the note, the contents of which 
 were as follow: — 
 
 "Pardon me, dearest Juliet, for an ofi'ence 
 which I have bitterly deplored ever since it was 
 committed. Be mine!— become my wife — accept 
 my hand ! 
 
 " Yours ever faithfully and devotedly, 
 
 " FREDERICK RAVENSCLIFFE." 
 
 " I congratulate you, Juliet," I said, embracing 
 her with fervour. 
 
 " Oh ! I knew that he would make every atone- 
 ment," she said, trembling with joy : and perhaps 
 never did she look more truly handsome than at 
 that moment. " Ah ! cannot I now forgive him 
 for that one offence ? Oh, yes ! — and my parents 
 will likewise accord him their forgiveness !" 
 
 For some time we conversed together upon this 
 change in Juliet's prospects — so that the bouquets 
 were awhile forgotten. I no longer felt hurt at 
 RavenscliSe's conduct with respect to the mode he 
 had adopted in conveying the billet to my friends 
 I was exceedingly happy on her account ; and I 
 had no difliculty in agreeing with her that the 
 young nobleman's past ofi'eDce was atoned for. I 
 was all the more rejoiced too, inasmuch as I had 
 been agreeably disappointed in this result of Lord 
 Frederick RavenscliSe's proceedings with referenw
 
 70 
 
 ELLrif r-EECT; OB, THE MEMOISS OP AW ACTEB88. 
 
 •i> Miss Norman. But these reflections wero at 
 llie instant onlj hastily made. 
 
 We now resumed our examination of the bou- 
 quets ; and out of some fifty or sixty which had 
 been thrown upon the stage, ten or a dozen con- 
 tained presents of more or less value — some few be- 
 ing even costly. When I returned home that night, 
 I insisted upon making my friends, the Normans, 
 the sharers of my presents: but nothing could 
 induce Mr. and Mrs. Iforman to accept anything 
 from me. It was even with difficulty I persuaded 
 them to allow me to place a ring on Juliet's finger, 
 or that she would take it. Then, in my presence, 
 did she present to her parents the billet she had 
 received from Lord Ravenscliffe — requesting me to 
 explain the circumstances in which it had been 
 conveyed to her. This narrative I at once gave— 
 omitting however the remonstrance I had in the 
 first instance breathed against Juliet's opening the 
 missive. This deficiency she generously hastened 
 to make good ; so that I received the approving 
 and grateful looks of her parents, 
 
 " I cannot reproach you, my dear child," said 
 Mr. Norman, affectionately addressing his 
 daughter, " for having opened the billet in the 
 presence of your excellent friend, Ellen. Nor 
 need I ask," he added slyly, at the same time 
 tenderly caressing Juliet's dark hair, " what reply 
 is to be sent to Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe." 
 
 " By his present honourable conduct," said Mrs. 
 Norman, " he makes every possible reparation for 
 his temporary misbehaviour." 
 
 I could not help refiecting, now that I had leisure 
 for such meditation, that there must have been a 
 sad want of principle on the part of the young 
 nobleman to seek to seduce Juliet from the paternal 
 care, and that he could not be altogether unprac- 
 tised in the insidious language of which he had 
 made use— especially when he had spoken so lightly 
 of the marriage tie. I could not therefore alto- 
 gether reconcile myself to the belief that he was 
 certain to make a good husband. But it was not 
 for me to throw a damp upon the spirits of those 
 kind friends who were happy, nor to constitute my- 
 self a prophetess of evil. Before we retired to 
 rest that night, Mr. Norman intimated his inten- 
 tion of communicating with Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe in the morning. 
 
 This he accordingly did immediately after break- 
 fast on the ensuing day; and as there were no 
 rehearsals to be attended, the time was at the 
 Normans' disposal for the expected interview with 
 his lordship. Precisely at one o'clock the young 
 nobleman's handsome phaeton drove up to the 
 door J and from behind the curtain of the drawing- 
 room window Juliet beheld him alight. I was 
 alone with her in that apartment ; for her parents 
 were waiting to receive him in the first instance in 
 a parlour down stairs. Their interview with him 
 lasted for upwards of half-an-hour, during which 
 time poor Juliet was a prey to the most anxious 
 suspense. Could anything be wrong ? was he fail- 
 ing to satisfy her parents of his honourable inten- 
 tions — of his contrition for the past — or of his 
 ability to maintain a wife ? I assured her over 
 and over again that I felt convinced she had 
 nothing- to apprehend on these points; or else 
 Lord Frederick would neither have written the 
 billet, nor have come in answer to Mr. Norman's 
 summons : but I suggested that her parents were 
 
 doubtless proceeding with suitable caution. At 
 length hasty 8t«p« wen heard ascending, or rather 
 rushing up the staira: the door burst open; and 
 the young nobleman flung himself at Juliet's 
 feet. 
 
 I retreated from the apartment; for I knevr 
 that the lovers would prefer being alone together, 
 and that they had much to say. There was for- 
 giveness to be solicited and the assurance thereof 
 to be returned : there were doubtless plans to be 
 discussed and settled for the future. 1 went down 
 stairs, and joined Mr. and Mrs. Norman, who had 
 remained in the parlour. Methought 'U my en- 
 trance they were in serious deliberation together ; 
 and I was on the point of withdrawing from that 
 room also, when Mrs. Norman bade me remain, 
 
 "We have no secrets from you, Ellen," she 
 said; " and moreover you must assist as bridemaid 
 at the ceremony which is soon to take place — 
 though under circumstances sufficiently private 
 and indeed secret as to divest the event itself of 
 half the joy and satisfaction which as Juliet's 
 parents we should otherwise experience." 
 
 I was both surprised and pained at the lan- 
 guage which I thus heard : for it struck me as an 
 evil omen, in addition to my previous gloomy pre- 
 sages, with regard to the wedded Life on which my 
 beloved friend Juliet was, as it appeared, speedily 
 to enter. 
 
 "But after all," said Mr. Norman, with the 
 visible effort of one straining and striving to re- 
 concile himself to something which was neverthe- 
 less not quite so agreeable as it might be — " but 
 after all, Ravenscliffe explained himself very 
 frankly. You know, Ellen, that he is the second 
 son of the Earl and Countess of Carshalton : 
 there is no name in the peerage more ancient 
 than this title— there is no family in the whole 
 range of aristocracy more proud than that which 
 bears it. Now, we must not blind ourselves to 
 the fact that there is in certain quarters a preju- 
 dice " 
 
 " But look at our Juliet !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Norman, with all a mother's pride : " is she not 
 superbly handsome ? where will you see a finer 
 grown young woman?" 
 
 " And she is amiable, and good, and well- 
 mannered," I interjected; "and in every respect 
 worthy to become a nobleman's wife, if the ridi- 
 culous prejudices of society were set aside." 
 
 " However," said Mrs. Norman, " of course 
 poor Lord Frederick cannot help those prejudices, 
 as they are entertained by his father and mother ; 
 and he has explained himself, as Mr. Norman has 
 just stated, so frankly — he spoke with so much 
 sincerity — that it was impossible to avoid yielding 
 to his arguments, his entreaties, and his represen- 
 tations." 
 
 " But while we are thus commenting upon the 
 matter," sai 1 Mr. Norman, " Ellen continues in 
 ignorance of the arrangements that have been 
 made, as well as of the motives for making them. 
 You must know, Ellen, the world has hitherto 
 been mistaken relative to Lord Frederick's pecu- 
 niary position. A deceased relation left him a 
 sum of money in the funds, producing about three 
 thousand a year — but on condition that he was 
 not to marry before the age of twenty-three with- 
 out his parents' consent — it being doubtless sup- 
 posed that by the time he should have attained
 
 Ei/iKsr peKct ; oB, the memoirs of an actress. 
 
 71 
 
 that period of life, his mind would be sufficiently 
 formed and his experiences enlarged enough to 
 allow him to cater for his own happiness." 
 
 " And if," interjected Mrs. Norraan, " he should 
 contract a marriage contrary to his parents' 
 wishes before the age of twenty-three, the money 
 80 bequeathed by his deceased relative is to pass 
 into other hands. Is it not so, my dear ?" 
 
 " The matter stands as you have described it," 
 rejoined Mr. Norman. " Now, it is quite certain 
 my dear Ellen," he continued, " that the Earl and 
 Countess of Carshalton will not give their consent 
 in the present instance " 
 
 " Then why not wait," I exclaimed, " until Lord 
 Frederick shall be three-and-twenty and his own 
 master ?" 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Norman, with a sigh, " because 
 Lord Frederick is madly enamoured of our Juliet; 
 and the period of eighteen months which he would 
 have to wait, appears a perfect age to him. I 
 can well understand his feelings. And then too, 
 there is no denying the fact, Ellen, that so pro- 
 longed a courtship would have its inconveniences 
 and its risks. Juliet could not continue on the 
 stage when once formally plighted to Lord Fre- 
 derick ; and our means would be seriously cur- 
 tailed by the loss of her salary. Not but that 
 we would make any sacrifice for our dear girl 
 
 There is however another consideration ; and 
 
 this is that the ardour of love may cool in a pro- 
 longed courtship ; and it would be a terrible blow 
 to Juliet's happiness, if, after all. Lord Frederick 
 should change his mind and break off the match." 
 
 " Uesides," added Mrs. Norman, "it would be 
 useless to seek to disguise from you, Ellen, that 
 situated as we are — wanting to give our dear 
 daughter a position — this match is a very eligible 
 one — I may even say brilliant. She acquires a 
 title— and though for eighteen mouths she may 
 not bear it " 
 
 "In a word," ejaculated Mr. Norman, "we 
 Lave yielded to Lord Frederick's entreaty that the 
 marriage shall take place with the utmost privacy. 
 When once his twenty-third year is attained, and 
 the money in the funds is finally and irrevocably 
 made over to him by the trustees, he may boldly 
 proclaim his marriage without the necessity of 
 concealing the date of it ; and thus our dear 
 child's reputation cannot possibly suffer in the 
 long run, whatsoever temporary little incon- 
 venience may arise from this secret — and I may 
 say clandestine union. Everything, therefore, is 
 settled according to Lord Frederick's desire ; and 
 though one could have wished that it were other- 
 wise in a certain sense, yet we cannot in this 
 world expect everything to run precisely with our 
 inclinations." 
 
 " The marriage will take place in about a fort- 
 night," resumed Mrs. Norman : " it will of course 
 be solemnized by special license— and none but our- 
 selves will be present." 
 
 " But the clergyman ?" I suggested : " how will 
 yoa ensure his secresy ? He might possibly be- 
 tray the affair to the Earl of Carshalton before it 
 is too late to recede " 
 
 " Lord Frederick has undertaken to provide 
 against that casualty," said Mr. Norman. " He 
 is acquainted with a clergyman — a poor curate in 
 some distant county — on whom he can rely ; and 
 by this reverend gentleman will the nuptial bless- 
 
 ing be pronounced. In short, my dear Juliet, 
 every arrangement is finally settled ; and Ellen's 
 mother and myself have done our best to ensure 
 our dear child's happiness. Ah ! by the bye, I 
 forgot to mention that Lord Frederick has a beau- 
 tiful little place — a mere cottage, but singularly 
 picturesque in its situation amidst the few acres of 
 
 pleasure-grounds belonging to it it is only a 
 
 few miles distant from London and it is there 
 
 that the ceremony is to be performed. The happy 
 pair will immediately go upon the Continent, un- 
 der cir<!umstances of the strictest privacy, to pass 
 the honeymoon : we shall pretext a visit that Juliet 
 is paying to a relation in the country ; and on her 
 return she will come back to us, until the time 
 when Lord Frederick may no longer be necessi- 
 tated to conceal their marriage." 
 
 " You forget to add, my dear," said Mrs. Nor. 
 man, who had sighed more than once during her 
 husband's last speech, " that Lord Frederick just 
 now showed us all the papers connected with the 
 manner in which his fortune was left him. And 
 therefore you see, my dear Ellen," she remarked, 
 turning to me, "that the young nobleman has 
 behaved most straightforward and frankly in the 
 matter, and that he is doing all he can under ex< 
 isting circumstances." 
 
 The footman now entered to announce that lun- 
 cheon was served; and we proceeded to the dining- 
 room, where we were almost immediately joined 
 by Juliet and her noble suitor. I saw at a glance 
 that Miss Norman was completely happy ; and it 
 was no wonder— for being deeply enamoured of Lord 
 Frederick, as well as having her ambition gratified 
 by the prospect of sharing his patrician rank, she 
 could easily reconcile herself to the temporary in- 
 convenience of secresy and privacy in reference to 
 the contemplated marriage. Besides, one who loves 
 thinks only of possessing the object of the heart's 
 adoration ; and to ensure this aim even the opinion 
 of the world itself will be defied so long as there 
 is the consciousness that the time will come when 
 everything will be cleared up. 
 
 After luncheon I retired to my own chamber, 
 to rjfiect upon all that I had heard, — leaving the 
 Normans and Lord Frederick together. I by no 
 means approved of the plans that were to be 
 adopted ; nor did I conceive that they augured 
 satisfactorily for my friend Juliet's eventual happi- 
 ness. I considered that in existing circumstances 
 it would have been much more prudent to wait 
 until Lord Frederick was released from all shackles 
 and became his own master. Methought that if 
 his love were of a nature calculated to ensure 
 Juliet's felicity, it could not possibly be impaired 
 by the ordeal of an additional eighteen months' 
 courtship ; but that if, on the other hand, it were 
 of a character to cool down during that interval, 
 it were better that Juliet should altogether re- 
 nounce the idea of marriage with such an indi- 
 vidual. It was not however for me to suggest 
 my advice, much less to proclaim my misgivings 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Norman, who were the best judges 
 — or at least the most rightful and natural ones — 
 of the means most calculated to ensure their daugh- 
 ter's welfare; and as for starting a presentiment, 
 a presage, or an objection to throw a damp on 
 Juliet's happiness, I could not do such a thing 1 
 One fact was clear enough, — that Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman, with all their good qualities in other re-
 
 73 
 
 EILEN PEECT; OB, THE UEU0IB8 OV kH ACTEES3. 
 
 Bpects, were bringing themselves to strain every 
 point in order to secure a brilliant alliance for their 
 daughter; and as I knew that they loved her de- 
 votedly, I could not for a moment suspect other- 
 wise than that they were doing everything for the 
 best. Indeed, it was natural enough that they 
 should be inclined to make some sacrifices for the 
 purpose of giving Juliet a position, which, when 
 the time for secresy should have passed, would be 
 for her a brilliant one. 
 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe now became a daily 
 visitor at the house : and Juliet gave up her en- 
 gagement at the theatre. The Kormans began to 
 speak of an elderly female relative who resided at 
 Dover; and it was a fact that they did possess 
 such a relation in the person of a Mrs. Oldcastle. 
 This lady was very well oflf: she had long been a 
 , widow : but as she detested the stage and every- 
 body connected with it, she had for years forborne 
 from holding any intercourse with the Normans. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman, however, now began to in- 
 timate to their friends and visitors that Mrs. Old- 
 castle had relented — that she had written to them 
 —and that it was in deference to her wishes that 
 Juliet had resigned her engagement as a ballet 
 dancer. The falsehood was venial enough under 
 the circumstances : but it was a falsehood never- 
 theless. It however prepared the way to aflford a 
 pretext for Juliet's absence from home, and to 
 prevent the slightest suspicion or whispering of 
 scandal. 
 
 During the interval of a fortnight which now 
 passed, Juliet was so completely happy that I never 
 could find it in my heart to breathe a single syl- 
 lable which was calculated to throw a damp upon 
 ber spirits ; and I was moreover so much occupied 
 with my own dramatic engagements— while she 
 on the other hand was engaged with the prepara- 
 tions for the nuptials — that we had less oppor- 
 tunities for being together than heretofore. It 
 was stated in due course that a letter had been 
 received from Mrs. Oldcastle, inviting Juliet to 
 pass a few weeks with her ; and thus those pre- 
 parations which she was making were accounted 
 for to the servants of the bouse as well as to the 
 visitors. 
 
 In the morning of the day fixed for the nuptials, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself pro- 
 ceeded in the carriage to London Bridge, as if we 
 were about to embark on board a steamer to have 
 a trip to Gravesend, whence, as Mr. Norman 
 hinted, we were to see Juliet off on the alleged 
 visit to Mrs. Oldcastle at Dover. Thus everything 
 was avoided that could excite the suspicion of the 
 servants ; and when the carriage had departed, we 
 repaired to the spot where, according to previous 
 arrangement. Lord Frederick Bavenscliffe had bis 
 own equipage in readiness to receive us. We 
 proceeded to his little villa, which was in the 
 neighbourhood of Blackheatb; and I found it 
 quite as picturesque as Mr. Norman had described 
 it. It was small, but elegantly fitted up, and might 
 be denominated a pretty bachelor-retreat for a 
 young nobleman who was far from deficient in 
 mental resources. An elderly housekeeper, a valet, 
 and a maid-servant constituted the domestic estab- 
 lishment : Lord Frederick considered them all three 
 to be completely trustworthy ; and moreover the 
 two latter were to accompany himself and his bride 
 on their Continental visit. Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 
 were evidently struggling against feelings of dis- 
 tress at the prospect of separating from their 
 daughter : and perhaps they could not altogether 
 shut out from their minds the conviction that the 
 bridal might, under other circumstances, have been 
 taking place with less gloomy auspices. Juliet 
 herself was in one sense depressed at the idea of 
 parting from her parents and me ; but in another 
 sense she was happy — for she fondly loved Fre- 
 derick Eavenscliffe, and she had now the fullest 
 confidence in him. The young nobleman appeared 
 radiant with joy : but as for myself, I experienced 
 a sadness which I made every effort to conceal. 
 
 It was about noon when we reached the Cottage, 
 as it was called ; and we rambled about the grounds 
 for some hours. At five o'clock dinner was served 
 up : the ceremony was to take place a little later ; 
 and immediately afterwards a post-chaise was to 
 arrive to bear away the happy couple : for Lord 
 Frederick had sent back his own equipage to town, 
 so that the domestics belonging thereto might 
 know nothing of what was in progress. The 
 clergyman bad not as yet made his appearance ; 
 though Bavenscliffe had expected him to dinner. 
 He however knew that he had already arrived in 
 London — for he had seen him on the previous day ; 
 and he felt no apprehension that there would be 
 any disappointment. At about seven o'clock a 
 cab drove up to the gate of the fence which 
 bounded the garden in front of the cottage ; and 
 Bavenscliffe, catching a glimpse of its occupant, 
 joyously announced the arrival of his reverend 
 friend, Mr. Croft. 
 
 Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself now hastily 
 rose from table, and ascended to a chamber which 
 had been prepared for our reception.. The moment 
 had come when the bride was to apparel herself 
 for the departure that was to take place imme- 
 diately after the solemnization of the ceremony. 
 Her mother could not keep back her tears ; and 
 Juliet, thro?ving herself into her arms, for some 
 minutes wept bitterly. I also wept; and thus the 
 progress of the toilet was suspended. Those tears 
 were however a relief to our surcharged hearts; 
 and Mrs. Norman now exerted every effort to re- 
 gain her composure. Juliet attired herself in 
 travelling, costume ; and the rich lace veil thrown 
 over her bonnet— but which was presently to bo 
 removed— was the only indication of the bride. 
 She was pale, but eminently handsome; and ere 
 we descended from the chamber, both her mother 
 and myself embraced her fervently, wishing her all 
 possible happiness. 
 
 It was now half-past seven o'clock in the even* 
 ing ; and as it was past the middle of August the 
 dusk was already beginning to close in around. 
 On entering the drawing-room, which was on the 
 ground-floor, we found the curtains closed, and 
 wax-lights were burning upon the table. Lord 
 Frederick and Mr. Norman were conversing with 
 Mr. Croft, who was now attired in canonicals. 
 The special license and the little box containing 
 the wedding-ring were upon the table near a 
 cushion which supported the prayer-book. My 
 eyes were filled with tears; and therefore the first 
 glimpse which I obtained of the scene, was as if I 
 beheld it through a mist. I did not immediately 
 catch sight of Mr. Croft's countenance : but when 
 Lord Frederick and Mr. Norman hastened towards 
 us, I passed a kerchief across my eyes and looked
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AX ACTRESS, 
 
 73 
 
 at the minisfcr. No language can describe the 
 sensation which took possession of me as my first 
 glance was flung upon that countenance! — words 
 li.ive no faculty to depict the mingled astonishment 
 and dismay with which I was smitten as an idea 
 struck me ! Could it be possible that the face of 
 this clergyman was far from unfamiliar to me ? — 
 had I indeed seen it before — and in such circum- 
 stances too, the remembrance of which almost 
 made me shriek out ? Or was it a delusion on my j 
 part ? A dimness came over my vision — the lights 
 appeared to pale into a mist— my thoughts fell into 
 confusion — and in respect to those present I could 
 scarcely distinguish them from each other, with 
 the exception of one— that individual in the white 
 surplice, with the scarf (lowing in front and the 
 black and red hood at his back ! j 
 
 1 remember that Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe 
 introduced ilrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself in i 
 No. 10.— Ellen Pekcy. 
 
 our turns to Mr. Croft; and then the ceremony 
 commenced. I advanced mechanically behind 
 Juliet towards the table : I was Iftbouring under a 
 species of stupefaction which to me was like the 
 paralyzition of every sense — but which to those 
 about me might only have seemed a natural agi a- 
 tion, consistent with the circumstances, and chiefly 
 arising from the prospect of separation from a 
 friend whom I loved as a sister. 
 
 The ceremony was already progressing before 
 the dimness passed sufficiently away from my 
 vision, and before ray thoughts settled so far down 
 into coUectedness as to enable me take another 
 look at the surpliced minister. I now gazed upon 
 him intently ; and the conviction grew gradually 
 stronger in my mind that 1 knew his countenance 
 full well. It was changed since I had first seen it 
 nearly eight years back: the hair that was i'lcii 
 dark, bad become grizzled— the bi.vjk e^es that
 
 7i 
 
 ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTHE88. 
 
 were then piercing, had lost their fire ; and there 
 was no-.v an incipient stoop in the tall stature. All 
 this was the difl'erence between the age of about 
 forty and that of nearly fifty : but still the ex- 
 pression of that countenance — Ob ! it was the 
 Bame ! — the same as I had first seen it in my 
 grandfather's parlour at Leeds — the same as I had 
 afterwards caught a glimpse of it when looking 
 tiu'ough the window of the chamber of deatli ! 
 Yes— it was unmistakably the same! But the 
 Toice— Oh ! I had not yet thought of that ! And 
 no wonder : for not merely had my senses been 
 hitherto looked as it were in stupefaction, but 
 there was nothing now to startle me with the re- 
 collection of that voice. For when I had heard it 
 in my grandfather's parlour nearly eight years 
 back— and then again at Mrs. Parks's residence in 
 London about six years back — it was rough and 
 coarse ; whereas now it flowed with a soft so- 
 lemnity. 
 
 "Oil!" I exclaimed within myself, "it is a de- 
 lusion on my part ! Heaven be thanked that it is 
 bo!" 
 
 My heart bounded with joy : for infinite was 
 the relief it thus for an instant experienced ; — and 
 at that very moment the ring was placed by the 
 bridegroom on the finger of the bride. Yet only 
 for an instant was this relief on my part : because, 
 i'.s I sgain looked towards Mr. Croft's countenance, 
 a hurricane of misgivings swept back into my 
 mind. Once more I felt as if I must shriek out ; 
 and then all in an instant the thought flashed to 
 me that even if my suspicion were correct, and 
 that the Mr. Croft whom I beheld before Ime was 
 identical with the stranger of other times, he 
 might be a clergyman after all. Still there was a 
 hideous mystery enveloping all this; and omen 
 appeared to accumulate upon omen most inaus- 
 piciously for this bridal that was being celebrated. 
 Scarcely had this reflection passed through my 
 mind, when a particular intonation of the clergy- 
 man's voice caused 't to relapse as it were into a 
 roughness from which its hitherto softened flow 
 had only been redeemed by an artificial efibrt ; and 
 it seemed to touch a chord that vibrated most 
 painfully through my heart. Again did that 
 dimness come over my vision — again did my 
 thoughts quickly fall into confusion : my strength 
 was ebbing away — consciousness was as it were 
 slipping out of me — and I sank down in a 
 swoon. 
 
 When I came back to consciousness, I was 
 lying upon the bed in the chamber where Juliet's 
 toilet Lad been performed; and Mrs. Norman 
 was bending over me. There was an odour of 
 vinegar in the room : I now remembered that I 
 had fainted ; and Mrs. Norman said in a gentle 
 voice, "The scene was too much for you, my 
 sweet Ellen! Ofi, 1 had such dilHculty to recover 
 you!" 
 
 " Have I been unconscious very long ?" I in- 
 quired, raising myself with an effort to a sitting 
 posture on the bed. 
 
 "Yes — for some time," replied Mrs. Norman. 
 "Juliet has gone"— here the poor lady vainly en- 
 deavoured to stifle a sob — "but she kisse 1 you fer- 
 fently, Ellen — she bade me say everything kind ! 
 
 She was loath to leave you thus Oh! and she 
 
 wept too— she wept when the last moment came — 
 bitterly did she weep !" 
 
 " And it is all over ?" I said, with a sudden ex- 
 clamation as though I would have prevented it if 
 the power to do so still remained. 
 
 •'Ah! no wonder, my dear girl, that you were 
 so painfully affected !" continued Mrs. Norman, 
 who was now herself weeping bitterly. " You 
 have felt how hard it was to tear yourself away 
 from one whom you loved as a sister : but I, my 
 dear child, have been compelled to part from a 
 daughter !" 
 
 " Yes, yes — it is hard !" I murmured, almost 
 suffocated with my own sobs : and then I abruptly 
 asked, "But the clergyman, Mr. Croft?" 
 
 " He too is gone, my dear Ellen," rejoined Mrs. 
 Norman. " He is compelled to return by a night- 
 coach, it appears, to the country village of which 
 he has the curacy." 
 
 "Do you remember the name of it?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Oh, yes!— Embledon," answered Mrs. Nor- 
 man ; " and it is situated in Warwickshire. But 
 what made you ask, my dear child ?" 
 
 I had a very great mind at that moment to re- 
 veal to Mrs. Norman everything that had been 
 oppressing me — the cause of my swoon — and the 
 uneasy misgiving which was still floating in my 
 mind : but a second thought determined me to re- 
 main silent. Whether Mr. Croft and the stranger 
 were identical, was one thing : but that he was 
 really a clergyman was another; and as this latter 
 fact seemed to ba established beyond doubt, what- 
 soever I might know of the man (if indeed any- 
 thing at all) could not aff'ect the legality of the 
 marriage. I consequently made some evasive 
 reply to Mrs. Norman's question ; and declaring 
 that I was now better, I descended to the parlour, 
 where her husband was awaiting us. 
 
 Mr. Norman had himself evidently been weep- 
 ing — for he was devotedly attached to his daugh- 
 ter; and I knew ho.w severe a. pang it must have 
 cost him to separate from her. We entered a 
 vehicle which was in readiness to receive us ; and 
 returned to London, But little was said during 
 the ride ; and the house, on our arrival, seemed 
 dreary enough without Juliet. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Ow the following morning I received a letter from 
 my cousin Harry. It was brief and hurriedly 
 written, and conveyed to me a distressing piece of 
 intelligence. My aunt Mrs. Wakefield had been 
 seized with a sudden illness, which evidently ex- 
 cited the greatest apprehensions in the mind of her 
 afiectionate son ; and he requested that I would 
 hasten to Paisley with all possible despatch — for 
 that such was the earnest prayer of his mother. 
 While my cheeks were still wet with the tears 
 which this letter elicited, I proceeded to show it 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Norman; and the counsel they 
 gave me was in complete accordance with my own 
 inclination and the tenour of the request contained 
 in that letter. I was to set off for Paisley at 
 once ; and my preparations for the journey were 
 quickly made. 
 
 I am not about to dwell upon the details of that
 
 journey of some hundreds of iiiiies to the grent 
 Scotch tnanufacturing town which is situated a 
 short distauce from Glasgow. Suffice it to say 
 that I proceeded with all possible despatch, aud 
 that I reached my destination without any incident 
 worthy of mention. On my arrival in Paisley, 
 I immediately obtained a guide to carry my 
 box and conduct me to my aunt's address. He 
 led me to the outskirt of the town ; and indicat- 
 ingf a small but neat cottage-residence, which stood 
 isolated in a little garden, informed me that this 
 was my aunt's abode. As we appro:iched the 
 door, a young woman — evidently a servant-maid 
 — was issuing forth; and on perceiving me, ac- 
 companied by a man carrying a box, she at once 
 accosted me. I announced my name, and found 
 that I was expected. Then, in suspenseful 
 anxiety, I inquired after my aunt. The domestic 
 shook her head, and tlie tears started from her 
 eyes, as she faltered fortli a few words, which gave 
 me to understand that Mrs. Wakefield was still 
 living, but that there was little chance of her re- 
 covering. The doctor had just been ; and the ser- 
 vant-girl was hurrying to his surgery to fetch 
 some medicine which he was desirous that his 
 patient should at once take. 
 
 I bade the girl speed on her errand, and not 
 uselessly waste time bj tarrying to announce me. 
 The front door stood open : the porter deposited 
 my bus in tlie passage; and I began to ascend 
 the stairs softly. But I was now almost completely 
 overwhelmed by affliction. I pictured to myself 
 bow great would be the anguish of poor Henry at 
 losing that pfTectionate mother of whom he was so 
 fond ; while I myself -felt that a dear relative and 
 a valuable friend might be about to pass away 
 from me. I leant against the wall for support : — 
 alrea«iy exhausted by my long journey, I was now 
 well nigh crushed completely by mental excru- 
 ciation. 
 
 After thus pausing on the stairs for a few mo- 
 ments, I continued the ascent, and on reaching 
 the little landing on the first floor, my ear caught 
 the sound of voices. The door of the invalid's 
 cliambor stood partially open ; and it was from the 
 interior of this room that the voices emanated, 
 
 " Oh, mother ! dearest mother 1" I heard 
 Henry exclaim, with a burst of anguish, " do not 
 tell mc this— do not tell me that death is to se- 
 parate us so soon ! Oh, no ! such a calamity is too 
 frightful, my deat mother! — it is something too 
 dreadful for me to contemplate I" 
 
 " My poor boy," replied Mrs. Wakefield, iu 
 feeble accents, and with an indescribable mournful- 
 nes8 in her tone; "it is better that you should 
 know the worst at once, so that you may prepare 
 yourself for that which is inevitable. Listen to 
 me, my dear Henry I If your cousin comes not 
 ere the last breath wavers upon my lips, tell poor 
 Ellen that I bequeathed her my blessing — which 
 was all that I had to leave ber ! Tell her like- 
 wise, Henry, that in my last moments she was not 
 forgotten ; and that amongst my last words her 
 name was mentioned. I know that she is a steady 
 and good girl; and I feel convinced that in her 
 capacity of companion to Misj Norman, she is 
 eating the bread of honest industry. But she 
 dwells in a great city, Henry, which is full of 
 vices and temptations ; and were she no-.v present, 
 I should bosto.v upon her my last advice. Tell 
 
 her, dear Henry, that I should have enjoined hei 
 to cling to the simplicity of those habits which she 
 cherished when with us— to avoid costly apparel, 
 no matter how competent her means may be —to 
 attend regularly at a place of worship — and espe- 
 cially to avoid theatres aud all those places of 
 public resort But, Ah ! what is that ?" 
 
 So strong was the burst of anguish with which 
 my cousin Harry had first spoken -and so plain- 
 tively mournful was the voice in which his mother 
 had answered him— that I v;as transfixed to the 
 spot with the overwhelming agony of mv own 
 feelings. Then, as my aunt had begun to speak 
 of myself in terms so tender and so loving, I was 
 affected to a degree that I again leant against the 
 wall for support. The tears were raining down 
 my cheeks ; and though my sobs were at first in- 
 audible to those within the chamber, they wore 
 not the less powerfully convulsing me within my 
 own bosom. I listened to every syllable that fell 
 from the lips of my dying aunt: I was treasuring 
 up the precious counsel thus wafted to my car, 
 but of which she little thought that I was an 
 auditress; — and then all in a momept came that 
 one injunction which fell upon me like a blight ! 
 Searing, scathing, withering as a lightning- flash, 
 were those words which thus all in au instan'; car- 
 ried to my mind the horrible conviction that so 
 far from having a secret to tell which would give 
 satisfaction, the revelation thereof would fill with 
 anguish the heart of the perishing woman ! Au.l 
 then it was, too, that my convulsing sobs becatBe 
 suddenly audible to the inmates of tlie chamber, 
 and that my aunt's speech was br>)k.-:i off by an 
 ejaculation elicited by the sounds which from the 
 threshold of the half-open door abruptly smote 
 her ear. 
 
 I advanced into the room with tottering steps, 
 and with vision nearly blinded by the scorching 
 tears that were profusely pouring forth from my 
 eyes ; aud the next instant I was clasped in my 
 cousin Henry's arms. Then, in a few moments, I 
 was folded iu the embrace of my dying aunt; and 
 she wept over me. 
 
 I knelt by the couch: my cousin Henry knelt 
 by my side — Mrs. Wakefield bestowed her bless- 
 ings upon us. But her speech was feeble — her 
 utterance was painful— her words soon grew inar- 
 ticulate ; and. Oh ! they mingled with that unmis- 
 takable sound which once beard by any one pre- 
 sent at the departure of a fellow-creature to the 
 other world, never cau be forgotten ! It was the 
 death-rattle ! I had heard it before — I had hoard 
 it on that memorable night when my grandfather 
 died ; and I knew that no earthly power could 
 now refard the flight of my perishiug aunt's spirit 
 to the unknown mansions that lie beyond the gr.ive. 
 
 Full of indescribable anguish were my sobs as I 
 pressed her hand to my lips : but poor Henry — 
 he knew not that his mother was already dying! 
 Nevertheless he gave vent to passionate lamenta- 
 tions ; for he fancied she was very ill ; and rccoU 
 lecting that the girl had gone for the medicine, ho 
 suddenly started up, declaring that he himself 
 would speed for it, as he knew that it would do his 
 dear motlier good ! But at that very instant all 
 was over; and when witli a solemn and awful 
 feeling which now predominated over my intense 
 grief, I whispered to him that she was no more, 
 he seemed smitten with a terrific consternation.
 
 ELlEir PEECX; OB, THE MEIIOIES OF AN ACiaESS. 
 
 But I will not dwell upon this scene : it is one i 
 which I must leave to my readers to imagine, and 
 which I myself can never forget. Suffice it to say 
 that it was some time before Henry would believe 
 that his mother's vital breath had passed away be- 
 yond all human power of recall, and that he was 
 now utterly an orphan ! At length, when he could 
 no longer blind himself to the stupendous fact — 
 when he found that the last wild hope was indeed 
 gone — he gave not vent to lamentations ; but he 
 sank into a profound and silent grief. 
 
 The funeral took place : and during the five or 
 six days which intervened betwixt the death and 
 the sepulture, but little conversation took place on 
 the part of Henry and myself, though we were 
 almost constantly together. There was only one 
 topic which we could have touched upon : and on 
 this he would rather reflect than discourse. Oh ! 
 how deeply, deeply was my heart touched when at 
 times I beheld his gaze fixed in a sort of dream* 
 like stupor upon me, as if bis lips were about to 
 frame the question—" Is it all a dream ? or is this 
 thought which haunts me without ceasing and 
 hangs upon my mind with a leaden weight, — is it 
 a reality ?" 
 
 The funeral took place, I say; and when my 
 cousin had seen the remains of his beloved mother 
 consigned to the grave, he appeared to arouse him- 
 self to the consciousness of existence, and that his 
 existence had its duties. I had superintended all 
 the arrangements for the funeral ; for my cousin 
 had hitherto appeared incapable of anything that 
 was calculated to force upon his mind the conriction 
 of the loss he had sustained. And now he com- 
 prehended all that I had done; and he thanked 
 me fervently, while the tears rained down bis 
 cheeks. 
 
 On the day of the funeral, Mr. Macdonald, the 
 manufacturer in whose service Henry was em- 
 ployed, called at the cottage. He was a kind- 
 hearted man ; and he came not merely to condole 
 with Henry Wakefield on the loss he had sustained, 
 but likewise to inquire into his present prospects 
 and oEfer any assistance which he might be enabled 
 to afford. Mrs. Wakefield had lived upon an 
 annuity purchased by what little was saved from 
 the wrecks of her deceased husband's property; 
 and this annuity had consequently died with her. 
 It however transpired that she had managed by 
 dint of a rigid economy to save between two and 
 three hundred pounds; and this was all Harry's 
 heritage. Mr. Macdonald, though good-hearted, 
 was worldly-minded : he speedily entered upon 
 business-matters; and it was natural enough that 
 Henry should thankfully accept the counsel of one 
 who stepped forward as a friend. I was not pre- 
 sent at the interview: but my cousin afterwards 
 repeated to me everything that took place. 
 
 " I know," said Mr. Macdonald, " that change 
 of scene is indispensable for the mind after such a 
 bereavement as this, and that your feelings would 
 not recover their equilibrium so long as you remain 
 in a dwelling where everything recalls the memory 
 of the lost one. You are a good young man; and 
 though you have not been many months in ray 
 employment I have taken an interest in you. I 
 have affairs in New York which require the atten- 
 tion of a trustworthy person ; and I propose that 
 j-cu should proceed thither on my behalf. You 
 cau place your little capital in my hands ; and I 
 
 will lay it out for you to the very best alvuntaje. 
 I do not mean to hurry you asvay from Paisley, 
 nor to dictate to you. I merely proffer my counsel, 
 and to do that which I conceive best for you under 
 existing circumstances. Your cousin is staying 
 with you; but I believe, from what you have be- 
 fore told me, that she is in a situation enabliug 
 her to earn her own livelihood ?" 
 
 Henry replied in the affirmative ; and having 
 expressed his most grateful acknowledgments to 
 Mr. Macdonald, he said, " You wiU permit me to 
 consult my cousin before I give a decisive answer 
 in respect to the plan which you have so kindly 
 proposed for my benefit. Slie has been to me as 
 a sister throughout this trying period; and I 
 would do nothing without her complete concur- 
 rence." 
 
 Mr. Macdonald applauded Henry's suggestion ; 
 and he took his leave. My cousin then sought 
 mo, and recapitulated everything that had taken 
 place. 
 
 I must here for a few minutes interrupt the 
 thread of my narrative, to explain some of the 
 reflections that I had made since my aunt's death. 
 At first I was frightfully shocked at the bare idea 
 of having embraced a profession of which I now 
 saw that she could not have approved ; and I even 
 resolved to abandon it. But gradually my senti- 
 ments changed on this point. Though my heart 
 was full of affliction for the loss of that beloved 
 relative, I could not help thinking that she had 
 imbibed unfounded and unwarrantable prejudices 
 against that profession. I did not consider myself 
 imperiously called upon to surrender on that ac- 
 count a career which was already giving me fame 
 and a competency, and which would in time yield 
 me wealth ; and I likewise felt persuaded that if 
 my aunt had lived I could have succeeded in con- 
 vincing her that she entertained erroneous impres- 
 sions with regard to the life I had embraced. 
 Having passed all her years in provincial towns — 
 having been herself very carefully brought up by 
 her own parents— and entertaining strong notions 
 in respect to religion and religious duties — it was 
 not to be wondered at that she had conceived an 
 antipathy to the stage, — though during all the 
 time I had dwelt with her at Sheffield she had 
 never once suffered it to transpire. This was 
 doubtless the result of accident, inasmuch as the 
 secluded existence we led when I was there had 
 furnished no opportunity for the enunciation of 
 any opinion on the point. Therefore, as I have 
 just said, I conceived that it was a mere prejudice 
 on the part of my deceased aunt, and which could 
 easily have been overruled by the representations 
 I might have made. 
 
 The result of all this reasoning on my part was 
 a determination not to abandon a profession which 
 for me had become a sure and certain source of 
 subsistence, in order to plunge into the un- 
 certainties of other avocations. But now arose 
 the question— Should I reveal the whole truth to 
 my cousin ? On this point I knew not how to 
 act. I dislikea dissimulation; but it was equally 
 repugnant to my feelings to make a confession 
 that would shock his mind — perhaps add to the 
 bitterness of the affliction he was already ex- 
 periencing — and likewise render necessary an 
 argument for which his present mood was by no 
 means adapted. Hitherto I had breathed cot a syU
 
 lable on the subject; nor had the circumstances at 
 the death-bed been made the topic of discourse 
 between us. I was therefore undecided how to 
 act at the time when Mr. Macdonald called and 
 made the proposals which I have described. I 
 should here perhaps add that although Henry and 
 his deceased mother were acquainted with the fact 
 that I was living with a family named Norman, it 
 had evidently never struck them that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman were the well-known actors : and as 
 for Juliet, to whom they believed I was a sort of 
 companion, she had been publicly known only as 
 Mademoiselle Delessert. Besides, they seldom saw 
 the London papers ; and even when they did catch 
 a glimpse of them, they had been by no means 
 likely to study the theatrical intelligence. 
 
 I now return to the thread of my narrative. 
 Henry sought me immediately after his interview 
 with Mr. Macdonald ; and he told me all that had 
 taken place. I listened with the deepest atten- 
 tion ; and in conclusion he said, " Now tell me, 
 my dear Ellen, — how shall I act ?" 
 
 I deliberated without immediately responding 
 to his query ; and he proceeded to add with 
 mingled kindness and diflSdence, " But unless you 
 yourself, Ellen, are happy in your home in the 
 metropolis, I will not think of leaving this country. 
 No, not for worlds! This home shall be your's— 
 and it would be a pleasure for me to toil for us 
 both !" 
 
 " Believe me, dear Henry — believe me," I said, 
 with much emotion, "my home is a happy one 1 
 Let no thoughts on my account militate against 
 your interests !" 
 
 " Then I will go, Ellen !" answered Henry, 
 '•' because I have found a friend in Mr. Macdonald 
 — and the advice of such a friend must be followed. 
 And now forgive me, dear cousin, for what I am 
 
 about to say but that money which my poor 
 
 mother has left— it is your's, Ellen 1 do not 
 
 require it — it may be of service to you " 
 
 " Nor do I need it," I answered. " No, my 
 dear Henry— I have no use for such a sum. Yet 
 your kindness will never be forgotten !" 
 
 "Kindness, Ellen?" he exclaimed. "Are you 
 Bot to me as a sister ?" 
 
 Scarcely had he given utterance to these words 
 when an idea seemed to flash across him ; and he 
 was full of confusion. Doubtless he recollected 
 that we were but cousins, and that the feeling 
 which he entertained towards me was different 
 from that which a brother would cherish for a 
 Bister, — a feeling too of which he was now abruptly 
 made aware for the first time. And I also was 
 filled with confusion ; and I felt the blushes glow 
 upon my cheeks. 
 
 "There is something I would say to you, Ellen," 
 resumed Henry, in a faltering voice, ;is he took 
 my hand and pressed it ; " but after what has so 
 recently occurred in this house, it would be a de- 
 secration 1" 
 
 The tears rolled down his cheeks : but through 
 their dimness his handsome brown eyes looked 
 tenderly upon me ; and all his heart was revealed 
 as completely as if in the eloquence of language. 
 Again did the blushes glow upon my cheeks: I 
 was full of agitation and confusion ; and my hand 
 trembled in his own as he retained it in his clasp. 
 There was an instant when I was on the point of 
 proclaiming everything — the profession I had em- 
 
 braced, the fame I had already won, the brillianf; 
 prospects which were before me : but then a sud- 
 den revulsion of feelings took place— and I could 
 not give utterance to a syllable of such confession ! 
 I flung upon him a glance— a single glance — which 
 doubtless was as eloquent as his own looks had 
 been to me; and wo understood each other — wo 
 comprehended that there was a mutual love— our 
 hearts were completely revealed — yet not another 
 syllable on the tender topic came from his lips, 
 and no word descriptive of my sentiments had 
 fallen from my own tongue ! 
 
 When I retired to my chamber after this 
 scene, I again and again reasoned within myself 
 whether I had acted well in veiling the truth of 
 my profession from Henry Wakefield? But ngaiu 
 I asked myself wherefore I should distress hiia 
 with a revelation that would be premature ? Ho 
 was going forth into the world ; the range of his 
 experiences would become enlarged; as his grief 
 mellowed down into Christian resignation he would 
 gradually glide into the innocent recreations of 
 youth; and thus he would be brought to view the 
 worli in a new light. We should correspond with 
 each other; and I could gradually break to him 
 that which I dreaded to impart on a sudden. And, 
 Oh ! when he should come to learn that the 
 chaplet of fame encircled my brows, and that I 
 had achieved for myself a glorious repute and an 
 honourable renown amidst the great intellects of 
 the age, — and when at the same time he should 
 have the full conviction of my unblemished purity 
 and stainless character, — Oh ! would he not banish 
 all prejudice from his soul and feel exultant at the 
 success of her to whom his heart's fond love was 
 given? Yes: the secret must still be kept! — and 
 all the more so because that love of his was now 
 my choicest happiness : it should be to me as a 
 guide and a guardian— the angel of hope, soaring 
 in the atmosphere of my existence, and scattering 
 flowers from his brow and diamonds from his 
 wings upon the pathway of my life ! 
 
 Henry communicated to Mr. Macdonald the de- 
 cision at which he had arrived ; and he proposed 
 in another week to set out upon his Atlantic 
 voyage. During this week my cousin's afilictioa 
 took the soft melancholy aspect of resignation ; 
 and it was evident that the love he experienced 
 for me, and the consciousness of being loved in 
 return, had infused the precious balm of solace 
 into his soul. We walked out together daily; 
 and though our conversation settled not even for 
 an instant upon the one topic which moved our 
 inward hearts, — yet did we both seem to have tho 
 intuitive, the simultaneous, and tho transfusing 
 consciousness that we were both thinking on tho 
 same subject. If we wandered into the fields, 
 Nature itself soemed full of love, — love that was 
 wafted in the sweet melody of birds, infusing into 
 the heart a mild subdued joy as sweetly pure aa 
 the harmony itself, and etherealising every thouglit 
 and feeling, — love that was borne on the winged 
 fragrance of every flower which gave its perfumo 
 to the breeze, — love in that very breeze itself, as 
 it kissed the leaves of shrubs and trees,— and lovo 
 in the murmurings of tlie crystal streamlet as it 
 reflected the beams of day and glided betwixt its 
 flower-gemmed banks. 
 
 But at length the day— the hour— for separa- 
 tiou came. We Lad agreed to quit that cottaga
 
 ELLEN TEECT ; OR, THE MEM01E8 OF AIT ACTEE88. 
 
 at the saDje moment, — I to enter upon my jour- 
 aey back to the metropolis — Henry to repair to 
 his employer's establishment to receive the part- 
 ing instructions before he set out on his Atlantic 
 voyage. Yes — the moment of separation arrived ; 
 and as we looked at each other, we both compre- 
 hended that our hearts were making the strongest 
 efforts to keep back an outburst of the feelings and 
 avoid the aggravation of our mutual pangs. Then 
 over the quivering lips of the noble-hearted Henry 
 a soft smile broke ; and in the deep earnest eyes 
 — those handsome brown eyes which in my ima- 
 ginaUoa had elsewhere often looked upon me— a 
 high and holy lustre appeared to shine ; and never 
 upon female ear came a sweeter music of the mas- 
 culine voice than when he said, in a tone that was 
 nevertheless half-hushed and low, "Were it not, 
 Ellen, for the one hope that cheers me, I could 
 not eudure this separation !" 
 
 The tears started from my eyes ; and my hand, 
 which he had taken in his, was as tremulous as the 
 heart which was palpitating in my bosom. My 
 checks were blushing: but I did not cast down my 
 looks— fori had no false shame nor prudery in 
 acknowledging by those looks that I loved him, 
 and that his love was as much a sustaining hope 
 to me as it was to himself. 
 
 " Were it not, Ellon, that we are about to part," 
 he continued, " I would not so soon after my ter- 
 rible bei-eavoment address you in such a strain. 
 But, Oh ! I feel that my sainted mother is looking 
 down and smiling upon us now ! For of an even- 
 ing, when my work of a day was over, and we sat 
 together in this little parlour, she would often 
 say what happiness it would bo for her if she 
 could have both of us with her, and that you, 
 Ellen, should have no need to earn your own live- 
 lihood elsewhere, I did not then comprehend the 
 full meaning of my mother's words ; but now I 
 understand it all ! And thus, Ellen, in plighting 
 our faith to each other we are fulfilling a wish that 
 my deceased parent cherished; and there is no 
 harm in the language in which I am addressing 
 you." 
 
 "There is no harm, Henry," I murmuringly re- 
 sponded ; " and rest assured that your image shall 
 alone occupy my heart— and when you return to 
 England " 
 
 " Oh, Ellen !" he exclaimed, " the separation 
 though but for a few months, appears to be an 
 age !" — and it was like a broken outcry that his 
 voice thus sounded upon my ears, tremulous and 
 wild, and full of the mournfuUest music. 
 
 I endeavoured to give some consolatory re- 
 sponse : but my own voice was lost in the sobs 
 that were convulsing my bosom. 
 
 " May all possible happiness attend you, dearest 
 Ellen, while I am away !" he continued, in a softer 
 and more collected tone; "and when we meet 
 again, it may perchance be with a prospect of soon 
 being united, no more to separate. And then — 
 Oh ! then, Ellen, I shall become the guardian of 
 your happiness; and rest assured that it will be in 
 good keeping ! So far as that happiness depends 
 upon me, believe me— Oh! believe me that the 
 •corroding lines of sorrow shall never mar the 
 smoothness of that pupe brow of thine ; nor from 
 those sweet eyes shall word or deed on my part 
 ever call forth a tear. I feel, Ellen, as if my lips 
 had so many things to express that a new lan- 
 
 guage would be necessary to give them utterance. 
 The words which I can command are poor and 
 incomplete to form the blessings which my soul 
 yearns to invoke upon your head !" 
 
 " And I, Henry, send up my prayers to heaven 
 to invoke all its mercies on your behalf! Success 
 will attend you in your career," I continued, in 
 tremulous and broken accents ; " for one so good 
 and noble-minded as yourself cannot fail to pros- 
 per." 
 
 We were both weeping : I sank upon his breast 
 — and he bestowed the parting kisses upon mo. 
 We separated: — and it seemed as if a veil — a veil 
 of stupendous darkness—had suddenly fallen upon 
 my eyes and shut out the sunlight from my 
 vision. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 EMBLEDON. 
 
 Amidst the thoughts which occupied me during 
 the first part of my journey homeward, were the 
 recollections of the scenes which had taken place 
 just before I left Londan. I allude to the mar- 
 riage' of Juliet with Lord Frederick Rivenselifife, 
 and all the misgivings that had filled my mind ia 
 respect to Mr. Croft. Mrs. Norman had informed 
 me that he held the curacy of Embledon— a village 
 in Warwickshire; and I was to pass through that 
 county on my way back to London. I had in the 
 first instance resolved, when questioning Mrs. 
 Norman relative, to Mr. Croft, to make some 
 secret inquiries with regard to him ; and my 
 original idea was to take the earliest opportunity 
 of procuring some Clerical Directory or Q-uide and 
 searching for his name. But now that I was 
 about to enter the very county in which he was 
 represented as residing, I deemed it more expe- 
 dient to institute personal inquiries on the point. 
 My time was ray own — I had an ample supply of 
 funds ; and a waste of a few hours or the expen- 
 diture of a few extra pounds were matters of no 
 consequence to me. Besides, being in mourning 
 for my deceased aunt, I could not immediately 
 resume my theatrical engagement ; and thus I 
 was in no immediate hurry to get back to the 
 metropolis. 
 
 It was in the evening when I reached Birming- 
 ham; and having ascertained that Embledon was 
 about twenty miles distant from that great manu- 
 facturing town, I took up my quarters at a hotel' 
 for the night. On the following morning I entered 
 a chaise and set out for Embledon; for I should 
 observe that at the hotel I was unable to obtain 
 any information relative to the name of the minis- 
 ter holding the curacy of the village to which I 
 was now repairing. At the next town to that 
 village I renewed my inquiry — but still without 
 receiving an answer which might have the efftict 
 of preventing me from continuing my journey any 
 further in that direction. Embledon, it appeared, 
 was a small, isolated, out-of-the-way place; and all 
 that was known at the town to which I have just 
 alluded was that a new curate had been recently 
 appointed at the village, but his name I could 
 not learn. 
 
 I therefore continued my way to Embledon; 
 and in due time I obtained from the brow of a
 
 hill a glimpse of the little village, which was situ- 
 ated in the depth of a valley. It was embowered 
 in verdure : it did not seem to consist of more 
 than some twenty houses ; and above the wide- 
 spreading yew-trees the spire of the little church 
 peeped up. A rivulet meandered through the 
 viilafjo, and was crossed by a small bridge at its 
 entrance. Altogether the scene was picturesque, 
 as I thus caught the first view of it from the 
 chaise-window on the brow of the hill that the 
 vehicle was beginning to descend. 
 
 The road wound down into the valley, where it 
 crossed the rivulet by means of the bridge to which 
 I have just alluded. As the chaise approached 
 that bridge, I beheld an individual leaning listlessly 
 against the brick-parapet. Ho was dressed in 
 black — he was of tall stature : a thought flashed 
 to ray mind that he was the object of my visit; 
 and as he now slowly turned to look at the ap- 
 proaching equipage, I unmistakably recognised the 
 countenance of Mr. Croft. 
 
 I saw at the same time too that he recognised 
 me : and I was suddenly filled with contusion. 
 What explanation could I possibly give for my 
 visit to Embledon ? On this point I had not 
 reflected before ; nor had I many moments for re- 
 flection now, inasmuch as immediately on recog- 
 nising my face, Mr. Croft made a sign for the 
 postilion to stop ; and ho came up to the chaise- 
 window. 
 
 " Miss Percy," he said, in a voice which struck 
 me to be of constrained softness, while the affa- 
 bility of his rnanner likewise appeared to be forced, 
 — "I presume you have come to see me: for no 
 other object could possibly bring you to this out- 
 of-the-way place ?" 
 
 Thus speaking, he at once opened the door of 
 the chaise, let down the steps, and proffered his 
 hand to assist me to alight. 
 
 " You can go on to the public-house," he said 
 to the postilion, — thus taking upon himself a sort 
 of authority in the proceedings. " This young 
 lady has come to see me on particular business : I 
 will show her the way to the tavern when she 
 chooses to take her departure again." 
 
 All this was done so suddenly, and yet in such 
 a collected, business-like, off-hand manner, that I 
 was taken as it were by surprise ; and I yielded 
 mechauically to Mr. Croft's guidance. I therefore 
 descended from the vehicle, whi<;h immediately 
 drove awaj" ; and I remained alone with him upon 
 that bridge. He was dressed in black, as I have 
 already said ; and he wore a white cravat, — thus 
 far having the appearance of a clergyman: but 
 there was something slovenly in his toilet, and his 
 linen was not remarkably clean. Still I had no 
 doubt that he was really what he represented him- 
 self to be ; and now that I began somewhat to 
 recover from the confusion and bewilderment in 
 which the encounter had at first thrown me, my 
 next feeling was one of joy on Juliet's account. 
 
 "And now, tell me, Mies Percy," said Mr. Croft, 
 "what has brought you here? 1 hope no mis- 
 fortune nor accident has occurred to eitlier of 
 those whom I met the other day when you were 
 present. But this mourning that you wear " 
 
 " It is not for either of them," I answered : " it 
 is for a relative of my own :" — and the tears 
 trickled down my cheeks as the memory of my 
 deceased aunt was thus vividly conjured up. 
 
 " And might I inquire who this relative was ?" 
 asked Atr. Croft, as ho gazed intently upon ma 
 — yet not in a disrespectful luauuer ; but it was 
 rather with a mournful earnestness. 
 
 " My aunt — Mrs. WakeQeld," I responded. 
 "She recently died at Paisley— whence I have just 
 come." 
 
 Methought that Mr. Croft murmured some- 
 thing — but I co^lld not catch what it was ; and as 
 I contemplated his countenance, tho conviction 
 was once more strong in my mind that he <J.'as in 
 reality the stranger whom I had twice seen iit my 
 grandfather's house at Leeds, and of whose visit to 
 the late Mrs. Parks in Loudon I had subeequontly 
 become aware. 
 
 " And now tell me. Miss Percy," he continued, 
 " what has brought you to Embledon ?" 
 
 " "Will you tlrsb of all tell me, Mr. Croft," I in- 
 quired, looking him very hard in the face, " who- 
 tlier you ever saw me before you met ine the other 
 day at Lord Frederick Kavenseliffe's cottage in the 
 neighbourhood of Blackheuth ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Percy," he at once answered. "I 
 was in London some few weeks previous to that 
 occasion; and I beheld you make your debut in 
 the character of Portia. I know you therefore to 
 be that same Miss Traffurd who is already so 
 favourably known to the world." 
 
 This reply was given with an ingenuousness 
 wliich seemed so off-hand and so natural, that a 
 sudden change took place within me ; and I felt 
 convinced that I must be mistaken in supposing' 
 that Mr. Croft was identical with the stranger 
 whose presence had so excited my deceased grand- 
 fatlicr at Leeds, and concerning whom Mrs. Parks 
 had spoken to me in such disparaging terms. 
 
 " But why did you ask me that question i" 
 coiitiTiued Mr. Croft. " Surely," he added with a 
 smile, " you have not come all the way to Em- 
 bledon to put such a query ?" 
 
 " I feel the necessity of dealing frankly with 
 you," I now said, collecting all my thoughts for 
 an explanation which to a certain extent 1 saw 
 myself bound to give. " On the occasion when 
 we met the other day at the bridal ceremony, it 
 at once struck me that I had seen you before. In 
 my earlier years I lived at Leeds with my grand- 
 father, Mr. Forsyth ; and it was at his house that 
 I fancied I had thus seen you." 
 
 " 1 never wus a.t Leeds in my life," answered 
 Mr. Croft, with a countenance so unchanging, an 
 air so composed, and a manner so completely un« 
 ruffled, that I could not possibly disbelieve him. 
 
 '•It is therisfore evidently a. mistake on my 
 part," I said ; " and I hope you will pardon '-" 
 
 "There is nothing to pardon, Miss P.vcy," re- 
 joined Ml". Croft. " But on the other hand, you 
 may ? aturally suppose that my curiosity is now 
 somewhat excited " 
 
 "Then once more must I deal candidly with, 
 you, sir," I exclaimed, determined to tell the 
 truth : for indeed I saw no way of evading it. 
 " I beheld at Leeds that person to whom I have 
 alluded, and whom I mistook for you, under cir- 
 cumstances which led me to contemplate with 
 astonishment and mistrust the idea that he could 
 now possibly be exercising the duties of a minister 
 of religion." 
 
 " And therefore, Miss Percy," added Mr. Croft, 
 " you have come to Embledon to satisfy yourself
 
 jn the point. And you now find me here; and 
 that is the church where my duties are performed ; 
 and that little cottage of which you catch a 
 glimpse amongst yonder trees, is my humble habi- 
 tation. If I have not asked you to enter it, it 
 was through no want of courtesy, but simply from 
 a feeling of delicacy inasmuch as there is no lady 
 within those walls to receive you." 
 
 All this was said in a tone which conveyed a 
 sense of so much propriety as well as truthfulness, 
 that Mr. Croft rose higher than before in my esti- 
 mation, and I felt that I had outraged him by a 
 Euspicious identification with the individual whom 
 Mrs. Parks had represented at the time as an evil- 
 intentioned man. 
 
 " Your own good sense," continued Mr. Croft, 
 " will tell you that the mistrust you have enter- 
 tained with regard to myself, might act materially 
 to my prejudice if you have elsewhere mentioned 
 the suspicions that have so evidently brought you 
 to Einbledon. Observe ! I am not blaming you — 
 I can understand full well that a feeling of friend- 
 ship on behalf of the Normans-has induced you to 
 take this step " 
 
 " Oh ! believe me, sir," I exclaimed, " I have 
 been guarded on the point ! 1 am incapable of 
 wilfully inflicting an injury; and though I have 
 acted upon a suspicion, yet I have not imparted 
 it." 
 
 " I thank you for this assurance, Miss Percy," 
 replied Mr. Croft : " it is only what I should have 
 expected from one of your evidently generous dis- 
 position. — Ah ! and now I recollect, I left you in a 
 Bwoon at Lord Frederick's cottage. I was com- 
 pelled to depart hurriedly — immediately after the 
 ceremony ; and on the present occasion my Jlrst 
 question, instead of the last, ought to have been 
 in reference to the state into which your over- 
 wrought feelings had plunged you the other even- 
 ing ?" 
 
 I did not cbooae to inform Mr. Croft that the 
 Tery suspicion which now brought me to Emble- 
 don, was the one that had deprived me of con- 
 sciousness on the occasion of the bridal; and I 
 therefore briefly assured him that the indisposition 
 to which he had alluded was only transient. 
 
 " And now, Miss Percy," he said, " I will con- 
 duct you to the place where the post-chaise has 
 put up. But it is only a poor public-house, af- 
 fording no accommodation for a young lady, and 
 therefore my regret is all the greater that I cannot 
 invite you to partake of such hospitality as my 
 own humble habitation might afibrd." 
 
 I thanked Mr. Croft for his kindness — but as- 
 sured him that I neither needed rest nor refresh- 
 ment, and that I should at once set off on my re- 
 turn to Birmingham. He accompanied me to the 
 public-house, which was indeed as miserable a 
 place as he had described it, and which was situated 
 at the very entrance of the village, about a quarter 
 of a mile from the bridge. The only persons I 
 saw were a couple of dirty children at the door of 
 a cottage opposite — an old blear-eyed woman 
 throwing sand upon the floor of the diminutive 
 parlour in the public-house itself— and a still older 
 man (her husband) talking to the postilion, who 
 was partaking of some refreshment on a bench in 
 front of the miserable place. The old woman 
 however curtsied respectfully to Mr. Croft— the 
 old man rose and touched his hat ; and then the 
 
 ancient couple indulged in a good long stare a% 
 me. Mr. Croft took it upon himself to order the 
 postilion to harness the horses with the least pos- 
 sible delay ; and ho then conducted me into the 
 little parlour which the crone of a landlady had 
 been sweeping out. He conversed on general 
 topics; and all the while his voice flowed with 
 such softness that I never once caught a single in- 
 tonation to remind me of that rougher and harsher 
 voice which had belonged to the stranger for whom 
 I had taken this reverend gentleman. 
 
 In tea minutes the post-chaise was in readi- 
 ness : Mr. Croft handed me into it, and made a 
 courteous bow as it drove away. Perfectly satis- 
 fied with the result of my visit to Embledon, and 
 glad that I had paid it, I returned to Birmingham. 
 Thence I proceeded to London ; and on arriving 
 in Hunter Street, was most kindly welcomed by 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman. I had written to them 
 from Paisley to inform them of my aunt's death : 
 they were not therefore surprised to behold me 
 return in mourning ; and they proffered their con- 
 dolences for the loss which I had sustained. I did 
 not acquaint them with my deviation from the 
 direct route in order to visit Embledoa: there was 
 no need to mention the suspicions which had taken 
 me thither. I found them in better spirits rela- 
 tive to Juliet than when I had left London ; for 
 they had received letters from her, and these an- 
 nounced that her happiness was complete. 
 
 It had been given out at the theatre, in the first 
 instance, that my sudden absence was caused by 
 the serious illness of a relation ; and subsequently 
 it was stated that the death of this relative would 
 prevent my immediate return to the boards. I 
 learnt from the Normans that Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine had called twice to ascertain if intelligence 
 had been received concerning me; and two or 
 three days after my return, her ladyship's carriage 
 drove up to the door. Lilla, on being shown to 
 the drawing-room where I received her, embraced 
 me with every testimony of affection, and condoled 
 with me on my loss. She then proposed that as I 
 could not immediately return to the stage, I should 
 go and pass a few days with her. The invitation 
 was not altogether unacceptable : the Normans, as 
 I have already said, received a great deal of com- 
 pany and had many visitors ; I was as yet in no 
 frame of mind to mingle with society ; and at the 
 same time I did not wish to be a check upon the 
 usual pursuits of my friends. I therefore agreed 
 to Lady Lilla's proposal ; but I would not accom- 
 pany her in her carriage on that occasion : I pro- 
 mised to be with her on the following day or at 
 latest the day after. 
 
 My only reason for this delay was the necessity 
 of paying a visit to my milliner, and likewise of 
 making other purchases which the fact of my 
 being in mourning necessitated. These little mat- 
 ters were however settled more speedily than I 
 had expected ; and immediately after breakfast on 
 the following day I set out in the Normans' car- 
 riage for Claremont Villa. It was about eleven 
 o'clock when I reached my destination; and I 
 learnt that her ladyship, not expecting me thus 
 early, had gone out for a ramble. I was shown to 
 the chamber which I had occupied on the occasion 
 of my previous visit; and having put off my bonnet 
 and shawl, I descended to the parlour. Her lady- 
 ship had not as yet returned from her walk ; and
 
 ELLEN PEKCTJ OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AS ACTRESS. 
 
 I went forth into the garden to meet her when 
 she should re-enter. In case the reader should be 
 at all surprised at the circumstance of my revisit- 
 ing Claremont Villa after the incidents which had 
 taken place there on the previous occasion, let it 
 be remembered that all the disagreeable suspicions 
 which in the first instance were engendered hy 
 the supposed identity of the handwriting, and by 
 the incidents connected with the gipsies, had been 
 ultimately set at rest by a larger experience of 
 Lady Lilla's kindness and by a closer study of her 
 character. 
 
 I walked forth, I say, into the garden ; and not 
 perceiving Lady Lilla, I bent my steps in the 
 direction of the shrubbery — thinking that she 
 might return by way of the back gate leading into 
 the lane ; for the servant had told me that her 
 mistress had gone out in her summer hat and in a 
 morning deshabilUe. I therefore knew that she 
 could not have proceeded far ; and I concluded 
 "So. 11.— Ellvk Fbsct. 
 
 also that her stepe would be directed along tho 
 seclusion of the shady lane. Scarcely, however, 
 had I entered the shrubbery, when my ear caught 
 the sound of voices at a little distance ; and the 
 next moment a break amongst the trees revealed 
 to me the two persons who were thus discoursing 
 together. Let the reader conceive my astonish- 
 ment when I beheld Edwin St. Clair walking with 
 Lady Lilla Essendine ! 
 
 I myself was unperceivcd ; and I remained 
 rivetted to the spot whence I thus caught sight of 
 them. Her ladyship wore a large straw hat, as I 
 had been informed ; and her elegant morning 
 dress set off the exquisite symmetry of her shape, 
 although it fitted loosely to her form. Her coun- 
 tenance was towards me : I perceived that it was 
 flushed ; and that her cheeks, usually of alabaster 
 palenefls, had the vivid glow of excitement upon 
 them. Methought too that her large and beauti- 
 ful blue eyes were flashing fire from beneath the
 
 82 
 
 ELIEN PEECY; OB, THB MEM0IE3 OF AS ACTEE83. 
 
 rich brown iashes; and the pearly teeth were 
 gleaming between the lips that were wreathing with 
 Bcorn or indignation, or some other feeling power- 
 fully stirred. I could not immediately catch a 
 glimpse of St. Clair's countenance : but I heard 
 him say in a cold voice, which also had a tincture 
 of contemptuous iudiflference in its accents, '• Let 
 it be war then, Lilla, if you will : — and perhaps it 
 was absurd of me to think of offering you peace." 
 They passed on ; and the nearest group of trees 
 concealed them from my view. I was about to 
 retreat towards the villa, when they immediately 
 re-appeared ; and as they had turned to pursue the 
 contrary direction, it was now Edwin St. Clair's 
 countenance that was towards me, while that of 
 Lilla was averted. He was speaking in a low tone, 
 but vehemently. There was an animation likewise 
 upon his countenance ; and then all in a moment 
 it gave place to that expression of sardonic wicked- 
 ness which I had on former occasions seen sweep 
 over it. He gesticulated— he appeared to be 
 threatening. Lady Lilla stopped short : she drew 
 her tall form up to its full height ; and at that 
 moment nothing could exceed the imposing ma- 
 jesty of her appearance. The carriage of the well- 
 shaped head on its straight alabaster column, the 
 upheaving of the superb bust, and the entire atti- 
 tude of that shape with its sweeping length of 
 limbs, had something statuesque which reminded 
 one of the effigy of an ancient goddess. 
 
 "■you speak to me of peace or war," I heard 
 her say in the silver clearness of her half-scornful, 
 half-indignant voice; "and you think perhaps that 
 I am to express gratitude for the patronising lan- 
 gui^ge in which you have addressed me P No, 
 
 Edwin St. Clair ! The day has gone by " 
 
 Here they reached a distance which prevented 
 me from catching the remainder of the sentence : 
 they were pacing to and fro in that little open 
 space in the midst of the shrubbery ; and as they 
 again returned, another fragment of Lady Lilla'e 
 speech was wafted to my ear. 
 
 " Peace or war ?" she was exclaiming, in evident 
 reiteration of those words which from his lips had 
 rendered her so scornful and so indignant : " it 
 were well indeed to propose to me peace if I were 
 a coward, and if I trembled at any consequences ! 
 As for war, if you know aught of the character of 
 woman— if that bright intelligence of your's of 
 which, with all your affected disdain for the opinion 
 of the world, you are so proud— if, I say, by means 
 of that bright intelligence you have been enabled 
 to fathom the mysterious depths of the human 
 heart— surely, Edwin St. Clair, you must have 
 known that such an one as Lilla Essendine ■ " 
 
 Here again the speech was broken off so far as 
 my power of hearing was concerned ; and when 
 the two retraced their way, it was Captain St. 
 Clair who was addressing her ladyship. 
 
 " Nay, be it as you say, Lilla !" were the words 
 which my ear now caught. "Pursue this path 
 which you have sketched out for yourself! Frus- 
 trate me in all my designs " 
 
 "In your iniquities, Edwin!" ejaculated her 
 ladyship vehemently: and stopping short, she 
 looked him full in the face. 
 
 A scornful laugh rang forth from St. Clair's 
 lips : it was a laugh which resembled what ima- 
 gination might suppose to be the sardonic malice- 
 mirth of a fiend ; and though in itself vibrating 
 
 with the natural harmony of Edwin's voice, it 
 made me shudder and quiver all over. It was a 
 laugh which shocked and terrified my soul ! All 
 the human capabilities of mischief — all the evil 
 feelings and passions which could possibly concrete 
 in the heart of man — appeared to find expression 
 in that dread laugh. It was a horrible music, so 
 to speak — horrible as that which in Pandemonium 
 itself might ring forth a paean in praise of the 
 Prince of the fallen angels ! 
 
 Shocked, dismayed, and horrified, I retreated 
 from my hiding-place and re-entered the villa. At 
 once ascending to my own chamber, I sat down and 
 gave way to my reflections. Bitterly did I regret 
 my revisit to a dwelling where it seemed as if I 
 was ever to be perplexed and tortured by mysteries 
 that inspired me with a poignant curiosity as well 
 as with the most painful sensations. Again did 
 the suspicion — strong and almost irresistible — come 
 back to my mind that Lilla herself must really 
 have been the authoress of that fragment of a letter 
 which I had seen at St. Clair's house; for that 
 there was some stupendous and portentous secret 
 subsisting between those two, I could scarcely 
 have any doubt. And yet, on the other hand, the 
 scorn and indignation with which she had treated 
 him — the power which she seemed conscious of 
 wielding over hitn — the authority and the virtuous 
 hauteur with which she had corrected him in his 
 speech when she seemed to declare that it was only 
 his iniquities which she sought to frustrate, — there 
 were these circumstances, I say, which compelled 
 me to hesitate ere I came to the conclusion that 
 Lilla herself was a guilty being, the victim of St. 
 Clair, and only for tbis reason his enemy. 
 
 I was in the midst of my reflections, when 
 I heard light footsteps on the gravel-walk just 
 underneath the window, which was open; and 
 glancing forth, I beheld Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 She caught a glimpse of my countenance; and 
 her own becoming animated with joy (I had not 
 been able to observe what its immediately previous 
 expression was) she exclaimed, " Ah, Ellen ! I am so 
 rejoiced that you have come !" 
 
 I hastened down stairs, — making up my mind 
 to veil as much as possible whatsoever unpleasant 
 thoughts or feelings were agitating within me ; 
 and the next moment I was strained in her arms. 
 There was something so warm in her embrace — 
 something so cordial in the tone with which she 
 greeted me— something so ingenuous, sincere, and 
 frank-hearted in the joy which my presence ap- 
 peared to occasion her, that I was again prepos- 
 sessed in her favour ; and when once more alone 
 with my own reflections, they assumed a different 
 aspect from that which they had so recently worn. 
 " How can I believe this amiable and beautiful 
 creature to be stained with crime? It were a 
 terrible libel upon the whole sex to conceive that 
 such fearful guile could be harboured in so angelic 
 a form ! She could not have been the authoress 
 of that fragment of a letter. But I understand it 
 all ! Inasmuch as St. Clair is the nephew of her 
 deceased husband, she respects the memory of that 
 husband too much to make an open exposure of 
 her knowledge of the misdeeds, whatsoever they 
 may be, that have been perpetrated by Lis sur- 
 viving relative. Yet, on the other hand, she is 
 resolved to frustrate, to the best of her power, any 
 fresh iniquities on his part. And it was for thit
 
 ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 05 AN ACTRESS. 
 
 83 
 
 resson that she warned me against him ! Believ- 
 ing at the time my affections to be wavering 
 under the influence of his insidious power, she put 
 me on my guard against his unprincipled cha- 
 racter ! Nay, more !— well aware that he was 
 capable of any atrocity, she furnished me the 
 means of reducing him to abject submission ! 
 But, Ah ! those means !" 
 
 And then I thought of the mystery of the 
 flower ; and it vividly brought back to my recol- 
 lection the incident of the gipsies : so that my 
 thoughts were again becoming bewildered and 
 painful to a degree that was almost intolerable ; 
 and in order to escape from them I hastened to 
 rejoin Lady Lilla Essendine and the visitors who 
 were at the moment in the drawing-room. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE PHIAL IK THE PIIiiaSEE CABB. 
 
 Theee was company at dinner that evening. 
 Some of the guests were of very lively and cheer- 
 ful dispositions : but out of respect for my mourn- 
 ing garb, there was no music nor singing. The 
 evening however passed away pleasantly enough ; 
 and my mind felt relieved of the weight which had 
 been left upon it by the incidents of the morning 
 
 " My dear Ellen," said Lady Lilla, in the most 
 affectionate manner, as we were about to separate 
 for the night, the guests having taken their de- 
 parture, " I am sorry that these friends of mine 
 should have come this evening : for I meant you 
 to experience at the villa that quietude and tran- 
 quillity which the house of your friends the Nor- 
 mans could not afford. But they dropped in 
 casually, as you perceived — uninvited — availing 
 themselves of the license of intimacy " 
 
 " Pray offer no apology, my dear Lilla," I an- 
 swered : for her ladyship had insisted that we 
 should call each other by our Christian names. 
 " I do not consider that there is any harm in a 
 little innocent recreation ; and I confess that the 
 society I have met this evening has improved my 
 spirits." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it," answered her lady- 
 ship ; and having embraced me, she wished me a 
 good night's rest. 
 
 I ascended to my chamber, and began to disap- 
 parel myself. Lady Lilla had offered to place a 
 maid entirely at my disposal : but I was enabled 
 to dispense with any such services at my night- 
 toilet. I was therefore alone in my room ; and I 
 undressed slowly — for the thoughts of the morn- 
 ing came gradually stealing back into my mind. 
 At length I lay down to rest ; and sleep visited 
 my eyes. 
 
 How long I had slumbered, I knew not: but 
 as 1 gradually awoke, methougbt that sounds of 
 moaning or lamentation were being wafted to my 
 ears through the otherwise deep silence of the 
 night. This idea was at first vague and dreamy, 
 and seemed like the end of a vision that was slip- 
 ping out of my mind : but as I became more com- 
 pletely awake, the impression grew stronger. I 
 listened with suspended breath : there could now 
 be no farther uncertainty as to the reality of those 
 
 sounds. They were assuredly the meanings and 
 lamentations of one who seemed to be in deep 
 mental distress; and yet they were so faintly 
 audible that they would have been lost amidst the 
 various sounds which prevail in the day-time. It 
 was only now, in the profound stillness of tho 
 night, that they were thus perceptible to the ear. 
 
 I rose up to a sitting posture, and listened in a 
 sort of affright. The sounds ceased : I was reco- 
 vering my presence of mind— and was just saying 
 to myself that they must be the result of a dream 
 which, though forgotten, had left a certain im- 
 pression on my mind — when they recommenced. 
 What could be their cause ? from what quarter 
 could they come ? Lady Lilla's chamber was 
 situated on the opposite side of the landing, and 
 therefore exactly facing mine. The chamber 
 which intervened, in the front part of the house, 
 was a spare bed-room, and untenanted. There 
 was a back chamber on the same floor ; and this 
 was occupied by Lilla's lady's-maid. The other 
 servants slept upon the storey above. It certainly 
 might have been one of these domestics up-stairs 
 who was moaning and lamenting either in illness 
 or in a troubled dream : but still I was inclined to 
 fancy that it must be either Lady Lilla herself or 
 else her maid. At all events, I was determined 
 to ascertain; for these sounds continued. 
 
 Rising from my bed, I gently opened the door 
 and listened. The sounds were now somewhat 
 more audible; but still I could not distinguish 
 their source. I stole forth upon the landing, into 
 which the moonbeams dimly penetrated from the 
 staircase window ; and I listened at the door of the 
 maid-servant's chamber. I felt tolerably well 
 assured that the sounds came not from within 
 that room ; and I passed on with my naked noise- 
 less feet to the door of Lady Lilla's chamber. 
 Now the sounds were more audible ; and they de- 
 noted so much mental distress that I unhesita- 
 tingly opened the door. The wax-lights were 
 burning upon the toilet-table; the bed was unoc- 
 cupied ; the bedclothes were not disturbed : it was 
 evident that as yet her ladyship had not sought 
 her couch. Nor was she in the room. All this I 
 beheld at a glance. The next moment, however, 
 a side-door opened ; and Lady Lilla suddenly made 
 her appearance, — thus emanating from a place 
 which I believed to be her dressing-room, though 
 I had never been in it. I scarcely remembered 
 afterwards what was the expression of countenance 
 which she wore on thus abruptly coming into my 
 presence : but I fancied that it was a look of either 
 anger or affright, as if annoyed or terrified at 
 hearing her chamber-door open. But hastily 
 closing the door by which she had just emerged, 
 she exclaimed, " Good heavens, Ellen ! what is the 
 matter. Has anything disturbed yon? — have 
 I " 
 
 "Pardon this intrusion," I quickly responded; 
 " but I feared that you were ill. I heard sounds 
 of distress " 
 
 "Yes— I have been indisposed — indeed for a 
 short time I felt very very ill, and had a great 
 mind to call up the servants. But I am now 
 better; and I am truly sorry, my dear Ellen," 
 added Lilla afi"ectionately, " that I should have 
 disturbed you. I was in hopes that though I 
 myself was suffering, you were enjoying the sweeU 
 of slumber."
 
 81 
 
 :iXE5 PEiCT; OB, TffB KEMOrES OP AS ACTBESI. 
 
 " Ofa, whj did 70a not ■ammon me, LflU 7" I 
 peproariifially exdaimed. '^ It is kng paat mid- 
 nigfat," I eonUnned, glancing at the timqiieee 
 vhich VIS i^oQ tlie mantel of the degantly Cor- 
 vahed room; ''and joa haTe not jet been in 
 bed !"— for her ladjahip vas eompletdy d.caMid, 
 jost as die was when I had parted £rom her at 
 about half-past ten o'dodc 
 
 " I most hare eaten something that disagreed 
 with me^" die said : " bat I asnue joa that the 
 indiaposition is nov past. I fed mndi better." 
 
 ■ T ■ ; :k Terj pale, XiUa " 
 
 iA, EUen, I assure joa that I am 
 
 r - ^ 1! Betom to joor chamber, my 
 
 I can sa£el J p r umi se not to distnb 
 
 I 
 bei. 
 
 and retntning to n^ 
 
 Inimediatelj npon 
 
 I :r T £;d to LilU's 
 
 ; i.It. Ifoan* 
 ■ :rf. wb«nme- 
 
 -.zAti 
 
 part 
 
 d-: 
 
 bat I hare erer lored ingenioaB pieces of meefaaiw 
 ism of the deacriptum to vhieh I am alloding. 
 
 !nie dancing of the antomaton peasants waa 
 wont to eontiniie for some fisw minates after the 
 dock had finidird striking: and diece I stood ie> 
 garding them. While thus oeo^ied, my eyes 
 settled open a enrioas litde bottle which stood 
 dose by the do^ and which I did not remember 
 to have ever notieed before. It vas of the porest 
 crystal, exqnisitdy cot, and endoeed in alittle web- 
 like framework or filigree, of silrer beantifally 
 chased; and dssre was a cover of the same metal 
 orer the glass stopper. The phial, whidi was bardy 
 three inches in height was half fiiU ofa fliiid,dear 
 and eoloorles^ and looking indeed like the porest 
 water, althoagh I had no doobt that it was in re- 
 afi^ some dioiee perfome. In a wtxd, the ornament 
 was altogedier so beantifal that I coold not hdp 
 taking it 19 to inject it doaely — antil sodden- 
 ly reeolleeting tiiat I was intmding in a way that 
 m^fat now saroor of indiseretiaa, I rep l a ce d the 
 ornament opon the mantd, and glaaeed towards 
 die bed to see if LOla was stin dec^ng. Yes— she 
 : slnmbered on as sweetiy and seroidy as before: 
 ' the doming of the tim epi ec e had not distorbedhcr. 
 
 I ^'.Ided forth noisdesdy from the room— doaed the 
 i : r with all possible gentlenem— and retomed to 
 
 II - : ^Tt! chamber, well pleased at having mtisfifd 
 1^7 : lat Lady Lilla had evidently r ecovered 
 ; - 7 indijp jsition experimeed daring the 
 
 ■eatf4st.table,l did not 
 
 : } her room that 
 
 iisry. She now 
 
 1-: 'fiilad not to 
 
 :-■ --; 5 the night; 
 
 -t;_i. ;-:,_-" :_; i..^ii .: r3:>aning and 
 
 rsss iiad caiied me from mycooch and my 
 
 iz:ber. 
 
 '^■.■.''-. breakfast we wsDced together in the gar- 
 fir an hoar or two : we then entered the par- 
 ::^i :t work until londieoD tame. After 
 r rfreshmen^ we ascended to our le- 
 ers to dress for an airing in the 
 :oilei^ being simile— as I was in 
 ^: soon performed; and I was shoot 
 die room, when I heard hasty fbot- 
 u^b of steps approaching the door, at which some one 
 
 -;; ; j ^ ImnAflii in > qoigk ami eri-itpJ m«nni»r- I imme- 
 
 , diatdy answered the sommona ; and Lilla's lady's- 
 . r^aid, who hxAed Teiy pale and agitated, ex- 
 >:::ed, "For heaven's sake come qui^ Miss 
 --.:-•'. My lady is in a dead swoon!" 
 
 : f : to IdlU's chamber, and found her lying 
 
 ; 1 -^ r bed, slietched oat like a eorpee, and as 
 
 It subseqoently appeared that 
 
 .2 the midst tX. ha t<Mlet^ she had 
 
 -^^■z^\ with this fit; and on being 
 
 :3 the bed, she had become 
 
 L-c 
 
 L.ir L. 
 
 .itile salts — hartdion 
 
 exdaimed to the maid, 
 
 '.i'. in bewilderment. 
 
 - .1:5 ran for the siir« 
 
 , Swiss loreiiead,— bar; 
 7 part pillows. Then 
 _; - . i eddasmarfofe; 
 
 orders. I 
 
 ::55 LilU's 
 
 - with
 
 SLL£K PBRCr; OB, THE MEMOIES 05 A» ACTEBS3. 
 
 85 
 
 panied by another female domeBtic, bringing the 
 restoratives that I had asked for. In a few mi- 
 nutes Lady Lilla began to show signs of life ; and 
 she gasped painfully as the lungs resumed their 
 play, 
 
 " We require a more powerful restorative !" I 
 exclaimed. "This vinegar is poor! — these salts 
 have lost their pungency ! Surely there must be 
 something here ?" 
 
 I sped to the toilet-table ; but found nothing 
 that I thought of any use. 
 
 " In the dressing-room perhaps ?" I cried, now 
 hastening to that door whence I had seen Lady 
 Lilla emerge during the previous night. 
 
 "Dressing-room, Miss?" said the maid. "That 
 is not a dressing-room." 
 
 " Then what is it ?" 1 asked, in astonishment ; 
 and my fingers grasped the handle. 
 
 " I don't know. Miss," replied the maid. " I 
 have never been in it." 
 
 The handle had already turned in my grasp : 
 but the door itself was locked— and the key was 
 not in it. For a moment I was smitten with pro- 
 found surprise at the singularity of the young 
 woman's observation: but Lilla's condition was 
 such as speedily to absorb all other considerations. 
 She was recovering, it is true : but I saw the ne- 
 cessity of applying strong restoratives in order to 
 prevent a relapse before the surgeon should arrive. 
 I should here observe that a beautiful little 
 spaniel of the King Charles breed, and which was 
 a great pet with her ladyship, had found its way 
 into the room; and with that peculiar instinct 
 with which dogs are inspired, it was moaning near 
 the foot of the bed, as if it were conscious of an 
 approaching death. The circumstance alarmed 
 me ; and I saw the two maids exchange ominous 
 looks as if they thought that it was all over with 
 their mistress. 
 
 "Oh, for some powerful restorative!"! exclaim- 
 ed; "some strong perfume — some essence " 
 
 "There's lavender-water and there's eau-de- 
 Cologne on the toilet- table," said the lady's-maid. 
 
 " Something stronger !" I ejaculated ; and my 
 eyes swept around the chamber. " Ah ! I wonder 
 what this is P" — and I snatched up the bottle in 
 the filigree case from the mantel. 
 
 " I do not know what it is, Miss," responded 
 the maid. " I do not remember ever to have seen 
 it there before to-day." 
 
 " It is some strong perfume, I have no doubt," 
 I said. " It is hermetically fastened : it cannot 
 possibly have lost its power !" 
 
 While thus speaking, I was unscrewing the 
 silver top ; but this was by no means an easy task 
 •—for it fitted very tight, and did not appear to 
 have been recently removed. But in less than a 
 minute it was off; and then I endeavoured to take 
 out the glass stopper. This proceeding was equally 
 difficult; and for more than another minute I 
 despaired of effecting my purpose. Fortunately 
 however Lady Lilla was now rapidly recovering. 
 She opened her eyes, and gazed vacantly around 
 her. At that instant I succeeded in extracting 
 the glass stopper ; and I was on the very point of 
 applying the bottle to Lady Lilla's nostrils, when 
 Bhe seemed to give a sudden and violent convulsive 
 ■tart, so that by the quick movement of her arm 
 •he dashed the phial from my hand. 
 
 The glass was shattered to pieces; and Lady 
 
 Lilla Essendine fell back into a deep swoon 
 again. 
 
 " The excitement of recovery was too much for 
 her. Miss !" said the lady's-maid : " how convul- 
 sively she tosses her arms about !" 
 
 I now hastened to apply the lavender-water 
 and the eau-de-Cologne which I had previously re- 
 jected ; and in a few minutes Lilla again displayed 
 signs of life. Her recovery was slow, but gradually 
 sure ; and on regaining her consciousness, she en- 
 deavoured to say something to mo— for her lips 
 moved and she was visibly struggling for the power 
 of utterance. I implored her to be tranquil : me- 
 thought there was a strange wildness now succeed- 
 ing the vacancy of her look on first opening her 
 eyes this second time — but if so, it quickly passed 
 away, 
 
 " A thousand thanks, dear Ellen," she at length 
 feebly murmured, "for your kindness! But did 
 I dream ? or was there something broken ?" 
 
 " I deeply regret," I answered, " that tho 
 pretty little glass ornament should have been 
 destroyed. I thought it contained some strong 
 
 perfume But the silver case is safe !" 
 
 "Yes, yes — it did contain perfume !" interjected 
 Lilla. "Never mind the accident, Ellen. I feel 
 much better now:" — and she made an effort to 
 rise from her couch. 
 
 " Bemain here a little longer," I said : then 
 turning to the domestic who had accompanied the 
 lady's-maid to the room, I bade her sweep up tho 
 broken glass; for I had just accidentally trodden 
 upon it, while picking up the filigree case : and I 
 was fearful lest it might cut Lilla's flesh when she 
 should descend from the bed, as she had no shoes 
 on — only the white silk stockings upon her exqui- 
 sitely shaped feet. 
 
 The command was immediately obeyed ; and the 
 glass was swept carefully up. Lilla now bade the 
 two maids retire, as she wished to remain alone 
 with me. In a few minutes she rose and sat upon 
 the sofa. I gently inquired if she were subject to 
 such fits : hut she assured me that she had never 
 experienced one before; and then I recollected 
 that the maid had appeared too much bewildered 
 to be accustomed to scenes of this kind. I again 
 apologized for the accident in respect to the bottle : 
 but I pointed to the filigree case which I myself 
 had placed upon the mantel, and assured her that 
 it was uninjured. She begged me not to think 
 any more of the occurrence, for that it was a trifle 
 not worth an apology. In a few minutes tho 
 lady's-maid ascended to say that the surgeon had 
 arrived : but Lady Lilla declined to see him, de- 
 claring that she was now well enough to dispense 
 with his services. She thought that an airing 
 would do her good ; and we accordingly descended 
 to the carriage, which was in waiting. 
 
 Her ladyship was accustomed to take the pet 
 dog with her when riding out into the country : 
 but on reaching the hall, we observed that tho 
 animal was not following as usual. I now remem- 
 bered that it was in the bed-chamber during her 
 ladyship's swoon ; and I fancied that it must havo 
 been shut in there. I accordingly volunteered to 
 run up and fetch the little spaniel while Lilla en- 
 tered the carriage. On ascending to her chamber, 
 I called the dog ; but it did not make its appear- 
 ance. I was about to leave tho room, when my 
 eye caught sight of sonvrtJiing which was half con-
 
 86 
 
 ELXEN PKRCT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESg. 
 
 waJed by the drapery which hung around th« 
 hlitir paurt of the bed. I thruit it aside — and b«- 
 hM the poop dog lying dead. 
 
 A snatched it up to satisfy myself that life WM 
 indeed esticct ; and on finding that it was so, I 
 was greatly distressed ; for I knew what a fa- 
 vourite the little animal was with Latly Lilla Essen- 
 dine. Taking it with me, I descended the stairs, 
 and showed the dead animal to her ladyship. Al- 
 though I had expected that she would be much 
 afflicted, yet I certainly was not prepared for so 
 great an effect as that which the incident produced 
 upon her. Her naturally pale countenance became 
 60 deadly white that methought she was about to 
 swoon again ; and for several moments she gasped 
 as if battling co-vnlsively against the sensation of 
 returning faintnt,■^.3. I quickly gave her a bottle 
 of volatile salts, which I had brought with me as a 
 precaution; and it suddenly seemed to revive her. 
 She however insisted on seeing the poor dog buried 
 under a rose-tree in the garden before we set out 
 for our drive ; and this was speedily accomplished 
 by the footman. 
 
 Tor the remainder of that day Lady Lilla con- 
 tinued dull and languid ; and when night came I 
 begged that she would permit me to sleep with her, 
 or that she would allow her maid to occupy the 
 sofa in the room. But she would not accede to 
 cither of these requests, and all I could elicit from 
 her was a promise that she would not hesitate to 
 call me if she felt the least indisposed during the 
 night. 
 
 When alone in my own chamber, I remembered 
 for the first time since the occurrencfe of the inci- 
 dents, that strange answer which the lady's-maid 
 had given me in respect to the place adjoining her 
 mistress's chamber, and which I had until then 
 fancied to be a dressing-room. As I have already 
 said, I had on a few previous occasions been in 
 Lady Lilla's chamber, but never in that little inner 
 room : nor did I recollect that I had ever once 
 seen the door open except during the preceding 
 night when LiUa emerged thence. But then I had 
 not so much as caught a glimpse of the interior of 
 that room, for she had immediately closed the door 
 behind her. Without being at all prone to attach 
 undue importance to events that might be trivial, 
 nor to envelope them in a mystery suitable only 
 for the pages of a romance, — I nevertheless could 
 not help thinking that there was something strange 
 in the fact that Lilla's own maid should not have 
 access to a place that would at least want occa- 
 sional sweeping and cleansing, even though it was 
 without an article of furniture. I have spoken of 
 it as a little room, because by the configuration of 
 the house and the position of the adjacent chambers 
 (Lilla's and the spare bed-room) I could form a 
 tolerably accurate idea of its dimensions. It was on 
 the side of the house, and had a window at which 
 I remembered to have observed from the outside 
 that there were red curtains with broad yellow 
 binding. With such handsome draperies it was 
 scarcely to be supposed that the little room was 
 otherwise unfurnished ; and therefore if it were 
 furnished, did it not require the occasional care of 
 a domestic P 
 
 These questions I asked myself; and trivial 
 though they may seem, they nevertheless bewil- 
 dered me. I liked Lady Lilla — I may say that I 
 loved her ; for she was a sister in her kindness to- 
 
 wards me. How I hated, therefore, all these myi- 
 teries, great or insignifioant, which at crery point 
 appeared to invest the circamstanoes attending 
 her! But still I thought to myself I was foolish 
 to attach such importance to this new mystery of 
 the room which always remained locked : for who 
 could tell but that the solution thereof, if known 
 to me, would be as simple as that of the riddle 
 which puzzles one for a moment, but which when 
 solved, makes one almost angry with one's-self for 
 not having guessed itP Perhaps that room was a 
 sort of sanctum where Lilla kept valuable jewels or 
 family relics, which she did not choose to be inter- 
 fered with or inspected by her servants P Still my 
 curiosity was piqued; and while again wishing 
 that no mystery of any kind attached itself to a 
 being in whom I felt so deep an interest, I sank 
 into slumber. 
 
 A week passed without any incident worthy of 
 the slightest note ; and during this interval Lady 
 Lilla Essendine recovered her wonted health and 
 spirits. But before I continue the thread of my 
 narrative, I should remark that we had discoursed 
 together on the death of the favourite little dog; 
 and Lilla expressed her belief that the instinct of 
 the faithful animal had made it aware that she was 
 in a very dangerous state at the time, and that it 
 had died of sheer grief. She opened a volume of 
 natural history to illustrate her argument by seve- 
 ral extraordinary instances of canine fidelity ; and 
 I therefore arrived at the same conclusion as that 
 which she had already formed. 
 
 I have said that a week passed since her lady- 
 ship's illness; and during this period I called upon 
 the Normans, who had received fresh letters from 
 Juliet. . There was likewise one for me; and the 
 tenour of all of them argued most favourably for a 
 belief in her perfect happiness. I called likewise 
 upon Melissa Harrison, whose health was by this 
 time somewhat improved, — though she despaired 
 of complete recovery ; and she was forbidden the 
 hope of returning to the stage. I compelled her 
 to accept pecuniary succour from me ; and nothing 
 could exceed the gratitude of the unfortunate 
 young woman. 
 
 The incident which I am about to relate, oc 
 curred during the night of the day following my 
 visit to Miss Harrison. Lilla and I had dined 
 alone together; and a little before eleven o'clock 
 we retired to our respective chambers. I soon fell 
 ■asleep ; and my slumber, as it subsequently trans- 
 pired, had lasted about two hours when I was 
 startled up by that alarm which next to the cry of 
 " Murder !" is the most terrible ot all cries : 
 namely, that of " Fire !" For a moment I thought 
 it must be merely a v«-ild dream : but the next in- 
 stant that hope was banished ; for there was the 
 quick rush of footsteps overhead— and the voice of 
 the lady's-maid was shrieking forth the dire alarm 
 upon the landing. I rushed from my chamber ; 
 and at the same moment Lady Lilla Essendine 
 made her appearance on the other side. The ter- 
 rible truth was quickly ascertained ; the draperies 
 of the lady's-maid's bed were in a blaze : the foolish 
 young woman had been reading by candle-light— 
 and had fallen asleep, only to awake to find her 
 room in a conflagration ! 
 
 The men-servants, having huddled on a few 
 clothes, rushed to the burning chamber in the 
 hope of extinguishing the fire : but they quickly
 
 ELLEK PBECT; OB, THE MEM0IS3 OB AS ACTEES8. 
 
 87 
 
 announced that the attempt would be vain — for 
 that the flames had caught the ceiling. It there- 
 fore became necessary for every one to think of 
 safety ; and never perhaps in all my life were my 
 own garments more expeditiously put on. The 
 same was the case with Lady Lilla Essendine, as 
 well as with the other inmates of the house; and 
 then began a scene of indescribable bustle, not un- 
 mingled with confusion. I rushed down into 
 the garden, with my writing desk containing my 
 jewels : Lady Lilla had also possessed herself of 
 her own valuables of the same description. One 
 of the men-servants had rushed off to fetch the 
 nearest fire-engine : the other was busily employed 
 in getting the horses and carriages out of the 
 stables. The female servants were bringing forth 
 all portable articles of furniture, ornaments, 
 nick-naeks, and plate, from the ground-floor apart- 
 ments. Two or three policemen were speedily 
 upon the spot ; and they rendered most efBcient 
 assistancfe in carrying out the furniture upon the 
 lawn. 
 
 The upper part of the house was speedily in a 
 blaze ; and it was a considerable time before the 
 fire-engines arrived. Many gentlemen from the 
 villas in the neighbourhood came to the spot ; and 
 we received the kindest offers of hospitality. As 
 for the maid who was the cause of the accident, 
 she was a prey to so wild a grief that she could 
 scarcely assist in bringing out such articles as it 
 was possible to save. 
 
 When the engines came they began playing 
 vigorously upon the conflagration; for as there 
 was a well in the coach-house an ample supply of 
 water was afforded. The wind was in such a 
 direction that the flames were carried chiefly to- 
 wards the point where my chamber had been 
 situated, — though Lady Lilla's was also on fire. 
 But still it was the first-mentioned part of the 
 dwelling which suffered first, and likewise most 
 — as will presently be made apparent. Her lady- 
 ship, I should observe, displayed the utmost pre- 
 sence of mind ; and we both of us helped in re- 
 moving the articles in the ground-floor rooms, 
 until the fire spreading thither rendered it im- 
 possible to return into the devoted edifice. 
 
 Several of those neighbours— who, as I have 
 already said, made their appearance upon the spot 
 —pressed her ladyship and me to retire from the 
 scene and seek refuge in one of their houses. But 
 the autumnal night was not cold enough to compel 
 us to follow this counsel ; and as Lady Lilla per- 
 sisted in remaining in the garden to see the issue 
 of the calamity, I of course kept her company. 
 Three engines had arrived: but they came too late 
 to save the villa from an almost complete destruc- 
 tion. For two hours did the conflagration last — 
 the flames during the second hour battling as it 
 were against the jets of water for the mastery. 
 The fire spread to all the outhouses ; and at one 
 time the heat was so intense that the lookers-on 
 were compelled to retire to a considerable distance. 
 At length the devouring element was subdued in 
 every point except in Lilla's own chamber and the 
 room above it, from the windows of which the 
 lambent fire was still gushing forth. All of a 
 sudden there was a tremendous crash : a dense 
 volume of black smoke rolled upward: the roof 
 had fallen in — the fire was crushed. The engines 
 however continued to play for some little while 
 
 longer upon the ruined building, until the firemen 
 were satisfied that their labours were no longer 
 necessary. 
 
 It was too dark for us to discern the full extent 
 of the damage wrought ; and now Lady Lilla no 
 longer refused the proposal that we should take 
 refuge elsewhere. Several offers of hospitality 
 were made us, as I have already stated : but her 
 ladyship selected that of the gentleman to whom 
 the nearest villa belonged;— and thither we re- 
 paired. Without entering into any unnecessary 
 particulars, suffice it to say that by this gentleman 
 and his wife (an elderly couple without any family) 
 we were treated with the utmost kindness; and 
 accommodation was likewise afforded to her lady- 
 ship's three female domestics, — the men-servants 
 proceeding with the horses to the York and Albany 
 Tavern at Camden Town, 
 
 Although I retired to rest, I could not close my 
 eyes in slumber, so great was the excitement which 
 I experienced. Therefore, having for some three 
 or four hours tossed sleeplossly upon my pillow, I 
 rose and dressed myself. The house where we had 
 found such hospitable refuge, was only about two 
 hundred yards from Claremont Villa ; and I issued 
 forth to visit the ruins. Thinking that Lady Lilla 
 Essendine had nut as yet left the chamber which 
 had been assigned to her, I did not inquire for her 
 —but proceeded alone to our recent habitation, 
 A police- officer was there in charge of the nume- 
 rous articles of furniture which had remained 
 upon the lawn ; and the gardener was contemplat- 
 ing the spectacle of the ruins with a rueful coun- 
 tenance, I beheld no other persons : but the gar- 
 dener hastened to inform me that Lady Lilla 
 Essendine had just passed in amidst the scene of 
 devastation. 
 
 I sped to join her — and quickly crossed the 
 threshold of the doorway, from which the door 
 itself had been burnt down. The outer walls 
 were standing — some of the partition walls like- 
 wise : but the greater portion of the floors and 
 roof were consumed or had fallen in. Nearly 
 every window was burnt out : and I could not help 
 shedding tears at this first glance at the wreck 
 and skeleton of a dwelling which a few hours back 
 was so elegant and perfect in all its appointments. 
 I may here observe that Lady Lilla's furniture 
 was insured to its full value : the house was a hired 
 one, and likewise insured; so that in a pecuniary 
 sense her ladyship had no reason to apprehend 
 any loss. 
 
 I entered amongst the ruins, and speedily dis- 
 covered Lilla. She was standing in the midst of 
 a ground-floor apartment which had served as the 
 dining-room, and precisely above which her own 
 chamber had been situated. She was motionless 
 as a statue, gazing upward through a vast aper- 
 ture in what had been the ceiling of the diniug- 
 room and consequently the floor of the bed- 
 chamber. She did not immediately become aware 
 of my presence ; and I mechanically looked up in 
 the same direction towards which her own eyes 
 were raised, I could scarcely repress an ejacula- 
 tion when all in a moment the mystery of that 
 little room which had joined her own chamber 
 was revealed. For the door had been burnt out 
 of its setting; the-floor in the immediate vicinage 
 existed no longer ; and a large portion of the wall 
 of the inner room itself bad fallen. Everything
 
 63 
 
 ElLEir PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIKS OP AH ACT*a9«. 
 
 ia that room could be distinctly discerned ; the 
 devouring element had exposed that which my 
 own conjectures never could have fathomed if I 
 had lived for a thousand years ! 
 
 That little room concerning which I had so be- 
 wildered myself with surmises, had been elegantly 
 fitted up as an oratory, or private chapel, with all 
 the appurtenances suitable to the Boman Catholic 
 faith. There was an altar, surmounted by a 
 crucifix : there were tall silver candlesticks— but 
 the candles that were in them (if any at the time) 
 had as a matter of course melted away by the 
 heat of the fire. In front of the altar there was a 
 footstool of crimson velvet ; and a rosary was sus- 
 pended against the wall. There had evidently 
 been several small pictures in that room : for the 
 frames were still hanging there, though the canvass 
 was scorched out of them. The flames themselves 
 had however scarcely touched the interior of the 
 little chapel — as was evident from the state of pre- 
 servation in which were the appointments that I 
 have enumerated. 
 
 My surprise was great ; though the solution of 
 the mystery relative to that little room was, after 
 all, simple enough. I knew that Lilla was a 
 Eoman Catholic : but I could not possibly have 
 suspected her to be such a devotee to her creed as 
 to h ive a private oratory in her dwelling for her 
 own special devotions. At the same time it was a 
 circumstance which made me think all the better 
 of her : for though myself a Protestant, yet I 
 could not do otherwise than respect the strong 
 religious feeling conscientiously experienced by 
 another. 
 
 For some minutes did I gaze up at that oratory 
 which the conflagration had laid bare rather than 
 destroyed, and which indeed the flames had spared 
 more than any other portion of the building. Her 
 ladyship at length became aware of my presence ; 
 and she started on perceiving ine. But the next 
 instant she took my hand with her usual kindness, 
 — saying, " You have come, like me, my dear Ellen, 
 to gaze upon the ruins of that which was so re- 
 cently a pleasurable dwelling !" 
 
 " I did not know that you were here," I an- 
 Bwered somewhat confusedly; "or else I should 
 not have intruded " 
 
 "It is no intrusion, my dear friend," she re- 
 sponded : and then with a look of solemn awe, 
 and even methought with a species of vague terror, 
 she added, " Look ! the fire has spared that place 
 of private worship. Is it not miraculous? is it 
 not a sign——" 
 
 But she stopped short; and I gave no answer. 
 I did not choose to ofiend her prejudices or wound 
 her religious feelings by explaining that what she 
 regarded as a preternatural marvel was nothing 
 more than the result of accident — the wind havinj 
 blown in a particular direction, and thus spared 
 that end of the building until it was not too late 
 for the fire-engines to rescue the interior of the 
 oratory from complete destruction. 
 
 " You must not think, Ellen," continued Lady 
 Lilla, who during a brief interval of pensiveness 
 did not seem to notice that I had given no answer 
 to her previous observation—" you must not think, 
 Ellen, that I am ashamed of the creed in which 
 I have been brought up and to which I cling: but 
 even in this most enlightened country there are 
 prejudices— and if it were known that contiguous 
 
 to my own sleeping-chamber I had a place of 
 worship thus fitted up "—and she glanced towards 
 the oratory — " the servants would make it a sub- 
 ject for their idle gossip— the neighbours would 
 talk ■■ In a word, Ellen," added Lilla, hastily, 
 " you must agree with me that it waa better to 
 have maintained all that privacy 1" 
 
 I was spared the necessity of giving any an- 
 swer, as well as the embarrassment of remaining 
 silent, by the appearance of the gardener amongsc 
 the ruins : but upon observing us both together, 
 and fancying that we were in earnest discourse, 
 the man was about to retire. Lady Lilla however 
 bade him remain ; and she ftt once proceeded to 
 issue certain orders. 
 
 " Procure a ladder and a trunk without delay," 
 she said : " place in the trunk whatsoever articles 
 you consider to be worth saving :" — and she 
 pointed towards the oratory. " The table which 
 is covered by the cloth" — thus alluding to the 
 little altar—" you can likewise bring down. Do 
 all this immediately ; and — and — it is by no means 
 necessary to gossip amongst your companions con- 
 cerning these things." 
 
 Thus speaking. Lady Lilla placed a sovereign 
 in the gardener's hand ; and we quitted the ruins 
 of Clare mont Villa. 
 
 It happened that in the very same neighbour- 
 hood a newly-built, commodious, and pleasantly 
 situated house was to let; and in the course of 
 that day Lady Lilla Essendine took the lease of it. 
 Instructions were at once given to her upholsterer ; 
 and in the evening of the third day after the con- 
 flagration of one dwelling we partook of our first 
 dinner in another. I had at the outset offered to 
 return to Hunter Street, for fear lest my presence 
 should be embarrassing to her ladyship in making 
 her new arrangements: but she had begged me to 
 remain with her ; and the worthy couple who had 
 aflbrded us an asylum, overwhelmed us with as- 
 surances that they were only too glad of our com- 
 pany to be anxious to part from us. I had there- 
 fore remained, as I have said, in her ladyship's 
 company ; and on removing with her to the new 
 home, I rendered all possible assistance in placing 
 the house in proper order. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 THB BBUIB-TAKBB. 
 
 A POETSIGHX passed after Lilla's installation in 
 her new residence ; and I was now to bid her fare- 
 well. Juliet had returned to Hunter Street, the 
 Continental trip with her husband being over; 
 and according to previous arrangement, as I have 
 already informed the reader, she still passed as 
 Miss Norman instead of adopting her title of Lady 
 Frederick Bavenscliffe. 
 
 I took an affectionate leave of Lilla, promising 
 to visit her again shortly ; and on reaching my 
 home— as I considered the Iformans' house to be— 
 I was delighted to find Juliet in the best possible 
 spirits, and also looking most superbly handsome, 
 with the glow of health and happiness on her 
 cheeks. The separation from Lord Frederick wat 
 compensated for by the pleasing novelty of finding 
 herself once again beneath the paternal roof; and
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS, 
 
 89 
 
 besidcB, it was agreed that the young nobleman 
 should visit her as often as prudence would permit. 
 "When we were alone together, she assured me that 
 nothing could exceed the affectionate tenderness 
 and devoted love with which Lord Frederick had 
 treated her ; she had every proof of his amiable 
 disposition and goodness of heart; and with all the 
 gushing enthusiasm of her soul's most impassioned 
 feelings, she sketched forth plans for the future, 
 and spoke in rapturous prophecy of the unalloyed 
 bliss that would be her's when the time should 
 come that the marriage might be proclaimed to the 
 world. 
 
 Another week was yet to elapse before the date 
 at which I had undertaken to make my reappear- 
 ance upon the boards; and in the meanwhile Mr. 
 Eichards, with the true enterprising spirit of a 
 manager, had purveyed other attractions for the 
 public. Amongst these — or indeed, I ought to 
 baj, the principal one consisted of an exhibition 
 Jfo. 12.— Ellex Peect. 
 
 of wild beasts in the care of a brute-tamer. The 
 brute-tamer called himself Captain Chalmers of 
 the Bengal Native Cavalry ; and he had published 
 a book crowded with the most wonderful exploits 
 and adventures in respect to wild beasts, enormous 
 serpents, alligators, and crocodiles. Of all theso 
 startling narratives he himself was the hero; and, 
 according to bis own account, no human life bad 
 ever passed scathless through so many hideous 
 perils and horrible dangers as his own. How 
 often had he escaped from the fangs of ravenous 
 tigers or from the coils of monstrous snakes in the 
 jungles of Hindostan ! To how slender a thread 
 had his existence frequently hung when menaced 
 by huge anacondas amidst the luxuriant foliage of 
 Ceylon! — what frightful nocturnal adventures had 
 he experienced with black panthers in Java 1 — 
 and how desperate were the combats which he had 
 waged with lions at the Cape of Good Hope ! Oa 
 the banks of the Nile his agility in circuitous
 
 »0 
 
 BIXEK PEECT ; OB, XHE MEMOIES OF JlN ACXEE8S. 
 
 running, or else his wondrous skill in aiming with 
 the rifle at so small an object as a crocodile's eje, 
 had saved him over and over again from affording 
 a meal to the rapacious reptiles of that species; 
 and in the backwoods of America he had led huge 
 shaggy bears such a dance up and down trees that 
 he had well wearied them out before he ended the 
 sport by means of the trusty rifle which had so 
 often stood him in good stead. In a word, the 
 volume which he had published, and of which his 
 bookseller had sold many thousands, was well cal- 
 culated to throw the startling adventures of that 
 veracious nobleman, Baron Munchausen, completely 
 into the shade. 
 
 All this did very well for the public ; and Mr. 
 Eichards, the lessee, was rewarded by crowded 
 houses for the enterprising spirit which had in- 
 duced him to engage the services of Captain Chal- 
 mers. Beneath the surface, however, there were 
 some little secrets which were known to Mr. 
 Eichards— and which Mr. Eichards whispered over 
 a confidential glass of port to Mr. Norman— and 
 which Mr. Norman mentioned in an equally con- 
 fidential way within the range of his own family 
 circle. Truth therefore compels me to add that 
 Captain Chalmers was no captain at all, and that 
 in former times he had passed under other names, 
 so that it was not a very easy matter to determine 
 which was his proper one. As for his marvellous 
 adventures, they had existed only in the imagina- 
 tion of some poor author who for the sum of fif- 
 teen pounds sterling had compiled the book in the 
 reading-room of the British Museum. That Cap- 
 tain Chalmers — as I must continue to call him — 
 was however a famous brute-tamer was an un- 
 doubted fact ; and that he ventured into the cage 
 containing ten or a dozen beasts of the savage 
 kind, was a feat witnessed nightly by crowded 
 houses. 
 
 On the last evening of the Captain's engagement 
 at the theatre, I agreed to accompany Juliet —who, 
 as the reader will recollect, had retired from the 
 stage previous to her union with Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were engaged 
 to appear in the piece that was expressly written 
 for the introduction of the famous brute-tamer ; 
 and they therefore could not join us in the stage 
 box which Mr. Eichards had placed at our dis- 
 posal. Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe however ac- 
 companied us; and on taking our seats in the 
 box, we found that the house was as well filled as 
 on the nights of my own performance. But my 
 pride was not at all wounded by this circumstance : 
 for my own good sense told me that the theatrioal- 
 going public, as well as the individual, must have 
 a variety of pleasures, and that it is in this very 
 variety the chief enjoyment of them consists. 
 Nevertheless, I have seen actors and actresses— 
 the most eminent of their profession — who have 
 felt themselves bitterly galled and even been ready 
 to weep like children, at finding that wild beasts, 
 or horsemanship, or exhibitions of dwarfs or 
 giants, have drawn houses as good as their own 
 performance. But on these and other theatrical 
 subjects I may perhaps have more to say in the 
 progress of my narrative. 
 
 In due course the scene arrived in which Cap- 
 tain Chalmers was to appear with his tamed 
 beasts. "When the curtain drew up, it disclosed a 
 cage of considerable dimensions, standing upon the 
 
 stage. It had stout iron bars, and appeared strong 
 enough to serve as the prison-house for the ani- 
 mals it contained. These consisted of a tiger, a 
 bear, a hyena, a lion, and six or seven other 
 beasts the names of which I have forgotten. The 
 Captain himself was a singular-looking man, and 
 far from prepossessing. He had a bullet-shaped 
 head, with a stock of black hair which gave him 
 the effect of wearing a wig. His form was mus- 
 cular and well-knit ; and his countenance ap- 
 peared to have an expression of the most reso- 
 lute firmness. His principal garment was a close- 
 fitting doublet, or jerkin: his arms were bare; 
 and by their size seemed to be very powerful. I 
 should add that he wore a short dagger in his 
 belt. 
 
 I need not enter into any particular details to 
 describe by what dramatic fiction the brute-tamer 
 was introduced upon the scene. Sufiioe it to say 
 that it was an oriental piece, the imagination 
 being led to suppose that the adventures passed in 
 India, where an English ofiicer, represented by 
 Captain Chalmers, was audacious enough to aspire 
 to the hand of a great Eajah's daughter. This 
 Eajah swore that the daring suitor should become 
 food for his wild beasts ; but he was also led to 
 vow that if by any happy chance the hero passed 
 unscathed through the dread ordeal, his hopes 
 should be crowned with bliss. Such was tLe 
 leading incident of the drama which was to intro- 
 duce Captain Chalmers into the cage in the pre- 
 sence of the spectators. Although I knew that 
 the exhibitor had over and over again entered 
 that cage, yet I confess that when I beheld 
 the beasts protruding their terrific claws through 
 the bars, or yawning and displaying their 
 tremendous teeth, a cold sense of apprehension 
 crept over me. There was a somewhat lengthy 
 dialogue between the hero and the Eajah 
 previous to the introduction into the cage ; and 
 during this interval some of the animals either 
 frolicked or quarrelled with each other— I could 
 not precisely comprehend which ; but if it were 
 merely play, it was certainly a very rough game. 
 For they not merely indulged in mutual snarls and 
 bowls — but they clawed and snapped at each othir 
 — they flew round and round the cage — then one 
 sprang upon another, threw him down, and strode 
 over him, while their mouths were brought into 
 what appeared to be a very savage contact. Juliet 
 was frightened as well as myself: but Lord Fre- 
 derick Eavenscliffe assured us that it was only the 
 play of those animals. 
 
 At length the moment came when Captain 
 Chalmers was to enter the cage ; and it was with 
 lightning rapidity that he suddenly opened the iron 
 gate at the back, which was instantaneously closed 
 behind him with a clashing din. Folding his arms 
 across his chest, he immediately assumed the atti- 
 tude of triumph and domination : his features were 
 fixed in rigid sternness : his dark piercing eyes 
 glanced quickly at each animal in rapid succession, 
 as if to overawe them all. The lion lay down 
 heavily, and gave a tremendous gape, which showed 
 a mouth large enough to take in the head of his 
 master : the bear stood up on his hind legs, grasp- 
 ing the bars with his fore-paws, and looking at the 
 crowds in front of the footlights: the hyena 
 walked rapidly to and fro, rubbing himself against 
 the bars, but with his head slightly inclined more
 
 EllEN PERCT; OE, THE MEM0IE9 OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 91 
 
 than its natural carriage was, as if partially cowed 
 by the presence of the brute-tamer. The animals 
 which I have omitted to name, crouched down in 
 the corners of the cage : but the tiger circled about 
 the captain, with methought a mingled cat-like 
 stealthiness and subdued malignity. 
 
 This tiger was a splendid animal from the 
 jungles of Bengal: ho was larger than any I had 
 seen in the Zoological Gardens or in travelling 
 menageries. He was beautifully striped ; and 
 every time his eyes caught the glare of the foot- 
 lights, I beheld them gleam with their bright 
 yellow pupils in a half reptile-like, half cat-like 
 manner. As he paced round and round, the velvet 
 balls of his paws scarcely made any sound upon 
 the plank-floor of the cage : the lower part of the 
 feet bent as if beneath the weight of the body 
 which they had to sustain; and the movement of 
 the animal was undulatory, so to speak, in every 
 pai-t of body and limbs. There was something 
 horrible in the very elasticity and suppleness of 
 that brute: for it seemed as if with only the 
 slightest effort it could suddenly dart at that ad- 
 venturous man who was standing there, in the 
 middle of the cage, just as a serpent flings itself 
 forth from its coils. 
 
 Por two or three minutes did the brute-tamer 
 thus remain stationary, but having eyes as it were 
 for each of the other occupants of that cage. The 
 noble lion appeared to be calmly indifferent to his 
 presence : indeed he yawned, and gaped, and 
 blinked — now putting his head between his paws 
 — then slowly raising it to gape again, as if even 
 unconscious that his master was there. The bear 
 seemed equally ignorant of the fact — but more 
 stolidly so : the hyena, on the contrary, evidently 
 liked it but little : the minor animals were still 
 more cowed : but it was not so easy to esti- 
 mate what the tiger thought of it. There was 
 however a growing sense of uneasiness in my 
 mind ; and I wished myself fairly out of the place 
 —or rather perhaps that I had not entered it on 
 the present occasion. I saw too that Juliet was 
 sharing my vague apprehensions : but Lord Frede- 
 rick laughed and jested with us for what he termed 
 our folly. 
 
 Presently Captain Chalmers commanded the 
 tigpr in an authoritative voice to lie down. The 
 animal obeyed him, but with a subdued growl ; and 
 even when crouching at his feet, it looked up in 
 his face as if ready to spring at the slightest pro- 
 vocation on the part of its master. Chalmers put 
 his right foot upon the tiger's body : the brute 
 rolled over on its back; but it seemed to clutch its 
 master's legs in a querulous angry manner with 
 its four claws. Chalmers gave vent to a passionate 
 ejaculation and tore away his leg suddenly. The 
 tiger sprang up with a louder growl than before ; 
 and more angrily too than before did the Captain 
 bid it lie down. It made a slight retrograde 
 movement, which brought it upon its haunches ; 
 and I could scarcely keep back a scream as the 
 horrible idea struck me that it was about to 
 spring. 
 
 " Down ! down !" ejaculated Chalmers, in a voice 
 of the most angry command : but the tiger, instead 
 of obeying, resumed its walk around the cage, — 
 thus circling, with its noiseless feet and its supple 
 undulating form, about its master. 
 
 " I really do begin to think," said Lord Frede- 
 
 rick Raveuscliffe, " that he has not complete con- 
 trol over that brute." 
 
 I now observed one of the underlings of the 
 theatre coming as far forward as the side-scenes 
 would permit without his being actually seen by 
 the audience; and he gesticulated vehemently to 
 the actor who was nearest. This latter indiviHuRl 
 hastened towards the underling, from whose hand 
 he received a whip or stick, which he passed 
 through the bars at the back of the cage. It 
 was instantaneously clutched by Chalmers — who, 
 brandishing it before the tiger's eyes, bade the 
 animal lie down. The brute gave a growl of un- 
 mistakable savageness ; and sprang back as if 
 frightened at its own audacity. Chalmers hit it a 
 smart blow with the whip ; and the next instant 
 it flew at him with a howl that elicited shrieks 
 from female lips in every part of the house. 
 
 "Tell the audience it is nothing!" I heard 
 Chalmers exclaim to the actors who stood near the 
 cage; and at the same moment dropping the 
 whip, he drew the dagger from its sheath. 
 
 The weapon gleamed in the light which flooded 
 the theatre, and though Mr. Norman, who per- 
 formed the part of the Rajah, stood forward to 
 give the audience the assurance which Captain 
 Chalmers had desired to be conveyed, there was 
 now an almost general consternation. Tlie tiger was 
 howling horribly, and appeared by its attitudes to 
 be every moment about to spring at the brute- 
 tamer. Panic seized upon the crowds of specta- 
 tors; and there was one simultaneous rush from 
 the boxes — though the persons in the pit and gal- 
 leries, more courageous or more curious, remained 
 in their places. The stage-box — where I was 
 seated with Juliet and Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe 
 — was, as the reader will understand, almost 
 close by the cage ; and the terrible apprehension 
 smote me that the beasts might effect their escape. 
 Scarcely had this idea flashed through my brain — 
 and just at the beginning of the rush from the 
 boxes — there was a terrific din produced by the 
 bars of the cage ; and the wild cry arose, " The 
 tiger is loose !" 
 
 Dreadful screams from female lips rang through 
 the theatre; and Juliet burst forth from our box. 
 Whether she merely fell or actually fainted in the 
 corridor immediately outside, I was not sure at 
 the time ; for I myself was almost wild with 
 affright. Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe hastened to 
 pick her up: I, who was the last to issue from 
 the box, closed the door violently behind me ; and 
 then the next moment some object dashed itself 
 with such tremendous force against that door on 
 the inner side, that in my frenzied alarm I was 
 smitten with the conviction it was the tiger 
 springing after us. Overpowered by the horrible 
 nature of my thoughts, I fell down in a swoon. 
 
 When I came back to consciousness, I found 
 myself inside a close carriage, or equipage of some 
 kind ; and a gentleman was seated by my side. 
 My first thought was that it was Lord Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe: but where was Juliet ?— for I and 
 this gentleman were alone together. Scarcely had 
 I asked myself that question, when a blazing gas- 
 lamp over the door of a public-house sent its light 
 inside the vehicle ; and a scream rose to my lips 
 as I recognised Edwin St. Clair. He at once 
 thrust something white (I have since learnt it to 
 be a handkerchief) up into my face ; a powerful
 
 odour smote iny nostrils ; and I relapsed into in- 
 sensibility as suddenly and as abruptly as I had 
 fallen down into a swoon in the theatre ! 
 
 When for the second time on this memorable 
 evening I regained my senses, I found myself in 
 that very same bed-chamber which I had before 
 occupied at St. Clair's house at the time I believed 
 it to belong to Colonel Bellew. I was lying upon 
 a sofa which stood against the foot of the bed: 
 lights were burning in the room ; and Catherine, 
 the female-servant whom I had before seen at that 
 house, was bending over me. My forehead and 
 hair were all wet : a powerful odour of vinegar 
 floated around me; and I knew therefore that re- 
 storatives had been administered. For nearly a 
 minute after opening my eyes, I felt so weak and 
 enfeebled as to be unable to move or to give utter- 
 ance to a word— although I recognised both the 
 woman and the apartment. At length my energies 
 seemed to come back with suddenness. I started 
 up, and flung my looks rapidly around, — expect- 
 ing to encounter St. Clair. But I was alone in 
 the chamber with Catherine. 
 
 " You are better now, Miss ?" she said. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " Am I again a prisoner 
 here ?" 
 
 "Captain St. Clair," responded the woman, 
 " hopes you will not think of leaving until he has 
 had the honour of an interview in the morning." 
 
 " Very well," I rejoined. " You can now leave 
 me." 
 
 Catherine inquired if I wished for any refresh- 
 ments, or if there were anything else she could do 
 for me P— but I replied in the negative. She then 
 quitted the room ; and I hastened to lock the door. 
 I knew very well from antecedent circumstances 
 that it would have been utterly useless to remon- 
 strate with her, to implore or to menace; for that 
 she would not assist in giving me my liberty, even if 
 she possessed the power. I had therefore dealt 
 curtly with her, as the reader has seen : but though 
 I maintained an air of fortitude in her presence, I 
 was not the less afflicted and frightened inwardly 
 at finding myself once more in the power of such 
 an unprincipled character as St. Clair. 
 
 Still I did not lose my self-possession. The 
 reader will recollect that the chamber was entered 
 by means of an ante-room, exquisitely fitted up as 
 a boudoir. I had locked the door of communi- 
 cation between the two; and I now began to in- 
 spect the chamber itself, so as to guard against any 
 latent treachery of which I knew St. Clair to be 
 fully capable. I looked under the bed and under 
 the sofa : the curtains were closely drawn over the 
 window-recess ; I looked behind them. There was 
 a large cupboard in the room : this I opened, and 
 tound the shelves to be crowded with china and 
 linen. Against the wall facing the window, there 
 stood a large, massive, and handsome piece of lur- 
 niture, about eight feet high and about four in 
 width, looking like a wardrobe or clothes-press. It 
 had large folding-doors reaching from the top to 
 the bottom, with glass half-way down, and pink 
 silk curtains inside these windows, I tried those 
 doors also : but they were fastened ; and having 
 now completed the examination of the room, I felt 
 convinced that I was safe from any treachery of 
 the kind which I had apprehended. 
 
 I eat down to reflect on the course which I 
 should pursue in my present difficulty ; for as to 
 
 undressing myself or lying down to seek reposo, 
 it was out of the question, though I experienced a 
 severe headach from the effects of the subtle nar- 
 cotic which the villanous St. Clair had applied to 
 my nostrils in the vehicle in order to reduce me to 
 insensibility and prevent me from screaming out for 
 succour while in the streets of London. I knew the 
 chamber to be too high from the ground to admit 
 the possibility of escape : I was also aware of the in- 
 utility of crying out from the casement in the hope 
 of arousing any occupants of the neighbouring 
 villas ; for on the former occasion threats and 
 warnings had been held out to me on that very 
 point. How, then, should I effect my freedom ? 
 how should I deal with St. Clair when meeting him 
 in the morning ? and would the presentation of a 
 flower (for I had one in my hair, having gone in 
 full dress to the theatre) produce that same talia- 
 manic effect which it had done on a former occa- 
 sion? 
 
 Common sense at once answered this last query ; 
 and that response was of course in the negative : 
 for if St. Clair were to be a second time overawed, 
 dismayed, and vanquished by such a proceeding, 
 he would not have carried me off at all, when he 
 must have known that it would be merely to en> 
 counter such a defeat at my hands. I felt there- 
 fore that the talisman had lost its power, and that 
 my safety and my freedom must be ensured by 
 other means. Suddenly a thought struck me; 
 and prompted as much by curiosity as by the idea 
 that the document might possibly help me in my 
 serious embarrassment, I rose and proceeded to the 
 toilet-table. It was a superb piece of furniture,— 
 a framework of beautifully carved rosewood sus- 
 taining a massive marble slab ; and to the back of 
 the table a looking-glass in a gilt frame was at- 
 tached by means of splendid supporters. As I 
 have noticed in a preceding chapter, the table itself 
 was covered with all the necessaries and elegancies 
 suitable for the toilet of the most refined lady ; 
 and these seemed to have been so little disturbed 
 since I was previously in that room some months 
 back, that I felt almost convinced the chamber 
 never could have been used during the interval. 
 I was about to open the drawer to which I had re- 
 stored the fragment of the mysterious letter,— 
 when happening to glance into tbe mirror, I be- 
 held something that suddenly petrified me with 
 terror. 
 
 The toilet-table was almost exactly facing that 
 large wardrobe of which I have before spoken; 
 and as distinctly as possible I saw by the reflection 
 in the glass, the pink curtain of that wardrobe 
 drawn partially aside for an instant, and an eye 
 looked forth at me. The next moment the curtain 
 was closed again ; and there I stood transfixed, — 
 terror having arrested the shriek which had risen 
 up to my very lips. But my presence of mind 
 was almost as promptly regained as it was lost; 
 and not choosing immediately to open the drawer 
 and search for the Iragraent of the letter, I took 
 up one of the brushes from the toilet-table and 
 began to smooth down my hair. I composed my 
 features as much as possible, and studied so to 
 model my demeanour as to produce the impression 
 that I was utterly unsuspicious of the pending 
 treachery, and still deemed myself completely alone 
 in that chamber. 
 
 I remained for two or three minutes in front of
 
 tlie looking-glass, arranging my hair as well as my 
 dress, which had got somewhat disordered by the 
 swoons through which I had passed, as well as by 
 having been carried in and out of the vehicle. 
 But while thus seeming to occupy myself in so 
 natural and unsuspicious a manner, my thoughts 
 were keenly alive ; and I was deliberating upon 
 the course which I should pursue. The looking- 
 glass reflected the wardrobe opposite, as well in- 
 deed as the greater portion of the whole room. I 
 noticed the position of ail the articles of furni- 
 ture; and with my eye I measured the distance 
 between that wardrobe and the wall facing it. 
 It was in this wall that the window was, against 
 the draperies of which the toilet-table stood. My 
 plans were carefully digested; and my mind was 
 made up how to act. 
 
 Against the wall of which I have just spoken, 
 there was a long ottoman, or sofa without back or 
 sides, covered with a rich crimson velvet, and fur- 
 nished with luxurious cushions. I first proceeded 
 to move this ottoman away from the wall, and to 
 turn it out in such a manner that one of its ex- 
 tremities rested against the massive marble pe- 
 destal which supported one of the statues that em- 
 bellished the chamber. I did this with every 
 appearance of calmness and tranquillity, and not as 
 if I were in the faintest degree excited. I threw 
 myself upon the ottoman which I had thus dis- 
 placed ; and I said in an audible voice, but yet as 
 if speaking only to myself, " Here I can repose, 
 and at the same time watch the door !" 
 
 While reclining there for a few minutes, I ac- 
 curately measured with my eye the distance be- 
 tween the end of the ottoman and the doors of the 
 wardrobe. The result was satisfactory : but when 
 about to execute the remainder of my plan I 
 dreaded lest St. Clair should fathom my purpose 
 and suddenly burst forth upon me to prevent its 
 accomplishment: for that he was the concealed 
 tenant of the wardrobe, I could have no possible 
 doubt. Summoning all my courage and self- 
 possession to my aid, I rose from the ottoman — 
 again affected to occupy myself for a few moments 
 in front of the looking-glass — and then I ap- 
 proached the sofa which, as before described, was 
 at the foot of the bed. All in an instant I seized j 
 upou that sofa : it moved easily upon its castors; \ 
 and I rolled it rapidly on towards the wardrobe, ' 
 against the doors of which it came in strong con- \ 
 cussion ; and quick as lightning I tossed down a 
 chair in the interval which remained to be filled 
 up between the other extremity of the sofa and 
 the nearest end of the ottoman. Thus, as the 
 reader will understand, a line was formed by these 
 three articles of furniture between the doors of 
 the wardrobe and the pedestal standing against 
 the wall on the opposite side. It was a barricade 
 that effectually prevented the opening of those 
 doors ; and St. Clair was a prisoner. An ejacula- 
 tion of triumph burst from my lips; for 1 knew 
 that for him to push the doors open was impos- 
 sible ; and the construction of the upper portion in 
 which the glass panes were set, was too massive 
 and solid for him to break through it, especially as 
 he was, " cribb'd, cabin'd, and confin'd " in so nar- 
 row a space. 
 
 I immediately hastened to the toilet-table. I 
 opened the drawer ; and there, sure enough, I 1 
 found the fragment of the mysterious letter of { 
 
 which I had resolved to possess myself; for I na- 
 turally felt that whatsoever clue I might obtain to 
 the reading of the dark secrets which wero evi- 
 dently associated with St. Clair, would give me 
 an additional hold over him and serve as defence- 
 works in future against the villanous projects 
 which ha was so perseveringly directing against 
 myself. I secured the fragment of the letter about 
 my person ; and scarcely had I done this, when 
 the crashing of a pane of glass in the door of tho 
 wardrobe smote my ears. 
 
 "Ellen, you have vanquished me!" said the 
 voice of St. Clair, in a tone expressive of the ut- 
 most mortification. "For heaven's sake release 
 me from this dreadful position !" 
 
 " I will not waste time," I answered with cold 
 disdain, "by reproaching you for this renewed vil- 
 lany towards me ; because every phase of your 
 conduct proves that mere upbraidings are lost 
 upon you. But my mind is made up how to act. 
 Towards me you harboured the most infamous of 
 purposes: and you can expect no mercy at my 
 hands. For me to liberate you, would be an act 
 of as complete madness as if I had ere now opened 
 the door of that cage at the theatre, and with my 
 own hand suffered the wild beasts to escape !" 
 
 "I swear to you," answered St. Clair, on whose 
 countenance the light fell as he drew aside the 
 pink curtain of the wardrobe, " that you suspect 
 me of a crime of which I am not capable ! You 
 were safe from actual outrage on my part. As 
 there is a heaven above us, I love you too well, 
 Ellen — too madly — too devotedly to consummate 
 such an iniquity ! But I had resolved that you 
 should be mine ; and methought that after it were 
 known to all the domestics of my household that 
 we had passed hours together in the same cham- 
 ber, you would no longer refuse to give me your 
 hand. Believe me that this is the truth ! It is 
 your unkindness towards me that has rendered my 
 imagination so fertile in expedients to possess you !" 
 
 " A man who is capable of such deep dark vil- 
 lany as you have practised towards me," I an- 
 swered, " is capable of any other atrocity ; and 
 you cannot be surprised that I put not the slight- 
 est faith in the assurances you are now giving me. 
 Tbink you for a moment that I could ever accept 
 as a husband a man who would have won me by 
 such means? Not won me! — for it would have 
 been by the vilest coercion and the most dastard 
 intimidation that you would have compelled me to 
 give you my hand! Wide enough. Captain St. 
 Clair, was the gulf already between us : but wider 
 than ever, if possible, has it to-night been ren- 
 dered by this crowning infamy of your's. Now 
 listen to me ! I am about to seek my freedom. 
 That I shall find the outer door locked, I have not 
 a doubt : but for this emergency I was prepared. 
 You will see how desperate and how invincible is 
 my courage ! Unless you yourself can by soma 
 means tell me how to ensure a safe egress from 
 this house, I will at once set fire to the draperies 
 of the bed and the windows — the terrific alarm 
 will ring through the house— the door of the ante- 
 room will be opened to me — and I shall escape ! 
 But whether any of your domestics will have tha 
 courage to penetrate into this chamber when 
 blazing in conflagration — whether, in a word, they 
 will thus come to search for yoit— is a point which 
 I dare not pause to take into consideration."
 
 94 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, the MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 " But all this is horrible, Ellen !" exclaimed St, 
 Clair : and the feeling which, prompted the words 
 was expressed upon his convulsing features as the 
 light fell upon his countenance. 
 
 "I know it is horrible," I responded: "but it 
 is the only alternative " 
 
 " Good God !" he cried, in mingled terror and 
 anguish, "my servants know not that I am 
 here !" 
 
 " They know not that you are here ?" I ejacu- 
 lated : and then thinking that the outer door 
 might be unlocked after all, I flew to ascertain. 
 
 St. Clair called after me in accents of the most 
 imploring entreaty : but I heeded him not. I 
 opened the door of the bed-chamber : I sped into 
 the ante-room — I tried the outer door which opened 
 upon the landing ; but I found it fastened. What 
 did St. Clair mean P His servants knew not that 
 he was in the chamber ; and yet he had intended 
 to remain the whole night there, in order that this 
 fact might be known to them in the morning, and 
 that it might serve as a means of compelling mo 
 to give him my hand ? I could not understand it ; 
 and I therefore felt persuaded — as I indeed all 
 along suspected — that he had been deceiving me 
 by those representations. I returned into the bed- 
 chamber ; and I said coldly, " The outer door is 
 locked." 
 
 " For Leaven's sake grant me your patience for 
 a few minutes 1" he exclaimed; "and I will con- 
 vince you that I have spoken nothing but the 
 truth. My object was to reduce you to that posi- 
 tion in which, to save your own reputation, you 
 would be compelled to accept me as your husband. 
 On arriving at the house I ordered you to be 
 transported to this chamber. I bade Catherine 
 lock the door of the ante-room, take out the key, 
 and thrust it underneath the door of my own bed- 
 room — alleging as a reason for this command that 
 I might be assured none of the other servants 
 would either through motives of compassion or 
 apprehension grant you your freedom. But in- 
 stead of repairing to my own room, I came and 
 secreted myself in this, while you were being con- 
 veyed up-stairs. My object may easily be under- 
 stood — — " 
 
 "And tbat object?" I said, inquiringly: for 
 there seemed to be so much sophistry and so many 
 inconsistencies in St. Clair's explanations that I 
 could not put faith in them. 
 
 " I see that you doubt me," he continued ; 
 " but by facts will I convince you. Were you not 
 brought in a state of insensibility to this house ? 
 were you not tlierefore in my power ? and might 
 I not have rendered you my victim ? But no 1 I 
 suffered Catherine to adopt the means of recover- 
 ing you, so that when the morning should come, 
 and she on entering the chamber should find me 
 with you, it would have the appearance as if you 
 had of your own accord succumbed to my entrea- 
 ties, my vows, and my protestations." 
 
 " Ob, this refined villany !" I exclaimed, my 
 cheeks crimson with indignation and with the 
 glowing shame of offended modesty. " Enough of 
 these details ! — enough, I command you ! — and tell 
 me at once to what is all this to lead ?" 
 
 " You must listen to me, Ellen !" proceeded St. 
 Clair vehemently. " Call me villain if you will : 
 but at least let me convince you that my villany 
 has not been altogether so great as you imagine 
 
 it. Catherine has no doubt placed the key, ac- 
 cording to my instructions, beneath my bedroom 
 door " 
 
 " How then," I demanded, " could she possibly 
 suppose in the morning — if your villanous plans 
 had been carried out— that you had availed your- 
 self of that key to obtain admission here ? How 
 could she even obtain admission for herself in the 
 morning ?" 
 
 " Because I have a duplicate key," answered St. 
 Clair ; " and it is here in my hand. Liberate mo 
 from this place— carry not into effect your dreadful 
 menaces —do not expose my life to so hideous a 
 peril ! — and I swear to you, Ellen, that you shall 
 go forth from this house without a hair of your 
 head being harmed. Nay, more ! — as this plot of 
 mine has failed, it must be the last which in the 
 madness of my love I dare practise against you. 
 For I know that to-morrow you will invoke the 
 protection of the law, and I shall flee away to the 
 Continent — there to remain until your anger be 
 appeased, or some individual more fortunate than 
 myself may have won that hand which I would 
 give worlds td possess. Thus you perceive, Ellen, 
 you will henceforth incur no fresh peril from me !" 
 
 " Enough !" I ejaculated ; " there is no reliance 
 to be placed upon your word. Give me that key 
 — or my threats shall be carried out — the flames 
 shall be applied to the curtains and the draperies ! 
 Oh, you little suspected, Captain St. Clair, with 
 whom you had to deal ! For such persecutions as 
 your's — such devices — such crimes' — are sufficient 
 to arouse the desperate and vindictive spirit of 
 an angel !" 
 
 "But if I give you the key," cried Edwin, in 
 accents of mingled rage and despair, "you will 
 emancipate yourself — and you will leave me 
 here ?" 
 
 "Doubtless!" I exclaimed. "Quick! quick! 
 You know the alternatives!" — and speeding to- 
 wards the toilet-table, I stretched forth my hand 
 as if to grasp one of the tapers that were burning 
 there. 
 
 " For heavenHi sake pause !" cried the wretched 
 St. Clair. " This is madness on your part I I 
 swear to fulfil my word — you shall leave this house 
 unharmed " 
 
 " Not one tittle of the advantages that I have 
 gained," I cried, " will I surrender up ! No !— on 
 the contrary 1" — and I placed another chair, laid 
 down lengthways, between the ottoman and the 
 sofa, in order to strengthen the barricade which 
 kept my prisoner fast. 
 
 "But if you leave me here, Ellen," said St. 
 Clair, in a tone of the most abject piteousness, 
 " you will render me an object of ridicule to my 
 domestics— they will whisper the tale abroad— it 
 will become known — I should be laughed at — at 
 the Club I should be jeered " 
 
 "All these misfortunes you will have drawn 
 down upon your own head," I interrupted him : 
 and then I added in a taunting tone, " But if you 
 proceed to the Continent you will escape the un- 
 pleasant things you have enumerated. Ah, Cap- 
 tain St. Clair I your words are full of contradic- 
 tions and inconsistencies!" 
 
 " For heaven's sake release me. Miss Percy !— 
 release me, Ellen ! I conjure you !" he cried. "To 
 leave me here — to be discovered thus by my do* 
 mestics— were intolerable!"
 
 EILEN PEECX; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEE83. 
 
 93 
 
 " And you who care not to perpetrate the 
 blackest atrocities within the knowledge of your 
 servants," I retorted, "tremble like a frightened 
 child at the slightest idea of encountering ridicule ! 
 But enough of all these bandying words " 
 
 "For the last time," interjected St. Clair, "I 
 entreat you to have mercy upon me ! Yes, it is 
 true — I do tremble at the idea of ridicule ! Save 
 me from it !" 
 
 "And I have my reputation to maintain," I 
 immediately rejoined. "When your domestics dis- 
 cover how you have been treated by me, they will 
 have the most convincing proof that there has 
 been no weakness nor yielding on my part. And 
 now enough!— decide quickly ! Give me the key 
 —or in another moment I fire the chamber !" 
 
 A sound, which seemed to be composed of a 
 half-subdued cry of rage and a moan of despair, 
 came from the lips of the prisoner as his arm was 
 thrust through the broken pane of glass, and his 
 hand presented me the key. I clutched it with 
 avidity and in triumph. St. Clair besought me 
 to remain a few moments while he addressed me 
 in some parting words : but I gave him no reply. 
 I sped to the outer door of the ante-room : the 
 key turned in the lock, — I opened that door. A 
 lamp was burning on the landing ; I listened — 
 the whole house was silent. I descended the 
 stairs, and reached the hall. It was dark : the 
 gas-light had been extinguished. I felt rejoiced 
 at the conviction that all the servants had retired 
 to rest. I opened the front door : I now breathed 
 the fresh air of freedom. 
 
 But scarcely had my heart thrilled with a sense 
 of ineffable triumph, as well as with thankfulness 
 for my escape from a great peril, when I was 
 smitten with a new sense of embarrassment. Yet 
 it was a difficulty ridiculously insignificant in 
 comparison with the one from which I had just 
 emancipated myself. I was in an evening dress, 
 without a bonnet, and with only a light scarf 
 thrown over my shoulders. The neighbouring 
 church- clocks were proclaiming the hour of mid- 
 night: it was a somewhat lonely part of the 
 suburbs; and I was standing in that costume on 
 the steps of a house inhabited by a single gentle- 
 man. In another moment I might find myself 
 exposed to the insults of passers-by. This was 
 the source of my bewilderment : for it may easily 
 be imagined that I did not like, dressed as I was, 
 to run m search of a vehicle to take me home — 
 while on the other hand I might wait long enough 
 there in expectation of an unoccupied cab to 
 pass. 
 
 Scarcely a minute however had elapsed since 
 the front door of St. Clair's house had closed be- 
 hind me — and scarcely had those rapid perplexing 
 thoughts swept through my mind — when I beheld 
 an equipage approaching ; and by the light of 
 its brilliant lamps I recognised it to be Lady 
 Lilla Essendine's. With a cry of joy I sprang 
 forward, and called to the coachman to stop. He, 
 at once recognising me, complied. Lady Lilla, 
 who was inside the carriage, also recognising me, 
 gave vent to an ejaculation of astonishment. The 
 footman leapt down to open the door ; and as I 
 entered the vehicle, I begged Lady Lilla to convey 
 me home to the Iformans' house in Hunter Street. 
 That the domestics might not think it strange at 
 finding me iu such a position at such a time of 
 
 night, I hastily said a few words to the eflEect tbat 
 I had experienced most treacherous treatment, 
 from the scene of which I had fortunately es- 
 caped. 
 
 "I can conjecture full well, my dear Ellen," 
 answered Lady Lilla in a low tone, " who has been 
 the author of this treachery. But will you not 
 come straight on to my house ?" 
 
 " No — it is impossible !" I responaed. " The 
 Normans will be overwhelmed with anxiety con- 
 cerning me. At least convey me to the nearest 
 stand of public vehicles " 
 
 " Good heavens, my dear Ellen !" ejaculated 
 Lilla in a tone of reproach; " it was not of trouble 
 nor of inconvenience that I was thinking." 
 
 Her ladyship at once ordered the carriage to 
 turn and drive to Hunter Street; and while we 
 were proceeding thither, I narrated everything 
 that had occurred, suppressing only the circum- 
 stance of having possessed myself of the fragment 
 of the mysterious letter. Lady Lilla listened with 
 the deepest attention until I reached that stage of 
 my story in which I had to describe how I had 
 kept St. Clair a prisoner in the wardrobe. Then 
 she laughed with the wildest exultation : there 
 was something more than mere mirth in the effect 
 thus produced; — it was a malignant satisfaction 
 as if her own vindictive spirit were indescribably 
 rejoiced at the bitter chastisement which had over- 
 taken St. Clair. 
 
 " And yet," I said, " all things considered, I 
 would not have publicity given to this adventure 
 of mine. I do not like to be talked about in such 
 a sense. I shall not even mention the occurrence 
 to the Normans, as it would only compel me to 
 give explanations in respect to antecedent circum- 
 stances between myself and St. Clair. Mr. and 
 
 Mrs. Norman have only one fault they cannot 
 
 keep a secret; and were I to tell them all these 
 things, they would whisper them to one and to 
 another until the whole town would ring with 
 them." 
 
 " You have but to signify your slightest wish to 
 me," rejoined Lady Lilla, "in order to have it 
 gratified. But here we are in Hunter Street." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE DUCHESS AND THE COUNTESS. 
 
 The Normans were at the supper-table; and Lord 
 Frederick RavenscliflFe was likewise there. I found 
 them surprised at my protracted disappearance : 
 but they were not labouring under any apprehen- 
 sion, for they had reason to believe that I had been 
 taken care of by friends. As they knew that Lady 
 Lilla Essendine's carriage brought me home, they 
 conceived that I had been all the time with her ; 
 and there was consequently no need for me to give 
 evasive replies, nor to tell a tale in which the 
 whole truth should be suppressed. I gathered 
 indeed from the hasty remarks, comments, and ex- 
 planations which now assailed me as it were iu a 
 volley, an idea of what had occurred when I fell 
 down in a fit in the corridor of the theatre. 
 
 It appeared that Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's 
 attentions were wholly required by Juliet, who was 
 the first to swoon. Crowds rushed forth from the
 
 96 
 
 EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTEES8. 
 
 other boxes into the corridor ; and Lord Frederick 
 entreated that some regard should be paid to me. 
 A gentleman and lady at once complied with his 
 request ; and the ejaculations which burst from 
 their lips, showed that they immediately recognised 
 me. They bore me away in a state of unconscious- 
 ness ; and in the meanwhile Juliet recovered. Her 
 father was almost immediately on the spot ; and 
 he assured the young nobleman and his daughter 
 that there was nothing to apprehend in respect to 
 the wild beasts. It further appeared that Captain 
 Chalmers— having by brandishing the dagger suc- 
 ceeded in overawing the tiger — had instantaneously 
 availed himself of the opportunity to quit the cage. 
 The violent closing of the grating as he thus 
 skipped from the den, caused the panic alarm that 
 the tiger had escaped. Mr. Norman — who was 
 representing the character of the Eajah — perceiv- 
 ing that our box was so abruptly vacated, sprang 
 down into it from the stage, to tranquillize us with 
 the assurance that there was no danger : and trip- 
 ping over a seat, he had fallen with that violence 
 against the door which filled me with the horrible 
 idea that the tiger had sprung after us. In the 
 course of a few minutes the greater portion of the 
 panic-stricken audience returned to their places ; 
 and the drama proceeded : but Captain Chalmers 
 did not again venture into the den. Lord Frede- 
 rick and Juliet were surprised that I did not re- 
 turn — but still they were not uneasy : they natu- 
 rally felt assured that I had either fallen into the 
 hands of friends, or else of persons who would 
 treat me in a friendly manner. Lord Frederick 
 was too much excited and bewildered at the time 
 on Juliet's account, to take very much notice of 
 the lady and gentleman who had carried me off ; 
 and he was utterly unacquainted with them per- 
 sonally. 
 
 Such were the explanations which I received ; 
 and I made a remark which had the effect, as I 
 intended it should, of making my friends suppose 
 that I bad remained unconscious of whatsoever 
 passed until I found myself with Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine. 
 
 " Then you do not know," exclaimed Lord 
 Frederick, " who the gentleman and lady were to 
 whom you are so much indebted, and who must 
 doubtless have consigned you into Lady Lilla's 
 care ?" 
 
 "I cannot even conjecture," I responded; "for 
 they themselves gave no intimation which could 
 possibly be repeated to me :"— and this was true 
 enough, as the reader is aware. " But I should 
 like to know who they were." 
 
 " Naturally so," said Mrs. Norman ingenuously, 
 —"in order to take the first opportunity of ex- 
 pressing your gratitude. Perhaps you can describe 
 them. Lord Frederick ?" 
 
 " I do not think I can," he answered ; " and yet 
 I should possibly know them again if I were to 
 see them. I was so distressed and bewildered on 
 Juliet's account — likewise on your's. Miss Percy 
 for it was no trivial thing to have upon my 
 hands two ladies who had fainted— although we 
 can now afford to smile at my embarrassment——" 
 
 "And yet," I said, "if your lordship could but 
 give me the faintest sketch of this gentleman and 
 lady " 
 
 " Their images are only retained so confusedly 
 and dimly ia my miad," interrupted the young 
 
 nobleman, " that I really know not how to enter 
 on such a description. I dare say we shall see 
 them again, as they most likely frequent the 
 theatres; and then, as it often happens in similar 
 cases, the recognition will flash in unto my 
 memory." 
 
 On retiring to my chamber, I reflected on 
 everything I had just heard. There was a gap to 
 be filled up. Who could this gentleman and lady 
 be? Perhaps strangers; and St. Clair, having 
 seen everything that passed, had stepped in to 
 assert some superior claim to have the care of me ? 
 Or, on the other hand, they might have been 
 accomplices of St. Clair?— though I was certain 
 that Colonel Bellew had not figured in this in- 
 stance, inasmuch as I had once heard Lord Frede- 
 rick Eavenscliffe on some occasion incidentally 
 mention that he was acquainted with him. Unable 
 to arrive at any satisfactory conjecture on the 
 point, I proceeded to examine once more that 
 mysterious fragment which I had brought with mo 
 from St. Clair's house. I perused its contents 
 with almost as harrowing an interest as when my 
 eyes first scanned them. Oh ! what wild pas- 
 sionate words were those which had found record 
 upon that paper ! — how ineffable must have been 
 the anguish of mind in which they were penned ! 
 What horror — what excruciations— what worlds of 
 mental suffering did they bespeak 1 They seeraed 
 to conjure up ghastly shapes around me, and to 
 make my heart writhe as if with the infection of 
 their own crucifying tortures. But composing my 
 feelings as well as I could, I endeavoured to shut 
 out from my mind the sense of that impassioned 
 language itself, and to study only the handwriting 
 in which it was recorded At the same time I 
 strove to recollect Lady Lilla's writing ; and again 
 was I struck by the resemblance — again were all 
 my fearfuUest suspicions aroused— and I could not 
 help thinking that which I would have given the 
 world tiot to think in respect to one who had dis- 
 played so much kindness towards me. At length, 
 having locked up the mysterious fragment in my 
 desk, I retired to bed. 
 
 Two or three days afterwards I saw in that por- 
 tion of a morning paper which was devoted to 
 fashionable movements, an announcement to the 
 effect that Captain Edwin St. Clair, M.P,, had left 
 England on a Continental tour, and was not ex- 
 pected to return until the opening of Parliament 
 should call him to the resumption of his senatorial 
 duties. I was pleased at this piece of intelligence ; 
 for having been unfortunate enough to win the 
 maddened love of such an unprincipled character, 
 I could at no time consider myself safe while he 
 remained in the British metropolis. 
 
 Buriug the week which followed the adventures 
 that I have been relating, I reappeared upon the 
 stage, to achieve fresh triumphs. I must candidly 
 confess that on the first evening when I thus once 
 more trod the boards of the theatre, I experienced 
 a certain tightening at the heart, as the dying 
 words of my deceased aunt came vividly back to 
 my memory. Yet they were not qualms of con- 
 science which I thus felt : for if for a moment I 
 had fancied I was doing wrong, I should have at 
 once abandoned the stage. But I regretted that | 
 the profession which I had adopted should be re- j 
 pugnant to the prejudices entertained by oas 
 whom I had so much loved and respected. 
 
 \
 
 EILEN PBKCT; OR, THE MEZiIOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 97 
 
 One morning I received a note fro;u a bdj bo- 
 longing to tlie highest sphere of aristocracy, re. 
 questing me to call upon her at her mansion at 
 the West End, as she was desirous to speak to me 
 relative to a dramatic entertainment she purposed 
 to give shortly. This lady was the Duchess of 
 Ardleigh ; and her husband was one of the wealth- 
 iest noblemca in England. The note was ad- 
 dressed to me as Miss Trafford ; and I showed it 
 to the Normans. They recommended me by all 
 means to comply with the wishes of her Grace, — 
 observing that I was sure to receive a very hand- 
 some remuneration for whatsoever engagement 1 
 might thus enter into. I accordingly wroto a 
 reply, to the effect that I would wait upon the 
 Duchess of Ardleigh at three o'clock in the after- 
 noon of the following day, if that hour should 
 prove convenient to her Grace. 
 
 Punctual to the appointment, I alighted from 
 No. 13.— EiLE^f Feucy. 
 
 t!ie Normans' carriage at the front entrance to the 
 palatial maasiou, which bore the name of ArdleigU 
 House. 1 was evidently expected ; for imme< 
 diately on giving my name, a powdered lacquey ia 
 gorgeous livery requested me to follow him. Ho 
 led me through a magnificent hall, in which nume- 
 rous domestics were lounging about ; and we bogaa 
 to ascend a marble staircase embellished with nu- 
 merous statues on oue side, and with balustrades 
 which shone like burnished gold on the other. 
 When half-way up this flight, 1 perceived a young, 
 handsome, and elegantly-dressed gentleman de- 
 scending : ha bowed with great politeness— but 
 looked fixedly at me, though not with rudeness: 
 indeed, without iadulging in foolish vanity, but to 
 be consistent with truth, I must add that those 
 were admiring regards which he thus bent upoa 
 me. I slightly acknowledged his salutation ; and 
 I could tell by the ceasing of the sounds of his
 
 93 
 
 EtlEN PEROT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OV AN ACTRESS. 
 
 footsteps a short distance below, that he turned to 
 look at me again. I followed the footman: we 
 reached a landing superbly decorated with yellow 
 marble pillars, with beautiful specimens of sculp- 
 ture, with fine pictures, and with immense vases ; 
 and throwing open a door, the lacquey announced 
 « Miss Trafford." 
 
 Immediately upon beholding the Duchess, I re- 
 cognised her as a lady whom 1 had frequently seen 
 at the theatre, but with whose name and rank I 
 had been until now unacquainted. She was seated 
 with another lady in that splendid apartment to 
 •which I was thus shown ; and she rose with a dig- 
 nified courtesy to receive me : but her companion, 
 who was much older than herseU', remained seated 
 — tossed her head with a superciliousness which 
 she did not attempt to conceal— and commenced 
 fanning herselfj as if this were a relief to the feel- 
 ings of disgust which my presence excited. I felt 
 the blood crimsoning my cheeks ; and I should 
 have at once retired, if the Duchess herself had 
 not come forward to address me with a degree of 
 kindness which she evidently intended to efface or 
 mitigate the impression so disagreeably made upon 
 me by her friend's insolent demeanoup. 
 
 The Duchess of Ardleigh was about forty years 
 of age ; and her tall commanding figui^e had that 
 fulness which, while denoting that the period of a 
 more youthful symmetry was past, nevertheless 
 coqaponsated for that loss by its own richness of 
 contour and luxuriance of beauty. It is true that 
 the plumpness of the shoulders and the splendour 
 of the bust were such as to give the neck an air of 
 shortness: but this slight defect was lost sight of 
 when the eye of the observer rested upon the 
 faultlessly shaped head and the handsome counte- 
 nance of the Duchess of Ardleigh. 
 
 Her companion — who, as I presently learnt in 
 the course of conversation, bore the title of lady 
 Mangold — was an elderly female, decked out with 
 all the accessories of the toilet and other succeda- 
 neous aids to give herself as youthful an appear- 
 ance as possible. In fashionable life it often occurs 
 that false teeth assist in the articulation of lan- 
 guage as false — that artificial hair rests above a 
 brow within which is a brain constantly occupied 
 by frivolous artificialities— and that false bosoms 
 are placed upon even falser hearts. How true all 
 this may be in respect to Lady Mangold, will here- 
 after transpire. The first survey that I took of 
 her was anything but prepossessing. She seemed 
 to be an old coquette; but the artificialities of her 
 toilet were so overdone as to be palpable to a most 
 glaring degree ; while in her dress there was a 
 singular admixture of taste and frumpishness. 
 Her aflfectation was immense — excruciating for 
 herself, sickening for those who beheld it. It 
 ruled her actions— it was depicted in all her move- 
 ments—it pervaded her language — it gave its tone 
 and accent to her speech ; and in all its silliest arts 
 it was aided by the fan or the eye-glass. Lady 
 Mangold had never been a beauty : she now re- 
 sembled an old scarecrow dressed up in a fashion 
 to conceal or mitigate as much as possible the 
 ravages of time and the presence of actual ugli- 
 ness. There was something loathsome about that 
 woman: for the very strength of the perfumes 
 which exhaled from her dress, excited the irre- 
 sistible suspicion that there was a bad breath to 
 be absorbed in that artificial fragrance, — as deep 
 
 wrinkles and furrows and sallowness were to be 
 concealed by the enamel and the rouge which plas- 
 tered her countenance. 
 
 I may here state that which presently transpired 
 in the course of conversation, — that Lady Mangold 
 was aunt to the Duchess of Ardleigh ; and I could 
 not help fancying that it must be this circum- 
 stance which could alone induce her Grace to tole- 
 rate the society of that wretched frivolous old 
 woman. For though the Duchess herself was by 
 no means a lady of enlightened it\tellect, but had 
 all the hauteur of the highest aristocracy, mingled 
 with much of its frivolity and narrow-minded pre- 
 judices, — she nevertheless had that amount of good 
 taste which enabled her to adapt herself to circum- 
 stances, and if not actually to put oif hor pride 
 like a garment, at least to adjust it so that it 
 ceased to be offensive. Such was her bearing to- 
 wards me the instant she perceived how Lady 
 Mangold began fanning herself, and the evidences 
 of disgust which she displayed when an actress 
 was introduced within the range of her own aristo- 
 cratic atmosphere ! 
 
 The Duchess desired me to be seated — an invi- 
 tation whereat Lady Mangold gave a sudden start 
 of mingled astonishment and indignation; and an 
 audible, ""Vfell, I never!" was muttered behind 
 the fan. The Duchess threw upon her aunt a look 
 of mingled deprecation and entreaty, and then 
 proceeded to explain to me her project of private 
 theatricals. Her Grace was anxious that I should 
 have the entire superintendence of them— that I 
 should select the performers who were to appear in 
 company with myself — and that I should attend 
 rehearsals for the sake of four or five amateurs who, 
 with her Grace's permission, were anxious to assist. 
 
 "And I hope, my dear," interjected Lady Man- 
 gold, with a disdainful toss of her head, " that 
 this young person will be careful to select such 
 females as may with decency figure in the presence 
 of those whom you mean to invite to Ardleigh 
 House ?" 
 
 "If her ladyship thinks," I exclaimed, my 
 cheeks flushing with indignation, " that I have 
 any acquaintance with females who are unfit to be 
 thus introduced " 
 
 "Prfty do not be offended. Miss Trafiford!" in- 
 terposed the Duchess. " My aunt is ignorant on 
 these subjects " 
 
 "Ignorant indeed!" exclaimed Lady Mangold, 
 again tossing her head. " I have read and heard 
 too much of theatrical matters not to know what 
 I am saying. And if poor dear Lord Mangold 
 was alive " 
 
 "Madam," I said, rising from my seat, and ad- 
 dressing myself to the Duchess, " I thauk your 
 Grace for the honour you have shown me by this 
 preference, and likewise for the courtesy witli 
 which ^ou have treated me: but I must bog to 
 decline any interference in a matter where it is 
 only too evident my arrangements would fail to 
 give complete satisfaction:" — and I glanced to- 
 wards Lady Mangold. 
 
 "Miss Trafford," said the Duchess quickly, "it 
 is impossible to dispense with your services! I en- 
 treat you to withdraw this refusal! Every ono is 
 acquainted with your character ; and every one 
 whom I may choose to invite to Ardleigh House, 
 will have the fullest faith in the propriety of all 
 your arrangements."
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN AOTEESS. 
 
 - Having thus spoken, the Duchess rose from her 
 seat; and advancing towards Lady Mangold, she 
 said, " I must insist, aunt, that you do not inter- 
 fere any more in this matter." 
 
 " Oh, very well ! do as you like, my dear !" ex- 
 claimed Lady Mangold, with concentrated rage. 
 " You may repent your obstinacy in rejecting my 
 advice when it is too late. If poor dear Lord 
 Mangold were alive " 
 
 The Duchess evidently did not wish to hear 
 what his lordship would have said or done were he 
 still in the land of the living ; and again address- 
 ing herself to me, she besought that I would un- 
 dertake the duties suggested. I had overheard 
 the words she so firmly and even peremptorily ad- 
 dressed to her aunt; and I reflected that it would 
 not be either generous or just on my part to visit 
 upon her Grace the indignation with which the 
 insulting conduct of her frivolous old relative had 
 inspired me. I therefore resolved to treat Lady 
 Mangold with the contempt she deserved; audi 
 acceded to the propositions of the Duchess. 
 
 " My son, the Marquis of Dalrymple," con- 
 tinued her Grace, " is very anxious to take a part 
 in these projected theatricals. I am sorry he is 
 
 not here he left us only a few moments before 
 
 your arrival " 
 
 At this instant the door opened ; and that same 
 young gentleman entered whom I had previously 
 met upon the stairs. I have already said that 
 he was exceedingly handsome. His figure was 
 tall and slender: his hair was of a rich brown: 
 his eyes were of a fine sparkling hazel. There was 
 an expression of candour and frankness in his 
 countenance, which subdued or softened the some- 
 what haughty style of his masculine beauty : for 
 he had a short upper lip, curving as it were with 
 a natural pride — and his entire profile might be 
 termed aristocratic. His voice was musical — his 
 manners w^e urbane and prepossessing. He had 
 a happy laugh, and was evidently as yet unspoilt 
 by those parasitical adulations which invariably 
 surround the youthful scions of high titled fami- 
 lies. 
 
 "This is Miss Trafi"ord, Herbert," said the 
 Duchess as he entered the room ; " and this. Miss 
 TrafFord, is my son the Marquis of Dalrymple, of 
 whom I was just speaking to you." 
 
 I rose from my seat : the young Marquis ad- 
 dressed me with as much courtesy as he could pos- 
 sibly have shown towards any lady belonging to 
 his own sphere ; and there was moreover a certain 
 respectful diffidence, almost amounting to bashful- 
 ness, in his bearing towards me. We sat dis- 
 cussing the contemplated theatricals, while Lady 
 Mangold went on fanning herself to such a degree 
 that it seemed as if it were only by this process 
 she avoided falling back in a fit. I noticed that 
 from time to time the Marquis of Dalrymple flung 
 upon her a look of ineffable disgust : but the 
 Duchess no longer seemed to be conscious of her 
 presence. 
 
 While deliberating upon the pieces that were 
 to bo performed, and arranging certain casts of 
 characters, it became necessary to refer to one 
 of Shakspere's plays; and the young Marquis 
 hastened from the room to fetch the required 
 volume from the library. Scarcely had the door 
 closed behind him, when a domestic entered to 
 announce to the Duchess that some lady of rank 
 
 had just called and would not detain her Grace 
 more than a few minutes. The Duchess desired 
 me to excuse her; and she issued from the room. 
 Lady Mangold did not seem immediately to per- 
 ceive that she was thus left alone with me : she 
 was rocking herself to and fro, and using her fan 
 as vigorously as ever. But all of a sudden she 
 started up, exclaiming with a sort of shriek, 
 " Gracious ! to think that they should have left 
 me here with this person! If poor dear Lord 
 Mangold were alive " 
 
 She however stopped short; for it would seem 
 that she never got further than the few first words 
 of that ejaculatory sentence relative to her defunct 
 spouse. I spoke not a syllable ; for I had made 
 up my mind to treat her with the contempt she 
 deserved. She was making her way towards the 
 door, when a thought evidently struck her. She 
 halted — she reflected for a moment — and then she 
 retraced her steps towards me, a complete change 
 having taken place in her demeanour. She was 
 now endeavouring to wreathe her wrinkled coun- 
 tenance into smiles ; and she said, " Well, after all, 
 Miss TrafFord, I do think I have been a little too 
 severe with you — and I hope you will forgive me," 
 
 " I can assure your ladyship," I answered, 
 gravely and somewhat coldly, " that your conduct 
 was not calculated to inspire so strong a feeling as 
 a lasting resentment." 
 
 "Well, that is kind of you!" she cried, not 
 fathoming the tincture of irony that pervaded my 
 response. " Let me see ? — there is to be an after- 
 piece, in which a goddess is to appear Did I 
 
 not hear you say so P" 
 
 " Such is the arranjjement, my lady," I rejoined. 
 "It is a piece founded on the heathen mytho- 
 logy " 
 
 " To be sure !" she exclaimed ; " and Venus is to 
 appear. But you have not as yet arranged who is 
 to personate Venus ; and I was thinking In- 
 deed, if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive 
 But however, I was thinking, I say, that as there 
 must be a Venus — and as neither her Grace nor 
 
 Herbert 1 mean the Marquis of Dalrymple— 
 
 have decided who should personate the character- 
 but as it seemed to be understood that it is to be a 
 lady " 
 
 " And not an actress," I interjected, with a cer- 
 tain degree of scornful irony. 
 
 " Well, you know, my dear Miss Traflford, it is 
 an arrangement made by her Grace ; and you your- 
 self agreed to it." 
 
 " Because there are no artistic qualifications re- 
 quired in reference to that character," I observed. 
 " The Goddess of Beauty will merely make her ap- 
 pearance at the back of the stage " 
 
 "Exactly so ! Amidst clouds, and attended by 
 a host of little Cupids !" exclaimed Lady Mangold. 
 " Now, as you, Miss Trafford, are the superinton- 
 dent— directress — manageress — or whatever the 
 title be — your word is law ; and of course what- 
 ever you suggest must be done. I should not like 
 to hint it myself to the Duchess— but you can pro- 
 pose it as if it were quite an inspiration of your 
 
 ^wn you understand what I mean and if 
 
 poor dear Lord Mangold were alive " 
 
 " Indeed I do not understand your ladyship," 
 I said, though not without a suspicion of the asto- 
 nishing extent to which her silly conceit and vanity 
 were on the point of reaching.
 
 lOO 
 
 EI.LEX PEECT ; OE, THE MEilOIES OF XT! ACTBESS. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, Miss Traflford ! how provoking !" 
 cried Ladj Mangold, now playing with her fan as 
 if she were a bashful young creature of seventeen 
 or eighteen. " I thought you would have taken 
 the hint at once ; and if poor dear Lord Mangold 
 were alive But, after all, you are a very re- 
 spectable young per lady, I mean ; and I am 
 
 really sorry — but I must atone for my rudeness. 
 "Well, the truth is, I mean to countenance you as 
 much as possible : you may command my co- 
 operation — and therefore, my dear Miss TraiFord, 
 all things considered, I shall have no objection to 
 play the Venus for you." 
 
 I gazed upon her ladyship in astonishment ; and 
 I could scarcely prevent a laugh bursting forth 
 from my lips. There was something indescriba- 
 bly ludicrous in the idea of that wrinkled hag per- 
 forming tho part of the Goddess of Beauty ; and I 
 could hardly believe the evidence of my own ears 
 that such an astounding proposition had been 
 yeritably and actually made. 
 
 "Don't say that the hint came from me," her 
 ladyship hastened to add; "but make the pro- 
 posal as if quite of your own accord. Good bye, 
 my dear Miss Trafford. I dare say we shall be 
 excellent friends ; and if poor dear Lord Mangold 
 ■were alive •" 
 
 She stopped short, and turned abruptly from 
 lEC. Again was she making her way towards 
 the door when she paused at a table covered with 
 all kinds of elegant nick-nacks; and there she 
 halted for a few moments. I turned aside, not 
 condescending to fling another look upon an old 
 creature whom for so many reasons I utterly con- 
 temned. After her brief pause at the table, she 
 tripped towards the door, and issued from the 
 room, — a mirror revealing to my eyes her retreat- 
 ing form, and showing that she affected all the 
 airy lightness of youth while thus making her 
 exit. 
 
 Almost immediately afterwards the Marquis of 
 Dalrymple reappeared, with a volume of Shak- 
 Bpere in his hand. Methought that on perceiv- 
 ing his mother and aunt were no longer present, 
 he looked confused and embarrassed for a mo- 
 ment; but still there was pleasure mingling with 
 that confusion. His regards were bent admiringly 
 upon me : but when, with an air of calm politeness 
 and perfect self-possession I took the volume from 
 his hand, he seemed suddenly recalled to a sense 
 of that propriety of demeanour which he was 
 bound to observe towards me. JTot however that 
 there was the slightest rudeness nor insolence in 
 those regards of his;— and now he was once more 
 all respectful affability and courteous attention. 
 The Duchess soon afterwards reappeared ; and our 
 deliberations were continued : but I need scarcely 
 add that I dropped not a single hint relative to 
 the outrageous proposition made by Lady Man- 
 gold, 
 
 In as delicUe a manner as possible did the 
 Duchess of Ardleigh intimate to me that my ser- 
 vices should be most liberally remunerated ; and 
 as I was to take the character of Queen Catharine 
 in "Henry the Eighth," her Grace suggested that 
 I should have a new costume for the occasion. 
 
 "You will permit me. Miss Trafford," she 
 added, " to place in your hands a sum for your 
 immediate expenses." 
 
 Thus speaking, she rose from her seat, and ad- 
 
 vanced towards a table. She evidently Eoujfht for 
 something; and I fancied it was bor purse, I 
 begged her Grace nut to trouble herself about 
 1 pecuniary matters until a future occasion: but 
 she insisted on carrying out her purpose, — adding, 
 " This is very extraordinary ! I certainly left my 
 purse here ! I remember it well— and it contained 
 a considerable sum." 
 
 I experienced all the uneasiness which every 
 one would feel under such circumstances ; and the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple evidently noticed the flush 
 which rose to my cheeks. He hastened to the 
 table, and rapidly whispered something to his 
 mother. 
 
 "Ah!" said the Duchess aloud; "Lady Man- 
 gold must have taken it by mistake. She is in 
 the habit of leaving her own purse tossing about; 
 and — I recollect — it exactly resembles mine." 
 
 "I remember," I said, "that before Lady Man- 
 gold left tho room, she stopped for a few moments 
 at this table." 
 
 "Ah, then, that accounts for it!" exclaimed 
 the Duchess : but at the same moment I perceived 
 she exchanged a rapid and peculiar glance with 
 her son, — a glance which I by no means liked; 
 for it struck me as being full of suspicion. 
 
 I felt exceedingly awkward : the colour was 
 coming and going in rapid transitions upon my 
 cheeks : I was at a loss whether to say any more, 
 or let the matter rest where it was. "Was it pos- 
 sible that the Duchess and the Marquis really 
 suspected me, and that with extraordinary gene- 
 rosity she had devised the excuse in respect to 
 Lady Mangold ? I never felt so uncomfortable in 
 my life as at the bare thought of being deemed 
 capable of an action than to commit which I 
 would rather have died. 
 
 "Here is my purse," the Marquis hastened to 
 observe in a low tone to his mother: and then he 
 glanced towards me with so indescribable an ex- 
 pression of pain in his looks that I feit convinced 
 I was really the object of this most dreadful sus- 
 picion. 
 
 The Duchess took forth from that purse a con- 
 siderable sum in bank. notes ; and as she placed 
 them in my hand, she said, with the most friendly 
 affability, "A thousand thanks. Miss Trafford, for 
 the patience with which you have entered into all 
 our deliberations. We shall expect to see you 
 soon again at Ardleigh House; and I hope that on 
 the next occasion you will be enabled to furnish 
 me with a list of those artistes whom you have 
 selected to appear on our miniature stage." 
 
 The Duchess shook me by the hand ; and the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple accompanied me down 
 stairs to the carriage. I was slUl suffering under 
 a painful impression — though less painful than be- 
 fore ; for methought there was something in tho 
 manner of both the Duchess and her son which 
 was intended to convince me that they did not 
 entertain the dreadful suspicion under which I 
 feared that I was labouring. Nevertheless, the 
 incident was a most unpleasant one ; and I would 
 have given worlds that it had never occurred. 
 
 As no time was to be lost in making the prepa< 
 rations for the private theatricals at Ardleigh 
 House, I ordered the carriage to drive direct to a 
 shop in Eegent Street, where I had to purchase 
 the materials for my new costume. There were 
 several private carriages drawn up in front of the
 
 EILEN PEECY; ok, THE ME1I0IE3 OP AN ACTKE38 
 
 101 
 
 establishmcut, which I found to be crowded with 
 lady-cuslomcra, it being one of the best and most 
 fashionable in Eegent Street. I was known there, 
 and alwajs experienced the utmost civility. Ou 
 entering, a chair was at onco placed by some un- 
 derling for my accommodation, at the only unoc- 
 cupied part in front of the counter to which I re- 
 paired; and the shopman who came forward to 
 serve me, addressed me by the pseudonym of Miss 
 Trafford. I stated what I required ; and when 
 my orders were given, I noticed that accident had 
 again brought me ia contact with Lady Mangold. 
 She was seated on my right hand, and appeared to 
 be 80 busily engaged in the inspection of silks and 
 laces that she affected not to perceive me. I could 
 well understand the silly pride of the old lady, 
 who would not for all the world have bestowed so 
 much as a sign of recognition upon me in a shop 
 where I was evidently known. The same shop- 
 man who was attending to her ladyship, was like- 
 wise now serving me; and I on my part pretended 
 to be as completely unacquainted with her as she 
 obose tu seem in respect to myself. 
 
 As I had numerous purchases to make, I re- 
 mained for some time in the shop, while Lady 
 Mangold appeared to be equally occupied with the 
 piles of goods that were scattered before her. She 
 turned over everything — but seemed to be buying 
 very little. I had already made a selection of the 
 greater portion of the things which I required ; 
 and the shopman had turned aside to procure 
 some other articles, when an incident occurred 
 which struck me with amazement and stupefaction. 
 Though not appearing to be taking the slightest 
 notice of her ladyship, I was really regarding her 
 at the moment; for the recollection of her ludi- 
 crous whim to personate the G-oddess of Beauty 
 was floating in my mind. All of a sudden I per- 
 ceived her place her white cambric pocket hand- 
 kerchief over three pieces of costly lace, and then 
 consign that kerchief with the articles to her 
 reticule. 
 
 I say that I was smitten with amazement and 
 Btupefactioa, Could I possibly believe tlie evi- 
 dence of my own vision? had I seen aright? I 
 sat gazing upon her in blank astonishment, while 
 she continued more assiduously than ever to turn 
 over the goods that were piled before her. At 
 that moment a shopman, who did not servo behind 
 the counter, but whose duty it was to place the 
 chairs for the accommodation of the lady-customers, 
 dropped his handerchief close by my seat ; and as 
 he stooped to pick it up, ho hastily whispered, 
 " Be so kind, Miss Trafford, as not to mention 
 what you have just seen." 
 
 I started as my ear caught these words : the 
 Bhcpman bent upon me a respectful look, which 
 was alike significant and full of entreaty; and he 
 lounged away to the opposite side of the establish- 
 ment. The shopman who was serving me, now 
 returned with the fresh articles that I had inquired 
 for; ana Lady Mangold said with the most perfect 
 Belf-possession, " There ! I have chosen these 
 things. Be so good as to make out the bill." 
 
 Her request was immediately accede 1 to ; and 
 she took forth her purse to pay the amount. I 
 glanced at that purse, to ascertain if it contained 
 much money; so that I might form an idea 
 whether it was the one lost by the Duchess : but 
 it ouly had four or five sovereigns iu one end, and 
 
 a few shillings in the other. I had however little 
 doubt that the reticule contained the purse lost at 
 Ardleigh House, iu addition to the three pieces of 
 lace just self-appropriated by Lady Mangold at the 
 counter of the fashionable establishment. She 
 paid the bill, and proceeded to her carriage, with- 
 out having bestowed the slightest sign of recog- 
 nition upon me. 
 
 By this time the shop had become comparatively 
 empty; and I was now the only customer left at 
 the counter on that side where I was seated. Iu 
 the meanwhile the shopman who had witnessed the 
 theft, and who had whispered the entreaty that I 
 would not expose it, had made some hurried com- 
 munication to the shopman who was serving me. 
 This latter, now finding the coast sufficiently clear, 
 said in an under-tone, " I understand. Miss Traf- 
 ford, you saw something that Lady Mangold just 
 did ?" 
 
 " I saw her secrete three pieces of lace," I re- 
 plied; "and I was shocked — I was dismayed— I 
 could scarcely believe my own eyes !" 
 
 "No wonder, Miss," continued the shopman: 
 "that old lady is the greatest tiiief that comes to 
 our establishment. She will lay out a pound and 
 steal the worth of five." 
 
 " But how is it possible," I asked, in astonish- 
 ment, " that you put up with it ?" 
 
 "A7e are compelled to do so," answered tho 
 shopman. "We keep as keen a watch over her as 
 possible : but one caanofc always have one's eyes 
 fixed upon her; for she will sit here an hour till 
 she gets something, if it is only a pair of gloves. 
 The worst is that in her case it is all sheer loss; 
 for if we were to send in a bill for that lace, for 
 instance, she would vow and protest she never 'aad 
 it— there would be an exposure, aud the establish- 
 ment would be ruined." 
 
 "You mean Lady Mangold would be ruined ?" 
 I observed. 
 
 "No— I mean the establishment. Miss. You 
 would be astonished," ho continued, still speaking 
 in an under-tone, "at the number of lady-thieves 
 there are ; and they are some of the richest too. 
 It is a mania, I suppose— but it prevails to a 
 frightful extent. In some cases we send in the 
 bill half-yearly for the things that are thus pilfered ; 
 and the accounts are paid without a murmur. In 
 other cases the husbands themselves call every now 
 and then, and inquire what is owing by their 
 wives. We know what is meant ; and the money 
 is at once paid. There are other cases, again, in 
 which the lady's-maids or the ' companions' of our 
 thievish customers come in the course of the day, 
 and bring back to us the articles that have bueu 
 pilfered. But still there are many cases, like that 
 of Lady Mangold, where the g'joda are neither 
 paid for nor returned; and we Lave to put up with 
 all the loss." 
 
 " You have astounded me," I said : and I really 
 felt as I spoke. "But still I cannot conceive why 
 you should tamely put up with these losses, as ia 
 the case of Lady Mangold " 
 
 "Suppose, Miss," rejoined the shopman, " that 
 Lady Mangold had just now been given into cus- 
 tody — the magistrate must have committed her for 
 trial, or else held her to bail till the case waa 
 hushed up. But the consequences to us would be 
 fearful. At least two-thirds of our best customers 
 would leave off dealing with us. I don't mean
 
 102 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OV AH ACTEES3. 
 
 the lady-thieves alone — because, as you may easily 
 suppose, it would be a blessing to get rid of them : 
 but I mean the honest, upright, fair-dealing ladies 
 as well. TLie aristocracy all stick by each other; 
 and the exposure of any one belonging to their 
 sphere is felt as a disgrace by the whole body. 
 Therefore, if an exposure were once made, they 
 would wreak the most terrible vengeance on the 
 proprietors of the establishment." 
 
 " But is it possible," I asked, in amazement, 
 "that this can be the morality of the higher 
 orders ?" 
 
 " I am telling you nothing but the truth, Miss," 
 answered the shopman. " Before I came to this 
 establishment, I cci'ved in another, higher up the 
 street; and a 1 'v who had long carried on a 
 systematic course of depredations, was at length 
 given into custody. I cannot tell you the excite- 
 ment that prevailed. The lady-customers sent 
 the most insolent messages by their lacqueys to 
 my employer, to the effect that as he dared give a 
 lady in charge, they would never deal with him 
 again. Showers of anonymous notes poured in, 
 full of threats as well as abuse, — some of which 
 latter was penned in the very coarsest style. My 
 employer was resolved to go on with the case; and 
 the Jady was brought up several times before the 
 magistrate. An immense amount of what was 
 called sympathy/ prevailed amongst the upper 
 class ; and I daresay there was a great deal of 
 fellow-feeling with the whole tribe of lady-thieves 
 especially. Would you believe it. Miss ?— a thou- 
 sand guineas were subscribed to bribe the editor 
 of a powerful daily newspaper to insert a leading 
 article in the lady's favour ; and he did it. In 
 short, everything was done to create sympathy — 
 to prove that the poor lady was the victim of an 
 unconquerable mania for which she was altogether 
 irresponsible — and that my employer was a cruel, 
 unfeeling, hard-hearted monster. Well, the case 
 went for trial — the evidence was clear— the lady 
 herself had admitted the theft — it was notorious 
 that she had plundered and pilfered at other shops 
 in the same way " 
 
 " And therefore the jury condemned her, as a 
 matter of course ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss," replied the shop- 
 man; "the jury acquitted her! She went home 
 in triumph with her friends ; and my employer 
 was ruined. She now rolls by in her carriage 
 every day " 
 
 " There is something dreadful in all this !" I re- 
 marked. " I could scarcely have believed it pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " There is not a shopkeeper of any standing or 
 eminence at the West End, who is not rendered 
 the victim of these fashionable pilferers. Our 
 loss in this establishment is annually immense. 
 We have to keep two * walking shopmen,' as they 
 are called, entirely for the purpose of looking after 
 these lady-thieves. It was one of those shopmen 
 who just now whispered to you, Miss, to take no 
 notice of Lady Mangold's achievement; and if 
 you had not witnessed it, I should not have given 
 you all these explanations. But I hope that you 
 will keep them secret." 
 
 I promised that I would ; and still under the 
 influence of indescribable astonishment, I issued 
 from the establishment. 
 
 Lady Mangold was a confirmed thief; and that 
 
 she had purloined her niece's purse was a matter 
 beyond a doubt. Connected with the incident that 
 had just occurred at the shop, there was a reflec- 
 tion which was fraught with infiaite relief to my 
 own mind. I saw that after all I had not really 
 been suspected by the Duchess of Ardleigh and 
 the Marquis of Dalrymple : Lady Mangold's pro- 
 pensity, mania, or whatever it might be called, 
 was evidently well known to them ; and they thus 
 at once comprehended by what means the purse 
 was missing. Hence the rapid and significant 
 glances which they had exchanged ; and hence too 
 the manner in which the Duchess had endea- 
 voured to turn the affair ofi" by attributing it to a 
 mistake, and hinting at the similitude of her own 
 purse to that of Lady Mangold. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 THEATBICAIi UATTEBB. 
 
 On the following day, at about two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, I repaired to the theatre, in company 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Norman, for the purpose of 
 obtaining the assent of Mr. Richards, the lessee, 
 that certain members of his company should, if 
 willing, assist at the private theatricals at Ardleigh 
 House. Mr. Hichards received us in his own 
 room ; and he cheerfully agreed to whatsoever I 
 proposed : for since the achievement of my suc- 
 cesses, he had been aU politeness, civility, and 
 attention towards me. 
 
 In the midst of our deliberations some one 
 tapped at the door: Mr. Eichards bade the in- 
 dividual enter; and it proved to be an underling, 
 delighting in the euphonious name of Tubbs. 
 
 "Now, Tubbs, what is it?" asked the lessee, 
 impatiently. "You see that I am engaged " 
 
 " It is Mr. Wright, sir," answered Tubbs, with 
 the most submissive demeanour. 
 
 " Wright ? Wright ?" said Mr. Eichards. " Who 
 the deuce is Mr. Wright ?" 
 
 "If you please, sir," responded Tubbs, "he is 
 the gentleman — the author, I mean — of that play 
 which you gave to Mr. Green to read." 
 
 "Ah, to be sure ! I recollect now !" ejaculated 
 the lessee. "Green has reported admirably of 
 
 "He was telling me yesterday," interjected 
 Mr. Norman, " that it is a most excellent piece." 
 
 " Oh, well !" exclaimed Mr. Eichards, " tell 
 Mr. Wrigkt I am very busy now — I cannot pos- 
 sibly see him — let him come to-morrow, Tubbs — 
 or next day." 
 
 " If you please, sir," said Tubbs deferentially, 
 " he has already called thirty or forty times " 
 
 "Then he must call again. These dramatic 
 authors," continued Mr. Eichards, throwing him- 
 self back in liis chair, and sipping a glass of 
 claret, when Tubbs had retired, " are the greatest 
 pests we managers have to endure. They call at 
 all hours ! No matter whether I am taking my 
 lunch — or my nap— or my glass of wine — or 
 smoking my cigar in the evening — in short, how- 
 ever busily I may be engaged, it is always sure to 
 be the author of a piece sent in for approval, that 
 must want to disturb me. Those fellows have no 
 conscience, Mr. Norman."
 
 "Eeally, I think," anawcred Mr. Normau, with 
 a smile, " tbat lessees are sometimes deficient in 
 consciences towards authors " 
 
 Tbe remainder of the sentence was however in- 
 terrupted by tbe reappearance of Tubbs, who came 
 to announca that Mr. Grimshaw had just called. 
 
 " Ob, show him in at once !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Richards : and Tubbs disappeared accordingly, 
 " Grimshaw," continued the lessee, " will prove 
 to be the cleverest Clown that has ever stood upon 
 the boards since Griraaldi. He has done wonders 
 in the provinces : and now I mean to engage with 
 him for the Christmas pantomime. It is some 
 time till then : but I mustn't let him be snapped 
 up by any rival manager." 
 
 Mr. Grimshaw was accordingly introduced. Mr. 
 S.ichards rose to receive him — made him sit down 
 —filled him a glass of claret — and treated him 
 with the utmost cordiality. I could not help think- 
 ing tbat in one sense it was better to be a clown 
 than a dramatic author : for while the former was 
 received in the lessee's private room the instant he 
 called, the latter was compelled to repeat his un- 
 availing visits half a hundred times— the former 
 was regaled with claret, the latter was made to 
 kick bis heels in the lobby or at the stage-door — 
 the former was eulogized behind his back, the latter 
 was spoken of as a pest and a nuisance. 
 
 Scarcely had Mr. Grimshaw got through his 
 first glass of claret, and made three or four 
 grimaces to put Mr. Eichards into all the better 
 humour to close with him on liberal terms, — when 
 an altercation outside the door reached our ears. 
 Voices, male and female, were engaged in most 
 angry parlance, until at length the door was flung 
 open, just as Mr. Eichards was about to start up 
 wrathfully from his seat and ascertain what the 
 disturbance was about. In stalked Mr. Mellicent, 
 an actor of third-rate abilities and first-rate 
 conceit. His countenance was crimson with rage. 
 He had once performed the part of a king ; and 
 he now seemed to have clothed himself with all the 
 theatrical majesty he bad assumed upon the occa- 
 sion : but there was something exceedingly ludi- 
 crous in the expression which his offended pride or 
 wounded feelings now took. He was gesticulating 
 with his left arm ; and his right hand carried 
 Boraething which he concealed behind his back. He 
 was followed by five or six other performers, male 
 and female, as well as by Mr. Sutterby, the "pro- 
 perty-man." 
 
 "Mr. Eichards !" exclaimed Mr. Mellicent, bow- 
 ing in a grandiose style ; " I would fain know, sir, 
 whether I am to be treated with the courtesy of a 
 gentleman within the walls of your theatre — or 
 whether I am to put up with the humbugging 
 nonsense of that wretched vulgarian, your pro- 
 perty-man Sutterby. That's what I want to know, 
 Mr. Eichards— and I should like you to pronounce 
 your decision at once." 
 
 " And pray, what's the matter now ?" de- 
 manded the lessee. 
 
 " I am cast, Mr. Eichards, for the General in 
 , the new after-piece to-night," continued Melli- 
 cent; " and first of all, sir, I might complain that 
 according to the arrangements of Mr. Green, your 
 stage-manager, I am to have three men as an 
 army. But I will let that pass, sir ; although it 
 will be impossible for those three men to look like 
 an army— much less to manoeuvre as one. But 
 
 my great complaiut, sir, is against Mr. Sutterby. 
 There, sir ! did you ever see such a cocked hat :,s 
 that ? What General ever wore such a thing ? 
 Shall I look like a general, sir ? Shall I even look 
 like a corporal, sir ? Shall I have an appearance 
 as good as a fifer to a militia regiment ?" 
 
 These last words hissed fiercely out of Mr. Mel- 
 licent's lips, and his eyes glared round with a 
 malignant rage at Mr. Sutterby, as ho produced 
 the cocked hat from behind his back and placed it 
 upon the lessee's table. 
 
 " There !" he vociferated, scornfully and spite- 
 fully : " you call that a property ! I never saw 
 such a property ! — and the property-man ought to 
 be ashamed of himself to produce it as a pro- 
 perty. What General ever wore such a hat ? 
 Why, sir, take off those bits of red and white 
 paper from the top, which don't look like a plume, 
 sir— and it becomes a parish-beadle's hat ! Look 
 at the lace all tarnished ! And look at the in- 
 side ! One mass of dirt and grease, that no re- 
 spectable man would put his head into I And tJds, 
 sir, is a property-hat for a General !" 
 
 " It's shametul !" ejaculated Mr. Mellicent's 
 companions, male and female, who had evidently 
 been taking his part against the unfortunate 
 property-man. 
 
 " I maintain, Mr. Eichards," said Mr. Sutterby, 
 DOW standing forward, and displaying a face that 
 looked very dirty and very angry, "that the pro- 
 perty is a good property. It was bought for two- 
 and-nine at the fancy dress shop in Tavistock 
 Street the other day. But Mr. Mellicent is 
 always finding fault— you can't please him no 
 how : he is constantly grumbling at the proper- 
 ties^ " 
 
 "And I say that Mr. Mellicent has justice oa 
 his side !" exclaimed a brother performer, now 
 pressing forward. " Mr. Sutterby is no good pro- 
 perty-man. He wants me to play the Duke in an 
 old yellow bed-curtain which he calls a robe. I 
 never saw such a property !" 
 
 The other actors and actresses now likewise stood 
 forward, vociferating their complaints and over- 
 whelming the property-man with their accusa- 
 tions. Mr. and Mrs. Norman and myself, having 
 already transacted our business with Mr. Richards, 
 left him to fight out his battle according to his own 
 discretion ; and we returned home to dinner. 
 
 On the following day I paid a second visit to 
 Ardleigh House, to make farth* arrangements in 
 respect to the private theatricals. Lady Mangold 
 was not present when I arrived; and t was con- 
 ducted to an apartment where I found the Duchess 
 and the young Marquis waiting to receive me. 
 They treated me with as much courtesy as on the 
 former occasion ; and it was necessary that I 
 should pass nearly a couple of hours with them in 
 settling the various preliminaries. On taking my 
 leave, the Marquis of Dalrymple was on the point 
 of accompanying me down to the carriage, as he 
 had done on the former occasion, — when I ob- 
 served that the Duchess checked him by a sign; 
 and he remained in the room with her, I was 
 by no means offended at this little display of pride 
 on her part: I had been already somewhat an- 
 noyed to observe that the young nobleman had 
 more than once fixed his eyes admiringly upon 
 me; and I by no means sought to become the ob- 
 ject of his attentions.
 
 Just as I was issuing from the mansion, Lady 
 Mangold's equipage drove up ; and on perceiving 
 me, she beckoned me to approach the window of 
 her carriage. I however affected not to notice 
 her : whereupon she immediately alighted and ac- 
 costed me with a smirking countenance. 
 
 " You did not see me, Miss Traflford," she said, 
 with a lisp that was half affected and half pro- 
 duced by the false teeth. "I suppose you have 
 settled that little affair for me ?" 
 
 " Indeed, my lady," I answered, very distantly 
 and very coldly, " I have not spoken a word upon 
 the subject." 
 
 " Ob, I understand !" she ejaculated, with an 
 angry toss of the head, which made the immense 
 plumes of her bonnet wave like those on the head of 
 a horse attached to a mourning coach. " You are 
 olTended because I did not speak to you the day 
 before yesterday at the shop in Eegcnt Street. 
 But you know it was impossible ; and if poor dear 
 Lord Mangold had been alive " 
 
 " So fsr from ofTonded, madam," I interrupted 
 her, " I had erery reason to rejoice that you did 
 not condescend to recognise me as an act^uaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " "Well, I am sure. Miss Trafford ! You forget 
 yourself!" exclaimed the old lady : but instanta- 
 neously relapsing into her smirking mood, she 
 said, " Come, you and I must not be bad friends. 
 For if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive 
 But however, this little affair must be managed 
 for me. I have ordered my costume — it is all but 
 finished, — beautiful flowing robes of white and 
 azure, so as to have a celestial appearance ! And 
 I have got the zone too — the zone of the Goddess 
 of Beauty ! I have been studying the dresses in 
 the Pantheon of Heathen Mythology. I shall 
 
 have a silver crescent on my brow By the bye, 
 
 my robes will all be edged with the most beautiful 
 lace, although that part of it is not exactly in the 
 Pantheon : but it will be modernizing the dress 
 as it were. I already feel myself the Goddess ; 
 and my French maid assures me I shall look 
 divine. If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive 
 But why are you hurrying off ?" 
 
 " Because I have no more time to bestow upon 
 your ladyship," I answered, as I stepped into the 
 Normans' carriage that was waiting for me. 
 
 " But you must positively go back to the 
 Duchess," exclaimed Lady Mangold, "and com- 
 plete this arrangement. You can say you had 
 forgotten it. I will take a drive round the Park 
 in the meantime " 
 
 "I beg to decline any interference on your 
 ladyship's behalf," I said. 
 
 "This is abominable. Miss Trafford!" she cried, 
 in a perfect fury of vexation. " If ow that I have 
 gone to all the expense for the silver crescent — the 
 zone studded with paarls— the beautiful robes of 
 azure and white satin— the costly lace " 
 
 " The lace, madam," I answered, in a very low 
 tone, so that the servants might not overhear me 
 —and I looked her fixedly in the countenance, — 
 " the lace, madam, cost you nothing— and you 
 know it I Beware how you again insult me with 
 your supercilious pride and affected disgust." 
 
 No language can depict the hideousness of 
 aspect which Lady Mangold's countenance assumed 
 as I thus addressed her. Her small reptile-like 
 eyes gleamed with the most malignant rage: she 
 
 ) gasped for a moment — and then said, " Insolent 
 1 minx ! I will be bitterly revenged against you ! 
 
 If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive " 
 
 I But I made an impatient sign for the footman 
 
 I to close the door of the carriage ; and the next 
 
 I moment the equipage rolled away from the front 
 
 ! of Ardleigh House. It had not proceeded very 
 
 1 far before I caught sight of Lord Frederick 
 
 Eavenscliffe, who was walking along Piccadilly. 
 
 j He immediately made a sign for the coachman to 
 
 I pull up ; and approaching the carriage-window, he 
 
 said, " I have just seen that gentleman and lady 
 
 ' who took charge of you the other night at the 
 
 theatre. I did not think I should recognise them 
 
 so easily— but I did. The recollectii»a flashed to 
 
 j my mind in a moment." 
 
 j " Where are they ?" I asked. 
 
 I "There — in that shop," he replied. "They 
 
 ' alighted only a few moments back from that dash< 
 
 ing phaeton." 
 
 j I could scarcely repress an ejaculation of 
 mingled anger and astonishment, when on looking 
 out of the carriage-window I at once recognised 
 the equipage belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Parks. 
 ' " Will you come and speak to them r" asked 
 Lord Frederick, "I shall be happy to escort 
 
 j you " 
 
 "'No — I think the occasion inconvenient," I 
 
 answered. "That gentleman and lady are evi- 
 
 , dently shopping— it will look strange to introduce 
 
 ; myself in such circumstances " 
 
 " Well, if you think so, Miss Percy," rejoined 
 Lord Frederick, " you must wait a better oppor- 
 , tunity. Shall I inquire who they are ?" 
 i " No," I responded. " All things considered, it 
 is not worth while." 
 
 < He raised his hat, and passed on : and as the 
 
 ' carriage continued its way, I reflected most pain- 
 
 fully on the discovery I had just made. That Mr. 
 
 , and Mrs. Parks had wilfully abandoned me into 
 
 the power of Edwin St. Clair, I had not a doubt : 
 
 ! while their complicity in the former outrage, 
 
 which was directed by Colonel Bellew, was equally 
 
 apparent. 
 
 " They are infamous people," I said to myself; 
 " and Lady Lilla Essendine is deceived in them. 
 She fancied that they were innocent of that com- 
 plicity : but I have now the fullest conviction of 
 their guilty connivance. Oh! they would have 
 ruined me, whom they had known as a child! — 
 and how narrowly have I escaped the toils which 
 they helped to set for the purpose of enmeshing 
 me!" 
 
 I should here observe that I had only seen the 
 Parkses three or four times since the night of the 
 grand entertainment; and I had accepted no sub- 
 sequent invitations to their house. This refusal 
 on my part had not arisen from any suspicion 
 that I had entertained— but simply because I did 
 not like them ; and mine was never a nature to 
 affect a friendship where it was not really expe- 
 rienced. I resolved to avail myself of the first 
 opportunity to let Mr. and Mrs. Parks know that 
 I had accidentally fathomed the treacherous con- 
 duct which they believed to be concealed: but I 
 did not choose to travel out of my way to seek 
 such an occasion. 
 
 I had to appear at the theatre in the evening; 
 and I returned to Hunter Sireet very much 
 fatigued. Instead of joioing Mr. and Mrs. Nor-
 
 ELLES Pr:r.CT; or, the MEMOIES of an ACTESS3, 
 
 105 
 
 man and Juliet at the supper-table, I retired at 
 once to my cbamber ; and on seeking my couch, 
 soon fell asleep. Painful visions began to troop 
 into my mind, and throng as it were with ghastly 
 ehapes and awful forms around my soul. Anon 
 from amidst a crowd of black shapes, horrible in 
 their fantastic ugliness, the countenance of Edwin 
 St. Clair seemed to be looking out upon me ; and 
 methought that the wicked expression which I had 
 BO often noticed in his face, was now enhanced into 
 a more fearful sardonism than ever I had actually 
 known it to wear. It appeared to me that I was 
 gazing upon it in cold horror, — when with one of 
 those rapid and singular changes that occur in the 
 kaleidoscope of dreams, that face disappeared; 
 and instead of it I was now contemplating that of 
 Lady Lilla Essendine. Her countenance seemed 
 marble pale, like that of a corpse : the eyes were 
 fixed and stony in their gaze : the dishevelled hair 
 hung straight down upon her shoulders and her 
 No. 14. — Ellen Pekcx. 
 
 back, as if it were all damp with the clammy doTS 
 of the grave. I endeavoured to speak — to cry out 
 — to ask what she wanted with me — and why she 
 looked upon me thus. But I had not the power: 
 I was spell-bound by the rigid bonds of night- 
 mare; and a cold horror sat upon me. All the 
 hideous shapes which had previously gathered 
 round my bed, and in the midst of which Lady 
 Lilla's form had succeeded to the place previously 
 occupied by St. Clair, had now merged into their 
 congenial surrounding darkness ; and I fancied 
 that I was left alone with her ladyship. There she 
 stood, in the middle of the chamber, — clothed in 
 white, motionless as a corpse that stood upright 
 by some unknown means, — and the eyes fixing 
 upon me their stony glare. 
 
 But once more did a change take place in what 
 seemed to be passing before me. The form of 
 Lady Lilla Essendine was yielding up its position 
 to some other that waa absorbing it, or expanding
 
 106 
 
 JlLLESr PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AN ACTEES8. 
 
 from it, as one object in a dissolving view gives 
 way to another, or rather seems to change into it. 
 And now I all of a sudden became awars that 
 there was a light burning in the room. I could 
 distinguish the taper upon the toilet-table: I 
 seemed likewise to have the recollection that I 
 had not extinguished it ere retiring to my couch. 
 And the form that I at present beheld in the 
 chamber, was clothed in white, as Lady Lilla's had 
 been : but beyond this I had no power of distin- 
 guishing the countenance or the contours of the 
 shape that was there. Slowly into my fancy stole 
 the idea that a low moaning sound was being 
 wafted to my ear. I made a mighty effort to cast 
 off the spell which retained me voiceless and 
 motionless j and then it all in an instant appeared 
 as if the shape on which I was looking glided 
 away. 
 
 I awoke — or else became completely awake from 
 that which was previously a mere half-slumber ; 
 and I was quivering with terror. My heart was 
 beating so loudly that I could hear it as plain as 
 if I were thumping myself on the chest; and so 
 violent was this palpitation that it was accom- 
 panied by a painful feeling as if the heart itself 
 must burst. My forehead was bathed in a cold 
 perspiration : I had experienced a prolonged and 
 terrific fright. The taper was burning on the 
 toilet-table ; and though, as a matter of course, I 
 knew that the greater portion of what I had seen, 
 or fancied I had seen, was merely a vision, yet 
 was there a strong impression upon my mind that 
 I had actually beheld something at the end. 
 
 I sat up in bed, and strove to reason with my- 
 self. It was about half-past eleven when I had re- 
 tired to my chamber : my watch told me that it was 
 now past two in the morning. Could Mrs. Nor- 
 man, or Juliet, or one of the female-servants have 
 entered my room for any reason ? This was 
 scarcely to be supposed : for if so, the person thus 
 entering would not have fled precipitately the in- 
 stant I gave signs of awakening. I was not in the 
 habit of locking the door : nor had I done so on 
 this particular night. I had a strong inclination 
 to rise and inquire whether any one was up : but 
 I had always entertained an aversion to the expo- 
 sure of any idle fears, or to be deemed weak- 
 minded. I therefore remained in bed ; and after a 
 while sleep revisited my eyes. 
 
 I awoke at my usual hour in the morning ; and 
 when the sunlight was shining through the win- 
 dow, I could afford to smile at the fears which my 
 dream had left behind during the night. Still there 
 was a lingering fancy, though now slight to a 
 degree, that I had really seen some shape ; and I 
 recurred to the theory that if this were true, some 
 inmate of the house must have entered my cham- 
 ber. In that case, I thought to myself I should 
 hear of it at the breakfast-table: but the meal 
 passed over, and nothing was said by either Mrs. 
 Norman or Juliet which had the slightest reference 
 to the subject. I had a great mind to question the 
 
 lady's-maid when I met her alone in the course of 
 the morning : but I did not like to do so ; and as 
 she said nothing to me, I gladly persuaded myself 
 that the end of ail that had terrified me was as 
 much a vision as the preceding facts. 
 
 According to an appointment made on the pre- 
 ceding day, I was to be at Ardleigh House pre- 
 cisely at noon. On alighting from the carriage at 
 
 the steps of that mansion, I beheld a short, slightly- 
 made, plain-featured, and somewhat insignificant- 
 looking man, holding a discussion with a beggar. 
 
 " It is all very well for you to tell me that you 
 are hungry and in want," he was saying in a sen- 
 tentious manner ; " but you should endeavour to 
 find work. You are evidently strong and able- 
 bodied, and have no business to he a vagrant. If 
 I were doing my duty to the requirements of the 
 law and to society in general, I should give you 
 into custody ; but as it is, I shall make you a pre- 
 sent of a shilling, in the hope that the lesson I 
 have given you will not be without its salutary 
 effects." 
 
 Such was the long speech which I heard, while 
 alighting from the carriage and waiting on the 
 steps for a few moments while the footman got 
 out some books that I had brought, and which 
 contained descriptions of theatrical costumes. The 
 insignificant-looking little gentleman — who was 
 about fifty years of age and was dressed with great 
 plainness — gave the beggar the shilling ; and then 
 he walked away with an air of immense satisfac- 
 tion at the course he had adopted, the eloquence 
 he had displayed, and the circumstance that he 
 had thus shown off in my presence. 
 
 I was conducted up-stairs to the drawing-room, 
 where the footman requested me to wait for a 
 few minutes and her Grace would soon join me. 
 A door leading to an inner room stood partially 
 open: but I was not immediately aware that any 
 persons were in that room :— neither did the foot- 
 man seem to be conscious of the fact, for he im- 
 mediately retired without proceeding to announce 
 to the Duchess (who was actually there) that I had 
 arrived. There was nearly a minute of profound 
 silence; and I was looking at some beautiful prints 
 which lay upon the table, when I was suddenly 
 startled by hearing the voice of the Duchess speak- 
 ing in the adjoining room. 
 
 " Tell me, Herbert, what is your decision ?" 
 were the words that thus met my ears. 
 
 " My decision, mother," replied the young Mar- 
 quis of Dabymple, " is that which I have already 
 given. I will not consent to marry Lady Cecilia 
 Urban !" 
 
 " Undutiful boy !" ejaculated the Duchess : " is 
 
 this the reward for all the kindness But tell 
 
 me Herbert," she said, abruptly checking herself, 
 and thus relapsing into a milder tone, " what has 
 produced this change in your sentiments ?" 
 
 "No change has taken place, mother," rejoined 
 the Marquis. " I never loved Lady Cecilia Ur- 
 ban——" 
 
 " Hush! some one is in the next room !" inter- 
 rupted the Duchess. 
 
 I had purposely thrown down a book somewhat 
 heavily upon the table in order to give an intima- 
 tion of my presence, as I did not choose to play 
 the part of an eavesdropper, nor to continue a 
 listener to affairs of family privacy. The Duchess 
 of Ardleigh almost immediately made her appear- 
 ance, followed by her son ; and a glance showed 
 me that they were both embarrassed. But the 
 Duchess, with the ready tact of good-breeding, 
 quickly recovered her self-possession ; and she said 
 with an affable smile, " I hope you have not been 
 kept waiting long. Miss Trafford ?" 
 
 I saw that the remark, though put with apolo- 
 getic courtesy, was in reality intended as a ques-
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIKS OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 107 
 
 tion to elicit how long I had been waiting there, 
 and how much I might have heard of the discourse 
 that had taken place in the next room ; and there- 
 fore, to put the Duchess and the Marquis com- 
 pletely at their ease, I said, "I have only just ar- 
 rived, my lady." 
 
 I now proceeded to exhibit the books of cos- 
 tumes which I had brought ; and I could not help 
 noticing that the young Marquis, while apparently 
 entering into the spirit of the discussion which was 
 taking place, was nevertheless in reality thought- 
 ful and preoccupied. Two or three times I ciught 
 him gazing intently upon my countenance ; and I 
 found a vague suspicion of something which I did 
 not like floating through my mind. The thought 
 for an instant struck me that I would put on an 
 air of cold reserve towards Lord Dalrymple : but 
 the next moment I discarded the plan— and I even 
 blushed at my own arrogance in assuming that 
 there was any necessity for such a proceeding on 
 my part. 
 
 All of a sudden the door opened with a certain 
 degree of violence ; and in rushed that very per- 
 sonage whom I had seen lecturing the mendicant 
 on the steps in front of the mansion, and whom I 
 had regarded as so insignificant-looking an indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 " This is excellent !" he exclaimed : " nothing 
 could be more apropos ! In full conclave, I see ! 
 — and here is Mr. Poaseblossom who has come 
 in the very nick of time to take part in the 
 council !" 
 
 " You know, my lord," said a voice speaking from 
 behind the door, " that I am as ignorant of theatri- 
 cal matters as — as — a horse is of algebra." 
 
 " Nonsense, Peaseblossom !" cried the insiguifi- 
 cant-looking personage, who I however began to 
 suspect must in reality be a more important one 
 than I had fancied. " Come in, I say !" — and 
 dragging his friend into the room, he closed the 
 door. 
 
 The person whom he had thus forcibly intro- 
 duced, was a short, stout, elderly gentleman, with 
 a certain sleekness of appearance which gave him 
 an air alike sanctimonious and submissive. He 
 had a red face, but with anything rather than a 
 jolly look : for the expression of his countenauce 
 was subdued and difndsnt. He wore a white 
 cravat, with very high shirt collars projecting in 
 sharp peaks beyond the corners of his mouth : a 
 black surtout coat — a buff waistcoat — and grey 
 trousers, which seemed very lar^e as far as the 
 knees and very scanty as they descended towards 
 the black gaiters which covered his shoes, com- 
 pleted his attire. Nothing could exceed the 
 mingled disdain and hauteur with which the 
 Duchess, slightly rising from her chair, inclined 
 her head towards this individual; while the Mar- 
 quis of Dalrymple nodded in a half-patronising, 
 half-compassionating manner, as if thus recog- 
 nising one whom he pitied and despised, but yet 
 could not find it in his heart to be altogether cold 
 or unkind to. 
 
 " Really, my lord," said the Duchess, address- 
 ing herself to the insignificant-looking personage, 
 whom I may as well at once announce to be none 
 other than the Duke of Ardleigh, " this interrup- 
 tion is most provoking " 
 
 "Provoking, my dear?" ejaculated the Duke, 
 with an air half astonished and half deprecatory : 
 
 " you surprise me ! I thought you would be do- 
 lighted to Lave the advice of myself and my friend 
 Peaseblossom." 
 
 " I told your Grace," said Mr. Peaseblossom, 
 who looked very uncomfortable indeed, " that we 
 had better not intrude; for I feel myself as much 
 out of place in such a conference as — as — a bishop 
 would be at a free-and-easy." 
 
 "Nonsense, Peaseblossom!" cried the Duke: 
 " her Grace is only joking. She is so funny some- 
 times !" 
 
 " My lord !" exclaimed the Duchess of Ardleigh, 
 drawing herself up with a queenly hauteur : " tlio 
 word which you have used is unknown in my dic- 
 tionary. But since you persist in remaining, have 
 the kindness not to interrupt the arrangements 
 which I am settling with Miss Trafford." 
 
 " Ah ! I am glad to make Miss Trafford's ac- 
 quaintance," ejaculated the Duke, who seemed a 
 good-natured man enough, but excessively frivo- 
 lous, weak-minded, and conceited. " Sit down, 
 Peaseblossom. Allow me to introduce you to Miss 
 Trafford. Ah! by the bye, you just now heard 
 me. Miss Traiford, reading a lecture to a man upon 
 the steps. I rather think I did it well. As an 
 hereditary legislator, and one who has the awful 
 responsibility of making laws for this country, I 
 cannot tolerate vagrancy on the part of the able- 
 bodied. Can I, Peaseblossom ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, my lord," responded the hanger- 
 on, wi.10 was now sitting diffidently upon the edge 
 of a chair, looking askance at the Duchess, of 
 whom he was evidently much in awe. " To me, 
 my lord, a sturdy mendicant is as great an eye- 
 sore as — as — a sore eye." 
 
 "Capital!" ejaculated the Duke, laughing and 
 rubbing his hands : " very good, Peaseblossom I 
 By the bye. Miss Trafford, you were excellent in 
 Juliet the other night. You died admirably ! Did 
 you not hear somebody cry out 'Encore 1 Tliat 
 was me. And I know that I only spoke the uni- 
 versal sentiment; for everybody wished to see you 
 dio over again." 
 
 " My lord," interposed the Duchess, her cheeks 
 flushed with mingled shame and indignation, and 
 her haughty lips wreathing with contempt, on uer 
 husband's account; " with your permission we will 
 proceed in the final arrangements which I am 
 making with Miss Trafford." 
 
 " Very good, my dear," ejaculated the Duke, 
 who maintained the most perfect good humour. 
 " Her Grace's observations, Peaseblossom, are al- 
 ways well-timed. She is so very facetious !" 
 
 " Facetious, my lord !" said the Duchess, dis- 
 dainfully. " I never condescend to jesting or 
 jokin;^." 
 
 " Of course not," inteijected Mr. Peaseblossom, 
 doubtless thinking to pay her Grace a compli- 
 ment. " Your ladyship knows your position bet- 
 ter. For your ladyship to be facetious, would 
 place you in as false a position as— as — an ele- 
 phant in a flower-garden." 
 
 Not the slightest notice did the haughty and 
 dignified Duchess of Ardleigh take of this singu- 
 larly attempted piece of flattery : but she turned 
 to address some observation to me. 
 
 " One word, rav dear, before you proceed 1" 
 ejaculated the Duke, as something appeared to 
 strike him. " Tlie principal piece, I believe, is to 
 be ' Henry the Eighth ;' and there are to be ama-
 
 teurs. Well, then, why not let my friond Pease- 
 blossom play Henry the Eighth ?" 
 
 " My lord ! can you think of such a thiug ?" ex- 
 claimed the Duchess, now becoming really irri- 
 tated. 
 
 " Well then," rejoined the Duke, " as I know 
 he wants to make himself useful, let him beat the 
 big drum in the orchestra." 
 
 " I, my lord?" said Mr. Peaseblossom in dismay. 
 "I know no more of beating the big drum than — 
 than— a rhinoceros does of dancing a hornpipe " 
 
 "Ob, nonsense, Peaseblossom!" ejaculated the 
 Dulje: "there are to be amateurs ia the orchestra 
 as well as on the stage; and I intend to play the 
 first fiddle. I flatter myself I am rather good on 
 the violin. But you have heard me, Pease- 
 blossom ?" 
 
 " I have, my lord," answered the sycophant ; 
 "and I was as much delighted as— as— an ape with 
 a filbert." 
 
 " Well then, it's settled," said the Duke com- 
 placently. "I shall be First Fiddle — and you, 
 Peaseblossom, will be the Big Drum unless in- 
 deed you prefer the trombone ?" 
 
 "My lord," interjected the Duchess, bending 
 upon her husband a severe look, " I beg that you 
 will not interfere with my arrangements, nor seek 
 to drag in your friends, who in the first instance 
 are unwilling " 
 
 " Friends ?" cried the Duke : " there's only one 
 of them— worthy Ned Peaseblossom— who, as your 
 Grace is aware, is devotedly attached to our family. 
 But come, Peaseblossom — we will leave them to 
 their arrangements j you and I will retire to the 
 library— and I will play you half-a-dozen tunes on 
 my violin. I cracked it yesterday — but that is of 
 no consequence — and I've got another coming 
 home to-day. Ah ! by the bye, I will read you the 
 speech that I am learning, to be delivered at the 
 next meeting of my tenantry at Bentham Park. 
 Tou shall be there, Peaseblossom — you will be use- 
 ful— I will give you the clue to the points which I 
 waut to be particularly cheered. Then you your- 
 self can make a speech " 
 
 " Indeed, my lord," replied Mr. Peaseblossom, 
 •'I shall be as much out of place in making a 
 speech as — as — the Lord Chancellor would be as 
 Pantaloon in a pantomime." 
 
 "Nonsense!" cried the Duke. "Come to the 
 library, and I will give you a lesson in elocution." 
 
 The Duke and his friend now retired from the 
 drawing-room, evidently to the inQnite relief of 
 the Duchess, whom I caught glancing furtively at 
 me to ascertain what efi'ect this display of her hus- 
 band's ridiculous frivolity had produced. Of 
 course I assumed an air as if nothing extraor- 
 dinary had taken place. But I should add that 
 during the half- hour his Grace and Mr. Pease- 
 blossom had inflicted their presence upon us, the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple had remained pensive and 
 pre-occupied, taking little or no notice of what 
 was going on. Occasionally he looked at me : but 
 the moment I showed by ii glauce or a movement 
 that I was aware of being thus the object of bis 
 contemplation, he bent his eyes downward. 
 
 The arrangements for the private theatricals 
 were finnllv settled ; and I took my departure from 
 Ardleigh House. 
 
 CHAPTER XXr. 
 
 THE PEIVATE THEATEICALS. 
 
 The evening fixed for the private theatricals 
 arrived; and the largest apartment in Ardleigh 
 House had been splendidly fitted up for the pur- 
 pose. At that extremity where the stage was 
 erected, there was a side -door in the corner, opeu- 
 ing into another suite of rooms ; and as this door 
 was, so to speak, behind the scenes, it communi- 
 cated with every convenience for the proper ar- 
 rangement of the proceedings. Separate dressing 
 rooms were allotted to myself and those profes- 
 sionals whom I had engaged for the occasion, in- 
 cluding Mr. and Mrs. Norman. The amateurs, 
 both gentlemen and ladies, arrived in their car- 
 riages already dressed in the appropriate costumes 
 in which they had to appear. In front of the 
 stage there was accommodation for seven or eight 
 hundred spectators ; and these consisted of the 
 elite of the fashionable world. The Duchess had 
 succeeded in preventing her frivolous husband from 
 taking auy part in the evening's proceedings, 
 either on the stage or in the orchestra ; and Lady 
 Mangold had not persevered in her design of re- 
 presenting Venus after the conversation which 
 took place between herself and me, when I so sig- 
 nificantly gave her to understand that I was aware 
 of her theft at the linendraper's. 
 
 A peep from behind the scenes, previous to the 
 drawing up of the curtain, afforded a magnificent 
 coup d'ceil. The apartment was of a loftiness pro- 
 portionate with its spaciousness; and it was bril- 
 liantly lighted. Immediately in front of the stage 
 was the orchestra, consisting of a splendid band 
 accustomed to attend fashionable reunions ; and 
 immediately behind the orchestra was the seat oc- 
 cupied by the Duke and Duchess, their family, and 
 their most intimate friends. The Duke and 
 Duchess had several other children besides the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple ; and all except the 
 youngest, who was an infant, were present with 
 their parents. Lady Mangold was likewise there 
 — her wrinkled face expressing a vixenish discon- 
 tent — and her withered arms, which were bare to 
 the shoulders and laden with bracelets, keeping in 
 continuous motion with the exercise of agitating 
 her fan. Mr. Peaseblossom— in a white waist- 
 coat, a dress coat, and black pantaloons, and with 
 shirt- collars higher and more pointed than ever— 
 was seated next to the Duke. 
 
 Near the Duchess was a young lady of a grand 
 and remarkable beauty. She was tall ; and though 
 not more than eighteen years of age, had an aspect 
 that might be pronounced commanding. Her 
 dark hair was arranged in bands : her profile was 
 aquiline — her countenance a perfect oval. Her 
 eyes were large, dark, and full of fire — eyes that 
 seemed incapable of melting with those tender 
 emotions that usually influence the looks— eyes 
 that bespoke a strong mind as well as strong pas- 
 sions, and in whose lustrous orbs were condensed 
 worlds of disdain, hauteur, pride, and scornfulness. 
 The brows were thickly pencilled : but they were 
 well divided and nobly arched. The complexion 
 of this lady was pale, with the slightest and most 
 delicate tint of the brunette : her lips, which were
 
 BLI-EIf PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3 
 
 109 
 
 somewbat full, had the luscious hue of the cherry 
 rather than the vivid redness of the coral. Her 
 neck was long, arching' proudly, and carrying 
 superbly rather than gracefully the head which was 
 poised upon it. Her figure was well formed — 
 sufficiently slender as yet for her youthful age — 
 but giving promise of expanding into ampler pro- 
 portions with the growth of womanhood. The 
 arms were superbly modelled ; and the dress of 
 dark purple velvet which she wore, seemed admir- 
 ably suited for her peculiar style of beauty. No — 
 it was not hiauti/ that invested her : for the term 
 " beauty " irresistibly associates itself in the mind 
 with all that is soft and charming and fascinating 
 in woman, especially when allied with youthful- 
 ness : but this lady was haughtily handsome— and 
 there was something in her which overawed rather 
 than attracted, and which instead of winning 
 tho heart of an observer, repelled and made it 
 afraid. 
 
 When peeping from behind the scenes, I could 
 not help suffering my gaze to linger upon this 
 lady whom I have just been describing, until I felt 
 the thought stealing in unto my mind that if I 
 happened to become acquainted with her I could 
 not possibly like her. Casting my looks slowly 
 over the assembled audience to the farther extre- 
 mity of the room, I was dazzled by the brilliant 
 scene. The ladies were all dressed with either 
 richness or elegance, and in very many instances 
 with both combined ; for this is not always the 
 case with female toilets in England, even in the 
 highest sphere of society. I was astonished at the 
 splendid galaxy of beauty which thus greeted my 
 Tision : for it cannot be denied that the British 
 aristocracy boasts the most remarkable specimens 
 of feminine loveliness which the civilized world can 
 produce. Lady Lilla Essendine was not present : 
 I have already said that she lived in comparative 
 seclusion, and mixed but little in that society 
 which, by her rank at least, she was entitled to 
 frequent. 
 
 The performances commenced j and in due 
 course I appeared in the character of Queen Cathe- 
 rine. As in respect to other dramatic personifi- 
 cations, I had made this character my own ; and 
 though I had carefully studied numerous critiques 
 upon the style in which Mrs. Siddons had repre- 
 sented it, yet I had done this more for the purpose 
 of instruction by comparison than for actual imi- 
 tation. It was my ambition to be an original 
 actress, if I may use the term. The costume which 
 1 wore was however so far like that in which Mrs. 
 Siddons was wont to appear that it most appro- 
 priately suited the fashion of the period in which 
 the incidents of the drama were cast. There is 
 not generally much applause at private theatricals 
 in high life : but when I made my appearance I 
 was received with an amount of enthusiasm which 
 could not be otherwise than highly flattering. A 
 glance however at the front seats showed mo that 
 Lady Mangold was lolling back with an air of af- 
 fected indifierence, and fanning herself with an 
 assumed listlessness, as if nothing extraordinary 
 nor interesting was taking place : while that proud 
 dark-eyed lady whom I have described, seemed to 
 be regarding me with a cold haughty disdain. The 
 Duchess favoured me with an affable smile of cor- 
 dial approbation; and just as the applause was 
 dying away, I distinctly heard the Duke say to the 
 
 toad-eating hanger-on, " What a pity it is, 
 Peaseblossom, that you refused to be Henry the 
 Eighth !" 
 
 1 was predetermined to throw all my energies 
 into the part which I had to perform, and to exer- 
 cise all my abilities. I cared nothing for the 
 superciliousness of Lady Mangold nor for the cold 
 disdain of the haughty dark-eyed lady. As on 
 former occasions, I identified myself with the cha- 
 racter which I was representing ; and I was sufli- 
 ciently carried away by the enthusiasm of my own 
 feelings to give effect to the various phases of the 
 personification, without violating the truth of na- 
 ture. My success was therefore complete. 
 
 The Marquis of Dalrymple performed as an 
 amateur in the same piece; and I could not help 
 observing that he surveyed me with unmistakable 
 admiration. This was not however visible to the 
 spectators: but it was remarked by some of those 
 who performed with me ; for during an interval 
 between the Acts, Mrs. Norman laughingly whis- 
 pered that I had evidently won the young Mar- 
 quis's heart ; and another professional actress said 
 to me, with a gay sly look, " I think, Miss Traf- 
 ford, there was even more admiration in a certain 
 quarter upon the stage than there was amongst 
 the audience — though even that was great." 
 
 "Indeed!" I observed, choosing to appear as if 
 I did not understand the allusion. 
 
 " Ob, yes !" replied the actress, who was a 
 good-natured young woman, of a cheerful dispo- 
 sition, and by no means mischievously inclined: 
 " the Marquis never once took his eyes off you. 
 Pray take care— or Lady Cecilia Urban will be- 
 come terribly jealous !" 
 
 " Lady Cecilia Urban ?" I said, now suddenly 
 recollecting that I had once before heard that 
 name mentioned, on the occasion when I was for 
 a few moments an unwilling listener to the dis- 
 course of the Duchess and her son. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure !" responded the actress. 
 " Have you not heard it rumoured that the Mnr- 
 quis of Dalrymple is to marry Lady Cecilia ? 
 Come here, and take a peep. You see that dark- 
 eyed girl, with the pale complexion and a cold 
 proud expression of countenance — but with the 
 large eyes that seem to burn " 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " And that is Lady Cecilia 
 Urban ?" 
 
 Here our colloquy was cut short by the ringing 
 of the bell for the drawing up of the curtain on 
 the final Act. When it was concluded, and the 
 curtain had again fallen, I heard the Duke's voice 
 vociferously shouting my name ; and it was echoed 
 by that of Mr. Peaseblossom. The cry now be- 
 came almost general ; and the young Marquis 
 hastened to accost me in tho adjoining apartment 
 which had served as the green-room. 
 
 " Will you permit me to lead you forward, Miss 
 Trafford ?" he said, proffering his hand. 
 
 " I think, my lord," I answered, with a smile, 
 " that it ought to be Mr. Norman, as he has per- 
 formed the part of the King." 
 
 "No— suffer his lordship to have that honour," 
 interjected Mr. Norman— thus, though quite in- 
 nocently, throwing me into the very situation 
 that I was endeavouring to avoid. 
 
 " Come, Miss Trafford !" said the Marquis, 
 seizing my hand, while his countenance was glow- 
 ing with admiration and delight. "Do you not
 
 110 
 
 TSZT.-E-S PE-RCT ; OK, TBtB MEMOIES OF AIT ACTEEgS. 
 
 beai- how tlicy clamour P And there is my father's 
 voice above all !" 
 
 I could not possibly refuse : I could no longer 
 hesitate. The Marquis of Dalrympio led me be- 
 fore the curtain : all the gentlemen present rose 
 up to give effect to their applause— while most 
 of the ladies waved their kerchiefs for a similar 
 aim. A glance however showed me that the 
 malignant old creature, Lady Mangold, was fan- 
 uing herself desperately; and another glance, 
 which, instinctively as it were, I flung at Lady 
 Cecilia Urban, was encountered by the lightnings 
 of jealousy aud rage which were visibly flashing 
 forth from her burning eyes. I acknowledged 
 with several low curtseys the applause which was 
 almost general ; and the young Marquis led me 
 off the stage. 
 
 On passing into the green-room, we found it 
 deserted : for the other performers had retired to 
 their dressing-rooms to prepare for the next piece. 
 I bad thrown myself half exhausted upon a chair 
 before I bad time to notice that I was alone there 
 with the Marquis. He hastened to present me 
 with some wine-and-water, which I took— for the 
 thought bad suddenly occurred to me that I must 
 not by any indication on my part show how I 
 suspected that I was the object of the young 
 nobleman's admiration. As he received the glass 
 from me again, be pressed my hand — slightly 
 enough, it is true— but yet with a significancy 
 that made me start and for a moment look in- 
 dignant. 
 
 "Oh, be not offended, Miss Trafford!" be ex- 
 claimed with entreaty in bis accents and enthu- 
 siasm in his looks, " Not for worlds would I 
 offend you ! No ! by heaven, I would sooner die 
 than merit your displeasure !" 
 
 " Enough, my lord," I said, somewhat coldly 
 and distantly ; and with a slight inclination of my 
 bead, I was about to leave the green-room. 
 
 " Stop one moment. Miss Trafford ! I beseech 
 you 1" cried the Marquis imploringly : " only one 
 instant !" 
 
 "You can have nothing to say to me, my 
 lord !" 
 
 " Then I will write to you !" he at once ejacu- 
 lated. " And fear not to receive my letter'— fear 
 nob to open it! — for by everything sacred, I am 
 incapable of giving you offence !" 
 
 I was immediately struck by a sense of the in- 
 convenience of becoming the object of such cor- 
 respondence as that with which the young Marquis 
 threatened me : and I therefore thought it better 
 to come to an explanation on the spot. Besides, 
 be was evidently generous-bearted — bis language 
 bad given me to understand the nature of the 
 proposal ho intended to make me — I had no right 
 to bo offended with him for loving me and mean- 
 ing honourably towards me — and I therefore 
 resolved at once to relieve him of all suspense, 
 and put an end to any vain hope that he might be 
 cherishing. I therefore stopped : but still it was 
 not for me to take the initiative in the explana- 
 tions that were to ensue. 
 
 The animation of joy beamed upon the really 
 handsome countenance of the young Marquis when 
 be perceived that I lingered ; and be went on to say, 
 " Oh ! it is better that I should tell you now in 
 words from my lips how much I love you, rather 
 than wait for an opportunity to communicate in 
 
 writing ! I have not known you long — our per- 
 sonal acquaintance indeed is only of a fovv days' 
 date — but on the stage I had previously admired 
 you— and since you have visited at Ardleigh House 
 I have learnt to love you. It is an honourable 
 proposal which I make. Away with all considera- 
 tions of rank and social differences " 
 
 He had now reached a point at which I could 
 becomingly interrupt him ; for there was no longer 
 the slightest doubt in respect to his meaning. 
 
 " My lord," I said, " hear me !" — and I spoke 
 firmly, though perhaps with a certain compas- 
 sionating expression in my tone. "I thank your 
 lordship for the honour which you would have in- 
 tended me : but I am unable to accept it. So 
 much generous frankness on your part demands an 
 equal confidence in return. My heart is engaged 
 and my troth is plighted to another !" 
 
 I cannot describe the effect which this announce- 
 ment produced upon the young Marquis of Dal- 
 rymple. He became pale as death : be staggered 
 back, and seemed as if he were about to fall. 
 
 " For heaven's sake compose your feelings, my 
 lord !" I said, smitten with affright. " Some 
 one may come suddenly! For your sake— for 
 mine " 
 
 " Yes, yes — I will be calm !" he said : " but, O 
 God! you know not the blow that you have 
 stricken me ! Tell me — are your affections irrevo- 
 cably engaged ? are your vows pledged beyond re- 
 call ? Do not — do not think," be hastily added, 
 " that I would seek to persuade you to play a per- 
 fidious or ungenerous part towards him whom I 
 must regard as my rival : but if there be any hope 
 for me — even the slightest " 
 
 "There is none, my lord!" I interrupted him. 
 "And now, for heaven's sake, assume a calmness 
 of demeanour as if nothing of all this had taken 
 place !" 
 
 With these words I glided from the green-room ; 
 and in the adjoining apartment I met Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman, appareUed for the next piece. I 
 had so far regained my own self-possession that 
 they did not perceive there was anything peculiar 
 with me; and as I was not to appear in the after- 
 pieces, I began to busy myself in seeing that all 
 the arrangements were progressing favourably. In 
 a few minutes I again beheld the young Marquis,— 
 who looked exceedingly pensive, though evidently 
 exerting every effort to conceal the sources of his 
 trouble. I did not avoid him : I spoke kindly to 
 him — and endeavoured by my manner to give him 
 to understand that though I could not possibly be 
 angry at his conduct^ yet that there was really no 
 hope, and that he must look upon me only as a 
 friend, if he thought fit so to regard me. 
 
 The after-pieces progressed to the satisfaction of 
 the audience; and at about eleven o'clock the per- 
 formances were over. All the ladies and gentle- 
 men who bad played as amateurs descended from 
 the stage into the body of the apartment, to join 
 their respective friends or relatives ; while we pro- 
 fessionals (as I may technically term ourselves) to 
 the number of about a dozen, were assembled in 
 the green-room. The young Marquis had likewise 
 left us ; and we were conversing on the satisfactory 
 mode in which the entertainments had been con- 
 ducted, when the steward of the ducal household 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " I am commissioned. Miss," he said, address-
 
 ELLEIf PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE83. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ing himself aside to me, '•' to acquaint you, on the 
 part (if lier Grace, that supper is provided for 
 yourself and your companions in an adjoining 
 room :"— then in a low whisper the steward added, 
 " Her Grace would cheerfully have had yov,, 
 Miss, with her in the grand banqueting-room : 
 but " 
 
 He stopped short, and glanced round towards 
 my companions, who were grouped a little apart. 
 His look and manner were as much as to imply 
 that although the Duchess of Ardleigh would have 
 admitted me into the sphere of her own aristocratic 
 circle,— yet that she could not possibly extend the 
 same favour to my companions. Had it not been 
 for this slight which was thrown upon them, I 
 sliould have at once accepted on my own and their 
 behalf the separate entertainment which was pro- 
 vided for us. Indeed, if I had previously given 
 the matter a thought at all, it assuredly was not 
 with the idea that we were to be invited to partake 
 of the banquet given to the guests. But I was 
 suddenly fired with indignation at the treatment 
 which my companions were receiving, and in which 
 I also was included ; and I said aloud ta the ste- 
 ward, " We beg to decline the supper which her 
 Grace offers us through you." 
 
 The man looked astonished, and seemed as if he 
 could scarcely believe his own ears. The Normans 
 and the other actors and actresses instantaneously 
 comprehended that some indignity had been 
 offered, and that I had thus vindicated the inde- 
 pendent spirit of myself and them. But still they 
 gazed upon me with curiosity to know what it all 
 meant. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," I said, " her Grace the 
 Duchess of Ardleigh offers us a supper to be par- 
 taken of by ourselves in a separate room from that 
 where her Grace will entertain her own guests. 
 I have thought fit on your behalf and my own to 
 decline the proposal." 
 
 There was a murmur of applause on the part of 
 my companions ; and the steward, with a slight 
 bow, said, " Very well, Miss : I will report your 
 message to her Grace." 
 
 He thereupon retired. I did not choose to 
 wound the feelings of the Normans and of the 
 other professionals by informing them that a dif- 
 ferent treatment would have been observed to- 
 wards myself were it not for their presence : but I 
 has(eucd to represent to them that I considered an 
 indignity had been offered to the whole of us by a 
 proposal which was to consign us like a parcel of 
 menials to a separata and inferior table. Again 
 was my conduct applauded ; and I said, " l^a\s, 
 let us lose no time in taking our departure from 
 the mansion." 
 
 But at that moment the door was thrown open 
 by the steward; and the Duchess made her ap- 
 pearance, closely followed by her son the Marquis, 
 with the Duke and Mr. Peaaeblossom bringing up 
 the rear. 
 
 " My dear Miss Trafford," said the Duchess, 
 " I am really much concerned at a message which 
 the steward has brought back to me. I thought 
 that yourself and your companions would have ac- 
 cepted the little banquet " 
 
 " Not, my lady," I said, " when it was prof- 
 fered under circumstances which were calculated 
 to wound the feelings of those %vho had done their 
 best to interest and amuse your Grace's guests. 
 
 We were considered respectable enough to breathe 
 for a while the same atmosphere as yourselves : 
 but when our task was over, that respectability 
 suddenly seemed to cease. Ladies -and gentlemen 
 belonging to your own circle of society have, as 
 amateurs, been for the last three hours in our 
 company: but even tliey seem to feel that with 
 the close of the entertainments a barrier has sud- 
 denly sprung up between us and them. I am 
 aware, my lady, that there are immoral persons in 
 the dramatic world — but are there none in the 
 sphere of aristocracy ? and is the whole aristocracy 
 deemed characterless because of the misdeeds of 
 some of its members ? Why, then, should all who 
 belong to the stage be put under a common ban ? 
 Your Grace entrusted me with the selection of 
 those who were to appear before you this evening ; 
 and I would not have been guilty of such a viola- 
 tion of the trust confided to me as to introduce 
 into your presence any with whom I myself was 
 ashamed to associate." 
 
 The Duchess listened to me with the utmost at- 
 tention—indeed, I will say with every appearance 
 of a gracious affability. I grew warm as I pro- 
 ceeded : but if I spoke enthusiastically, yet it was 
 without vehemence or passion. 
 
 " Miss Trafford speaks the truth, mother !" ex- 
 claimed the young Marquis, as he stood forward 
 with a flushing countenance ; "and as I have been 
 permitted to join those ladies and gentlemen as an 
 amateur, I shall ask their leave to sup with them 
 in their own room and at their own table." 
 
 " But this cannot be allowed !" exclaimed the 
 Duke, now pushing his way to the front. "It 
 would be all very well if Miss Trafford only were 
 concerned would it not be all very well, Pease- 
 blossom ? Come, give us your opinion, man !" 
 
 " I, my lord ?" said the individual thus appealed 
 to. " I am no more competent to decide in such 
 a case than— than — an ass between two bundles of 
 hay." 
 
 " Miss Trafford," said the Duchesa, with an ap- 
 pealing look— and yet she did not the while throw 
 off that proud dignity which was habitual with 
 her,— "I am sure your own good sense will con- 
 vince you that nothing was farther from my pur- 
 pose than to offer the slightest indignity' •" 
 
 " We thank your Grace for this assurance," I 
 answered : " but under existing circumstances we 
 must persist in declining to accept of your Grace's 
 entertainment." 
 
 The Duchess could really say no more; and 
 bowing with a somewhat distant air, she retired 
 from the room,— the Duko and Mr. Peaseblossoui 
 following her. The Marquis of Dalrymplo how- 
 ever remained behind; and he said, "Ob, Miss 
 Trafford ! I would not for worlds that this hud 
 happened ! When I left yourself and your com- 
 panions immediately after the fall of the curtain, 
 it was to ask my mother what arrangements had 
 been made for your entertainment. Conceive 
 therefore my astonishment — my indignation — I 
 will even add my disgust — when I learnt " 
 
 " I beg that your lordship will say no more 
 upon the subject," I interrupted him : " but on 
 behalf of myself and my companions, I express 
 the gratitude which is due for the courtesy, the 
 kindness, and the goo 1 intentions your lonlship 
 has displayed towards us. Wo will now take our 
 departure."
 
 113 
 
 ELIiEN PEECY ; OB,, THE MEilOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 "Eiit is there nolhiug to be done?" esclaitned 
 the young nobleman, deeply concerned. " I would 
 not for the worJd that you should go away im- 
 pressed with aa idea of the iuhospitality of Ard- 
 leigh House !" 
 
 " Tliere is nothing further to be done, my lord," 
 I replied, " than for us to take our departure :— 
 and again we thank you for your courtesy." 
 
 The Marquis of Dalrymple slowly quitted the 
 room with an exceeding sorrowful countenance j 
 and when he had retired, Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 and the other actors and actresses signified their 
 approval of the course which I bad adopted. We 
 repaired to our respective dressing-rooms; and it 
 happened that the Normans and myself were the 
 last of the professionals to leave the mansion. As 
 we passed through the hall, we beheld the bril- 
 liant company proceeding from the theatre to the 
 banqueting -room; and as I glanced towards 
 them, my looks encountered those of Lady Cecilia 
 Urban. She was leaning on the arm of some 
 middle-aged gentleman; and her large coal-black 
 eyes flung upon me a glance of the haughtiest 
 disdain, which was accompanied with a slight 
 elevation of the head as a further expression of 
 her scorn. My self-possession was at that mo- 
 ment complete — and all the more so inasmuch as 
 I felt that I had just been doing my duty in re- 
 ference to the rejected supper. I therefore suf- 
 fered a slight smile of contempt and pity to waver 
 upon my lips ; and as I looked a little further 
 along the brilliant line of guests passing through 
 the hall, I caught eight of the wrinkled harridan 
 Lady Mangold, who was leaning on the arm of 
 an old beau as artificially made up as herself. She 
 bent upon me a look of exceeding spitefulness; 
 and then tossing her head — which made the 
 plumes wave above an immense yellow turban — 
 she fanned herself vehemently. 
 
 On descending the steps, we found the Marquis 
 of Dalrymple in readiness to hand Mrs. Norman 
 and myself into the carriage, as the last delicato 
 tribute of courtesy which he had the opportunity 
 of paying on that occasion. On the following day 
 the Duchess sent me a very handsome sum of 
 money for myself and those who had performed 
 with me, — together with a costly and exquisitely 
 chased bracelet in a box, addressed " To Miss Traf- 
 ford, vfith the Duchess of Ardleigh's regards." 
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 THE UNACKNOWLEDGED WIFE. 
 
 A MONTH passed after the private theatricals at 
 Ardleigh House ; and it was now the end of 
 November, in the year of 1840 of which I am 
 writing. Three months had elapsed since the 
 marriage of Juliet — three months since the death 
 of my aunt. I received a letter from my cousin 
 Harry Wakefield, informing me that the business 
 which had taken him to New York was progressing 
 favourably though slowly— and that while on the 
 one hand he had the satisfaction of knowing that 
 he should be enabled to manage the affair well on 
 Mr. Macdonald's behalf, yet that he was grieved 
 oo the other hand to think that several more 
 months might elapse before he might hope to re- 
 
 turn to his native land. He assured me that his 
 afHiction for the loss of his mother had mellowed 
 down into a pious resignation ; and in respect to 
 myself, his letter abounded in the tenderest ec- 
 pressions. He begged me to answer him without 
 delay ; and this I did — but I was deficient in the 
 moral courage that was required to commence 
 breaking to him the secret in respect to the pro- 
 fession wherein I was embarked. 
 
 One night I had retired to bed at the usual hour 
 after having appeared at the theatre ; and sleep 
 soon fell upon my eyes. Again did it seem to me 
 as if I were dreaming in that same sense which 
 about a month back had led me to suppose that 
 strange shapes appeared in the room : but this time 
 my vision was shorter— far less horrible in its com- 
 mencement — and without the feelings of that 
 hideous rightmare which on the former occasion 
 had oppressed me. As I slowly opened my eyes, I 
 distinctly beheld a figure in a white garment in 
 the middle of the room:— this time it did not fly 
 the moment I began to move ; and by the light of 
 the taper which I was accustomed to leave burn- 
 ing upon the toilet-table, I recognised Juliet. 
 
 She was in her night-dress ; and the rich masses 
 of her hair were flowing over her shoulders. Her 
 countenance had a distressed, indeed an anguished 
 look; and the instant she saw that I was awake, 
 she threw herself into my arms. 
 
 " Good heavens, Juliet !" I exclaimed, smitten 
 with astonishment and grief at tiiis occurrence : 
 " what is the matter with you ? is there anything 
 wrons; ?" 
 
 " Hush, dearest Ellen !" she said : " or my 
 parents will hear us conversing together — and 
 they will bo alarmed; for it is nearly three in the 
 morning!" 
 
 " But what is the matter, dear Julio ?" I in- 
 quired in the most painful suspense. " Are you 
 ill ? have you anything to distress you ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know what is afilieting me," sho 
 replied. " Oh ! I have done my best to conceal 
 it! — but there is something which tortures mo — 
 a vague misgiving — an undefined suspicion — a 
 presentiment of evil, without the slightest power 
 to surmise what it can be ! At length I could 
 endure it no longer : my rest was broken with 
 horrible dreams— and I could not resist the im- 
 pulse of seeking your chamber, my dear Ellen !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Juliet took my morning 
 wrapper ; and enveloping herself in it, she sat 
 down by the side of the bed. 
 
 " Tell me, Julie," I said, much troubled on her 
 account, and with all kinds of misgivings revived 
 in my mind in respect to that inauspicious mar< 
 riage of her's, as I could not help considering it 
 to be ; " tell me — this is not the first time that you 
 have sought my chamber in the middle of tho 
 night ?" 
 
 " Ah !" she exclaimed, ia visible surprise, "you 
 know then " 
 
 " I know only that the incident of to-night ac- 
 counts for something which occurred upwards of a 
 month back, when methought that I beheld some 
 one in my room : but being more than half asleep 
 at the time, I attributed it, on awaking, to a 
 dream." 
 
 " Yes— it was I, Ellen !" rejoined Juliet. " The 
 same thoughts which have been excruciating ma 
 to-night, tortured mo then; and yielding to aa
 
 ELLEN PEECTJ OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACXEESS. 
 
 113 
 
 ELLEN PERCY. 
 
 impulse which was at first irresistible, I came to 
 make you my confidante— to seek solace in your 
 aims. But ashamed of myself, I fled precipitately 
 from your chamber — and had hoped that my 
 flight was noiseless likewise." 
 
 " Now tell me, dearest Julie," I said, in the 
 most soothing manner, " what is it that afllicts 
 you P what is it that thus troubles your night's 
 repose ?" 
 
 " Perhaps you will think me very foolish, my 
 dear Ellen," answered Juliet, — " and indeed now I 
 am with you, those vague horrid thoughts go out 
 of my mind. It is thus that in the daytime I am 
 often completely happy — and that even when the 
 No. 15. — Ellen Peecy. 
 
 desponding mood comes over me, I am enabled to 
 conceal it. I am half inclined to speed back to 
 my chamber, begging that you will look upon this 
 incident as if it had not occurred " 
 
 "No, my dear friend," I answered, "that is im- 
 possible ! Now that you are here, you must indeed 
 make me your confidante. Ob, Julie ! you know 
 not how it distresses me to see that you arc un- 
 happy !" 
 
 The tears were trickling down my cheeks ; and 
 again did Juliet throw herself into my arras, with 
 her own flung around my neck. She wept and 
 sobbed bitterly for a few minutes ; and at length 
 resuming her seat, she wiped away her tears, —
 
 114 
 
 EILEN PERCY; OB, THE MEM0IK3 OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 murmuring amidst the last convulsiveness of a sob, 
 " Now my heart is relieved !" 
 
 "But tell me, Juliet," I said, "what is it that 
 thus distresses you ?" 
 
 "In the first place, dear Ellen," she replied, 
 bending down her head, " I feel that 1 am in a 
 
 way to become a mother and Oh ! though ;v 
 
 wedded wife, yet under the stern pressure of cir- 
 cumstances shall I be compelled to leave my home 
 —to go and bury myself in some seclusion — and 
 there give birth to my babe, as if I were, a fallen, 
 guilty creature, and that infant were the offspring 
 of shause !" 
 
 "Poor Julie!" I said: but unwilling to wound 
 her feelings more deeply than they were already 
 distressed by reminding her that such a result was 
 to have been anticipated from so inauspicious and 
 secret a marriage, I hastened to assume a more 
 consolatory tone, — adding, " But in eight or nine 
 months more you will be proclaimed a wife before 
 the world——" 
 
 " Yes— but in six months my babe will be 
 born !" she mournfully interrupted me. " Oh ! 
 all the anticipated pride of a mother which I first 
 experienced on feeling that I should become one, 
 is absorbed in the dread of being looked upon as a 
 dishonoured and degraded woman before that 
 secret of my marriage can be proclaimed ! And 
 this is not all that distresses me— this is not all 
 that tortures me ! I have no certificate of my 
 
 marriage " 
 
 " None ?" I exclaimed, with a terrible strength- 
 ening of those misgivings which at the time of 
 that marriage I had entertained, but which my 
 visit to Embledon had subsequently set at rest. 
 "But your husband — Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 
 cliflPe " 
 
 " He omitted to obtain a certificate from Mr. 
 Croft," responded Juliet with a profound sigh. 
 
 " Everything, you recollect, was so hurried " 
 
 " But let not this distress you," I said. " You 
 
 Lave but to write to Mr. Croft at Embledon " 
 
 " Frederick has promised to do so on several 
 occasions," rejoined Juliet : " but he continues to 
 neglect it. This evening, while you were at the 
 theatre, he called: I again spoke to him on the 
 subject: he answered me petulantly— it was the 
 first time that he had ever spoken angrily— and I 
 was cruelly distressed ! It was that doubtless which 
 gave me those hideous dreams — it haunted my 
 
 mind " 
 
 "But you yourself might have written to Mr. 
 Croft at Embledon ?" I suggested. 
 
 " I asked Frederick this evening," continued 
 Juliet, " to write at once himself, or to suffer me 
 to write — for the desk was open upon the table. 
 But while he enjoined me on no account to take 
 
 such a step and Ah! I cannot conceal from 
 
 myself that the reason he gave was a poor one 
 
 he evasively promised to be sure and write 
 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " And what reason did he give," I asked, " that 
 1/ou should not write ?" 
 
 " He said it was unbecoming and improper, and 
 that Mr. Croft would think it exceedingly strange 
 that such an application should come from me. 
 Ob, Ellen !" continued Juliet, with passionate vehe- 
 menc(*,'though in a low voice; " if anything should 
 happen to Mr. Croft— if he should die suddenly, 
 without this certificate being procured — good 
 
 heavens, what a horror ! for who would believe that 
 such a marriage had ever taken place ? And I 
 should be disgraced — and my poor babe would bo 
 born in shame Oh, Ellen! you can now under- 
 stand wherefore at times my thoughts overpower 
 me and my soul is tortured with the cruellest ap- 
 prehensions ! I cannot fancy that Frederick has 
 
 in any way deceived me No ! no !" and she 
 
 shuddered as if with an ice- chill as she spoke. 
 
 "You must to-morrow insist, Julie," I said — 
 " but insist with delicacy and tenderness, and not 
 peremptorily nor passionately — that Lord Frederick 
 writes at once to Mr. Croft for the certificate 
 which is indeed so essential to your welfare. I 
 wonder that your parents did not take the pre- 
 caiXtiou to see that the certificate was duly 
 given P" 
 
 " They fancied that either Lord Frederick or 
 myself received it," responded Juhet. " I have 
 judged this much by what they have since said ; 
 and I have not dared tell them that no certificate 
 was ever given at all. But I repeat, Frederick 
 could not possibly have deceived me in any way- 
 there were no means for such deception, even if he 
 were capable of it. Tell me, dearest EUou — what 
 is your opinion P— tell me that there were really 
 
 no means of perfidy being committed " 
 
 " I do not see how deception could have been 
 practised," I answered. "That you were married 
 by a special license and by a real clergyman are 
 
 facts which cannot be doubted " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Ellen ! on these points there can be 
 no doubt !" cried Juliet, catching at the assurance. 
 "And, now, my sweet friend, do you not think 
 
 that I am very foolish But no ! you do not ! — 
 
 your own countenance is grave ! What is passing 
 in your mind, dear Ellen P" 
 
 " Can you wonder, Julie," I asked, " that I 
 should be distressed at thus finding that you are 
 not so happy as I could have wished you to be ? 
 Take my advice, dear Julie, and press Lord Frede- 
 rick to write to Mr. Croft to-morrow ; and if lie 
 will not, you yourself must write ! It is not Mr. 
 
 Croft only who might die but remember, JuUc, 
 
 we are all mortal do not, do not think that I 
 
 am speaking gloomily but this is the occasion 
 
 for serious discourse and therefore I would 
 
 observe that if anything should happen to Lord 
 
 Frederick himself " 
 
 " Oh ! I too have thought of that !" said Juliet, 
 with a visible shudder ; " and, Oh ! what a dreadful 
 calamity if I were left a widow without the means 
 of proving that I had been a wife— a mother, with- 
 out the power to show that my ofiTspring is honour- 
 ably born ! Yes, yes, Ellen — for a thousand rea- 
 sons I 'must have that certificate ! And now I 
 comprehend that the absence thereof is the true 
 source of all the fears which agitate me. I am 
 rendered nervous — and then every kind of appre- 
 hension seizes upon me, or else steals insidiously 
 into my soul. Oh! Ellen — though but a ballet- 
 dancer whom so many doubtless contoiimed, yet 
 have I my own pride, — the pride of good principles 
 — the pride of conscious rectitude — the pride of one 
 who had passed triumphantly through the ordeal 
 of temptation !— and it is dreadful not to be able 
 to look the world boldly in the face ! To know 
 oneself virtuous, and yet incur the chance of being 
 deemed fallen and guilty — to be a lawfully wedded 
 wife, and yet be at any moment exposed to the
 
 ELIEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTSESB. 
 
 115 
 
 most terrible suspicion- it is euough to kill 
 
 me !" 
 
 Juliet had spoken passionately ; and I now said 
 all that I could to console her. After awhile she 
 became comforted; and embracing me affection- 
 ately, she stole back to her own apartment. 
 
 I slept but little for the remainder of that night : 
 my mind was agitated with vague doubts and in- 
 definite misgivings, which however for compas- 
 sion's sake I had studiously veiled as much as pos- 
 sible from Juliet. Paint as a tingling in the ears, 
 or as the sound of far distant bells, was there a 
 suspicion in my brain that Juliet was in some way 
 or another the victim of treachery — or at least 
 that everything was not precisely as it had been 
 represented. Though Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's 
 conduct was secret, yet this was no reason that it 
 should not have been straightforward ; and I felt 
 that it had not been. Wherefore his hesitation to 
 procure ithe certificate ? Was he already getting 
 tired of Juliet, and preparing the way for a dis- 
 avowal of the marriage ? — was the clergyman in 
 league with him for this purpose ? If such were the 
 case, I felt that the Normans as Juliet's parents, 
 and myself as her bosom-friend, would be looked 
 upon as partial and one-sided witnesses if the 
 matter were eventually brought before a court of 
 justice. But it is useless to chronicle here all the 
 varied, and to some extent conflicting reflections 
 which passed through my mind as the result of 
 that scene with Juliet. Suflice it to say that I 
 was now determined to see her extricated from the 
 false and perilous position in which she was placed 
 by the want of the certificate ; and I even made 
 up my mind to take another journey to Embledon, 
 if it were necessary, to see Mr. Croft upon the 
 subject. 
 
 When we met at the breakfast-table in the 
 morning, Juliet's appearance was precisely the 
 same as usual, with the exception perhaps that she 
 was a little paler. She glanced significantly at me, 
 as much as to thank me for the advice and conso- 
 lation I had offered her during the night, and also 
 to enjoin me to keep the incident secret from her 
 parents. Mr. and Mrs. Norman had to attend the 
 theatre at about noon. The presence of Lord 
 Frederick Eavensclifie might soon be expected; 
 and as I had no rehearsal to attend that day, I 
 went out shopping, in order that I might afford 
 Juliet an opportunity of being alone with the 
 young nobleman. 
 
 I proceeded on foot — for I wished to take some 
 exercise ; and I could not help thinking as I went 
 along the streets, that love is the source of almost 
 as much misery as it is the spring of happiness in 
 this world. It teaches its votaries the solemn 
 lesson that there can be no felicity without its 
 drawback, and that there is not within human ex- 
 perience a perfect amount of happiness. In my 
 own case the example was already illustrated. De- 
 votedly was I attached to my cousin Harry ; and 
 yet, through the very fear of having my heart's 
 love blighted by the loss of his own, was I still 
 keeping from him the secret of that profession 
 wherein I had embarked. The world had recog- 
 nised me as a great actress ; and yet I trembled to 
 avow the secret of my fame to him whom I felt it 
 should most rejoice ! 
 
 While thus meditating, I had reached Bedford 
 Square ; and as I was turning into it, I beheld the 
 
 dashing phaeton of Mr. Parks suddenly draw up. 
 He sprang out, exclaiming, " Why, my dear Ellen, 
 you are almost a stranger now ! You never " 
 
 But he stopped short on finding that I did 
 not take the hand which was proffered me. My 
 demeanour was coldly indignant ; and I perceived 
 a guilty look rapidly expanding upon the ignoble 
 countenance of the lawyer. Quickly however re- 
 gaining his self-possession— or I might rather say 
 his effrontery— he said somewhat sulkily, " Well, 
 Miss Percy, what is the meaning of this ?" 
 
 "If I proclaim all the accusations I have to 
 make against you," was my answer, " you would 
 find it a difficult task to vindicate yourself." 
 
 " Grood God !" he exclaimed, now looking ex- 
 cessively frightened— and indeed becoming pale aa 
 death, — " what on earth do you mean ? How 
 could I possibly have offended you? You must 
 have been listening to some falsehoods " 
 
 " Mr. Parks, your looks are not those of a man 
 who thinks himself maligned— but rather those of 
 one who pleads guilty beforehand to the charges 
 that can be brought against him. The captive 
 will look forth through the narrow loop-holes of 
 his cell; and your conscience, Mr. Parks, however 
 strong be your efforts to imprison it in the pro- 
 fundities of your breast, looks forth from your 
 ey«s." 
 
 "I can't understand you," he said, glancing 
 towards his liveried coachman to see whether the 
 domestic overheard what was passing. " Come a 
 little further off, and explain what you mean." 
 
 As the reader is aware, I had been partially 
 awaiting the first opportunity, without actually 
 seeking it, to tell Mr. Parks that the foul treachery 
 of himself and his wife was known to me. I there- 
 fore did not refuse to avail myself of the present 
 occasion : but at the same time I did not choose 
 to make a scene before the servant or in a public 
 place. I therefore walked a little aside with Mr. 
 Parks ; and then stopping short, I suddenly looked 
 him full in the countenance, — saying firmly and 
 abruptly, " You handed me over to the villain St. 
 Clair!" 
 
 So far from being overwhelmed by this accusa- 
 tion. Parks appeared as if he all in a moment 
 experienced some considerable sensation of relief; 
 so that it immediately struck me he had expected 
 to hear a different or a graver charge than the one 
 I had just brought against him. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" he demanded coarsely, 
 and almost brutally. 
 
 " I mean that on the night when a panic was 
 created at the theatre, at the exhibition of wild 
 beasts, you consigned me, senseless and inanimate, 
 to the power of a villain. But as he himself 
 doubtless informed you, I escaped from his fiendish 
 designs " 
 
 " Now listen to me, Ellen," said Mr. Parks, as- 
 suming a dogged air of mingled defiauce aud 
 authority. " I am not going to have any fending 
 or proving with you : you may think what you like 
 — and if your opinion is evil, I shall not take tlio 
 trouble to vindicate myself. You may either come 
 to the house, or you may keep away, as you 
 think fit. But there is one thing I would have 
 you know — which is that you had better not speak 
 ill of me or Mrs. Parks behind our backs ; and you 
 had better beware how you make us your enemies. 
 Now don't fire up ! — you ain't on the stage at thia ,
 
 116 
 
 ELLEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACIEESS. 
 
 moment — and you look quite handsome enough 
 without sending; the colour to mount to those cheeks 
 of yours. I have a few more words to say. Tou 
 must be cautious how you deal with Mrs. Parks 
 and me. We know a secret connected with your 
 
 affairs nothing that you yourself know— no- 
 
 thing even that you suspect— and one which per- 
 haps it were better that you should tiever know. 
 It ia a secret, Ellen, that if whispered in your ear, 
 would make your proud head bend — would wring 
 the bitterest tears from your eyes, and harrow your 
 heart. This is no empty threat. As there is a 
 living God above us, it is the truth ! Be wise 
 therefore " 
 
 " Good heavens !" I exclaimed, in mingled hor- 
 ror and consternation ; " what do you mean, Mr. 
 Parks ? I beseech you to tell me ! There is no- 
 thing in the world that I have ever done the ex- 
 posure of which could produce all these frightful 
 effects !" 
 
 " I tell you it is nothing that you have done," 
 replied the lawyer : " but still it is something that 
 regards you most closely. It is something that 
 you do not know nor even suspect : but I tell you, 
 Ellen, that if it were proclaimed you would crouch 
 down in the veriest shame " 
 
 " Mr. Parks," I interrupted him, in a paroxysm 
 of terrific anguish, " for God's sake tell me what 
 you mean ! This suspense is dreadful ! Leave me 
 not in it ! I will forgive yourself and your wife 
 for whatsoever you may have done to me " 
 
 " And what have we done ?" he asked ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 " I have already told you," was my response : 
 "you would have ruined me — you would have 
 blasted my character — you surrendered me 
 up " 
 
 "Enough of all this!" he ejaculated: and even 
 in the midst of the terrific agitation I experienced, 
 I again noticed that he looked as if he had suddenly 
 sustained a sensation of relief. " It is sufScieut 
 for you to know that you are thus far in my power ; ' 
 and therefore take heed how you at any time utter i 
 disrespectful things against Mrs. Parks and my- I 
 self." 
 
 With these words the lawyer abruptly quitted 
 me ; and leaping into his phaeton, he was instan- 
 taneously driven away. I leant against the railings 
 of a house for support: I felt as if I were about 
 to faint, until two ladies came up and kindly asked , 
 if I felt ill ? Then I regained my self-possession ; I 
 and thanking them, I hurried along. What could | 
 Mr. Parks have meant ? He had known me from I 
 my infancy — he was acquainted with all the cir- I 
 cumstances which regarded my earliest years. ; 
 Could it be possible that there was some stigma 
 resting upon my birth ? It was the first time that , 
 ever such a suspicion had been excited within me. 
 And yet if it were so, how could the knowledge ! 
 thereof produce such terrible effects as those with ' 
 which he had menaced me ? I could not be held 
 responsible for a mother's frailty. But while I ] 
 was thus reflecting, back to my memory came that ] 
 dim and shadowy recollection which had seemed to [ 
 float in my brain like a scarcely perceptible vapour j 
 in a far-off horizon, — a recollection that at times ! 
 had haunted me like the vague and ill-defined im- 
 pression of a troubled dream. A man fondling me 
 upon his knee, then pressing me to his heart and 
 sobbing bitterly— then a woman taking me from 
 
 his arms, straining me to her own bosom, and 
 weepiQg convulsively — and all this associated with 
 
 some dark gloomy place Good heavens ! was 
 
 there any reality in the scene which, if it had ever 
 occurred at all, must have belonged to my earliest 
 years ? 
 
 Long was it ere I could subdue the agitation 
 into which that interview with Mr. Parks had 
 thrown me : but when I began to regain a certain 
 degree of composure, I endeavoured to persuade 
 myself that it was a mere idle threat invented by 
 the unprincipled attorney for the purpose of over- 
 awing me. Yet I could not succeed in beating 
 into my brain the conviction that it was so : it 
 was a surmise wherein I sought to obtain a com- 
 plete refuge from thoughts vaguely horrible, but 
 where I only succeeded in obtaining such refuge 
 partially. Instead of stopping, I wandered about, 
 harassed by my reflections, — until at length I 
 ventured to return to Hunter Street. 
 
 I had been absent thence for nearly three 
 hours; and on my return found Juliet radiant 
 with happiness. Indeed she was so completely 
 absorbed in the sources of her own joy, that she 
 failed to notice there was anything extraordinary 
 or peculiar with me ; and I was by no means sorry 
 to escape questioning and all the affectionate im- 
 portunities of friendship. 
 
 "Frederick has done everything that I asked of 
 him !" said Juliet, hastening to meet me as I 
 entered the room where she was previously alone. 
 "He hesitated not a moment! Indeed it was 
 almost of his own accord that he began writing 
 the letter to Mr. Croft, requesting him to send the 
 certificate. And then too, with the most genuine 
 frankness, he showed me what he had written 
 before he sealed the letter ; and he left the letter 
 himself for me to convey to the post. Oh, Ellen ! 
 how sorry, — how sorry I am that I ever for a mo- 
 ment mistrusted him !" 
 
 Juliet showed me the letter, which was duly 
 addressed to "the Rev. Mr. Croft, Embledon, 
 Warwickshire;" and as I had on my bonnet and 
 shawl, I offered to go and take it to the post. 
 Juliet thankfully assented ; and on my way to 
 execute the commission, I said to myself, " Un- 
 feignedly rejoiced am I that her husband should 
 have done this ! After all, he has been wronged 
 by the suspicions of both of us: but heaven be 
 thanked that those suspicions are not now jus- 
 tified !" 
 
 The reader may thus perceive that a complete 
 revulsion of sentiment had taken place in my 
 mind in respect to Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ; 
 and I was truly delighted to reflect that Juliet, 
 though still an unacknowledged wife before the 
 world, was nevertheless the acknowledged wife of 
 him who some eight or nine months thence might 
 acknowlodge her openly. In my own moods of 
 sadness it has ever been a relief to me to observe 
 the happiness of others ; and thus, from this inci- 
 dent which had occurred so favourably to Juliet's 
 views, I derived consolation for my own spirit 
 which had been so wounded during the interview 
 with Mr. Parks. 
 
 On returning to Hunter Street after having 
 posted the letter addressed to the Eev. Mr. Croft, 
 I was informed that a gentleman had called to see 
 me and that he was waiting in the dining-room. 
 Thither I repaired j and I found that mj visitor
 
 ELLEJf PEECX; OE, THE MEilOIES OP AS ACXEESS. 
 
 11/ 
 
 was none other than Mi, Peaseblossom. He was 
 dressed in bis usual style, — the points of his shirt 
 collar projecting out very far : but metbought 
 that there was a certain knowingness in his coun- 
 tenance which it did not generally wear, and which 
 therefore seemed to herald him as the bearer of a 
 message or the agent of an object of some im- 
 portance. 
 
 " Tour most obedient servant, Miss Trafford," 
 he said, rbing from bis seat and making me a pro- 
 found bow. " You will perhaps be as much sur- 
 prised to receive a visit from me as it — as if — the 
 crocodile in the Zoological Gardens had introduced 
 himself to your presence. But when you consider 
 that I am honoured with the friendship of a cer- 
 tain family whose same it is unnecessary to men- 
 tion " 
 
 " Proceed, Mr. Peaseblossom," I said. " I pre- 
 sume that the Duchess " 
 
 "Not a bit oi it," ejaculated the visitor: 
 " heaven forbid ! If she were to know anything 
 about it she would treat me worse than — than — a 
 nigger is treated by a Virginian planter. In fact. 
 Miss Trafford, I feel that I am as unfit for the 
 mission which I have undertaken — as — as — a 
 baboon to escort the Queen to the dinner-table." 
 
 " Pray explain yourself, sir," I said, wondering 
 to what all this was to lead. 
 
 " I am just going to make the endeavour to do 
 80, Miss Trafford," rejoined Mr. Peaseblossom. " I 
 
 need not tell you that " 
 
 But here he stopped short— fidgeted with his 
 broad-brimmed hat, which he held between his 
 k^ees — and sat so nervously on his chair that I 
 fancied every moment he was about to fall off. 
 
 "Mr. Peaseblossom," I said, "may I request 
 that you will explain yourself ?" 
 
 "The truth is. Miss Trafford," he stammered 
 out, " the weight of the mission entrusted to me 
 is better fitted for the back of an elephant — than 
 — than — for that of an ass. However, since you 
 are pleased to listen, I need not remind you that 
 you are very, very beautiful — because that would 
 be the same as telling a rose it is sweet — or a lily 
 that it is fair — or — or " — he pressed his brow as 
 if in search of another metaphor — and abruptly 
 added, " or the devil that he is black." 
 
 " Keally, Mr. Peaseblossom " 
 
 "I know I'm tedious, Miss Trafford: but as 
 Dogberry says, I would bestow all my tediousness 
 upon you. WeU, Miss Trafford," continued Mr. 
 
 Peaseblossom, " you are beautiful " 
 
 " Sir, I must beg that you will desist from these 
 absurd compliments :" and I made a movement as 
 if to rise from my seat. 
 
 " Stop, Miss Trafford !" he exclaimed ; " it is 
 not I that am speaking. True, it is my tongue 
 that gives utterance to the words— but it is only on 
 behalf of another. "We will not mention names : 
 but I daresay you can understand — for I come as 
 secret, you know, as — as— a thief down an area to 
 steal a leg of mutton. He who has sent me is of 
 
 noble birth — you can understand that much 
 
 and what is more, he appreciates beauty. It's a 
 splendid thing for you. Miss Trafford— a thousand 
 a-year, to be settled on you beyond recall— and an 
 extra thousand as long as the connexion lasts. 
 There ! that's the overture — as nice as— as — the 
 overture to an opera." 
 
 Ambiguous though Mr. Peaseblossom's verbiage 
 
 was, yet I could not possibly fail to comprehend 
 the insolent, the flagrantly insulting proposal which 
 was thus made me. I had never once seen the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple since the evening of the 
 private theatricals at Ardleigh House ; and I cer- 
 tainly never expected to hear from him in such a 
 form as this. 
 
 " Mr. Peaseblossom," I said, my cheeks colour- 
 ing with indignation as I rose up from my seat, 
 " in the first place a man of your years ought to 
 be ashamed to suffer himself to become an emissary 
 from a dishonourable libertine ; and in the second 
 place I must inform you that I am as painfully 
 deceived in the character of that individual as I 
 am outraged and indignant at the proposal it- 
 self." 
 
 " But, you know. Miss Trafford, that he could 
 not possibly marry you!" said Mr. Peaseblossom. 
 
 "Enough, sir!" I ejaculated: "you have al- 
 ready said too much. Begone ! — and consider 
 yourself fortunate that I do not summon the foot • 
 man to eject you from the house !" 
 
 " Eeally, Miss Trafford," said Mr. Peaseblossom, 
 looking quite dismayed, astonished, and frightened ; 
 " this conduct on your part— bo unexpected — so 
 violent " 
 
 " Violent f " I ejaculated. " No, sir ! I am 
 not violent : but I am incensed ! Go back to him 
 who sent you, and say that she whom you have 
 seen scorns his overtures j and though an actress, 
 she prides herself on possessing principles as good, 
 thoughts as pure, and resolutions as strong as the 
 most immaculate of those who from the strong- 
 holds of their own chastity or prudery look down 
 with contempt upon the heroine of the stage ! Go 
 and say, sir, that whatsoever degree of suspicion 
 or scandal, mistrust or doubt, may attach them- 
 selves to females of the theatrical profession, I at 
 least am one who by my own life will give the lie 
 to public opinion, and by my conduct put the 
 libertine to shame !" 
 
 Had I been in a mood to enjoy it, there was 
 something indescribably ludicrous in Mr. Pease- 
 blossom's aspect as he listened to this speech. He 
 literally excruciated himself with his endeavours 
 to put off his confusion and to keep his form 
 steady — but all in vain: for he fidgeted about — 
 he crushed his hat between his hands— he pulled 
 up the points of his collar until they nearly met 
 under his nose — and ho shuffled about with his 
 feet like a schoolboy that was receiving a severe 
 reprimand from his master. Mr. Peaseblossom 
 strove to obtain another hearing : but I silenced 
 him in a peremptory manner ; and he issued from 
 the house. 
 
 I must confess that I was infinitely annoyed by 
 this incident, — I mean in a sense apart from the 
 actual indignity of the overture itself. I had 
 formed a very high opinion of the Marquis of 
 Dalrymple : it was in my disposition to have the 
 wish to think well of human nature ; and it pained 
 me to be thus grievously disappointed. I was 
 moreover grieved to fancy that the young noble- 
 man should entertain so indifferent an opinion of 
 me as to expect that I could be dazzled by the 
 pecuniary temptation of his offers— especially after 
 I had assured him that my affections were engaged 
 to another. And I was astonished likewise at the 
 thought that after I had refused the proposal to 
 become his wife which in a moment of intatuation
 
 118 
 
 ELIEN PEKCT ; OE, THE 2a:UM0IES OF AN ACijtESS. 
 
 Le had made me, he should for an instant conceive 
 it probable that I would become his mistress. I 
 did not however mention the motive of Mr. Pease- 
 blossom's visit to Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet: 
 I had suiEciently vindicated my own cause — and 
 moreover I had a dislike to render myself the 
 heroine of an adventure. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 VAEI0TJ3 IKCIDKNT8. 
 
 Mt meeting with Mr. Parks had prevented me 
 from pursuing the shopping expedition on which 
 I had started ; and as I required to make several 
 purchases, I went forth with that aim on the fol- 
 lowing day. I vas again on foot and by myself ; 
 and as my objeot v. as to proceed to Oxford Street 
 and Regent Street, I took nearly the same route 
 as that which on the previous day had led me to 
 encounter the solicitor. Just as I was entering 
 Bedford Square, it was singular enough that I be- 
 held Mr. Parks's equipage at a little distance ; and 
 the lawyer himself was standing on the pavement 
 talking to some gentleman. They almost imme- 
 diately separated, — Mr. Parks leaping into his 
 vehicle, which drove rapidly away. He evidently 
 ^d not observed me ; and I continued my path. 
 
 I beheld a dark object lying on the very spot 
 where the lawyer and Ae gentleman had been 
 conversing together ; and it proved to be a pocket- 
 book fastened with a clasp. I picked it up : there 
 was no name upon it ; and I knew not therefore 
 to which of the two individuals it belonged. Feel- 
 ing how necessary it was that it should be imme- 
 diately restored to its owner, I opened it to ascer- 
 tain who this owner might be. It contained 
 several papers and a bundle of bank-notes : but 
 there was no card with any name upon it, nor 
 was there any letter in an envelope indicating an 
 address. I therefore opened one of the papers; 
 and I started on beholding the name of Charles 
 Croft ! 
 
 It was a brief note ; and a glance at the top 
 showed me that it was written from Embledon. 
 Impelled by an irresistible curiosity, I ran my eyes 
 over the billet's contents ; &ni found, as nearly as 
 I can no (7 recollect, that they ran as follow :— 
 
 "Embledon, November 28, 184(0. 
 " My dear Parks, 
 
 " I write to acknowledge the receipt of the 
 second half of the £10 note. You see that I am 
 following your advice by living in the strictest se- 
 clusion here. How well she is getting on ! 
 "Yours very truly, 
 
 "Chables Cbobx." 
 
 The perusal of this note revived in a moment 
 all the suspicions which I had ever entertained to 
 the efect that I had seen Mr. Croft previous to 
 the solemnization of the private nuptials of Lord 
 Frederick EavensclifFe and Juliet. He was evi- 
 dently connected with Mr. Parks; and this con- 
 nexion associated itself with the visit paid to the 
 late Mrs. Parks and her son in London by that 
 man whom I had seen at my grandfather's house 
 at Leeds. My idea of Mr. Croft's character was 
 
 therefore now again a bad one ; and again too did 
 I tremble tor Juliet. But what meant that allu« 
 sion to some one who was getting on so well ? Did 
 it point to me 7 I felt a strong suspicion that it 
 did so ; and as I went on reflecting, I wondered — 
 painfully wondered — whether the menaces which 
 Parks had levelled at me on the preceding day 
 could have any connection with the affairs of that 
 same Charles Croft ? 
 
 I was a prey to all kinds of bewildering and 
 even torturing surmises and conjectures, as I pur- 
 sued my way towards Oxford Street. There— on 
 reaching the first shop at which I had purchases to 
 make, and where I was well known — I procured a 
 sheet of paper, enveloped the pocket-book in it, 
 and addressed the packet in a feigned hand to Mr. 
 Parks. I then requested the shopman to let his 
 boy deliver it at the attorney's house — but strictly 
 charging that the messenger was not to say from 
 whom the parcel came. From that shop I con- 
 tinued my way into Regent Street ; and just as I 
 was about to enter that same mercery establish- 
 ment where I had seen Lady Mangold self-appro- 
 priate the lace, I beheld the Marquis of Dalrymple 
 passing by on horseback. The first glimpse which 
 I had of his countenance, showed me that it sud- 
 denly beamed with joy as he recognised me ; and 
 he lifted his hat with the most graceful politeness. 
 I at once turned away without condescending to 
 take any farther notice of him — though with a 
 manner which was intended pointedly to convince 
 him how proudly indignant I was at his receat 
 conduct. While in the shop, it occurred to me 
 that the young Marquis might probably seek a 
 personal interview, either to implore my pardon or 
 to repeat his offensive overtures ; and as I had ob- 
 served that he was followed by his groom, there 
 could be no difficulty for him to leave his horse for 
 the purpose. The establishment had two entrances 
 —one in Regent Street (or rather the Quadrant, 
 as I should all along have said), and the other in 
 Piccadilly. Therefore, when my purchases were 
 completed, I passed out by the Hccadilly entrance. 
 Seeking a cab, I returned to Hunter Street. 
 
 In the evening I made my appearance at the 
 theatre ; and I beheld the Marquis of Dalrymple 
 seated alone in a private box. When repairing to 
 my dressing-room at the close of one of the Acts, 
 I found a note lying upon the toUet-table. It had 
 a plain seal : but I recognised the handwriting of 
 the young Marquis ; for I had become acquainted 
 with it at the lime I was superintending the ar- 
 rangements for the private theatricals at Ardleigh 
 ■j House. No one besides myself was in the dressing- 
 room at the time when I thus found the note,^ 
 the lady's-maid being engaged with Mrs. Norman 
 in her own room at the theatre. I secured the 
 note, without opening it, about my person ; and 
 on the following day, immediately after breakfast, 
 I enclosed it in an envelope addressed to the Mar- 
 quis. I then lost no time in consigning the letter 
 with my own hands to the nearest post-office. 
 
 It was on the ensuing day that the morning's 
 delivery of letters brought me a note from the 
 Duchess of Ardleigh, requesting me to call upon 
 her precisely at the hour of noon — or if that ar- 
 rangement did not suit me, to let her Grace know 
 when she could call upon me. The billet was 
 politely though formally worded ; and it at once 
 struck me that the Duchess had made some disco
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTHE83. 
 
 119 
 
 very in reference to her son's proceedings. As I 
 was unaware to what extent her knowledge might 
 reach — and being afraid that if it were merely 
 Blight and partial, it might in some way compro- 
 mise my own character and good name — I resolved 
 to keep the appointment, and, if necessary, to give 
 the fullest explanation. 
 
 Accordingly, punctual to the hour named in 
 her Grace's note, I alighted from the Normans' 
 carriage at the entrance to Ardleigh House, I 
 was evidently expected on the part of the servants 
 lounging in the hall ; for one of the footmen im- 
 mediately requested me to follow him up- stairs to 
 the drawing-room. There I found the Duchess, 
 alone. She was seated with the air of one await- 
 ing an arrival that was to lead to business of deli- 
 cacy and importance ; and her manner was 
 pointedly cold and distant as she desired me to be 
 seated. 
 
 "Perhaps, Miss Traffiard," she began, "you are 
 not altogether ignorant of the motive for which I 
 requested this interview ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt, my lady, that I have rightly 
 conjectured your motive," was my answpr ; " and 
 your Grace perceives with what readiness I have 
 obeyed your summons." 
 
 "A very unplersant discovery has been made 
 by me. Miss Trafford," continued the Duchess: 
 " but as yet I have not spoken a word on the 
 subject to either my son or to the Duke. I hope 
 that the result of our present interview will render 
 it unnecessary to go to extremes in that sense." 
 
 "Your Grace may rest assured," I rejoined, 
 "that there has been nothing in mj conduct 
 which I could desire to be kept secret from the 
 Duke of Ardleigh : while in respect to the Marquis 
 
 of Dairy mple " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Trafford I" exclaimed the Duchess, 
 "there have been secrets between my son and 
 yourself !" 
 
 " Something certainly took place," I responded, 
 "which I regarded in a confidential light : but it 
 was nothing that for my own sake I could have 
 wished to be concealed from your Grace." 
 
 " My son has addressed you in the language of 
 love. Miss Trafford ; and by some means he has 
 offended you. You returned a note of his un- 
 opened. That note fell into my hands : I recog- 
 nised your writing on the envelope — I was asto- 
 nished — you can easily understand that I was 
 seized with suspicions — I opened the letter— and 
 read it. In doing this I only exercised a mother's 
 Rightful authority ; and it is also as a mother that 
 I sought this interview, in the hope of appealing 
 successfully to your good sense — your good feeling 
 —your honour — your prudence— ^ What terms 
 can I use ?" 
 
 " I can at once set your Grace's fears at rest," 
 I answered, " by the assurance that I have never 
 given the slightest encouragement to the Marquis 
 of Dalrymple. To a proposal of marriage I could 
 not listen, because my affections are engaged to 
 another : — and to a dishonourable proposal there 
 was but one response to give — that of indignation 
 and scorn ! Yet both those proposals were made 
 to me by your Grace's son, the Marquis of Dal- 
 rymple !" 
 
 '■ lae foolish — the wicked boy !" exclaimed the 
 Duchess: then starting from the sofa, she caught 
 both my hands in her own ; and looking me very i 
 
 earnestly in the face, she said, "Yes, I believe you ! 
 Such innocence of aspect never served as the mask 
 of guile ! There was truth in your words— tliere 
 is truth in your eyes ! Oh, Miss Trafford ! how 
 can I possibly thank you enough for the manner 
 in which you have set iny mind at rest ?" 
 
 "I am merely performing a duty which I owe 
 even more to myself than to your Grace," was my 
 answer. 
 
 The Duchess resumed her seat, and appeared to 
 await farther explanations from my lips. 
 
 " In the first instance," I proceeded, " the Mar- 
 quis of Dalrymple made me an honourable pro- 
 posal of marriage — or at least I had every reason 
 to regard his sentiments as honourable at the 
 time ; and I refused it. Believing that he intended 
 honourably, and looking upon him as well, 
 meaning and generous-hearted, I considered the 
 circumstance to be sacredly confidential. He has 
 subsequently insulted me with dishonourable over- 
 tures — which I rejected with scorn. But as a 
 result of that latter proceeding on his part, I now 
 hold myself absolved from the moral obligation of 
 secrecy and silence in respect to the former circum- 
 stance. I have now been candid with your Grace ; 
 and whatever may have been the contents of the 
 billet which I returned unopened " 
 
 "You may read them for yourself," said the 
 Duchess; "and you will thereby learn how partial 
 was the insight I had obtained into all those 
 proceedings concerning which you have given mo 
 such frank and honest explanations." 
 
 I took the billet which the Duchess proffered 
 me; and I found its contents to be couched in 
 some such sense as the following:— 
 
 " How is it that you treated me so coldly to- 
 day ? You know how passionately I loved you — 
 how devotedly I must still love you: and if love 
 rendered me bold as well as hopeful, it surely 
 ought not to be visited with so severe a punish- 
 ment. To refuse to notice me — to scorn the 
 homage of my respectful salutation — these were 
 proceedings on your part which I had not antici- 
 pated! I should not have presumed to write to 
 you, were it not that your coldness tortured mo ; 
 for at least we might have been friends. May I 
 beseech the favour of a single line to set my soul 
 at rest P 
 
 " Daletmple." 
 
 " After the perusal of this letter," I said, " I 
 could scarcely be offended if your Grace had 
 treated me with even a colder reserve than that 
 which you exhibited when I first entered tho 
 room. I have now nothing more to do than to 
 repeat the assurances " 
 
 "It is not necessary. Miss Trafford !" exclaimed 
 the Duchess. " Your conduct is admirable ! Ac- 
 cept my sincerest thanks ! — accept a mother's 
 gratitude ! And if ever circumstances should 
 render my friendship useful, hesitate not to appeal 
 to it. It is scarcely probable that you will have 
 an opportunity of putting me to the test : for in 
 your own sphere your position is most brilliant. 
 But still such an occasion might arise— and I 
 almost hope it will for one reason : namely, that 
 I may convince you of my gratitude." 
 
 I thanked the Duchess of Ardleigh for her 
 kindness ; for I considered that she had behaved
 
 120 
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIES OV AIT ACTEESS. 
 
 admirably throughout. She shook me warmlj by 
 the hand ; and I departed from the mansion. 
 
 On returning to Hunter Street, I found Juliet 
 most anxiously waiting my arrival. Lord Fre- 
 derick EaTeusclifife had been to the bouse : she had 
 intelligence of importance to communicate to me ; 
 and the tidings were evidently good, if I might 
 judge from her looks. 
 
 " Here is the certificate !" she cried, presenting 
 to me a paper. " Frederick received it this morn- 
 icg— and he brought it just now." 
 
 I took the document : but the instant that my 
 eyes fell upon it, my countenance showed that I 
 was smitten with a suspicion of something wrong. 
 " Good heavens, Ellen ! what is the matter ?" 
 exclaimed Juliet, full of the most anxious sus- 
 pense. 
 
 " I must deal candidly with you, my dear 
 friend," I answered ; " for the matter is becoming 
 too serious for any suppression of the truth." 
 
 " Oh ! what mean you, Ellen ?" asked Juliet 
 with feverish excitement : and my poor friend 
 literally shivered in the strength of her mental 
 agony. 
 
 I " This is not the handwriting of Mr. Croft !" I 
 answered: and it cut me to the very soul to be 
 thus compelled to increase Juliet's anguish to the 
 intensest poignancy. 
 
 A shriek, half stifled and subdued, escaped her 
 lips ; and she clasped her hands, evidently with a 
 feeling as if her case were that of desperation. 
 
 "Oh could ho have thus deceived me?" she 
 cried wildly. " But tell me, Ellen — tell me— how 
 
 do you know " 
 
 " It were too long to give explanations," I 
 answered; "but suffice it for you to learn that I 
 am acquainted with the handwriting of Mr. Croft. 
 Yes — I know it well, Juliet ! Only very recently 
 did I see it — and I can assure you that it is 
 utterly different from that which appears upon this 
 paper." 
 
 "Ellen," asked Juliet, in a low hoarao voice, 
 " what, in the name of Grod, does all this mean ? 
 Am I mad ? — or, O heaven ! if not mad, I am be- 
 coming so ! Who is the deceiver ? Is it the cler- 
 gyman ? or is it Frederick ? God have mercy 
 upon me ! what horrible suspicions haunt my mind ! 
 My brain is on fire ! No, it cannot be the clergy- 
 man ! It must be it must be " and she 
 
 convulsively gasped forth the name — " Fre- 
 derick !" 
 
 She sank upon a sofa, covering her face with her 
 hands, weeping and sobbing bitterly, and literally 
 shaking herself from right to left and from left to 
 right in the anguish of her despair. 
 I " Juliet," I said, my resolve being at once taken, 
 " be courageous, even if you cannot be consoled ! 
 It is time that you should do something for your- 
 self— or rather that I should do it for you. I will 
 set oft' this very day for Birmingham — I will go to 
 Embledon— I will see Mr. Crott ; for I do know 
 that he is still there — or at least be was a few days 
 
 back and rest assured that I shall not leave 
 
 him until the best or the worst is known. I con- 
 fess that this affair of the certificate is all a mys- 
 tery to me. But we will not waste time in useless 
 conjectures^— I will depart at once I" 
 
 " Oh, a thousand thanks, dearest Ellen !" cried 
 Juliet, springing from the sofa and winding her 
 arms rouud my neck. " Yea — go, my sweet 
 
 friend ! For heaven's sake return soon ! — my sus- 
 pense will be terrible during your absence !" 
 
 " But you must exercise a command over your 
 feelings, Juliet," I earnestly though hurriedly con- 
 tinned. " For a thousand reasons— -you com- 
 prehend me, Juliet " 
 
 "My parents?" she ejaculated: and she fixed 
 upon me a look half wild, half despairing. 
 
 " Say nothing to them — at least for the pre- 
 sent," I quickly rejoined. "If all be well they 
 need never know how much anguish you have ex- 
 perienced, nor how strange and mysterious were 
 these proceedings until cleared up. But if, on the 
 other hand, I should sadly and mournfully be- 
 come the bearer of evil tidings, it will be time 
 enough to reveal to your parents the causes of 
 your distress." 
 
 "Yes— be it so," replied Juliet. "And yet 
 now — Oh ! how difficult the task to wear a placid 
 countenance when all is agitation and turmoil 
 within ! But your sudden absence, Ellen," ejacu- 
 lated Juliet as the thought struck her: "how is it 
 to be accounted for ?" 
 
 " Say that Lady Lilla Essendine sent for me 
 pressingly," I answered. " I am not to appear at 
 the theatre to-night — and I hope to return to- 
 morrow, hours before the curtain draws up !" 
 
 "And if you do not," suggested Juliet, anxiously, 
 —"if you be detained — if Mr. Croft is absent from 
 home " 
 
 " Then I must leave it to you, Juliet, to say 
 what you will!" I quickly rejoined. "Your af- 
 fairs now concern me before all others. I will de- 
 part at once ! I will go in a cab, so that the ser- 
 vants of the household shall not know what is my 
 destination." 
 
 I sped to my chamber, and hastily made up a 
 small packet of necessaries. I took leave of Juliet, 
 and repaired to the railway station. There was a 
 train about to start : I procured my ticket ; and I 
 was making my way through the crowd which 
 thronged the platform, when I caught a glimpse 
 of a countenance which was well known to me. It 
 was that of Edwin St. Clair. 
 
 Convinced that I had not been observed by him, 
 I plunged into the carriage that was nearest. I 
 took the only place that remained unoccupied : and 
 the door was immediately closed by one of the 
 officials. I had been startled by the sudden ap- 
 pearance of St. Clair ; and for some little while I 
 felt agitated and nervous. Six weeks had elapsed 
 since I had read the announcement of his depar* 
 ture for the Continent; and this was the first 
 knowledge I had of his return. I hoped most 
 sincerely that our last adventure had sickened him 
 of his base attempts against my honour and hap- 
 piness : but on the other hand, I feared lest pre- 
 vious impunity should render him daring and 
 bold for the future. I could not help wondering 
 likewise at the chance that had thus thrown us 
 into the same train ; and I resolved to keep myself 
 out of his sight, if possible. 
 
 I occupied a first class carriage ; and the other 
 seats accommodated ladies and gentlemen all be- 
 longing to the same family. They conversed 
 amongst themselves ; and I remained silent with 
 my veil over my countenance. Presently their 
 discourse turned upon theatrical matters ; for they 
 belonged to Birmingham, and had been to pass a 
 fortnight's holiday in London, during which in-
 
 terval they had visited the public sights and exhi- 
 bitions, as a matter of course, and as I gleaned 
 from what they said. My name vpas soon men- 
 tioned—or rather my assumed name of Miss Traf- 
 ford ; and I had the satisfaction of hearing myself 
 spoken of in terms the most complimentary. They 
 had not the remotest suspicion that the subject of 
 their conversation was present ; and yet they had 
 evidently studied me well when on the stage ; for 
 they spoke minutely of my personal appearance. 
 If I had been endowed with much silly vanity, I 
 should have felt as flattered at the remarks upon 
 my beauty as at those which they passed upon my 
 performance. Presently, one of the ladies, appa- 
 rently determined to wean me from my silence, 
 asked me if I had ever seen Miss Traflfcrd. There 
 was something so ludicrous in the fact of in- 
 quiring whether I had ever seen myself, that if I 
 had been in my wonted spirits I should have 
 assuredly laughed : but being in no mood for mirth, 
 No. 16. — EiiEK Peecx. 
 
 I simply replied in the afBrmative. The lady-— 
 who was an old one — strove hard to elicit my opi- 
 nion of Miss Traftbrd's dramatic pert'oruianco as 
 well as of her personal appearance ; and I had 
 some difficulty in fencing with her questions and 
 avoiding an air of rudeness. She however at 
 length seemed to think that I did not wish for con- 
 versation ; and she accordingly desisted from ad- 
 dressing her remarks to me. 
 
 The journey to Birmingham was performed 
 without any other incident worthy of nute ; and 
 at the places where the train stopped I caught no 
 further glimpse of Captain St. Clair. Ou arriving 
 at our destination, I remained for some lime in my 
 seat, so as to afford St. Clair an opportunity of 
 getting away ere I emerged from the carriage. I 
 had then some difficulty in procuring a vehicle to 
 take me to a hotel : but at length I obtained one. 
 I still saw nothing of St. Clair; and I most sin- 
 cerely hoped that the accidental circumstaaces
 
 122 
 
 ELLBN PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 which had thrown us into the same train, would 
 not carry us to the same inn. Conceiving it to be 
 most probable that St. Clair — if he had indeed 
 come all the way to Birmingham— would go to the 
 principal hotel, I desired to bo driven to a second- 
 rate one. There I ordered some refreshment, and 
 inquired whether I could have a vehicle to take me 
 that same evening to Embledon ? The reply was 
 in the affirmative. I partook slightly of the dinner 
 that was served up ; and I then entered the chaise 
 which was by this time in readiness. 
 
 It was about seven o'clock in the evening when 
 I thus started in a one-horse jhaise ; and I regretted 
 that I had not specified an equipage of two horses, 
 inasmuch as time was precious. Embledon, as the 
 reader will remember, was twenty iniles from Bir- 
 mingham ; and I could not possibly hope to achieve 
 that distance in less than two hours at the very 
 least. However, if I should arrive at my desti- 
 nation shortly after nine o'clock, I might inquire 
 for Mr. Croft that same evening, and leave early on 
 the following morning. 
 
 Such were my reflections during the commence- 
 ment of the journey j and in addition thereto I 
 congratulated myself on having escaped the notice 
 of Edwin St. Clair, I then gradually fell into a 
 irain of meditation in respect to Juliet and the 
 mission on which I was bent. Thus passed the 
 time until we reached a small village, where the 
 driver stopped to bait his horse. Here was a delay 
 of twenty minutes ; and during that interval I re- 
 mained seated in the chaise : for the December 
 night was raw and damp, and the inn or rather 
 public-house was by no means sufficiently inviting 
 for me to enter it. While thus ensconced in the 
 vehicle, I heard the hostler telling the driver of 
 the fly that a post-chaise and pair from Birming. 
 ham had passed along a short while back. 
 
 The journey was resumed at the expiration of 
 the twenty minutes ; and the darkness grew so in- 
 tense that I wondered the man could see his way 
 sufficiently to guide the horse ; for the vehicle had 
 no lamps. All of a sudden there was a crash, 
 instantaneously followed by the fall of the driver 
 into the road, and the toppling over of the chaise 
 to one side. A scream burst from my lips : but 
 the vehicle was not completely upset. I put forth 
 my hand ; and opening the door, descended. 
 Tlirough the deep darkness were my glances 
 plunged ; and I speedily became aware of the 
 nature of the accident. The chaise had come in 
 contact with a mile-stone; and the springs or some 
 portion of the gear beneath the box, had broken 
 or given way — thus disabling the vehicle. The 
 shafts too had become detached with the violence 
 of the sudden resistance offered to the progress of 
 the horse : but the animal was remaining quietly 
 at a little distance. As for the driver, he was lying 
 perfectly motionless in the road ; and the horrible 
 thought struck me that he must be dead. Such 
 was the nature of the accident, the details of which 
 were more quickly embraced by my vision, even 
 amidst the darkness of the evening, than they 
 have occupied in their narration. 
 
 I must confess that it was with a shuddering 
 ecnsation of awe and horror that I bent down over 
 the driver to ascertain if life were really extinct. 
 1 had reason to suppose however that he still lived. 
 I raised him up, and unfastened his neckcloth : I 
 pillowed his head on the cushions taken from the | 
 
 vehicle : but still he did not recover. I examined 
 both sides of the road to see if there were any water 
 — but there was none. I flung my eyes around 
 me in a species of despair : but joy sprang up in 
 my heart whea I caught a glimpse of a light at a 
 distance. I watched it earnestly for a few mo- 
 ments, in the dread lest it should only prove to be 
 a will-'o-the-wisp and escape me altogether. But 
 no! — it burnt steadily; and as near as I could 
 conjecture, it was about half a mile farther along 
 the road. Again I examined the driver to see 
 whether he gave any signs of returning animation: 
 but he lay torpid as before —though I still had 
 reason to hope that life was nob extinct. Now, 
 therefore, as the only alternative, I sped forward 
 in the direction of the light, for the purpose of 
 obtaining assistance. 
 
 A few minutes brought me near enough to ascer- 
 tain that the light shone from a window ; and on 
 a still nearer approach, I discovered that the place 
 was a small cottage standing back a few yards 
 from the road, with a low paling skirting a littlo 
 front garden, or enclosure of some kind. 
 
 I soon found the gate ; and opening it, hastened 
 to the cottage-door. I knocked with my hand as 
 loudly as I could : but nearly two minutes elapsed 
 before my summons produced any effect. I was 
 on the point of repeating it, when the door was 
 opened by a female carrying a light in her hand ; 
 and to my astonishment I at once recognised that 
 old gipsy whom I had seen in the neighbourhood 
 of Lady Lilla Essendine's residence, and who had 
 summoned her ladyship to an interview through 
 the medium of a wild rose. The old crone recog- 
 nised me as quickly as I knew her ; and she ex- 
 claimed in astonishment, " What ! sweet young 
 lady, is it you— alone— in this part of the country 
 —at such an hour too ?" 
 
 "An accident has happened," I hastily cried, 
 " to a chaise in which I was travelling : the driver 
 was thrown off his box — I fear that he is very 
 
 seriously hurt ! Pray come or send " 
 
 " One moment ! one moment !" said the old 
 crone ; " and you shall have assistance. Eemain 
 here." 
 
 She opened a door in the little passage where 
 she had made her appearance ; and she passed into 
 the room with which it communicated, — closing it 
 behind her, I remained on the threshold of the 
 front door ; and a vague fear arose in my mind. 
 I did not like that old gipsy's look ; and it seemed 
 strange that she should thus return into the room 
 in a manner as if to speak to somebody whom she 
 did not wish me to see, or else that I should not 
 overhear her words. I was alone, in the darkness 
 of the evening : the place itself was lonely ; and 
 thus it was scarcely to be wondered at if I felt 
 somewhat afraid. In about a minute the old 
 gipsy reappeared ; and coming completely out of 
 the house, she closed the front door behind her. 
 
 " One moment, my sweet young lady !" she 
 cried: "one moment. Miss — and my grand- 
 daughter Zarah shall accompany you to the spot 
 where the accident has occurred ! — Now you can 
 walk in," she added, as if sufficient time had been 
 allowed for some one to leave the ground-floor 
 room while the front door was closed. 
 
 "I will wait for your grand-daughter here," I 
 answered, not liking to set foot within the cot- 
 tage.
 
 ELLEN TEKCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 123 
 
 " No, no ! — wait not in the cold !" rejoined the 
 crone, flinging open the front door again. " The 
 air is bleak— and my grand-daughter will be two 
 or three minutes before she will be ready to ac- 
 company you. Sho has just run up-stairs to dress 
 herself. You surely are not too proud to enter 
 my humble dwelling ?" 
 
 " No," I responded, suddenly putting aside my 
 fears at this appeal from the old woman. " But 
 for heaven's eake let your grand- daughter make 
 baste !— or do you yourself come with me !" 
 
 "Zarah will go," said the crone. "Pray walk 
 in and warm yourself for a minute by the fire." 
 
 I entered the passage : the old woman threw 
 open the door ; and with every appearance of 
 respectfulness she stood aside for me to pass before 
 Ler into the room. But the instant I entered, 
 she closed the door violently, and turned the key 
 in the lock. 
 
 A cry burst from my lips as I thus found 
 myself a prisoner; and I turned quickly round to 
 try and force open the door. But it was too late. 
 It waa a ground floor room ; and I sped to the 
 window, which was a small one of the lattice de- 
 scription. I opened it : but the light of the candle 
 which was burning upon the table, showed me 
 that it had bars outside. 
 
 " Do not be afraid, my sweet young lady !" said 
 the voice of the old crone, as her countenance ap- 
 peared at those bars. " Tell mo where the accident 
 occurred; and Zarah shall speed to the succour of 
 the man " 
 
 " Infamous woman !" I ejaculated : " how dare 
 you treat me thus ? If you require money I will 
 give it to you : but I demand that you immedi- 
 ately restore me to freedom." 
 
 "That cannot be. Miss Percy," answered the 
 old gipsy, now for the first time addressing me by 
 my name. " As for your money, keep it." 
 
 " Good heavens !" I exclaimed, as wild appre- 
 hensions swept through my mind; "what is the 
 meaning of this? For God's sake tell me! — keep 
 me not in suspense ! — let me know the worst, 
 whatever it be !" 
 
 " My sweet girl, you need have no fear for your 
 life," responded the old gipsy. "No one will harm 
 a hair of your head. But tell me in which direc- 
 tion the accident has occurred " 
 
 " At a very short distance towards Birming- 
 ham," I answered, thinking that in any case the 
 unfortunate driver had better have assistance as 
 Boon as possible. " But I beseech you " 
 
 I stopped short ; for the hideous wrinkled coun- 
 tenance of the old woman was withdrawn from the 
 bars through which she had been staring at me ; 
 and in a few moments I heard her re-enter the 
 house. From the passage she called out in a loud 
 tone for her grand-daughter; and then I heard 
 hasty footsteps descending a staircase. There was 
 some whispering in the passage ; I stole to the 
 door to listen, if possible, to what was being said : 
 but I could not catch a single syllable. I however 
 heard one of the whisperers immediately after- 
 wards leave the house ; and I concluded it must 
 be Zarah. The front door w^as then closed ; and 
 the old woman began ascending the stairs— for I 
 could tell that it was she by her footsteps. 
 
 I had now leisure to glance around me; and I 
 found that I was in a small meanly furnished 
 room. There was a rag of a carpet upon the floor 
 
 — a small round table in the centre — three or four 
 common rush-bottomed chairs — and some wretched 
 coloured prints, in black painted frames, suspended 
 to the dingy walls. I sat down, almost overcome 
 by this sudden calamity which had befallen me. 
 There was an image, like that of the Genius of 
 Mischief floating in my brain ; for apart from this 
 association I could by no means form the slightest 
 conjecture in respect to the motive of my capti- 
 vity. I rose from my seat, and tried the bars with 
 my hands. They were thin, but firmly set in the 
 brick-work of the wall. I pulled hard at one of 
 them : but my attempt to move it was vain. I 
 was about to examine the door to see if it were 
 possible to wrench off the lock, when I heard the 
 footsteps of a man descending the stairs. I now 
 felt that I should know the worst. The key turned 
 in the lock — the door opened— and he whose image 
 had previously been floating in my mind, made his 
 appearance. Need I inform the reader that this 
 was Edwin St. Clair ? 
 
 As he entered the room, an expression of 
 triumph, malignant and mischievous, appeared 
 upon his countenance; and I said within myself, 
 " N-ow God help me !" — for I felt that I was 
 completely in his power. But still I endeavoured 
 to assume an air of confidence and indignation, 
 80 that the terror which I really experienced 
 should not be apparent. 
 
 " Fortune has favoured me, Ellen," began St. 
 Clair, as he locked the door and placed the key in 
 his pocket. " This is an unexpected pleasure. I 
 have been thinking of you — I have been speaking 
 of you : but little did I dream a few minutes back 
 that circumstances would so soon bring us face to 
 face again 1" 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," I answered, " you seem to 
 have marked me out as an object for your ran- 
 corous persecution. Heaven has hitherto protected 
 me ; and heaven will protect me again ! Towards 
 myself I have acted foolishly, in abstaining from 
 an invocation of the law to punish you for your 
 past misconduct : but this time " 
 
 " This time, Ellen," interrupted St. Clair, with 
 a malignant smile— but at the same time fixing 
 his burning regards upon me in a way that filled 
 me with afi'right, — "this time I will not be lenient 
 towards you : I will make you mine ! The pride 
 of Ellen Percy will prevent her from going forth 
 to the world to proclaim her own dishonour; and 
 she will accept her destiny — namely, that of St. 
 Clair's mistress," 
 
 "Never, villain!" I exclaimed. "I will die 
 sooner !" 
 
 " The days of romance are gone by," he inter- 
 jected, with a scoffing tone ; " and young ladies do 
 not die so readily as in books or on the stage. I 
 tell you, Ellen, that you shall be mine ! You might 
 have been my wife : more than once have I offered 
 you my hand— and I swear that at the time I was 
 serious and sincere ! But you scorned my love: 
 you have covered me witha thousaud humiliations 
 — the tables are however turning — and it is now 
 yourself that will be humiliated ! Think you not 
 that I have a vengeance to wreak as well as a pas- 
 sion to gratify ? You know, EUeu, that I am a 
 strange being : I am not like other men. I can 
 lovo and hate at the same time. You told Lady 
 Lilla Essendine how you baflled me on the last 
 occasion that you were at my house : you placed in
 
 ber bands a terrible weapon to use against me; 
 you enabled ber to wring my heart with her irony 
 and excruciate my soul with her scoffing. You did 
 not spare me, Ellen " 
 
 " I declare to you, Captain St. Clair," I an- 
 swered, terrified by bis tone and bis looks, " that 
 except to Lady Lilla Essendine I never mentioned 
 that occurrence. She received me in ber carriage 
 that night when I escaped from your bouse : and 
 I was forced to give ber an explanation. I have 
 spared you. Captain St. Clair ! — I have spared you 
 too much ! If there be in your disposition one 
 spark of generosity " 
 
 " I will tell you, EUen," interrupted St. Clair, 
 " to what extent my generosity reaches. I will 
 leave you here for one half-hour's reflection ; and I 
 will tell you what you have to reflect upon. It 
 is whether you will surrender yourself to my 
 arms " 
 
 " Silence, sir ! enough !" I indignantly exclaimed. 
 "Tour words are fraught with insult !" 
 
 " If it be so," he said, in a dogged and resolute 
 manner, " there is no need for leniency ! Ah, 
 proud beauty ! the moment for your humiliation is 
 come !" 
 
 He was advancing towards me, with looks that 
 filled me with the wildest terror, — when it sud- 
 denly struck me that it was a perfect act of mad- 
 ness on my part not to have gained the half-hour 
 which he proS"ered : for in that space of time the 
 band of providence, through the seeming medium 
 of the chapter of accidents, might afford me the 
 means of safety and escape. 
 
 "Speak! speak!" I cried. "Oh, what would 
 you have me reflect upon F" 
 
 " Ah ! are you growing reasonable ?" be said, 
 with a sort of sneering satisfaction. " You will at 
 least be wise to become so ! Now, understand 
 your position well, Ellen. You are completely in 
 my power — this house is lonely — all the wildest 
 shrieks or most frantic cries which your lips might 
 send forth, would fail to bring you succour. As 
 for myself, I am resolute and determined. My 
 love for you has been, and still is, a madness and 
 an infatuation ! Eeflect therefore whether you 
 will resignedly accept your destiny — whether you 
 will receive with a willing hand the wealth that I 
 am enabled to shower upon you — and whether you 
 will become my mistress as if you were won as 
 other women may be won ! Let your decision be 
 in the affirmative, and the thought of vengeance 
 instantaneously vanishes from my mind. I will 
 not treat you as one whom I have humiliiited— but 
 as one whom I am to cherish and love. I will be 
 to you all tenderness and afiection. Though your 
 master now, I will henceforth become your slave. 
 You shall be as happy, Ellen, as it is in my power 
 to render you ; — and to make you independent of 
 the world I will settle thousands upon you !" 
 
 It was with the utmost difficulty I could stifle 
 my indignant feelings, or keep down the burning 
 glow from my cheeks, as I listened to this speech. 
 But so desperate was my position — in the power 
 of a man whose character was equally desperate — 
 that I was nerved with an extraordinary self- 
 possession in order to carry the point on which 
 alone my salvation seemed to depend. I therefore 
 assumed an air of reflection ; and when St. Clair 
 had finished speakieg, I said, " Leave — leave me ! 
 Give me leisure to resign myself to my fate !" 
 
 "I knew that you would become reasonable!" 
 he ejaculated, with a look of triumph: then has- 
 tily consulting his watch, he added, " In balf-an- 
 hour I shall return." 
 
 He issued from the room, locking the door upon 
 me. I flew to the iron bars once more : I tore at 
 them — Oh ! with what desperate energy did I en- 
 deavour to wrench them forth : but all in vain ! 
 Thus several minutes elapsed ; and I threw myself, 
 exhausted and wretched, upon a seat. But it was 
 only to start up again in a few moments : and then 
 I examined the door. The lock was let into the 
 wood itself, and could not therefore be wrenched 
 ofi". There were fire-irons in the grate ; and these 
 might serve as implements to break down the 
 door : but I knew that at the very first sound in- 
 dicative of an attempt to escape, my persecutor 
 would return. "What could I do ? The precious 
 minutes were flitting by : for. Oh ! time goes so 
 quickly when it is most valuable; — and my posi- 
 tion seemed hopeless. I wrung my bands in de- 
 spair : I could scarcely prevent myself from shriek- 
 ing out— but I knew how useless it would be ! 
 
 All of a sudden I heard a footstep underneath 
 the window ; and glancing in that direction, I be- 
 held the countenance of Zarah, the younger gipsy, 
 close against the bars. Her finger was upon her 
 lip to enjoin silence; and hope sprang up in my 
 heart. The next instant I was at the window. 
 
 '•' Give me your kerchief, and one of the fire 
 implements," said Zarah, in the lowest possible 
 whisper. 
 
 I hastened to obey : and she observed, " You 
 have doubtless seen him ? How long can you 
 reckon that it will be ere his return ?" 
 
 " He has given me half-an-hour to reflect " 
 
 " Enough ! I thought it was something of that 
 sort. Be silent !" 
 
 Zarah took my kerchief, which she tied tightly 
 round the two central bars — for they were four in 
 number. Then, by means of the poker which I 
 had given ber from the grate, she kept twisting 
 the handkerchief in such a manner that the efi'ect 
 was to bring the bending bars nearer and nearer 
 towards each other. She worked with dexterity 
 and vigour ; and I watched the progress with an 
 intense anxiety. I comprehended that she sought 
 to accomplish my escape without being herself 
 suspected that she had done so. In a few minutes 
 the bars came out of their sockets at the lower 
 extremities ; and it was then a comparatively easy 
 task to remove them altogether. 
 
 " Lay them down in the room, together with 
 the kerchief," whispered Zarah, whose handsome 
 countenance was now beaming with a satisfaction 
 that had a certain degree of malignity in it, as if 
 she were rejoiced at baffling the schemes of Edwin 
 St. Clair: for I could not suppose that it was 
 through any particular love for me that the gipsy 
 was thus acting. 
 
 I laid the bars, together with the kerchief and 
 the poker which its twisted coils enfolded, upon 
 the nearest chair ; and aided by Zarah, I passed 
 through the window. 
 
 " This way !" she said, still speaking in the 
 lowest possible whisper : and she led me round to 
 the back part of the premises. 
 
 There a gate opened into a field, through which 
 she conducted me in silence. Thus, by a circuitous 
 route, she gained the road : but I knew that the
 
 EXtEN 3PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AW ACTRESS. 
 
 125 
 
 spot thus reached was in the direction exactly 
 contrary to that where the accident to the vehicle 
 had occurred : for the latter was on the Birming. 
 ham side of the cottage — whereas I was now on 
 the Embledon side. Here the gipsy stopped 
 short; and addressed me in the following terms :— 
 
 "I have now rendered you a service, Miss 
 Percy ; and the only favour I need in return, is 
 that you will never sufier it to transpire that you 
 were liberated by me. St. Clair will think that 
 you effected your own escape :— let him remain 
 under that impression. I need scarcely add that 
 for the sake of my grandmother and myself, you 
 will remain equally silent in respect to the treat- 
 ment you experienced at our cottage. The driver 
 of your chaise has recovered ; but the vehicle is 
 too much damaged for you to proceed in it. He 
 told me that you are bound to Embledon. Hasten 
 along the road ; and in a few minutes you will 
 meet a post-chaise and pair. Hesitate not to stop 
 it, and inquire of the postilion whether he cannot 
 return and take you to your destination ? He will 
 tell you that he was hired by a gentleman at Bir- 
 mingham to bring him to that cottage; and in 
 pursuance of the orders given, he is on his way to 
 take him up again, having baited his horses at the 
 nearest way-side public-house. Say boldly at once 
 that you know the gentleman — he is Captain St. 
 Clair — and that you have his authority for using 
 the post-chaise. If you manage the matter well 
 you cannot possibly fail of success ; and you will 
 save yourself from wandering along this lonely 
 road, on foot, and in the darkness. Here is your 
 packet of necessaries : I brought it with me from 
 the broken chaise : — for from the very first I was 
 resolved in aiding you to escape from the cot- 
 tage." 
 
 " But the driver of that vehicle ?" I interjected : 
 " I must remunerate the poor man " 
 
 "I have already done so," answered Zarah. 
 " He is perfectly satisfied ; and I have moreover 
 given him to understand that you have found 
 another means of conveyance. And now fare- 
 well." 
 
 The gipsy did not wait to receive the expressions 
 of my gratitude : but she hurried precipitately 
 away, and was instantaneously lost to mj view in 
 the surrounding darkness. With a fervid and 
 exultant joy at my heart did I speed along the 
 road ; and in a few minutes I beheld two twinkling 
 lights in the distance. Almost immediately after- 
 wards the sounds of an approaching equipage were 
 wafted to my ear ; and the expected post-chaise 
 and pair, with its lamps lighted, came up. I called 
 to the postilion to stop — which he at once did; 
 and I demanded, " Is this a return chaise ?" 
 
 " No," he replied— and not very civilly ; for it 
 was natural he should think it strange to be thus 
 accosted by a female at such an hour, it being now 
 nine o'clock in the evening. - 
 
 "I am sorry for that," I said: "for I would re- 
 munerate you handsomely " 
 
 " Beg your pardon, ma'am — I didn't see at first 
 it was a lady I was talking to. I've got to take 
 up a gentleman at a little cottage about half a 
 mile further along the road——" 
 
 "What?" I exclaimed, in affected astonish- 
 ment ; " a gentleman whom you brought from Bir- 
 mingham " 
 
 " The very same, ma'am," answered the postilion. 
 
 " Then I know him well!" I ejaculated : "he is 
 Captain St. Clair." 
 
 " To be sure, ma'am ! But " 
 
 " Oh ! he does not want the chaise," I at onco 
 cried : " he purposes to remain where he is. I 
 have his full authority for using it. You must 
 turn and take me to Embledon — and I will give 
 you a guinea for your trouble, besides the ex- 
 penses." 
 
 Tlie postilion was completely satisfied : I took 
 my seat in the chaise ; and the equipage, being 
 turned round, bore me in the direction of Em- 
 bledun. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 ME CEOFT. 
 
 DtTErNO the drive thither, I reflected upon the 
 incidents which had occurred to me, as well as 
 upon other circumstances which they recalled to 
 my memory. I could not help thinking that it 
 was from a deeper motive than mere compassion j 
 or friendly feeling that the younger gipsy had in- j 
 terfered on my behalf— thereby baffling the diabo- I 
 lical design of St. Clair. That St. Clair himself ' 
 should be in any way connected with those gipsies 
 — that he should have business to transact with 
 them— and that he should travel all the way from 
 London on purpose to visit them, were matters 
 which excited my astonishment. Those same 
 gipsies were likewise acquainted with Lady Lilla 
 Essendine ; and her ladyship had been induced to 
 obey the elder crone's summons by means similar 
 to those which, at Lady Lilla's own suggestion, I 
 had adopted to overawe St. Clair. There was a 
 combination of mysteries in all these things which 
 I could not fathom by any possible conjecture; 
 and now that I found St. Clair to be connected 
 with those gipsies, I thought more seriously than 
 ever of Lady Lilla's connexion with them. In- 
 deed, suspicions floated in my mind which were 
 not altogether favourable to her ladyship : I feared 
 that, figuratively speaking, she wore a mask— and 
 that after all she must have been the writer of 
 that fragment of a letter which I had in my pos- 
 session — and consequently that she was the victim 
 of an illicit love for the nephew of her deceased 
 husband. 
 
 Though there was something to pain and grieva 
 me in these reflections— for I had liked Lady Lilla, 
 and had received so much kindness at her hands- 
 yet was there a fervid joy in my heart at havingf 
 escaped from the power of so desperate a villain 
 as St. Clair. I regretted nevertheless that Zarah 'a 
 injunctions bound me to the strictest secrecy in 
 respect to the transaction of this particular even- 
 ing : for otherwise I would certainly have invoked 
 the aid of the law to punish him for his infamous 
 conduct, as well as to protect myself in future 
 against his machinations. But I considered my- 
 self to be bound in honour, as well as by the ties 
 of gratitude, to respect those injunctions on the 
 younger gipsy's part ; and it was now too late to 
 appeal to the magisterial authority in reference to 
 Edwin St. Clair's former villanous proceedings to- 
 wards me. That he was bent upon effecting my 
 ruin, if he possessed the power, was only to.; evi-
 
 123 
 
 ELLEN Percy; oe, thb memoies of an ACTEEsg. 
 
 dent : be was a remorselesa persecutor ; aud I felt 
 how needful it was to be tbencefortb completely 
 upon my guard against the operations of his trea- 
 chery. 
 
 I arrived in safety at Embledon : but it was then 
 too late to visit Mr. Croft ; and being thoroughly 
 wearied by all I had gone through, I longed to re- 
 tire to rest. I certainly did not like the idea of 
 taking up my quarters in a miserable public- 
 house; for Embledon could boast of nothing 
 better : but there was no alternative — and to that 
 miserable inn did I accordingly direct the postilion 
 to take me. On alighting at the place, I expe- 
 rienced no small degree of satisfaction on finding 
 that the house was perfectly silent; for I had 
 dreaded lest there might be a horde of tippling 
 villagers or peasants in the tap-room. I however 
 beheld no one but the blear-eyed old woman who 
 was the mistress of the place ; and she received me 
 with a respectful curtsey. I asked if I could be 
 accommodated with a chamber for the night ?— 
 and I was conducted to one which, though ex- 
 ceedingly small and very poorly furnished, was 
 nevertheless cleanly. 
 
 "I believe," I said, "that the name of your 
 clergyman here is Mr. Croft f" 
 
 " Yes— it be, ma'am," answered the old woman. 
 
 "And do you happen to know whether he is at 
 home ?" I said : " for I have come to Embledon on 
 purpose to see him." 
 
 " Ob, yes, ma'am ! I know he be at home !" 
 rejoined the landlady; "cos why him and Mrs. 
 Croft has a party this evening." 
 
 " Mrs. Croft ?" I ejaculated : and I was about 
 to put some more questions, when thinking it 
 would appear strange, I said, " Thank you : good 
 night." 
 
 The old woman retired ; and I was left alone 
 in the little chamber. One point of information 
 which I had elicited was satisfactory : namely, that 
 Mr. Croft was at home, and that therefore I should 
 be enabled to see him in the morning. But I was 
 surprised to learn that he was married : for he had 
 distinctly told me on the former occasion when I 
 was at Embledon, that there was no lady at his 
 house who could receive me — by which I under- 
 stood him to mean that he was not a married man. 
 I however reflected that he might possibly have 
 intended to intimate that his wife was from home 
 at the time. I retired to rest, and slept soundly 
 until morning. 
 
 At eight o'clock I rose, and partook of the break- 
 fast that was served up. I asked no more ques. 
 tions relative to the clergyman ; but at about nine 
 o'clock I proceeded towards the habitation which 
 Mr. Croft himself had pointed out to me on the 
 occasion of my previous visit. It was then em- 
 bowered by the foliage of the surrounding trees : 
 but now these trees were all stripped of their 
 leaves, and the cold wind of winter moaned amidst 
 their skeleton branches. The house was a small 
 one, but of picturesque and genteel appearance; 
 and it stood in the midst of a garden, which was 
 sopi\rated by a paddock from the churchyard. I 
 ad canoed up to the front door; and my summons 
 was answered by a buxom, neatly-attired servant- 
 girl. I inquired if Mr. Croft were at homo .!*— she 
 replied iu the affirmative ; and conducting me into 
 a parlour, requested to know what name she should 
 mention p 
 
 " Have the kindness to say that Miss Percy from 
 London has called," I answered. 
 
 I remained alone in the parlour for about five 
 minutes, — at the expiration of which interval the 
 door opened ; and a short stout gentleman, about 
 sixty years of age, and with a very red face, made 
 his appearance. Ha wore a somewhat shabby 
 morning gown ; and therefore I concluded that he 
 must be an inmate of the house — probably some 
 friend staying with Mr. Croft : but he was alto- 
 gether unlike Mr. Croft himself. He bowed with 
 sufficient politeness— requested me to be seated— 
 and taking a chair also, looked at me as if waiting 
 to know mj business. 
 
 " I called to see the Eeverend Mr. Croft," I 
 said. 
 
 " I am Mr. Croft," was the reply, which startled 
 and bewildered me. 
 
 " But perhaps, sir," I said, after a pause, " you 
 are not the minister of the village ? You are the 
 brother no doubt " 
 
 " I am the incumbent of Embledon, Miss Percy," 
 responded the clergyman : and he himself evidently 
 began to think that there was something strange 
 in the turn which our interview was taking. 
 
 " There is a mistake, sir," I observed : " you are 
 not the gentleman whom I expected to see. Per- 
 haps there is another clergyman of the same 
 name " 
 
 " Ah ! I begin to comprehend," exclaimed the 
 reverend gentleman. " There is another Mr. Croft 
 living at Embledon : but I am not acquainted with 
 him — neither was I previously aware that he was 
 a clergyman. It is he doubtless whom you seek. 
 He lodges at the linendraper's, in the very centre of 
 the village." 
 
 I rose, and expressed my regret for having in- 
 truded upon Mr. Croft. He looked very muci as 
 if he would like to know what business it was that 
 had brought me to Embledon : but I of course did 
 not choose to give any explanation. I thanked 
 him for his courtesy, and took my departure, my 
 mind most painfully afflicted on Juliet's account. 
 
 I had no difiiculty in finding the linendraper's, 
 which was a very superior establishment for so 
 small a place. Enocking at the private door, I 
 inquired of the female servant who answered the 
 summons, if Mr. Croft were at home ?— but that 
 gentleman himself immediately came running down 
 the stairs ; and at the first glance I saw that bis 
 look was strange and excited as he recognised me. 
 He was dressed in precisely the same style as when 
 I had last seen him, except that his clothes were 
 new and his white cravat was cleaner. Quickly 
 recovering from the evident embarrassment into 
 which my appearance had thrown him, he invited 
 me to walk up-stairs, — his manner being full of 
 courtesy — his tone bland and mild. I followed him 
 up into a well-furnished room, where a number of 
 books were ranged upon shelves : but there was an 
 air of untidiness about the apartment— and several 
 newspapers littered the floor. Mr. Croft invited 
 me to be seated ; and depositing himself in an easy 
 chair which stood near the table, he said, " What 
 has again brought you, Miss Percy, to Emble- 
 don ?" 
 
 "The object of my visit is soon explained, Mr. 
 Croft," I answered. " May I without faitlicr pre- 
 face beg to be informed whether you have ut any 
 time given a certificate of that marriage • '
 
 ELLEU PERCY ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 127 
 
 " Why do you ask ?" he rlemanded : and in the 
 eager anxiety with which he spoke, he forgot to 
 assume the bland and dulcet voice in which he had 
 previously addressed me : so that back to my mind 
 came the suspicion, almost amounting to a convic- 
 tion that he was really the individual who had 
 visited my grandfather at Leeds, and Mrs. Parks 
 subsequently in London. 
 
 lie saw that I gazed uppn him in a peculiar 
 manner, and that I had started when he spoke in 
 his natural lone. He seemed confused; and re- 
 suming; his feigned voice, he hastened to say, " Tell 
 me. Miss Percy — why do you question me relative 
 to a certificate ?" 
 
 "There is no necessity to keep any secrets from 
 you," I replied. "You know that I am intimate 
 with Mr. Norman's daughter — for I scarcely know 
 whether to call her Miss Norman still, or Lady 
 Frederick Ravenscliffe — and it is precisely on ac- 
 count of this terrible doubt, that I have under- 
 taken the present journey with the determination 
 of having it set at rest, Juliet is a virtuous, a 
 well-principled, and a high-minded young lady. 
 Por the sake of the love which she bears Lord 
 Frederick, she consented to a private marriage, 
 and will continue to keep that marriage secret so 
 long as circumstances may render such silence ex- 
 pedient for the young nobleman's interests. But 
 she wishes to have the certitude that she is indeed 
 a wedded wife : and this is all the more necessary, 
 ijnsmuch as she is in a way to become a mother." 
 "You now speak as if you had no doubt that 
 she is a wedded wife," said Mr. Croft j "and yet 
 but a few moments back you intimated your un- 
 certainty upon the subject." 
 
 " I confess, sir," was my answer, " that I have 
 the most cruel misgivings, which it is for you to 
 clear up. I thought that you were tbe incumbent 
 of Embledon — whereas I find that you are not. 
 You yourself told me that you lived at the par- 
 sonage—you yourself gave me to understand that 
 it was in the neighbouring church where your 
 duties were performed; and all this, Mr. Croft, 
 turns out to be utterly false !" 
 
 He became pale as death, and flung upon me so 
 peculiar a look that I was half- frightened : for it 
 seemed as if there were rage in that look, but 
 blended with the expression of some other feeling 
 that I could not understand. 
 
 " Then you have been to the parsonage ?" he 
 said: "you have seen my namesake there ? — and 
 perhaps you have told him the object of your visit 
 to this village ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Croft — I told him nothing of my pur- 
 poses," I answered : " I gave him no explanations. 
 But, Oh ! I perceive that my worst misgivings are 
 confirmed ! Your looks and your words prove it ! 
 —•and Juliet has been the victim of some trea- 
 chery ! Tell me, Mr. Croft — are you really that 
 which you represented yourself to be ? — are you a 
 clergyman? You do not reply ! Ob, your silence 
 now sets every doubt at rest, and gives a horrible 
 confirmation to the worst fears that have been en- 
 tertained! Juliet, I repeat, has been made the 
 victim of a villanous perfidy ! But her parents 
 will now know all ; — and rest assured that punish- 
 ment will overtake you !" 
 
 Mr. Croft rose from his seat, evidently labouring 
 under the most powerful emotions. He paced to 
 and fro in the room : then be stopped and looked 
 
 at me, as if he had something to say but hesitated 
 to say it. He resumed liis walk : he paused and 
 looked at me again ; and then he said, " Tell me 
 what has awakened thoso suspicions which led to 
 this present journey of your's to Embledon?" 
 
 "A certificate was displayed to Juliet, purport- 
 ing to have been written by you. Accident enabled 
 me to declare at once that it was not your hand- 
 writing " 
 
 "And that accident?" ejaculated Mr, Croft 
 quickly, and evidently smitten with amazement. 
 " How could you possibly know my handwriting?" 
 
 I saw no harm in explaining that circumstance; 
 and I moreover felt that every fresh thing I said 
 was calculated to elicit from Mr. Croft's lips some- 
 thing that it behoved me to know. I there- 
 fore tol 1 him how I had picked up Mr. Parks's 
 pocket-book, and had seen therein the note 
 which he had written acknowledging, the receipt 
 of a pecuniary remittance. 
 
 " And let me add, Mr. Croft," I said, " that the 
 conviction is again strong in my mind that you 
 and I met not for the first time on the evening 
 when you so wickedly assumed a sacred character 
 to which you evidently are not entitled." 
 
 He again paced the room ; and though I felt 
 that I ought at once to take my departure, yet 
 still was I retained there by some strong feeling of 
 curiosity which I can scarcely however describe, 
 but which exercised a complete sway over me. 
 
 "And you will return to London," he said, again 
 suddenly stopping short, "and you will tell your 
 friend Juliet and her parents " 
 
 "Yes, everything!" I exclaimed, rising from my 
 seat. "Oh! how could you have been so wicked 
 as to practise such a dreadful deception ? And that 
 
 young ncbleman Oh! to think that he should 
 
 have thvis ruined for ever the peace of mind of her 
 whom he professed to love ! Mr. Croft, a crime 
 has been comniitted which calls for all the ven- 
 geance which the law can wreak unless indeed 
 
 Lord Frederick will now repair by a real marriage 
 the terrific injury he has inflicted by a false 
 one." 
 
 " You see, Ellen," said Mr. Croft, now address- 
 ing me by my Christian name in a way as if he 
 were familiarly accustomed so to do — and I started 
 visibly at the circumstance, — "you see, Ellen," ho 
 continued, not appearing to notice that I thus 
 started, " I have not as yet admitted the truth of 
 your accusations : neither have I denied it. I will 
 do the former now. Yes— it is true that I con- 
 sented to become the agent of Lord Frederick's 
 villany : I admit it ! But I was completely in 
 his power Ah, if you knew all !" 
 
 " Tell me— tell me," I exclaimed, " why did you 
 visit my grandfather at Leeds. You cannot deny 
 that it was you ! You have been speaking in 
 your natural voice— and I have recognised it ! 
 There is some strange mystery hanging around 
 you, Mr. Croft ; and I feel that this mystery is 
 associated with myself. Did you not allude to me 
 in that brief note which you sent the other day to 
 Mr. Parks ? How can you be interested in the 
 success of my career ? If I be really a stranger to 
 you But, no ! I am not !" 
 
 "Now listen to me, Ellen," said Mr. Croft, lean- 
 ing forward with both his hands upon the table, 
 and gazing upon me so fixedly that for a moment 
 I averted my looks: but when I again turned
 
 128 
 
 £LLEir FEBCY; OB, THE UE&IOIBS OP AIT ACIBESS. 
 
 them upou bim, his countenance exhibited much 
 of the powerful emotions that were agitating 
 within him. " You had better not ask me for ex- 
 planations !" 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated, as a recollection smote me. 
 
 "Those threats which Mr. Parks held out did 
 
 they indeed point at something with which yon 
 are connected ?" 
 
 "Threats?" cried Mr, Croft. "What! dared 
 Parks hold out threats to you ?" 
 
 " Mr. Parks is a villain !" I exclaimed vehe- 
 mently ; " and bis wife, I am afraid, is of as evil 
 a disposition as himself." 
 
 "By heaven!" cried Mr. Croft, with a sudden 
 paroxysm of rage : but immediately checking 
 himself, he asked, " What have those people done 
 to you ?" 
 
 "They surrendered me into the power of a 
 wretch who sought my ruin " 
 
 " But — but — you escaped doubtless ? — you es- 
 caped, Ellen?— did you not ?" 
 
 " Is it possible," I exclaimed, " that you know 
 anything of all this ?" 
 
 "No — by heaven no!" ejaculated Mr. Croft 
 vehemently, " I am asking you the question ! 
 Perhaps in my anxiety it seemed like putting 
 
 words into your piouth But tell me ■■" 
 
 "If I had not escaped that snare, Mr. Croft," 
 I quickly answered, " I should not now be speak- 
 ing of it. But explain, I beseech you, why all 
 this interest on my account ? — why this anxiety ? 
 —why these feelings so powerfully excited now ?" 
 "Do not ask me, Ellen !" he replied : and again 
 ho began to pace the room. 
 
 " You speak to me as if I were a relation," I 
 said, approaching him in his troubled walk; "and 
 every fresh word that is uttered, excites me with 
 a burning desire to learn something more." 
 
 "Have you not just now proclaimed yourself 
 my enemy ?" he asked, almost with fierceness : 
 " are you not about to return to London that my 
 name may be handed over to the cognizance of 
 justice ? — shall I not be obliged to flee from 
 this seclusion which I have found — the retreat of 
 this peaceful village in which I am hiding my 
 head? Go and do it, Ellen! — but perhaps the 
 
 day will come No, no, it shall not! There! 
 
 leave me ! I have nothing more to say." 
 
 " Oh, but you must tell me what you mean !" I 
 exclaimed, powerfully excited : " we must not 
 separate thus ! Show that you have some claim 
 upon me ; and great as your wickedness has been 
 towards that unfortunate young woman, I will 
 
 nevertheless intercede " 
 
 "I tell you not to ask me for explanations!" 
 he responded petulantly : then, as a sudden thought 
 seemed to strike him, he said, "But those threats 
 which the false scoundrel Parks held out to you 
 ——what were they ?" 
 
 " He warned me that with one single word he 
 
 could make my head bend in shame " 
 
 " He said that ? — he dared to say that ?" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Croft : and paler than ever grew his 
 face, while he almost gnashed his teeth, and he 
 clenched his fists with rage: then he resumed his 
 agitated walk ; and he muttered fiercely to him- 
 self— but I could not catch the sense of what ho 
 was thus saying. 
 
 "But he told me more than that !" I presently 
 continued ; " he said that he and his wife were 
 
 acquainted with a secret connected with my affairs 
 which I myself do not even suspect — a secret the 
 knowledge of which would wring tears from my 
 eyes and harrow all my feelings. And that secret, 
 Mr. Croft, I am convinced that it is known to 
 you ! Ob, tell me what it is, dreadful though it 
 may be! — for even to know the worst is better 
 than this intolerable suspense. You see the diffi- 
 culties in which I am placed. I must tell all the 
 truth to Juliet and her parents: but if on the 
 other hand you have the claims of kinship upon 
 me— Oh, they should not be asserted in vain ! 
 Speak therefore, Mr. Croft — speak, I implore you 
 — and let these mjsteries be cleared up !" 
 
 A powerful conflict was evidently taking place 
 in the mind of Mr. Croft, as I could tell by the 
 workings of his countenance and the quivering of 
 his lips. I waited in breathless suspense for his 
 decision. There was within me the strong pre- 
 sentiment that if he did speak out, it would be to 
 make some revelation of a truly startling cha- 
 racter. 
 
 " Will you sit down again," he at length said, 
 " and listen to me while I talk of myself." 
 
 I obeyed him : he resumed his own seat : but 
 even then he appeared irresolute whether to pro- 
 ceed. He started up— he went to the door— ha 
 opened it and looked out upon the landing and the 
 stairs, to see if any one was listening. He re- 
 turned to his seat ; and then fixing his gaze in- 
 tently upon me, he said, " Eemember, it is at your 
 own special request that I am about to speak !" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" I ejaculated, with all the nervous 
 suspense of one who stands upon the threshold of 
 an important revelation. 
 
 "Perhaps it may be as well to inform you, 
 Ellen," he began, '• that I was born a gentleman : 
 for I have been so ko'c'sed about in the world that 
 all the gloss of gentility has been rubbed ofif me— 
 and I know very v. ell ibac there are times when it 
 may even appear :■■ if I and good breeding had 
 never been acquainted. However, I was born a 
 gentleman, and was educated for a gentleman's 
 profession : namely, the Church. I became a 
 clergyman — Ah ! start not as if with the wild 
 hope that it may all yet be well with your friend 
 Juliet : for I am a clergyman no longer ! When 
 I was young I was accounted good-looking; and 
 at least so thought a beautiful creature of whom I 
 became enamoured, and who loved me in return as 
 tenderly and as well. I married her. I had a 
 noble patron in the Earl of Carshalton^— " 
 " Lord Frederick's father !" I ejaculated. 
 " The same," responded Mr. Croft. " And you 
 will presently learn what has placed me so com- 
 pletely in the power of his villanous son, the 
 seducer of your friend Juliet. I married, I say : 
 but at College I had contracted dissipated habits, 
 which I however had the art to veil to a con- 
 siderable extent. Marriage did not altogether re- 
 form me : for, though I became steady in some re- 
 spects, jet in others I continued the reverse. I 
 think this is human nature ; for as no one becomes 
 wicked of a sudden, so is it equally impossiblo to 
 reform all in a moment. Towards my wife I was 
 constant, faithful, and affectionate : I adored her. 
 The Earl of Carshalton had given me a small 
 living; it was in a northern county, no matter 
 which. Amongst the vices that remained to me, 
 was that of gambling. I do not mean gambling
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THU MEMOIEB OF AN ACIKES3, 
 
 123 
 
 by cords or dice ; for these pursuits would have 
 taken me away from my wife — and I never neg- 
 lected her. But I gambled by betting on horse- 
 races and pursuits of that sort, though I never 
 attended them. For this species of gaming I had 
 a mania and an infatuation, — a mania for the thing 
 itself— an infatuation in the belief that fortune 
 must soon be favourable to me and that I must 
 inevitably win large sums of money. Ab, cursed 
 mania— fatal infatuation — which blasted my hap- 
 piness and made me what I am !" 
 
 He paused, smote his hand against his brow, and 
 gasped convulsively. There was true remorse 
 there; and forgetting for the instant his conduct 
 towards Juliet, I deeply pitied him. In a few mo- 
 ments he continued. 
 
 " Instead of proving favourable to me, fortune 
 
 —which for some little while had been neither 
 
 hurting nor helping me, but leaving my winnings 
 
 and losings pretty equally balanced — took a sudden 
 
 No. 17.— Ellen Peecy. 
 
 turn and set in dead against me. I lost Gvd 
 hundred pounds to a man who insisted upon prompt 
 payment. I had not the sum : the value of my 
 incumbency was but three hundred a year. Eiiia 
 was staring me in the face : for that man to breathe 
 the secret would be fatal to me ! I was reduced 
 to desperation. And now I come to the crime 
 which I committed. In an evil moment — when 
 Satan put a pen in my hand and paper before me, 
 and guided my arm — I committed a forgery. It 
 was the name of my patron I forged — the Earl of 
 Carshalton's. I wrote his name on a bill, which I 
 drew so that it might have several weeks to run ; 
 for I had bets upon my book, which in my wretched 
 infatuation I was convinced could not fail to turn 
 me in thousands. I borrowed the amount of a 
 money-lender, with whom I deposited the bill, 
 begging him to keep the affair secret and to retain 
 the document in his desk until it should arrive at 
 maturity : for as a pretext, I declared that my
 
 130 
 
 ELIiEK PEECT; OB, THE ilEMOIES OP AN ACTKESS. 
 
 friend the Earl, having just purchased a new estate, 
 had parted with all his available funds, and had 
 therefore assisted me with his acceptance— but that 
 he of course did not wish the bill to be put into 
 circulation. Fortune still continued unfavourable : 
 I could not meet the bill as its date approached ; 
 and desperate with my horrified feelings, I con- 
 fessed the truth to the money-lender, offering to 
 set apart half my annual income for the liquidation 
 of the amount. But he was inexorable ; and the 
 result was that I found myself plunged into a felon's 
 gaol. Oh, my God ! the agony of that moment 
 when the massive door closed behind me !" 
 
 The unhappy man shuddered visibly at the recol- 
 lection; and thrusting both his hands into his hair, 
 he seemed as if he could tear it out by the roots. 
 A scream nearly pealed forth from my lips as I 
 fancied that he was going mad. He removed his [ 
 hands ; and recovering his self-possession, if not [ 
 his composure, he continued in the following | 
 strain: — 
 
 " Yes— that was a dreadful moment : but there [ 
 was a moment in reserve more dreadful still ! It ' 
 was when, after having been tried and condemned ' 
 to transportation for Ufe, I sat in my prison-cell, : 
 with my fond and faithful wife, who resolved to 
 accompany me to the land of my exile. But why \ 
 was that moment so heartrending ? It was be- • 
 cause our child was to be left behind us to the care 
 of its grandfather; and we were weeping and 
 Bobbing over that beloved daughter !" , 
 
 A terrible scream burst from my lips; and I fell } 
 down senseless upon the carpet. 
 
 As I slowly came back to consciousness, 1 was 
 reclining in tbe chair to which my father had lifted 
 me : my bonnet and scarf were on the floor ; and 
 water had moistened my hair and was trickling 
 down my cheeks. 
 
 "Ah, now you know it, Ellen !" exclaimed my 
 father: "now you know tho hideous, horrible , 
 secret ! — and you will curse me! Yes — you will : 
 
 curse the author of your being " 
 
 " 'No, father — no !" I wildly exclaimed : " never !" 
 — and I was precipitating myself towards him to 
 fall into his arms; but he peremptorily motioned 
 me back. ; 
 
 " No, Ellen— it must not be so !" he said. " I ' 
 am a man whom the law has smitten — whom jus- 
 tice has branded— a man with a fearful stigma upon i 
 his name — a convict — a felon ! And you, child, 
 are pure and virtuous as when I held you in my \ 
 arms within the walls of that prison " 1 
 
 " Ob, father !" I exclaimed, " the scene has ; 
 dimly haunted me ever since ; and it was thus 
 that the moment you began to depict it, I com- 
 prehended it all — I knew its reality ! But tell me 
 —my poor mother ?" I 
 
 My father gave me a look which answered the 
 query : my mother was no more. \ 
 
 " Oh you wept over me in my childhood," I ' 
 exclaimed : " you wept over me in the anguish of 
 separation — and therefore you must have loved 
 me ! No matter what you have been— no matter 
 what you are — it is my duty to love you in return . 
 for that love which you bestowed upon me!" | 
 
 Again I flew towards my father : this time his 
 iirnis were open to receive me; and 1 wept long 
 upon his breast. I sat down again : it all appeared 
 tu me a dream ! 
 
 " Let me tell you the remainder of my story," i 
 
 said my father : " it will be a relief to my mind 
 when it is finished: for though bitter and bitter 
 has been my punishment in every respect, yet 
 this is again a bitter moment, in which I, as a 
 parent, have to look my own daughter in the face 
 and tell her of my burning shame — my branding 
 infamy !" 
 
 " Say not another word upon the subject !" I 
 passionately cried. "Ob, you must not afflict 
 yourself thus!" 
 
 " Yes — the tale shall be told !" answered my 
 father : "you already know nearly the whole. You 
 were sickly in your childhood, Ellen; and it would 
 have been death to take you on that long and fear- 
 fu, voyage. Besides, to bring you up with tho 
 knov. 'edge that you were a convict's daughter, was 
 a thouj'ht that horrified me. I preferred the bit- 
 ter alternative of tearing myself away from you 
 altogether. Your grandfather offered to take care 
 of you. I knew that he was mean and a miser : 
 but still I thought that he would do his duty fully 
 and completely towards his poor little grandchild. 
 Your mother coincided with all the reasons which 
 induced us to separate from you — though she her- 
 self felt, as I did, that it was almost death to 
 abandon our offspring. Nevertheless it was done. 
 I went to the penal colony : V' ur mother pro- 
 ceeded thither in another ship, which sailed pre- 
 cisely at the same time. But she did not survive 
 long after her arrival at Sidney. To behold her 
 husband workins; in chains ■" 
 
 " Ob, enough ! enough, father !" I exclaimed, 
 horrified at the words which had just come from 
 his lips. 
 
 "Well, Ellen, we will not dwell upon that 
 shade of a picture that is all so darkly terrible ! 
 Your poor mother died ; and thousands of miles 
 across the seas she lies in an obscure and nameless 
 grave Her loss at first maddened me ; fir it was 
 my criminality that had as good as murdered her 
 who had naturally in her the vigorous health 
 giving promise of a long life. When I recovered 
 from that species of delirium of tho brain, a great 
 change took place within me. I grew sullen and 
 morose : I studied even to embrute myself, so that 
 in a callousness of this sort I might lose the sense 
 of my poignant recollections. In process of time 
 I escaped " 
 
 "You escaped, father?" I said shudderingly. 
 '•' Then— then— you were not pardoned?" 
 
 " No— I am still a convict and a felon, Ellen — 
 as I told you ere now. But listen, and let me 
 make an end of this narrative. I escaped, I say : 
 I made my way to England, working my passage 
 as a common sailor; and you know in what state 
 of poverty I arrived at Leeds— for you saw me ! 
 For an instant I was inclined to snatch you in my 
 arms, and cover you with kisses : but I dared not; 
 for I could not claim you as my own child — I could 
 not take you away from your home and make you 
 cling to misery. Therefore at the very instant 
 when my heart's yearnings prompted me to fold 
 you in my embrace, I called up to my aid that 
 brutality of feeling which I had adopted as it were 
 my second nature. Your grandfather sent you 
 from the room ; and he gave me some money on 
 condition that I would never come near him 
 again. He vowed that if I attempted to take 
 you away from him, he would surrender me up 
 to justice; for that he would rather even have you
 
 ELLEJf PEKCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 131 
 
 to know that you were a felon's child than lose 
 jou from his care. I went away. I did not seek 
 my sister Mrs. Wakefield ; for I learnt by inquiry 
 that she was poor; and moreover I had shame 
 sufilcient to make me dread the thought of look- 
 ing her in the face. Two years after my visit to 
 Leeds, I was so pressed by dire poverty that 1 
 dragged myself thither again. I learnt that your 
 grandfather lay dangerously ill ; and from a con- 
 versation which I overheard at a public-house in 
 the immediate rfeighbourhood of Mr. Forsyth's 
 abode I ascertained that the old harridan Mrs. 
 Parks exercised the utmost influence over him. I 
 knew that she was acquainted with my fearful 
 secret : I dared not therefore show myself at the 
 house ; for I felt assured that in order to get me 
 out of the way, she would not hesitate to surrender 
 me up into the hands of justice. But still I was 
 anxious to obtain some insight into what was 
 going on within those walls where a rich old miser 
 lay at the mercy of an unscrupulous woman, and 
 where your fate, Ellen, seemed about to be decided, 
 whether you should become a wealthy heiress, or 
 be left in dependence upon ona who could have no 
 possible regard for you." 
 
 " Oh, the horrors of that night !" I murmured, 
 as all the particulars of the death scene rose vividly 
 up into my memory. " Father, I was listening — 
 I beheld your countenance at the window " 
 
 " Ah ! you saw me ?" exclaimed Mr. Croft— for 
 by this name I must continue to speak of my 
 father. " And the poor old man saw me likewise ! 
 He had just been pointing to the escritoire— and 
 he then pointed towards me. But tell me, Ellen 
 —tell me, what did you hear on that memorable 
 night ?" 
 
 " Dreadful words were those that I heard," I 
 responded: "they are indelibly fixed upon my 
 memory I" 
 
 " Yes— and I also heard dreadful words," con' 
 tinued my father. " I heard the old man adjure 
 Mrs. Parks to fulfil all his injunctions. Inspired 
 by an awful energy — couched in terrible terms — 
 Were the injunctions that he thus gave. But tell 
 me, Ellen — how much did you hear ?" 
 
 With a shuddering sensation I repeated all 
 that I had overheard at the time : word for word, 
 and syllable for syllable, did I detail as much as 
 had reached my ears of the discourse between my 
 dying grandsire and his housekeeper, — as the 
 reader has already found that discourse recorded 
 in the second chapter of my narrative. 
 
 " You see, father," I added, " what an impres- 
 sion those words made upon my mind : for the event 
 took place exactly six years ago, when I was only 
 twelve and a half." 
 
 " Ah ! but I heard something more than you, 
 my child," responded Mr. Croft. " I was listening 
 at the window before you could have been listening 
 at the door : I heard your grandfather speak of 
 his will— that document which he subsequently 
 pointed out to Mrs. Parks as being concealed in 
 the escritoire ; and though I could catch but 
 broken sentences, yet sufficient reached my ears to 
 prove to me that he had left you his heiress." 
 
 " Good heavens ! is this possible ?" I exclaimed, 
 appalled at the stupendous wickedness of which, 
 as 1 now comprehended, Mrs. Parks had been 
 guilty; while my thoughts naturally associated 
 her son as an accomplice in the crime. 
 
 "Yes, Ellen," continued my father; "you have 
 been thus cruelly defrauded — and I have been 
 powerless to help you. Know you that death is 
 the penalty of the last offence which I committed ? 
 — I mean my escape from bondage in the penal 
 settlement : and though that awful extreme might 
 not be carried out, yet the lesser alternative were 
 in itself most horrible. To be sent to Norfolk 
 
 Island " 
 
 " For God's sake, father, dwell not upon these 
 things !" I in agony and anguish exclaimed. " You 
 have told me enough to prove that you could not 
 
 help me " 
 
 " No— I was in the power of that vile woman 
 and her infamous son," answered my father. 
 " Shortly after Mr. Forsyth's funeral, Mrs. Parks 
 took you up to London. I have already told you 
 that I was suffering the direst poverty — the most 
 
 utter destitution " 
 
 " Alas, poor father 1" I murmured, almost suffo- 
 cated with grief. 
 
 " In desperation I paid a visit to Mrs. Parks, At 
 her lodgings in London " 
 
 " I knew it, father. I heard your voice as you 
 bade them farewell. Mrs. Parks and her son an- 
 swered you " 
 
 " They gave me money," continued Mr. Croft ; 
 "and with mingled insolence and significancy 
 they bade me come near them no more. Though 
 almost completely callous to everything in this life 
 — and though studying to embrute myself as much 
 as possible — yet I was not utterly indifferent to 
 ^our welfare. I did not on that occasion speak 
 out plainly : but still I said enough to convince 
 MIrs. Parks and her son that I knew they had de- 
 frauded you. Mrs. Parks assured me that she 
 would rear you well, and that she had already 
 made arrangements to afford you an excellent edu- 
 cation. I was compelled to be satisfied ; and I 
 went away. Seeking some seclusion, I dwelt 
 quietly for about three years and a half, when I 
 learnt that Mrs. Parks was no more. I repaired 
 to London — I saw her son : he told me that you 
 had gone to live with my sister Mrs. Wakefield. 
 I myself was again plunged into the direst poverty : 
 and I was base enough again to become the reci- 
 pient of pecuniary succour from the hands of the 
 villain who was perpetuating his mother's fraud 
 I towards you. Then another interval passed — an 
 interval of about two years ; and this brings me 
 I down to a date of only a few months back. Again 
 I was I reduced to destitution : again was I com- 
 j pelled to seek the assistance of the villain Parks. 
 i I then learnt to my astonishment that the Misa 
 i Trafford who had recently appeared with such tri- 
 j umphant success upon the dramatic stage, was 
 ! none other than yourself. Ellen, perhaps you can 
 ' believe me when I give you the assurance that on 
 receiving this announcement my heart melted 
 within me — my soul dissolved with indescribable 
 i emotions ; and, Ob, my God ! I wept in bitterness 
 : at the thought that I dared not claim you as my 
 ! daughter. But then more than ever was it impe- 
 I riously necessary to keep the stupendous secret. 
 j You were earning a brilliant renown for yourself; 
 and it was not lor me to cast a blight upon the 
 feelings of your young heart by revealing to you 
 those hideous secrets which you have learnt to-day ! 
 I Parks assured me that you were as good as you 
 were talented, and that your character was un-
 
 133 
 
 EILEN PEBCT; OE, TUB MEJIOIS8 OV XTS ACTKESS. 
 
 blemished as your fame was great. I did not ask 'justice: and if I fled without succouring hiua in 
 where you lived : I sought not to know : I dared bis aims, he would cause a hue and cry to be raised 
 not trust myself: I was afraid lest in a moment of , after me. These were his menaces ! — and I was 
 madness — of delirious parental pride — I might compelled to submit. Oh, it is dreadful for me as 
 obey the promptings of my heart and rush to your a father to be forced to make all these atowals to 
 dwelling that I might seek your presence. Parks ' you as my daughter !" 
 
 oflfered to allow me a small quarterly stipend if I " Then why dwell upon the subject ?" I asked, 
 would go into some seclusion and trouble him no in anguish of mind. 
 
 more with my visits. I readily assented. But! " Because you roust know everything," was my 
 before I left London on that occasion, I resolved to i sire's reply. " I will now give you a proof of the 
 see you upon the stage. I fulfilled my desire. At | devilish aptitude for mischief which characterizes 
 the remotest point from the lustre of the foot- j that young nobleman whose look is so ingenuous, 
 lights — amidst the crowd at the entrance of the whose language is so specious, whose voice is so 
 
 pit — I took my stand. Ah ! I cannot describe the 
 
 feelings with which I beheld you No, no— it is 
 
 impossible !" — and now my father sobbed audibly. 
 
 " And I the while," I murmured, deeply affected, 
 " was ignorant in the presence of whom I was 
 thus displaying the little talent which heaven has 
 given me !" 
 
 " Let me hasten to make an end of this narra- 
 tive," said my sire, abruptly. " On the following 
 day, when I was about to leave London," he con- 
 tinued, " my evil star threw me in the way of the 
 Earl of Carshalton. Long years had elapsed 
 since last we met : but the recognition was imme- 
 diate and mutual. The terror which seized upon 
 me — ' my speechless confusion— my trembling 
 frame, betrayed the truth : I dared not deny my 
 identity. His lordship was leaning upon the arm 
 
 soft, and whose manners are so fascinating. All 
 the details of his project were arranged and com- 
 bined with the utmost carefulness ; and every pos- 
 sible difEculty was weighed, foreseen, and pro- 
 vided against. His father possesses an estate at 
 no great distance hence : Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 clififo therefore knew Embledon — he knew likewise 
 that the minister's name is Croft. I was to per- 
 sonate this Mr, Croft, so that if Mr. Norman 
 should perchance refer to the Clergy List he would 
 arrive at the conclusion that all was fair and 
 straightforward and everything was being con- 
 ducted with honour. Such were the arrangements ; 
 and again I repeat I was compelled to submit. 
 Lord Frederick told me that a young lady who was 
 residing with the Normans', would act as bride- 
 maid : but he did not happen to mention the name. 
 
 of an elegant and handsome young man, whom a ! From his father's lips he had learnt that my real 
 
 certain family resemblance indicated to be his son, 
 The Earl addressed me coldly and distantly : but 
 he gave me to understand that my secret was safe 
 wkh him. I poured forth the expressions of my 
 gratitude— and hurried away. That encounter had 
 given me such a shock that I felt exceedingly ill : 
 I returned to my humble lodgings ; and for the 
 
 name was Percy: but it evidently did not for a 
 moment strike him that there could be any 
 possible connexion between yourself and me. Con- 
 ceive, therefore, my surprise, Ellen — my conster- 
 nation and dismay — when I beheld i/ou enter the 
 room where the mock marriage was to take place ! 
 Yet all my feelings I succeeded in veiling. I 
 
 next two or three days kept my bed. When again i saw how you contemplated me: I understotd 
 
 able to leave the room, I determined to lose no 
 time in quitting London. Again my evil star was 
 working mischief against me : I fell in with that 
 handsome young man on whose arm I had seen 
 the Earl of Carshalton leaning ; and he stopped 
 me. I saw that my presence had inspired him 
 with some idea : but he quickly gave me to under- 
 stand that though he had learnt from his father's 
 lips all the particulars of my secret, he did not in- 
 tend to injure me. At the same time he signified 
 that bis forbearance depended upon my readiness 
 to do him a service. He made an appointment to 
 meet me again in a few days ; and I dared notdis* 
 obey his injunctions. "VVo met on several occa- 
 sions ; and he unveiled his plans. Then I disco- 
 vered that the beautifully handsome form of Lord 
 Frederick Kavenscliffe contained the heart of a 
 fiend. He told me how he was deeply enamoured 
 of a beautiful girl who was too virtuous to become 
 his mistress, but who was in a position of life 
 which rendered it utterly impossible that he should 
 honourably espouse her. He told me likewise 
 how, by means of a talc as well-contrived as it was 
 false, he had induced this girl's parents to agree to 
 a marriage between their daughter and himself, to 
 be solemnized under circumstances of the strictest 
 privacy. Now you begin to comprehend, Ellen, 
 how that young villain was weaving his meshes 
 around myself. I was completely in his powei 
 
 wherefore: I knew that the recollection of my 
 image as you had seen me at your grandfather's 
 house, must be hovering in your mind. When 
 the proceeding was accomplished, I left the houre 
 with the least possible delay. But in obedience to 
 the previously given instructions of Lord Frederick, 
 I came to Embledon ; and here, still retaining the 
 name of Mr. Croft, I fixed my abode. The object 
 of such a proceeding may be easily understood. 
 No marriage certificate was given at the time of 
 the mock ceremony ; and I was to be here in 
 readiness to answer any letter that Lord Frederick 
 himself might sooner or later be compelled to write 
 to me. When, after your poor aunt's death, you 
 visited Embledon, you saw how careful I was to 
 prevent you from prosecuting any inquiries which 
 might lo9d to discovery and exposure in respect to 
 the foul fraud that had been committed ; and you 
 saw likewise how I did my best to precipitate your 
 departure. I will not speak of the feeling which 
 I experienced during that interview with you, my 
 own daughter " 
 
 " No, no, father !" I exclaimed : " dwell not 
 upon details that must be painful to you! But 
 tell me— has not Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe writ- 
 ten to you " 
 
 " Yes," answered my parent : " a few days ago 
 he wrote, acquainting me with the importunities 
 01 her whom he had deceived, and of her continued 
 
 If I refused my assent to the diabolical plan which I entreaties that he would procure the certificate, 
 he proposed, he would give me into the bands of But I did not answer his letter. I reflected that
 
 after all 1 bad now ceased to be in bis power — or 
 at least tbat be dared not betray me, for fear lest 
 I should turn round and accuse bim of an offence 
 which carries the severest penalties. You say that 
 he has produced a certiCcate P" 
 
 "It is here!" I answered: and I showed the 
 document to my father. 
 
 " It is Lord Frederick's own handwriting, most 
 craftily disguised," he rejoined. "Eeceiving no 
 answer to my letter, he may have fancied that I 
 Lad left Embledon; or he may have suspected the 
 truth, and have seen by my silence tbat I was re- 
 solved to commit myself no further in his iniqui- 
 tous proceedings. Therefore has he evidently 
 lorged that certificate to appease and satisfy the 
 mind of Juliet for the present. As for the future, 
 he doubtless trusts to the chapter of accidents to 
 relieve him from the entanglement in which his 
 villany has placed bim. Perhaps he thinks that 
 when discovery takes place sooner or later— or 
 when becoming tired of his victim, he means ruth- 
 lessly to abandon her — the secret will be hushed 
 up for the sake of her character and reputation P 
 But he is one of those young men who are pre- 
 cociously bold in the perpetration of villany, as 
 well as astute in the combination of its details : he 
 has confidence in his own resources of iniquity ; 
 and he cares but little for the future, so long as he 
 obtains a present means of gratifying his passions. 
 Now, Ellen, I have told you everything: but I 
 should not have revealed all these things to you 
 to-day were it not tor the most urgent reasons. 
 In the first place, if ever the hand of justice shall 
 be again laid upon me, I would not have my 
 daughter, unconscious of her own parentage, be 
 the one to surrender me up ; and in the second 
 place, after all you had told me of the threats held 
 out by the villain Parks, I made up my mind that 
 it was better you should hear the statement of by- 
 gone events from my lips, than perhaps receive a 
 garbled history from his own." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 POOH JULIET. 
 
 There was an interval of silence — during which 
 both my father and myself reflected profoundly, 
 and painfully likewise. At length he said, " 
 Ellen ! this is a miserable, miserable day for 
 you !" 
 
 " It is miserable for me to know that I possess 
 a father who is unhappy," I replied, inwardly con- 
 vulsed with sobs, and the tears trickling down my 
 cheeks. " What can I do for you ? Can we not 
 henceforth live together?" 
 
 '•' Ellen, it is impossible !" he exclaimed. " You 
 would blush for your sire; and I could not beai- to 
 look you constantly in the face and to know how 
 utterly unworthy I am of your filial love ! No, no 
 —my mind is now made up how to act ! If since 
 my escape from the penal colony, I have hitherto 
 remained in England, it has doubtless been be- 
 cause my heart has felt a yearning to be upon the 
 same soil and breathe the same atmosphere with 
 yourself, Ellen : but now that all is known, and 
 that there are no secrets between us, I will con- 
 sult my safety — perhaps more for your sake than 
 
 my own. I will proceed to France. Haply I may 
 be enabled to earn my livelihood : but if not, I 
 know that my daughter from her own wealth will 
 spare her father a pittance." 
 
 " All, all shall be your's 1" I vehemently ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Not so, Ellen," rejoined my father. "Rest 
 assured that from this moment I am au altered 
 man. Not for worlds would I deprive you of that 
 which, thank heaven ! by your brilliant talents you 
 are (earning. At the same time, as I can never 
 more receive one shilling from the baud of the vil- 
 lain Parks, I shall accept from my daughter a 
 sufficiency to give me bread. Yes, Ellen — we 
 shall presently separate, to meet no more. Do 
 not attempt to divert me from my purpose. Re- 
 member, it is my safety which I am consulting, 
 and which I am about to ensure ! No more, 
 therefore, upon that subject!— In reference to the 
 one which has brought you to Embledon, you 
 must use your own discretion. This will be taxed 
 to the very utmost ; and I dare not conjecture 
 what the issue will be." 
 
 " Trouble not yourself on that point, my dear 
 father," I answered : " the task is indeed a diiTi- 
 cult one ; for poor Juliet must know the truth 
 
 tbat she is not a wedded wife However," I 
 
 suddenly checked myself, being anxious to avoid 
 afflicting my father's mind, " I have no doubt that 
 everything may be made to progress without ex- 
 posure. When will you leave Embledon? Oh! 
 come with me, dear father " 
 
 " No, Ellen," interrupted Mr. Croft resolutely, 
 but not harshly : " the moment for separation miist 
 come; — why therefore postpone it? Take your 
 departure ! Within an hour I likewise shall 
 leave. Come, Ellen — one last embrace — and 
 then " 
 
 I threw myself into my sire's arms; and for 
 some minutes he strained me to bis breast. I 
 wept plenteously — I sobbed convulsively. For- 
 gotten were all his misdeeds : I only recollected 
 that I had found a father— that he was uuhappy— 
 and that I was about to leave him. I know not 
 how I at length tore myself away— or rather how 
 I suffered him to compel me to depart. But I at 
 length recollected the absolute necessity of re- 
 straining my feelings, when the door of his room 
 had closed behind me and 1 was descending the 
 stairs. On issuing from the house, I did not im- 
 mediately return to the little inn: I struck into a 
 neighbouring field ; and there I sat upon the step 
 of a stile, reflecting upon all that I had heard, 
 and again giving free vent to my tears. At length 
 I repaired to the public-house, and ordered tho 
 post-chaise to be gotten in readiness; for I bad 
 retained the equipage there. My journey was 
 speedily resumed; and. it was about one in tha 
 afternoon when I thus quitted Embledon. 
 
 For some time I lay back in the vehicle, think- 
 ing of all the mysteries that within the few last 
 hours had been cleared up to my knowledge; and 
 thinking likewise with equal painfulness of the ter- 
 rible blow which on my return to London I should 
 be compelled to deal at the heart of my unhappy 
 friend Juliet. I aroused myself from these medi- 
 tations as I approached the cottage occupied by 
 the old gipsy and her grand-daughter; and I won- 
 dered how St. Clair had acted when on the pre- 
 ceding night he discovered my escape. The equi-
 
 131 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEE3S. 
 
 page rolled past ; and I could discern no one at 
 the windows. Tlie cottage was soon out of sight: 
 but as the chaise turned a bend in the road, I be- 
 held Zarah leaning against a gate opening into a 
 field. She did not appear to bo taking any notice 
 of the advancing equipage. I endeavoured to catch 
 her eyes, to throw upon her a look expressive of 
 gratitude for her behaviour of the previous even- 
 ing : but the idea struck me that she was either 
 absorbed in the profoundest reflection, or else that 
 she was obstinately bent upon not seeing me. • All 
 of a sudden, just as the chaise seemed to be shoot- 
 ing completely past her, she advanced rapidly to- 
 wards it — threw something in at the window — and 
 the next instant was lost to my view. 
 
 Wondering what this strange proceeding could 
 mean, I hastily picked up the object she had 
 thrown into the chaise ; and I found it to be a 
 small sealed billet. I opened it. The writing was 
 in a bold masculine hand ; the spoiling was not 
 altogether correct : but I give the contents of the 
 note without preserving those orthographical 
 errors : — 
 
 " Remember, Miss Percy, the promise you made 
 me last night, that you will not give publicity to 
 anything that directly or indirectly concerns my 
 grandmother or myself. Beware of Edwin St. 
 Clair 1 He was furious when he found that you 
 bad escaped : but he did not suspect my compli- 
 city. Keep incessantly upon your guard ; and do 
 not think of attending to any strange or suspicious 
 request to visit any unknown place, or keep any 
 appointment which under the most plausible pre- 
 text may be given you. But if despite of all your 
 '< caution, treachery should prevail— if you should 
 i again find yourself in the power of Edwin St. 
 Clair — use these words: — ' Se who smells the 
 white rose, sleeps the sleep of death !' — I con- 
 jure you. Miss Percy, not to reveal the source 
 from which you obtained these cabalistic words. 
 If I had not faith in your honour, I would not 
 entrust you to this extent. 
 
 " Zaeah." 
 
 How often and how often were fresh mysteries 
 to arise in respect to Edwin St. Clair ! But the 
 present one seemed only to be an expansion of that 
 which originated with Lady Lilla Essendine. The 
 new one had the semblance of being a sequence 
 and a corollary to the former. Lilla had bidden me 
 present a flower to Edwin St. Clair, should a cer- 
 tain emergency arise; and it was to be accom- 
 panied by the demand, "Do you recognise this 
 symbol?" What the flower then symbolized was 
 utterly beyond conjecture : but Zarah's note seemed 
 to give a fearful meaning and significance to that 
 symbol. Was the question which, in obedience to 
 Lady Lilla's hint I had put to St. Clair, now an- 
 swered by those sinister words prompted by Zarah, 
 "He who smells the white rose sleeps the sleep 
 of death !" 
 
 Strange and fearful being, St. Clair!— what 
 stupendous mysteries surrounded him ! I shud- 
 dered to give scope to conjecture : I contemplated 
 his image as that of a man who was too profoundly 
 enshrouded in such dark mysteries to be otherwise 
 than criminal in soma sense or another. But on 
 the other hand, sincere was my gratitude towards 
 Zarah for having put me in possession of a talis- 
 
 man of protection against the designs of one who 
 was evidently bent upon persecuting me to the 
 very extreme. 
 
 Ah ! a sudden thought struck me. Was not 
 Lady Lilla Essendine summoned into the old 
 gipsy's presence through the medium of a white 
 rose ? — and again methought that the same sym- 
 bol which had its weight with Edwin St. Clair, 
 bad an equal influence with her ladyship, al- 
 though it was at her own suggestion that I had 
 used that symbol towards St. Clair. But now, 
 after the billet I had received from Zarah, whatso- 
 ever sinister significancy attached itself to that 
 floral symbol in reference to St. Clair, seemed by 
 irresistible associations to be reflected towards 
 Lady Lilla Essendine also ; and it was with a 
 shuddering paroxysm that I said to myself, " As- 
 suredly there is something wrong — something 
 darkly suspicious, relative to the one as well as to 
 the other." 
 
 I arrived at Birmingham; and thence I at once 
 took the train for London, It was seven o'clock in 
 the evening when the cab which conveyed me from 
 Euston Square Station, reached the theatre. The 
 reader may be surprised thus to perceive that I in- 
 tended to make ray appearance on the stage ou this 
 particular evening — particularly after all the 
 fatigues I had gone through, and all the anxiety of 
 mind I had experienced. But I felt that I was 
 bound to keep faith, to the utmost of my ability, 
 with the manager and the public : I felt likewise 
 that my unexplained absence might give encou- 
 ragement to the surmises and whispers of scandal; 
 and I was resolved to do naught that should in any 
 way imperil my good name. I knew that Juliet 
 would make all requisite arrangements so that I 
 should find whatsoever I required in my dressing- 
 room at the theatre ; for I had given her to un- 
 derstand, previous to my departure, that it was 
 quite possible I should not arrive at the theatre 
 until the latest moment. 
 
 Juliet did not come to me in my dressing-room ; 
 for since her supposed marriage with Lord Fre- 
 derick Eavensclifi'e, she had not once set foot be- 
 hind the scenes. Mrs. I^orman came to me on 
 hearing that I had arrived ; and I saw that the 
 worthy creature fully believed that I had merely 
 been on a visit to Lady Lilla Essendine. She 
 was not however in good spirits ; and she told 
 me that Juliet had been very much indisposed all 
 day long — that she had kept her own chamber — 
 that she could not even see Lord Frederick when 
 he called— but that by a strange inconsistency (as 
 Mrs. Norman represented it) she wanted to come 
 to the theatre in the evening. Her mother had 
 however succegded in dissuading her. I had the 
 greatest difficulty in keeping my countenance nid 
 concealing my painful emotions, while the unsus- 
 pecting Mrs. Norman was giving me these expla- 
 nations; and. Oh! how cruel a pang shot through 
 my heart, as mentally apostrophizing my kind 
 friend, I thought to myself, " Perhaps to-morrow 
 you will know all the horrible truth in reference to 
 your daughter and the villain who has ruined 
 her !" 
 
 I entertained serious fears lest I should be un- 
 able to do justice to the part which I had to per- 
 form : but when once upon' the stage, I was in- 
 spired with that dramatic spirit which now seemed 
 to have interwoven itself with my entire being ;
 
 and I could judge by the amount of applause 
 which I received, that I was ia no way inferior 
 to my antecedent personifications of tho same cha- 
 racter. 
 
 The performance was over : I was seated with 
 Mr. and Airs. Norman in tho carriage, returning 
 to Hunter Street. I was about to enter upon a 
 task which I dreaded— Oh ! dreaded with the 
 deepest and direst apprehension. I knevr that 
 within a brief space I must tell Juliet everything 
 that so vitally concerned her : I knew that she 
 would not seek her couch before the terrific sus- 
 pense that she must have endured and that had 
 rendered her indisposed, was fully cleared up. 
 Yet, as I was ignorant of the course she might 
 decide upon pursuing, I did not deem it expedient 
 to break the frightful truth to her father and 
 mother in the first instance : I therefore endea- 
 voured to converse in my wonted cheerful mood 
 
 seemed to notice how the tears were raining down 
 my cheeks : she gazed upon me with that half- 
 stupified, despairing look of her's that seemed to 
 denote a veritable palsy of tho brain. 
 
 " For Grod's sake, do not gaze upon me thus, 
 dearest Juliet !" I said, throwing my arms round 
 her neck. " Ob, better far to behold you give 
 way to the most passionate lamentations, than to 
 see you look so desolate and forlorn !" 
 
 " Ellen," she answered, as I sat down by her 
 side— and her voice was so low and plaintive it 
 well nigh caused all the bitterness of my affliction 
 to burst forth anew, — " I have been smitten a 
 blow which I can never recover : I have received 
 a shock that is felt in the innermost confines of 
 my being ! Happiness and I have bidden each 
 other farewell for ever ! Utter, utter woe is 
 henceforth my portion !" 
 
 I was on the point of suggesting that there 
 
 with them, while the carriage was conveying us j was yet one hope — the hope that Lord Frederick 
 homeward. It was difficult thus to dissemble — Eavenscliffe might be induced to repair the fearful 
 diflicult indeed to seem gay when the soul was so ' injury he had inflicted: but I held back the words 
 profoundly troubled, for a variety of reasons, as j — I dared not aflford utterance to that hope— for 
 mine then was ! all in an instant to my mind recurred the descrip- 
 
 At length Hunter Street was reached. We re- tion which my father had given of the young 
 paired to the parlour where supper was laid ; and nobleman's unprincipled character. Juliet bowed 
 Juliet was not there. A maid-servant entered and herself forward — her elbows upon her knees — her 
 
 said, " Miss Norman feels too unwell to come 
 down-.ftairs : but she hopes that you, Mis3" — ad- 
 dressing herself to me — " will go and see her as 
 soon as you can." 
 
 "Poor Julie!" said Mrs. Norman. "Come, 
 Ellen : let us go to her fur a few minutes." 
 
 " I feel too tired to sit up to supper," I said; 
 "and I shall speedily seek my own chamber." 
 
 I bade Mr. Norman good night ; and I accom- 
 panied Mrs. Norman up to Juliet's room. Juliet 
 was seated, in deshahillee, in a large easy chair by 
 the fire that was blazing in the grate : but the 
 moment we entered, she started up and threw her- 
 self into my arms. I was resolved not to give 
 her the slightest intimation, either by look, sign, 
 or pressure of the hand, in her mother's presence, 
 of the tremendous truth which I had to impart. 
 I knew very well that suspense the most acute 
 was even preferable to the amount of anguish she 
 would presently have to endure. 
 
 hands supporting her head — her countenance 
 buried in those hands. Thus she sat for some 
 minutes— utterly motionless— not even her bosom 
 palpitating. I would have given the world to be- 
 hold a tear trickle between her fingers: for in 
 weeping there would have been relief for the over- 
 charged heart. But no !— her's was a woe too 
 profound for tears. Not for her was it destined 
 that Hope should yet descend from the celestial 
 sphere, to roll away the stone from the sepulchre 
 of her heart and sit therein as an angel ! 
 
 There was a long silence; and at length Juliet 
 raised her countenance. It was of marble pale- 
 ness : the hue of health which used to be upon the 
 cheeks, had completely vanished ; while the dark- 
 ness of her dishevelled hair threw out that alabas- 
 ter whiteness with even a death-like effect. Her 
 fine eyes, of a blue as deep as that of the violet, 
 fixed themselves upon me with a cold gaze that 
 seemed in perfect keeping with the rigid expres- 
 
 Disengaging herself from my arms, she darted i sion of her features. The colour too had forsaken 
 upon me an inquiring glance : but she gleaned | licr lips, — which being rich and full, now looked 
 nothing from my looks, either good or bad. She all tbe more corpse-like in the absence of their 
 resumed her seat, and could scarcely restrain her i wonted hue. 
 
 impatience while her mother was tenderly ques- 
 tioning her as to how she now felt. She assured 
 Mrs. Norman she was better, and should be quite 
 well in the morning after a good night's rest,^ 
 which declaration she used for the purpose of 
 satisfying her mother and getting her to leave the 
 room as soon as possible. Mrs. Norman at length 
 
 "Tell me all that has occurred, Jlllen," she said, 
 in a voice that was glacial and monotonous. 
 
 "The history is brief, dearest Julie," I answered, 
 — " but sad, very sad ! You are prepared to leara 
 that — that" — and I hesitated in what terms to 
 couch the intimation I wanted to convey. 
 
 " That I am not a wife," she said, speaking as if 
 
 retired ; and scarcely had the door closed behind ! ii a voiJe of ice. " Yes, I am prepared to learn 
 her, when Juliet with feverish eagerness ejacu- \ ^'^'^ immense is my disgrace— how irreparable my 
 
 Jated, " Tell me, Ellen— what is my fate ?" 
 
 "For God's sake compose yourself!" I said, 
 straining her in my arms, and holding her counte- 
 nance tight against my bosom to stifle the cry 
 which I feared might peal forth from her lips. 
 
 But she only ejaculated, "Ah!"— and then she 
 sank dpwn into her chair, with a look so forlorn, so 
 desolate, so woe-begone, that I burst into an agony 
 of weeping. 
 
 But Juliet herself did not weep : she scarcely 
 
 dishonour !— And yet," she ejaculated, a sudden 
 change all in a moment taking place in her entire 
 being— the marble statue expanding into life — the 
 efiigy of ice becoming full of animation as if with 
 Promethean fire,—" he must love me, frightful 
 though his conduct has been ! And if not me, at 
 least he will love his child ! — and he will not suffer 
 it to come into the world branded with dis- 
 grace !" 
 This change fiom glacial despair to the frenzy
 
 123 
 
 rLLEX PEKCT; OS, THE ItEJIOIKS OP AS ACIEESS. 
 
 (H exaltation, 'vras eo abrupt that it frightened me: 
 and I felt that I became deadly pale in my ton;. 
 I knew what she meant, — that RayenselifTe would 
 marrv her : but though I could not find it in mv 
 heart to destroy this hope, I nevertheless dared not 
 encourage it. 
 
 " Tou do not ansirer me, Ellen !" she exclaimed : 
 and the odoar had come back to her lips — and 
 there vaa s hectic flash upon her cheeks — and her 
 eyes wcfe vibrating with feverish light. " Tell me 
 ^t-ell me quickly, for G-od"s sake ! do you know 
 anvthing that can prevent Frederick from doing 
 me that last — that only act of justice ?" 
 
 '• I know nothing to prevent him," I guardedly 
 responded, '■' beyond the deduction which it is im- 
 possible to avoid making from his antecedent con- 
 duct towards you." 
 
 "TesT' exclaimed Juliet, with a certain wild- 
 ness : " bat when I kneel at his feet and implore 
 him for the sake of his yet unborn child — when I 
 tell him that I forgive all the past — and that if he 
 love me no more, he need never see me again 
 when once he shall have given me that title of 
 wife which may enable me to become a mother 
 without shame and to look the world in the face 
 O G-od, he cannot poss'biy refuse me!" 
 
 The fountains of Juliet's feelings were now 
 completely unsealed; and the t.ears gushed out 
 copiouslv. Long and passionately she wept : she 
 was relieved somewhat ; and at length wiping her 
 eyes, she said, " Tell me everything, Ellen I And, 
 Oh : accept my Einoerest^ most heartfelt thanks for 
 the kind, the generoos interest jou have displayed 
 on my behaif !" 
 
 " I repeat, dearest Julie, the history is brief. I 
 
 went to Embledon: I saw — I saw — ilr. Croft 
 
 but be is now no longer there — he has gone^ie 
 Las fled." 
 
 '•But what did he tell you, Ellen?" asked 
 Juliet. " If I recollect right, you informed me 
 
 yesterday that you had seen him before 1 
 
 mean before he lent himself to that dreadfiU per- 
 fidy ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes— I had once seen him — at my grand- 
 father's house at Leeds — when I was a girl— but 
 only for a minute " 
 
 " And yon knew his handwriting ?'' said Juliet. 
 
 '■Yes — I knew that also," I responded, consi- 
 derably agitated. " But believe me, dearest Julie, 
 I knew so little — so very, very little of him, that 
 
 when I saw him on the evening you know to 
 
 which evening I refer 1 was not saxe he 
 
 was the same. And, Oh I if for an instant I had 
 known that he was assuming a sacred character to 
 which he had no right " 
 
 " Good heavens, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet ; 
 " this self- vindication on your part is utterly un- 
 called for. Bat I see that you have nothing more 
 te tell ; and Gjd knows you have told me enough ! 
 Oh, my poor father 1 my poor mother 1 — what will 
 joa both eaj when this frightful truth shall be 
 broken to joa ? — Ellen," she adde 1, quickly, bit- 
 terly, and almost fiercely, " if I did not think that 
 he would yet do me j ustice, I should be driven to 
 de^tair — I should lay violent hands upon myself! 
 Or else — or dse," she continued more slowly, while 
 her ooontenanee became pale again ; " my love 
 would turn to hatred— and I would sacrifice every 
 consideration in order to wreak a deadly vengeance 
 npon him who has dishonoured me 1 ' 
 
 '•' For heaven's sake talk not thus," I said, shud- 
 dering at the bare idea of that exposure in which 
 my own father would become involved. 
 
 " Xo, no— I could not do it I" rejoined Juliet, 
 again bursting into tears. "I must live for the 
 sake of my as yet unborn babe! — and I must 
 not brand its father with dishonour, nor invoke the 
 vengeance of the law to smite him 1 To-morrow, 
 Ellen, I will seek an interview with Frederick 
 — an interview at which you must be present. In 
 the meantime let nothing be known to my parents: 
 their hearts need not be rent prematurely I — Alas, 
 the hour may come all too soon !" 
 
 She stopped short; and again she found relief 
 in tears. Afier a little while she assured me that 
 she was more composed; and she begged me to 
 retire to my own chamber, for that I most stand 
 in need of rest I saw that she was in reality 
 more tranquiUised, though still labouring under 
 the deepest affliction;— and I at last consented to 
 withdraw. Bat twice during the rest of that 
 night did I steal forth from my own chamber, to 
 listen at the door of her's. All was still. Oa the 
 second occasion I peeped in ; and I found that 
 she was buried in a deep slumber : for even the 
 mightiest aSictian, overpowered by its own weight, 
 will sink through exhaustion into repose. 
 
 On leaving my chamber in the morning, I re- 
 paired to Juliet's. 1 found her even more com> 
 posed than I could have anticipated ; for her mind 
 was made up to envisage her position resolutely; 
 and she was no doubt sustained by the h-jpe that 
 L?rd Frederick Bavenscliffe would make her the 
 only reparation that it now lay in his power to 
 afford. As it was his lordship's custom to call at 
 about noon, Juliet decided upon keeping her cham- 
 ber until his arrival; so that there might be the 
 less chanc3 of betraying her feelings to her parents. 
 Mi. and Mrs. Xorman went out togetiier in the 
 carriage at about mid-day ; and Juliet then sought 
 the drawing-room in order to be ready for the re- 
 ception of Lord Frederick. Her parents had not 
 left the house ten minutes when there was a loud 
 double knock at the street doer. For a moment 
 Juliet started and became deadly pale, as if she 
 felt that her entire fate now hung in the balance : 
 but the next moment she said, " It is not Frede- 
 rick's knock." 
 
 The servant entered and handed me a note : the 
 writing of the address was immediately recognised 
 by me ; it was that of the Marquis of Dalrymple. 
 I was on the point of handing it back again and de- 
 clining to open it — when it struck me that such 
 a proceeding would only seem singular to the ser- 
 vant, and necessitate an explanation to Juliet. I 
 accordingly read Vhe billet, the contents of which 
 were as follow :— 
 
 "The Marquis of Dalrymple requests the honour 
 I of an immediate interview with Miss Percy. Miss 
 ( Percy cannot fail to perceive the necessity of 
 j gfranting this interview, when the Marquis of' 
 i Dalrymple informs her that he seeks an explaaa- 
 I tion of the astounding statement made by Miss 
 ! Percy to the Duchess of Ardleigh, to the effect 
 I that the Marquis had been guilty of insulting con- 
 duct, of which he is utterly incapable. Indeed, 
 : the accusation is so serious that the Marquis would 
 j be j ustified in using stronger terms, — only that he 
 ' feels convinced there must be some extraordiaarj
 
 mistake, which iliss Percy will no doubt bo en- 
 abled to explain." 
 
 The reader may suppose that I was inCnitely 
 astonished at the contents of this billet; and I 
 could not possibly refuse the interview that was 
 demanded. Juliet was too much absorbed in her 
 own reflections to pay any attention to me ; and 
 therefore without giving a syllable of explanation 
 to my unhappy friend, 1 descended to the parlour to 
 which the ilarquis of Da'rymplo had been shown. 
 He looked exceedingly pale and agitated ; and 
 as I entered, he bowed with coldness, but not 
 with hauteur. I motioned hita to be seated; 
 and taking a chair, I awaited the opeuing of the 
 discourse. 
 
 " I cannot fancy. Miss Percy," he began by 
 
 saying, "that you wilfully and maliciously in- 
 
 Tented a tale for the purpose of prrjudicing me 
 
 in wj mother's estimation : but she just now 
 
 Ko. 18. — Elieh Pbect. 
 
 sought an opportunity to havo a serious conversa. 
 tion with me " 
 
 "My lord," I interrupted him— and I spoko 
 with a cold reserve, — " so far from your having a 
 right to level an accusation against me—" 
 
 " iliss Percy I" he exclaimed vehemently, " there 
 13 some terrible mistake! When did I ins alt you? 
 how did I insult you ? What possible word cr 
 deed of mine could you construe into an insolent 
 and dishonourable overture?'' 
 
 '•■ ily lord," I said, in astonishment, " can you 
 deny that you made use of the infamous services 
 of ilr. Peaseblossom " 
 
 '• I ?" ejaculated the Marquis, with an amaze* 
 ment so real that it was impossible to imagine that 
 he was playing a part. '-'I utterly despise tl.o 
 man ! He is ii hanger-on of my father's — a syc- 
 pbaut— a parasite, as you have doubtless seem 
 but until now I had certainly believed that he was 
 harmless !"
 
 B» 
 
 ISJCET SSSr^Ic <i. - 
 
 ' tain, mi?' 
 ? • :* wctas w 
 
 k%!k BdnaeaiE— «&& I 
 
 «teft7Mi 
 
 
 
 I «titU ant «»««? tnb. Smr «as il juai&r. 
 9tauiytakht Sat ii Atiut «a my wwMnwmnt aoti. .. 
 
 awi^n i uui ami iiA -jae^ lam&. i.i'/ r.- 
 
 - TtUlLl* •*'i\L 
 
 jr • - - • 
 
 i:c «a. 5cr- 
 
 X^ sxjI' 
 
 !•* ct.="<;*- — "" U'i 
 
 
 ])iHa 
 
 am 
 . Ik 
 
 
 
 
 catf 
 
 -'MTIi 
 
 .i«a* 
 
 '^5*^ 
 :ll» 
 
 .11 te 
 
 
 fcMkasC SZIL Ttin-.^tw
 
 BllEy PEBCT; OB, THE MEHOIBS OP AIT ACTHE8S. 
 
 1Z<3 
 
 generous feelings and upright principles ! I will 
 [ importune you no more. 'We will be friends, Ellen 
 
 God bless you ! Farewell !" 
 
 With these last words, uttered amidst the deepest 
 
 nestly insisted that I should be present at this 
 interview, I dii not deem it proper to interfere in 
 what was passing, unless absolutely called upon so 
 to do. The young nobleman's back was towards 
 
 emotions, the young Marquis wrung my hand and ( me ; and I could not therefore see what expression 
 precipitately left the room. I was much affected his countenance had. But that he was irresolute 
 by the generosity of his conduct, as well as by his ' bow to act or what to say, I could full well judge 
 grief and the hopeless passion he experienced for from the interval of silence which followed that 
 me. I remained there for a few minutes to compose | most touching and agonizing appeal on Juliet's 
 my looks and collect my thoughts; and then I part. All of a sudden my unhappy friend rose up 
 ascended to the drawing-room where I had left , from her kneeling posture ; and as I caught a 
 
 Juliet. I found her seated at a table, with her 
 countenance buried in her hands ; and I knew that 
 her mind must have undergone some fresh revul- 
 sion — that all her grief had revived — that her for- 
 titude and her calmness were lost. I hastened to 
 
 glimpse of her countenance, I perceived that it now 
 wore the fixed rigid look of utter despair. 
 
 " I understand you, my lord," she said, in a 
 deep hollow voice : " you will not grant to me this 
 act of justice ! If your mind be made up to in. 
 
 console and strengthen her : but in the words that flict this fearful wrong upon me, not all the prayers 
 
 I used I was careful to encourage no hope : inas 
 much as from the Marquia of Dalrymple's lips I 
 had just received another proof of the black perfidy 
 of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe's heart. Indeed, 
 I proposed to communicate to Juliet what I had 
 80 recently learnt, in order that she might be pre- 
 pared for the very worst that could happen at 
 the expected interview, — when the door of the 
 drawing-room opened and Lord Frederick Bavens 
 cliffe made his appearance. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVL 
 
 JUI.IEl'9 ?ATE. 
 
 Os beholding Juliet in that posture which indi- 
 cated so much affliction, and on perceiving that I 
 myself w:;s in the attitude of one administering 
 consolatiou. Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe stopped 
 short for a moment upon the threshold ; and his 
 countenance betrayed a guilty confusion. He 
 could not do otherwise than suspect that there 
 was something wrong— and all the more so inas- 
 much as Juliet had been denied to him the pre- 
 vious day on the plea of indisposition. In my 
 regards, as I turned towards him, he beheld no 
 encouragement — nothing to reassure him — nothing 
 to enable him to clutch at the hope that there was 
 some other cause than his own stupendous perfidy 
 for Juliet's affliction. Being however, as the 
 reader must ere this have comprehended, a thorough 
 proficient in the art of hypocrisy and dissimulation, 
 Lord Frederick quickly regained an outward air 
 of self-possession in one sense ; but in another 
 afiecting to be concerned and frightened at Juliet's 
 visible distress, he hastened forward. 
 
 "Here's Lord Frederick!"! hastily whispered 
 to my unhappy .|riend; for, she had not heard the 
 door open. 
 
 Juliet arose with a start : then for an instant she 
 stood as if undecided how to act— her countenance 
 deadly pale, and her features convulsed with the 
 emotions that were agitating in her bosom. But 
 suddenly throwing herself upon her knees, and 
 stretching forth her arms with the' hands clasped 
 imploringly, towards Lord Frederick, she passion- 
 ately exclaimed "Do mo justice! make me your 
 wife. Oh, for the sake of your unborn child, make 
 me your wife— and all shall be forgiven !" 
 
 1 had sped to shut the door which Lord Frede- 
 rick had left open ; and I retired to the remotest 
 pf\rt of the room: for although Juliet had ear- 
 
 to which my lips might give utterance can possibly 
 move you !" 
 
 " But what means all this i" asked Lord Frede- 
 rick, assuming an air of bewilderment, — his object 
 being doubtless to ascertain the precise extent to 
 which the details of his villany were known. 
 
 " Oh, my lord !" exclaimed Juliet, with anguished 
 vehemence, " is it possible that you can play this 
 hypocritical part ? Would you make me think 
 that there is no baseness of which you are not ca- 
 pable ? Why, for all the love that my heart be- 
 stowed upon you, have you given me back such 
 utter treachery ? Your hatred, your scorn, your 
 contempt would have been better thiin this tre- 
 mendous injury — this scarcely reparable wrong 
 which you have inflicted upon me ! Ob, once 
 more— once more^and for the last time — do I 
 beseech you to do me justice!" 
 
 Again she fell at his feet : but through the dim- 
 ness of the tears which filled my eyes, I could not 
 discern the precise expression of her countenance ! 
 Agonized it must have been : but whether there 
 were the slightest scintillation of hope glimmering 
 there, I knew not. 
 
 "Yes, for the last time," she continued, in 
 accents of indescribable plaintiveness and most 
 touching entreaty, " do I implore you to give 
 me the name that shall enable me to look the 
 world in the face ! Oh, let me not be doomed to 
 look upon him whom I have loved so well, — let 
 me not be destined to regard the father of my 
 child as the destroyer of my happiness ! Is it 
 because I have loved you that you can trample 
 me in the dust? — is it because you ought to be 
 my protector that you have become my perse- 
 cutor ? Oh, for God's sake, Frederick- by all 
 your hopes of prosperity in this world and of 
 happiness hereafter — do me that act of justice 
 which I entreat at your hands!" 
 
 Though Lord Frederick's back was still turned 
 towards me, yet could I now perceive by his ges- 
 tures and movements that he was much embar- 
 rassed and agitated, even if not touched in a right 
 sense. Juliet had taken his hand in both hei' 
 own; and she was holding it tightly. My pre- 
 sence at the farther extremity of the room ap- 
 peared to be completely forgotten by both. 
 " Eise, Juliet," he said ; " and listen to me." 
 She obeyed him in silence : she stood before him 
 with the air of one expecting her doom to be pro- 
 nounced, with a horrible consciousness of what 
 that doom would be, and yet not daring to anticU 
 pate it by another syllable iroiu her own lips.
 
 140 
 
 ELLEN PBKCT; OE, THS MEMOIES OV AN ACTEES3. 
 
 "Listen to me," he continued— and his voice 
 was hoarse as well as tremulous with agitation. 
 " I see that you know everything — and it is there- 
 fore useless for me to deny what I have done, I 
 
 swear to you, Juliet, that I loved you " 
 
 ' " Loved me ?" she said, in shuddering accents of 
 inquiry. 
 
 "Well then," be continued, "I still love 
 you " 
 
 " Oh, if you still love me " 
 
 "Pray listen to me ! — I beseech you to listen!" 
 
 '•' I will, I will," said Juliet nervously. " Pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 " I still love you," continued Eavenscliffe : " but 
 my position is such that I cannot " 
 
 "Enough, my lord!" said Juliet, in a cold 
 freezing voice. " I now comprehend my doom." 
 
 " But do listen to me !" exclaimed Lord Fre- 
 derick, almost petulantly. '• I know very well 
 that my safety is in your hands and in those of 
 your parents — and that you can punish me for 
 what I have done. But this will not advance your 
 interests. You will ruin me, and at the same time 
 ruin yourself. I am willing to do all that I can 
 or may to repair the injury which in my madness 
 
 and infatuation I have inflicted 1 will settle 
 
 upon you a handsome income ■ I will " 
 
 " Talk not to me, my lord," interrupted Juliet, 
 with a cold indignation which at the same time 
 had something dignified as well as sccrnful in it, — 
 " talk not to me as if you were addressing one of 
 those depraved and degraded creatures who can be 
 purchased at a price or whose wounded feelings 
 can be healed by gold ! I ask you to render me 
 honourable in the sight of the world ; and if you 
 refuse this act of justice, I will accept nothing 
 from you as a boon. I now know my fate ; and 
 my mind is made up what course to pursue. Even 
 if I were vindictive I should prefer the safety of 
 my reputation to the wreaking of vengeance. Be- 
 sides, for such a crime as that which you have 
 committed, the chastisement it deserves is too 
 great to be dealt out by human law : it must be 
 left to the dispensation of heaven ! Go, my lord ! 
 —you are safe from injury at my hands! But, 
 Oh ! return not into the great world to boast 
 that the too confiding girl has become your victim 
 —or that the despised ballet-dancer has been the 
 transient toy of your pleasures. Leave me the 
 chance, my lord, of veiling my shame from the 
 public knowledge; so that when I go back to earn 
 my bread upon that stage from which for a time 
 I was snatched away to be cradled in a brilliant 
 and blissful delusion, I may not have to blush 
 when looking others in the face. And, Oh 1 con- 
 sider my parents, my lord ! They will presently 
 have a tremendous weight of affliction to bear up 
 against :— aggravate it not by the betrayal of the 
 fearful secret to the world !" 
 
 It was with an indescribable pathos, in the most 
 touching tones, and with the most feeling accents 
 that Juliet bad thus spoken. The tears were 
 raining down my cheeks ; my bosom was convulsed 
 with sobs ; I could scarcely restrain myself from 
 rushing forward, throwing myself at Bsvenscliffe's 
 feet, and imploring him to have mercy upon one 
 who was so forbearing towards him and who thus 
 displayed the noblest sentiments and the loftiest 
 feelings. 
 
 " But why, Juliet," he said, " should we sepa- 
 
 rate ? Let me give you a house of your own — 
 surround you with every luxury and comfort? 
 I would visit you frequently — nobody need 
 know " 
 
 '•' Ah, my lord !" she indignantly exclaimed, 
 "you would have me become your pensioned mis- 
 tress ? Dare to address ma again in such terms, 
 and all my good resolutions towards you will 
 vanish as if they had never been ! Add not insult 
 the most intolerable to cruelty the most horrible ! 
 Oh, it is the deepest of the humiliations into which 
 your wickedness has plunged me, for you to tes- 
 tify that because I am dishonoured you deem that 
 I can become profligate I Ali, my lord ! it was 
 doubtless a fine thing for you, a brilliant young 
 nobleman, to ensnare the humble ballet-dancer ! — 
 and perhaps you think that when placing a crown 
 of thorns upon her head, you placed a diadem of 
 glorious triumph on your own ! Oh, be proud of 
 this conquest I — it requires but tluit to be the con- 
 summation of all your iniquity ! xS^ow therefore 
 I will use threats " 
 
 " Por heaven's sake, speak not thus passion* 
 ately !" exclaimed the young nobleman, trembling 
 
 with alarm. " You will be overheard Ah ! 
 
 Miss Percy is here !" 
 
 "Yes— I am here, my lord," I said, now ad- 
 vancing from the extremity of the room; ''and 
 after this scene I shall have a poorer opinion than 
 ever of human nature. That you could have re- 
 sisted the appeals of her whom you have so cruelly 
 wronged " 
 
 "Enough, Ellen!" interrupted Juliet vehe- 
 mently : " he is inaccessible to prayers ! I will 
 use threats. This, then, my lord, is my determi- 
 nation : — keep my secret as you value your own 
 safety! Let but the slightest whisper reach my 
 ears that you have betrayed me— let but the 
 faintest murmur be wafted to me that you have 
 made a boast of the wreck and ruin you have 
 achieved — and that instant the vengeance of the 
 law shall be invoked against you! These are the 
 terms that I offer; and it is for you to decide 
 whether you accept them." 
 
 " Why all this passion, Juliet ? why address me 
 in this language ?'' asked Ljrd Frederick. " I 
 tell you that I am ready to do anything which you 
 suggest, and which I can or »wy perform. The 
 secret has been hitherto kept ; and it sJiaU be 
 kept ! But let us part friends " 
 
 "Friends?" echoed Juliet wildly: and then 
 with a half-stifled shriek she flung herself upon a 
 chair, covered her countenance with her hands, 
 and burst into a paroxysm of uncontrollable 
 anguish. 
 
 Lord Frederick was about to approach her, 
 when I laid my hand upon his ftm, saying in a 
 low voice, " I insist, my lord, that you leave the 
 room !" 
 
 For an instant the young nobleman flung upon 
 me a look of malignant defiance : but the next 
 moment assuming a submissive air, he said, " Yes, 
 yes, iliss Percy— I will be guided by you!" 
 
 '•■ Go then," I said : and while he retreated, I 
 threw my arms around Juliet's neck, pressing her 
 to my bosom. 
 
 For a few minutes she continued to weep with 
 a bitterness that had never before characterized 
 weeping in my presence, and to sob with a con- 
 vulsiveness that seemed to threaten her with dis-
 
 solution. But after a while sbe desisted; and [ ceeding; and therefore it was my intention to wait 
 wiping away her tears, she nerved herself with all [ a few minules until they themselves should risa 
 the fortitude she could possibly summon to her aid. i to take their temporary leave of Mr. Eichards. 
 
 "The crisis is over, dear Ellen," she said, in The manager— in his French cap and flowered 
 accents which though subdued, were nevertheless silk dressing-gown — was seated at his desk, upon 
 firm and collected. " I feel like the doomed one | which, as usual, there were decanters and bottlca 
 who having bidden a last farewell to those from I of wine. Indeed I do not recollect that I ever 
 whom it was anguish to tear himself away, could [ entered Mr. Eichards' private room, no matter at 
 declare that the bitterness of death had then what hour of the day, without seeing wine placed 
 passed ! Yes— I accept my destiny : I must live before him. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were par- 
 for the sake of that unborn child which asked not j taking of some slight refreshment after the re- 
 to bo called into being ! You shall now see, ^ hearsal ; and Mr. Richards was giving some in- 
 
 EUen, how firm and courageous I can become, 
 and with what strength of mind I can pass 
 through all the rest of the ordeal that is yet to be 
 accomplished. But I have now a favour to be- 
 seech at your bands " 
 
 " Anything— every thing, dearest, dearest Julie 1" 
 I exclaimed, again folding her in my embrace. 
 " Tell me what I can do for you " 
 
 " Hasten to the theatre," responded Juliet, " and 
 see my father and mother. Tell them everything. 
 But, Oh ! break it gently ; and it will bo better 
 that they should there \eava the terrific intelli- 
 gence, than that the tidings should await them 
 
 when they come back to the house. By the step j and a Walking Gentleman," continued 
 I ask you to take, the first ebullition of their llichards 
 
 Btruetions to Mr. Grreen, the stage-manager. 
 
 Having received me with his wonted half- 
 cordial, half-respectful salutation, Mr. Richards 
 continued speaking to his stage. manager. 
 
 "Well then, Mr. Green," he said, "so far, so 
 good : the new piece will be a tremendous hit. 
 But by the bye, we shall want a fresh Heavy 
 Man " 
 
 " Very good, sir," responded the stage-manager : 
 "there is Judkins — I mean Arlington, as he now 
 calls himself— who is just come back from circuit 
 in Lancashire." 
 
 " We shall also require a First Low Comedian 
 
 Mr. 
 
 anguish will have passed ere their return home 
 otherwise they would betray everything by their 
 ejaculations of despair, to the servants of this 
 household. Tell them — tell them that which 
 they know not yet : tell them that I am in a way 
 to become a mother — and that for the sake of my 
 honour, my character, my repute, everything must 
 be hushed up! Will you do this, dear Ellen ?" 
 
 "I will, Juliet— I will," was the answer given 
 amidst the deep affliction which rent my soul. " I 
 will speed at once ! But you " 
 
 "In the meantime, Ellen," answered Juliet, 
 " I shall be nerving myself yet more strongly than 
 I am even now fortified, to meet my sad, sad des- 
 tiny. Tell my parents that I conjure them by all 
 the love they bear me — for their' own sake and for 
 mine — to support this terrible misfortune with a 
 
 " I will make inquiries, sir, and let you know 
 this evening." 
 
 " Very good," continued the lessee. " Ah ! and 
 we shall want a Singing Chambermaid too. What 
 about her ?" 
 
 " There is Miss Tripps, sir," replied Green : 
 " she has been at the Standard and Garrick— but 
 I think if she came out here, with a new name — 
 of course a good one— Miss Harcourt, for in- 
 stance " 
 
 " Well, see her. Green — and make terms with 
 her," interjected Mr. Eichards. "And then what 
 about a couple of extra Gentlemen for Utility ?" 
 
 " Easy to be found, sir," responded Green. 
 "If you will please to leave it to me " 
 
 " Well, be it so : and now don't let the grass 
 grow under your feet. Take a glass of wine. 
 
 becoming courage ; so that the suspicions of the 1 Green— and a biscuit. Miss Trafford, a glass of 
 
 world may not be excited. And now go, Ellen !" 
 
 I accordingly left my poor friend ; and having 
 hastily put on my bonnet and mantle, I entered 
 the cab which in the meanwhile had been sent for. 
 Most distressing was the task which I had to per- 
 form ; and I composed my feelings as well as I 
 possibly could in order to accomplish that task in 
 precise accordance with Juliet's instructions. I 
 arrived at the theatre, to which Mr. and Mrs. 
 Korman had repaired for the purpose of rehearsal ; 
 and on reaching the stage from the private en 
 
 wine ? No ! It is really always no with you ! 
 Another glass. Green ? You had rather not ? 
 
 Well, go to the 1 mean go and see about 
 
 these matters we have been talking of." 
 
 At this moment one of the theatrical under- 
 lings entered the lessee's room, bearing a letter, 
 which he presented to Mr. Eichards. 
 
 "There!" exclaimed the lessee, with a look and 
 voice of vexation when he had perused the letter. 
 " This is from the Lord Chamberlain, to intimate 
 that Prince Albert will visit the theatre 'on Mon- 
 
 trance, I learnt that those whom I had come to | day evening next. Ah ! the public fancy it is a 
 
 see were with Mr. Richards, in his own private 
 room. I knew that my countenance expressed a 
 profound sadness ; and I exerted every eft'ort to 
 
 assume a collected look for a cheerful one was 
 
 impossible ! Fortunately it was a dark December 
 
 very fine thing for us lessees, when Royalty ho- 
 nours our houses : but it is just the reverse ! The 
 last time I received not a single farthing from the 
 Eoyal hands ! Yuu may be incredulous, Mr. Nor- 
 man; but upon my honour it is a fact. However, 
 
 day : it was now verging towards three o'clock in | wo must submit to these inflictions," added the 
 the afternoon ; and the manager's room was half j lessee., with a sigh of resignation ; " and there's 
 involved in obscurity. Thus, whatsoever my looks | an end of it.— Did you wish to speak to me. Miss 
 would have otherwise betrayed, was not noticed as Trafl'oru ?" he amiably asked. 
 I entered. I had not chosen to send and fetch "No," I answered. "Being in the neighbour- 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman from that room, for fear hood"— and I hesitated what excuse to make—" I 
 they should at onje have suspected there was thought I would avail myself of Mr. Norman'a 
 something wrong on account of so unusual a pro- | carriage to return homo "
 
 '• We are ready, my dear girl," said Mrs. Nor- 
 man : aud we accordingly took our leave of the 
 lessee. 
 
 But on issuing forth from bis room, I intimated 
 to Mr. and Mrs. liorman I wished to speak to 
 them in private before we took our seats in the 
 carriage ; and we therefore proceeded to Mrs. 
 Norman's dressing-chamber. Then I began to 
 break the fearful intelligence as delicately as I 
 could to Mr. aud Mrs. Xorman ; and entreating 
 them to control their feelings as well as they were 
 able, I divulged the fatal truth that Juliet was 
 not a wife ! Mrs. ZSTorman fainted : her husband 
 sat down, gazing upon me with a look of blank 
 dismay and vacant consternation, I hastened to 
 administer restoratives to the unfortunate mother 
 of tho dishonoured Juliet ; aud as she slowly came 
 back to consciousness, Mr. Norman sank upon his 
 knees, clasped his hands, and implored heaven to 
 forgive him for having been instrumental in ac- 
 complishing his daughter's ruin I represented 
 to him that he need not blame himself, for that he 
 had acted for the best in giving his assent to what 
 at the time he had believed to be a holy and 
 legitimate ceremony : but it was a long while be- 
 fore he would desist from his bitter self-upbraidings. 
 His poor wife wrung her hands, wept passionately, 
 and seemed to be beyond the reach of consolation. 
 Fortunately however their affliction burst not 
 forth in a manner which could be overheard out- 
 side the door of tho dressing-room : and thus I 
 felt assured that the secret might still be kept, in 
 accordance with Juliet's wishes. 
 
 I will not linger upon this painful scene. In- 
 deed, if I were to protract it, it would only be to 
 swell the present episode of my narrative with de- 
 scriptions of rending grief and almost heart-break- 
 ing woe. Suffice it to say that the Normans now 
 comprehended the cause of my absence for the two 
 preceding days, and that I had been to Embledon 
 instead of on a visit to Lady Lilla Essendine. For- 
 tunately for my own concerns, it was not necessary 
 to tell them any more relative to Mr. Croft than I 
 had already told to Juliet ; and they themselves, 
 when enabled to reason and reflect deliberately, 
 gave their assent to Juliet's policy that the whole 
 hideous transaction should be hushed up as much 
 as possible 
 
 When we returned to Hunter Street, the meet- 
 ing between the parents and their dishonoured 
 child was painful and affecting to a degree ; but 
 no loud lamentations betrayed the secret to the 
 domestics of the household. Still did it soon be- 
 come apparent to those servants that something 
 had taken place; for despite the efforts of the 
 Normans'and of myself to assume a calm com- 
 posure outwardly, there was a damp thrown upon 
 our spirits which it was impossible to help betray- 
 ing. Indeed, for poor Mr. and Mrs. Norman the 
 blow was well nigh as terrific as for Juliet herself. 
 They had naturally taken such a pride in their 
 own respectability as well as in the knowledge 
 that their daughter's reputation was untarnished 
 — they had looked forward, with fond parental 
 ambition, t<o some eligible and perhaps even bril- 
 liant alliance that the handsome Juliet might form 
 —they had for awhile indulged in the dream that 
 Buch an aim was already accomplished, and that 
 in a few short months she would be proclaimed to 
 tho world as Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe. Ter- 
 
 rible was therefore tho blow which they had sus- 
 tained alike in their pride and in their feelinga, ia 
 their hopes and their aspirations ; and the bitter- 
 ness of the calamity was experienced keenly, 
 keenly by them. 
 
 As Lord Frederick's visits to the house now 
 suddenly ceased, and as it had been all along be- 
 lieved by the servants that he was paying his ad- 
 dresses to Miss Norman, and hence her retirement 
 from the stage, — the conclusion to which they 
 came was that the contemplated match was broken 
 off. Thus they could not be a stonished to ob- 
 serve that a damp had fallen upon the spirits of 
 the family, and that a certain gloom prevailed 
 where gaiety and cheerfulness had reigned before. 
 
 A couple of months passed ; and during this in- 
 terval I received two letters from my father, who 
 had settled himself at the town of St. Omer in the 
 north of France— a place but little frequented by 
 English visitors, and where he consequently hoped 
 to dwell unrecognised, as he was certain to be un- 
 molested. I likewise received letters from my 
 cousin Harry, giving the most favourable account 
 of the progress of the business for which he had 
 been sent to New York : but still he was unable 
 to fix the time of his return. In answering him, 
 I began to take the first step towards the avowal 
 of the profession I had embraced : I intimated that 
 I had been on a few occasions to the theatre, and 
 that from all I had seen and learnt I could not 
 help thinking that the prejudice which existed 
 against actors and actresses generally was a most 
 iinjust one. 
 
 During these two mo-aths I saw nothing at all 
 of St. Clair — nothing more of the Marquis of DaU 
 rymple than occasionally in his box at the theatre 
 — and very little of Lady Lilla Essendine. She 
 called three or four times to invite me to renew 
 my visits to her : but though I treated her in a 
 manner as if no suspicion to her disparagement 
 lurked in my mind, yet I invariably pleaded tho 
 pressure of my theatrical engagements as a reason 
 for declining her' invitations. 
 
 It was now the beginning of February, 1841 j 
 and five months had elapsed since the mock mar- 
 riage which had proved so fatal to Juliet's happi-^ 
 ness. The first fulness of grief on the part of her 
 parents had mellowed down into resignation ; and 
 her osvn mind had fortified itself with all the 
 energy that naturally belonged to it. It was about 
 this time that a fashionable morning paper an- 
 nounced in a paragraph, " the approaching mar- 
 riage of Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe with the 
 beautiful and accomplished Lady Cecilia Urban, 
 the rich heiress to the splendid estates left by her 
 deceased father Lord Eythorne." I may hero 
 observe that Lady Cecilia was an orphan, — her 
 mother having died in her infancy, and her father 
 a few years previous to the date of which I am 
 writing. 
 
 When this paragraph was read one morning at 
 the breakfast. table— (and Juliet, I should state, 
 was the first to notice it) — Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 at once showed by their looks that they would like 
 to prevent the match. Juliet remained for some 
 time silent, after having directed our attention to 
 the paragraph ; and I saw by the rigidity of her 
 features that her thoughts were powerfully at 
 work. 
 
 "This must not be!" she suddenly exclaimed
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBMMES OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 143 
 
 fltavtin^ up fiora lier seat. " Though perhaps the | 
 law would not recognise me, jet morally and in I 
 the sight of heaven am I his wife !" ! 
 
 '•' If o— it shall not take place ?" said Mr. Nor- ; 
 man, resolutely. " God knows I am not vindic- 
 tive, but it is impossible to remain silent and 
 suffer a young, wealthy, beautiful, and perhaps 
 confiding creature to be sacrificed to a man of 
 whom I might speak in the harshest terms !" 
 
 "Lady Cecilia Urban is, I hare heard, an 
 orphan," said Mrs. Norman ; " and it would be 
 cruel on our part to suffer her to be thus sacri- 
 ficed." 
 
 " But remember," I said, thinking it was now 
 my turn to speak, " that the terms which you, 
 Juliet, dictated to Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe, 
 were complete forbearance on both sides. If you 
 proclaim war against Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe, 
 he will no longer respect the secret which we have 
 all been so anxious to maintain." 
 
 Juliet sat down, and hung her head in despon- 
 dency. Mrs. Norman passed her kerchief across 
 her eyes : Mr. Norman reflected sadly and deeply. 
 At length he said, " It is true that our first consi- 
 deration is the maintenance of a secret which so 
 closely regards our own feelings : but the next 
 consideration is to save a confiding young lady 
 from sacrificing herself to one who assuredly will 
 not render her happiness his study. It is a sub- 
 ject that requires the most delicate and serious re- 
 flection." 
 
 Nothing more was said on the topic for that or 
 the following day : but the morning of the day 
 next ensuing brought me a letter from my father. 
 He therein stated that he had just learnt the in- 
 telligence that Lord Frederick KavenscliiTe was to 
 marry Lady Cecilia Urban, but that he was re- 
 solved to prevent the alliance. For this reason he 
 had made up his mind at all risks to return to 
 London ; and he bade me meet him in St. James's 
 Park, at four o'clock on the day following the one 
 on which the letter thus reached me. 
 
 I was still in my own chamber when the epistle 
 was brought to me by the lady's-maid ; and it was 
 fortunate that it reached me there — for if it had 
 been at the breakfast-table my emotions would 
 have betrayed themselves. I was frightened and 
 afllicted at this resolve which my father had taken ; 
 although on the other hand there was a reason for 
 the entertainment of satisfaction, inasmuch as it 
 proved that he himself was sincerely contrite, and 
 that he deemed it his duty to punish the indivi- 
 dual in whose perfidious schemes he had become 
 perforce inveigled. I determined to remain pro- 
 foundly secret in respect to the contents of his 
 letter ; and I composed my features before joining 
 the family at the breakfast-table. The subject of 
 the intended marriage of Lord Frederick and Lady 
 Cecilia was not again alluHed to ; and an equal 
 silence was maintained on the following day with 
 regard to it. Mr. and Mrs. Norman, as well as 
 Juliet, evidently thought that the secret which 
 they so much desired to preserve, could not pos- 
 sibly remain safe if they were to proclaim warfare 
 against Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE PAEK. 
 
 It was close upon four o'clock in the afternoon of 
 the appointe I day, when I entered St. James's 
 Park. It being the early part of the month of 
 February, the dusk was already beginning to close 
 in— the weather was raw and misty — and though 
 well wrapped up in a thick shawl and with good 
 furs, I nevertheless shuddered with the chill. 
 
 Just as I entered the iron gate of the enclosure, 
 a gentleman who was passing me rapidly, seemed 
 to start and even to stop short for a moment, as 
 if he recognised mo despite the dark veil which I 
 wore. But who he was I knew not : for the collar 
 of his paletot was put up, so that it completely 
 concealed all the lower part of his countenance, 
 while his hat shaded the upper part. Indeed he 
 passed so rapidly on again that I fancied I must 
 have been mistaken in supposing he had recog- 
 nised me. 
 
 I soon thought no more of the circumstance, as 
 I sped towards the spot where I was to meet my 
 father. This was at the back of the ornamental 
 water, on the side of the Park which is bounded 
 by the Birdcage Walk. I only met two or threo 
 stragglers during my walk from the gate to tho 
 place of appointment; and thus I was relieved of 
 much apprehension on finding how deserted was 
 the scene where the interview was to take place. 
 
 My father was there in readiness, waiting to re- 
 ceive me. He wore a thick over-coat, and had a 
 shawl kerchief concealing all the lower part of his 
 face : so that recognition of him was by no means 
 easy. He folded me in his arms, and hastened to 
 say, " Chide me not, dear Ellen, for thus daring 
 danger by coming to England : but ^ I felt that I 
 had a duty to perform." 
 
 "And yet you know, my dear father," I an- 
 swered, " from all I have told you in my letters 
 that the Normans are most anxious to keep the 
 secret " 
 
 "And naturally so," interrupted Mr. Croft. 
 " Bat what if it be not betrayed by theyti 7 — what 
 excuse in that case would the villain Ravensclifib 
 have in making a boast of his treatment of your 
 friend Juliet ? Besides, does not the threat of 
 invoking the vengeance (jf the law against him 
 always hold good? No, no! — believe me, Ellen, 
 he for his own sake will keep the secret. Even 
 amongst his own set such black treachery as that 
 of which he was guilty is but a sorry subject for 
 idle bravado. And then there is another reason. 
 It is true that the gown of a clergyman was taken 
 from my Back when the law smote me as a felon s 
 but how can he prove it ? There is no record of 
 such a transaction ; and if he came to deal with 
 the law, he might find it more difficult than he 
 anticipates to prove that he is not legally and in- 
 dissolubly united to your friend Juliet." 
 
 "I acknowledge, father, tho weight of all these 
 reasonings," I said : " but what course would you 
 adopt ?" 
 
 "I myself, Ellen," he answered, "shall call 
 upon Lady Cecilia Urban and tell her every- 
 thing. Yes — I am resolved to do so; and rest 
 assured that my tale will effectually bar this con- 
 templated alliance. I have with mo the proof
 
 144 
 
 EtLEN PESC; OEj THE MEM0IE3 OP AIT ACTEESS. 
 
 of Lord Frederick's villany — the letter which he 
 wrote to me at Embledon, begging and imploring 
 that I would send him a certificate iu order to 
 quiet Juliet's importunities." 
 
 " And what if jou met Lord Frederick at Lady 
 Cecilia's house ?" I asked, trembling with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 "Oh! my dear child," responded my father, "I 
 have been too much accustomed to dangers and 
 difficulties in the world not to proceed cautiously. 
 I will in the first instance make inquiries, and 
 ascertain whether Lord Frederick be at her lady, 
 ship's house or not. In a word, trust to me, 
 dear Ellen — and tranquillize these alarms." 
 
 We had proceeded slowly together along the 
 gravel walk while thus conversing — I leaning on 
 my father's arm. We now sat down on a bench, 
 behind which there was a mass of evergreens. 
 
 " I mean to permit myself the indulgence of 
 your society, dear Ellen," said my father, " for a 
 few minutes longer : for I shall not again see you 
 ere I leave England. I shall write to you the 
 issue of my interview with her ladyship; so that 
 you may make to your friends whatsoever com- 
 munication you shall think fit." 
 
 "Oh, my dear father!" I said, "for heaven's 
 sake be upon your guard ! I am full of appre- 
 hensions for your safety " 
 
 " Let me endeavour to tranquillize them," re- 
 plied my father. "There are only five persons in 
 all England who are acquainted with the fact that 
 I am the escaped felon, Charles Percy, now pass- 
 ing under the name of Croft." 
 
 "Hush! for God's sakejiush!" 1 murmured, 
 full of terror. " Why breathe these words " 
 
 " Because, my dear child," responded my father, 
 "I can never too often remind myself of what I 
 have become. But in respect to these five per- 
 sons, there are the lawyer and his wife — and they 
 would not betray me : there are the Earl and his 
 son— the former I need not dread; the latter, 
 even if I encountered him, would scarcely dare 
 to play a hostile part, for he knows not that con- 
 siderations on account of your friends would 
 bind me to secrecy. Lastly, there is your- 
 self " 
 
 "No— there is another!" exclaimed a voice, 
 which I at once recognised: and at the same in- 
 stant the individual sprang forth from amidst the 
 evergreens. 
 
 A low half-stifled shriek burst from my lips ; 
 for it was Edwin St. Clair who thus made his 
 appearance. He immediately seized my father by 
 the collar, saying, " Dare not attempt to fly ! dare 
 not attempt to use violence! — or I will shout for 
 succour ! Be tranquil — and you may yet go hence 
 in security !" 
 
 Ob, that evil genius, St. Clair ! In a moment 
 I comprehended it all. He was mufiled in a pale- 
 tot : it was he who had recognised me at the gate; 
 and he had evidently dogged me in a cautious 
 manner and with stealthy steps. "^Ij father was 
 for a moment transfixed to the spot with conster- 
 nation — while I threw my arms in wild agony 
 around him. But those last words from St. Clair's 
 lips elicited from my father the quickly uttered 
 question, "What terms have you to dictate ? and 
 who are you ?" 
 
 "Your daughter knows who I am," hastily re- 
 sponded St. Clair ; " and she can be at no loss to 
 
 conjecture the terms to which I allude. I have 
 heard enough to tell me who i/ou are, and to know 
 that you are completely in my power. An escaped 
 felon cannot possibly have much compunction in 
 surrendering up to me his daughter as my mistress 
 — especially as I can give him wealth, in the same 
 way that I will surround that daughter herself 
 with riches." 
 
 "Villain!" exclaimed my father, endeavouring 
 to shake him off: "unhand me, or I will strike 
 you down ! Call for succour if you will — give me 
 into custody: but imagine not for a moment that 
 I will yield to your threats or your tempta- 
 tions !" 
 
 Unable to speak, I was still clinging to my 
 father, — all my ideas in horrible confusion, save 
 and except for the comprehension of what was 
 passing between himself and St. Clair. At that 
 desperate but vain effort which he made to shake 
 St. Clair off, I clung all the more tightly to him ; 
 and then, my tongue being loosened, I exclaimed, 
 "For heaven's sake provoke him not, father! O 
 God ! I knew what it would be ! my apprehen- 
 sions were all but too well grounded ! and this is 
 the frightful result !" 
 
 " Console yourself, my dear child," responded 
 my father, in a voice tremulous with emotion. 
 " Unhand me, sir ! I swear that I will not at- 
 tempt to flee away : but I beseech you to be mer- 
 ciful to me for the sake of my daughter !" 
 
 " Yes — I unhand you," answered St. Clair, 
 " because at the very first evidence which you 
 give of an attempt to escape, I shall precipitate 
 myself upon you and raise an alarm. Listen, sir ! 
 I first wooed your daughter honourably— and she 
 rejected my proposal. I do not hesitate to admit 
 that I subsequently spread snares to entrap her— • 
 and she escaped from them all. She has baffled 
 me — she has humiliated me : I have love and re- 
 venge to gratify at the same time !" 
 
 " Enough, sir !" exclaimed my father. " I see 
 that jou are a villain ; and I would sooner perish 
 on the scaffold than place my own child in your 
 power. Now do your worst ! But stay !— let me 
 bid farewell " 
 
 "EUen!" ejaculated St. Clair, "will you see 
 your own father dragged hence as a felon, with 
 chains upon his hands? — will you behold him 
 placed in the dock.f — will you yourself have it 
 I>rociaimed to the world that the brilliant Miss 
 Trafford is the daughter of an escaped convict ?" 
 
 " No, no !" I exclaimed : " I would die sooner 
 than one tittle of all this should happen ! Ob, 
 Captain St. Clair " 
 
 " Appeal not to me, Ellen !" he interrupted me 
 in a pitiless voice : " I am inexorable I Decide 1" 
 — and he again laid his hand upon my father's 
 coat. ". Am I to raise my voice ? am I to send 
 forth the cry which shall bring hither those who 
 will drag your parent away to gaol ?" 
 
 " No !" I ejaculate:!, a sudden recollection 
 striking me, and which was previously lost in the 
 anguish of my mind and the confusion of my 
 thoughts. " Beware, villain, what your own 
 fate may be!" — and then I added with as 
 much terrible significancy as I could possibly fancy 
 niiglit attach itself to the words, " He who smells 
 the white rose, sleeps the sleep of death !" 
 
 The reader will remember how sudden, how ap- 
 palling, and how overwhelming was tlio effect pro*
 
 EtLEN PEKCT; OE, THE ME3IOIU3 OP AN ACTKESS. 
 
 145 
 
 duced upon St. Clair at Colonel Bellew'a house 
 when I prescuted the flower, asking him if he 
 knew the sjmbol. But that effect was almost as 
 nothing in comparison with that which these fresh 
 talistnanic words instantaneously produced. With 
 a hollow groan St. Clair loosened his hold upon my 
 father : he staggered back — he pressed his hands 
 to his brow — and in a voice of indescribable an- 
 guish, he said, "For Grod's sake, betray me not ! — 
 forgive me !" 
 
 There was just sufficient light remaining to show 
 the ghastly expression of St. Clair's countenance : 
 for his hat had fallen off as he staggered back. 
 My father g;ive utterance to an ejaculation of 
 astonishment ; but I myself — -overjoyed yet terri- 
 fied at the effect the talismanic words produced — 
 hastened to avail myself of the triumph. 
 
 "You per<;eive," I said, "that the secrets of 
 your own conscience are known to me. Depart 
 hence — and beware how you breathe one single 
 No. 19.— EujEN PEECr. 
 
 syllable injurious to my father in any quarter !— • 
 for if you disregard this warning, I shall repeat 
 elsewhere the words I have just uttered." 
 
 Again St. Clair moaned most piteously, and 
 with every evidence of a soul-crushing anguish, as 
 he rose from his kneeling posture. 
 
 " May I rely upon you, Miss Percy ?" he asked, 
 in a deep hollow voice ; " and I swear that your 
 father's secret is safe with me ! Nay, more— I 
 swear likewise that henceforth you yourself ■" 
 
 " Enough of these pledges, sir !" I interrupted 
 him : for I saw that he fancied himself to be in- 
 finitely more in my power than he really was. 
 '• You see that I am fully able to defend both my 
 father and myself ! And now leave us 1 — leave us !" 
 I added, peremptorily, perceivicg that he still lin» 
 gered, evidently with the desire of saying some* 
 thing more. 
 
 My words galvanized him into sudden alacrity i 
 he picked up his hat, and fled from the spot.
 
 149 
 
 IlLEN PEECV; OE, THE JIEMOIES OF AX ACT2ES3. 
 
 When his form was lost in the surrounding ob- 
 Bcurity, I threw ray arms around my father's neck, 
 exclaiming in wild joy, "You are safe! you are 
 Bafe !" 
 
 " Yes— saved by thee, my child !" he fervidly 
 responded, as ho strained me to hia breast. " But 
 what meant those strange words which produced 
 a still stranger effect " 
 
 " Question me not now, father I" I interrupted 
 him : " but for heaven's sake, speed away from 
 Loudon as quickly as you can !" 
 
 " I ought to obey you altogether, Ellen, after 
 what has occurred," he said : " but am I not to 
 fulfil this duty in respect to Lady Cecilia Urban ?" 
 
 " No, no, father !" I vehemently ejaculated. 
 •' Perish all other considerations beyond your 
 safety ! Ob, the thought of what might have 
 happened to you is horrible, horrible! Fly, 
 father! — [ conjure you to fly! It is your own 
 loving daughter who thus earnestly entreats 
 you!" 
 
 "And you shall be obeyed, my child!" he an- 
 swered. " Not for worlds would I do aught that 
 might tend to afflict your generous, your affec- 
 tionate heart! But I on my side have something 
 to entreat. Let not this marriage be accom- 
 plished—promise me that you yourself will de- 
 vise some means " 
 
 "I will, I will, .father!" I exclaimed, full of a 
 feverish terror lest any fresh danger should sud- 
 denly start up to menace my parent. " Ob, I 
 faithfully promise ! Rest assured that the mar- 
 riage shall cot take place ! And now fly !" 
 
 My father strained me in his embrace ; and he 
 then hastened away, — while I sank upon the 
 bench, exhausted by the variety of feelings that 
 had experienced so strong a tension. 
 
 When I was able to collect my scattered ideas 
 and to deliberate on everything that had taken 
 place, gratitude towards Zarah was amidst the 
 dominant feelings which inspired me. To that 
 gipsy was I indebted for the mysterious words 
 which saved my father from an infamous punish- 
 ment, and myself from the disgrace that would 
 have redounded upon my head. And then I be- 
 gan to consider how much St. Clair could have 
 possibly overheard of the conversation betwixt my 
 father and myself. I knew that his ear could have 
 caught nothing while we were walking together ; 
 for there were no evergreens nigh amidst which he 
 could have concealed himself. It was therefore 
 ■with a deep relief and satisfaction that I recalled 
 to mind as much as he could have overheard while 
 we were seated on the bench. I remembered that 
 this part of our discourse was confined to the cir- 
 cumstances that regarded my father only; and 
 therefore St. Clair had learnt nothing of Juliet's 
 secret, nor of my father's object in visiting London 
 —namely, the frustration of Lord Frederick's 
 hoped-for alliance with Lady Cecilia Urban. 
 
 Issuing from the Park, I entered a cab, and was 
 soon conveyed to Hunter Street. During the 
 drive thither I continued to reflect upon the inci- 
 dents which had taken place; and I marvelled 
 what the dread import of those words could be — 
 those cabalistic words, as Zarah had described them 
 — which produced so appalling, so frightful, so 
 terrific an effect upon Edwin St. Clair. Yet I 
 shuddered at the idea that there must be some 
 stupendous sense of guilt in St. Clair's conscience, 
 
 that he could thus have been brought on his knees 
 at my feet and forced to beseech that I wouU not 
 betray hira. It was indeed an astound. ng mysterv 
 to me; but again and again did my soul throb 
 with gratitude towards the gipsy Zarah for the 
 immensity of the service she had been instru- 
 mental in rendering me. 
 
 I had made a solemn promise to my father 
 which I did not however see in what manner I 
 was to keep. This was to prevent the contem- 
 plated alliance between Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe and Lady Cecilia Urban. The reader ia 
 already aware of the stringent motives which ren- 
 dered it necessary that the utmost caution should 
 be observed in dealing with Lord Frederick, for 
 poor Juliet's reputation was in his haaHg. Still 
 there was the pledge to my father ; and still there 
 was my own fixed desire, apart fcom all other con- 
 siderations, to frustrate the views of a young 
 nobleman who had behaved so infamously towards 
 my friend. Not that I had any personal regard 
 for Lady Cecilia : the little I had seen of her on 
 the night of the private theatricals at Ardleigh 
 House prepossessed me not in her favour— while 
 all that I had since heard of her from the lips of 
 the Marquis of Dalrymple had still further tended 
 to depreciate her in my opinion. Nevertheless, 
 for the other reasons above set forth, I considered 
 myself bouud to save oven that haughty beauty 
 ; from sacrificing herself to the unprincipled son of 
 the Earl of Carshalton. 
 
 I lay awake for several hours during the night, 
 pondering the means of accomplishing my object 
 without suffering Lord Frederick to become aware 
 that the hostility to his own views emanated from 
 beneath the roof of Mr. Norman's house. But at 
 length sleep stole upon my eyes before I had fixed 
 upon any one of the twenty projects which sug- 
 gested themselves to my imagination. When I 
 awoke in the morning I resumeckmy reflections 
 upon the same subject; and I could think of 
 nothing better than the plan of calling upon Lady 
 Cecilia, and binding her to the m'ost solemn xovr 
 of secrecy in respect to the authorship of the in- 
 formation I had to give her. Having made up 
 my mind to the adoption of this course, I resolved 
 to set off early, so that I might reach her lady- 
 ship's house at an hour when Lord Frederick 
 Rivenscliffo was by no means likely to call there. 
 Lady Cecilia lived with an elderly aunt at the 
 West End of the town ; and immediately after 
 breakfast, I went forth under the pretence of 
 having some purchases to make in Eegent Street. 
 
 It was about half-past ten o'clock in the fore- 
 noon that as I was crossing the very street I have 
 just named, in order to reach G-rosvenor Square, 
 I suddenly encountered the young Marquis of 
 Dalrymple. As I have recently said, I had only 
 occasionally seen his lordship in his box at the 
 theatre for upwards of two months ; and this was 
 the first time we had met since the day of expla- 
 nations in Hunter Street. A melancholy smile 
 appeared upon his countenance when he behold 
 me ; and proffering his hand, he said, " You know. 
 Miss Percy, that we were to continue friends." 
 
 " Most assuredly," I answered, with a frank 
 cordiality, as I gave him my hand. 
 
 " And if it were possible that in any way," he 
 continued to observe with rapidity of utterance, 
 " I could testify the warmth and sincerity of my
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTBES8. 
 
 147 
 
 friendship towards you, you ehould command me 
 —and you know not with what joy I would 
 render you any eeivice that it lay in my power to 
 perform !" 
 
 " Accept my gratitude, my lord," I answered : 
 
 "but there is nothing And yet there might 
 
 be !" I ejaculated, thus suddenly interrupting my- 
 eelf as a thought flashed to my mind. 
 
 " Tell me what it is !" exclaimed the generous 
 young nobleman eagerly. " I see there is some- 
 thing which I possibly might do " 
 
 " You yourself have repeated, my lord," I an- 
 swered, " what I myself said some time back — that 
 we are to be friends ! Now, I am going to give 
 you a proof of my friendship by confiding to you 
 a secret ; and you can give me a proof of yours 
 by acting in pursuance of that revelation." 
 
 " Command me to any extent !" replied Dal- 
 ryraple, evidently overjoyed at the prospect of 
 rendering his services available to me. 
 
 " Lord Frederick Ravenaclifife," I continued, 
 " is about to marry— or at least he hopes he is 
 about to marry Lady Cecilia Urban. But I 
 hinted to you the last time we met" — and I spoke 
 rapidly as I alluded to that meeting — " that he 
 had conducted himself in a dishonourable manner 
 towards some one of my acquaintance. Who that 
 injured one is, I shall not name, nor must you seek 
 to know. Suffice it to say that many reasons ren- 
 der it expedient to frustrate Lord Frederick's de- 
 sign of possessing himself of the wealth of the 
 rich heiress Lady Cecilia," 
 
 "And how would you accomplish your purpose? 
 how would you for your friend's sake interfere to 
 prevent the contemplated alliance ? Tell me," ex- 
 claimed Dalrymple, " in what manner I can serve 
 
 you for you must doubtless have some settled 
 
 plan in your mind" 
 
 "You must understand, my lord," I continued, 
 "that for certain reasons it is necessary Lord 
 Frederick Eavenscliflfe should remain ignorant of 
 the source whence the blow is struck at his inten- 
 tions " 
 
 " Indeed !" said Dalrymple : " then the matter 
 is difficult to manage. I know you too well to 
 believe that you would condescend to an anony- 
 mous letter." 
 
 " That plan I for a moment thought of, and the 
 next instant rejected," was my answer. " But 
 cannot you, my lord " 
 
 " Ah !" he exclaimed, " there is certainly a plan 
 —a means by which the whole affair could be con- 
 ducted so as to produce an extraordinary effect 
 upon Lady Cecilia, and at the same time to fulfil 
 your aim of complete secrecy in respect to the 
 source whence the warning emanates." 
 
 " And those means ?" I asked. 
 
 "To-morrow night," proceeded the Marquis of 
 Dalrymple, " there is a grand masked ball at Ard- 
 leigh House. Lady Cecilia Urban will be there ; 
 and I cannot have any difficulty in discovering her, 
 no matter how admirable may be the disguise of 
 her costume. If your injured friend thinks fit to 
 be present, I will furnish you with a card of ad- 
 mission ; and in the guise of a gipsy she would 
 find an opportunity of saying whatsoever she may 
 think fit to Lady Cecilia." 
 
 I reflected for a few moments j and then I said, 
 " Thank you, my lord, for your kindness : I ac- 
 cept the proposition," 
 
 "Then the card shall be sent," replied Dal- 
 rymple. "To- morrow evening, 30 soon as I shall 
 hava ascertained in what garb Lady Cecilia has 
 made her appearance, I will whisper the secret in 
 the ear of your gipsy friend. But how shall I 
 know her? — for in such a crowded assemblage 
 there may be a dozen who will wear a gipsy 
 costume." 
 
 " The gipsy," I answered, " whom you will wish 
 to recognise, shall carry in her hand an artificial 
 white rose :" — for the association of that flower 
 with the name of gipsy was strong in my mind at 
 the moment on account of the adventure with St. 
 Clair on tho preceding evening. 
 
 " Be it 80," responded the Marquis : " I shall 
 not fail to fulfil my part of the enterprise. But I 
 have yet a few things to say. It is arranged by 
 my mother that as the clock strikes one there is 
 to be a general unmasking " 
 
 " I understand, my lord," I interrupted him. 
 " Before that hour my friend in the gipsy costume 
 shall take her departure ; so that the countenance 
 of no uninvited stranger will be revealed." 
 
 "At nine o'clock to-morrow evening," pro- 
 ceeded the young nobleman, " the guests will 
 begin to assemble. On entering the great hall, 
 your friend will have to hand her card to the porter, 
 who will merely satisfy himself that it is ono that 
 has been issued : for the cards have numbers upon 
 them, but no names. Your friend will pass on 
 without molestation. It will be by looking at 
 my mother's list and ascertaining the number 
 of Lady Cecilia's card, that I shall be enabled to 
 fathom the disguise of her costume, whatever it 
 be : for I shall enjoin tho hall-porter to bear in 
 mind the dress of the lady who presents that par- 
 ticular card — and he will then give me the infor- 
 mation. So soon as I obtain it, it shall be whis- 
 pered in the ear of your gipsy friend carrying the 
 white rose in her hand." 
 
 I again expressed my gratitude to the young 
 nobleman for his kindness ; and instead of pursuing 
 my way to Lady Cecilia Urban's, I returned to 
 Hunter Street. I found Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 and Juliet still seated together in the breakUst 
 parlour — Mr. Norman engaged with the newspaper 
 — his wife studying apart in a new piece — and the 
 daughter apparently reading a book, though ia 
 reality buried in her reflections. 
 
 " There is a topic," I said, taking my seat 
 amongst them, " which for two or three days has 
 not been mentioned." 
 
 " I know what you mean, dear Ellen," said 
 Juliet, with quivering lips : " but that topic, 
 though unspoken of, has not been absent from my 
 thoughts." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman intimated the same ; and 
 they all three regarded me with curiosity — for they 
 saw by my look and manner that I had something 
 to communicate. 
 
 " Since you are all in the same mind still," I 
 proceeded, " I can have no hesitation in informing 
 you that the object may be carried out. I am 
 offered a card of admission to a masked ball at the 
 Duchess of Ardleigh's to-morrow night : Lady 
 Cecilia Urban will be there : I will go disguised as 
 a gipsy : and under the pretext of telling her for- 
 tune, will convey a warning which it must be her 
 own fault if she neglect. I will enjoin her to 
 secrecy : but even if she should neglect my injuno-
 
 143 
 
 ELIEN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 tion and speak to Lord Frederick on the subject, 
 he cannot possibly suspect that the destruction of 
 his hopes emanates from any one beneath this roof. 
 Indeed, not for a moment will be fancy that either 
 of us couid have obtained admission within the 
 portals of Ardleigh House on such an occasion." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Korman, as well as Juliet, com- 
 pletely approved of my project ; and as they ima- 
 gined that the oflfer of the card of admittance 
 must have emanated from the Duchess herself, 
 I was not questioned on the subject. The 
 reader will now have comprehended that it was 
 my intention to take the gipsy's character on my- 
 self, though I had suffered Lord Dalrymple to 
 imagine that it was a friend who would avail her- 
 self of the card he had promised to forward. It 
 was with considerable repugnance I had made up 
 my mind to penetrate in such a stealthy manner 
 into Ardleigh House ; but I knew that the pro- 
 ceeding must be managed with the utmost tact and 
 caution ; and I did not ask Juliet to undertake the 
 part, because I was well aware that her feelings 
 would get the better of her when speaking to Lady 
 Cecilia of the treachery of him whom she had loved 
 so fondly. It lay between Juliet and myself to 
 enact the part of the disguised gipsy ; and thus, 
 for the reason just explained, I was resolved to do 
 violence to my own inclinations and take the duty 
 on myself. 
 
 For the rest of that day, and throughout the fol- 
 lowing one, Juliet and I busied ourselves in making 
 up the costume that I was to wear. The Marquis 
 of Dalrymple sent the card according to his pro- 
 mise ; and as he had told me, I found that it bore 
 no name, but was merely numbered. 
 
 Fortunately I had not to appear at the theatre 
 on the evening of the masked ball — for I only per- 
 formed on alternate nights. Thus my time was 
 entirely at my own disposal; and punctually at 
 nine o'clock I took my seat in a carriage that was 
 hired for the purpose, — as I would not proceed to 
 my destination in the Normans' equipage for fear 
 that it should be recognised. And here I may 
 take the opportunity of giving the reader some 
 idea of the costume that I wore. There are few 
 who have not in their juvenile days beheld the 
 gaudily coloured frontispieces to the pamphlet con- 
 taining the Biography and Prophecies of the old 
 Norwood Gipsy. In those flaunting pictures the 
 renowned dame is represented with a short red 
 cloak, serving rather as a cape, and revealing the 
 antique-fashioned gown all gathered up in such a 
 nMinner as to display the petticoat. Somewhat 
 after this style was my fancy dress on the present 
 occasion. I wore a black silk dress, the skirt of 
 ■which was gathered up in capacious folds, thus 
 revealing a yellow embroidered petticoat. I had 
 the characteristic red cloak, with the hood drawn 
 over my head; and a false front of coarse black 
 hair entirely concealed my own. The black silk 
 vizard which I wore was not of the usual mas- 
 querade fashion, descending only to the lips aud 
 then terminating with a fringe: but it covered 
 the entire countenance— and I had purposely 
 pierced the eyelet holes very small, so that there 
 should be the less chance of recognition in respect 
 to my eyes. In my hand I carried a beautiful 
 arliik-ial white rose ; and thus my costume was 
 complete. I may add that by the fact of the silk 
 dress being gathered up into so bulky a mass, and 
 
 by the manner in which the folds of the red clorik 
 were disposed, the natural symmetry of my shapo 
 was completely concealed ; and the padding which 
 Juliet had artistically worked into the back part 
 of the cloak, especially where it lay upon the 
 shoulders, gave me a stooping and almost deformed 
 appearance. Indeed, before I left Hunter Street, 
 Juliet herself, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Norman, 
 declared that they coul'J not possibly have recog- 
 nised me if meeting me at a masked ball and pre- 
 viously unaware of the nature of the dress 1 in» 
 tended to assume. 
 
 Ardleigh House was reached ; and there was 
 already a throng of vehicles. But I noticed that 
 most of them appeared to be hired ones,— it 
 evidently being the study of the patrician mas- 
 queraders to avoid as much as possible the chances 
 of recognition, which would certainly have been 
 greater if they had arrived in their accustomed 
 equipages. But every precaution was taken at the 
 mansion itself to afl'ord fair play in this respect. 
 From the lofty portals to the very verge of the 
 pavement, a sort of covered passage was con- 
 structed — an elongated tent, with an awning and 
 side-curtains ; so that as each equipage drove up, 
 the door of the carriage opened against the very 
 entrance of this tented corridor. No loungers 
 were permitted to be in the neighbourhood; aud 
 the carriages set down their human freightage in 
 rapid succession. 
 
 It was soon my turn to descend from the vehicle 
 that had brought me thither; and I sped along 
 the tented corridor towards the portals. As the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple had given me to understand 
 would be the case, I found the hall-porter standing 
 at a table, on which was a mahogany bos with a 
 small aperture in the top; and as I presented him 
 my card of admission, he just glanced at it, and 
 dropped it into the box. I pnssed on, ascending 
 the grand staircase, up which the human tide was 
 flowing in all possible varieties of hues, as if it 
 were a stream coverc-d with the leaves of myriads 
 of different coloured flowers. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 THE ilASQUEKADE. , 
 
 The staircase was most tastefully arranged with 
 plants on either side, and decorated with festoons 
 of artificial flowers. The lauding was similarly 
 embellished; and as I entered the state-apartments, 
 the scene was truly picturesque and brilliant. A 
 considerable portion of the guests had already 
 arrived ; and these presented to the view all the 
 usual varieties of fancy costume, I need not 
 linger upon the description of the characters thus 
 personated. Suffice it to say there was no lack of 
 Greek brigands and Swiss peasant girls, magicians 
 and shepherdesses, mountebanks av:d warriors, che- 
 valiers and cavaliers, heroines ef romance and 
 history : but all the dresses were of the richest 
 and most costly description. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of Ardleigh alone ap- 
 peared without masks ; but they nevertheless wore 
 fancy costumes. The Duke had taken it into his 
 head to personate Paganini, of whom he was a 
 great admirer: for be it rememberoi that his
 
 ELIEN PEECT; OS, TUB MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 119 
 
 Grace flattered himself that he was no meau dis- 
 ciple of the saiije art as that in which the great 
 professorwas so wondrous a proficient. If he had 
 chosen that character in reference to his own spare 
 lean figure, he certainly selected a part that in his 
 physical capacity he was well able to represent ; 
 and truth compels me to declare that he looked in- 
 significant enough : for the light of true genius 
 which was wont to beam in the strange dark eyes 
 of Paganini, and shed such a wild lustre over his 
 pale countenance, was utterly wanting in respect 
 to the Duke of Ardleigh. The Duchess repre- 
 sented Catharine de Medici ; and she had studied 
 the appropriate costume with the most exquisite 
 taste, while its gorgeous richness set off the fine 
 shape to the most splendid advantage, and rendered 
 her natural queenly beauty all the more dazzling 
 and imposing. Close behind the Duke of Ardleigh 
 was an individual dressed as a Beef-eater, and with 
 a mask upon his countenance. By the stoutness 
 of his person, his stature and his shape, and his 
 sycophantic proximity to the Duke, I had no dif- 
 ficulty in comprehending that this was Mr. Pease- 
 blossom. 
 
 The ducal host and hostess were stationed near 
 the entrance of the brilliantly lighted saloon, so 
 that they might welcome their guests as they 
 flowed into that magnificent apartment. The 
 Duchess bowed in an affable manner: but the 
 Duke had some passing joke for every wearer of 
 a costume that peculiarly struck his fancy. Thus, 
 when I made my appearance, his Grace said, " You 
 shall tell my fortune, red-cloaked dame, before the 
 evening is finished Shan't she, Pease " 
 
 But here he stopped short, as he half turned 
 round towards his toady who stood behind him : 
 for the Duchess threw upon her husband a look 
 which was as much as to warn him against men- 
 tioning any names. 
 
 Wandering about the saloon, I carried the white 
 rose as if listlessly in my hand : but I anxiously 
 awaited the moment when I should receive the 
 promised information from the Marquis of Dal- 
 rymple. There was a superb band in the orchestra ; 
 and the rich sounds of its music went rolling and 
 swelling through the spacious saloon. The guests 
 kept pouring in with rapidity, and the dancing 
 soon commenced. When the gentlemen were 
 choosing partners, I purposely kept myself aloof 
 to avoid a solicitation for my hand, as I did not 
 wish to mingle in the actual amusements of the 
 evening, nor to delay the moment when the Mar- 
 quis of Dalrymple might accost me with the ex- 
 pected intelligence. But as I was seated in a 
 remote corner, a gentleman dressed as a Spanish 
 Cavalier of the sixteenth century, accosted me, — 
 saying in the accustomed tone of masquerading 
 familiarity and hadinage, " The promptings of my 
 heart convince me that the garb of the old jSTor- 
 wood Gripsy conceals a lovely face and a beautiful 
 figure. Will you not, therefore, most fair reader 
 of the future, bestow your hand for the nonce upon 
 Don Leon Cortez of Estremadura ?" 
 
 I could not possibly refuse ; and I was moreover 
 seized with curiosity, for it struck me that the 
 Toice, though evidently feigned, was not unfamiliar 
 to my ears. Indeed, a strange suspicion had en- 
 tered into my mind; and as I contemplated the 
 height and symmetry of Don Leon Cortez, that 
 suspicion was strengthened. In short I became 
 
 convinced that this was none other than Lorci 
 Frederick Ravenscliffe who was leading me to the 
 dance. But so well was his countenance concealed 
 by the mask— so completely was its configuration 
 disguised by the false whiskers and the pointed 
 beard — so entirely were his natural gestures lost 
 in the graceful swaggering of the half proud, half 
 elegant hidalgo— that I was still wrapped in un- 
 certainty as to the truth of my suspicion. I how- 
 ever resolved to be entirely on my guard, and to 
 alter the tones of my voice to the extent of my 
 power. 
 
 " When the time for unmasking shall arrive," 
 said my partner, after a few common-place obser- 
 vations, " my prescience will be justified by the 
 revelation of a beautiful face from behind that 
 vizard. And perhap?," he continued, contem- 
 plating me earnestly through the holes of his own 
 mask, " the coarse black gipsy hair will give place 
 to Hyperion ringlets of auburn or of chestnut." 
 
 I was now convinced that this was really Lord 
 Frederick Ravensclife ; for he had fully betrayed 
 himself by some of the inflections of his voice. 
 But I saw that he had not the remotest suspicion 
 who I really was; — as indeed how could he enter- 
 tain any such idea ? how could he suppose that I 
 should be amongst the brilliant guests at the ducal 
 house of Ardleigh ? I made some observation in 
 answer to his hadinage, but in a voice completely 
 feigned; and I was likewise careful to keep my 
 looks averted as much as possible. 
 
 "I overheard the Duke tell you, most beautfful 
 of gipsies," he continued, " that in the course of 
 the evening you should tell his Grace his fortune. 
 May I hope that for me likewise you will exercise j 
 your powers of penetrating into futurity ?" 
 
 " It is my vocation — and I must fulfil it," I 
 answered. " But wherefore do your eyes wander 
 around the room?" I continued. "Do you seek 
 for some one to whom your vows are plighted? 
 Methinks that she who has the greatest claim 
 upon your heart will not meet you here to- 
 night." 
 
 Lord Frederick started visibly; and I could 
 judge what was passing in his mind. He doubt- 
 less wondered whether this was mere randon badi' 
 nage on my part — or whether it had a certain 
 significancy pointing towards the secret which lay 
 in the profundities of his guilty conscience. But 
 the circumstances of the dance temporarily inter- 
 rupted our conversation; and when there was an 
 opportunity for renewing it. Lord Frederick said 
 in a light gay tone, " Your steps and your move- 
 ments are replete with gliding grace. The gipsy 
 who would seem threescore, is yet a young lady in 
 her teens." 
 
 " And if it be so," I answered, " is not this a 
 scene for innocent deceptions ? And in that re- 
 spect it is far from being an epitome of the great 
 world which lies beyond these walls." 
 
 " There is satire in your words, most inscrutable 
 gipsy," responded Lord Frederick : and again I 
 could distinguish that he was a prey to more or 
 less uneasiness or uncertainty. 
 
 " Not satire," I rejoined : " I only spoke the 
 truth. Would it not be better if our deeds in that 
 great world to which I am alluding, were so little 
 fraught with cause for self-reproach, that they left 
 our hearts all the more free to enjoy the unmixed 
 delight of such recreative scenes as this ?"
 
 150 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE JIEMOIES OF AH ACTEES3. 
 
 " Tho lips which should deal only ia prophe- 
 cies," answered Lord Frederick, "are dealing in 
 sermons." 
 
 " Morals and aphorisms are in themselves often 
 prophetic," I at once rejoined : and then again did 
 the requirements of the dance cut short the dis- 
 course. 
 
 While I was gliding through the figure, I 
 thought to mjself that I had said quite enough to 
 Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe to render him uneasy 
 and to prepare him as it were for the grand result 
 which it was the object of my visit to achieve: so 
 that I was determined not to become more pointed 
 in my allusions, for fear lest he might begin to 
 suspect that which I was so anxious to conceal. 
 Accordingly, for the remainder of the time that 
 we were together in the dance, I conversed upon 
 lighter subjects ; and on being led back to my seat, 
 I was impressed with the conviction that he had 
 not the remotest idea who I really was. 
 
 He had scarcely left me, when I beheld an 
 elegantly-dressed cavalier of the Court of Louis 
 the Fourteenth approaching me ; and he sat down 
 by my side. His height and the symmetry of his 
 person justified the suspicion that this was the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple ; and so it proved to be : 
 for he at once addressed me in his natural tones, 
 but in a voice that was cautiously low almost to a 
 whisper. 
 
 " By the symbol of the white rose," he said, " I 
 am to understand that you expect a certain piece 
 of intelligence ?" 
 
 I bowed without speaking. 
 
 " Look," he continued, — " look to the farther 
 extremity of the room ; and upon that ottoman — 
 near the spot where the Duke and Duchess are 
 I standing, you perceive three ladies conversing to 
 a group of gentlemen. That lady in the middle, 
 dressed as Eebecca — I need not remind you of 
 Scott's novel of 'Ivanhoe' — is the one to whom 
 you will presently have to address yourself. If 
 you require any farther succour at my hands, 
 hesitate not to accost me." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Marquis of Dalrymple 
 rose from his seat, bowed, and glided away. I 
 could not help admiring, and being even affected 
 by the generous delicacy with which he behaved. 
 Evidently not suspecting who I really was, he did 
 not seek to gratify any curiosity on the subject : 
 he had not even looked at me with a scrutinizing 
 attention ; his demeanour was respectful, courteous 
 and kindly considerate. 
 
 In a few moments I quitted my seat, and began 
 moving amidst the gay laughing assemblage to- 
 wards that extremity of the spacious saloon where 
 lady Cecilia Urban was seated. As I was pro- 
 ceeding thither I suddenly encountered a gentle- 
 man who was dressed as David Eizzio, as that 
 Italian Secretary is represented in pictures in 
 scenes of the life of Mary Queen of Scotland. I 
 should not have thus specially noticed him, had he 
 not started visibly, while an ejaculation burst from 
 his lips. To my ear it sounded peculiar ; for there 
 was aflPright as well as amazement in it; and as I 
 surveyed him with a rapid glance, I was smitten 
 with the conviction that he was none other than 
 Edwin St. Clair. No wonder that he should be 
 thus struck on beholding a gipsy carrying that 
 mysteriously emblematical flower which had so re- 
 cently produced such a terrible effect upon himself ! 
 
 I did not wish to enter into discourse with him : 
 for I knew how keen, shrewd, and penetrating he 
 was. I therefore appeared to notice not that my 
 costume had thus strongly excited him ; and I 
 was moving on, when another ejaculation, which 
 seemed almost an echo of his own, fell upon my 
 ears. This was a female voice ; and glancing 
 towards her from whom it came, I beheld the per- 
 sonification of Queen Marie Antoinette. The lady's 
 toilette was rich and elegant; and the natural 
 colour of her hair was entirely concealed by the 
 powder which she wore, — her head-dress being ar- 
 ranged according to the fashion of the latter part of 
 the eighteenth century. The reader will of course 
 understand that St. Clair's countenance was en- 
 tirely concealed by a mask ; and so was this lady's. 
 Her peculiar toilet prevented me from identifying 
 her figure with that of the one whose image in- 
 stantaneously rose up in my mind : but still I felt 
 persuaded that she was Lady Lilla Essendine. I 
 noticed moreover that both St. Clair and herself 
 were struck by hearing the ejaculation which 
 escaped the lips of each ; and the rapid glances 
 which I flung showed me that they were now 
 looking earnestly at each other. Both made a 
 movement as if to accost me — but both simul- 
 taneously held back ; and as I passed on, I saw 
 that they then advanced towards each other. 
 
 I gained the further extremity of the room; 
 and not being immediately able to accost Lady 
 Cecilia Urban, as she was still conversing with the 
 ladies and gentlemen who were with her, I looked 
 about to see what had become of St. Clair and 
 Lady Lilla Essendine. The latter was no longer 
 visible : but the former was approaching towards 
 the spot where I had halted. Though assuming 
 the negligent lounging air of a ball-room, he was 
 evidently bent on accosting me ; and I seemed to 
 have a kind of intuitive knowledge that there was 
 a nervous uneasiness in his soul. Doubtless he 
 might fancy on the one hand that the appear- 
 ance of a gipsy with a white rose was a mere coin- 
 cidence, accidental and without significancy : but 
 on the other hand, the circumstance had evidently 
 made more or less impression upon him, I moved 
 away — but not with an air as if I purposely in- 
 tended to avoid him : he however continued to 
 follow me, though with a visible irresolution 
 whether he should address me or not. At length 
 he made up his mind ; and advancing straight 
 towards me, said, " May I solicit your hand for 
 the quadrille that is about to take place P" 
 
 I was determined not to dance with Edwin St. 
 Clair ; and I accordingly declined the honour, on 
 the plea that my hand was already engaged to 
 some one else. He was about to say something 
 more, when I espied the Marquis of Dalrymple at 
 a little distance ; and hastening to accost him, I 
 said in a feigned voice, " Your lordship can reader 
 me a service. May I be permitted to force myself 
 upon you as a partner in this dance !" 
 
 " With pleasure," he immediately responded. 
 " It is sufficient that you are a friend of Miss 
 Percy to command my attentions and my ser- 
 vices." 
 
 I bad taken this step so hurriedly that I had no 
 leisure to reflect upon it until it was accomplished. 
 My object was to get rid of St. Clair, but yet to 
 do so in a manner which should prevent him from 
 supposing that I had refused to dance with him
 
 liLLEN PERCY J OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEE8B. 
 
 131 
 
 on a mere pretext and without being engaged to 
 any otLer. Now, however, I began to think that 
 I was improperly tasiug the Marquis of DaU 
 rymple'8 kindness : for not knowing that I was 
 Ellen Percy, he might fancy I was some actress of 
 perhaps an inferior grade, with whom he could not 
 possibly care to associate himself. But his manner 
 throughout the dance was most courteous and most 
 kind. He seemed to study to take all the conver- 
 sation upon himself and make me speak as little as 
 possible : he never once looked at me as with a 
 desire to penetrate behind the concealment of my 
 mask : nor did he even make the slightest allusion 
 to the peculiar circumstances in which I found 
 myself a guest beneath that ducal roof. I was 
 profoundly touched by the generosity and delicate 
 consideration of the young nobleman's entire con- 
 duct ; and from the very bottom of my heart did I, 
 in its silent aspirations, wish Herbert Dalrymple 
 the utmost amount of happiness that could possi- 
 bly become the lot of a mortal being. 
 
 Scarcely was the quadrille concluded, when he 
 eaid to me, " Lady Cecilia is now alone. Hasten to 
 avail yourself of the opportunity !" — and this was 
 the only reference he made during the dance to 
 the purpose which had brought me to the masked 
 ball. 
 
 I quitted him, and spsd towards the spot where 
 Lady Cecilia was now standing ; for she had moved 
 away from the ottoman on which I had previously 
 seen her seated. As I have already said, she was 
 dressed as Rebecca, the heroine of Scott's magni- 
 ficent novel of " Ivanhoe." For this character she 
 was admirably adapted by her figure : and but for 
 the vizard which she wore, the aquiline profile of 
 her countenance would have been even still more 
 appropriate. Her dress, rich and handsome, cor- 
 responded with the sumptuous toilet of the Jew's 
 daughter; and as her complexion was naturally 
 pale, with the slightest and most delicate tint of 
 the brunette, as much as could be seen thereof — 
 namely, on the neck and arms — was like-wise in 
 perfect keeping with the personification she had 
 chosen for the occasion. She wore a mask of the 
 usual description, descending only to the upper 
 lip, and bordered on the lower edge by a silken 
 fringe. Thus the fulness and cherry hue of those 
 lips were partially visible ; and presently, as her 
 breath blew aside the silken fringe, glimpses of the 
 brilliant teeth were likewise caught below the 
 mask. She evidently studied not very particularly 
 to conceal her identity : she doubtless felt that the 
 superb symmetry of her figure was set off to the 
 utmost advantage by the costume that she wore ; 
 and her natural pride rendered it by no means dis- 
 agreeable that it should be suspected who she 
 really was. Still, however, I should not have b«en 
 able, without the assistance of the Marquis, to re- 
 cognise her with any degree of certainty : for 
 amidst the six or seven hundred guests who were 
 present, there were many ladies of a figure, a 
 height, and a symmetry bearing a strong resem- 
 blance to her own. 
 
 Lady Cecilia was now standing alone, and a 
 little apart from the nearest group of masquerad- 
 ing guests. I accosted her — and said in a feigned 
 tone, but with the gay raillery which was suitable 
 to the scene, " How is it that the beauteous Ee- 
 becca is thus alone ?— or does she remain here the 
 better to contemplate and to make her reflections 
 
 upon the proceedings that are passing beiore 
 her ?" 
 
 " "Would you tell me my fortune ?" she in- 
 quired, with that aristocratic affability which had a 
 tincture of condescension in it, although she might 
 naturally suppose that she was conversing with an 
 equal. 
 
 " I know not, beauteous Rebecca," I re- 
 sponded, " that I shall be enabled to tell your 
 fortune : — for this means that I am to sketch 
 forth your eventual career — whereas it is written 
 in the book of destiny that your future from a cer- 
 tain given starting-point is to depend upon your- 
 self. You stand as it were upon the entrance of 
 two diverging roads; and therefore whichsoever 
 you may choose to enter upon, will conduct 
 through the chequered and varying scenery pecu- 
 liar to itself." 
 
 Lady Cecilia Urban, evidently regarding this 
 discourse as the mere jargon which I deemed suit- 
 able to my assumed character, smiled, and said, 
 " But if you be indeed a prophetess, can you aot 
 suggest which of the two roads it were preferable 
 for me to take, and which ought to be avoided ?" 
 
 "The vocation of the veritable and truthful 
 gipsy," I answered, with a certain solemnity, " is 
 to hold out warnings as well as to be profuse in 
 promises; — and this is the task which I will now, 
 with your permission, enter upon." 
 
 "You grow serious," said Lady Cecilia. 
 
 " It is a serious subject," I rejoiced. " In the 
 midst of the giddiest scenes of life it were well 
 sometimes that solemn thoughts should intrude. 
 Let us step aside ; and you may perhaps become 
 more interested in my discourse than yon may 
 now expect or anticipate." 
 
 I could see that the dark lustrous eyes of Lady 
 Cecilia Urban were fixed upon me with a scruti- 
 nizing look, through the holes of the mask, — as if 
 she sought to penetrate whether I were only ad- 
 hering simply to my assumed character, or whether 
 I had any ulterior purpose in view. At the same 
 time I could discern that her lips grew serious : 
 they closed— and the line of ivory was no longer 
 visible between the parting of their cherry red- 
 ness. 
 
 " Come this way," she said. " I think I know 
 where we may be alone." 
 
 "We passed out upon the landing ; and a side- 
 door admitted us into a room evidently appro- 
 priated for the accommodation of those ladies 
 whose toilets might become in any way disordered 
 during the recreations of the evening, and who 
 might wish to retire for the purpose of adjusting 
 them. As Lady Cecilia had expected, we were 
 alone there together : she closed the door ; and 
 still speaking in the feigned voice which she had 
 all along assumed, she said, "Are you really 
 serious in wishing to make some communica- 
 tion?" 
 
 " I am really serious," I answered, likewise 
 continuing to speak in disguised accents. 
 
 "You know me, then ?" said Lady Cecilia. 
 
 " Yes— I know your ladyship," I rejoined. 
 
 "And after all," she immediately continued, 
 now speaking in her natural voice, and with a 
 laugh that was slightly scornful, " there is in this 
 recognition no very remarkable proof of your 
 divining qualities : for I have scarcely studied to 
 conceal my identity — not one hundredth part as
 
 153 
 
 ELLEN TEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESa. 
 
 much as you have done ! But am I not to know 
 who yov, are ?" 
 
 " Assuredly not," was my answer : " and per- 
 haps you will find that my character is not quite 
 so much assumed as you have hitherto sup- 
 
 " This is ridiculous !" said Lady Cecilia haugh- 
 tily. " In the other room it was only proper and 
 suitable that you should play your part : but here 
 — where our interview seems to have a more 
 
 serious purpose " 
 
 " Serious it indeed is," I interrupted her ; " and 
 I have truly a warning to give you. But before I 
 enter upon this self-imposed task, I demand im- 
 plicit secrecy from your lips; — and even when 
 acting according to the counsel I shall give, I 
 trust to your ladyship's honour not to explain the 
 motives to whomsoever your actions may con- 
 cern." 
 
 " Do you know," said Lady Cecilia, again fixing 
 her regards most scrutinizingly upon me through 
 the holes of her mask, " that if you do not make 
 good your words and prove that you have veritably 
 a communication of moment to impart, I shall 
 consider that your conduct exceeds even the legi- 
 timate license of a masquerade, and that you are 
 trifling with me to the verge of an insult." 
 
 " But if, on the other hand," I said, '•' I do 
 make good my words, you will pledge yourself to 
 secrecy to the extent that I have already stipu- 
 lated ?" 
 
 " I pledge myself," replied Lady Cecilia. "And 
 now proceed." 
 
 " 1 have already hinted," I resumed, " that you 
 stand at the entrance of two diverging roads. The 
 public prints have announced that your inclina- 
 tions — and I am therefore to conceive that your 
 affections also, prompt your ladyship to take one 
 road— while, if you value your happiness, you will 
 take the other." 
 
 " Your reasons ? " asked Lady Cecilia, curtly 
 and coldly. 
 
 " I will mention certain names without dis- 
 guise," I responded. " The Earl of Carshalton's 
 son — Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe — is not a person 
 to ensure your felicity. He is hypocritical and 
 
 selfish " 
 
 " You have made assertions," interrupted Lady 
 Cecilia, with a cold and haughty incredulity, 
 " which are too serious to permit you any longer 
 to shield yourself behind that mask." 
 
 " I am no slanderer — no calumniatrix," I an- 
 swered proudly, but not forgetting to maintain 
 my assumed tone. " Listen, Lady Cecilia ! Not 
 many months have elapsed since the love of Lord 
 
 Frederick was bestowed upon another " 
 
 "And that perhaps was yourself P" she ex- 
 claimed scornfully. 
 
 "No," I rejoined with emphasis. "Can you 
 not distinguish between a poor and paltry vindic- 
 tiveness on the one hand, and the loftier purpose 
 of endeavouring to save you from a self sacrifice 
 on the other ?" 
 
 Lady Cecilia was visibly struck by these words 
 which had just fallen from my lips; and she said, 
 " Truly, if you should prove a friend, though a 
 disguised one, I should be grateful." 
 
 "Is there any possible test to which you could 
 put Lord Frederick," I asked, "so as to ascertain 
 whether his suit be founded on the selfish idea cf 
 
 possessing your fortune, or whether it bo based 
 upon a sincere love for yourself? If you can de- 
 vise such a test, I conjure you to practise it; and 
 you may then judge by the result whether you 
 have this night been addressed by the tongue of 
 infamous calumny, or whether the warning has 
 been given you from the best and purest mo- 
 tives." 
 
 Lady Cecilia reflected for a few moments ; 
 and then she said, " But why not treat me with 
 the fullest confidence ? If you require an oath, I 
 swear most sacredly that I will not betray what- 
 soever you may reveal to me. I will merely act 
 upon it." 
 
 " No — this I may not do," was my answer : 
 " there are reasons which so intimately regard 
 others that my lips must remain sealed in re- 
 spect to the circumstances that justify the warning 
 which I give you. But put that young nobleman 
 to the test, and if your ladyship will follow my 
 counsel, you will to the end of your days rejoice 
 in having paid attention to the words which have 
 now fallen from my lips." 
 
 " Yet you yourself must surely admit," she re- 
 joined, " that all this is too vague — too uncertain 
 — and too meagre, to destroy my confidence in one 
 who seems hitherto to have deserved it. Besides, 
 you have not made good your former words. You 
 have asserted everything and have proved no- 
 thing." 
 
 I could not blind myself to the truth of her 
 ladyship's observations : I reflected for a few mo- 
 ments : and I saw the absolute necessity of saying 
 something more. 
 
 "Remember, my lady," I continued, "you have 
 pledged yourself to secrecy in respect to what you 
 may now hear ; and you will simply act upon it, 
 without giving explanations." 
 
 " I have gone so far as to pledge myself to that 
 effect," replied Cecilia Urban ; " and I never tell 
 a falsehood," she added, drawing herself up to the 
 full of her commanding height. 
 
 " Then listen !" I said. " Lord Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe was but recently enamoured of an- 
 other ; and by the vilest stratagem he succeeded 
 in effecting her ruin. It was no ordinary case : 
 for it was done. Lady Cecilia, under the cover of a 
 
 mock marriage and I am acquainted with the 
 
 victim of that stupendous perfidy !" 
 
 " Then you must be the victim !" she said : and 
 in a moment she tore the mask from my face. 
 " What ! is it possible !" exclaimed Lady Cecilia, 
 with the haughtiest scorn : " the stage-actress at 
 the Duchess of Ardleigh's!" 
 
 "Madam," I said, my cheeks burning with in- 
 dignation, "you have performed an unhandsome 
 and a treacherous deed. But I will prove all that 
 I have said ; and you may yet have to thank the 
 stage-actress for preserving you from a marriage 
 that would assuredly result in unbappiness and 
 misery. Nay, more, madam — there is not an abso-- 
 lute certainty in respect to the law of that case to 
 which I just referred; and Lady Cecilia Urban 
 would die with shame if at any future period it 
 were proved that she had married without actually 
 becoming a wife." 
 
 The young lady was evidently bewildered how 
 to act ; and while she was plunged in anxious 
 thought, I took the mask from her unresisting 
 hand, and adjusted it over my countenance.
 
 ELLEN PERCT; OR. TUH MEMOIKS 01? AN ACTRESS. 
 
 153 
 
 MELI.SSA HARRISON. 
 
 * You say, Miss Trafford," she at length spoko 
 —and both her tone and manner were now con- 
 ci'.iatorj even to politeness, — " that you can prove 
 the truth of your words. Do this — and I shall 
 have reason to thank you. But be not surprised 
 to bear me now proclaim that if you fail 1 shall 
 regard you as a base ealumniatrix, anil 1 shall ex- 
 pose to the world the scene which has taken place 
 this night. Then farewell to the reputation 
 which Miss Trafford enjoys as a virtuous young 
 woman " 
 
 " If I fail to prove my words, Lady Cecilia," 
 I interrupted her, " fulfil your menaces to the 
 utmost extent. But do not now remain impressed 
 with the idea that it was of myself 1 bad spoken. 
 Heaven forbid that I should have become the 
 victim of that young nobleman's villany ! Who 
 that victim really is, you will not know: but the 
 fact of the villany itself shall be demonstrated 
 unto you. Write to a certain Mr. Croft, at St. 
 Wo. 20.— Ellen Fsect. 
 
 Omer in France ; and I know that the return ot 
 the post will bring his reply," »■ 
 
 " I will adopt your counsel, Miss Trafford," an- 
 swered Lady Cecilia. "But remember! — on the 
 one hand I can be grateful : on the other I can 
 prove a deadly enemy!" 
 
 " I accept the terms that you now suggest in such 
 extremes," was my answer. "And do you remem- 
 ber. Lady Cecilia, that you have solemnly pledged 
 yourself to secrecy.— There is one thing more I 
 would observe. I came hither expressly to give 
 you this warning: my object is accomplished— and 
 I am about to retire. You will oblige me by keep- 
 ing likewise the secret of my presence here." 
 
 "1 will do so," answered Lady Cecilia: then, 
 with a bow half condescending and half distant, 
 she issued from the room. 
 
 I remained behind for a few minutes in order to 
 
 assure myself that the hasty knot I had tied in the 
 
 I broken strings of my mask, held together firmly.
 
 154. 
 
 £IJi£ir PEBCT; OS, a'HE MEMOIBS Of AS ACTBESS. 
 
 For this purpose 1 took off the mask for a moment; 
 and fortunate it was iu one respect that 1 did so — 
 for otherwise the strint; would have assuredly 
 giveu way, and this might have been the case iu 
 the presence of those who would have recognised 
 imd exposed me. But unfortunate was the pro- 
 ceeding in another sense : for scarcely had I re- 
 fastened the string, when a masked countenance 
 peered round into mine, and a well-known voice 
 screeched forth, " Gracious goodness ! the actress ! 
 If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive " 
 
 And here she stopped short. It was indeed the 
 Countess of Mangold who had thus stolen upon me 
 unawares. Lady Cecilia must have left the door 
 ajar ; and as my back was towards it, I perceived 
 not the stealthy entrance of the old harridan. She 
 no doubt, observing an unmasked lady there, had 
 thought it a very fine thing to surprise me whoever 
 I might be ; and thus had she peeped round into 
 my face. I may observe that slae herself was 
 dressed as a Swiss Shepherdess— one of the most 
 'uveiiile costumes she could possibly have chosen — ■ 
 with a straw hat perched airily upon a wig which 
 descended into myriads of clustering ringlets — with 
 the bodice laced up — and with short petticoats. 
 Even though the vizard concealed her vrrinkled 
 face, it was by no means difficult to discern the 
 old woman beneath the costume of a youthful 
 maiden. The instant she stopped short I adressed 
 her. 
 
 " Tes, Lady Mangold," I said, (?almly and col- 
 lectedly, "it is I and I am not ignorant of 
 
 the malignant spite you cherish against me. But 
 you dare not breathe a syllable of this discovery — 
 no, not even to your niece the Duchess of Ardleigh. 
 Por if you do, I also can tell a tale! — and there 
 is a certain shopkeeper who, with a policeman at 
 his heels, may call upon you to demand the resto- 
 ration of the three pieces of lace !" 
 
 " Oh, heavens ! what does the girl mean ?" ex- 
 claimed Lady Mangold, throwing herself upon a 
 chair and using her kerchief as a fan. " I'm sure 
 I don't want to say anything to wrong you : but 
 if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive " 
 
 I waited to hear no more : but having re- 
 adjusted my mask securely upon my countenance, 
 I issued from the room — having not the slightest 
 apprehension in respect to the safety of my secret 
 with old Lady Mangold. 
 
 As I was about to return into the grand 
 saloon for a moment, to seek the Marquis of Dal- 
 rymple, I caught the sound of a well-known voice 
 just within the threshold;— and that voice was St. 
 Clair's. He was immediately answered by Lady 
 Lilla Essendine ; and I heard what they both said. 
 They were speaking in their natural tones, but in 
 a subdued manner. If the reader can comprehend 
 what I mean, the door was thrown completely 
 back against the wall, and they were standing 
 together close by it. My foot was upon the 
 threshold : but the massive sculptured framework 
 of the door concealed me from them. 
 
 " But what can be the meaning of such a cos- 
 tume as that ?" I heard St. Clair ask. " The white 
 rose too ! — Lilla, you must have intentionally or 
 inadvertently — maliciously or unguardedly " 
 
 " I tell you that I have not !" interjected her 
 ladyship " Though we are mortal enemies, Ed- 
 win " 
 
 *!No matter now!" he petulantly broke i«a. 
 
 "The past, Lilla, will at least sometimes render It; 
 needful that we should converse together. Who 
 can that Gipsy possibly be ? 1 have my suspicioa 
 — and yet it is barely possible " 
 
 " Try and accost her presently," said Lady Lilla. 
 "But it cannot be Ellen! What should she be 
 doing here ? Besides, she passed ua both without 
 recognition " 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," rejoined St. Clair. 
 " Can you swear to me, Lilla, that you never 
 breathed a syllable " 
 
 " I have already given you an assurance to that 
 effect. Do you think I am mad ? Implacable as 
 I may be towards you— and ever shall be, villain 
 that you are " 
 
 " Hush ! be not foolish !" interrupted St. Clair. 
 "That girl knows more than we suspect. Twice 
 has she baffled me by words frightfully signifi- 
 cant " 
 
 " Enough !" said Lady Lilla. " Your very pre- 
 sence is loathsome to me !" 
 
 My ears then caught a movement of persons 
 moving away from the vicinage of the door : I 
 held back for a few moments, and was about to 
 enter, when fortunately the Marquis of Dalrymple 
 himself made his appearance. 
 
 " Ah !" he said, " you have gained your object ? 
 I saw you leave the room with Lady Cecilia. 
 What can I now do for you ? If you will partake 
 of refreshments, they shall be served up to you — 
 alone — in some apartment " 
 
 " My lord," I replied, still adopting a feigned 
 voice, " I am about to take my departure; and I 
 was on the point of seeking your lordship to beg 
 your escort to the vehicle which brought mo 
 hither. I ordered it to return punctually at mid- 
 night ; and the driver will answer to the questiou 
 whether Miss Smith's carriage is waiting ?" 
 
 The young Marquis immediately gave mo his 
 arm, and conducted me down-stairs. We traversed 
 the hall : he made a sign for the servants who 
 were officiously pressing forward, to stand back ; 
 and he himself issued forth to order up my equi- 
 page. This was the work of but a few moments, 
 for no other vehicle had as yet arrived to convey 
 the guests away. He handed me in — bowed — and 
 at once retreated into the mansion, evidently that 
 he might not seem to linger for the purpose of 
 overhearing any instructions that I could possibly 
 have to give to the coachman. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 lADX MACBETH. 
 
 Thus terminated my masquerading adventures at 
 Ardleigh House, I was not altogether dissatisfied 
 at the result of my interview with Lady Cecilia 
 Urban — though the task had proved a more diffi- 
 cult one than I had anticipated, and though I had 
 little foreseen that my identity would become re- 
 vealed to her. I felt assured that the object 
 would be gained, and that she would take htr 
 measures accordingly, without proving faithless to 
 the vow that she had so solemnly pledged. But 
 there was another topic which agitated in my 
 thoughts ; and this was the conversation I had over- 
 beard between Edwin St. Clair and Lady Lilla
 
 ELLEN PEECY; OR, THH MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 155 
 
 Bisenriine. That her ladyship had been St. Clair's 
 victim — that she was the authoress of that letter 
 which I had found at his house, I had no longer a 
 scintillation of doubt : for there was evidently a 
 mysterious and terrible connexion between those 
 two, — the bond formed by the consciousness and 
 complicity of some crime of which the white rose 
 was unquestionably the symbol. Lady Lilla Es- 
 Bendine had evidently deceived St. Clair in one 
 respect : she had denied that she had ever given 
 me the slightest hint or information in respect to 
 the use of that emblem. St. Clair was bewildered 
 to conjecture how I could possibly have known 
 anything on the subject : but although Lady Lilla 
 iEssendine could, if she had chosen, have acquainted 
 him how it was I had in the first instance pre- 
 sented him the flower, — yet she herself must now 
 be doubtless at a loss to surmise how I could have 
 attained that farther clue to the mystery of the 
 floral emblem which had enabled me to give utter- 
 ance to the words that were really suggested to me 
 by the gipsy Zarah. I was glad that I had escaped 
 from Ardleigh House before St. Clair had an op- 
 portunity of addressing me : for with his shrewd- 
 ness, and with a slight suspicion already float- 
 ing in his mind, he could not have failed to pene- 
 trate through the disguise of garments and the 
 simulation of voice. As he had not therefore suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining speech with me at the mas- 
 querade, I thought it by no means improbable that 
 Lady Lilla Essendine would call upon me in the 
 course of a day or two, in the hope perhaps of 
 being made the confidante of my secrets. 
 
 I returned to Hunter Street, and found the 
 Normans sitting up to receive me. Without en- 
 tering into those particulars which would have 
 compelled me to mention the name of Mr. Croft 
 and the reference which was to be made to him by 
 Lady Cecilia Urban, I told them sufiicient to show 
 that her ladyship was already more than half- 
 prepared to break off her contpmplated alliance 
 with Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ; and that she 
 purposed to put his sincerity to some test that 
 would doubtless bring matters to the termination 
 which we all desired. 
 
 On the following day I wrote to my father, tell- 
 ing him that he might expect a letter from Lady 
 Cecilia Urban, and begging him to. answer it in a 
 manner that should not compromise the name of 
 Juliet Norman. In the evening of that day I was 
 to perform the character of Lady Macbeth ; and it 
 was one to which I had devoted particular study. 
 I had before enacted the part of that dread heroine 
 of one of Shakspere's most powerful dramas ; and 
 the newspaper critics had flattered me with the 
 highest encomia. There were always crowded 
 audiences on the nights of my appearance: but 
 upon this particular occasion the theatre was lite- 
 rally filled to overflowing. My reception was well 
 calculated to inspire me with all the energy suffi- 
 cient for that awful personification which I had to 
 accomplish : but I need not tell the reader that it 
 is in the first Scene of the last Act where the 
 tragic actress may produce the most awe-inspiring 
 efit'ct. It is that scene where Lady Macbeth, 
 goaded by the remorse of conscience, rises from 
 the couch, takes the taper in her hand, and wanders 
 as a somnambulist, A Physician and a Gentle- 
 woman attached to the person of Lady Macbeth, 
 watch her movements. The most perfect command 
 
 L 
 
 of countenance is required by the actress to give 
 effect to this scene: for be it remembered that 
 though Lady Macbeth's "eyes are open," yet 
 " their setise is shut." Apparelled as if I had 
 merely thrown on a loose wrapper on rising from 
 my couch — with naked feet, and hair all dishevelled 
 — carrying the taper in my hand, I appeared upon 
 the partially darkened stage. During the intervals 
 when the " aside " colloquy of the Physician and 
 the Gentlewoman ceased — and before I began 
 giving utterance to the words of a terrific remorse 
 acting upon the ever wakeful conscience of one 
 who physically was asleep— a pin might have been 
 heard to drop, so stupendous was the silence. 
 There was evidently a solemnly awful and sus- 
 penseful feeling en the part of the entire audience. 
 Then my voice rose upon that silence ; and I spoke 
 the following words : — 
 
 "Out, damned spot! out, I say! — One; Two! 
 
 Why, then 'tis time to do't : Hell is murky 1— 
 
 Fye, my lord, fye ! a soldier and afeard ? What 
 need wo fear who knows it, when none can call 
 our power to account ? — Yet who would have 
 thought the old man to have so much blood in 
 'him ?" 
 
 This speech— though brief, still so full of dark 
 and terrible meaning — was scarcely concluded, 
 when a shriek rang through the immense theatre ; 
 and there was immediately a movement and agita- 
 tion in one of the side-boxes. Some one had evi- 
 dently fainted and was being borne forth by those 
 who were nearest to her. Others stood up in the 
 front seat; and thus I could not see who the lady 
 was — for it was a female voice which had sent 
 forth that rending scream. For a minute or two 
 an universal sensation prevailed ; but as it was 
 one of those incidents which occasionally occur at 
 theatres, where the nervous feeling of an individual 
 may be powerfully acted upon by the incidents 
 represented on the stage, that sensation soon sub- 
 sided, and the tragedy continued to the end. 
 
 When the drama was over, I sought Mr. 
 Richards to make inquiries concerning the lady 
 who had been so powerfully affected ; for I knew 
 that he could not have failed to interest himself 
 under such circumstances. 
 
 "Her ladyship speedily recovered," answered 
 the lessee, " and was conducted to her equipage, 
 which was in attendance. It seems that her lady- 
 ship has recently been an invalid ; and it is one of 
 the highest compliments to your genius, Miss 
 
 Trafford " 
 
 " But who is this lady of whom you are speak- 
 ing ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Ah, her name ! — I forgot tp mention it," said 
 Mr. Richards. " It is a singular one — but pretty 
 
 and poetical Lady Lilla Essendine." 
 
 An ejaculation was about to burst from iny lips: 
 but I checked it, and hastening away, retired to 
 my dressing-room. I was shocked at the an- 
 nouncement which had just reached my ears. At 
 first I had fancied that it was merely the vivid 
 portraiture of Shakspere's creation which baa 
 produced that overpowering effect upon some 
 lady of weak nerves, but whose own mind could 
 have no more association with the realities of 
 crime than the reader has with the woos of a 
 heroine depicted in a novel which draws tears 
 from his eyes. But that it should have been Liidy 
 Lilla whose naturally strong mind thus tempo-
 
 rarilv gave way AU ! I shuddered throughout 
 
 my entire being as I thought it was indeed the 
 consciousness of some crime which under the in- 
 fluence of that vivid personification of guilt itself 
 Lad sent forth a cry of most real agor.y ! 
 
 On returning to Hunter Street, the incident 
 was discussed by tho Normans : but I said not a 
 syllable to throw any light on the occurrence— or 
 rather I should perhaps say, to alter the impres- 
 Bion which they held in respect to it. The news- 
 papers of the following morning, while lavishing 
 the most flattering eulogies upon my performance, 
 mentioned the incident, — without however pa- 
 rading the lady's name,— as a proof of the power- 
 ful effect which my personification of Lady Mac- 
 beth was calculated to produce upon the mind. 
 The occurrence added immensely to my popularity; 
 and in the course of that day I received several 
 billets from ladies of the highest rank, entreating 
 me to appear again as Lady Macbeth on the next 
 night of my performance. 
 
 But I have now to speak of another incident. 
 Nine or ten months had elapsed since I had 
 visited Colonel Bellow's house on behalf of Me- 
 lissa Harrison. As tho reader is aware, the result 
 of that visit was unproductive of any benefit for 
 the poor young woman. Almost immediately 
 afterwartls I myself had entered upon that dra- 
 matic career which was at once to be stamped with 
 success, and which was to place me in a position 
 of pecuniary independence. Melissa was then ex- 
 ceedingly ill ; and her medical attendant had given 
 her to understand that she must never again ap- 
 pear upon the stage to exercise her vocation as a 
 dansense. When she began to grow somewhat 
 better, I insisted that she should repair to a 
 watering-place, " where the bracing saline breeze 
 would contribute to her recovery." It was thus 
 that I spoke in encouraging terms — not however 
 in my own heart daring to hope that her health 
 would ever be completely restored. It was with 
 the greatest difficulty I had succeeded in forcing 
 upon Melissa the funds requisite for her excursion : 
 but at length she yielded ; and for several months 
 she remained at the sea side. She then returned to 
 London ; and a marvellous change had taken place 
 in her. The colour had come back to her cheeks : 
 the blueish circles which the hand of death itself 
 had some while back appeared to have traced round 
 the eyes, were completely gone : her figure had re- 
 gained its robustness ; she looked far better and 
 handsomer than on the first day I had ever seen 
 her. She spoke of returning to the stage : but I 
 besought her not to imperil by such a step this 
 really marvellous restoration to health. She yielded 
 to my intercessions — but declared that she would 
 seek fur some means of honourable subsistence, as 
 she was resolved not to continue a burden upon 
 my resources. I bade her continue to nur.-e her- 
 self for a short time longer, until we had time to 
 talk over the plans that might best suit her views ; 
 and thus I succeeded in making her pass the 
 severest of the winter months without again start- 
 ing the project of a return to the stage. 
 
 These episodical explanations in respect to Me- 
 lissa Harrison, again bring me down to the date 
 which the progress of my own narrative had 
 reached. It was on the day after the incident at 
 the theatre, when I peiforraed Lady Macbeth, 
 that I received a note from Melissa, begging me 
 
 to call upon her. I accordingly repaired to her 
 lodgings; and she rtCL'ived me with her wonted 
 affectionate and grateful welcome, 
 
 " Sit down, my dear friend," she said ; " for I 
 am going to tax your patience for a brief space, 
 while I converse with you upon my own affairs." 
 
 " I regret, my dear Melissa," I answered, " that 
 I should not as yet have beeu enabled to suggest 
 any moans " 
 
 " Suffer me to speak, dear Ellen !" interrupted 
 Melissa, but with a tone and look full of kindness. 
 " I have been thinking much — I may even say 
 continuously, upon the circumstances in which I 
 am placed. For many months I have been depen- 
 dent entirely upon your bounty " 
 
 "Call it not bounty, Melissa," I said: "it was 
 friendship. I have only done for you that which 
 I am convinced you would have done for me, had 
 our circumstances been reversed." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! You only do me justice, Ellen," ex- 
 claimed Miss Harrison, " though your observation 
 is most kind ! But I cannot bear to continue eat- 
 ing the bread which is given to me by a friendship 
 even so pure and sweet as yours. Besides, it is 
 not only bread for me that you have given — but 
 bread likewise for tny child — my little Me- 
 lissa—^'' 
 
 " You know that I am well off," I answered ; 
 " and of what avail is it to be prosperous, unless 
 with the gold thus earned good is done towards 
 one's fellow. creatures ?" 
 
 " I know, Ellen, that all your sentiments are of 
 the noblest character," replied Melissa ; "and no 
 one more than myself rejoices in your prosperity. 
 But I beseech you to listen to me ! I am resolved 
 henceforth to eat the bread of mine own industry. 
 I have thought of taking in needle-work : but that 
 would be to toil as a slave, for a slave's pittance ; 
 — and besides, confinement to a close heated room 
 would speedily fling me back upon a bed of sick- 
 ness. For a preceptress I am unfitted: I have not 
 the requisite accomplishments; — and besides, who 
 would entrust their children to the care of one 
 who was recently a ballet-dancer ? Then, what 
 alternative have I but to return to the stage? 
 My health is completely restored : my life has 
 been saved, Ellen, by your kindness. Disease had 
 not fastened so completely upon me as to be be- 
 yond cure : tho ignorance of a medical adviser, 
 and my own desponding feelings at the time, con- 
 jured up phantoms which have since been dis- 
 pelled. Do not therefore, my dear friend, argue 
 against the resolve which I have taken! — suffer 
 me to return to the stage ! It is an avocation 
 which leaves me leisure to breathe the fresh air 
 out of doors, and take tho exercise that will sus- 
 tain me in health." 
 
 I did however essay to dissuade Melissa from 
 her purpose : but it was all in vain. Her resolu- 
 tion was fixed ; and I was compelled to drop the 
 argument. 
 
 " Would it be indiscreet," asked Melissa, when 
 a turn was given to the conversation, " to inquire 
 whether there be any chance of our friend Juliet 
 likewise returning to the stage ? You know that 
 I have kept myself in such perfect seclusion since 
 my return from the sea-side — I have visited no 
 one, and received no visits except from yourself— 
 and thus I have beou as it were allogathor out of 
 the world. I remember there was a rumour soma
 
 five or six months ago, to the effect tliat a wealthy 
 relation of the Normans had suddenly conde- 
 scended to notice them ; and Juliet, I believe, went 
 on a visit to her. But has she any prospect of in- 
 heriting that relative's riches P I sincerely hope 
 so!" 
 
 The reader will recollect that the report to 
 which Melissa alluded, had been purposely spread 
 by the Normans at the time in order to account 
 for Juliet's absence on the honeymoon of her sup- 
 posed marriage. I did not now choose to state 
 that the whole was a falsehood : neither would I 
 lend myself to the sustenance or propagation of 
 the untruth. My response was therefore guarded, 
 but delivered with an air of frankness. 
 
 " It is perfectly true," I said, " that the Nor- 
 mans possess a wealthy relative — a Mrs. Oldcastle 
 — at Dover : but I am afraid that they have little 
 prospect of inheriting wealth in that quarter. 
 Therefore, if their hopes should be deceived, Juliet 
 will doubtless in time return to the stage." 
 
 "And all that love-affair with Lord Frederick 
 liavenscliffe," continued Melissa, " is broken off 
 long ago ? Did I not prophesy, Ellen, that it 
 would turn to deception or disappointment for 
 poor Juliet ? I long to see her ! She must think 
 it unkind that I have remained for so many 
 months away from the house : but as you a&d 
 charged me not to mention to a soul that I have 
 received anything from your purse, I purposely 
 abstained from visiting that house where the very 
 first thing my feelings of gratitude would prompt 
 me to proclaim is the immensity of the obligation 
 I owe to you." 
 
 " Now that you are about to return to the 
 stage," I answered, "you will again be thrown in 
 the way of the Normans and of your other friends. 
 But it is utterly needless, Melissa, for you to 
 speak of the little services which I have been so 
 rejoiced to render you." 
 
 "To-morrow evening, dearest Ellen, we shall 
 meet at the theatre," said Miss Harrison, with a 
 smile deprecatory of any fresh remonstrance or 
 reproach on my part : " for to tell you the truth, 
 I have already communicated with Mr. Bichards; 
 and he is delighted to have me back again. It 
 just happened that he required a le&ding figurante 
 for his new ballet; and I am to have the situation, 
 with a liberal salary." 
 
 I now took leave of Melissa, and returned to 
 Hunter Street, — where, on my arrival, I found 
 Lady Lilla Essendine's equipage waiting at tho 
 front door. The servant informed me that her 
 ladyship was in the drawing-room, and that as my 
 speedy return home was expected, she had re- 
 mained to see me. I had foreseen this visit — but 
 was annoyed that it should now be paid. I loathed 
 Lady Lilla Essendine : her exquisite beauty and 
 ber seeming amiabilities were to my view a mask 
 concealing the hideousness and the venom of a 
 reptile. As for all her former kindnesses towards 
 xne, I heartily wished that they had never been 
 shown ; and as for the presents I had received 
 from her, I was most anxious for a pretext to re- 
 turn them. Conscious that I had a difficult part 
 to play — and scarcely knowing how I should per- 
 form it — I proceeded to the drawing-room, where 
 I found her alone ; for be it recollected that she 
 had not sought the acquaintance of the Normans. 
 
 Lady Lilla started up from her seat with her 
 
 wonted air of cordial friendliness : but avoiding the 
 hand which I feared was stained with crime, I 
 passed on in such a way as to place the centre- 
 table between us; and with a cold look sat down. 
 
 I " Good heavens, Ellen 1" she exclaimed, with an 
 
 I air of astonishment, " what means this reserve 
 
 j towards me ? — how can I possibly have offended 
 
 i you?" 
 
 I " One who is in any way leagued with Captaia 
 
 j St. Clair," I responded, " cannot possibly be a, 
 
 I welcome visitress to me." 
 
 j Lady Lilla became ghastly pale ; and she trem- 
 bled from head to foot : but almost immediately 
 
 . recovering her self-possession, she said, " I leagued 
 with Edwin St. Clair ! What mean you, Miss 
 
 I Percy ?" — and she looked indignant. 
 
 I " I do not pretend to know everything," I 
 
 I answered : " but this I am aware of — that despite 
 
 . the enmity which exists between you, there is in 
 some sense a terrible identity of interests. The 
 
 . symbol at which St. Clair trembled, when pre- 
 sented by my hand, had a talismanic power for 
 Lady Lilla Essendine when sent from the hand of 
 a gipsy ; and no doubt the words which lately 
 
 i overawed that unprincipled man, would have tho 
 same effect upon her ladyship !" 
 
 j "Ellen, what mean you ?" exclaimed Lady Lilla, 
 much excited and agitated. " Give me your con- 
 
 I fidence ! I have a right to demand it 1 Tell me 
 what new things have come to your knowledge — 
 
 and I will speedily explain " 
 
 " Ob, Lady Lilla !" I ejaculated, " how can you 
 explain that which, I fear, would only incriminate 
 yourself ? Ask me no more ! I will say nothing 
 
 unless it be to bid you look down deep into 
 
 your own conscience " 
 
 " Ellen !" ejaculated Lilla, " I insist upon ex-i 
 planations !" — and so altered was her voice from 
 its wonted silver clearnees — so hoarse and gasping 
 was it — so distorted too was that countenance 
 whose natural beauty was so surpassing and so 
 exquisite, that for an instant I was affrighted. 
 " Yes," she continued, growing more vehement as 
 she fancied that she overawed me; "our meeting 
 shall not terminate thus ! There has hitherto 
 existed confidence between us ; and it shall not be 
 suspended now ! What enemy has been at work 
 to prejudice you against me — to fill your mind 
 with suspicions — I know not what ? Speak, Ellen I 
 speak ! I arijure — I command you!" 
 
 " No, Lady Lilla," I exclaimed : " I am not to 
 be ruled by your imperious sway. I mean you no 
 harm : but our friendship is at an end ! Your own 
 demeanour now would justify that decision on my 
 part, even if nothing else did ! I repeat, I mean 
 
 you no harm " 
 
 "Ellen!" interrupted Lady Lilla, "not to be 
 my friend, is to be my enemy ! Beware how you 
 provoke me ! I know a secret connected with 
 
 yourself " 
 
 "Ah!" I cried, instantaneously comprehending 
 the allusion : "then this is another proof of your 
 complete understanding in many respects with St. 
 Clair. You know that I have a father and that 
 he is unfortunate : but beware. Lady Lilla, how 
 you seek by any means to heap additional calami- 
 ties on his head ! For if by even a whispered 
 word or a stealthy deed you do aught that shall 
 mililate against his security or peace of mind, I 
 will not hesitate, Lady Lilla, to wreak a most ter-
 
 158 
 
 ELLEIf PEKCT; ok, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 rible vengeance! I will give to the world a cer- 
 tain letter— a letter which perhaps you little 
 imagine to be in existence — but which is never- 
 theless in my possession!" 
 
 Lady Lilla Essendine staggered, and would have 
 fallen had she not caught at the back of a chair. 
 Her countenance became as ghastly as that of a 
 corpse : her lips were livid : her eyes stared upon 
 me with an expression of dismay and consterna- 
 tion. I was glad that circumstances had put me 
 in possession of the means of overawing a woman 
 from whose countenance the mask was now torn 
 away, and who stood revealed to me in all the 
 blackness of her natural character. 
 
 "Ellen, that letter?" she at length said, in a 
 low hoarse voice : and she advanced a pace or two 
 
 towards me : " that letter, Eilen how came it 
 
 in your possession ?" 
 
 I was on the point of cutting short the colloquy, 
 —when thinking that it would be better to make 
 the blow which I had just stricken as decisive as 
 possible, I resolved to give some little explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " The machinations of the wicked," I answered, 
 " are often turned by the hand of providence into 
 weapons against themselves. Had St. Clair never 
 carried me off to his house, I should not have 
 found that letter in the drawer of a toilet-table at 
 that dwelling. Such however was the fact; — and 
 the letter was written by you. Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine ! Again I bid you look down into your own 
 conscience — and you will there read in imperish- 
 able letters the crimes to which those burning, 
 half- frenzied lines of your's bore such awful allu- 
 sion ! And, Oh ! that scream which last night 
 pealed from your lips! — it was the involuntary 
 and irresistible expression of a guilty conscience 
 in its agonies ! Now I have said enough. If 
 you be acquainted with a secret of mine, you per- 
 ceive that I have a terrible knowledge of a secret 
 of your's !" 
 
 " For heaven's sake spare me, Ellen !" said 
 Lady Lilla, making a movement as if she would 
 8 nk on her knees before me; while indescribable 
 were the workings of horror, anguish, and dismay 
 upon her countenance. " Give me that letter — I 
 implore you to give it to me! There shall be 
 peace between us — <— " 
 
 " I keep that letter, my lady," I answered, " as 
 a guarantee of peace 1 Edwin St. Clair has al- 
 ready on many occasions proved himself my 
 enemy ; and you. Lady Lilla, just now threat- 
 ened to become so. Think you, then, that under 
 Buch circumstances I will part from that document 
 which henceforth to me shall serve as a weapon 
 alike defensive and offensive? No, Lady Lilla ! — 
 circumstances compel me to retain it!" 
 
 " Ah ! is it so ?" was the low but quickly uttered 
 ejaculation which fell fro a her ladyship's lips; and 
 at the same instant I caught the changing expres- 
 sion of her countenance: for quick as the light- 
 ning-flasb, it altered from an air of anguish and 
 dismay to one of resolute and fiend-like wicked- 
 ness. 
 
 What then passed was likewise the work of an 
 instant: for Lady Liila Essendine, thrusting her 
 hand beneath the folds of her scarf, drew forth a 
 white artificial flower ; and with one pace forward 
 — or rather with a sort of spring— she applied it 
 to my nostrils. There was a momentary sensation 
 
 of dizziness, — the room appearing to whirl round; 
 and I fell down deprived of consciousness. 
 
 I subsequently knew by a reference to the time- 
 piece that I must have been about a quarter of an 
 hour in a dead swoon, before I began to awaken 
 from my insensibility. Then for some minutes 
 tiiere was a sensation as if I were slowly arousing 
 ' from a troubled dream — experiencing an impos- 
 sibility to separate the real from the unreal, and 
 I to extricate my thoughts from the half-numbed 
 i confusion into which they had been thrown. I 
 I felt an exceeding heaviness in the head — a con- 
 I tinued dizziness of the brain— a half-suffocating 
 I sensation, as if I had awakened from a trance to 
 find myself buried in a coffin. At length I raised 
 j myself painfully ; and there being some perfume 
 in a smelling-bottle upon the table, I poured a 
 quantity on my kerchief, and therewith bathed my 
 forehead. The relief I experienced was instanta- 
 neously great; and considerably strengthened, I 
 passed into the back drawing-room, the window of 
 which I opened. The cold breeze of February 
 fanned my countenance, affording still greater re- 
 lief. In a few minutes I was completely restored, 
 with the exception of a slight headache, — which 
 however soon passed away. 
 
 As I hastily reflected upon all that had taken 
 place, the thought struck me that Lady Lilla Es- 
 sendine had purposely thrown me into a swoon 
 that she might visit my chamber and ransack my 
 writing-desk in the hope of finding the document 
 which I had refused to surrender up. I therefore 
 hastened to my bed-room : but nothing was there 
 disturbed. I looked in the desk, and found that 
 fragment of a letter which I had brought with me 
 from St. Clair's house ; it was quite safe, in a secret 
 drawer where I had deposited it. On making 
 this discovery, which was so contrary to my expec- 
 tations, I was at first bewildered — until a fearful 
 suspicion began stealing into my mind. As I re- 
 flected upon everything that had just taken place, 
 past incidents came trooping into my memory— 
 until at length, shuddering and appalled, I was 
 brought to the horrible conviction that it was no 
 temporary swoon into which that fiend-like woman 
 had sought to throw me— but that it was the 
 eternal sleep of death into which she had purposed 
 to plunge me ! 
 
 Yes — there could be no doubt of it !— it was a 
 murder that she had attempted ! Ah, did I not 
 now comprehend full well what was meant by 
 smelling the white rose and sleeping the sleep of 
 death ? St. Clair was a murderer : Lilla Essen- 
 dine was a murderess ! But who had been their 
 victim ? I had my suspicion : but of that no 
 matter now. Ob, no wonder that a white rose was 
 fraught with such terrific magical power for both ! 
 —for a deadly venom had been infused into that 
 flower by which their victim's life was taken some 
 while back, and by which within the passing hour, 
 the murderess had sought to take my own! But 
 I have said that incidents of the past were now 
 brought freshly back to my mind. Could I fail to 
 recollect that phial in the filagree case, which I 
 had seen on Lady Lilla's mantelpiece in the 
 chamber at Claremont Villa ? Did I not remem- 
 ber how it had been dashed from my hand — by the 
 accident of a convulsive movement, as I thought 
 at the time— but by the horrifying and startling 
 dread of becoming the victim of her own subtle
 
 BULBN PERCY J OS, THE IklEMOIKS OF AIT ACTEESS. 
 
 159 
 
 poison, as I now full well comprehended ! No 
 wonder that on that occasion she should have been 
 in sufii a hurry to have the broken glass swept up 
 and the fluid dried from off the carpet with a 
 brush !— and no wonder that her pet spaniel should 
 liave been found dead under her bed ; for doubt- 
 less the poor animal had lapped up the poison with 
 its toonue aud had thus been stricken down life- 
 less. Oh ! my mind had now a horrible clearness ; 
 and I read as with the ghastly glare of the 
 lightning-flashes, the tremendous secrets and mys- 
 teries that pertained to the dark career of Edwin 
 St. Clair aud Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 
 It was only too evident likewise that the gipsies 
 must to a certain extent be conscious of those 
 crimes : they must at least be acquainted with the 
 secret of the white rose impregnated with a deadly 
 venom. But how had I escaped with my life? 
 Oh ! I shuddered from head to foot as I thought 
 of the fearful danger that I must have passed 
 through — the stupendous peril that I must have 
 escaped. And I failed not to send up from the 
 depths of my heart a prayer of thanksgiving unto 
 Leaven for thus having saved me 1 
 
 But how had I been saved ? "Was it that the 
 artificial flower was too little impregnated with 
 the poison to prove entirely fatal ? — was it that the 
 flower had not been held long enough to my nos- 
 trils to work its deadliest eff'ect ?— or was there 
 some resisting power in the strength of my consti- 
 tution ? Methought that perhaps the real truth 
 might be found in the blending of all these hypo- 
 theses: but however it might be, I did not shudder 
 the less coldly when thinking of what I had gone 
 through — nor was my gratitude the less fervid for 
 the escape I had experienced. 
 
 It was clear enough that Lady Lilla Essendine 
 had fancied the work of murder to be effectually 
 done, and that she had quitted the house without 
 exciting any suspicion that she was leaving it 
 ui'der any other circumstances than those of an 
 ordinary character. Doubtless, if her diabolic plan 
 had succeeded, my death would have been attri- 
 buted to apoplexy or the sudden visitation of G-od ; 
 and perhaps Lady Lilla would have come forsvard 
 at the inquest to declare that she had left me a 
 few minutes previously in perfect health and in 
 my usual spirits. Oh, what a fieud was that 
 woman ! But amidst my meditations I likewise 
 reflected it was clear no one had entered the 
 drawing-room while I remained in a swoon after 
 Lilla's departure. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were out ; 
 and Julid was in her own chamber. Thus the en- 
 tire incident was known but to Lady Lilla and 
 myself; and beneath a roof where passers-by sus- 
 pected not at the moment that any thing uausual 
 was taking place, a most stupendous crime had been 
 all but perpetrated. 
 
 I remained for some time giving way to my 
 thoughts in the solitude of my own chamber. 
 What course should I adopt ? Should I tell every 
 thing to my friends, and proceed with them to a 
 magistrate to invoke the aid of the law against the 
 woman who had attempted my life ? No : for from 
 this course I was withheld by several considera- 
 tions. In the first place, it would be necessary 
 that I should frankly reveal all St. Clair's past 
 couduct towards me ; aud a sense of modesty — 
 almost amounting to shame — disinclined me to 
 produim to the world how I had jjasscd an entire 
 
 night on one occasion, and a portion of another on 
 a second occasion, beneath the roof of that liber- 
 tine's dwelling. Again, I reflected that if I 
 assumed the attitude of an open enemy in respect 
 to Lady Lilla — thereby at the s^me time impli- 
 cating St. Clair — they in their vindictive despera- 
 tion would proclaim the terrible secrets connected 
 with my father ; aud though be had found a safe 
 asylum in France, yet would an intolerable odium 
 and a withering disgrace overtake him there. 
 Lastly, I thought that the whole story in respect 
 to the poisoned flower — particularly the attempt 
 just made upon my own life — would be looked 
 upon as so incredible— especially when the distin- 
 guished social positions of Captain St. Clair and 
 Lady Lilla Essendine were taken into considera- 
 tion, — that not merely the magistrate, but likewise 
 the whole world, would set me down as the victim 
 of an extraordinary hallucination. Thus, every 
 thing duly weighed, I determined to add the new 
 incident to the stock of those secrets which my 
 mind already harboured. 
 
 My resolve being thus taken, I made a package 
 of the various presents I had received from Lady 
 Lilla Essendine ; and I despatched the parcel at 
 once by a messenger to her ladyship's abode in the 
 neighbourhood of the Kegent's Park. I sent there- 
 with no letter: I preferred that the intelligence 
 of the failure of her diabolic scheme should reach 
 her through the simple medium of the restoration 
 of those articles. What her wonderment and her 
 alarm must have been when the packet was deli- 
 vered into her hands, I must leave my readers to 
 conjecture : for I myself was left only to bare sur- 
 mise upon the point. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 A STBANGE TISITBESa. 
 
 Os the evening of the following day, I reappeared 
 as Lady Macbeth ; and in the ballet which con- 
 cluded the performances, Melissa Harrison took 
 the leading part. When Juliet was engaged at 
 the theatre, Melissa was second only to her as Q. 
 danseuse s and now she was without either a 
 superior or an equal. She was a favourite with 
 the public ; and her reappearance after so long a 
 secession was welcomed with much applause. In- 
 deed, she danced almirablyj and as I have already 
 hinted, she looked handsomer than ever. She 
 seemed to be in the enjoyment of the most vigo- 
 rous health : the fancy-costume whijh she wore, 
 set-off her fine, tall, well-developed shape to the 
 utmost advantage ; and thus she was certain to 
 obtain the plaudits of all the male beholders. Her 
 triumph was complete ; and I was infinitely re- 
 joiced : for inasmuch as her resolve of returning 
 to the stage had been carried out, all that I could 
 now wish her was the ability to command a hand- 
 some remuneration from Mr. Richards' treasury. 
 
 Juliet was at the theatre, in one of the stage- 
 boxes ; and I had waited on this occasion to wit- 
 ness the ballet, though my usual custom was to 
 return home immediately after the performance of 
 my own part, Juliet came to my room when the 
 curtain fell ; and warm were the greetings which 
 took place between herself and Miss Harrison. 
 Presently Mr, and Mrs. Norman joined us ; and
 
 IGO 
 
 ELLEN PEHCT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AS ACTRESS. 
 
 tbat kind hearted couple insisted that Melissa 
 f'aould accompany us home to supper. She could 
 not refuse; and thus we all five crowded ourselves 
 into the carriage as best wo could. 
 
 It was about half-past eleven o'clock when we 
 reached Hunter Street; and the moment the car- 
 riage stopped at the door, the footman (who had 
 not f.ccompanied it) came forth; for he had a piece 
 of intelligence to announce. 
 
 "If you please, sir," he said, " a lady is waiting 
 to see you." 
 
 " To see us all, you mean ?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Norman, fancying that it must be some regular 
 visitress at the house. "But who is she ? 
 
 " I do not know," answered the footman ; " for 
 the lady would give no name. She came at about 
 eight o'clock — I said you were all gone to the 
 theatre— and she declared that she would wait. I 
 told her that it might be late when you returned 
 —than you would then have supper " 
 
 ""^ell, well," interrupted Mr. iXorman, some- 
 what impatiently. 
 
 " The lady then said, sir, that she would wait 
 for supper. She asked in which room the family 
 usually supped ; and when I told her, she walked 
 straight in— sat herself down — and I don't think 
 she has ever once moved from her chair for more 
 than three hours." 
 
 " This is most singular !" said Mr. Norman, in 
 a tone of bewilderment. " But what sort of a 
 person " 
 
 "Dear me!" interrupted Mrs. Norman ; "had 
 we not better get out and see ? Here we are, 
 sitting as crowded as possible ■" 
 
 " I am afraid I have been one too many," ex- 
 claimed Melissa, tripping lightly out of the car- 
 riage. 
 
 " By no means, my dear girl 1" answered Mrs. 
 Norman ; " and you shall not be disappointed of 
 your supper— nor we of your society — for all the 
 strange visitresses in the world. Come, let us go 
 in." 
 
 We descended from the carriage. Juliet, Me- 
 lissa, and myself would have retired to another 
 room, while Mr. and Mrs. Norman proceeded to 
 ascertain who was the unknown friend : but they 
 would not consent to such a proceeding. We there- 
 fore hastily threw off our bonnets and shawls in 
 the breakfast-parlour ; and we then followed Mr. 
 Norman to the dining-rootD, where the table was 
 spread for supper. I believe that we were all 
 more or less inspired with curiosity as to who the 
 visitress could b« ; while no one entertained the 
 slightest suspicion of the actual truth. 
 
 As we entered the dining-room in a body, we 
 beheld an old dame, with a sallow wrinkled coun- 
 tenance, fixed penetrating eyes, and a mouth 
 pursed up in a manner that gave a cross, ill- 
 natured, almost spiteful expression to the whole 
 face. Though she remained seated— (and she sat 
 as upright, too, as if she were a wooden effigy 
 without the least suppleness in her body) — it was 
 easy to perceive that she was tall, gaunt, and ex- 
 cessively thin. She wore a black silk gown — a 
 large old fashioned shawl of a quiet pattern — and 
 an immense black bonnet, shaped like a coal- 
 scuttle, and looking very much like one. Her 
 kerchief peeped out of a somewhat capacious bag 
 or reticule, which was slung by its strings over her 
 left wrist : she had taken ofi' her gloves : and her 
 
 withered hands were half concealed by a pair of 
 thick worsted mittens. Her age could not bo less 
 than sixty, — though a black false front concealed 
 the silver of her hair. 
 
 Such was the sort of apparition that met the 
 view of us all as we entered the room. For more 
 than three mortal hours had she remained there 
 in her bonnet and shawl ; so that it seemed as if 
 she had been determined to wait for us, no matter 
 at what hour we might have returned home. She 
 did not rise from her seat on our entrance — but 
 slowly turned round and fixed her penetrating 
 eyes upon us, as if to embrace us all at once with 
 the range of that scrutinising survey, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman advanced a few paces, and then stopped 
 short — much embarrassed : for they naturally 
 deemed it singular that the lady did not announce 
 her name nor her business. At length she herself 
 spoke. 
 
 '•'Tou are Mr. Norman?" she said; "and you 
 are Mrs. Norman," — pointing from one to tha 
 other; and her voice was severe and cold. 
 
 " I am Mr. Norman," was the response given 
 by the master of the house; "and this is Mrs. 
 Norman." 
 
 " I said so — didn't I ?" interjected the old lady: 
 and then, as if feeling that she had a perfect right 
 to play the part of a catechist, she demanded, 
 " But who are these three girls? — JTou, however, 
 must be Juliet Norman ? You are like your 
 
 mother yes, and not unlike your father too. 
 
 But who are these ?" — and now she pointed 
 towards Melissa and myself. 
 
 " This is Miss Trafford," answered Mr. Nor- 
 man; — "at least such is her name upon the 
 stage " 
 
 " Ob, that is Miss Trafford, the celebrated 
 actress— eh ?" said the singular old woman, some- 
 what disdainfully. " And that girl r" 
 
 " Tuis young ladj/," responded Mr. Norman 
 impatiently, "is Miss Harrison." 
 
 '•'Ah! Miss Harrison, the dancer?" said tl'e 
 dame. "A pretty society I find myself in! Per- 
 haps you can furnish me with a part to enact, Uj- 
 morrow or next day ?" 
 
 " You already seem, madam, to be performing 
 so strange a part," said Mr. Norman, " that if I 
 did not entertain the charitable idea that you are 
 not altogether in your senses " 
 
 " I do indeed begin to think that I mucit have 
 taken leave of tbem," exclaimed the old lady, 
 querulously, " to have come here !" 
 
 "In that case, madam," said Mr. Norman, 
 " there is not the slightest necessity for you to 
 remain here." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say not ! Indeed, I know it very 
 well," said the dame, now slowly rising from her 
 seat ; and as she drew her gaunt form completely 
 upright, she appeared to be even taller than I 
 thought she was when still seated. 
 
 " Eeally, madam," resumed Mr. Norman, "this 
 conduct " 
 
 " Poor thing ! she is mad !" whispered Mrs. 
 Norman deprecatingly to her husband: but her 
 words were not spoken in so subdued a tone as to 
 fail in reaching the keen ears of the singular 
 visitress. 
 
 " Yes— mad I must have been," she exclaimed, 
 "to have come all the way from Dover to ex* 
 perience such a reception as this !"
 
 ELLBN PEECr; OE, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTKES3 
 
 "Good heavens !— Mrs. Oldcastle ! iny dear 
 aunt !" ejaculated Mr. Norman, rushing forward. 
 
 " Is it possible " 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! who would have thought 
 it?" cried Mrs. Norman, likewise springing to- 
 wards the wealthy relative. 
 
 " Mrs. Oldcastle!" ejaculated Melissa Harrison, 
 but in a subdued voice— though she was seized 
 with a natural amazement. " Why, I thought 
 you knew her, Julie— and that you had been to 
 stay with her ?" 
 
 •" Hush, Melissa !" I said : " do not speak of it 
 now !"— for I saw that poor Juliet was seized with 
 confusion. 
 
 " There 1 that will do !" now broke in the severe 
 tones of Mrs. Oldcastle : and what she meant was 
 that she had unbent quite enough in submitting 
 to the sort of half-theatrical embrace which Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman bestowed upon her in their 
 turns. "Come, Juliet — you and I must know 
 Ko. 21.— Ellen Vsvlcy 
 
 each other now— and we may perhaps know each 
 other better.— It was all for the sake of your girl," 
 added Mrs. Oldcastle, looking at Mr, and Mrs. 
 
 Norman, " that I determined but no matter. 
 
 Come, kiss me, girl !" 
 
 Juliet, still full of confusion, went forward, the 
 colour coming and going in rapid transitions upon 
 her cheeks ; and the old lady, laying a hand upon 
 each shoulder, contemplated her earnestly for 
 upwards of a minute. 
 
 " There now !" she said, at length kissing her 
 upon the forehead : " you need not be frightened 
 — I am not an ogress come to eat you : but I ara 
 a relation of whom I daresay you have heard speak 
 —though you never before saw me and perhaps 
 never expected to see me. You are really a fine 
 girl : but beauty, after all, is vanity, both in itself 
 and in the sentiment it encourages.— So you nre 
 Miss TrafTord ?" continued Mrs. Oldcastle, i.ow 
 beckoning mo towards her.
 
 162 
 
 ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES 05 AN ACTEESS. 
 
 " Since you are a relation of the familj, madam," 
 I answered, " there is no harm in letting you know 
 that my real name ia Percy." 
 
 " Percy ! Percy !" ejaculated the dame, all her 
 frigidity suddenly giving way to agitation and 
 excitement, so that I was startled and astonished : 
 but quickly regaining her cold self-possession, she 
 muttered, "No — it is impossible!" — yet she con- 
 tinued to look very hard at me with her fixed 
 penetrating eyes. 
 
 "Miss Percy is a very dear young friend of 
 ours, aunt," interjected Mr. Norman ; " and as 
 she is as good as she is talented, we are as proud 
 of her as if she were our daughter." 
 
 " TVell, well," said the dame ; " I daresay she is 
 a gopd girl enough. And that other one ?" point- 
 ing to Melissa. 
 
 "Though there be a prejudice existing, almost 
 to the extent of a stigma, against the theatrical 
 profession," said Mr. Norman, " I am proud to 
 declare that we receive none but persons of un- 
 doubted reputation ; and amongst these friends 
 wo reckon Miss Biiirtison." 
 
 Melissa stooped ^o pick up the kerchief whic^ she 
 let fall as if by accident— thpugh I knew very 
 well that it was intentionally done as a means to 
 veil the sudden confusion into which that speech 
 of Mr. Norman had necessarily though so unsus- 
 pectingly thrown her : for be \t remembered that 
 only I myself va^ acquainted wit^b Melissa's frailty. 
 ■V^hen she again raised her countenance, it was 
 with a pajm self-possessioq : — a mompijt had been 
 siffficient for her to regain complete control over 
 hefself. 
 
 " Well, Miss B!arrison," said Mrs. Oldcastle, 
 shaking hands with her as she had done with me, 
 "I da^resay fhat you may be a very good kind of a 
 girl, although a dancer. However, I shall perhaps 
 have an opportunity of knowing you all better. I 
 mean to stay a few days in London for that 
 purpose." 
 
 " And you will make oiw house your home, dear 
 aunt ?" said Mr. Norman — an invitation that was 
 instantaneously echoed by his spouse. 
 
 " No, I thank you," said the dame curtly. 
 " Suppers at midnight would not suit me. I came 
 up to London to see you ; and therefore I should 
 have waited all night for that purpose. But now 
 that my object is accomplished, I shall take my 
 departure. Ring and order me a cab." 
 
 " At least, dear aunt, you will stay and take 
 some supper on the present occasion ?" urged Mr. 
 Norman, his wife echoing the invitation with equal 
 fervour. 
 
 Nothing however could induce the old lady to 
 remain: but she intimated that she should return 
 on the morrow to pass the entire day. She then 
 took her departure in the cab that was procured 
 according to her request. For some little while 
 after she was gone, Mr. and Mrs. Norman were 
 so full of the unexpected visit which had been 
 paid them, that they did not notice how pensive 
 Juliet looked : nor did they seem to recollect that 
 Melissa Harrison must naturally be astonished at 
 everythin;^ which had just occurred after the 
 rumour that was so industriously spread a few 
 monihs back to the effect that Juliet was invited 
 to pass a short time with her wealthy relative at 
 Dover. At length Juliet, pleading headncb, left 
 the room : and Melissa whispered to me, " I see 
 
 that there is some little family secret somewhere 
 or another. But I am not curious, dear Ellen — 
 and I ask not for explanations." 
 
 She then rose from her seat, bade us farewell, 
 and hurried away. 
 
 " By the bye," said Mr. Norman, when she was 
 gone, "Melissa must have.thought it strange " 
 
 " Rest assured," I interrupted him, " that she 
 will not ask any impertinent questions. But other 
 difficulties may arise from Mrs. Oldcastle's pre- 
 sence in London. All your friends and visitors 
 have been led to believe that Juliet passed some 
 little while with her : they may allude to it before 
 Mrs. Oldcastle when they call at the house " 
 
 " Truly !" said Mr. Norman ; " that is the dis- 
 advantage of telling a falsehood, even as a matter 
 of necessity ^nd in a very venial manner. It is 
 sure in the long run to produce its inconveniences. 
 There is only one alternative — and that is to deny 
 ourselves to all our friends and usual visitors 
 during the time that Mrs. Oldcastle is at the 
 house." 
 
 " That is indeed the only plan," I said : but I 
 had my misgivings lest complications should ariso 
 from the inopportune presence of Mrs. Oldcastle 
 in London. 
 
 I repaired to Juliet's chamber : I found her 
 unhappy and desponding. She spoke to me of 
 Melissa; and I gave her precisely the same as- 
 surance which I had already given to her parents, 
 in respect to Miss Harrison's freedom from imper- 
 tinent curiosity. 
 
 " But still she must consider it str^pge, Ejlen !" 
 said poor Juliet. " Some suspicion may be ex« 
 cited; and when once any such idea enters the 
 brain, it soon furnishes a clue ! I allude not now 
 especially to Melissa— but to other persons who 
 may come to the house " 
 
 " Your parents have determined to deny them- 
 selves to all visitors whenever Mrs, Oldcastle is 
 here," I interjected. 
 
 " But the servants, Ellen ?" resutued Juliet 
 "they must think it exceedingly strange that the 
 aunt whom I was supposed to visit a few months 
 ago, should come hither as a stranger. And then 
 too —in another month or six weeks I must leave 
 homo— I shall be no longer able to conceal my 
 position — and the very pretest which was to serve 
 me when the time should come, can now no longer 
 be thought of !" 
 
 " And why not, Juliet ?" I asked. " Mrs. Old- 
 castle is not likely to remain long in London; 
 nor is it probable that she will very soon repeat 
 her visit. When once she shall have returned 
 home, the pretext will hold as good as ever it 
 did." 
 
 "Oh, in what perils am I involved! — what 
 misery, what utter misery has that fatal love of 
 mine plunged me into !" — and Juliet gave way to 
 her lamentations. 
 
 I said everything I could to console her; and at 
 length finding that she was more tranquil, I left 
 her,— retiring to my own chamber. 
 
 On the following morning, immediately after 
 breakfast, Mrs. Oldcastle arrived at the house. 
 Her manner was sufficiently friendly, without be- 
 ing at all cordial : she seemed naturally cold and 
 severe : indeed I scarcely knew what to think of 
 her — whether it were possible for such a woman to 
 possess a good heart at all. Mr. and Mrs. Norman
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OE AW ACTKESS. 
 
 163 
 
 received her with the wonted frankness of their 
 hospitality, mingled with a certain degree of re- 
 spect ; while JuHet endeavoured to appear gay and 
 cheerful. The old lady had brought her knitting ; 
 and though the day was a fine one, she said not a 
 syllable of going out — nor did she express any de- 
 sire to visit " London sights," — though, as she in- 
 formed us, many and many a long year had elapsed 
 since the last time she was in the metropolis. She 
 seemed resolved to pass the entire day in-doors, so 
 that she might have all the better opportunities of 
 becoming well acquainted with the family whom 
 she had so long ignored, and to whom she had 
 with so much eccentric abruptness introduced her- 
 self. To Juliet she spoke in a somewhat kinder 
 tone than to her parents or to me : for to ws her 
 demeanour was only that of polite civility, — a 
 civility, too, that was shown after her own peculiar 
 fashion. During the first few hours that we all 
 sat together in the. drawing-room, I noticed 
 that Mrs. Oldcastle, while appearing to be intent 
 upon her knitting, was several times contemplating 
 Juliet furtively, and surveying her indeed with the 
 most scrutinizing attention. I trembled for my 
 poor friend's secret; and I dreaded lest its dis- 
 covery by the keen eyes of the old lady should 
 alienate from the Norman family that wealth which 
 under favourable circumstances they might hope to 
 inherit at her death. 
 
 It was just about luncheon-time, that a loud 
 double knock at the front door resounded through 
 the house; and Mrs. Oldcastle, lifting her eyes 
 from oflf her work, said to Mr. Norman, " Visitors 
 are arriving." 
 
 "They will not disturb us, my dear aunt," he 
 replied ; " for I have given orders that we are not 
 at home to any one." 
 
 " Indeed, then you have done very wrong," re- 
 sponded Mrs. Oldcastle, " ii -ou have acted thus 
 on my account ; for I would i her see your friends 
 than prove the cause of tht.r keeping away. I 
 therefore insist that you counter-order the instruc- 
 tions you have given to your domestics, and that 
 whosoever calls may be admitted." 
 
 "But we thought, my dear aunt," said Mr. 
 Norman, hesitating and stammering, " that it 
 would be more agreeable if we were to enjoy each 
 other's society " 
 
 " I am not so foolish," interrupted Mrs. Old- 
 castle, " as to imagine that my society can be very 
 delightful to any of you — especially to these girls. 
 Therefore, without another word, pray let my 
 wishes be attended to ; or else I shall take my de- 
 parture," 
 
 The old lady spoke positively ; and it was not 
 diffisult to comprehend that she was desirous not 
 only to make herself acquainted with the disposi- 
 tions and characters of her relatives, but that she 
 was likewise resolved to see in what manner they 
 lived and what sort of company they kept. Mr. 
 Norman was forced to ring the bell, and desire the 
 servant to show up all visitors who might call. 
 
 " It was Mr. Richards who came just now, sir," 
 said the footman. " I told him you were all out— 
 and he said he would come back again." 
 
 " That is the lessee of the theatre," said Mr. 
 Norman to his aunt. 
 
 " I should very much like to see him," ehe re- 
 sponded, with a certain dryness. 
 
 In about an hour the double knock again rever- 
 
 berated through the house ; and in a few momenta 
 Mr. Richards was announced. He was very hand- 
 somely dressed — for he had evidently been making 
 a round of morning calls ; and he glided into the 
 room with the easy familiarity of established 
 friendship. 
 
 " So at last I am fortunate in finding you all at 
 home !" he said. " I had a little business to speak 
 of; and therefore I was resolved to come back. 
 But " 
 
 Hero he stopped short, looking at the old lady. 
 
 "This is my aunt— Mrs. Oldcastle," said Mr. 
 Norman, eflFecting the introduction with a reluc- 
 tance that was all but visible to those who were 
 thus introduced. " Mr. Eichards— Mrs. Old- 
 castle." 
 
 "Proud to make Mrs. Oldcastle's acquaint- 
 ance !" said Mr. Eichards, gliding towards the 
 old lady, and proffering his hand, from which he 
 hastily withdrew the lemon-coloured kid glove. " I 
 have heard of you before, my dear madam. Ah ! 
 you were the means of taking away from me the 
 very best dansewse that ever appeared on my 
 boards ■ " 
 
 " I, Mr. Eichards ?" exclaimed the old lady, 
 with unfeigned surprise. 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense, Eichards !" said Mr. 
 Norman, winking and making signs to the lessee. 
 " No professional matters here !" 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mrs. Oldcastle quietly, "Mr. 
 Eichards has called expressly on some professional 
 business ; and if so, I beg that he will not stand 
 upon any ceremony on «ny account. He may 
 speak out before me ; and if not, it is very clear 
 that I must be one too many beneath this roof." 
 
 " Nothing can be kinder, madam, than your ob- 
 servation," said Mr. Eichards. "To speak the 
 trutb, it was about a little professional business 
 that I called.— You saw, Norman," he continued, 
 turning to Juliet's father, " how successful the new 
 ballet was last night. It was a hit : but it may 
 be made a greater hit still.— There are degrees, 
 madam, in all these things," he added, turning 
 towards the old lady, to whom, with no doubt a 
 well meant purpose, he studied to make himself 
 agreeable, as a visitor of the Normans, and there- 
 fore for the Normans' sake. 
 
 "Precisely so, Mr. Eichards," answered Mrs. 
 Oldcastle. " I am glad, sir, that my presence is not 
 a restraint upon the frankness of your discourse." 
 
 " Oh, quite the contrary, my dear madam !" 
 exclaimed Mr. Eichards. "As I was saying, there- 
 fore, the new ballet— though already a hit— may 
 be made a greater hit still. Miss Harrison ac- 
 quitted herself most admirably last night: but 
 still. Miss Norman, she does not come up to you. 
 I was thinking therefore — unless the aunt has an 
 insuperable objection" — and here he turned with a 
 bland deprecating smile towards Mrs. Oldcastle, — 
 " I was thinking, I say, that if your talented 
 niece would only accept an engagement, I would 
 give her the handsomest salary " 
 
 Juliet, who I saw had been hanging to the 
 tenterhooks of uneasiness and suspense, here broke 
 in, with an abruptness which savoured of rude- 
 ness, and was indeed most unusual with her. 
 
 "One word is sufiicient, Mr. Eichards!" she 
 said. " I decline to return to the stago— at least 
 for the present." 
 
 " There, my dear madam ! see what you have
 
 164 
 
 EllEN PERCY) OR, THE MEMOrRS OP AV ACTRESS. 
 
 done !" esclaimed Mr. Richards, endeavouring to 
 conceal his vexation beneath the air of gaj re- 
 proach with which he addressed the aunt. " It is 
 all your fault; and I must conjure jou to with- 
 draw an injunction which, as you perceive, deprives 
 mj ballet of its brightest ornament." 
 
 "1 can assure you, Mr. Eichards," responded 
 Mrs. Oldcastle, "that I have issued uo injanction 
 to any such effect, I have not presumed to inter- 
 fere with Mr. Norman's arrangements on behalf of 
 himself, his wife, or his daughter." 
 
 " No, no, my dear aunt," interposed Mr. Nor- 
 man, " you have been very kind and good ; and as 
 for the proposition Mr. Richards has just made us 
 in respect to Juliet, we will think it over." 
 
 " G-ood ! that will do !" ejaculated the lessee : 
 " and I feel convinced that my views will not ex- 
 perience opposition on the part of Mrs. Oldcastle." 
 
 The manager then bowed and retired. When 
 
 be discovered by her whose name was usc.l upou 
 the occasion. When Mrs. Oldcastle took her leave 
 — which she did at about halt'-past eight o'clock — 
 she intimated that she should not revisit the house 
 on the following day, but that she should pass the 
 one next ensuing altogether there. When she was 
 gone, we talked over the incidents of the dar.- and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman expressed their coni'SjJion 
 that great and sigual advances had been made in 
 the favourable opinion of their wealthy relative. 
 Such was likewise my impression ; but I saw how 
 much depended on Juliet's secret being kept safe 
 until the time should come when there was no 
 longer any danger of its transpiring. 
 
 On the following day Mr. Norman communi- 
 cated to Mr. Richards, on his daughter's behttltj 
 her refusal to accept another engagement at the 
 theatre ; and he was now enabled with bold truth- 
 fulness to assert that Mrs. Oldcastle had peremp- 
 
 the door closed behind him, there was an ominous torily influenced this decision. 
 
 silence of a few minutes, — a silence which the old 
 lady did not seem inclined to break, and upon 
 which no one else seemed to dare to intrude. It 
 was a most embarrassing silence. I saw that 
 Juliet was exceedingly uneasy, and that this feel- 
 ing was shared by her parents — as indeed it like- 
 wise was by myself. At length Mrs. Oldcastle, 
 lifting her eyes from her work, turned towards 
 Juliet, inquiring, "How long have you seceded 
 rom the stage ?" 
 
 " It must be upwards of five months," Mrs, 
 Norman hastened to ejaculate — doubtless fearing 
 that her daughter's confusion might prevent her 
 from giving any answer at all. 
 
 " And what is your objection to return to the 
 stagtf, my dear ?" inquired Mrs. Oldcastle, in even 
 a kinder voice than she had yet used when address- 
 ing Juliet. " Let the girl speak for herself," she 
 added, glancing quickly upon Mr. and Mrs. Nor- 
 man. 
 
 I saw that Juliet gathered up all her self- 
 possession with an effort; and she answered with 
 an air of frankness, '*' I have conceived a distaste 
 for the stage." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mrs. Oldcastle. " But I hope 
 that I may give your parents credit for having ab- 
 stained from forcing your inclination in that re- 
 spect ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes I" exclaimed Juliet, with affectionate 
 enthusiasm : "they have always been most kind 
 and good towards me !" 
 
 " I am glad you tell me that, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Oldcastle : and the dark cloud of suspicion 
 which for a moment had gathered upon her coun- 
 tenance, now vanished altogether^her features 
 brightening up indeed, as much as such a face 
 coulu by any possibility become animated. " In 
 this case," she added, " the engagement with Mr. 
 Bichards will not of course take place." 
 
 " Certainly not — certainly not, my dear aunt I" 
 ejaculated Mr. Ncrman, eagerly. 
 
 From that moment throughout the rest of the 
 day, Mrs. Oldcastle's demeanour grew more cordial 
 towards Mr. and Mrs. Norman ; while towards 
 Juliet she became almost affectionate — and ex- 
 ceedingly kind towards myself. Nothing more of 
 any consequence occurred to revive the apprehen- 
 sions of poor Juliet that the falsehood which be- 
 tween five or six months back had been propagated 
 in respect to the visit to the aunt at Dover, would 
 
 It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of 
 this same day— while Mr. and Mrs. Norman were 
 absent at the theatre, and while Juliet, who felt 
 indisposed after the excitement of the previous day, 
 was lying down in her own chamber — that the 
 footman entered the drawing-room where I was 
 seated alone, to intimate that a lady desired to 
 speak to me. I asked what name she had given: 
 but the footman replied, " The lady. Miss, an- 
 nounced no name : she said it was useless, as she 
 is a perfect stranger to you." 
 
 " Then let her walk up," I said : but I resolved 
 to remain upon my guard, for fear of any new 
 treachery on the part of Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 
 In a few moments the visitress was ushered into 
 my presence; and as she wore a thick black veil, 
 I could only catch a feeble glimpse of her coun- 
 tenance : but the impression it made upon me was 
 most favourable. She was well dressed ; and a 
 single glance at her attire was sufficient to convince 
 me that it emanated from some fashionable estab- 
 lishment where the cost of articles must be held 
 of no consequence in the estimation of the pur- 
 chaser. She was not tall, but of the medium 
 height of woman — with a very slender figure, 
 proportioned to an exquisite symmetry ; while her 
 bearing was ladylike and full of natural uus'udied 
 grace. I rose to receive her. She seemed em- 
 barrassed how to introduce herself or her business; 
 — and no longer fearing treachery, I spoke with a 
 kind encouragement, requesting her to be seated. 
 She then — as if with a certain effort which was 
 rendered necessary by a slight remaining reluc- 
 tance—raised her veil; and I beheld one of the 
 most interestingly beautiful countenances I had 
 ever gazed upon. It was not however a face of 
 dazzling loveliness, nor was it a beauty which 
 makes the beholder wonder as well as admire: 
 but, on the contrary, it was an expression of me- 
 lancholy gentleness and sweet mournfulness which 
 gave such a pathetic interest to that oval coun- 
 tenance and those regular features. Delicately 
 modelled too were those features : the cheeks were 
 pale ; in a slight degree they were sunken — but so 
 slightly as not to be hollow nor to give a haggard 
 look to the face itself. She seemed as if she had 
 only recently recovered from an illness that had 
 been caused by some calamity ; and methought 
 likewise that the sense of this calamity, mellowed 
 by resignation, was still in the soul, as the linger-
 
 BLLKJr PERCY; OS, THE MBMOIBS OF AN ACTUESa. 
 
 165 
 
 ing traces of indisposition were also upon the 
 countenance. 
 
 On examining her presently with somewhat 
 more attention, though not with an intentness to 
 be perceived, I observed that her complexion was 
 beautifully fair, and that in its polish it might vie 
 with the pearl of the sea-shell. Her eyes — not 
 large, and full of a mournfully serene softness — 
 were of a grey so deep that in particular lights 
 their colour might be mistaken for blue. Her 
 nose was perfectly straight : her mouth, exquisitely 
 beautiful, must always have had a somewhat seri- 
 ous and meditative expression ; but I fancied that 
 the recent circumstances of calamity and illness 
 which in my imagination I had associated with 
 this lady, had tended to render its expression still 
 more pensive. Her age appeared to be about 
 three-and-twenty J — and I must add that from the 
 very first instant she raised her veil I was inte- 
 rested in her whom I am endeavouring to describe. 
 
 It was in a soft, clear, and musical voice that 
 she said to me, " I am afraid, Miss Trafford, you 
 will deem the step I have taken to be exceedingly 
 bold, when I explain the object of this intrusion. 
 I have never heard any one speak of you otherwise 
 than in your public capacity : but when I have 
 read in the newspapers that you display so much 
 deep and genuine feeling in the parts which you 
 represent, I felt assured that you would receive 
 me with sympathy and with kindness, even though 
 in the end you should be unable to assist me in 
 the way in which I hope for your succour." 
 
 There was something exceedingly touching in 
 the manner in which the lady spoke — something 
 that went irresistibly to the heart, appealing on 
 behalf of the speaker with a plaintiveness that at 
 once enlisted every sympathy and made one long to 
 be enabled to do her a service. I asked her in 
 what way I could possibly be of use to her — as- 
 suring her at the same time of my readiness to 
 exert my humble endeavours in her cause. 
 
 She did not immediately answer — but bent 
 down her eyes, Methought that with a gasping 
 effort she stifled a sob ; and at length she said in 
 a voice of forced firmness, " I wish to go upon the 
 
 " To forward this aim," I responded, " there is 
 much which happily lies in my power. But surely 
 it is not a matter of taste " 
 
 I stopped short ; for the was visibly struggling 
 with her feelings ; and she said in a low voice, 
 "No — it is a matter of necessity." 
 
 I was surprised : and my looks no doubt dis- 
 played my astonishment. By her appearance she 
 seemed to be a lady in independouc circumstances; 
 though I now noticed that notwithstanding she 
 was so well dressed, she had not a particle of 
 jewellery about her person. 
 
 " Yes — from necessity," she repeated, now giving 
 an almost bitter emphasis to her words. " I must 
 earn my bread — I who once " 
 
 Again she stopped short, and appeared to be 
 wrestling with feelings that were almost over- 
 powering. I naturally fancied that she was on the 
 point of alluding to better days and happier times ; 
 and I thus beheld the realization of my idea that 
 she had been stricken by a calamity, of which 
 recent illness was one of the results 
 
 " But have you well weighed," I asked, in a 
 gentle and sympathizing voice, " the step which 
 
 you thus propose to take ? P.irdon me if I speak 
 to you with fraukness. You have experienced re- 
 cent causes of unhappiness : but the mind of one 
 who appears before a public audience must bo 
 
 nerved " 
 
 " Oh ! I have considered all this !" exclaimed 
 the lady. " I should not exhibit so much weak- 
 ness now, were it not that I read sympathy ia 
 your looks; and you must be good and gentle and 
 kind indeed to feel for woes that are unknown to 
 you, and the existence of which you merely sus- 
 pect ! Yes — my mind is made up to embrace the 
 stage as a means of existence — if I can obtain an 
 
 introduction to it " 
 
 " Pardon me for interrupting you," I said, 
 deeply affected by her words and her looks — for it 
 was a sad thing to hear the syllable tooe come from 
 the lips of one who was so exquisitely beautiful; 
 " but perhaps your misfortunes may be only tem- 
 porary P perhaps for a season — a year or two, for 
 instance — there might be relief afforded, and you 
 might be saved the adoption of that idea which 
 you have seized upon in the belief that it is the 
 
 only alternative ? If so " 
 
 " A thousand, thousand thanks. Miss Trafford," 
 said the fair stranger, her voice musically tre- 
 mulous with emotions, "for your unmistakable 
 kindness — your significant generosity ! And think 
 me not ungrateful if I do not make you altogether 
 my confidante : but to tell you such a history aa 
 mine— No, no ! G-ood God ! it is impossible !" 
 
 She shivered as she spoke these last words with 
 a wild and frenzied vehemence ; and for au instant 
 I was frightened lest her senses were abaudoning 
 her. But suddenly she became calm once more; 
 and she said, " Pardon this emotion. Miss IVafford ! 
 I really did not think when entering into your 
 presence, that I should be thus led away by my 
 feelings. I had flattered myself that I had ob- 
 tained sufficient command over them to preserve 
 a certain degree of equanimity, if not of forti- 
 tude. And now you will ask me whether I have 
 any taste for the stage, and what my qualifications 
 are ? Listen to me for a few moments ! Some 
 while ago — when I was more happily placed than 
 I now am" — and here a sudden sigh convulsed her 
 almost to choking, but in an instant she subdued 
 it — " there were frequent private theatricals at the 
 — I mean where I dwelt. My spirits were gayer 
 then; and I took a part in them. It might have 
 been on account of my position — I mean to say 
 that the lenient judgment or well-meant flattery 
 of friends may have led me to suppose that I was 
 
 not altogether without dramatic talent though 
 
 heaven knows that I then little thought that the 
 
 time would ever come " 
 
 Here again she stopped short ; and there was 
 another struggle against the heartrending grief 
 which she evidently experienced. I saw that it 
 was most painful for her to continue the explana- 
 tions which so vividly reminded her of better days 
 — peradventure of opulence, of a happy home, and 
 of a proud position ; and I hastened to say in en- 
 couraging accents, " The drama therefore, though 
 hitherto practised for amusement, is not altogether 
 unfamiliar to you ? I will do my best — I will go 
 at once, if you wish it, and speak to Mr. Richards, 
 the lessee of the theatre where I myself have 
 an engagement. I know that he will listen to 
 my representations ; and I shall only be too
 
 166 
 
 EHEW PEECT; OE, the MKMOIES of an ACTEES8. 
 
 Lappy to call upon you to announce the favourable 
 result." 
 
 " Call upon me ?" slie ejaculated, methought 
 almost in terror : then, as if suddenly recollecting 
 that she had spoken strangely and wildly, she said, 
 " Not for the world, Miss Traiford, would I give 
 you that trouble ! Permit me to call here again to- 
 morrow to know the result. Or if you would not 
 xieem it an importunity, I would see you this even- 
 ing at the theatre " 
 
 " Be it so," I said. " Call at the stage-entrance 
 
 —send in your name " 
 
 "My name?" said the stranger almost va- 
 cantly : but again catching herself up in the midst 
 of her painfully wandering thoughts, she cried, 
 " Yes, I will avail myself of your kindness ; and if 
 the name of Miss Howard be brought in to you, I 
 may expect the favour of admission ?" 
 
 I replied in the affirmative ; and I was thinking 
 at the time that the unfortunate lady's disinclina- 
 tion for me to call upon her at her own residence, 
 wherever it were, might possibly arise from the 
 poverty of the abode to which circumstances had 
 compelled her to retire. I therefore said with con- 
 siderable diffidence and in as delicate a manner as 
 possible, " Perhaps you will not be offended with 
 me if I offer you, Miss Howard, such temporary 
 
 assistance as you may require, until " 
 
 " No ! no !" she vehemently ejaculated. " But 
 forgive my abruptness ! Oh, Miss Trafford !" 
 she added, now bursting into tears, " it is so long 
 since the voice of sympathy made music in my 
 brain or awoke the feelings of my heart, that it 
 sounds strange indeed — and I scarcely know how 
 to take it ! All that has just occurred between us 
 must seem most singular to you. I need not ask 
 whether it be suspicious ; for you with the sub- 
 limest generosity have treated me as if I were a 
 sister instead of a stranger. I cannot find words 
 in which to thank you. But I can pray — Oh, 
 yes ! I can pray ! — and in my prayers shall you 
 be remembered !" 
 
 She pressed my hand with the most grateful 
 fervour; drew down her veil, and precipitately left 
 the room. It had struck me that she spoke of 
 prayer in that sense in which it is one of the 
 only resources of the unfortunate ; and this circum- 
 stance tended to interest me still more deeply in 
 her favour. Without tarrying for much reflection, 
 I hastened to my chamber, put on my walking. 
 apparel, and proceeded to the theatre. My desti- 
 nation was soon gained : I found that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman had already left ; but I learnt from 
 a subordinate that Mr. Bichards was in his own 
 room. The man added that the lessee was en- 
 gaged with the principal gentlemen of the com- 
 pany : but as I thought that they could only be in 
 that room on professional business, I did not hesi- 
 tate to proceed thither. I knocked at the door ; 
 and fancying that I was bidden to walk in, I 
 opened it. But all in a moment my ears were 
 assailed with such a Babel of human voices, that 
 if the door when once unfastened had not rolled 
 wide open of its own accord, I should have retired. 
 As it was, however, the opening of that door re- 
 vealed to me the scene that was taking place. All 
 the principal actors engaged at the theatre — Mr. 
 Norman excepted — were in violent altercation with 
 the lessee. No, not exactly wi^A him— but agaiiist 
 him : for there he sat, in perfect silence,— his head 
 
 bent down as if with the air of a man who bows 
 to suffer the first gush of the hurricane to sweep 
 over him ere he raises himself up to breast its re- 
 maining fury when its first violence shall have been 
 expended. One of the chief performers held in 
 his hand a manuscript ; and he was indignantly 
 vociferating, " Is this a part to give to such as 
 me — I who, if I had my due and if managers had 
 not conspired against me, should be held equal to 
 Macready ? And you expect me to perform such 
 a part as this ? I, sir, to fall down a trap-door 
 like a clown — to be caught in a blanket by a couple 
 of drunken carpenters or careless supernumaries ! 
 — not I indeed, sir !" 
 
 " And I should like to know, Mr. Eichards," 
 exclaimed another gentleman, cocking his hat on 
 one side of his head, and giving it a smash down 
 in order to fix it the more tightly there— at the 
 same time that he assumed the fiercest possible 
 look, — "and I should like to know, Mr. Eichards, 
 whether when I engaged with you as a Walking 
 Gentleman, I was expected to shoulder a musket 
 as a recruit, play a big drum, and make grimaces 
 over a mouth-organ ? for that is precisely the part 
 which is assigned to me in this precious piece !" 
 
 "And I, sir," vociferated another, buttoning up 
 his frock-coat to his very throat, and tucking up 
 the cuffs, as if he meant to wreak summary chas- 
 tisement upon the lessee ; " I should like to know, 
 sir, whether when I engaged with you as a Gen- 
 tleman for Utility, it was to be condemned to such 
 vile uses as that to which my part in this piece 
 would bring me down at last ?" 
 
 " Sir— ahem !" said a stout, burly, plethoric 
 gentleman, with a very red face and grey hair : 
 " ahem, sir ! I believe, sir — and in believing, sir, 
 I thinh that I was engaged by you— ahem, sir ! — 
 through your stage-manager, Mr. Green, as a 
 Heavy Man. Was it not so, sir ? Ahem, sir ? 
 Well, sir — then by what singular conglomeration 
 of circumstances — ahem, sir! by what mystification 
 of the strangest events and confusion of all ideas 
 of propriety, is it that I now find myself cast for 
 
 a character — a character, sir — ahem, sir " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Arlington !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Mellicent, now stepping forward and pushing 
 the Heavy Man aside : " your grievance is nothing 
 to mine ! Mr. Eichards," he continued, bowing 
 in a grandiose style of scornful disdain to the 
 lessee, " would you be good enough to tell me, sir, 
 why after being insulted by your manager Mr. 
 Green, humbugged by your property-man Mr. 
 Sutterby, and accused of being drunk by your base 
 underling Mr. Tubbs, I should now experience the 
 crowning degradation at your hands ? I believe, 
 sir, that it is my avocation to tread the boards of 
 your theatre as the First Walking Gentleman. 
 
 But, sir " 
 
 At this moment Mr. Grimshaw, the Clown— 
 who had been standing a little apart, listening 
 with comic seriousness to the wrangle — thought it 
 expedient to alter his position and stand upon his 
 head, — at the same time making the most hideous 
 grimaces. The effect was so ludicrous that one 
 after another, in rapid succession, the ire of the 
 actors gave way ; laugh upon laugh burst forth— 
 Mr. Eichards raised his head— and throwing him- 
 self back in his seat, he joined in that chorus of 
 cachinnations. 
 
 " Come, my good fellows," he exclaimed, when
 
 ELlEjr PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEE88. 
 
 167 
 
 tbe laughter had subsided — when Mr. Grimsbaw 
 had resumed his feet— and when Mr. Mellicent 
 was assuming a most heroic attitude for another 
 set speech, — " what the deuce do jou all want ? 
 Tou are like so many hornets. Are you well 
 treated or not ? Do you ever go away with empty 
 pockets from the treasury on a Saturday night ? 
 As for the casts of the piece, they are capital. A 
 handsome fellow like you, Mellicent, could not 
 possibly have a better part. You have a soliloquy 
 of a quarter of an hour— at the end of which 
 you die with effect. Tou are safe to be encored ! 
 — Come, gentlemen, go to the Green-room ; a dozen 
 of wine shall follow you ; and at rehearsal to- 
 morrow you will be all in such good humour with 
 your parts, that you will be fit to drink another 
 
 dozen of wine that is," added Mr. Hichards 
 
 aside, " if I am in a humour to give it." 
 
 The storm was completely quelled : the words of 
 promise respecting the wine were like oil thrown 
 upon the troubled waters. Mr. Mellicent seized 
 Mr. Bichards by the hand, vowing that he was 
 the very prince of managers, and that he had al- 
 ways loved him with an affection scarcely possible 
 to be exceeded if they had happened to be brothers. 
 The Heavy Man looked light and gay ; the Gen- 
 tleman of Utility seemed as if he were by no means 
 averse to include wine-drinking amongst any other 
 avocations which, in the general range of his 
 talents and his Protean qualities, he might be 
 called upon to fulfil. In a word, all the performers 
 issued forth from the lessee's room with aspects 
 wonderfully changed, and declaring with the true 
 theatrical aside, which was meant for everybody 
 to hear, that " Mr. Eichards was a capital fel- 
 low I" 
 
 " Sit down, Miss Trafford," said Mr. Eichards, 
 when the posse had departed. '•' Sorry that you 
 should have beheld such a scene : but you saw I 
 knew how to manage them ?" 
 
 " I rather think," I said, with a smile, " it was 
 Mr. Grimshaw who knew how to manage them P" 
 
 " Ah ! but it was prearranged," responded the 
 lessee, chuckling. "I saw the storm was brewing 
 —I bade Grimshaw be here — I told him what to 
 do — and that when the brunt of the tempest was 
 becoming severest, he must come to my rescue. — 
 But I forgot ! those men want their wine ! After 
 all, they are good fellows at botttom— and they 
 shall have it." 
 
 Here the manager rang his bell ; and the sum- 
 mons was answered by the usual underling in at- 
 tendance. 
 
 " Tubbs," he said, with a very serious counte- 
 nance, and with an ostentatious manner, " the 
 gentlemen of my company have behaved in a way 
 to afford me the most cordial satisfaction ; and you 
 know, Tubbs, that I am always the first to reward 
 merit. Tubbs, you will take those gentlemen a 
 dozen of sherry to the Green-room." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Tubbs. "The best 
 sherry, sir ?" 
 
 "The best sherry, you scoundrel?" ejaculated 
 Mr. Eichards, starting as if he could kick him. 
 " What ! my five- shilling sherry ? Heaven fore- 
 fend ! No, sir 1 The Cape ! — the Cape at one- 
 and-three I" 
 
 "Very good, sir," answered Mr. Tubbs; and he 
 forthwith departed to execute the commission thus 
 confided to him. 
 
 " A lessee. Miss Trafford," said Mr. Eichards, as 
 the door closed behind the underling, " has no 
 easy part to perform. His is the part behind the 
 curtain ; and without at all detracting from the 
 merits by which yourself and others overcome diffi- 
 culties before the curtain, I think that mine is the 
 least enviable position. I am a sort of Prime 
 Minister, filling no specific department, but having 
 to overlook the departments of all others. A 
 lessee, Miss Trafford, must, in vulgar parlance, be 
 wide awake. For instance, at the cost of fifteen 
 shillings I am about to treat those gentlemen, who 
 will be as well contented as if, according to the 
 suggestion of Tubbs, the cost of their regaling 
 amounted to sixty shillings. And then too. Miss 
 Trafford, a lessee must have a wonderful capacity 
 for eating and drinking. He must always be 
 ready to propose a chop, or a kidney, or broiled 
 bones, at the tavern over the way, for the behoof 
 of any individual whom he wishes especially to 
 conciliate ; and of course there is no eating with- 
 out plenty of drinking at the same time. — But 
 while I am chattering here, I forget that you may 
 be in a hiury ; and now I shall be most happy to 
 attend to you." 
 
 I explained to Mr. Eichards that I was to a cer- 
 tain degree interested in a young lady named Miss 
 Howard, who was most anxious to go upon the 
 stage ; and without entering into any further par- 
 ticulars, I besought the lessee's good offices as a 
 personal favour to myself. Mr. Eichards at once 
 yielded to my solicitation, and made an appoint- 
 ment for the lady to wait upon him on the follow- 
 ing day, when he would put her abilities to tho 
 test, and if she gave any promise at all in the his- 
 trionic art, he would offer her an engagement. I 
 thanked him, and took my departure. Oa return- 
 ing to Hunter Street, I mentioned to the Xor- 
 mans the visit which I had received from Miss 
 Howard and the step I had taken in her behalf : 
 but I said nothing to excite any particular curi- 
 osity with regard to her. 
 
 In the evening I repaired again to the theatre ; 
 and when the performance was over, I hastened 
 to my dressing-room in the expectation of receiving 
 the visit from Miss Howard, to whom I was most 
 anxious to communicate the hope which the lessee 
 had held out. My theatrical costume was doffed, 
 and I had put on my private apparel, before the 
 message was brought to me, to the effect that 
 Miss Howard solicited a few minutes' conversation. 
 I directed that she might be at once introduced to 
 my room ; and I dismissed the maid, in order that 
 I might receive her alone. She wore the dark 
 veil over her countenance : I saw that she was 
 nervous and trembling, as if with suspense; and 
 I hastened to relieve her therefrom. When she 
 heard the intelljgence I had to impart, she caught 
 my hand, and pressed it to her lips. She was so 
 overcome with her feelings that I begged her to 
 sit down and take some refreshment; for there 
 were wine and biscuits upon a side-table. She 
 accepted the invitation ; and I could not help 
 noticing that she ate the biscuits as if she were 
 actually hungry. I was convinced that she had 
 been enduring distress ; .and I resolved to make 
 another effort to induce her to accept some pecu- 
 niary succour at my hands. 
 
 " You are now certain of an engagement. Miss 
 Howard," I said : " upon this you may rely. But
 
 a week, you know, will elapse before you can apply 
 to the treasury; and you may have little expenses 
 to meet. Pray consent to use me as your banker 
 for your temporary requirements " 
 
 She bad raised her veil : she looked up stead* 
 fastly into my face for a few instants as I thus 
 spoke ; and then, bursting into tears, she exclaimed, 
 " Grood God ! you know, then, that I was starv- 
 ing !" 
 
 I was cruelly shocked at this ejaculation ; and 
 from my own eyes did the tears gush forth. I 
 placed my purse in her band : but when she heard 
 the chink of gold, she said with a species of con- 
 vulsive nervousness, " No, no — not all this !" — and 
 drawing forth a single sovereign, she laid the purse 
 upon the table. 
 
 " I can only repeat. Miss TraflEbrd, what I said 
 this morning," she continued, after a brief pause, 
 — " that I cannot find words sufficient to thank 
 you for your goodness. I will now retire: and to- 
 morrow I shall not fail to keep the appointment 
 with the lessee." 
 
 " I will conduct you to the outer door," I said ; 
 " for I myself am about to return home, as Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman will not be ready to leave the 
 theatre for the next hour." 
 
 'We accordingly issued forth together : and when 
 we reached the stage-entrance, Miss Howard said, 
 "Here we will part." 
 
 She shook me by the hand, and was hastening 
 away, when the light of a gas-lamp streamed full 
 upon the countenance of a gentleman who was 
 passing. I should observe that Miss Howard had 
 omitted to draw down her veil again, — either from 
 the confusion of her thoughts, or else because as I 
 wore none on the occasion, she considered that it 
 would be discourteous to cover her own face. The 
 recognition between herself and that gentleman 
 was mu'ual and instantaneous. 
 
 " Ah !" he ejaculated in a voice which seemed to 
 be filled with anything but joy : " is it you ?" 
 
 " Good heavens ! we meet again !" were the 
 words which quivered from the lips of Frances 
 Howard : for she bad told me that this was her 
 Christian name. " Have you thrown yourself in 
 my way, to renew " 
 
 " Silence !" he sternly ejaculated : and I heard 
 not another syllable — for I retreated within the 
 doorway, not choosing that Miss Howard should 
 fancy I purposely lingered to listen. 
 
 When I looked forth again, at the expiration of 
 about a minute, both the lady and the gentleman 
 had disappeared — I knew not whether in company, 
 or in dift'erent directions. The carriage was wait- 
 ing to take me home ; and during the drive thither, 
 I continued to think of Prances Howard and the 
 strange mystery that enveloped her. That she 
 was unhappy, she herself had admitted : but was 
 her unhappiness connected with that gentleman 
 whom she had met, evidently by an accident ? And 
 was there any fault on her side ? — was she in any 
 way criminal? Oh! was it possible to associate 
 guilt with that pathetic softness of expression — 
 with that grateful heart — with those assurances 
 that she was accustomed to pray to her Maker ? 
 Ah ! had I not been deceived by the apparently 
 amiable qualities of Lady Lilla Essendine? — and 
 was I to become the dupe of another deception 
 now ? Por a few moments I was shocked and 
 alllicted with the idea : but speedily repelling it 
 
 as most ungenerous and uncharitable, I resolved 
 to yield my faith to the better side, and to believe 
 that Prances Howard was merely unhappy, but 
 not criminal. 
 
 While thus refl.ecting, I endeavoured to remem- 
 ber the outlines and the expression of that mascu- 
 line cous^aance on which the gas-lamp had shed 
 its light; --~4he countenance of that gentleman 
 whom M'lst) Howard had accidentally met. It was 
 a countenance which, to my knowledge, I had 
 never seen before ; and I had obtained so transient 
 a glimpse of it that methought I should scarcely 
 be enabled to recognise it again. To the best of 
 my recollection, however, it was the face of a man 
 of at least forty years of age— dark-complexioned, 
 even to swarthiness — and with eyes that appeared 
 to vibrate for an instant with a sinister light. He 
 was tall J and it struck me that he was well 
 dressed. More than these few details I cgM not 
 remember. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 AUKT OLDCASILE. 
 
 On the following day Mrs. Oldcastle again made 
 her appearance in Hunter Street; and it was with 
 an increased cordiality that she returned the greet- 
 ings of her relatives. She established herself by 
 the fireside as if it were an old familiar place — 
 drew forth her knitting — and seemed prepared to 
 make herself quite at home. Juliet was in better 
 spirits ; for she had buoyed herself up with the hope 
 that circumstances would continue to protect her 
 secret from discovery by the aunt ; and moreover 
 Mrs. Oldcastle had intimated, shortly after her 
 arrival on this occasion, that she should most pro- 
 bably leave London on the following day. 
 
 Matters passed on very comfort bly until about 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, — when a loud double 
 knock reverberated through the house. A visitor 
 was arriving ; and in a few minutes a certain Mrs. 
 Armstrong was announced. This was an elderly 
 lady who had retired from the stage on a compe- 
 tency ; she had always borne an unexceptionable 
 character : she had known the Normans for years ; 
 and thus she was invariably welcome at the house. 
 She was a widow, and dearly loved a little bit of 
 gossip — though she was by no means maliiiously 
 prone to scandal ; or else her presence would not 
 have been agreeable to the straight-forward, 
 honest-hearted Normans. 
 
 As a matter of course, she was introduced to 
 the aunt: but I knew that the Normans must 
 have felt uneasy ; for it was to this very lady that 
 the tale of Juliet's pretended visit to Mrs. Old- 
 castle at Dover was first mentioned at the time. 
 No sooner, however, was Mrs. Oldcastlo's name 
 announced, when Mrs. Armstrong exclaimed, 
 " Well, I am truly delighted to see you here, my 
 dear madam ! It augurs well — but only fulfils 
 what we had all along expected I" 
 
 " I did not know, madam," said Mrs. Oldcastle 
 curtly, " that my visit to London could have been 
 in any way foreseen." 
 
 " Certainly not, certainly not !" said Mr. Nor- 
 man, stammeiinsj, and looking very much con- 
 fused ; for he was far from being an adept in
 
 ELIiSN PESCT; Olt, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEE8?. 
 
 169 
 
 duplicity, even tho most venial and innocuous. 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong means that you understand, 
 
 aunt your name has often been mentioned by 
 U8 " 
 
 " And pray, my dear madam," broke in Mrs. 
 Armstrong, whom I was vainly endeavouring to 
 engage in conversation with myself, — " do you find 
 our dear Juliet at all altered ? I call her our dear 
 Juliet, because I have known her ever since she 
 was a baby;— and 1 have really thought that for 
 the last few weeks she has scarcely looked so well 
 as she did -" 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, shall I order up luncheon ?" 
 interjected Mr. Norman, who was evidently almost 
 driven to despair. 
 
 " A glass of wine and a biscuit ?" quickly added 
 Mrs, Norman : and she was hastening to ring the 
 bell as the only means of creating a diversion from 
 the perilous strain of the discourse, when Mrs. 
 Oldcastle quietly interposed. 
 
 « No. 22.— Ellen Pbecy. 
 
 " You asked me, ma 1am," she said, " if I had 
 found Juliet altered ; and the question seems so 
 singular " 
 
 " Of course ! of course !" ejaculated Mr. Nor- 
 man. " It is Mrs. Armstrong's foolish way " 
 
 " Foolish indeed !" exclaimed the lady indig- 
 nantly. " I have known you for more than 
 twenty years, Mr. Norman ; and this is the first 
 time you ever insulted me !" 
 
 " Insulted you ? Not for the world, my dear 
 madam !" cried the good-hearted Mr. Norman. 
 " Insult an old friend like you P No, it is impos- 
 sible !" 
 
 " Well, there's an end of the matter," said 
 Mrs. Armstrong, proffering her hand : then quickly 
 turning to the old aunt, she added, " I meant to 
 say, my dear madam, that Juliet has not the same 
 good looks as when she went on that visit to you 
 five or six months ago " 
 
 A cry burst from my lips, as I rushed forward
 
 170 
 
 •ELtEH PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AST ACTEESS. 
 
 to assist poor Juliet, who -had turned deadly pale 
 and was sinking from iier cbair in a swoon. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong— apparently forgetting all that 
 she had been saying, and perhaps not for an in- 
 stant conceiving that it bad anything to do with 
 Juliet's sudden indisposition— flew to the mantel 
 to procure a bottle of sal-volatile salts ; while Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman, with mingled grief and conster- 
 nation on their countenances, rushed to assist me 
 in sustaining their daughter. 
 
 '•'Remove her into the adjoining room," et^id 
 Mrs. Oldcastle ; " and give her fresh air. — Do not 
 trouble yourself, Mrs. Armstrong," she added ; 
 "Juliet is with those who will take care of her; 
 and do you remain with me. Yes, it is perfectly 
 true that Juliet stayed at tny house five or six 
 months ago ; and I mean to take her there with 
 me again." 
 
 These words met the ears of Mr. an4 Mrs. Nor- 
 mnn and myself as we were conveyiDg the inani- 
 mate form cf Juliet into the next room. The 
 speech startled us; and we exchanged rapid 
 glances of amazement. Indeed, we could scarcely 
 believe our own ears. We closed the folding-door 
 behind us ; and placing Juliet on a sofa, adminis- 
 tered restoratives. She soon began to recover; 
 and in the meanwhile we heard Mrs. Armstrong 
 taking her departure. Aunt Oldcastle had evi- 
 dently managed to get rid of her; and this seemed 
 to be another proof that there was some design 
 on the part of the old lady which we could not 
 fathom — unless it were by the conjecture that 
 having seen some falsehood had been told, she did 
 not wish to expose her relatives, and therefore was 
 generously shielding them. 
 
 Juliet opened her eyes ; and looking around, she 
 sajd in a mournful voice, "Now everything is dis- 
 covered !" 
 
 " Hush, my dear child ! — hush !" said Mrs. 
 Norman: and the next instant the folding-door 
 opening, Mrs. Oldcastle made her appearance. 
 
 Our glances were all flung quickly, anxiously, 
 and searchingly upon her countenance ; but there 
 was nothing very ominous nor menacing in its 
 expression. She advanced towards the sofa; and 
 sitting down, took Juliet's hand, saying, " I hope, 
 my dear, that you are better now ?" 
 
 "Yes— thank you, aunt," replied Juliet, blush- 
 ing and full of confusion. 
 
 "These sudden indispositions do take place at 
 times," continued Mrs. Oldcastle, with an air as if 
 she veritably meant what she said, and was not 
 by any means seeking an excuse to restore Juliet 
 to self-possession and confidence. " By the bye, 
 Mr. Norman, I think as this is the last day I 
 shall spend at your house, you may as well direct 
 the servants to say you are not at home to any 
 other visitors." 
 
 Mr. Norman hastened with alacrity to obey this 
 instruction ; and Mrs. Oldcastle continued to 
 speak in an affectionate manner to Juliet. At 
 length we all returned to the front drawing- 
 room; and Mrs. Oldcastle went on conversing just 
 as if nothing had occurred to alter her good opinion 
 of the Normans — but on the contrary, as if some- 
 thing had happened to confina it. I could scarcely 
 understand her conduct. Did she suspect Juliet's 
 secret? — had she fathomed it? — were her eympa- 
 thies enlisted ou behalf of the unfortunate girl ? 
 —and was she resolved to display compassion 
 
 where anger might have been expected ? The 
 Normans themselves were as much at a loss as I 
 was to interpret the old lady's conduct otherwise 
 than by similar conjectures ; and at all events it 
 was a material solace, as well as a relief frota 
 much cruel embarrassment, to find that she was 
 behaving thus. 
 
 It was about an hour before dinner-time that 
 Mrs. Oldcastle left off knitting— deliberately rolled 
 up her work round the needles —deposited it in 
 her great bag; — and taking off her horn spec- 
 tacles with the large circular glasses, she evidently- 
 prepared herself for some serious announcement 
 or proposition. 
 
 "Mr. Norman," she at length said, "canyott 
 part from your daughter for a time ?" 
 
 "Part with her?" he faltered forth. "Why, 
 my dear aunt— the proposal comes so unex- 
 pected not but that it is very kind^ ■" 
 
 "Oh, excessively kind 1" interjected Mrs. Nor- 
 man. " But I am afraid ' " 
 
 " Juliet, my dear," said Mrs. Oldcastle, turning 
 towards Miss Norman, " will you come and spend 
 a few months with me ?" 
 
 Juliet was once more full of confusion: her 
 cheeks for an instant glowed with blushes, and 
 then became deadly white. Mrs. Oldcastle looked 
 astonished; and she slowly gazed from one to the 
 other,— her mouth gradually pursing up, and the 
 4ark cloud gathering upon her features. 
 
 " I certainly did not expect this hesitation," she 
 at length said. " My aim could scarcely be mis- 
 taken. You know, Mr. Norman, that I have it ia 
 my power to leave some one a few pounds at my 
 death; and I therefore thought But no mat- 
 ter!" she abruptly checked herself. "Let the 
 subject drop. There is an end of it !" 
 
 Tho teats were now trickling down Juliet's 
 cheeks; and unable to restrain her emotions, she 
 abruptly rose and quitted the room. 
 
 " Go and attend to your daughter," said Mrs. 
 Oldcastle to Mrs. Norman ; " and tell her that I 
 am by no means angry with her." 
 
 Mrs. Norman retired accordingly : Mr. Norman 
 endeavoured to stammer out some sort of apology 
 for the hesitation with which the aunt's proposal 
 had been received : but the old lady cut him short 
 by saying, " Not another syllable, if you please, 
 upon the subject !" 
 
 I now quitted the room, and hastened to rejoin 
 Juliet,— whom I found weeping passionately on 
 her mother's bosom. 
 
 " Oh, how unhappy I am !" she murmured 
 amidst her sobs. " To be unable to accept the 
 invitation — to lose perhaps every chance of find- 
 ing favour in the eyes of my relative " 
 
 "Console yourself, my dear girl," said Mrs. 
 Norman, who was herself weeping. "It is im- 
 possible to recall the past ; and all the regrets in 
 the world will not amend it." 
 
 Juliet presently became more tranquil : but 
 when we descended to the dining-room, her eyes 
 still betrayed the traces of recent weeping. The 
 old aunt continued to maintain an affectionate de- 
 meanour towards Juliet, and one of kindness to- 
 wards myself; but in respect to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman I fancied that she was a little more cold 
 and distant than she had at any time been since 
 her first appearance at tho house. After dinner 
 they were compelled to repair to the theatre: but
 
 ELLEN PKECT ; OE, THE MEM0I118 OP ATT ACTEE8S. 
 
 in 
 
 I remained at home. A note was presently de- 
 Kvered to me. It was from Frances Howard ; and 
 the handwriting was beautitully ladj-likc. It an- 
 nounced the success of her interview with Mr. 
 Richards ; and it contained the warmest expres- 
 sions of gratitude for my friendly intervention iu 
 her behalf. 
 
 Juliet and I sat with Mrs. Oldcastle ia the 
 drawing-room ; and it occurred to me that the 
 elderly lady was fidgetting somewhat, as if she 
 sought an opportunity to speak to me alone. At 
 length she intimated that if either Juliet or my- 
 self wished to retire to any other room, or amuse 
 ourselves elsewhere in any way, she hoped that 
 her presence would not prove a restraint upon us. 
 I seized aa opportunity to whisper to Juliet, 
 "Leave ua together for half-an-hour : I am con- 
 vinced Mrs. Oldcastlo wishes to speak to me 
 alone !" 
 
 Juliet shortly afterwards retired on some pre- 
 text ; and when the door closed behind her, I ob- 
 served that Mrs. Oldcastle surveyed me with a 
 scrutinizing attention. 
 
 " Miss Percy," at length she said, " I want to 
 have a little conversation with you. I wonder 
 whether you will deal frankly and candidly with 
 me?" 
 
 I knew not precisely what answer to make; and 
 while I was reflecting, Mrs. Oldcastle continued 
 in the following manner: — 
 
 " You already know that for a long series of 
 years I have remained aloof from my relatives. I 
 have been estranged from them. To speak candidly, 
 I hated and loathed the stage : but with an equal 
 honest frankness will I admit that my sojourn be- 
 neath this roof has tended to disabuse me of much 
 of that prejudice. For some little time past I 
 have been thinking that perhaps I was wrong to 
 discard my relatives altogether : I felt that old age 
 and infirmities were creeping over me : and I 
 thought it was time that I should look around to 
 decide who is to inherit whatsoever I may have to 
 leave. I came to London to see the Normans; 
 and this day I was prepared to adopt Juliet as my 
 heiress. But things have been taking place which 
 I cannot comprehend : mystery has enveloped the 
 scenes that have been passing around me. First 
 of all I comprehended that my name had been 
 made use of by the Normans in some manner 
 utterly at variance with the truth : but I was dis- 
 posed to overlook this circumstance, — trusting that 
 when it should be sooner or later explained, the 
 object of the untruth would be found to be of a 
 venial character. You saw therefore that I shielded 
 my relatives from exposure iu the presence of that 
 gossiping Mrs. Armstrong. But they recused to 
 accept the proposition which I made that Juliet 
 should accompany me — I cannot understand it ! 
 Now, Miss Percy, it is from your lips only that I 
 choose to seek explanations; and I tell youtrankly 
 that in the hour which is passing Juliet's fate will 
 be decided, so far as I am concerned — I mean 
 whether at my death she shall be an heiress or 
 not?" 
 
 "Would it not be better, madam," I replied, 
 seriously embarrassed, " that you should require 
 explanations from Mr. Norman ?" 
 
 "It does not suit me to do so, Miss Percy," re- 
 plied Mrs. Oldcastle severely. " The Normans 
 have evidently been telling untruths of some kind 
 
 or another : but from i/our lips I have not once 
 heard a single syllable to make me mistrust the 
 sincerity of your character. To i/ou, therefore do 
 I address myself. You have admitted that there 
 are explanations to give : I now desire to know 
 whether you will give them." 
 
 " Granting that there be family secrets, Mrs. 
 Oldcastle," I said, " you must comprehend that it 
 is not for me, who enjoy a home beneath this roof, 
 to betray them." 
 
 The old lady reflected for some moments, during 
 which she continued to sit upright, as prim and as 
 starch as if she were an old maid, and her mouth 
 ominously pursed up. 
 
 "There are family secrets — eh?" she resumed, 
 after a long silence ; " and these secrets are to be 
 concealed from the knowledge of the old aunt. 
 Then what inference can I draw P Only one !— 
 which is that these secrets involve some circum- 
 stance but little creditable to Juliet." 
 
 " I declare to you, madam," I vehemently ex- 
 claimed, " your grand-niece is as good and honour- 
 able a young woman - " 
 
 " I believe you, Miss Percy I" interrupted Mrs. 
 Oldcastle ; " and I offer you a thousand thanks for 
 the assurance. — Juliet is good and honourable," she 
 continued in a musing strain ; " yet she is evi- 
 dently unhappy — the cause of her unhappiness is 
 kept a secret — and what in this world is ever con- 
 nected with the unhappiness of young women un- 
 less it be some love-affair ?" 
 
 She bent her eyes inquiringly upon me : but I 
 remained silent. 
 
 " Some months ago," continued Mrs. Oldcastle, 
 again in a musing manner, " it was alleged that 
 Juliet came on a visit to me at Dover. Doubtless 
 this was a pretext to account for her absence from 
 home. For what reason could a young female 
 need such a pretext ? Ah, Miss Percy ! unless 
 your friend Juliet bo privately married, I fear 
 that you yourself can have scarcely spoken the 
 truth when you proclaimed her to be so good and 
 virtuous !" 
 
 " Madam," I ejaculated, " I am utterly inca- 
 pable of deceiving you on such a point. But you 
 must not catechise me thus !" 
 
 " Listen, Miss Percy !" said the old lady. " If 
 Juliet be really all you have represented her, she 
 deserves to become my heiress : but it is impossi- 
 ble that in utter ignorance of all the circumstances 
 which surround her, I can bequeath her whatso- 
 ever fortune I may have to leave. She is evidently 
 unhappy. You tell me that she has not erred. 
 Then she may be unfortunate ?— and if unfortu- 
 nate, why should her misi'jrtunes be concealed from 
 me as if they were crimes ? The destiny of Juliet 
 is veritably in your hands at the present moment. 
 Eemain silent, and I drop the subject for over : but 
 deal with me frankly, and I declare that if Juliet 
 be only unfortunate, and not erring, I will fulfil 
 towards her all the intentions which a few hours 
 ago I had harboured." 
 
 At this moment a female servant entered ; and 
 addressing me, she said, " If you please. Miss, will 
 you go to Miss Norman ? for I am sure she is very 
 unwell." 
 
 I started up from my chair; and Mrs. Oldcastle, 
 likewise rising, said, " Miss Percy, I will accom- 
 pany you." 
 
 I dared not offer any objection ; and we hastened
 
 together to Juliet's chamber. My poor friend was 
 Ijing upon the sofa : and she bad loosened all her 
 garments ; for, as I subsequently learnt, she had 
 felt as if she were about to swoon. She bad like- 
 wise rung the bell and desired the maid to fetch 
 me ; for she was afraid of being left alone in her 
 chamber, lest she should sink completely off into a 
 fit. Indeed, she was so unwell when Mrs. Old- 
 castle and myself entered the room, that she did 
 not immediately perceive her relative was with 
 ine. I supported her in my arms ; and Mrs. Old- 
 castle, advancing towards her, spoke most kindly 
 and affectionately. Juliet was galvanized by her 
 voice into completest life once more ; and she 
 Btared almost wildly upon the old lady. 
 
 " You are better now, my dear child," said Mrs. 
 Oldcastle. " I will leave you with your friend ; 
 and I hope that presently you will be enabled to 
 join me in the drawing-room." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mrs. Oldcastle somewhat 
 abruptly quitted the chamber. 
 
 " Good heavens, how wretched and miserable I 
 am, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet, throwing her arms 
 about my neck and weeping passionately. " What 
 has she been saying to you ? Does she suspect- 
 does she know " 
 
 " She knows nothing," I hastily replied ; " fori 
 would not for the world betray your secret." 
 
 I then gave Juliet a rapid outline of what had 
 taken place between her aunt and myself,- and I 
 concluded by observing, "If you were to follow 
 my advice, Juliet, you would tell her every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Let me think over it," said Juliet : " it is a 
 step that must not be taken in a hurry, and at all 
 events not without the concurrence of my parents. 
 Eeturn to her — or she will think I am worse than 
 I really am. Leave me to myself a little : I am 
 quite well now — the indisposition has passed — 
 and I will rejoin you presently in the drawing: 
 room." 
 
 I complied with my friend's request ; and I re- 
 turned to the drawing-room. There Mrs. Old- 
 castle was seated, just as if she had never once 
 quitted her upright prim position in the chair 
 which she occupied. 
 
 "I have been thinking, Miss Percy," she at 
 once said, " upon all that has passed between us ; 
 and as I am convinced that you yourself are 
 truthful, I shall act upon the assurance you have 
 given me in respect to Juliet. You will presently 
 see how. — And now, if you will not think me im- 
 pertinent, might I ask a question in reference to 
 yourself ? I understand that you are an orphan : 
 do you happen to know if there be any kinship 
 between yourself and a family of the same name 
 that dwelt a long time back in one of the northern 
 counties r" 
 
 " Grood heavens — yes !" I exclaimed. " But 
 why do you ask ? Oh ! I remember that when 
 my name was first mentioned to you, Mrs. Old- 
 castle, you appeared startled and surprised ! Yes 
 i— and you are agitated now !" 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me, Ellen," she asked, with 
 rapid utterance, and for the first time calling me 
 by my Christian name, — " do you mean to tell me 
 that you belong to a family which was associated 
 with the Forsyths and the Wakefields ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes !— that is my family ! My unfortu- 
 nate father " 
 
 But I stopped short ; and I trembled exces- 
 sively — for I saw by Mrs. Oldcastle's look and 
 manner that my father's guilt of former days was 
 no secret to her. Her eyes were fixed upon me 
 with a degree of compassionate interest which I 
 had previously thought her countenance to be but 
 little capable of expressing. 
 
 "My poor child," she said, " this is a most sin- 
 gular coincidence. Perhaps there is even some- 
 thing providential in it ! Your father — the un- 
 fortunate Charles Percy for I will not use 
 
 harsher language while speaking of him was 
 
 the nephew of my husband— the only son of that 
 husband's much loved sister !" 
 
 " Yes— this is strange indeed !" I murmured, as 
 Mrs. Oldcastle kissed me several times upon the 
 forehead. 
 
 " It is not however singular," she proceeded to 
 observe, " that the Normans should never have sus- 
 pected the connexion : for they knew nothing of my 
 husband, nor of his family or relations. — And 
 your father, Ellen — he has long since been dead- 
 has he not ?" 
 
 The tears were streaming down my cheeks ; and 
 after some hesitation, I murmured, " No — he yet 
 lives !" 
 
 "He lives!" ejaculated Mrs. Oldcastle in as- 
 tonishment. " A rumour of his death was long 
 ago wafted to me — I remember not precisely how 
 But where is he ?" 
 
 " Oh, do not ask me !" I exclaimed, with pas- 
 sionate grief; for I thought that if ever Mrs. 
 Oldcastle should learn the secret of Juliet's mis- 
 fortunes, she would at the same time comprehend 
 that the Mr. Croft who was so fatally connected 
 therewith, was none other than my own father, 
 — I mean that she would make this discovery if I 
 were now to reveal to her that he was passing 
 under that name of Croft. 
 
 " Yes — I understand, poor child !" she said, 
 again kissing me : " it is only too painful a sub- 
 ject for you !" — and she evidently thoup^ht my 
 father was still in a penal colony. " Are the 
 Normans acquainted " 
 
 "No— Ob, no!" I exclaimed : "that is a secret 
 which I would not have known even to my best 
 and dearest friends !" 
 
 " And this secret shall be kept inviolate," said 
 Mrs. Oldcastle. "Nothing of all that has now taken 
 place between us, need be mentioned — none of 
 these explanations — no, not even the fact tliat 
 there is the slightest kinship betwixt yourself and 
 me ! At the same time, my dear Ellen, rest as- 
 sured that I shall not forget that which we never- 
 theless agree to retain secret. Continue to be a 
 good girl— as you now are ; and you shall find at 
 my death that I have not failed to remember you. 
 And now not another word 1" 
 
 Thus speaking, Mrs. Oldcastle again kissed me ; 
 and she placed her finger upon my lips to silenco 
 the expressions of gratitude to which I was about 
 to give utterance in acknowledgment of her gene- 
 rous intentions towards me. AVe resumed our 
 seats; and we had scarcely composed our looks, 
 when Juliet made her appearance. 
 
 " My dear girl," said Mrs. Oldcastle, after a 
 kind inquiry how she felt, "you may make your 
 arrangements to accompany me to Dover to- 
 morrow. You shall at least pass a week with me ; 
 and if at the expiration of that time you wish to
 
 rejoin your family circle at home, I shall not offer 
 the slightest objection— neither shall I be offended. 
 Come! surely you will accept this proposition? 
 You will not find me a cross crabbed old woman — 
 but one who will endeavour to amuse you. I 
 Lave some atonements to make for past neglect 
 
 But of that no matter ! I am now going to 
 
 take my leave ; you will tell your parents what 
 my wishes are; and to-morrow morning at ten 
 o'clock I shall be here in a post-chaise to fetch 
 you." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mrs. Oldcastle rang the 
 bell ; and when a domestic answered the sum- 
 mons, she ordered a cab to be fetched. She then 
 affectionately embraced Juliet; and turning to 
 me, she said, " I mast likewise kiss your sweet 
 young friend Ellen, whom I really love aa much as 
 yourself." 
 
 I saw that these words were purposely uttered 
 with a significancy intended for my comprehen- 
 sion only ; and Mrs. Oldcastle took her departure. 
 
 "What do you understand by all this?" in- 
 quired Juliet when the elderly lady was gone. 
 
 " I understand by it," I replied, " that Mrs. 
 Oldcastle will yet prove an excellent friend to you, 
 Juliet ; and I am much mistaken if in the long 
 run she will not become the means of extricating 
 you from the embarrassments of your position, 
 rather than of plunging you into still greater per- 
 plexities." 
 
 " Do you think— do you imagine " 
 
 " Let us not waste our time in speculation or 
 conjecture," I interrupted my friend. "Mrs. Old- 
 castle asks you only to remain a week with her ; 
 and during that period you will doubtless learn to 
 know her better than you now do." 
 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Norman returned from the 
 theatre, they were much delighted with the intelli- 
 gence that matters were so amicably arranged with 
 the old aunt, and that Juliet was to spend a week 
 with her. The reader cannot have failed to under- 
 stand that they were afraid, in the first instance, 
 that if Juliet had accepted an invitation for several 
 months, she could not well withdraw herself from 
 Dover in the course of a few weeks without ex- 
 citing suspicion: and yet it was but for a few 
 weeks longer that she could conceal her situation 
 from the world. Thus the sort of compromise 
 effected with the aunt was most agreeable to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman. 
 
 On the following day, punctually as the clock 
 was striking ten in the forenoon, a post-chaise 
 drove up to the door of the house in Hunter-street. 
 As we all looked from the window, we were sur- 
 prised on beholding a domestic in livery and a 
 female- servant (evidently a lady's-maid) seated in 
 the rumble. Both were elderly ; and the I'ootman 
 was stout, red-faced, and comfortable-looking. 
 
 "Depend upon it," said Mr. Norman, "aunt 
 Oldcastle is much richer than we even fancied ; 
 and I dare say, my dear Julie, you will find that 
 she lives in far better style than we could have 
 possibly conceived." 
 
 Mrs. Oldcastle would not alight : Juliet's trunk 
 was ready packed ; and the farewells were said. 
 We saw her into the post-chaise : we shook hands 
 with Mrs. Oldcastle : but she pressed mine, and 
 bent upon me a significant look as much as to 
 oonvey the assurance that she would nut forget 
 me. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 IHE TEST OP LOVE. 
 
 The morning's post brought me a note from Lady 
 Cecilia Urban, requesting that I would call upon 
 her. It was worded not merely in a courteous, 
 but even in a friendly style ; and it named the 
 hour of noon as that at which my presence was 
 required at her mansion in Grosvenor Square. I 
 proceeded thither according to the appointment; 
 and was at once shown up into a splendidly fur- 
 nished apartment, where Lady Cecilia was seated. 
 She rose to receive me — gave me her hand — and 
 said with some degree of emotion, " I think, Misa 
 Trafford, that after all I shall have to thank you 
 for saving me from an alliance which would not 
 prove conducive to my happiness." 
 
 " Your ladyship has doubtless heard from Mr. 
 Croft ?" I said, taking the seat which Cecilia indi- 
 cated, while she resumed her own. 
 
 "Yes— I have heard from Mr. Croft," she an- 
 swered. " His letter reached me yesterday ; and 
 though it is cautiously worded — mentioning no 
 name but that of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe — yet 
 does it convey sufficient to make me shudder at 
 the abyss upon which I have been standing. At 
 the same time, Miss Trafford, the whole proceeding 
 is involved in so much mystery " 
 
 " That your ladyship," I interjected, " can 
 scarcely yet place reliance upon the allegations 
 made against the character of Lord Frederick ? At 
 this incredulity I cannot be astonished——" 
 
 " No, Mis3 Trafford," she interrupted me, speak- 
 ing in a serious tone ; "it is not incredulity. Did 
 I believe that you were capable of playing an in- 
 famous part, I should not have written in a 
 friendly strain ; nor should I give you such a re- 
 ception as that which you now experience. There 
 are things in this world which one believes, but 
 upon which nevertheless one dares not act without 
 having previously obtained corroborative evidence. 
 You yourself suggested that I should put Lord 
 Frederick to some test : and I am about to follow 
 your advice. He will be here almost imme- 
 diately " 
 
 " Might he not learn from the servants that I 
 also am here ?" I asked ; " and your ladyship will 
 be kind enough to remember that all which has 
 taken place between us, is to remain a profound 
 secret with his lordship." 
 
 " I have not forgotten the pledge which I gave 
 you to that effect," replied Lady Cecilia. " The 
 servants have received my instructions ; and your 
 presence in the house will be unknown to Lord 
 Frederick. See !" she continued, rising from her 
 seat, and advancing towards a pair of folding doors 
 on one side of the room, which corresponded with 
 another pair precisely opposite : " any one in the 
 inner room can overhear what is passing in this 
 apartment. It is the same with the room to which 
 those opposite doors lead. — Can you give me an 
 hour of your time ?" 
 
 " With pleasure, my lady," I answered : for I 
 was as much pleased as astonished at the exceed- 
 ing urbanity of her manner towards me. 
 
 "Then have the goodness to take your place in 
 this inner room," continued Cecilia Urban ; "and 
 do not be afraid to listen at the doors : for I wish
 
 174 
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OH, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 and mean you to do so— aud no one v. ill cater to 
 iuterfero witli you." 
 
 I accordingly passed iuto the adjoining room : 
 her ladyship closed the folding doors, — she herself 
 remaining in the apartment where she had first 
 received me, and which, as the reader comprehends, 
 was the central one of a suite of three. Almost 
 immediately afterwards a loud double knock re- 
 sounded through the house; and in a few moments 
 I heard the name of Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe 
 announced in the adjoining room. 
 
 " Dearest Cecilia !" exclaimed tho young noble- 
 man, when the door had closed behind him and 
 the domestic had retired ; " you are about to 
 reader me supremely happy by positively fixing 
 the day when our nuptials are to take place !" 
 
 " But first tell me, Frederick," responded her 
 ladyship, ia a half gay, half serious tone, " whether 
 you really love me so fondly as you have de- 
 clared ?" 
 
 "Can you doubfc it? Oh, is it possible that 
 you can doubfc it ?" cried RavensclifiFe, with a tone 
 of so much sincerity that it must have doubtless 
 bewildered the young lady in the presence of the 
 allegations made against her suitor. 
 
 "No, no~I do not doubfc it!" she replied. 
 "Bufc still-—" 
 
 "Ah, dearest! I comprehend you!" ejaculated 
 Lord Frederick. " Yes : for I know how sweet it 
 is to receive over and over again from i/our lips 
 the assurance of your love, — that assurance which 
 never can be reiterated too often ! Oh, you know 
 I love you!" 
 
 " And for myself alone ?" asked Cecilia, as if in 
 a fondly murmuring voice. 
 
 " Oh ! can you fancy that there is any alloy of 
 selfishness iu my love ?" he exclaimed, in that 
 gushing tone of enthusiasm which had so fatally 
 beguiled poor Juliet, and which it was indeed so 
 difiicult to disbelieve. " It is true, Cecilia, that 
 according to report you are far wealthier than I 
 can ever hope to be : bufc surely, surely the de- 
 voted love which I bear you cannot be sus- 
 pected ?" 
 
 " No, no !" she interrupted him, " I do not 
 suspect you ! But the step I am about to take is 
 a serious one; and every fresh assurance I receive 
 from your lips is an additional guarantee of the 
 genuine sincerity of your affection. Tell me, Fre- 
 derick — repeat those dear words which you yester- 
 day breathed in my ear 1 am the first whom 
 
 you ever loved P" 
 
 "Oh, I swear it!— most solemnly do I swear 
 it !" exclaimed Lord Frederick : and I, who was 
 an unseen listener at all that was passing in the 
 adjacent room, trembled at tho stupendous per- 
 jury which had just been committed. 
 
 " The only one whom you have ever loved P" 
 said Cecilia, murmuringly. "Ah ! it is delightful 
 to receive this assurance ! For such sad tales are 
 sometimes told of man's duplicity aud deceit " 
 
 "Cecilia!" ejaculated Bavenscliflfe, "I take 
 heaven to witness the vow that I am incapable of 
 deceiving you !" 
 
 Again I shuddered at his perjury; and that 
 moment another double knock resounded through 
 the house. In a few moments I heard the foot- 
 man enter the adjoining room ; and he said, " If 
 you please, my lady, Mr. Lockhart has called to 
 Bee your ladyship upon business." 
 
 "How provoking!" ejaculated Cecilia; "and 
 without sending me any previous notice of his in- 
 tention ! Well, I suppose that I must see him. — 
 Show Mr. Lockhart up, James." 
 
 "Yes, my lady:" — and I heard the domestic 
 retire. 
 
 " It is only my solicitor," Lady Cecilia now 
 hastily said to Lord Frederick. " I do not think 
 he can detain me long: you will not perhaps 
 mind waiting during his visit ? You can pass 
 into the adjoining room : you will find books and 
 newspapers there— and it is of no consequence," 
 she added with a laugh that sounded gay and 
 gleeful, " that the foldingdoois are but slight : for 
 I can have no secrets with my lawyer which yoit, 
 Frederick, may not overhear." 
 
 I heard one of the leaves of the opposite folding- 
 doors open and shut ; aud I knew that Lady Ce- 
 cilia once more remained alone in the central 
 apartment of the suite. In less than a minute 
 tho domestic reappeared, announcing Mr. Lock- 
 hart, 
 
 " I suppose I must bid you welcome, my dear 
 sir," exclaimed Lady Cecilia with a tone of play- 
 ful reproach, " as an old friend of the family : but 
 really you ought to have sent me notice of your 
 intention to pay this visit : for I see that it ia a 
 professional one. Heavens ! that ominous bag, looic- 
 ing so plethoric with papers which imagination 
 depicts as dingy and dusty— and all tied round 
 with red tapes! But you surely do not mean to 
 inflict the reading of them upon me ?" 
 
 " That must be according to your ladyship's 
 pleasure," answered a loud-spea-iag voice; so 
 that I was quite sure Lord Frederick must over- 
 hear as plainly as I could everything that was 
 about to take place; and I had no doubt that his 
 curiosity was rendering him an attentive listener. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Lockhart," said Lady Cecilia, in a 
 tone which sounded slightly petulant, as if with 
 true patrician indolence she were impatient of any- 
 thing that savoured of the stern realities of business; 
 " if we must get to these musty parchments, pray 
 be quick. But Oh! I begin to observe that your 
 countenance is more than ordinarily serious. 
 Surely there can be nothing but the most satis- 
 factory account to be rendered of the property for 
 which you are one of the trustees ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say, my lady," replied Mr. 
 Lockhart, " that I have indeed evil intelligence 
 for you; and under existing circumstances — I 
 allude to the communication with which your 
 ladyship honoured me a few days ago, in respect 
 to your contemplated alliance with Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe " 
 
 "For heaven's sake spare set speeches, Mr. 
 Lockhart," exclaimed Lady Cecilia, ia accents 
 that appeared to be replete with suspease ; " and 
 come to the point at once." 
 
 "I was about to observe, my lady," continued 
 Mr. Lockhar^, " that under existing circumstances 
 I deemed it my duty to lose not an instant in 
 communicating the sad— tho afflicting intelligence 
 which has just come to my knowledge 
 
 " Grood heavens, Mr. Loclihart !" cried Cecilia : 
 "you alarm mS ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 '• Prepare yourself, my lady, for aa announce- 
 ment which I can assure you it distresses me to 
 make — but one which nevertheless must bo made. 
 At the same time it is really fortunate thdt you are
 
 ELtEBT PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IB8 OV XTH ACTEE83. 
 
 175 
 
 engaged to wed an honourable young nobleman, 
 whose love and attaehtnent will not be impaired 
 by the change that i8 taking place in your for- 
 tunos " 
 
 " Mr. Lockhart, you are driving me mad !" ex- 
 claimed Cecilia. "Pray have mercy upon me! — 
 relieve me from suspense! What is this dreadful 
 intelligence? Am I not the heiress of the vast 
 domains belonging to the house of Eythorne ? 
 Speak !— tell me!" 
 
 '• Without entering for the present into minute 
 particulars," answered Mr. Lockhart , " it will be 
 Buflicieut — alas ! more than sufficient, for me to 
 
 announce Do for heaven's sake. Lady Cecilia, 
 
 summon all your fortitude to your aid " 
 
 " Yes, yes — I am firm ! indeed I am firm !" she 
 exclaimed : but the voice appeared to come from 
 the throat of one who was shivering and shudder- 
 ing. " Go on ! You mean to tell me that it is all 
 a delusion and that I am a beggar ?" 
 
 " Pray, my dear Lady Cecilia, do not speak so 
 bitterly as this ! You know not how much I my- 
 self am distressed !" — and the lawyer's voice was 
 of a tone to corroborate the assurance. " As for 
 the strong terms that you have used, that you are 
 a beggar— it is not quite so bad as that. But in- 
 stead of being the heiress to fifteen thousand a-year, 
 I am sorry to say that a bare five or six hundred 
 will be all that your ladyship has to rely upon. 
 We made sure that your cousin — your late father's 
 nephew — was dead— that he had perished at sea — 
 but he has suddenly reappeared " 
 
 " Enough, Mr. Lockhart l" interrupted Lady 
 Cecilia. " If my cousin be alive, he is undoubtedly 
 heir to the title and estates of Eythorne. There 
 is no disputing this fact : nor would I do so, if any 
 legal quibble were to open the door to litigation. 
 As for any other particulars — and as for the perusal 
 of those deeds, which you have doubtless brought 
 to prove the fact of my cousin's right and title — 
 have the kindness to let all this stand over until 
 to-morrow. Your word is sufficient, Mr. Lock- 
 hart. I thank you for the delicacy with which you 
 have broken this painful intelligence to me. And 
 now leave me!" 
 
 " I can assure you, my lady, it has been a most 
 painful task for me," said the lawyer. " I will 
 leave you. I know the strength of your mind ; 
 and I again congratulate you on your approaching 
 nuptials with a young nobleman who loves you for 
 yourself alone, and not for the property which you 
 were supposed to possess." 
 
 Mr. L'lckhart then took his leave ; and as the 
 door closed behind him, I heard a sound like a 
 burst of convulsing anguish from the lips of Lady 
 Cecilia Urban. 1 peeped through the key-hole, 
 and saw that she was seated upon a chair, with 
 downcast eyes, and looking the very picture of dis- 
 tress and woe. But all of a sudden— as if recol- 
 lecting something— she started up, and hastened 
 to open the folding-doors leading into the apart- 
 ment to which Lord Frederick Kavensclifie had 
 retired. As 1 afterwards learnt, she found him 
 seated at the table, apparently engaged with a 
 book : but she at once saw by his countenance that 
 he had overheard everything, and that he was asto- 
 nished as well as dismayed. lie rose from his chair, 
 and returned into the central drawing-room. 
 
 " Frederick, you know all !" said Lady Cecilia, 
 in accents of melting mournfulness. " I thought 
 
 to give you a fortune : but, alas ! it is only the 
 poorest pittance in the shape of gold that I can 
 bring with me as my dower. Of my love, how- 
 over, you know the strength " 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Lady Cecilia," inter- 
 rupted Lord Frederick, in a cold voice, " I fancied 
 just now, while we were together, that your love 
 could not be so very strong after all; becauae you 
 seemed to suspect mine- and you also endeavoured 
 to pick a quarrel with me." 
 
 " Good heavens, Frederick ! what do you mean?" 
 exclaimed Lady Cecilia, in a voice which seemed 
 full of anguish. "I quarrel with you!" 
 
 " Well, it was something very much like it," 
 answered the young nobleman, doggedly if not 
 brutally ; " for you reminded me of the very seri- 
 ous step you were takiug " 
 
 " Oh ! it was merely to elicit fresh assurances 
 of love from your lipa !" cried the young lady. 
 
 " Well, but I was thinking," continued Havens- 
 cliffe, "even before I heard a syllable of what was 
 
 passing betwixt you and the lawyer for of 
 
 course the loss of your fortune is no consideration 
 
 with me but I was thinking, I say, that there 
 
 was something incompatible in our tempers; for 
 you must admit. Lady Cecilia, that you are some- 
 what haughty and self-willed. And then too, I 
 did not at all like to bo told that you felt that you 
 were taking a very serious step : it looked as if 
 you half repented " 
 
 " This is cruel, Frederick — most cruel !" ex- 
 claimed Cecilia. " Your manner did not change 
 while we were together. On the contrary you 
 seemed to be pleased that I should endeavour to 
 elicit assurances of love from your lips. You 
 vowed eternal fidelity to me " 
 
 " Ah ! because I was bewildered and thrown off 
 my guard at the time," interjected Lord Fre- 
 derick. "There is no reason why we should not 
 be very good friends, Cecilia : but I really think 
 that I am best studying our mutual happiness by 
 recommending that everything we have so 
 seriously thought of should be at au end. Pray 
 do not attribute it to any selfishness on my 
 part " 
 
 "Hush!" ejaculated Lady Cecilia: "there ia 
 another knock at the door ! Hemain here, my 
 lord, for a few minutes, to compose your 
 looks " 
 
 Her ladyship ceased as the footman entered the 
 room, saying, " If you please, my lady, Mr. Lock- 
 hart has returned." 
 
 " Show him up," said Cecilia. 
 
 " I am here !" exclaimed the lawyer, now 
 making his appearance. " I have such joyful 
 news for you ! I could not help rushing back to 
 communicate them as soon as possible ! Only 
 think !— at the end of the street I met one of my 
 clerks, who was hurrying down here to bring a 
 piece of intelligence which had just reached the 
 office. A vile heartless trick has been perpetrated 
 upon me — a forged letter — in vulgar parlance, my 
 dear Lady Cecilia, a shameful hoax " 
 
 " Good heavens ! what mean you ?" exclaimed 
 the patrician lady, as if full of excitement. 
 
 " AllI told you is wrong!" cried Mr. Lockhart : 
 " your cousin has not appeared — he is positively 
 dead — and you are still the heiress, beyond the 
 possibility of dispute, to tho estates of Eythorne! 
 I congratutate you, ray dear Lady Cecilia— most
 
 176 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AW ACTRESS. 
 
 Bincerely do I congratulate jou ! — and I leave you 
 with ono who was doubtless consoling you to the 
 best of his endeavour, but who may now congra- 
 tulate you likewise." 
 
 Having thus spoken with rapid and vehement 
 utterance, Mr. Lockhart hurried from the room ; 
 and as I was subsequently informed, Lord Fre- 
 derick EavenscliflFe looked the very picture of 
 piteous confusion and consternation. Suddenly, 
 however, he burst into a laugh, exclaiming, " You 
 did not think, Cecilia, that I was really in earnest P 
 I was only " 
 
 " Enough, my lord !" she indignantly inter- 
 rupted him. "Accident has furnished me with 
 an opportunity of putting your love to the test. 
 Begone, sir ! You know not how inimitably I 
 despise you !" 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Cecilia !" said the young 
 nobleman : " it was only a freak — though a stupid 
 one, I confess, on my part " 
 
 "Add not to your baseness by these ridicu- 
 lous falsehoods !" cried her ladyship. " Begone, I 
 repeat. Whatsoever love I entertained for you 
 has now turned into hatred. No — hatred is too 
 strong a term : for it is only contempt which I 
 can henceforth experience for Lord Frederick Ea- 
 Tenscliffe !" 
 
 The young nobleman dared not give utterance 
 to another word : he saw that all attempt at ex- 
 planation was vain, and that it would be useless to 
 Lave recourse to entreaty. Thoroughly discom- 
 fited, crestfallen, and miserable, he issued from the 
 room J and almost immediately afterwards Lady 
 Cecilia joined me in the apartment where I had 
 been a listener to everything that had taken place. 
 There was the flush of excitement upon her couu- 
 tenance : but it speedily vanished, leaving her 
 cheeks very pale; and she said, "Yes, you were 
 not wrong, Miss Traiford : he is everything you de- 
 scribed him ! Thank God, I am saved, through 
 your agency, from the abyss upon the edge of 
 which I have been standing !" 
 
 "In one sense I am rejoiced. Lady Cecilia," I 
 answered : " but in another I am distressed " 
 
 " I need no sympathy, my dear friend," she 
 replied : " for as a friend I shall henceforth consi- 
 der you! I know that my cheeks have blanched : 
 but that is only with a natural revulsion of the 
 feelings. And in respect to yourself — Oh ! pardon 
 me if there have been anything supercilious or 
 unkind in my former demeanour towards you " 
 
 " Say not another word upon the subject !" I 
 interrupted her ; and 1 was much aflfected by the 
 way in which she looked and spoke. 
 
 "At least you will suffer me to call myself your 
 friend," she rejoined, taking my hand and pressing 
 it affectionately. " You have rendered me an im- 
 mense service; and I possess not an ungrateful 
 heart. Come and see me frequently : you will 
 always be welcome here. — Ah ! by the bye," she 
 exclaimed, " I need hardly inform you that the 
 whole proceeding was arranged between myself 
 and Mr. Lockhart ; and you must admit, my dear 
 Miss Trafford," added Cecilia, with a smile, " that 
 parts may be played to perfection in private life as 
 well as upon the stage. By the plan which I have 
 pursued. Lord Frederick cannot possibly suspect 
 that the proceeding was otherwise than genuine — 
 or that I had received any previous intimation 1 
 wiiich induced me to put him to the test. Thus 
 
 your connexion with anything that has taken 
 place can never be known." 
 
 I remained for some little while longer in con- 
 versation with Lady Cecilia Urban ; and when I 
 took my leave, she repeated her desire that I would 
 visit her frequently. I hastened home to Hunter 
 Street, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Norman the wel- 
 come assurance that everything was at an end 
 between Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe and Lady 
 Cecilia Urban. I did not however enter into the 
 particulars of all that had occurred ; for I consi- 
 dered the matter to be of too delicate a nature for 
 such unnecessary details. I wrote to Juliet, making 
 her a similar announcement; and I also wrote to 
 my father in the same sense. la this last-men- 
 tioned letter I explained to him how I had fallen 
 in with Mrs. Oldcastle, and how she had treated 
 me with the affectionate regard of a kinswoman. 
 
 A week passed,— at the expiration of which 
 time letters were received from Juliet. Their con- 
 tents did not excite in my mind much astonish- 
 ment ; but they afforded me as well as her parents 
 a considerable degree of satisfaction. She had 
 found that her aunt possessed many excellent 
 qualities, though they were concealed beneath a 
 demeanour which was cold and repelling until her 
 disposition and character were thorou^bly known. 
 She did not live in Dover itself — but in its imme- 
 diate neighbourhood, midway between the town 
 and the beautifully situated village of Eiver. Her 
 j house was not large: it was somewhat in the 
 cottage-style: but it was commodious; and the 
 furniture, though antiquated in its fashion, was 
 handsome. She led a secluded life, and received 
 very little society ; but she was surrounded by 
 every comfort, Indeed, it appeared that Mr. Nor- 
 man's prediction when Juliet was taking her de- 
 parture, was realized to the extent that Mrs. Old- 
 castle must be much better off than even her rela- 
 tions had expected. 
 
 But I must now explain the sources of the 
 satisfaction which Juliet's letters produced in the 
 minds of her parents and myself. When the week 
 for which she had been invited to Eiver House- 
 as Mrs. Oldcastle's dwelling was called — was just 
 about to expire, the elderly lady addressed her 
 niece in a serious but affectionate manner. She 
 told Juliet that she had discovered her secret—* 
 namely, that she was in a way to become a mother : 
 but at the same time she assured her she did not 
 believe she had wilfully erred or proved wantonly 
 frail, for that she placed implicit reliance on the 
 solemn averment that I had made in respect to 
 my unfortunate friend's honourable principles. On 
 hearing all this, Juliet had thrown herself into her 
 aunt's arms and had confessed everything. She told 
 Mrs. Oldcastle how cruelly she had been deceived 
 by Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe through the medium 
 of a mock marriage : and how I had penetrated 
 the infamy of the proceeding by means of a visit 
 to Embledon. Mrs. Oldcastle was by this narra« 
 tive made aware how her own name was used at 
 the time of that mock marriage, as a pretext and 
 a cover for Juliet's absence from home during 
 the period which she had regarded as a happy 
 honeymoon. The old lady was gratified to learn 
 that it was really for so venial a purpose her 
 name had been rendered available: but she was 
 bitterly indignant at the treatment her niece had 
 experienced on the part of Lord Frederick Eavens*
 
 liLLEX PEKCY; OK, THE JIEilOIKS OF AN ACTHE8S. 
 
 177 
 
 THE MARCHIONESS OF CAMPANLLLA. 
 
 cliffe. She expressed her desire that Juliet 
 bbould remain with her altogether, at least for the 
 present : she spoke of the discretion of her ser- 
 vants — and promised to make eycrj arrangement 
 so as to shield Juliet's honour from the world's 
 scandal, and protect the secret which so vitally re- 
 garded her reputation. Indeed, it appeared that 
 nothing could have been more kind, more consi- 
 derate, nor more affectionate than Mrs. Oldcnsi e's 
 conduct towards her niece j so that Juliet had 
 made up her mind to obey her aunt in all things 
 — coulident that her parents would approve of her 
 resolution in that respect. This approval indeed 
 was cheerfully given by Mr. and Mrs. Norman; 
 an4, my presaging words seemed to have every 
 Ko. 23. — Elles Peect. 
 
 prospect of a complete realization. For the reacer 
 will bear in mind that those words were to the 
 effect that I should be much mistaken if in the 
 long run Mrs. Oldcastle would not become the 
 means of extricating Juliet from the embarrass- 
 ments of her position, rather than of plunging her 
 into greater perplexities. 
 
 I should observe that Mrs. Oldcastle had made 
 the discovery of Juliet's secret on the occasion 
 when she had accompanied me to her chamber, 
 and when my much- wronged friend was so ex- 
 ceedingly indisposed that she hud loosened all her 
 garments to ward off the fainting-fit that she 
 ifearcd was approaching. It was thus fortunate 
 for Juliet that accident had revealed the secret
 
 178 
 
 SIXSK PEECT; OE, THB MBM0IE3 07 AW ACTEB88. 
 
 ■which her own lips had feared to confess. Mr 
 and IMts. iN'ormaa were most thankful for the' 
 course which circumstances were thus taking ; and 
 they penned letters in this sense to Mrs. Old- 
 castle. 
 
 I must now epeak of Frances Howard. This 
 lady paid me a second visit at the theatre, and 
 repeated in fervent words the gratitude she had 
 previously conveyed through the medium of a note. 
 She was evidently unsuspicious of the circum- 
 etance that her interview with that tall, dark' 
 complexioned man had been witnessed by me ; and 
 I of course said nothing on the subject, although 
 I still wondered what mysterious circumstances 
 oould possibly surround this interesting new ac- 
 quaintance of mine. I bade her come to me daily 
 and I would cheerfully give her lessons in the 
 dramatic art ; for Mr. Bichards had intimated to 
 her the necessity of practising a little before she 
 made her debut. She availed herself of my ser- 
 vices ; and I had much pleasure in rendering 
 them ; for I found that she was amiable and 
 gentle, accomplished and intelligent, polished in 
 her manners, and one who in every sense capti- 
 vated the heart of friendship. I have before 
 epoken of the beauty of her person : — all her 
 movements were full of elegance and grace ; and 
 I felt convinced that the sylphid form which I be- 
 held before me during the hours of practice, had 
 often glided through the maze of the dance in the 
 brilliantly lighted drawing-room. Thus, during 
 the week that I gave some requisite instructions 
 to Frances Howard, I became more and more in- 
 terested in her ; and from my mind was banished 
 every suspicion that could in any way make me 
 hesitate to bestow the fullest amount of my friend- 
 ship upon her. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIIL 
 
 PBAHCES HOWAED. 
 
 I BHOUliD observe that every evening throughout 
 the week of which I have just been speaking, 
 Frances Howard attended the theatre, that she 
 might study all the peculiarities of the stage pre- 
 vious to making her debut. My influence with 
 Mr. Eichards procured her every species of atten- 
 tion ; so that she had the lessee's own private box 
 at her disposal when she thought fit to retire to it 
 —or she might go behind the scenes at her plea- 
 sure. 
 
 The time was fixed for her debut ; and I am 
 now about to speak of the evening previous to the 
 one on which it was arranged for her to appear. I 
 remember that on this particular evening I ex- 
 perienced a reception more enthusiastic, if pos- 
 sible, than any I had previously known, flattering 
 as they all had been. Bouquets showered down 
 upon me in profusion; atid the entire audience 
 rose to receive the salutations through the me- 
 dium of which I conveyed my acknowledgments. 
 Having changed my apparel in the dressing-room, 
 I proceeded to join Frances Howard, who was in 
 the private box ; for I was desirous to bid her 
 be early with me on the morrow, that I might 
 devote an extra hour to the part which she had to 
 study. On repairing to that box, I found her en- 
 
 tirely alone, as usual — with the curtains drawn in 
 such a manner as to shut her out from the view of 
 the audience, but afifording her vision the complete 
 range of the stage. There was a glow upon the 
 cheeks that were ordinarily so pale ; and there was 
 an unusual lustre in her deep grey eyes. She at 
 once rose, grasped me by the hand, and said in a 
 voice where fervour and pathos were blended " I 
 congratulate you, dear Miss Traflford, on the bril- 
 liant triumph of this night !" 
 
 It was on my account that her enthusiasm was 
 excited: I looked upon her conduct as another 
 proof of the gratefulness of her disposition ; and I 
 replied, " Let me hope that similar triumphs are 
 in store for you." 
 
 She heaved a profound sigh : the colour forsook 
 her cheeks ; and she murmured something which 
 struck me to be in the Italian language. I had 
 learnt a little of that tongue when at school in the 
 neighbourhood of Chelsea ; and I had thus obtained 
 a smattering of it ; but I could not comprehend 
 the words that had just murmuringly fallen from 
 Frances Howard's lips. 
 
 " You were speaking in Italian P" I said, in a 
 gentle voice. 
 
 "Ah! was I?" she ejaculated, with a sudden 
 start, as if those words had been spoken involun- 
 tarily, and as if she were now surprised that she 
 should have been betrayed into the utterance of 
 them : then quickly recovering her self-possession, 
 she added, " Yes — I am acquainted with the 
 Italian language. Are you, Miss Trafiford .''" 
 
 "Very slightly," I responded; "and I did not 
 catch what you were saying." 
 
 Miss Howard flung upon me a glance as if to 
 thank me for an assurance that had given her 
 some relief; and she said, " Oh, how happy you 
 ought to be. Miss Trafi'ord, at the brilliancy of 
 these triumphs which you achieve upon the stage ! 
 To behold that crowded audience rise to greet you 
 with so much fervid enthusiasm ! — a Queen could 
 not receive a higher compliment !" 
 
 I smiled, and said, " Again let me express the 
 hope, my dear Miss Howard, that similar triumphs 
 are in store for you." 
 
 " This is generous — most generous on your 
 part !" replied the young lady : " because ■" 
 and she stopped short. 
 
 " Because," I rejoined, again smiling, " you are 
 about to adopt the same line of characters as those 
 which I have made my especial study ; and you 
 wonder that I should be free from the infection of 
 that jealousy and dread of rivalry which prevail, I 
 am sorry to say, to such an extent amongst the 
 votaries of the stage. Between you and me, my 
 dear Miss Howard, it will prove a generous 
 rivalry ; and you can believe me when I proclaim 
 the delight which I should experience in beholding 
 you as successful as myself. You will have a 
 crowded house to-morrow night : Mr. Richards j ist 
 now assured me that such will be the case. — But 
 there is only one thing I am afraid of " 
 
 " And what is that ?" asked Miss Howard 
 eagerly and anxiously, my words having evidently 
 smitten her with a sudden apprehension. 
 
 "Do not misunderstand me !" I hastened to oh- 
 serve. " That you possess talent — genius — I have 
 assured you more than once. But you are timid 
 — and you must collect all your fortitude for the 
 moment when you will stand in the presence of
 
 Bttsir pssct; oa, TBS BtEuotas of ait actbebs. 
 
 1^9 
 
 that crowded audience. It is on this point only 
 that I am apprehensive : for you seem to shrink 
 from the gaze of a multitude. Even in this 
 box " 
 
 "Ah!" said Miss Howard, smiling, "you ob- 
 serve that I keep the curtains closed? But it 
 really was through no shrinking from the notice of 
 the spectators : it was simply that I might all the 
 more completely concentrate my attention on what 
 was passing on the stage.— Do you know many of 
 the ladies and gentlemen who are present on this 
 occasion ?" — and she partially drew back the cur- 
 tain, at the same time looking up towards the 
 crowded house. 
 
 " In that box yonder," I replied, directing her 
 attention to a particular one, " the Duke and 
 Duchess of Ardleigh are seated. The Duchess, 
 you observe, is a splendid woman. That young 
 gentleman on her left hand, is her elder son, the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple. In yonder box you behold 
 Lady Cecilia Urban— a rich heiress. I have the 
 honour of her acquaintance. She is accompanied 
 
 by her aunt : but who that other lady is Grood 
 
 heavens, Miss Howard ! is anything the matter 
 with you ?" 
 
 I had glanced suddenly towards her, in order to 
 see if she were looking in the direction of that 
 second box on which I had sought to fix her notice ; 
 and I was astonished as well as dismayed to ob- 
 serve that she was terribly agitated. She was 
 ghastly pale : she had fallen back in her seat as if 
 about to faint. 
 
 " It is nothing— a sudden indisposition — it will 
 pass immediately," she murmured : and then, as if 
 struck by a thought, she dre>v the curtain to the 
 extent to which it was previously closed. 
 
 I felt convinced that her words had conveyed a 
 mere excuse, and that she had beheld some one 
 whose presence thus affected her. I thought of 
 the tall dark-complexioned man; and I looked at 
 her with inquiring earnestness. I was likewise 
 smitten with the dread lest any similar incident 
 should occur to unnerve her on the following 
 night. She was now recovering her self-possession 
 —but slowly, and as if with painful efforts. 
 
 "Miss Trafiford," she said, "it were improper — 
 it were imgenerous to deceive you. I have just 
 seen one whom I little expected to behold here to- 
 night ; I did not even know she was in England. 
 That lady who is seated next to the one that you 
 mentioned as an acquaintance of your's " 
 
 " Lady Cecilia Urban," I interjected. 
 
 " Yes — and the lady seated next to her," con- 
 tinued Miss Howard, " is the Marchioness of Cam- 
 
 "And you know her?" I said inquiringly. 
 
 "I know her," responded Frances in a voice 
 which was not merely low and deep, but which 
 had something peculiar in its accents. 
 
 " Do not think me impertinent," I continued ; 
 " but I fancy that you have known the Mar- 
 chioness in better days — and you feel a repugnance 
 at the idea that she may possibly be present to- 
 morrow evening to witness your first appearance 
 on the stage. But has it not already struck you. 
 Miss Howard, that you are certain to be recog- 
 nised by persons whom you have known else- 
 I where — and perhaps under far different circum- 
 stances ?" 
 
 " No, no ! I am not afraid of thai !" she quickly 
 
 responded: and then she added, after a brief 
 pause, and in a more subdued tone, " I have not 
 long been in England — I am completely unknown 
 
 in English society • I was for many years 
 
 abroad." 
 
 " And the Marchioness of Campanella is doubt- 
 less an Italian lady ?" I said. 
 
 "N"o," replied Miss Howard: "she is an Eng- 
 lish lady: but her husband is an Italian. He 
 represents one of the wealthiest and most ancient 
 families of Tuscany." 
 
 My companion now remained silent for some 
 minutes, apparently wrapped up in her thoughts. 
 Moving towards the opening of the curtain, I 
 peeped forth in the direction of Lady Cecilia 
 Urban's box ; and I looked attentively at the 
 Marchioness of Campanella. Though not strictly 
 beautiful, she possessed a most ploas'nij counte- 
 nance, the expression of which indicated an 
 amiable, kind, and gentle disposition. Her age 
 appeared to be about five or six and twenty : she 
 was tall in stature, with a shapa of admirable 
 symmetry ; and she had a beautiful complexion. 
 She was richly dressed — or I ought perhaps with 
 more propriety to use the word elegance in respect 
 to her apparel ; at the same time observing that 
 it was characterized by that exquisite taslo whicli 
 was purely Continental, and which she had doubt- 
 less acquired from her residence in foreign coun- 
 tries. She had auburn hair and blue eyes : her 
 features were not perfectly regular — but there was 
 an exceeding sweetness in the expression of the 
 mouth ; and her countenance was a complete oval. 
 I felt assured that the Marchioness of Campanella 
 was not a being who would look with scorn or 
 hauteur upon Frances Howard for the mere reasjii 
 that tlie latter had experienced adverse ciicua- 
 stances and was compelled to have recourse to the 
 stage as the means of earning her bread. 
 
 " You have studied the Marchioness atten- 
 tively," said Miss Howard, again breaking silence. 
 " What opinion have you formed of her charac- 
 ter ?" 
 
 "That she is amiable, generous, and kind- 
 hearted," I replied : " or else never was I more 
 deceived in the expression of a female counte- 
 nance 1" 
 
 " She is ! she is ! — she is all that you have de- 
 scribed her !" ejactJated Miss Howard, with consi- 
 derable excitement of manner. " And now I must 
 take my departure," she added, with what I 
 thought a strange abruptness. 
 
 I did not offer to convey her in the carriage to 
 her abode, for she had kept me in ignorance of her 
 residence; and I even fancied that if I proposed 
 to see her as far as the door of the theatre, it 
 might have the appearance of curiosity on my 
 part. I was therefore extending my hand to bid 
 her farewell until the morrow, — when, as if inspired 
 by a sudden thought, she said, " Will you not 
 walk with me to my humble lodging ? It is at 
 no great distance." 
 
 " Yes," I answered : " with pleasure !" — for it 
 struck me that my hitherto reserved companion 
 was now beginning to place confidence in me ; and 
 I must confess that the more I saw of her, the 
 greater became my curiosity to fathom the mys- 
 teries which evidently environed her. 
 
 We issued forth together from the theatre ; and 
 as the Normans' carriage was waiting, as usual, to
 
 180 
 
 ELLEN PEHCT; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTTIESS. 
 
 take me home, I said to Miss Howard, " Shall we 
 not use the equipage, however short the dis- 
 tance ?" 
 
 She hesitated for a moment— and then said, " I 
 forgot ! —you are not accustomed to walk through 
 the streets at such an hour. It was inconsiderate 
 on my part to make such a proposition ! Eeturn 
 you home, my dear Miss Trafford, in the carriage ; 
 and favour me with a call to-morrow, instead of 
 my keeping the appointment previously arranged 
 for your own abode. God knows that my address 
 is a humble one !— but I know that you are not too 
 proud to visit me there." 
 
 She mentioned the place of her abode ; and be- 
 fore I could give utterance to another word, she 
 glided rapidly away. I returned in the carriage 
 to Hunter Street, reflecting the while on all that 
 had taken place, and wondering whether the mor- 
 row would throw any additional light upon the 
 circumstances of Frances Howard. 
 
 After breakfast on the following morning, I set 
 out on foot to visit my new friend. I was com- 
 pletely ignorant of the street which she had named 
 to me ; and when I reached the neighbourhood in 
 which, according to her information, it was situated, 
 I was compelled to step into a shop and make ad- 
 ditional inquiries. A woman was serving at the 
 counter ; and when I put the question, she sur- 
 veyed me attentively before she answered it. At 
 length she said, " I suppose. Miss, it is for some 
 charitable purpose you are going to that street 
 —for it is a very poor one." 
 
 The thought flashed to my mind that it might 
 possibly be one which I could not enter with pro- 
 priety ; and though I revolted against the idea, as 
 being insulting to Trances Howard herself, yet I 
 could not help saying, " It may be a poor street : 
 but I hope that it is at least respectable ?" 
 
 " Oh ! as for the matter of that," replied the 
 mistress of the shop, "it is as respectable as any 
 poor neighbourhood can possibly be : but I have 
 the honour of knowing you by sight. Miss Trafford 
 
 —and 1 thought I would take the liberty " 
 
 " Thank you for your well-meant kindness," I 
 said. " The person whom I seek is indeed poor — 
 but I have no reason to doubt her respectability." 
 The mistress of the shop, now appearing to be 
 convinced that my object was a charitable one, 
 gave me the requisite instructions ; and in a few 
 minutes I was threading the street where Frances 
 Howard dwelt. It was somewhere in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Clare Market: but I have now for- 
 gotten the name ; and it was indeed a very poor 
 street. I found the house which I sought: there 
 was a chandler's shop on the ground-floor ; and its 
 appearance was altogether mean enough. I in- 
 quired of a fat dirty 'looking woman— who was 
 selling candles and soap to a still dirtier-looking 
 girl— whether Miss Howard dwelt there?— and 
 she looked at me in astonishment. I began to 
 think that I must have made some mistake ; when 
 the woman exclaimed, " Ah ! perhaps you mean. 
 Miss, the young person who lives in the back attic ? 
 But this is the first time I ever heard her name 
 mentioned. Please to ring the top bell in the 
 door-post." 
 
 I walked out of the shop, which I had entered 
 for the purpose of making the inquiry ; and on 
 examining the side of the little private door, I 
 perceived a perpendicular array of small brass bell* 
 
 handles. I pulled the uppermost one ; and in a 
 few moments the door was opened by Frances 
 Howard. She grasped my hand in silence j and I 
 saw that she was much afi'ected at being compelled 
 to receive me in such a place. I instantaneously 
 said a few reassuring words ; and I followed her 
 up a staircase to which little light penetrated ; but 
 still the obscurity was not so great as to prevent 
 me from observing the uncleanliness of the steps 
 and the blackened condition of the walls. Not 
 another word was spoken until the back attic was 
 reached. Here everything was scrupulously clean: 
 but the whole appearance of the little chamber was 
 poverty-stricken — Oh! so poverty-stricken, that 
 my blood turned cold in my veins, and I could 
 scarcely prevent the tears from gushing forth. It 
 was evidently a ready-furnished room which my 
 poor friend tenanted,— if a miserable bed, a ricketty 
 three-legged round table, a couple of rush-bottomed 
 chairs, an old rug, a scrap of carpet, and a few 
 other trifling articles, deserved the denomination 
 of " furniture." I dared not for a few moments 
 look at Frances Howard : I felt that it was a most 
 painful position for her to be placed in ; and 
 heaven knows that mine as a visitress to that 
 dreary miserable chamber, was likewise painful 
 enough. At length I glanced furtively towards 
 her. She was very, very pale— the expression of 
 her countenance was indescribably sorrowful— and 
 the tears were trickling down her cheeks. I 
 caught her in my arms; and wo both of us wept. 
 Some minutes elapsed before our feelings ac* 
 quired sufficient composure for conversation : and 
 Frances was the first to break silence. 
 
 " You can no longer wonder, my dear friend," 
 she said, " that I should have hesitated to give 
 you my address, or that at the outset of our ac- 
 quaintance I should hare declined to receive a visit 
 from you. This is the wretched abode where for 
 weeks and months past I have dwelt, in solitude, 
 in wretchedness, and iu poverty. Oh ! you cannot 
 conjecture the privations I have endured !" 
 
 " And never again shall you endure them !" I 
 vehemently exclaimed. " Good heavens! why did 
 you refuse at the beginning to make me your con- 
 fidante ?" 
 
 " Know you not, my dear friend," she replied, 
 in a gentle voice, and with a soft deprecating look, 
 " that there is a certain pride with those who have 
 known better days ? And this pride on my part 
 — Oh, deem it not a false or foolish one ! — would 
 have prompted me to maintain the secret of this 
 poverty-stricken abode, and never to have received 
 a visit from you until I should have had a more 
 suitable apartment wherein to welcome you,— 
 were it not for an incident which occurred last 
 night." 
 
 " You allude," I said, " to the presence of the 
 Marchioness of Campanella at the theatre ?"— al- 
 though I did not precisely see how that incident 
 could have induced Miss Howard to alter her deter- 
 mination with regard to keeping her abode a secret 
 from me. 
 
 " Yes — you are right," she responded. " And 
 now, my dear Miss Trafford, I am about to ask 
 you a favour— a very great favour I" 
 
 " Tell me how I can serve you," I said ; " and 
 rest assured of my willingness to render you any 
 assistance in my power. But pray in the first 
 instance come away with me quick, Frances!
 
 EltLElf PEECT ; OB, THE MBM0IE3 OF AS ACTEE33. 
 
 181 
 
 There is a home for you where I dwell ; and those 
 kind people who have treated me as their daughter, 
 will receive you with open arms !" 
 
 " Oh, Ellen," exclaimed Misa Howard, tears 
 again glittering in her eyes, and her beautifully 
 chiselled lips quiveiing with emotion; "how kind, 
 how generous are you towards me ! And yet you 
 know nothing of me ! Under circumstances the 
 most inauspicious — I might even eay suspicious — 
 did I seek you out : I have maintained towards 
 you a reserve which you may deem ungenerous ; 
 and yet you are all benevolence and goodness 
 towards me ! You found me destitute of friends, 
 but seeking a friend in you — a stranger !— you 
 now find me dwelling in a state of abject misery ; 
 and yet your looks alter not towards me — you ask 
 me not whether I am the victim of any misdeed 
 on my own part or of the most cruel calamity ! 
 Oh, you are indeed generous ! — and would to 
 heaven, Ellen, there were more such beings as 
 yourself on the face of the earth !" 
 
 " I have had confidence in you, Frances," I re- 
 plied, gazing somewhat earnestly upon her ; " and 
 
 I do not think No ! I cannot possibly believe 
 
 that I shall ever have cause to regret the friend- 
 ship which I have profiFered you !" 
 
 "Never! never !" ejaculated Miss Howard, taking 
 my band and pressing it with fervour. " I will 
 give you explanations now — — But, my God > 
 such a horrible history !— Oh, a history so fraught 
 with incredible atrocities — cruelties so hideous, 
 that were heaped upon myself — the living and the 
 dead compelled to hold companionship, until the 
 brain of the former reeled upon the very verge of 
 
 madness Just heaven ! why did thy thunders 
 
 sleep P' 
 
 Frances clasped her hands together in mingled 
 agony and horror at the recollections which were 
 thus trooping through her brain ; and I was ap- 
 p lied— I was shocked — I was even frightened at 
 the language of which she had made use ; for it 
 was strange and terrible— it seemed to allude to 
 the wild— the impossible— the most horribly extra- 
 vagant occurrence that could possibly be treated of 
 even in the page of the romancist ! She was again 
 deadly pale : she shuddered— she actually writhed 
 as if convulsively beneath the tremendous influ- 
 ence of the thoughts that were agitating in her 
 mind. 
 
 "You see how it affects me, Ellen," she at 
 length resumed, in a lotv and even hollow tone, 
 " to make the slightest reference to that fearful 
 history of mine. Judge then what I should be 
 compelled to endure if I were to deliberately com- 
 mence all its frightful details ! But, no ! you will not 
 compel me — at least not now ! It will be a mercy 
 on your part to grant me a reprieve. Perhaps this 
 Tery day however you will know everything : for 
 the boon I am about to crave of you is one the re- 
 sult of which may necessitate the fullest of those 
 explanations on my part. Yes — it may be so ! 
 For sooner than lose one atom of the good opinion 
 that you have formed of me — sooner than sink in 
 the slightest degree in your estimation — I would 
 tell you everything, even though it were to rend 
 my soul with horror !" 
 
 " As you have spoken in these terms, my dear 
 Frances," I said — " with so much sincerity and 
 
 warmth and Oh, it is impossible to doubt your j 
 
 frankness I 1 will not for the world press you 
 
 to make the slightest revelation which may en- 
 hance the woe that already fills your heart. Tell 
 me how I may serve you ; and I repeat, you shall 
 soon see how zealous I am in my friendship to- 
 wards you." 
 
 " The boon I crave shall speedily be explainers.-* 
 replied Miss Howard. " Go to the Marchioness 
 of Campanella : you will easily find out from your 
 friend Lady Cecilia Urban where the Marchioness 
 is residing. Tell her ladyship that you come from 
 one who was once very dear to her— and who, 
 though having borne another name, is now passing 
 under that of Frances Howard. Proceed to in- 
 form the Marchioness that this Frances Howard 
 has endured the bitterest privations, and that you 
 yourself have just left her in the wretched cheer- 
 less garret where for weeks and months she has 
 dwelt — the most forlorn, the most wretched of be- 
 ings ! Tell the Marchioness that as a last and only 
 resource, Frances Howard is about to appear upon 
 the stage ; and say that she implores, as the only 
 boon sbe will ever seek at the hands of her lady- 
 ship, that she will abstain from ever visiting that 
 particular theatre on any night when Frances 
 Howard has to perform. Will you do this for CJ^ 
 Ellen f" 
 
 " I will," was my answer. " I will go at once ! 
 But shall I not first of all transfer you to the home 
 which I offer ?" 
 
 "No, no!— leave me here until you return!" 
 3xclaimed Miss Howard. " But promise that you 
 iDill return, Ellen ?— Oh, promise me this much ? 
 I know not what the Marchioness of Campanella 
 may say to you : but in any case you pledge your- 
 self to come back to me? For if you return not, 
 Ellen, I shall consider that I have lost the only 
 friend whom I now possess on earth : I shall flee 
 from this city where I have endured so much 
 wretchedness, and where my last hope will have 
 disappeared I" 
 
 " 1 promise yoa to return, Frances," I replied : 
 " Ob, I faithfully promise that under anj circum- 
 stances I will return !" 
 
 I embraced her, and departed. Seeking the 
 nearest cab-stand, I took my seat in a vehicle and 
 ordered the driver to take me to Lady Cecilia Ur- 
 ban's house in Grovenor Square. "While proceed- 
 ing thither, I reviewed all that had occurred with 
 my unhappy friend ; and I felt assured that her 
 history, if ever made known to my ears, would bo 
 fraught with a wildly romantic and fearful interest. 
 There was something terribly ambiguous in that 
 awful allusion which she had made to the com- 
 panionship of the living with the dead ; and I 
 knew not whether to regard it as a literal fact 
 or as a strange and stupendous allegory ! 
 
 Grosvenor Square was reached ; and I at once 
 obtained an interview with Lady Cecilia Urban. 
 She welcomed me in the kindest manner ; and I 
 could not help thinking it was most singular that I 
 should thus be on terms of even intimate friend- 
 ship with one whom, on the first occasion I ever 
 saw her, I fancied i could never possibly like. I 
 inquired whether she had seen anything more of 
 Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ? — and she answered 
 in the negative. He had made not the slightest 
 endeavour to procure another interview with her, 
 or to obtain her forgiveness — doubtless because he 
 well knew that he had erred to au unpardonable 
 extent.
 
 182 
 
 ELLBN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OV AW ACTEESa. 
 
 "I saw you," I said, as if quite in a casual 
 manner, " in company with the Marchioness of 
 Campauella at the theatre last evening ." 
 
 "And I was delighted, my dear Ellen," replied 
 Lady Cecilia, " to behold the brilliant triumph 
 which you achieved. The Marchioness — who is 
 herself an English lady, though married to an 
 Italian nobleman — was astonished as well as pro- 
 foundly interested by your performance." 
 
 " Has her ladyship been long in England ?" I 
 
 "Only a few days," responded Lady Cecilia 
 Urban. " The Marquis and herself became ac- 
 quainted with some friends of mine at Florence 
 last summer ; and when they arrived in London 
 the other day, they called upon those friends. It 
 was at their house that I thus met the Marquis 
 and Marchioness ; and it has been a source of 
 pleasure to me to show her ladyship every atten- 
 tion; for she is a very amiable person. The Mar- 
 quis himself is an agreeable man — young and 
 good-looking — with polished manners, and of the 
 highest reputation. He dined last evening at the 
 Tuscan Embassy; and therefore her ladyship ac- 
 companied me to the theatre." 
 
 " Do they purpose to make a long stay in Eng- 
 land P" I asked, still speaking as if in a pu-.ely 
 conversational manner, though with a secret hope 
 of eliciting the information I sought without 
 being compelled to put the query point-blank. 
 
 " They will doubtless reside in London for some 
 months," rejoined Lady Cecilia. " At present 
 they are staying at Mivart's Hotel : but the Mar- 
 quis is looking out for a house." 
 
 I remained a little longer in discourse with Lady 
 Cecilia Urban, so as to avoid exciting the suspi- 
 cion that I had called for any other purpose than 
 that of seeing her in pursuance of the friendly in- 
 vitation she had given me on the memorable day 
 ot Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's exposure. On 
 taking my leave of her ladyship, I re-entered the 
 cab, and ordered it to be driven to Mivart's Hotel. 
 There I inquired if I could see the Marchioness of 
 Campanella ?— and the waiter, taking my card, 
 hpnded it to a lacquey who was lounging in the 
 hall, and who by his appearance was evidently an 
 Italian. He ascended the stairs with the card ; 
 but in a few moments returned, requesting me to 
 walk up. I was shown into a handsomely fur- 
 nished apartment, where the Marchioness of Cam- 
 panella rose from a sofa to receive me. The Mar- 
 quis was not present. Her ladyship was dressed 
 in an elegant deshabiHee ; and she looked exceed- 
 ingly fascinating. The agreeable impression she 
 had made upon me on the preceding night at the 
 theatre, was completely conBrmed ; for sweetness, 
 kindness, and benevolence of disposition were in- 
 dicated by her looks and manner. I have already 
 said that though not faultlessly beautiful, she 
 was still something more than good-looking ; for 
 though her features could not be put to a hyper- 
 critical test, yet her face, regarded as a whole, 
 might be denominated lovely. It was particularly 
 in the softness of the clear blue eyes and the ex- 
 pression of the mouth — which, when she smiled, 
 isvealed a faultless set of teeth — that the witch- 
 ing attractiveness existed. There was no pride 
 libout her — merely the proper bearing that be- 
 liiaie her rank and position; and I should add 
 luat she possessed a melodious voice. 
 
 I began to apologise for intruding upon her 
 ladyship : but she interrupted me in the most 
 aSable manner, by asking, " Is it indeed Miss 
 Traflford whom I saw last night, that I have now 
 the pleasure of receiving ? Yes — it must be !— 
 and I consider myself honoured by a visit from 
 one whose talent I had so much reason to ad- 
 mire." 
 
 I thaiiked her ladyship for the manner in which 
 she was pleased to speak of me; and sitting down 
 with her upon the sofa, I said in a serious voice, 
 " It is not on my own account that I have taken 
 the liberty of thus introducing myself to the Mar- 
 chioness of Campanella." 
 
 " Whatever your object may be. Miss Trafford," 
 she affably replied, " I cannot do otherwise than 
 rejoice at an event which has procured me the 
 pleasure of your acquaintance. But your look 
 has grown serious ?" 
 
 " I come to speak to your ladyship of one whom 
 you have formerly known, and I think in circum- 
 stances very different from those in which she is 
 now placed. She is one," I continued, " whom you 
 knew under another name — but she now bears that 
 of Frances Howard." 
 
 I noticed a rapid change coming over the coun- 
 tenance of the Marchioness as I thus spoke : she 
 grew exceedingly pale — her features denoted much 
 inward agitation— there was a faint sound from 
 her lips, as if between a, gasp and a sigh — and 
 then tears trickled slowly down her cheeks. 
 
 "Do you know. Miss Trafford," she asked, "the 
 
 real name of her But, Ah ! is it possible ?" 
 
 suddenly ejaculated the Marchioness : " surely that 
 name of Frances Howard is not altogether un- 
 familiar to my ears ? Yes ! I remember ; — a lady 
 of that name is to make her appearance to-night 
 before a public audience " 
 
 " It is so," I rejoined ; " and the Frances 
 Howard on whose behalf I come to your ladyship, 
 is the same who will this evening take the first 
 step that is to earn for her a livelihood !" 
 
 The Marchioness wept; anrl for upwards of a 
 minute she was so agitated that she could not give 
 utterance to another word. I felt deeply for her 
 I felt deeply likewise as I thought of Frances 
 Howard ; and the tears were trickling down my 
 own cheeks. 
 
 " What did she bid you tell me ?" at length in- 
 quired the Marchioness of Campanella: and she 
 endeavoured to control her emotions. 
 
 " Miss Howard " 
 
 "Miss Howard?" ejaculated the Marchioness 
 " But proceed — proceed !" 
 
 " Miss Howard," I continued, " bade me inform 
 your ladyship that for some months past she has 
 been enduring the most terrible privations— in a 
 
 miserable lodging And this is true, my lady ! 
 
 —for I myself have seen her there !" 
 
 " Grood heavens ! is all this possible ?" mar- 
 mured the Marchioness, for a moment making a 
 gesture as if she were wringing her hands. " But 
 yes— it must be ! — how could it be otherwise ! Oh, 
 the unhappy girl ! Proceed, Miss Trafford : tell 
 me everything — let me know the worst, whatever 
 it be !" 
 
 " The worst, so far as I am acquainted with it," 
 I continued, " is already explained to your lady- 
 ship ; for I ought in all frankness to observe that 
 I am entirely ignorant of the circumstances
 
 ElilEIT PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AIT ACTBES3. 
 
 183 
 
 _ 
 
 which plunged Miss Howard into so dread a con- 
 dition of penury. For months past she has lived 
 in solitude and in wretchedness — friendless, as if 
 she were society's outcast; and now, as a last re- 
 source, in order to save herself from starving — 
 for she is too proud to accept that which she looks 
 upon as eleemosynary charity, — as a last resource, 
 I say, she is about to appear upon the stage." 
 
 " I understand. Miss Trafford !" said the Mar- 
 chioness, still weeping. " She has found a friend 
 in you !— you would have done much for her, but 
 she would not permit you ; and through your in- 
 terest she has procured an engagement. Oh ! I 
 thank you ! — sincerely do I thank you ! But 
 what more have you to tell me on her behalf?" 
 
 " Miss Howard craves of your ladyship a single 
 boon," I proceeded to observe, — " the last which 
 she will ever demand at your hands. It is that 
 on those nights when she makes her appearance 
 before a public audience, your ladyship will ab- 
 stain from being present at the theatre," 
 
 "O Beatrice!— unhappy Beatrice !" murmured 
 the Marchioness : " has it come to this, — that you 
 should dread to appear in a position from which 
 you would shrink if the eye of your sister were 
 upon you ?" 
 
 " Her sister ?" I ejaculated, in amazement. 
 '^Is it possible " 
 
 " Yes, yes — I am her sister !" replied the Mar- 
 chioness. " The same father was the author of 
 our being : but we had different mothers. Ah ! I 
 see. Miss Trafford, that Beatrice— for that is her 
 real Christian name — has told you nothing of her 
 antecedents. And no wonder ! Alas, it is indeed 
 no wonder that she should have been thus 
 silent !" 
 
 "She gave me not her confidence, and I did 
 not seek it. It was suiEcient for me," I con- 
 tinued, " that she came to me in sorrow and afflic- 
 tion " 
 
 " Oh 1 and unworthy of the name of woman 
 should I be," exclaimed the Marchioness, " if I 
 did not imitate so noble an example ! Yes, yes- 
 it must be sufficient for me likewise that she is in 
 sorrow and affliction — and all the past must be 
 
 forgotten ! I will go to her But, Ah ! my 
 
 husband !" 
 
 The Marchioness of Campanella sank back upon 
 the §ofa from which she had half sprung up ; and 
 for a few moments she remained absorbed in re- 
 flections that were evidently deep and painful. 
 
 " I hope," I said, in a gentle voice, " that there 
 will be no barrier to the execution of your lady- 
 ship's generous purpose. You have spoken of the 
 past which must be forgotten : but surely, surely 
 there has been nothing criminal in the life of her 
 whom you call Beatrice and whom you have 
 acknowledged to be your sister ? — Ah, I remem- 
 ber ! She declared that if aught fell from your 
 lips to impair the good opinion which I had 
 formed of her, she would on my return tell me 
 everything ; and she alluded to horrible things ! 
 Ob, believe me, my lady, she is very, very un- 
 happy ! — and it is next to impossible that with a 
 mind so agitated as hers, she can achieve success 
 in the sphere which she is about to enter !" 
 
 " I declare to you most solemnly, Miss Traf- 
 ford," answered the Marchioness, " that if 1 were 
 to obey the dictates of my own heart, I should 
 speed at once to Beatrice — I should clasp her in 
 
 my arras — and I should assure her that where I 
 dwell, there henceforth is her own home. But I 
 am bound to consult the wishes of my husband. 
 To me he is all kindness, all goodness, all affection : 
 but in one respect he is stern and peremptory — 
 and he has commanded that the name of Beatrice 
 shall never again be breathed in his presence. 
 Oh ! now that I have said so much, how can I 
 possibly conceal from you the truth ? Yes— — 
 alas that I should be compelled to make the rave 
 lation ! — Beatrice has erred; her name is covered 
 with dishonour ; she has disgraced the family to 
 which she belongs; and heaven knows that you 
 spoke ere now only too truly when you said that 
 she seemed as if she were society's outcast !" 
 
 The profoundest mournfulness settled upon the 
 countenance of the Marchioness of Campanella as 
 she gave utterance to these words; and I reflected 
 painfully for some minutes. 
 
 '•'But are you sure," I ejaculated at length,— 
 "is your ladyship convinced that your sister Bea- 
 trice has indeed erred ? What meant she by de 
 daring that if from your lips anything should fal 
 to prejudice her in my estimation, she would revea. 
 everything, although it would harrow her soul with 
 horror ? But yet her words could be taken in only 
 one sense — they could mean but one thing, — and 
 this is that she possesses the power of vindicating 
 herself," 
 
 The Marchioness shook her head mournfully ; 
 the tears again flowed from her eyes : but hastily 
 wiping them away, she said, " Listen, Miss Traf- 
 ford ! You are acting the part of a friend ; and 
 you must be made acquainted with everything. We 
 may then consult how we may best serve the in- 
 terests of the unhappy Beatrice ; and you, in the 
 charity of your disposition, will look mercifully 
 upon her you will not cast her off altogether ?" 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" I exclaimed ; "and unless 
 the explanations which your ladyship is about to 
 give me, carry incontrovertibility on the face of 
 them — unless, indeed, the evidence be too conclusive 
 to admit of a doubt — I shall endeavour to suspend 
 my judgment until I have heard the answer from 
 the lips of your sister Beatrice." 
 
 " Nothing can exceed the generosity of your 
 conduct," replied the Marchioness, taking my hand 
 and pressing it warmly. " But listen while I give 
 the promised explanations. — My father," continued 
 the Marchioness of Campanella, " was an English 
 gentleman, who in the earlier part of his life pos- 
 sessed a handsome fortune : but partly by calamity, 
 and partly by extravagance, he lost the greater 
 portion of it. This happened in the lifetime of his 
 first wife— my mother. They had not been mar- 
 ried more than two years ; and I was aa infant of 
 a few weeks old when the blow struck them. My 
 father's mansions were seized by his creditors ; and 
 my poor mother sank under the misfortune. She 
 died, leaving me an infant unconscious of the ter- 
 rific loss which I thus sustained. Gathering toge- 
 ther the wrecks of his property, my father repaired 
 to Italy; and there, at the expiration of about 
 eighteen months, he married a second time. In 
 the gay city of Florence he encountered an Eng- 
 lish lady who was possessed of considerable pro- 
 perty ; and he espoused her. Beatrice was the off- 
 sprin;^ of this union. My father did not profit by 
 past experience : he plunged again into a course of 
 extravagance as well as of reckless speculation;
 
 and the result vras the wreck of a second fortune. 
 He died of a broken heart,— I being at that time 
 about twelve years of age, and Beatrice a little 
 past nine. Our mother, with the small income 
 that remained to her, brought us to England, where 
 our education was completed. She almost deprired 
 herself of necessaries in order to do her duty towards 
 us ; for she was a woman of a strong mind — she was 
 ambitious likewise — and she aimed at brilliant 
 matrimonial alliances for ourselves. But when 
 the time came that she might introduce us into 
 society, she encountered all the obstacles that arose 
 from the seclusion of that life which she had been 
 leading. She was without friends : her own 
 parents had long been dead, and she had no 
 near relations. She had not even the wealth 
 which is one of the surest introductions into what 
 is termed good society in England. She there- 
 fore resolved to return to Florence, where she had 
 been well known, and where she hoped to find 
 many of her former acquaintances and friends. 
 Besides, her income, which was nest to downright 
 poverty in England, would be comparative wealth 
 in Italy ; and thus every consideration prompted 
 this return to the Tuscan capital. We arrived 
 there. I am now speaking of a period of about 
 five years ago, — Beatrice being then in her 
 eighteenth year. My mother's calculations were 
 not erroneous : she was welcomed back again into 
 the best society of Florence j and in due time she 
 bad the satisfaction of beholding the Marquis of 
 Campanella paying his addresses to myself. I 
 loved him : we were married ; and, as I ere now 
 assured you, Miss TraflFord, his demeanour towards 
 me has ever been fraught with kindness and affec- 
 tion. But I am now about to enter upon those 
 explanations which specially refer to taj sister 
 Beatrice." 
 
 Here the Marchioness paused ; and I awaited 
 with no small degree of suspense the continuation 
 of her narrative. 
 
 " It was about two years ago," proceeded the 
 Marchioness of Campanella, "Beatrice beiog then 
 twenty-one, that her beauty — for she was emi- 
 nently beautiful. Miss Trafford — attracted the no- 
 tice of the Count of Carboni. This nobleman was 
 a widower— considerably older than Beatrice— but 
 intellectual, and immensely rich. He had travelled 
 much : he had lived for several years in Paris and 
 in London; he spoke the French and English 
 languages with as much fluency as his own native 
 Italian. My mother-in-law— Beatrice's own mother, 
 remember — had been wondering how the loveliness 
 of her daughter could have hitherto failed to 
 secure an eligible offer for her hand ; and she had 
 even begun to despair, when the Count of Carboni 
 presented himself as a suitor. But Beatrice re- 
 ceived his addresses with coldness— indeed with as 
 much repugnance as her gentle nature could pos- 
 sibly suffer her to display Her mother remon- 
 strated : Beatrice threw herself, sobbing and weep- 
 ing, into her arms, confessing that she loved another. 
 Tue object of this love of her's was named Angelo 
 Marano ; and he was a subaltera in a regiment of the 
 Tuscan army. He had nothing but his lieutenant's 
 pay : but he was young and handsome— of a dispo- 
 tion singularly romantic and enthusiastic — and of 
 Unblemished character. Thus, for many reasons, 
 there appeared to be a far greater fitness in an al- 
 liance between Beatrice and Angelo Marano, than 
 
 in a marriage with the Count of Carboni. But the 
 mother of Beatrice viewed not the matter in this 
 light. She was ambitious ; and if she had expe- 
 rienced the satisfaction of seeing myself, her step- 
 daughter, wed rank and fortune,— how much more 
 eagerly did she cherish the hope of securing for 
 her own child an equally brilliant alliance ? There- 
 fore, the tears and representations of Beatrice were 
 of no avail : her mother sternly commanded that 
 she should receive the addresses of the Count of 
 Carboni; and by some means or another — most 
 probably through the interest of the Count himself 
 — she procured the removal of the regiment to 
 which the young lieutenant belonged, to the gar- 
 risen of Leghorn. To what extent Beatrice 
 had pledged herself to Angelo Marano, I cannot 
 tell ; and I am equally ignorant of whatsoever may 
 have taken place between them at parting — or 
 whether they even obtained an opportunity at all of 
 bidding each other farewell : for I was absent from 
 Florence at the time, being with the Marquis at 
 a chateau which he possesses on the slopes of tho 
 Apennines. The first intimation which I received 
 of the progress of my stepmother's intrigues in 
 respect to Beatrice, was a letter from that step- 
 mother, announcing that my sister had been 
 wooed and won by the Count of Carboni, and that 
 a day was fixed for the solemnization of the nup- 
 tials. The Marquis and myself made all possible 
 despatch to return to Florence, to be present at 
 the ceremony ; and though I was previously ac- 
 quainted with the Count of Carboni, and 
 wondered that Beatrice should accept the hand 
 of a person at least fifteen years older than her- 
 self, I was nevertheless far from suspecting that 
 her consent had been extorted by the mingled 
 threats and entreaties of her mother. Therefore, 
 on arriving in Florence, I was amazed as well as 
 afilicted to behold how great a change had taken 
 place in my sister during the three or four months 
 that had elapsed since I last saw her. Her mother 
 evidently manoeuvred as much as possible to pre- 
 vent us from being alone together : but I felt con- 
 vinced that Beatrice was unhappy, and that there 
 was some mystery which I could not fathom — so 
 that I studied to find an occasion to speak to her 
 on the subject. Beatrice was calm but mournful : 
 she seemed to be nerved with a cold despairing re- 
 signation; and the thought stole into my mind 
 that she was under the influence of some terrorism 
 or coercion. By degrees, and with considerable 
 difficulty, I elicited from her lips the fact that 
 she loved another, and that she had yielded to 
 her mother's threats and entreaties when giving 
 an assent to accept the Count of Carboni as her 
 husband. I was both indignant and afflicted ; and 
 I offered to remonstrate with her mother : but 
 Beatrice implored me to suffer matters to progress 
 without my interference. She said that it was 
 too late — that she accepted her destiny — and that 
 she would accompany the Count to the altar. I 
 did not like her looks or her manner :— not that 
 they were unkind towards myself ; but methougbt 
 there was something unnaturally cold in thein— 
 sometliing that was more akin to blank despair than 
 to a placid resignation. But Beatrice vowed that 
 her mind was made up — that she had ceased to 
 think of Angelo Marano— and that she would there* 
 fore wed the Count of Carboni." 
 Here the Marchioness of Campanc-lU agaii)
 
 paused ; and I awaited with increased suspense the 
 issue of a narrative, which was so replete with a 
 Bftd interest, and in which all my sympathies were 
 enlisted. 
 
 " The marriage took place," proceeded the Mnr- 
 chioness : " and methought during the ceremony 
 that Beatrice looked happier than was altogether 
 consistent with the tale she had told me of her 
 blighted love and of her mother's coercion. The 
 Count bore away his bride to a splendid chateau 
 which he possessed in the southern part of Tus- 
 cany, near the frontier of the Roman States ; while 
 the Marquis and myself returned to our country- 
 seat on the outskirts of the Apennines. My step- 
 mother did not long live to enjoy the satisfaction 
 she doubtless experienced at having thus succeeded 
 in her matrimonial project with regard to Bea- 
 trice: for in a few months after the celebration of 
 the marriage she paid the debt of nature. At her 
 funeral Beatrice and I met again : I had no 
 No. 24.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 reason to bi^Iieve that eoe was unhappy in her 
 position of a wife; and when, after the ohsequie?, 
 I aflfectionately and delicately questioned her on 
 the subject, she answered tranquilly that her hus- 
 band treated her with love and kindness. Wo 
 again separated : but in a few months time we met 
 once more in Florence, where she and her husband 
 as well as the Marquis and myself came to our 
 town-mansions for the winter season. During all 
 that period I saw nothing in the manner or con- 
 duct of Beatrice that could at all prepare me for 
 the dreadful catastrophe which was destined to 
 occur. But let me hasten to bring this sad, sad 
 narrative to a conclusion. The memorable date to 
 which I am about to allude, bslongs to the month 
 of September of last year. At that time 
 the Marquis and myself were staying at our 
 country-seat in the Apennines : Beatrice was with 
 her husband at the C'lateau of Carboni on the 
 southern frontier of Tuscany. All of a sudden
 
 186 
 
 ELLEN PEKCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 a frightful rumour reached the ears of the 
 Marquis and myself. The Count of Carboni 
 bad acquired unmistakable proofs that he was 
 dishonoured in his wife, for that she had re- 
 viewed her acquaintance with Angelo Marano. The 
 ■report came to us in so vague a manner that we 
 knew not what to think of it. We hastened to 
 riorence for the purpose of ascertaining additional 
 particulars there, through the medium of some of 
 the Count Carboni'e friends; for 1 trembled to 
 write to Beatrice under the circumstances. At 
 Florence we were informed that it was indeed all 
 but too true. The Count of Carboni had discovered 
 Angelo Marano in the apartment of Beatrice ; and 
 availing himself of the right— though a terrible 
 one — of an outraged husband, he had slain the 
 young lieutenant on the spot. The tidings affected 
 me so cruelly that I was thrown upon a sick bed; 
 and for some weeks I remained unconscious of all 
 that was passing in the world around me. When 
 I began to recover, my husband gradually broke 
 to me the result of the deplorable dranla. The 
 guilty Beatrice had fled frorn the chateau of Car- 
 boni— nobody knew whither. The Count himself 
 remained there in complete seclusion, rendering 
 himself inaccessible to the friends who called from 
 the neighbourhood or journeyed thither from Flo- 
 rence to sympathize with him. The catastrophe 
 occurred, as I have told you, Miss Trafford, in 
 September last : it is now verging towards the end 
 of February ; and during that interval of between 
 five and six months I have not again seen the 
 ■Count of Carboni— nor had I heard any tidings of 
 Beatrice until this day." 
 
 The Marchioness ceased. She had been speak- 
 ing in a voice that was profoundly mournful, and 
 ber narrative was frequently interrupted by an 
 outburst of tears. When the tale was ended, a 
 silence of some minutes reigned between us. I 
 meditated on all that I had heard ; and at length 
 I said — but hesitatingly, and with mistrust in the 
 supposition that I myself was advancing, — " May 
 it not be possible, after all, that your sister the 
 Countess of Carboni was really innocent — that 
 some little levity may have been taken for crimi- 
 nality—and that circumstantial evidence may have 
 combiced against her ?" 
 
 " Would to heaven that I could think so !" said 
 the Marchioness mournfully. " But no. Miss 
 Trafford !— it is impossible to blind myself to the 
 nature of the facts which constitute so crushing 
 an amount of evidence against my unfortunate 
 sister ! And I perceive by your look that you 
 yourself do not believe in the hypothesis which 
 from the kindest and most charitable motives you 
 have put forward." 
 
 " And now what will you do, my lady ?" I in- 
 quired. " Granting that your sister has erred, is 
 she to remain for ever unforgiven ? Consider the 
 circumstances of the case — her own blighted affec- 
 tions — a mother's cruel coercion — the bitter 
 punishment which Beatrice has since experienced 
 —poverty even to starvation " 
 
 " No, no ! tell me not," almost shrieked forth 
 the Marchioness, " that she has known distress so 
 dire as thatP' 
 
 " It is too true, my lady !" I emphatically 
 exclaimed. " Not more than two hours have 
 elajsed since I left your unhappy sister in her 
 miserable home— if a home such a tenement cau 
 
 I be called ! I promised to return to her ; and I 
 I shall do so. She may be guilty — but she is not 
 I the less a fellow-creature ! Besides, I shall ho.ir 
 [ from her lips whatsoever explanations she may 
 have to give ; and despite the strongest evidence 
 on the one hand, I am not without a hope on the 
 
 I other " 
 
 I " My dear Miss Trafford," exclaimed the Mar* 
 
 I chiopess of Campanella, " my mind is made up 
 
 I how to act! It is perhaps all the more fortunate 
 
 that Beatrice has resolved to go upon the stage; 
 
 I for the idea of any such public appearance would 
 
 I more than anything else move my husband to do 
 
 '. something in her behalf. With all his good 
 
 I qualities, he has a certain pride ; and I know that 
 
 be would hot for the world have it whispered that 
 
 I one so nearly connected with myself has been 
 
 1 abandoned by her family and forced to adopt such 
 
 I means fOr a livelihood. It is this same pride on 
 
 I his part which revolted so strongly against the 
 
 , bare thought of the disgrace which Beatrice had 
 
 brought upon herself, and by reflection upon the 
 
 family to which she belongs. Yes! — something 
 
 shall be done for the unhappy Beatrice ! My 
 
 husband will return shortly — I will plead my 
 
 sister's cause — I have no doubt of success ! Would 
 
 ; it be asking too much, my dear Miss Trafford, to 
 
 i beg that you will return again presently — in a 
 
 : couple of hours— and. Oh ! doubtless then I shall 
 
 j be enabled to accompany you to the abode of her 
 
 whom I long to strain in my arms, despite her 
 
 errors !" 
 
 " Nothing will afford me greater pleasure," I 
 answered, " than to be your ladyship's companion 
 for such a purpose. In the meanwhile I will 
 hasten a'nd prepare Beatrice for a change in her 
 circumstances: I will not promise too much at 
 first — I will not tell her that she may expect to 
 behold her sister — for fear lest by any possibility 
 there should be a disappointment," 
 
 " I leave everything to your judgment and dis^ 
 cretion," replied the Marchioness of Campanella; 
 " and accept, my dear Miss Trafford, the assurance 
 of my deep and lasting gratitude for your noble 
 conduct towards my poor erring sister !" 
 
 The noble lady wrung my hand with much 
 emotion ; and I took my departure. On issuing 
 forth from Mivart's Hotel, I found the cab wait- 
 ing for me, as I had directed : but the driver him- 
 self was not immediately to be seen. A ragged 
 urchin was holding the horse's head; and 1 asked 
 him where the cabman was ? But scarcely was 
 the question put, when the individual himself 
 emerged from round the corner of the street ; and 
 hastening towards me, he apologized for his tem- 
 porary absence. I bade him take me to the 
 neighbourhood of Clare Market; and I entered 
 the vehicle. The man mounted his box; and the 
 cab drove away. I was plunged in profound re- 
 flection upon everything I had heard from the lips 
 of the Marchioness of Campanella; and I won- 
 dered whether it were possible that Beatrice could 
 successfully vindicate herself against the charges 
 which pressed so heavily. I confess that I did 
 not see how she could do so : but still there was 
 the hope in my mind — and thus I did not alto- 
 gether prejudge ber. 
 
 I was startled from my reverie by the sudden 
 stopping of the cab ; and I found that it was in a 
 narrow, ill-looking street where it had thus halted.
 
 EIitEH PEKCT; OR, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 187 
 
 The driver opened the door : I alighted, and paid 
 him his fare— upon receiving which ho instanta- 
 neously mounted the box and drove away. Being 
 ignorant of the precise whereabouts of the spot 
 where he had thus set me down — for I had vaguely 
 bidden him take me to the neighbourhood of Clare 
 Market — I looked along the street ; and I now 
 perceived that another cab had stopped immediately 
 behind the place whence the one that brought me 
 had just driven away. The door of that vehicle 
 was open ; and a couple of men were getting out. 
 Their appearance struck me as suspicious and 
 sinister : they looked not as if it quite befitted 
 their circumstances to ride in a cab. I was moving 
 away, when one of them hastily accosted me, say- 
 ing, " Are you looking for any particular place. 
 Miss ?" 
 
 I felt frightened; for although it was in the 
 broad daylight, yet the street itself was of so low, 
 poor, and ill-looking a character that the idea 
 struck me that any respectable female might be 
 there insulted without the hope of succour. The 
 man who had accosted me, was dressed in coarse 
 apparel : he was dirty and unshaven ; and me- 
 thought he had a villanous aspect. His companion 
 —who was even more repulsive in appearance than 
 himself— had now approached so as to be close be- 
 hind him ; and I saw that they both eyed me in a 
 peculiar manner. I hastily gave a response to the 
 question which had been put ; and hoping that my 
 answer would rid me of this suspicious company, I 
 turned away. 
 
 But what now followed was the work of an in- 
 stant. No doubt a sign was made to the driver of 
 the cab which had brought the two men ; for it 
 immediately drew alongside the pavement, to the 
 very spot where I had just turned away : a hand 
 was placed over my mouth — a powerful arm was 
 thrown round my waist — and the eye had scarcely 
 time to wink before I was inside the vehicle. One 
 of the men entered with me : indeed it was he who 
 had thus suddenly lifted me into it ; and producing 
 a pistol, he said in a determined voice, " Dare to 
 give utterance to a word, and I'll dash your brains 
 out with the butt-end I" 
 
 He pulled down the blinds : his companion had 
 already slammed the door; and the cab drove 
 rapidly away. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE OLD PAEM-HOUSE. 
 
 I TVAS 80 terrified by the words which the villain 
 had just spoken — and he seemed so thoroughly 
 capable of executing his hideous menace — that 
 the shriek which had risen to my lips died away ; 
 and I felt as if I were about to faint. The man 
 sat opposite to me, holding the pistol by the barrel, 
 and looking as if he were in readiness to deal 
 the threatened blow if the slightest sound should 
 issue from my lips. Not contented with assuming 
 this menacing demeanour, he went on giving ut- 
 terance to threats so horrible, in case I should cry 
 out, that my brain seemed to be turning with the 
 sense of the fearful position in which I was placed. 
 Some of my readers may perhaps marvel that such 
 an outrage could have occurred in the very midst 
 
 of London and in the broad daylight : but those 
 who know the metropolis well, will comprehend 
 that such a proceeding was quite possible ; and 
 my own experiences have made me aware how 
 deeds of this kind can bo perpetrated, even with 
 facility. 
 
 The vehicle rolled rapidly along; and as tho 
 blinds were closed, I could not tell in which direc- 
 tion it was proceeding, though my fears suggested 
 that it might be towards St. Clair's house ; for I 
 naturally surmised that he was the instigator of 
 the outrage. It was some time however before I 
 could collect my bewildered and affrighted thoughts, 
 or in any way calm down the terrible agitation I 
 experienced. Then numerous harrowing ideas swept 
 through my mind. Could it be possible that the' 
 wickedness of my persecutors — for I now asso- 
 ciated Lady Lilla Essendine with Edwin St. Clair 
 — could have reached such a pitch that they in- 
 tended to make away with me ? Or was I to be- 
 held captive until some other villany, which I 
 would sooner die than endure, was consummated? 
 In any case what would become of poor Beatrice ? 
 what would the Marchioness think of my pro- 
 longed absence after the promise I had given to 
 return ? For, Oh ! even amidst tho frightful 
 perils which seemed to threaten myself, I was not 
 without thought for others, 
 
 Tho vehicle drove at a rapid rate, as I have 
 already said ; and I began to reflect whet'aer it 
 would not be better for me to risk anything at the 
 hands of the villain who was sitting opposite, than 
 to resign the only chance of bringing persons to 
 my assistance. I was on the very point of giving 
 vent to a piercing scream for help, when the wretch 
 — who had for the last few minutes remained 
 silent — appeared suddenly to divine my thoughts. 
 With a terrible imprecation he lifted tho pistol, 
 declaring that he would beat out my brains with- 
 out pity and without remorse, if I dared to cry 
 out. 
 
 I sank back appalled, speechless, and powerless, 
 beneath the weight of an overwhelming^ conster- 
 nation. Some time again elapsed before I could 
 collect my ideas ; and then the man, peeping 
 through the blind, said with a grim smile, " Your 
 chance is past now, Miss: for we are outside of 
 London." 
 
 " Suffer me to depart," I said, mustering up 
 courage to address the fellow, " and I will re- 
 ward you handsomely !" 
 
 The man shook his head, and observed, "It 
 won't do. Miss ; and you'd better hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 In spite of this injunction, I continued to urge 
 and plead, entreat and implore, until the man cut 
 me short with a savage command to be silent. I 
 again sank back in the vehicle, well nigh spirit- 
 broken : I felt so truly wretched that death itself 
 would have been welcome — and all my taste for 
 life seemed gone ! 
 
 An hour, perhaps, had altogether elapsed from 
 the moment when I was thrust into that vehicle, 
 — when it stopped. The man drew up the blinds; 
 and I saw that I was in the open country— -but in 
 which neighbourhood of London I was utterly 
 ignorant. The cab had halted at tho door of a 
 house, which was large, but of dilapidated appear- 
 ance. It seemed as if it were an old-fashioned 
 farm homestead, with high pointed roofs, and
 
 massive stacks of chimnejs. It w&a built of dingy 
 red bricks ; the windows were few, small, and of 
 the lattice description. At the hasty glance which 
 I thus threw at the place, I could not discern any 
 blinds or curtains to those windows ; and indeed 
 the first impression made upon me, was that the 
 house must be uninhabited. 
 
 The door of the cab was quickly opened by the 
 companion of the man who had lifted me into it, 
 and who had therefore ridden by the driver on the 
 box. I was desired to alight; and the instant my 
 feet touched the ground, the cab drove rapidly 
 away. The man who had been my companion, 
 grasped me with some degree of Tiolence by the 
 arm, — saying, "Now, young Miss, you must walk 
 ia here." 
 
 The other man had in the meanwhile unlocked 
 the door of the house : I flung a hasty look 
 around, in the hope that there would be some 
 human being within sight to whom I might shriek 
 forth for succour : but I beheld no one except the 
 two ruffians who had me in their custody, and the 
 driver of the rapidly retreating cab. 
 
 " You need not use violence," I said to the man 
 who had clutched my arm with such force that he 
 hurt me : but my heart sank within me, and the 
 blood ran cold in my veins, at the thought of what 
 my doom might possibly be. 
 
 "Well, walk in quietly," said the fellow, "and 
 for my part I won't hurt you." 
 
 There was some relief in this assurance, though 
 it seemed merely to apply to the present instant ; 
 and the rough hand was at once withdrawn from 
 my arm. I entered a low, dark, gloomy-looking 
 place, paved with tiles, and which might probably 
 have served in other times as the hall of the home- 
 stead : for on either side there were several doors, 
 and facing the entrance there was an ascent of 
 stairs with enormous old-fashioned balustrades. 
 
 " Up there, if you please. Miss," said one of the 
 men ; and I began ascending the stairs. " Take 
 care," he added ; " for they are old, ricketty, and 
 broken. It's many a year since this place was 
 occupied." 
 
 " And who occupies it now ?" I asked, eagerly 
 catching at what appeared to be an opportunity of 
 obtaining some information. 
 
 "You, Miss!" replied the man; — and then both 
 he and his companion burst out into a laugh. 
 
 The reader may be assured that I had no inoli- 
 natiou to put another question. The staircase was 
 involved in almost complete obscurity ; and my 
 feet tripped against the broken pieces of the steps. 
 On reaching a landing, one of the men threw open 
 a door ; and I beheld a tolerably large chamber, 
 poorly yet by no means uncomfortably furnished. 
 Scarcely however had I glanced into it, when one 
 of the men bade me enter ; and when I obeyed 
 him, he said, " If you would take my advice, you 
 would avoid sci'eatiiing out of the window : be- 
 cause one of us will be down below, and it will be 
 the worse for you if you make any noise. Some 
 one will bring you up things to eat and drink pre- 
 eently," 
 
 The door was then closed and locked upon me ; 
 and I found myself alone in that chamber. All 
 the furniture was new; but, as I have before said, 
 it was of a homely character, fitted for the cottage- 
 residence of poor people. The bedstead and toilet- 
 table were of common painted wood ; there were a 
 
 couple of cane-bottomed chairs ; there was anothei 
 table of an ordinary description, in the middle of 
 the room ; a piece of grey drugget covered about 
 one-third of the floor ; and there were green cur- 
 tains, of a coarse stuff, to the two small latticed 
 windows. These windows had bars to them ; and 
 a single glance was sufficient to show me that they 
 had only been very recently put up. The ceiling 
 and the walls had been freshly whitewashed : the 
 floor had been cleansed : there was not the 
 slightest doubt that all these preparations which I 
 have described, had been but lately made; and my 
 fears suggested that it was a prison-chamber ex* 
 pressly arranged for my reception, 
 
 I looked through one of the casements, and 
 found that the room was situated at the back of 
 the house. There was a smali yard, surrounded 
 with outbuildings sadly dilapidated and falling fast 
 into ruins. An opening between those buildings 
 showed me an enclosed space that had evidently 
 once been a farm-yard ; and it was so surrounded 
 by barns as to impede the farther view. I sought 
 to obtain a glimpse of the metropolis; for I 
 thought that if I could only distinguish the huge 
 dome of St. Paul's, the Monument, or any other 
 elevated building, I might form an idea of the 
 neighbourhood in which this decaying farm-house 
 was situated. But no ! — the outbuildings were so 
 placed in reference to the chamber- window, that 
 the realization of my idea was impossible, 
 
 " And even if I succeeded," I said to myself, as 
 I turned away from the casement with a sickening 
 sensation at the heart, and with the tears trickling 
 down my cheeks, " of what avail would it be ? I 
 am a prisoner ; and little would it serve me to 
 know on the outskirt of which suburb the place 
 of my captivity is situated. Oh, that I should 
 have fallen again into the power of him who per- 
 has this time will use that power unscrupulously ! 
 Ah, he may kill me ! — and perhaps it is now my 
 death that he seeks, even as that vile woman, as 
 fiendiike as she is beautiful, recently sought it!— 
 but he shall not succeed in dishonouring me !" 
 
 I sat down, exhausted by the wretched state of 
 my feelings. I experienced a sensation of faint« 
 ness ; and taking off" my bonnet and scarf, I flung 
 them upon the bed- Then, as an idea struck me, 
 I suddenly regained my energy; and I looked 
 under the bed — I looked likewise into an immense 
 cupboard, the door of which had been recently 
 painted : but no — I was altogether alone in that 
 chamber. I was fully satisfied that St. Clair was 
 the author of this new outrage; and I shuddered 
 lest it should be the last, I mean that I trembled 
 with a cold horror lest he should at length triumph 
 over me, and that naught but my death would 
 satisfy him, since I was resolved to perish sooner 
 than degrade myself ! 
 
 While I was in the midst of my saddening re- 
 flections, I heard footsteps advancing along the 
 landing: the door was unlocked — and the old 
 gipsy-woman made her appearance. She had evi- 
 dently been followed thither by on9 of the men, 
 who however remained upon the landing. Was it 
 that he feared lest the old woman should yield to 
 my entreatries— or lest, goaded to desperation, I 
 should suddenly fly at her, overpower her, and 
 endeavour to efiect my escape ? Her hideous 
 countenance was serious and inscrutable : she 
 spoke not a word as she advanced into the room,
 
 carrying a tray in her hands. This tray she de- 
 posited upon the table : she then retired, still in 
 profound silence: the door was again closed and 
 locked upon me — I heard the retreating footsteps 
 of the old woman and the man. The tray con- 
 tained a loaf of bread, somo butter, and some 
 boiled eggs with a small jug of beer. I espe- 
 rienced not the slightest appetite : but the sight of 
 the beer reminded me that I was thirsty. I would 
 not however touch that liquor, for fear lest it should 
 be drugged ; and I found water on the toilet table. 
 I drank copiously, and was refreshed. 
 
 The appearance of the old gipsy-woman had 
 confirmed my suspicion— if any such confirmation 
 were needed — that I was again the victim of St. 
 Clair's rancorous persecution. But her presence 
 had likewise inspired me with a hope. I thought 
 to myself that where the old woman was, the 
 granddaughter might possibly not be far off: and 
 I fancied — or at least I clung with a despairing 
 tenacity to the idea, that I had a friend in Zarah. 
 I looked at my watch : it was now two o'clock in 
 the afternoon : it was the very time when I ought 
 to be returning to the Marchioness ! Oh, what 
 would she think?— and what would poor Beatrice 
 think likewise ? There was not woe for myself 
 alone, as the fruit of St. Clair's conduct : there 
 would be woe for others. For, alas ! not antici- 
 pating such a terrible calamity, I had omitted tc 
 inform the Marchioness of Campanella where her 
 unhsppy sister dwelt. 
 
 And now I began wondering when St. Clair 
 would make his appearance to dictate his terms to 
 me. Most probably one of the men— those hired 
 instruments of his — had gone to make him aware 
 that the plot so cunningly contrived to entrap me, 
 had succeeded — that I was safe and secure in my 
 prison-house— at his mercy! No doubt I might 
 look for a visit from him in the course of that 
 same day : he was not the man to sleep over the 
 projects which he contrived with so diabolical a 
 skill and by such unscrupulous means I 
 
 Time passed on. It was five o'clock — and the 
 gipsy-woman again made her appearance, — on this 
 occasion to bring a candle, which she placed upon 
 the table. Glancing at the tray, she perceived that 
 the food remained untouched: she said not a word, 
 but she left it there. She then quitted the room : 
 and again I heard the heavier footsteps of the man 
 in companionship with her own. I was now so 
 faint that I was compelled to partake of a piece of 
 bread ; and in nervous suspense I kept on wonder- 
 ing and wondering whether Zarah were with her 
 grandmother at the old farm-house, or whether she 
 might not be far away at the cottage in Warwick- 
 shire. My thoughts fluttered over a variety of 
 subjects— hopes and fears commingling — but the 
 latter painfully predominating. I felt that if I were 
 to remain in such a condition of mind for many 
 hours longer, it would be more than my brain could 
 support : it would reel — it would give way — I 
 should go mad. 
 
 Again I heard footsteps approaching on the 
 landing : this time they were different from those 
 which had previously reached my ears : the door 
 opened— and St. Cluir made his appearance. There 
 was a terribly wicked smile of triumph upon his 
 lips ; but there was also a certain resoluteness in 
 his luok ; and as he closed the door behind him, 
 he stood ne&r it for a few instants to contemplate 
 
 me. My cheeks flushed with a sudden inoi "'^*'''''" 
 at beholding my relentless persecutor. TheZ" ^ 
 felt that they became ashy white ; for the idea 
 struck me that it was indeed scarcely probable for- 
 tune would continue favouring me over and over 
 again, by enabling me to escape time after time 
 from the power of this bold bad man. 
 
 "Ellen," he said, at length breaking silence, 
 " again we meet. You have on many occasions 
 evaded and baffled me : but now it is my turn to 
 triumph. Did you think— self-sufficient girl that 
 you are ! — that I had for ever abandoned my hopes 
 and my designs with regard to you? No, no!— 
 even if from this heart of mine I could tear away 
 your image— even if from my soul I could pluck 
 out the passion with which you have inspired me— 
 there is nevertheless another reason why you must 
 become my victim. Or I will use a different term 
 if you will : I will say the companion of my life— 
 my mistress — your own interests to be identified 
 with mine ! Ah, interrupt me not ! — argue reason- 
 ably if you can : but suffer not your indignation 
 — your prudery, I will call it — to rise up as a bar- 
 rier between us. I said there was another reason : 
 you doubtless comprehend my meaning. You have 
 obtained an insight, in some unaccountable way, 
 into certain secrets, which, I do not attempt to 
 deny, are of vital import to myself " 
 
 " Stop, Captain St. Clair !" I ejaculated, as an 
 idea struck mej and inspired with the courage 
 arising therefrom, I continued to speak firmly and 
 with an air of confidence. " Listen to me I You 
 think that you have me in your power ; and so 
 far as my captivity in this isolated dwelling- 
 watched by your hired braves— is concerned, you 
 are right. I am in your power! But your 
 wickedness will speedily experience a terrific and 
 overwhelming punishment " 
 
 " Threats, my dear Ellen — mere idle threats !" 
 exclaimed St. Clair scornfully. " I despise them ! 
 You must know that I am playing a desperate 
 game; and, by heaven! it shall be played out! 
 You shall be mine !" 
 
 " Listen to me, I say !" — and I spoke vehe- 
 mently. "Eest assured that you will do well to 
 hear what I have to explain. You are a man of 
 many projects, each one more iniquitous than the 
 former ; and I, knowing you to be my enemy, 
 have taken my precautions. You may kill me. 
 Captain St. Clair; but fearful will be your punish- 
 ment ! Ah, you started at that word J5;•ec■(,'.^';oi^».• 
 but I will tell you what I mean — and you may then 
 judge for yourself whether they are well taken." 
 
 " Speak quick, Ellen !" he exclaimed ; " for I 
 am impatient of this parley :" — but at the same 
 time I could perceive that there was a certain 
 uneasy curiosity and suspense in his mind. 
 
 " To a faithful friend," I continued, speaking 
 with a solemn seriousness, " I have consigned a 
 packet. It is sealed ; and it contains a full state- 
 ment ot all that I know in respect to yourself — all 
 that I know in respect to Lady Lilla Esscndine— 
 yes, and it contains likewise a certain letter— a 
 
 letter written by that criminal woman Ah ! I 
 
 see by your countenance that you have heard from 
 her lips the fact that this letter was in my posses- 
 sion I" 
 
 " Proceed, proceed !" interjected St. Clair, with 
 a visibly increasing uneasiness, despite his endea- 
 vours to conceal it.
 
 190 
 
 EtLEH PBECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OV A» ACTEB8S. 
 
 c .aat sealed packet," I continued, "I have 
 .jnfided to the hands of a friend ; and I 8aid at the 
 I time that if ever I should remain for twenty-four 
 hours absent from my home without sending a 
 ' written explanation to account for my absence, 
 this friend of mine was to consider that I was the 
 victim of treachery at your hands. My farther in- 
 junctions were to the effect that, in the case which 
 I have named, the seal of the packet was to be 
 broken and its contents were to be read. Need I 
 add, C.»ptain St. Clair, that on the perusal of those 
 contents this friend of whom I am speaking will 
 ' appeal to the law — not merely on my behalf, but to 
 I bringyourself to ju»tice ? And therefore. Captain 
 St. Clair, you may now kill me if you think fit : you 
 may add another deed of turpitude to the black 
 catalogue of your crimes — you may even surround 
 with the deepest mystery the murder of myself: 
 but, oh ! for all your former misdeeds there will 
 be exposure and there will be punishment !" 
 ' St. Clair looked aghast as I thus spoke. The 
 tale that I told relative to the sealed packet and 
 the solemn injunctions to a friend, was a mere 
 fabrication, suggested at the instant by the de- 
 sperate circumstances in which I was placed : but 
 the reader will doubtless admit that it was a venial 
 as well as justifiable falsehood. I had hardly dared 
 hope it would have the effect which I now saw 
 that it produced : St. Clair believed it fully, and 
 he was frightened, 
 
 "You taunted me just now," I continued, 
 " with the belief that you would abandon your 
 hopes and designs concerning me : but it is for me 
 to taunt you with having rushed madly into a new 
 crime towards me in the infatuated confidence of 
 your own self-sufficiency. Did you suppose that I 
 should fail to adopt precautions, when all past ex- 
 perience had shown me how desperately persever- 
 ing you could be in your wickedness ? No ! — and 
 as for your pledge, made on a certain memorable 
 evening — not very long ago— in St. James's Park 
 — not for an instant did I believe it ! My precau- 
 tions have therefore been taken; and if that packet 
 be once opened, the consequences are inevitable — 
 the hand of justice fastens itself upon Captain St. 
 Clair !" 
 
 He seemed thoroughly irresolute how to act : 
 his scornful self-sufficiency, his haughty confidence 
 in himself, were gone. He was pale, and he 
 trembled. But at length an idea seemed to strike 
 him ; and he said contemptuously, " Do not trust 
 too much to your friend Norman. Within two 
 hours from this present moment the packet shall 
 be wheedled from his possession ■" 
 
 " Again does your accustomed astuteness fail to 
 serve you," I replied, assuming an air of confidence 
 as well as of scornful defiance in proportion as 
 having carefully felt my way, I acquired the as- 
 surance that I was treading on safe ground. " You 
 think to ascertain from my lips the name of that 
 friend to whom I have confided the packet : but 
 you will not succeed in learning it. It is not Mr. 
 Norman — neither is it Mr. Richards : but it is to 
 a professional man — a solicitor — a man of resolute- 
 ness and determination, who will do his duty, if 
 by circumstances he be called upon to act." 
 
 " Of course you mean Parks ?" said St. Clair, 
 almost contemptuously, as he felt convinced that 
 he bad fathomed the secret. 
 
 " Mr. Parks is a villain 1" I rejoined : " and he 
 
 knows my opinion of him. If you have not 
 learnt this much from his lips, you hold less com- 
 munication than I had fancied with those who are 
 the instruments of your vile purposes." 
 
 Again St. Clair looked bewildered : he felt him- 
 self baffled and defeated at every point. He was 
 about to say something more, when he suddenly 
 turned upon his heel and quitted the room. He 
 locked the door behind him ; and his footsteps re- 
 treated hastily along the landing. 
 
 "What did he now mean to do ? At one moment 
 my success had seemed certain : I had expected to 
 hear him sue for terms and implore my continued 
 secresy in respect to his misdeeds, as the condition 
 of my immediate release. Ah ! doubtless he was 
 going to consult with Lady Lilla Essendine ? 
 Perhaps they would say to each other that they 
 had better risk everything, even the assassination 
 of myself, than suffer me to go again into the 
 world after this new outrage which had been per- 
 petrated against me. And now I blamed myself 
 for having in my fabricated tale represented so 
 long an interval as that of twenty-four hours be- 
 fore the pretended packet was to be opened. Yet 
 I had not inconsiderately speci&ed this period : I 
 had done so because I thought that it would 
 seem more consistent with truth. I had fan- 
 cied that it would appear improbable if I had 
 particularized a shorter period of disappearance 
 as a signal for exciting so much alarm in the 
 mind of the friend to whom, according to my 
 statement, I had entrusted the packet. I could 
 not therefore injustice blame myself for any over- 
 sight, inconsiderateness, or deficiency of astute 
 policy. 
 
 Sut what meant St. Clair to do ? Had he in 
 reality gone to consult with Lady Lilla Essendine P 
 Oh ! if I were to be left to her mercy — if my lite 
 were to depend upon her decision — adieu to all 
 hope ! I knew that a woman whose soul is 
 thoroughly nerved to crime, becomes even more 
 desperate and unscrupulous than the most criminal 
 of men : one of my own favourite characters — that 
 of Lady Macbeth — afforded, though but the poet's 
 creation, a striking example of that truth. 
 
 Time passed on : it was now seven o'clock in 
 the evening. Seven o'clock!— and in another 
 hour Beatrice would have to appear at the theatre 
 —that is to say, unless her spirit were completely 
 crushed by the thought that I had wilfully broken 
 my promise to return and that I had deliberately 
 abandoned her. I was terribly uneasy on her 
 account as well as on my own. A hundred times 
 did I rush to the window with the intention of 
 shrieking for assistance : but the dread of those 
 two ferocious-looking men restrained me. I en- 
 deavoured to console myself in respect to Beatrice. 
 I said, " When she found that I did not return, 
 she doubtless sought me in Hunter Street : she 
 must have there learnt that I had not been home 
 since the morning ; and she will think that I am 
 still engaged entirely on her own business." 
 
 And yet I could not thus satisfy my mind. I 
 knew that the pride of Beatrice would prevent her 
 from seeking me again, if she fancied that I had 
 voluntarily and intentionally deserted her. In a 
 word, I was tortured by every species of horrible 
 idea, not only relative to myself, but respecting 
 Beatrice likewise. 
 
 It was at seven o'clock that I last consulted mj
 
 ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE ME3IOIE3 OF AN ACIEESS. 
 
 191 
 
 watch ; and it was a few minutes afterwards that 
 I heard a sound as if of some one moving in an 
 adjacent room. I started up, and listened. Were 
 the murderers coming ? The blood stagnated in 
 my veins at the thought. I was looking towards 
 that side of the room in which the cupboard was 
 situated, when the cupboard door opened, and a 
 female form made its appearance. So dim was 
 the light of the single candle, that I did not imme- 
 diately recognise who it was : but the lowly mur- 
 mured word "Hush !" was wafted to my ear; and 
 the next instant hope thrilled to my heart, as I per- 
 ceived that it was Zarah. She was dressed differ- 
 ently from the style of her apparel on the former 
 occasions that I had seen her. She wore a dark 
 stuff gown, which displayed her robust but well- 
 proportioned shape to considerable advantage ; her 
 jetty black hair was carefully arranged in bands; 
 she had white hose and neat shoes ; and altogether 
 she looked absolutely handsome. 1 have in a former 
 chapter noticed how superb were her large black 
 eyes— of what cherry redness were the full lips — 
 and how white as ivory were the teeth : I also said 
 on a previous occasion that she bad a look of bold 
 hardihood though by no means insolent : but even 
 that hardihood itself was now tempered down, as if 
 by the refining influence of some new and different 
 sentiments which had taken possession of her soul. 
 StiU, notwithstanding the i: provement which in 
 every respect now characterised her, it would have 
 been impossible, even if I thus beheld her for the 
 first time, to mistake her gipsy origin. There was 
 the swarthiness of the complexion— there was the 
 lustreless coal-blackness of the hair, which was to- 
 tally deficient in natural gloss — and there was the 
 peculiar vividness of light in the large eyes, which 
 denoted the Zingaree. 
 
 Hope, I said, thrilled through every pulse as I 
 thus recognised Zarah ; and she advanced towards 
 me. I was about to catch her by the hand to wel- 
 come her as my deliverer, when the thought sud- 
 denly struck me that she as well as her mother 
 must be cognizant of the crimes which had been 
 committed by Edwin St. Clair and Lady Lilla 
 Essendine, and that they were even accomplices in 
 those crimes. It was thus that at the very moment 
 when Zarah's presence was most welcome, I expe- 
 rienced a species of shock — my soul seemed to re- 
 volt from the woman who stood before me. She 
 however did not appear to notice what was passing 
 within me: but she hastened to say, "Miss Percy, 
 again will I endeavour to befriend you." 
 
 "A thousand, thousand thanks 1" I ejaculated, 
 with a real enthusiasm ; for all in a moment my 
 dislike towards Zarah was absorbed in a sense of 
 gratitude for this new service which she offered to 
 render me. 
 
 " Hush !" she said; " speak not too loud ! My 
 grandmother is on the watch ; and the two men are 
 likewise still in the house. Hasten to put on your 
 bonnet and scarf — and follow me." 
 
 I lost no time in obeying Zarah's directions. 
 The cupboard-door was standing wide open : she 
 took the candle in her hand, and led the way. I 
 now perceived that there was an inner door, which 
 likewise stood open and cocamunicated with the 
 next room; so that what appeared to be a cup- 
 bjard was in reality a species of recess between 
 the two apartments, with a door on either side. 
 Xhe inner door she closed, both of ua still remain- 
 
 ing in the recess. Then she produced a large 
 nail J and this she thrust into the key-hole, where 
 she worked it about with some violence for a 
 few moments, evidently to give the lock the ap- 
 pearance of having been forced and hampered. 
 This being done, she opened the door again, and 
 lifted it off its hinges : for these were of the kind 
 which allowed that process to be adopted. This 
 she did because there was a bolt on the inner side ; 
 but it was not so firmly put on as to prevent the 
 door from being thus lifted upward to the extent 
 of an inch, which would really have been quite 
 sufficient to remove it altogether, even supposing 
 that the whole process had been performed by my- 
 self from my own side of that door, and that the 
 bolt had not been previously drawn back on the 
 other side. We passed into the next room, which 
 was completely denuded of furniture : the walls and 
 ceilings were blackened and damp ; and in several 
 places the plaster had fallen in. There was a door 
 on the farther side of this room : Zirah took a key 
 from her pocket, and locked it. Then, with a 
 large nail, she forced off the lock — which she threw 
 down in the room, together with the nail itself. 
 
 "Now, Miss Percy," she said, " yoa will in a 
 few moments be at freedom. Perhaps you are un- 
 aware of the neighbourhood in which this house is 
 situated ?" 
 
 " I am entirely ignorant," was my response. 
 
 " And I dare not offer to guide you : I cannot 
 leave the place for such a purpose," continued 
 Zarah. " Attend however to my instructions. 
 On gaining the road— or rather the bye-lane, in 
 which the house stands, you will see lights at a 
 distance. Proceed in that direction ; and in about 
 a quarter of an hour you will reach the vicinage of 
 Highbury. You can then inquire your way. But 
 while threading the lane, should you hear the 
 sounds of a horseman advancing, retreat into the 
 adjoining fields — or hide yourself in some manner 
 — for fear lest you should fall in with Edwin St. 
 Clair. And now, before we part, I have two 
 favours to implore of you." 
 
 " Whatever you may ask, I am bound to con- 
 cede," was my reply : " but I sincerely hope that 
 this time you will not stipulate — — " 
 
 " Yes— I must stipulate for secrecy!" she in- 
 terrupted me. " You know not perhaps the im- 
 mensity of the service I have this evening ren- 
 dered you ; and it is not too much for me to im- 
 plore silence and secrecy on your part." 
 
 " You assuredly have a right to dictate," I re- 
 joined; "and it were the height of ingratitude for 
 me to hesitate in yielding obedience to your in- 
 junctions." 
 
 " I expected no other answer from your lips," 
 said Zarah. " Yes, Miss Percy — again must I en- 
 join your forbearance in respect to Edwin St. 
 Clair. That is one favour which I solicit at your 
 hands; and you have already granted it. The 
 other is that you will afford me an interview to- 
 morrow, at the hour and place which you maj 
 think fit to name." 
 
 I was about to bid the gipsy call upon me in 
 Hunter Street; but a second thought reminded 
 me that the singularity of such a visit would 
 necessitate some explanations to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman, and that these I could scarcely give 
 without alluding to the circumstances that had 
 rendered me acquainted with Zarah. I accord-
 
 193 
 
 ELLEW PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OE AN ACTEE83. 
 
 ingly said, " Can you not come to me to-morrow 
 evening at the theatre ? The piece in which I am 
 to perform will be over by ten o'clock : I shall 
 then be in my dressing-room : you can send up 
 any name you think fit — I shall know whom it re- 
 presents — and you will immediately obtain admit- 
 tance to me. Pardon me for suggesting that it 
 would be better perhaps if you were to wear a veil 
 
 over your countenance " 
 
 " I accept the appointment, Miss Percy," inter- 
 rupted Zarah : " and rest assured I shall come in a 
 manner which will not in any way compromise 
 you, nor engender gossiping surmises concerning 
 the object of such a visit." 
 
 " And now, before we part," I said, " permit 
 me to renew the assurance of my deep gratitude 
 for this as well as the former services you have 
 
 rendered me " 
 
 "To-morrow evening," replied Zarab, "I shall 
 ask you a boon, which will fully acquit you of any 
 obligation towards me. And now follow me." 
 
 She opened the door, from which she had so dex- 
 terously wrenched off the lock; and the light of 
 the candle which she still carried in her hand, re- 
 vealed a small passage, with a narrow precipitous 
 staircase leading down to the ground floor. She 
 made a sign for me to descend as gently as pos- 
 sible, — she herself still leading the way. At the 
 bottom of the staircase there was a door, which 
 was merely bolted ; and before she opened it, she 
 extinguished the candle. We were thus left in 
 utter darkness ; and now I coufd hear the sounds 
 of voices in some neighbouring room. They were 
 those of the two men who had brought me to the 
 old farm-house. I could likewise hear that Zarah 
 had deposited the candlestick on one of the lower 
 steps of the staircase : then she cautiously drew 
 back the bolt, and opened the door. 
 
 "Turn the corner to the right," she hastily 
 whispered : and I stepped across the threshold, — 
 the door instantaneously closing behind me. 
 
 The reader wUl have seen that all the details 
 attending this escape of mine, were so well con- 
 trived by Zarah as to have the appearance of being 
 effected by myself alone, without any assistance 
 from a friendly hand. Supposing that I had really 
 found that large nail in my prison-chamber, it 
 would seem as if I had used it to unlock the inner 
 door of the cupboard, so as to be enabled to lift 
 that door off its hinges despite the bolt on the 
 opposite side— that I had next used the nail to 
 wrench off the lock from the door of the adjoining 
 apartment— that having descended the staircase, I 
 bad found the door at the bottom, and that I had 
 extinguished the candle ere issuing from the 
 house. 
 
 In obedience to Zarah's direction, I turned the 
 corner of the building : I passed along the side of 
 the house; and a gate in alow paling admitted 
 me into the lane. The evening was dark : but I 
 could perceive lights twinkling at a distance of 
 apparently about half-a-mile; and I sped in that 
 direction. The lane was lonely ; and 1 shuddered 
 with apprehension lest, my escape being discovered, 
 I should be pursued by St. Clair's hired ruffians. 
 I ran forward at the utmost of my speed : but not 
 many minutes had I thus advanced, when the 
 sounds of a gallopping horse's feet came upon my 
 ears. Fortunately there was a gate close at hand ; 
 and I rushed into the field to which it led. Crouch- 
 
 ing behind the hedge, I nevertheless remained suf- 
 ficiently near the gate to be enabled to watch tho 
 road. The horseman galloped past : and the ob- 
 scurity was not too great to prevent me from dis- 
 cerning that it was Edwin St. Clair. He waB 
 proceeding towards the farm-house ; and I thought 
 to myself, " He has decided upon my fate : but, 
 heaven be thanked I he is again baffled and 
 defeated in his intentions, whatsoever they may 
 be." 
 
 I did not dare return into the lane ; I knew 
 that in a few minutes St. Clair would discover 
 my escape, and a pursuit would be instituted. 
 There was a path across the fields; and as there 
 were many lights glimmering ahead, it led in the 
 direction of some of them. I was not long in 
 reaching an avenue of villa-residences; and a 
 glimpse of a policeman's uniform suddenly set all 
 my apprehensions at rest ; for succour was thus at 
 hand in case of necessity. Assuming an air of 
 composure, I inquired my way to the nearest 
 cab-stand ; whereupon the policeman informed me 
 he had just seen an empty cab at the door of a 
 public-house about a hundred yards along the 
 avenue— but that if I failed to secure it I should 
 most probably have to walk as far as Highbury 
 Gate, which was nearly a mile distant. I thanked 
 him, and hurried on towards the public-house. 
 There I was fortunate enough in obtaining the 
 Tehicle to which he had alluded ; and I gave the 
 requisite instructions to the driver. 
 
 It was my intention to proceed first of all to 
 the theatre, in the hope of finding Beatrice there : 
 but I had my misgivings— for I remembered the 
 declaration she had made that if I returned not 
 according to my promise, she should abandon a 
 city where she had known so much misery. Thus 
 during the drive I was so full of anxiety and 8U8> 
 pense that the agitation of my mind almost com- 
 pletely absorbed the sense of joy and gratitude at 
 my escape from the old farm-house. At length 
 the theatre was reached ; and a hasty glance at 
 my watch showed me that it was now nine o'clock. 
 On alighting at the private entrance, I hastily put 
 a question to one of the underlings who was 
 loitering there. 
 
 "Has Miss Howard made her appearance?" 
 was the query ; and I dreaded what the answer 
 might be. 
 
 "No, Miss," responded the underling; "and 
 there was immense disappointment—" 
 
 " But she sent some letter— some message per- 
 haps ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss : and Mr. Richards could not under- 
 stand it. She said that circumstances prevented 
 her from keeping her engagement, which she there- 
 fore begged to decline. This was at about six 
 o'clock — a notice was posted up——" 
 
 " But what did Mr. Richards do ?" I inquired, 
 with feverish anxiety, for I was cruelly afflicted. 
 
 "He didn't know where the lady lived. Miss," 
 responded the underling: "he sent up to ask you 
 —but you were not at home. Mr. Norman said 
 that you were most likely passing the day with 
 some acquaintance : he named Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine, I think— —I know that a message was sent 
 off somewhere — and still you were not to be found. 
 But I am sure, Miss, that Mr. liichards will be 
 glad to see you; for the notice was posted up toj 
 late to prevent the crowds from gathering when
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 193 
 
 =E'|l|li'i#!'li'i|i 
 
 iiii'> 
 
 
 the doors opened. There was terrible disappoint- 
 ment " 
 
 " It is too late for me to do any good by seeing 
 Mr. Richards," I hastily interrupted the man, " Go 
 and tell him as well as Mr. and Mrs. Iforoian that 
 I have just called, and that I am gone to Miss 
 Howard's residence." 
 
 I reentered the cab, and was driven into the 
 wretched street at no great distance, where the 
 house in which Beatrice had lodged was situated. 
 Hastily entering the shop, I inquired of the old 
 woman whether Miss Howard was ut home — though 
 1 felt painfully convinced that the answer would be 
 in the negative. 
 
 "At home. Miss?" she exclaimed. "She's 
 gone !" 
 
 " Go^ !" I gasped forth — not in astonishment, 
 but in * ter grief. 
 
 " Yes — she went away all of a sudden," conti- 
 nued the woman. "Let me see— it must have 
 No. 25. — Ellen Pebct. 
 
 been at about half-past six. She paid me a week's 
 rent, instead of giving me the usual notice ; and I 
 thought the poor creature spoke in a queer voice, 
 though I couldn't see her face, for her veil was 
 folded two or three times over it ■ ■" 
 
 " Poor Beatrice !" I inwardly murmured. 
 " My God ! what has become of you ?" 
 
 " Slie went away on foot, Miss, with a little 
 bundle in her hand," proceeded the woman. " I 
 think she was very poor : she must have seen 
 better days— she was quite the lady ! She was 
 nearly always indoors uutil lately : she always kept 
 herself respectable, and had no followers of any 
 kind. In fact, I have never knowed her name till 
 you called this morning." 
 
 I tarried to hear no more — but rushed out of 
 the shop, fie-entering the cab, I ordered it to 
 drive to Mivart's Hotel. My grief was greater 
 than I can describe: I wept bitterly— I sobbed as 
 if my heart would break .- tbe idea tliat poor Bea-
 
 194 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE jMEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 trice must fancy that I had abandoned her, and 
 that she had rendered herself an outcast — perhaps 
 a homeless wanderer — was something so shocking 
 as to drive me almost to despair. It was in the 
 most miserable frame of mind that I reached 
 Mivart's Hotel ; and it cost me a gigantic eflfort to 
 compose my feelings so far as outward appearances 
 went, while I inquired of the waiter if I could see 
 the Marchioness of Campanella. 
 
 " Her ladyship has been asking if a lady of the 
 
 name of Miss Trafford " 
 
 " It ia I," was my hasty response. 
 The waiter summoned the Italian lacquey ; and 
 he at once conducted me up to the apartment 
 where I had seen the Marchioness in the morn- 
 ing. Her ladyship was again alone ; and as she 
 hastened forward to receive me, I could see that 
 she was a prey to considerable agitation. 
 
 " Thank heaven, you have come at last !" she 
 exclaimed. " Has anything happened ?" 
 
 I was now completely overpowered by my feel- 
 ings. I threw myself on the sofa, and sobbed 
 violently. 
 
 " Oh, Miss TraflEbrd ! Miss Trafford !" cried the 
 Marchioness ; " for Grod's sake keep me not in 
 
 Buspense ! My poor sister " 
 
 " She is gone !" I gasped forth : and I could say 
 xio more, for my voice was choked with sobs. 
 
 " Gone F" ejaculated the Marchioness, " Oh, 
 no!— do not tell me that she has fled! Just 
 
 heaven ! This wild grief of your's " 
 
 " Oh !" I exclaimed, " it is not my fault ! Kcit 
 for worlds would I have abandoned her !" — and I 
 literally wrung my hands in despair. "But she 
 is gone— she has fled, I know tiot whither ! Sue 
 has left not a trace behind !" 
 
 The Marchioness clasped het handi3, giving vent 
 to moans of anguish ; and the tears gushed forth 
 from her eyes. FoP some minutes the grief of 
 both was violent : but at length we composed our- 
 selves partially— sufficient at least for conversation 
 — though I cannot describe how painfully broken 
 it was, and how frequently interrupted by fresh 
 outbursts of tears. 
 
 " When I left your ladyship this morning," I 
 said, " it was to hasten back to Beatrice : but in 
 the very neighbourhood of her abode, I was seized 
 upon yes, seized upon — in the broad day- 
 light — thrust into a vehicle, and hurried away. 
 Astounding as the tale may seem, I solemnly de- 
 clare that it is true !" 
 
 " Ob, Miss Trafford !" exclaimed the Mar- 
 chioness, "no such assurance is necessary from 
 your lips ! But good heavens ! such an out- 
 rage " 
 
 " Yes, my lady," I continued : " there is a per- 
 son — I need not mention his name — who has made 
 me the object of his bitter persecution, because I 
 have rejected his overtures. Suffice it to say, how- 
 ever, that I have been held in captivity until this 
 evening. On regaining my freedom — thanks to 
 friendly intervention — I sped to the theatre. 
 Beatrice had not appeared! I hastened to her 
 lodging : she had fled, no one knows whither !" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Trafford, this is a terrible calamity !" 
 said the unhappy Marchioness. " I pleaded success- 
 fully with my husband — his conduct was most 
 generous — we waited together hour after hour, 
 expecting your return ! Unfortunately we knew 
 not where Beatrice dwelt: but we felt certain that 
 
 you were with her. When eight o'clock came, and 
 you made not your appearance, the Marquis set 
 off in search of you. He said that he should first 
 call at the theatre ; and if he heard nothing satis- 
 factory there, he should proceed to your own abode 
 in the hope of finding you. Now, what is to be 
 done ? — what course are we to adopt towards dis- 
 covering the unhappy Beatrice ?" 
 
 " This is the only course I" I exclaimed, as a 
 sudden thought struck me; and speeding towards 
 a writing-table, I hastily penned the following 
 words : — 
 
 " To Beatbige. — You have acted under a mis- 
 take ; and you are implored to communicate at 
 once with your sincere friend in Hunter Street." 
 
 " Let this," I said, " be inserted as an advertise- 
 ment in all the newspapers. It is now our only 
 hope. God grant that it may be fulfilled! — 
 Ah!" I ejaculated, "there is yet another chance! 
 Beatrico may have sent some communication to 
 me at my own residence. I will speed thither; 
 and if there be any good tidings, I will immedi- 
 ately return. But if your ladyship should not see 
 me again this evening, you must conclude that I 
 have nothing favourable to impart." 
 
 I took my leave of the Marchioness of Campa- 
 nella, and hastened to Hunter Street. There was 
 no letter for me : but I learnt that an Italian 
 gentleman had called within the hour to inquire if 
 I were at home. This I knew, from what her 
 ladyship had said, must be the Marquis of C impa- 
 nella. The Normans returned j and I endeavoured 
 to wear a somewhat composed demeanour in their 
 presence. From what the underling had told me at 
 the theatre, I had seen that the Normans were 
 not particularly surprised at my absence ; and I 
 suffered them to believe that I had passed the day 
 with Lady Cecilia Urban. They of course spoke 
 of Beatrice, whom they only knew however by the 
 name of Miss Howard; and they asked if ^ could 
 explain her conduct P I said that I had seen her 
 in the icQorning — that she, was much excited— and 
 that under all circumstances I was not astonished, 
 though much grieved, at the breach of the engage- 
 ment. Mr. Norman informed me that the audience 
 showed symptoms of anger at the disappointment; 
 for Mr. Eichards had filled the newspapers with 
 puffs and had covered the walls with placards rela- 
 tive to the expected debut. He was compelled to 
 go forward and make a speech, which had the 
 effect of quieting the audience. 
 
 I retired to bed that night as completely mise- 
 rable as ever in my life I had been. Hours elapsed 
 ere slumber visited my eyes : and when it at length 
 came, it was restless and feverish— filled with 
 visions, in which the pale pensive countenance of 
 Beatrice appeared to be gazing in saddest reproach- 
 fuhkess upon me. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 ZAEAH. 
 
 Iif the evening of the following day I made my 
 appearance at the theatre in the character of Mrs. 
 Beverley iu " The Gamester." Ah i I can assure
 
 ELLEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OE AN ACTEES9. 
 
 195 
 
 the reader that I was at the instant compelled to 
 exert preterhuman efforts to compose ray mind 
 BuflSciently for the task that I was thus forced 
 to undertake : but the state of my feelings soon 
 gave a terribly truthful vividness to my personifi- 
 cation of the character. I was inspired by a real 
 grief— filled with a veritable agony. In the most 
 effective parts I still kept thinking of Beatrice ; 
 and that audience of thousands of people little sus- 
 pected how much there was of natural woe in my 
 performance that night. Immense though all my 
 previous triumphs had been, they were eclipsed by 
 this one : but when I retired to my dressing-room, 
 I had barely time to dismiss the lady's-maid on 
 some pretext, before I burst out into a complete 
 agony of sobbing and weeping. 
 
 The paroxysm of my anguish was only just 
 passed, when my maid returned with the intima- 
 tion that a female, who gave some name — I now 
 forget what it was — desired to see me. Snowing 
 it was Zarah, I ordered that she should be imme- 
 diately admitted ; and in a few moments she made 
 her appearance. A dark veil concealed her coun- 
 tenance. She was dressed plainly but in a most 
 respectable style ; and no one who had seen her 
 enter the establishment, could have suspected that 
 she belonged to the gipsy race. I bade the maid 
 retire again ; and I was left alone with Zarah. 
 
 "You succeeded. Miss Percy," she said, "in 
 escaping last night from the notice of Edwin St. 
 Clair as he returned on horseback along the 
 lane." 
 
 "Yes — I avoided him," I responded. "But, 
 tell me, Zarah — did your stratagem completely 
 succeed ? did he fail to suspect " 
 
 "He suspected not my complicity," answered 
 Zarah. " Nothing could exceed his rage when he 
 found that you had taken to flight : but he was 
 not the less astonished at that which he naturally 
 conceived to be your extraordinary presence of 
 mind — your perseverance in overcoming difficulties 
 — in short, the whole details of your escape. His 
 vexation was indescribable. You may suppose. 
 Miss Percy, what it must have been when I tell 
 you that for weeks past he had been settling his 
 plans to ensnare you at that old farm-house. He 
 had the room furnished and fitted up for your re- 
 ception : he ordered the bars to be put to the 
 windows ; and when his arrangements were 
 complete, he employed those two men to watch 
 your movements and avail themselves of the first 
 opportunity to seize upon you and carry you oflf. 
 It was only two or three days ago that he wrote to 
 my grandmother to come up to London: but he 
 specified not in the letter for what purpose he re- 
 quired her services. We arrived in the metropolis 
 the day before yesterday; and according to St. 
 Clair's directions, we took a lodging on the out- 
 skirts of Highbury. His object was that we 
 should wait there until your capture should place 
 my grandmother's^ services in requisition. Thus 
 you see that we were not many hours in the me- 
 tropolis before the message came to bid us repair 
 to the farm-house. It was only on setting foot 
 within the walls of that place, that we learnt the 
 object for which we had been summoned from 
 Warwickshire. Best assured, my dear Miss Percy, 
 that if I had previously known how St. Clair was 
 once more plotting against your peace and safety, 
 I should have sent you due warning." 
 
 " I feel convinced that you would have done wo," 
 was my answer. " But tell me, Zarah — why have 
 you thus interested yourself in me ?" 
 
 The gipsy, who had raised her veil, fixed her 
 large dark eyes upon my countenance, and said, 
 " Can you not give me credit for good feelings, — 
 feelings of friendship " 
 
 "Pardon me for saying," I interrupted her, 
 " that I think you have some deeper motive. St. 
 Clair evidently fancies that in all these machina- 
 tions of his he can rely upon your assistance as 
 well as that of your grandmother " 
 
 " Yes, yes — he may entertain the idea !" ex- 
 claimed Zarah, with mingled vehemence and bit- 
 terness : " but he is mistaken — and you see that 
 he is ! Perhaps, Miss Percy," she continued, in a 
 slower tone and with a reflective manner, " he is 
 not quite so desirous of having my succour and 
 complicity in these projects of his as he may ap- 
 pear to be. But he cannot dispense with the ser- 
 vices of my grandmother, — who has been, and still 
 is, an unscrupulous agent of Edwin St. Clair's ; 
 and whithersoever the old woman goes, I am bound 
 to accompany her." 
 
 " Yes, Zarah," I said, seriously and reservedly 
 — for I experienced a sudden return of that strong 
 loathing with which the gipsy's presence had in- 
 spired me on her first appearance in the prison- 
 chamber ; " I am afraid your grandmother has in- 
 deed proved an unscrupulous agent " 
 
 " Ah, I see what is passing in your mind. Miss 
 Percy !" interrupted Zarah, as she half started 
 from her seat, while her eyes flashed with sudden 
 and wild fires, and her countenance grew crimson 
 with the warm blood mantling through the duski- 
 ness of her complexion : " but you wrong me ! I 
 myself have been no accomplice in a crime !" 
 
 " Zarah, if this be true," I exclaimed fervidly, 
 " you know not with what pleasure I receive the 
 assurance : for I had every reason to be grateful 
 towards you — the sentiment of gratitude is itself 
 closely allied with friendship— and it would be im- 
 possible to entertain such friendships-^" 
 
 " I comprehend you. Miss Percy. But enough," 
 continued Zarah : " there is naught in my charac- 
 ter which may shock you to that extent. It is 
 true that whatsoever has happened has become 
 known to me — no matter how : true also that I 
 have held my peace — I have put a seal upon my 
 lips, instead of proclaiming to the world or whis- 
 pering in the ears of justice all that has thus come 
 to my knowledge. In this respect perhaps I may 
 be criminal in your eyes " 
 
 " Alas !" I said ; " how dare I think so when to 
 a certain extent I myself am enabled to suspect 
 the nature of those awful mysteries which enve- 
 lope St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine as with a 
 dark cloud ? Yet on mi/ lips also is there a seal ; 
 and it is you, Zarah, who have placed it there !" 
 
 " True, Miss Percy !" rejoined the gipsy ; " and 
 you remain silent because gratitude towards me 
 forces you to respect the injunction which I gave 
 in that sense. Can you not therefore understand 
 that there may be motives of an equally strong 
 nature — even much stronger perhaps — that bind 
 me to silence ? My aged grandmother, for instance 
 — think you that I would involve her " 
 
 " Enough, Zarah !" I interrupted her : " this 
 subject is too painful for further discussion. As 
 for myself, I am indebted to you in a thousand
 
 195 
 
 ELIKN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIBS OF AW ACTHES3. 
 
 ways. Twice have you preserved my honour, and 
 perhaps my life — first at the cottage in Warwick- 
 shire, and then at the old farm-house. For these 
 reasons alone do I feel myself bound to testify my 
 gratitude according to the modes which you your- 
 self may dictate. But you have done more: for 
 the suggestion you gave me in that note which 
 you tossed into the window of the post-chaise as I 
 was returning from Embledon, enabled me most 
 efiectually to baffle St. Clair in a project that would 
 have stamped mj unbappiness for the remainder 
 of my life !" 
 
 The reader cannot fail to understand that I al- 
 luded to that scene in St. James's Park when my 
 father was rescued from the power of Edwin St. 
 Clair. 
 
 " Therefore," I continued, " my deepest grati- 
 tude is your due for the manifold services which 
 you have rendered me ; and believe me, Zarah, I 
 am incapable of proving ungrateful. But you said 
 just now that you were bound to follow your grand- 
 mother whithersoever she goes?" 
 
 " Yes — it has been so," replied the gipsy ; " but 
 it need not be so henceforth. I will explain my- 
 self. My grandmother is subject to fits of a most 
 dangerous and distressing character — which seize 
 upon her suddenly, striking her down as if by a 
 lightning-flash, and making her writhe in horrible 
 convulsions- For this reason has it been necessary 
 that I should ever remain near her ; and she has 
 not dared travel without me. But now there is 
 another girl of our tribe whom she has taken 
 to be her attendant, her companion, and her nurse ; 
 and I am freed from the hideous restraint in which 
 that duty kept me. I will tell you frankly. Miss 
 Percy — my soul is sick of the schemes and intrigues 
 to which that old woman lends herself. Imagine 
 not that I am paying you an idle compliment or 
 administering a fulsome flattery, when I declare 
 that your example produced its impression upon 
 me. I heard you spoken of as the personification 
 of virtue as well as of beauty and of talent ; and 
 a person must be lost and depraved indeed who 
 could be brought in contact with so estimable a 
 being as you are, without experiencing a salutary 
 influence. During the last few weeks I have re- 
 flected solemnly and profoundly upon many things ; 
 and I have at length resolved to take a particular 
 step, to the furtherance of which I crave your 
 assistance." 
 
 I listened with considerable interest to this 
 speech of the gipsy Zarah : indeed I was to a cer- 
 tain extent touched by it ; and I said, " You may 
 calculate upon my succour for any good object 
 which you have in view." 
 
 " Before I proceed," said the gipsy, as a recol- 
 lection appeared to strike her, " suffer me to make 
 a single observation in reference to a topic which 
 you yourself ere now spoke of as a painful one. 
 My grandmother has not been altogether so guilty 
 in her complicity with certain persons as you may 
 suppose, and indeed as you have reason to ima- 
 gine. Let me illustrate my meaning by an ex- 
 ample taken at random. Suppose that I enter an 
 apothecary's shop and inquire for a drug that will 
 throw a person into a deep sleep ; the apothecary 
 sells me this crug ; but I use it in a quantity ari 
 in a manner which produces the eternal sleep of 
 death. Could you in such a case tax that apothe- 
 cary with direct complicity in the extreme crime 
 
 that had been committed ? You understand me. 
 Miss Percy ? And now not another syllable upon 
 that point !" 
 
 " No, not another syllable !" I said, shuddering 
 at the unmistakable corroboration which Zarah'a 
 words had just furnished of the dark suspicions 
 I had previously entertained in respect to Edwin 
 St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine. " But I am 
 glad you have told me all these things ; for can- 
 didly do I confess that my feeling has become 
 warmer and less alloyed towards yourself. And 
 now proceed, Zarah — tell me what project you 
 have formed, and in which way I can assist you P" 
 
 " I have separated from my grandmother," re- 
 sumed the gipsy ; " and I have taken apartments 
 in the metropolis. I possess ample means — I ask 
 you not therefore for pecuniary succour " 
 
 " And if you were to ask it," I emphatically in- 
 terjected, " it would be most readily afforded to 
 the extent of my ability." 
 
 " I know it. Miss Percy," replied Zarah ; " but 
 it is not assistance of that kind which I require. 
 Listen ! You may perhaps be surprised— you may 
 perhaps regard my statement as ludicrous, when £ 
 inform you that I am determined to instruct my 
 mind — to educate myself — yes, even to the acquir- 
 ing of accomplishments. But I am ignorant how 
 to effect this aim. Why should I hesitate to con- 
 fess that I seek to render myself a lady in man- 
 ners, in bearing, and in tastes P It is my ambition 
 to study all refining influences — to gain that gloss, 
 that polish, which may in a measure mitigate, if 
 not altogether conceal, the rudeness, the coarse- 
 ness, the uncouthness which have been necessarily 
 associated with my wandering and restless mode of 
 life. In a word. Miss Percy, I seek your assist- 
 ance in indicating the literature which I ought to 
 study — in recommending me masters who will in- 
 struct me — and in devoting an occasional hour to 
 conversation with the humble gipsy, so that from 
 your own exquisite refinement I may catch some 
 beams of that civilization into the sphere of which 
 I am so anxious to enter." 
 
 It was with mingled wonder and interest that I 
 listened to this strange speech ; and I could not 
 help admiring the lofty purpose that the gipsy had 
 in view. I therefore readily promised to afford the 
 assistance which she required ; and I at once drew 
 up a list of works which I considered would be 
 best adapted for her perusal and study. In respect 
 to masters, I gave her the requisite suggestions 
 for obtaining the assistance of such preceptors in 
 the neighbourhood where she was residing ; and I 
 assured her that I would from time to time call 
 upon her, to watch the progress of her studies, 
 and afford her such further hints as might be re- 
 quisite for the accomplishment of her design. 
 
 " Before we part," said Zarah, who had thanked 
 me cordially for the readiness with which I 
 seconded her views, " let me speak another word 
 in reference to St. Clair. I should be wrong to 
 throw you off your guard by expressing the opi- 
 nion that, after so many failures, it is scarcely 
 probable he will again enter upon plots or in- 
 trigues to make you his victim : but all that I can 
 do is to recommend an exceeding caution — and I 
 would especially bid you beware of Lady Lilla 
 Essendine." 
 
 " Rest assured, Zarah," I answered, " that I 
 shall continue more than ever on my guard."
 
 EllBS PEHCY; OE, THB MEMOIBS OP AN ACTEE38. 
 
 197 
 
 She then took her departure .; and when she was 
 gone, I reflected upon nil that had tiken placa be- 
 tween us. "While riding home to Hunter Street, 
 I resolved upon carrying into effect the very idea 
 which I had merely adopted as an artifice and as 
 a tale to frighten St. Clair at the farm-house. Ac- 
 cordingly, on the following day, immediately after 
 breakfast, I committed to paper everything that I 
 knew or suspected in reference to St. Glair and 
 Lady Lilla Essendine ; and this statement, together 
 with the fragment of the letter, I enclosed in an 
 envelope, which I carefully sealed. But when my 
 task was thus far accomplished, I knew not to 
 whom to entrust the packet, with the requisite in- 
 structions for making use of it in case of neces- 
 sity. Mr. I^orman was indeed the only friend to 
 whose hands such a duty could with propriety be 
 assigned ; and if I were to speak to him on the 
 subject, it would necessitate explanations to ac- 
 count in some way or another for a request that 
 would otherwise appear most singular. And then, 
 too, I remembered that the adoption of such a 
 course would be to a certain extent a violation of 
 the pledge of implicit secrecy that I had given to 
 Zarah ; while the very result itself, in case of the 
 extreme emergency, would be seriously compro- 
 mising both the gipsy and her grandmother. Be- 
 wildered therefore how to act, I locked up the 
 packet in my desk, determining to reflect more 
 seriously on the matter before taking any decisive 
 step— and at all events to consult Zarah in the 
 first instance. 
 
 In the afternoon I proceeded to visit the Mar- 
 chioness of Campanella ; and I found — as I had 
 only too sadly expected— that she was utterly 
 without tidings of Beatrice. The advertisements 
 had appeared in the newspapers of that same day 
 only ; and thus there was no time as yet to judge 
 whether they were likely to produce any efiect. 
 The Marchioness was in exceeding low spirits; for 
 she was fondly attached to her sister Beatrice, and 
 she was filled with apprehensions lest the unhappy 
 young lady should in her despair have put a period 
 to her existence. I was introduced to the Mar- 
 quis of Campanella — a fine, tall, handsome man, 
 of distinguished appearance. He treated me with 
 the utmost courtesy, and expressed his gratitude 
 for my kindness towards his unhappy sister-in- 
 law. 
 
 " There was one little incident," I said in the 
 course of conversation, " which I omitted to men- 
 tion to your ladyship when we previously spoke 
 together upon the circumstances of her in whom 
 we are all interested." 
 
 I then proceeded to explain how Beatrice had 
 suddenly encountered that cloaked individual, of 
 whose features I had obtained so imperfect a 
 glimpse by the gas-light near the private entrance 
 to the theatre. 
 
 " It must have been the Count himself!" ejacu- 
 lated both the Marquis and Marchioness of Cam- 
 panella, as if speaking in the same breath. 
 
 " And yet," added the Marquis, " I was utterly 
 ignorant that the Count of Carboni was in 
 London !" 
 
 " The ejaculations which burst from the lips of 
 Beatrice and of that cloaked individual," I pro- 
 ceeded to remark, " were in the English lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " They habitually epoke English," replied the 
 
 Marchioness ; " for I think I told you, my dear 
 Mi-ss Trafford, that the Count of Carboni bad 
 dwelt some time in England; and he speaks your 
 native language with the samn fluency as his own. 
 Yes — from all you have told us, that person- 
 age could have been none other than the bus- 
 band of Beatrice! His age is about forty; his 
 complexion is dark, even to swarthiness ; his eyes 
 are brilliant, flashing with a peculiar light, and 
 with an expression that some may deem sinister." 
 
 "Then, my lady," I responded, "that indi. 
 vidual whom your sister Beatrice encountered, 
 could have been none other than her husband." 
 
 "He must know that we are in London," ob- 
 served the Marquis of Campanella ; " and why 
 should he thus avoid us ? Perhaps it is that he 
 fears lest all his harrowed feelini^s should be ex- 
 cited in their intensity, by encountering the sister 
 of the wife of whom he was so proud, and whose 
 frailty he has had to deplore ?" 
 
 " Or perhaps," I added, " he is indeed conscioua 
 of wrongs towards Beatrice — those wrongs to 
 which she alluded in such terrible terms, but of 
 which you yourselves have hitherto remained in 
 ignorance ? After all there may be more exte« 
 nuation for the unhappy Beatrice than you, my 
 lord — or yourself, my lady, have suspected ?" 
 
 The Marquis of Campanella only shook his head 
 gloomily: but the Marchioness ejaculated with 
 fervour, " Heaven grant that it may prove so !" 
 
 I now took my leave ; and having an hour or 
 two of leisure, I thought I would call upon Zarah, 
 to inquire her sentiments with regard to the plan 
 I was wishful to adopt in respect to the sealed 
 packet. She had hired apartments in a re- 
 spectable street in the neighbourhood of the Lon- 
 don University, and therefore at no great distance 
 from Hunter Street. I found her seated in a 
 well-furnished parlour, at a table covered with 
 volumes which she had lost no time in procuring 
 according to the list I had given her on the pre- 
 ceding evening. She did not so soon expect a visit 
 from me, and my presence therefore afibrded her 
 all the more pleasure. She was apparelled in a 
 morning deshabillee, which, though plain, was of 
 a neatness that in itself constituted elegance. It 
 set off her fine person to the utmost advantage : 
 her hair, of ebony blackness, and which had no 
 natural curl, fell in heavy masses upon her 
 shoulders ; and now that she had thrown off the 
 gipsy garb and appeared as a lady in a well- 
 appointed room, she m'.jht be taken for a woman 
 of Italian or Spanish origin, — unless indeed, a 
 careful and experienced observer should have 
 noticed in the eyes that peculiar lustre — wild and 
 vivid in its brightness — which is so strong a cha- 
 racteristic of the Zingari race. 
 
 I spoke to her of her studies, and gave her a 
 variety of useful suggestions. I found that she 
 had succeeded in obtaining the services of a master 
 to instruct her in those elements of education of 
 which she only had an imperfect knowledge ; and 
 she had likewise engaged a professor of music. 
 She had thus lost no time in entering upon the new 
 course which she had resolved to adopt. She 
 spoke with hope and enthusiasm : she was full of 
 confidence in respect to the issue of her endeavour 
 to acquire the polish, the gloss, and the refinement, 
 nut merely of civilized life, but also of genteel 
 society.
 
 idd 
 
 BtLBir FSROT; OB, THB MSM0IB3 OF AS AOTBESS. 
 
 When I had sat with her for some time, I 
 toucberl upon the principal object of my present 
 yisit. But as I went on to explain what I had 
 already done in respect to the sealed packet— the 
 manner in which I was anxious to dispose of it — 
 and the guarantee that I should thereby establish 
 for my future safety, or at least for the punish- 
 ment of those who might proceed to extremes 
 against me — a cloud gradually came over Zarah's 
 countenance, and I saw that she grew more and 
 more distressed. 
 
 " I cannot wonder. Miss Percy," she said, " that 
 you should take these precautions after everything 
 that has occurred. It is natural ! — it is indeed 
 only too consistent with ordinary prudence ! But 
 on the other hand, you cannot fail to perceive that 
 you are adopting a course which may prove most 
 dangerous— nay, most fatal to my aged relative 
 and to myself. You have penned a statement 
 which, if perused by any friend to whom you may 
 entrust it, would have the effect of handing Edwin 
 St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine to the grasp of 
 justice : at the same time the strong arm of the 
 law would be extended to clutch my grandmother 
 and myself." — — 
 
 " Alas ! this is but too true, Zarah," I inter- 
 rupted her ; " and for these reasons I have hesi- 
 tated to consign that packet to the care of any in- 
 dividual. I will do nothing that shall compromise 
 you. I will sooner incur any risk or run any 
 danger !" 
 
 " Stop !" ejaculated Zarah : " there are precau- 
 tions which can be taken, and which shall be 
 adopted ! I spoke to you of a young girl of our 
 tribe who is now in attendance upon my old re- 
 lative. Yes — Bed a shall be enlisted in our in- 
 terests ! I wonder that I thought not of this 
 before ! They are still in London ; and I will see 
 Beda to-night. Eest assured, Miss Percy, that I 
 will take measures for your safety under any cir- 
 cumstances,— measures indeed which in case of 
 emergency shall be far more effective than any 
 that could result from the plan which you had pro- 
 posed to adopt. Should St. Clair or Lady Lilla 
 Essendine renew their evil machinations against 
 you— should they succeed in again ensnaring you 
 in their toils — within the same hour from Beda's 
 lips shall I learn the calamity. Then fear not for 
 the result ! As I liave succoured and saved you 
 before, so will I succour and save you again. Are 
 you satisfied with this promise?— can you rely 
 upon my pledge ?" 
 
 "I am satisfied, and I am full of reliance," was 
 my response. " The packet shall be consigned to 
 the hands of no one ; nor will I do anything that 
 shall compromise your aged relative or yourself." 
 
 Zarah expressed her gratitude for the decision 
 to which 1 thus came; and I took my leave of her, 
 with the promise to renew my visit shortly. 
 
 As I was descending the stiiirs I heard footsteps 
 coming down the flight above ; and as the indi- 
 vidual proceeded more quickly than myself, he 
 overtook me in the passage leading to the front 
 door. With true foreign politeness, he lifted his 
 hat, and moved past in order to upen the door to 
 give me egress. I was at once struck by his ap- 
 aparance. The first glance impressed me with tbe 
 idea that he was the same person whom Beatrice 
 had so suddenly and so unexpectedly encountered 
 near the private entrance to the theatre. Tbe se- 
 
 cond look which I threw upon him established 
 this conviction in my mind ; and he fully answered 
 to the description which the Marchioness of Cam< 
 panella had given me of the Count of Carboni. I 
 did not however suffer him to perceive that his 
 appearance had produced any extraordinary effect 
 upon me : nor did he seem to know who I was. I 
 slightly inclined my head in acknowledgment of 
 his civility in opening the door to let me pass out ; 
 and I continued my way along the street. But on 
 reaching the end, I looked back ; and not per- 
 ceiving the foreigner, I retraced my way to the 
 house. Ascending to Zarah's sitting-room, I said 
 to her, " Something has just occurred in which I 
 think you can assist me. Do you know who lodges 
 in this house besides yourself ?" 
 
 " There is a foreign gentleman," replied Zarah: 
 " but I do not know his name. He is an Italian, 
 I believe, from something which the landlady told 
 me ; and he has a valet. He is reputed to be rich, 
 but exceedingly eccentric." 
 
 " In what manner is be eccentric ?" I inquired. 
 
 "His bed-room is over this apartment," con- 
 tinued Zarah: "his sitting-rooms are on the 
 ground-floor. I thus have him at times under- 
 neath and overhead. During the day-time he 
 paces to and fro in his parlour : I can distinctly 
 hear the measured monotony of his steps. I have 
 as yet only slept one night in the house : but cer- 
 tainly I am not exaggerating when I declare that 
 for three or four hours he did nothing but walk to 
 and fro in his chamber, as he had done during the 
 day-time in his parlour. Many persons would ob- 
 ject to this ; but to me," added Zarah, with a 
 smile, "it is a matter of the most perfect indiffer- 
 ence. He not only paces to and fro in this restless 
 manner — but he talks to himself: he gives vent to 
 sudden and passionate ejaculations ; there is either 
 something very bad upon his conscience, or else 
 he has sustained some terrible calamity." 
 
 " I have particular reasons, Zarah," I said, " for 
 wishing to know as much as possible about this 
 individual. Ascertain his name, if you can — 
 although I think that I am already acquainted 
 with it. Do not ask me any questions now : I 
 may perhaps tell you more another time." 
 
 " Eest assured. Miss Percy," responded Zarah, 
 " that I will endeavour to ascertain all I can glean 
 in reference to this personage: — and with regard 
 to your motives, you need not apologize for with- 
 holding them. I know they must ba good ones ; 
 and I have no undue curiosity upon the point." 
 
 I now again took my leave of Zarah, and re- 
 turned to Hunter Street, — resolving to say no- 
 thing to the Marquis and Marchioness of Cam- 
 panella in respect to the incident which kad just 
 occurred, until I should have acquired a still more 
 positive certainty that tbe foreign gentleman was 
 indeed the Count of Carboni. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 IHE PEABFUl PICI0EB. 
 
 Is the evening of the following day, I appeared in 
 tbe character of Portia, in "Tbe Merchant of 
 Venice." It was in that scene, where I had to 
 enact the part of an advocate, — that while glancing
 
 EUEIf PEECT; OH, THE MEM0IH8 OP AH ACTEESS 
 
 199 
 
 towards the audience, I cau^bt a glimpse of a 
 countenance which made me look more attentively 
 ii 'he same direction , and there, sure enough, in 
 a si ie-hox sat the individual whom I considered to 
 bo tiie Count of Carboni. He was dressed in deep 
 black, and appeared to be watching with the 
 deepest interest the progress of the drama. The 
 Marquis and Marchioness of Campanella were not 
 present on this occasion : her ladyship had written 
 me a note in the course of the day, to the effect 
 that she was too much depressed in spirits on ac 
 count of her sister Beatrice, to be enabled to wit- 
 ness my performance of the heroine's character in 
 " The Merchant of Venice." 
 
 I glanced several times towards the foreign 
 gentleman — yet not in a manner which could lead 
 him to imagine that I thus specially noticed his 
 presence. On each occasion I saw that his atten- 
 tion was riveted upon me ; and I felt tolerably 
 well assured he must have recognised me as the 
 one to whom his little act of politeness was shown 
 on the preceding day. I enacted the part of 
 Portia with complete success; and another brilliant 
 triumph was achieved. 
 
 On the following day, at about noon, I renewed 
 my visit to Zarah's abode. Just as I reached the 
 front-door, it opene 1 ; and a young girl of exceed- 
 ing beauty came forth. She was not more than 
 fourteen or fifteen years of age — of moderate sta- 
 ture — but with a figure of the most perfect sym- 
 metry. It was slender, yet just beginning to take 
 the developments of that period when girlhood is 
 expanding towards womanhood. She was plainly 
 dressed in a dark stuff frock, a neat shawl, and a 
 straw bonnet, which enframed a countenance of 
 surpassing loveliness. Her hair was of ebon black- 
 ness, without gloss, and neither curling nor wavy, 
 so far as I could judge: but it was arranged in 
 bands that were perfectly smooth ; and it was 
 braided in two long tresses, falling from behind the 
 back of the bonnet. Her complexion was a clear 
 transparent olive, with a rich carnation hue upon 
 the cheeks. Her nose was perfectly straight, and 
 joining the forehead in the style of the Grecian 
 profile. Her lips were of pouting fulness— rich, 
 but not coarse : on the contrary, they were most 
 beautifully formed ; and being slightly apart at 
 the moment I thus encountered her, they revealed 
 teeth of pearly whiteness. Her eyes were large 
 and dark ; and as their look rested upon my coun- 
 tenance, methought that there was a strange 
 witchery in them — not exactly the peculiar wild 
 lustre which I have already spoken of in respect ^o 
 Zarah's eyes — but a weird mystic light hovering in 
 their unfathomable depths. They were superb 
 eloquent eyes ; and yet they bewildered the be- 
 holder to conceive what they were thus eloquent of. 
 They seemed to speak — yet leaving' one as much 
 in doubt as if listening to a strange language 
 poured forth in the rich silver tones of a melodious 
 voice. Yet, altogether, there was something inde- 
 scribably interesting — I might even say ravishing 
 and captivating — in the whole appearance of this 
 young creature. Tha graceful slenderness of her 
 shape — the dress just defining the nascent contours 
 of the bust — the uprightness of her form — the ease 
 of her movements — the symmetrical perfection of 
 the feet and ankles, which the somewhat short 
 skirt revealed— the elastic lightness of her steps, 
 which aeetned akin to the girlish buoyancy of her 
 
 spirits — and then the exquisite beauty of that oviil 
 countenance, with its pure olive complexion, its 
 rich red lips, its d"licately rounded chin, and the 
 large mystical eloquent eyes, — all combined to 
 render this young creature an object o? no ordi- 
 nary interest the moment my looks settled upon 
 her. 
 
 As she opened the door, she stood back with a 
 certain air of respect — which notwithstanding had 
 something free, careless, and spirited in it to 
 suffer me to pass into the house before she passed 
 out. I could not help lingering to gaze upon her; 
 and for a few moments she gazed upon me in re- 
 turn, with her splendid dark eyes, as if she were 
 wondering who I was, and as if the interest which 
 I felt in her was more or less reciprocated. Tuen 
 she smiled, — her parting lips affording a still better 
 view of the brilliancy and purity of her small 
 pearl like teeth ; — and gliding away, she sped along 
 the street. I followed her with my eyes; I could 
 not help thus looking after her, even at the risk 
 of being noticed, and perhaps thought rude or im- 
 pertinently curious, should she happen to turn and 
 look back. But she did not; and she went gliding 
 along with a rapid, airy, sylphid movement, —Uar 
 shapely feet, arching like those of the accomplished 
 danseuse, her high well-formed insteps, and the 
 rounded ankles, exhibiting all the perfection of 
 symmetry and contour that may be recognised in 
 the best sculptured efS^ies. At length she disap- 
 peared from my vie»v round the corner of the 
 street ; and for a moment I experienced a feeling 
 that savoured of vexation that I had not spoken to 
 her : for, as I have already said, she was one of 
 those rare beings— singular, strange, and striking 
 in their own perculiar beauty — on whom it is im- 
 possible to look without at once being inspired 
 with an extraordinary degree of interest. 
 
 And now, as I entered the house and closed the 
 door behind me, the suspicion flashed to my mind 
 that the young creature might be one of whom 
 I had heard before. I really felt anxious to 
 have the idea verified — or, I should say, to have 
 my uncertainty cleared up; because in my own 
 heart I sincerely wished for her sake that my sus- 
 picion should prove unfounded. On entering 
 Zarah's room, I found her seated at the table, oc- 
 cupied with her bojks; but at once rising up, she 
 welcomed me warmly. 
 
 " Had you come but a few minutes earlier. Miss 
 Percy," said Zarah, " you would have met one 
 who is already deeply interested in you." 
 
 " Ah ! Be la ?" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes— Beda," responded Zarah. "Perhaps 
 you saw her ?" 
 
 " Yes — I saw her," I rejoined : and I could 
 not help heaving a profound sigh on finding that 
 the suspicion which had flashed to my mind was 
 now completely fulfilled. 
 
 " Are you unwell, Miss Percy ?" inquired Zarah 
 with an air of concern : " or has anything hap- 
 pened to affect your spirits ?" 
 
 " And that is Beda ?" I said, thus giving audible 
 utterance to my musings : — " Beda, the most per- 
 fect specimen of girlish beauty that I ever beheld 
 in my life ! — Beda, a young creature whom one 
 could love as a sister and watch with the most 
 jealous vigilance over her welfare !" 
 
 " You have become interested in her ?" said 
 Zarah. "Ah I I understand ! You pity her :
 
 200 
 
 ELLGir FBBCT; OB, THE UEMOIBS OF XV ACTRESS. 
 
 jou believe that under my grandmother's care she 
 will not have the best example, nor be kept aloof 
 from the scenes of temptation and of vice? You 
 imagine that she will be tutored in all kinds of 
 duplicities and deceits, so that her youthful mind 
 will become prepared for the complete abandon- 
 ment and depravity of a mature womanhood P" 
 
 " All this I fear, Zarah," was my seriously 
 uttered response; "and it fills my mind with 
 affliction to think that a being who might be ren- 
 dered one of the world's brightest ornaments, may 
 only add another name to the long catalogue of 
 feminine ruin and profligacy." 
 
 Zarah reflected profoundly for some moments ; 
 and then she said, " Yes — it is indeed all but too 
 true. Until this day I had not seen Beda since 
 she was a mere child ; and I confess I was as- 
 tonished at her exceeding beauty. She could not 
 come to me the night before last : but she came 
 to me just now — and I have given her full in- 
 structions according to the promise which I made 
 you. I spoke to her of you in such terms as to 
 inspire her with a vivid interest on your behalf ; 
 and I am convinced that Beda is to be trusted. 
 She promised faithfully to execute my bidding in 
 every respect." 
 
 " Tell me more about this Beda," I said. " You 
 have already given me to understand that she be- 
 longs to the gipsy tribe." 
 
 " She is an orphan," observed Zarah, " as I my- 
 self am. Her parents belonged to what I may term 
 the higher order of our race. They travelled in a 
 caravan of their own, and had two horses. They 
 both died of the fever a few years ago, — since 
 which time Beda has lived with an old female rela- 
 tive, who settled in a hut in the neighbourhood of 
 Tottenham. My grandmother happened to learn 
 that Beda was not very happy with the old crone ; 
 and she therefore had no difficulty in inducing her 
 to come and live henceforth under her protection. 
 And now you know all. Miss Percy, that I have it 
 in my power to tell with regard to the young 
 creature who has so much excited your interest." 
 
 " It is not therefore too late," I exclaimed, " to 
 rescue Beda from a mode of existence which can- 
 not be profitable to her ?" 
 
 "What do you mean, Miss Percy?" asked 
 Zarah. " You have evidently some project in your 
 mind ?" 
 
 " When does your grandmother leave London ?" 
 I suddenly demanded. 
 
 " Not for some days to come," rejoined Zarah. 
 " She is unwell : she and Beda are living alone to- 
 gether at the old farm-house which Edwin St. 
 Clair temporarily hired as a most convenient place 
 for carrying out his designs in respect to your- 
 self." 
 
 " And do you think," I inquired, still with hasty 
 utterance, " that if it were told to Beda that there 
 was a lady who would take her into her service — 
 treat her kindly — give her the means of an edu- 
 cation which perhaps has been hitherto only too 
 much neglected " 
 
 "And you would do this. Miss Percy?" ex- 
 claimed Zarah, in mingled astonishment and admi- 
 ration. 
 
 "Yes — I would do this!" I emphatically re- 
 plied. " Oh, yes ! I should be rejoiced to snatch 
 that beautiful flower from the midst of the blight- 
 ing atmosphere which it now inhales 1" 
 
 " It can be done — doubtless it can be done !" 
 said Zarah, in a musing strain. " I can tell my 
 grandmother that I require Beda as an attendant 
 for myself — I will represent to her that so young 
 a creature is unfit to be near her when epilepsy 
 strikes her down in a word, Miss Percy, you 
 shall see Beda here to-morrow ; and if having 
 conversed with her you remain in the same mind, 
 and she herself is agreeable, I will undertake that 
 my grandmother shall consent to part from her." 
 
 " Be it as you say, Zarah. At this same hour 
 to-morrow I will be here. And now tell me, have 
 you succeeded in discovering any additional infor- 
 mation in respect to the foreign gentleman ?" 
 
 " Yes— some few particulars," answered Zarah. 
 " Yesterday afternoon I seized an opportunity, 
 when he bimself was out — his valet was likewise 
 absent — the old landlady was having her usual nap 
 after dinner, and the housemaid was engaged in 
 the bed-rooms, — I seized that opportunity, I say, 
 to glide into the parlour occupied by the foreign 
 gentleman. On the mantel-piece I dbcovered a 
 card-case — I took one of the cards — here it is — you 
 can see the name that is upon it." 
 
 Yes — it was the name of the Count of Carboni I 
 
 " But, as I learnt from the housemaid," con- 
 tinued Zarah, " this is not the name by which he 
 is known at these lodgings. It must however be 
 his real name, as it is on his card; and it was 
 most probably by accident that he left the card- 
 case itself l>'ing about. I have still some more 
 particulars to tell you. The housemaid informed 
 me that in a large portfolio in his bed-room — 
 amongst several prints and water-colour drawings, 
 all beautifully executed, there is one, of the latter 
 description, which the girl has looked upon with 
 feelings of alarm and horror. She told me how 
 she came to pay particular attention to it. She 
 one day entered the bed-room, not thinking that 
 the foreigner was there, — when she beheld hica 
 standing, as she thought, before the looking-glass : 
 but a second glance showed her, as she paused an 
 instant to apologize for her intrusion, that he was 
 contemplating a picture which he had placed 
 against that glass— in order, no doubt, that it 
 might stand there conveniently for his inspection. 
 He did not immediately perceive the girl; but 
 when she spoke, he abruptly turned round and 
 bent upon her a look so strange and haggard that 
 she was frightened. When next she was in that 
 bed.room — alone there — and with the certainty 
 that the gentleman was not in the house — she felt 
 an irresistible curiosity to look into the contents of 
 the portfolio, — a curiosity which she had not pre- 
 viously experienced, and which arose from the idea 
 that it was the subject of some picture which had 
 produced such an effect upon the foreign gentle- 
 man as he contemplated it." 
 
 " And what followed ?" I inquired. 
 
 " The maid unfastened the strings of the port- 
 folio," continued Zarah ; " and she looked over its 
 contents. As she said to me while telling me this 
 story, she did not see any particular harm in look- 
 ing at a few pictures : it was not the same as if 
 she were violating the sanctity of anything kept 
 under lock and key. Amongst the water-colour 
 drawings, was the one the subject of which in- 
 spired her with so much dismay and horror. She 
 described it to me minutely ; and I carefully trea- 
 sured up everything she said."
 
 ELIBN PBECT; OH, THE MEHOIEa O? AN ACTEESS. 
 
 201 
 
 LADY LII.LA ESSENDINjE. 
 
 " And the subject of that picture ?" I asked, 
 with growing interest ia the tale to which I was 
 thus listening. 
 
 " The scene represents a splendidly furnished 
 apartment," proceeded Ztrah : " but in the midst 
 of it, where a chandelier ought to hang, a human 
 form is suspended by the neck. It is apparently 
 that of a handsome young man, with dark 
 whiskers and moustache. Upon her knees — gazing 
 up at the corpse, and in a position which vividly 
 expresses the most frightful anguish — is a young 
 and beautiful woman, richly dressed. leaning 
 with his back against the door, with arms folded 
 across his chest, there is a tall man : but the 
 shading of the picture is so contrived that the 
 countenance of this last-mentioned individual is 
 thrown into complete gloom by the brim of the hat 
 which ie is represented as wearing : so that his 
 countenance can only be dimly discerned. Such is 
 No. 26.— Ellkh Pesct. 
 
 the subject of the picture ; and the maid describes 
 it as one the execution of which is so ndinirable, 
 even in the horror of its mysteries, as to produce 
 an effect almost as potent as that which would bo 
 experienced if gazing upon the awful reality itself. 
 Should you like to see this picture. Miss Percy ? 
 The gentleman himself is out — the maid is good- 
 naturrdand obliging — she has taken a great liking 
 towards me " 
 
 "'No, no!" I answered, "That which is dono 
 cannot be recalled : but I must not sanction the 
 renewed violation of the sanctity of that gentle- 
 man's effects. Nevertheless, Zarah, I thank you 
 sincerely for the information which you have pro- 
 cured." 
 
 " You seem very pale— you are ill, my dear Mi88 
 Percy ?" exclaimed Zarah. " Let me give you a 
 glass of water ?" 
 
 "Yes— a glass of water," I replied; for I dii
 
 303 
 
 ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AW ACTEESS. 
 
 indeed feel faint,, as I bad something more than a 
 merely dim and obscure idea of the awful, the 
 frightful significaucy of that picture. 
 
 Zarab gave me the water, from imbibing which 
 I experienced refreshment and relief; and I said, 
 " Do not question me on the subjects whereof we 
 hare been conversing. A secret is involved which, 
 as you may well imagine, is not mine own. Per- 
 haps the day may come, as I have already informed 
 you, when I shall be enabled to give explana- 
 tions." 
 
 Zarah again assured me that she had no imper- 
 tinent curiosity ; and I took my departure, pro- 
 mising to return on the morrow, when I should 
 expect to find Beda there. 
 
 On issuing from the house, I resolved to repair 
 straight to Mivart's Hotel and inform the Marquis 
 and Marchioness of Campanella of all that I had 
 heard. I was proceeding along the street in search 
 of a cab, when a woman passed me ; and as she 
 looked at me significantly, I thought that her 
 coarse bloated features were not altogether un- 
 familiar to my recollection. I turned to fling 
 another glance at her : she had stopped and was 
 gazing after me ; and suddenly retracing her steps 
 towards me, she said, " Surely you must be the 
 young lady who called once or twice at my 
 
 house " 
 
 " Ah, I remember !" was the ejaculation which 
 now burst from my lips : for this was the woman 
 who kept the small chandler's shop in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Clare Market, where the unfortunate 
 Beatrice di Carboni had occupied a mean and 
 humble lodging. 
 
 "Have you found that young person since?" 
 inquired the woman. 
 
 "No! — and I am searching for her!" was my 
 quick response. " Have you seen her — have you 
 
 found any trace " 
 
 " I think I might discover where she is. Miss," 
 answered the woman. 
 
 " Oh ! if you could," I exclaimed, enthusiastic 
 with a sudden joy, " you know not how grateful I 
 should be !— and most liberally should you be re- 
 warded ! Tell me what clue you have " 
 
 " It can't be all done in a moment, Miss," in- 
 terrupted the woman. "Just tell me what recom- 
 pense I may expect for my trouble ; and in the 
 course of a few hours you shall perhaps know 
 something." 
 
 Though disgusted with the woman's mercenary 
 character, I did not choose to betray the sentiment 
 which thus inspired me; and veiling that loathing, 
 I said, " Name your own terms, and they shall be 
 complied with." 
 
 "Well, Miss," continued the woman, in whose 
 eyes the greedy love of gold was expressed, " if 
 you wouldn't think a five-pcund note too much, I 
 
 don't mind taking the trouble " 
 
 " Too much ? — no !" I exclaimed, wondering 
 that she did not ask ten times the amount : for in 
 the excitement of my feelings I forgot that she 
 could have no idea of the importance that it was 
 to find Beatrice, and of how many hearts were in- 
 terested in her. " You shall have the money ; 
 and here is an earnest of my liberality," I added, 
 placing a couple of sovereigns in her hands. " But 
 
 tell me what clue you possess " 
 
 " Don't ask me any more questions now, Miss," 
 interrupted the woman. "Leave mo to manage 
 
 the business after my own way. Where could I 
 see you again in a couple or three hours ?" 
 
 " Wherever you may choose to appoint," I re- 
 plied. " Name a spot in the neighbourhood where 
 you think that you will be enabled to conduct me 
 to that young lady." 
 
 The woman reflected for a few moments; and 
 then she said, " Would you mind. Miss, meeting 
 me in front of Whitechapel Church in about 
 two hours from this time ?" 
 
 " I will meet you there," I answered : but as a 
 sudden thought flashed to my brain, bidding me 
 be upon ray guard against even the remotest pos- 
 sible chance of treachery, I added, " You have no 
 objection that I should be accompanied by a friend 
 or two — a gentleman and a lady who are as anx- 
 ious as myself to find that poor fugitive creature ?" 
 "You may come with a dozen friends if you 
 like. Miss," answered the woman: "it isn't of 
 the slightest matter to me : there is a bargain be- 
 tween us — and I dare say that on my side I shall 
 be able to fulfil it." 
 
 " Hasten then quick," I cried, " and execute 
 whatever plan you have in view ! Rely upon my 
 punctuality in keeping the appointment which you 
 have given." 
 
 We now separated ; and I had no doubt as to 
 the sincerity of the woman, though I saw that in 
 her mercenary avarice she had resolved to derive 
 a good pecuniary advantage from the information 
 that she might be enabled to give. I speedily 
 found a cab, and repaired to Mivart's Hotel. 
 There I found the Marquis and Marchioness of 
 Campanella just returning from paying a visit to 
 Lady Cecilia Urban ; and I immediately informed 
 them that I had obtained tidings of Beatrice. 
 They were both rejoiced,— the Marchioness espe- 
 cially so ; and I commenced my explanations. I 
 told them that having occasion to visit a young 
 woman residing in a street near the London Fni- 
 versity, I had thereby been led to the discovery of 
 the abode of the Count of Carboni. I narrated 
 all that I had heard in respect to the fearful pic- 
 ture ; and I wound up with a description of my 
 interview with the landlady of the house in the 
 region of Clare Market. 
 
 " And, Oh I" I exclaimed, with a partial renewal 
 of the harrowed feelings I had experienced at 
 Zarah's lodgings ; " is there not a terribly signifi- 
 cant connexion between the subject of that awful 
 picture and the horrible mysterious words used by 
 Beatrice the last time I ever saw her, when she 
 spoke of the living and the dead being compelled 
 to hold companionship until the brain of the former 
 well nigh reeled into madness P" 
 
 "Yes— Oh, yes ! there is a horrible connexion ?" 
 said the Marchioness, with a x'lsible shudder. 
 
 "The Count may have been outraged by the 
 conduct of his wife, as no doubt he was," said the 
 Marquis of Campanella with a sombre lock ,- '* but 
 if indeed that picture has the significancy which 
 our coDJectures now impart to it, the vengeance 
 was too horrible — yes, too horrible even for a dis- 
 honoured husbaad to wreak ! Let us not however 
 give way entirely to surmises : but lot us await the 
 explanations which we shall doubtless receive it we 
 succeed in finding Beatrice. We will accompany 
 you, Miss TrafFord : —we will depart to the place 
 of appointment whenever you give the signal." 
 Tbo Marchioness thanked her husbaud with a
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, XHH MEM0IE8 OP AW ACTEESS. 
 
 20S 
 
 fond look of grateful aflection for the interest bo 
 was now expressing in behalf of her unhappy 
 sister ; and bis lordship said with emphasis, " There 
 are errors and sins which may be expiated by an 
 intensity of suffering, and which may be atoned 
 for by a due amount of penitence. That Beatrice 
 has suffered horribly there can be no doubt ! As 
 for her penitence " 
 
 " And what, my lord," I solemnly interjected, — 
 '•' what if she be altogether innocent ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Trafford," he exclaimed, " I fear that 
 it is your natural goodness of heart which makes 
 you hope for that which is barely possible. But 
 again I say let us not abandon ourselves to sur- 
 mises and speculations, when perhaps the hour is 
 approaching in which we shall receive the fullest 
 explanations." 
 
 At my suggestion a hired vehicle was engaged 
 instead of the Marquis's private carriage ; and we 
 proceeded to Whitechapel. We alighted at some 
 little distance from the church ; and thitherward 
 we repaired on foot. The Marquis and Mar- 
 chioness had never before been in that neighbour- 
 hood, where the business of an active retail com- 
 merce presents so many phases, and is so singularly 
 associated with the evidences of squalor, poverty, 
 dissipation, and vice. A glance thrown into the half- 
 open doors of the numerous public-houses, shows the 
 beholder that nowhere in London are the temples 
 erected to the Idol of Intemperance more fre- 
 quented ; while the same may be said of the pawn- 
 brokers' shops : and nowhere perhaps in the great 
 metropolis may such numbers of rough ill-looking 
 men or dirty slatternly females be seen ; nowhere 
 such crowds of miserable children playing in the 
 gutters and picking remnants of food from amidst 
 the garbage which has been thrown down there. 
 
 We were full a quarter of an hour too soon ; 
 and not choosing to remain stationary in front of 
 the church, we walked about in its immediate 
 neighbourhood. The clock struck three, — which 
 was the appointed time : but the woman made not 
 her appearance. Half an hour passed— and she 
 came not. The Marquis grew impatient — the 
 Marchioness and myself more and more uneasy ; 
 we all three began to apprehend that I had been 
 made the dupe of a cheat. Four o'clock struck : 
 the dusk was beginning to close in, — for the month 
 of February had not yet quite reached its termi- 
 nation ; and there had been a partial fog all the 
 afternoon. The gas was already lighted in several 
 shops ; and its broad jets, unprotected by lamps, 
 were flickering and flaming in front of the array of 
 butchers' stalls along the eastern side of White- 
 chapel. We were beginninjj to think that it was 
 useless to remain any longer, when all of a sudden 
 I beheld the woman approaching. 
 
 " Sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss," she at 
 once said, as she accosted me : " but I have hid 
 such trouble in finding out what I wanted to 
 learn. The fact is, i was down in this neighbour- 
 hood last evening, to pay a visit to a friend, — when 
 in a street hard by I saw that young person— Miss 
 Howard, I think you celled her — gliding rapidly 
 along ; and she was out of sight in a minute. But 
 I felt tolerably sure she was living somewhere in 
 this neighbourhood ; and I was determined to find 
 out." 
 
 " Well, well !" I ejaculated, feverish with im- 
 patience. " Have you succeeded ?" 
 
 " Yes— at last," replied the woman. " I knowed 
 it was of no use inquiring at the gin-shops — k>e- 
 cause she was too steady for that : but I thought 
 that may be she might be heard of at the 'tatur 
 and coal- sheds— or, saving your presence, at the 
 pawnbroker's ■" 
 
 "Enough!" I interrupted the garrulous and 
 unfeeling woman, " If you have found her abode, 
 guide us to it !" 
 
 "Yes, Miss — I have no objection— I can take 
 you there fast enough But there's a little mat- 
 ter, you know " 
 
 " Ah, true !" I exclaimed, now no longer able to 
 conceal my loathing for the wretch's mercenary 
 character; and I put five sovereigns into her 
 hand. 
 
 " Come along !" she said, clutching the gold 
 with avidity. 
 
 We followed her into a maze of streets — or 
 rather lanes, alleys, and courts, constituting a per- 
 fect labyrinth of obscurity, with all the evidences 
 of squalor and poverty nevertheless only too plainly 
 visible : while the atmosphere was offensive and 
 seemed veritably pestilential. 
 
 " Good heavens !" murmured the Marchioness 
 to me, " that my poor siater should have been 
 compelled to take refuge " 
 
 She stopped short : she could say no more : her 
 voice was lost in low convulsive sobbings. 
 
 " Sustain and console yourself, my lady," I said, 
 " with the thought that you will speedily bear 
 your sister to a better and more suitable home." 
 
 The woman, who was guiding us, presently 
 stopped at the door of a house in an alley so nar- 
 row that persons might shake hands across it 
 from the opposite windows. Two or three dirty, 
 half-naked children were playing upon the door- 
 step; and an ill-looking man was leaning against 
 the window-sill, smoking a pipe, and not offering 
 to make way for us. 
 
 "There!" said the woman who had been our 
 guide into the midst of this labyrinth ; " you will 
 find Miss Howard here — though it's of no use ask- 
 ing for her by that name, for the people of the 
 house don't know her by any at all." 
 
 Having thus spoken, she walked away ; and a 
 young sickly-looking female, with a squalid child 
 in her arms, came forth from a room on the 
 ground-floor when I knocked at the door, which 
 stood open. In answer to the queries that I put 
 the woman informed us that she had a lodger cor- 
 responding with the description which I gave ; and 
 thus the apprehensions which I had seriously en- 
 tertained in respect to the good faith of the burly 
 dame of the region of Clare Market, were set at 
 rest. Indeed, there could be no doubt that poor 
 Beatrice was found at last ! 
 
 In pursuance of the directions given by the 
 sickly-looking woman, I conducted the Marquis 
 and Marchioness up a narrow, dark, broken stair- 
 case, to the very highest floor. There we knocked 
 at a door : it was opened ; and by the sickly light 
 of a miserable candle the countenance of Beatrice 
 was recognised. But good heavens ! how altered— 
 oh, how altered by privation, suffering, and dis- 
 tress of every kind ! An ejaculation of surprise 
 more than of joy burst from her lips on beholding 
 me : for she did not immediately perceive her 
 sister and the Marquis, who remained in the ob- 
 i scurity of the landing. But hot ensued a scene
 
 204 
 
 E1I,EN PEBCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 for the description of which I can Bcarcely find 
 words at all competeQt. I had strained Beatrice 
 in my arms— when the Marchioness rushed for- 
 ward, crying, " Oh, my beloved sister ! do we meet 
 ftt lost ?" 
 
 Then, with a wild exclamation, Beatrice threw 
 herself upon the bosom of the Marchioness, and 
 wept passionately. Some minutes elapsed before 
 she understood that the Marquis himself was pre- 
 sent : and then, as if suddenly recalled to a full 
 sense of the position in whicli she stood towards 
 her sister and her brother-in-law, she exclaimed, 
 " I ain innocont — as there is a God above us, I 
 am innocent !" 
 
 " Oh ! heaven be thanked for that assurance !" 
 cried the Marchioness of Campanelln, in accents of 
 thrilling joy. "Doubly welcome to my arms art 
 thou, my beloved sister Beatrice !" 
 
 " My lord," I said, turning to the Marquis, 
 while the tears were raining down my cheeks — 
 and I spoke in a low, tremulous whisper, — " "Was 
 there not truth — truth the sincerest— in that ex. 
 clamation ?" 
 
 " Yes ?" responded the Marquis: " or else human 
 nature is capable of a falseness to an extent that I 
 will not believe. — Beatrice," he added, advancing 
 towards his sister-in-law, " look me in the face — 
 declare again that you are innocent towards your 
 husband — and I will believe you !" 
 
 "Husband of my sister — brother-in-law !" an- 
 swered Beatrice, her eyes lighting up with a sud- 
 den lustre, and a slight glow appearing upon the 
 cheeks that an instant before were so deathly p ile 
 and so haggard, " I swear to you that I am inno- 
 cent !" 
 
 "Then can I embrace you as a sister !" ex- 
 claimed the Marquis : and he folded Beatrice in 
 his arms; while the -Marchioness, seizing my hand 
 and pressing it with fervour, whispered in a voice 
 lull of emotion, " To you, my dearest friend, am I 
 indebted for all this happiness !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 BEATEICK DI CAEBONI. 
 
 The Marchioness alluded, as the reader has full 
 well comprehended, to the discovery of Beatrice 
 and to the bearing of the Marquis towards her : 
 for in every other sense there were only too many 
 causes for the most painful feelings. The altered 
 appearance of Beatrice— the evidences of distress 
 and suffering which her own person betrayed— the 
 miserable aspect of the poverty-stricken garret 
 lyliore the unfortunate creature was thus found — 
 together with the sense of all the unmerited per- 
 secutions, as they were necessarily looked upon 
 now that no doubt was entertained of her inno- 
 cence,— all these were painful and heartrending to 
 a degree. 
 
 But not long was Beatrice now suffered to re- 
 main in that wretched abode : for not even the 
 Marquis himself intimated the necessity of receiv- 
 ing the fullest explanations from her lips before 
 she was removed thence. A vehicle was sent for : 
 we all took our seats in it, and were speedily on 
 our way to Mivart's Hetel. During the journey 
 thither I gave Beatrice to understand that I had 
 
 not wilfully nor intentionally abandoned her on 
 the memorable day when I left her at the hou33 in 
 the neighbourhood of Clare Market ; and the 
 Marchioness of Campanella said, " No, my sweet 
 sister ! — you have no reason to blame Miss Traf- 
 ford ! She has proved herself your best friend ; 
 and to her we are indebted for the happiness which 
 we all now experience !'" 
 
 Beatrice pressed my hand to her lips: but she 
 could not give utterance to a word : her heart was 
 too full for speech from the lips. 
 
 We reached the hotel. Beatrice retired to her 
 sister's own chamber, where such changes of ap- 
 parel were effected as her garments rendered 
 necessary, — though even in the midst of her dire 
 poverty she had retained a neatness of appearance 
 which prevented her from becoming the object of 
 any unpleasant notice when entering the hotel 
 along with the Marquis and Marchioness and 
 myself. Still a more suitable raiment effected 
 considerable improvement in her appearance ; and 
 the serene happiness which was now shed over 
 her countenance veiled as it were much of its 
 careworn look. 
 
 I would have retired, thinking it more seemly 
 to leave Beatrice alone with the relatives to whom 
 she was thus restored : but they all three insisted 
 that I should remain to witness and share that 
 happiness towards which I had been so instru- 
 mental. I was enabled to pass the evening there, 
 as I had no duties to fulfil on the occasion at the 
 theatre. Dinner was served up : but, as the 
 reader may suppose, our hearts were all too full of 
 varied feelings to do justice to it. When the for- 
 mality of passing through the ceremony was over, 
 and the domestics had retired, Beatrice insisted 
 upon telling her tale,— though wo all urged her to 
 postpone it until the morrow, when her mind 
 should be more composed and her thoughts more 
 collected. But she declared it would do her good 
 to make these revelations which lay like a weight 
 upon her heart, and which would corroborate her 
 solemn averment of innocence. We therefore 
 prep'U'ed to listen ; and Beatrice commenced ia 
 the following manner: — 
 
 " I need not say that I loved Angelo Marano, 
 the humble and obscure subaltern ; and that I 
 yielded only to my mother's threats and entreaties 
 in accepting the hand of the Count of Carboni. 
 Oh ! could you wonder then that even without this 
 love of mine for one who was young and fasci- 
 nating, of frank and generous disposition — I 
 should have loathed the idea of being sacrificed to 
 that nobleman who was so much older than my- 
 self, and whose countenance had from the very 
 first impressed me with sinister misgivings in re- 
 spect to the nature of the individual himself? 
 Nevertheless, when my mother had succeeded in 
 winning my assent, I resolved to accept my destiny 
 with a becoming resignation, and to fulfil with pro- 
 priety all the duties of the Count of Carboni's 
 wife. You, my dear sister, can testify that I com- 
 plained but little — that I was even reserved and 
 distant, when on your arrival at Florence to be 
 present at the bridal, you questioned me on all 
 the circumstances in which I was placed. In the 
 enthusiasm of my youthful love for Angelo Ma- 
 rano I had plighted the usuaL vows of lovers: 
 but in one last interview I recalled them — I be- 
 sought him to release me from them. Oh, the
 
 ELLKS PKKCX J OE, THE MEJIOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 205 
 
 aoguish of tliat interview ! — the miugled re- 
 proaches and entreaties, the upbraiding-s and the 
 prayers, the impassioned remonstrauces and pro- 
 testations, with which I was assailed on Angelo's 
 part, and against which I had to battle ! But 
 being the victim of what I conceived to be my 
 duty towards my mother, I performed that duty 
 resolutely ; and Angelo, giving me back my vows, 
 left me. He was broken-hearted : I was fortified 
 with the calmness— or at least the strength which 
 belongs only to despair itself. The marriage took 
 place: I accompanied the Count of Carboni to 
 the altar; and as I had sacrificed all my tenderest 
 and best feelings at the bidding of a mother, I 
 was now prepared to make a similar sacrifice in 
 the performance of my duty towards a husband. 
 I was glad therefore when he bore me to his 
 chateau in the southern part of Tuscany, at a 
 distance from those scenes where I had first met 
 Angelo, and where thcro might be a probability 
 that I should encounter him again." 
 
 Here Beatrice paused; and we all three con- 
 templated her with an illimitable compassion as 
 we thus heard from her own lips the immense 
 cruelty of that sacrifice which she had been com- 
 pelled to make of all the best and tenderest feel- 
 ings of Ler heart. 
 
 " If I had subsequently proved really guilty," 
 continued Beatrice, " rest assured that I should 
 not now be culpable of so mean and base an act as 
 to attempt the extenuation of my own crime by 
 depreciating the disposition and character of my 
 husband. But as I am innocent, and as I wish 
 that the truth only should be told— yet, at the 
 same time, told in its fullest details— I need not 
 hesitate to speak frankly with respect to him to 
 whom my fate was linked. I found him selfish in 
 his disposition, jealous without a cause, and anxious 
 to keep me under his constant supervision— almost 
 a close prisoner within the walls of his chateau. 
 That he loved me to a certain extent, I do not 
 deny : but it was a love after his own fashion — 
 Belfish and egotistical. It was a mere pride and 
 vanity in the possession of a young wife whose 
 personal appearance and whose mental accomplish- 
 ments were not perhaps of a very inferior order. 
 Thus he lavished upon me costly gems and bade 
 me deck myself in the richest raiment : yet if any 
 one of his guests accosted me with a smile or a 
 compliment, a shade would lower upon Carboni's 
 features. When, a few months after my marriage, 
 you and I again met, dear sister, at Plorence, on 
 the occasion of our mother's death, you asked me 
 if I were happy; and I replied in the affirmative. 
 I did not choose to givo utterance to a single syl- 
 lable of complaint : for such complaining would 
 have implied regret for the step that I had taken 
 —and you might have fancied, my dear sister, 
 that I still longingly cherished the image of An- 
 gelo Marano. And besides, apart from those 
 considerations, I was too proud to confess even to 
 a sister that I experienced unhappincss as the re- 
 sult of that very step which I had self-sufficiently 
 proclaimed to be the resigned acceptation of my 
 destiny. Thus, though I spoke falsely to you, it 
 was a. venial offence : it was in the performance of 
 apajtof the duty which I conceived that I oncd 
 to my husband. Yes— I placed as it were flowers 
 upon my lips, when unseen thorns were piercing 
 my heart. But, Oh 1 aa the sunny waters of an 
 
 Indian river conceal the hideous monsters and 
 reptiles which lurk in its dark depths — so, too 
 often in tins world, does the sunshine of smiles 
 upon the countenance hiie the vulture-talons 
 which are tearing at the heart's core." 
 
 " Poor Beatrice !" murmured the Marchioness, 
 wiping the tears from her eyes : while I also was 
 deeply affected — and the Marquis of Campanella 
 dashed his hand athwart his brow. 
 
 "I now come," resumed Beatrice, after a long 
 pause, during which she had some difficulty to 
 conquer her emotions, — " I now come to that 
 memorable date in the month of September of last 
 year,— a date which is impressed upon my brain 
 as if stamped there with a searing iron, and writ, 
 ten upon my heart as if traced in lines of inef- 
 faceable blood ! Oh ! heaven protect all ye three 
 who now listen to me, from the experience of 
 even one tithe of the horrors which I have gono 
 through ! "We have heard of people's hair turn- 
 ing white in a single night — how young men and 
 women have in the course of a few hours assumed 
 all the hoariness of age, when the feelings have 
 been most tensely wrung and the heart has known 
 whole centuries of agony condensed into the space 
 of as many minutes. How my hair should have 
 retained its youthful hue after all I have suffered 
 — how my brain should have kept ils reason after 
 the frightful shocks it has sjstainad— indeed how 
 it is possible that I should be here alive to tell this 
 tale, when I have endured the tortures of cruci- 
 fixion itself — that crucifixion of the soul in com« 
 parison with which all physical agonies sink into 
 insignificance— how all this has happened, I say, 
 heaven itself can alone tell ! Yet it is so. Oh ! 
 pardon this horrible preface. I see that I am har- 
 rowing your own feelings : but it is natural that 
 the reminiscences of the past should give a fright* 
 ful energy to my words !" 
 
 And there was an awful, a terrific, a galvanic 
 power in the language which Beatrice was using. 
 It seemed to strike upon the ear with the din of a 
 thousand storms, and to sweep through the brain 
 with the violence of countless hurricanes. It 
 came pouring over the very heart itself as if with 
 a rushing tide of burning lava ; and I, as well as 
 the other two listeners, sat gazing appalled and 
 horror-stricken at everything that we thus heard. 
 
 "It was in the month of September, as I have 
 said," continued Beatrice, now sj^caking in a 
 gentler tone, " and on one ot those delicious 
 Italian evenings when there is just a sufficiency 
 of the freshening breeze to subdue the sultriness 
 which a glorious day has left bahind — I was 
 walking with the Count of Cavboni through a 
 grove in the vicinage of the chateau. He was 
 conversing in his wonted egotistical style— of his 
 adventures in foreign lauds— of the prowess with 
 which he, single-handed, had oft defended himself 
 against banditti; and as usual likewise he was ad- 
 dressing me in my own English tongue— thougli, 
 as you are aware, my dear sister, I can speak the 
 Italian language with as much facility as the 
 other. Presently we beheld a domestic approach- 
 ing ; and he bore a letter which he said had just 
 been delivered by a courier, aud which he was de- 
 sired to place without delay in his lord's hand. 
 Tne Count read it, and iniorraed me that its con- 
 tents reported the favourable issue of a lawsuit, in 
 which, as you may recollect, he was engaged at
 
 206 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTEES8. 
 
 the time of our murriage with a neighbouring 
 noblemun in respect to a disputed piece of land. 
 It appeared that the Count was anxious to send 
 back some reply by the courier to his lawyer ; and 
 bidding me await his return in the grove, he 
 hastened into the chateau. I had not been many 
 minutes alone, when there was a rustling amongst 
 the trees — and Angelo Marano stood before me." 
 
 Again Beatrice paused for a brief space ; and 
 then she continued in the following manner : — 
 
 " From the period when we had met in that last 
 agonising interview before my marriage, until the 
 instant when he thus stood before me in the grove, 
 I had never once seen him — had never even heard 
 of him. I was startled with amazement : but 
 quickly recovering my self-possession, I assumed 
 all the dignity of a wife who was performing her 
 duty towards her husband, and who would sooner 
 perish than be beguiled by any revival of her 
 former love for another. Angelo fell at my feet, 
 and implored me to listen to him, I answered 
 that he could have nothing to say to me unto 
 which I could with propriety lend an ear ; and I 
 commanded him to begone. He was about to re- 
 new his entreaties that I would hear him, when I 
 suddenly caught the sound of the opening and 
 shutting of the door in the garden-wall which se- 
 parated the plantation from the grounds in the 
 midst of which the chateau stood. Seized with a 
 mortal terror, I ejaculated 'My husband!' — and 
 the nest instant Angelo Marano rushed amidst the 
 trees. Though his disappearance was accomplished 
 in the twinkling of an eye, yet I knew full well 
 that if my husband had come hurriedly away from 
 that door of communication, he must have inevita- 
 bly caught a glimpse of Angelo at my feet. I 
 therefore felt full of a suspense which had in it all 
 the excruciations of a real guilt : for I knew that the 
 Count's jealous disposition would lead him to put 
 the very worst construction upon the incident de- 
 spite all I might urge to the contrary. Infinite 
 therefore was my relief when he accosted me with- 
 out any change of mood — at least so far as I could 
 actually discern: on the contrary, it even appeared 
 as if it were with a species of tenderness that he 
 gave me to understand there was a necessity for his 
 undertaking an immediate journey in consequence 
 of that lawsuit which he had gained. He informed 
 me that there was a postscript to the letter from 
 his man-of-business, which he had not at first read,- 
 and that it was on account thereof he must thus 
 absent himself for a day or two. I was in an in- 
 stant struck with all the inconvenience of this oc- 
 currence happening at the very moment when An- 
 gelo Marano had so imprudently appeared in the 
 neighbourhood ; and it was natural that my coun- 
 tenance should to a certain degree reflect the un- 
 easy thoughts that had arisen within me. But I 
 flattered myself that the Count had failed to ob- 
 serve any peculiarity in my looks : he seemed in a 
 hurry to depart : his carriage was soon in readi- 
 ness; and he set off. I remained in the chateau 
 after I had seen him depart : for though the dark 
 had not yet closed in, yet I would not so much as 
 venture into the garden, much less return to the 
 grove, with the knowledge that Angelo Marano 
 was in the neighbourhood, and with the chance of 
 agfiin encountering him." 
 
 iieatriee spoke with an irresistible sincerity of 
 tone and manner ; and it was easy to perceive 
 
 that the Marquis of Campanella put the most im- 
 plicit faith in all she was saying. I need scarcely 
 add that the Marchioness and I had believed in 
 her innocence even before the nobleman himself 
 was convinced when he had so solemnly adjured 
 her at her miserable lodging. 
 
 " I was seated alone in the drawing-room at the 
 chateau," continued Beatrice, " about a couple of 
 hours after my husband had taken his departure, 
 when one of the male domestics — Luigi by name — 
 brought me in a note. The address did not strike 
 me as being in a feigned hand : nor had I at the 
 instant a suspicion of whose writing it was. It did 
 however prove to be disguised : for when I opened 
 the billet the writing inside was different from that 
 of the address:— it was the natural fluent penman- 
 ship of its author : for the note came from Angelo 
 Marano ! I read but the first half-dozen words : 
 I then indignantly tore it up; and applying a 
 fragment to the flame of the lamp, burnt all the 
 pieces in the grate. I then perceived that Luigi 
 had remained standing near the door ; and I de- 
 manded of him why he lingered ? He stammered, 
 and at length intimated his expectation that there 
 might have been some response which I would 
 have wished him to convey. It instantaneously 
 struck me that Angelo had bribed the man to play 
 the part of a go-between ; and boiling with indig- 
 nation, I asked from whom he had received the 
 note? He replied from Signer Marano— adding 
 that if I chose to trust him, he should not be found 
 faithless in respect to any mission confided to him. 
 Enraged at the man's impertinence, I ordered him 
 from my presence, — vowing that I would report 
 his conduct to the Count the instant his lordship 
 should return ; and indeed this I intended to do — 
 for I saw that if I were to keep it secret I should 
 be tacitly admitting that I dared not reveal the 
 incident, and should thus be placing myself more 
 or less in Luigi's power. He left the room, evi- 
 dently as much affrighted at my menace as he had 
 been astonished at the treatment which the letter 
 received at my hands. As for myself, I was not 
 only indignant against Luigi— but I was painfully 
 hurt by Angelo's conduct. Indeed I was shocked 
 at its grossness and indelicacy ; and I even reflected 
 that he never could have entertained for me any 
 genuine unselfish love — or else he would not now 
 have sought so seriously to compromise me. I re- 
 tired to my own chamber ; and being full of pain- 
 ful thoughts, I dismissed my maids more speedily 
 than was my wont — indeed, before I had com- 
 menced disapparelling myself. T ; will presently 
 perceive that every little circuu.:.- .-ae told most 
 fatally against me on the occasion < 3 which I am 
 referring." 
 
 There was another brief pause; and then 
 Beatrice continued as follows : — 
 
 " I sat for some time musing upon everything 
 which had occurred — musing most painfully too — 
 but with a full determination of telling the Count all 
 on his return, and thus by my frankness disarming 
 his jealousy. My chamber, I should observe, was 
 on the ground floor— which, I may add for your 
 information. Miss Trafford, is frequently the case 
 in Continental houses, especially country-seats. I 
 was aroused from my reverie by hearing a slight 
 noise at the casement. I started up, and looked. 
 The draperies parted— and Angelo Marano made 
 his appearance. Nothing could exceed the mingled
 
 terror and indignation which at once seized upon 
 me, — the former however paralysing my tongue, 
 which under the latter influence would have over- 
 whelued him with reproaches. He caught me in 
 his arms, expressing his fervid gratitude for the 
 interview which I had thus accorded him; so that 
 I gathered from the few hasty words he thus 
 uttered how fearful a mistake had arisen. In 
 short, his note had implored this interview ; for 
 concealed in the grove, he had beheld the Count's 
 departure in the travelling-carriage: — and if I 
 sent no reply by Luigi to Angelo's billet, it was to 
 be a sign that I would grant the request contained 
 in it. Tearing myself indignantly from his arms, 
 I at once gave him to understand that the reason 
 he had received no answer to his billet was because 
 I had not condescended to read it. He was con- 
 founded — and for an instant he evidently knew 
 not how to act. Again I bade him begone, or I 
 must summon the domestics — an alternative how- 
 ever, which, as you may easily suppose, I was 
 anxious enough to avoid. All of a sudden the 
 casement crashed in — a scream burst from my 
 lips— the Count, with features expressing the rage 
 of a demon, sprang into the room — and not more 
 quickly does the eye wink than was his sharp 
 atiletto plunged deep down into the heart of 
 Angelo." 
 
 "O Beatrice!" exclaimed the Marquis of Cam- 
 panel la, " I do now indeed comprehend how fear- 
 fully all circumstances combined in damning evi- 
 dence against you !" 
 
 " I fell senseless upon the floor," continued the 
 unfortunate Countess of Carboni ; " and when I 
 returned to consciousness, I was undressed— lying 
 in a bed in another chamber — with my two maids 
 in attendance. Their looks expressed not only 
 mournfulness, but likewise that unmistakable air 
 vhich denotes a belief in one's guilt, and which is 
 only subdued by the habit of respect which maids 
 display towards a superior. Conceive the anguish 
 of my thoughts when thus awakening from luicou- 
 Bciousness— an unconsciousness in which, as it ap- 
 peared, I had for hours been plunged ! I proclaimed 
 my innocence, and asked the girls if they believed 
 me guilty ? They remained silent; and one of them 
 wept. I sent this one, who seemed to show more 
 sympathy than the other, to entreat the Count to 
 grant me an immediate interview. His answer 
 was a stern refusal. I demanded writing-materials, 
 and penned a letter, containing the fullest details, 
 as well as referring his lordship to Luigi himself 
 for corroboration of the statement that I burnt 
 without reading Angelo Marano's billet. The 
 Count sent me back a verbal message, to the effect 
 that my tale was admirably devised, but that he 
 was not to become my dupe. AVhat was I then to 
 do ? For hours I remained in a state bordering 
 upon distraction. I perceived how fearfully all 
 circumstances had combined against me; and I 
 could not doubt that Luigi would either deny 
 having brought me a billet at all — or else would 
 boldly proclaim that I had read it, in order to re- 
 venge himself upon me for the menaces which I 
 bad uttered against him. In the meanwhile the 
 local magistrate had visited the chateau: the 
 Count had told his tale of how he had in a mo- 
 mentary transport of rage avenged his outraged 
 Louour : and the officer of the law was satisfied. 
 Bu»- tken came the fearful — the hideous — the hor- 
 
 rible proceedings which constituted the appalling 
 climax of all that I was destined to endure!" 
 
 Here again Beatrice stoppad ; and a strong con- 
 vulsing shudder passed through her entire frame. 
 She slowly raised her hand to her eyes, as if to 
 shut out some phantoms that appalled her view ; 
 and I had little difficulty in conjecturing what it 
 was that thus harrowed her feelings so painfully, 
 so terribly. 
 
 "It was late," she continued, "in the afternoon 
 of the day succeeding the tragedy of that dreadful 
 night, that the Count of Carboni made his appear- 
 ance in the room where I was detained in a species 
 of captivity under the eyes of my two maida. 
 There was a stern implacability— a settled fierce- 
 ness — a sinister savageness upon the features of 
 the Count ; and he ordered the two girls to retire. 
 The frank explanations contained in my letter 
 having been rejected, and my treatment having 
 been that of a guilty person, I did not condescend 
 to prayers, intercessions, or entreaties: but sud» 
 denly inspired with all the fortitude and the dig- 
 nity of conscious innocence, I took my stand upon 
 that pedestal. Never can I forget the look of 
 fierce sardonism which the Count bent upon me — 
 a look in which implacable hatred was blended 
 with a ferocious longing for revenge. I did not 
 choose to be the first to speak : I deemed it better- 
 to wait for whatsoever words he was about to ad- 
 dress unto me. He began by repeating the mes- 
 sage which he had sent me back by one of my 
 maids, to the effect that my tale was admirably 
 devised, but that unfortunately for me there were 
 evidences which gave it the lie. Then, as nearly 
 as I can recollect, he went on to address me in the 
 following strain: — 'When I left you in the grove 
 last evening, it was indeed only for the purpose of 
 penning the hasty note to be borne by the courier 
 to my lawyer : but on my return, at the very in- 
 stant I issued from the garden-door, I behel* 
 Angelo Marano at your feet. You gave an im- 
 patient gesture; and he at once disappeared 
 amongst the trees. I composed my countenance, 
 so that I might not betray my knowledge of that 
 incident which had just occurred ; for I thought 
 to myself, ' If Beatrice be innocent she will deal 
 candidly with me ; if she be guilty she will endea- 
 vour to deceive me !' And when I rejoined you, 
 you spoke not a syllable relative to that occurrence : 
 but your looks betrayed confusion and trouble. 
 Then all in an instant my mind was made up how 
 to act ; and I pretexted the necessity of a sudden 
 journey. But when at a little distance, I returned 
 aloue — I concealed myself amongst the trees of 
 the garden — I kept watch. I beheld your para- 
 mour steal in at the casement. Just heaven! 
 what feelings took possession of me when all the 
 worst was thus suddenly confirmed ! Ah— and 
 when I in a few moments burst into your cham- 
 ber, through that same casement — resolved to 
 avenge my outraged honour— did not a scream of 
 guilty terror thrill from your lips ? and did you 
 not fall fainting upon the floor ? Yes : your con- 
 duct was altogether that of a guilty woman ! But 
 there are even other evidences against you. Did 
 you not, immediately on retiring to your own 
 chamber, dismiss your handmaids for the night, 
 without receiving their wonted ministrations ? — 
 and was not this step taken that you might all the 
 more speedily receive your paramour to your
 
 arms? And then, too, in respect to Luigi — how 
 transparent, how poor, how wretched is the expla- 
 nation which your letter conveyed to me upon that 
 point! I have questioned Luigi; and with an 
 unmistakable frankness he at once informed me 
 what had happened, A note was handed to him 
 by a stranger, to be delivered to you. Without 
 suspecting aught wrong — and ia the proper dis- 
 charge of his menial duty — he handed you that 
 note. You perused it ; and he, waiting for any 
 commands that you might have to give, was asto- 
 nished to behold how the flush of a wild joy 
 overspread your countenance. You said that there 
 was no reply ; and Luigi retired accordingly. It 
 is in vain, vile woman, that you have sought to 
 throw discredit upon a tried and faithful servant! 
 You are guilty ; and immense as your crime has 
 been, so shall my vengeance now prove propor- 
 tionately terrible !' — It was thus that the Count of 
 Carboni spoke." 
 
 "Ob, what a fearful combination of circumstan- 
 tial evidences!" murmured the Marchioness of 
 Campanella, as she lavished consolatory caresses 
 upon her sister. 
 
 "Suffer me to bring this hideous narrative to a 
 conclusion," resumed Beatrice : " it will not last 
 much longer. I have just given you the details 
 of that speech which the Count of Carboni ad- 
 dressed to me : but, as you may readily suppose, I 
 frequently interrupted it with ejaculations indig- 
 nantly repelling the various constructions he put 
 upon my conduct in every progressive step of that 
 fatal drama. Vain were my representations: I 
 might as well have endeavoured to bid the storm 
 of heaven itself be still, or with my breath to lull 
 the fury of the waves of a turbulent ocean, as to 
 seek to justify myself and assuage the feelings of 
 the Count. He believed me guilty ; and he pro- 
 ceeded to execute his terrible threat of vengeance. 
 JSe bade me follow him j and I obeyed mechani- 
 cally. He led me to an apartment on a higher 
 storey ; and as we entered, I observed a large 
 screen spread open before the door. That door 
 the Count locked, placing the key in his pocket. 
 He then drew back the screen; and, O God ! what 
 a spectacle burst upon my view ! For there — 
 suspended to the ceiling, in the place where an 
 enormous chandelier was wont to hang — appeared 
 the body of the unfortunate Angelo Marano !" 
 
 " By heaven !" exclaimed the Marquis of Cam- 
 panella, " it was atrocious— it was abominable ! 
 Even though the Count believed you guilty, 
 Beatrice, his conduct was infamous and diaboli- 
 cal !" 
 
 The Marchioness of Campanella was so much 
 affected for some minutes that Beatrice was to this 
 extent delayed in the recital of her awful narra- 
 tive. At length however she proceeded in the 
 following strain : — 
 
 " I threw myself frantically on my knees at the 
 feet of the Count, beseeching him to release me 
 from the contemplation of that appalling spec- 
 tacle : but Oh ! the implacable words which he 
 addressed to me! — ' You shall remain here! you, 
 the living woman, with your dead paramour — 
 until all that beauty which on his part led you 
 astray, shall have turned into the loathsomeness 
 of corruption, and likewise until your own brain 
 shall have become maddened by the fearful spec- 
 tacle ! Ab, you espoused an Italian; and you 
 
 shall now learn vhat an Italian vengeance is !'— 
 These were the words that he addressed to me; 
 and already half-maddened by the fearful ordeal 
 upon which I had entered, I threw myself upoa 
 my knees near the suspended corpse itself, dis* 
 tractedly proclaiming mine innocence, and im« 
 ploring God to work a miracle to prove it. In the 
 wildness and the frenzy of my mental anguish I 
 adjured the dead himself to speak and proclaim 
 me guiltless ! But heaven itself had abandoned 
 me : and no miracle was wrought for me. Oh ! 
 conceive the horror of my position, — I, the living, 
 doomed to hold that awful companionship with tha 
 dead ! Was ever vengeance more fearful ? I flew 
 to the windows to dash them open — to shriek for 
 help, or to precipitate myself thence and end my 
 miseries in the blood of a distracted suicide. But 
 my tormentor was ever near me : his strong grasp 
 fixed itself upon me — I was dragged back from 
 the casements — he would not suffer me to find re- 
 lief in death. Ah ! if I were to particularize 
 every varied phaso of horror through which my 
 mind passed, my narrative would be extended to 
 hours ; and Oh ! I could not perform such a 
 task. Let me therefore hurry over these details 
 as speedily as possible. For four days and nights 
 was I kept a prisoner in that apartment, — the 
 Count never once leaving me. He, the living per- 
 secutor—and the dead cause of all my fearful 
 wrongs and hideous sufferings, — those two wero 
 my companions ! Twice every day a domestic— I 
 know not which of them all it was, for I never 
 once caught a glimpse of his countenance— placed 
 a tray of provisions just within the door, in front 
 of which the screen was again drawn. The Count 
 however ate but little ; and as for myself — during 
 those four mortal days and nights not a single 
 morsel of food passed my lips. Sometimes, for 
 hours together, I remained plunged into a stupor 
 wherein the sense of life itself seemed lost ; and 
 then for intervals I raved in wildest frenzy. For 
 there ever hung the corpse of Angelo Marano ; and 
 there ever stood the Count with folded arms, his 
 eyes incessantly riveted upon me, as if not a single 
 feeling I experienced should escape his notice. But 
 I will hurry over that terrifying ordeal to which I 
 was subjected ; and I will explain how I- escaped 
 therefrom. The dawn was glimmering in at the win^ 
 dows, as the fourth night of my horrible captivity 
 there was drawing to a close, — when I observed 
 that the Count of Carboni was seated upon a sofa ia 
 a position that made me regard him more atten- 
 tively. Methought that he either slept profoundly, 
 or that he was dead. Trembling with suspense— 
 scarcely however venturing to indulge in the fever- 
 ish hope that the moment of escape was near at 
 hand— I crept towards him. His closed eyes and 
 his measured breathing appeared to indicate that 
 he indeed slept. Still I trembled lest it should 
 prove only a diabolic stratagem on his part — aa 
 artifice to cheat me into the belief that my eman- 
 cipation was come, so that at the instant when I 
 fancied that I stood upon the threshold of freedom, 
 his hand might be stretched forth to drag ma 
 back. Oh, with what fearful suspense did I con- 
 template the Count's features, as the beams of 
 morning played with increasing power upon theml 
 Was it possible that his iron nature had succumbed 
 to the sense of utter fatigue— while my constitu- 
 tion, though far more delicate, sustained mo yet ?
 
 ELLLX PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 200 
 
 For four days and for four nights neither of us 
 had closed an eye in slumber, until now at length 
 my relentless persecutor — my implacable tor- 
 mentor, was exhausted first ! Yes— it was indeed 
 no artifice on his part — no delusion on mine : that 
 man slept ! Mv trembling fingers sought about 
 his person for the key of the door ; and I soon 
 clutched it. In a few moments that door opened 
 —I crossed the threshold — I closed and locked it 
 again. So great was the relief I experienced in 
 escaping from that appalling spectacle, and from 
 that atmosphere sickly and fetid with the presence 
 of the dead, that I almost fainted as I entered 
 upon the landing. But I was sustained by a pre- 
 ternatural fortitude. The hour was yet too early 
 for the domestics to be about ; and, unobserved, I 
 reached my own chamber. There I hastily put on 
 a bonnet and scarf ; and I took with me whatso- 
 ever ready money I possessed : but not a single 
 trticle of all the jewellery which my husband had 
 No. 27.— Elles Peect. 
 
 lavished upon me— no, not even so much as th« 
 wedding ring — that emblem of a detested alliance- 
 would I take ! I succeeded in issuing unperceived 
 from the chateau ; and when I breathed the fresh 
 air of freedom, it was only to find myself an out- 
 cast wanderer upon the face of the earth." 
 
 " Ob, my beloved sister !" exclaimed the Mar- 
 chioness of Campanella, " why came you not to 
 me ? — for if your tale had been told us, we should 
 have believed it — yes, my husband and myself 
 would have put faith in your words!" 
 
 "No, no ! you would not!" responded Beatrice : 
 " for was not the horrible conviction strong in my 
 mind that circumstantial evidences had fearfully 
 combined against me ? Did I not know that the 
 Count would tell his tal?, not merely as he himself 
 actually believed it in all its details, but in the 
 spirit of a vindictive exaggeration ? And then 
 too, I reflected that branded as I was, if I sought 
 your abode I should only be bringing disgrace and
 
 210 
 
 ELLEN PERCY : OE, THE MKMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 dishonour tbither; — and it was enough for me to 
 suffer without carrying distress and affliction, 
 shame and scandal, into the home of a sister whom 
 I so dearly loved ! I came to England : I buried 
 myself in a seclusion which best suited my meagre 
 finances and my desolate spirit. Weeks and 
 months passed— penury stared me in the face — I 
 awoke to the necessity of doing something to earn 
 my bread. I thought of the stage ; for at the 
 Count's chateau we often had private theatricals — 
 the only recreation to which he had been at all 
 attached ; and I had received many flattering com- 
 pliments upon the manner in which I had ac- 
 quitted myself of the parts undertaken by me 
 Then it was that I applied to Miss Trafford, Oh ! 
 from your lips, my dear friend, did I receive the 
 first syllables of sympathy which for a long, long 
 period had greeted my ears. You exerted your- 
 self on my bebalf ; and I received the promise of 
 an engagement. One night — it was after I had 
 parted from you at the private entrance of the 
 theatre — I suddenly encountered my husband. 
 Ejaculations burst from our lips ; and it instan- 
 taneously struck me that the measure of his vin- 
 dictiveness was not yet filled, and that his ran- 
 corous persecutions of his unhappy wife were now 
 to be renewed. I even trembled test he should by 
 some means have learnt my intention to appear 
 upon the stage, and that be meant to thwart and 
 to expose me in order that he might plunge me 
 still more deeply down into the vortex of hopeless 
 misery. He bade me follow hin) ; and I obeyed. 
 He led me into some secluded street— where he 
 suddenly stopped, and sternly demanded what I 
 wanted of him ? I could only reply by putting a 
 similar question, and asking what he wanted of 
 me ? He said that he bad renounced me for ever 
 — that I was no longer his wife — that he loathed, 
 detested, and abhorred me — and tnat if he had 
 expected to meet me i^ England, he should not 
 have come hither. I told him that I had no more 
 anxiety to claim him as a husband than he had to 
 acknowledge me as a wife — that I was passing 
 under a feigned name — that I was necessitated to 
 earn my bread by appearing upon the stage — and 
 that if he would consent to keep the seal of silence 
 upon his lips in reference to myself, I would ob- 
 serve a corresponding forbearance with regard to 
 him. He agreed ; and we separated. The re- 
 mainder of my narrative may be summed up in a 
 few words. On that memorable day when you re- 
 turned not to me. Miss Trafford, I thought that I 
 had lost my only friend : I naturally conceived that 
 from my sister's lips you had beard sufficient to 
 prejudice you against me — in short, that you had 
 abandoned me utterly. Oh ! I could not then ap- 
 pear upon the stage — I felt that my heart was 
 breaking — that my spirit was crushed ! I fled 
 from my humble lodging. It was my intention to 
 quit for ever this great metropolis where my last 
 hopes were destroyed, and where I dreaded lest at 
 any moment I might encounter a sister and a 
 brother-in-law who believed me guilty, and a friend 
 who had become prejudiced against me. In the 
 distracted state of my mind, I wandered amidst 
 the mazes of this modern Babylon, until utterly 
 lost in its labyrinthine intricacies ; and then, ex- 
 hausted, I sank down on the doorstep of that very 
 house where you this evening found me." 
 
 Beatrice ceased : her narrative was completed. 
 
 Need I state that we — the three horrified and 
 afilicted listeners— lavished upon her all possible 
 consolations ? or that she received from the Mar- 
 quis and Marchioness the assurance that thence, 
 forth she should find a home with them ? I left 
 it to her sister to inform Beatrice on a more 
 fitting occasion all that had come to my know- 
 ledge in respect to the Count of Carbotii, and how 
 he gloated vindictively over the pictorial represen- 
 tation of the appalling scene which she had been 
 describing to us. The Marquis intimated that 
 some measures should be adopted to render, if pos- 
 sible, the innocence of Beatrice apparent : but it 
 was agreed that nothing should be done until the 
 maturest deliberations had taken place upon the 
 subject. I bade a temporary farewell to ray un- 
 fortunate friend, her sister, and her brother-in« 
 law ; and I returned to Hunter Street, reflecting 
 with varied feelings upon all (hat had. this day 
 happened, and upon all that I had heard. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVIIL 
 
 On the following day, at about the hour of nooB, 
 I I repaired according to promise, to Zarah's lodg. 
 . ings: for I was not only desirous to see Beda, but 
 I had likewise been reflecting whether through 
 Zarah's instrumentality in some way or another, 
 the Count of Carboni might not be brought to the 
 understanding and recognition of his wife's inno- 
 cence ? Not that for an instant I deemed it pos- 
 sible that the Count and Beatrice could ever agaia 
 live together— or that the strong loathing which 
 the i^nfortunate lady naturally experienced towards 
 her fiend-like persecutor, could ever be dispelled. 
 But still it was important for her innocence to be 
 recognised, so that she might be enabled to look 
 the world in the face, and that there might not be 
 any inconvenience in her residing with the Mar- 
 quis and Marchioness of Campanella. But as for 
 any settled plan in reference to the way in which I 
 proposed to enlist Zarah's services — I had reallj 
 none. Indeed, the idea of adopting this course at 
 all was only as yet floating dimly and vaguely in 
 my mind. 
 
 I reached the house in which the gipsy resided : 
 and as I was ascending to her sitting-room, I met 
 upon the stairs a swarthy-faced Italian, dressed ia 
 a suit of black, with a white neck cravat, and 
 having the air of a valet out of livery— as indeed I 
 felt convinced that he was. Ho was short and 
 slender — about thirty years of age — tolerably good- 
 looking — yet with a certain expression of coun- 
 tenance which even at the very first glance I did 
 not much like. He however stood aside in a 
 most respecU"ul manner to allow me to pass ; and 
 in a few instants more I was with Zarah. I found 
 her alone, engaged with her books; and I was 
 somewhat disappointed at not beholding Beda 
 there. 
 
 " She will be here presently," said Zarah, read- 
 ing my thoughts ; " and I have so far paved the 
 way in furtherance of your generous design, that 
 my grandmother will consent to part with her, in 
 the belief that she is coming to attend upon me. 
 Thus, if after an interview with Beda you slill
 
 ELLEN HERCT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 211 
 
 entertain the same idea, I think there will be no 
 difficulty in esecutin^j it." 
 
 I expressed my gratitude for the trouble that 
 Zarah nas taking in the matter; and 1 asked, as 
 if quite casually, " Who was that Italian, dressed 
 in black, and with a white neckcloth, whom I 
 have just encountered upon the stairs?" 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Zarah, laughing gaily : " that 
 is the Count of Carboni's valet — for I suppose yce 
 must call his lordship by that name, since we have 
 read it upon the card. And what do you think, 
 my dear Miss Percy ?" continued Zarab, again 
 laughing', " that impertinent valet has had the 
 audacity to fling tender looks at me, and to ad- 
 dress me when we met upon the stairs. He 
 speaks English tolerably well ; for he has been in 
 this country before— and he tells me that his 
 master is as well acquainted with England and 
 its language as if he were a native." 
 
 " Oh ! then, I perceive, Zarah," I said, with a 
 half-smile, " that you have not altogether rejected 
 the Italian valet's overtures to a little conversa- 
 tion ?" 
 
 "He spoke so civilly and courteously," an- 
 swered Zarah, " that I could not possibly cut him 
 short without appearing downright rude and un- 
 couth. He has a tolerable amount of conceit 
 about him ; for he took very good care to give me 
 to understand that he was not brought up to fill 
 a menial position — that he belongs Vo a good 
 family, which however had e-sperienced reverses — 
 and that in fact he is a gentleman by birth. Ah ! 
 and he said more too : for he told me that during 
 the eight or ten years he has been in his master's 
 service, he has had opportunities of amassing a 
 very pretty little sum of money." 
 
 " He has indeed been communicative 1" I ob- 
 served. 
 
 " I am convinced," proceeded Zarah, again 
 laughing, "that the poor fellow is in love with 
 me — and that he said all these things to prove 
 that there is not a very great disparity between 
 our social positions : for of course you know, my 
 dear 3Iiss Percy, I pass as a sort of lady beneath 
 this roof." 
 
 " And I suppose, Zarah," I remarked, " that you 
 have not given him any encouragement ?" 
 
 "He has not as yet been pointed enough," re- 
 plied the gipsy, " to enable me to have the appear- 
 ance of taking his looks or his words in a serious 
 sense. But rest assured. Miss Percy, that I am 
 no silly coquette, fond of adulation, or capable of 
 trifling with any one's feelings : while as for love 
 — — But no matter ! That," added Zarah, em- 
 phatically, "is impossible !" 
 
 "And has this valet," I inquired, "spoken of 
 his master by the name of Carboni ?" 
 
 "No," responded Zarah : " and of course I have 
 not dropped the slightest hint to the efi'ect that 
 1 am acquainted with that secret. It is however 
 tolerably plain that Luigi is inclined to be very 
 communicative " 
 
 "Luigi?" I ejaculated. "Is that man's name 
 Luigi ?" 
 
 " I have his own word for it," answered Zarab. 
 "But why do you speak so excitedly ?" 
 
 I reflected for a few moments; and then I said, 
 " You have already seen, Zarah, that for certain 
 reasons I have desired all possible information in 
 respect to this Count of Caiboni. I think that 
 
 from everything you have just been telling me, 
 you may perhaps render some further services. 
 Indeed you may possibly assist in bringing about 
 a result which is greatly to be desired." 
 
 " You know, my dear Miss Percy," rejoined 
 Zarah, " that you may command my services to 
 any extent." 
 
 Again I reflected deeply. Should I tell Zarah 
 the whole tale in respect to Beatrice ? There 
 would be no breach of confidence when the revela- 
 lation was made for a good purpose : and indeed 
 Zarah could not very well assist me without a full 
 knowledge of all the circumstances. I therefore 
 resolved to take her into my confidence; and in as 
 succinct a manner as possible I related everything 
 which concerned the Count and Countess of Car- 
 boni. Zarah listened with the profoundest in- 
 terest, — with which wonderment and horror were 
 blended when I reached the concluding parti- 
 culars. 
 
 " And now," I added, " you are acquainted with 
 the meaning of that horrible picture. You under- 
 stand likewise how important it is that the inno- 
 cence of Beatrice should be made apparent; — 
 while there can be no doubt that Luigi is a villain, 
 who from vindictive motires, as well as to shield 
 himself from the imputation of being the hired 
 instrument of Angelo Marano's purpose, gave such 
 a colouring to his own share in the drama as 
 should confirm all the Count's suspicions against 
 the unfortunate Beatrice." 
 
 " In such a case," observed Zarah, " there is no 
 need to stand upon any false delicacy with regard 
 to Luigi ; and if I could only cajole him into a 
 full confession of the truth in respect to the part 
 he played in that fearful drama, 1 should be justi- 
 fied in adoptiog such means fur such an end." 
 
 "Most assuredly I" I answered. "Not for a 
 single instant should we stand upon punctilios 
 in reference to a villain of so diabolical a ; tamp as 
 this Luigi!" 
 
 Zarah and myself now deliberated upon a parti- 
 cular plan : we settled all the details ; and the 
 gipsy promised to lose no time in carrying them 
 out. Scarcely were our projects thus digested, 
 when the door opened ; and Beda made her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 On the preceding day, be it remembered, she 
 was plainly but neatly dressed : now there was an 
 improvement visible in her toilet; and I at ouce 
 comprehended that Zarah had, with the kindest 
 consideration, taken care that the girl should ap- 
 pear before me in as respectable a style as pos- 
 sible. She entered the room with a light airy 
 step — with a partial smile upon the pouting ful- 
 ness of her red lips— and with beams of gaiety 
 and pleasure dancing in her superb dark eyes. She 
 looked even more ravishing and captivating than 
 on the previous day ; and, if possible, I felt even 
 more deeply interested in her. 
 
 " I will leave you alone together," said Zarah, 
 rising from her seat : " for it is time I should 
 think of putting off this morning wrapper, and 
 assuming a more suitable toilet for the hour of 
 the day." 
 
 '■' Beda," I said, when Zarah had quitted the 
 room, " sit down. I wish to converse with you." 
 
 The girl unhesitatingly took a chair— with no 
 diffidence nor bashfulness — nor yet with boldness 
 nor hardihood. She had a certain freedom and
 
 independence of spirit, chnrncteristic of the race 
 to wliieli she belonged; but there wns also a cer- 
 tain uaturnl gracefulness, which might almost bo 
 termed a wild unstudied elegance, in her move- 
 ments imd her actions. She sat down, and fixed 
 her largo dark eyes upon me, — thus surveying me 
 with a species of wonderment and interest, as if 
 she thought me a very superior being, and was 
 alike proud and pleased to be brought in contact 
 with me. 
 
 "Do you know, Beda," I asked, in the kindest 
 tone, " why you came hither to see me to-day ?" 
 
 " Zarah told me," responded Beda, whoso voice 
 was singularly musical — with almost a golden 
 richness of tone, — " that you Lad spoken very 
 generously of me, and that you wished to do 
 something for mo. She bado me mind and not 
 tell her grandmother all this — nor indeed to men- 
 tion your name to the old woman on any account. 
 I had previously promised to servo you to the best 
 of my power, in case I should hear of any in- 
 trigues or plots hatching against you ; and I in- 
 tended to keep that promise faithfully." 
 
 " You are a good girl, Beda," I answered ; 
 " and I will at once state that I have conceived a 
 great interest in your welfare." 
 
 " I was very glad," replied Beda, " when Zarah 
 told mo that I was to meet you here to-day : for 
 she bad spoken in such high terms of you, that I 
 already loved you. And she said too that you are 
 80 very, very clever — that you are the greatest 
 actress in this country — and that you perform at 
 a place where there aro thousands of people 
 gathered to behold you. So I was very much 
 pleased to think that I should see you to-day : 
 for I knew who you were yesterday — and I should 
 Lave been delighted if you Lad spoken to me a 
 single word," 
 
 All this was said with so much artless in- 
 genuousness, so much natural candour and un- 
 studied frankness, that it was impossible for a 
 single instant to doubt Beda's sincerity. I Lad 
 not checked her while she was speaking in so 
 complimentary a strain in respect to myself; be- 
 cause I wished to hear all that she had to say, and 
 to suffer her to say it in her own natural way. 
 
 " Should you like to live with me altogether, 
 Bedii P" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, that I should !" she joyously exclaimed : 
 and brighter grew the beams of pleasure that were 
 dancing in the depths of her large lustrous 
 eyes. 
 
 " I do not mean, you know," I said, " that you 
 are to become my companion— but to be my maid 
 i— to attend upon me " 
 
 "1 know very well," she interjected, "that I 
 am not fit to be the equal of a beautiful and 
 well dressed lady such as you are : but I should 
 like to live with you, ou any terms you think 
 fit." 
 
 "Eemember, Beda," I continued, "if you como 
 to live with me, it will bo in London — you will see 
 little of the beautiful open country — you will 
 seldom ramble into the fields— and I think I must 
 add that if you meet any of your old acquaint- 
 ances, you must not speak to them — with the ex- 
 ception of Zarah, whom you will often see." 
 
 " I do not care for the fields nor the open 
 country," responded Beda, " if I can only live 
 with you. As for my acquaintances, I know 
 
 nobody but Zarah and her grandmother, and an 
 old woman that I have been living with near 
 
 Tottenham. ]>ut she used .to boat me " 
 
 " Boat you?" 1 exclaimed, indignantly. " But 
 perhaps," I added, in a milder tone, " you were 
 sometimes in fault?" 
 
 "I don't know," replied Beda : " but if I hap- 
 pened to broiik some of her wretched old crockery, 
 she used to strike me. It did not however much 
 matter ; for I always gave her a blow in return. 
 Still I did not like that sort of life " 
 
 "Well thou, Beda," I interrupted her, "you 
 Lave no acquaintances but those whom you Lave 
 named; and you aro not much known amongst 
 the gipsy race ?" 
 
 " I knew a great many," she replied, " when I 
 lived with my father and mother, and we travelled 
 about in a caravan: but they died five or six years 
 ago — and then when I went to live with the old 
 woman near Tottenham I lost sight of everybody I 
 used to know ; and that's why I told you 1 have 
 no acquaintances now." 
 
 " What was your father, Beda ?" I asked. 
 
 " A gipsy, Miss," she ingenuously responded. 
 " But ho used to pride himself on never Laving 
 taken anything that did not belong to him ; and 
 my mother never told fortunes. I havo heard that 
 they had some little means which died with them. 
 Let me see ? — what was it called ? Oh, I recol- 
 lect! — an annuity — allowed them by some very 
 rich people, for Laving found their child, which 
 some other gipsies, who were very wicked, had 
 stolen. Do you understand me, Miss ?" 
 
 " Perfectly, Beda," I answered. " Do you hap- 
 pen to know the name of the persons who allowed 
 your parents that money ?" 
 
 " No— I never heard their name," responded 
 Beda. " My parents were very kind to me :" and 
 large tears gathered in her superb lustrous eyes. 
 
 " And I will bo very kind to you, my poor 
 Beda," I said, caressing her clear olive cheek. 
 " How old are you ?" 
 
 " I shall be fifteen in a few weeks," replied 
 B»da. " Do you not think I am very short for 
 my age ?" 
 
 "No— you are the proper height. And therefore 
 it is arranged, Beda," I continued, "that you shall 
 como to me. You will remain with Zarah to-day ; 
 and I shall come and fetch you away to-morrow. 
 Zarah will buy you some nice clotlies ; and there- 
 fore you will have everything in readiness by the 
 time I arrive. You will bo with other servants at 
 the Louse where I live : but you must never talk 
 to them of Zarah, nor of her grandmother, nor of 
 the old woman near Tottenham ; and you must 
 contrive to say as littlo as possible in respect to 
 your parents, the caravan, the annuity, the gipsies 
 who stole the child, and everything that regards 
 your former mode of lile." 
 
 I gave Beda these injunctions in order to save 
 her from Iho chance of being joked or taunted 
 concerning her antecedents by those who would 
 be her fellow-servants at the Louse in Hunter 
 Street. She promised to remember everything I 
 told her ; and seemed overjoyed at the prospect 
 of coming to live with me. Zarah now returned 
 to the room ; and before I lelt, I took the oppor- 
 tunity of having a little private conversation with 
 her. I placed in her hand a sum of money, to bo 
 expended in equipping 13cda with a sufficient and
 
 ELXEN PBECT; OE, THE SEEMOIES 01? AN ACTEESS. 
 
 213 
 
 suitable wardrobe; so that her first appearance at 
 the Normans' house might be as respectable aa 
 possible ; and I bogged Zarah to superintend all 
 these little arrangementa. 
 
 On taking my departure, I proceeded to Mi- 
 vart's Hotel— where I found the Marchioness and 
 Beatrice : but the Marquis was absent, making 
 final arrangements for a house which he had taken 
 for some months. Beatrice looked much better 
 than I cculd have dared to hope to find her : for 
 not only did she experience those comforts to 
 which she had been accustomed, but her heart was 
 considerably lightened by the circumstance that 
 her innocence was believed by those whoso 
 good opinion she so much valued. I took an 
 opportunity of speaking aside to the Marchioness 
 ir. the following manner : — 
 
 " I have some little project in hand, which may 
 perhaps tend to convince the Count of Carboni of 
 Lis injured wife's innocence. Do not ask me now 
 what it is ; and say nothing to Beatrice on the sub- 
 ject — for we must not excite a hope until we are 
 confident of being enabled to fulfil it. Perhaps your 
 ladyship will also be kind enough to request the 
 Marquis to suspend any operations on hia own 
 side iu respect to the Count of Carboni, until the 
 result of my own proceedings be known." 
 
 The Marchioness promised to fulfil all my in- 
 structions, — declaring that she had the fullest 
 faith in my discretion and sagacity. 
 
 On the following day the Marquis, the Mar- 
 chioness, and Beatrice removed from Mivart's 
 Hotel to the house hired for their accommodation; 
 and I fetched away Beda from Zarah's lodgings. 
 I had previously told the Normans that accident 
 had thrown me in the way of a young creature in 
 whom I had become much interested, and that I 
 was desirous to take her into my own special ser- 
 vice. I entered into no further particulars ; and 
 the Normans asked me for none. When Boda 
 was introduced to the house, they as well as their 
 domestics were all astonished and delighted at her 
 appearance : they were immediately interested in 
 her; and I had now no fear that the servants 
 would treat her unkindly. 
 
 But I will here take leave of Beda for the pre- 
 sent, and return to that project which I had 
 settled with Zarah, and which had so important 
 an aim in view. A fortnight passed from the day 
 on which that project was first initiated ; and the 
 period had now arrived when Zarah felt convinced 
 it might be carried into eS'ect. Accordingly, I 
 one morning visited her at an earlier hour than 
 usual ; and as this appointment wes prearranged, 
 she was iu readiness to give me immediate and 
 stealthy admission into the house. Zarah's sit- 
 ting-room was separated from her bed-chamber by 
 folding-doors ; so that in either apartment any one 
 could overhear what was taking place in the 
 other. 
 
 " Do you think the moment is come ?" I asked, 
 as I followed her into the parlour. 
 
 " I am convinced of it," she replied, with an air 
 of confidence. " You shall see. Luigi is out now : 
 he will return in a quarter of an hour — and I 
 gave him permission to come up to my apartment 
 and sit with me a little while in discourse. I can 
 assure you. Miss Percy, that never was infatuation 
 80 great!— and you will soon be satistied of the 
 immensity of the power which I wield over him. 
 
 He has told me, amongst other things, that his 
 master — whom he voluntarily named as the Count 
 of Carboni — had sustained a great and terrific 
 calamity, which had disgusted him with the world 
 and driven him to misanthropic habits. The 
 Count, it appears, feels most acutely what he con- 
 ceives to be his dishonour ; and hence the conceal- 
 ment of his identity beneath a feigned name — 
 hence also the bitterness of that vindictive spirit 
 which makes him still gloat over the fearful re- 
 venge which he wreaked." 
 
 "Did Luigi allude to his revenge in more spe- 
 cific terms?" 1 inquired. 
 
 " No," responded Zarah : " he spoke darkly of 
 
 a revenge which had been wreaked But he is 
 
 coming ! — the front door has just opened ! Hide 
 yourself, Miss Percy !" 
 
 I lost not a moment in retreating into the 
 bed-chamber, — the folding-doors of which I care- 
 fully closed; and then placing my ear against 
 them, I awaited the issue of the scene that waa 
 about to take place. • 
 
 In a few minutes Luigi entered the sitting, 
 room, and I heard Zarah greet him with a mingled 
 courtesy and ceremony. She desired him to ba 
 seated ; and I soon discovered that he spoke tho 
 English language with considerable fluency. 
 
 " This is the moment for which I have been 
 looking forward with so much hope and anxiety]" 
 he began, speaking with accents of tender enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " Stop ! be not too fast !" interrupted Zarah. 
 " It is true — and I hesitate not to confess it — that 
 your attentions have not been lost upon me : 
 but we have known each other for so short a 
 time " 
 
 " Yes ! — but in a short time," cried Luigi, 
 "persons may often come to know each other as 
 well as after the longest acquaintance. Besides, 
 have I not dealt frankly with you? — have I not 
 told you exactly how I am at present situated in a 
 pecuniary point of view — what my prospects 
 are " * 
 
 "True !" ejaculated Zarah: "and I believe you. 
 Yes — you have been sincere and candid ! Yet 
 there are some things concerning which I would 
 ask you ; and before I can give you any decisive 
 response " 
 
 " Oh ! you are so handsome," exclaimed the en- 
 raptured Italian: "you know not how I love 
 you!" 
 
 " And will you give me the proof that I shall 
 demand ?" asked Zarah, assuming a tender tone 
 of voice. 
 
 "Yes ! — any proof," ejaculated Luigi. " Y'ou 
 have but to speak — and Oh ! I shall be delighted 
 to give you some proof of that love with which 
 you have inspired me !" 
 
 "Be not too sure," said Zarah emphatically. 
 " There are times when the heart may be put to 
 too strong a test " 
 
 "With me it is impossible !" exclaimed Luigi. 
 " But what means this mysterious language ? 
 There is a strange lustre shining in your eyes; 
 and yet it is a superb light ! And, Oh ! those 
 eyes of yours are so grand in their radiance— so 
 magnificent in their splendour — that to bask in 
 their sunshine would be bliss ineffable !" 
 
 " If you will but do something to deserve my 
 love," said Zarah, " you shall be at liberty to ad-
 
 214. 
 
 BXrBir PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3. 
 
 dress me in all these beautiful compliments; aad 
 I vpill listen to them ! Yes ; I will display all the 
 tenderness that you can desire; and I will say to 
 you, 'Luigi, I am thine ! Thou shalt lead me to 
 the altar !' " 
 
 " Oh, thanks ! a thousand thanks !" exclaimed 
 the enraptured Italian. " What proof do you de- 
 mand of me ? Bid me attempt any difficult task 
 —and I will essay it ! Bid me reveal every secret 
 of this heart of mine — and I will confess to you 
 as if to a sainted priest !" 
 
 " Listen to me, Luigi !" said Zarah. " For 
 certain reasons— which I will explain to you at 
 another time — I have vowed that to no man 
 shall my love be ever given— on no man shall my 
 band ever be conferred — in whose soul I Lave 
 reason to believe that there are secrets treasured 
 up. This belief I entertain of you. Do not in- 
 terrupt me— but continue to listen with attention ! 
 Yes, Luigi— there are secrets in your soul — and I 
 have partially divined them !" 
 
 "You?" ejaculated the Italian, "with startled 
 accents. 
 
 " Yes — I !" she responded. " Prom certain 
 words which have dropped from your lips at dif. 
 ferent times — words full of significancy, yet ao 
 mysterious " 
 
 " Yes, yes— it may be so !" said Luigi, in musing 
 accents. " When I am excited, I speak un- 
 guardedly. And Oh ! to be under the influence of 
 the spells of your beauty — to be infatuated as I 
 am infatuated with your loveliness " 
 
 "Suffer me to proceed," interrupted Zarah. 
 " Not only from words which you yourself have let 
 drop, but likewise from certain mutterings which 
 I accidentally overheard on the part of your 
 master, the Count of Carboni " 
 
 "Well, well," said Luigi, tremulous with, sus- 
 pense. "And those words " 
 
 " Point to the reading of a fearful secret," con- 
 tinued Zarah. "And what is more But now 
 
 I am giving yoit, a proof of confidence 1 have 
 
 seen that fearful picture in the Count's cham- 
 ber I" 
 
 " Ah ! I remember," interjected Luigi, " that 
 when you and I have been conversing together, I 
 have dropped allusions to the deadly vengeance 
 which the Count wreaked in a certain quarter. 
 But I did not think that I spoke so plainly " 
 
 "Luigi I" exclaimed Zarah, assuming an impas- 
 sioned tone; "1 care not what part you may 
 have played in that tremendous drama : I care not 
 to what an extent you may have participated in its 
 horrors ! No— for all this I care not ! But 
 what I do care for, is that you should keep 
 a single secret from me ! Frankly do I 
 declare that if you have been guilty of crimes, 
 the fact would make no difference in what I might 
 feel towards you: but I must know tbem ! No- 
 thing must be hidden from me ! I would not wed 
 a man over whose countenance I knew that there 
 was a mask : I would sooner see that countenance 
 revealed, even though it were one impressed with 
 the sinister traces of crime !" 
 
 " Inscrutable being that you are !" murmured 
 the infatuated Luigi; "your words fill me with a 
 strange bewilderment. Yet, Oh ! the tones of 
 your voice — your looks " 
 
 " Deal frankly with me, Luigi, and I am 
 thine !" — and Zarah admirably suited her accents 
 
 to tbo part which she «a8 performing. " Confess, 
 Luigi, that to obtain this hold which you possess 
 over your master, you did something — you were 
 guilty of some deep duplicity — perhaps you your- 
 self, for your own reasons, aided to bring about 
 the catastrophe. If so — and if it were for revenge, 
 I could admire you !" 
 
 "Ah, this promise which you now hold out ?" 
 exclaimed the Italian, in rapturous triumph. 
 "Yes, yes! — it was through revenge! At the 
 same time that the Count wreaked Ms revenge, I 
 wreaked mine. And now admire me, my well- 
 beloved ! — admire me !" 
 
 " Oh, I admire you, Luigi !" cried Zarah, in a 
 tone which for its enthusiasm seemed to emulate 
 his own. " Proceed! — tell me all this — secure my 
 admiration ; for I know that one who can avenge 
 terribly, can love devotedly. All passions should 
 be in extremes " 
 
 "And mine are!" ejaculated Luigi. "It was 
 my master's wife — the Countess of Carboni 
 she spurned my services when I would have ren- 
 dered them — she menaced me with betrayal to my 
 lord, and with consequent dismissal : she scorned 
 the humble Luigi as an agent and assistant — and I 
 was avenged — Ob, I was terribly avenged !" 
 
 " And you were right !" exclaimed Zarah. 
 "The more you tell me, the more I admire you. 
 Yes — I love a fervid disposition such as yours ! 
 But proceed, Luigi! — tell me how you accom* 
 plished your vengeance ?" 
 
 " The Countess of Carboni was beloved by an- 
 other — his name was Angelo Marano. He sought 
 me one evening — he told me that he had met the 
 Countess in the neighbouring grove — but that she 
 had indignantly bidden him depart. He was ut- 
 terly unprepared for such a reception : his spirit 
 was chafed — while the spectacle of her enchanting 
 beauty had fired his passions. He swore to possess 
 her ! He put a heavy bribe into my hand, and 
 demanded my co-operation. In the neighbouring 
 cottage of a labourer he penned a billet, — of whictx 
 I became the bearer to the Countess. Methought, 
 from all that he told me of their past love, that 
 she would relent upon perusing it, and that she 
 would yield to the prayer which it contained. But 
 she indignantly burnt it without scanning its con< 
 tents. Then was it that she overwhelmed me with 
 reproaches, and vowed on my lord's return that 
 she would explain my whole conduct. What was 
 I to do?" 
 
 "You had two courses to adopt," exclaimed 
 Zarah boldly : " you had to ensure your own 
 safety in respect to your master, and to punish 
 the haughty lady who would have involved you ia 
 ruin." 
 
 " Oh, how well you comprehend my disposi* 
 tion!" exclaimed Luigi. "Yes — those were the 
 paths which I had to take. And first of all, I 
 saw a means by which I might get that haughty 
 lady into my power : for the note which I had 
 borne distinctly specified that if she sent back no 
 answer, her silence was meant to imply that she 
 would accord the interview which was therein be- 
 sought. So I returned to Angelo Marano ; and 
 I told him that there was no answer. 1 even 
 threw out encouraging words, and represented 
 that my noble mistress had smiled and blushed 
 with pleasure over the contents of his billet." 
 
 " You played your part admirably !" exclaimed
 
 eiIlew pekct; oe, the mesioies oe an acteess. 
 
 215 
 
 Zarali ; " and I repeat, Luigi, I admire a disposi- 
 tion such as your's. Yes, yes — I comprehend ! 
 You had now that haughty lady in your power ; 
 for doubtless the appointment was kept?" 
 
 "Yes," continued the Italian; "and I had hid- 
 den myself in the garden with the intention of 
 bursting into the chamber and surprising them to- 
 gether. Eut the adventure progressed otherwise 
 than I had anticipated : the Count himself was 
 there, unsuspected by me ;— and all of a sudden 
 the casement was burst in— the frantic nobleman 
 had forestalled me in what I myself bad intended 
 to do. In an instant it was over : Angelo Marano 
 was a bleeding corpse ! But you will perceive 
 that this was a tragedy which I myself little ex- 
 pected " 
 
 " And yet you could not blame yourself," ex- 
 claimed Zarab. " O Luigi ! every instant you are 
 becoming more worthy of my love : for there is 
 something sublime and noble in an Italian re- 
 venge !" 
 
 "Ah ! and something fearfully sublime and aw- 
 fully noble in this one," responded Luigi. " The 
 Countess addressed to her husband a letter of ex- 
 planations, especially with regard to the share that 
 
 I myself had taken in the transaction " 
 
 " Oh ! then was your opportunity !" cried Za- 
 rah: "and you told your tale to suit your own 
 purposes, and to confirm the punishment of that 
 
 haughty woman did you not, Luigi ?" 
 
 " Yes— it was thus I told my tale," responded 
 the Italian. " Then followed the scene that you 
 have beheld in that picture which the Count so 
 often gloats over. And I myself painted that 
 picture : for as I have told you before, I was 
 well educated in my youth, and I possess many 
 accomplishments. And for four days and for four 
 nights did that scene endure ; and I, the only 
 confidant of my noble master in the wreaking of 
 his terrific vengeance, conveyed to the apartment 
 a tray of food at stated intervals; and from be- 
 hind the screen which was drawn in front of the 
 door, I obtained a glimpse on each occasion of 
 what was passing within. Now you know every. 
 thing. There is not another secret which my 
 heart cherishes !" 
 
 " Admirable Luigi !" exclaimed Zarah ; " you 
 have done all that I demanded of you. Oh, that 
 was indeed an Italian vengeance!— a vengeance 
 sublime and terrible— and all the more sublime 
 and all the more terrible because the Countess 
 
 was innocent was she not ?" 
 
 "Yes — innocent," replied Luigi : "or else, with- 
 out that innocence, where would have been the 
 ■vengeance? If guilty, it would have dwindled 
 down into a merely righteous punishment. But 
 why do you gaze thus at me ?" — and the Italian 
 suddenly put the question in accents of a vague 
 terror. 
 
 " Why do I thus gaze at you ?" exclaimed 
 Zarah : and I heard her start up from her seat. 
 " Ob, that my eyes could shoot forth lightnings 
 to strike you down, monster of iniquity that you 
 are ! But the truth has been elicited from your 
 
 lips and here is the witness !" added Zarah, as 
 
 she tore open the folding-doors. 
 
 The dismayed astonishment, the rage and the 
 terror, which, all combining, seized upon the mise- 
 rable man, were not however greater than the joy 
 which I experienced at having thus obtained ihe 
 
 means of proving the complete innocence of 
 Beatrice. 
 
 " Ah, there shall be another revenge !" suddenly 
 exclaimed the Italian : and like a tiger he bounded 
 towards Zarah. 
 
 But she was prepared for this ; and instan- 
 taneously springing back, she drew a dagger from 
 her bodice. Her fine form was drawn up to its 
 full height; and with the haughtiest scorn and 
 contempt for her adversary, she said, " Dare ad- 
 vance another step — and this weapon drinks your 
 heart's blood !" 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the look of 
 fiendish rage, mingled with the scowl of utter dis- 
 comfiture, which Luigi flung upon Zarah. He 
 then rushed to the door, and disappeared from cur 
 view. Almost immediately afterwards we heard 
 the front door of the house closing violently : and 
 rushing to the window, we beheld the Italian 
 speeding along the street. Perhaps ignorant of 
 the British laws, he was apprehensive that he 
 might have committed himself to within the scopo 
 of their jurisdiction by the avowals he had made. 
 
 " Zarab," 1 exclaimed, seizing her hand and 
 pressing it with fervour, "you performed your 
 part admirably ! At first L trembled lest you 
 should utterly fail in dragging forth the secrets of 
 that villain's black heart : but when I found him 
 becoming as fervid as he was credulous in his in- 
 fatuation, my opinion changed and I saw that suc- 
 cess was before you. And you Jiave succeeded! — 
 and by a trifling as well as a temporary sacrifice 
 of feeling on your part, you have done that 
 which will infuse happiness into several souls, 
 and render justice to one who has been well nigh 
 crushed beneath the stigma of unmerited shame 
 and the weight of bitterest persecutions. It 
 now remains for me to lead the next scene in this 
 drama of real life. Let us inquire if the Count 
 of Carboni be within ?" 
 
 " He is not," responded Zarah : " for if he 
 were, we should have heard his footsteps either 
 
 below or above Ah ! there is his knock at the 
 
 front door !" 
 
 I issued from the room ; and descending the 
 stairs, met the Count of Carboni jast as he was 
 entering the house. The maid- servant who had 
 opened the door, retreated rapidly along the pas- 
 sage; and without addressing the Count by any 
 name, I said to him, " Pardon the liberty I am, 
 taking— but I beg a few minutes' interview with 
 you." 
 
 " I have the pleasure of knowing you by sight. 
 Miss Trafi'ord," he replied. "I saw you once at 
 the theatre : you appeared on the occasion in the 
 character of Portia." 
 
 I was not at all astonished that he recognised 
 me : for I remembered how attentively he watched 
 me on that particular evening. But scarcely had 
 he finished speaking, when a dark shade came 
 with a sombre scowling expression over his fea- 
 tures : and looking at me with his black piercing 
 eyes, ho said, "What business can you have with 
 
 me ? For if it relate to " He suddenly 
 
 stopped short; and I, fearful lest he should hasten 
 away and refuse me the interview which I craved, 
 quickly responded, " It is concerning your domes- 
 tic Lu'.gi that I wish to speak to you." 
 
 '•'Ah, that is difl'ereut !" he i.aid. Lis counte- 
 nance suddenly losing that depth of sombre
 
 216 
 
 ElLElf PEECT; OH, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 gloum, and recovering its settled sinister expres- 
 sion. " Have the kindness to walk in here. Miss 
 Trafford :" — and he threw open the door of the 
 ground floor parlour. 
 
 " My lord," I began, when we were thus alone 
 together — and be started at being so addressed, — 
 
 "you see that I know who you are^ " 
 
 "Yes — and I suppose that Luigi has been tell- 
 ing you this secret," interjected the Count, " as 
 well as perhaps some others :" — and again were 
 his keen eyes fixed penetratingly upon me, 
 
 "Prepare yourself to learn, my lord," I an- 
 swered, " that the domestic in whom you have evi- 
 dently reposed so much confidence, is a villain of 
 the blackest stamp !" 
 
 " Ah ! is it so ?" muttered the Count, a shade 
 again more darkly lowering over his features. "But 
 tell me, Miss TraiFord— what has ho been saying 
 to you ? and how is it that a young lady of your 
 respectability could have condescended to enter 
 into familiar discourse with a valet f ' 
 
 " Spare your sneers, my lord," I said, with a 
 calm dignity. "Yet I would not wound your 
 feelings more deeply than they must presently be 
 wounded by all that you are to hear from my 
 lips !" 
 
 "M^ feelings indeed!" ejaculated the Count of 
 Carboni, almost in a contemptuous tone ; " as if I 
 had any feelings left to be wounded !— as if they 
 had not been all blunted, crushed, extinguished 
 
 Now, Miss Trafford," he suddenly interrupted 
 
 himself, " there is no need for you to enter upon a 
 long preface before you reveal whatever you may 
 have to impart. There is something in your look 
 which does indeed tell me that you know more of 
 me and my affairs than I could have wished." 
 
 "Yes, my lord— I know everything!" was my 
 answer : and then with the most solemn look and 
 impressive accents, I added, "Yes— and I even 
 know more than you do, my lord : for while you 
 believe your unfortunate wife to be guilty, I have 
 obtained the certainty of her innocence !" 
 
 The thunder- cloud casts not a more gloomy nor 
 ominous shade upon the earth, than the sombre 
 scowl which now appeared upon the countenance 
 of the Italian nobleman. 
 
 "No, it is impossible!" he said, in a deep 
 hoarse voice. " It is as impossible, Miss Trafford, 
 as that the sun at noonday can be black— or that 
 I by a mere wish could transport myself hence a 
 thousand leagues in a moment ! It is impos- 
 sible !" he added vehemently. 
 
 " And 1 declare, my lord, before Grod, that it is 
 true !" I emphatically exclaimed. 
 
 The Count seemed staggered. Again were his 
 penetrating eyes fixed upon me : but now there 
 was a strange uncertain light vibrating in them — 
 while his lips quivered, and there were certain 
 twitchings and workings of his features which 
 showed how strong was the agitation of feelings 
 within his breast. 
 
 "You cannot be ignorant, my lord," I con- 
 tinued, " that I am acquainted with your wife. 
 Y'ou know that a short time back she was to ap- 
 pear at the same theatre where I myself have an 
 engagement; and I may add that it was through 
 
 my introduction " 
 
 " But is this possible ?" gasped forth the Count : 
 and be trembled from head to foot : " can it be 
 posaible that Beatrice is innocent ?" 
 
 " She is innocent, my lord !" I exclaimed ; "and 
 Luigi has confessed everything ! It was he who 
 by the suppression of truth, where it would havo 
 served your injured wife — he who by misrepresen- 
 tation and exaggeration on those points which 
 with a diabolic artifice he could so turn as to tell 
 against her — it was he, I say, who riveted and 
 confirmed all the suspicions which were excited in 
 your mind ! My lord," I continued, "it is impos- 
 sible to blame you under all circumstances for en- 
 tertaining those suspicions : but further than that 
 my sympathy goes not with you. The vengeance 
 you wreaked was frightful and appalling !" 
 
 "Miss Trafford," said the Count of Carboni, in 
 a voice so deep and hollow that it sounded as if it 
 came up from the profundities of a sepulchre, " if 
 Beatrice bo indeed innocent, I have been the 
 greatest wretch— the vilest miscreant that ever 
 wore the human form ! But tell me what Luigi 
 has said — keep me not in this awful suspense^ 
 let me know the precise circumstances of that posi- 
 tion in which I have placed myself !" 
 
 The Count evidently made a powerful effort to 
 maintain a sufficient degree of calmness while he 
 listened to the explanations I had to give. Ho 
 sat down : I also took a chair; and without going 
 back to any of the occurrences in connexion with 
 my acquaintance with Beatrice, I started at once 
 from that point where Luigi's avowals commenced. 
 In short, I detailed everything that within the 
 past hour had been extracted from the lips of that 
 Italian valet. The Count listened with a species 
 of dismayed consternation : his eyea seemed to 
 grow haggard — his cheeks hollow, as he sat in 
 silence, in front of me. 
 
 " And thus, you perceive, my lord," I said, in 
 winding up my statement, " that if Luigi had told 
 the truth on that memorable evening, his words 
 would have proved the innocence of the Countess 
 instead of confirming your suspicions !" 
 
 " My God, it is so !" moaned the wretched 
 nobleman, in a voice so woe-begone and with a 
 look of such ghastly anguish that the spectacle of 
 utter misery could not have been more appalling 
 if a death-sentence had just been pronounced 
 upon him. " Yes — I now comprehend it all 
 The letter which Beatrice wrote to me, contained 
 the most truthful details : and it was the villany 
 of Luigi that blinded me to that truth ! But, oh ! 
 I will be terribly avenged !" he exclaimed, spring- 
 ing up from his seat ; " and with his life the 
 wretch shall pay the penalty of his black iniquities!" 
 
 The Count was rushing towards the door, when 
 I caught him by the arm, crying, " Unhappy man ! 
 do you dare speak again of vengeance, when the 
 bare word itself ought to strike terror into your 
 heart and make you quiver from head to foot ? 
 Luigi is not here !— he has fled— and I question 
 whether he will ever dare return !" 
 
 The Count had gone back to his seat ; and there 
 he remained for a few moments, gazing upon me 
 with a look of dull vacant despair. His features 
 were now rigid ; and there was a ghastly paleness, 
 dead and inanimate, upon the natural swarthiness 
 of his complexion. All of a sudden he started up, 
 wringing his hands, and exclaiming, " Beatrice— 
 poor Beatrice ! how feari'ully have you suffered ! 
 And I, miscreant that I have been — with less com- 
 passion than a fiend — with less mercy than a 
 demon !"
 
 ELLEX PEKCY ; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS, 
 
 217 
 
 Then he again sank upon the chair : he burst 
 into an agony of weeping — he sobbed like a child. 
 Thus for some minutes he remained ; and I spoke 
 not a word. At length the violence of his afflic- 
 tion subsided somewhat; and accosting me, he 
 said in a low deep voice, " Tell me, Miss Trafford, 
 what am I to do? what reparation can I 
 make ?" 
 
 " It is not of me, my lord," I responded, " that 
 you are to usk these questions. Kneeling at the 
 feet of your injured wife, and in the presence of 
 ber relations, should you put them !" 
 
 " Yes, yes !" exclaimed the Count ; " there is 
 no atonement that I would not make ! But Ah ! 
 first of all there is one thing to be done !" — and 
 again he rushed as if madly towards the door. 
 
 " What would you do ?" I asked, again seizing^ 
 him by the arm: for I dreaded lest in his present 
 fearfully excited state of mind he should accom- 
 No. 28.— Ellen Teect. 
 
 plisU some rash act which would only plunge him 
 into still deeper misery. 
 
 He turned upon me a countenance in thi 
 expression of which horror and anguish were 
 hideously mingled ; and he said in a hoarse voice, 
 " That picture. Miss Trafiford, to which you have 
 alluded — that picture which the villain Luigi ad- 
 I mitted to you that he himself had painted — that 
 picture over which, with shame and sorrow I 
 admit, I have gloated — it must be destroyed !" 
 "Yes— go," I said, "my lord, and destroy it !" 
 He hurried from the room; and I sat down— 
 for I felt exhausted by the excitement of the 
 painful scene which had been taking place. Yet 
 in one sense there was the liveliest joy in my 
 heart : for the innocence of Beatrice was recog- 
 nised by her husband. Yes — most unequivocally 
 recognised !— and I saw that he was prtparcd to 
 proclaicn it in the presence of that injured wife of
 
 218 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3. 
 
 his and in that of her relatives. Oh ! the reader 
 may comprehend the satisfaction that I thus ex- 
 perienced in having brought this important pro- 
 ceeding to so successful an issue. 
 
 In a few minutes the door opened ; and the 
 Count reappeared. His look was now calmer, but 
 full of mournfulness : his conscience seemed to be 
 partially relieved of the weight which had rested 
 upon it from the moment that his eyes were 
 opened to the conviction of his wife's innocence. 
 
 " The picture is destroyed, Miss Trafford !" he 
 said, closing the door behind Jiitn. " First of all 
 I took it forth from the portfolio in which I was 
 wont to keep it: I trampled it under foot— in my 
 rage and fury I defaced with the heels of my boots 
 the horrible delineations that were there — then I 
 tore it into a thousand fragments — and finally I 
 burnt them all — watching until the last spark 
 died out of the last piece of shrivelled tinder !" 
 
 It was thus in an excited manner that the 
 Count of Carboni spoke. It seemed to me as if 
 — though comparatively calm now to what his 
 state of mind was ere he left the room — he could 
 not possibly subdue himself ihto complete tran- 
 quillity. His disposition was alike mercurial and 
 sombre : his feelings were as easily acted upon as 
 the wires of a galvanic battery hj an electric 
 spark; but the eifect with him was far from being 
 80 transitory. I saw that he was one of those 
 men who in their madness could do frightful 
 deeds — but in whose remorse there #as a tinge of 
 that same madness still. Thus I trembled for the 
 consequences ; because I knew that though the 
 lips of Beatrice might pronounce the word " par- 
 don," yet that never again could she consort with 
 a man who had persecuted her so diijbolically. 
 Nevertheless, whatever those consequences might 
 be, it was of paramount importance that an inter- 
 view should take place between that man and his 
 injured wife in the presence of her relatives, in 
 order that her innocence might be effectually pro- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Now, my lord," I said, " will you come with 
 me?" 
 
 He understood what I meant ; and be ex- 
 claimed, " Yes — Oh, yea ! I now yearn to accom- 
 plish that duty which is the first of the atonements 
 that I have to make !" 
 
 " But undefstand me well, my lord," I em- 
 phatically said : " it is the onli/ atonement you 
 have to make ! Proclaim the innocence of your 
 wife — and you will have done as much as under 
 existing circumstances it is in your power to 
 accomplish. It is not by any rash deed, such as 
 by avenging yourself upon Luigi — nor by any 
 self-inflicted punishment — that you will prove 
 your contrition or administer balm to the wounded 
 spirit of Beatrice." 
 
 " Come, Miss Trafford," said the nobleman, who 
 appeared to have listened somewhat impatiently 
 to my words, and who offered no comment upon 
 them. 
 
 We issued forth together ; and we proceeded in 
 a cab to the house v;here Beatrice dwelt with the 
 Marquis and Marchioness of CampanoUa. I 
 stopped the cab at a short distance ; and alighting, 
 I said to the Count, " Suffer me, my lord, to pre- 
 cede you at an interval of a few raiuutcs, su that I 
 mity prepare them for the interview which is about 
 to take place." 
 
 "Yes— a few minutes!" ejaculated the Count 
 impatiently : and it really seemed as if he could 
 neither speak nor act except under the influence 
 of a constitutional excitement. 
 
 I entered the house : I found the Marquis and 
 Marchioness alone together in the drawing-room ; 
 for Beatrice was in her own chamber. 
 
 "Now at length," I said, "the project which I 
 had in hand, and concerning which I have so 
 steadily abstained from giving you any details, has 
 reached a successful termination! The villain 
 Luigi, who is in London, has confessed everything : 
 the Count of Carboni is satisfied of the innocence 
 of his much injured wife; and he is coming to 
 proclaim it. In a few minutes he will be here !" 
 
 The Marchioness embraced me with fervour: 
 the Marquis pressed my hand; — and both were 
 profoundly affected. I requested her ladyship to 
 hasten and prepare Beatrice for the interview 
 that was about to take place. She retired accord- 
 ingly ; and during her brief absence, I entered 
 into some particulars with the Marqtiis. Pre- 
 sently the Marchioness returned to the room, 
 accompanied by her sister ; and the latter, bound- 
 ing forward, caught me in her arms, exclaiming 
 that she had every reason to love me also as a 
 sister. Scarcely bad Beatrice regained some 
 little degree of composure, when the door was 
 thrown open, and a domestic announced the name 
 of the Count of Carboni. 
 
 The servant immediately retired : the Count 
 threw himself upon his knees at the feet of 
 Beatrice— his face bent downward : ho dared not 
 look up into her own. A deadly pallor overspread 
 fbe countenance of Beatrice : she staggered back 
 a pace or two — but the Marchioness arid myself 
 •^ete close at hand to sostain her. A rapid 
 glance which I flung towards (We Marqtiis, showed 
 me how strong a sense of loathirig for the wretched 
 Count was depicted upofl Ms features : but it was 
 with a veritable horror that Beatrice looked down 
 upon the kneeling, self-abasing form of her hus- 
 band. And no wonder ! For could she avoid 
 thinking at the moment of that frightful period 
 when he was locked in the room at the chateau, 
 along with herself and the ignominiously sus- 
 pended corpse of Angelo Marano ? 
 
 "Beatrice, you are innocent!" exclaimed the 
 Count of Carboni. " I proclaim you to be inno- 
 cent ! But as for i/our forgiveness " 
 
 He stopped short : he slowly raised his eyes 
 towards the countenance of his wife; and then he 
 passionately exclaimed, "Oh, I see that it is im- 
 possible you can forgive me !" 
 
 It was now that Beatrice, exercising the 
 strongest control over her feelings, said in a clear 
 but tremulous voice, " Yes — I forgive you ! But 
 understand me well, my lord ! Everything is at 
 an end between us ! I am your wife only in 
 name — and never more may wo dwell together !" 
 
 " I dared not expect it, Beatrice," answered the 
 Count. " I scarcely dared even expect that you 
 would forg? ve me ! I thank you — heaven knows 
 that from the bottom of my heart I thank you! 
 And now farewell for ever !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Count bent one lin- 
 gering look of utter misery upon his wife; and he 
 then hurried from the room. None of us chose 
 to make a movement to detain him. Wliat had 
 we to say ? wherefore should we prolong a scene
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEES8. 
 
 219 
 
 whicb, though it had lasted but a few minutes, 
 was painful enough ? 
 
 There was a long interval of silence; and it 
 was broken by a repetition of the most grateful 
 expressions and affectionate assurances towards 
 mjself. I described how the confession of Luigi 
 had been elicited — but without compromising 
 Zarah by name, or speaking of her otherwise than 
 as a young female in whom I was interested, and 
 who had consented to sacrifice her own feelings 
 somewhat in order to accomplish the task which 
 I had entrusted to her. On taking my leave of 
 Beatrice and her relations, it was with a sense of 
 the supremest satisfaction in having been enabled 
 to minister to their happiness. 
 
 On the following day I called at an early hour 
 upon Zarah ; for I was anxious to learn whether 
 Luigi had reappeared, and also whether the Count 
 of Carboni had indicated a continuance of a 
 morbid state of excitement. In respect to the 
 first point I learnt that the perfidious valet had 
 not shown himself at the house since ho fled on 
 the preceding day : but as for the Count, he bad 
 returned thither after his visit with me to the 
 mansion of the Marquis — he had ordered his 
 eflfects to be packed up— and be had suddenly de- 
 parted, Zarah knew not whither. 
 
 I thence proceeded to the bouse of the Mar- 
 quis; and there important tidings awaited rae. 
 A solicitor had called at the mansion about half- 
 an-hour previously: he had inquired for the 
 Countess of Carboni ; and he had placed in her 
 hands a deed which he said her husband had in- 
 structed him to draw up with all possible despatch. 
 Its purport was to make over to Beatrice at least 
 nine- tenths of his large fortune; so that while 
 the Count thus suddenly enriched his wife, he 
 retained for himself a very moderate income. 
 The deed invested her with the possession of all 
 the Count's Italian domains, with theio»e excep- 
 tion of the chateau and estate of Carboni in the 
 south of Tuscany near the Roman frontier. 
 Having made Beatrice acquainted with the out- 
 lines of the deed, the solicitor had informed her 
 that bis lordship her husband intended to retire 
 altogether from the world and bury himself in 
 some remote seclusion. 
 
 Such was the intelligence which awaited me. I 
 farther learnt that Beatrice had at first hesitated 
 to accept the deed from the solicitor's hands ; but 
 that her scruples were overruled by the represen- 
 tations of her sister and her brother-in-law, who 
 made her comprehend that there was no necessity 
 for her to refuse this proof of her husband's pro- 
 found sorrow for the past and of his anxiety to 
 make every possible atonement. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 MAKT GLENTWOKTH. 
 
 TTpwaeds of three months passed from the inci- 
 dents which I have just been relating. It was 
 now verging towards the close of June in the year 
 1841 : and I was nineteen years of age. Ten 
 months had elapsed since the mock-marriage 
 which had afforded Juliet a temporary happiness, 
 and had subsequently plunged her into so much 
 
 misery. The time was close at hand when she 
 was to become a mother. There was likewise now 
 a vacation in the theatrical world ; and I received 
 a very kind letter from Mrs. Oldcastle, requesting 
 me to spend it at River House. She intimated 
 that she would thereby not merely enjoy the plea- 
 sure of my society, but that Juliet would have her 
 dearest friend near her in the hour of her trial. 
 Mr. Norman received at the same time a letter 
 from Mrs. Oldcastle, suggesting that it would be 
 more expedient for himself and his wife to con- 
 tinue to keep away from the abode whero their 
 daughter had found a home, as their presence at 
 River House would only multiply the chances 
 of Juliet's identity being discovered. 'For at 
 that house and in that neighbourhood she was 
 passing under the name of Mrs. Hall — a hint 
 having been dropped that her husband was 
 abroad. 
 
 In consequence of these letters, it was agreed 
 that Mr. and Mrs. Norman should go and pass the 
 vacation at their favourite watering-place. Rams- 
 gate ; while I was to repair to River House. I 
 did not exactly know what to do with Beda : I 
 did not like to leave her alone with the servants in 
 Hunter Street ; I did not choose to consign her 
 to the care of Zarah, for fear lest the gipsy's old 
 grandmother should chance to behold her there, 
 and repenting of having lost her, endeavour to 
 entice her away again ; and I did not of course 
 feel inclined to take her with me to River House, 
 unless with the consent of Mrs. Oldcastle. I had 
 every faith in Beda's sincerity as well as kindness 
 of disposition : but still I saw that it would be 
 improper to intrust her with Juliet's secret. The 
 difficulty was however solved by Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman volunteering to take her with them to 
 Ramsgate. 
 
 Beda was much distressed when I told her that 
 we must temporarily separate ; and though I 
 spoke most kindly to her, yet she fell at my feet ; 
 and with the tears standing in her large lustrous 
 eyes, she asked in a voice tremulous with emotion 
 whether I had any reason to be displeased with 
 her ? I embraced the poor girl, — assuring her that 
 during the four months she had been in my ser- 
 vice, I had never once regretted our acquaintance 
 — that I was sorry to part with her even for a 
 few weeks — but that I was going to stay with a 
 lady who was very particular, and who did not like 
 to have strangers in her household. Beda was 
 comforted ; and she agreed to follow Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman to Ramsgate. 
 
 But there was another matter of even greater 
 importance, which at first gave me some little 
 difficulty and uneasiness. At the very time that 
 I received Mrs. Oldcastle's kind letter, the post 
 brought me an nfi'dctionate and joyously written 
 one from Henry Wakefield. The business which 
 had so long detained him in the United States, 
 was verging towards its completion : he had suc- 
 ceeded in recovering all the moneys due to Mr. 
 Macdonald, the Paisley manufacturer ; and it was 
 his intention to return to his native country with 
 the least possible delay. He farther informed me 
 that on his arrival at Liverpool, he should as a 
 matter of course in the first instance repair to 
 Paisley, where he hoped to find letters from me ; 
 but that the very instant he had settled his ac- 
 counts with Mr. Macdonald, he should speed to
 
 220 
 
 ELtEir FESCT; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 London to fold me in his arms. This letter, as 
 well as the numerous preceding ones I had re- 
 ceived from Harry, breathed the purest love and 
 the most unchanging afifection ; and I wept with 
 a blissful pleasure over the epistle as I held it in 
 my hands. 
 
 But what course was I to adopt ? If Henry 
 Wakefield were to arrive in London during my 
 absence at Eiver House, he would assuredly set off 
 after me on finding I was not in Hunter Street; 
 and thus sooner or later it would be impossible to 
 conceal Juliet's secret from his knowledge. That 
 secret was not my own ; and I was bound to shield 
 it to the utmost of my ability. At length, after 
 much reflection, I resolved how to act. I wrote 
 a letter — directed to Henry, to the care of Mr. 
 Macdonald at Paisley— wherein I requested my 
 cousin to send me an anssver announcing his arri- 
 val the instant he received it, so that I might have 
 the satisfaction of being assured of his safety. 
 The servants in Hunter Street knew that I was 
 about to pay a visit to Eiver House near Dover : 
 they knew likewise that Juliet was there — but 
 they were ignorant of her situation. I gave them 
 express orders that all letters whieh might arrive 
 for me, should be at once posted to Eiver House. 
 By this arrangement I calculated that if I re- 
 ceived a letter from Henry while there, I could 
 hasten up to London and thus be in Hunter Street 
 before he was likely to reach the metropolis — as I 
 had no doubt that business matters would detain 
 him a day or two in Paisley after his arrival in 
 Great Britain. I felt hurt, and even shocked, at 
 being compelled to have recourse to what appeared 
 to me a certain degree of petty manoeuvring : but 
 it was all for Juliet's sake, and to guard against 
 the possibility of her secret being discovered by 
 any sudden and unexpected visit on the part of 
 my cousin at Eiver House. 
 
 But before I dismiss the present subject I must 
 state that the moment had now come when it was 
 absolutely necessary for me to reveal to Harry 
 that Ellen Percy and the celebrated Miss Trafford 
 were one and the same person. Though upwards 
 of nine months had elapsed since he set out on his 
 trans-atlantic voyage — and though a constant cor- 
 respondence had been maintained between us — yet 
 had I lacked the moral courage to make the com- 
 plete revelation, I had however in my letters, 
 under the guise of gossiping information, recorded 
 a variety of facts to disabuse him of his prejudice 
 against the stage and the dramatic world in 
 general. I had thus prepared him for the final 
 announcement : but still that announcement itself 
 had not as yet been made. It was now impossible 
 to delay it any longer ; and I accordingly included 
 it in the letter which I addressed to him under 
 cover to the manufacturer at Paisley. It was 
 through no sentiment of idle vaniPj? — but in order 
 to gratify him, if possible, with the knowledge of 
 the fame whicli I had acquired — that I enclosed in 
 the letter several critiques from the leading news- 
 papers upon my performance ; and this I did all 
 the more willingly, inasmuch as in those critiques 
 there were frequent allusions to me as " a young 
 lady whoso unimpeachable character and personal 
 beauty were only equalled by her genius as the 
 greatest actress of the day." I likewise informed 
 Harry in this letter that I was in the receipt of 
 upwards of a thousand a yeac, with every prospect 
 
 of this income being shortly doubled ; and that 
 my savings were therefore already considerable. 
 I delicately hinted that my cousin therefore 
 need have no care for the future, inasmuch as it 
 mattered not in an alliance with two fond hearts 
 from which side riches emanated. 
 
 All preparations being complete, I set out on my 
 visit to Eiver House. I accompanied Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman in the steam-vessel to Eamsgate ; 
 and thence on the following day I proceeded alone 
 by the coach to Dover. It was at about the hour 
 of noon when I reached the last-mentioned place ; 
 and as the weather in that month of June was 
 charming and delicious, I determined to walk to 
 Eiver House, which was only about a mile and a 
 half distant. Leaving my luggage therefore to the 
 care of the carrier, who was to bring it to its desti- 
 nation in the course of the afternoon, I set out. 
 
 I was soon beyond the precincts of the town of 
 Dover ; and when at a distance of about a mile, I 
 thought of assuring myself by inquiry that I was 
 in the nearest route to River House. I was at- 
 tracted by a beautiful little cottage-residence, 
 where the roses were blushing over the portico, 
 and where the open windows afforded a glimpse of 
 the neatly furnished parlours. This cottage stood 
 in the midst of a garden, where there were the 
 most beautiful flowers scattered over the well-kept 
 parterres, — between which the gravel walks were 
 wcy rolled^ an'', shining in the sunbeams. Tbo 
 garden-gate stood open ; and I entered. I was 
 about to accost an old gardener whom I beheld at 
 a little distance, busily engaged in his occupation, 
 — when a glance in the opposite direction revealed 
 to my view a young lady seated at work in a 
 summer-house. This summer-house was formed of 
 wood painted green : its architecture was quaint ; 
 and with the jasmine and clematis that twined up 
 the trellis-work over it, mingled with festooning 
 roses, it had a sweetly picturesque appearance. 
 
 The young lady did not immediately observe 
 me as my feet trod noiselessly over a grass-plat by 
 which the arbour was approached; and I there- 
 fore had an opportunity of contemplating that 
 pleasing picture before I made my presence 
 known. The occupant of the summer-house was 
 apparently about my own age— namely, nineteen. 
 Her dress v?as characterized by mingled neatness 
 and elegance. A profusion of light brown ringlets 
 escaped from beneath a beautiful little French 
 cap, and fell upon her shoulders. The corsage of her 
 light summer dress was open down to the waist : 
 but a habit-shirt was modestly closed up to the 
 throat. Her countenance had an expression of the 
 chastest innocence and of the purest thoughts : her 
 compleyion was fair — but upon her cheeks bloomed 
 the rose-hues of health. "While thus seated at her 
 work, she seemed to be of the medium stature— 
 symmetrically and finely formed — with the well- 
 rounded contours of a country-girl constantly in- 
 haling the fresh breeze, with its invigorating ad- 
 mixture of the saline properties afforded by the 
 close vicinage of the sea. 
 
 While I stood contemplating this young lady, 
 she laid down her work to take up a book ; and 
 it was at this instant that her eyes encountered 
 mine. And what beautiful eyes were those that 
 were thus raised towards me ! — eyes of a clear 
 liquid blue, only a shade darker than azure— full 
 of softness, and yet with a proper animation.
 
 She at once rose from her seat, and cama forward, 
 tripping lightly down the two little steps by which 
 the entrance of the bower was reached. A smile 
 appeared upon her beautifully formed inoutb, as if 
 expressing her readiness to render me any service 
 in her power. 
 
 " I have to apologize most sincerely," I said, 
 " for my intrusion. I had merely intended to put 
 an inquiry to your gardener : but on happening to 
 perceive that this beautiful summer-house was oc- 
 cupied, I was encouraged to address myself to 
 you." 
 
 " And I am sure I am very much pleased !" re- 
 plied the young lady, in a frank cordial tone. 
 " But pray do not stand in the sun ! Come in 
 and rest yourself ; for I see," she added, glancing 
 down at the skirt of my dress, " that you have 
 been walking along the dusty road." 
 
 " Only from Dover," I observed, as I accepted 
 the young lady's invitation and followed her into 
 the summer-house, where we sat down together. 
 " I am on my way to a place which can be at no 
 great distance — I mean Eiver House." 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Oldcastle's," said the young lady. 
 "You are not far off— about half-a-mile — and I 
 shall presently have the pleasure of indicating a 
 pathway through the fields. But let me offer you 
 some refreshment — some wine-and-water " 
 
 " !N^othing, I thank you. I shall soon bo at my 
 destination." 
 
 " Oh ! but you must taste our fine strawberries," 
 exclaimed the young lady, with as much artless 
 ingenuous cordiality as if our acquaintance had 
 been one of weeks or months instead of minutes; 
 and before I could stop her, she had bounded 
 down the steps, and was gliding across the grass- 
 plat, which her beautifully shaped feet seemed 
 scarcely to touch. 
 
 She was gone therefore before I could ejaculate 
 a syllable to detain her. I mechanically took up 
 the book which lay upon a bench; and to my sur- 
 prise I found that it was one of those editions 
 of Shakspere which contain only the particular 
 dramas that may be read without offence to the 
 modesty. I saw that several passages had pencil- 
 marks against them, as if indicative ot the reader's 
 admiration and for more easy reference in future. 
 The parts thus noted bore strong testimony to the 
 taste of whomsoever had made them ; and I won- 
 dered whether I might therewith associate my 
 charming new acquaintance. On the fly-leaf of 
 the book was written, in a sweet feminine hand, 
 the name of Mary Glentworth, 
 
 I had scarcely time to put down the volume, 
 when the young lady came tripping back to the 
 summer-house, with a quantity of large freshly- 
 gathered strawberries piled up on a plate which 
 she bad made of vine leaves, and which she held 
 ia her two fair white hands. 
 
 "There!" she said, as she deposited her little 
 burden upon the table: "you must do me the 
 pleasure to taste them — they are so refreshing! I 
 tried to see if I could find an apricot for you— but 
 they are not yet quite ripe." 
 
 There was something so cordial, so ingenuous, 
 and frank-hearted in the young lady's manner, 
 that I felt as if I had already known her for a 
 considerable time ; and in order to please her, I 
 partook of the fruit. 
 
 " Oh ! you have been looking at my book," she 
 
 exclaimed, perceiving that it was removed from 
 the spot where she had left it. " When I am tired 
 of working " 
 
 " I hope there was no indiscretion," I said, " in 
 glancing into the volume " 
 
 " Indiscretion ? — no ! " cried the young lady, 
 opening her beautiful large eyes still more widely 
 in evident astonishment at my observation. " What 
 harm could there possibly be in looking at a book 
 which anybody may read — and which I am sure," 
 she added emphatically, " everybody who can read 
 otiffht to read !" 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated : " this is your book ?" and 
 therefore I was at once convinced that she was 
 Mary Glentworth herself; and I was pleased to 
 have ascertained her name. " Shakspere, I sup- 
 pose, is a favourite of your's ?" 
 
 " If I were a silly romantic girl," replied Miss 
 Glentworth, laughing, " I should exclaim in a 
 paroxysm of enthusiam that I adore Sbakspere. 
 But to speak in more moderate language, I may 
 state that I take a greater pleasure in reading his 
 works than those of any other author. I would 
 give the world to see one of his plays represented 
 on the stage ! And if I dared envy any one — 
 whom do you think I most envy on the face of the 
 earth ?" 
 
 " I cannot possibly tell," I said, smiling. 
 
 " Well, then, I will enlighten you in respect to 
 these whimsical ideas of mine," continued Miss 
 Glentworth, in the same spirit of frank and 
 friendly good humour. " I would sooner be Miss 
 Trafford than any Queen that is seated upon a 
 throne ! I have read so much about her in the 
 newspapers and literary reviews, that I not only 
 admire her genius, but also her beauty of person 
 and her general character. Yet I have never seen 
 her Have you .'"' she somewhat abruptly in- 
 quired. 
 
 I thought it unnecessary to tell the young lady 
 who I was; for I did not wish to direct more 
 attention than I could help to Eiver House, where 
 I was about to sojourn, for fear lest I should mul- 
 tiply the chances of Juliet's secret being dis- 
 covered. I therefore said somewhat evasively, 
 "Yes — I have seen her occasionally. But now. 
 Miss Gleutwortb, I must take my leave of 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, do not go for a few minutes !" she ex- 
 claimed. "We are just touching upon a topic 
 that is so interesting to me! You can tell mo 
 about Miss Trafford " 
 
 " Another time. Miss Glentworth," I answered : 
 " for I am going to stay a few weeks in this neigh- 
 bourhood — and rest assured that after the kind 
 reception you have given me, I shall not fail to 
 pay my respects to you again. Perhaps, however, 
 you know Mrs. Oldcastle ? — you visit at River 
 House .''" — and yet even as I ' spoke I thought it 
 could scarcely be so; for if it were, Juliet would 
 hardly have failed to mention in her letters that 
 she had formed the acquaintance of so sweet and 
 amiable a being as Mary Glentworth. 
 
 "I only know Mrs. Oldcastle by sight," she re- 
 plied. " Mamma does not visit any one in the 
 neighbourhood : she tells me that she is not fond 
 of society ; — and as I have no friends nor com- 
 panions, I am thrown entirely on my own re- 
 sources. These however do not fail me : for be- 
 tween my work and my books and a few little
 
 222 
 
 ELIii:]T PEECT; OE, THE MEITOIES OV AK ACTEESS. 
 
 household duties, I always contrive to occupy my- 
 self." 
 
 " And you will permit me to renew my visit," I 
 said ; '• and on a future occasioa I will tell you 
 more of Miss TrafiFord." 
 
 I then took my leave of my new acquaintance, 
 in whom I felt deeply interested. She indicated 
 the path through the fields which led towards i 
 River House ; and as I was proceeding to my des- 
 tination, I kept thinking of Mary Glentworth. 
 As she had spoken only of her mother and had 
 made no mention of her father, I concluded that 
 he was dead ; and I was somewhat surprised that 
 she should have formed no acquaintances in the 
 neighbourhood. It could not be from poverty, in- 
 asmuch as she herself was well dressed — and the 
 cottage, with its large garden, could only have been 
 in the occupation of a lady enjoying a competency. 
 However, I resolved to inquire more about her 
 when I should have an opportunity of speaking to 
 Mrs. Oldcastle at Eiver House. 
 
 My destination was reached ; and I found that 
 Mrs. Oldcastle's abode was— as it bad been repre- 
 sented to me — somewhat in the cottage-style, not 
 spacious but commodious, and furnished in a 
 handsome old-fashioned manner. It had a good 
 garden attached — besides stables and outhouses, — 
 everything, in short, denoting ample means on the 
 part of its proprietress. I was cordially welcomed 
 by that lady herself; and fervid was the embrace 
 in which I was strained by Juliet. Upwards of 
 four months had elapsed since last I saw my dear 
 friend Miss iJforman; and I was delighted to per- 
 ceive by her looks that she was not suffering much 
 iu her spirits, but was bearing up with fortitude 
 against the sense of the foul wrong she had sus- 
 t iined on the part of Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliflfe. 
 
 I soon had an opportunity of speaking to Mrs- 
 Oldcastle about Mary Glentworth ; and the mo- 
 ment I mentioned her name, I perceived to my 
 surprise that a dark shade came over the old lady's 
 countenance. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," she said, " from all I have 
 beard. Miss Glentworth is an amiable girl — and 
 she is greatly to be pitied." 
 
 " Pitied ! — in what respect ?" I exclaimed, 
 astonished and grieved at the answer just given. 
 
 " Do not ask me too many questions, my dear 
 Ellen," rejoined Mrs. Oldcastle. " It is not a 
 subject proper to be discussed by a young lady 
 like yourself. Suffice it for you to know that 
 Mary Glentworth is suffering from the effects of a 
 mother's fault." 
 
 " Poor girl !" I murmured : and so deeply was 
 I moved on her behalf that I felt the tears trick- 
 ling down my cheeks. 
 
 "Yes," continued Mrs. Oldcastle, " she is indeed 
 to be pitied : — but what can be done? Society is 
 imperious with its Taws. You see, my dear EUen, 
 that even in the case of your friend, my grand- 
 niece Juliet, we are compelled to take all kinds of 
 precautions, though she is really far from being 
 criminal — she has been infamously betrayed — and 
 her's is a pure misfortune without the slightest 
 scintillation of guilt. But it was different with 
 Mary Glentworth's mother — and the poor girl 
 suffers accordingly." 
 
 " Yet she herself must be ignorant of her 
 mother's false position," I said ; " for she spoke as 
 
 if it was Mrs. Glentworth herself who voluntarily 
 avoided society, instead of being shunned by it. 
 
 Yes — Mary Glentworth is really ignorant " 
 
 " It may be so — and perhaps it is," said Mrs. 
 Oldcastle. " But this much I can tell you, that 
 Mrs. Glentworth, as she calls herself, is every now 
 and then visited by a gentleman to whom she ia 
 indebted for the' income she enjoys. This at least 
 
 is indelicate " 
 
 " But are you sure," I inquired, " that there is 
 anything really improper in those visits ? — have 
 you the certainty that it is not some relative or 
 very dear friend concerning whom scandal may 
 have busied itself? So far as my knowledge of the 
 world extends — and so far as I have the power of 
 fathoming and appreciating the human character 
 — I feel convinced that Mary Glentworth must 
 have been brought up with the strictest propriety ; 
 for she is all artlessness, candour, and inno- 
 cence." 
 
 " It may be so," observed Mrs. Oldcastle, re- 
 peating that phrase which seemed to imply un- 
 charitable doubt and mistrust : or at least I 
 thought so— and it was a phrase which I did not 
 like. 
 
 "There can be no doubt," continued the old 
 lady, " of Mrs. Glentworth's position ; and as I 
 have already told you so much, I will tell you a 
 little more, Ellen — because I see that you have 
 an inclination to cultivate M'ss Glentworth's ac- 
 quaintance, and you must not do so. Some years 
 ago — it may be perhaps ten or eleven — Mrs. 
 Glentworth was residing, with her daughter, who 
 was then of course a child, at Hastings. There 
 she moved in excellent society — passing as a 
 widow; and as her manners are very ladylike, and 
 she is even still handsome, she was a general 
 favourite. Her conduct was moreover so circum- 
 spect — at least to- all outward appearance— that 
 no one entertained the slightest idea that her 
 character was in reality equivocal. But one day, 
 while she was walking with some of her fashionable 
 acquaintances, a gentleman — I do not think I 
 ever heard his name — or if I did I have forgotten 
 it However, it was a gentleman who had only 
 just arrived from London; and he immediately 
 recognised in Mrs. Glentworth the mistress of a 
 friend of his— or rather I should say, such had 
 been her position a few years previously. I do 
 not exactly know what ensued, or how the dis- 
 agreeable incident terminated at the time : but 
 very certain it is that Mrs. Glentworth speedily 
 quitted Hastings and came to settle in this neigh- 
 bourhood. She had the good taste to avoid 
 making overtures towards the society here, — well 
 aware perhaps that her evil reputation could not 
 fail to follow her " 
 
 " The tale," I observed, "has two features which 
 strike me as somewhat extraordinary. In the first 
 place why did Mrs. Glentworth come into a neigh- 
 bourhood which is only so short a distance from 
 that where her exposure took place? — and why did 
 she not at least assume another name ?" 
 
 '•' Perhaps," answered Mrs. Oldcastle, " she 
 wished after that exposure to seclude herself as it 
 were from the world, and make no further attempts 
 to get into society, but to accept her position as a 
 lost and degraded woman. If this be the solution 
 of the mystery which seems to bewilder you, it 
 will account for both your questions. Besides, you
 
 ELIES PESCT; OE, the MEM0IE8 OP AS ACTEES8. 
 
 =-523 
 
 must remember that at the time when the unplea- 
 sant incifknt occurred at Hastings, Mary Glent- 
 worth was a girl old enough to know the name 
 which her mother and herself had been accustomed 
 to bear; and any change of name would have ex- 
 cited Mary's surprise — while it would have also 
 been a circumstance which a young girl could 
 scarcely have been tutored to keep as a profound 
 secret. And now, Ellen, I have told you enough 
 to make you comprehend that you cannot with 
 propriety repeat your visit to that cottage, nor 
 cultivate the acquaintance of Miss Glentworth." 
 
 I said no more upon the subject : but I was 
 much afflicted at the tale I had beard and at the 
 injunctions which I bad just received — and all the 
 more so because I could not fail to recognise the 
 necessity of acting in obedience to the latter. 
 
 Four days after my arrival at Eiver House, 
 Juliet Norman became the mother of a son; and 
 when she pressed her babe to her bosom, she 
 seemed to forget awhile, in the joy and pride of 
 maternity, the circumstances of sorrow which had 
 preceded and of mystery which attended the birth 
 of her offspring. I wrote to Mrs. Norman to 
 acquaint her with the secret, and to assure both 
 her and her husband that they need not entertain 
 the slightest apprehension in reference to Juliet's 
 health : and in order that the servants might not 
 entertain a suspicion by seeing the address of this 
 letter, I took it myself to the post-office at Dover. 
 I should here observe, in explanation of my pre- 
 ceding remark, that of Mrs. Oldcastle's domestic 
 household only the lady's-maid and the footman 
 who had accompanied her to London were aware 
 that Juliet's real name was Norman instead of 
 Hall ; and on their discretion Mrs. Oldcastle could 
 place the strictest reliance. 
 
 The return of post brought a reply from Mrs. 
 Norman, expressing her own and her husband's 
 gratification to learn that Juliet was progressing 
 80 favourably ; and desiring me to thank Mrs. 
 Oldcastle on their behalf for all hsr kindness 
 towards their daughter, ilrs. Norman's letter 
 went on to touch upon other matters, giving me 
 certain information which caused me some alarm 
 and uneasiness. The special paragraphs to which 
 I am now alluding were as follow : — 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I cannot send you a 
 very good account of the conduct of Beda, whose 
 proceedings are alike irregular and mysterious. 
 She frequently absents herself for hours together ; 
 and when questioned by myself or Mr. Norman, 
 she either gazes with her large dark eyes fixed 
 upon us with unintelligible meaning — or else she 
 simply says that ' she has no explanation to give 
 except to her mistress, Miss Percy.' Last evening 
 she thus absented herself at about six o'clock, and 
 did not return until past eleven. We sat up 
 for her, full of anxiety and alarm lest some acci- 
 dent should have befallen her, or that she had ab- 
 sconded altogether. When she returned to the 
 house, she glided up to her own chamber, though 
 positively told that Mr. Norman and myself were 
 desirous to speak to her: and when we just now 
 questioned her in respect to these improper and 
 intolerable proceedings, she again replied simply 
 ' that she would explain herself only to her young 
 mistress, Miss Percy.' I remonstrated with her 
 very strongly on her conduct,* and threatened to 
 write to you. Then her large eyes lighted up with 
 
 an expression which really seemed to be one of joy 
 instead of apprehension and alarm. You see, my 
 dear Ellen, it is impossible for us to do anything 
 with Seda under these circumstances ; and it is all 
 the more inconvenient because the landlady of the 
 house where we are lodging, has made representa- 
 tions on the point. I hope, in the name of heaven, 
 that Beda has not fallen in with bad company ; but 
 in any case it is a matter on which I could not 
 keep silent. If you could possibly leave Kiver 
 House for only a single day and run over to Eams- 
 gate, you might fathom this mystery, and if it be 
 not yet too late, rescue this young creature from 
 the path of destruction ! By the bye, I had al- 
 most forgotten to observe that when Beda thus ab- 
 sents herself, she lays aside her good apparel, and 
 dresses in a strange mean unbecoming way ; so 
 that the mystery is indeed all the greater, inas- 
 much as that vanity which one might think would 
 prompt a young girl to go out in her best raiment, 
 seems to be rendered secondary to other considera- 
 tions, whatsoever they may be." 
 
 Such were the paragraphs in Mrs. Norman's 
 letter which at first filled me with anxiety and ap- 
 prehension. But as I reflected upon them, I felt 
 my suspicions which were injurious to Beda gra- 
 dually diminishing; while the thought was stealing 
 into my mind that the young girl might be en- 
 gaged in penetrating some scheme that had come 
 to her knowledge, and which might after all pro- 
 bably regard myself. But, however the case might 
 be, I saw the necessity of at once repairing to 
 Eamsgate; and as my absence would only be for 
 that day and a portion of the next, I had no diffi- 
 culty in making some pretest to Mrs. Oldcastle 
 and Juliet. 
 
 The letter to which I have alluded, reached me 
 at about ten o'clock in the morning ; and by two 
 in the afternoon I was at Eamsgato. 
 
 CHAPTEE, XL. 
 
 THE YACHT. 
 
 The Normans occupied handsome lodgings iu a 
 genteel house belonging to one of the Crescents 
 upon the Heights. On my arrival, I learnt that 
 Beda was again absent — and that it was about 
 noon when, attired in the very worst apparel she 
 possessed', she had stolen out of the house by the 
 back way. When she would return, was a matter 
 of the utmost uncertainty. 
 
 "Beda is a singular creature," I said: "but I 
 have every faith in her good principles. Let us 
 not judge her prematurely: she may have the 
 most satisfactory explanations to give in respect to 
 her conduct. When she returns, be so kind as to 
 leave us alone together ; and she will speak frankly 
 and openly to me." 
 
 "1 am delighted to hear, my dear Ellen," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Norman, " that you have such faith 
 in Beda's propriety. It would indeed be shocking 
 to think that a young girl who possesses such ex- 
 traordinary beauty, and in whom you have so 
 much interested yourself, should have fallen into 
 bad society." 
 
 " Nothing," added Mr. Norman, " would afflict 
 mo more than such a calamitous result. — But
 
 224 
 
 EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF Alf ACTEESS. 
 
 come, my dear," he said, turning to his wife : "you 
 and I will go out for a walk, so as to leave Ellen 
 by herself that she may catechise the girl on her 
 return." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman went out accordingly ; and 
 they had not left the house many minutes, before 
 my ear caught the sounds of footsteps gliding 
 rapidly and lightly up the staircase : for I had 
 purposely left the drawing-room door ajar in order 
 to listen for Beda's return. I started up from my 
 seat, and appeared before the young gipsy -girl just 
 as she was tripping across the landing. Imme- 
 diately upon perceiving me, she gave vent to a 
 cry of joy : and bounding towards me seized my 
 hand, which she pressed to her lips. There were 
 all the evidences of a most real and unfeigned 
 delight in her conduct and her looks ; so that not 
 for an instant could I doubt that my presence 
 was a source of satisfaction to her, and that she 
 did not regard it as an interference with any im- 
 proper pursuits in which she was engaged. 
 
 I bade her follow me into the drawing-room ; 
 and as I took my seat upon the sofa, I had now 
 leisure to regard her with more attention than at 
 the first instant of our meeting. She was dressed 
 in that same style as when I beheld her for the 
 first time at the door of Zarah's lodgings in Lon- 
 don. The skirt of her apparel was short, reveal- 
 ing her beautifully shaped ankles ; and she held in 
 her hands an old battered straw bonnet. The 
 body of her dress was very low : but a dingy cAe. 
 misette was modestly buttoned up to the throat. 
 She had an old scanty shawl : her raven hair 
 seemed to have been purposely dishevelled, as if to 
 complete the negligence of her appearance. In- 
 deed, I saw at once that she had studied to give 
 herself a mean air and also a gipsy-like aspect. 
 
 " Beda," I said, in a serious though kind tone, 
 " you can probably conjecture why I am here ?" 
 
 " And I wished to see you, Miss," replied Beda. 
 "Mrs. Norman threatened to write to you concern- 
 ing me ; and I was glad. I myself would have 
 written, only that I knew not your address ; and I 
 thought that if I asked Mrs, Norman for it, she 
 would imagine it was a mere piece of insolence on 
 my part— a sort of defiance of her menace to make 
 known my proceedings to you." 
 
 " And those proceedings, Beda P" I said, with 
 increased confidence in the young girl: " no doubt 
 you will be enabled to explain them P" 
 
 Beda fixed her large, luminous, unfathomable 
 dark eyes upon my countenance j and after a few 
 moments' silence, she said, " At least yow. Miss, do 
 not believe that I have been guilty of anything 
 improper ?" 
 
 "It is with pleasure I give you the assurance, 
 Beda," I replied, " that I entertained the hope that 
 your conduct would admit of the fullest and most 
 satisfactory explanation. " And now tell me " 
 
 "Miss Percy," interrupted Beda, "I will tell 
 you nothing at present : but this evening you shall 
 know everything. It is most fortunate you have 
 arrived to-day I" 
 
 " And wherefore keep me in suspense ?" I in- 
 quired : " what good can it do to withhold your 
 explanations for several hours ?" 
 
 Beda gave no answer : but first she gazed upon 
 me with those unfathomable eyes of hera : then 
 she slowly bent her looks downward, and seemed 
 absorbed in deep reflection. 
 
 I " You do not give me any reply," I at length 
 '< said. " If you will not explain yourself, Beda, at 
 i least show me a reason for deferring that explana- 
 I tion." 
 
 " No, Miss Percy," answered Beda, firmly but 
 respectfully : " I can at present say nothing to 
 afiford you the slightest clue to the reading of this 
 ^mystery. You know that I am incapable of de- 
 ceiving you ! — you have the fullest confidence in 
 me — and I deserve it. Wait until the evening ; 
 and then, at about nine o'clock, you will see more 
 of the business which I have in hand — and which, 
 as you doubtless already surmise, regards your- 
 self." 
 
 I knew not precisely how to act : I did not like 
 this strange mysterious behaviour on Beda's part ; 
 and yet I saw by the decision with which she 
 spoke that it was useless to press her for any in- 
 formation at present. I was aware also that she 
 was a singular creature — belonging to a singular 
 race ; and that she might therefore choose to work 
 out her own plans according to her own fashion. 
 
 " At nine o'clock, you say, Beda, I shall knovr 
 more ?" I at length observed. 
 
 " At nine o'clock punctually," she answered, " I 
 will join you in the bed-chamber which is ap- 
 pointed for your use." 
 
 She then tripped lightly out of the room ; and 
 I sat reflecting upon all that had passed bettveen 
 us, until Mr. and Mrs. Norman returned from 
 their walk. I told them that Beda had deferred 
 explanations until the evening, — at the same time 
 expressing my conviction that the girl was sincere 
 and straightforward, though singular and self- 
 willed, in her mode of proceeding. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Norman were much in the habit of yielding to my 
 opinion and suffering themselves to be influenced 
 by my judgment; so that they now shared in the 
 conviction which I myself entertained. 
 
 A few minutes before nine o'clock I ascended 
 to my bed-chamber, where I found Beda waiting. 
 She was dressed in precisely the same manner as 
 when she returned to the house in the afternoon ; 
 and her countenance expressed a settled firmness 
 of decision, as if she had some serious and im- 
 portant object in view. 
 
 " Be so kind. Miss," she said, " to put on your 
 bonnet and scarf — draw down your veil — and come 
 with me." 
 
 I hesitated to comply with this request. "Was 
 it possible that Beda could be deceiving me, and 
 that she was about to lead me into some snare ? 
 "Was she indeed a secret enemy, wearing the mask 
 of friendship ? — was she the instrument of the 
 foes whom I had to dread— St. Clair and Lady 
 Lilla Essendine ? I looked her full in the face : I 
 perceived a transient flushing — but very slight — 
 upon that beautiful countenance ; and she said, 
 " You mistrust me, Miss Percy ! I see what is 
 passing in your mind. "Were I thus wrongly 
 judged by any other person in the world, I would 
 at once abandon the project which I have in view 
 
 yes, with indignation would I abandon it, and 
 
 I would leave that person to her fate !" 
 
 "Beda," I said, "you really cannot be asto- 
 nished if for a moment I hesitated to abandon 
 myself to a mystery which is so dark and there- 
 fore suspicious. But I will go with you. If 
 you save me from any imminent peril, there are 
 no words too kmd to flow from my lips in the
 
 ELLEN TERCT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AK ACTEESS. 
 
 expressiou of my gratitude. But if you mean me 
 mischief, you will never know another hour's hap- 
 piness ; for, as you are aware, my intentions have 
 ever been most disinterested and benevolent to- 
 wards you." 
 
 Bcda's splendid eyes lighted up with joy and 
 confidence; and I again reposed the fullest trust 
 in her. I put on my bonnet and scarf — drew 
 down the veil — and followed her. Wo issued forth 
 by the back part of the house ; and Beda, who 
 led the way — having threaded three or four streets 
 — conducted me down to the harbour. 
 
 The reader will bear in mind that the incidents 
 which I am relating took place at the close of the 
 month of June. The weather was beautiful; and 
 at that hour— a little past nine o'clock— it was 
 light enough for all objects to be plainly dis- 
 CPriiible. Beda tripped lightly along, keeping 
 about four or five yards in front of me ; and we 
 thus entered upon one of the piers. Thcro were 
 No. 29.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 several vessels in the harbour — some moored 
 against the piers, others attached to buoys in tha 
 middle of the basins. It was now towards one of 
 the former vessels that Beda bent her steps ; and 
 having flung her looks rapidly around, she ap- 
 proached the ship's side. It was ouito hig'a 
 water; and the starlight was shining brilliantly 
 upon the bosom of the full basin. The vessel to 
 which I am specially alluding, struck me as being 
 a beautiful craft, little experienced though I was 
 in such matters. It had two tall taperinjf masts, 
 leaning considerably backward — or " raking," as 
 I believe the nautical term is. Its deck was of re- 
 markable cleanliness; and the brass- work brightly 
 reflected the silver lustre shed from the heavens. 
 I should observe that there were only three or 
 four persons upon the pier besides ourselves — or 
 at least only those within the range of our vision ; 
 and they were at some little distance. 1 beheld 
 nobody on board the vessel itself; and I wondered
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBMOIHS OF AN ACXEESS. 
 
 why £oda was seeking it, and what it could pos- 
 sibly have to do with the business she had in 
 hand. 
 
 " William !" she said — or rather gently called 
 out with her musical voice ; and the summons was 
 immediately answered by some person emerging 
 from one of the cabins of the vessel. 
 
 He hastened along the deck, towards the 
 spot where we were standing ; and I now per- 
 ceived that he was a young man — I might even 
 say a youth, of about seventeen or eighteen years 
 of age— with a dark complexion, but remarkably 
 handsome features. He was dressed in a sailor's 
 garb— white trousers, a blue jacket, and a low 
 glazed hat with a light blue ribbon. His attire 
 was remarkably neat ; and there was a certain air 
 of superiority about the youth which I might 
 almost term gentility. He looked like one of the 
 picked crew of a yacht; and indeed it had already 
 struck me, by what I could see of the vessel's ap- 
 pointments, that it was of this description. I 
 should add that the youth was moderately tall, 
 and slender : his dark hair was arranged in thick 
 clustering curls: he had fine bright eyes; and as he 
 greeted Beda with a friendly familiarity, his part- 
 ing lips revealed a set of teeth as white as ivory, 
 
 "Is it all right?" inquired Beda. 
 
 " Yes," he responded : " I am alone io the 
 yacht : all my mates are at the public-house yonder 
 — as I told you they would be. And this lady " 
 
 "Tbis is Miss Percy," answered Beda, — "the 
 lady to whom I am indebted for the happiness 
 which I enjoy — my kind benefactress for whom I 
 could never do too much !" 
 
 The young sailor took oS his hat, and made me 
 a respectful bow. 
 
 " You will come on board. Miss f" said Beda j 
 "for it is here that you have something to see 
 which must serve as the preliminary to the expla- 
 nations I shall afterwards have to give." 
 
 Again there was a momentary hesitation on my 
 part — but so transient that Beda did not see it j 
 and the nest instant I myself was ashamed of it. 
 We both of us stepped on board tho vessel; and 
 the youthful sailor, whoso Cbristiaa name ap- 
 peared to be William, led the way towards the 
 entrance to the cabia in the stern of the vessel. 
 We descended the stairs ; and as a light was 
 burning in that cabin, I was enabled at a glance 
 to behold the beauty of its appointments. It was 
 more spacious, than I could have conceived it to 
 be : it was fitted up with damask ^ofas, and there I 
 was an elegant little table in the middle. The ' 
 painting, the gilding, the mirrors set in the panels, 
 —all were exquisitely tasteful. But still, as L 
 looked around, I wondered what possible con- ! 
 nexiou there could exist between this vessel and 
 any circumstances which regarded myself. 
 
 The young sailor, on receiving a sign from 
 Beda, drew forth from his pocket a small instru- 
 ment which resembled a turnscrew; and with this 
 ho unhesitatingly forced open a door— which, as I 
 immediately perceived, communicated with another 
 cabin. This latter was smaller than the first 
 mentioned : but it was fitted up in an 'equally 
 elegant style. I was struck with astonishment at 
 the proceeding by which that door was forced 
 open ; and I was even alarmed lest I myself should 
 become implicated in the consequences of so bur- 
 glarious a doed ; for both the door and tho frame- 
 
 work were so much injured that it would be im- 
 possible to conceal the evidences of the violence 
 from the eyes of others. Beda however flung 
 upon me a reassuring look ; and William, taking 
 up tho wax-candle which was burning in the 
 larger cabin, led the way into the smaller one. 
 
 There was a writing-case upon the table; and 
 this Beda at once opened. She turned over tho 
 leaves of the blotting paper, as if anxiously search- 
 ing for some document which she expected to find 
 there ; and on perceiving a sheet of note-paper 
 with writing upon it, she ejaculated, " Ah ! here it 
 is ! Look at tbis. Miss Percy," she added, placing 
 the note in my hand. 
 
 On glancing at it, I was smitten with astonish- 
 ment on recognising what seemed to be my own 
 handwriting : but even greater still was my amaze- 
 ment when I caught sight of the first words— 
 " My dear Mrs, Norman." 
 
 " Eead it," said Beda, — " there is no breach of 
 faith nor violation of the sanctity of corre- 
 spondence, when so foul a forgery has been com- 
 mitted," 
 
 I hesitated not for another moment to read tho 
 billet, the contents of which I found to rua as 
 follow :— 
 
 "Mt deae Mks. Noemaw,— 
 "You will be surprised on receiving this to 
 learn that I shall go back to you no more. I have 
 j for some time cherished an attachment towards 
 one who is in every way worthy of my love ; and 
 to whose keeping I have resolved to entrust my 
 happiness. There are reasons which prevent me 
 from giving more specific explanations at present : 
 but you shall know all shortly. To yourself aud 
 Mr. Norman I proffer the tribute of my deepest 
 gratitude for all the kindnesses I have received at 
 your hands; and to Juliet you will convey for me 
 the assurance of my lasting love, I have two re- 
 quests to make ; and I rely upon your friendship 
 for their accomplishment. The first is, that you 
 will pack up all my effects wheresoever they may 
 be scattered about, in London or at my late resi- 
 dence, and keep them until they shall be called 
 for by some one who will be empowered to receive 
 j them. The other request is that you will make 
 known to all my friends and acquaintances the 
 contents of this letter; so that there may be no 
 uneasiness in any quarter on account of my sud- 
 den disappearance. With one of those friends of 
 mine I hate deposited a packet of papers, in- 
 teresting only to myself; and this will of course 
 be consigned to your hands when the nature of 
 the present letter shall be made known. That 
 packet you will be kind enough to place amongst 
 my other effects, 
 
 " With renewed assurances of gratitude and 
 love, 
 
 "I remain, my dear Mrs, Norman, 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 " Ellen Peect." 
 
 Ejaculations of indignation kept bursting from 
 my lips as I perused this billet : but mingled with 
 my other feelings was au illimitable amazement at 
 tho extraordinary accuracy with which my hand- 
 writing hal been imitated. Indeed, tho resem- 
 blance was so perfect that if the contents had 
 only been of a nature which at some period or
 
 ELLEX PEECT ; Oil, THB MEMOIES OV AK ACTRE99. 
 
 anotlier I miglit have composed, I should have 
 assuredly believed that it teas iny own writing. 
 Suspicion for many reasons pointed to Lady Lilla 
 Easendine as the authoress of the forgery, and to 
 St, Clair as her accomplice. I turned to ques- 
 tion Beda: but she, anticipating my intention, 
 Said, " Not now, Miss ! You shall know every- 
 thing presently. Wo have yet a deed to per- 
 form." 
 
 Again her dark eyes flung a signal at the youth- 
 ful sailor ; and he lost no time in obeying it. We 
 returned into the other cabin ; and there William, 
 having deposited the was candle upon the table, 
 proceeded to lift off the cushion of one of the 
 sofas. 
 
 "K?ep that note," hastily whispered Beda to 
 me, as I still retained the odious forgery in my 
 hand. 
 
 I accordingly secured the document about my 
 parson, — watching the while the proceedings of 
 the young mariner William. He had lifted off, as 
 I have said, the cushion of the sofa, — the frame- 
 work of which, as the reader will understand, was 
 a permanent fixture on one side of the cabin j so 
 that indeed it resembled an oriental divan. In the 
 flat surface of the boarding on which the cushion 
 had rested, a small square was made to lift out ; 
 j and when that piece of wood was removed, there 
 appeared an upright bar of iron, with a cross 
 handle of the same metal. Upon this cross-piece 
 the young mariner fixed his hands firmly ; and he 
 turned it completely round— a proceedinjj which 
 required a considerable degree of force. He then 
 hastily replaced the little trap-door, threw back the 
 cushion over it, and flung a look of strange mean- 
 ing upon Beda. Immediately after the turning of 
 that iron handle, my ears caught a sound like that 
 of gurgling water underneath the floor of the 
 cabin ; and I glanced towards Beda for an expla- 
 nation. 
 
 " Now let us away !" cried the young girl : and 
 she pushed me towards the carpeted stairs. 
 
 There was something in the words which she 
 uttered and the movement by which they were ac- 
 companied, that seemed to imply the necessity of 
 haste ; and I sped up the staircase. Beda was 
 close behind me, — the young man bringing up the 
 rear ; and in a moment we all three stood upon 
 the deck. 
 
 " Now, Miss Percy," said Beda, " we have no- 
 thing more to do here .'" 
 
 " But I insist upon knowing," I exclaimed, 
 " whet all this means :" — for I felt frightened, and 
 had vague sensations of terror creeping over me 
 at what seemed to be the sinister mystery of these 
 proceedings. 
 
 "You shall know all directly," answered Beda. 
 " Good bye, William," she added, turning towards 
 the youth to whom she extended her hand. " A 
 thousand thanks for all that you have done." 
 
 " Whatever he may have done," I hastened to 
 observe, " whether right or whether wrong, it has 
 evidently been with the intention of serving me ; 
 andij!^ must reward him :" — at the same time I 
 drew forth my purse. 
 
 " No reward will I take. Miss Percy," replied 
 
 William firmly ; and again making me a respectful 
 
 bow, he retreated to the farther extremity of the 
 
 vessel, 
 
 Boda and I now stepped upon the pier ; and 
 
 the young gipsy girl hurried me along towards the 
 town. Just as we woro emerging from the pier, 
 we beheld a female figure, closely veiled rapidly 
 approaching. Beda — who was on the side nearest 
 to her— laid her hand upon the arm of that veiled 
 lady, for a lady she evidently was; and the young 
 gipsy girl said to her in a low clear voice, "Every- 
 thing is discovered, and you are baffled." 
 
 Tne lady stopped short; and the single ejacula- 
 tion " Ah !" burst from her lips : but Beda hurried 
 me along — the iron gate at the entrance of tho 
 pier was passed through — and as I glanced behind, 
 I perceived the veiled lady still standing, as if 
 transfixed, upon tho spot where we had left her. 
 
 " Who was that person, Beda?" I asked, though 
 not without a suspicion as to what the response 
 might be. 
 
 " That person. Miss," answered tho gipsy girl, 
 "is tho authoress of the letter which you havo 
 about you— the one whose hand perpetrated the 
 odious forgery ! It is Lady Lilla Essendine." 
 
 "I thought so!" I exclaimed. "And that 
 yacht " 
 
 "It belongs to Captain St. Clair," rejoined 
 Beda. 
 
 There also my surmise was correct : but I asked 
 no Aore questions — for we were proceeding rapidly 
 through the streets, and in a few minutes we 
 should be at home. 
 
 The house was reached : we re-entered by the 
 back way ; and unobserved by a soul, we regained 
 my bed-chamber. 
 
 "Now, Miss Percy," said Beda, "I will tell you 
 everything ; and you will learn wherefore I have 
 kept the secret until this moment. But first of 
 all let me give you the assurance that I — poor 
 humble girl though I be — have had the oppor- 
 tunity of testifjing my gratitude towards you : for 
 I have saved your life !" 
 
 " Is this possible, Beda ?" I exclaimed, trembling 
 not merely with the joyous sense of security, but 
 likewise at the thought of having escaped somo 
 dread and fearful peril. " Oh, my poor Beda ! I 
 who had mistrusted you for a moment ! But 
 come to my arras ! I told you there was no kind- 
 ness too great for me to display if your actions 
 justified your words 1" 
 
 Beda— who liad maintained the utmost firmness, 
 composure, and decision while witnessing the 
 various proceedings on board tho vessel— now wept 
 like a child : but tlioy were tsars of joy n-hieh she 
 shed as I folded her in my arms and embraced her 
 affectionately. 
 
 "Tell mo everything," I said, when she had 
 wiped away those tears from her chcok-s — and 
 now it was a luminous look of love she bent upoa 
 me. 
 
 " Grant mo your pationor. Miss," she said ; " for 
 the tale is eomenliat a long one, and I must bo 
 minute in its particulars. On the evening when I 
 first arrived in Bamsgate, you remember, Zvlisa, 
 that you sent me out to make a few purchases — 
 for you were to leave on the following mjrning. 
 As I was walking through one of the street?, I 
 met that young man whom you havo just seen on 
 board the vessel. Wz looked at each other with 
 the mutual conviction that we were no strangers. 
 It was he who remembered me first. ' Surely you 
 must be Beda?' ha said.— 'And you,' I imme- 
 diately replied, as the recognition flashed to my
 
 223 
 
 ELLEN PEECr; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AS ACTEESS. 
 
 mind, ' are WiiJiain Lardner.' — Aad it was so. I 
 must tell you, Miss Percy, that when I was a little 
 girl, living with my parents in the caravan, Wil- 
 liam Lardner, who used to travel with his own 
 parents in a similar manner, was my playmate 
 when the two families happened to meet, which 
 was very ol'ten. I had not seen William since the 
 death of my own parents, until I met him that 
 day. He told me that his father and mother were 
 likewise dead : they had died about three years 
 ago ; and he, disgusted with the wandering life of 
 a gipsy, had embarked as a cabin boy on board a 
 mercLant-vesseL It further appeared that some 
 few weeks back, on leaving that ship, he happened 
 to fall in with Zarah's graudaiother, who at once 
 informed him that it was in her power to procure 
 him a much better situation — in short, a berth on 
 board a gentleman's yacht. He was introduced to 
 that gentleman : his testimonials were good ; and 
 he was at onco accepted. He was ordered to re- 
 pair to a seaport in France, where the yacht was 
 built; and he went on board. Thence after a 
 while the yacht sailed for England; and it had 
 arrived in Bamsgate harbour the very same day 
 on which I thus met him." 
 
 "The same day of our own arrival at Barns- 
 gate ?" I observed. ' 
 
 " The very same," replied Beda. " William 
 Lardner spoke in high terms of his new situation ; 
 for he was well paid, well fed, and well treated ; 
 and he was proud likewise of frhe little vessel to 
 which he belonged. I casually inquired of him 
 who was the owner of the yacht ; and he answered, 
 'Captain St. Clair.' The reply struck me with 
 mingled surprise and alarm ; for I could not help 
 thinking that the presence of Captain St. Clair at 
 Ramsgate at the same time that you yourself. 
 Miss, were here, was something more than a mere 
 coincidence and that it might bode danger to you. 
 I did not choose to inspire you with apprehensions, 
 which after all might be utterly unfounded: — and 
 perhaps also," added Beda, with a slight blush 
 upon her cheeks, " I had my own little pride— and 
 I thought that if there were really any danger, it 
 should be my task to discover and defeat it ; fur it 
 was by those means only that I could testify the 
 deep gratitude that I owe you." 
 
 "Excellent Beda!" I exclaimed, affgctionately 
 caressing her cheek. 
 
 " On the following day you left Ramsgate," she 
 continued; "and I resolved to seek William Lard- 
 ner, and endeavour to ascertain through him what 
 Captain St. Clair's intentions might be — whether 
 he intended to remain any time in Ramsgate, or 
 whether the yacht was shortly to proceed else- 
 where. I fancied that if I wore the good clothes 
 you had given me, my visits to the yacht would 
 oppear strange ; and I therefore assumed the 
 poorest garb that I possessed. I soon found an 
 opportunity of conversing with William; and I 
 discovered that he was prepared to do anything for 
 me. When onco assured of his good feeling, his 
 sincerity, and his readiness, I took him into my 
 confidence : I told him that I was in the service of 
 a young lady who had done everything for me, and 
 to whom I was bound by every tie of gratitude. 
 You know not, Mias Percy, how strong are the 
 feelings of sympathy which exist amongst persons 
 of my race : we all seem as if in certain respects 
 we have an identity of interests; and the gipsy 
 
 will help another in purposes either of veiiijeanca 
 for injuries or of gratitude for bounties. Nor was 
 William Lardner deficient in such sympathies as 
 these, although he had renounced a gipsy life, and 
 on board his vessel strenuously denied his gipsy 
 origin. To be brief, he swore to assist me to the 
 utmost of his power ; and from all that I told him 
 he began to think that it was not perhaps alto- 
 gether from a friendly motive that Zarah's grand- 
 mother had recommended him to the service of 
 Edwin St. Clair. In the course of conversation I 
 learnt that St. Clair had on the preceding evening 
 visited his yacht in company with a lady who had 
 just arrived from London; and I bade William 
 discover her name, if possible — for I thought she 
 might be Lady Lilla Essendine. You know, Miss 
 Percy, that Zarah instructed mo to watch over 
 your interests, before you took me into your ser- 
 vice ; and she told me enough at the time to make 
 her think it probable that St. Clair and Lady Lilla 
 were combining their machinations against your 
 peace and security. William Lardner failed not 
 to act according to the desire that I expressed ; 
 and he succeeded in learning that the lady was in- 
 deed none other than Lilla Essendine." 
 
 " And does not Captain St. Clair live oa board 
 his yacht ?" I asked. 
 
 "No, Miss," replied Beda : "he has been stop- 
 ping at one hotel, while Lady Lilla has resided at 
 another. I have watched them, and I have seen 
 that Captain St. Clair has not visited her ladyship 
 at her hotel, but that they have met on board the 
 yacht. By dint of prying and listening, William 
 Lardner succeeded in ascertaining that your name 
 was frequently mentioned by St. Clair and Lady 
 Lilla when they were together : and her ladyship 
 on each occasion wrote a great deal upon pieces of 
 note-paper, but always as if she were copying 
 something from other letters which lay before her. 
 This was in the inner cabin of the vessel ; and it 
 was usually of an evening, after dusk, that Lady 
 Lilla Essendine joined Captain St. Clair there. 
 Still William's opportunities for gleaning any ii- 
 formation were so slight, and the few particulars 
 ho could pick up were so trivial, that they afforded 
 no clue to the ulterior aims of Captain St. Clair 
 and Lady Lilla Essendine. It was absolutely 
 necessary for me to do something in order to 
 penetrate farther into the mystery. I consulted 
 with William ; and we at length hit upon a plan, 
 which I determined to adopt, although it was 
 attended with no small risk, not merely of detec- 
 tion, but even to my life itself." 
 
 " Good heavens, Beda I" I exclaimed : " what 
 mean you ?" 
 
 " You shall learn. Miss Pjrcy," she replied. 
 " You remember those sofa-like divans in both 
 the cabins ? For the most part they are fitted up 
 80 as to form hollows or recesses to contain stores, 
 wine, and so forth. The project was nothing less 
 than that I should conceal myself in one of these 
 recesses ; and in order to prevent me from being 
 stifled in so cofSu-like a place, William, whose 
 duty it was to clean out the cabins, bored three or 
 four holes in a spot where it was least probable xhat 
 they would be observed. The evening before last 
 the plan was carried into execution ; and when 
 the dusk set in, I glided down into the cabin, un- 
 perceived by the other sailors. William quickly 
 followed me : I secretod myself in tho hiding-
 
 EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF ATJ ACTEITSS. 
 
 229 
 
 pluct) — the board was placed over me like a coflia- 
 lid — and the cushion above it like a gay pall. But 
 I could breathe freely— and that was sufficient. 
 William retired ; and shortly afterwards Captain 
 St. Clair and Lady Lilla Esscndiue entered the 
 cabin. They at once began to speak in reference 
 to the machinations which they had in view. I 
 learnt from their conversation that some days be- 
 fore Mr. and Mrs. Norman left London, St. Clair 
 bad ascertained— I know not how— that their des- 
 tination was Eamsgate ; and he had of course sur- 
 mised that you were to be with them in this town 
 during their sojourn of a few weeks. Then it 
 was that St. Clair had immediately sent to Dun- 
 kirk to order his yacht to come to Samsgate, his 
 intention being to inveigle you on board by some 
 stratagem, or else to seize upon and convey you 
 thither by force at the first opportunity. But it 
 appeared that your immediate departure from 
 Ramsgate after your arrival, had to a certain ex- 
 tent baOled the conspirators; and it was equally 
 certain that they had been vainly endeavouring to 
 ascertain whither you were gone. But as Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman continued here, they conjec- 
 tured that it was tolerably sure you would return, 
 for that you had most probably gone to pay a 
 flying visit elsewhere. Thus they discoursed to- 
 gether;— and then. Miss Percy, you may conceive 
 the horror which smote me when I discovered 
 that those wretches were plotting your death! 
 Tiiey spoke of the knowledge which you had of 
 certain secrets the revelation of which would 
 be most fatal to themselves— and which, though 
 you had hitherto kept silent, you were certain 
 sooner or later to reveal. Then they talked 
 of some sealed packet in which you had enclosed 
 a statement of those secrets— and which packet 
 you had deposited with some friend to whom you 
 had given specific instructions with regard to the 
 contingencies in which the packet was to be 
 opened. Lady Lilla Essendine said that she had 
 80 accurately studied your handwriting, from 
 certain letters which she had at different times 
 received from you at a period when you were on 
 amicable terms, that she felt assured she could 
 pen a note, in your name, which should suc- 
 ceed in deceiving even your most intimate 
 friends. The object of such a note, as far as I 
 could understand from their conversation, was to 
 be twofold " 
 
 "Ah! and I can also comprehend full well," I 
 exclaimed, " what those objects were ! But pro- 
 ceed, Beda : tell me the tale in your own way — 
 it would be better that I should hear it all from 
 your lips than fill up any portions with conjec- 
 tures of my own." 
 
 " Yes, Miss," continued the gipsy girl : " there 
 were evidently two distinct objects. The first was 
 to make it appear to Mr. and Mrs. Norman that 
 you had voluntarily withdrawn yourself from their 
 protection, and that you had gone away with 
 some one to whom your heart was given, so that 
 they should not institute any inquiries after you. 
 The second object was that the sealed packet might 
 shortly come iuto the possession of the con- 
 spirators " 
 
 " And thus the letter was so adroitly worded in 
 respect to the disposal of all my effects, wherever 
 they might be !" 
 
 " Yes, Miss," proceeded Beda : " and inasmuch 
 
 as Captain St, Clair and Lady Lilla Essendiuo bad 
 utterly failed to discover where you have been 
 staying for the last few days, they were compelled 
 so to word the billet that it should seem to allude 
 in a casual but natural way to your late residence ; 
 so that if it should happen that you left any of 
 your boxes or effects at any other place, they might 
 all be collected together by Mrs. Norman and re- 
 tained in readiness to be given up to a messenger 
 whom St. Clair purposed to send to receive them. 
 Ah! you know not, Miss Percy, how minutely 
 Captain St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine dis- 
 cussed all the details of their plan, weighed all the 
 chances of success, and calculated all the risks. 
 But there was one thing which struck me ; and 
 this was that they spoke not to each other with 
 any degree of friendliness. Linked though they 
 evidently were in the horrible intimacy of crime, 
 there was yet no intimacy of the heart : but on 
 the contrary, it rather seemed as if they were 
 two enemies who were stifling their mutual ani- 
 mosities and setting aside their own reciprocal 
 hatreds, in the presence of one tremendous 
 exigency in which they had an identical interest." 
 
 " Yes, you are right, Beda !" I exclaimed : " it 
 is so ! But proceed, my dear girl : I am still full 
 of suspense." 
 
 " Ah ! the greater part of my narrative is now 
 told," responded Beda : " yet the most hideous part 
 is to come. I shudder dear Miss Percy, when I 
 think of it; and you yourself will be as much 
 astonished as horrified when you come to learn 
 how exquisitely refined was the ingenuity of that 
 dark villany which was medrtated against you. 
 The yacht, as I have already said, was purchased 
 in France ; and Captain St. Clair had very excel- 
 lent reasons for thus seeking a vessel in a foreign 
 dockyard — because, when purchased, there were 
 arrangements to be effected which he was careful 
 to veil in as much mystery as possible. All that 
 I am about to tell you. Miss Percy, I gathered 
 from the conversation which took place between 
 that wicked man and his equally infamous accom- 
 plice. It appears that he lavished gold amongst 
 the shipwrights at Dunkirk : he bound them over 
 to the strictest secrecy — he himself bore an as- 
 sumed name while thus dealing with them ; and he 
 gave them to understand that the vessel, under the 
 guise of a yacht, was in reality destined for contra- 
 band purposes on a most extensive scale. He re- 
 presented that in case of danger from the English 
 revenue-cruisers, while pursuing his smuggling 
 avocations, he was determined to scuttle the ship 
 rather than be captured; but at the same time ho 
 wished to have the means of achieving this object 
 without the knowledge of his crew— so that there 
 might be no chance of interference on their part. 
 Hence the arrangement which I am about to do- 
 scribe. So far as I could comprclicnd, a species of 
 water-tight trap-door was fashioned in the bottom 
 of the vessel, just beneath the larger cabin ; and 
 by means of a simple apparatus — merely that 
 turning iron handle — the trap-door could be 
 opened." 
 
 " Good heavens, Beda !" I exclaimed, starting 
 up in affright and consternation from my seat, as 
 I all in a moment comprehended the sinister mys- 
 stery of the proceedings which I had so lately wit- 
 nessed on board the yacht : " then your friend 
 William has sunk the vessel !"
 
 230 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, XHB MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESB. 
 
 " Precisely so, Miss," answered Beda, quietly 
 and composerlly. 
 
 " Oh ! but this was going too far 1" I ejaculated : 
 "it was a species of crime !" 
 
 " It was only a just retribution," rejoined Beda. 
 " Was no punishment to overtake St. Clair " 
 
 ." But there is the punishment of the law," I 
 exclaimed ; " and this time it must be in» 
 yoked " 
 
 " No, Miss !" interrupted Beda ; " the punish- 
 ment of those conspirators is already inflicted by 
 the discomfiture of their schemes and the sinking 
 of their ship. I swore to Zarah that in whatso- 
 ever manner I might at any time be enabled to 
 save you from the persecutions of Edwin St. Clair, 
 I would faithfully abstain from bringing him 
 within the grasp of the law. What Zarah's 
 motives may have been in urging this injunction 
 upon me, I know not : suffice it to eay that I swore 
 to observe it. And now, Miss Percy, you under- 
 stand why I would tell you nothing of all these 
 matters when you pressed me on your arrival this 
 afternoon. I was determined that the vessel 
 should be sunk; and I knew full well that if I 
 unveiled my plan to you, your generous scruples 
 would militate against it. Now the work is done ; 
 and I rejoice — I am exultant !" 
 
 Beda's fine dark eyes glanced luminously as she 
 thus spoke; and I could not help saying, "After 
 all, perhaps, you were right : for if the horrible 
 surmise which is fl.oating in my mind " 
 
 "That surmise is the accurate one," interrupted 
 Beda emphatically ; " for it was nothing less than 
 your death that wrff contemplated— your murder 
 that was intended ! Ob, think you, dear Miss 
 Percy, that when I lay concealed in that coffin- 
 like recess, listening to the diabolical plans and 
 fiendish intentions of those two wretches, I had any 
 compunction in respect to the course which I 
 should afterwards pursue? Believe me, when I 
 obtained the hideous conviction that it was the 
 life of my own beloved mistress which was threat- 
 ened, I could cheerfully and gladly have handed 
 over those foul conspirators to the strong grasp of 
 the law, were it not for the solemn pledge I had 
 given to Zarah. But let me explain the intentions 
 of those wretches. You were to be either inveigled 
 by stratagem on board the yacht, or carried thither 
 by force when opportunity should serve. This 
 being accomplished, the yacht would have imme- 
 diately put out to sea ; and then, while you were 
 locked in the inner cabin, the villain St. Clair 
 would have executed his fatal project. The trap- 
 door would have been opened — in a short time the 
 crew would have found that the vessel was sink- 
 ing—the idea that a plank had been started would 
 have become general — prompt recourse would have 
 been had to the boats— and in the confusion none 
 of the men would have thought of you until it 
 was too late ! All would have been saved but 
 yourself, my beloved mistress ! — the tale would 
 have been spread of your accidental death — and 
 no shadow of suspicion would ever have at- 
 tached itself to St. Clair ! These were the fright- 
 ful plans — these the combinations of a fiend-like 
 ingenuity. But heaven bo thanked ! they are all 
 baffled !" 
 
 " And to you, dear Beda," I said, " am I in- 
 debted for my life ! But tell me whereforo when 
 I arrived here this afternoon, did you give me to 
 
 understand that my coming this day was most 
 opportune ?" 
 
 " Because to-day," replied Beda, " Captain St. 
 Clair is absent from Bamsgate; and he is not to 
 return until to-morrow. He went on board the 
 yacht early this morning; and having superin- 
 tended the laying-in of a quantity of wine, in the 
 lockers and recesses of the inner cabin, he locked 
 the door. Hence the necessity of breaking open 
 that door just now ; for I knew that the forged 
 letter had been left in the writing-case: and I 
 wished you to see it as a corroboration of all the 
 details of a story which, without such proof, I 
 feared might be too wildly wondrous in its infa- 
 mies and its horrors to be believed by you. More- 
 over, I was resolved that you should possess your- 
 self of this letter, in order that you might be 
 enabled to produce it in a court of justice, in case 
 Captain St. Clair should by an audacious step 
 endeavour to brand and punish us for the olFeDco 
 of sinking his vessel. I have only a few more 
 details to give," continued Beda. "You may 
 easily suppose. Miss Percy, that mine was no very 
 comfortable position — shut up in that recess for 
 more than an hour the night before last — not 
 daring to move lest the slightest sound should be- 
 tray my presence — horribly cramped — and at 
 length experiencing an increased difficulty in 
 breathing! Immense therefore was the relief I felt 
 when St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendiue took 
 their departure. William Lardner was on the 
 watch; and he immediately came to rescue me 
 from my narrow prison-house. I can assure you 
 that for nearly half-an-hour I was unable to re- 
 cover the complete use of my limbs : it was a per- 
 fect martyrdom which I had been experiencing. 
 But if in one sense I was horrified at alt that I 
 had heard, in another sense I was rejoiced, inas- 
 much as I had fathomed the whole conspiracy — I 
 had penetrated the entire web of fiend-like wicked- 
 ness which had been so ingeniously woven to en- 
 mesh you. I explained everything to William 
 Lardner : he himself was horrified and appalled at 
 what ho heard, and at the idea of having enlisted 
 in the service of so infamous a master. He vowed 
 to assist me in whatsoever way I might point out. 
 St. Clair had so accurately described to Lady Lilla 
 Essendine the working of the mechanism prepared 
 for the scuttling of the vessel that I thoroughly 
 comprehended it; and before I separated from Wil- 
 liam Lardner that evening, we examined the iron 
 handle concealed within the bed of the sofa; and 
 he satisfied himself that he could turn it. This 
 morning, as I have already told you, St. Clair 
 visited the yacht ; and then he went away, inti- 
 mating that he should not return until to-morrow. 
 William assured me that in the evening his com- 
 rades would be certain to repair to the public- 
 house to have a carouse ; and it was settled be- 
 tween us that the opportunity should not be 
 allowed to pass. We were resolved that the yacht 
 should be sunk; and it was my purpose to obtain 
 possession of that forged letter in order to corro- 
 borate my tale when next I should see you. But 
 you came. Miss Percy — and I was rejoiced ! You 
 came— and I was determined that you should wit- 
 ness this step that it was requisite to take for the 
 sinking of the sinister vessel which had been in- 
 tended to serve as your coffin in the abysm of the 
 deep waters of the sea! It is done;— and now
 
 ELLEN PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 231 
 
 let St. Clair order his vessel to be raised if be 
 think fit ! At all events bo 'ivill see that bis dia- 
 bolical secret is discovered ; and he will not dare 
 recur to that scheme of satanic wickedness in 
 respect to yourself." 
 
 " Oh, Beda !" I exclaimed, " how can I ever re- 
 pay you for having thus saved my life ? Hence- 
 forth, my dear girl," I continued, again folding 
 her in my arms, " you shall not be my menial — 
 you shall be my companion — my friend !" 
 
 " No, Miss Percy," replied Beda, with firm- 
 ness of voice, though her lustrous eyes vibrated 
 with the emotions which filled her heart : " the 
 poor gipsy girl is no fitting companion for an 
 elegant lady like yourself. I am your friend — 
 devotedly and faithfully so: but my friendship 
 must be displayed from a respectful distance. 
 Nothing shall induce me to alter my position 
 totfards you. Do not therefore press it !" 
 
 " Well, Beda, it must be as you wish," I said 
 carressing her afiectionately. " But remember that 
 I consider myself under so deep an obligation to 
 you, that henceforth I shall love you as if you 
 were my sister. — But Ah!" I exclaimed as a 
 sudden thought struck me, " what of your young 
 friend William Lardner ? Is there no possibility 
 that be may become involved in any diffi- 
 culty on account of the occurrences of this even- 
 ing ?" 
 
 " How is it possible ?" asked Beda. "Who can 
 prove' that it was his hand which scuttled the 
 vessel? Will St. Clair voluntarily reveal the 
 mystery of that sinister mechanism, and accuse 
 William of having put it into requisition? Or 
 will ho not, when it is discovered — as discovered 
 it must be by those who take measures to raise the 
 vessel — will he not, I say, with a great show of 
 indignation proclaim his astonishment that a ship 
 evidently intended for all the contingencies of a 
 contraband trade, should have been sold to him as 
 a pleasure-yacht ? However, let us leave him to 
 extricate himself from this embarrassment as best 
 he may, William Lardner will no longer remain 
 
 in his service " 
 
 "And what can I do for that young man?" I 
 asked. " He would accept no reward : but yet I 
 must insist upon sending him through you some 
 t.'!stimonial of my gratitude : for without bis as- 
 sistance you would probably have failed to pene- 
 trate that which you have so appropriately denomi- 
 nated as the tangled web which was woven to 
 enmesh me." 
 
 " He will accept no reward, Miss !" replied 
 Beda. " He intends to seek another service on 
 board some vessel : and — and," added the gipsy 
 girl with a slight flushing of the cheeks, " he has 
 promised to write to me occasionally : but I told 
 him that I must first obtain your consent before 
 I would agree to receive his letters." 
 
 " You did well, Beda," I answered, compre- 
 hending that a feeling of attachment had sprung 
 up between herself and William Lardner. "He 
 is evidently a good young man : and although you 
 are both very young yet there can be no harm in 
 your occasionally receiving a letter in which he 
 may tell you how he is getting on. You may 
 inform him that such is the opinion which I have 
 espicssed; and you may add that if ever circum- 
 stances should transpire, through disappointment 
 or want of employment, to render the succour of 
 
 a friend needful, he must not hesitate to apply to 
 me." 
 
 Beda took my band and pressed it to her lips. 
 We continued to discourse a little longer upon the 
 topics of such strange, wild, and horrible interest 
 which for an hour had been engaging us ; and 
 Beda, as a thought struck her, asked, " How do 
 you think. Miss, that Captain St. Clair could have 
 discovered the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 to come to Rimsgate ? Because, you see, he mtist 
 have known it at least a week or ten days before 
 they set off: or else he could not have sent to 
 Dunkirk to order his yacht to come to the harbour 
 of this town." 
 
 "The intention of Mr. and Mrs. Norman to 
 spend the vacation at Eamsgate, was no secret at 
 the theatre— it was generally known in the dra- 
 matic world — and, if I recollect rightly, it was 
 mentioned in a theatrical publication. Thus, you 
 see. Captain St. Clair might very easily have learnt 
 the rumour even by accident; while the slightest 
 inquiry would have made him acquainted with it." 
 
 I was now compelled to rejoin the Normans in 
 the drawing-room : but I knew not precisely what 
 explanations to give them. As the reader is 
 aware, I had all along abstained from entering 
 into particulars relative to the persecutions I had 
 endured on the part of St. Clair ; and if I were 
 now to describe the proceedings in which I had 
 been engaged with Beda, it would necessitate the 
 complete revelation of all the past. And then, 
 too, Mr. Norman would naturally insist, that, de- 
 spite Zarah's injunctions, I should invoke the 
 aid of the law against St. Clair : and I should be 
 forced to explain why, apart from those injunc- 
 tions, there was a motive which induced me to 
 observe certain terms with him: namely, his 
 knowledge of my parentage and of the fatal secret 
 which related to my father. Therefore, all things 
 considered, I was resolved to tell the Normans as 
 little as possible ; and indeed it was so easy to 
 satisfy them ; for these worthy people were totally 
 devoid of curiosity — they were sinple-minded— 
 and they reposed an illimitable confidence in me. 
 On rejoining them in the drawing-room, I gave 
 them to understand that Beda had fallen in with 
 some old acquaintances, and that hence her re- 
 peated absences from the house. I added that I 
 bad been with her to assure myself that she had 
 fallen into no disreputable company ; and that her 
 explanations had been delayed till the evening in 
 order that she might have an opportunity of show- 
 ing me who her friends were and satisfying me on 
 every point. The Normans were themselves 
 satisfied with all that I thus said ; and scarcely 
 had I finished those meagre explanations, when 
 the landlady of the house came rushing into the 
 room, to announce that a vessel had gone down 
 in the harbour. 
 
 Mr. Norman started up ; and looking at his 
 watch found that it was close upon eleven o'clock : 
 but as the night was gloriously fine, the heavens 
 being gemmed with stars, he resolved to walk 
 forth and view whatsoever was to be seen of the 
 catastrophe. Mrs. Norman agreed to accompany 
 him : I was about to refuse, when it suddetily 
 struck mo that I should perhaps do well to glean 
 upon the spot, if possible, whatsoever surmises and 
 conjectures I might there hear passing around. 
 We accordingly issued forth ; and the pier was
 
 232 
 
 EX.LEN PEBCT; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OP AH ACTBES3. 
 
 soon reached. A great crowd was collected in the i 
 neighbourhood of the sunken vessel, which had ' 
 evidently gone down quite straight— for the tall 
 tapering masts wore in an upright position. The 
 tide had begun to ebb ; and the water was only 
 just rippling over the deck — so that the bulwarks 
 were clearly visible above the surface. There was 
 a great chattering amongst the assembled specta- 
 tors : but I speedily found the universal impres- 
 sion to be that the yacht had started a plank— as 
 indeed there was no other feasible cause for con- 
 jecture. Several sailors belonging to the vessel 
 were present : I was enabled to recognise them by 
 the uniformity of their apparel, which precisely re- 
 sembled the dress worn by William Lardner. He 
 himself I likewise saw ; and that he recognised 
 me also, I was convinced — because he for a few 
 moments placed himself near the spot where the 
 Normans and I bad halted ; and getting into con- 
 versation with a byestander, he intimated that 
 there could be no doubt the yacht had started a 
 plank. I understood his meanirvg : it was in- 
 tended to convey to me the assurance that the 
 real truth was unsuspected. 
 
 After having remained for some little while 
 upon the pier, we returned to the lodgings ; and 
 when I sought my couch, sleep stole upon me 
 amidst the reflections which the incidents of that 
 day had naturally engendered. Wild fantastic 
 dreams began to haunt me. I fancied that I was 
 fast secured in the cabin of a vessel which was 
 sinking — that I heard the hurried trampling 
 of feet upon the deck overhead — the bustle of 
 affrighted seamen, mingling with the ominous 
 gush of waters in the hold beneath. Then me- 
 thought that the handsome countenance of St. 
 Clair was gazing in upon me through some open- 
 ing in that cabin, with the look of sinister mis- 
 chief that his face was wont at times to express : 
 and then it appeared as if that countenance gra- 
 dually changed, with the effect of a dissolving 
 Tiew, into the more beautifully feminine but not 
 less wicked-looking lineaments of Lady Lilla Es- 
 sendine. Again there was a change in the subject 
 of my dreams ; and now methought that I was 
 suddenly transported into a magnificently fur- 
 nished apartment, where a horrible spectacle met 
 my view. It was the faithful— Oh ! too hideously 
 faithful representation of the picture which Zarah 
 had described to me — the picture of that scene 
 which Beatrice had also described in such ap- 
 palling terms. Methought that I beheld the 
 corpse of Angelo Morano suspended to the ceiling 
 in the place where a chandelier ought to hang — 
 Beatrice, half dismayed and half frantic, kneeling 
 at its feet, and adjuring it to proclaim her inno- 
 cence from its inanimate lips— and the Count 
 himself leaning against the wall, with his arms 
 lolded across his chest, his natuiiUy sinister coun- 
 tenance shaded in the still deeper gloom of his 
 broad brimmed hat. Yes— there was the whole 
 scene, depicted to my vision with a vivid painful- 
 ness ; and though methought that I endeavoured 
 to close my eyes, yet I could not : an irresistible 
 fascination retained them open, and compelled me 
 to keep my regards riveted on that hideous phan- 
 tasmagoria. In short, I was under the influence 
 of a frightful nightmare— until all of a sudden I 
 awoke with a start, and with the consciousness 
 that a cry had just burst from my lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 MAUT AND HER MOTHER. 
 
 It was still quite dark; and for a few minutes 1 
 felt afraid. There was a vague terror in my 
 mind: but it was gradually dispelled by the exer- 
 cise of my reasoning powers. Still, after so hor- 
 rible a dream as this, it was only natural that its 
 influence should remain for some little while 
 behind, and that there should even be a doubt 
 whether it were a reality or only a vision. 
 
 I could not readily compose myself to sleep 
 again ; and I lay reflecting upon all that had 
 occurred during the memorable evening which 
 was succeeded by this night of hideous dreams. 
 I saw that I must not hope that Edwin St. Clair 
 or Lady Lilla Essendine would leave me unmo- 
 lested ; for that even if for a time they seemed to 
 be quiescent, it was only that during this leisure 
 they might prepare fresh machinations and mature 
 new plans. But there was something appalling in th» 
 thought that these wretches were seeking after my 
 life, and that I was so trammelled by circumstances 
 as to be unable to invoke the aid of the law. I 
 was really frightened as I thus meditated. Some 
 day, sooner or later, they might catch me un- 
 awares—I might stumble into some pitfall so care- 
 fully concealed and so treacherously designed as to 
 defy all precaution. What was I to do ? To 
 propose terms to such vile miscreants as these— 
 to promise to respect their secrets if they would 
 only leave me unmolested — or to confess the truth, 
 which was that though I suspected much, I had a 
 real knowledge of comparatively nothing. No ! — 
 I could not bring myself to the humiliating alter- 
 native of negotiating with such persons — even 
 though this negotiation might regard my vo-y 
 life ! In short I knew not how to act : but I 
 congratulated myself on possessing so faithful and 
 intelligent a friend as Beda — for I could not 
 think of her in the light of a menial. 
 
 Sleep again stole gradually upon my eyes ; and 
 now I slumbered on without the recurrence of ary 
 of those dreams which in the earlier part of tbe 
 night had horrified and appalled me. When I 
 awoke, the sun was shining in at the window : my 
 spirits were cheered and my heart was gladdened 
 by its rays. Having finished my toilet, I 
 descended to the break 'ast-parlour, where I found 
 Mr. Norman just preparing to sally out for his 
 morning's stroll before the repast was served up. 
 He asked me to accompany him; for his wifo 
 seldom went out so early. I not only longed to 
 court the refreshing breeze of the sea — but like- 
 wise to ascertain whether anything was being done 
 in respect to the sunken vessel. I therefore went 
 out with Mr. Norman. 
 
 We reached the harbour ; and we saw that there 
 was again a considerable crowd collected near the 
 spot where the yacht lay. It struck me even from 
 a distance that the masts seemed to be higher than 
 when I had observed them at about eleven o'clock 
 on the previous night ; and Mr. Norman himself 
 noticed the same fact — for he exclaimed, " I do 
 really believe they have managed to float her 
 again !" 
 
 Such was the truth : it was now high water 
 once more; and there floated the yacht, as buoyant
 
 EiiLEx rr.ECT; ok, the mejioies of ax actkess. 
 
 2ci3 
 
 and lying as gracefully upon the water as when 
 I had first seen her. As we drew near the crowd 
 of assembled spectators, William Lardner passed 
 bj : and he flung a quick glance of recognition 
 upon me — a look which significantly conveyed the 
 intimation that something had occurred. He was 
 dressed as I had seen him on the preceding even- 
 ing: and I felt assured by his manner that he 
 wished to speak to me. 
 
 " If jou like to go and ascertain how they 
 floated the yacht," I said to Mr. Norman, " I will 
 wait for you here, a little apart from the crowd." 
 
 " Do so, Ellen," he replied : and he was speedily 
 lost to my view in the throng amidst which he 
 pushed his way. 
 
 I retreated to a little distance : and William 
 Lardner almost immediately accosted me. He- 
 spectfuUy touching his hat, he hastened to say in 
 a low tone, " Captain St. Clair returned to £am8< 
 gate at midnight. Immediately upon hearing that 
 No. 30.— Ellen Peecy. 
 
 the yacht was sunk, he came down to the pier ; 
 and I saw that he was terribly agitated. Ho 
 questioned me. I told him that I was the only 
 person on board at the time j and that finding the 
 vessel was filling, I could not do otherwise than 
 abandon it to its fate. He looked very hard at 
 me : but I maintained my countenance. The tide 
 was all out at about two o'clock this morning; and 
 the vessel lay nearly dry. He descended into the 
 cabin, where ho remained for a few minutes ; and 
 as a matter of course he turned the handle in such 
 a way as to close the trap. door. On coming up 
 from the cabin again, he took mo aside, and ac- 
 cused me of having broken open the door leading 
 to the inner cabin. I did not choose to give the 
 charge a flat denial : I assumed the indignant, and 
 I said that since I had become an object of sus- 
 picioD, I should no longer remain in his service. 
 He seemed bewildered how to act : but at length 
 he besought me to reveal everything that either I
 
 234 
 
 EtLESr PEBCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OE AK ACTBES8. 
 
 myself had done or that I knew to have been done, 
 and ho vowed that he would pardon me. I turned 
 on my heel, and walked away. He mingled 
 amongst the men, and told them that a plug had 
 come out— that there was a trap-door in his cabin 
 by which he had discovered it— and that it was 
 now fitted with another. They evidently thought 
 the tale a stracge one : but they made no remark. 
 The Captain went away, having previously locked 
 the entrance to his cabins, so that no one should 
 penetrate into either. The men asked me what 
 he had been saying : I contented myself by reply- 
 ing that he had merely been questioning me rela- 
 tive to the accident. They all think there is some- 
 thing singular somewhere— but they know not 
 what. Sailors, you know, Miss, are apt to be 
 superstitious; and this sinking of the vessel for a 
 reason that is so clumsily explained, has produced 
 its effect upon those men. They were not there- 
 fore surprised when I intimated my intention of 
 leaving the vessel to-day. As the tide came in, 
 she floated agair', just as if no harm had ever be- 
 fallen her." 
 
 "And what are you now going to do?" I in- 
 quired ; " for you still wear the dreaa of a sailor 
 belonging to the yacht." 
 
 " The Captain came down again at about seven 
 o'clock this morning," replied William: "and 
 again did he question me. But I would of course 
 admit nothing ; and I told him plainly of my de- 
 termination to leave. He has given orders that 
 the yacht is to be got under weigh socn after ten 
 o'clock ; and he is going across to Dunkirk, where, 
 as I heard him tell the mate, he should have her 
 thoroughly looked to. As for myself, Miss, I am 
 now going up into the town to buy myself some 
 clothes : then I throw off these that I have 
 got on— and I shall breathe all the more freely 
 when out of the power of such a master." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Norman was returning ; 
 and William Lardner, with another respectful 
 touch of the hat, sped away — thus preventing me 
 from offering him the remuneration which I in- 
 tended, if possible, to force upon his acceptance. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Norman, as I again took his 
 arm and we turned to retrace our steps homeward, 
 " I suppose that sailor has been telling you what 
 was the cause of the accident. It seems that 
 those lubberly French shipwrights who built the 
 vessel " 
 
 "Yes — I have heard it all," I interrupted him. 
 "I believe the yacht is to sail almost imme- 
 diately ?" 
 
 " So I am told," answered Mr. Norman. "But 
 what do you think ? It belongs to a gentleman 
 named St. Clair ; and from all I learnt it must be 
 that very same St. Clair who used to visit at our 
 house in London, but who suddenly left off calling, 
 I never could precisely ascertain why." 
 
 " Yes, it is that same Captain St. Clair," I re- 
 joined. " I have learnt thus much," 
 
 Mr. Norman went on talking in reference to the 
 accident to the vessel : he little thought how much 
 I could have enlightened him upon the subject ! 
 We reached the lodgings ; and after breakfast I 
 found an opportunity of being alone with Beda. 
 I told her all that I had heard, and bade her go 
 out to ascertain any other particulars which she 
 might be enabled to pick up ; for I intended to 
 delay my departure from Kamsgate until the 
 
 afternoon. She went out accordingly, and was 
 about an hour absent. 
 
 " I have seen. William Lardner," she said, " and 
 have learnt something more. He went to pur- 
 chase his clothes, and then returned to the vessel 
 to change them and fetch away what else belonged 
 to him. Captain St. Clair went on board shortly 
 after nine o'clock, and bade William follow him to 
 the cabin. You may suppose. Miss, in what a 
 state those beautiful little rooms must be after 
 being filled with water for some hours ! When 
 they were alone together. Captain St. Clair imme- 
 diately said to William, ' I know that jou are at 
 the bottom of all this ; it is useless for you to 
 deny it. Last night, between nine and ton o'clock, 
 two females, coming from the direction of the 
 yacht, met the lady whom you have seen on board 
 with me ; and one of them whispered to her some- 
 thing which proved that there has been treachery 
 at work. Besides,' added Captain St. Clair, 'there 
 is a letter missing from the writing-case in the 
 inner cabin ; and this door has been forced open.' 
 Then William Lardner fixed bis eyes upon St. 
 Clair, and said to hioq, ' You had better not ask 
 me, sir, any more upon the subject. If you think 
 I am in your power you had bstter try it : give 
 me into custody ; and we shall see who will come 
 best off.'— Captain St. Clair produced a handful 
 of gold and bank-notes : bi^t William Lardner 
 turned upon his heel, hastened up the stairs, and a 
 few minutes afterwards left the yacht. — I have 
 bidden him farewell," added Beda, in a voice that 
 was now slightly, tremulous; "he is going else- 
 where to look for another ship ; but I told him 
 that he might write to me occasionally." 
 
 It was tolerably evident that Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine had not on the previous evening suspected 
 that I was one of the " two females" to whom St. 
 Clair had alluded in his conversation with William 
 Lardner. I could fancy how bewildered and dis- 
 mayed the two conspirators must be at finding 
 that their plan was so completely bafflod — and 
 how infi.nite must be their wonderment and sus- 
 pense in respect to the mode by which all their 
 treacherous designs had become known. 
 
 " There 1" esclaimed Beda, who had happened 
 to glance forth from the window, which was open 
 and commanded a full view of the harbour : 
 " the yacht is sailing:." 
 
 And it was so. Her white sails were spread : 
 but they had not as yet fully caught the breeze ; 
 she was therefore moving slowly yet gracefully 
 out of the basin, crowds being still coll.cted on 
 the piers to behold her. 
 
 I went out into the town to purchase some 
 little presents as a token of my gratitude for 
 Beda ; and at two o'clock I took my departure by 
 tlie coach for Dover. We had to pass through 
 Deal ; and the vehicle stopped to take up two 
 ladies, who were walking on the Walmer Road, a 
 little beyond the town. Hitherto I had been the 
 sold occupant of the interior of the coach ; and 
 I wos aroused from my reflections to make room 
 for the new-cotners. To my surprise one of the 
 ladies was none other than Mary Glentworth; and 
 she gave vent to an ejaculation of joy on beholding 
 me. I shook hands warmly with her ; and it was 
 with equal cordiality that she returned the pres- 
 sure. 
 
 " Allow me "to introduce you to my dear
 
 ELLEN PKECT; OR, THE :,ii;AI0IK3 OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 235 
 
 mo'.her," she saicl, with nil that artlessness wbicli 
 was natural to her. " This, mamma," she added, 
 turning to her companion, " is the young lady of 
 whom I spoke to you and who promised to Tisit 
 me again." 
 
 It was ill the eiFusion of my friendly feelings, 
 my compassion and my sympathy for Miss Glent- 
 Vtorth, that I had obeyed a natural impulse by 
 proffering my hand so cordially. But now that 
 she presented me to her mother, all that I heard 
 from Mrs. Oldcastle rushed to my memory ; and it 
 was only a cold distant bow that I bestowed upon 
 Mrs. Glcntworth. Her daughter did not bow. 
 ever observe my frigidity of look and manner — for 
 she was at the instant settling herself in her 
 place within the narrow compass of that most 
 limited of all conveyances — the interior of a 
 country branch-coach. Mrs. Glentworfch gave a 
 slight and scarcely perceptible inclination of the 
 head : but her countenance denoted not the least 
 confusion. On the conirary, there was a calm 
 lady -like self-possession about her, which struck 
 me as being either indicative of conscious inno ■ 
 cence, or els-^ of the consummate art of dissimu- 
 lation. She was about thirty-eight or forty years 
 of age, — retaining the traces of beauty of no com- 
 mon order, but which had evidently been marred 
 by either ill health or care— methought by both 
 combined. She was rather tall of stature, and 
 well shaped. Her attire was plain, yet displaying 
 the most perfect good taste : it was lady-like and 
 genteel, without pretension. Altogether Mrs. 
 Glentworth was a person in whom, for her own 
 sake as well as for her daughter's, I could have 
 become interested, were it not for the narrative 
 which I had received from the lips of Mrs. Old- 
 castle. 
 
 " You promised to pay me another visit," said 
 Miss Glentworth ; *•' and it was a week ago that 
 I first had the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 " I was in the first instance compelled," I an- 
 swered, " to devote myself to the friends whom I 
 wect to visit at Eiver House ; and yesterday I 
 proceeded to Eamsgate to see some other friends 
 who are staying there." 
 
 " You therefore perceive, my dear Mary," said 
 Mrs. Glentworth, mildly and yet with a certain 
 accent of decisiveness, " that this young lady's 
 time has been completely occupied ; and doubtless 
 it will continue so during her stay at River 
 House." 
 
 I perfectly well comprehended that this speech 
 was purposed to silence Mary Gleutworth's im- 
 plied invitation for me to visit her : but the art- 
 less girl herself did not take it iu the same light; 
 for she evidently neither knew nor suspected the 
 existence of any reason wherefore I should not 
 ■visit her, or why an intimacy should not spring 
 up between us. She therefore went on speaking 
 in that same strain which her mother had en- 
 deavoured to interrupt— till I myself gave the 
 conversation a turn ; and Mary reverted not to 
 the first topic during the remainder of the dis- 
 tance of some seven or eight miles which had to 
 be accomplished before Dover was reached. Mrs. 
 Glentworth remained silent almost the whole 
 way : but when she occasionally threw in a word, 
 it was addressed to her daughter and not to me. 
 Mary herself sustained the discourse ; and I 
 treated her with as much kindness of manner as 
 
 I Could possibly display; for I not merely coiniuise- 
 rated her, but I could not help entertaining a 
 sentiment of friendship for the poor girl who was 
 made to suffer, though unconsciously, on her 
 mother's account. 
 
 When Dover was reached, and the coach 
 stopped at its office, Mary asked mo if I iu- 
 tended to walk to Eiver House ? — adding, bsfore 
 I could answer the question, " For if so, I shall 
 enjoy the pleasure of your company some little 
 time longer." 
 
 "We cannot immediately set out for the Cot- 
 tage, my dear Mary," said Mia. Glentworth. " I 
 have some shopping to do— several purchases to 
 make— and therefore we will not interfere with 
 this young lady's arrangements." 
 
 Mary for a moment looked disappointed ; and 
 taking my hand, she said, " But you will come 
 and see me again — will you not .^" 
 
 " Yes," I answered, — " most assuredly :" for 
 how could I possibly wound the feelings or distress 
 the heart of that amiable girl ? 
 
 It seemed to me that for an instant Mrs. Glent- 
 worth bent upon me a half-mournful look of gra- 
 titude: but I was not altogether sure— for the next 
 moment she bowed coldly and walked away with 
 her daughter. 
 
 As I was proceeding through the streets, think- 
 ing of my interview with the Glentworths, nud 
 wondering hoW I could possibly keep my promise 
 to revisit Mary, I happened to glance through the 
 window of a large print-shop which I was pass- 
 ing ; and there I was struck by beholding a por- 
 trait of myself. It was a lithographic print, and 
 was very well executed,— although I had not sat 
 to have my likeness taken for the original of any 
 such picture. There were several other persona 
 looking in at the shop-window ; and I therefore 
 did not choose to tarry upon the spot : but as I 
 pursued my way, I thought to myself that Mary 
 Glentworth would now most probably soon dis- 
 cover who I was ; for she would presently have to 
 pass by that very same shop on her way home- 
 ward. 
 
 I continued my walk ; and the Cottage where 
 the Glentworths dwelt was already in sight, when 
 a stage-coach, coming from the opposite direction 
 — namely, from C:interbury or London— suddenly 
 pulled up in front of the picturesque little habita- 
 tion. I saw a gentleman alight from the interior ; 
 a small carpet bag was handed to him : he entered 
 the garden— and the coach drove on. As I passed 
 the Cottage, I caught a glimpse of the gentleman 
 through one of the parlour-windows : but it was 
 so transient and casual as to prevent me from 
 being enabled to see what ho was like — or whether 
 old or young. But I recollected that Mrs. Old- 
 castle had told mo how the gentleman from whose 
 purse Mrs. Glentworth derived her income, occa- 
 sionally visited at the Cottage ; and I coulJ not 
 help agreeing in my own mind with the observa- 
 tion which the old lady had made at the time, to 
 the effect that it was an indelicate proceeding. 
 The incident therefore decided mo that I would 
 not visit Mary Glentworth : but I was grieved 
 and even distressed at the necessity of arriving at 
 such a conclusion. 
 
 I reached Eiver House; and found that Juliet 
 was progressing as favourably as could be desired 
 — while the babe gave equal promise of healthful-
 
 ness. I was euabled to assure Juliet that bcr 
 parents were quite well, and that they were enjoy- 
 ing themselves at Ramsgate as much as was pos- 
 sible considering the circumstances which com- 
 pelled them to remain separate from their much- 
 loved daughter. 
 
 It was in the evening of the following day that 
 I was rambling out by myself through the adjacent 
 fields, — when, as I was drawing near a stile, I per- 
 ceived Mary Q-lentworth hastening to me from the 
 opposite direction. Towards her, now that we 
 were alone together, I was resolved to maintain 
 that flir of friendliness which I had hitherto worn. 
 We both reached the stile at the same instant : 
 but instead of immediately accepting my hand, she 
 gazed upon mo with a half earnest, half joyous 
 expression of countenance ; and then she suddenly 
 exclaimed, "Yes— it must be ! You yourself are 
 Miss Irafford !" 
 
 I smiled, as she now took my hand, which she 
 pressed with effusion ; and she cried, " Oh, why 
 did you not tell me so at first ? You know not 
 what pleasure you would have afforded me ! And 
 I who spoke to jou about yourself on that very 
 first occasion when we met!" 
 
 " I can assure you, my dear Miss Grlentworth," 
 I answered, " I had no particular reason for making 
 a mystery of the fact — unless it were that being 
 sated with popularity for a season, I wished to 
 remain as secluded as possible during my vacation 
 at Eiver House." 
 
 " Ob, I saw your portrait in a print-shop yester- 
 day at Dover!" exclaimed Mary; "and you may 
 conceive my astonishment when I recognised it. 
 I purchased it; and I do believe that when I got 
 home I should have done nothing but contemplate 
 it for all the remainder of the day, only that we 
 found some one had arrived to whom I was bound 
 to devote all my attention !" 
 
 " Indeed," I said, not knowing precisely what 
 remark to make. 
 
 " Yes— I found my dear uncle waiting for us at 
 the Cottage," proceeded Mary Olentworth ; " and 
 whenever he comes to visit us — which he does 
 every now and then for a day or two at a time — 
 he is always so kind and good to me, that I am 
 only too happy to show how much I love him iu 
 return. He came by the coach yesterday ; and he 
 will not go away until to-morrow. I should have 
 been so pleased to tell him that I had accidentally 
 formed your acquaintance: but my mother bade 
 me say nothing upon the subject — for it seems to 
 be my uncle's wish, as well as her own inclina- 
 tion, that we should live as secluded as we are 
 doing." 
 
 "Your uncle, then, I presume, lives at some 
 distance ?" I observed, rather by way of saying 
 something than because I had any curiosity upon 
 the point : for after what Mrs. Oldcastle had told 
 me, I more than fancied that it was really no uncle 
 at all— but perhaps even a much nearer relative, 
 though Mary might suspect it not. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Glentworth lives in London," was 
 her prompt and ingenuous answer. " He is the 
 brother of my poor father, who has long been 
 dead. Indeed he died in my infa'ncy — and there- 
 fore I have not the slightest recollection of him." 
 
 "After all," I thought to myself, " what if the 
 whole tale, as Mary has been taught it, and as she 
 is now telling it to me, — what if it be true ? And 
 
 what if some family reasons, unknown to the 
 world iu genera), have doomed Mrs. Glentworth 
 to her present existence of seclusion ?" 
 
 Such was the charitable construction which I 
 endeavoured to put upon the matter ; yet I could 
 not persuade myself that it was so ; for it fell to 
 the ground in the presence of that part of Mrs. 
 Oldcastle's narrative which declared that Mrs. 
 Glentworth's real character had been thoroughly 
 unmasked some years back at Hastings. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Trafi'ord I" continued Mary Glent- 
 worth, " I do hope that I shall have the pleasure 
 of at least an hour's conversation with you some 
 day before you leave this part of the country : for 
 I have already confessed to you my admiration for 
 those beautiful creations of Shakspere by the per- 
 sonification of which you have earned so much 
 fame, I cannot remain here now any longer — I 
 have merely been to take something to a poor 
 woman who lives in yonder hut — and I must 
 return home as speedily as possible." 
 
 " We shall see each other again, my dear Miss 
 Glentworth," I answered, — thus evading the ne- 
 cessity of giving any definite reply in respect to 
 my promised visit. 
 
 We shook hands and separated,— Mary hasten- 
 ing in one direction, while I proceeded in the 
 other. I continued my walk, pondering all she 
 had said in respect to her alleged uncle, and 
 hoping for the young lady's sake that it was con- 
 sistent with truth, — when I reached the hut which 
 had been the object of her visit. Hsmembering 
 that she had spoken of some poor woman who 
 dwelt there, I felt inclined to ascertain whether 
 any little additional charity which I might be able 
 to afford, would prove of any service ; and I 
 entered accordingly. In that cottage I heard a 
 tale which proved how Mary Glentworth and her 
 mother did much good in secret— privately and 
 without ostentation ; for I found that this was by 
 no means an isolated case in which poverty had 
 been succoured and sickness ministered unto by 
 those ladies. I gave something from my own 
 purse to the poor dwellers in that cottage ; and I 
 began slowly to retrace my way homeward, sorrow- 
 fully reflecting on the evil which I had heard from 
 Mrs. Oldcastle in respect to Mrs. Glentworth, and 
 sincerely hoping that despite all circumstantial 
 evidence it might be in reality naught but the 
 echo of whispered calumny. 
 
 I was already in the neighbourhood of Eiver 
 House, when I observed Mrs. Glentworth herself 
 approaching through the same field which I was 
 traversing. It at first struck me that she was 
 perhaps on her way to visit the same cottage 
 where I had so recently been : but then me- 
 thought that she would scarcely follow so closely 
 in the steps of her daughtei", as there was uo 
 pressing necessity for such a double act of charity 
 at the cottage itself, and moreover as she bad a 
 visitor at her own home. In a few minutes we 
 met; and instead of passing me by, as I had ex- 
 pected, Mrs. Glentworth stopped, — saying, " Will 
 you permit me, Miss Trafi'ord, to have a few words 
 with you ?" 
 
 I bowed, and stood still. 
 
 " You saw some one arrive at my dwelling yes- 
 terday," she continued ; " and you doubtless recog- 
 nised him ? May I hope that with that delicacy 
 of feeling for which the world so justly gives you
 
 credit, you bavo abstained froca naming hitu to 
 your friends at liiver House ?" 
 
 " I can assure you, Mrs. Glentworth," I an- 
 swered, astonished at tbe speech which was thus 
 addressed to me, " that I did not recognise the 
 gentleman who called at your dwelling. I saw 
 
 bim alight from the coach " 
 
 " And you did not recognise him ?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Glentworth with a sudden lighting-up of the 
 countenance, as if she experienced an indescribable 
 relief. "Yet he saw you — he knew you — it even 
 struck him that as you passed the cottage, you 
 
 glanced at tbe windows " 
 
 " I may have done so, Mrs. Glentworth," I re- 
 sponded ; " but it was through no feeling of 
 curiosity. As for the gentleman, whoever he may 
 be, I repeat my assurance that I recognised him 
 not." 
 
 " My daughter just now told mo that you were 
 walking in this direction," resumed Mrs. Glent- 
 worth ; " and I resolved to come forth in the hope 
 of meeting you. I am glad that I have done so. 
 And now permit me, Miss Trafford, to express my 
 warmest gratitude for the kind manner in which 
 you have dealt with my daughter. I understood 
 full well all that must have been passing in your 
 mind when we were fellow-travellers yesterday ; 
 and believe me, I appreciated the mingled gene- 
 rosity and delicacy with which you answered the 
 poor girl's repeated invitations that you would 
 renew your visit." 
 
 " I had conceived a friendship for Miss Glent' 
 worth," I replied: "she is amiable and open- 
 hearted " 
 
 " She is the best and most affectionate of 
 daughters !" ejaculated Mrs. Glentworth ; and 
 then the tears started from her eyes. " Miss 
 Trafford," she hastily added, " your kindness to- 
 wards her is something that I never can forget !" 
 With these words she abruptly turned away ; 
 and retracing her ateps across the deid, was soon 
 concealed from my view by a little copse which 
 she had to traverse in order to reach her own 
 home. She left me full of astonishment. Who 
 could the person be that was now staying at 
 her house, passing as her brother-in-law and as 
 Mary's uncle ? — wherefore should there have been 
 so much apprehension lest I had recognised him 
 
 " Do you mean Miss Glentworth ?" I aaked, 
 horrified by the aanouncement which had juat 
 smitten my ear. 
 
 "Yes! for God's sake come!" repeated the 
 maid-servant : and when she saw that I hesitated 
 not another instant to open the gate, she darted 
 away again in the direction of the Cottage, evi- 
 dently to announce that her mission had been suc- 
 cessful and that I was on my way thither. 
 
 I sped with all possible haste — every other con- 
 sideration being absorbed ia the sense of a para- 
 mount Christian duty which I was called upon to 
 fulfil. In a very few minutes I reached the Cot- 
 tage. The maid-servant met me on the threshold 
 of the front-door, which stood open ; and to the 
 hurried question which I put, I received the 
 answer that Mrs. Glentworth yet lived, but that 
 her distracted daughter thought that she was 
 dying. 
 
 " And has no medical man been sent for ?" I 
 anxiously inquired. 
 
 " Yes ! Mr. Glentworth has gone for one," was 
 the servant's response. " But come, Miss ! This 
 way !" 
 
 She led me up the staircase ; and I was shown 
 into a bed-chamber where Mrs. Glentworth was 
 lying half undressed upon the bed and Mary was 
 giving way to piteous lamentations. I saw at 
 once that her mother was in a state of uncon- 
 sciousness; but that she still lived was evident 
 from the feeble yet painful gaspings which she 
 made for breath. The instant Mary beheld me, 
 she flew towards me, exclaiming in a half frenzied 
 voice, " Oh, Miss Trafford ! save my dear mother !" 
 I perceived that everything had been done 
 which unskilled human aid could possibly do, 
 while awaiting medical assistance. Mrs. Glent- 
 worth's apparel had been loosened— some taken 
 off: her head was propped up with pillows— there 
 was an odour of vinegar in the room — and bottles 
 of volatile essences stood upon a side-table. I was 
 just about to speak some soothing words to Miss 
 Glentworth, when the sounds of men's footsteps 
 hastily ascending the staircase reached our ears ; 
 and Mary exclaimed, " Heaven be thanked ! my 
 uncle and the surgeon !" 
 
 The next instant two gentlemen made their ap- 
 pearance : one was the medical man who had been 
 
 and revealed his name ? I was bewildered what | hastily fetched — and who, I should observe, was 
 
 to think :— but in respect to Mrs. Glentworth her 
 self, I feared, from what had just taken place 
 between us, that there was more reason than ever 
 to believe tbe tale which I had heard concerning 
 her. 
 
 I returned to Biver House ; and after tea, as 
 tbe evening was most deliciously serene, I walked 
 in the gardens attached to the dnrelling. It was 
 about nine o'clock that I happened to be standing 
 at the front gate — contemplating the high bold 
 outlines of Dover Castle, which was plainly visible 
 from that spot— when a young female, evidently 
 a servant-maid, rushed towards me, exclaiming, 
 "Oh ! are you Miss Trafford ?" 
 
 " I am," was my answer. "But good heavens ! 
 who are you ? what has happened ? wherefore this 
 wildness of your looks i" 
 
 " Pray come to the Cottage ! for God's sake 
 come !" cried the girl, who seemed to be half fren- 
 zied. "My mistress is dying ! — it is young Miss 
 who has sent me ■" 
 
 not the same that had attended upon Juliet : but 
 the other — what words can depict my astonish- 
 ment on recognising the Duke of Ardleigh ! 
 
 And this recognition was mutual. There was a 
 momentary start— a transitory confusion on the 
 part of his Grace j and then quickly accosting me, 
 he said in the lowest possible whisper that could 
 be audible to my ear alone, "Xame me not!— 
 name me not. Miss Trafford, I beseech you !" 
 
 I flung upon him a glance which significantly 
 implied that his secret was sacred with me; and 
 this little incident passed unperceived by the 
 others present — for the surgeon was already by 
 the bed-side of Mrs. Glentworth, while Mary and 
 the maidservant were gazing with anxiety upon 
 the countenance of him whose first look or word 
 might put an end to all suspense by declaring that 
 there was hope or that there was none ! 
 
 I now advanced towards the couch, as did the 
 Duke of Ardleigh also; and the next moment 
 Mary Glentworth sank with a convulsing sob
 
 ELLEN FEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTHESS. 
 
 upon her knees; for sbo had gathered from the 
 countenance of the medical man that there was 
 indeed no hope. 
 
 " Take the young lady away," said the surgeon, 
 turning to the Da!io of Ardleigh and speaking in 
 a low whisper : " in a few minutes her mother 
 will bs no more! No human aid can save her I" 
 
 Notwithstanding that these words were cau- 
 tiously uttered in the lowest possible whisper, they 
 nevertheless caught the ears of the unfortunate 
 girl whom they so deeply regarded ; and then an 
 anguishing, agonizing scene took place. She 
 threw herself upon the unconscious form of her 
 mother, beseeching that beloved parent to open 
 her eyes — to look upon her, if only for an instant 
 — to speak a word, if only a single one — to live 
 for the sake of that daughter who so deeply and 
 devotedly loved her ! The tears were raining 
 down my cheeks : the Duke was powerfully 
 affected : the young maid-servant wept bitterly ; the 
 surgeon, though doubtless well accustomed to look 
 upon death-bed scenes, was himself much moved. 
 At length there was a wild shriek which came 
 pealing from Mary's lips — a shriek so piercing 
 that it seemed sufficient to rend the brain of each 
 who heard it, and to rive the very walls asunder. 
 That shriek was uttered at the instant the unfor- 
 tunate girl was smitten with the conviction that 
 all was over and that her parent was no more. 
 Then pressing her hands in wildest frenzy to her 
 brows, she would have fallen back had not I sus- 
 tained her in my arms. 
 
 She had fainted; and we bore her to another 
 chamber. It was a long time ere she recovered — 
 and then it was again a long time ere she could 
 believe that it was otherwise than a frightful 
 dream through which she had been passing. But 
 when she could no longer shut out from herself 
 the conviction of the awful truth, she gave way to 
 the frenzied wildness of her grief : she would have 
 flown to the death-chamber, had not the maid- 
 servant and myself restrained her. When that 
 paroxysm of the ineifable agony of her mind was 
 passed, the poor girl sank into the torpor of blank 
 despair— that condition of mind which is so close 
 upon apathy itself that it must have been wisely 
 intended by heaven as a means to save the racked 
 and over- wrought brain from utter madness. 
 
 I was determined not to leave !Mary Glentworth 
 that night. I penned a hasty note to Mrs. Old- 
 castle, to state what had occurred, and wherefore I 
 absented rjjself from River House; and I sent 
 the billet by the mai Isorvant. 
 
 The surgeon took his departure : the Duke of 
 Ardleigh came up to the chamber, where I had 
 now remained alone with Mary Glentworth ; and 
 bending over her, as she lay upon the couch, he 
 said with a deeper feeling than I could have 
 thought him capable of, " My dearest girl, hence- 
 forth you shall find a father in me !" 
 
 Mary only raised her eyes vacantly towards his 
 countenance; and I motioned his lordship to with- 
 draw — for I saw that her mind was now so utterly 
 exhausted and that her physical strength was 
 likewise so prostrated, it was probable she would 
 sink into sleep— and I hoped that such would be 
 the case. My expectations were fulfilled — my 
 wish was gratified : her eyes gradually closed— 
 and she slumbered. 
 The maid-servant returned : I left Miss Glent- 
 
 I worth in the care of the young woman ; and I 
 descended to the parlour — for I had seen by the 
 Duke's manner, when he came up to the bed- 
 room, that he wished to speak to me. Oa enter- 
 ing the parlour I found him pacing to and fro in 
 an agitated manner ; and so absorbed was he in 
 his thoughts, that he did not immediately perceive 
 me. I closed the door; and the sound which it 
 made when shutting attracted his attention. He 
 advanced towards me ; and seizing my hand, 
 shook it warmly,— saying, " You have acted a 
 generous part towards me, and a kind one to- 
 wards poor Mary." 
 
 I had not forgotten how the Duke of Ardleigh 
 had dared some little while back to make 
 me a particular overture, through the medium 
 of Mr. Peaseblossom ; and how that proceeding 
 on his part had led to unpleasant consequences 
 with myself, his son, and the Duchess. I therefore 
 could entertain but little respect or friendship for 
 the Duke of Ardleigh : yet this was not an occa- 
 sion to exhibit any hostile feeling towards him, nor 
 even to treat him with unnecessary coldness ; for by 
 the incidents of the evening I had become almost 
 completely convinced that he had the best possible 
 reason for assuring Mary that she should thence- 
 forth find a father in him. 
 
 " And you have not mentioned, Miss Traflford, 
 to poor Mary that you know who I am— that I 
 am other than she thinks me P" 
 
 " No, my lord," I responded. " By a look I 
 gave your Grace to understand at the very outset, 
 that your secret was safe with me. But if my 
 surmise be correct, my lord, there ought no longer 
 to be any mystery " 
 
 " What ! Miss Trafford !" he exclaimed : " re- 
 veal to Mary the story of her mother's shame — 
 suffer her to learn that I whom she regards as her 
 uncle, am indeed " 
 
 He stopped short ; and I added impressively, 
 " Her own father !" 
 
 "Yes — it is so," rejoined the Duke : and then 
 he resumed his agitated walk to and fro in the 
 parlour. 
 
 " iirs. Glentworth's illness was very sudden, 
 my lord?" I said. " I met the poor deceased lady 
 only a couple of hours before I was summoned 
 hither to behold her stretched upon the bed of 
 death." 
 
 " Yes it was very sudden," answered the Duke, 
 again stopping short. " She told me that she met 
 you — indeed she went out on purpose. We 
 cherished the belief that if you had recognised me 
 yesterday when I alighted from the coach, your 
 delicacy of feeling and kindness of heart would 
 have prompted you to keep the secret ; but still 
 we were not certain — we wished to have our doubts 
 cleared up — and therefore she went forth to seek 
 you. She came back, tranquillized in her mind: 
 we were seated here together, in this very room— ^ 
 and Mary was with us — when all of a sudden the 
 poor creature gave a start, raised her hand to her 
 head, murmured something incoherently, and fell 
 senseless upon the floor. I rushed off to procure 
 medical attendance " 
 
 " It was doubtless the bursting of a blood- 
 vessel in some vital part," I mournfully observed. 
 "But, my lord, you will soon have to reflect upon 
 the course which you must pursue in respect to 
 your daughter "
 
 ELLEir PEECT; OS, THE MEHOIHS OP AW ACTEESS. 
 
 a39 
 
 " Yes, yes — it is that which is bewildering me !" 
 cried the Duke. " I would not for tho world that 
 the secret should be known to my wife — to my 
 children ! I will provide handsomely for Alary : 
 but where am I to place her, innocent and inex- 
 perienced as she is ! You see, she knows nothing 
 of the world ! Her artlessness, her innocence, her 
 too confiding generosity, would all render her the 
 more easy prey to tho wiles of the temptsr. What 
 can bo dor.e ? For heaven's sake advise me, Miss 
 Trafiord !" 
 
 I reflected for a few minutes. I knew that 
 Mrs. Oldcnstlo possessed a good heart amidst all 
 Ler eccentricities ; and I thought it not altogether 
 improbable that she might afford the orphan Miss 
 Glecto'orth a home, at least for a while, until some 
 other arrangement could be made for her advan- 
 tage. I suggested this to the Duke, — proposing, 
 if he thought fit, to speak to Mrs. Oldcastle on tho 
 subject. 
 
 "Do anything you will. Miss Trafford!" he 
 said : " I really seem to have lost all power of re- 
 flection ! Altogether I am terribly embiirrassed. 
 The Duchess is to meet me at Dover to-morrow : 
 wo are going together on the Continent. She 
 fancies that I am at Hastings, where we have 
 friends residing. She may even have already 
 arrived at Dover for aught that I know— though I 
 have not seen her travelling-carriage pass this 
 way." 
 
 "But it is impossible, my lord," I exclaimed, 
 " that you can leave poor Mary so soon, and in 
 such circumstances. There's the funeral to super- 
 intend. I myself will cheerfully do anything to 
 relieve Mary of anxiety and trouble : but there are 
 certain things which your G-race only can look 
 after. And suppose too that Mrs. Oldcastle 
 should refuse the favour which I purpose to seek 
 at her hands " 
 
 " Good heavens ! I am bewildered !" said the 
 Duke : and bis agitated walk was resumed. " If 
 this were to get to the ears of the Duchess— if she 
 were to learn that even in the first years of our 
 marriage I had contracted this intimacy " 
 
 " Hark, my lord ! — what is that ?" I suddenly 
 ejaculated, as strange alarming sounds broke upon 
 my ears. 
 
 It seemed as if some equipage— a stage-coach, 
 a post-chaise, or travelling-carriage, it was impos- 
 sible to conjecture which — had suddenly come to a 
 full stop, accompanied by a crash as if it were 
 breaking down, and this being followed by the 
 plunging of horses, the confused cries of men, and 
 the screams of women. I rushed out of the house, 
 closely followed by the Duke. It was now eleven 
 o'clock at night : but the heavens were covered 
 with stars— the weather was beautiful — and it was 
 80 light that all objects were clearly discernible. 
 We sped to the gate ; and just at that very in- 
 stant two females were approaching it, — they 
 evidently having alighted from an equipage which 
 had broken down at a distance of about fifty yards. 
 I cuuld distinguish the postilions unharnessing 
 their four horses; and the glare of the lamps 
 showed me likewise a couple of domestics in livery 
 — but what livery it was I did not recognise. As 
 the two females drew near, I saw that one was a 
 lady, while the other had the appearance of being 
 her maid ; and they were both coming towards 
 the gate. 
 
 "Good heavens!" suidenly murnjured the 
 Duke with a groan: "the Duchess herself!" 
 
 And the Duchess of Ardleigh it assuredly was. 
 The Duke stood petrified with terro"- and bewil- 
 derment; and I myself was seized witli con- 
 fusion and excitement — for I foresaw a scene of 
 some description or another. Indeed, unless the 
 whole truth were told, I perceived at a glance that 
 I myself might become the object of the most in- 
 jurious suspicions on being thus discovered with 
 the Duke, at that time of niglit, at an isolated 
 cottage. 
 
 "Whnt! Miss Trafford.^ is it possible .' —yoj» 
 here!" cried the Duchess, at first in tones of joy- 
 ous amazement : but the next instant suddenly 
 descrying her ducal husband, she drew herself up 
 with disdainful hauteur to her full height, saying, 
 in accents of cold contemptuous scorn, " And it is 
 thus that the celebrated Miss Trafford passes as 8 
 virtuous character before the world ?" 
 
 " Madam," I responded indignantly, " Miss 
 Trnfford's reputation is beyond suspicion. His 
 Grace, jour husband, must explain everything." 
 
 The Duchess looked astonislied at this answer 
 on my part: and she turned tovrards the Dako, 
 saying, "Perhaps you will explain, my lord, that 
 which Miss Trafford does not on her part choose 
 to cle.ir up." 
 
 " My God, what can I say ?" murmured the be- 
 wildered Duke of Ardleigh. "But we cannot 
 talk here!— don't let me seen by the other do- 
 mestics I" 
 
 " As you are without your hat, my lord," said 
 the Duchess, " I presume that you must bo tem- 
 porarily residing in this house, to which I was 
 coming for shelter. Perhaps it will not be indis- 
 creet," she added ironically, " if I, as your wife, 
 entered thither with you." 
 
 Again her looks were bent full of suspicion on 
 my countenance ; and I felt my cheeks burning 
 with the blush of indignation that rose up to 
 them, as I turned to the Duke, saving, "My lord, 
 all this must be cleared up — everything must be 
 told ! I neither can nor will suffer on your ac- 
 count! Madam," I aided, turning to the Duchess 
 and speaking in a solemn voice, " there is death in 
 that house— and this is the reason that I am tem- 
 porarily there. Enter— but recollect it is the place 
 of affliction and of mourning." 
 
 " The house of death ?" ejaculated the Duchess 
 of Ardleigh: " what can you possibly mean ?" 
 
 "This, as well as everything else," I replied, 
 "must be explained by his lordship to your 
 Grace." 
 
 The Duchess reflected for a few moments : with 
 all her self-possession and strength of mind she 
 might well be bewildered by this scene that was 
 taking place. She however seemed to think that 
 of the explanations which she was presently to 
 receive, there need be no unnecessary witness; and 
 she suddenly said to her maid, " Go and tell the 
 servants that they are to be sure to stop the other 
 carriage when it comes up. Remain you there 
 with them. I dare say I shall not be long here. 
 And ah ! by the bye, whatsoever you may have 
 just heard, is something that is not to be talked 
 about " 
 
 "I understand, my lady," answered the abigail: 
 and she turned away towards tho spot where the 
 misfortune had happened to the equipage.
 
 2J0 
 
 ELLEN PEECTJ OR, THE MEMOIK3 OP A» ACTRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XLir. 
 
 jpliet's I^'FA^'T. 
 
 Tfe Duchess of Ardleigh new passed through the 
 parden-entrance, — I myself immediately following 
 her; for the Duke, doubtless feeling like a doomed 
 man, lagged ia the rear. We threaded the front 
 garden in silence : we entered the cottage ; and 
 as the parlour door stood open, the Duchess at 
 once turned into that room. She sat down — 
 glanced around her— and said in accents where a 
 slight irony appeared, "Truly this is a pretty 
 little place — a very pretty little place ; and if it 
 were fitted up under your lordship's supervision, 
 you hare shown more taste in this respect than 
 ever to my knowledge you displayed before." 
 
 The Duke looked exceedingly miserable and 
 Tcry much confused. With his ignoble counte- 
 nance, his insignificant form, and his apparel plain 
 almost to meanness, it was scarcely possible to 
 believe that he was indeed the husband of the su- 
 perb, handsome-looking, and even brilliant lady 
 who had placed herself upon the sofa with as much 
 ease of manner as if the house belonged to her, 
 and yet with a certain air of dignity, as if she 
 were about to sit in judgment over the delinquent 
 who was fidgetting about at a little distance. I sat 
 down with an air of calm self-possession ; for now 
 that matters had reached this crisis, in which my 
 own reputation was at stake, I was determined 
 that everything should be told. The reader may 
 believe me when I proclaim the assurance that I 
 was not inspired by the slightest sentiment of ma- 
 lignity towards the Duke himself: on the contrary, 
 I rather pitied him : but it was absolutely neces- 
 sary that my good name should be spared from the 
 breath of suspicion; and moreover, I was not 
 without the hope that when the Duchess came to 
 learn everything she might possibly be induced to 
 act a generous part, and do something more for 
 poor ^lary Glentworth than the Duke himself 
 might have been disposed to perform. 
 
 " Now, my lord," said the Duchess, in a tone 
 that was half peremptory and half characterized 
 by a sort of ironical blandness, as if she would 
 have added, "Pray tell your tale, and make me 
 your dupe if you can." 
 
 " My dear," said the Duke, fidgetting about in 
 a way which under other circumstances would have 
 been truly ludicrous, " I think you had better let 
 
 the matter drop where it is there may be 
 
 secrets, you know 1 wish to Grod Peaseblossom 
 
 was here !" 
 
 " My lord," ejaculated the Duchess, her accents 
 being now altogether peremptory, " I insist upon 
 explanations ! Miss Trafford, will you not speak ? 
 Whose house is this? why are you here? why 
 is the Duke here ? and who is dead within its 
 walls ?" 
 
 " I do indeed perceive that I must speak, ray 
 lady," I said : " for it is almost a desecration of 
 this scene of death " 
 
 "No, no. Miss Trafford! let me speak!" ex- 
 claimed the Duke. " Tbe fact is, my dear" — and 
 he advanced with mincing gait and cajoling looks 
 towards the Duchess — " I came across from 
 Hastings this evening — I thought I should like a 
 little walk into Dover— so I sent back tbe post 
 
 chaise that brought me from Hastings. I wai 
 coming along the road, when a mad bull ran at 
 
 me 1 was knocked down Miss Trafford 
 
 happened to be passing— she kindly picked me 
 up " 
 
 " Good heavens, my lord !" I exclaimed, " is it 
 possible that in the house of death " 
 
 "Pray, Miss Trafford," interrupted the Duchess, 
 with an appearance of great sweetness of manner, 
 "let his Grace tell his story in his own way. Up 
 to the point which he had reached it was ami- 
 nently romantic ?" 
 
 " Ah ! romantic— but very alarming," responded 
 the Duke, who evidently thought that he was 
 making his wife believe the absurd tale he was 
 telling her. " Well, you see, my dear," he con- 
 tinued, " 1 was brought into this house — the lady 
 of which was so terribly frightened by seeing the 
 mad bull rush in amongst her flowers, that she fell 
 down— she was seized with a fit— and all was over.' 
 There's her poor daughter " 
 
 " For shame, my lord !" I cried, now bending 
 upon the Duke an indignant glance. " Madam, I 
 see that I must speak 1" 
 
 " Indeed I think you had better. Miss Traf- 
 ford," said the Duchess, as she turned upon her 
 husband an annihilating look of the supremest 
 scorn and loftiest disdain. 
 
 " I am staying with a friend in this neighbour- 
 hood," I continued, — " a highly respectable lady, 
 Mrs. Oldcastle of Eiver House. Accident threw 
 me in the way of Miss Glentworth, who with her 
 mother resided in this cottage. A little more 
 than two hours back I was hastily sumuioned 
 hither by the maid-servant j and on my arrival I 
 found Mrs. Glentworth at the point of death. I 
 likewise met his Grace hero; and if I have tarried 
 until now, it was because I would not abandon the 
 poor afflicted girl whose mother has perished be- 
 fore her eyes. Who Mrs. Glentworth waa — who 
 Miss Glentworth is, it is for his Grace to ex- 
 plain." 
 
 " 1 think I can understand, Miss Trafford," said 
 the Duchess, now showing by her looks and ac- 
 cents that she fully believed the tale that I had 
 just told her. 
 
 At this instant the maid-servant entered the 
 room, exclaiming, " Oh, Miss Trafford ! Miss 
 Glentworth has awoke — and she is asking for 
 you !" 
 
 I rose — bowed to the Duchess— and issued 
 from the parlour. I was by no means sorry to 
 leave the Duke and Duchess alone together, now 
 that sufiicient had been said to put her Grace 
 upon the right track towards eliciting the wholo 
 truth. In the passage I paused to ask the maid- 
 servant if she had mentioned to Miss Glentworth 
 that there was a lady in the parlour : but she told 
 me that she had not. I ascended to the chamber, 
 where I found poor Mary giving way to her afflic- 
 tion ; and I said all I could to comfort her. She 
 entreated me to suffer her to go and pray by the 
 couch on which lay the remains of her mother : 
 but I conjured her to wait till the morning. Mary 
 allowed herself to be persuaded; and thus half-au- 
 hour passed away. At the expiration of that time 
 I heard an equipage stop in front of the house ; 
 and I had no doubt it was the second travelling, 
 carriage, conveying the remainder of her Grace's 
 suite. Mary was too much absorbed in her own
 
 ELLEX PKKCT; OK, THE ilEMOIRS O F AN ACTRESS. 
 
 241 
 
 
 BEATRICE DI CARBOXI. 
 
 painful reflections to notica tho sounds of the 
 vehicle : but in a few minutes it drove on — as 
 did likewise the other ; so that I concluded the 
 latter must have been sufficicntlj repaired to con- 
 tinue its way to Dover. 
 
 I passed the rest of that night in tho clumber 
 with Mary Glentworth : but I knew that the 
 Duke was still in the house ; for shortly after the 
 equipages had passed by, I heard him ascend to 
 his own chamber. For several hours Mary Glent- 
 worth did not close her eyes ; and not one wink of 
 sleep did I myself obt-.iia that night. ]3»tween 
 six and seven o'clock in the morning slumber 
 again afforded my poor friend a temporary relief 
 from the bitterness of her affliction; and I then 
 stole down stairs— for I had heard tho Duke de- 
 scend a short time previously. 
 
 I met him in tho parlour ; and he immediately 
 No. 31.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 said, " Well, Miss Trafford, everything is known 
 now — thanks to you! — for if you had only backed 
 me in that tale which I so happily invented " 
 
 "My lord, cease this absurdity !" I angrily in- 
 terrupted him; "and tell me, will her Grace do 
 anything for Mary G-lentworth ?" 
 
 " Xot sho indeed !" exclaimed tho Duke. " She 
 is desperately indignant— she at first talked of 
 suing for a divorce — the Ecclesiastical Court — the 
 House of Lords — separate maiutenance — and 
 heaven knows what— until I told her if she would 
 only allow me——" 
 
 " To perform your duty towards your daughter, 
 ray lord ?" I said, in a tone of grave inquiry. 
 
 "Xo— to go to Scotland for a time with Pease- 
 blossom," he answered, " until I could be restored 
 to her good graces——" 
 
 "Bat about Mary Q-lentworth ?" I impatiently
 
 242 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBIIOIES OF AS ACTEE3S. 
 
 asked. " Is she to be thrown upon that benevo- 
 lence which I promised to invoke for her at the 
 hands of Mrs. Oldcastle ?" 
 
 "I scarcelj see what else is to be done," replied 
 the Duke. "Pray, vaj dear Miss Trafford, go 
 presently— I am most anxious to be relieved from 
 this suspense——" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," I interrupted him ; " rest 
 assured that I shall not delaj : for I perceive 
 that despite your solemn promise of last evening, 
 Mary may not hope to find a friend even in her 
 own father." 
 
 "A friend— yes !" ho exclaimed, turning almost 
 angrily round upon me. " I will allow her a 
 couple of hundred a year " 
 
 " And you think," I said, " that all the care 
 which you are bound to bestow upon her is limited 
 
 Leave mo to manage I will go and pass a few 
 hours with Miss Glentworth. You have been up 
 all night : I insist upon your taking some rest. Go 
 and lie down, my dear child ; and precisely at two 
 o'clock in the afternoon I will return. You shall 
 then have my decision." 
 
 With these last words Mrs. Oldcastle again 
 tapped me fondly on the cheek; and she pushed 
 me gently from the room. My heart was relieved 
 of a load ; for I felt convinced that she would 
 yield to my supplication. I was indeed completely 
 exhausted; and I ascended to my chamber, where 
 I threw myself down upon the couch. Sleep soon 
 visited my eyes ; and I slumbered for several 
 hours. When I awoke, it was half- past ono 
 o'clock. I knew hoar methodical, regular, and 
 punctual Mrs. Oldcastlo was in all her proceed- 
 
 to a small pecuniary allowance? However, my ings ; and iu half-an-huur she would therefore bo 
 
 lord, I will not argue the point with your Grace : 
 
 but I will see whether I cannot provide for your 
 
 daughter that home to find which you leave her 
 
 to shift for herself." 
 
 Having thus spoken, I ascended again to Mary 
 
 Glentworth's chamber. She still slept : I per- 
 formed my ablutions ; and the process refreshed 
 
 me, for I felt ill and feverish through want of 
 
 sleep and the excitement of the various scenes 
 
 through whic.h within t)ie last twelve hours I had 
 
 been dragged. 
 
 It was nine o'clock beforn Mary Glentworth 
 
 awoke; and then I represented to her in as deli- 
 cate and gentle terms as possible, that inasmuch as 
 
 her uncle Mr. Glentworth (as I continued to call 
 
 the Duke) was not in a position to offer her a 
 
 home, I was going to speak to Mrs. Oldcastle on 
 
 the subject : but I was careful not to promiso I 
 
 should succeed — for I knew how eccentric was the 
 
 character of the old lady. Mary embraced me 
 
 with a fervour as if she considered me her best if 
 
 not her only friend ; and I took a temporary leave 
 
 of her, inwardly hoping that my self-imposed 
 
 mission to Mrs. Oldcastle would be attended with 
 
 success; and if not, I resolved upon persuading 
 
 the iSTormans to receive poor Mary when the 
 
 funeral should be over. 
 
 I bent my way to Eiver House; and I at once 
 
 obtained an interview with Mrs. Oldcastle. I did 
 
 not choose to betray the Duke's secret : I consi- 
 dered it to be sacred after the pledge which I had 
 given to the deceased Mrs. Glentworth. I there- 
 fore spoke of him only as Mr. Glentworth — repre- 
 senting that he was so circumstanced as to be un- 
 able to afibrd his daughter a home— but that he 
 bad promised to allow lier sufficient for her main- 
 tenance. Mrs. Oldcastle listened to me with an 
 expression of countenance which for a while was 
 perfectly inscrutable ; and at length, as her rigid 
 features relaxed into a look of kindness, she tapped 
 me on the cheek, saying, "My dear Ellen, you are 
 a generous-hearted girl! — much too generous to 
 deal with all the circumstances of this cold selfish 
 world !" 
 
 " And you will grant my request ?" I exclaimed, 
 my heart leaping with fervid liope. 
 
 "I do not know, Eilen," replied Mrs. Oldcastle. 
 " I am only acquainted with Mary Glentworth by 
 Bight— I never in my life spoke a word to her. 
 Before I agree to receive the young lady into my 
 house, I must see something more of her : I must 
 also see her father— this alleged uucle of her's. 
 
 with me. I made some little change in my toilet 
 ^paid Juliet a brief visit — and told her as much 
 of the incidents of the preceding night as I had 
 thought fit to reveal to Mrs. Oldcastle. I then 
 returned to my chamber to put on my bonnet and 
 shawl ; and I descended to the front garden to 
 await Mrs. Oldcastle's arrival. 
 
 It was a beautiful warm day; and the nurse 
 had brought .put Juliet's infant for the first time. 
 I took the child from the woman's arms, and sat 
 down on a garden-bench to fondle the little inno- 
 cent. As I contemplated its tiny countenance, I 
 could not help thinking, " And you too, poor 
 child ! will grow up to be ignored and unacknow- 
 ledged by your own father, even like poor Mary 
 Glentworth ! And perhaps you too will be told 
 some tale of how your parents died in your in- 
 fancy ; and you will be worse off than even Mary 
 Glentworth — for your own mo he: will likewise 
 be compelled to disavow you!" 
 
 I remember perfectly well that up to this point 
 I had merely mused in silence ; for the nurse was 
 standing near. But perceiving that I was inclined 
 to retain the child in my arms for a little timo 
 longer, the woman strolled away to a short dis- 
 tance ; and then falling again into a musing mood, 
 I was insensibly led on to give audible expression 
 to my thoughts. 
 
 " Alas, poor child," I said, experiencing the 
 deepest sympathy for the little innocent unconsci- 
 ous creature ; " thine is indeed a hard fate, to pos- 
 sess a father who cares not for thee — and to be 
 disowned in a short time, as thou wilt be, by thine 
 own mother ! Alas, poor child ! horn in mystery 
 and in shame — for Oh, it is so ! — how deeply, 
 deeply art thou to be pitied ! Happy was thy 
 mother ere she knew what love was ! — happy when 
 upon the stage she was contented with the plau- 
 dits which she elicited ! But now how changed is 
 everything for her ! Hare, under a feigned name, 
 has she given birth to thee " 
 
 " Oh, my God, Ellen ! is it for this that I have 
 come hither?" were the wildly spoken worda 
 which suddenly burst upon my ears ; and I started 
 in afi'right and dismay, not merely at the words 
 themselves, but at the voice in which they were 
 conveyed; for I recognised it full well— it was the 
 voice of my cousin — tho object of my heart's da- 
 voted love— Henry Wakefield ! 
 
 It was a wonder that I did not drop the infant 
 from my arms, so fearfully was I galvanized — e'j 
 suddenly did I start up fiom my seat. And bf^
 
 hind that seat, amidst the evergreen?, stood Harry 
 Wakefield ; and Oh ! never shall I forget the look 
 of despair and agonj which bis countenance wore 
 as ho pressed his hand to his brow, ejaculating, 
 " My God ! my God !" 
 
 , " Ilcnry ! dear Honry !" I exclaimed, in a wild 
 agony of mind ; for I was at once smitten with 
 the conviction of what hideous thought bad seized 
 upon him : " bear me, I conjure you !" 
 
 " Farewell, Ellen !" be exclaimed, in frenzied 
 accents and with a look of kindred madness : 
 "everything is at an end between us !" 
 
 And it was like one frantic that dashing through 
 the maze of evergreens, be rushed away from the 
 spot. I endeavoured to raise my voice again — 
 but I could not : my tongue clave to the roof of 
 my mouth — I felt as if I were choking. A dizzi- 
 ness seized upon me : I had just sufficient presence 
 of mind to deposit the infant gently upon the 
 seat; and then sank down, deprived of conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 When next a gleam of reason began to steal 
 info ray brain, like the finest thread of light into 
 the depths of a dark dungeon, — I was lying in 
 bed : but I could not for some time recollect 
 where. Two female forms bent over me: they 
 spoke to me in gentle aud sootliiug voices — the 
 lips of each were pressed to my cheeks : but I 
 know not those countenances — I remembered not 
 those voices. Then it appeared to me as if I slept 
 again for some interval of unknown length : but 
 when consciousness once more returned, it was 
 with a broader gleam of light than on the former 
 occasion ; and again were those two forms there. 
 And now I recognised the countenances that bent 
 down and kissed me : one was that of Mrs. Old- 
 castle — the other that of Mary Glentworth. 15ut 
 Mary Glentworth there ! — and in deep mourning ! 
 What could it all mean ? The truth was gradually 
 and delicately broken to me : I had been stretched 
 on that bed for seven whole days and nights; and 
 it was the evening before this day of which I am 
 now speaking, that I bad obtained that first faint 
 glimmer of returning consciousness. Yes — for a 
 whole week I had endured all the perils of a severe 
 fever, alternating betwixt intervals of deep trance- 
 like torpor and the ravings of delirium. As for 
 Mary Glentworth — the funeral was over, and she 
 had found a home beneath the roof of Mrs. Old- 
 castlo. Yv'hen I learnt this fact, I took the old 
 lady's baud and pressed it to my lips in warm tes- 
 timony of my gratitude. 
 
 In respect to myself, I soon discovered that not 
 a suspicion was entertained relative to the real 
 cause of my swoon in the garden and my subse- 
 quent illness. It appeared that the nurse had 
 wandered away into the grounds at the rear of the 
 dwelling : but she fancied that she heard a cry, 
 and she sped back to the front garden. There she 
 found the infant lying safe upon the bench, and 
 myself stretched in a fainting tit upon the ground. 
 I was borne into the bouse— every attention was 
 paid me — Mrs. Oldcastle soon after arrived from 
 her visit to Mary Glentworth — and medical 
 assistance was sent for. The surgeon pronounced 
 lae to be in a high state of fever ; and thus, as 
 the reader is already aware, for one whole week 
 did I remain hovering between life and death — 
 at one time plunged into a trance-like torpor, at 
 another raving in delirium. But that my ravings 
 
 had afforded not the slightest clue to the real cause 
 of my swoon, nor had in any way betrayed the 
 visit of Harry Wakefield or the inauspicious cir- 
 cumstances attending it, was evident enough from 
 what Mrs. Oldeastla and Mary Glentworth pro- 
 ceeded to say to mo. 
 
 "You passed an agitated night in the house of 
 death, my dear Ellen," said the old lady : "you 
 slept not a single wink — your nerves were un- 
 strung by the sudden catastrophe which deprived 
 your poor friend of a parent— and thus everything 
 tended to excite you. It was really no wonder 
 that your physical powers should have succumbed 
 beneath such influences !" 
 
 " Alas, my dear Ellen I" said Mary Glentworth, 
 in a soft voice that was tremulous with emotion, 
 as she bent down and kissed my cheek ; " it was 
 all on my account that this has happened ! Ob, how 
 you have suffered for your kindness to me ! — and 
 how immeasurably would it have added to my 
 affliction if I had lost you, my best friend 1" 
 
 I begged Mrs. Oldcastle and Mary to leave me 
 a little while to myself,— alleging that I felt the 
 necessity of collecting my scattered ideas. Nor 
 was this indeed a mere pretext : it was the truth ; 
 for never had I greater need to reflect upon the 
 unfortunate circumstances which had so recently 
 occurred. 
 
 When left alone, I gave free vent to my tears ; 
 for it was shocking to think how Henry had been 
 deceived by circumstantial evidence, and how 
 frightfully I had suffered in his estimation, I 
 remembered how I had been musing aloud for the 
 few minutes previous to that sudden ejaculation 
 which had burst from his lips : I could even recall 
 to my recollection every syllable I bad thus ut- 
 tercd; and I had no doubt he had remained the 
 while an unseen listener, enduring mental agonies 
 the bare idea of which was sufficient to drive me 
 mad. Oh ! doubtless he had sought me in London 
 — ho had there learnt that I was at River House, 
 near Dover — he had sped on the wings of love to 
 this place to find mo— and perhaps on arriving at 
 his destination, he had first caught a glimpse of 
 me in the garden, when thinking to afford me a 
 most happy surprise, he had stolen nigh enough to 
 behold a babe in my arms, and to catch all the 
 words I was addressing unto the little innocent. 
 These details did I picture to myself; and I thought 
 too how fearfully every species of circumstantial 
 evidence had combined to ruin me in the estima- 
 tion of Harry Wakefield ! When standing amidst 
 the evergreens, listening to the words that were 
 flowing from my lips, numerous ideas must have 
 flashed to his brain to corroborate the dreadful 
 suspicion which had smitten him. He must have 
 remembered that I had concealed from his mother 
 how I had betaken myself to the stage — and that 
 from him likewise had I withheld the same fact, 
 until his approaching return to England had at 
 length elicited the avowal from me. And then 
 too, he must have seen that there was subterfuge 
 or duplicity in the little manoeuvres I had adopted 
 to veil from him my sojourn at River House, and 
 to induce him to communicate with me from 
 Paisley, so that I should know at what precise 
 time I might expect to meet him in London. And 
 lastly his prejudice against the theatrical profes- 
 sion must have combined with all other circum- 
 stances to impress him with the very natural
 
 KLlEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACIEESS. 
 
 convictioo that I had ceased to be worthy of 
 Liin. 
 
 But what was I now to do P I was cliained to 
 a bed of sickness; and at least another week must 
 elapse before I could hope to be enabled to get out 
 into the fresh air. A fortnight must puss before 
 I should be fit for travelling. Oh, that I were at 
 once able to speed in search of Henry Wakefield 
 — to Cud him — and to vindicate myself! Ah, but 
 in so doing I must reveal partially if not wholly 
 Juliet's secret ! So strong were the circumstances 
 against me, that I dared not expect my cousin to 
 believe the simple statement that it was the child 
 cf another which he had seen in my arms, unless 
 I were to afford him corroborative proof of the 
 tale. But how was I to do this without betraying 
 Juliet? For a long time I reflected upon the 
 painful subject— until at length an idea struck me. 
 What this was, I need not at present state. 
 
 Fain would I have at once written to my 
 cousin to implore him to suspend his judgment 
 until I could see him: but I was too weak and 
 feeble to hold a pen— and I did not choose to con- 
 fide the history of my sorrows to any other person. 
 I was therefore compelled to wait two or three 
 days until I had just strength sufficient to trace a 
 few Hues upon paper. I then implored Henry, by 
 the love which he had borne me, and by that 
 earDest afiection which I continued to experience 
 for him, to suspend his opinion until he bad 
 beard me ; for that I was innocent, and I could 
 explain everything ! I addressed the letter to 
 him under cover to the Paisley manufacturer ; and 
 my mind felt more easy when this task was ac- 
 complished. 
 
 My health was improving : for being conscious 
 of innocence, and having faith in the justice of 
 heaven, I felt assured that the time must sooner 
 or later come when I could make my guiltlessness 
 apparent to him whom I was deeply anxious to 
 disabuse of the dreadful suspicion which he enter- 
 tained. I now had an opportunity of having some 
 conversation with Mis. Oldcastle in respect to 
 Mary Glentworth. She had taken a liking to the 
 young lady : the more she saw of her, the more 
 she was convinced of her artlessness and purity of 
 mind ; and so far from regretting that she had 
 afforded her a home, she would have infinitely re- 
 gretted the denial of an asylum to the orphan 
 girl. She had seen the Duke of Ardleigh — but 
 entertained not the remotest suspicion who he 
 actually was: she believed bica to be plain and 
 simple Mr. Glentworth. She had been but little 
 impressed in his favour ; and therefore wondered 
 not that he should seek to throw his daughter 
 upon the friendship of others. He bad promised 
 to allow Mary two or three hundred a-yoar ; 
 and Mrs. Oldcastle had replied that though she 
 herself should accept of no payment nor reward 
 for afibrding the youug lady an asylum, yet that 
 she should insist upon the fulfilment of that agree- 
 ment as a means of making a future provision far 
 Miss Glentworth. It further appeared that the 
 Duke, having entrusted all the arrangements for 
 the funeral to an undertaker at Dover, had soon 
 afterwards departed from the cottage ; so that he 
 fallowed not the remains of his late mistress to the 
 grave. 
 
 I found that Mary Glentworth was fortified 
 with a sweet pious resignation in respect to the 
 
 loss of her mother : and I learnt that when after 
 the funeral she had removed to River House, she 
 had been unwearied in her attentions to mo. In- 
 deed, the amiable girl displayed towards me as 
 much aficclionate solicitude as if she were my 
 own sister. She had of course formed the ac- 
 quaintance of Juliet, whom she only knew how- 
 ever as Mrs. Hall. 
 
 Mrs. Oldcastle had written to the Normans to 
 tell them that I was ill; but she did not say how 
 veiy ill I really was, fur fear lest they should set off 
 for River House despite her injunctions to the con- 
 trary. The day after I wrote to Harry Wakefield, 
 I penned a few lines to Mrs. Norman, to tran- 
 quillize her mind on iny behalf and assure her 
 that I was approaching towards convalescence. 
 At the expiration of a week after my return to 
 consciousness, I was enabled to get down into the 
 garden, supported by the arm of Mary Glent- 
 worth; and at the end of another week I found 
 my health so much improved that I became im- 
 patient to set out on my intended journey in 
 search of my cousin : for alas ! I had received no 
 letter from him — no reply was vouchsafed to my 
 few brief lines of earnest appeal ; and yet I felt 
 convinced he must have received my note by this 
 time ; for even if he had not returned to Paisluv, 
 Mr. Macdonald, I conjectured, must be sure to 
 know his address. 
 
 It was now, as I have said, a fortnight after my 
 return to consciousness— but three whole weeks 
 since the fatal incident in the garden which had 
 produced such dire results. The same medical 
 man who had attended Juliet in her confinement, 
 had been ministering unto me ; and I one morn- 
 ing took an opportunity, when we were alone to- 
 gether, to address him upon a particular subject, 
 in pursuance of the idea which I had already 
 formed. 
 
 " Mr. Singleton," I said — for that was his name, 
 — " I wish you to do me a very particular favour ; 
 and likewise to keep the request itself a profound 
 secret." 
 
 " Speak, Miss Traflford," he answered ; " and 
 you will see how ready I am to serve you if it lie 
 in my power." 
 
 I expressed my thanks for this assurance ; and 
 I went on to say, " You must now be informed 
 that the day on which I was taken so ill, I was 
 seen by an acquaintance of mine fondling Mrs. 
 Hall's infant in the garden. From that circum- 
 stance scandalous stories may arise ; and I wish 
 you to permit me, if requisite, to refer to you as a 
 means of vindicating my own character." 
 
 " Nothing, Miss Traflford," responded Mr. Sin- 
 gleton, " can be more proper on your part, and 
 nothing more easy on mine. I see that the affair 
 is a delicate one— and you may rely upon my dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 Again I thanked him ; and then I said, " But I 
 have still another favour to ask of you. Pray do 
 not refuse me ! You must immediately recom- 
 mend me change of air; and you yourself must 
 tell Mrs. Oldcastle that it is necessary. I do not 
 conceal from you that I have most urgent reasons 
 for wishing to get away from River House ; and 
 Mrs. Oldcastle's anxiety on account of my health 
 would lead her to detain me here for some time 
 longer, unless you thus kindly aid me to emanci- 
 pate myself."
 
 ELIEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 215 
 
 Mr. Singleton looked grave, and reflected for a 
 few moments: he then said, " It all depends, Miss 
 Trafford, on the place to which you desire lo go — 
 the length of the journey— the mode of travelling 
 —and so forth. Aided by a strong constitution, 
 you have triumphed marvellously over the peril of 
 those ailments which beset you; and with ordinary 
 care you will speedily be as well as ever you wore. 
 But your health must not be trifled with ; and 
 your dramatic avocations cannot immediately be 
 resumed." 
 
 " I can assure you that I have no thought of 
 returning to the stage for some weeks. As for the 
 journey which I propose to undertake," I con- 
 tinued, " I confess it is rather a long one : but I 
 will accomplish it by easy stages. If I be kept 
 longer chained to this place, my anxiety of miud 
 will only throw me back upon a sick couch." 
 
 "This is likewise to be considered," said Mr. 
 Singleton,— adding with a half smile, "We medi- 
 cal men are often compelled to humour our pa- 
 tients, as I am now disposed to deal by you. Yes 
 — I will recommend change of air." 
 
 "And recommend it to be London," 1 inter- 
 jected. 
 
 Again Mr. Singleton looked grave : but I plied 
 him with so many entreaties that at length he 
 agreed to favour my project. He went and sought 
 Mrs. Oldcastle accordingly; and that worthy lady 
 was soon in my chamber. She remonstrated on 
 the ground that Hunter Street was not in the 
 most salubrious quarter of the metropolis,— ob- 
 serving that if I had any friends at the West End 
 ■with whom I could stay, she should perhaps be 
 less inclined to oppose my departure. I thought 
 at the time that I had been of sufficient service to 
 the Marchioness of Campanella and the Countess 
 of Carboni to take a slight liberty with their 
 names; and I accordingly intimated that I should 
 be welcome at their abode. Mrs. Oldcastle ofi^ered 
 no further objection ; and it was agreed I should 
 depart on the morrow. 
 
 I was inwardly rejoiced at the success of my 
 proji^ct— my spirits became cheered— and I in- 
 dulged in the hope that the time was not now far 
 distant when I should clear up my reputation in 
 the presence of Henry Wakelield. The recom- 
 mendation of change of air for the metropolis, was 
 not merely a sufiicient pretext for bidding farewell 
 to my friends at River House— but likewise to 
 serve my purpose in the communication which I 
 had to make to Mr. and Mrs. Norman relative to 
 my intended removal. 
 
 Oa the following day 1 sot out in a post-chaise 
 for the metropolis, having afifectionately embraced 
 Mrs. Oldcastle, Juliet, and Mary Glentwortb. 
 Still feeling the effects of my recent illness, and 
 fearful of a relapse ere I had accomplished the long 
 journey that was before me, I only proceeded half 
 the distance to t!ie metropolis on this first day ; 
 and on the following one I completed the remain- 
 der of that portion of my travel. It was still early 
 iu the afternoon when I arrived in London ; and I 
 at once proceeded to Hunter Street. There I 
 learnt that upwards of three weeks back a young 
 pentleman, announcing himself as my cousin Mr. 
 Wakefield, had called to see me, and that he dis- 
 played considerable disappointment on not finding 
 me there. He was informed by the domestics that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman were at Bamsgate— but 
 
 that I was staying at lliver House near Dover. 
 Mr. Wakefield had then hastened away upon re- 
 ceiving this intelligence; and therefore it was evi- 
 dent that he had lost little timo in seeking me at 
 Mrs. Oldcastle's abode. 
 
 JFrom Hunter Street I repaired to the Marquis 
 of Campanella's mansion at the West End of the 
 town, — having previously informed Mr. Norman's 
 servants whither I was going. I was received 
 with open arms by the Marchioness and Beatrice ; 
 and when I craved their hospitality until the next 
 day, it was cordially vouchsafed, accompanied with 
 the regret that my sojourn beneath that roof was 
 to be so short. I alleged as my reason for seeking 
 a temporary asylum there, the fact that the Nor- 
 mans were out of town, and that I did not like to 
 be all by myself at the house in Hunter Street. 
 I was rejoiced to see how well Beatrice was look- 
 ing; and 1 learnt that she had heard nothing 
 more of her husband. 
 
 On the following morning, as I was in the midst 
 of my toilette, a lady's-maid entered the chamber 
 to inform me that a young person who had just 
 come from Hunter Street, wished to see me. I 
 thought it must be one of the maids of Mr. Nor- 
 man's establishment ; and I desired that she might 
 be shown up. Great was my surprise, therefore, 
 when in a few minutes Beda bounded into the 
 room. 
 
 Seizing my hand, she pressed it to her lips with 
 an effusion of joy ; and then she raised her large 
 dark eyes towards my countenance in a manner 
 which seemed most pathetically to deprecate any 
 annoyance that I might feel at the step which she 
 had thus of her own accord taken. But how 
 could I possibly chide the poor girl who had shown 
 so many proofj of fidelity, love, and devotion to- 
 wards mo ? 
 
 " And how came you here, Beda ?" I asked in a 
 kind tone. 
 
 " Oh ! I learnt. Miss, that you had been ill," ex- 
 claimed the girl ; " and for the last three weeks I 
 have been longing to come to you — but I know 
 not where you were staying. Yesterday morning 
 Mrs. Norman received a letter from you ; and I 
 happened to overhear her reading a part of its 
 contents to Mr. Norman. Thus I learnt you 
 were coming to London : but I was then ignorant 
 that you meant to stay elsewhere thim in Hunter 
 Street. I besought Mrs. Norman to suffer me to 
 come to you : but she refused, saying that if you 
 had wished to have me you wou^d have intimated 
 that desire in your letter. Oh ! then I was so un- 
 happy and miserable, and I wept so all day long — 
 for I thought you no longer cared for me " 
 
 "Poor Beda!" I said, tapping her cheek fondly. 
 "Think you that I shall ever forget the immense 
 services you rendered me the other day at Hams- 
 gate ? But proceed. I hope you did not leave 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman without their consent?" 
 
 " See, Miss !" ciclaimed Beda, presenting mo a 
 note : '•' this will doubtless explain everything." 
 
 The letter was from Mrs. Norman, — in which 
 she informed me that Beda seemed so unhappy at 
 not being allowed to attend me in London, that 
 she had taken it upon herself to grant the per- 
 mission which the girl so much desired. It then 
 appeared that nothing would satisfy Beda but that 
 she must come up by the night-coach, so as to be 
 with me as soon as possible. Mrs. Norman did
 
 246 
 
 SLIiEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTHE3S. 
 
 not happen to know where the Marquis of Cam- 
 panclla dwelt; aud thus she had bidden Boda re- 
 pair iu tlio first instance to Hunter Street, so that 
 the iuquii-y might bo made for her. One of the 
 servants there knew the address of the Marquis; 
 and Beda had lost no time in coming to me. 
 
 I gave her many kind words as a reward for her 
 affectionate solicitude on my behalf; and then I 
 said, " I am going to tell you a very groat secret, 
 Beda : but you are so faithful and trustworthy that 
 I know you will keep it." 
 
 "Oh, that I will!" she exclaimed, her superb 
 eyes becoming singularly luminous with the joy of 
 being admitted into my confidence. 
 
 '■■ I am going to set out presently on a very lung 
 journey, Beda," I continued; "and you shall ac- 
 company me. But you are not hereafter to speak 
 of this unless I give you my free permission." 
 
 " As I would lay down my life for you," she 
 emphatically replied, " you do not suppose that I 
 would fail ill my obedience in a matter so easy as 
 this." 
 
 I was satisfied; and having bidden farewell to 
 the Marquis aud Marchioness of Campanella, as 
 well as to Beatrice— whom I begged to take charge 
 of any letters that might arrive in my absence — I 
 entered the carriage which the Marnhioness had 
 ordered to convey mo to the railway -station. 
 Beda accompanied me ; and we set out on our 
 journey towards the north. 
 
 OHAPTEK XLIII. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 It was about ton or eleven months since I was 
 foraierly at Paisley, on the occasion when I at- 
 tended the death- bed of my aunt Mrs. Wakefield. 
 The clocks were striking five in the afternoon 
 when I thus reached it again; and I repaired to a 
 hotel, s'.ill attended by the faithful Beda. I had 
 not so completely adhered to my resolve to per- 
 form the journey by easy stages, as to arrive in 
 Paisley without the sense of much weariness, ap- 
 proaching even to eshaustion : but still I could 
 not rest a moment before making inquiries for 
 Henry Wakefield. 
 
 I penned a brief note, to the efifect that I had 
 come all the way from the neighbourhood of 
 Dover— a distance of some hundreds of miles — 
 for the purpose of giving those explanations and 
 affording those proofs which should convince my 
 cousin Low deeply wronged I had been by his 
 suspicions. I claimed it as a right that ho should 
 afford me an opportunity of clearing up niy cha- 
 racter; and I entreated that no matter what 
 ch*ge had taken place in his feelings towards 
 me, he would not deny me this right which as a 
 fellow-creature I demanded. 
 
 I entrusted the note to the hotel-porter to take 
 to Mr. Macdonald's manufactory or to his private 
 residence, at whichsoever place Mr. Wakefield 
 might be found; or at all events to prosecute his 
 inquiiics until he should discover whether my 
 cousin \sere still in Paisley or not. The man set 
 out; and the half-hour of his absence was a most 
 anxious one for me. I had consigned Beda to the 
 bed-chamber ; and I was alone in the sitting- 
 
 room which I occupied at the hotel. Wearied 
 though I were, I could not remain seated : I kept 
 walking about in the room, although a thousand 
 times I said to myself that I ought to have more 
 fortitude and composure, and that I was ^xcting 
 rather as a guilty than as an innocent person. 
 Ah! but then, reader, I loved Henry! — and it 
 was very different in having to vindicate myself 
 before 7dm, from what it would have been if he 
 were a person who was in all respects indifferent 
 to me save with regard to the suspicion which was 
 entertained against my character ! 
 
 At length the porter returned, bringing me the 
 announcement that he had found Mr. Wakefield 
 at the private residence of Mr. Macdonald, and 
 that he would be with me in a few minutes. The 
 man retired ; and I now exerted all my power to 
 arm myself with composure, I succeeded but 
 indifferently ; for my nerves, weakened by illness, 
 had been unstrung by the long journey and by 
 the excitement of the thoughts which had occu- 
 pied me while travelling. Indeed I was fearfully 
 agitated ; and when I heard footsteps approaching 
 along the passage leading to the parlour, I felt a 
 dizziness come over mo as if I should faint. The 
 door was thrown open — and the waiter aiinounLed 
 Mr. Wakefield, 
 
 I sank down upon a seat: I could not give 
 utterance to a word. My cousin appeared in the 
 room ; and the door closed behind him. His 
 countenance was very pale: his classical well- 
 formed lips were compressed with a severe espres- 
 slon : but he could not prevent a look of cumpas- 
 sion and of lingering fondness from appearing in 
 his soft brown eyes. All of a sudden I regained 
 somewhat of ray self-possession ; and rising from 
 my seat, I exclaimed, " Henry, you have wronged 
 me ! I swear to you that I am innocent !" 
 
 He shook his head despairingly,— murmuring, 
 "Would to God that I could think so !"— aud it 
 was with diiliculty that ho stifled a sob which ap- 
 peared to be convulsing him inwardly. 
 
 " O Henry !" I exclaimed, in a voice of reproach ; 
 " if every Ifind of circumstantial evidence had 
 combined to throw a suspicion on i/oai- character, 
 I should not thus prejudge you— I should at least 
 have listened to whatsoever explanations you 
 might have had to proffer!— and Oh! I should 
 not suffer a whole fortnight to elapse without con- 
 descending to l;ike the slightest notice of any letter 
 that you might have written to me !" 
 
 " In that respect, Ellen, I am blameless," re- 
 plied my cousin. " I returned but this day to 
 Paisley after an absence at Liverpool ; aud by an 
 oversight the letter you wrote mo from llivor 
 House, was not forwarded in the interval to my 
 address at that town. I have been like one dis- 
 tracted Oh ! there are so many circumstances 
 
 for you to explain, that I fear But I will hear 
 
 you, Ellen ! Grod knows I am iacapable of doing 
 you a wilful wrong !" 
 
 He had pressed his hand to his brow when in- 
 terrupting himself in the midst of his speech : for 
 an instant ho had a wild half-frenzied look ; and, 
 Oh ! the bitterest pangs shot through my heart as 
 I thus contemplated him ! He sat down ; and his 
 strong efforts to maintain an air of composure 
 were plainly visible. 
 
 " In the first place," I said, my cheeks suddenly 
 burning at the idea of vindicating myself on sucli
 
 EXLEN PBECr; OH, THE MEMOIBS OP AK ACTEESS. 
 
 247 
 
 a point, " the infant that you beheld in my arms 
 was but a few days old : it was the child of a 
 friend of mine ; and if you cannot believe me, 
 Henry, you may refer to Mr. Singleton at River — 
 a medical gentleman of the highest respecta- 
 bility." 
 
 "Ellen," replied my cousin, in a low deep voice, 
 " You may conceive how painful it is for me to be 
 compelled to discourse with you on such a subject. 
 Were it only tJiat incident to which you have 
 alluded, the explanation would suffice, and I should 
 be ready to lay violent hands upon myself to think 
 that I had wronged you with such a suspicion. 
 
 But there are so many other circumstances " 
 
 " Ah ! first let us allude, I exclaimed, " to the 
 secrecy which I observed in respect to my profes- 
 sion. You know that when I quitted my poor 
 deceased aunt's home in Sheffield, it was for the 
 purpose of obtaining a situation in London. On 
 arriving in the metropolis, I was doomed to a ter- 
 rible disappointment. A deceiver and a villain 
 had answered my advertisement, and had deluded 
 me thither. But at the very moment when I was 
 reduced to despair, heaven threw me in the way 
 of a friend — an old school-fellow — Juliet Norman. 
 With the Normans I found a home— that home 
 where you recently sought me in Hunter Street. 
 You know that they belong to the stage; and 
 thus you may account for my embarking in a pro- 
 fession which seemed the only one open to me. 
 And Ob ! was I to blame that I sought to eat the 
 bread of mine own industry, instead of remaining 
 dependent upon the humble means of your mo- 
 ther ? — or was it a fault if entertaining some 
 silly little vanity, and perhaps having a presenti- 
 ment of that fame which I have since acquired, I 
 resolved to cherish my secret until the moment 
 when I might proudly say to my aunt and my 
 cousin, ' You have heard of iliss Trafford, the 
 celebrated actress who is acquiring wealth and 
 renown : I am she !' " 
 
 "Proceed, Ellen!" said my cousin, evidently 
 interested, but' still with a profoundly mournful 
 look. 
 
 " Alas ! I was not allowed to experience that 
 joyous occasion which I had so longingly antici- 
 pated," I continued;— "it was not permitted me 
 to act thus towards your mother! Suddenly was 
 I summoned to her death-bed. I arrived at your 
 cottage — I stole gefltly up the stairs— I heard 
 what was passing between yourself and my poor 
 aunt ; and then, my God ! for the first time I 
 learnt how strong were her prejudices against 
 the profession which I had adopted. You know, 
 Henry, that a few minutes afterwards she was no 
 more : I had not a moment's opportunity to con- 
 fess the real truth. I subsequently found that 
 yoa yourself were imbued with the same preju- 
 dice But why should I recapitulate," I sud- 
 denly interrupted myself, " much of what I have 
 already told you in that long letter of mine 
 wherein I at length avowed the truth ?" 
 
 "And I will admit," answered my cousin, "that 
 when I read that letter— and when I perused the 
 newspaper-criiigrMfiS which it contained — I was 
 overjoyed: I felt proud of you, Ellen: all preju- 
 dice had vanished— and I thought of you as one 
 who had achieved a brilliant reputation in an in- 
 credibly short space of time and in spite ot all ob- 
 stae.es. I flew to the metropolis to meet you : 
 
 but you were not in Hunter Street. I learnt too j 
 that you had gone away with the intention of re- 
 maining absent for some weeks;— and yet you [ 
 had desired me to write to you in Hunter Street, | 
 as if you were still to be there ! But that was 
 only a trivial incident at the time ; and I paused 
 not to reflect upon it. I sped to Dover : thence I 
 walked out to River House — and Oh, Ellen! when 
 I perceived your form seated on the garden-bench, 
 my heart leapt for joy within me ! I meant to 
 surprise you with my presence : but as I stole 
 near, what words reached me !" 
 
 'Recall them all," I said, "and you will see, 
 Henry, that they were addressed to the child of a 
 hapless friend of mine— one who has been cruelly 
 betrayed " 
 
 " Ellen," interrupted my cousin, " if this were 
 the case, wherefore all that mystery in which you 
 shrouded your own proceedings? Why make mo 
 believe that you were expecting me in Huuter 
 Street when you were actually at River House?" 
 
 "Because, Henry," I replied with coiifid'.'nco, 
 " it was necessary to shield the secret of ray un- 
 fortunate and betrayed friend even from ?/om. 
 Thus it was to avert the chance of your visit to 
 River House that I adopted a little subterfuge that 
 was venial enough when rendered necessary by 
 the claims of friendship in another quarter. But 
 enous;h, Henry! I have now vindicated myself; 
 and I have told you to whom to refer. Did it not 
 ofi'end my pride— my modesty as a woman— my 
 innocence, to continue in this strain, I would re- 
 mind you of the fact that up to the instant I left 
 London I regularly appeared upon the stage ; and 
 my servant who is now with me, could tell you 
 that only throe or four days before you behe'.d mo 
 at River House I was with the Normans at Rams- 
 gate." 
 
 '•'Ellen, Ellen ! forgive me !" exclaimed Heni-j. 
 " My God ! forgive me ! I have been half mad !" 
 — and he threw himself weeping at my feet. 
 
 Oh ! what emotions swelled within me as I 
 raised him from his suppliant posture; and the 
 next instant we were clasped in each other's arms. 
 In the most impassioned language did Henry 
 Wakefield implore my pardon ; and over and over 
 again did I assure him of it. Bitterly did he up- 
 braid himself for the suspicions which he had en- 
 tertained : but I said all 1 could to console hiin, 
 admitting that circumstantial evidence had been 
 strong against me. 
 
 " Ah ! you know not," he vehemently ox- 
 claimed, " what in my madness I have done !" 
 
 " Good heavens, Henry !" I asked, smitten 
 with consternation, " what do you mean !" 
 
 " Oh, that I should be compelled to tear myself 
 away from you again!" he cried: "but there is 
 no help for it ! When believing, Ellen, that 
 everything was at an end between us, I sped b^ck 
 to Paisley— I entreated Mr. Macdouald to suffer 
 me to return on his account to the United Slates 
 —and I showed him how I could materially ad- 
 vance his interests. He agreed : and I at onco 
 sped to Liverpool to make all the requisite ar- 
 rangements. These I hurried on— for the dis- 
 tracted state of my mind would not sufter me to 
 remain patiently in England : 1 held the country 
 
 in abhorrence " 
 
 "If you haye done not'ainjr more than this, 
 Henry," I said, "be comforted! You can ro-
 
 248 
 
 EI-LSK PEECT ; OR, THE ME.M0IE3 OF A.y ACTRESS. 
 
 nounce your ensjagement with Mr. Macdo- 
 nald " 
 
 " Impossible !" he exclaimed. " I am in honour 
 bound to adhere to it. Moreorer there are agree« 
 ments signed——" 
 
 " Then by all means ful61 them," I answered : 
 and with downcast looks, whilo my cheeks were 
 clothed in blushes, I added, " We can wait, Henry, 
 as we have already waited : and if you have con- 
 fidence in your own love, believe me when I assure 
 you that mine is unalterable !" 
 
 Ho folded me in his arms, again giving way to 
 the bitterest self-reproaches for having mistrusted 
 me : and again I had to take upon myself the part 
 of a consoler. He grew tranquillized ; and we 
 conversed more deliberately upon our plans. He 
 calculated that his approaching absence from Eng- 
 land would be for at least a twelvemonth — at the 
 eapiration of which time he hoped to be in the 
 possession of a considerable sum of money as his 
 share of the commercial ventures in which he 
 was about to embark fur Mr. Macdonald. I asked 
 him to tell me frankly and sincerely whether he 
 had any objection that I should remain upon the 
 stage.''— and be at once replied, "After all that 
 has occurred, Ellen, it would be nothing less than 
 a downright insult if I were to beseech you to 
 withdraw from a profession through whose ordeal 
 of temptations you have already passed with so 
 much credit to yourself. No, my dear girl !— con- 
 tinue to pursue that profession which you love 
 and in which you are acquiring so much fame. I 
 bavo already told you, Ellen, I felt proud of 
 knowing that she who was the idol of my heart 
 had achieved so grand a success !" 
 
 I was much rejoiced by the manner in which 
 Henry now addressed ne ; and I thought it right 
 to tell him that I had a father living— that this 
 father had been both criminal and unfortunate — 
 that he was sincerely penitent for his misdeeds — 
 and that he was residing in seclusion in France. 
 But I did not reveal to my cousin the peculiar 
 circumstances which had gradually led me on to 
 discover that the so-called Mr. Croft was the 
 author of my being ; for if I had entered into 
 those details it would have been necessary to 
 trench upon the circumstances which involved 
 Juliet's secret. My father was the late Mr. "Wake- 
 field's brother, and consequently Henry's uncle : I 
 considered that my cousin had a right to be in- 
 formed of the existence of that relative; and I 
 had moreover received a painful lesson teaching 
 mo to avoid in future the unnecessary retention of 
 any secret. Harry listened with astonishment to 
 the intelligence which I thus communicated, and 
 I said to him, " You will not think the worse of 
 me for possessing such a father ?" 
 
 " Oh, conceive not such an idea, my beloved 
 Ellen !" he exclaimed. " How is it possible that 
 you can be rendered responsible for the deeds of 
 others, no matter how nearly they may be con- 
 nected with youP" 
 
 I then proceeded (o inform my cousin that the 
 very Mrs. Oldcastle of whom so much had been 
 said, was likewise a connexion of oursj and here 
 again was a subject of surprise for Henry Wake- 
 field, as he had never even heard his mother speak 
 of such a family. 
 
 With reference to the numerous adventures 
 which I had experienced through the persecutions 
 
 of Edwin St. Clair, I said but little ; for I feared 
 that if I now revealed everything I should only 
 be torturing my cousin with apprehensions for 
 my future welfare — which apprehensions might 
 accompany him across the Atlantic and haunt him 
 during the twelvemonth of bis absence. I never- 
 theless informed Henry that I had received a pro- 
 posal of marriage from Captain St. Clair, whose 
 fame as an orator in the House of Commons was 
 so widely spread ; and I added that in consequence 
 of my r-fiisal I had converted Captain St. Clair 
 into a bitter enemy. I also whispered to my 
 cousin that I had received a similar proposal from 
 the Marquis of Dalrymple, the heir to a dukedom j 
 and I said, " It is through no idle vanity, my dear 
 Henry, that I mention these circumstances : it is 
 only to afford you additional proofs of the con- 
 stancy and fidelity of my attachment towards your- 
 self."" 
 
 " Oh, Ellen !" he exclaimed, "you have rejected 
 these brilliant offers on my account ! — and I who 
 have displayed so much ungenerous suspicion in 
 return ! Ah, my conduct savours of the blackest 
 ingratitude " 
 
 " Speak not thus, Henry," I interrupted him ; 
 " or I shall regret that I have revealed those facts 
 to your cars. Yet after Laving been suspected," 
 I added, in a gentler voice, "it is sweet for me to 
 be enabled to afford you these proofs of my un- 
 changed and unchangeable love !" 
 
 "And henceforth, Ellen," replied my cousin, 
 " the whole study of my life shall be to ensure 
 your happiness. Yes— doubtless you have received 
 brilliant offers ; and you will yet receive others ; 
 for you are as beautiful as you are talented, and as 
 intelligent as you are amiable. Oh ! would that I 
 had some prospect of achieving reputation and 
 wealth on my own side !— but I fear that when the 
 day comes which is to unite us, no more to part, it 
 will be but a humble bridegroom who will conduct 
 you to the altar 1" 
 
 "You will at least bear the reputation of an 
 honourable man, Henry," I replied : " whatsoever 
 you possess — be it much or little — will have been 
 earned by your own honest industry;— and when 
 we throw the contents of our purses into a com- 
 mon stock, we shall not pause to examine who 
 may have contributed the most." 
 
 Thus Henry and I sat conversing until ho 
 deemed it prudent to take Jiis departure, — pro- 
 mising to return on the following day ; and he ' 
 left me in a state of mind very different from that 
 which I experienced when entering Paisley a few 
 hours back. I slept sweetly and serenely that 
 night; and when I arose in the morning, it was 
 scarcely with any sense of fatigue. Indeed, 
 w'hen I looked at myself in the glass, I was sur- 
 prised as well as rejoiced at the improvement 
 which had taken place in my aspect. 
 
 I was not altogether sorry that my union with 
 Henry was yet to be postponed for a twelvemonth 
 — although I regretted the necessity of a complete 
 separation for such a period. But in respect to 
 the postponement of our marriage, I thought that 
 it was perhaps all for the best, as we were still 
 both very young — I only nineteen and my cousin 
 twenty-one; and moreover, as he had a prospect of 
 gaining some little money during the ensuing 
 twelvemonth, I knew that it would bettei: suit the 
 manly independence of his spirit that he should
 
 i'lLEN PERCY ; OK, TUB MEMOIRS OP AN ACIEESS. 
 
 219 
 
 lil^a^^ 
 
 possess a purse of bis o^n, and not be altogetber 
 indebted to Lis wife for tbe means of existence. 
 Besides, I vrisbed him to gain as large an expe- 
 rience of the world as possible — so as completely 
 to eflface whatsoever little prejudices might have 
 been instilled into his mind during the earlier 
 period of his life. Thus, for these various reasons, 
 I was far from being displeased at the necessity of 
 procrastinating tho happy day which would give 
 me a legal protector in Henry Wakefield. 
 
 Shortly after breakfast he came to me at the 
 hotel : he had informed Mr. Macdonald of my pre- 
 sence in Paisley and of the engagement which sub- 
 sisted between us : the worthy manufacturer had 
 sent me a message to the effect that his wife and 
 daughters would call upon me in the course of the 
 day, and that I must dine at his bouse in the 
 evening. Henry bad yet three or four days to re- 
 main at Paisley ; and I was resolved to tarry there 
 likewise until he took his departure : but 1 did not 
 No. 32.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 purpose to accompany him to Liverpool, for fear 
 lest an occasion should be given for the whisper- 
 ings of scandal. Mr. Macdonald'a wife and 
 daughters called upon me in the afternoon : they 
 were amiable good-hearted ladies, and proud as 
 well as delighted to form my acquaintance. I 
 passed a happy evening at their house ; for Henry 
 himself was there — and in bis society how could 
 I be otherwise than happy ? Mr. Macdonald took 
 an opportunity of assuring me that he had every 
 reason to be satisfied with my cousin, to whose in- 
 telligence and perseverance he was indebted for 
 the recovery of a very large sum of money which 
 had been owed him by his New York agents, who 
 had fallen into difficulties. But it appeared that 
 Henry had so judiciously managed the business 
 entrusted to him that he had enabled those agents 
 not only to meet their liabilities but also to save 
 themselves from total bankruptcy. Mr. Mac- 
 donald added that he bad such perfect confidence
 
 250 
 
 BLLBN FESCT; OB, ISB UBU0IB3 O? AS ACTIIEB9. 
 
 in Henry's rectitude, intelligence, and business- 
 like Labits, he was now on the point of entrusting 
 him with the management of a very considerable 
 speculation, the result of which might prove most 
 lucrative to my cousin as well as to the manufac^ 
 turer himself— but that the former was guaranteed 
 against all the conficquences of loss. I was de- 
 lighted to hear Heary thus favourably spoken of, 
 and I now comprehended how it was actually a 
 point of honour with him to carry out the agree- 
 ments he had made with his kind and conliding 
 patron. Eefore this little conversation between 
 myself and Mr. Macdonald ended, he- hinted to 
 me that if the enterprise on which my cousin was 
 bent, should prove successful and realize the hopes 
 he bad held out, there was every chance that ho 
 might be taken into partnership with his patron. 
 
 The time passed quickly away— as quickly as it 
 always does when happily spent; and the day 
 arrived on which I was to bid Henry farewell. 
 He comprehended the reason which prevented me 
 from accompanying him to Liverpool ; and I saw 
 by his looks that he approved of it. We embraced 
 each other fervidly : again and again did we 
 embrace : we exchanged the warmest protesta- 
 tions of unalterable offection and we sepa- 
 rated ! For the remainder cf that day I was dull 
 and unhappy enough, so that I could scarcely 
 reconcile myself to the philosophy of those reason- 
 ings which had at first induced me to consider 
 that the postponement of our marriage was all 
 for the best. But when the following day came, 
 and my mind was more tranquillized by the effects 
 of a night's rest, I again viewed the matter in the 
 eame light as I had previously done ; and I said 
 to myself, " Henry will be successful in this new en- 
 terprise — I am confident that he will ! And if so, 
 how rejoiced shall we be for having made the 
 temporary sacrifice of our more selfish feelings !" 
 
 I now prepared to quit Paisley. I had already 
 hinted to Beda that the object of my visit to that 
 town was to see my cousin— but that this circum- 
 stance was included in the secrecy that she was to 
 maintain with reference to the whole proceeding. 
 Beda faithfully promised to obey all my injunc- 
 tions ; and the devoted girl was rejoiced to see me 
 Eo happy as I had. been since that memorable 
 evening of explanations with Henry Wakefield. 
 I took leave of the Macdonald family, and we set 
 out on our return southward. 
 
 We arrived at Birmingham without any inci- 
 dent worthy of mention: it was about seven 
 o'clock in the evening when we reached that great 
 manufacturing town ; and there we were to pass 
 the night. Mr. Singleton, the surgeon at Eiver, 
 had given me a prescription for some medicine 
 which he had enjoined me to take for some little 
 time until I should find my strength completely 
 restored ; and I was too careful of my health to 
 neglect that well- meant advice. After having 
 partaken of dinner at the hotel where I put up, I 
 sent Beda out to a chemist's to get the prescrip- 
 tion made up ; for 1 had exhausted the last supply 
 of the medicine ere I left Paisley. It was at 
 about half-past eight that I thus despatched Beda 
 on her errand ; and I sat either engaged with my 
 own thoughts, or else reading a local newspaper, 
 for upwards of an hour, when it suddenly struck 
 me as somewhat singular that Beda had not re- 
 turned to the room. Still I thought that she 
 
 might have taken the medicine to my bed-charcber, 
 and that she was perhaps in her own room, 
 which communicated with my sleeping-apartment. 
 Thither I proceeded : but Beda was not there — 
 neither could I perceive the medicine. I descended 
 to the sitting-apartment— rang the bell — and in- 
 quired of the waiter whether my maid had re- 
 turned from an errand on which I had sent her 
 upwards of an hour back ? He said that he would 
 see : but in a few minutes he reappsarcd, with 
 the intimation that he could not find my maid 
 anywhere in the hotel. I merely bade him direct 
 that she should be sent to mc when she returned ; 
 and in his presence I betrayed no emotioa at her 
 prolonged absence. 
 
 I thought to myself that Beda must have some 
 very good motive for thus remaining away ; and 
 remembering the recent incidents at Eamsgate, I 
 could not possibly conceive anything to her disad- 
 vantage. But I feared lest some new plot might be 
 hatching against myself— though I felt confident 
 that if this were the case, and she had found a 
 clue to it, she would likewise discover the moans 
 of baffling it. Another half-hour passed : it was 
 now ten o'clock — and still she returned not. 
 I was growing exceedingly uneasy ; for I re- 
 membered that the cottage where Zarah and 
 her grandmother had recently dwelt, was at 
 no great distance from Birmingham j and I 
 thought it possible that Beda's absence might ba 
 in some way connected with the old gipsy. I 
 waited another half-hour with increasing anxiety : 
 it was now midway between ten and eleven 
 o'clock ; and I could endure this state of suspense 
 no longer. I again rang the bell, and inquired if 
 my maid had returned ? Still the answer was in 
 the negative ; and now I did not endeavour to 
 conceal my uneasiness. The waiter suggested 
 that possibly my maid might have some friends 
 in Birmingham, whom she had gone to visit. I 
 afi'ected to bo satisfied with this explanation : for 
 what else could I say ? what else could I do ? 
 
 Time passed on — midnight came— and still Bjda 
 had not returned. I felt so seriously uneasy that 
 I apprehended my sensations would produce a 
 relapse, and I should be thrown upon a sick bed 
 in a strange place where I was without friends. 
 I thought of a thousand schemes — of hiring a 
 vehicle at once and proceeding to the roadside 
 cottage on the way to Embledon— of repairing to 
 a magistrate— of wandering out on foot through 
 the streets in search of the lost one : but to 
 nothing definite could I settle my mind. I sat 
 up till near one o'clock ; and then, thoroughly ex- 
 hausted, I retired to rest. An uneasy sleep visited 
 me. I was haunted by painful dreams ; and when 
 I awoke in the morning I felt ill and feverish. 
 
 As I looked around the room, I perceived that 
 the door of communication with the inner cham- 
 ber was open ; and I had a perfect recollection of 
 having closed it ere seeking my couch. Was it 
 possible that Beda had returned ? I sprang 
 from the bed — rushed into the adjfici?nt chamber 
 — and to my joy discovered the objtct of my 
 anxiety calmly slumbering in her couch. So great 
 was my delight that I stooped down and kissed 
 her with a degree of fervour that had little regard 
 fur the slumber in which she was wrapped ; — and 
 she opened her large dark eyes. 
 
 " Au, my dear mistress I" she exclaimed, throvr-
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 251 
 
 tag her arms round my neck : " how you must 
 have suffered on my accouut !" 
 
 " Indeed I have, Bada !" I responded. " I 
 knew not now how to act — and if I had not now 
 found you hero I should not have suffered many 
 hours to pass without adopting energetic measures 
 for your discovery. When did you return ?" 
 
 " It was about three in the morning when I 
 reached the hotel," she replied. " Knowing that 
 tny absence must have occasioned strange sus- 
 picions amongst the domestics of the establish- 
 ment, I told the porter who let me in, that I had 
 chanced to fall in with some relatives, in whose 
 company I had been ; and to give a colour to my 
 story, I expressed the hope that I should not bo 
 chided by my mistress. The man has therefore 
 by this time repeated the tale to his fellow-domes- 
 tics; and thus my absence is so far accounted 
 for." 
 
 " But now tell me, Beda," I exclaimed, full of 
 anxiety, " what has been the real cause of this ab- 
 sence of your's ? Or perhaps you wish to sleep 
 longer— and you shall tell me presently——" 
 
 " No, Miss — I have slept sufficiently," she re- 
 plied ; '•' and I am sure that you must be dying 
 with curiosity. But perhaps you suspected that 
 there must be some strong reason " 
 
 '■' I felt confident that you were incapable of 
 absenting yourself wilfully or improperly," I has- 
 tily interjected : and then, having thrown on a 
 morning wrapper, I sat down by the side of Beda's 
 bed. 
 
 " Look at these two boxes," said the young girl, 
 her luminous eyes darting upon me one of those 
 strange looks which were so incomprehensible for 
 any one who did not rightly understand her dispo- 
 sition, or who had not positive proof of her sin- 
 cerity and trustworthiness. 
 
 As she spoke, she produced from beneath her 
 pillow a couple of little tin boxes ; and opening 
 their lids, she showed me that one contained a num- 
 ber of small lozenges, about the size of coffee-beans, 
 and of a similar colour. The other box likewise 
 contained things like lozenges : but these were of 
 a light pinky hue. I gazed upon Beda with asto- 
 nishment, — wondering what these articles could 
 possibly have to do with that mysterious absence 
 of her's which had yet to be explained. 
 
 The girl's countenance grew not merely serious 
 —there was a certain deep solemnity in her look : 
 but at the same time a visible shudder swept over 
 her sylphid form, as she said to me in slow mea- 
 sured accents, " These brown lozenges contain 
 poison : these pink ones are a complete anti- 
 dote !" 
 
 " Good heavens, Beda 1" I ejaculated, my whole 
 frame quivering with horror : but my ideas at once 
 settled upon St. Clair, Lady Lilla Esscndine, and 
 the old gipsy. 
 
 " Yes, Miss — I have told you truly," continued 
 Beda; " and again have I been fortunate enough 
 to fathom a plot which was laid against your 
 life." 
 
 " Oh, I suspected that your absence must have 
 some motive of this kind !" I exclaimed. " But 
 those wretches who are thus seeking my death ! 
 
 ■ it has now indeed become time that I should 
 
 act not merely upon the defensive " 
 
 " Listen to me," interrupted Beda ; " and hear 
 all that I have to say : it will then be time to re- 
 
 flect upoa the course which you may decide upon 
 
 pursuing. But However," she interrupted 
 
 herself, " let mo toll my tale. I was returning 
 through the stwefs last evening, after having pro- 
 cured youi" medicine at the chemist's, when I sud- 
 denly found myself face to face with the old gipsy, 
 Zarah's grandmother— Damo Betty, as we call her. 
 I showed but little astonishment, and was careful 
 not to betray the slightest annoyance at this en- 
 counter; for I could in a moment tell by the 
 dame's countenance that she had some particular 
 reason on her own part for being gratified at the 
 meeting. Thus it instantaneously flashed to my 
 mind that whatsoever her objects might be, I 
 should do well to listen to them, and with appa- 
 rent readiness lend myself to them likewise, if 
 asked to do so.—' Why, you are with Miss Percy !' 
 Dame Betty almost immediately said ; and she 
 looked me very hard in the face, as if to assure 
 herself to what extent she could trust me, or how 
 deeply I might be attached to your interests.— 
 'Oh, yes,' I answered, with an offhand air: 'did 
 you not know it before ?' — ' I only knew,' re- 
 sponded Dame Betty, ' that you had accepted ser- 
 vice with some lady : but Zsrah did not tell me 
 who she was. She had doubtless her own good 
 reasons for what she was doing when she got you 
 into Ellen Percy's service ; for though she has se- 
 parated from me and made herself a lady, yet as a 
 matter of course we continue to row in the same 
 boat.' — All the while she was thus speaking. Dame 
 Betty continued to regard me fixedly ; and there- 
 fore I knew very well that she said those things as 
 a means of probing my mind, and to ascertain 
 whether what she was throwing out at random 
 was substantially correct, — ' Yes,' I answered with 
 an air of the most perfect sincerity, ' Zarah had 
 her reasons for getting me, through some indirect 
 channel, into Miss Percy's service ; and I can as- 
 sure you,' I added, throwing a look of wicked sig- 
 nificancy at the dame, ' I keep a very sharp watch 
 upon Miss Percy's movements,' — 'No doubt, no 
 doubt,' rejoined Dame Betty, with alow chuckling 
 expression of her satisfaction. ' Zarah is always 
 afraid lest Miss Percy should turn suddenly round 
 upon Captain St. Clair. Besides, Ellen Percy has 
 somehow or another got hold of secrets which 
 render her dangerous ; and Zarah trembles for her 
 own sake and for mine also. Is it not so ?'— 
 ' Ah, dame,' I replied, ' I do not know the motives 
 which actuated Zarah : all I can say is that the 
 instructions sho gave to me seemed completely to 
 tally with everything you have just said.' — All 
 this while Dame Betty kept eyeing me with the 
 keenest scrutiny; and as you perceive, my dear 
 Miss, I was careful to say only just suflicient to 
 inspire her wit'a the completest confidence in me ; 
 but I would not give utterance to a single unne- 
 cessary word, nor appear to know too much of 
 reasons and motives, for fear lest by a single inad- 
 vertence I should excite the dame's suspicion," 
 
 " You acted moat wisely, Beda," I said. " And 
 now pray continue! I am full of impatience : but 
 do not abridge your narrative — tell it in your own 
 stylo— and give me every particular." 
 
 " Dame Betty was evidently full of confidence 
 in me," continued Beda; "and it was likewise 
 apparent enough to my comprehension that she 
 flattered herself she had completely fathomed all 
 Zarah's motives in getting me into your service.
 
 She proceeded to say, ' I saw Miss Percy and your- 
 self alight from a hackney-fly at the hotel : where 
 did you come from ?' — ' From Manchester,' I 
 readily answered. — 'And what has your mistress 
 been doing there ?' inquired Dame Betty. — 
 • Merely visiting the manager of the local theatre,' 
 I rejoined, ' with a view, I suppose, to a dramatic 
 engagement.* — ' And do you like Miss Percy ?' 
 asked the dame, now fixing her eyes upon my 
 countenance with even a still more penetrating 
 keenness than hitherto. — 'I am perfectly indif- 
 ferent with regard to her,' I answered: 'perhaps 
 if I did not know that she was an enemy of your's 
 and Zarah's, I might be inclined to like her a 
 little : but as it is, the feeling is rather otherwise.' 
 — ' Could you possibly absent yourself for a few 
 hours ?' inquired Dame Betty, ' without the know- 
 ledge of your mistress ?' — ' Oh, yes, to be sure,' I 
 readily exclaimed : ' though perhaps it would be 
 better that I should first run into the hotel and 
 invent some excuse for so absenting myself.' — 'If 
 this is not absolutely necessary,' rejoined the dame, 
 ' I had much rather you should come with me at 
 once. I want to speak to you particularly; we 
 cannot talk in the streets ; and there is no place 
 in Birmingham to which I can conduct you for 
 the business that I have in hand.'— ' Well, then,' 
 I at once answered, ' I can come with you imme- 
 diately. Miss Percy is tired with her journey; 
 she will go to bed early ; and she never asks for 
 me of an evening.' — 'Come, then,' said the old 
 woman : and she began leading the way through 
 the streets of the town. You understand, my 
 dear Miss, why I so promptly agreed to go with 
 her. I was afraid that if I first of all insisted on 
 the necessity of returning to the hotel, a suspicion 
 might be excited in her mind ; she would possibly 
 be put upon her guard ; and she might either deal 
 more reservedly with me, or else change her mind 
 and reject my serrices altogether. I of course 
 knew that my absence for several hours would 
 render you uneasy: but still I thought it better 
 that you should endure the temporary vexation of 
 suspense than that I should lose the opportunity 
 of penetrating into whatsoever fresh designs the 
 vile old dame might be harbouring against your 
 peace and security." 
 
 " You did well, Beda," I said : " you acted for 
 the best— and your conduct was marked by the 
 strictest policy and prudence, as well as by the 
 most friendly considerations towards myself. And 
 now proceed." 
 
 " Dame Betty led me to a little public-house, 
 quite on the outskirts of the town ; and there she 
 had a covered cart and an old horse waiting for her. 
 The equipage was a wretched, mean, and shabby 
 one, as you may easily suppose — just such as many 
 travelling gipsies are accustomed to use. The 
 horse was soon harnessed : we took our seats in 
 the cart, — Dame Betty performing the functions 
 of driver. We must have been pretty nearly two 
 hours in performing the dozen miles or so which 
 lay before us until the dame's cottage was 
 reached. A young woman, belonging to the 
 dame's tribe, received us at the door. This was 
 the female who supplied my place when I was in- 
 troduced, Miss, into your service. The dame led 
 me into the parlour ; and when the young woman 
 had put up the cart and horse in the old stable ad- 
 joining, the dame told her that she might go to bed, 
 
 as her services were not required any more for the 
 night. Then Dame Betty produced provisions 
 and liquor: but she did not eat or drink much, 
 for she was intent on opening her designs to me ; 
 — and as for myself, I partook not at all of the pro- 
 vender set upon the table. She again questioned 
 me in respect to my feelings towards yourself. I 
 replied in a strain similar to that in which I had 
 previously spoken of you ; and as if quite in a 
 casual manner, I threw out hints that I was be- 
 coming wearied of your service, that I hoped 
 Zarah would soon withdraw me from it, for that I 
 longed to be my own mistress, to get out into the 
 open country and to lead the free unrestrained 
 happy life of a gipsy. "Without appearing to pay 
 any particular attention to the dame's looks, I 
 nevertheless furtively watched the effect which 
 these words produced; and I saw that they had 
 accomplished my purpose by fully confirming the 
 trust she was previously disposed to place in me. 
 Yet she was evidently cautious in making her ap- 
 proaches towards the final development of her 
 views : she no doubt fancied that though my mind 
 was plastic enough in her hands, yet that she 
 must not proceed too rudely nor abruptly in mo. 
 delling it to her aims, for fear lest she should 
 shock any latent good principle still remaining 
 within me. Therefore she began to speak insidi- 
 ously and darkly relative to yourself: I threw out 
 an occasional word to give her just sufficient en- 
 couragement to proceed; and in a little while she 
 went on with a gradual abandonment of restraint 
 and reserve. She told me that I could not pos- 
 sibly hope to be freed from the shackles of my 
 present service so long as you remained in exist- 
 ence ; she likewise indirectly strove to work upon 
 my fears by telling me that if you were suddenly 
 to adopt an overt hostile attitude towards those 
 whom you knew to be your enemies, your ven- 
 geance would include me within its circle, inas- 
 much as you could not possibly fail to discover 
 that I was an agent of those enemies 'and a spy 
 upon your actions. At last she came to tho 
 
 point and here, my sweet mistress, I shudder 
 
 to repeat the dreadful things " 
 
 " I understand you, Beda !" I said, shuddering 
 also. "The vile infamous wretch proclaimed the 
 expediency, for many reasons, of putting me out 
 of existence !" 
 
 " Yes, Miss— it was so," responded Beda. " I 
 seemed to fall into her views : I first hesitated 
 sufficiently to give a better colouring to my fi.nal 
 assent ; and the wicked woman was completely 
 duped by the course which I adopted. She then 
 produced the little box containing the brown 
 lozenges ; and she bade me dissolve one daily in 
 your coffee or tea, whichsoever you might partake 
 of — or in your soup— or in whatsoever article of 
 food might be convenient for the purpose. la 
 short, from the explanations she gave me, I found 
 that those seeming coffee-berries contained a slow 
 poison— a poison which was inevitable ia its 
 effects, but which produced no outward symptoms 
 that could lead even the most skilful physician to 
 suspect its inward presence. As I listened to 
 these frightful revealings, most carefully control- 
 ling my emotions the while, several thoughts 
 flashed through my brain. There was this woman 
 in possession of a fearful weapon which dealt death 
 slowly, insidiously, imperceptibly, and iu a way to
 
 defy suspicion. If after a time she found that I 
 ho4 failed to administer it unto jou, she might 
 dcrise other means to introduce the poison into 
 ycur food. I had somewhere read or heard 
 that there is an antidote for every poison ; and I 
 was resolved, if possible, to obtain the means of 
 neutralizing this one, and therefore said to her, 
 ' Tour instructions, Dame Betty, should be followed 
 out ; but I am afraid that it will be scarcely pos- 
 sible for me to accomplish them without danger to 
 myself. Miss Percy is in the habit of taking her 
 breakfast in her chamber ; and when she has 
 finished, I sit down there to my own meal. If I 
 were to refuse, for instance, to drink the coffee of 
 which she had been partaking, it would excite sus- 
 picion.' — I devised other pretexts likewise in fur- 
 therance of the end which I had in view. — ' This 
 matter is easily settled,' said the dame; and pro- 
 ducing from a cupboard another tin box, she showed 
 me these pink-tinted lozenges. 'Here,' she con- 
 tinued, ' is an antidote for every possible poison, 
 with the one exception of prussic acid. But for 
 every venom which is not instantaneous in its 
 effects, each of these lozenges contains a neu- 
 tralizing ingredient. Fear not therefore to carry 
 out my instructions. If there be death in one 
 box, there is assuredly life in the other. I will 
 convince you. Half-a-dozen of these brown 
 lozenges would produce death in a few hours. 
 See ! I will eat double that quantity.' — Having 
 thus spoken, the vile hag crammed a dozen of the 
 brown lozenges into her mouth, and sat for a few 
 minutes crunching and sucking them. Then she 
 went through the same process with an equal 
 number of the pink lozenges; and when she had 
 finished, she said with a diabolical chuckle, ' Now, 
 my dear Beda, do you believe me?' — ' I never 
 doubted you,' I responded: 'I only wished to 
 make myself safe ; and since you have given me 
 the antidote for my own use, I have no farther 
 objection to administer the bane as you have 
 directed.' — The old woman returned to her cup- 
 board; and thence she produced two small canisters, 
 from the respective contents of which she filled up 
 the two tin boxes from which she bad taken 
 the lozenges that she herself had eaten. She gave 
 me those boxes ; and she then went forth to pre- 
 pare the old cart again to bring me back to Bir- 
 mingham. The horse was however so tired that 
 he went but slowly; and thus, what with the hours 
 lost in these journeys to and fro, and the length of 
 time I was detained at the cottage, I did not reach 
 the hotel until three o'clock this morning, as I have 
 already told you. "When parting from Dame 
 Betty, I promised, with an air of the most perfect 
 sincerity, to fulfil all her instructions; and she 
 said to me with a significant look, 'There are 
 sixty brown lozenges in the tin box : there are as 
 many pink ones. In leas than two months from 
 the present time I shall expect to hear of the 
 death of Miss Percy !'— Oh, my dear mistress, it 
 was with difficulty I could prevent myself from 
 flying like a tigress at the throat of the vile hag, 
 shrieking for assistance, and consigning her to the 
 custody of the law's officials. It required a pre- 
 terhuman power on my part to perform a last act 
 of dissimulation, and to assure her that as far as it 
 lay with me her design should be executed. And 
 thus we separated." 
 Beda's eyes had flashed forth vivid lightnings 
 
 as she gave utterance to those concluding ejacula- 
 tions which expressed so much abhorrence towards 
 the infamous woman : and I again embraced her 
 for the friendship which she had displayed on my 
 account, — renewing likewise my compliments for 
 the politic course which she had adopted. 
 
 " But now, Beda," I said, reverting to a topic 
 I which had been before touched upon between us; 
 I " the detestable wickedness of my enemies has 
 , reached a point at which it is impossible for me to 
 I remain any longer quiescent. Everything must bo 
 ! made known — the aid of the law must be invoked 
 
 ! against these fiends in human form But you 
 
 j look deeply distressed, Beda F" 
 
 " I have sworn to Zarah— sworn in the most 
 
 ! solemn and sacred manner," replied the young girl, 
 
 I with looks and accents half-mournful, half-entreat- 
 
 ! ing, " that in whatsover I might do to succour you 
 
 j — in whatsoever I may be enabled to accomplish 
 
 I with a view of shielding and protecting you — I 
 
 ' will carefully guard against any exposure. ile- 
 
 thinks you have a friendship for Zarah — from what 
 
 she said to mc she must have some little claims 
 
 upon your gratitude — and though 1 myself, dear 
 
 Miss, should be unwilling to assert any such claim 
 
 on my own part, because I would cheerfully make 
 
 any sacrifice of feeling — yes, even the sacrifice of 
 
 life itself to insure your safety or to fulfil your 
 
 wishes — jet, on the other hand " 
 
 "Enough, Beda!" I exclaimed. "After the 
 manner in which you have just been speak- 
 ing to me — and still more after the manner 
 in which you have acted towards me, it is 
 impossible that I can do anything to give you 
 pain ! Besides, I must not make you violate an 
 oath ; and in respect to Zarah, 'tis true that I am 
 under the deepest obligations to her — I could not 
 possibly prove ungrateful: — whatever her motives 
 may be I shall not pause to inquire even through 
 the medium of conjecture — I am bound to respect 
 them." 
 
 "And then too," observed Beda, solemnly, 
 " amidst the sublime truths which you yourself, 
 dear Miss, have taught me, is there not one which 
 is perhaps more deeply impressed upon my mind 
 than any other ?— the one which teaches me that 
 innocence and virtue must triumph in the long 
 run over the machinations of the wicked — that the 
 latter will be in the end discomfited— and that they 
 will sooner or later trip and fall over the rugged- 
 ness of the tortuous paths which they themselves 
 have made." 
 
 "Yes, Beda— this is true," I answered, gazing 
 upon her with affectionate interest and adiniration 
 as there seemed to be a divine light in her eyes 
 while she thus spoke ; and that holy lustre shed its 
 beams over her transcendantly beautiful coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Besides," she continued, now reverting to more 
 worldly and more matter-of-fact concerns, " there 
 is one immense point gained from the incidents 
 of the past night. Tou possess an antidote for 
 almost every poison ; and there are two ways in 
 which this fact is to be looked upon as a subject 
 for self-gratulation. In the first place, it must in 
 the course of time become apparent to your ene- 
 mies that I have failed, for some reason or another, 
 to administer the poison : if they suspect my fide- 
 lity towards them, they may seek other means of 
 accomplishing the same end ; but the antidote is in
 
 254 
 
 EliLEW PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 your possession ! In the second place, if they do 
 believe that I have proven faithless to them, they 
 may suppose likewise that I have given you this 
 antidote ; and in that case they will deem it useless 
 to renew this fearful phase of their machinations. 
 Thus, in every way, a manifest advantage has been 
 gained on our side — while a proportionate defeat 
 will have been experienced on the other." 
 
 "True, Beda!" I said: and I found that I had 
 as much reason to admire the intelligence as to ap- 
 preciate the friendship and the fidelity of this 
 young creature : so that I was more than ever re- 
 joiced at having obeyed the impulse which in the 
 first instance led me to take her into my service ; 
 and a secret voice appeared to whisper in my soul 
 that I was now reaping a reward for a good deed 
 which I had performed. 
 
 I bade Beda dispose of the box of poisoned 
 lozenges in a manner which should place them be- 
 yond the reach of human hands ; and I myself took 
 possession of the pink ones constituting the anti- 
 dote. I endeavoured to persuade her to remain a 
 few hours longer in bed after the fatigue she had 
 experienced on the preceding night ; but she de- 
 clared that she was completely refreshed by the 
 slumber she had already enjoyed: she accordingly 
 rose and performed her toilet. I took an oppor- 
 tunity during breakfast-time of saying something 
 to the waiter which should prevent him from enter- 
 taining any opinion prejudicial to Beda's character 
 on account of her protracted absence from the 
 hotel at such unseemly hours ; and the man was 
 satisfied by the voluntary explanation which I thus 
 threw out. I should observe that much though I 
 had sufi'ered from anxiety and suspense for so many 
 long hours on account of Beda's disappearance — 
 and much though I had feared that the efiect would 
 be prejudicial to my health — yet the joy experienced 
 at her return had produced a most salutary reac- 
 tion in me, and I was fully prepared for my jour- 
 ney to the metropolis. 
 
 Attended by Beda, I proceeded to the railway- 
 station ; and as I chose to keep her with me while 
 travelling, I required two places in a first-class 
 carriage. We were consigned to a compartment 
 in which there was only one other passenger be- 
 sides ourselves : and this was an elderly man of 
 somewhat haughty and aristocratic appearance. 
 Just before the train started, a domestic in a hand- 
 some livery came up to the window, and with a 
 respectful touch of his hat inquired " whether his 
 lordship had any additional instructions to give 
 him ?" 
 
 The reply was in the negative : the lacquey re- 
 tired ; the steam-whistle sent its shrill note shriek- 
 ing and screaming through the immense station— 
 the train rolled on — and we were soon proceeding 
 with the accustomed velocity of " an express " 
 towards the capital. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE EAILWAT TRAIN. 
 
 From the manner in which the lacquey had 
 addri'ssed our aristocratic-looking fellow-traveller, 
 it wiis evident that he was a nobleman. He was 
 perhaps about sixty years of age— of a very florid 
 
 complexion, with a short neck, and altogether an 
 apoplectic appearance : yet in spite thereof there 
 was a certain air of distinction about him, as I 
 have already said, which prevented me from being 
 at all surprised on learning that he was of patri- 
 cian rank. For a few moments after we had taken 
 our seats, he surveyed Beda with considerable at- 
 tention and interest: but he was unable to be- 
 hold much of my countenance — for I had my veil 
 down. The nobleman spoke not a word ; and soon 
 after the train started he drew forth from his 
 pocket a newspaper : but every now and then I 
 observed that he looked over it to take another 
 survey of Beda — though I should add that there 
 was nothing rude nor insolent in the mute atten- 
 tion which he bestowed upon her. 
 
 We had proceeded a considerable distance — and 
 I knew that we could not be many miles away 
 from Eugby— when the newspaper glided down 
 from the nobleman's hands, and a sound which for 
 an instant I thought to be a moan, came from his 
 lips. He was lying back in his seat ; and I then 
 fancied that he had sunk into slumber. But still 
 there was a floating uneasiness in my mind : I 
 lifted my veil — I contemplated him earnestly — the 
 florldness of his complexion had become enhanced 
 into a fearful redness — and he was slightly moving 
 as if under the influence of pain. 
 
 '•■ My lord," I cried, " is anything the matter ? 
 — are you unwell ?" 
 
 There was no answer ; and I therefore felt con- 
 vinced that he was stricken by apoplexy. 
 
 "Call — shriek — scream from the window!" I 
 exclaimed to Beda : " agitate your kerchief ! The 
 train must be stopped !" 
 
 Beda hastened to obey me ; but at that instant 
 the train plunged into a tunnel, through which it 
 went roaring, crashing, dashing on, with such a 
 din — the continuous scream of the whistle mingling 
 with the other deafening sounds — that Beda's 
 cries were lost in the tremendous noise. There was 
 a lamp in the roof of the carriage ; and in the 
 meanwhile I was not idle. I had rushed towards 
 the nobleman immediately upon comprehending 
 his perilous position ; and while still giving utter- 
 ance to my hasty instructions to Beda, I was 
 tearing ofi" his neckcloth and raising him up to a 
 more comfortable position. Beda went on scream- 
 ing and shrieking : but she could not compete 
 with the shrill cry of the railway whistle; and 
 though I was dreadfully alarmed lest the unfor- 
 tunate nobleman should expire before assistance 
 could possibly be obtained, yet I did not for a 
 moment lose my presence of mind. I had at 
 some time or another read just sufiicient of the 
 treatment of apoplexy in the absence of medical 
 succour, to know what treatment to adopt. I 
 kept the nobleman with the head and shoulders 
 elevated, retaining the former in such a way as to 
 prevent any sudden bend of the neck : I had 
 taken off his neckcloth— I unbuttoned his shirt- 
 collar. The window next to him was at first 
 closed : but this I let down so as to admit as much 
 air as possible. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs, in side our com- 
 partment of the railway -carriage, when the train 
 emerged from the tunnel; and now Beda's screams 
 and shrieks attracted attention. But in the first 
 instance it was only the notice of paesengers in 
 the neighbouring compartments and in the adja-
 
 ELLEN PEKCTJ OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 I. 
 
 cent carriages which was thus reached : conse- 
 quently several minutes still elapsed before tha 
 train could be stepped; — and then there was a 
 general rush of officials and passengers towards 
 our compartment. The truth was soon made 
 known : there fortunately happened to be a medi- 
 cal gentleman amongst the passengers ; and he at 
 once gave bis attentions to the nobleman. 
 
 My veil was now raised : I found myself recog- 
 nised by several individuals, although they were 
 not personally knovirn to me : but when compli- 
 menting me on the presence of mind which I had 
 displayed, they addressed me by the name of Miss 
 TrafFord. The surgeon speedily pronounced that 
 his lordship might be safely conveyed on to Eugby ; 
 and ho urged that the train should be set in mo- 
 tion again with the least possible delay. The 
 livery servant, who was one of the first to rush 
 to our compartment, exhibited the utmost anxiety 
 on behalf of his noble master; and I overheard 
 ofic of the passengers inquire who his lordship 
 was ? I then learnt from the answer given by the 
 domestic, that ho was the Earl of Carshalton — 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's father. 
 
 The train pursued its way, — the surgeon con- 
 tinuing to maintain bis lordship in precisely the 
 same posture as I had previously done. Water, 
 which had been procured, was poured upon the 
 patient's head ; and he exhibited signs of revival, 
 though still remaining unconscious of all that was 
 passing around him. The domestic had begged 
 permission to enter the compartment so as to be 
 in close attendance upon his master ; and I had of 
 course readily given my assent. 
 
 I had now leisure to explain more fully to the 
 medical gentleman and to his lordship's domestic 
 all that had occurred, and what I had done to 
 afford temporary assistance. 
 
 "I do not hesitate to declare," exclaimed the 
 surgeon emphatically, "that to you, Miss Traf- 
 ford, will his lordship be indebted for his life if he 
 should recover— as I trust and hope he will. At 
 all events that he should be alive noto is entirely 
 owing to your prompt and skilful succour. Had 
 you displayed less presence of mind— or had you 
 been ignorant of the requisite treatment to adopt 
 —the Earl must have perished." 
 
 "I may venture to assure Miss Trafford," said 
 the servant, who was a very civil, well-behaved, 
 and intelligent man, " of the lasting gratitude of 
 the noble family whose chief is now indebted to 
 her for his life. His lordship has been on a visit 
 to his country-seat near Embledon; and I could 
 not help noticing yesterday — but still more espe- 
 cially this morning — that his complexion was more 
 florid than usual. The colour itself was different, 
 — and instead of being confined to the cheeks, it 
 was a flush all over the face. I thought it pecu- 
 liar : but I certainly had no misgivings of any 
 serious nature." 
 
 The surgeon now intimated that on arriving at 
 Eugby it would be necessary to convey his lord- 
 ship to a hotel, where he must be taken the utmost 
 care of until some of the members of his family 
 could be fetched from London. The servant ex- 
 pressed a hope that the medical gentleman would 
 be enabled to remain at Rugby with the Earl — a 
 proposition which was.agreed to. 
 
 "And you yourself," I said to the domestic, 
 ." may likewise remain in all confidence with your 
 
 noblo master : for I promise you that the very in- 
 stant London is reached, I will proceed forthwith 
 to Carshalton House and break to her ladyship tho 
 Countess what has occurred." 
 
 The servant expressed his warmest gratitude for 
 this offer on my part— which was all the more wel- 
 come to the man inasmuch as it enabled him to 
 remain with his master instead of entrusting his 
 lordship to the care of strangers. Ho informed me 
 that the Countess of Carshalton was in an indiffe- 
 rent state of health — that she was weak and ner- 
 vous — and that I must therefore bo guarded in the 
 manner in which I broke the intelligence to her 
 ladyship. To this instruction I promised to at- 
 tend ; and in a few moments afterwards the train 
 drew up at the Rugby Station. 
 
 The Earl of Carshalton, still unconscious of his 
 position, was carefully removed from the compart- 
 ment ; and when the train resumed its way, I had 
 leisure to reflect upon everything that had occurred. 
 Singular to me appeared the coincidence that I 
 should have become instrumental in saving the 
 life of that very nobleman for the forging of whoso 
 name my unfortunate father had been sentenced to 
 transportation ! Yet, be it remembered that the 
 Earl was in no way to blame in that transaction : 
 he had originally proved a kind and generous 
 friend to my father — it was his lordship who had 
 given my sire his incumbency— and it was the 
 money-lender who had discounted the forged bill, 
 not the nobleman whose name was forged, that 
 had 80 inexorably prosecuted my parent. The 
 reader is already aware that the Earl of Cnrshalton 
 was the father of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe— that 
 young nobleman whose wickedness had blighted 
 the hopes and happiness of my friend Juliet. 
 
 When the train reached London, I informed the 
 guard and several of the passengers who addressed 
 me on the subject, that I had undertaken to con- 
 vey the intelligence of the Earl's illness to the 
 Countess of Carshalton ; and all possible despatch 
 was therefore used to get me a cab. While pro- 
 ceeding with Beda towards Carshalton House at 
 the West End of the town, I could not help hoping 
 within my own mind that I should not there en- 
 counter Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ; for 1 felt that 
 the very sight of the treacherous young nobleman 
 would prove most hateful to me. My apprehension 
 on this head was not fulfilled : Lord Frederick 
 was out at the time when I arrived at the noblo 
 mansion ; and I was soon conducted into the pre- 
 sence of the Countess. I found her ladyship alone : 
 she was a thin sickly-looking woman, about fifty 
 years of age — proud, reserved, and distant. I had 
 sent up the name of Miss Trafford, together with 
 the announcement that I sought an interview with 
 her ladyship on most particular business, which did 
 not however regard myself : so that I at once ob- 
 tained an audience. She was at first coldly polite j 
 yet the distance of her manner did not prevent ma 
 from acquitting myself of my self-imposed task 
 with all suitable delicacy. The intelligence was 
 thus gradually broken ; and then I was over- 
 whelmed with a thousand questions, which her 
 ladyship put with a nervous vehemence. I was 
 fortunately enabled to assure her that the medical 
 man whom I had left in attendance upon tho Earl 
 had given every hope of a favourable issue : and 
 as I was compelled to detail all the circumstaucca 
 of the affair, her ladyship learnt how I had ren-
 
 ELiEX PEKCT; ok, THE MEMOIKS OF A>- ACTEESS. 
 
 dered a certaia degree of succour. She was now | at once perceived that she remained in ignorance 
 all gratitude and affability towards me; and as I of the cause of my swoon as well^ as of my present 
 had taken the precaution, before I left the rail- distress: and I glanced rapidly upon the sofa 
 wav-btation, of desiring that a special train should | and the floor to see whether the letter and the 
 be "got in Readiness, the Countess was enabled to - envelope were still where I must hare dropped 
 depart with the least possible delay. | them. But no ! they met not my eyesj andBeda 
 
 I now proceeded to the Marquis of Campanella's ' at once exclaiaed, " It must hare been sudden in- 
 mansit>n, which was at no great distance. I had I disposition— I am sure it was : for I fortunately 
 been exactly a week absent ; and I found letters entered the room just as you had fainted, Miss— 
 frem Mrs. Xorman, from Mrs. Oldeastle, from and before her ladyship arrived." 
 Juliet, and from Mary Glentworth. Fortunately I was struck by Beda's words and manner; it 
 none of these had required any immediate an- j seemed as if she were prompting me to the mode 
 Bwer ; and thus the delay in replying to them ; of affording an explanation to the Marchioness and 
 would not appear singular. I was most kindly re- [ giving me to understand that I need not say any- 
 ceived by the Marquis, the Marchioness, and Bea- j thing about the letter. It therefore naturally 
 trice— who all expressed their hope that I would i occurred to me that BeJa herself had read it, and 
 now remain with them for as long a time as pos-' ' that consequently Juliet's secret was now known 
 
 Bible. This invitation I accepted, because, as the 
 reader will recollect, I had left Eiver House on the 
 pretext of having change of air in the metropolis, 
 and I thought that I must remain away at leaat 
 another week before I could with propriety return 
 to Mrs. Oldcastle's abode. Besides, considering 
 my recent severe illness, I was anxious to recruit 
 my strength as much as possible : for notwith- 
 standing I had suffered so little from the effects of 
 travelling, I experienced the necessity of repose 
 and quietude. 
 
 On the following day I answered the various 
 kind letters which I had received from Eamsgate 
 and from Eiver House ; and I sent to the Earl of 
 Carshalton's mansion to inquire whether any intel- 
 ligence had been obtained in respect to his lord- 
 ship. The answer was completely favourable : in- 
 formation had been received that morning, and all 
 danger was entirely past. 
 
 Three or four days elapsed ; and one afternoon 
 I was seated by myself in the drawing-room of the 
 Marquis of Campanella's mansion, when a small 
 packet was brought in to me by one of the domes- 
 tics. It was a little brown paper parcel, which 
 had arrived by some conveyance — an afternoon- 
 coach most probably— from Eiver House ; and I 
 was seized with both alarm and wonder that such 
 a means of transmitting a letter to me should have 
 been adopted in anticipation of the ordinary course 
 of the post. I tore open the packet : it contained 
 a note from Mrs. Oldeastle — and the contents of 
 that note were brief but painful indeed. Juliet's 
 child had expired in the morning, after being 
 seized with convulsions ; and the poor mother was 
 distracted. Such an effect did the letter produce 
 upon me that I fainted upon the sofa. When I 
 Clime back to consciousness I found poor Beda 
 weeping on her knees beside me — while the Mar- 
 chioness of Campanella, who had just returned 
 from paying some visits, was assisting the faithful 
 and attached girl to afford me the necessary mi- 
 nistrations. The tears flowed from my eyes as I 
 thought of the death of that poor little innocent 
 whom a month back I had fondled in my arms — 
 and as I thought likewise of poor Juliet's dis 
 
 to her. Concealing my annoyance as well as I 
 was able, I turned to the Marchioness, thanking 
 her for her kindness, and assuring her that the 
 indisposition which had temporarily overpowered 
 me was now past. I then retired to my own 
 chamber, followed by Beda. 
 
 The instant we were alone together, Beda pro* 
 duced the envelope and the letter — saying, " I 
 thought. Miss, the moment I beheld these upon 
 the carpet, that the note had conveyed some evil 
 tidings. I knew not whether you would wish them 
 to be communicated to your friends ; and I there< 
 fore took a precaution which left you {lee to make 
 any statement you might think fit." 
 
 "And you did not read this note, Beda?" I 
 said, fixing my eyes penetratingly upon the young 
 girl's countenance. 
 
 " Xo, Miss ! I am incapable of such a thing !" 
 she exclaimed, a slight flush of indignation ap- 
 pearing on her countenance ; and that it was the 
 honest indignation of innocence which felt itself 
 to be suspected, I was in a moment convinced. 
 
 " Beda," I said, embracing the young girl, 
 " for an instant I wronged you ! Deeply, deeply 
 do I regret that I should have done so !" 
 
 " Ah, dear Miss," responded Beda, pressing my 
 hand fervently, while the tears stood in her lumi- 
 nous eyes, " you do not yet understand my cha- 
 racter. Towards j/ou I am incapable of the 
 slightest act of perfidy : I should thoroughly and 
 utterly despise myself if I were guilty of any 
 meanness in regard to one to whom I am un- 
 der such deep obligations. But oh ! it is very dif. 
 ferent when dealing with your enemies. Then 
 there is no dissimulation which I would not prac- 
 tise — no hypocrisy for which I should not be com- 
 petent ! But the Beda who would be thus acting 
 is a very different Beda from the one that you 
 have about your person ! In time you will know 
 me better." 
 
 '• I know you thoroughly now, my dear girl !" 
 I exclaimed, again caressing her affectionately : 
 " this last act of yours has developed a trait of 
 your character which proves your integrity and 
 your high principle, as former deeds have shown 
 
 tracted state of mind; for notwithstanding the I your love and devotedness. The letter does in- 
 circumstances attending the birth of the babe, its I deed contain a piece of intelligence which I do not 
 young mother had doted on it with the fondest i choose to impart to my friends beneath this roof: 
 
 adoration. I it is the death of one in whom I am interested 
 
 The Marchioness gently inquired whether any- | But ah I start not, Beda ! it is not he whom you 
 
 thing had occurred to distress me— whether I had ' saw at Paisley heaven forbid ! And now leave 
 
 received some sudden fright— or whether I had me, my dear girl : I would be alone." 
 
 been abruptly attacked with indisposition f I thus I 1 resolved to return to Eiver House on the mur-
 
 BLT.KN PJiKCr; 01!, THE MEJIOIES OP AN ACTKESS. 
 
 row, in order to do my beat to console tny poor 
 fricud Juliet: but as I felt convinced that the 
 next njorning's post wouM bring me a letter 
 with further details, I determined to say nothing 
 in the mean time of ray intention to depart from 
 London, for fear lest it should be thought by my 
 friends at the mansion that I had indeed received 
 afflicting intelligence which had caused my swoon; 
 and in this case they would consider it strange 
 that I excluded them from my confidence. As I 
 had foreseen, the next day's post brought me a 
 letter from Mrs. Oldcastle, begging me to come 
 to Juliet if I had not already set off on my return 
 to Eiver House. With this letter in my hand, at 
 the breakfast- table, I was enabled to say that my 
 friend Mrs. Oldcastle was most impatient for mo to 
 return to her, and that I must therefore depart 
 without any further delay. The Marquis, the 
 Marchioness, and Beatrice were very much con- 
 cerned when they understood that I thus purposed 
 jSTo. 33.— Elleit Pbect. 
 
 [ to quit them: but they fully believed that Mrs. 
 ' Oldcastle had such special claims upon my atten- 
 I tion as I represented ; and they therefore resigned 
 I themselves to part from me, exacting the promise 
 ' that I would on a future occasion pass a longer 
 period with them. They were deeply grateful for 
 the services which at the time I had been enabled 
 to render Beatrice ; and they lost no occasion of 
 i testifying their friendship for me. I should ob- 
 serve that I saw Lady Cecilia Urban during this 
 short stay of mine at the Marquis of Campa- 
 nella's ; and she treated me in the kindest and 
 most affable manner. I should also mention that 
 1 had called upon Zarah : but she was temporarily 
 absent from her lodgings. Of St. Clair and Lady 
 Lilla Essendine I neither saw nor heard anything: 
 ; but on one occasion I caught a glimpse of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Parks, in their elegant phaeton, dashing 
 along the street in which the mansion of the Mar- 
 quis was Bituated.
 
 258 
 
 ELiEN PEKCT; OK, THE MEJIOIEB OF AN ACTEE88. 
 
 I had resolved to proceed as far as Kamsgate by 
 the 6teain-paoket in order that I might see my 
 faithful Beda safe to her destination with the 
 Normaus again ; and this time I had not so much 
 trouble in reconciling her to a temporary separa- | 
 tion, inasmuch as she saw that I loved her, and i 
 she was proud of having been taken into my con- | 
 fidence with regard to my journey to Paisley. It | 
 was at about four o'clock in the afternoon that the 
 steam-packet reached Ramsgate, and I found that j 
 Mr. and .Mrs. Norman were much distressed on i 
 account of the death of Juliet's child,— not that j 
 they themselves could have entertained much j 
 affection for a little being that they had never j 
 seen, and whose departure from this world might i 
 for its own sake, uader the ciicumstances, be i 
 almost regarded as a happy release— but because i 
 they had seen from the distracted letter which 
 Juliet herself had penned to them how profoundly 
 she felt her bereavement. j 
 
 And here I cannot help noticing how strong is j 
 the principle of parental afifection which is inter- | 
 woven with the soul of woman. A man seems to j 
 care only for the child that is naturally born unto 
 him, and whose birth is sanctified by the rites of 
 marriage : but even then he scarcely develops 
 any affection for the infant in its earliest days or 
 weeks, and only when by its thousand little inno- 
 cent and winning ways the child begins to render 
 itself interesting. On the other hand, though the 
 infant be born in shame, the mother loves it from 
 its very birth— and perhaps all the more too from 
 the fact that no father's arms are extended to 
 receive the little stranger. I had seen that Me- 
 lissa Harrison doated upon her own child, which 
 was the offspring and the living evidence of her 
 dishonour. I had now seen the same with my 
 friend Juliet Norman. These and other similar 
 cases have led me to the belief that parental affec- 
 tion is an innate idea with the female sex — whereas 
 with the opposite one it is not inborn, but merely 
 acquired. 
 
 It was late in the evening when I reafched Elver 
 House, where I was welcomed by Mrs. Oldcastle 
 &ni Mary Glentworth— and not the less so by 
 poor Juliet, who, afflicted though she were, had 
 every testimonial of love and friendship to lavish 
 upon me. I found that she did indeed experience 
 the utmost distress for the loss of her child — 
 though when we were alone together, she said to 
 me, " And yet, dearest Ellen, it is all for the best ! 
 for if my babe had lived, I should in a short time 
 have been compelled to part from it and consign 
 the sweet innocent to the care of strangers," 
 
 As the child was not baptised, there was no 
 necessity for formal obsequies; and when the 
 little ceremony of interment, such as it was, had 
 been completed, Juliet's mind appeared to become 
 more easy. Kesignation was taking the place of 
 the first paroxysm of distress ; and as she thus 
 acquired fortitude, she became proportionately the 
 more convinced that it was indeed all for the best. 
 Mary Glentworth— who still knew her only as 
 Mrs. Hall— bad been most kind and attentive to 
 her in her affliction ; so that this amiable young | 
 lady was now as much beloved by Juliet as she 
 was by myself. 
 
 A fortnight elapsed — at the expiration of which 
 it became necessary for me and Juliet to think of 
 rejoining Ms. and Mn. Norman; for their stay at 
 
 Eamsgate was drawing to a conclusion. I had a 
 conversation with Mrs. Oldcastle relative to Mary 
 Glentworth; and the worthy hidj assured me that 
 she should feel happy in continuing to afford a 
 home to the young friend in whom I was so 
 deeply interested. In another conversation, which 
 I had with Mary herself, she said that for the 
 present she should render Mrs, Oldcastle's kind- 
 ness available until a becoming period of mourn- 
 ing for her deceased mother had elapsed ; but that 
 then she should seriously think of the adoption of 
 other plans. I assured her there was j^lenly of 
 time to take such matters into consideration ; and 
 it was agreed between us that we should corre- 
 spond frequently until we again met. 
 
 When the day of separation came, Juliet sought 
 an opportunity of expressing to her great-aunt 
 Mrs, Oldcastle the full sense of gratitude which 
 she experienced for all that lady's considerate and 
 delicate kindness towards her ; and Mrs. Oldcastle 
 replied, " If I had not considered you worthy of 
 my best care and tenderest attention — in short, if 
 I had not been convincsd that you were entirely 
 sinned against and in no way sinning — I should 
 not have treated you thus. Your secret, my dear 
 girl, is now safe : you may go back into the great 
 world with as raueh confidence and assurance as 
 all the circumstances which have happened can 
 possibly leave behind. I am convinced that your 
 principles are good ; and as I have long been dis- 
 abused of the strong prejudices I once entertained 
 in respect to the stage, you may resume your pro- 
 fession if such be your taste. I could at once 
 render you independent thereof if I thought fit : 
 but I prefer for the present to leave you to your 
 
 own exertions though remember, at all times 
 
 you may fly to me in any emergency, with the 
 conviction that so long as you yourself are fault- 
 less you will bo received with open arms." 
 
 To me also Mrs. Oldcastle said many kind things; 
 and on both of us did she bestow several presents 
 — not very costly ones certainly — but still as wel- 
 come to us in the form of friendly testimonials as 
 if they had been of ten times the value. Wo 
 affectionately embraced the old lady and Mary 
 Glentworth; and we took our departure for 
 Eamsgate. Juliet, being possessed of a vigorous 
 constitution and robust health, had now com- 
 pletely recovered all her good looks : indeed me- 
 thought she seemed handsomer than ever. There 
 was a slight shade of pensiveness on her counte- 
 nance: but this only rendered her the more inte- 
 resting ; and she exerted all her power to resume 
 her former gaiety, for the sake of her parents and 
 myself, and likewise to avert suspicion when 
 coming in contact with the world again. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman, who had not seen her for some 
 months, were rejoiced to fold her ia their arms 
 again ; and this delight was enhanced when they 
 saw how well she was looking, and with what for- 
 titude she bore the bereavement which had at first 
 plunged her into such deep affliction. Beda was 
 happy enough on welcoming me again ; and she 
 told me that she had received a letter from Wil- 
 liam Lardner, who had succeeded in obtaining a 
 berth on board an East Indiaman. She offered to 
 show me the letter : but I would not accept the 
 proposition. I told her that I had confidence in 
 her discretion and prudence ; and that if I had 
 given her permission to correspond with the young
 
 BtLEy PEECT; OE, THE liEMOIES OV XS ACTEE83. 
 
 259 
 
 man, it was becauso I entertained that opinion 
 conoernin? lier. Here was another source of pride 
 and satisfaction for Beda, — who in one sense was 
 as artless as a child, though in other respects she 
 had all the astuteness and readiness of wit which 
 could have belonged to an experienced woman. 
 
 After three or four days' sojourn at Eamsgate — 
 where tiie fresh breezes tended still more than the 
 gentler air at River House to renovate the bloom 
 upon Juliet's cheeks— we all returned to London, 
 and were once agaia installed in Hunter Street. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 TJTE EAEL OP CABSIIAITOS. 
 
 AiioxGSX the numerous cards which had been left 
 by visitors ia our absence, and which wo found 
 upon the drawing-room table when we returned 
 home, were two which the domestic intimated had 
 been specially left for myself. These bore the 
 names of the Earl and Countess of Carsbalton, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet were all three 
 esoited and surprised at thus discovering that Lord 
 Frederick Eivenscliffd's parents had called upon 
 me: but Mr. 2forman speedilj remarked, "It is 
 merely one of those instances of homage which 
 from high quarters are paid to our dear Ellen's 
 talents." 
 
 This solution of the circumstance satisfied Mrs. 
 Norman and Juliet; and I did not choose to give 
 any explanation on the subject : for if I had ia- 
 fortni'd them of the adventure in the railway train, 
 I must have mentioned my journey to Paisley — 
 or at least have stated that I had visited Birming- 
 ham. It was through a pure feeling of modesty, 
 and from a dislike to converse on topics personally 
 interesting to myself alone, that I had hitherto 
 sail nothing in respect to my engagement to my 
 cousin Harry Wakefield, and that I now kept 
 silent relative to our recent meeting. 
 
 I conceive! it to be my duty to pay my respects 
 to the Earl and Countess of Carsbalton : and I had 
 no disinclination to take this step, inasmuch as I 
 saw by the fashionable intelligence in a newspaper 
 that Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe was at the time 
 in Paris. Accordingly, on the day after our return 
 to town, I proceeded to Carsbalton House, and 
 was at once introduced to the drawing-room— 
 where I found the Earl and Countess. His lord- 
 ship Avas now completely restored to health ; and 
 the moment I entered the room he hastened for- 
 ward, grasping both my hands with an effusion of 
 the liveliest gratitude. Tiie Countes? welcomed 
 me with an equal cordiality: they made me sit 
 between them upon the sofa ; and whatsoever aris- 
 tocratic pride — which was not a little — marked 
 their conduct at olher times, was now altogether 
 banished. 
 
 " Miss Tratford," said the Earl, " to you I am 
 indebted for my life. The surgeon and my own 
 domestic have made me acquainted with the im- 
 mensity of the obligation I owe you, far more ex- 
 plicitly than your own natural modesty would 
 suffer you to explain it when you were good 
 enough to call upon the Countess with the intel- 
 ligence of my illness. I know not how I can tes- 
 tify my gratitude. Mere words are nothing. But 
 
 if there be any service I can render — if there be 
 any friend in whom you are interested — 1 will 
 exert myself to the utmost in any task you may 
 enjoin me. My position gives me considerable 
 inlluence with the Government " 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated the Countess; "I see Misa 
 I TrafFord's countenance brightening up ! Yes— it 
 I is evident we can do something for her ! — and I 
 shall be so rejoiced ! For do you know, my dear 
 Miss Trafford, his lordship and I have been won- 
 dering how we could testify our gratitude; and it 
 would so delight us to be enabled to give you a 
 proof of it — though bear in mind that we shall all 
 the same continue your debtors." 
 
 Yes — my countenance had indeed brightened up 
 from its wonted air of calmness ; for an idea had 
 flashed into ray mind, and a wild hope had thrill- 
 ingly taken possession of my heart. 
 
 " My lord," I said, " there is indeed a favour 
 which I could ask of you, if it bo not too great— 
 a favour which would leave me immeasurably your 
 debtor " 
 
 " Name it, Miss Trafford !" both the Countess 
 and himself ejaculated as if in the same breath. 
 
 " I scarcely know how to frame my request," I 
 responded, now hesitating and suddenly seized 
 with confusion. "But Oh, my lord !— and you 
 too, my lady — listen to a secret which I have to 
 reveal to you ! My real name is not Traf- 
 ford " 
 
 " We have heard it whispered," said the 
 Countess, — " I know not exactly where — that it 
 is merely a pseudonym according to a fashion by 
 no means unusual in the dramatic world— but that 
 your real name is Percy." 
 
 " It is," I rejoined : and I felt the blood rush- 
 ing to my cheeks as I went on to say, " And does 
 not the name of Percj/, my lord, remind you of 
 some one whom in earlier years you knew and 
 befriended F" 
 
 " Good heavens !" ejaculated the Earl. " What ! 
 Percy the clergyman ?" 
 
 "' The same, my lord," I answered, with the 
 blushes deepening on my cheeks : and Oh ! that I 
 should have felt that blush glowing and burning 
 there on account of the author'of my being! 
 
 " But what do you mean ?" inquired the Earl 
 kindly. " Is it possible that any connexion sub- 
 sists between yourself and that unfortunate man 
 whom you have named ?" 
 
 " Speak, my dear girl," whispered the Countess. 
 " Do not be afraid. We are your friends." 
 
 " That unfortunate man," I said, with a con- 
 vulsive sob, "is my own father !" 
 
 "Your father !" ejaculated the Earl : and then 
 both he and the Countess surveyed me with 
 illimitable compassion. 
 
 " Yes — he is my father," I continued : " and 
 he lives — you know that he is alive, my lord ! — you 
 yourself saw him not very long ago in London I" 
 
 " It is true," rejoined the Earl of Carsbalton; 
 " and I do not bear the unfortunate man any 
 ill-will. On the contrary, Miss Percy, now that 
 I know he is so nearly connected with yourself, if 
 there be anything I can possibly do " 
 
 " My lord," I said entreatingly, " you can pro- 
 cure his pardon— you possess influence with the 
 Gjvernment — you may become the means of re- 
 storing him in safety to his own native country, if 
 I nut to society itself!"
 
 260 
 
 EllES PEUCT ; OE, THE MZIIOIKS OF AN ACTHESS. 
 
 My 
 peoal 
 
 " Anjthing that lies in my power would I do 
 to serve you. Miss Percy," eaid the Earl : " but 
 there is one circumstance " 
 
 " Alas, I know what you mean, my lord 
 unhappy father flod from the far-off 
 colony " 
 
 " It is this that constitutes the only difficulty," 
 remarked Lord Carshalton, in a musing manner. 
 " If the whole affair were to remain private — and 
 if your father would content himself with having 
 his free pardon granted, but that it should not be 
 paraded in the newspapers, it would be altogether 
 different. I however presume his object would 
 be to give publicity to the fact j and this would 
 call down upon the Government such animadver- 
 sion on the part of the liberal press, that I fear 
 the Secretary of State would hardly venture to 
 run such a risk by granting such a boon." 
 
 If I had not interrupted this speech almost at 
 the very outset, it was because hope was again so 
 vividly excited within me that my emotions choked 
 the power of utterance. At length I said, in a 
 tone of fervid and grateful enthusiasm, " Oh, my 
 lord ! there is no difficulty ! Secrecy is above a!l 
 things to be desired : whereas, on the other hand, 
 the publicity of the act would almost disincline 
 me to behold it accomplished at all. If it be pos- 
 sible to procure this pardon for my unfortunate 
 father, it would at least enable him to return in 
 safety to England — without the fear " 
 
 " Enough, Miss Percy !" said the Earl of Car- 
 shalton : " consider this as good as done. In a 
 few days you shall receive your father's pardon. 
 The Countess and myself will respect your secret ; 
 and never from our lips shall it go forth to the 
 world — no, not even to our own children." 
 
 I expressed my warmest thanks for the promise 
 held out and the assurances thus given to me; 
 and when I had recovered from the almost over- 
 powering effect of the joyous emotions which were 
 agitating in my soul, I rose to take my departure. 
 But the Earl and Countess insisted on keeping me 
 with them a little longer : luncheon was served up 
 — and we discoursed on a variety of subjects. 
 
 " By the bye," said the Earl of Carshalton, after 
 a brief pause in the conversation, " I could not 
 help noticing that sweetly interesting attendant of 
 your's who travelled with you on the occasion 
 ■when you rendered me the important service for 
 which I am so deeply grateful. I could not help 
 looking at that young girl— I hope that neither 
 you nor she thought mo rude : but there was a 
 certain reason " 
 
 " The truth is, my dear Miss Percy," said the 
 Countess, "his lordship has before told me how 
 interested he was in that beautiful little maid of 
 your's. It struck him that she was of gipsy origin 
 — or at least that there was Zingari blood in her 
 veins ; and %oe" she added in a graver tone, " have 
 the best possible reason to believe that if amongst 
 the gipsies there are bad qualities, so on the other 
 hand there are good ones." 
 
 "Yes," I answered ; " his lordship was right : — 
 that interesting dependant of mine is of gipsy 
 origin." 
 
 " I will tell you, Miss Percy," continued the 
 Countess, " why both his lordship and myself are 
 always interested when we behold a gipsy — and 
 we make it a rule never to suffer one to pass us 
 without affording some proof of this interest, which 
 
 indeed takes the form of gratitude. Our son Lord 
 Frederick, when a child, was stolen from his nurse 
 — we were staying then at our country-seat near 
 
 E cnbledon " 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated, as an idea flashed to my 
 mind : " this is indeed most singular ! Methinks 
 I can continue the narrative which your ladyship 
 has commenced. The stolen child was restored to 
 you: and you generously allowed an annuity to 
 the gipsies who afforded you this happiness." 
 
 " True, Miss Percy !" cried the Countess. " But 
 how came you acquainted with an incident of 
 which his lordship and myself have so rarely spoken 
 except within the circle of our own family ?'' 
 
 " I learnt that tale from the lips of the little 
 maiden whose appearance so much interested your 
 lordship : for she," I continued, " is the daughter 
 of those persons who restored jour child and to 
 whom you allowed an annuity." 
 
 "This is indeed most remarkable!" exclaimed 
 the Earl of Carshalton. "The name of that man 
 who restored us our child, was Robinson." 
 
 " And my youthful dependant's name is Beda 
 Robinson," I answered. " Aided by the annuity 
 which your lordship allowed, her parents were 
 enabled to live in what may be termed a respect* 
 able manner for gipsy-people. From all that I 
 have heard relative to them, they were honest and 
 
 upright " 
 
 " But if I had known where to find their 
 daughter," exclaimed the Earl, " I would have con- 
 tinued that same annuity to her. It was but 
 twenty pounds a year- it used to be paid in half- 
 yearly portions — my steward at Embledon Park 
 was entrusted with this duty — and I think it was 
 about six or seven years ago that Robinson ceased 
 to call for his stipend." 
 
 " It was at about that time he and his wife 
 died," I responded. " They were cut off suddenly, 
 by some malignant fever, within two or three days 
 of cue another ; and Beda was removed to another 
 place the instant the malady developed itself, for 
 fear that she should catch it. I have heard all 
 these particulars from Beda's own lips ; and from 
 the details which I have thus gathered, it is to be 
 presumed that her father and mother must have 
 been bo suddenly prostrated by the deadly malady 
 as to incapacitate them from making on their 
 daughter's behalf a revelation which might have 
 proved serviceable to her. All she knows is that 
 her parents received an annuity from some rich 
 personages : but she is in complete ignorance of 
 the name of the Earl of Carshalton in connexion 
 with that bounty." 
 
 "The obligation under which we lay to her 
 parents was so great," rejoined the nobleman, 
 " that we should cheerfully have continued the 
 annuity to their daughter. Indeed, when I learnt 
 that Robinson had suddenly ceased to call for his 
 money, I instructed my steward to make all pos- 
 sible inquiries concerning him : but these were •i 
 no avail. I need not now ask whether the 
 daughter of those gipsies is a deserving girl : it is 
 sufficient that she is in your service. Miss Percy, 
 to convince me of her merit. I am now prepared 
 to do for her whatever you may recommend. 
 Shall I continue the annuity?" 
 
 " Slie requires it not, my lord," I answered: 
 " she is well provided for in my service. Indeed 
 she is so faithful and affectionate, that I have
 
 ELLESf PEBCV; OE, XHK MEMOIRS OF A^f .LCIEESS. 
 
 261 
 
 every reason to treat her as a friend rather than 
 as a menial ; and I shall never lose sight of 
 her." 
 
 The Earl reflected for a few moments ; and he 
 then said, " Leave this matter to me, Miss Percy. 
 I shall not forget your young friend Beda." 
 
 I now took my leave of Lord and Lady Car- 
 shaltoD, infinitely delighted with all that had taken 
 place during our interview. I proceeded to 
 Zarah's lodgings in the neighbourhood of the 
 London University ; and on this occasion I found 
 her at home. I had not seen her for nearly two 
 months : it was at the close of June when I had 
 left Loudon for the vacation— it was now verging 
 towards the end of August. Exactly sis months 
 had elapsed since Zarah had separated herself 
 from her old grandmother Dame Betty, and had 
 assumed the position of a lady. At the time when 
 1 left London for River House she had already 
 made a truly marvellous progress in her various 
 studies J and I was now prepared to learn that 
 during those additional two mouths she had pro- 
 gressed in a proportionate degree. She was de- 
 lighted to see me : she welcomed me with all the 
 enthusiasm of the most grateful friendship ; and 
 she expressed her regret that she should have been 
 temporarily absent from her dwelling when I called 
 upon her about three weeks previously, at the time 
 I was staying with the Campanellas. 
 
 "I merely went away for a few days," she ob- 
 served, " on a visit to a watering-place ; for I had 
 studied so hard that though of a vigorous consti- 
 tution and enjoying the most robust health, I 
 nevertheless experienced the necessity of change of 
 air." 
 
 " Have you seen your grandmother recently ?" 
 I inquired. 
 
 " I have not seen her for several months," she 
 responded: "but I have every reason to believe 
 that she is perfectly quiet at her little cottage be- 
 tween Birmingham and Embledon." 
 
 " And what reason have you for this supposi- 
 tion, Zarah ?" I asked. 
 
 " Because I charged the young woman who is 
 in attendance upon her, to send me an account 
 of all my grandmother's proceedings," replied 
 Zarah. "But you, my dear Miss Percy, have 
 some motive for putting this question ?" 
 
 " Yes — I have a motive," I rejoined : " for 
 either that young woman of whom you speak 
 proves faitiikss to the instructions which you have 
 giren her ; or else your grandmother conducts 
 her proceedings with sj much stealthy caution as 
 t9 set all espial at defiance." 
 
 " What mean you ?" asked Zarah, almost 
 frightened at the words which had just fallen 
 from my lips. "Has that wretched old woman 
 been attempting aught against your peace and 
 
 security ? If so " and a dark cloud lowered 
 
 upon the duskily handsome countenance of Zarah. 
 
 Without any farther preface I proceeded to 
 relate everything that had occurred at Birming- 
 ham — how Beda had fallen in with the old dame — 
 how she had been taken to the cottage— and how 
 she had received her instructions in respect to the 
 poisoned lozenges. Zarah listened in deepest 
 silence, but with looks that indicated all the dis- 
 gust, horror, shame, and indignation which she 
 experienced at the vile machinations of her old 
 grandmother against me. 
 
 " Beda is as intelligent as she is trustworthy," 
 
 said Zarah, in a musing strain when I had ceased 
 
 1 speaking. "The answers she gave to my wicked, 
 
 j infatuated grandmother, when questioned as to 
 
 j the circumstances of her entrance into your 
 
 I service, were moat shrewd and politic. Oh, that 
 
 my grandmother should still continue to lend her- 
 
 self to the abominable schemes of your enemies !— 
 
 for there can be no doubt in respect to the truth 
 
 of your conjecture that Edwin St. Clair " — here 
 
 1 Zarah's voice trembled perceptibly — " and Lady 
 
 Lilla Esseudiue were the prime movers in this 
 
 new scheme of iniquity." 
 
 There was a brief pause — at the expiration of 
 which I said, " It was for your sake, Zarah, that 
 I yielded to Beda's representations, and forbore 
 from invoking the aid of the law against those 
 wretches." 
 
 " Ob, you are indeed justified in using harsh 
 words !" she ejaculated, while an expression of 
 bitter anguish swept over her countenance. " I 
 thank you, my dear Miss Percy— a thousand times 
 do I thank you for once again consenting to avoid 
 an exposure which would prove so fatal to those 
 principally concerned, and which would redound 
 upon others ! And, ah ! if such exposure had 
 taken place, all that I for the last six months have 
 been doing, would be utterly thrown away !" 
 
 " I do not understand you, Zarah," I observed, 
 astonished at the remark that had just fallen from 
 her lips. 
 
 " I will presently explain myself," she re- 
 sponded. "But no!" she abruptly ejaculated: 
 " I will afford you an opportunity of comprehend- 
 ing my meaning. Yes — the time is now eorae 
 when I must take the step that is to decide my 
 own fate! — that step for which during six long 
 mouths I have been so assiduously and earnestly 
 preparing myself ! And if I be successful — as I 
 hope and trust that I may — Oh ! then, in that 
 case, rest assured, my dear Miss Percy, that I 
 shall henceforth exist as a barrier between your- 
 self and any danger on the part of Edwin St. 
 Clair !" 
 
 There was another pause, during which Zarah 
 seemed absorbed in her reflections ; while I myself 
 meditated in wonder and curiosity upon the 
 strange mysterious words that had been flowing 
 from her lips. 
 
 " You did well to order those poisoned lozenges 
 to be destroyed," she said, evidently giving sudden 
 expression to a thought which had just recurred 
 to her mind. " Unfortunately, my dear friend," 
 she continued, " my grandmother possesses a mar- 
 vellous skill in the compounding of various drugs; 
 for she has been in Italy and in Egypt— and ia 
 those countries she learnt the diaboHc art. She 
 has at times spoken to me of many of her secrets; 
 and I am thus at no loss to conjecture what must 
 have been the slow poison which she used in the 
 lozenges that she gave to Beda for the purpose of 
 undermining your constitution and carrying you 
 to a premature grave. That poison is antimony. 
 By administering infinitesimal yet continuous 
 doses, the vital powers are gradually sapped— all 
 the faculties of life itself are impaired — and thus 
 by degrees the victim sinks out of existence. 
 Willie such a process is going on, the most skilful 
 medical attendant would ba baffled — he could not 
 possibly suspect the presence of this poison, so
 
 263 
 
 EIXEW PERCY ; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AK ACTRBSS. 
 
 inndioua in its operation and yet so sure in its 
 fcfTeets! But enough of the fearful subject! I 
 shudder to think of it— and I feel ashamed to con- 
 verse upon it, because it is a kinswomaa of mine 
 \vho wields that fatal and mysteriously striking 
 weapon !" 
 
 "Yes— let us turn the discourse, Zarab," I 
 said : for I saw that it gave her infinite pain. 
 " And now tell me about your studies. How do 
 they progress ? and is there any service which I 
 can render you?" 
 
 " Ah ! it is on this topic that I am now de< 
 sirous to talk with you," exclaimed Zarah, her 
 countenance brightening up. " Have you an hour 
 to spare ?" 
 
 "Two, if you please, at your service," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Then you shall subji>ct me to a species of 
 esaraioation !" she ejaculated; "for I can assure 
 you it is of importance." 
 
 Z'lrah then handed me a list of the various 
 works which she had read in the departments of 
 history, science, and general literature ; and with- 
 out any pedantic display, but even with a certain 
 degree of bashfuluess— though with a most intelli- 
 gent clearness— she proceeded to aflford me proofs 
 tliat she had studied those works to considerable 
 effect. She next sat down to the pinno, and gave 
 me several specimens of the progress she had made 
 in the study of music. When this part of the 
 examination was finished, she produced her port- 
 folio and exhibited her drawings. I was perfectly 
 astonished at the skill which these specimens dis- 
 played, considering that six months back she was 
 utterly ignorant of the art itself. Then she 
 showed me some themes and other prose-composi- 
 tions which she had achieved ; and I read them 
 with great interest and with increasing wonder- j 
 ment. Her handwriting was fluent and lady-like \ 
 — the language was perfectly grammatical — in 
 most instances it was well chosen: the only fault j 
 which hypercriticism could find with it, was that 
 in some parts it was a trifle too florid and high, 
 flown This defect — if a positive defect it were — | 
 I dclic tely pointed out to Zarah : she at once i 
 OompreUended my meaning — she saw the justice ' 
 of my strictures ; and under my supervision i 
 she proceeded to prune down all expletives and i 
 mitigate the flourishing redundancy of the pas- [ 
 Sfiges complained of. In short, I was perfectly I 
 surprised at the progress which Zarah bad made ! 
 in every branch of her self-imposed stu iies; and ] 
 I could scarcely believe that 1 beheld before me I 
 the same person who about ten months back had , 
 flung into the post-chaise, as I was returning ! 
 from Embledon, that ill-spelt letter penned in a [ 
 bold round masculine hand. ' 
 
 " You must have laboured very hard, Zarah," i 
 I observed, '•' to have accomplished so much in the ' 
 comparatively brief space of sis months ; for it is 
 only half a year since you settled yourself in these 
 lodgings to undertake your self-imposed tasks. 
 But now tell me what is the meaning of all this , 
 mystery. It is evidently connected with the step i 
 which, as you say, you are about to take— an im- I 
 portant step too!" | 
 
 " In three days hence, my dear friend," she j 
 responded, " you shall behold the solution of this , 
 mystery. Have patience for that period. It is ' 
 my intention to remove tomorrow to other lodg- 
 
 ings : I have not as jet q^uite decided where they 
 are to be; but you shall shortly receive a note 
 from me, indicating my new abode, and making 
 an appointment for you to visit me there." 
 
 " Which appointment, Zarah, I shall assuredly 
 keep," was my response : and I then took leave of 
 her, wondering what could be the mystery of her 
 conduct for the last six months, and deeply curious 
 for the solution thereof. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 A STEAIfGE SCEKE. 
 
 tTtiLiET ]!foEMAN was DOW about to return to the 
 stage. Perhaps if her own inclinations had been 
 consulted to a nicety, she would rather have re- 
 mained in seclusion for a little while longer, until 
 the full sense of her recent bereavement had worn 
 off: but a variety of considerations induced her to 
 seek an engagement at the hands of Mr. Eichards 
 with the least possible delay. In the first place 
 she was anxious to avert all suspicion in respect 
 to her retirement of a few months from the metro- 
 polis : and this she thought she could best do 
 by resuming her professional avocation immedi- 
 ately after her return from her aunt's house. la 
 the second place her parents regularly spent the 
 full amount of their salaries ; and therefore what- 
 soever Juliet might be enabled to earn became a 
 useful addition to their means : for, as I have al- 
 ready stated, from my purse they would accept 
 nothing more than the amount which they con- 
 sidered to bo a fair and commensurate remunera- 
 tion for the cost of my residence beneath their 
 roof. In the third place Juliet had her own 
 proper pride; and she naturally sought to prove 
 to Lord Frederick P.avensclifi'f that she was not 
 thoroughly heart-broken nor crushed by the in- 
 famous treatment she had experienced at Lis 
 hands. And finally, Juliet was attached to that 
 profession in which she had already won no incon- 
 siderable sh<>re of renown, and in which she was cer- 
 tain of being- able to obtain a leading position. 
 
 Mr. Richards was delighted when he received 
 an intimation that Miss K'urman was ready to 
 negoiiate for an engagement; and he proposed 
 terms so liberal that a bargain was very shortly 
 concluded. Melissa Harrison, who had hitherto 
 been the star of the ballet during the temporary 
 secession of Juliet Norman, was by no means 
 jealous when she found that our mutual friend 
 was to resume her former place as the leading 
 genius in that sphere. Juliet's reappearance upoa 
 the stage was welcome also to the public, who had 
 ever regarded her as a special favourite ; for her 
 handsome couutenance, her fine person, the lady- 
 like grace which characterized her, the refinement 
 and the elegance which she introduced into her 
 practice of the Terpsichorean art— all combined 
 thus to secure the applause of the beholders. 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of that evening of 
 ^list's reappearance. I had performed the part 
 of Lady Macbeth, and had achieved one of my 
 most glorious triumphs. I was elated and ia high 
 spirits ; for there was also in my mind the j lyous 
 recollection of the Earl of Carshalton's promise to 
 procure the pardon of my father. I was changing
 
 ELLEN PEHCT; OE, THB MBM0IS8 OP AW ACTRESS. 
 
 263 
 
 my attire, at the conclusiou ot Sbakspere's tragedy, 
 when Juliet entered my dressing'-rootn ready ap- 
 parelled for the ballet; and methought she had 
 never looked so handsome. She likewise seemed 
 to anticipate a triumph ; for there was a radiance 
 in her iHrge deep blue eyes which shed its beams 
 over that countenance which possessed so fine an 
 aquiline profile. She seemed to have a nobler 
 carriage than ever of the long arching neck ; and 
 ber form had recently taken a richer development 
 than it was even wont to have— Hebe-like as her 
 shape always was. Yet the waist preserved its 
 wasp like thinness; and notwithstanding a luxu- 
 riance of contours in some respects, her tall figure 
 displayed all that 8\lphid lightness which was 
 fitted for the dance. Her dark hair was arranged 
 in massive bands, and gathered in a Grecian knot 
 at the back of the well-shaped head. Her rich 
 full lipe, parting with the smile of anticipated 
 triumph, revealed the superb teeth : and altogether 
 it struck me that Juliet Norman had never ap- 
 peared so strikingly handsome. 
 
 Shortly after her entrance into my dressing, 
 room, Melissa Harrison came thither also; and 
 she likewise appeared more than usuallj' attrac- 
 tive. I have already ^aid that she was a hand- 
 Borae young woman, with a very fine figure : she 
 was wont to be somewhat sickly-looking —hut for 
 a considerable time past her health was greatly 
 improved : indeed I may say it was completely 
 restored ; and she had a natural colour upon the 
 cheeks which only rendered it necessary to shed 
 thereon the slightest hue of an artificial rose. 
 With two such "stars" to lead the ballet, Mr. 
 Richards had every reason to be proud as a 
 manager, and to congratulate himself on the cer- 
 tainty of reaping a golden harvest. When Juliet 
 appeared upon the stage, she was welcomed with 
 a perfect furore of applause ; and she certainly 
 acquitted herself in a manner which transcended 
 all her former efforts. The triumph she had ex- 
 pected to accomplish was thoroughly achieved ; 
 and after the curtain had fallen, she was loudly 
 called for— and on being led forward, was enthu- 
 siasticr.ily applauded. 
 
 The third day since my interview with Zarab 
 arrived ; and as yet I had not received from her 
 the promised letter to announce the address of her 
 sew lodgings and to make an appointment for me 
 to call upon her. I waited at home until past 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, expecting the ar- 
 rival of her communication by every post: but 
 still it came not. I thought that she had perhaps 
 written and that her letter might possibly have 
 miscarried : I accordingly proceeded to her lodg- 
 ings in the neighbourhood of the London Uni- 
 veisity : but I there learnt that she had removed 
 the day previously, and the landlady of the house 
 knew not whither she had gone. I returned to 
 Hunter Street: the dinner-hour passed away — 
 and still no letter arrived from Zarah. It was 
 not one of my evenings for appearing at the 
 theatre ; and I therefore remained at home, in 
 anxious expectation of receiving the promised 
 note. The Normans set o£f at their usual liour 
 for their professional engagements ; and it was 
 about eight o'clock when I heard a cab stop oppo- 
 eiie the house. One of the servants came up to 
 inform me that a lady desired to speak to me at 
 once ; and that I mi;^ht know who she was, she 
 
 had desired the domestic to intimate that it was 
 the person from whom I was expecting a letter. 
 I instantaneously conceived that as Zarah did not 
 come up-stairs, she wished me to accompany her. 
 I therefore hastened to my chamber, put on my 
 bonnet and shawl, and sped down to the cab. 
 
 "Can you come with me for an hour?" ehe 
 hastily asked : and I perceived that her voice was 
 tremulous with some deep emotion. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, at once entering the vehicle. 
 
 "Back to the house where you took me up!" 
 said Zarah to the driver ; " and go quick ! You 
 shall be well paid ! — My dear Miss Percy," she 
 continued, addressing herself to me as the cab 
 rolled rapildy along, "you must have been sur- 
 prised at not hearing from me according to pro- 
 mise ?■' 
 
 " Both surprised and uneasy," I answered : 
 '■' for I have been to your former lodgings in 
 search of you." 
 
 " And you received no tidings of me there," 
 said Zarah. " No — for there is a certain mystery 
 in all my proceedings ; and I choose not to gratify 
 the curiosity of landladies or domestics by afford- 
 ing them a clue to my movements in a new place 
 after I have quitted an old one. In respect to the 
 delay in writing to ycu, it has been occasioned by 
 my inability to find a particular person until with- 
 in the hour that is now passing; and this difficulty 
 I had not foreseen when I gave you that promise. 
 The person to whom I am alluding, will be at my 
 lodgings at half-past eight o'clock : we shall havu 
 time to reach them before he arrives — or at least I 
 hope so; and then, as in the case of myself and 
 Luigi, you shall become an unseen witness of the 
 interview which takes place between us." 
 
 "And who is this person, Zarah?" I inquired, 
 more than ever wondering at the mystery that she 
 maintained, and marvelling to what object all 
 these proceedings could possibly tend. 
 
 " My dear Miss Percy," she said, without 
 exactly answering the question, "you are about to 
 learn the principal secret of my life. That secret; 
 has placed me iu a position which now compels 
 me to regard the result of the expected interview 
 as the decic-ion of my fate. If it be for weal — ac- 
 cording as I measure the standard of my own hap- 
 piness— you may perhaps think fit to congratulate 
 me : but if it be for woe, I am confident that you 
 will afford me your sympathy." 
 
 " In those alternatives, my conduct either way 
 will prove as you have anticipated. But tell me, 
 Zarab," I said, " who is this person that you are 
 about to meet and whom you have experienced 
 such difliculty in finding?" 
 
 "You are courageous, Miss Percy," she an- 
 swered; "and I believe — I hope— you know me 
 well enough to be confident that I would sooner 
 sacrifice my life to render you a service than 
 accept the most brilliant rewards to do you an in- 
 jury. Yes, I will tell you who the person is that . 
 I am about to meet, it is not fair that you 
 should be taken by surprise, or that you should 
 even proceed any further without knowing in 
 whose vicinage you will remain as an unseen wit* 
 ness. It is Captain St. Clair." 
 
 I could hardly repress an ejaculation of mingled 
 astonishment and annoyance at this announce-, 
 meut : but the next moment it struck me that 
 Zarah must have somtj very struug motives for
 
 264 
 
 EILEN PEECY; OE, THE MEIIOIUS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 rendering me the witness of an interview between 
 herself and that individual. I had the fullest 
 confidence in the fidelity of her attacbineut to- 
 \T8rds me; and therefore I resolved to proceed. 
 Besides, it occurred to me that I should most 
 assuredly learn fresh secrets relative to St. Clair, 
 end that the more I knew of his private life the 
 more completely he would be in my power, and 
 the greater the number of offensive and defensive 
 weapons I should be getting into my own hand. 
 Finally, I was very curious to penetrate all these 
 mysteries in which Zarah was playing so singular 
 a part. 
 
 " You will come with me ?" she said, after 
 having allowed a few minutes to elapse for my 
 meditation. 
 
 " Yes," I responded : " I will pursue this ad- 
 venture to the end." 
 
 There was now another interval of silence — 
 during which, as I contemplated Zarah by the 
 blaze of light shed from the shops in the West 
 End streets through which we were passing, I 
 perceived that she was very handsomely dressed. 
 Indeed she was fashionably apparelled — but in 
 a style strictly consistent with good taste, there 
 being nothing gaudy nor outrageous in her 
 toilet. She had evidently addressed herself to 
 some first-rate milliner, to whose discretion and 
 judgment she had completely abandoned herself in 
 respect to her raiment. She looked exceedingly 
 handsome; and the flush of excitement upon her 
 cheeks glowed through the dusky tint of her com- 
 plexion. Her long black hair flowed from beneath 
 an elegant Parisian bonnet; and her large eyes 
 shone with a stronger lustre than was even their 
 wont. I saw in the expression of her features that 
 there was a firm decision to enact a particular 
 part at the expected interview, and that she hoped 
 likewise to work it out to a successful issue. 
 
 I was still wondering what purpose Zarah could 
 possibly have in view, when the cab stopped in 
 front of a house situated in a good street at the 
 West End of the town. A cabriolet, with its 
 lighted lamps, which had already stopped there, 
 had to draw on a little to make way for our own 
 humbler vehicle; and Zarah hastily said, "St. 
 Clair has arrived !" 
 
 " Then your project of rendering me an unseen 
 listener," I said, " has failed ?" 
 
 "Not so," replied Zarah: "the arrangement 
 continues as before." 
 
 We alighted : she rewarded the cabman with a 
 liberality which elicited his warmest thanks; and 
 the front door was opened by a very neatly attired 
 maid servant. Zarah inquired if a gentleman were 
 waiting in the front drawing-room ? and the maid 
 replied in the aflirmative. My gipsy-friend then 
 led me up a handsome staircase to the first floor, 
 where she gently opened a door. I entered a room 
 which was involved in semi-obscurity ; but there 
 was sufficient light from the windows to show me 
 that it was a handsomely furnished sitting apart- 
 ment, having the air of a back drawing-room. 
 Zarah closed the door upon me as noiselessly as 
 she had opened it ; and I speedily discovered that 
 there was a large pair of folding-doors communi- 
 cating with the front apartment. My gipsy- 
 friend evidently did not intend to lose any time, 
 nor expose me to the chance of discovery in my 
 hiding-placo, by ascending to her own chamber to 
 
 make any change in her apparel ; for she proceeded 
 at once into the front drawing-rootn by means of a 
 door communicating therewith from the landing. 
 
 " 1 am here according to promise, my dear 
 Zarah," said St. Clair, in a listU'Ss iadift'erent 
 manner, as if he were addressing himsc4f to some 
 menial towards whom he might adopt a tone of a 
 certain insolent familiarity. " And now perhaps 
 you will have the kindness to tell me what all this 
 means — why for the last six or seven months you 
 have disappeared as it were from the world- 
 why I now find you pranked out in this elegant 
 style— and why you are the tenant of handsome 
 apartments,— 3/0K who at one time would have 
 been contented with a ricketty old caravan or a 
 tumble-down cottage." 
 
 " Have the kindness to be seated. Captain St. 
 Clair," said Zarah, in a calm voice, which showed 
 the most perfect confidence in herself, and which 
 seemed to imply a quiet disdain to take any 
 notice of the impertinent flippancy of his manner 
 and observations. 
 
 At the same time that she thus spoke, she ad- 
 vanced towards the folding-doors to draw forward 
 for her own use a chair which stood against them : 
 and this action, which could have nothing signiti. 
 cant in it for St. Clair, nevertheless had a certain 
 purpose which at once developed itself to me ; for 
 by the removal of the chair one of the leaves of 
 the folding-doors opened to the extent of about an 
 inch, thus enabling me to listen with all the 
 greater facility to whatsoever conversation might 
 take place. 
 
 " You certainly look remarkably well, Zarah," 
 continued St. Clair, " in that fashionable toilet of 
 your's : but permit a friend to observe that such 
 an apparel, and such a mode of life as this which 
 you seem to be leading, are rather inconsistent 
 with the want of those graces of manner — those 
 mental accomplishments, which constitute true 
 gentility." 
 
 "And do you find, Captain St. Clair," asked 
 Zarah, in a really most lady-like tone, " that I am 
 so completely deficient in these respects ?" 
 
 " On my soul, Zarah, I can't make you out ?" 
 ejaculated St. Clair. " You do not seem to be the 
 same Zarah that I used to know. If I had been 
 drinking I should think that my eyes were de- 
 ceiving me : but being in possession of m v sober 
 senses, I confess that I am astonished. Yes — 
 truly, the more I look at you, the more do you 
 seem altered. Why, what on earth does it all 
 mean ? That gesture of your's is far from inele- 
 gant that posture becomes you and as I 
 
 am a living man ! you seem as if you had never 
 worn anything else but pink bonnets from Paris 
 and silk dresses made up by the Court milliner. 
 What the deuce does it all mean, Zarah ?" 
 
 " It means. Captain St. Clair," she answered, 
 " that I have studied to work this improvement in 
 myself. You remember that some six or seven 
 months back you made me a present of a bank- 
 note " 
 
 " For five hundred pounds," added St. Clair 
 carelessly. "But what of that? I grant you 
 that with a portion of it you might purchase the 
 elegant toilet which you wear, and that it would 
 for a long time enable you to li^e in such apart- 
 ments as these. But you canaot buy refinement 
 of manner with gold ; and though you may have
 
 JULIET NOroiAN. 
 
 a piano, for instauce, stuck up in that recess, I 
 Vfiii defy you to touch a note of it tunefully !" 
 
 Without answering a syllable, Zarah rose from 
 her seat, proceeded to the piano, placed herself 
 there, and commenced the most difficult piece of 
 music of which she had rendered herself the mis- 
 tress. At first I could not prevent myself from 
 trembling — for much I feared lest she should be 
 nervous and thus fail of achieving the success at 
 which she aimeJ in this department of her 
 studies. But my apprehension soon wore oflf, as 1 
 found that she progressed with the most perfect 
 accuracy : her execution was characterized by taste 
 and skill; and not a false note jarred upon the 
 ear. I could even discern that to the very flow of 
 harmony which she evoked from the instrument, 
 she imparted as it were some of the enthusiasm 
 that was in her own soul ; and thus she gave 
 greater effect to the charm of the music itself. 1 
 longed to peep forth to snatch a glimpse of St. 
 No. 3i. — Ellen Peecy. 
 
 Clair's countenance, so as to ascertain what he 
 thought of this demonstration of Zarah's accom- 
 plishment: but I dared not risk aught that should 
 tend to the discovery of my presence there. I 
 may here observe that I always experienced a cold 
 creeping horror, when finding myself in the 
 neighbourhood of that man, or when brought in 
 contact with him:— at least such had been my 
 feeling ever since I had begun to suspect that he 
 had been guilty of crimes the bare idea of which was 
 only too well calculated to send a shudder along 
 all my nerves and a glacial chill sweeping through 
 the very blood itself. But now, for the time- 
 being, this disagreeable sensation was absorbed in 
 the charm of Zarah's music, and in the glow of 
 pleasure which I experienced at her success. 
 
 "Oq my soul !" exclaimed St. Clair, as the last 
 sounds of the harmony died away vibratingly 
 through the room, " you astonish me, Zarah !"— 
 and yet methought there was a cartaiu slight
 
 266 
 
 ELLBIf PBECT; OB, THE MBMOIRS OP AN A0TEB83 
 
 under-current of supercilious scorn and contempt 
 in bis accents. "But, after all, one may have a 
 natural taste for music; and iu that case a fe* 
 guineas bestowed upon a skilful teacher will lead 
 to such a result as that of which you have just 
 given me a sp-cimen. Have you ever heard of 
 such a thing' as cramming young men to pass their 
 examinations at the universities or public schools ? 
 There is such a system, I can assure you; an.l I 
 now begin to think that it can as readily be applied 
 to the art of music as to Latin, Greek, or mathe- 
 matics." 
 
 "There are a number of music-books," re- 
 sponded ZArah, in that same quiet tone in which 
 fhe had from the first been speaking : '"' and if it 
 should suit TOUT fancy to indicate any particular 
 piece " 
 
 "' I have really a very great mind to put you to 
 the test, Zarah," interrupted St. Clair; "for this 
 scene is infinitely amusing; and though I cannot 
 for my life understand the aim of it, yet I am 
 ■willing enough to prolong it, as I have nothing 
 better to do for an Lour or so." 
 
 St. Clair rose from bis seat; and now I did 
 Tonture to take a peep from my hiding-place. I 
 saw that he bad approached the pile of music- 
 books which Zarah had indicated: and he had 
 taken one up in his hand. He was elegantly 
 dressed ia evening costume. His countenance, 
 usually pale, had the slightest ll.u3h upon the 
 cheeks — either from the effect of wine (despite 
 his previous disavowal of having been drinking) 
 or else from the excitement of the present scene : 
 but his forehead retained all that alabaster polish 
 which seemed to render it the throne of a high 
 
 order of intellect though heavens ! how at 
 
 times perverted ! He no longer wore a mous- 
 tache ; and its absence fully revealed that npper 
 lip with its haughty expression. His light bro^vn 
 hair was arranged in rich clustering curls; and 
 his costume set off the symmetry of his form to 
 the fullest advantage. It was a pity to gaze upon 
 such a perfect specimen of masculine beauty, and 
 be compelled to recoil in horror from the blackness 
 of the heart which that fair mask concealed. It 
 was as if a traveller throug'a the fervid regions of 
 Hindostan, came within view of a temple of most 
 exquisite architecture, all the details being iu 
 perfect harmony, and all the external beauty of 
 the edifice calculated to convey the most agreeable 
 impression to the mind, were it not for the know- 
 ledge that the temple did but enshrine an idol of 
 the most repulsive form and revolting hideous 
 ness. 
 
 But let me return to the thread of my story. 
 St. Clair, as I have said, took up one of the music- 
 books; and having for a few moments turned over 
 the leaves, he selected a piece, exclaiming, " !N"ow 
 Zarab, if there be anything more than a mere 
 parrot like attainment in the display you have 
 just made, you will try your hand at this. My 
 own taste in music is not altogether slight ; and 
 therefore I warn you against making an exhibi- 
 tion that may evoke peals of laughter from my 
 lips." 
 
 Zarah said nothing : bat she resumed her seat 
 at the piano; and at the very first notes I could 
 easily perceive that she was completely self- 
 p-ssessed, I'ull of cjulideuce, and having all her 
 presence of mind about her. Her success was 
 
 therefore as great as in the former instance ; and 
 when she had finished, St. Clair, throwing himself 
 back aijain into his sea?, said, " Well, my dear 
 Zarah, this is uncommonly to your credit : but I 
 am as much as ever at a lass to understand your 
 object and purpose in seeking such an accomplish- 
 ment." 
 
 '•'Every soul may have its ambition," was 
 Zarah's calm response, " You aspire to shine in 
 the senate ; and it is fortunate for you that you 
 were born a gentleman. By means of birth and 
 education you found two-thirds of the difliculties 
 already surmounted when you resolved to climb 
 the ladder. With me it is diflferent. In the 
 working out of my own ambition, I had to com- 
 mence from the very beginning— to overcome the 
 disadvantages of obscure birth and an almost 
 utteilj neglected education. Thus, iu aspiring to 
 make myself a laly " 
 
 " A lady ?" echoed St. Clair : and nothing 
 could exceed the scornfulncss of the accents in 
 which he spoke, — a scornfulness which was pro- 
 longed with the most withering effect in the laugh 
 that rolled forth in a mocking harmony from his 
 lips. 
 
 I thought that Zirah would now assuredly givo 
 vent to an outburst of fury and indignation : for 
 after all the paius she had taken, and the arduous 
 labours she had endured to improve her mind and 
 her manners, the taunt implied by St. Clair's con- 
 duct was most insuffc^rably cruel. But I was 
 mistaken. It was in the same placid patient 
 tone as before that she said, " You may laugh. 
 Captain St. Chir : but the very loftiness of your 
 own ambition should render you more generoosia 
 viewing my far more puny and insignificant one." 
 
 '•'Do you know, Zarah," he responded, "that 
 this scene is most irresistibly amusing ? But if you 
 mean me to take it seriously, be it so. In that 
 case I must consider myself as the audience at a 
 drair.a, and I must play the part of critic. In 
 the exercise of these functions, therefore, suffer 
 me to observe that though you exhibit a certain 
 tastefulness of toilet, thanks to your milliner !— a 
 certain proficiency in music, thanks to some skilful 
 professor !— a certain genteel choice of language 
 and a certain smoothness of manner, thanks to 
 your quick intelligence which has rendered you 
 imitatively expert ! — yet all these things do not 
 constitute the Jady. We will put the matter of 
 birth cut of the question — because, as society ia 
 constituted, if a gentleman marries his cook- 
 wench, ho makes her a lady, at least in name. 
 Bat to be a real lady, Zarab, in the proper accep- 
 tation of the term, you must have more accota- 
 plishments than that of a mere jingling on the 
 piano. You must write a genteel fluent hand ; 
 whereas, if my recollection serves me, your's pro* 
 duces the impression of having been written by a 
 schoolboy with the point of a skewer ; — and par- 
 don me for adding, your orthography as well as 
 your use of capitals is the most wondrous cali- 
 graphic mosaic- work that ever I had the misfor- 
 tune to behold." 
 
 " Doubtless this long critiqiu of your'?. Cap. 
 tain St. Clair," said Zarah, with a tone that struck 
 me as if she were smiling with arch good-humour, 
 " would read even better than it s 'Uuds orally. 
 Let us see. Have p:itience for a few moments— 
 and I will commit it to paper."
 
 ELIEBT FBBCT; OB, THE MESIOIBS OP AN ACIBESS. 
 
 a87 
 
 " Take your time," observed St. Clair, again 
 witli a certain superciliousness in hia accents, " 1 
 am r.ot the least hurried— and I repeat, the whole 
 Bcono is inGuitcly diverting." 
 
 There was now an interval of silence for a few 
 minutes; and as I again ventured to peep from 
 my Liuing-place, I saw that Zarah was writing — 
 while St. Clair, lounging back in his seat, was con- 
 templating her with the half-careless air of fashion- 
 able indolence. 
 
 "!N"ow see how it reads," said Zarah: and she 
 handed hiui the paper on which she had been 
 writing. 
 
 " Well, I must confess the penmanship defies 
 all criticism," remarked St. Clair : " but let us 
 look at the spelling. I vow and protest that I 
 am more and more astonished ! I really thought, 
 Zarah, that you would have spelt caligraphic with 
 two Vb, and introduced a capital at the beginning 
 of every other word. But the specimen is perfect. 
 However, let that pass : any school-girl decently 
 educated, can write a fair laand. But what say 
 you to the real accomplishments that are required 
 to mtkc the verilablc lady? There is drawing, 
 
 for instance " 
 
 " Ilave the kindness," repporded Zarah, " to 
 glance into that portfolio which lies upon the 
 table" 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated St. Clair ; "if you have been 
 making any attempts in this department, I can 
 guess what they must be. There was in ancient 
 times a painter of so miserable a talent that he 
 was compelled to write ' This is a house,' or ' This 
 is a tree,' beneath his pictures, to enable a be- 
 holder to understand the subjects of them. I am 
 
 afraid, Zarah but Ah ! you don't mean to tell 
 
 mo that you drew this landscape in pencil or this 
 head in crayons ?" 
 
 My gipsy-friend did not immediately answer 
 the questions ; and as I again ventured to peep 
 fortii, I saw that she was bending over the writing 
 materials which she had before her. Then she 
 passed a sheet of paper across the table to St. 
 Ciair,— saying, "Do you recognise this little hastily 
 sketched portrait ? It is a mere pea and ink out- 
 line " 
 
 " Why, it is myself!" he exclaimed. "But are 
 you sure you have not flattered me to some little 
 extent ? I really did not fancy that I was quite 
 BO good-looking as this profile represents me. 
 However, I can no longer doubt that you are the 
 parent of the drawings in this portfolio. Again I 
 ask, Zarah, what on earth does it all mean ? Will 
 you have me understand that beneath the gloss of 
 these superficial accomplishments you possess any 
 more substantial attainments ?" 
 
 " dust have the goodness to glance your eye 
 over the books on those shelves," responded Zarah; 
 " and you will see what for some months past has 
 been amongst the subjects of my studies." 
 
 St. Clair rose from his seat; and again ven- 
 turing to peep forth, I beheld him approach an 
 elegant bookcase which was immediately behind 
 the chair that he had just left. At that moment, 
 as his back was turned towards us, Zarah — who 
 caught a glimpse of my countenance— darted a 
 rapid glance at me,— a glance that was full of 
 triumph, and which seemed to prognosticate the 
 conipletest success in respect to the ulterior aim, 
 whatever it were, which she had in view. 
 
 "The histories of England, France, RomOj 
 and Greece," said St. Clair, musing audibly, as he 
 looked slowly along the shelves : " works on Natural 
 History, Geography — Gazetteers— Science, Useful 
 Information, the British Poets— a select assort- 
 ment of Novels — Travels, Voyages, Biographies — 
 French Grammars and Elementary Books ! Why, 
 Zarah," he suddenly exclaimed, " if you have 
 crammed your head with all these things, you may 
 with the greatest assurance set up as a blue- 
 stocking. I know a host of ladies who pass for 
 being clever, without half the amount of floating 
 literary capital which you seem to possess. And 
 now perhaps you will tell me whether you have 
 added dancing to your other aceomplishments ?" 
 
 "I have," returned Zarah. "But as I perceive 
 that you are more than half in the vein to treat 
 the whole matter with ridicule, it is not my pur- 
 pose to afford a proof of my ability in that art." 
 
 " And yet why not a waltz ?" exclaimed St. 
 Clair, laughing half gaily, half superciliously. 
 " In default of music, I can hum a tune." 
 
 " No," answered Zarah gravely. " After all the 
 proofs I have given you of the results of my 
 studies in other respects, you may take for granted 
 my skill in the art of dancing." 
 
 " Then bo it so," replied St. Clair, as he re- 
 sumed his seat. " And now, my dear Zarah, as I 
 suppose the exhibition-part of the ceremonies is 
 at an end, you will at length come to an explana- 
 tion of the meaning of all this unless indeed I 
 
 can guess ?" 
 
 " Pray afford me the benefit of your conjecture," 
 said my gipsy-friend. 
 
 " I will," rejoined St. Clair, "You know that 
 you are handsome — you possess a fine form — and 
 you are still young enough— for if I mistake not, 
 you are barely five-and-twenty. Your ambition 
 soared above a gipsy life — and you thought you 
 might shine in a certai^ sphere in the metropolis. 
 You have a craving for a luxurious mode of exist- 
 ence — to dress well — to live in handsome apart- 
 ments — and perhaps to ride in your carriis;a. 
 Well, Zarah, all this is laudable enough ; and I 
 for one," St. Clair went on to say, speaking some- 
 what more seriously than hitherto, "shall be well 
 pleased to see you in such a position. I under- 
 stand the means which you purpose to adopt in 
 order to attain it ; and I now comprehend likewise 
 wherefore you desired my presence here this even- 
 ing, and why you have displayed your accomplish- 
 ments, Y'es — I will cheerfully assist you in the 
 matter. I will introduce you to a dozen or so of 
 my fashionable male acquaintances ; and I have 
 no doubt that you will speedily receive overtures 
 on very handsome terms— so that in the course of 
 a few weeks I shall behold you the mistress of 
 some dashing Baronet or some infatuated old 
 Marquis." 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," said Zarah, in a voice 
 which quivered somewhat — and I felt assured it 
 was with suppressed indignation, " if it were not 
 for all that has aforetime taken place between you 
 and me,. I should not have listened with even 
 ordinary patience to the remarks you have been 
 addressing to me. But under circumstances I 
 forgive you. No !— once for all learn that I have 
 not devoted myself day and night for upwards of 
 six long months to the task of selt'-i'iiproveraont, 
 for any purpose so vile as that which you have
 
 208 
 
 ifellETT PERCY; OB, TRE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 conjectured. I would sooner return to the tat- 
 tered garments of a gipsy than wear this raiment 
 for meretricious objects. If I have been frail, it 
 was with you alone ! As there is a heaven above 
 us I have at least proved faithful to that weakness 
 which I demonstrated towards you ! Now do you 
 begin to comprehend the aim which I had in 
 view ?" 
 
 "After all you have just said," replied St, Clair, 
 again with a tincture of superciliousness in his 
 accents, " the only conjecture left for me is that 
 you seek to obtain a position by means of mar- 
 riage. In this respect I may perhaps also be 
 enabled to assist you somewhat " 
 
 " That is the very purpose," interrupted Zarah, 
 " for which I requested vou to call upon me this 
 evening! Yes— it is you, and you only, who can 
 forward my views!" 
 
 " Perhaps," said St. Clair, " you have already 
 some one in your eye as your future husband. 
 And yet I am at a loss to understand " 
 
 " Yes — I have some one in my eye, as you ex- 
 press it," rejoined Zarah. 
 
 "And therefore," continued St. Clair, "as I 
 doubtless know him, you think that " 
 
 "No one knows him better tbau yourself!" in- 
 terjected Zarah. 
 
 " Ah, by heaven ! you are a long time coming 
 to the point," ejaculated St. Clair : " and were it 
 not too supremely ridiculous, I should positively 
 fancy But no!" and he laughed aloud. 
 
 "The suspicion which has entered into your 
 mind," said Zarah, quietly yet firmly, " is the cor- 
 rect one. It is yov.. Captain St. Clair, who will 
 give me the position which I crave and for which 
 I have been preparing myself!" 
 
 "Zarah, you are mad!" ejaculated St. Clair, 
 starting up suddenly from his seat. 
 
 "I am not mad : I never was more completely 
 possessed of my reason tl^n at this moment. I 
 hope. Captain St. Clair, that we shall have no scene 
 of violence " 
 
 "Violence?— it is ridiculous!" exclaimed St. 
 Clair. "You cannot be serious, Zarah — you are 
 only putting me to some test which I cannot pre- 
 cisely understand. If you want money wherewith 
 
 to carry on your new game, you shall have it 
 
 I will be liberal to you. But " 
 
 " In a pecuniary sense I will be indebted to 
 you no longer !" interrupted Zarah resolutely. 
 " When I asked you to give me a considerable 
 sum of money some six or seven months back, it 
 was my intention to qualify myself to become 
 your wife " 
 
 " Jly wife !" cried St. Clair contemptuously. 
 " You are raving, Zarah !" 
 
 " I beseech you to listen to me," she said, in a 
 tone full of calm confidence. " Yes — it was to 
 qualify myself to become your wife ! Ignorant 
 and ill-mannered as I was— utterly unacquainted 
 with all but the scantiest rudiments of education 
 —a stranger to the amenities and courtesies of 
 life — I dared not do you so great an injury as to 
 insist that you should conduct mo to the altar. 
 Therefore I resolved to wait awhile, and labour 
 most assiduously to round off the asperities which 
 low birth and defective education had left upon 
 my character, my demeanour, and bearing. For 
 this purpose I had no scruple in having recourse 
 to your purse. Were you already married, and if 
 
 you had children, you would not hesitate to expend 
 hundreds of pounds on the education of any one 
 of them. I therefore considered that you ought 
 not to begrudge a certain sum to qualify me for 
 becoming your wife." 
 
 " As for the money which I gave you, I care 
 nothing about it," replied Edwin St. Clair; "and 
 if at the time you had demanded twice as much, 
 it would have been your's. But whether I am 
 disposed to gratify this insane idea which you 
 have formed, is altogether another thing." 
 
 "You will gratify it, Edwin !" said Zarah calmly: 
 and this was the first time during the present in- 
 terview that she had addressed him by his Chris- 
 tian name. 
 
 " By heaven, I will perish sooner !" he vehe- 
 mently exclaimed. 
 
 " Now understand me well, Edwin!" resumed 
 Zarah. " I have loved you devotedly — I still love 
 you, notwithstanding that I know what you are. 
 But beware how you convert all this love into 
 hatred!" 
 
 " What ! you dare threaten me ?" cried St. 
 Clair. " It is for me to bid you bo cautious^— or 
 I will trample you under foot as I would a 
 worm !" 
 
 "You can do me but little injury," rejoined 
 Zarah. "Though certain things have come to my 
 knowledge, yet I myself was not an accomplice in 
 
 them " 
 
 " And you would turn round upon me ?" ex- 
 claimed St. Clair. " Is this your boasted love ? — 
 is this your affection ?" 
 
 " You know the human heart too well, Edwin," 
 answered Zarah, " not to be fully aware that in 
 all its strongest feelings and passions extremes 
 Eieet. The most fervid love may turn into the 
 most violent hatred ; and the woman who at one 
 moment is ready to sacrifice her life for the object 
 of her affection, may the next instant be goaded 
 by her revenge to seek the life of him towards 
 whom her love has changed into aversion !" 
 
 "You are teaching how we stand with regard 
 to each other," responded St. Clair, in the low 
 concentrated tone of bitterest rage. "Bat what 
 if I were to defy you, Zarah ? — what if I were to 
 bid you do your worst ?" 
 
 " As there is a heaven above us," she answered, 
 with a certain solemnity, and with a deep impres- 
 I siveness of voice, " I would do it I" 
 \ " And send your grandmother to the scaffold," 
 ' rejoined St. Clair, " along with others whom your 
 infatuated madness and cruel vindictiveness would 
 I thus involve in a common ruin !" 
 I He spoke these words in a low hollow voice— 
 ! 60 low indeed that I could only just catch the 
 words themselves ; and though I dared not peep 
 forth at this juncture, yet I could easily picture 
 to myself that his countenance was ghastly pale 
 and that his whole form trembled visibly. 
 I "There is not the slightest doubt relative to 
 my present intentions," said Zarah. '"' I am like 
 ' a desperate person who has cast her whole fate 
 I upon the hazard of a die. You shall espouse me 
 I — and I will make you a loving wife : or you shall 
 I reject me— and even within the hour that is pass- 
 ing will I be signally avenged. To you, Edwin, 
 I Was my first and only love given. You found me 
 a wild gipsy hoyden of the woods : you avowed 
 j that you loved me— you taught me to know what
 
 ELLEN PfiHCT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 269 
 
 love is ; and if for such instruction on your part 
 marriage is the penalty, you must pay it ! Though 
 but tlio poor and hurable gipsy, I had my own 
 ideas of virgin pride and dignity ; and you 
 brought me down from that proud pedestal. In 
 a word, Edwin, you were my seducer — and you 
 shall become my husband !" 
 
 "Zarah!" replied St. Clair, "you know not 
 what you ask of me! If you wore better ac- 
 quainted with the world, you would laugh at your 
 own self for that which you would then compre- 
 hend to be the most egregious folly. Suppose for 
 an instant that I were to yield and make you my 
 wife : I should become the object of scorn and 
 contempt on the part of all my friends and ac- 
 quaintances : — and would you like to know that 
 your husband was thus the laughing-stock of 
 everybody ?" 
 
 " Did ycu not ere now say," inquired Zarah, 
 " that a gentleman may marry his cook-maid, 
 and he thereby renders her a lady. The gentle- 
 man does not descend to the level of her whom he 
 espouses : he raises her up to become the sharer 
 of his own position." 
 
 " By heavens, Zarah, you will drive me mad !" 
 exclaimed St. Clair, now losing all control over his 
 temper. " Your arguments are monstrous ! your 
 reasonings are absurd ! You cannot be so insane 
 as to fancy that I shall conduct a low-born gipsy 
 to the altar ! Why, my good girl, I have seen you 
 without shoes — in ra^s " 
 
 "Ah !" ejaculated Zarah, now no longer able to 
 control her own indignant feelings ; " you have 
 done well to remind me of all this ! It was when 
 I was with naked feet and clothed in rags, some 
 five years ago, that you, Edwin St. Clair, ad- 
 dressed me in the language of love ! — you thought 
 me worthy of becoming your toy — your mistress ! 
 — and yoii vowed that you would never forget the 
 poor gipsy Zarah ! Now behold me clothed in 
 silk— bedecked with lace and with jewellery; and 
 if raiment have anything to do with the heart's 
 affections or with the duty of a man towards a 
 woman, then do I fearlessly proclaim that if in my 
 tatters, my semi-nudity, my coarseness of manner, 
 and my mental ignorance, I were worthy of be- 
 coming your mistress— MOW, in the gentility of my 
 toilet, in the refinements which I have acquired, 
 and in the enlightenment of my mind, I am 
 worthy of becoming your wife !" 
 
 "But how would you meet the world's ridi- 
 cule ?" demanded St. Clair: " or rather let me ask 
 how you would enable me to meet it ?" 
 
 " For shame, Edwin !" exclaimed Zarah, in a 
 tone of indignant reproach : " how can you ap- 
 peal to a woman to teach you your duties as a 
 man ? The very moment that any supercilious 
 gaze is fixed upon me, or any mocking laugh falls 
 upon your ear, have you not an arm to strike the 
 insolent one down ? — or cannot that hand of yours 
 pull the pistol's trigger in a sterner encounter 
 still ? It is not Edwin St. Clair who would be at 
 ft loss for the means to avenge any slight or insult 
 that might be offered to the woman whom he 
 chose to make his wife !" 
 
 " All this would be very well, Zarab," responded 
 St. Clair sarcastically, " if we were living in thosa 
 times of chivalry when I might buckle on my 
 armour to defend the fair fame of my ladyo-wife. 
 But unfortunately for your cause the days of 
 
 chivalry are gone; and I am no Don Q;u\oto to 
 do deeds of knight-errantry in vindicalion of a 
 Zarah the gipsy who would fain place herself in 
 the position of a Dulcinea del Toboso." 
 
 "Even if I had been inclined to waver or to 
 yield in my original resolution," answered Zarab, 
 " this sarcastic language of your'a would for very 
 spite's sake strengthen me in my determination. 
 Learn therefore, Edwin St. Clair, that my resolve 
 is fixed ! Make me your wife, and I will do my 
 duty towards you: but refuse, and the whole fabric 
 of your fortune, your brilliant position, and your 
 fame shall crumble around you, overvvhelnaiuj^ you 
 with its ruins— and I the authoress of this whole- 
 sale desolation !" 
 
 There was a pause of nearly a minute ; and 
 then I heard St. Clair ask in a low hoarse voice, 
 " But is It possible, Zurah, that knowing, as you 
 fancy, enough to work me all this tremendous 
 mischief, — knowing, in short, what I am" — and 
 here his accents grew even more concentrated in 
 the intenseness of the feeling which they ex- 
 pressed, — "is it possible I ask that with all this 
 knowledge of my antecedents you would venture 
 to become my wife, even if I myself were willing ?" 
 
 " It is possible !" replied Zarah : "nay, more— 
 of all these things have 1 thought, and I am re- 
 solved to dare and venture whatsoever——" 
 
 "Pause! reflect!" interrupted St. Clair: 
 " speak not hurriedly ! You know me well — you 
 know me to be a man who will hesitate at nothing 
 to clear his path of obstacles, or to fight his way 
 desperately amidst the perils which beset him. 
 Beware therefore how you persevere in this mad 
 design of your's — how you insist upon forcing 
 yourself upon me as a wife !" 
 
 " The warning is unnecessarv," responded 
 Zarah, again speaking with calmness ; " and every 
 additional word you use to divert me from my 
 purpose, is ao much waste of breath. Once for 
 all " 
 
 "Then by heaven !" cried St. Clair, now again 
 giving way to his fury, " you may do your worst ! 
 What ! render myself ridiculous before all the 
 world— cut myself out of society — expose myself 
 to the laugh of scorn and contempt ! No ! sooner 
 would I dare all that you can do! — sooner would 
 I speed to the nearest bridge and fling myself 
 thence as a suicide !" 
 
 "1 am not to be deterred by any such threats 
 as these," answered Zarah. " I have no fear that 
 Edwin St. Clair will take any steps so desperate. 
 His egotism and his selfishness are too great to 
 render him a subject for the catalogue of suicides. 
 But this argument has lasted long enough " 
 
 " Yes— too long !" ejaculated St. Clair, fiercely. 
 " Farewell, Zarah — and do your worst !" 
 
 Thus speaking, he rushed to the door— opened 
 it — and issued from the apartment. Zarah made 
 no movement and said not a word to detain him. 
 He closed the door violently ; and I half emerged 
 from my hiding-place, saying, " You have failed, 
 Zarah — you have failed!. Now what will you 
 do ?" 
 
 " I have won — I have conquered !" she quickly 
 responded, her countenance lighting up with the 
 glow of enthusiastic triumph. " Oh, I know that 
 man well ! He will return iu a few moments — 
 he is only doing this to try me. If I had rushed 
 after him and sought to detain him, it would have
 
 270 
 
 EixEir pbect; ob, the memoies op ak acteebs. 
 
 appeared as if I were having recourse to entreaty, 
 ond that therefore I was weak in mj own purpose 
 and incapable of carrying out the threats which I 
 proclaimed. But he also knows me : and he is 
 
 aivare that when I am determined Hush ! he 
 
 returns, Miss Percy ! Retreat — retreat !" 
 
 And it was as Zarah had said: for scarcely had 
 I time to draw back into my hiding-place and pull 
 the door rgar again, when the opposite door opened 
 from the landing, and St. Clair reappeared. 
 
 " I do not choose to part from you in anger, 
 Zarah," he said, advancing towards her ; " and 
 naoieover it struck me as I was hastening down 
 the stairs, that there is a way of settling this 
 natter to your satisfaction. You have qualified 
 yourself to occupy a new position in the world : — 
 what if I v.-ere to settle upon you a handsome in- 
 come— say a thousand a year would you not 
 
 be content ?" 
 
 "If you were to lay all your fortune at my 
 feet," replied Zarah, " without offering me your 
 hand at the same time, I should repudiate it. My 
 miud is thoroughly made up. And now one word 
 more — and only one word ! To-morrow morning, 
 at eleven o'clock, I expect you to ba here, with a 
 special license, and with a minister to join our 
 hands in marriage. If you fail me— and if when 
 the hour of noon is proclaimed by the time-piece 
 on that mantel, you are still absent — I shall go 
 straight hence to a magistrate ; and without pity 
 or remorse " 
 
 "Enough, Zarah!" said St. Clair in a voice 
 which seemed to be of a dying tone : " it shall be 
 so ! To-morrow at eleven o'clock I will be here, 
 prepared to make you my wife." 
 
 Having thus spoken, St. Clair quitted the room ; 
 and in a few moments the front door of the house 
 was heard to close. This noise was followed almost 
 immediately by the sounds of his cabriolet dashing 
 along the street ; and then I camo forth from my 
 hiding-place. 
 
 " I told you that I should conquer— and I have 
 succeeded !" exclaimed Zarah, her countenance 
 radiant with triumph. "N"ow, my dear Miss 
 Percy, you have learned the secret of my life. I 
 became that man's victim : I erred— I fell— and as 
 he was the author of my ruin, so now shall he lift 
 me up as high as he has plunged me down low !" 
 
 " But, Zarah," I asked, almost shuddering as I 
 thought of her alliance with such a fearful being 
 as I considered that St. Clair was, — " do you in- 
 deed love him ?" 
 
 "Yes, I love him, Miss Percy, in spite of all his 
 wickedness — in spite of all his crimes 1" and it was 
 with a strange hardihood, even bordering upon 
 fierceness, that she made this avowal. " I have read 
 enough to know that love is an eccentric passion 
 and assumes strange phases. Mine is singular ; 
 and to you its aspect may even bo revolting. Still 
 it exists not the less within me. If he should 
 learn to love me— as he once told me that he did 
 — I shall continue to love him, and I will devote 
 myself heart and soul to his welfare. But if he 
 should scorn the wife who has forced herself upon 
 him, and treat me With contumely and neglect — 
 then will my love become hatred: but I shall be 
 suSciently avenged in the knowledge that I have 
 forced him to espouse me. And now you compre- 
 hend, Miss Percy, all that has been mysterious in 
 my past conduct. "VVhcn you were made a pri- 
 
 soner at ray grandmother's cottage, it was then 
 through no feeling of friendship that I accom- 
 plished your release : it was because I loved St. 
 Clair, and was jealous ! If I furnished you with 
 the means of striking terror into his soul by speak- 
 ing of the white rose, it was because I was anxi- 
 ous to provide you with a weapon of defence that 
 might thereafter serve you in any emergency 
 brought about by his machinations. The same 
 motive led me to release you from the farm-house ; 
 and then, when I saw how perseveringly St. Clair 
 was following up his insane passion for you, it 
 struck me that there was something more than 
 mere beauty which so dazzled him. I reflected 
 within myself that if I were well-mannered and 
 accomplished, I should perhaps never have lost his 
 love, and he would not have dared to look upon 
 me as the rejected mistress whose agency he could 
 employ in his machinations to ensnare another. 
 It was then therefore that I resolved to enter upon 
 a new phase of my existence. I craved your suc- 
 cour — your advice — your counsel; — and I craved 
 not in vain. I then learnt to regard you as a 
 friend and to love you. Pinally I was resolved to 
 have no secrets from you; and therefore are you 
 here this evening. Best assured that St. Clair 
 will adhere to his pledge : he will come to-morrov 
 to espouse me ; and whatever his subsequent con- 
 duct may be, I shall at all events watch over your 
 interests and zealously guard you against the 
 effects of any future intrigues on his part." 
 
 I listened with the deepest attention to all that 
 Zarah thus said ; and after some few minutes' 
 meditation, I observed in a warning tone, "Be- 
 ware of this man. He has promised you a certaia 
 thing : but may he not have given the pledge in 
 order the more completely to throw you off your 
 guard, and devise some project during the lew 
 hours between this moment and eleven in the fore- 
 noon to-morrow — a project which may terribly 
 avenge himself for all that you have said and 
 purposed this evening ?" 
 
 " Be not afraid on my account, my dear Miss 
 Percy," said Zarah, with a tone and look of com- 
 pletest confidence. " I myself entertain no appre- 
 hension. Yet sincerely do I thank you for all 
 the kind interest you are displaying on my be< 
 half." 
 
 After a little more conversation I took leave of 
 Zirah ; and entering a cab, ordered the driver to 
 conduct me to Hunter Street. During the ride I 
 reviewed everything which bad taken place ; and 
 while on the one hand I was astonished at the 
 energy, the perseverance, and the firmness which 
 had characterized Zarah's entire conduct, from the 
 very first day she commenced her studies until the 
 final moment when she extorted an assent from 
 St. Clair's lips— yet on the other hand I continued 
 to entertain the apprehension that St. Clair would 
 not yield irrevocably without at least one desperate 
 effort to emancipate himself from such thraldom. 
 Indeed, I knew him too well to suppose that he 
 would resign himself to such a destiny and accept 
 such a fate, without a struggle to avoid it. In 
 the first instance he had seduced Zarah from the 
 path of virtue: he had then thrown her off; 
 and his own estimate of the mere passing amour 
 might be judged from the fact that he had sought 
 to avail himself of the services of that very cast- 
 off mistress to keep guard, jointly with her grau !-
 
 BIiLEN PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIBS OE AN ACTEESS. 
 
 H71 
 
 mother, upon mjself, on the two occasions which 
 the rtader will reiuember so well — namely, at the 
 cottage between Eiroiiughaui and Embledon, and 
 at the farm-house in the vicinage of Highbury. 
 That he should have thus treated Zarah was a 
 sufficient proof of the indifference or even con- 
 tempt in which he had held alike her heart's best 
 feelings and her own self: — and was it therefore 
 probable that he would now abandon himself to 
 the fate of receiving such a brido without some 
 desperate efl'ort to rid himself of her altogether ? 
 I could not help thinking that there was a little 
 vanity mised up in Zarah's disposition and con- 
 duct. Slie had erideully fancied that the acquire- 
 ment of lady-like manners as well as of mental 
 accomplishments— the tasteful embellishment of 
 her person — tho invocation of the aids of the toilet 
 to set off her beauty— and her self-investment as 
 it were with a gloss of gentility, would combine 
 to reconcile St. Clair to the acceptation of her as 
 his bride. She had no doubt calculated that when 
 yielding to necessity, he would say within him- 
 self, " Well, after all, she will not disgrace me as 
 a wife. I may even perhaps be proud of her !" 
 
 But if all these were really Zarah's hopes, cal- 
 culations, and expectances, I was fully convinced 
 that her wonted keenness, shrewdness, and fore- 
 sight had for once failed her, and that Edwin St. 
 Clair was r,ot the man to succumb so easily. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLVIL 
 
 •WILLIAM lAEDNEK. 
 
 I BEACHED Hunter Street with this apprehension 
 oven more strongly fixed in my mind than when I 
 had first mentioned it to Zarah : and I said to 
 myself, "I wish that I could adopt some plan to 
 guard and protect her for the twelve or thirteen 
 hours which are to elapse until the arrival of the 
 moment when St. Clair is to keep his promise. If 
 she pass tJiis night in safety — and if the hour of 
 eleven in to-morrow's forenoon were to strike 
 and she still at freedom, beyond tho reach of 
 whatsoever toils St. Clair might set to entrap her 
 — Fho would theu bo completely mistress of the 
 situation : she would be the arbitress of his 
 destiny !" 
 
 It was about half-past ten o'clock when I 
 alighted from the cab in Hunter Street j and after 
 having reflected for a few minutes in the drawing- 
 room, I resolved to consult Beda. I accordingly 
 summoned her to my presence ; and I said, 
 " Something has occurred which renders mo appre- 
 hensivo that danger menaces our friend Zarah. 
 She herself will not however admit that she in- 
 curs this peril ; and so great is her confidence on 
 the point, that I could not induco her to adopt 
 any precaution." 
 
 "At whose hands, Miss," inquired Beda, " does 
 Zarah incur this peril ?" 
 
 "At the hands of Captain St. Clair," I re- 
 sponded. " My apprehension is altogether vague 
 and indefinite — I am unable to form the slightest 
 conjecture as to the shape in which the pending 
 treachery may show itself: but I fear that tho 
 night will nut, pass without something serious or 
 even fatal happening to Zarab." 
 
 "What can I do, Miss?" inquired Beda. 
 
 " But ah !" she suddenly ejaculated ; " there is 
 one" — and then a slight blush appeared upon 
 her cheeks, — "one wlio would do anything to 
 oblige yoU; Miss— or myself he would keep 
 watch " 
 
 " To whom do you refer, Beda ?" I asked. 
 
 "To William Lardner, Miss," she rejoined. 
 " He is at this moment down stairs in the servants' 
 room. His ship will clear out of Blaekwall in 
 two or three days : became to bid mo farewell; 
 and he was just on the point of taking his leave 
 when the bell rang to summon me into your pre- 
 sence." 
 
 " This is most fortunate, Beda !" I exclaimed ; 
 " and your idea is an excellent one ! Let AVilliam 
 Lardner come up to mo." 
 
 Beda glided from tho room ; and in a few mo- 
 ments she returned, ushering in the good-looking 
 young sailor, who evinced much pleasure in seeing 
 me again. I quickly gave him the same brief ex- 
 planations which I had already given to Beda; 
 and it was with something more than mere wil- 
 lingness—it was with enthusiastic delight that he 
 offered to serve me in any way that I might point 
 out. I inquired when he must return to his ship ? 
 — and he assured me that if he were on board the 
 East Indiaman by noon on the ensuing day, it 
 would suffice. I accordingly acquainted him with 
 the street and the number of the house in which 
 Zarah dwelt ; and I bade hioa go and keep such 
 watch as circumstances should enable him to 
 maintain. He had no liking for Edwin St. Clair : 
 his honest mind had been shocked by all the 
 transactions relative to the yacht at Eamsgate ; 
 and he had therefore no hesitation in adopting a 
 course which might be inimical to the views, 
 schemes, and interests of his late master. I in- 
 formed him that I should purposely rise very early 
 in the morning, in case ho had anything of import- 
 ance to communicate : and having thus given kim 
 all requisite instructions, I despatched him on his 
 mission. 
 
 My mind now felt more easy ; for I knew that 
 William Lardner was perfectly trustworthy as well 
 as intelligent and courageous; and if nothing 
 should happen, Z%rah need not know that I had 
 taken this precaution — whereas, oa the other 
 hand, if treachery should indeed display itself, 
 that precaution might not prove to be without 
 its uses. Mr. and Mrs. JS^orman and Juliet re- 
 turned home from the theatre shortly after eleven 
 o'clock ; and I theu retired to rest. 
 
 I arose at about six in tho morning ; and 
 Beda, who occupied an ante-chamber, was already 
 dressed. She descended to the front door : she 
 found William Lardner pacing to and fro in the 
 street; and she at once gave him admittance. 
 After exchanging a few words with him, she re- 
 turned to my chamber and told me that some- 
 thing had indeed occurred, as I had foreseen. My 
 toilet was speedily made : and I descended to the 
 dining-room, where William Lardner was refresh- 
 ing himself with the viands and drinkables that 
 had been laid for the previous night's supper, and 
 which had not as yet been cleared away. I will 
 give his narrative as he told it to me : — 
 
 " Immediately ou leaving this house, a littlo 
 before eleven last night, I t^ok a cab and pro- 
 ceeded to the West Lad, I alighted at tho cornet 
 of the street which you mentioned to me, Miss;
 
 272 
 
 ELLEX PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACIRKSS. 
 
 and I walked leisurely to and fro for about half- 
 an-hour. Daring all this time I saw a light burn- 
 ing in tlie iVoDt drawing-room on the first floor; 
 and once or twice I perceived a female figure 
 passing behind the curtains : so that i was tole- 
 rably confident that this was Zarah and that no- 
 thing had as jet happened to her. It was close 
 upon twelve o'clock when a cab drew up at a 
 short distance from the house ; and three persons 
 got out. One was a stout elderly gentleman, 
 dressed in black, and cai-rying a gold-headed cane : 
 the other two were men of some inferior condition 
 — and I did not like their looks. I drew as near 
 as I could without standing the chance of exciting 
 suspicion that I was thus on the watch; and I saw 
 the stout gentleman and the two men proceed to 
 the house in which Zarah dwelt. The gentleman 
 gave a slight rap at the front door; and then I 
 felt all the more conviuced that some mischief was 
 brewing ; for it seemed intended as if this mode of 
 knocking should not startle Zarah nor put her on 
 her guard. The door was presently opened by a 
 female servant : the gentleman and his two fol- 
 lowers at once entered ; and the door was shut. 
 The cab then proceeded slowly a little way along 
 the street— turned round — and drew up right op- 
 posite the front door. Without a moment's hesi- 
 tation I went up to the cabman, put a sovereign 
 into his hand, and said, ' Tell me what is the 
 meaning of all this ?' — ' Why, my man,' he at 
 ODce answered, 'it's a little bit of lunacy affair, 
 and that's all.' — 'Where are you going to take 
 the person to ?' I demanded. — ' I don't know,' he 
 replied : ' that gentleman and his two men got out 
 of an omnibus down iu Piccadilly, and at once 
 called me off the stand. They told me in a few 
 words that they were going to take a patient to 
 an asylum, and that therefore I must not mind 
 anything she said. The stout gentleman assured 
 me it was all right, as the medical certificates had 
 been signed; and so you see, my man, the busi- 
 ness is straightforward enough. It isn't the first 
 time I have had to do a bit of work of this sort.' — 
 ' Welt,' I immediately said, ' I am interested in 
 the matter ; and if, when you have returned from 
 taking the patient to the asylum, you will meet 
 me again, I will give you another sovereign. But 
 not a word to the doctor or his men!' — 'AH right,' 
 answered the cab-driver : and he named a public- 
 house in some street off Piccadilly, which keeps 
 open all night, and where he promised to join me. 
 I then hastened away to a little distance; and in 
 a few moments I saw the front door open, and a 
 female, who seemed to be struggling violently, was 
 hastily borne out between the two men and thrust 
 into the cab. She was crying loudly for help : 
 several persons stopped : I rushed back to the 
 spot, as if attracted by those cries : but a police- 
 man, on receiving acme hurried intimation from 
 the old gentleman with the gold-headed cane, said 
 it was all right. That gentleman jumped into the 
 cab, which his men had already entered ; the win- 
 dows were drawn up; and the vehicle dashed 
 away at a rapid rate. I don't think that the 
 whole proceeding, from the instant that the front 
 door opened for the men to come out with poor 
 Zarah, until the cab drove off, occupied more than 
 a minute." 
 
 "And did the driver keep his appointment with 
 you?" 1 anxiously asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes. Miss," replied William Lardner : 
 " there was no fear of his disappointing me : he 
 had another sovereign to earn. You will of course 
 understand, Miss, that the instant I found it was 
 a lunacy-affair — though no doubt a pretended one 
 — I was compelled to keep myself quiet : I dared 
 not interfere for the rescue of poor Zarah — I 
 should only have been given into custody — and 
 that would have made matters worse instead of 
 bettering them." 
 
 "Yes, you could not have acted otherwise than 
 you have done," I hastily interjected : " your con- 
 duct was most discreet under the circumstances. 
 But now for the remainder of your narrative .''" 
 
 " I went to the publio-house," continued Wil- 
 liam Lardner ; " and there I sat for a good hour 
 and a half before the cabman made his appear- 
 ance. Indeed it was about half-past one o'clock 
 in the morning when he came : and he then gave 
 me the information I wanted. He told me that 
 he had driven to an asylum right at the end of 
 dotting Hill : it stands all alone, up a by-road to 
 the right : it is called Borland House ; and the 
 name of the doctor himself is Beresford. And 
 now. Miss, I have nothing more to say." 
 
 I expressed my sincere thanks to William Lard- 
 ner for the services that he had rendered ; and I 
 insisted that he should accept from me the sum 
 of ten guineas, which I placed in his hand. 
 He would have declined to receive a single 
 shilling more than the amount which he had ac- 
 tually expended : but I declared that I should feel 
 hurt and angry if he refused, and that on no 
 future occasion should I ever avail myself of his 
 services. He therefore yielded ; and I left him 
 alone for a few minutes with Beda, that he 
 might bid her farewell. 
 
 I ascended to my chamber, and sat down to re- 
 flect upon the course which was now to be 
 adopted. My estimate of St. Clair's character 
 had not been wrongly made : his fiendish capa- 
 city for mischief had indeed devised a terrible 
 means of ridding himself of Zarah. I kne.v 
 enough of the infamous lunacy laws to be well 
 aware that if a couple of unprincipled surgeons, 
 lured by bribes, had signed a particular certificate 
 — and that if Dr. Beresford was also one of those 
 willing instruments of mischief whom such a vil- 
 lain as St. Clair seldom fails to pick up with 
 readiness — Zirah's position was indeed a most 
 awkward one. The law was entirely against 
 her ; while the whole fiction of it, with all its 
 associated iniquity, was completely on the side of 
 St. Clair. There was consequently no authority 
 to whom I could appeal on Zarah's behalf and 
 yet I was resolved not to abandon her. I now 
 saw that cunning must be met by cunning, and 
 artifice must be encountered by artifice. Already 
 certain plans were suggesting themselves to my 
 mind ; . and I had matured them by the time 
 Bada made her appearance, at the expiration of 
 about ten minutes,— she having taken leave of 
 William Lardner. 
 
 I explained to Beda enough of the lunacy laws 
 to convince her how completely Zirah was now 
 vanquished by her merciless enemy, uuless we 
 took speedy measures for her rescue. 
 
 " For the next sis months," I observed, " she 
 may remain in a madhouse before the visiting 
 Commissioners can be appealed to on her behalf.
 
 ELLES PEHCT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AK ACIRES8, 
 
 
 During that interval a studied system of cruel 
 treatment maj drive her reallj mad ; and this is 
 doubtless the aim to vrbich the villain St. Clair 
 ia now looking. It is therefore a paramount 
 necessity that we should enter upon our proceed- 
 ings at once. The first step is to establish a 
 medium of communication with Zarah ; and jou, 
 Beda, munt become that medium." 
 
 " I will do everything, Miss, that you com- 
 mand me," replied the willing girl. 
 
 "You must go boldly to Norland House,'' I 
 continued, "and tell Doctor Beresford that you 
 have been appointed by Captain St. Clair to attend 
 upon Zarah. He will at once believe you : he will 
 see that you know everything connected with the 
 circumstance : he will therefore be thrown com- 
 pletely ofiF his guard ; and ho will even fancy that 
 you must have received some special instructions 
 from 8t. Clair in reference to the mode of treat- 
 No 35.— J>ii£s Peect. 
 
 ment to be observed towards Zarah. Indeed, you 
 can throw out a hint to this effect " 
 
 " But if in the course of the day," remarked 
 Beda, "the Doctor should communicate with Cap* 
 tain St. Clair and discover that I have practised 
 this deception " 
 
 "He could but expel you from his housa 
 Beda," I rejoined. 
 
 " Oh ! it is not of my own personal safety I 
 am thinking," she ejaculated. " I would dare 
 anything and everything for poor Zarah's sake : 
 for never can I forget that it was through her I 
 became introduced to you !" 
 
 " No matter, my dear Beda," I resumed, " if 
 in the course of the day you should be compelled to 
 leave Norland House. The grand object is in the 
 first instance for you to obtain access to Zarah, if 
 only for a single hour. You will convey to her the 
 j assurance that the treacherous plot of which she
 
 274 
 
 SXLEN PEKCY; OE, TWE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 has become a victim, is known to those who will 
 befriend her ; and thus she will be relieved of the 
 horrible idea that the darkest mystery envelopes 
 her fate. You will see likewise what she herself 
 may suggest, and whether by the aid of friends 
 out-of-doors she may effect her escape. Further- 
 more, you will be enabled to take a survey of the 
 internal arrangements of the asylum ; and thus 
 we shall not be working altogether in the dark. 
 It is just probable that no communication at all 
 may take place during the day between Doctor 
 Beresford and Captain St. Clair ; and if fortune 
 should so far favour us, your visit to the asylum 
 may be productive of speedy and important re- 
 sults." 
 
 I then gave Beda some farther instructions in 
 respect to the course which she was to pursue ; 
 and she at once took her departure. When I 
 joined the Normans at tlie breakfast-table, I 
 accounted for the visit of a young sailor to the 
 house at such an hour in the morning, by stating 
 that he was much attached to Beda, and that by 
 my permission he had come to bid her farewell 
 previous to finally joining his ship. I have before 
 said that the Normans bad no undue curiosity ; 
 and in respect to my actions they were never ac- 
 customed to question me farther than I chose to 
 instruct them on any point. I thought it very 
 probable that my services would be required in 
 the evening on behalf of Zarah : at all events I 
 was determined to be prepared for such a contin- 
 gency ; and I therefore resolved to excuse myself 
 from appearing at the theatre. This I did on the 
 usual plea of indisposition ; and the Normans were 
 not surprised when they heard me state that I was 
 indisposed— for the excitement which I had sus- 
 tained on Zarah's account had rendered me pale 
 and had given me a careworn look. 
 
 At about twelve o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Norman 
 went to the theatre, as usual, accompanied by 
 Juliet, — all three for the purposes of rehearsal ; 
 and I soon afterwards set out for Netting Hill, 
 according to an understanding to which 1 had 
 come with Beda. 1 proceeded in a cab, and 
 alighted in the neighbourhood of the road in 
 which Norland House was situated. I had pur- 
 posely dressed myself with great plainness : I had 
 on a thick veil : and I looked carefully about to see 
 that St. Clair was not anywhere in the neighbour- 
 hood. I did not entertain much apprehension on 
 this point : for I thought that when once he learnt 
 that Zarah was in safe custody in the lunatic- 
 asylum, he would consider that his plan was fully 
 accomplished and he would not trouble himself 
 much more on her behalf. 
 
 After walking about for a little time, and not 
 seeing anything of Beda, I turned into the by- 
 road itself and passed by Norland House. It 
 was only a small establishment: but it had a 
 picturesque appearance ; for at one extremity im- 
 mense vines climbed up the walls and festooned 
 about the windows. These windows had all Vene- 
 tian blinds : but of those in the other parts of the 
 asylum, some were barred to the top of the lowpr 
 sash — while others again wore completely pro- 
 tected by gratings from top to bottom. The 
 structure stood in the midst of a small garden, 
 the walls of which were very high : but through 
 the iron gateway I could obtain a full view of the 
 house. I walked to the end of the road, where it 
 
 abruptly joined some fields, for it was unfinished, 
 and I thou retraced my way towards the main 
 road, in which I had agreed to meet Beda in case 
 circumstances should render it advisable for her to 
 come forth from the asylum on some pretext or 
 another. 
 
 I bad not waited long before I beheld the faith- 
 ful girl tripping towards me; and when I was 
 convinced that she had caught sight of me, I pro- 
 ceeded still farther, so as to reach a spot where 
 there was no fear of our movements being ob- 
 served by anyone connected with the asylum. Slio 
 joined me ; and I at once saw by the expression of 
 her countenance that everything was going on 
 well. 
 
 " You have succeeded, Beda," I said, " in ob- 
 taining access to Zurah P" 
 
 " Yes — immediately on my arrival," responded 
 the girl. "I was first of all conducted to a room 
 where I found the Doctor and his wife ; and with 
 all the hardihood that I could muster to my aid I 
 told them that I had been sent by Captain St. 
 Clair to be attached entirely to the person of 
 Zarah. Doctor Beresford looked at me signifi- 
 cantly, and said, ' I suppose, then, that you have 
 some special instructions ?' — I answered that I 
 had. — ' Well, well,' he said, ' I do not inquire 
 what they are. Captain St, Clair, who has in- 
 terested himself on behalf of this poor mad 
 creature, knows what he is about ; and it is for us 
 to give you every assistance and to afford you 
 every facility in carrying out his views,' He then 
 asked if I were not myself of the gipsy race? — I 
 replied that I was. Mrs. Beresford then joined 
 in the conversation ; and she said with a look full 
 of some strange moaning, 'I suppose we are to 
 consider you as being entirely devoted to the in" 
 terests of Captain St. Clair ?' — I again gave a re- 
 sponse in the affirmative : and the lady then con- 
 ducted me to a chamber, where I found Zirah 
 seated with a female keeper, who presently left the 
 room." 
 
 " And how does poor Zarah endure her cala- 
 mity ?" I asked. 
 
 " She was in complete possession of her presence 
 of mind," continued Beda, " when I was ushered 
 to her room ; for when Mrs. Bc'resford proposed to 
 conduct me thither, I was apprehensive lost in a 
 sudden transport of joy at beholding a friendly 
 face, Zarah might betray feelings calculated to 
 excite a suspicion in the old lady's mind. But 
 merely flinging a look upon me, she said with 
 assumed coldness, ' Ah, is it you ?' — Mrs. Beres- 
 ford then retired ; and when the door closed upon 
 us, Zarah, starting up, caught me in her arms." 
 
 " Ah ! I can easily picture to myself," I said, 
 " the joy that she must have experienced !" 
 
 " And it was therefore a wonder," added Beda, 
 " that she should have exercised so strong a con- 
 trol over her feelings when first I made my ap- 
 pearance. But she told me that she was at once 
 smitten with the conviction that I had by some 
 artifice obtained admission lo her, and that every- 
 thing might therefore depend on the way in which 
 she received me. She calculated reasonably 
 enough that if I had presented myself at the 
 asylum ss a friend, the door would have been 
 closed against me. But oh ! my dear Miss Percy, 
 nothing can exceed the gratitude which she ex- 
 periences towards you for the precaution you took
 
 BttEJT PEBCT; OH, THE MEMOIES OB A» ACTEE33. 
 
 275 
 
 in having some one to watoh over her safety : for 
 amidst all bcr painful thoughts, the most horrible 
 idea was that she had suddenly passed as it were 
 out of the midst of the great world into that sepul- 
 chre of an asylum, without leaving a trace be- 
 hind !" 
 
 " And I suppose that she is most bitter and 
 vindictive," I said, "against Edwin St. Clair?" 
 
 " She yearns to effect her escape," Beda an- 
 swered, '"■ in order that she may accomplish some 
 aim with which you. Miss, are acquainted, and 
 which she has promised to explain to me." 
 
 " And is there any chance," I asked, " for Zarah 
 to effect her escape ?" 
 
 "Yes— every chance!" rejoined Beda. "In- 
 deed, the whole scheme is settled ; and it is to be 
 put into practice this evening, provided that Cap- 
 tain St. Clair in the meantime does not discover 
 that I have obtained access to Zarah. But I hope 
 and trust that there is little risk of such discovery, 
 for the reason that I will presently explain." 
 
 "Every additional syllable you utter, my dear 
 Beda," I said, " infuses fresh joy into my heart. 
 Continue your explanations in your own way. 
 But perhaps I may as well inform you that I just 
 now passed by the asylum, and took a scrutinizing 
 view of its exterior through the iron gateway." 
 
 " Ah ! then you will all the more easily compre- 
 hend the explanations which I have to give !" ex- 
 claimed Beda. " You have seen that the house is 
 a srooll one; it is only fitted up to contain about 
 fourteen or sixteen female lunatics ; and there are 
 not more than six or seven there at the present 
 time. The house is handsomely furnished ; and as 
 Doctor Beresford is paid four or five hundred 
 pounds a year for each inmate, you may suppose 
 that it is a profitable business, even with the 
 limited number of patients that be now pos- 
 sesses." 
 
 " And particularly," I added, " considering bow 
 unscrupulously he conducts the business, and what 
 large fees may at times pass into bis bands in the 
 form of bribes. But continue, Beda. I am most 
 anxious to learn what plan you have devised for 
 poor Zarah's escape." 
 
 "Tou perhaps noticed, Miss," proceeded the 
 faithful girl, " that there are some rooms on that 
 side where the vines cover the walls, which have 
 no bars ?" 
 
 "Yes— I observed them," I said: "they have 
 Venetian shutters." 
 
 "The same," rejoined Beda. "But as you may 
 suppose, it was not in one of those rooms that I 
 found Zarah. Her chambsr is well protected with 
 iron bars. The rooms with the undefended win- 
 dows and the Venetian blinds, are for lunatics of 
 an entirely harmless nature, and concerning whom 
 no apprehension of escape is entertained : whereas 
 on the other band Doctor and ilrs. Beresford have 
 perhaps too good reason to know that Zarali 
 would grasp at the slightest opportunity of flight." 
 
 " Besides," I interjected, " it may doubtless 
 suit their purpose to represent Zarah as a con- 
 firmed and dangerous lunatic ; so that she may 
 be surrounded by all possible circumstances of 
 tyranny, terrorism, and coercion." 
 
 " All this is doubtless within their calculations," 
 answered Beda. " When I was first introduced 
 to Zarah's chamber this morning, the door was 
 ocked : but before Mrs. Beresford retired, she 
 
 gave me the key, bidding me secure the door in- 
 ternally, and to be sure to keep the key about ray 
 own person. These instructions she gave aside in 
 a low whisper. In short, my dear Miss Percy, I 
 can calculate upon being the custodian of the key 
 for a certain period. At about twelve o'clock 
 some refreshments were brought up into the room 
 by a female keeper, who was followed by Mrs. 
 Beresford. This lady asked me if I would like 
 to look over the house; and I at once replied 
 that I should. I will not waste precious time 
 by telling you anything about the lunatic inmates 
 whom I saw : but I will hasten to explain that I 
 found all the rooms with the Venetian blinds to 
 be unoccupied. These are the rooms, you recol- 
 lect, which have the windows without bars. Mrs. 
 Beresford conversed familiarly with me; and I 
 threw out several hints to confirm the suspicion 
 which she and her husband had from the first 
 entertained, to the effect that I had received 
 special and private instructions from Captain St. 
 Clair with reference to Zarah's treatment. Be- 
 fore I parted from Mrs. Beresford, after going 
 over the house, I casually remarked that I should 
 presently be compelled to go up into London to 
 fetch some little things which I had forgotten to 
 bring with me in my boxes ; and Mrs. Beresford 
 showed me a bell-pull in the passage, so that I 
 might always summon one of the female keepers 
 — or nurses, by the bye, as they are called — to 
 occupy my place with Zarah when I wished to 
 absent myself. On again being alone with Zarah, 
 I communicated to her the fact that all the rooms 
 with the Venetian blinds were untenanted." 
 
 " And now I begin to comprehend," I said, 
 " the plan of escape. Is it not to watch a favour- 
 able opportunity to issue from the chamber with 
 the barred windows, — you fortunately being the 
 bolder of the key, — to pass into one of the rooms 
 with the Venetian blinds, and thence effect your 
 egress by the window ?" 
 
 " Such is the project," answered Beda : " but 
 it will not be unattended with risk and danger. 
 At the summit of the staircase, on every landing, 
 there is a door which is kept fast locked. If I 
 wish to issue forth from Zarah's chamber, I must 
 ring the bell in the landing to summon the nurse 
 to open the door at the head of the staircase. 
 Thus, you see, all the occupants of rooms on each 
 particular floor are confined to that floor itself ; 
 for even if their doors be open, they can neither 
 ascend to the floor above, nor descend to the one 
 below, without the aid of a nurse to open the mas- 
 sive doors on the landing." 
 
 " I understand, Beda. On what floor is Zai-ah's 
 chamber ?" I inquired. 
 
 "On the second floor," replied Beda; "and 
 therefore you perceive that on issuing from her 
 chamber, we must penetrate into one of the two 
 rooms with the Venetian windows which are on 
 the same floor. It will be a height of at least 
 thirty- five feet from which we shall have to 
 descend; and herein exists the danger. But 
 Zarah quails not thereat ; and as for myself, t 
 woald dare it were it twice the height." 
 
 " You are a brave girl, Beda," 1 said; "and as 
 for Zarah, she is far from being deficient in 
 courage. What more have you to tell me ?" 
 
 " The length of time occupied by Mrs. Beresford 
 in showing me over the house," continued Beda,
 
 278 
 
 ELLEW PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRB3S. 
 
 " left me but a comparativelj little while for the 
 arrangement and digestion of this plan with Zarafa, 
 when we again found ourselves alone together. I 
 knew that I must be keeping you waiting, Miss, 
 — as the hour at which you were to be in this 
 neighbourhood, had arrived and was past : but 
 still I was convinced you would have patience." 
 
 " Oh ! I should have remained here until the 
 evening, Beda, rather than hare missed you. But 
 proceed." 
 
 "At length, my dear Miss, everything being 
 settled between me and Zarah, I rang the bell for 
 the nurse — surrendered her up the key of the 
 chamber — and intimated that I might be absent 
 for an hour or two. Moreover, in order to keep 
 up appearances, I whispered to her that she must 
 maintain a sharp eye upon Zarab, for that I feared 
 she might be wickedly incllaed towards any one 
 else, though I myself had the means of influencing 
 and controlling her. As I was passing through 
 the garden, I met Doctor and Mrs. Beresford, who 
 were walking there together. They stopped me 
 for a moment, and then inquired whether, as I 
 was going up into London, I should be likely to 
 see Captain St. Clair P I at once boldly answered 
 that I thought it very probable I might see him. — 
 ' In that case,' said theDoctor, 'you can tell him that 
 the patient was carried off last night with as little 
 r.oise as possible : the landlady of the house readily 
 believed that Zarah's brain was turned, for she 
 t'aought she had noticed something wild and pecu- 
 liar about her. As for the rest,' added Doctor 
 Beresford, ' you can assure the Captain that the 
 patient is in safe keeping, and that his wishes shall 
 be carried out in every respect.' — I promised to 
 deliver these messages ; and now you understand. 
 Miss, why I said just now that I do not think it 
 at all probable any communication will actually 
 take place between the Doctor and Captain St. 
 Clair for the remainder of the day. On issuing 
 from the asylum, I came straight to you." 
 
 "Everything has progressed," I observed, " in 
 a manner favourable to our designs. When do 
 you purpose to attempt the grand exploit?" 
 
 "This is the main difficulty," resumed Beda. 
 " Immediately the dusk sets in — as I learnt from 
 Mrs. Beresford's lips — she herself makes the 
 round, locks all the chambers, and takes away 
 the keys." 
 
 " Indeed !" I exclaimed. " Then in that case, 
 Beda, you will not be the custodian of the key of 
 Zarah's chamber when evening comes." 
 
 " But I shall be in possession of that key up 
 till dusk," rejoined the faithful girl; "and the 
 attempt must therefore be made while the twilight 
 lasts, a quarter of an hour or ten minutes pre- 
 vious to the commencement of the old lady's I 
 rounds." I 
 
 "And if there be any persons walking in the 
 garden," I observed, "the attempt cannot be 
 made ?" 
 
 " We must not, my dear Miss," replied Beda, 
 with a smile, " flatter ourselves that everything is 
 to progress smoothly. There are difficulties to be 
 encountered and risks to be run in all ventures of 
 this kind. But it fortunately happens that at 
 the extremity of the passage on the second floor, 
 Zarah and I may this evening have our choice of 
 a front or a back room with undefended windows, 
 as the scene of our operations. These will be 
 
 rapidly conducted : and if we catch a glimpse of 
 any persons in the front garden, we must descend 
 from the back window — or the reverse, according 
 to circumstances. And now, my dear Miss, I 
 come to that point which relates to the assistanoe 
 that you yourself are to render." 
 
 " Only tell me the part that I am to play," was 
 my quick response, " and I shall not disappoint 
 you." 
 
 " We may escape from the window," continued 
 Beda; "but there will be still another escape to 
 effect — and this is from the garden itself. The 
 walls are very high, as you have doubtless no- 
 ticed : the iron gates are always locked— and there 
 is a watchful porter in the lodge. We must 
 climb that part of the wall which is exactly oppo- 
 site the extremity of the house where the vines 
 festoon about the Venetian windows, front and 
 back. But fortunately there are no windows in 
 the side of the house itself; and thus the escape 
 over the garden- wall at the point I have named, 
 stands little chance of being observed. Precisely 
 at sunset, you, Miss, must be in the neighbour- 
 hood, provided with a rope-ladder to throw over 
 the wall to us. Let the extremities of the cords 
 have stout wooden pegs, which we may drive 
 slantwise into the ground, so as to retain the 
 ladder fixed in a sloping position, you know— just 
 like the cords of a tent. Then a cab in waiting 
 at a little distance — and that is all you will be 
 required to do !" 
 
 I cheerfully undertook everything that I was 
 thus asked to perform ; and after a little more 
 conversation with Beda, in respect to certain 
 minute details, we separated. I hastened back 
 into London : and before returning to Hunter 
 Street, I purchased a sufficient quantity of com- 
 mon bell-pull cord for the manufacture of the 
 rope-ladder. On reaching home, I shut myself 
 in my own chamber, and set busily to work at the 
 task which I had in hand. This occupied me 
 somewhat longer than I had expected; for it was 
 necessary to fasten the various cross-pieces with a 
 considerable degree of strength, and also to intro- 
 duce two or three steps of wood in order to keep 
 the sides of the ladder conveniently apart. While 
 engaged with my labour, I reviewed everything 
 that Beda had told me; and I considered that the 
 chances of Zarah's escape were considerably in 
 her favour. Yet I was not too sanguine ; for I 
 saw that everything depended upon the absence of 
 any communication beiween the Beresfords and 
 St. Clair. 
 
 It being the first day of September, the sun set 
 at about a quarter to seven ; and a little before 
 that time I was in the neighbourhood of Norland 
 House, according to my promise. The cab which 
 had brought me, was concealed behind a clump of 
 trees at a little distance from the asylum ; and by 
 the liberality of my promises, as well as by means of 
 a handsome earnest of my good intentions, I gave 
 the driver to understand that there was some 
 business of a delicate and important nature to be 
 accomplished. I had the rope-ladder rolled up 
 into the narrowest possible compass, and con* 
 cealed beneath my scarf: I placed myself in such 
 a position with regard to the bouse that I could 
 obtain a view of the windows from either of which 
 the descent might be effected. And now, for seve- 
 ral minutes, 1 was a prey to the utmost suspense.
 
 ELLBir PSBCT; OB, THB MEM0IB3 OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 277 
 
 Those difficulties whicb I had hitherto glanced so 
 lightly at, appeared to take more colossal propor> 
 tions the nearer the instant drew when thej would 
 have to be grappled with. But I need not dwell 
 farther on all the hurried reflections that I made 
 during that brief period in which hope and fear 
 were thus clashing: 1 will continue the thread 
 of my narrative. 
 
 The last rays of the setting sun glimmered in 
 the hori2on ; and the interval of twilight suc- 
 ceeded. In a short time, as my eyes wore fixed 
 upon the spot where all my interest was now coa< 
 centrated, I could discern through the gathering 
 gloom some small white object within one of the 
 windows around which the vines festooned. Then 
 the lower sash of that window was opened : I 
 could distinguish the white object more plainly : it 
 was a kerchief that was beiog waved as & signal 
 to me : for both Eeda and Zarah felt assured that 
 I was on the look-out from some point where they 
 themselves could not distinguish mo. And almost 
 immediately afterwards I could discern two forms 
 at the open window ; and then a length of rope, or 
 rather of material formed of sheets and blankets 
 and curtains torn into strips, which were fastened 
 together, was rapidly unrolled from the window. 
 Ah ! it was Beda that was about to descend first ! 
 it was she who had insisted upon testing with her 
 lighter form the strength of the rope, ere the 
 heavier person of Zarah should be committed to 
 it. For a few moments the young girl sat 
 crouching down upon the window-sill — I knew not 
 whether her courage failed her, or whether it were 
 that she was listening attentively for the last time 
 to assure herself that no footsteps were approach- 
 ing in the garden. Ah ! I ought not to have 
 fancied that she was deficient in fortitude even for 
 a single instant : for now she was grasping the 
 upper part of the rope — she was gliding down it 
 until the wall of the garden concealed her from 
 my view ! I just waited until I beheld Zarah 
 commencing the descent— and then I sped close 
 up to the wall, where I remained, getting the rope- 
 ladder in hasty readiness to be thrown over. 
 
 In about a minute my ear caught the sounds 
 of light footsteps on the opposite side of the wall ; 
 and a small stone or .piece of earth was thrown 
 over to me. This was a signal previously agreed 
 upon between myself and Beda; and I lost not an 
 instant in obeying it. I threw the rope-ladder 
 over the wall, making the extremity on my side 
 fast to the trunk of a small tree. A few moments 
 elapsed, during which Zarah and Beda were driving 
 the pegs on their side into the ground ; and then 
 I bad the satisfaction of beholding the counte- 
 nance of Zarah appear above the wall. Her escape 
 was quickly consummated ; and she strained me in 
 her arms. Beda's light form now dropped from 
 the wall ; and we all three hastened to the cab. 
 We took our seats in the vehicle ; and it drove 
 away at a rapid rate. 
 
 Zarah overwhelmed me with thanks for the part 
 which I bad played in thus enabling her to escape 
 from the lunatic-asylum ; and I proffered her my 
 sincerest congratulations on the event. We both 
 of us lavished fitting eulogies upon the conduct of 
 Beda in the transaction ; and when all these first 
 feelings of rejoicing had found their vent, I 
 thought it absolutely necessary to discuss Zarah's 
 future plans of proceeding. In the first instance 
 
 it was necessary for her to consider whither she 
 would go ; for I did not suppose that she intended 
 to return to the lodgings whence she had been 
 forcibly carried away. On this point I found that 
 her mind was already made up -. she had decided 
 upon going back to her former place of abode near 
 the London University. 
 
 We discoursed freely in the presence of Beda ; 
 for the young girl had proved herself by her 
 fidelity and intelligence to be in every way worthy 
 of this confidence. Indeed, Zarah had already 
 initiated her, during the afternoon, into many de- 
 tails of her late proceedings and her present plans 
 in respect to Edwin St. Clair. 
 
 " You must act with the utmost circumspection, 
 Zarah," I said j " for you will bear in mind that 
 Doctor Beresford, armed with a medical certificate, 
 may seize you wherever he may find you, and bear 
 you back to his asylum." 
 
 " I have not lost sight of that fact, my dear 
 Miss Percy," answered Zarah. "I have suffered 
 once through want of caution and through an 
 overweening confidence in the success of my plana 
 as I had sketched them out : but the lesson has 
 perhaps been a salutary one." 
 
 " And is it possible, Zarah," I asked, " that you 
 still think of linking your fate with that of a man 
 who is capable of so much villany ?" 
 
 " Nothing can alter that resolve on my part," 
 rejoined Zarah : and as her eyes flashed fiercely, 
 she added, " I will compel hioi to take me as his 
 wife, were it only to punish him the mora eff'ectu- 
 ally. Ah, my dear Miss Percy ! my love has well 
 nigh turned into hate ; and Oh ! I must be 
 avenged ! If his proud spirit scorn me — if his 
 haughty disposition contemn the gipsy-bride, I 
 must humble him— I must bring him down very 
 low ! And this I will do." 
 
 Her lips were then compressed with the fiercest 
 resolution ; and for some few minutes there was 
 silence— for I was reflecting mournfully upon what 
 Zarah's destiny might possibly be if she persisted 
 in compelling that young man of dark villanies 
 and of fiend-like machinations to conduct her to 
 the altar. 
 
 "Yes," resumed Zarah at length, "my resolve 
 is irrevocably fixed ; and since I now find that it 
 will indeed prove a terrible chastisement for Edwin 
 St. Clair to make the gipsy his bride, it will bo 
 with all the greater satisfaction that I myself shall 
 inflict that punishment.— But here we are at the 
 lodgings." 
 
 The cab stopped in front of the house in the 
 neighbourhood of the London University ; and 
 Zarab, bidding us remain in the vehicle for a few 
 moments, alighted. After a brief interchange of 
 words with the landlady of the house, she returned 
 to us to intimate that the lodgings were not let 
 and that she could re-take possession of them. I 
 and Beda accordingly descended from the cub— the 
 driver of which was rewarded with even a greater 
 liberality than I bad promised. 
 
 "And now, Zarah," I said, when we were all 
 three seated in the parlour of the lodgings, " what 
 step is next to be taken ?" 
 
 " With your permission, my dear Miss Percy," 
 answered Zarab, " I must continue to avail myself 
 of the assistance of Beda. By the course which 
 she has already adopted on my behalf, she has 
 thrown off the mask, as it were, towards those
 
 278 
 
 SLIEST FEBCT ; 0£, THE MEUOIBS OV AS ACIKEBS. 
 
 who fancied that in her they possessed a docile ment to the proper authorities to-morrow, at 
 agent for their iniquities. St. Clair — who already the hour of noon precisely, unless this friend 
 knows that Beda is in your service, and who has should previously receive a counter-order from ray 
 doubtless been hugging the hope that she has not lips. This is the extent of the message which you 
 failed to administer the poisoned lozenges — will have to convey to Captain St. Clair. Fear not ou 
 now suddenly comprehend that she is imbued with your own account, Beda : with this threat hanging 
 principles and that she entertains sympathies over his head, he will not dare touch a single hair 
 which render her very different from that for of your's !" 
 
 which she has been token. He can scarcely fail ■ " Oh, I entertain no fear !" exclaimed the young 
 to suspect that i/ou, my dear Miss Percy, have girl, starting up from her seat : and in a few iao« 
 aided Beda in accomplishing my rescue ; and at meats the door closed behind her. 
 all events the faithful girl, by her conduct of this 
 day, has proved that she can no longer be looked 
 upon as a willing agent for the criminal inten- 
 tions of my wretched grandmother, Edwin St. 
 Clair, or Lady Lilla Essendine." 
 
 " Yes," I observed, '•' Beda must henceforth ap- 
 pear in a now light to the view of those per- 
 sons." 
 
 '•' And therefore," continued Zarah, " it cannot 
 be in the least prejudicial to your interests, my 
 dear Miss Percy, if Beda continues for the present 
 to serve me in the carrying out of my own 
 views ?" 
 
 "Decidedly not," I rejoined. "But even if it 
 were otherwise, I should not be selfish enough, 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 ZAEAH AND ST. CLAIE. 
 
 I EESOLVEB to remain with Zarah until Beda'a 
 return ; for I was anxious to become acquainted 
 with the result of her mission to St. Clair. It was 
 not now more than half-past nine in the evening ; 
 and I was therefore in no hurry to return to 
 Hunter Street, Zarah and I conversed together 
 during Beda's absence — which lasted for about an 
 hour and a half; and again did I endeavour to in- 
 Zarah, to consider my own interests in opposition duce my gipsy friend to reflect calmly upon the 
 
 to yours. "What can Beda do for you ?" 
 
 "You remember, my dear Miss Percy," con- 
 tinued Zarah, " that you once consulted me on a 
 particular project which you had in view as a 
 means of protecting yourself against the machioa' 
 
 proceeding which she was adopting in reference to 
 St. Clair. 
 
 " It is a delicate topic for me to touch upon, 
 Zarah," I said : " but still I feel it my duty to 
 approach it once more. What hope of happiness 
 
 tions of St. Ciair. You told me that you purposed \ can you entertain in forcing this man into an al- 
 to pen a narrative of everything you knew or j liance with you? You can never expect to win 
 suspected concerning him — which narrative you j his love ; and even if you did, the love of such a 
 should entrust to the keeping of some faithful i being— Oh ! is it not a frightful thing ?" 
 ffiend " "If he give me not his love," answered Zarah, 
 
 "I remember full well, Zarah!" I interrupted "I will give him my hatred. Perhaps it is in 
 her. "You dissuaded me from the plan— and I hatred that I am now acting; and if so, no 
 did not aJ-opt it. But wherefore do you make | wonder ! — for there has been too much of love 
 allusion to it now ?" j it has undone me and I will have a little 
 
 "' Because it has proved susfgestive to my mind of hatred. Yes, yes!— if St. Clair so wills it, 
 on the present occasion," replied Zarah. " You away with love !" 
 
 shall see how. — Beda, my dear young friend, I am i " But this is a fearful destiny, Zarah," I ear- 
 about to entrust you with a mission which I know ' nestly remonstrated, " that you are preparing for 
 you will execute faithfully; and I am likewise con- yourself." 
 
 vinced that you will accomplish it firmly and cou- j "And yet it is the destiny which I shall em- 
 rageously. "Will you proceed on my behalf to brace with satisfaction," she rejoined. " Oh ! my 
 Captain St. Clair ?" i dear Miss Percy ! with you I may be candid. Is 
 
 "I will," answered Beda. not my ambition to be gratified? Or call it 
 
 "If he be not already acquainted with the in- vanity if you will; and if vanity, it must be 
 telligence," continued Zarah, " you may inform ministered unto. In the eyes of the world St. 
 him that I have escaped from the asylum to Clair occupies a brilliant position: it will be a 
 which his villany had consigned me. But doubtless proud thing to become his wife !" 
 that intelligence Jias been by this time conveyed ; "And a dangerous thing, Zarah," I interjected, 
 to hioi from Norland House. Tell him, Boda, l "I shall be upon my guards" she instan- 
 that his triumph was of short duration, and that taneously replied. " When once we are linked 
 it has only rendered me all the more resolute in ^ together, our relative positions will be altered. I 
 carrying out my views, so that I may triumph in my shall have upon him the claims of a wife : the law- 
 turn. Tell him likewise that to-morrow, at eleven will be my protection; and as for the insidious 
 o'clock punctually, you will return to his abode to ; workings of those mischiefs of which, alas! he ia 
 conduct him to my residence— to which he must be only too capable — I shall bid him beware lest at 
 in readiness to repair under precisely the same cir- the very first cause which I may have to suspect 
 cumstances as those which I had sketched forth him of foul play, I suddenly lift the veil from 
 for eleven o'clock this morning. He will know before the dark mysteries of his life. And more- 
 what you mean. But this is not all, Beda. Tell over, my dear Miss Percy, you yourself must ac- 
 him that a written statement of everything I knowledge that matters between St. Clair and me 
 know concerning himself and Lady Lilla Essen- have now reached that point at which I cannot 
 dine is in the hands of a faithful friend of mine, stop and from which I dare not retrograde, 
 who is positively instructed to present that state. : even if I were inclined to do so. If I become
 
 BLLEN PEBCT; OE, THB MBMOIES OF AK ACTRESS. 
 
 379 
 
 iiot his wife, he might plunge me back again 
 iuto a mad-house: but he will not dare take 
 such a step with cue whom be has deemed 
 sane and fitting enough to accompany him 
 to the altar. If he treat me only with cold 
 neglect, I shall care nothing so long as I enjoj 
 my due share of the wealth which be possesses— 
 the luxuries and the splendours which those ample 
 means may furnish. Let him, if be will, live in 
 one part of his house and I in another. Oh ! I 
 can assure you," added Zarah, her lips wreathing 
 with scorn and her large dark eyes flashing fire, 
 " he will not be enabled to break my heart by such 
 treatment as this '." 
 
 rinding that Zarah was fully resolved upon 
 pursuing the course which she had chalked out 
 for herself, I at length desisted from further argu- 
 luentj and we conversed on other subjects until 
 Beda's return. Her absence, as I have said, lasted 
 for about an hour and a half: it was therefore be- 
 tween ten and eleven when she returned to the 
 lodgings. Zarah and I both saw by her counte- 
 nance that her mission had been successful — at 
 least 80 far as the exaction of a particular promise 
 from St. Clair ; though I had still my own secret 
 misgivings whether ho would fulfil it, or whether 
 he might not even yet, despite the terrible threat 
 lield out, discover some means of evading it. 
 
 " On reaching Captain St. Clair's house in the 
 neighbourhood of the Eegent's Park," began 
 Beda, in explanation of her mission, "I learnt that 
 be was at home. I was at once conducted into 
 his presence ; and I found that be was in a furious 
 rage. He accosted me, his countenance white 
 with passion ; and bo accused me of having aided 
 in your escape, Zarah, from the lunatic-asylum. 
 I assumed a courageous demeanour : I even flung 
 upon him a look of defiance ; and I said signifi- 
 cantly, 'Yes, Captain St. Clair: I performed my 
 part in that transaction : and wheresoever I have 
 an opportunity of frustrating schemes of villany, 
 rest assured that I shall never hesitate to do my 
 duty.' — His countenance then suddenly underwent 
 a complete change : it expressed a sinister con* 
 fusion : his whole form trembled violently ; and 
 coming close up to me, ho said in a low hoarse 
 voice, ' Your words have a double meaning : you 
 have told your mistress Ellen Porcy everything 
 
 that passed ' But there he stopped suddenly 
 
 short, as if struck by the idea that he was about 
 to commit himself most unnecessarily and in a 
 most insensate manner. I at once divined, how- 
 ever, into what allusion his guilty conscience had 
 been about to betray him ; and again fixing my 
 eyes significantly upon his countenance, I said, 
 ' Yes; there is no need for me to conceal the fact ! 
 I have told Miss Percy everything that took place 
 between the old gipsy. woman and myself at her 
 cottage near Birmingham.' — Some vehement 
 ejaculation espressivo of rage burst from St. 
 Clair's lips ; and he began pacing to and fro in 
 the apartment in an agitated manner. — ' And you 
 have done this,' he said, at length stopping short, 
 'and you have been all the while a traitress; you 
 
 have been playing false to those ' But then 
 
 agaia he suddenly broke off, and with an impre. 
 cation levelled against himself i'or what he termed 
 his folly in giving way to the impulse of the mo- 
 ment, he renewed his agitated walk. I was not 
 in the least frightened: on the contrary, uie- 
 
 thought the more I could work upon his feelings 
 and surround him with terrors, the better I could 
 serve not only the purpose which I had in view 
 on your behalf, Zarah— but likewise the bettor 
 conduce to your own interests. Miss Percy." 
 
 Both Zarah and myself flung approving glances 
 upon the faithful girl ; and she continued iu the 
 following manner : — 
 
 "When Captain St. Clair had made three or 
 four turns in the room, I accosted him and said, 
 'You may henceforth tell those whom you choose 
 to employ for your iniquitous aims, that they must 
 not think to find an accomplice in the gipsy- girl 
 Beda. Do you suppose that for a single instant 
 I really intended to lend myself to the atrocious 
 views and objects of that wretched old woman, 
 who on the other hand is endeavouring to serve 
 1/oti only too vpell ? But I seemed to give a willing 
 ear to Dame Betty's instructions that I might 
 fathom the depth of the fearful scheme. Best 
 assured. Captain St. Clair, that every fresh step 
 which you take in your vindictive rancour or 
 your measures of wicked expediency against Miss 
 Percy, will only tend to place you more com- 
 pletely in her power, and furnish her with an ad- 
 ditional weapon to wield against you in case of 
 necessity.'— He listened in silence, but with a 
 ghastly look and with a strange wicked expression 
 of the eyes : it was dreadful to behold such a look 
 upon such a handsome countenance. I could not 
 help thinking of the fallen angels of Scripture, — 
 as you. Miss Percy, read of them one day to me, 
 in Milton I think it was, showing how they pre- 
 serve in some sense their celestial beauty, but with 
 an expression borrowed from Pandemonium itself 
 upon their features." 
 
 Beda paused for a few moments, as if still giving 
 way to the same thoughts which she had just ex- 
 plained and illustrated ; and then she continued in 
 the following manner :— 
 
 " Captain St. Clair made me no answer to ray 
 long speech : methought that he waited to hear 
 whether I had anything more to say, so that he 
 might ascertain to what extent his iniquities were 
 known; and I fancied that it would be better for 
 your interest, Miss Percy, to impress him with the 
 idea that you were acquainted with every detail 
 of his villanous conduct. I therefore went on to 
 say, ' In me. Captain St. Clair, you behold ouo 
 who is devoted heart and soul to the amiable and 
 excellent mistress whom she is proud to servo, but 
 whom you have thought fit to persecute. It was 
 I who fathomed all your diabolical intentions, in 
 which you were aided by Lady Lilla Essendine, 
 with respect to the treacherously-contrived yacht : 
 and so surely as you take each successive sti'p in 
 your iniquitous career, will heaven enable virtue 
 and innocence to triumph over your machinations. 
 You see that you can do nothing without being 
 detected: your deep design in regard to that yacht 
 was laid bare ; and yesterday you thought you had 
 for ever removed Zarah from your path ; but that 
 plot was likewise fathomed and has likewise bccu 
 baffled. You are iu the position of an enemy who 
 is surrounded by spies, and who stands upon a 
 mine which may explode at any instant.' — Tbus I 
 spoke to Captain St. Clair; and I saw that be 
 quailed at my words, that the conviction of their 
 truth was forced upon him, and that Lis guilty cou- 
 science was torturing him with a poignancy which
 
 280 
 
 ELLEK PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIBB OF AN ACTKB8S. 
 
 \ras reflected in his couuteoance. Again he betook 
 himself to his troubled walk : at every turn he flung 
 upon me a glance which showed that he longed to 
 question me, but that he dared not. At length 
 he abruptly stopped short, and demanded, ' For 
 what purpose do you come ? are you a messenger 
 from your mis»re89 Miss Percy ? or are you for 
 the nonce serving the views of your friend Zarah P' 
 — ' It is Zaiah who has sent me,' I answered. 
 'Tou triumphed for a few hours: it is now her 
 turn to triumph, and her conquest shall endure 
 for a lifetime !' " 
 
 " Yes — you spoke well, Beda !" exclaimed 
 Zarah. " And what did he say ?" 
 
 " He folded his arms across his chest," con* 
 tinued Beda, — "I scarcely knew for an instant 
 whether it were in actual bravado, or whether it 
 were a movement arising from the desperate feel- 
 ings of one who saw that conditions which he 
 dared not refuse were about to be presented to 
 him as it were at the sword's point. But I 
 quickly perceived that it was the latter: for when 
 1 told him, Zarah, precisely what you had bidden 
 me say — when I repeated the words which you 
 bad put into my mouth, his countenance became 
 more ghastly than it was at first, his lips grew 
 ashy, and they quivered perceptibly. I assured 
 him that the- lesson he had taught you by his 
 treachery of last night, was not thrown away — 
 that you had taken precautions which would defy 
 all his ingenuity and all his artifice ; for that you 
 had committed to paper everything you knew con- 
 cerning him, and you cared not whether others 
 might be involved in his ruin if he were insensate 
 enough to invoke that ruin upon his head." 
 
 "Ob, you spoke well ! Tou executed your mis- 
 sion admirably !" exclaimed Zarah. " Proceed, 
 my dear Beda — proceed !" 
 
 " St. Clair muttered something to himself," con- 
 tinued Beda : " I did not exactly catch what it 
 was— but methought it was to the efl'ect that you, 
 Zarah, had borrowed a leaf out of Miss Percy's 
 book. I saw that he was terribly agitated, that 
 he was shaken to the very innermost of his whole 
 being, that he looked like a man who felt that the 
 entire fabric of his schemes was crumbling around 
 himself. I left him no time to recover his self- 
 possession : I knew that by dealing at him a quick 
 succession of blows I should be best serving your 
 interests. I therefore said, with as much impres- 
 siveness as possible, ' Zarah now insists that you 
 shall fulfil to-morrow, at eleven in the forenoon, 
 that which you have pledged yourself to accom- 
 plish to- day, and to evade which you perpetrated 
 that tremendous treachery against her. Shortly 
 before eleven to-morrow I shall be here to conduct 
 you to her presence. And now understand me 
 well. Captain St. Clair. If towards me to-morrow 
 you attempt the slightest treachery— or if you fail 
 to obey Zarah's mandates, she will allow matters to 
 take their course ; and at noon punctually her 
 friend will open the sealed packet confided to his 
 keeping, and place the contents in the hands of the 
 authorities. One word alone can save you ; and 
 Zarah's lips only can pronounce that word. It 
 will rest with yourself whether this word shall be 
 spoken by those lips ere the hour of noon 
 to-morrow !' — Captain St. Clair listened to me 
 vt ith a continued ghastliness of countenance ; and 
 when I had finished speaking, he still remained 
 
 gazing upon me for some moments longer, as if 
 he were under the influence of an awful con- 
 sternation and dismay. Then he slowly turned 
 round, advanced to the mantel, and stood there for 
 some minutes, with his back towards me. He 
 seemed to forget that the mirror reflected his 
 countenance, and that all the hideous horrible 
 feelings which were then conflicting in his soul, 
 were indicated upon his features. At last he 
 turned abruptly away from the mantel ; and ac- 
 costing me again, he said in a deep hoUow voice, 
 ' Beda, it shall be done. But for heaven's sake 
 tell Zarah to do nothing rash : tell her that inas- 
 much as there will be certain preparations to 
 make to-morrow morning— a license to procure-— 
 a clergyman to have in readiness— I may not bo 
 enabled to keep so closely to the time as she 
 arbitrarily expects. Yet I swear that her wishes 
 shall now be fulfilled ; and as a proof of my sin- 
 cerity, you may tell her also that I confess myself 
 vanquished. When Edwin St. Clair makes such 
 an admission as this, it is that he only feels too 
 keenly that which truth constrains him to avow.' 
 ' For your own sake, Captain St. Clair,' I an- 
 swered, ' I would indeed counsel you to attend to 
 Zarah's mandates ; for she is resolute ; and the 
 friend to whose hands she has consigned the 
 papers, is not a man who will neglect the instruct 
 tions that have been given him.' — Having thus 
 spoken, I turned quickly away, and glided from 
 the room : but I lingered alike on the landing 
 and on the stairs, in order to ascertain whether 
 Captain St. Clair took any steps to have me fol- 
 lowed so as to discover my destination on leaving 
 the house. The precaution was however unneces- 
 sary : the door did not open— no bell rang. I 
 issued forth from the dwelling : and I made the 
 best of my way hither. I feel convinced, Zarah," 
 added Beda emphatically, " that Captain St, Clair 
 is a man who is completely beaten : be feels it- 
 he knows it ; and at eleven to-morrow you will 
 behold him here." 
 
 "Such also is my opinion," I said, "after 
 everything I have heard:"— for my misgivings 
 had now entirely vanished. 
 
 Both Zarah and myself complimented Beda 
 upon the manner in which she had acquitted her- 
 self of the mission entrusted to her; and the faith- 
 ful girl was rejoiced at thus deserving our com- 
 mendations. 1 determined upon leaving Beda 
 with Zarah for the night ; so that in case any mis- 
 chief should happen to the latter, the former would 
 be enabled to bring me the intelligence with the 
 least possible delay — though I looked upon the 
 precaution as barely necessary ; for Beda's narra- 
 tive had proved how St. Clair was discomfited, and 
 I felt convinced that he must know the gipsy 
 nature of Zarah too well to suppose that she would 
 on the present occasion leave herself open to be as- 
 sailed on any vulnerable point. I took my leave 
 and returned to Hunter Street. The Normans 
 fancied I had been making a variety of calls 
 amongst my acquaintances at the "West End; — 
 and in respect to Beda I had already accounted for 
 her absence from the house by stating that I had 
 given her a holiday to enable her to visit a respect- 
 able female whom she knew. It was a long time 
 that night ere slumber visited my eyes : for I was 
 kept awake by my reflections on all that had 
 passed during the day, as well as by a certain
 
 ELLEN PKKCT ; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 281 
 
 degree of suspense and anxiety which I expe- 
 rienced as to what n3ight probably bo the termi- 
 nation of the important matter in store for the 
 morrow. The morning's post brought me a very 
 kind and courteous letter from the Countess of 
 Carshalton, requesting me to call at the mansion 
 at my earliest convenience, as the Earl had some 
 communication to make. Although the object was 
 not specified, yet I felt convinced from the tone of 
 the billet itself, that my hope was about to receive 
 its fulfilment and that the pardon of my father 
 bad been awarded. I was therefore all anxiety to 
 proceed to Carshalton House; and I should even 
 have set off immediately after breakfast, were it 
 not necessary to await the return of Beda in order 
 to ascertain how matters had progressed at Zarah's 
 lodgings. 
 
 It was about half-past twelve o'clock, when, 
 being in my own chamber, I heard Beda's light 
 No. 36.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs; and my 
 heart palpitated violently; for she might be the 
 bearer of good or of evil intelligence— Zarah 
 might have triumphed, or Edwin St. Clair might 
 have perpetrated some fresh wickedness. The 
 door opened — Beda bounded in — all my anxiety 
 and suspense were dispelled in a moment; for I 
 saw by the expression of her countenance that 
 everything was favourable ! 
 
 " It is done !" exclaimed Beda; "and the gipsy 
 Zarah is the wife of the brilliant Edwin St. 
 Clair !" 
 
 " Is it possible ?" I cried, still scarcely able to 
 realize that which appeared to be invested with 
 all the fantastic wildness of a dream. 
 
 "My dear Miss, it is as I tell you!" responded 
 Beda, her large dark eyes being luminous with 
 triumphant joy, and her lips wreathing with 
 smiles above her pearly teeth. " I myself beheld
 
 282 
 
 EIiLKN PEECT; OU, the ME1I0IE8 OP AX ACTRESS. 
 
 the ceremony! — it is accomplished ! — our gipsy 
 friend is St. Clair's bride— and he has borne her 
 to his home !" 
 
 " It is marvellous, Beda !" I said : " it trans- 
 cends all the wonders of the most imaginative and 
 preposterous romance ! That so wild a scheme as 
 Zarah's could have succeeded — that she whom but 
 comparatively a short time back, I beheld bare- 
 footed in the neighbourhood of Lady Lilla Essen- 
 dine's villa— should have succeeded in raising her- 
 eelf to the position of a rich and distinguished 
 tnan's wife, is something to which the mind 
 almost refuses its faitb, notwitstanding it knows 
 it to be true '." 
 
 " And it is true !" rejoined Beda. " But the 
 result has astonished me most of all : for I ex- 
 pected, when the ceremony was over, that Captain 
 St. Clair would walk away scornfully and con- 
 temptuously, leaving the bride behind him : 
 whereas " 
 
 " Tell me every detail, Beda !" I interrupted 
 her. " Begin from the commencement ! You 
 know how much I am interested in all these cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 " The night passed," said Beda, " without any 
 incident to threaten Zarah's safety or security. 
 At half-past ten o'clock this forenoon, I issued 
 from her lodgings, and bent my way to Captain 
 St. Clair's house in the neighbourhood of the 
 Eegent's Park. I was informed that'be had gone 
 out at an early hour in the morning — but that he 
 had left a message to the effect that if I should 
 call before his return, I was to wait for him. Soon 
 after eleven o'clock he entered the room to which 
 I had been shown. I saw that he was exceed- 
 ingly pale— that he had a very haggard and care- 
 worn look— and that his eyes were somewhat in- 
 flamed — indeed that there was every indication of 
 his having passed a sleepless night. He closed the 
 door, advanced straight up to me, and said in a 
 low voice and with a forced composure, ' I have 
 kept my word in every respect up to this point : 
 but am I positively to suppose that Zarah is serious 
 in her intentions, and that there are no possible 
 conditions to which she will listen ?' — 'Her re- 
 solve is fixed,' I answered ; ' and you can offer 
 nothing to which she will assent,' — He remained 
 silent for a few moments, during which his face 
 seemed to become ghastlier, and his lips, ashy 
 white, quivered till he suddenly bit them as if to 
 restrain their tremulousness. Tiien he said, as if 
 acting under an abrupt impulse, while he grasped 
 my wrist so tightly that the fiogers which closed 
 upon it appeared to be made of iron, ' A 
 thousand guineas, Beda, for you, if you will tell 
 me who is this faithful friend of hers to whose 
 hands she has confided the sealed packet of which 
 you spoke tome last night?' — I shook my head 
 resolutely. — ' By heaven, you know and you must 
 tell me !' he exclaimed, as if maddened and goaded 
 to desperation. — Again 1 shook my head, my looks 
 quailing not before him. — ' Beda,' he resumed, ' I 
 said a thousand guineas; I will double the sum if 
 you will consent to serve me in this instance ! I 
 will moreover take you to a jeweller's, where you 
 shall select for yourself the costliest gems; I 
 will give you the richest wardrobe that gold can 
 purchase ; I will furnish a house for you in the 
 most sumptuous manner ; I will make a lady of 
 you; and I will for ever be your friend 1' — But for 
 
 the third time I shook my head; and never shall 
 I forget how ghastly was the look of disappoint- 
 ment which seized upon the countenance of Cap. 
 tain St. Clair. My dear Miss Percy, if I have 
 told you all these things which to such an extent 
 regard myself, it is for no purpose of making a 
 parade of my refusal of the temptations held out, 
 but simply in obedience to your mandate that I 
 should acquaint you with everything." 
 
 " Yes, Beda— omit not a single detail !" I said : 
 " tell me all that passed !" 
 
 " Captain St. Clair perceived that I was resolute 
 in resisting his offers," pursued the faithful girl; 
 " and after a few moments of speechless agony on 
 his part — for such I saw that it was — he appeared 
 by an effort to regain a forced and cold composure 
 — but. Oh ! how unnatural ! — ' Come,' he said ; 
 'conduct me to the place where Zarah awaits us.' 
 — He was then moving towards the door ; but 
 suddenly recollecting something, he stopped short, 
 and said in a low deep tone, ' Beda, in the pre. 
 sence of those who are to assist at the ceremony, 
 it is not necessary that it should appear as if I 
 were yielding to coercion.' — ' Not a syllable will 
 escape my lips, to convey such an impression,' I 
 answered ; ' and I can assure you, Captain St. 
 Clair, that Zarah's demeanour will be regulated to 
 the standard of your own.' — He said not another 
 word, but issued from the room. I followed him ; 
 and on passing out of the house, I saw a cab 
 standing in the street. It was not his own cabrio- 
 let: it was an ordinary public vehicle. — ' Now give 
 your instructions to the driver,' he whispered to 
 me, ' and let us proceed to our destination.' — I told 
 the man whither to take us ; and on entering the 
 cab, I found two persons already seated therein. 
 These were a clergyman and his clerk. St. Clair 
 took his place in the vehicle, which immediately 
 drove away. For some minutes not a word was 
 spoken : but I noticed that the reverend gentle- 
 man and his clerk contemplated me with interest 
 and attention. Captain St. Clair at length began 
 to discourse in a cheerful tone with the clergy, 
 man : but adept though he be at dissimulation, 
 he could not possibly on that occasion deceive 
 others as to the real state of his feelings. No 
 doubt the minister and the clerk must have sus- 
 pected that there was something strange in the 
 proceeding for which their services were enlisted: 
 but it was not for them to offer any comment. 
 The cab reached its destination ; and we all 
 alighted. 1 led the way up to the sitting-room 
 where Zarah awaited us ; and immediately on 
 crossing the threshold. Captain St. Ciair advanced 
 towards Zarah, whose hand he took ; and ho 
 breathed a few words in her ear, I have had no 
 opportunity of learning what they were: but I 
 have no doubt that they were to the same effect 
 as the injunction which he had given to me— 
 namely, that it was not to appear as if he were 
 acting under coercion. The demeanour of Zarah 
 was perfectly collected and composed; and not 
 once throughout the ceremony — no, nor even at 
 its termination — could the slightest expression of 
 ungenerous triumph be discerned in her looks. I 
 should observe that she was dressed with neatness 
 but elegance — with no indication of the bi-idal cos- 
 tume, — no white veil, no orange-blossoms! The cere* 
 mony progressed; and though St. Clair's cheeks con. 
 tiuued very pale, yet his demeanour was composed
 
 ELIiEN PEECT; Oil, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS, 
 
 283 
 
 and seriou?, as was fitting i'or the solemn occasion. 
 That ceremonj terminated ; the certificate was 
 duly signed — Zarah took possession of it — the 
 minister and bis clerk withdrew. I was then all 
 suspense and anxiety. I more than half expected 
 that St. Clair would turn round upon his briue, tell 
 her that her ambition was now gratified, and that 
 their pathways in the world thenceforth lay in 
 different directions. As for Zarah herself, her de- 
 meanour was that of a calm dignity, whatever her 
 inward feelings might have been. There was a 
 silence of perhaps a minute— but certainly not 
 more, after the minister and the clerk had with- 
 drawn ; and then St. Clair said, with a voice of 
 cold politeness, 'Madam, I am prepared to con- 
 duct you to your future home. It is not my fault 
 if the preparations have been so hurried, and in- 
 deed have been of such a nature as to render it 
 inconvenient for a better equipage to be in attend- 
 ance than that which iJ now waiting at the door. 
 I presume that this young female,' he added, 
 alluding to me, ' has your instructions iu reference 
 to a certain matter to which I need not more par- 
 ticularly refer.' — ' Yes,' responded Zarah : ' this 
 fait&fulgirl will procure the packet from the hands 
 of the friend to whom it has been consigned ; and 
 she will commit it to the flames. You may rely 
 upon her.' — ' I know that she is perfectly trust- 
 worthy,' remarked Captain St. Clair ; and me- 
 thought there was a slight tincture of bitterness in 
 his tone, beneath its glacial surface, as if he re- 
 membered how signally he failed in his endeavours 
 to bribe and tempt me. Zarah hastened to em- 
 brace me in a most fervid manner : she then ac- 
 cepted the arm which her husband with cold 
 politeness offered her ; and tbey descended from 
 the room. He handed her into the vehicle, which 
 immediately drove away in the direction of the 
 Kegent's Park. I watched its departure from the 
 window ; and then I also left the lodging-house — 
 with difficulty however escaping from the torrent of 
 questions overwhelmingly put by the landlady and 
 the servant-maid, who intercepted me in the pas- 
 sage. And thus, my dear Miss Percy, all is accom- 
 plislied ! The once obscure gipsy is now the bride 
 of Edwin St. Clair ! I need not add that the part- 
 ing mission which was confided to me — of seeking 
 the faithful friend to procure the restitution of 
 the packet, and to commit it to the flames— was a 
 mere fiction, no such packet having been confided 
 to any such friend at all !" 
 
 " There is only one thing which I could have 
 wished to have been difi'erently managed," I re- 
 marked, as all the perfidy which had been accom- 
 plished by Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe towards 
 Juliet Norman came up into my mind. " I should 
 be better satisfied if some proof had been afibrded 
 that the clergyman was really what he represented 
 himself to be," 
 
 " Oh, my dear Miss," exclaimed Beda, delighted 
 at being enabled to ease my mind on that point, 
 " there can be no doubt that the minister who 
 officiated was really the Reverend Mr. Calvert of 
 
 Saint parish : for amidst the multitudinous 
 
 questions with which the landlady of the house 
 sought to overwhelm me, she mentioned that 
 gentleman's name. She had recognised both him 
 and his clerk as they were taking their leave." 
 
 "I am indeed rejoiced to hear this statement, 
 Beda," I observed. "And now may heaven so 
 
 rule Zarah's destiny that she shall never repent 
 the step which she has this day taken !" 
 
 The same wish was echoed by Beda ; — and I 
 then proceeded to the mansion of the Earl and 
 Countess of Carshalton. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE PAUDON, 
 
 On arriving at Carshalton House, I was at onco 
 introduced into the presence of the Earl and 
 Countess, who received me with the kindest wel- 
 come ; and I saw by their looks that the hope 
 which I had formed was not destined to be de- 
 ceived, but that they had agreeable intelligence 
 for me. The Countess almost immediately began 
 by giving me the assurance that the secret of my 
 birth had been faithfully kept, and that not even 
 to aijy member of their family had they mentioned 
 the fact that I was the daughter of the delinquent 
 clergyman. 
 
 " And here," said the Earl of Carshalton, pro- 
 ducing a sealed packet of official shape and dimen* 
 sions, " is your father's pardon." 
 
 A strange wild feeling of joy seized upon my 
 heart at that moment : I sank upon my knees— 
 with both my hands did I clasp the hand which 
 profi'ered me that precious document : but the Earl 
 raised me up, and the Countess kissed me on both 
 cheeks. 
 
 "You know not, my dear Miss Percy," she said, 
 " the pleasure which his lordship" and myself ex- 
 perience in being enabled to render you this little 
 service. It is a free pardon, without any specific 
 condition contained therein : but remember, it has 
 been granted oiUihe understanding that the afi'air is 
 to be kept as secret as possible. It is an unpleasant 
 subject to dwell upon," continued her ladyship; 
 " but still it is necessary that you should be made 
 acquainted with certain particulars. His lordship 
 had perhaps better explain them." 
 
 " The explanations can be speedily given," said 
 the Earl. " Suppose, Miss Percy, for example's 
 sake, any individual recognising your father in 
 England, and having a spite against him, should 
 seek to hand him over into the custody of the law's 
 officers — the production of that document would 
 prove sufficient to induce any constable or other 
 authority to decline interference in the matter." 
 
 " Then, heaven be thanked!" I said, while tears 
 of joy rolled down my cheeks, "my father may 
 once again tread the soil of his native land without 
 apprehension of danger !" 
 
 With a heart full of emotion I poured forth the 
 expressions of my gratitude for the immensity of 
 the favour thus bestowed upon me : but the Earl 
 and Countess declared that they should still always 
 esteem themselves my debtors. 
 
 " There is now another thing in reference to 
 which I must speak," said the Earl of CHrshalton. 
 " Neither the Countess nor myself have forgotten 
 the interesting circumstance that your attendant, 
 Beda Robinson, is the daughter of those worthy 
 gipsies who restored our own child to our arms, 
 and who thus relieved our minds from an excru- 
 ciating sense of agony. Beda's parents were wont
 
 284 
 
 ELtEN PEECr; OE, IHE MEMOIRS OP XIX ACIEESS. 
 
 to receive an annuity of twenty pounds a year : I 
 hare instructed my broker to place a thousand 
 pounds in the funds to the name of Beda Bobin- 
 son, under the trusteeship of yourself, Miss Percy. 
 Here is the document ; — and no^, at any time 
 when you may be desirous of bestowing some little 
 reward upon the young girl for her fidelity in re- 
 spect to yourself, you can communicate the fact 
 that she is not altogether without a provision for 
 her future welfare." 
 
 On Seda's behalf I thanked the Earl and Coun- 
 tess for this proof of a generosity which was be- 
 stowed in so delicate a manner ; and 1 promised 
 to fulfil to the best of my discretion the trust that 
 had been reposed in me. Oa taking my leave of 
 the Earl and Countess, 1 returned to Hunter 
 Street : but on my way thither, I resolved to say 
 nothing for the present to Beda in respect to her 
 good fortune. Kot that I feared she would be- 
 come elate to an extent that would effect any 
 change in her general good conduct; but I saw 
 that an attachment had sprung up between her- 
 self and William Lardncr— and being deeply inte- 
 rested in Beda's welfare, I did not wish her to 
 think of marrying for several years to come, so 
 that both herself and ber intended husband might 
 in the meantime have well profited by their expe- 
 riences of the world. Whea the time should ar- 
 rive that they might consistently with prudence 
 and discretion contract the solemn engagement, 
 it would be a happy thing for them to learn that 
 there was in store for them a competency beyond 
 whatsoever they might in the meanwhile have 
 earned by their own industry and good behaviour ; 
 and therefore, as I knew that a young couple are 
 only too apt to precipitate their marriage when 
 possessing a little fortune, I deemed it in every 
 sense better for Beda's interests that for the pre- 
 sent she should continue in ignorance of the Earl 
 of Carshalton's bounty towards her. She was now 
 only a little past fifteen ; and iRme few years 
 might yet be allowed to elapse before she began 
 to think of settling herself in marriage. 
 
 Immediately on reaching Hunter Street, 1 lost 
 no time in sitting down to write a letter to my 
 father, requesting him at once to come over to 
 England, as I had intelligence of the greatest im- 
 portance to communicate. I did not choose to 
 entrust the real facts to a letter, which by the 
 possibilities of miscarriage or mislaying might fall 
 under the eyes of strangers and thus reveal the 
 fact that under the name of Mr. Croft the iden- 
 tity of Mr. Percy was concealed : and besides, it 
 may be easily understood that I experienced a filial 
 desire of communicating with my own lips the 
 happy intelligence, and enjoying the effect that it 
 might produce at the time. I mentioned in my 
 letter how immediately on his arrival in England 
 he might communicate with me under circum- 
 stances of secrecy. By the same post I wrote to 
 Mrs. Oldcastle, to make her aware of the pleasing 
 change which had taken place in my father's posi- 
 tion : but I was so careful and cautious in wording 
 the epistle that though she would understand the 
 meaning I wished to convey, it would neverthe- 
 less remain unintelligible to any stranger unac- 
 quainted with previous circumstances. 
 
 Three or four days passed ; and during this in- 
 terval I learnt thbt the whole town was astonished 
 at what was regarded as " the extraordinary mar- 
 
 riage " of Captain St. Clair. It proved the subject 
 of a paragraph in the newspapers, under the head 
 of " A Romance of Heal Life ;" and was dished up 
 with all the art of the literary purveyor for the 
 public appetite. It represented " that Captain St. 
 Clair, the Honourable Member for ■, having 
 some time bock in his travels through England 
 been struck by the extraordinary beauty of a 
 wandering gipsy, was led to make inquiries con- 
 cerning her ; and he found that her character was 
 irreproachable. Being a gentleman," continued 
 the penny-a-liner's description, " who has always 
 manifested an exceedingly bold independence of 
 spirit and a lofty scorn for society's fastidious con- 
 ventionalisms. Captain St. Clair resolved to con- 
 sult his own happiness on a point in which it bad 
 become so deeply involved. He therefore inti- 
 mated to the handsome gipsy that if she would 
 qualify herself to become his wife, he would confer 
 upon her that sacred and honourable title. It may 
 easily be supposed that the offer was not declined ; 
 and the handsome Zarab, being brought up to 
 London under circumstances which proved Cap- 
 tain St. Clair's honourable intentions and noble- 
 minded delicacy of conduct, was placed in a re- 
 spectable family, where preceptors and governesses 
 were provided for her tuition. The heroine of this 
 romance of real life made rapid progress ; and ber 
 natural fatelligence enabled her not merely to 
 attain a rare degree of perfection in all the usual 
 branches of education, but likewise to endow her- 
 self with many brilliant accomplishments and to 
 acquire the most ladylike refinement of manners. 
 We believe that we may on authority assert that 
 during this interval of mental training, Captain 
 St. Clair forbore altogether from visiting the beau- 
 tiful gipsy, so that there should not be the slight- 
 est scope for the whisperings of scandal in respect 
 to her whom he intended to make his wife. At 
 length the happy day arrived; and the marriage 
 has been solemnized under circumstances of 
 privacy, but to the joy and delight of the happy 
 couple who are the hero and heroine of this 
 strange yet truthful romance." 
 
 In Buoh a style was the newspaper-paragraph 
 worded; and the moment I read it, I felt con- 
 vinced that its instigator, if not its actual author, 
 was none other than Edwin St. Clair himself. 
 From Beda's narrative of St. Clair's conduct on 
 the wedding-day, I had more than half fancied 
 that I understood what his policy was; and now 
 I felt convinced that I had rightly comprehended 
 it. His pride had led him to make a merit of 
 the necessity which had forced him into a mar- 
 riage with Zarah. That necessity he concealed 
 frooi the world ; and assuming a bold front, 
 he appeared to tell society that he scorned its 
 conventionalisms — he treated its etiquette with 
 defiance — he hurled at it the thunders of his 
 contempt from the lofty pedestal of indepen- 
 dence on which he had placed himself. It was 
 by that very independence — by the boldness 
 and the singularity of the views which he enun- 
 ciated — by individualizing himself, as it were, 
 and keeping aloof from any particular party — it 
 was by these means, as much as by his eloquence 
 and the trenchant power of bis oratory, that he 
 had obtained such note in the House of Com- 
 mons. When, therefore, the public had recovered 
 from the first shock of its astonishment at tha
 
 ELLKN PEKCT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 285 
 
 " extraordinary marriage," it began to seem less 
 extraordinary than at the outset : it appeared to 
 be a step perfectly consistent with the haughty, 
 Bcornful, independent, and somewhat cynical cha- 
 racter of Edwin St. Clair. To this eftect tended 
 the observations which in the course of a day or 
 two I heard pass upon the matter. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Norman, at the breakfast- 
 table, when he had read the well dished-up para- 
 graph to which I hare alluded, " I always thought 
 St. Clair was no ordinary person. He used to 
 speak in a language that seemed entirely his own : 
 one never felt altogether at one's ease in his pre- 
 sence : you never knew whether there might not 
 be sarcasm in his jests, or irony when he might 
 appear to be giving utterance to the most serious 
 truths." 
 
 " And for that very reason," said Mrs. Nor- 
 man, " I always felt, if not exactly uncomfortable 
 in Captain St. Clair's presence, at least as if I 
 were in the company of a superior who made one 
 feel his superiority without absolutely proclaiming 
 it." 
 
 " He asserted it tacitly, as it were," resumed 
 Mr. Norman. " Upon my mind he always pro- 
 duced the effect as if be were looking down with 
 scorn and contempt, not merely upon those with 
 whom he found himself at the time, but upon the 
 whole world." 
 
 "When we repaired to the theatre in the even- 
 ing, Melissa Harrison said to me, " Everybody is 
 talking of St. Clair's strange marriage: but for 
 my part I do not think it strange at all. He is 
 the very person to do extraordinary things, of a 
 bold, striking, and dashing character. He has 
 never hesitated to let the world know how much 
 he despises it ; and this is another means which 
 he has adopted of hurling bis scorn and contempt 
 at the artificial notions by which society is go- 
 verned." 
 
 " And who shall say that he is wrong ?" asked 
 Mr. Bichards, who joined us at the moment on 
 the spot where we thus stood conversing behind 
 the scenes. " You will see that St. Clair's wife 
 will be visited and courted— I don't meau by your 
 very exclusive families who entertain as great a 
 horror of a mesalliance, or low marriage, as they 
 do of the plague — but I mean by a vory great 
 number of fashionable families. The step is so 
 bold a one that it inspires admiration for the man 
 who has dared to take it : and then, too, there is 
 the romantic interest which of course attaches 
 itself to the gipsy-bride. Every one will be 
 wanting to see her : curiosity will induce num- 
 bers to call at St. Clair's villa; and when once 
 they have gone to this extent, they must keep up 
 the acquaintance which they themselves will have 
 courted." 
 
 Mr.Kichards, having thus expressed his opinion, 
 was called away to settle some little dispute be- 
 tween an excited carpenter and an intoxicated 
 scene-shifter : but in a few minutes he came hur- 
 rying back, with the intelligence that Captain St. 
 Clair, accompanied by his bride, had just entered 
 a box in the theatre. The curtain had not as yet 
 drawn up : Melissa, Juliet Norman, and two or 
 three other professional ladies who heard the 
 lessee's announcement, hastened to peep from the 
 side of the curtain at the object of their engrossing 
 interest. They presently returned, declaring that 
 
 Mrs. St. Clair was really a very handsome woman 
 — that she was dressed with the most tasteful 
 elegance— and that her husband might well be 
 proud of her. They wondered that I displayed no 
 curiosity to catch a glimpse of her : they little 
 suspected how well acquainted Zarah and I already 
 were. 
 
 The curtain drew up ; and in a few minutes I 
 had to appear upon the stage in one of my favou- 
 rite characters. When opportunity served, I looked 
 furtively towards the box in which St. Clair and 
 his bride were seated. I saw that he was treating 
 her with a degree of attention sufEciently delicate 
 to suit the part of a loving husband which he was 
 playing, but yet suificieutly dignified as to be free 
 from all maudlin uxoriousness. Her own demeanour 
 was that of calm and modest contentment ; and 
 thus by their bearing towards each other they 
 afforded a corroboration for the impression made 
 by the tale which had gone the round of the news- 
 papers. I could not help thinking to myself that 
 the actors and actresses in this life were not merely 
 confined to the stage — but that they everywhere 
 abounded, even in the very boxes which fronted 
 the stage itself. The only difference was that I 
 and my companions were performing for money ; 
 while the actors and actresses elsewhere were play- 
 ing their part for the purpose of keeping up cer- 
 tain outward appearances. 
 
 At the conclusion of the drama, in which I had 
 been representing a favourite character, St. Clair 
 rose, gave his hand to his bride, and led her forth 
 from the box. I repaired to the Green Room, for I 
 had something to say to Melissa Harrison ; aud I 
 found her there in conversation with Juliet Nor- 
 man. They were both in their ballet-costume, for 
 the moment was approaching when they would 
 have to appear upon the stage. There were several 
 other members of the company likewise present; 
 and having communicated what I had to say to 
 Melissa, I was about to retire, when two gentle- 
 men somewhat abruptly entered the room. I at 
 once recognised Colonel Bellew and Lord Frederick 
 Bavenscliffe. The former I had not seen for a 
 long time; and the first glance which I flung upon 
 both showed me that they had been drinking. 
 
 Immediately on their thus making their appear- 
 ance, Juliet Norman and Melissa were moving 
 forward to quit the Green Eoom, when Lord Tre- 
 derick Ravenscliffe tapped the former upon the 
 cheek, exclaiming, "Well, 'pon my soul ! you are 
 a sweet beautiful creature 1" 
 
 The act would have been gross and insolent 
 enough even if they were utter strangers : but 
 considering everything that had passed, it struck 
 me as being the most wanton instance of cowardly 
 cruelty that I had ever witnessed. I was trans- 
 fixed to the spot with astonishment: but never 
 shall I forget the indignant expression of Juliut's 
 handsome countenance as she suddenly stopped 
 short, and drawing herself up to the full of her 
 noble height, exclaimed, " If I had a brother, my 
 lord, to protect me— or even if my father were 
 present, you would not have dared do this!" 
 
 Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe quailed visibly be- 
 fore the indignant girl ; and she passed forth from 
 the room, closely followed by Melissa Harrison, 
 who had no inclination to recognise, or be recog- 
 nised by, her heartless seducer. Colonel Bellew. 
 Almost immediately afterwards Mr. Richards made
 
 ELI,E:^f PEECT; OE, THE HEM01B8 OF AN ACTEE88. 
 
 his appearance ; and he demanded, " What has 
 happened ? who has insulted Miss Norman ?" 
 
 " This person," I said, stepping forward and in- 
 dignantly pointing to Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. 
 " If you, ilr. Richards, permit strangers thus to 
 intrude into the Green Room, I for one shall at 
 once break my engagement to appear at your 
 theatre." 
 
 My words were saluted with vehement applause 
 on the part of the other actors and actresses pre- 
 sent ; and Zvlr. Richards, feeling the necessity 
 of taking some decisive step, commanded Lord 
 Frederick Ravenscliffe and Colonel Bellew to re- 
 tire, under penalty of being instantaneously given 
 into the custody of the police. They were some- 
 what sobered by the serious turn which the inci- 
 dent had taken; and the young nobleman doubt- 
 less felt that he had indeed acted a most unworthy 
 part. He began to apologize : but Mr. Richards 
 peremptorily cut him short by ordering him to 
 depart. Colonel Bellew thereupon thought it re- 
 quisite to swagger and bluster ; but the actors who 
 were in the Green Room, rushed forward, seized 
 hold of both himself and the young nobleman, 
 and hurled them forth. Several of the subordi- 
 nates connected with the theatre sprang forward 
 to assist; and in the twinkling of an eye the two 
 offenders were summarily expelled through one of 
 the private doorways. 
 
 I proceeded to Juliet's dressing-room, where I 
 found her with her parents and Melissa Harri- 
 son. Melissa was ignorant of Juliet's secret; 
 and I saw how painful a struggle it occasioned 
 my unfortunate friend to prevent herself from 
 bursting into that flood of tears which might 
 have made Melissa suspect that there were cir- 
 cumstances which tended to aggravate the insult 
 she had received. Mr. and Mrs. Normau had 
 likewise considerable trouble in restraining their 
 feelings : but fortunately the scene passed off, so 
 far as outward appearances went, without leading 
 Melissa to fancy that there was anything more 
 than a piece of wanton insolence on the pnrt of a 
 young nobleman who had at one time affected to 
 pay his court to Juliet, but who had never in- 
 tended a serious proposal. 
 
 Juliet appeared upon the stage as usual : but 
 when we returned to Hunter Street (for I waited 
 on this occasion until the end of the ballet) — and 
 when we were alone together in my chamber, 
 whither Juliet accompanied me previous to re- 
 tiring to her own— she threw herself weeping into 
 my arms, exclaiming, " It has cut me to the very 
 soul to be treated thus !" 
 
 " Every circumstance proves, my dear friend," 
 I said, " that Lord Frederick was totally unworthy 
 of the love with which you once regarded him." 
 
 "Yes!— fatal, fatal love of mine!" murmured 
 Juliet : then dashing away her tears, she ex- 
 claimed, "But this is weakness on my part!— 
 though heaven be thanked that in his presence I 
 was nerved with all befitting fortitude ! Oh, I 
 already hate that young man as much as I ever 
 loved bim!— and would to heaven that by some 
 means I might triumph over him !" 
 
 I reasoned gently but firmly with Juliet, — ad- 
 vising her always to adopt a demeanour which 
 should lead the noble young profligate to imagine 
 that he had become an object of perfect indif- 
 ference to her : for I knew that if he thought 
 
 otherwise, his ill-conditioned soul would rejoice 
 at the idea that he was an object of such import- 
 ance that a female heart could break on his ac- 
 count. Juliet promised to follow my counsel ; 
 and she retired to her own chamber. 
 
 In the afternoon of the following day, the post 
 brought me a letter conveying the intelligence that 
 my father had arrived in London, and that ho 
 would meet me according to the appointment set- 
 tled by myself in the letter by which I had sum- 
 moned him to England. At about seven o'clock 
 in the evening — when the Normans had set out for 
 the theatre— I repaired to St. James's Park; for 
 I had appointed ab the scene of our meeting the 
 very same spot where some seven months back his 
 safety had been for a moment so seriously com- 
 promised by the presence of Edwin St. Clair. It 
 being now the month of September, it was grow- 
 ing dark at the hour when I entered the Park ; 
 and I was just thinking to myself how different 
 were the circumstances in which I was now about 
 to meet my father from what they were on the 
 previous occasion, and how triumphantly he might 
 now defy the malignity of any such being as St. 
 Clair, when this object of my thoughts suddenly 
 appeared advancing towards me. 
 
 Yes— it was Edwin St. Clair, who was walking 
 slowly at first — but who on recognising me, despite 
 the gloom of the evening and the thick veil that I 
 wore, at once quickened his pace. I did not 
 choose to avoid him ; or perhaps I should rather 
 say that I knew the attempt would be fruitless; — 
 and t'aerefore I continued my way without swerv- 
 ing from it. 
 
 In a few moments we met; and Captain St. 
 Clair said, " The encounter is a fortunate one. I 
 had wished for an opportunity to see Miss Percy, 
 and express the immensity of my gratitude for 
 that boon which she has doubtless been instru- 
 mental in bestowing upon me." 
 
 At first he spoke with a monotonous coldness : 
 but a degree of bitterness speedily infused itself 
 into his accents; and the concluding portion of 
 his speech indicated a deep, fierce, concentrated, 
 savage hatred. 
 
 "You will permit me. Captain St. Clair," I said, 
 " to pursue my way. I have nothing to hear from 
 
 your lips " 
 
 "Yes — but by heaven you shall hear me!" he 
 
 vehemently exclaimed. " Doubtless you imagine 
 
 that this is your period for triumph, and that 
 
 having helped to wed me to the gipsy Zarah— — " 
 
 " Who has told you, sir," I demanded, " that I 
 
 interfered " 
 
 " Facts speak for themselves !" he interrupted 
 me. "Beda achieved Zarah's deliverance from 
 the lunatic-asylum ; and Beda is in your service. 
 Will you now dare deny that you were more or 
 less Zarah's accomplice? But do not think, Ellen 
 Percy, that all these combined schemes will either 
 tend to break my heart or to divert me from any 
 purposes that I may have in view. Doubtless you 
 have comprehended why Edwin St. Clair appears 
 proud and happy with his bride before the world ! 
 Yes, you musi comprehend it — for you know me 
 well enough to fathom that truth! But if I no 
 longer live to love you, Ellen, 1 can live for re- 
 venorfi ; — and rest assured that I will accomplish 
 it ! Yes — revenge against all who have been in 
 any way implicated in dealing me this blow 1 Call
 
 ELLEN PERCT; OK, THE HEM0IE3 OP AJf ACTUESS. 
 
 H87 
 
 upon Mrs. St. Clair, if you will " — and Lis lips 
 sent forth the bitter laugh of scorn as be thus 
 alluded to his wife, — " call upon her if you will, 
 and ask if she be happy ? Perhaps to your ears 
 she will reveal that truth which to the world she 
 must not proclaim. Ob, if there be a heart to be 
 broken beneath my roof, rest assured that such 
 heart is not mine ! And as for yourself, the time 
 must come, Ellen, when you will bitterly, bitterly 
 repent that you ever connived at the mischief 
 which has been wrought me !" 
 
 *' Let me pass. Captain St. Clair," I said, grow- 
 ing somewhat alarmed— for the obscurity of the 
 evening was deepening around us, in consequence 
 of the mist that rose from the ornamental water. 
 " If you dare detain me, I will appeal to the park, 
 keepers for protection." 
 
 "No," responded Si. Clair firmly: "there are 
 reasons which prevent Miss Percy from clinging 
 to the belief that I am so completely iu her power 
 as some antecedent circumstances may have led 
 her to imagine. She must doubtless experience 
 too strong a feeling of friendship for Mrs. St. 
 Clair to permit her to do that lady's husband any 
 harm :" — and here again there was a terrible 
 sarcasm and a withering irony in his tone. " Ee- 
 sides," continued St. Clair, "you know that I am 
 acquainted with a secret which vitally concerns 
 you " 
 
 "Ah! that secret!" I ejaculated, through a 
 feeling of joyousness at the conviction that it 
 could be held in terror over me no longer. " But 
 let me pass, sir !" I authoritatively added : " your 
 conduct is as cowardly as it is insolent thus to de- 
 tain me for the mere purpose of listening to the 
 threats which flow from your lipsi" 
 
 " One word more — and only one word I" ex- 
 claimed St. Clair. " You must not leave me with 
 the impression that I am in your power " 
 
 "What!" I cried indiguantly ; "not in my 
 power when your wickednesses are so nume- 
 rous " 
 
 "It may be so," he quietly interrupted me: 
 "but you will not expose them ! I feel convinced 
 that I was often frightened by you without a real 
 ground for my apprehensions." 
 
 "Whatsoever you may imagine upon the sub- 
 ject. Captain St. Clair," I answered, " will not 
 alter the actual facts. Wherefore do you molest 
 xne P I have shown immense forbearance towards 
 you ; and if you would but pursue your own path- 
 way in the world, rest assured that I should never 
 seek to cross it. But if you dare revive your fearful 
 machinations against me, on no consideration will 
 I hesitate to wield the numerous weapons which 
 circumstances have placed in my hands. Oh ! 
 when I think of all you have done, I am aston- 
 ished at my own leniency towards you ! And for 
 the single reason that you have seen how all your 
 intrigues have been baffled, should the conviction 
 strike your mind that heaven in its goodfiess ^rs 
 on my side against you in your wickedness !" 
 
 " We will not argue the point," said St. Clair, 
 who had appeared tu be reflecting deeply for the 
 last few moments. "Pursue your way !" 
 
 With these words, abruptly spoken, he hastened 
 onward, and was quickly lost to my view amidst 
 the deepening gloom. Knowing the man so well, 
 I felt tolerably certain that he would watch me — 
 that he would follow mo stealthily— and that he 
 
 would trust to tUe chapter of accnients to puice 
 me by some means in his power ; so that 1 was 
 frightened to proceed : for though I had about me 
 the precious document containing my father's 
 pardon, yet I was very far from desiring a scene 
 of strife or contention with St. Clair upon the spot 
 where I was to meet my parent. For if such were 
 to arise, there might be exposure in the presence 
 of passers-by, I hesitated to continue my way ; 
 and yet I was loth to retreat — my father would 
 be expecting me — the hour of appointment was 
 already past — he might fancy that some accident 
 had befallen me or that his letter had miscarried. 
 
 " After all," I said to myself, " St. Clair can do 
 my father no mischief j and though any scene 
 would be inconvenient, yet I had better risk it 
 than leave my father a prey to doubt and uncer- 
 tainty." 
 
 Besides, I reflected that if St. Clair should 
 happen to meet him, he might give him into cus- 
 tody, — my unfortunate father being the while 
 ignorant that his pardon had been obtained. 
 Then there would indeed bo a fearful exposure 
 and a terrible publicity in respect to my father's 
 secret ! This idea suddenly gave wings to my 
 feet, and I sped onward. Thi mist was becoming 
 so thick that objects a few yards distant could not 
 be distinguished. It was therefore impossible for 
 me to conjecture whether I was being followed or 
 not : but I heard not the sounds of footsteps ; — 
 yet it was in a state of supenseful uncertainty 
 that I pursued my way. 
 
 " Is it not astonishing," I thought to myself, 
 " that this man who knows that I can reveal so 
 much against him, and who must necessarily 
 imagine that I am better informed in respect to 
 the details of the darkest of his antecedent cir- 
 cumstances than I really am,— is it not astonish- 
 ing that he should have the courage and the 
 daring to level his menaces against mo ? Yet did 
 he not say that he had latterly begun to think he 
 was less in my power than he had once fancied 
 himself to be ? Ah ! he supposes that for Zarah's 
 sake I would never go to extremes with him, and 
 that all my past forbearance must have rested 
 upon very strong motives ! And perhaps too, ho 
 is resolved," I added, with an inward shudder, 
 " that the next time he strikes a blow it shall bo 
 a final one, and that my lips shall be silenced for 
 ever at the same moment that his deadly revenge 
 is gratified !" 
 
 This thought filled me with apprehension; 
 for the deepening mist and the deserted park at 
 that hour seemed to aftbrd an opportunity for any 
 treacherous deed, even the darkest and the 
 blackest. I quickened my pace almost into a 
 run ; and in a fe'ff moments I reached the spot 
 where I had appointed to meet my father. A 
 form emerged from amidst the gloom; and the 
 next instant I was clasped in the arms of my 
 parent. 
 
 " Be cautious, dearest father !" I said ; " be 
 cautious !— for through this deep obscurity lis- 
 teners may steal upon us unawares. Let us walk 
 away from the neighbourhood of these shrubs in 
 the midst of which any one may be concealed." 
 
 We accordingly proceeded to a short distance : 
 we stopped in the midst of the gravel-walk close 
 on the brink of the ornamental water, and with 
 only a railing behind us.
 
 " Now, my dear Ellen," eaid my father, in a low 
 but anxious tone, " tell me, wherefore this meet- 
 ing ? Your letter signified that the object was 
 important and far from disagreeable : I gathered 
 likewise that it closely concerned myself " 
 
 " And it does, my dear father !" I whispered. 
 " But hush ! Heard you not a footstep ?" 
 
 "No— it was nothing but the rustling of a dead 
 leaf along the ground. You are frightened— you 
 are nervous, my dear Ellen — " 
 
 " No — not now I am with you !" I interrupted 
 him : then after listening for a few moments, and 
 hearing nothing more to startle me, I went on to 
 say in a low voice, but which was tremulous with 
 emotions, " You have no more to apprehend, my 
 dear father— no one can now injure you !" 
 
 " Good heavens ! what mean you, Ellen ?" he 
 ejaculated, the excitement of his tone proving that 
 he had at once suspected the truth. " Can it be 
 that " 
 
 " It is, dear father, that you are pardoned !" I 
 responded, my heart leaping with joy as I gave 
 utterance to the words. 
 
 "Pardoned !" he wildly echoed, — utterly forget- 
 ing, in the almost frenzied enthusiasm of his rap- 
 tured feelings, my previous caution that he should 
 speak guardedly. 
 
 " Yes," I said, " you are pardoned, dear father. 
 And here is the precious document which dispels 
 all danger from above your head !" 
 
 I produced the sealed packet which I had not 
 as yet opened : but at that very instant a hand 
 clutched it from my grasp — it was not my father's 
 hand — and there was a third person on the spot ! 
 A shriek pealed from my lips — a mocking laugh 
 rang in my ear — and that third person was darting 
 away, when all of a sudden an ejaculation of rage 
 closed that sardonic laugh of his. Then a female 
 came rushing towards the spot, where my father 
 in horrified consternation was supporting me in 
 bis arms; and the precious packet was thrust 
 back again into my hand. 
 
 "God bless jou, Zarah!" I exclaimed, catching 
 a glimpse of her countenance : but in a moment 
 she disappeared again. "Take it, father!" I 
 cried : " secure it about your person !— you know 
 how much depends upon it !" 
 
 I then hurried bim away from the spot. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 THE GTJILTT LATVTEB. 
 
 The entire scene which closed the preceding 
 chapter, took place with whirlwind rapidity ; the 
 document was lost and restored all in the space of 
 three or four instants ; and during this interval the 
 feelings of both my father and myself were hur- 
 ried through every variation of terror, dismay, sur- 
 prise, and joy. To my parent however the whole 
 proceeding was utterly incomprehensible ; for he 
 had not recognised the villain St. Clair in the in- 
 dividual who had snatched away the document. 
 Indeed he had appeared and disappeared with a 
 ghost-like rapidity. 
 
 I gave him some few brief explanations, — to the 
 efi'ect that Iho reason why I was so agitated and 
 nervous when I first joined him was because I 
 
 had just before encountered Edwin St. Clair— that 
 St. Clair it now was who had snatched away the 
 packet— and that it was his wife Zarah, whom he 
 had very lately married, that had so suddenly and 
 unexpectedly restored it to us. My father listened 
 in astonishment, as well he might : but I quickly 
 turned his thoughts into another channel, by ex- 
 plaining how I had obtained the pardon which he 
 bad about his person. The excitement of that 
 scene by which the document was lost and re- 
 gained in such rapid transitions, having passed 
 away, my father was now overpowered by his feel- 
 ings ; and embracing me fervidly, he sobbed like a 
 child. 
 
 " Dearest, dearest Ellen !" he murmured in 
 broken accents ; " to think that to you I should be 
 indebted for this ! — you whom, through my own 
 selfish fears, I suffered to be plundered of your 
 fortune by the villain Parks—" 
 
 " Do not reproach yourself, my dear father," I 
 said. " Believe me, it was a happy moment when 
 I received this document from the Earl of Car- 
 shalton !" 
 
 " It must have been, Ellen," responded my 
 father ; " for you are a good, kind, loving 
 daughter to me — and the more I contemplate 
 your excellence, the more thoroughly unworthy do 
 I feel of having such a child !" 
 
 " I am fully disposed to be happy, my dear 
 father," I said: "but every self-reproach that 
 comes from your lips only tends to mar the joy of 
 this meeting." 
 
 " For your sake, then, Ellen," he replied, " I 
 will forbear from giving audible utterance to these 
 self-reproaches : but, alas ! for the rest of my life 
 must I make them inwardly ! And now, Ellen-> 
 since through you I have obtained my pardon, and 
 that I feel as if I were a different man, treading 
 upon different ground, breathing a different atmo< 
 sphere— since it has at length been permitted to 
 me to feel myself once more a freeman instead 
 of a shackled slave— the slave of my own heinous 
 crimes " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my dear father," I ejacu- 
 lated, with passionate utterance, " cease this lan- 
 guage which drives me mad 1" 
 
 " Oh, what a wretch I am," he cried, " that 
 even in the very midst of my happiness the 
 iniquity of my life must turn all to bitterness ! 
 Yet pray forgive me, Ellen ! God knows I would 
 not torture your gentle heart! And yet," he 
 added, in a softer tone, " you would perhaps have 
 greater reason for distress and ai&iction if you 
 beheld me callous, indifferent, or plunged only in 
 the rapturous feelings of a selfish joy. But be- 
 lieve me, my beloved daughter, I am an altered 
 man ! Crime stained my life and blighted all my 
 prospects : henceforth at least there shall be peai* 
 tence and atonement. And now know you, Ellen, 
 what are the first uses I shall make of the liberty 
 of action — the freedom from terrorism and intimi- 
 dation, which this pardon has procured for me P" 
 
 " I know but of one use that you will make of 
 it, my dear father," I answered ; " ond thot is to 
 retire into some pleasant but secluded spot, where 
 you may dwell in tranquillity of mind, and where 
 I will often visit you. This is the plan I had 
 settled on your behalf; and I am sure, dear 
 father, that you will be guided by the wishes of 
 the daughter who studies only your wellai-e ?"
 
 ELLEN PEKCT ; OK, THE MEM0IB3 OF AIT ACTEE6S. 
 
 289 
 
 e^ 
 
 
 
 
 " I have two distinct duties to perform," re- 
 joined my father : " and then, Ellen, those once 
 accomplished, I will follow your counsel with the 
 docility of a child. But first and foremost must 
 I compel that villain Parks to restore the fortune 
 of which he and his still more vile mother have 
 plundered you ; and in the second place I must 
 compel Lord Frederick Itavenscli£fe to perform an 
 act of justice to your young friend Juliet." 
 
 " In respect to the latter, my dear father," I 
 answered, " if you really think that you have the 
 power, I would not for the world seek to deter 
 you from such a course. I know that it would be 
 making a seemingly ungrateful use of the pardon 
 which the Earl of Carshaltoa has procured for 
 you, to force his son into an alliance which could 
 be but little agreeable to that proud family : but 
 still justice must take its course — and the outraged 
 feelings of a too confiding and much wronged girl 
 must be considered in preference to the patrician 
 No. 37.— EiiLEir Pekct. 
 
 prejudices of the Earl and Countess of Carshalton. 
 Yet think you that without the exposure of your- 
 self, you could interfere in a matter so delicate^ 
 involving so many difficulties " 
 
 " At least, Ellen," interrupted my father, " it is 
 my duty to make the attempt — and that duty shall 
 be performed. Leave me to conduct the enter- 
 prise according to my own judgment. In respect 
 to the other affair, my mind is equally resolute. 
 To-morrow you and I will together visit Mr. 
 Parks " 
 
 " This ia a matter, father," I interrupted him, 
 " in which you cannot and must not interfere. A 
 man who, like Mr. Parks, has perpetrated crime to 
 obtain possession of wealth, will cling to it with 
 the utmost tenacity : he will dare you to do your 
 worst— he will fight the battle with every weapoa 
 which the law can furnish ; and you, my dear 
 father, with your own uncorroborated evidence— 
 with your unsupported testimony Besides," I
 
 290 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3. 
 
 suddenly exclaimed, " this would prove an under- 
 taking in which the exposure of all that concerns 
 you must become inevitable !— and I would sooner 
 see a thousand fortunes slip from my grasp than 
 that we should arrive at such a dreadful catas- 
 trophe !" 
 
 " Nevertheless, Ellen," responded my father, "I 
 say, as in the other case, that it is my duty to 
 make the attempt— and that duty shall be per- 
 formed. Great villains are sometimes terrified 
 when the thunder- cloud lowers above their heads 
 and threatens to break. At all events, perhaps 
 Parks may be driven into a compromise; and that 
 were better than a total abandonment of all your 
 just rights. We will see to-morrow what can be 
 done. Best assured however that for yoti^r sake 
 far more than for mine own, I would avoid every- 
 thing that might tend to produce an exposure. 
 You, my child, have already been sufficiently 
 humiliated in your own secret thoughts on your 
 father's account:— you shall not be humiliated 
 publicly ! Ihink you there is any danger of that 
 villain St. Clair proclaiming to the world whatso- 
 ever he knows concerning me, and all that he may 
 have heard passing between us ere now when like 
 an apparition through the mist he stole on us un- 
 awares ?" 
 
 " I do not apprehend the slightest danger on 
 that head," was my response. " St. Clair fights 
 bis battles secretly ; and like the bravo he stabs in 
 the dark. Doubtless, if he had ere now succeeded 
 in carrying off that precious document, he would 
 have given such immediate information as would 
 have visited you, my dear father, with a terrible 
 calamity, and would have led to exposure before it 
 could have been ascertained that the pardon "was 
 really amongst the records at the Home Office. 
 But now that he has failed he will remain tranquil 
 at least for a time," I added with a sigh, as I 
 remembered all his wicked threats. " However, 
 let us not think of him ;— but pray bear in mind, 
 my dear father, that there is every reason why you 
 should conduct all your proceedings with f je ut- 
 most circumspection, so as to avoid exposure." 
 
 My father reiterated the assurance that he 
 would observe all possible caution j and I then pro- 
 ceeded to inform him that I had written to Mrs. 
 Oldcastle to acquaint her that his pardon had been 
 procured — for I had already by letter made him 
 aware that in her I hao Jou.nd a relative. 
 
 "But you have kept her in ignorance of every- 
 thing that regards my fatal complicity with the 
 treacherous part that was played to your friend 
 poor Juliet P" — and my father spoke anxiously and 
 rapidly. 
 
 " Yes," I answered : " I have not suffered Mrs. 
 Oldcastle to learn that you have passed by the 
 name of Croft. I would not for the world that 
 either she or the !N'ormans should suspect " 
 
 "Enough, my dear child!" interrupted my 
 father : " I know that you are all carefulness and 
 caution on these points. But that name of Croft, 
 I shall bear it no longer ! At the same time, 
 Ellen, I will not resume my own name. It has 
 been tarnished by the incidents of my past life ; 
 and moreover, as you have promised to see me from 
 time to time in whatsoever seclusion I may retire 
 to, when the important duties which I have on 
 hand shall be accomplished, it will be necessary to 
 adopt such measures as to prevent it from becom- 
 
 ing known or suspected that I am your father. 
 You must pursue your brilliant career without 
 sustaining injury from such a kinship : in short, 
 my dear child, it must never be known to the 
 world that I am your father ! Pray give utter- 
 ance to no remonstrance — advano« no argument 
 against this decision on my part. Yet will 1 take 
 a name which belongs to the family, and which 
 may enable me to pass as your uncle. It is the 
 maiden name of your deceased mother — that of 
 Forsyth." 
 
 I said not a word in reply to this announce- 
 ment; for I could not help thinking that for a 
 variety of reasons it was a prudential resolve to 
 which my father had just come. By this time we 
 had made the circuit of the ornamental water— 
 we had left St. James's Park and were walking in 
 the Green Park. "We were therefore in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Piccadilly ; and my father said to me, 
 " T have kept you long enough, Ellen, away from 
 your home on the present occasion ; and you must 
 return thither. To-morrow, as I have already 
 intimated, we will call together upon Mr, 
 Parks " 
 
 " Por many reasons, my dear father," I inter- 
 rupted him, " I would sooner avoid that man and 
 that house." 
 
 '•'Oh! I have not forgotten, Ellen," he ex- 
 claimed, " what you told me at Eaibledon on that 
 memorable occasion when I announced myself as 
 your father. The villain Parks had used threaten- 
 ing language to you — he had sought likewise to 
 accomplish your dishonour by handing you over 
 into the power of this still greater villain St. 
 Clair ; and. Oh ! I long to punish both for their 
 misdeeds. But the punishment of the wretch 
 Parks is perhaps nearer at hand than you may 
 suppose. It is necessary, my dear girl, that you 
 should do some little violence to your feelings by 
 accompanying me into his presence to-morrow, — 
 inasmuch as you will have to corroborate much 
 that I myself shall have to proclaim." 
 
 My father then made an appointment for our 
 meeting on the morrow : he put me into a cab in 
 Piccadilly ; and we separated. I reached Hunter 
 Street in safety — reflecting the whole time upon 
 everything that had taken place between my 
 father and myself, — wondering what course he 
 would pursue in respect to Lord Frederick Ra- 
 venscliffe — and also wondering what would be 
 the result of his intended visit to Mr. Parks. 
 
 On the following day, punctually at eleven 
 o'clock, I entered the fashionable "West End 
 square in which Mr. Parks resided ; and I was 
 immediately joined by my father, according to the 
 appointment made on the preceding evening. 
 
 " Sustain your courage, my dear Ellen," he said: 
 " be not intimidated by anything that Parks may 
 hold out in the shape of menace. He will fancy 
 that he knows the point in which our cause is 
 weak — I mean the fear of exposure : but we must 
 deal with him as if we ourselves had already made 
 up our minds in that respect, and as if we were 
 determined to make any sacritice in order to ob- 
 tain possession of that whereof ha has defrauded 
 you." 
 
 By the time my father had finished giving these 
 instructions, we reached the lawyer's mansion 
 "We did not enter by the door communicating 
 with the clerks' office, and which was distinct from
 
 ElLEJr PEECT; OE, the MBM0IE8 OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 291 
 
 the private entrance : but we knocked at the 
 latter. The summons waa answered by the foot- 
 ttiAa in his handsome livery ; and as he knew me, 
 he said, " I know. Miss, that master is very much 
 engaged at the moment ; but I am sure he will 
 Bee you :" — and then the man looked as if he 
 wondered why so long a time had elapsed since I 
 last visited at that house. 
 
 My father and myself were conducted up into 
 the sumptuously-furnished drawing-room ; and the 
 footman said, '•' What name shall I take in ad- 
 dition to that of Miss Percy ?" 
 
 " It is not necessary to take any name," an. 
 swered my father. " Have the kindness merely to 
 say that Miss Percy and a gentleman desire an 
 immediate interview with Mr. Parks." 
 
 The footman withdrew ; and in a few minutes 
 the lawyer came bustling into the room. He was 
 no doubt a6 a loss to imagine what business had 
 brought me thither and how he himself would be 
 received by me : he therefore, with characteristic 
 hardihood and impudence, assumed an off-hand, 
 self-possessed, familiar manner, as he advanced 
 towards me, exclaiming, " Well, I am glad you 
 have found your way once more to ray house ; and 
 I hope that we now meet on better terms than 
 when " ! 
 
 But here he suddenly stopped short; for my 
 father, who had been standing with his face to- 
 wards the window, and consequently with his 
 back towards him, now suddenly turned round ; j 
 and nothing could exceed the astonishment, min- { 
 gled perhaps with some degree of dismay, which i 
 seized upon the attorney. But quickly recovering ! 
 his self-possession, he exclaimed, " Ah ! what am I , 
 to understand by seeing you two together ?" | 
 
 " You are to understand, Mr. Parks," replied 
 my father, advancing straight up to the lawyer 
 and confronting him with a stern decisive expres- , 
 siou of countenance, " that the day for mystery ' 
 has gone by — as well as for all wickedness and 
 misdeed which might in any way have associated 
 itself with the mystery, either ou your part or on 
 mine. Ellen knows that she is my daughter : she 
 knows likewise that she was rightfully the heiress 
 of her grandfather's wealth : and she has come to ^ 
 demand an account of your stewardship." j 
 
 For a moment Mr. Parks became deadly pale ; | 
 and he started slightly — while as if with an effort | 
 he repressed the stronger spasm which shook him ! 
 inwardly. He glanced at me; and regaining all 
 his hardihood, he said, pointing to my father, " I 
 suppose, then, that you know everything which re- ] 
 lates to him ?" 
 
 " Yes— I know everything !" I exclaimed, my 
 cheeks colouring with indignation at the insolent, 
 supercilious manner ia which ho alluded to my 
 paren^. 
 
 " Oh, you know everything ?" ejaculated Mr. 
 Parka. " Well, then, you must be as much asto- 
 nished as I am at the boldness of his coming to 
 me in such a stylo:" — then advancing towards 
 the bell-pull, he took it in his hand, and said, 
 with a look of menacing significancy, " If I ring 
 this, you know, it will be to summon the officers 
 of justice to clear the room of at least one person 
 who is in it ?" 
 
 " Summon whomsoever you will," replied my 
 father, with a look and tone which at once dis- 
 concerted Mr. Parks. " I should not have come 
 
 hither unless in the full confidence that I am 
 stronger than the enemy whose camp I am in- 
 vading—aye, and in a position to set him at de- 
 fiance." 
 
 " What — what does all this mean ?" faltered 
 out Parks, again becoming pale, while his hand 
 dropped from the bell.pull. " You don't mean mo 
 to understand " 
 
 " I mean you to understand," interrupted my 
 father, " that I once again breathe in freedom and 
 in safety the atmosphere of my native land. 
 Summon hither the officers of justice, if you will: 
 but," he added significantly, "it is not I whom 
 they will bear away ! 3I_if crime has been expiated 
 by years of punishment and of suffering ; and I 
 am pardoned ! Tour crime has yet to be atoned 
 for — privately, if you will, and without exposure — 
 but publicly, and in a manner terribly signal, if 
 you hesitate to do this injured girl the justice 
 which you owe her." 
 
 " It is all very fine on your part," exclaimed Mr. 
 Parks, assuming a look and attitude of defiance, 
 " to come here thinking to bully me into some- 
 thing — I know not what : but I can see through 
 the trick ' 
 
 " Behold !" exclaimed my father ; and he pro- 
 duced from his pocket the official document pro- 
 claiming his pardon : but at the same time he 
 took care that the villain Parka should not have 
 an opportunity of snatching it from his hand. 
 
 "Well, and what then?" exclaimed the attor- 
 ney, who had again looked discomfited, but who 
 quickly recovered, if not his self-possession, at 
 least an insolent hardihood that served him as a 
 substitute. " You have got your pardon, and so 
 much the better for you. But I don't suppose 
 that either of you would be very well pleased for 
 the facts of the case to be made public and for all 
 the newspapers to prochiiii — -■" 
 
 " Stop, Jklr. Parks !" interrupted my father, 
 calmly and decisively : " this turn will not serve 
 you. Make what exposure you will— but you 
 shall not the less disgorge this defrauded girl's in- 
 heritance. You may tell the whole tale, and she 
 will abandon her profession in consequynce : but 
 the fortune to which she ia entitled, and which with 
 all accumulations of interest and compound in- 
 terest you shall surrender up, will serve her as a 
 handsome maintenance. Moreover, Mr. Parks, 
 ! since exposure is to be the order of the day, there 
 ' can be no earthly reason why we should have any 
 consideration for you." 
 
 1 Thus speaking my father advanced towards the 
 nearest; window ; and placing his hands to the 
 sash, made a motion as if he were about to raise it. 
 
 " Come now — what the deuce are you going to 
 do?" ejaculated the lawyer, who was evidently 
 i frightened. " Let you and me talk this matter 
 over in the next room." 
 
 j '•' No, sir !" responded my father : "everything 
 
 i that is said or done shall bo in the presence of my 
 
 daughter. You asked me what I was about to do 
 
 1 — and I will tell you," he continued, his band still 
 
 i upon the window-snsh. " You behold the police- 
 
 I man who is coming this way round tho Square : it 
 
 ia my intention to summon him to take into cua- 
 
 I tody a man whom I shall charge with forgery, 
 
 fraud, and embezzlement," 
 
 " Don't be so foolish ! Miss Percy— I beg of 
 you— Ellen, my dear girl "
 
 292 
 
 ElLESr PEECT : OH, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE9S. 
 
 " Dare not, sir," I indignantly exclaimed, " ad- 
 dress mo iu that familiar strain ! You know futt 
 well, Mr. Parks, whether I have wrongs to com- 
 plain of at your hands, — wrongs which consist not 
 merely of the plunder of my fortune !" 
 
 " Speak, sir !" cried my father : " will you drive 
 me to extremes ? The constable is now under the 
 window." 
 
 "By heaven!" ejaculated Parks, his counte- 
 nance now white as a sheet, " it will bo a war to 
 the knife ! — the exposure on both sides will be 
 terrific!" 
 
 " Your answer, sir ? Quick ! quick !" exclaimed 
 my father : and he threw up the window-sash. 
 
 " In the name of God, don't expose me !" said 
 the miserable wretch, in a tone of the most earnest 
 entreaty J and nothing could exceed the ghastly 
 horror of his looks. " I will do everything I can 
 
 —I will restore But for God's sake shut that 
 
 window !" 
 
 " You have promised," said my father } " and I 
 rely upon the fulfilment of your pledge. If you 
 fail to keep it, rest assured that I will inexorably 
 invoke the aid of justice." 
 
 Thus speaking, my father closed the window ; 
 and Parks, i\pw utterly overpowered by the agony 
 of bis feelings, sank upon a chair. There he re- 
 mained for some minutes, a most piteous and 
 abject spectacle — his countenance ghastly pale — 
 his lips quivering — his eyes staring in wild va- 
 cancy. My father flung upon me a significant 
 look, as much as to imply that the victory was 
 our own, and that we should succeed in com- 
 pelling the villanous attorney to disgorge his ill- 
 gotten possessions. 
 
 " Now listen to me, Mr. Parks," said my father, 
 at length breaking the silence which had for some 
 minutes prevailed. " It is idle to suppose that 
 you have retained the original will which the de- 
 ceased Mr. Forsyth made in his granddaughter's 
 favour, and which fell into the hands of your 
 mother. But you forged another will ; and that 
 was doubtless for precisely the same sum as the 
 original. Your mother proved and administered 
 to the forged will — the record can be examined — 
 we are already aware that Mr. Forsyth died worth 
 somewhere about thirty thousand pounds — but 
 that record to which I allude will furnish the 
 exact amount " 
 
 "It was thirty thousand pounds," said Parks, 
 in a voice so changed, so hollow, so sepulchral, 
 that I started ; for it struck me at the instant as 
 if it were a voice coming up from the very tomb 
 itself. 
 
 " Thirty thousand pounds," repeated my father. 
 " And you have doubtless doubled that amount — 
 you are exceedingly rich, Mr. Parks— and you will 
 experience no difficulty in raising the sum within 
 a few days. Name your own timej but let the 
 interval be brief— let there be no subterfuge nor 
 delay — or you will find that you have to deal with 
 one who in proving merciless will thereby avenge 
 past injuries of every description. And in respect 
 to the whole transaction itself, you must expect to 
 be treated by us as we shall find ourselves treated 
 by you. If you proclaim to the world aught that 
 may prejudice my daughter's interests — for I 
 myself have none save those which are centred in 
 her — we on our side shall scarcely hesitate to give 
 equal publicity to the fact that Mr. Parks, the 
 
 eminent solicitor, has been fattening on the pro- 
 duce of forgery and fraud of the most heinous de- 
 scription. Now, sir, name your own day — your 
 own hour — when you will be prepared to surren- 
 der up to my daughter the fortune of which she 
 was dispossessed by the iniquity of your mother 
 and yourself." 
 
 The miserable attorney— a more abject spectacle 
 than ever in human form had met my eyes- 
 gasped forth a few words to the efifect that on 
 that day week, and at the same hour, he would be 
 prepared to comply with my father's demand ; 
 and then he literally moaned in the bitterness of 
 his anguish. 
 
 " Come, Ellen," said my father : and taking me 
 by the hand, he led me from the apartment. 
 
 When we quitted the house, my father began 
 pouring forth the most fervid congratulations at 
 the prospect of the wealth which was so soon to 
 shower itself upon me : but the entire closing part 
 of the scene had acted on my mind with the in- 
 fluence of a bewildering consternation — so that I 
 conld scarcely fancy that it was otherwise than a 
 dream. At length I gradually awoke as it were 
 to the consciousness that it was all a reality ; and 
 then I was lost in stupendous dismay at the fear- 
 ful guilt of which the late Mrs. Parks and her 
 son had been culpable. Though from my father's 
 lips at Embledon I had heard the announcement 
 of this guilt, yet it had always seemed vague and 
 visionary to me, until this moment when it was so 
 incontestably proved. It was some time before I 
 regained the power of utterance ; and when I 
 began to thank my father for the course which he 
 had adopted, he cut me short by observing, " We 
 must not be seen too much together, Ellen. Fare- 
 well for the present, my dear girl. I will write 
 to you when next we are to meet." 
 
 We then separated ; and I returned to Hunter 
 Street, still more or less under the influence of 
 consternation and wonderment at the scene which 
 had taken place. 
 
 CHAPTEE LI. 
 
 HTDE PAEK. 
 
 Feeling somewhat unsettled in my mind — 
 though far from unhappily so — iu consequence of 
 all that had occurred, I could not compose myself 
 to reading or any of my usual avocations; and 
 therefore, after luncheon, I proceeded to the West 
 End of the town to make a call or two, in order 
 to divert my thoughts from dwelling too much 
 upon one train of ideas. The first visit that I 
 thus purposed to pay was at the mansion <)£ the 
 Marquis of Campanella; and on arriving there, I 
 found that the Marquis and Marchioness them- 
 selves had gone on an invitation to Windsor 
 Castle, and that the Countess of Carboni was just 
 sitting down to write a note to the effect that she 
 was all alone in the house and that she should be 
 glad to see me. Accident had therefore willed it 
 that my visit should be exceedingly well-timed ; 
 and after some little conversation, I3eatrice pro- 
 posed that we should take a drive in the Park. I 
 readily assented— the carriage was ordered — and 
 to the Park we repaired.
 
 EMEN PEECT; OK, THE MEM0IE3 OP a:S ACTEESS. 
 
 293 
 
 I way here observe that six months had now 
 elapsed since those memorable events which had 
 so clearly demonstrated the innocence of Beatrice 
 di Carboni, and since the disappearance of her 
 husband. During this interval she had heard 
 nothing more of the Count : all trace of him 
 seemed to have been lost ; and whether he had 
 actually retired from the world into some deep 
 seclusion, or whether he were wandering about a 
 forlorn and desolate being, it was scarcely possible 
 to conjecture, — unless indeed the assurance which 
 he had given the English solicitor could be relied 
 upon, that retirement from the busy scenes of life 
 was veritably his intention. But still Beatrice could 
 scarcely bring herself to the idea that a man of 
 so restless a disposition and of such strong and 
 excitable feelings could calm himself down into 
 that temperament which was appropriate to the 
 secluded existence of an anchorite. 
 
 On reaching the Park, we made the tour of the 
 carriage-drive; and we then alighted to walk for 
 a little while. Although it was the month of 
 tseptember, and " the world of fashion " had for 
 the most part gone out of town, yet there was 
 more than the usual number of equipages, eques- 
 trians, and pedestrians than might have been ex- 
 pected at that autumnal season of the year. The 
 Countess and myself had not walked together 
 many minutes, before I was startled by seeing an 
 individual whose countenance was at once recog- 
 nised by me, pass us hastily by. This was none 
 other than Luigi, the treacherous Italian valet 
 who had been the author of all the misfortunes 
 that had overtaken the Countess. He was pro- 
 ceeding swiftly at the moment — but whether it 
 were because he had recognised us, and was 
 anxious to avoid observation, I could not tell ; for 
 he seemed to be looking straight forward, as if not 
 perceiving us at all. Beatrice happened to be 
 glancing at the moment at a troop of equestrians 
 who were dashing past; and I instantaneously 
 resolved not to mention to her the circumstance 
 which had just startled me, for fear lest it should 
 arouse bitter and painful feelings in her bosom. 
 
 We continued our way ; and presently, when 
 in the neigbourhood of the Achilles statue, I dis- 
 cerned, at a little distance in front, a couple whom 
 I recognised at a glance, though their backs were 
 towards us. These were Captain and Mrs. St. 
 Clair. 
 
 Zarah was leaning upon her husband's arm : he 
 was walking with the air of a man who expe- 
 rienced a dignified pride in his handsoaae wife ; 
 and I felt convinced that he thus paraded her in 
 a public resort for the purpose of sustaining the 
 general impression that he gloried in what ho had 
 done, he defied the opinion of the world, he 
 scorned whatsoever superciliousness his marriage 
 might be regarded with — and in short, that he 
 adhered to his policy of making a merit of 
 the necessity which had forced such a wife upon 
 him. 
 
 " You have perhaps heard," I said to Beatrice, 
 "of the alliance of the well-known Captain St. 
 Clair with a lady of gipsy extraction ?" 
 
 "Yes," responded the Countess: "I read some- 
 thing about it in the newspapers — and I heard 
 ray brother-in-law the Marquis expressing his 
 astonishment a day or two ago at the occur. 
 renee." 
 
 " Captain St. Clair and his wife are in front of 
 you," I said : but I did not think it necessary to 
 add that this gipsy-wife of his was none other 
 than the identical Zarah to whom the Countess of 
 Carboni was so much indebted for having elicited 
 from the lips of Luigi so many facts that were 
 vitally important to herself. 
 
 Scarcely had I pointed out the couple to 
 Beatrice, when a party of equestrians came ca- 
 reering past. These were gentlemen and ladies 
 mounted on beautiful steeds; and amongst the 
 former I at once recognised Colonel Bellew— while 
 amongst the latter I beheld Lady Lilla Essendine. 
 I was now seized with a sudden curiosity to ob- 
 serve how they would treat St. Clair as they 
 rode past. That the unprincipled Belle w had at 
 one time been his creature, I was well aware frora, 
 my own experience on the occasion when ^. Claic 
 had affected to rescue me from the Colonel's 
 power, and which occurrence was followed by the 
 sham-duel. As for Lady Lilla Essendine, that 
 there had been a guilty connexion between herself 
 and St. Clair I had long felt certain. I kne(7 
 that she entertained a burning hatred and fierce 
 vindictiveness towards him, although circum- 
 stances had led them, from an identity of theic 
 sinister interests, to act at times in concert. BuC 
 now, in what manner would St. Clair be treated 
 by that man who was lately his creature— no doubt 
 his paid hireling ? and by that woman who was 
 once the object of his criminal love ? 
 
 Lady Lilla Essendine certainly had an elegant 
 appearance upon horseback. The riding-habit set 
 off her fine tall figure to the most admirable ad- 
 vantage, — displaying all the flowing outlines of 
 that symmetry which was adjusted to a blending 
 of the proportions of the Hebe and the Sylph. 
 Her cheeks — usually pale, though always with an 
 animation of the polished skin — had now a colour 
 upon them, imparted by the exhilaration of the 
 exercise she was taking. She sat with an exceed- 
 ing gracefulness upon the steed, — which, though a 
 somewhat spirited animal, she managed with aa 
 easy expertness. Her statuesque carriage of the 
 head, neck, and bust, which always had something 
 queenly in it, added to the imposing majesty of her 
 present appearance. No one unacquainted with 
 the secrets of her heart — no one but those who 
 had peeped behind the veil which covered the 
 mysteries of her life — could have fancied that a 
 being at once so brilliant, so fascinating to all 
 outward seeming, as well as so amiable in her 
 looks, could possibly possess a soul stained witU 
 crimes as dark as those which had given an infa. 
 mous repute to such fiends in angel shapes as tho 
 Marchioness of Brinvilliers or Lucrezia Borgia. 
 
 But to the thread of my story. St. Clair and 
 his wife were pursuing their way, — he appearing 
 to be conversing with cheerfulness and fond fami- 
 liarity, and she playing her own part as well, by 
 listening and answering as if with a full con- 
 sciousness that she was in reality the pride, the 
 joy, and delight of her husband. The party of 
 equestrians reined in their steeds, when they in 
 the carriage. drive came abreast as it were with 
 Captain and Mrs. St. Clair on the footway. 
 
 " Ah, my dear fellow St. Clair !" exclaimed 
 Colonel Bellew in a loud bantering voice : " play- 
 ing the part of a happy bridegroom, I see ? 'Pon 
 honour, it is delightful and affecting !"
 
 294 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE88. 
 
 " Oh, indeed i is that the gipsy-bride ?" said 
 Lady Lilla Essendine : and her laugh rang mock- 
 ingly with its silvery sounds through the air. 
 
 Indescribable was the look of loftiest disdain 
 which St. Clair for a moment flung upon them. 
 There was no hatred uor vindictiveness in that 
 look : it seemed as if he could condescend to no- 
 thing so low or petty as those sentiments : it was 
 a proud sovereign scorn such as a monarch might 
 have bestowed on the meanest of his subjects. !No 
 one, unacquainted with the secrets of their former 
 connexion, would have for an instant suspected 
 that such had ever been the case. Bellew laughed 
 aloud : the silvery mocking laugh again rang from 
 the lips of Lady Lilla Essendine; and the eques- 
 trian party dashed along upon its way. 
 
 Beatrice and myself were sufficiently near to 
 distinguish everything that thus passed : but the 
 momeutfthe scene was over, I turned abruptly 
 round, hurrying the Countess away in the opposite 
 direction ; for I was already vexed with myself 
 that I should have yielded to that momentary im- 
 pulse of curiosity. I cannot say that I actually 
 pitied Zarah; for I knew full well that she pos- 
 sessed a strength of mind which would render her 
 scornfully indifferent to everything that had just 
 passed. For St. Clair I could of course have no 
 commiseration : but still I should have been un- 
 willing for him to suppose that I possessed a spirit 
 mean or paltry enough to be there, looking on, for 
 the purpose of triumphing over him. However, 
 I felt tolerably well persuaded that he had not 
 observed me; while, as for Zarah, she had never 
 once turned her head sufficiently to look behind 
 her. 
 
 " Captain St. Clair," said Beatrice, "is perform- 
 ing a noble part towards the wife wh'M) through 
 pure affection he has made the sharer o\ his for- 
 tunes. Did you observe, my dear Ellen, the 
 withering, blighting look of scorn which ho flung 
 upon that lady and gentleman ? Their conduct 
 was indeed too bad ; and I wonder that a person 
 of such an interesting appearance as that lady 
 could have shown such bad taste and such un- 
 charitable feelings. But see !" exclaimed Beatrice, 
 glancing back over her shoulder; "Captain and 
 Mrs. St. Clair are now engaged in conversation 
 with a group of ladies and gentlemen, who are 
 evidently treating them both with a marked dis- 
 tinction." 
 
 I also glanced bacV, and perceived that such 
 was the case. I then recollected the observations 
 which Mr. Eichards had made at the theatre— to 
 the effect that while some persons would display a 
 mean and petty contempt for the alliance which 
 St. Clair had formed, others would court himself 
 and his bride from curiosity's sake, as well as on 
 account of his own brilliant position in the world. 
 I now saw that the lessee's shrewd predictions 
 were receiving their fulfilment. 
 
 At the very moment when I thus glanced back, 
 two tall, elderly, and very distinguished-looking 
 personages were parting from Captain and Mrs. 
 St. Clair, — warmly shaking hands with the former, 
 and with marked courtesy raising their hats to the 
 latter. These two gentlemen came on, arm-in-arm, 
 in the same direction which Beatrice and I were 
 now pursuing. As they walked quickly, they soon 
 overtook us : but they lingered a little while be- 
 Linii, slackening their pace in proportion as their 
 
 conversation grew more and more interesting to 
 themselves : then they passed us ; but when in 
 front, thoy still remained for some few minutes 
 longer sufiiciently near for the Countess and me 
 to catch all that they were saying. I will place 
 upon record as much of their discourse as thus 
 reached our ears. 
 
 " Well, never mind the folly of the thing," said 
 one of the two personages: "it suited us ex- 
 tremely well to flatter St. Clair by overwhelming 
 him with such marked civilities, and by paying 
 such distinguished attention to his wife. It came 
 all the more opportune, immediately following on 
 the heels of that little scene — which, by the bye, 
 St. Clair so loftily resented." 
 
 " And what good, my lord, do you expect," 
 said the other individual, " will result from our 
 
 demeanour " 
 
 " Why, my dear fellow, don't you see ?" ex- 
 claimed the first speaker, who was evidently a 
 nobleman, " we are now sure of St. Clair ! It is 
 of no use his affecting to ride the high horse— he 
 mustieel that he has placed himself in a false posi- 
 tion. Besides, as he his married this gipsy 
 through love, he will naturally be well pleased that 
 she should be received into the highest society. 
 To-morrow I will invite St. Clair to dinner ; and 
 her ladyship " — thus alluding to his wife — " shall 
 call upon Mrs. St. Clair." 
 
 " But do you really think it possible," asked his 
 companion, " that St. Clair is a man to be won 
 over by such means ?" 
 
 " I am convinced of it ! At all events you shall 
 see. His independence of all party has hitherto 
 rendered his opposition — when he lias opposed us— 
 all the more powerful in its effects. You must un- 
 derstand, my dear fellow, that to gain him en- 
 tirely to our side would be a great card in our 
 hand. Wo might offer him a Treasury Secre- 
 taryship — or the Vice-Presidency of the Board of 
 Trade — or something of that sort. I will throw 
 
 out a hint when he dines with me " 
 
 This was all of the discourse which reached the 
 cars of the Countess of Carboni and myself : but 
 it was intelligible enough. Those were two Cabinet 
 Ministers : the Cabinet itself was known to bo 
 tottering : public opinion declared that it would 
 be unable to meet Parliament at the next Session ; 
 and thus a very pretty little intrigue was just -et 
 afoot to strengthen the decrepit Ministry by means 
 of the unquestionable talent and the brilliant 
 oratory of Edwin St. Clair. 
 
 " You have heard what has passed, my dear 
 Ellen ?" said Beatrice, when the two Ministers 
 were beyond earshot. " Captain St. Clair's mar- 
 riage will prove the making of him as a great 
 public character." 
 
 I gave some casual reply : but I secretly said to 
 myself, " If St. Clair should trim his bark to the 
 tide which now offers to waft it, he will have, 
 reason to rejoice in his marriage with the obscure 
 gipsy, rather than regard her as his bitterest foe — 
 to persecute her — and to strive to break her heart." 
 Tiie Countess and I now re-entered the carriage ; 
 and we left the Park. She took me as far as 
 Hunter Street, where she set me down : and I bade 
 her adieu. It w.as not until I found myself alone 
 in my own chamber, that I recalled to mind the 
 incident in respect to Luigi. Although the pre- 
 sence of the Italian in the Park might have been
 
 EXLEIf PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 295 
 
 quite accidental, jot on theotber hand I could not 
 help a slight misjiivitig to tho effect that it might 
 be more or less omiuous : for i know how terribly 
 vindictive was his character. He had sought in 
 Italj to wreak the deadliest vengeance upon the 
 unfortunate Beatrice ; and more recently he had 
 endeavoured to vent his vindictive rage upon 
 Zarah, at the moment when he learnt that she had 
 merely played a part in eliciting from his lips the 
 Bccrets of his heart. I almost regretted that I had 
 not mentioned to the Countess his presence in the 
 Park : and I longed for an opportuuity of hinting 
 to Zarah herself that he was in the metropolis. 
 Indeed, I began to think so seriously on tliese sub- 
 jects that I penned a letter to Beatrice, and I was 
 thinking how I should contrive to communicate 
 with Mrs. St. Clair, when the afternoon's post 
 brought me a billet from her. It was to the effect 
 that if by any possibility I could manage to be in 
 the Eegent's Park at one o'clock on the morrow, 
 she would meet me there : but for fear lest her 
 letter should awaken in my mind any apprehen- 
 sions of mischief, she considerately added that it 
 was in no way in reference to aught regarding my- 
 eelf that she wished to see me, bnt simply for the 
 purpose of a little friendly discourse. 
 
 I resolved to keep this appointment; for I felt 
 satisfied that Zarah would so arrange matters that 
 our meeting should pass totally unobserved by her 
 husband; and accordingly, on the following day, 
 1 proceeded to the Regent's Park at the hour 
 unmed. I met Zarah at the spot indicated in her 
 li'tter; and she pressed my baud with the warmest 
 effusion. She looked exceeding well, and in no 
 v.ay as if she were « wife whose heart was break- 
 iug through the secret cruelty of a husband. I 
 ut once began 'oy expressing my warmest thanks 
 for the service she had so recently rendered me in 
 St. James's Park, in baffling the endeavours of 
 her husband to flee away with the precious docu- 
 ment : but she hastened to interrupt me by ex- 
 claiming, " I am so glad to see you now, dear 
 Ellen ! I thought you would feel interested in 
 the circumstances of my position as a wife; and 
 although that position is still a novel one, and but 
 a few days old, yet its experiences are sufficient to 
 show me what I have to expect on the part of my 
 husband." 
 
 " I am indeed interested on the subject, my 
 dear Zarah," I responded. "1 do not ask if you 
 repent the step which you have taken — for I see 
 by your looks " 
 
 " Repent it, Ellen ? Never !" ejaculated Zarah. 
 " Is not my ambition gratified ? is not my vanity 
 flattered ? am I not cradled in luxuries and sur- 
 rounded by all that wealth can purchase? On 
 two or three occasions — even during the short time 
 that I have as jet been a wife — I have expe- 
 rienced haughty and scornful treatment from some 
 of St. Clair's fashionable friends : but I can afford 
 to laugh at and despise such weak and impotent 
 displays. On the other hand there are many of 
 his friends who have flocked around us, anxious to 
 pay their court to him by overwhelming me with 
 attentions : and even yesterday two Cabinet Minis- 
 ters treated me with as much distinction as if I 
 had been the daughter of a Duchess, Ah, by 
 the bye, Ellen ! what think you ? That wretched, 
 wretched creature Lady Lilla Essendine, whom 
 with a breath I could destroy " 
 
 " Frankly, Zarah," I interrupted her, " I saw 
 it all ; for I happened to bo in the Park at the 
 time." 
 
 "And her conduct," continued Zurah, " produced 
 no more effect upon me than the breeze which was 
 passing at the time. Amongst the party with 
 which she rode, was a certain Colonel Bellew — a 
 man of desperate fortunes, and who some while ago 
 was indebted to E'hvin St. Clair, if not actually 
 for the means of subsistence, at least for the set- 
 tlement of those pressing claims which menaced 
 him with a gaol. There was at that period no 
 dirty work which Bellew was not prepared to per- 
 form " 
 
 " I know it," I inwardly thought i but I did not 
 interrupt Zarah. 
 
 " In short," she continued, " he would have done 
 anything for gold : ho was the veriest creature that 
 ever fawned at a master's hand ! But because St, 
 Clair refused a short time back to minister any 
 farther to his extravagances, the wretch has now 
 turned round upon him. Never can I forget the 
 look of lofty scorn which Edwin flung upon that 
 man and Lady Lilla Essendine ! Ob, at the 
 moment I felt proud of him as a husband 1 Yes 
 — I even felt as if I loved him as well as- in former 
 times I loved him !" 
 
 " And now, Zarah," I said, " in reference to 
 those matters which more immediately concern 
 yourself ?" 
 
 "Before the world, and in the presence of his 
 domestics," continued Zarah, " St. Clair treats me 
 as if the tale which you doubtless read in the 
 newspapers, were strictly true ; and mine is a de- 
 meanour calculated to sustain the impression which 
 that ingenious fiction produced. But when we are 
 alone together, St. Clair's look alters, as if he him- 
 self had suddenly disappeared and another being 
 had taken his place. There is all the wickedness 
 of Lucifer in his countenance!— the wickedness of 
 that Satan who is so grandly described by Milton in 
 all the beauty of the fallen angel ! The haughtiest 
 scorn blends fearfully with the most withering 
 contempt: — at least such would be the blight- 
 ing -effect of that look upon any other: but I am 
 unmoved by it. Generally I affect to perceive it 
 not: but if by any circumstance I am compelled 
 to glance towards him, it is with an air of supreme 
 defiance. He does not condescend to give vent to 
 his feelings in reproaches or upbraidings : he 
 doubtless thinks the expression of such bitterness 
 would display a rancour beneath the dignity of a 
 sovereign scorn and a haughty contempt. Besides, 
 words would be overheard ; and it is his object to 
 deceive the world in respect to the true motives of 
 the alliance which he has formed. He may con- 
 tinue, my dear Ellen, to wear his coldly scornful 
 demeanour as long as he likes : he will not thereby 
 break my heart. It must cost him a greater effort 
 to maintain this offensive part, than it costs me to 
 act as it were on the defensive with my own cali)i 
 yet proud defiant looks. We shall see who will be 
 wearied first !" 
 
 " You tell me, Zarah," I said, endeavouring as 
 well as I could to conceal the pain which was oc- 
 casioned me by this fearful description of their 
 married life, — " you tell mo that many of St. 
 Clair's friends have rallied around hiui and are be- 
 coming 2/oui' friends. Do you not think that 
 when the conviction shall dawn in upon him that
 
 296 
 
 ELLEN PBECT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 it is more for your sake than for his own he is 
 thus courted, his heart will soften towards you ? 
 But I will even go farther. What if through this 
 very marriage of his, his ambition were flattered 
 by overtures from Cabinet Ministers themselves ? 
 —would not a sense of gratitude be experienced 
 towards her who would have proved the source, 
 though indirectly perhaps, of this elevation? I 
 will tell you, Zarah — but of course in confidence — 
 precisely on what grounds I put these questions." 
 
 I then explained the discourse that I had over- 
 heard on the previous day between the two Cabi- 
 net Ministers in Hyde Park ; and Zarah's large 
 black eyes grew more luminous than was even na- 
 turally their wont : but I was mistaken in respect 
 to the real cause. It was not that she entertained 
 the hope that her husband's heart would soften 
 towards her : it was because she knew that in pro- 
 portion as his own position became more elevated, 
 her's by the reflection of that light which a hus- 
 band sheds upon his wife would become all the 
 more brilliant. 
 
 " His is a disposition so peculiar — a character 
 so strange," she said, " that it is not to be judged 
 by ordinary rules. Those circumstances which 
 might soften another heart and inspire another 
 soul with gratitude, may pass over him like the 
 breeze which ruflles not the surface of the ocean. 
 But let it be so ! In proportion as he rises in 
 the social sphere, must I necessarily rise with him. 
 If the fortune of a political career should carry 
 him onward to the attainment of a title, I must 
 become the partner of Lis rank. All this, dear 
 Ellen, is happiness enough for me." 
 
 " And now tell me, Zarah," I asked,— " tell 
 me, my good friend — was he very bitter against 
 you for the generous succour you lent me the 
 other night in St. James's Park — when you ap- 
 peared so suddenly — so opportunely " 
 
 " He has not once alluded to the incident,-" re- 
 sponded Zarah. " It seems as if he thought that 
 the conflicts which we may have, are not to be 
 the subjects of discourse," 
 
 "And you overheard," I said, "somewhat of 
 all that was passing between me and— and— my — 
 my " 
 
 " Enough, dear Ellen !" interrupted Zarah : 
 "whatsoever may have tJie?* come to my know- 
 ledge is a secret which I shall ever keep. As for 
 my husband, it is at present a stern but tacit 
 struggle between usj and we shall see who will 
 conquer, he or I." 
 
 I could scarcely repress a sigh : and anxious to 
 leave so painful a topic— for there was something 
 fearfully unnatural in the union of two such 
 beings, — I proceeded to inform Zarah how I had 
 seen Luigi in Hyde Park on the preceding day. 
 
 " That man is vindictive — bitterly vindictive," 
 she said: "but I will take care that he does not 
 work me a mischief." 
 
 After some little more conTersation, Zarah and 
 I separated ; and as I returned homeward, I could 
 not help thinking that she was a being almost as 
 fearful as St. Clair himself, to have espouseJ such 
 a man. She felt how deeply criminal he was : she 
 was acquainted with his misdeeds, — crimes and 
 deeds of which I knew that she herself was utterly 
 incapable : and yet she had married him ! To 
 gratily her ambition she had trampled upon every 
 other consideration— she had conquered all repug- 
 
 nance—she had become the heroine of a drama 
 of real life, infinitely more startling, more terrible, 
 more ominous than any that was ever created from 
 the imagination. 
 
 Three or four days passed, and I heard nothing 
 more of my father : I therefore concluded that he 
 had either failed in falling in with Lord Frederick 
 Bavenscliffe, or that he was preparing some plan 
 which was not as yet sufficiently matured to be 
 put into operation. In the meanwhile great pre- 
 parations were being made at the theatre for the 
 production of Shakspere's historical drama of 
 " Antony and Cleopatra." Some scenes were to 
 be abbreviated — some speeches to undergo the 
 process of expurgation ; and the lessee resolved 
 that the play should be produced with all the 
 grandest effects that scenery and costume could 
 combine to create. As a matter of course, I was 
 to enact the part of Cleopatra ; and Mr. Hichards 
 gave me carte blanche in respect to the ordering 
 of my own costume, which he was desirous should 
 be as suitably rich as possible. On the day when 
 it was brought home to Hunter Street, Juliet, 
 Beda, and myself shut ourselves in my chamber, 
 that I might try on this gorgeous apparel — and 
 likewise that I might practise those postures and 
 attitudes which were consistent with the queenly 
 character I was to assume. Half-reclining upon 
 the sofa — my head supported by the cushions 
 piled up for the purpose — with a diadem on my 
 brow and a sceptre in my hand, I thus took the 
 initiative in my final studies for the part. Juliet 
 and Beda were in raptures ; and I could not 
 silence them in the compliments which they paid 
 me. Indeed, Juliet's glowing language — inspired 
 by the sincerest friendship and fondest love, which 
 rendered her as proud of me as if I were really 
 a sister— brought vividly to my recollection the 
 compliments she had bestowed on that occa< 
 sion when, upwards of eighteen months back, I 
 had first imparted to her my desire to enter upon 
 the stage. And she too remembered the same 
 circumstance : for when I reiterated my request 
 that she would desist from passing such extrava* 
 gant eulogies upon me, she exclaimed, " Oh ! this 
 is not the first time, my dearest friend, that you 
 have endeavoured thus to sUence me. Beda, is 
 not your mistress truly beautiful ?" 
 
 " I love her for her beauty as well as for her 
 goodness," was the girl's response. " One may 
 love even an ugly object : but how much more 
 exquisite is that love when the object is beautiful ! 
 Thus one may prize the utility of some plant : 
 but it is the charming flower which ravishes the 
 gaze." 
 
 " Admirably spoken, Beda !" exclaimed Juliet. 
 " Now really, my dear Ellen, you must not be 
 angry with me if I tell you that this costume 
 shows ofi' your beauty with an effect which no 
 other apparel has ever yet produced. That head- 
 dress of silver brocade throws out the raven glossi- 
 ness of your hair in marvellous contrast. The 
 diadem shines upon your brow : but that magnifi- 
 cent hair of your'e shines with a natural glory all 
 its own !" 
 
 " Juliet, you must not continue thus !" I 
 exclaimed : then laughing good-humouredly, I 
 added, " I will expel you both from my chamber 
 and study these postures by myself." 
 
 " Then who would be enabled to tell you of
 
 ELLEIf PEECY ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 M97 
 
 ELLEN AS "CLEOPATRA." 
 
 their effect, Ellen ?"' asked Juliet, laughing also : 
 and for a long time I had not seen her so really 
 gay and happy. " Kemember, my dear friend," 
 she continued, " you are to perform the part of 
 the voluptuous Egyptian Queen. You must re- 
 cline upon your throne as if it were a bod of roses 
 rather than the sovereign seat around which are 
 gathered the cares of State and Government. 
 Pity were it, dear Ellen, if in a spirit of too much 
 prudery you were to bring this exquisite light 
 robe too high upon your snowy neck " 
 " Enough, Juliet !" I exclaimed, starting up 
 No. 38.— Ellb!? Percy. 
 
 from the sofa. " I see that instead of an assistant 
 or a tutoress, I have in you nothing but a too par 
 tial friend and flatterer." 
 
 On the following evening the theatre was 
 crovfded to excess : hundreds and hundreds failed 
 to obtain admission ; and if it had been twice the 
 size it would still have been crammed in every 
 part. From pit to gallery it was a perfect pave- 
 ment and wall of human faces. The piece had 
 been oast with all the strength of Mr. JElichards' 
 excellent company : no expense had been spared 
 in the costumes or the scenery : all the decora-
 
 298 
 
 BLIEX PESCY; OK, THB MEMOIB8 OF AW ACTKB8S. 
 
 tions and embellishments had been presi'led over 
 with the spirit of taste, judgment, and liberality. 
 Every one behind the curtain was in high spirits ; 
 for a triumphant success was anticipated. 
 
 I will here admit that I had never at the outset 
 entered upon the study of a character with less 
 satisfaction than in respect to this. I could not 
 as it were make it my own. I could not identify 
 myself with it. I knew that in order to render 
 the character effective, I must in some parts throw 
 around it a halo of sensuousness which revolted 
 against my feelings. But I was bound by my 
 agreement with ilr. Eichards to take the part ; 
 and moreover I had assented in the first instance 
 before I had looked very deeply into it. Having 
 therefore no alternative but to appear as the 
 voluptuous Egyptian Queen, I studied and strove 
 for my reputation's sake to achieve a triumph 
 which might not be unworthy of my previous 
 successes; and I confided not to a soul the dis- 
 taste with which I thus prepared for the perform- 
 ance. 
 
 It was arranged in one part of the piece that I 
 should appear half-reclining upon a throne, the 
 immense voluptuous cushions of which rested 
 against a back supported by massive efligies in the 
 veritable Egyptian style. It was for this parti- 
 cular part that I had studied when Juliet so over- 
 whelmed me with her compliments and her flat- 
 teries. And now came the moment when I was to 
 appear in that position. Arrayed in light but 
 elegant apparel — with the diadem upon my head 
 •^with my hair flowing in heavy tresses — decked 
 with all the splendid jewels which I possessed — 
 and holding a sceptre tipped with a star, I as- 
 sumed a half-languid look as I thus reclined 
 against the immense cushions. In contravention 
 of the gaiiy given and gool-humoured advice of 
 Juliet, I drew up the light floating robe as high as 
 possible upon my neck : but at the very instant 
 when the rising of the curtain was about to reveal 
 to me the entire audience, a current of air dis- 
 arranged the robe somewhat, sufficient to display 
 more of my bosom than I deemed consistent with 
 modesty. In a moment I re-arranged the offend- 
 ing drapery ; and at that very instant I caught 
 sight of a tall, elderly, distinguished-looking man 
 who was in the nearest stage-bos, and who had his 
 opera-glass directed towards me. The curtain was 
 already sufficiently high for him to notice the little 
 incident to which I have alluded ; and as he re- 
 moved the glass, the look which he continued to 
 rivet upon me brought the blushes to my cheeks. 
 
 However, this circumstance was soon forgotten 
 amidst the thrilling and triumphant feelings pro- 
 duced by the thunders of applause which greeted 
 me from the crowded audience ; and I resolved in 
 my own mind that I would achieve success in this 
 as in all previous instances. And I did ! When 
 the drama was concluded, I was loudly called for ; 
 and being led upon the stage, I experienced such a 
 reception as defies all description. Bouquets were 
 showered upon me ; and several of them, as I sub- 
 sequently discovered, contained presents of jewels: 
 for I have noticed in a previous chapter that this 
 was one method by which the wealthier orders 
 occasionally testified their approbation of a 
 favourite actress. 
 
 On retiring to my dressing-room, I experienced 
 the warmest congratulations on my success from 
 
 Juliet, her mother, Melissa Harrison, and three or 
 four other ladies of the company who came thither 
 for the purpose. But when all was over — when I 
 had returned to Hunter Street — and when I was 
 alone in my own chamber, my spirits experienced 
 a rapid reaction : a sadness came over me — I felt 
 for the first time as if I were not altogether satis- 
 fied with myself. I thought painfully of the little 
 incident which I have described in respect to the 
 temporary fluttering-away of the drapery from 
 my bosom, and of the devouring looks which that 
 elderly gentleman bad riveted upon me. There 
 seemed to be something immodest and repulsive 
 to the chaste ideas in the mere fact of having ex- 
 posed myself to such an occurrence, — something 
 meretricious, innocent though I really were, in the 
 event as if it looked like an allurement : so that I 
 almost felt as if I were rightly served by the 
 manner in which the gentleman to whom I am 
 alluding had regarded me. And finally, I could 
 not help thinking that if Henry Wakefield had 
 been present, he would rather have seen me ap- 
 pear in any other character than that which I had 
 just been enacting. 
 
 There was no doubt a great deal of prudish 
 fastidiousness in these reflections of mine : for 
 there was no more reason why my real character 
 should become identified or infected with the 
 voluptuousness of Cleopatra's, than that I should 
 be looked upon as a murderess because I was ac- 
 customed to perform the part of Lady Macbeth. 
 But still I could not shake off those disagreeable 
 impressions ; and under their influence I sank 
 into sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE i£AEQUI8 OF TT-VEDAIE. 
 
 Whes I awoke in the morning, it was still par- 
 ; tially under the same influence, though to a much 
 ' less degree than on the preceding night. I de- 
 scended to the breakfast-table, where I found the 
 ; Normans already assembled, and deep in the 
 perusal of the critiques given by the daily papers 
 on the representation of "Antony and Cleopatra." 
 It appeared that I was spoken of in the most rap- 
 turous terms: indeed the leading journals devoted 
 a lengthy disquisition to a complete analysis of 
 my performance of the part of the Egyptian 
 I Queen. They one and all agreed that "it was evi- 
 dent the innate modesty of the young lady herself 
 struggled at times against a due appreciation of 
 i what Cleopatra's character really was ; and though 
 this irresistible domination of a pure and chaste 
 ; mind over the voluptuousness which belonged to 
 I the character, somewhat impaired the truthfulness 
 '■ of the impersonation, yet nevertheless the general 
 i effect was to throw the charm of an exquisite de- 
 I licacy over all." In a word, nothing could be 
 I more flattering to my reputation as an actress or 
 j to my feelings as a maiden than the style in which 
 j these critiques were couched. Again did I receive 
 the warm congratulations of my friends the Nor- 
 mans ; and my spirits rose almost completely over 
 the depressing influence that had lingered behind 
 the reflections of the preceding night. 
 
 It was about noon — and I was in my own
 
 ELLEN PERCY ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 M99 
 
 chamber, when a letter which had just arrived by 
 the post, was brought in to me by Beda. The 
 address was in a masculine hand that was un- 
 known to me ; and the missive was evidently from 
 no private friend, inasmuch as it was directed to 
 Miss Trafford instead of to Miss Percy. Beda 
 retired : I opened the letter— and a paper fell out 
 upon the floor. I picked it up ; and to my asto- 
 nishment I discovered that it was a cheque for five 
 thousand guineas, — the signature being simply, 
 " Ttnedale." It was drawn upon Messrs. Coutts 
 the bankers, and was left payable to hearer, no 
 name having been inserted in the body of the 
 draft. Instantaneously suspecting, even if not 
 completely understanding, what this meant, I felt 
 the hot blood of indignation glowing upon my 
 checks ; and I was on the point of tearing up 
 both cheque and letter, into a thousand pieces, 
 when the thought struck me that at least it would 
 be prudent to assure myself that it was as I fan- 
 cied J for either my conjecture might in some way 
 or another prove erroneous— or the packet itself 
 might have been addressed to me through some 
 mistake. I accordingly curbed my angry impa- 
 tience as well as I was able ; and I commenced 
 the perusal of the letter which had contained the 
 cheque, and the contents of which I found to run 
 as follow : — 
 
 " Tyriedale Lodge, Kensington, 
 " September 18th, 1841. 
 " After an absence of about two years upon the 
 Continent, I returned a few days ago to the 
 British metropolis. The fame of Miss Trafford 
 had reached me in Italy, where I have been so- 
 journing ; and whenever in English newspapers I 
 read an account of her admirable impersonations 
 of dramatic heroines, I always longed for the mo- 
 ment when I should be enabled to witness the 
 display of that transcending genius. Last even- 
 ing my curiosity was gratified. I waa prepared to 
 find that Miss Trafford possessed talents of the 
 highest order : but their brilliancy far outshone 
 even all my highly raised expectations. In the 
 same manner likewise, was I prepared to find that 
 Miss Trafford was beautiful : but no sooner did 
 my looks fall upon her than I discovered that she 
 was infinitely more lovely than even in the wildest, 
 imagining I could have anticipated. But to drop 
 the third person, and address you. Miss Trafford, 
 in a more direct manner, I am at this moment at 
 a loss for language to convey the feelings with 
 which you have inspired me. Being married, 
 though for some years separated from the Mar- 
 chioness, I am unable to take that step which 
 those feelings would otherwise prompt — namely, 
 by beseeching you to grant me your hand and 
 suffer me to conduct you to the altai*. But if yftu 
 will trust yourself to my honour — if you will con- 
 sent to render me happy— your own happiness 
 shall henceforth become my chief, my only study. 
 I am wealthy ; and if riches can ever be ren- 
 dered a proof of devoted love, they shall be show- 
 ered upon your head. The nature of my property 
 is such that I can dispose of the greater portion 
 of it according to my own will and pleasure. All 
 that I can thus dispose of shall be bequeathed unto 
 yourself. From everything that I have heard of 
 your character, I know you to be virtuous ; and I 
 fear that on a first perusal of this letter the flush 
 of anger will rise to your cheeks. But I implore 
 
 and beseech that you will give the subject a calm 
 consideration. It is true that I havo not the at- 
 tractions of youth nor of good looks to strengthen 
 my plea : but I possess a warm heart — and all 
 those worldly advantages of which I can dispose, 
 shall, as I have already said, be entirely your's. 
 That you may know who it ia that is thus address- 
 ing you, I need but allude to a little incident of 
 last evening, which was discerned by some one in 
 a stage-box having an opera-glass at the time ; 
 and I saw that your looks were thrown towards 
 we— for I was that person. 
 
 " Referring to all the good report I have heard 
 of your character, I naturally conceive that if my 
 present appeal should succeed in making any im- 
 pression upon you, you would desire that our con- 
 nexion should be kept as secret as possible. If 
 you decide upon replying favourably to this, I 
 leave every detail and arrangement to yourself: I 
 am anxious to prove your slave in all things. 
 Whatsoever course you may point out shall be 
 strictly and faithfully followed by me ; and what- 
 ever stipulations you may have to lay down shall 
 be most sacredly regarded. Situated as I am, I 
 can say no more than this : I cannot speak more 
 fairly. But I may add that if death should re- 
 move my present wife before its stern hand is laid 
 upon me, joyously and cheerfully should I lead 
 you to the altar to become the Marchioness of 
 Tynedale. 
 
 " As a trivial earnest of my good faith, and as 
 some small proof of the sincerity with which I am 
 inspired in thus addressing you, I enclose a cheque 
 which will be immediately honoured at my 
 banker's without a single question being asked, 
 no matter who may be the bearer of it. And now 
 permit me to subscribe myself 
 
 "Your most devoted admirer, 
 
 " TXNEDALE." 
 
 Such were the contents of the letter which the 
 Marquis of Tynedale had dared to write to me — 
 couching the most insulting and audacious over- 
 tures in the insidious delicacy of a language art- 
 fully constructed and skillfully glossed over. Ah ! 
 I was now invited to become the mistress of the 
 Marquis of Tynedale, — I who might have become 
 the wife of the Marquis of Dalrymple, with the 
 title of Duchess in the perspective I And that 
 cheque for five thousand guineas which he had 
 enclosed, — oh ! again and again did the flush of 
 indignation glow and burn upon my cheeks; and 
 the bosom of which the veteran libertine had acci- 
 dentally caught a glimpse on the preceding even- 
 ing, was now swelling as if it would burst with 
 the sense of my outraged feelings. I was thinking 
 what course I should pursue — whether I should 
 consign letter and cheque to the flames and 
 take no farther notice of the communication — or 
 whether I should return them both in a blank 
 envelope—or thirdly, whether I should pen an in- 
 dignant billet to accompany them, — when the 
 door of my chamber suddenly opened, and Melissa 
 Harrison made her appearance. She had the pri- 
 vilege of thus seeking me at her pleasure in my 
 own private apartment ; for I was always on terms 
 of the most friendly intimacy with her, and she 
 always testified the warmest gratitude for the ser- 
 vices which I had rendered her during the earliest 
 part of our acquaintance.
 
 300 
 
 EILEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP Alf ACTRESS. 
 
 " My dear Ellen," she exclaimed, as she came 
 hastilj towards me, " I could not resist the im- 
 pulse of calling this morning to repeat the con- 
 gratulations which I offered you last night on the 
 occasion of your new triumph — especially after 
 those splendid critiques which I have just been 
 
 reading. But, Ah! my dear friend ! you have 
 
 a strange louk — you are agitated and excited ! 
 Ileaveu grant that no evil intelligence has reached 
 you!" 
 
 I held in my hand the letter and the cheque 
 which I had no time to conceal, sj suddenly did 
 Melissa burst iu upon me : but I was now on the 
 point of thrusting that letter and that cheque be- 
 neath the cushion of the sofa on which I was 
 seated, and of assuring her that nothing bad tran- 
 spired to ruffle nor disturb mo, — when I was 
 suddenly struck by the thought that she would 
 conceive there was something suspicious in the 
 incident. 
 
 " Your cheeks were burning a few moments 
 back, Ellen," she said, surveying me attentively ; 
 " and now they are exceedingly pale. I do hope, 
 my dear friend, that nothing has occurred to 
 annoy you ?" — and she glanced at the letter and 
 the cheque which I held in my hand. 
 
 "Judge for yourself, Melissa," I said, now at 
 once making up my mind how to act. " Sit down 
 and read this letter. Its contents will explain the 
 meaning of the cheque — you will not be surprised 
 that my cheeks were burning with indignation — 
 and you shall give me your advice in respect to 
 the course which I ought to pursue." 
 
 Melissa sat down by my side upon the sofa : I 
 gave her the Marquis of Tynedale's letter; and 
 she read it deliberately and attentively. When 
 she had finished the perusal, she did not immedi- 
 ately make any comment : she reflected for nearly 
 a minute ; and at length she said, " To you, Ellen, 
 it is indeed a flagrant insult : but to almost any 
 one else it would appear in a very different light— 
 and in that different light would be taken." 
 
 " At least I thank you, Melissa," I observed, 
 " for the exception which you have made on my 
 behalf: but I confess that I expected something 
 
 stronger from your lips " 
 
 " My dear Ellen," she exclaimed, " I repeat that 
 to 1/ou it is an insult of the most unpardonable 
 character: it is a monstrous outrage— because all 
 the world knows that your life is as pure as your 
 genius is brilliant. Eut did I not speak truly 
 when I hinted that there is many and many a 
 young female who would succumb to so dazzling a 
 temptation? However, let us speak of yourself. 
 You will of course return the insolent nobleman 
 bis letter and his cheque in the most contemp- 
 tuous manner which you can possibly adopt ?" 
 
 " 1 thought of two or three different plans," I 
 replied : " but that is assuredly the best. You 
 mean, I suppose, that I should return the letter 
 and the cheque in a blank envelope ?" 
 
 " Such is my meaning," answered Melissa 
 "The Marquis of Tynedale will then know pre- 
 cisely the true character of her whom he has 
 audaciously endeavoured to tempt and beguile. 
 If you were to consign his missives to the flames 
 and take no notice of them, he would fancy they 
 bad miscarried, and he would persecute you with 
 fresh correspondence. If, on the other hand, you 
 were to write a letter expressive of your indigna- 
 
 tion, it would serve as an excuse for him to have 
 recourse to his own pen again, and under an apo- 
 logetical semblance renew his overtures in terms 
 still more insidious than these." 
 
 " I agree with you, my dear Melissa," I said, 
 well pleased by the good sense that characterized 
 her reasoning : "the preferable course is to return 
 the letter and the cheque in a blank envelope." 
 
 " And if it please you, Ellen," rejoined Miss 
 Harrison, " I will deliver the letter at Tynedale 
 li' dge : for it happens that I am going straight 
 hence to Kensington. My little girl," she added, 
 in a lower tone, and with a slight flush upon her 
 cheeks, " is now residing with a worthy couple in 
 that neighbourhood — and I am going to see her." 
 
 " You will do me a favour," I rejoined, " by 
 leaving the letter for me as you so kindly propose. 
 I shall be thereby not only assured of its safe 
 delivery — but it will reach the Marquis more 
 speedily than if it were transmitted through the 
 post ; and the sooner he becomes aware of my de- 
 cision, the more thoroughly must ho appreciate 
 the unhesitating scorn and indignation with which 
 his base overtures have been rejected." 
 
 I accordingly enclosed the Marquis of Tyne- 
 dale's letter and cheque in a blank envelope ; and 
 having sealed and addressed it, I consigned the 
 little packet to the care of Melissa. She then took 
 her departure ; and when I was once more alone, 
 I relapsed into that same train of reflection which 
 I had pursued on the preceding night after my re- 
 turn from the theatre. 
 
 " To-morrow," I said to myself, " is the day on 
 which Mr. Parks has promised to surrender me up 
 the fortune bequeathed me by my grandfather. I 
 shall then become entirely my own mistress — I 
 shall be independent of the stage ; and when the 
 time comes it will not be as a dowerless bride that 
 I shall accompany my cousin Harry to the altar. 
 But even if I choose to remain upon the stage, I 
 shall be enabled to dictate such terms to lessees as 
 will leave me a full discretionary power in re- 
 spect to all the characters in which I may choose 
 to appear. Even as the matter now stands, I will 
 not again appear as Cleopatra !" 
 
 Having thus made up my mind on this point, I 
 at once sat down and wrote a firm but perfectly 
 courteous letter to Mr. Eichards, announcing the 
 resolve not to take again the part which I had 
 performed on the preceding night. This letter I 
 sent off to the post ; and I felt as if my mind 
 wore relieved of a weight which had been oppress- 
 ing it. 
 
 It was now two o'clock in the afternoon ; and 
 I had just dressed to go out with the inten- 
 tion of calling upon Lady Cecilia Urban, whom I 
 had not seen for some little time, when I received 
 a note from my father. He therein informed me 
 that he should be in Euston Square at about three 
 o'clock, and that he would like to speak to me for 
 a few minutes, if I could conveniently contrive to 
 bo there. I accordingly proceeded to the place 
 named ; and as it was at no great distance from 
 Hunter Street, I went thither on foot. I looked 
 about, but did not see my father. I walked slowly 
 round the Square ; and presently I was passed by 
 an individual whose appearance struck me as being 
 somewhat singular, so that I could not help fling- 
 ing upon him a second glance. A. mass of light 
 brown cutling hair projected beyond the brims of
 
 ELLKS PEKCY; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AS ACTKESS. 
 
 301 
 
 a bat of a peculiar shape : ho had large bushy 
 whiskers, and a moustac'.ie. lie was dressed in a 
 blue frock coat buttoned up to the chin, and mili- 
 tary grey trousers. Ue carried a cano ; and an 
 eye-glass, suspended round his neck by a black 
 ribbon outside his coat, was stuck in his right eye. 
 My immediate impression was that he must be a 
 foreigner. 
 
 He stared hard at me as I passed, so that the 
 second look which I flung upon him was instanta- 
 neously withdrawn ; and I was continuing my 
 way, when I heard footsteps behind mo— and this 
 singular-looking individual was at once by my 
 side. 
 
 " If yoM did not know me, Ellen," he said, 
 " the disguise must bo an effoctive one." 
 
 Good heaven ! it was my father's voice —and it 
 was ray father himself too! — for I now recognised 
 his features — or rather I should say as much of 
 them as all the false hair which he wore left re- 
 vealed. I must confess that I was at first as 
 much pained as astonished to behold him thus 
 ludicrously disguised ; for I was naturally struck 
 by the idea that as ho had his pardon in his 
 pocket there could not be any absolute need for 
 such a concealment of his personal identity. 
 
 " Be not angry, and be not astonished, my dear 
 girl," said my father, who at once comprehended 
 what was passing in my mind; "for if there be 
 no absolute necessity for this disguise, it is never- 
 theless dictated by several prudential reasons, as 
 you shall immediately learn." 
 
 We walked away into the retired and little fre- 
 quented streets which exist in the neighbourhood 
 of Easton Square: and I awaited with curiosity 
 the forthcoming explanations. 
 
 "In the first place," resumed my father, "I 
 must speak of that villain Parks " 
 
 " Is he deceiving us i" I exclaimed : " have you 
 reason to suspect——" 
 
 " Listen, Ellen," interrupted my father. 
 " Snowing that Parks is a man capable of any 
 iniquity, duplicity, and deceit, I thought after we 
 left him the other day, that it would be as well if 
 I were to institute some watch upon his move- 
 ments J for I reflected that perhaps sooner than 
 surrender up so large a sum, he might hastily 
 realize all his property and decamp to the Euro- 
 pean continent, to America, or to one of the far 
 distant colonies. Keeping in mind the importance 
 of the sum which is at stake, I was not likely to 
 hesitate at a trifle when once I had resolved to 
 maintain a watch upon his movements. Hence 
 therefore this disguise. I have followed Parks 
 on various occasions and to many places within 
 the metropolis ; but I have seen nothing to con- 
 firm my suspicion that he may after all attempt to 
 play us false. To-morrow, therefore, we shall 
 proceed to his residence, according to the appoint- 
 ment which he gave us the other day. But there 
 was another reason which induced mo to assume 
 this disguise. Thomas Parks is not the only in- 
 dividual whom I have watched : I have likewise 
 been keeping my eye upon Lord Frederick Baveus- 
 cliff"e." 
 
 " You have seen him, then, father ?" I said, 
 anxious to know whether there were any shadow 
 of a chance that he mighc be brought to the ne- 
 cessity of rendering an act of justice to Juliet. 
 
 " I have seen him frequently," responded my 
 
 sire : " but I thought that I would wait for a few 
 days ere I made myself known to him. My ob- 
 ject in watching him, Ellen, has been to form an 
 idea of his pursuits, so that I may judge whether 
 he be likely to yield to the influenc?s which I must 
 bring to bear upon him-in short, that I might 
 the better know how to shape my own course of 
 action. Por though I am resolved to leave no 
 stone unturned in order to compel him to do an 
 act of justice to your friend Juliet, yet must I 
 proceed delicately and cautiously. For remember 
 that though I have my pardon in my pocket, and 
 may defy him on that point— yet that I am not 
 equally independent on another poiat. For if 
 I were to threaten him with exposure in respect 
 to his villanous conduct towards year friend 
 Juliet, he might, alas! turn round and retaliate — 
 he might bid me beware how I brought down 
 the vengeance of the law upon himself, inasmuch 
 as I was an accomplice in his iniquity. There- 
 fore, my dear girl," continued my father, " I am 
 compelled to proceed with all possible caution. 
 He is leading a life of dissipation ; and it is sel- 
 dom that one who falls into such pursuits, fails to 
 lay himself open in some weak points which may 
 be taken advantage of for particular purposes. 
 For these reasons have I watched him, and may 
 continue to do so for yet a little while longer, era 
 I finally shape out the course which I may have 
 to adopt." 
 
 " I must leave everything," I answered, " to 
 your judgment : and heaven grant that your pro- 
 jects may succeed ! I know that all the love which 
 Juliet once experienced towards that young noble- 
 man, has turned into disgust, if not into hatred : 
 but for her own sake, as well as for that of her 
 parents, she would doubtless accept the position 
 of a wife, so as effectually to shield her dis. 
 honour." 
 
 " Reverting to the business which we have in 
 hand for the morrow," said my father — " I mean 
 our appointment with Mr. Parks— I have just 
 made up my mind to take a step which will con- 
 vince him that we are not to be trifled with. I 
 will this evening throw off my disguise and pay 
 him a visit, to remind him that the appointment 
 does stand for the morrow." 
 
 After a little more conversation, I and my father 
 separated ; and as it was then too late for me to 
 pay my previously intended visit to Lady Oacilia 
 Urban, I returned to Hunter Street. 
 
 On the following morning, immediately after 
 breakfast, I received a letter from my father. He 
 therein informed me that he had seen Mr. Parks 
 on the preceding evening, and that the appoint- 
 ment was postponed for a week. He went on to 
 say tliat Mr. Parks had alleged as an excuse for 
 this delay the dilliculty of raising so large a 8u:a 
 of money in so short a time— that he had pro- 
 duced documents and letters to prove that he was 
 in the course of obtaining the required amount, 
 and that he was acting a sincere part. My father 
 assured me in this letter that there was nothing 
 in the lawyer's conduct to excite his suspicion, 
 and that he believed everything would result suc- 
 cessfully, though he was resolved not to relal in 
 his look out upon Mr. Parks's movements and 
 proceedings. I confess, however, that I nosv had 
 my misgivings : but there was no help for it— the 
 business was in the hands of my father, who was
 
 302 
 
 EIiLBir PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIBS OP AN ACTEES3. 
 
 conducting it with as much circumspection as pos- 
 sible — and all I could do was to abide the issue 
 with patience. 
 
 Mr. E.ichards was exceedingly vexed and an- 
 noyed at my refusal to reappear in the character 
 of Cleopatra : he first of all told me outright that 
 I was violating the terms of my compact, and 
 that he could force me to adhere to them if he 
 thought fit; but I speedily gave him to under- 
 stand that I was determined to consult my own 
 feelings of decency and propriety in preference 
 to any other consideration. He was somewhat 
 amazed to find me so resolute : he began to talk 
 more humbly, and even to apologize obsequiously : 
 but I had not the slightest wish to humiliate him — 
 and I therefore rejoined in such a way that we be- 
 came good friends again. " Antony and Cleopatra" 
 had been announced for repetition : but it was re- 
 called in consequence of the determination I had 
 taken ; and I appeared in some character that was 
 more congenial to my taste than that of the volup- 
 tuous Egyptian Queen. 
 
 On this evening of which I am speaking, I ob- 
 served the Marquis of Tynedale in the same box 
 which he had occupied on the former occasion : 
 but I affected not to notice his presence. Never 
 once while I was upon the stage that evening, 
 did I suffer him to perceive that I threw a glance 
 towards him : his very presence was to me an 
 insult and an outrage. Yet two or three times, 
 when he could not observe me, as I was behind the 
 scenes waiting to go on, I cast looks in the direc- 
 tion of the box in which he was seated ; and I 
 saw that he was watching with the most earnest 
 attention for the moment when I should make my 
 appearance. 
 
 " The Marquis," I took the opportunity to 
 whisper in Melissa's ear, " is present again to- 
 night." 
 
 " Yes — I perceive him yonder," she replied : 
 " but I do not think, my dear Ellen, he will ever 
 trouble you again. You doubtless remember his 
 handwriting and his seal P" 
 
 " Yes," I responded : " I have a perfect recol- 
 lection of them both ; and if he should dare make 
 the attempt to communicate with me again " 
 
 " You will put his letter into the fire P" sug- 
 gested Melissa : " you would not think of open- 
 ing it?— and you certainly would not condescend 
 to take the trouble of returning him a second 
 letter in a blank envelope ?" 
 
 " No — I assuredly would not," I answered : and 
 the next moment 1 had to go upon the stage. 
 
 Two or three days afterwards I received a note 
 from Lady Cecilia Urban. She reproached me 
 in gentle but kind terms for not having been 
 to see her very lately j and she begged me to fa- 
 vour her with a call. She and her aunt had 
 moved to a new residence, near Knightsbridge — 
 indeed close by the Eutland Gate; and she ex- 
 pressed her wish to have my opinion upon their 
 present mansion. I accordingly resolved to lose 
 no time in visiting the young lady who from cir- 
 cumstances had formed so strong an attachment 
 for me. It was at about one o'clock in the after- 
 noon that I proceeded to Knightsbridge: and I 
 was compelled to go in a cab, for an accident had 
 happened on the preceding day to Mr. Norman's 
 carriage. Having passed an agreeable hour with 
 Lady Cecilia— and having promised that 1 would 
 
 soon return to pay her a longer visit — I took my 
 leave. The weather was exceedingly fine, and I 
 resolved to walk through Hyde Park, as for the 
 last few days I had taken but little exercise, and 
 I had a slight pain in the head. I had proceeded 
 about half-way through the Park, when I observed 
 a tall, elderly, aristocratic-looking personage ap- 
 proaching me on foot ; and I at once recognised 
 the Marquis of. Tynedale. He had suddenly di- 
 verged from the path he was previously pursuing, 
 and it was evidently that he might accost me. 
 The blood rushed to my cheeks; and I could not 
 help exclaiming within myself, and with a strong 
 feeling of bitterness too, " Am I over and over 
 again to be exposed to the insults of libertines ? 
 — do they imagine that they have a sort of pre- 
 scriptive right to address their overtures to every 
 female who happens to be connected with the 
 stage ?" 
 
 Yet while I was thus giving secret and silent 
 vent to my feelings, I was pursuing my way as 
 steadily as if perfectly unconscious of the approach 
 of the nobleman — and likewise with an air as if 
 ignorant of his presence. I wondered within my- 
 self whether he would dare address me ; and I 
 rapidly revolved in my mind the manner in which 
 I should treat him if he displayed that audacity. 
 To rebuke or reproach him, I reflected, would only 
 be to encourage a conversation ; and therefore the 
 better mode of behaviour on my part would be to 
 treat him with silent contempt, and endeavour to 
 make him feel that mighty as a rich peer of Eng- 
 land he might be, yet that by his actions he was 
 degraded in my eyes to the level of the lowest and 
 meanest of human beings. 
 
 It was evidently with hesitation and diffidence 
 that he was drawing near, — his pace becoming 
 slower ; and yet as he was cutting me off", as it 
 were, by the diverging route he had taken from 
 his original path, I could only escape him alto- 
 gether by turning away in another direction. For 
 a moment I thought of doing so : but then the 
 next instant I reflected that it would be impolitic 
 and unwise to sufi'er him to fancy that he was of 
 sufficient importance for me to be so influenced by 
 his presence. All of a sudden he seemed to make 
 up his mind to address me : he threw off" his hesi- 
 tation ; and in a few instants be was by my side. 
 Then I stopped short, flung an indignant look 
 upon him, and continued my way. 
 
 " Ellen, why thus cruel ?" he said, still keeping 
 by my side. " Is it possible that " 
 
 I now again stopped short— bent upon him 
 another indignant look — and turned away in a 
 direction at right angles with that which I had 
 previously been pursuing. But again was he by 
 my side. 
 
 "Ellen — dearest Ellen !" he said, throwing into 
 his voice, which was naturally not inharmonious, 
 as much tenderness as possible, — " I implore of 
 you to tell me why you are thus cruel? Is it 
 possible that after " 
 
 "My lord," I exclaimed, for the third time 
 stopping short, and confronting him with an in- 
 dignation half fierce, half haughty, "I insist — I 
 command that you leave me ! You have learnt 
 my decision— and in terms too which I should 
 have thought would have been sufficiently signifi- 
 cant " 
 
 " I know, Ellen," be interrupted me with a
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTESSS. 
 
 303 
 
 look of the most earnest eutreatj, — " I know that 
 it is dishonourable on my part — a flagrant viola- 
 tion of a solemn " 
 
 "Then leave me at once, my lord!" I ejacu- 
 lated. "Not another syllable!— and dare not to 
 follow me another step I" 
 
 " Ellen, I am half mad I" exclaimed the Mar- 
 quis of Tynedale. " I cannot live without you — 
 by heaven I cannot !" 
 
 " Jf ow dare you, my lord, address me in these 
 terms P" I demanded, my whole frame now qui- 
 vering with anger and offended modesty. " By 
 what right do you speak to me in these familiar 
 terms — calling me by tny Christian name——" 
 
 "Ah, by what right?" he said, with a look and 
 manner so strange that I could not help being 
 struck by both. "May I not ask why you repel 
 me thus haughtily— thus disdainfully ?" 
 
 " What, my lord !" I cried ; " would you ven- 
 ture to assert any right upon such a point ?" 
 
 "The right, Ellen, which circumstances have 
 given me," he responded : and he spoke in a voice 
 so mild in accents— so plaintively reproachful — 
 and with a look so deprecating, that I really 
 began to grow bewildered: for to judge by his 
 conduct and demeanour, it would actually seem as 
 if he felt himself to be in some sense an injured 
 man by the denial on my part of bia asserted right 
 to question me. 
 
 " I cannot understand you, my lord," I said, 
 with firmness and dignity : but then all in an in- 
 stant a thousand painful ideas swept through my 
 mind. 
 
 Could he possibly think that I was only playing 
 a part ? — did he conceive that I was an actress off 
 the stage as well as upon it ? — had he become im- 
 pressed with the belief that in a meretricious or 
 coquettish humour at the moment, I had pur- 
 posely suffered him to catch a glimpse of my 
 bosom the other night at the theatre ? — that I 
 was therefore laying myself open to be addressed 
 by him — and that I had returned his letter -and 
 his cheque merely because I estimated my charms 
 at a higher price and was determined to elicit 
 more substantial terms ere I surrendered ? In 
 this sense ran the questions which with the swift- 
 ness of a hurricane I asked myself j and at the 
 bare idea that I might possibly be so terribly mis- 
 understood — so fearfully misjudged — the burning 
 blushes rose to my cheeks. 
 
 " You do not understand me, Ellen ?" he said, 
 still with all the gentleness of remonstrating in- 
 quiry, of deprecation, and reproach, as if he felt 
 himself to be an injured man — or at least as if he 
 thought he was not being treated handsomely or i 
 becomingly. " Ah ! I am not astonished to hear | 
 you speak thus ! But yet I may be permitted to | 
 deplore — to grieve even — though I might have 
 sworn never again to entreat — never even to re- 
 cognise you — but to pass you by unnoticed " , 
 
 " If these vows, my lord, you made within i 
 yourself," I interrupted him, " they were well ] 
 and wisely taken ! But wherefore do you not 
 adhere to them ?" | 
 
 " You know that I made those vows, Ellen," 
 he replied : " but. Ah ! to keep them is another 
 thing ! I would have pledged myself to perform : 
 anything at the time — yes, anything in order to ' 
 enjoy that happiness " 
 
 He stopped short; for he saw that I was gazing I 
 
 upon him with a bewilderment which at those last 
 words that he uttered suddenly turned into a 
 silent storm of indignation — a storm that was ex- 
 pressed in my looks and which seemed in readi- 
 ness to burst forth. I had been insensibly led on 
 to tarry in conversation with him down to this 
 crisis ; and now I was still more completely trans- 
 fixed to the spot by the strange, the incompre- 
 hensible language he bad just been holding to 
 me. 
 
 "I do not understand you, my lord," I said; 
 " and it would take but little to make me con- 
 ceive that you are even more mad than wicked. 
 I now insist upon your leaving me ! — I couimand 
 it! — and I declare to you," I added vehemently, 
 " that if you persist in following my footsteps, I 
 will invoke the protection of that police-officer or 
 of those gentlemen yonder !" 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the look of 
 deep pathetic sadness which the Marquis of Tyne- 
 dale now bent upon me. All the dignity of his 
 own aristocracy seemed to dissolve into the 
 mournfulness of that look, with its deep yet mild 
 and gentle reproach fulness, as if it were the air of 
 a man who was doomed to suffer some immense 
 wrong, and yet was resigned to endure it patiently 
 and uncomplainingly for the sake of her who in- ■ 
 flicted it. I was again struck by his whole appear- 
 ance : there was in my mind a vague idea of some 
 mystery which I could not understand — some 
 misconception either on his part or on mine: but 
 I would not bid him tarry that I might demand 
 explanations, when he began to turn away from 
 me with a last look of dismal yet gentle depre- 
 cation. 
 
 I hastened onward. What could it possibly all 
 mean P He had made allusions to things which I 
 could not understand : he bad said, for instance, 
 that I knew he bad made certain vows : — but how 
 could I have known it P He had spoken of " the 
 enjoyment of happiness :" and it was this phrase 
 which had turned my bewilderment into indigna- 
 tion. My thoughts were full of painful confusion, 
 wonder, and amaze. I now blamed myself for not 
 having demanded an explanation : but the whole 
 details of the interview had taken a course so dif- 
 ferent from what I had expected at the outset, 
 that I had been enabled to act only according to 
 the impulses of the moment, and not according to 
 the plan which in the first instance I had resolved 
 upon. 
 
 CHAPTER LI II. 
 
 MOKE MT3TEEIES. 
 
 Ten minutes had elapsed from the moment when 
 the Marquis of Tynedale had separated from mo 
 in so singular a manner; and still in a muze of 
 painful confusion, wonder, and perplexity, I was 
 drawing near ^towards Hyde Park Corner, — when 
 whom should I meet but Melissa Harrison ? Ah ! 
 this was fortunate, I thought : for as she was ia 
 the secret of the iNlarquis of Tynedale's overtures 
 towards me, and of the manner in which I had 
 rejected thom, she might possibly be enabled to 
 fathom the present mystery with a degree of pene- 
 tration in which I found myself so utterly de- 
 ficient.
 
 301 
 
 BLLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 " My dear Melissa," I said, speeding towards 
 her, " this meeting is most opportune !" 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Ellen !" she cried, pressing 
 my hands. " But what is the matter ? You look 
 agitated and excited P" — and she surveyed me 
 earnestly. 
 
 " I have just met the Marquis of Tynedale," I 
 said. 
 
 "Ah! But he did not dare address you ?" ex- 
 claimed Miss Harrison. 
 
 " He did, Melissa ! I treated hica with ovary 
 variety of scorn, contempt, hauteur, and indigna- 
 tion," I continued : " while he on the other hand 
 was full of a humility — a vague reproachfulness — 
 a deprecation as if of some injury that I was in- 
 flicting upon him in a word, Melissa, I am 
 
 totally bewildered — I am unhappy too — for it ap- 
 pears as if there were a mystery which ought to 
 be cleared up, and which I however know not how 
 to fathom !" 
 
 " Ob, he is evidently a foolish, silly old man," 
 responded Melissa: "he is infatuated with your 
 beauty — and no wonder " 
 
 " You delivered that letter, Melissa ?" I ex- 
 claimed : " you delivered it that very day ?" 
 
 " Yes — within two hours — I might almost say 
 in an hour after I quitted you for the purpose," 
 replied Miss Harrison. "Oh, you cannot sup- 
 pose " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my dear friend," I said, 
 " do not for an instant think that I suspected you 
 of not delivering that letter, or even of delaying 
 its delivery. But when one is excited, and trou- 
 bled, and perplexed as I am at this moment, one 
 is apt to put hasty and thoughtless questions." 
 
 " No doubt, my dear frien j," answered Melissa ; 
 " and I was not for an instant annoyed at your 
 putting that question to me. But do not excite 
 yourself— be calm — and tell me everything that 
 passed. My head is cooler than your's at this 
 moment ; and I may possibly be enabled to sug- 
 gest explanations." 
 
 "That is just the idea which struck me the 
 instant I saw you," I exclaimed. " Listen — and 
 I will endeavour to repeat word for word all that 
 took place between his lordship and myself." 
 
 I gave the narrative to Melissa just as I ere 
 now described it to the reader— not even omitting 
 the hasty questions which I had asked myself, and 
 the bare idea of which had at the time brought 
 up the burning blushes to my cheeks. For I 
 should observe that Melissa was already ac- 
 quainted with the little incident in respect to the 
 drapery fluttering away from my bosom when I 
 was performing the part of Cleopatra : for that 
 incident was alluded to in the Marquis of Tyne- 
 dale's letter — and I had explained it to her before 
 elie took her leave of me on that occasion when 
 she set off to return the letter itself and the 
 cheque in the blank envelope to his lordship. 
 Miss Harrison now listened with deep attention 
 to the recital of all that had passed between the 
 elderly noblemaa and myself; and whea I had 
 concluded, I was still more pained, amazed, and 
 perplexed at those incidents as I had just reviewed 
 them, than I was when under the first impressions 
 they left on my mind. 
 
 " I fear, my dear Ellen," said Melissa, " that it 
 was as you apprehend. The Marquis fancied that 
 you had given him some little encouragement at 
 
 the theatre, and that having led him on to an 
 overture, he had a right to consider himself in- 
 jured by the disdainful manner in which you 
 rejected it. But whatever his opinion might thus 
 have been, he must now be assuredly disabused of 
 it after your conduct towards him within the pre- 
 sent hour. Do not trouble yourself any more upon 
 the point. As for tlie other language of which 
 hia lordship made use, and which has struck you 
 as being so strange and perplexing, it has really 
 no significancy that need pain you. Eemember 
 that when one is in an agitated state of mind, one 
 says things which seem iutelligible enough to one- 
 self, but which are an incomprehensible jargon to 
 the individual to whom they are addressed." 
 
 " It must be as you say, Melissa :" — and yet I 
 inwardly felt that her mode of accounting for the 
 mystery, was not altogether so complete as to 
 satisfy my mind : but I feared lest I might only ap- 
 pear foolish by dwelling upon the topic — and be- 
 sides, I had no doubt as to her own well-meaning 
 purpose. 
 
 " I must now leave you, Ellen," she said : " for 
 I am going to see my little girl— and I have not 
 too much time to spare. I hope that when next 
 we meet, I shall find you perfectly convinced of 
 the accuracy of the explanations which I have de- 
 duced from my own common sense reading of the 
 facts." 
 
 Melissa and I then separated ; but I had pro- 
 ceeded to no great distance before I caught sight 
 of my father a little way off. He made me a sign 
 to retire into a more secluded portion of the Park, 
 because there was, as is usual, a greater number 
 of persons in the neighbourhood of the gate at the 
 corner than elsewhere. I obeyed the sign ; and 
 in a few minutes I was joined by my father, — who, 
 I should observe, was disguised in precisely the 
 same style as when I had met him a few days back 
 in Euston Square. 
 
 I at once asked him if he had anything to com« 
 municate in reference to Mr. Parks ? — and he re- 
 plied, "Nothing of importance. I could not write 
 to you at very great length the other day: but I 
 gave you sufficient details to enable you to under- 
 stand the actual position of affairs." 
 
 " And you still think," I said, " that Mr. Parks 
 means to fulQl his pledge, and that he is not de- 
 ceiving us ?" 
 
 " I hope that he is not deceiving us," responded 
 my father ; " and I have no ground for supposing 
 that he is. He gave me proofs that he is raising 
 the money which he has to pay over to you : he 
 convinced me that he has ample means for that 
 purpose ; and he exhibited two or three letters 
 which satisfactorily accounted for the brief delay 
 which ho demanded. And that delay I felt bound 
 to accord him. It is true— and necessarily so — 
 that we are to some extent at his mercy ; because 
 when he shall have raised that money, whether ho 
 will pay it over to you or whether he will decamp 
 with it, is after all the main point. Of what his 
 conduct will be, I can only judge by his position. 
 From the searching inquiries I have made, I be- 
 lieve that he is very well off; and though as a 
 matter of course the payment of so large a sum 
 as that which we demand of him will make a 
 serious difference in his fortune, y^t I do not think 
 it will be of suflioient consideration to induce him 
 to abscond altogether and thus anniliilate all hia
 
 ELLEX PEECY; OE, THE MEHOIES OF AX ACTEESS, 
 
 305 
 
 otheiTprospects at one single blow. In anj case, 
 Ellen, I am keeping a tolerably sharp look-out 
 upon him— that is to say, I watch his proceedings 
 Eoino two or threo times during each day : and 
 more I cannot do." 
 
 "And what," I asked, "in reference to Lord 
 Frederick Savenscliffe ?" 
 
 " By tlio bye," ejaculated my father, without 
 immediately replying to the question, " who is 
 that young person that I saw you with a few 
 minutes back, and whose presence kept me for a 
 little while at a distance ere I accosted you P" 
 
 " Oh, that is Miss Harrison," I answered,—" a 
 favourite danseuse in the ballet." 
 
 " I fear, Ellen," rejoined my father, " that she 
 is not altogether an eligible companion for you. I 
 do not think hef conduct is so correct as it might 
 be " 
 
 " What reason," I asked, " have you for this 
 No. S9. — ELLEif Peect. 
 
 supposition ?" — and methought that Melissa's 
 antecedents might perhaps by some means or 
 another have come to my father's ears. 
 
 "I am very much mistaken," he replied, "if 
 this Miss Harrison be not exceedingly intimate 
 with Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe." 
 
 " Ob, no ! — not improperly so, I am convinced '." 
 was the exclamation that burst from my lips. 
 " It is true that they are acquainted — Melissa 
 Harrison met him on three or four occasions at 
 supper-parties at Mr. German's, at the time when 
 the Normans used to see a great deal of company, 
 before Juliet was so grossly deceived by Lord 
 Frederick. But as to there being any particular 
 intimacy between Lord Frederick and Melissa, I 
 really do not think such can be the case. Indeed, 
 it was not long ago that Lord Frederick and a 
 gentleman who was with him, conducted them* 
 selves so grossly in the Qreen Boom of the theatre.
 
 306 
 
 ELLEN PEECTj OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESa. 
 
 Uiat Melissa Harrison spoko iu the strongest terms 
 upon the subject." 
 
 " Well, then," answered my father, " all I can 
 tell you is that Miss Harrison and Lord Frederick 
 are now on excellent terms together — though 
 heaven forbid that I should go so far as to assert 
 anything of a more prejudicial kind to Miss Har- 
 rison's character. But within the last few days I 
 have seen them more than once together : — and 
 on the first occasion— I recollect now perfectly 
 well— they went off to dine at the Star and Garter 
 at Richmond." 
 
 " Is this possible, my dear father ?" I exclaimed. 
 " Surely you must be mistaken ?" 
 
 " So far from being mistaken, I am positive of 
 it," ho replied, — " and all the more so since you 
 have mentioned the name of Melissa. I recog- 
 nised the girl immediately I saw her in your 
 company just now: but I did not know until you 
 told me, what her surname is nor to what pro- 
 fession she belongs." 
 
 " It is extraordinary !" I murmured, with a 
 painful sensation at the heart^for I had fancied 
 that Melissa was deeply penitent for the past, that 
 she was devoted to her little girl, and that she was 
 now incapable even of an indiscretion, much more 
 of a deed of profligacy. 
 
 " Yes, it is as I tell you," continued my father. 
 " It was but three or four days ago that the inci- 
 dent to which I have so particularly alluded, took 
 place. I was proceeding along the Strand, follow- 
 ing Mr. Parks at a distance, and not even thinking 
 at the moment of Lord Frederick, — when I beheld 
 him alight from an elegant brougham at a bouse 
 of business. Then all in a moment my thoughts 
 were directed from the lawyer to settle upon the 
 young nobleman ; and true to my plan of pene- 
 trating as much as possible into his circumstances 
 and pursuits, I entered the house of business after 
 him. I saw that he did not recognise me : I got 
 near enough to him to ascertain precisely what his 
 purpose was in going thither ; and then I followed 
 him out,— after I had put some trivial question to 
 one of the clerks as an excuse for having entered 
 the place. He went straight up to the window of 
 the brougham, and said, ' Now, my dear Melissa, 
 since that business is done, we will be off to enjoy 
 ourselves at the Star and Garter.' — He leapt into 
 the brougham, wherein Miss Harrison had re- 
 mained seated while he was in the banking-house ; 
 and the equipage was whirled away." 
 
 " I am astonished, my dear father — and I am 
 pained likewise," I said, " to think that Melissa 
 could possibly be so deceptive. It is true that she 
 is ignorant of Lord Frederick's treachery towards 
 Juliet— unless be himself may now have commu- 
 nicated the secret to her " 
 
 " No— it is barely probable he would do so," re- 
 plied my father : " for Lord Frederick must regard 
 it as something too serious to be made the subject 
 of an idle boast or flourishing vaunt." 
 
 " I hope so," I rejoined. " But though Melissa 
 may indeed be ignorant that she is forming a 
 friendship with a young man who has so grossly 
 deceived a friend of her's — and though there may 
 not actually be anything criminal in her conduct — 
 yet her indiscretion is such as to render me careful 
 in future how I associate with her." 
 
 " Yes, you must indeed be thus careful, Ellen," 
 replied my father; "for a young female who 
 
 would go to diae alone with a profligate young 
 nobleman— Ah! and speaking of his profli- 
 gacy," exclaimed my father, thus suddenly inter- 
 rupting himself, "I am convinced that he must be 
 pursuing a most extravagant course — a courso 
 that will inevitably pauperize him even before ho 
 succeeds to the family estates. It is my opinion 
 that he is borrowing large sums of money from 
 certain patrician friends — men who perhaps minis- 
 ter to his extravagances in order that they may 
 take all the greater advantage of them. The in- 
 ference which I draw in respect to this ruinous 
 career of his, is deduced from what I beheld at 
 Coutts's banking-house on the day of which I am 
 speaking." 
 
 " Coutts's P" I ejaculated, as a recollection flashed 
 to my mind. 
 
 "Yes — the celebrated bankers in the Strand, 
 you know," rejoined my father. " Lord Frederick 
 entered that banking-house to receive no less a 
 sum than five thousand guineas." 
 
 " Five thousand guineas !" I repeated, with a 
 sort of wild terror : for the mention of this precise 
 amount struck me as being most strange. 
 
 " Ah, you may well wonder at the profligacy of 
 his career !— but I can assure you that such was 
 the sum he received." 
 
 " Five thousand guineas," I repeated, a sicken- 
 log sensation coming over me. " Coutts — three 
 or four days back — Melissa — five thousand 
 guineas " 
 
 " Why, Ellen, what ails you P" cried my father. 
 "You have turned so deadly pale! Are you ill, 
 my dear child ?" 
 
 "Yes-^no. But tell me, father — tell me," I 
 hastily exclaimed, now in a terribly excited condi- 
 tion, " do you recollect — did you chance to notico 
 whose name was appended to the cheque ?" 
 
 "Yes — I purposely bent over as Lord Frederick 
 held it for a few moments in his hand before 
 there was a cashier disengaged to receive it ." 
 
 " But the name ? the name ?" I cried vehe- 
 mently. " Tell me, father " 
 
 " Tynedale," was the response. " But what 
 mean you, Ellen " 
 
 " Good God !" I murmured, with a feeling ot 
 the intensest agony : for all in a moment I com- 
 prehended what but a short time back was so 
 utterly unintelligible : it blazed upon me like 
 the broad, vivid, blinding glare of a tremendous 
 sheet of lightning ! 
 
 " My dear child," said my father, sustaining me 
 by the arm— for he thought that I was about to 
 drop, — " what is the meaning of this excite- 
 ment ?" 
 
 "Ah!" I suddenly ejaculated, with a thrilling 
 sense of joy as new thoughts abruptly poured in 
 unto my mind : " he is in our power ! — and as for 
 myself, the mystery can be cleared up to the Mar- 
 quis!" 
 
 My father gazed upon me with a sort of con- 
 sternation, as if he feared that I was going mad. 
 And no wonder ! — for that rapid transition from 
 anguish and affright to the wildness of joy— my 
 changing looks — my altering accents — and the 
 words which I had just uttered, so incomprehen- 
 sible to my sire, — naturally filled him with the 
 worst apprehensions on behalf of my sanity, 
 
 " Father — dear father," I exclaimed, " Lord 
 Frederick Ravenscliffe is now so completely in our
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEB83. 
 
 307 
 
 power that we may force bim to do aa act of | " Yes, this is the best policy," ejaculated my 
 justice to Juliet ! Oh ! you were right to watch I father ; " and it shall be carried out, Melissa 
 his proceedings and make yourself aware of his I must confess ! You can terrify her — you can tell 
 movements ! Yes — and you were right too, when , her that all is known — that you will reveal every- 
 you proclaimed that from the misdeeds and irregu- thing to the Marquis of Tynedale, who will prose- 
 larities of a person's life circumstances may often cute her — that her accomplice likewise will be 
 transpire revealing their weak points and showing arrested- 
 
 by what modes they are to be acted upon. So it 
 is in the present instance — and I repeat, Lord Fre* 
 derick Eavenscliffe is at our mercy !" 
 
 This torrent of words which flowed from my 
 lips, were sufficiently connected to convince my 
 father that I had not taken leave of my senses : 
 but still they explained nothing to bim ; and he 
 waited with impatient curiosity for whatsoever I 
 might next state. 
 
 " Listen," I said, "and I will tell you something 
 which I did not mention before because I was 
 fearful of giving you pain by showing how I am 
 exposed to dishonourable overtures. The Marquis 
 of Tynedale sent me a letter — and it contained a 
 cheque. You can comprehend what the nature of 
 that letter was, and why that cheque was sent, 
 when I tell you that I at once enclosed both in a 
 blank envelope in order to return them to the 
 author of the insult. Melissa came to me at the 
 
 time — I thought she was my friend and 
 
 heaven knows that she ought to have been after 
 all I did for her during the period of her illness 
 and her poverty ! I fancied I could trust her— I 
 gave her that letter — and it is but too evi- 
 dent " 
 
 "I understand!" exclaimed my father; "she 
 purloined the cheque— and young Ravenscliflfe be- 
 came her accomplice ?" 
 
 " Yes— it is evidently so," I answered. " And 
 just now I met the Marquis of Tynedale — his con- 
 duct was to me incomprehensible — and though 
 
 even at present I cannot altogether fathom it 
 
 Ah, that treacherous Melissa ! to listen to me as 
 she did just now when I encountered her!— to 
 speak to me as she did ! — to endeavour to persuade 
 
 me Good heavens, what duplicity is there in 
 
 the world ! what deceitfulness ! Whom can we 
 (rust P" 
 
 The tears gushed forth from my eyes as I pas- 
 sionately gave vent to these ejaculations; for I was 
 shocked and pained at the hideous aspect which 
 humanity wore as I at that moment contem- 
 plated it. 
 
 " Calm yourself, my dear girl," said my father, 
 —"for heaven's sake tranquillize yourself ! It is 
 but too evident that through the iniquity of this 
 deceitful Melissa Harrison your reputation must 
 have suffered— we know not as yet to what extent 
 —with the Marquis of Tynedale : but it can be 
 easily re-established. A character so pure as 
 your's, is like the polished mirror which for a brief 
 space may be dimmed by breathing upon it ; but 
 that dimness speedily passes away, leaving it in 
 the dazzling glory of its pristine brilliancy. But 
 what course shall we pursue P You, my dear 
 Ellen, are now the best judge of the mode of action 
 under existing circumstances." 
 
 I reflected for a few instants ; and then I 
 thoughtfully said, " If it were possible to wrest 
 from the guilty Melissa a full confession of her 
 wickedness, we should ascertain to what extent 
 Lord Frederick has become an accomplice 
 therein." 
 
 " Yes, I will do all this !" I exclaimed ; " for it 
 is a matter in which no punctilios must be re- 
 garded — in which there must be no weak scruples 
 and no false delicacy ! Melissa is certain to ride 
 home from Kensington to her lodgings : she will 
 
 not return on foot through the Park but I 
 
 shall find her at her abode presently. I think it 
 would be well, my dear father, if I were to see her 
 alone — at all events in the first instance " 
 
 "Yes — be it so!" interjected my father. "I 
 think you do not appear upon the stage this even- 
 ing — and therefore we shall have ample time for 
 following up whatsoever blow is to be struck — and 
 we will not suffer the grass to grow under our 
 feet." 
 
 I made arrangements with my father in order 
 to be enabled to see hiqi again at any time that 
 circumstances might require our meeting during 
 the rest of that day ; and we separated. I pro- 
 ceeded into Piccadilly, where I took my seat in a 
 cab and returned home to Hunter Street — for I 
 knew that it would be useless to repair to Melissa's 
 lodging for an hour or two, inasmuch as she could 
 not as yet have had time to visit her child at 
 Kensington and get back to her abode. Though 
 my feelings were for many reasons greatly excited, 
 yet I veiled them as much as possible in the pre- 
 sence of the !Normans ; and when five o'clock 
 came, I issued forth again, intimating to them 
 that I was going out to dinner. I reached the 
 house in which Melissa resided ; and my heart 
 palpitated violently when I learnt from the person 
 who answered my summons at the door, that Miss 
 Harrison was at home. I ascended to her apart- 
 ment, — which I at once entered without knock- 
 ing. Melissa was in the act of examining a quan- 
 tity of goods which it was evident had been but 
 recently sent in from the mercer's ; and I caught 
 a hasty glimpse of silks, satins, velvets, and other 
 materials for rich dresses. She was suddenly 
 seized with confusion on beholding me : she was 
 transfixed to the spot — she became excessively 
 pale; and then, recovering her presence of mind, 
 she rushed forward, exclaiming, " My dear Ellen, 
 what brings you hither at so unwonted an hour P" 
 
 "To tell you, Melissa," I at once answered, 
 with a cold grave look and with a firm voice, 
 " that everything is discovered !" 
 
 A half-subdued shriek escaped Melissa's lips : 
 she staggered back — and suddenly throwing her- 
 self upon a seat, she burst into tears, sobbing like- 
 wise bitterly. I said nothing for a few moments : 
 but as I kept my eyes fixed upon her, my heart 
 seemed to swell until it rose up into my very 
 throat — for again was I infinitely shocked and 
 cruelly hurt to have the conviction forced upon 
 me that I had given my friendship to one who 
 was so utterly unworthy of it. 
 
 " O Melissa !" I said at last ; " is it possible 
 that you could have thus deceived me— that you 
 could have been guilty of an act so infamous — a 
 deed so darkly criminal — stamping yourself with 
 eternal infamy— seriously compromising me "
 
 " O Ellen !" she cried, " if it were not for the 
 recollection of all jour goodness towards me when 
 I 80 bitterly needed a friend, I should not be thus 
 bumbled and cast down! No, no! — to any one 
 else I should brave it out — I should assume the 
 air of a hardened wanton, as I have become !" 
 
 "Unhappy Melissa!" I exclaimed; "what ter- 
 rible words are these ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I am perhaps more wicked than you can 
 imagine!" she cried: "and yet But no mat- 
 
 ter !" she interrupted herself, with a strange wild 
 bitterness of look and tone : " I am now utterly 
 lost — and it is useless to deplore the degree of 
 degradation to which I have come down ! But still 
 I am not so bad as to be without remorse or 
 regret for the evil I have done to you, — you who 
 have ever proved yourself so kind and excellent a 
 friend towards me !" 
 
 " Melissa," I said, in an earnest tone, " if you 
 really esperience the slightest sentiment of grati- 
 tude on my behalf — if you are in the faintest de- 
 gree mindful of the friendship which has sub- 
 sisted between us — and if you have any anxiety 
 to make what atonement may lie in your power 
 for the ill you have done, — I conjure you to con- 
 fess your whole conduct in every detail ! I know 
 much — far too much for you to bo enabled to de- 
 ceive me in any particular. I will even tell you 
 that 1 know who your accomplice is: for on the 
 day when the cheque was presented at the bank, 
 there was a witness of the whole proceeding 
 
 "Ellen, I will tell you everything," answered 
 Melissa, — "yes, everything I — so that your own 
 reputation may be cleared up in a certain quarter : 
 for ever since the deed was done I have felt as if I 
 had committed a crime as black as murder itself ! 
 Yes— I have been haunted by remorse — my soul 
 has been torn with regret — and I verily believe 
 that if you had not by some means obtained a 
 clue to the perfidy which has been committed, I 
 should have sped to Lord Tjnedale, thrown myself 
 at his feet, and confessed everything!" 
 
 "And now you will confess everything to me," 
 I said J " and if it be possible to pardon you, 
 Melissa, you know that I am not merciless, — I 
 am not implacable " 
 
 "Ob, pardon is an impossibility!" she wildly 
 exclaimed. "But alas! I perceive, Ellen, that 
 you are unacquainted with the extent of my con- 
 duct in all its most hideous blackness ! You think 
 perhaps that having purloined the cheque, I 
 merely in your name gave the Marquis of Tyne- 
 dale some hopes ? But Oh ! far more deeply have I 
 sinned — far more deeply have I compromised you !" 
 
 " Good heavens, what can you have done ?" I 
 cried, shuddering with a wild vague apprehension. 
 "Speak, Melissa— speak ! Every moment of sus- 
 pense is full of poignant torture for me !" 
 
 "Ellen," she exclaimed, casting herself upon 
 her knees and extending her arms towards me, 
 "you will be an angel if you do not seek to kill 
 me outright when I confess the full infamy — the 
 abhorrent wickedness and hideous blackness of my 
 conduct !" 
 
 " Oh, this is dreadful!" I murmured, feeling 
 sick at the heart, while a dizziness seized upon my 
 brain — and I sank upon a seat. " Speak, Me- 
 lissa ! You have now thoroughly prepared me 
 for whatsoever revelation you may have to make !" 
 " Oh, Eilen, Ellen !" she wildly cried ; " can 
 
 you possibly be prepared to hear that when the 
 Marquis of Tynedale clasped me in his arms, it 
 was under circumstances planned with so devilish 
 an ingenuity that he believed he was possessing 
 you ?" 
 
 A shriek rose up to the very brim of my lips : 
 but it was suddenly held back by the sense of 
 consternation and dismay which instantaneously 
 succeeded the first thrilling effects produced by 
 this astounding, this terrific revelation. A faint- 
 ness came over me — all the sense of life seemed 
 to be departing out of my frame — when Melissa, 
 springing up from her kneeling posture, placed a 
 tumbler of water to my lips. I imbibed a portion 
 of the fluid, and was quickly restored. She stood 
 before me, pale, trembling, and quivering, the very 
 picture of conscious guilt stirred by remorse and 
 penitence ; and the tears began to trickle down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Now tell me everything, Melissa," I said, in 
 a low tremulous voice. " I will endeavour to hear 
 you patiently, and without excitement — or at least 
 without an external display of it. But beware 
 how you attempt to deceive me in any particular : 
 for my reputation must and sJuill be fully cleared 
 up with that nobleman — though at the same time 
 I will for mercy's sake endeavour to shield you 
 from the consequences of the tremendous crime 
 that you have committed." 
 
 " Oh ! this is more than I could possibly have 
 expected," said the weeping Melissa, — "infinitely 
 more than I could have dared ask ! You are an 
 angel of goodness, Ellen— and I am a wretch— yes, 
 the veriest wretch that crawls ! — though, thank 
 [ heaven, I am not yet so utterly lost or depraved 
 as to be without a sense of remorse for what I 
 I have done !" 
 
 " Where there is remorse, there is the germ of 
 penitence," I answered : " and where there is peni- 
 I tence, there ought to be mercy shown. Believe 
 I me, Melissa, I will not injure you if I can pos- 
 I sibly avoid it. But remember," I added in a 
 I firmer and severer tone, " there is no earthly con- 
 ', sideration which I shall regard while clearing up 
 my own character !" 
 
 " And you are justified in thus speaking, Ellen," 
 ; answered Melissa. "Listen — and I will tell you 
 ' everything. You are already acquainted with 
 I many of the incidents of my past lite : you know 
 ' that under the dire pressure of circumstances 
 I became the victim of the seducer— and that 
 I seducer was Colonel Bellew. But you likewise 
 . know that so soon as I began to obtain some re- 
 putation as a dancer, I renounced the life of in- 
 famy : and heaven is my witness that it was at 
 the time a joyous and sincere renunciation on my 
 part ! If any one had then told me that I could 
 . ever have relapsed into a course of error, I should 
 have repelled the prophetic insinuation with indig- 
 nation, with scorn, and with loathing. And for 
 awhile my life was a correct one — yes, for a period 
 I rose as high above every temptation as you 
 yourself, Ellen, have ever risen ! Three weeks 
 have not as yet elapsed since I fell again ; and 
 I then, when once I had so fallen— when once the 
 ' relapse had taken place— I felt as if seized with 
 a sudden callousness and indiflTerence — a despe- 
 rate recklessness, so to speak, as to what else I 
 might do or how much more deeply I might 
 plunge down into the vortex of wickedness."
 
 Melissa had beea speaking with a rapid and 
 vehement utterance : she now pauaed — the tears 
 again started from her ejes— and having^ wiped 
 them away, she continued in the following man- 
 ner :— 
 
 "I must DOW confess that of all the joung 
 noblemen or gentlemen whom I have anjwhere 
 met, I have entertained a preference for Lord 
 Prcderick Havenscliffe. And I never betrayed it. 
 At ono time I believed that he was paying his court 
 to Juliet ; and the friendship which I experienced 
 for her rose superior to any feeling of jealousy. 
 Then everything appeared to be broken off in 
 tlmt quarter; and I no longer sought to put a 
 curb upon my feelings nor upon my imagination. 
 I thought oftener and oftener of the handsome 
 Frederick Bavenscliffe : I indulged in dreams and 
 visions of happiness — until I felt that I loved 
 Lim with the deepest infatuation. But all this 
 likewise did I conceal. Thus months and months 
 passed on : seldom did I see Lord Frederick 
 — and when we did happen to meet, it was 
 merely a reserved and distant notice that he be- 
 stowed upon me. Yet though my heart was 
 wounded, its passion was not cooled : the 
 Aame which burnt within lost none of its in- 
 tensity. Eut I am expanding this narrative of 
 mine to too great a length: I will therefore at 
 once approach the incidents which relate more 
 particularly to yourself. You remember, Ellen, 
 that scene in the Green Room which occurred be- 
 tween two and three weeks ago,— how Lord Frede- 
 rick and Colonel Bellow suddenly made their 
 appearance, heated with wine — and how hia lord- 
 ship insulted Juliet. I afterwards spoke strongly 
 of the matter, — not merely to conceal the real 
 state of my own feelings, but likewise because the 
 demon of jealousy had suddenly risen up in my 
 heart, and I felt that even from the evidence of 
 8uch an incident Lord Frederick thought infinitely 
 more of Juliet than he did of me. On the fol- 
 lowing day I was proceeding to the theatre at 
 about noon, to practise with the ballet-master, 
 when I suddenly encountered Lord Frederick. 
 He stopped me— he spoke with a friendly fami- 
 liarity that be had never before adopted towards 
 me — and he inquired what the Iformaus had said 
 in respect to the adventure of the preceding even- 
 ing ? I told him how indignant they were. Me- 
 thought that he smiled in a peculiar manner, but 
 I could not comprehend what was passing in his 
 mind. He retained me in conversation ; and I 
 confess that I was in no hurry to leave him — for 
 my heart was bounding with happiness. He 
 gradually began to contemplate me with attention : 
 admiration grew up in his looks : he paid me com- 
 pliments — he asked permission to call upon me — 
 and I assented. He came to my lodgings; and 
 then, Ellen— then I fell from the path of virtue 
 which for a period I had been pursuing." 
 
 Again Melissa paused : her cheeks were suffused 
 in blushes— the tears were trickling from her eyes. 
 At length she continued her narrative in the en- 
 suing strain : — 
 
 " I have already told you that when once I had 
 thus relapsed, I stifled all the whisperings of con- 
 science — I strove to harden myself — to surround my 
 heart, as it were, with the defence- works of cal- 
 lousness, recklessness, and indifference. I became 
 Tiord Frederick's mistress. Then one day I called 
 
 upon you. Ob, fatal day ! — it was the one oa 
 which you received the overture from the Marquis 
 of Tynedale. When you showed mo the letter and 
 its tempting enclosure, I could not help thinking 
 that if such an overture had been addressed to me, 
 I should gladly have accepted it. The sum ap- 
 peared enormous in my eyes. Satan whispered in 
 my ear; and without having positively deter- 
 mined to consummate the great wickedness that 
 was thus suggested to my mind, I offered to be- 
 come the bearer of the packet to Lord Tynedale. 
 But at the moment when you so readily and so 
 trustingly consigned it to my keeping, I could 
 hardly restrain myself from fulling at your feet 
 and confessing that I already felt myself un- 
 wortiiy of so much confidence. But my evil 
 genius prevailed — and I departed with the packet. 
 As I returned to my lodgings, the desire to be- 
 come suddenly enriched grew stronger and stronger 
 in my mind; and yet I hesitated to plunge all at 
 once into the vortex. Knowing nothing of the 
 nature of cheques, I dreaded lest if I were to self- 
 appropriate the one which that packet contained, 
 1 might, through some ignorance or indiscretion 
 in the mode of presenting it, betray my guilt and 
 draw down its most terrible consequences upon my 
 head. It is true that Lord Tynedale's letter itself 
 intimated that payment would be prompt and 
 without questioning at the bank : but stiil, as 
 guilty desires invariably suggest apprehensions—- 
 many of which may however be really groundless 
 — I trembled to incur what to me appeared a tre- 
 mendous risk. I aat down in this room with the 
 packet before me, pondering and hesitating — 
 wavering and uncertain. Lord Frederick entered 
 at the time. He had promised to bring me some 
 money ; and he at once began to complain bitterly 
 of disappointments which he had experienced — of 
 the increasing meanness of his father — and of the 
 embarrassments in which he found himself for the 
 want of a few hundreds of pounds. It seemed, 
 Ellen, as if Satan had sent him there at that mo- 
 ment and had put this discourse between his lips, 
 in order to combine and strengthen all the in- 
 fluences which were impelling me towards the 
 vortex of crime. To be brief, I let a few words 
 drop— Frederick caught at them — I strove to 
 evade his queries — but he pressed me— he fol- 
 lowed up every fresh admission which in the ex- 
 cited state of my feelings I unguardedly made— 
 until he wormed out of me the entire secret. 
 Then Satan, who had been hitherto tempting me 
 unseen, entered into the shape of Lord Frederick 
 Bavenscliffe— and the infernal plot was devised. 
 You shudder, Ellen " 
 
 " Proceed, proceed, Melissa !" I exclaimed. 
 " Tell me all the rest !" 
 
 " I will, I will !" she responded : " frankly will 
 I unbosom myself! But Ob! now how terribly 
 are your feelings to be wounded — is your modesty 
 to be shocked ! Your pure nature, Ellen, will 
 revolt in horror and loathing at the foulness of 
 the deed " 
 
 " Continue," I said ; " it is a tale that I must 
 hear !" 
 
 " The packet was opened," proceeded Melissa ; 
 " an answer was penned in your name to Lord 
 Tynedale — it was I who wrote it. Would that 
 ray hand had been suddenly palsied ! would that 
 lightnings had seared my eyes! But no !— it was
 
 310 
 
 ELI.EK PBBCT; OB, THS UBMOIBS OP A.ir ACTBBS8. 
 
 destined that the crime should be consummated ; 
 and it was ! The letter — the odious letter which 
 I penned in your name— accepted the overture of 
 the Marquis to a certain extent and on certain 
 express conditions. You were made to say that 
 you would not become his mistress, to be perma- 
 nently pensioned by him — but that you would 
 surrender yourself to his arms " 
 
 " Good Grod !" I murmured, my frame literally 
 writhing with torture as I listened to the horrible, 
 shocking narrative. 
 
 " Ah ! no wonder," cried Melissa, " that you are 
 thus moved ! £ut for heaven's sake let me make 
 an end of the narrative of that foul transaction. 
 In the letter which I penned in your name, you 
 w'ere made to state that you would that same 
 evening at ten o'clock visit his lordship at Tyne. 
 dale Lodge— that you were to be admitted thither 
 under all possible circumstances of secrecy— and 
 that there were yet other conditions which you 
 would subsequently have to enjoin. To that com- 
 munication the Marquis was to send a reply ad- 
 dressed to you under cover to a friend of your's, 
 as you did not wish to receive any secret corre- 
 spondence at Mr. Norman's house in Hunter 
 Street. Need I add that my own name and the 
 address of this house were given as the alleged 
 means of ensuring the privacy of your communi- 
 cations with the Marquis? He lost no time in 
 sending his answer, — which was anxiously awaited 
 by Lord Frederick and myself. We opened it. 
 Its language was that of rapturous joy and pas- 
 sion: one might have thought that it had been 
 penned by an ardent youth of less than half that 
 nobleman's age. It agreed to everything you 
 might choose to stipulate— it proclaimed his readi- 
 ness to obey your will in all things. Then the 
 plot — that vile iniquitous plot— proceeded ; and I 
 —wretch that I was ! — carried it out to the end. 
 Deeply veiled — veiled so closely indeed that it 
 was impossible for even the keenest eye to dis- 
 cern my features through that thrice-folded veil 
 —I presented myself at Tynedale Lodge. I 
 was at once conducted to the Marquis, who re- 
 ceived me in an apartment communicating with a 
 chamber. I murmured some words to the effect 
 that not for worlds could I reveal my blushes and 
 my confusion ; and he in his infatuation was ready 
 to believe anything or everything. We imme- 
 diately retired together— and I at once extin- 
 guished the lights in the chamber,— locking the 
 door likewise, and securing the key. At a very 
 early hour in the morning, before the faintest 
 glimmer of daylight could penetrate between the 
 well-closed curtains, I prepared to leave him. I 
 then explained the conditions to which I had 
 alluded in the letter as those yet remaining to be 
 stipulated. I enjoined him never to accost me 
 either in private or in public— never to come near 
 me — never to write to me — never, if he visited the 
 theatre, to fling a significant look upon me. But 
 in order that he might adhere to these conditions, 
 I skilfully interwove a hint that the faithful ob- 
 servance of them constituted his only hope of 
 meeting me again at some future period, when 
 perhaps I might consent to become his mistress 
 altogether. I was speaking as if it were you, 
 Ellen, that was thus addressing him : I simulated 
 your Voice to the best of my ability ; and in the 
 depth of his infatuation he was completely de. 
 
 ceived. Then I abruptly left him ; and, again 
 closely veiled, issued unobserved from the house." 
 All the latter portion of Melissa's narrative had 
 been broken by frequent self-upbraidings and 
 vehemently ejaculated self-reproaches. But these 
 I have omitted,— preferring to give the tale as 
 continuous a flow as possible. I can scarcely de- 
 scribe the feelings with which I listened to it,— 
 my blood at one moment running like molten lead 
 in my veins — then suddenly stagnating,— and my 
 frame trembling and quivering and shivering, or 
 else having a sensation as if I were writhing in 
 the burning profundities of a volcano. For it was 
 fearful and shocking, hideous and horrifying, to 
 listen to all those details of consummate villany, 
 — a villany which made Melissa seem in my eyes 
 a very demoness in female shape— a poisonous 
 reptile clothed in so fair a skin ! 
 
 CHAPTEE LIV. 
 
 IHE PAETX AT THE THEATEB. 
 
 Yet if such were the feelings which I experienced 
 — if such were my emotions and such my sensa- 
 tions—it is but fair to admit that Melissa Harri- 
 son displayed the utmost contrition and remorse 
 for the foul atrocity of which she had been guilty. 
 After an interval of silence — during which she sat 
 before me, the image of wretchedness and despair 
 —she suddenly burst forth into the most pas- 
 sionate lamentations — the most vehement self- 
 upbraidings. I had however at the moment so 
 little commiseration for her— I held her in such 
 deep disgust and in such strong abhorrence— that 
 I should have suffered her to rave on, were it not 
 that I was fearful the other inmates of the house 
 would be alarmed. I accordingly bade her be 
 silent, sit down, and listen to me. 
 
 "You have perpetrated a wickedness," I said, 
 "which is without a parallel in the history of 
 womankind. I can possibly understand, from all 
 that I have heard, read, and seen passing aroiiad 
 me, that a female may sacrifice her own reputa- 
 tion in order to gratify some particular passion. 
 But that she should deliberately, wilfully, and 
 wantonly sacrifice the good name of another of 
 her own sex, is an unheard of turpitude. You 
 cannot wonder that I speak strongly : the wonder 
 would be if I did not. But still, Melissa, I am 
 not inclined to fly from my word. I promised to 
 shield you from the wrath of Lord Tynedale to 
 that extent which is compatible with the vindica- 
 tion of my own outraged fame ; and I will hold 
 to my pledge. But you will at once answer me a 
 few questions." 
 
 Melissa had been weeping bitterly while I thus 
 addressed her; and she now tremulously mur- 
 mured, "Ask me what you will, Ellen— rest as- 
 sured that I shall reply truthfully and frankly." 
 
 "I presume," I said, "that you perpetrated 
 this infamous crime in order that the Marqui* of 
 Tynedale should fie satisfied by the way in which 
 he had disposed of so large a sum of money ?" 
 
 " Yes — such was my motive," responded 
 Melissa : " such was the nature of the plot 
 suggested by Lord Frederick and executed by 
 myself."
 
 BLLEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACXKESS, 
 
 311 
 
 " And at the theatre," I continued, " the other 
 night, when you with eo much seeming frankness 
 recommended me to burn unopened any letters 
 which his lordship might direct to me, — you 
 feared that if he did chance to write, he might 
 perhaps address his correspondence to Hunter 
 Street instead of under cover to yourself as my 
 supposed friend ?" 
 
 " Yes— there again you have rightly fathomed 
 my motive," rejoined Melissa. 
 
 "Now answer me another question," I said. 
 " Has Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ever spoken 
 I mean has he ever dared to speak disre- 
 spectfully of Juliet Norman ?" 
 
 " Never," answered Melissa. " Her name has 
 not been mentioned, unless very casually, since 
 the day when he met me in the street and in- 
 quired how the Normans treated the occurrence 
 at the theatre, when himself and Colonel Bellew 
 made their appearance in the Green Eoom." 
 
 "And now tell me, Melissa," I said, "what 
 were your plans ? — what happiness did you hope 
 to derive from the possession of so much money 
 eo iniquitously obtained ?" 
 
 "There are several particulars which I have yet 
 to give you," answered Melissa. " Lord Frederick 
 represented to me at the time that it was very 
 fortunate I had spoken to him about the cheque, 
 as there were always certain formalities to be ful- 
 filled at a banking-house notwithstanding that the 
 draft might be simply made payable to the bearer, 
 and though previous advice had been given by the 
 individual who drew it," 
 
 " In this he utterly deceived you, Melissa," I 
 replied ; " for there are no formalities whatever 
 in such a case : the act of presentation is simple, 
 9nd the draft is paid upon the spot. But doubt- 
 less he had his own purposes to serve — he was 
 desirous that he himself should obtain possession 
 of the cheque— and perhaps he has retained the 
 greater portion of the money ?" 
 
 " He said that he had better keep the bulk of 
 it," rejoined Melissa: "but he gave me five hun- 
 dred pounds to hold in my own possession. He 
 bade me continue my avocation at the theatre for 
 a little while — to avoid making any sudden change 
 in my appearance as regards dress — and to live 
 quietly and unostentatiously as before, so that by 
 such a line of conduct no suspicion might be ex- 
 cited. But it was arranged between us that in 
 two or three weeks we should depart for the Con- 
 tinent together ; and as our purse would be in 
 common, I had no ejection that be should retain 
 the bulk of the money." 
 
 " And did it never strike you, Melissa," I asked, 
 " that he might be grossly deceiving you the whole 
 time — that he meant to squander upon his own 
 pleasures the riches you had earned by the infamy 
 of infamies,- infamy in your own person and in- 
 famy towards myself ! Did it never occur to you, 
 I ask, that in a short while he would throw you 
 off— that he would abandon you— and that you 
 would see no more of the wealth you had entrusted 
 to his keeping ?" 
 
 "If I thought him capable of such villany," 
 exclaimed Melissa, her eyes flashing and her 
 bosom swelling, " I would " 
 
 " How can you speak thus ?" I asked, almost 
 with indignation : " how can you throw out a 
 doubt relative to bis capability of such conduct. 
 
 when you have told me that it was he himself 
 who suggested the fiendish plot by which tho 
 gold was obtained and my good name was sacri- 
 ficed ?" 
 
 " Alas, all this is but too true !" murmured Me- 
 lissa Harrison, with deepest mournfulness and 
 with a look of the most abject shame. 
 
 " And now tell me," I said, " how much you 
 have remaining of the five hundred pounds which 
 he entrusted to your keeping ?" 
 
 " I have it all," rejoined Melissa, "with the ex- 
 ception of some five-and- twenty or thirty pounds 
 which I have spent, the greater portion in those 
 pieces for dresses, which were to be got in rea'li- 
 ness for our intended trip to the Continent. But 
 here is the money ; and Oh ! for God's sake tako 
 it ! I shall feel happier when it is gone !" 
 
 " Yes — I shall take it," I answered ; " and to 
 deprive you of it, even to the uttermost farthing, 
 is an act of justice, imperative and retributive, 
 under the cirumstances." 
 
 Melissa had in the meanwhile opened a writing- 
 desk ; — and thence she took forth a quantity oc 
 notes and gold. On hastily counting the sum, I 
 found that it corresponded pretty accurately with 
 the statement which she had previously made in 
 respect to the amount that remained to her j — and 
 I took possession of it. 
 
 "Now, Melissa," I said, "you must afc once 
 accompany me to Kensington." 
 
 " Ob, my God \" she cried, clasping her hands 
 in anguish : " if the angry Marquis were to give 
 me into custody ! Alas, my poor child " 
 
 " You should have thought of all these risks and 
 dangers," I said, " before you entered upon your 
 nefarious proceedings. But it is not likely, for his 
 own sake, that the Marquis of Tynedale will court 
 exposure, or take any step calculated to give pub- 
 licity to an occurrence that would only cover him • 
 self with ridicule and shame. Besides, I have 
 promised to shield you to the utmost of my power; 
 and I will even condescend to intercede for you. 
 But you must come at once ! It is only half-past 
 six," I continued, consulting my watch ; " and you 
 will be in time to return for the ballet 'if in- 
 deed you have strength and spirit for appearing on 
 the stage to- night." 
 
 " It is my duty to obey you in all things," an- 
 swered Melissa ; " and I will accompany you. 
 But for God's sake save me from exposure, dis- 
 grace, and punishment !" 
 
 In a few minutes we issued forth together from 
 the house : we entered a cab, and we proceeded to 
 Kensington. Not a word was spoken during the 
 hour occupied by the drive. I could not give 
 utterance to any casual remark that might seem 
 to be of a friendly or familiar character ; and I 
 had nothing more to say for the present in re- 
 spect to the hideous transaction that had been so 
 fully developed to my knowledge. I hated the 
 companionship of Melissa : I loathed her contact : 
 I regarded her as a prodigy of ingratitude, deceit, 
 and wickedness, notwithstanding all the contritiou 
 she had displayed. My feelings were still too 
 acutely chafed to permit me to regard her in a 
 more charitable, merciful, and forgiving light. 
 What her feelings must have been, I could only 
 conjecture, and must therefore leave the reader to 
 I imagine. 
 { We reached Tynedale Lodge ; and I learnt on
 
 313 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OR, THE MEJIOIES OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 inquiry that the Marquis was at home. Without 
 sending in any name, I desired an immediate in- 
 terview with him ; and a footman speedily ushered 
 Melissa and myself to the handsomely furnished 
 drawing-room, where his lordship joined us in the 
 course of a few minutes. He evidently expected 
 not whom he was to see ; for the instant I raised 
 my veil he started with visible surprise and de- 
 light ; and then his eyes settled upon Melissa. 
 She also raised her veil on a sign that I made her 
 to this efifect : she was deadly pale, and so terribly 
 agitated that she could not rise from her seat 
 when the Marquis entered the room. He was 
 about to address me with a bland smile and a 
 tender look, when I at once exclaimed, " My lord, I 
 am here for a motive very different from that which 
 you can possibly imagine. A stupendous fraud 
 has been perpetrated upon you ; and were it not 
 that for my reputation's sake I am bold, I 
 should blush and sink down to the earth with 
 shame at thus finding myself compelled to breathe 
 a single syllable in allusion to such profligacy- 
 such infamy. But here is the female who visited 
 you the other night ! — this is Melissa Harrison, 
 the pretended friend who received your lordship's 
 letter which was addressed to myself — that letter 
 in which you agreed to the stipulations she laid 
 down ! Here too is a portion of the money for 
 which she committed the foul crime. The re- 
 mainder was kept possession of by her paramour, 
 who was also her accomplice. I hope to recover 
 at least a portion of that sum for your lordship ; 
 and if it be necessary I shall unhesitatingly pro- 
 claim his name — though for the present I think 
 fit to conceal it." 
 
 It was in the midst of this speech that I tossed 
 upon the table the gold and bank-notes I had re- 
 ceived from Melissa Harrison; and the speech 
 itself produced an almost overwhelming effect 
 upon the Marquis of Tynedale. Surprise was 
 quickly heightened into astonishment — astonish- 
 ment was succeeded by consternation — conster- 
 nation gave place to the excitement of rage — and 
 rushing towards Melissa, he demanded in a hoarse 
 voice, "Is this true, young woman ?— is it true ?" 
 
 " For God's sake spare me !" she cried, falling 
 upon hev knees and stretching forth her clasped 
 bands in anguished entreaty to the Marquis. 
 
 " Then it is true !" he ejaculated, smiting him- 
 self furiously upon the chest. " To be sure ! I 
 should have suspected it! Fool, dolt that I have 
 been! Those minute precautions — that thickly 
 folded veil — darkness — the stipulations— -and 
 then that interview which I had to-day in the 
 
 Park with you, Miss TraSord all these things 
 
 should have opened my eyes, if infatuated folly 
 had not rendered me blind ! Yes, it is but too 
 true !— and I have been the veriest dupe, the 
 most besotted idiot the sun ever shone upon !" 
 
 "If your lordship's own conduct were other- 
 wise," I said, "it would not have rendered you 
 thus liable to deception and plunder." 
 
 " By heaven !" he ejaculated, his whole form 
 quivering with rage, " it is enough to drive one 
 mad! But I will be revenged !" 
 
 He was rushing towards the door — a cry rang 
 from Melissa's lips— and I, laying my hand upon 
 the arm of the Marquis, said emphatically, " lie- 
 member, my lord, that in order to punish this 
 sinful young woman you must expose yourself ! 
 
 It is for you to judge whether you will dare the 
 ridicule of your friends, the scorn of the world, 
 the indignation of the good, and the contempt of 
 those who are as bad as you are." 
 
 He was visibly struck by my observations ; and 
 turning away from the door, ho surveyed Melissa 
 Harrison long and attentively. She had started 
 up from her kneeling posture when she gave vent 
 to that scream at the dread lest he intended to 
 summon the officers of justice to take her into 
 custody : and she was now standing, the picture 
 of distress, with her hands clasped. 
 
 " You have spoken truly. Miss Trafford," said 
 the Marquis, at length breaking silence— and he 
 now spoke in a far gentler voice than before : 
 " there must be no exposure !" 
 
 " And you are now to learn," I continued, 
 " how it happened that this erring young woman 
 was enabled to practice the deceit. She called 
 upon me a few minutes after 1 received your 
 letter containing the cheque. I showed her both 
 —for I believed that she was my friend— I be- 
 lieved likewise that she was well- principled. I 
 enclosed that letter and that cheque in a blank 
 envelope, to be returned to you — Melissa Harrison 
 undertook to deliver the packet your lordship 
 may imagine all the rest." 
 
 Having thus spoken, I bowed coldly and dis> 
 tantly to the Marquis of Tynedale, and moved 
 towards the door. Melissa followed me: but the 
 Marquis detained her for a moment while he whis- 
 pered something in her ear : and then she was 
 close behind me again. We both of us drew dowa 
 our veils as we issued from the house and took 
 our seats in the cab. The driver asked where he 
 was to take us?— and I bade him return into 
 London, telling him that I could presently pull the 
 check-string to give him additional orders — for I 
 was uncertain at the moment in respect to the 
 course which I should next pursue. I could not 
 trust Melissa, notwithstanding all the contrition 
 she had displayed and the terrorism which on ac- 
 count of her crime I was enabled to exercise over 
 her ; and I feared that if I lost sight of her before 
 all my objects were fully carried out, she might 
 give a speedy warning to Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe, and he might rush off to the Continent 
 with the intention of remaining there until the 
 storm should have blown over. 
 
 "Melissa," I said, after some few minutes of 
 reflection, " it is perhaps useless for me to inquire 
 what the Marquis of Tynedale whispered in your 
 ear at the instant you were following me from the 
 drawing-room—" 
 
 "What I" she exclaimed, "you think that I will 
 not tell you ? Oh ! rest assured that I mean to deal 
 truthfully with i/ou at least, in all things, as the 
 only means of showing my deep contrition for the 
 crime of which I have been guilty!" 
 
 "It is through no mere idle feeling of curiosity," 
 I said, "that I seek to learn what his lordship 
 may have whispered to you : but if it regard 
 myself, I am justified under all circumstances in 
 asking to be made acquainted with it." 
 
 " It was simply a request," responded Melissa, 
 in a low tone, " that I would call upon him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 I made no comment upon this explanation — it 
 evidently regarded me not at all : but 1 fancied 
 that I could fathom his lordship's design. Indeed
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACT3ESS. 
 
 313 
 
 , fh I 
 
 toy belief was that after ho had so attentively con- 
 templated Melissa, he found that she was to his 
 taste — that she was handsome and well-formed — 
 and that her person was attractive, — so that he 
 purposed to make her his mistress. But averting 
 my thoughts from that point— which was suffi- 
 ciently obnoxious to my feelings and repulsive to 
 my delicacy — I again reflected on the course which 
 I should pursue in reference to Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe. At length I said, " Melissa, when 
 are you next to see that young nobleman who has 
 been your accomplice in this lamentable trans- 
 action." 
 
 "He will be at the theatre this evening," she 
 answered: "he told me that he was to escort a 
 party of ladies; and I know that he has engaged 
 a box." 
 
 "Then we will repair to the theatre," I said, 
 " Is it your intention to dance this evening ?" 
 No. 40.— Ellbn Perct. 
 
 " If 1 go to the theatre, I must dance," re- 
 sponded Melissa. " What excuse could I possibly 
 make for declining to appear in the ballet? Be- 
 sides, I dare not risk the loss of my engagement — 
 I have now nothing but that to depend upon \" 
 
 I could not help thinking that there was in- 
 sincerity in Melissa's mind as she made these 
 observations, and that she was most anxious to 
 get to the theatre. Under this impression I sus- 
 pected that she would really seek an opportunity 
 to transmit a warning word to Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe ; and I was therefore resolved to lose 
 no time in adopting summary measures with that 
 young nobleman. I knew that it was of no use 
 to remonstrate with Melissa against any intention 
 that she might harbour of warning Lord Frederick 
 of the impending storm : for if she were resolved 
 upon such a course, she would be certain to carry 
 it out despite any promise that she might give to
 
 314 
 
 EtLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS, 
 
 tbo contrary. I Lad a difficult part to play ; for 
 if Lord Frederick should flee from London, all my 
 plans would be baffled and frustrated. 
 
 It was thus that I continued to reason within 
 myself; and I'.aving determined how to act, I 
 pulled the check-string and ordered the cabman to 
 drive to the theatre. It was now close upon nine 
 o'clock, an(J the performances had thereforo com- 
 meuceJ soma time previously. On arriving at the 
 theatre— where, be it observed, I had not to per- 
 form on this particular evening — I repaired 
 straight to my own dressing-room, and hastily 
 penned a note to my father; for I had arranged 
 with him, ere we separated in the Park, how I 
 might be enabled to see him again at any moment 
 during the remainder of the day, if circumstances 
 should necessitate any additional communication 
 between us. Having scaled and addressed the 
 note to Mr. Forsyth— which was the name he had 
 now adopted— I lost not a moment in despatching 
 it by one of the underlings of the theatre to a 
 coffee-house near Hunter Street, where my father 
 was to bo found. Having taken this step, I nest 
 ascertained which bos Lord Frederick Raveusclitfo 
 Lad secured for his party of ladies; and I went 
 and took my seat in one of the stage-boses, which 
 was always at my disposal, and where I could 
 obtain a view of the one occupied by the young 
 nobleman and his friends. I could not possibly 
 continue to keep a close watch on Melissa Harri- 
 son's proceedings ; for as she dressed in the same 
 room with several other ballet-dancers, it would 
 Lave looked exceedingly strange if I had followed 
 her thither. I therefore took such precautions as 
 were within the limit of my power; and I was 
 compelled to leave something to the chapter of 
 accidents. 
 
 There were six ladies in tbo bos which Lord 
 Trederiok Eivenseliffe had engaged; and he him- 
 self was present with them. They were all young; 
 and one of them— to whom he evidently paid the 
 greatest attention — was sweetly beautiful. She 
 formed as it were the centre of the group : she was 
 dressed with simplicity, but in a manner that ad- 
 ruirably became her modest, delicate, and un- 
 assuming loveliness. She bad light hair ; and the 
 espression of her countecanca was replete with 
 goodness and innocence. Being myself unseen in 
 the stage-bos to which I had retii-ed, I was enabled 
 to watch the group to which lam alluding; and I 
 speedily beheld certain little manifestations on the 
 young nobleman's part which led me to suspect 
 that ho was paying his court to the interesting 
 young lady. If it were so, I experienced much 
 commiseration for her in case her heart should 
 have become engaged to that profligate patrieiau : 
 but on the other hand, I was well pleased to think 
 that I possessed the means of preventing an al- 
 liance which, if solemnized, could only result in 
 the unhappiness of that interesting creature. 
 Seven months had now elapsed since his contem- 
 plated union with Lady Cecilia Urban was broken 
 off in the manner which I have described in a 
 previous chapter; and there had consequently 
 been plenty of time for Lord Frederick to discover 
 some other heiress whose purse would be most 
 useful to one of his extravagant habits. 
 
 JuUot Norman, who knew that I was at the 
 tlieatre, presently joined me for a few minutes in 
 the private box ; and as she glanced towards that 
 
 other box which I had been watching, she said 
 with a bitter expression of countenance, " That 
 traitor! — he has not even the delicacy, under 
 existing circumstances, to remain away from a 
 place where he knows that I cannot fail to observe 
 his proceedings!" 
 
 I made no answer; and Juliet went on to say, 
 " You see that he is paying marked attention to 
 Felicia Gower ?" 
 
 '• Is that the name of the young lady with the 
 light hair and who has a bDuquet in her hand ?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " Yes," replied Juliet: "I just now heard her 
 name mentioned. Her father is a rich country 
 gentleman — a widower ; and she is an only child. 
 She will inherit a large fortune at his death ; and 
 no doubt if she were to marry, he would give her 
 a handsome dower. Eat she shall not be sacri- 
 ficed !" 
 
 "No— she shall not, Juliet!" I said emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 " Ah ! I am delighted (o hear this assurauoe 
 from your lips!" rejoined Juliet. " It was you, 
 dearest Ellen, who prevented his marriage with 
 Lady Cecilia Urban ; and thoutjh I neve* kuew 
 the means which you adopted to achieve that 
 aim " 
 
 "No matter what the meaaa were," I gaailingly 
 interrupted her; "you saw that I succeeded — 
 and I think I may safely promise you an eqiiidij 
 signal success in the present instance." 
 
 Juliet pressed my hand, and hurried away from 
 the box; for she had not as yet commsaoed her 
 toilet for the ballet. When she was gone, I 
 thought to myself, as I glanced towards Lord 
 Frederick Eivenseliffe, " The oonduot of that 
 young nobleman is indelicate in more ways tlian 
 one. He brings a virtuous and innocent youug 
 lady to a theatre, where, upon the same stage, 
 will presently appear Juliet the victim of his vil- 
 lany, and Melissa his present mistress !" 
 
 At this moment I saw the door of Lord Fre- 
 derick's box open; and one of the box-keepers 
 handed him a note. 
 
 "That is from my father !" I instentancously 
 said to myself : and then, as a thought struck me, 
 I musingly added, "No — he can scarcely yet have 
 had time to pen a note and to reach the theatre. 
 It may be from Melissa, conveying the warning 
 which I all along suspected the treacherous crea- 
 ture would find some means to give ! Infatuated 
 must she be to care for one who pays his court to 
 another almost before her very eyes !" 
 
 But as these thoughts ran rapidly through ray 
 mind, I still kept my looks fixed upon Lord Fre- 
 derick's box. I saw him take the note from the 
 hand of the box-keeper : then I beheld him bend 
 down over Miss Gower's chair, behind which he 
 was standing : he whispered something in her ear 
 — he was no doubt courteously asking the usual 
 permission to open the note which had just been 
 placed in his handd. She looked up and smiled 
 with gracious sweetness. Yes, methought, she 
 assuredly loved him ! Poor girl ! what a dagger 
 was to be shortly thrust into her heart ! 1 felt 
 deeply for her. 
 
 Lord Frederick opened the billet; and scarcely 
 had his eyes caught sight of the contents, when I 
 behold him stagger as if he were smitten a sudden 
 blow ; and the note drooped from his hand. It
 
 EtLBN PEECT; OK, THE MEM0IE3 03? AH ACTRESS. 
 
 315 
 
 fell into iliss Gower's lap ; aad she, doubtless 
 thinking that he had playfully dropped it there for 
 her to reail, instantaneously took it up. The next 
 moment Lord Frederick snatched it from her 
 hand : then the unfortunate Felicia sank back in 
 her chair — and all was immediately coufusioa in 
 that box, for she had fainted. 
 
 The incidents which I have just described were 
 all the work of a few instants; and as the general 
 attention of the audience was at the time riveted 
 upon the performance that was in progress upon 
 the stage, I did not think it probable that many 
 eyes besides my own observed all the minutiae of 
 that little scene previous to the swooning of Felicia 
 Gower. Then there was the usual sensation v.-hich 
 occurs in a theatre when any such incident takes 
 place ; and I heard several voices in the pit saying, 
 "She has fainted through the heat." 
 
 Lord Frederick Baveusclilfe sustained her in his 
 arms for a moment or two, until her lady-corn^ 
 panions lent their succour; and the poor girl was 
 borne out of the box. I knew not now what 
 course to adopt. "Whether it were a note from 
 Melissa or from my father which had produced 
 such an effect first of all upon Lord Frederick 
 himself, and then upon Felicia, it nevertheless ap- 
 peared quite certain that the young nobleman had 
 become aware of some impending storm. Would 
 he now endeavour to save himself by flight .'' I 
 was for some moments bewildered how to act,— • 
 when I suddenly resolved upon repairing to the 
 eutrance-hall of the theatre. Thither I accord- 
 ingly sped; and just at that moment my father 
 made his appearance— not ia his disguise, but in 
 bis usual apparel. 
 
 " Here is the note !" he at once said as I ac- 
 costed him. " Let it be sent to Lord Frederick !" 
 " No — it is useless," I replied ; for I was now 
 convinced that t!ie billet which had been delivered 
 to the youQg nobleman in the box emanated from 
 Melissa. '•' Follow me quickly !" 
 
 I hastily led the way up the grand staircase : I 
 showed my father the passage communicating 
 with tho tier of boxes to which Lord Frederick's 
 belonged; and I said, "You will find him some- 
 where in that direction !" 
 
 But scarcely had I thus spoken, when Lord 
 Frederick himself was seen advancing, sustaining 
 Felicia with his arm. She had now recovered : 
 the other young ladies were following; and it was 
 evident that the party was about to leave the 
 theatre. Lord Frederick was whispering in a low 
 and earnest tone to Miss Gower, who was as white 
 as a sheet and had an anxious, dismayed, and be- 
 wildered look. Doubtless her treacherous com- 
 panion was endeavouring to reassure her in re- 
 spect to the c intents of the billet, whatever they 
 were, which had produced such a powerful effect 
 upon her. Indeed, so intent was he on his earnest 
 whispering in her ear, that he did not at first 
 notice my father, who was advancing to meet him 
 — while I, with my veil drawn down over my 
 countenance, remained at a little distance. 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Lord Frederick, as he sud- 
 denly caught sight of mj father's countenance. 
 " You here i" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied my father ; " and I 
 desire immediate speech with your lordship. Per- 
 haps you will read this note:" — and he handed 
 the one he had written accordinfr to tho instruc- 
 
 tions contained ia the letter which I had sent off 
 by the underline of the theatre. 
 
 '• This lady," I said, now stepping forward, and 
 alluding to Felicia — who, as well as her com- 
 panions, was eviJently astonished at the inci- 
 dent that was transpiring, — " has just been seized 
 with indisposition in the theatre ; and perhaps it 
 will be better for his lordship to escort her to her 
 carriage before he reads that note." 
 
 "Y'es, yes — I will do so!" exclaimed tho young 
 nobleman, who had started with terror and sur- 
 prise on recognising me, while his whole appear- 
 ance was that of a person who felt as if he were 
 standing on the very brink of perdition. 
 
 He hurried Felicia away,— the other young 
 ladies closely following ; while my father and I 
 brought up the rear; for I was determined not 
 to lose sight of the young nobleman— and having 
 a most difficult as well as important business in 
 hand, I could not be swayed by any consideration 
 of what the young ladies might think. "We de- 
 scended the stairs — we reached the entrance-hall 
 — and there Lord Frederick bade some one go out 
 and inquire for the carriages of Lord Carshalton 
 and Mr. Gower. During the few minutes which 
 elapsed ere the messenger returned, I saw that 
 Lord Frederick continued to speak in a low and 
 earnest manner to Felicia : but she no longer held 
 his arm — she looked agitated and distressed- she 
 listened in silence to what he said — and she flung 
 anxious inquiring glances towards my father and 
 myself. I continued to feel deeply pained on ac- 
 count of the young lady, who evidently saw that 
 something was wrong : but there was no help for 
 it — it was impossible to avoid the infliction of the 
 distress of perplexity upon her mind. 
 
 The messenger returned with the intimation 
 that the carriages were in readiness ; and tho 
 party pursued its way down the steps at the en- 
 trance of the theatre. Felicia and three of hec 
 companions were handed into one equipage : the 
 two remaining young ladies took their saats ia 
 the other. Lord Frederick lifted his hat in fare- 
 well salutation ; and as tho carriages drove off, ha 
 turned round, to be immediately confronted by my 
 father and myself. 
 
 " My lord," I said, " if you value your own 
 safety, utter not here a single syllable that may be 
 overheard by the persons standing by !" 
 
 He was completely dismayed by my presence ; 
 and I therefore know that Melissa must have con- 
 veyed to him the warning that I had discovered 
 everything in respect to Lord Tynedale's chequ9. 
 
 " But this note," faltered Lord Frederick, 
 glancing at my father, — " this note which you 
 placed in my hand—" 
 
 " It is unnecessary to read it now," I hastily 
 interrupted him. "You will accompany us to 
 Hunter Street." 
 
 I spoke in a peremptory manner ; and the yoirag 
 nobleman looked as if he were about to be led 
 forth to tho place of execution. A cab was at 
 once summoned : we all three entered it ; and it 
 drove away fcum the theatre.
 
 S16 
 
 ELLEN PEBCT; OB, THB MEMOIBS 09 i.X ACTBE88. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 IHE RE3ULX OF THE PLAN. 
 
 1 8H0ULO here explain that tlie note which my 
 father had written, to be sent in to Lord Frede- 
 rick Eavenscliffe's box, was to the effect that he 
 deeired an immediate interview with the young 
 nobleman on the most urgent and important busi- 
 ness regarding his lordship himself. If that note 
 had been delivered, as originally intended — and if 
 Lord Frederick had come forth to the entrance- 
 hall whither it summoned him — my father would 
 have informed him " that he was required to pro- 
 ceed at once to Hunter Street to be confronted 
 with Miss Percy in reference to Lord Tynedale's 
 cheque." It was then my intention to have left 
 the stage-box so soon as I should have seen Lord 
 Frederick quit his own box ; and then I should 
 have taken a cab to convey me with all possible 
 despatch to Hunter Street. But, as the reader 
 has seen, Melissa's warning missive had given a 
 different turn to the proceedings — though it was 
 now all the same to my father and myself, since 
 we had Lord Frederick a captive in our power 
 and the desired aim was thus far accomplished. 
 
 I knew perfectly well that Lord Frederick 
 Eavenseliffe must now speedily begin to suspect 
 the degree of close affinity which subsisted be- 
 tween my father and myself. From his own 
 father he had heard the history of the past career 
 of mine : he was consequently aware that my 
 parent's name was Percy — and now that he found 
 us thus together, acting in concert, he could not 
 fail to surmise that which might never before 
 have struck him. Sut for all this I was fully 
 prepared. I no longer sought to hide the matter 
 from the young nobleman; and I knew that so far 
 as the world at large was concern3d, I had the 
 means of insuring his secrecy. Indeed, I had 
 purposely brought my father as an active agent 
 into the present proceeding, in order that by his 
 interference in a good cause he might atone for 
 his former complicity in an evil one— and that this 
 atonement should be known not merely to the 
 young nobleman who had coerced my sire into 
 his iniquitous service, but likewise to the Normans 
 who had suffered so much through that deplorable 
 complicity. 
 
 We had not been seated many moments in the 
 cab, when I said to Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe, 
 " You must not imagine that he who accompanies 
 me is any longer in your power j for he has ob- 
 tained his pardon!" 
 
 "Yes — I know it," said the young nobleman. 
 "My father told me that he had been induced 
 — for some reasons which he did not however 
 explain — to intercede with the Home Secre- 
 tary " 
 
 " Then I will reveal to you that secret," I in- 
 terrupted him, " which your parents have evi- 
 dently kept with the most scrupulous generosity. 
 You know that my real name is Percy — that this 
 is likewise the real name " 
 
 " Ah ! I understand !" ejaculated Lord Frede- 
 rick, in accents of astonishment. " I was already 
 beginning to think, though confusedly and bewil- 
 deringly " 
 
 "But imagine not," I again interrupted him, 
 
 " that the knowledge of this secret will in any 
 manner avail you in the proceedings that are 
 about to take place. A secret it is so far as the 
 world generally is concerned — and a secret it shall 
 remain. But " 
 
 " For heaven's sake. Miss Percy," cried Lord 
 Frederick entreatingly, " tell me what you are 
 going to do P I know that you have discovered 
 everything " 
 
 "Yes — your guilty accomplice Melissa Harri- 
 son," I interjected, " has conveyed you a word of 
 warning. I saw a note placed in your hand in the 
 box. Oh ! I was infinitely concerned for the sake 
 of that young lady——" 
 
 " Good God ! what must she think ?" exclaimed 
 Lord Frederick, in accents of despair. " I feel as 
 if I were going mad— there is a wildness in my 
 
 brain But I will die, Miss Percy, sooner than 
 
 endure exposure in respect to what has come to 
 your knowledge ! My father and mother would 
 break their hearts! — my elder brother, who is 
 honour personified, would scorn and despise me ! 
 In a word——" 
 
 " I will give you no explanations here" I in- 
 terrupted him. " But as I feel interested in the 
 unfortunate young lady whom you have doubtless 
 led to believe that you love, and who I fear loves 
 you deeply in return— I would fain know to what 
 extent she has this night been shocked, horrified, 
 and dismayed on your account. She saw the 
 billet which Melissa sent to you — its contents 
 produced a powerful effect upon her ■" 
 
 "Here is the billet," said Lord Frederick, 
 taking it from his waistcoat-pocket and presenting 
 it to me : fur he was now as submissive and humble, 
 as docile and as tractable as ever he had been 
 haughty and cruel, remorseless and supercilious. 
 
 By the aid of the gas-lights in the shops by 
 which we were passing, I read the few words 
 which Melissa had penned in the billet, and which 
 were as follow:— 
 
 " Ellen has discovered everything— and she is 
 meditating some mischief against you. Fly!-— 
 lose not a moment in departing for the Continent ! 
 I will join you at Calais." 
 
 No name was appended to this billet ; and as it 
 was written very hurriedly and with a wretched 
 pen, it would have been impossible for any one 
 unacquainted with the circumstances, to decide 
 whether it was scribbled by a male or female 
 hand. Thus Miss Gower could have had no cer- 
 tainty on that point ; and it was no doubt one of 
 the details which Lord Frederick had been endea- 
 vouring to reason upon and explain away, when 
 he was whispering so earnestly in the young lady's 
 ear. 
 
 The cab soon reached Hunter Street; and it 
 stopped at Mr. Norman's house. The Normans 
 were still at the theatre, where I knew that they 
 would be detained for at least another hour ; and 
 thus there was ample time to enter into explana- 
 tions with Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe before 
 their return. My father alighted first ; and I 
 saw that he was keeping a close watch upon the 
 young nobleman as he followed next, so as to pre- 
 vent him from suddenly taking to his heels. He 
 did not however appear to have any intention of 
 this kind : his energies wore paralysed — he was
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE 1IEMOIH3 OP AX ACTEKS3. 
 
 317 
 
 utterly discomfited, crushed, and spirit-broken. 
 We entered tlio house : the servant who opened 
 the door, looked surprised to find me accompanied 
 by a person who was a stranger to him, and by 
 Lord Frederick BavensclifTe ; for a long while had 
 elapsed since the latter had last visited at that 
 dwelling. 
 
 I conducted my father and the young nobleman 
 to the drawing-room ; and having hastily thrown 
 off my bonnet and scarf upon a sofa, I said to my 
 father, " You have yet to learn the full extent of 
 that infamy which has been practised towards 
 your daughter !" 
 
 " If your father knows it not already, Miss 
 P<?rcy," cried Lord Frederick in a voice of the 
 most anguished entreaty, " I beseech you that he 
 may remain ignorant of it !" 
 
 " ily father already knows much upon the sub- 
 ject," I said, the indignant blood mantling upon 
 my cheeks; "and he shall know everything. Ah! 
 I can assure you, my lord, it is a very painful 
 ordeal for me to pass through ! Kever in all my 
 life before, did I experience an anger so fierce ! — 
 never were my feelings so terribly outraged ! 
 Father," I continued, "this is the guilty indi- 
 vidual who devised the hideous fraud upon the 
 Marquis of Tynedale !— a fraud in which Melissa 
 Harrison was his profligate and abandoned accom- 
 plice ! But if providence had not opened a clue 
 for the unravelment of the whole skein of vil- 
 lany, the Marquis would have continued in w be- 
 lief most fatal to my character— —Ob, my blood 
 boils as I think of it !" 
 
 "Good God!" cried my father; "has human 
 wickedness gone to this fearful extent ? I under- 
 stand you, Ellen— I can now read it all ! Infa- 
 mous villain that you are !" he exclaimed, thus 
 suddenly addressing himself to Lord Frederick ; 
 and in a violent paroxysm of rage he seized the 
 young nobleman forcibly by the collar of bis 
 coat. 
 
 " Miss Percy, for heaven's sake spare me I" 
 said Havenscliffe, in a voice of anguish. 
 
 " Unhand him, father," I said : " do him no 
 violence ! — for there is one reason— and one reason 
 only, which prevents me from regretting that all 
 this has taken place, now that my character is 
 completely cleared and Lord Tynedale is disabused 
 of the ideas which hs eotertaiued concerning 
 me." 
 
 "Villain!" ejaculated my father : and he flung 
 the young nobleman from him ere he loosened his 
 hold upon his garment. 
 
 Lord Frederick fell upon a chair, where he sat 
 gazing upon me with a countenance that was 
 ghastly pale, and he was striving to give utterance 
 to some words : but for a while he could not. My 
 father paced to and fro in au excited manner ; 
 and I was so agitated by the nature of my feel- 
 ings that I could not at once resume my discourse 
 to Havenscliffe. 
 
 " Fur God's sake tell me, Miss Percy," he at 
 length said, — " Lord Tynedale knows everything 
 what will he do ? what does he threaten .'" 
 
 " He does not as yet know that i/ou were the 
 kistigator of the infamous fraud which that aban- 
 doned young woman perpetrated towards him. It 
 rests with yourself, my lord," I continued, " whether 
 the secret be kept — or whether it be proclaimed, 
 not merely to the Marquis of Tynedale, but to 
 
 the whole world. You know in whose house you 
 now are : — you know that presently the victim 
 of your foulest deception will return hither : — you 
 may probably surmise for what purpose you have 
 been brought to this abode. An act of justice 
 must be accomplished ! Juliet !N'orman has been 
 dishonoured by you — and you must repair the 
 evil ! Are you willing to do this as the sole con- 
 dition on which I will consent to keep that secret 
 whose revelation would stamp you with indelible 
 infamy ?" 
 
 " My God !— and Felicia ?" ejaculated Eavens- 
 cliffe, starting up in sudden frenzy from his seat. 
 
 " Ah, poor girl !" I said, with a deep sigh : 
 " she will doubtless suffer much from this ill-fated 
 love which she has conceived towards you ! But 
 even if I had it not in my power to demand for 
 Juliet the accomplishment of this act of justice, 
 I would not at all events suffer Mr. Gower, un- 
 warned or unadvised concerning your true cha- 
 racter, to bestow bis daughter upon your lord- 
 ship ?" 
 
 "But if I marry Juliet," exclaimed Havens* 
 cliffe, with anguished and passionate vehemence, 
 " how am I to maintain her P— how am I to main- 
 tain myself P I am ruined. Everything which 
 I inherited from the bounty of deceased relatives, 
 has been made away with. I am overwhelmed 
 with debts— I am a younger son— the allowance 
 my father makes me is insignificant— and if I were 
 to marry a ballet-dancer, he would discard me ut- 
 terly." 
 
 " It is impossible to take all these things into 
 consideration," I said, firmly and decisively ; "you 
 have robbed Juliet of her honour — you must make 
 her an honourable woman ! Even if you separate 
 immediately after the ceremony, this must be done : 
 and even if she be compelled to continue upon 
 the stage, as Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe the 
 ballet-dancer, still I repeat it must be done ! She 
 has but one thing to care for — and that is to have 
 the sacred name of wife conferred upon her. As 
 for the circumstances which personally regard 
 yourself alone, they are utterly beyond all con- 
 sideration. You had no consideration for poor 
 Juliet's feelings when you so grossly deceived her : 
 and do you therefore for an instant imagine that 
 there shall be a delicate consideration on your own 
 account?" 
 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe gazed upon me 
 with a half frenzied, half woe-begone expression of 
 countenance, as I thus addressed him. But he 
 beheld nothing in my Loks to encourage the 
 faintest hope that I would recall anything that I 
 had said : he glanced at my father, who was now 
 standing with folded arms— and his features were 
 stern and resolute. 
 
 " Yes, my lord," he said, stepping forward, "you 
 shall do justice to that young woman whom you 
 so basely injured. You made use of the power 
 which the knowledge of my sad secret gave you, 
 to coerce me into an infamous complicity in your 
 crime: but now the tables are turned, and I make 
 use of my power over you to unite with my 
 daughter in enforcing this act of justice. If I 
 have sinned deeply, I am now at least making the 
 best atonement that is in my power. Yes, my 
 lord, you see before you two persons who are 
 firmly resolved to vindicate a female's outraged 
 honour; and the reparation shall be effected by youl"
 
 818 
 
 EtliEK PBRCT; OB, THB MBSI0IE9 OF AS ACTEE3?« 
 
 "I am in your hands," said the young noble- 
 tnan, as if he were speaking in a dying tone : " I 
 must yield to this strong eoaipulsioa !" 
 
 "'Tis Tre!l that you have so decided," I said. 
 "But yott have yet something more to do. How- 
 much remains to you of the sum of four thousand 
 five hundred guineas which you retained as your 
 share of the Marquis of Tynedale's cheque ? Deal 
 frankly with me — beware how you deceire me— 
 Melissa has confessed everything " 
 
 "I will speak truthfully," answered the young 
 nobleman. " A considerable portion I have ex- 
 pended : the remainder is at my banker's." 
 
 '•■ Who is your banker ?" demanded my father 
 abruptly. 
 
 BavenscliSb named the firm with which he 
 transacted his financial business. 
 
 " Grood !" said my father. '•' Now if you deceive 
 us iu respect to the amount that you have in your 
 banker's hands, wo shall be enabled to discover 
 the deception." 
 
 "I ^ill not deceive you !" responded Ravens- 
 cliffe. " I know that I have something above a 
 couple of thousand pounds in my banker's hands." 
 
 '•'Sit down immediately," said my father, "and 
 Write a draft for two thousand pounds. That 
 amount shall be returned to the Marquis of Tyne- 
 dale." 
 
 "Yes— such was my intention," I said. "The 
 money you left in Melissa's hands, has all, with the 
 exception of a few pounds, been restored to his 
 lordship. He will still suffer considerable loss : 
 but I cannot pity hitn. It is through no friendly 
 feeling towards the Marquis of Tynedale that I 
 seek thus to procure the restitution of as much as 
 possible of the amount which he sought to expend 
 for an infamous purpose : but it is because justice 
 requires that naither you nor Melissa may profit 
 more than can ba helped from the elfecta of your 
 own crime." 
 
 Lord Frederick Eivenscliffe sat down at the 
 table upon which there were writing materials : 
 his countenance was still ghastly pale— and his 
 hand trembled so that for upwards of a minute he 
 was scarcely able to guide the pen. My father 
 bade him take time; and at length the young 
 nobleman accomplished his task. I bade my 
 father take charge of the cheque ; and I said, 
 "To-morrow the Marquis of Tynedale shall receive 
 the amount." 
 
 "But my name will not be mentioned ?" ex- 
 claimed Lord Frederick entreatingly. 
 
 "I have already pledged myself to that effect," 
 I replied. " In a word, my lord, your terrible 
 secret shall travel no farther than it is already 
 known, if you pledge yourself to keep my father's 
 secret. The Xormans will presently know that 
 he is my father " 
 
 "But why so, Ellen?'* asked my sire, asto- 
 nished at the announcement. 
 
 "Because the system of concealment must no 
 longer be maintained with such kind friends as 
 those," 1 replied ; " and because it is necessary I 
 should explain to them how you and I were acting 
 together. Yes — they shall know that you are my 
 father ; but of your past life they need know no- 
 thing ! Therefore, my lord," I continued, again 
 addressing myself to Eavenseliffi.', " your stupen- 
 dous secret shall be kept so long as you faithfully 
 maintain my father's sal secret. She whom to- 
 
 I morrow you will espouse, shall never learn from 
 ' my lips by what means the espousal itself was 
 I brought about. I will give Juliet and the Xor« 
 j mans to understand that it was my father who 
 I did it all, by threatening to expose the whole plot 
 t of the mock marriage to the world, surrender him* 
 ^ self up to justice, and hand your lordship over to 
 : the law's strong arm at the same time." 
 
 Scarcely had I thus spoken, when the Normans' 
 
 carriage was heard to stop in front of the house ; 
 
 ' and making a sign to my father to keep a watch 
 
 1 upon Lord Frederick, I issued from the room. 
 
 My heart now palpitated violently : I was about 
 
 ' to impart to the Nofmans intelligence of the most 
 
 • momentous character — though I had no doubt how 
 
 : it would be received : for 1 knew that Juliet 
 
 I would readily adopt a course that was calculated 
 
 to elevate her in her own opinion by atoning for 
 
 her dishonour ; and her parents had occasionally 
 
 said to me, when I happened to be alone with 
 
 them, that they should not have cared so mucli if 
 
 Lord Frederick had only espoused Juliet, even 
 
 though he had cast her off almost immediately, for 
 
 still she would have been a wife, and she would 
 
 not have lived in the constant terror lest the 
 
 secret of her disgrace should transpire. 
 
 I Hastily descending the stairs — my heart beating 
 
 as audibly as the rapid tread of my feet themselves 
 
 I —I met the Normans in the hall. 
 
 I " Why, Ellen," exclaimed Juliet, "' what made 
 
 you quit the theatre so suddenly ? I thought you 
 
 , intended to wait to come home with us " 
 
 I " I have much to explain, dear Juliet," was 
 I my response. 
 
 I " Good heavens ! has anything happened ?" ahe 
 ^ exclaimed. "' You have a strange look, as if you 
 
 ', were agitated and excited " 
 
 " Come this way," I said, beckoning Juliet and 
 her parents to follow me; and I led them into tho 
 ; dining-room, where a lamp was burning upon the 
 supper-table. 
 
 " What has happened, my dear girl ?" asked 
 Mrs. Norman, throwing herself upon a chair and 
 looking frightened. 
 
 " Nothing to alarm you," I hastened to ex- 
 claim : "so set all your fears at rest I But I 
 think — I hope indeed that I have intelligence to 
 impart which will not be altogether disagreeable. 
 Nay, I am sure you will all three rejoice !" 
 j Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet surveyed me 
 with the utmost curiosity and bewilderment : but 
 : not to keep them longer than was necessary in a 
 state of suspense, I said, " Juliet, my dear friend, 
 answer me ! If Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe were 
 to enter the room this moment and offer to confer 
 upon yau the honourable name of loife, would you 
 accept or refuse the proposition ?" 
 
 " Good heaven 1 is this possible ?" cried Juliet, 
 clasping her hands together. "' If any one else 
 put such a question, I should say that it was a 
 cruel jest ! But yoa, Ellen, I know are inca- 
 pable " 
 
 i "■ Ah, if it were indeed true ?" said Mr. Nor- 
 ' man. 
 
 " What joy ! what happiness ! " exclaimed his 
 wife : " for then poor Juliet might look the world 
 
 I boldly in the face " 
 
 " And it is true !" T said. "' To-morrow, my 
 . dear friend, shall you become a wife !" 
 ! With a wild cry of delight Juliet flew into my
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3. 
 
 319 
 
 arms : she embraced me with the utmost fervour 
 —she covered ray cheeks with kisses, as well as 
 with the tears of joy wiiich flowed from her eyes. 
 Then she sank, cxfanusted with her feelings, upon 
 chair. Mrs. Norman embraced me ; and Mr, 
 
 irregularities of life he fell from bis position as a 
 gentleman — and when he performed that ceremony 
 which was the cause of your unhappiness, Juliet, 
 he was not lawfully capable of solemnizing it. But 
 now all shall bo repaired— all atoned for ; and to- 
 
 Norman, pressing my hand, said, "Heaven bless i morrow shall we greet you as Lady Frederick 
 you, Ellen ! You are a good angel to us !" Eavenjcliife !" 
 
 There was a paus?, during which we all gave, ! After a little more conversation, I left the Xor- 
 way to the emotions that were agitating within us | mans in the dining-room, and ascended to the 
 —until at length Mr. Norman asked, " But how ; drawing-room. There I found my father placed 
 
 came all this about p Surely it was not of bia 
 
 own free will " 
 
 " Oh, no !" exclaimed Juliet : " we cannot for 
 an instant suppose it ! I am fully prepared to 
 learn that Frederick is acting under coercion. 
 But no matter ! To become a wife— to be relieved 
 from the horrible apprehension that the secret of 
 
 near the door, evidently for the purpose of pro- 
 venting any sudden escape on the part of the 
 young nobleman. As for Lord Frederick himself, 
 he was seated on a sofa on the opposite side of the 
 apartment,— his face buried in his hands, and his 
 elbows resting upon bis knees. He did not hear 
 the door open : he was not aware of my presenca 
 
 my shame may at any moment by an accident be until I began to address him. 
 
 revealed " " My lord," I said, " Juliet and her parents 
 
 "Yes — be is acting under coercion," I said; have returned home: I have communicated to 
 " and that coercion is of the strongest kind ! You ^them the decision which you have adopted— but 
 know Lim who bore the name of Croft Oh ! I have in every sense respected your secret accord- 
 
 give not utterance to harsh epithets towards him ! 
 —he is now making every atonement — it ia to 
 him that you are indebted for this audden and 
 happy change !" 
 
 " Then for the good he is now doing," said Mr. 
 Norman, " we will pardon him the whole amount 
 of past evil." 
 
 " Yes— wo will ! we will !" exclaimed Mrs. Nor- 
 man, with equal enthusiasm. 
 
 " Ob, most cheerfully ! most cheerfully !" cried 
 Juliet, with all the mingled nervousness and ex- 
 citement of feelings agitated by hope, suspense, 
 joy, and gratitude. 
 
 '•■ Now prepare yourselves," I said, in a solemn 
 tone, " to hear something of a startling character, 
 —something which if I have so long concealed 
 from you, it has been through no want of confi- 
 dence—no deficiency of friendly feeling— but from 
 a motive which perhaps you will easily compre- 
 hend. In a word, he whom you know as Mr. 
 Croft— he whom you have so generously pro- 
 claimed your intention of forgiving he is my 
 
 own father !" 
 
 Ejaculations of astonishment burst from the 
 lips of Juliet and her mother; but Mr. Norman 
 stood regarding me with a vacant and bewildered 
 expression of countenance. 
 
 " Yes— it is so !" I continued j " it is so ! The 
 discovery was made when I went to Embledon 
 some few months after that deplorable proceeding 
 in which my unfortunate father assisted — for he 
 has been unfortunate " 
 
 "No matter, Ellen!" exclaimed Juliet, the 
 tears flowing from her eyes, — " no matter that he 
 should have been an accessory in injuring me ! He 
 is now repairing the mischief to the extent of his 
 power— and Oh ! even if it were otherwise, I 
 should for your sake forgive him !" 
 
 '•' Generous friend !" I murmured, embracing 
 Juliet warmly : and I received similarly kind 
 assurances from her parents. 
 
 " He is in the house at this moment," I said, 
 wiping away the tears that were trickling also 
 from ray own eyes. " He and Lord Frederick are 
 together — they are in the drawing-room — and the 
 young nobleman is completely under the influence 
 of my father. But I should explain to you that 
 my father was once a clergyman — through certain 
 
 ing to the promise which I made you." 
 
 "And Juliet will accept me?" said Lord Frede- 
 rick, suddenly gazing up into my countenance: 
 and ia a moment I read what was passing in his 
 mind : — as a last faint hope he was clinging to tho 
 idea that Juliet might after all refuse to accom- 
 pany him to the altar. 
 
 " Yes— she accepts you," I replied. "And now 
 we must deliberate upon the final arrangements." 
 
 "Leave them all to me, Ellen," said my father, 
 " I have already informed Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe that he will accompany me hence, and that 
 he will pass the night at my lodgings. Be not 
 afraid that he will endeavour to escape : he knows 
 the penalty of making such an attempt. At the 
 slightest evidence thereof would I pitilessly and 
 remorselessly hand him over to the custody of tho 
 police ! In short, he is well aware that this is a 
 matter in which therMPUst be neither trifling not 
 treachery." ^ 
 
 "Believe me," said the young nobleman, in a 
 low deep voice, " I am a man so completely 
 broken down by all that has happened— so utterly 
 degraded in my own estimation — that my energy 
 is crushed— I am as a child in your hands— and I 
 accept the destiny of which ye have become the 
 arbiters." 
 
 " Bid Mr. Norman bave ererytbing in readi- 
 ness here to-morrow at eleven in the forenoon," 
 whispered my father to me. "Let the clergy- 
 man be present. I will take care that Lord 
 Frederick does not escape me : I will bring a 
 special license ; and the ceremony shall be accom- 
 plished. Your friend Juliet shall at least receira 
 the honourable title of a wife : but what her hus- 
 band's subsequent conduct may be— what arrange- 
 ments he may propose, or how he may deport 
 himself towards her— it is impossible for us to 
 conjecture !" 
 
 " True, dear father," I replied : " those matters 
 we must leave to chance. But there is one thing 
 I have to communicate : it is that the Normans 
 
 have most cordially forgiven you and this 
 
 assurance they will breathe in your ear when you 
 meet." 
 
 My father wrung my hand : he then beckoned 
 Lord Frederick to precede him : the young noble- 
 man bowed to me with mingled courtesy and dis-
 
 320 
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIItS OF AW ACTRESS. 
 
 tress— and the next moment I was alone in the 
 drawing-room. When I heard the front door 
 close, I descended to the dining-room, where I 
 informed the Normans of the arrangements that 
 were made for the morrow. I then proceeded to 
 acquaint them with everything Lord Frederick 
 had said with respect to his ruined circumstances. 
 
 " I am afraid, dearest Juliet," I considered it 
 my duty to add, " that in becoming a wife you 
 will not obtain an independent position. You 
 
 will receive a patrician title " 
 
 " And Juliet shall leave the stage," exclaimed 
 Mr. Norman, " whether her husband be enabled 
 to support her or not. We must live less expen- 
 sively — that is all ! But her mother and myself 
 can always command sufficient salaries to keep us 
 
 in comfort " 
 
 " Let us not deliberate upon these matters for 
 the present," said Juliet : " it will be sufficient 
 time when the ceremony shall have taken place ; 
 for I can hardly yet believe that everything will 
 progress smoothly." 
 
 " Rest assured that it will, dear Juliet," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 We shortly after separated to our respective 
 chambers ; and well wearied with all the exciting 
 scenes that had characterized this memorable day, 
 I soon sank into the arms of slumber. 
 
 I slept later than usual in the morning ; so that 
 I had not opened my eyes before Beda entered, 
 bringing two letters. One had been just delivered 
 by the postman — the other was brought almost at 
 the same moment by a livery-servant. The letter 
 which had arrived by post, had deep black edges to 
 the envelope : but this did not alarm me, as I in- 
 stantaneously recognised the handwriting of Mary 
 G-lentworth, who was in mourning for her mother. 
 Being in a hurry to rise and perform my toilet, 
 as it was so late, I laid Mary Glentworth's letter 
 unopened upon the table, to be read at my leisure : 
 but the other letter, which^d been brought by 
 the livery-servant, I at once opened, as the hand- 
 writing was completely unknown to me. Its con- 
 tents ran as follow :—• 
 
 " September 2otb, 1841. 
 " No. — , Stratton Street, Piccadilly. 
 
 " Mr. Gower presents his compliments to Miss 
 TraflFord ; and in consequence of something which 
 occurred at the theatre last evening, he respect- 
 fully solicits an interview with Miss Trafford. He 
 will wait upon Miss Trafford at her own residence 
 at any hour which may be specified, if this course 
 should be preferred : or Mr. and Miss Gower 
 would feel themselves obliged by a visit from Miss 
 Trafford this afternoon between two and three 
 o'clock. 
 
 " Mr. Gower apologizes for the liberty which 
 he is thus taking, as well as for intruding at so 
 early an hour, through the medium of a letter, 
 upon Miss Trafford's privacy : but not knowing 
 what her engagements may be, he considered it 
 expedient to communicate the first thing this 
 morning with Miss Traflford." 
 
 I had no difficulty in comprehending for what 
 purpose Felicia's father sought an interview with 
 me : his daughter must have told him everything 
 that had occurred at the theatre, and his suspicions 
 were naturally excited in reference to th<» young 
 
 nobleman who aspired to become his son in-law. 
 Again were all my compassionate feelings excited 
 on behalf of the interesting Felicia : for L felt 
 assured that Lord Frederick's courtship must have 
 gone to serious lengths, and that a proposal had 
 most probably been made, for her father to take 
 such a step as that which he was now adopting. 
 But I had not then time to decide upon the course 
 which I should follow — whether I should let him 
 come to me, or whether I should go to him ; for 
 it was considerably past nine o'clock — I had my 
 toilet to achieve — for at eleven the bridal cere* 
 mony was to take place. 
 
 It had been agreed with the Normans and my- 
 self that not a single syllable relative to the ex- 
 pected event should be breathed to any of the 
 servants, for fear lest by any accident Lord Frede* 
 rick should yet find the means to elude the ful- 
 filment of his pledge, — in which case poor Juliet 
 would only be overwhelmed with shame and vexa- 
 tion in the presence of the domestics of the house« 
 hold if they were suffered to know all. I there- 
 fore conversed only with Beda on a variety of 
 indifferent subjects ; and when my toilet was 
 accomplished, I was about to hasten from my 
 chamber to repair to the breakfast-room. 
 
 " You have forgotten your letters. Miss," said 
 Beda, indicating the still sealed one of Mary 
 Glentworth, and the opened one of Mr. Gower, 
 both of which lay upon the toilet-table. 
 
 " Ah, true !" I ejaculated, snatching them up ; 
 and I thrust them into my pocket, with the in- 
 tention of finding a few minutes after breakfast 
 to read the one and to answer the other. 
 
 I sped to the parlour, where I found Mrs. 
 Norman and Juliet seated at the table; but 
 Mr. Norman had already gone out to procure the 
 attendance of the curate of the parish for the ap- 
 pointed hour. Juliet looked nervous ; and Mrs. 
 Norman kept saying encouraging things; for the 
 mother's ambition was flattered by the idea that 
 her daughter would soon bear a patrician title. 
 Juliet had also her own pride on this point : but 
 it was natural that she should be agitated with 
 the suspense of hope and fear under existing cir- 
 cumstances. It was ten minutes to eleven o'clock 
 when Mr. Norman returned with the clergyman; 
 and they went up to the drawing-room together. 
 Scarcely had they proceeded thither, when there 
 was another double knock at the door ; and after 
 exchanging a few rapid words with Mrs. Norman 
 and Juliet, I hastened out into the hall. My father 
 and Lord Frederick Ilaven8clifi"e were just enter- 
 ing; — and now the last source of apprehension 
 (which had however been but faint) was taken 
 from my mind ; for the young nobleman had not 
 fled— had not evaded my sire's vigilance— but had 
 accompanied him ! 
 
 I beckoned them to follow me into the break- 
 fast-parlour ; and Juliet, having thrown one glance 
 upon Lord Frederick, hastened towards my father, 
 to whom in silence she proffered her hanl as a 
 token of her complete forgiveness. Mrs. Norman 
 lost not a moment in conveying a similar intima- 
 tion of pardon for the past ; and I saw that so 
 strong were my father's emotions that he could 
 not give utterance to a word. I looked towards 
 Lord Frederick: I saw that his demeanour was 
 different from what it was on the preceding even- 
 ing: it was cold, and was characterized by what
 
 ELLEN PEECY ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 321 
 
 7,LS.RY GLENTWORTH. 
 
 may be termed a desperate resignation. He had 
 merely bowed distantly and somewhat haughtily 
 to Mrs. Korman and Juliet : but towards me 
 there was a momentary display of a humbler 
 courtesy. Juliet, upon perceiving the air which 
 be adopted, instantaneously threw oS the nervous- 
 ness which had before possessed her ; and she 
 assumed a look of digniQed composure, — which 
 however had nothing of petty defiance or mean- 
 spirited triumph in it. It was exactly the 
 demeanour which in existing circumstances she 
 could best assume, or rather arm herself with. 
 
 " My lord," said my father, at length regaiuiog 
 his self-possession and breaking silence, " I leave 
 it to your good taste and gentlemanly feeling to 
 determine whether it shall be with the air of a 
 martyr that you will conduct this young lady into 
 the presence of the clergyman ?— or whether you 
 will not, no matter what your own feelings may 
 be, at least throw such a gloss over the proceeding 
 No. 41.— EIJ.EH Peecy. 
 
 that the mmister shall not go hence to proclaim 
 amongst his friends how singular a bridal he was 
 called upon to celebrate ?" 
 
 " And I, my lord," I said, " unite with my 
 father in making a similar remonstrance — or if 
 you like it best, we will term it an appeal to your 
 feelings as a gentleman." 
 
 " Ob, if it be necessary that I shall play the 
 part of the happy bridegroom," exclaimed Lord 
 Frederick, with an hysterical laugh, " let it be so ! 
 Juliet, my dear girl, I am prepared to lead you 
 whithersoever it ia necessary to go that you may 
 become indissolubly mine." 
 
 Juliet became ashy pale ; and as she bit her lips 
 to keep down an explosion of haughtiest indigna- 
 tion at this cruel banter, her white teeth literally 
 gleamed, and her bosom swelled as if it were 
 about to burst from the prisonage of its corset. 
 Then all in an instant the blood rushed to her 
 uheeks, and a tear started forth from each eye.
 
 But hastily dashinsj them away, she gave her 
 liand to Lord Frederick, — who at the instant was 
 quailing beneath the look of mingled indigaation 
 and coutempt, scorn and menace, wliieh I flung 
 upon him. 
 
 We nosv all issued forth from the breakfast, 
 parlour and ascended to the drawing-room; and 
 on our way thither we did not happen to meet 
 any one of the servants of the household— al- 
 though they must by this time have begun to 
 suspect that something unusual was going to 
 take place. We entered the drawing-room ; and 
 Mr. Norman at once hastensd forward to shake 
 hands with my father, and thereby convey to him 
 the same token of forgiveDess which ha had al- 
 ready received from Mrs. Norman and Juliet. The 
 clergyman had put on his canonicals ; his clerk 
 was likewise in attendance. Lord Frederick and 
 Juliet now wore a grave and solemn demeanour, 
 which in each ease served as ft mask to veil the 
 real feelings which might be agitating within 
 them ; so that neither the minister nor his clerk 
 were likely to notice that there was anything ex- 
 traordinary in the present proceedings. My father 
 produced the special license which he apd Lord 
 Frederick had been to procure before coming to 
 Hunter Street ; and the ceremony commenced. 
 
 It progressed — it concluded —and my friend 
 Juliet was now veritably and beyond all possi* 
 bility of doubt Lftdy Frederick Eaveascliffe ! 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THB ULACK-EDGED LETXEK. 
 
 Ye3, Juliet was now a wife !— the wife of him 
 who in the first instance had so cruelly outraged 
 her— of hioj to whom in her anguish she had 
 afterwards knelt imploring that he would bestow 
 a father's name upon her then unborn child — of 
 him who had nevertheless abandoned her and had 
 sought the hand of Lady Cecilia Urban— of him 
 who had treated with cold silence the letter which 
 bad communicated to him the birth and death of 
 his infant — of him who had only so recently in- 
 sulted Juliet in the Green Room as if she were a 
 licensed object for his libertine freedoms— of him 
 who on the previous evening had been seated 
 lovingly with Felicia Gower, whose hand in mar- 
 riage he had sought ! Yes— of this young man, 
 apparently so heartless and so destitute of all good 
 piinciple, had Juliet now become the wifej and 
 jet 1 was rejoiced at the accomplishment of a 
 measure in which for the very best of motives I 
 had taken so large a £hare ! 
 
 When the ceremony was over. Lord Frederick 
 made a movement to kiss the cheek of his bride ; 
 and she met him as it were half-way, — both thus 
 sustaining appearances in the presence of the 
 clergyman and the clerk. The minister — perceiv- 
 ing that it was altogether a private affair, and no 
 doubt in his own mind accounting for the fact 
 from his knowledge that the bridegroom was a 
 scion of a patrician family and the bride a ballet- 
 dancer — hastened to take his departure so soon as 
 the requisite ducumeuts were signed. Those 
 pipers my father at once took up from the table, 
 i-u.l presculed them to Mr. liormun, — saying in a 
 
 low but emphatic tone, " You are the best cus- 
 todian of these proofs of your daughter's mar- 
 riage." 
 
 The clergyman and the clerk having retired, a 
 strange embarrassing silence followed ; for Lord 
 Frederick Ravenscliffe, throwing himself upon a 
 sofa, fell into a profound meditation. It was evi- 
 dent to us all that ho was reflecting upon the 
 course which he should adopt towards his bride ; 
 and none of us spoke a word. Mrs. Norman, 
 though full of suspense as to what the young 
 nobleman's decision might be, drew her daughter 
 aside and silently folded her in her arms, in mute 
 but eloquent congratulation on the circumstance 
 which had given her the honourable distinction of 
 tvife. Mr. Korman joined his wife and daughter 
 at the extremity of the apartment : my father 
 stood watching the countenance of Lord Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe ; and I sat down in a window-recess. 
 Feeling all the awkwardness and constraint of the 
 present scene, I sought for something that might 
 serve for a momentary occupation, so as to avoid 
 having the appearance of an undignified anxiety 
 or curiosity in respect to what might be passing 
 in the bridegroom's thoughts. It was more me- 
 chanically than intentionally that I drew forth 
 from my pocket the two letters which I had re- 
 ceived; and returning Mr. Gower'a billet to that 
 pocket, I proceeded to open Mary Glentworth's 
 missive. The first few lines startled me, and then 
 filled mo with the deepest affliction. But my 
 mind was still under the influence of that feeling 
 of restraint which acted with the effect of a solemn 
 awe; and no ejaculation escaped my lips. The 
 tears fell from my eyes : I wiped them away, for 
 they were blinding me ; and I continued to read 
 the letter. Then, in consequence of something 
 which it contained, I glanced towards Juliet — and 
 I glanced towards Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe : I 
 was about to speak— I was on the very point of 
 making some communication — when the young 
 nobleman suddenly started to his feet— and I held 
 my peace. 
 
 " My destiny must be accepted !" he exclaimed, 
 with the air of one who had after some delibera- 
 tion made up his mind to a particular course; 
 " and I must bend to all these new circumstances 
 by which I am surrounded !" 
 
 The Normans advanced from the farther ex- 
 tremity of the apartment: my sire's countenance 
 showed that ho was bewildered how to form a con- 
 jecture relative to what Lord Frederick meant; 
 and I was a prey to an equal amount of per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Juliet," said the young nobleman, advancing 
 towards the bride, " you are Lady Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe. I have wedded you— and I acknow- 
 ledge you as such. It is no compliment for me 
 to declare that in many respects you are a wife 
 of whom I need not be ashamed. The wrongs I 
 have done you are immense ! That you can ever 
 love me again, is not for an instant to be sup- 
 posed! But answer me one question. If I swear 
 to you that I will behave well and kindly to you—- 
 if I take God to witness that I will never again 
 allude to that coercion whose pressure has been 
 brought to bear up«n me— if in short I propose a 
 general cessation of all rancours end animosities,— 
 answer me, Juliet, will you live with me ?" 
 
 I saw that her countenance was changing
 
 ELLEW PEECY ; OH, THE ]UE3J:OIE3 OF AN ACTEES3' 
 
 323 
 
 during this speech — tbat the colour was Koing 
 and coming iu rapid transitions upon ber cheeks 
 —that the tears were gatlicring in her fine Tiolet 
 cjes— that her rich full lips were quivering — and 
 that her bosom was risinja: and sinkinj^ with quick 
 hearings. She was touclifd— she was moved: the 
 bitterness she had for some time experienced 
 towards the vouug nobleman was melting within 
 ber : her breast was softening with the returning 
 sense of that love, once so passionate, with which 
 Bhe had regarded him ; and it wos in a tremulous 
 voice that in reply to his question she said, "I 
 will." 
 
 " But pause and reflect yet a little while," re- 
 Bumed Lord Frederick, who having made a step 
 forward as if to embnice hei', had suddenly stopped 
 short: "pause and reflect, I srj, whether you will 
 consent to follow the steps of a man whose for- 
 tunes are desperate indeed ! Embarrassed with 
 debts- my independent means made away with — 
 totally dependent therefore upon nay father for 
 the present, and on my brother who will succeed 
 him in the peerage and his hereditary estates— 
 inine is but a sorry position for a bridegroom !" 
 
 " You have asked me if I will live with you," 
 responded Juliet ; " and I have replied in the 
 afiirmative — because as a wife it is my duty to 
 obey my husband — and because the observations 
 you have made seem to manifest — O God, I hope 
 so! — contrition for the past! If thereforo your 
 lot be poverty, mine shall bo poverty likewise, 
 shared with you !" 
 
 " Ah, Juliet !" exclaimed Lord Frederick, '•' the 
 wrongs you have suffered at my hands have been 
 signal and terrible : and beholding you now, hand- 
 eome ns you are— hearing the sound of your voice 
 —receiving fresh proofs of your kind and generous 
 disposition, I feel astonished that I could ever 
 Lave acted towards you as I have done ! But 
 when a man onco comoits a base aetioo, he is 
 compelled by the force of circumstances to perpe- 
 trate a thousand other basenesses to serve as de- 
 fence-works for the Crst. This, Juliet, has been 
 the case with me! And now I am ashamed to 
 
 look you in the face But, oh ! I will kneel at 
 
 your feet and implore your pardon !" 
 
 "No — you must not kneel to me!" exclaitned 
 Juliet: and bounding forward, she threw herself 
 into her husband's arms. 
 
 It. was a scene calculated as much to astonish 
 fis to afl"oct the minds of those who beheld it. It 
 was impossible to suppose that Lord Frederick was 
 plajing the part of a hypocrite now : there was no 
 recessity for any such dissimulation. But there 
 are few souls so utterly depraved as to be 
 without (heir momenta of weakness ; and the good 
 angel fates advantage of those moments to infuse 
 better thoughts and better feelings into the heart 
 that is thus melting. The solemnity of the bridal 
 service had no doubt produced its effect on the 
 young man's mind : then, when he again looked 
 at his bride, he saw that she was a being of whose 
 beauty any husband might be proud ; and his 
 former passion began to resuscitate itself within 
 bim. And then too, ho had doubtless reflected, in 
 a more worldly-minded sense, that as she was now 
 bis wife he had better resign himself with the best 
 possible gvnce to the acLxpf ation of his destiny ; — 
 and he had probably reasoned also, that the only 
 excuse which ho could offer to his parents and to 
 
 the world in general for having married a ballet- 
 dancer, was the love with which she had inspired 
 him. Thus, all things taken into account, it was 
 not really so much a subject for wonderment as it 
 first appeared, that Lord Frederick should adopt 
 the course which he was thus pursuing. 
 
 When Juliet flew into Lis arms and wept 
 audibly upon the breast to which she was strained, 
 Mr. Norman turned aside to conceal his tears- 
 Mrs. Norman sobbed as audibly as her daughter — 
 and my tears were again flowing fast, but for more 
 reasons than one. 
 
 " This is a happier result than we could possibly 
 have anticipated," whispered my father, bending 
 his face down to my ear. 
 
 " Yes— and in one sense it shall still be hep- 
 pier!" I eselaimed, starting up from my seat. 
 
 All eyes were now fixed upon me : for none but 
 my father coiaprehended how such au observation 
 had been evoked from my lips; while even ho 
 himself was still ignorant of the significancy of my 
 words. 
 
 "My lord," I said, advancing towards the young 
 nobleman, from whose embrace Juliet had disen- 
 gaged herself in startled surprise at my abrupt 
 ejaculation, " you have spoken and you have acted 
 in a manner which has gone far to redeem you in 
 the estimation of those who are now present." 
 
 " And I take heaven to witness my sincerity !" 
 he exclaimed. "Juliet shall leave the stage— and 
 we will repair together to the Continent until tha 
 state of my affairs can be thoroughly looked into. 
 Perhaps my father will not prove altogether re- 
 lentless. But if so, he will at least use his in- 
 fluence to procure me some small post by which 
 I may earn my bread ;— and I swear to you, 
 Juliet," ho added, emphatically, " that since you 
 have agreed to share my poverty, I will never 
 make it the subject of reproach or dispute !" 
 
 " You will see, my lord," I said, " that your 
 good angel has not altogether abandoned you, and 
 that heaven has not utterly cast you off. You 
 will not be doomed to poverty ! — and Juliet, with- 
 out being compelled to return to the stage, will 
 prove to you the source of means to live in comfort, 
 if not in positive affluence. — Juliet," I added, in a 
 solemn tone, while the eyes of all present were 
 fixed upon me in bewilderment and amaze, " by 
 the death of your aunt Mrs. Oldcastle you are the 
 heiress to an income of eight hundred a year." 
 
 " Ah, my poor aunt dead !" said Juliet, clasping 
 her hands, — " she who was so kind to me !" 
 
 " Mrs. Oldcastlo dead !" ejaculated Mr. afid 
 Mrs. Norman, as if both speaking in the aamo 
 breath. 
 
 " Yes— it is so," I replied. " She breathed her 
 last yesterday. The event is announced in a letter 
 from Mary Glontworth, which arrived by this 
 morning's post, but which from various circum- 
 stances I have only just opened." 
 
 There was a brief pause, during which all pre- 
 sent gave way to their reflections ; and then I read 
 Mary Glent worth's letter, tho contents of which 
 were as follow : — 
 
 " Eiver House, Dover, 
 
 " September 24, 1811. 
 "My dearest Ellen, 
 " It is my painful duty to announce a sad, sad 
 event— one which I know v.ill aftlict you greutly;
 
 m 
 
 SIXm VIBCTi OB. TBI MBMOIB* Of AB ACTBBM. 
 
 for I bavf iMirnt lb«t rou ar* conMCl^d br bond* 
 of kinthip, lliouE^b ditUnI, with ber «bo bu bMn 
 •o kind • frionJ to m*— 1 meao Ur*. OldoMlle. 
 Tbe poor l»d.T brMtbM b»r iMt tbia aflorooon •! 
 four o'clock. I will ondasToar to g:iT« you •omo 
 ftw d«UiU. althougb taj mind, as joa mar aup- 
 poa«, it aadiT baraaa»d and afflicted. Thi* mora- 
 ine M we were aMUd at the br«*kfatl>t«bl<>, Mr*. 
 OMc*»tl» auddanlj plaoM b«>r hand upon b«r 
 hMTt, uttorod an ejaculation of pain, tvxk back in 
 bar ebair, and gaap^d a* if aba wero djin;. I at 
 OBM lor« at tbe bell, and au*t«in»d ber in my 
 arm*. Such reatoritire* a* myaelf and tbe acr- 
 T*nl4 deemed auitablc, were adminiaterod — and 
 with (uch effect that Mr«. Oldcutle aoon re- 
 coTered. She would not permit a medical man to 
 be aent for, thouf^b I endeavoured to perauade ber 
 to hare auch adrioe. I aaw that aoma grvat 
 change had tAkra p1aC4 in her; and I WAt 
 aerioudr alarmed. Alt bowerer went on well till 
 about one o'clock in the aftMitooo, when ahe waa 
 aeiied with another fit ; and aba wAa bora* to bar 
 eoueb. On beinj; re*tor«d to co n ae i oBiaw t , aba 
 VAt Adriaad bj Mr. Singleton, the aurgeoB, wbo 
 WAa DOW aent for, and »hu »poke in term* a* d«tt* 
 AAto Aa poaaible, to aattla anj worldl? affair* tbat 
 aifht raqur* aaeh r«(«lAt*oii. Mr«. 01dc«*tle 
 baeAiDA coopletolj eompoaed Aod reaifDed : »be 
 at once aent for an Attomej from Dorer ; And in 
 tbe meAnwbile ahe d^tired me to fetch tbe writing* 
 de*k and i«ke out oertAin paper* which abe ooadad 
 for the ceremony of making her will. Mr. SinfW* 
 too ltd ua lofr^ber: but be did not quit tbe 
 boMA. Mr*. OMoAaU* daairad ma to commit to 
 pAper eartAia aiaior—Ai vbieb abe diclaled, And 
 which were to aerte a* a guile for the expectad 
 •ohcilor. She was then pleAMd to rvcBArk tbat 
 •a aba bad tbe fulleat confidence in me, aba would 
 •atntat to mj koowladg* certain aacrel* bitbarto 
 ■akaown to ma. Sba told ma that jov. my d«Ar 
 BHwi. were ralated to bar ; Asd aba iaformad ma 
 Kkavite tbat tbe Toan«; lady wbom I bad knowa 
 A* Mr*. 11*11. WM in reAlity jour friend Mia* Nor> 
 man. She told me aII th# pArticular* of that an- 
 fortunato Touog lad;'* trial*, wroaga. aad aaffer- 
 inga. According to the aMatortMi^ which Mr*. 
 Oldeaatla dictoted to ma, aba diapoaad of bar pro- 
 party ia the followiog mAanar:— To bar grAad* 
 ■iaca Jaliat XormAB aba baqoaAtbad tbe aaIaIa of 
 Birar Homa. aad TArioo* otbar propartMa (obiaiy 
 BOBiiiHiif of booaaa at Dorar) prodaeaag an in* 
 com* of 80CM. a yeAr,— tbaaa bequeath to b* ao 
 aetllad aad xitd up At to be impuaaible of atiea- 
 aiioB, Uabiliir, or miaebanoe, in cttte Juliet 2(or> 
 nan abould contract a marriage with any one who 
 might become inaolrent, bAnkmpt, or otherwise 
 embAiTAieed. To Mr. NortaAa Mra. Oldcaa U e be- 
 quAAtbed the anm of l.uuiV. aterliag; aad to you, 
 SlUa. ah* baa Ml SjMOt. She wa* then kind 
 eno ngb to mention my aAme ia connexion with a 
 baqnaAl of 60(M. : bat I eairaAted tbat abe woald 
 BM tbaa deptiTA ber kiadrad ol any of bar pro- 
 party on aeeoonl o( one who waa an alien and a 
 atrAagAr. Bal Mr*. OMcaatle «Aa decided : and 
 when the aobeitor arrirad, abe dietAted ber viU 
 Accordiag to tbe a»»m»rmmU which 1 bed tAk«n 
 down. And which I hAre juat been aketebiaf ont 
 for your information. Ti»e will was duly signed. 
 And Att^ted by two of tbe domeatacA. ^ot k«f 
 After tbe completion of this AAfAaaony, tbe poor 
 
 ] lady wa* a^ied with another fit ; and aba ezptr#d 
 in my arm*. I will not upeak Any more— at leAtt 
 not now— of tbe dietreas And Affliction which I 
 experience at tbe loa* of one who had beaa ao kind 
 a fnend to me. Mr. Singleton aays that it waa 
 aomrthing connected with tbe heart : but I hAV* 
 been too much bewildered Aitd AgitAted to liitan 
 to hit explanations. 
 
 " Pray ojme at once, dear Kllen !— And doubt- 
 lee* your friendt tbe NormAna will aMompany 
 you. I forgot to add tbat Mr. Kormaa and Ihia 
 attorney are named the exacutora andar tbe will, 
 and that it wAt the eAmaat wiah of the decwaaed 
 tbat ber funeral aboald be solemnii*d in the 
 plAineat, simpleat, and moat attoatentatioiu man* 
 ner. 
 
 " Tour erer loriog and gralefal friend, 
 
 "Mast OiXBTVoBrs." 
 
 Such were tbe contents of Mary'i letter ; and 
 infinitely Annoyed with myself as well At Afflicted 
 WA* 1 tUat I bad not opened it immediately upon 
 its arriral. We now all deliberAied in reapaei to 
 the eoarae tbAt was to be Adopted. A h o ne y moo« 
 VAA to be Aatociated with a fuoeral risit ; for nador 
 existing circumttAocet no one hinted At tbe idea 
 of any nec<M4ity of aeperating tbe bridcfroom and 
 tbe bride. It was therefore (WolvAd that tbey 
 should proceed in one poatcbaiae to Dorer — while 
 I WAS to AccompAny Mr. And Mta XortnAn ia 
 aaolber. My father was to remeia in 
 LstlAtt were written to Mr. RichArds, i 
 for oar sadden depertore ; And I Also paaaad a 
 note to Mr. Oower, to tbe effect tbAt beiaf sad* 
 denly CAlled out of town by tbe death of a rsla- 
 tire, I WAS unAble to see him i bat tbAt as I was 
 At no loa* to diriite tbe motire for which be aoogbt 
 an interriev, I begged to inform him thAt Loird 
 Frederick Barenacliffe had tbAt dAy aeponaad Misa 
 Kormaa. I'hia AnnoaneemsBt I of eoorse eoaebad 
 ia lawfaags at detieatA aa poanbb; for I tend 
 tbat tb* blow woald prora a sev«ro oa* far Iha 
 beaotifal and iatereetiog FeticiA Gower. 
 
 Before the depArttue I bAd a few miaate 
 prirAte conTsrsAiioo with my father. Ha tsador* 
 look to delirer my note at Mr. Gower'a boaae: it 
 waa Ukewiae hia taak to rta t ora to Lord Tj at dale 
 tbe snm far wbteb Lord Fk«derick bad gitea tb* 
 cbeqae apoa bis banker : And my father aIao pto- 
 misvd to keep a TigUaat wAlch apoa Mr. PArkt 
 till my return. llAriag mAde theaa ArrAogA- 
 meota, we embrAced and aeparated. MeAnwbile 
 Lord Frederick hnd written a letter to bia pArrnia^ 
 Aaaoonrinf hia mAtnAga with Mam Kormaa, and 
 nol for g a tti af to maataon tbat aba waa tha baiiam 
 of certaia good propiviicA joai beqaaatbed by aa 
 aunt. Tbi* letter was deapatcbed by Mr. >'or> 
 mAn's footmAD, who was chArged bkewiae to de> 
 lirer witboat delay the eoa 
 been penned to Mr. Kicbard% tbe I 
 
 I eommanicated to Beda the fact of tb* ■■r> 
 riagA which bad jast taksa plate, aa wall as of 
 Mia. Oldeastle's daAtb; aad it waa tb raagb bar 
 tbat the doable iataUigeaoe waa coawyed to the 
 sarraata of the bo as ahol d , Aad new Ja^iet, oa 
 receiriBg tbe eoagratolataaaa of bar own oaaid 
 and of Beda, beard baraalf far tbe 6t«l time ad. 
 diAsaed as -my lady" aad *y«ar tadyabq*:* 
 bat aoae of tbe aarraata n^pootod tbat tbara hai 
 been any pecotiar circataatancea attending ber
 
 Ki.i.HN nciiov; oil, TIIK MHMOIUS Off A.W AOTRTtRS. 
 
 nas 
 
 union with tho young nobloman. 1 tnirt Beda 
 that the wan to nrrDinpnny mo : but .Tuliot did 
 not tiiUo h«r own inniil, for fonr lent iit. IMvcr 
 IIoiiso Iho iihigail inijjht loam tlio oiroiiinitiuioim 
 undi-r which hur inistrcHfi hnd formorly vinitod il, : 
 whoroAH on IUxNi'd dinrrotion wo nil know Hint wo 
 mifrht thoroii^'lily rely — niid »ho hnd (jivon mo md 
 mnny proofN of siiiooroHt dovotion thnt I. could not 
 bonr til lonvo tho yi)iin(» ffirl boliind ino. 
 
 Proviouii to our dopnrturo — nnd whilo nwrtiting 
 tho nrrival of tho poNtohniHos — I hnd i»n opportu- 
 nity of nponkiiig to Juliot alono for u few 
 tninulcn. 
 
 " It is a Bingulnr cniiioidonoo, tny donr friond," 
 I snid, " that within tho Rnino hour whioh mndo 
 you II wifo, you nhouid hnvo it nnnouncod to you 
 tlint yf)u nro nn huiroHH, I hovo ovory hopo thnt 
 by nil oombininif oirounintnnoon Lord l<'roiloric'k 
 will 1)0 ronih'rod nn nitorod mnn. Ho will now 
 ti<i>l thnt to f/ou lin in indohtod for tho moann of 
 livinj; in oouitort nnd rospoctnhiUty ; nnd it in 
 fortunnto thnt ho nhouid bo moro or Iona dop(<ndont 
 upon you — thnt ho onnnot nmko nwny with your 
 property — ond thnt it in nil your own; for nupIi 
 n poRition will not bo rondorod humilintin||f liy 
 you, nnd will tlicroforo innpiro him with (rrntituilo 
 toward* yuursolf uh tho Buuroo of thono oumpolont 
 monnn." 
 
 " I nm doli/jhtod to hour you upoiilt thud, doaront 
 Kllcn," iinid Jjndy Krodoriok Riivonsolifro ; " for 
 1 vnliiu your opinion no hif^hly thnt to mo it in 
 frnu(;ht with all tho powor of prophooy. Oh, 
 yon! I bi<liovo nnd trunt thnt I'Viulorick in not 
 nltofrolhor bnd — that his romorHo in not a moro 
 triiniiiont ebullition — but thnt tho ohaiip;o which 
 bnn oTidcnlly tnkcn plnoo within him will ho por- 
 ninnont !" 
 
 " And you know, donront Juliot," I rojoinod, in 
 mild nnd gontlo tcrmH, " how muoli will now do- 
 pciid upon yournclf in koopinjj your huHhiind in 
 tho rip;lit j)iith. No nlluNJiin to hyj^ono uvonts — no 
 Word nor look tloit may crcr mako him iinn|;ino 
 thnt thoy hovor in your moinory " 
 
 "Oh, no! — not for worlds!" oxclaimnd Juliot. 
 "I undorHtnnd nil this, dear ICIIon, nnd J will try 
 what love, air«ction, ami kiridnoNS will produco 
 upon tho honrt of him who lins ({iron mn u pmud 
 nnmo nnd who has ntonitd for much of nil Ioh 
 formor misdocrls !" 
 
 Hodn nt this momont ontorod my ohnmhor, 
 whoro tho proooding brief oollnquy had takon 
 place,— to nnnounoo that thn ohaiHos woro in ma- 
 dinosH. Jiiliut and I aocordinKly ropnirnd to tho 
 drawinjj-rooni, whoro wo found Imrd l<'rodorick 
 ronvcrsing in a friendly maimer with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norinnn — but yot with a onrl.ain Hiihdued 
 nnd I'onslraiiiod nir. lis eaunii I thoroujrlily 
 understood. It arose not from ])rido— neither did 
 it toko its origin from nny sonmnss at tho mar- 
 riage into whioh ho hnd been forced : but it was 
 tho eviduiico of a mind nut ui yet nltoi^other nt its 
 case in tho presence of tlio parents of her whom a 
 while bnck he had so cruelly wronged. This bear- 
 ing on bis part was still moro marknd towards 
 myself; for lie hnd tho guilty consciousness of tlie 
 bluck turpiludo that ho hnd nccomplishod towards 
 me, and which was of so moan nnd baso a cliurao- 
 ter,— involving, as it did, embezzlement nnd com- 
 plicity in u fraud of thu most immoral nnd profli- 
 gnte dosoriplion. But in proportion ns ho thus 
 
 displnysd hii oontritn fooling did 1 address him 
 with kindness nnd friendly onoourngoment ; for 1 
 eonsidered that this day constituted n new start- 
 ing ])iiiiit in Ills life, ami that ho hnd boon lifted 
 up as it were by tho hand of circuiiistnnci<s from 
 nn abysm into whicli ho had fallen, to be placed 
 upon level ground a);aiii, with tlio fairest ponsihio 
 clianoo of striking into a path whicli led to no 
 precipices nor pil falls. 'I'Dwards .luliet his de- 
 inennour was now niriuitionate, grateful, yot like- 
 wisii tineturi<(l with tho ovideni^es of reinnrso nnd 
 shame: but slio nnswereil his observations with so 
 nnicli lively frankncNS and conliiling familiarity 
 thnt I snw she was at once doing lior best to 
 olovnto him in his own ostinialioii and mnku him 
 feel thnt between the present nnd the past n gront 
 gulf hnd opened acrdss which there was no neod 
 to (ling revorting Inoks. All those trnits did I 
 notice during tlie few ininut(>s that wo were j)ar- 
 taking of some slight refreshment licl'oro wo de- 
 scended to take our seats in the e<|uipages. 
 
 I/ord l'\'eilerick hanili'd his bride inlii one : Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman, lleda, nnd myself enti>red tho 
 other; nnd thoy <lrove away from Hunter Street. 
 Mr. nnd Mrs. Nurinaii hail now leisure to con- 
 verso with mo upon the eontents of MaryOlunt> 
 worth's letter ; for there had hitherto been no 
 time while wo woro yot nt tho house to mako 
 many comments upon it. Tho only point of it on 
 which we had previously spoken, was the fnot of 
 my relationship to Mrs. Oldcastlo,— which until 
 that dny had nmiained a secret. Hut L hnd ex< 
 plained to them how it existed and my reasons for 
 hitherto concealing it, — those reasons being that 
 it wns not my wish nt the timo to say aught that 
 would compel mo to nlludo to my father. Tho 
 render will comprehend that by the fact of that 
 rolationshi)) of mine to the deceased Mrs. t>ld- 
 castle, there was some little degree of ndiiiity be- 
 tween myself and the Normans; nnd this din- 
 covory endenrod mo, if pogsilile, nil tho moro com- 
 pletely to them. 
 
 Hut these woro suhjocta which, as I haro snid, 
 hnri boon briefly dismissed pri'tuou.i to our do- 
 parturo from Hunter Htroet; and thoy woro not 
 now renewed in lleda's presence. 'I'lio points ol' 
 Mary ( Jlentworth's li>tter which wo iliil nt present 
 discourse u|ion, were the poor lady's death and thO 
 boipieatliinenls she had made in her will, Mr. 
 nnd Mrs. Norman woro perfectly well satislled 
 that tho bulk of Mrs. Oldcastle's property sliould 
 have been left to their daughter, with only a 
 modornto legacy to themselves; and they were 
 ei(ually rojoieed that I hIioiiIiI have lieen so hniid- 
 soinely reinemhered in the will. Tlioutjli wo woro 
 careful how we spoke in Hcila's presence — for it 
 was not necessary to initiate lier into family 
 secrets — yet wo comprehondcd each other well 
 enough upon nlluding to Juliet's lioritiigo — nn 
 incident which wo regarded ns most providentially 
 fiirtiinnto, happening ns it did nt tho very momont 
 when she was es[)ousing a huNliand who could not 
 from his own means maiiitiiin her. 
 
 Wo stopped to dine at Oliatham : liut our Imit 
 wns not long in that town, for wo wont anxious to 
 get to our iliistinntion ns soon as poHitililo, fur poor 
 Mary (ilontworth's sake, as wu know that iho 
 would bo unxiously oxpucting us. Uuriiig this 
 temporary halt, however, I perceivod with plea- 
 ■uro unil HUtisfn(!tion that Lurd nnd Ijndy Frede-
 
 326 
 
 ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE ME1I0IE3 05 Alf ACTEESS. 
 
 rick Eavenscliffe were both ia good spirits, and corded sufficient for the information of my readers. 
 that the young nobleman had lost somewhat of I will therefore only say that having sat up for 
 that diffidence and restraint which he had exhi- some time conversing on the subject, we retired to 
 bited before we took our departure from Hunter our respective chambers. Early on the following 
 Street. The postchaises were ordered to be in morning the necessary arrangements were made 
 readiness half-anhour afttr our halt was made : for providing suitable mourning ; and in the 
 but scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed course of the day we visited the apartment in 
 before an equipage drew up to the door. | which the corpse lay. Tbis solemn duty being 
 
 " Why, this is before the time !" exclaimed Mr. i fulfilled, we were visited by the attorney who was 
 Iforman, consulting his watch. i Mr. Gorman's co-executor in the administration of 
 
 " It is not either of our vehicles," I said, ' the will ; and he explained to us the instructions 
 springing up from my seat and glancing through ^ which he had already given for the funeral obse- 
 the window. " It is a chaise for some other j quies. These were to take place ia the plainest, 
 traveller." simplest, and most unostentatious manner, accorJ- 
 
 Scarcely had I thus spoken, when the traveller ing to the request of the deceased. In this way 
 for whom that equipage had just come round out was the funeral therefore solemnized on the fifth 
 of the hotel yard, issued forth froai the hotel [> day after our arrival ; and when the ceremony was 
 itself; and I at once recognised his countenance. ' over, the will was read as a matter of form, though 
 It was that of the Count of Carboni. wo were all previously acquainted with its con- 
 
 He entered the vehicle, which immediately tents. The details were precisely as Mary Glent- 
 drove away in the same direction that we our- worth had sketched them in her letter ; and the 
 selves had to pursue. I made no observation attorney intimated his intention of repairing to 
 upon the circumstance as I returned to my seat at i London in a few days to co-operate with Mr. 
 the table ; for all the romantic occurrences which ' Norman in taking out the requisite letters of ad- 
 regardcd the Count of Carboni and his wife ministration and disposing of the property accord- 
 Beatrice were utterly unknown to my present com- j ing to the testament of the deceased, 
 panions. But I had now received a proof that the In the meantime Lord Frederick's behaviour 
 Italian nobleman had not fulfilled the intention | had been most kind and afifectionate towards 
 which upwards of six months back he had signified ! Juliet. She informed me that they proposed to 
 to his wife, to the effect that he should seek some ■ make River House their home, at least for the 
 seclusion, there to bury himself for the remainder ' present; for as her husband had received no letter 
 of his existence. I from his parents, he supposed that they were as 
 
 Our journey was resumed: but it was not until yet too indignant on account of the alliance he 
 nine o'clock in the evening that the first equipage I had formed, to bestow any notice on the epistle 
 reached River House. This was the one which i he had addressed to them ere leaving London. 
 bore Mr. and Mrs. Norman, myself, andBedajj '"Frederick desires seclusion," said Juliet ;" and 
 for it was purposely arranged that we should be i I am quite willing to second his inclinations in 
 about half-an-hour in advance of the other one, in this sense. The more we are alone together, the 
 order that I might have an opportunity of prepar- ! better we can cultivate that species of friendly 
 ing the domestics to find in Lady Frederick love and confiding intimacy which, under exist- 
 Ravenseliffe the same young lady who under the ing circumstances, must become a substitute for 
 name of Mrs. Hall had become a mother at that the mad reckless passion which he in the first in- 
 house. The Normans and myself were received stance conceived for me, and for the youthful 
 by Mary Glentwortb, who threw her arms arouild ! freshness of that fond adoration which I at the 
 my neck and welcomed me with mingled joy and j time cherished for him. Our present plan is 
 8orro*v. It was not much more than a month therefore to remain here in complete seclusion; 
 
 since I was last in that house : then the mistress 
 of it was in good health — but now she lay 
 stretched a corpse upon her bed. Mary doubtless 
 felt the solemn and awful lesson taught by the 
 
 and Frederick's solicitor in London will receive 
 immediate instructions to look thoroughly into 
 the state of his afi'airs." 
 
 I highly approved of the resolve to which Lord 
 
 change; and she gave way to her feelings. I also and Lady Frederick had come ; and we next spoke 
 wept : but when we had regained our self- of Mary Grlentworth. I told Juliet that 1 iu- 
 possession, I presented her to the Normans. I ; tended to ask Mr. and Mrs. Norman to allow 
 then sought an interview with the deceased Mrs. ! Mary to find a home beneath their roof ; and iu- 
 Oldcastle's lady's-maid, who, as well as the livery- ' deed I had already ascertained from Miss Grlent- 
 servant, were already aware that the Mrs. Hall i worth that nothing would more contribute to her 
 who had sojourned at the house, was in reality • happiness than to live with me. As the reader 
 Juliet Norman ; for those domestics had accom- may suppose, I had no difficulty in obtaining the 
 panied their late mistress on her visit to London. ' consent of Mr. and Mrs. Norman to this plan ; 
 I said all that was sufficient; to the lady's-maid : ! for the worthy couple were not merely ever ready 
 she promised to go and speak to the other servants | and willing to yield to my slightest wishes, but 
 upon the subject ; and she assured me that every , they had likewise conceived a great liking for 
 reliance might be placed upon their discretion, i the frank-hearted and ingenuous Mary Glent- 
 Shortly afterwards the other equipage arrived : worth. 
 
 Lord and Lady Frederick Eavensohfi'e alighted; It was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Norman, 
 and when the latter had embraced Mary Glent- Mary, and myself — with Beda of course — should 
 worth, her husband was duly introduced to our ; return to London on the third day after the fune- 
 young friend. j ral. On the day previous to our departure, Mary 
 
 Mary gave us all the particulars attending Mrs. Glentworth and I walked forth alone together ; 
 Oldcastle's death, but her letter had already re- and she said to me, " Let us pass by the cottage.
 
 ELLEN PEECT J OE, THE IIEMOIES OF AN ACXEESS. 
 
 327 
 
 Iknow not Low soon I may be in this neighbour- 
 hood again ; and it would afford me a melancholy 
 satisfaction to havo a last look at tho house where 
 80 many years of my life were spent, and where 
 lay poor mother was taken from me for ever i" 
 
 I at once agreed to accempany Mary in that 
 direction J and thither wo accordingly proceeded 
 through the fields. 
 
 " The cottage has remained shut up ever since 
 the sad catastrophe," continued Mary, wiping 
 away the tears from her eyes ; " or at least it 
 vfas every time I have seen it — but, as you are 
 aware, this is the first occasion on which I have 
 been out since Mrs. Oldcastle's death." 
 
 We were soon in the close vicinage of the pic- 
 turesque little abode: hut now Mary started, sud- 
 denly exclaiming, " I do believe it is again occu- 
 pied ! Look ! there is smoke ascending from one 
 of the chimneys 1" 
 
 And it was so. A few more instants and we 
 came in view of the front of the house : the 
 shutters were open — and there was every indica- 
 tion of the cottage being tenanted once more. I 
 looked at the summer-house ia which I had first 
 seen Mary Glentworth occupied with her needle, 
 three month's back ; and I could not help think- 
 ing how many varied, strange, and romantic inci- 
 dents had occurred during the interval ! — how 
 strong a friendship had in that short space sprung 
 into existence between myself and that amiable 
 girl ! I glanced at the window of the chamber in 
 which her mother had breathed her last : I 
 thought of the discovery I had made of how the 
 Duke of Ardleigh was Mary's father, and of the 
 strange scene that had taken place in that cottage 
 with the Duchess. I had some curiosity to know 
 who was the present tenant of the picturesque 
 abode — who would sit in the summer-house where 
 I had first formed Mary's acquaintance — and who 
 might sleep in the chamber where her mother had 
 fallen into tho eternal slumber of death. And I 
 saw that Mary herself experienced a melancholy 
 curiosity to ascertain the same point : but we be- 
 held no one moving about the premises — and we 
 could not, without the appearance of rudeness, lin- 
 ger too long with our eyes fixed upon the cottage. 
 
 We ^rsued our walk in the direction of Dover ; 
 and suddenly an ejaculation burst from Mary's 
 lips as we beheld a labouring man approaching, 
 with a basket slung to a rake carried over his 
 shoulder. This was the gardener who used to 
 tend the littlo garden during Mrs. Glentworth's 
 lifetime. He was pleased to see Miss Glentworth : 
 but he did not seem to remember me. 
 
 " So I perceive that the cottage is let ?" said 
 Mary. " Do you still attend to the garden ?" 
 
 " Ob, yes. Miss," was the reply ; " though I 
 don't think that the gentleman who has taken the 
 house will care much about fruits or flowers — for 
 he seems a strange being." 
 
 " What is his name ?" asked Mary. 
 
 " Some foreign name," replied the gardener ; 
 "but I don't think I should know it if I heard it. 
 He speaks to nobody — and wanders about all day 
 long. I am sure he is not right ia his brain. 
 They say he is an Italian — and ho has a dark com- 
 plexion — he is tall " 
 
 " When did he arrive ?" I inquired, somewhat 
 hastily; for a slight suspicion suddenly flashed to 
 my mind. 
 
 " Wheh was it r" said tho gardener, scratchinw 
 his head as he thus mused. " Why, it must have 
 been the evening after tho day poor Mrs. Old- 
 castle died ; and I recollect it because it was on 
 the evening she did die I was told the cottage had 
 been let to a gentleman who was coming to tako 
 possession of it— that he had sent to order tho 
 agent at Dover to find the necessary servants— 
 and that therefore I was to go and take care of 
 the garden as usual. He came in a postchaise all 
 alone : but he seems to have plenty of money 
 Ah! there he is!" suddenly ejaculated the gar- 
 doner, pointing in a particular direction : " there 
 he goes, striking right across yon field towards tho 
 river !" 
 
 A single glance convinced me that my suspicion 
 was correct; it was none other than the Count 
 of Carboni, Beatrice's remorse-stricken husband, 
 who had become the tenant of a cottage which 
 was so well known to me. I did not however drop 
 a syllable nor by a look indicate that I recognised 
 him; and after a little further conversation with 
 the gardener, Mary and I continued our way. 
 
 On the following day the departure from Eivcr 
 House took place. Mr. and 3£rs. Norman were 
 much aflfected on separating from Juliet : I was 
 likewise distressed to part from so dear and 
 esteemed a friend : but we were consoled by the 
 hope and belief that her destiny might now be a 
 happy one. While she and Mary were embrac- 
 ing. Lord Frederick seized tho opportunity to 
 whisper a few words to the Normans and myself, 
 assuring us that he should never be unmindful of 
 the pledges he had given ; and we separated. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Norman, Mary Glentworth, myself, and 
 Beda took our places in the postchaise that was 
 in readiness for us ; and Eiver House— now the 
 abode of Lord and Lady Frederick Kavenscliffe — 
 was EOOQ left far behind. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 MB. GOWEE. 
 
 It waa now no longer necessary that I should 
 meet my father in a stealthy manner. To the 
 Normans and to Mary Glentworth it was now 
 known that I had a father living, and that he had 
 been unfortunate : but Mr. and Mr?. Norman had 
 freely forgiven him for his coftiplicity under the 
 name of Croft in the foul wrong that had been 
 done to their daughter upwards of a twelvemonth 
 back ; and as ho was passing by the name of 
 Forsyth, there was no reason why he should not 
 occasionally call upon me at tho house in Hunter 
 Street, — the servants being suffered to believe that 
 ho was some relative or old friend. 
 
 Accordingly, on the day after our arrival at 
 home, I communicated with my father at a lodg- 
 ing which he was temporarily occupying ; and by 
 the hour of noon he was with mo. After soaie 
 littlo conversation respecting recent affairs at 
 lliver House, I inquired how matters now stood 
 in reference to Mr. Parks ? 
 
 '•' The appointment is for to-morrow afternoon 
 at three o'clock," replied my father. " I saw Mr. 
 Parks the other day, and informed him that iu
 
 328 
 
 ELLEN FESCV} OB. THB MEMOCBS 07 AN ACXfiESS. 
 
 coDsequence of the death of a relative you were 
 unavoidably absent from town. He assured me 
 that be should be fully prepared against your re- 
 turn for the performance of that act of justice 
 which is due to you. He and I then entered into 
 eome little calculations. Your grandfather be- 
 queathed to you the sum of thirty thousand 
 pounds ; and be has been dead seven years. 
 Dering those seven years your fortune has re- 
 mained alienated from you : it was first used by 
 the infamous Mrs. Parks— and then, at her de- 
 cease, by her not less iniquitous son. Mr. Parks 
 offered at our last interview to add the accumula- 
 tions of interest to the gross amount. I did not 
 choose to reject on your behalf the proposition ; 
 because I reflected that if be were sincere in bis 
 promises of reimbursing anything at all, he would 
 disgorge bis plunder to the utmost extent, espe- 
 cially as it was himself who started the subject of 
 interest— or rather revived it, I should say — for I 
 believe that it was originally mentioned by myself 
 on the occasion when you and I called together at 
 his house." 
 
 " Yes — I remember that it was so," I observed. 
 
 " Mr. Parks proposes," continued my father, 
 " to reckon the interest at three per cent. ; and I 
 acceded to the terms. Now, the interest of the 
 gross sum for a year, at three per cent., is 9002. : 
 multiply this by 7, that being the number of 
 years during which the property has been kept 
 from you ; and we get an amount of 6,3O0Z. The 
 entire total which Mr. Parks has to pay is there- 
 fore 36,300?." 
 
 " But do you really think, my dear father," I 
 inquired, my heart beating suspensefuUy, for the 
 sum was a magnificent one, — " do you really think 
 that Mr. Parka purposes to act honourably at 
 length ?" 
 
 " I have already told you, my dear girl," re- 
 sponded my sire, " that we must patiently await 
 the issue — not with a hope too sanguine, because 
 that would only render disappointment all the 
 more bitter — nor yet with complete mistrust, be- 
 cause there is nothing, so far as I can j udge, in 
 the lawyer's conduct, to warrant such a sentiment. 
 I have been watching him during your absence : I 
 have seen nothing suspicious in bis proceedings : 
 they appear to me to have been precisely those 
 which a professional man in large practice might 
 be supposed to pursue. But to-morrow at three 
 o'clock we shall know the result !" 
 
 There was a brief pause, during which I could 
 not help thinking to myself that I should be very 
 agreeably surprised if Mr. Parks did indeed fulfil 
 his pledge and pay such an immense sum. But 
 then, on the other hand, he was reputed to be very 
 rich j and it might better suit bis purpose to part 
 with even half his fortune than to incur all the 
 risks of exposure, arrest, trial, and condemnation, 
 for the fraud which he had perpetrated. 
 
 " You received my letter, Ellen," said my 
 father, " in which 1 hastily penned you a couple 
 of lines, to the effect that Lord Frederick Bavens- 
 cliffe'a cheque had been duly honoured, and that I 
 had placed the amount in the hands of the Mar- 
 quis of Tynedale ?" 
 
 " Yes — I received the note ; and I showed it to 
 Lord Frederick. What did you say to the Mar- 
 quis ?" I inquired. 
 
 " 1 followed the instructions which you gave 
 
 me ere you left London," replied my father. " I 
 called upon his lordship, and informed him that I 
 was an agent employed by you to recover as much 
 as I possibly could of the proceeds of the cheque 
 from Melissa Harrison's accomplice. I added that 
 the sum I then brought, in addition to the smaller 
 amount which he had previously received, was all 
 that he could hope to regain. He said very 
 quietly that he knew be must pay for his folly; 
 and then he asked me the name of Melissa's ac- 
 complice in the fraud. That name I positively 
 refused to give up : but I assured him that the in- 
 dividual bad repented of his iniquity and was no 
 longer in any way associated with Melisssa Har- 
 rison. I then perceived a sudden gleam of satis- 
 faction appear upon the countenance of the Mar- 
 quis : but without any further comment, I coldly 
 took my leave. That satisfied look which tny 
 words had occasioned him, was quickly explained ; 
 for at the very instant I was issuing from the 
 house, an elegant carriage drove up to the door— 
 and Melissa Harrison, splendidly apparelled, at 
 once alighted." 
 
 " Ah ! I suspected that this would be the case," 
 I said, shocked at the new instance of Melissa's 
 profligacy, although I was not unprepared to hear 
 of it. " The unhappy girl ! she has now launched 
 herself completely on the ocean of immorality and 
 wickedness — and she will come to a bad end !" 
 
 My father took bis leave of me j and I pre - 
 pared to go out and pay a few visits. I could not 
 on this occasion take Mary Gleutworth with me, 
 inasmuch as the calls I had to make involved mat- 
 ters of a private character. First of all I repaired 
 to the Marquis of Campanella's mansion, where I 
 informed Beatrice of the discovery which I had 
 made in respect to her husband— namely, that he 
 had secluded himself in the little cottage near 
 Dover. I then called upon Lady Cecilia Urban 
 at Enightsbridge. She was already acquainted 
 with Lord Frederick Kavenscliffe's marriage with 
 Juliet Norman, — a paragraph to that effect having 
 gone the round of the newspapers. 
 
 " I am now no longer at a loss," said Lidy 
 Cecilia, " to conjecture who it was that Lord Fre- 
 derick so grossly imposed upon by means of a 
 mock marriage, as you informed ma at the mas- 
 querade at Ardleigb House. You said then it was 
 a friend of your's — Juliet has been your friend— ^ 
 and this strange marriage taking place so sud- 
 denly " 
 
 " Yes, my dear Lady Cecilia," I interjected, " I 
 knew very well that when you came to put all 
 circumstances together, you could scarcely fail to 
 arrive at the right conclusion. But I wilt not in- 
 sult you by asking if you have kept the secret 
 which you have thus fathomed ?" 
 
 "Oh, I would not for worlds betray it!" ex« 
 claimed the young lady. " When some time back 
 you gave me a partial insight into it, it was for 
 a purpose most important to myself; and I can 
 never be ungrateful. We have lately bad more 
 than one strange marriage in the fashionable 
 world," continued Lady Cecilia, resuming a gay 
 conversational tone. "There was that of Captain 
 
 St. Clair with the handsome gipsy Ah ! have 
 
 you seen this morning's paper ?" she suddenly ex- 
 claiuied. 
 
 "I had not time to do more than just glance 
 hastily over it," I rejoined. " Does it contain
 
 anything relating to the present objects of our 
 discourse ?" 
 
 " Ob, then I perceive that you have indeed 
 sotoething to learn !" cried Lady Cecilia. " Captain 
 St. Clair has been courted by the Ministry — and 
 his wife has made her appearance at two or three 
 of the soirees given at the houses of the principal 
 Cabinet Officials. It is no wonder that overtures 
 should have been made by a tottering Cabinet to a 
 man of St. Clair's splendid genius : the great won- 
 der is that he should have accepted those over- 
 tures — that he should have abandoned the position 
 of an independent Member — and that he should 
 have identified himself with a party. But so it 
 is! — he is now a Cabinet Minister — a member of 
 the Privy Council — and he must be spoken of as 
 the Right Honourable Edwin St. Clair !" 
 
 " A Cabinet Minister ?" I exclaimed in astonish- 
 ment ; for I recollected how the two wily politi- 
 cians whom a short time back I had heard con- 
 No. 42.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 versing in the Park, had determined upon offer- 
 ing him some minor position in the Government. 
 
 " Yea — he ia a Cabinet Minister," proceeded 
 Lady Cecilia Urban ; " and the newspaper-para- 
 graph says that overtures of a character less 
 flattering to his talents and to his ambition were 
 first made — but he rejected them. It was thea 
 deemed of such importance to secure his accession 
 to the Government, that fresh negotiations were 
 opened— and he was left almost the dictator of his 
 own terms. The result is now known to you — 
 and the obscure gipsy has become the wife of a 
 Cabinet Minister !" 
 
 I felt shocked at the idea that the great desti- 
 nies of this country should be in any way asso- 
 ciated with or influenced by a man of St. Clair's 
 character : but I gave not audible expression to 
 my thoughts — indeed I veiled what was passing 
 in my mind. I shortly afterwards took my leave, 
 and proceeded to Stratton Street,
 
 330 
 
 ELLEN PEECY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS. 
 
 
 I should here mention that on my return to 
 London from Dover, I had found at Hunter Street 
 a note from Mr. Gower, in answer to the one I 
 had written previous to my departure. In that 
 note Mr. Gower politely acknowledged tho recep- 
 tion of mine, and intimated that he should feel 
 obliged if I would favour him with a call on my 
 return to the metropolis. It was in consequence 
 of this request that I now took my way to Strattoa 
 Street. 
 
 Mr. Gower was at home ; and immediately, on 
 giving my name, I was conducted up to the 
 handsomely furnished drawing-room where he 
 was prepared to receive me. He was a tall, 
 stout, elderly gentleman — with a shining bald 
 head and a florid complexion ; and though his 
 manners were somewhat deficient in the gloss of 
 fashionable politeness, yet they were sufficiently 
 easy and courteous. He had lived nearly all his 
 life in the country, as I presently learnt in the 
 course of conversation — and had merely come to 
 sojourn for a little yphile in London in order that 
 his daughter F*liel» might, as it is called, "be 
 brought out." 
 
 Having requested laae to be seated, Mr. Gower 
 said, " 1 have heard enough of your character. 
 Miss Trafford, to be convinced that in address- 
 ing you on a most delicate subject " 
 
 " lUfO apology is requisite !" I hastily exclaimed : 
 "and rest assured, sir, that whatsoever may be 
 said to me ia confidence shall be religiously re- 
 spected." 
 
 " You fce before ^ou, Miss Trafford, a inost 
 unhappy man," cantinued Mr. Gower. " Fejicia, 
 my daughter^whom you beheld »t the tUeatre-»- 
 is an only child ; and she u tfiptherless. A happy 
 life was it that she led i» the country : gay and 
 cheerful was her disposition ! A happy existence 
 likewise wag it which I led in my native place— 
 from which I had very aeldooa been absent sinoe I 
 inherited the family estates. But London aunts 
 and fashionable cousins caine to visit Felicia j they 
 put it into her head that she ought to have a year 
 or two in the metropolis— and I was overwhelmed 
 with the same reasoning. We accordingly came 
 to London ; and I took this house ready furnished 
 for a twelvemonth. In the new sphere into whieh 
 Felicia was thus thrown, she encountered one 
 whose name I can scarcely mention with patience 
 —while in my heart I execrate it, I allude to 
 Lord Frederick Bavenscliflfe." 
 
 There was a pause, during which Mr. Gower 
 reflected mournfully ; and at length he continued 
 in the following manner :— 
 
 " Lord Frederick paid his attentions to my 
 daughter. 1 knew that he was but a junior scion 
 of the noble house to which he belongs, and that 
 his pecuniary position and prospects were not very 
 brilliant. But then he possessed a title ! Ah, 
 Miss Trafford ! we dwellers in the country are too 
 apt to be dazzled by the lustre of patrician rank 
 — we have our folly and our pride, our foolish am- 
 bition and our lofty aspirations. I may in truth 
 tell you that I am a rich man ; and I reasoned 
 that if Lord Frederick gave my daughter patri- 
 cian rank, while I furnished an ample dower, the 
 equivalents would bo fair enough. So I suHered 
 him to pursue his addresses ; and Felicia — Fe- 
 licia," repeoted Mr. Gower, his lips quivering with 
 emotion, " learnt to love him." 
 
 There was another brief pause, during which 
 Mr. Gower subdued his rising emotions ; and he 
 went on to say " It often happens in the world that 
 those who are most interested in learning parti- 
 cular things, are the very last whose ears they 
 reach, notwithstanding that the things themselves 
 may be the common subject of rumour. So it was 
 with me in this case. No friendly and well- 
 meaning tongue whispered a syllable to warn me 
 against that young nobleman: I suspected not 
 that he was extravagant and dissipated, or over- 
 whelmed with debts. He entirely won my confi- 
 dence ; and he found himself a welcome guest at 
 my house. The very day before that on which ho 
 accompanied my daughter and her young friends 
 to the theatre, he proposed for Felicia's hand, and 
 was accepted. Yes— I accepted him without the 
 slightest hesitation as my intended son-in-law ! 
 Then came the scene at the theatre, A note 
 which he received, fluttered into my daughter's 
 lap; and she, thinking it was intended for her 
 perusal, hastened to read it. Jt ooutaiped fright- 
 ful words of warning — mentioning also the Chris- 
 tian name of ^llen as that of soiue one who had 
 discovered everything and was harbouring mischief 
 against him ! My poor Felicia fainted : but upon 
 being taken into the corridor, she quickly revived 
 with the fresh air. Then Lord Frederick endea- 
 voured to persuade her that the anonyuaous billet 
 was a vile fabrication by the hand of some secret 
 enemy. Felicia was inclined to beUeve the repre- 
 sentation^— and all the more so, because she felt it 
 to be so necessary to her happiges^— and because 
 love itself is confidence ! But quickly was the 
 delusion euceeeded by the renewal of the moat 
 harrowing suspicions that there was something 
 deeply wrong in respect to Lord Frederick Baveus- 
 clififu. For a geutleman presented hicnself in the 
 
 corridor— then a lady advanced Yet why should 
 
 I tell you, all this portion of the proceedings?— for 
 that lady was yourself!" 
 
 Again Mr. Gower paused : but he speedily re« 
 sumed his address in the following manner: — 
 
 " My daughter returned home in an anguished 
 state of mind— filled with terrible misgivings in 
 respect to him whose suit she had accepted. The 
 piention of the name of Ellen in the anonymous 
 billet, followed by your appearance in the corridor, 
 and all that there took place, determined me to 
 write a note, requesting an interview with you ; 
 for I was resolved to fathom the whole mystery— ^ 
 and I was quite convinced from all I have heard 
 of your character, that you would deal frankly 
 with me. Your reply brought the intelligence 
 that Lord Frederick fiavensclifFe had just es- 
 poused your friend Miss ]!forman ! Conceive, 
 Miss Trafford, the amount of mingled indignation 
 and aflliotion which seized upon me " 
 
 " Ob, sir !" I exclaimed, moved to tears by the 
 spectacle of that deep emotion which Felicia's 
 father could no longer subdue nor conceal, — " I 
 felt more than I can express on account of your 
 daughter !— believe me that I did !"' 
 
 " I am sure of it !" said Mr, Gower, seizing my 
 hand and wringing it. 
 
 " But may I hope," I asked, "that tho blow haa 
 not been so very terrible " 
 
 " Yes— it has been terrible !" rejoined Mr. 
 Gower. "When I first broke tho intelligence to 
 my daughter— alaf, poor Felicia ! my only child,
 
 'EZZT.y TEPvCT; OH, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 331 
 
 whose lmppines3 and welfare are dearer to me than 
 aught in the whole world beside " 
 
 "Yea — they must be!" I murmured, profoundly 
 affected : and I wiped the t?ars from my eyes. 
 
 " When I first broke the intellifjenee," pro- 
 ceeded Mr, Gowcr " such were the efTects that I 
 feared for my poor child's life. She sorrowed and 
 wept in a way that never before had I seen a 
 human being sorrow or weep ! Her anjruish was 
 terrible. Mild, docile, and amiable though she be, 
 she gave way to the wildest paroxy?m3, in which 
 she bitterly I'eproached herself for having come to 
 London — me for having brought her — and her 
 relations for having recommended the step. Then, 
 exhausted with the volcanic power of her mind's 
 sgony, she threw herself into my arras, weeping as 
 if her heart would break, and piteously imploring 
 my pardon for all that she had said. Oh ! it was 
 a sad scone. Miss Trafford !— the saddest that I 
 have ever known since I knelt by the bedside of 
 my dying wife some years back, and promised that 
 I would always continue a fond and loving father 
 to that dear child of our's!" 
 
 " And now, sir," I said, in a voice tremulous 
 with emotion — " now that nearly ten days have 
 elapsed since the sad catastrophe which so affected 
 your daughter — how fares it with her ?" 
 
 " She has been ill — very ill," replied Mr. Gower: 
 " but thank heaven, she is better ! Yet she still 
 feels deeply — and will long continue to feel the 
 foul wrong that she has sustained. My God ! if a 
 blight v/ere cast upon that young life " 
 
 "No, no— fear it not I" I exclaimed, anxious to 
 say anything that I could to console the afflicted 
 father. " She is young — youth itself is both 
 strength and hope " 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Trafford," ejaculated Mr. Gower, 
 "it is kind — most kind of you to address me thus 
 and to give me these assurances ! But consider 
 my poor child's position — and think whether she 
 have not sufficienc to rend her heart. Not merely 
 have her pure affections sustained a shock— not 
 merely has all their first freshness been withered 
 OS flowers by an east wind, or been seared as the i 
 green tree by lightning— but her pride is wounded ; j 
 and to descend to common parlance — without; 
 meaning anything offensive to yourself as the j 
 friend of her successful rival — she has been jilted 
 for the sake of a ballet-dancer ! Her love has been 
 scorned as it were at the very last moment — her ' 
 feelings have been trifled with — she has been 
 placed in a position most ridiculous and humili. j 
 ating ; and it is no wonder that she should declare 
 she can never again lift up her head amongst her I 
 friends. Indeed, so soon as she can bear the jour- I 
 ney, it is our purpose to flee from London — a place ■ 
 now hateful to us ! And before we take our de- I 
 parture, I would fain learn from your lips how it ] 
 happened that Lord Frederick Ilavenscliffe could 
 have so suddenly sacrificed my daughter to Miss 
 Norman the dancer? There are moments when 
 Felicia herself has thought that she was not beau- 
 tiful enough, or sufliciently accomplished, polished, 
 and elegant, to rivet the regard of the young no- , 
 blemau ; and these ideas she occasionally enter- ' 
 tains, notwithstanding that she thereby inflicts an 
 additional wound on her own pride by the suppo- 
 sition that in all those attractions she was excelled 
 by her rival." 
 
 " It is natural, sir," I answered, " that you 
 
 should seek to penetrate all the circumstances con- 
 nected with a catastrophe so deplorable for your- 
 self and your amiable daughter. But I regret my 
 inability to give you explanations as fully as per- 
 haps you have a right to require them, if not at 
 my hands, at least at the hands of Lord Frederick 
 Ravenscliffe. Yet something of the truth must I 
 reveal to you. A little while back Lord Frederick 
 Eavenseliffo pledged himself in the most solemn 
 and sacred manner to my friend Juliet ; and he 
 then abruptly broke off everything. This was up- 
 wards of a year back, and therefore long before he 
 became acquainted with your daughter. Time 
 passed on : the other day there was a certain 
 money matter in which Lord Frederick became 
 seriously involved, and which more or loss regarded 
 myself. Now, I will confess, Mr. Gower, that I 
 made use of the hold which this circumstance gave 
 me over Lord Frederick, to compel him to fulfil to 
 my friend Juliet those solemn and sacred vows— ^ 
 those pledges, oaths, and protestations which he 
 had given to her long before he ever saw your 
 daughter. I have now told you as much aa I can 
 reveal upon all these most delicate points ; and 
 confident that I am speaking to an honourable 
 man, it is under the seal of secrecy that I am 
 giving you these details. The injunction extends 
 not however so far as to prevent you from making 
 whatsoever statement you may think fit to Miss 
 Gower — though s7is also must regard it as purely 
 confidential." 
 
 " I thank you, Miss Trafford, for these explann- 
 tiong," responded Mr. Gower: "and I must rest 
 satisfied with them. I do not— I cannot blame 
 you for having attended to the interests of your 
 friend, although my own child's happiness has 
 been sacrificed as the result !" 
 
 " Believe me, Mr. Gower," I exclaimed, " that 
 even if Lord Frederick had not fulfilled his vows 
 to my friend Juliet, I should have revealed every- 
 thing to you, and the result would have still been 
 the same ; for you assuredly would not have in 
 that case bestowed your daughter upon the young 
 nobleman ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! assuredly cot !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Gower. " And now, Miss Trafford, will you sea 
 my daughter ? She has heard so much of your 
 private character " 
 
 " "While the sense of aflliction is so fresh in hep 
 mind," I said, " my presence will perhaps only 
 tend to reopen the wound all the more poignantly 
 and acutely. On some future occasion, sir, I 
 shall be happy to make Miss Go-^er's acquaint- 
 ance ; and 1 hope that I shall then find that she 
 has forgotten the occurrences which have for the 
 present made so deep an impression upon her." 
 
 Mr. Gower shook his head mournfully j and 
 after a little more conversation I took my leave of 
 him. 
 
 The reader may easily suppose that one of 
 the principal subjects now uppermost in my mind, 
 was the appointment which stood with Mr. Parks 
 for the morrow. Within a few hours it was pos- 
 sible that I might become exceedingly rich — the 
 possessor of the fortune bequeathed to me by my 
 grandfather, and which was therefore legitimately 
 my own. But I scarcely dared speculate on the 
 probability that Mr. Parks would fulfil his en- 
 gagement ;— though on the other hand there were 
 many reasons, as I have already said, which might
 
 332 
 
 KLLEN PERCY ; OE, THE MEilOIES 03? AX ACTKESS. 
 
 weigh with him and induce hiin to behave honour- 
 ably. It was evident that his career had reached 
 a crisis to which he himself must give the tu.'n ; 
 for after the manner in which the matter had been 
 put to him by my father, he could only contem- 
 plate the two alternatives of payment or flight. 
 
 I must candidly confess that the thought of 
 what the morrow might bring forth kept me 
 awake for a considerable portion of the night; 
 and when I arose in the morning, it was with a 
 fluttering and suspenseful sensation at the heart 
 which I could not possibly control. I was seated 
 in my chamber, while Beda was combing out my 
 Lair, when Mary Glentworth, who was already up 
 and dressed, made her appearance. This amiable 
 girl was most devotedly attached to me : she loved 
 me as if 1 were a sister — but an elder sister to 
 whose opinion she would in all things defer. She 
 now came to consult me upon a particular subject; 
 and not suspecting that there was any reason why 
 it should not be discussed in the presence of Beda, 
 she at once said, " I have been thinking, my dear 
 Ellen, that it is my duty to call with the least 
 possible delay upon my uncle Mr, G-lentworth. He 
 lives in London, you know " 
 
 "You can retire, Beda, now," I said : "I can 
 perform the remainder of my toilet without your 
 assistance." 
 
 The young girl at once glided from the room ; 
 and when she was gone, I said to Mary, " But 
 you do not know the address of Mr. Glent- 
 worth ?" 
 
 " True !" she exclaimed : "but surely it can be 
 found by inquiry ? I know there are Guides to 
 the residences of the gentry in this huge metro- 
 polls ; and I am sure that my uncle must be a 
 gentleman — he is my poor fiber's brother, you 
 know — and he is evidently wefl off, as he allows 
 me two hundred and fifty pounds a year." 
 
 " Do you not think, Mary," I said, considerably 
 embarrassed how to act in the present case, "that 
 your uncle may have reasons for desiring that you 
 should not call upon him?" 
 
 " What possible reason could he have ?" ex- 
 claimed Miss Glentworth in astonishment. 
 
 '•■ It only seemed to me that he used to visit the 
 cottage at River under circumstances of privacy," 
 I calmly observed. 
 
 " True ! it never struck me before !'' ejaculated 
 Mary Glentworth : and she seemed to ba some- 
 what troubled and perplexed by the thought. 
 
 I feared that I had said too much, and I has- 
 tened to observe, " Eelatives, you know, have 
 sometimes peculiar reasons for their modes of ac- 
 tion. Look at the case of Mrs. Oldcastle !— so 
 long keeping herself estranged from the Nor- 
 mans, and then leaving them — or at least to Juliet 
 — the bulk of her property at last ! I think, 
 Mary, that it is always better for us to take sug- 
 gestions from the conduct of our relatives with 
 regard to the conduct which we ourselves should 
 observe towards them." 
 
 " It may be so, Ellen," replied Mary : " but 
 look how I am situated towards this uncle of 
 mine ! He is the only relative whom I know on 
 the face of the earth ; and he has a right to be 
 acquainted with my proceedings. He knew that I 
 obtained a home at Eiver House : but now that 
 death has snatched away the excellent lady who 
 gave me that asvlum, am I not bound to inform 
 
 my uncle where I have found another happy 
 
 home ? He is my natural guardian Besides," 
 
 ejaculated Miss Glentworth, " how will he now 
 know where he is to transmit me my income as 
 it becomes due ?" 
 
 '■' Ah, I forgot that !" I said, struck by the ob- 
 servation : and becoming more and more embar- 
 rassed how to treat the subject, I affected to be 
 busy at my drawers in selecting articles for my 
 toilet. 
 
 "Therefore you see," continued Miss Glent- 
 worth, ingenuously, " it is absolutely requisite 
 for more reasons than one that I should endea- 
 vour to find out my uncle and communicate with 
 him." 
 
 " "Will you leave it to me, dear Mary," I said, 
 '■'to think over the subject— and if necessary, to 
 make the proper inquiries? There is no hurry 
 for a few days." 
 
 " Ellen, do explain yourself!" cried Mary, ad- 
 vancing towards me and taking my hand, while 
 she gaz9d up into my countenance in an appeal- 
 ing manner. " It seems to me as if there were 
 some mystery which I cannot fathom — as if you 
 
 knew something which I do not 1 can scarcely 
 
 explain myself— but new ideas are agitating in 
 my brain " 
 
 I reflected for a few moments; I was pained 
 and distressed by the turn which the coaversa* 
 tion had taken. I did not wish to reveal the 
 mystery of Mary's birth; and yet I did not see 
 how it was possible to hide it much longer. 
 
 " Will you do me the favour I have asked ?" I 
 at length said: "will you be patient for a few 
 days ?" 
 
 "Now I am more than ever convinced," ex- 
 claimed Mary, " that you have something to re- 
 veal — that there are circumstances known to you, 
 but hitherto undreamt of by me ! Yet I will not 
 press you farther, Ellen. I love you— I know 
 that you are my friend — and I am convinced that 
 in whatsoever you may do, you are acting for the 
 best. I will not," she added, in a mild and affec- 
 tionately docile manner, "renew the subject until 
 you yourself may think fit to revive it." 
 
 So soon as I was again alone, after breakfast, I 
 seriously reflected on the discourse which had 
 taken place between myself and Mary Glent- 
 worth. When I had first proposed that the Nor- 
 mans' house should henceforth be her home, my 
 mind was under the influence of the feelings pro- 
 duced by Mrs. Oldcastle's death, and I had not 
 leisure to reflect on whatsoever iuconveniences 
 might arise from the circumstance of bringing 
 Mary to London. Besides, how was it possible tc 
 avoid offering a home to the amiable girl who had 
 no home elsewhere to fly to ? Nevertheless, a 
 serious embarrassment was now arising. It would 
 be impossible to persuade Miss Glentworth foi 
 any lengthened period that she must not seek out 
 her supposed uncle : and then too, in the chapter 
 of accidents, it was inevitable that she must sooner 
 or later meet the Duke of Ardleigh, to whom she 
 would naturally present herself, no matter who 
 might be with him at th"e time. But how could I 
 tell Mary the whole truth ? — how with a single 
 word destroy the sublime faith which she enter- 
 tained in the purity and virtue of her deceased 
 mother's character ?— how could I bring myself 
 to make the announcement which should shock
 
 ELLEK PEECy; OE, THE 1IE1I0IE3 OF AK ACTEES3. 
 
 3.33 
 
 the pure and susceptible soul of my yuungr friead 
 with the knowledge that she was illegitimate P 
 My embarrassment was indeed most cruel : but as 
 I had succeeded in stifling the subject for a few 
 days, I resolved in the meantime to communicate 
 with the Duke of Ardleigh and then act according 
 to circumstances. 
 
 The hour for the appointment with Mr. Parks 
 drew nigh : and at twenty minutes to three o'clock 
 my father arrived in Hunter Street to conduct mo 
 to the lawyer's residence. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 THE APPOINTMENT. 
 
 We proceeded in a cab to the West End Square 
 in which Mr. Parks dwelt ; and during the drive 
 thither, my father informed me that everything 
 appeared to go well — for he knew that the lawyer 
 had not fled from London. Indeed my father had 
 seen him alight from bis chaise and enter his 
 house about an hour previously. It was there- 
 fore with a fluttering heart that I found myself 
 being borne along to an appointment the results 
 of which might prove of so important a character. 
 
 We alighted from the cab as it stopped at the 
 door of Mr. Parks' residence ; and when the foot- 
 man in the gorgeous livery appeared in answer to 
 our summons, I awaited with the aeutest suspense 
 for the reply that would be given' to the question 
 put by my father — "Is Mr. Parks at home?" 
 
 " Yes," was the response. " Be pleased to walk 
 in." 
 
 My father flung upon me a look full of joyous 
 congratulation on what he conceived to be a most 
 favourable augury ; and such likewise was the in- 
 terpretation that I myself put upon the fact of the 
 lawyer's readiness to receive us. The footman con- 
 ducted us up into the drawing-room, where we re- 
 mained alone together for a few minutes — at the 
 expiration of which the door opened and Mrs. 
 Parks made her appearance. 1 have already de- 
 scribed her as a little mean-looking woman, with 
 a vixenish expression of countenance, but who 
 nevertheless on occasions endeavoured to render 
 herself as amiable as possible. She was fashion- 
 ably dressed : but her features had a mournful ex- 
 pression that now dominated as it were over their 
 malignity : her step was slow — her looks down- 
 cast—her manner hesitating and timid. She 
 bowed to my father, with whom she was previ- 
 ously acquainted ; and then advancing towards 
 me, she said, " Ellen, is this to be a day of recon- 
 ciliation and forgiveness ?" 
 
 " It all depends, madam," I answered, some- 
 what coldly and reservedly, " upon the proceed- 
 ings which your husband may presently be pre- 
 pared to adopt. I have sustained more than one 
 species of injury at your hands : but heaven knows 
 that I am not vindictive !— and if within the hour 
 that is passing there be really an atonement made, 
 I pledge myself that these lips of mine shall pro- 
 nounce the fullest forgiveness for all the past I" 
 
 "You cannot speak more fairly — you cannot 
 speak more kindly !" responded Mrs. Parks with 
 an eagerness as if of gratitude. "Yes! — a com- 
 plete atonement \.ill be made— mv husband is 
 
 prepared to do you that act of justice which ac- 
 cording to your promise is to win your pardon for 
 the past ! But oven though it be nothing more 
 nor less than an act of justice, Ellen— and though 
 you have the right to play the part of a punisher 
 and an avenger— yet, Oh ! be merciful, if not for 
 the sake of my husband and myself, at least for 
 that of our children who are ignorant of their 
 parents' misdeeds !" 
 
 " Where reparation is made for a wrong that 
 has been done, punishment may be dispensed 
 with ; and as for revenge, Mrs. Parks," I ex- 
 claimed, " I am incapable of it \" 
 
 " Admirable girl !" she cried, seizing my hand 
 and wringing it with a force which appeared to 
 be full of fervour : " how distressed and ashamed 
 I am to think how deeply we have wronged you !" 
 " You are contrite, Mrs. Parks," I said, for a 
 few moments abandoning my hand to her pres- 
 sure, — "you are contrite, and that is sufficient!" 
 
 " Oh, yes — I am contrite !" she exclaimed. 
 " And perhaps, if my advice had prevailed at the 
 time, the iniquity never would have been accom- 
 plished! But I was overruled — my mother-in- 
 law was resolute — my husband was unfortunately 
 
 completely under her influence " 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Parks!" I exclaimed, now commis- 
 serating the woman as I beheld the tears trickle 
 from her eyes ; " if it were indeed against your 
 inclination that you became an accomplice in the 
 fraud which for seven years has deprived me of 
 the fortune that was justly mine, it will be with 
 all the greater sincerity that I can forgive you !" 
 
 "Your kindness overwhelms me, Ellen," she 
 said, applying her kerchief to her eyes ; " and if 
 I dared ask you a favour, it is that you will con- 
 sent to settle this deplorable afiair in a manner 
 which shall avert from my family the possibility of 
 a stigma ever falling upon it." 
 
 "Eest assured," I answered, "that it would 
 afflict me infinitely if your innocent children were 
 to incur the risk of being ever branded on account 
 of the misdeeds of their parents. No I — that 
 would be a vengeance— and I have already assured 
 you that I seek none !" 
 
 " Nor I," said my father, who had hitherto re- 
 mained a silent witness of the scene betwixt Mrs. 
 Parks and myself. " But in what sense, madam," 
 he inquired, " do you mean that my daughter is so 
 to settle the transaction as to spare your family and 
 the name which you bear from the possibility of a 
 stigma?" 
 
 " My husband will explain all this," replied 
 Mrs. Parks. " He has told me everything that 
 has already taken place between yourselves and 
 him — he is prepared to make restitution of your 
 fortune, Ellen — and though the drain upon our 
 own resources will be thereby immense, yet thank 
 heaven ! it does not inflict a ruinous blow — and 
 the prosperity of my husband's business will per- 
 mit of a retrieval." 
 
 At this moment the door opened ; and the foot- 
 man entered, saying, " If you please, sir — and you 
 also, Miss— Mr. Parks is ready to receive you both 
 in his private office." 
 
 " I rely upon your kindness, Ellen !" said Mrs. 
 Parks, in a low hurried whisper, as she caught my 
 hand and again pressed it with spasmodic violence 
 for an instant. 
 
 I issued from the room, my father following ;
 
 and the door closed behind us. The footman was 
 already leading the way down the staircase ; and 
 upon the landing my father awd I exchanged 
 looks of mutual congratulation ; for the scene with 
 Mrs. Parks had completely confirmed the impres- 
 sion which we entertained on our arrival, that all 
 would be right. We hastened down the stairs ; 
 and the footman threw open the door of the law- 
 yer's private office. 
 
 We entered— and that door closed behind ua. 
 Mr. Parks rose from big desk at which we found 
 him seated ; and he bowed in that half-diffident, 
 apprehensive manner which a person conscious of 
 great crimes was likely to adopt. He indicated 
 chairs; wo took them— and he resumed his own 
 seat. 
 
 " Miss Percy," said Mr. Parks, speaking in a 
 low, serious, business-like tone, and with the air of 
 a man having a grave transaction in hand, " I 
 have to apologize for the delay which occurred in 
 the first instance in fulfilling my pledge. I asked 
 for a week at the outset : I was then compelled to 
 ask for another. So large a sum could not be 
 realized in a moment ! At the expiration of that 
 second week I was fully prepared : and then. Miss 
 Percy, it was you whose absence engendered an- 
 other delay." 
 
 "True," I said: " and therefore, Mr. Parks, I 
 likewise have an apology to make." 
 
 "You are in mourning, F perceive," he said; 
 " and your father informed mo that the death of a 
 distant relative is the cause. I never knew that 
 you possessed any other relatives than those whose 
 names wore familiar to you from your infancy." 
 
 "This relative whose death I deplore," I re- 
 sponded, " is one whom I only recently dis- 
 covered." 
 
 " We will return to the business for which we 
 have assembled here," said Mr. Parks, turning 
 over some papers which lay bafore him. " Your 
 father and I, Miss Percy, have already calculated 
 the amount which is due to you. The original 
 sum was exactly 3O,O0OZ. : the interest, at three 
 per cent, for seven years, is 6,300L ; and I Lave to 
 express my gratitude that you have not pressed 
 matters to a nicety by charging me compound in- 
 terest. Thus the actual sum which according to 
 agreement I have now to reimburse, is 36,300?." 
 
 " My father has already explained to me these 
 calculations," I said, with a beating heart ; " and 
 I am perfectly satisfied." 
 
 " I have drawn a cheque for that amount," said 
 Mr. Parks. " You will be pleased to satisfy your- 
 self that it is in all respects formal." 
 
 Thus speaking, he handed the cheque to my 
 father, — who examined it with attention, and 
 then passed it to me, saying, " It is perfectly cor- 
 rect." 
 
 I should observe that the draft was not a printed 
 form cut from a banker's book ; but it was written 
 upon a slip of the blue paper which lawyers are 
 accustomed to use. I glanced inquiringly at my 
 father ; and he, immediately comprehending what 
 was passing in my mind, said with a smile, " It is 
 perfectly correct, Ellen. Written or printed, the 
 form is precisely the same." 
 
 Satisfied with this assurance, I laid the draft 
 upon the desk : for, as I perceived that there was 
 yet some business to be transacted before I could 
 legitimately call tho draft my own, 1 did not 
 
 choose to take immediate possession of it. My 
 heart was still beating with audible pulsations : for, 
 step by step, the business appeared to be progress- 
 ing towards a favourable issue— and I thought to 
 myself, " Within the hour that is passing, I shall 
 be endowed with a fortune !" 
 
 " I believe," said the lawyer, resuming the dis- 
 course, " that you have seen Mrs. Parks, and that 
 she has made an appeal to you on behalf of the 
 name which we bear and the young family which 
 looks up to our countenance and support ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have seen Mrs. Parks," was my re- 
 sponse to the speech that was specially addressed 
 to myself. 
 
 "And you will deal mercifully with us. Miss 
 Percy ?" continued the lawyer : " you will not, on 
 quitting the oflice, leave behind you the chance 
 that exposure may sooner or later ensue, and that 
 such exposure may brand myself, my wife, and my 
 children with indelible infamy ?" 
 
 " I assuredly am not vindictive," I rejoined. 
 "You are making reparation — and it is for me to 
 show mercy : you are restoring me my fortune-— 
 and I accept the deed in the light of an atone- 
 ment." 
 
 "Miss Percy, I thank youl" answered the 
 lawyer, apparently speaking with deep emotion. 
 " A man may have the courage to do a bad action ; 
 and yet he may be the veriest coward in contem- 
 plating the possibilty of its exposure to the world. 
 Besides, a father necessarily trembles at the bare 
 idea that his offspring may ever be doomed to ex- 
 perience shame on account of their parents and 
 the name which they bear." 
 
 "The truth of such sentiments can be readily 
 admitted," I observed. "But now, Mr. Parks, 
 explain what you would have me do." 
 
 " Be kind enough to listen attentively," resumed 
 the lawyer : " your father will likewise listen— and 
 I think that neither of you will object to tho course 
 which I am about to suggest. Your grandfather. 
 Miss Percy, left behind him a will bequeathing to 
 you the sum of 30,000?., together with his house at 
 Leeds. That will was destroyed by my mother, 
 the deceased Mrs. Parks; and a forged one was 
 substituted. With shame and grief I confess that I 
 was the forger. The forged will was prorcd and ad- 
 ministered to : it now exists in Doctors' Commons. 
 But I am about to restore your fortune, Miss 
 Percy: I am likewise about to make over to you 
 your house at Leeds ; — and thus you will presently 
 stand precisely in the same light as if your grand- 
 father's will were still in existence, and as if we 
 were now acting according to its provisions. Ah ! 
 I forgot to show you the deed transferring the 
 house from my hands into your's. Here it is." 
 
 My father and I exchanged rapid glances, ex- 
 pressive of our agreeable surprise and approval in 
 respect to the lawyer's conduct : for the house at 
 Leeds had hitherto been lost sight of, and he was 
 li'.erally restoring it of his own accord. My father 
 looked over the deed of conveyance ; and by a nod 
 he indicated his satisfaction with regard to its 
 complete accuracy and validity. 
 
 " You see, then, Miss Percy," continued P.uks, 
 "that I am doing you ample justice, though I 
 confess that it is tardy. You have your house and 
 your fortune. Is it therefore needful to brand as 
 a forgery the will which has been proved and re- 
 gistered at Doctors' Commons ? Pray reflect,
 
 ELLEN PEBCT ; OE, THE MEMOIKS 01? AN ACTU;5S3. 
 
 335 
 
 Miss Percy — and you likewise, sir," proceeded the j 
 lawyer, " that an accident might some day en- 
 gender a whisper in reference to that fact ; and if I 
 the voice of accusation were to be raised against 
 me, proclaiming that I was a forger, vain and 
 fruitless were it for me to hope or attempt to pre- \ 
 serve my character from opprobrium by replying, | 
 ' Yes— but I have restored the fortune and the 
 house !' " 
 
 I was struck by the truth of these observations : 
 and glancing at my father, I perceived by his 
 countenance that he likewise admitted their force. 
 '* I stand in the light of a criminal," continued 
 Mr. Parks, " who has been compelled to disgorge 
 his plunder, but who throws himself at the feet of 
 the plundered individuals, imploring that they will 
 p^don him — that they will throw a veil over his 
 crime — and that they will not leave a chance of its 
 transpiring to overwhelm himself and his family 
 sooner or later with obloquy and disgrace !" 
 
 " And to me, Mr. Parks," I replied, after aa- 
 other glance at my father, " you shall not appeal 
 in vain ! This pledge I have already given to 
 your wife : I now renew it unto yourself." 
 
 " I for my part," interjected my father, " echo 
 the sentiments of my daughter : but yet I do not 
 see how we are to aid you. The forged will can- 
 not be reclaimed from Doctor's Commons •" 
 
 " No !" ejaculated Mr. Parks : " but it need not 
 stand the chance of ever being branded as a for- 
 gery ! — that stigma may be wiped away from it ! 
 —the character of validity may be given to it; 
 and it may be legalised by the simplest operation 
 —by the simplest act on your part !" 
 
 "But what if my daughter and myself," ex- 
 claimed my father, "solemnly pledge ourselves 
 never to breathe a syllable to the effect that the 
 will is a forgery ? Indeed, we have uo tempta- 
 tion so to do ; for, as you yourself have said, my 
 daughter now stands in the same light as if no 
 will had ever been forged at all, and as if the 
 original one of Mr. Forsyth remained in force." 
 
 " Ab, but look you !" exclaimed Mr. Parks : 
 " for the sake of my dear children I am most 
 painfully apprehensive, and therefore most scrupu- 
 lously cautious. You, sir— and you likewise, Miss 
 Percy, may pledge yourselves never to breathe a 
 syllable — and you may faithfully as well as kinJly 
 mean to fulfil your promise. But a thousand acci- 
 dents may happen 1 There is such a thing as 
 speaking in the delirium of fever — or talking in 
 one's dreams— or in an unguarded moment letting 
 
 slip a word in short, it is a risk too fearful for 
 
 me to incur! — and though I am not in a position 
 to dictate, nor pretend to any such power, yet I 
 earnestly hope and entreat that the favour I ask 
 will not be refused." 
 
 " Proceed to explain yourself still farther," I 
 said. "You have informed us of your motives, 
 and I confess that to my mind they are strong 
 enough :" — for I could not help thinking that a 
 mau who was about to part with such an enor- 
 mous sum of money, notwithstanding the fraudu- 
 lent means by which his mother and himself 
 originally obtained it, had some shadow of justi- 
 fication in stipulating for conditions favourable 
 towards himself. 
 
 " I understand the motive of Mr. Parks, as w«ll 
 as 1 comprehend Lis position," observed my father. 
 " You wi»ib, sir, in plain terms to be totally with. 
 
 out fear or apprehension in respect to any living 
 soul ? You wish to have the certainty that iu no 
 moment of caprice or spite my daughter or myself 
 might be enabled to turn round upon you ?" 
 
 "You have put tho thing as a man of the 
 world," exclaimed Parks; "and that is the plain 
 English of it. Now look you ! Suppose I had 
 given a forged bill of exchange, which fell into 
 your hands— and suppose you came here to de- 
 mand payment of it, — should I not insist upon 
 having such bill destroyed before my eyes the in- 
 stant that I paid down the amount ? Well, then, 
 the present case is pretty nearly parallel. We 
 cannot destroy the forged will, it is true : but we 
 may give to the whole affair a complexion which 
 will utterly absolve me from blame." 
 
 " Or rather you would say, Mr. Parks, release 
 you from the responsibility attached to the mis- 
 deed:"-— and my father spoke these words 
 seriously. • 
 
 " Well, phrase it us you will," rejoined the 
 lawyer : " the fact exists tho same. Now I tell 
 you what I propose should be done. Let us as* 
 8ume that the will— the forged will, you know— 
 which has been proved at Doctors' Commons, ia 
 really a valid one. Let us suppose that it was 
 actually the legitimate will of the late Mr. Eor- 
 syth. Well, this will cuts you off altogether, Miss 
 Percy, and leaves you dependent on the old gentle- 
 man's housekeeper, to whom he made over every, 
 thing—— no uncommon occurrence, by the bye, 
 with superannuated old gentlemen, as I in my 
 capacity of a lawyer well know. You and youu 
 friends think yourselves aggrieved by this will — 
 and natural enough ! You threaten me with legal 
 proceedings to dispute it — you aro going to throw 
 the whole thing into Chancery — where, if you do 
 so, it will remain for years and the entire amount 
 will be devoured by costs. All this, mind you, is a 
 
 supposition But you are both following me ?" 
 
 My father inclined bis head ia token of assent ; 
 and I said, " Yes, Mr. Parks, I am following you. 
 Proceed." 
 
 '' Well then," resumed tho lawyer, " in order to 
 avoid this terrific embarrassment— in order, I say, 
 to keep out of a Chancery suit — let us go on sup- 
 posing that I am accessible to reason. You like- 
 wise. Miss Percy, are reasonablo ; and the result is 
 that we agree to a compromise. I have got hold 
 of the fortune ; and possession ia, you know, nine 
 points of the law. I am in a position to dictate 
 my terms to a certain extent : you, on the con- 
 trary, having but slight confidence iu what may 
 be the issue of law-proceedings, aro willing to 
 accept almost anything so long as you get some- 
 thing. Well then, after due negotiations you 
 agree to accept three thousand pounds ; and I 
 agree to give that sum as a means of settling the 
 affair. I have drawn up a deed to this effect : you 
 have nothing to do but to sign it in the presence 
 of one of my clerks as a witness— and all will be 
 over. You will have done me a service and set 
 my mind at rest ; while on the other hand you 
 have done yourself no harm — for iu reality i/ou 
 will have got the whole of the fortune, and I shall 
 have nothing but this bit of parchment to console 
 me." 
 
 "You say that you have already prepared a 
 deed," observed my father : " will you permit me 
 to look at it.^'
 
 336 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE ME5IOIB3 OF AJT ACTBESS. 
 
 " Ob, certainly !" cried Parks. " Never sign 
 anjthing that you are unacquainted with ! Here 
 is the document," 
 
 Mr. Parks accordingly handed my father a 
 parchment deed ; and he read it attentively. He 
 then reflected for a few minutes ; and he said, " I 
 see no harm in your signing this document, Ellen. 
 I will explain it to you. It sets forth that inas- 
 much as a will, made by the deceased Mr. For- 
 syth of Leeds, in favour of Mrs. Parks, now also 
 deceased, has given displeasure unto yourself, you 
 have threatened law-proceedings with a view of 
 setting it aside on the score of the mental incapa- 
 city of the testator at the time to exercise due dis- 
 crimination in the disposal of his property. You 
 therefore consent and agree to accept the sum of 
 three thousand pounds, together with a conveyance 
 of the house at Leeds, as a final settlement of the 
 matter at issue. By the fact of signing this docu- 
 ment, you acknowledge the validity, the legality, 
 and the integrity of the will; and you debar 
 yourself from the power of ever again making it 
 the subject of any unpleasant disputation between 
 yourself and Mr. Parks. Such is the purport of 
 the document which I hold in my hand," added 
 my father ; " and it is now, Ellen, for you to de- 
 cide whether you will affix your signature or 
 not," 
 
 " If I understand the proceeding aright," I 
 said, " it is a mere formality so far as I am con- 
 cerned " 
 
 " While it renders me free from all apprehen- 
 sion of every kind," responded Parks. " "With 
 such a document in my possession, I could at any 
 moment defy the whisperings of scandal, if by any 
 possible means a hint should get abroad to the 
 effect that the will at Doctor's Commons is not a 
 genuine one." 
 
 I looked at my father— I beheld in his counte- 
 nance nothing to dissuade me from taking the 
 proposed step ; and I recollected the earnest and 
 contrite manner in which Mrs. Parks had appealed 
 to me. I felt convinced that the lawyer was per- 
 'orming a straightforward part in respect to the 
 restitution of my fortune. Before me upon the 
 writing-table lay the cheque for 36,300^. : there 
 likewise was the deed conveying to me the house j 
 at Leeds ; and the discharge which I was called ; 
 upon to sign recapitulated the conveyance of that | 
 house. Was not everything straightforward there- j 
 fore ? — how could there be a possibility of fraud or ' 
 deception on the lawyer's part ? ! 
 
 " I will sign that deed," I said, after a few ! 
 moments of reflection. " Although it be attach- I 
 ing my namo to something which is not strictly I 
 true " 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Percy," interrupted Parks, | 
 " there is really no untruth involved in such a 
 proceeding as this : the most fastidious mind 
 could not look upon it in any such sinister 
 light. You do not thereby acknowledge your 
 conviction or belief that the will never was 
 forged : you merely say that you now recognise 
 its validity bo far as you yourself are concerned 
 —which simply means that you pledge yourself 
 never to dispute it. Then, as for the considera- 
 tion of three thousand pounds in hard cash, you 
 have got twelve times that amount ; and here 
 again you commit no violation of the truth in 
 sientiff tbfl denn." 
 
 I listened with the utmost attention to every- 
 thing that Mr. Parks was saying ; and I certainly 
 was compelled to admit to myself that it would 
 indeed be a piece of most unnecessary fastidious- 
 ness to refuse my signature to the document. 
 Again therefore I said, " Mr. Parks, I will sign 
 it." 
 
 He bowed in acknowledgment of his thanks ; 
 and he said, " I am now about to summon my 
 clerk to witness the signature of the deeds. May 
 I beg of you both to adopt a demeanour which 
 may prevent the young man from suspecting that 
 anything beyond a mere business-transaction has 
 passed between us ?" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Parks rang a bell; 
 and almost immediately afterwards one of b\a 
 clerks entered from the outer office. At the same 
 instant the lawyer turned the cheque over upon 
 its face, 60 that the clerk might not notice its 
 amount. 
 
 "Mr. Moss," said the lawyer, thus addressing 
 the clerk, " you will have the kindness to witness 
 these two deeds. Here ! run your eye over the 
 contents, so that you may know what you are 
 attesting. The first — which is the one that I have 
 to sign — conveys to Miss Percy a certain house at 
 Leeds. You see the conveyance is in the usual 
 strain. This other deed — which is to be signed 
 by Miss Percy — is in settlement of certain dis- 
 putes betwixt this lady and myself : but you will 
 soon see what the gist of it is. Look ! Will of 
 the deceased Mr. Forsyth of Leeds — bequeathing 
 so and so— all the particulars duly set out, you 
 
 see then proviso for the conveyance of that 
 
 house to Miss Percy, together with the payment 
 of three thousand pounds ■!& short, it is an 
 amicable arrangement to prevent a ruinous Chan- 
 cery suit." 
 
 " I perceive, sir," said the clerk, who quickly 
 made himself acquainted with the purport and 
 tenour of both documents. 
 
 " Now, I will sign first," said Mr. Parks. " Yea 
 — it is all right— the deed of conveyance !" and he 
 signed accordingly : then placing his finger on the 
 seal, he added with the usual formality, " I accept 
 this as my act and deed." 
 
 "Now, Ellen," said my father, "it is for you to 
 sign." 
 
 " This is your document. Miss Percy," ex- 
 claimed the lawyer, as he placed it before me 
 and handed me a pen, " Be so kind as to sign 
 here. Your Christian name on one side of the 
 seal— your surname on the other. G-ood! And 
 now have the kindness to put your finger upon 
 that other seal, and repeat the little formality 
 which you heard me utter." 
 
 I did as I was desired,— saying, " I accept this 
 as my act and deed." 
 
 " Is that all, sir ?" inquired the clerk, with a 
 bow. 
 
 "Ah! stop a moment!" cried Mr. Parks, "I 
 had well nigh forgotten something — and not the 
 least important feature of the business ! I must 
 write a cheque for the three thousand pounds." 
 
 " But you have already," I exclaimed 
 
 " Pray suffer me, Miss Percy," interrupted Mr. 
 Parks, " I know perfectly well what I am about." 
 
 I could not understand his proceeding : but I 
 supposed that he did ; and as my father likewise 
 seemed to comnrehend it, I held my peace. Parks
 
 ELLEK PEBCT ; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 tore off a slip of paper in the form of a draft ; and 
 he quickly converted it into a cheque for three 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 " Miss Percy," he said, " have the kindness to 
 put jour name at the back of this by way of re- 
 ceipting it — and then everything is finished, ilr. 
 Moss, please to be attentive, sir I" 
 
 I glanced at my father, who nodded his head as 
 an intimation that I was to execute this last for- 
 mality ; and I accordingly wrote my name at 
 the back of the cheque for the three thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 " It is all finished, Mr. Moss," said Parks : and 
 the clerk immediately withdrew. "You do not 
 seem to understand the meaning of this last little 
 arrangement. Miss Percy," continued the lawyer, 
 when the door had closed behind Mr. Moss : "yet 
 your father will tell you that it is all perfectly 
 right and straightforward. Remember that my 
 clerk knows nothing of that large cheque which 
 No. 43.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 belongs to you: and therefore he naturally ex- 
 pected to see me pay you the three thousand spe- 
 cified in the deed which he had witnessed. The 
 writing of this small cheque was therefore a mere 
 form to render the ceremony complete in my 
 clerk's estimation. Take your own cheque. Miss 
 Percy — take likewise this deed of conveyance— 
 those are yow papers. This document, which 
 you have signed, belongs to me : and as for this 
 little cheque," he added, taking it up, " there is 
 no further use for it." 
 
 As he thus spoke, he crumpled up the little 
 cheque and tossed it negligently into the fender. 
 
 The ceremony was over : I took the deed of 
 conveyance, as well as the cheque for 36,300Z. j 
 and I said in a voice full of emotion, " Mr. Parks, 
 you have now fully atoned for the past in my esti- 
 mation !" 
 
 " And in mine," added my father, solemnly. 
 
 The lawyer bowed, and immediately turned
 
 338 
 
 ELXEN PEECT; OR, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTEES8. 
 
 aside, as if to conceal some strong feelings which 
 were agitating him. My father and I withdrew ; 
 and the next moment we issued from the lawyer's 
 house. 
 
 CHAPTEE LIX. 
 
 THE CHEQUE. 
 
 I CAK scarcely describe the sensations which I ex- 
 perienced at the termination of the business with 
 Mr. Parks : but I really believe that I was more 
 rejoiced at having obtained possession of the house 
 at Leeds, than the cheque for the fortune itself. 
 That house, whore so many years of my life had 
 been passed, was now my own ; end I promised 
 myself the satisfsctioa of proceeding thither to 
 visit it with the least possible delay. 
 
 " What o'clock is it ?" asked my father, when 
 we were at a short distance from the lawyer's 
 house. 
 
 " It is ten minute! to five," I answered, consult- 
 ing my watch. 
 
 "And the cheque is drawn upon a banking- 
 house in the City," observed my father. " We 
 have not time to get it cashed to-day — for the 
 banks close at five." 
 
 "That is of no consequence," I said: "to- 
 morrow will do just as well. I suppose you have 
 not the slightest doubt that the cheque will be 
 paid F" 
 
 " Not the slightest," rejoined my father. " I 
 am morally certain that it is as good as a bank. 
 note. If for a single instant the faintest shadow 
 of suspicion had arisen in my mind, I should have 
 advised you not to conclude the business until Mr. 
 Parks produced the whole sum in ready money 
 upon his desk. But everything showed that he 
 was most serious — most earnest. That appeal 
 made to you in the first instance by his wife- 
 then the well -planned and skilfully devised 
 arrangement by which the colour of validity has 
 been given to the forged will — the signatures in 
 the presence of the clerk — the voluntary cession of 
 the house at Leeds — everything, in short, proved 
 that Mr. Parks was for once in his life acting a 
 straightforward part !" 
 
 " For which, however," I interjected, " he can 
 take little credit to himself if ho comes to reason 
 with his own conscience j for the whole proceeding 
 was forced upon him." 
 
 " True !" said my father : " but you have for- 
 given him for the past— and though you have 
 acted generously, yet you could scarcely have done 
 otherwise when the man's conduct assumed the 
 aspect of an atonement, Eeferring to the cheque 
 which you have in your possession, understand 
 well that if it were not paid, Mr. Parks could im- 
 mediately be sued for the amount ; and the result 
 would bo utter ruin if he were really without the 
 means of liquidating the debt. Thus it is not for 
 a moment probable that he would have courted 
 such a position as this. All these considerations 
 passed through my mind while wo were in the 
 lawyer's olBce : stop by step I carefully watched 
 the progress of the transaction ; and I firmly be- 
 lieve, my dear Ellen, that if you had been accom- 
 
 panied by the astutest legal adviser, tha results 
 would have been juat the same." 
 
 "Well, my dear father," I said, after a few 
 moments' reflection, " I, like yourself, entertain 
 the fullest faith in the value of this cheque : but 
 we will not until to-morrow speak a syllable in 
 deliberation on the manner in which the capital 
 is to be laid out when it comes into our hands. 
 Neither shall I breathe a syllable to my friends in 
 Hunter Street respecting the transactions of this 
 day. In short, we will wait until the last step 
 shall have been taken, and until wo shall have the 
 proof that everything has progressed favourably 
 to the very end." 
 
 "Be it as you will, my dear girl," said my 
 father ; " and therefore I will reserve until to- 
 morrow all congratulationg, in the same way that 
 we are to abstain from all deliberations." 
 
 " Yes," I said, " because there is just the bara 
 possibility that wa may have been deceived — and 
 we should feel supremely ridiculous if we had 
 launched out into extravagant ideas and then 
 found that they were all based upon a mockery 
 and a delusion." 
 
 " At half-past ten to-morrow morning," said my 
 father, "I will come and fetch you : wo will pro- 
 ceed together into the City— and by eleven o'clock 
 all doubt will be thoroughly cleared up in one way 
 or another. Heaven knows, my dear child, that 
 after all my sad experiences of life I have no 
 reason to be sanguine! — but I must confess that 
 in the present instance I can scarcely see how it is 
 possible for us to have been duped." 
 
 My father and I now separated ; and I returned 
 to Hunter Street. I so composed my demeanour 
 that my friends should not be enabled to suspect 
 that anything extraordinary had taken place,— 
 though I resolved that if the cheque were paid on 
 the morrow, I would not lose a moment in reveal- 
 ing to them my good fortune. And though I was 
 not completely sanguine on the point, yet I really 
 could not see how it was possible that the lawyer 
 could hope to steal a march on me by the perpe- 
 tration of so gross a fraud. Thus in spite of my- 
 self I found my mind revolving certain plans to 
 be executed if I should become possessed of my 
 fortune. I would assuredly leave the stage ; and 
 I would write off to my cousin Harry in America, 
 to intimate that there was no necessity for him to 
 toil longer than he thought fit in money-making 
 pursuits. Ah ! a thrill of pleasure shot through 
 my heart as this reflection swept into my brain ; 
 for I loved my cousin — yes, dearly loved him ! 
 
 When night came and I was alono in my 
 chamber, I could not help continuing my medita- 
 tions ; and they kept me awake for some con- 
 siderable time. Even if by any possibility the 
 cheque should not be paid, it was nevertheless 
 certain beyond the possibility of doubt or dispute 
 that I had possession of the house at Leeds. The 
 deed of conveyance was locked up in my desk, 
 together with my purse, into which I had put the 
 cheque for the 36,300?. In respect to that house 
 I might therefore in safety and security arrange 
 my plans. If it wanted reparation I would re- 
 pair it: I would do all I could to preserve it, in 
 memory of my deceased grandfather, who, as it 
 proved after all, had really left me his heiress and 
 bequeathed to me every tittle of his property,— mo* 
 leaving me dependent upon his old housekeeper,
 
 EILEN PEECy; OE, TUB JIEMOIES 03? AN ACTEES3. 
 
 339 
 
 as for so long a time I believed he had done— buf, 
 on the contrary, actually leaving her in total de- 
 pendence upon my bounty. In the midst of my 
 meditations I sank off to sleep ; and when I awoke 
 in the morning, I could not immediately convince 
 myself that the lapse of a few hours would prove 
 whether I were to possess riches, or whether I had 
 been the dupe of a fraud and a delusion. 
 
 Punctually at half-past ten o'clock my father 
 came to fetch me j and I was in readiness to issue 
 forth with him. We engaged a cab, and took our 
 seats therein. My father's features expressed a 
 serene and steady confidence in the issue of the 
 transaction ; so that I began to chide myself for 
 having entertained any doubt upon the point. 
 
 " You have the cheque with you, Ellen ?" said 
 my father, som'e little time after we had taken 
 our seats in the cab. 
 
 "Yes," I responded. "I put it into my purse 
 yesterday, the moment I received it from Mr, 
 Parks ; and I locked it up in my desk the instant 
 I got home. I did not touch my purse again until 
 dressing myself ere now to accompany you. I was 
 fearful of losing the draft !" 
 
 "You cannot be too careful in such matters, 
 Ellen," observed my father. 
 
 "1 will give you the cheque," I said, taking 
 out my purse from my pocket ; " and you can 
 present it. There is no necessity for me to enter 
 the bank." 
 
 While I was thus speaking, I began to open my 
 purse; and I drew forth the draft which I had so 
 cu-efully folded up and deposited there. I handed 
 it to my father, folded as it was. He took it— and 
 in a leisurely way began to open it as we drew 
 nearer to the bank. An ejasulation suddenly peal- 
 ing from his lips, startled mo as if with a power- 
 ful galvanic shock, I glanced at the paper which 
 he held in his hand, and I exclaimed, " For 
 heaven's sake, what is the matter P" 
 
 "Do you not see, Ellen?" gasped forth my 
 father, scarcely able to speak. "It is a blank !" 
 
 "A blank!" I echoed. "But turn it over! 
 You are looking on the wrong side !" 
 
 He turned it over ; and the other side of the 
 paper was likewise a blank. 
 
 " What can it mean ?" I asked, in consterna- 
 tion and dismay. 
 
 " Ah ! what does it mean ?" said my father, in 
 a tone of fierce bitterness. 
 
 " Mr. Parks must have given me a blank slip 
 of paper by mistake !" 1 said. 
 
 " Ifo— nothing of the sort, Ellen !" rejoined my 
 father, who was deadly pale and quivering with 
 excitement. "I told you yesterday that I care- 
 fully watched every stage of the proceedings; and 
 I never lost sight of the cheque from the first in- 
 stant that it was placed upon the desk. I did not 
 throw a single chance away ; for I knew that we 
 had to deal with a villain. And now," added my 
 fntlier, in the low hoarse voice of concentrated 
 rage, " in spite of all my precautions ho has oror- 
 reachcd us at last!" 
 
 "And yet I do not see how!" I said: and I 
 also was much excited, " If it were the real and 
 veritable cheque which he gave me — the cheque 
 with the writing upon it — that writing which said 
 as plain as writing could be, ' Poy to Miss JSllen 
 T'ercy, or hearer, the sum of thirti/-six thousand 
 three hundred pounds,' — if it wore that cheque, 
 
 father, which I saw with my own eyes and read 
 word for word and letter for letter— how could it 
 possibly have become a blank in my hands ?" 
 
 " Pool, fool that I was not to think of the pos- 
 sibility of this !" ejaculated my father, who seemed 
 as if he were heedless of the rapidly uttered ques- 
 tions I had been addressing to him. " Ah, Ellen !" 
 he continued, " you know not half tho villany 
 which may bo perpetrated in this world ! Have 
 you never heard of sympathetic inks ?" 
 
 "Sympathetic inksP" I ejaculated in astonish- 
 ment. " No ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 "Inks," continued my father, with a voice and 
 look of rage, — "inks which when written in one 
 colour, will turn to another if held to the fire!^ 
 inks so contrived that all species of delusions may 
 be accomplished by their aid for the amusenieut 
 of a party of children in a drawing-room — aye, 
 and for the deception of such grown-up persons 
 as consider themselves wiser than those children ! 
 And we, Ellen, are now the dupes of one of these 
 foul frauds !— for there is a sympathetic ink which 
 may be read plainly upon tho paper within a 
 certain time after it has traced its marks there, 
 but which at length begins gradually to disappear 
 until it vanishes entirely !" 
 
 "Good heavens!" I ejaculated, shocked and 
 horrified at the detestable nature of the fraud 
 which had rendered us its dupes. 
 
 At the same moment the cab stopped at tho 
 door of the banking-house in Lombard Street. 
 
 " We have no business here now," said my 
 father, in a tone of concentrated bitterness : then 
 suddenly thrusting his head forth from tho win- 
 dow, he exclaimed to the driver. " We have 
 forgotten something — we have made a mistake. 
 
 Turn— and take us at once to Square." 
 
 The vehicle turned accordingly; and we were 
 soon retracing our way through the crowded 
 thoroughfares of the City. 
 
 "By heaven!" ejaculated my father, "a trick 
 more fiendishly villanous was never committed ! 
 Bat the scoundrel shall not triumph over us ! We 
 I will speed to him— and unless he fulfils his bar- 
 gain, we will mercilessly give Lim into cus- 
 tody !" 
 
 "Perhaps," I said, with a tightening sensation 
 at the heart, "tho deed of conveyance in respect 
 to the house at Leeds is likewise by this tia:e a 
 blank ?" 
 
 " Heaven only can tell," exclaimed my father, 
 who was growing more and more excited, " to 
 what extent this miscreant's wickedness may havf 
 reached !" 
 
 "Pray tranquil'isa yourself!" I said, bccomiuf 
 alarmed at my father's looks: "I implore you tf 
 compose yourself !" 
 
 " Compose myself, Ellen ?" he cried, clenching 
 his fists in a fury of rage : "compose myself wher 
 I have seen you thus cruelly plundered and do 
 frauded— and when I could curse myself for iiaving 
 sat by and sanctioned all t!>e proceedings by whict 
 you are thus robbed ! Yet God knows how inno 
 
 cent I myself have been " 
 
 "Yes, yes, my dear father!" I exclaimed; "j 
 know it — I feel it all !— and therefore for heaven's 
 sake do not reproach yourself I Perhaps it would 
 be better for us to defer our visit to this vile un- 
 principled man ? perhaps we had better take legal 
 advice ?"
 
 340 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEilOIfiS OF AN ACXEESS. 
 
 " Or perhaps we ought to take a constable with 
 us," ejaculated my father, "and give him into 
 custody for forgery, embezzlement, robbery, and 
 fraud of every infamous description !" 
 
 "Let us then seek the advice of some clever 
 attorney," I said. " For God's sake, my dear 
 father, do nothing rashly ! Remember," I added 
 impressively, "Parks is acquainted with the ter- 
 rible secret of your life; and it were utter mad- 
 ness to provoke him to give publicity thereto, if 
 we at the same time shall be doing no good to 
 ourselves in respect to this money." 
 
 "We will at all events go to him at once, 
 Ellen!" cried my father, who was so maddened by 
 rage as to be scarcely capable of listening to the 
 voice of reason or the suggestions of prudence. 
 "We will confront the villain— we will hear what 
 
 he has to say And besides," added my father, 
 
 clutching at a straw of hope even iu the midst of 
 his boiling passion, "it is just possible, Ellen — 
 and only just possible — that he may have by acci- 
 dent given you that blank slip of paper instead of 
 the cheque which he had drawn out ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes — it is possible !" I said, not precisely 
 catching at a hope, but clutching at something 
 which might serve as a means of appeasing my 
 father's almost frenzied anger. 
 
 " Well, then," he rejoined, " let us suspend our 
 judgment. But, Ah ! we will take Hunter Street 
 in our way — you shall just glance at the deed of 
 conveyance which he gave you in respect to the 
 house at Leeds — and you shall see whether tJtat 
 likewise has become a blank or not." 
 
 " And if not, dear father," I hastened to reply, 
 " there is some hope — tell me, is there not some 
 hope that it may after all prove a mistake in re- 
 spect to the draft ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes !" exclaimed my father : " the matter 
 will certainly look less suspicious !" 
 
 He gave a fresh instruction to the cabman ; and 
 we proceeded to Hunter Street. There he waited 
 in the cab while I proceeded up-stairs to my cham- 
 ber ; and it was with nervously trembling hands 
 that I unlocked the writing-desk. A thrill of joy 
 swept through my heart as I opened the docu- 
 ment: the writing upon that parchment was as 
 black, as clear, and as legible as it was at the first 
 moment when my eyes glanced over it at the law- 
 yer's office on the preceding day. Restoring the 
 deed to the desk — which I carefully locked again 
 — I sped down the stairs; and the moment I ap- 
 proached the cab, my father read in my counte- 
 nance the result of my investigation. I took my 
 seat in the vehicle again; and it drove away in the 
 direction of the Square at the West End where 
 the house of Mr. Parks was situated. 
 
 " Then there is indeed hope !" ejaculated my 
 father, as I told him that the conveyance deed was 
 precisely in the same state as when first delivered 
 into my hands. 
 
 " With this impression, therefore," I observed, 
 " you will with a becoming calmness and compo- 
 sure seek the presence of Mr. Parks ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes !" replied my parent : " I will afford 
 him the fullest opportunity of rectifying the error 
 —if an error it be. And truly it may prove so !— 
 I may have been too quick in jumping at a con- 
 clusion !— for now that I recollect, there were seve- 
 ral slips of paper lying about on his desk ■ How- 
 ever, we shall soon know !" 
 
 In a few minutes we reached the lawyer's resi- 
 dence; and both of us glanced forth with eager- 
 ness at the windows, to see if there were any signs 
 of a flight having taken place during the past 
 night. But the footman in the gorgeous livery 
 was standing at the front door, angrily dismissing 
 a beggar who had audaciously (as the lacquey 
 thought) summoned him to solicit alms; and at 
 the sight of the servant my heart was cheered. 
 The domestic hastened to open the door of the cab; 
 and my father, in a voice of forced composure, in- 
 quired, " Is your master at home ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the lacquey; "and he is 
 disengaged too. Please to walk in." 
 
 At home — and not denied to us— but about to 
 receive us with as much readiness as if he had ex- 
 pected our visit and had bidden his footman admit 
 us instantly ! This certainly was a good sign! — 
 and my father's looks showed that he entertained 
 a similar opinion. The lacquey conducted us to 
 his master's private office, where the business of 
 the preceding day had been transacted; and there 
 we found Mr. Parks seated at his desk. On our 
 names being announced, he rose— not with that 
 diffident and abashed air with which he had met 
 us the day before, but with the ready off-hand 
 assurance of one who felt as if he had put himself 
 entirely right with regard to us. 
 
 "Ah ! how do you do ?" he exclaimed. "Pray 
 sit down. A fine day — isn't it ? Beautiful wea- 
 ther, considering that we are now in the first week 
 of October ! By the bye, Miss Percy, may I ask 
 when you are to appear again ? for I have some 
 friends coming up from the country in a fetr days, 
 who are most anxious to see you." 
 
 " I am not to appear again for a fortnight, Mr. 
 Parks," I replied, in a courteous tone ; for I felt 
 convinced by his off-hand unembarrassed manner 
 that everything was right, and that we in our 
 suspicions had accused him of a crime when it 
 might only be an accident of which he himself was 
 still ignorant. " On account of the death of my 
 relative, Mrs. Oldcastle, I consider it decent and 
 becoming to withdraw from the theatre for a brief 
 period." 
 
 "True !" ejaculated Parks: " quite proper ! And 
 now, to what may I ascribe the unexpected plea> 
 sure of this visit P" 
 
 " A little mistake has occurred," said my father, 
 now acting the part of spokesman, — " but a mis- 
 take which I see is unknown to you." 
 
 " A mistake ? Indeed !" ejaculated Mr. Parks, 
 with a look which fully coofirmed my idea that 
 be was innocent of the detestable fraud which we 
 had imputed to hioi. '*' What sort of a mis- 
 take ?" 
 
 " One that you can rectify in a few moments," 
 rejoined my father. " Only think of what a fright 
 we have been in ! Look hero ! Instead of giving 
 us the cheque, you gave us this slip of blank 
 paper." 
 
 " The deuce !" exclaimed Mr. Porks, with a look 
 of perfect amazement, as he took the paper from 
 my father's hand. " Well, 'pon my soul ! this ia 
 the strangest mistake that ever was made !" — ant' 
 he laughed heartily. " Blank ? So it is ! blank 
 on both sides !" — then with another laugh he tore 
 up the slip and tossed it into his waste-paper 
 basket. 
 
 " Yes, it is a droll mistake," said my father, notr
 
 liLLEN PEliCV ; OK, THE MKAIOIKS OL' AX ACXJilii: 
 
 341 
 
 luughiug ia his turn. " But as I observed, you 
 can soon rectify it." 
 
 " To be sure !" cried Parks, taking up bis pen. 
 "But stop a moment ! Business is business, jou 
 know. Don't consider yourselves insulted — it's 
 only a professional precaution tbat I am just going 
 to adopt :" — and he rang the bell. 
 
 The clerk who had witnessed the deeds on the 
 preceding day, answered the summons. 
 
 " Mr. Mosa," said the lawyer, " take a cab at 
 once, and be ofif to the bankers. They have got 
 my pass-book. Just request them to make it up 
 to the latest moment; and bring it along with you 
 as quick as ever you can." 
 
 Mr. Moss bowed and retired. 
 
 " The cheque may have been presented, you 
 know," continued Mr. Parks when the clerk had 
 withdrawn ; " and we must just see that the affair 
 is all right and straightforward. I am sorry that 
 Mrs. Parks is not at home at the moment ; but 
 you can walk up into the drawing-room and wait 
 till Moss returns. I will let you know the instant 
 he comes back." 
 
 " Mr. Parks," I said, with the colour mantling 
 upon my cheek, " you cannot for an instant sup- 
 pose that I am capable of obtaining money on 
 one cheque, and then coming to defraud you of 
 another ?" 
 
 " Mr. Parks is right, my dear Ellen, in adopt- 
 ing his precautions," interjected my father : " it 
 is all consistent with business-habits — the more 
 especially as the sum is a large one." 
 
 " I beg Mr. Parks's forgiveness," I said, in a 
 tone of renewed courtesy, " if my observation were 
 offensive." 
 
 " Ob, I forgive you, Ellen !" he exclaimed, with 
 a cheerful laugh : " your sex understands nothing 
 of business. But pray go to the drawing-room. 
 You will have about an hour and a half to wait ; 
 and I will presently send you up luncheon." 
 
 My father and myself accordingly ascended to 
 the drawing-room, — both of us being thoroughly 
 convinced that the circumstance which had so 
 alarmed and excited us, was an error after all, 
 and that it would be presently rectified. Nearly 
 two hours elapsed, — at the expiration of which 
 period we heard a vehicle stop at the house ; and 
 my father, hastening to the window, announced that 
 Mr. Moss bad returned. Two or three minutes 
 afterwards Mr. Parks came up into the drawing- 
 room, with his banker's book open in his hand. 
 
 " By Jove, this is serious !" he exclaimed, shut- 
 ting the door behind him. " The cheque has been 
 presented and paid. Here it is, you see — the very 
 last entry !" 
 
 " Good heavens !" I exclaimed. " But how is 
 this possible ? I declare to you, Mr. Parks " 
 
 " Ah ! how is it possible ?" ejaculated the law- 
 yer : and methought that there was a certain 
 iron; in his tone as well as a suspicious gleaming 
 in his looVs. " Here is the name sure enough ! 
 ' Ellen Fercy' — with the amount duly entered. 
 And by the bye, Mr. Moss has just told me that 
 one of the clerks at the bank casually mentioned 
 to him that this last cheque was presented by a 
 lady closely veiled, the very moment the doors 
 of the bank opened this morning." 
 
 " Some terrible fraud has been perpetrated !" I 
 exclaimed, infinitely excited and indignant. 
 
 " A fraud ?" exclaimed my father furiously : 
 
 "yes— and of a most mysterious description I 
 Would you bo kind enough to let me look at the 
 entry in your book, Mr. Parks ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered the lawyer, whose man- 
 ner was now to all appearance cold and suspici- 
 ous. 
 
 " Why, what is this P" cried my father in asto- 
 nishment, as be glanced at the book which Mr. 
 Parks handed him. "The entry is, ' Ellen Ferei/ 
 —3,000?.' " 
 
 "Ah!" I ejaculated, as an idea of treachery 
 at once smote me. 
 
 " Well," said Parks, with the most remarkable 
 coolness, "and pray what ought the entry to 
 be?" 
 
 My father gazed upon him for nearly a minute 
 in mingled astonishment and consternation, as if 
 he could scarcely satisfy himself that the scene ho 
 beheld enacting before him was a real one— and as 
 if be were equally at a loss to comprehend the 
 attorney's drift. 
 
 "Well," said Parks, with an effrontery which 
 was perfectly astounding, " and pray what the 
 deuce does all this mean ?" 
 
 " It is not, sir, of the cheque for 3,000?. that I 
 and my daughter have been speaking : for this 
 cheque was never supposed to have been drawa 
 for presentation at all. It is another cheque, 
 sir," added my father emphatically, — • " another 
 cheque- ■ ■" 
 
 " Another cheque ?" said Parks, as if smitten 
 with amazement. " I don't understand you." 
 
 "Good God!" cried my father: "is it pos- 
 sible -" 
 
 "Now I tell you what it is, Mr- Percy — Croft—. 
 Forsyth — or whatever name you choose to call 
 yourself by," interjected Parks, with an insolent 
 tone, brow-beating look, and blustering manner, 
 " it is pretty clear you have come to play off 
 your tricks upon me : but it won't do. And as 
 for you, Ellen — I am ashamed of you!" 
 
 "Mr. Parks," I said, advancing straight up to 
 him. while the blood glowed and burnt upon my 
 cheeks and I felt that my eyes wore flashing 
 fire, "you are a villain — and in your heart you 
 know it !" 
 
 " It's lucky for you that you are a woman and 
 not a man," said the lawyer, turning very pale, 
 and retreating a pace or two, as if he really 
 thought that I should attack him. " But you 
 had better take care how you use harsh names." 
 
 "Forger!" I ejaculated, unable to restrain my. 
 self. 
 
 "Daughter of a forger!" exclaimed Parks, but 
 at the same time springing behind the centre* 
 table of the drawing-room : so as to place it be- 
 twixt himself on the one side and myself and 
 father on the other. 
 
 But he had no need to be afraid of me at that 
 instant ; for I was powerless to harm him : I had 
 been stricken a sudden blow — my heart was smit> 
 ten with the direst affliction. I felt that by yield- 
 ing to a paroxysm of rage, I had evoked the taunt 
 which rebounded so terribly upon the head of my 
 parent. 
 
 " Father," I said, in a voice that was low and 
 tremulous with a sense of utter humiliation on my 
 own account, and of commiseration on his, " for- 
 give me ! It is my fault that this bad man should 
 be enabled to insult you !"
 
 342 
 
 ELLES PEECY ; OB, THE MEilOIRS OJ AN ACTEESS. 
 
 " Grieve not for me, Ellen," he replied — 
 though he himself had been horribly wounded in 
 the most vulnerable point of his heart. " It is 
 one of the punishments due to my past errors; 
 and I submit. Mr. Parks," he continued, turning 
 towards the lawyer, " let us speak, if you please, 
 with as little passion as possible — and without any 
 abuse. I demand from you, in the name of my 
 daughter, a cheque for 36,300?.; and if you 
 give it me not, you must take the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 " You have said well," replied the lawyer, 
 "when you proposed that we should plead our 
 respective causes Vithout passion. There seems 
 to be a misapprehension on one side or another ; 
 and with your permission I will adopt the means 
 of setting it at rest. I beg that in the presence 
 of a person whom I am about to summon hither, 
 no harsh word may be thrown out agaiust myself 
 —or I shall use harsh words in return. I also 
 desire that no accusation be made — or I shall turn 
 round and recriminate. Let us hear the wit- 
 Bess; and when he is gone we will discuss the 
 points." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, the lawyer has- 
 tily opened the door and went forth upon the 
 landing, whence he shouted out, " Mr. Moss !" 
 
 In a few moments the clerk made his appear- 
 ance ; and I hastily whispered to my father, " For 
 heaven's sake be calm ! I entreat you to remain 
 altogether silent vhile Mr. Moss is present. It 
 would be terrible to have an exposure before 
 him!" 
 
 " I will obey you, my dear child," answered my 
 father, likewise speaking in a whisper:— and he 
 eat down. 
 
 I also took a chair, as a sort of tacit assurance 
 to my father that I intended to treat the whole 
 subject with calmness and deliberation : but Mr. 
 Parks, taking his station on the hearth-rug, leant 
 bis back against the mantel — stuck his thumbs 
 into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said, 
 " Now, Mr. Moss, have the kindness to answer me 
 a few words." 
 
 The clerk bowed, as he stood at the centre 
 table, on which one hand rested. 
 
 " Mr. Moss," proceeded the lawyer, " you yes- 
 terday witnessed a deed which Miss Percy signed 
 in your presence ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir— to be sure, sir:" — and the clerk 
 looked with a sort of astonishment at me as if he 
 thought I had been denying tny signature to the 
 deed. 
 
 " And what did that document set forth P" de- 
 manded Mr. Parks. 
 
 " Ob, sir," responded Moss, " it was plain and 
 simple enough, to the effect that for certain con- 
 siderations Miss Percy renounced all legal pro- 
 ceedings on account of the deceased Mr. Forsyth's 
 will — that she recognised its validity and its 
 legality — that she agreed, so far as she was con- 
 cerned, it should remain in full force, and that she 
 abandoned to you, sir, all the rights which you 
 already enjoyed by virtue of that will." 
 
 " And what were the considerations for which 
 Miss Percy made these concessions ?" inquired Mr. 
 Parks. 
 
 " For the conveyance of the house at Leeds, 
 estimated as being worth 1,500?,, and for a sum 
 of 3,000?. in ready money." 
 
 " Was the conveyance of the house made?' 
 
 " It was, sir." 
 
 " Was the sum of 3,000Z, paid ?" 
 
 " It was, sir." 
 
 " How was it paid ?" asked Parks. 
 
 " By a cheque, sir, upon your bankers," replied 
 Mr. Moss. . 
 
 " Did Miss Percy place her name at the back of 
 that cheque P" 
 
 " To be sure, sir. I saw her thus receipt it." 
 
 " Have you positive knowledge," asked the law- 
 yer, " that the cheque has been presented and 
 paid ?" 
 
 " I have the positive knowledge, sir," rejoined 
 the clerk. 
 
 " That will do, Mr. Moss. Thank you. You 
 can retire." 
 
 The clerk bowed and withdrew accordingly. My 
 father and I had sat in profound silence through- 
 out the above colloquy : but I saw by my parent's 
 looks that he gradually comprehended, as well as I 
 did, the diabolical scheme of villany by which Mr. 
 Parks had put himself right in respect to the 
 forged will, — retaining possession of the immense 
 bulk of my fortune, and taking a stand which 
 enabled him to set us at defiance. He had sacri- 
 ficed the house at Leeds only ; this comparatively 
 worthless property he had made over to me in 
 order to give a colour to the transaction between 
 us ; and as for the cheque for 3,000Z., it had doubt- 
 less been presented by his wife or some other 
 female accomplice, who on receiving the money at 
 the bankers', at once restored it to Mr. Parks him- 
 self. Y"es— I now saw it all!— and when on the 
 preceding day he had crumpled up that small 
 cheque and tossed it into the fender, it was with 
 the studied intention of taking it forth thence and 
 using it in the manner described ; for it had my 
 name at the back of it — and thus when passed 
 into the bankers' hands, would have the effect of 
 a receipt for the sum specified in the deed. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Parks, when the clerk had 
 retired, — "and now how does the business look P 
 what aspect does it wear?" 
 
 " You best know, sir," responded my father, in 
 a low deep voice, which was indicative of a sense 
 of utter discomfiture, " to what extent you have 
 deceived us." 
 
 " Oh !" ejaculated Parks, " since you mean to 
 revert to strong language, I shall adopt the same. 
 Look you ! If I did but raise my voice, I might 
 summon a policeman hither to take you both into 
 custody for endeavouring to defraud me out of a 
 cheque for 3,000? , when the one you received has 
 been presented and cashed." 
 
 " Ob, Mr. Parks !" I cried, " how can you speak 
 thus ? You know that we never received that 
 cheque— but that it was one for twelve times the 
 amount which we did receive !" 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense !" exclaimed the lawyer, 
 who now had the effrontery to simulate impatience 
 and indignation. "You are mad! For what 
 earthly reason should I have given you such a 
 cheque? The transaction was all bond Jide — at 
 least on my part : the deeds are in existence— and 
 my clerk witnessed everything." 
 
 "Ellen," said my father, in a hollow voice, "it 
 is useless for us to remain here. 1 see it all. 
 Your generosity has been imposed upon ; and the 
 forms of the law have been invoked with a devilish
 
 ELLEN PEHCY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 313 
 
 ingenuity to give a particular complexion to the 
 whole business. Everything tells against us for 
 the present — but only for the present! No I — 
 because," continued my father, raising his voice 
 to a menacing tone, " heaven will not suffer a 
 pure-minded, generous-hearted, and virtuous girl, 
 as you are, to be for ever debarred of your just 
 rights! Come, Ellen! The very atmosphere of 
 this house is contaminating," 
 
 Mr. Parks was perhaps sufficiently well pleased 
 with the iniquitous success which he had consum- 
 mated—and was perhaps likewise too cowardly to 
 throw out any fresh taunt which might lash up 
 my father's and my own spirit into a fury : so he 
 uttered not another syllable— but lounged with 
 his back against tho mantel, with his hands diving 
 down deep into his breeches- pockets, at the same 
 time that he contemplated his patent leather boots 
 in a nonchalant style . I also remained silent; for 
 I was fearful that if another irritating word were 
 spoken, Mr. Parks might turn round with some 
 terrible recrimination against my sire; and the 
 heart of the latter had been already sufficiently 
 wounded on my account. 
 
 I followed my father from the room ; and as we 
 reached the front door, ho said, " I shake off the 
 dust from my feet against this house of inicjuity 
 and crime !" 
 
 CHAPTEE LX. 
 
 THE CLIFF. 
 
 We walked slowly in silence through the Square, 
 — both of us absorbed in our painful reflections. 
 At length my father suddenly said, " It is a vil- 
 lany, Ellen, of the most unheard-of description ! 
 Nothing remains to you, my poor girl, of the 
 fortune which is justly your's but the old houso at 
 Leeds !" 
 
 " And I am thankful that I am in possession of 
 that house !" was my response. 
 
 " Yes— it is a stupendous villany," continued 
 my parent. "Do you see bow well the wretch 
 has combined all hia plans — with what artistic in- 
 genuity ho has woven the tissue of his turpitude, 
 80 that in the eye of the law he is no longer a 
 forger or an embezzler ? There is not the slightest 
 ground for invoking justice to compel the restitu- 
 tion of his plunder unfo those hands from which 
 he has plundered it— nor to smite him as the per- 
 petrator of frauds and villanies! Ellen, for you, 
 my dear girJ, my soul is exceedingly sorrow- 
 ful !" 
 
 " Let it not be so, my dear father," I inter- 
 rupted him. " If all our hopes have been de- 
 stroyed, I am still where I was before ever those 
 hopes were entertained. I have not abandoned 
 my profession ; and this profession produces me at 
 the rate of two thousand a-year." 
 
 " Heaven be thanked that it is so !" exclaimed 
 my father. "You must some day go to Leeds 
 and take possession of your house " 
 
 " I have a proposition to make," I interrupted 
 him. " Will you accept of it? will jou fix your 
 home there ?" 
 
 " No, my dear child," replied my father : " I 
 could not endure to dwell in a houso which would 
 
 remind me of the period when you yourself were 
 living there, ignorant of your parent's crimes, and 
 ho in banishment the while in a far-off land ! 
 Besides," added my father hastily, as he perceived 
 that the painful topic had drawn tears from my 
 eyes, " I would not be so far removed from the 
 sphere in which you aro shining. No, Ellen I I 
 have now nothing more to do in London ; and I 
 have heard of a little cottage at Forest Hill, but a 
 few miles hence, to which I purpose to retire. I 
 shall proceed thither to morrow. You will come 
 and see me occasionally ; and I shall sometimes— 
 though more rarely — call in Hunter Street to visit 
 you. Grieved am I to exist in dependence upon 
 your bounty •" 
 
 " Hush ! not a word, my dear father, on that 
 subject !" I ejaculated. "The thought that I am 
 enabled to minister to your wants, inspires me 
 when pursuing tho avocations of my profes- 
 sion." 
 
 After some little further conversation, my 
 father and I separated ; and I returned to Hunter 
 Street. To say that I was not grieved at the loss 
 of my fortune— a loss which now appeared beyond 
 all redemption — would be to assert something un- 
 natural and to ask the reader to give credence to 
 an untruth. But I bore that loss with philoso- 
 phical resignation; and I was rejoiced to think 
 that I had not spoken of my hopes to any of my 
 friends. 
 
 A fortnight passed ; and I re-appeared upon the 
 stage— as likewise did Mr. and Mrs. Norman. I 
 was most enthusiastically welcomed by a crowded 
 house ; and Mary Glentworth now for the first 
 time beheld me in pursuance of my professional 
 avocations. When the performance was over and 
 we were again at home, she threw herself into my 
 arms, weeping with the various emotions which 
 my personification of one of my favourite cha- 
 racters had excited within her ; and she exclaimed, 
 " Oh, Ellen ! I would give the best years of my 
 life for one single hour of triumph such aa you 
 have enjoyed this night !" 
 
 I smiled at her enthusiasm : but the incident 
 made a somewhat serious impression upon my 
 mind : for, remembering the conversation which 
 had taken place between us the first day we ever 
 met — remembering likewise her volume of Shak- 
 sjiere, with the pencilled underlinings — I could not 
 help thinking that she had possibly conceived a 
 passion for the stage. 
 
 On the following day the Normans and I had 
 to attend rehearsal at the hour of noon ; and as 
 Mary G-lentworth wished to make some purchases 
 at the West End, she proceeded in the carriage 
 on her shopping expedition. My presence at the 
 theatre was only needed for about an hour : but 
 Mr. and Mrs. Norman had to remain at rehearsal 
 for some time longer. It was therefore arranged 
 that Mary should return with the carriage to 
 fetch mo at one o'clock; and at about that hour 
 it was announced to me that the equipage was in 
 waiting. I accordingly quitted the theatre, and 
 was stepping into the carriage, when I was struck 
 by the joyous enthusiasm that animated Mary's 
 countenance. She had evidently something im- 
 portant to communicate ; and she could scarcely 
 restrain herself while the footman was putting up 
 the steps and closing the door. At length, as the 
 equipago began to move on, Mary seized my
 
 344 
 
 ELI/BN PEECT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE3S, 
 
 hand ; and pressing it, with efifueion, exclaimed, 
 ' Oh, dearest Ellen ! such a discovery !" 
 
 I trembled : for I knew that it must be some- 
 thing relative to her supposed uncle— her real 
 father, the Duke of Ardleigh. But veiling my 
 agitation, I said, " "What is it, Mary ?" 
 
 " My uncle— I have seen him !" she cried, half 
 bewildered with joy. 
 
 " And did he see you ?" I hastily demanded. 
 
 "No: the carriages passed so rapidly. But I 
 knew him in a moment! Oh, yes— I knew him ! 
 it was impossible to mistake him ! And, Oh ! 
 what a splendid carriage was he seated in! — 
 armorial blazonry upon the panels — the coachman 
 on the box and the two footmen behind in 
 gorgeous liveries, and with their hair powdered ! 
 Ah, I told you that Mr. Glentworth must be a 
 gentleman ; but I had not an idea that he was so 
 rich as this !" 
 
 "And he did not see you?" I said, scarcely 
 knowing what I did say ; for I was musing in a 
 perplexed and painful manner. 
 
 "1^0— he did not see me," rejoined Mary: 
 " he was seated with a stout red- faced gentle- 
 man " 
 
 "Mr. Peaseblossom," I mentally ejaculated. 
 
 " And he had something in his hand — I think 
 it must have been a violin— but I really could not 
 tell. Oh ! now I am resolved to take some mea- 
 sures to find him out — at least with your consent; 
 
 for of course I would not do anything without 
 
 And you must remember, dear Ellen, that for the 
 last fortnight I have not alluded to the subject, 
 although you promised me that in the course of 
 a few days yoa would tell me how I should act ?" 
 
 " Yes — and I have been th'nking of it," I an- 
 swered. " Now I must again ask you, dearest 
 Mary, to be guided by my advice ? Indeed, I 
 will see into this matter at once." 
 
 " Ah, then you know something of which I am 
 ignorant !" exclaimed Mary. " I thought so : I 
 was sure of it! But have your own way. I 
 know that you are my dearest friend, and that 
 whatever you do is for my good. Only keep me 
 not in suspense longer than you can help, I con- 
 jure you, dear Ellen !" 
 
 " No— I will not," I responded, deeply afifected 
 by the sweet conBding manner in which the 
 amiable girl addressed me. " Do not speak to me 
 again on this subject until I myself renew it, and 
 then it shall be to tell you something decisive." 
 
 On reaching Hunter Street, I repaired to my 
 own chamber to write a letter to the Duke of 
 Ardleigh. During the fortnight which had elapsed 
 since Mary Glentworth first broached the topic, I 
 had postponed from day to day the disagreeable 
 task of renewing any communication with that 
 nobleman : but now I was determined to procras- 
 tinate it no longer, for the matter was becoming 
 serious. I therefore wrote to him in a guarded 
 strain, for fear lest the letter should fall into the 
 hands of others ; and I sent it to the post. All the 
 next day elapsed without bringing any answer; 
 and I was surprised at the circumstance. The 
 next day likewise passed in silence so far as th 
 Duke of Ardleigh was concerned ; and I dreaded 
 lest my letter should have been intercepted by his 
 imperious, jealous wife. The ensuing morning's 
 post, however, brought me the anxiously expected 
 response. It was dated from the Ship Hotel 
 
 at Dover, where it appeared the Duke and 
 Duchess were temporarily staying with their 
 family, previous to passing over to the Continent, 
 as they were going to spend the winter in Italy. 
 The Duke informed me that my letter relative to 
 Mary had given him great pain, and that he was 
 most anxious to see me, if only for a few minutes, 
 previous to his leaving England. He said that 
 for certain reasons (which he did not however ex- 
 plain) it was quite impossible for him to come up 
 to London ; and ho entreated me, as I was in the 
 secret and was Mary's friend, to run down to 
 Dover and grant him an interview. He intimated 
 how such a meeting might be arranged; and 
 wound up by a renewed entreaty that I would 
 grant his request. 
 
 Now it happened singularly enough that almost 
 at the same time that I received this letter, a 
 footman from the Marquis of Campanella's brought 
 me a note from Beatrice di Garboni, to the efi'eot 
 that she was going to Dover — that the Marquis 
 and Marchioness were unable to accompany her 
 — and that she appealed to my friendship to be 
 her companion for the trip. A hint, contained in 
 a couple of lines, gave me to understand that it 
 was for something in connexion with her husband 
 that she was desirous to pay a fiying visit to 
 Dover. For Mary Glentworth's sake I was al- 
 ready inclined to grant the Duke of Ardleigh 
 his request ; and the opportunity of being accom- 
 panied by the Countess of Carboni, confirmed me 
 in the idea. I therefore despatched an affirma- 
 tive answer to Beatrice, — specifying the following 
 day as the one on which I should be enabled to 
 start on the journey ; for circumstances fortu- 
 nately enabled me to obtain a dispensation from 
 attendance at the theatre on the evening of 
 the day next ensuing, so that I could command 
 four clear days for the purpose. To Mr. and 
 Mrs. Norman, as well as to Mary Glentworth, I 
 merely stated that I was going to accompany the 
 Countess of Carboni (with whom they knew I 
 was well acquainted) on a flying visit to Dover : 
 but I of course promised the Normans that I 
 should call at Eiver House to see Lord and Lady 
 Frederick EavensclifiFe. 
 
 In the morning of the following day the Coun- 
 tess of Carboni called for me in the' Marquis of 
 Campanella's travelling-carriage ; and I was soon 
 seated by her side in the vehicle. I should ob< 
 serve that I did not take Beda with me on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 " This is most kind of you, my dear Ellen I" 
 said Beatrice : " for I should not have liked to 
 travel alone — which would have been the case 
 were it not for your goodness in bearing me com- 
 pany. My sister the Marchioness is suffering, as 
 you know, with a very severe cold ; and the Mar^ 
 quis has important business which retains him in 
 London." 
 
 " And it is your husband, my dear Beatrice," 
 I said, " whom you are going to see ?" 
 
 "Yes," she responded, with a mournful look: 
 "and you can easily comprehend that I dread the 
 interview. You were kind enough to inform me 
 the other day how it had come to your knowledge 
 that he had settled in a cottage in the neighbour- 
 hood of Dover ; and the intelligence proves to be 
 strictly correct. He desires to see me for the last 
 time, if only for a few minutes. The letter
 
 ELLEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEES3 
 
 oio 
 
 
 1 
 
 ^'^^ 
 
 M^ %\ 
 
 '■if 
 
 
 ilr.Ji! 
 
 1 ' 
 
 [\'\ 
 
 ^^^Ji 
 
 ' 1 il J 
 
 J 
 
 l^b"^' 
 
 "vi 
 
 which I received from bim the day before yester- 
 day, was written in a tone of the most earnest 
 entreaty ; and I could not therefore refuse his de- 
 mand. It is now upvrards of seven months since 
 last I saw him — I never expected that we should 
 meet again — and methinks that he must have 
 some strong reason for desiring this interview." 
 
 "You cannot therefore surmise what this 
 reason may be ?" I said. 
 
 " No : it is impossible," rejoined Beatrice. 
 " The Count writes in a very mournful and de- 
 sponding strain. Perhaps he is ill ? perhaps he 
 fears that the hour of his dissolution is not far off 
 —and he may have some parting words to say P 
 At all events I have the consciousness of perform- 
 ing my duty both as a wife and a Christian, in 
 complying with this demand for a last brief inter- 
 view." 
 
 It is needless to relate any more of the con- 
 versation which took place between the Countess 
 No. 44(.— Ellen Peect. 
 
 and myself during our journey. We travelled as 
 rapidly as post-horses could bear us ; and in the 
 afternoon we came in sight of Eiver House. I 
 pointed it out to Beatrice as the residence of the 
 Normans' daughter, now Lady Frederick Eavens- 
 cliffe; and as we passed the dwelling, I looked to 
 see if I could catch a glimpse of my friend Juliet. 
 Yes!— she and Lord Frederick were walking to- 
 gether in the grounds : they did not notice the 
 equipage as it rolled rapidly along : but from the 
 manner in which Juliet was leaning upon her hus- 
 band's arm, I felt assured that his conduct still 
 continued affectionate towards her. 
 
 " And there," I said to Beatrice, " is the cottage 
 where your husband dwells !" 
 
 She glanced forth from the window at the pic- 
 turesque little habitation ; and then we both leant 
 back in the carriage, as we did not wish at that 
 moment to incur the chance of being seen by the 
 Count: for Beatrice bad decided upon driving
 
 316 
 
 ELLEN PEECr; OR, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 Btrniglit into Dover in the first instance, and then 
 walking out in a private manner to visit her hus- 
 band. 
 
 In a few more minutes the equipage was enter- 
 ing the streets of Dover ; and the postilion bad 
 ah-eady received my instructions respecting the 
 hotel to which he was to take us; for 1 had no 
 inclination to put up at the establishment where 
 the Ardleigh family was staying. It was at about 
 four o'clock in the afternoon when we thus reached 
 our destination ; and we at onee ordered dinner 
 to be served up ; for Beatrice had decided upon 
 availing herself of the dusk to pay the visit to 
 her husband. As for the Duke of Ardleigh, I 
 could do aothing until the following day in re- 
 spect to my contemplated interview with his 
 Grace; 
 
 Beatrice asked me to accompany her for A por- 
 tion of the way to the cottage where her husband 
 dwelt,— not merely because she vrai ignorant of 
 the rout© which led to it, but likewise because 
 from motives of delicacy she did not like to leave 
 the hotel by herself id the evpning. I readily 
 consented ; and at about six o'clock we walked 
 forth together. As we S:eW near the cottage, 
 Beatrice begged me to Wait for her in the neigh- 
 bourhood, — assuring me that the interview witb 
 her husband eould not possibly be a long one. 
 To this proposal I likewise assented ; and we tem- 
 porarily separated, — the Countess pursuing ber 
 way towards her husband's abode. I did not 
 think it expedient to repair at onee to Eiver 
 Sduse to see Juliet; for I did not suppose that 
 Beatrice would be altogether more than half-an- 
 hour absent ; and thus I had no tiffle to pass with 
 Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe. She would naturally 
 have thought it strange if I merely paid her a 
 flying visit of a few minutes, without giving ex- 
 planations to account for ffiy hurry in leaving 
 her ; and those explanations I Was unable to give, 
 inasmuch as they would necessarily involve the 
 secrets connected with my friend Beatrice and the 
 secluded dweller at the little cottage. 
 
 I walked to and fro in the road : but I bad not 
 been many minutes alone, when Beatrice re- 
 turned. 
 
 " The Count is not at home," she said ; "and it 
 is quite uncertain at what hour ho will be back. 
 It appears that he is accustomed to wander upon 
 the cliffs — sometimes till a late hour; and an old 
 gardener whom I have just met, tells me that if I 
 particularly wish to see the Count to-night, I am 
 sure to find him on those heights yonder :" — and 
 Beatrice pointed in the direction of Shakspere's 
 Cliff. 
 
 " What, then, have you done ? or what do you 
 purpose to do ?" I inquired. 
 
 " I simply said that the domestics were to tell 
 their master that the lady whom he was expecting 
 had called, and that slje would seek another early 
 opportunity of repeating her visit. But I wish 
 that this interview was over, Ellen !" continued 
 Beatrice, her tone having accents that bordered 
 on anguish : " for you cannot be surprised if I tell 
 you that I look upon my husband with a feeling 
 bordering upon abhorrence." 
 
 "Do you think it useless," I inquired, "to 
 wait at the cottagu a little while for him ?" 
 
 "It seems to be a chance," responded the 
 Couutese, "whether he will return before nine 
 
 or ten o'clock — and he may be even later. I 
 would give anything to see him this evening !" 
 
 I comprehended what was passing in the mind 
 of Beatrice. She wished to seek her husband 
 upon the cliffs; but she was afraid to proceed 
 thither alone— and she was diffident in asking me 
 to aceorcpany her. I did not wonder that she 
 should be anxious to accomplish a most disagree- 
 able task with the least possible delay ; and I 
 commiserated ray poor friend. I therefore said, 
 after a little reflection, " If you be desirous of 
 seeking (he Count upon the cliffs, I will show 
 you the wa* thither, Beatrice. The shades of 
 evening are closing in; but it is still sufficiently 
 light to enable us to venture in all safety and 
 security. You have doubtless heard of Shakspere's 
 Cliff ? — and it is thither that we must bend our 
 steps." 
 
 " A thodnind thanks, my dear ElleU, for this 
 offer to accompany me !" murmured Beatrice, 
 pressing my band warmly in token of her grati- 
 tude. "Yes — I do wish to seek the Count this 
 evening. I dread the interview! The bare 
 thought of meeting that man conjures up the 
 
 ghastliest images irt tny mind you know what 
 
 I mean and the sooner the interview is over 
 
 the better." 
 
 "I will go with you, Beatrice," I said. "The 
 instant we distinguish the Count at a distance, 
 you caii hasten forward to meet him— you need 
 not tell him, unless you think fit, who it is that 
 has accompanied you— and the increasing gloom 
 of the evening will veil me from his recogni- 
 tion." 
 
 '\7e walked along together: and as all that re- 
 gion was tolerably familiar to me— for I had wan- 
 dered there when staying at River House— I was 
 enabled to conduct Beatrice by the shortest route 
 towards the spot where she expected to meet her 
 husband. In about a quarter of an hour we were 
 entering Upon the ascent, which for a space rises 
 gradually, until it grows into the steepness which 
 forms the summit of Shakspere's Cliff. The cul- 
 tivated land stretches to the point where this steep- 
 ness begins; and then the soil is covered with 
 grass. The shades of evening were deepening 
 around us ; the wind began to blow cold ; dark 
 clouds were piling themselves upon the arch of 
 heaven : but still it was suflSciently light to show 
 us the dark ridges of the clifis, and the flagstaff' 
 that marks the precipitous verge of the height to 
 which the name of Shakspere has been given. 
 
 TTe were now entering upon the steep summit 
 of the cliff itself: we proceeded slowly, stopping 
 ever and anon to fling our looks around us in the 
 hope of discerning the object of our search. I 
 must confess that I began to experience a sensa- 
 tion of alarm— that vague species of apprehension 
 which may be well understood as being an impres- 
 sion produced by the loneliness of the spot where 
 I was thus wandering with a being as defenceless 
 as myself in the presence of any danger that might 
 arise. The wind had a mournful sound : the as- 
 pect of the heavens grew more and more threat- 
 ening ; and I could not help thinking that if wo 
 were to encounter any evil-disposed persons, they 
 might plunder or maltreat us without a single 
 chance on our part of obtaining succour. Beatrice 
 shared my own apprehensions : tor she presently 
 said to me, in the halt-hushed voice in which terror
 
 speaks, " This is a dreadful lonely place, Ellen ! 
 1 am almost sorry that we have come hither 1" 
 
 At that moment I felt ashamed of the weakness 
 to which I had been yielding ; and assuming a 
 cheerful tone, I exclaimed, " But look, Beatrice ! 
 There, upon our left hand, as if at our feet, gleam 
 the lights of Dover, — and a few minutes' walk 
 would bring us into its streets !" 
 
 "True !" replied the Countess : "but still we are 
 far enough off to prevent our loudest cries from 
 
 bringing succour to our aid in case Ah !" she 
 
 ejaculated, thus suddenly interrupting herself: 
 " there is some one !" 
 
 I glanced in the direction which Beatrice had 
 thus abruptly indicated ; and there I beheld a 
 human form, evideutly enveloped in a cloak. I 
 had little doubt that it was the restless, conscience- 
 stricken wanderer, the Count of Carboni. But a 
 sensation bordering on superstitious terror seized 
 upon me, when it struck me that the Count ap- 
 peared to be walking along the very edge of the 
 precipice itself. Beatrice and I had stopped short ; 
 and we were gazing up the steep ascent on the 
 extreme verge of which the object of our attention 
 seemed to be slowly pursuing his way. Through 
 the gloom of the evening his naturally tall form 
 appeared to be taller still: it stood out in the 
 blackness of bold relief against the dark back- 
 ground of the sky. 
 
 "Now for the ordeal which I so much dread,'' 
 faltered Beatrice in a trembling tone. " Remain 
 you here, Ellen, while I hasten forward to accost 
 my husband. Ah i" and thus again did a sudden 
 ejaculation buret forth from the lips of the Coun- 
 tess. 
 
 At the same moment I distinguished the cause 
 of this ejaculation. Another human form had ap- 
 peared upon the ridge of the height, — seeming as 
 if it had all in an instant sprung up from the 
 earth itself— though it was doubtless its sudden 
 emerging from a winding path in the vicinage 
 which produced this startling idea. And that 
 second form had thus iu the twinkling of an eye 
 revealed itself at the distance of but a few yards 
 behind the spot where the Count himself was at 
 the moment. We beheld the Count stop short 
 and turn abruptly round as if he had been startled 
 by hearing ijotsteps behind him — or else as if 
 upon his ear had broken a voice inaudible to us at 
 the distance whence we surveyed this sceoe. 
 
 Beatrice and I still remained riveted as it were 
 to that spot where in the first instance we had 
 stopped short ; and wo both felt as if we were 
 about to become the witnesses of some scene the 
 anticipation of which exercised a superstitious 
 awe upon our minds. We might be compared to 
 those travellers amidst the Hartz mountains, who 
 are suddenly startled and terrified by beholding 
 the mirage-like reflection of the forms which, be- 
 longing to the range of atmospherical phenomena, 
 constitute tbe Spectres of the Brocken. 
 
 " Look !" suddenly exclaimed Beatrice, while a 
 cry of terror pealing from her lips, was echoed by 
 a similar one from mine own. 
 
 And no wonder!— for all in a moment we be- 
 held a horrible and frightful scene. That second 
 form which had appeared upon the height, rushed 
 suddenly at the Count of Carboni : ejaculations 
 of rage, borne upon the wings of the wind, 
 reached our ears; and, O heavens! how terrific 
 
 were our sensations 1 In the twinkling of an 
 eye those two forms had closed as if in a deadly 
 struggle upon the very verge of the cliff — a 
 struggle upon an eminence abruptly closing on a 
 precipice, at the foot of which, far below, was the 
 beach of the sea ! Words have no power to describe 
 the glacial horror which seized upon me, — a horror 
 which as fully smoto my companion. But the 
 hideous scene itself was as transient as a phantas- 
 magorian show. There was the struggle — the 
 closing of those two men in the deadly strife — and 
 then, O horror ! one was seen reeling back over 
 the edge of the yawning abysm ! And through 
 the dusky air— through the gloom of that October 
 evening— came the appalling cry of murder borne 
 upon the eastern wind 1 It was the Count him- 
 self who had thus been hurled over the precipice; 
 and his last rending agonizing cry mingled in that 
 eastern gale with the wild shrieks that rang from 
 the lips of Beatrice and myself. 
 
 The Countess sank upon her knees — now shriek- 
 ing no longer, but murmuring, " My God ! my 
 God !" in accents of indescribable horror. As for 
 myself, a dizziness seized upon my brain — a dim- 
 ness came over my vision— it quickly deepened 
 into utter darkness : I felt as if stricken blind. 
 My reason was reeling on its throne. Some mi- 
 nutes must have elapsed before I began to recover 
 from these awful sensations and influences ; and 
 then, as the darkness passed away from my vision, 
 as though a veil of thickest crape were withdrawn 
 from before my eyes, I flung my looks around to 
 see if I could anywhere discern the assassin. But 
 no ! — he was not to be seen. All objects which I 
 behold were stationary : there was no appearance 
 of the murderer fleeing in terror through the con- 
 genial gloom of the evening. 
 
 " Beatrice," I exclaimed, in almost frenzied ac- 
 ceats, and my whole frame quivering with a con. 
 vulsing horror, " this is terrible ! This is appall- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Oh, then it is indeed a frightful reality ! is it 
 not a dream ?" — and B2atrice started up to her 
 feet, as if suddenly galvanized. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! it is all too real !" I said ; " and 
 wo have been the spectators of a most awful tra- 
 gedy !" 
 
 "Awful ! awful !" murmured Beatrice, who now 
 seemed as if she were on the point of relapsing 
 into a dream like state of consternation once 
 more. 
 
 " Arouse yourself, my dear friend !" I said, as 
 my own self-possession was returning, "Wo must 
 give the alarm ! — a tremendous crioie has been 
 committed in our view " 
 
 " And my wretched husband ha* met hi4 
 death !" cried Beatrice : then, hor voico suddenly 
 sinking into an awe-felt solemnity of tone, she 
 added, " May God have mercy upon his soul !" 
 
 "Amen!" I said with equal solemnity: nnd 
 then there was a deep silence for a few m)njcuts 
 — though in my ears still seemed to ring the last 
 agonizing cries of the murdered Italian nuble. 
 
 "And who, think you, was his assnssin ?" asked 
 Beatrice, at length breaking silence. 
 
 " Heaven alone knows !" 1 shudderingly ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " But it may be permitted to an earthly being 
 to form a conjecture," said Beatrice solemnly : 
 then, after a few moments' pause, she added.
 
 318 
 
 ELLEN PERCY; OH, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEESS. 
 
 " Eest aeaured, Ellen, that the murderer of my 
 husband is— Luigi !" 
 
 "Ah!" I exclaimed, as the conviction that 
 Beatrice bad rightly surmised, fastened itself upon 
 tay mind. 
 
 "Yes!" continued the Countess: "the wretch 
 who was so horribly vindictive towards myself, 
 would be equally vindictive toivards the master 
 whom he had been the means of plunging into 
 the most appalling crimes I There is but one 
 man on the face of the earth who could have thus 
 as a bloodhound tracked the wretched Count of 
 Carboni unto bis death ■ ' and that man is 
 Luigi !" 
 
 " Yes— doubtless it is Luigi! But come, Bea- 
 trice—come!" I exclaimed: "let us speed away 
 from this spot where the very wind itself seems 
 laden with murder's agonizing cries!" 
 
 We hurried along towards a path leading into 
 ttve entrance of Dover: but during the few minutes 
 occupied by our walk— or rather run thither— we 
 were both frightened lest we should suddenly en- 
 counter the assassin whom we believed to be none 
 other than Luigi. The darkness deepened — the 
 wind blew with greater strength; and its voice 
 seemed to the ears of us both to be laden with 
 wild and mournful accents. But language has no 
 power to describe all that we both felt on this 
 dreadful evening ; for what the feelings of Beatrice 
 were I could not only judge from the frequent 
 ejaculations to which her lips gave utterance, but 
 when on a subsequent occasion we were enabled 
 with greater calmness to discourse on the details 
 of the tragedy, she explained to me the nature of 
 all the terrors that had haunted her. 
 
 The entrance of Dover was soon reached ; and 
 we stopped short for a few moments to deliberate 
 upon the course which we should adopt, — when we 
 beheld two sailors approaching. We at once ac- 
 costed them, and in a hurried and excited manner 
 informed them that we had seen a man hurled off 
 the top of the cliff by another. The sailors ex- 
 pressed their willingness to speed to the spot 
 where the unfortunate victim of the crime would 
 no doubt be found : but they assured us that there 
 was not the slightest chance of finding him alive. 
 They recommended that we should lose no time in 
 communicating the horrible transaction to the 
 authorities, so that measures might be adopted for 
 the discovery and capture of the assassin, if pos- 
 sible. We mentioned our names to the sailors, 
 and likewise the address where we were to be 
 found ; and they sped away in the direction of the 
 beach beneath the cliffs. 
 
 After a short consultation with Beatrice, we de- 
 termined to hasten back to the hotel and inform 
 the landlord of what we had seen, so that he might 
 put us in the way of making the requisite com- 
 munication to the authorities. Beatrice asked me 
 if I thought it was necessary for her to state that 
 she knew who the victim was and proclaim him 
 to be her husband ? I assured her that it was 
 absolutely necessary, and that she must moreover 
 state that she had journeyed from the metropolis 
 in order to have an interview with the Count— for 
 that we must explain the circumstance of our pre- 
 sence in the vicinage of the scene of crime at that 
 hour. 
 
 We reached the hotel, where our pale faces and 
 excited looks at once showed the waiters whom we 
 
 met in the hall and on the staircase that some- 
 thing terrible had occuwed. We desired that tho 
 landlord of the establishment might at once be 
 sent to us ; and scarcely had we reached our sit- 
 ting room, when he made his appearance. Oar 
 tale was soon told; for we did not deem it neces- 
 sary to enter into minute explanations with him : 
 but he was horrified at the intelligence which fell 
 upon his ears, and be expressed the utmost sym- 
 pathy on our account as the witnesses of the 
 hideous tragedy. The Mayor of the town resided 
 at no great distance from the hotel ; and the land- 
 lord offered to conduct us to that official's abode. 
 But I saw that the Countess of Carboni was so 
 much overcome and exhausted by the terrific ex- 
 citement through which she had passed, that she 
 was not equal to a task which would only tend to 
 agitate her feelings anew. I therefore volunteered 
 to proceed alone, or rather in the landlord's com- 
 pany, to the residence of the Mayor ; and Beatrice 
 gratefully accepted the offer. I saw likewise that 
 it was all the more advisable I should take this 
 duty entirely on myself, because it would be ne- 
 cessary to give certain explanations to the Mayor 
 in respect to the murdered Count ; and the feel- 
 ings of Beatrice would be spared by her remaining 
 at the hotel. 
 
 I set out with the landlord; and in a few 
 minutes we reached the Mayor's residence. That 
 functionary was at home ; and he at once received 
 us. He was an elderly gentleman — very polite 
 and affable in his manners — and still more cour- 
 teous to me when he learnt from the landlord that 
 I was Miss Trafford the tragedian. I soon entered 
 upon the painful nature of the business which had 
 brought me thither : the Mayor was shocked and 
 horrified; and he asked me whether I could give 
 such a description of the assassin as might lead to 
 his arrest ? 
 
 " It is necessary that I should afford your wor- 
 ship certain particulars," I answered. "I have 
 already told you that I have positive reason for 
 knowing that the victim of this crime is an Italian 
 nobleman, the Count of Carboni. The lady who 
 was with me, is the Countess of Carboni — the 
 wife, or rather the widow of the deceased. With- 
 out entering into any family matters of a private 
 oharncter, I may simply remark that the Count 
 and Countess have for some while dwelt separately, 
 — though in justice to her ladyship I must add 
 that her own character and conduct are unim- 
 peachable. A very short time back the Count, 
 under a feigned name, took that picturesque little 
 cottage on the Canterbury Eoad, which is at no 
 great distance from Eiver House " 
 
 " I know the cottage well," observed the Mayor : 
 " it is where a lady of the name of Glentworth re- 
 cently died very suddenly ?" 
 
 " The same," I answered. " I must now pro- 
 ceed to inform your worship that the Count of 
 Carboni wrote to his wife in London, requesting a 
 last interview, if only for a few minutes. The 
 Countess complied with the summons ; and I as 
 her friend accompanied her. We proceeded to the 
 cottage— his lordship was not at home: we learnt 
 from the gardener that he had gone to walk upon 
 the cliffs— and we repaired thither ; for the Coun- 
 tess was most anxious to learn for what reason her 
 husband desired the interview. We reached the 
 ascent of the cliffs in time to behold the appalling
 
 £LLEK F£SCY; OS, THE MEM0IB8 OP AM ACTBESS. 
 
 31J 
 
 tragedy. But now in reference to the murderer. 
 Neither the Countess nor myself beheld him with 
 sufBcient distinctness to enable us to swear to bis 
 identity : at the same time we have a suspicion— 
 though hearen knows it may possibly be most un- 
 founded " 
 
 " Tell me your reasons for this suspicion, Miss 
 Trafford," said the Mayor. 
 
 " At one time the Count of Carboni had a valet 
 named Luigi. That this Luigi was of unpria. 
 cipled character and vindictive disposition, we 
 know full well. His misdeeds caused him about 
 eight months back to flee from the service of his 
 master " 
 
 " Describe this man," said the Mayor. 
 
 I accordingly drew the most accurate portraiture 
 of Luigi which words could represent ; and the 
 Mayor said that he would at once issue the neces. 
 sary instructions for the arrest of the person cor< 
 responding with that description, if he should be 
 found within the town or its neighbourhood. He 
 accordingly left the room for a few minutes ; and 
 on his return, he said, " I have given my orders 
 to the bead constable, who happened to be in my 
 house when you arrived. But both he and I 
 agree that it would be better for the ends of 
 justice to suffer nothing to ooze forth to the pub- 
 lic in respect to the individual on whom suspicion 
 fastens itself. The next step for you. Miss Traf- 
 ford, to take— or it would be better for your friend 
 the Countess of Carboni to perform this painful 
 duty — is to identify the corpse of the murdered 
 man ; because as you only beheld him from a dis- 
 tance, and through the gloom of the evening, there 
 is the possibility of an error in reference to this 
 victim of a foul crime." 
 
 " I will communicate to the Countess your 
 worship's desire," I said ; and I was rising to 
 take my departure. 
 
 "One moment. Miss Trafford !" said the Mayor: 
 " there is yet something else to be done. Let us 
 suppose the identilicatiou to be accomplished, and 
 the fact to be established that it is actually the 
 Count of Carboni who has perished thus horribly. 
 It will then be necessary for me to send a trust- 
 worthy person to the cottage " 
 
 "Ah!" I ejaculated; "and if there be any 
 private papers belonging to the unfortunate 
 Count — papers which may relate to family mat- 
 ters " 
 
 " The Countess shall at once have possession of 
 them," replied the Mayor. "But all these steps 
 must be taken this evening — it were useless for 
 any delay to arise." 
 
 I thanked the Mayor for his courtesy and at- 
 tention ; and I took my departure with the land- 
 lord. I returned to the hotel, where I found 
 Beatrice in a better frame of mind than when I 
 had left her. She was now calmer and more com- 
 posed ; and I explained to her everything which 
 had taken place between the Mayor and myself. 
 She expressed her deep gratitude for the delicate 
 manner in which I had glossed over those painful 
 family incidents to which it had been necessary to 
 make some slight allusion : but she shrank sbud- 
 deringly from the idea of gazing upon the corpse 
 in order to identify it. I however represented 
 that this was really a duty which she herself must 
 perform, and which could not be so well accom- 
 plished by any other person ; for that it was most 
 
 natural for a wife, in such painful circumstances, 
 to identify the remains of a husband. 
 
 "Besides, my dear Beatrice," I gently added, 
 " if you were to refuse to throw one last look upoa 
 the Count's remains, it would almost seem as if 
 you cherished a vindictive resentment which fol- 
 lowed him even beyond the line which separates 
 life from death !" 
 
 Beatrice yielded to my representations ; and in 
 a few minutes the landlord again entered tho 
 room. He came this time to inform us that one 
 of the sailors to whom we had spoken, bad just 
 called to state that he and his comrade had picked 
 up the body on the beach at the foot of the cliff, 
 and that it had been taken to a little public-bouse 
 at that extremity of Dover which was nearest to 
 the scene of the tragedy. I saw that a sickening 
 sensation seized upon the Countess; but I be- 
 sought her to nerve herself with the fortitude re- 
 quisite for the accomplishment of the task which 
 she had now to perform; — and she summoned all 
 her courage to her aid. The landlord suggested 
 that the Countess might proceed in a chaise to the 
 public-house where the corpse lay ; and this pro- 
 posal was at once accepted. I offered to aocom- 
 i pany Beatrice to her mournful destination ; and 
 again did she pour forth her gratitude for the 
 kindness I was demonstrating towards her. 
 
 The chaise was soon in readiness— we entered 
 it — and it drove rapidly through the streets, 
 where, by the aid of the gas-lamps, we beheld 
 many persons conversing together in groups ; so 
 that it was evident the report of the murder had 
 already spread like wildfire throughout the town. 
 When we reached the neighbourhood of the pub- 
 lic-house, we found a considerable crowd collected 
 about the door; for though the corpse was 
 stretched in a room and therefore hidden froox 
 their view, yet were they under the influence of 
 that morbid curiosity which always impels persons, 
 particularly of the uneducated class, to assemblo 
 and gaze upon the spot where a crime has been 
 committed, or upon the bouse where its victim ia 
 lying. The moment the chaise stopped, the at- 
 tention of the crowd was concentrated upon it to 
 see who would alight : but a couple of police-con- 
 stables quickly compelled the assemblage to fall 
 back sufficiently to enable the chaise to draw 
 up close to the door of the little public-house. 
 Beatrice then alighted, and hastened into the 
 place ; while I remained inside the vehicle, where 
 I lay back as much as possible to avoid being the 
 object of the gaze of the curious crowd. 
 
 I may here give in a narrative form the brief 
 details of the Countess of Carboni's visit to tho 
 public-house, instead of recording them in the 
 same terms as she subsequently explained them to 
 me. On crossing the threshold, she was seized 
 with a faintness and dizziness as if consciousness 
 were about to abandon her, and her limbs felt as 
 if they were bending beneath her : but she again 
 summoned all her fortitude to her aid, and men- 
 tioned her object to the stout burly landlord of tho 
 little public-house. It was an establishment of 
 the most inferior description; so that its dingy 
 gloomy aspect was but little calculated to diminish 
 the painful impressions under which the mind of 
 Beatrice was already labouring. The landlord led 
 the way along a narrow passage to a place which 
 from Beatrice's description must have been the
 
 350 
 
 ELLEN FKUCT; OB, IBB UEMOIBS OF AH i.CIRE39. 
 
 taproom : the tveo sailors who had picked up the 
 body, followed the Countess and landlord thither ; 
 and the moment the door was thrown open, an 
 ominous object was discerned upon the table. A 
 lantern dimly lighted the room, — which was of 
 small dimensions, as well as of poor and sordid de- 
 scription. The corpse was covered by an old cloth 
 which had been thrown over it ; and as one of the 
 sailors lifted that cloth, he at the same time raised 
 the lantern in such a manner that the dim flicker- 
 ing light was thrown upon the countenance of the 
 murdered man. That countenance was little in- 
 jured by the fall from the cliff; but it subsequently 
 transpired, from the surgical evidence given at the 
 inquest, that the body and limbs were horribly 
 mutilated and injured. One glance for Beatrice 
 was sufficient!— she recognised her husband — it 
 was indeed the Count of Carboni who had perished 
 the victim of that horrible deed of assassination ! 
 
 Beatrice turned away shuddering from the 
 hideous spectacle ; and she came back to the 
 chaise in which I was waiting for her. The two 
 sailors were close at her heels ; for under the pre- 
 tence of conducting her to the vehicle, they evi- 
 dently sought to remind us that they were the 
 individuals who bad performed our bidding and 
 Lad picked up the corpse. Beatrice was too much 
 overcome by her harrowed feelings to compre- 
 hend their meaning : but I hastened to make 
 them a present of five guineas— and the chaise 
 drove off. As it passed by the Mayor's residence, 
 I directed the driver to stop, that I might leave a 
 message to inform his worship that the corpse had 
 been identified ; and we then proceeded to the 
 hotel. It was now late ; and thoroughly ex- 
 hausted both in mind and body, Beatrice at once 
 sought her couch. I remained with her until 
 slumber stole upon her eyes ; and then I repaired 
 to my own chamber. 
 
 We both rose at an early hour in the morning ; 
 and we were seated at the breakfast-table, discuss- 
 ing with a lingering sense of horror the incidents 
 of the preceding evening, when a waiter entered 
 and delivered a sealed packet to the Countess, ac- 
 companied by the intimation that the Mayor had 
 sent it with his respectful compliments. Beatrice 
 hastened to opeii the packet the instant the waiter 
 had withdrawn ; and she found that it contained 
 several private papers belonging to the deceased 
 Count, but amongst which was a sealed letter ad- 
 dressed to herself. This address was in the hand- 
 writing of her husband ; and when she had 
 perused the document which it contained, she 
 handed it to me. As nearly as I can now recol- 
 lect, the contents ran in the following strain : — 
 
 " The events which have separated us for ever, 
 Beatrice, sit so heavily upon my heart, that they 
 seem to be crushing out the powers of life and 
 rapidly arresting the vital springs of existence. I 
 may die suddenly by the breaking of this heart of 
 mine— or I may perish in the blood of a distracted 
 suicide. I therefore writa t'lese few lines, to be 
 delivered to you after my death, whensoever and 
 howsoever it may happen. There are moments 
 when I feel as if I must take up my pen to write 
 and implore that wei may meet once again in this 
 world, so that I may hear from your lips the repe- 
 tition of that assurance of forgiveness which in the 
 month of March last you vouchsafed when I sank 
 
 upon my knees before you and besought your 
 pardon. But whether I shall ever have the 
 courage to beseech this interview — or whether if I 
 implored it, you would grant it, I know not 1 
 Therefore, at all events, I pen these lines, so as to 
 assure myself that I shall not depart from this 
 world without having renewed the expression of 
 that deep affliction- that illimitable despair which 
 I feel on account of all my horrible and diabolic 
 conduct towards you ! 
 
 "I have now something to tell you, Beatrice. 
 You know that when I resigned to you the great 
 bulk of my fortune and estates seven or eight 
 months back, I made an exception in reference to 
 the domain and chateau of Carboni. In decreeing 
 this reservation I had more motives than one, la 
 the first place I conceived that it would be not 
 merely a flagrant insult, but a transcending out- 
 rage, to oft'er you that mansion which was the 
 scene of my odious cruelty and of your ineffable 
 wretchedness. In the second place I looked upon 
 the spot as one that was accursed — a spot as com- 
 pletely under heaven's ban, as if it were the scene 
 where gibbets are erected for the bleaching bones 
 of murderers to swing and rattle in the cold night 
 wind. And in the third place I was anxious that 
 this spot whereof I am speaking should become 
 the scene of an action whereby I might testify 
 more than I had yet done the loathing sense that 
 I entertain of my past iniquity. Listen therefore 
 to the deed which I have accomplished for the 
 furtherance of this aim. Upon parting from you 
 after I had knelt at your feet and implored your 
 forgiveness, I gave to a solicitor the requisite in- 
 structions for the assignment of the great bulk of 
 my property into your hands ; and I then set out 
 for Italy. I proceeded to the chateau of Carboni: 
 I discharged the domestics who were there— I paid 
 them all liberally — and I watched until the last 
 had left that mansion which I held to be accursed. 
 It was the hour of sunset when I found myself 
 alone there— sunset on an April evening, with the 
 fresh breeze whispering around me, and wafting 
 the perfume of the flowers that were folding their 
 leaves ! Then I piled up quantities of dry wood 
 in various places — I opened many of the doors and 
 windows within the chateau to create a draught — 
 and I set fire to the home of my ancestors. It 
 was not with a fiendish rage nor with a malignant 
 gloating that I did this: it was with a profound 
 remorseful sense of the stupendous crimes which 
 had led me to the accomplishment of such a cat.is- 
 trophe. From a little distance I watched the 
 conflagration. The farmers and peasants on the 
 domain — the gardeners, the park-keepers, and the 
 foresters — all hurried to the spot to proffer their 
 assistance : but I sternly bade them leave the cha- 
 teau to burn, for it was accursed ! They gazed 
 upon me with astonishment— they thought that I 
 was mad : but I cared not. The mansion ap- 
 peared to my view to be a temple of infamy — the 
 monument of a horrible crime; and I resolved 
 that its destruction should be complete. So I 
 allowed not a single hand to be stretched forth to 
 prevent the spread of the conflagration : but as 
 the flames roared and the beams cracked— as all 
 the splendid furniture was lapped up as it were by 
 those lambent tongues of flame — I rejoiced ; for I 
 said within myself, 'It is like the work of a just 
 retribution !'
 
 " The entire chateau was destroyed. But not 
 contented with having accomplished this much, 
 I ordered the blackenea remnants to be removed 
 elsewhere, the verj foundatiuns to be dug up, and 
 every brick and stone to he carried oiF. I likei^ise 
 ordered the neighbouring grovo to be cut down — 
 the walls of the gardens to be destroyed — the 
 fences of the park and pleasure-grouuds to be 
 broken up and burnt. Then 1 commanded the 
 peasants to come with their teams and tLeir 
 ploughs, 80 that everj trace of where a mansion 
 once stood should be obliterated. And I tarried 
 in that neighbourhood while the work was being 
 done: with my own eyes did I assure myself that 
 it was effectually accomplished — until at length as 
 I stood in the midst of that spot which I had made 
 a desolation and a waste, I ielt as if I had done a 
 deed which was calculated to tranquiliise to some 
 little extent a most uneasy conscience. Then I 
 went to a notary ; and I ordered him to draw up 
 a deed by virtue of which I bequeathed the chief 
 portion of the domain of Carboni to the Convent 
 of St. Catarina, to be held as an endowment for 
 the dwelling of the Holy Sisters on condition that 
 the three hundred acres of land which had just 
 been ploughed up, should for ever be left uncul- 
 tivated, to remain a desolation and a waste, or to 
 become a wilderness. All this have I done, Bea- 
 trice ! The chateau of Carboni has ceased to exist ; 
 and the traveller who may now roam through that 
 domain, will not so much as tread upon a single 
 stone belonging to that once stately pile. 
 
 " Oh ! would that I had the courage to seek 
 jou, if only for a few moments, that I might tell 
 you by words uttered from the lip, how I went 
 step by step through all the details which 1 have 
 been describing on this paper ! I feel that I could 
 impart to a verbal description an energy and a 
 power which into the mere written language it is 
 impossible to infuse. But I dare not present mj- 
 self before you at the home of your sister and 
 brother-in-law ; and therefore if aoxtte day, obedient 
 to a sudden impulse, I shall resolve upon making 
 the endeavour to see you, it must be by mean ^ of an 
 earnest entreaty that you will come to me, if only 
 for a few minutes. For I am now in (bis seeluded 
 cottage 
 
 " Yet how foolish and absurd for me to con- 
 tinue thus, as if what I am now committing to 
 paper were to be read by you to-day or to-morrow' 
 and as if it were not intended that this document 
 is to be read by you only after my death ! Ob, 
 Beatrice ! there are times when I feel as if I were 
 going mad ! — times when toy brain is aching and 
 throbbing as if it were about to burst, in awful 
 companionship with that heart which seems ready 
 to burst likewise! 
 
 " Oh ! may you be happy ! — may Leaven in its 
 mercy mitigate the keen sense of the wrongs you 
 have experienced and the sufferings you have en- 
 dured ! You are still young— still beautiful; and 
 you possess great riches. I shall not be much 
 longer in this world. To think of living years 
 were madness ! — a few months or weeks, or per- 
 haps days, will terminate my existence. Then, 
 Beatrice, think how you may re-enter upon the 
 path of happiness— study to turn your steps into 
 some route that is bordered with flowers— and let 
 not the recollection of the past embitter the pre- 
 sent or the future. If one so criminal as I, dared 
 
 to brearhe blessings, I would bless thee ; —and in 
 my heart 1 do so, though I dare not to this piper 
 commit those solemn and sacred invocations. Yet 
 believe me, Baatrice, when I shall have gone hence 
 — when I shall have passed from the limits of an 
 earthl0 sphere to the illimitable range of a celes- 
 tial one, — if there, in those regions which lie 
 beyond the grave, my spirit shall be purified and 
 my soul lifted into the mansions of the Eternal, I 
 will become to thee in another world your good 
 genius,— I who have been youf evil one in this!" 
 
 Thus terminated the strange wild document, to 
 which neither address nor date nor name was af- 
 fixed. But I felt assured that it bad not been 
 written many days ; for only three weeks had 
 elapsed since the unfortunate Count of Carboni 
 took up his abode at the cottage ; and at that 
 cottage the paper was evidently written. 1 men- 
 tioned this fact to Beatrice, who had remained 
 plunged in profound and mournful thought while 
 I was perusing the document ;, and she said in a 
 low tremulous voice, '•' You see, my dear Ellen, 
 that his heart was yearning to obtain a last inter- 
 view with me; and would to G-jd that we had 
 met ! —for if he had spoken as passionately and as 
 feelingly as he has there written, I should have 
 proclaimed my forgiveness with far more fervour 
 and sincerity than I promised it on the occasion 
 when you brought him to kneel at my feet in 
 London 1" 
 
 " And now, Beatrice," I said, " 1 must remind 
 you of a duty which you have to perform. The 
 corpse will remain where it now lies, until after 
 the Coroner shall have holden his inquest — which 
 will doubtless be in the course of this day " 
 
 " I understand you, Ellen," interrupted the 
 Countess of Carboni : " it is for me to superintend 
 the obsequies of the deceased. Y'es- 1 will do so ! 
 But now let us at once despatch a courier to my 
 sister and her husband, to tell them all that has 
 occurred. And I will enclose this document ; for 
 after the perusal of it, the Marquis of Campanella 
 may not perhaps be disinclined to pay the last sad 
 office to the deceased and accompany his remains 
 to the tomb." 
 
 The courier was despatched accordingly ; and 
 scarcely was this duty accomplished, when the 
 Mavor of Dover was announced. 
 
 CHAPIEE LXI. 
 
 THE PISB-HEAB. 
 
 Thb Mayor came to inform ufl that not the 
 slightest trace had been obtained of Luigi ; nor 
 Could it be ascertained that any person at all an- 
 swering to his description had been in Dover. A 
 clever officer had visited all the hotels, public- 
 houses, and lodging-houses, for the purpose of in- 
 stituting inquiries: but nothing could be learnt of 
 the supposed assassin. The Mayor had seen the 
 Coroner, who intended to hold the inquest at two 
 o'clock in the afternoon of that same day ; and his 
 worship signified to us that our presence as wit- 
 nesses would be required. For this announcement 
 we were fully prepared ; and we promised to at- 
 tend accordingly. 
 
 When the Mayor had taken his departure— it
 
 being now about eleven in the forenoon — Beatrice 
 intimated her intention of retiring to her own 
 chamber for an hour or two, that ehe might be 
 alone with her thoughts, and that she might have 
 suitable leisure to compose and collect herself for 
 the ordeal of an examination at the inquea^. She 
 retired accordingly ; and I was now the mistress of 
 my own time for two or three hours. Much as I 
 disliked the idea of attending to any matter of 
 business as an interlude amidst the sad circum- 
 stances which had arisen, I nevertheless remem- 
 bered the necessity of keeping Mary Glentworth's 
 interests in view ; and I could not delay the mea- 
 sure which had brought me to Dover. My time 
 there was short— and the Duke of Ardleigh might 
 possibly leave more speedily than be had antici- 
 cipated when he wrote to me, for I felt assured 
 that be was completely subservient to the good- 
 will and pleasure of his haughty Duchess. 
 
 In that note which his Grace bad written to 
 me, he had intimated his intention of walking 
 every day at the end of the pier from eleven till 
 one o'clock, so that on arriving at Dover I might 
 know how and where to find him. I was confi- 
 dent that be would be upon the pier on this parti- 
 cular day ; for rumour could not have failed to waft 
 to his ears the intelligence of the murder of the 
 Count of Carboni and the fact that I had been a 
 witness of the scene — consequently that I was in 
 Dover. I now dressed myself very plainly, put 
 on s thick veil, and issued from the hotel. I was 
 Boon upon the pier ; and at the end of it I beheld 
 the Duke of Ardleigb, looking through a spy- glass, 
 which a sailor who was standing by had lent him. 
 It fortunately happened that no other persons, 
 beyond another lounging sailor or two, were on 
 the pier-head at the time ; and I prepared to ac- 
 cost bis Grace. 
 
 " Well, my good man," he was saying at the 
 mament, " you tell me it is only three-and-twenty 
 miles across from Dover to Calais : but I insist 
 that it is thirty. I know something of those 
 matters, I flatter myself ; for I have an uncle who 
 is one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and a cousin 
 who is a Post Captain. Besides, Feaseblossom 
 
 ——that is the name of a friend of mine has 
 
 a brother who is lieutenant of a coast-guard 
 
 station 1 procured him the appointment 
 
 and one of her Grace's lady's-maids is going to be 
 married to the mate of an East Indiaman. So 
 you see, my good fellow, I cannot be quite so 
 ignorant of nautical matters as you seem to sup- 
 pose Ah ! is it possible ? Yes, it must be ! 
 
 Miss Trafford, how do you do ? " 
 
 The old weather-beaten sailor gave a grunt and 
 j shrugged his shoulders at the jargon which the 
 Duke of Ardleigh had been addressing to him : 
 but the high rank of this personage was evidently 
 unknown to the man ; for as he turned towards 
 another ancient mariner even more weatherbeaten 
 than himself, I overheard him say, " What d'ye 
 think, Jack ? that queer-looking little man tells 
 me as how I don't know bow far it be across to 
 Calais harbour !" 
 
 The Duke himself did not however catch this 
 observation so little flattering to himself; for ha 
 was all in a nervous hurry to learn what I had to 
 say to him. 
 
 "Come here. Miss Trafford!" he said; "pray 
 come here ! We can look over the pier and pre- 
 
 tend to be watching those sea-weeds, while we 
 
 converse; and there is no fear of interruption 
 
 for I have set Peaseblossom to watch — and if the 
 Duchess should take it into her head to walk out 
 and come this way, he will rush off and let us 
 
 know unless indeed he falls asleep or gets 
 
 playing on one of my violins." 
 
 " And if the Duchess should come this way, my 
 lord," I said coldly, " it will perhaps be all the 
 better ; for as her Grace is acquainted with the 
 secret of your poor daughter's birth, she might 
 well be admitted into our conference." 
 
 "A pretty thing indeed," exclaimed the Duke, 
 gazing around him in consternation, " after she 
 has insisted that I should never allude to the girl 
 in her hearing, and that Mary shall never know 
 her real parentage ! Ah, her Grace led me a ter- 
 rible time of it, I can tell you, after that scene at 
 the cottage " 
 
 "But Mary must know her parentage, my 
 lord !" I interjected : " the secret cannot be con- 
 cealed from her ! She saw your Grace the other 
 day in London " 
 
 " But now we are going on the Continent for 
 the winter — I shall be several months absent — the 
 secret can be kept during that time — and a thou- 
 sand things may turn up ! The Duchess might 
 die — and then I shall be my own master : she may 
 be killed by banditti, or carried ofif by the malaria 
 of the marshes near Rome. Or Mary herself may 
 die " 
 
 " Good heavens, my lord !" I exclaimed, shocked 
 and disgusted at the ideas to which he was giving 
 utterance, as well as irritated by the frivolity 
 which marked the whole tenour of his discourse; 
 " you speculate upon the deaths of your wife and 
 your daughter !" 
 
 " And why not ?" demanded the Duke : " they 
 are mortal— are they not? Why, if it wern't for 
 such speculations, how should we ever have had 
 tontines, or life-insurance companies, or post-obit 
 bonds, or many of the other blessings of civiliza- 
 tion ? Speculate indeed ! Why I am very for- 
 tunate in speculation — particularly when it is at a 
 round game at cards " 
 
 "My lord," I said severely and resolutely, "I 
 am not here to listen to these triflings. My mind 
 is not in a state " 
 
 " No— to be sure ! I forgot !" ejaculated the 
 Duke, flying ofi^ at a tangent to another subject. 
 " You saw it all ? Tell me what it looked like. 
 I never saw but one murder — and that was on the 
 stage— so it was really no murder at all." 
 
 " My lord," I said, again speaking with severity, 
 " I beg that you will at once return to the busi- 
 ness for which I have consented to meet you here. 
 And I beg your Grace to observe that nothing but 
 the deep interest which I experience in your 
 amiable and innocent daughter Mary Glentworth, 
 could have induced me to take such a step." 
 
 '• Weil, it is indeed very kind of you," said the 
 Duke : " but really I am at a loss what to do. 
 You literally push me into a corner ! I wish 
 Peaseblossom was here !" 
 
 " Now listen, my lord," I said, determined to 
 bring the nobleman to the point. " Mary knows 
 you only by the name of Mr. Glentworth — and 
 she looks upon you as her uncle. She naturally 
 believes that it is her duty to call upon you : she 
 is anxious to discover your addr^s ; and since sht
 
 ELLEN PEECX; OK, THE MEMOIES OJ AN ''ACXEBSS. 
 
 353 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF ARDLEIGH. 
 
 has seen you in your carriage, she is rejoiced be- 
 cause she knows you to be very rich. If you will 
 not suffer the secret of her birth to be revealed to 
 her " 
 
 " Ah ! we are lost ! we are undone !" suddenly 
 exclaimed the Duke. " That precious old owl 
 Peaseblossom must have fallen asleep — for here is 
 the Duchess !" 
 
 And sure enough, there was the Duchess of 
 Ardleigh, accompanied by a little daughter — a girl 
 of about eleven years old — and followed at a short 
 distance by the governess, who had charge of two 
 of their Graces' children, who were still younger 
 than the one walking with the mother. 
 No. 45.— Ellen Pekct. 
 
 Those who are acquainted with the pier-head at 
 Dover, are aware that in the middle of the plat* 
 form stands a little circular house, made of wood, 
 about a dozen feet in diameter, and surmounted 
 by a signal-post. The instant the Duke had given 
 vent to those ejaculations, he rushed towards this 
 little house so as to place it betwixt himself and 
 the Duchess ; and in proportion as her Grace ad- 
 vanced nearer and nearer towards the extremity 
 of the pier, the Duke kept working his way round 
 the house so as constantly to make it a shield be- 
 tween himself and his wife. If I had not been 
 low-spirited and harassed by the teriiQc ciircum- 
 stances of the preceding evening, as well as dis-
 
 354 
 
 ELLBN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTBESS, 
 
 tressed on Mary Glentworth's account, and like- 
 wise annoyed at the mingled heartlessness and 
 frivolity which the Duke had displayed, I could 
 have laughed at the ludicrousness of this scene. 
 I remained where I was, leaning against the para- 
 pet of the pier, precisely on the spot where the 
 Duke had left me ; I did not take the trouble to 
 utter a syllable of remonstrance at the absurd 
 •course which he was adopting — for toy mind was 
 now fully made up how to act. 
 
 The Duchess was speedily withiii a few yards 
 of me : I at once saw by her looks that she had 
 noticed her husband, and that she was of course 
 smitten with a jealous suspicion on finding that he 
 had been talking with a lady from whom he had 
 suddenly run away as if with an air of guilty con- 
 sciousness. My veil was closely folded over my 
 countenance, so that the Duchess of Ardleigh 
 could not immediately recognise me : but I drew 
 it up — saluted her with a mingled courtesy and 
 respect— and said, " His Grace has only this in- 
 stant left me." 
 
 The Duchess looked astonished, and evidently 
 knew not what to think or what to say. But 
 suddenly, without giving utterance to a word, she 
 passed behind the little house; and then I heard 
 her voice exclaiming, " My lord, be so kind as to 
 come hither— I wish to speak to you." 
 
 The Duchess then returned towards the spot 
 where I remained standing ; and her little daugh- 
 ter exclaimed, " Mamma, why wos papa running 
 away ?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear, it was only your papa's joke," 
 replied the Duchess, evidently not choosing to 
 suffer her children or the governess to eupect that 
 there was anything amiss, 
 
 "Ah, iriydear! is that you?" said the Duke, 
 now coming forward from behind the little house, 
 and endeavouring to smile as it with cheerfulness. 
 " Well, I really did not see you ! Why, Miss 
 Trafford ! how do you do ?"— and he addressed me 
 as if we were just meeting for the first time on 
 the present occasiori. 
 
 " Go with Mademoiselle Durand, rhy dear," 
 said the Duchess, thus speaking to her little 
 daughter, and alludin* to the French governess : 
 then, so soon as Mademoiselle Durand and the 
 children were beyond ear- shot, her Grace looked at 
 me as-if to imply that she was awaiting explana- 
 tions. 
 
 " For my own sake, my lord," I said, " I am 
 compelled to take this step :"— and I handed the 
 Duchess the letter which the Duke had written to 
 me, and in which he besought me to come to 
 Dover to confer with him privately in respect to 
 Mary Glent worth. 
 
 The Duchess took the letter, and began to read 
 it. At the very moment I had placed it in her 
 hands, I glanced towards the Duke, — who had now 
 got just behind his wife, and who was making all 
 Borts of faces and contortions to prevent mo from 
 giving her Grace the document. But I immedi- 
 ately averted my looks, and waited with a calm 
 confideuce until the Duchess had finished its pe- 
 rusal. 
 
 " So Miss Glentworth is now residing with you 
 at Mr. Norman's house. Miss Trafford ?" said the 
 Duchess; and she spoke to me with as much afla- 
 bility as the natural hauteur of her disposition 
 would at any time allow her to adopt f for the 
 
 contents of the letter were sufficient to show the 
 reason for which the Duke and myself had met at 
 the end of the pier. 
 
 " I am distressed," I said, " to find myself com- 
 pelled to violate the sanctity of correspondence by 
 placing his lordship's letter in the hands of your 
 Grace : but for my own sake I had no alternative. 
 If I find myself dragged by circumstances into 
 these unpleasant affairs -" 
 
 "No one can blame you, Miss Trafford," inter- 
 jected the Duchess. "This letter proves every- 
 thing, and shows that you in the first instance 
 haa written to explain to the Duke how unplea- 
 santly he might some day find himself situated in 
 London if Mary Glentworth should meet him, and 
 regarding him as her uncle — plain Mr. Glentworth 
 — should address him as such." 
 
 "Your Grace can easily understand," I said, 
 " that Mary is anxious to visit one whom she be- 
 lieves to be her uncle———"- 
 
 "Yes— it is all intelligible enough!" exclaimed 
 the Duchess; "and you have a difficult part to 
 play. But I have sworn that if ever the secret of 
 my husband's grosS profligacy should transpire, I 
 will separate from hina. Such an exposure to the 
 'world would be terrible for our children's sake !" 
 
 " Of course it would, my dear," said the Duke, 
 rubbing his hands nervously : " and there- 
 fore " 
 
 "Silence, my lord!" ejaculated the Duchess: 
 then turning to me, she said, " ti it really your 
 wish, Miss Trafford, that the secret of Mary's 
 birth should be made known to her ?" 
 
 "Heaven forbid, my lady, if it be possible to 
 conceal it !" 1 at once answered. " Miss Glent- 
 worth is a good, artless, and innocent girl : she 
 believes that her mother was virliiotis — and it 
 would shock her infinitely if she were compelled 
 to look upon that patent as one who was a dis- 
 honoured woman. But still something must be 
 done to set her mind at rest, and to relieve me 
 from the embarrasstnent of listening to her ques- 
 tions and entreaties: for already she suspecfs that 
 there is something which is unknown to her, but 
 of which I have a full knowledge." 
 
 " For your sake. Miss Trafford," rejoined the 
 Duchess, " i could wish that something might be 
 done iii this matter : but I am bound utterly to 
 igiiore the existence of any such person as Mary 
 Glentworth :— and if I have now so far controlled 
 my feelings as to speak of her for a few minutes, 
 it has been through courtesy towards you. Now 
 let the subject drop ! The Duke must act as he 
 thinks fit in the matter : but I swear that if ever 
 his immoral amour with the late Mrs. Glentworth 
 transpires " 
 
 " Hold, my lady !" I interrupted her : " I be- 
 seech you not to leave me in this cruel embar- 
 rassment — which I feel all the more acutely on 
 account of that amiable girl, whom I shall know 
 not how to answer the nest time she questions 
 me relative to her supposed uncle !" 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Miss Trafford," responded 
 the Duchess, kindly but firmly. " I am all the 
 more sorry too," she continued, in a still gentler 
 voice, "because I know how much your feelings 
 must have been harrowed by the terrible incidents 
 of last night. But I have a duty to pertorm as a 
 wife and as a mother : I have my own pride to 
 consult In short, I have already been too for-
 
 ELLEN PEBCT; OK, THE JTETrlOIES OP AN ACTRESS, 
 
 355 
 
 beariog in the face of the discovery of my hus- 
 band's infidelity and wickedness. You will excuse 
 me. Miss TrafFord, for now wishing you good 
 morning. You will come with me, my lord." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Duchess bowed with 
 sufficient graciousness; and she was turning away, 
 followed by her miserable coward of a husband, 
 when a sudden thought struck mo 
 
 " One word, my lady I" I exclaimed, — " and 
 only one word ! Permit me to speak apart with 
 your Grace for a few moments." 
 
 "• Certainly," answered the Duchess : and 
 making a signal for her husband to stand aside, 
 she walked with me to a short distance. 
 
 " Your G-race may perhaps remember," I said, 
 " that about a twelvemonth back, when I had an 
 interview with you in respect to your son the 
 Marquis of Dalrymple, you were pleased to ex- 
 press yourself so satisfied with ray conduct that 
 you bade me at any future period appeal to your 
 friendship with the certainty of obtaining at your 
 bands whatsoever boon I might ask. You more- 
 over said that though it was unlikely I should 
 ever be in a position to make such an appeal, yet 
 that still the circumstanco might arise, and that 
 you should hold yourself bound to fulfil your 
 pledge." 
 
 " All that you have stated. Miss Trafibrd, is. 
 perfectly true," said the Duchess : " you have me 
 therefore to a certain extent in your power : but 
 I beseech you to use that power leniently." 
 
 "Your Grace knows what my request is," I an- 
 swered, " Let something be done to set Mary 
 Glcntworth'a mind at rest— I care not what— in- 
 deed I scarcely know what to suggest but 
 
 still something imist be done I" 
 
 " Can you not devise some excuse to curb her 
 impatience for a few months ?" asked the Duchess ; 
 " and on my return to England from the Conti- 
 nent, one of my first considerations shall be bow 
 this unpleasant afi'air may best be settled." 
 
 " I myself will devise no excuses," I responded. 
 " I would not give utterance to a falsehood for my 
 own sake ; and therefore it were unreasonable to 
 expect that I should become a deceiver for the 
 sake of ot-hers." 
 
 The Duchess bit her lip : her proud disposition 
 was eviiiently chafed bitterly by the answer I had 
 just addressed to her ; and I felt convinced there 
 was a moment when she was about to cut our in- 
 terview short in some haughty and indignant 
 manner. But curbing her resentment, she said, 
 " "Will you leave it to me, Miss TrafFord, to 
 manage this business?— and I pledge myself that 
 it shall be settled in such a vfay as to relieve you 
 from the importunities of Miss Glentwortb." 
 
 " And likewise in such a way," I added, " that 
 whatsoever step your ladyship takes, that poor 
 
 girl's feelings " 
 
 " Tliey shall not be wounded — much less out- 
 raged," interjected the Duchess. "Tlie course I 
 purpose to adopt is simply to set her mind nt rest 
 during the period that I shall be absent with my 
 family on the Continent; and when we return to 
 England, I will again give the subject my consi- 
 deration." 
 
 " "With this understanding I am satisfied," 1 
 answered. 
 
 The Duchess then again bowed and Uft me. 
 She was rejoined by her husband, who followed 
 
 her as if he were a schoolboy detected in the 
 midst of some mischief, and being led home by the 
 schoolmistress to receive the dreaded application 
 of the birch. 
 
 I remained for a little while longer at the end 
 of the pier, until the ducal party wf 3 no longer in 
 view ; and I then returned to my hotel, I can- 
 not say that I was completely satisfied with the 
 issue of my appeal on behalf of Mary Glentwortb, 
 — especially as I was more or less in the dark in 
 reference to the plan which the Duchess of Avd- 
 leigh had determined to pursue : but I was obliged 
 to console myself with the thought that I had 
 done as much as I could — that the affair was of a 
 very delicate nature— that there were the feelings 
 of more than one person to bo consulted in the 
 matter— and that therefore I could not expect to 
 wield the power of arbitrary dictation. 
 
 When I reached the hotel and ascended to the 
 sitting-room, I found that Beatrice was still in her 
 own chamber ; and as the hour was approaching at 
 which the Coroner's inquest was to be held, I was 
 about to proceed to her room and remind her 
 thereof, when she made her appearance. She was 
 now calm and collected, and evidently nerved for 
 the ordeal. The landlord had already ascertained 
 that the Coroner and jury were to sit at a 
 superior kind of tavern in the neighbourhood of 
 the little public-house where the corpse lay, — an 
 arrangement which was doubtless made at the 
 suggestion of the Mayor, and through deference to 
 the feeliuga of the Countess herself. We pro- 
 ceeded in a chaise to the tavern, where we were at 
 once conducted to a private room. Beatrice sus- 
 tained her fortitude ; and I likewise did my best 
 to conquer my repugnance to the idea of becoming 
 a witness in such a case. I was summoned first to 
 the apartment where the Coroner and jury satj 
 and I understood the delicacy of this proceeding. 
 It was another means of sparing the feelings of 
 the Countess as much as possible, by eliciting all 
 the main particulars from my lips, and thereby 
 rendering her examination as brief as it could be 
 made. I gave the Coroner precisely the same in- 
 formation which I had already given to the 
 Mayor j and I was particularly cautious in stating 
 the grounds upon which Beatrice and myself based 
 our suspicions in respect to Luigi. ' 
 
 " If any gentleman be present, taking notes for 
 the •ublic press," said the Coroner, "I beg to ob- 
 serve that the ends of justice may perhaps be 
 better served if the fact be altogether suppressed 
 that suspicion thus attaches itself to a particular 
 individual. If the assassin bo really this Italian 
 valfit of whom the witness has just spoken, he will 
 of course watch the newspapers ; and he will either 
 or not take care to hide himself just as he may 
 see how circumstances are progressing. A de- 
 scription of his person has already been privately 
 sent to the metropolis, whence it will be forwarded 
 to the heads of the local constabulary throughout 
 the country." 
 
 There was a reporter present j and he at ones 
 signified his readiness to comply with the sugges- 
 tions of the Curoner. My examination being 
 over, I withdrew from the apartment where the 
 inquisition was being held ; and returning to the 
 roum in which I had left Beatrice, I infornjed her 
 that her presence would merely be needed for the 
 corroboration of my evidence, and that eke might
 
 356 
 
 ELLEN PEECr; OE, THE ilEilOIES 03? AN ACIKESS. 
 
 depose to the identification of the deceased as her 
 husband. Her nerves were strengthened by this 
 assurance ; and she proceeded to the inquest -room. 
 There she was not detained many minutes,— the 
 Coroner and the jury considerately sparing her 
 feelings as much as possible. It was nevertheless 
 an infinite relief to her when the ordeal was past 
 and we returned together to our own hotel. The 
 jury returned a verdict of " Wilful Murder;" and 
 Beatrice sent for an undertaker, to whom she gave 
 full instructions in respect to the funeral. 
 
 I again left her at the hotel for two or three 
 hours, while I proceeded to call at Eiver House. 
 There I was most cordially welcomed by my friend 
 Juliet ; and her husband received me with an air 
 of friendly frankness, as if he felt that he could 
 now look me in the face with confidence as he 
 knew that he was performing his duty towards his 
 wife, and that Juliet herself would tell me the 
 same when we should be alone together. They 
 already knew that I must be at Dover from the 
 report which had reached their ears in reference 
 to the murder ; and therefore Juliet had been 
 anxiously expecting my presence. I gave them 
 the full particulars of the horrible occurrence ; and 
 both expressed much sympathy on account of the 
 agitation and excitement which I must have ex- 
 perienced. When I found myself alone with Lady 
 Frederick Eavenscliflfe, she assured me that her 
 husband continued to treat her with the utmost 
 kindness — that he manifested no impatience at the 
 secluded life they were leading — but on the con- 
 trary, that he appeared to prefer it. He had re- 
 ceived no answer from his parents, the Earl and 
 Countess of Carshalton, to the letter which he had 
 written informing them of his marriage ; and he 
 therefore supposed that it would be a work of time 
 to obtain their forgiveness for the step which he 
 had taken. Juliet further informed me that the 
 solicitor whom the late Mrs. Oldcastle had nomi- 
 nated joint executor with Mr. Norman, had gone 
 up to London on the preceding day, to put the 
 business in a train for prompt settlement, and that 
 therefore the various legacies would be almost im- 
 mediately paid. 
 
 Having passed about three hours at Eiver 
 House, I took leave of Lord and Lady Frederick 
 EavensclifFe, and returned to the hotel at Dover. 
 My engagements at the theatre required that I 
 should leave on the following day : but I could 
 not think of abandoning the Countess of Carboni 
 at a time when her nerves had been so painfully 
 acted upon. She however assured me that she 
 had no doubt the Marquis of Campanella, and 
 perhaps the Marchioness herself, would make all 
 haste to join her at Dover under existing circum- 
 stances ; and she besought me not to disturb my 
 own arrangements on her account, I said in 
 reply that we would see what the morrow brought 
 forth; and that I would shape my course accord- 
 ingly. Be it recollected that a courier had been 
 sent off in the morning to the Marquis of Cam- 
 panella in London; and that messenger might 
 reach the metropolis by the middle of the day. 
 And he did so, as the event transpired; for at 
 about eleven o'clock at night, just as Beatrice and 
 I were separating to retire to our respective cham- 
 bers, the Marquis and Marchioness of Campanella 
 arrived at the hotel. 
 
 I was therefore enabled to leave Dover on the 
 
 following morning; and in the afternoon I was 
 once again in Hunter Street. I will pass over all 
 the explanations which I had to give in reference 
 to the fearful tragedy ; and I will proceed to re- 
 late something which regarded my friend Mary 
 Grlentworth, and which will explain the plan that 
 the Duchess of Ardleigh had decided upon adopt- 
 ing in order to tranquillize Mary's mind for a few 
 months, until the return of her Grace from the 
 Continent should enable her to give the matter her 
 further consideration. 
 
 When Mary and I had an opportunity of 
 being alone together, she said, " My dear Ellen, 
 I have this day received a visit from my uncle's 
 solicitor." 
 
 " Indeed !" I ejaculated, anxious to learn what 
 was to follow. 
 
 " Yes," continued Mary Grlentworth ; " hero is 
 his card — Mr. Wilkinson, of Furnival's Inn. He 
 told me that my uncle, on making inquiries con- 
 cerning me, learnt that I had left Eiver House in 
 consequence of the death of Mrs. Oldcastle, and 
 that 1 was now residing here. He went on to say 
 that my uncle was suddenly compelled to leave 
 England on pressing business, which might detain 
 him for some months abroad; and that he had 
 therefore sent me the sum of two hundred guineas 
 to meet my expenses during his absence. But I 
 told Mr. Wilkinson that I did not require the 
 money, as Mrs. Oldcastle had left me a legacy of 
 five hundred pounds, which I should very shortly 
 receive. Mr. Wilkinson however insisted upon 
 my taking the money which he offered me on my 
 uncle's account ; and I have therefore done so. I 
 asked the lawyer where my uncle's house was 
 situated P— but he told me that Mr. Grlentworth 
 had just given up the residence which he had oc- 
 cupied somewhere at the West End of the town, 
 and that on his return from the Continent I 
 should be made acquainted with his new abode, 
 wheresoever he might fix it. As for the money, 
 I begged Mr. iN^orman to take care of it for me : 
 but he bade me keep it until your return, as you 
 would advise me how to lay it out. Oh ! I am so 
 glad, Ellen, that I have at length heard something 
 relative to my uncle : for to tell you the truth, I 
 was almost convinced in my own mind that there 
 was a mystery——" 
 
 "And now your mind is at ease, my dear 
 Mary," I said: but I thought within myself, 
 " Poor girl ! you must sooner or later learn the 
 actual truth ; and your sublime confidence in the 
 purity of your deceased mother will be doomed to 
 sustain a fearful shock !" 
 
 However, I was glad that the evil day was 
 postponed ; and I could not help admiring the 
 plan which the Duchess had adopted to effect this 
 procrastination : for it was characterized alike by 
 delicacy and generosity. I had no doubt that Mr. 
 Wilkinson was the solicitor of the Ardleigh family, 
 and that he had received explicit instructions hoir 
 to act in the case. 
 
 " With regard to that money, my dear Ellen," 
 continued Mary, " I must insist upon Mr. Nor- 
 man taking it— I cannot live here as a mere 
 guest " 
 
 " You are my guest for the present, Mary," I 
 said : " and the friendship which subsists between 
 us, must impel you to consider yourself so. When 
 you receive your legacy, you will have seven hun-
 
 ELLEK PEBCT; OH, THE MKM0IE3 OF AX ACTEE33. 
 
 357 
 
 dred pounds altogether ; and this amount will be 
 bought into the funds in your name, to be avail- 
 able for any future requirement that you may 
 have. So no more, I beseech you, upon this sub> 
 ject !" 
 
 The Dover solicitor, acting conjointly with Mr. 
 Norman, soon terminated the business ; and the 
 legacies were paid. Mary Glentworth's money 
 was disposed of as I had suggested ; and I availed 
 myself of my own legacy of three thousand 
 pounds to render my father independent of peri- 
 odical calls upon my purse. I had some difficulty 
 in effecting this object, inasmuch as for a long 
 time he absolutely refused to alter his pecuniary 
 position towards me : but I begged and entreated 
 that he would accept the amount, and therewith 
 purchase an annuity, so that he might secure to 
 himself a good income. Finally the matter was 
 thus arranged; and I was rejoiced at my ability 
 to place my sire in the possession of a comfortable 
 independence. 
 
 CHAPTER LXir. 
 
 AGAIN AT LEBDS! 
 
 Two months passed away from the date of the 
 incidents which I have been relating : it was now 
 the Christmas season — and the year 1841 was 
 drawing towards its close. 
 
 During those two months I occasionally saw 
 Zarah— or I ought rather to call her the wife of 
 the Eight Honourable Edwin St. Clair ; and every 
 time she informed me that she and her husband 
 were still living on the same terms as at first — 
 maintaining all outward appearances, but pri- 
 vately keeping up as it were a constant struggle 
 with each other. Yet Zarah was happy— or at 
 least contented enough with her lot : she was sur- 
 rounded by adulations and fiatteries on the part of 
 those who worshipped her husband's ascending 
 star : and as she felt confident that her own spirit 
 would never be broken by his treatment, she hoped 
 that in process of time he would become wearied 
 of waging a tacit warfare against her. 
 
 Lady CeciliaUrban bestowed her hand, about this 
 time upon the Earl of Belgrave— a young nobleman 
 of great wealth, of unimpeachable character, and 
 of considerable political promise. Her ladyship did 
 not forgot me in the distribution of the bridal 
 tokens; and an affectionately written billet gave 
 me the assurance that she should always remem- 
 ber me with friendship and gratitude. Melissa 
 Harrison had altogether withdrawn from the stage, 
 and was living in splendid style under the protec- 
 tion of the Marquis of Tynedale, — a piece of intel- 
 ligence which I received from my father. In has- 
 tily summing up these little matters, I must not 
 forget to mention that I frequently saw the Mar- 
 quis of Dalrymple in his private box at the the- 
 atre : for this young nobleman had not accompa- 
 nied his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Ard- 
 leigh, to the Continent. 
 
 it was now, as I have said, the Christmas sea- 
 son; and I had a holiday for about three weeks. 
 X was determined to avail myself of the leisure 
 which I could thus command, to carry out my 
 idea of making all requisite reparations to the 
 house at Leeds. I had told the Normans and 
 
 Mary Glentworth that Mr. Parks had assigned 
 this property to me : but I did not enter into any 
 further particulars with respect to the immense 
 bulk of my deceased grandsire's fortune of which 
 I had been so grossly defrauded. My father had 
 agreed to accompany me to Leeds : but at the 
 very time when the commencement of the Christ- 
 mas vacation afforded me the opportunity of pro- 
 ceeding thither, he met with an accident, which 
 though threatening no serious consequences, ne- 
 vertheless prevented him from leaving his resi- 
 dence at Forest Hill. This was a violent spraia 
 of the ankle; and therefore he found himself 
 unable to accompany me. I offered to postpone 
 my visit to the north ; but as I had previously 
 set my mind on it, he insisted that I should 
 accomplish it. I yielded to his wish ; and made 
 my preparations for the journey. 
 
 Beda only was to accompany me ; and we set 
 off. It was late at night when we reached Leeds; 
 and we took up our quarters at the best hotel in 
 the town. - When alone in my chamber, I could 
 not help reflecting with much emotion upon the 
 difference of my position on my return to Leeds 
 on this present occasion, from what it was when I 
 bad left it exactly seven years back. Then I was 
 utterly dependent on the housekeeper of my de- 
 ceased grandfather— uncertain of what my future 
 would be— and very far from foreseeing that I was 
 destined to rise to eminence as well as to wealth 
 in the pursuit of any particular avocation. Yet 
 so it was ! At the age of twelve and a half I had 
 one day been borne away from Leeds by Mrs. 
 Parks, to finish my education in the metropolis : 
 and now, at the age of nineteen and a half, I re- 
 turned to this same town of Leeds with an esta- 
 blished reputation and able to gain two thousand 
 a year by my profession ! Yet my career upon 
 the stage had only extended over a period of about 
 twenty months ; and all this had I done for myself 
 in that comparatively short interval ! I was now 
 again at Leeds;— and everything which had taken 
 place during the seven years of my absence there- 
 from, wore the aspect of a wild and wondrous 
 dream. 
 
 After breakfast on the following morning I 
 walked out alone to visit the house in which all 
 the earliest years of my life had been passed. I 
 did not take Beda with me ; for I felt assured 
 that when crossing the threshold of that edifice I 
 should become the prey of many emotions — and I 
 chose not that any one should witness them. la 
 about ten minutes I reached the street in which 
 the house was situated. But besides that house 
 and all its associations, there was something else 
 in my memory ; and this was the image of Mrs. 
 Kelly, the worthy old schoolmistress who had beea 
 so kind to me in my juvenile days. I had often 
 thought of her: — on several occasions I had made 
 up my mind to write from London and ascertaia 
 if she were still living — but sjmething had always 
 transpired to prevent me from fulfilling my inten- 
 tion. Now, as I entered the street where the old 
 lady had dwelt, I was smitten by a feeling which 
 savoured of remorse; for it struck me that I had 
 been ungrateful and neglectful towards one who 
 in past times was a good friend to me. 
 
 " I will inquire after her," I said to myself, 
 "before I proceed to the houso which is noir my 
 own."
 
 358 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTKES8. 
 
 It was with a palpitating heart and with a son- 
 Bation of rising emotions in my throat, that I drew 
 near the little habitation which the dame had oc- 
 cupied, and where I had received the elements 
 of education. As I approached the house, it 
 seemed not to be in any way changed from what 
 it formerly was : it had the same strange admix- 
 ture of dinginess and neatness in its appearance, 
 — dinginess with regard to the red- brick frontage, 
 and neatness in respect to the window draperies. 
 
 " Perhaps she is still alive," I said to myself, — 
 " still residing here— still keeping a seminary ?" 
 
 At that moment a neatly-dressed girl, having 
 the air of a tradesman's daughter, and carrying a 
 school-bag in her hand, passed me hurriedly. My 
 heart palpitated still more forcibly, as with my 
 eyes I followed her to watch whither she was 
 going. Ah ! she stopped at the door of the little 
 house towards which I also was bending my way 
 —she opened that door and entered. It was a 
 school, then !— but did Mrs. Kelly still keep it ? I 
 advanced to the door — I knocked — and in a few 
 moments it was opened by the very school girl 
 whom I had first seen enter. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Kelly reside here P" I inquired ; and 
 my voice fell in tremulous vibrations upon my own 
 ears. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," was the girl's response. " Will 
 you please to walk in." 
 
 I entered— I advanced into the school- room 
 —and the look which I at once threw around, 
 made me doubt whether I had not been dreaming 
 of the lapse of years, and whether I were not 
 veritably a school-girl still ! Nothing seemed al- 
 tered in that room. There were the same pictures 
 (chiefly prints of churches) hanging to the walls : 
 there was the array of forms, accommodating some 
 dozen of neatly dressed girls : there was a great 
 tortoise-shell cat lying upon the rug before the 
 fire ; and there in her easy-chair, at the little table 
 which served her as a desk, sat the dame herself. 
 She was apparelled in precisely the same style 
 which I had ever associated with her image, — a 
 black silk gown, her mittens, and the widow's cap 
 that sha had worn ever since her husband's death 
 long years ago. But her hair, which was only 
 grey when last I had seen her, was now quite 
 white; and she wore spectacles. Yes — there was 
 Mrs. Keliy, still alive — still evidently in comfort- 
 able circumstances— and still pursuing her scho- 
 lastic avocations ! 
 
 She doubtless thought that I was some one who 
 had come to speak to her on professional business; 
 for she rose, saluted me with respectful courtesy, 
 and begged me to be seated. A few of my readers 
 may perhaps think that I was very foolish— but 
 there are many who will comprehend the feelings 
 which influenced me, when I turned aside from 
 the chair which the dame indicated and sat down 
 upon the front form, in the very place which used 
 to be mine when I attended that setainarj ! Then 
 I could not restrain myself: the tears were trick- 
 ling from my eyes— and I held my kerchief to my 
 face. 
 
 " Oh, I know you nowj my dear girl ! I recol- 
 lect you !" exclaimed Mrs. Kelly, hastening for- 
 ward. " You are Ellen Percy, whom I always 
 loved and of whom I have often and often 
 thought!" 
 
 The nest moment I was folded in the dame's 
 
 arms, and was weeping upon her bosom. Some 
 minutes elapsed before either of us could suffi- 
 ciently conquer our feelings to give utterance to a 
 word. Mrs. Kelly was the first to recover her 
 self possession ; and she said, '•' Go into the other 
 room, girls — and amuse yourselves for the pre- 
 sent." 
 
 " Or rather," I faltered forth, " let them have 
 a holiday, my dear Mrs. Kelly — and here is some- 
 thing which if distributed amongst them, will 
 enable them to enjoy it. They will then remem- 
 ber what I am now telling them— that Ellen Percy 
 was once a pupil of your's, and that she never 
 thinks of you otherwise than with love and grati- 
 tude !" 
 
 With these words I placed a sovereign in the 
 hands of the eldest girl, who happened to be 
 the very one that I had seen arriving late at the 
 school, and who had afterwards opened the front 
 door for me. The joy and surprise of the young 
 folks may readily be imagined at this proceeding 
 on my part ; and they crowded around me to ex- 
 press their gratitude. The dame at once assented 
 to my request that they should have a whole holi- 
 day ; and the school room was speedily cleared. 
 
 "And now, my dear Ellen," said Mrs. Kelly,— 
 "for Ellen you must permit me to call you— 
 though 1 see that you are a young lady " 
 
 "Yes— always call me Ellen!" I exclaimed, 
 once more embracing her. 
 
 "You are rich — you are evidently well-to-do in 
 the world — and I am rejoiced at it !" she con- 
 tinued. "Perhaps, then, it was all false — that 
 rumour which somehow or another reached my 
 ears, that when Mrs. Parks died she left you 
 nothing, but everything to her son ?" 
 
 " That rumour was all true, my dear "friend," I 
 responded : " and whatsoever I am now possessed 
 of— with the single exception of my grandfather's 
 house — I have acquired by my own industry." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it !" cried the dame. 
 "But are you married, Ellen?" 
 
 " No," I rejoined, blushing for a moment : then 
 frankly raising my countenance, I added, " From 
 2/ou, my dear friend, I aan have no secrets. I am 
 engaged to my cousin Harry Wakefield— you re- 
 member him perhaps " 
 
 " Yes, I remember him— and your dear aunt 
 likewise," ejaculated Mrs. Kelly. " Ah ! I was 
 sadly grieved when I noticed her death in the 
 newspaper. As well as possible do I recollect- 
 yes, as well as if it were only yesterday — and yet 
 it must be nearly ten years ago— and you yourself 
 were only ten at the time— your aunt called with 
 you— she sat in that very chair — you were in the 
 window-recess- and she spoke to me concerning 
 you. But you blusb, Ellen?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear madam," I answered, "because 
 I recollect the incident full well ; and though not 
 intentionally listening, I overheard every syllable 
 you said ; for in your affectioa for me you spoke 
 flatteringly !" 
 
 "No— I did not flatter you," responded the 
 dame, caressing my cheek with her hand. " I 
 spoke of you with sincerity— I said you would 
 grow up to be a beautiful girl : and you are beau- 
 tiful, Ellen ! But more than beautiful !— you are 
 good ! Ob, I know that you are good !— there is 
 innocence in your looks ! Oh ! and now you have 
 that same sweetly bashful smile which was wont
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IB8 OP AW ACTRESS. 
 
 359 
 
 to characterize you when you were with me ! You 
 saw how readily I recollected you the instant I 
 obtained a full view of your countenance when 
 you eat down upon this form ; for you are all ia 
 jiersonal beauty that in your girlhood I prophe- 
 sied you would become ! This is no flattery, my 
 dear child ; for I look upon you with a maternal 
 fondness." 
 
 I pressed the old lady's hand, and again wiped 
 away the tears from my eyes. 
 
 " I will give you & proof, my dear girl," re- 
 sumed Mrs. Kelly, " that I bad nofc forgotten 
 you." 
 
 She took up a large portfolio as she thus spoke ; 
 and opening it upon her little trfble, she turned 
 over a number of drawings made by her Scholars, 
 as well as various prints and pictures, — continuing 
 to speak the while in the following strain : — 
 
 "It was about six months ago that a hawker 
 of cheap publications, lithographic prints, music, 
 and so forth, called at my house. On looking over 
 his collection, I beheld a portrait which at once 
 struck me. It was that of Miss TrafiTord, the 
 eminent tragic actress." 
 
 "Ah!" was the involuntary ejaculation which 
 fell from my lips : but the dame did not notice it ; 
 and she continued her discourse, while turning 
 over the contents of the portfolio. 
 
 "I purchased that portrait — for it seemed to 
 me, Ellen, to be a speaking likeness of what I pic- 
 
 thau a tolerable likeness — it was indeed a good 
 one; and I marvelled not that the worthy dame 
 should coutinue to ejaculate, " Now, is not the 
 resemblance singularly striking ?— is it not life- 
 like? — wouiil not anybody fancy it had been 
 really intended for yourself? ' 
 
 " Yes," I answered, bending my countenance 
 orer the picture : " there is a certain resem- 
 blance " 
 
 " A certain resemblance do you call it ?" she ex- 
 claimed : " it is a very great one ! I shall cover 
 over the words ' Hiss Tmjford,' and shall substi- 
 tute tho name of Ellen Perct/. It is to me a 
 treasure!"— and sho replaced the portrait in her 
 portfolio. 
 
 " And now, my dear friend," I said, hastening 
 to change the topic, " you will wonder what has 
 brought me to Leeds. I will tell you a tale of 
 villany. My grandfather bequeathed me every- 
 thing : Mrs. Parks and her son forged the will 
 which deprived me of my fortune ; and all that I 
 have obtained of the deceased Mr. Forayth's pro- 
 perty is the old house in this same street." 
 
 "This is dreadful !" ejaculated Mrs. Kelly. " My 
 poor child, that you should have thus been plun- 
 dered ! But Mr. Parks is living : can you not 
 invoke the aid of the law " 
 
 "It is too long now to tell you," I interrupted 
 her, " how grossly I have been defrauded by that 
 man. Suffice it to say that he has so cleverly 
 
 tured to myself that you must have grown up to I managed matters that the law cannot reach him 
 
 become. And it is, too ! The more I look at 
 
 you But where is this portrait ? I shall find 
 
 it in a moment ! You yourself will then recog- 
 nise the remarkable resemblance and, my dear 
 
 girl, it was on this account that I bouijht it. I 
 of course knew very well that it could not be 
 really meant for you. In the first place the 
 names are difi'erent; and then too, you never 
 showed the slightest taste in that direction ! But 
 sometimes, when alone, I have looked at that por- 
 trait, and I have thought to myself that if by any 
 accident my dear little Ellen Percy should have 
 become the greatest actress of the day — if for any 
 reason you had taken another name— in a word, 
 if you were really this Miss Trafibrd, — how proud 
 and happy should I be ! Yes— and I will confess, 
 my dear Ellen, that with an old woman's vanity 
 — pardonable though foolish— I should never have 
 ceased to boast to my neighbours that the far- 
 famed tragedian had once sat upon that very form 
 where you are now seated, and had received the 
 rudiments of education from me." 
 
 The old dame was still turning over the con- 
 tents of her portfolio, so that she did not perceive 
 the emotions which her kind and aflfcetionate words 
 conjured up j and after a brief pause she went on 
 as follows: — 
 
 "But of eoiirse I knew very well that these 
 were merely dreams and visions on my part — and 
 that with the exception of the resemblance be- 
 tween the portrait and yourself, there was nothing 
 identical in respect to Mies Trafford and Miss 
 Percy. Ah ! here's the portrait !" — and Mrs. 
 Kelly produced it. 
 
 I had never before seen this lithograph : but 
 then there had been many portraits of me pub- 
 lished at dilfcrent times, even though my career 
 upou the stage had been so short. 1 took this 
 one in my hand : I at once saw that it was more 
 
 In a word, I have nothing but the house— and I 
 am come to visit it. When I say nothing," I 
 hastily added, " I mean nothing of my late grand- 
 father's property. But now enough of my per- 
 sonal concerns ! All that I have been telling you, 
 my dear Mrs. Kelly, you had better keep to your- 
 self. I would rather that these afi'airs should not 
 become generally known." 
 
 "1 never liked that Mrs. Parks," said the dame : 
 "no— I never liked her, even before all those 
 evil reports began to circulate in the neighbour- 
 hood ■" 
 
 " What evil reports do you mean, my dear 
 friend ?" I asked quickly. 
 
 " Oh ! perhaps they were mere idle rumours," 
 rejoined Mrs. Kelly, — "something about the 
 treatment which your poor grandfather expe- 
 riuced at the hands of the old woman. But 
 scandal, you know, is always busy with the cha- 
 racters of others and perhaps Mrs. Parks, bad 
 
 though she were, was not quite so infamous as 
 tho world would make her out. Yet, as I was 
 saying, I never liked her ; and as for her son, from 
 what little I ever saw of him, I liked him even 
 less. But these are such unpleasant topics, for 
 heaven's sake let us change them : and now tell 
 me, my dear Ellen— you are happy and prosperous 
 — are you not?" 
 
 " Both happy and prosperous," I responded. 
 " But tell me in your turn, my dear Mrs. Kelly, 
 are you yourself perfectly happy in every sense- 
 comfortable— with no drawback to your content- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " My dear child, we all have our troubles in this 
 world," interjected the dame : and methought that 
 she heaved a sigh. 
 
 " Ah ! I feel convinced," I cried, " that 
 have some source of ulBiction ! Name it." 
 
 " It is of no use, Ellen," said the worth" 
 
 you
 
 360 
 
 BLiiEsr pbkct; ok, the memoies of an acteess. 
 
 woman. " You are happy : whj should I trouble 
 you with my griefs ?" 
 
 " Because I can sympathise with you," I an- 
 swered, affectionately pressing her hand. 
 
 " True !" she said : " and the sympathy of one 
 whom I love will be sweet ! Yet perhaps you will 
 think that what I regard as a misfortune, is some- 
 thing very trivial ; and you will be surprised at 
 me for my weakness and folly. But I will con- 
 fess this weakness, if such it be." 
 
 " Speak, my kind friend," I said, painfully inte- 
 rested in her discourse. 
 
 " For more than twenty years, Ellen, I have 
 lived in this house ; and it has become endeared 
 to me for a thousand reasons. Those who were 
 once my pupils and who are now grown up women 
 —many of them married, and having children of 
 their own— come to me at times — greet me with 
 affection— speak of past years— and melt with 
 emotion when sitting down, as you have now been 
 doing, in the places which they occupied in their 
 girlhood. Well then, Ellen, cannot you compre- 
 hend how this place is endeared to me ? But the 
 owner of the property has recently died — the 
 house is to be sold by his executors — and a neigh- 
 bour of mine is already bargaining for the pur- 
 chase that he may open a shop here in his own 
 trade. It is true I have some little means and 
 can take another house : but the idea of being 
 
 ejected for I have no lease — and indeed I have 
 
 already received notice that next quarter I may 
 have to turn out " 
 
 "This is indeed hard, my dear friend!" lex- 
 claimed. " But " 
 
 " Ah, Ellen [" interjected the dame, " with all 
 your goodness of heart I knew you could not see 
 the matter in the same light in which I behold 
 it. However, we will not talk any longer on 
 this subject." 
 
 The worthy woman at once turned the conver- 
 sation to other topics : but I soon took leave of 
 her — for I was anxious to visit the house which 
 had been bequeathed to me by my grandsire. I 
 affectionately embraced Mrs. Kelly ; and she be- 
 sought me to call upon her again, if I had time, 
 before I left Leeds. 
 
 On quitting her abode, I proceeded along the 
 street, every inch of which was familiar to me, 
 and many if not most of whose shops wore pre- 
 cisely the same aspect as when I last saw them 
 seven years back. At length I reached the house 
 which was my own. There it stood— its dark red 
 brick front darker and more dingy than ever ! 
 Many of the panes in the numerous small windows 
 were broken : it had a gloomy, miserable, sombre 
 appearance. It was just such a house as vulgar 
 superstition would repute to be haunted. And 
 many years back this was its reputation j for, as I 
 have said in the opening chapter of my narrative, 
 a dreadful murder had once been committed there, 
 and on account of its ill-fame Mr. Forsyth had 
 purchased it at so cheap a rate. I had learnt 
 from Mr. Parks on the day when he handed 
 me over the deed of conveyance, and when he so 
 cruelly defrauded me by means of the cheque 
 written with sympathetic ink, that the house had 
 been shut up ever since Mrs. Parks left it in com- 
 pany with me seven years back; but that the key 
 was in the hands of the house-agent living almost 
 opposite. Mr. Parks had likewise given me a 
 
 letter to this agent — to the effect that the house 
 was now mine, and that he was to hand me over 
 the key when I required it. 
 
 Having for some few minutes contemplated the 
 sombre and dilapidated building, I bent my steps 
 towards the agent's. Mr. Jacobs— for such was 
 his name — was in a very small way of business ; 
 or at all events, the appearance of his own dwell- 
 ing and little office did not denote very flourishing 
 circumstances. Two or three shabbily dressed 
 children were playing on the doorstep; and when 
 I crossed the threshold, my nostrils were assailed 
 by odours of tobacco and onions, blending with a 
 most nauseating effect. 
 
 " Is Mr. Jacobs at home P" I inquired of a 
 little dirty-looking man who was seated on a high 
 stool at a desk. 
 
 " My name is Jacobs, ma'am," he answered. 
 
 I should observe that though I recollected the 
 agency-office very well, I did not remember its 
 present occupant, for the reason that will pre- 
 sently transpire. 
 
 " Have the kindness to read this note," I said ; 
 and I handed him the letter which Mr. Parks had 
 given me, and which was addressed to Mr. 
 Jacobs, 
 
 He accordingly perused it : and taking off his 
 hat, he made a bow, saying, " I presume you are 
 the Miss Ellen Percy mentioned in this letter ?" 
 
 " The same," I responded. " And you have 
 the key of the house opposite ?" 
 
 " At your service, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Jacobs. 
 "There will be a little something to pay for 
 agency : it runs over a matter of seven years," he 
 continued, turning the dirty dog's-eared leaves of 
 his account-book : " for I bought the business of 
 Mr. Holland " 
 
 " Ah ! to be sure !" I said : " I recollect that 
 such was the name of the person who used to keep 
 
 this office. But proceed and whatever there 
 
 is to pay shall be promptly liquidated." 
 
 " Seven years' agency, and trying to let the 
 house," continued Mr. Jacobs : " I don't suppose, 
 Miss, that six shillings a year would hurt you ; 
 and so, if you give me a couple of guineas, I shall 
 be very glad to cry quits." 
 
 " Here is the amount," I said, astonished at the 
 insignificance of the demand. " I am to suppose, 
 then, that there have been no repairs effected — no 
 
 cleansing of any kind Indeed I have only to 
 
 look at the aspect of the premises," I added, with 
 a sigh, " to perceive the folly of my question !" 
 
 " Why, Miss, to speak the truth," responded 
 Mr. Jacobs, "according to the entry which I 
 found in Mr. Holland's book when I purchased 
 the business, and which entry you can read here, if 
 you please. Miss——" 
 
 "It is not necessary," I said: "be so kind as 
 to give me an idea of the sense of it." 
 
 "It is to say. Miss," continued Mr. Jacobs, 
 " that nothing would be allowed for any repairs 
 or cleansing whatsoever — that the house might 
 either be let at a low rental or else be sold out- 
 right for a small sum. Here it is ! Eent, 251. a- 
 year, to be taken on a repairing lease. Price for 
 the freehold, 500?." 
 
 " And has no one ever applied either to be- 
 come a tenant or a purchaser ?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, Miss— several persons, on seeing the 
 board up at the house announcing that it was to
 
 be let or sold, have come to make inquiries : but 
 on learning the terms they have gone away again, 
 without ever taking the trouble to look over the 
 premises at all. The fact is, Miss, begging your 
 pardon for saying so— but it is my duty to tell 
 you— the truth is the house has got a bad 
 name " 
 
 " I know that it had many, many years ago 
 when my grandfather purchased it. There is a 
 tradition of a horrible murder having been com- 
 mitted there: but surely that evil repute must 
 have worn itself out, especially as my grandfather 
 subsequently occupied the house for so long a 
 period ?" 
 
 " Well, Miss," said Mr. Jacobs, looking at me 
 significantly, " I suppose you wish to hear the 
 
 real truth and if you do, I am the man to 
 
 tell it." 
 
 " Yes, speak candidly !" I replied : and fancy- 
 ing that 1 beheld an avaricious twinkle in his 
 No. 46.— EiLEN Peect. 
 
 eyes, I laid down another sovereign upon Lis 
 desk ; for I bad a presentiment that the man bad 
 something to unfold which it was my duty to 
 hear. 
 
 " You see. Miss Percy," he continued, " the 
 terms upon which this house of your's has hitherto 
 been either to let or sell, are low and trifling 
 enough. People have been to my office to make 
 inquiries, as I have already informed you. When 
 they hear the terms, they think that there must 
 be something strange that they are so low ; and 
 instead of giving themselves the trouble to look 
 over the premises at once, they go and make in- 
 quiries elsewhere. And then what do they hear ? 
 Very bad reports connected with that house. Now, 
 you havo enjoined me to tell you the whole tru'ch 
 — and I shall tell it. It is not only, then, that 
 many years ago a wife was murdered by her hus- 
 band under the most horrible circumstances— but 
 likewise that now forgive me for speaking the 
 
 ^\
 
 362 
 
 ELLEK PEECT ; OE, THE ME3I0IES OF AN ACIRE33. 
 
 tmtli It is that your grandfather himself was 
 
 murdered by his old housekeeper !" 
 
 " Good God !" I ejaculated, staggering back 
 against the wall, and with a sensatioa of the 
 deadly paleness that came over my countenance. 
 " Is it possible that such is the report ?" 
 
 "It is indeed, Miss," replied Mr. Jacobs. "It 
 
 is said that Mrs. Parks poisoned the old man 
 
 But you look very ill! Let me offer you a glass 
 of water ?" 
 
 " Ifo, no, I thank you!— I shall bo better in 
 a moment ! And such is the rumour 1" I mur- 
 mured, with a horrified feeling, as I now com. 
 prehended those dark mysterious allusions which 
 ' Mrs. Kelly had made to the character of the 
 deceased housekeeper, 
 
 "I am sorry that I should have told you any- 
 thing to give you so much pain," proceeded Mr. 
 Jacobs : " but it was my duty to explain the 
 whole truth. So you see. Miss, that when persons 
 go about the neighbourhood making inquiries and 
 learn that the place is generally known as the 
 haunted house, it is no wonder they never come 
 back to ask for the key to inspect the premises." 
 
 " Ko wonder, indeed !" I murmured, scarcely 
 knowing what I said ; for my mind was filled with 
 the most harrowing and torturing reflections. 
 
 Mr. Jacobs had no more information to give 
 me. I summoned all my fortitude to my aid — I 
 nerved myself with all my energy to 8tru<,'e;le 
 against the horrible ideas — I will even say suspi- 
 cions which had arisen in my mind : and taking 
 up the key which the house-agent had laid upon 
 his desk, I turned to leave the office, 
 
 " You will permit mo to accompany you, 
 Miss ?" said Mr. Jacobs. 
 
 "No, I thank you," was my response: then 
 fancying that some little explanation was requisite 
 for this refusal of the man's courtesy, I added, 
 "You may easily suppose that under all circum- 
 stances my feelings aro Tery much excited— and 
 I would fain be alone." 
 
 I left the office and proceeded to the house op- 
 posite. I placed the key in the lock ; but it was 
 only with the greatest difficulty and after three or 
 four attempts that I could turn it. At length the 
 door opened; I crossed the tbreshold-^tbe ball 
 looked as gloomy as if it were the entrance to a 
 sepulchre— the silence which prevailed was like 
 that of death — while the atmosphere seemed 
 fraught with the dampness of the grave itself. 1 
 confess that I shuddered, and hesitated to advance 
 farther into that house of evil repute: but con- 
 quering my repugnance, and feeling ashamed of my 
 superstitious terrors, I closed the door behind me. 
 
 The light was now but feebly admitted into the 
 hall by a window on the landing ; for the panes 
 of this window were all grimed with collected dust 
 and with the falling soot from the chimneys of ad- 
 jacent factories. My feet as I advanced raised a 
 cloud of dust ; and now that the front door was 
 shut, the smell of the air was mouldy as well as 
 damp. To enter into a house which has long been 
 shut up, always tends to make a certain disagree- 
 able impression upon the mind : but to enter a 
 house to which such terrific rumours were at- 
 Inched as the one where I now found myself, was 
 only too well calculated to inspire tho boldest 
 heart with a vague superstitious dread. 
 
 Mustering all my energies, and resolute in 
 
 triumphing over these unpleasant impressions, I 
 opened the door of the parlour which was wont to 
 b* inhabited during my grandfather's lifetime. I 
 should observe that the house was empty, — all 
 the furniture (such as it was) having been hur- 
 riedly disposed of after my grandsire's death, when 
 Mrs. Parks made up her mind to leave the town. 
 The light was admitted into that parlour bv the 
 heart-shaped air-holes in the rickettyold shutters: 
 but the room was involved in semi-obscurity ; and 
 as I glanced around, it almost seemed to me as if 
 shadows were stealing through the gloom at the 
 farther extremity. I thought that I had already 
 seen enough of this dismal dreary house : but ou 
 the other hand there was a feeling in my mind 
 that I ought to visit the room where my poor 
 grandfather had breathed his last— and I likewise 
 had a yearning to ascend to the little chamber 
 where I myself used to sleep. I passed into that 
 back room on the ground floor which my grand- 
 father was wont to call his office ; and this was 
 even darker than the front parlour. The paper 
 had all become detached from the walls by the 
 damp; and it hung in blackened tatters or in 
 masses, like time-worn and dilapidated tapestry in 
 the ruined chambers of some ancient caatle. I 
 passed on into the little room which my grand- 
 father had occupied, and where he had breathed 
 his last. It was empty, like the other rooms: bat 
 in imagination I again behold the wretched, 
 ricketty, dirty, comfortless bed in which the old 
 man died — the drapery hanging from the beam — 
 and the escritoire to which he had pointed when 
 in his last moments indicating to Mrs. Parks 
 where his will would be found. Oh! and now 
 how vividly in my mind were conjured up the ter- 
 rific words which I had heard liim spoak on tiiat 
 occasion: — "And if you do not fulfil the oath yon 
 have taken —if you, fail in one single particular 
 — may the cttrse of a dying man cling to yitu for 
 the remainder of your existence ! — may it poison 
 the very springs of that existence ! — may it stifle 
 your last prayer in your throat tvhcn your own 
 time shall also come-!— and may it hurry your 
 soul into everlasting perdition .'" 
 
 " Oh, my God !" I thought to myself, " if that 
 terrific curse could have had its full eflTect ! and if 
 its withering, blighting influence can have fallen 
 upon the vile perjured woman, body and soul !" 
 
 A cold shudder crept over me ; and when in 
 imagination I depicted the last appalling scene of 
 my grandfather's life, — when, with my inward 
 vision, I beheld that chamber furnished and 
 peopled in every respect as I had then seen it— 
 but when, with my outward eyes, I saw it empty 
 and gazed upon vacancy, — there was something 
 awful and appalling in the very contrast betweea 
 the actual fact and the e2"ect of my fancy ! 
 
 And now a thousand reminiscences began to 
 crowd in upon my mind. I reviewed all the cir- 
 cumstances of my grandfather's death: in short, 
 I was at that moment constituting myself as it 
 were a tribuna', with the image of Mrs. Parks ar- 
 raigned before me, accused of murder, and for me 
 to pronounce the sentence Yea or Nay- Guilty or 
 Not Guilty ! 
 
 I recollected how my grandfather was first 
 taken ill, without any visible cause for his indis- 
 position— how on his refusal to have medical ad- 
 vice Mrs. Parks did not use her influence to over-
 
 ELLEN' PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AJf ACTEESS. 
 
 303 
 
 rule his meanness and send for a surgeon in his 
 despite — but hov7 she herself administered the 
 medicines that she purchased at the chemist's. 
 Then I recollected how Mrs. Parks insisted upon 
 ™y fjoing to school instead of sufTering me to re- 
 main to nurse my poor eld grandsire ; and I re- 
 membered likewise bow the kind-hearted Mrs. 
 Kellj purposely gave me a holiday that 1 might 
 bo with my perishing relative. And now also to 
 my mind with startling vividness came back a 
 scene which has been duly recorded in the second 
 chapter of my narrative, — how on reaching home 
 on that occasion when the holiday was given, I 
 found Mrs. Parks and her son seated very close 
 together, in earnest whispering conversation over 
 the fire, and how my unexpected entrance startled 
 them up,— .the son exiiibiting the greatest confu- 
 sion, and the old woman wearing an expression of 
 countenance which had absolutely frightened me ! 
 And I likewise recollected how Mrs. Parks had 
 begged me not to mention to my grandfather that 
 her son was there. 
 
 All these circumstances had hitherto struck me 
 as suspicious only in respect to the forgery of the 
 will, since I had known of that forgery : but now, 
 as I reviewed them, they appeared to assume a 
 still deeper significancy and to point to a still 
 darker crime. My horrible suspicions in respect 
 to that crime were growing sti*ongor and stronger 
 as I continued to review the incidents attending 
 my poor grandfather's death. I recollected how 
 he got better and worse— how on the morning of 
 his last day he declared that he was well enough 
 to get up and that i might go to Echool~how on 
 my return home in the evening to tea, I felt con- 
 vinced he was sinking— but how at ten at night 
 he rallied and proclaimed himself to be much 
 better again— and how within a couple of hours 
 he was a corpse ! 
 
 " Poison ! poison !" I murmured to myself, as 
 the whole train of incidents swept like a ghastly 
 phantasmagoria before my mental vision. " Every 
 circtftnstance corroborates the frightful idea !— and 
 I who never suspected it until now ! Yes, thou 
 wast murdered, my poor grandfather! — murdered 
 by the wretch who had so long eaten of thy bread ! 
 —and no doubt her son was an accomplice in the 
 crime !" 
 
 Again did I shudder to the uttermost confines 
 of my entire being. Oh! no wonder that the 
 house should have acquired so terrible a reputa- 
 tion and that it should be deemed haunted!— for 
 to me it oven appeared to be accursed ! I moved 
 towards the door : but I scarcely know how it was, 
 I there seemed to be some species of horrible fasci- 
 nation keeping me there, as if insensibly binding 
 me to the contemplation of a spot which I had 
 now no doubt had been the scene of a foul and 
 fear.ul crime. At length, with a strong exercise 
 of my resolution, I left the chamber. Again I 
 thought 1 had seen enough of that house which 
 wore the aspect of murder's own abode : but again 
 was I inspired by the wish to cast ono look upon 
 the little chamber where I myself had been wont 
 to sleep. I therefore ascended the staircase, — 
 my footsteps still raising clouds of dust, and every 
 stair creaking beneath me; while through the 
 semi-obscurity that prevailed I again thought that 
 I beheld shadows fleeting. 
 
 In a few moments I reached the room which 
 
 Mrs. Parks used to occupy. I passed throuijh it, 
 with a cold shudder at the recollection that I had 
 slept in such close vicinage with such a woman ; 
 and I entered the little chamber beyond. It was 
 empty, as every other room was : but my imagi- 
 nation readily depicted it as it was wont to ba 
 when I was its tenant; and again I thought to 
 myself how different was now my position from 
 what I could ever have foreseen in the girlhood 
 that was associated with this little chamber ! And 
 now all my feelings, hitherto pent up, found a 
 vent— and I wept copiously. My tears relieved 
 my surcharged heart : I wiped my eyes — and I 
 was retracing my way through the room which 
 used to be occupied by Mrs. Parks, when I 
 dropped my kerchief. While stooping to pick it 
 up, it seemed to me that the board on which my 
 foot rested was loose, and that it vibrated in its 
 setting. For a moment I was inclined to attach 
 no particular importance to a circumstance which 
 might well arise from the generally dilapidated 
 condition of the house, — until I noticed that by 
 the fact of treading upon that board and then 
 withdrawing my foot, it had so glided back as it 
 were out of its setting that one extremity now 
 revealed a little opening. While contemplating 
 that aperture, I observed that whereas all the 
 other boards ran the full length of the room, each 
 without any joining, this particular board had the 
 appearance of being a piece let in. Could such 
 an arrangement be for any particular purpose ? 
 Such was the question I asked myself; and all 
 cii'cuinstances, even the most trivial, were now 
 fraught with a degree of significancy and assumed 
 an importance in my estimation. Indeed, the 
 idea struck me that as my grandfather was a 
 miser, the house might contain hoarded wealth 
 hitherto unknown and unsuspected ; and that 
 such a contrivance as I now beheld upon the 
 floor, might have served as one of the means 
 for concealing the treasured gold, if any. I 
 did not pause to reflect that it was unlikely 
 enough he would have chosen his housekeeper's 
 room for tho purpose of such concealment: 
 but applying my foot to the extremity of the 
 board, I caused it to glide completely back 
 from its proper place. At the first glance I be- 
 held nothing in the recess thus revealed, — until 
 a closer inspection showed me some little dark 
 object which looked like a folded rag or paper 
 packet blackened with dust. I was half inclined 
 to leave it there : indeed I was already turning 
 away, when some incomprehensible feeling, having 
 the sensation of a vague presentiment, prompted 
 me to push my curiosity a little farther. With- 
 drawing my glove, I took up the dark object, and 
 found that it was a piece of rotting linen rag 
 wrapped about some small hard substance. I 
 took off the rag; and I discovered this hard sub* 
 stance to be a little tin-bos, about as large as the 
 usual gallipots in which cold cream or cerates aro 
 ! sold. A suspicion flashed to my mind : for had I 
 I not on a former occasion beheld certain little tin- 
 boxes resembling this one? Yes!— and the box 
 I which I now held in my hand, contained things 
 ! which rattled in tho metal inclosure. With shud- 
 dering form and with quivering fingers I opened 
 j the lid of the box ; and therein I beheld half-a- 
 I dozen small lozenges, about the size of coffee- 
 beans, and of a similar colour !
 
 364 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTEE39. 
 
 "My God!" I murmured to myself; "it is now 
 but too apparent ! Yes, my poor grandfather, 
 thou wast poisoned ! — and that same species of 
 poison which took thy life seven years back, was 
 six months ago intended to take mine likewise !" 
 
 I placed the little box in my pocket, and I 
 issued from the room where I had made a dis- 
 covery so important in its horrible significancy. 
 There was a tremendous consternation resting 
 upon my mind — an awful dismay sitting like a 
 nightmare upon my soul. 
 
 " Oh, of how many crimes am I to become 
 aware in this world !" 1 thought within myself,— 
 " I who have never committed any !" 
 
 I issued from the house, locking the front door 
 and taking the key with me. I saw Mr. Jacobs 
 standing on the threshold of his office, evidently 
 waiting to see whether I had any instructions to 
 give him in reference to the premises : but I af- 
 fected not to notice him and hastened along the 
 street, for my mind was too much agitated to 
 allow me to enter into immediate discourse with 
 any one. Before I returned to the hotel I walked 
 about Leeds that I might compose my feelings 
 somewhat, so as to avoid betraying to Beda the 
 extent to which they had been harrowed and hor- 
 rifled. At length, when I did go back to the 
 hotel, I sent out Beda to make certain private 
 inquiries ; and then I shut myself in my chamber, 
 to reflect upon everything which had transpired 
 on this memorable morning. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXIII. 
 
 MB8. NOEMAN. 
 
 That my unfortunate grandfather had been 
 poisoned by the infamous Mrs. Parks, I had not 
 now the slightest doubt ; and I was almost equally 
 certain of the complicity of her son in the stupen- 
 dous crime. As I meditated upon the awful sub- 
 ject, I gradually began to comprehend the motives 
 which the Parks's must have had for this atrocity. 
 My grandfather had made his will in my favour ; 
 and no doubt Mrs. Parks had by some means or 
 another ascertained that it was in the house and 
 that it had not been entrusted to the care of a 
 solicitor. Thus, if my grandfather were put out 
 of the way, the will might be likewise destroyed 
 and a forged one substituted. A variety of cir- 
 cumstances must have induced Mrs. Parks and 
 her son to accelerate by a crime the death of the 
 old man for whose decease in the natural course of 
 things they deemed it not prudent to wait. There 
 was the visit of my aunt Mrs. Wakefield, which 
 visit might have been repeated, and my grand- 
 father might have entrusted her with the will or 
 acquainted her with its contents and have left me 
 to her guardianship. Then there was the sudden 
 appearance of my father in the neighbourhood; 
 and Mrs. Parks could not tell what influence he 
 might possibly manage sooner or later to obtain 
 over the old man. I myself was getting of an 
 Dge at which I might be supposed to be intelli- 
 gent with respect to whatsoever was passing 
 around me; and the more I became capable of 
 rendering myself useful to my grandfather, the 
 more would the influence of Mrs. Parks decline. 
 
 And then too, Mrs. Parks could not have failed to 
 perceive that she was more or less an object of 
 suspicion to the old man, though ho had not the 
 moral courage to dispense with her further ser- 
 vices. Thus, all thing considered, there were 
 plenty of reasons for Mrs. Parks and her son to 
 apprehend that Mr. Forsyth's wealth would even- 
 tually slip out of their hands unless they perpe- 
 trated a crime, promptly and boldly, though with 
 diabolic insidiousness, to secure his riches for 
 themselves. 
 
 Yes — I now comprehended it all ! I could read 
 the past as lucidly as if it were being unfolded to 
 me by some superior genius having a knowledge 
 of all things. And then, in reference to the 
 poison by which the crime had been perpetrated, 
 — there were the lozenges of the vei;y same 
 species which the old hag. Dame Betty, Zarah's 
 grandmother had given to Beda with instructions 
 that they were to be administered to me. Mrs. 
 Parks had probably procured those envenomed 
 lozenges from Dame Betty herself, or else from 
 some wretch of the same gang to whom the secret 
 of the horrible compound was known; and in the 
 hurry in which we had left the house after my 
 grandfather's death, the guilty woman had for- 
 gotten to destroy those traces of her crime. I 
 could not help feeling, with a sensation of solemn 
 awe, that the hand of providence had been gra- 
 dually guiding me on towards the discovery of this 
 tremendous crime, — flrst by making me aware at 
 Birmingham of how such things as the poisoned 
 lozenges were in existence, — then, more recently, 
 enabling me to obtain from Mr. Parks the con- 
 veyance of the old house at Leeds, in order that I 
 might come back to this very house and there dis- 
 cover the concealed evidence of the iniquity which 
 had been accomplished. 
 
 The reader may well suppose that my reflections 
 ranged not merely over the past, but that they 
 applied to the present and the future, and that I 
 deliberated with myself what steps I should take 
 in order to bring Mr. Parks to justice, if he were 
 really an accomplice in his deceased mother's guilt. 
 I conceived that I had now a solemn duty to per- 
 form — namely, to punish the surviving assassin (if 
 an assassin he really were) of my unfortunate old 
 relative. I was resolved that nothing should in- 
 duce me to depart from this duty — nothing should 
 compel me to forego it. I was inspired by no vin- 
 dictive feeling on my own account through the loss 
 of my fortune : the duty which I had to perform 
 I regarded in the sacred light of something high 
 above all selfish considerations. But what course 
 should I adopt to discover first of all whether Mr. 
 Parks were really the guilty accomplice of his 
 mother ?— and if this could be by any means 
 proven, how was I to bring that guilt home to 
 him ? I saw that my position was altogether a 
 diflicult one in these respects : but still I was re> 
 solved to be daunted by no obstacles and to be de- 
 terred by no considerations. 
 
 I had sent out Beda to make certain private 
 inquiries connected with a matter very different 
 from that to which I am referring. After an ab- 
 sence of upwards of an hour the faithful girl re- 
 turned ; and I assumed as composed a demeanour 
 as possible— for I did not at present wish to enter 
 into any explanations with regard to my horrible 
 discoveries of that morning, though I had no
 
 doubt that on a future occasion I should tako 
 Beda into my confidence on the point, inasmuch 
 as her assistanco would bo needful in following up 
 the clue which I already possessed. 
 
 " Have you succeeded, Beda ?" I inquired, when 
 the young girl reappeared at the hotel. 
 
 "Yes, Miss," she responded. "If you call 
 upon Mr. Sawbridge, an attorney who lives in 
 this very same street, you will ascertain every 
 particular." 
 
 "I will go at once," I said: and in a fe<y 
 minutes I entered the attorney's office. 
 
 Mr. Sawbridge was there; and I was at once 
 admitted into his presence. I introduced myself 
 to him as Miss Percy — which name indeed I was 
 passing under at the hotel ; so that he had no idea 
 I was the well-known Miss Trafford. 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Sawbridge," I said, "you are 
 one of the executors of the late Mr. Bolton — to 
 whom belonged, amongst other property, the 
 house in which Mrs. Kelly the schoolmistress re- 
 sides?" 
 
 "It is as you have been informed. Miss Percy," 
 replied the lawyer. " It is my duty as an executor 
 to make the most of the property of the deceased 
 for the heirs whom he has left behind ; and as 
 these are three in number, I am compelled to 
 realise that property with a view to its equal dis- 
 tribution. I have already received an ofier for 
 the house to which you allude : but I have not 
 yet found time to progress with the negotia- 
 tion." 
 
 " What is the value of the house ?" I in* 
 quired. 
 
 "The offer I have received is sis hundred 
 pounds," ypas the attorney's response. 
 
 " It would be a hard thing," I said, " to compel 
 the poor old lady to leave a house which she has 
 inhabited so long and in a neighbourhood where 
 she has formed so good a connexion for her day- 
 school. Can nothing be done to ensure her the 
 occupation of the house for the remainder of her 
 life ? She has not many years to live " 
 
 "I see that you are interested in her," said 
 Mr. Sawbridge ; " and I will explain to you 
 exactly how the matter stands. The deceased 
 Mr. Bolton's heirs instructed me to offer Mrs. 
 Kelly the lease of the house, at its present rental, 
 for the remainder of her natural life, if she would 
 pay a bonus of a hundred and fifty pounds. But 
 this she has declined to do." 
 
 " Because doubtless," I said, " her means cannot 
 be very great. But I presume it will be precisely 
 the same thing if I pay that sum for her? — and 
 you will give her the lease ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered Mr. Sawbridge. " As I 
 have already told you. Miss Percy, it is my object 
 as well as my duty to make the property produce 
 as much as possible for its present heirs. Mrs. 
 Kelly pays a very low rent : but the bonus which 
 I have named would be considered by the heirs as 
 a just equivalent for the advantages they would 
 otherwise attain by the immediate sale of the 
 house." 
 
 " Then I will pay that money," I said. " I pre- 
 sume you will take my cheque on my London 
 banker? — as I did not come to Leeds prepared 
 ■with any such amount." 
 
 I saw that the lawyer hesitated; and I therefore 
 added, "Mr. Jacobs, the house-agent in 
 
 Street, can satisfy you that I have a little pro- 
 perty in this town which is worth considerably 
 more than the sum mentioned becween us. But 
 perhaps, if you glance at this card, you will bo 
 still more completely satisfied of my ability to pay 
 the 8un>." 
 
 Thus speaking, I handed Mr. Sawbridge the 
 card of my dramatic name ; and on looking at it, 
 he at once expressed himself completely satisfied, 
 and spoke of the honour which he experienced in 
 thus forming my acquaintance. He promised 
 that the lease should be drawn up that very day, 
 and that it should be in readiness for my disposal 
 on the following morning at ten o'clock, I re- 
 quested him to keep the matter secret from Mrs. 
 Kelly, as I reserved to myself the pleasure of 
 affording thai excellent lady an agreeable sur- 
 prise ; and I took my departure from the lawyer's 
 office. 
 
 In the course of the day I reflected that after 
 everything which had transpired in respect to my 
 late grandfather's house, it would be better to 
 leave the building in its present condition for a 
 little while, until I should have ascertained whether 
 it were possible to bring Mr. Parks to justice : for 
 I thought that perhaps it might be needful for me 
 to show where I had discovered the poisoned 
 lozenges. I therefore called upon Mr. Jacobs, 
 and informed him that for the present I had 
 arrived at no decision in respect to what I would do 
 with the house, further than that I did not choose 
 to let it ; and that therefore the board fastened 
 over the front door and announcing that it was 
 either to be let or sold, might be taken down. 
 
 On the following morning, shortly after ten 
 o'clock, I proceeded to the lawyer's office, where I 
 found that the lease was duly prepared, according 
 to his promise. I gave him the cheque for a hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds; and I took my departure, 
 in possession of the document. I bent my steps 
 towards the residence of the worthy dame to whose 
 interests I had thus been devoting my attention : 
 I found her in the schoolroom, surrounded by her 
 pupils ; and she welcomed me with affectionate 
 joy. I requested permission to speak to her alone 
 for a few minutes; and we retired together into 
 her parlour. 
 
 " I am now come, my dear Mrs. Kelly," I said 
 " to reveal to you a secret which I might have 
 confessed yesterday : but I really had not the 
 spirits to boast rejoicefuUy of my own elevation 
 in the world. I was affected by my meeting with 
 you— by all the past associations which that meet- 
 ing conjured up— and by the prospect of imme- 
 diately afterwards visiting the old house where 
 my childhood was spent. I had scarcely any other 
 
 motive for my reserve upon the point and 
 
 thank God, no shame !" 
 
 " Ob, my dear girl ! is it possible," exclaimed 
 Mrs Kelly, whose venerable countenance became 
 radiant as she suspected the truth, — "is it pos- 
 sible " 
 
 "Ah! and remember, my good friend," I in- 
 terrupted her, smiling, " that you assured me you 
 should at once tell the secret to all your neigh- 
 bours !— and as I came to Leeds under a strict 
 inecjnito, for mere business purposes " 
 
 " Oh ! then, after all," cried the dame, " it is 
 your portrait — and you are Miss Trafford !" 
 
 She embraced me, the tears of joy flowing from
 
 366 
 
 EXLEN PKECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTBES3. 
 
 her eyes; and she naurmured with much emotion, 
 "This is the happiest day of my life! To think 
 that you were my pupil!" 
 
 And then, in the enthusiasm of her delight, she 
 was rushing to the school-room to announce the 
 intelligence to her scholars : but I caught her by 
 the arm, saying, "No, my dear friend!— not yet ! 
 I beseech you to wait until I am gone." 
 
 " Well, my dear Ellen, it shall be so. But you 
 ■will pardon an old woman's pride " 
 
 " Oh ! of yoii, I never can think otherwise than 
 with the most grateful affection!" I exclaimed ; 
 "and a happy moment is it for me in which I can 
 testify all the gratitude of my heart. In my 
 youthful days many and many an act of kindness 
 did I receive from you ; and though I shall ever 
 remain your debtor, yet may I at least prove that 
 I am sensible of the obligation. You shall not 
 leave your house, my dear friend ! — you shall con- 
 tinue to occupy for the remainder of your days the 
 dwelling which is endeared to you ! — and may you 
 yet live long to enjoy the possession of it !" 
 
 I spread out the lease before the worthy dame ; 
 and having hurriedly but fervidly embraced her, 
 I sped forth from the habitation, that I might 
 avoid the expressions of gratitude to which she 
 was beginning to give utterance. I returned to 
 the hotel ; and within the same hour Eeda and I 
 were on our way back to London, 
 
 It was past ten o'clock when we reached Hunter 
 Street ; and the moment the footman opened the 
 front door, I perceived by his look that there was 
 something wrong. I anxiously and hurriedly in- 
 quired if Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Miss Grlent. 
 worth were well?— and then the domestic, shaking 
 his bead with a solemn air, said, " I am afraid 
 Miss Percy that you have very bad tidings to re- 
 ceive ! My poor mistress " 
 
 " Good heavens !" I cried : and without waiting 
 to hear any more, I rushed up the stairs. 
 
 On the landing I met Mr. Norman, who was 
 overwhelmed with grief on seeing me ; and 
 taking my hand he pressed it nervously and con- 
 vulsively in his own, his voice being lost in sobs. 
 Some minutes elapsed ere he could give utterance 
 to a word to relievo mo from the agonizing sus- 
 pense which I experienced : and then he said in 
 broken accents, " My poor wife ! I fear that she 
 is on her death bed !" 
 
 I burst into tears ; and without waiting to hear 
 any more, I hastened up to Mrs. Norman's cham- 
 ber. She was lying in bed; and Mary Glent- 
 worth was seated by her side. The poor lady 
 looked very pale : her eyes were sunken, and had 
 blueish circles about them. She smiled when she 
 beheld me ; and said in a feeble voice, " I am glad 
 you are come, dearest Ellen, that I may see you 
 before I die !" 
 
 I threw myself upon her bosom and wept bit- 
 terly : but she bade me console myself — and she 
 spoke in the sweet mild voice of placid resignation. 
 When the first violence of my affliction was some- 
 what past, I turned and embraced Mary Glent- 
 worth, whose cheeks were likewise moistened with 
 tears. Almost immediately afterwards the family 
 physician made his appearance ; so that Mary and 
 I withdrew. 
 
 Mavy accompanied me to my chamber, where I 
 now learnt the particulars of Mrs. Norman's ill- 
 ness. She was seated at luncheon, at about one 
 
 o'clock, when she suddenly sank back in her chair, 
 and pressing her hand to her forehead, ejaculated 
 faintly, " Good God ! I feel very ill !" The next 
 instant blood streamed forth from her mouth. The 
 alarm and grief of Mr. Norman and Mary may be 
 conceived : the physician was sent for, and Mrs. 
 Norman was at once conveyed to her chamber. 
 When the medical attendant arrived, he pro- 
 nounced that she had broken a blood-vessel inter- 
 nally. She was a little past fifty years of age — 
 somewhat stout of figure, and of a full habit of 
 body. She had not been accustomed to take much 
 exercise, having for some years enjoyed the use of 
 her own carriage. She lived well, and seldom took 
 medicine j for she had a prej udice against " tamper- 
 ing with one's constitution," as she called it ; — 
 and thus, all things considered, it was not difficult 
 to account for the accident which had befallen her. 
 The physician had privately informed Mr. Nor- 
 man that his wife's position was most critical, and 
 that little short of a miracle would save her. A 
 messenger had therefore been sent off to Juliet at 
 Dover ; and a communication would likewise have 
 been made to me at Leeds, had I not written on 
 the previous day a few hasty lines to the effect 
 that I had arrived there safe and specifying when 
 I might be expected home again. Such was tho 
 statement which I received from the lips of Mary 
 Glentworth ; and now that I was made acquainted 
 with the cause of Mrs. Norman's illness, I per- 
 ceived how exceedingly serious it was, and I 
 dreaded a fatal result. For two years I had re- 
 sided with her : for two years she had been as a 
 mother to me ; and it was with a daughter's affec- 
 tion that I regarded her — therefore it was with a 
 daughter's grief that I thought of what the end 
 might be ! 
 
 The physician gave Mr. Norman scarcely any 
 hope. This medical man was conscientious as 
 well as talented ; and he did not choose to belio 
 by his words that knowledge which his experience 
 gave him. Poor Mr. Norman suffered acutely : 
 but he strove to conquer his emotions when in his 
 wife's chamber, because she was tranquil and re- 
 signed, and he struggled hard to avoid anything 
 that might embitter the last few hours that she 
 had to live. As I had travelled nearly the whole 
 day and was much fatigued, Mary Glentworth 
 insisted that I should retire to rest, and that she 
 herself should sit up with Mrs, Norman during 
 the night. To this I assented, on condition that 
 I should take her place at about four or five 
 o'clock in the morning, so that Mary might bo 
 enabled to obtain a few hours of repose. I bade 
 Beda call me at the time specified ; for the young 
 girl had the faculty of awakening at any moment 
 when she thought fit, — this power being the spon- 
 taneous exercise of the volition when influenced by 
 a preconceived intention. 
 
 Accordingly, between four and five o'clock, I 
 took my place by the side of Mrs. Norman's 
 couch ; and shortly afterwards I heard an equipage 
 stop in front of the house. Peeping through tho 
 window I saw that it was a post-chaise ; and I 
 therefore knew that Juliet had arrived. I was 
 glad that she had come ; for Mrs. Norman had 
 been labouring under the painful apprehension 
 that she should breathe her last without seeing 
 her daughter. I hastened down stairs to receive 
 Juliet, and prepare her for the condition in which
 
 ELLEJf PEECT; OE, THE MEJI0IE3 OF AN ACTEE83. 
 
 367 
 
 ehe might expect to find her mother. She had 
 arrived alone, — Lord Frederick having remained at 
 Eiver House, because, as Juliet said, he feared 
 that bis presence might be an embarrassment in 
 an habitation which already contained so many 
 persons, and to which illness had introduced 
 itself. 
 
 Mr. Iforman — who, having shared Mary Glent- 
 worth's vigil during the earlier part of the night, 
 bad retired to lie down for an hour or two in com- 
 pliance with the earnest wishes of his wife— rose 
 on hearing the equipage stop ; so that first of all 
 there was an affecting meeting between the 
 father and daughter, before a still mure affecting 
 meeting took place between the mother and 
 daughter. Juliet, who was devotedly attached to 
 both her parents, was well-nigh overwhelmed with 
 grief when she was received in her mother's arms. 
 Mrs. Korman asked her if she were happy with 
 her husband Lord Frederick — and Juliet declared, 
 with an unmbtakable sincerity, that she was far 
 happier than at the outset she had dared hope to 
 be, considering all antecedent circumstances. 
 
 " Do not weep for me, my dearest child !" said 
 Mrs. JTorman; "nor you, my dear husband ! — nor 
 you, my sweet Ellen ! Sooner or later death must 
 have laid his hand upon me : it is the lot of us all : 
 — we are in the world condemned to die from our 
 birth, but with reprieves of a greater or lesser 
 length." 
 
 There is something most profoundly affecting in 
 the soft sweet language which flows from the lips 
 of the dying one who is resigned : it is imbued 
 with an indescribable pathos — and the tears which 
 it calls forth, flow softly but in abundance. So 
 was it now with Mr. Korman, Juliet, and my- 
 self. 
 
 " I am prepared to die in one sense," said Mrs. 
 Norman, '•' though I have not the gratification of 
 being enabled to proclaim that my religious duties 
 have been very closely attended to. But still, if I 
 have never done much good, I can lay xaj hand 
 upon my heart and declare I have never done 
 any harm." 
 
 " Ifot done much good, my dearest wife ?" said 
 the weeping Mr. !Norman. " Oh, yes ! you have 
 done good ! When did you ever hear a tale of 
 distress without dropping a tear of sympathy and 
 administering succour P If any poor actor or 
 actress has required assistance, you have been one 
 of the very first to volunteer your aid. You have 
 never paused to reflect whether at the time we 
 could afford to give — but you have given ! Be- 
 lieve me, my dear wife, that charity such as you 
 have shown is more than an equivalent for many 
 prayers omitted ; and good deeds will avail in the 
 merciful consideration of the Eternal !" 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Norman ; " I have endea- 
 Toured to do my duty. Though reared, so to 
 speak, by my parents to a profession which the 
 world is in general too much in the habit of decry- 
 injr, I have never done anything that now renders 
 my conscience uneasy. When young, I resisted 
 all temptations to go astray ; and during the long 
 years of my married life the tongue of slander has 
 never dared breathe a syllable against my name. 
 It is thus with a sense o^ all duties fulfilled, that 
 I am tranquil in my last hours— and I shall die in 
 peace, surrounded by those whom 1 love !" 
 
 This was the language that flowed ia so inef- 
 
 fably touching a strain from the lips of Mrs. Nor- 
 man, and which called forth so much soft abun- 
 dant weeping from the eyes of her husband, het 
 daughter, and myself. After a little while the in- 
 valid slept : Mr. Norman, yielding to the interces- 
 sions of Juliet and myself, retired to his chamber ; 
 and we two kept watch in that room. 
 
 The day dawned — the physician came — and it 
 was now his duty to declare that there was not 
 the slightest hope. His patient, he said, might 
 linger on for several hours; but her recovery was 
 impossible. Those to whom she was dear, thus 
 made up their minds to lose her shortly : but in 
 spite of thus knowing the worst, we all felt how 
 sad the bereavement would be. The day passed ; 
 and when night came again, Mary Glentworth in- 
 sisted upon watching by the invalid's couch for 
 the first few hours. Mr. Norman, Juliet, and 
 myself would fain have tarried there likewise : but 
 Mrs. Norman besought us to seek some repose. 
 We yielded to her wishes, — Beda however being 
 instructed to summon us at four in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 We were called according to that mandate ; and 
 then we insisted that Mary Glentworth should in 
 her turn retire to her chamber. Not long had 
 Mr. Norman, Juliet, and I been in the sick room 
 on this occasion, when the sad conviction was 
 forced upon us that our mournful duty would soon 
 be ended. Mrs. Norman was rapidly sinking. 
 The physician was sent for ; though, alas ! we all 
 knew that his presence there would be vain and 
 futile. It was a sad, sad scene ! Juliet, with her 
 face bent downward, and her long tresses flowing 
 in disorder, was weeping bitterly : I also was 
 weeping — as was likewise Mr. Norman. The last 
 moment of the departing one was nearer than we 
 had even anticipated. We had sent, as I have 
 just said, for the physician : we now at length 
 sent likewise to summon Mary Glentworth ; for 
 we knew that the kind-hearted girl would wish to 
 be present to bid a last adieu to her whom she 
 had already watched over so tenderly. But before 
 either the medical man came or Mary had de- 
 scended from her chamber, all was over— Mrs. 
 Norman bad breathed her last ! 
 
 I will not dwell upon the affliction which this 
 event diffused throughout the house : it can be 
 better imagined than described. Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe was summoned from Dover, and im- 
 mediately on his arrival, he expressed his desire to 
 attend the funeral of his mother-in-law. AH the 
 leading members of the theatrical profession, in- 
 cluding the metropolitan managers, wrote to Mr. 
 Norman to convey their condolence, and to ascer- 
 tain whether it would gratify him that by follow- 
 ing the obsequies they might testify their esteem 
 for the memory of the deceased. But Mrs. Nor- 
 man had expressed a desire that the funeral should 
 be conducted with as much simplicity as possible ; 
 and therefore it was comparatively a private one. 
 
 When some days had elapsed after the mourn- 
 ful ceremony, I asked Juliet if she had as yet 
 heard anything from her father's lips to afford her 
 an idea uf what his own plans might now be ? She 
 spoke to him on the subject ; and through her 
 medium ho conveyed to me au affectionate and 
 delicate intimation that we must now separate. 
 He said that it went to his very soul to part from 
 me; but that as he was now a widower, with no
 
 368 
 
 EIXEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 female relative to take charge of bis household, he 
 could not any longer give me the home which I | 
 could consistently accept. Indeed, the necessity I 
 for this separation I had foreseen. I was no rela- 1 
 tion to Mr. Norman : the world is ever too prone | 
 to be scandalous in the view which it takes of j 
 private affairs, and particularly in those which re- 
 late to persons of our profession. In short, my I 
 reputation required that I should now seek an- j 
 other home. As for Mr. Norman himself, he in- i 
 tended to break up bis establishment in Hunter | 
 Street — to sell bis carriage and the greater portion j 
 of his furniture— and lo repair to the Continent 
 for awhile, that in change of scene he might suc- 
 ceed in mitigating the poignancy of his affliction. 
 He might have found a home at Eiver House : 
 but he preferred to be altogether alone, and to re- 
 main abroad for a season. 
 
 My own plan was therefore now speedily settled. 
 I had a home to provide for myself and Mary 
 Glentworth, who was to me as a sister. I received 
 the kindest letters from the Marchioness of Cam- 
 panella and the Countess of Carboni, begging me 
 to reside with them ; and likewise a letter from 
 the Countess of Belgrave (better known as Lady 
 Cecilia Urban) offering me a home at her man- 
 sion; but these proposals I gratefully declined. I 
 took a moderate-sized but very comfortable house 
 in Great Ormond Street ; and I purchased all the 
 furniture of which Mr. Norman thought fit to dis- 
 pose. The remainder of his furniture he consigned 
 to a warehouse, that it might be available for a 
 small suite of rooms or chambers on his return to 
 England. The day for parting came : it was an 
 affecting scene ; and I will not dwell upon it. Mr. 
 Norman accompanied Lord and Lady Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe on their way to Eiver House, where he 
 was to pass a day or two previous to setting out 
 for the Continent ; and at the same time Mary 
 Glentworth and I took possession of our new 
 abode. 
 
 I retained in my own service three of the 
 female domestics who had been for a considerable 
 period in the service of the Normans ; and I need 
 scarcely add that my faithful Beda remained with 
 me, I purchased a plain carriage, of that descrip- 
 tion which is known as a brougham, to be drawn 
 by only one horse: I retained Mr. Norman's 
 coachman, whom I placed on board wages — for I 
 did not purpose to have any man-servant living in 
 the house. In a few days all the arrangements 
 were perfected, and I thus entered as it were upon 
 a new mode of existence. 
 
 I had proposed to my father to take up his 
 abode with me altogether : but he had strenuously 
 refused, and in a manner which prevented me 
 from pressing the offer, inasmuch as it would only 
 have driven him into painful and humiliating ex- 
 planations. Although he was pardoned and was 
 therefore a free man once more, yet he never lost 
 sight of the infamy with which his past life had 
 branded him; and though, as he now bore the 
 name of Forsyth, he might have passed as my 
 uncle, yet he did not choose to incur the risk of 
 being some day discovered and proclaimed to be 
 my father. He was most delicately apprehensive 
 lest my interests should suffer on his account, and 
 therefore he said to me, " No, my dear child — I 
 cannot live with you: but I shall see you fre- 
 quently," 
 
 I had given him a complete description of all 
 that had occurred at Leeds : but it was not until 
 I was fully settled in ray new home that we deli- 
 berated seriously upon the course that ought to be 
 adopted in order to bring Mr. Parks to justice— or 
 rather, I should say, in the first instance to dis- 
 cover whether he really had been the accomplice 
 of his mother's heinous crime. We revolved seve- 
 ral projects : but one only seemed to present any 
 feasibility. This was a scheme which I suggested 
 should be undertaken by Beda and myself: but I 
 postponed it for a brief space through a literal 
 sense of want of energy to carry it out. The 
 death of Mrs. Norman had made a very powerful 
 impression upon me, and had dispirited me to an 
 extent from which I could not very readily re- 
 cover. I required complete tranquillity, rest, and 
 seclusion for a short period; and my father, who 
 was apprehensive lest my health should suffer by 
 any immediate cause of excitement, supported my 
 view in postponing for a little while the enter- 
 prise to which I have alluded. 
 
 I should observe that I first of all thought of 
 communicating to Zarah — or, as I ought to call 
 her, Mrs. St. Clair— the grave suspicion which I 
 entertained that some of her grandmother's 
 poisoned lozenges had a few years back found 
 their way into the possession of a certain Mrs. 
 Parks at Leeds : but I knew full well that Zarah 
 would only entreat me not to take any step which 
 might threaten to compromise her grandmother, 
 and that she would be sure to withhold any assist- 
 ance that might possibly tend to that result. There- 
 fore, on second consideration, I resolved to say 
 nothing to Mrs. St. Clair on the subject — but to 
 act for myself. My mind had been made up to 
 suffer no personal considerations of any kind to 
 prevent me from avenging the foul murder of my 
 grandfather. So long as it was my own life 
 or security which had at any time been jeopar- 
 dized through the machinations or agency of old 
 Dame Betty, I was free to act as I thought fit in 
 shielding that woman for Zarah's sake: but now 
 the case was very different. It was the life of an- 
 other which had been taken — and that other a 
 near relative of my own, — he to whom I was in* 
 debted for a paternal care during the years of my 
 infancy and childhood ! Therefore was I resolute 
 in performing the duty which providence itself had 
 seemed by a variety of circumstances to have 
 specially confided unto me. 
 
 Two months had elapsed since the death of Mrs. 
 Norman ; during the latter month I had returned 
 to the stage ; and my health was now completely 
 restored after the shock it had sustained. I re- 
 solved to allow yet another month to elapse before 
 taking the steps which I had arranged in my 
 mind ; for at the expiration of that interval I 
 knew that I should have an entire week to dis- 
 pose of as I might think fit. Mary Glentworth 
 always accompanied me to the theatre, and occu- 
 pied one of the stage-boxes during the perform- 
 ance. She was however generally attended by 
 Beda, who was almost as much enraptured with 
 the dramatic proceedings as Mary herself. I did 
 not altogether like giving this sort of encourage- 
 ment to what I more than half suspected to be 
 Mary Glentworth's increasing taste for the stage : 
 but I scarcely knew how to act in an opposite 
 sense. She was of my own ag«, and had as much
 
 ELLEN FERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 369 
 
 FELICIA GOWER, 
 
 right to ba her own mistress as I had: and 
 though she certainly looked up to rae as if I had 
 been an elder sister, yet I could scarcely avail my. 
 self of this influence which I exercised for any 
 purpose of coercion. As for gentle suasion, I 
 could of course essay it if she should consult me 
 on any serious project that she might form in re- 
 ference to the stage ; but I did not choose to initi- 
 ate the subject — for that would have been only to 
 bring to an immediate issue a matter which she 
 might still be induced to keep at a distance. 
 
 One day Mary (Jllentworth went out shopping 
 in the carriage, I being compelled to attend a long 
 rehearsal at the theatre at the time. She was to 
 return and fetch me ; but she was half-an-hour 
 later than the appointment that she had made— 
 although this mattered little, for I myself was de- 
 No. 47.— Ellen Pebct. 
 
 tained by my professional avocations longer than X 
 had anticipated) A message was sent up to in- 
 form rae that Mary was waiting ; and in a fev# 
 minutes I joined her. Immediately on entering 
 the carriage, it struck me that there was a certain 
 agitation in Mary's manner — an excitement in her 
 looks — a heightened colour of the countenance. I 
 at once asked her if anything had occurred ? — and 
 she exclaimed, " Oh, my dear Ellen ! I have been 
 so insulted ! But on the other hand, I have ex- 
 perienced such chivalrous conduct from such a 
 nice young gentleman !" 
 
 "Insulted, my poor Mary?" I ejaculated. "And 
 who dared to insult you ?" 
 
 " I will tell you everything that has happened," 
 replied Miss Glentworth. " You remember I told 
 you that I wanted to purchase some French books;
 
 370 
 
 EILEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 aud you bade me go to a sbop in Eegent Street. 
 I could there only obtain two or three volumes of 
 the half-dozen different works that I required : 
 but the shop-keeper told me that I should very 
 likely find the others at an establishment in the 
 Burlington Arcade, To the Burlington Aveade | 
 accordingly went ; and I proceeded to the skop.. 
 There however I failed to procure the books : but 
 the shopkeeper promised to get them for me from 
 Paris in the course of the week. 1 had never before 
 been to the Burlington Arcade : I therefore walked 
 slowly to the end, looking at the diffejjent shops. 
 "While thus engaged, I was accosted by an old lady, 
 who was very handsomely dressed, though with 
 more showiness than taste ; and she asked me if I 
 could tell her where dwelt some countess whom 
 she named— but I forget what name it was; for 
 I quickly assured her that I myself was almost a 
 stranger in London, and that I had no titled ac- 
 quaintances. She seemed anxious to engage me 
 in conversation ; and as she was very kini in her 
 manner, and seemed very lady-like, % could uot 
 hurry off— though I had borne in vapid your in- 
 junction never to form the acquaintauc© of stjcoa- 
 gers in the street." 
 
 "By all means, Mary," I esclaiaied, "never 
 forget that injunction!— for you do not know hovj; 
 many designing persons there are in London, and 
 what false hearts are concealed under fair faces 
 and gaudy vesture. But continue your nac- 
 rative." 
 
 " This old lady," proceeded Mary Glentworth, 
 " began to inform me that she also was a strangeii 
 in London— that she possessed a splendid country 
 seat in Yorkshire— that she had come up to town 
 for a few weeks — that she bad taken a beautiful 
 ready furnished house — and that she was now 
 going to caH upon this countssa whota she had 
 named. She added that the countess was the 
 widow of some great earl and a very intimate friend 
 of hers. She said that she had given bejj coachman 
 a holiday, and that this was the reason she was 
 on foot at the time, and thus seeking her way to 
 her noble lady-friend's mansion. She said that 
 she should be delighted to sea me at her own 
 house, for she liked my looks and had taken a great 
 fancy to me." 
 
 " But you did not believe her, Mary ?" I ex- 
 claimed, convinced that it was some vile designing 
 wretch whom my unsophisticated friend had en- 
 countered. 
 
 "Indeed I did!" replied Mary iagenuously : 
 "for her look was so composed and her discourse 
 so natural, that I set her down to be a lady worth 
 at least five or ten thousand a year. And she had 
 nn enormous brooch, all studded with diamonds ; 
 and she took off her glove— and her fingers were 
 covered with rings, likewise set with such beauti- 
 ful diamonds " 
 
 " Pieces of glass, Mary!" I ejaculated: "gems 
 as false as her own seductive language ! But pray 
 proceed." 
 
 "I must confess that the old lady produced 
 such an impression on my mind," continued Miss 
 Glentworth, " that I really pitied her on account 
 uf having given her coachman a holiday, and being 
 rondemned to walk to the mansion of her friend 
 Iho countess. So I was almost inclined to offer 
 her a seat in the carriage, when she suddenly 
 ilirectcd my attention to an elderly gentleman 
 
 who was looking in a shop window at a Itlle dis- 
 tance : and she said, • There ! that is the Marquis 
 of Tynedale!'" 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated. "I have seen that noble- 
 man — I have heard likewise of his charac- 
 ter— r-r-" 
 
 '*And it is infamous, is it not .5^" inquired 
 Ma>rJ^ ; "for he said such rude things to mo " 
 
 " luf^uious ittdaed !" I esclaimcd. "But, good 
 heavens i how indiscreet you must have been ! 
 Tell me how it kaf pened ?" 
 
 "Praj da aot blame me, Ellon," said Mary, 
 taking my h^iid ^d pressing it; "for you will 
 see that it wa/St uot my fault. The Marquis ac- 
 costed the old lady, to whom he made a very 
 familiar bow; and then I turned away. A few 
 moments afterwards the Marquis of Tynedale was 
 by my side ; and ho at once endeavoured to get 
 into conversation with me. I stopped short — 
 looked him fuU ia the foce — aud told him that I 
 did not converse with strangers. But he perso- 
 yei;ad in addressiQg me : ks began speaking of uiy 
 good looks— told me that bo was rich and a 
 
 widower in a word, 5ilen, he said such things 
 
 that J felt my cheeks glowing with blushes; and 
 though I hurried along the arcade I could not rid 
 myself of him. At length I again stopped short, 
 and assured him that i£ he did not at once leave 
 me I would appeal to the first person who might 
 approach. At that very instant a young gentle- 
 man was issuing from the very bookseller's shop 
 where I had recently been ; and catching the 
 words that fell from my lips, he approached and 
 asked if he could render me any assistance? — 
 ' Oh,' said the Maiquis o£ Tyiiedale, ' it is no- 
 thing ! This young lady and I understand each 
 other very well ; aud with a little more private 
 conversation we shall make our peace together.' — 
 The young genllemaa evidently comprehended 
 that I was being insulted ; and he said in a firm 
 voice, ' The young lady shall decide for herself, 
 whether she will remain with you, my lord ' (for 
 hfi evidently knew the Marquis), ' or whether she 
 will permit me to escort her out of the arcade.' — 
 'Ob, a thousand thanks i' I exclaimed : ' I wish to 
 be rid of the importunities of this rude noble- 
 man !' — Thereupon the Marquis of Tynedale 
 turned upon his heel, and moved off, muttering 
 something, I said a few hurried words of thanks 
 to the young gentleman: ho bowed courteously — i 
 and we separated. That, dear Ellen, is the his- 
 tory of my adventure." 
 
 "Do you not comprehend, Mary," I asked, 
 " that the female whom you took to be a respect- 
 able lady, was really a bad character— and that it 
 was because you bad remained in convcrsatioa 
 with her, she took you to be a simple country girl, 
 and gave the Marquis of Tynedale some hurried 
 hint which emboldened him to persecute you as 
 he did ? It was fortunate that you received such 
 chivalrous succour : for even in the most crowded 
 thoroughfares of London, and in the broad day- 
 light, young females are sometimes persecuted and 
 insulted by such wretches as that Marquis. Por 
 the future I beseech you to be more guarded !" 
 
 "I will, dearest Ellen," replied Mary: "it shall 
 be a lesson to me. But that young gentleman 
 who acted so well and so kindly — he was exceed- 
 ingly handsome — his manners were most amiable 
 —and he was dressed with what may be termed the
 
 ELLEN PET?CT; OE, THE ME:M0I11S 01? AH ACTEESS. 
 
 371 
 
 most elegant simplicity. I think I have seen him 
 in a box at the theatre— but I am not certain," 
 
 " He showed the delicacy of his feelings," I ob- 
 served, " by leaving you the instant his presence 
 was no longer required." 
 
 The incident which I have been relating, left a 
 somewhat painful impression on ray mind ; for it 
 afforded another proof of Mary Grlentworth's art- 
 lessness and inexperience ; and I thought to my- 
 self, " She requires a mother's care !" 
 
 I however resolved to let her go about alono as 
 little as possible; for though I knew her to be 
 virtuous and well principled, yet her exceeding 
 innocence was calculated to blind her eyes to the 
 pitfalls which in the modern Babylon are spread 
 by designing persons at the feet of the unsuspect- 
 ing. It was not however so easy for me to ac- 
 company her continuously whenever she went out ; 
 for at tiroes when my presence was needed at re- 
 hearsal, she would have some little shopping to do 
 — and I could not possibly treat her so completely 
 as a child as to request her to remain until I could 
 go with her. Thus, at the expiration of a week, 
 she again went alone to the Burlington Arcade, 
 to fetch the books which were expected from Paris. 
 Indeed, on several occasions within the next two 
 or three weeks she was left to herself for an hour 
 ) or two at a time ; and all that I could do was to 
 I give her an occasional hint upon the necessity of 
 being most cautious in her conduct towards 
 strangers, and by all means to avoid suffering her- 
 self to bo drawn into conversation by persons 
 whom she might accidentally meet. 
 
 It now wanted a week to the termination of the 
 third month since Mrs. Norman's death ; and the 
 time was approaching when I was resolved to 
 enter upon my project for the discovery of whether 
 1 Mr. Parks had been an accomplice iu his mother's 
 crime— at least if it were possible to make that 
 discovery at all. I now consulted with Beda : I 
 admitted the faithful girl into my confidence ; and 
 I I asked her advice how we could best ascertain 
 1 whether Dame Betty was then at her cottage on 
 the road between Birmingham and Embledon ? — 
 for I did not wish to have the trouble of under- 
 taking an expedition into Warwickshire for no- 
 thing. 
 
 " I can think of no other means," replied Beda, 
 " than that I myself should set off into "Warwick- 
 shire and ascertain the point. This I can do pri- 
 vately, without suffering the old woman to have 
 the slightest suspicion that I am even in lihe 
 neighbourhood— much less that I am instituting 
 inquiries concerning her." 
 
 " You are a good girl, Beda," I said : " but I 
 do not like the idea of your travelling alone, or of 
 exposing yourself to tho possible malignity of that 
 old wretch." 
 
 " Ob, my dear Miss !" exclaimed Beda, " you 
 need not harbour the slightest apprehension on 
 my account. As for travelling alone, no one 
 would dare insult mo ; for I would very soon con- 
 vince tho most self-sufEcient individual that be 
 had better attend to his own business. And as 
 for the old dame herself, I fear her not !" 
 
 " Well then, Beda," I said, " you shall go : and 
 immediately on ascertaining that the dame is at 
 the cottage, you can write to me, and I will join 
 you. If it be otherwise, you will at once return 
 to London." 
 
 " But suppose, my dear Miss Percy," said Beda, 
 " that Dame Betty should not bo at her cottage in 
 Warwickshire, and that I should obtain a clue to 
 her whereabouts in any other district, — am I to 
 follow up that clue ?" 
 
 " I leave the entire matter, Beda, to your own 
 discretion," I answered. " At all events you will 
 write to me, so that I shall not experience any 
 uneasiness on your account :— and with this un- 
 derstanding you will act according to circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Beda's preparations for the journey were 
 promptly made ; and she set out upon her ex- 
 pedition. I bad already given Mary Glcntworth 
 an insight into tho matter which was thus inte- 
 resting me ; so that she was not sui-prised to find 
 that I sent off my young attendant on this jour- 
 ney. I accompanied Beda to the railway-station, 
 — Mary having remained at home in Great 
 Ormon'd Street on account of a severe headach. 
 When I had seen Beda depart, I repaired in my 
 carriage to Portland Place, where I had some in- 
 structions to give to my milliner, who resided 
 there. I remembered to have read, in the news- 
 paper of the preceding day, of some very curious 
 scientific invention which was being exhibited at 
 the Polytechnic Institution; and as I found myself 
 in that neighbourhood, with an hour's leisure upon 
 my hands, I resolved to visit the place. It was in 
 the afternoon ; and there were many persons as- 
 sembled at the Institution, — several of them being 
 of consequence, as the carriages waiting at the 
 door indicated. As I was walking through tho 
 galleries, stopping almost every minute to con- 
 template some fresh object of interest, I suddenly 
 heard ray name mentioned ; and I was imme- 
 diately accosted by the Marquis of Dalrymplc. I 
 treated the young nobleman with a friendly affa- 
 bility : for be it recollected that the overtures he 
 had some time past made to me were of the most 
 honourable description— and he had rendered mo 
 a signal service by procuring for me an admission 
 to his mother's masked ball on the occasion when 
 I was so anxious to warn Lady Cecilia Urban 
 agf.inst an alliance with Lord Frederick Ravens- 
 cliffe. A considerable period had elapsed since I 
 had last seen the young Marquis otherwise than 
 at the theatre ; and it now occurred to me that ho 
 was not looking quite so well as formerly. His 
 countenance was pale ; and though it was far from 
 having a haggard look, it was what the French 
 would term an expression of fatigue, as if through 
 the lingering effect of recent illness or of dissipa- 
 tion: but I could not for a moment think that it 
 was the latter. 
 
 " I believe, my lord," I said, after the exchange 
 of a few observations, "that the Duke and Duchess 
 have gone upon the Continent. I had the honour 
 of seeing their G-races at Dover some few months 
 
 back " 
 
 " Yes," replied tho Marquis ; " they are in Italy 
 
 but I did not choose to accompany thera. To 
 
 tell you the truth, my father is intolerable, with 
 his friend Peaseblossom and his cracked violins ; 
 and my mother gets more domineering every day. 
 Instead of allowing me greater license in propor- 
 tion as I gi'ew older, she seems to think it all the 
 moro necessary to keep mo in leading-strings. So 
 at tho last moment, just when she had settled 
 everything for our departure to the Continent, I
 
 372 
 
 EILEW PEROT; OB, THB MEMOIHS OF AN ACTEES8. 
 
 rebelled against her mandates, to her infinite sur- 
 prise !" 
 
 "Your lordship did not wish to go upon the 
 Continent ?" I said, somewhat astonished at the 
 strain in which he was speaking. 
 
 " If I went, it should be alone, or at least with 
 some agreeable companion of my own choosing," 
 he replied. "But to be constantly annoyed with 
 my father's frivolities— and to find myself treated 
 as a child by my mother — jou must admit, Miss 
 Percy, that this would not have been very agree- 
 able ! So I said pointblank I would not go upon 
 the Continent. My mother flew into a rage— but 
 it was all useless : I was proof against reproaches, 
 threats, and entreaties. I carried my point, and 
 remained in London by myself ; while all the rest of 
 the family have been passing the winter in Italy." 
 
 " I thought perhaps," I said, " that indisposi- 
 tion might have kept you in London ?" 
 
 " Indisposition ?" exclaimed the Marquis : " no- 
 thing of the kind ! I never was better in my life ! 
 Bat perhaps you think I look ill ? Now, the truth 
 is, I was up the best part of the night, with half- 
 a dozen gay fellows, at the Club. We had a din- 
 n?r there— and I am afraid we kept it up a little 
 more than was strictly consistent with prudence. 
 Ah ! that is the bell for the lecture which is about 
 to commence ! It is a very slow affair— and there- 
 fore I shall not attend it." 
 
 " In that case, my lord, I must wish you good 
 afternoon : for I intend to hear the lecture." 
 
 I bowed, and passed away somewhat hastily ; 
 for I was not altogether pleased with the manner 
 and discourse of the young Marquis of Dalrymple. 
 It seemed to me that he had lost much of that 
 ingenuous frankness and amiability of manner 
 which used to characterize him— that he was being 
 gradually drawn into the vortex of fashionable dis- 
 sipation—and that he was even already much 
 changed and partially spoilt by the incipient con- 
 tamination. He had spoken contemptuously of 
 his father and rebelliously of his mother, — which I 
 felt convinced he would not for worlds have done 
 a twelvemonth back. I had now little doubt that 
 the paleness of his countenance was the effect of 
 the different life he was leading ; and though his 
 demeanour had been replete with the most gentle- 
 manly courtesy towards myself during this brief 
 interview, I felt pained and even distressed at 
 the conviction that the young Marquis had ceased 
 to be what he once was. I had always regarded 
 Lim with a friendly feeling : a more tender senti- 
 ment I was incapable of experiencing towards 
 him :— but I had felt interested in his welfare 
 through the belief that his character was most 
 estimable and his disposition most excellent. I 
 was therefore grieved when the conviction was 
 now forced upon my mind that both stood a 
 chance of being impaired— perhaps ruined — by the 
 new course of life on which he was entering. 
 
 I had not really intended to be present at the 
 lecture : I had merely seized upon the pretext as 
 a means of breaking off the conversation and se- 
 parating from the Marquis. I therefore deemed 
 it expedient to repair to the lecture-room for fear 
 I should again meet him anywhere in the build- 
 ing, in which case he might be led to fancy that I 
 had adopted a pretence to leave him abruptly : for 
 though my opinion of him was changed, yet I did 
 not wish to wound his feelings. The lecture-room 
 
 was already crowded when I entered it : but room 
 was speedily made for me — and I took my seat 
 amongst some ladies on one of the front benches. 
 Immediately behind us there were three or four 
 young gentlemen who had evidently come more 
 for the sake of whiling away the time than of hear- 
 ing the lecture ; for they conversed amongst them- 
 selves throughout the proceedings. At first I 
 found myself sufficiently interested in the lecture 
 to devote my entire attention to it : but after a 
 little while this attention was drawn into another 
 channel, as I could not help overhearing some part 
 of the conversation that was taking place behind 
 me. 
 
 "What was that you were saying, Ormond ?" 
 inquired one of the young gentlemen to whom I 
 am alluding. 
 
 "Ob, I was only observing to Trevelyan," re- 
 plied the one who was addressed by the name of 
 Ormond, " that young Dalrymple has come out 
 strong since his parents went abroad." 
 
 " Well, and why should he not P" ejaculated the 
 one whose name appeared to be Trevelyan. " Ho 
 has got plenty of money at his disposal : he would 
 be a fool not to enjoy himself and make the most 
 of all opportunities. He is not to be tied to the 
 apron strings of the Duchess all his life. For my 
 part, I think he has shown his spirit in severing 
 those bonds." 
 
 " Of course !" said the gentleman, who had first 
 spoken : " my opinion is precisely the same ! We 
 all know that the Duchess is a very imperious, 
 self-willed woman ; and for a long time past she 
 has been persecuting Herbert to settle in mar- 
 riage. But he seems to have no such inclina- 
 tion " 
 
 " On the contrary," interjected Ormond. " I 
 think he is like us all — rather volatile in our 
 tastes and our amours. At all events 'But 
 mind ! the affair is a secret ! for I don't want to, 
 spoil any friend's game, you know " 
 
 "' Well, what is it ?" inquired Trevelyan. 
 
 " Ob, only the other day," proceeded Ormond, 
 " I saw Dalrymple walking in a street at the 
 West End, with as pretty a young creature as you 
 could wish to set eyes upon. I could tell that it 
 was a stealthy meeting — for the girl looked 
 frightened — she kept flinging anxious glances 
 around, as if she feared to be observed by some 
 one who might know her " 
 
 " I dare say it was all a trick on her part," in- 
 terjected Trevelyan, "just to enhance the value of 
 the favour she pretended to bo showing Dal- 
 rymple." 
 
 " And I am convinced it was nothing of the 
 sort," rejoined Ormond j "for she was decidedly a 
 young lady: her dress— her manners— her appear- 
 ance, all bespoke it ! Of course I did not accost 
 Dalrymple while he was so pleasantly engaged : 
 neither did he observe that I was watching hiin. 
 Eest assured that it is a pretty little intrigue he 
 has got in hand; and therefore what with this 
 love-affair, and the way in which he drinks his 
 wine like any one of us, and loses his money like a 
 man at the card- table, it is quite clear that he is 
 determined to make up for lost time." 
 
 " I used to think him a regular milksop some 
 time ago," observed Trevelyan : " but of late he 
 has wonderfully risen in my estimation. We shall 
 make something of him after all."
 
 The young gentlemen novr changed their con- 
 versatiou to some other subject ; and shortly after* 
 wards the lecture terminated. I hastened to my 
 carriage, and ordered the coachman to take me 
 home. I was much distressed at the conQrmation 
 I had received of mj previously awakened sus- 
 picions in respect to the altered character and dis- 
 position of the Marquis of Dalrymple. It was 
 only too evident that he was entering upon that 
 path which could not fail to lead to the destruc- 
 tion of all the high feelings, magnanimous notions, 
 and generous sentiments which he had once so 
 eminently possessed. I had lenrnt sufBcient to 
 show that he was already dissipated in respect to 
 wine— an incipient gambler — and I feared a se- 
 ducer. How changed from what he was when 
 first I knew him ! — when he made mo overtures of 
 marriage with unquestionably the most honour- 
 able intentions — when he had taken the part of 
 myself and the other performers on the night that 
 we were to be consigned to a separate and inferior 
 supper-table at Ardleigh House — or, subsequently, 
 when he had in so delicate a manner farthered my 
 projects by procuring my admission at the masked 
 ball ! No wonder, therefore, that I grieved to 
 contemplate the prospect of a young man, natu- 
 rally endowed with such excellent qualities, becom- 
 ing tainted — contaminated — and perhaps ruined, 
 by the infection of fashionable vices ! 
 
 At the very moment I was alighting froo; the 
 carriage at my own door in Great Ormond Street, 
 I beheld a gentleman approaching, whom I thought 
 that I knew. I glanced at him a second time ; and 
 I recognised Mr. Gower, the parent of the young 
 lady to whom Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe was 
 paying his addresses at the time when I and my 
 father adopted such strenuous measures to compel 
 him to do an act of justice by espousing Juliet. 
 I was surprised to find Mr. Gower in London j 
 for when I had seen him in Stratton Street, nearly 
 six months back, he had informed me that it was 
 his intention almost immediately to leave for ever 
 a city where so fearful a blight had fallen upon 
 his child's happiness. And now as I thus glanced 
 at him a second time, I was not merely struck 
 but even shocked by the change which had taken 
 place in his appearance. "When I had seen him 
 in Stratton Street he was a portly, fine-looking 
 man, with a florid complexion : he now looked 
 thin in comparison — pale likewise — and his form 
 was bowed as if with grief. He walked with the 
 air of one who had the deep sense of much afflic- 
 tion. I did not like to accost him ; and I was 
 just turning to enter the house, when he recog- 
 nised me and gave utterance to my name, 
 
 " Ah ! is it you. Miss Trafford .''" he said : and 
 he contemplated me with a look that seemed full 
 of mournful reproach. 
 
 " Will you walk in and rest yourself?" I courte- 
 ously asked : for I thought that ho might probably 
 wish to speak to mc of his daughter Felicia. 
 
 He accepted the invitation without saying a 
 word ; and I conducted him into the dining-room, 
 where Mary Glentworth was never in the habit of 
 sitting in the afternoon part of the day, and where 
 I consequently knew that we should be alone to- 
 gether. Mr. Gower sat down with the air of a 
 man who was fatigued, — not worn out with much 
 walking, but by the incessant weight of care— that 
 sense of fatigue which is constantly felt when the 
 
 soul has a heavier burden than it can support. I 
 commiserated him profoundly : I likewise expe- 
 rienced an illimitable pity for his daughter : but I 
 could not possibly reproach myself for having 
 taken the step which compelled Lord Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe to bestow the sacred title of toife upon 
 my friend Juliet. 
 
 " Where does lie now reside?" was the question 
 which Mr. Gower abruptly put : and a sinister 
 expression at the same seized upon his altered, 
 haggard countenance. 
 
 I knew full well that he alluded to Lord Frede- 
 rick HavensclifiPe, although ho mentioned no name; 
 and I said, " His lordship resides in peaceful 
 seclusion with his wife, at a house which they 
 possess in the neighbourhood of Dover." 
 
 " Ah ! the villain has done well to leave London, 
 and thus shield himself from my vengeance !" said 
 Mr. Gower, in a deep sombre tone. 
 
 "But surely, my dear sir," I exclaimed, terrified 
 by the words, and even still more by the look 
 which had accompanied them, " you cannot dream 
 of vengeance when so long an interval has oc- 
 curred " 
 
 " My daughter's happiness is for ever ruined. 
 Miss Trafford," interjected the unhappy father 
 with the strongest emphasis. " If for an instant 
 you can in imagination place yourself in my posi- 
 tion But no! the idea is ridiculous! — of 
 
 course you cannot ! Indeed, I must tell you that 
 there have even been times when in my despair I 
 have included your name amongst those of my 
 daughter's enemies !" 
 
 " Your daughter's enemies, Mr. Gower ?" I 
 ejaculated, in astonishment. " She had but one 
 enemy — and that was the man whose name you 
 have mentioned." 
 
 " Perhaps, if I were reasonable, I should admit 
 that you are right," said the unfortunate father: 
 "but I am tiot reasonable!" — and methought 
 that as he thus spoke his eyes had a strange 
 sinister glare. " That patrician villain was my 
 daughter's enemy ! Juliet Worman was likewise 
 her enemy for having taken him from her ! And 
 you. Miss Trafford," he added vehemently, " were 
 her enemy for using the power which you pos- 
 sessed to bring about that catastrophe i" 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Gower !" I exclaimed ; 
 "you cannot possibly be serious!— or at least 
 you cannot fancy yourself to be just in making 
 these sweeping accusations ! For a thousand 
 reasons you are wrong ! My friend Juliet had a 
 prior claim upon Lord Frederick's honour and 
 good faith : I was obeying the dictates of friend- 
 ship in acting as I did; — and moreover, when that 
 young nobleman's true character became known 
 to you, it is impossible that you would have con- 
 sented to bestow your daughter upon him. Da 
 not therefore blame me and Juliet " 
 
 " Farewell, Miss Trafford!" interrupted the un- 
 happy father, rising from his seat. " I told you 
 that I am not reasonable ; and it were bettor there- 
 fore that the question should not be argued be- 
 tween us !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Gjwer abruptly 
 quitted the apartment; and the next instant tho 
 front door closed violently behind him.
 
 3H 
 
 ELLEW PBHCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXrV. 
 
 Ik the morning of tho second day from the inci- 
 denta which I have just been relating, I received 
 two letters. The first was from Beda, — informing 
 me that Dame Betty was not at the cottage in the 
 neighbourhood of Birmingham — that for the pre- 
 sent she had succeeded in obtaining no clue rela- 
 tive to her whereabouts— but that she had put 
 matters in such a train that in the course of a day 
 or two she hoped to receive the intelligence which 
 was required. The other letter was from my friend 
 Juliet ; and its contents ran as follow : — 
 
 " River House, Dover, 
 
 " March 24th, 1842. 
 
 "My dearest Ellen,— Having written to you so 
 very lately, I do not know that I should have so 
 soon taken up my pen again for tho purpose of 
 addressing you, had I not to communicate a piece 
 of information which I am confident will give you 
 pleasure. Frederick has every chance of being 
 reconciled to his parents and his elder brother. 
 Some nnl-Hown friend is at work : but who it is 
 he cannot possibly surmise— and I of course am 
 as completely unable to assist him with a con- 
 jecture. Indeed, the whole affair is involved in a 
 strange mystery— and all the more strange, be- 
 cause inasmuch as mysteries are for the most 
 part ominous, this one seems to be very pro- 
 pitious. I will tell you what has happened ; and 
 you will see how singular but yet how promising 
 the occurrence appears to be. 
 
 " This morning's post brought Frederick a 
 letter, with the handwriting of which he is com- 
 pletely unacquainted. This letter was signed ' An 
 Unknown Feiend.' The hand is a masculine 
 one : the style of tho letter is frank, honest, and 
 evidently the language of a gentleman. It states 
 that the writer has viewed with regret the aliena- 
 tion of Frederick from his family simply on the 
 ground that he has contracted an alliance accord- 
 ing to the dictates of his own heart and to the 
 exclusion of those selfish considerations which too 
 often govern matrimonial unions. The writer de- 
 clares himself to be an old friend of the family, 
 and to possess influence with the Earl and Coun- 
 tess of Carshalton, as well as with Viscount 
 Savenscliflfe, Frederick's elder brother. He says 
 that he has been working in Frederick's interest, 
 and that nothing would afford him greater plea- 
 sure than to be enabled to bring about a recon- 
 ciliation. He thinks that the time has come when 
 this is to be accomplished : but he insists that 
 Frederick shall in all things follow his counsel to 
 the very letter. Should Frederick refuse to be 
 thus docile and obedient — or should he by his own 
 headstrong obstinacy mar the scheme which is set 
 afoot for his benefit — his unknown friend, the 
 writer of the letter, would be desirous to remain 
 still unknown ; because, in such an eventuality, 
 he would incur the risk of losing many friendships 
 which he values amongst the members of Frede- 
 rick's family. He therefore desires that Frederick 
 will go up to London to-morrow ; and at a given 
 hour in the evening he is to be at King's Cross in 
 the New Eoad. There he will learn more. 
 
 " I have now given you ah outline, dearest 
 Ellen, of the contents of this strange letter. Can 
 it be all a scandalous and disgraceful trick ? ^Ye 
 do not think so. Who would play such a trick ? 
 Lord Frederick's friends and acquaintances gene- 
 rally, he assures me, are not men who would con. 
 descend to a jest so stupid or an illusion so cruel. 
 Besides, it is so little known where he is re- 
 siding that it can really be only some one who is 
 within the circle of his father's acquaintance that 
 could have written such a letter. We therefore 
 regard it alike with seriousness and with hope. 
 At all events we both feel that no very great harm 
 can arise from Frederick putting the matter to the 
 test ; and he will accordingly repair to London 
 to-morrow. If he should arrive in time, he will 
 do himself the pleasure of calling upon you and 
 our dear friend Mary. But it is scarcely probable 
 that you will see him until the following day— 
 when he will be enabled to report to you the issue 
 of his appointment, whether real or fictitious, at 
 King's Cross. I candidly confess that for my part 
 I have every hope; and in this feeling Frederick 
 shares. I pray to God that it may be realized !— • 
 for you know how well Frederick has behaved to 
 me since our marriage, and how he has sought to 
 obliterate from my mind the impression of all his 
 former misdeeds. 
 
 "I received yesterday a letter from my dear 
 father, who is still at the cottage where ho has 
 secluded himself in the neighbourhood of Brussels. 
 He assures me that his health is excellent and that 
 his spirits are improving: he adds that in a week 
 or two he intends to proceed into Germany ; and 
 his present intention is to return to England in 
 the middle of the summer. He says that he sliall 
 again write to you shortly; and in the meantime 
 he desires me to convey everything kind on his 
 behalf alike to yourself and our dear Mary. 
 
 " Believe me to remain, my beloved friend, 
 "Tour's ever affectionately, 
 
 " Juliet Eayensclipfb." 
 
 "Then it is to day that Lord Frederick comes 
 to London," I said to myself when I had con- 
 cluded the perusal of Juliet's letter; "and it is 
 this evening that he is to hold his mysterious ap- 
 pointment at King's Cross — unless indeed it be all 
 a trick and a delusion 1" 
 
 I must confess that the description of the lei tor 
 signed by an nnJcnown friend struck me as being 
 most singular — indeed even suspicious. It was 
 natural enough that Lord and Lady Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe, anxious to obtain the recognition by 
 the Carshalton family of their marriage, should 
 clutch with avidity at the first straw of hope which 
 might seem to float towards them. But I was 
 enabled to sarvey the matter somewhat more dis- 
 passionately ; and I was not therefore so sanguine 
 on their behalf as thoy fnemselves were. For a 
 moment my thoughts settled upon Melissa Harri- 
 son as the authoress of the trick, if a trick it 
 really were ; because I knew how passionately 
 Melissa had at one time loved Lord Frederick, 
 and she might not have forgiven him for having 
 abandoned her when the explosion in respect to 
 the Marquis of Tynedale's cheque took place. 
 ITeverthelsss, after a little reflection, I banished 
 that idea : for I felt tolerably well assured that 
 Melissa was of a different disposition. Profligate
 
 and depraved she might have become— but vinr 
 dictive ebe was not : and as for dovoting herself 
 to the execution of any such absurd trick as this, 
 I could not reconcile mj mind to that belief. Be- 
 sides, even if she were acquainted with Iiord Fror 
 derick's present place of ab )de, how bad she learnt 
 that be was not reconciled to bis parents, but had 
 vainly sought for that reconciliation ? Thus, all 
 things considered, I came to the conclusion that 
 Melissa had nothing to do with the matter ; and 
 I sincerely hoped for Juliet's sake, her husband 
 might find it was a genuine qnd straightforward 
 proceeding. I showed the letter to ilary Glent. 
 worth ; and she, with her characteristic artlessness, 
 at once proclaimed her couyictioa that the hope 
 would bo realized. 
 
 As I had not to attend the tbeatre tha,t eveniag, 
 I kept the dinner waiting some little time after 
 the usual hour, with the idea that Lord Frederick 
 might possibly join us at the table. But ha 
 did not come by six o'clock ; and therefore I con- 
 cluded that we should see nothing of him until the 
 following day. Scarcely was the dinner ov^r— it 
 being then a quarter to seven — when a servant en- 
 tered to inform me that an elderly female desired 
 a few minutes' interview on very pressing business. 
 She had been shown into the breakfast-parlour, and 
 thither I at once repaired. I found myself in the 
 presence of a respectable matron-looking woman, 
 having the air of a tradesman's wife, or else a supe- 
 rior kind of housekeeper in a genteel family. This 
 latter she proved to be, for she announced heraelf 
 as housekeeper to Mr. Gower. I saw that she 
 was labouring under some grief; and I spoke 
 kindly to her, desiring her to be seated and to ex- 
 plain the object of her visit. 
 
 " The day before yesterday Mr. Gower saw you. 
 Miss Trafiford," said the matron ; " he told me that 
 he did— that he was here with you — in this very 
 bouse— and he fears that he spoke most angrily and 
 mos^ unreasonably " 
 
 " I can make every allowance," I said, " for the 
 wounded feelings of a father; and though I was 
 hurt by the charges which he levelled against my- 
 self and my friend Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe, yet 
 I was inspired by no anger in return— and I bear no 
 rancour now." 
 
 " I know bow amiable is your disposition. Miss 
 Trafford," replied the matron ; " and Miss Gower" 
 —here she stopped for a moment, as if well nigh 
 choked with grief at the mention of the name of 
 her young mistress,—" and Miss Gower," she con- 
 tinued, " has heard so much good said of you that 
 she regrets she should not long ago have made 
 your acquaintance." 
 
 "I should be delighted to know Miss Gower," I 
 rejoined ; " and if by the effusion of the sincerest 
 sympathy I could mitigate her afflictions " 
 
 " Oh, it is this sympathy which she requires !" 
 exclaimed the housekeeper. " She is in a sad 
 low desponding condition — at times she is nervous 
 and irritable if she cannot have her slightest whim 
 gratified — and it is on account of one of these 
 humours that I have taken the liberty of intruding 
 myself upon your presence now." 
 
 " Eest assured," I hastened to exclaim, " that if 
 I can in any way afford Miss Gower the slightest 
 relief from her sufferings •" 
 
 "You can, Miss Trafford!" ejaculated the 
 housekeeper. "Ever since her father returned 
 
 home the diy before yesterday after his interview 
 with you, she has been expressing her regret that 
 he did not invite you to the house. And it has 
 cut my poor young mistress to the quick to think 
 that her father should have spoken in terms so 
 angry and uojust towards you! — you who only 
 did your duty to your friend Mr. Norman's 
 daughter, and sought not wilfully to do the 
 slightest injury towards Felicia !" 
 
 " Oh, no-;-never !" I esolaimed emphatically. 
 " But tell pae, what can I now do " 
 
 " I scarcely dare ask so great a favour," re- 
 sumed the housekeeper : " but poor Felicia begged 
 that I would come— — her father likewise 8 oat his 
 earnest entreaties——" 
 
 " I assent to whatsoever you have to demand," I 
 siaid, " even before you explain yourself — for I am 
 confident that neither Mr. Gower nor his daughter 
 would ask anything with which I may not 
 camply." 
 
 " It is simply that you will pay Miss Gower a 
 visit without further delay," rejoined the matron. 
 "She is fretting to make your acquaintance " 
 
 " Oh ! if this be all," I exclaimed, " it is a 
 favour easily granted. I will go with you, 
 directly ! But tell me," I suddenly ejaculated, as 
 a painful idea struck me, '•' is Miss Gower ill .P— is 
 she in any danger that she is thus anxious to sea 
 me so abruptly ?" 
 
 " Alas, Miss !" replied the housekeeper, " the 
 health of my poor young mistress is very feeble- 
 she keeps her own chamber— there is indeed dan- 
 ger and to be candid with you, she has aa 
 
 idea that her end is approaching, and that if she 
 sees you not this evening she will never see 
 you !" 
 
 " Ob, I will go to the poor young lady !" I 
 cried: "I will order my carriage immediately!" 
 
 " It is needless, Miss," responded the house- 
 keeper. " I have a cab at the door, if you will 
 condescend to use it." 
 
 " I will go with you immediately !" I said : and 
 I hastened from the room. 
 
 I sped to my chamber — put on my bonnet and 
 shawl — and then looked into the drawing-room 
 for a moment, to tell Mary Glentworth that I 
 should be absent for an hour or two. I rejoined 
 the housekeeper ; and we entered the cab, which 
 immediately drove away. 
 
 " Does Mr, Gower still live in Stratton Street ?" 
 I as'ied : " has he been all the time in London .^— • 
 or has he only recently returned from his country- 
 seat ?" 
 
 " He has recently returned from his country- 
 seat," replied the matron ; " and as he had given 
 up the house in Stratton Street, which he only 
 occupied temporarily, he is now residing in a far 
 more secluded neighbourhood ; for he wished that 
 his daughter should be removed from that fashion- 
 able sphere in the midst of which the blight of 
 unhappiness fell upon her." 
 
 " And it was natural enough," I observedi 
 " Where does he now reside F" 
 
 "In Pentonville," responded the housekeeper. 
 " We have not very far to go." 
 
 In a short time the cab stopped in front of a 
 moderate-sized house belonging to a terrace at the 
 farther extremity of Penton Street ; and we 
 alighted. The front door was opened by a fsraale 
 domestic, nearly as old as the one whom I had
 
 376 
 
 El.t^I'' PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 accompanied thither. She said not a word; and 
 the housekeeper led me up a narrow staircase to 
 the drawing-room. This apartment was only 
 modestly furnished : — indeed, as much as I had 
 hitherto seen of the habitation contrasted strongly 
 with the splendour of the appointments belonging 
 to the house in Stratton Street. The matron re- 
 tired ; and in a few moments Mr. Gower made 
 his appearance. 
 
 The first glance which I flung upon his coun- 
 tenance startled and even a£frighted me ; for his 
 face was deadly pale. It was indeed a ghastly 
 pallor which sat upon those cheeks that once were 
 florid with robust health and good living. It 
 struck me too that there was a strange sinister 
 light shining in the depth of his eyes ; and for a 
 moment I almost fancied that I must have been 
 inveigled into some snare. But that apprehen- 
 sion as rapidly passed away, when, speaking in a 
 low, mild, kind voice, Mr. Gower said, " This is 
 most generous of you. Miss Trafford, after the 
 rude, unjust, and ungentlemanly manner in which 
 I addressed you the day before yesterday. But 
 doubtless you have made allowances " 
 
 " All possible allowances, Mr. Gower !" I ex- 
 claimed. "This assurance I have already given 
 your housekeeper — and I now repeat it to you. 
 Besides, the best proof that I do not feel offended 
 by what you said, is that I am here now. Tell 
 me, Mr. Gower — how fares it with your daughter ? 
 — for I am afraid the worthy matron whom you 
 sent to me was endeavouring to conceal the depth 
 of grief that was agitating her '" 
 
 "Yes — no wonder!" interjected Mr. Gower; 
 "for she has loved my daughter ! — loved her as if 
 Felicia were her own child ! But come ! let me 
 conduct you to Felicia's chamber." 
 
 I rose from the seat which I had taken ; and I 
 followed Mr. Gower from the apartment. We 
 ascended another flight of stairs ; and on reaching 
 a door which evidently belonged to a back room, 
 be paused for a few moments : his fingers clutched 
 the handle convulsively : I observed that he stag- 
 gered against the door-post — and a violent agita- 
 tion appeared to have taken possession of him. 
 The idea struck me that his daughter Felicia must 
 indeed be much worse than the housekeeper had 
 represented , and again did I experience the utmost 
 commiseration for this unhappy father. But when 
 I glanced at his countenance, its expression struck 
 me as so singular— indeed, I will again use the 
 word sinister— th&t a vague terror seized upon 
 me. I felt frightened as if smitten with a presen- 
 timent of evil, though I knew not of what. I was 
 about to address Mr. Gower, to say something 
 that might elicit an explanation — for I felt as if L 
 were labouring under a fear of which I sought to 
 be relieved, — when he slowly opened the door ; and 
 in a low deep voice he requested me to pass into 
 the chamber. 
 
 I crossed the threshold. The room was a small 
 one, and furnished in the style of a lodging-house. 
 A light was burning dimly there : it was a mean 
 candle-lamp standing upon a night-table by the 
 side of the bed ; and around this bed all the cur- 
 tains were closed. A profound silence reigned in 
 the room : there was no movement behind those 
 curtains — no hand was stretched forth to draw 
 them back in order that the occupant of the couch 
 might see who was entering ; so that for a mo- 
 
 ment I thought that Felicia slept — but the next 
 instant the idea seized upon my mind that she 
 was dead. 
 
 I looked round towards Mr. Gower : but he was 
 outside in the passage ; and at the very moment I 
 thus glanced' behind me, he was opening an oppo- 
 site door. Again, and with renewed force, re- 
 turned the idea that I had been inveigled into 
 some snare, and that mischief was intended me. 
 Mr. Gower's sinister looks — the circumstances 
 under which I had been brought to this house — 
 the appearance of the house itself, so inconsistent 
 as a dwelling-place with that gentleman's known 
 wealth — the silent chamber in the midst of which 
 I stood — the dim light — and the closely drawn 
 curtains of that couch— all combined to strike my 
 soul with vague apprehension and horror ! 
 
 "Let him come forth now !" said Mr. Gower, as 
 he threw open the door facing the chamber in 
 which I found myself. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this ? I insist 
 upon knowing!" exclaimed a voice from within 
 that opposite room : — and this was the voice of 
 Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ! 
 
 Then was I convinced that some dreadful scene 
 was in preparation; for to my memory flashed the 
 vindictive words which Felicia's father had uttered 
 when at my house the day but one previous— the 
 mysterious contents of the letter which had brought 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe to London — and his 
 presence there in that habitation — everything con- 
 firmed in a moment all the vague terrors and pre- 
 sentiments of evil which I had previously experi- 
 enced. A cry of alarm rose up to my lips; but 
 there it was stifled before it found utterance, — for 
 an awful consternation seized upon me with para- 
 lysing efiect as I glanced towards the silent cur- 
 tained couch on the one hand, and then beheld 
 Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe issuing from the op- 
 posite room on the other hand. Two ill-looking 
 men — coarsely dressed, and having the air of the 
 vilest ruflSans that could possibly be lured away 
 from the lowest metropolitan dens, to do some 
 dreadful work for a golden bribe — had him in 
 their custody, one holding him forcibly by the 
 right arm, and the other by the left. 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Gower !" I exclaimed, my 
 tongue being now loosened ; " what would you 
 do?" 
 
 "Ah, Miss Percy ! is it you?" cried Lord Fre- 
 derick in astonishment, as he now recognised me. 
 " What pitfall have we tumbled into ?" 
 
 " Silence !" exclaimed Mr. Gower, in a stern 
 commanding voice ; " and enter this chamber 
 softly. — Unhand him ! but remain close outside 
 the door— and await the signal !" 
 
 The mandates contained in the latter part of 
 the speech were addressed to the two men who had 
 the young nobleman in their custody ; and they 
 at once released Lord Frederick from their grasp. 
 For a moment, on thus regaining his liberty, he 
 looked quickly around him, as if seeking for the 
 means of escape: but Mr. Gower said, "Beware 
 how you attempt anything in contravention of 
 my wishes! — for you see that you are powerless 
 here !" 
 
 The two ruffian-looking men urged Lord Fre- 
 derick into the chamber, which Mr. Gower like- 
 wise entered ; and then the door was closed. 
 Nearly sinking with affright — but now again
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF XS ACTEES8 
 
 unable to give utterance to a word — I glanced 
 in terror from the pale, rigid, sinister features of 
 Mr. Gower, to the anxious excited countenance 
 of Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe ; and then I shud- 
 deringly flung my regards towards the bed with 
 the closed curtains. Fearfully ominous was the 
 silence which still reigned behind those curtains; 
 and my soul had the inward conviction that it 
 was nut the silence of sleep on the part of any 
 one who might be there ! ^^ 
 
 " I am about to show you your victim," said 
 Mr. Gower, speaking in a tone which was terrible 
 in its mingled mournfulness and its deep vindic- 
 tiveness. " Behold her !" 
 
 He advanced towards the couch — he drew aside 
 the curtains— aud the feeble light of the lamp 
 threw its sickly rays upon the marble countenance 
 of Felicia. There she lay, a corpse ! But her's 
 was not the only countenance on which fell those 
 pale feeble beams : they showed likewise the tiny 
 No. 48.— Ellen Pbecy. 
 
 face of au infant -also a corpse! The babe lay 
 
 by Felicia's side ; and with a moan of indescribable 
 
 horror, I staggered against the wall, to which I 
 
 leant for support. 
 
 " My God :" murmured Lord Frederick Eavens- 
 
 cliffe : " is it so ?"— and his accents were full of 
 
 the bitterest anguish. 
 
 But what a revelation was this to me !— for I 
 
 now comprehended it all. The unfortunate Fe- 
 licia had been rendered the victim of a far deeper 
 villany on Lord Frederick's part than I had ever 
 suspected or dreamt of. Hence this seclusion in 
 which she had died— hence the fearfully altered 
 appearance of her father— hence the terribly vin- 
 dictive words which he had used at my house— 
 and hence the appalling scene which he had pre- 
 pared for myself and the seducer now ! 
 
 " There lies my Felicia 1" he said, in a voice that 
 was tremulous with anguish ; " my beloved child 
 — murdered, Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe, by your
 
 378 
 
 ELLEN PEECX; OB, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTKES8. 
 
 unparalleled villany ! Does not such a deed as this 
 demand vengeance P" 
 
 " Vengeance P" echoed the young noblemen, ter- 
 ribly agitated and excited. " Beware of what you 
 are doing, Mr. Gower I I know that my sin is 
 great j but the law permits not you to avenge 
 it!" 
 
 "Talk not to me of the law !" said the bereaved 
 father, — " you who have trampled upon every law, 
 moral, religious, and divine !" 
 
 " But I am innocent !" I exclaimed, springing 
 forward to throw myself at Mr. Gower's feet : " you 
 cannot accuse me of any wilful wrong perpetrated 
 towards your daughter 1 I have pitied her— God 
 / knows that I have pitied her ! And now I could 
 weep for her fate ! And, O Lord Frederick ! 
 your's has indeed been a terrible sin— a heinous 
 crime ! — and I loathe you— I hate you ! Monster 
 cf a man that you are !— i^i^d to think that you 
 should bo the husband of my fri«3nd !" 
 
 "Yes — the husband of yo.uy friend," aai^ Mr. 
 Gower in a tone of the bittcrost reproach ; '^ and 
 made so by your coercive influences !" 
 
 " I will not rawain here 1" cried Lord Frederick, 
 who now seemed perfectly wild with horror, shauie, 
 remorse, and Apprehension. " I y/,i[\ go ! 1 insist 
 that this doof shall bo opened — ox I wiU lueak it 
 down!" 
 
 He threw himself violei\tly against jt; bwt it 
 withstood the shock. The* he rushed towards the 
 window, exclaiming frantically, " I will cry fox as- 
 sistance !" 
 
 " Just heavens 1" I murmurect, ** what » scene 
 for a chamber of death I" 
 
 " Dure not open your Kps, t<x c|j for sixocour," 
 ejaculated Mr. Gower ; '* or by t^e Jiving God, 
 1 will stretch you d%«*4 U|pioa th® o*rpet at the 
 foot of the couch oii whii^h lies y<mir yJotim !" 
 
 "Oh, this is fearfuU'^ j ;»urmured, tottering to 
 a seat— for my brai^ yfSkS Teeliog, as I caught sight 
 of a braco of jk\stoi3 whiei^ Mr. Gower suddenly 
 produced and wlxich ha ju'esfcnted at the head of 
 the young nobleman. 
 
 Lord Frederick was appalled and stricken with 
 dismay : he staggered back from the window to 
 which he had rushed — no sound escaped his lips — 
 he evidently felt that he was in the power of a des- 
 perate man — and his spirit was utterly crushed 
 within hira. 
 
 " JSTow listen to me, both of you !" said Mr. 
 Gower, in the stern voice of one who felt that he 
 was enacting the part of a judge — self- constituted 
 it is true, but for the time ail-powerful— and about 
 to pronounce sentence. " I do not seek your 
 lives — they are safe ! Do not think T would have 
 your blood upon my head I Wo, Frederick lla- 
 venscliffe — I am not a murderer as you have been! 
 — 3/oit, a twofold murderer! — the murderer of her 
 whom you maflo your victim ! — the murderer of 
 your child! Yes — by your conduct — so vilely 
 treacherous, so unspeakably diabolic — have you 
 committed this twofold murder ! Eeep your hor- 
 rible reputation ! God knows I seek not to 
 emulate it !" 
 
 There was a pause : it was an awful one. That 
 desperate man sought not our lives : but he was 
 evidently prepared to wreak some deadly ven- 
 geance. What did he mean to do ? 
 
 " First ol' all," he continued, " I will address 
 myself to you, Miss Percy — for such I understand 
 
 your real name to be. You compelled this man 
 to espouse your friend — you therefore alienated 
 from my daughter him who ought to have become 
 her husband. Perhaps you were right in one re- 
 spect : but still I cannot do otherwise than hate 
 you. When I left your house the evening before 
 last, I returned hither to find that all was over. 
 My daughter had perished in giving birth to the 
 ofTspriug of her shame ! Then did I resolve to 
 be avenged ; anil within the same hour which 
 crowned all my affliction, I penned the letter which 
 I knew would have the effect of bringing this guilty 
 man to London. On hirn a severe vengeance must 
 be wreaked ! With regard to yourself. Miss Percy, 
 my revenge is appeased in ^■enderiug yon the spec- 
 tatress ot all that is now passing. Look, then, at 
 that couch ! Behold i^e cold reaaaius of her who 
 would have become thia w^a's hiide, bad you nut 
 interfered !" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gower!" I exclaimed, bursting into 
 tears, "this is most uojjust on your part ! When I 
 saw you in Str^tton Street, you ^■eproached me 
 not — you acknowledged that I had acted ri;jhtly — 
 you thanked mo for the sympathy I displayed — 
 you offered to introduce me to your daughter — 
 and you assured me that eyen if Lord Frederick 
 had not become the husbiud of another, he should 
 not have led your daughter to ths siltar. Then 
 why upbraid mo now ?" 
 
 " Qh, because everything \% sa 8ign^^lly changed 
 since then !" exelaivued Mr. Gower ; " for I knew 
 not at the time the extent Qf the infernal wick- 
 edness which thiik n>aa had perpetrated towards 
 
 my poor child -I knew »al that ia every sense 
 
 she was his victio^ 1" 
 
 " And now, in the pvnsei(>oe of the remains of 
 your daughter," I hastily ejaoulated, — " through 
 respect for her memory, I ooinjure you not to dese- 
 crate the chamber of death •" 
 
 " Silence, Miss Percy ! You know not to whom 
 you are speaking ! I am not the same man whom 
 yon saw ia Stratton Street. My form is altered by 
 affliction ; and a fiend has taken possession of my 
 soul ! I have sworn what to do— and I will do it. 
 The moment for vengeance is come !" 
 
 This last sentence he spoke in a loud voice : it 
 was evidently the signal which the men outside 
 on the landing had to obey. The door was opened; 
 and they entered. Lord Frederick Eiveiiscliff;} — 
 no doubt agonized by the horrible uncertainty as 
 to what terrific punishment might be in store for 
 him — rushed towards the couch, as if that bed 
 itself on which reposed the remains of his victim 
 and his child, would afford hira the protection of 
 a sanctuary. But the two men seized upon him: 
 he was as an infant in their powerful grasp. His 
 hands were bound behind him— a gag was thrust 
 into his mouth — and he was forced to sit down in 
 a chair. All this was but the work of a few mo- 
 ments J — and the very instant that the young 
 nobleman was thus seized upon, Mr. Gower rang 
 a bell. Then there was a pause— another awful 
 silence — which was broken by myself. My brain 
 was reeling with iudescribable horror and vague 
 affright; so that I have not now a clear recollec- 
 tion of what I said to Mr. Gjwer; but I think 
 that I must have addressed him somewhat in the 
 following strain : — 
 
 " For God's sake reflect on what you are about 
 to do ! I do not know what it is — but I feel that
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 379 
 
 it is somethinfT dreadful ! That mau's crime has 
 been enormous : but neither the laws of heaven 
 nor earth permit you to take the task of vengeance 
 into your own hands ! Your deeply injured 
 daughter is now an angel in heaven; and in the 
 sphere whence she is looking down upon us, she 
 deprecates and does not encourage the thought of 
 revenge. Vengeance will not restore her to you ! 
 Leave this sinful man to his own conscience ! Kest 
 assured that he will from that source receive pun- 
 isbraeut severe enough !" 
 
 '' Silence, Miss Percy !" interrupted Mr. G-ower, 
 with a stern implacable voice : "it is not for you 
 to intercede — you whom I regard as one of those 
 who have helped to kill my daughter !" 
 
 While he was yet speaking, the sounds of heavy 
 footsteps were heard rapidly ascending the stairs ; 
 and an odour of something burning at the same 
 time reached my nostrils. I glanced towards 
 the passage : a vivid glare was thrown upon its 
 walls — and a cloud of smoke swept into the 
 chamber. The next instant a man — as ruffian- 
 looking as the other two — appeared upon the 
 threshold of the door, which was standing open ; 
 and he carried a brazier, in which charcoal and 
 coals were burning. Grood Grud ! what did he 
 mean to do? or what was to be done.'' I again 
 essayed to speak — but I could not: my tongue 
 clave to the roof of my mouth — I was over- 
 whelmed by the direst, most appalling horror. I 
 threw myself at Mr. Gower's feet: he heeded rae 
 not— and 1 sank against a piece of furniture, 
 clasping my bands — unable to rise — and with my 
 looks Used in hideous fascination upon the whole 
 scene that was passing before me. 
 
 " Wretch !" exclaimed Mr. Gower, thus ad- 
 dressing the young nobleman, who was held 
 powerless in the chair — bound and gagged — and 
 quivering visibly from head to foot, — " wretch ! 
 you have availed yourself of the personal beauty 
 which God has given you, — you have availed 
 yourself of it, I say, for the vilest of purposes ! 
 But you shall do so no more : for that beauty of 
 your's — I will mar it ! Into the world shall you 
 go forth as another Cain, with a brand upon your 
 brow. Thus, it is not merely a vengeance which 
 I wreak — but it is a safeguard which I guarantee 
 to society. If Satan takes the shape of an angel, 
 let the brand be placed upon the brow of the 
 illusive form, so that the unwary may not be be- 
 guiled ! And now let the work be done !" 
 
 I can scarcely describe the state in which I lay 
 upon the floor, with my head supported by the 
 chest of drawers against which I had sunk down. 
 I longed to cry out — to send shrieks pealing forth 
 from my lips : but I could not. It was a kind of 
 tctanos which had possession of me — a trance in 
 which my limbs were paralysed and my tongue 
 rendered useless, but in which all my other facul- 
 ties still retained their keenest vitality. I could 
 
 hear, and see, and understand Good God! 
 
 how I wished that completest unconsciousness 
 could at once overwhelm me ! 
 
 And then a horrible scene took place. There 
 sat the young nobleman— gagged and pinioned — 
 powerless, yet writhing in the grasp of the two 
 ruffians who held him, one by the shoulders, the 
 other by the feet. And there stood the dead Fe- 
 'icia's father, his countenance fierce and implacable 
 like that of an avenging fiend. And then that man 
 
 who had brought in the brazier, drew forth from 
 it an iron the extremity of which was in a state of 
 white heat ; and the ruffian, clutching with his 
 huge fist the long dark curling hair of the 
 wretched young nobleman, held his head back 
 over the chair. Then to his forehead he applied 
 the branding instrument. 
 
 Up to this point a horrible fascination had kept 
 my looks riveted, upon the appalling, ghastly 
 scene: but now, with a dread convulsing shudder, 
 I closed my eyes, and a hollow moan escaped my 
 lips:— but to no louder sound could I give utter- 
 ance. Then a still greater faintness came over 
 me — the room and everything it contained ap- 
 peared to be turning round — my thoughts fell into 
 confusion — I lost the power of discrimination— 
 and yet there was a sense of stupendous horror 
 sitting upon my soul like a weight of lead. From 
 this condition I was suddenly startled up by 
 a moan of the most rueful anguish that ever 
 came from the lips of a human creature. I 
 opened my eyes, and then I beheld a scene which 
 was indeed a terrible sequence to all the preceding 
 horrors. Lord Frederick's hands were now un- 
 bound — the gag was taken from his mouth — he 
 was still sitting ia the chair — and Mr. Gower was 
 holding a small looking-glass before him in such 
 a manner that the wretched young nobleman 
 might contemplate the brand which had been in- 
 delibly impressed upon his brow. The features of 
 the avenging father of Felicia expressed a diabo- 
 lical malignity — the triumphant satisfaction of a 
 fiend who has succeeded in accomplishing some 
 wickedness more than usually diabolic. And 
 there was the miserable Ravenscliffe, seated in 
 that chair, to which he appeared riveted by the 
 thousand fearful sensations which were crushing 
 and overwhelming him ! — there he sat, with the 
 terrible mark of the searing iron upon his brow— • 
 the looking-glass reflecting his countenance of 
 marred and ruined beauty ! Notwithstanding all 
 his crimes I felt for him at that moment; — yes, I 
 felt deeply : but I dared not sufier myself to think 
 of what Juliet's anguish and horror would be when 
 she sljould behold her husband returning to her in 
 such an awful state and should learn the reason 
 for which a terrific vengeance had branded him as 
 a felon ! 
 
 " Monster !" suddenly ejaculated Eavenscliffe, 
 starting up from the chair, and levelling the word 
 with the bitterest, keenest spite at Mr. Gower. 
 
 Then the young nobleman gave vent to a shriek 
 in which there were alike the vibrations of physical 
 and mental agony ; and throwing himself upon his 
 knees, he rested his countenance upon the seat 
 of the chair, sobbing and weeping, moaning and 
 lamenting with a degree of anguish that was ter- 
 rible to contemplate and terrible now to think of. 
 Felicia's father was indeed horribly avenged 1 
 
 " There are laws in England, sir," exclaimed 
 Havenscliffe, suddenly starting up from the kneel- 
 ing posture into which he had sunk down; " and 
 their vengeance shall overtake you, merciless mis- 
 creant that you are?" 
 
 " Go and invoke the aid of those laws," said 
 Mr. Gower in accents of scornful defiance. "You 
 may leave this house at any moment you think 
 fit. Best assured that I shall not seek in flight to 
 evade the consequences of the vengeance which I 
 have wreaked. You will find me here if you want
 
 380 
 
 ELLEX PESCY; OE, XHB MKMOIE3 O? JJX ACTEE38. 
 
 me. Go and display jour brand to the first 
 policemaa whom tou meet ; and tell him who has 
 done it ! But remember that in thi3 case I shall 
 likewise have a tale to tell, — a tale of how a be- 
 loved and only child was ruined and murdered by 
 him who deserved to be thus branded for his black 
 and hideous iniquity !" 
 
 Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe had reflected in 
 deep anguish for a few minutes while Mr. G-ower 
 was thus speaking ; and by the quivering of the 
 young nobleman's ashy white lips, by the work- 
 ings of his features, and by the convulsive clench- 
 ings of his two hands, it was easy to comprehend 
 how bitter, how fearful, and how harrowing were 
 his thoughts. At length he said, fixing a ghastly 
 look upon Mr. Gower, "Am I to unierstand that 
 this is a ven^eanco which is to be proclaimed to 
 the whole world, or that it is a secret to be con- 
 fined to the four walls within whose compass the 
 tremendous deed has been accomplished ?" 
 
 " It is for you to decide," answered Mr. Gower. 
 " I have no inclination to parade before the world 
 my daughter's degradation and disgrace ; — and as 
 for my vengeance in respect to yourself, it is now 
 
 "Then may I hope," cried Eavensclifife, clutch- 
 ing at the idea as the only solace which remained 
 for his horrible position, — " may I hope that the 
 secret will be kept, and that any tale I may choose 
 to tell to account for this " — and he shudderingly 
 indicated with his finger the burning mark upon 
 his brow — " will pass uncontradicted ?" 
 
 " You may rely upon it," answered Mr. Gower. 
 " In the first instance the unfortunate dead can- 
 not speak :" — and he pointed towards the couch 
 where reposed the remains of his daughter and the 
 offspring of her shame. " In the second place 
 these men" — and he now glanced round upon the 
 three ruffians — " will faithfully fulfil whatsoever 
 mandate I give them. In the third place, there 
 ia Miss Percy, who can speak for herself." 
 
 "Would to heaven," I exclaimed, almost in a 
 frenzy of nervous horror at what had taken place, 
 "that I could from my memory banish the whole 
 hideous spectacle as completely as if it had never 
 occurred 1" 
 
 "Then let secrecy be maintained," said Eavens- 
 eliffe. " It is the only consolation, Mr. Gower, 
 which your horrible vengeance leaves me ! If I 
 have wronged you much, the chastisement you 
 have inflicted ia more than commensurate with 
 that injury !" 
 
 " Ah ! since you speak thus," said Mr. Gower, 
 " you will permit me to deliver my own senti- 
 ments ere we part. You young men of rank and 
 fashion have brought your vices to such a point 
 that you look upon the seduction of innocence as a 
 pleasant pastime, scarcely to be regarded as a 
 fault, and too insignificant to be followed by re- 
 morse. But if every father whose daughter is 
 thus outraged, were to take the law into his own 
 hands and inflict a punishment as terrible as his 
 imagination can suggest or as his power can accom- 
 plish, the cause of morality would be benefited. 
 The punishment I have inflicted may seem hor- 
 rible, barbarous, savage, and ferocious, simply be- 
 cause the offence which provoked it has unfor- 
 tunately come to be regarded as something of a 
 very venial character. I have taught you a dif- 
 ferent lesson i and it would be well if your branded 
 
 I countenance could be exposed as a warning to all 
 the gay, reckless, dissipated young libertines who 
 go prowling about like wolves to devour the inno- 
 cent and the unwary. And now, my lord, de- 
 part ! We have seen enough of each other 
 and heaven grant that we may never meet 
 again !" 
 
 The wretched young nobleman reeled forth from 
 the chamber, and descended to the drawing-room. 
 Thither I mechanically followed him, — though my 
 own feelings were so stupified by horror, so 
 numbed by consternation and dismay, that I had 
 not even so much as a sentiment of curiosity to 
 ascertain what course he would now under cir- 
 cumstances adopt. !N^o one else accompanied us to 
 that room : we were alone there together. 
 
 I threw myself upon a seat, whence in speech" 
 less stupefaction I surveyed that young nobleman 
 who had become the victim of his own misdeeds 
 and of the terrific vengeance which he had drawn 
 down upon his head. At first he paced to and 
 fro in an agitation that was so violent it seemed 
 beyond the reach of any soothing power. Then 
 he advanced towards the mirror : but he recoiled 
 with the ghastliest horror from the reflection 
 of the vivid red deeply-seared mark which had 
 been indelibly imprinted upon his brow. 
 
 "My God! my God!" he murmured, wringing 
 his hands in despair, as he threw himself upon a 
 seat : then he rocked himself to and fro for some 
 minutes, moaning, lamenting, and lowly ejaculat- 
 ing " My God ! my God !" until all of a sudden 
 he started up, and accosting me, demanded, 
 " Shall you tell Juliet everything ?" 
 
 " You are her husband, my lord," I responded, 
 " and I am only her friend. You therefore have 
 a far greater right than I to dictate how Juliet ia 
 to be dealt with in existing circumstances. Ter- 
 rible as your crimes have been, yet God knowa 
 your punishment is sufficient ;— and if punishment 
 in this world be meant as an atonement, your aia 
 towards Felicia Gower has been atoned for !" 
 
 " Then you will say nothing to Juliet of all 
 this ?" continued Eavenseliffe ; " and you will 
 suffer me to tell some tale which may account for 
 this hideous calamity which has overtaken me?" 
 
 " I shall do nothing that can interfere with 
 whatever amount of happiness Juliet may expe- 
 rience from her marriage with you. Of this rest 
 assured, my lord," I emphatically added. 
 
 He turned away without thanking me. I could 
 well understand that his was now a state of mind 
 which made him look upon the whole world with 
 loathing, and that no pleasant word could come 
 from his lips. He took off his black silk neck- 
 cloth and thence tore a long strip. From his 
 white cambric kerchief he next tore a smaller 
 piece, which he placed upon the horrible mark ; 
 and I saw him shudder with the pain of the 
 cambric coming in contact with the raw seared 
 flesh. Then around his head he fastened the 
 black band ; and again he glanced at the mirror 
 to survey his present aspect. 
 
 " ^ow may I take my departure from this 
 house of horror and abomination !" — he said in 
 accents of deepest concentrated bitterness : " and 
 may all the most terrible curses which human lipj 
 can invoke from heaven or from hell rest upon 
 it!" 
 
 He put on his hat, and hastened from tl:e room,
 
 without taking anj farther notice of me. I heard 
 the front door close violently ; and then I mjself 
 thought of issuing from the house; for now that 
 I was alone, I experienced a vague terror as I 
 thought of the vindictive father of Felicia, the 
 three ruffians whom he had hired to do his fearful 
 bidding, and the horrible apparatus of the fur- 
 nace and the searing irons. I staggered down the 
 staircase, holding by the banisters to support my- 
 self. My tongue was parched: I endured the 
 agony of burning thirst — my throat seemed as if 
 I had been swallowing ashes : I should have paused 
 to solicit a glass of water, only that I was afraid 
 to remain any longer beneath that roof. Great 
 was the relief I experienced when issuing forth 
 into the fresh air; and engaging the first cab 
 which I found unoccupied, I proceeded homeward. 
 It was with the utmost difficulty that I could so 
 far compose my countenance and subdue my horri- 
 fied feelings, when again finding myself with 
 Mary Glentworth, as to avoid exciting her sus- 
 picion that something horrible had occurred ; 
 and when I was alone in my chamber, I gave 
 Tent to my emotions in a long fit of weeping. 
 
 CHAPTEK LXV. 
 
 PSIEBSFIELD. 
 
 Thbeb days afterwards I received a letter from 
 my friend Juliet ; and it was with trembling hand 
 that I opened it. T|ie contents ran as follow :-~ 
 
 « Eiver House, Dover, 
 « March 28, 1842. 
 "Mt dearest Ellen,— I write to you in a 
 perfect agony of mind ; and I wish to heaven that 
 you were here to offer me your consolations, as 
 you have on previous occasions done with a true 
 sisterly affection when sorrows and afflictions have 
 overwhelmed me. It was all a vile trick, that 
 letter signed by an unknown friend, and which 
 took Frederick up to London. He kept the ap- 
 pointment at King's Cross : he waited and waited, 
 but no one came. He was returning to his hotel 
 in the deepest despondency— no longer daring to 
 entertain a hope that there was any sincerity in 
 the letter which had brought him to London — 
 when be was destined to meet with an accident 
 that might have proved fatal. So deeply was he 
 absorbed in his painful reflections at having been 
 made the dupe of so cruel a trick, that he paid no 
 attention to the danger of walking unguardedly 
 through the crowded thoroughfares of London. 
 He was suddenly knocked down by some passing 
 vehicle ; and his forehead came with such violent 
 concussion against the sharp kerb-stone that it 
 was laid completely open. He was lif'.ed in a 
 Btate of unconsciousness, and conveyed to the 
 nearest surgeon's. There it was ascertained that 
 the frontal bones wtfre severely injured ; and the 
 scar which the wound must leave behind it, will 
 prove indelible. Poor Frederick !— he assures me 
 that he has suffered horribly. He returned home 
 yesterday with a black bandage round his head, 
 and in such a state of nervousness and mental 
 agitation that I almost fear bis very reason has 
 received a shock from which he will perhaps never 
 
 completely recover. He knows that his good 
 looks are for ever spoilt ; and though I have said 
 all I could to console him, yet he most deeply 
 feels the calamity. He talks wildly of being com- 
 pelled to wear a black bandage for the remainder 
 of his life : but this I should hope and think will 
 be unnecessary — for the appearance of a scar must 
 prove less unsightly than a sable ribbon tied ever- 
 lastingly over the brow. He will not suffer Mr. 
 Singleton the surgeon to be sent for : he says that 
 he consulted an eminent London physician, who 
 has given him a prescription together with all the 
 necessary instructions for the treatment of his 
 wound. 
 
 " I cannot help thinking, dear Ellen, that I am 
 born to experience calamity. After a brief in- 
 terval of happiness in my marriage state I am 
 now doomed to find my husband writhing under 
 the sense of a sad disfigurement. I should bow- 
 ever tell you that I have not yet seen the wound ; 
 and he has earnestly entreated that I will not 
 seek to look upon it, nor to interfere when he 
 would fain be alone in his dressing-room to treat 
 it according to the instructions of the London 
 physician. I have promised to comply with all 
 his wishes; — and indeed this is the more neces- 
 sary as I cannot conceal from myself the fact that 
 the occurrence has made a very strong impression 
 upon his mind. At his age and with his remark- 
 ably handsome countenance it is indeed a sad 
 thing to be so disfigured ! 
 
 "Yet even while I am thus writing, the idea is 
 gradually stealing into my mind that under the 
 wise dispensations of heaven those occurrences 
 which we look upon as the direst calamities 'may 
 often turn out to our advantage. Who knows 
 but that this incident may have the effect of rivet- 
 ing the bonds which attach Frederick to the 
 peaceful seclusion of the life which we are lead- 
 ing P — who knows but that the seeming misfortune 
 may furnish me with additional opportunities of 
 proving my devotion to him? Yes— there is no 
 case so desperate as to be without some species of 
 hope ; and at all events it ia our duty to submit 
 to the dispensations from above. 
 
 " Farewell for the present, my dearest Ellen ; 
 and believe me ever your sincerely affectionate 
 friend, 
 
 " Juliet Eavensclifpb," 
 
 I was by no means surprised to find that the 
 young nobleman had concocted such a tale as that 
 which was now communicated to me. Indeed, for 
 Juliet's sake, I was glad that he had discovered 
 some means of concealing from her the terrible 
 truth. I wrote her a letter in reply, condoling 
 with her on her sorrows, but not committing 
 myself to such an extent as to veil my knowledge 
 of their actual source beneath any deliberate false- 
 hood. 
 
 In the forenoon of that same day on which I 
 received Juliet's letter, I was walking at no great 
 distance from my own house, when at the corner 
 of a street I encountered the matron-looking dame 
 who had beguiled me to Mr. Gower'a abode. She 
 endeavoured to pass me hurriedly, as if she did not 
 notice my presence : but I stopped her, and at once 
 said in a reproachful tone, " How was it possible 
 that i/ou, a respectable female, and with looks 
 which are very far from denoting a cruel disposi-
 
 tioD, could have lent yourself to that savage act of 
 vengeance ?" 
 
 " Miss Percy," responded the housekeeper, " I 
 loved poor Felicia as much as if she were my own 
 daughter ; and that assurance is perhaps sufficient 
 to explain my complicity in the punishment that 
 was inflicted upon a villain. Frankly do I confess 
 that for yourself I experienced an immense sym- 
 pathy : but my master was resolute in rendering 
 you the spectatress of that scene— and I dared not 
 disobey him. I however exacted from his lips the 
 most solemn pledge that no injury should be done 
 unto yourself ;—aud that promise was fulfilled." 
 
 " But do you not think it was very, very cruel to 
 become an accomplice even to that extent, — thereby 
 rendering me the witness of so awful a spectacle P 
 Yet doubtless you were acting under the coercive 
 influence of Mr. Gower, who is evidently a man 
 
 of implacable disposition " 
 
 " What, Miss Percy ?" exclaimed the woman ; 
 " would you vindicate the cause of the villain 
 Eavenscliffe against that of the ruined and 
 perished Felicia ?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" I responded : " but though 
 the right of punishment belongs to society at 
 large, represented by its Government, the right of 
 vecgeiince belongs to no individual. We will not 
 however discuss the subject, which is a most pain- 
 ful one. Do you happen to know how Lord Fre- 
 derick Eavensclifife was induced to proceed to Mr. 
 Gower's house P" 
 
 " An appointment was made for him at King's 
 Cross," replied the matron; "and ho kept that 
 appointment. While standing there, he was ac- 
 costed by my husband, who is Mr. Gower's butler, 
 and who, as well as myself, was in the whole secret. 
 My husband inquired if he had the honour of 
 
 speaking to Lord Frederick EavenscliS"e " 
 
 "Did not his lordship recognise your husband," 
 I asked ; " inasmuch as he was at one time a coU' 
 slant visitor in Stratton Street?" 
 
 " Neither my husband nor mys.lf were ever at 
 Stratton Street : we remained at our master's 
 country-seat while he and poor Miss Felicia came 
 to London on the first occasion," 
 
 " Then it is really true that your master and his 
 deceased daughter went home to their country- 
 residence after the unfortunate destruction of 
 Felicia's hopes in Stratton Street ?" 
 
 " Yes— they went home to their country-resi- 
 dence ; and there it was that Miss Gower's condi- 
 tion was discovered. Ah ! Miss Percy ! it was a 
 terrible scene which took place between the poor 
 young lady and her father. But I will not dwell 
 upon it. Mr. Gower brought his daughter up to 
 London for a twofold purpose,— in the first place 
 that her shame might be concealed, and in the 
 second place that he himself might devise a means 
 of wreaking a bitter vengeance upon her seducer. 
 For some time Mr. Gower endeavoured to dis- 
 cover where Lord Frederick liavensclifFe was re- 
 siding—but inefl'ectually. Then accident threw 
 Lim in your way ; and from your lips he elicited 
 that his lordship dwelt in seclusion in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Dover. Mr. Gower already knew 
 that the Carshalton family had refused to be re- 
 conciled to Lord Frederick ; and thus he was at 
 no loss how to prepare a letter which should have 
 the effect of bringing him up to London. With 
 regard to the mode in which his lordship was be- 
 
 guiled to the house in Penton Street, I was just 
 now giving you explanations. My husband met 
 his lordship at King's Cross, and induced him to 
 enter a cab, to be conveyed to the house of the un- 
 known friend who had written the letter. It does 
 not appear that his lordship had the faintest sus- 
 picion of any sinister intent, until entering the 
 house he found himself a prisoner in the hands of 
 those men whose services Mr. Gower had procured 
 for the effectual accomplishment of the business. 
 And now you kno^v the rest," 
 
 " And do you think," I asked, " that the day 
 may never come when your master will repent of 
 that vengeance so fiendish which he has inflicted ? 
 All barbarous punishments are revolting to the 
 mind : but to torture the body— to mar the beauty 
 of the human countenance— Oh, this to me ap. 
 pears a terrible thing to do, no matter how great 
 the provocation !" 
 
 The woman was evidently impressed with my 
 words : a shade came over her countenance, and 
 she sighed audibly. I passed on my way, think- 
 to myself that of all the accomplices in the tre- 
 mendous deed she at least was one who looked not 
 with completest satisfaction upon its savage bar- 
 barism. 
 
 On the following morning I received a letter 
 from Beda. She wrote from Petersfield, in Hamp- 
 shire, informing me that she had succeeded in 
 tracing Dame Betty thither, or rather into the 
 neighbourhood of that town, where the old gipsy 
 was now residing. I therefore made up my mind 
 to depart immediately and join Beda at Peters- 
 field. Mary Glentworth was already acquainted 
 with the projects which I had in hand ; and I 
 asked her if she would like to accoojpany me to 
 Petersfield? She replied that if I particularly 
 wished her to go with me she would of course 
 yield to my desire : but I saw that she had really 
 a disinclination to be my companion in the jour- 
 ney. 1 did not therefore choose to press her : 
 neither did I by word or look convey the intima- 
 tion that I regarded her conduct as somewhat un. 
 kind. Yet such was actually the sentiment which 
 I did entertain upon the point j for I thought that 
 Mary might at least accompany me to Petersfield, 
 where she could remain at the hotel while I was 
 executing my plan in respect to the old gipsy. 
 
 I therefore set off alone ; and in the afternoon 
 I reached Petersfield. I proceeded to the hotel 
 from which Beda had dated the letter ; and there 
 I found the faithful girl anxiously awaiting my 
 presence. She speedily gave me those explana- 
 tions which were too long to be committed to a 
 hastily written letter. 
 
 " First of all, as you know, my dear Miss," she 
 said, " I went to Birmingham. Thence 1 took a 
 vehicle at dusk, and proceeded into the vicinity of 
 the old dame's cottage on the Embledon road. 
 Leaving the vehicle at a short distance, I alighted 
 and approached the cottage. No light was burn- 
 ing there : tho plaee seemed entirely shut, up; and 
 a labouring man who lived in the neighbourhood, 
 told me that Dame Betty had been absent for 
 some weeks. He however knew not whither she 
 was gone, I returned into Birmingham, delibe- 
 rating with myself what course I should pursue : 
 but I could not resolve upon any settled plan. On 
 the following morning— as I was walking through 
 the streets of Birmingham, in that kind of mood
 
 ELLEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 383 
 
 in which a person when at a loss trusts to tho 
 chapter of accidents to turn up something in 
 favour of a particular design to be carried out — I 
 saw the young woman who succeeded me in at- 
 tending upon Dame Betty when I entered into 
 your service. This young woman belongs to the 
 dame's tribe, and is much attached to Zirah. I 
 learnt that she had ceased to attend upon Dame 
 Betty, whose dreadful epileptic fits had so horrified 
 her that she could not endure her position any 
 longer. Having put a few questions in order 
 to ascertain what the feeling of the girl might be 
 towards myself, I discovered that it was altogether 
 friendly, and that she had never been made ac- 
 quainted with Dame Betty's secrets ; so that she 
 knew not how I had been entrusted with the poi- 
 soned lozenges, nor how I had failed to become 
 the dame's accomplice in the horrible crime. But 
 on the other hand, she did know that I had aided 
 Ziirah in her escape from the lunatic asylum ; and 
 therefore she was full of confidence in me. I then 
 began to fabricate a talc to elicit the information 
 which I required ; for I found that the young 
 woman was totally ignorant of the dame's present 
 place of residence. I told her that Zarah was un- 
 easy relative to her grandmother, from whom she 
 had not heard for some time. The young woman at 
 once volunteered to procure the information for 
 me if possible. There were some gipsies in the 
 neighbourhood ; and they, she said, would in all 
 probability know something of the dame's move- 
 ments. I begged her to lose no time in making 
 the inquiries— but to conduct them cautiously 
 without explaining her motive or mentioning my 
 name in the business ; and I invented sufficient 
 excuses for enjoining this secrecy. In the course 
 of the day I saw the young woman again : but all 
 she could tell me was that Dame Betty had gone 
 into Hampshire on some business which she had 
 kept tolerably close to herself. It however ap- 
 peared that there was an old crone near Embledon 
 who might possibly be in Dame Betty's secrets. I 
 supplied the young woman with money, and in- 
 structed her to pursue her inquiries. On the fol- 
 lowing day we met agiiu ; and then I learnt that 
 Dame Betty had set off for Petersfield : but wl\ere 
 she was to be found either in the town or neigh- 
 bourhood could not b3 ascertained." 
 
 "And then you set off for Petersfield, my dear 
 Beda," I said, — " trusting to your own ingenuity 
 to follow up the clue successfully ?" 
 
 " Yes : and on arriving here, I lost no time in 
 prosecuting the enterprise. With my countenance 
 concealed by a thick veil, closely folded, I wan- 
 dered about until at length I perceived the dame 
 issuing forth from a small chandler's shop, with a 
 few packages in her basket. I followed her at a 
 distance : she loft the town by one of the main 
 rone's — but she speedily struck into a bye-lane, 
 ■which she pursued for nearly a couple of miles, 
 until she reached a lonely cottage, which she en- 
 tered. I had followed her so cautiously that I am 
 convinced she never once noticed me. Being com- 
 pelled to keep at a certain distance, I could not 
 gee whether she let herself into the cottage by 
 means of any key that she had about her, or whe- 
 ther the door was opened by some other person. 
 Therefore, knowing how important it was to ascer- 
 tain whether she were living alone there— and if 
 not, who her companions might be — I remained 
 
 for some time in the neighbourhood to keep watch. 
 I had perhaps been nearly two hours thus con- 
 cealed, when the door of the cottage opened; and 
 a tall, stout gipsy-woman, of middle age, issued 
 forth to draw some water from a neighbouring 
 stream. I remained another hour; and I saw no 
 other person about the premises. I conclude that 
 there is no man there ■" 
 
 "From what reason do you make this dediic« 
 tion ?" t inquired. 
 
 " From the fact that as the bucket was largo 
 and heavy," replied Beda, "a man would have 
 gone to draw the water if there had been one on 
 the premises. Besides, knowing Dame Betty's 
 habits, I imagine that she is living alone with 
 that woman, who is attending upon her in her 
 fits. I saw no one of whom I could make any 
 inquiries relative toJthe occupants of that cottage; 
 an 1 I returned into Petersfield to write to you. I 
 should have gone back into tho neighbourhood 
 this morning to watch the cottage again : but I 
 was fearful of being seen there — and such a dis- 
 covery, you know, would mar all our projects." 
 
 " Are there no other habitations in the neigh> 
 bourhood ?" I asked. 
 
 " There is a half-ruined farm-house, with out- 
 buildings, at a little distance,"- replied Beda: "but 
 I ascertained that the place was untenanted. And 
 now, my dear Miss, I have done all that lay in 
 my power to further your views." 
 
 " You have acted as you always do, Beda," I re- 
 joined, — " with prudence, sagacity, and perseve- 
 rance. You are a good and faithful girl— and 
 your devotion to me merits my warmest grati- 
 tude. But we must proceed cautiously : for after 
 all, my dear Beda, it is not quite certain that there 
 is no male occupant of the cottage; and this is a 
 point most essential for ua to ascertain. We will 
 deliberate this evening; and to-morrow morning 
 we will go together into the neighbourhood of the 
 cottage. We will institute a careful watch; and 
 the probability is that to-morrow evening we may 
 be enabled to execute our design." 
 
 Beda now left me, for the purpose of unpacking 
 my box and arranging my toilet necessaries in the 
 chamber which was provided for me at the hotel. 
 When thus left alone in the sitting-room, I ap- 
 proached the window in a listless mood, and looked 
 through the panes into the street. In a few mi- 
 nutes I beheld a very handsome equipage pass 
 along. It was now the end of the month of March 
 — the season was that of an early Spring— and the 
 weather was delightfully mild. The carriage to 
 which I have just alluded, was an open one, drawn 
 by two beautiful grey horses, which in every re- 
 spect were a perfect match. Tlie liveries of the 
 domestics were rich and elegant; and a glimpse 
 which I caught of a coronet upon the panel showed 
 me that the equipage belonged to some titled in- 
 dividual. There were two persons seated in the 
 carriage. One was an old man, whose age struck 
 me, so far as I could judge by a passing glance, to 
 be certainly not less than sixty-five — and me- 
 thought that he might even be older. There was 
 something distinguished in his bearing, despite 
 the decrepitude associated with such an nge ; and 
 he looked with mingled pride and fondness upon a 
 beautiful woman who was seated by his side. I 
 naturally conceived that this lady must be the old 
 man's daughter ; for her years did not exceed two
 
 or three and twenty. She seemed to be tall and 
 well formed. Her profile, of which I obtained a 
 complete view, was faultlessly regular : her hair 
 was of a dark brown, somewhat wavy, shining 
 with a rich gloss, and falling in ringlets beneath 
 the exquisite bonnet, so as to enframe as it were 
 the charming countenance. I at once felt inte- 
 rested in that lady— not so much on account of 
 her beauty, as because her looks denoted a kind 
 heart and generous disposition. It was evident 
 that whoever these personages were, they were 
 well known in Petersfield; for the five or six indi- 
 viduals whom the carriage passed in the street 
 while it was yet within my view, saluted them 
 with the profoundest respect. 
 
 Almost immediately after this equipage had 
 rolled by, the waiter entered the room to lay the 
 cloth for my dinner. Seeing that I was standing 
 at the window, he said, "Perhaps you noticed, 
 ma'am, the handsome carriage which has just 
 passed ?" 
 
 I answered in the affirmative, — adding that I 
 presumed it belonged to some nobleman ? 
 
 "Lord Eelvedon," replied the waiter; " and 
 that was his lordship himself who was seated in 
 the carriage." 
 
 " And the young lady," I said, " is doubtless hia 
 daughter?" 
 
 " Xo, ma'am," rejoined the waiter : " that was 
 Lady Kelvedon, his lordship's second wife, whom 
 he married about a twelvemonth back." 
 
 " Indeed I" I exclaimed, all the interest which 
 I had previously experienced in the young lady, 
 suddenly turning into a sentiment of commisera- 
 tion at the idea of one so comparatively youthful 
 being linked to so aged a husband. 
 
 " Tes, ma'am," continued the waiter, who, as 
 waiters generally are, was disposed to be commu- 
 nicative ; " that is his lordship's second wife. He 
 has a beautiful estate in this neighbourhood — you 
 must have passed it, ma'am— about six miles dis- 
 tant-: " 
 
 " A very large mansion, with a modern front, 
 standing on an eminence in the midst of a spa- 
 cious park ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Tbe same, ma'am : that is Kelvedon Hall. 
 The old lord had for many years been a widower 
 —no one ever thought he would marry again — 
 particularly as he seemed very much attached to 
 his nephew, ilr. Collingwood j and therefore it 
 was to the surprise of everybody that we one day 
 heard his lordship had proposed to iliss "Wyvill, 
 one of the numerous daughters of a country gen- 
 tleman who is not supposed to be very well off. 
 The marriage took place; and I believe it is a 
 happy one. Her ladyship is very kind-hearted 
 and very charitable : everybody speaks well of her 
 — the poor in Petersfield and all the neighbourhood 
 for miles round have reason to bless her." 
 
 " And is there any heir from this marriage ?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " No, ma'am," responded the waiter. " It would 
 be a bad thing for Mr. Collingwood if there were. 
 He had long considered himself the heir to the 
 title and estates ; and it would therefore be a ter- 
 rible disappointment. At the same time he is on 
 perfectly friendly terms with his uncle, and pays 
 the utmost respect to her ladyship." 
 
 " Does he reside at Kelvedon Hall ?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Oh, no, ma'am," answered the waiter: ''he 
 habitually lives ia London. But he has always 
 been accustomed to pass three or four months 
 every year at the Hall when his lordship is there 
 during the parliamentary recess ; and it appears 
 as if this custom is not to be discontinued on ac- 
 count of his uncle's marriage : for Mr. Colling' 
 wood was at the Hall for a couple of months last 
 autumn, and be is now there again on a visit of a 
 few weeks. His lordship, it is understood, means 
 to live at the Hall altogether for the future — and 
 retiring from active life, pass the remainder of his 
 years in the enjoyment of domestic happiness." 
 
 The waiter now left the room to fetch up the 
 dinner; and I was again looking through the 
 window, when I perceived the handsome equipage 
 return along the street, as if some call having been 
 made or some shopping accomplished, the noble 
 party were now proceeding homeward. Lady Kel- 
 vedon was conversing gaily with her husband : she 
 was laughing — and I caught a glimpse of her 
 beautiful teeth. Scarcely was the equipage out of 
 sight, when the waiter re-appeared, bearing a tu- 
 reen of soup; and I sat down to dinner. After 
 the repast, I had Beda in the room to discuss our 
 plans for the morrow ; and I retired to rest at an 
 early hour, so that I might rise betimes to prose- 
 cute the enterprise which I had in hand. 
 
 Shortly after nine o'clock on the following 
 morning, I set out with Beda in the direction of 
 the cottage inhabited by Dame Betty. We pur- 
 sued the main road for a little while, and thence 
 we turned into the lane of which Beda had 
 spoken. We kept a careful look-out so as not to 
 stand the chance of encountering tbe dame her- 
 self in the open country and in the broad day- 
 light, at a time or place when it would be inex- 
 pedient to have recourse to those measures of 
 intimidation and coercion which we had resolved 
 to adopt at a proper season, but which might now 
 be interrupted by the sudden appearance of any 
 wayfarer. A little circuit which we made, brought 
 us into the vicinage of tbe ruined farm-house 
 concerning which Beda had spoken, and which 
 she had ascertained to be uninhabited. The in- 
 terval between this dilapidated place and the cot- 
 tage consisted only of open fields, without any 
 impediment to bar the view ; and I had already 
 determined, from the description given me of the 
 locality by Beda, to watch from amidst those 
 ruins. 
 
 " We will pass some hours here, if necessary," 
 I said : " we can hence discern all that goes on ia 
 the neighbourhood of the cottage — we can see 
 everybody who passes in or out— and thus we 
 shall be enabled to assure ourselves whether there 
 be any male members of the gipsy tribe who are 
 either living at that cottage or who are in com- 
 munication with the dame." 
 
 Tae ruins consisted of the remnant cf a large 
 farm-house, with several out-buildings, which 
 latter were in a better state of repair than the 
 former. At first I thought that a fire must have 
 ravaged the principal edifice : but distinguishing 
 no signs thereof — no blackening of the crumbling 
 walls, nor evidences of burnt timber — I came to 
 the conclusion that a part of the house had fallen 
 in, either through its antiquity or for the want of 
 timely reparation. We wandered amidst the ruins: 
 but we could find no convenient place where we
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE8S, 
 
 38-5 
 
 niigUt install ourselves so as to keep watch upon 
 the cottage at a little di-jtance. Bedi suggested 
 the inspection of an outhouse of somewhat con- 
 siderable dimensions, and which had a sort of 
 round tower built of red brick, with a pointed 
 roof. We accordingly repaired to the entrance of 
 this place ; and we found that the door, which 
 was originally massive in its construction, had 
 rotted away from its hinges. On entering the 
 building — the paved floor of which was broken in 
 several places — we observed furnaces at the ex- 
 tremity of a room of tolerably considerable ex- 
 tent. There was an open trapdoor in the ceiling ; 
 and a piece of rotting rope still hung through 
 this aperture to a pulley which might be seen 
 suspended to the ceiling of the room overhead. A 
 ricketty wooden staircase led up to this room, on 
 one side of which there were large partitioned 
 p laces exactly above the furnaces below. 
 
 " This has doubtless been an oast, or place for 
 Ko. iO.— Ellen Pekct. 
 
 drying' hopa," I 'said to Beda, when we had in 
 spected the interior of the building with some de- 
 gree of interest. " There are the open ovens 
 where the hops are dried by the heat from the 
 furnaces below. That trapdoor, with the pulley 
 and rope, served for the lowering of the sacks— or 
 pocl'ets, as I believe they are called. But many 
 a long day must have elapsed since the oast was 
 last used !" 
 
 "While pursuing our researches, we entered a 
 somewhat spacious room on the upper floor ; and 
 there we found an old bedstead, a table, and two 
 or three common rush-bottomed chairs. There 
 were two windows — and these were barred : but 
 one of them commanded a perfect view of the 
 little cottage which we were desirous to watch. 
 At that window we accordingly resolved to station 
 ourselves — but to look forth in so guarded a man- 
 ner as to avoid being observed in our turn. 
 
 "I wonder what purpose this room could have
 
 386 
 
 EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEEBB. 
 
 seryed ?" said Beda. " It is the only one where 
 we have seen the least remnant of furniture — and 
 the windows are barred." 
 
 "You might have noticed," I replied, "that all 
 the windows of the oast are thus protected, doubt- 
 less for the purpose of preventing the hops, when 
 there were any here, from being illegitimately dis- 
 posed of. It may likewise be that some person 
 was left in charge of the premises after the fall of 
 the main building had led to its evacuation by 
 its principal tenants; and this room may have 
 served as the lodging of the individual thus left 
 to take care of the property until its final re- 
 moval. It is strange that such a spacious esta- 
 blishment, possessing so many conveniences as it 
 evidently did, should have been euflfered to fall 
 into 80 ruinous a condition. But Ah !" I added, as 
 a thought struck me ; " methinks I recognise in all 
 this the baleful influence of a Chancery Suit !" 
 
 "A Chancery Suit, Miss?" said Beda inquir- 
 ingly- 
 
 " Yes— a lawsuit," I continued, " the object of 
 which was to decide to whom of the litigants the 
 property belonged. It may have lasted for years 
 — it may still be pending ; and thus in the interval 
 it is worth no one's while to keep the farm build- 
 ings in repair. There are many edifices in this 
 country in a similar condition. — But we must be 
 careful, Beda, that while we are talking we do 
 not fail to keep watch upon the cottage yonder." 
 
 " I have not as yet taken my eyes off it once," 
 replied the faithful girl. " If you wish to walk 
 about, Miss, you may leave me here " 
 
 " Hush, Beda !" I suddenly ejaculated, but in a 
 subdued tone. " Do you not hear " 
 
 " Yes — the sounds of a horse's hoofs in the yard 
 at the back," rejoined Beda in a whisper. " What 
 if we were found here, intruding — — " 
 
 " We should say that we were led by curiosity to 
 inspect the ruins," I rejoined : " we should apolo- 
 gize if we bad trespassed — and it would be suffi- 
 cient. But let us poep and see who it is that 
 approaches." 
 
 I have already said that there were two win- 
 dows to the room which we had thus entered, — 
 one window looking across the fields towards the 
 cottage at a little distance— the other window 
 looking upon the back part of the premises. 
 There was a court-yard communicating with a 
 road which led through the farm, and on the op- 
 posite side of which was a space which had evi- 
 dently once been the straw-yard ; for there was a 
 pond in the corner, and it was bounded on three 
 sides by the farm-buildings. When Beda and I 
 peeped from the back window, we beheld a gen- 
 tleman on horseback advancing up thnt road which 
 divided the two yards. He was about thirty years 
 of age — of moderate stature — slender and well- 
 made — of very genteel appearance — but by no 
 means good-looking so far as the features were 
 concerned. He had light hair and bushy red whis- 
 kers ; and his countenance seemed pale. He was 
 handsomely dressed ; and so far as his social position 
 could be estimated, 1 thought that he was decidedly 
 a gentleman. He was riding &lowiy, looking about 
 him right and loft—but more as if he expected 
 to behold some individual whom he had come to 
 meet, than ao if ho were taking u survey of the 
 dilapidated premises. Alighting irom his burst', he 
 fastened the reins to a gate : then he again looked 
 
 about him ; and lighting a cigar, he strolled to and ' 
 fro in the road, near the spot where he had left his 
 horse. 
 
 " He is evidently waiting for some one, Beda," 
 I said ; " and I know not which course to adopt — 
 whether to remain here, or whether to issue forth 
 and apologize, if need be, for our intrusion." 
 
 " The door of the building opens into the yard," 
 replied Beda ; " and therefore we cannot possibly 
 leave the premises without being observed by that 
 gentleman." 
 
 " At all events," I said, " let us retreat from 
 this window where he may see us; and we will 
 deliberate how to act." 
 
 We accordingly crossed the room towards the 
 front window : but scarcely had we reached it, 
 when we beheld a female figure approaching 
 through the fields. She came from the direction of 
 the cottage : she was an old woman, as we could 
 discern by her figure and her stoop : she wore a 
 cloak of dark colour— and she had a high stick, 
 which looked like a crutch. 
 
 " It is Dame Betty !" hastily whispered Beda, 
 at the very moment that I myself was about to 
 make the same announcement. " She is coming 
 as fast as she can walk," continued my youthful 
 dependant : " she is advancing in this direction ! 
 Perhaps it is she whom the gentleman expects to 
 meet?" 
 
 "Yes — nothing can be more probable," I re- 
 sponded ; " and if so, there is Bome mischief 
 brewing. A gentleman meeting an old gipsy 
 woman in this stealthy manner, and in such a 
 place— it all tells its own tale 1" 
 
 " And now, dear Miss, what shall we do P" in- 
 quired Beda. 
 
 " Remain you here for a moment and watch the 
 old woman," I answered : " but take care that sho 
 does not catch a glimpse of your countenance." 
 
 Having thus spoken, I glided towards the back 
 window to see where the gentleman now was; 
 and I beheld him sauntering with his cigar in his 
 mouth, across the court-yard towards the door of 
 the oast. In a few moments he was lost to my 
 view ; for he had entered the building. I was un- 
 decided how to act. That mischief was in embyro 
 wherever Dame Betty was concerned, I felt con- 
 vinced; and I longed to ascertain what it might 
 be— not merely with a view of frustrating it if 
 possible, but to acquire fresh means of intimidat- 
 ing that vile old woman. I thought therefore of 
 reniaiaing concealed in the oast, and risking the 
 chances of discovery by the dame and by the 
 gentleman whom I felt certain she was coming to 
 meet. For, I said to myself, that if even the pre- 
 sence of Beda and me should be detected, that 
 gentleman would not dare attempt to do us a mis- 
 chief ; while, on the other hano, if we were now to 
 issue forth we must encounter him— he would be 
 enabled to describe our persons to Dame Betty— ^ 
 she would recojjnise the portraiture, and thus learn 
 that we were in tho neighbourhood,— a result 
 which I was most anxious to avoid until the 
 proper time should come for carrying out our en- 
 terprise. Therefore, all things considered, I re- 
 solved, after a few moments of rapid reflection, to 
 remain concealed with Beda so long as circum- 
 stances might allow our presence to pass unknown 
 or unsuspccfcd. 
 
 Making a hasty sign for Beda to remain near
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AK ACTEE8S. 
 
 3S7 
 
 the front window so as to keep an eye upon Dame 
 Betty's movements, I tripped as lightly as possible 
 out of that large »-oom, and entered the one where 
 the heating-places for the hops were arranged 
 over the furnaces below. I stole towards the open 
 trapdoor for the purpose of listening in what part 
 of the lower range of rooms the gentleman might 
 DOW be. Just beneath that trapdoor there was a 
 sort of raised platform of woodwork, about three 
 feet square, and a couple of feet in height, — evi- 
 dently intended as a resting-placo for the sacks or 
 pockets of hops when lowered, so that they might 
 thence be all the more conveniently laid on the 
 truck or barrow by which they were conveyed out 
 to the waggon. On this little platform the gen- 
 tleman was seated. It was fortunate that at the 
 very moment I was on the point of peeping over 
 the edge of the aperture, my nose was assailed 
 with the odour of the cigar and a wreath of the 
 smoke was curling upward : otherwise perhaps I 
 should have looked too far over at first, and should 
 have been perceived. Immediately on catching a 
 glimpse of his light hair, which was almost pale 
 and curly as tow — for he had taken off his hat — I 
 drew back. Then I remained motionless ; and 
 standing where I was, I was enabled through the 
 open doorway to see Beda at the front window in 
 the next room. 
 
 Three or four minutes passed : the gentleman 
 still continued to occupy his place in the room 
 below, and still continued to smoke his cigar. At 
 length Beda made me a sign to the effect that 
 Dame Betty was entering the premises; and I in 
 my turn now signalled the faithful girl to join me 
 where I stood. She came gliding along, with her 
 beautiful delicately shaped feet, as lightly as if she 
 were an aerial spirit ; and in a moment she was by 
 my side. I placed my finger upon my lip, to in- 
 timate that we must observe the strictest silence : 
 I then pointed downward in the direction of the 
 aperture, to make her comprehend that the gen- 
 tleman was there ; and her large dark expressive 
 eyes gave me to understand that she fathomed my 
 purpose in listening to whatsoever might take 
 place between this gentleman and Dame Betty. 
 
 "We waited for two or three minutes in breath- 
 less silence, both of us standing as motionless as 
 statues ; while the vapour of the cigar continued 
 to wreathe upward through the opening in the 
 floor. The gentleman did not seem to be in any 
 way impatient; for he occasionally hummed an 
 opera air while enjoying his cigar. At length the 
 words, "Well, old dame, so you have come at 
 last ?" reached our ears. 
 
 It was the gentleman who spoke ; and his voice 
 had an agreeable melodious intonation. 
 
 " I am but a few minutes behind the time," re- 
 sponded Dame Betty; and we heard her heavy 
 shoes stamping as well as her crutch tapping upon 
 the paved floor below. " I am not so young as I 
 once was, and therefore not quite so active: but I 
 have not taxed your patience overmuch." 
 
 " Well, have you brought the things ?" inquired 
 the gentleman. 
 
 "Yes," answered Dame Betty. "And have 
 you brought the money ?'' 
 
 " What a precious polite question to put !" 
 ejaculated the gentleman half angrily : and then 
 bursting out into a laugh, he said, " But you are 
 evidently a sharp practitioner, dame." 
 
 " I like to be paid for what I do," rejoined the 
 old woman : " and you will excuse me for sayiny 
 that as I know you to be head over ears in debt, 
 and not particularly burdened with money at pre- 
 sent " 
 
 " You thought there was some chance of my 
 endeavouring to bilk you ?" cried the gentleman, 
 with another gay laugh. " But who the deuco told 
 you that I was so embarrassed in my circum- 
 stances? — though heaven knows it is true enough." 
 
 "These things get wind," answered the dame. 
 " Besides, don't you know it is my business to 
 learn everybody's affairs as much as possible ? 
 However, you say you have brought the money 
 — and that is sufficient." 
 
 " Here it is — all in good yellow gold, as you 
 stipulated that it should be. No bank notes that 
 one of your class might find a difficulty in chang- 
 ing ! Count the coin : you will find fifty good 
 ringing sovereigns in that bag." 
 
 " I will take your word for it," replied the 
 dame, after a brief pause, during which the chink- 
 ing of the precious metal had reached the ears of 
 Beda and myself as we stood motionless listeners 
 to this colloquy. " Here are the little articles," 
 continued the dame : and then wo heard a sound 
 as of things rattling in a tin box — so that Beda 
 and I exchanged looks of shuddering horror, for 
 we comprehended full well what those little arti- 
 cles might be. 
 
 " Ah," said the gentleman, " they are just as 
 you described them — little brown lozenges, looking 
 like coffee-berries:"— and this observation again 
 mado me and Beda exchange shuddering glances. 
 
 " Well," said the dame, chuckling, " there is 
 an art in compounding those precious lozenges, I 
 can tell you ! Three whole weeks has it taken 
 me " 
 
 " But I hope you do not tell your secret to the 
 woman who lives with you ?" interjected the gen- 
 tleman hastily, and evidently with some degree of 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" cried the dame. " I so 
 manage matters that she never knows what I am 
 doing when at work with my compounds. Rest 
 assured that I am cautious enough for my own 
 sake as well as for your's and any other person, 
 gentleman or lady, who may honour mo with 
 their patronage." 
 
 " 'Tis well," replied the light-haired individual 
 who was her patron in the present instance ; " for 
 if these tremendous secrets once got abroad, there 
 would very soon be an end alike of yourself, 
 your drugs, and your patrons. But now have the 
 goodness to repeat in the shape of instructions the 
 assurances which on a former occasion you gave 
 me in respect to these precious lozenges of 
 your's." 
 
 " Listen attentively," replied the old dame. 
 " Y'ou already know that these lozenges contain a 
 slow poison, inevitable in its effects " 
 
 " But producing no outward symptom," ex- 
 claimed the gentleman, " that can lead a medical 
 man to suspect that such a poison has been ad- 
 ministered ?" 
 
 " I were the veriest fool in my art," replied 
 Dame Betty, " if I could not in this respect out- 
 wit all the doctors in the world." 
 
 " Well, true !" said the gentleman, flippantly ; 
 "you have grown old and grey in your iniquities
 
 388 
 
 ELLEN PEECX; OE, IHK MEMOIRS OP AN ACXEK8B. 
 
 —and from jour experience you doubtless ought to 
 be proficient." 
 
 "And if jou did not know that I am," rejoined 
 the dame, somewhat testily, " you would not be 
 purchasing my lozenges now. These lozenges," 
 she continued, " will dissolve the very moment 
 they are dropped into coffee, or soup, or into any 
 made dish where there is a rich gravy " 
 
 " Without imparting the slightest taste to the 
 food itself ?" said the gentleman inquiringly. 
 
 " Exactly so," rejoined Dame Betty. '■' There 
 ore ninety lozenges in this little box. That is a 
 supply for three months, reckoning one a day. If 
 you want to kill your victim in two months, ad- 
 minister one a day for the first month and two a 
 day for the second month. But by all means 
 be cautious in commencing slowly, so that the 
 wasting and pining away may be at first scarcely 
 perceptible, and all along gradual. If by some 
 accident you miss a day, administer two on the 
 following— or else the constitution will recover 
 materially from the first effects. You know that 
 it is the continuous dropping of the water which 
 hollows the rock : so it is with these lozenges, the 
 regular and continuous administration of which 
 eats into the vitals." 
 
 " And you are certain," asked the gentleman- 
 heaven knows how abhorrent it is to me to use 
 the word gentleman in reference to such a mis- 
 creant, but at this stage of my narrative I cannot 
 call him by his name, and therefore must use that 
 term for distinction's sake, — " you are sure," he 
 said, " that when the evidences of pining and 
 fading away first develop themselves— when the in- 
 tended victim begins to feel that he or she is sink- 
 ing slowly out of existence, just as a tide that is 
 ebbing sinks away from its shore, — you are sure 
 that the suspicion of poison will not arise in the 
 mind of the medical attendant ?" 
 
 " If the suspicion arise," answered the dame, 
 " I will defy the medical attendant to prove it by 
 any test, or to counteract the operation of the 
 poison so long as it is administered. The antidote 
 is known only unto myself. If you will find the 
 means of continuously administering the poison, I 
 will answer for the results;— and even if after 
 death there be an examination of the corpse by all 
 the cleverest surgeons and chemists in England, 
 no proof of poison shall be discovered. Whether, 
 therefore, you can go on admiuisteriDg the poison, 
 is your affair, not mine : I only undertake to 
 supply you with it. And now, to proceed a step 
 farther, I must give you the assurance that I do 
 not for a moment anticipate the presence of the 
 poison will be suspected by any medical attendant. 
 The patient will at first become slightly indis- 
 posed — then gradually more languid — with an in- 
 creasing loss of appetite, an indisposition for ex- 
 ercise, and a gradient falling away, so that attenu- 
 ation will merge into emaciation. The doctor 
 will at first think lightly of it, and will administer 
 simple medicines : then, as the malady increases, 
 he will talk of nervous affections, the liver, the 
 heart, and heaven knows what; but rest assured 
 that for his own sake he will not confess absolute 
 ignorance of the disease itself. In the end he will 
 shake his head, look sorrowfully wise, and talk of 
 atrophy. Now, sir, have I said enough ? — or do 
 you require any more instructions, assurances, or 
 predictions." 
 
 " I am satisfied," answered the villanous patron 
 of this infamous woman. 
 
 "Then farewell, sir," she rejoined; "and may 
 you succeed in all your aims." 
 
 " Good bye," he responded : and then Beda and 
 myself heard the treading of the heavy shoes and 
 the tapping of the crutch gradually retreat from 
 the room below, until those sounds were lost in 
 the court-yard. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the gentleman himself took 
 his departure from the oast ; and remounting his 
 horse, he rode away from the vicinage of the 
 ruined farm-buildings. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXVI. 
 
 THB COTTAGE. 
 
 The feelings with which Beda and myself had 
 listened to the discourse of Dame Betty and the 
 fair-haired stranger, may be more easily conceived 
 than described. Mischief was at its dreadful work 
 again, — that mischief which wrought itself out by 
 means of a slow insidious poison ! With all the 
 deliberate coolness of a toxicoological lecturer ex- 
 patiating upon poisoDS, had the infamous old 
 woman given her description to that gentleman 
 who had evidently become her patron ; and it was 
 no wonder that Beda and I exchanged shuddering 
 glances when we thought that in a short time the 
 slow venom might be at work, leading towards a 
 fatal result, unless we should be enabled to frus- 
 trate the hideous treachery ! 
 
 It was not however until the gentleman had re- 
 mounted his horse and taken his departure, that 
 silence was broken by either Beda or myself ; and 
 then I was the first to speak. 
 
 " It was providence that placed us here," I said, 
 " in order that we should obtain a clue to the new 
 crime that is to be perpetrated ; and it will be for 
 us to exert ourselves to prevent its consummation. 
 We have now something more than we at first 
 anticipated to extort from the lips of that infa> 
 mous old woman I" 
 
 "Oh, if Zarah knew that her grandmother is 
 thus pursuing the path of crime," exclaimed 
 Beda, " she would not seek to protect her ! No 
 —it is impossible ! I am sure that Zarah is not 
 of such a wickedness as this !" 
 
 " And were there ten thousand Zarahs, Beda," 
 I emphatically cried, " they should not prevent 
 me from dealing with this infamous hag as she 
 ought to be dealt with ! Let us first obtain from | 
 her the intelligence which is so important in more 
 ways than one; and then justice must take its 
 course. It would be a sin to leave the wretch any 
 longer at large in the world to continue her 
 hideous traffic. But how can we wonder that 
 there should be such traffickers in the means of 
 dealing death itself, when we find that there are 
 such patrons as that stranger who has just pur- 
 chased the hag's fatal wares at ten times their 
 weight in gold ?" 
 
 Beda and I now again returned to the front 
 window, whence for the nest two or three hours 
 we kept our eyes fixed upon the cottage at a little 
 distance : but we beheld no one moving about the 
 neighbourhood of the premiBea with the exception
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTEES3. 
 
 389 
 
 of the gipsy-woman who was ia attendance upon 
 Dame Betty. At length, tolerably well satisfied 
 that these two females were alone in that cottage 
 together, I said to Beda, " Wo shall be two against 
 two: but then one is a dccrepid old woman and 
 can be speedily overpowered. It is her attendant 
 whom we have chiefly to dread." 
 
 " I fear not as to the result," answered Beda, 
 her large dark eyes flashing fire. " I feel as if I 
 could fly at tbem both like a tigress ! But if, my 
 dear Miss, we adopt the plan which you last night 
 suggested, and keep watch in the neighbourhood 
 of the cottage after dusk " 
 
 " Yes, Beda," I said ; " that is the course which 
 we must pursue. Our plans, as last night 
 shadowed out, need be in no respect changed." 
 
 We now issued from amidst the ruins of the 
 farm-buildings ; and we retraced our way into 
 Petersfield. During the walk we continued to 
 discourse upon everything we had overheard at 
 the oast, as well as upon the projects which wo 
 had to carry out. I saw that Beda was most re- 
 solute in respect to the part which she herself 
 should have to play; and I was equally deter- 
 mined to prosecute the enterprise with all requi- 
 site daring and vigour. 
 
 Having partaken of dinner, I ascended at about 
 sis o'clock to my chamber; and there I deposited 
 in my trunk my watch, my jewellery, and the 
 greater portion of the money which I had about 
 me ; so that in case of any accident I should not 
 have upon my person a very large booty for the 
 satisfaction of a plunderer. Beda and I now set out 
 upon an enterprise which may seem to the reader 
 to be somewhat of a chivalrously romantic de- 
 scription : but it was nevertheless the only means 
 that I could devise of bringing to a crisis those 
 matters on which I sought such important infor. 
 motion. The evening was very dark : but in this 
 respect it all the better suited our purpose. We 
 proceeded along the road — we turned into the bye- 
 lane — we soon drew near the dilapidated farm- 
 buildings ; and then, branching ofl' to the left, we 
 bent our way towards the cottage. A light was 
 burning in a room on the ground-floor, as we 
 could distinguish by the rays which glimmered 
 through a hole in a rude shutter closing on the 
 outside : but that shutter prevented us from ob- 
 taining a glimpse into the room itself. There was 
 a little shed in which firewood was kept, a few 
 yards distant from the cottage ; and in that shed 
 we placed ourselves in a kind of ambush. 
 
 " If no one comes forth, Miss, within a short 
 time," whispered Beda, " had we not better knock 
 at the door, and at once seize upon the person who 
 opens it?" 
 
 " That, you know," I replied, " is to be our last 
 resource. Let us have a little patience. It is 
 almost certain that the woman will presently come 
 out for something — either water from the stream, 
 or wood from this shed " 
 
 But here I stopped suddenly short ; for the door 
 of the cottage was at the instant opening. A 
 light was burning inside the passage; and it threw 
 forth into strong relief the tall form of the woman 
 whom Beda had described as the attendant upon 
 Dame Betty. She left the door open ; and from 
 our hiding-place wo could perceive that she had 
 placed the candlestick upon the stairs. The other 
 light was still burning in the ground-floor roomj— 
 
 which we therefore concluded to be occupied by 
 Dame Betty. The interior of the cottage, so far 
 as we could thus judge of it, seemed to bo some- 
 what better appointed than its exterior led us to 
 suppose. The passage was lofty, and it was & 
 good staircase : so that I fancied the cottage must 
 have once been tenanted by some superior depen- 
 dant belonging to the farm itself— such, for in- 
 stance, as a bailiiF. 
 
 Tho woman came out of the habitation; and 
 she approached the shed where Beda and I were 
 lying in ambush. She was evidently coming for 
 firewood. We both remained motionless as 
 statues until the very instant that she was at the 
 entrance of the shed ; and then we seized upon 
 her. It was with an indescribable energy— with a 
 power that seemed to borrow its force from a con- 
 centrated rage, although it was not really so— that 
 my faithful Beda literally flew at the woman. I 
 had grasped her with all ray strength, but in tho 
 twinkling of an eye she was prostrate at my feet 
 —and Beda was upon her. I could see nothing, 
 for the place was involved in pitchy darkness ; but 
 I could full well judge that Beda had clutched her 
 by the throat ; for the intrepid girl said in a low 
 but terribly resolute voice, " Dare to resist or to 
 seek to cry out, and I will throttle you ! There 
 are half-a-dozen of us altogether in tho busi- 
 ness !" 
 
 There was a moment's pause : and then tho 
 woman in gasping accents faltered out, " Pray do 
 not kill me ! Tell me who you are and what you 
 want— and I will do whatsoever you desire !" 
 
 " Beware then how you speak too loud," re- 
 turned Beda, " or how you move so much as a 
 muscle of your frame ! And now answer me — who 
 is in the cottage with Dame Betty ?" 
 
 " Ho one," replied the woman. 
 
 "But how soon is any one expected?" de- 
 manded Beda. "Do not attempt to deceive me— • 
 or rest assured it will be the worse for you in the 
 long run!" 
 
 " I am not deceiving you— I will not deceive 
 you !" rejoined the woman. " No one is expected. 
 Pray, for mercy's sake, take your fingers from my 
 throat," sho added, gasping with a great eflbrt. 
 
 " Do not injure her," I said, " if you think that 
 she has told you the truth : but let us proceed to 
 bind her fast — and she may rest assured that this 
 is the extreme of violence with which she will be 
 treated." 
 
 We bad brought a cord in anticipation of some 
 such scene as this ; and we both proceeded to bind 
 the woman hand and foot. Slie was evidently 
 almost overwhelmed with terror ; for she sobbed, 
 gasped, and faltered out entreaties that we would 
 not do her a mischief. And well might she be thus 
 under the influence of an almost crushing appre- 
 hension ; for the whol3 scene was taking place in 
 the darkness — she could form no earthly idea of 
 who we were — and the assurance which Beda had 
 thrown out to the eflect that we were half-a-dozen 
 in all, must have made her fancy that there were 
 other persons close at hand, but preserving a 
 solemn silence as if waiting until called upon to 
 act. We bound the woman ; and by dint of 
 groping about we quickly discovered how wo 
 might fasten the ends of the cords round one of 
 the upright posts which supported the she I, which 
 was merely a rude contrivance, the sides being
 
 390 
 
 ElLEIf PERCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AH ACTEES8. 
 
 formed of the small wood used for making fag- 
 gots, 
 
 " Now," said Bada, wlien this task was accom- 
 plished and we knew that our prisoner was entirely 
 safe, " you will do well to remain quiet : for there 
 are others just outside to keep watch over 
 
 you " 
 
 "Pray don't do me a mischief!" interrupted 
 the woman, in on agony of entreaty ; " and no 
 sound shall escape my lips." 
 
 "It will ba better for you," answered Beda, 
 menacinely, "if you keep your promise." 
 
 The faithful girl and I now hastened towards 
 the cottage; and we entered the passage on tip- 
 toe. We listened at the door of the room in 
 which the light was burning — and all was still. 
 In a moment we threw open that door; and we 
 rushed in upon Dame Betty, whom we found 
 seated alone in that room. The hag started up 
 from a doze before the fire; and an expression of 
 mingled consternation and rage settled upon her 
 countenance, appearing to congeal upon that 
 wrinkled face like the frost upon a window-pane. 
 
 "Yile woman!" I exclaimed, grasping her 
 forcibly by the shoulder, while Beda wresting her 
 crutch from her hand, threw it to a distance upon 
 the floor, so that she might not assail us there- 
 with ; " the moment is arrived for you to confess 
 your iniquities, to most of which I already possess 
 a clue 1" 
 
 The dame stared upon us in vacant bewilder- 
 ment; and her powers of speech were evidently 
 paralysed. 
 
 " I am here," I said, " to wring from your lips 
 the avowal of your crimes; and your punishment 
 will be mitigated only in proportion as you frankly 
 confess the truth." 
 
 "Little traitress!" cried the hag, thus sud- 
 denly hurling her vindictive spite at Beda as a 
 toad according to the fable spits forth its venom. 
 
 "The calling of hard names will do you no 
 good, Dame Betty," responded Beda; "and 
 coming from such lips, they will assuredly do me 
 no injury. You are in our power — your com- 
 panion is bound hand and foot in the shed, and 
 cannot come to your assistance." 
 
 At this intelligence Dame Betty's countenance 
 fell; and she flung glances of terror upon both 
 of us. 
 
 ""Woman!" I said, throwing into my voice as 
 much sternness as possible, "you are well stricken 
 in years— and you may perhaps have flattered 
 yourself that having so long practised your hor- 
 rible crimes with impunity, you would thus go on 
 until the end. But heaven has decreed that late 
 though it be, you are now to be stopped in your 
 career. I know how you sought to take my life : 
 but this faithful girl was incapable of lending her- 
 self to your iniquitous designs. Detestable poi- 
 soner ! vendor of deadly drugs ! even this very day 
 were you pursuing your abominable traffic : but 
 little did you think that while driving your bar- 
 gain with your scarcely less execrable patron, there 
 were listeners in the room above !" 
 
 " Ah !" murmured the hag : and she trembled 
 all over as if smitten with the palsy. 
 
 " Yes," I continued, hastening to follow up the 
 effect of the blow just dealt; "Beda and I were 
 present— and we heard all !" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Percy, spare a poor old woman ! 
 
 spare me, I beseech you!" faltered forth the hag, 
 quivering and shaking more and more. " It will 
 do you no good to send me to the scaffold ! I 
 have not long to live ! — spare me, I entreat you ! 
 I know that you are not malignant— and Beda 
 cannot wish to do me a mischief!" 
 
 " Will you confess everything?" I demanded; 
 " will you endeavour to make as much atonement 
 aa possible for the past? Eest assured that it 
 
 will better serve your interest to do this " 
 
 " Speak, Miss Percy— speak !" said the old hag: 
 " what do you want me to say ? If I have been 
 wicked, there are others who are more wicked 
 still ; and if there must be a crash, it will prove 
 an awful one — for there is more than one high 
 name which will have to be mentioned if ever the 
 worst happens to me !" 
 
 " And the time is now come," I said, with 
 mingled sternness and solemnity, " for the men- 
 tion of those names ! Answer me, woman ! for I 
 have several questions to put — and let there be no 
 delay ! In the first place, that gentleman whom 
 you met to-day — what is his name ? who is he ?" 
 
 Dame Betty looked at me with a ghastly ex- 
 pression for a few moments ; and then she cried 
 querulously and excitedly, "If I tell you, Miss 
 I Percy, you will send me to prison all the same ! 
 
 j What advantage am I to gain " 
 
 i " In a few words I will show you your true 
 I position," was my quick response. " If you shut 
 yourself up in an obstinate silence, you will be 
 arrested and tried as a principal in many crimes 
 , —justice will investigate them — you will be found 
 ! guilty and condemed to death. The attempt you 
 sought to make on mi/ life will alone be sulEciont 
 I to ensure your condemnation: for Beda will stand 
 ' forward ns a witness against you. But if on the 
 ; other hand you consent to confess everything, you 
 ! may doubtless be admitted as evidence for the 
 ! Crown against those who have been your accom- 
 plices, your instigators, and your patrons ; and I 
 pledge myself to put a seal upon my lips in refer- 
 ence to the attempt sought to be made against my 
 own life. In this latter ease you may reckon that 
 your life will be spared, and the rest of your 
 miserable existence will be left to its own natural 
 course. Now, woman, you understand your posi- 
 tion ; and you may begin by confessing the name 
 of that individual to whom you sold your poisoned 
 lozenges to-day." 
 
 The wretched woman's countenance expressed 
 all the conflicting feelings which this address on 
 my part was naturally calculated to inspire. There 
 was a ghastly horror and a, strong convulsive 
 shuddering as I put to her the more terrible alter- 
 native ; and then a gleam of hope appeared upon 
 her features — but yet of that dubious sickly kind 
 which denoted that it arose from the otherwise 
 utter desperation of the circumstances in which 
 she was placed. It was evident that her soul, 
 conscious of countless crimes — cold and implacable 
 like iron itself when entertaining no apprehension, 
 was now malleable and impressible when heated by 
 the burning fever of alarm. Indeed, it was plain 
 that she was about to confess everything, — when 
 suddenly the sounds of voices and of heavy foot- 
 steps just outside the front door reached our ears; 
 and at the very instant that the hag's looks un- 
 derwent a sudden change, becoming animated 
 with hope and malignant triumph, Beda and I
 
 ELLEX PEECT ; OE, THE 1IEM0IE3 OF AIT ACTRESS. 
 
 391 
 
 exchanged rapid glances of disappointiaent, af- 
 fright, and dismaj. Two men, evidently of the 
 gip3y tribe, rushed into the room : Beda and rny- 
 Bslf were seized upon ; and Danie Bettj, stooping 
 to pick up her crutch, pointed with fiendish tri- 
 umph to us both, shrieking forth, " Seize them ! 
 hold them !— the wretches ! It is my tura now to 
 threaten !" 
 
 Siiarcely had she thus spoken, when the woman 
 whom we had left bound in the shed, made her 
 appearance ; and rushing towards me, she thrust 
 her clenched fist info my face, crying, "Ah! you 
 dare bind me hand and foot, do you ? I have a 
 great mind to spoil your beauty for you, and 
 knock those white teeth of your's down your 
 throat — or tear out those large dark eyes!" 
 
 " Eeep off, tigress !" I exclaimed, as I was 
 struggling desperately in the grasp of the ruffian 
 who had hold upon me; while Seda was doing the 
 same in respect to the other individual. 
 
 But our resistance was useless : we were both 
 overpowered — and our hands were bound behind 
 our back.. As I glanced at Beda, I saw that 
 though she was thus rendered a captive, her spirit 
 was far from broken ; for her large luminous eyes 
 darted fierce lightnings around upon our enemies. 
 
 " Then there are no others after all !" ejaculated 
 the woman who served as Dame Betty's atten- 
 dant : " and it was all a falsehood about there 
 being half-a-dozen of them !" 
 
 " You see, my pretty dears," said Dame Betty, 
 thus addressing Beda and myself in a taunting 
 tone, "you have found your way into the den of 
 the lioness. But you must now bo taught a 
 lesson I" 
 
 " Well, it seems, dame," said one of the men, 
 " that it was rather fortunate me and Black Ned 
 should have come to see you this evening. I 
 couldn't think what the deuce it was when I heard 
 a Voice calling to us from the shed " 
 
 " Ah ! I wasn't to remain long a prisoner 
 there," exclaimed the tall woman, again clenching 
 ber fist and holding it near my face in a menacing 
 manner ; but she did not touch me — on the con- 
 trary, she actually seemed overawed by the looks 
 of scorn and defiance which I bent upon her. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed. Miss Percy," said Beda, 
 in a resolute tone and with an intrepid look : 
 " these wretches dare not murder us : for as the 
 people of the hotel know where wo have come 
 they will soon be seeking after us when they find 
 that wo do not return " 
 
 "If you can invent no better tale than this to 
 frighten us with, my little bantam," ejaculated 
 the old gipsy crone, with derisive accents and a 
 mocking laugh, "you had better hold your tongue. 
 I can see us far into things as anybody — I know 
 very well that you did not tell the people of the 
 inn where you were coming — for if you had 
 thought of taking anybody into your confidence, 
 you would not have come alone — but you would 
 have brought assistance— a constable perhaps, or 
 what not P So you see, my dear, you can't frighten 
 me." 
 
 " And you dare not take our lives, Dame 
 Betty !" exclaimed the intrepid girl : " for even 
 if it be all as you say — and even if you are 
 right in your conjecture that we came here 
 unknown to anybody — yet would the vuico of 
 our blood cry up from the ground against you. 
 
 and you woull go to the sjaffolJ ! All this you 
 know, Daaio Betty: and wicked though you are, 
 yet you are fi'ightenod-^— yes, even now you are 
 frightened ! and you dare not injure a hair of our 
 hei^ds !" 
 
 The old crone as well as the tall female dcpea- 
 dant were evidently struck for a few moments, if 
 not actually overawed, by the language which thus 
 flowed from Beda's lips; and Dame Bitty seemed 
 to be pondering what she should do. 
 
 " Well," exclaimed the individual who bore the 
 appellation of Black Ned, " what are we to do with 
 these young birds ? — because I for one am not 
 frightened by any of their silly threats." 
 
 " Nor me either," ejaculated the fellow's ruffian- 
 companion. "You know best. Dame Betty, to 
 what extent they can harm you, and therefore 
 what ought to be done with them ; because so far 
 as me and Black Ned are concerned, it is still a 
 mystery why they are here at all, or what they 
 wanted to do." 
 
 " We must keep them safe somewhere," said 
 Dame Betty ; " because there's a person I must 
 consult in this business. Where can we put 
 them ?" 
 
 " Why not in the overseer's room at the oast .3" 
 suggested Black Ned. " I was up there smoking 
 my pipe three or four days ago; and just for 
 curiosity's sake I looked at them iron bars ■" 
 
 " And they are secure ?" inquired the old crone 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Never trust me again," replied Black Ned, 
 " if I speak false when I say that the oast will 
 make as safe a little cage as possible for thoso two 
 pretty birds." 
 
 "Then away with them!" cried Dame Betty; 
 " and do you remain at the oast. Black Ned, to 
 make them keep quiet. But you must come back 
 to me, John," she added, turning to the other 
 ruffian ; " for I shall have to send you with a mes- 
 sage." 
 
 I saw that it was utterly useless to use either 
 entreaties or threats; and I could not proffer any 
 pledges of secrecy or forbearance for the future, 
 as a means of regaining liberty for myself and 
 Beda. Perceiving therefore that there was no 
 alternative but to submit to the captivity that was 
 in store for us, and trust to heaven for our de- 
 liverance, I said in a calm quiet tone, " You need 
 not use any violence— for we will accompany you 
 without the slightest offer of resistance." 
 
 " So much the better, my pretty bird," replied 
 Black Ned ; " you will save us a deal of trouble 
 in carrying you in our arms if you really mean to 
 walk quietly. But now just observe! Me and 
 my comrade Jack are not fellows to be trifled 
 with ; and if during our walk to the oast wo hap- 
 pen to meet anybody, and either of you two 
 should take it into your head to shriek out, we will 
 knock you down on the spot. Now, mind !" 
 
 Beda and I issued forth from the cottage, with 
 our hands still bound behind our backs,— Black 
 Ned having a grasp upon my arm, and his rufliaa 
 comrade holding Beda in a similar manner. 
 Through the darkness of the night we went ; and 
 not a single syllable was spoken until we reached 
 the ruined farm-buildings. Then Black Ned said 
 to his comrade, " Look sharp, .Jack, and strike a 
 light; so that wo may see our way— for it is as 
 black inside as at the end of a cavern."
 
 392 
 
 EliLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOISS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 A lantern, which had been brought by the man 
 thus addressed, was quickly lighted ; and we were 
 conducted up to that room which has already been 
 more than once alluded to as having some little 
 furniture in it, with two barred windows— one 
 looking towards the cottage, and the other upon 
 the back part of the premises. 
 
 " Take the cord off the hands of your young 
 bird," said Black Ned to his companion, while he 
 himself began to unfasten the rope from my 
 wrists : " we shall want these bits of cordage to 
 make the door fast— for there's no such thing as 
 bolt or key." 
 
 Beda and I were freed so far as our arms were 
 concerned ; and Black Ned, bending upon us both 
 a fierce look, said, " Now, I should just advise you 
 to keep as quiet as possible. You heard what 
 Dame Betty bade me do j and I intend to do it. 
 I shall stay here in the oast all night; and if 
 there's any squealing or shrieking out of the win- 
 dows, I shall just see what a good stout cudgel 
 will do towards silencing you. Come along, Jask : 
 they won't take no harm by being left in the 
 dark." 
 
 " One word !" I exclaimed, as a hope inspired 
 me — but I must confess that it was a faint one, 
 for I knew how faithfully the members of the 
 gipsy tribe are wont to fulfil the mandates of any 
 one having authority over them, as Dame Betty 
 evidently had. " I will give you each fifty guineas 
 as the purchase of our liberation. I have not the 
 money here — but I will give you a cheque upon 
 my banker in London; and I will pledge myself 
 by the most solemn of oaths not to revoke it nor 
 to set any snare to entrap you." 
 
 "It won't do, Miss," answered Black Ned. 
 " The offer is tempting — but we don't know what 
 mischief you might do to Dame Betty if you was 
 set free: and perhaps the bribe would become 
 blood-money in our hands. And now good night." 
 
 The fellow retired from the room, followed by 
 his companion who carried the lantern ; so that 
 Beda and I were left in utter darkness, in cap- 
 tivity, and in the intense cold of that March 
 evening. We listened for a few moments in 
 breathless silence, as if both of us with one accord 
 were endeavouring to ascertain by what means 
 the door was to be fastened upon us. "VYe heard 
 Black Ned say, "Look about for a stout stick or 
 bit of wood. Jack — long enough to place against 
 the framework of this door : then we can tie the 
 cord to the latch, and I'll defy the girls to get it 
 open. Besides, I shall keep watch about the pre- 
 mises while you go and see what Dame Betty 
 wants you to do nex.t," 
 
 " Here's a bit of wood that will just answer 
 the purpose," said the other gipsy-man, after a 
 brief silence : " and now make haste and fasten 
 up the door." 
 
 This work was soon accomplished ; and then we 
 heard the heavy tread of both the men retreating 
 from the door which was thus secured upon us. 
 
 " My poor Beda," I said, in a low whispering 
 voice as I caught my faithful dependant in my 
 arras, " into what perils have I brought you !" 
 
 " Do not think of me only, dearest Miss !" re- 
 plied Beda : "there is a happiness— or at least a 
 consolation for me in sharing the dangers which 
 have overtaken yourself." 
 
 " Oh, you are a good kind girl !" I ejaculated, j 
 
 though in a subdued tone : " but still I cannot 
 help blaming myself for everything that has hap- 
 pened ! I now see the rashness of the enterprise ! 
 Yes, now that it is too late " 
 
 "And being too late, my dear Miss Percy," in- 
 terjected Beda, "it is useless to deplore it. Dame 
 Betty is going to send off one of these men with 
 a message somewhere ; she said that she had a 
 person to consult " 
 
 "That must be the gentleman whom we saw in 
 the morning," I responded. " She will tell him 
 that everything is known to us— and he is evi- 
 dently a man of the most unscrupulous character, 
 capable of any villany. Oh, my poor Beda ! I now 
 tremble for our lives ?" 
 
 "Be not cast down, my dear Miss," said the in- 
 trepid girl : " it is not the first time that you have 
 sustained dangers at the hands of Dame Betty ; 
 and heaven has hitherto protected you. That 
 same heaven will protect you still !" 
 
 "God grant that it may be so!" I solemnly 
 added : " but I declare to you, my faithful girl, 
 that I am now infinitely more concerned on your 
 account than on my own." 
 
 Beda said everything reassuring : she spoke 
 hopefully and cheerfully; and thus I had another 
 proof, not merely of the intrepidity of her charac- 
 ter, but likewise of her devotion tov/ards myself. 
 She implored me not to express any farther grief 
 on her special account — but to regard the calamity 
 as one which had inevitably overtaken both of us 
 without there being any fault to be more attached 
 to the one than to the other. 
 
 I have already said that the night was very 
 cold, for it was the last day of the month of 
 March ; the wind was blowing keenly, and seve- 
 ral panes in both windows were broken ; so that 
 there was a complete draught through the room, 
 Beda and I drew a couple of the crazy rotting 
 chairs into a corner, in order to escape from the 
 current of air; and huddling close together, wo 
 endeavoured to keep ourselves warm. We heard 
 Black Ned occasionally moving about in the adja- 
 cent premises ; and the strong odour of tobacco 
 was wafted into tho room where Beda and I were 
 captive. In low whispering tones we discussed the 
 possibility of escaping. We glided to tho win- 
 dows and felt the massive bars : but we were soon 
 convinced that Black Ned had only spoken too 
 truly when he declared that those iron defences 
 could be relied upon to keep us secure in our 
 cage. The door was strongly fastened; and wo 
 were at length compelled to admit to each other 
 that there was in reality no chance of escape by 
 any of those avenues. Then we returned to our 
 corner; and folded in each other's arms, we en- 
 deavoured to keep off the cold. 
 
 Not one wink did either of us sleep throughout 
 that night. I cannot tell how wearily, how 
 heavily, how coldly, and how miserably the hours 
 dragged themselves along. What would be 
 thought at the hotel of our absence, was among 
 the painful subjects for reflection : but this was 
 indeed trivial in comparison with the utter uncer- 
 tainty as to what fate might be in store for us. 
 Yet Beda never once lost her intrepidity nor 
 spoke despondingly ; and I felt that I admired 
 and loved the faithful girl more than ever, if pos- 
 sible, for the conduct which she displayed through- 
 out this wretched, memorable night.
 
 The cold faiufc beams of movning at leugth 
 began to glimmer in at the windows j and now 
 Beda and mjself were suffering so intensely from 
 the chill that we could not keep our teeth from 
 chattering. As it grew somewhat lighter, we 
 locked through the windows : no one was to be 
 seen in the back part of the premises — but from 
 the front window Dame Betty's tall female depen- 
 dant was observed to be approaching at a rapid 
 pace. She had a basket on her arm, which was 
 only half-covered by her somewhat scanty cloak. 
 
 " She is bringing us provisions, I verily be- 
 lieve !" said Beda: but I saw by the girl's looks 
 what was passing in her mind. 
 
 " Yes," I observed, in a low tone : " we must 
 
 indeed be cautiou?, Beda; for we are dealing with 
 
 ruthless people — with fiends in human shape! — 
 
 and that vile hag Damo Betty is but too fcarluUy 
 
 No. 50. — Ellen Peect. 
 
 skilful in the dreadful art of poison-compound- 
 ing !' 
 
 The woman, with tho basket on her arm, en- 
 tered the oast; and soon afterwards we heard foot- 
 steps approaching our door. The fastening was 
 removed from the outside — Black Ned first of all 
 made his appearance — and then came the tall 
 gipsy-woman with the basket. 
 
 " Here," she said, in a rough brutal tone, and 
 flinging on us malignant looks, — " here is food for 
 you ; and it is more than you deserve after all you 
 have done. You may expect to see some one pre- 
 sently — and then you will know your fate." 
 
 " I must do the birds tho justice to say," ex- 
 claimed Black Ned, " that they have been very 
 quiet during tho night, and have not chirruped 
 out of the wii-.dow." 
 
 "Then do jou take care," returned the woman,
 
 394 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 " that they continue quiet : for now that it is day- 
 light, you know " — and she bent a significant look 
 upon the man, as much as to imply that in the 
 daytime there were greater ohancea of strangers 
 passing near the premises. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," said Black Ned, with a de- 
 termined look; "they know what will happen if 
 they dare attempt to screech out :" — and he me- 
 nacingly shook a huge bludgeon which he carried 
 in his hand. " Besides," he added, " there is 
 something I can do which will add to their com- 
 forts; for it will keep out the draught." 
 
 Thus speaking, he brought from the adjoining 
 room the trapdoor which was wont to be fitted 
 over the opening through which the sacks were 
 lowered down into the place below ; and this trap- 
 door exactly suited the size of the front window- 
 frame. There he accordingly fixed it, so that it 
 might serve as a shutter to prevent us from ob- 
 serving when any stranger might happen to be 
 passing along in the front part of the premises. 
 
 " There now I" he said, with a sly leer ; " you 
 are protected from the draught." 
 
 He and the woman then retired ; and the door 
 was again fastened upon us. Beda opened the 
 basket, in which we found a loaf of bread and a 
 bottle of milk. The milk was warm ; and though 
 both Beda and myself longed to partake of it, yet 
 we dared not, for we were afraid lest it might 
 contain poison ! 
 
 " I brought the box of pink lozenges with me 
 to Petersfield," I said ; " for ever since they fell 
 into my hands at Birmingham, I have invariably 
 travelled with them. If we now had them here, 
 Beda, we might fearlessly drink that milk : for 
 we have positive proof that the pink lozenges are 
 an antidote to all the vile hag's poisoaa." 
 
 "Do you not think. Miss," inquired Beda, 
 " that we might in all safety eat the bread ?— for 
 I confess that I am very, very hungry." 
 
 " Ob, for heaven's sake do not, Beda, I conjure 
 you!" I exclaimed. " Better to remain in a half- 
 famishing condition, than to run so fearful a 
 risk !" 
 
 " Yes, yes— you are right, my dear Miss 
 Percy !" cried Beda ; " we will not ! Away with 
 the temptation !" — and through the bars of the 
 back window she thrust the contents of the 
 basket, the bottle smashing on the ground be- 
 low. 
 
 " B.allo !" cried Black Ned, stepping forth from 
 the oast and looking up at the window : " so you 
 are quarrelling with your food — are you ? Well, 
 I suppose it is not good enough for you ; and your 
 appetites are somewhat of the daintiest. Well, if 
 you stay here to dinner— as perhaps you will — I 
 must tell Dame Betty to provide you with some- 
 thing nice unless you would like a repast sent 
 
 down from your hotel ?" 
 
 With a chuckling laugh at what the ruffian 
 conceived to be a good joke, he lighted his pipe 
 and began to walk rapidly up and down the 
 court-yard, moving his arms about and striking 
 them crosswise to Murm himself. 
 
 " We are soon to expect some one, Beda," I 
 said ; " and then we shall know our fate ! It 
 was thus that the woman spoke. Who can that 
 tome one be if not the stranger whom we saw here 
 yesterday ?" 
 
 Scarcely had these words gone forth from my 
 
 lips, when the sounds of a horse's hoofs ad- 
 vancing at a rapid rate, reached our ears • and 
 looking through the back window, we beheld that 
 fair-haired gentleman approaching along the lane j 
 which divided the two yards belonging to the I 
 farm-premises. Black Ned hastened forward to 
 hold the gentleman's horse ; and a few observa- 
 tions were rapidly exchanged between them — but 
 what they were we could not overhear. Then the 
 gentleman entered the oast ; and we heard his 
 footsteps ascending the ladder-like staircase. The 
 fastenings of the door were undone; and the 
 gentleman made his appearance. I have already 
 said that he was about thirty years of age— of me- 
 dium height— genteel, but far from good-looking 
 — with very light hair, red bushy whiskers, and 
 pale countenance. His face was now absolutely 
 colourless, uotwithstaudiug the excitement of 
 riding : he seemed as if labouring uuder a bewil- 
 dering affright and consternation. His whole 
 manner was deeply agitated ; and his glances wan- 
 dered excitedly from my countenance to that of 
 Beda. As for ourselves, we both maintained a 
 calm intrepid demeanour, as we stood together in 
 the middle of the room where he thus appeared in 
 our presence. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXVII. 
 
 THE ATTACK. 
 
 It was evident that though the gentleman had 
 come intent upon the particular business which 
 seemed do vitally to concern him, ho knew not 
 how to open the topic : he was exceedingly em- 
 barrassed and confused— and indeed his counte- 
 nance displayed an agitation which I had not 
 expected to find on the part of a man who the day 
 before had appeared flippantly reckless and full of 
 a callous levity when dealing with the old hag for 
 the means of committing a stupendous crime. At 
 length settling his wandering regards upon me, he 
 said, " I know who you are. Miss Percy : you are 
 otherwise known as Miss Trafford, the celebrated 
 tragedian. I have seen you upon the stage — and 
 I have admired you." 
 
 " If, sir," I replied, coldly but resolutely, " you 
 have the power to grant freedom to myself and to 
 my faithful dependant, I desire that you at once 
 sufler us to pass hence." 
 
 "Respecting your liberty. Miss Percy," he re- 
 sponded, evidently gaining courage and self-pos- 
 session now that the ice was once broken and that 
 the discourse was commenced, " much if not every- 
 thing depends upon yourself. It seems that you 
 overheard something which took place between me 
 and the old gipsy-woman " 
 
 " It is true — I do not attempt to deny it," I 
 said; "and that which I did overhear was of a 
 very frightful character !" 
 
 "Without for a moment admitting the inter- 
 pretation which you yourself may choose to put 
 upon it," resumed the stranger, now speaking 
 with the utmost hardihood alike of mien and tone, 
 "I will take it for granted that the impression 
 left upon your mind was tho correct one. This 
 therefore is to serve as a premise for the conver- 
 sation that we must now have together :" — and
 
 ELtEX PEECT; OH, THE MEM0IB3 OP AW ACTBE88. 
 
 395 
 
 as he spoke he leant his back against the door- 
 post, folding his arms with firm and resolute bear- 
 ing across his chest. 
 
 " Proceed, sir," I said : and it was with a strong 
 sense of loathing that I looked upon this man 
 whom I knew to be capable of the most enor- 
 mous turpitude. 
 
 " It will perhaps help us on the way towards a 
 complete understanding," he continued, "if you 
 will condescend to answer me a question. I have 
 heard much of jour character, Miss Percy — and 
 I know that nothing but the truth can come from 
 your lips " 
 
 " Put your question, sir," I said ; " and if it 
 be answered at all, rest assured that the response 
 will be given with sincerity and truthfulness." 
 
 "I would simply inquire, Miss Percy, if you 
 know who I am ?" 
 
 " No, sir : I know you not." 
 
 "And yet," he immediately proceeded, as if 
 musing audibly, " it really matters but little 
 whether or not you know who I am : for you 
 could speedily find out if it suited your purpose 
 —that is to say, supposing the issue of our present 
 diecourse should be an arrangement by which you 
 may obtain your liberty. But perhaps, Miss 
 Percy," he ejaculated, as an idea seemed to strike 
 him, "you will permit me to put another ques- 
 tion ; — and again I rely in confidence upon your 
 sincerity. Tell me, therefore, as if you were speak- 
 ing on your oath, what course you would adopt in 
 reference to myself — in reference, I mean, to any. 
 thing which you heard pass between me and the 
 old gipsy-woman, — what course you would adopt, 
 I inquire, if you were this moment restored to 
 liberty ?" 
 
 "Not for a single instant can I recognise your 
 right thus to question me," 1 responded. "Tou 
 are now adding other offences to those which you 
 may have already contemplated or perpetrated : 
 you stand here as an accomplice in the offence of 
 those who are detaining myself and my young 
 attendant prisoners." 
 
 The gentleman bit his lip for a moment with 
 evident vexation at the firmness with which I met 
 him : but rapidly regaining his self-possession, he 
 said in a determined manner, " Then, if I must 
 speak out harshly, plainly, and sternly, be it so ! — 
 and the sooner the better !" 
 
 He paused for a few moments, expecting per- 
 haps that I would give some reply ; but 1 made 
 none ; and he continued in the following man- 
 ner: — 
 
 " I bare already said it shall be taken for 
 granted that the interpretation which I know 
 you have put upon the scene of yesterday, is the 
 correct one. If so, it is evident I stand in your 
 presence as a man driven fo desperation : for you 
 have it in your power to ruin me ! It is therefore 
 tantamount to a death-struggle which must take 
 place between you two on one side and myself on 
 the other. In plain terms, to secure my own 
 safety I must get rid of you both. This I am 
 prepared to do, as well as resolved to do!" 
 
 "Wretched man!" I exclaimed, "dare you 
 stand thus in our presence and speak in cold blood 
 of committing a double murder? Oh! but we 
 will resist ! — rest assured that we will sell our lives 
 dearly !" 
 
 "Resistance would be vain," interrupted the 
 
 stranger, with a look of such fearless wickedness 
 that it reminded me of that look which in times 
 past I had so often observed upon the features of 
 Edwin St. Clair. " Behold !"— and he drew forth 
 a double-barrelled pistol. 
 
 I instinctively recoiled two or three paces at 
 the sight of the weapon ; and clutching Beda by 
 the arm, I likewise drew her back. 
 
 " Think not," continued that ruffian who wore 
 the outward semblance of gentility, " that I shall 
 be afraid to use this weapon : for I have already 
 told you that you are to regard me as one stand- 
 ing in a desperate position. Hear me, then, while 
 I swear that if you do not enter into the compact 
 which I shall presently propose to you, I will level 
 you both dead at my feet ! I will then set fire to 
 the building— and in a short time not a trace of 
 the deed will be left! Look! behold ! there are 
 quantities of timber in this building — the confla- 
 gration would spread rapidly " 
 
 " My God ! is it possible," I exclaimed, " that 
 any being in mortal shape can give utterance to 
 such horrible menaces ?" 
 
 " Yes — here stands the being !" responded the 
 stranger ; " and rest assured that he is a man en- 
 dowed with desperate energies ! Will you hear 
 the compact which I have to propose? I have 
 already told you. Miss Percy, that I have full 
 faith in your honour and integrity ; and I know 
 that if you swear to keep a given pledge your vow 
 will be sacred. Swear, then, that never during 
 my lifetime will you breathe to a living soul one 
 single tittle or particular of the discourse you yes- 
 terday heard pass betwixt me and the old gipsy 
 crone I Swear that if you hereafter find out who 
 I am, you will keep the seal of silence upon your 
 lips ! Swear that you will do nothing which shall 
 I in any way compromise my safety ! That girl 
 who is with you must likewise swear in the same 
 sense and to a similar effect. You yourself, Miss 
 Percy, will take the oath on her account as well as 
 on your own ; for I must have every possible 
 guarantee on the one hand, if I consent to aban- 
 don the alternative of utter desperation on the 
 other hand." 
 
 I shuddered from bead to foot as the wretch 
 was thus addressing me ; and by this time I had 
 seen sufficient of his character to be only too well 
 aware that he was thoroughly capable of carrying 
 out his murderous design if the compact which he 
 proposed should be refused. The farm-building 
 was in a lonely place — there stood that desperate 
 villain, with a doublebarelled pistol at a distance 
 of about a dozen paces from Beda and myself— 
 the only other person within earshot was Black 
 Ned, holding the horse, and he was not to be ap- 
 pealed to for succour in this terrible strait ! 
 
 " You see. Miss Percy," continued the stranger, 
 " I am content to place my life upon an oath 
 from your lips. It is the highest compliment 
 which could possibly be paid to your character for 
 truthfulness. I do frankly confess that I enter- 
 tain so elevated an opinion of you " 
 
 " Do not be moved by what he says. Miss !" 
 ejaculated the intrepid Beda : " he dares not ac- 
 complish this tremendous crime !" 
 
 " And what if the scaffold or transportation 
 were looming before my eyes ?" said the stranger, 
 " think you not that I should adopt any course 
 no matter how desperate in order to place myself
 
 in security ? On my soul, it is no vain threat on 
 my part! Such a joke would be insensate to a 
 degree ! Decide quickly— time is passing !— and 
 a decision must be arrived at ! As there is a 
 
 Leaven above us " 
 
 "And a hell yawning at your feet, miserable 
 man !" I said with solemn emphasis 
 
 "We will risk all that," he rejoined, with a 
 mingled hardihood and levity which served as an 
 additional corroboration, if any were required, of 
 the idea I had already formed of his desperate 
 character. "Now then, decide!" he ejaculated : 
 and bis pale countenance displayed a horrible 
 firmness. "This is no child's play ! — you both 
 stand upon the threshold of a terrible tragedy- 
 murder and conflagration By heaven, it is 
 
 true ! and your minutes are numbered unless you 
 kneel and invoke God to attest the oath which 
 you are to take to my dictation !" 
 
 " Oh, my poor Beda!" I cried, bursting into 
 tears : "in what horrible dangers have I involved 
 you!— to what a frightful precipice have I in my 
 madness brought you !" 
 
 "Do not weep for me, dearest mistress ! — kind 
 and excellent friend!" exclaimed Beda, throwing 
 herself into my arms. "I care not for myself! 
 
 But your life is so precious " 
 
 " Oh ! were it but my life alone, dear girl," I 
 murmured, as I strained her to my bosom, " no- 
 thing should induce me to save it on such condi- 
 tions ! But you whom I have brought to the 
 
 verge of this fearful peril " 
 
 " Decide quick !" exclaimed the stranger : " for 
 I am impatient!" — and the sharp click of the 
 pistol, as it was being cocked, fell upon our 
 ears. 
 
 At that instant an idea struck me : my mind, 
 rapid as a lightning flash, glanced over the details 
 of the oath which the villain had dictated ; and still 
 straining Beda in my arms, I hastily whispered 
 to her, " We will purchase our lives on his condi- 
 tions! — our deaths would leave him only the more 
 free to prosecute his iniquities in other quarters !" 
 " Do as you will, dear Miss," replied Beda, 
 also in a whisper : " it is for you to decide in this 
 as in everything !" 
 
 Disengaging myself from the faithful girl's 
 embrace, I turned towards the gentleman-rufiian, 
 and said, "Two helpless females cannot contend 
 against one who is armed with the two-fold wea- 
 pons of a pistol and a murderous intent ! We 
 accept your proposition." 
 
 " 'Tis well !" answered the stranger. " You 
 know the oath which I dictated ? Eepeafc it— let 
 the girl likewise repeat it — and then your lives 
 shall be spared !" 
 
 " I swear," I said, and I made a tign for Beda 
 to repeat the words which were issuing from my 
 lips, — " I swear that I will not during your life- 
 time breathe to a living soul aught which I yes- 
 terday heard pass between yourself and the old 
 gipsy woman ! I swear that I will say nothing 
 wlaich shall compromise your safety — and that if I 
 should herealter discover who you are, I will not 
 say to any one that I am acquainted with aught 
 to your prejudice !" 
 
 " To all this you swear ?" said the stranger : 
 " and you call heaven to attest the validity of your 
 oath ?" 
 
 " I swear," I answered. 
 
 "And I likewise swear to the same effect," 
 added Beda firmly. 
 
 "You also swear," continued the stranger, still 
 holding the pistol in a menacing manner, " that 
 you will not at any time hereafter, so long as I 
 live, violate this oath on the ground that it was 
 extorted from you by threats of death ? You will 
 not seek to put this salve upon your conscience, 
 and either consider or affect to consider that your 
 duty to society constrains the violation of such an 
 oath P In short, on no plea and under no pretext 
 is your vow to be broken : and to this you likewise 
 swear ?" 
 
 " To all this I likewise swear,'* I said, in a firm 
 tone. 
 
 " And I also," added Beda. 
 The stranger reflected for a few moments ; and 
 then he said, " I do not think that I have af- 
 forded you any loophole to escape from the bind- 
 ing solemnity of this oath. You are honourable. 
 Miss Percy — and I am assured likewise that your 
 youthful dependant, taking you as an example, is 
 high-minded and sincere ; and therefore it is not 
 only the exact text, but hkewise the spirit of the 
 oath that must be adhered to," 
 
 " The vow," I replied, " as dictated by yourself, 
 is so special in its terms — so precise and unmis- 
 takable—that its entire spirit is contained in its 
 language." 
 
 " Thank you for this candour, Miss Percy," re- 
 joined the stranger. " I am now about to leave 
 you; and I on my part swear that so far as I my- 
 self am concerned, neither of you need apprehend 
 any farther molestation nor hindrance. 1 believe 
 however that the gipsies will exact a vow having 
 the effect of impunity for themselves ; and then 
 you will both be restored to freedom." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the stranger hastily re- 
 treated from the room ; and he instantaneously 
 replaced the wooden bar outside. 
 
 " We are still prisoners, my dear Beda !" I said, 
 in some degree of consternation at the closing 
 incident of the scene. " I thought that we were 
 to be restored to immediate freedom — and I ought 
 to have stipulated for it before we took the 
 oath !" 
 
 " Is the oath really binding ?" inquired Beda, 
 "Alas, yes!" I responded: " to all intents and 
 purposes it is binding! But listen. We did not 
 pledge ourselves to abstain from adopting any 
 course to frustrate the iniquitous designs of that 
 man, if by accident we should be enabled to dis- 
 cover a clue to them. It was this point which 
 struck me as I rapidly reviewed the terms of the 
 oath which he dictated. We shall find out who 
 he is — we will institute the minutest inquiries into 
 his circumstances and affairs ; and perhaps we 
 shall thereby ascertain who the individual may be 
 that stands inconveniently in his path and whom it 
 would suit his purposes to remove by means of 
 poison. Then, without any violation of our oath, 
 we may find the means of administering the anti- 
 dote—which thank heaven we have in our posses- 
 sion !" 
 
 " And now," said Beda, " what course will you 
 pursue. Miss, in reference to these vile people 
 who still keep us in custody ? See ! the stranger 
 is taking his departure : and now he is whispering 
 to that man who has been holding his horse !" 
 On glanciug through the back window, I per-
 
 ELLEN 3?EKCy; OH, THE MEilOIKS OF \1< ACXHESS. 
 
 397 
 
 ceived that it was as Beda bad just stated ; and 
 now the gentleman rode away. 
 
 "He must live somewhere in this neighbour- 
 hood," I said ; " and if we gain our freedom, we 
 shall have no dif&culty in discovering who he is. 
 But in the past hour, Beda," I added solemnly, 
 " we have escaped a frightful danger ; and though 
 we have still an unscrupulous wretch in the shape 
 of the old gipsy-woman to deal with, yet we must 
 not despair !" 
 
 " You understood, Miss, what the stranger said ? 
 It is purposed to extort from us a similar 
 oath " 
 
 " Hush !" I said : " some one is approaching !" 
 
 In a few moments the door was opened ; and 
 Black Ned made his appearance, armed with his 
 stout bludgeon, as if ho thought that it was expe- 
 dient to assume a menacing aspect and to endea- 
 vour to overawe us as much as possible. 
 
 " So you've come to an understanding with that 
 gentleman, my pretty birds," said Black Ned, 
 with a gay familiar smile. " Well, so much the 
 better ! — there is nothing like settling business in a 
 comfortable way ! I think I can now promise 
 that in a few hours you will be ecabled to take 
 your departure; for Dame Betty will call upon 
 you in the evening ; and you've only got to go 
 through the same ceremony with her as you did 
 with that gentleman. She is obliged to go into 
 Petersfield on a little business, which may detain 
 her till the after-part of the day ; and so you must 
 have patience." 
 
 Elick Ned paused; and as neither Beda nor 
 myself spoke a syllable of either comment or 
 reply, he went on to say, " I told the gentleman 
 as how you had pitched your food out of the 
 window — at which he was very much concerned ; 
 for he said your conduct was very lady-like, and 
 he didn't wish you to be persecuted. So ho has 
 just ridden round to the cottage to give orders 
 that the best dinner possible shall be presently 
 served up to you. I hope, therefore, you will be 
 able to make yourselves comfortable until the 
 evening, when you can very soon settle your little 
 business with Dame Betty — and then you will be 
 free." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Black Ned retired from 
 the room ; and again was the wooden bar fastened 
 outside the door. 
 
 " If we take this oath," I said to Beda, " fare- 
 well to all the projects which brought us down 
 into this part of the world !— and never from 
 Dame Betty's lips may I succeed in extorting the 
 information it so much behoves me to acquire !" 
 
 "Then what will you do, MissP" asked Beda. 
 " Be not influenced on my account — think only of 
 that which best suits your own interests " 
 
 "We will be guided by circumstances," I re- 
 sponded : then, after a few moments' reflection, I 
 said, " This man alone is left to guard us " 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Beda, with lightning rapidity 
 fathoming the idea which had sprung up in my 
 mind: "the same thought for a moment struck 
 me ! While Black Ned was in the room, I glanced 
 towards you : if at the instant your eye had met 
 mine, and you had compi-ehended the significancy 
 of my look, the attempt should have been made ! 
 But I dared not act unless in prompt accord with 
 
 yourself: otherwise " 
 
 " Well, my dear Beda," I said, " we will give 
 
 the subject our most serious consideration. The 
 man will return presently to bring us tho pro- 
 mised food ; and we may then adopt a decisive 
 course." 
 
 I continued to discuss with my faithful depen - 
 dant the plan which had suggested itself ; and wo 
 agreed that if circumstances permitted, we would 
 put it into execution. Preparatory to that pro- 
 ceeding, we broke up ono of the crazy old chairs, 
 so as to supply ourselves with a couple of stout 
 staves — which we concealed on the bed, beneath 
 our shawls. As for tho residue of the broken 
 chair, we put all those fragments completely out 
 of sight under the bed. Wo now examined the 
 trap-door which Black Ned had put up to the 
 front window as a shutter ; and finding that there 
 was a chink in the pieces of deal boards which 
 formed it, we took turns to keep watch in tho 
 direction of the cottage. 
 
 The time passed away ; and as near as we could 
 judge (for I had left my watch at the hotel) it 
 was between four and five o'clock in the afternoon 
 when Beda, who was peeping through a chink at 
 the time, announced that tho tall gipsy female was 
 approaching with a large basket, which she car- 
 ried upon her head, like market-women in Covent 
 Garden. Beda and 1 hastily recapitulated the de- 
 tails of the project which we had determined to 
 adopt : and then we awaited the moment for car- 
 rying our design into execution — always sup- 
 posing that circumstances would permit. I should 
 observe that Black Ned had been for the most 
 part stationed in the adjoining room, smoking his 
 pipe, — no doubt keeping watch there that he 
 might be ready to rush in upon us in case any 
 stranger should come that way and the slightest 
 sound should be overheard of the trap-door shutter 
 being taken down in our prison-apartment. All 
 of a sudden we heard Black Ned exclaiming, 
 " There's a delicious smell ! If this don't tempt 
 the young birds in the next room to keep their 
 food instead of pitching it out of the window, I'm 
 sure I don't know what will! What is it you 
 have got f" 
 
 Then we heard the woman reply, " A nice roast 
 fowl — a bit of bacon — a dish of greens and pota- 
 toes." 
 
 " Capital 1" cried Black Ned: "it makes my 
 mouth water ! But when they have done I shall 
 have a rare feast on what they leave behind." 
 
 " Come, help me down with this basket," said 
 the woman in a surly tone. "Don't you think 
 it's heavy enough ?" 
 
 " Here you are !" said Black Ned, " it's done in 
 the twinkling of an eye ! The tray — a lily white 
 napkin — everything suitable! Well, never were 
 prisoners so nicely regaled before !" 
 
 " There I" ejaculated the woman in a tone of 
 vexation, " if I haven't gone and forgotten the 
 bread !" 
 
 " Then run back to the cottage as quick as ever 
 you can and fetch it," said Black Ned. " I'll 
 arrange all these things neat and tidy on the tray 
 while you're gone. You won't be many mi- 
 nutes." 
 
 " What a deal of trouble it all is !" growled the 
 woman ; and then wo heard her descending the 
 ladder-like stairs. 
 
 " Everything is favourable," I whispered to 
 Beda, with n sense of exultation at the heart:
 
 398 
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THB MBMOIRS OB' AH ACTEES9. 
 
 " we shall only have one at a time to deal 
 with !" 
 
 For the next two or three tninufcea we heard 
 Black Nod arranging the dishes and bottles upon 
 the tray ; and then he began to remove the 
 wooden bar from the door. He opened the door 
 — he lifted up the tray from the floor, where he 
 had been arranging it — and he entered the room. 
 "With a countenance expressive of good humour — 
 doubtless in anticipation of the remnant of the 
 feast on which he had calculated — Black Ned ex- 
 claimed with a smile, " Here, my birds, is some- 
 thing to cheer your captivity ! But that won't 
 be very long if you are wise— as I have no doubt 
 you intend to be." 
 
 While he was yet speaking, a rapid exchange 
 of glances passed betwixt Beda and myself : and 
 then the next moment wo precipitated ourselves 
 upon the gipsy-man. Down fell the tray, every- 
 thing upon it tumbling with a crash ; and the 
 floor was bespread with the viands and the con- 
 tents of the bottles. Beda had said at the out- 
 set of our enterprise that she had the energy to 
 spring like a tigress at any one of the foes whom 
 we might have to encounter; and iu good sooth 
 she fulfilled her promise now. From beneath 
 the shawls upon the bed did she snatch the 
 bludgeons which we had provided and which the 
 broken chair had furnished ; and just at the mo- 
 ment when with a cry of rage Black Ned was 
 about to spring up from the floor, Beda bestowed 
 upon him a merciless blow. It struck him upon 
 the head ; and he sank back heavily. For an in- 
 stant I feared that the wretch was slain : but we 
 quickly discovered that he was only stunned ; — 
 and that he was thus rendered insensible was a 
 fortunate circumstance, inasmuch as it enabled 
 us to complete our work without further trouble. 
 With the cordage which had been used for fasten- 
 ing the bar outside the door, we bound his arms 
 and legs : we then cut away the rope which was 
 hanging from the pulley over the trapdoor in the 
 .'adjacent room; and with a portion of this fresh 
 cord we attached him in such a way to one of the 
 iron bars of the windows that it was utterly im- 
 possible for him either to free himself from his 
 bonds or to remove from the spot where we left 
 him lying. 
 
 Thus far we had succeeded ; and we exchanged 
 looks of triumph. We then gathered up the re- 
 mainder of the cord, which we required for an- 
 other purpose; and we peeped through the chink 
 in the shutter of the front window to see whether 
 the tall gipsy-woman was yet returning. Yes — 
 sure enough, she was hastening across the field, 
 with something which proved to be the loaf of 
 bread, enveloped in a white napkin. Beda and I 
 hastily descended the ladder-like steps; and we 
 concealed ourselves on each side of the door in the 
 manner most convenient for pouncing upon the 
 woman. In a few minutes she came tripping in : 
 but in the twinkling of an eye she was hurled 
 down, thrown upon her back, and overpowered. 
 For a moment she struggled : but Beda, brandish- 
 ing the bludgeon before her countenance, vowed 
 that she would mercilessly strike if the woman did 
 not keep still. A diabolical expression of rage 
 appeared upon her features : but she off'ered no 
 further resistance. We bound her with the cord 
 — but leaving a suflicient length for the pur- 1 
 
 • pose of her further restraint ; and we likewise 
 used the napkin which enveloped the bread, to 
 fasten around her limbs. We then by main force 
 dragged her up the ladder into the room where 
 we had left Black Ned ; and wo attached the ex- 
 tremity of the cord which hold her powerless, to 
 one of the bars of the other window. She spoke 
 not a syllable : but a look of almost wild surprise 
 seized upon her coutitenanca as she caught the 
 first glimpse of Black Ned's prostrate form. He 
 was now just beginning to recover : broken impre- 
 cations were issuing from his lips ; but Beda and 
 I, hurrying from the room, closed the door. 
 
 " They are safely bound," I said : " but still we 
 will make doubly sure I" 
 
 We now looked about for something wherewith 
 to fasten up the wooden bar which had hitherto 
 been used to keep the door secure against our- 
 selves ; and in a corner I luckily found a long 
 stout piece of rope. This we used in the same 
 manner as the gipsies had used the cordage which 
 originally bound the hands of Beda and myself: 
 namely, by fastening it to the strong latch and 
 then around the bar itself. 
 
 I need hardly add that we had taketi care to 
 bring out our bonnets and shawls from the room 
 which had served as our prison ; and now hastily 
 putting them on, we quitted the farm-buildings. 
 It was our intention to speed back to Petersfield 
 with the least possible delay, — when all of a sud- 
 den Beda exclaimed, "There is the old woman !" 
 
 And sure enough, there she was within fifty 
 yards of the cottage, towards which she was 
 hobbling. The idea struck me that it would be 
 an admirable sequence to the feat which wo had 
 just performed, if we could turn the tables com- 
 pletely on Dame Betty by compelling her to enter 
 upon the confession which had been so abruptly 
 nipped at the outset on the preceding evening : 
 but I was loath to compel my faithful Beda to 
 run any additional risk. She however divined 
 what was passing in my imagination, as I stopped 
 short and gazed wistfully in the direction where 
 Dame Betty's form was still visible ; and she at 
 once said, " Come, my dear Ivliss, our path does 
 not lie back to Petersfield : — it is yonder !" 
 
 " No, Beda," I said ; " much though I myself 
 
 might be inclined " 
 
 " And are not my interests identical with 
 your's ?" ejaculated the intrepid girl. " Oh ! it 
 would be leaving our work only half done! — and 
 remember, my dear Miss Percy, that never again 
 may you perhaps find such an opportunity ! Be- 
 sides, I am convinced you must feel inspired with 
 
 all possible courage " 
 
 " Well then, ray dear Beda, since you insist 
 upon it, we will go ! Yet remember, there is still 
 
 that man whom they call John " 
 
 " He does not appear to have been anywhere 
 about the neighbourhood to-day," replied Beda; 
 " and it is at all events something that we must 
 risk. Come, Miss ! — ten to one we shall catch 
 the vile old dame alone ; and if so, we will wring 
 the needful confession from her lips." 
 
 During the latter part of this conversation 
 Dame Betty had disappeared from our view, — 
 she having entered her cottage. It was now 
 growing dusk ; and we sped in the direction of 
 that habitation. We however made something of 
 a circuit, so as to avoid being seen from the back
 
 windows; and we thus reached the side of the 
 cottage, iu which there was no window at all. 
 Then we glided round towards the front door ; and 
 we saw a light shining through the window of the 
 same room where the adventure of the preceding 
 evening had taken place. The shutter was not 
 now closed, so that we could peep into that room; 
 and we beheld Dame £otty just iu the act of 
 bringing forth a bottle and a mug from the cup- 
 board. There was already a pewter flagon — no 
 doubt filled with water — on tho table; so that it 
 was evident the dame was about to enjoy her- 
 self. 
 
 " I am afraid we shall interrupt her pleasure," 
 whispered Beda, " and in a manner that will prove 
 somewhat astonishing. She is probably intent on 
 fortifying herself with some strong waters previ- 
 ous to the interview which she of course expects 
 she is presently to have with us up at the farm- 
 buildings." 
 
 " Now for the final campaign, my dear girl !" I 
 said, whispering to Beda ; and we stepped up to 
 the front-door. 
 
 We found that it opened by means of a com- 
 mon handle : we entered — and then wo opened 
 the door leading into the room where Dame 
 Betty had just seated herself. The very instant 
 we opened the door, she querulously cried forth, 
 " Where have you been all this time ?" — evidently 
 fancying that it was the attendant who had re- 
 turned. 
 
 But a sudden cry of rago and astonishment 
 burst from her lips on beholding us ; and the next 
 instant she was in our power. 
 
 " Now, vile woman," I cried, " everything has 
 turned against you ! — but still will I give you the 
 same chance that last evening I afforded. Down 
 upon your knees — confess your iniquitiea —and 
 you may reckon upon saving your life !" 
 
 " Miss Percy," said the old hag, " this is too 
 bad of you when I was just coming up to set you 
 free of my own accord ! But how did it happen ? 
 who was it that " 
 
 " We emancipated ourselves," I interrupted 
 her ; " and it will be well if you presently go to 
 our recent prison-house to release your accom- 
 plices: otherwise, in the condition we have left 
 them, powerless and motionless as they are, they 
 may perhaps perish with the night's cold." 
 
 " Ob, you are a wonderful young lady, and no 
 one can contend against you!" exclaimed the 
 harridan, who was now endeavouring to adopt a 
 fawning, cajoling air. 
 
 " Cease this useless verbiage," I said j " and 
 confess your iniquities !" 
 
 "Yes, yes— 1 will confess — I will tell you 
 everything," said the hag, in a tremulous tone : 
 " but pray have mercy upon me!" — and she sank 
 upon her knees. 
 
 " First and foremost," I exclaimed, " answer 
 me this question — and by your reply bball I be 
 enabled to judge whether you mean truthfully to 
 unbosom yourself of your many deeds of turpi- 
 tude. Say then — how happened it that some 
 seven or eight years ago — I kuow not exactly how 
 many— periiups more than I have said,— how hap- 
 pened it, I <xtk, that certain of your enveuouied 
 lozenges fell into the hands of a person bearing 
 the name of Parks P" 
 
 Ii< was almost a shriek of mingled surprise and 
 
 affright which the infamous woman sent forth 
 from her lips as I mentioned that name. I was 
 therefore at once convinced that my conjecture 
 was correct, and that her iniquitous hands had 
 proved the source of the poison which had de- 
 prived my grandfather of his life ! 
 
 " Ah, there is guilt in your accents ! guilt 
 stamped upon your countenance !" I exclaimed, 
 my soul terribly excited at the thought that the 
 wretch before me had been, so to speak, tho mur- 
 deress of my grandfather. " Say ! to whom did 
 you sell your drugs ? Was it to Mrs. Parks — or 
 to her son— or to both P Speak quick ! — tho truth 
 shall be extorted from you ! Confess — or we will 
 at once drag you off to Potersfield and consign 
 you into the hands of justice!" 
 
 " Yes — speak, infamous woman !" cried Beda, 
 also adopting an air of menace towards the bag, 
 who was now kneeling before us. 
 
 "Miss Percy, I mean to confess everything — I 
 mean to tell you everything !" said Dame Betty, 
 her voice all quivering, as well as her frame, with 
 the violent emotions that shook her. " But for 
 heaven's sake spare me ! do not send an old 
 woman like me to the scaffold ! I will tell you 
 
 Let me reflect P It is now the year 1812 
 
 Well, then, as near as I can remember, it 
 
 must have been as mucti as eight or nine years 
 
 back that I happened to be at York " 
 
 " Ah !" I ejaculated, " where Thomas Parks 
 lived at the time !" 
 
 " Yes, yes — he was a lawyer's clerk," continued 
 Dame Betty. " I remember him well — he had 
 red hair — his face was all covered with freckles — 
 
 his eyelashes were white — he wore spectacles ■ 
 
 is that the man you speak of?" 
 
 "The very same," I answered. " But be quick!" 
 — for I saw that the dame, even while she knelt, 
 was glancing either furtively or abstractedly 
 around — and I did not altogether like her look. 
 
 "Well then," she continued, "I fell in with 
 that man But, Ah! Miss Percy," she sud- 
 denly interrupted herself, " what if I could give 
 you proofs of the tale I am about to tell? — 
 what if I could show you letters that had 
 
 passed " 
 
 "If you could do this," I eagerly interjected, 
 — "if you could show me how the guilt is to bo 
 incontrovertibly brought home to Thomas Parks, 
 I would spare you to the utmost extent of my 
 
 power: for you know not the importance " 
 
 " Well, Miss Percy," said the harridan, slowly 
 rising from her kneeling posture, " I am in your 
 power — I must do all that I can — and as it is now 
 
 a matter of saving myself " 
 
 "It is. But be quick! be quick!— for time 
 presses !" 
 
 " A few moments will settle the business," an- 
 swered the dame. " That cupboard"— aud a'.io 
 pointed to one which stood in a recess — " contains 
 all the documentary evidence which you may re- 
 quire." 
 
 Thus speaking. Dame Betty took up the candle 
 from the table, and began hobbling towards the 
 cupboard. 
 
 " Beware of treachery, dearest Miss !" hastily 
 
 whispered Beda. "She may have pistols " 
 
 "One word, dame!" I ejaculated, clutching the 
 old woman by the arm. " You will perhaps suffer 
 me to look into the cupboard for you— aud you
 
 4C'U 
 
 miEJf PEKCr; OB, THE JIEIIOIES OF AN ACXEESS. 
 
 caa tell ine where I may lay my hand upon the 
 documents," 
 
 " There is a secret spring, Miss," responded 
 Dame Betty : " you could not open it." 
 
 " Perhaps not," I said : " but at all events you 
 and I will go to the cupboard together." 
 
 " Oh, to be sure! I would much rather indeed ! 
 —for i know you have every reason to mistrust 
 me. But now I am behaving fairly towards 
 you " 
 
 " Then let me at onco have the proof of it," I 
 exclaimed. 
 
 I kept close by the side of Dame Betty ; and 
 Beda was immediately behind us. Oa reaching 
 the cupboard door, the dame opened it ; and she 
 at ouce placed the candle upon one of the shelves. 
 The cupboard contained a miscellaneous quantity 
 of articles— Guch as clothes, jars, bottles, provi- 
 sions, candles, and so forth, 
 
 "The secret spring is here," said Dame Betty, 
 thrusting both her hands into the midst of the 
 articles of raiment. 
 
 I was so close to her that our forms touched : I 
 held my own hands in readiness to seize upon her 
 in case she should draw forth a weapon from 
 amongst those garments ; and Beda was close be- 
 hind, also prepared to spring upon her. 
 
 "Ah! there is somebody coming!" suddenly 
 ejaculated the dame, as if in a tone of exulta- 
 tion. 
 
 I glanced towards the door of the room — Beda 
 sprang to the table and caught up a knife which 
 lay there : but at that very instant the treacherous 
 old hag thrust something into my face— and con- 
 sciousness abandoned me as if lightning had 
 stricken ray brain. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 THE STErGGLE. 
 
 I HAD better here describe in the form of consecu- 
 tive recital what then took place in the cottage, as 
 it was subsequently explained to me from the lips 
 of Beda. 
 
 The ejaculation of the treacherous old woman, 
 to the effect that somebody was coming, had sent 
 Beda bounding towards the table to snatch up the 
 knife : for the intrepid girl was resolved that if 
 fresh dangers menaced us, we should not be again 
 overpowered without a desperate resistance. But 
 scarcely bad Beda thus caught hold of the weapon, 
 when she heard something fall heavily ; and 
 glancing back, she had just time to perceive that 
 I was lying motionless on the floor — and then 
 Dame Betty aimed at the young girl a terrific 
 blow with her crutch. Beda instinctively raised 
 her arm to ward it off: but the crutch struck her 
 with such violence that the knife was jerked from 
 her hand, and her arm fell to her side, powerless 
 as if brol^cn. A savage yell of triumph burst 
 from the lips of Dame Betty : she aimed another 
 despe/ate blow at Beda — but the young girl 
 started back, thereby avoiding tbis second as- 
 sault, which would perhaps have proved fatal. 
 But she tripped over something and fell upon the 
 floor. Another cry of fiendish exultation burst 
 from the lips of the old hag ; and with the fury of 
 
 a demoness did she precipitate herself upon Eeda's 
 prostrate form. Tbo knife was within the ha ''s 
 reach: she snatched it up— and in the twinkling 
 of an eye it would have been all over with my 
 faithful dependant, when suddenly the rustling of 
 a dress was heard at the door, and the words, 
 " Forbear, I command you !" reverberated through 
 the room. 
 
 Dame Betty looked up; and in the twinkling of 
 an eye her wrist was caught by the entering 
 female — the knife was snatched from her hand 
 and hurled into a corner of the apartment. 
 
 " Zarah !" ejaculated the hag. 
 
 " Zarah I dear Zarah ! you have saved my life !" 
 exclaimed Beda, now hurling the harridan off her 
 and springing up to her feet. 
 
 " Good heavens, Ellen !" cried Zarah, now ca'ch- 
 ing eight of me as I lay senseless upon the floor : 
 and she bounded towards me. " Vile wicked 
 woman !" she exclaimed, darting a fierce look of 
 anger, loathing, and abhorrence at her grand- 
 mother, "is this the way you keep the solemn 
 pledges you made me ?" 
 
 " Por heaven's sake save my dear mistress ! 
 save her if you can, Zarah !" cried Beda, full of 
 terror and anguish ; lor my countenance was pale 
 as death, and I indeed looked like one dead. 
 
 But in the meanwhile Zarah had not been idle. 
 She had taken from about her person a small 
 smelling-bottle containing some powerful scent ; 
 and she had applied it to my nostrils. I slowly 
 began to recover — but very slowly in. eedj so that 
 when my eyes opened I had but a dim conscious- 
 ness of whose countenance it was that was bend- 
 ing over mine as Zarah sustained me in her arms. 
 
 " Hold your mistress thus, Beda, for a few 
 minutes," snid Z.irah : and she consigned me to 
 the care of the faithful girl. 
 
 I should observe that Beda had by this time 
 recovered the use of the arm which had been 
 smitten with the crutch ; it was not broken, nor 
 indeed seriously injured, though for many days 
 afterwards it rctrdued the marks of the blow that 
 had been inflicted. 
 
 " Come with mo," said Zarah, speaking in an 
 imperious tone to the old woman. 
 
 Tbe hag obeyed her ; for she evidently stood 
 much in fear of her granddaughter. They went 
 forth together into the passage, where they stood 
 upon the threshold of the front door, conversing 
 in a low tone. Beda — though keeping her eyes 
 anxiously and affectionately riveted on my coun- 
 tenance-listened with suspended breath to catch, 
 if possible, anything of what was taking place 
 between Mrs, St, Clair and her grandmother. 
 She could not hear a syllable which was spoken 
 by the old woman : but tbe following broken 
 sentences, forming part of what Zarah was saying, 
 were overheard by Beda: — 
 
 " You pledged yourself never again to harm 
 her — you have violated your promises— wretched 
 woman — must end by driving her to invoke the 
 aid of the taw — scaffold — ignominious death! 
 Why pursue these nefarious ways— offered you a 
 competency — your stupid gipsy prejudices — re- 
 fused to take anything from my hand — prefer ac- 
 quiring money— all kinds of tortuous means— 
 ovej' involved in plots and intrigues — my firm 
 resoluiion — yes, do not misunderstand me— there 
 shall bo an end — on the Continent for lit'e."
 
 LADY KELVBDON 
 
 Thi8 was all Beda could catch: but st.U those 
 broker, sentences conveyed sufficient to render the 
 faithful girl fully aware that Zarah was altogether 
 our friend, and that she not merely deprecated the 
 Tile proceedings of her grandmother, but was re- 
 lolved to put an end to them. S'^V^V aftr 
 W returned into the room ; and Zarah after 
 castin.^ a glance upon my countenance and per- 
 ce V ini th "t I was in a fair way towards recovery 
 again turned her fierce angry looks upon the old 
 woman, exclaiming, "And now begone 1 
 No. 61.— Ellen Pekct. 
 
 "No! no!" cried Beda: "let her not depart! 
 She will bring hither others——" 
 
 " She will not dare do so," interrupted Zarah 
 emphatically. "Trust everything to me, Beda: 
 you and your dear mistress are sale! Begone, 
 grandmother !-and remember what I have told 
 
 ^°The old dame, mumbling something that was 
 inaudible-looking half savage and half discom- 
 fited-was moving towards the cupboard, whea 
 Zirah clutched her forcibly by the arm, exclaim-
 
 402 
 
 ELLEN PilSCT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OV AH ACTRESS. 
 
 ing, " Xo ! you shall take nothing thence ! — you 
 require nothing! Depart, I insist ! — or by every- 
 thing sacred I swear that I will not protect you 
 from Eilen Percy's righteous vengeance— and if 
 jou tarry long enough to afford her time to breathe 
 a wish that you be given into custody, X will not 
 speak a syllable nor stretch forth a hand to save 
 
 you!" ,., , 
 
 Dame Betty flung a look of mingled defiance 
 and deprecating entreaty upon her granddaughter : 
 but Zarah was evidently resolute — and she felt 
 that ehe had the power to dictate and to com- 
 mand with the certainty of being obeyed. The 
 hag muttered something between her lips — drew 
 the hood of her cloak over her head — and hobbled 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Now, dear Beda," said Zarah, '•' we must get 
 your mistress away : my carriage is waiting at no 
 very great distance " 
 
 "Zarah, dear Zarah," I murmured — for the 
 faculty of speech was now slowly returning, and 
 my ideas were recovering from bewilderment and 
 confusion — " is it to you that I am indebted for 
 my life r" 
 
 "Yes— it is Zarah who has saved you, my be- 
 loved mistress ?" exclaimed Beda, affectionately 
 kissing me on both cheeks, as she still sustained 
 me in her arms. 
 
 " Vile old woman !" muttered Zarah, in accents 
 that were just audible : and stooping down, she 
 picked up from the floor a dingy crumpled artifi- 
 cial white rose. 
 
 Ah ! that white rose ! — it was the weapon with 
 which Dame Betty had so treacherously worked ! 
 i— the weapon with which she had sought to take 
 my life ! Zarah threw it into the fire, with every 
 evidence of horror, disgust, and loathing : and then 
 she ransacked the cupboard to glance at its con* 
 tents. Three or four bottles as well as little boxes 
 did she take thence ; and all these she threw into 
 the fire likewise. 
 
 " I know not what they contain," she said, as 
 she heaped more wood upon the grate : " but this 
 at least is the safest way to deal with them. And 
 now, dear Ellen, do you feel yourself well enough 
 to walk ?" 
 
 " Yes," I said, rising from Beda's arms, and at 
 first resting my hand upon her shoulder : " the 
 dizziness is passing away from me." 
 
 " Inhale that scent once more, and you will be 
 quite well," said Zarah. 
 
 I applied to my nostrils the little smelling- 
 bottle which she handed me ; and the salutary 
 effects were speedily felt. 
 
 " Xow come quick," said Zarah : " my carriage 
 is at no great distance — and we will repair to 
 Petersfield." 
 
 "We issued forth from the cottage ; and the fresh 
 air completed my restoration. For a few minutes 
 I experienced a slight headach : but by the time 
 we reached the carriage, which was only a quarter 
 «f a mile distant, I was as well as if nothing had 
 occurred. Zarah's travelling-equipage was in 
 waiting : the coachman was on the box — the foot- 
 man opened the door— we all three entered, and 
 the carriage drove away. 
 
 "It happens," observed Zarah, "that I have 
 taken up my quarters at the same hotel where 
 you have been stopping, I have learnt from 
 that wicked woman whom with shame and 
 
 sorrow I am compelled to acknowledge as my 
 relative, everything that has happened. You 
 have been detained prisoners since yesterday even- 
 ing ; and your absence from the hotel must 
 therefore be accounted for. This is not diffi- 
 cult. You will say that you walked a little 
 way out of the town last evening to see a friend— 
 and that being taken Ul, you remained there to 
 sleep. It can be further stated that I accidentally 
 called at the same house ; and finding you there, 
 brought you back in my carriage, as we are inti- 
 mate friends. The discretion of my servants can 
 be relied upon ; and they will say nothing to con- 
 tradict the tale." 
 
 "■ And how did you know, Ziirah," I inquired, 
 " that we had been to Petersfield and had taken 
 up our quarters at that hotel ?" 
 
 " I must give you a few explanations, my dear 
 Ellen," answered Zarah. " Since my marriage 
 with St. Clair I have kept spies to watch the pro- 
 ceedings of my grandmother; and I received a 
 letter from Birmingham, to the effect that Beda 
 had been there making secret inquiries concern- 
 ing the old woman. I thought that there must be 
 something wrong ; and I went to your house in 
 i&reat Ormond Street. There I saw your friend 
 Miss Glen^worth; and without seeming to have 
 any special object in view, I so questioned her 
 that I learnt you had come down to Petersfield. 
 Knowing that my grandmother was in this neigh- 
 bourhooo, I felt convinced that your visit hither, 
 following so closely upon the inquiries instituted 
 by Beda at Embledon and Birmingham, must have 
 some reference to the old woman. I grew 
 alarmed— especially as you had kept me altogether 
 in the dark concerning the business, whatsoever it 
 might be. X at once set off, and I arrived at 
 Petersfield about an hour ago. The first inquiry 
 I made at the hotel, elicited the fact that you had 
 put up there, but that you bad been absent 
 with your dependant since yesterday evening ; so 
 that some little alarm was entertained on your 
 account, though still it was more than half be- 
 lieved that you must have gone to visit some 
 friend who detained you. And now you under- 
 stand, my dear Eilen, how it was that I made my 
 appearance at the cottage some half-hour back." 
 
 " And doubtless, Zarah," I said in a serious 
 tone, " your grandmother informed you of my 
 object " 
 
 " Alas, yes 1" responded Mrs. St. Clair, heaving 
 a profound sigh. "' You sought information rela- 
 tive to some iniquitous transaction which she had 
 with a person ot the name of Parks a few years 
 ago ? You will believe me when I assure you 
 that of this transaction I myself was utterly 
 ignorant until within the hour that is now pass- 
 ing. But rest assured, Ellen, that I will help you 
 in your designs relative to Mr. Parks — though you 
 will not blame me for having ere now adopted a 
 measure to save my grandmother from your ven- 
 geance, most righteous though that vengeance 
 would be : nor will you be astonished if I add that 
 whatsoever may be the course which we shall 
 adopt in reference to Mr. Parks, I shall to the 
 extent of my power continue to screen my grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " I feel, Zarah," I said, " that my position to- 
 wards you is most embarrassing and unpleasant. 
 This evening you have saved my life ; and while oa
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE ME3I0IE3 OF AN ACTEES3. 
 
 4-03 
 
 the one hand I am bound to testify my gratitude 
 to the very utmost, yet on the other hand the 
 welfare of society seems to demand that I should 
 (!hrow aside every consideration and proclaim to 
 the authorities the true character of your grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " Banish the subject from your memory until 
 to-morrow morning, if possible — and then I will 
 tell you something. You will do me this favour, 
 Ellen — will you not?" 
 
 " Impossible were it for me," I rejoined, " to 
 banish from my memory the recollection of your 
 grandmother's many iniquities towards me : but 
 this much will I faithfully promise — that I will take 
 no step with regard to her until you shall have to- 
 morrow made your promised communication. But 
 answer me one thing, Zarah :" — and 1 shuddered 
 as I thought of the topic on which I was about to 
 touch. " It was a white rose," I continued, 
 speaking significantly, " which plunged me into 
 that stupor — would it not have been the stupor of 
 death but for the essence which you made me i 
 inhale P" 
 
 " Alas ! truth compels me to admit that it might | 
 have been," rejoined Zarah ; " though there are 
 some constitutions which resist the strength of the I 
 subtle poison — and the poison itself loses its eflPect, ' 
 or rather its extreme potency after a while." j 
 
 " I thought so," I said ; for vividly to my mind 
 was conjured up the circumstance of Lady Lilla I 
 Essendine's murderous intention towards me, up- 
 wards of a year back, at Mr. Norman's house in ' 
 Hunter Street. i 
 
 " Oh, you may be assured, Ellen," exclaimed j 
 Zirah, in a tone expressive of the strongest feel- 
 ings, " that it is most horribly painful for me to : 
 think or speak of the iniquities of that vile old I 
 woman whom I am compelled to call my grand- i 
 mother !" | 
 
 "Yes, yes — it must bo so!" I said: "and | 
 therefore for the present let us banish the topic." | 
 
 The hotel was now reached ; and on alighting, I 
 saw that it was with satisfaction the domestics be- > 
 held the return of myself and Beda. The tale j 
 which had been agreed upon was told to account I 
 for our absence ; and it was evidently received [ 
 without the slightest suspicion of its being un- i 
 truthful. Indeed, Mrs, St. Clair, as the wife of a ! 
 Right Honourable and a Cabinet Minister, was 
 treated with the highest distinction ,- and the few i 
 words which she threw in to corroborate the state- 
 ment, produced the fullest effect. In about half- 
 an-hour Zarah and I were seated at the dinner- 
 table ; and I took good care that Beda should have 
 an excellent repast served up in her own room ; [ 
 for neither she nor I had tasted a morsel of food | 
 since the preceding day. The excitement of all 
 we had passed through had however sustained us 
 for so many long hours, in a condition which 
 otherwise would have experienced the eflfects of 
 
 sermi famine. I slept well that night : for I was 
 thoroughly exhausted both in mind and body — 
 and I did not awake until a late hour in the 
 morning. 
 
 1 should here incidentally observe that Zarah 
 had not spoken a single syllable in allusion to the 
 business which had brought Dame Betty to the 
 cottage in that neighbourhood — I mean her ini- 
 quitous transaction with the fair-haired stranger. 
 I therefore concluded that the old hag had re- 
 
 1 mained utterly silent upon the subject when con- 
 versing with her grand-daughter on the preceding 
 I evening. I myself had retained a seal upon my 
 lips in reference to that affair: for I was mindful 
 of the oath which I had taken — I considered it to 
 be solemnly binding — and I was consequently 
 careful to abstain from its violation. 
 
 After breakfast Zarah said to me, " I last oveU' 
 ing promised you a certain communication. It 
 can be conveyed in a few words. My grand- 
 mother is leaving England, under the solemn 
 pledge that it shall be for ever. Pardon me— do 
 
 not reproach me for subterfuge or trickery 
 
 but by this time she is altogether beyond your 
 reach ; and therefore whatsoever notion you might 
 have entertained in reference to the duty which 
 you owe to society, is completely set at rest." 
 
 For an instant I was on the point of reproach- 
 ing Zarah for what struck me to be a little 
 piece of treachery on her part : but I checked 
 myself — for I remembered that she had saved my 
 life — I was under numerous obligations to her — 
 and moreover I made allowances for her peculiar 
 position. I thought of all the infamy and dis- 
 grace which would become attached to herself if it 
 were proclaimed to the world that she was s) 
 nearly connected with a wretch of the description 
 of Dame Betty, I therefore contented myself 
 by observing, " I do not blame you, Zarah. All 
 persons in the world have a right to consult their 
 individual interests. And now let the subject 
 drop between us. But in reference to Mr. 
 Parks " 
 
 " Listen, my dear Ellen," interrupted Zarah. 
 " You have just passed through four-and-twenty 
 hours of the greatest excitement j and your mind 
 must have leisure to regain its full equilibrium to 
 recover from its agitation. In two or three days 
 you shall tell me everything which relates to this 
 Mr. Parks : for as yet I know scarcely anything 
 upon the subject. Then, when fully enlightened, 
 I will advise with you — we will take counsel to- 
 gether — and I will see how I can best assist you." 
 
 " Be it so, Zirah," I observed : for I indeed had 
 no inclination to enter immediately upon matters 
 which could not fail to be fraught with a certain 
 degree of renewed excitement. " Ah !" I ejacu- 
 lated, as we were standing together at the win- 
 dow : " behold that beautiful lady in the carriage 
 that is passing by !" 
 
 " She is indeed beautiful," said Zarah. " And 
 that old gentleman " 
 
 " That is Lord Kelvedon," I replied : " and he, 
 as you may observe, is between sixty and seventy 
 years of age. That young lady — who certainly is 
 not more than three-and-twenty — is his wife." 
 
 " Indeed !" ejaculated Zarah : " this is a veri- 
 table illustration of an alliance between December 
 and May !" 
 
 " Lord and Lady Kelvedon are going up to 
 London," said the waiter, who had just entered 
 the room. " But I don't suppose it will be for 
 long, as his lordship has retired from active life, 
 and has declared his intention of passing the rest 
 of his existence for the most part at the Hall. 
 One of the footmen was telling me last evening 
 that my lord and her ladyship were going to Lon- 
 don to-day." 
 
 " And where is their town-mansion P" inquired 
 Zarah.
 
 404 
 
 BI.LEW PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF Alf ACTRESS. 
 
 " In Eaton Square, I believe, ma'am," answered 
 the waiter. 
 
 " Talking of going to London," said Mrs. St. 
 Clair, " reminds me, my dear Ellen, that we have 
 as yet made no arrangement in respect to our own 
 proceedings. You and Beda will of course avail 
 
 yourselves of my travelling-carriage " 
 
 " I thought of remaining in Fetersfield until 
 tomorrow," I said : though I did not reveal the 
 object for which I desired to linger in that town- 
 fa ut the reader will doubtless comprehend that it 
 was for the purpose of ascertaining, if possible, 
 who was the fair-haired stranger that was so inti- 
 mately connected with the incidents at the ruined 
 farm-buildings. 
 
 " My time shall be your's," said Zarah : and 
 then, as the waiter still lingered in the room— for 
 he was clearing away the breakfast things — she 
 added in a low tone, "I understand you, my dear 
 Ellen : you require at least a day's repose before 
 you set out on your return to the metropolis P" 
 
 " Yes— I think I should perhaps be better for 
 a day's rest. Sut do not let me detain you, my 
 
 dear Zarah " 
 
 " If you have really do private business to 
 transact, Ellen — and if I shall not be in your 
 
 way " 
 
 '■ My dear Zarah, how can you think of such a 
 thing ?" 
 
 " Well then," she said, " I will remain with 
 you." 
 
 " And your husband ?" I suggested, still speak- 
 ing in a low whisper ; for the waiter was yet in 
 the room. 
 
 " Ob, we do not interfere with each other !" 
 rejoined Zarah— and a scornful smile wreathed 
 her lip. "We still carry on a species of tacit 
 warfare — still observe appearances before the 
 
 world " 
 
 " There is a beautiful horse !" I ejaculated, as I 
 gave a sudden start : for it was not really the 
 handsome appearance of the animal which had 
 thus struck me— but the exclamation served as a 
 cloak for the effect which the person of the rider 
 himself produced upon me. 
 
 " That gentleman, ma'am," said the waiter, 
 glancing from the window, " is Lord iCelvedon's 
 nephew — Mr. CoUingwood." 
 
 " Ah ! that is Mr. CoUingwood !" I murmured, 
 as a sinking sensation seized upon me ; for at the 
 same moment I comprehended everything. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am— that is Mr. CoUingwood," added 
 the waiter : " and he likewise, I believe, goes up 
 to London to-day." 
 
 The waiter left the room ; and presently I said 
 to Zarah, " AU things considered, my dear friend 
 — though perhaps you will fancy me very fickle 
 
 • but I repeat, all things considered, I would 
 
 rather return to London to-day : for the distance 
 is not great — and one rides so easy in your car- 
 riage '" 
 
 " Be it so, Ellen, by all means 1" exclaimed Mrs. 
 St. Clair, who evidently entertained not the slightest 
 suspicion of any particular motive on my part for 
 thus altering the plan of my proceedings " We 
 will at once give the requisite instructions." 
 
 The orders were accordingly issued — the bill 
 was settled — Zarah's handsome equipage was soon 
 in readiness — and we set off on our return to 
 London. 
 
 CHAPTER LXrX. 
 
 HEEMIONE. 
 
 It was about six o'clock on that evening when 
 Beda and I alighted from Mrs. St. Clair's travel- 
 ling-carriage at the door of my house in Great 
 Ormond Street. I expected to be welcomed by 
 Mary Glentworth : but she was not seen gliding 
 towards me as on any former occasion of my 
 return from a temporary absence. I however 
 thought that she might be in her chamber, and 
 that she had not heard the carriage stop in tke 
 street: but the maid-servant who opened the door, 
 said, " Miss Glentworth has gone to dine with Mr. 
 Wilkinson the lawyer." 
 
 " Indeed !" I ejaculated ; for I was stricken 
 with surprise, wondering why Mr. Wilkinson 
 could have shown Mary this civility, and whether 
 the Duke of Ardleigh might have returned to 
 London earlier than he had expected, and had 
 thought fit to make some immediate communica- 
 tion to his natural daughter. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Miss!" replied the servant-maid; 
 " and Miss Glentworth was yesterday for some 
 hours at Mr. WUkinson's office in Furnival's Inn." 
 " But he does not live at Furnival's Inn ?" I 
 said, more inquiringly than positively ; for I was 
 really ignorant upon the subject. 
 
 "His offices are there, I believe. Miss," an- 
 swered the maid : " but from what Miss Glent- 
 worth said to me, I fancy that his private resi- 
 dence is up at Highbury." 
 
 I ascended to my own chamber, feeling glad 
 that the Duke of Ardleigh's lawyer was taking 
 this notice of Mary Glentworth— but wondering 
 for what purpose it could be. Having changed 
 my toilet, I descended to the dining-room, where 
 dinner was soon served up ; and when the repast 
 was over, I gave way to my reflections on the in- 
 cidents which had occurred in the neighbourhood 
 of Petersfield. 
 
 A little after nine o'clock a cab stopped at the 
 door ; and Mary Glentworth's voice was soon 
 heard in the ball. She was receiving the intel- 
 ligence that I had returned home— ejaculations 
 of joy were bursting from her lips — she sped up 
 to the drawing-room — and we were clasped in 
 each other's arms. 
 
 " Ob, if I had expected you back so soon, my 
 dear Ellen," exclaimed Mary, as she turned to- 
 wards the sofa, on which she threw her bonnet, 
 scarf, and gloves, " I would not have gone out to 
 dinner. You see I did not dress myself in full 
 evening costume ; for Mr. Wilkinson told me that 
 there were only to be himself, his wife, and daugh- 
 ters." 
 
 " But I am glad that you went, my dear 
 
 Mary," I said. " I hope it is a good sign " 
 
 " Oh ! I have absolutely learnt nothing more 
 relative to my uncle's movements than I knew 
 before !" exclaimed Mary; and stiU she was busied 
 in arranging her things upon the sofa, so that her 
 back was towards me. 
 
 " Ah ! her uncle ? She stiU calls him her 
 uncle !" I said to myself ; " and therefore she 
 yet remains ignorant of everything connected wiih 
 this momentous secret in respect to her parent- 
 age."
 
 ELLEN PKECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 495 
 
 " But tell me," ahe continued, no«r hastening to 
 ring the bell for the servant to take her bonnet 
 and scarf up to her chamber, — " tell me how you 
 haTe fared at Petersfield ?" 
 
 " Beda and myself have experienced many ad* 
 ventures," I responded ; " and I will narrate them 
 all presently : suffice it to say for the present that 
 I hare been so far successful as to ascertain that 
 it was really the villain !Mr. Parks who purchased 
 the poison of the old gipsy woman. Bat nothing 
 can be done in that matter for the moment. And 
 now tell me, Mary, why did Mr. Wilkinson seek 
 you? — for it was with pleasure I learnt you were 
 yesterday for some hours at his office." 
 
 " Oh ! he did not seek me," answered Mary 
 Glentworth — and I perceived that the colour 
 mounted to her cheeks : " it was I who sought 
 him. But I am afraid you will be angry that I 
 thus took any step in « matter wherein perhaps 
 I ought to have waited " 
 
 " I cannot be angry with you, Mary : I have 
 no right to be angry ! These are your own per- 
 sonal concerns — and you are fully justified in 
 obeying the suggestions of your own mind. But 
 tell me —^" 
 
 " Well, my dear Ellen," continued Mary Glent- 
 worth, still with a certain confusion and embarrass- 
 ment, so that I feared lest she fancied I was 
 somewhat annoyed at her proceeding ; " I thought 
 I should like to know when there was a chance 
 of my uncle returning to England— I feared that 
 perhaps I might have been forgotten — so I went 
 to Mr. Wilkinson. I had to wait a long, long 
 time before I could see him — he was so busily en- 
 gaged—and then, on being admitted into his pri- 
 vate office, I found him so kind, and he treated 
 me with so much politeness, I remained an hour 
 in conversation with him. Then — then"— and 
 still Mary Glentworth seemed to hesitate — " he 
 
 asked me to dine at his house to-day so I 
 
 went. That is all ! And now tell me your own 
 adventures." 
 
 " Eeally, my dear Mary," I said, " you speak, 
 and look, and act" — for she had a nervous restless- 
 ness about her which grieved me — "just as if you 
 thought I was going to express myself in very 
 strong and angry terms in respect to your pro- 
 ceedings towards Mr. Wilkinson. If you regard 
 me as a sister or as a very dear friend, pray do 
 not look upon me as one who could domineer over 
 you or assume a right to be angry, as if you were 
 a child and I were a very sedate old woman. 
 Eemember, my dear Mary," I added, smiling, 
 " there is not such a vsrj/ great difference be- 
 tween your age and mine ; for I am not yet 
 quite twenty, and you are precisely two months 
 younger !" 
 
 Mary now laughed gaily ; and embracing me, 
 she said, " Pray do tell me your adventures, 
 Ellen !" 
 
 I related them partially to her, but leaving out 
 everything which regarded Mr. CoUingwood ; for 
 I was resolved to respect the solemn oath which j 
 I had taken ; and I knew that Beda would do the | 
 same. I retired early to rest— for I was very ] 
 much fatigued ; and when I awoke in the morn- 
 ing, I said to myself, " Now, ere this day be , 
 passed, I must by some means or another obtain 
 an interview with Lady Eelvedon." 
 
 But how waa this to be accomplished ? On 
 
 what pretence could I seek her ladyship? — and 
 even if obtaining access to her, how could I carry 
 out the project which I had in view and still 
 respect the oath I had taken to Mr. CoUingwood ? 
 The matter was a difficult one ; and I had not 
 made up my mind to any particular course when 
 I descended to the breakfast-table. The morn- 
 ing's letters were soon afterwards delivered; and 
 amongst them was one written in a beautiful hand 
 and coming from Lady Selvedon herself. It had 
 been penned on the previous evening ; and its 
 contents ran as follow :— 
 
 "Eaton Square, April 2, 1812. 
 
 "Lady Kelvedon presents her compliments to 
 Miss Trafford, and requests the favour of a call at 
 Miss Trafford's leisure upon some little business of 
 a professional nature. Lady Kelvedon would 
 prefer receiving Miss Trafford between the hours 
 of four and five in the afternoon on any early 
 day." 
 
 I was much struck by the singularity of this 
 coincidence : it seemed as if heaven itself had 
 ordained it to occur. The very lady whom but a 
 few minutes back I had been so much wishing to 
 have an opportunity of seeing, but to whom I had 
 known not on what plea to present myself, had 
 written to invite me to visit her. But that allu- 
 sion to professional business — was it a colour and 
 a pretext on her part ? had anything transpired 
 in respect to my meeting with Mr. CoUingwood to 
 induce her ladyship thus to send for me ?— or was 
 it really some affair utterly unconnected there- 
 with? I knew not what to think : but I was de- 
 termined to ascertain very speedily ; for inasmuch 
 as her ladyship had appointed no particular day, 
 I thought that I oould not do better than pro- 
 ceed to Eaton Square in the afternoon. I did 
 not ask Mary Glentworth to accompany me : but 
 I went alone in my carriage, having about my 
 person the tin box of pink lozenges which Beda, 
 had received from Dame Betty some time back, 
 and which I had ever since carefully preserved. 
 
 I arrived at Eaton Square shortly after four 
 o'clock in the afternoon ; and the carriage stopped 
 at Lord Kelvedon's handsome residence. Imme- 
 diately on announcing my name, I was conducted 
 by a footman to a splendidly furnished drawing- 
 room, where I found her ladyship seated upon a 
 sofa with a book in her hand. She immedietely laid 
 down the book — rose — and received me with the 
 kindest affability. I have already described her 
 as being exceedingly good-looking, even when seen 
 from a distance: but the idea thus formed of her 
 beauty was by uo means disenchanted on a closer 
 view. She was dressed for dinner: she wore an 
 elegant eveniog costume, the low dress displaying 
 the admirable formation of the bust; and her 
 beautifully modelled arms were bare almost to the 
 shoulders. Her brown hair was arranged ia 
 bands, set off by an exquisite French cap of the 
 finest lace. A magnificent spaniel was reposing 
 upon a footstool near her feet. When I had 
 seen her in the carriage, I had fancied that she 
 was tall; but I now found that she was not above 
 the medium stature, — though the blended dignity 
 and elegance of her bearing, the statuesque car- 
 riage of the head, and the length of the snowy 
 nec'c, with the graceful slope of the shoulders, 
 made her seem taller than she really was.
 
 406 
 
 EtiEir PEECT; on, the memoirs op an ACTETJ88. 
 
 Haviflff requeste'1 me to be seated, and having 
 resumed her own place upon the sofa, Lady Kelve- 
 don said, " I knosr not, Miss Trafford, whether 
 you can help me in the matter on which I am 
 about to speak : but at all events you can per- 
 haps assist me with your advice — and I must offer 
 my apologies for having given you the trouble to 
 call upon me." 
 
 I now felt tolerably well assured that it was 
 really a professional matter concerning which Lady 
 Kelvedon had desired an interview, — though I 
 was not absolutely certain. 
 
 " You must grant me your patience, Miss Traf- 
 ford," continued her ladyship, " while I give you 
 a few particulars which will serve as a preface to 
 farther explanations. I must tell you that at the 
 same boarding-school where I was educated at 
 Brighton, there was a young French lady to whom 
 I became greatly attached. She was an orphan : 
 she had an uncle who was at the time a merchant 
 in London ; and as he was her only relative, it 
 was for this reason that she lived in Eogland and 
 had been placed at the seminary at Brighton. In- 
 deed her parents died when she was very young; 
 so that ever since the age of five or six she has 
 dwelt in this country. She consequently speaks 
 the English language without the slightest foreign 
 accent; and she is highly accomplished. About a 
 tw?lvemonth back her uncle died suddenly ; and it 
 was then found that so far from being in a state 
 of affluence, as was generally supposed, he was 
 utterly insolvent. His creditors seized upon 
 whatsoever there was to take ; and the poor young 
 lady was left almost destitute and almost friend- 
 less in the world." 
 
 " Tet not altogether friendless," I interjected : 
 " since Lady Kelvedon has evidently taken so kind 
 an interest in her unfortunate position!" 
 
 " Yes," continued her ladyship : " for at school 
 we were bosom friends— and that friendship has 
 proved something more than the evanescent 
 likings of girlhood. My father and mother, at my 
 intercession, offered her a home, which circum* 
 stances constrained her to accept. But I am not 
 too proud to confess to you. Miss Trafford, that 
 my family is not a rich one. Aline Marcy knows 
 it ; and she naturally feels unhappy at being a 
 burden upon their resources, though that burden is 
 so light a one I Then too she has her little pride ; 
 and this prevents her from accepting anything 
 from my purse — though heaven knows she should 
 be freely welcome ! You might ask me wherefore 
 I do not give her a home beneath my own roof, 
 under some such delicate pretext that I require 
 the society of a friend and companion. But Lord 
 Kelvedon, though kind and good, has his own pe- 
 culiar ways and notions and in short, ihat 
 
 plan is impossible. And now I come. Miss Traf- 
 ford, to those explanations to which this long pre- 
 face was intended to lead." 
 
 Her ladyship paused for a few moments, and 
 then continued in the following manner : — 
 
 "Aline Marcy has taken a fancy to the stage. 
 She is utterly deficient in vanity ; and therefore I 
 believe that it is the veritable impulse of her 
 genius which prompts her. Several friends enter- 
 tain the most favourable opinion upon the point. 
 She possesses a beautiful person, as I have already 
 told you ; and her voice is powerful and melodious. 
 It is her desire to embrace the dramatic profes- 
 
 sion. To tell you the truth. Miss Trafford, she 
 was in London a few months ago, with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Wyvill, my parents, and she saw you twice 
 — once in the character of Lady Macbeth, the 
 second time in that of Juliet. Ever since she has 
 been studying Shakspere— she has devoured the 
 dramatic criticisms in newspapers— she has become 
 convinced that she could at least earn her bread 
 by the profession which she longs to adopt. She 
 has conceived an enthusiastic admiration for your- 
 self; and she earnestly hopes that you will either 
 consent to become her tutoress in preparing her 
 for the stage, or that at all events you will be kind 
 enough to assist her with your counsel how she is 
 to proceed. I know not in what terms to shape 
 something which I have yet to say," continued 
 Lady Kelvedon ; " but perhaps you will under- 
 stand me. Miss Trafford, when I observe my purse 
 shall become the source of a liberal reward for 
 whatsoever effective instructions may be bestowed 
 upon this young lady in whom I am so deeply in- 
 terested." 
 
 " "Where is Mademoiselle Marcy now P" I in- 
 quired : for I wished to see the young lady before 
 1 gave any positive answer. 
 
 '• She is staying with me for the present," re- 
 plied her ladyship. " When I said just now that 
 it was out of my power to offer her a home be- 
 neath this roof, I meant a permanent one : but 
 she is oa a temporary visit here— and if you will 
 permit me to introduce her, I shall have the 
 greatest pleasure." 
 
 '•■ I should certainly desire to see Mademoiselle 
 Marcy," I rejoined ; " so that I may on some 
 points form my judgment ; and then I will speak 
 more particularly to your ladyship," 
 
 Lady Kelvedon rang the bell, and desired the 
 footman who answered the summons to request 
 Mademoiselle Marcy's presence in the drawing- 
 room. The domestic retired ; and in a few 
 minutes Aline made her appearance. I beheld 
 before me a beautiful young woman of about nine- 
 teen or twenty, with one of those French faces in 
 which delicacy of features is blended with an ex- 
 pression of naivete and amiability, with the ani- 
 mation of intelligence over all. Her figure was 
 proportioned to the exactest symmetry : her bear- 
 ing and her attitudes were characterized by 
 elegance and grace. A modest blush mantled 
 upon her countenance : but her eyes sparkled with 
 mingled hope and admiration as she recognised 
 me. Lady Kelvedon introduced us; and then 
 making Mademoiselle Marcy sit down by her side, 
 she said, '• My dear Aline, I have been speaking to 
 Miss Trafford concerning yourself." 
 
 '"Hermione," said the young French lady, in a 
 low voice, which was full of emotion, "you are ex- 
 ceedingly kind to me ; and if through your inter- 
 vention Miss Trafford would only interest herself 
 on my behalf, I should indeed be rejoiced !" 
 
 Aline's voice was full of music : it was flute- 
 like and strong, but capable of being modulated to 
 all the various cadences suited for the stage. 
 This was a great advantage ; while the beauty of 
 her person and the elegance of her manners could 
 not fail to prove additional elements of success. 
 I felt interested in her : and perhaps for that very 
 reason I might have conscientiously endeavoured 
 to dissuade her from embarking in a sphere 
 fraught with so many temptations : but by all I
 
 ELIEX PEECT; OK, THE MEilOIES OP AN ACIEES3. 
 
 107 
 
 had learnt from Lady Kelvedon's lips, I felt as- 
 sured that Aline's miad was made up; and there- 
 fore I said to mjself, " If she be resolved to go 
 upon the stage, I will at least give her the benefit 
 of my experiences, and will do all I can to shield 
 her from harm." 
 
 I saw that the utmost affectioa subsisted be- 
 tween Aline and Hermioue (for such was the 
 Christian name of the beautiful Lady Kelvedon) ; 
 and as I was likewise interested in the latter, I had 
 every inclination to take a step which would be 
 pleasing to them both. I therefore said, " It will 
 afford me much delight. Mademoiselle Marcy, to 
 give you those instructions which may fit you for 
 the profession that you desire to embrace. At the 
 same time let me at once frankly and unmistak- 
 ably observe that I am about to become your 
 tutoress as a friend — and on no other considera* 
 tion." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Trafford, this is most generous on 
 your part ?" exclaimed Aline, taking my hand and 
 pressing it with the most grateful fervour. 
 
 We then discoursed upon future arrangements ; 
 and it was settled that Mademoiselle Marcy 
 should visit me daily at my own house for an hour 
 or two, that she might receive the benefit of the 
 dramatic tuition which I volunteered. When 
 everything was thus far disposed of, I intimated 
 that I desired to speak to Lady Xelvedon alone ; 
 and the beautiful Aline at once retired. 
 
 " Your ladyship is resolved," I said, " that 
 Mademoiselle Marcy shall embrace the profession 
 of the stage, as her inclination impels r" 
 
 " Circumstances appear. Miss Trafford, to 
 render this course absolutely requisite," was 
 Hermione's answer. 
 
 "And you. Lady Eelvedon, as her friend," I 
 continued, " will not regret sooner or later the 
 step to which you are thus giving your assent ?" 
 
 "If by any chance she should some day be- 
 come as famous as yourself. Miss Trafford," re- 
 sponded Lady Eelvedon, with an amiable smile, 
 " I should indeed be proud of her ! And yet," 
 she immediately added, as a slight shade came 
 over her countenance, " there is one thing which 
 
 is perhaps to be regretted And yet no ! it is 
 
 sot always the case !" — and here she gazed steadily 
 upon my countenance. 
 
 " What does your ladyship mean ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Did you observe. Miss Trafford, what a beau- 
 tiful complexion Aline Marcy possesses F Would 
 it not therefore be a pity if by means of rouge, 
 cosmetics, and those appliances which are used by 
 persons appearing on the stage, that delicate bloom 
 on her cheeks should be destroyed P Yet pardon 
 me for what I am about to say — but when I look 
 at your complexion. Miss Trafford, I take courage 
 on my dear friend Aline's part : for no one would 
 
 ever think again I must ask your pardon for 
 
 the rudeness of my observations but no one 
 
 would ever think that rouge or cosmetic, powder 
 or tint of any kind had touched yotir cheeks !" 
 
 A sudden idea struck me ; and looking with 
 mysterious significancy in Lady Eelvedon's face, I 
 said, " That circumstance which you have just 
 mentioned involves a secret known but to two or 
 three persons in this country, but which when the 
 time comes I shall have no objection to impart to 
 your friend Mademoiselle Marcy." 
 
 " A secret, Miss Trafford t" exclaimed Lady 
 
 Eelvedon, whose curiosity was evidently piqued, 
 " Will it be any indiscretion on my part to in- 
 quire what you mean ?" 
 
 I pretended to reflect for a few moments; and 
 then I said, " After what I have suffered to fall 
 from my lips, I cannot suddenly stop short and 
 maintain an air of mystery towards your ladyship. 
 But before I enter upon any explanation, I must 
 stipulate for an inviolable secrecy — a secrecy which 
 will extend even to your husband — to your lady's- 
 maid especially— and to Mademoiselle Marcy her- 
 self for the present." 
 
 " Oh ! faithfully I promise you. Miss Trafford," 
 cried Lady Eelvedon, " that I will observe the 
 strictest secrecy in respect to whatsoever you may 
 be about to impart !" 
 
 " There is an eminent French chemist," I con- 
 tinued, " whose ambition it is to devise many use- 
 ful compounds, but whose eccentricity prompts 
 him to maintain them a comparative secret and to 
 confide the knowledge thereof to a very limited 
 circle. This is his mania, if so it may be termed ; 
 and I must leave others to account for it. I am 
 now dealing simply with the fact." 
 
 " Proceed, Miss Trafford," said Lady Eelvedon. 
 " I am already deeply interested." 
 
 " This French chemist," I continued, " has com- 
 pounded certain drugs, which, when taken into 
 the system, act upon the surface of the skin and 
 protect it against all those influences which usually 
 mar and injure its beauty. Thus, with persons of 
 my profession, it is not merely the little tint of 
 rouge which is placed upon the cheeks — but it is 
 likewise the heated atmosphere, the glare of light, 
 the late hours, the excitement— in a word, a 
 variety of influences, which give a premature look 
 of age to those who are still youthful. Now your 
 ladyship may perhaps smile when I tell you that 
 this French chemist's drugs are a sovereign 
 remedy against all these deleterious effects : they 
 strengthen the texture of the skin — they impart 
 to it a healthy tone : in a word " 
 
 " You need say no more. Miss Trafford !" ex- 
 claimed Lady Eelvedon, in mingled admiration 
 and surprise : " for you yourself are a living evi- 
 dence of the truth of the tale ! Your complexion 
 
 is truly beautiful again you must pardon me 
 
 for my seeming rudeness " 
 
 "Jfo apology is necessary," I interrupted her, 
 inwardly rejoiced that I had succeeded ia thus 
 gradually leading the credulous Hermione on unto 
 the point to which I sought to bring her. " The 
 tale might seem extraordinary in your ladyship's 
 estimation, were it not supported by some kind of 
 evidence ; and I am therefore glad that you are 
 convinced by those proofs which my own personal 
 appearance affords. And now let me add that 
 if I have told you this tale, and in some sense 
 violated the conditions on which the old French 
 chemist entrusted me with his secret, it was merely 
 to set your mind at rest in respect to the beautiful 
 complexion of your friend Ahne Marcy." 
 
 " Ob, I have indeed no longer any fears on that 
 point !" said Lady Eelvedon ; " and I renew my 
 promise that the secret shall be faithfully kept. 
 But do you know. Miss Trafford, that this secret 
 is a most important one : for 1 believe" — nnd hero 
 she hesitated — " we are all interested in the pre- 
 servation of our complexion : heaven knows how 
 much ladies spend on cosmetics, lotions, and com-
 
 408 
 
 BLXEIf PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS. 
 
 pounds for preserving and beautifying the skin ! — 
 and— and"— here she again hesitated and blushed 
 — " I must frankly admit that I have my little 
 vanity on the same point. Indeed, I have often 
 thought that a heated room, or a bleak wind, or 
 
 exposure to the sun " 
 
 "Ko doubt," I interjected, "these influences 
 are ruinous to the complexion : nor am I free from 
 the vanity of our sex. To be candid, Lady Kelve. 
 don, I study to the utmost to preserve my com- 
 plexion; and every day when I take one of the 
 French chemist's skilfully compounded lozenges I 
 consider myself fortunate in having received so 
 great a boon from bis hands." 
 
 " Do you think. Miss Trafford," inquired her 
 ladyship, speaking with hesitation and diffidence, 
 " that money could procure from this French 
 
 chemist " 
 
 " The revelation of the secret ?" I ejaculated, 
 with an air of astonishment. " Oh no ! assuredly 
 not ! He is already rich, and singularly eccentric. 
 He uses his scientific knowledge as a means of 
 bestowing gifts of real value and importance as 
 proofs of his friendship where he happens to take 
 a fancy." 
 
 " I am almost sorry that you have told me of 
 this wonderful preservative," said Lady Kelvedon ; 
 
 " for now I long But no. Miss TrafiFord ! The 
 
 remark I was about to make would be most un- 
 generous, unladylike, and improper. I thank you 
 for your exceeding kindness : I beg that this day 
 may initiate not merely an acquaintance but a 
 friendship between us; and I shall always be de- 
 lighted to see you." 
 
 " Lady Kelvedon," I said, " you have spoken 
 so kindly to me that I feel as if had some duty to 
 perform — or at least as if I ought to seek for some 
 means of testifying my gratitude : and what better 
 means can I adopt than by putting you in posses- 
 sion of the preservative which I see you desire ? 
 Ah !" I ejaculated, " it happens singularly enough 
 that I have a box of these precious lozenges about 
 my person at this present moment !" 
 
 I produced the tin box : I opened it, and dis- 
 placed the piak lozenges to Lady Kelvedon, who 
 gazed on them with as much mingled joy and 
 reverential admiration as if it were the elixir of 
 life fresh from the laboratory of the alchemist, 
 which I was presenting to her view. 
 
 " This box is your's," I said ; " your ladyship is 
 welcome to it : I have several others at home. 
 But I charge you not to let any one see it ! — I 
 charge you likewise to maintain the secret invio* 
 lable !" 
 
 " On my honour, as a lady and a peeress," ex- 
 claimed the delighted Hermione, " your injunc- 
 tions. Miss Traflford, shall be implicitly obeyed ! 
 Ob, you must think me childish— but I am really 
 rejoiced at the possession of this preservative ! 
 But how are the lozenges to be used ?" 
 
 " What does your ladyship habitually take for 
 breakfast," 1 inquired, — " tea, coffee, or choco- 
 late ?" 
 
 " Invariably coffee," answered Lady Kelvedon. 
 " It is the favourite beverage of both his lordship 
 and myself." 
 
 " And can your ladyship contrive," I asked, " to 
 drop one of these lozenges every morning into the 
 coffee pot ?" 
 
 " Ob, yes — easily enough !" she exclaimed ; 
 
 " because hia lordship is invariably engrossed 
 with the newspaper at the breakt'aat-table. But 
 will not the lozenges give a taste to the coffee ?" 
 
 " "Not the slightest," I answered : " they will 
 alter not its taste or its colour. And they are 
 perfectly harmless on the one hand — while on the 
 other they are productive of the utmost benefit, 
 as I have already described to your ladyship. 
 See !" I added ; " and be convinced that they are 
 innocuous." 
 
 Thus speaking, I took one of the lozenges from 
 the box and placed it in my mouth. 
 
 " And how often," inquired Lady Kelvedon, 
 " should the lozenges be mixed with the coffee ?" 
 
 " Every day," I answered. " You have a con- 
 siderable quantity here ; and when the box is ex- 
 hausted, I shall have much pleasure in furnishing 
 another supply. Your ladyship must commence 
 to-morrow ; and in a short time your mirror will 
 convince you that I have in no way exaggerated 
 the sovereign efficacy of this singular compound. 
 Ah !" I ejaculated, " some one is hastily ascending 
 the stairs ! For heaven's sake hide the box !" 
 
 Lady Kelvedon lost not a moment in depositing 
 the lozenges in an elegant workbox which stood 
 upon the table, and which she immediately locked, 
 — taking out the key and placing it in her bosom. 
 Scarcely was this done, when the door opened and 
 Mr. CoUingwood made his appearance. 
 
 Ho started and stopped short on beholding me. 
 I very well understood the cause of his emotion : 
 but Lady Kelvedon naturally attributed it to his 
 surprise on beholding in that room a visitress 
 whom he might possibly recognise as Miss Traf- 
 ford the tragedian. Her ladyship therefore has- 
 tened to say, " Mr, CoUingwood, allow me to in- 
 troduce you to Miss Trafford, whom I know that 
 you have seen and admired, but with whom I 
 believe you were hitherto unacquainted." 
 
 Mr. CoUingwood bowed with every appearance 
 of the most courteous politeness : but he darted a 
 quick look, half anxious, half menacing, upon me, 
 — a look which I however met with a calm, steady, 
 and unruffled demeanour. 
 
 " I am proud," he said, " to have the honour of 
 meeting Miss Trafford :"— and there was a slight 
 vibration in his tone, but still too feeble to attract 
 the notice of any one who had not some reason to 
 be struck by such slight details. 
 
 " You know, Mr. Collingwoo'^," resumed Lady 
 Kelvedon, " that my friend Aline Marcy has ex- 
 pressed a desire to go upon the stage " 
 
 " Yes— I think I have heard your ladyship say 
 so," remarked CoUingwood, now with an air of 
 complete composure — though whether it was 
 forced or not, I could not determine ; " and there- 
 fore you have sent for Miss Trafford and Miss 
 
 Trafford," he added in the most courteous tone, 
 " has been kind enough to come hither." 
 
 " And what is more," said Hermione, " Miss 
 Trafford has generously volunteered her services in 
 the most handsome and friendly manner." 
 
 " I am by no means surprised to receive this 
 announcement from your ladyship's lips : for every 
 one who has heard of Miss Trafford — and who has 
 not heard of her ? — must be aware that her dispo- 
 sition is as noble as her talents are great, and that 
 she is the very embodiment of the lofciest feelings, 
 associated with the sublimest genius. I am cun- 
 vinced that whatsoever promue Miss Trafford may
 
 EILEN PKECT; OR, THE MRMOIRS r.p AN ACTUESS. 
 
 'i09 
 
 have made, will be scrupulously fulfilled to the 
 very letter :" — and Mr. Collingwood bent a signifi- 
 cant look upon mj countenance, as he accentuated 
 the last words of his speech. 
 
 I had not been nearly an hour in Lady Xel> 
 vedon's society, without discovering that she had 
 her little foibles, and that though perfectly good- 
 tempered and kind-hearted, she had her feminine 
 pride and vanity. Therefore, she herself being 
 fond of flattery, evidently expected that I myself 
 should bo pleased by the string of compliments 
 which had just been addressed to me, and of 
 which she did not fathom the full meaning. 
 Something like a shade of disappointment and 
 surprise appeared upon her countenance, when 
 with a slight inclination of the head towards Mr. 
 Collingwood, I said in a cold tone, " You are 
 right, sir ; whatsoever promise I make, no matter 
 under what circumstances, I faithfully adhere 
 to it." 
 
 No. 52,—Ei,LE» Peecy. • 
 
 I then bade Lady Kelvedon farewell : she prof- 
 fered me her hand at parting ; and with another 
 very distant bow to Mr. Collingwood, I issued 
 from the room. 
 
 The reader has seen that by my deportment 
 and my words I gave this individual to under- 
 stand that his secret was safe with me, and that I 
 respected the oath which I had taken, even 
 though it was extorted from my lips, in the ruined 
 farm -buildings near Petersfield. I might have 
 left him in suspense upon the point, so that this 
 suspense itself might have served as a punish- 
 ment : but I had two motives in pursuing a dif- 
 ferent course. In the first place I had received 
 sufficient proof to convince me that he was a man 
 of desperate character ; and I was therefore fearful 
 of exciting his hostility anew against me; — and ia 
 the second place I did not wish to leave him in a 
 state of uncertainty on the point which so vitally 
 concerned him, for fear lest ha should after my
 
 410 
 
 ELIiElf PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP ABT ACTBES8. 
 
 departure question and cross-question Lady Kel- 
 vedon in a manner to excite her suspicion that he 
 and I had met before. For I saw that she was 
 Bomewhat weak-minded, easy to be led and facile 
 of persuasion ; and I was apprehensive lest Col- 
 lingwood should worm out of her the incidents 
 which had taken place between us in respect to 
 the bos of lozenges. But by at once relieving 
 Collingwood's mind from all suspense, I had ren- 
 dered it unnecessary for him to turn the discourse, 
 when alone with Hertnione, into any channel that 
 stood the least chance of developing the matter 
 which I so much desired should be concealed. 
 
 As for the project which I had adopted to in- 
 duce Lady Kelvedon to administer the lozenges 
 not merely to herself but to her husband, the 
 reader must admit that the fictions which I had 
 conjured up for the purpose were not merely the 
 most venial, but likewise the most justifiable un- 
 truths ever uttered. I had gone to that mansion 
 trusting entirely to the chapter of accidents to 
 develop some circumstance favourable to my de- 
 eign ; for I had all along been resolved that be- 
 neath a roof where poison might be administered, 
 there also should be the antidote. That Mr. Col- 
 lingwood had obtained the venomed loeenges from 
 Dame Betty for the purpose of removing from his 
 path all obstacles to his eventual succession to the 
 title and estates of Kelvedon, I was firmly con- 
 vinced ; but whether he intended to practice his 
 diabolical iniquity towards his old uncle or that 
 uncle's young wife, or against both, it was not 
 equally easy to conjecture. Therefore I had every 
 reason to felicitate myself on having been fur- 
 nished by providential circumstances with the 
 means of administering the antidote alike to the 
 old nobleman and the young wife. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXX. 
 
 THE biack; eibbok. 
 
 It was between seven and eight o'clock in the 
 evening — and I was seated in the drawing-room 
 ■with Mary G-lent worth, to whom I was speaking 
 of Aline Marcy — when a double knock at the 
 front door resounded through the house. In a 
 few moments a servant entered the drawing-room, 
 to say that a gentleman desired to opeak to me on 
 the part of Lady Kelvedon. I immediately de- 
 scended to the parlour, into which the visitor had 
 been shown : I was wondering who he could be, 
 and whether any change had occurred in her lady- 
 ship's plans with regard to Aline Marcy— when, 
 on entering that room, I to my astonishment 
 found myself face to face with Mr. Collingwood. 
 
 "Pardon me. Miss Percy, for this intrusion," 
 he immediately said : " but after very mature 
 consideration, I deemed it requisite to have a few 
 ■words with you; and I am sure that considering 
 all things, you will not refuse me this favour," 
 
 " I must candidly confess, sir," I answered, 
 very distantly and coldly, " that I am surprised 
 you should seek my presence " 
 
 " I beseech you to hear me. Miss Percy 1" in- 
 terrupted Collingwood : " for what I have to say 
 is serious and important. You cannot for a mo- 
 
 ment think that I am capable of insult or outrage 
 under existing circumstances " 
 
 " And you cannot think, sir, that I am afraid 
 of either beneath this roof, with succour near at 
 hand ?" — and as I thus coldly spoke, I pointed 
 significantly towards the bell-pull. 
 
 "Miss Percy," continued Collingwoo:^, "your 
 behaviour of this afternoon in Eaton Square has 
 justified the high opinion which I entertain of 
 you " 
 
 " Enough, sir !" I ejaculated. " Let mc bog of 
 you to understand that compliments coming from 
 yotir lips are most repugnant to my feelings !" 
 
 " I merely meant to convey my sense of grati- 
 tude," said CoUingwoocI, humbly, "for the man- 
 ner in which you kept the solemn oath you had 
 taken -" 
 
 "And now therefore I presume you have no 
 farther business with me ?" 
 
 " Pardon me. Miss Percy," interjected Colling- 
 wood : "Ihave something very serious to say — 
 something to propose. Permit me to observe in 
 preparatory terms, that the interests of an indivi- 
 dual in this world may by the sudden aspect of 
 circumstances be so modelled as to suggest a 
 blending with the interests of another. You do 
 not understand me P I will endeavour to speak 
 more plainly. I occupy a certain position in 
 society — I move in the highest sphere — to that 
 same sphere could I introduce the lady who be- 
 comes my wife——" 
 
 " What !" I ejaculated : and I felt my cheeks 
 crimsoning and my eyes flashing with indigna- 
 tion. " Begone, sir !" — and I pointed towards 
 the door. 
 
 " You have understood my proposal. Miss 
 Percy," said Mr. Collingwood, " bef.'te I had fully 
 explained it — and I beseech you to give it your 
 consideration. It is by no means likely that there 
 will be issue from the marriage of my old uncle 
 with a young woman ; and therefore there is 
 every chance that upon the brow of the btiJo 
 whom I may lead to the altar I shall shortly be 
 enabled to place a coronet. It is a coronet in 
 prospective that I offer you. Miss Percy ! Per- 
 haps you hate me — perhaps you are bitterly vin- 
 dictive against me ; but still if you consult your 
 own interests " 
 
 " And is it possible," I exclaimed, " that you 
 pretended to know the real character of Ellea 
 Percy ? Oh, you have greatly misunderstood her 
 if you fancy that for the sake of a coronet she 
 would forget every good feeling — every sense of 
 duty ! — that she would trample aa it were under 
 foot all those sentiments which, rest assured, she 
 cherishes far beyond rank, fortune, honours, and 
 titles ! You did not know my character before : 
 but now you know, it ! — and dare not remain an- 
 other instant to insult me with your presence !" 
 
 Collingwood looked completely discomfited : he 
 had evidently been far from expecting such a re- 
 suit. He stood uncertain how to act, — not know- 
 ing whether to beat an immediate retreat, or to 
 return once more to the charge. I grew excited 
 with the strong indignation that filled my bosom : 
 I stamped my foot upon the carpet ; and I ex- 
 claimed, "Depart, sir, at once !— or I will ring this 
 bell to summon assistance for the ejectment of an 
 intruder whose presence is hateful to me!" 
 
 " I go, Misa Percy," he eaid, evidently with a
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 411 
 
 sense of deepest humiliation; "and I grieve that 
 I should have offended jou. I beseech that we 
 may stand on precisely the same ground towards 
 each other as before I paid this unfortunate visit." 
 
 " Begone, sir !" — and now I rang the bell, 
 
 Mr. Collingwood bowed : bis face was very 
 palo, but the expression of his countenance was 
 that of mortification and disappointment, and had 
 nothing menacing in it. The door closed behind 
 him ; and in a few moments I heard a carriage 
 drive away from the front of the house. I re- 
 mained for a few minutes in the parlour, after 
 Collingwood was gone, to compose my looks before 
 I returned to Mary Glentworth ; for I did not 
 wish to be questioned by her, nor to bo drawn into 
 any explanations in respect to that man. The 
 burning blush of indignation was still upon my 
 countenance; and as I threw a glance into the 
 mirror to see whether my looks were much raffled, 
 I found that my eyes were still flashing fire. I sat 
 down and meditated upon all that had occurred. 
 
 " Methinks," I said to myself, " I now begin to 
 obtain an insight into this villain's crafty policy. 
 He is aware that I am acquainted with the fact 
 of Lis possessing the poisoned lozenges ; and he 
 dares not use them — for if death should occur 
 suspiciously in the Kelvedon family, he knows 
 not how I may deem it my duty to step forward 
 ^in spite of my oath and give that assistance to the 
 investigations of justice which I should be so well 
 able to afiford ! He therefore finds himself placed 
 in a cruel embarrassment : for if there should be 
 an heir born to his uncle from this marriage, fare- 
 well to all the hopes and prospects of the nephew ! 
 Ail this he sees; and he has taken counsel with 
 himself. The idea has struck him that if he could 
 succeed in winning me as his wife, Lo might either 
 secure me as an accomplice in his diabolical plans, 
 or at all events place a seal upon my lips when he 
 should have carried them out. Ah ! he was in- 
 deed ignorant of my true character : but now he 
 knows it ! What will he do next ? His position 
 seems desperate : for at each successive turn he 
 finds himself baffled. Yet he is not the man to 
 abandon everything without some bold struggle; 
 and therefore perchance he may still fall back on 
 the poisoned lozenges. But, thank heaven ! there 
 is the antidote — it is sure to be taken — and by my 
 introduction to Lady Celvedon I am fortunately 
 placed in a position to watch the progress of 
 events!" 
 
 Such was the strain of my meditations for some 
 few minutes after Collingwood had taken his de- 
 parture; and when I had sufficiently composed 
 my looks, I rejoined Mary Glentworth in the 
 drawing-room. I easily accounted for the visit 
 which 1 had just received from a gentleman on 
 the part of Lady Kelvedon ; and Mary asked me 
 no questions. 
 
 On the following day Aline Marcy came to re- 
 ceive her first lesson in her studies for the stage. 
 Mary Glentworth asked to be present; and to this 
 there was no objection. Aline recited some pas- 
 sages from Shakspere ; and I was much struck by 
 her excellent appreciation of the characters whom 
 she was thus personifying. I soon found that she 
 possessed a veritable taste for the stage, and a real 
 genius in that particular sphere. Indeed I fore- 
 saw that she would shine in the dramatic world ; 
 and as I possessed not the least jealousy nor the 
 
 slightest dread of rivalry, I took pleasure in cul- 
 tivating her talent— and I felt that I should have 
 every reason to be proud of my pupil. 
 
 A fortnight passed, during which Madsmoisella 
 Marcy came daily ; and she profited with wondrous 
 rapidity by the instructions I gave her. Some- 
 times methought that I beheld a glow of enthu- 
 siasm on Mary Glentworth's countenance when 
 she was present at these lessons, as if she herself 
 felt an inclination to embrace the stage as a pro- 
 fession : but when once the lessons were over, and 
 Aline had departed, Mary seemed to think no 
 more of the impression temporarily made upon 
 her. I now noticed likewise that she had occa- 
 sional fits of abstraction : she sometimes seemed 
 pensive — she did not immediately answer when I 
 spoke— and on repeating my observation, what- 
 ever it were, she would start as if suddenly 
 aroused from a deep reverie. Two or three times 
 I inquired if she bad anything upon her mind 
 and if she were unhappy; but then her counte- 
 nance would brighten up— she would become her- 
 self again — and she would give me the assurance 
 that she had every reason to be perfectly happy. 
 I could not altogether understand it : there was 
 a vagUQ uneasiness floating in my mind ; but I 
 feared to question Mary too closely, lest her 
 thoughts should be painfully connected with her 
 deceased mother, and that anything I might say 
 would only tend to render them more poignant. 
 It struck me that Mr. Wilkinson might have in- 
 advertently dropped some hint which had excited 
 the poor girl's suspicion relative to the legitimacy 
 of her birth ; and this was a topic which I would 
 not for worlds unnecessarily approach. 
 
 But leaving Mary Glentworth for the present 
 and passing away from this topic, I must proceed 
 to observe that the more I saw of Aline Marcy, 
 the more I liked her. I found her to be unaf- 
 fected, amiable, generous- hearted, and grateful,— 
 endowed with that lofty spirit which aspired to 
 eat the bread of independence— confident of suc- 
 cess in the profession which she purposed to em- 
 brace — but utterly without pride, vanity, or con- 
 ceit. I learnt that Mr. Collingwood did not 
 live with his uncle in Eaton Square, but that he 
 was a frequent visitor at the house. I likewise 
 gleaned from Mademoiselle Marcy's discourse that 
 the demeanour of Mr. Collingwood towards his 
 youthful aunt was always characterised by the 
 utmost respect, and that he addressed her only as 
 " Lady Kelvedon" or " your ladyship." At the 
 expiration of that fortnight which had now elapsed 
 since I first became acquainted with Aline, I paid 
 a second visit to Eaton Square, and found myself 
 alone with Lady Kelvedon. She soon began to 
 speak of the lozenges which I had given her : she 
 assured me that she had not missed a single 
 morning in stealthily dropping one into the coffee ; 
 and I saw that she courted a compliment on ac- 
 count of her good looks. I therefore said with 
 becoming seriousness, " It is quite evident, my 
 dear Lady Kelvedon, that you already experience 
 the beneficial effects of the French chemist's nos- 
 trum." 
 
 " Do you really think so ?" she exclaimed, with 
 a tone and look which proved that she herseK 
 was of precisely the same opinion, and that J(er 
 mirror had full often been consulted for the pur* 
 pose.
 
 413 
 
 EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACrEESS. 
 
 Now, it happened that her ladyship was indeed 
 looking remarkably well; but whether it were 
 the result of anything which the lozenges might 
 contain, or whether a change of air had benefited 
 her, I could not determine. Certain however it 
 was that her complexion had a remarkable clear- 
 negg — the rose-tint of health was upon her cheeks 
 —and I was thus enabled most truthfully to com- 
 pliment her upon her appearance. I departed, 
 much satisfied with this interview ; for I was con- 
 vinced that if Mr. Collingwood were by any 
 means administering the subtle poison, the anti- 
 dote was doing its work effectually : and thus I 
 felt that I might set my conscience completely at 
 rest on the score of keeping an oath in a case 
 where my duty in another sense might have re- 
 quired that it should be broken. 
 
 Two or three days after this visit to Lady 
 Kolvedon, I received a letter from Juliet inform- 
 ing mo that she had a new source of trouble ; for 
 that her husband had been thrown from his horse 
 and had seriously injured himself, though no bones 
 were broken. She said that she felt very un- 
 happy; and she entreated me to run down and 
 see her if it were only for a single day. I could 
 not resist this appeal from that dear friend whom 
 I loved with true sisterly affection; and I wrote 
 to say that I would be with her on the ensuing 
 Saturday, as my engagements would permit me to 
 remain with her until the Tuesday. I accordingly 
 informed Aline that there would be a suspension 
 of her studies for two or three days ; but she as- 
 sured me that in the interval she should practice 
 her readings by herself. I did not wish either 
 Mary Glentworth or Beda to accompany me ; for 
 all the circumstances recently connected with Lord 
 Frederick were of too painful a character to ren- 
 der me willing to excite their curiosity on the 
 point ; and moreover I saw by the tenour of 
 Juliet's letter that she wished me to come alone. 
 
 I set ofif early on the Saturday morning, tra- 
 velling in a postchaise ; and I reached Eiver 
 House between two and three o'clock in the 
 afternoon. Juliet hastened forth to welcome me ; 
 and I was grieved to observe that she had a 
 pale, careworn and unquiet look, despite the 
 animation of joy which appeared upon her 
 countenance as we embraced each other. Lord 
 Frederick was sleeping at the time ; and Juliet 
 led me up to the chamber which had been 
 prepared for my reception and which was the 
 same that I had been wont to occupy on former 
 occasions when at Eiver House. I should here 
 observe that it was now upwards of three weeks 
 since Lord Frederick llavcnsclifie underwent the 
 fearful process of branding : he still wore a sable- 
 ribbon fastened round his head so as to cover his 
 seared brow — and Juliet remained ignorant of the 
 real cause for which that bandage was worn. She 
 still believed the tale which he had told her of 
 being knocked down by a vehicle in the crowded 
 streets of London, and of having fearfully dis- 
 fiured his forehead by a violent concussion against 
 the sharp kerbstone of the pavement. 
 
 " And how occurred this fresh accident ?" I 
 inquired, alluding to the fall from the horse. 
 
 " The animal which Frederick is accustomed to 
 ride," answered Juliet, in a mournful tone, " is a 
 spirited one ; but still neither he nor I suspected 
 that it had any vice. I have encouraged Frederick 
 
 to take plenty of exercise since his unfortunate 
 visit to Loudon three weeks b.ick ; for ns I have 
 told you in my letters, bis mind has been much 
 distressed at the thought of his countenance being 
 so disfigured, and at the necessity of wearing a 
 black ribbon everlastingly upon his head. Ah ! 
 you shudder, dear Ellen " 
 
 " Forgive me, dearest Juliet !" I exclaimed, 
 vehemently embracing her. "Not for worlds 
 
 would I add to your affliction Oh, no ! not for 
 
 worlds!" 
 
 " Oh, I know it!" she cried: "but you sym- 
 pathize with me ! Alas, and I need all possible 
 sympathy ! You know not how altered Frederick 
 has become. He is still as kind as ever towards 
 me — perhaps even kinder : but a terrific blight 
 has fallen upon his happiness, and I fear that he 
 will never get over it. At night he is restless- 
 he tosses his arms about — he starts up in hia 
 sleep — he shrieks out with a perfect yell of agony 
 — he gives utterance to wild and plaintive cries. 
 It seems as if that terrific accident the efi'ects of 
 which he feels so bitterly, was being re-enacted in 
 his dreams. During the day time, when we are 
 together, he sometimes remains plunged in a f'.eep 
 reverie : or else he paces the room with agl'^ated 
 steps; — and as I watch him with painful anxiety, 
 I observe that his hands clench and he is fihaken 
 throughout his entire form with strong convulsing 
 spasms. Oh, my dear Ellen ! there is something 
 dreadful in all this; and I know not how to act! 
 I am afraid to breathe words of consolation and 
 sympathy, because by so doing it shows that I 
 notice how profoundly he is agitated : but yet when 
 he is in these deeply desponding or terrifically ex- 
 cited moods, it seems cruel not to do my beat to 
 console him — thnngh there is really no consola- 
 tion I" 
 
 Juliet paused ; and for a few minutes she was 
 overwhelmed by her emotions. I was horrified, 
 shocked, and pained by what I heard; for I 
 thought to myself that all this could not last, and 
 that the moment would sooner or later come when 
 Juliet would discover the whole tremendous truth. 
 
 " The scar left behind by the accident in Lon- 
 don," continued Lady Frederick Ravensclifie, after 
 that long pause, and now speaking in a half-hushed 
 voice and in broken accents, " must be very fright- 
 ful, because you know not how sensitive poor Fre- 
 derick is upon the point ! We used invariably to 
 have a light burning in our chamber at night: but 
 now he chooses that the room shall be enveloped 
 in total darkness. Oh ! he is dreadfully fright- 
 ened lest by any accident I should obtain a glimpse 
 of his brow ! In terms as delicate as possible I 
 have assured him that my curiosity on the point 
 could not override my duty or my affection. At 
 the same time, too, 1 have earnestly entreated him 
 to believe that no disfigurement which he may 
 have sustained would alter my feelings towards 
 him. But, oh, Ellen ! I fear that he scarcely 
 credits me — he has not sufficient faith in woman's 
 devotedness ! — or else why should he regard with 
 such horrible apprehension the idea of accident be- 
 traying to my view the result of the injury which 
 he has sustained ?" 
 
 Juliet was again powerfully agitated : the tears 
 ran down her cheeks — her lips quivered— her 
 bosom rose and fell with quick troubled heavings. 
 It pained me infinitely to behold this spectacle of
 
 ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AIT ACTRESS. 
 
 413 
 
 my beloved friend's poignant anguish ; but what 
 could I saj to console her ? what words could I 
 breathe in her ear except the earnest entreaty that 
 she would gather all her tirmness to her aid and 
 meet courageously whatsoever aiHictiona heaven 
 might choose to pour upon her head ? 
 
 " Ob, have I not endured many, many calamities 
 during the two past years, Ellen?" she exclaimed 
 bitterly. " ^Yhen will heaven be wearied of afflict- 
 ing me ? — what have I done to be thus severely 
 tried ? AYas not my life pure and chaste until I 
 knew him who is now my husband P — and if for a 
 time I sank under the cloud of dishonour, it was 
 through no willing frailty on my own part!" 
 
 " For God's sake, Juliet, summon your forti- 
 tude to your aid!" I said. "Ah! by the bye, 
 you have not yet told me how this last accident 
 befel Lord Frederick :— but I fear from this an- 
 guish of your's that it is more serious than your 
 letter seemed to intimate ?" 
 
 " I was telling you, Ellen," returned Juliet, 
 " that I had advised poor Frederick to take as 
 much exercise as possible ; for I was in hopes that 
 the excitement of riding and being out in the open 
 air would cheer his spirits. His horse is full of 
 mettle ; but he did not believe that the animal 
 possessed any vice. It however appears that the 
 horse suddenly refused to take a leap which Fre- 
 derick was desirous of accomplishing — the animal 
 was obstinate — Frederick was resolute— the horse 
 reared completely up, and fell over with Frederick 
 under him." 
 
 " Good heavens ! this is indeed serious !" I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Frederick did not lose his senses— and it was 
 with some difficulty that he disengaged himself 
 from beneath the fallen steed : but when he had 
 done so, he fortunately found that his limbs were 
 not broken. He returned home, dragging himself 
 painfully along, and leading the horse." 
 
 " Of course a medical man was at once sent 
 for P" I said. 
 
 " No," rejoined Juliet : " Frederick was sternly 
 resolute in his resolve not to see Mr. Singleton. I 
 begged and entreated that he would alter his deci- 
 sion : but all my prayers were vain. I gently and 
 delicately represented to him that Mr. Singleton 
 need be informed of nothing relative to the acci- 
 dent in London : but Frederick would not yield to 
 my intercessions. I have not since dared to re- 
 new the entreaty ; for to tell you the truth, Ellen, 
 poor Frederick appears to writhe in torture if I 
 mention the name of a medical man. There is 
 something very strange in all this !" said Juliet, 
 speaking slowly and in a deep reflecting mood. 
 " God grant that there is no mystery hidden from 
 my view ! — that there is not something more than 
 I have been led to understand !" 
 
 I could not help shuddering as Lady Frederick 
 Eavenscliffe thus spoke ; for more than ever did I 
 feel convinced that the time could not be far dis- 
 tant when the whole tremendous truth must inevi- 
 tably be discovered by her. 
 
 " Yes," she continued, still speaking in a low 
 voice and with a deliberate tone, but with a 
 certain preoccupied air, " I have had strange 
 and horrible fancies flitting through my mind. 
 Would you believe it, Ellen— but it seems 
 to mc as if every time the slightest allusion is 
 made to that black ribbon which encircles my 
 
 husband's brow, he wiitlies— he shudders- he can- 
 tracts as it were within himself, as if enduring 
 poignant agonies. It is the same, Ellen, as pre- 
 senting water to one who has been bitten by a 
 rabid dog and who is suflering the horrors of hy- 
 drophobia !" 
 
 " Good heavens, Juliet !" I involuntarily ejacu* 
 lated, shocked and appalled by the hideousness of 
 the simile which at once struck my comprehension 
 as being fraught with a horrible accuracy. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! it is indeed frightful," said my poor 
 friend, " to be compelled thus to speak : but I 
 have observed it all — I have watched him — I have 
 even been led as it were to identify my own feel- 
 ings with those that he endures : so that I have 
 shuddered and writhed in very sympathy with 
 him ! And now tell me, Ellen, is not this fright- 
 ful ?" 
 
 "He will get better, Juliet," I answered, 
 scarcely knowing what I was saying ; " and your 
 own feelings will grow more composed. Does he 
 know that you expect me here ?" 
 
 " Yes— I told him that I had written to you, and 
 that I had besought you to come and pass a day or 
 two with me. Sut to be candid with you, dear 
 Ellen, I saw that I had done something wrong- 
 Frederick's whole manner changed — I burst into 
 tears— and then he said everything he could ta 
 tranquillize me." 
 
 " And if my presence should be disagreeable," 
 I said, " I should be very sorry, Juliet " 
 
 " Enough, dear Ellen ! Frederick knows that 
 you were to come to-day j and when I told him 
 that I had received a letter from you in answer to 
 my own, be expressed his satisfaction that I should 
 soon have my dearest friend with me. But even 
 then, Ellen, I saw that he was seized with one of 
 those horrible convulsions which at times sweep 
 like a strong galvanic spasm through his frame ; 
 and, Oh! I understood but too well the cause 
 thereof. It is to him a source of the bitterest 
 anguish to meet any one whom ho knew at the 
 time when the beauty of his countenance was 
 unmarred ; and therefore, dearest Ellen, you will 
 not by word or look " 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! not for the world !" I ex- 
 claimed. "I understand what you mean, Juliet; 
 and you know that rather than add to your af- 
 fliction, I would do all in my power to mitigate 
 it." 
 
 Juliet pressed my hand— and then said, " I will 
 now go and see if he be awake. I left him sleep- 
 ing on the sofa in the drawing-room; for slumbar 
 had stolen unconsciously upon him. Do you 
 
 know, Ellen " and Juliet hesitated, — "do you 
 
 know, my sweet friend, that while he thus slept — 
 I am ashamed to make the confession — and yet I 
 dare keep no secret from you — I confess therefore 
 that while he thus slept, I experienced an inclina- 
 tion— I can scarcely call it a curiosity— for the 
 word curiosity implies a mean and paltry feel- 
 ing " 
 
 " Oh, Juliet !" I exclaimed, starting with af- 
 fright as I suddenly comprehended what it was she 
 was about to confess. " You surely would not do 
 this, after having so faithfully promised your hus- 
 band " 
 
 "Xo— I would not do it, Ellen, so long as I re- 
 main the mistress of my own actions," rejoined 
 Juliet, »itb solemn earuestuesa : "but there are
 
 4,U 
 
 EltES PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTEBSS. 
 
 moments when my brain reels— when reason ap- prayed:— and that is to be guarded from the 
 pears to be abandoning its throne — and when losing | temptation of violating my pledge — to be shielded 
 all control over myself, I feel as if I can obey | against the inclination of lifting that sable fillet 
 naught but the impulse of my morbid, feverish, from my husband's brow !" 
 
 frenzied inclinations. Oh ! there was a moment j Again I almost shrieked forth at the baro idea 
 just before your arrival, Ellen, when my eyes were i that such a deed on her part was possible: but 
 riveted upon that broad black ribbon— horrible with a great effort subduing my emotions, I said 
 thoughts were trooping through my brain — I can- impressively, " Juliet, you are incapable of this !" 
 not possibly define them — I know not whence they '• Oh !" she cried, becoming wildly excited 
 came or to what impulse they owed their origin— ' again ; " how can we frail mortals always resist 
 
 but it seemed as if Ob, my God ! how can I our inclinations? Satan himself is sometimes at 
 
 tell you what I thought at that moment " our elbow to fill our hearts with dreadful impulses! 
 
 " Do not tell me, Juliet! — do not !" I ejacu- i How is it that the individual who has no reason 
 
 lated, shuddering from head to foot. 
 
 "Yes, yes — I must!" cried my anguished friend: 
 " there is some unknown power which impels me 
 thus completely to unbosom myself unto you. 
 Listen, dear Ellen ! — for though I afilict you like- 
 wise, yet must I speak ! I was saying, therefore, 
 that I thought while I sat there by Frederick's 
 side, as he lay slumbering on the sofa, and as my 
 eyes were riveted upon that broad black band — 
 yes, riveted, Ellen, with a horrible fascination, as 
 if my gaze were charmed by the hideous spell-like 
 glare of an envenomed snake — — " 
 
 " Juliet ! Juliet !" I murmured ; " for God's 
 sake spare yourself ! — spare me !" 
 
 " One word, and I have done !" she answered : 
 
 for suicide and dreams not of it, feels when stand- 
 ing on the brink of a precipice, an irresistible de- 
 sire to plunge headlong into the abysm below ? 
 And, Ob, Ellen ! but a few minutes before your 
 arrival, I was as it were standing on that precipice 
 
 my hand was stretched forth to touch the 
 
 black ribbon — to lift it gently from my husband's 
 brow — and to see that dread mark which he con- 
 ceal?, so to speak, beneath a black portentous mys- 
 tery !" 
 
 '•' Again I say, Juliet, you would not do such a 
 thing !" I exclaimed emphatically. 
 
 " God grant that I may not !" she responded, 
 with a sudden solemnity alike of voice and look. 
 " I will now go and see if he be awake ; and if so. 
 
 and there seemed to be a subdued frenzy in her you shall at once be summoned to the drawing- 
 looks. " I thought, Ellen, as I thus gazed upon I room." 
 
 my sleeping husband, that something frightful Juliet left me, — left mo a prey to feelings so 
 must have happened to him — that tho whole truth harrowed that I cannot possibly describe them. I 
 had been concealed from me — that for some hideous j loTcd her dearly : I saw that her happiness was 
 crime the finger of heavea itself had impressed the i already wrecking — and I trembled lest that wreck 
 brand of Cain upon his brow !" I should become complete. I was prepared by her 
 
 "Juliet! Juliet !" I again murmured ; " this is i letter to find her much afflicted: but I expected 
 dreadful ! For heaven's sake speak not thus !"— not to find her half wild, half frenzied as she 
 and I felt as if I must literally groan with horror. I proved to be. 
 
 "Pardon me, dearest Ellen— pardon me, I en- ' In a few minutes she returned to my chamber: 
 treat you!" said Lady Frederick Ravenscliffe; "for her looks were now completely calm— but I saw 
 I know that I am afliicting you cruelly. But Oh ! that there was a deep agitation beneath the sur- 
 it seems to me as if no words but those of horror : face, and that it was only a forced composure as. 
 or of anguish may issue from my lips — and as if it sumed for the purpose of maintaining appearances 
 would be something unnatural if others were to when in her husband's presence; for he was now 
 speak to me in different terms and voices !" I awake. I accompanied her to the drawing-room. 
 
 " Juliet," I said, now taking her hand and gazing My mind was already made up how to act towards 
 with earnest entreaty upon her face, "you must I Lord Frederick. Infinite though my horror of 
 not continue in this strain — or else I shall fear that ! his character was— immense as the loathing and 
 
 my presence has excited you, and I shall be sorry 
 that I have come." 
 
 " No, no, Ellen ! you must not be sorry !" re- 
 plied Juliet vehemently. "Why is it that I thus 
 speak to you ? It is because all I have thought 
 and felt has for three weeks past been pent up in 
 my own bosom — I have had no one to whom I 
 could confide anything — I have felt as if completely 
 alone on the face of the earth ! And now that you 
 are here, it is a species of painful satisfaction — I 
 know not how to describe it " 
 
 " Well then, Juliet," I said, " you shall confide 
 all your thoughts and feelings to me, my sweet 
 friend!— but you must not close the avenues of 
 your heart against the sympathy and the salace 
 which I endeavour to proffer you. Pray to heaven 
 for strength, Juliet " 
 
 " 1 7irtue prayed, Ellen," she interrupted mo — 
 and it was with a kind of bitterness, as if to imply 
 that the more she prayed the more she found her- 
 self afflicted. " And, Oh !" she cried : " there is 
 ouo point on which I have indeed strenuously 
 
 abhorrence necessarily were which I entertained 
 on account of his conduct to the unfortunate 
 Felicia Gower — yet for Juliet's sake had I deter- 
 mined to assume a friendly demeanour towards 
 her husband. I could not help thinking likewise 
 that in all the misery which he himself was en- 
 during, with that brand burning like a Cain-curse 
 upon his brow, there was at least an adequate 
 chastisement, if not a complete atonement, for the 
 enormous crimes of which he had been guilty. 
 
 On accompanying Juliet to the drawing-room, 
 I found Lord Frederick pacing to and fro. He 
 wore a dressing-gown ; and around his head was 
 bound the bro.id black ribbon — an inch and a 
 half in depth, tightly tied, and giving a sinister 
 expression to his countenance. In my estimation 
 perhaps it was even more sinister than it would 
 otherwise have been ; because I was acquainted 
 with the terrible reason for which that sable fillet 
 was worn — I knew the precise nature of the mark 
 which it was there to conceal .' 
 
 The moment the door opened. Lord Frederick
 
 BLLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AW ACTRESS. 
 
 415 
 
 flung a quick shuddering glanoo towards me ; and 
 pale though hia cheeks already were, a still more 
 ghastly pallor came upon them. 
 
 ■' Lord Frederick," I hastily said, extending my 
 Land, " I am exceedingly sorry to learn that you 
 have experienced this accident with your horse." 
 
 The wretched young noblemaa made no reply 
 —but pressed my hand with so strong a convul- 
 sive violence that it hurt me : then abruptly turn- 
 ing towards his wife, he said, " My dear Juliet, I 
 hare still that thirst upon me. G-o and make me 
 some lemonade. Be sure you make it yourself, 
 my dear girl! — for no one caa so nicely com- 
 pound it to my taste." 
 
 Juliet hastened away from the room ; and I 
 full well comprehended that this was a mere pre- 
 text on Eavenscliffe's part to get rid of her for a 
 few minutes that he might be alone with me. The 
 instant the door closed behind her, he again seized 
 my hand and wrung it vehemently, murmuring, 
 " You have kept my secret. Miss Percy! — and I 
 thank you I God knows how sincerely I thank 
 you!" 
 
 " 1 assured you in London, my lord," I replied, 
 " that I would do nothing which should inter- 
 fere with my beloved friend Juliet's happiness." 
 
 " And it is for her sake only that you have 
 given me your hand !" he exclaimed with bitter- 
 ness : " for you regard me as a monster and a 
 
 monster indeed I am ! Yes— a monster of ini- 
 quity, and a monster now in personal appearance ! 
 The searing iron—" 
 
 " Hush, my lord ! — hush !" I said, glancing with 
 affright towards the door. "Juliet may return at 
 any moment !" 
 
 " Ob, my God I" he cried, wringing his hands in 
 the excruciating poisnancy f^f i>io mental anguish, 
 " how long am I to live thus? — how long can this 
 horrible secret be kept from poor Juliet's know- 
 ledge ? The curse of Cain is on my brow ! Never 
 more may I look the world in the face ! Ah, Miss 
 Percy ! if my misdeeds have been great, believe me 
 my punishment is horrible ! My thoughts are 
 like fiery serpents twisting and coiling and agitating 
 
 in my brain " 
 
 "Hush, my lord!" I again said. "Juliet may 
 
 return ! At least have pity upon her " 
 
 "Pity upon her?" he exclaimed, in a tone of 
 deep feeling. " I would do anything to serve her ! 
 I love her, Miss Percy— she is the noblest and the 
 best of women— and not the least of my many 
 crimes was my diabolical conduct towards Juliet 
 before she became my wife. Ah I perhaps you 
 will ask me wherefore I do not throw myself at her 
 feet, confess everything, bare my brow, and display 
 the brand of Cain upon it? She would not reproach 
 me— I know she would not!— she would offer me 
 her sympathy : but the sight would kill her ! Be- 
 sides, to confess that I had been thus branded — to 
 reveal myself as it were in the light of a felon- 
 viler than the vilest galley-slave of France, who 
 has a brand only upon his shoulder and not upon 
 his brow, — no, no! I could not do it!— all this is 
 impossible ! But, my God ! what is to become of 
 me ? I cannot live on thus :— and what mode of 
 
 suicide is there " 
 
 "My lord," I ejaculated, "add not to your 
 other misdeeds the crime of self-destruction — no, 
 nor even the crime of harbouring an idea of it !" 
 " Listen, Miss Percy !" exclaimed the wretched 
 
 young nobleman. " I must speak — and you must 
 hear me ! What mode of suicide, I ask, cau I 
 
 have recourse to -" 
 
 " My lord ! my lord ?" I ontreatingly ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " What mode of suicide ?" he continued, heed- 
 less of the interruption. " Oh ! I have asked my- 
 self that question a thousand times— I have sought 
 for a means of self-destruction which may render it 
 impossible that the brand upon my brow shall be 
 discovered ! If I seek the heights overlooking 
 the sea a couple of miles hence, and plunge head- 
 long into the deep water, the waves may throw up 
 my corse on the shore beforo the fish shall have 
 time to eat away the flash from this brow of mine ! 
 Again, if I hurl myself from the cliffs on the beach 
 
 below " 
 
 " For heaven's sake cease, my lord !" I mur- 
 mured, in an agony of terror. "Juliet will 
 
 come " 
 
 He paused — listened— and then exclaimed, " "No, 
 she comes not yet ! If I hurl myself from a 
 towering height on the rugged beach below, my 
 limbs may be mangled — but my countenance may 
 escape all injury ! Oh, you know not what hor- 
 ribly fantastic ideas have at times taken possession 
 of my brain ! What if I were to journey to 
 Naples or to Sicily, and plunge headlong into the 
 crater of Vesuvius or of Etna? Or what if I 
 were to dip my head into a bath of burning 
 vitriol ?" 
 
 " Cease, my lord ! cease !" I cried, now overcome 
 with the feelings of intensest horror which this 
 frightful discourse was but too woll oaloulatod to 
 conjure up. " I insist upon your silence, or upon 
 a change of topic ! I will hear no more of these 
 mad, these hideous ravings !" 
 
 " Mad !" muttered the miserable Lord Frederick : 
 "yes, I am indeed mad !— and it is no wonder 
 that instead of rational discourse, my tongue should 
 give vent to these wild excited ravings ! But is 
 not my existence a curse unto myself — a curse to 
 Ju'iet ? Oh, my God ! you know not my sufferings, 
 Ellen !" 
 
 He flung himself upon the sofa, sobbing and 
 weeping violently. I besought him to be calm : 
 for I feared lest Juliet should suddenly make her 
 appearance, and she might fancy that I had said 
 something thus wildly to excite him. 
 
 " I have thought too," he exclaimed, suddenly 
 starting up, his dark eyes flashing fierce fires below 
 the sable fillet which bound his head, — " I have 
 thought of sallying forth in quest of that miscreant 
 who planted his curse upon my brow ! I have 
 said to myself, ' If I can find him, what hideous 
 cruelties can I practice upon him P' — and then I 
 
 have thought " 
 
 " Now listen to me, Lord Frederick!" I said, in 
 a firm and decisive tone. " Tou wish me to keep 
 your secret — and I am keeping it ! But if by 
 your own madness you every moment threaten to 
 betray it, I shall feel it to be my duty to prepare 
 Juliet at once, so that it may not burst with over- 
 whelming suddenness upon her. I will gradually 
 
 lead her on to the knowledge of everything " 
 
 " No, no. Miss Percy ! you will not do this !" 
 ejaculated the young nobleman, his countenance 
 expressing the direst, most anguished terror. 
 
 I was rejoiced that I had thus been enabled to 
 find a means of touching him ; and still retaining
 
 416 
 
 ELIEN PERCY; OK, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTRESS. 
 
 a firm decisive look, I said, " Rest assured, my 
 lord, that I will not betray you unless I see that 
 you are resolved to betray yourself. Then, in that 
 case, for Juliet's sake— indeed for all the reasons 
 which I have enunciated — I shall deem it my duty 
 to take a decisive step. AFith the deepest pain 
 and sorrow should I adopt such a course : but be- 
 lieve me, my lord, it is no idle threat on my 
 part !" 
 
 " Miss Percy," he said, now suddenly becoming 
 calm, "I implore and entreat Oh, I conjure 
 
 you not to do this ! Pardon me for my ravings- 
 forgive me, Miss Percy " 
 
 " Hush ! Juliet comes !" I said. " Be com- 
 posed ! — be tranquil !" 
 
 " Tranquil !" murmured the wretched Ravens- 
 clifie, throwing himself upon the sofa, aa an 
 anguished expression swept over bis countenance. 
 
 But he said no more; and the next instant 
 Juliet made her appearance, bearing a crystal 
 jug containing the lemonade which she really fan- 
 cied her unfortunate husband had desired. 
 
 x:;d cf tolitjie i.