No pen can describe the enthusiasm with which the audience received the development of the drama, nor the interest which it seemed to excite.
Inspired by the applause that greeted them, the performers exerted all their efforts; and the excellence of the tragedy, united with the talent of the actors and the beauty of the scenery, achieved a triumph not often witnessed within the walls of that or any other theatre.
The Third Act commenced. Selina Fitzherbert appeared upon the stage; and her presence was welcomed with rapturous applause.
She came forward, and acknowledged the kindness of the audience with a graceful curtsey.
Markham surveyed her with interest, in consequence of the manner in which her name had been mentioned to him by the manager;—but that interest grew more profound, and was gradually associated with feelings of extreme surprise, suspense, and uncertainty, for he fancied that if ever he saw Ellen Monroe in his life, there was she—or else her living counterpart—before him—an actress playing a part in his own drama!
He was stupefied;—he strained his eyes—he leant forward—he borrowed the opera-glass of a gentleman seated next to him;—and the more he gazed, the more he felt convinced that he beheld Ellen Monroe in the person of Selina Fitzherbert.
At length the actress spoke: wonder upon wonder—it was Ellen's voice—her intonation—her accent—her style of speaking.
Markham was amazed—confounded.
He inquired of his neighbour whether Selina Fitzherbert was the young lady's real name, or an assumed one.
The gentleman to whom he spoke did not know.