GUY
Guy could not make the effort to fight the doom upon their love declared by Pauline in her letter. He felt that if he did not acquiesce he would go mad; a deadness struck at him that he fancied was a wonderful sense of relief, and, hurriedly packing a few things, he went in pursuit of his friend Comeragh, in case it might not even now be too late to go to Persia. However, though he did not manage to be in time for Sir George Gascony, his friend secured him a job on some committee that was being organized in Macedonia by enthusiastic Liberals. His previous experience there was recommendation enough, and after he had seen his father, acquired his outfit, and settled up everything at Plashers Mead by means of Maurice Avery, early in September he set out Eastward.
In Rome Guy picked up Michael Fane, who was on the point of starting for the Benedictine monastery at Cava. Having a few days to spare before he went on to Brindisi, he agreed to spend the time with Michael tramping in the sun along the Parthenopean shore.
"I can't understand what consolation you expect to find by shutting yourself up with a lot of frowsty monks," said Guy, fretfully.
"Nor can I understand when just at the moment you have been dealt the blow that should at last determine if you are to be an artist," retorted Michael—"I can't understand why you choose that exact moment to go and be futile in Macedonia."
"Do you think I would be an artist now, even if I could?" asked Guy, fiercely. "How I hate such a point of view. No, no; I have made myself miserable, and I have made some one else miserable because I thought I wanted to be an artist. But never, never shall that old jejune ambition be gratified now."
"You'll never try to write anything more?"
"Nothing," said Guy.
"Then what has all this been for?"
"Perhaps to come back in a year, and.... Listen: