“Get a carriage: bring it round to the garden-gate: I shall soon be ready for you. Meanwhile, let me go and kiss her good by?”
I saw her break away from his fond arms; and, quick as thought, I retreated to my chamber, unobserved as I had come. I would not for worlds that she should have known that I had overheard her. I got into bed again, and closed my eyes. She passed my door, and ascended to her own room. Her hasty steps sounded overhead for some time,—hurriedly packing up, I suppose,—then she again descended, and paused at my door.
The lock turned, and her sylph-like form glided to my bed side. She stooped over me—imagining I slept—and smoothed my hair beneath my cap with her tiny hand; then she kissed my forehead, and murmured,—
“Genevra! dear Genevra! dear friend! when you awake in the morning you will seek me, but find me not: perhaps you may miss me for a little while,—may sometimes think of me with love and kindness: I hope so. I go to a new life—the life of love! I go to accomplish my destiny.”
Once again she kissed me, then glided from the room. I heard her tell Lord Glenfells to bring the carriage to the garden-gate. My room looked on the street. I rose again from bed, and directed my steps to a little back room, near my own, which overlooked this gate. I wanted to see her go, though she knew not I was a witness of that departure. Her behaviour was an enigma I could not solve, and the reasons for which ever remained a mystery. If she was determined to become the associate of this man, why not go to him in broad daylight: what prevented her? She was her own mistress: no one did, or had the right to control her. She had long ago emancipated herself from her teacher’s guardianship; what, then, was the reason of this secret flight? I knew not then: I know not now.
I had stood watching at the window of the room for some time, when I saw Lord Glenfells and Blanche emerge from the shadow of the porch, and pass through the gate; he put her in the landau, saw the baggage placed behind; seated himself by her, and, like lightning, they vanished from my sight.
The amazement of our hostess can better be imagined than described, when, on going to her room next day, she found it unoccupied—the stage and personal wardrobe of its fair proprietress gone also: and whither had she taken her flight? how strange the gifted child of song should yield to a momentary infatuation; and, listening to impulse, forgetting reason, abandon herself to such a life: what demon possessed her?
I had expected a violent storm on the part of M. Belmont; but, to my astonishment, he received my recital of the night’s adventure with perfect indifference: and remarked, with imperturbable phlegm, that “it was her own affair; she ought to know best what she was about.” I had expected some surprise, sorrow, or at least an emotion of some sort; but I forgot that my teacher had been hardened in the ways of the world; and births, deaths, marriages, seductions, and every other evil thing, was a matter of course to him. He always maintained that every sensible person should be the best judge of their own conduct: like a true Frenchman, he did as he pleased, and allowed every one else to do the same, unmolested, undisturbed by criticism or advice.
After breakfast, Madame Bonni and I sat together speculating and mystifying about Blanche’s strange behaviour: the problem, however, could not be solved by us. It was past elucidation, and the more we talked, the farther we got from the point—the motive of action. While we were discussing, I was called away; my lover had returned.