"Yes," broke in McGuilp. "What time does the stage start? Early? I'd better begin my packing at once," and off he went to his bedroom to make preparations.
The fact was, he wanted to be alone, for it was an effort to keep up a cheerful appearance with a sad heart. He locked himself within his room, and having collected together a few articles of clothing—enough to fill his valise, he threw himself into an arm-chair and gave himself up to meditation.
It will be remembered a few pages back that our artist accused himself of behaving like a brute towards his model. In this he did himself injustice. He had never deliberately set about gaining the affections of this simple village maiden. Any base design against her was the farthest from his thoughts. He admired her innocence and beauty, and wished that it might never lose its unsullied purity. He had never dreamed of actually falling in love with her, child as she was, and his conduct had been always that of a fond parent towards a pretty child. He little recked of any danger, either to her or to himself, but he found her beauty gain upon him day by day, till at length he was fairly in the toils. Yet he had never spoken to her of love. No, not a word. He would not. He had no desire that the girl should fall in love with him, nor would it be politic for him to fall in love with her. Wrong her he would not. Marry her he could not. For, besides hampering himself as a struggling artist with a wife and family, he dreaded quarrelling with almost the only relation he had living: a rich uncle; from whom he had expectations, and who would most decidedly consider that he had dragged the family name in the mire by marrying the daughter of a country innkeeper. In what way, then, it will be asked, did he think he had acted brutally towards the girl? This is what he blamed himself for: First, for allowing himself to be carried away with feelings of love towards the girl, however secretly; and then for incautiously allowing her to discover his secret. For, although he had not spoken of love, you may depend upon it that he had looked it, and it was not difficult for her to read in his burning glances the secret of his soul. Love leads to love. He, too, read in the soft eyes, the heaving bosom, the stifled sigh, the deepening blush, and other tell-tale signs that she loved him. Thus, each had learned the other's secret. They had spoken to each other with their eyes, and thus just as much mischief had been wrought as if the most courtly phrases had been used. He had not intended that his glances should be understood, but they were. Thus he blamed himself.
Matters being thus, there was no other remedy but flight. It would be a wrench, both for himself and for the girl, but the kindest thing in the end. In fact, it was his only course. So, having hurriedly finished his packing, he went downstairs to inform the members of the club of his intention.
It may easily be conceived how unwelcome was the news, for our artist had made himself extremely popular with all, and was looked upon as a great acquisition as a story-teller. Mr. Oldstone, in particular, exhausted all his powers of persuasion to yet delay his departure, but he found him obdurate. The good antiquary, who was an old bachelor, had grown to love our artist as a son; and now that the hour of parting had come, it rent him sore.
In the evening a farewell carousal was given in his honour, in which several bowls of punch were discussed; much tobacco smoked; a few speeches made; several anecdotes related; a song or two; besides some atrocious puns, with much laughter and witty conversation, until the utterance of all grew somewhat thick; and we regret to add that the worthy chairman, in his laudable attempts to do honour to his young protégé, had to be assisted upstairs and put to bed in a state decidedly mellow.
CHAPTER IX.
The next morning broke clear and frosty, without a cloud in the sky.
"What bitter mockery!" thought McGuilp, as he looked on the beaming face of Nature, and contrasted it with the feelings he bore hidden in his breast. "A day like yesterday would have been more in harmony with my soul." The sun actually smiled on his departure.