CHAPTER VIII.
The next morning broke dark and gloomy. Our artist rose from his couchlanguid and unrefreshed. His face was pale and haggard, with darkcircles round his eyes. What had transpired? Had he received a secondvisit from the headless lady? Not so. What then? He had sleptindifferently, having been kept awake by his own distracting thoughts.If he chanced to close his eyes for a moment his peace was disturbed bythe most chaotic and depressing dreams. Was he unwell? Did the fare atthe inn disagree with him? He made no complaints. Then why this strangesqueamishness--these wild chaotic dreams, through all of which _one_face in particular seemed always to the fore? Sometimes happy andsmiling, full of life and health, then sad and downcast--again lookingat him with pleading eyes, yet always the same face. Whose face this waswe will leave our readers to conjecture.
"Bah!" soliloquised our artist, as he placed one foot upon the floor, "achit of a girl like that, and at _my_ age too."
He wasn't much past eight and twenty, true, but then the girl running inhis thoughts was barely sixteen. In love? Not he. She was a dear, sweetchild, it was true, and pure as an angel; but her education, her extremeyouth, her position, her surroundings--no, no.
Now he was quite out of bed. His shaving water stood ready for himoutside. He opened the door ajar, and took it in. Then placing the jugon the table, he proceeded to strop his razors. As he did so, he caughta glimpse of his face in the mirror, and started.
"I'll tell you what it is, Vandyke, my boy," he said, accosting his ownreflection in the glass, "you are looking worse than I thought. Come,cheer up, and make the best of things. It would never do for the membersof the club to notice anything, and by putting two and two together,guess at the reason _why_. No, I must dissemble."
Now, men of the world are shrewd observers, and a very slight clue isoften enough. Here, for instance, was a case of two young persons, bothgood looking, being thrown together under circumstances peculiarlyfavourable for a flirtation, being alone and unobserved. Well, whatthen? Need they necessarily fall in love with each other? Not_necessarily_ perhaps, says the world, but in all probability they_will_. Time and opportunity alone being necessary to bring the matterabout. So the world may perhaps not be so very far wrong in itsdeductions.
Having now mixed up an abundant lather, McGuilp rubbed it well over hischin and lower part of his face. Then inserting his razor in the hotwater, he, with as steady a hand as possible under the circumstances,proceeded to reap the hirsute stubble from its native habitat until theoperation was completed to his satisfaction. Having at length finishedhis toilet with even more than usual precision, he called up a cheerfullook to his countenance, and joined the rest of the members at thebreakfast-table, with an hilarity and jocoseness of manner which tookthem all in.
The breakfast was sumptuous as usual. The table groaned under everydelicacy of the season, and our members, having seated themselves, didample honour to the repast. A yule log blazed on the hearth, and ageneral air of comfort pervaded the inn, as if to make up for the murkyweather without. Yet, despite these creature comforts, and the heartyappreciation of them by our members, there was one present whoseappetite failed him. In spite of his forced hilarity, which he now foundit difficult to sustain, for sad thoughts would obtrude themselves, ourartist but pecked at his food.
The fumes of the eggs and bacon sickened him. The kippered herrings werean offence unto his nostrils. He loathed such gross cheer. His toast androll were but nibbled at, his cup of coffee barely sipped, yet keep upappearances he must. So he talked a good deal of vapid nonsense, madetrivial remarks about the weather, etc., which served to put the rest ofthe members off the scent, engrossed as each was with his own favouritedish. The professional eye of Dr. Bleedem, however, was more on thealert, and not so easily deceived.
"You are not looking so well this morning, Mr. McGuilp," he said, eyeinghis patient critically.
Our artist hastened to assure him that he never felt better in his life.This remark, however, fell flat upon the doctor's ears, and he proceededas if he had not heard him.
"You have eaten nothing. I notice that you only play with your food.Now, when a patient plays with his food, it is a sure sign that there issomething wrong. You should take----"
"Oh! I don't want any medicine, thank you," interrupted McGuilp. "Iassure you I am all right. A little loss of appetite, as you say;perhaps from the sudden change in the weather, which always affects memore or less. The fact is, I didn't sleep very well last night, and----"
"Yes, I can see _that_," continued Dr. Bleedem.
By this time the other members were getting interested, and our artistfound himself suddenly the cynosure for all the scrutiny of the club.How he cursed the doctor's officiousness! Why couldn't he mind his ownbusiness?
"Yes, now you mention it, doctor, I can see that our young friend does_not_ seem quite up to the mark to-day," remarked Mr. Oldstone.
"By his appearance I should say the young gentleman had something on hismind," suggested Mr. Hardcase. "His countenance seems sicklied o'erwith the pale cast of thought," quoted Mr. Blackdeed from his favouriteauthor.
Then each member had something to say in turn, till our artist felthimself blushing up to the roots of his hair. In vain did he givehimself a twisted pinch in the fleshy part of his leg under the table.The blush would rise, and there was no checking it. He fancied he couldsee the members give side glances one to the other, or trying to conceala smile; but this may have been imagination.
Breakfast being now over, each member rose from the table, somegathering round the fire, one or two of them peering out into the murkygloom. Then Helen entered to clear away the breakfast things. She, too,seemed less lively than her wont, her face paler, and she went about herdomestic duties mechanically, with downcast eyes.
"Why, Helen, my girl," exclaimed Dr. Bleedem, "you don't look as brightas usual. Have _you_ been having a sleepless night? Have _you_ beenlosing your appetite?"
The girl looked up confusedly, and a deep blush suffused her face andneck. The fame of Dr. Bleedem was great in the neighbourhood. Shebelieved herself to be in the presence of a man who could read thesecrets of her inmost soul, and that all attempts to mask them from hisscrutinising gaze would be worse than useless.
"What has come to you young people of late, I don't know," continued Dr.Bleedem. "Now, here is Mr. McGuilp, he, too, has been losing hisappetite, and suffering from insomnia."
Oh! how our artist wished that the ground would open at his feet andswallow him up. In vain he trod on his toes and turned his face towardsthe window, as if peering into the snow that was now falling fast. Hisears continued to burn like fire, and all he could do, by mopping hisforehead with his pocket-handkerchief, was inadequate to keep back thetraitor blush.
"Oh! oh!" muttered Dr. Bleedem to himself, whilst gazing from one to theother. "Is that the way the wind lies?"
The members now began to look sideways, one at the other. One of themraised his eyebrows; another winked; a third suppressed a titter; but asthis all took place behind our artist's back, who was still looking outintently at the snow, there was nothing to wound his sensibilities.
At length Mr. Oldstone broke the silence. "When are you thinking ofbeginning the copy of our Helen's picture, Mr. McGuilp?"
"I? Oh yes, just so," replied our artist, waking up out of a reverie."Well, the fact is, we are most unfortunate in the weather. It isimpossible to begin if it continues like this. Should it clear up later,I will at once set to work."
"Good. And now gentlemen, what do you all propose doing to while awaythe time? A rubber of whist, a game of chess, backgammon, or what?"inquired the antiquary.
After a little discussion, it was decided that Dr. Bleedem, ProfessorCyanite, Mr. Crucible, and Mr. Oldstone, should form a party at whist.Mr. Blackdeed and Mr. Hardcase played a game of chess, while the poetand the painter, not being disposed to join in any game, retired into acorner together, and were soon deep in a discussion upon the arts ofpainting and poetry. A coupl
e of hours passed away, and still themembers were absorbed, each in his favourite pursuit, when the weatherbegan to clear up, and the sun shone brightly.
This decided our artist to set about his allotted task; so breaking offthe conversation with his poet friend, he repaired to the studio, andplacing a clean canvas, the same size as that of the portrait, upon theeasel, he commenced his copy; and here we will leave him to continue histask for the present.
* * * * *
Over a fortnight had passed since we left our artist at his work. Thetask was now completed. He had found it necessary to have one or twoextra sittings from Helen herself on the copy, just to give more truthto it, as he said. However, as everything on this earth comes to an end,there was an end also to these sittings.
"Helen," said our artist to his model at the last, "I must go. Myaffairs call me back to Italy. I have been keeping my studio on all thistime, and I have certain business to settle which will brook no delay."
Helen's countenance fell, and her lip quivered. Her eyes grew moist anddowncast. In a voice that she endeavoured to render firm, she venturedto inquire: "And will it be for long, sir?"
"For very long, Helen? Perhaps for ever."
Helen had no answer to this. Her sobs were choking her. The tears stolesilently down her cheeks, but she whisked them away with herhandkerchief, and did her best to appear outwardly calm.
Our artist, too, felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes suffused withtears.
"Perhaps, sir," meekly suggested the girl, "when you have settled allyour affairs abroad, you may think of taking a holiday, and be paying usa flying visit, just to see Mr. Oldstone and the other gentlemen, youknow. I'm sure both father and mother will be glad to see you again."
"I am afraid not, Helen. I am afraid not," and our artist slowly andsadly shook his head.
"What! _never_--never again!" almost shrieked the child.
Here she broke down completely. All restraint and propriety flew to thewinds. Nature, till now trampled upon and held in abeyance, at thispoint rebelled and relieved herself in a torrent of the bitterest sobsand tears.
"Helen! dear Helen! What is this?" cried McGuilp, running to herassistance, his own tears falling fast the while!
"Oh! what a brute I have been! Quick, rouse yourself. There arefootsteps in the passage. Somebody is coming." Thus warned, there was asudden mopping of eyes and blowing of noses, when the door opened, andDame Hearty presented herself to ask if Helen could be spared to assisther in the kitchen.
"Oh! certainly," replied our artist, averting his face and busyinghimself with putting away his palette and brushes, whilst assuming afirm voice. "Yes," continued he, still turning his back, "I think I maysay that I have finished with her now. This is the last sitting in fact.There is the copy I intend to present to the club. This one here is thefirst one, which I am going to keep for myself. Which of the two do youprefer, Dame Hearty?"
In this way he rattled on to hide his confusion. Helen had slippednoiselessly away, bathed her face in cold water, and returned to thekitchen.
"Well, sir," replied Dame Hearty, in answer to our artist's question, "Ireally don't know what to say. They are both so lovely, there's not apin to choose between them."
Then, scanning our artist's countenance, she observed:
"You appear to have a bad cold, sir."
"I am afraid I have, Dame Hearty," said McGuilp; "the weather has beenvery uncertain, and I think I must have committed some imprudence."
"Let me make you a basin of gruel, sir. No? It's a capital thing, andyou should keep out of all draughts, and----"
"And keep my bed, perhaps you'll tell me, my good woman," interruptedMcGuilp. "No, no; I've no time to coddle. Do you know, Dame Hearty, Imust be off to-morrow to London by the stage, as I have to return toRome without further delay. Already I am long after my time."
"So soon! Why, you _have_ paid us a short visit," exclaimed the hostess."Well, sir, you knows best. All I can say is that my husband and I willbe most glad to see you again, when next you be passing this way."
A knock at the door, and our host entered to ask if he might be allowedto see the copy.
"Certainly, my good host, here it is," said McGuilp.
Jack Hearty went into ecstacies over it, saying he didn't know which heliked best.
"Mr. McGuilp says he is off again to-morrow, Jack," began our hostess.
"Yes," broke in McGuilp. "What time does the stage start? Early? I'dbetter begin my packing at once," and off he went to his bedroom to makepreparations.
The fact was, he wanted to be alone, for it was an effort to keep up acheerful appearance with a sad heart. He locked himself within his room,and having collected together a few articles of clothing--enough tofill his valise, he threw himself into an arm-chair and gave himself upto meditation.
It will be remembered a few pages back that our artist accused himselfof behaving like a brute towards his model. In this he did himselfinjustice. He had never deliberately set about gaining the affections ofthis simple village maiden. Any base design against her was the farthestfrom his thoughts. He admired her innocence and beauty, and wished thatit might never lose its unsullied purity. He had never dreamed ofactually falling in love with her, child as she was, and his conduct hadbeen always that of a fond parent towards a pretty child. He littlerecked of any danger, either to her or to himself, but he found herbeauty gain upon him day by day, till at length he was fairly in thetoils. 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 withhim, nor would it be politic for him to fall in love with her. Wrong herhe would not. Marry her he could not. For, besides hampering himself asa struggling artist with a wife and family, he dreaded quarrelling withalmost the only relation he had living: a rich uncle; from whom he hadexpectations, and who would most decidedly consider that he had draggedthe family name in the mire by marrying the daughter of a countryinnkeeper. In what way, then, it will be asked, did he think he hadacted brutally towards the girl? This is what he blamed himself for:First, for allowing himself to be carried away with feelings of lovetowards the girl, however secretly; and then for incautiously allowingher to discover his secret. For, although he had not spoken of love, youmay depend upon it that he had _looked_ it, and it was not difficult forher to read in his burning glances the secret of his soul. Love leads tolove. He, too, read in the soft eyes, the heaving bosom, the stifledsigh, the deepening blush, and other tell-tale signs that she loved_him_. Thus, each had learned the other's secret. They had spoken toeach other with their eyes, and thus just as much mischief had beenwrought as if the most courtly phrases had been used. He had notintended that his glances should be understood, but they _were_. Thus heblamed himself.
Matters being thus, there was no other remedy but flight. It would be awrench, both for himself and for the girl, but the kindest thing in theend. In fact, it was his only course. So, having hurriedly finished hispacking, he went downstairs to inform the members of the club of hisintention.
It may easily be conceived how unwelcome was the news, for our artisthad made himself extremely popular with all, and was looked upon as agreat acquisition as a story-teller. Mr. Oldstone, in particular,exhausted all his powers of persuasion to yet delay his departure, buthe found him obdurate. The good antiquary, who was an old bachelor, hadgrown to love our artist as a son; and now that the hour of parting hadcome, it rent him sore.
In the evening a farewell carousal was given in his honour, in whichseveral bowls of punch were discussed; much tobacco smoked; a fewspeeches made; several anecdotes related; a song or two; besides someatrocious puns, with much laughter and witty conversation, until theutterance of all grew somewhat thick; and we regret to add that theworthy chairman, in his laudable attempts to do honour to his youngprotege, had to be assisted upstairs and put to bed in a state decidedlymellow.
Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume III Page 8