The landlord was then called off to serve the driver with a mug of ale,
but before he went he called out to his daughter, who was hiding herself
behind her mother in the passage, "Now, then, Helen, my girl, the
gentleman is going, and wants to bid you good-bye." Helen now came forward, pale and trembling, while Dame Hearty, perhaps
guessing the state of things, prudently retired, thus leaving the young
couple to say a word to each other in private. "Good-bye, Helen, my girl, and may God bless you," was all our artist
could trust himself to say at the last; but his sad glance and the
tender squeeze he gave her dimpled hand spoke volumes. "Good-bye, sir," faltered the child, now choking with sobs; "good-bye,
and may you be happy." Then breaking down altogether, she rushed inside
and was seen no more. Our artist looked after her for a moment as if
dazed. "Now, then, sir," cried the driver, "come along if you're coming; we're
off." McGuilp, thus roused, threw his cloak around him, pressed his hat over
his eyes, and hastily mounted. Crack went the whip, off went the horses,
and our artist was swiftly borne from the scene where he had passed so
many happy hours, midst cheering and waving of hats, to which he
graciously, but with an aching heart, responded. He was now alone with
his own thoughts, and barely glancing at the shifting wintry landscape
as it flashed passed him, was in no humour to exchange commonplaces with
his fellow passengers. Here we will leave him for the present, and
return to our inn. The members of the club, with the exception of our antiquary, who had
remained behind to finish a letter for the post, had resolved upon a
woodland ramble, and were chatting lightly by the way. "Yes, yes; there is no doubt about the poor lad being hard hit," said
one. "I noticed it from the first." "So did I," put in another. "In good time he bolted, for these sort of
things never end well when allowed to go on ahead." "Of course, marrying her would be out of the question altogether,
looking at it from any point of view," remarked a third; "besides,
there's her age. Why, she's a mere child." "True," observed a fourth, "and even supposing her to have been of a
marriageable age, he, being but a struggling artist, wholly dependent on
his profession, and doomed to eke out a precarious living by the sale of
his pictures, what else but misery could there be in store for either of
them by such a union?" But here we will leave them to continue their ramble and their gossip. It has been stated above that our antiquary had remained behind to
finish a letter. Having waved his last adieus to his young protégé, and
waited till the coach had disappeared in the distance, he returned to
the breakfast room with a sigh, muttering to himself, "Poor boy! poor
boy!" He then collected his writing materials, but the breakfast things
had not yet been cleared away. Presently Helen entered, and proceeded to clear the table. Her face was
pale, but calm; her eyes downcast. Our antiquary appeared not to notice
her overmuch, but was secretly scanning her countenance. At length, when
the table was quite clear, and Helen returned with a fresh log for the
fire, he slowly advanced towards her, and placing his right hand on her
head and his left on her right shoulder, whilst he toyed for a moment
with her bright curls, he remained for some moments in silence. The
action was that of one invoking a blessing. Then seizing her right hand
in both of his, and raising it to his breast, he gave it a gentle
squeeze; then dropped it and turned away, still without a word. Now, poor Helen's heart was full to overflowing, in spite of her
outwardly calm demeanour. She was in possession of a weighty secret,
which seemed too heavy for her to bear alone. Yet who was there to share
it with her? She had no friend of her own age to whom she could open her
heart and into whose sympathetic ears she could pour forth her woes. Her
parents, much as she loved and respected them, did not seem to her to be
the sort of people likely to give her that sympathy she yearned for. They would laugh at her, reprove her perhaps, and tell her roughly to
get all that rubbish out of her head at once, etc. Not a soul had she in
the world to whom she could cling, or from whom she could expect one ray
of comfort. As to her secret being discovered by the other members of
the club, this she dreaded most of all. She could imagine their banter,
their coldness, or their sneers. Dr. Bleedem, too, who would prescribe
her physic, and promise to make her all right again, provided she
followed his course of treatment. Love is by nature reticent, and not willing to make its secret common
property. Rather than divulge its sacred feelings to the first
light-hearted outsider it will prefer--oh, how infinitely!--to bear its
own burden alone--aye, if need be, even to the grave. Never before in all her life did Helen need a friend and comforter as
she did now, when, lo, in the very nick of time, there came to her this
kindly old man whom she had known from her earliest childhood, who had
dandled her on his knee, and never passed her without a kind word. He,
who seemed to have read her heart, now came forward with his silent
blessing, like an angel sent from Heaven to comfort her. This was just
what she needed. This mute expression of sympathy from someone whom she
felt could understand her. She construed his silence thus: "There,
there, my pretty child; we understand each other, don't we? You see,
I've guessed your secret, and you may be sure that it will be safe in my
keeping. I am not surprised. These things are common to youth, and very
hard to bear for the time, but take comfort. Everything has its day. This, too, will pass in time. Cheer up; try and forget it. What! you
can't? Oh, yes you will--not all at once--no; but take courage. This is
your first great grief; but the world is full of trials, and we are sent
here on purpose to bear them. No one escapes them altogether; but rest
assured that you will always find a friend and comforter in Obadiah
Oldstone." This, and much more, did the child understand by the antiquary's silent
magnetic touch. Her heart overflowed with gratitude, and she was unable
longer to control herself, but, bursting into the most passionate sobs,
she covered her face with her hands and was making for the door when
Oldstone called her back. A Spanish proverb says, "He who loves you will make you weep." Helen had
proved the truth of this adage. "Come, my girl," said Oldstone; "am I such an ogre that I need scare
you? Come to an old man, and pour forth all its pretty griefs. We used
to be such friends, you know. Did you think I didn't guess your secret
all along? We old men of the world have sharp eyes, and very little
escapes us. Well, well; I am not surprised, you know. The young man who
left this morning was comely, and a gentleman, besides a man of talent
and resources.