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AYALA’S ANGEL
Then Mr. Dosett felt that, disagreeable as it was, he must
preach the sermon which his wife had preached to him, and
he did preach it. He spoke timidly of his own poverty, and
the need which there was that Ayala should share it. He spoke
a word of the danger which might come from luxury, and of
the discontent which would be felt when the girl returned to
her own home. Something he added of the propriety of like
living with like, and ended by praying that Ayala might be excused. The words came from him with none of that energy
which his wife could have used,—were uttered in a low melancholy drone; but still they were words hard to answer, and
called upon Lady Albury for all her ingenuity in finding an argument against them.
But Lady Albury was strong-minded, and did find an argument. “You musn’t be angry with me,” she said, “if I don’t quite
agree with you. Of course you wish to do the best you can for
this dear child.”
“Indeed I do, Lady Albury.”
“How is anything then to be done for her if she remains
shut up in your house? You do not, if I understand, see much
company yourselves.”
“None at all.”
“You won’t be angry with me for my impertinence in alluding to it.”
“Not in the least. It is the fact that we live altogether to
ourselves.”
“And the happiest kind of life too for married people,”
said Lady Albury, who was accustomed to fill her house in
the country with a constant succession of visitors, and to have
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
engagements for every night of the week in town. “But for
young people it is not quite so good. How is a young lady to get
herself settled in life?”
“Settled?” asked Mr. Dosett, vaguely.
“Married,” suggested Lady Albury, more plainly. Mr. Dosett
shook his head. No idea on the subject had ever flashed across
his mind. To provide bread and meat, a bed and clothes, for
his sister’s child he had felt to be a duty,—but not a husband.
Husbands came, or did not,—as the heavens might be propitious. That Ayala should go to Stalham for the sake of finding
a husband was certainly beyond the extent of his providing
care. “In fact how is a girl to have a chance at all unless she is
allowed to see some one? Of course I don’t say this with reference to our house. There will be no young men there, or
anything of that kind. But, taking a broad view, unless you
let a girl like that have what chances come in her way how is
she to get on? I think you have hardly a right to do it.”
“We have done it for the best.”
“I am sure of that, Mr. Dosett. And I hope you will tell
Mrs. Dosett, with my compliments, how thoroughly I appreciate her goodness. I should have called upon her instead of
coming here, only that I cannot very well get into that part of
the town.”
“I will tell her what you are good enough to say.”
“Poor Ayala! I am afraid that her other aunt, Aunt Tringle,
was not as good to her as your wife. I have heard about how all
that occurred in Rome. She was very much admired there. I am
told that she is perfectly lovely.”
“Pretty well.”
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AYALA’S ANGEL
“A sort of beauty that we hardly ever see now,—and very,
very clever.”
“Ayala is clever, I think.”
“She ought to have her chance. She ought indeed. I don’t
think you quite do your duty by such a girl as that unless you
let her have a chance. She is sure to get to know people, and to
be asked from one house to another. I speak plainly, for I really
think you ought to let her come.”
All this sank deeply into the heart of Uncle Reginald.
Whether it was for good or evil it seemed to him at the moment to be unanswerable. If there was a chance of any
good thing for Ayala, surely it could not be his duty to bar
her from that chance. A whole vista of new views in reference to the treatment of young ladies was opened to him by
the words of his visitor. Ayala certainly was pretty. Certainly
she was clever. A husband with an income would certainly be
a good thing. Embryo husbands with incomes do occasionally
fall in love with pretty girls. But how can any pretty girl be
fallen in love with unless some one be permitted to see her?
At Kingsbury Crescent there was not a man to be seen from
one end of the year to another. It occurred to him now, for
the first time, that Ayala by her present life was shut out from
any chance of marriage. It was manifestly true that he had no
right to seclude her in that fashion. At last he made a promise, rashly, as he felt at the very moment of making it, that
he would ask his wife to allow Ayala to go to Stalham. Lady
Albury of course accepted this as an undertaking that Ayala
should come, and went away triumphant.
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Mr. Dosett walked home across the parks with a troubled
mind, thinking much of all that had passed between him and
the lady of fashion. It was with great difficulty that he could
quite make up his mind which was right,—the lady of fashion
or his wife. If Ayala was to live always as they lived at Kingsbury
Crescent, if it should in process of time be her fate to marry
some man in the same class as themselves, if continued care
as to small pecuniary needs was to be her future lot, then certainly her comfort would only be disturbed by such a visit as
that now proposed. And was it not probable that such would
be the destiny in store for her? Mr. Dosett knew the world
well enough to be aware that all pretty girls such as Ayala cannot find rich husbands merely by exhibiting their prettiness.
Kingsbury Crescent, unalloyed by the dangers of Stalham,
would certainly be the most secure. But then he had been told
that Ayala now had special chances offered to her, and that he
had no right to rob her of those chances. He felt this the more
strongly, because she was not his daughter,—only his niece.
With a daughter he and his wife might have used their own
judgment without check. But now he had been told that he had
no right to rob Ayala of her chances, and he felt that he had not
the right. By the time that he reached Kingsbury Crescent he
had, with many misgivings, decided in favour of Stalham.
It was now some weeks since the first invitation had been
refused, and during those weeks life had not been pleasant at
the Crescent. Ayala moped and pined as though some great
misfortune had fallen upon her. When she had first come to
the Crescent she had borne herself bravely, as a man bears
a trouble when he is conscious that he has brought it on him-
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AYALA’S ANGEL
self by his own act, and is proud of the act which has done
it. But when that excitement has gone, and the trouble still
remains, the pride wears off, and the man is simply alive to his
suffering. So it had been with Ayala. Then had come the visit to Brook Street. When, soon after that, she was invited to Stalham, it seemed as though a new world was being opened to
her. There came a moment when she could again rejoice that
she had quarrelled with her Aunt Emmeline. This new world
would be a much better world than the Tringle world. Then
had come the great blow, and it had seemed to her as though
there was nothing but Kingsbury Crescent before her for
the rest of her wretched life.
There was not a detail of all this hidden from the eyes of
Aunt Margaret. Stalham had decided that Aunt Margaret was
ugly and uninteresting. Stalham, according to its own views,
was right. Nevertheless the lady in Kingsbury Crescent had
both eyes to see and a heart to feel. She was hot of temper,
but she was forgiving. She liked her own way, but she was affectionate. She considered it right to teach her niece the unsavoury mysteries of economy, but she was aware that such
mysteries must be distasteful to one brought up as Ayala. Even
when she had been loudest in denouncing Ayala’s mutiny, her
heart had melted in ruth because Ayala had been so unhappy.
She, too, had questioned herself again and again as to the justness of her decision. Was she entitled to rob Ayala of her
chances? In her frequent discussions with her husband she
still persisted in declaring that Kingsbury Crescent was safe,
and that Stalham would be dangerous. But, nevertheless, in
her own bosom she had misgivings. As she saw the poor girl
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
mope and weary through one day after another, she could not
but have misgivings.
“I have had that Lady Albury with me at the office today, and have almost promised that Ayala shall go to her on
the 8th of November.” It was thus that Mr. Dosett rushed at
once into his difficulty as soon as he found himself up-stairs
with his wife.
“You have?”
“Well, my dear, I almost did. She said a great deal, and
I could not but agree with much of it. Ayala ought to have her
chances.”
“What chances?” demanded Mrs. Dosett, who did not at all
like the expression.
“Well; seeing people. She never sees anybody here.”
“Nobody is better than some people,” said Mrs. Dosett,
meaning to be severe on Lady Albury’s probable guests.
“But if a girl sees nobody,” said Mr. Dosett, “she can have
no,—no,—no chances.”
“She has the chance of wholesome victuals,” said Mrs. Dosett,
“and I don’t know what other chances you or I can give her.”
“She might see—a young man.” This Mr. Dosett said very
timidly.
“A young fiddlestick! A young man! Young men should
be waited for till they come naturally, and never thought
about if they don’t come at all. I hate this looking after young
men. If there wasn’t a young man for the next dozen years we
should do better,—so as just to get out of the way of thinking about them for a time.” This was Mrs. Dosett’s philosophy; but in spite of her philosophy she did yield, and on that
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AYALA’S ANGEL
night it was decided that Ayala after all was to be allowed to
go to Stalham.
* * *
To Mr. Dosett was deputed the agreeable task of telling
Ayala on the next evening what was to befall her. If anything
agreeable was to be done in that sombre house it was always
deputed to the master.
“What!” said Ayala, jumping from her chair.
“On the eighth of November,” said Mr. Dosett.
“To Stalham?”
“Lady Albury was with me yesterday at the office, and your
aunt has consented.”
“Oh, Uncle Reginald!” said Ayala, falling on her knees,
and hiding her face on his lap. Heaven had been once more
opened to her.
“I’ll never forget it,” said Ayala, when she went to thank
her aunt,—”never.”
“I only hope it may not do you a mischief.”
“And I beg your pardon, Aunt Margaret, because I was,—
I was,—because I was—” She could not find the word which
would express her own delinquency, without admitting more
than she intended to admit,—”too self-asserting, considering
that I am only a young girl.” That would have been her meaning could she have found appropriate words.
“We need not go back to that now,” said Aunt Margaret.
END OF VOL. I
Литературно-художественное издание
Anthony Trollope
Ayala’s Angel · I
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