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AYALA’S ANGEL
must be explained that the young lady had greatly exaggerated her mother’s words, and that her mother had exaggerated
those which Sir Thomas had spoken. “She is a stupid idiot,”
Sir Thomas had said to his wife. “If she is obedient, and does
her duty, of course I shall do something for her some day.”
This had been stretched to that promise of concession which
Gertrude communicated to her lover.
This was the assistance which Frank Houston received in
making up his mind on Saturday night. If what the girl said
was true, there was still open to him the manner of life which
he had prepared for himself; and he did believe the announcement to be true. Though Sir Thomas had been so persistent in
his refusals, his experience in life had taught him to believe
that a parent’s sternness is never a match for a daughter’s obstinacy. Had there been a touch of tenderness in his heart to
the young lady herself he would not have abandoned her so
easily. But he had found his consolation when giving up his
hope of Sir Thomas’s money. Now, should he again take to
the girl, and find his consolation in accepting the money?
Should he resolve upon doing so, this would materially affect any communication which he might make to Imogene on
the following day.
While thus in doubt he went into the smoking-room and
there he found any thinking to be out of the question. A great
question was being debated as to club law. One man had made
an assertion. He had declared that another man had been
seen playing cards in a third man’s company. A fourth man
had, thereupon, put his hat on his head, and had declared
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
contumaciously that the “assertion was not true.” Having
so declared he had contumaciously stalked out of the room,
and had banged the door after him, — very contumaciously
indeed. The question was whether the contumacious gentleman had misbehaved himself in accordance with the rules of
the club, and, if so, what should be done to him. Not true is as
bad as “false.” “False,” applied to a gentleman in a club, must
be matter either of an apology or expulsion. The objectionable
word had, no doubt, been said in defence of an absent man,
and need not, perhaps, have been taken up had the speaker
not at once put on his hat and stalked out of the room, and
banged the door. It was asserted that a lie may be given by
the way in which a door is banged. And yet no club punishes
the putting on of hats, or stalking off, or the banging of doors.
It was a difficult question, and occupied Frank Houston till
two o’clock in the morning, to the exclusion of Gertrude Tringle and Imogene Docimer.
On the Sunday morning he was not up early, nor did he
go to church. The contumacious gentleman was a friend of
his, whom he knew that no arguments would induce to apologise. He believed also that gentleman No. 3 might have been
seen playing cards with gentleman No. 2, — so that there was
no valid excuse for the banging of the door. He was much exercised by the points to be decided, so that when he got into
a cab to be taken to Mrs. Docimer’s house he had hardly come to
any other conclusion than that one which had arisen to him
from a comparison between the two young ladies. Imogene
was nearly perfect, and Gertrude was as nearly the reverse
as a young lady could be with the proper number of eyes in
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AYALA’S ANGEL
her head and a nose between them. The style of her letter
was abominable to him. “Very ill indeed; — as you will understand, if you ever really loved me!” There was a mawkish claptrap about it which thoroughly disgusted him. Everything
from Imogene was straightforward and downright whether
it were love or whether it were anger. But then to be settled
with an income of £3,000 a year would relieve him from such
a load of care!
“And so Tringle père does not see the advantage of such
a son-in-law,” said Imogene, after the first greetings were over
between them. The greetings had been very simple, — just
a touch of the hand, just a civil word, — civil, but not in
the least tender, just an inclination of the head, and then two
seats occupied with all the rug between them.
“Yes, indeed!” said Frank. “The man is a fool, because he
will probably get somebody who will behave less well to his
daughter, and make a worse use of his money.”
“Just so. One can only be astonished at his folly. Is there no
hope left?”
“A glimmer there is.”
“Oh, indeed!”
“I got a letter last night from my lady-love, in which she
tells me that she is very ill, and that her sickness is working
upon her father’s bowels.”
“Frank!”
“It is the proper language; — working upon her father’s
bowels of compassion. Fathers always have bowels of compassion at last.”
“You will return then, of course?”
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
“What do you say?”
“As for myself, — or as for you?”
“As a discreet and trusty counsellor. To me you have always
been a trusty counsellor.”
“Then I should put a few things into a bag, go down to
Merle Park, and declare that, in spite of all the edicts that ever
came from a father’s mouth, you cannot absent yourself while
you know that your Gertrude is ill.”
“And so prepare a new cousin for you to press to your
bosom.”
“If you can endure her for always, why should not I for
an hour or two, now and again?”
“Why not, indeed? In fact, Imogene, this enduring, and not
enduring, — even this living, and not living, — is, after all, but
an affair of the imagination. Who can tell but, that as years roll
on, she may be better-looking even than you.”
“Certainly.”
“And have as much to say for herself?”
“A great deal more that is worth hearing.”
“And behave herself as a mother of a family with quite as
much propriety?”
“In all that I do not doubt that she would be my superior.”
“More obedient I am sure she would be.”
“Or she would be very disobedient.”
“And then she can provide me and my children with ample
comforts.”
“Which I take it is the real purpose for which a wife should
be married.”
“Therefore,” said he, — and then he stopped.
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AYALA’S ANGEL
“And therefore there should be no doubt.”
“Though I hate her,” he said, clenching his fist with violence as he spoke, “with every fibre of my heart, — still you
think there should be no doubt?”
“That, Frank, is violent language, — and foolish.”
“And though I love you so intensely that whenever I see
her the memory of you becomes an agony to me.”
“Such language is only more violent and more foolish.”
“Surely not, if I have made up my mind at last, that I never will willingly see Miss Tringle again.” Here he got up,
and walking across the rug, stood over her, and waited as
though expecting some word from her. But she, putting her
two hands up to her head, and brushing her hair away from
her forehead, looked up to him for what further words might
come to him. “Surely not,” he continued, “if I have made up my
mind at last, that nothing shall ever again serve to rob me of
your love, — if I may still hope to possess it.”
“Oh, Frank!” she said, “how mean I am to be a creature obedient to the whistle of such a master as you!”
“But are you obedient?”
“You know that well enough. I have had no Gertrude with
whom I have vacillated, whether for the sake of love or lucre. Whatever you may be, — whether mean or noble, — you
are the only man with whom I can endure to live, for whom
I would endure to die. Of course I had not expected that your
love should be like mine. How should it be so, seeing that you
are a man and that I am but a woman.” Here he attempted to
seat himself by her on the sofa, which she occupied, but she
gently repulsed him, motioning him towards the chair which
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
he had occupied, “Sit there, Frank,” she said, “so that we may
look into each other’s faces and talk seriously. Is it to come to
this then, that I am to ruin you at last?”
“There will be no ruin.”
“But there will, if we are married now. Shall I tell you
the kind of life which would satisfy me?”
“Some little place abroad?” he asked.
“Oh, dear, no! No place to which you would be confined at
all. If I may remain as I am, knowing that you intend to marry
no one else, feeling confident that there is a bond binding us
together even though we should never become man and wife,
I should be, if not happy, at least contented.”
“That is a cold prospect.”
“Cold; — but not ice-cold, as would have been the other.
Cold, but not wretchedly cold, as would be the idea always
present to me that I had reduced you to poverty. Frank, I am so
far selfish that I cannot bear to abandon the idea of your love.
But I am not so far selfish as to wish to possess it at the expense of your comfort. Shall it be so?”
“Be how?” said he, speaking almost in anger.
“Let us remain just as we are. Only you will promise me,
that as I cannot be your wife there shall be no other. I need
hardly promise you that there will be no other husband.” Now
he sat frowning at her, while she, still pressing back her hair
with her hands, looked eagerly into his face. “If this will be
enough for you,” she said, “it shall be enough for me.”
“No, by G — — d!”
“Frank!”
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AYALA’S ANGEL
“It will certainly not be enough for me. I will have nothing to do with so damnable a compact.”
“Damnable!”
“Yes; that is what I call it. That is what any man would call
it, — and any woman, too, who would speak her mind.”
“Then, Sir, perhaps you will be kind enough to make your
proposition. I have made mine, such as it is, and am sorry that
it should not have been received at any rate with courtesy.”
But as she said this there was a gleam of a bright spirit in her
eyes, such as he had not seen since first the name of Gertrude
had been mentioned to her.
“Yes,” said he. “You have made your proposition, and now
it is only fair that I should make mine. Indeed, I made it already
when I suggested that little place abroad. Let it be abroad or at
home, or of what nature it may, — so that you shall be there,
and I with you, it shall be enough for me. That is my proposition; and, if it be not accepted, then I shall return to Miss Tringle and all the glories of Lombard Street.”
“Frank — “ she said. Then, before she could speak another word, he had risen from his seat, and she was in his arms.
“Frank,” she continued, pushing back his kisses, “how impossible it is that I should not be obedient to you in all things!
I know, — I know that I am agreeing to that which will cause
you some day to repent.”
“By heavens, no!” said he. “I am changed in all that.”
“A man cannot change at once. Your heart is soft, but your
nature remains the same. Frank, I could be so happy at this
moment if I could forget the picture which my imagination
points to me of your future life. Your love, and your generous
237
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
words, and the look out of your dear eyes, are sweet to me now,
as when I was a child, whom you first made so proud by telling
her that she owned your heart. If I could only revel in the return of yourD൵HFWLRQV²³
“It is no return,” said he. “There has never been a moment in which my affections have not been the same.”
“Well, then, — in these permitted signs of your affection, — if it were not that I cannot shut out the future! Do
not press me to name any early day, because no period of my
future life will be so happy to me as this.”
“Is there any reason why I should not intrude?” said Mrs.
Docimer, opening the door when the above conversation had
been extended for perhaps another hour.
“Not in the least, as far as I’m concerned,” said Frank.
“A few words have been spoken between us, all of which may
be repeated to you if Imogene can remember them.”
“Every one of them,” said Imogene; “but I hardly think that
I shall repeat them.”
“I suppose they have been very much a matter of course,”
said Mrs. Docimer; — “the old story repeated between you
two for the fourth or fifth time. Considering all things, do you
think that I should congratulate you?”
“I ask for no congratulation,” said Imogene.
“You may certainly congratulate me,” said Frank. After
that the conversation became tame, and the happy lover soon
escaped from the house into the street. When there he found
very much to occupy his mind. He had certainly made his resolution at last, and had done so in a manner which would now
leave him no power of retrogression. The whole theory of his
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AYALA’S ANGEL
life had, — with a vengeance, — been thrown to the winds.
“The little place abroad,” — or elsewhere, — was now a settled
certainty. He had nearly got the better of her. He had all but
succeeded in putting down his own love and hers by a little
gentle ridicule, and by a few half-wise phrases which she at
the moment had been unable to answer; but she now had in
truth vanquished him by the absolute sincerity of her love.
CHAPTER XLII
ANOTHER DUEL
Frank Houston on that Sunday afternoon became an altered man. The reader is not to suppose by this that he is declared to have suddenly thrown off all his weaknesses, and to
have succeeded in clothing himself in an armour of bright
steel, proof for the rest of his life against all temptations. Such
suits of armour are not to be had at a moment’s notice; nor, as
I fear, can a man ever acquire one quite perfect at all points
who has not begun to make it for himself before Houston’s
age. But he did on that day dine off the two mutton chops, and
comforted himself with no more than the half-pint of sherry.
It was a great beginning. Throughout the whole evening he
could not be got for a moment to join any of the club juntas
which were discussing the great difficulty of the contumacious
gentleman. “I think he must really be going to be married at
last!” one club pundit said when a question was asked as to
Houston’s singular behaviour on the occasion.
He was indeed very sober, — so sober that he left the smoking-room as soon as his one silent cigar was finished, and went
out alone in order that he might roam the streets in thoughtful solitude. It was a clear frosty night, and as he buttoned his
great coat around him he felt that the dry cold air would do
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