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AYALA’S ANGEL
the shrine with his face to the ground. His chance with Ayala
could in no circumstances have been great; but she was certainly not one to have yielded to a prostrate worshipper.
“Mother!” said Tom, recalling Lady Tringle as she was leaving the room.
“What is it, my dear? I must really go now or I shall be too
late for the train.”
“Mother, tell her, tell her, — tell her that I love her.”
His mother ran back, kissed his brow, and then left the room.
Lady Tringle spent that evening in Queen’s Gate, where Sir
Thomas remained with her. The hours passed heavily, as they
had not much present to their mind with which to console
each other. Sir Thomas had no belief whatever in the journey
except in so far as it might help to induce his son to proceed
upon his travels; — but his wife had been so far softened by
poor Tom’s sorrows as to hope a little, in spite of her judgment,
that Ayala might yet relent. Her heart was soft towards her
son, so that she felt that the girl would deserve all manner of
punishment unless she would at last yield to Tom’s wishes.
She was all but sure that it could not be so, and yet, in spite of
her convictions, she hoped.
On the next morning the train took her safely to the Stalham Road Station, and as she approached the end of her
journey her heart became heavier within her. She felt that she
could not but fail to give any excuse to the Alburys for such
a journey, — unless, indeed, Ayala should do as she would
have her. At the station she found the Albury carriage, with
the Albury coachman, and the Albury footman, and the Albury liveries, waiting for her. It was a closed carriage, and for
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
a moment she thought that Ayala might be there. In that case
she could have performed her commission in the carriage, and
then have returned to London without going to the house at
all. But Ayala was not there. Lady Tringle was driven up to
the house, and then taken through the hall into a small sitting-room, where for a moment she was alone. Then the door
opened, and Ayala, radiant with beauty, in all the prettiness of
her best morning costume, was in a moment in her arms.
She seemed in her brightness to be different from that Ayala
who had been known before at Glenbogie and in Rome. “Dear
aunt,” said Ayala, “I am so delighted to see you at Stalham!”
CHAPTER LV
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED
A KNIGHT
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The
“I don’t think” which she repeated so often was, of course, of
no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury
would be disgusted, were she to go, — and so she remained.
There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come,
and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some
short time afterwards, — so that there might be yet a few days
left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have
been doubtful to her after she had read that letter, — with
the postscript, — that if she remained her happiness would be
insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her
being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And
yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told
Lady Albury, — because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. “Of course
he wishes it,” said Lady Albury. “He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done
a thing so much as Sir Harry.” Ayala, delighted as she was, did
not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
uneasy, — so that her friend did not know what to make of it,
or which way to take it. Ayala’s secret was to herself a secret
still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to
her of his love. If he did, — why then all the world might know.
Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss
her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady
Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must
be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed, — that would be death to her!
And thus it went on through the whole week, Lady Albury
not quite knowing what to make of it. Once she did say a word,
thinking that she would thus extract the truth, not as yet understanding how potent Ayala could be to keep her secret.
“That man has, at any rate, been very true to you,” she said.
Ayala frowned, and shook her head, and would not say a word
upon the subject. “If she did not mean to take him now, surely
she would have gone,” Lady Albury said to her husband.
“She is a pretty little girl enough,” said Sir Harry, “but
I doubt whether she is worth all the trouble.”
“Of course she is not. What pretty little girl ever was? But
as long as he thinks her worth it the trouble has to be taken.”
“Of course she’ll accept him?”
“I am not at all so sure of it. She has been made to believe
that you wanted her to stay, and therefore she has stayed.
She is quite master enough of herself to ride out hunting with
him again and then to refuse him.” And so Lady Albury doubted up to the Sunday, and all through the Sunday, — up to
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AYALA’S ANGEL
the very moment when the last preparations were to be made
for the man’s arrival.
The train reached the Stalham Road Station at 7 ඉආ, and
the distance was five miles. On Sundays they usually dined at
Stalham at 7.30. The hour fixed was to be 8 on this occasion, — and even with this there would be some bustling. The
house was now nearly empty, there being no visitors there except Mr. and Mrs. Gosling and Ayala. Lady Albury gave many
thoughts to the manner of the man’s reception, and determined at last that Jonathan should have an opportunity of saying a word to Ayala immediately on his arrival if he so pleased.
“Mind you are down at half-past seven,” she said to Ayala,
coming to her in her bedroom.
“I thought we should not dine till eight.”
“There is no knowing. Sir Harry is so fussy. I shall be down,
and I should like you to be with me.” Then Ayala promised.
“And mind you have his frock on.”
“You’ll make me wear it out before any one else sees it,” she
said, laughing. But again she promised. She got a glimmer of
light from it all, nearly understanding what Lady Albury intended. But against such intentions as these she had no reason to fight. Why should she not be ready to see him? Why
should she not have on her prettiest dress when he came? If he
meant to say the word, — then her prettiest dress would all be
too poor, and her readiest ears not quick enough to meet so
great a joy. If he were not to say the other word, — then should
she shun him by staying behind, or be afraid of the encounter?
Should she be less gaily attired because it would be unnecessary to please his eye?
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Oh, no! “I’ll be there at half-past seven,” she said. “But
I know the train will be late, and Sir Harry won’t get his dinner till nine.”
“Then, my dear, great as the Colonel is, he may come in and
get what is left for him in the middle. Sir Harry will not wait
a minute after eight.”
The buxom woman came and dressed her. The buxom
woman probably knew what was going to happen; — was perhaps more keenly alive to the truth than Lady Albury herself.
“We have taken great care of it, haven’t we, Miss?” she said, as
she fastened the dress behind. “It’s just as new still.”
“New!” said Ayala. “It has got to be new with me for the next
two years.”
“I don’t know much about that, Miss. Somebody will
have to pay for a good many more new dresses before two years
are over, I take it.” To this Ayala made no answer, but she was
quite sure that the buxom woman intended to imply that Colonel Stubbs would have to pay for the new dresses.
Punctually at half-past seven she was in the drawing-room,
and there she remained alone for a few minutes. She endeavoured to sit down and be quiet, but she found it impossible to
compose herself. Almost immediately he would be there, and
then, — as she was quite sure, — her fate would be known to
her instantly. She knew that the first moment of his presence in the room with her would tell her everything. If that
were told to her which she desired to hear, everything should
be re-told to him as quickly. But, if it were otherwise, then
she thought that when the moment came she would still have
strength enough to hide her sorrow. If he had come simply
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AYALA’S ANGEL
for the hunting, — simply that they two might ride a-hunting
together so that he might show to her that all traces of his
disappointment were gone, — then she would know how to
teach him to think that her heart towards him was as it had
ever been. The thing to be done would be so sad as to call
from her tears almost of blood in her solitude; but it should
be so done that no one should know that any sorrow such
as this had touched her bosom. Not even to Lucy should this
secret be told.
There was a clock on the mantelpiece to which her eye was
continually turned. It now wanted twenty minutes to eight,
and she was aware that if the train was punctual he might
now be at the hall-door. At this moment Lady Albury entered
the room. “Your knight has come at last,” she said; “I hear his
wheels on the gravel.”
“He is no knight of mine,” said Ayala, with that peculiar
frown of hers.
“Whose ever knight he is, there he is. Knight or not, I must
go and welcome him.” Then Lady Albury hurried out of
the room and Ayala was again alone. The door had been
left partly open, so that she could hear the sound of voices
and steps across the inner hall or billiard-room. There were
the servants waiting upon him, and Sir Harry bidding him to
go up and dress at once so as not to keep the whole house
waiting, and Lady Albury declaring that there was yet ample
time as the dinner certainly would not be on the table for
half-an-hour. She heard it all, and heard him to whom all her
thoughts were now given laughing as he declared that he had
never been so cold in his life, and that he certainly would not
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
dress himself till he had warmed his fingers. She was far away
from the door, not having stirred from the spot on which she
was standing when Lady Albury left her; but she fancied that
she heard the murmur of some slight whisper, and she told
herself that Lady Albury was telling him where to seek her.
Then she heard the sound of the man’s step across the billiardroom, she heard his hand upon the door, and there he was in
her presence!
When she thought of it all afterwards, as she did so many
scores of times, she never could tell how it had occurred. When
she accused him in her playfulness, telling him that he had
taken for granted that of which he had had no sign, she never
knew whether there had been aught of truth in her accusation.
But she did know that he had hardly closed the door behind
him when she was in his arms, and felt the burning love of
his kisses upon her cheeks. There had been no more asking
whether he was to have any other answer. Of that she was
quite sure. Had there been such further question she would
have answered him, and some remembrance of her own words
would have remained with her. She was quite sure that she
had answered no question. Some memory of mingled granting
and denying, of repulses and assents all quickly huddled upon
one another, of attempts to escape while she was so happy to
remain, and then of a deluge of love terms which fell upon her
ears, — “his own one, his wife, his darling, his Ayala, at last his
own sweet Ayala,” — this was what remained to her of that little interview. She had not spoken a word. She thought she was
sure of that. Her breath had left her, — so that she could not
speak. And yet it had been taken for granted, — though on for-
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AYALA’S ANGEL
mer occasions he had pleaded with slow piteous words! How
had it been that he had come to know the truth so suddenly?
Then she became aware that Lady Albury was speaking to Mrs.
Gosling in the billiard-room outside, detaining her other guest
till the scene within should be over. At that moment she did
speak a word which she remembered afterwards. “Go; — go;
you must go now.” Then there had been one other soft repulse,
one other sweet assent, and the man had gone. There was just
a moment for her, in which to tell herself that the Angel of
Light had come for her, and had taken her to himself.
Mrs. Gosling, who was a pretty little woman, crept softly
into the room, hiding her suspicion if she had any. Lady Albury
put out her hand to Ayala behind the other woman’s back, not
raising it high, but just so that her young friend might touch it
if she pleased. Ayala did touch it, sliding her little fingers into
the offered grasp. “I thought it would be so,” whispered Lady
Albury. “I thought it would be so.”
“What the deuce are you all up to,” said Sir Harry, bursting into the room. “It’s eight now, and that man has only just
gone up to his room.”
“He hasn’t been in the house above five minutes yet,”
said Lady Albury, “and I think he has been very quick.” Ayala
thought so too.
During dinner and afterwards they were very full of hunting for the next day. It was wonderful to Ayala that there
should be thought for such a trifle when there was such
a thing as love in the world. While there was so much to fill
her heart, how could there be thoughts of anything else? But
Jonathan, — he was Jonathan to her now, her Jonathan, her
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Angel of Light, — was very keen upon the subject. There was
but one week left. He thought that Croppy might manage
three days as there was to be but one week. Croppy would
have leisure and rest enough afterwards. “It’s a little sharp,”
said Sir Harry.
“Oh, pray don’t,” said Ayala.
But Lady Albury and Jonathan together silenced Sir Harry, and Mrs. Gosling proved the absurdity of the objection by
telling the story of a pony who had carried a lady three days
running. “I should not have liked to be either the pony, or
the owner, or the lady,” said Sir Harry. But he was silenced.
What did it matter though the heavens fell, so that Ayala
was pleased? What is too much to be done for a girl who
proves herself to be an angel by accepting the right man at
the right time?
She had but one moment alone with her lover that night.
“I always loved you,” she whispered to him as she fled away.
The Colonel did not quite understand the assertion, but he
was contented with it as he sat smoking his cigar with Sir Harry and Mr. Gosling.
But, though she could have but one word that night with
her lover, there were many words between her and Lady Albury before they went to bed. “And so, like wise people, you
have settled it all between you at last,” said Lady Albury.
“I don’t know whether he is wise.”
“We will take that for granted. At any rate he has been
very true.”
“Oh, yes.”
“And you, — you knew all about it.”
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