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AYALA’S ANGEL
the papers, Francis Houston and Imogene Docimer,” said Mrs.
Traffick.
“So she has really caught him at last!” said Gertrude.
“There was not much to catch,” rejoined Mrs. Traffick.
“I doubt whether they have got £500 a year between them.”
“It does seem so very sudden,” said Lady Tringle.
“Sudden!” said Gertrude. “They have been about it for
the last five years. Of course he has tried to wriggle out of it
all through. I am glad that she has succeeded at last, if only
because he deserves it.”
“I wonder where they’ll find a place to live in,” said Augusta. This took place in the bedroom which Mrs. Traffick still
occupied in Queen’s Gate, when she had been just a month
a mother.
Thus, with the kind assistance of Aunt Rosina, Frank
Houston and Imogene Docimer were married at last, and
the chronicler hereby expresses a hope that it may not be
long before Frank may see a picture of his own hanging on
the walls of the Academy, and that he may live to be afraid of
the coming of no baby.
CHAPTER LXI
TOM TRINGLE GOES UPON HIS
TRAVELS
We must again go back and pick up our threads to April,
having rushed forward to be present at the wedding of Frank
Houston and Imogene Docimer, which did not take place till
near Midsummer. This we must do at once in regard to Tom
Tringle, who, if the matter be looked at aright, should be regarded as the hero of this little history. Ayala indeed, who is
no doubt the real heroine among so many young ladies who
have been more or less heroic, did not find in him the angel of
whom she had dreamed, and whose personal appearance on
earth was necessary to her happiness. But he had been able
very clearly to pick out an angel for himself, and, though he
had failed in his attempts to take the angel home with him, had
been constant in his endeavours as long as there remained to
him a chance of success. He had shown himself to be foolish,
vulgar, and ignorant. He had given way to Bolivian champagne
and Faddle intimacies. He had been silly enough to think that
he could bribe his Ayala with diamonds for herself, and charm
her with cheaper jewelry on his own person. He had thought to
soar high by challenging his rival to a duel, and had then been
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AYALA’S ANGEL
tempted by pot courage to strike him in the streets. A very vulgar and foolish young man! But a young man capable of a persistent passion! Young men not foolish and not vulgar are, perhaps, common enough. But the young men of constant heart
and capable of such persistency as Tom’s are not to be found
every day walking about the streets of the metropolis. Jonathan Stubbs was constant, too; but it may be doubted whether
the Colonel ever really despaired. The merit is to despair and
yet to be constant. When a man has reason to be assured that
a young lady is very fond of him, he may always hope that love
will follow, — unless indeed the love which he seeks has been
already given away elsewhere. Moreover, Stubbs had many substantial supports at his back; the relationship of the Marchesa,
the friendship of Lady Albury, the comforts of Stalham, — and
not least, if last, the capabilities and prowess of Croppy. Then,
too, he was neither vulgar nor foolish nor ignorant. Tom Tringle had everything against him, — everything that would
weigh with Ayala; and yet he fought his battle out to the last
gasp. Therefore, I desire my hearers to regard Tom Tringle as
the hero of the transactions with which they have been concerned, and to throw their old shoes after him as he starts away
upon his grand tour.
“Tom, my boy, you have to go, you know, in four days,” said
his father to him. At this time Tom had as yet given no positive
consent as to his departure. He had sunk into a low state of
moaning and groaning, in which he refused even to accede to
the doctrine of the expediency of a manly bearing. “What’s
the good of telling a lie about it?” he would say to his mother.
“What’s the good of manliness when a fellow would rather be
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
drowned?” He had left his bed indeed, and had once or twice
sauntered out of the house. He had been instigated by his sister to go down to his club, under the idea that by such an effort he would shake off the despondency which overwhelmed
him. But he had failed in the attempts, and had walked by
the doors of the Mountaineers, finding himself unable to face
the hall-porter. But still the preparations for his departure
were going on. It was presumed that he was to leave London for
Liverpool on the Friday, and his father had now visited him in
his own room on the Tuesday evening with the intention of
extorting from him his final consent. Sir Thomas had on that
morning expressed himself very freely to his son-in-law Mr.
Traffick, and on returning home had been glad to find that his
words had been of avail, at any rate as regarded the dinnerhour. He was tender-hearted towards his son, and disposed to
tempt him rather than threaten him into obedience.
“I haven’t ever said I would go,” replied Tom.
“But you must, you know. Everything has been packed
up, and I want to make arrangements with you about money.
I have got a cabin for you to yourself, and Captain Merry says
that you will have a very pleasant passage. The equinoxes are
over.”
“I don’t care about the equinoxes,” said Tom. “I should like
bad weather if I am to go.”
“Perhaps you may have a touch of that, too.”
“If the ship could be dashed against a rock I should prefer
it!” exclaimed Tom.
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AYALA’S ANGEL
“That’s nonsense. The Cunard ships never are dashed
against rocks. By the time you’ve been three days at sea you’ll
be as hungry as a hunter. Now, Tom, how about money?”
“I don’t care about money,” said Tom.
“Don’t you? Then you’re very unlike anybody else that
I meet. I think I had better give you power to draw at New
York, San Francisco, Yokohama, Pekin, and Calcutta.”
“Am I to go to Pekin?” asked Tom, with renewed melancholy.
“Well, yes; — I think so. You had better see what the various houses are doing in China. And then from Calcutta you
can go up the country. By that time I dare say we shall have
possession of Cabul. With such a government as we have now,
thank God! the Russians will have been turned pretty nearly
out of Asia by this time next year.”
1
“Am I to be away more than a year?”
“If I were you,” said the father, glad to catch the glimmer of
assent which was hereby implied, — “if I were you I would do
it thoroughly whilst I was about it. Had I seen so much when
I was young I should have been a better man of business.”
“It’s all the same to me,” said Tom. “Say ten years, if you like
it! Say twenty! I shan’t ever want to come back again. Where am
I to go after Cabul?”
“I didn’t exactly fix it that you should go to Cabul. Of course
you will write home and give me your own opinion as you travel
on. You will stay two or three months probably in the States.”
“Am I to go to Niagara?” he asked.
1
It has to be stated that this story was written in 1878.
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
“Of course you will, if you wish it. The Falls of Niagara,
I am told, are very wonderful.”
“If a man is to drown himself,” said Tom, “it’s the sort of
place to do it effectually.”
“Oh, Tom!” exclaimed his father. “Do you speak to me in
that way when I am doing everything in my power to help
you in your trouble?”
“You cannot help me,” said Tom.
“Circumstances will. Time will do it. Employment will do
it. A sense of your dignity as a man will do it, when you find
yourself amongst others who know nothing of what you have
suffered. You revel in your grief now because those around
you know that you have failed. All that will be changed when
you are with strangers. You should not talk to your father of
drowning yourself!”
“That was wrong. I know it was wrong,” said Tom, humbly.
“I won’t do it if I can help it, — but perhaps I had better not
go there. And how long ought I to stay at Yokohama? Perhaps
you had better put it all down on a bit of paper.” Then Sir
Thomas endeavoured to explain to him that all that he said
now was in the way of advice. That it would be in truth left to
himself to go almost where he liked, and to stay at each place
almost as long as he liked; — that he would be his own master,
and that within some broad and undefined limits he would
have as much money as he pleased to spend. Surely no preparations for a young man’s tour were ever made with more alluring circumstances! But Tom could not be tempted into any
expression of satisfaction.
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AYALA’S ANGEL
This, however, Sir Thomas did gain, — that before he left
his son’s room it was definitely settled, — that Tom should take
his departure on the Friday, going down to Liverpool by an afternoon train on that day. “I tell you what,” said Sir Thomas;
“I’ll go down with you, see you on board the ship, and introduce you to Captain Merry. I shall be glad of an opportunity of
paying a visit to Liverpool.” And so the question of Tom’s departure was settled.
On the Wednesday and Thursday he seemed to take some
interest in his bags and portmanteaus, and began himself to
look after those assuagements of the toils of travel which are
generally dear to young men. He interested himself in a fur
coat, in a well-arranged despatch box, and in a very neat
leathern case which was intended to hold two brandy flasks.
He consented to be told of the number of his shirts, and absolutely expressed an opinion that he should want another
pair of dress-boots. When this occurred every female bosom in
the house, from Lady Tringle’s down to the kitchenmaid’s,
rejoiced at the signs of recovery which evinced themselves.
But neither Lady Tringle nor the kitchenmaid, nor did any of
the intermediate female bosoms, know how he employed
himself when he left the house on that Thursday afternoon.
He walked across the Park, and, calling at Kingsbury Crescent,
left a note addressed to his aunt. It was as follows: — “I start
to-morrow afternoon, — I hardly know whither. It may be for
years or it may be for ever. I should wish to say a word to Ayala
before I go. Will she see me if I come at twelve o’clock exactly
to-morrow morning? I will call for an answer in half-an-hour.
T. T., junior. Of course I am aware that Ayala is to become
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
the bride of Colonel Jonathan Stubbs.” In half-an-hour he returned, and got his answer. “Ayala will be glad to have an opportunity of saying good-bye to you to-morrow morning.”
From this it will be seen that Ayala had at that time returned
from Stalham to Kingsbury Crescent. She had come back joyful in heart, thoroughly triumphant as to her angel, with everything in the world sweet and happy before her, — desirous
if possible to work her fingers off in mending the family linen,
if only she could do something for somebody in return for all
the joy that the world was giving her. When she was told that
Tom wished to see her for the last time, — for the last time at
any rate before her marriage, — she assented at once. “I think
you should see him as he asks it,” said her aunt.
“Poor Tom! Of course I will see him.” And so the note
was written which Tom received when he called the second
time at the door.
At half-past eleven he skulked out of the house in Queen’s
Gate, anxious to avoid his mother and sisters, who were on their
side anxious to devote every remaining minute of the time to
his comfort and welfare. I am afraid it must be acknowledged
that he went with all his jewelry. It could do no good. At last he
was aware of that. But still he thought that she would like him
better with his jewelry than without it. Stubbs wore no gems,
not even a ring, and Ayala when she saw her cousin enter
the room could only assure herself that the male angels certainly were never be-jewelled. She was alone in the drawingroom, Mrs. Dosett having arranged that at the expiration of
ten minutes, which were to be allowed to Tom for his private
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AYALA’S ANGEL
adieux, she would come down to say good-bye to her nephew.
“Ayala!” said Tom.
“So you are going away, — for a very long journey, Tom.”
“Yes, Ayala; for a very long journey; to Pekin and Cabul, if
I live through, to get to those sort of places.”
“I hope you will live through, Tom.”
“Thank you, Ayala. Thank you. I daresay I shall. They tell
me I shall get over it. I don’t feel like getting over it now.”
“You’ll find some beautiful young lady at Pekin, perhaps.”
“Beauty will never have any effect upon me again, Ayala.
Beauty indeed! Think what I have suffered from beauty! From
the first moment in which you came down to Glenbogie I have
been a victim to it. It has destroyed me, — destroyed me!”
“I am sure you will come back quite well,” said Ayala, hardly knowing how to answer the last appeal.
“Perhaps I may. If I can only get my heart to turn to stone,
then I shall. I don’t know why I should have been made to care
so much about it. Other people don’t.”
“And now we must say, Good-bye, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes; — good-bye! I did want to say one or two words if
you ain’t in a hurry. Of course you’ll be his bride now.”
“I hope so,” said Ayala.
“I take that for granted. Of course I hate him.”
“Oh, Tom; you shan’t say that.”
“It’s human nature! I can tell a lie if you want it. I’d do
anything for you. But you may tell him this: I’m very sorry
I struck him.”
“He knows that, Tom. He has said so to me.”
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
“He behaved well to me, — very well, — as he always
does to everybody.”
“Now, Tom, that is good of you. I do like you so much for
saying that.”
“But I hate him!”
“No!”
“The evil spirits always hate the good ones. I am conscious of an evil spirit within my bosom. It is because my
spirit is evil that you would not love me. He is good, and you
love him.”
“Yes; I do,” said Ayala.
“And now we will change the conversation. Ayala, I have
got a little present which you must take from me.”
“Oh, no!” said Ayala, thinking of the diamond necklace.
“It’s only a little thing, — and I hope you will.” Then he
brought out from his pocket a small brooch which he had selected from his own stock of jewelry for the occasion. “We are
cousins, you know.”
“Yes, we are cousins,” said Ayala, accepting the brooch, but
still accepting it unwillingly.
“He must be very disdainful if he would object to such a little thing as this,” said Tom, referring to the Colonel.
“He is not at all disdainful. He will not object in the least.
I am sure of that, Tom. I will take it then, and I will wear it
sometimes as a memento that we have parted like friends, — as
cousins should do.”
“Yes, as friends,” said Tom, who thought that even that
word was softer to his ear than cousins. Then he took her by
the hand and looked into her face wistfully, thinking what
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