Ayala's Angel [225]
the 'as how' even to you. I am about as thick-skinned a man in such matters as you may find anywhere, but I do not know that even I can bring myself to tell the 'as how'. The 'as how' was very clear in one respect. It was manifest that she knew her own mind, which is a knowledge not in the possession of all young ladies. She told me that she could not marry me."
"I do not believe it."
"Not that she told me so?"
"Not that she knew her own mind. She is a little simple fool, who with some vagary in her brain is throwing away utterly her own happiness, while she is vexing you."
"As to the vexation you are right."
"Cross-grained little idiot!"
"An idiot she certainly is not; and as to being cross-grained I have never found it. A human being with the grains running more directly all in the same way I have never come across." "Do not talk to me, Jonathan, like that," she said. "When I call her cross-grained I mean that she is running counter to her own happiness."
"I cannot tell anything about that. I should have endeavoured, I think, to make her happy. She has certainly run counter to my happiness."
"And now?"
"What -- as to this very moment! I shall leave Stalham tomorrow." "Why should you do that? Let her go if one must go."
"That is just what I want to prevent. Why should she lose her little pleasure?"
"You don't suppose that we can make the house happy to her now! Why should we care to do so when she will have driven you away?" He sat silent for a minute or two looking at the fire, with his hands on his two knees. "You must acknowledge, Jonathan," continued she, "that I have taken kindly to this Ayala of yours."
"I do acknowledge it."
"But it cannot be that she should be the same to us simply as a young lady, staying here as it were on her own behalf, as she was when we regarded her as your possible wife. Then every little trick and grace belonging to her endeared itself to us because we regarded her as one who was about to become one of ourselves. But what are her tricks and graces to us now?"
"They are all the world to me," said the Colonel.
"But you must wipe them out of your memory -- unless, indeed, you mean to ask her again."
"Ah! -- that is it."
"You will ask her again?"
"I do not say so; but I do not wish to rob myself of the chance. It may be that I shall. Of course I should tomorrow if I thought there was a hope. Tomorrow there would be none -- but I should like to know, that I could find her again in hands so friendly as yours, if at the end of a month I should think myself strong enough to encounter the risk of another refusal. Would Sir Harry allow her to remain here for another month?"
"He would say, probably, nothing about it."
"My plan is this," he continued; "let her remain here, say, for three weeks or a month. Do you continue all your kindness to her -- if not for her sake then for mine. Let her feel that she is made one of yourselves, as you say."
"That will be hard," said Lady Albury.
"It would not be hard if you thought that she was going to become so at last. Try it, for my sake. Say not a word to her about me -- though not shunning my name. Be to her as though I had told you nothing of this. Then when the period is over I will come again -- if I find that I can do so. If my love is still stronger than my sense of self-respect, I shall do so." All this Lady Albury promised to do, and then the interview between them was over.
"Colonel Stubbs is going to Aldershot tomorrow," said she to Ayala in the drawing-room after dinner. "He finds now that he cannot very well remain away." There was no hesitation in her voice as she said this, and no look in her eye which taught Ayala to suppose that she had heard anything of what had occurred in the wood.
"Is he indeed?" said Ayala, trying, but in vain, to be equally undemonstrative.
"It is a great trouble to us, but we are quite unable to prevent it -- unless you indeed can control him."
"I cannot control him," said Ayala, with that fixed look of resolution with
"I do not believe it."
"Not that she told me so?"
"Not that she knew her own mind. She is a little simple fool, who with some vagary in her brain is throwing away utterly her own happiness, while she is vexing you."
"As to the vexation you are right."
"Cross-grained little idiot!"
"An idiot she certainly is not; and as to being cross-grained I have never found it. A human being with the grains running more directly all in the same way I have never come across." "Do not talk to me, Jonathan, like that," she said. "When I call her cross-grained I mean that she is running counter to her own happiness."
"I cannot tell anything about that. I should have endeavoured, I think, to make her happy. She has certainly run counter to my happiness."
"And now?"
"What -- as to this very moment! I shall leave Stalham tomorrow." "Why should you do that? Let her go if one must go."
"That is just what I want to prevent. Why should she lose her little pleasure?"
"You don't suppose that we can make the house happy to her now! Why should we care to do so when she will have driven you away?" He sat silent for a minute or two looking at the fire, with his hands on his two knees. "You must acknowledge, Jonathan," continued she, "that I have taken kindly to this Ayala of yours."
"I do acknowledge it."
"But it cannot be that she should be the same to us simply as a young lady, staying here as it were on her own behalf, as she was when we regarded her as your possible wife. Then every little trick and grace belonging to her endeared itself to us because we regarded her as one who was about to become one of ourselves. But what are her tricks and graces to us now?"
"They are all the world to me," said the Colonel.
"But you must wipe them out of your memory -- unless, indeed, you mean to ask her again."
"Ah! -- that is it."
"You will ask her again?"
"I do not say so; but I do not wish to rob myself of the chance. It may be that I shall. Of course I should tomorrow if I thought there was a hope. Tomorrow there would be none -- but I should like to know, that I could find her again in hands so friendly as yours, if at the end of a month I should think myself strong enough to encounter the risk of another refusal. Would Sir Harry allow her to remain here for another month?"
"He would say, probably, nothing about it."
"My plan is this," he continued; "let her remain here, say, for three weeks or a month. Do you continue all your kindness to her -- if not for her sake then for mine. Let her feel that she is made one of yourselves, as you say."
"That will be hard," said Lady Albury.
"It would not be hard if you thought that she was going to become so at last. Try it, for my sake. Say not a word to her about me -- though not shunning my name. Be to her as though I had told you nothing of this. Then when the period is over I will come again -- if I find that I can do so. If my love is still stronger than my sense of self-respect, I shall do so." All this Lady Albury promised to do, and then the interview between them was over.
"Colonel Stubbs is going to Aldershot tomorrow," said she to Ayala in the drawing-room after dinner. "He finds now that he cannot very well remain away." There was no hesitation in her voice as she said this, and no look in her eye which taught Ayala to suppose that she had heard anything of what had occurred in the wood.
"Is he indeed?" said Ayala, trying, but in vain, to be equally undemonstrative.
"It is a great trouble to us, but we are quite unable to prevent it -- unless you indeed can control him."
"I cannot control him," said Ayala, with that fixed look of resolution with