Ayala's Angel [240]
but then, had no notice been given, the girl would perhaps have been out of the way. As it was a telegram was received back in reply. "I shall be at home. Lady Albury will be very glad to see you at lunch. She says there shall be a room all ready if you will sleep."
"I certainly shall not stay there," Lady Tringle said to Mrs Traffick, "but it is as well to know that they will be civil to me."
"They are stuck-up sort of people I believe," said Augusta; "just like that Marchesa Baldoni, who is one of them. But, as to their being civil, that is a matter of course. They would hardly be uncivil to anyone connected with Lord Boardotrade!"
Then came the Thursday on which the journey was to be commenced. As the moment came near Lady Tringle was very much afraid of the task before her. She was afraid even of her niece Ayala, who had assumed increased proportions in her eyes since she had persistently refused not only Tom but also Colonel Stubbs and Captain Batsby, and then in spite of her own connexion with Lord Boardotrade -- of whom since her daughter's marriage she had learned to think less than she had done before -- she did feel that the Alburys were fashionable people, and that Ayala as their guest had achieved something for herself. Stalham was, no doubt, superior in general estimation to Merle Park, and with her there had been always a certain awe of Ayala which she had not felt in reference to Lucy. Ayala's demand that Augusta should go upstairs and fetch the scrap-book had had its effect -- as had also her success in going up St Peter's and to the Marchesa's dance; and then there would be Lady Albury herself -- and all the Alburys! Only that Tom was very anxious, she would even now have abandoned the undertaking.
"Mother," said Tom, on the last morning, "you will do the best you can for me."
"Oh, yes, my dear."
"I do think that, if you would make her understand the real truth, she might have me yet. She wouldn't like that a fellow should die."
"I am afraid that she is hardhearted, Tom."
"I do not believe it, mother. I have seen her when she wouldn't kill even a fly. It she could only be made to see all the good she could do."
"I am afraid she won't care for that unless she can bring herself really to love you."
"Why shouldn't she love me?"
"Ah, my boy; how am I to tell you? Perhaps if you hadn't loved her so well it might have been different. If you had scorned her -- "
"Scorn her! I couldn't scorn her. I have heard of that kind of thing before, but how is one to help oneself? You can't scorn a friend just because you choose to say so to yourself. When I see her she is something so precious to me that I could not be rough to her to save my life. When she first came it wasn't so. I could laugh at her then. But now -- ! They talk about goddesses, but I am sure she is a goddess to me."
"If you had made no more than a woman of her it might have been better, Tom." All that was too late now. The doctrine which Lady Tringle was enunciating to her son, and which he repudiated, is one that has been often preached and never practised. A man when he is conscious of the presence of a mere woman, to whom he feels that no worship is due, may for his own purpose be able to tell a lie to her, and make her believe that he acknowledges a divinity in her presence. But, when he feels the goddess, he cannot carry himself before her as though she were a mere woman, and, as such, inferior to himself in her attributes. Poor Tom had felt the touch of something divine, and had fallen immediately prostrate before 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
"I certainly shall not stay there," Lady Tringle said to Mrs Traffick, "but it is as well to know that they will be civil to me."
"They are stuck-up sort of people I believe," said Augusta; "just like that Marchesa Baldoni, who is one of them. But, as to their being civil, that is a matter of course. They would hardly be uncivil to anyone connected with Lord Boardotrade!"
Then came the Thursday on which the journey was to be commenced. As the moment came near Lady Tringle was very much afraid of the task before her. She was afraid even of her niece Ayala, who had assumed increased proportions in her eyes since she had persistently refused not only Tom but also Colonel Stubbs and Captain Batsby, and then in spite of her own connexion with Lord Boardotrade -- of whom since her daughter's marriage she had learned to think less than she had done before -- she did feel that the Alburys were fashionable people, and that Ayala as their guest had achieved something for herself. Stalham was, no doubt, superior in general estimation to Merle Park, and with her there had been always a certain awe of Ayala which she had not felt in reference to Lucy. Ayala's demand that Augusta should go upstairs and fetch the scrap-book had had its effect -- as had also her success in going up St Peter's and to the Marchesa's dance; and then there would be Lady Albury herself -- and all the Alburys! Only that Tom was very anxious, she would even now have abandoned the undertaking.
"Mother," said Tom, on the last morning, "you will do the best you can for me."
"Oh, yes, my dear."
"I do think that, if you would make her understand the real truth, she might have me yet. She wouldn't like that a fellow should die."
"I am afraid that she is hardhearted, Tom."
"I do not believe it, mother. I have seen her when she wouldn't kill even a fly. It she could only be made to see all the good she could do."
"I am afraid she won't care for that unless she can bring herself really to love you."
"Why shouldn't she love me?"
"Ah, my boy; how am I to tell you? Perhaps if you hadn't loved her so well it might have been different. If you had scorned her -- "
"Scorn her! I couldn't scorn her. I have heard of that kind of thing before, but how is one to help oneself? You can't scorn a friend just because you choose to say so to yourself. When I see her she is something so precious to me that I could not be rough to her to save my life. When she first came it wasn't so. I could laugh at her then. But now -- ! They talk about goddesses, but I am sure she is a goddess to me."
"If you had made no more than a woman of her it might have been better, Tom." All that was too late now. The doctrine which Lady Tringle was enunciating to her son, and which he repudiated, is one that has been often preached and never practised. A man when he is conscious of the presence of a mere woman, to whom he feels that no worship is due, may for his own purpose be able to tell a lie to her, and make her believe that he acknowledges a divinity in her presence. But, when he feels the goddess, he cannot carry himself before her as though she were a mere woman, and, as such, inferior to himself in her attributes. Poor Tom had felt the touch of something divine, and had fallen immediately prostrate before 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