Ayala's Angel [95]
had no right to rob Ayala of her chances, and he felt that he had not the right. By the time that he reached Kingsbury Crescent he had, with many misgivings, decided in favour of Stalham.
It was now some weeks since the first invitation had been refused, and during those weeks life had not been pleasant at the Crescent. Ayala moped and pined as though some great misfortune had fallen upon her. When she had first come to the Crescent she had borne herself bravely, as a man bears a trouble when he is conscious that he has brought it on himself by his own act, and is proud of the act which has done it. But when that excitement has gone, and the trouble still remains, the pride wears off, and the man is simply alive to his suffering. So it had been with Ayala. Then had come the visit to Brook Street. When, soon after that, she was invited to Stalham, it seemed as though a new world was being opened to her. There came a moment when she could again rejoice that she had quarrelled with her Aunt Emmeline. This new world would be a much better world than the Tringle world. Then had come the great blow, and it had seemed to her as though there was nothing but Kingsbury Crescent before her for the rest of her wretched life.
There was not a detail of all this hidden from the eyes of Aunt Margaret. Stalham had decided that Aunt Margaret was ugly and uninteresting. Stalham, according to its own views, was right. Nevertheless the lady in Kingsbury Crescent had both eyes to see and a heart to feel. She was hot of temper, but she was forgiving. She liked her own way, but she was affectionate. She considered it right to teach her niece the unsavoury mysteries of economy, but she was aware that such mysteries must be distasteful to one brought up as Ayala. Even when she had been loudest in denouncing Ayala's mutiny, her heart had melted in ruth because Ayala had been so unhappy. She, too, had questioned herself again and again as to the justness of her decision. Was she entitled to rob Ayala of her chances? In her frequent discussions with her husband she still persisted in declaring that Kingsbury Crescent was safe, and that Stalham would be dangerous. But, nevertheless, in her own bosom she had misgivings. As she saw the poor girl mope and weary through one day after another, she could not but have misgivings.
"I have had that Lady Albury with me at the office today, and have almost promised that Ayala shall go to her on the 8th of November." It was thus that Mr Dosett rushed at once into his difficulty as soon as he found himself upstairs with his wife. "You have?"
"Well, my dear, I almost did. She said a great deal, and I could not but agree with much of it. Ayala ought to have her chances." "What chances?" demanded Mrs Dosett, who did not at all like the expression.
"Well; seeing people. She never sees anybody here."
"Nobody is better than some people," said Mrs Dosett, meaning to be severe on Lady Albury's probable guests.
"But if a girl sees nobody," said Mr Dosett, "she can have no -- no -- no chances."
"She has the chance of wholesome victuals," said Mrs Dosett, "and I don't know what other chances you or I can give her." "She might see -- a young man." This Mr Dosett said very timidly. "A young fiddlestick! A young man! Young men should be waited for till they come naturally, and never thought about if they don't come at all. I hate this looking after young men. If there wasn't a young man for the next dozen years we should do better -- so as just to get out of the way of thinking about them for a time." This was Mrs Dosett's philosophy; but in spite of her philosophy she did yield, and on that night it was decided that Ayala after all was to be allowed to go to Stalham.
To Mr Dosett was deputed the agreeable task of telling Ayala on the next evening what was to befall her. If anything agreeable was to be done in that sombre house it was always deputed to the master.
"What!" said Ayala, jumping from her chair.
"On the eighth of November," said Mr Dosett.
"To Stalham?"
"Lady Albury
It was now some weeks since the first invitation had been refused, and during those weeks life had not been pleasant at the Crescent. Ayala moped and pined as though some great misfortune had fallen upon her. When she had first come to the Crescent she had borne herself bravely, as a man bears a trouble when he is conscious that he has brought it on himself by his own act, and is proud of the act which has done it. But when that excitement has gone, and the trouble still remains, the pride wears off, and the man is simply alive to his suffering. So it had been with Ayala. Then had come the visit to Brook Street. When, soon after that, she was invited to Stalham, it seemed as though a new world was being opened to her. There came a moment when she could again rejoice that she had quarrelled with her Aunt Emmeline. This new world would be a much better world than the Tringle world. Then had come the great blow, and it had seemed to her as though there was nothing but Kingsbury Crescent before her for the rest of her wretched life.
There was not a detail of all this hidden from the eyes of Aunt Margaret. Stalham had decided that Aunt Margaret was ugly and uninteresting. Stalham, according to its own views, was right. Nevertheless the lady in Kingsbury Crescent had both eyes to see and a heart to feel. She was hot of temper, but she was forgiving. She liked her own way, but she was affectionate. She considered it right to teach her niece the unsavoury mysteries of economy, but she was aware that such mysteries must be distasteful to one brought up as Ayala. Even when she had been loudest in denouncing Ayala's mutiny, her heart had melted in ruth because Ayala had been so unhappy. She, too, had questioned herself again and again as to the justness of her decision. Was she entitled to rob Ayala of her chances? In her frequent discussions with her husband she still persisted in declaring that Kingsbury Crescent was safe, and that Stalham would be dangerous. But, nevertheless, in her own bosom she had misgivings. As she saw the poor girl mope and weary through one day after another, she could not but have misgivings.
"I have had that Lady Albury with me at the office today, and have almost promised that Ayala shall go to her on the 8th of November." It was thus that Mr Dosett rushed at once into his difficulty as soon as he found himself upstairs with his wife. "You have?"
"Well, my dear, I almost did. She said a great deal, and I could not but agree with much of it. Ayala ought to have her chances." "What chances?" demanded Mrs Dosett, who did not at all like the expression.
"Well; seeing people. She never sees anybody here."
"Nobody is better than some people," said Mrs Dosett, meaning to be severe on Lady Albury's probable guests.
"But if a girl sees nobody," said Mr Dosett, "she can have no -- no -- no chances."
"She has the chance of wholesome victuals," said Mrs Dosett, "and I don't know what other chances you or I can give her." "She might see -- a young man." This Mr Dosett said very timidly. "A young fiddlestick! A young man! Young men should be waited for till they come naturally, and never thought about if they don't come at all. I hate this looking after young men. If there wasn't a young man for the next dozen years we should do better -- so as just to get out of the way of thinking about them for a time." This was Mrs Dosett's philosophy; but in spite of her philosophy she did yield, and on that night it was decided that Ayala after all was to be allowed to go to Stalham.
To Mr Dosett was deputed the agreeable task of telling Ayala on the next evening what was to befall her. If anything agreeable was to be done in that sombre house it was always deputed to the master.
"What!" said Ayala, jumping from her chair.
"On the eighth of November," said Mr Dosett.
"To Stalham?"
"Lady Albury