THE LOUT.
"Aunt Emmeline, I want you to read this letter." So it was that Ayala
commenced the interview. At this moment Ayala was not on much better
terms with her aunt than she was with her cousin Augusta. Ayala was
a trouble to her,--Lady Tringle,--who was altogether perplexed with
the feeling that she had burdened herself with an inmate in her house
who was distasteful to her and of whom she could not rid herself.
Ayala had turned out on her hands something altogether different
from the girl she had intended to cherish and patronise. Ayala
was independent; superior rather than inferior to her own girls;
more thought of by others; apparently without any touch of that
subservience which should have been produced in her by her position.
Ayala seemed to demand as much as though she were a daughter of the
house, and at the same time to carry herself as though she were more
gifted than the daughters of the house. She was less obedient even
than a daughter. All this Aunt Emmeline could not endure with a
placid bosom. She was herself kind of heart. She acknowledged her
duty to her dead sister. She wished to protect and foster the orphan.
She did not even yet wish to punish Ayala by utter desertion. She
would protect her in opposition to Augusta's more declared malignity;
but she did wish to be rid of Ayala, if she only knew how.
She took her son's letter and read it, and as a matter of course
misunderstood the position. At Glenbogie something had been whispered
to her about Tom and Ayala, but she had not believed much in it.
Ayala was a child, and Tom was to her not much more than a boy. But
now here was a genuine love-letter,--a letter in which her son had
made a distinct proposition to marry the orphan. She did not stop to
consider why Ayala had brought the letter to her, but entertained at
once an idea that the two young people were going to vex her very
soul by a lamentable love affair. How imprudent she had been to let
the two young people be together in Rome, seeing that the matter had
been whispered to her at Glenbogie! "How long has this been going
on?" she asked, severely.
"He used to tease me at Glenbogie, and now he is doing it again,"
said Ayala.
"There must certainly be put an end to it. You must go away."
Ayala knew at once that her aunt was angry with her, and was
indignant at the injustice. "Of course there must be put an end to
it, Aunt Emmeline. He has no right to annoy me when I tell him not."
"I suppose you have encouraged him."
This was too cruel to be borne! Encouraged him! Ayala's anger was
caused not so much by a feeling that her aunt had misappreciated the
cause of her coming as that it should have been thought possible that
she should have "encouraged" such a lover. It was the outrage to her
taste rather than to her conduct which afflicted her. "He is a lout,"
she said; "a stupid lout!" thus casting her scorn upon the mother as
well as on the son, and, indeed, upon the whole family. "I have not
encouraged him. It is untrue."
"Ayala, you are very impertinent."
"And you are very unjust. Because I want to put a stop to it I come
to you, and you tell me that I encourage him. You are worse than
Augusta."
This was too much for the good nature even of Aunt Emmeline. Whatever
may have been the truth as to the love affair, however innocent Ayala
may have been in that matter, or however guilty Tom, such words
from a niece to her aunt,--from a dependent to her superior,--were
unpardonable. The extreme youthfulness of the girl, a peculiar look
of childhood which she still had with her, made the feeling so much
the stronger. "You are worse than Augusta!"
And this was said to her who was specially conscious of her
endeavours to mitigate Augusta's just anger. She bridled up, and
tried to look big and knit her brows. At that moment she could not
think what must be the end of it, but she felt that Ayala must be
crushed. "How dare you speak to me like that, 'Miss'?" she said.
"So you are. It is very cruel. Tom will go on saying all this
nonsense to me, and when I come to you you say I encourage him! I
never encouraged him. I despise him too much. I did not think my own
aunt could have told me that I encouraged any man. No, I didn't. You
drive me to it, so that I have got to be impertinent."
"You had better go to your room," said the aunt. Then Ayala, lifting
her head as high as she knew how, walked towards the door. "You had
better leave that letter with me." Ayala considered the matter for
a moment, and then handed the letter a second time to her aunt. It
could be nothing to her who saw the letter. She did not want it.
Having thus given it up she stalked off in silent disdain and went to
her chamber.
Aunt Emmeline, when she was left alone, felt herself to be enveloped
in a cloud of doubt. The desirableness of Tom as a husband first
forced itself upon her attention, and the undesirableness of Ayala as
a wife for Tom. She was perplexed at her own folly in not having seen
that danger of this kind would arise when she first proposed to take
Ayala into the house. Aunts and uncles do not like the marriage of
cousins, and the parents of rich children do not, as a rule, approve
of marriages with those which are poor. Although Ayala had been so
violent, Lady Tringle could not rid herself of the idea that her
darling boy was going to throw himself away. Then her cheeks became
red with anger as she remembered that her Tom had been called a
lout,--a stupid lout. There was an ingratitude in the use of such
language which was not alleviated even by the remembrance that it
tended against that matrimonial danger of which she was so much
afraid. Ayala was behaving very badly. She ought not to have coaxed
Tom to be her lover, and she certainly ought not to have called Tom a
lout. And then Ayala had told her aunt that she was unjust and worse
than Augusta! It was out of the question that such a state of things
should be endured. Ayala must be made to go away.
Before the day was over Lady Tringle spoke to her son, and was
astonished to find that the "lout" was quite in earnest,--so much
in earnest that he declared his purpose of marrying his cousin in
opposition to his father and mother, in opposition even to Ayala
herself. He was so much in earnest that he would not be roused to
wrath even when he was told that Ayala had called him a lout. And
then grew upon the mother a feeling that the young man had never been
so little loutish before. For there had been, even in her maternal
bosom, a feeling that Tom was open to the criticism expressed on him.
Tom had been a hobble-de-hoy, one of those overgrown lads who come
late to their manhood, and who are regarded by young ladies as louts.
Though he had spent his money only too freely when away, his sisters
had sometimes said that he could not say "bo to a goose" at home. But
now,--now Tom was quite an altered young man. When his own letter was
shown to him he simply said that he meant to stick to it. When it was
represented to him that his cousin would be quite an unfit wife for
him he assured his mother that his own opinion on that matter was
very different. When his father's anger was threatened he declared
that his father would have no right to be angry with him if he
married a lady. At the word "lout" he simply smiled. "She'll come to
think different from that before she's done with me," he said, with a
smile. Even the mother could not but perceive that the young man had
been much improved by his love.
But what was she to do? Two or three days went on, during which there
was no reconciliation between her and Ayala. Between Augusta and
Ayala no word was spoken. Messages were taken to her by Gertrude,
the object of which was to induce her to ask her aunt's pardon. But
Ayala was of opinion that her aunt ought to ask her pardon, and could
not be beaten from it. "Why did she say that I encouraged him?" she
demanded indignantly of Gertrude. "I don't think she did encourage
him," said Gertrude to her mother. This might possibly be true, but
not the less had she misbehaved. And though she might not yet have
encouraged her lover it was only too probable that she might do so
when she found that her lover was quite in earnest.
Lady Tringle was much harassed. And then there came an additional
trouble. Gertrude informed her mother that she had engaged herself
to Mr. Francis Houston, and that Mr. Houston was going to write to
her father with the object of proposing himself as a son-in-law. Mr.
Houston came also to herself, and told her, in the most natural tone
in the world, that he intended to marry her daughter. She had not
known what to say. It was Sir Thomas who managed all matters of
money. She had an idea that Mr. Houston was very poor. But then so
also had been Mr. Traffick, who had been received into the family
with open arms. But then Mr. Traffick had a career, whereas Mr.
Houston was lamentably idle. She could only refer Mr. Houston to Sir
Thomas, and beg him not to come among them any more till Sir Thomas
had decided. Upon this Gertrude also got angry, and shut herself up
in her room. The apartments Ruperti were, therefore, upon the whole,
an uncomfortable home to them.
Letters upon letters were written to Sir Thomas, and letters upon
letters came. The first letter had been about Ayala. He had been
much more tender towards Ayala than her aunt had been. He talked
of calf-love, and said that Tom was a fool; but he had not at once
thought it necessary to give imperative orders for Tom's return. As
to Ayala's impudence, he evidently regarded it as nothing. It was not
till Aunt Emmeline had spoken out in her third letter that he seemed
to recognise the possibility of getting rid of Ayala altogether. And
this he did in answer to a suggestion which had been made to him. "If
she likes to change with her sister Lucy, and you like it, I shall
not object," said Sir Thomas. Then there came an order to Tom that
he should return to Lombard Street at once; but this order had been
rendered abortive by the sudden return of the whole family. Sir
Thomas, in his first letter as to Gertrude, had declared that the
Houston marriage would not do at all. Then, when he was told that
Gertrude and Mr. Houston had certainly met each other more than once
since an order had been given for their separation, he desired the
whole family to come back at once to Merle Park.
The proposition as to Lucy had arisen in this wise. Tom being in the
same house with Ayala, of course had her very much at advantage, and
would carry on his suit in spite of any abuse which she might lavish
upon him. It was quite in vain that she called him lout. "You'll
think very different from that some of these days, Ayala," he said,
more seriously.
"No, I shan't; I shall think always the same."
"When you know how much I love you, you'll change."
"I don't want you to love me," she said; "and if you were anything
that is good you wouldn't go on after I have told you so often. It is
not manly of you. You have brought me to all manner of trouble. It is
your fault, but they make me suffer."
After that Ayala again went to her aunt, and on this occasion the
family misfortune was discussed in more seemly language. Ayala was
still indignant, but she said nothing insolent. Aunt Emmeline was
still averse to her niece, but she abstained from crimination. They
knew each as enemies, but recognised the wisdom of keeping the peace.
"As for that, Aunt Emmeline," Ayala said, "you may be quite sure that
I shall never encourage him. I shall never like him well enough."
"Very well. Then we need say no more about that, my dear. Of course,
it must be unpleasant to us all, being in the same house together."
"It is very unpleasant to me, when he will go on bothering me like
that. It makes me wish that I were anywhere else."
Then Aunt Emmeline began to think about it very seriously. It was
very unpleasant. Ayala had made herself disagreeable to all the
ladies of the family, and only too agreeable to the young gentleman.
Nor did the manifest favour of Sir Thomas do much towards raising
Ayala in Lady Tringle's estimation. Sir Thomas had only laughed when
Augusta had been requested to go upstairs for the scrap-book. Sir
Thomas had been profuse with his presents even when Ayala had been
most persistent in her misbehaviour. And then all that affair of the
Marchesa, and even Mr. Traffick's infatuation! If Ayala wished that
she were somewhere else would it not be well to indulge her wish!
Aunt Emmeline certainly wished it. "If you think so, perhaps some
arrangement can be made," said Aunt Emmeline, very slowly.
"What arrangement?"
"You must not suppose that I wish to turn you out?"
"But what arrangement?"
"You see, Ayala, that unfortunately we have not all of us hit it off
nicely; have we?"
"Not at all, Aunt Emmeline. Augusta is always angry with me. And
you,--you think that I have encouraged Tom."
"I am saying nothing about that, Ayala."
"But what arrangement is it, Aunt Emmeline?" The matter was one of
fearful import to Ayala. She was prudent enough to understand that
well. The arrangement must be one by which she would be banished from
all the wealth of the Tringles. Her coming among them had not been a
success. She had already made them tired of her by her petulance and
independence. Young as she was she could see that, and comprehend the
material injury she had done herself by her folly. She had been very
wrong in telling Augusta to go upstairs. She had been wrong in the
triumph of her exclusive visits to the Marchesa. She had been wrong
in walking away with Mr. Traffick on the Pincian. She could see that.
She had not been wrong in regard to Tom,--except in calling him a
lout; but whether wrong or right she had been most unfortunate. But
the thing had been done, and she must go.
At this moment the wealth of the Tringles seemed to be more to her
than it had ever been before,--and her own poverty and destitution
seemed to be more absolute. When the word "arrangement" was whispered
to her there came upon her a clear idea of all that which she was
to lose. She was to be banished from Merle Park, from Queen's Gate,
and from Glenbogie. For her there were to be no more carriages, and
horses, and pretty trinkets;--none of that abandon of the luxury
of money among which the Tringles lived. But she had done it for
herself, and she would not say a word in opposition to the fate which
was before her. "What arrangement, aunt?" she said again, in a voice
which was intended to welcome any arrangement that might be made.
Then her aunt spoke very softly. "Of course, dear Ayala, we do not
wish to do less than we at first intended. But as you are not happy
here--" Then she paused, almost ashamed of herself.
"I am not happy here," said Ayala, boldly.
"How would it be if you were to change,--with Lucy?"
The idea which had been present to Lady Tringle for some weeks past
had never struck Ayala. The moment she heard it she felt that she
was more than ever bound to assent. If the home from which she was
to be banished was good, then would that good fall upon Lucy. Lucy
would have the carriages and the horses and the trinkets, Lucy, who
certainly was not happy at Kingsbury Crescent. "I should be very
glad, indeed," said Ayala.
Her voice was so brave and decided that, in itself, it gave fresh
offence to her aunt. Was there to be no regret after so much
generosity? But she misunderstood the girl altogether. As the words
were coming from her lips,--"I should be very glad, indeed,"--Ayala's
heart was sinking with tenderness as she remembered how much after
all had been done for her. But as they wished her to go there should
be not a word, not a sign of unwillingness on her part.
"Then perhaps it can be arranged," said Lady Tringle.
"I don't know what Uncle Dosett may say. Perhaps they are very fond
of Lucy now."
"They wouldn't wish to stand in her way, I should think."
"At any rate, I won't. If you, and my uncles, and Aunt Margaret, will
consent, I will go whenever you choose. Of course I must do just as
I'm told."
Aunt Emmeline made a faint demur to this; but still the matter was
held to be arranged. Letters were written to Sir Thomas, and letters
came, and at last even Sir Thomas had assented. He suggested, in
the first place, that all the facts which would follow the exchange
should be explained to Ayala; but he was obliged after a while to
acknowledge that this would be inexpedient. The girl was willing; and
knew no doubt that she was to give up the great wealth of her present
home. But she had proved herself to be an unfit participator, and it
was better that she should go.
Then the departure of them all from Rome was hurried on by the
indiscretion of Gertrude. Gertrude declared that she had a right to
her lover. As to his having no income, what matter for that. Everyone
knew that Septimus Traffick had no income. Papa had income enough for
them all. Mr. Houston was a gentleman. Till this moment no one had
known of how strong a will of her own Gertrude was possessed. When
Gertrude declared that she would not consent to be separated from Mr.
Houston then they were all hurried home.