THE EXCHANGE.
Such was the state of things when Mr. Dosett brought the three
letters home with him to Kingsbury Crescent, having been so much
disturbed by the contents of the two which were addressed to himself
as to have found himself compelled to leave his office two hours
before the proper time. The three letters were handed together by her
uncle to Lucy, and she, seeing the importance of the occasion, read
the two open ones before she broke the envelope of her own. That from
Sir Thomas came first, and was as follows;--
Lombard Street, January, 187--.
MY DEAR DOSETT,
I have had a correspondence with the ladies at Rome which
has been painful in its nature, but which I had better
perhaps communicate to you at once. Ayala has not got on
as well with Lady Tringle and the girls as might have been
wished, and they all think it will be better that she and
Lucy should change places. I chiefly write to give my
assent. Your sister will no doubt write to you. I may as
well mention to you, should you consent to take charge of
Ayala, that I have made some provision for her in my will,
and that I shall not change it. I have to add on my own
account that I have no complaint of my own to make against
Ayala.
Yours sincerely,
T. TRINGLE.
Lucy, when she had read this, proceeded at once to the letter from
her aunt. The matter to her was one of terrible importance, but the
importance was quite as great to Ayala. She had been allowed to go
up alone into her own room. The letters were of such a nature that
she could hardly have read them calmly in the presence of her Aunt
Dosett. It was thus that her Aunt Emmeline had written;--
Palazzo Ruperti, Rome, Thursday.
MY DEAR REGINALD,
I am sure you will be sorry to hear that we are in great
trouble here. This has become so bad that we are obliged
to apply to you to help us. Now you must understand that
I do not mean to say a word against dear Ayala;--only she
does not suit. It will occur sometimes that people who
are most attached to each other do not suit. So it has
been with dear Ayala. She is not happy with us. She has
not perhaps accommodated herself to her cousins quite as
carefully as she might have done. She is fully as sensible
of this as I am, and is, herself, persuaded that there had
better be a change.
Now, my dear Reginald, I am quite aware that when poor
Egbert died it was I who chose Ayala, and that you took
Lucy partly in compliance with my wishes. Now I write to
suggest that there should be a change. I am sure you will
give me credit for a desire to do the best I can for both
the poor dear girls. I did think that this might be best
done by letting Ayala come to us. I now think that Lucy
would do better with her cousins, and that Ayala would be
more attractive without the young people around her.
When I see you I will tell you everything. There has been
no great fault. She has spoken a word or two to me which
had been better unsaid, but I am well convinced that it
has come from hot temper and not from a bad heart. Perhaps
I had better tell you the truth. Tom has admired her. She
has behaved very well; but she could not bear to be spoken
to, and so there have been unpleasantnesses. And the girls
certainly have not got on well together. Sir Thomas quite
agrees with me that if you will consent there had better
be a change.
I will not write to dear Lucy herself because you and
Margaret can explain it all so much better,--if you will
consent to our plan. Ayala also will write to her sister.
But pray tell her from me that I will love her very dearly
if she will come to me. And indeed I have loved Ayala
almost as though she were my own, only we have not been
quite able to hit it off together.
Of course neither has Sir Thomas or have I any idea of
escaping from a responsibility. I should be quite unhappy
if I did not have one of poor dear Egbert's girls with me.
Only I do think that Lucy would be the best for us; and
Ayala thinks so too. I should be quite unhappy if I were
doing this in opposition to Ayala.
We shall be in England almost as soon as this letter, and
I should be so glad if this could be decided at once. If
a thing like this is to be done it is so much better for
all parties that it should be done quickly. Pray give my
best love to Margaret, and tell her that Ayala shall bring
everything with her that she wants.
Your most affectionate sister,
EMMELINE TRINGLE.
The letter, though it was much longer than her uncle's, going into
details, such as that of Tom's unfortunate passion for his cousin,
had less effect upon Lucy, as it did not speak with so much authority
as that from Sir Thomas. What Sir Thomas said would surely be done;
whereas Aunt Emmeline was only a woman, and her letter, unsupported,
might not have carried conviction. But, if Sir Thomas wished it,
surely it must be done. Then, at last, came Ayala's letter;--
Rome, Thursday.
DEAREST, DEAREST LUCY,
Oh, I have such things to write to you! Aunt Emmeline has
told it all to Uncle Reginald. You are to come and be the
princess, and I am to go and be the milkmaid at home. I am
quite content that it should be so because I know that it
will be the best. You ought to be a princess and I ought
to be a milkmaid.
It has been coming almost ever since the first day that I
came among them,--since I told Augusta to go upstairs for
the scrap-book. I felt from the very moment in which the
words were uttered that I had gone and done for myself.
But I am not a bit sorry, as you will come in my place.
Augusta will very soon be gone now, and Aunt Emmeline
is not bad at all if you will only not contradict her.
I always contradicted her, and I know that I have been a
fool. But I am not a bit sorry, as you are to come instead
of me.
But it is not only about Augusta and Aunt Emmeline. There
has been that oaf Tom. Poor Tom! I do believe that he is
the most good-natured fellow alive. And if he had not so
many chains I should not dislike him so very much. But he
will go on saying horrible things to me. And then he wrote
me a letter! Oh dear! I took the letter to Aunt Emmeline,
and that made the quarrel. She said that I had--encouraged
him! Oh, Lucy, if you will think of that! I was so angry
that I said ever so much to her,--till she sent me out of
the room. She had no business to say that I encouraged
him. It was shameful! But she has never forgiven me,
because I scolded her. So they have decided among them
that I am to be sent away, and that you are to come in my
place.
My own darling Lucy, it will be ever so much better. I
know that you are not happy in Kingsbury Crescent, and
that I shall bear it very much better. I can sit still and
mend sheets.
Poor Ayala, how little she knew herself!
And you will make a beautiful grand lady, quiescent and
dignified as a grand lady ought to be. At any rate it
would be impossible that I should remain here. Tom is bad
enough, but to be told that I encourage him is more than I
can bear.
I shall see you very soon, but I cannot help writing and
telling it to you all. Give my love to Aunt Dosett. If she
will consent to receive me I will endeavour to be good to
her. In the meantime good-bye.
Your most affectionate sister,
AYALA.
When Lucy had completed the reading of the letters she sat for a
considerable time wrapped in thought. There was, in truth, very much
that required thinking. It was proposed that the whole tenour of
her life should be changed, and changed in a direction which would
certainly suit her taste. She had acknowledged to herself that she
had hated the comparative poverty of her Uncle Dosett's life, hating
herself in that she was compelled to make such acknowledgment. But
there had been more than the poverty which had been distasteful to
her,--a something which she had been able to tell herself that she
might be justified in hating without shame. There had been to her an
absence of intellectual charm in the habits and manners of Kingsbury
Crescent which she had regarded as unfortunate and depressing. There
had been no thought of art delights. No one read poetry. No one heard
music. No one looked at pictures. A sheet to be darned was the one
thing of greatest importance. The due development of a leg of mutton,
the stretching of a pound of butter, the best way of repressing the
washerwoman's bills,--these had been the matters of interest. And
they had not been made the less irritating to her by her aunt's
extreme goodness in the matter. The leg of mutton was to be developed
in the absence of her uncle,--if possible without his knowledge. He
was to have his run of clean linen. Lucy did not grudge him anything,
but was sickened by that partnership in economy which was established
between her and her aunt. Undoubtedly from time to time she had
thought of the luxuries which had been thrown in Ayala's way. There
had been a regret,--not that Ayala should have them but that she
should have missed them. Money she declared that she despised;--but
the easy luxury of the bijou was sweet to her memory.
Now it was suggested to her suddenly that she was to exchange the
poverty for the luxury, and to return to a mode of life in which
her mind might be devoted to things of beauty. The very scenery of
Glenbogie,--what a charm it would have for her! Judging from her
uncle's manner, as well as she could during that moment in which he
handed to her the letter, she imagined that he intended to make no
great objection. Her aunt disliked her. She was sure that her aunt
disliked her in spite of the partnership. Only that there was one
other view of the case--how happy might the transfer be. Her uncle
was always gentle to her, but there could hardly as yet have grown up
any strong affection for her. To him she was grateful, but she could
not tell herself that to part from him would be a pang. There was,
however, another view of the case.
Ayala! How would it be with Ayala! Would Ayala like the partnership
and the economies? Would Ayala be cheerful as she sat opposite to
her aunt for four hours at a time! Ayala had said that she could sit
still and mend sheets, but was it not manifest enough that Ayala knew
nothing of the life of which she was speaking. And would she, Lucy,
be able to enjoy the glories of Glenbogie while she thought that
Ayala was eating out her heart in the sad companionship of Kingsbury
Crescent? For above an hour she sat and thought; but of one aspect
which the affair bore she did not think. She did not reflect that she
and Ayala were in the hands of Fate, and that they must both do as
their elders should require of them.
At last there came a knock at the door, and her aunt entered. She
would sooner that it should have been her uncle: but there was no
choice but that the matter should be now discussed with the woman
whom she did not love,--this matter that was so dreadful to herself
in all its bearings, and so dreadful to one for whom she would
willingly sacrifice herself if it were possible! She did not know
what she could say to create sympathy with Aunt Dosett. "Lucy," said
Aunt Dosett, "this is a very serious proposal."
"Very serious," said Lucy, sternly.
"I have not read the letters, but your uncle has told me about it."
Then Lucy handed her the two letters, keeping that from Ayala to
herself, and she sat perfectly still while her aunt read them both
slowly. "Your Aunt Emmeline is certainly in earnest," said Mrs.
Dosett.
"Aunt Emmeline is very good-natured, and perhaps she will change her
mind if we tell her that we wish it."
"But Sir Thomas has agreed to it."
"I am sure my uncle will give way if Aunt Emmeline will ask him.
He says he has no complaint to make against Ayala. I think it is
Augusta, and Augusta will be married, and will go away very soon."
Then there came a change, a visible change, over the countenance of
Aunt Dosett, and a softening of the voice,--so that she looked and
spoke as Lucy had not seen or heard her before. There are people
apparently so hard, so ungenial, so unsympathetic, that they who only
half know them expect no trait of tenderness, think that features
so little alluring cannot be compatible with softness. Lucy had
acknowledged her Aunt Dosett to be good, but believed her to be
incapable of being touched. But a word or two had now conquered
her. The girl did not want to leave her,--did not seize the first
opportunity of running from her poverty to the splendour of the
Tringles! "But, Lucy," she said, and came and placed herself nearer
to Lucy on the bed.
"Ayala--," said Lucy, sobbing.
"I will be kind to her,--perhaps kinder than I have been to you."
"You have been kind, and I have been ungrateful. I know it. But I
will do better now, Aunt Dosett. I will stay, if you will have me."
"They are rich and powerful, and you will have to do as they direct."
"No! Who are they that I should be made to come and go at their
bidding? They cannot make me leave you."
"But they can rid themselves of Ayala. You see what your uncle says
about money for Ayala."
"I hate money."
"Money is a thing which none of us can afford to hate. Do you think
it will not be much to your Uncle Reginald to know that you are both
provided for? Already he is wretched because there will be nothing to
come to you. If you go to your Aunt Emmeline, Sir Thomas will do for
you as he has done for Ayala. Dear Lucy, it is not that I want to
send you away." Then for the first time Lucy put her arm round her
aunt's neck. "But it had better be as is proposed, if your aunt still
wishes it, when she comes home. I and your Uncle Reginald would not
do right were we to allow you to throw away the prospects that are
offered you. It is natural that Lady Tringle should be anxious about
her son."
"She need not, in the least," said Lucy, indignantly.
"But you see what they say."
"It is his fault, not hers. Why should she be punished?"
"Because he is Fortune's favourite, and she is not. It is no good
kicking against the pricks, my dear. He is his father's son and heir,
and everything must give way to him."
"But Ayala does not want him. Ayala despises him. It is too hard that
she is to lose everything because a young man like that will go on
making himself disagreeable. They have no right to do it after having
accustomed Ayala to such a home. Don't you feel that, Aunt Dosett?"
"I do feel it."
"However it might have been arranged at first, it ought to remain
now. Even though Ayala and I are only girls, we ought not to be
changed about as though we were horses. If she had done anything
wrong,--but Uncle Tom says that she has done nothing wrong."
"I suppose she has spoken to her aunt disrespectfully."
"Because her aunt told her that she had encouraged this man. What
would you have a girl say when she is falsely accused like that?
Would you say it to me merely because some horrid man would come and
speak to me?" Then there came a slight pang of conscience as she
remembered Isadore Hamel in Kensington Gardens. If the men were not
thought to be horrid, then perhaps the speaking might be a sin worthy
of most severe accusation.
There was nothing more said about it that night, nor till the
following afternoon, when Mr. Dosett returned home at the usual
hour from his office. Then Lucy was closeted with him for a
quarter-of-an-hour in the drawing-room. He had been into the City and
seen Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas had been of opinion that it would be much
better that Lady Tringle's wishes should be obeyed. It was quite true
that he himself had no complaint to make against Ayala, but he did
think that Ayala had been pert; and, though it might be true that
Ayala had not encouraged Tom, there was no knowing what might grow
out of such a propensity on Tom's part. And then it could not be
pleasant to Lady Tringle or to himself that their son should be
banished out of their house. When something was hinted as to the
injustice of this, Sir Thomas endeavoured to put all that right by
declaring that, if Lady Tringle's wishes could be attended to in
this matter, provision would be made for the two girls. He certainly
would not strike Ayala's name out of his will, and as certainly would
not take Lucy under his wing as his own child without making some
provision for her. Looking at the matter in this light he did not
think that Mr. Dosett would be justified in robbing Lucy of the
advantages which were offered to her. With this view Mr. Dosett found
himself compelled to agree, and with these arguments he declared to
Lucy that it was her duty to submit herself to the proposed exchange.
Early in February all the Tringle family were in Queen's Gate, and
Lucy on her first visit to the house found that everyone, including
Ayala, looked upon the thing as settled. Ayala, who under these
circumstances was living on affectionate terms with all the Tringles,
except Tom, was quite radiant. "I suppose I had better go to-morrow,
aunt?" she said, as though it were a matter of most trivial
consequence.
"In a day or two, Ayala, it will be better."
"It shall be Monday, then. You must come over here in a cab, Lucy."
"The carriage shall be sent, my dear."
"But then it must go back with me, Aunt Emmeline."
"It shall, my dear."
"And the horses must be put up, because Lucy and I must change all
our things in the drawers." Lucy at the time was sitting in the
drawing-room, and Augusta, with most affectionate confidence, was
singing to her all the praises of Mr. Traffick. In this way it was
settled, and the change, so greatly affecting the fortunes of our two
sisters, was arranged.