"THE FINEST HERO THAT I EVER KNEW."
The Colonel and Ayala returned to the house without a word. When they
were passing through the hall she turned to go at once up the stairs
to her own room. As she did so he put out his hand to her, and she
took it. But she passed on without speaking, and when she was alone
she considered it over all in her own mind. There could be no doubt
that she was right. Of that she was quite sure. It was certainly a
fixed law that a girl should not marry a man unless she loved him.
She did not love this man, and therefore she ought not to marry him.
But there were some qualms at her heart as to the possible reality
of the image which she had created for her own idolatry. And she had
been wounded when he told her that she should not allow herself to be
mean amidst her soarings. She had been wounded, and yet she knew that
he had been right. He had intended to teach her the same lesson when
he told her the absurd story of the woman who had been flung out of
the window. She could not love him; but that name of his should never
again be a reason for not doing so. Let the Angel of Light come to
her with his necessary angelic qualities, and no want of euphony in
a sound should be a barrier to him. Nor in truth could any outside
appearance be an attribute of angelic light. The Angel of Light might
be there even with red hair. Something as to the truth of this also
came across her, though the Colonel had not rebuked her on that head.
But how should she carry herself now during the four days which
remained to her at Stalham Park? All the loveliness seemed to depart
from her prospect. She would hardly know how to open her mouth before
her late friend. She suspected that Lady Albury knew with what
purpose the Colonel had taken her out into the shrubbery, and she
would not dare to look Lady Albury in the face. How should she answer
Nina if Nina were to ask her questions about the walk. The hunt
for next Wednesday was no longer a delight to which she could look
forward. How would it be possible that Colonel Stubbs should direct
her now as to her riding, and instruct her as to her conduct in the
hunting-field? It would be better for her that she should return at
once to Kingsbury Crescent.
As she thought of this there did come upon her a reflection that had
she been able to accept Colonel Stubbs's offer there would have been
an end for ever to the miseries of her aunt's house. She would have
been lifted at once into the mode of life in which the man lived.
Instead of being a stranger admitted by special grace into such an
Elysium as that of Stalham Park, she would become one of those to
whom such an Elysium belonged almost of right. By her own gifts she
would have won her way into that upper and brighter life which seemed
to her to be all smiles and all joy. As to his income she thought
nothing and cared nothing. He lived with men who had horses and
carriages, and who spent their time in pleasurable pursuits. And she
would live amidst ladies who were always arrayed in bright garments,
who, too, had horses and carriages at their command, and were never
troubled by those sordid cares which made life at Kingsbury Crescent
so sad and tedious. One little word would have done it all for her,
would have enabled her to take the step by which she would be placed
among the bright ones of the earth.
But the remembrance of all this only made her firmer in her
resolution. If there was any law of right and wrong fixed absolutely
in her bosom, it was this,--that no question of happiness or
unhappiness, of suffering or joy, would affect her duty to the Angel
of Light. She owed herself to him should he come to seek her. She
owed herself to him no less, even should he fail to come. And she
owed herself equally whether he should be rich or poor. As she was
fortifying herself with these assurances, Nina came to ask her
whether she would not come down to tea. Ayala pleaded headache, and
said that she would rest till dinner. "Has anything happened?" asked
Nina. Ayala simply begged that she might be asked no questions then,
because her head was aching. "If you do not tell me everything, I
shall think you are no true friend," said Nina, as she left the room.
As evening drew on she dressed for dinner, and went down into the
drawing-room. In doing so it was necessary to pass through the
billiard-room, and there she found Colonel Stubbs, knocking about the
balls. "Are you dressed for dinner?" he exclaimed; "I haven't begun
to think of it yet, and Sir Harry hates a man when he comes in late.
That wretch Batsby has beaten me four games." With that he rushed
off, putting down the cue with a rattle, and seeming to Ayala to have
recovered altogether from the late prostration of his spirits.
In the drawing-room Ayala was for a few minutes alone, and then, as
she was glad to see, three or four ladies all came in at once, so
that no question could be asked her by Lady Albury. They went into
dinner without the Colonel, who was in truth late, and she was taken
in by Mr. Gosling, whose pretty little wife was just opposite to her.
On the other side of her sat Lord Rufford, who had come to Stalham
with his wife for a day or two, and who immediately began to
congratulate her on the performance of the day before. "I am told
you jumped the Cranbury Brook," he said. "I should as soon think of
jumping the Serpentine."
"I did it because somebody told me."
"Ah," said Lord Rufford, with a sigh, "there is nothing like
ignorance, innocence, and youth combined. But why didn't Colonel
Stubbs get over after you?"
"Because Colonel Stubbs couldn't," said that gentleman, as he took
his seat in the vacant chair.
"It may be possible," said Sir Harry, "that a gentleman should not be
able to jump over Cranbury Brook; but any gentleman, if he will take
a little trouble, may come down in time for dinner."
"Now that I have been duly snubbed right and left," said the Colonel,
"perhaps I may eat my soup."
Ayala, who had expected she hardly knew what further troubles, and
who had almost feared that nobody would speak to her because she had
misbehaved herself, endeavoured to take heart of grace when she found
that all around her, including the Colonel himself, were as pleasant
as ever. She had fancied that Lady Albury had looked at her specially
when Colonel Stubbs took his seat, and she had specially noticed the
fact that his chair had not been next her own. These little matters
she was aware Lady Albury managed herself, and was aware also that in
accordance with the due rotation of things she and the Colonel should
have been placed together. She was glad that it was not so, but at
the same time she was confident that Lady Albury knew something of
what had passed between herself and her suitor. The evening, however,
went off easily, and nothing occurred to disturb her except that
the Colonel had called her by her Christian name, when as usual he
brought to her a cup of tea in the drawing-room. Oh, that he would
continue to do so, and yet not demand from her more than their old
friendship!
The next morning was Sunday, and they all went to church. It was a
law at Stalham that everyone should go to church on Sunday morning.
Sir Harry himself, who was not supposed to be a peculiarly religious
man, was always angry when any male guest did not show himself in the
enormous family pew. "I call it d---- indecent," he has been heard
to say. But nobody was expected to go twice,--and consequently
nobody ever did go twice. Lunch was protracted later than usual. The
men would roam about the grounds with cigars in their mouths, and
ladies would take to reading in their own rooms, in following which
occupation they would spend a considerable part of the afternoon
asleep. On this afternoon Lady Albury did not go to sleep, but
contrived to get Ayala alone upstairs into her little sitting-room.
"Ayala," she said, with something between a smile and a frown, "I am
afraid I am going to be angry with you."
"Please don't be angry, Lady Albury."
"If I am right in what I surmise, you had an offer made to you
yesterday which ought to satisfy the heart of almost any girl in
England." Here she paused, but Ayala had not a word to say for
herself. "If it was so, the best man I know asked you to share his
fortune with him."
"Has he told you?"
"But he did?"
"I shall not tell," said Ayala, proudly.
"I know he did. I knew that it was his intention before. Are you
aware what kind of man is my cousin, Jonathan Stubbs? Has it occurred
to you that in truth and gallantry, in honour, honesty, courage, and
real tenderness, he is so perfect as to be quite unlike to the crowd
of men you see?"
"I do know that he is good," said Ayala.
"Good! Where will you find any one good like him? Compare him to the
other men around him, and then say whether he is good! Can it be
possible that you should refuse the love of such a man as that?"
"I don't think I ought to be made to talk about it," said Ayala,
hesitating.
"My dear, it is for your own sake and for his. When you go away from
here it may be so difficult for him to see you again."
"I don't suppose he will ever want," said Ayala.
"It is sufficient that he wants it now. What better can you expect
for yourself?"
"I expect nothing," said Ayala, proudly. "I have got nothing, and I
expect nothing."
"He will give you everything, simply because he loves you. My dear,
I should not take the trouble to tell you all this, did I not know
that he is a man who ought to be accepted when he asks such a request
as that. Your happiness would be safe in his hands." She paused, but
Ayala had not a word to say. "And he is not a man likely to renew
such a request. He is too proud for that. I can conceive no possible
reason for such a refusal unless it be that you are engaged. If there
be some one else, then of course there must be an end of it."
"There is no one else."
"Then, my dear, with your prospects it is sheer folly. When the
General dies he will have over two thousand a year."
"As if that had anything to do with it!" said Ayala, holding herself
aloft in her wrath, and throwing angry glances at the lady.
"It is what I call romance," said Lady Albury. "Romance can never
make you happy."
"At any rate it is not riches. What you call romance may be what I
like best. At any rate if I do not love Colonel Stubbs I am sure I
ought not to marry him;--and I won't."
After this there was nothing further to be said. Ayala thought that
she would be turned out of the room,--almost out of the house, in
disgrace. But Lady Albury, who was simply playing her part, was
not in the least angry. "Well, my dear," she said, "pray,--pray,
think better of it. I am in earnest, of course, because of my
cousin,--because he seems to have put his heart upon it. He is just
the man to be absolutely in love when he is in love. But I would
not speak as I do unless I were sure that he would make you happy.
My cousin Jonathan is to me the finest hero that I know. When a
man is a hero he shouldn't be broken-hearted for want of a woman's
smiles,--should he?"
"She ought not to smile unless she loves him," said Ayala, as she
left the room.
The Monday and Tuesday went very quietly. Lady Albury said nothing
more on the great subject, and the Colonel behaved himself exactly
as though there had been no word of love at all. There was nothing
special said about the Wednesday's hunt through the two days, till
Ayala almost thought that there would be no hunt for her. Nor,
indeed, did she much wish for it. It had been the Colonel who had
instigated her to deeds of daring, and under his sanction that she
had ventured to ride. She would hardly know how to go through the
Wednesday,--whether still to trust him, or whether to hold herself
aloof from him. When nothing was said on the subject till late on
the evening of the Tuesday, she had almost resolved that she would
not put on her habit when the morning came. But just as she was about
to leave the drawing-room with her bed-candle Colonel Stubbs came to
her. "Most of us ride to the meet to-morrow," he said; "but you and
Nina shall be taken in the waggonette so as to save you a little.
It is all arranged." She bowed and thanked him, going to bed almost
sorry that it should have been so settled. When the morning came Nina
could not ride. She had hurt her foot, and, coming early into Ayala's
room, declared with tears that she could not go. "Then neither shall
I," said Ayala, who was at that moment preparing to put on her habit.
"But you must. It is all settled, and Sir Harry would be offended if
you did not go. What has Jonathan done that you should refuse to ride
with him because I am lame?"
"Nothing," said Ayala.
"Oh, Ayala, do tell me. I should tell you everything. Of course you
must hunt whatever it is. Even though he should have offered and you
refused him, of course you must go."
"Must I?" said Ayala.
"Then you have refused him?"
"I have. Oh, Nina, pray do not speak of it. Do not think of it if you
can help it. Why should everything be disturbed because I have been a
fool?"
"Then you think you have been a fool?"
"Other people think so; but if so I shall at any rate be constant to
my folly. What I mean is, that it has been done, and should be passed
over as done with. I am quite sure that I ought not to be scolded;
but Lady Albury did scold me." Then they went down together to
breakfast, Ayala having prepared herself properly for the
hunting-field.
In the waggonette there were with her Lady Albury, Mrs. Gosling, and
Nina, who was not prevented by her lameness from going to the meet.
The gentlemen all rode, so that there was no immediate difficulty
as to Colonel Stubbs. But when she had been put on her horse by
his assistance and found herself compelled to ride away from the
carriage, apparently under his especial guidance, her heart misgave
her, and she thoroughly wished that she was at home in the Crescent.
Though she was specially under his guidance there were at first
others close around her, and, while they were on the road going to
the covert which they were to draw, conversation was kept up so that
it was not necessary for her to speak;--but what should she do when
she should find herself alone with him as would certainly soon be the
case? It soon was the case. The hounds were at work in a large wood
in which she was told they might possibly pass the best part of the
day, and it was not long before the men had dispersed themselves,
some on this side some on that, and she found herself with no one
near her but the Colonel. "Ayala," he said, "of course you know that
it is my duty to look after you, and to do it better if I can than I
did on Friday."
"I understand," she said.
"Do not let any remembrance of that walk on Saturday interfere with
your happiness to-day. Who knows when you may be out hunting again?"
"Never!" she said; "I don't suppose I shall ever hunt again."
"Carpe diem," he said, laughing. "Do you know what 'carpe diem'
means?"
"It is Latin perhaps."
"Yes; and therefore you are not supposed to understand it. This is
what it means. As an hour for joy has come, do not let any trouble
interfere with it. Let it all be, for this day at least, as though
there had been no walk in the Stalham Woods. There is Larry
Twentyman. If I break down as I did on Friday you may always trust to
him. Larry and you are old friends now."
"Carpe diem," she said to herself. "Oh, yes; if it were only
possible. How is one to 'carpe diem' with one's heart full of
troubles?" And it was the less possible because this man whom she
had rejected was so anxious to do everything for her happiness. Lady
Albury had told her that he was a hero,--that he was perfect in
honour, honesty, and gallantry; and she felt inclined to own that
Lady Albury was almost right. Yet,--yet how far was he from that
image of manly perfection which her daily thoughts had created for
her! Could she have found an appropriate word with which to thank
him she would have done so; but there was no such word, and Larry
Twentyman was now with them, taking off his hat and overflowing with
compliments. "Oh, Miss Dormer, I am so delighted to see you out
again."
"How is the baby, Mr. Twentyman?"
"Brisk as a bee, and hungry as a hunter."
"And how is Mrs. Twentyman?"
"Brisker and hungrier than the baby. What do you think of the day,
Colonel?"
"A very good sort of day, Twentyman, if we were anywhere out of these
big woods." Larry shook his head solemnly. The Mudcombe Woods in
which they were now at work had been known to occupy Tony Tappett
and his whole pack from eleven o'clock till the dusk of evening.
"We've got to draw them, of course," continued the Colonel. Then Mr.
Twentyman discoursed at some length on the excellence of Mudcombe
Woods. What would any county be without a nursery for young foxes?
Gorse-coverts, hedge-rows, and little spinneys would be of no avail
unless there were some grandly wild domain in which maternal and
paternal foxes could roam in comparative security. All this was just
as Ayala would have it, because it enabled her to ask questions, and
saved her from subjects which might be painful to her.
The day, in truth, was not propitious to hunting even. Foxes were
found in plenty, and two of them were killed within the recesses of
the wood; but on no occasion did they run a mile into the open. For
Ayala it was very well, because she was galloping hither and thither,
and because before the day was over she found herself able to talk to
the Colonel in her wonted manner; but there was no great glory for
her as had been the glory of Little Cranbury Brook.
On the next morning she was taken back to London and handed over
to her aunt in Kingsbury Crescent without another word having been
spoken by Colonel Stubbs in reference to his love.