"Lady Albury wants me to go to Stalham."
"She has written to me to say that she would receive you.""And I may go?"
"I am strongly of opinion that you had better not," said Mrs Dosett, confirming her decree by a nod which might have suited Jupiter.
"Oh, Aunt Margaret, why not?"
"I think it would be most prudent to decline.""But why -- why -- why, Aunt Margaret?"
"There must be expense."
"I have money enough for the journey left of my own from what Uncle Tom gave me," said Ayala, pleading her cause with all her eloquence.
"It is not only the money. There are other reasons -- very strong reasons.""What reasons, Aunt Margaret?"
"My dear, it is your lot to have to live with us, and not with such people as the Marchesa Baldoni and Lady Albury.""I am sure I do not complain."
"But you would complain after having for a time been used to the luxuries of Albury Park. I do not say that as finding fault, Ayala. It is human nature that it should be so.""But I won't complain. Have I ever complained?""Yes, my dear. You told me the other day that you did not like bones of mutton, and you were disgusted because things were greasy.
I do not say this by way of scolding you, Ayala, but only that you may understand what must be the effect of your going from such a house as this to such a house as Stalham, and then returning back from Stalham to such a house as this. You had better be contented with your position.""I am contented with my position," sobbed Ayala.
"And allow me to write to Lady Albury refusing the invitation."But Ayala could not be brought to look at the matter with her aunt's eyes. When her aunt pressed her for an answer which should convey her consent she would give none, and at last left the room bitterly sobbing. Turning the matter over in her own bosom upstairs she determined to be mutinous. No doubt she owed a certain amount of obedience to her aunt; but had she not been obedient, had she not worked hard and lugged about that basket of provisions, and endeavoured to take an interest in all her aunt's concerns?
Was she so absolutely the property of her aunt that she was bound to do everything her aunt desired to the utter annihilation of all her hopes, to the extermination of her promised joys? She felt that she had succeeded in Brook Street. She had met no Angel of Light, but she was associated with people whom she had liked, and had been talked to by those to whom it had been a pleasure to listen. That colonel with the quaint name and the ugly face was still present to her memory as he had leaned over her shoulder at the theatre, making her now laugh by his drollery, and now filling her mind with interest by his description of the scenes which she was seeing. She was sure that all this, or something of the same nature, would be renewed for her delight at Stalham.
And was she to be robbed of this -- the only pleasure which seemed to regain to her in this world -- merely because her aunt chose to entertain severe notions as to duty and pleasure? Other girls went out when they were asked. At Rome, when that question of the dance at the Marchesa's had been discussed, she had had her own way in opposition to her Aunt Emmeline and her cousin Augusta.
No doubt she had, in consequence partly of her conduct on that occasion, been turned out of her Uncle Tom's house; but of that she did not think at the present moment. She would be mutinous, and would appeal to her Uncle Reginald for assistance.
But the letter which contained the real invitation had been addressed to her aunt, and her aunt could in truth answer it as she pleased.
The answer might at this moment be in the act of being written, and should it be averse Ayala knew very well that she could not go in opposition to it. And yet her aunt came to her in the afternoon consulting her again, quite unconquered as to her own opinion, but still evidently unwilling to write the fatal letter without Ayala's permission. Then Ayala assured herself that she had rights of her own, which her aunt did not care to contravene. "I think I ought to be allowed to go," she said, when her aunt came to her during the afternoon.
"When I think it will be bad for you?"
"It won't be bad. They are very good people. I think that I ought to be allowed to go.""Have you no reliance on those who are your natural guardians?""Uncle Reginald is my natural guardian," said Ayala, through her tears.
"Very well! If you refuse to be guided by me as though I were not your aunt, and as you will pay no attention to what I tell you is proper for you and best, the question must be left till your uncle comes home. I cannot but be very much hurt that you should think so little of me. I have always endeavoured to do the best I could for you, just as though I were your mother.""I think that I ought to be allowed to go," repeated Ayala.
As the first consequence of this, the replies to all the three letters were delayed for the next day's post. Ayala had considered much with what pretty words she might best answer Lady Albury's kind note, and she had settled upon a form of words which she had felt to be very pretty. Unless her uncle would support her, that would be of no avail, and another form must be chosen. To Nina she would tell the whole truth, either how full of joy she was -- or else how cruelly used and how thoroughly broken-hearted.
But she could not think that her uncle would be unkind to her.
Her uncle had been uniformly gentle. Her uncle, when he should know how much her heart was set upon it, would surely let her go.
