Story :- Ayala's Angel

CHAPTER 1 THE TWO SISTERS
When Egbert Dormer died he left his two daughters utterly penniless
upon the world, and it must be said of Egbert Dormer that nothing else
could have been expected of him. The two girls were both pretty, but
Lucy, who was twenty-one, was supposed to be simple and comparatively
unattractive, whereas Ayala was credited -- as her somewhat romantic
name might show -- withpoetic charm and a taste for romance. Ayala
whenher father died was nineteen. We must beginyet a little earlier
and saythat there had been -- and had died many yearsbefore the death
of Egbert Dormer -- a clerk in the Admiralty, by name Reginald Dosett,
who, and whose wife, had been conspicuous for personal beauty. Their
charms were gone,but the records of them had been left in various
grandchildren. There had been a son born to Mr Dosett, who was also a
Reginald and a clerk in the Admiralty, and who also, in his turn, had
been a handsome man. With him, in his decadence, the reader will
become acquainted. There were also two daughters, whose reputation for
perfect feminine beauty had never been contested. The elder had
married a city man of wealth -- of wealth when he marriedher, but who
had become enormously wealthy by the time of our story. He had when he
married been simply Mister, but was now Sir Thomas Tringle,
Baronet,and was senior partner in the great firm of Travers and
Treason. Of Traverses and Treasons there were none left in these days,
and Mr Tringle was supposed to manipulate all the millions with which
the great firm in Lombard Street was concerned. Hehad married old Mr
Dosett's eldest daughter, Emmeline, who was nowLady Tringle, with a
house at the top of Queen's Gate, rented at L#1,500 a year, with a
palatial moor in Scotland, with a seat in Sussex, and as many
carriages and horses as would suit an archduchess. Lady Tringle had
everything in the world; a son, two daughters, and an open-handed
stout husband, who was said to have told her that money was a matter
of no consideration.
The second Miss Dosett, Adelaide Dosett, who had been considerably
younger than her sister, had insisted upon givingherself to Egbert
Dormer the artist, whose death we commemorated in our first line. But
she haddied before her husband. They who remembered the two Miss
Dosetts as girls werewont to declare that, though Lady Tringle might,
perhaps, have had the advantage in perfection of feature and in
unequalled symmetry, Adelaide had been the more attractivefrom
expression and brilliancy. To her Lord Sizes had offered his hand and
coronet, promising to abandon for her sake all the haunts of his
matured life. To her Mr Tringle had knelt before he had taken the
elder sister. For her Mr Progrum, the popular preacher of the day, for
a time so totally lost himself that he was nearly minded to go over to
Rome. She was said to have had offers from a widowed Lord Chancellor
and from a Russian prince. Her triumphs would have quite obliterated
that of her sister had she not insisted on marrying Egbert Dormer.
Then there had been, and still was, Reginald Dosett, the son of old
Dosett, and the eldest of the family. He too had married, and was now
living with his wife; but to them had no children been born, luckily,
as he was a poor man. Alas, to a beautiful son it is not often that
beauty can be a fortune as to a daughter. Young Reginald Dosett -- he
is anything now but young-- had done but little for himself with his
beauty, having simply married the estimable daughter of a brother
clerk. Now, at the age of fifty, he had his L#900 a year from his
office, and might have lived in fair comfort had he not allowed a
small millstoneof debt to hang round his neck from his earlier years.
But still he lived creditably in a small but very genteel house at
Notting Hill, and would have undergone any want rather than have
declared himself to be a poor man to his rich relations the Tringles.
Such were now the remaining two children of old Mr Dosett -- Lady
Tringle, namely, and Reginald Dosett, the clerk in the Admiralty.
Adelaide, the beauty in chief of the family, was gone; and now also
her husband, the improvident artist, had followed his wife. Dormer had
been by no means a failing artist. He had achieved great honour -- had
at an earlyage been accepted into the Royal Academy -- hadsold
pictures to illustrious princes and more illustrious dealers, had been
engraved and had lived to see his own works resold at five times their
original prices. Egbert Dormer might also have been a rich man. But he
had a taste for other beautiful things besides a wife. The sweetest
little phaeton that was to cost nothing, the most perfect bijou of a
little house at South Kensington -- he had boasted that it might have
been packed without trouble in his brother-in-law Tringle's
dining-room -- the simplest little gem for hiswife, just a blue set of
china for his dinner table, just a painted cornice for his studio,
just satin hangings for his drawing-room -- and a few simple ornaments
for his little girls; these with a few rings for himself, and velvet
suits of clothing in which to do his painting; these, with a few
little dinner parties to show off his blue china, were the firstand
last of his extravagances. But whenhe went, and when his pretty things
were sold, there was not enough tocover his debts. There was, however,
a sweet savour about his name. When he died it was saidof him that his
wife's death had killed him. He had dropped his palette, refused to
finish the ordered portrait of a princess, and had simply turned
himself round and died.
Then there were the twodaughters, Lucy and Ayala. It should be
explained that though a proper family intercourse had always been
maintained between the three families, the Tringles, theDormers, and
the Dosetts, there had never been cordiality between the first and the
two latter. The wealth of the Tringles had seemed to convey with it a
fetid odour. Egbert Dormer, with every luxury around him which money
could purchase, had affected to despise the heavy magnificence of the
Tringles. It may be that he affected a fashion higher than that which
the Tringles really attained. Reginald Dosett, who was neither
brilliant nor fashionable,was in truth independent, and, perhaps, a
little thin-skinned. He would submit to no touch of arrogance from Sir
Thomas; and Sir Thomas seemed to carry arrogance in his brow and in
his paunch. It wasthere rather, perhaps, than in his heart; but there
are men to whom a knack of fumbling their money in their pockets and
of looking out from under penthouse brows over an expanse of
waistcoat, gives an air of overweening pride which their true
idiosyncracies may not justify. To Dosett had, perhaps, been spoken a
word or two which on some occasion he had inwardly resented, and from
thenceforward he had ever been ready to league with Dormer against the
"bullionaire",as they agreed to call Sir Thomas. Lady Tringle had even
said a word to her sister, Mrs Dormer, asto expenses, and that had
never been forgivenby the artist. So things were when Mrs Dormer died
first; and so they remained when her husband followed her.
Then there arose a sudden necessity for action, which, for a while,
brought Reginald Dosett into connexion with Sir Thomas and Lady
Tringle. Something must be done for the poor girls. That the something
should come out of the pocket of Sir Thomas would have seemed to be
natural. Money with him was no object -- not at all. Another girl or
two would be nothing to him-- as regarded simple expenditure. But the
care of a human being is an important matter, and so Sir Thomas knew.
Dosett had not a child at all, and would be the better for such a
windfall. Dosett he supposed to be -- in his, Dosett's way -- fairly
welloff. So he made this proposition. He would take one girl and let
Dosett take the other. To this Lady Tringle added her proviso, that
she should have the choice. To her nerves affairs of taste were of
such paramount importance! To this Dosett yielded. The matter was
decided in Lady Tringle's back drawing-room. Mrs Dosett was not even
consulted in that matter of choice, having alreadyacknowledged the
duty of mothering a motherless child. Dosett had thought that the
bullionaire should have said a word as to some future provision for
the penniless girl, for whom he would be able to do so little. But Sir
Thomas had said no such word, and Dosett, himself, lacked both the
courage and the coarseness to allude to the matter. Then Lady Tringle
declared that she must have Ayala, and so the matter was settled.
Ayalathe romantic; Ayala the poetic! It was a matter ofcourse that
Ayala should be chosen. Ayala had already been made intimate with the
magnificent saloons of the Tringles, and had been felt by Lady Tringle
to be an attraction. Her long dark black locks, which had never
hitherto been tucked up,which were never curled, which were never so
long as to be awkward, were already known as being the loveliest locks
in London.She sang as though Nature had intended herto be a
singing-bird -- requiring no education, no labour. She had been once
for three months inParis, and French had come naturally to her. Her
father had taught her something of his art, and flatterers had already
begun to say that she was born to be the one great female artist of
the world. Her hands, her feet, her figure were perfect. Though she
was as yet but nineteen, London had already begun to talk about Ayala
Dormer. Of course Lady Tringle chose Ayala, not remembering at the
moment that her own daughters might probably be superseded by their
cousin. And, therefore, as Lady Tringle said herself to Lucy with her
sweetest smile -- Mrs Dosett had chosen Lucy. The two girls were old
enough to know something of the meaning of such a choice. Ayala, the
younger, was to be adopted into immense wealth, and Lucy was to be
given up to comparative poverty. She knew nothing of heruncle Dosett's
circumstances, but the genteel house at NottingHill -- No. 3,
Kingsbury Crescent -- was known toher, and was but a poor affair as
compared even with the bijou in which she had hitherto lived. Her aunt
Dosett never rose to any vehicle beyond a four-wheeler, and was
careful even in thinking of that accommodation. Ayala would be whirled
about the park by a wire-wig and a pair of brown horses which they had
heard it said were not tobe matched in London. Ayala would be carried
with her aunt and her cousin to the show-roomof Madame Tonsonville,
the great French milliner of Bond Street, whereas she, Lucy, might too
probably be called on to make her own gowns. Allthe fashion of Queen's
Gate, something, perhaps, of the fashion of Eaton Square, would be
open to Ayala. Lucy understood enough to know that Ayala's own charms
might probably cause still more august gates to be opened to her,
whereas Aunt Dosettentered no gates. It was quite natural that Ayala
should be chosen. Lucy acknowledged as much to herself. But they were
sisters, and had been so near! By what a chasm would they be
dissevered, now so far asunder!
Lucy herself was a lovely girl, and knew her own loveliness. She was
fairerthan Ayala, somewhat taller, and much more quiet in her
demeanour. She was also clever, but her cleverness did not show itself
so quickly. She was a musician, whereas her sister could only sing.
She could really draw, whereas hersister would rush away into effects
in which the drawing was not always very excellent. Lucy was doing the
best she could for herself, knowing something of French andGerman,
though as yet not very fluent with her tongue. The two girls were, in
truth, both greatly gifted; but Ayala had the gift of showing her
talent without thought of showing it. Lucy saw it all, and knewthat
she was outshone; but how great had been the price of the outshining!
The artist's house had been badly ordered, and the two girls were of
better disposition and better conduct than might have been expected
from such fitfultraining. Ayala had been the father's pet and Lucy the
mother's. Parents do ill in making pets, and here they had done ill.
Ayala had been taught tothink herself the favourite, because the
artist, himself, had been more prominent before the world than his
wife. But the evil had not beenlasting enough to have made bad feeling
between the sisters. Lucyknew that her sister had been preferred to
her, but she had been self-denying enough to be aware that some
suchpreference was due to Ayala. She, too, admired Ayala, and loved
her with her whole heart. And Ayala was always good to her -- had
tried to divide everything -- had assumed no preference as a right.
The two were true sisters. But when it was decided that Lucy was to go
to Kingsbury Crescent the difference was very great. The two girls, on
their father's death, had been taken to the great red brick house in
Queen's Gate, and from hence, three or four daysafter the funeral,
Lucy was to be transferred to her Aunt Dosett. Hitherto there had been
little between them but weeping for their father.Now had come the hour
of parting.
The tidings had been communicated to Lucy, and to Lucy alone, by Aunt
Tringle -- "As you are the eldest, dear, we think that you will be
best able to be a comfortto your aunt," said Lady Tringle.
"I will do the best I can, Aunt Emmeline," said Lucy, declaring to
herselfthat, in giving such a reason, her aunt was lying basely.
"I am sure you will. Poor dear Ayala is younger than her cousins, and
will be more subject to them." So in truth was Lucy younger than her
cousins, but of that she said nothing. "I am sure you will agree with
me that it is best that we should have the youngest." "Perhaps it
is,Aunt Emmeline."
"Sir Thomas would not have had it any other way," said Lady Tringle,
with a little severity, feeling that Lucy's accordhad hardly been as
generous as it should be.But she recovered herself quickly,
remembering how muchit was that Ayala was to get, how much that Lucy
was to lose. "But, my dear, we shall see you very often, you know. It
is not so far across the park; and when we do have a few parties again
-- "
"Oh, aunt, I am not thinking of that."
"Of course not. We can none of us think of it justnow. But when the
time does come of course we shall always have you, just as if you were
one ofus." Then her aunt gave her a roll of bank-notes, a little
present of twenty-five pounds, to begin the world with, and told her
that the carriage should take her to Kingsbury Crescent on the
following morning. On the whole Lucy behaved well and left a pleasant
impression on her aunt's mind. The difference between Queen's Gate and
Kingsbury Crescent -- between Queen's Gate and Kingsbury Crescent for
life -- was indeed great!
"I wish it were you, with all my heart," said Ayala, clinging to her sister.
"It could not have been me."
"Why not!"
"Because you are so pretty and you are so clever."
"No!"
"Yes! If we were to be separated of course it would be so. Do not
suppose, dear, that I am disappointed."
"I am."
"If I can only like Aunt Margaret,"
Aunt Margaret was Mrs Dosett, with whom neither of the girls had
hitherto become intimate, and who was known to be quiet, domestic, and
economical, but who had also been spoken of as having a will of her
own -- "I shall do better with her than you would, Ayala."
"I don't see why."
"Because I can remain quiet longer than you. It will be very quiet. I
wonder how we shall see each other! I cannot walk across the park
alone."
"Uncle Reg will bring you."
"Not often, I fear. Uncle Reg has enough to do with his office. "You
can come in a cab."
"Cabs cost money, Ayey dear."
"But Uncle Thomas
"
"We had better understand one or two things, Ayala. Uncle Thomas will
pay everything for you, and as he is very rich things will come as
they are wanted. There will be cabs, and if not cabs, carriages. Uncle
Reg must pay for me, and he is very very kind to do so. But as he is
not rich, there will be no carriages, and not a great many cabs. It is
best to understand it all.""But they will send for you."
"That's as they please. I don't think they will veryoften. I would not
for the world put you against Uncle Thomas, but I have a feeling that
Ishall never get on with him. But you will never separate yourself
from me, Ayala!"
"Separate myself!"
"You will not
not be my sister because you will be one of these rich ones?"
"Oh, I wish
I wish that I were to be the poor one. I'm sure I should like it best.
I never cared about being rich. Oh, Lucy, can't we make them change?"
"No, Ayey, my own, we can't make them change.And if we could, we
wouldn't. It is altogether best that you should be arich Tringle and
that I should be a poor Dosett."
"I will always be a Dormer," said Ayala, proudly.
"And I will always be so too, my pet. But you should be a bright
Dormer among the Tringles, and I will be a dull Dormer among the
Dosetts. I shall begrudge nothing, if only we can see each other."
So the two girls were parted, the elder being taken away to
KingsburyCrescent and the latter remaining with her rich relations at
Queen's Gate.Ayala had not probably realized the great difference of
their futurepositions. To her the attractions of wealth andthe
privations of comparative poverty hadnot made themselves as yet
palpably plain. They do not become so manifest to those to whom the
wealth falls -- at any rate, not in early life -- as to the opposite
party. If the other lot hadfallen to Ayala she might have felt it more
keenly.
Lucy felt it keenly enough. Without any longing after the magnificence
of the Tringle mansion she knew how great was thefall from her
father's well-assorted luxuries and prettinesses down to the plain
walls, tables, and chairs of her Uncle Dosett's house. Her aunt did
not subscribe to Mudie's. The old piano had not been tuned for the
last ten years. The parlour-maid was a crossold woman. Her aunt always
sat in the dining-room through the greater part of the day, and of all
rooms the dining-room in Kingsbury Crescent was the dingiest. Lucy
understood very well to what she was going. Her father and mother were
gone. Her sister was divided from her. Her lifeoffered for the future
nothing to her. But with it all she carried a good courage. There was
present to her an idea ofgreat misfortune; but present to her at the
same time an idea also that she would do her duty.

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