"Circumstances will. Time will do it. Employment will do it.
A sense of your dignity as a man will do it, when you find yourself amongst others who know nothing of what you have suffered. You revel in your grief now because those around you know that you have failed. All that will be changed when you are with strangers.
You should not talk to your father of drowning yourself!""That was wrong. I know it was wrong," said Tom, humbly. "I won't do it if I can help it -- but perhaps I had better not go there.
And how long ought I to stay at Yokohama? Perhaps you had better put it all down on a bit of paper." Then Sir Thomas endeavoured to explain to him that all that he said now was in the way of advice. That it would be in truth left to himself to go almost where he liked and to stay at each place almost as long as he liked -- that he would be his own master, and that within some broad and undefined limits he would have as much money as he pleased to spend. Surely no preparations for a young man's tour were ever made with more alluring circumstances! But Tom could not be tempted into any expression of satisfaction.
This, however, Sir Thomas did gain -- that before he left his son's room it was definitely settled -- that Tom should take his departure on the Friday, going down to Liverpool by an afternoon train on that day. "I tell you what," said Sir Thomas; "I'll go down with you, see you on board the ship, and introduce you to Captain Merry. I shall be glad of an opportunity of paying a visit to Liverpool." And so the question of Tom's departure was settled.
On the Wednesday and Thursday he seemed to take some interest in his bags and portmanteaus, and began himself to look after those assuagements of the toils of travel which are generally dear to young men. He interested himself in a fur coat, in a well-arranged despatch box, and in a very neat leathern case which was intended to hold two brandy flasks. He consented to be told of the number of his shirts, and absolutely expressed an opinion that he should want another pair of dress-boots. When this occurred every female bosom in the house, from Lady Tringle's down to the kitchen-maid's, rejoiced at the signs of recovery which evinced themselves. But neither Lady Tringle nor the kitchen-maid, nor did any of the intermediate female bosoms, know how he employed himself when he left the house on that Thursday afternoon. He walked across the Park, and, calling at Kingsbury Crescent, left a note addressed to his aunt. It was as follows: "I start tomorrow afternoon -- I hardly know whither. It may be for years or it may be for ever. I should wish to say a word to Ayala before I go. Will she see me if I come at twelve o'clock exactly tomorrow morning? I will call for an answer in half an hour. T.T., junior.
Of course I am aware that Ayala is to become the bride of Colonel Jonathan Stubbs." In half an hour he returned, and got his answer.
"Ayala will be glad to have an opportunity of saying goodbye to you tomorrow morning."From this it will be seen that Ayala had at that time returned from Stalham to Kingsbury Crescent. She had come back joyful in heart, thoroughly triumphant as to her angel, with everything in the world sweet and happy before her -- desirous if possible to work her fingers on in mending the family linen, if only she could do something for somebody in return for all the joy that the world was giving her. When she was told that Tom wished to see her for the last time -- for the last time at any rate before her marriage -- she assented at once. "I think you should see him as he asks it," said her aunt.
"Poor Tom! Of course I will see him." And so the note was written which Tom received when he called the second time at the door.
At half past eleven he skulked out of the house in Queen's Gate, anxious to avoid his mother and sisters, who were on their side anxious to devote every remaining minute of the time to his comfort and welfare. I am afraid it must be acknowledged that he went with all his jewelry. It could do no good. At last he was aware of that. But still he thought that she would like him better with his jewelry than without it. Stubbs wore no gems, not even a ring, and Ayala when she saw her cousin enter the room could only assure herself that the male angels certainly were never bejewelled. She was alone in the drawing-room, Mrs Dosett having arranged that at the expiration of ten minutes, which were to be allowed to Tom for his private adieux, she would come down to say goodbye to her nephew. "Ayala!" said Tom.
"So you are going away -- for a very long journey, Tom.""Yes, Ayala; for a very long journey; to Pekin and Kabul, if I live through to get to those sort of places.""I hope you will live through, Tom."
"Thank you, Ayala. Thank you. I dare say I shall. They tell me I shall get over it. I don't feel like getting over it now.""You'll find some beautiful young lady at Pekin, perhaps.""Beauty will never have any effect upon me again, Ayala. Beauty indeed! Think what I have suffered from beauty! From the first moment in which you came down to Glenbogie I have been a victim to it. It has destroyed me -- destroyed me!""I am sure you will come back quite well," said Ayala, hardly knowing how to answer the last appeal.
"Perhaps I may. If I can only get my heart to turn to stone, then I shall. I don't know why I should have been made to care so much about it. Other people don't.""And now we must say, Goodbye, I suppose.""Oh, yes -- goodbye! I did want to say one or two words if you ain't in a hurry. Of course you'll be his bride now.""I hope so," said Ayala.
"I take that for granted. Of course I hate him.""Oh, Tom; you shan't say that."
"It's human nature! I can tell a lie if you want it. I'd do anything for you. But you may tell him this: I'm very sorry I struck him.""He knows that, Tom. He has said so to me.""He behaved well to me -- very well -- as he always does to everybody.""Now, Tom, that is good of you. I do like you so much for saying that.""But I hate him!"
"No!"
