We must again go back and pick up our threads to April, having rushed forward to be present at the wedding of Frank Houston and Imogene Docimer, which did not take place till near midsummer. This we must do at once in regard to Tom Tringle, who, if the matter be looked at aright, should be regarded as the hero of this little history. Ayala indeed, who is no doubt the real heroine among so many young ladies who have been more or less heroic, did not find in him the angel of whom she had dreamed, and whose personal appearance on earth was necessary to her happiness. But he had been able very clearly to pick out an angel for himself, and, though he had failed in his attempts to take the angel home with him, had been constant in his endeavours as long as there remained to him a chance of success. He had shown himself to be foolish, vulgar, and ignorant. He had given way to Bolivian champagne and Faddle intimacies. He had been silly enough to think that he could bribe his Ayala with diamonds for herself, and charm her with cheaper jewelry on his own person. He had thought to soar high by challenging his rival to a duel, and had then been tempted by pot courage to strike him in the streets. A very vulgar and foolish young man! But a young man capable of a persistent passion! Young men not foolish and not vulgar are, perhaps, common enough. But the young men of constant heart and capable of such persistency as Tom’s are not to be found every day walking about the streets of the metropolis. Jonathan Stubbs was constant, too; but it may be doubted whether the Colonel ever really despaired. The merit is to despair and yet to be constant. When a man has reason to be assured that a young lady is very fond of him, he may always hope that love will follow — unless indeed the love which he seeks has been already given away elsewhere. Moreover, Stubbs had many substantial supports at his back; the relationship of the Marchesa, the friendship of Lady Albury, the comforts of Stalham — and not least, if last, the capabilities and prowess of Croppy. Then, too, he was neither vulgar nor foolish nor ignorant. Tom Tringle had everything against him — everything that would weigh with Ayala; and yet he fought his battle out to the last gasp. Therefore, I desire my hearers to regard Tom Tringle as the hero of the transactions with which they have been concerned, and to throw their old shoes after him as he starts away upon his grand tour.
“Tom, my boy, you have to go, you know, in four days,” said his father to him. At this time Tom had as yet given no positive consent as to his departure. He had sunk into a low state of moaning and groaning, in which he refused even to accede to the doctrine of the expediency of a manly bearing. “What’s the good of telling a lie about it?” he would say to his mother. “What’s the good of manliness when a fellow would rather be drowned?” He had left his bed indeed, and had once or twice sauntered out of the house. He had been instigated by his sister to go down to his club, under the idea that by such an effort he would shake off the despondency which overwhelmed him. But he had failed in the attempts, and had walked by the doors of the Mountaineers, finding himself unable to face the hall porter. But still the preparations for his departure were going on. It was presumed that he was to leave London for Liverpool on the Friday, and his father had now visited him in his own room on the Tuesday evening with the intention of extorting from him his final consent. Sir Thomas had on that morning expressed himself very freely to his son-in-law Mr Traffick, and on returning home had been glad to find that his words had been of avail, at any rate as regarded the dinner-hour. He was tender-hearted towards his son, and disposed to tempt him rather than threaten him into obedience.
“I haven’t ever said I would go,” replied Tom.
“But you must, you know. Everything has been packed up, and I want to make arrangements with you about money. I have got a cabin for you to yourself, and Captain Merry says that you will have a very pleasant passage. The equinoxes are over.”
“I don’t care about the equinoxes,” said Tom. I should like bad weather if I am to go.”
“Perhaps you may have a touch of that, too.”
“If the ship could be dashed against a rock I should prefer it!” exclaimed Tom.
“That’s nonsense. The Cunard ships never are dashed against rocks. By the time you’ve been three days at sea you’ll be as hungry as a hunter. Now, Tom, how about money?”
“I don’t care about money,” said Tom.
“Don’t you? Then you’re very unlike anybody else that I meet. I think I had better give you power to draw at New York, San Francisco, Yokohama, Pekin, and Calcutta.”
“Am I to go to Pekin?” asked Tom, with renewed melancholy.
“Well, yes — I think so. You had better see what the various houses are doing in China. And then from Calcutta you can go up the country. By that time I dare say we shall have possession of Kabul. With such a government as we have now, thank God! the Russians will have been turned pretty nearly out of Asia by this time next year.”
“Am I to be away more than a year?”
“If I were you,” said the father, glad to catch the glimmer of assent which was hereby implied — “if I were you I would do it thoroughly whilst I was about it. Had I seen so much when I was young I should have been a better man of business.”
“It’s all the same to me,” said Tom. Say ten years, if you like it! Say twenty! I shan’t ever want to come back again. Where am I to go after Kabul?”
“I didn’t exactly fix it that you should go to Kabul. Of course you will write home and give me your own opinion as you travel on. You will stay two or three months probably in the States.”
“Am I to go to Niagara?” he asked.
“Of course you will, if you wish it. The Falls of Niagara, I am told, are very wonderful.”
“If a man is to drown himself,” said Tom, it’s the sort of place to do it effectually.”
“Oh, Tom!” exclaimed his father. Do not speak to me in that way when I am doing everything in my power to help you in your trouble!”
“You cannot help me,” said Tom.
“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 th............