Ayala's Angel E-Book

Anthony Trollope

• Herausgeber: Anthony Trollope
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Anthony Trollope was one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. Among his best-loved works is a series of novels collectively known as the Chronicles of Barsetshire, which revolves around the imaginary county of Barsetshire. He also wrote perceptive novels on political, social, and gender issues, and on other topical matters. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century (font: Wikipedia)

Leseprobe

Ayala's Angel

Anthony Trollope

Table of Contents

The two sisters

Lucy with her Aunt Dosett

Lucy’s troubles

Isadore Hamel

At Glenbogie

At Rome

Tom Tringle in earnest

The lout

The exchange

Ayala and her Aunt Margaret

Tom Tringle comes to the crescent

“Would you?”

How the Tringles fell into trouble

Frank Houston

Ayala with her friends

Jonathan Stubbs

Lucy is very firm

Down in Scotland

Isadore Hamel is asked to lunch

Stubbs upon matrimony

Ayalaxr’s indignation

Ayala’s gratitude

Stalham Park

Rufford Cross-Roads

“You are not he”

“The finest hero that I ever knew”

Lady Albury’s letter

Miss Docimer

At Merle Park. No. 1

At Merle Park. No. 2

The diamond necklace

Tom’s despair

Isadore Hamel in Lombard Street

“I never threatened to turn you out”

Tom Tringle sends a challenge

Tom Tringle gets an answer

Gertrude is unsuccessful

Frank Houston is penitent

Captain Batsby

Aunt Emmeline’s new proposition

“A cold prospect!”

Another duel

Once more!

In the Haymarket

There is something of the angel about him

Ayala goes again to Stalham

Captain Batsby At Merle Park

The journey to Ostend

The new frock

Gobblegoose Wood on Sunday

“No!”

“I call it folly.”

How Lucy’s affairs arranged themselves

Tom’s last attempt

In the castle there lived a knight

Gobblegoose Wood again

Captain Batsby in Lombard Street

Mr Traffick in Lombard Street

Tregothnan

Aunt Rosina

Tom Tringle goes upon his travels

How very much he loved her

Ayala again in London

Ayala’s marriage

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 — with poetic charm and a taste for romance. Ayala when her father died was nineteen.

We must begin yet a little earlier and say that there had been — and had died many years before 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 married her, 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. He had married old Mr Dosett’s eldest daughter, Emmeline, who was now Lady Tringle, with a house at the top of Queen’s Gate, rented at £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 giving herself to Egbert Dormer the artist, whose death we commemorated in our first line. But she had died before her husband. They who remembered the two Miss Dosetts as girls were wont 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 attractive from 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 £900 a year from his office, and might have lived in fair comfort had he not allowed a small millstone of 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 early age been accepted into the Royal Academy — had sold 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 his wife, 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 first and last of his extravagances. But when he went, and when his pretty things were sold, there was not enough to cover his debts. There was, however, a sweet savour about his name. When he died it was said of 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 two daughters, Lucy and Ayala. It should be explained that though a proper family intercourse had always been maintained between the three families, the Tringles, the Dormers, 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 was there 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, as to expenses, and that had never been forgiven by the artist. So things were when Mrs Dormer died first; and so they remained when her husband followed her.