To Mr. Dosett was deputed the agreeable task of telling Ayala on the next evening what was to befall her. If anything agreeable was to be done in that sombre house it was always deputed to the master.
"What!" said Ayala, jumping from her chair.
"On the eighth of November," said Mr. Dosett.
"To Stalham?"
"Lady Albury was with me yesterday at the office, and your aunt has consented."
"Oh, Uncle Reginald!" said Ayala, falling on her knees, and hiding her face on his lap. Heaven had been once more opened to her.
"I'll never forget it," said Ayala, when she went to thank her aunt,—"never."
"I only hope it may not do you a mischief."
"And I beg your pardon, Aunt Margaret, because I was,—I was,—because I was—" She could not find the word which would express her own delinquency, without admitting more than she intended to admit,—"too self-asserting, considering that I am only a young girl." That would have been her meaning could she have found appropriate words.
"We need not go back to that now," said Aunt Margaret.