her knees before
him, she put up her little hands to pray to him. "Uncle Tom, I
can't," she said. And then the tears came running down her cheeks.

"Why can't you, Ayala? Why cannot you be sensible, as other girls
are?" said Sir Thomas, lifting her up, and putting her on his knee.

"I can't," she said. "I don't know how to tell you."

"Do you love some other man?"

"No; no; no!" To Uncle Tom, at any rate, she need say nothing of the
image.

"Then why is it?"

"Because I can't. I don't know what to say, but I can't. I know how
very, very, very good you are."

"I would love you as my daughter."

"But I can't, Uncle Tom. Pray tell him, and make him get somebody
else. He would be quite happy if he could get somebody else."

"It is you that he loves."

"But what's the use of it, when I can't? Dear, dear Uncle Tom, do
have it all settled for me. Nothing on earth could ever make me do
it. I should die if I were to try."

"That's nonsense."

"I do so want not to make you angry, Uncle Tom. And I do so wish he
would be happy with someone else. Nobody ought to be made to marry
unless they like it;--ought they?"

"There is no talk of making," said Sir Thomas, frowning.

"At any rate I can't," said Ayala, releasing herself from her uncle's
embrace.

It was in vain that even after this he continued his request, begging
her to come down to Glenbogie, so that she might make herself used
to Tom and his ways. If she could only once more, he thought, be
introduced to the luxuries of a rich house, then she would give way.
But she would not go to Glenbogie; she would not go to Merle Park;
she would not consent to see Tom anywhere. Her uncle told her that
she was romantic and foolish, endeavouring to explain to her over
and over again that the good things of the world were too good to be
thrown away for a dream. At last there was a touch of dignity in the
final repetition of her refusal. "I am sorry to make you angry, but
I can't, Uncle Tom." Then he frowned with all his power of frowning,
and, taking his hat, left the room and the house almost without a
word.

At the time fixed the Marchesa's carriage came, and Ayala with her
boxes was taken away to Brook Street. Uncle Reginald had offered
to do something for her in the way of buying a frock, but this she
refused, declaring that she would not allow herself to become an
expense merely because her friends in Rome had been kind to her. So
she had packed up the best of w