THE TIME OF ROSES

by

MRS. L. T. MEADE

Author of"A Bunch of Cherries, " "Daddy's Girl, " "Bad Little Hannah, " "A World ofGirls, " "A School Favorite, " Etc. 

 "It was the Time of Roses; We plucked them as we passed. "

ChicagoM. A. Donohue & Company

[Illustration]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. Home at Last 5

 II. The Little Mummy's Arrangements 13

 III. A Startling Meeting 19

 IV. An Evil Genius 28

 V. Maurice Trevor 33

 VI. Mrs. Aylmer's Strategy 41

 VII. The Chains Begin to Fret 48

 VIII. Bertha's Quandary 56

 IX. A Tempting Offer 63

 X. The Little Mummy's Curiosity 69

 XI. Florence's Good Angel 72

 XII. Alone in London 80

 XIII. A Weary Wait 88

 XIV. A Blunt Question 92

 XV. Edith Franks 99

 XVI. On the Brink of an Abyss 106

 XVII. Nearer and Nearer 116

 XVIII. A Vestige of Hope 121

 XIX. In the Balance 128

 XX. Rose View 133

 XXI. An Awkward Position 137

 XXII. The Story Accepted 144

 XXIII. Bertha's Joy 151

 XXIV. Trevor Asks Bertha's Advice 156

 XXV. Trevor's Resolve 162

 XXVI. At Aylmer's Court 169

 XXVII. Bertha's Secret 174

 XXVIII. A Smiling World 178

 XXIX. Almost Betrayed 187

 XXX. The Telegram 194

 XXXI. Bertha Writes the Essay 199

 XXXII. Trevor and Florence 206

 XXXIII. A Tete-a-Tete 215

 XXXIV. Maurice Rebels 221

 XXXV. The Essay Arouses Criticism 225

 XXXVI. A Letter from Home 230

 XXXVII. Trevor Proposes to Florence 236

 XXXVIII. At the Reception 241

 XXXIX. An Admirable Arrangement 252

 XL. Is It "Yes" or "No"? 259

 XLI. The Little Mummy in London 271

 XLII. Bertha Keys Defeated 281

 XLIII. Mrs. Aylmer's Will 290

 XLIV. Bertha Changes Her Tone 298

 XLV. "All the Roses Are Dead" 309

 XLVI. A Denouement 313

 XLVII. Finis 324

THE TIME OF ROSES. 

CHAPTER I. 

HOME AT LAST. 

It was on a summer's evening early in the month of August that thelittle Mummy was once again seen on the platform at Dawlish. 

She looked now very much like she did when we saw her of yore--slightlybroadened, it is true, by the added years, but she still wore somewhatrusty widow's black, and her face still had that half-anxious, half-comical expression, which made people turn to look at her withsomething between a smile and a sigh. She was commonplace and plain, andyet in one sense she was neither commonplace nor plain. She had acharacter, and that character had developed during the last few years, and rather for the better. 

There were very few passengers on the platform, and the little womanpaced up and down, thinking to herself. 

"She is coming home at last. I don't know whether I am glad or sorry. Iwonder what sort of girl Miss Sharston is. She has been very kind toFlorence; but it was rash of Florence to invite her. Still, I supposewe shall be able to manage all right. "

Just then the signal announcing the approaching train was lowered, and amoment or two later the said train drew up at the platform and one ortwo passengers alighted. Amongst these was a tall, well-set-up, dark-eyed girl, and accompanying her was another girl, who was not sotall and was very slender, with an ethereal sort of face, and large, speaking grey eyes. 

The tall girl rushed up to where the little Mummy was standing. 

"Here I am, Mummy, " she said, "and this is Kitty, and we are both tiredand hungry, and glad to see you again. Is there any sort of trap for ourluggage, or can the porter take it and shall we walk to the cottage?"

"The cottage is just as small as ever it was, Florence, " replied thelittle Mummy. "Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss Sharston. " Here sheshook hands with Kitty Sharston. 

"We like things small, " said Kitty; "we want to have a real charmingtime in the country. It is very good of you to consent to take me in, Mrs. Aylmer. "

A porter now appeared. Florence bustled off to see to the luggage, andMrs. Aylmer and Kitty slowly left the station. Florence ran after themin a moment or two. 

"Well, " she said, "here we are! Both of us have done with school forever and a day. We are grown-up girls ready to take our place in theworld, and to give you a right good time, Mummy; isn't that so, Kitty?"

"Yes, " said Kitty, in that gentle voice which always had a patheticring in it. Then she added after a moment's pause: "But I don't knowthat I am glad to have left school; I must confess that I enjoyed thelast few years at Cherry Court School immensely. "

"Don't talk to me of Cherry Court School, " said the widow, with a littleshudder. 

She glanced round in an inquiring way at Florence, who coloured faintlyand then said, in a stout voice: "I have repented of that old sin longago, and I do not in the least mind having Cherry Court School alludedto. I have had a right good time, and it was a very lucky thing for me Idid not win that Scholarship, for if I had I should have been eating thebread of dependence now, whereas--" Here she drew herself up, uttered aquick sigh, and looked ahead of her. 

Her face was not handsome, but it was bright and taking. She was a headand shoulders taller than the little Mummy, who gazed at her withsomething of her old expression of mingled affection and fear. Florencehad quite double the strength of the little Mummy, and this astutepersonage was aware of the fact. 

They reached the tiny house, where Sukey was standing on the steps, looking not a day older than she had done six years ago. She dropped acurtsey when she saw Florence, but Florence ran up and wrung her hand. 

"How do you do, Sukey?" she said. "I am very glad to come home, and thisis my great friend Miss Sharston. "

Sukey stared up at Kitty; then she glanced at Mrs. Aylmer and slowlyshook her head. 

"It's a very, _very_ small house, " she said, "and how we are to fit youtwo young ladies in is more than I can tell. "

"Never mind, Sukey, " said Mrs. Aylmer; "I have it all arranged; don'tyou go and put your finger into the pie and spoil things, you silly, stupid old thing. "

Here Mrs. Aylmer shook her hand with a playful gesture at Sukey, andthen the entire party found themselves in the house. Florence had notbeen home for two or three years. Kitty had never seen the cottage atDawlish before. Certainly the one sitting-room was very tiny. 

"How it has dwindled!" said Florence, looking round her. "Good gracious!Why, the ceiling nearly reaches my head, and as for the walls"--shestretched out her long arms playfully--"I can almost touch from wall towall; but never mind, it's home; it's your house, Mummy, and you aregood to take us girls in and look after us for a whole delightfulfortnight. "

"There is a very nice supper waiting for you, " said Mrs. Aylmer, "andquite in the old style--crabs and a water-cress salad. I thought youwould appreciate that; we so often had crabs for supper when--when youwere here last, Flo. You remember them, don't you?"

"Nothing could be more appetising, " replied Florence. "Would you like tocome upstairs now, Kitty?"

Mrs. Aylmer had given up her wee bed-room to the two girls. Where shewas to sleep was a mystery known only to herself; but, as she seemedquite cheerful and happy over it, Florence advised Kitty not toinvestigate matters too closely. 

"It's the Mummy's way, " she said; "she likes managing; she quite adoresthe thought of having us both with her in this little dull house. Canyou put up with it, Kitty?"

"The place is quite lovely, " replied Kitty, "and I would put up withanything after the news I told you this morning. "

"Oh, that your father is really coming back: that you have not to go toIndia after all: that you are going to live here and take a beautifulhouse and be real mistress of a home, " said Florence. 

"I don't know anything about the beautiful house, nor being mistress ofa home, " replied Kitty; "but I am going to be with father wherever heis, and that, " she added, "will be home to me. "

"Of course, " answered Florence, in a somewhat wistful tone. 

"But what are you going to do, Flo?"

"I am going to earn my living, " replied Florence stoutly. 

"Of course; but how?"

"I shall talk things over with you and the Mummy. I have left school atlast for good. What a blessing it is that I shall not have anything todo with Aunt Susan! I feel so jolly independent; but I should like tomeet her and--"

"Girls, supper is ready, " called out Mrs. Aylmer's voice from below, andthe two ran downstairs. 

The meal was very merry; the old schoolfellows were glad to be together. Mrs. Aylmer chatted in very much the way she had chatted six years ago. She could not help constantly alluding to Mrs. Aylmer the great. 

"I have not seen her, " she said; "but she sends me my money regularlyonce a quarter--twelve pounds ten shillings. She never misses a day, Iwill say that for her, and I think I am a very good manager not to beone farthing in debt. "

"You are perfectly splendid, mother, " replied Florence. 

"She has never once asked for you; she said she would not, and she haskept her word, " continued Mrs. Aylmer. 

"Well, mother, does it matter?" replied the daughter. 

"They say, too, " continued the little Mummy--and here she heaved a heavysigh--"that she has adopted a young man as her heir. I have never seenhim, but his name is Maurice Trevor. He is no relation of any sort, andgoodness knows why she has adopted him. They say he is a very pushingand a very designing young man, and that he twists poor Susan round hislittle finger. I know she sent him to Cambridge and spent an enormoussum on him there--two or three hundred a year at the very least--and nowhe has returned and lives with her, and is to take the management of herestates. She has been buying a lot of fresh property; but there--I amsick of the subject. You didn't play your cards well, Florence; youought to have been in the position which young Mr. Trevor occupies. "

"I am glad I am not, " replied Florence; "I'm twice the girl for beingindependent. Mother, Kitty and I want to go out and have a walk by theseashore. "

"Do, my dear, do; I have a great deal to contrive and manage, andSusan's temper is not what it was. Oh, don't breathe it too loud. Iwouldn't part with her for the world; but really she does rule me. She'll be as cross as two sticks because we sat so long over supper. Dogo; it is a lovely evening. "

So the two girls put on their hats and went out. There was a silver moonshining to-night on a silver sea, and the place looked calm andpeaceful, as if no storms had ever ruffled those waters: as if notrouble had ever visited those shores. 

Kitty, whose heart was full of song and her face of delight, almostdanced as she walked. Florence's steps were also full of spring, butthey were a little slower than her companion's. 

"What are you thinking of, Flo?" said the younger girl. 

"All sorts of things, " replied Florence; "about that man, MauriceTrevor, for instance. I don't envy him. "

"Nor do I. I wonder he submits to it, " said Kitty. "But don't let usthink of him. He has nothing whatever to do with us. "

"No more he has, " answered Florence; "but to eat the bread ofdependence: to eat _her_ bread! Oh, he must be a horror! I only trust Ishall never meet him. "

Kitty now linked her arm inside her companion's. 

"You must often come and stay with me, " she said: "it would bedelightful. I will coax and beg of father to have a house where you cancome; then you will have two homes, you know, Florry: the little Mummy'shome, as you always call your mother, and my home. You will be equallywelcome at both. Oh, dear, you are quite my very greatest friend--thegreatest friend I have in all the world. "

"You are wonderfully good to put up with me, " said Florence; "but there, I have repented of that old sin, and it is not going to darken mylife. "

"There is only one thing I dislike about you, Florence, " said Kitty. Shefrowned slightly as she spoke. 

"What is that?"

"You always will revert to the old times. Just do promise me that youwon't speak of them again, at least to me. "

"I will try not, darling; but you are good to forget. "

CHAPTER II. 

THE LITTLE MUMMY'S ARRANGEMENTS. 

Those who remember "A Bunch of Cherries" will recall the fact thatFlorence Aylmer left Cherry Court School under a cloud: that KittySharston won the prize offered by Sir John Wallis, and of course stayedon at the school; and that Bertha Keys, finding her game was up and herwickedness discovered, disappeared--it was hoped by the unhappy girlwhom she had injured never to show her face again. 

In this old world of ours, however, bad people do not always receivetheir punishment, and it came to pass that Bertha Keys, although she hadfailed in the case of Cherry Court School, did manage to feather hernest and to secure a very comfortable post for herself. 

So daring an adventuress was this young woman that she absolutely madeup her mind to lay siege to no less a person than Mrs. Aylmer the great. 

It was easy for her to do this. Mrs. Aylmer had not noticed her on thatauspicious occasion when all the girls of the school were collected inSir John Wallis's fine old house. The part that Bertha had played in theaffair, which had lowered her niece in her eyes for ever, was veryslightly impressed on her memory. There was a pupil teacher who had notbehaved right, but what the name of that pupil teacher was had neversunk into the good lady's memory. 

She was terribly disappointed about her niece Florence, although shepretended not to care, and a month or two afterwards she advertised in alocal paper for a companion. 

The person who answered this advertisement was Bertha Keys. She managedto satisfy the good lady with regard to testimonials, taking care neverto breathe the name of Cherry Court School. She secured the post, andfrom that moment ruled Mrs. Aylmer, although Mrs. Aylmer supposed thatshe ruled her. 

Florence found a friend in Sir John Wallis, who put her on thefoundation of an excellent school which he knew of. She was welleducated, and now at the age of twenty was prepared to fight the battleof life. 

Florence had received a present of twenty pounds from Sir John Wallis onleaving school, and with this slender provision she meant to fight theworld and find her own niche. 

Kitty Sharston had fulfilled all her early promise of beauty and grace. Her father was now returning to England, and she was to go and live withhim. 

Mrs. Aylmer the less was just as determined and just as peculiar as inthe days of old. She always spoke out what she thought, and the nextmorning at breakfast, as the two girls with rosy faces and bright eyessat round the very tiny board, she expounded her views. 

"Florence, " she said, "I am nothing if I am not frank. "

"We know that, Mummy, " replied her daughter, with a twinkle in herbright dark eyes; "what is up now?"

"Only this: I have been thinking things in the night. "

"Oh, do satisfy my curiosity, Mrs. Aylmer, " exclaimed Kitty; "where didyou sleep last night? You don't know how uncomfortable Florry and Iwere, fearing we had taken your bed. "

"Which you did, my dear. If it was a subject of fear, your fears wererealised, " responded the little widow. 

"Oh, but this is quite dreadful: ought we to stay on here, Florry, or, at least, ought I to stay on?"

"How much, Florry, are you going to pay me per week?" now exclaimed Mrs. Aylmer. "I wish I could take you, my dear, darling child, for nothing;but the fact is, I cannot, and if I could Sukey would not allow it. Sukey says that a greater stint she will not bear, and twelve pounds tena quarter cannot be made to go farther than we two poor women make itgo, Florence. Do you think you could rise to the sum of fifteenshillings a week if I give you meat every day?"

"Of course, Mummy, of course. "

"And I must and will pay a pound a week, " said Kitty; "why, it ischeap--so cheap that father will be more than astonished, and the placeis so lovely, and I am enjoying it greatly. Can you put me up and giveme what food I require for a pound a week, Mrs. Aylmer?"

"It will be riches, " said Mrs. Aylmer, with tears in her eyes. "The factis, I can feed you both comfortably for ten shillings a piece, and therest will be clear profit: fifteen shillings over for clear profit. Why, I won't know myself. I might be able to buy some new clothes; for Ideclare, my dears, I am shabby, having turned and turned and contrivedand contrived until my clothes are past wearing. Your aunt has not sentme a box of her cast-offs for over a year, and I think it is extremelyunkind of her. "

"But you have not told me yet where you slept last night, dear Mrs. Aylmer, " said Kitty. 

"Well, dear, if you must know, I slept here in this room. I slept on thedining-table. I borrowed some extra pillows from a neighbour, or, rather, Sukey borrowed them for me, for it would never do for my friendsto suppose that I have not got abundance of pillows in my own house. Ihave had quite a luxurious night, my dear girls; so pray don't troubleabout me. "

Kitty looked somewhat inclined to cry, but Florence burst out laughing. She jumped up, went to her mother, and put her arms round her neck. 

"You dear little Mummy, " she said; "you are too comical for anything. "

"There is no doubt whatever, " replied Mrs. Aylmer, in answer to thiscaress, "that God Almighty makes us each in the most useful shape andform. Now, you are big, Florence, and could never manage on a table, buta little woman like me--why, it comes in most handy. Everything isarranged for the best, and so I always say. " Here she glanced around herwith her black eyes full of merriment, and certainly she looked ashappy, notwithstanding her uncomfortable bed, as woman could look. 

"I thought of sharing the kitchen with Sukey, " she said; "but she won'tstand any disarrangement of her habits, so there was nothing but thetable, and if you think that it isn't worth that small discomfort forthe sake of having you two bright young things about the house, and theneighbours remarking on you and wondering how I am managing, and I withfifteen shillings a week to the good in my pocket, why, you don't knowyour mother, Florence Aylmer. "

"Well, Mummy, and what was that thought you said you had in the back ofyour head?" continued Florence. 

"Oh, that, " said Mrs. Aylmer--here she looked at both girls. "I wonder, Kitty Sharston, " she said, "if you can keep a secret?"

"Try me, Mrs. Aylmer, " replied Kitty. 

"Well, I was thinking things over in the night, and it struck me thatthe very best possible way to punish my sister-in-law, Susan Aylmer, andhave everything that was wrong put right, is for you, Florence, tosecure the young man, Maurice Trevor, as your husband. "

"Oh, mother, how can you talk such nonsense?" said Florence. "As if Iwould, " she added, jumping to her feet and shaking the crumbs from herdress. 

"There, " said Mrs. Aylmer, "that's just like you. I have been planningit all. You have but to show the fascinations which all women ought topossess, and you will soon twist him round your little finger. "

"I could never, never think of it, mother; and I am distressed that youshould say it, and more particularly before Kitty, " was Florence'sanswer. 

Mrs. Aylmer laughed. 

"Girls always say that, " she remarked, "but in the end they yield to theinevitable. It would be a splendid _coup_; it would serve her right. She would be forced to have you living with her after all. I am told shehas made the young man the heir of all she possesses, and--but what isthe matter, my dear?"

"I really won't listen to another word, " cried Florence, and she jumpedup and ran out of the room. 

Mrs. Aylmer's eyes now filled with tears. She looked full at Kitty. 

"I don't know what is the matter with Florence, " she said. "I had hopedthat that dreadful thing which happened years ago had subdued her spiritand tamed her a trifle, but she seems just as obdurate as ever. It wassuch a beautiful idea, and it came over me in the night, and I thought Iwould tell Florence at once, and we might put our heads together andcontrive a means by which the young folks could meet; but if she takesit up in that dreadful spirit, what is to be done?"

"But, of course, Mrs. Aylmer, it would never do, " said Kitty. "How canyou think of such a thing for a single moment?"

CHAPTER III. 

A STARTLING MEETING. 

Kitty went out soon afterwards and joined Florence on the beach. Theywalked up and down, chatting eagerly. For a time nothing whatever wassaid about Mrs. Aylmer's queer suggestion; then suddenly Florence spokeof it. 

"There is one thing I ought to say, Kitty. "

"What is that?" asked Kitty. 

"You must never mind the little Mummy's oddities. She has lived alone onextremely circumscribed means for many years, and when she gets an ideainto her head she broods on it. "

"You mean, of course, what she said with regard to Mr. --Mr. Trevor, "said Kitty, flushing as she spoke. 

"Yes, it wasn't nice of her, " said Florence, with a sigh; "and we won'teither of us think of it again. Kitty, I have made up my mind not tomarry. "

"Why so?"

"For a great many reasons. One of them is that I vastly prefer myindependence. Another is that I do not think a rich nice man is likelyto come in my way, and I do not want to have anything to do with a poorman, whether he is nice or nasty. I have seen too much of poverty. Ihave had it close to me all my days. I mean to do well in the world: tobe beholden to no one. In a fortnight's time I am going to London. I amjust taking this one fortnight of rest and refreshment: then I go toLondon. I have in my trunk half a dozen introductions to differentpeople. I mean to use them; I mean to get something to do; I mean tostep from the lowest rung of the ladder up to the highest. I mean to bea success: to prove to the world that a girl can fight her own battles, live her own life, secure her reward--be, in short, a success. "

"Why, Florence, " said her companion, "how well you speak; how excitedyou look!"

"I have not gone through all I have gone through in my life fornothing, " was Florence's reply. "I will never scheme again, I will neveragain do anything underhand, and I will not marry the man my mother hassingled out for me. "

She had scarcely said the words before the attention of both girls wasarrested by the sound of a merry laugh not ten yards away. They bothlooked round, and Florence's cheeks first of all grew vivid and thenturned white. A gracefully-dressed woman, or rather girl, was crossingthe sands, accompanied by a young man in a grey suit. The man had broadshoulders, closely-cropped, rather fair hair, a sweeping moustache, andeyes as blue as the sky. He had a nice, open sort of face. He was tall, nearly six feet in height, and held himself as erect as a grenadier. Hewas bending towards the girl and talking to her, and the girl continuedto laugh, and once she glanced with a quick, darting movement in thedirection where Kitty and Florence were sitting. Then, touching hercompanion on the arm, she said: "I am tired; will you take me back tothe hotel?"

Neither Kitty nor Florence said a word until the pair--the good-looking, well-set-up young man and the girl in her pretty summerdress--disappeared from view. Then Florence turned to Kitty. 

"It is?" said Florence. 

Kitty nodded. 

"Who would have believed it?" continued Florence. She started up in herexcitement. 

"I do not think I can quite stand this, " she said. 

"But where has she come from?" said Kitty again. 

"How can I tell? I never want to see her wicked face again. "

"She looks just as young as she did six years ago, " said Kitty. Then sheadded impulsively: "I am sorry I have seen her again; I never could bearher face. Do you think her eyes were set quite straight in her head, Florence?"

"I don't know anything about that, " answered Florence recklessly. "Longago she did me a great deal of harm. There came a time when I almosthated her. Whether her eyes are straight or not, her mind at least iscrooked. Who is that man she is with?"

"He is good-looking and looks nice also, " said Kitty. 

Florence made no reply. The girls paced up and down together; butsomehow the edge of the day's enjoyment seemed gone. They went in totheir midday meal between twelve and one, and afterwards Kitty, who saidshe felt a little tired, went to lie down. Florence, however, was stillrestless and perturbed; she hated the thought of the vicinity of BerthaKeys, and yet she had a curious longing to know something about her. 

"I am not going to fight shy of her or to show her that I am in theleast afraid of her, " thought Florence; "I can make myself much moredisagreeable to her and much more dangerous than she can ever makeherself to me. I wonder where she is staying?"

Mrs. Aylmer proposed that she and her daughter should spend theafternoon on the sands. 

"Let us visit the shrimp-woman and get some fresh shrimps and perhaps acrab or a lobster for supper, " said the little Mummy, holding out a baitwhich would have quite won the day in the old times. But Florence hadoutgrown her taste for these special dainties. 

"I want to go out alone, Mummy, " she said; "you and I and Kitty can havea walk after tea, but just for the present I must be alone. " She pinnedon her hat, put on her gloves, and left the cottage. 

Mrs. Aylmer stood in the porch and watched her. 

"A good girl, a fairly good-looking girl too, " she said to herself, "butobstinate, obstinate as a mule. Even that trouble of long ago has nottamed her. She is the image of her poor dear father; he always was a manwith a desperate will of his own. "

Miss Aylmer watched Florence until she disappeared in the direction ofthe pier. There was a bench there, and a girl was seated on it. She worea pink dress of some washing material and a large black shady hat. Florence came nearer and nearer. The girl, who was reading a book, dropped it and gazed in her direction. Presently Florence found herselfwithin less than two hundred yards from the place where the other girlwas seated. At this moment the girl flung down her book, uttered a hastyexclamation, and came forward. 

"Is it or is it not Florence Aylmer?" she said. She held out both herhands, uttering a little cry of apparent pleasure. 

Florence did not notice the outstretched hands. She came up to her. 

"I have come on purpose, " she said; "I knew you were here. What are youdoing here?"

"Why should I tell you what I am doing?" replied Bertha. Her eyesslightly contracted, she pushed her hair away from her forehead, thenshe looked full at Florence and uttered a laugh. "What is the good ofquarrelling?" she said. "We have met. I am in the running; you are outof it. I am up and you are down. My prospects are first-rate, yours----"

"What do you mean? How can you tell anything about my prospects? Why doyou trouble me? Why did you come to meet me just now?"

"Speak the truth, " said Miss Keys; "were you not coming on purpose tosee me?"

Florence was silent for a moment. 

"I recognised you this morning, " she said, "and I was restless to knowwhy you were here. "

"Ah, curiosity, you are Eve's own daughter, " said Bertha Keys, with alaugh. "Well, now that we have met, we may as well talk the thing out. Can you deny that you are down and I am up?"

"I neither deny nor affirm your statement, " replied Florence. "I havenever heard of you--I have never mentioned your name since thatdreadful day at Cherry Court six years ago. "

"Six years this autumn--not quite six years yet, " replied Bertha, correcting her. "Yes, I too remember the day, " she said thoughtfully. "It seemed a bad day for me, and yet it was a good one. I have featheredmy nest. You stepped out of it and I stepped in. Do you understand?"

"I don't. "

"You have grown a good deal, Florence Aylmer, " said Bertha, looking herall over. "You are what would be called a fine young woman. If you hadhad the advantages of a refined life, of very good dress, you might, nowthat you are grown up, command almost any future. As it is"--sheshrugged her shoulders. 

"What is the matter with my dress?" said Florence; "you always werequeer and rude, Bertha, and time has not improved you. "

"You cannot say that I am badly dressed, " said Bertha Keys, and sheglanced at her exquisitely-cut pink zephyr skirt, her pretty blouse, andher neat shoes. 

Florence also eyed her all over. 

"You are well got up, " she said; "but what of that? Your face neverchanges. "

"Thank you for the compliment, " replied Bertha; "I cannot say that youare well got up, and your face, if it has changed, is not more beautifulthan it promised to be. "

"Pray leave my face alone; it belongs to me, not to you, " retortedFlorence, with some spirit. 

"Do you want to know what I am doing now: how I am managing to live?"said Bertha. 

"You can tell me if you please; if you prefer not to say anything, itdoes not matter in the least. "

"But it does matter; it matters a good deal, " replied Bertha. "You didsomething very silly long ago. You thought to succeed, but you failed. It was not my fault. I did what I could for you. If I was clever then, Iam still more clever now. I have a gift of writing, but I need not wearmy brain out thinking of curious essays and well-devised stories andclever plots. I am working at my own story, and I think it will come offwell. "

"But what do you mean? Where are you?"

"We are staying at the 'Crown and Garter' for the present. "

"We?" said Florence, in a questioning tone. 

"Yes; how stupid you are! Have not you guessed! Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor, and I. "

"You don't mean it?" said Florence, springing to her feet. "Aunt Susan!Are you staying with her?"

"Yes, and I fancy I am indispensable to her. I have lived with her fornearly six years. I manage her affairs; I write her letters; I attend toher business; she consults me about everything. She goes where I like;she does what I want. The nest is comfortable. It was meant for you, butit fits me. Now perhaps you know. "

"And Mr. --Mr. Trevor?" said Florence, in a trembling voice. 

"Oh, he fits me too. He is a very good fellow, very nice indeed. Hethinks I am quite an angel; he admires my talent, as he calls it. Ibelieve he would be very sad if I were not there; he is much more likelyto go than I am. Yes, Florence, you did well for me when you lost thatScholarship. I thought I would tell you. "

"Oh! oh!" said Florence, trembling and turning pale; "but if Aunt Susanknew! If she knew!"

"Yes, if she knew, " said Bertha, "but she does not know, and of courseyou won't tell her. "

"You think I won't; but--but Mummy will. "

"I don't think so. It would be much worse for yourselves if you did. Ican hoodwink her; I can turn her against your mother; I can make hermore bitterly opposed to you. Now you have to understand. I have longfelt that I must come to an understanding with you. You must keepsilence. If you speak you will do very little good, but it is possibleyou may give me an uncomfortable half-hour. Now, I don't care to have anuncomfortable half-hour, and, above all things, I don't want Mr. Trevorset against me. "

"Do you--do you mean to marry him?" said Florence abruptly. 

Bertha Keys coloured very faintly. 

"You are impertinent, " she said; "I refuse to answer. I am comfortablewhere I am, and I mean to stay there. If you put Mr. Trevor against me, if you put Mrs. Aylmer against me, it will be all the worse foryourself; but if, on the other hand, you respect my secret, I can makethings perhaps a shade more comfortable for you. "

"Oh, oh, Bertha, no, " said poor Florence. She covered her face--hercheeks were crimson. "I hate you! I can never be your friend. Why didyou come here?"

"I came on purpose. I have not lost sight of you. You know somethingabout me which I do not want the world to know. You could make thingsuncomfortable for me. I guessed that you would be coming here about now, and Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor, and I came to the 'Crown and Garter' at mysuggestion. We will leave again the day after to-morrow; but not--notuntil you have made me a promise. "

CHAPTER IV. 

AN EVIL GENIUS. 

After Bertha said the last words, Florence was quite silent. Berthaturned and looked at her; then, satisfied with what she saw or fanciedshe saw in her face, she turned aside again, giving a faint sigh as shedid so. 

"It was a narrow shave, " she said to herself; "this had to be. If shetook it in one way all was lost; but she won't take it in that dreadfulway: she will protect me for her own sake. The girl who could stoop todeceit, who could use my assistance to gain her own ends six years ago, is not immaculate now. I can use her in the future; she will beextremely useful in many ways, and my secret is absolutely safe. "

So Bertha leant back against the bench, crossed one prettily-shod footover the other, and looked out across the summer sea. Presently Florencespoke in a low tone. 

"Good-bye, " she said. She rose as she uttered the words. 

"Why do you say that? Sit down again. We have come to no terms. "

"We cannot come to any, " answered Florence, in still that low, almostheart-broken voice. Then, all of a sudden, without the least warning, she burst into tears. 

"You bring the past back to me, Bertha, " she said: "the hateful past. "

"It is very silly of you indeed to cry, " said Bertha; "and as to thepast, goodness knows it is dead and buried deep enough unless you chooseto dig it out of its grave. Leave it alone, Florence, and come to termswith me. Now, for goodness' sake stop crying!"

"I won't tell of you just at present, " said Florence; "that is the onlything I can say now. " Once more she rose. 

"You had Kitty Sharston with you this morning, " continued Bertha. "Sherecognised me too, did she not?"

"Yes, we both recognised you. "

"I never did anything particular to injure her; I mean, everything cameright for her, " continued Bertha; "she could scarcely interfere. It isyou whom I dread. You and your mother between you can do me harm; but, after all, even at your very worst I may not be deprived of my presentcomfortable home and my delightful future. But I do not choose to runthe risk, so you must promise that you won't betray me. "

"Does mother know that Mrs. Aylmer--that Aunt Susan is staying atDawlish?" continued Florence. 

"She probably knows it by this time. Mrs. Aylmer has written her a noteasking her to call to see her. She won't see you, so don't imagine it. "

"I don't want to see her. "

"Before your mother accepts that invitation, I want you to secure hersilence; or, stay, " continued Bertha briskly, "I will see her myself. "She thought for a moment over a new idea which had come to her. Her lipsthen broke into smiles. 

"How stupid of me!" she said. "I never thought of your mother before;she is the very person. I will meet you to-morrow morning here, Florence, and then you can tell me what you decide. It will be all thebetter for you if you are wise: all the worse for you if you are silly. Now go home, as I see you are dying to do so. "

Florence turned away from her companion without even bidding hergood-bye: her heart was in a tumult. She scarcely knew what to say orwhat to do. 

She did not want to injure Bertha, and yet she hated to feel that shewas in her present position. She disliked her as much as it was possiblefor her to dislike anyone. 

"She makes me feel bad, " thought the girl; "she brings back the dreadfulpast. Oh, I was a wicked girl; but she helped to make me so. She bringsback the dreadful, dreadful past. "

By the time she had reached her mother's cottage she resolved to tellher exactly what had transpired and to ask her advice. 

"For the little Mummy must also have learned her lesson: the littleMummy will tell me what is right to do, " thought the girl. 

But when she entered the house Mrs. Aylmer was nowhere to be seen. 

Sukey, on the contrary, came forward with an important manner. 

"Well, Miss Flo, " she said, "when you come to the place, that aunt ofyours seems also to put in an appearance. Your mother has had a notefrom her. She is staying at the 'Crown and Garter, ' and Mrs. Aylmer hasgone up there to tea. No, you are not invited, Miss Flo, and sorry I amthat you are not. "

"It doesn't matter, Sukey, " replied Florence. She sighed as she spoke. 

"Have you a bit of a headache, my dear?" asked the old servant. 

"Yes, I think I have, " answered the girl. 

"I'll get you your tea, and the tea for the other pretty young lady too. You can have it in the porch. It's a lovely evening. It don't do forgirls to have headaches; but there's nothing to set you right like a cupof tea. "

Sukey bustled off to prepare the simple meal, and presently Kitty camedownstairs. She was refreshed by her sleep and inclined to be merry withFlorence. Florence, however, felt too anxious to talk much. 

"What is the matter with you, Florry? Are you worried about anything?"asked the companion. "Oh, I suppose it is about that wretched BerthaKeys. What can she be doing here?"

"You'll be amazed when I tell you that I saw Bertha this afternoon, "continued Florence. "Where do you think she is staying? What post do youthink she has secured?"

"How can I tell?" answered Kitty, raising her brows almost withimpatience; then she added, before Florence could utter a word: "I amafraid I don't greatly care. All you and I want is that she should notcome into our lives. "

"But she has come into my life once more, " said poor Florence, claspingand unclasping her strong white hands as she spoke. "I believe she is myevil genius. I quite dread her, and she has a power over me, and it hasnot lessened, although I have not seen her for six years. Do you knowwhere she is staying?"

"No. "

"She is living with Aunt Susan Aylmer as her companion. "

Kitty was so much startled by the news that she sprang to her feet. 

"Never!" she cried. 

"It is the case; she has been with Aunt Susan for years. "

"But how did she get the post? From the little I have seen of your aunt, she is one of the most particular, fastidious women in the world. "

"Trust Bertha to manage that, " replied Florence, in a bitter tone; "butanyhow, she is very much afraid of me: she does not want me to see AuntSusan, nor tell her what I know. "

"And what will you do, Flo?"

"I am undecided at the present moment. "

"I think you ought to tell her, " said Kitty gravely. 

"She won't see me, and I do dread making Bertha a greater enemy than sheis at present. "

"All the same, I think you ought to tell her, " replied Kitty. She lookedgrave and earnest as she spoke. 

"If I were you I would, " replied Florence, with some bitterness; "if Iwere you I would never do a crooked thing, or think a crooked thought;but I am not made that way. I am different, quite different. Shefrightens me. "

"Well, don't think any more of her just now. Take your tea and let us goout for a walk. "

CHAPTER V. 

MAURICE TREVOR. 

Florence's head ached sufficiently badly to make her inclined tofollow Kitty's advice. The girls had just finished their tea whenMrs. Aylmer, with flushed cheeks, and wearing her very bestturned-for-the-twentieth-time dress, entered the little room where theywere seated. 

"Well, well, girls, " she said: "well, well, where do you think I havebeen?"

"I know, Mummy, " said Florence. 

"You know!" replied Mrs. Aylmer. "Who told you?"

"Sukey. "

"I begged of her not; but really that woman can keep nothing to herself, and she is always agog to be first in the field. Your aunt is going tosend me a trunk full of old clothes. I dare say some of them may be madeto fit you, Flo. "

"I do not think so, mother, " answered Florence. 

"Where is the use of being proud? She's a very fine figure of a womanstill. She wears wonderfully, and she has a most charming secretary: asort of companion, a delightful girl. She and I walked down togetheralmost to this door. She is in your shoes, my poor Florence; but she isreally a _very_ nice girl. "

"I have seen her to-day, mother; I know who she is, " said Florencegravely; "her name is Bertha Keys. "

"Bertha Keys, " replied Mrs. Aylmer; "Bertha Keys?"

"You know who Bertha Keys is, mother. She is the girl, the pupilteacher, who behaved so badly at Cherry Court School six years ago. "

"Oh, we won't mention that affair; it is dead and buried; we are notgoing to dig it out of its grave, " replied Mrs. Aylmer. 

Florence did not reply. She looked full at her mother. 

"Bertha has been saying something to her, " she thought; "she has beentrying to influence her. Those were almost Bertha's own words. " She gotup hastily. 

"The fact is, mother, I do not care to talk of it, " she said; "the wholething has upset me very much. "

"Well, darling, I cannot think that it is your affair. It is bitterlydisappointing that you should have lost your Aunt Susan's patronage. Howproud I should be of you now if you were really her adopted daughter. "

"Why, no, mother, you would not see me; you forget that part. "

"To be sure, how stupid I am!" said Mrs. Aylmer. "Well, your aunt wasmost agreeable to-day: not so stingy either. We had quite a nice littletea; and that young man I told you of, Mr. Trevor, he came in. He is acharming person, my dear; quite fascinating. I was much taken with him. I longed to ask him to call, but I saw that Susan would allow noliberties. He chatted to me all the time, and was so agreeable. I amquite delighted with him. "

"We are going for a walk now, mother, " said Florence. 

"Well, dear, do; you both look pale. I want you to get nice andsunburnt, and to have a right good time. Yes, I am quite pleased with myvisit. There is no use in quarrelling with your relations, and Susan, the moment she looked at my poor turned skirt--it is shiny, is it not, Miss Sharston?--she spoke about that trunk of clothes which is to arrivenext week. She turned to the charming Miss Keys, and asked her tocollect them. "

"And you stood it, mother; you really stood it, " said Florence, thecolour coming and going on her face. 

"My dear, good girl, beggars cannot be choosers. I have been absolutelyat my wits' ends for clothes since Susan has been so thoughtless. I notonly stood it, but on the way home I gave Miss Keys a hint as to thesort of things I wanted. I told her to try and smuggle into the trunkone of your aunt's rich black silks. She said she thought she couldmanage it, as she has at least four or five at the present moment, andnever can tell herself how many she has. I told Miss Keys to let it befour in the future, and send the fifth on to me, and she laughed. She isa very clever, agreeable girl, and said she thought it could be done. Iam made. I'll astonish the neighbours this winter. "

"Come out, Kitty, " said poor Florence, turning to her companion. Shefelt that, fond as she was of the little Mummy, she could not endure anymore of her society for the present. 

The moment the girls had departed, Mrs. Aylmer, who was standing ontiptoe near the window to watch them as they went slowly away in thedirection of the beach, turned abruptly, went to the door of the littlesitting-room, and locked it. She then put her hand into her pocket. 

"Is it true? Have I the evidence of my own senses?" she thought. "Inever met a nicer girl than Miss Keys. Of course, she did wrong yearsago: but so, for that matter, did my own poor Florence. She really canbe made of great use. That black silk will be invaluable, and.... " Herethe widow, from the depths of her pocket, brought out four sovereigns. "She says she can give me more by-and-by, and I am to influenceFlorence. Of course I will. Do I envy the poor child her post? By nomeans. As Florence cannot occupy it, as well she as another. That she issetting her cap at that handsome Mr. Trevor there is no doubt; butperhaps Florence can win him over her head. We will see about that. Anyhow, I am not going to injure the poor, dear girl, and I shall tellFlorence so. "

Mrs. Aylmer felt far too excited to sit down. From the depths of povertyshe suddenly felt herself raised almost to a pinnacle of wealth, as sheestimated it. 

Four golden sovereigns and the faithful promise of one of Susan's bestsilk dresses. "There will be lots of odds and ends besides, " thought thelittle widow. "I am made! I am made! Now, if I only could! if I onlycould!"

As she considered the possibility of a very definite line of action, shestill continued to stand by the tiny window of the sitting room, andfrom this vantage-point she saw a young man in a grey tweed suitstrolling slowly in the direction of the sea-beach. 

"Mr. Trevor!" she said to herself; "Mr. Maurice Trevor, asgentlemanly-looking a young fellow as I have seen for many a day. Hereminds me of poor dear Florence's father. He had just that downrightsort of air, and he was fond of sticking his hands into his pocketstoo--yes, and he used to whistle, as I see that young fellow iswhistling. I am always told that whistling is a good sign: it shows agenerous disposition. If I am not greatly mistaken, that young manMaurice Trevor is generous and open-handed; he'll suit me. Now, if Icould only introduce them! Florence and Kitty Sharston are on thebeach--Mr. Trevor is going down to the beach. I'll go and take a walk. It is a fine evening, and it will do me good. "

No sooner had this thought come to Mrs. Aylmer than she bustled into thekitchen. 

"Well, ma'am, " said Sukey, in a cross voice, "have you washed up thetea-things yet? We're in a rare mull this afternoon with those two youngladies in the house, and I can't do more than I said I would do. Youpromised that the tea-things should be your care, ma'am; and are theywashed up? That's what I want to know. "

"Oh, my dear good Sukey, don't worry about the tea-things now, " saidMrs. Aylmer. "I am in no end of a flurry. A beautiful new black silkdress is promised to me, Sukey, and I am made in other ways too. Youwash them up, and I'll give you threepence; I will--I promise you. "

"You can't afford it, ma'am. What's the good of promising what youhaven't got?" said the obdurate Sukey. 

"I will; I declare I will, and I'll bring in something nice and tastyfor supper. You wash the tea-things, there's a good soul!"

Mrs. Aylmer scarcely waited for Sukey's very indignant reply. The nextmoment she was out of the house. 

She could walk quickly enough when she chose, and she knew every yard ofthe ground. Soon she was on the beach. Mr. Trevor was walking slowly infront of her. He was smoking a cigarette, his straw hat was pushedslightly forward over his blue eyes, his hands were still in hispockets, he was looking straight ahead of him, and as he slowlysauntered forward he was thinking. His thoughts were evidently not quiteto his taste, for he frowned now and then, and looked over the wideexpanse of sands, and occasionally he stood quite still. Thus Mrs. Aylmer found it easy to catch him up. She did so with a little patteringrun which was one of her characteristics. 

"Good evening, Mr. Trevor, " she said, in her cheerful tone. 

He started when she spoke to him, turned to look at her, and then tookoff his hat. 

"Good evening, " he said; "I did not recognise you at first. "

"No wonder, as you only saw me for the first time to-day. I am taking astroll; it is very pleasant here in the evenings, is it not?"

"Very pleasant! It is a charming place, " said Trevor. 

Mrs. Aylmer considered for a moment whether she should proceed on herwalk alone, or whether she should try to induce the young man toaccompany her. 

"I am looking for my girls, " she said; "they went down on the beachhalf an hour ago. Did you happen to see them, Mr. Trevor, as you werewalking?"

"I have only just come out. I have not seen anyone, " was his answer. 

"Are you quite sure? I _know_ they were going on the sands, my twogirls, my daughter and her friend. I should like to introduce you to mydaughter, Mr. Trevor. "

"I should be pleased to know her, " he answered, still speaking in thatvague sort of way which showed that he was thinking of something else. 

Mrs. Aylmer held both her hands before her eyes. Thus shaded from theevening sun, she was able to look long and steadily across the beach. 

"I do declare I believe those two are the very girls we are lookingfor, " she cried; "if you will come with me now (and I don't suppose youhave anything special to do) I'll introduce you. "

Trevor had, of course, no excuse to make. He was not interested in Mrs. Aylmer's daughter, nor in Mrs. Aylmer herself, but as well walk with heras alone. So the two stepped briskly across the sands. 

"It was the greatest possible pleasure to me to meet you to-day, "continued the little widow; "I am so glad that my poor sister-in-law hasa bright young fellow like you to look thoroughly after her affairs. "

"But I don't look after them, " he said; "Mrs. Aylmer has been extremelygood to me, but the person who manages her business affairs is that veryclever young lady, Miss Keys. "

"Oh, what a genius she is!" said Mrs. Aylmer; "a wonderful girl, quitecharming. "

"Do you think so?" answered Trevor. He looked at the little widow, andthe faintest dawn of an amused smile stole into his eyes. 

"Do I think so? I am immensely taken with her, " said Mrs. Aylmer. "Sheis, I know, the greatest comfort to my dear sister-in-law. Howsplendidly Susan wears, and how considerate she is! I don't know what Ishould do without her. Mr. Trevor, I will say it, you are a very luckyperson to be such a favourite. "

"Mrs. Aylmer has done a great deal for me, " said the young man; "she hasafter a fashion adopted me. "

"And you are very glad, are you not?"

"Yes, I am glad, " he replied. "Is that your daughter?" he continued, asif he wished to turn the conversation. 

"That is my dear daughter Florence. " Mrs. Aylmer spoke excitedly. 

Florence and Kitty Sharston were seated on the edge of a rock. Kitty waspoking with her parasol at some sea-anemones which were clinging to therock just under the water. Florence was gazing with a frown between herdark brows at her mother and the man who was by her mother's side. Ifshe could have fled, she would, but Mrs. Aylmer, who knew Florence'sways to perfection, now raised her voice to a shrill scream. 

"Stay where you are, Florence; I am coming to sit with you, so is Mr. Trevor; don't stir until we come up. "

Poor Florence's blush was so vivid that it was well it was too far offto be noticed. There was nothing for it, however, but to obey. Mrs. Aylmer came up in high good humour, and made the necessaryintroductions. 

CHAPTER VI. 

MRS. AYLMER'S STRATEGY. 

"Now, this is cosy, " said the widow, "quite what I call friendly. I lovethese impromptu little meetings; all the stiffness which generallysurrounds a first introduction must vanish when four human creaturesfind themselves face to face with Nature in her grandest aspects. Lookat those great rolling waves, Mr. Trevor, and tell me if you ever sawanything finer in its way. "

"Oh, mother, don't be a goose, " said Florence. Try as she would, shecould not help laughing. That laugh settled the matter. Trevor lookedinto her dancing eyes, noticed how white her teeth were, and, moving astep nearer, sat down by her side. 

"Do you know this place well?" he asked. 

"It has been my home for the greater part of my life, " was Florence'sreply. 

She felt inclined to be rude to Mr. Trevor. The man who was adopted byAunt Susan, who was doubtless the chosen and confidential friend ofBertha Keys, could surely have no interest for her! But Trevor had agentle and very polite manner. It never occurred to him that thissomewhat showy-looking girl could dislike his company. He wasgood-looking himself, and accustomed to being made much of and petted agood deal by women, and before many minutes had passed, Florence, inspite of herself, was chatting gaily with him. 

She forgot that her mother had manoeuvred in the most open and brazenway to secure this introduction; she forgot everything but the pleasureof talking to a fellow-creature, who seemed to understand hersentiments, and also to approve them. When a young man approves of agirl's ideas, when he likes to look into her face and watch the sparkleof her eyes, she must be one in a thousand if she does not find himagreeable, sympathetic, and all the rest. 

Presently Trevor suggested that he and Florence should go down on thebeach, cross some low-lying rocks, and find a certain pool, which at lowwater contained the most lovely of sea-anemones to be found anywhereround the coast. 

"Oh, come too, mother; come too, Kitty, " said Florence, as she jumped toher feet. 

"No, my dear, I am much too tired, " said Mrs. Aylmer. She clutched atKitty's skirt as the young girl was about to rise, and pulled her back, to her own astonishment. 

"Stay by me, Miss Sharston: I have much to say to you, " remarked thewidow. 

Accordingly Florence and Trevor, Florence well knowing that Kitty hadnot been allowed to come with her, started on their tour ofinvestigation alone. They found the sea-anemones and chatted about them, and Trevor asked Florence if she would like to begin to make acollection, and Florence began by saying "Yes, " but finally refused thetempting offer which Trevor made to help her in the matter. 

"I am going to London in a few days, " she said. 

"To London?" he asked; "now, in this broiling weather?"

"Yes; why not? Don't you like London in August?"

"I never care for London at any time--in August it is particularlydetestable, " was his reply. "We are going to stay here for a day or two. I think you know Miss Keys; she told me that you were an old friend ofhers. "

"She was at the same school with me years ago, " said Florence, flushingas she spoke. "Oh, do look at that beauty in the corner: a kind of darkelectric-blue. What a wonderful creature! Oh, and that rose-coloured onenear it! Sea-anemones are like great tropical flowers. "

Meanwhile Mrs. Aylmer was consulting with Kitty. 

"Shall we or shall we not ask him to supper?" she said. "What do youthink?"

"I am sure I don't know, " said Kitty. She looked at her companion withthose innocent, wide-open grey eyes, which were her greatest charm. 

"He has quite taken to Florence; don't you see for yourself?"

"Oh, yes; everyone takes to her, " replied Kitty, with enthusiasm; "sheis so nice and honest and downright. "

Mrs. Aylmer sighed. 

"She has had her troubles, poor child; but in the end things may comeround in a most wonderful way. Do you know, I like him very much?"

"Like who?" asked Kitty. 

"Really, Miss Sharston, you are a little silly--Mr. Trevor, Mr. MauriceTrevor, the adopted son of my wealthy sister-in-law, Susan Aylmer. "

"Oh, yes, " said Kitty; "I forgot that you were talking about him. "

"I was asking you, my dear, if you thought we might invite him to joinus at supper. "

"Why not?" said Kitty. 

"Well, Sukey's temper grows worse and worse. We were going to have avery small supper, not what you could put a man down to; but if he werecoming you and I might just whip round to the shrimp-shop and get alobster: lobster with a nice salad is what young men delight in; and wemight get a bottle of claret at the grocer's. If you would carry thelobster, I would bring the claret. It is an enormous expense to go to, but if in the end----"

"Oh, dear, " said Kitty, rising. She looked at Mrs. Aylmer, and thecolour rose in a delicate wave all over her pretty face. "Oh, I wouldnot, " she said; "I don't think Florence would like it--I am certain shewould not. Oh, you know her: she will be rude; don't do it, please, please don't. "

But if there was one person more determined than another to have her ownway, it was the little Mummy. She had only vaguely considered thepossibility of asking Mr. Trevor to partake of their humble meal whenshe first spoke of it; now that Kitty opposed it she made up her mindthat by hook or crook she would convey him to their house. What avictory it would be! Susan Aylmer, her rich sister-in-law, waiting andwondering why her handsome and fascinating young protégé did not appear:Bertha Keys finding her meal very dull without him: both these ladiestalking about him, and in their hearts of hearts longing for hissociety: and he all the time in the tiny cottage, partaking of thehumble fare of Mrs. Aylmer the less, with the naughty Florence close tohis side, and the fascinating Kitty not a yard off. Oh, it was worth astruggle!

Mrs. Aylmer rose to her feet. A good stiff wind was beginning to blow, and she staggered for a moment as it caught her stout little person. Then she raised her voice: "Florence!"

"Yes, mother, " said Florence, turning. She was a hundred yards away now, and Trevor was talking in a more fascinating way than ever aboutsea-anemones and their beauties. 

"If Mr. Trevor would come back to supper with us, we should be muchpleased to see him. I will expect you, dear, to bring him in, when youhave done your little preambulation. So pleased if you will join us, Mr. Trevor. "

All these words were shrieked on the sea-breeze. Florence made a replywhich did not quite reach her mother's ears. Mrs. Aylmer shouted oncemore, and then, seizing Kitty's hand, turned in the direction of thelittle town. 

"Now for the shrimp-woman and the grocer's shop, " she said; "we must beas quick as possible. Sukey will be in a flurry: but never mind: it isworth the effort. "

Poor Kitty had never felt more uncomfortable. Really there were timeswhen the little Mummy was almost unendurable. A lobster was chosen, quite a nice expensive one; Kitty was desired to go to the nearestgreengrocer's shop, in order to secure the crispest lettuce and half apound of tomatoes; the bottle of claret was also bought, and, ladenwith these spoils, the girl and the elder lady re-entered the tinycottage. 

"Now then, Sukey, " called out Mrs. Aylmer, "brisk is the word. I havecaught the most charming young man you ever heard of, and he is comingto supper with us. "

Sukey stared at her mistress. 

"What folly are you up to now, ma'am?" she asked. 

"No folly at all, my dear Sukey. Here's six-pence for you; don't sayanything about it. Make the salad as only you know how, and trim thelobster. I was considerate, Sukey, and I got things that really will notgive you trouble. Kitty, my dear sweet little girl, help me to arrangethe table. It will be supper in a bower--quite romantic. The young manwill enjoy it; I am certain he will. Dear Flo! what it is to have amother like me to look after her and see that she does not waste heropportunities. "

"But, " said Kitty, changing colour as she spoke, "do you reallymean----"

"I mean that mum's the word at present, " was Mrs. Aylmer's mysteriousremark. "Help me, Kitty Sharston, like a good girl, and for goodnesssake don't make yourself look too pretty to-night. I don't want him toturn his attention to you, I may as well say so frankly. "

Kitty earnestly longed for the moment when she should leave Mrs. Aylmer's cottage. 

The supper was prepared, however; everything was arranged; and then thetwo ladies stood by the window watching for the return of the truants, as Mrs. Aylmer was now pleased to call Florence and Mr. Trevor. 

Presently she saw her daughter coming up the somewhat steep path alone. 

"Flo, Flo, child, where is he? is he coming?"

"Oh, no, mother, " said Florence. 

"Did you give him my invitation?"

"I told him he was not to accept it, " said Florence. "Oh, dear me, mother, don't be silly. But, I say, what a nice lobster, and I am sohungry. "

CHAPTER VII. 

THE CHAINS BEGIN TO FRET. 

Meanwhile Trevor went slowly back to the hotel. He had enjoyed his talkwith Florence; he liked her brusque way, she did not flatter him, andshe was, he considered, a particularly attractive-looking girl. In Mrs. Aylmer's society he was made a great deal of and fussed over, and whenthat happens to a young man he always enjoys the sort of girl who snubshim by way of contrast. He thought Mrs. Aylmer the less one of the mostextraordinary women he had ever met; but as he liked Florence, and wasin the mood for a bit of an adventure, he would gladly have accepted hermother's invitation to supper if she had not tabooed it. 

"You are not to come, " said Florence, looking at him with her wide-openfrank dark eyes; "mother is the soul of hospitality, but we are verypoor: we have nothing proper to give you for supper, and I for one wouldmuch rather you did not come. "

"I do not in the least mind what I eat, " he said, in a somewhat pleadingtone, and he looked full at Florence with his blue eyes. 

"Nevertheless, you are not to come; it is only my mother's way: shealways goes on like that with strangers. I never allow people to accepther invitations. "

After this there was nothing more to be said, and Florence and Trevorbade each other a very friendly good-bye. 

When Trevor reached the "Crown and Garter" he found that Mrs. Aylmer andMiss Keys were already at dinner. They had both wondered where he was, and Bertha Keys had been a little anxious and a little uneasy. When hecame in, the faces of both ladies brightened. 

"What makes you so late?" said Mrs. Aylmer, looking up at him. 

"I had a bit of an adventure, " he said. He drew his chair to the table. "There was a slight chance of my not coming in to supper at all, " hecontinued. "I met that charming little lady who visited you to-day, Mrs. Aylmer. "

"What?" said Mrs. Aylmer, dropping her knife and fork. 

"I met her again, and she introduced me to her daughter and to anotheryoung lady who is staying with them. By the way, they are yourrelations, so the little lady told me, and she was very hospitable, andinvited me to supper, and I should have been very glad to go if theyoung lady had not told me that I must not accept her mother'sinvitation. "

Now, these remarks were anything but agreeable to Mrs. Aylmer, and stillless did they suit Bertha Keys. Neither lady said anything, however, atthe present moment, but each glanced at the other. After a time, Mrs. Aylmer stretched out her hand and touched Trevor on his sleeve. 

"I am sorry you have made the acquaintance of Miss Florence Aylmer, " shesaid. 

"Sorry? Why?" he asked. "I consider her a remarkably nice girl. "

"I regret to have to inform you that she is anything but a nice girl. Iwill tell you about her another time. It is quite contrary to my wishesthat you should have anything to do with her: you understand?"

Trevor flushed. He had a way of looking annoyed at times, and he lookedannoyed now. His silken chains sometimes fretted him a great deal. Heoften wondered whether he had done right in allowing himself to becomeMrs. Aylmer's adopted son. Bertha, however, gave him a warning glance, and he said nothing. 

Presently dinner was over, and Bertha beckoned to him to join her on thebalcony. 

"Shall we go out on the sands?" she said. "I have something I want tosay to you. "

"But Mrs. Aylmer has something to say to me also--something about thatparticularly nice girl, Miss Florence Aylmer. "

"She will not say it to you to-night; she has a headache, and Ipersuaded her to go early to bed. I quite sympathise with you, too, about Florence; she is one of my greatest friends. "

Trevor gave Bertha a grateful glance. 

"I am so glad you like her, " he said. "I was never yet mistaken aboutanyone, and I took to her frank ways. She looks like the sort of girlwho will never deceive you. "

Bertha gave a peculiar smile, which vanished almost as soon as itvisited her face. 

"Shall we meet, say, in twenty minutes, " she said, "just by the pier? Imust see Mrs. Aylmer to bed; but I can join you then. "

"Very well, " he answered. 

Bertha left the balcony, and Trevor, lighting a cigar, tried to soothehis somewhat ruffled feelings. He had never liked Mrs. Aylmer less thanhe did at that moment. 

"It is horrid when a woman runs down a girl, " he said to himself; "suchbad form, and, as to this girl, it is impossible Mrs. Aylmer can knowanything against her. "

Presently he looked at his watch, and prepared to keep his appointmentwith Bertha. He liked Bertha Keys very much; she was always jolly andgood-tempered, and she often tried to smooth over matters when there wasany little difference between himself and Mrs. Aylmer. When he reachedthe pier he found her waiting for him. It was a moonlight night, and theyoung couple began to pace up and down. 

"What is it?" he said at last. "Have you anything special to say?"

"I know you are in a bad humour, and I am not surprised, " she said. 

"Listen, Miss Keys, " said Trevor. He dropped his cigar, and turned andfaced her. "I often feel that I cannot stand this sort of thing muchlonger: it is like being in chains. I would much rather talk the matterout with Mrs. Aylmer, tell her I am very much obliged to her for herkind intentions with regard to me, but that I would sooner carve out myown career in life and be indebted to no one. "

"And how silly that would be!" said Bertha. "But what do you want Mrs. Aylmer to do?"

"To let me go. I feel like a captive in her train; it is not manly. Inever felt more annoyed than when she spoke to me as she did thisevening. It is horrid when a woman abuses a girl--such bad taste. "

"You know how peculiar she is, " said Bertha; "but you suit her betterthan anyone I know. You want her to give you money to allow you to livein town. I am sure I can manage it. I quite understand that you musthate being tied to her apron-strings. "

"It is detestable, " said the young man; "and if it were not for my ownmother, who seems so happy about me, and so grateful to Mrs. Aylmer, Ishould break with her to-morrow. "

"I quite sympathise with you, " said Bertha. "You must have money, andyou must go to town. You want to read for the Bar: I will see that it isarranged. Mrs. Aylmer is rich, but not rich enough for you to live allyour life in idleness. It would break her heart now if you deserted her:she has gone through much. "

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot tell you. "

"Why does she dislike Miss Florence Aylmer?"

"I would rather not say. "

"But she will tell me herself. "

"I shall beg of her not to do so. "

"By the way, " said Trevor, after a pause, "is this girl Mrs. Aylmer'sniece?"

"She is her niece by marriage. Mrs. Aylmer's husband was FlorenceAylmer's uncle. "

"Then in the name of all that is just, " cried Trevor impetuously, "whyshould I have the fortune which is really meant for Florence Aylmer?Oh, this is unendurable, " he cried; "I cannot stand it. I will tell Mrs. Aylmer to-morrow that I am obliged to her, but that I will not occupy afalse position. "

"You will do fearful harm if you make such a remark, " said Bertha. "Something very sad happened a few years ago, something which I cannottell you, but----" Bertha's lips quivered and her face was very pale. 

"What is it? Having told me so much, you must go on. "

Bertha was silent for a moment. 

"What has Miss Aylmer done? If there is a frank, open-hearted, nice-looking girl, she is one. I do not care so much for her mother, butMiss Aylmer herself--I defy anyone to throw a stone at her. "

"I own that she is a nice girl, a very nice girl; but once, once--well, anyhow, she managed to offend Mrs. Aylmer. You must not ask me forparticulars. I want you to be most careful; that is why I have broughtyou out here to-night. I want you to be most careful to avoid thesubject with Mrs. Aylmer. Florence offended her, and she has resolvednever to see her and never to speak to her again. She is annoyed at yourhaving made her acquaintance, and I doubt not we shall leave Dawlishto-morrow on that account. Be satisfied that Florence only did whatperhaps another girl equally tempted would have done, but it was----"

"It was what? The worst thing you can do is to throw out innuendoesabout a girl. What did she do?"

"She was not quite straight, if you must know--not quite straight abouta prize which was offered in the school where she was being educated. "

"She told me that you were a teacher in the same school. "

"Did she?" said Bertha. Her face turned pale, but her companion was notlooking at her at that moment. "Ah, yes, poor girl: that is how I happento know all about it. It was hushed up at the time, and of courseFlorence has quite retrieved her character. It was nothing whatever butwhat a girl tempted as she was would do, but it settled her as far asMrs. Aylmer was concerned, and if you do not wish to bring fresh troubleupon the niece you will avoid the subject with her aunt. That is what Iwished to say to you. "

"How can I avoid it? It is quite impossible for me to be long with Mrs. Aylmer and prevent her speaking about what she has made up her mind totell me. "

"I have been thinking of that, " said Bertha; "the very best thing youcan do is to go up to London to-morrow morning. "

"I go to London to-morrow?"

"Yes; go away for the present. I will tell her that you have had suddennews of your mother: that she wants to see you; or you can leave her anote to that effect. "

"But it would not be true. " Trevor darted a keen glance at hiscompanion. 

Bertha coloured again. 

"It is difficult to manage with people who are as quixotically straightas you are, " she said, after a pause; "I want you to keep away for yourown sake. If what I have suggested does not please you, think ofsomething else. "

"I will tell her that I wish for a change: that is true enough, " heanswered; "but how will that help me? When I come back, she will tell methe thing you do not wish me to hear about Miss Aylmer. "

"Oh, I never said I did not wish you to hear it: I think it would bebetter for your peace of mind not to hear it: that is all. I have saidthat it was a little shady: that it happened years ago: that Florencehas quite retrieved her character. "

Trevor stamped his foot impatiently. 

"I will not go away to-morrow, " he said, after a pause. "I should liketo see Miss Florence Aylmer again. I will ask her to tell me franklywhat occurred some years ago. "

"You will?" said Bertha, and now her face looked frightened. 

"Yes, " he answered, looking full into her eyes; "I will. She isperfectly honest. She can excuse herself if necessary. Anyhow, she shallhave the chance of telling her own story in her own way. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

BERTHA'S QUANDARY. 

It was by no means the first time that Bertha Keys had found herself ina quandary. She was very clever at getting out of these tight corners:of extricating herself from these, to all appearances, impossiblesituations; but never had she been more absolutely nonplussed than atthe present moment. 

When she and Florence had both left Cherry Court School her prospectshad been dark. She had been dismissed without any hope of a character, and had, as it were, to begin the world over again. Then chance put Mrs. Aylmer the great in her way. Mrs. Aylmer wanted a companion, a clevercompanion, and Bertha was just the girl for the purpose. She obtainedthe situation, managing to get references through a friend, taking careto avoid the subject of Cherry Court School, and never alluding toFlorence Aylmer. 

Mrs. Aylmer was very sore and angry just then. She disliked Florenceimmensely for having disgraced her; she did not wish the name ofFlorence Aylmer to be breathed in her presence; she was looking aroundanxiously for an heir. With Bertha Keys she felt soothed, sympathisedwith, restored to a good deal of her former calm. By slow degrees shetold Bertha almost all of her history; in particular she consulted withBertha on the subject of an heir. 

"I must leave my money to someone, " she said; "I hate the idea of givingit to charities. Charity, in my opinion, begins at home. "

"That is does, truly, " answered Bertha, her queer green-grey eyes fixedon her employer's face. 

"And Florence Aylmer being completely out of the question, " continuedMrs. Aylmer, "and Florence's mother being about the biggest fool thatever breathed, I must look in another direction for my heir. "

"Why not adopt a boy?" said Bertha, on one of these occasions. 

"Adopt a boy? a boy?"

"Well, a young man, " said Bertha, colouring. 

"What a very extraordinary idea!" was Mrs. Aylmer's response. She lookedwithering things at Bertha, and this young lady found herself more orless in disgrace for the next few days. Nevertheless, the idea tookroot. Mrs. Aylmer, having found girls failures, began to think that allthat was desirable might be encompassed in the person of a boy. 

"It would be nice to have a boy about the house. They were cheerfulcreatures. As they grew to be men, they were more or less a protection. Boys, of course, had none of the small ways of girls. A deceitful boywas a creature almost unknown. "

So Mrs. Aylmer thought, and she began to look around for a suitable boyto adopt and leave her money to. No sooner did she seriously contemplatethis idea than the opportunity to adopt a very special boy occurred toher. She had an old friend, a great friend, a woman whom as a girl shehad really loved. This woman was now a widow: she was a certain Mrs. Trevor. She had married an army man, who had died gloriously in battle. He had won his V. C. Before he departed to a better world. His widow hada small pension, and one son. Mrs. Trevor happened just about this verytime to write to Mrs. Aylmer. She told her of her great and abidingsorrow, and spoke with the deepest delight and admiration of her boy. 

"Send Maurice to spend a week with me, " was Mrs. Aylmer's telegraphicreply to this epistle. 

In some astonishment, Mrs. Trevor packed up her boy's things--he was alad of eighteen at this time--and sent him off to visit Mrs. Aylmer inher beautiful country place. 

Maurice Trevor was frank, innocent, open as the day. He pleased thewidow because he did not try to please her in the least. He liked BerthaKeys because all apparently amiable people suited him, and Berthacertainly did look distinctly amiable. Soon she got into his confidence, and he talked of his future. He wanted to go into the army, as hisfather had done before him. Bertha suggested that he should tell hisdesire to Mrs. Aylmer. This Maurice Trevor would not think of doing. Hespent a week, a fortnight, a month with the widow, and went back to hismother, having secured a great deal more than he bargained for in thecourse of his visit. 

Mrs. Aylmer now wrote to Mrs. Trevor, said that she liked Maurice verymuch, that she had no heir to leave her money to, and that if Mauricereally turned out quite to her satisfaction she would make him herfuture heir. He must live with her during the holidays; he must give uphis mother's society, except for a very short time in the year; he mustbe thoroughly well educated; must, on no account, enter the army; andmust have a University education. 

These terms, generous in themselves, were eagerly accepted by the allbut penniless widow. She had some difficulty, however, in persuadingyoung Trevor to, as he expressed it, sell his independence. In the endher wishes prevailed. He went to Trinity College, Cambridge, tookhonours there, and now at four-and-twenty years of age was to a certainextent his own master, and yet was more tied and fettered than almostany other young man he knew. To tell the truth, he hated his ownposition. Mrs. Aylmer was capricious; she considered that he owed herundying gratitude: that he should only do what she wished. He had littleor no control of her affairs, Bertha Keys being the true mistress. 

At the time when this story opens he felt that he could scarcely standhis silken fetters any longer. 

 * * * * *

Bertha, as she stood now in the moonlit window of her little room at the"Crown and Garter, " thought over Maurice Trevor, his future prospects, and his past life. She also thought about Florence. 

"From the way he spoke to-night, " thought this astute young woman, "very, very little would make him fall in love with Florence. Now, thatis quite the very last thing to be desired. It would be a sort ofrevenge on Mrs. Aylmer, but it cannot be permitted for a single moment. They must not meet again. There are several reasons against that. In thefirst place, it would not suit my convenience. I mean to inherit Mrs. Aylmer's property, either as the heiress in my own person or as the wifeof Maurice Trevor. It is true that I am older than he, but I have threetimes his sense: I can manage him if another girl does not interfere. Hemust leave here immediately. I must make some excuse. His mother is notquite so quixotic as he is; I must manage things through her. One thing, at least, I am resolved on: he must not hear the story of Florence--atleast, not through Florence herself: he must not meet her again, andMrs. Aylmer must not tell him the story of what occurred at Cherry CourtSchool. "

Bertha thought a very long time. 

"If he really falls in love with Florence, then he must no longer beMrs. Aylmer's heir, " she said to herself; "but he shall not meet her. Ilike him: I want him for myself; when the time comes, I will marry him. He shall not marry another woman and inherit all Mrs. Aylmer'sproperty. "

Bertha stayed up for some time. It was between two and three in themorning when at last she laid her head on her pillow. She had gonethrough an exciting and even a dangerous day, but that did not preventher sleeping soundly. Early in the morning, however, she rose. She wasdressed before seven o'clock, and waited anxiously for eight o'clock, the time when she might send off a telegram. She procured a telegraphform and carefully filled it in. These were the words she wrote:--

 "Make some excuse to summon Maurice to London at once. Must go. Will explain to you when writing. Do not let Maurice know that I have telegraphed. --BERTHA KEYS. "

This telegram was addressed to Mrs. Trevor, Rose View, 10 St. Martin'sTerrace, Hampstead. Punctually as the clock struck eight, Bertha wasstanding at the telegraph-office; it was so early that she knew the linewould be more or less clear. She sent off her telegram and returned witha good appetite to breakfast. 

At about ten o'clock a telegram arrived for Trevor. He was eating hisbreakfast in his usual lazy fashion, and was inwardly wondering if hecould see Florence again: if he could lead up to the subject of theschool where she had suffered disgrace: and if she herself would explainto him that which was making him far more uncomfortable than theoccasion warranted. 

"A telegram for you, " said Bertha, handing him the little yellowenvelope. He opened it, and his face turned pale. 

"How queer!" he said; "this is from mother; she wants me to come upto-day: says it is urgent. What shall I do, Miss Keys?"

"Why, go, of course, " said Bertha; "here is Mrs. Aylmer. Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor has had an urgent telegram from his mother. She wants to seehim. "

Mrs. Aylmer looked annoyed. 

"I wanted you to come with me this morning, Maurice, " she said, "on anexpedition to Warren's Cove. I thought you might drive me in a ponycarriage. "

"I can do that, " said Bertha, in her brisk way. 

"Of course you can, my dear, if Maurice feels that he really mustgo. --When can you be back again?"

"I will try and return to-morrow, " said Trevor; "but, of course, itdepends on what really ails mother. From the tone of her telegram Ishould say she was ill. "

"And I should say nothing of the kind, " answered Mrs. Aylmer shortly;"she is one of those faddists who are always imagining that theyrequire----"

"Hush!" said Trevor, in a stern voice. 

"What do you mean by 'hush?'"

"I would rather you did not say anything against my mother, please. "

He spoke with such harshness and such determination that Bertha trembledin her shoes, but Mrs. Aylmer gave him a glance of admiration. 

"You are a good boy to stand up for her, " she said; "yes, go, by allmeans: only return to me, your second mother, as soon as you can. "

"Thanks, " he answered, softening a little; but the gloomy look did notleave his face. 

"I will walk with you to the station, Mr. Trevor, " said Bertha, whothought that he required soothing, and felt that she was quite capableof administering consolation. 

"Thanks, " he replied; "I shall ask the station porter to call for myportmanteau. "

CHAPTER IX. 

A TEMPTING OFFER. 

By the next train Bertha saw Maurice Trevor off to London. When she haddone so, she went slowly in the direction of the sands. She had inducedMrs. Aylmer to put off her drive until the afternoon. Bertha was nowvery anxious to see Florence. 

In all probability Florence would be on the beach: she would know thatBertha was coming to get the answer which Florence had not given her theday before. She walked slowly, holding her parasol up to shade her facefrom the sun, and thinking her thoughts. 

"At any rate, Maurice Trevor is safe for the day, " she said to herself;"and before the evening has passed, I shall have Florence's promise thatshe will not betray me to Mrs. Aylmer. Mrs. Aylmer is just the sort ofperson, if Florence made the worst of things, to turn against me andtake Florence back again. Then indeed, she would be avenged, and Ishould be routed. Such a state of things cannot be. "

Bertha thought quickly. Her thoughts turned to a little account whichwas weekly swelling in importance, and which stood to her credit in thePost Office Savings Bank. She was intensely fond of money, but she knewthat the time had come when it might be necessary to sacrifice some ofher savings. Presently she gave a well-assumed start; said: "Hullo, Flo, is that you?" and went to meet Florence Aylmer. 

Florence's face was quite pale, and her eyes were red as if she had beencrying. 

"Goodness!" said Bertha; "what does this mean? Have you had any domesticcalamity since I saw you last?"

"No, not any except what you are making, " replied Florence. "I wish youwould go away, Bertha: I hate to see you again. I wish you would leaveme in peace. "

"Well, darling, we return to Aylmer's Court to-morrow, so you will notbe long worried by us. I have just been seeing that nice young fellow, Maurice Trevor, off to town. "

"Indeed, " answered Florence. 

"Don't you like him extremely?" continued Bertha, giving her companion aquick glance. 

"I scarcely know him, " replied Florence. 

"But you do just know him. How did you become acquainted with him?"

"My mother introduced him. "

"Ah! just like the little widow, " said Bertha, in a thoughtful voice. "Well, Flo, you and I have a good deal to say to each other. Let us walkto the other end of the sands, where we shall be alone. "

Florence hesitated. For a moment she looked as if she were going torefuse; then she said, in an almost sulky tone: "Very well. " They turnedin that direction and walked slowly. At last they reached the spot whereMrs. Aylmer had discovered Kitty and Florence the day before. 

"It was here I first saw him, " thought Florence Aylmer to herself. "What a true, good expression he had in his blue eyes. How upright helooked! How different from Bertha! Oh, what a miserable wretched girl Iam! Why do I not tell Bertha that I do not fear her? Why should I putmyself in her power?"

At last they reached the rocks. 

"It is nice here, and quite romantic, " said Bertha; "we can come to ourlittle arrangement. You have made up your mind, of course, Florence, that you will not speak to Mrs. Aylmer of what you know about me?"

"I do not see why I should keep your secret for you, " said Florence; "Ido not particularly want to injure you, much as you injured me in thepast; but at the same time why should I make a promise about it? Thetime may come when it will be to my benefit to tell Mrs. Aylmer what Iknow. "

"At the present moment she would not speak to you. She hates you as shehates no one else in the world. Your very name is as a red rag to her. If I want to rouse her worst passions, I have but to allude to you. Evenif you told her, she would not believe a word against me. "

"I am not so sure of that. Mrs. Aylmer may be forced to listen to me, and if you rouse my evil feelings I may tell her just to spite you, Bertha. "

"But you will not, " said Bertha. "You want money badly. You would liketo be independent. "

"That is quite true. "

"You have had a fairly good education and you want to earn your ownliving?"

"I mean to earn it. "

"But you will require a little money until you do. Now, look here, Florence: I don't want to injure you. I know I did long ago; I did itfor my own benefit. I was cast penniless on the world, and I was forcedto invent all kinds of subterfuges to make my way. I pity girls who areplaced as I was placed. I have now managed to get into a comfortablenest. As I said before, I am in your nest. It suits me, and I do notmean to go out of it; but I pity you, and I should like to help you. Will you borrow a little money from me?"

"Borrow money from you? No, no, " said Florence; but she trembled as shesaid the words. 

"I can quite conveniently lend you fifty pounds, " continued Bertha, gazing as she spoke across the summer sea. "It is not much, but it issomething. With fifty pounds in your pocket you can go, say to London orto any other large town and advertise what you are worth. You have, Ipresume, something to sell: some knowledge, for instance, which you canimpart to others; or perhaps you have a talent for writing. Don't youremember our wonderful essay?"

"Don't!" said Florence; "don't!" She covered her face with her hands;the crimson colour had flooded her face. 

Bertha gave a queer smile. 

"Now, I could earn money by writing essays, " she said; "very smartessays they would be, and I could earn money by writing stories. Suppose, suppose I write stories still, and send them to you, and youpublish them as your own--how would that do? Why should you not? I likewriting stories, and I do not want money, and you could polish them upif you liked and sell them as your own. That is an excellent idea. Willyou do it? I am quite agreeable. I will furnish you with a short story, say, once a fortnight, or once a month. Will you take one with you andtry to sell it as your own? I can do it in the evenings, and you shallhave it. Don't you think that I am paying you well, now, to keepsilence? I am offering you an honourable livelihood, and in the meantimethere is the fifty pounds: you may as well have it; it will keep youuntil the money for the stories comes in, and you can pay me back whenyou like. I dare not appear before the world as a writer, for Mrs. Aylmer is hard to please, and she would not like me to write or to doanything but devote my time to her; but there are hours at night whenshe goes to bed which I can devote to your service. Now, what do yousay? It seems to me to be a very good offer. "

"It is a tempting offer, certainly, " said Florence; "but I never thoughtof writing. I have no particular taste for it. "

"Well, think it over, " said Bertha, rising as she spoke, "and in themeantime I will send you the money this evening. "

"Oh, I cannot take it; please don't. "

"I will send it to you, " said Bertha, in a gay voice; "it is quitearranged. Good-bye, dear; I wish you success. When you are a greatwriter we can cast up accounts and see on which side the balance lies. You quite understand? I have a gift in that way which I think can beturned to account. You will agree to do what I wish, will you not, Florence?"

"It is all horrible! I do not know what to say, " answered Florence. 

"I see in your eyes that you mean to accept; you cannot help yourself. You cannot possibly starve, and you will find when you go to London thatthe posts of teachers and secretaries are overfull; but the writer ofclever short stories can always find a market for his or her wares. "

Florence rose to her feet. 

"I don't like it, " she said; "I am thoroughly miserable. I wish therewere some other way; but there is not. "

"Well, try for yourself before you think of the story part; but, anyhow, you must take the fifty pounds--you really must. "

Bertha rose, touched Florence lightly on her cheek, and before the othergirl could say a word turned and left her. She walked across the beachnow with a dancing step. 

"I have scored a point, " she said to herself; "Florence won't dare totell. She is as certain to accept that fifty pounds as she is to eat herbreakfast to-morrow morning. After all, I am very generous to her; but Isee my way, I think, to win Maurice Trevor. I see my way to preventthese two becoming friends, and at the worst, if Maurice does meetFlorence again, and does fall in love with her, I shall take good carethat he is not Mrs. Aylmer's heir. It is but to alter her will and heighpresto! the riches are mine!"

CHAPTER X. 

THE LITTLE MUMMY'S CURIOSITY. 

Florence did not return to the cottage until past the usual dinner hour. When she did so, her mother, who appeared to be very much excited, mether in the porch. 

"There has come a little parcel for you, " she said, "from the 'Crown andGarter Hotel. ' I wish you would open it; I am quite curious: it issealed. The messenger did not want to leave it when I told him that youwere out. He said it had been given him by Miss Keys to bring to you, and that he was to give it into your hands. I wonder what it can be?"

"Oh, it is nothing of importance, " said Florence, turning quite pale. "Give it to me, please, mother. "

"Nothing of importance, indeed!" said the little widow, tossing herhead; "it seemed to me very much of importance. The messenger was quitefussed when he found you were not here: he said perhaps he had bettertake it back, but I assured him that I did not lose things when theywere addressed to my only daughter, and that he might safely trust me toput the parcel into your hands. He was one of the waiters from thehotel--a very stylish-looking person indeed. What riches and what luckfollow some people! Why should Miss Keys have everything and my poorgirl be left out in the cold?"

"Oh, mother, I would not change with Bertha Keys for anything, " saidFlorence; "but give me the parcel, please. "

"Here it is; you'll open it and assuage my curiosity. "

"It is only a letter from Bertha; I quite know what it contains, " saidFlorence. She got red first and then pale. Her mother's bright beadyeyes were fixed on her face. 

"Well, but can't you open it and tell me about it? You know howcuriosity does eat into me: I can't sleep, I can't enjoy my food whenthere's a secret surrounding me. What's in the letter, Flo? If you aretoo tired to read it just now, I will open it for you. "

"No, thank you, mother; I know what it contains: it is a message fromMiss Keys. I met her on the sands this morning and--and she said shewould write. "

With a wild fluttering at her heart, Florence popped the sealed packetinto her pocket and sat down near the door. 

"I am thoroughly tired, " she said, "and my head aches. "

Mrs. Aylmer appeared to be annoyed and disappointed. 

"I do declare, " she exclaimed, "I don't think any of the girls of thepresent day have health worth mentioning. There's Kitty: she's beenfretting and fuming because you went out without her; she's a nice, refined sort of little thing, but she has a headache, and now afterpreparing the very nicest little dinner out of the scraps which thatyoung man ought to have eaten last night, you never came in to partake. I had lobster salad of the most recherché description, and you were notpresent, while Kitty could scarcely eat because of her headache, so Ihad to do justice to the mayonnaise myself; and now you come in lookingwashed out and wretched. I do declare, " she concluded, "things are morecomfortable for me when Sukey and I are alone. "

"Well, mother, I shall be leaving you shortly. I shall probably be goingto London to-morrow or next day. "

"So soon, after arranging to spend the holidays with me?"

"I have changed my mind about that now, " said Florence restlessly; "Imust work and begin to earn money. "

"I have not a penny to give you to start with, you understand that. "

"I have a little money, " said Florence, and her face coloured and thenturned pale: "I think I can manage. "

"I wonder how, " thought the widow. She glanced at Florence, but did notspeak: a shrewd expression came into her eyes and she pursed up herlips. 

"I will go and coax Sukey to make a cup of coffee for you, " she said:"there is nothing like really strong coffee as a cure for a headache, and you can have some bread-and-butter. I am sorry to say I can affordnothing else for your dinner to-day. "

"Oh, coffee and bread-and-butter will do splendidly, " said Florence. 

Her mother left the room. A moment later Kitty came down. 

"Flo, " she said, "I have just received a letter from father; he willreach Southampton to-morrow and I am to go and meet him there. Won't youcome too?"

"Oh, may I go with you?" said Florence, sensibly brightening. 

"May you? Of course you may; it will be so splendid to see him again, and you must constantly stay with me--constantly, Flo dear. Oh, I am sohappy, so happy!"

CHAPTER XI. 

FLORENCE'S GOOD ANGEL. 

"What is the matter, Flo?" said Kitty. The two girls were in their tinybed-room. They were to leave Dawlish the next morning, as Kitty hadpersuaded Florence to go with her to Southampton in order that theymight both be present when Colonel Sharston once more set foot on hisnative land. 

Kitty was very much excited, but she was too gentle and noble a girl, too absolutely unselfish, not to notice that her companion was distraitand anxious. No one could be much more worried than poor Florence wasthat evening. 

All during the long day which had followed she had kept saying toherself: "Shall I or shall I not? Shall I take that fifty pounds fromBertha and put myself in her power for ever, or shall I return her themoney, fight my way to fortune with the weapons which God has given me, and not descend to her temptations?"

One moment Florence had almost made up her mind to choose the rightpath, but the next instant the thought of the struggle which lay beforeher and the terrible adventures which any girl must meet who fights theworld without money rose to weaken her resolve. It would be so easy toaccept that fifty pounds, and Bertha would scarcely dare to ask her torepay it. She would at least have plenty of time to collect the moneybit by bit, and so return it to Bertha; but Florence knew well that ifonce she took that money she would lower herself forever in the moralscale. 

"I should sink again to that sort of awful thing I was just before mygreat temptation at Cherry Court School, " she thought. "I have managedto rise above that level now, and am I going to sink again?"

So she wavered all day long, the pendulum of her mind now swinging toone side, now to another. The result was that she felt quite worn outwhen night came. 

"What is it?" said Kitty. "What is worrying you?"

"Oh, never mind, " answered Florence. The tears rose to her eyes, shepressed her hands for a moment to her face, then she said abruptly:"Don't ask me. "

"I will ask you. I have seen all day that you are wretched; you musttell me what has gone wrong with you. "

"I am tempted, that is all, " said Florence. 

"Then do not yield to the temptation, " was Kitty's answer; "if it issomething you would rather not say to me----"

"No, Kitty, I must not tell you, but I am tempted strongly, " answeredFlorence. 

"The only thing to do, however hard the temptation, is not to yield toit, " said Kitty. 

Florence looked for a moment at her companion. Kitty, too, had knownwhat it was to want for money. Kitty had been poor. It is true that, since the day she took the prize which Florence through deceit had lost, her kind friend, Sir John Wallis, had never ceased to shower smallbenefits upon her. She was not only his pet, but almost his idol. Inhis heart of hearts he felt that he would like to adopt her, but he didnot dare even to suggest such a thing, knowing how passionately she wasattached to her father. 

Now Colonel Sharston was returning to England, having been appointed toan excellent home post, and Kitty's money troubles were quite at an end. 

"She will want for nothing in the future, " thought Florence to herselfas she looked at the graceful figure and bright beautiful face of theyoung girl who was standing a short distance away. "She will want fornothing: she will never know the real heartache of those who have toearn their daily bread. How can she understand?"

"Why are you looking at me like that, Flo?" said Kitty. 

"Oh, I don't know; I don't know. I--sometimes I envy you. You have richand powerful friends. "

"Then it is money: I thought as much, " said Kitty. "Listen to me, Florence. I am sure I can guess what is troubling you. That dreadfulBertha wants to bribe you to be silent: she has offered you money. "

Florence's face turned quite pale. 

"Give it back to her; you shall, you must! I know father will help youwhen he comes back. I will speak to him. You must not yield, Flo; youmust not. "

Florence stood irresolute. 

"It is not too late, " said Kitty. "We are both leaving here early in themorning. Has she sent you any money now?"

"Yes, " said Florence. Her voice scarcely rose to a whisper. The wordtrembled on her lips. 

"Then we will return it to her. You must not take it. "

"It is too late: I have taken it. "

"It is not too late. What is the time? It is only half-past ten. I amquite certain that Miss Keys is not in bed yet. Come, Flo, put on yourhat; your mother won't mind. We will take the latchkey and let ourselvesin. We will go to the hotel and return the money. "

"Oh, I dare not. "

"Then I dare, " said Kitty. "You have told me nothing, remember; but Iwill not let you sink or yield to this temptation. "

Florence colored crimson. 

"You have a great power over me, " she said; "I feel as if you were mygood angel, and Bertha were my bad. "

"Then for heaven's sake, Florence, yield to the entreaties of your goodangel. Come, come; the hotel won't be shut up. Where is the money?"

"In my pocket. "

"Then come immediately. "

Florence was inspired by Kitty, whose voice was strong, and her facebrave and bright, as befitted one who lived for the right and rejectedthe wrong. 

"I am glad, " she said to herself; "I did not ask her counsel: she hasforced it upon me. She is my good angel. "

A moment later the two girls left the cottage. They walked quickly inthe direction of the big hotel. There were lights in many rooms, servants walking about, and the hall-door was open. They walked up thesteps, and Kitty entered the hall. Florence followed her, pale andtrembling. 

"Can I see Miss Keys?" asked Kitty of the hall porter. 

"I will enquire if Miss Keys is up still, " replied the man. "What nameshall I say?"

"Miss Sharston. I want to see her for a moment about somethingimportant. "

"Will you come in, Miss?"

"No; perhaps she would see me here. Say also that Miss Florence Aylmeris with me. "

The man withdrew. A moment later, Bertha, in her evening dress, lookingpretty and excited, ran downstairs. 

"What is it? What's the matter?" she said. "Is that you, Florence?Kitty, what is the matter?"

"We don't want to stay; we don't want you to tell Mrs. Aylmer, and wedon't want to get you into trouble of any sort, " said Kitty, speakingrapidly and drawing Bertha aside as she spoke. "But we want to give youthis back, and to let you know that what you suggested wasimpossible--quite impossible. "

As she spoke, she thrust the little packet which contained the fiftypounds into Bertha's hand, and then took Florence's. 

"Come, Flo; I think that is all, " she said. 

Bertha was too stunned to say a word. Before she had recovered from herastonishment, the two girls had walked down the steps and gone out intothe night. 

"What does this mean?" said Bertha to herself. "I don't like it at all, but, thank goodness, we are leaving here to-morrow. I don't supposeFlorence will really tell on me. I must discover some other way to gether into my power. "

She went slowly back to the sitting-room. Mrs. Aylmer looked updiscontentedly. 

"Who called to see you? I didn't know you had any friends in the town, Bertha?" she said. 

"Nor have I, but a couple of young girls who are staying here called toreturn me a little packet which I had dropped on the beach to-day andlost. They found it; my name was on it, and they brought it back to me. "

"Oh, indeed; I thought I heard the waiter say that Miss Florence Aylmerhad called. "

"You were mistaken, Mrs. Aylmer, " replied Bertha, in her calm voice. Shefixed her grey-green eyes on the widow's face, and took up the bookwhich she had been reading. 

"Shall we go on with this, or shall we have a game of two-handedpatience?" she said quietly. 

"I will go to bed, " said Mrs. Aylmer; "I am tired and cross. After all, my life is very dull. You didn't manage to amuse me to-day, Bertha; youwere not like your old self; and then I miss Maurice. He has becomealmost indispensable to me. I hope he will return to-morrow. "

"We shall probably find him before us at Aylmer's Court. "

"I shall send him a telegram the first thing to-morrow to ask him tohurry home, " said Mrs. Aylmer. "He is such a pleasant, bright fellowthat life is insupportable without him. You used to be much more amusingthan you are now, Bertha. Is anything the matter?"

"Nothing, my dear friend, " said Bertha. She looked full at Mrs. Aylmer, and tears rose slowly to her eyes. Now, no one could possess a morepathetic face than Bertha when she pleased. Mrs. Aylmer was not agood-natured woman, she was not kind-hearted, she was not in any senseof the word amiable, but she had certain sentiments, and Bertha managedto arouse them. When she saw tears in her young companion's eyes now, she laid her hand on her arm. 

"What is it, dear? I should be sorry to be cross with you. You are avery good girl and suit me admirably. "

"It was just the fear that I was not quite suiting you that wastroubling me, " replied Bertha. "Say that again, kind, dear benefactress, and you will make me the happiest girl in the world. "

"No one ever suited me so well. You are surely not jealous of myaffection for dear Maurice?"

"Oh, no; I love him myself, " said Bertha. 

Mrs. Aylmer looked grave. She rose slowly. 

"Ring for my maid, will you, Bertha? I shall go to bed; I am tired, "said the great lady. 

The maid appeared a moment later, and the two left the room together. AsMrs. Aylmer slowly undressed, she thought of Bertha's last words: "Ilove him myself. "

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Aylmer to herself; "she is ten years his senior ifshe's a day; nevertheless, I must be careful. She is a clever woman; Ishould be sorry to have to do without her, but I often wonder what herpast was. I made very few enquiries with regard to her history. I wantedsomeone to be with me at the time, and she took my fancy. "

Downstairs Bertha slowly unfastened the little parcel and looked at thefive ten-pound notes which were rolled up within. 

"After all, it's just as well that I should have this money by me asthat I should give it to Florence Aylmer, " she said to herself. "I mustthink of some other way to tempt her, and the money will be useful. Ishall put it back into the post-office and wait awhile. She is certainto go to London, and equally certain to fail. I can tempt her with someof my stories. I will manage to get her address. Yes, clever as youthink yourself, Florence, you will be in my power, and before many weeksare over. "

CHAPTER XII. 

ALONE IN LONDON. 

Florence and Kitty left Dawlish the next day and went to Southampton. There they met Colonel Sharston, and Florence had the great bliss ofseeing Kitty's intense happiness with her father. They stayed at a hotelat Southampton for the best part of a week, and then the three went toLondon. Kitty and her father were going to Switzerland for a month'sholiday. They begged of Florence to go with them, but nothing wouldinduce her to accept the invitation. 

"I know well that Colonel Sharston even now is far from rich, " she saidto herself. "I will not let Kitty feel that I have put myself upon her. "

So very firmly she declined the invitation, and one short week after shehad bidden her mother good bye at Dawlish she found herself alone inLondon. She had seen Kitty and Colonel Sharston off by the night trainto Dover, and left the great railway-station slowly and sadly. 

"Now I have to fight the battle. Shall I fail or shall I succeed?" shesaid to herself. 

She had taken a bed-room in a large house which was let out in smallrooms. It was one of the first houses that had been let out in flats forwomen in London, and Florence considered herself very fortunate in beingable to take up her quarters there. There was a large restaurantdownstairs, where the girls who lived in the house could have theirmeals provided at low prices. 

Florence's bed-room was fairly neat, but very small and sparselyfurnished. It was an attic room, of course, for she could only affordthe cheapest apartment. She had exactly twenty pounds wherewith tosupport herself until fortune's ball rolled her way. She felt confidentenough. She had been well educated; she had taken certain diplomas whichought to enable her to get a good situation as a teacher; but if therewas one thing which poor Florence disliked it was the thought ofimparting knowledge to others. If she could obtain a secretaryship orany other post she would certainly not devote her life to teaching. 

"It behooves me to be sensible now, " she thought; "I must look around meand see what is the best thing to do. "

That evening, after the departure of Kitty and her father, she retiredto her bed-room. She had bought a little tea, sugar, bread, and butter, and she made herself a small meal. The prices at the restaurant werevery moderate, but Florence made a calculation that she could live for alittle less by buying her own food. 

"I will dine at the restaurant, " she thought, "and make my own breakfastand get my own supper. I must make this twenty pounds go as far aspossible, as I do not mean to take the first thing that offers. I amdetermined to get a secretaryship if I can. "

That evening she wrote a long letter to her mother, and another to SirJohn Wallis. She told Sir John that she was preparing to fight thebattle in London, and gave him her address. 

"I am determined, " she said in the letter, "not to eat the bread ofdependence. I am firmly resolved to fight my own way, and the money youhave given me is, I consider, a stepping-stone to my fortunes. "

She wrote frankly and gratefully, and when Sir John read the letter hedetermined to keep her in mind, but not to give her any further help forthe present. 

"She has a good deal of character, " he said to himself, "although shedid fall so terribly six years ago. "

Mrs. Aylmer the less also received a long letter from Florence. It waswritten in a very different vein from the one she had sent to Sir John. Mrs. Aylmer delighted in small news, and Florence tried to satisfy herto her heart's content. She told her about Kitty's dresses and Kitty'shandsome bonnets and all the different things she was taking for herforeign tour. 

She described her own life with the Sharstons during the few days shehad spent with them at a London hotel, and finally she spoke of herlittle attic up in the clouds, and how economical she meant to be, andhow far she would make her money go, and how confident she was that inthe future she could help her mother; and finally she sent the littleMummy her warmest love, and folded up the letter and put it into itsenvelope and posted it. 

That letter brought great delight to Mrs. Aylmer. It was indeed what sheconsidered a red-letter day to her when it arrived, for by parcel postthat very same day there came a large packet for her from Bertha Keys, sent straight from Aylmer's Court. This packet contained a wardrobewhich set the little widow's ears tingling, and flushed her cheeks, brightened her eyes, and caused her heart, as she expressed it, to boundwith joy. 

"Oh, Sukey, come and look; come and look!" she cried, and Sukey ran fromthe kitchen and held up her hands and uttered sundry ejaculations as shehelped her mistress to turn over the tempting array of garments. 

"There's the silk dress. What a dear girl!" cried Mrs. Aylmer. "Isn't ita perfectly splendid dress, Sukey? We must get it cut down, of course;and the extra breadths will do to renovate it when it gets a littleshabby. I shall give a tea-party, I really will, Sukey, when this dressis made as good as new. I am quite certain that I can spare you my oldblack silk, which you know, Sukey, has been turned four times. "

"Thank you, ma'am, " said Sukey, in her downright voice. "And what newsis there from Miss Florence, please, ma'am?"

"Oh, there is a letter. I have just had time to read it. It is a verynice, pleasant letter; but really Florence is the sort of girl who doesnot know where her bread is buttered. If she had been anybody else shewould have made up to that young man instead of sending him away when Iinvited him in to supper. Florence is a great trial to me in many ways, Sukey. "

"If I was you, ma'am, I'd be thankful to have such a good, nice, downright young lady like Miss Florence, that I would, " said Sukey. "Butdon't keep me any longer now, please, ma'am. I'll go and make you a cupof cocoa: it's quite as much as you want for your dinner to-day. You'reso new-fangled with your bits of clothes. "

"That I am, " said Mrs. Aylmer the less, as Sukey hurried out of theroom. 

Amongst the clothes, lying by itself, was a thick envelope. Mrs. Aylmertore it open. There tumbled out of it two golden sovereigns. 

"Dear, dear!" thought the widow; "my sister-in-law Susan must bechanging her mind to send me all these lovely clothes and this money;but stay: the writing is not in Susan's hand--it is doubtless the handof that charming young creature, Miss Keys. "

Bertha's letter ran as follows:--

 "DEAR MRS. AYLMER--

 "I have collected a few things which I think may prove useful, in especial the silk dress which you seemed so much to covet. I also send two sovereigns, as I think you will like to have the funds to pay the dressmaker for cutting it down to your figure. Please use the sovereigns in any way you think best. 

 "I have a little request to make of you, dear Mrs. Aylmer. I am not likely to come to Dawlish again, but I am much interested in your dear daughter Florence, and would be greatly obliged if you would favor me with her address in London. Will you send it to me by return of post, and will you put it into the addressed envelope which I enclose, as I do not want my benefactress Mrs. Aylmer to know anything about this matter? If I can help you at any time pray command me. 

 "Yours sincerely, "BERTHA KEYS. "

Mrs. Aylmer was so excited by this letter, and by the fact that shepossessed two sovereigns more money than she had done when she awokethat morning, that she could scarcely drink the cocoa when Sukeyappeared with it. 

"Sukey, " she exclaimed to that worthy woman, "it never rains but itpours. We _will_ have a tea-party: such a tea-party it shall be; done instyle, I can assure you. All the neighbours who have ever shown anykindness to me shall be invited, and we will have the most recherchélittle set-out. I will go to Crook's, in the High Street, and order thecakes and the pastry and the sandwiches, and we will hire enough cupsand saucers and tea-spoons and all the other things which will benecessary. "

"You had better begin by hiring an increased apartment, ma'am, " saidSukey, in a dubious voice. "I don't say nothing against this parlour, but it ain't to say large. How will you crowd in all the visitors?"

"It is fashionable to have a crowded room, " said Mrs. Aylmer, pausingfor a moment to consider this difficulty. "People can stand and sit onthe stairs; they always do in crushes. This is to be a crush and--"

"How will you pay for it, ma'am?"

"I tell you I have money. What do you say to these?"

As Mrs. Aylmer spoke, she held a sovereign between the finger and thumbof each hand. 

Sukey opened her eyes. 

"Is it your sister-in-law, ma'am, " she said, "that is changing hermind?"

"No, it is not; I wish it were. I can tell you no more, you curious oldbody; but when both our silk dresses are made to fit us we will have theparty. "

Sukey went softly out of the room. 

"There's something brewing that I don't quite like, " she said toherself. "I wish Miss Florence was at home! I wish the missus hadn'tthose queer mean ways! But there, when all's said and done, I havelearned to be fond of her: only she's a very queer sort. "

That evening Mrs. Aylmer wrote to Bertha Keys thanking her effusivelyfor the parcel, telling her that she felt that she owed her lovely silkdress to her, and further thanking her for the sovereigns. The letterran as follows:--

 "I am not proud, my dear; and a little extra money comes in extremely handy. I mean to give a party and to show my neighbours that I am as good as any of them. It will be a return for many little kindnesses on their part, and will ensure me a comfortable winter. I shall have so many invitations to tea when they see me in that silk dress, and eat the excellent cakes, muffins, and crumpets, etc. , which I shall provide for them, that they won't dare to cut me in the future. 

 "If you want dear Florence's address, here it is--12, Prince's Mansions, Westminster. She has taken a room in a sort of common lodging-house, and I understand from the way she has written to me that she is in one of the attics. It seems a sad pity that the dear child should pinch herself as she does, and if you, Miss Keys, could add to your other virtues that of effecting a reconciliation between Florence and her aunt by marriage, you would indeed fill my cup of gratitude to the brim. 

 "Yours sincerely, "MABEL AYLMER. "

 "P. S. --If by any chance that most charming young man, Mr. Maurice Trevor, should be coming to Dawlish, I shall always be pleased to give him a welcome. You might mention to him where Florence is staying in London. He seemed to have taken quite a fancy to her, but mum's the word, my dear. Mothers will have dreams, you know. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

A WEARY WAIT. 

Florence settled down in her attic, and made herself as comfortable ascircumstances would permit. 

With all her faults, and she had plenty, Florence had a straightforwardsort of nature. She was alive to temptation, and when occasion rose, ashas been already seen, could and did yield to it. But just now she wasmost anxious to eat the bread of independence, not to sink under thesway of Bertha Keys, to fight her own battle, and to receive her ownwell-earned reward. 

She made her little attic look as neat and cheery as she could; she wasextremely saving with regard to her food, and set to work at once tryingto obtain employment. 

Now, Florence honestly hated the idea of teaching. She was a fairlyclever girl, but no more. She had certain aptitudes and certain talents, but they did not lie in the teacher's direction. For instance, she wasno musician, and her knowledge of foreign languages was extremely small;she could read French fairly well, but could not speak it; she had onlya smattering of German, and was not an artist. Her special forte wasEnglish history and literature, and she also had a fair idea of some ofthe sciences. 

With only these weapons in hand, and the sum of twenty pounds in herpocket, she was about to fight the world. 

She herself knew well, none better, that her weapons were small and herchance of success not particularly brilliant. 

With a good heart, however, she started out from her lodging on themorning after her arrival in town. 

She went to a registry-office in the Strand and entered her name there. From this office she went to two or three in the West End, and, havingput down her name in each office and answered the questions of the clerkwho took her subscription, returned home. 

She had been assured in four different quarters that it was only amatter of time; that as soon as ever the schools began she would getemployment. 

"There is no difficulty, " one and all said to her. "You want to get ateacher's post; you are quite sure to succeed. There will be plenty ofpeople requiring assistance of all sorts at the schools when theholidays are over. "

"What shall I do in the meantime?" said Florence, who knew that severalweeks of the holidays had yet to run. 

"In the meantime, " said all these people, "there is nothing to do butwait. "

Florence wondered if she had really left her mother too soon. 

"It would have been cheaper to stay on with the little Mummy, " she saidto herself; "but, under the circumstances, I could not stay. I dared notleave myself in Bertha's power. August is nearly through, and theschools will open again about the 20th of September. By then I shallsurely hear of something. Oh, it is hateful to teach; but there is nohelp for it. "

Accordingly Florence returned home in as fair spirits as was to beexpected. 

She wrote and told her mother what she had done, and resolved to spendher time studying at the British Museum. 

There were not many people yet in London, and she felt strange andlonely. A great longing for her old school life visited her. Shewondered where her schoolfellows had gone, and what they were doing, andif they were also as hard pressed as she was. 

Her money seemed to her to be already melting away in a remarkably rapidmanner. She wanted new boots and a neat new serge dress, and thought shemight as well get these necessary articles of apparel now, while she waswaiting for a situation, as later; but, although she bought boots at thevery cheapest place she could find, her funds melted still further, andbefore September was half through she had spent between five and sixpounds of her small stock of money. 

"This will never do, " she said to herself; "I shall get so frightenedthat I shall become nervous. What am I to do? How am I to eke out themoney till I get a post as teacher?"

It was already time for different mistresses at schools to be applyingto her for her valuable services; but, although she listened with abeating heart as she heard the postman run up the stairs and depositletters in the different hall doors of the various flats, very seldomindeed did the good man come up as far as her attic, and then it was aletter from her mother. 

She decided to go again to the offices where she had entered her name, and enquire if there were any post likely to suit her which she couldapply for. She was now received in a totally different spirit. 

"It is extremely unlikely, miss, " said one and all of the clerks who hadbeen so specious on the occasion of her first visit, "that we can getyou anything to do. You are not a governess, you know, in the ordinarysense. You cannot teach music, nor languages, nor drawing. What can youexpect, madam?"

"But you told me, " began poor Florence, "you told me when I paid my feeon the previous occasion of calling that you could get me a post withoutthe slightest difficulty. "

"We will do our utmost, of course, madam; but, with your want ofexperience, we can make no definite promise. We certainly made none inthe past, " and the clerk whom Florence was interrogating gave her asevere glance, which was meant as a dismissal. 

"If you cannot get me anything to do as a teacher, is there nothing elseyou can think of to suit me? Secretaries are sometimes employed, arethey not?"

"Secretaryships are not in our line, " said the clerk; "at least, not forladies. People prefer men for the post--clever men who understandshorthand. You, of course, know nothing of that accomplishment?"

"Certainly not! Girls never learn shorthand, " said Florence. 

She left one office after the other, feeling sadder and sadder. 

"What is to be done?" she said to herself, almost in tones of despair. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A BLUNT QUESTION. 

Florence was returning slowly home by way of Trafalgar Square when sheheard a voice in her ear. She turned quickly, and was much astonished tosee the bright face and keen blue eyes of Maurice Trevor. 

"I thought it must be you, " exclaimed the young man. "I am glad to seeyou. You passed me in a hurry just now, and never noticed me, so I tookthe liberty of following you. How do you do? I didn't know you were intown. "

"I have been in town for over a fortnight, " replied Florence. She foundherself colouring, then turning pale. 

"Is anything the matter? You don't look well. "

"I am tired, that is all. "

"May I walk part of the way home with you? It is nice to meet an oldfriend. "

"Just as you please, " replied Florence. 

"Where do you live?"

"I am in a house in Westminster--12, Prince's Mansion, it is called. Itis a curious sort of place, and let out in rooms to girls like myself. There is a restaurant downstairs. It is a nice, convenient place, and itis not dear. I think myself very lucky to have a room there. "

"I suppose you are, " assented Trevor, "but it sounds extraordinary. Doyou like living alone in London?"

"I have no choice, " replied Florence. 

"I was sorry not to have seen you again before we left Dawlish. We had agood deal in common, had we not? That was a pleasant afternoon that wespent together looking at the sea-anemones. "

"Very pleasant, " she answered. 

"And how is your mother, Miss Aylmer, and that nice young friend--Iforget her name. "

"Mother is quite well. I heard from her a few days ago; and KittySharston is abroad. "

"Kitty Sharston: that is a pretty name. "

"And Kitty is so pretty herself, " continued Florence, forgetting heranxieties, and beginning to talk in a natural way. "She is one of thenicest girls I have ever met. Her father has just returned from India, and he and she are enjoying a holiday together. But now, may I ask yousome questions? Why are you not with Mrs. Aylmer and Bertha Keys?"

"I have not been at Aylmer's Court for some days. My mother has not beenquite well, and I have been paying her a visit. But do tell me moreabout yourself. Are you going to live altogether in London?"

"I hope so. "

"What a pity I didn't know it before! Mother would so like to know you, Miss Aylmer. I have told her something about you. Won't you come and seeher some day? She would call on you, but she is quite an old lady, andperhaps you will not stand on ceremony. "

"Of course not. I should be delighted to see your mother, " saidFlorence, brightening up wonderfully. "I have been very lonely, " sheadded. 

"When I go home to-night I will tell mother that I have met you, and shewill write to you. Will you spend Sunday with us?"

"Shall you be at home?"

"Yes; I am not going back to Aylmer's Court until Tuesday. I will askmother to invite you. I could meet you and bring you to Hampstead. Wehave a cottage in a terrace close to the heath; you will enjoy the airon Hampstead Heath. It is nearly as good as being in the country. "

"I am sure it must be lovely. I am glad I met you, " said poor Florence. 

"You look better now, " he answered, "but please give me your addressover again. "

As Trevor spoke, he took a small, gold-mounted note-book from hispocket, and when Florence gave him the address he entered it in a neathand. 

"Thank you, " he said, putting the note-book back into his waistcoatpocket. "You will be sure to receive your invitation. You look morerested now, but you still have quite a fagged look. "

"How can you tell? How do you know?"

"I have often watched that sort of look on people's faces. I take agreat interest in--oh! so many things, that I could talk to you about ifwe had time. I am very sorry for Londoners. I should not care to live inLondon all my life. "

"Nor should I; but, all the same, I expect I shall have to. Perhaps Iought to tell you, Mr. Trevor, quite frankly that I am a very poorgirl, and have to earn my own living--that is why I am staying in aplace like Prince's Mansions. I have an attic in No. 12, a tiny room upin the roof, and I am looking out for employment. "

"What sort of employment? What do you want to do?" asked Trevor. 

"I suppose I shall have to teach, but I should like to be a secretary. "

"A secretary--that is rather a wide remark. What sort of secretary?"

"Oh, I don't know; but anything is better than teaching. It is justbecause a secretaryship sounds vague that I think I should like it. "

Trevor was thinking to himself. After a moment he spoke. 

"Do you mind my asking you a very blunt question?"

Florence gave him a puzzled glance. 

"What sort of a question? What do you mean?"

"Are you not Mrs. Aylmer's niece?"

"Your Mrs. Aylmer's niece?"

"Yes. "

"I am her niece by marriage. Her husband was my father's brother. "

"I understand; but how is it she never asks you to Aylmer's Court nortakes any notice of you?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you. "

"Cannot? Does that mean that you will not?"

"I will not, then. "

Trevor flushed slightly. They had now nearly reached Westminster. 

"Here is a tea-shop, " he said; "will you come in and have tea with me?"

Florence hesitated. 

"Thank you. I may as well, " she said then slowly. 

They entered a pretty shop with little round tables covered with whitecloths. That sort of shop was a novelty at that time. 

Trevor and Florence secured a table to themselves. Florence was veryhungry, but she restrained her appetite, fearing that he would notice. She longed to ask for another bun and a pat of butter. 

"Oh, dear, " she was saying to herself, as she drank her tea and ate herthin bread-and-butter, "I could demolish half the things in the shop. Itis perfectly dreadful, and this tea must take the place of another meal. I must take the benefit of his hospitality. "

A few moments later Trevor had bidden her good-bye. 

"My mother will be sure to write to you, " he said. 

She would not let him walk with her as far as her lodgings, but shookhands with him with some pleasure in her face. 

"I am so glad I met you, " she repeated, and he echoed the sentiment. 

As soon as he got home that day he went straight to his mother. 

"You are better, are you not?" he said to her. 

Mrs. Trevor was a middle-aged woman, who was more or less of an invalid. She was devoted to her son Maurice, and, although she delighted infeeling that he was provided for for life owing to Mrs. Aylmer'sgenerosity, she missed him morning, noon, and night. 

"Ah, darling, it is good to see you back again, " she said; "but you lookhot and tired. What a long time you have been in town!"

"I have had quite an adventure, " he said. "Mother, I want to know if youwill do something for me. "

"You have but to ask, Maurice. "

"There is a girl"--he hesitated, and a very slight accession of colourcame into his bronzed cheeks, "there is a girl I have taken rather afancy to. Oh, no, I am not the least bit in love with her, so don'timagine it, little mother; but I pity her, and like her alsoexceedingly. I met her down at Dawlish. I want to know if you will begood to her. I came across her to-day whilst walking in town, and shewas looking, oh! so fagged out and tired! I said you would write andinvite her to come and see us here, and I promised that you would askher to spend next Sunday with us. "

"Oh, my dear Maurice, your last Sunday with me, God only knows for howlong!"

"But you don't mind, do you, mother?"

She looked at him very earnestly. She was a wise woman in her way. 

"No, I don't mind, " she said; "I will ask her, of course. "

"Then that is all right. Her name is Miss Florence Aylmer, and this isher address. "

"Aylmer! How strange!"

"It is all very strange, mother. I cannot understand it, and it troublesme a good deal. She is Florence Aylmer, and she is my Mrs. Aylmer'sniece by marriage. "

"Very queer, " said Mrs. Trevor; "I never thought Mrs. Aylmer had anyrelations. What sort of girl did you say she was?"

"Not exactly handsome, but with a taking face and a good deal of pluckabout her--and oh, mother, I believe she is starvingly poor, and she hasto earn her own living, I made her have a cup to tea and somebread-and-butter to-night, and she ate as if she were famished. It'sawfully distressing. I really don't know what ought to be done. "

CHAPTER XV. 

EDITH FRANKS. 

When Florence reached home she sat down for a long time in her attic, and did not move. She was thoroughly tired, and the slight meal she hadtaken at the restaurant had by no means satisfied her appetite. Afterabout half an hour of anxious thought, during which she looked far olderthan her years, she took off her hat, and, going to her tiny chest ofdrawers, unlocked one of them and took her purse out. She carefullycounted its contents. There were twelve unbroken sovereigns in thepurse, and about two pounds' worth of silver--nearly fourteen pounds inall. 

"How fast it is going!" thought the girl. "At this rate it will not seeme through the winter, and, if those terrible people at the differentregistry-offices are right, I may not get any work during the wholewinter. What shall I do? I will not go back to the little Mummy, to liveupon her and prove myself a failure. I shall not ask anybody to help me. I must, I will fight my battle alone. Oh, this hunger! What would I notgive for a good dinner. "

She took up one of the shillings, and looked at it longingly. With thisin her hand, she could go down to the restaurant and have as much foodas she required. Suddenly she made up her mind. 

"I must eat well for once. I must get over this hunger. I cannot helpmyself, " she said to herself. "This meal must last me the greater partof the week; to-morrow and the next day and the next I must do with abread-and-butter dinner; but there is Sunday to be thought of--Sundaywith that nice Mr. Trevor, Sunday with the country air all around, andof course plenty to eat. If I can have a good dinner to-night, I can gowithout another at least till Sunday. "

So, hastily putting back the rest of her money, and locking her drawer, she went downstairs to the restaurant. She went to a table where she hadsat before, and ordered her meal. She looked at the _menu_ and orderedher dinner with extreme care. She could have anything she fancied on the_menu_ for a shilling. A good many girls had really excellent andnourishing meals for sixpence, but Florence was so hungry she determinedto be, as she expressed it, greedy for once. So she made her selection, and then sat back to wait as best she could for the first of the dishesto arrive. 

A girl with a rosy face and bright dark eyes presently came and took theseat opposite to her. She was a stranger to Florence. The waitress cameup and asked what the girl would like to have for dinner. 

"Soup, please, and a chop afterwards, " was the hasty reply. 

The waitress went away, and the girl, taking a German book out of herbag, opened it and began to read eagerly. She did not notice Florence, who had no book, and was feeling in a very excited and fractious humour, becoming feverishly anxious for her dinner. Presently Florence droppedher napkin-ring, making a little clatter as she did so. The girl seatedopposite started, stopped, and picked it up for her. 

"Thank you, " said Florence. 

There was something in her tone which caused the strange girl to dropher German book and look at her attentively. 

"Are you very tired?" she said. 

"Tired, yes, but it does not matter, " answered Florence. 

"It is the hot weather, " said the girl; "it is horrid being in town now. I should not be, only--" She paused and looked full at Florence, thenshe said impulsively: "You will be somewhat surprised: I am going to bea doctor--a lady doctor. You are horrified, no doubt. Before ten yearsare out there will be women doctors in England: they are much wanted. "

"But can you, do they allow you to study in the men's schools?"

"Do they?" said the girl; "of course they don't. I have to go to Americato get my degree. I am working here, and shall go to New York early inthe spring. Oh, I am very busy, and deeply interested. The whole thingis profoundly interesting, fearfully so. I am reading medical books, notonly in English, but also in French and German. Do you mind if I go onreading until dinner arrives?"

"Of course not. Why should you stop your studies on my account?" saidFlorence. 

The girl again favoured her with a keen glance, and then, to Florence'ssurprise, instead of continuing her reading, she immediately closed herbook and looked full across at her companion. 

"Why don't you read?" said Florence, in a voice which was almost cross. 

"Thank you; I have found other employment. "

"Staring at me?"

"Well, yes; you interest me. You are _fearfully_ neurotic and--andanæmic. You ought to take iron. "

"Thank you, " said Florence; "I don't want anything which would make memore hungry than I am at present. Iron is supposed to promote appetite, is it not?"

"Yes. Do you live in this house?"

"I do, " answered Florence. 

"I have taken a room on the third floor, No. 17. What is your number?"

"Oh, I aspire a good bit, " said Florence, with the ghost of a smile;"the number of my room is 32. "

"May I come and see you?"

"No, thank you. "

"What a rude girl! You certainly are _fearfully_ neurotic. Ah! herecomes--no, it's not my dinner, it is yours. "

The soup Florence had ordered was placed before her. How she wished thisbright-eyed girl, with the rude manner, as she considered, would resumeher German. 

"Would you like me to go on reading?" said the girl. 

"You can please yourself, of course, " answered Florence. 

"I won't look at you, if that is what you mean; but I do wish, if I maynot come to see you, that you will come to see me. There are so fewgirls at present in the house, and those who are there ought to makefriends, ought they not? See: this is my card--Edith Franks. "

"And you really mean to be a doctor--a doctor?" said Florence, notglancing at the card which her companion pushed towards her. 

"It is the dearest dream of my life. I want to follow in the steps ofMrs. Garrett Anderson; is she not noble? I thought you would bepleased. "

"I don't know that I am; it does not sound feminine, " replied Florence. She was devouring her soup, and hating Edith Franks for staring at her. 

Presently Edith's own dinner arrived, and she began to eat. She ate in aleisurely fashion, sipping her soup, and breaking her bread into smallportions. She was not very hungry; in fact, she was scarcely hungry atall. 

As Florence's own quite large meal proceeded, she began to considerherself the greediest of the greedy. 

Miss Franks sat on and chatted. She talked very well, and she had plentyof tact, and soon Florence began to consider her rather agreeable thanthe reverse. Florence had ordered five distinct dishes for her dinner, and she ate each dish right through. Miss Franks was now even afraid toglance in her direction. 

"There is no doubt the poor soul was starving, " she said to herself. 

At last Florence's meal was over. The two girls left the table together. 

"Come to my room, won't you, to-night? It is not seven o'clock yet. Ialways have cocoa between nine and ten. Come and have a cup of cocoawith me, will you not?"

"Thank you, " said Florence; "you are very good. My name is FlorenceAylmer. "

"And you are studying? What are you doing?"

"I am not studying. "

"Aren't you? Then--"

"You are full of curiosity, and you want to know why I am here, " saidFlorence. "I am here because I want to earn my bread. I hope to get asituation soon. I am a girl out of a situation--you know the kind. " Shegave a laugh, and ran up the winding stairs to her own attic at the topof the house, without glancing back at Edith Franks. 

"Shy, poor, and half-starved, " said the medical student to herself; "Ithought my work would come to me if I waited long enough. I must lookafter her a little bit. "

Meanwhile, the very first thing Florence found when she entered her roomwas a letter, or, rather, a packet, lying on her table. She pounced uponit, as the hungry pounce on food. Her appetite was thoroughly satisfiedat last, and her mind was just in the humour to require some diversion. She thought that she would rather like having cocoa presently with MissFranks. 

"She shall not patronise me; of that I am resolved, " thought the proudgirl. But here was a letter--a thick, thick letter. She flung herselfinto the first chair and tore it open. She glanced, a puzzled expressionon her face, at pages of closely-written matter, and then picked up asingle sheet, which had fallen from the packet. The letter was fromBertha Keys, and ran as follows:--

 "MY DEAR, GOOD, BRAVE FLO--

 "I have obtained your address, no matter how, no matter why, and I write to you. How are you getting on? You did a daring thing when you returned you know what; but, my dear, I respect you all the more for endeavouring to be independent. I think, however, it is quite possible that you may have considered my other suggestion. 

 "Now, Flo, I should like to see myself in print--not myself as I am, but my words, the ideas which come through my brain. I long to see them before the world, to hear remarks upon them. Will you, dear Flo, read the tale which I enclose, and if you think it any good at all take it to a publisher and see if he will use it? You had better find an editor of a magazine, and offer it to him. It is not more than four thousand words in length, and it is, I think, exciting; and will you put your name to it and publish it as your own? I don't want the world to know Bertha Keys writes stories, but I should like the world to know the thoughts which come into her head, and if we make a compact between us there can be nothing wrong in it, and--but I will add no more. Do, do, dear Flo, make use of this story. I do not require any money for it. Make what use of it you can, and let me know if I am to send you further MSS. 

 "Your aunt, Mrs. Aylmer, is a little more snappish than usual. I have a hard time, I assure you, with her. My great friend, Maurice Trevor, returns, I think, in a day or two. Ah, Florence, you little know what a great, great friend he is!

 "Yours affectionately, "BERTHA KEYS. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

ON THE BRINK OF AN ABYSS. 

Florence sat for a long time with the manuscript of Bertha's story onher lap. Having read the letter once, she did not trouble herself toread it again. It was the sort of letter Bertha always wrote--the letterwhich meant temptation, the letter which seemed to drag its victim tothe edge of an abyss. 

Florence said to herself: "Shall I read the manuscript or shall I not?Shall I put it into the fire or shall I waste a couple of pence inreturning it to Bertha, or shall I--"

She did not finish even in her own mind the last suggestion which formeditself in her brain. She had not read the title of the manuscript, buther thoughts kept wandering round and round it to the exclusion ofeverything else. Presently she took it in her hand, and felt its weight, and then she turned the pages one by one, and glanced at them for amoment, and saw that they were all written out very neatly, in a sort ofcopper-plate writing which was not the least like Bertha's. Bertha had abold, dashing sort of hand, but this hand might be the work ofanyone--the ordinary clerk used such a handwriting. The words were veryeasily read. Florence caught herself imbibing the meaning of a wholesentence; then, with a sudden, quick movement, she dashed themanuscript away from her to the other side of the room, and walked overand stood by the open window looking across London. She had a headache, brought on through intense excitement, and the view, for the greaterpart concealed by the interminable London houses, scarcely appealed toher. 

"It all looks worldly and sordid, " thought the girl to herself. "Isuppose it is very nice that I should have this peep across thosechimney-tops, and should see those tops of houses, tier upon tier, faraway as the skyline, but I am sick of them. They all look sordid. Theyall look cruel. London is a place to crush a girl; but I--I _won't_ becrushed. "

She paced up and down her room. There was not the slightest doubt thatBertha's letter was the one subject of her thoughts. Suddenly she cameto a resolution. 

"I know what I'll do, " she said to herself; "I won't read thatmanuscript, but I'll get Miss Edith Franks to read it. I won't tell herwho has written it; she can draw her own conclusions. I'll get her toread it aloud to me, and perhaps she will tell me what it is worth. Ihope, I do hope to God that it is worth nothing--that it is poor andbadly written, and that she will advise the author to put it into thefire, and not to waste her time offering it to a publisher. She shall bethe judge of its merits; but I won't decide yet whether I shall use itor not--only she shall tell me whether it is worth using. I am sure itwon't be worth using. Bertha wrote a clever essay long ago, but she doesnot write much, and she must be out of practice; and why should she beso clever and able to do everything so well? But Miss Franks shalldecide. She looks as if she could give one a very downright honestopinion, and she is literary and cultivated, and would know if the thingis worth anything. Yes, it is a comfort to come to some decision. "

So Florence washed her face and hands, made her hair tidy, and put on afresh white linen collar, and soon after nine o'clock, with themanuscript in her hand, she ran downstairs, and presently knocked at thedoor of No. 17. The brisk voice of Miss Franks said: "Come in!" andFlorence entered. 

"That is right, " said Edith Franks; "I am right glad to see you. What doyou think of my diggings--nice, eh?"

"Oh, you are comfortable here, " said Florence, with the ghost of a sigh, for truly the room, as compared with her own, looked absolutelyluxurious. There was a comfortable sofa, which Miss Franks told herafterwards she had contrived out of a number of old packing-cases, andthere was a deep straw armchair lined with chintz and abundantlycushioned, and on a table pushed against the wall and on the mantelpiecewere jars full of lovely flowers--roses, verbena, sweetbriar, andquantities of pinks. The room was fragrant with these flowers, andFlorence gave a great sigh as she smelt them. 

"Oh, how sweet!" she said. 

"Yes; I put this verbena on the little round table near the sofa; youare to lie on the sofa. Come: put up your feet this minute. "

"But I really don't want to, " said Florence, protesting, and beginningto laugh. 

"But I want you to. You can do as you please in the restaurant, and youcan do as you please in your own diggings, but in mine you are to do asI wish. Now then, up go your feet. I am making the most delicious cocoaby a new recipe. I bought a spirit-lamp this morning. You cannot thinkhow clever I am over all sorts of cooking. "

"But what are those things on that table?" said Florence. 

"Oh, some of my medical tools. I do a tiny bit of dissecting now andthen--nothing very dreadful. I have nothing to-night of the leastimportance, so you need not shudder. I want to devote myself to you. "

Florence could not but own that it was nice to be waited on. The sofamade out of packing-cases was extremely soft and comfortable. MissFranks put pillows for her guest's comfort and laid a light couvre-piedover her feet. 

"Now then, " she said, "a little gentle breeze is coming in at thewindow, and the roses and pinks and mignonette will smell more sweetlystill as the night advances. I will not light the lamp yet, for there issplendid moonlight, and it is such a witching hour. I can make the cocoabeautifully by moonlight. It will be quite romantic to do so, and thenafterwards I will show you my charming reading-lamp. I have a lamp witha green shade lined with white, the best possible thing for the eyes. Iwill make you a shade when I have time. Now then, watch me make thecocoa, or, if you prefer it, look out of the window and let the moonsoothe your ruffled feelings. "

"You are very kind, and I don't know how to thank you, " said Florence;"but how can you possibly tell that I have ruffled feelings?"

"See them in your brow, my dear: observe them in your face. I am not amedical student for nothing. I tell you you are anæmic and neurotic;indeed, your nerves have reached a rare state of irritability. At thepresent moment you are in quite a crux, and do not know what to do. Oh, I am a witch--I am quite a witch; I can read people through and through;but I like you, my dear. You are vastly more interesting to me becauseyou are in a crux, and neurotic and anæmic. Now then, look at your dearlady moon, and let me make the cocoa in peace. "

"What an extraordinary girl!" thought Florence to herself; "but Isuppose I like her. She is so fearfully downright, I feel almost afraidof her. "

Miss Franks darted here and there, busy with her cooking. After a time, with a little sigh of excitement, Florence saw her put the extinguisheron the spirit-lamp. She then hastily lit the lamp with the green shade, and, placing it on the table where the verbena and the sweetbriar andmignonette gave forth such intoxicating odours, she laid a cup ofsteaming frothy cocoa by Florence's side, and a plate of biscuits notfar off. 

"Now then, eat, drink, and be thankful, " said Miss Franks. "I love cocoaat this hour. Yours is made entirely of milk, so it will be vastlynourishing. I am going to enjoy my cup also. "

She flung herself into the straw chair lined with cushions, and took herown supper daintily and slowly. While she ate, her bright eyes keptdarting about the room noting everything, and from time to timefastening themselves with the keenest penetration on Florence's flushedface. 

Florence felt that never in the whole course of her life had she enjoyedanything more than that cup of cocoa. 

When the meal was finished Miss Franks jumped up and began to wash thecups and saucers. 

"You must let me help you, " said Florence. She sprang very determinedlyto her feet. "I have done these things over and over for mother athome, " she said, "and I really must wash my own cup and saucer. "

"You shall wipe, and I will wash, " said Miss Franks. "I don't at allmind being helped. Division of labour lightens toil, does it not? There, take that tea-towel; it is a beauty, is it not? It is Russian. "

It was embroidered at each edge with wonderful stitches in red, and wasalso trimmed with heavy lace. 

"I have a sister in Russia, and she sent me a lot of these things when Itold her I meant to take up housekeeping, " said Miss Franks. "Now thatwe have washed up and put everything into apple-pie order, what aboutthat manuscript?"

"What manuscript?" said Florence, starting and colouring. 

"The one you brought into the room. You don't suppose I didn't see? Youhave hidden it just under that pillow on the sofa. Lie down once more onyour place of repose, and let me run my eye over it. "

"Would you?" said Florence. She coloured very deeply. "Would you greatlymind reading it aloud?"

"You have written it, I presume?" said Miss Franks. 

Florence did not say anything. She shut up her mouth into rather a hardline. Edith Franks nodded twice to herself; then, putting on herpincenez, she proceeded to read the manuscript. She had a perfectlywell-trained voice without a great amount of expression in it. She readon at first slowly and smoothly. At the end of the first page she pausedfor a moment, and looked full up at her companion. 

"How well you have been taught English!" she said. 

Still Florence did not utter a word. 

At the end of the second page Miss Franks again made a remark. 

"Your writing is so good that I have never to pause to find out themeaning of a word, and you have a very pure Saxon style. "

"Oh, I wish you would go on, and make your comments at the end, " saidFlorence then, in an almost cross tone. 

"My dear, that answer of yours requires medicine. I shall certainlyinsist upon your taking a tonic to your room with you. I can dispense alittle already, and have some directions by me. I can make up somethingwhich will do you a lot of good. "

"Do go on reading, " said Florence. 

Edith Franks proceeded with the manuscript. Her even voice still flowedon without pause or interruption. At the end of the third or fourthpage, however, she ceased to make any remarks: she turned the pages nowrapidly, and about the middle of the story her voice changed its tone. It was no longer even nor smooth: it became broken as though somethingoppressed her, then it rose triumphant and excited. She had finished:she flung the manuscript back almost at Florence's head with a gaylaugh. 

"And you pretend, you pretend, " she said, "that you are a starvinggirl--a girl out of a situation! You are a sham, Miss Aylmer--you are asham. "

"What do you mean?" said Florence. 

"Why, this, " said Edith Franks. She took up the manuscript again. 

"What about it? I mean, do you--do you--like it?"

"Like it? It is not that exactly. I admire it, of course. Have youwritten much? Have you ever published anything?"

"Never a line. "

"But you must have written a great deal to have achieved that style. "

"No, I have written very little. "

"Then you are a heaven-born genius: give me your hand. "

Florence slowly and unwilling extended her hand. Miss Franks grasped itin both of hers. 

"Flexible fingers, " she said, "but not exactly, not precisely the handof an artist, and yet, and yet you are an artist through and through. Mydear, you are a genius. "

"I do not know why you say that. "

"Because you have written that story, that queer, weird, extraordinarytale. It is not the plot alone: it is the way you have told it, the waythe figures group themselves together, the strength that is in them, theway you have grasped the situation; and you have made all thosecharacters live. They move backwards and forwards; they are humanbeings. I am so glad Johanna won the victory, she was so brave, and itwas such a cruel temptation. Oh, I shall dream of that story, and yetyou say you have written very little. "

"You jump to conclusions, " said Florence. She spoke in a queer voice. "Inever told you that I had written that story. "

"But you have, my dear; I see it in your face. Oh, I congratulate you. "

"Would it be possible to--to publish it?" was Florence's next remark, made after a long pause. 

"Publish it? I know half a dozen editors in London who would jump at it. I know a good deal about writing, as it happens. My brother is ajournalist, and he has talked to me about these things. He is a veryclever journalist, and at one time I had a faint sort of dream that Imight follow in his steps, but my own career is better--I mean for me. Publish it; of course, you shall publish it. Editors are only toothankful to get the real stuff, but, poor souls! they seldom do get it. You will be paid well for this. Of course, you will make up your mind tobe an author, a writer of short stories, a second Bret Harte. Oh, thisis splendid, superb!"

Florence got up from her sofa; she felt a little giddy. Her face wasvery white. 

"Do you--do you know any publishers personally?" was her next remark. 

"Not personally, but I can give you a list of half a dozen at least. Ishall watch your career with intense interest, and I can advise you too. I tell you what it is--on Sunday I will go and see my brother Tom, and Iwill tell him about you, and ask him what he would recommend. You mustnot give yourself away; you have a great career before you. Of course, you will lead the life of a writer, and nothing else?"

"Good night, " said Florence; "I am very tired, but I am awfully obligedto you. "

"Won't you wait until I make up your tonic?"

"I could not take it to-night. I have a bad headache; I want to go tobed. Thank you so very much. "

"But, I say, you are leaving your darling, precious manuscript behindyou. " Miss Franks darted after Florence, and thrust the manuscript intoher hand. 

"Take care of it, " she said; "it is the work of a genius. Now, goodnight. "

Florence went upstairs. Slowly she entered her dismal little attic. Shelit a candle, and locked her door. She laid the manuscript on the chestof drawers. She went some steps away from it as though she were afraidof it; then with a hasty movement she unlocked the drawer where she kepther purse, and thrust the manuscript in. She locked the drawer again, and put the key into her writing-desk, and then she undressed as fast asever she could, and got into bed, and covered her head so that sheshould not see the moon shining into her room, and said under herbreath: "O God, let me sleep as soon as possible, for I cannot, I darenot think. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

NEARER AND NEARER. 

Florence had lived without letters for some time, but now they seemed topour in. The next morning, as she was preparing her extremely frugalbreakfast, consisting of bread without butter and a little weak tea, sheheard the postman climbing all the way up to her attic floor. His doubleknock sounded on her door, and a letter was dropped in. She took it up:it was from her mother. She opened it languidly. Mrs. Aylmer wrote insome distress:--

 "MY DARLING CHILD--

 "The queerest thing has happened. I cannot possibly account for it. I have been robbed of five pounds. I was on the sands yesterday talking to a very pleasant jolly fat little man, who interested me by telling me that he knew London, and that he considered I had done extremely wrong in allowing you to go there without a chaperon. He described the dangers to which young girls were subjected in such terrible and fearful language that I very nearly screamed. 

 "I thanked him for his advice, and told him that I would write to you immediately and ask you to come home. My darling, it would be better for us both to starve at home than for you to run the risks which he has hinted at. 

 "But to come to the real object of this letter. I am five pounds short, my dear Florry--I had five pounds in my pocket, two of which I had received unexpectedly, and three from my very, very tiny income. Sukey and I were going to have quite a little turn-out--a nice tea-party; but fortunately, most fortunately, Providence prevented my ordering the buns and cakes, or sending out the invitations, and when I came in my money was gone. Of course it was not the little man, so do not point your suspicions at him. Somebody robbed the widow. Oh, what a judgment will yet fall upon that head!

 "Dear Flo, I know you have something by you--how large a sum you have never confided to your poor mother. Will you lend me five pounds, darling, and send it at once? Quarter-day is coming on, and I have several things to meet. Do not hesitate, my love: it shall be returned to you when I get my next allowance. 

 "I will write to you later on with regard to your coming back to Dawlish. In the meantime think of your poor mother's distress, and do your utmost for her. "

Florence let the letter drop from her hands. She sat before her frugalboard, and slowly and listlessly raised her cup of tea to her lips. 

"I seem to be pushed gradually nearer and nearer the edge, " she said toherself. "What possessed mother to lose that money? Of course the manwas a thief. Mother is so silly, and she really gets worse as she growsolder. Dear little Mummy, I love her with all my heart; but her want ofcommon-sense does try me sometimes. "

The day was going to be a particularly hot one. There was a mist allover the horizon, and the breeze was moving languidly. 

Florence had her window wide open, and was wondering how she could livethrough the day. To-day was Saturday. To-morrow she would have apleasant time. She looked forward to meeting Maurice Trevor more thanshe dared to admit to herself. She wondered what sort of woman hismother was. 

"At any rate, " she said to herself, "he is nice. I like him, and I amsure he likes me, and we shall enjoy ourselves on Hampstead Heath. Itwon't be so hot there; it will be a little bit of the country. I mustsend mother the five pounds, and I suppose I need not decide about thatawful manuscript till Monday. "

These thoughts had scarcely come into her head before there came a knockat her door. Florence went to open it, and Edith Franks, very neatlydressed, and looking business-like and purposeful, with bright eyes anda clear colour in her cheeks, stood on the threshold. 

"How do you do?" she said. "I am just off to my work. I am about to havea very hard day, but I thought I would refresh myself with a sight ofyou. May I come in?"

"Please do, " said Florence, but she did not look altogether happy as shegave the invitation. Her bed was unmade, her dressing things were lyingabout, her breakfast was just the sort which she did not wish thekeen-eyed medical student to see. There was no help for it, however. Edith Franks had come up for the purpose of spying into the nakedness ofthe land, and spy she did. She looked quickly round her in that darting, bird-like manner which characterised all her movements. She saw theuntidy room, she noticed the humble, insufficient meal. 

Edith Franks had the kindest heart in the world; but she was sometimes alittle, just a very little destitute of tact. 

"My dear, " she said, "may I sit down? Your stairs really take one'sbreath away. I know now what I specially came for. Tom has promised tocall for me this morning. "

"Who is Tom?" asked Florence. 

"Don't you know? What a short memory you have! I told you somethingabout him last night--my clever journalist brother. He is on the staffof the _Daily Tidings_, and the new six-penny magazine that people talkso much about, the _Argonaut_. He has a splendid post, and has greatinfluence. If you will entrust that precious manuscript to me, I willlet Tom see it. He is the best of judges. If he says it is worthanything, your fortune is made. If, on the other hand--"

"Oh, but he won't like it, and I think I would rather not, " saidFlorence. She turned very pale as she spoke. Edith gave her anotherglance. 

"Let me have it, " she said. "Tom's seeing it means nothing. I will gethim to run his eye over it while we are at lunch together. Here, get itfor me; there's a good girl. "

Florence rose. Her feet seemed weighted with lead. She unlocked herdrawer, took out the manuscript, and nearly flung it at Edith's head. She restrained herself, however, and stood with it in her hand lookingas undecided as a girl could look. 

"You tempt me mightily, " she said; "why do you tempt me?"

"To get money for what is such splendid work, " said Miss Franks, with agay laugh. "I am glad I tempt you, for you want money, you poor, proud, queer girl. I like you--I like you much, but you must just let me helpyou over this crisis. Give it to me, my dear. "

She nearly snatched the manuscript from Florence, and thrust it into asmall leather bag which she wore at her side. 

"Tom shall tell you what he thinks of it, and now ta! ta!"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A VESTIGE OF HOPE. 

Miss Franks was heard tripping downstairs as fast as her feet couldcarry her, and Florence covered her face with her hands. 

"I have yielded, " she said to herself. "What is to be done?" She got updesperately. 

"I must not think, that is evident, " was her next sensation. She couldnot take any more breakfast. She was too tired, too stunned, toounnerved. She dressed herself slowly, and determined, after posting thenecessary money to her mother, to go the round of the differentregistry-offices where she had entered her name. 

"If there is any chance, any chance at all, I will tell Edith Franks thetruth to-night, " she said to herself. "If there is no chance of myearning money--why, this sum that mother has demanded of me means thereducing of my store to seven pounds and some odd silver--I shall bepenniless before many weeks are over. What is to be done?"

Florence wrote a short letter to her mother. She made no allusionswhatever to the little woman's comments with regard to the dangers inwhich she herself was placed. 

"I am extremely likely to die of starvation, but there is no otherdanger in my living alone in London, " she thought, with a short laugh. And then she went to a post-office and got the necessary postal orders, and put them into the letter, and registered it and sent it off. 

"Oh, Mummy, do be careful, " she said, in the postscript; "it has beenrather hard to spare you this, though, of course I do it with a heartand a half. "

Afterwards poor Florence went the dreary round--from Harley-street toBond-street, from Bond-street to Regent-street, from Regent-street tothe Strand did she wander, and in each registry-office she received thesame reply: "There is nothing at all likely to suit you. "

At last, in a little office in Fleet-street, she was handed the addressof a lady who kept a school, and who might be inclined to give Florencea small post. 

"The lady came in late last night, " said the young woman who spoke toher across a crowded counter, "and she said she wanted someone to comeand live in the house and look after a lot of girls, and she would beglad to make arrangements, as term would begin in about a fortnight. Youmight look her up. I know the salary will be very small; but I think sheis willing to give board and lodging. "

Slightly cheered by this vestige of hope, Florence mounted an omnibus, and presently found herself at South Kensington. She found the rightstreet, and stopped before a door of somewhat humble dimensions. Sherang the bell. A charwoman opened the door after some delay, told herthat Mrs. Fleming was within, and asked her what her message was. 

Florence said she had come after the post which Mrs. Fleming wasoffering. 

The charwoman looked dubious. 

"I wouldn't if I was you, " she said, in a low voice, hiding both herhands under her apron as she spoke. 

Florence would not condescend to consult with the charwoman whether shewas to accept the situation or not. She simply said: "Will you tell yourmistress that I am here?"

"A wilful lass, " muttered the old woman, "and I told her she had betternot. " She shambled across a dirty passage, and opened a door at thefarther end. A moment later Florence found herself in the presence of atall woman with a very much powdered face and untidy hair. Thispersonage was dressed in rusty black, wore a dirty collar and cuffs, andhad hands evidently long strangers to soap-and-water. She invitedFlorence to seat herself, and looked her all over. 

"H'm! you've come after the situation. Your name, please. "

"Florence Aylmer. "

"Your age?"

"I am nearly twenty-one. "

"Very young. Have you had experience in controlling the follies ofyouth?"

"I have been pupil teacher at my last school for over a year, " saidFlorence. 

"Ah, and where was your school?"

Florence mentioned it. 

"Have you ever got into any scrape of any sort, been a naughty girl, oranything of that kind? I have to make most searching enquiries. "

"Why do you ask?" said Florence. She coloured first, and then turnedvery pale. 

Mrs. Fleming gazed at her with hawk-like eyes. 

"Why don't you answer?"

"Because I cannot see, " replied Florence, with some spirit, "that youhave any right to ask me the question. I can give you excellenttestimonials from the mistress of the school where I was living. "

"That will not do. I find that nothing so influences youth as that theinstructress should give an epitome of her own life, should be ableplainly to show how _she_ has conquered temptation, and risen even abovethe _appearance_ of evil. If there is a flaw in the governess, therewill also be a flaw in the pupils--understand, eh?"

"Yes, madam, " said Florence; "I am afraid your post won't suit me. Ihave certainly a great many flaws; I never supposed you wanted a perfectgoverness. "

"Impertinent, " said Mrs. Fleming. "Here am I ready to offer you theshelter of my roof, the excellent food which always prevails in thisestablishment, and fifteen pounds a year, and yet you talk in that loftytone. You are a very silly young woman. I am quite sure you won't suitme. "

"It is a foregone conclusion, " said Florence, indulging in a littlepertness as she saw that the situation would no more suit her than sheit. She walked towards the door. 

"I will wish you good morning, " she said. 

"Stay one moment. What can you teach?"

"Nothing that will suit you. "

"I must certainly remove my name from that registry-office. Istipulated that I should see godly maidens of spotless character. You, who evidently have a shady past, dare to come to me to offer yourpolluted services! I will wish you good morning. "

"I have already wished you good morning, " said Florence. She turnedwithout another word, and, not deigning to ask the assistance of thecharwoman, left the house. 

When she got to the street she was trembling. 

"It is hard for girls like me to earn their own bread, " she said toherself. "What is to be done? Nearer and nearer am I getting to the edgeof the cliff. What is to be done?"

She returned home, and spent the rest of the day in a state of intensedepression. Her attic was so suffocating that she could not stay in it, but there was a general sitting-room downstairs, and she went there andcontrived to make herself as wretched as she could over a well-thumbednovel which another girl had left behind her on the previous evening. 

A certain Miss Mitford, the head of this part of the establishment, wandered in, saw that Florence was quite alone, noticed how ill andwretched she looked, and sat down near her. 

"Your name is, I think, Aylmer, " said this good woman. 

"Yes: Florence Aylmer, " replied Florence, and she scarcely raised hereyes from her book. 

"You don't look very well. I am going for a little drive: a friend ofmine is lending me her carriage. I have plenty of room for you; will youcome with me?"

"Do you mean it?" said Florence, raising languid eyes. 

"I certainly do. My friend has a most comfortable carriage. We willdrive to Richmond Park. What do you say?"

"That I thank you very much, and I--"

"Of course you'll come. "

"Yes, I'll come, " said Florence. She ran upstairs more briskly than shehad done yet. The thought of the drive, and the peace of being alonewith a woman who knew absolutely nothing about her, was soothing. MissMitford was not remarkable for her penetration of character, but she wasessentially kind. 

The carriage arrived and she and Florence got in. They drove for aquarter of a mile without either of them uttering a word; then thecoachman drew up at a shabby house. Miss Mitford got out, ran up thesteps, and rang the bell; in a moment or two three little girls withvery pasty faces and lack-lustre eyes appeared. 

"I am sorry I was late, dears, " said Miss Mitford; "but jump in: thereis room for us all in the barouche. "

Florence felt now almost happy. There was no chance of Miss Mitforddiscovering her secret. Indeed, the superintendent of No. 12, Prince'sMansions, had not the faintest idea of enquiring into Florence'saffairs. She could bestow a passing kindness on a sad-looking girl, butit was not her habit to enquire further. She chatted to the children, and Florence joined in. Presently she found herself laughing. 

When they reached the park, they all alighted and sat under the trees, and Miss Mitford produced a mysterious little basket, out of which shetook milk and sponge-cakes, and Florence enjoyed her feast just as muchas the children did. It was seven o'clock when she arrived home again, and Edith Franks was waiting for her in the downstair hall. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

IN THE BALANCE. 

The moment Edith saw Florence, she went up to her, seized her by thearm, and said, in an imperious voice: "You must come with me to my roomimmediately. "

"But why?" asked Miss Aylmer, trying to release herself from the firmgrip in which Edith Franks held her. 

"Because I have something most important to tell you. "

Florence did not reply. She had been cheered and comforted by her drive, and she found that Edith Franks, with all her kindness, had a mostirritating effect upon her. There was nothing for it, however, but tocomply, and the two went upstairs as far as the third story together. There they entered Edith's sitting-room. She pushed Florence down on thesofa, and, still keeping a hand on each of her shoulders, saidemphatically: "Tom: read it. "

"What do you mean?" was Florence's almost inane answer. 

"How stupid you are!" Edith gave her a little shake. "When I amexcited--I to whom it means practically nothing, why should not you be?Tom read it, and he means to show it to his chief. You are made, and Ihave made you. Kiss me; let me congratulate you. You will starve nolonger; you will have plenty. What is more, you will have fame. You willbe courted by the great; you have an honourable future in front of you. Look up! Lose that lack-lustre expression in your eyes. Oh, goodgracious! the girl is ill. " For Florence had turned ghastly white. 

"This is a case for a doctor, " said Edith Franks; "lie down--that isbetter. " She pulled the cushions away from the sofa and pushed Florenceinto a recumbent position. 

"I have some sal volatile here; you must drink it. "

Edith rushed across the room, took the necessary bottle from her medicalshelf, prepared a dose, and brought it to the half-fainting girl. 

Florence sipped it slowly. The colour came back into her cheeks, and hereyes looked less dazed. 

"Now you are more yourself. What was the matter with you?"

"But you--you have not given it; he--he has not shown it--"

"You really are most provoking, " said Miss Franks. "I don't know why Itake so much trouble for you--a stranger. I have given you what wouldhave taken you months to secure for yourself: the most valuableintroduction into the very best quarter for the disposal of your wares. Oh, you are a lucky girl. But there, you shall dine with me to-night. "

"I cannot. "

"Too proud, eh?"

"Oh, you don't know my position, " said poor Florence. 

"Nonsense! Go up to your room and have a rest. I will come for you in aquarter of an hour. I have ordered dinner for two already. If you don'teat it, it will be thrown away. "

"I am afraid it will have to be thrown away! I--I don't feel well. "

"You are a goose; but if you are ill, you shall stay here and I willnurse you. "

"No; I think I'll go upstairs. I want to be alone. "

Florence staggered across the room as she spoke. Edith Franks looked ather for a moment in a puzzled way. 

"I shall expect you down to dinner, " she said. "Dinner will be ready ina quarter of an hour. Mind, I shall expect you. "

Florence made no answer. She slowly left the room, closing the doorafter her, and retired to her own apartment. 

Edith Franks clasped both her hands to her head. 

"Well, really, " she thought, "why should I put myself out about anungrateful girl of that sort? But there, she is deeply interesting: oneof those strange vagaries of genius. She is a psychological study, beyond doubt. I must see plenty of her. I have a great mind to take uppsychology as my special branch of the profession; it is so deeply, soappallingly interesting. Poor girl, she has great genius! When thatstory is published all the world will know. I never saw Tom so excitedabout anything. He said: 'There is stuff in this. ' He said it after hehad read a page; he said it again when he had gone half-way through themanuscript; and he clapped his hands at the end and said: 'Bravo!' Iknow what that means from Tom. He is the most critical of men. Hedistrusts everything until it has proved itself good, and yet heaccepted the talent of that story without a demur. "

Miss Franks hurriedly moved about the room, changed her dress, smoothedher hair, washed her hands, looked at her little gun-metal watch, sawthat the quarter of an hour had expired, and tripped downstairs to thedining-room. 

"Will she be there, or will she not?" thought Edith Franks to herself. 

She looked eagerly into the great room with its small tables coveredwith white cloths. There were seats in the dining-room for one hundredand fifty people. 

Edith Franks, however, looked over to a certain corner, and there, atone of the tables, quietly waiting for her, and also neatly dressed, satFlorence Aylmer. 

"That is right, " said Miss Franks; "you are coming to your senses. "

"Yes, " answered Florence, "I am coming to my senses. "

There was a bright flush on each of her cheeks, and her eyes werebrilliant: she looked almost handsome. 

Edith gazed at her with admiration. 

"So you are drinking in the delicious flattery: you are preparing forthe fame which awaits you, " said the medical student. 

"I want to say one thing, Miss Franks, " remarked Florence, bendingforward. 

"What is that?"

"When you came up this morning to my room I did not wish to give you themanuscript; you took it from me almost by force. You promised furtherthat your brother's seeing it would mean nothing. You did not keep yourword. Your brother has seen it, and, from what you tell me, he approvesof it. From what you tell me further, he is going to show it in acertain quarter where its success will be more or less assured. Ofcourse, you and he may be both mistaken, and after all the story whichyou think so highly of may be worth nothing; that remains to be proved. "

"It is worth a great deal; the world will talk about it, " said EdithFranks. 

"But I don't want the world to talk of it, " said Florence. "I didn'twish to be pushed and hurried as I have been. I did wrong to consultyou, and yet I know you meant to be kind. You have not been kind: youhave been the reverse; but you have _meant_ to be kind, and I thank youfor your intention. Things must go their own way. I have been hardpressed and I have yielded; only please do not ask me to talk about it. When your brother receives news I shall be glad to know; but even then Iwant to hear the fate of the manuscript without comment from you. Thatis what I ask. If you will promise that, I will accept your dinner. I amvery proud, and it pains me to accept charity from anyone; but I willaccept your dinner and be grateful to you: only will you promise not totalk of the manuscript any more?"

"Certainly, my dear, " answered Edith Franks. "Have a potato, won't you?"

As Edith helped Florence to a floury potato, she exclaimed, under herbreath: "A little mad, poor girl: a most interesting psychologicalstudy. "

CHAPTER XX. 

ROSE VIEW. 

It was a most glorious Sunday, and Florence felt cheered as she dressedfor her visit to Hampstead. She resolved to put all disagreeable thingsout of sight. 

"I fell before, " she said to herself, "and I am falling again. I amafraid there is nothing good in me: there is certainly _nothing_ stablein me. I yielded to temptation when I was a girl at school, and I amyielding now. I have put myself again into the power of an unscrupulouswoman. But for to-day at least I will be happy; I will banish dullcare. "

So she made herself look as bright and pretty as she could in a whitewashing dress. She wore a smart sailor hat, and, putting on some whitewashing gloves, ran downstairs. On one of the landings she met EdithFranks. 

"Whither away?" asked that young lady. 

"I am going to Hampstead to spend the day with friends. "

"That is very nice. I know Hampstead well. What part are you going to?"

"Close to the heath: to people of the name of Trevor. "

"Not surely to Mrs. Trevor, of Rose View?" exclaimed Edith Franks, starting back a step and raising her brows as she spoke. 

"Yes. "

"And do you know her son, that most charming fellow, Maurice Trevor?"

"I know him slightly. "

"Oh, but this is really delightful. We have been friends with theTrevors, Tom and I, ever since we were children. This seems to be quitea new turn to our friendship, does it not?"

Florence felt herself both cold and stiff. She longed to be friendlywith Edith, who was, she was well aware, all that was kind;nevertheless, a strange sensation of depression and of coming troublewas over her. 

"She is kind; but she may tempt me to do what is wrong, " thought poorFlorence. 

"I don't know the Trevors well, " she answered. "I have met Mr. Trevoronce or twice, but I have never even seen his mother. His mother hasbeen kind enough to ask me to spend to-day with her. I will say good-byenow. "

"Be sure you give my love to dear Mrs. Trevor, and remember me toMaurice. Tell him, with my kind regards, that I commiserate him verymuch. "

"Why so?" asked Florence. 

"Because he has had the bad luck to be adopted by a rich, eccentric oldlady, and he will lose all his personality. Tell him I wouldn't be inhis shoes for anything, and now ta! ta! I see you are dying to be off. "

Edith went back to her room, and Florence ran downstairs, entered anomnibus which would convey her the greater part of the way to Hampstead, and arrived there a little before ten o'clock. As she was walking upthe little path to the Trevors' cottage, Maurice Trevor came down tomeet her. 

"How do you do?" he said, shaking hands with her and taking herimmediately into the house. 

Mrs. Trevor was standing in the porch. 

"This is Miss Aylmer, mother, " said the young man. 

Mrs. Trevor held out her hand, looked earnestly into Florence's face, then drew her towards her and kissed her. 

"I am glad to see you, my dear, " she said; "my son has told me aboutyou. Welcome to Rose View; I hope you like the place. "

Florence looked around her and gave an exclamation of surprise anddelight. The house was a very small one, but it stood in a perfect bowerof roses: they were climbing all over the house, and blooming in thegarden: there were standard roses, yellow, white, and pink, moss-roses, the old-fashioned cabbage-rose, and Scotch roses, little white and redones. 

"I never saw anything like it, " said Florence, forgetting herself in herastonishment and delight. 

Mrs. Trevor watched her face. 

"She is a nice girl, but she has some trouble behind, " thought the widowto herself. 

"We will go round the garden, " she said; "it is not time for church yet. I am not able to go this morning, but Maurice will take you presently. You have just to cross the heath and you can go to a dear little church, quite in the depths of the country. I never need change of air here inmy rose-bower. But come: what roses shall I pick for you?"

"I must give Miss Aylmer her flowers, as she is practically my guest, "said Trevor, coming forward at that moment. He picked a moss-rose budand a few Scotch roses, made them into a posy, and gave them toFlorence. She placed the flowers in her belt; her cheeks were alreadybright with colour, and her eyes were dewy with happiness. She bent downseveral times to sniff the fragrance of the flowers. Mrs. Trevor drewher out to talk, and soon she was chatting and laughing, and looked likea girl who had not a care in the world. 

"I never saw anything so sweet, " she said. "How have you managed to makeall these roses bloom at once?"

"I study roses; they are my specialty. I think roses are the great joyof my life, " said Mrs. Trevor. But as she spoke she glanced at herstalwart, handsome son, and Florence guessed that he was his mother'sidol, and wondered how she could part with him to Mrs. Aylmer. 

"The church bells are beginning to ring, " he said suddenly; "would youlike to go to church or would you rather just wander about the heath?"

"I think I would rather stay on the heath this morning, " said Florence. She coloured as she spoke. "I do not feel very churchy, " she added. 

"All right: we'll have our service out of doors then; we'll be back, mother, in time for lunch. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

AN AWKWARD POSITION. 

Trevor raised the latch of the gate as he spoke, and Florence and hewent out into what the girl afterwards called an enchanted world. Florence during that walk was light-hearted as a lark and forgot all hercares. 

Trevor made himself a very agreeable companion. He had from the firstfelt a great sympathy for Florence. He was not at that time in love withher, but he did think her a specially attractive girl, and, believingthat she was sorrowful, and also having a sort of latent feeling that hehimself was doing her an injury by being Mrs. Aylmer's heir, he was moreattentive to her and more sympathetic in his manner than he wouldotherwise have been. 

They found a shady dell on the heath where they sat and talked of manythings. It was not until it was nearly time to return home, and they sawthe people coming away from the little church down in the vale, thatTrevor looked at his companion and said abruptly: "I do wish you and themother could live together. Do you think it could be managed?"

"I don't know, " said Florence, starting; "for some things I should likeit. "

"I cannot tell you, " he continued, flushing slightly as he spoke, "whata great satisfaction it would be to me. I must be frank with you. Ialways feel that I have done you a great injury. "

"You certainly have not done me an injury; you have added to thepleasure of my life, " said Florence. 

"I do not suppose we shall see a great deal of each other, and I oftenwonder why. If I am to be Mrs. Aylmer's heir I shall have to spend mostof my life with her; but then, so long as you are in the world, I oughtnot to hold that position. "

"Oh, never mind about that, " said Florence. 

"She is your aunt?"

"She is my aunt by marriage. It does not matter. We don't get ontogether. She--she never wishes to see me nor to hear of me. "

"But I wonder why; it seems very hard on you. You and your mother arepoor, whilst I am no relation. Why should I usurp your place--in fact, be your supplanter?"

"You are not. If you did not have the money, someone else would. Ishould never be my aunt's heiress. "

"And yet she knows you?"

"She did know me. "

"Did you ever do anything to offend her?"

"I am afraid I did. "

Trevor was on the point of asking "What?" but there was an expression inFlorence's face which stayed the word on his lips. She had turned whiteagain, and the tired, drawn expression had come to her eyes. 

"You must come home now and have lunch, " he said; "afterwards I willtake you for another walk, and show you some fresh beauties. "

They rose slowly and went back to the house. Lunch was waiting forthem, and during the meal Mrs. Trevor and Maurice talked on many thingswhich delighted and interested Florence immensely. They were both highlyintelligent, had a passionate love for horticulture, and also were wellread on many other subjects. Florence found some of her school knowledgenow standing her in good stead. 

In the course of the meal she mentioned Edith Franks. 

Both mother and son laughed when her name was spoken of. 

"What! that enthusiastic, silly girl who actually wants to be a doctor?"cried Mrs. Trevor. "She is a first-rate girl herself, but her ideasare--"

"You must not say anything against Edith Franks, mother, " exclaimed herson. "For my part, I think she is very plucky. I have no doubt, " headded, "that women doctors can do very good work. "

"She is much too learned for me, that is all, " replied Mrs. Trevor; "butI hear she is to undergo her examinations in America. I trust the daywill never come when it will be easy for a woman to obtain her medicaldegree in this country. It is horrible to think of anything sounfeminine. "

"I do not think Edith Franks is unfeminine, " said Florence. "She hasbeen awfully kind to me. I think she is experimenting on me now. "

"And that you don't like, my dear?"

"She is very good to me, " repeated Florence, "but I do not like it. "

Mrs. Trevor smiled, and Maurice gave Florence a puzzled, earnestglance. 

"I do wish, mother, " he said suddenly, "that you could arrange to haveMiss Aylmer living with you. "

"Oh, my dear, it would be much too far, and I know she would not likeit. If she has to work for her living, she must be nearer town. "

"I am afraid it would not do, " said Florence, with a sigh; "but, ofcourse, I--I should love it. "

"You have not anything to do yet, have you?" asked Trevor. 

"Not exactly. " She coloured and looked uncomfortable. 

He gave her a keen glance, and once more the thought flashed throughMrs. Trevor's mind: "The girl is hiding a secret; she has a sorrow: whatis she trying to conceal? I wish I could draw her secret from her. "

The meal over, Trevor and Florence once more wandered on the heath. Theday, which had been so sunny and bright in the morning, was now slightlyovercast, and they had not walked half a mile before rain overtook them. They had quite forgotten to provide themselves with umbrellas, andFlorence's thin dress was in danger of becoming wet through. 

As they walked quickly back now, they were overtaken by a man who saidto Florence: "I beg your pardon, but may I offer you this umbrella?"

Before she could reply, the stranger looked at Trevor and uttered anexclamation. 

"Why, Tom!" cried Trevor. He shook hands heartily with him, andintroduced him to Florence: "Mr. Franks--Miss Aylmer. "

"Aylmer?" said the young man; "are you called Florence Aylmer?" Helooked full at the girl. 

"Yes, and you have a sister called Edith Franks, " she answered. 

All the colour had left her face, her eyes were full of a sort of dumbentreaty. Trevor gazed at her in astonishment. 

"You must come back and see my mother, Franks, " he continued, turningagain to the young man. "It is very kind of you to offer your umbrellato Miss Aylmer, but I think you must share it with her. "

There was no help for it. Florence had to walk under Mr. Franks'sumbrella; she had seldom found herself in a more awkward position. 

"Of course, " she thought, "he will speak of the manuscript. "

She rushed recklessly into conversation in order to avoid this, but invain. During the first pause Mr. Franks said: "I have good news for you, Miss Aylmer. I showed your story to my chief, Anderson, last night. Ibegged of him to read it at once. He did so to oblige me. He will takeit for the _Argonaut_. I thought you would be glad. He wants you to callat the office to-morrow, when he will arrange terms with you. --Forgiveus, won't you, Trevor, for talking business; but it was such a chance, coming across Miss Aylmer like this, and I thought she would like toknow as soon as possible what a great success she has made. "

Trevor glanced at Florence in some astonishment. 

"Does this mean that you write?" he said, "and that you have had anarticle accepted?"

"A very promising article accepted extremely willingly, " said Franks. "Miss Aylmer deserves your hearty congratulations, Trevor. She is a veryfortunate young lady indeed. "

"I know I am, and I am grateful, " said Florence. 

Trevor again looked at her. 

"She is not happy. What can be wrong?" he said to himself. 

"Have you ever published anything before?" continued Franks. 

"Never. "

"Well, you are lucky. Your style--I do not want to flatter you, but yourstyle is quite formed. You must have been a very successful essay-writerat school. "

"No, I never wrote much, " said poor Florence. "I--I hate writing, " shesaid the next moment. The words burst impetuously from her lips. 

"By all that's wonderful! what do you mean by that? Surely it would beabsolutely impossible for anyone who hated writing to do so with yourease and fluency!"

"We are nearly home now, and Miss Aylmer seems very tired, " said Trevor. "Will you come in, Franks?"

"No, thanks; I must be getting home. You will call at our officeto-morrow, Miss Aylmer?"

"Thank you, " said Florence; "at what hour?"

"I shall be in and will introduce you to my chief if you can come attwelve o'clock. Well, good-bye for the present. " He raised his hat toFlorence, favoured her with a keen glance, said good-bye to Trevor, andturned away. 

"I must congratulate you, " said Trevor, as the young man and the girlwalked up the little path to the house. 

"What for?" she asked. She raised her eyes full of dumb misery to hisface. 

"For having won a success, and a very honourable one. "

"Oh, don't ask me any more, " she said; "please, please don't speak ofit. I thought I should be so happy to-day. "

"But does not this make you happy? I do not understand. "

"It makes me terribly miserable. I cannot explain. Please don't ask me. "

"I won't; only just let me say that, whatever it is, I am sorry foryou. "

He held out his hand. The next moment he had taken hers. Her hand, whichhad been trembling, lay still in his palm. He clasped his own strong, firm hand over it. 

"I wish I could help you, " he said, in a low voice, and then they bothentered the house. 

Mrs. Trevor, through the little latticed window in the tinydrawing-room, had witnessed this scene. 

"What?" she said to herself. "Is my boy really falling in love with thatnice, interesting, but unhappy girl? Of course, I shall not oppose him;but I almost wish it were not to be. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE STORY ACCEPTED. 

Tea was ready prepared. The sun came out after the heavy shower, andFlorence found the Trevors even more kind and agreeable than they hadbeen at lunch. When the meal was over, Trevor called his mother out ofthe room. He spoke to her for a few moments alone, and then shere-entered the little drawing-room. 

Florence was seated by the open window, looking out. She was resting herchin on the palm of her hand as she gazed across the rose-garden. Atthat moment Trevor went quietly by. He stooped to pick one or two roses;then he turned and looked at Florence. Florence smiled very faintly, anda rush of colour came into Trevor's face. Mrs. Trevor then came up toFlorence and spoke. 

"I do it because my son wishes it, " she said, "and I also do it becauseI take an interest in you. He has told me of your great success in theliterary market. You, young and inexperienced, have had an articleaccepted by so great a magazine as the _Argonaut_. You scarcely knowwhat an immense success you have won. I did not, of course, understandwhat your occupation in London was likely to be; but if you are to be awriter, why not come and live with me here? I have a nice little roomwhich I can offer you, and this drawing-room will always be at yourdisposal, for I sit as a rule in my dining-room. You can go into townwhen you want to, and you will make me happy, and--and I think Mauricewould like it. "

As Mrs. Trevor spoke she looked full at the girl, and Florence foundherself trembling and even colouring as Trevor's name was mentioned. 

"Will you think over it, my dear, " said Mrs. Trevor, "and let me know?"

"I will think over it and let you know. You are very kind to me. Iscarcely know how to thank you enough, " replied Florence. 

"As to the terms, " continued Mrs. Trevor, "they would be very moderate. My cottage is my own, and I have few expenses. I could take you in andmake you comfortable for fifteen shillings a week. "

"Oh!" said Florence. She thought of that money which was getting dailyless. She looked into the lovely garden and her heart swelled withinher. Her first impulse was to throw her arms round Mrs. Trevor's neck:to say it would be peace, comfort, and happiness to live with her. Shewould save money, and her worst anxieties would be removed. But sherestrained herself. There was a heavy weight pressing against her heart, and even the widow's kindness scarcely touched her. 

"I will let you know. You are more than kind, " she said. 

A moment afterwards she had said good-bye to Mrs. Trevor, and Mauriceand she were hurrying down the hill to meet the omnibus which was toconvey the girl back to Prince's Mansions. 

"My mother has told you what we both wish?" he said. "To be honest withyou, I feel that we owe you something. I am usurping your place; I cannever get over that fact. "

"I wish you wouldn't think of it, for it is not the truth, " saidFlorence. "I have told you already that even if you did not exist Ishould never inherit a farthing of my aunt's money, and what is more, "she added, the crimson dyeing her cheeks, "I wouldn't take it if sheoffered it to me. "

"You are a strange girl, " he said. He bade her good-bye as she enteredthe omnibus, and then turned to walk up Hampstead Hill once again. 

The next day at twelve o'clock Florence Aylmer, neatly dressed, andlooking bright and purposeful, and no longer overpowered by any sense ofremorse, appeared at Mr. Anderson's office. She was received with thepoliteness which is ever accorded to the successful. The very clerks inthe outer office seemed to know that she was not to be confounded withthe ordinary young person who appears daily and hourly offeringunsaleable wares. Florence's wares were saleable--more than saleable. She was ushered into a room to wait for a moment, and then very soonFranks appeared on the scene. 

"How do you do, Miss Aylmer?" he said, coming up in his quick way, andshaking hands with her. "I am very pleased to see you. Will you comewith me now, as I should like to introduce you to Mr. Anderson?"

They left the waiting-room together, went up some broad stairs, andentered a very spacious apartment on the first floor. Here an elderlyman, of tall presence, with grey hair and a hooked nose, was waiting toreceive them. He stood up when Florence appeared, bowed to her, andthen held out his hand. 

"Will you seat yourself, Miss Aylmer?" he said. 

Florence did so. Mr. Anderson stood on the hearth and looked her allover. He had a keen, hawk-like glance, and his scrutiny was verypenetrating. Florence found herself colouring under his gaze. She hadbeen full of _sangfroid_ and almost indifference when she entered theoffice, but now once again that terrible, overpowering sense of guiltwas visiting her. 

Mr. Anderson was a Scotchman to the backbone, and a man of very fewwords. 

"I read your story, " he said; "it is sharp and to the point. You have anice style and an original way of putting things. I accepted your storyfor the _Argonaut_; it may not appear for some months, but it willcertainly be published before the end of the year. We had better nowarrange terms. What do you think your manuscript worth?"

"Nothing at all, " was Florence's unguarded answer. 

This was so unexpected that both Franks and the editor smiled. 

"You are a very young writer indeed, " said Mr. Anderson. "You will soonlearn to appraise your wares at their true value. As this is your firsteffort I will pay you two guineas a thousand words. There are, I think, from five to six thousand words in the manuscript. You will receive acheque therefore, say, for twelve guineas on the day of publication. "

Florence gave a short gasp. 

"It really is not worth it, " she said again. 

Franks felt inclined to say: "Don't make such a fool of yourself, " buthe restrained himself. 

Mr. Anderson now drew his own chair forward and looked at Florence. 

"I should be glad, " he said, "to receive further contributions. You havedoubtless many ideas, and you have at present the great and inestimablecharm of novelty. You write in a fresh way. We are always looking forwork of the sort you have given us. I should be sorry if you took yourstories to anyone else. Would it be possible to make an arrangement forus to receive all your contributions, say, for twelve months?"

"I assure you, " here interrupted Franks, "that this is so unusual anoffer that you would be very silly indeed, Miss Aylmer, to reject it. "

Florence gazed from one to the other in growing alarm. 

"What I mean is this, " said Anderson, noticing her perturbation andpitying her supposed innocence. "When your story appears it will attractthe attention of the critics. It will receive, beyond doubt, some veryfavourable comments, and other editors, who equally with myself arelooking out for what is fresh and novel, will write to you and ask youto work for them. I do not wish in any way to injure your futureprospects; but I think you would do better for yourself, and eventuallyincrease the value of your contributions, by giving us your work duringthe first year. When can we find room for this first story of MissAylmer's, Franks?"

Franks thought for a moment. 

"There is no reason why it should not appear in November, " he said. "Wecould dispense with illustrations--at least one illustration will bequite sufficient. "

"Very well; it shall appear then. You will soon receive proofs, MissAylmer; and can you let me have another small story of about the samelength in a month from now? If your first story is liked we can findroom for another in December. You will think over my proposal. I do notwant you to hurry nor to appear to coerce you in any way, but we shallbe proud to be the publishers who introduced you to, I hope, a verylarge audience. "

Mr. Anderson here got up, and Florence, seeing that the interview was atan end, bowed and went away. Franks accompanied her downstairs. 

"You will, of course, accept Mr. Anderson's offer?" he said. 

"Of course I shall, " replied Florence; "why should I not? But you areboth under a mistake with regard to me. I do not suppose any othereditors will want my contributions; but if you wish for them you cancertainly have them. "

She returned home, avoided Edith Franks, and stayed for the remainder ofthat day in her own attic. 

"Soon my pecuniary difficulties will be at an end, " she said to herself. "I have not the slightest doubt that I can get some more stories intothe _Argonaut_ this year. I shall soon get over my remorse; myconscience will soon cease to prick me. If I receive twelve guineas foreach story I shall earn a considerable sum. I can then live easily. I donot mind how poorly I live if only I am assured of a certainty. "

She walked across the room and looked out; the expression on her facehad changed: it had grown hard and defiant. She took up her pen, drew asheet of note-paper before her, and began to write:--

 "DEAR BERTHA--

 "The story is accepted by that new six-penny magazine, the _Argonaut_, and they want more. Please send me something else. I have succumbed to temptation, and am once again, as you so earnestly desire, in the toils. 

 "Yours, "FLORENCE AYLMER. "

Having written this letter, Florence proceeded to write another:--

 "DEAR MRS. TREVOR--

 "I have thought of your kind offer of yesterday. Indeed, I have scarcely ceased to think of it since I left you. It is with great, great sorrow that I must decline it. You and your kind son had better think no more about me. I am not what I seem: I am not a good girl nor a nice girl in any way. If I were straight and simple and honest I could be the happiest of the happy in your house; but I am not, and I can never tell you what I really am. Please forget that you ever knew me. 

 "Yours, with gratitude, "Florence Aylmer. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

BERTHA'S JOY. 

Bertha Keys found herself in a state of pleasurable excitement. She wasin the highest spirits. 

Mrs. Aylmer, as she watched her flit about the room, and listened to hergay conversation, and observed her animated face, said to herself: "Amore charming companion could not fall to the lot of any woman. Now whatis the matter, Bertha?" she said. "Your face quite amuses me; you burstout into little ripples of laughter at the smallest provocation. Thatdress is extremely becoming; it is a pleasure to see you. What is it, mydear? Have you heard any specially good news?"

"I have heard this news, and I think we ought both to be very happy, "said Bertha. "Mr. Trevor comes home this evening; he will be with us todinner. "

Mrs. Aylmer gave her companion a keen, searching glance. 

"Miss Keys, " she said slowly. 

"Yes, " said Bertha, pausing and laying her hand lightly on a littletable near; "do you want me to do anything?"

"Nothing in especial: you are always doing things for me. You are a goodgirl and a valuable secretary to me; you suit me to perfection. Now, mydear, I have no wish to part with you. "

"To part with me?" said Bertha. She looked startled and raised hercurious greeny-grey eyes with a new expression in them. 

"To part with you, Bertha; but if you set your heart on Mr. MauriceTrevor you and I must part. "

"What does this mean? Do you want to insult me?"

"No, my dear, by no means; but girls will be girls. How old are you, Miss Keys?"

"I am seven-and-twenty. "

"And Maurice is three-and-twenty, " said Mrs. Aylmer. "He is four yearsyour junior; but that in affairs of the heart, I am afraid, does notmatter much. You like him, I can see. My dear Miss Keys, the moment Isee my adopted son paying you the slightest attention you must leavehere. I daresay he never will pay you that kind of attention, andprobably it is all right; but a word to the wise is enough, eh?"

"Quite enough, " said Bertha; "you are a little unkind, my dear friend, to speak to me in that tone, and when I was so happy too. Believe me, Ihave not the slightest intention of marrying anyone. I have seen toomuch trouble in married life to care to cast in my lot with the marriedfolks. I shall live with you as your companion as long as you want me. May I not like Mr. Trevor, and be a sort of sister to him?"

"Certainly, only don't be too sisterly or too friendly; do not ask forhis confidence; do not think too much about him. He is a charmingfellow, but he is not intended for you. My heir must marry as I please, and I am already looking out for a wife for him. "

"Indeed; how very interesting!"

"There is a young girl I happen to know, who lives not far from here. She is extremely handsome, and will have a great deal of money. I meanto invite her to Aylmer's Court next week. Now you, Miss Keys, can do agreat deal to promote a friendly feeling between the young people; but Iwill tell you more of this to-morrow. "

"Thank you, " replied Bertha. "I wonder, " she continued, "who the girlis. "

"That, my dear, I will tell you by-and-by. At present you are to knownothing about it. "

The sound of wheels was now heard on the gravel and Bertha randownstairs. 

"Poor dear Mrs. Aylmer, " she said to herself; "it is easy to blind herafter all. I do not at all know at present whether I want to marryMaurice or not; but, whatever happens, I inherit my dear friend's money, either as his wife, or on my own account: it does not in the leastmatter which. No wonder I am in good spirits! He comes back to-night, and Florence Aylmer has yielded to temptation. I have nothing to fearfrom her now. The second story will go to her by the first post in themorning. I fancy it will be even more fetching than the one which hasalready taken the fancy of the editor of the _Argonaut_. "

Trevor had now entered the hall, and Bertha went to meet him. 

"How do you do?" she said, in her gayest voice. She was dressed in themost becoming way, and looked wonderfully attractive. Her red-gold hairwas always a striking feature about her; her complexion at night was ofthe palest cream and dazzlingly fair; her eyes looked big, and as sheraised them to Trevor's face they wore a pathetic expression. He wrungher hand heartily, asked for Mrs. Aylmer, said that he would go to hisroom to get ready for dinner, and ran upstairs three steps at a time. 

"How nice he looks!" thought the girl; "it would be possible for me tolike him even as much as Mrs. Aylmer fears, but I will not show my handat present. What does this fresh combination mean? I wonder who the girlis who is to be brought to Aylmer's Court on purpose to be wooed byMaurice Trevor. "

The dinner-gong sounded, and soon Mrs. Aylmer, Trevor, and Bertha sataround the board. He chatted gaily, telling both the ladies some amusingadventures, and causing Mrs. Aylmer to laugh heartily several times. 

"You are a very bad boy to stay away from me so long, " she said; "butnow you are not to stir: your work is cut out for you. I mean you totake complete control of the estate. To-morrow you and I will have along conversation on the subject. "

"But I am not at all a business man, " he answered, frowning slightly andglancing from Bertha to Mrs. Aylmer. 

"Never mind; you can learn. You surely ought to know something of whatis to be your own eventually!"

"I thought that your steward and Miss Keys managed everything. "

"Miss Keys manages a good deal, perhaps too much, " said Mrs. Aylmer, frowning, and glancing in a somewhat suspicious way at her companion. "Imean you to manage your own affairs in the future; but you and I willhave a talk after breakfast to-morrow. "

"Yes, I shall be glad to have a talk with you, " he answered. He lookedat her gravely. 

Bertha wondered what was passing in his mind. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

TREVOR ASKS BERTHA'S ADVICE. 

That same evening, when Mrs. Aylmer had retired to bed and Bertha wasabout to go to her own room, she met Trevor on the stairs. 

"Are you disengaged?" he said. "I should like to speak to you for amoment or two. "

"I am certainly disengaged to you, " she replied. "What can I do foryou?"

"Come back to the drawing-room; the lamps are still alight. I won't keepyou many minutes. "

They both re-entered the beautiful room. The night was so warm that thewindows were open; the footman appeared and prepared to close them, butTrevor motioned him back. 

"I will shut up the room, " he said; "you need not wait up. "

The man withdrew, closing the door softly behind him. 

Bertha found herself standing close to Trevor. She looked into his faceand noted with a sense of approval how handsome and manly andsimple-looking he was. An ideal young Englishman, without guile orreproach. He was looking back at her, and once more that peculiarexpression in his honest blue eyes appeared. 

"I want to consult with you, " he said: "something is giving me a gooddeal of uneasiness. "

"What is that, Mr. Trevor?"

"When I was in town I met Miss Florence Aylmer. "

"Did you really? How interesting!" Bertha dropped lightly into thenearest chair. "Well, and how was the dear Florence? Had she got a berthof any sort? Is she very busy? She is terribly poor, you know. "

"She is disgracefully, shamefully poor, " was his answer, spoken withsome indignation, the colour flaming over his face as he spoke. 

Bertha did not say anything, but she looked full at him. After amoment's pause, she uttered one word softly and half below her breath, and that word was simply: "Yes?"

"She is disgracefully poor!" he repeated. "Miss Keys, that ought not tobe the case. "

"I do not understand you, " said Bertha. 

"May I explain?" He dropped into a chair near her, and bent forward; hishands were within a couple of inches of hers as they lay in her lap. 

"I have had a talk with Miss Aylmer, and find that she is my friend'sniece. My benefactress, the lady who has adopted me, is aunt by marriageto the girl, who is now struggling hard to earn a living in London. Between that girl and starvation there is but a very thin wall. I am ina false position. I ought to have nothing to do with Mrs. Aylmer. Florence Aylmer is her rightful heiress; I am in the wrong place. Ithought I would speak to you. What would you advise?"

"How chivalrous you are!" said Bertha, and she looked at him again, andher queer big eyes were full of a soft light, a dangerous light ofadmiration. 

He said to himself: "I never knew before how handsome you could be attimes!" and then he turned away, as if he did not want to look at her. 

"You are very chivalrous, " she said slowly; "but what can you do?"

"You see how manifestly unfair the whole thing is, " continued the youngman. "I am no relation whatever to Mrs. Aylmer. She knew my mother, itis true; she wanted an heir, and took a fancy to me; she has promisedthat I am to inherit her wealth. Have you the least idea what her incomeis, or what wealth I am in the future likely to possess?"

"You will be a very rich man, " said Bertha slowly. 

"How do you know?"

"Because Mrs. Aylmer has a large yearly income. Her landed estates areconsiderable, and she has money in many stocks and shares. She hasenough money in English Consols alone to give you a considerable yearlyincome. Think what that means. This money you can realise at a moment'snotice. Her own income I cannot exactly tell you; but this I do know, that she does not spend half of it. Thus she is accumulating money, andshe means to give it all to you. "

"But it is unfair. It cannot be right. I will not accept it. "

"Is that kind to your mother? You left off your professional studies inorder to take your present position. You thought of your mother at thetime. You have often spoken to me about her and your great love forher. "

"I love her, and because I love her I cannot accept the present state ofthings. "

"Why did you accept them in the beginning?"

"I knew nothing of Florence Aylmer: she is the rightful heiress. "

"Do you think, if you refuse all this wealth, that she will inherit it?"

"Why not? She ought to inherit it. But there, I have spoken to you; Ihave but little more to say. My mind is made up. No objections you canurge will make me alter what I have firmly resolved to do. I shall talkto Mrs. Aylmer about her niece to-morrow. I will show her how wrong sheis. I will ask her to put that wrong right. "

Bertha gave a low laugh. The fear which had risen again in her breastwas not allowed to appear; she knew that she must be very careful or shewould betray herself. She thought for a moment; then she said softly:"You must do as you please. After all, this is scarcely my affair; but Iwill tell you what I know. "

"What is that?"

"Florence Aylmer at one time did something which offended Mrs. Aylmer. "

"Poor girl she told me so herself. What could any young girl do to havesuch a punishment meted out to her? She ought to be here in your place, Miss Keys; she ought to be here in my place. You and I are not wanted inthis establishment. "

"Oh, why do you say that? Mrs. Aylmer must have a companion. "

"Well, you can please yourself, of course; but I cannot stay to seeinjustice done to another. "

"You cannot force Mrs. Aylmer to leave her money except where shepleases. She dislikes Miss Aylmer; she will have nothing to do with her, and she will be very angry with you. You refuse the money and you do notmake things any better for Miss Aylmer. Mrs. Aylmer can leave her moneyto charities. It is easily disposed of. "

Trevor sat quite still, gazing out into the summer night. After a pausehe walked towards the window and closed it. He fastened the bolts anddrew down the blinds; then he turned to Bertha and held out his hand. 

"I thought you could have counselled me, but I see you are not on myside, " he said. "Good night. "

"There is only one thing I must add, " said Bertha. 

"What is that?"

"If you deliberately choose to injure yourself you must not injure me. "

"What do you mean by that? How can I possibly injure you?"

"You can say what you like with regard to Florence Aylmer, but you mustnot mention one fact. "

"What is that?"

"That I happen to know her. "

"What do you mean?"

"I do not choose to say what I mean. I trust to your honour not toinjure a woman quite as dependent and quite as penniless as FlorenceAylmer. I have secured this place, and I wish to stay here. If you aremad, I am sane. I ask you not to mention to Mrs. Aylmer that I knowFlorence; otherwise, you must go your own gait. "

"I will, of course, respect your confidence, but I do not understandyou. "

"Some day you will, and also what a great fool you are making ofyourself, " was Bertha's next remark. 

She sailed past him out of the room and up to her own bed-room. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

TREVOR'S RESOLVE. 

If Trevor had a fault it was obstinacy. He stayed awake for a shorttime, but finally dropped asleep, having made up his mind, of course, not to injure Bertha Keys, whom he could not understand in the least, but to have, as he expressed it, a sober talk with Mrs. Aylmer. He sawthat Bertha, for reasons of her own, was very much against this course, and he resolved to keep out of her way. He rose early and went for along ride before breakfast. He did not return until he knew Bertha wouldbe busy over household matters, and Mrs. Aylmer would in all probabilitybe alone in her private sitting-room. 

He tapped at her door between eleven and twelve o'clock, and at hersummons entered and closed it behind him. 

"Ah, Maurice, that is good, " said the lady; "come and sit near me. I amquite prepared to have a long chat with you. "

"And I want to have a long talk with you, Mrs. Aylmer, " was his answer. He drew a chair forward, and sat where he could see right out over thelandscape. 

"It is a beautiful day, " said the lady. 

"Yes, " he replied. 

"Maurice, " she said, after a pause, "you must know that I am very muchattached to you. "

"You have always been extremely good to me, " he answered. 

"I am attached to you; it is easy to be good to those one loves. I havenever had a child of my own; you stand to me in the place of a son. "

"But in reality I am not related to you, " he answered. 

She frowned slightly. 

"There are relations of the heart, " she said then. "You have touched myheart. There is nothing I would not do for you. "

Again he said: "You are very kind. "

She was silent for half a minute, then she proceeded: "You are my heir. "

He fidgeted. 

"Do not speak until I have finished. I do not like to be interrupted. You are my heir, and I mean to settle upon you immediately one thousandpounds a year for your own expenses. You can do what you please withthat money. "

"It is a great deal too much, " he said. 

"It is not; it is what you ought to have. You can give some of it toyour mother--not a great deal, but a little--and the rest you can spendon yourself, or you can hoard it, just as you like. "

"I shall not hoard it, " he answered, and his face flushed. 

"It will be yours from next month. I am expecting my lawyer, Mr. Wiltshire, to call here this afternoon. Several matters have to bearranged. Maurice, you will live with me for the present; that is, untilyou marry. "

"I do not mean to marry, " he answered. 

"All young men say that, " she replied. "You will marry as others do. You will fall in love and you will marry. I shall be very glad indeed towelcome your wife. She shall have the best and most affectionate welcomefrom me, and I will treat her as though she were my daughter: just as Itreat you, Maurice, as though you were my real son. "

"But I cannot forget that I am not your son, " he answered. "Mrs. Aylmer, there is something I must say. "

His words disturbed her for a moment; she did not speak, but looked athim in a puzzled manner; then she said: "If you have somethingdisagreeable to tell me (and I cannot imagine what it is), at least hearmy point of view first. I am particularly anxious that you should marry. As my heir, you are already comparatively rich, and your expectationsare excellent. You will have at my death a very large income. You willalso be the owner of this fine property. Now, I should like you tomarry, and I should like you to marry wealth. "

"Why so? How unfair!" said the young man. 

"It is a wish of mine. Wealth attracts wealth. There is a girl whom Ihave heard of--whom I have, I believe, some years ago seen--a verysweet, very graceful, very pretty girl. Her name is Miss Sharston. Shewas poor, but I have lately heard that Sir John Wallis, the owner ofCherry Court Park, in Buckinghamshire, is going to make her his heiress. She is coming on a visit here. I cannot, of course, force yourinclination, Maurice; but if by any chance you and Catherine Sharstonshould take a fancy to each other, it would be a union after my ownheart. "

"Thank you, " he answered. He rose immediately to his feet. "You aretreating me with your customary liberality. You have always been mostliberal, most generous. I am the son of a widow with very small means. My father was strictly a man of honour. He was a soldier, and he fell inhis country's cause. I hope that, although he could not leave me gold, he could and did leave me honour. I cannot afford to have my honourtarnished. "

"Maurice! I tarnish your honour! You really make very extraordinaryinsinuations. What does this mean?"

"You didn't think about it, dear friend; it has not occurred to you tolook at it in this light, but, believe me, such is the case. "

"Maurice!"

"I only knew of it lately, " he continued, "and by an accident. You wantto give me a great deal of money now; you want to leave me a large sumof money in the future. You propose that I shall if possible marry agirl who is also to be very rich. That is a subject which cannot even bediscussed. I do not think, whatever happens, that I could marry any girlI did not love. If this girl comes here, I shall of course be glad tomake her acquaintance, but I do not think it is right or just to her tomention such a subject in connection with her name. But to proceed toother matters. If I were to accept your offer just as you have made it, I should perhaps be able to spend my money, and perhaps in a fashion toenjoy it, but I should no longer feel happy when my brave father's namewas mentioned, nor should I feel happy when I looked into the eyes of myreal mother. "

"Go on, Maurice; this is very quixotic, very extraordinary, and, let meadd, very fatiguing, " said Mrs. Aylmer. "I make you the best offer Ihave ever made to anybody, and even you, my dear boy, must recogniselimits in our intercourse. "

"I ought not to be your heir, " he said; "I will come to the point atonce. You ought not to leave your money to me; it is not just norright. "

"And pray may I not leave my money to whom I please?"

"You ought not to leave it to me; you ought to leave it to Miss Aylmer. "

"Miss Aylmer! What Miss Aylmer?"

"Her name is Florence. I met her in London. I met her also at Dawlish. She is very poor. She is a brave girl, independent, with courage andability. She is about to make a striking success in the world ofliterature; but she is poor--poor almost to the point of starvation. Whyshould she be so struggling, and why should I, who am no relative ofyours, inherit all this wealth? It won't do, Mrs. Aylmer; and, what ismore, I won't have it. "

Mrs. Aylmer was so absolutely astonished that she did not speak at allfor a moment. 

"You are mad, " she said then slowly. 

"No, I am not mad: I am sane. I shall be very glad to receive a littlehelp from you. I shall be your devoted son in all but name, but I do notwant your money: I mean I don't want any longer to be your heir. Giveyour wealth to Florence Aylmer, and forget that you have made thissuggestion to me. Believe me, you will be happy if you do so. "

"Are you in love with this girl?" said Mrs. Aylmer slowly. 

"You have no right to ask the question; but I will answer it. I do notthink I am in love with her. I believe I am actuated by a sense ofjustice. I want you to do justice to this girl, and I want to give youin return my undying gratitude and undying respect. "

"Indeed; what valuable possessions! Now, my dear Maurice, you have justgone a step too far. As you have spoken of Florence Aylmer, I will tellyou something about her. There was a time when I intended to leave hermy money. I intended to adopt her, to educate her, to bring her out asmy niece and heiress. She herself by her own unworthy conduct preventedmy doing so. She acted in a most dishonourable way. I will not tell youwhat she did, but if you wish to know farther go and see Sir JohnWallis, of Cherry Court Park, and ask him what he thinks of FlorenceAylmer. "

"Then you refuse to do what I ask?"

"I utterly and absolutely refuse to leave Florence Aylmer one halfpennyof my money; and, what is more, the thousand a year which I intend tosettle on you will be only given on condition that you do not helpFlorence Aylmer with one penny of it. Do not answer me now. You areyoung and impulsive; not a word more at present. I will ask Mr. Wiltshire to postpone his visit for three months. During that time youcan consider matters. During that time I expect everything to go on justas usual. During part of that time Miss Sharston and her father and alsoSir John Wallis will be my guests. At the end of that time I will againhave an interview with you. But unless you promise to give up yourpresent mad ideas, and to let Miss Aylmer pursue her own career, unhelped by you, unmolested by you, I shall find another heir or heiressfor my property. "

"I don't want the time to consider, " said Maurice, whose face now waswhite with suppressed feeling. "Let your lawyer come now, Mrs. Aylmer;my mind is made up. "

"I will not take your decision now, you foolish boy. You are bound, because of my kindness in the past, to take three months to considerthis matter. But leave me; I am tired. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

AT AYLMER'S COURT. 

Aylmer's Court was in the full perfection of its autumn beauty when SirJohn Wallis, accompanied by Kitty Sharston and her father, drove up thewinding avenue as Mrs. Aylmer's guests. A private omnibus from Aylmer'sCourt was sent to the railway station to meet them, and their luggagewas now piled up high on the roof. 

Sir John Wallis did not look a day older than when we last saw him inall the glories of his own house, surrounded by the girls whom he hadmade happy. 

Kitty was seated beside her father and opposite to her old friend. Shelooked sweet and bright, with that gentle, high-bred, intelligentexpression which she always wore. Kitty's heart was no longer empty orsad. Her beloved father had come back to live with her, she hoped, aslong as life lasted. Her old friend, Sir John Wallis, had only recentlydeclared her his heiress; and, although Kitty would never leave herfather for anything that mere money could offer, she was glad to feelthat he was no longer anxious about her future. 

As to Kitty, herself, however rich she might be, she would always besimple-hearted and think of wealth in the right spirit; for what itcould do to promote the happiness of others, and not merely as a meansof increasing her own splendour or silly pleasures. 

"You have two fathers, you know, Kitty, " said Sir John, as they drove upthe avenue. "You are bound to be a very circumspect young lady, as youare under such strict surveillance. "

"You need not suppose for a single moment that I am the least afraid ofeither of you, " was her answer, and she gave her head a little tosswhich was not in the least saucy, but was very pretty to see. 

Colonel Sharston smiled and turned to his friend. 

"How is it that we have accepted this invitation?" he said. "I do notknow Mrs. Aylmer. What sort of woman is she?"

"Oh, a very estimable person. I have known her for many years. I feltthat we could not do less than give her a few days of our company, andAylmer's Court is a beautiful place. "

So it truly was--the park undulating away to the edge of the landscape, and acres and acres of forest-land being visible in every direction. There was a lake a little way to the left of the house, on which a smallpleasure-boat was now being rowed. In that boat sat a girl dressed indark blue, with a sailor hat on her head. Kitty bent forward; then sheglanced at Sir John Wallis and suddenly squeezed his hand. 

"Do you know who is rowing on the lake?" she said. 

"Who, my dear? Why, Kitty, you have turned quite white. "

"I met her before, but, do you know, I had absolutely forgotten it. Sheis Mrs. Aylmer's companion, and I believe her right hand. "

"But who is she, dear? What is the matter? You look quite ill. "

"Don't you remember Bertha Keys?"

"Miss Keys; why, that was the girl who behaved so badly at the time whenI offered my scholarship, was it not?"

"The very same girl, " said Kitty. 

"And what do you want me to do regarding her, Kitty?"

"I do not know. I don't want to do her any injury. Don't be surprisedwhen you meet her, that is all, and--"

"Kitty, your heart is a great deal too tender. You ought not to belongto this evil world at all, " said Sir John, while her father looked atKitty and asked for an explanation. 

"Another time, father. All Sir John has to do is to treat Miss Keys asif he had never met her before. "

"Well, I daresay I can manage more than that for your sake, Kitty; andnow, here we are at the house. "

Mrs. Aylmer and her adopted son, Maurice Trevor, were standing on thesteps to meet their guests. The moment she saw Trevor, Kitty smiled andtook an eager step forward to meet him. He held out his hand. 

"This is a real pleasure, " she said. "I had forgotten all about yourbeing here. Do you remember Dawlish?"

"Of course I do, " he answered. "I do not easily forget pleasantoccasions. "

Mrs. Aylmer now turned to Kitty, took her hand in hers, and, turning hergently round, looked into her face. It was a good face, eyes of thesweetest grey, delicate colouring, an intelligent forehead, lips trueand pure and honest. Mrs. Aylmer scarcely knew why she sighed, and whya wish rose up in her heart that she had never felt before: thatMaurice, the boy she truly loved, should really like and marry thisgirl. Just for the moment she forgot all about Kitty's futurecircumstances; she welcomed her for herself. 

"Would you like to go for a walk before dinner?" said Trevor. "Miss Keysis rowing on the lake; we will go to meet her. "

"I should be delighted. May I go, father?" said Kitty. 

"Certainly, my love. "

"Then will you two gentlemen come into the house?" said Mrs. Aylmer. Shenodded to Trevor, who walked off immediately with Kitty. As soon as theygot out of ear-shot, Kitty faced her companion. 

"I never knew that I should meet you here. I am so glad. I heard fromFlorence a few days ago; she said you were so good and kind to her whenyou were in London. I must thank you now in her name. "

"I should like to be kind to her, but in reality I was able to do onlyvery little for her, " said Trevor. "Does she write often to you? How isshe getting on?"

"She seems to me to be getting on in the most wonderful way. She hasquite a considerable amount of literary work to do. Two of her storieshave already been accepted, and she is asked to do a third, and I haveno doubt that other work also will fall in her way. She will now be ableto support herself comfortably. I cannot tell you what a relief it is tome. "

Trevor smiled. 

"She is wonderfully clever and interesting, " he said. "I am glad she isyour friend. She has talked to me about you and----"

Just at that moment Bertha Keys, having moored her little boat came tomeet them. 

She came straight up to Kitty and spoke in a defiant voice, and as ifshe were talking to a perfect stranger. 

"How do you do?" she said. "I suppose I must introduce myself. My nameis Miss Keys. I am Mrs. Aylmer's companion. I shall be pleased to doeverything I can to promote your comfort while at Aylmer's Court. Haveyou been here long?"

"Only a few moments, " answered Kitty, taking her cue, "and Mr. Trevorhas most kindly offered to show me round the place. I am so tired ofsitting still that it is delightful to move about again. "

"Then I won't keep you. Dinner is at half-past seven, and thedressing-gong sounds at seven. Mrs. Aylmer's maid will help you todress, Miss Sharston--that is, unless you have brought your own. "

"Oh, I don't keep a maid, " said Kitty merrily; "I hate maids, and in anycase I am not rich enough to afford one. "

Miss Keys raised her brows in a somewhat supercilious way. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

BERTHA'S SECRET. 

The two young people walked about, talking of nothing in particular, until at last it was time for them both to return to the house. Kittywent up to her own room, managed to dress before Mrs. Aylmer's maidappeared, and then proceeded to the drawing-room. There she found Berthaalone. She went straight up to her. 

"Do you wish it known?" she said. 

"Wish what known? I do not understand, " replied Bertha. 

Bertha was looking her very best in a black lace dress with some Gloirede Dijon roses in her belt. She raised her eyes and fixed theminsolently on Kitty. 

"Do I wish what known?" she repeated. 

"Why, that I met you, that I knew you, you understand. You mustunderstand. I thought, as you were here, that it would injure you if Ispoke of it. "

Bertha suddenly took hold of Kitty's hands and drew her into the recessby the window. 

"Keep it a secret, " she said; "pretend you never knew me. Don't tellyour father; don't tell Sir John. "

"But Sir John remembers you--he must remember you. You know whathappened at Cherry Court School. How can he possibly forget?"

"I shall be ruined if it is known. Mrs. Aylmer must not know. Get SirJohn to keep it a secret; you must--you shall. "

"I have asked him not to speak of it; but I must understand how you cameto be here. I will say nothing to-night. To-morrow I will speak to you, "said Kitty. 

Just then other people entered the drawing-room, and the two girlsimmediately separated. 

Sir John, having taken his cue from Kitty, treated Miss Keys as astranger. She was very daring and determined, and she looked better thanshe had ever looked in her life before. Her eyes were shining and herclear complexion grew white and almost dazzling. No circumstance couldever provoke colour into her cheeks, but she always looked her very bestat night, and no dress became her like black lace, so dazzlingly fairwere her neck and arms, so brilliant her plentiful hair. 

Sir John and Colonel Sharston looked at her more than once--Sir Johnwith that knowledge in his eyes which Bertha knew quite well hepossessed, and Colonel Sharston with undisguised admiration. 

In the course of the evening the Colonel beckoned Kitty to his side. 

"I like the appearance of that girl, " he said; "but she has a strangeface: she must have a history. Why are we not to mention to Mrs. Aylmerthat you already knew her, Kitty?"

"I will tell you another time, father, " answered Kitty. Then she added, in a low voice: "Oh, I am sorry for her, very sorry. It might ruin her, father, if it were known; you would not ruin her, would you?"

"Of course not, my dear child, and I will certainly respect your wish. "

The next day, after breakfast, Kitty found herself alone with Bertha. Bertha was feeding some pigeons in a dove-cote not far from the house. Kitty ran up to her and touched her on the arm. 

"I have made up my mind, " said Kitty. 

"Yes?" answered Bertha. 

There was a fresh note in Kitty's voice--a note of resolve. Her eyeslooked full of determination; she was holding herself very erect. Berthahad never been worried by the thought of Kitty: a girl in her opinion soinsignificant. Now she looked at her with a new feeling of terror andalso respect. 

"I don't understand, " she said; "in what way have you made up yourmind?"

"I have spoken to Sir John and also to my father. They know--they cannothelp knowing--that I knew you, and that my dear friend, Sir John Wallis, knew you some years ago; but we do not want to injure you, so we willnot say a word about it. You can rest quite content; we will not talk ofyour past. "

"In particular you will not talk of my past to Mr. Trevor?"

"No, not even to Mr. Trevor. In short, " continued Kitty, "we have madeup our minds to respect your secret, but on a condition. "

"Yes?" said Bertha. She spoke in a questioning tone. 

"As long as you behave in a perfectly straightforward way; as long as Ihave no reason to feel that you are doing anything underhand toanybody's name, we will respect your secret and leave you undisturbedin the possession of your present post. I think, " continued Kitty, "thatI partly understand matters. You have come here without telling Mrs. Aylmer what occurred at Cherry Court School and at Cherry Court Park;you don't want her to know how terribly you injured my great friend, Florence Aylmer. If you will leave Florence alone now, if you will donothing further in any way to injure her, I and those I belong to willrespect your secret. But if I find that you are tampering withFlorence's happiness, then my duty will be plain. "

"What will your duty be?" said Bertha. As she spoke she held out a lumpof sugar to a pretty white fantail which came flying to receive it. Sheraised her eyes as she spoke and looked full at Kitty. 

"I shall tell what I know, " said Kitty. "I think that is all. " Sheturned on her heel and walked away. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A SMILING WORLD. 

Things were going well now with Florence Aylmer. She was earning money, and it was unnecessary for her to live any longer in the top attic ofPrince's Mansions. She had got over her first discomfort; her conscienceno longer pricked her; she took an interest in the situation, andsometimes laughed softly to herself. She knew that she was losing a gooddeal: that the worth and stability of her character were being slowlyundermined. But she was winning success: the world was smiling at herjust because she was successful, and she resolved to go on now, defyingfate. 

She wrote often to her mother and to Kitty Sharston, and told both hermother and Kitty of her successes. She never wrote to Bertha exceptabout business. Bertha as a rule, enclosed directed envelopes toherself, so that Florence's writing should not be seen by Mrs. Aylmer orTrevor or any guests who might be staying in the house. Bertha was verywise in her generation, and when she did a wrong thing she knew at leasthow to do that wrong thing cleverly. 

Florence was now quite friendly with Edith Franks. Edith took aninterest in her; she still believed that there was something behind thescenes--something which she could not quite fathom--but at the sametime she fully and with an undivided heart believed in Florence's greatgenius, as did also her brother Tom. 

By Edith's advice Florence secured the room next to hers, and the girlswere now constantly together. Tom often dropped in during the evenings, and took them many times to the play. 

Florence began to own that life could be enjoyable even with a heavyconscience and tarnished honour. She was shocked with herself forfeeling so. She knew that she had fallen a good many steps lower thanshe had fallen long ago when she was an inmate of Cherry Court School;nevertheless, there seemed no hope or chance of going back. She had togo forward and trust to her secret never being discovered. 

Early in November, or, rather, the latter end of October, her firststory was published in the _Argonaut_. It was sufficiently striking, terse, and original to receive immediate attention from more than onegood review. She was spoken of as a young writer of great promise, and awell-known critic took the trouble to write a short paper on her story. This mention gave her, as Tom assured her, a complete success. She wasquoted in several society journals, and one well-known paper asked forher photograph. All the expectations of the _Argonaut_ were more thanrealised, and some people said that Florence was the coming woman, andthat her writings would be quite as popular as those of the best-knownAmerican fiction writers. Hers was the first short story of any promisewhich had appeared in the English magazines for some time. The nextfrom her pen was eagerly awaited, and it was decided that it was to bepublished in the December number. 

Bertha, having provided Florence with the story, she carefully re-wroteit in her own hand, and it was sent to the editor. It was a better storythan the first, but more critical. There was a cruel note about it. Itwas harrowing. It seemed to go right down into the heart, and to pierceit with a note of pain. It was a wonderful story for a girl ofFlorence's age to have written. The editor was charmed. 

"I don't like the tone of the story, " he said to Franks; "I don't thinkthat I should particularly care to have its author for my wife ordaughter, but its genius is undoubted. That girl will make a very bigmark. We have been looking for someone like her for a long time. We havehad no big stars in our horizon. She may do anything if she goes on aswell as she has begun. "

"And yet she does not look specially clever, " said Franks, in acontemplative voice. "Her speech is nothing at all remarkable; in fact, in conversation I think her rather dull than otherwise. "

"I was taken with her face on the whole, " said the editor; "it wasstrong, I think, and, with all our knowledge, we can never tell what isinside a brain. She at least has a remarkable one, Franks. We must makemuch of her: I don't want her to be snapped up by other editors. We mustraise her terms. I will give her three guineas a thousand words for thisnew story. "

Franks called upon his sister and Florence Aylmer on the evening of theday when the editor of the _Argonaut_ made this remark: he found themboth in his sister's comfortable room. Florence was reclining on thesofa, and Edith was busily engaged over some of her biologicalspecimens. 

"Oh, dear!" said Franks, as he entered the room; "why do you bring thosehorrors home, Edith?"

"They are all right; I keep them in spirit, " she replied. "Don'tinterrupt me; go and talk to Florence: she is in a bad humour thisevening. "

"In a bad humour, are you?" said Franks. He drew a chair up, and sat atthe foot of Florence's sofa. 

She was nicely dressed, her hair was fashionably arranged, she had lostthat look of hunger which had made her face almost painful to see, andshe received Franks with a coolness which was new-born within her. 

"I don't know why you should be depressed, " he said; "anyhow, I hope tohave the great pleasure of driving the evil spirits away. I have comewith good news. "

"Indeed!" answered Florence. 

"Yes; my editor, Mr. Anderson, is so pleased with your second story, 'The Judas Tree, ' that he is going to raise his terms. You are toreceive three guineas a thousand words for your manuscript. It is, Ithink, exactly six thousand words in length. He has asked me to hand youa cheque to-night. Will you accept it?"

As Franks spoke, he took out his pocket-book and handed Florence acheque for eighteen guineas. 

"You will be a rich girl before long, " he said. 

"It seems like it, " she answered. She glanced at the cheque without anyadditional colour coming to her face, and laid it quietly on a littletable by her side. 

"And now, Miss Aylmer, there is something I specially want you to dofor me. I hope you will not refuse it. "

"I will certainly do what I can, " she answered. 

"It is this. The _Argonaut_ is, of course, our monthly magazine. Itholds the very first position amongst the six-pennies, and has, as youdoubtless know, an enormous circulation. You will very soon be thefashion. We are about to issue a weekly paper, a sort of review. Wetrust it will eclipse even the _Spectator_ and the _Saturday_, and wewant a paper from your pen. We want it to be on a special subject--asubject which is likely to cause attention. Can you and will you do it?Anderson begged of me to put the question to you, and I do so also on myown account. "

"But what subject do you want me to write upon?" said Florence, feelingsick and faint, and yet not knowing at first how to reply. 

"The subject is to be about women as they are. They are coming to thefront, and I want you to talk about them just as you please. You may besatirical or not, as it strikes your fancy. I want you in especial toattack them with regard to the æsthetic craze which is so much infashion now. If you like to show them that they look absolutely foolishin their greenery-yallery gowns, and their hair done up in a wisp, andall the rest of the thing, why, do so; then you can throw in a noteabout a girl like my sister. "

"Oh, come!" exclaimed Edith, from her distant table, "that would behorribly unfair. "

"Anyhow, I want you to write about woman in her improved aspects; thatis the main thing, " said Franks. "Will you do it or will you not?"

Florence thought for a wild moment. It would be impossible for Bertha tohelp her with this paper. She could not get information orsubject-matter in time. Dare she do it?

"I would rather not, " she said. 

Franks face fell. 

"That is scarcely kind, " he said; "you simply must do it. "

"You will not refuse Tom, " said Edith, who had apparently not beenlistening, but who now jumped up and came forward. "What is it, Tom?What do you want Florence to do?"

Tom briefly explained matters. 

"It is for our new venture, " he said. "Miss Aylmer is scarcely thefashion yet, but she soon will be. It is to be a signed article--'Womanin Her Many Crazes' can be the title. No one can know more on the matterthan she does. "

"Oh, I'll prime you up with facts, if that is all, " said Edith; "youmust do it: it would be most ungenerous and unkind to refuse Tom afterthe way he has brought you to the front. "

"But I must refuse, " said Florence. She rose from the sofa; her facelooked pale with desperation. 

"That horrid secret, whatever it is, is beginning to awake once more, "thought the astute Edith to herself. She looked at Florence with whatTom called her scientific face. 

"Sit down, " she said, "sit down. Why should you not do it?"

"Because I am no good at all with that class of paper. "

"But your style will be invaluable, and you need not say much, " saidFranks. "We want just the same simple terse, purely Saxon style. We wantone or two of your ideas. You need not make it three thousand wordslong: it does not really matter. You will be well paid. I have theeditor's permission to offer you twelve guineas. Surely you will notrefuse such a valuable cheque. "

Florence looked with almost vacant eyes at the cheque which was lying onthe table near her. The whole thing seemed like black magic. 

"I suppose I must try, " she said; "I have never written any prose worthreading in my life. You will be dreadfully disappointed; I know youwill. "

"I am quite certain we shall not be disappointed; anyhow, I am going torisk it. You must not go back on your promise. Write your paperto-morrow morning when you are fresh; then post it to me in the evening. Good-bye. I am awfully obliged to you. "

The young journalist took his departure before Florence had time torealise what she had done. She heard his steps descending the stairs, and then turned with lack-leisure eyes to Edith. 

"What have I done?" she cried. 

"Done?" said Edith, in a tone of some impatience. "Why, your duty, ofcourse. You could not refuse Tom after all his kindness to you. Wherewould you be but for him--but for me? Do you suppose that, just becauseyou are clever, you would have reached the position you have done if ithad not been for my brother? You must do your very best for him. "

"Oh, don't scold me, please, Edith, " said poor Florence. 

"I don't mean to; but really your queer ways of accepting Tom's favoursexasperate me now and then. "

"Perhaps I had better go to my own room, " said Florence. "I am in yourway, am I not?"

"When you talk nonsense you are. When you are sensible I delight to haveyou here. Lie down on the sofa once more, and go on reading this lastnovel of George Eliot's: it will put some grit into you. "

Edith returned once more to her task, lit a strong lamp which she hadgot for this special purpose, put on her magnifying-glasses, adjustedher microscope, and set to work. 

Florence knew that she was lost to all externals for the next hour orso. She herself took up her book and tried to read. Half an hour beforethis book had interested her, now she found it dry as sawdust; she couldnot follow the argument nor interest herself in the tale. She let itdrop on her lap, and stared straight before her. How was she to do thatwhich she said she would do? Her crutch was no longer available. Theghost who really supplied all her brilliant words and felicitous turnsof speech and quaint ideas was not to be secured on any termswhatsoever. What could she do?

She felt restless and uncomfortable. 

"I did wrong ever to consent to it, but now that I have begun I must goon taking in the golden sovereigns, " she said to herself, and she tookup the cheque for eighteen guineas, looked at it eagerly, and put itinto her purse. Starvation was indeed now far removed. Florence couldhelp her mother and support herself; but, nevertheless, although she wasnow well fed and well clothed and comfortably housed, she at thatmoment had the strongest regret of all her life for the old hungry dayswhen she had been an honest, good girl, repentant of the folly of heryouth, and able with a clear conscience to look all men in the face. 

"But as I have begun I must go on, " she said to herself. "To courtdiscovery now would be madness. I cannot, I will not court it. Come whatmay, I must write that article. How am I to do it, and in twenty-fourhours? Oh, if I could only telegraph to Bertha!"

CHAPTER XXIX. 

ALMOST BETRAYED. 

Florence spent a restless night. She rose early in the morning, avoidedEdith, and went off as soon as she could to the British Museum. Sheresolved to write her article in the reading-room. She was soon suppliedwith books and pamphlets on the subject, and began to read them. Herbrain felt dull and heavy; her restless night had not improved hermental powers; try hard as she would, she could not think. She had neverbeen a specially good writer of the Queen's English, but she had neverfelt worse or more incapable of thought than she did this morning. Writesomething, however, she must. Tossed about as she had been in the world, she had not studied the thoughts of men and women on this specialsubject. She could not, therefore, seize the salient points from thepamphlets and books which she glanced through. 

The paper was at last produced, and was not so good as the ordinaryschoolgirl's essay. It was feeble, without metaphor, without point, without illustration. She did not dare to read it over twice. 

"It must go, " she said to herself; "I can make up for it by a speciallybrilliant story of Bertha's for the next number. What will Mr. Frankssay? I only trust he won't find me out. "

She directed her miserable manuscript to Thomas Franks, Esq. , at theoffice of the _Argonaut_, and as she left the museum late in theafternoon of that day dropped the packet into the pillar-box. She thenwent home. 

Edith Franks was waiting for her, and Edith happened to be in aspecially good humour. 

"Have you done the article?" she said. 

"Yes, " replied Florence, in a low voice. 

"I am glad of it. I felt quite uneasy about you. You seemed so unwillingto do such a simple thing last night. "

"It was not at all a simple thing to me. I am no good at anything exceptfiction. "

Edith gave her foot an impatient stamp. 

"Don't talk rubbish, " she said; "you know perfectly well that your stylemust come to your aid in whatever you try to write. Then your fiction isnot so remarkable for plot as for the careful development of characterand your pithy remarks. Your powers of epigram would be abundantlybrought to the fore in such a subject as Tom asked you to write about. But never mind, my dear, it is your pleasure to duplicate yourself--I donot think it is at all a worldly-wise habit; but, of course, that isyour affair. Now come into the dining-saloon at once. I have good newsfor you. Tom has obtained tickets for us all three to see Irving in hisgreat piece--'The Bells. '"

Florence certainly was cheered up by this news. She wanted to forgetherself, to forget the miserable article which she vainly and withoutreal knowledge of the ordinary duties of an editor hoped that Tom Frankswould not even read. She ate her dinner with appetite, and wentupstairs to her room in high good humour. Her means were sufficientlygood to enable her to dress prettily, and she, Edith, and Tom foundthemselves just before the curtain rose in comfortable stalls at thetheatre. Franks was in an excellent humour and in high spirits. Hechatted merrily to both girls, and Florence had never looked better. Franks gave her a glance of downright admiration from time to time. Suddenly he bent forward and whispered to her: "What about my article?"

"I posted it to you some hours ago, " she answered. 

"Ah! that is good. " A smile of contentment played round his lips. "Ilook forward most eagerly to reading it in the morning, " he said: "itwill be at my office by the first post, of course. "

"I suppose so, " said Florence, in a listless voice. Her gaiety and goodhumour suddenly deserted her. 

The play proceeded; Edith was all critical attention, Franks also warmlyapproved, and Florence forgot herself in her absorbing interest. Butbetween the acts the thought of her miserable schoolgirl essay came backto haunt her. Just before the curtain rose for the final act she touchedFranks on his sleeve. 

"What is it?" he said, looking at her. 

"I wish you would make me a promise. "

"What is that?"

"Don't read the stuff I have sent you; it is not good. If you don't likeit, send it back to me. "

"I cannot do that, for I have advertised your name. You simply must putsomething into the first number, but of course it will be good: youcould not write anything poor. "

"Oh, you don't know. Mine is a queer brain: sometimes it won't act atall. I was not pleased with the article. Perhaps the public wouldoverlook it, if you would only promise not to read it. "

"My dear Miss Aylmer, I would do a great deal for you, but now you askfor the impossible. I must read what you have written. I have no doubt Ishall be charmed with it. "

Florence sat back in her seat; she could do nothing further. 

The next day, when he arrived at his office, Tom Franks eagerly pouncedupon Florence's foolscap envelope. He tore it open and began to read thesilly stuff she had written. He had not gone half-way down the firstpage before the whole expression of his face altered. Bewilderment, astonishment, almost disgust, spread themselves over his features. Heturned page after page, looked back at the beginning, glanced at theend, then set himself deliberately to digest Florence's poor attemptfrom the first word to the last. He flung the paper from him with agesture of despair. Had she done it to trick him? Positively theproduction was scarcely respectable. A third-form schoolgirl would havedone better. There were even one or two mistakes in spelling, thegrammar was slipshod, the different utterances what few schoolgirlswould have attempted to make: so banal, so threadbare, so used-up werethey. Where was that terse and vigorous style? Where were thoseepigrammatic utterances? Where was the pure Saxon which had delightedhis scholarly mind in the stories which she had written?

He rang his office bell sharply. A clerk appeared. 

"Bring me the last number of the _Argonaut_, " he said. 

It was brought immediately, and Franks opened it at Florence's laststory. He read a sentence or two, compared the style of the story withthe style of the article, and finally shut up the _Argonaut_ and wentinto his chief's room. 

"I have a disappointment for you, Mr. Anderson, " he said. 

"What is that, Franks?" asked the chief, raising his head from a pile ofpapers over which he was bending. 

"Why, our _rara avis_, our new star of the literary firmament, has cometo a complete collapse. Something has snuffed her out; she has writtenrubbish. "

"What? you surely do not allude to Miss Aylmer?"

"I do. I asked her to do a paper for the _General Review_, thinking thather name would be a great catch in the first number. She consented, Imust say with some unwillingness, and sent me _this_. Look it over andtell me what you think. "

Mr. Anderson read the first one or two sentences. 

"She must have done it to play a trick on us, " he said; "it isabsolutely impossible that this can be her writing. "

"It cannot be printed, " said Franks; "what is to be done?"

"You had better go and see her at once. Have you any explanation tooffer?"

"None; it must be a trick. See for yourself how her opening sentencestarts in this story: there is a dignity about each word; the style isbeautiful. Compare it with this. " As Franks spoke he pointed to aparagraph of the _Argonaut_ and a paragraph in poor Florence's essay. "Iwill rush off at once and see if I can find her, " he said; "she musthave sent this to pay me out. She did not want to write; I did not thinkshe would be so disobliging. "

"Offer her bigger terms to send us a paper to-morrow. We must overlookthis very shabby trick she has played on us. "

"Of course, the thing could not possibly be printed, " said Franks. "Iwill go and see her. "

He snatched up his hat, hailed a hansom, and drove straight to Prince'sMansions, and arrived there just as Florence was going out. She turnedpale when she saw him. One glance at his face made her fear the worst. He had found her out. She leant up against the lintel of the door. 

"What is it?" she said. 

He glanced at her, and said, in a gruff voice: "Come up to my sister'sroom. I must speak to you. "

They went upstairs together. As soon as they entered the room, Florenceturned and faced Franks. 

"You--of course you won't use it?"

"No; how can I use it? It is stuff; it is worse: it is nursery nonsense. Why did you send it to me? I did not think that you would play me such atrick. "

"I told you I could only write fiction. "

"Nonsense, nonsense! I might have expected something poor compared toyour fiction; but at least you did know the Queen's English: you didknow how to spell. You have behaved very badly, and it is only becausethe governor and I feel certain that this is a trick that we put upwith it. Come, have we not offered you enough? I will pay you a littlemore, but another essay I must have, and in twenty-four hours from thepresent time. "

"And suppose I refuse?"

"In that case, Miss Aylmer, I shall be driven to conclude that yourtalent was but fictitious, and that--"

"That I am a humbug?" said Florence. A look came into her eyes which hecould not quite fathom. It was a hungry look. They lit up for a moment, then faded, then an expression of resolve crept round her lips. 

"I will write something, " she said; "but give me two days instead ofone. "

"What do you mean by two days?"

"I cannot let you have it to-morrow evening; you shall have it theevening after. It shall be good; it shall be my best. Give me time. "

"That's right, " he said, grasping her hand. "Upon my word you gave me ahorrid fright. Don't play that sort of trick again, that's all. We areto have that article, then, in two days?"

"Yes, yes. "

He left her. The moment he had done so Florence snatched up the paperwhich he had brought back, tore it into a hundred fragments, thrust thefragments into the fire, and rushed downstairs. She herself wasdesperate now. She went to the nearest telegraph-office and sent thefollowing message to Bertha Keys:--

"Expect me at Aylmer's Court to-morrow at ten. Must see you. You canmanage so that my aunt does not know. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE TELEGRAM. 

The Sharstons and Sir John Wallis were enjoying themselves very much atAylmer's Court. Mrs. Aylmer exerted herself to be specially agreeable. She could, when she liked, put aside her affected manner: she could openout funds of unexpected knowledge: she at least knew her own countrywell: she took her guests to all sorts of places of local interest: shehad the best of the neighbours to dine in the evenings: she had goodmusic and pleasant recitations and round games for the young folks, anddancing on more than one occasion in the great hall. The time passed onwings, and the three guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves. 

Both Trevor and Bertha were greatly responsible for this happy state ofthings. Bertha, having quickly discovered that Kitty would not betrayher secret, resumed that manner which had always made her popular. Bertha, in reality one of the most selfish women who ever lived--who hadwrecked more lives than one in the course of her unscrupulouscareer--could be to all appearance the most absolutely unselfish. Ingreat things she was selfish to the point of cruelty; in little thingsshe completely forgot herself. So day after day, by tact, by apparentkindness, by much cleverness, she led the conversation into thebrightest channels. She suggested, without seeming to suggest, this andthat way of passing the time. She was always ready to play anybody'saccompaniment or any amount of dance music: to lead the games: topromote the sports. Kitty could not help owning that she was charming. Now and then, it is true, she sighed to herself and wished that shecould forget that dark spot in Bertha's past. 

Sir John Wallis looked often at the strange girl with a feeling ofsurprise struggling with a new-born respect. After all, was he to bringup this girl's past to her? She had conquered, no doubt. She had turnedover a new leaf. Of course, he and Kitty and his old friend, ColonelSharston, would never breathe a word to injure her. And Bertha, who wasquick to read approval in the eyes of those she wished to please, felther heart grow light within her, and thought little of danger. 

Trevor, too, was more or less off his guard. He knew what Mrs. Aylmerexpected of him, but he resolved to shut away the knowledge. He likedKitty most heartily for herself. She was a charming companion: she wasone of the most amiable and one of the sweetest girls he had ever met;but the sore feeling in his heart of hearts with regard to Florencenever deserted him, and it was her image which rose before his eyes whenhe looked at Kitty, and it was about Florence he liked best to speak. Kitty added to all her other charms by being delighted to talk on thiscongenial theme. She and Trevor often went away for long walks together, and during those walks they talked of Florence, and Trevor gradually butsurely began to give some of his confidences to his young companion andto tell her how bitterly he felt the position in which Mrs. Aylmer hadplaced her own niece. 

"I cannot take her place, " he said; "you would not if you were placed inthe same position?"

"If I were you I would not, " said Kitty, in her gentle voice; but thenshe added, with a sigh: "I do not think even you know Mrs. Aylmer. Florence used to tell me all about her long ago. She is a very strangewoman. Although she is so kind to us, I am afraid she is terriblyunforgiving; I do not think she will ever forgive poor Flo. "

Trevor was silent for a moment, then he said slowly: "This mystery ofthe past, am I never to know about it?"

Kitty looked at him, and her gentle grey eyes flashed. "You are never toknow about it from me, " she said. 

He bowed, and immediately turned the conversation. 

A fortnight had nearly gone by, and the guests now felt themselvesthoroughly at home at Aylmer's Court, when late one afternoon thetelegraph-boy was seen coming down the avenue. He met Trevor and askedhim immediately if Miss Keys were at home. Trevor replied that he didnot know where Miss Keys was. It turned out that she had been away forseveral hours. Trevor consented to take charge of the telegram. As noanswer was possible, the boy departed on his way. 

Bertha had gone to see an old lady for Mrs. Aylmer, and did not comehome until it was time to dress for dinner. It was quite late, for theydined at a fashionable hour. The telegram was lying on the hall table. She saw that it was addressed to herself, started, for she did not oftenreceive telegrams, and tore it open. Its contents certainly were thereverse of reassuring. If Florence appeared on the scene now, whatincalculable mischief she might effect! How could she, Bertha, stop theheadstrong girl? She glanced at the clock and stamped her foot withimpatience. The little telegraph-office in the nearest village had beenclosed for the last hour and a half. It would be impossible, except bygoing by train to the nearest town, to send off a telegram that night. 

Bertha went up to her room, feeling intensely uncomfortable. In spite ofall her efforts, she could scarcely maintain conversation during theevening which followed. 

In the course of that evening Trevor asked her if she had received hertelegram. 

"It came two or three hours ago, " he said; "the messenger wanted to waitfor an answer, but I knew there was no use in that, as you would not behome until late. I hope you have had no bad news. "

"Irritating news, " she replied, in a whisper; "pray don't speak of it tothe others. I don't want it mentioned that I have had a telegram. "

He glanced at her, and slightly raised his brows. She saw that he wasdisturbed, and that a sort of suspicion was stealing over him. She camenearer, and by way of looking over the illustrated paper which he wasglancing through, said, in a very low voice: "It was from FlorenceAylmer. She has got herself into a fresh scrape, I am afraid. "

He threw back his head with an impatient movement. 

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, but if you wish to do her a good turn you will not mentionthe fact that I have received this telegram. "

There was nothing more to be said, and Trevor walked across the room tothe piano. He and Kitty both had good voices, and they sang some duetstogether. 

During the night which followed Bertha slept but little. Again and againshe took up Florence's telegram and looked at it. She would be atHamslade, the nearest station to Aylmer's Court, between nine and teno'clock. Bertha resolved, come what would, to meet her at the station. 

"Whatever happens, she must not come here, " thought Bertha; "but how amI to get to the station, so early too, just when Mrs. Aylmer wants mefor a hundred things? Stay, though: I have an idea. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

BERTHA WRITES THE ESSAY. 

Bertha got up early next morning to act upon the idea that had occurredto her on the previous evening. She ran downstairs and had a privateinterview with the cook. It was Mrs. Aylmer's custom, no matter whatguests were present, to breakfast in her room, and immediately afterbreakfast Bertha, as a rule, waited on her to receive her orders for theday. These orders were then conveyed to the cook and to the rest of theservants. 

Breakfast was never over at Aylmer's Court until long past nine o'clock, and if Bertha wished to keep Florence from putting in a most undesiredappearance, she must be at Hamslade Station at half-past nine. She had achat with the cook and then wrote a brief note to Mrs. Aylmer. It ran asfollows:--

"I am going in the dogcart to Hamslade. Have just ascertained that thepheasants we intended to have for dinner to-day are not forthcoming. Will wire for some to town, and also for peaches. I will leave a linewith Kitty Sharston to take the head of the table at breakfast. "

"She will be awfully cross about it all, " thought Bertha, "and, ofcourse, it is a lie, for there is plenty of game in the larder, and wehave an abundant supply of peaches and apricots, but any port in astorm, and cook will not betray me. "

The dogcart was round at the door sharp at nine o'clock, and Bertha, having sent up a twisted bit of paper to Kitty's bed-room, asking her topour out coffee, started on her way. She reached the station a littlebefore the train came in, and sent the necessary telegrams to the shopsin London with which they constantly dealt. 

A large party was expected to dine at Aylmer's Court that night, whichwas Bertha's excuse for ordering the fruit and game. The train wasrather late, which added to her impatience. She paced up and down theplatform, and when at last Florence's anxious, perturbed face appeared, Bertha was by no means in the best of humours. 

"What mad craze is this?" she cried. "You know you cannot possibly cometo Aylmer's Court. I came here to prevent it. Now, what is it you wantwith me?"

"I must speak to you, and at once, Bertha. "

"Come into the waiting-room for a moment. You must return by the nexttrain, Florence; you really must. You don't know how terribly annoyed Iam, and what risks I run in coming here. The house is full of company, and there is to be a dinner-party to-night. Mrs. Aylmer won't forgive mein a hurry. "

While Bertha was talking Florence remained quite silent. 

"We must find out the next train to town, " continued Bertha. 

"I am not going back until you do what I want, " said Florence. "I darenot. If you do not choose to have me at Aylmer's Court, I will stayhere; but you must do what I want. "

"What is that?"

"I want you to write an essay for me immediately. "

"Oh, my dear, what utter folly! Really, when I think of the way in whichI have helped you, and the splendid productions which are being palmedoff to the world as yours, you might treat me with a little moreconsideration. My head is addled with all I have to do, and now you comedown to ask me to write an essay. "

"Listen, Bertha, listen, " said poor Florence. She then told her story inas few words as possible. 

"I made such a fool of myself. I was very nearly betrayed, butfortunately Mr. Franks and Mr. Anderson took it as a practical joke. Ihave promised that they shall have an admirable essay by to-morrowevening. You must write it; you must let me have it to take back withme. "

"What is the subject?" said Bertha, who was now listening attentively. 

"The modern woman and her new crazes. You know you have all that sort ofthing at your finger-tips, " said Florence, glancing at her companion. 

"Oh, yes, I could write about the silly creatures if I had time; but howcan I find time to-day? It is not even a story. I have to think thewhole subject out and start my argument and--it cannot be done, Florence--that's all. "

"But it can, it must be done, " replied Florence. "Bertha, I amdesperate; all my future depends on this. I have gone wrong again, andyou are the cause, and now I will not lose all: I must at least have mylittle share of this world's goods as my recompense. Oh, I am amiserable girl! You are the evil genius of my life. "

"Don't talk such folly, " said Bertha; "do let me think. "

They were now both seated in the waiting-room, and Bertha covered herface for a moment with her hands. Florence looked round, she felt hemmedin, and now that she was face to face with Bertha she found that sheregarded her with loathing. 

Presently Bertha raised her head and glanced at her. 

"You must have it to-night?"

"Yes. "

"Well, the best thing I can possibly do is to go straight home. I willleave you here; you must on no account let anyone see you--that isall-important. I will try to get to the station this evening and let youhave it. I don't know that I can write anything worth reading in thetime. "

"But at least you will give style and epigram and pure English, " saidpoor Florence, who was sore after the bitter words with which her ownproduction had been received. 

"Yes, I shall at least write like a woman of education, " said Bertha. "Well, stay here now, and I will, by hook or by crook, come here in timefor you to take the last train to town. I suppose it would not do if Iposted it?"

"No, it would not; I dare not go back without it. You think I amaltogether in your power; but I am desperate, and if you do not let mehave that essay to-night I will come to the Court, whoever dines there, and see you. What does it matter to me? Aunt Susan cannot hate me morethan she does. "

"You shall have the essay, of course, " said Bertha, who turned pale whenFlorence uttered this threat. "She means it too, " thought Miss Keys, asshe drove rapidly home. "Oh, what shall I do? Such a world of things tobe done, and all those guests expected, and if the fruit or game doesnot arrive in time (and cook and I dare not now show the stores which wehave put away in hiding) what is to be done?"

Bertha entered the house and saw Mrs. Aylmer, who was in just as bad ahumour as Bertha had expected to find her in. Everything, she declared, was going wrong. She wished she had not asked those guests to dinner. Ifthere was no game nor proper fruit for dessert, she, Mrs. Aylmer, wouldbe disgraced for life. 

Bertha roused herself to be soothing and diplomatic. She brought all herfund of talent and ingenuity to the fore, and presently had arrangedthings so well that she was able to rush to her desk in Mrs. Aylmer'sboudoir and begin to write Florence's essay. 

Bertha was a quick writer and had a great deal of genius, as we know, but she was harassed and worried to-day, and for a time the paper whichshe had promised to give to Florence did not go smoothly. She was inreality much interested in the struggles of the woman who was at thattime called "modern. " She pitied her; she felt that she belonged to theclass. Had she time she would have written with much power, upholdingher, commending her, encouraging her to proceed, assuring her that thedifficulties which now surrounded her lot would disappear, and thatby-and-by those who watched her struggles would sympathise with her moreand more. But she had not time to do this. It was much easier to besarcastic, bitter, crushing. This was her real forte. She determined towrite quickly and in her bitterest vein. She was in her element. Thepaper she was writing would make the modern woman sit up and would makethe domestic woman rejoice. It was dead against æstheticism: against allreform with regard to women's education. It was cruel in its pretendedlack of knowledge of women's modern needs. 

Bertha felt that she hated her at that moment. She would give vent toher hatred. She would turn the disagreeable, pugnacious, upstart NewWoman into ridicule. 

If Bertha possessed one weapon which she used with greater power thananother it was that of sarcasm. She could be sarcastic to the point ofcruelty. Soon her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone: she was in herelement. She was writing quickly, for bare life, and she was writingwell. The paper would make the New Woman sit up, and would make the oldwoman rejoice. It would be read eagerly. It was not a kind paper. It wasthe sort of paper to do harm, not good; but its cleverness wasundoubted. She finished it just before the luncheon gong rang, and feltthat she had done admirable work. 

"After all, " she said to herself, "why should I work through the channelof that little imp, Florence Aylmer? Why should she have the fame andglory, and I stay here as a poor companion? Why should I not throw upthe thing and start myself as a writer and get praise and money and allthe good things which fame and success bring in their train? Why shouldI not do it?"

Bertha thought. She held the paper in her hand. It was but to betrayFlorence and go herself to the editor of the _Argonaut_ and explaineverything, and the deed was done. But no: she could not do it. She knewbetter--she was trying for a bigger prize. 

"Either I inherit Mrs. Aylmer's wealth or I marry Maurice Trevor andinherit it as his wife, " she thought. "I think I see my way. He isdepending on me in spite of himself. He will never marry Kitty Sharston. He neither wants her nor she him. He is to be my husband, or, if not, hegoes under completely and I secure Mrs. Aylmer's wealth. No amount ofwriting would give me what I shall get in that way. I can keep Florencequiet with this, and she is welcome, heartily welcome, to the cheapapplause. "

CHAPTER XXXII. 

TREVOR AND FLORENCE. 

It was Bertha's intention to go back to the railway station in thedogcart in order to secure the pheasants and fruit for the coming party;but just as she was preparing to jump on the cart Mrs. Aylmer herselfappeared. 

"My dear Bertha, " she said, "where are you going?"

Bertha explained. 

"That is quite unnecessary. You can send Thomas. I want you to come fora drive with me. I wish to see Mrs. Paton of Paton Manor. I have not yetreturned her call. There are also other calls which I want to make. Theyoung people are away enjoying themselves, and our elderly friends havegone shooting. You must come with me, as I cannot possibly go alone. "

As Mrs. Aylmer spoke the jingle of bells was heard, and Bertha, raisingher eyes, saw the pretty ponies which drew Mrs. Aylmer's own speciallittle carriage trotting down the avenue. Bertha had always to driveMrs. Aylmer in this little carriage, and, much as she as a rule enjoyeddoing so, it was by no means her wish to do so now. She looked at Mrs. Aylmer. 

"The cook really does want the things from town. "

"That does not matter, my dear. Thomas is driving the dogcart and cancall for the things. He had better go straight away at once. "

Mrs. Aylmer gave directions to the man, who whipped up the horse anddisappeared down the avenue. 

Bertha felt a momentary sense of despair; then her quick wit came to therescue. 

"I quite forgot to give Thomas a message, " she said; "he must have it. Excuse me one minute, Mrs. Aylmer. "

Before Mrs. Aylmer could prevent her she was running after the dogcartas fast as she could go. She shouted to Thomas, who drew up. 

"Yes, miss, " he said; "the mare is a bit fresh; what is it?"

"You must take this parcel; there is a young lady waiting for it at thestation: see that she gets it. Get one of the porters to put it into herhand. There is no message; just have the parcel delivered to her. "

"But what is the name of the young lady, miss?"

Bertha had not thought of that. She looked back again at the house. Mrs. Aylmer was getting impatient, and was waving her hand to her to comeback. 

"Her name is Miss Florence Aylmer; see that the parcel is put into herhands: there is no message. "

Thomas, not greatly caring whom the message was for, promised to see itsafely delivered, and the mare, not brooking any further delay, raceddown the avenue. 

"I do trust things will go right, " thought Bertha to herself; "it isextremely dangerous. Florence certainly was mad when she came to thispart of the country. "

There was no help for it, however. Bertha was learning once more thatthe way of the transgressors is hard. She had to stifle all herfeelings of anxiety, help Mrs. Aylmer into her pretty pony carriage, andtake the reins. 

Meanwhile Thomas and the spirited mare went as fast as possible to therailway station. The mare did not like the trains, which were coming andgoing at this moment in considerable numbers, Hamslade being a largejunction. She did not like to stand still with so many huge and terriblemonsters rushing by. Thomas did not dare to leave her, so he called to aporter who stood near. 

"I have come for some things from town; they must have arrived by thelast train. Are there any packages for Mrs. Aylmer of Aylmer's Court?"

"I'll go and see, " said the man. 

He presently returned with the pheasants and fruit, which had arrived indue course. Thomas saw them deposited in the dogcart, and was justturning the mare's head towards home when he suddenly remembered theparcel. He drew up the animal again almost on its haunches. It reared ina state of fright. What was to be done? The porter had alreadydisappeared into the station, and Thomas knew better than to return homewithout obeying Bertha's orders. Miss Keys was a power in theestablishment. She could dismiss or she could engage just as shepleased. Thomas would not oppose her for worlds. He looked around him, and just at that moment saw Maurice Trevor crossing a field in aleisurely fashion. Maurice drew up when he saw Thomas. 

"Hallo, " he said, "what are you doing here, Thomas?"

"I came for some parcels from town, sir. I wonder, sir, if you wouldeither hold the mare for a minute or do a commission for Miss Keys?"

"I will do the commission; what is it?"

"It is not much, sir; it is just to deliver this parcel to a young ladywho is waiting for it at the station. "

"A young lady who is waiting for it at the station?" said Trevor. 

"Yes, sir: Miss Florence Aylmer. There is no answer, sir. "

Trevor received the little brown-paper parcel, very neatly made up andaddressed to Miss Florence Aylmer, in unbounded astonishment. 

Thomas, relieved and feeling that his duty was well done, gave the mareher head and was soon out of sight. Trevor entered the station. He wentto the ladies' waiting-room, and there saw Florence Aylmer. She came tothe door the moment he appeared. 

"What are you doing here?" was his exclamation. 

"You may well wonder. But why are you here?"

"I came to give you this. " As she spoke he placed the little parcel inFlorence's hand. 

"Thank you, " she said. She had brought a small bag with her; she openedit and dropped the parcel into it. Her face looked worried; it hadturned red when she saw Trevor: it was now very white. 

He stood leaning up against the door of the waiting-room andcontemplated her in astonishment. 

"What have you been doing here all day?" he repeated. 

"That is my affair, " she answered. 

"Forgive me; I do not want to be unduly curious, but surely when youwere so near you might have come on to the Court. We should all havebeen glad to see you, and Mrs. Aylmer is your aunt. "

"You must please remember, Mr. Trevor, " said Florence, speaking in asstately a tone as she could assume, "that Mrs. Aylmer does not act as myaunt--she does not wish to have anything to do with me. "

"But you have been here for hours in this dingy waiting-room. "

"No; I took a walk when I thought no one was looking. "

"That means you do not wish it to be known that you are here?"

"I do not; and I earnestly beg of you not to mention it. Did Miss Keysreally give you the parcel to bring to me?"

"She really did nothing of the kind. She gave it to one of the grooms, who could not leave a spirited mare. He saw me and asked me to deliverit into your hands. "

"Thank you, " said Florence. She stood silent for a moment; then shelooked at the clock. 

"I must go, " she said; "there is a train back to town immediately, and Iwant to cross to the other platform. "

"I will see you into the train if you will allow me. "

Florence could not refuse; but she heartily wished Trevor anywhere elsein the world. 

"You will be sure not to mention that you saw me here, " she said. 

"I may speak of it, I suppose, to Miss Keys?"

"I wish you would not. "

"I won't promise, Miss Aylmer. I am very uncomfortable regarding theposition you are in. It is hateful to me to feel that you should comehere like a thief in the night, and stay for hours at the railwaystation. What mystery is there between you and Miss Keys?"

Florence was silent. 

"You admit that there is a mystery?"

"I admit that there is a secret between us, which I am not going to tellyou. "

He reddened slightly; then he looked at her. She was holding her headwell back; her figure was very upright; there was a proud indignationabout her. His heart ached as he watched her. 

"I think of you often, " he said; "your strange and inexplicable story isa great weight and trouble on my mind. "

"I wish you would not think of me: I wish you would forget me. "

Florence looked full at him; her angry dark eyes were full of misery. 

"Suppose that is impossible?" he said, dropping his voice, and there wassomething in his tone which made her heart give a sudden bound ofabsolute gladness. But what right had she to be glad? She hated herselffor the sensation. 

Trevor came closer to her side. 

"I have very nearly made up my mind, " he said; "when it is quite made upI shall come to see you in town. This is your train. " He opened the doorof a first-class carriage. 

"I am going third, " said Florence. 

Without comment he walked down a few steps of the platform with her. Anempty third-class carriage was found; she seated herself in it. 

"Good-bye, " he said. He took off his hat and watched the train out ofthe station; then he returned slowly--very slowly--to Aylmer's Court. Hecould not quite account for his own sensations. He had meant to go tomeet Kitty and her father, who were both going to walk back by theriver, but he did not care to see either of them just now. 

He was puzzled and very angry with Bertha Keys, more than angry withMrs. Aylmer, and he had a sore sense of unrest and misery with regard toFlorence. 

"What can she want with Miss Keys? What can be the secret between them?"he said to himself over and over again. He was far from suspecting thetruth. 

Bertha returned from her drive in apparently excellent spirits. Sheentered the hall, to find Trevor standing there alone. 

"Why are you back so early?" she said. 

He did not speak at all for a moment; then he came closer to her. Beforehe could utter a word she sprang to a centre table, and took up a copyof the _Argonaut_. 

"You are interested in Miss Aylmer. Have you read her story--the firststory she has ever published?" she asked. 

"No, " he replied; "is it there?"

"It is. The reviews are praising it. She will do very well as a writer. "

Kitty Sharston and her father appeared at that moment. 

"Look, Miss Sharston, " exclaimed Trevor; "you know Miss Aylmer. This isher story: have you read it?"

"I have not, " said Kitty; "how interesting! I did not know that thenumber of the _Argonaut_ had come. Florence told me she was writing init. " She took up the number and turned the pages. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed once or twice. 

Trevor stood near. 

Bertha went and warmed herself by the fire. 

"Oh!" said Kitty, "this is good. " Then she began to laugh. "Only I wishshe were not quite so bitter, " she exclaimed, a moment later. "It iswonderfully clever. Read it; do read it, Mr. Trevor. "

Trevor was all-impatient to do so. He took the magazine when Kittyhanded it to him, and began to read rapidly. Soon he was absorbed in thetale. As he proceeded with it an angry flush deepened on his cheeks. 

"What is the matter?" said Bertha, who, for reasons of her own, waswatching this little scene with interest. 

"I don't like the tone of this, " he said. "Of course it is clever. "

"It is very clever; and what does the tone matter?" said Bertha. "Youare one of those painfully priggish people, Mr. Trevor, who will neverget on in the world. Have you not yet discovered that being extra gooddoes not pay?"

"I am not extra good; but being good pays in the long run, " he answered. He darted an indignant glance at Bertha Keys and left the hall. Scarcelyknowing why he did so, he strode into Mrs. Aylmer's boudoir. Bertha'sdesk, covered with papers, attracted his attention. There was a booklying near which she was reading. He picked it up, and was just turningaway when a scrap of thin paper scribbled over in Bertha's well-knownhand arrested his eye. Before he meant to do so he found that he hadread a sentence on this paper. There was a sharpness and subtlety in thewording of the sentence which puzzled him for a moment, until he wassuddenly startled by the resemblance to the style of the story in the_Argonaut_ which he had just read. He scarcely connected the two yet, but his heart sank lower in his breast. He thought for a moment; then, opening his pocket-book, he placed the torn scrap of paper in it andwent away to his room. It was nearly time to dress for dinner. 

Mrs. Aylmer always expected her adopted son to help her to receive herguests, but Trevor made no attempt to get into his evening suit. Hisvalet knocked at the door, but he dismissed him. 

"I don't want your services to-night, Johnson, " said the young man. 

Johnson withdrew. 

"It is all horrible, " thought Trevor; "all this wealth and luxury for meand all the roughness for her, poor girl! But why should I think so muchabout her as I do? Why do I hate that story, clever as it is? The storyis not like her. It hurts me to think that she could have written it. Itis possible that I"--he started: his heart beat more quickly than wasits wont--"is it possible, " he repeated softly, under his breath, "thatI am beginning to like her too much? Surely not too much! Suppose thatis the way out of the difficulty?" He laughed aloud, and there wasrelief in the sound. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A TETE-A-TETE. 

Kitty Sharston, in the softest of white dresses, was playing Trevor'saccompaniments at the grand piano. He had a beautiful voice--a very richtenor. Kitty herself had a sweet and high soprano. The two now sangtogether. The music proceeded, broken now and then by snatches ofconversation. No one was specially listening to the young pair, althoughsome eyes were watching them. 

In a distant part of the room Sir John Wallis and Mrs. Aylmer werehaving a tête-à-tête. 

"I like him, " said Sir John. "You are lucky in having secured so worthyan heir for your property. "

"You don't like him better than I like your adopted child, MissSharston, " was Mrs. Aylmer's low answer. 

"Ay, she is a sweet girl--no one like her in the world, " said Sir John. "I almost grudge her to her father, much as I love him. We were comradeson the battle-field, you know. Perhaps he has told you that story. "

"I have heard it, but not from him, " said Mrs. Aylmer, with a smile. "Your friendship for each other is quite of the David and Jonathanorder. And so, my good friend"--she laid her white hand for an instanton Sir John's arm--"you are going to leave your property to yourfavourite Kitty?"

Sir John frowned; then he said shortly: "I see no reason for denying thefact. Kitty Sharston, when it pleases God to remove me, will inherit mywealth. "

"She is a sweet, very sweet girl, " replied Mrs. Aylmer. She glanced downthe room; there was significance in her eyes. 

Sir John followed her look. Kitty and Trevor had now stopped all music. Trevor was talking in a low tone to the girl; Kitty's head was slightlybent and she was pulling a white chrysanthemum to pieces. 

"I wonder what he is saying to her?" thought Mrs. Aylmer. Then all of asudden she made up her mind. "I should like it, " she said aloud; "Ishould like it much. "

Sir John started, and a slight accession of colour came into his ruddycheeks. 

"What do you mean?" he said. 

"Have you never thought of it? It is right for the young to marry. Thiswould be a match after my own heart. Would it please you?"

"It would, if it were God's will, " said Sir John emphatically. He lookedagain at the pair by the piano, and then across the long room to ColonelSharston. Colonel Sharston was absorbed in a game of chess with BerthaKeys. He was noticing nothing but the intricacies of the game. 

"All the same, " added Sir John, "her father and I are in no hurry to seeKitty settled in life. She is most precious to us both; we shouldscarcely know ourselves without her. "

"Oh, come now, I call that selfish, " said Mrs. Aylmer; "a pretty girlmust find her true mate, and there is nothing so happy as happy marriedlife. "

"Granted, granted, " said Sir John. 

"You and I, Sir John, are not so young as we used to be. It would benice for us to see those we love united: to feel that whatever stormslife may bring they will bear them together. But say nothing to ColonelSharston on the subject yet. I am glad to feel that when _my son_, as Ialways called Maurice, proposes for _your daughter_, as you doubtlessthink Kitty, there will be no objection on your part. "

"None whatever, except that I shall be sorry to lose her. I have a greatadmiration for Trevor; he is a man quite after my own heart. "

Soon afterwards Sir John Wallis moved away. 

Mrs. Aylmer, having sown the seed she desired to sow, was satisfied. From time to time the old man watched the pretty, bright-eyed girl. During the rest of the evening Trevor scarcely left her side; they hadmuch to talk over, much in common. Mrs. Aylmer was in the highestspirits. 

"This is exactly what I want, " she said to herself; "but I can see, forsome extraordinary reason, that notwithstanding his attentions, Mauricehas not fallen in love with that remarkably sweet girl. Whom has hegiven his heart to? If I thought for a single moment that Bertha wasplaying that game, I should dismiss her with a month's salary. But no:she would not dare. She is a clever woman and invaluable to me, andthere is no saying what clever women will not think of; but I do notbelieve even Bertha would go as far as that, and I warned her too. Forsome reason Maurice is not often with Bertha just now. Yes, I must bringthings to an issue. The Sharstons and Sir John leave on Monday. Mauricemust make up his mind to propose to Miss Sharston almost immediatelyafterwards. He can follow them to Southsea, where they have taken ahouse for the winter. "

Mrs. Aylmer was quite cheerful as she thought over this. 

"We will have a grand wedding in the spring, " she said to herself, "andKitty shall come and live with me. I need not keep Bertha Keys whenKitty is always in the house. Kitty would suit me much better. I seldomsaw a girl I liked more thoroughly. "

Meanwhile Kitty Sharston and her companion, little guessing the thoughtswhich were passing through the minds of their elders, were busilytalking over the one subject which now occupied all Trevor's thoughts. Like bees round a flower, these thoughts drew nearer and nearer everymoment to the subject of Florence Aylmer. Whenever Trevor was silent ordistrait Kitty would speak of Florence, and his attention was instantlyarrested. He began to talk in cheerful and animated tones. Incidents ofFlorence's life at school always made him laugh. He was glad to hear ofher small triumphs, which Kitty related to him with much _naïveté_. 

This evening, after a longer pause than usual, during which Kitty toreher chrysanthemum to pieces, and Mrs. Aylmer was quite certain thatMaurice was saying something very tender and suitable, Trevor broke thesilence by saying abruptly: "You have doubtless all sorts of prizes andcompetitions in your school life. Was Miss Aylmer ever remarkable forthe excellence of her essays and themes?"

"Ever remarkable for the excellence of her essays or themes?" saidKitty. 

Before she could reply, Bertha, whose game was over, and who had justgiven an emphatic checkmate to her enemy, strolled across the room. Shestood near the piano and could overhear the two; Kitty's eyes met hers, and Kitty's cheeks turned pale. 

"I don't think she was specially remarkable for the excellence of herwriting, " said Kitty then, in a low voice. 

"You surprise me. Such talent as she now possesses must have been moreor less inherent in her even as a child. "

"It does not always follow, " said Bertha, suddenly joining in theconversation. "I presume you are both talking of your favourite heroine, Florence Aylmer. But you remember an occasion, however, Miss Sharston, when Florence Aylmer _did_ receive much applause for a carefully-wordedessay. "

"I do, " said Kitty; "how dare you speak of it?" She rose to her feet inungovernable excitement, her eyes blazed, her cheeks were full ofcolour. 

Another instant and she might have blurted out all the truth, and ruinedBertha for ever, had not that young lady laid her hand on her arm. 

"Hush!" she whispered; "be careful what you say. Remember you injureher. Mr. Trevor, I think I see Mrs. Aylmer beckoning to you. "

Mrs. Aylmer was doing nothing of the kind; but Trevor was obliged to goto her. Kitty soon subsided on her seat. 

"Why did you say that?" she said. 

"Can you not guess? I wanted to save the situation. Why should poorFlorence be suspected of having written badly when she was young? It ismuch more natural for you, who are her true friend, to uphold her and toallow people to think that the great talent which she now possesses wasalways in evidence. I spoke no less than the truth. That essay of herswas much commented on and loudly applauded. "

"Oh, you know you have told a lie--the worst sort of lie, " said Kitty. "Oh, what am I to say? Sometimes I hate you. "

"I know you hate me, but you have no cause to. I am quite on your side. "

"I don't understand you; but I will not talk to you any further. "

Kitty rose, crossed the room, and sat down by her father. 

"She is a very nice girl; far too good to be thrown away on him, "thought Bertha to herself. "I admire her as I admire few people. She wasalways steadfast of purpose and pure of soul, and will be a charmingwife for a man who loves her, some day; but she is not for MauriceTrevor. He does not care _that_ for her! Yes, I know the old folks areplotting and planning; but all their plots and plans will come tonothing. There will be a fine _fracas_ soon, and I must see, whateverhappens, that _my_ bread is well buttered. "

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MAURICE REBELS. 

On the morning of the day when the guests were to depart Mrs. Aylmer, having spent a long and almost restless night, sent for Trevor to herroom. He entered unwillingly. He had begun to dislike his tête-à-têtewith Mrs. Aylmer very much. 

"Now, my dear boy, just sit down and let us have a cosy chat, " said theold lady. 

Trevor stood near the open window. 

"The day is so mild, " he said, "that it is almost summer. Who wouldsuppose that we were close to December?"

"I have not sent for you, Maurice, to talk of the weather. I havesomething much more important to say. "

"And what is that?" he asked. 

"You remember our last conversation in this room?"

He knitted his brows. 

"I remember it, " he answered. 

"I want to carry it on now; we have come to the second chapter. "

"What do you mean by that?"

"Our last conversation was introductory. Now the story opens. You havebehaved very well, quite as well as I could have expected, during thetime that Sharstons and Sir John Wallis have stayed here. "

"I am glad you are pleased with my behaviour; but in reality I did notbehave well: I mean according to your lights. I am just as much a rebelas ever. "

"Maurice, my dear boy, try not to talk nonsense; try to look a littleahead. How old are you?"

"I shall be six-and-twenty early in the year. "

"Quite a boy, " said Mrs. Aylmer, in a slightly contemptuous voice. "Inten years you will be six-and-thirty, in twenty six-and-forty. In twentyyears from now you will much rejoice over what--what may not be quite toyour taste at the present moment, though why it should not be--Maurice, it is impossible, absolutely impossible, that you should not love thatsweet and beautiful girl. "

"Which girl do you mean?" said Trevor. 

"Don't prevaricate; you know perfectly well to whom I allude. "

"Miss Sharston? She is far too good, far too sweet to have her namebandied between us. I decline to discuss her. "

"You must discuss her. You can do so with all possible respect. KittySharston is to be your wife, Maurice. "

"She will never be my wife, " he replied. His tone was so firm, he stoodso upright as he spoke, his eyes were fixed so sternly, that just for amoment Mrs. Aylmer recognised that she had met her match. 

"You refuse to do what I wish?" she said then slowly, "I who have doneall for you?"

"I refuse to do this. This is the final straw of all. No wealth is worthhaving at the price you offer. I will only marry the woman I love. Irespect, I admire, I reverence Miss Sharston; but I do not love her, nordoes she love me. It is sacrilege to talk of a marriage between us. If Ioffered she would refuse; it is not to be thought of; besides--"

"Why do you stop? Go on. It is just like your gratitude. How true arethe poet's words: 'Sharper than serpent's tooth!' But what is yourintention in the future?"

"Justice, " he replied. "I cannot bear this. It troubles me more than Ican say. If you will not reinstate the girl who ought to be your heiressin her right position, I at least will do what I can for her. I willoffer her all I have. "

"You! you!" Mrs. Aylmer now indeed turned pale. She rose from her seatand came a step nearer the young man. 

"You are mad; you must be mad, " she said. "What does this mean?"

"It means that I intend to propose for Florence Aylmer. Whether she willaccept me or not God only knows, but I love her. "

"You told me a short time ago that you were not her lover. "

"I had not then looked into my own heart. Now I find that I care for noone else. Her image fills my mind day and night; I am unhappy abouther--too unhappy to endure this state of things any longer. "

"Do you think she will take you, a penniless man? Do you think you area good match for her or for any girl?"

"That has nothing to do with it. If she loves me she will accept allthat I can give her, and I can work for my living. "

"I will not listen to another word of this. You have pained meinexpressibly. "

"You gave me time to decide, and I have decided. If you will forgiveMiss Aylmer whatever she happened to do to displease you, if you willmake her joint heiress with me in your estates, then we will both serveyou and love you most faithfully and most truly; but if you will notgive her back her true position I at least will offer her all that a mancan offer--his heart, his worship, and all the talent he possesses. Ican work for my wife, and before God I shall be fifty times happier thanin my present position. "

Mrs. Aylmer pointed to the door. 

"I will not speak to you any more, " she said. "This is disastrous, disgraceful! Go! Leave my presence!"

CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE ESSAY AROUSES CRITICISM. 

Thomas Franks was much relieved when, on the morning after her return totown, Florence sent him the paper which Bertha had written. Florenceherself took the precaution to carefully copy it out. As she did so, shecould scarcely read the words; there were burning spots on her cheeks, and her head ached terribly. 

Having completed her task, she sent it off by post, and Tom Franks, ingood time, received Bertha's work. He read it over at first with someslight trepidation, then with smiling eyes and a heart beating high withsatisfaction. He took it immediately to his chief. 

"Ah! this is all right, " he said; "read it: you will be pleased. Itquite fulfills the early promise. "

Mr. Anderson did glance rapidly over Bertha's paper. 

"Miss Florence Aylmer has done good work, " he said, when he had finishedreading her pungent and caustic words; "and yet--" A thoughtfulexpression crossed his face, he was silent for a moment, then he lookedup at the young man, who was standing near. 

"I doubt if in any way such a paper will help our new production, " hesaid. "It is difficult for me to believe that any girl could write inwhat I will call so agnostic a spirit. There is a bitterness, a want ofbelief, an absence of all feeling in this production. I admit itscleverness; but I should be sorry to know much of the woman who haswritten it. "

"I admire talent in any form, " said Tom Franks; "it will be inserted, ofcourse. People who want smart things will like it, I am sure. Believeme, you are mistaken; it will do good, not harm. "

"It may do good from a financial point of view: doubtless it will, " saidMr. Anderson; "but I wish the girl who has those great abilities wouldturn them to a higher form of expression. She might do great thingsthen, and move the world in a right way. "

"I grant you that the whole thing is pessimistic, " said Franks; "but itscleverness redeems it. It will call attention, and the next story byMiss Aylmer which appears in the _Argonaut_ will be more appreciatedthan her last. "

"See that that story appears in the next number, " said his chief toFranks, and the young man left the room. 

Florence received in due time a proof of her paper for correction. Therewas little alteration, however, needed in Bertha's masterly essay; butFlorence was now obliged to read it carefully, and her heart stood stillonce or twice as she read the expressions which she herself was supposedto have given birth to. She had just finished correcting the proofs whenEdith Franks came into the room. 

"I have just seen Tom, " she said; "he is delighted with your essay. Isthat it? Have you corrected it? May I look through it?"

"I would much rather you did not read it, Edith. "

"What nonsense! It is to be published, and I shall see it then. "

"Well, read it, if you must, when it is in the paper; only I wouldrather you didn't read it at all. "

"What do you mean?"

"I don't like it. "

"Why do you write what you don't like?" said Edith, fixing her sharpeyes on her new friend's face. 

"One does all sorts of things perhaps without reason; one writes as oneis impelled, " said Florence. 

Edith went up to her, and after a brief argument possessed herself ofthe long slip of proof she was holding in her hand. 

"I am going to read it now, " she said; "I always said you were neurotic:even your talents tend in that direction. Oh, good gracious! what anextraordinary opening sentence! You are a queer girl!"

Edith read on to the end. She then handed the paper back to Florence. 

"What do you think of it?" said Florence, noticing that she was silent. 

"I hate it. "

"I thought you would. Oh. Edith, I am glad!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Because I so cordially hate it too. "

"I would not publish it if I were in your place, " said Edith; "it may doharm. It is against the woman who is struggling so bravely. It turns hernoblest feelings into ridicule. Why do you write such things, Florence?"

"One cannot help one's self; you know that, " replied Florence. 

"Rubbish! One can always help doing wrong. You have been queer allthrough. I cannot pretend to understand you. But there, as Tom admiresit so much, I suppose it must go into the paper. Will you put it into anenvelope, and I will post it?"

Florence did so. She directed the envelope to the editor, and Edith tookit out with her. 

As she was leaving the room, she turned to Florence and said: "Try andmake your next thing more healthy. I hope to goodness very few peoplewill read this; it is bad from first to last. "

She ran downstairs. Just as she was about to drop the little packet intothe pillar-box, she glanced at her watch. 

"I shall have time to go and see Tom. I don't like this thing, " she saidto herself. "Miss Aylmer ought not to write what will do direct harm. The person who has written this paper might well not believe in any God. I don't like it. It ought not to be published. I will speak to Tom aboutit. Some of the worst passages might at least be altered or expunged. "

Edith hailed a hansom, was taken Citywards, and found herself in herbrother's own private room shortly before he was finishing for the day. 

"Here is the work of your precious protégée, " she said, flinging themanuscript on Tom's desk. He took it up. 

"Has she corrected it? That's right; I want to send it to the printer. By the way, Edith, have you read it?"

"I grieve to say I have. "

Tom Franks looked at her in a puzzled way. 

"Why do you speak in that tone?"

"Because it is so horrible and so false, Tom. Why do you publish it?"

"You agree with Mr. Anderson; he doesn't like it either. "

"Don't send it to the printers like that. Poor Florence must be a littlemad. Cut out some of the passages. Give it to me, and I'll show you. This one, for instance, and this. "

Tom Franks took the paper from her. 

"It goes in entire, or it does not go in at all, " he said; "itscleverness will carry the day. I must speak to Miss Aylmer. She must notgive vent to her true feelings; in future, she must put a check onthem. "

"She must have a terrible mind, " said Edith. "If I had known it, I don'tthink I could have made her my friend. "

"Oh, don't give her up now, " said Tom; "poor girl, she is to be pitied. "

"Of course she is; great talent like hers often means a tendency toinsanity. I must watch her; she is a curious and interesting study. "

"She is monstrously clever, " said Tom Franks; "I admire her very much. "

Edith, feeling that she had done no good, left the office. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

A LETTER FROM HOME. 

In due time the first number of the new weekly paper appeared, andFlorence's article was on the leading page. It created, as Tom Franksknew it would, a good deal of criticism. It met with a shower of abusefrom one party, and warm notices, full of congratulation, from another. It certainly increased the sale of the paper and made people lookeagerly forward to the next work of the rising star. 

Florence, who would not glance at the paper once it had appeared, andwho did her utmost to forget Bertha's work, tried to believe that shewas happy. She had now really as much money as she needed to spend, andwas able to send her mother cheques. 

Mrs. Aylmer was in the seventh heaven of bliss. As to Sukey, she wasperfectly sick of hearing of Miss Florence's talents and Miss Florence'ssuccess. Mrs. Aylmer the less thought it high time to write acongratulatory letter to her daughter. 

 "My dear Flo, " she wrote, "you are the talk of the place. I never knew anything like it. I am invaded by visitors. I am leading quite a picnic life, hardly ever having a meal at home, and with your cheques I am able to dress myself properly. Sukey also enjoys the change. But why, my dear love, don't you send copies of that wonderful magazine, and that extraordinary review, to your loving mother? I have just suggested to a whole number of your admirers to meet me at this house on Wednesday next, when I propose to read aloud to them either your article in the _General Review_ or one of your stories in the _Argonaut_. Do send me the copies, dear; I have failed hitherto to get them. "

At this point in her letter Mrs. Aylmer broke off abruptly. There hadcome a great blot of ink on the paper, as if her pen had suddenly fallenfrom her hand. Later on the letter was continued, but in a differenttone. 

 "Our clergyman, Mr. Walker, has just been to see me. What do you think he has come about? He brought your paper with him and read passages of it aloud. He said that it was my duty immediately to see you, and to do my utmost to get you into a better frame of mind. 

 "He says your style--I am quoting his exact words--and your sentiments are bitterly wrong, and will do a lot of mischief. My dear girl, what does this mean? Just when your poor, doting old mother was so full of bliss and so proud of you, to give her a knock-down blow of this sort! I must request you, my precious child, the next time you write for the _General Review_, to do a paper which will not cause such remarks as I have just listened to from the lips of our good clergyman. You might write, Florence, a nice little essay on the sins of ambition, or something of that sort--or what do you say to a paper on flowers, spring flowers?--I think that would be so sweet and poetic--or the sad sea waves? I really did not know that I had such a clever brain myself. You must have inherited your talent from me, darling. Now, do write a paper on the sad sea waves. I know I shall cry over it. I feel it beforehand. Don't forget, my love, the lessons your poor mother has tried to teach you. Mr. Walker spoke so severely that I almost thought I ought to return your nice cheque for five pounds; but on reflection, it seemed to me that that would do no good, and that I at least knew how to spend the money well. I told him I would give him ten shillings out of it for the missionary society. He seemed quite shocked. How narrow-minded some clergymen are! But there, Flo, don't forget that the next paper is to be on spring flowers or the sad sea waves. It will take like wildfire. 

 "Your Affectionate Mother. "

This letter was received by Florence on the following morning. She wasseated at her desk, carefully copying the last production sent to her byBertha Keys. It was not an essay this time, but a story, and was couchedin rather milder terms than her two previous stories. Florence thrust itinto a drawer, read her mother's letter from end to end, and then, covering her face with her hands, sat for a long time motionless. 

"I am successful; but it seems to me I am casting away my own soul, " shesaid to herself. "I am not happy. I never thought, when I could supplymother with as much money as she needed, when my own affairs were goingon so nicely, when my independence was so far secured, and when I was ona certain pinnacle of success, that I could feel as I do. But nothinggives me pleasure. Even last night, at that party which the Franks tookme to, when people came up and congratulated me, I felt stupid andheavy. I could not answer when I was spoken to, nor carry on arguments. I felt like a fool, and I know I acted as one; and if Mr. Franks had notbeen so kind, I doubt not I should have openly disgraced myself. Oh, dear! the way of transgressors is _very_ hard, and I hate Bertha morethan words can say. "

Florence was interrupted at this pause in her meditations by a tap ather door. She was now able to have two rooms at her command in Prince'sMansions, and Franks, who had come to see her, was ushered into aneatly-furnished but simple-looking sitting-room. 

Florence rose to meet him. 

"Are you well?" he said, staring at her. 

"Why do you ask? I am perfectly well, " she replied, in a tone of someannoyance. 

"I beg your pardon; you look so black under the eyes. Do you work toohard at night?"

"I never work too hard, Mr. Franks; you are absolutely mistaken in me. "

"I am glad to hear it. Is your next story ready?"

"I am finishing it. "

"May I see it?"

"No, I cannot show it to you. You shall have it by to-morrow or next dayat latest. "

"Do you feel inclined to do some more essays for our paper?"

"I would rather not, " said Florence. 

"But why so?"

"You didn't like my last paper, you know. "

"Oh, I admired it for its cleverness. I didn't care for the tone. It isunnecessary to give way to all one's feelings. When you have writtenmore and oftener, you will have learned the art of suppression. "

"I have just had a letter from mother, " said Florence; "I will show youher postscript. You will see that, although she was proud of me, it wasthe pride of ignorance. This is what our clergyman, Mr. Walker, says, and he is right. "

Franks read the few words of the postscript. 

"I suppose he is right, " he answered. He looked full at the girl andhalf-smiled. 

"It would be extremely successful if you would do a paper in a _totally_different tone, " he said; "could you not try?"

"I cannot give what is not in me. "

"Well, have a good try. Choose your own subject. Let me have the verybest you can. I must not stay any longer now. The story at least willreach me in good time?"

"Yes, and I think you will like it rather better than the last. Good-bye, " said Florence. 

He held her hand lingeringly for a moment, and looked into her face. Ashe went downstairs he thought a good deal about her. She interested him. If he married, he would as soon have clever and original Florence Aylmerfor his wife as any other woman he had ever met. 

He was just leaving the house when he came face to face with Trevor. Maurice was hurrying into the house as Franks was going out. Thesub-editor of the _Argonaut_ started when he saw Trevor. 

"Hallo, " he said, "who would have thought to see you here? How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you. "

"I imagined you to be in the country safe with that kind old lady who isfeathering your nest. "

"I don't think that will come off, Franks; but I do not feel inclined todiscuss it. I have come up to town to see Miss Aylmer. How is she?"

"Quite well, or, rather, no: I don't think she is very well. I have justseen her. What a wonderfully clever girl she is!"

"So it seems, " said Trevor, in a somewhat impatient tone. "Is she in?"

"Yes; I have just come from her. "

"Then I won't detain you now. " Trevor ran upstairs, and Franks wentquickly back to his office. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

TREVOR PROPOSES TO FLORENCE. 

Trevor's vigorous knock came upon Florence's door. She did not know whyher heart leapt, nor why the colour came into her cheeks. She had beenfeeling indifferent to all the world a moment before. Now she wassuddenly eager and full of interest. 

She crossed the room and opened the door wide. When she saw Trevor sheuttered an exclamation and her eyes shone. 

"Is it possible that you have come?" she said. "How are you? Won't youcome in?"

He took her hand. 

"Yes, I have come, " he answered. "Can you give me a little time, or areyou too busy?"

"I am never busy, " said Florence. 

He looked at her in some surprise when she said that, but resolved totake no notice. He had quick eyes and a keen intuition, and he saw at aglance that Florence was uneasy and suffering, also that she was more orless indifferent to the life on which she had entered, which ought tohave been so full of the keenest interest. She asked him to seat himselfand took a chair near. 

"How are they all at Aylmer's Court?" she asked. 

"When I left yesterday morning they were well, " he replied. "Did youknow that your friend Miss Sharston was on a visit there?"

"Yes, I heard of it; Kitty wrote to me. Do you like Kitty, Mr. Trevor?"

"Of course I like her, " he replied, and, remembering what was expectedof him by Mrs. Aylmer with regard to Kitty, the bronze on his cheeksdeepened. 

Florence noticed the increase of colour, and her heart beat. 

"I wonder if he does like her and if she likes him. I should not besurprised; I ought to be glad, " she thought. But she knew very well thatshe was not glad, and she vaguely wondered why. 

"I have come with a message from my mother, " said Trevor, who waswatching her while her eyes were travelling towards the fire. He wasthinking how ill and worn she looked, and his heart was full of pity aswell as love, but he would not speak yet. He must wait; he must be sureof her feelings before he committed himself. 

"I have come with a message from my mother, " he repeated. "I want you tocome back with me now. You enjoyed your last day at the cottage: it wassummer then. It is early winter now, but the heath is still beautiful. Shall we go together, and after lunch have a walk on the heath?"

"I am very sorry, but I cannot go, " replied Florence. She lookedlongingly out of the window as she spoke. "No, " she repeated; "Icannot. "

"But why not? You say you are not busy. "

"In one sense I am not busy; but I have some work to do. "

"Some of your literary work?"

Florence nodded, but did not speak. 

"I have to copy something, " she said, after a pause; "I have to send itto the editor of the _Argonaut_; he is waiting. "

"Do you know, I have only read one of your stories, the first whichappeared in the _Argonaut_? It was clever. "

"I wish it had been idiotic, " replied Florence. "Everyone says to me:'Your story is clever. ' I hate that story. "

"I am delighted to hear you say so. I did not admire it myself. Ofcourse I saw that it was--"

"Don't say again that it was clever. I don't wish to hear anything aboutit. I cannot come with you to-day. I have to do some copying. "

"Why do you say copying?"

"Because I always copy the manuscripts faithfully before Mr. Franks hasthem for the _Argonaut_. He is waiting, and I am a slow writer. "

"Shall I copy the story for you?"

"Not for all the world, " replied Florence, startled at her ownvehemence. 

Trevor rose, a look of annoyance on his face. 

"I am sorry you should think of my offer of help in that spirit, " hesaid; "you don't quite understand: perhaps some day I may be able tomake things plain to you. I take a great, a very great interest in you. You have brought--"

"What?" said Florence. 

"You have brought a great anxiety and trouble into my life, as well asa very great absorbing interest; but I can say no more now. "

"If you will go away, " said Florence, "I will begin to work. I have aheadache, and am confused. Go away and come again, if you like. I shallbe better the next time you come. "

"Why won't you tell me what is troubling you?"

"How do you know anything troubles me?"

"How do I know?" said Trevor. "I have eyes--that is all: eyes and acertain amount of intuition, " he added. 

"I cannot go to-day, " said Florence, who took no notice of his words, "but perhaps on Sunday I may go to see your mother. Will you be therethen?"

"Yes: did you not hear? I have broken with Mrs. Aylmer. "

"What?" said Florence. She forgot herself in her excitement. She cametwo or three steps forward; her hands were clasped tightly together. 

"Yes; I cannot stand the life. Mrs. Aylmer is very kind to me, and meanswell; but so long as she is so cruel to you I cannot endure it. I havetold her so, and I am going to earn my own living in the future. I am nolonger a rich man--indeed, I am a very poor one; but I have brains and Ithink I have pluck, and some day I am certain I shall succeed. "

Trevor held himself erect, and his eyes, full of suppressed fire, werefixed on Florence's face. He wanted her to say she was glad; he wantedto get a word of sympathy from her. On the contrary, she turned verywhite, and said, in a low, almost broken voice: "Oh, I am terriblysorry! Why have you done this?"

"You are _sorry_?"

"Yes, I am. "

"I have done it for you. I cannot stand injustice. "

"I could never under any circumstances accept Mrs. Aylmer's money, " saidFlorence. "You do me no good, and yourself harm; and then your mother:she was so happy about you. Oh, do go back to Mrs. Aylmer; do tell heryou didn't mean it. I know she must be very fond of you. It makes me sowretched, so overpoweringly wretched, to think you should have done thisfor me. Oh, do go back! She will be so glad to receive you. I know alittle about her: I know she will receive you with rejoicing. "

"Do you know what she wants me to do?" he said. He was very white now. He had thrown prudence to the winds. 

"What?"

"You will not like it when I tell you; but you must at least exonerateme: I am obliged to be frank. "

"Say what you please; I am willing to listen. "

Trevor dropped once more into a chair. 

"When I last saw her she made a proposal to me. It was not the firsttime; it was the second. She wanted me to marry--"

"I know, " said Florence; "she wants you to marry Kitty. But why not? Sheis so sweet; she is the dearest girl in all the world. "

"Hush!" said Trevor. "I do not love her, nor does she love me. I canscarcely bear to tell you all this. It is sacrilegious to think ofmarriage under such circumstances, and above all things to mention it inconnection with a girl like Miss Sharston. "

Florence found tears springing to her eyes. 

"You are very good, " she said, "too good, to sit here and talk to me. Ofcourse, if you don't love Kitty, there is an end of it. Are you quitesure?"

"Positive. I know my own heart too well. I love another. "

"Another?"

Florence had a wild fear for a moment that he was alluding to BerthaKeys. A desperate thought came into her brain. 

"At any cost, I will open his eyes: I will tell him the truth, " shethought. 

Trevor had come nearer, and was bending forward and trying to take herhand. 

"You are the one I love, " he said. "How can I, who love you with all myheart and soul and strength, who would give my life for you, how can Ithink of anyone else? It does not matter whether you are the mostamiable or the most unamiable woman in the world, Florence: you are theone woman on God's earth for me. Do you hear me, Florence; do you hearme? I love you; I have come to-day to tell you that I give my life toyou. I put it into your hands. I didn't mean to speak, but the truth hasbeen wrung from me. Do you hear me, Florence?"

Florence certainly did hear, but she did not speak. Trevor had taken herhand, and she did not withdraw it. She was stunned for a moment. Thenext instant there came over her, sweeping round her, entering herheart, filling her whole being, a delicious and marvellous ecstasy. Thepain and the trouble vanished. The treachery, the deceit, and the fallshe had undergone were forgotten. She only knew that, if Trevor lovedher, she loved him. She was about to speak when her eyes fell for amoment on a page of the manuscript she had just written. Like a flash, memory came back. 

It stung her cruelly as a serpent might sting. She sprang to her feet;she flung down his hand. 

"You don't know whom you are talking to. If you knew me just as I am, you would unsay all those words; and, Mr. Trevor, you can never know meas I am, never, and I can never marry you. "

"But do you love me? That is the point, " said Trevor. 

"I--do not ask me. No--if you must know. How can I love anybody? I amincapable of love. Oh, go, go! do go! I don't love you: of course Idon't. Don't think of me again. I am not for you. Try and love Kitty, and make Mrs. Aylmer happy. Go; do leave me! I am unworthy of you, absolutely, utterly. "

"But if I think differently?" said Trevor. He was very much troubled byher words; she spoke with such vehemence, and alluded to suchextraordinary and to him impossible things, that he failed to understandher; then he said slowly: "You are stunned and surprised, but, darling, I am willing to wait, and my heart is yours. A man cannot take back hisheart after he has given it, even though a woman does scorn it. But youwon't be cruel to me; I cannot believe it, Florence. I will come againto-morrow and see you. "

He turned without speaking to her again and left the room. 

Florence never knew how she spent the rest of that day; but she had adim memory afterwards that she worked harder during the succeeding hoursthan she had ever worked in her life before. Her brain was absolutelystimulated by what she had gone through, and she felt almost inclined toventure to write that Sunday-school paper which Tom Franks had so muchdesired. 

She was to go out that evening with the Franks. She was now, althoughthe London season had by no means begun, a little bit in request incertain literary circles; and Tom Franks, who had taken her in tow, wasanxious to bring her as much forward as possible. 

Edith and Tom were going to drive to a certain house in the suburbswhere a literary lady, a Mrs. Simpson, a very fashionable woman, lived. Florence was to be the lioness of the evening, and Edith came in earlyfrom her medical work to apprise her of the fact. 

"You had better wear that pretty black lace dress, and here are somecrimson roses for you, " she said. "I bought them at the florist's roundthe corner; they will suit you very well. But I wish you would not loseall your colour. You certainly look quite fagged out. "

"On the contrary, I am not the least bit tired, " said Florence. "I amglad I am going. I have finished the story for your brother and can postit first. I have had a hard day's work, Edith, and deserve a little bitof fun to-night. "

"Now that I look at you, you don't seem as tired as usual, " said Edith;"that is right. Tom was vexed last night. He says you work so hard thatyou are quite stupid in society. Try and allow people to draw you out. If you make even one or two of those pretty little epigrammatic speecheswith which your writing is full, you will get yourself talked of morethan ever. I presume, writing the sort of things you do, that you aregoing in for fame, and fame alone. Well, my dear, at least so live thatyou may obtain that for which you are selling yourself. "

"I am not selling myself. How dare you?" said Florence. Her whole mannerwas new; she had ceased to depreciate herself. 

Edith left her, and Florence went into her bed-room and carefully madeher toilet. Her eyes were soft as well as bright. The dress she woresuited her well; there was a flush of becoming colour in her cheeks. Shejoined Edith just as Franks drove up in his brougham. He ran upstairs, and was pleased to see that the two girls were ready. 

"Come, that is nice, " he said, gazing at Florence with an increasedbeating of his heart. He said to himself: "She is absolutely handsome. She would suit me admirably as a wife. I may propose to her to-night ifI have the chance. "

He gave his arm to Florence with a certain chivalry which was by nomeans habitual to him, and the two girls and Franks went downstairs. 

"There is to be a bit of a crush, " he said, looking at Florence; "and, by the way, did I tell you who was to be present? You saw him to-day:Maurice Trevor. He is a great friend of Mrs. Simpson's, and he and hismother have been invited. "

Florence's hand was still on Franks's arm when he spoke, and as heuttered the words "Maurice Trevor" she gave that arm an involuntarygrip. He felt the grip, and a queer sensation went through him. He couldnot look into her face, but his suspicions were aroused. Why had shebeen so startled when Trevor's name was mentioned? He would watch thepair to-night. Trevor was not going to take Florence from him if he, Franks, wished for her: of that he was resolved. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

AT THE RECEPTION. 

The guests were all interesting, and the room sufficiently large not tobe overcrowded. Franks seemed to watch Florence, guarding her againsttoo much intrusion, but at the same time he himself kept her amused. Hetold her who the people were. As he did so, he watched her face. Shestill wore that becoming colour, and her eyes were still bright. She hadlost that heavy apathetic air which had angered Franks more than once. He noticed, however, that she watched the door, and as fresh arrivalswere announced her eyes brightened for an instant, and then grewperceptibly dull. He knew she was watching for Trevor, and he cursedTrevor in his heart. 

"She is in love with him. What fools women are!" muttered Franks tohimself. "If she married a man like that--a rich man with all that moneycould give--her literary career would be ended. I have had the pleasureof introducing her to the public; she is my treasure-trove, my onebright particular star. She shall not shine for anyone else. That greatgift of hers shall be improved, shall be strengthened, shall bemultiplied ten-thousandfold. I will not give her up. I love her justbecause she is clever: because she is a genius. If she had not thatdivine fire, she would be as nothing and worse than nothing to me. Asit is, the world shall talk of her yet. "

Presently Trevor and his mother arrived, and it seemed to Florence thatsome kind of wave of sympathy immediately caused his eyes to light uponher in her distant corner. He said a few words to his hostess, watchedhis mother as she greeted a chance acquaintance, and elbowed his way toher side. 

"This is good luck, " he said; "I did not expect to see you hereto-night. " He sat down by her, and Franks was forced to seekentertainment elsewhere. 

Florence expected that after the way she had treated Trevor early thatday he would be cold and distant; but this was not the case. He seemedto have read her agitation for what it was worth. Something in her eyesmust have given him a hint of the truth. He certainly was not angry now. He was sympathetic, and the girl thought, with a great wave of comfort:"He does not like me because I am supposed to be clever. He likes me forquite another reason: just for myself. But why did not he tell me sobefore--before I fell a second time? It is all hopeless now, of course;and yet is it hopeless? Perhaps Maurice Trevor is the kind of man whowould forgive. I wonder!"

She looked up at him as the thought came to her, and his eyes met hers. 

"What are you thinking about?" he said. They had been talking a lot ofcommonplaces; now his voice dropped; if he could, he would have takenher hand. They were as much alone in that crowd as though they had beenthe only people in the room. 

"What are you thinking of?" he repeated. 

"Of you, " said Florence. 

"Perhaps you are sorry for some of the things you said this morning?"

"I am sorry, " she answered gravely, "that I was obliged to say them. "

"But why were you obliged?"

"I have a secret; it was because of that secret I was obliged. "

"You will tell it to me, won't you?"

"I cannot. "

Trevor turned aside. He did not speak at all for a moment. 

"I must understand you somehow, " he said then; "you are surrounded bymystery, you puzzle me, you pique my curiosity. I am not curious aboutsmall things as a rule, but this is not a small thing, and I have agreat curiosity as to the state of your heart, as to the state ofyour--"

"My morals, " said Florence slowly; "of my moral nature--you are not sureof me, are you?"

"I am sure that, bad or good--and I know you are not bad--you are theonly woman that I care for. May I come and see you to-morrow?"

"Don't talk any more now; you upset me, " said Florence. 

"May I come and see you to-morrow?"

"Yes. "

"Remember, if I come, I shall expect you to tell me everything?"

"Yes. "

"You will?"

"I am not certain; I can let you know when you do come. "

"Thank you; you have lifted a great weight from my heart. "

A moment later Franks appeared with a very learned lady, a MissMelchister, who asked to be introduced to Florence. 

"I have a crow to pluck with you, Miss Aylmer, " she said. 

"What is that?" asked Florence. 

"How dare you give yourself and your sisters away? Do you know that youwere very cruel when you wrote that extremely clever paper in the_General Review_?"

"I don't see it, " replied Florence. Her answers were lame. MissMelchister prepared herself for the fray. 

"We will discuss the point, " she said. "Now, why did you say--"

Trevor lingered near for a minute. He observed that Florence's cheekshad turned pale, and he thought that for such a clever girl she spoke ina rather ignorant way. 

"How queer she is!" he said to himself; "but never mind, she will tellme all to-morrow. I shall win her; it will be my delight to guard her, to help her, and if necessary to save her. She is under someone's thumb;but I will find out whose. "

His thoughts travelled to Bertha Keys. He remembered that strange timewhen he met Florence at the railway station at Hamslade. Why had shespent the day there? Why had Bertha sent her a parcel? He feltdisturbed, and he wandered into another room. This was the library ofthe house. Some papers were lying about. Amongst others was the firstnumber of the _General Review_. With a start Trevor took it up. He wouldlook through Florence's article. That clever paper had been largelycriticised already; but, strange to say, he had not read it. He sankinto a chair and read it slowly over. As he did so, his heart beat atfirst loud, then with heavy throbs. A look of pain, perplexity, andweariness came into his eyes. One sentence in particular he read notonly once, but twice, three times. It was a strange sentence; itcontained in it the germ of a very poisonous thought. In these few wordswas the possibility of a faith being undermined, and a hope beingdestroyed. It puzzled him. He had the queer feeling that he had read itbefore. He repeated it to himself until he knew it by heart. Then he putthe paper down, and soon afterwards he went to his mother, and told herhe was going home. 

"I will send a brougham for you; I am not very well, " he said. 

She looked into his face, and was distressed at the expression she sawin his eyes. 

"All right, Maurice dear; I shall be ready in an hour. I just want tomeet a certain old friend, and to talk to that pretty girl Miss Aylmer. I will find out why she does not come to see us. "

"Don't worry her. I would rather you didn't, " said Trevor. 

His mother looked at him again, and her heart sank. 

"Is it possible he has proposed for her, and she will not accept him?"thought the mother; and then she drew her proud little head up, and afeeling of indignation filled her heart. If Florence was going to treather boy, the very light of her eyes, cruelly, she certainly need expectno mercy from his mother. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

AN ADMIRABLE ARRANGEMENT. 

Trevor took his departure, and the gay throng at Mrs. Simpson's laughedand joked and made merry. 

Florence had now worked herself into apparent high spirits. She ceasedto care whether she talked rubbish or not. She was no longer silent. Many people asked to be introduced to the rising star, and many peoplecongratulated her. Instead of being modest, and a little stupid andretiring, she now answered back badinage with flippant words of her own. Her cleverness was such an established fact that her utter nonsense wasreceived as wit, and she soon had throngs of men and women round herlaughing at her words and privately taking note of them. 

Franks all the while stood as a sort of bodyguard. He listened, and hiscool judgment never wavered for a moment. 

"I must give her a hint, " he said to himself; "she requires training. That sort of sparkling, effervescent nonsense is in itself in as badtaste and is as poor as the essay she sent me when she played her greatpractical joke. She is playing a practical joke now on these people, leading them to believe that her chaff is wit. "

He came up to her gravely in a pause in the conversation, and asked herif she would like to go in to supper. She laid her hand on his arm, andthey threaded their way through the throng. They did not approach thesupper-room, however. Franks led her into a small alcove just beside thegreenhouse. 

"Ah, " he said, "I have been watching this place; couples have been in itthe whole evening: couples making love, couples making arrangements forfuture work, couples of all sorts, and now this couple, you and I, findourselves here. We are as alone as if we were on the top of Mont Blanc. "

"What a funny simile!" said Florence. She laughed a little uneasily. "Ithought, " she continued, "you were going to take me in to supper. "

"I will presently; I want first to ask you a question, and to saysomething to you. "

"I am all attention, " replied Florence. 

"There is no use in beating about the bush, " said Franks, after a pause. "The thing admits of either 'yes' or 'no. ' Miss Aylmer, I take a greatinterest in you. "

"Oh, don't, please, " said Florence. 

"But I do; I believe I can help you. I believe that you and I togethercan have a most brilliant career. Shall we work in harness? Shall webecome husband and wife? Don't start; don't say no at first. Think itover: it would be an admirable arrangement. "

"So it would, " said Florence. Her answer came out quietly. She lookedfull into Franks's cold grey eyes, and burst into a mirthless laugh. 

"Why do you look at me like that? Are you in earnest when you admitthat it would be an admirable arrangement?"

"I am absolutely in earnest. Nothing could be more--more--"

"Let me speak. You are not in earnest. It is your good pleasure to takea great many things in life in a joking spirit. Now, for instance, whenyou sent me that bald, disgraceful, girlish essay, you played apractical joke which a less patient man would never have forgiven. To-night, when you talked that rubbish to that crowd of really clevermen and women, you played another practical joke, equally unseemly. "

"I am not a society person, Mr. Franks. I cannot talk well in company. You told me to talk, and I did the best I could. "

"Your chatter was nearly brainless; the people who listened to youto-night won't put up with that sort of thing much longer. It isimpossible with a mind of your order that you should really wish to talknonsense. But I am not going to scold you. I want to know if you willmarry me. "

"If I will be your wife?" said Florence. "Why do you wish it?"

"I think it would be a suitable match. "

"But do you love me?"

Franks paused when Florence asked him that direct question. 

"I admire you very much, " he said. 

"That has nothing to do with it. Admiration is not enough to marry on. Do you love me?"

"I believe I shall love you. "

"May I ask you a very plain question?"

"What is that?"

"If I were not very clever, if I did not write those smart stories andthose clever papers, would you, just for myself, just for my face, andmy heart, and my nature, would you desire me as your wife?"

"That is scarcely a fair thing to ask, for I should never have met youhad you not been just what you are. "

"Well, do you love me?" said Florence again. 

"You are a very strange girl. I think on the whole I do love you. Ifully expect to love you very much when you are my wife. "

"Did you ever love anybody else better than you love me?"

"I didn't expect, Miss Aylmer, to be subjected to this sort ofcross-questioning. There was once a girl--" A new note came intoFranks's voice, and for the first time those eyes of his were softened. 

"She died, " he said softly; "you can never be jealous of her: she is inher grave. Had she lived we should have been married long ago. Don't letus talk of her to-night. You and I can have a brilliant career. Will yousay 'yes'?"

"I cannot answer you to-night. You must give me time. "

"Thank you; that is all I require. I am glad you will think it over. Wecan be married soon, for I have a good income. I want you to clearlyunderstand that as my wife you continue writing. I want to lead youforth as one of the most brilliant women before the world. I can trainyou: will you submit to my training?"

Florence shivered slightly. 

"I will let you know to-morrow, " she said. 

"Come, let us go and have supper, " said Franks. He jumped up abruptly, offered Florence his arm, and took her into the supper-room. 

The party broke up soon afterwards. Mrs. Trevor had no opportunity ofseeing Florence, or, rather, she would not give herself an opportunity. 

Mrs. Simpson shook hands with the young literary _débutante_ with markedfavour. Florence looked prettier than anyone had ever seen her lookbefore. Franks took his sister and Florence home to their flat. As heparted from the latter, he ventured to give her hand a slight squeeze. 

"I will call to-morrow morning, " he said. "Can I see you before I go tomy work?"

"Yes, " said Florence; "I shall be at home at"--she paused amoment--"nine o'clock, " she said somewhat eagerly. 

"What! a rendezvous so early?" exclaimed Edith, with a laugh. Frankslaughed also. 

"Quite so, Edith, " he said; "we are all busy people, and have no time towaste. This is merely a business arrangement between Miss Aylmer andmyself. "

"All right, Tom; I am sure I'm not going to interfere, " said Edith. "Good-night. Come in, Miss Aylmer; it is very cold standing out in thestreet. "

The girls entered the house, and went up to their respective rooms. Fires were burning brightly in each and the doors stood open. 

"You will come into my room and have cocoa, will you not?" said Edith toFlorence. 

"No, thank you; not to-night. "

Edith looked full at her. 

"Has Tom proposed to you?" she said suddenly. 

"I don't know why you should ask me that question. "

"Your face answers me. You will be a fool if you accept him. He is notthe man to make any woman happy. Don't tell him that I said it; but heis cold through and through. Only one woman, poor Lucy Leigh, who diedbefore she was twenty, ever touched his heart. What heart he had is inher grave: you will never kindle it into life. Take him if you wish forsuccess, but do not say that I never warned you. "

Edith went into her room and slammed the door somewhat noisily behindher. Florence entered hers. The late post had brought a letter--oneletter. She started when she saw the postmark, and a premonition offresh trouble came over her. Then, standing by the fire, she slowlyopened the envelope. The contents were as follows:--

 _"Aylmer's Court, Dec. 3rd. _

 "MY DEAR FLORENCE--

 "I would come to see you, but am kept here by Mrs. Aylmer's indisposition. She has been seriously unwell and in the doctor's hands since Maurice Trevor left her in the disgraceful fashion he has done. He has nearly broken her heart, but I hope to have the solace of mending it. I wish to say now that from words dropped to Mrs. Aylmer it is highly probable that he has gone to town for the purpose of proposing to you. Accept him, of course, if you wish. It is likely, very likely, that you will return his affection, for he is an attractive man, and has a warm heart, and also a good one. I have nothing whatever to do with that, but clearly understand the moment the news reaches me that you are betrothed to Maurice Trevor, on that very day I shall tell Mrs. Aylmer the whole truth with regard to the stories which are running in the _Argonaut_ and the paper which has already appeared in the _General Review_. I do not mind whether I go under or not; but you shall be seen in your true colours before ever you become the wife of Maurice Trevor. 

 "Yours faithfully--and faithful I shall be in that particular--BERTHA KEYS. "

CHAPTER XL. 

IS IT "YES" OR "NO"?

Florence sat up long with that letter lying in her lap. The fire burnedlow and finally went out. Still she sat by the cold hearth, and once ortwice she touched the letter, and once or twice she read it. 

"It burns into me; it is written in my heart in letters of fire, " shesaid to herself finally, and then she rose slowly and stretched her armsand crossed the room and looked out at the sky. From the top of herlofty flat she could see just a little sky above the London roofs. Itwas a clear cold night with a touch of frost, and the stars were allbrilliant. Florence gazed up at them. 

"There is a lofty and pure and grand world somewhere, " she said toherself; "but it is not for me. Good-bye, Maurice; I could have lovedyou well. With you I would have been good, very good: with you I mighthave climbed up: the stars would not have been quite out of reach. Good-bye, Maurice; it is not to be. "

She took Bertha's letter, put it on the cold hearth, set fire to it, andsaw it consumed to ashes. Then she undressed and went to bed. Whateverher dreams were she rose in good time in the morning. She had aconsiderable amount to do. She was to see Franks at nine o'clock. Shewas to see Trevor later on. 

She had to copy a whole very brilliant story of Bertha's. She was a slowwriter and there was nothing of talent in her handwriting. 

"I am a very stupid girl when all is said and done, " she said toherself; "I am not even in the ordinary sense of the word well-educated. I have been years studying, but somehow I think I must have a frivoloussort of brain. Perhaps I have taken after the little Mummy. The littleMummy never was clever. She is a dear little mother when all is said anddone, and very comforting when one is in trouble, and if I saw her now Imight break down and fling my arms round her neck and confess to her. With all her silliness she would comfort me and she would never reproachme; but I must not tell. There is no softness in my future. Thankgoodness, at least I am young; I may have a great career; I will besatisfied to be famous. It will be terribly, terribly, difficult to befamous through the whim of another woman; but I suppose Bertha will notforsake me. "

She dressed, prepared her breakfast as usual, and had just washed upafterwards and put her little sitting-room in order when Franks's knockwas heard at her door. He entered in that brisk, business-like, utterlycool way which always characterised him. He looked immaculate and fresh. He was always extremely particular about his appearance. His collarswere invariably as white as the driven snow, and his clothes well cut. He dressed himself between the style of a country gentleman and a man ofbusiness. He never wore frock-coats, for instance. He was a small man, but well made. He held himself upright as a soldier. His black hair wasbrushed back from his lofty white brow. He had straight black eye-browsand a neat little black moustache and straight features. His skin was ofan olive tint. Those well-cut, classical features gave to his face acertain cold sameness of outline. It was almost impossible to surprisehim or to cause emotion to visit his countenance. He looked now ascomposed as though he had merely come to give Florence a fresh order forwork. 

"Ah, " he said, "there you are. One minute past nine; sorry I am late;accept my apologies. "

Florence pushed forward a chair. She could scarcely bring herself tospeak. Even her lips were white. Franks did not sit; he came a stepnearer. 

"I have exactly ten minutes, " he said; "this is a purely businessarrangement. Is it to be 'yes' or 'no?'"

"If you will faithfully assure me that--" began Florence, and then shestopped and wetted her lips. Her mouth was so dry she could scarcelyproceed. 

Franks gave an impatient start. He took out his watch and glanced at it. 

"Yes, " he said, "I am awfully sorry; if it is no, it won't be necessaryto keep me now. "

"I must speak; you cannot hurry me. "

"Oh, all right; take your own time, " said Franks. His face beamed allover for a moment. He looked at the girl with a certain covetousness. After all, there was something about her which might develop intostrength and even beauty. She had been pretty last night. She wouldassuredly be his stepping-stone to great fame. He was a very clever manhimself, but he was not a genius. With Florence, with their two forcescombined, might they not rise to any position?

"Yes, my dear, yes?" he said. "Sit down, Florence, sit down. "

She shivered when he called her by her Christian name, but she did dropinto a chair. He drew his own close to hers. 

"Yes, Florence, " he said, "what is it? You are about to make conditions. If they lead to 'yes' I will fulfil them. "

"I only want to ask you to repeat something which you said last night. "

"What is that?"

"Can you assuredly tell me that you are only marrying me just becauseyou think that you and I together can be famous?"

"You would not like me to say that sort of thing, would you?"

"On the contrary, if I firmly know, firmly and truly from your own lips, that you do _not_ love me, that there is no love in the matter, that itis a mere business arrangement----"

"Well, what?"

"It would be, I think, _possible_. "

"Then that means 'yes. ' I like you very much. I hope a day may come whenI shall love you. "

"I want it clearly to be understood, " said Florence, "that I do not wishfor that day. I don't love you at all, and I don't want you to love me;but if we can, as you say, work in harness, perhaps it would be best. Anyhow, I----"

"You say 'yes, ' my dear girl; that is all I need. We can talk over thosecurious ideas of yours later on. You are engaged to me, Florence--come. "

He went quickly up to her, put his arm round her waist, drew her closeto him, and kissed her on the forehead. 

"I am not repugnant to you, am I?" he said, as she shrank away. 

"I don't know, " she replied; "I am selling myself and you are buying me:I hope I shall prove a good bargain. I don't want you to imagine for amoment that I care for you; but I am selling myself, and it may bebest. "

"You must drop all that kind of nonsense when once you are my wife, " hesaid. "As it is, I bear with it. We shall be married before Christmas. We will take a flat in a fashionable part and see literary people. Wewill start a new salon. Now good-bye; I will call again to-night. By theway, how is the story getting on?"

"I don't know that I can quite finish it all to-day, but you shall haveit by the time I promised. "

"Thank you, Florence. I believe you and I are acting wisely. I hope weshall be kind to each other: we have a great deal in common. You couldnot step up as high as I shall place you without my aid, and you areuseful to me: it is an admirable arrangement. Good-bye, dear. "

She shrank so far away that he did not venture to repeat his coldcaress. He again looked at his watch. 

"How late I shall be!" he said. "Anderson will be astonished. He willforgive me, however, when I tell him that I am engaged to my risingstar. Good-bye, Florence. "

"Thank God!" she muttered, when the door closed behind him. She hadscarcely time, however, for reflection before it was opened again, andthis time without knocking. Edith Franks, wearing her hat and coat andbuttoning on her gloves, entered briskly. 

"I thought I heard Tom going downstairs. So he has been?" she enquired. 

"Yes, Edith, he has been. "

Edith came nearer and looked at Florence's face. 

"So you are to be my sister-in-law, " she said. 

"Don't scold me, please, Edith. "

"Good gracious, no dear; I gave you my word of warning last night. Now Iam all congratulations. You will make a nice little sister-in-law, andwe are proud of your ability. Go on and prosper. You have chosenambition. Some women would prefer love, but everyone to their taste. I'moff. Good-bye, Florence. I see you would much rather not be kissed. Tomhas been doing that, doubtless. I will see you again this evening. "

Edith went out of the room in her brisk way. She shut the door quickly. 

Florence went straight to the window. She stood there for a minute ortwo looking out. Then she dropped into a chair and, taking a sheet ofnote-paper, began to write. She was writing to Bertha. 

 "MY DEAR BERTHA--

 "The letter I received from you last night requires no comment. You may perhaps be glad to hear that I have just engaged myself to Mr. Franks, the sub-editor of the _Argonaut_, and a very distinguished man. We are to be married before Christmas. It is his particular wish that I should go on writing, and it is one of the conditions that we shall both pursue our own careers independently of the other, and yet each helped by the other. You will, I am sure, fulfil your part of the bargain. I shall want another story of about five thousand words next week, as terse, and brilliant, and clever as you can make it. I shall also want an article for the _General Review_. Make it smart, but avoid the woman question. I have been bullied on the subject, and did not know how to answer. 

 "Yours truly, "FLORENCE AYLMER. "

This letter written, Florence did not even wait to read it. She put itinto an envelope, directed it, and ran out with it to the nearestpillar-box. She dropped it in and returned to the house. It was not yeteleven o'clock. How tired she was! It was nearly two hours since Franksand she had ratified their contract. She was engaged now--engaged to aman who did not profess to love her, for whom she did not feel thefaintest glimmering of affection. She was engaged and safe; yes, ofcourse she was safe. No fear now of her ghastly secret being discovered!As long as Bertha lived the stories could be conveyed to her, and thestories would mean fame, and she would go on adding fame to fame andgreatness to greatness until she was known, not only in England, but inAmerica, and in the Colonies, as a new writer of great promise, andFranks would be rich. Oh, yes, he would manage her financial affairs inthe future. He would not allow her to sell her talent for less than itwas worth. He would instruct her how to dress, and how to speak when shewas in public; he would take care that she did not give herself away asshe had all but done last night. He would be her master, and doubtlessshe would find herself ruled by an iron rod. But no matter: she wassafe. She would not think even for a moment of what she was throwingaway. Such was her feeling; but never mind: she had chosen the wrong andrefused the right. Great temptation had come, and she had not been ableto resist it, and now the only way was to go straight on; and Franks hadmade that way plain. It was the broad road which led to destruction. Shewas pricked by many thorns, and the broad road was the reverse ofpleasant, and she saw dizzily how steep the hill would grow by-and-by, and how fast the descent would be; but never mind: she at least was safefor the present. 

She panted and felt herself turning slightly cold as this last thoughtcame to her, for there was a tap at the door, and Trevor, his facewhite, his grey eyes anxious, an expression of earnestness and lovebeaming all over his features, came in. 

He was in every way the opposite of Tom Franks. 

Florence looked wildly at him. She must go through the dreadfulhalf-hour which was before her. She hoped he would not stay long: thathe would take his dismissal quietly. She dared not think too hard; shedid her utmost to drive thought out. 

"Well, " said Trevor, "have I come too early?"

"Oh, no, " said Florence, "it is past eleven, " and she looked listlesslyat the clock. 

He tried to take her hand. She put it immediately behind her. 

"You have come to ask me a question, have you not?" she said. 

"I have. You promised me your confidence last night. "

"I did not promise: I said I might give it. "

"Am I to expect it?"

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know this, " said Trevor. He took out of his pocket a copy ofthe _General Review_. He opened it at the page where Florence's articleappeared. He then also produced from his pocket-book a tiny slip ofpaper, a torn slip, on which, in Bertha Keys's handwriting, was theidentical sentence which had attracted so much attention in the_Review_. 

"Look, " he said. 

Florence did look. Her frightened eyes were fixed upon the scrap ofpaper. 

"Where--where did you get that?" she said. 

"It is remarkable, " he said; "I thought perhaps _you_ would explain. Ihave read your paper--I am not going to say whether I like it or not. Doyou remember that day when I saw you and gave you a packet at HamsladeStation?"

"Quite well. "

"I think you would not be likely to forget. I was naturally puzzled tofind you so near Mrs. Aylmer's house and yet not there. The packet Igave you was from Miss Keys, was it not?"

"There can be no harm in admitting that fact, " replied Florence, in aguarded voice. 

He looked at her and shook himself impatiently. 

"I was perplexed and amazed at seeing you at the station. "

"You ought to try and curb your curiosity, Mr. Trevor, " said Florence. She tried to speak lightly and in a bantering tone. He was too much inearnest to take any notice of her tone. 

"I was curious; I had reason to be, " he replied. "I went home. MissKeys, Miss Sharston and others were in the hall. They were talking aboutyou, and Miss Sharston showed me one of your stories. I read it; we bothread it, and with keen curiosity. "

"Was it the first or the second?" said Florence. 

"The first story. It was clever; it was not a bit the sort of story Ithought you would have written. "

Florence lowered her eyes. 

"The style was remarkable and distinctive, " he continued; "it was notthe style of a girl so young as you are; but of course that goes fornothing. I went upstairs to Mrs. Aylmer's boudoir: I wanted to fetch abook. I don't think I was anxious to read, but I was restless. The booklay on Miss Keys's desk. On the desk also were some torn sheets ofpaper. I picked up one mechanically. "

"You read what was not meant for you to read!" said Florence, her eyesflashing. 

Trevor gave her a steady glance. 

"I admit that I read a sentence--the sentence I have just shown you. Iwill frankly tell you that I was surprised at it; I was puzzled by theresemblance between the style of the story and the style of thesentence. I put the torn sheet of paper into my pocket-book. I don'texactly know why I did it at the time, but I felt desperate. I wastaking a great interest in you. It seemed to me that if you did wrong Iwas doing wrong myself. It seemed to me that if by any chance your soulwas smirched, or made unhappy, or blackened, or any of its loftiness andits god-like quality removed, my own soul was smirched too, my ownnature lowered. But I thought no special harm of you, although I wastroubled; and that night I learned for the first time that I wasinterested in you because I loved you, because you were the first of allwomen to me, and I----"

"Oh, don't, " said Florence, "don't say any more. " She turned away fromhim, flung herself on the sofa, and sobbed as if her heart would break. 

Trevor stood near for a little in much bewilderment. Presently sheraised her eyes. He sat down on the sofa by her. 

"Why don't you tell me everything, Florence?" he said, with greattenderness in his tone. 

"I cannot: it is too late. Think what you like of me! Suspect me as youwill! I do not think you would voluntarily injure me. I cannot give youmy confidence, for I----"

"Yes, dear, yes; don't tremble so. Poor little girl, you will be betterafterwards. I won't ask you too much; only tell me, sweetest, with yourown lips that you love me. "

"I am not sweet, I am not dear, I am not darling. I am a bad girl, badin every way, " said Florence. "Think of me as you like. I dare not benear you: I dare not speak to you. Oh, yes, perhaps I _could_ have lovedyou: I won't think of that now. I am engaged to another man. "

"You engaged!" said Trevor. He sprang to his feet as if someone had shothim. He trembled a little; then he pulled himself together. "Say itagain. "

"I am engaged to Mr. Franks. "

"But you were not engaged last night?"

"No. "

"When did this take place?"

"Two hours ago; he came at nine--a minute past, I think. We becameengaged; it is all settled. Good-bye; forget me. "

Florence still kept her hands behind her. She rose: her miserabletear-stained face and her eyes full of agony were raised for a moment toTrevor's. 

"Do go, " she said; "it is all over. I have accepted the part that is notgood, and you must forget me. "

CHAPTER XLI. 

THE LITTLE MUMMY IN LONDON. 

Two days later a little woman might have been seen paying a cabman atthe door of No. 12, Prince's Mansions. She argued with him over thefare, but finally yielded to his terms, and then she tripped upstairs, throwing back her long widow's veil, which she always insisted onwearing. She reached the door which had been indicated to her as the oneleading to Florence's room. She tapped, but there was no answer. Shetried to turn the handle: the door was locked. Just as she was soengaged, a girl with a bright, keen face and resolute manner opened thenext door and popped out her head. 

"Pardon me, " said Mrs. Aylmer the less, for of course it was she, "butcan you tell me if my daughter Florence is likely to be in soon?"

"Your daughter Florence?" repeated the girl. "Are you Mrs. Aylmer--Florence's mother?"

"That is my proud position, my dear. I am the mother of that extremelygifted girl. "

"She is out, but I daresay she will be in soon, " said Edith Franks. "Will you come into my room and wait for her?"

"With pleasure. How very kind of you!" said Mrs. Aylmer. She trippedinto the room, accepted the seat which Edith pointed out to her nearthe fire, and untied her bonnet strings. 

"Dear, dear!" she said, as she looked around her. "Very comfortableindeed. And is _this_ what indicates the extreme poverty of those ladygirls who toil?"

"That is a remarkable sentence, " said Edith. "Do you mind saying itagain?"

Mrs. Aylmer looked at her and smiled. 

"I won't say it again, " she said, "for it does not fit the circumstance. You do not toil. "

"But indeed I do; I work extremely hard--often eight or nine hours aday. "

"Good gracious! How crushing! But you don't look bad. "

"I have no intention of being bad, for I enjoy my work. I am studying tobe a lady doctor. "

"Oh, don't, " said Mrs. Aylmer. She immediately drew down her veil andseated herself in such a position that the light should not fall on herface. 

"I have heard of those awful medical women, " she said, after a pause, "and I assure you the mere idea of them makes me ill. I hope they willnever become the fashion. You expect medical knowledge in a man, but notin a woman. My dear, pray don't stare at me; you may discover that Ihave some secret disease which I do not know of myself. I do not wish itfound out even if it exists. Please keep your eyes off me. "

"I am not going to diagnose your case, if that is what you mean, "replied Edith, with a smile. "I am by no means qualified: I have to passmy exams in America. "

"Thank you. " Mrs. Aylmer sighed again. "It is a relief to know that atpresent you understand but little of the subject. I hope some good manmay marry you and prevent your becoming that monster--a woman doctor. But now to change the subject. I am extremely anxious for my daughter toreturn. I have bad news for her. Can you tell me how she is?"

"Well, I think, " replied Edith. 

"You know her. "

"Oh, yes, rather intimately. Have you not heard our news?"

"What news?"

"She is engaged to my brother. "

"What?" cried Mrs. Aylmer. She sprang to her feet; she forgot in herexcitement all fear of the embryo medical woman. She dropped her cloakand rushed forward to where Edith was standing and seized both herhands. 

"My girl engaged to your brother! And pray who is your brother?"

"A very rising journalist, a remarkably clever man. It is, let me tellyou, Mrs. Aylmer, an excellent match for your daughter. "

"Oh, that remains to be seen. I don't at all know that I countenance theengagement. "

"I am afraid you cannot help it now. Florence is of age. I wonder shedid not write to you. "

"I may not have received her letter. The fact is I have been away fromhome for the last day or two. But I wish she would return, as I havecome on most urgent business. Pray, miss--I do not even know your name. "

"Franks, " replied Edith: "Edith Franks. "

"Pray, Miss Franks, do not spread the story of my daughter's engagementto your brother just for a day or two. Circumstances may alter matters, and until a girl has been really _led_ to the altar I never considerthis sort of thing final. Ah! whose step is that on the stairs? Ibelieve it is my Flo's. "

Mrs. Aylmer tripped to the door, flung it open, and stood in anexpectant attitude. 

The next moment Florence, accompanied by Tom Franks, appeared. Mrs. Aylmer looked at him, and in a flash said, under her breath: "The futureson-in-law. " Then she went up to Florence and kissed her. 

"Oh, mother, " said Florence, looking by no means elated at thisunexpected appearance of the little Mummy on the scene, "what hasbrought you to town?"

"Most important business, dear. I must see you immediately in your room. I assure you nothing would induce me to spend the money I did were itnot absolutely necessary that I should see you at once. This gentleman, you must tell him to go, Florence; I have not a single moment to wasteover him now. "

"Let me introduce Mr. Franks to you, mother. Tom, this is my mother. Youknow, mother, that I am engaged to Mr. Franks. "

"I know nothing of the kind, " replied Mrs. Aylmer angrily. 

Florence smiled. 

"But I wrote to you, mother; I told you everything. "

"Perhaps so, dear, but I didn't receive the letter. I cannot acknowledgethe engagement just now. I am very much agitated. Mr. Franks, you will, I hope, excuse me. Of course I know the feelings of all young men undersuch circumstances, and I wish to do nothing rude or in any wayimpolite, but just now I _must_ see my daughter alone. "

"You had better go, Tom, " said Florence. She took the key of her roomout of her pocket, opened the door, and ushered her mother in. 

"Now, mother, " she said. "Oh, dear, the fire is out. " She walked to thehearth, stooped down, and began to light the fire afresh. Mrs. Aylmersat near the window. 

"Now, mother, " said Florence, just looking round her, "what have youcome about?"

"I thought you would give me a welcome, " said Mrs. Aylmer the less; "youused to be an affectionate girl. "

"Oh, used!" said Florence. "But people change as they grow older. Sometimes I think I have not any heart. "

"But you have engaged yourself to that man. I presume you love him. "

"No, I don't love him at all. "

"Flo, it is impious to hear your talk; it is just on a par with thoseawfully clever papers of yours--those stories and those articles. Youhave made a terrible sensation at Dawlish. You are becoming notorious, my dear. It is awful for a little widow like me to have a notoriousdaughter. You must stop it, Flo; you really must!"

"Come, mother, I will get you a cup of tea. What does it matter what theDawlish people say? You will spend the night, of course?"

"You and I, my dear, will spend some of the night in the train. "

"Now, mother, what does this mean?"

"Listen, Flo. Yes, you may get me a cup of tea and a new-laid egg, ifyou have such a thing. "

"But I have not. "

"Then a rasher of bacon done to a turn and a little bit of toast. I cantoast the bread myself. You are not at all badly off in this nice room, but----"

"Go on, mother, go on; do explain why you have come. "

"It is your aunt, dear; she is very ill indeed. She is not expected torecover. "

"What, Aunt Susan?"

"Yes, she has had a serious illness and has taken a turn for the worse. It is double pneumonia, whatever that means. Anyhow, it is frightfullyfatal, and the doctors have no hope. I went to see her. "

"When you heard she was ill, mother?"

"No, I didn't hear she was ill. I felt so desperate about you and theextraordinary sentiments you were casting wholesale upon the world thatI could stand it no longer, and when you sent me that last cheque Ithought I would make a final appeal to Susan. So I put on my very bestblack silk----"

Florence now with a quick sigh resumed her duties as tea-maker. Mrs. Aylmer was fairly launched on her narrative. 

"I put on my very best black silk--the one that nice, charming, _clever_Miss Keys sent to me--and I told Sukey that I should be away for acouple of days and that she was to expect me when she heard from me, andshe was _not_ to forward letters. I didn't expect any from you, and yourletters lately have been the reverse of comforting, and I started offand got to Aylmer's Court yesterday evening. I took a cab and drovestraight there, and when the man opened the door I said: 'I am Mrs. Aylmer; I have come to see my sister-in-law, ' and of course there wasnothing for it but to let me in, although the flunkey said: 'I don'tthink she is quite as bad as that, ma'am, ' and I looked at him and said:'What do you mean?' and I had scarcely uttered the words before MissKeys, so elegantly dressed and looking such a perfect lady, trippeddownstairs and said, in a kind tone: 'So you have come! I am glad youhave come. ' She did, Florence; those were her very words. She said: 'Iam glad you have come. ' It was so refreshing to hear her, and she tookme into one of the spacious reception-rooms--oh! my dear child, a roomwhich ought to be yours by-and-by--and she made me sit down, and thenshe told me. There have been dreadful things happening, my dearFlorence, and that wicked young man whom I took such a fancy to hasturned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. He broke my poor, dear, _warm-hearted_ sister-in-law's heart. "

"Now, mother, why do you talk rubbish?" said Florence. "You know AuntSusan is not warm-hearted. "

"She has not been understood, " said Mrs. Aylmer, beginning to sob. Shetook a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away her tears. "Thecircumstances of her life have proved how warm her heart is, " shecontinued. "She adopted that young man and he played her false. "

"He did not, " said Florence. 

"He did, Flo; he did. She wanted him to marry--to make a most suitablematch--and he refused her. Bertha told me all about it. He was in lovewith some stupid, poor, plain girl, goodness knows where. Bertha saidthere was no doubt of it, and he went away and broke with my poorsister, although she loved him so much and was better than twentymothers to him. She had just offered him a thousand a year aspocket-money. You will scarcely believe it, Flo, but the ungratefulwretch gave it all up for the sake of that girl. I never heard of such aman, and to think that I should have angled--yes, I did, dear--that youshould know him!"

"Here is your tea, mother. Can you not stop talking for a little? Youwill wear yourself out. "

"What a queer, stern, cold voice you have, Florence! You are not half asinterested as you used to be. "

"Do drink your tea, mother. "

Mrs. Aylmer was not proof against the fragrant cup. She broke a piece oftoast and put it into her mouth, she sipped her tea, but nothing couldstop her narrative. 

"Soon after he left, that wicked young man, " she resumed, "poor Susanfell ill. She got worse and worse, and what apparently was only a slightattack soon assumed serious dimensions, and there is little hope of herlife, and Bertha tells me that she has altered her will or is about toalter it. I cannot quite make out whether it is done or whether it isabout to be done; but anyhow, Flo, you and I go back to Aylmer's Courtto-night. By hook or by crook we will show ourselves, my love, and Iwill take the responsibility of leading you into your aunt's room, andyou shall go on your knees and beg her forgiveness. That is what I havecome about, Florence. It is not too late. Poor Bertha, I can see, isquite on our side. It is not too late, my love; we will catch the verynext train. "

"You don't know what you are saying, mother. It is absolutely impossiblefor me to go. "

"My dearest Flo, why?"

"Let me tell you something. You blame Mr. Trevor. "

"I always blame ungrateful people, " said Mrs. Aylmer, putting on a mostvirtuous air. 

"And yet, " said Florence--"yes, I will speak. Do you know who theworthless girl was for whom he gave up great wealth and a highposition?"

"How can I tell? I don't want to hear her name. "

"_I_ was that girl, mother. "

"What do you mean?"

"And Bertha knew it, " continued Florence; "she knew it well. Oh, I darenot say much against Bertha, but I won't have Mr. Trevor abused. Hefound out, mother, that, worthless as I am, he loved me. Oh, mother, pity me! pity me!"

Poor Florence suddenly fell on her knees. She bowed her head on thetable and burst into tears. It was not often she cried. Mrs. Aylmer didnot remember seeing Florence weep since that dreadful morning when theyhad both fled from Cherry Court in disgrace. 

"Flo, " she said, "Flo!"

"Pity me, Mummy; pity me!" said Florence. 

The next instant the little Mummy's arms were round her. 

"Oh, I am so glad you have a heart!" said the little Mummy, "and ofcourse I don't blame him for loving you, but I do not understand it. Bertha could not have known. She said she was quite a low sort ofperson. Oh, Flo, my love, this is splendid! You will marry him, ofcourse! I don't believe Susan has altered her will. You will just getthe riches in the very best possible way as his wife. I always said hewas a _most_ charming young man. It was Bertha who turned me againsthim. She is awfully clever, Flo, and if I really thought----"

"I dare not say anything against Bertha, mother. But I cannot go toAylmer's Court; you must not ask it. I am engaged now to Tom Franks, andI won't break my engagement off. I am a very, very unhappy girl. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

BERTHA KEYS DEFEATED. 

There is little doubt that Mrs. Aylmer was very ill. Step by step anattack, which was apparently at first of little moment, became seriousand then dangerous. The cold became pneumonia, the pneumonia becamedouble pneumonia, and now there was a hard fight for life. Nurses weresummoned, doctors were requisitioned, everything that wealth could dowas employed for the relief and the recovery of the sick woman. Butthere are times when Death laughs at wealth, with all its contrivancesand all its hopes: when Death takes very little heed of what friends sayor what doctors do. Death has his own duty to perform, and Mrs. Aylmer'stime had come. Notwithstanding the most recent remedies for the felldisease, notwithstanding the care of the best nurses London could supplyand the skill of the cleverest doctors, Death entered that sick-chamberand stood by that woman's pillow and whispered to her that her hour hadcome. 

Mrs. Aylmer, propped up in her bed so that she might breathe better, herface ghastly with the terrible exertion, called Bertha to her side. Shecould scarcely speak, but she managed to convey her meaning to the girl. 

"I am very bad; I know I shall not recover. "

"You have to make your will over again, " said Bertha, who was as coolas cool could be in this emergency. Not one of the nurses could be morecollected or calm than Bertha. She herself would have made a splendidnurse, for she had tact and sympathy, and the sort of voice which nevergrated on the ear. The doctors were almost in love with her: theythought they had never seen so capable a girl, so grave, so quiet, sosuitably dressed, so invaluable in all emergencies. 

Mrs. Aylmer could scarcely bear Bertha out of her sight, and the doctorssaid to themselves: "Small wonder!"

On the afternoon of the day when Mrs. Aylmer the less went to seeFlorence in London, Mrs. Aylmer the great went down another step in thedark valley. The doctor said that she might live for two or three daysmore, but that he did not think it likely. The disease was spreading, and soon it would be impossible for her to breathe. She was frightened. She had not spent a specially good life. She had given, it is true, large sums in charity, but she had not really ever helped the poor, andhad not brought a smile to the lip or a tear of thankfulness to the eye. She had lived a hard life; she had thought far more of herself than ofher neighbour, and now that she was about to die it seemed to her thatshe was not ready. For the first time, all the importance of money fadedfrom her mind. No matter how rich she was and how great, she would haveto leave the world with a naked, unclothed soul. She could not take anyof her great possessions with her, nor could she offer to her Maker asingle thing which would satisfy Him, when He made up the balance of heraccount. She was frightened about herself. 

"Bertha, " she said to her young companion, "come here, Bertha. "

Bertha bent over her. 

"Is it true that I am not going to get better?"

"You are very ill, " said Bertha; "you ought to make your will. "

"But I have made it: what do you mean?"

"I thought, " said Bertha, "that"--she paused, then she said gravely:"you have not altered it since Maurice Trevor went away. I thought thatyou had made up your mind that he and Florence Aylmer were not toinherit your property. "

"Of course I have, " said the sick woman, a frightened, anxious lookcoming into her eyes. "Not that it much matters, " she added, after apause. "Florence is as good as another, and if Maurice really cares forher----"

"Oh, impossible, " said Bertha; "you know you do not wish all yourestates, your lands, your money, to pass into the hands of that wicked, deceitful girl. "

"I have heard, " said Mrs. Aylmer, still speaking in that gasping voice, "that Florence is doing great things for herself in London. "

"What do you mean?"

"She is considered clever. She is writing very brilliantly. After all, there is such a thing as literary fame, and if at the eleventh hour sheachieves it, why, she as well as another may inherit my wealth, and I amtoo tired, Bertha, too tired to worry now. "

"You know she must _not_ have your property!" said Bertha. "I will sendfor Mr. Wiltshire: you said you would alter the will: it is only to adda codicil to the last one, and the deed is done. "

"As you please, " said Mrs. Aylmer. 

Bertha hurried away. 

Mr. Wiltshire, Mrs. Aylmer's lawyer, lived in the nearest town, fivemiles distant. Bertha wrote him a letter and sent a man on horseback tohis house. The lawyer arrived about nine o'clock that evening. 

"You must see her at once: she may not live till the morning, " saidBertha. There was a pink spot on each of Bertha's cheeks, and her eyeswere very bright. 

"I made my client's will six months ago. All her affairs are in perfectorder. What does this mean?" said Mr. Wiltshire. 

"Mrs. Aylmer and I have had a long conversation lately, and I know Mrs. Aylmer wants to alter her will, " said Bertha. "Mr. Trevor has offendedher seriously: he has repudiated all her kindness and left the house. "

"Dear, dear!" said the lawyer; "how sad!"

"How ungrateful, you mean!" said Bertha. 

"That is quite true. How different from your conduct, my dear younglady. "

As the lawyer spoke, he looked full into Bertha's excited face. 

"Ah!" said Miss Keys, with a sigh, "if I had that wealth I should knowwhat to do with it; for instance, you, Mr. Wiltshire, should notsuffer. "

Now, Mr. Wiltshire was not immaculate. He had often admired Bertha: hehad thought her an extremely taking girl. It had even occurred to himthat, under certain conditions, she might be a very suitable wife forhim. He was a widower of ten years' standing. 

"I will see my client now that I have come, " he said, rising. "Perhapsyou had better prepare her for my visit. "

"She knows you are coming. I will take you up at once. "

"But it may be too great a shock. "

"Not at all; she is past all that sort of thing. Come this way. "

Bertha and the lawyer entered the heavily-curtained, softly carpetedroom. Their footsteps made no sound as they crossed the floor. Thenurses withdrew and they approached the bedside. Bertha had ink andpaper ready to hand. The lawyer held out his hand to Mrs. Aylmer. 

"My dear, dear friend, " he said, in that solemn voice which he thoughtbefitting a death-bed and which he only used on these special occasions, "this is a most trying moment; but if I can do anything to relieve yourmind, and to help you to a just disposition of the great wealth withwhich Providence has endowed you, it may ease your last moments. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Aylmer, in a choking voice, "they are my last moments;but I think all my affairs are settled. "

Bertha looked at him and withdrew. Her eyes seemed to say: "Take mypart, and you will not repent it. "

Mr. Wiltshire immediately took his cue. 

"I am given to understand that Mr. Trevor has offended you, " he said;"is that so?"

"He has, mortally; but I am too ill to worry now. "

"It will be easy to put a codicil to your will if you have any freshdesires with regard to your property, " said Mr. Wiltshire. 

"I am dying, Mr. Wiltshire. When you come to face death, you don't muchcare about money. It cannot go with you, you know. "

"But it can stay behind you, my dear madam, and do good to others. "

"True, true. "

"I fear, I greatly fear that Mr. Trevor may squander it, " said Mr. Wiltshire slowly. 

"I have no one else to leave it to. "

"There is that charming and excellent girl; but dare I suggest it?"

"Which charming and excellent girl?"

"Your secretary and companion, Miss Bertha Keys. "

"Ay, " said Mrs. Aylmer, "but I should be extremely sorry that she shouldinherit my money. "

"Indeed, and why? No one has been more faithful to you. I know she doesnot expect a farthing; it would be a graceful surprise. She has one ofthe longest heads for business I have ever come across; she is anexcellent girl. "

"Write a codicil and put her name into it, " said Mrs. Aylmer fretfully;"I will leave her something. "

Pleased even with this assent, somewhat ungraciously given, the lawyernow sat down and wrote some sentences rapidly. 

"The sum you will leave to her, " he said: "ten, twenty, thirty, forty, shall we say _fifty_ thousand pounds, my dear Mrs. Aylmer?"

"Forty--fifty if you like--_anything_! Oh, I am choking--I shall die!"cried Mrs. Aylmer. 

Mr. Wiltshire hastily inserted the words "fifty thousand pounds" in thecodicil. He then took a pen, and called two of the nurses into the room. 

"You must witness this, " he said. "Please support the patient withpillows. Now, my dear Mrs. Aylmer, just put your name there. "

The pen was put into the trembling hand. 

"I am giving my money back to--but what does this mean?" Mrs. Aylmerpushed the paper away. 

"Sign, sign, " said the lawyer; "it is according to your instructions; itis all right. Sign it. "

"Poor lady! It is a shame to worry her on the very confines of thegrave, " said one of the nurses angrily. 

"Just write here; you know you have the strength. Here is the pen. "

The lawyer put the pen into Mrs. Aylmer's hand. She held it limply for aminute and began to sign. The first letter of her Christian nameappeared in a jagged form, the next letter was about to begin when thehand fell and the pen was no longer grasped in the feeble fingers. 

"I am about to meet my Maker, " she said, with a great sob; "send for theclergyman. Take that away. "

"I shall not allow the lady to be worried any longer, " said one of thenurses, with flashing eyes. 

Mr. Wiltshire was defeated; so was Bertha Keys. The clergyman came andsat for a long time with the sick woman. She listened to what he had tosay and then put a question to him. 

"I am stronger than I was earlier in the day. I can do what I could notdo a few hours back. Oh, I know well that I shall never recover, butbefore I go hence I want to give back what was entrusted to me. "

"What do you mean by that?" he asked. 

"I mean my money, my wealth; I wish to return it to God. "

"Have you not made your will? It is always right that we should leaveour affairs in perfect order. "

"I wish to make a fresh will, and at once. My lawyer, Mr. Wiltshire, hascome and gone. He wanted me to sign a codicil which would have beenwicked. God did not wish it, so He took my strength away. I could notsign the codicil, but now I can sign a fresh will which may be made. IfI dictate a fresh will to you, and I put my proper signature, and twonurses sign it, will it be legal?"

"Quite legal, " replied the clergyman. 

"I will tell you my wishes. Get paper. "

The minister crossed the room, took a sheet of paper from a table whichstood in the window, and prepared to write. 

Mrs. Aylmer's eyes were bright, her voice no longer trembling, and shespoke quickly. 

"I, Susan Aylmer, of Aylmer's Court, Shropshire, being quite in my rightmind, leave, with the exception of a small legacy of fifty pounds a yearto my sister-in-law, Mrs. Aylmer, of Dawlish, all the money I possess totwo London hospitals to be chosen by my executor. --Have you put _all_the money I possess?" she enquired. 

"Yes; but is your will fair?" he said. "Have you no other relations towhom you ought to leave some of your wealth?"

"I give all that I possess back to God. He gave me my wealth, and Heshall have it again, " repeated Mrs. Aylmer; and she doubtless thoughtshe was doing a noble thing. 

This brief will was signed without any difficulty by the dying woman andattested by the two nurses. Two hours later, the rich woman left herwealth behind her and went to meet her God. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

MRS. AYLMER'S WILL. 

Nothing would induce Florence to go to Aylmer's Court and Mrs. Aylmerthe less, in great distress of mind, was forced to remain with her inher flat that evening. 

Florence gave her the very best that the flat contained, sleepingherself on the sofa in her sitting-room. 

Mrs. Aylmer sat up late and talked and talked until she could talk nolonger. At last Florence got her into bed, and then went to visit Edithin her room. 

"You don't look well, " said Edith; "your engagement has not improvedyou. What is the matter?"

"I don't exactly know what is the matter, " said Florence. "I am worriedabout mother's visit. My aunt, Mrs. Aylmer, is dying. She is a very richwoman. Mother is under the impression that, if she and I went toAylmer's Court, Mrs. Aylmer might leave me her property. I don't wantit; I should hate to have it. I have learned in the last few months thatmoney is not everything. I don't want to have Aunt Susan's money. "

"Well, " replied Edith, staring her full in the face, "that is the mostsensible speech you have made for a long time. I have closely studiedthe question of economics, and have long ago come to the conclusion thatthe person of medium income is the only person who is truly happy. I ameven inclined to believe that living from hand to mouth is the mostenviable state of existence. You never know how the cards will turn up;but the excitement is intense. When I am a doctor, I shall watchpeople's faces with intense interest, wondering whether, when their nextillness comes on, they will send for me; then there will be the countingup of my earnings, and putting my little money by, and living _just_within my means. And then I shall have such wide interests besidesmoney: the cure of my patients, their love and gratitude to meafterwards. It is my opinion, Florence, that the more we live _outside_money, and the smaller place money takes in the pleasures of our lives, the happier we are; for, after all, money can do so little, and I don'tthink any other people can be so miserable as the vastly rich ones. "

"I agree with you, " said Florence. 

"It is more than Tom does, " replied Edith, looking fixedly at her. "After all, Florence, are you not in some ways too good for my brother?"

"In some ways too good for him?" repeated Florence. She turned verywhite. "You don't know me, " she added. 

"I don't believe I do, and, it occurs to me, the more I am with you theless I know you. Florence, is it true that you have a secret in yourlife?"

"It is quite true, " said Florence, raising her big dark eyes and fixingthem on the face of her future sister-in-law. 

"And is it a secret that Tom knows nothing about?"

"A secret, Edith, as you say, that Tom knows nothing about. "

"How very dreadful! And you are going to marry him holding that secret?"

"Yes; I shall not reveal it. If I did, he would not marry me. "

"But what is it, my dear? Won't you even tell me?"

"No, Edith. Tom marries me for a certain purpose. He gets what he wants. I do not feel that I am doing wrong in giving myself to him; but, wrongor right, the thing is arranged: why worry about it now?"

"You are a strange girl. I am sorry you are going to marry my brother. Ido not believe you will be at all happy, but, as I have said already, Ihave expressed my opinion. "

"The marriage is to take place quite quietly three weeks from now, " saidFlorence. "We have arranged everything. We are not going to have anordinary wedding. I shall be married in my travelling-dress. Tom says hecan barely spend a week away from his editorial work, and he wants me tolive in a flat with him at first. "

"Oh, those flats are so detestable, " said Edith; "no air, and you arecrushed into such a tiny space; but I suppose Tom will sacrificeeverything to the sitting-rooms. "

"He means to have a salon: he wants to get all the great and witty andwise around us. It ought to be an interesting future, " said Florence ina dreary tone. 

Edith gazed at her again. 

"Well, " she said, after a pause, "I suppose great talent like yours doescontent one. You certainly are marvellously brilliant. I read your laststory, and thought it the cleverest of the three. But I wish you werenot so pessimistic. It is terrible not to help people. It seems to meyou hinder people when you write as you do. "

"I must write as the spirit moves me, " said Florence, in a would-beflippant voice, "and Tom likes my writing; he says it grows on him. "

"So much the worse for Tom. "

"Well, I will say good-night now, Edith. I am tired, and mother will bedisturbed if I go to bed too late. "

Florence went into her own flat, shut and locked the door, and, lyingdown, tried to sleep. But she was excited and nervous, and no reposewould come to her. Up to the present time, since her engagement, she hadmanaged to keep thought at bay; but now thoughts the most terrible, themost dreary, came in like a flood and banished sleep. Towards morningshe found herself silently crying. 

"Oh, why cannot I break off my engagement with Tom Franks? Why cannot Itell Maurice Trevor the truth?" she said to herself. 

Early the next day Mrs. Aylmer the less received a telegram from BerthaKeys. This was to announce the death of the owner of Aylmer's Court. Mrs. Aylmer the less immediately became almost frantic with excitement. She wanted to insist on Florence accompanying her at once to the Court. Florence stoutly refused to stir an inch. Finally the widow was obligedto go off without her daughter. 

"There is little doubt, " she said, "that we are both handsomelyremembered. I, of course, have my fifty pounds a year--that was settledon me many years ago--but I shall have far more than that now, and you, my poor child, will have a nice tidy fortune, ten to twelve or twentythousand pounds, and then if you will only marry Maurice Trevor, whoinherits all the rest of the wealth, how comfortable you will be! Isuppose you would like me to live with you at Aylmer's Court, would younot?"

"Oh, mother, don't, " said poor Florence. "I have a feeling which Icannot explain that Mrs. Aylmer will disappoint everyone. Don't count onher wealth, mother. Oh, mother, don't think so much of money, for it isnot the most important thing in the world. "

"Money not the most important thing in the world!" said Mrs. Aylmer, backing and looking at her daughter with bright eyes of horror. "Flo, mypoor child, you really are getting weak in your intellect. "

A few moments afterwards she left, sighing deeply as she did so, andFlorence, to her own infinite content, was left behind. 

The next few days passed without anything special occurring; then thenews of Mrs. Aylmer's extraordinary will was given to Florence in hermother's graphic language. 

"Although she is dead, poor thing, she certainly always was a monster, "wrote the widow. "I cannot explain to you what I feel. I have begged ofMr. Trevor to dispute the will; but, would you believe it?--unnaturalman that he is, he seems more pleased than otherwise. 

"My little money is still to the fore, but no one else seems to havebeen remembered. As to that poor dear Bertha Keys, she has not been lefta penny. If she had not saved two or three hundred pounds during thetime of her companionship to that heathenish woman, she would now bepenniless. It is a fearful blow, and I cannot think for which of oursins it has been inflicted on us. It is too terrible, and the wayMaurice Trevor takes it is the worst of all. "

When Florence read this letter, she could not help clapping her hands. 

"I cannot understand it, " she said to herself; "but a great load seemsto have rolled away from me. Of course, I never expected Aunt Susan'smoney, but mother has been harping upon it as long as I can remember. Idon't think Maurice wanted it greatly. It seemed to me that that moneybrought a curse with it. I wonder if things are going to be happier now. Oh, dear, I am glad--yes, I am glad that it has not been left to any ofus. "

Florence's feelings of rapture, however, were likely soon to bemitigated. Her wedding-day was approaching. 

Mrs. Aylmer the less, who had at first told Florence that she could noton any account marry for three or four months, owing to the sad death inthe family, wrote now to say that the sooner she secured Tom Franks thebetter. 

"Maurice Trevor is a pauper, " she said, "not worth any girl's seriousconsideration. Marry Mr. Franks, my dear Florence; he is not up to much, but doubtless he is the best you can get. You need not show the smallestrespect to Susan Aylmer; the wedding need not be put off a single houron her account. "

Nor did Flo nor Tom intend to postpone the wedding. Mrs. Aylmer had notbeen loved by Florence, and, as the couple were to be married quietly, there was not the least occasion why the ceremony should be delayed. Florence had not a trousseau, in the ordinary sense of the word. 

"I have no money, " she said, looking full at Edith. 

Tom Franks happened to come into the room at the time. 

"What are you talking about?" he said. "By the way, here is a letter foryou. "

As he spoke, he laid a letter on the table near Florence's side. Sheglanced at it, saw that it was in the handwriting of Bertha Keys, anddid not give it a further thought. 

"Flo is thinking about her trousseau; all brides require trousseaux, "said Edith, who, although unorthodox in most things, did not think itseemly that a bride should go to the altar without fine clothes. 

"But why should we worry about a trousseau?" replied Tom. "I takeFlorence for what she is, not for her dress; and I can give you thingsin Paris, " he added, looking at her. "I have some peculiar ideas, and myown notions with regard to your future dress. You want a good deal ofrich colour, and rich stuffs, and nothing too girlish. You are veryyoung, but you will look still younger if you are dressed somewhat old, as I mean to dress you. We will get your evening dress in Paris. I amnot a rich man, but I have saved up money for the purpose. "

"I don't really care about clothes at all, " said Florence. 

"I know that; but you will change your mind. With your particular style, you must be careful how you dress. I will manage it. Don't waste yourmoney on anything now. I want you to come to me as you are. "

Tom then sat down near Florence, and began to give her particulars withregard to several flats which he had looked over. He was a keen man ofbusiness, and talked £. _s. _ _d. _ until the girl was tired of thesubject. 

"I shall take the flat in Fortescue Mansions to-morrow morning, " he saidfinally; "it will just suit us. There is a very fine reception-room, and, what is still better, all the reception-rooms open one into theother. We must begin to give our weekly salons as soon as ever youreturn from your wedding tour, Florence. "

"Surely you will wait until people call on Florence?" interrupted Edith. "You are too quick, Tom, for anything. You must not transgress all theordinary rules of society. "

Tom looked at his sister, shut up his firm lips, and turned away; he didnot even vouchsafe to answer. 

A moment later, he left the room. It was his custom when he met Florenceto kiss her coldly on the forehead, and to repeat this ceremony when heleft her. He did not neglect this little attention on the presentoccasion. As his steps, in his patent-leather boots, were hearddescending the stairs, Edith saw Florence raise her handkerchief to herforehead and rub the spot which Tom's lips had touched. 

"How heartily you dislike him!" said Edith. "I would not marry him if Iwere you. "

Florence made no reply. She took up her letter and prepared to leave theroom. 

"Why do you go? There is a good fire here, and there is none in yourroom. Sit by the fire, and make yourself comfy. I am going out for alittle. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

BERTHA CHANGES HER TONE. 

Edith pinned on her hat as she spoke, and a moment later left the flat. Florence looked around her. She sank into an easy-chair, and opened theletter. It was, as she already knew, from Bertha. She began to read itlanguidly, but soon its contents caused her to start; her eyes grewbright with a strange mixture of fear, relief, and apprehension. Berthahad written as follows:--

 "MY DEAR FLORENCE--

 "You will doubtless, long ere this, have been told of the fearful blow which the late Mrs. Aylmer of Aylmer's Court has inflicted on us all. Kind as we have been to her, and faithfully as we have served her--I allude especially here to myself--we have been cut off without a farthing whereas two monstrous establishments have been left the benefit of her wealth. The clergyman, Mr. Edwards, is responsible for this act of what I call sacrilege. She made him write a will for her just after poor Mr. Wiltshire had departed. It is, I believe, quite in proper form, and there is not a loophole of escape. Mr. Edwards knew what he was about. Mrs. Aylmer gave her money, as she thought, back to God: a very queer way of doing charity--to leave those nearest to her to starve. 

 "However, my dear Florence, to come to the point, I, who have spent the last five years of my life absolutely devoted to this woman, serving her hand and foot, day and night, at all times and all seasons, have not even had a ten-pound note left to me for my pains. It is true that I shall receive my salary, which happens to be a very good one, up to the end of the present quarter. After that, as far as I am concerned, I might as well never have known Aylmer's Court nor its mistress. Fortunately I was able to feather my nest to a very small extent while with her, and have a few hundred pounds with which to face the world. 

 "Now, Florence, I hope you are somewhat prepared for what is about to follow. It is this: I shall be obliged in the future to use my talent for my own aggrandisement. I find that it is a very marketable commodity. A few months' use of it has placed you in great comfort; it has also brought you fame, and, further, a very excellent husband. What the said future husband will say when the _dénouement_ is revealed to him--as of course revealed it will be--is more than I can say. But you must face the fact that I can no longer supply you with stories or essays. I _myself_ will write my own stories, and send them _myself_ to the different papers, and the golden sovereigns, my dear, will roll into _my_ pocket, and not into _yours_. You will naturally say: 'How will you do this, and face the shame of your actions in the past?' But the fact is, I am not at all ashamed, nor do I mind confessing exactly what I have done. My talent is my own, and it is my opinion that the world will crowd after me all the more because I have done this daring thing, and you, my poor little understudy for the time being, will be my understudy no longer. I take the part of leading lady once for all _myself_. I am coming up to London to-morrow, and will call to see you, as, on consideration, I think that fourth story which you are preparing for the _Argonaut_ might as well appear with my name to it. 

 "Yours very sincerely, "BERTHA KEYS. "

Florence perused this letter two or three times; then she put it in herpocket and entered her bed-room. She did not quite know what she wasdoing. She felt a little giddy, but there was a queer, unaccountablesense of relief all over her. On her desk lay her own neat copy of thestory which she was preparing for the _Argonaut_. By the side of thedesk also was quite a pile of letters from different publishers offeringher work and good pay. These letters Tom Franks insisted on her eithertaking no notice of or merely writing to decline the advantageousoffers. She took them up now. 

"Messrs. So-and-so would be glad to see Miss Aylmer. They could offerher.... " And then came terms which would have made the mouths of mostgirls water. Or Florence received a letter asking her if she wouldundertake to write three or four stories for such a paper, the terms tobe what she herself liked to ask. She looked at them all wistfully. Itis true she had not yet lighted a fire in her room, but she put a matchto it now, in order to burn the publishers' letters. The story she wascopying was about half-done. She had meant to finish it from Bertha'smanuscript before she went out. She smiled to herself as she looked. 

"I need never finish it now, " she thought. 

Just as this thought came to her she heard a tap at her door. It was amessenger with a note. She told him to wait, and opened it. It was fromFranks. 

 "I quite forgot when I saw you an hour ago to ask you to let me have manuscript of the next story without fail this evening. Can you send it now by messenger, or shall he call again for it within a couple of hours? This is urgent. 

 "THOMAS FRANKS. "

Florence sat down and wrote a brief reply. 

 "I am very sorry, but you cannot have manuscript to-night. 

 "FLORENCE AYLMER. "

The messenger departed with this note, and Florence dressed herself togo out, and she went quickly downstairs. She walked until she saw thespecial omnibus which she was looking for. She was taken straight toHampstead, and she walked up the steep hill until she found the littlecottage which she had visited months ago in the late summer-time. Florence went to the door, and a neat servant with an apple-blossom faceopened it. 

"Is Mrs. Trevor in?" asked Florence. 

"Yes, miss; what name shall I say?"

Florence gave her name: "Miss Florence Aylmer. "

She was immediately ushered into the snug drawing-room, bright withfirelight. She shut her eyes, and a feeling of pain went through herheart. 

"The way of transgressors is very, very hard, " she thought. "Shall Iever keep straight? What a miserable character I must be!"

Just then Mrs. Trevor entered the room. She had not been pleased withFlorence; she had not been pleased with her manner to her son. Mothersguess things quickly, and she had guessed Maurice's secret many monthsago. 

Florence held out her hand wistfully, and looked full at the littlewidow. 

"I have come to speak to you, " she said. "I want to know if youwill"--her lips trembled--"advise me. "

"Sit down, my dear, " said Mrs. Trevor. She motioned Florence to a seat, but the girl did not take it. 

"I have come to you, as the only one in all the world who can help me, "continued Florence. "I have something very terrible to say, and Ithought perhaps you would listen, and perhaps you would advise. May Ispeak to you just because I am a very lonely girl and you are a woman?"

"If you put it in that way, of course you may speak, " said Mrs. Trevor. "To tell you the truth, I have been displeased with you; I have thoughtthat you have not been fair. "

"To whom?" asked Florence. 

"To my son Maurice. "

Florence coloured; then she put her hand to her heart. 

"You never replied to my letter, Mrs. Trevor. "

"What was there to say?"

"Will you tell me now what you thought of it?"

Mrs. Trevor had seated herself by the fire. She held out her small handsto the grateful blaze; then she looked round at the girl. 

"Sit down, child, " she said; "take off your hat. If you wish to knowwhat I really thought, I imagined that you were a little hysterical andthat you had overstated things. Girls of your age are apt to do so. Iwas very sorry, for Maurice's sake, that you did not accept my offer;but otherwise I prefer to be alone. "

"I see. Well, I must tell you now that I did not exaggerate. I have beenbad through and through: quite unworthy of your attention and care:quite unworthy of Mr. Maurice's regard. "

"That is extremely likely, " said the mother of Mr. Maurice, drawingherself up in a stately fashion. 

"Oh, don't be unkind to me; do bear with me while I tell you. AfterwardsI shall go away somewhere, but I must relieve my soul. Oh, it is sosinful!"

"Speak, child, speak. Who am I that I should turn away from you?"

"Years ago, " began Florence, speaking in a dreary tone, "I was at aschool called Cherry Court School. While there I was assailed by a verygreat temptation. The patron of the school, Sir John Wallis, offered aprize on certain conditions to the girls. The prize meant a great deal, and covered a wide curriculum. 

"It was a great opportunity, and I struggled hard to win; but Sir JohnWallis, although he offered the prize to the school, in reality wanted agirl called Kitty Sharston, who was the daughter of his old friend, toget it. 

"Kitty Sharston was supposed to be most likely to win the prize, and shedid win it in the end; but let me tell you how. In the school was a girlas pupil teacher, whose name was Bertha Keys. "

"What!" cried Mrs. Trevor: "the girl who has been companion to Mrs. Aylmer: whom my son has so often mentioned?"

"The very same girl. Oh, I don't want to abuse her too much, and yet Icannot tell my terrible story without mentioning her. She tempted me;she was very clever, and she tempted me mightily. She wrote the essayfor me, the prize essay which was hers, not mine. Oh, I know you areshocked, I feel your hand trembling; but let me hold it; don't draw itaway. She wrote the essay, and it was read aloud before all the guestsand all the other girls as mine, and I won the Scholarship; yes, I wonit through the essay written by Bertha Keys. "

"That was very terrible, my dear. How could you bear it? How could you?"

"I went to London. You remember how I came to see you. I had very littlemoney, just twenty pounds, and mother, who had only fifty pounds a year, could not help me, and I was so wretched that I did not know what to do. I went from one place to another offering myself as teacher, although Ihated teaching and I could not teach well; but no one wanted me, and Iwas in despair, and I used to get so desperately _hungry_ too. Oh, youcannot tell what it is to want a meal--just to have a good dinner, say, once a week, and bread-and-butter all the rest of the days. Oh, you dofeel so empty when you live on bread-and-butter and nothing else! Then Ihad a letter from Bertha, and she made me a proposal. She sent with theletter a manuscript. Ah! I feel you start now. "

"This is terrible!" said Mrs. Trevor. She stood up in her excitement;she backed a little way from Florence. 

"You guess all, but I must go on telling you, " continued the poor girl. "She sent this manuscript, and she asked me to use it as my own. Shesaid she did not want any of the money, and she spoke specious words, and I was tempted. But I struggled, I did struggle. It was Miss Frankswho really was the innocent cause of pushing me over the gulf, for sheread the manuscript and said it was very clever, and she showed it toher brother, the man I am now engaged to, and he said it was clever, andit was accepted for the _Argonaut_ almost before I knew what I wasdoing; and that was the beginning of everything. I was famous. Berthawas the person who wrote the stories and the essays. I was wearingborrowed plumes, and I was not a bit clever; and, oh, Mrs. Trevor, theend has come now, for Mrs. Aylmer has died and has left all her greatwealth to the hospitals, and I have had a letter from Bertha. You mayread it, Mrs. Trevor: do read it. This Is what Bertha says. "

As Florence spoke, she thrust Bertha's letter into Mrs. Trevor's hand. 

"I will ring for a light, " said the widow. She approached the bell, rangit, and the little rosy-faced servant appeared. 

"Tea, Mary, at once for two, and some hot cakes, and bring a lamp, please. 

"I am glad and I am sorry you have told me, " she said. "I will read theletter when the lamp comes. Now warm yourself. 

"You poor girl, " she said. "I will not touch this letter until I see youlooking better. 

"I will read this in another room, " she said; "you would like to bealone for a little. "

She left the room softly with Bertha's letter, and Florence still sat onby the fire. She sat so for some time, and presently, soothed by thewarmth, and weary from all the agony she had undergone, the tired-outgirl dropped asleep. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

"ALL THE ROSES ARE DEAD. "

When she awoke she heard someone moving in the room. There was therustling of a paper and the creak of a chair. 

"Oh, Mrs. Trevor, have I told you everything?" she said, and she sprangto her feet, the color suffusing her cheeks and her eyes growing bright. "And are you going to send me out into the cold? Are you never going tospeak to me again? Are you going to forsake me?"

"No, no; sit down, " said a voice, and then Florence did indeed colorpainfully, for Mrs. Trevor was not in the room, but Maurice Trevor stoodbefore the excited girl. 

"My mother has told me the whole story, " he said. 

He looked perturbed, his voice shook with emotion, and his face waspale, and there was an angry scowl in his eyes. He took Florence's handand pushed her into a chair. 

"Sit down, " he said. She looked up at him drearily. 

"All the roses are dead, " she said softly; "the time of roses is over. "

"No, it is not over; it will come back again at the proper season, " saidTrevor; "and don't think that I--"

"But do you know--"

"I know, " he answered gravely. He bowed his head; then he drew a chairforward. 

"I must speak to you, " he said. 

"You know everything?" she repeated. 

"I do, " he said. "I am glad you came to mother and told her. It is trueI suspected much. You know that passage in Miss Keys's handwriting whichI told you about some time ago, and the identically same passage in thenewspaper article which was supposed to be yours?--to a great extent myeyes were opened at that time, but not completely. "

"You look very, very angry, " she said. 

"I am angry, " he answered; "but, I think I can say with truth, not withyou. "

"With Bertha?"

"Please do not mention her name. "

"But I have been to blame: I have been terribly weak. "

"You have been terribly weak; you have been worse. You have done wrong, great wrong; but, Florence--may I call you by your Christianname?--winter comes in every year, but it is followed by spring, andspring is followed by summer, and in summer the roses bloom again, andthe time of roses comes back, Florence, and it will come back even toyou. "

"No, no, " she said, and she began to sob piteously. 

"You have been so good, so more than good to me, " she said. "If you hadknown you would have despised me. "

"If I had known I should have gone straight to Miss Keys and put a stopto this disgraceful thing, " was the young man's answer. "I suppose, Florence, " he added, after a pause, "you, if you have time to think ofme at all, pity me now because I am a penniless man. "

"Oh, no, no, " she replied; "it is not good for people to be too rich. Ihave quite come to be of that opinion. "

"Thank God, then, we are both of one way of thinking because God, thoughHe has not given you this special talent, has given you much. "

"Much, " she repeated, vaguely. 

"Yes, " he repeated, speaking earnestly: "He has given youattractiveness, great earnestness of purpose, and oh! a thousand otherthings. He has at least done this for you, Florence: He has made you sothat in all the wide world you are the only woman for me. I can love noone but you, Florence--no one else--no one else, even though you didfall. "

"You cannot: it is impossible, " answered Florence. "You cannot love menow. "

"I have loved you all through, and this thing does not alter my love. You see, Florence, " he added, "it was not the girl who was famous that Icared for. I never did care a bit about the wonderful writing which wassupposed to be yours. Far from liking it, I hated it. I never wanted awife who would be either famous or clever. "

"And Tom Franks, " continued Florence, "only wants me because he thinksme clever. But he will not wish to marry me now. "

"I only wanted you for yourself. Will you wait for me and let me try tomake a home for you, and when I have done that, will you come to me? Iam going away to Australia; I have heard of a good post there, and I amgoing out almost at once, and if things succeed, you and the mother cancome to me, and in the meantime will you stay with her and comfort her?"

"Oh, you are too good, " said poor Florence; but she did not cry now. Sheclasped her hands and gazed straight into the fire; then she looked upat Trevor with awe. 

"God must have forgiven me when He sent you to me, " she said simply. 

The next moment he had clasped her in his arms. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

A DENOUEMENT. 

Tom Franks was seated before his desk in his office. He was a good dealperturbed. His calm was for the time being destroyed, although it wantedbut a week to his wedding-day. He did not look at all like a happybride-groom. 

"It is a case of jilting, " he said to himself, and he took up a letterwhich he had received from Florence that morning. It was very short andran as follows:

 "I cannot marry you, and you will soon know why. When you know the reason you won't want me. I am terribly sorry, but sorrow won't alter matters. Please do not expect the manuscript. Yours truly, "FLORENCE AYLMER. "

"What does the girl mean?" he said to himself. "Really, at the presentmoment, the most annoying part of all is the fact that I have notreceived the manuscript. The printers are waiting for it. The new numberof the _Argonaut_ will be nothing without it. The story was advertisedin the last number, and all our readers will expect it. "

A clerk came in at that moment. 

"Has Miss Aylmer's manuscript come, sir?" he said. "The printers arewaiting for it. "

"The printers must wait, Dawson; I shall be going to see Miss Aylmer andwill bring the manuscript back. Here, hand me a telegram form. I want tosend a wire in a hurry. "

The clerk did so. Franks dictated a few words aloud: "Will call to seeyou at twelve o'clock. Please remain in. "

He gave the man Florence's address, and he departed with the telegram. Franks looked up at the clock. 

He thought for a little longer. Anderson opened the door of his room andcalled him. 

"Is that you, Franks?"

"Yes, sir. "

"May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Certainly, " replied Franks. He went into his chief's room and shut thedoor. 

"I have been thinking, Franks, " said Mr. Anderson, "whether we do wellto encourage that extremely pessimistic writing which Miss FlorenceAylmer supplies us with. "

"Do well to encourage it?" said Franks, opening his eyes very wide. 

"I have hesitated to speak to you, " continued Mr. Anderson, "because youare engaged to the young lady, and you naturally, and very justly, areproud of her abilities; but the strain in which she addresses her publicis beginning to be noticed, and although her talent attracts, hermorbidity and want of all hope will in the end tell against the_Argonaut_, and even still more against the _General Review_. I wish youwould have a serious talk with her, Franks, and tell her that unless shealters the tone of her writings--my dear fellow, I am sorry to pain you, but really I cannot accept them. "

Franks uttered a bitter laugh. 

"You are very likely to have your wish, sir, " he said. "I am even nowwriting for the manuscript for the fourth story which you know wasadvertised in the last _Argonaut_. "

"I believe she will always write according to her convictions. "

"And that is what pains me so much, " continued Mr. Anderson. "I havemyself looked over her proofs, and have endeavoured to infuse a cheerfulnote into them; but cutting won't do it, nor will removing certainpassages. The same miserable, unnatural outlook pervades every word shesays. I believe her mind is made that way. "

"You are not very complimentary, " said Franks, almost losing his temper. He was quiet for a moment, then he said slowly: "We are very likely tohave to do without Miss Aylmer. I begin to think that she is a verystrange girl. She has offered to release me from my engagement; in fact, she has declared that she will not go on with it, and says that shecannot furnish us with any more manuscripts. "

"Then, in the name of Heaven, what are we to do for the next number?"said Mr. Anderson. "Look through all available manuscripts at once, mydear fellow; there is not a moment to lose. "

"I'll do better than that, " replied Franks. "Our public expect a storyby Miss Aylmer in the next number, and if possible they must have it. Ihave already wired to say that I will call upon her, and with yourpermission, as the time is nearly up, I will go to Prince's Mansionsnow. "

"It may be best, " said Mr. Anderson. He looked gloomy and anxious. "Youcan cut the new story a bit cannot you, Franks?"

"I will do my best, sir. "

The young man went out of the room. He was just crossing his ownapartment when the door was opened and his clerk came in. 

"A lady to see you, sir: she says her business is pressing. "

"A lady to see me! Say I am going out. I cannot see anyone at present. Who is she? Has she come by appointment?"

"She has not come by appointment, sir; her name is Miss Keys--MissBertha Keys. "

"I never heard of her. Say that I am obliged to go out and cannot seeher to-day; ask her to call another time. Leave me now, Dawson; I wantto keep my appointment with Miss Aylmer. "

Dawson left the room. 

He then crossed the room to the peg where he kept his coat and hat, andwas preparing to put them on when once again Dawson appeared. 

"Miss Keys says she has come about Miss Aylmer's business, and shethinks you will not lose any time if you see her, sir. "

Bertha Keys had quietly entered the apartment behind the clerk. 

"I have come on the subject of Florence Aylmer and the manuscript youexpect her to send you, " said Bertha Keys. "Will you give me two orthree moments of your valuable time?"

Dawson glanced at Franks. Franks nodded to him to withdraw, and the nextmoment Miss Keys and Mr. Franks found themselves alone. 

Franks did not speak at all for a moment. Bertha in the meantime wastaking his measure. 

"May I sit down?" she said. "I am a little tired; I have come all theway from Shropshire this morning. "

Franks pushed a chair towards her, but still did not speak. She lookedat him, and a faint smile dawned round her lips. 

"You are expecting Florence Aylmer's manuscript, are you not?" she saidthen. 

He nodded, but his manner was as much as to say: "What business is it ofyours?"

He was magnetized by the curious expression in her eyes; he thought hehad never seen such clever eyes before. He was beginning to beinterested in her. 

"I have come about Florence's manuscript; but, all the same, youbitterly resent my intrusion. By the way, you are engaged to marryFlorence Aylmer?"

"I was, " replied Franks shortly; "but pardon me. I am extremely busy: ifshe has chosen you as her messenger to bring the manuscript, will youkindly give it to me and go?"

"How polite!" said Bertha, with a smile. "I have not brought anymanuscript from Florence Aylmer; but I have brought a manuscript frommyself. "

Franks uttered an angry exclamation. 

"Have you forced your way into my room about that?" he said. 

"I have. You have received and published three stories _purporting_ tobe by the pen of Florence Aylmer. You have also published one or twoarticles by the same person. You are waiting for the fourth story, whichwas promised to the readers of the _Argonaut_ in last month's number. The first three stories made a great sensation. You are impatient anddisturbed because the fourth story has not come to hand. Here it is. "

Bertha hastily opened a small packet which she held in her hand andproduced a manuscript. 

"Look at it, " she said; "read the opening sentence. I am not in theslightest hurry; take your own time, but read, if you will, the firstpage. If the style is not the style of the old stories, if the matter isnot equal in merit to the stories already published, then I will own toyou that I came here on a false errand and will ask you to forgive me. "

Franks, with still that strange sense of being mesmerized, received themanuscript from Bertha's long slim hand. He sank into his office chairand listlessly turned the pages. 

He read a sentence or two and then looked up at the clock. 

"I have wired to Miss Aylmer to expect me at twelve: it is past thathour now. I really must ask you to pardon me. "

"Miss Aylmer will not be in. Miss Aylmer has left Prince's Mansions. Ihappened to call there and know what I am saying. Will you go onreading? You want your story. I believe your printers are waiting for iteven now. "

Franks fidgeted impatiently. Once again his eyes lit upon the page. Ashe read, Bertha's own eyes devoured his face. She knew each word of thatfirst page. She had taken special and extra pains with it; itrepresented her best, her very best; it was strong, perfect in style, and her treatment of her subject was original; there was a note ofpassion and pathos, there was a deep undercurrent of human feeling inher words. Franks read to the end. 

If he turned the page Bertha felt that her victory would be won--if heclosed the manuscript she had still to fight her battle. Her heart beatquickly. She wondered what the Fates had in store for her. 

Franks at last came to the final word; he hesitated, half looked up, then his fingers trembled. He turned the page. Bertha saw by the look onhis face that he had absolutely forgotten her. She gave a brief sigh:the time of tension was over, the victory was won. She rose andapproached him. 

"I can take that to another house, " she said. 

"No, no, " said Franks; "there is stuff in this. It is quite up to theusual mark. So Florence gave it to you to bring to me. Now, you know, Ido not quite like the tone nor does my chief; but the talent isunmistakable. "

"You will publish it, then?"

"Certainly. I see it is the usual length. If you will pardon me, asthings are pressing, I will ring and give this to the printers. "

"One moment first. You think that manuscript has been written byFlorence Aylmer?"

"Why not? Of course it has!" He looked uneasily from the paper in hishand to the girl who stood before him. "What do you mean?"

"I have something to tell you. You may be angry with me, but I do notmuch care. _I_ possess the genius, not Florence Aylmer; _I_ am thewriter of that story. Florence Aylmer wrote one thing for you, aschoolgirl essay, which you returned. I wrote the papers which thepublic liked; _I_ wrote the stories which the public devoured. I am thewoman of genius; I am the ghost behind Florence Aylmer; I am the realauthor. You can give up the false: the real has come to you at last. "

"You must be telling me an untruth, " said Franks. He staggered back, hisface became green, his eyes flashed angrily. 

"I am telling you the truth; you have but to ask Florence herself. Hasshe not broken off her engagement with you?"

"She has, and a good thing, too, " he muttered under his breath. 

"Ah! I heard those words, though you said them so low, and it is a goodthing for you. You would never have been happy with a girl likeFlorence. I know her well. I don't pretend that I played a very nicepart; but still I am not ashamed. I want money now; I did not want moneywhen I offered my productions to Florence. I hoped that I should be avery rich woman. My hopes have fallen to the ground; therefore I takeback that talent with which Nature has endowed me. You can give _me_orders for the _Argonaut_ in the future. You will kindly pay _me_ forthat story. Now I think I have said what I meant to say, and I wish yougood-morning. "

"But you must stay a moment, Miss--I really forget your name. "

"My name is Keys--Bertha Keys. Other well-known magazines will pay mefor all I can write for them; but I am willing to give you the _whole_of my writings, say for three months, if you are willing to pay meaccording to my own ideas. "

"What are those?"

"You must double your pay to me. You can, if you like, publish thislittle story about Florence and myself in some of your society gossip--Ido not mind at all--or you can keep it quiet. You have but to say inone of your issues that the _nom de plume_ under which your talentedauthor wrote is, for reasons of her own, changed. You can give me afresh title. The world will suspect mystery and run after me more thanever. I think that is the principal thing I have to say to you. Now, mayI wish you good-morning?"

Bertha rose as she spoke, dropped a light mocking curtsey in Franks'sdirection, and let herself out of the room before he had time to realizethat she was leaving. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

FINIS. 

It is, alas! true in this world that often the machinations of thewicked prosper. By all the laws of morality Bertha Keys ought to havecome to condign punishment; she ought to have gone under; she ought tohave disappeared from society; she ought to have been hooted anddisliked wherever she showed her face. 

These things were by no means the case, however. Bertha, playing adaring game, once more achieved success. 

By means of threatening to take her work elsewhere she secured admirableterms for her writing--quite double those which had been given to poorFlorence. She lived in the best rooms in Prince's Mansions, and before ayear had quite expired she was engaged to Tom Franks. He married her, and report whispers that they are by no means a contented couple. It isknown that Franks is cowed, and at home at least obeys his wife. Bertharules with a rod of iron; but perhaps she is not happy, and perhaps hertrue punishment for her misdeeds has begun long ago. 

Meanwhile Florence, released from the dread of discovery, her conscienceonce more relieved from its burden of misery, bloomed out intohappiness, and also into success. 

Florence wrote weekly to Trevor, and Trevor wrote to her, and his lovefor her grew as the days and weeks went by. The couple had to wait sometime before they could really marry, but during that time Florencelearned some of the best lessons in life. She was soon able to supportherself, for she turned out, contrary to her expectations, a veryexcellent teacher. She avoided Tom Franks and his wife, and could notbear to hear the name of the _Argonaut_ mentioned. For a time, indeed, she took a dislike to all magazines, and only read the special bookswhich Mrs. Trevor indicated. 

Kitty Sharston was also her best friend during this time of humiliationand training, and when the hour at last arrived when she was to joinTrevor, Kitty said to her father that she scarcely knew her old friend, so courageous was the light that shone in Florence's eyes, and so happyand beaming was her smile. 

"I have gone down into the depths, " she said to Kitty, on the day whenshe sailed for Australia; "it is a very good thing sometimes to seeone's self just down to the very bottom. I have done that, and oh! Ihope, I do hope that I shall not fall again. "

As to Mrs. Trevor, she also had a last word with Kitty. 

"There was a time, my dear, " she said, "when knowing all that hadhappened in the past, I was rather nervous as to what kind of wife mydear son would have in Florence Aylmer, but she is indeed now a daughterafter my own heart--brave, steadfast, earnest. "

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