Meanwhile Trevor went slowly back
to the hotel. He had enjoyed his talk with Florence;
he liked her brusque way, she did not flatter him,
and she was, he considered, a particularly attractive-looking
girl. In Mrs. Aylmer’s society he was made
a great deal of and fussed over, and when that happens
to a young man he always enjoys the sort of girl who
snubs him by way of contrast. He thought Mrs.
Aylmer the less one of the most extraordinary women
he had ever met; but as he liked Florence, and was
in the mood for a bit of an adventure, he would gladly
have accepted her mother’s invitation to supper
if she had not tabooed it.
“You are not to come,”
said Florence, looking at him with her wide-open frank
dark eyes; “mother is the soul of hospitality,
but we are very poor: we have nothing proper
to give you for supper, and I for one would much rather
you did not come.”
“I do not in the least mind
what I eat,” he said, in a somewhat pleading
tone, and he looked full at Florence with his blue
eyes.
“Nevertheless, you are not to
come; it is only my mother’s way: she always
goes on like that with strangers. I never allow
people to accept her invitations.”
After this there was nothing more
to be said, and Florence and Trevor bade each other
a very friendly good-bye.
When Trevor reached the “Crown
and Garter” he found that Mrs. Aylmer and Miss
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 he came 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,” he continued. “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 another young lady who is
staying with them. By the way, they are your
relations, so the little lady told me, and she was
very hospitable, and invited me to supper, and I should
have been very glad to go if the young lady had not
told me that I must not accept her mother’s
invitation.”
Now, these remarks were anything but
agreeable to Mrs. Aylmer, and still less did they
suit Bertha Keys. Neither lady said anything,
however, at the 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,” she said.
“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. I will
tell you about her another time. It is quite contrary
to my wishes that you should have anything to do with
her: you understand?”
Trevor flushed. He had a way
of looking annoyed at times, and he looked annoyed
now. His silken chains sometimes fretted him a
great deal. He often wondered whether he had
done right in allowing himself to become Mrs. 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 the balcony.
“Shall we go out on the sands?”
she said. “I have something I want to say
to you.”
“But Mrs. Aylmer has something
to say to me also something about that
particularly nice girl, Miss Florence Aylmer.”
“She will not say it to you
to-night; she has a headache, and I persuaded 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 about
anyone, and I took to her frank ways. She looks
like the sort of girl who will never deceive you.”
Bertha gave a peculiar smile, which
vanished almost as soon as it visited her face.
“Shall we meet, say, in twenty
minutes,” she said, “just by the pier?
I must 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 soothe his somewhat ruffled
feelings. He had never liked Mrs. Aylmer less
than he did at that moment.
“It is horrid when a woman runs
down a girl,” he said to himself; “such
bad form, and, as to this girl, it is impossible Mrs.
Aylmer can know anything against her.”
Presently he looked at his watch,
and prepared to keep his appointment with Bertha.
He liked Bertha Keys very much; she was always jolly
and good-tempered, and she often tried to smooth over
matters when there was any little difference between
himself and Mrs. Aylmer. When he reached the
pier he found her waiting for him. It was a moonlight
night, and the young 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 and
faced her. “I often feel that I cannot stand
this sort of thing much longer: it is like being
in chains. I would much rather talk the matter
out with Mrs. Aylmer, tell her I am very much obliged
to her for her kind intentions with regard to me,
but that I would sooner carve out my own 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. I never
felt more annoyed than when she spoke to me as she
did this evening. It is horrid when a woman abuses
a girl such bad taste.”
“You know how peculiar she is,”
said Bertha; “but you suit her better than anyone
I know. You want her to give you money to allow
you to live in town. I am sure I can manage it.
I quite understand that you must hate being tied to
her apron-strings.”
“It is detestable,” said
the young man; “and if it were not for my own
mother, who seems so happy about me, and so grateful
to Mrs. Aylmer, I should break with her to-morrow.”
“I quite sympathise with you,”
said Bertha. “You must have money, and
you must go to town. You want to read for the
Bar: I will see that it is arranged. Mrs.
Aylmer is rich, but not rich enough for you to live
all your 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’s
niece?”
“She is her niece by marriage.
Mrs. Aylmer’s husband was Florence Aylmer’s
uncle.”
“Then in the name of all that
is just,” cried Trevor impetuously, “why
should 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 a false 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 cannot tell 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,
but Miss 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 for particulars. I want you to
be most careful; that is why I have brought you out
here to-night. I want you to be most careful to
avoid the subject with Mrs. Aylmer. Florence
offended her, and she has resolved never to see her
and never to speak to her again. She is annoyed
at your having made her acquaintance, and I doubt
not we shall leave Dawlish to-morrow on that account.
Be satisfied that Florence only did what perhaps another
girl equally tempted would have done, but it was ”
“It was what? The worst
thing you can do is to throw out innuendoes about
a girl. What did she do?”
“She was not quite straight,
if you must know not quite straight about
a 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 not looking
at her at that moment. “Ah, yes, poor girl:
that is how I happen to know all about it. It
was hushed up at the time, and of course Florence
has quite retrieved her character. It was nothing
whatever but what a girl tempted as she was would
do, but it settled her as far as Mrs. Aylmer was concerned,
and if you do not wish to bring fresh trouble upon
the niece you will avoid the subject with her aunt.
That is what I wished 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 to tell me.”
“I have been thinking of that,”
said Bertha; “the very best thing you can 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 sudden news of your
mother: that she wants to see you; or you can
leave her a note to that effect.”
“But it would not be true.”
Trevor darted a keen glance at his companion.
Bertha coloured again.
“It is difficult to manage with
people who are as quixotically straight as you are,”
she said, after a pause; “I want you to keep
away for your own sake. If what I have suggested
does not please you, think of something else.”
“I will tell her that I wish
for a change: that is true enough,” he
answered; “but how will that help me? When
I come back, she will tell me the 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 be better
for your peace of mind not to hear it: that is
all. I have said that it was a little shady:
that it happened years ago: that Florence has
quite retrieved her character.”
Trevor stamped his foot impatiently.
“I will not go away to-morrow,”
he said, after a pause. “I should like
to see Miss Florence Aylmer again. I will ask
her to tell me frankly what 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 is perfectly
honest. She can excuse herself if necessary.
Anyhow, she shall have the chance of telling her own
story in her own way.”