Part 3 (2/2)
”And Mr.--Mr. Trevor?” said Florence, in a trembling voice.
”Oh, he fits me too. He is a very good fellow, very nice indeed. He thinks I am quite an angel; he admires my talent, as he calls it. I believe he would be very sad if I were not there; he is much more likely to go than I am. Yes, Florence, you did well for me when you lost that Scholars.h.i.+p. I thought I would tell you.”
”Oh! oh!” said Florence, trembling and turning pale; ”but if Aunt Susan knew! If she knew!”
”Yes, if she knew,” said Bertha, ”but she does not know, and of course you 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. I can hoodwink her; I can turn her against your mother; I can make her more bitterly opposed to you. Now you have to understand. I have long felt that I must come to an understanding with you. You must keep silence. If you speak you will do very little good, but it is possible you may give me an uncomfortable half-hour. Now, I don't care to have an uncomfortable half-hour, and, above all things, I don't want Mr. Trevor set 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 comfortable where 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 for yourself; but if, on the other hand, you respect my secret, I can make things perhaps a shade more comfortable for you.”
”Oh, oh, Bertha, no,” said poor Florence. She covered her face--her cheeks were crimson. ”I hate you! I can never be your friend. Why did you come here?”
”I came on purpose. I have not lost sight of you. You know something about me which I do not want the world to know. You could make things uncomfortable 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 my suggestion. We will leave again the day after to-morrow; but not--not until you have made me a promise.”
CHAPTER IV.
AN EVIL GENIUS.
After Bertha said the last words, Florence was quite silent. Bertha turned and looked at her; then, satisfied with what she saw or fancied she saw in her face, she turned aside again, giving a faint sigh as she did so.
”It was a narrow shave,” she said to herself; ”this had to be. If she took it in one way all was lost; but she won't take it in that dreadful way: she will protect me for her own sake. The girl who could stoop to deceit, who could use my a.s.sistance to gain her own ends six years ago, is not immaculate now. I can use her in the future; she will be extremely useful in many ways, and my secret is absolutely safe.”
So Bertha leant back against the bench, crossed one prettily-shod foot over the other, and looked out across the summer sea. Presently Florence spoke 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, almost heart-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 the past, goodness knows it is dead and buried deep enough unless you choose to dig it out of its grave. Leave it alone, Florence, and come to terms with me. Now, for goodness' sake stop crying!”
”I won't tell of you just at present,” said Florence; ”that is the only thing I can say now.” Once more she rose.
”You had Kitty Sharston with you this morning,” continued Bertha. ”She recognised me too, did she not?”
”Yes, we both recognised you.”
<script>