Part 8 (1/2)
”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 ap.r.o.n-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.”