Part 23 (1/2)

Trevor was on the point of asking ”What?” but there was an expression in Florence's face which stayed the word on his lips. She had turned white again, and the tired, drawn expression had come to her eyes.

”You must come home now and have lunch,” he said; ”afterwards I will take you for another walk, and show you some fresh beauties.”

They rose slowly and went back to the house. Lunch was waiting for them, and during the meal Mrs. Trevor and Maurice talked on many things which delighted and interested Florence immensely. They were both highly intelligent, had a pa.s.sionate love for horticulture, and also were well read on many other subjects. Florence found some of her school knowledge now 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 ideas are--”

”You must not say anything against Edith Franks, mother,” exclaimed her son. ”For my part, I think she is very plucky. I have no doubt,” he added, ”that women doctors can do very good work.”

”She is much too learned for me, that is all,” replied Mrs. Trevor; ”but I hear she is to undergo her examinations in America. I trust the day will never come when it will be easy for a woman to obtain her medical degree in this country. It is horrible to think of anything so unfeminine.”

”I do not think Edith Franks is unfeminine,” said Florence. ”She has been 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, earnest glance.

”I do wish, mother,” he said suddenly, ”that you could arrange to have Miss Aylmer living with you.”

”Oh, my dear, it would be much too far, and I know she would not like it. 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, of course, 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 through Mrs. Trevor's mind: ”The girl is hiding a secret; she has a sorrow: what is 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. The day, which had been so sunny and bright in the morning, was now slightly overcast, and they had not walked half a mile before rain overtook them.

They had quite forgotten to provide themselves with umbrellas, and Florence's thin dress was in danger of becoming wet through.

As they walked quickly back now, they were overtaken by a man who said to Florence: ”I beg your pardon, but may I offer you this umbrella?”

Before she could reply, the stranger looked at Trevor and uttered an exclamation.

”Why, Tom!” cried Trevor. He shook hands heartily with him, and introduced him to Florence: ”Mr. Franks--Miss Aylmer.”

”Aylmer?” said the young man; ”are you called Florence Aylmer?” He looked 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 dumb entreaty. Trevor gazed at her in astonishment.