Part 40 (1/2)
”How are they all at Aylmer's Court?” she asked.
”When I left yesterday morning they were well,” he replied. ”Did you know 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 expected of him by Mrs. Aylmer with regard to Kitty, the bronze on his cheeks deepened.
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 be surprised; I ought to be glad,” she thought. But she knew very well that she was not glad, and she vaguely wondered why.
”I have come with a message from my mother,” said Trevor, who was watching her while her eyes were travelling towards the fire. He was thinking how ill and worn she looked, and his heart was full of pity as well as love, but he would not speak yet. He must wait; he must be sure of her feelings before he committed himself.
”I have come with a message from my mother,” he repeated. ”I want you to come back with me now. You enjoyed your last day at the cottage: it was summer 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 looked longingly out of the window as she spoke. ”No,” she repeated; ”I cannot.”
”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 it to the editor of the _Argonaut_; he is waiting.”
”Do you know, I have only read one of your stories, the first which appeared 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. Of course I saw that it was--”
”Don't say again that it was clever. I don't wish to hear anything about it. I cannot come with you to-day. I have to do some copying.”
”Why do you say copying?”
”Because I always copy the ma.n.u.scripts faithfully before Mr. Franks has them 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 own vehemence.
Trevor rose, a look of annoyance on his face.
”I am sorry you should think of my offer of help in that spirit,” he said; ”you don't quite understand: perhaps some day I may be able to make things plain to you. I take a great, a very great interest in you.
You have brought--”
”What?” said Florence.