The Time of Roses

CHAPTER XXIII.

BERTHA'S JOY

Bertha Keys found herself in a state of pleasurable excitement. She was in the highest spirits.

Mrs. Aylmer, as she watched her flit about the room, and listened to her gay conversation, and observed her animated face, said to herself: "A more charming companion could not fall to the lot of any woman. Now what is the matter, Bertha?" she said. "Your face quite amuses me; you burst out into little ripples of laughter at the smallest provocation. That dress is extremely becoming; it is a pleasure to see you. What is it, my dear? Have you heard any specially good news?"

"I have heard this news, and I think we ought both to be very happy," said Bertha. "Mr. Trevor comes home this evening; he will be with us to dinner."

Mrs. Aylmer gave her companion a keen, searching glance.

"Miss Keys," she said slowly.

"Yes," said Bertha, pausing and laying her hand lightly on a little table near; "do you want me to do anything?"

"Nothing in especial: you are always doing things for me. You are a good girl and a valuable secretary to me; you suit me to perfection. Now, my dear, I have no wish to part with you."

"To part with me?" said Bertha. She looked startled and raised her curious greeny-grey eyes with a new expression in them.

"To part with you, Bertha; but if you set your heart on Mr. Maurice Trevor you and I must part."

"What does this mean? Do you want to insult me?"

"No, my dear, by no means; but girls will be girls. How old are you, Miss Keys?"

"I am seven-and-twenty."

"And Maurice is three-and-twenty," said Mrs. Aylmer. "He is four years your junior; but that in affairs of the heart, I am afraid, does not matter much. You like him, I can see. My dear Miss Keys, the moment I see my adopted son paying you the slightest attention you must leave here. I daresay he never will pay you that kind of attention, and probably it is all right; but a word to the wise is enough, eh?"

"Quite enough," said Bertha; "you are a little unkind, my dear friend, to speak to me in that tone, and when I was so happy too. Believe me, I have not the slightest intention of marrying anyone. I have seen too much trouble in married life to care to cast in my lot with the married folks. I shall live with you as your companion as long as you want me. May I not like Mr. Trevor, and be a sort of sister to him?"

"Certainly, only don't be too sisterly or too friendly; do not ask for his confidence; do not think too much about him. He is a charming fellow, but he is not intended for you. My heir must marry as I please, and I am already looking out for a wife for him."

"Indeed; how very interesting!"

"There is a young girl I happen to know, who lives not far from here. She is extremely handsome, and will have a great deal of money. I mean to invite her to Aylmer's Court next week. Now you, Miss Keys, can do a great deal to promote a friendly feeling between the young people; but I will tell you more of this to-morrow."

"Thank you," replied Bertha. "I wonder," she continued, "who the girl is."

"That, my dear, I will tell you by-and-by. At present you are to know nothing about it."

The sound of wheels was now heard on the gravel and Bertha ran downstairs.

"Poor dear Mrs. Aylmer," she said to herself; "it is easy to blind her after all. I do not at all know at present whether I want to marry Maurice or not; but, whatever happens, I inherit my dear friend's money, either as his wife, or on my own account: it does not in the least matter which. No wonder I am in good spirits! He comes back to-night, and Florence Aylmer has yielded to temptation. I have nothing to fear from her now. The second story will go to her by the first post in the morning. I fancy it will be even more fetching than the one which has already taken the fancy of the editor of the Argonaut."

Trevor had now entered the hall, and Bertha went to meet him.

"How do you do?" she said, in her gayest voice. She was dressed in the most becoming way, and looked wonderfully attractive. Her red-gold hair was always a striking feature about her; her complexion at night was of the palest cream and dazzlingly fair; her eyes looked big, and as she raised them to Trevor's face they wore a pathetic expression. He wrung her hand heartily, asked for Mrs. Aylmer, said that he would go to his room to get ready for dinner, and ran upstairs three steps at a time.

"How nice he looks!" thought the girl; "it would be possible for me to like him even as much as Mrs. Aylmer fears, but I will not show my hand at present. What does this fresh combination mean? I wonder who the girl is who is to be brought to Aylmer's Court on purpose to be wooed by Maurice Trevor."

The dinner-gong sounded, and soon Mrs. Aylmer, Trevor, and Bertha sat around the board. He chatted gaily, telling both the ladies some amusing adventures, and causing Mrs. Aylmer to laugh heartily several times.

"You are a very bad boy to stay away from me so long," she said; "but now you are not to stir: your work is cut out for you. I mean you to take complete control of the estate. To-morrow you and I will have a long conversation on the subject."

"But I am not at all a business man," he answered, frowning slightly and glancing from Bertha to Mrs. Aylmer.

"Never mind; you can learn. You surely ought to know something of what is to be your own eventually!"

"I thought that your steward and Miss Keys managed everything."

"Miss Keys manages a good deal, perhaps too much," said Mrs. Aylmer, frowning, and glancing in a somewhat suspicious way at her companion. "I mean you to manage your own affairs in the future; but you and I will have a talk after breakfast to-morrow."

"Yes, I shall be glad to have a talk with you," he answered. He looked at her gravely.

Bertha wondered what was passing in his mind.

CHAPTER XXIV.

TREVOR ASKS BERTHA'S ADVICE

That same evening, when Mrs. Aylmer had retired to bed and Bertha was about to go to her own room, she met Trevor on the stairs.

"Are you disengaged?" he said. "I should like to speak to you for a moment or two."

"I am certainly disengaged to you," she replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Come back to the drawing-room; the lamps are still alight. I won't keep you many minutes."

They both re-entered the beautiful room. The night was so warm that the windows were open; the footman appeared and prepared to close them, but Trevor motioned him back.

"I will shut up the room," he said; "you need not wait up."

The man withdrew, closing the door softly behind him.

Bertha found herself standing close to Trevor. She looked into his face and noted with a sense of approval how handsome and manly and simple-looking he was. An ideal young Englishman, without guile or reproach. He was looking back at her, and once more that peculiar expression in his honest blue eyes appeared.

"I want to consult with you," he said: "something is giving me a good deal of uneasiness."

"What is that, Mr. Trevor?"

"When I was in town I met Miss Florence Aylmer."

"Did you really? How interesting!" Bertha dropped lightly into the nearest chair. "Well, and how was the dear Florence? Had she got a berth of any sort? Is she very busy? She is terribly poor, you know."

"She is disgracefully, shamefully poor," was his answer, spoken with some indignation, the colour flaming over his face as he spoke.

Bertha did not say anything, but she looked full at him. After a moment's pause, she uttered one word softly and half below her breath, and that word was simply: "Yes?"

"She is disgracefully poor!" he repeated. "Miss Keys, that ought not to be the case."

"I do not understand you," said Bertha.

"May I explain?" He dropped into a chair near her, and bent forward; his hands were within a couple of inches of hers as they lay in her lap.

"I have had a talk with Miss Aylmer, and find that she is my friend's niece. My benefactress, the lady who has adopted me, is aunt by marriage to the girl, who is now struggling hard to earn a living in London. Between that girl and starvation there is but a very thin wall. I am in a false position. I ought to have nothing to do with Mrs. Aylmer. Florence Aylmer is her rightful heiress; I am in the wrong place. I thought I would speak to you. What would you advise?"

"How chivalrous you are!" said Bertha, and she looked at him again, and her queer big eyes were full of a soft light, a dangerous light of admiration.

He said to himself: "I never knew before how handsome you could be at times!" and then he turned away, as if he did not want to look at her.

"You are very chivalrous," she said slowly; "but what can you do?"

"You see how manifestly unfair the whole thing is," continued the young man. "I am no relation whatever to Mrs. Aylmer. She knew my mother, it is true; she wanted an heir, and took a fancy to me; she has promised that I am to inherit her wealth. Have you the least idea what her income is, or what wealth I am in the future likely to possess?"

"You will be a very rich man," said Bertha slowly.

"How do you know?"

"Because Mrs. Aylmer has a large yearly income. Her landed estates are considerable, and she has money in many stocks and shares. She has enough money in English Consols alone to give you a considerable yearly income. Think what that means. This money you can realise at a moment's notice. Her own income I cannot exactly tell you; but this I do know, that she does not spend half of it. Thus she is accumulating money, and she means to give it all to you."

"But it is unfair. It cannot be right. I will not accept it."

"Is that kind to your mother? You left off your professional studies in order to take your present position. You thought of your mother at the time. You have often spoken to me about her and your great love for her."

"I love her, and because I love her I cannot accept the present state of things."

"Why did you accept them in the beginning?"

"I knew nothing of Florence Aylmer: she is the rightful heiress."

"Do you think, if you refuse all this wealth, that she will inherit it?"

"Why not? She ought to inherit it. But there, I have spoken to you; I have but little more to say. My mind is made up. No objections you can urge will make me alter what I have firmly resolved to do. I shall talk to Mrs. Aylmer about her niece to-morrow. I will show her how wrong she is. I will ask her to put that wrong right."

Bertha gave a low laugh. The fear which had risen again in her breast was not allowed to appear; she knew that she must be very careful or she would betray herself. She thought for a moment; then she said softly: "You must do as you please. After all, this is scarcely my affair; but I will tell you what I know."

"What is that?"

"Florence Aylmer at one time did something which offended Mrs. Aylmer."

"Poor girl she told me so herself. What could any young girl do to have such a punishment meted out to her? She ought to be here in your place, Miss Keys; she ought to be here in my place. You and I are not wanted in this establishment."

"Oh, why do you say that? Mrs. Aylmer must have a companion."

"Well, you can please yourself, of course; but I cannot stay to see injustice done to another."

"You cannot force Mrs. Aylmer to leave her money except where she pleases. She dislikes Miss Aylmer; she will have nothing to do with her, and she will be very angry with you. You refuse the money and you do not make things any better for Miss Aylmer. Mrs. Aylmer can leave her money to charities. It is easily disposed of."

Trevor sat quite still, gazing out into the summer night. After a pause he walked towards the window and closed it. He fastened the bolts and drew down the blinds; then he turned to Bertha and held out his hand.

"I thought you could have counselled me, but I see you are not on my side," he said. "Good night."

"There is only one thing I must add," said Bertha.

"What is that?"

"If you deliberately choose to injure yourself you must not injure me."

"What do you mean by that? How can I possibly injure you?"

"You can say what you like with regard to Florence Aylmer, but you must not mention one fact."

"What is that?"

"That I happen to know her."

"What do you mean?"

"I do not choose to say what I mean. I trust to your honour not to injure a woman quite as dependent and quite as penniless as Florence Aylmer. I have secured this place, and I wish to stay here. If you are mad, I am sane. I ask you not to mention to Mrs. Aylmer that I know Florence; otherwise, you must go your own gait."

"I will, of course, respect your confidence, but I do not understand you."

"Some day you will, and also what a great fool you are making of yourself," was Bertha's next remark.

She sailed past him out of the room and up to her own bed-room.

CHAPTER XXV.

TREVOR'S RESOLVE

If Trevor had a fault it was obstinacy. He stayed awake for a short time, but finally dropped asleep, having made up his mind, of course, not to injure Bertha Keys, whom he could not understand in the least, but to have, as he expressed it, a sober talk with Mrs. Aylmer. He saw that Bertha, for reasons of her own, was very much against this course, and he resolved to keep out of her way. He rose early and went for a long ride before breakfast. He did not return until he knew Bertha would be busy over household matters, and Mrs. Aylmer would in all probability be alone in her private sitting-room.

He tapped at her door between eleven and twelve o'clock, and at her summons entered and closed it behind him.

"Ah, Maurice, that is good," said the lady; "come and sit near me. I am quite prepared to have a long chat with you."

"And I want to have a long talk with you, Mrs. Aylmer," was his answer. He drew a chair forward, and sat where he could see right out over the landscape.

"It is a beautiful day," said the lady.

"Yes," he replied.

"Maurice," she said, after a pause, "you must know that I am very much attached to you."

"You have always been extremely good to me," he answered.

"I am attached to you; it is easy to be good to those one loves. I have never had a child of my own; you stand to me in the place of a son."

"But in reality I am not related to you," he answered.

She frowned slightly.

"There are relations of the heart," she said then. "You have touched my heart. There is nothing I would not do for you."

Again he said: "You are very kind."

She was silent for half a minute, then she proceeded: "You are my heir."

He fidgeted.

"Do not speak until I have finished. I do not like to be interrupted. You are my heir, and I mean to settle upon you immediately one thousand pounds a year for your own expenses. You can do what you please with that money."

"It is a great deal too much," he said.

"It is not; it is what you ought to have. You can give some of it to your mother – not a great deal, but a little – and the rest you can spend on yourself, or you can hoard it, just as you like."

"I shall not hoard it," he answered, and his face flushed.

"It will be yours from next month. I am expecting my lawyer, Mr. Wiltshire, to call here this afternoon. Several matters have to be arranged. Maurice, you will live with me for the present; that is, until you marry."

"I do not mean to marry," he answered.

"All young men say that," she replied. "You will marry as others do. You will fall in love and you will marry. I shall be very glad indeed to welcome your wife. She shall have the best and most affectionate welcome from me, and I will treat her as though she were my daughter: just as I treat you, Maurice, as though you were my real son."

"But I cannot forget that I am not your son," he answered. "Mrs. Aylmer, there is something I must say."

His words disturbed her for a moment; she did not speak, but looked at him in a puzzled manner; then she said: "If you have something disagreeable to tell me (and I cannot imagine what it is), at least hear my point of view first. I am particularly anxious that you should marry. As my heir, you are already comparatively rich, and your expectations are excellent. You will have at my death a very large income. You will also be the owner of this fine property. Now, I should like you to marry, and I should like you to marry wealth."

"Why so? How unfair!" said the young man.

"It is a wish of mine. Wealth attracts wealth. There is a girl whom I have heard of – whom I have, I believe, some years ago seen – a very sweet, very graceful, very pretty girl. Her name is Miss Sharston. She was poor, but I have lately heard that Sir John Wallis, the owner of Cherry Court Park, in Buckinghamshire, is going to make her his heiress. She is coming on a visit here. I cannot, of course, force your inclination, Maurice; but if by any chance you and Catherine Sharston should take a fancy to each other, it would be a union after my own heart."

"Thank you," he answered. He rose immediately to his feet. "You are treating me with your customary liberality. You have always been most liberal, most generous. I am the son of a widow with very small means. My father was strictly a man of honour. He was a soldier, and he fell in his country's cause. I hope that, although he could not leave me gold, he could and did leave me honour. I cannot afford to have my honour tarnished."

"Maurice! I tarnish your honour! You really make very extraordinary insinuations. What does this mean?"

"You didn't think about it, dear friend; it has not occurred to you to look at it in this light, but, believe me, such is the case."

"Maurice!"

"I only knew of it lately," he continued, "and by an accident. You want to give me a great deal of money now; you want to leave me a large sum of money in the future. You propose that I shall if possible marry a girl who is also to be very rich. That is a subject which cannot even be discussed. I do not think, whatever happens, that I could marry any girl I did not love. If this girl comes here, I shall of course be glad to make her acquaintance, but I do not think it is right or just to her to mention such a subject in connection with her name. But to proceed to other matters. If I were to accept your offer just as you have made it, I should perhaps be able to spend my money, and perhaps in a fashion to enjoy it, but I should no longer feel happy when my brave father's name was mentioned, nor should I feel happy when I looked into the eyes of my real mother."

"Go on, Maurice; this is very quixotic, very extraordinary, and, let me add, very fatiguing," said Mrs. Aylmer. "I make you the best offer I have ever made to anybody, and even you, my dear boy, must recognise limits in our intercourse."

"I ought not to be your heir," he said; "I will come to the point at once. You ought not to leave your money to me; it is not just nor right."

"And pray may I not leave my money to whom I please?"

"You ought not to leave it to me; you ought to leave it to Miss Aylmer."

"Miss Aylmer! What Miss Aylmer?"

"Her name is Florence. I met her in London. I met her also at Dawlish. She is very poor. She is a brave girl, independent, with courage and ability. She is about to make a striking success in the world of literature; but she is poor – poor almost to the point of starvation. Why should she be so struggling, and why should I, who am no relative of yours, inherit all this wealth? It won't do, Mrs. Aylmer; and, what is more, I won't have it."

Mrs. Aylmer was so absolutely astonished that she did not speak at all for a moment.

"You are mad," she said then slowly.

"No, I am not mad: I am sane. I shall be very glad to receive a little help from you. I shall be your devoted son in all but name, but I do not want your money: I mean I don't want any longer to be your heir. Give your wealth to Florence Aylmer, and forget that you have made this suggestion to me. Believe me, you will be happy if you do so."

"Are you in love with this girl?" said Mrs. Aylmer slowly.

"You have no right to ask the question; but I will answer it. I do not think I am in love with her. I believe I am actuated by a sense of justice. I want you to do justice to this girl, and I want to give you in return my undying gratitude and undying respect."

"Indeed; what valuable possessions! Now, my dear Maurice, you have just gone a step too far. As you have spoken of Florence Aylmer, I will tell you something about her. There was a time when I intended to leave her my money. I intended to adopt her, to educate her, to bring her out as my niece and heiress. She herself by her own unworthy conduct prevented my doing so. She acted in a most dishonourable way. I will not tell you what she did, but if you wish to know farther go and see Sir John Wallis, of Cherry Court Park, and ask him what he thinks of Florence Aylmer."

"Then you refuse to do what I ask?"

"I utterly and absolutely refuse to leave Florence Aylmer one halfpenny of my money; and, what is more, the thousand a year which I intend to settle on you will be only given on condition that you do not help Florence Aylmer with one penny of it. Do not answer me now. You are young and impulsive; not a word more at present. I will ask Mr. Wiltshire to postpone his visit for three months. During that time you can consider matters. During that time I expect everything to go on just as usual. During part of that time Miss Sharston and her father and also Sir John Wallis will be my guests. At the end of that time I will again have an interview with you. But unless you promise to give up your present mad ideas, and to let Miss Aylmer pursue her own career, unhelped by you, unmolested by you, I shall find another heir or heiress for my property."