The Time of Roses

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XXXVII.

  TREVOR PROPOSES TO FLORENCE.

  Trevor's vigorous knock came upon Florence's door. She did not know whyher heart leapt, nor why the colour came into her cheeks. She had beenfeeling indifferent to all the world a moment before. Now she wassuddenly eager and full of interest.

  She crossed the room and opened the door wide. When she saw Trevor sheuttered an exclamation and her eyes shone.

  "Is it possible that you have come?" she said. "How are you? Won't youcome in?"

  He took her hand.

  "Yes, I have come," he answered. "Can you give me a little time, or areyou too busy?"

  "I am never busy," said Florence.

  He looked at her in some surprise when she said that, but resolved totake no notice. He had quick eyes and a keen intuition, and he saw at aglance that Florence was uneasy and suffering, also that she was more orless indifferent to the life on which she had entered, which ought tohave been so full of the keenest interest. She asked him to seat himselfand took a chair near.

  "How are they all at Aylmer's Court?" she asked.

  "When I left yesterday morning they were well," he replied. "Did youknow 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 expectedof him by Mrs. Aylmer with regard to Kitty, the bronze on his cheeksdeepened.

  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 besurprised; I ought to be glad," she thought. But she knew very well thatshe was not glad, and she vaguely wondered why.

  "I have come with a message from my mother," said Trevor, who waswatching her while her eyes were travelling towards the fire. He wasthinking how ill and worn she looked, and his heart was full of pity aswell as love, but he would not speak yet. He must wait; he must be sureof her feelings before he committed himself.

  "I have come with a message from my mother," he repeated. "I want you tocome back with me now. You enjoyed your last day at the cottage: it wassummer 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 lookedlongingly out of the window as she spoke. "No," she repeated; "Icannot."

  "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 itto the editor of the _Argonaut_; he is waiting."

  "Do you know, I have only read one of your stories, the first whichappeared 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. Ofcourse I saw that it was--"

  "Don't say again that it was clever. I don't wish to hear anything aboutit. I cannot come with you to-day. I have to do some copying."

  "Why do you say copying?"

  "Because I always copy the manuscripts faithfully before Mr. Franks hasthem 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 ownvehemence.

  Trevor rose, a look of annoyance on his face.

  "I am sorry you should think of my offer of help in that spirit," hesaid; "you don't quite understand: perhaps some day I may be able tomake things plain to you. I take a great, a very great interest in you.You have brought--"

  "What?" said Florence.

  "You have brought a great anxiety and trouble into my life, as well asa very great absorbing interest; but I can say no more now."

  "If you will go away," said Florence, "I will begin to work. I have aheadache, and am confused. Go away and come again, if you like. I shallbe better the next time you come."

  "Why won't you tell me what is troubling you?"

  "How do you know anything troubles me?"

  "How do I know?" said Trevor. "I have eyes--that is all: eyes and acertain amount of intuition," he added.

  "I cannot go to-day," said Florence, who took no notice of his words,"but perhaps on Sunday I may go to see your mother. Will you be therethen?"

  "Yes: did you not hear? I have broken with Mrs. Aylmer."

  "What?" said Florence. She forgot herself in her excitement. She cametwo or three steps forward; her hands were clasped tightly together.

  "Yes; I cannot stand the life. Mrs. Aylmer is very kind to me, and meanswell; but so long as she is so cruel to you I cannot endure it. I havetold her so, and I am going to earn my own living in the future. I am nolonger a rich man--indeed, I am a very poor one; but I have brains and Ithink I have pluck, and some day I am certain I shall succeed."

  Trevor held himself erect, and his eyes, full of suppressed fire, werefixed on Florence's face. He wanted her to say she was glad; he wantedto get a word of sympathy from her. On the contrary, she turned verywhite, and said, in a low, almost broken voice: "Oh, I am terriblysorry! Why have you done this?"

  "You are _sorry_?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "I have done it for you. I cannot stand injustice."

  "I could never under any circumstances accept Mrs. Aylmer's money," saidFlorence. "You do me no good, and yourself harm; and then your mother:she was so happy about you. Oh, do go back to Mrs. Aylmer; do tell heryou didn't mean it. I know she must be very fond of you. It makes me sowretched, so overpoweringly wretched, to think you should have done thisfor me. Oh, do go back! She will be so glad to receive you. I know alittle about her: I know she will receive you with rejoicing."

  "Do you know what she wants me to do?" he said. He was very white now.He had thrown prudence to the winds.

  "What?"

  "You will not like it when I tell you; but you must at least exonerateme: I am obliged to be frank."

  "Say what you please; I am willing to listen."

  Trevor dropped once more into a chair.

  "When I last saw her she made a proposal to me. It was not the firsttime; it was the second. She wanted me to marry--"

  "I know," said Florence; "she wants you to marry Kitty. But why not? Sheis so sweet; she is the dearest girl in all the world."

  "Hush!" said Trevor. "I do not love her, nor does she love me. I canscarcely bear to tell you all this. It is sacrilegious to think ofmarriage under such circumstances, and above all things to mention it inconnection with a girl like Miss Sharston."

  Florence found tears springing to her eyes.

  "You are very good," she said, "too good, to sit here and talk to me. Ofcourse, if you don't love Kitty, there is an end of it. Are you quitesure?"

  "Positive. I know my own heart too well. I love another."

  "Another?"

  Florence had a wild fear for a moment that he was alluding to BerthaKeys. A desperate thought came into her brain.

  "At any cost, I will open his eyes: I will tell him the truth," shethought.

  Trevor had come nearer, and was bending forward and trying to take herhand.

  "You are the one I love," he said. "How can I, who love you with all myheart and soul and strength, who would give my life for you, how can Ithink of anyone else? It does not matter whether you are the mostamiable or the most unamiable woman in the world, Florence: you are theone woman on God's earth for me. Do you hear me, Florence; do you hearme? I love you; I have come to-day to tell you that I give my life toyou. I put it into your hands. I didn't mean to speak, but the truth hasbeen wrung from me. Do you hear me, Florence?"

  Florence certainly did hear, but she did not speak. Trevor had taken herhand, and she did not withdraw it. She was stunned for a moment. Thenext instant there
came over her, sweeping round her, entering herheart, filling her whole being, a delicious and marvellous ecstasy. Thepain and the trouble vanished. The treachery, the deceit, and the fallshe had undergone were forgotten. She only knew that, if Trevor lovedher, she loved him. She was about to speak when her eyes fell for amoment on a page of the manuscript she had just written. Like a flash,memory came back.

  It stung her cruelly as a serpent might sting. She sprang to her feet;she flung down his hand.

  "You don't know whom you are talking to. If you knew me just as I am,you would unsay all those words; and, Mr. Trevor, you can never know meas I am, never, and I can never marry you."

  "But do you love me? That is the point," said Trevor.

  "I--do not ask me. No--if you must know. How can I love anybody? I amincapable of love. Oh, go, go! do go! I don't love you: of course Idon't. Don't think of me again. I am not for you. Try and love Kitty,and make Mrs. Aylmer happy. Go; do leave me! I am unworthy of you,absolutely, utterly."

  "But if I think differently?" said Trevor. He was very much troubled byher words; she spoke with such vehemence, and alluded to suchextraordinary and to him impossible things, that he failed to understandher; then he said slowly: "You are stunned and surprised, but, darling,I am willing to wait, and my heart is yours. A man cannot take back hisheart after he has given it, even though a woman does scorn it. But youwon't be cruel to me; I cannot believe it, Florence. I will come againto-morrow and see you."

  He turned without speaking to her again and left the room.

  Florence never knew how she spent the rest of that day; but she had adim memory afterwards that she worked harder during the succeeding hoursthan she had ever worked in her life before. Her brain was absolutelystimulated by what she had gone through, and she felt almost inclined toventure to write that Sunday-school paper which Tom Franks had so muchdesired.

  She was to go out that evening with the Franks. She was now, althoughthe London season had by no means begun, a little bit in request incertain literary circles; and Tom Franks, who had taken her in tow, wasanxious to bring her as much forward as possible.

  Edith and Tom were going to drive to a certain house in the suburbswhere a literary lady, a Mrs. Simpson, a very fashionable woman, lived.Florence was to be the lioness of the evening, and Edith came in earlyfrom her medical work to apprise her of the fact.

  "You had better wear that pretty black lace dress, and here are somecrimson roses for you," she said. "I bought them at the florist's roundthe corner; they will suit you very well. But I wish you would not loseall your colour. You certainly look quite fagged out."

  "On the contrary, I am not the least bit tired," said Florence. "I amglad I am going. I have finished the story for your brother and can postit first. I have had a hard day's work, Edith, and deserve a little bitof fun to-night."

  "Now that I look at you, you don't seem as tired as usual," said Edith;"that is right. Tom was vexed last night. He says you work so hard thatyou are quite stupid in society. Try and allow people to draw you out.If you make even one or two of those pretty little epigrammatic speecheswith which your writing is full, you will get yourself talked of morethan ever. I presume, writing the sort of things you do, that you aregoing in for fame, and fame alone. Well, my dear, at least so live thatyou may obtain that for which you are selling yourself."

  "I am not selling myself. How dare you?" said Florence. Her whole mannerwas new; she had ceased to depreciate herself.

  Edith left her, and Florence went into her bed-room and carefully madeher toilet. Her eyes were soft as well as bright. The dress she woresuited her well; there was a flush of becoming colour in her cheeks. Shejoined Edith just as Franks drove up in his brougham. He ran upstairs,and was pleased to see that the two girls were ready.

  "Come, that is nice," he said, gazing at Florence with an increasedbeating of his heart. He said to himself: "She is absolutely handsome.She would suit me admirably as a wife. I may propose to her to-night ifI have the chance."

  He gave his arm to Florence with a certain chivalry which was by nomeans habitual to him, and the two girls and Franks went downstairs.

  "There is to be a bit of a crush," he said, looking at Florence; "and,by the way, did I tell you who was to be present? You saw him to-day:Maurice Trevor. He is a great friend of Mrs. Simpson's, and he and hismother have been invited."

  Florence's hand was still on Franks's arm when he spoke, and as heuttered the words "Maurice Trevor" she gave that arm an involuntarygrip. He felt the grip, and a queer sensation went through him. He couldnot look into her face, but his suspicions were aroused. Why had shebeen so startled when Trevor's name was mentioned? He would watch thepair to-night. Trevor was not going to take Florence from him if he,Franks, wished for her: of that he was resolved.