The Time of Roses

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XL.

  IS IT "YES" OR "NO"?

  Florence sat up long with that letter lying in her lap. The fire burnedlow and finally went out. Still she sat by the cold hearth, and once ortwice she touched the letter, and once or twice she read it.

  "It burns into me; it is written in my heart in letters of fire," shesaid to herself finally, and then she rose slowly and stretched her armsand crossed the room and looked out at the sky. From the top of herlofty flat she could see just a little sky above the London roofs. Itwas a clear cold night with a touch of frost, and the stars were allbrilliant. Florence gazed up at them.

  "There is a lofty and pure and grand world somewhere," she said toherself; "but it is not for me. Good-bye, Maurice; I could have lovedyou well. With you I would have been good, very good: with you I mighthave climbed up: the stars would not have been quite out of reach.Good-bye, Maurice; it is not to be."

  She took Bertha's letter, put it on the cold hearth, set fire to it, andsaw it consumed to ashes. Then she undressed and went to bed. Whateverher dreams were she rose in good time in the morning. She had aconsiderable amount to do. She was to see Franks at nine o'clock. Shewas to see Trevor later on.

  She had to copy a whole very brilliant story of Bertha's. She was a slowwriter and there was nothing of talent in her handwriting.

  "I am a very stupid girl when all is said and done," she said toherself; "I am not even in the ordinary sense of the word well-educated.I have been years studying, but somehow I think I must have a frivoloussort of brain. Perhaps I have taken after the little Mummy. The littleMummy never was clever. She is a dear little mother when all is said anddone, and very comforting when one is in trouble, and if I saw her now Imight break down and fling my arms round her neck and confess to her.With all her silliness she would comfort me and she would never reproachme; but I must not tell. There is no softness in my future. Thankgoodness, at least I am young; I may have a great career; I will besatisfied to be famous. It will be terribly, terribly, difficult to befamous through the whim of another woman; but I suppose Bertha will notforsake me."

  She dressed, prepared her breakfast as usual, and had just washed upafterwards and put her little sitting-room in order when Franks's knockwas heard at her door. He entered in that brisk, business-like, utterlycool way which always characterised him. He looked immaculate and fresh.He was always extremely particular about his appearance. His collarswere invariably as white as the driven snow, and his clothes well cut.He dressed himself between the style of a country gentleman and a man ofbusiness. He never wore frock-coats, for instance. He was a small man,but well made. He held himself upright as a soldier. His black hair wasbrushed back from his lofty white brow. He had straight black eye-browsand a neat little black moustache and straight features. His skin was ofan olive tint. Those well-cut, classical features gave to his face acertain cold sameness of outline. It was almost impossible to surprisehim or to cause emotion to visit his countenance. He looked now ascomposed as though he had merely come to give Florence a fresh order forwork.

  "Ah," he said, "there you are. One minute past nine; sorry I am late;accept my apologies."

  Florence pushed forward a chair. She could scarcely bring herself tospeak. Even her lips were white. Franks did not sit; he came a stepnearer.

  "I have exactly ten minutes," he said; "this is a purely businessarrangement. Is it to be 'yes' or 'no?'"

  "If you will faithfully assure me that--" began Florence, and then shestopped and wetted her lips. Her mouth was so dry she could scarcelyproceed.

  Franks gave an impatient start. He took out his watch and glanced at it.

  "Yes," he said, "I am awfully sorry; if it is no, it won't be necessaryto keep me now."

  "I must speak; you cannot hurry me."

  "Oh, all right; take your own time," said Franks. His face beamed allover for a moment. He looked at the girl with a certain covetousness.After all, there was something about her which might develop intostrength and even beauty. She had been pretty last night. She wouldassuredly be his stepping-stone to great fame. He was a very clever manhimself, but he was not a genius. With Florence, with their two forcescombined, might they not rise to any position?

  "Yes, my dear, yes?" he said. "Sit down, Florence, sit down."

  She shivered when he called her by her Christian name, but she did dropinto a chair. He drew his own close to hers.

  "Yes, Florence," he said, "what is it? You are about to make conditions.If they lead to 'yes' I will fulfil them."

  "I only want to ask you to repeat something which you said last night."

  "What is that?"

  "Can you assuredly tell me that you are only marrying me just becauseyou think that you and I together can be famous?"

  "You would not like me to say that sort of thing, would you?"

  "On the contrary, if I firmly know, firmly and truly from your own lips,that you do _not_ love me, that there is no love in the matter, that itis a mere business arrangement----"

  "Well, what?"

  "It would be, I think, _possible_."

  "Then that means 'yes.' I like you very much. I hope a day may come whenI shall love you."

  "I want it clearly to be understood," said Florence, "that I do not wishfor that day. I don't love you at all, and I don't want you to love me;but if we can, as you say, work in harness, perhaps it would be best.Anyhow, I----"

  "You say 'yes,' my dear girl; that is all I need. We can talk over thosecurious ideas of yours later on. You are engaged to me, Florence--come."

  He went quickly up to her, put his arm round her waist, drew her closeto him, and kissed her on the forehead.

  "I am not repugnant to you, am I?" he said, as she shrank away.

  "I don't know," she replied; "I am selling myself and you are buying me:I hope I shall prove a good bargain. I don't want you to imagine for amoment that I care for you; but I am selling myself, and it may bebest."

  "You must drop all that kind of nonsense when once you are my wife," hesaid. "As it is, I bear with it. We shall be married before Christmas.We will take a flat in a fashionable part and see literary people. Wewill start a new salon. Now good-bye; I will call again to-night. By theway, how is the story getting on?"

  "I don't know that I can quite finish it all to-day, but you shall haveit by the time I promised."

  "Thank you, Florence. I believe you and I are acting wisely. I hope weshall be kind to each other: we have a great deal in common. You couldnot step up as high as I shall place you without my aid, and you areuseful to me: it is an admirable arrangement. Good-bye, dear."

  She shrank so far away that he did not venture to repeat his coldcaress. He again looked at his watch.

  "How late I shall be!" he said. "Anderson will be astonished. He willforgive me, however, when I tell him that I am engaged to my risingstar. Good-bye, Florence."

  "Thank God!" she muttered, when the door closed behind him. She hadscarcely time, however, for reflection before it was opened again, andthis time without knocking. Edith Franks, wearing her hat and coat andbuttoning on her gloves, entered briskly.

  "I thought I heard Tom going downstairs. So he has been?" she enquired.

  "Yes, Edith, he has been."

  Edith came nearer and looked at Florence's face.

  "So you are to be my sister-in-law," she said.

  "Don't scold me, please, Edith."

  "Good gracious, no dear; I gave you my word of warning last night. Now Iam all congratulations. You will make a nice little sister-in-law, andwe are proud of your ability. Go on and prosper. You have chosenambition. Some women would prefer love, but everyone to their taste. I'moff. Good-bye, Florence. I see you would much rather not be kissed. Tomhas been doing that, doubtless. I will see you again this evening."

  Edith went out of the room in her brisk way. She shut the door quickly.

  Florence went straight to the window. She stood there for a minute ortwo looking out. Then she dropped into a chair and, taking a sheet
ofnote-paper, began to write. She was writing to Bertha.

  "MY DEAR BERTHA--

  "The letter I received from you last night requires no comment. You may perhaps be glad to hear that I have just engaged myself to Mr. Franks, the sub-editor of the _Argonaut_, and a very distinguished man. We are to be married before Christmas. It is his particular wish that I should go on writing, and it is one of the conditions that we shall both pursue our own careers independently of the other, and yet each helped by the other. You will, I am sure, fulfil your part of the bargain. I shall want another story of about five thousand words next week, as terse, and brilliant, and clever as you can make it. I shall also want an article for the _General Review_. Make it smart, but avoid the woman question. I have been bullied on the subject, and did not know how to answer.

  "Yours truly,

  "FLORENCE AYLMER."

  This letter written, Florence did not even wait to read it. She put itinto an envelope, directed it, and ran out with it to the nearestpillar-box. She dropped it in and returned to the house. It was not yeteleven o'clock. How tired she was! It was nearly two hours since Franksand she had ratified their contract. She was engaged now--engaged to aman who did not profess to love her, for whom she did not feel thefaintest glimmering of affection. She was engaged and safe; yes, ofcourse she was safe. No fear now of her ghastly secret being discovered!As long as Bertha lived the stories could be conveyed to her, and thestories would mean fame, and she would go on adding fame to fame andgreatness to greatness until she was known, not only in England, but inAmerica, and in the Colonies, as a new writer of great promise, andFranks would be rich. Oh, yes, he would manage her financial affairs inthe future. He would not allow her to sell her talent for less than itwas worth. He would instruct her how to dress, and how to speak when shewas in public; he would take care that she did not give herself away asshe had all but done last night. He would be her master, and doubtlessshe would find herself ruled by an iron rod. But no matter: she wassafe. She would not think even for a moment of what she was throwingaway. Such was her feeling; but never mind: she had chosen the wrong andrefused the right. Great temptation had come, and she had not been ableto resist it, and now the only way was to go straight on; and Franks hadmade that way plain. It was the broad road which led to destruction. Shewas pricked by many thorns, and the broad road was the reverse ofpleasant, and she saw dizzily how steep the hill would grow by-and-by,and how fast the descent would be; but never mind: she at least was safefor the present.

  She panted and felt herself turning slightly cold as this last thoughtcame to her, for there was a tap at the door, and Trevor, his facewhite, his grey eyes anxious, an expression of earnestness and lovebeaming all over his features, came in.

  He was in every way the opposite of Tom Franks.

  Florence looked wildly at him. She must go through the dreadfulhalf-hour which was before her. She hoped he would not stay long: thathe would take his dismissal quietly. She dared not think too hard; shedid her utmost to drive thought out.

  "Well," said Trevor, "have I come too early?"

  "Oh, no," said Florence, "it is past eleven," and she looked listlesslyat the clock.

  He tried to take her hand. She put it immediately behind her.

  "You have come to ask me a question, have you not?" she said.

  "I have. You promised me your confidence last night."

  "I did not promise: I said I might give it."

  "Am I to expect it?"

  "What do you want to know?"

  "I want to know this," said Trevor. He took out of his pocket a copy ofthe _General Review_. He opened it at the page where Florence's articleappeared. He then also produced from his pocket-book a tiny slip ofpaper, a torn slip, on which, in Bertha Keys's handwriting, was theidentical sentence which had attracted so much attention in the_Review_.

  "Look," he said.

  Florence did look. Her frightened eyes were fixed upon the scrap ofpaper.

  "Where--where did you get that?" she said.

  "It is remarkable," he said; "I thought perhaps _you_ would explain. Ihave read your paper--I am not going to say whether I like it or not. Doyou remember that day when I saw you and gave you a packet at HamsladeStation?"

  "Quite well."

  "I think you would not be likely to forget. I was naturally puzzled tofind you so near Mrs. Aylmer's house and yet not there. The packet Igave you was from Miss Keys, was it not?"

  "There can be no harm in admitting that fact," replied Florence, in aguarded voice.

  He looked at her and shook himself impatiently.

  "I was perplexed and amazed at seeing you at the station."

  "You ought to try and curb your curiosity, Mr. Trevor," said Florence.She tried to speak lightly and in a bantering tone. He was too much inearnest to take any notice of her tone.

  "I was curious; I had reason to be," he replied. "I went home. MissKeys, Miss Sharston and others were in the hall. They were talking aboutyou, and Miss Sharston showed me one of your stories. I read it; we bothread it, and with keen curiosity."

  "Was it the first or the second?" said Florence.

  "The first story. It was clever; it was not a bit the sort of story Ithought you would have written."

  Florence lowered her eyes.

  "The style was remarkable and distinctive," he continued; "it was notthe style of a girl so young as you are; but of course that goes fornothing. I went upstairs to Mrs. Aylmer's boudoir: I wanted to fetch abook. I don't think I was anxious to read, but I was restless. The booklay on Miss Keys's desk. On the desk also were some torn sheets ofpaper. I picked up one mechanically."

  "You read what was not meant for you to read!" said Florence, her eyesflashing.

  Trevor gave her a steady glance.

  "I admit that I read a sentence--the sentence I have just shown you. Iwill frankly tell you that I was surprised at it; I was puzzled by theresemblance between the style of the story and the style of thesentence. I put the torn sheet of paper into my pocket-book. I don'texactly know why I did it at the time, but I felt desperate. I wastaking a great interest in you. It seemed to me that if you did wrong Iwas doing wrong myself. It seemed to me that if by any chance your soulwas smirched, or made unhappy, or blackened, or any of its loftiness andits god-like quality removed, my own soul was smirched too, my ownnature lowered. But I thought no special harm of you, although I wastroubled; and that night I learned for the first time that I wasinterested in you because I loved you, because you were the first of allwomen to me, and I----"

  "Oh, don't," said Florence, "don't say any more." She turned away fromhim, flung herself on the sofa, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

  Trevor stood near for a little in much bewilderment. Presently sheraised her eyes. He sat down on the sofa by her.

  "Why don't you tell me everything, Florence?" he said, with greattenderness in his tone.

  "I cannot: it is too late. Think what you like of me! Suspect me as youwill! I do not think you would voluntarily injure me. I cannot give youmy confidence, for I----"

  "Yes, dear, yes; don't tremble so. Poor little girl, you will be betterafterwards. I won't ask you too much; only tell me, sweetest, with yourown lips that you love me."

  "I am not sweet, I am not dear, I am not darling. I am a bad girl, badin every way," said Florence. "Think of me as you like. I dare not benear you: I dare not speak to you. Oh, yes, perhaps I _could_ have lovedyou: I won't think of that now. I am engaged to another man."

  "You engaged!" said Trevor. He sprang to his feet as if someone had shothim. He trembled a little; then he pulled himself together. "Say itagain."

  "I am engaged to Mr. Franks."

  "But you were not engaged last night?"

  "No."

  "When did this take place?"

  "Two hours ago; he came at nine--a minute past, I think. We becameengaged; it is all settled. Good-bye; forget me."

  Florence still
kept her hands behind her. She rose: her miserabletear-stained face and her eyes full of agony were raised for a moment toTrevor's.

  "Do go," she said; "it is all over. I have accepted the part that is notgood, and you must forget me."