"Something--but I must see you alone."
"Let us come along this corridor; there are a great many bedrooms: we will open one on the chance of its being empty."
Bertha seized Florence"s hand and began to fly down the corridor with her. She knocked at a door, there was no reply, she opened it.
"There, it is unoccupied," she said; "we will stay here for a minute or two. Come now, what is it?"
"It is this," said Florence; she turned and faced Bertha.
"Bertha Keys," she said, "my mother has told me, and I heard that of you this morning which----"
"That of me, indeed," said Bertha, turning very pale; "what can you have heard of me?"
"I have heard that which shows me your true character. My mother never received those post-office orders. I gave you three sovereigns to change into postoffice orders for my mother, and she--she never had them; she never got any of my letters, she thought me cold, heartless, unfeeling--she, my mother, the one I love best in the world. You, you held back the letters, you kept the money--dare you deny it?"
"Oh, dear, what a fuss!" said Bertha. "But you can act just as you please, Florence; you can go down and tell all about me. Of course, having done so, my career will be ruined."
"What do you mean? What did you do?--speak, speak! Oh, this is driving me mad!"
"Calm yourself, my dear, and stay quiet; I won"t attempt to conceal the truth from you. I took the money; I wanted it very badly. Whether I wanted it more badly than your mother is a matter of not the smallest importance to me. I wanted it, and I took it. Let that suffice."
"And what do you think I shall do; do you think I will submit to this sort of thing?"
"You can please yourself. Of course, if you tell about me, I can tell about you. t.i.t for tat--you quite understand."
"Oh, I quite understand," said Florence.
She sank down on the nearest chair, her face had turned quite grey.
Miss Keys regarded her for a moment silently, then she went up and laid her hand on her shoulder.
"Come, Flo," she said, suddenly dropping on her knees by the unhappy girl"s side, "come, cheer up; don"t look so miserable. You and I are in the same boat and we must sink or swim together. If you support me I"ll support you. I can help you again and again, and think what I am doing for you to-night."
"Oh, I hate myself, I hate myself! I don"t think I can go through with it," said Florence.
"Then what do you mean to do?"
"Tell Sir John all before he begins. It is Kitty"s Scholarship--not mine; and how--how am I to take it?"
"Now this is utter folly," said Bertha, seriously alarmed at last, for if Florence were to develop a conscience, and a conscience of such a sensitive order, at this hour, all would indeed be lost as far as she was concerned.
"Come," she said, "think what it means. You love your mother; think of her position if you lose; and it was only three pounds, and I promise--there, I promise I"ll save it out of my salary; you shall have it back. Oh, don"t tell on me; I shall be ruined for ever; don"t--don"t--don"t!"
Bertha clasped her hands, the tears rose to her eyes--a bell was heard in the distance. It was the bell which was to summon the guests, the girls of the school, and the three compet.i.tors to the great hall.
"There, I must be going," said Florence, "but I am miserable. My head aches, I doubt if I can go through with this."
"You will feel quite different when you get downstairs," said Bertha, "and now cheer up; only just remember one thing. If you fail me I will fail you, and _vice versa_."
Florence did not dare to look back at Bertha; she left the room. There was a noise in her ears and a swimming before her eyes.
Bertha stood for a moment, looking after her retreating form.
"I am almost sorry I did not tell her at the time," she said to herself; "when she has accepted the Scholarship I shall be safe; but she has had a shock. There is no saying what a girl of that temperament may do under pressure; but there, I believe the excitement will carry her through, and I don"t believe for a moment she has the moral courage to stand the public disgrace which would be hers if she told now. Yes, she is in for it; she must go through with it."
Bertha patted her red hair and drew herself up to her full height, and presently accompanied the pupils down to the great hall, where they took their seats in the places allotted to them; excellent seats from the point of view, for they could see every single thing and were themselves to a certain extent in shadow.
The different guests had a.s.sembled, all beautifully dressed. Mrs.
Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less found themselves side by side. Mrs. Aylmer the great was in a magnificent robe of violet brocade, open at the throat, displaying a quant.i.ty of rich lace. On her head glittered diamonds, and her light eyes flashed as she glanced from time to time at Mrs. Aylmer the less.
"Really," she said to herself, "the one drawback in adopting Florence is that most unpleasant little woman. Where did she get that splendid silk from? But what airs she does put on; how vulgar she is!"
Mrs. Aylmer the great did not look particularly happy. She was most anxious to force herself into what she termed county society, and she found up to the present that, although she was the owner of a magnificent place like Aylmer Court, she was not taken much notice of by those people who were, as she expressed it, really in the swim. It was a great feather in her cap to be invited to Cherry Court Park, and if Sir John would only favor her with a little attention she might get more invitations in consequence.
If her niece was the lucky winner of the Scholarship all would undoubtedly go well with Mrs. Aylmer. She would be the aunt, practically the adopted mother, of the heroine, the girl on whom all eyes were fixed, Sir John"s special _protegee_, the Cherry Court School Scholarship girl. She could talk about Florence and her great abilities from time to time, and gently insinuate little hints with regard to the girl"s unfortunate position and her great kindness in adopting her. Thus people would think her a most good-natured woman as well as a very rich one, the aunt of a girl of undoubted genius--yes, a great deal might follow in the train of such consequences.
Mrs. Aylmer the less on this occasion had many wild and exciting thoughts with regard to Miss Pratt and the other neighbors at Dawlish, also with regard to Sukey; but still, her thought above all other thoughts was the consciousness that soon her beloved child would be done honor to, and her eyes, silly enough in expression, were now so full of love that many people thought her a good-natured and pleasant-looking woman, and in reality gave her far kinder thoughts than they did to Mrs. Aylmer the great, whose cold face would never shine with any human feeling, and whose motives could be easily read by the proud county folk.
As Florence slowly entered the room, accompanied by Kitty and Mary, a little buzz of applause greeted the three graceful girls as, in their Greek costumes, they glided slowly forward and took their places at the little desks placed for them. Florence for one wild moment glanced at her mother, and the love and longing and delight in the little Mummy"s face did more to reconcile her present evil plight than anything else.
"There," she whispered under her breath, "in for a penny, in for a pound. I cannot break the heart of the little Mummy--I can"t--I won"t."
A peculiar expression stole round her lips, her eyes grew feverishly bright, she looked handsome, and Mrs. Aylmer the great felt justly very proud of her.
"She is tall, her figure is improving every day; she will be a very good-looking girl by and by--what is more, a stylish one," thought Aunt Susan.
But most of the guests scarcely looked at Florence, for their eyes were attracted by the sweet expression, the inimitable grace of Kitty Sharston.
Florence"s cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes so bright that they looked dark as night; but Kitty, equally excited, her heart beating, every nerve highly strung, only showed her excitement by a dewy look in the great big grey eyes, and a wild-rose bloom on the delicate cheeks.
Mary"s downright appearance did not attract comment one way or the other. All three were p.r.o.nounced nice-looking, ladylike girls, and now the guests bent forward to listen to the _viva voce_ examination, which immediately began.
CHAPTER XX.
"THE HILLS FOR EVER."
The examination began and was continued amidst a profound silence on the part of all the spectators. Necks were craned forward and ears were at attention point. When Florence answered a question correctly Mrs. Aylmer the less nodded her little head until the plumes which she wore in her hair quivered all over. Mrs. Aylmer the great bridled and glanced with her cold eyes at the proudest of the county folk, as much as to say, "There"s genius for you."
Mary Bateman"s father, who sat very near Mrs. Aylmer the less, smiled also when Florence made a correct answer, and looked with sympathy at little Mrs. Aylmer; and when his own child Mary scored a point, as he expressed it, a gratified flush rose to his old cheeks, and he dropped his eyes, not caring to look at the girl whom he loved best in the world.
But when to question after question Kitty Sharston gave a correct reply, the _furore_ and excitement in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of several of the spectators rose to the highest pitch, for Kitty"s soft voice, her gentle answers, her correct and lady-like utterances impressed everyone favorably. Then, too, it was an open secret that she was Sir John"s favorite; it had been whispered by more than one visitor to another that it was on account of Kitty Sharston that this great fuss had been made, that the Scholarship had been opened to the compet.i.tion of the school, that the girls were here, that they themselves were here--it was all on account of this slim little girl with the big eyes and the sweet pathetic face; and reminiscences of Sir John and Kitty"s father together side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in the trenches before Sebastopol arose in the memory of one or two visitors present.
It was undoubtedly the wish of the guests who were a.s.sembled at Cherry Court Park that night that Kitty should be the successful winner. And now there were strong, more than strong hopes that such would be the case, for although Florence"s answers were full of spirit and invariably correct, there seemed to those who listened to be a background of substantial knowledge behind Kitty"s grave remarks.
Miss Helen Dartmoor sat bolt upright, her lips firmly compressed, and a disapproving expression in her eyes; but Miss Helen Dartmoor did not count. It was Sir John, whose eyes followed his favorite with keener and keener appreciation and admiration; it was Mrs. Clavering; it was also most of the girls themselves, for beyond doubt Kitty was the favorite. If she won the Scholarship it would give universal satisfaction.