CHAPTER XXXVIII.
AT THE RECEPTION.
The guests were all interesting, and the room sufficiently large not tobe overcrowded. Franks seemed to watch Florence, guarding her againsttoo much intrusion, but at the same time he himself kept her amused. Hetold her who the people were. As he did so, he watched her face. Shestill wore that becoming colour, and her eyes were still bright. She hadlost that heavy apathetic air which had angered Franks more than once.He noticed, however, that she watched the door, and as fresh arrivalswere announced her eyes brightened for an instant, and then grewperceptibly dull. He knew she was watching for Trevor, and he cursedTrevor in his heart.
"She is in love with him. What fools women are!" muttered Franks tohimself. "If she married a man like that--a rich man with all that moneycould give--her literary career would be ended. I have had the pleasureof introducing her to the public; she is my treasure-trove, my onebright particular star. She shall not shine for anyone else. That greatgift of hers shall be improved, shall be strengthened, shall bemultiplied ten-thousandfold. I will not give her up. I love her justbecause she is clever: because she is a genius. If she had not thatdivine fire, she would be as nothing and worse than nothing to me. Asit is, the world shall talk of her yet."
Presently Trevor and his mother arrived, and it seemed to Florence thatsome kind of wave of sympathy immediately caused his eyes to light uponher in her distant corner. He said a few words to his hostess, watchedhis mother as she greeted a chance acquaintance, and elbowed his way toher side.
"This is good luck," he said; "I did not expect to see you hereto-night." He sat down by her, and Franks was forced to seekentertainment elsewhere.
Florence expected that after the way she had treated Trevor early thatday he would be cold and distant; but this was not the case. He seemedto have read her agitation for what it was worth. Something in her eyesmust have given him a hint of the truth. He certainly was not angry now.He was sympathetic, and the girl thought, with a great wave of comfort:"He does not like me because I am supposed to be clever. He likes me forquite another reason: just for myself. But why did not he tell me sobefore--before I fell a second time? It is all hopeless now, of course;and yet is it hopeless? Perhaps Maurice Trevor is the kind of man whowould forgive. I wonder!"
She looked up at him as the thought came to her, and his eyes met hers.
"What are you thinking about?" he said. They had been talking a lot ofcommonplaces; now his voice dropped; if he could, he would have takenher hand. They were as much alone in that crowd as though they had beenthe only people in the room.
"What are you thinking of?" he repeated.
"Of you," said Florence.
"Perhaps you are sorry for some of the things you said this morning?"
"I am sorry," she answered gravely, "that I was obliged to say them."
"But why were you obliged?"
"I have a secret; it was because of that secret I was obliged."
"You will tell it to me, won't you?"
"I cannot."
Trevor turned aside. He did not speak at all for a moment.
"I must understand you somehow," he said then; "you are surrounded bymystery, you puzzle me, you pique my curiosity. I am not curious aboutsmall things as a rule, but this is not a small thing, and I have agreat curiosity as to the state of your heart, as to the state ofyour--"
"My morals," said Florence slowly; "of my moral nature--you are not sureof me, are you?"
"I am sure that, bad or good--and I know you are not bad--you are theonly woman that I care for. May I come and see you to-morrow?"
"Don't talk any more now; you upset me," said Florence.
"May I come and see you to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"Remember, if I come, I shall expect you to tell me everything?"
"Yes."
"You will?"
"I am not certain; I can let you know when you do come."
"Thank you; you have lifted a great weight from my heart."
A moment later Franks appeared with a very learned lady, a MissMelchister, who asked to be introduced to Florence.
"I have a crow to pluck with you, Miss Aylmer," she said.
"What is that?" asked Florence.
"How dare you give yourself and your sisters away? Do you know that youwere very cruel when you wrote that extremely clever paper in the_General Review_?"
"I don't see it," replied Florence. Her answers were lame. MissMelchister prepared herself for the fray.
"We will discuss the point," she said. "Now, why did you say--"
Trevor lingered near for a minute. He observed that Florence's cheekshad turned pale, and he thought that for such a clever girl she spoke ina rather ignorant way.
"How queer she is!" he said to himself; "but never mind, she will tellme all to-morrow. I shall win her; it will be my delight to guard her,to help her, and if necessary to save her. She is under someone's thumb;but I will find out whose."
His thoughts travelled to Bertha Keys. He remembered that strange timewhen he met Florence at the railway station at Hamslade. Why had shespent the day there? Why had Bertha sent her a parcel? He feltdisturbed, and he wandered into another room. This was the library ofthe house. Some papers were lying about. Amongst others was the firstnumber of the _General Review_. With a start Trevor took it up. He wouldlook through Florence's article. That clever paper had been largelycriticised already; but, strange to say, he had not read it. He sankinto a chair and read it slowly over. As he did so, his heart beat atfirst loud, then with heavy throbs. A look of pain, perplexity, andweariness came into his eyes. One sentence in particular he read notonly once, but twice, three times. It was a strange sentence; itcontained in it the germ of a very poisonous thought. In these few wordswas the possibility of a faith being undermined, and a hope beingdestroyed. It puzzled him. He had the queer feeling that he had read itbefore. He repeated it to himself until he knew it by heart. Then he putthe paper down, and soon afterwards he went to his mother, and told herhe was going home.
"I will send a brougham for you; I am not very well," he said.
She looked into his face, and was distressed at the expression she sawin his eyes.
"All right, Maurice dear; I shall be ready in an hour. I just want tomeet a certain old friend, and to talk to that pretty girl Miss Aylmer.I will find out why she does not come to see us."
"Don't worry her. I would rather you didn't," said Trevor.
His mother looked at him again, and her heart sank.
"Is it possible he has proposed for her, and she will not accept him?"thought the mother; and then she drew her proud little head up, and afeeling of indignation filled her heart. If Florence was going to treather boy, the very light of her eyes, cruelly, she certainly need expectno mercy from his mother.