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The Time of Roses, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 33. A Tete-A-Tete |
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_ CHAPTER XXXIII. A TETE-A-TETE Kitty Sharston, in the softest of white dresses, was playing Trevor's accompaniments at the grand piano. He had a beautiful voice--a very rich tenor. Kitty herself had a sweet and high soprano. The two now sang together. The music proceeded, broken now and then by snatches of conversation. No one was specially listening to the young pair, although some eyes were watching them. In a distant part of the room Sir John Wallis and Mrs. Aylmer were having a tete-a-tete. "I like him," said Sir John. "You are lucky in having secured so worthy an heir for your property." "You don't like him better than I like your adopted child, Miss Sharston," was Mrs. Aylmer's low answer. "Ay, she is a sweet girl--no one like her in the world," said Sir John. "I almost grudge her to her father, much as I love him. We were comrades on the battle-field, you know. Perhaps he has told you that story." "I have heard it, but not from him," said Mrs. Aylmer, with a smile. "Your friendship for each other is quite of the David and Jonathan order. And so, my good friend"--she laid her white hand for an instant on Sir John's arm--"you are going to leave your property to your favourite Kitty?" Sir John frowned; then he said shortly: "I see no reason for denying the fact. Kitty Sharston, when it pleases God to remove me, will inherit my wealth." "She is a sweet, very sweet girl," replied Mrs. Aylmer. She glanced down the room; there was significance in her eyes. Sir John followed her look. Kitty and Trevor had now stopped all music. Trevor was talking in a low tone to the girl; Kitty's head was slightly bent and she was pulling a white chrysanthemum to pieces. "I wonder what he is saying to her?" thought Mrs. Aylmer. Then all of a sudden she made up her mind. "I should like it," she said aloud; "I should like it much." Sir John started, and a slight accession of colour came into his ruddy cheeks. "What do you mean?" he said. "Have you never thought of it? It is right for the young to marry. This would be a match after my own heart. Would it please you?" "It would, if it were God's will," said Sir John emphatically. He looked again at the pair by the piano, and then across the long room to Colonel Sharston. Colonel Sharston was absorbed in a game of chess with Bertha Keys. He was noticing nothing but the intricacies of the game. "All the same," added Sir John, "her father and I are in no hurry to see Kitty settled in life. She is most precious to us both; we should scarcely know ourselves without her." "Oh, come now, I call that selfish," said Mrs. Aylmer; "a pretty girl must find her true mate, and there is nothing so happy as happy married life." "Granted, granted," said Sir John. "You and I, Sir John, are not so young as we used to be. It would be nice for us to see those we love united: to feel that whatever storms life may bring they will bear them together. But say nothing to Colonel Sharston on the subject yet. I am glad to feel that when my son, as I always called Maurice, proposes for your daughter, as you doubtless think Kitty, there will be no objection on your part." "None whatever, except that I shall be sorry to lose her. I have a great admiration for Trevor; he is a man quite after my own heart." Soon afterwards Sir John Wallis moved away. Mrs. Aylmer, having sown the seed she desired to sow, was satisfied. From time to time the old man watched the pretty, bright-eyed girl. During the rest of the evening Trevor scarcely left her side; they had much to talk over, much in common. Mrs. Aylmer was in the highest spirits. "This is exactly what I want," she said to herself; "but I can see, for some extraordinary reason, that notwithstanding his attentions, Maurice has not fallen in love with that remarkably sweet girl. Whom has he given his heart to? If I thought for a single moment that Bertha was playing that game, I should dismiss her with a month's salary. But no: she would not dare. She is a clever woman and invaluable to me, and there is no saying what clever women will not think of; but I do not believe even Bertha would go as far as that, and I warned her too. For some reason Maurice is not often with Bertha just now. Yes, I must bring things to an issue. The Sharstons and Sir John leave on Monday. Maurice must make up his mind to propose to Miss Sharston almost immediately afterwards. He can follow them to Southsea, where they have taken a house for the winter." Mrs. Aylmer was quite cheerful as she thought over this. "We will have a grand wedding in the spring," she said to herself, "and Kitty shall come and live with me. I need not keep Bertha Keys when Kitty is always in the house. Kitty would suit me much better. I seldom saw a girl I liked more thoroughly." Meanwhile Kitty Sharston and her companion, little guessing the thoughts which were passing through the minds of their elders, were busily talking over the one subject which now occupied all Trevor's thoughts. Like bees round a flower, these thoughts drew nearer and nearer every moment to the subject of Florence Aylmer. Whenever Trevor was silent or distrait Kitty would speak of Florence, and his attention was instantly arrested. He began to talk in cheerful and animated tones. Incidents of Florence's life at school always made him laugh. He was glad to hear of her small triumphs, which Kitty related to him with much naivete. This evening, after a longer pause than usual, during which Kitty tore her chrysanthemum to pieces, and Mrs. Aylmer was quite certain that Maurice was saying something very tender and suitable, Trevor broke the silence by saying abruptly: "You have doubtless all sorts of prizes and competitions in your school life. Was Miss Aylmer ever remarkable for the excellence of her essays and themes?" "Ever remarkable for the excellence of her essays or themes?" said Kitty. Before she could reply, Bertha, whose game was over, and who had just given an emphatic checkmate to her enemy, strolled across the room. She stood near the piano and could overhear the two; Kitty's eyes met hers, and Kitty's cheeks turned pale. "I don't think she was specially remarkable for the excellence of her writing," said Kitty then, in a low voice. "You surprise me. Such talent as she now possesses must have been more or less inherent in her even as a child." "It does not always follow," said Bertha, suddenly joining in the conversation. "I presume you are both talking of your favourite heroine, Florence Aylmer. But you remember an occasion, however, Miss Sharston, when Florence Aylmer did receive much applause for a carefully-worded essay." "I do," said Kitty; "how dare you speak of it?" She rose to her feet in ungovernable excitement, her eyes blazed, her cheeks were full of colour. Another instant and she might have blurted out all the truth, and ruined Bertha for ever, had not that young lady laid her hand on her arm. "Hush!" she whispered; "be careful what you say. Remember you injure her. Mr. Trevor, I think I see Mrs. Aylmer beckoning to you." Mrs. Aylmer was doing nothing of the kind; but Trevor was obliged to go to her. Kitty soon subsided on her seat. "Why did you say that?" she said. "Can you not guess? I wanted to save the situation. Why should poor Florence be suspected of having written badly when she was young? It is much more natural for you, who are her true friend, to uphold her and to allow people to think that the great talent which she now possesses was always in evidence. I spoke no less than the truth. That essay of hers was much commented on and loudly applauded." "Oh, you know you have told a lie--the worst sort of lie," said Kitty. "Oh, what am I to say? Sometimes I hate you." "I know you hate me, but you have no cause to. I am quite on your side." "I don't understand you; but I will not talk to you any further." Kitty rose, crossed the room, and sat down by her father. "She is a very nice girl; far too good to be thrown away on him," thought Bertha to herself. "I admire her as I admire few people. She was always steadfast of purpose and pure of soul, and will be a charming wife for a man who loves her, some day; but she is not for Maurice Trevor. He does not care that for her! Yes, I know the old folks are plotting and planning; but all their plots and plans will come to nothing. There will be a fine fracas soon, and I must see, whatever happens, that my bread is well buttered." _ |
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