Chapter 39. An Admirable Arrangement

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_ CHAPTER XXXIX. AN ADMIRABLE ARRANGEMENT

Trevor took his departure, and the gay throng at Mrs. Simpson's laughed and joked and made merry.

Florence had now worked herself into apparent high spirits. She ceased to care whether she talked rubbish or not. She was no longer silent. Many people asked to be introduced to the rising star, and many people congratulated her. Instead of being modest, and a little stupid and retiring, she now answered back badinage with flippant words of her own. Her cleverness was such an established fact that her utter nonsense was received as wit, and she soon had throngs of men and women round her laughing at her words and privately taking note of them.

Franks all the while stood as a sort of bodyguard. He listened, and his cool judgment never wavered for a moment.

"I must give her a hint," he said to himself; "she requires training. That sort of sparkling, effervescent nonsense is in itself in as bad taste and is as poor as the essay she sent me when she played her great practical joke. She is playing a practical joke now on these people, leading them to believe that her chaff is wit."

He came up to her gravely in a pause in the conversation, and asked her if she would like to go in to supper. She laid her hand on his arm, and they threaded their way through the throng. They did not approach the supper-room, however. Franks led her into a small alcove just beside the greenhouse.

"Ah," he said, "I have been watching this place; couples have been in it the whole evening: couples making love, couples making arrangements for future work, couples of all sorts, and now this couple, you and I, find ourselves here. We are as alone as if we were on the top of Mont Blanc."

"What a funny simile!" said Florence. She laughed a little uneasily. "I thought," she continued, "you were going to take me in to supper."

"I will presently; I want first to ask you a question, and to say something to you."

"I am all attention," replied Florence.

"There is no use in beating about the bush," said Franks, after a pause. "The thing admits of either 'yes' or 'no.' Miss Aylmer, I take a great interest in you."

"Oh, don't, please," said Florence.

"But I do; I believe I can help you. I believe that you and I together can have a most brilliant career. Shall we work in harness? Shall we become husband and wife? Don't start; don't say no at first. Think it over: it would be an admirable arrangement."

"So it would," said Florence. Her answer came out quietly. She looked full into Franks's cold grey eyes, and burst into a mirthless laugh.

"Why do you look at me like that? Are you in earnest when you admit that it would be an admirable arrangement?"

"I am absolutely in earnest. Nothing could be more--more--"

"Let me speak. You are not in earnest. It is your good pleasure to take a great many things in life in a joking spirit. Now, for instance, when you sent me that bald, disgraceful, girlish essay, you played a practical joke which a less patient man would never have forgiven. To-night, when you talked that rubbish to that crowd of really clever men and women, you played another practical joke, equally unseemly."

"I am not a society person, Mr. Franks. I cannot talk well in company. You told me to talk, and I did the best I could."

"Your chatter was nearly brainless; the people who listened to you to-night won't put up with that sort of thing much longer. It is impossible with a mind of your order that you should really wish to talk nonsense. But I am not going to scold you. I want to know if you will marry me."

"If I will be your wife?" said Florence. "Why do you wish it?"

"I think it would be a suitable match."

"But do you love me?"

Franks paused when Florence asked him that direct question.

"I admire you very much," he said.

"That has nothing to do with it. Admiration is not enough to marry on. Do you love me?"

"I believe I shall love you."

"May I ask you a very plain question?"

"What is that?"

"If I were not very clever, if I did not write those smart stories and those clever papers, would you, just for myself, just for my face, and my heart, and my nature, would you desire me as your wife?"

"That is scarcely a fair thing to ask, for I should never have met you had you not been just what you are."

"Well, do you love me?" said Florence again.

"You are a very strange girl. I think on the whole I do love you. I fully expect to love you very much when you are my wife."

"Did you ever love anybody else better than you love me?"

"I didn't expect, Miss Aylmer, to be subjected to this sort of cross-questioning. There was once a girl--" A new note came into Franks's voice, and for the first time those eyes of his were softened.

"She died," he said softly; "you can never be jealous of her: she is in her grave. Had she lived we should have been married long ago. Don't let us talk of her to-night. You and I can have a brilliant career. Will you say 'yes'?"

"I cannot answer you to-night. You must give me time."

"Thank you; that is all I require. I am glad you will think it over. We can be married soon, for I have a good income. I want you to clearly understand that as my wife you continue writing. I want to lead you forth as one of the most brilliant women before the world. I can train you: will you submit to my training?"

Florence shivered slightly.

"I will let you know to-morrow," she said.

"Come, let us go and have supper," said Franks. He jumped up abruptly, offered Florence his arm, and took her into the supper-room.

The party broke up soon afterwards. Mrs. Trevor had no opportunity of seeing Florence, or, rather, she would not give herself an opportunity.

Mrs. Simpson shook hands with the young literary debutante with marked favour. Florence looked prettier than anyone had ever seen her look before. Franks took his sister and Florence home to their flat. As he parted from the latter, he ventured to give her hand a slight squeeze.

"I will call to-morrow morning," he said. "Can I see you before I go to my work?"

"Yes," said Florence; "I shall be at home at"--she paused a moment--"nine o'clock," she said somewhat eagerly.

"What! a rendezvous so early?" exclaimed Edith, with a laugh. Franks laughed also.

"Quite so, Edith," he said; "we are all busy people, and have no time to waste. This is merely a business arrangement between Miss Aylmer and myself."

"All right, Tom; I am sure I'm not going to interfere," said Edith. "Good-night. Come in, Miss Aylmer; it is very cold standing out in the street."

The girls entered the house, and went up to their respective rooms. Fires were burning brightly in each and the doors stood open.

"You will come into my room and have cocoa, will you not?" said Edith to Florence.

"No, thank you; not to-night."

Edith looked full at her.

"Has Tom proposed to you?" she said suddenly.

"I don't know why you should ask me that question."

"Your face answers me. You will be a fool if you accept him. He is not the man to make any woman happy. Don't tell him that I said it; but he is cold through and through. Only one woman, poor Lucy Leigh, who died before she was twenty, ever touched his heart. What heart he had is in her grave: you will never kindle it into life. Take him if you wish for success, but do not say that I never warned you."

Edith went into her room and slammed the door somewhat noisily behind her. Florence entered hers. The late post had brought a letter--one letter. She started when she saw the postmark, and a premonition of fresh trouble came over her. Then, standing by the fire, she slowly opened the envelope. The contents were as follows:--

"Aylmer's Court, Dec. 3rd.

"MY DEAR FLORENCE--

"I would come to see you, but am kept here by Mrs. Aylmer's indisposition. She has been seriously unwell and in the doctor's hands since Maurice Trevor left her in the disgraceful fashion he has done. He has nearly broken her heart, but I hope to have the solace of mending it. I wish to say now that from words dropped to Mrs. Aylmer it is highly probable that he has gone to town for the purpose of proposing to you. Accept him, of course, if you wish. It is likely, very likely, that you will return his affection, for he is an attractive man, and has a warm heart, and also a good one. I have nothing whatever to do with that, but clearly understand the moment the news reaches me that you are betrothed to Maurice Trevor, on that very day I shall tell Mrs. Aylmer the whole truth with regard to the stories which are running in the Argonaut and the paper which has already appeared in the General Review. I do not mind whether I go under or not; but you shall be seen in your true colours before ever you become the wife of Maurice Trevor.

"Yours faithfully--and faithful I shall be in that particular--BERTHA KEYS."

_

Read next: Chapter 40. Is It "Yes" Or "No"?

Read previous: Chapter 38. At The Reception

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