Meade L. T. - The Time of Roses стр 19.

As they walked quickly back now, they were overtaken by a man who said to Florence: "I beg your pardon, but may I offer you this umbrella?"

Before she could reply, the stranger looked at Trevor and uttered an exclamation.

"Why, Tom!" cried Trevor. He shook hands heartily with him, and introduced him to Florence: "Mr. Franks Miss Aylmer."

"Aylmer?" said the young man; "are you called Florence Aylmer?" He looked full at the girl.

"Yes, and you have a sister called Edith Franks," she answered.

All the colour had left her face, her eyes were full of a sort of dumb entreaty. Trevor gazed at her in astonishment.

"You must come back and see my mother, Franks," he continued, turning again to the young man. "It is very kind of you to offer your umbrella to Miss Aylmer, but I think you must share it with her."

There was no help for it. Florence had to walk under Mr. Franks's umbrella; she had seldom found herself in a more awkward position.

"Of course," she thought, "he will speak of the manuscript."

She rushed recklessly into conversation in order to avoid this, but in vain. During the first pause Mr. Franks said: "I have good news for you, Miss Aylmer. I showed your story to my chief, Anderson, last night. I begged of him to read it at once. He did so to oblige me. He will take it for the Argonaut . I thought you would be glad. He wants you to call at the office to-morrow, when he will arrange terms with you. Forgive us, won't you, Trevor, for talking business; but it was such a chance, coming across Miss Aylmer like this, and I thought she would like to know as soon as possible what a great success she has made."

Trevor glanced at Florence in some astonishment.

"Does this mean that you write?" he said, "and that you have had an article accepted?"

"A very promising article accepted extremely willingly," said Franks. "Miss Aylmer deserves your hearty congratulations, Trevor. She is a very fortunate young lady indeed."

"I know I am, and I am grateful," said Florence.

Trevor again looked at her.

"She is not happy. What can be wrong?" he said to himself.

"Have you ever published anything before?" continued Franks.

"Never."

"Well, you are lucky. Your style I do not want to flatter you, but your style is quite formed. You must have been a very successful essay-writer at school."

"No, I never wrote much," said poor Florence. "I I hate writing," she said the next moment. The words burst impetuously from her lips.

"By all that's wonderful! what do you mean by that? Surely it would be absolutely impossible for anyone who hated writing to do so with your ease and fluency!"

"We are nearly home now, and Miss Aylmer seems very tired," said Trevor. "Will you come in, Franks?"

"No, thanks; I must be getting home. You will call at our office to-morrow, Miss Aylmer?"

"Thank you," said Florence; "at what hour?"

"I shall be in and will introduce you to my chief if you can come at twelve o'clock. Well, good-bye for the present." He raised his hat to Florence, favoured her with a keen glance, said good-bye to Trevor, and turned away.

"I must congratulate you," said Trevor, as the young man and the girl walked up the little path to the house.

"What for?" she asked.

She raised her eyes full of dumb misery to his face.

"For having won a success, and a very honourable one."

"Oh, don't ask me any more," she said; "please, please don't speak of it. I thought I should be so happy to-day."

"But does not this make you happy? I do not understand."

"It makes me terribly miserable. I cannot explain. Please don't ask me."

"I won't; only just let me say that, whatever it is, I am sorry for you."

He held out his hand. The next moment he had taken hers. Her hand, which had been trembling, lay still in his palm. He clasped his own strong, firm hand over it.

"I wish I could help you," he said, in a low voice, and then they both entered the house.

Mrs. Trevor, through the little latticed window in the tiny drawing-room, had witnessed this scene.

"What?" she said to herself. "Is my boy really falling in love with that nice, interesting, but unhappy girl? Of course, I shall not oppose him; but I almost wish it were not to be."

CHAPTER XXII. THE STORY ACCEPTED

Florence was seated by the open window, looking out. She was resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she gazed across the rose-garden. At that moment Trevor went quietly by. He stooped to pick one or two roses; then he turned and looked at Florence. Florence smiled very faintly, and a rush of colour came into Trevor's face. Mrs. Trevor then came up to Florence and spoke.

"I do it because my son wishes it," she said, "and I also do it because I take an interest in you. He has told me of your great success in the literary market. You, young and inexperienced, have had an article accepted by so great a magazine as the Argonaut . You scarcely know what an immense success you have won. I did not, of course, understand what your occupation in London was likely to be; but if you are to be a writer, why not come and live with me here? I have a nice little room which I can offer you, and this drawing-room will always be at your disposal, for I sit as a rule in my dining-room. You can go into town when you want to, and you will make me happy, and and I think Maurice would like it."