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."