him my invitation?"
"I told him he was not to accept it," said Florence. "Oh, dear me, mother, don't be silly. But, I say, what a nice lobster, and I am so hungry."
CHAPTER VII.
THE CHAINS BEGIN TO FRET
Meanwhile Trevor went slowly back to the hotel. He had enjoyed his talk with Florence; he liked her brusque way, she did not flatter him, and she was, he considered, a particularly attractive-looking girl. In Mrs. Aylmer's society he was made a great deal of and fussed over, and when that happens to a young man he always enjoys the sort of girl who snubs him by way of contrast. He thought Mrs. Aylmer the less one of the most extraordinary women he had ever met; but as he liked Florence, and was in the mood for a bit of an adventure, he would gladly have accepted her mother's invitation to supper if she had not tabooed it.
"You are not to come," said Florence, looking at him with her wide-open frank dark eyes; "mother is the soul of hospitality, but we are very poor: we have nothing proper to give you for supper, and I for one would much rather you did not come."
"I do not in the least mind what I eat," he said, in a somewhat pleading tone, and he looked full at Florence with his blue eyes.
"Nevertheless, you are not to come; it is only my mother's way: she always goes on like that with strangers. I never allow people to accept her invitations."
After this there was nothing more to be said, and Florence and Trevor bade each other a very friendly good-bye.
When Trevor reached the "Crown and Garter" he found that Mrs. Aylmer and Miss Keys were already at dinner. They had both wondered where he was, and Bertha Keys had been a little anxious and a little uneasy. When he came in, the faces of both ladies brightened.
"What makes you so late?" said Mrs. Aylmer, looking up at him.
"I had a bit of an adventure," he said. He drew his chair to the table. "There was a slight chance of my not coming in to supper at all," he continued. "I met that charming little lady who visited you to-day, Mrs. Aylmer."
"What?" said Mrs. Aylmer, dropping her knife and fork.
"I met her again, and she introduced me to her daughter and to another young lady who is staying with them. By the way, they are your relations, so the little lady told me, and she was very hospitable, and invited me to supper, and I should have been very glad to go if the young lady had not told me that I must not accept her mother's invitation."
Now, these remarks were anything but agreeable to Mrs. Aylmer, and still less did they suit Bertha Keys. Neither lady said anything, however, at the present moment, but each glanced at the other. After a time, Mrs. Aylmer stretched out her hand and touched Trevor on his sleeve.
"I am sorry you have made the acquaintance of Miss Florence Aylmer," she said.
"Sorry? Why?" he asked. "I consider her a remarkably nice girl."
"I regret to have to inform you that she is anything but a nice girl. I will tell you about her another time. It is quite contrary to my wishes that you should have anything to do with her: you understand?"
Trevor flushed. He had a way of looking annoyed at times, and he looked annoyed now. His silken chains sometimes fretted him a great deal. He often wondered whether he had done right in allowing himself to become Mrs. Aylmer's adopted son. Bertha, however, gave him a warning glance, and he said nothing.
Presently dinner was over, and Bertha beckoned to him to join her on the balcony.
"Shall we go out on the sands?" she said. "I have something I want to say to you."
"But Mrs. Aylmer has something to say to me also – something about that particularly nice girl, Miss Florence Aylmer."
"She will not say it to you to-night; she has a headache, and I persuaded her to go early to bed. I quite sympathise with you, too, about Florence; she is one of my greatest friends."
Trevor gave Bertha a grateful glance.
"I am so glad you like her," he said. "I was never yet mistaken about anyone, and I took to her frank ways. She looks like the sort of girl who will never deceive you."
Bertha gave a peculiar smile, which vanished almost as soon as it visited her face.
"Shall we meet, say, in twenty minutes," she said, "just by the pier? I must see Mrs. Aylmer to bed; but I can join you then."
"Very well," he answered.
Bertha left the balcony, and Trevor, lighting a cigar, tried to soothe his somewhat ruffled feelings. He had never liked Mrs. Aylmer less than he did at that moment.
"It is horrid when a woman runs down a girl," he said to himself; "such bad form, and, as to this girl, it is impossible Mrs. Aylmer can know anything against her."
Presently he looked at his watch, and prepared to keep his appointment with Bertha. He liked Bertha Keys very much; she was always jolly and good-tempered, and she often tried to smooth over matters when there was any little difference between himself and Mrs. Aylmer. When he reached the pier he found her waiting for him. It was a moonlight night, and the young couple began to pace up and down.
"What is it?" he said at last. "Have you anything special to say?"
"I know you are in a bad humour, and I am not surprised," she said.
"Listen, Miss Keys," said Trevor. He dropped his cigar, and turned and faced her. "I often feel that I cannot stand this sort of thing much longer: it is like being in chains. I would much rather talk the matter out with Mrs. Aylmer, tell her I am very much obliged to her for her kind intentions with regard to me, but that I would sooner carve out my own career in life and be indebted to no one."
"And how silly that would be!" said Bertha. "But what do you want Mrs. Aylmer to do?"
"To let me go. I feel like a captive in her train; it is not manly. I never felt more annoyed than when she spoke to me as she did this evening. It is horrid when a woman abuses a girl – such bad taste."
"You know how peculiar she is," said Bertha; "but you suit her better than anyone I know. You want her to give you money to allow you to live in town. I am sure I can manage it. I quite understand that you must hate being tied to her apron-strings."
"It is detestable," said the young man; "and if it were not for my own mother, who seems so happy about me, and so grateful to Mrs. Aylmer, I should break with her to-morrow."
"I quite sympathise with you," said Bertha. "You must have money, and you must go to town. You want to read for the Bar: I will see that it is arranged. Mrs. Aylmer is rich, but not rich enough for you to live all your life in idleness. It would break her heart now if you deserted her: she has gone through much."
"What do you mean?"
"I cannot tell you."
"Why does she dislike Miss Florence Aylmer?"
"I would rather not say."
"But she will tell me herself."
"I shall beg of her not to do so."
"By the way," said Trevor, after a pause, "is this girl Mrs. Aylmer's niece?"
"She is her niece by marriage. Mrs. Aylmer's husband
