a little
more, but another essay I must have, and in twenty-four hours from the
present time."

"And suppose I refuse?"

"In that case, Miss Aylmer, I shall be driven to conclude that your
talent was but fictitious, and that--"

"That I am a humbug?" said Florence. A look came into her eyes which he
could not quite fathom. It was a hungry look. They lit up for a moment,
then faded, then an expression of resolve crept round her lips.

"I will write something," she said; "but give me two days instead of
one."

"What do you mean by two days?"

"I cannot let you have it to-morrow evening; you shall have it the
evening after. It shall be good; it shall be my best. Give me time."

"That's right," he said, grasping her hand. "Upon my word you gave me a
horrid fright. Don't play that sort of trick again, that's all. We are
to have that article, then, in two days?"

"Yes, yes."

He left her. The moment he had done so Florence snatched up the paper
which he had brought back, tore it into a hundred fragments, thrust the
fragments into the fire, and rushed downstairs. She herself was
desperate now. She went to the nearest telegraph-office and sent the
following message to Bertha Keys:--

"Expect me at Aylmer's Court to-morrow at ten. Must see you. You can
manage so that my aunt does not know."

CHAPTER XXX.

THE TELEGRAM.

The Sharstons and Sir John Wallis were enjoying themselves very much at
Aylmer's Court. Mrs. Aylmer exerted herself to be specially agreeable.
She could, when she liked, put aside her affected manner: she could open
out funds of unexpected knowledge: she at least knew her own country
well: she took her guests to all sorts of places of local interest: she
had the best of the neighbours to dine in the evenings: she had good
music and pleasant recitations and round games for the young folks, and
dancing on more than one occasion in the great hall. The time passed on
wings, and the three guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Both Trevor and Bertha were greatly responsible for this happy state of
things. Bertha, having quickly discovered that Kitty would not betray
her secret, resumed that manner which had always made her popular.
Bertha, in reality one of the most selfish women who ever lived--who had
wrecked more lives than one in the course of her unscrupulous
career--could be to all appearance the most absolutely unselfish. In
great things she was selfish to the point of cruelty; in li