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."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

MAURICE REBELS.

On the morning of the day when the guests were to depart Mrs. Aylmer,
having spent a long and almost restless night, sent for Trevor to her
room. He entered unwillingly. He had begun to dislike his tete-a-tete
with Mrs. Aylmer very much.

"Now, my dear boy, just sit down and let us have a cosy chat," said the
old lady.

T