so.

"It was a narrow shave," she said to herself; "this had to be. If she
took it in one way all was lost; but she won't take it in that dreadful
way: she will protect me for her own sake. The girl who could stoop to
deceit, who could use my assistance to gain her own ends six years ago,
is not immaculate now. I can use her in the future; she will be
extremely useful in many ways, and my secret is absolutely safe."

So Bertha leant back against the bench, crossed one prettily-shod foot
over the other, and looked out across the summer sea. Presently Florence
spoke in a low tone.

"Good-bye," she said. She rose as she uttered the words.

"Why do you say that? Sit down again. We have come to no terms."

"We cannot come to any," answered Florence, in still that low, almost
heart-broken voice. Then, all of a sudden, without the least warning,
she burst into tears.

"You bring the past back to me, Bertha," she said: "the hateful past."

"It is very silly of you indeed to cry," said Bertha; "and as to the
past, goodness knows it is dead and buried deep enough unless you choose
to dig it out of its grave. Leave it alone, Florence, and come to terms
with me. Now, for goodness' sake stop crying!"

"I won't tell of you just at present," said Florence; "that is the only
thing I can say now." Once more she rose.

"You had Kitty Sharston with you this morning," continued Bertha. "She
recognised me too, did she not?"

"Yes, we both recognised you."

"I never did anything particular to injure her; I mean, everything came
right for her," continued Bertha; "she could scarcely interfere. It is
you whom I dread. You and your mother between you can do me harm; but,
after all, even at your very worst I may not be deprived of my present
comfortable home and my delightful future. But I do not choose to run
the risk, so you must promise that you won't betray me."

"Does mother know that Mrs. Aylmer--that Aunt Susan is staying at
Dawlish?" continued Florence.

"She probably knows it by this time. Mrs. Aylmer has written her a note
asking her to call to see her. She won't see you, so don't imagine it."

"I don't want to see her."

"Before your mother accepts that invitation, I want you to secure her
silence; or, stay," continued Bertha briskly, "I will see her myself."
She thought for a moment over a new idea which had come to her. Her lips
then broke into smiles.

"How stupid of me!" she said. "I never thought of your mother