CHAPTER XIX.
IN THE BALANCE.
The moment Edith saw Florence, she went up to her, seized her by thearm, and said, in an imperious voice: "You must come with me to my roomimmediately."
"But why?" asked Miss Aylmer, trying to release herself from the firmgrip in which Edith Franks held her.
"Because I have something most important to tell you."
Florence did not reply. She had been cheered and comforted by her drive,and she found that Edith Franks, with all her kindness, had a mostirritating effect upon her. There was nothing for it, however, but tocomply, and the two went upstairs as far as the third story together.There they entered Edith's sitting-room. She pushed Florence down on thesofa, and, still keeping a hand on each of her shoulders, saidemphatically: "Tom: read it."
"What do you mean?" was Florence's almost inane answer.
"How stupid you are!" Edith gave her a little shake. "When I amexcited--I to whom it means practically nothing, why should not you be?Tom read it, and he means to show it to his chief. You are made, and Ihave made you. Kiss me; let me congratulate you. You will starve nolonger; you will have plenty. What is more, you will have fame. You willbe courted by the great; you have an honourable future in front of you.Look up! Lose that lack-lustre expression in your eyes. Oh, goodgracious! the girl is ill." For Florence had turned ghastly white.
"This is a case for a doctor," said Edith Franks; "lie down--that isbetter." She pulled the cushions away from the sofa and pushed Florenceinto a recumbent position.
"I have some sal volatile here; you must drink it."
Edith rushed across the room, took the necessary bottle from her medicalshelf, prepared a dose, and brought it to the half-fainting girl.
Florence sipped it slowly. The colour came back into her cheeks, and hereyes looked less dazed.
"Now you are more yourself. What was the matter with you?"
"But you--you have not given it; he--he has not shown it--"
"You really are most provoking," said Miss Franks. "I don't know why Itake so much trouble for you--a stranger. I have given you what wouldhave taken you months to secure for yourself: the most valuableintroduction into the very best quarter for the disposal of your wares.Oh, you are a lucky girl. But there, you shall dine with me to-night."
"I cannot."
"Too proud, eh?"
"Oh, you don't know my position," said poor Florence.
"Nonsense! Go up to your room and have a rest. I will come for you in aquarter of an hour. I have ordered dinner for two already. If you don'teat it, it will be thrown away."
"I am afraid it will have to be thrown away! I--I don't feel well."
"You are a goose; but if you are ill, you shall stay here and I willnurse you."
"No; I think I'll go upstairs. I want to be alone."
Florence staggered across the room as she spoke. Edith Franks looked ather for a moment in a puzzled way.
"I shall expect you down to dinner," she said. "Dinner will be ready ina quarter of an hour. Mind, I shall expect you."
Florence made no answer. She slowly left the room, closing the doorafter her, and retired to her own apartment.
Edith Franks clasped both her hands to her head.
"Well, really," she thought, "why should I put myself out about anungrateful girl of that sort? But there, she is deeply interesting: oneof those strange vagaries of genius. She is a psychological study,beyond doubt. I must see plenty of her. I have a great mind to take uppsychology as my special branch of the profession; it is so deeply, soappallingly interesting. Poor girl, she has great genius! When thatstory is published all the world will know. I never saw Tom so excitedabout anything. He said: 'There is stuff in this.' He said it after hehad read a page; he said it again when he had gone half-way through themanuscript; and he clapped his hands at the end and said: 'Bravo!' Iknow what that means from Tom. He is the most critical of men. Hedistrusts everything until it has proved itself good, and yet heaccepted the talent of that story without a demur."
Miss Franks hurriedly moved about the room, changed her dress, smoothedher hair, washed her hands, looked at her little gun-metal watch, sawthat the quarter of an hour had expired, and tripped downstairs to thedining-room.
"Will she be there, or will she not?" thought Edith Franks to herself.
She looked eagerly into the great room with its small tables coveredwith white cloths. There were seats in the dining-room for one hundredand fifty people.
Edith Franks, however, looked over to a certain corner, and there, atone of the tables, quietly waiting for her, and also neatly dressed, satFlorence Aylmer.
"That is right," said Miss Franks; "you are coming to your senses."
"Yes," answered Florence, "I am coming to my senses."
There was a bright flush on each of her cheeks, and her eyes werebrilliant: she looked almost handsome.
Edith gazed at her with admiration.
"So you are drinking in the delicious flattery: you are preparing forthe fame which awaits you," said the medical student.
"I want to say one thing, Miss Franks," remarked Florence, bendingforward.
"What is that?"
"When you came up this morning to my room I did not wish to give you themanuscript; you took it from me almost by force. You promised furtherthat your brother's seeing it would mean nothing. You did not keep yourword. Your brother has seen it, and, from what you tell me, he approvesof it. From what you tell me further, he is going to show it in acertain quarter where its success will be more or less assured. Ofcourse, you and he may be both mistaken, and after all the story whichyou think so highly of may be worth nothing; that remains to be proved."
"It is worth a great deal; the world will talk about it," said EdithFranks.
"But I don't want the world to talk of it," said Florence. "I didn'twish to be pushed and hurried as I have been. I did wrong to consultyou, and yet I know you meant to be kind. You have not been kind: youhave been the reverse; but you have _meant_ to be kind, and I thank youfor your intention. Things must go their own way. I have been hardpressed and I have yielded; only please do not ask me to talk about it.When your brother receives news I shall be glad to know; but even then Iwant to hear the fate of the manuscript without comment from you. Thatis what I ask. If you will promise that, I will accept your dinner. I amvery proud, and it pains me to accept charity from anyone; but I willaccept your dinner and be grateful to you: only will you promise not totalk of the manuscript any more?"
"Certainly, my dear," answered Edith Franks. "Have a potato, won't you?"
As Edith helped Florence to a floury potato, she exclaimed, under herbreath: "A little mad, poor girl: a most interesting psychologicalstudy."