CHAPTER XXII.
THE STORY ACCEPTED.
Tea was ready prepared. The sun came out after the heavy shower, andFlorence found the Trevors even more kind and agreeable than they hadbeen at lunch. When the meal was over, Trevor called his mother out ofthe room. He spoke to her for a few moments alone, and then shere-entered the little drawing-room.
Florence was seated by the open window, looking out. She was resting herchin on the palm of her hand as she gazed across the rose-garden. Atthat moment Trevor went quietly by. He stooped to pick one or two roses;then he turned and looked at Florence. Florence smiled very faintly, anda rush of colour came into Trevor's face. Mrs. Trevor then came up toFlorence and spoke.
"I do it because my son wishes it," she said, "and I also do it becauseI take an interest in you. He has told me of your great success in theliterary market. You, young and inexperienced, have had an articleaccepted by so great a magazine as the _Argonaut_. You scarcely knowwhat an immense success you have won. I did not, of course, understandwhat your occupation in London was likely to be; but if you are to be awriter, why not come and live with me here? I have a nice little roomwhich I can offer you, and this drawing-room will always be at yourdisposal, for I sit as a rule in my dining-room. You can go into townwhen you want to, and you will make me happy, and--and I think Mauricewould like it."
As Mrs. Trevor spoke she looked full at the girl, and Florence foundherself trembling and even colouring as Trevor's name was mentioned.
"Will you think over it, my dear," said Mrs. Trevor, "and let me know?"
"I will think over it and let you know. You are very kind to me. Iscarcely know how to thank you enough," replied Florence.
"As to the terms," continued Mrs. Trevor, "they would be very moderate.My cottage is my own, and I have few expenses. I could take you in andmake you comfortable for fifteen shillings a week."
"Oh!" said Florence. She thought of that money which was getting dailyless. She looked into the lovely garden and her heart swelled withinher. Her first impulse was to throw her arms round Mrs. Trevor's neck:to say it would be peace, comfort, and happiness to live with her. Shewould save money, and her worst anxieties would be removed. But sherestrained herself. There was a heavy weight pressing against her heart,and even the widow's kindness scarcely touched her.
"I will let you know. You are more than kind," she said.
A moment afterwards she had said good-bye to Mrs. Trevor, and Mauriceand she were hurrying down the hill to meet the omnibus which was toconvey the girl back to Prince's Mansions.
"My mother has told you what we both wish?" he said. "To be honest withyou, I feel that we owe you something. I am usurping your place; I cannever get over that fact."
"I wish you wouldn't think of it, for it is not the truth," saidFlorence. "I have told you already that even if you did not exist Ishould never inherit a farthing of my aunt's money, and what is more,"she added, the crimson dyeing her cheeks, "I wouldn't take it if sheoffered it to me."
"You are a strange girl," he said. He bade her good-bye as she enteredthe omnibus, and then turned to walk up Hampstead Hill once again.
The next day at twelve o'clock Florence Aylmer, neatly dressed, andlooking bright and purposeful, and no longer overpowered by any sense ofremorse, appeared at Mr. Anderson's office. She was received with thepoliteness which is ever accorded to the successful. The very clerks inthe outer office seemed to know that she was not to be confounded withthe ordinary young person who appears daily and hourly offeringunsaleable wares. Florence's wares were saleable--more than saleable.She was ushered into a room to wait for a moment, and then very soonFranks appeared on the scene.
"How do you do, Miss Aylmer?" he said, coming up in his quick way, andshaking hands with her. "I am very pleased to see you. Will you comewith me now, as I should like to introduce you to Mr. Anderson?"
They left the waiting-room together, went up some broad stairs, andentered a very spacious apartment on the first floor. Here an elderlyman, of tall presence, with grey hair and a hooked nose, was waiting toreceive them. He stood up when Florence appeared, bowed to her, andthen held out his hand.
"Will you seat yourself, Miss Aylmer?" he said.
Florence did so. Mr. Anderson stood on the hearth and looked her allover. He had a keen, hawk-like glance, and his scrutiny was verypenetrating. Florence found herself colouring under his gaze. She hadbeen full of _sangfroid_ and almost indifference when she entered theoffice, but now once again that terrible, overpowering sense of guiltwas visiting her.
Mr. Anderson was a Scotchman to the backbone, and a man of very fewwords.
"I read your story," he said; "it is sharp and to the point. You have anice style and an original way of putting things. I accepted your storyfor the _Argonaut_; it may not appear for some months, but it willcertainly be published before the end of the year. We had better nowarrange terms. What do you think your manuscript worth?"
"Nothing at all," was Florence's unguarded answer.
This was so unexpected that both Franks and the editor smiled.
"You are a very young writer indeed," said Mr. Anderson. "You will soonlearn to appraise your wares at their true value. As this is your firsteffort I will pay you two guineas a thousand words. There are, I think,from five to six thousand words in the manuscript. You will receive acheque therefore, say, for twelve guineas on the day of publication."
Florence gave a short gasp.
"It really is not worth it," she said again.
Franks felt inclined to say: "Don't make such a fool of yourself," buthe restrained himself.
Mr. Anderson now drew his own chair forward and looked at Florence.
"I should be glad," he said, "to receive further contributions. You havedoubtless many ideas, and you have at present the great and inestimablecharm of novelty. You write in a fresh way. We are always looking forwork of the sort you have given us. I should be sorry if you took yourstories to anyone else. Would it be possible to make an arrangement forus to receive all your contributions, say, for twelve months?"
"I assure you," here interrupted Franks, "that this is so unusual anoffer that you would be very silly indeed, Miss Aylmer, to reject it."
Florence gazed from one to the other in growing alarm.
"What I mean is this," said Anderson, noticing her perturbation andpitying her supposed innocence. "When your story appears it will attractthe attention of the critics. It will receive, beyond doubt, some veryfavourable comments, and other editors, who equally with myself arelooking out for what is fresh and novel, will write to you and ask youto work for them. I do not wish in any way to injure your futureprospects; but I think you would do better for yourself, and eventuallyincrease the value of your contributions, by giving us your work duringthe first year. When can we find room for this first story of MissAylmer's, Franks?"
Franks thought for a moment.
"There is no reason why it should not appear in November," he said. "Wecould dispense with illustrations--at least one illustration will bequite sufficient."
"Very well; it shall appear then. You will soon receive proofs, MissAylmer; and can you let me have another small story of about the samelength in a month from now? If your first story is liked we can findroom for another in December. You will think over my proposal. I do notwant you to hurry nor to appear to coerce you in any way, but we shallbe proud to be the publishers who introduced you to, I hope, a verylarge audience."
Mr. Anderson here got up, and Florence, seeing that the interview was atan end, bowed and went away. Franks accompanied her downstairs.
"You will, of course, accept Mr. Anderson's offer?" he said.
"Of course I shall," replied Florence; "why should I not? But you areboth under a mistake with regard to me. I do not suppose any othereditors will want my contributions; but if you wish for them you cancertainly have them."
She returned home, avoided Edith Franks, and stayed for the remainder ofthat day in her own attic.
 
; "Soon my pecuniary difficulties will be at an end," she said to herself."I have not the slightest doubt that I can get some more stories intothe _Argonaut_ this year. I shall soon get over my remorse; myconscience will soon cease to prick me. If I receive twelve guineas foreach story I shall earn a considerable sum. I can then live easily. I donot mind how poorly I live if only I am assured of a certainty."
She walked across the room and looked out; the expression on her facehad changed: it had grown hard and defiant. She took up her pen, drew asheet of note-paper before her, and began to write:--
"DEAR BERTHA--
"The story is accepted by that new six-penny magazine, the _Argonaut_, and they want more. Please send me something else. I have succumbed to temptation, and am once again, as you so earnestly desire, in the toils.
"Yours,
"FLORENCE AYLMER."
Having written this letter, Florence proceeded to write another:--
"DEAR MRS. TREVOR--
"I have thought of your kind offer of yesterday. Indeed, I have scarcely ceased to think of it since I left you. It is with great, great sorrow that I must decline it. You and your kind son had better think no more about me. I am not what I seem: I am not a good girl nor a nice girl in any way. If I were straight and simple and honest I could be the happiest of the happy in your house; but I am not, and I can never tell you what I really am. Please forget that you ever knew me.
"Yours, with gratitude,
"Florence Aylmer."