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and came forward.

      "Is it or is it not Florence Aylmer?" she said. She held out both her hands, uttering a little cry of apparent pleasure.

      Florence did not notice the outstretched hands. She came up to her.

      "I have come on purpose," she said; "I knew you were here. What are you doing here?"

      "Why should I tell you what I am doing?" replied Bertha. Her eyes slightly contracted, she pushed her hair away from her forehead, then she looked full at Florence and uttered a laugh. "What is the good of quarrelling?" she said. "We have met. I am in the running; you are out of it. I am up and you are down. My prospects are first-rate, yours – "

      "What do you mean? How can you tell anything about my prospects? Why do you trouble me? Why did you come to meet me just now?"

      "Speak the truth," said Miss Keys; "were you not coming on purpose to see me?"

      Florence was silent for a moment.

      "I recognised you this morning," she said, "and I was restless to know why you were here."

      "Ah, curiosity, you are Eve's own daughter," said Bertha Keys, with a laugh. "Well, now that we have met, we may as well talk the thing out. Can you deny that you are down and I am up?"

      "I neither deny nor affirm your statement," replied Florence. "I have never heard of you – I have never mentioned your name since that dreadful day at Cherry Court six years ago."

      "Six years this autumn – not quite six years yet," replied Bertha, correcting her. "Yes, I too remember the day," she said thoughtfully. "It seemed a bad day for me, and yet it was a good one. I have feathered my nest. You stepped out of it and I stepped in. Do you understand?"

      "I don't."

      "You have grown a good deal, Florence Aylmer," said Bertha, looking her all over. "You are what would be called a fine young woman. If you had had the advantages of a refined life, of very good dress, you might, now that you are grown up, command almost any future. As it is" – she shrugged her shoulders.

      "What is the matter with my dress?" said Florence; "you always were queer and rude, Bertha, and time has not improved you."

      "You cannot say that I am badly dressed," said Bertha Keys, and she glanced at her exquisitely-cut pink zephyr skirt, her pretty blouse, and her neat shoes.

      Florence also eyed her all over.

      "You are well got up," she said; "but what of that? Your face never changes."

      "Thank you for the compliment," replied Bertha; "I cannot say that you are well got up, and your face, if it has changed, is not more beautiful than it promised to be."

      "Pray leave my face alone; it belongs to me, not to you," retorted Florence, with some spirit.

      "Do you want to know what I am doing now: how I am managing to live?" said Bertha.

      "You can tell me if you please; if you prefer not to say anything, it does not matter in the least."

      "But it does matter; it matters a good deal," replied Bertha. "You did something very silly long ago. You thought to succeed, but you failed. It was not my fault. I did what I could for you. If I was clever then, I am still more clever now. I have a gift of writing, but I need not wear my brain out thinking of curious essays and well-devised stories and clever plots. I am working at my own story, and I think it will come off well."

      "But what do you mean? Where are you?"

      "We are staying at the 'Crown and Garter' for the present."

      "We?" said Florence, in a questioning tone.

      "Yes; how stupid you are! Have not you guessed! Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor, and I."

      "You don't mean it?" said Florence, springing to her feet. "Aunt Susan! Are you staying with her?"

      "Yes, and I fancy I am indispensable to her. I have lived with her for nearly six years. I manage her affairs; I write her letters; I attend to her business; she consults me about everything. She goes where I like; she does what I want. The nest is comfortable. It was meant for you, but it fits me. Now perhaps you know."

      "And Mr. – Mr. Trevor?" said Florence, in a trembling voice.

      "Oh, he fits me too. He is a very good fellow, very nice indeed. He thinks I am quite an angel; he admires my talent, as he calls it. I believe he would be very sad if I were not there; he is much more likely to go than I am. Yes, Florence, you did well for me when you lost that Scholarship. I thought I would tell you."

      "Oh! oh!" said Florence, trembling and turning pale; "but if Aunt Susan knew! If she knew!"

      "Yes, if she knew," said Bertha, "but she does not know, and of course you won't tell her."

      "You think I won't; but – but Mummy will."

      "I don't think so. It would be much worse for yourselves if you did. I can hoodwink her; I can turn her against your mother; I can make her more bitterly opposed to you. Now you have to understand. I have long felt that I must come to an understanding with you. You must keep silence. If you speak you will do very little good, but it is possible you may give me an uncomfortable half-hour. Now, I don't care to have an uncomfortable half-hour, and, above all things, I don't want Mr. Trevor set against me."

      "Do you – do you mean to marry him?" said Florence abruptly.

      Bertha Keys coloured very faintly.

      "You are impertinent," she said; "I refuse to answer. I am comfortable where I am, and I mean to stay there. If you put Mr. Trevor against me, if you put Mrs. Aylmer against me, it will be all the worse for yourself; but if, on the other hand, you respect my secret, I can make things perhaps a shade more comfortable for you."

      "Oh, oh, Bertha, no," said poor Florence. She covered her face – her cheeks were crimson. "I hate you! I can never be your friend. Why did you come here?"

      "I came on purpose. I have not lost sight of you. You know something about me which I do not want the world to know. You could make things uncomfortable for me. I guessed that you would be coming here about now, and Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor, and I came to the 'Crown and Garter' at my suggestion. We will leave again the day after to-morrow; but not – not until you have made me a promise."

      CHAPTER IV.

      AN EVIL GENIUS

      After Bertha said the last words, Florence was quite silent. Bertha turned and looked at her; then, satisfied with what she saw or fancied she saw in her face, she turned aside again, giving a faint sigh as she did 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

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