The Time of Roses
Page 46
CHAPTER XLV.
"ALL THE ROSES ARE DEAD."
When she awoke she heard someone moving in the room. There was therustling of a paper and the creak of a chair.
"Oh, Mrs. Trevor, have I told you everything?" she said, and she sprangto her feet, the color suffusing her cheeks and her eyes growing bright."And are you going to send me out into the cold? Are you never going tospeak to me again? Are you going to forsake me?"
"No, no; sit down," said a voice, and then Florence did indeed colorpainfully, for Mrs. Trevor was not in the room, but Maurice Trevor stoodbefore the excited girl.
"My mother has told me the whole story," he said.
He looked perturbed, his voice shook with emotion, and his face waspale, and there was an angry scowl in his eyes. He took Florence's handand pushed her into a chair.
"Sit down," he said. She looked up at him drearily.
"All the roses are dead," she said softly; "the time of roses is over."
"No, it is not over; it will come back again at the proper season," saidTrevor; "and don't think that I--"
"But do you know--"
"I know," he answered gravely. He bowed his head; then he drew a chairforward.
"I must speak to you," he said.
"You know everything?" she repeated.
"I do," he said. "I am glad you came to mother and told her. It is trueI suspected much. You know that passage in Miss Keys's handwriting whichI told you about some time ago, and the identically same passage in thenewspaper article which was supposed to be yours?--to a great extent myeyes were opened at that time, but not completely."
"You look very, very angry," she said.
"I am angry," he answered; "but, I think I can say with truth, not withyou."
"With Bertha?"
"Please do not mention her name."
"But I have been to blame: I have been terribly weak."
"You have been terribly weak; you have been worse. You have done wrong,great wrong; but, Florence--may I call you by your Christianname?--winter comes in every year, but it is followed by spring, andspring is followed by summer, and in summer the roses bloom again, andthe time of roses comes back, Florence, and it will come back even toyou."
"No, no," she said, and she began to sob piteously.
"You have been so good, so more than good to me," she said. "If you hadknown you would have despised me."
"If I had known I should have gone straight to Miss Keys and put a stopto this disgraceful thing," was the young man's answer. "I suppose,Florence," he added, after a pause, "you, if you have time to think ofme at all, pity me now because I am a penniless man."
"Oh, no, no," she replied; "it is not good for people to be too rich. Ihave quite come to be of that opinion."
"Thank God, then, we are both of one way of thinking because God, thoughHe has not given you this special talent, has given you much."
"Much," she repeated, vaguely.
"Yes," he repeated, speaking earnestly: "He has given youattractiveness, great earnestness of purpose, and oh! a thousand otherthings. He has at least done this for you, Florence: He has made you sothat in all the wide world you are the only woman for me. I can love noone but you, Florence--no one else--no one else, even though you didfall."
"You cannot: it is impossible," answered Florence. "You cannot love menow."
"I have loved you all through, and this thing does not alter my love.You see, Florence," he added, "it was not the girl who was famous that Icared for. I never did care a bit about the wonderful writing which wassupposed to be yours. Far from liking it, I hated it. I never wanted awife who would be either famous or clever."
"And Tom Franks," continued Florence, "only wants me because he thinksme clever. But he will not wish to marry me now."
"I only wanted you for yourself. Will you wait for me and let me try tomake a home for you, and when I have done that, will you come to me? Iam going away to Australia; I have heard of a good post there, and I amgoing out almost at once, and if things succeed, you and the mother cancome to me, and in the meantime will you stay with her and comfort her?"
"Oh, you are too good," said poor Florence; but she did not cry now. Sheclasped her hands and gazed straight into the fire; then she looked upat Trevor with awe.
"God must have forgiven me when He sent you to me," she said simply.
The next moment he had clasped her in his arms.