"That is what I mean. You can think it all over. I will make my suggestion, for I know you won't betray me. I will write your essay for you. I can do it. I can write on noble things; I am well educated; I am to a certain extent a practiced writer. I may not have Kitty's talent, but I have—what she has not—the practiced pen. She will struggle, but she cannot succeed against me. I will write the essay on Heroism, and you shall accept it as your work. Now, think it over; don't answer me at once."
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FALL.
The remainder of that walk was taken in complete silence. Florence's head felt as if it were going round. There was a buzzing noise in her ears. Higher and yet higher over her moral nature did the waves of temptation rise. She struggled, but each struggle was feebler than the last. They reached Hilchester, and Bertha looked at her companion.
"You are as white as a sheet," she said; "won't you go in and rest at Mrs. Baker's shop? I shall call there presently for buns and things I am bringing back for the conversazione to-night; she will gladly let you rest. The postoffice is quite five minutes' walk from here. Let me post your letter for you. Have you the money in your pocket for the order?"
"I think I will rest at Mrs. Baker's," said Florence. "You will be sure to get the order all right, Bertha? Here is the letter; put the order in, won't you, and then put the letter in the post?"
"Yes, yes," said Bertha; "I'll be as quick as possible."
She almost snatched the letter from Florence's hand, took the sovereign, slipped it into her purse, and walked down the street with rapid strides. In less than a quarter of an hour she had returned to Florence.
"It is all right," she said, briskly; "and now for my commissions here. I hope you are more rested, Flo."