"Bertha, I simply cannot."
"All right," said Bertha. "I give you until to-morrow at noon to decide. If by that time I have twenty pounds in my hand all right, your secret is respected and no catastrophe will happen, and your frightful deceit will never be found out. Only one person will know it, and that is I. But if you do not give me the twenty pounds I shall myself go to Mrs. Clavering and tell her everything. I shall be sorry; the consequences will be very disagreeable for me; I cannot even say if I shall quite escape the punishment of the law, but I expect I shall. In any case, you will be done for, my pretty Florence; your career will be over. Think of that; think of the little Mummy, as you call her, without the great Scholarship to back you up—think what it means."
"I do, I do; the only one I do think of at the present moment is my mother," said Florence. "When I think of her it gives me agony. But, Bertha, I cannot get that twenty pounds."
"You can; make an excuse to your Aunt Susan to obtain it. Now, my dear, you know why I have come to you; I will not trouble you any further. The twenty pounds at noon to-morrow, or you know the consequences." Bertha waved her hand with a light air, kissed the slim little figure in its Greek dress, then she opened the door and went out.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE VOICE OF GOD.
After Bertha had left her, Florence sat in a stunned attitude. She was just rising slowly from her chair when there came a knock a second time at the door. This time Florence had not even a moment to say "Come in." The door was softly opened, and the fair, sweet face of Kitty peeped round it.
"Ah! I thought you were not in bed," she said; "I came to see you just for a minute to wish you good-night."
"I wish you had not come," said Florence. She looked so pale and frightened that Kitty glanced at her aghast.