"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."