"No one ever suited me so well. You are surely not jealous of my affection for dear Maurice?"
"Oh, no; I love him myself," said Bertha.
Mrs. Aylmer looked grave. She rose slowly.
"Ring for my maid, will you, Bertha? I shall go to bed; I am tired," said the great lady.
The maid appeared a moment later, and the two left the room together. As Mrs. Aylmer slowly undressed, she thought of Bertha's last words: "I love him myself."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Aylmer to herself; "she is ten years his senior if she's a day; nevertheless, I must be careful. She is a clever woman; I should be sorry to have to do without her, but I often wonder what her past was. I made very few enquiries with regard to her history. I wanted someone to be with me at the time, and she took my fancy."
Downstairs Bertha slowly unfastened the little parcel and looked at the five ten-pound notes which were rolled up within.
"After all, it's just as well that I should have this money by me as that I should give it to Florence Aylmer," she said to herself. "I must think of some other way to tempt her, and the money will be useful. I shall put it back into the post-office and wait awhile. She is certain to go to London, and equally certain to fail. I can tempt her with some of my stories. I will manage to get her address. Yes, clever as you think yourself, Florence, you will be in my power, and before many weeks are over."