FLORA GOES TO TEA WITH MISS CARR.
The following evening, at the primitive hour of half-past five, Flora
took her work, and went across the green to take tea with Miss Carr.
She found that eccentric lady seated by the window, looking out for her,
and Muff standing on her shoulder, catching flies off the panes of
glass. The evening was cold and raw, though the month was August, and
threatened rain. Such changes are common on the coast. The dreary aspect
of things without was relieved by a small but very cheerful fire, which
was burning away merrily in the grate. A large easy chair, covered with
snow-white dimity, was placed near it, expressly for Flora's
accommodation, into which she was duly inducted by Miss Carr, the moment
she had relieved herself of her bonnet and shawl. Everything looked so
comfortable and cosy, in the neat lodging-house, and the tame mad woman
received Mrs. Lyndsay with such hospitable warmth of manner, that the
former regretted that her husband was not allowed to share her visit.
"You are late," said Wilhelmina, drawing a small sofa up to the fire,
and placing it opposite to Flora's easy chair, so that a pretty
work-table stood conveniently between them; "I told you to come early,
and I have been waiting for you this hour."
"I am sorry for that. I thought I had come unfashionably early."
"Fashion! What have you or I to do with anything so absurd as fashion?
You are too poor to attend to the whims and caprices which sway the mind
of the multitude, from which I presume emanate the fashions of the
world; and I am too independent to be swayed by any will but my own. We
will therefore set the fashion for ourselves. This is liberty hall while
I am mistress of it. I do as I please; I give you full permission to do
the same. But what kept you so late?"
"A thousand little domestic duties, too numerous and too trifling to
dwell upon," said Flora, drawing her work from her bag; "since you give
me the privilege of doing as I please, I will resume my work, while I
listen to your lively conversation."
"You will do no such thing," returned Wilhelmina, twitching a frill
which Flora had commenced hemming, from her hand, "I will have no
stitching and sewing here, but as much conversation as you please." Then
ringing the bell, she handed over the frill to Mrs. Turner, "Give that
to your daughter, Mrs. T., to hem for me, and tell her to do it in her
very best style."
"Why, la, ma'am, 'tis a very small affair," said Mrs. Turner, with a
meaning smile.
"A nightcap frill for Muff," said Miss Carr. "The cold weather is
coming. I mean Muff to wear caps in the winter."
"You are a droll lady," said Mrs. Turner retreating; "it's a pity you
had not something better to make an idol of, than a dog."
While Miss Carr was speaking to Mrs. Turner, Flora glanced round the
room, and was not a little surprised to find a pianoforte making part of
the furniture, an open drawing-box, of a very expensive kind, with
card-board and other drawing materials, occupied a side-table. These
were articles of refinement she had not expected from a man-like woman
of Miss Carr's character.
"Are you fond of drawing?" she asked, when they were once more alone.
"Passionately, my dear: I am a self-taught genius. Other people drew,
and I was determined that I would draw too. What should hinder me? I
have eyes to see, and hands to copy what pleases me; and the school from
which I derive instruction is the best in the world, and furnishes the
most perfect models--that of Nature. I never bent my mind to anything
that I wished to accomplish, and failed. But you shall judge for
yourself."
Miss Wilhelmina sprang from her seat, and bouncing into a closet, soon
returned with a large portfolio, which she placed on the table before
Flora. "There are my treasures; you can examine them at your leisure."
Flora did not expect anything delicate or beautiful, but she was
perfectly astonished, not at the skill and taste displayed in these
drawings, but at the extraordinary want of it--nothing could be worse,
or indeed so eccentrically bad. The first specimen of Miss Carr's
talents as an artist which she drew from the splendid velvet-covered
portfolio puzzled her not a little. What the picture was meant for,
Flora, for the life of her, could not tell, until glancing down to the
bottom of the sheet, she read with great difficulty the following
explanation, written in a vile hand:--
"_Portrait of the Incomparable Muff, taken while picking her bone at
breakfast._"
It was a good thing she had discovered a key to the hieroglyphic, for
Miss Carr's keen eyes were fixed intently upon her, as if they were
reading her inmost soul.
"Is it not beautiful?" she cried, anticipating Flora's admiration.
"Muff is a very pretty animal," said Flora evasively.
"Muff pretty!" exclaimed Miss Carr indignantly, "who ever thought of
insulting Muff by calling her _pretty_! She is exquisite--the perfection
of her species. I have, in that spirited picture, hit her off to the
life. Look at the action of that tail--the life-like grasp of those
paws. You might almost fancy you heard her growl over the delicious
broiled mutton-bone."
Flora thought the picture would have suited the _Ornithorhyncus
paradoxus_ quite as well as the incomparable Muff. The drawing was too
bad to praise; she could not flatter, and she abhorred quizzing.
Miss Carr waited for her answer. Flora was dumb-foundered; fortunately
the offended vanity of the artist soon relieved her from the painful and
embarrassing silence.
"I perceive that you are no judge of good paintings, Mrs. Lyndsay, or
you must see some merit in the one before you. I showed that sketch to
an Italian artist of celebrity when I was at Rome; he said, 'That it
was worthy of the original,' which I considered no mean praise."
"Doubtless, he was right," said Flora. "His judgment must be more
correct than mine. Muff is so unlike the generality of dogs, that it is
difficult to recognise her as such."
"She's a fairy!" cried Wilhelmina, forgetting her anger, and hugging
Muff to her breast.
"A Brownie," suggested Flora, delighted to find the conversation taking
a turn.
"Brownies belong to an inferior order of immortals," quoth Wilhelmina,
still caressing her dog. "My Muff is among the aristocrats of her
species. But you have not seen the rest of my sketches. You will find a
great many original pieces in the portfolio."
Flora wished them all behind the fire, and turning with a rueful
seriousness to the sacred repository of _genius_, she drew forth several
daubs that were meant for landscapes, the contemplation of which would
have provoked the most indifferent person to mirth; but it was no
laughing matter to examine them while a being so odd as Miss Carr was
regarding you with a fixed gaze, hungry for applause and admiration.
Flora thought she had discovered the maddest point in Miss Carr's
character. At length she stumbled upon a portrait. The figure was meant
for that of a boy, but the head was as big as the head of a man, and
covered with a forest of red curling hair, and he held in his hand a
bunch of blue flowers as big as himself. "What an odd looking creature!"
burst involuntarily from her lips.
"Ah, my beautiful Adolphe!" cried Wilhelmina. "He was odd like
myself--he stood alone in the world in my estimation. I must tell you
the history of that child while you have his charming face before you."
Flora quietly slipped the portrait back into the portfolio. Her
inclination to laugh became almost irrepressible. Miss Wilhelmina laid
her right foot over her left knee, and, patting it almost as
complacently as she would have done the silky brown back of her pet
dog, gave Mrs Lyndsay the following passage from her history:--
"That boy, with the education I meant to bestow upon him, would have
become a great man--a second William Tell, or Andrew Hoffer--and I
should have been the foster-mother of a man of genius. But it was not to
be--there is a fate in these things."
"Did he die?" asked Flora.
"Die! that would have been nothing out of the common way; everybody must
die, some time or other. Oh, no, he may be living yet for what I
know--it was far worse than that."
Flora became interested.
"First--I like to begin at the beginning--I must tell you how I came by
Adolphe. I passed the summer of '28 in a small village among the Alps.
Every fine day I rambled among the mountains,--sometimes with a guide,
sometimes alone. About half a mile from the village I daily encountered,
upon the rocky road, a red-headed little boy of eight years of age, who
never failed to present me with a bunch of the blue flowers which grow
just below the regions of ice and snow. He presented his offering in
such a pretty, simple manner, that I never accepted his flowers without
giving him a kiss and a few small coins. We soon became great friends,
and he often accompanied me on my exploring expeditions. Whether it was
his red head--God bless the mark! or a likeness I fancied I saw between
him and me, I cannot tell; but at last I grew so fond of the child that
I determined to adopt him as my own. His father was one of the mountain
guides, and resided in a small cabin among the hills. I followed Adolphe
to his romantic home, and disclosed my wishes to his parents. They were
very poor people, with a very large family, Adolphe being number twelve
of the domestic group.
"For a long time they resisted all my entreaties to induce them to part
with the child. The woman, like the mother of the Gracchi, thought fit
to look upon her children as her jewels,--Adolphe, in particular, she
considered the gem in the maternal crown. Her opposition only increased
my desire to gain possession of the boy; indeed, I was so set upon
having him that, had she remained obstinate, I determined to carry him
off without asking her leave a second time. My gold, and the earnest
request of the child himself, at last overcame her scruples; and after
binding me by a solemn promise to let them see him at least once a-year,
she gave him into my charge with many tears.
"Having accomplished this business, greatly to my own satisfaction, I
set off with Adolphe, on a tour on foot through Germany. He was not only
a great comfort to me, but useful withal. He was sturdy and strong, a
real son of the hills, and he carried my small valise, and enlivened the
length of the road with his agreeable prattle.
"When we put up for the night, the people always took him for my son; a
fact I thought it useless to dispute in a foreign country. It would have
had a more significant meaning in England. A red-headed, single lady
could not have travelled alone, with a red-headed child, without
disagreeable insinuations. Abroad I always passed myself off as a widow,
and Adolphe of course was my orphan son.
"Matters went off very pleasantly, until we arrived at Vienna, and I
hired a neat lodging in a quiet part of the city, where I determined to
spend the winter. The next morning I went out, accompanied by Adolphe,
to examine the lions of the place. By accident we got entangled in a
crowd, which had collected in one of the principal thoroughfares, to
witness a fire. While striving to stem my way through the heaving mass
of human forms that hedged us in on every side, I suddenly missed my
child. To find him among such a multitude, was, indeed, to look for a
needle in a waggon of hay; yet I commenced the search in utter
desperation.
"I ran hither and thither, wherever I could find an opening, frantically
calling upon Adolphe. I asked every person whom I met--'If they had
seen my boy?' Some pitied--some laughed; but the greater number bade me
stand out of their way. I was mad with fear and excitement, and returned
to my lodgings late in the evening, starving with hunger, and worn out
with fatigue of mind and body. I hoped that the child might have found
his way home, and was waiting me there. Alas! Adolphe had not been seen,
and I went to bed too much vexed to eat my supper.
"Early the next morning I resumed my search. I hired the public cryer to
proclaim my loss; I borrowed a large bell from my landlady, and went
through all the streets crying him myself, hoping that he would
recognise my voice. Alas! alas! I never saw my child again!"
"Never?" said Flora. "Was he irrevocably lost?"
"Lost, lost, lost!" said Wilhelmina, shaking her head. "This comes of
adopting other people's brats. Had he been a worthless, spoilt imp of my
own, I should have been more successful. I stayed in Vienna all the
winter. I advertised him in the papers. I had placards, offering a large
reward for his discovery, pasted on the walls of the principal streets;
but I failed in recovering my poor Adolphe. To console myself for his
loss, I painted that portrait of him from memory. 'Tis an admirable
likeness. No one who had ever seen the original, could mistake it for
another. It was just a week after I lost my child, that the mistress of
the house, in compassion for my distress, presented me with my
incomparable Muff. Fortune owed me a good turn, for the ill-natured
trick she had played me. It would not have been difficult for me to have
found another red-headed boy, as amiable as Adolphe; but such a prize as
Muff is only to be met with once in a life."
"And the parents of the poor child,--how did they bear his loss?"
"To tell you the truth, my dear, I never knew. I never wish to know;
for, without Adolphe, I never mean to venture into their neighbourhood
again."
"Let us hope," said Flora, "that the child found his way back to his
native mountains."
"Hurra!" cried Miss Wilhelmina, starting from her seat, and giving Flora
such a hearty embrace that she nearly choked her. "I never thought of
that possibility before. Yes--yes; he had money in his little purse. I
have no doubt that, on missing me, he returned by the road we had
travelled to his native place. That demon won't haunt my dreams again.
But here comes the coffee, and Miss Turner's delicious cakes and
home-made bread and butter. I hope you are fond of coffee, my dear? I
detest tea;--it is a sort of nervous, maudlin, sick-chamber trash, only
fit for old maids and milk-and-water matrons."
"I prefer coffee," said Flora. "I have quite an Asiatic taste in that
respect."
"Don't talk of Asiatic coffee," said Wilhelmina: "wait till you have
tasted it. The nauseous stuff! I have drank enough of it at
Constantinople, but never could get it down without a grimace. I have it
made in the French style."
The coffee and cakes were served on a small silver tray, which was
placed on the table between them. The coffee was fragrant and
exhilarating; the bread and butter and cakes richly deserved the praise
Miss Wilhelmina had bestowed upon them. Flora had dined early, and did
justice to them.
"I like to see a person enjoy their meals," said Miss Carr. "I hate
affectation in eating, as much as I hate affectation in speech. Some
mince with their food as if they were ashamed of putting a morsel into
their mouths before people. They ask for the least piece of this, and
for an imaginary crumb of that; and make their entertainers
uncomfortable by their ridiculous fastidiousness; while, if we could see
these very delicate masticators in their own homes, perhaps we should
find them grumbling for Benjamin's share of the daily meal. For my own
part, I always eat in public as if no eye was upon me, and do it in a
hearty, natural way. You may be sure, when you see persons, whether male
or female, give themselves great airs at table, that they have never
been used to good society at home."
Flora thought there was a great deal of truth in some of Wilhelmina's
remarks. But she felt that it would be dangerous to take the doings of
such an odd mortal for precedents in any case; and she was justified in
her opinion by Miss Carr, the moment the table was cleared, calling for
hot water, brandy, and wine.
"Do you smoke?" she cried, producing a box of cigars from the closet,
and a long Turkish pipe. Then, drawing down the window-curtains, she
tucked her legs under her upon the sofa, and commenced filling, from a
beautiful inlaid silver box, her hooker, with its finely-ornamented bowl
and amber mouthpiece.
Flora looked her astonishment, as she said,--
"Miss Carr, do you _really_ smoke?"
"Do I know what is good?" said Wilhelmina. "Did you never see a woman
smoke before?"
"Yes, Irish barrow-women in London; and I thought it odd, even for
them."
"They were wise women, my dear, and knew how to appreciate the merits of
the weed. The Irish are a clever people--a very clever people. You
remember, that I am Irish by the mother's side, and have retained one of
the national tastes. But it was not in Ireland, nor in the streets of
London, sitting upon a fruit-woman's barrow, that I learned the
pleasures of smoking. It was in the East, with all its pretended
romance, and real humbug, that I acquired what you consider an
unfeminine accomplishment. I saw fat, turbaned men sitting cross-legged
in every bazaar, dozing over their huge pipes, in a sort of dreamy
helplessness; and I determined to fathom the mystery of their enjoyment,
and find out the grand secret.
"The first few whiffs I took made me very sick and stupid. 'Courage,'
said I, not in the least disheartened--
"'Pleasure cometh after pain,
Sunshine cometh after rain--
Wilhelmina, try again.'
And I did try, for I was determined not to be beaten by these
long-bearded, long-petticoated men; and the next trial was crowned with
complete success.
"Now, Mrs. Lyndsay, is it not a shame that these selfish men should be
tamely allowed by us foolish women to monopolise all the good things of
life, and make that criminal in a female which they cannot deny
themselves? You don't know how much you lose, by being frightened by
their blustering into passive obedience, and persuaded that what is good
for a man is quite out of keeping with a woman. Do, just by way of
illustration to my argument, try one of those fragrant cigars. They are
of the best quality--real Havana--'pon honour."
"You must excuse me," said Flora, laughing--as Miss Wilhelmina's head
dimly loomed through clouds of smoke--"I have no wish to acquire such a
taste."
"You're a little fool," puffed forth Wilhelmina. "But I hope to make
something out of you yet. Take a glass of wine."
"I never drink anything but water, excepting at breakfast and tea."
"Water! Fiddle-faddle. A tumbler of hot punch will do you no harm. I am
going to mix some in the most scientific manner."
"Only think what Lyndsay would say," cried Flora, "if he should come in,
and find me smoking a cigar, and drinking brandy punch? He would never
forgive me--I could never forgive myself."
"All stuff and nonsense; I am certain he would neither refuse one of
these cigars, nor a tumbler of this excellent punch. Does he never
smoke?"
"Oh, yes; a cigar, sometimes."
"And takes a glass of toddy--or he's no Scot."
"Occasionally, with a friend."
"A male friend, _of course_. He takes snuff, for I have seen him do it;
and this, between ourselves, is a far dirtier habit than smoking. I hate
snuff; it always reminds me of a lecture I once heard upon that subject
in America. The lecturer was a methodist; and he spoke very vehemently
against the use of tobacco in any shape; but snuff-taking seemed to
rouse him up, and inflame his indignation to a pitch of enthusiasm. 'If
the Almighty,' he said, 'had intended a man's nose for a dust-hole, he
would have turned up the nostrils the other way.' These were his very
words; and to me they were so convincing, that I discarded from that
moment all idea of becoming a snuff-taker."
Wilhelmina emptied her tumbler of brandy and water, which she as quickly
replenished. These strong potations began to take effect--her eyes
danced in her head, and she became so strangely excited, that Flora
wished devoutly that she was safe at home. Presently her odd companion
laid aside her pipe, pushed from before her the now empty tumbler, and,
rising abruptly, exclaimed--
"I've had enough."
Flora thought that she might have come to that conclusion half an hour
before.
"I'm not intoxicated," she said: "I only drink enough to raise my
spirits, and drive away the blue devils. And now for a little music."
She sat down to the piano.
"I play entirely from ear, Mrs. Lyndsay; I leave you to judge if I have
not an exquisite taste. Here is a march I composed this morning for
Captain Lyndsay's black regiment--Hottentot of course. You say he plays
well himself. He cannot fail to admire it. I will write it out for him
to-morrow."
Of all Miss Carr's strange whims, the idea she entertained of her being
a great musician, was the most absurd. She rattled over the keys at a
tremendous rate, striking them with such force that she made the
instrument shake. It was a mad revel--a hurricane of sound, yet, not
without a certain degree of eccentric talent. In the midst of a
tremendous passage there came a knock at the door.
"That's my husband," said Flora, rising, glad to get away.
It was only the maid.
"You are no prophet," said Miss Carr, rattling on; "you must stay till I
give you _Napoleon's Passage of the Alps_. I wrote it on the spot. It is
a grand thing. I mean to publish it one of these days."
Flora said, "that she should be happy to hear it some other time. It was
late. She was anxious to get home."
"Be off with you then," said Wilhelmina, laughing, "and don't tell me
any white lies, or try and convince your good man, that I have been
endeavouring to corrupt your morals."
Lyndsay was amused, but not much pleased, with the account his wife gave
him of her visit to Miss Carr.
"You must drop that woman's acquaintance, if possible," said he.
"Whether insane, or only eccentric, any particular intimacy with her
must be attended with unpleasant consequences."
Flora was willing enough to follow his advice; but to get rid of Miss
Carr was sooner said than done. Flora did not go to that lady's house,
but Wilhelmina chose to come to her; though she gave her neither pipes
to smoke, nor brandy to drink, her odd guest never failed to step in
once or twice a week.
"You are an ungrateful creature, Flora Lyndsay," said Wilhelmina, one
day to her--"very ungrateful. You know I am fond of you; but you are
such a mental coward, that you are ashamed of my acquaintance, because
the world finds fault with me, for not living in accordance with its
lying customs. You are afraid lest people should sneer at you for
tolerating my eccentricities, as they please to term a person leading a
true life--or say, that Mrs. Lyndsay smokes, and drinks, and swears,
because Miss Carr does; and your sense of propriety is shocked at such
an idea. I do drink and smoke; but like Poll, in the sailor's song, '_I
seldom swear._' It gives me no pleasure; and I never do anything
gratuitously bad."
Flora could not deny, that these were among the objections she had to an
intimacy with Miss Carr; but she wisely held her tongue upon the
subject.
"Ah, well," said Wilhelmina, after waiting a reasonable time for an
answer, and getting none. "Your silence is very conclusive evidence of
the accusation I have brought against you. I give you credit for being
honest, at least. You are no sneak, though I am rich, and you are poor.
I verily believe, that you are prouder of your poverty, than I am of my
wealth. I know many persons who hate me, and would yet fawn to me before
my face, while they abused me like pickpockets behind my back. You are
not one of them, and I love you for that."
Flora had a kindness for Wilhelmina. She believed her to be mad, and not
accountable for her actions, and she tried to persuade her to give over
her rambling propensities, and accept the protection of her brother's
roof. This advice greatly displeased Miss Carr. Flora might as well have
striven to confine a hurricane within the bounds of a cambric
pocket-handkerchief, as to lay the least embargo upon that lady's
freedom of speech or action.
"Mind your own business! Mrs. Lyndsay," she said, angrily. "I suffer no
one to interfere with me, or my matters."
For many months Wilhelmina never entered the house, though she walked
past the window every day, to give Flora a hint that she was still in
the land of the living.
In February Mrs. Lyndsay's little girl was born; and for a very long
time she was too ill to stir abroad. Miss Carr sent Mrs. Turner every
day to inquire after her health; and testified her regard in a more
substantial form, by sending her two dozen of old Madeira wine, which
she said would strengthen and do her good. Flora was very grateful for
these little attentions, and felt ashamed of the repugnance she had
shown for Wilhelmina's society. But they never met again, until Miss
Carr came to bid her farewell.
"You are going to Canada," she said, shaking Flora heartily by the hand.
"You are wise. In that wild country you will enjoy the glorious
privilege of living as you please. I would go too, but I am afraid the
cold winters would not agree with Muff, and her comfort has to be
considered as well as my own. I spent a winter in New York; and I liked
the Americans first-rate. But as to pure democracy, my dear, that's all
a humbug. No well-educated, wealthy persons, ever consider themselves
upon an equality with their servants. But they are pleasant, kind,
intelligent people to live with, if you have plenty of money, and dress
well. I know nothing of Canada; it was too insignificant to awaken
either interest or curiosity. I shall regard it with more complacency
for your sake."
Flora took the opportunity of thanking Miss Carr for her kindness during
her illness.
"What a serious matter you make of a trifle!" said Wilhelmina, laughing.
"Don't thank me. It was neither out of love nor charity I sent it, but
just to make you confess that wine was a good thing after all, and much
better to take than the doctor's stuff."
"The doctor had recommended wine, but we could not afford it. I never
told Lyndsay a word about it, for fear he should lay out the money we
wanted so much for our voyage, in such an expensive remedy. I am certain
that it did me a great deal of good."
"Doubtless," said Wilhelmina. "I am glad to have rendered you a service,
however trifling. You are a clear, prudent creature, but want spirit to
live as you please. I leave this hum-drum place to-morrow. Perhaps some
of these days we may meet again; if not, you may live to learn that you
slighted the friendship of one of the greatest geniuses that has arisen
in this age."
Miss Carr left the town on foot, as suddenly as she had entered it. Who
or what she was remains a riddle to this day: we are almost inclined to
believe that she was a _myth_.