CHAPTER XLIII.
A BUSH-FLITTING.
nto Robert Wynn's mind, during that sleigh-drive under the northern lights, had entered one or two novel ideas. The first was a plan for frustrating the grasping storekeeper's design. He laid the whole circumstances before Mr. Holt, and asked for the means of redeeming the mortgage, by paying Captain Armytage's debt to Bunting, which was not half the value of the farm.
The gallant officer was not obliged for his friend's officiousness. He had brought himself to anticipate the move to Montreal most pleasurably, notwithstanding the great pecuniary loss to himself. The element of practicality had little place in his mental composition. An atmosphere of vagueness surrounded all his schemes, and coloured them with a seductive halo.
'You see, my dear fellow,' he said to Robert, when the proposition of redeeming the mortgage was made, 'you see, it does not suit my plans to bury myself any longer in these backwoods, eh? There are so few opportunities of relaxation—of intellectual converse, of—a—in short, of any of those refinements required by a man of education and knowledge of the world. You will understand this, my dear Mr. Robert. I—I wish for a more extended field, in fact. Nor is it common justice to the girls to keep them immured, I may say, in an atmosphere of perpetual labour. I am sure my poor dear Edith has lived a slave's life since she came to the bush. Only for your amiable family, I—I positively don't know what might have been the consequence, eh?'
Robert felt himself getting angry, and wisely withdrew. On Mr. Holt's learning the reception of his offer, he briefly remarked that he guessed Sam wouldn't object to own a farm near Cedar Creek, and he should buy it altogether from the captain, which was accordingly done. We refrain from picturing Zack's feelings.
The other idea which had visited Robert under the aurora—why should he not himself become the tenant of Daisy Burn? He took his fur cap and went down there for an answer.
The captain had gone to the 'Corner,' this being post-day, and he expected some letters from the Montreal friends in whom he believed. Reginald was chopping wood; the two sisters were over their daily lessons. What to do with Jay, while the above question was being asked and answered, was a problem tasking Robert's ingenuity, and finally he assumed the office of writing-master, set her a sum in long division, which he assured her would require the deepest abstraction of thought, and advised a withdrawal to some other room for that purpose.