“Worse and worse. I hoped it might be only the whim of the moment—a castle, not of the air, but of the woods—and as easily demolished.”
“Let us draw back,” said Flora. “Lyndsay, dearest; the trial is too great.”
“It is too late now, Flora. Depend upon it, love, that God has ordered it, and that we act in conformity to the Divine will, and that all is for the best.”
“If such is your belief, my dear friend,” said Miss Parnell, “far be it from me to persuade you to stay. God orders all things for good. The present moment is the prophet of the future. It must decide your fate.”
“I have not acted hastily in this matter,” returned Lyndsay. “I have pondered over it long and anxiously, and I feel that my decision is right. The grief poor Flora feels at parting with her friends, is the greatest drawback. I thought that she possessed more strength of endurance. As for me, I have passed through the ordeal before, when I left Scotland for the Cape of Good Hope; and I now look upon myself as a citizen of the world. I know that Flora will submit cheerfully to the change, when once we lose sight of the British shores.”
“This then means the cause of Flora’s tears?”
“Not exactly,” said Flora, laughing. “That odious Mrs. Ready has been here, tormenting me with impertinent questions.”
“Flora, I’m ashamed of you,” said Lyndsay, “for suffering yourself to be annoyed by that stupid woman.”
“And worse than that, dear John, I got into a passion, and affronted her.”
“And what did Mrs. Grundy say?”