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.”