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.