Flora Lyndsay Volume I Part 2

"My husband can judge for himself, Captain Kitson. He does not need the advice, or the interference of a third person," said Flora, colouring again. And this time she felt really angry; but there was no shaking the old man off.

"To be sure-to be sure," said her tormentor, without taking the smallest notice of her displeasure; "people are all wise in their own eyes. But what is Canada to you, my dear? A fine settler's wife you will make; nervous and delicate, half the time confined to your bed with some complaint or other. And then, when you are well, the whole blessed day is wasted in reading and writing, and coddling up the babby. I tell you that sort of business will not answer in a rough country like Canada. I was there often enough during the American war, and I know that the country won't suit you,-no, nor you won't suit the country."

Finding that Mrs. Lyndsay made no answer to this burst of eloquence, he continued, in a coaxing tone-

"Now, just for once in your life, my dear, be guided by older and wiser heads than your own, and give up this foolish project altogether. Let well alone. You are happy and comfortable where you are. This is a nice cottage, quite large enough for your small family. Fine view of the sea from these front windows, and all ready furnished to your hand,-nothing to find of your own but plate and linen; a pump, wood-house and coal-bin, and other conveniences,-all under one roof. An oven-"

"Stop," cried the old lady, "you need say nothing about that, Kitson.

The oven is good for nothing. It has no draught; and you cannot put a fire into it without filling the house with smoke."

"Pshaw!" muttered the old man. "A little contrivance would soon put that to rights."

"I tried my best," retorted the wife, "and I could never bake a loaf of bread in it, fit to eat."

"We all know what bad bread you make, Mrs. Kitson," said the captain. "I know that it can be baked in; so hold your tongue, Madam! and don't contradict me again. At any rate, there's not a smoky chimney in the house, which after all is a less evil than a cross wife. The house, I say, is complete from the cellar to the garret. And then, the rent-why, what is it? A mere trifle-too cheap by one half,-only twenty-five pounds per annum. I don't know what possessed me, to let it so low; and then, my dear, the privilege you enjoy in my beautiful flower-garden and lawn.

There is not many lodging-houses in the town could offer such advantages, and all for the _paltry_ consideration of twenty-five pounds a-year."

"The cottage is pretty, and the rent moderate, Captain," said Flora. "We have no fault to find, and you have not found us difficult to please."

"Oh, I am quite contented with my tenants; I only want them to know when they are well off. Look twice before you leap once-that's my maxim; and give up this mad Canadian project, which I am certain will end in disappointment."

And with this piece of disinterested advice, away toddled our gallant naval commander, to finish with Kelly the arrangement of his pots and kettles, and superintend the right adjustment of the clothes-lines, and the hanging out of Mrs. Lyndsay's clothes.

Do not imagine, gentle reader, that this picture is over-charged.

Captain Kitson is no creature of romance, (or was not, we should rather say; for he has long since been gathered to his fathers); but a brave, uneducated man; who during the war had risen from before the mast to the rank of Post Captain. He had fought at Copenhagen and Trafalgar, and distinguished himself in many a severe contest on the main during those stirring times, and bore the reputation of a das.h.i.+ng naval officer. At the advanced age of eighty, he retained all his original ignorance and vulgarity; and was never admitted into the society which his rank in the service ent.i.tled him to claim.

The restless activity which in the vigour of manhood had rendered him a useful and enterprising seaman, was now displayed in the most ridiculous interference in his own domestic affairs, and those of his neighbours.

With a great deal of low cunning, he mingled the most insatiable curiosity; while his habits were so penurious, that he would stoop to any meanness to gain a trifling pecuniary advantage for himself or his family.

He speculated largely in old ropes, condemned boats and sea-tackle of all description, whilst as consul for the port, he had many opportunities of purchasing wrecks of the sea, and the damaged cargoes of foreign vessels, at a cheap rate; and not a stone was left unturned by old Kitson, if by the turning a copper could be secured.

The meddling disposition of the old Captain, rendered him the terror of all the fishermen on the coast, over whom his sway was despotic. He superintended and ordered all their proceedings, with an authority as absolute as though he were still upon the deck of his war-s.h.i.+p, and they were subjected to his imperious commands. Not a boat could be put off, or a flag hoisted, without he was duly consulted and apprised of the fact. Not a funeral could take place in the town, without Kitson calling upon the bereaved family, and offering his services on the mournful occasion, securing to himself by this simple manuvre, an abundant supply of black silk cravats and kid gloves.

"Never lose anything, my dear, for the want of _asking_," he would say.

"A refusal breaks no bones, and there is always a chance of getting what you ask."

Acting upon this principle, he had begged favours of all the great men in power; and had solicited the interest of every influential person who had visited the town, during the bathing season, for the last twenty years, on his behalf. His favourite maxim practically carried out, had been very successful. He had obtained, for the mere trouble of asking, commissions in the army and navy for all his sons, and had got all his grandsons comfortably placed in the Greenwich or Christ Church schools.

He had a garden too, which was at once his torment and his pride. During the spring and summer months, the beds were dug up and remodelled, three or four times during the season, to suit the caprice of the owner, while the poor drooping flowers were ranged along the gra.s.s-plot to wither in the sun during the process, and

"Waste their sweetness on the desert air."

This he termed putting his borders into s.h.i.+p-shape.

The flower-beds which skirted the lawn, a pretty gra.s.s plot containing about an acre of ground, surrounded by tall poplar trees, were regularly sown with a succession of annuals, all for the time being of one sort and colour. For several weeks, innumerable quant.i.ties of double crimson stocks flaunted before your eyes, so densely packed, that scarcely a shade of green relieved the brilliant monotony. These were succeeded by larkspurs, and lastly by poppies, that reared their tall, gorgeous heads above the low, white railing, and looked defiance on all beholders.

Year after year presented the same spectacle, and pounds of stocks, larkspur and poppy seeds, were annually saved by the eccentric old man, to renew his floral show.

Tom W--, who was enchanted with the Captain's oddities, had nick-named the marine cottage _Larkspur Lodge_.

CHAPTER IV.

A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE.

The news of Lieutenant Lyndsay's intended emigration spread like wild-fire through the village, and for several days formed the theme of conversation. The timid shrugged their shoulders, and drew closer to their own cosy fire-sides, and preferred staying at home to tempting the dangers of a long sea-voyage. The prudent said, there was a _possibility_ of success; but it was better to take care of the little you had, than run the risk of losing it while seeking for more.-The worldly sneered, and criticised, and turned the golden antic.i.p.ations of the hopeful and the benevolent into ridicule, prophesying disappointment, ruin, and a speedy return. Lyndsay listened to all their remarks, endeavoured to combat unreasonable objections, and remove pre-conceived prejudices; but as it was all labour thrown away, he determined to abide by the resolution he had formed, and commenced making preparations accordingly.

Flora, who, like many of her s.e.x, was more guided by her feelings than her reason, was terribly annoyed by the impertinent interference of others, in what she peculiarly considered, her own affairs. Day after day she was tormented by visitors, who came to condole with her on the shocking prospects before her. Some of these were kind, well-meaning people, who really thought it a dreadful thing, to be forced, at the caprice of a husband, to leave home, and all its kindred joys, for a rude uncultivated wilderness like Canada. To such Flora listened with patience; for she believed their fears on her account were genuine-their sympathy sincere.

There was only one person in the whole town whose comments she dreaded, and whose pretended concern she looked upon as a real _bore_-this was Mrs. Ready, the wife of a wealthy merchant, who was apt to consider herself the great lady of the place.

The dreaded interview came at last. Mrs. Ready had been absent on a visit to London; and the moment she heard of the intended emigration of the Lyndsays to Canada, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and rushed to the rescue. The loud, double rat-tat-tat at the door, announced an arrival of more than ordinary consequence.

"O!" sighed Flora, pus.h.i.+ng away her desk, at which she was writing letters of importance, "I know that knock!-that disagreeable Mrs. Ready is come at last!"

Before Mrs. Ready enters the room, I may as well explain to the reader, what sort of an intimacy existed between Flora Lyndsay and Harriet Ready, and why the former had such a repugnance to a visit from the last-mentioned lady.

Without the aid of animal magnetism (although we have no doubt that it belongs to that mysterious science) experience has taught us all, that there are some natures that possess certain repellent qualities, which never can be brought into affinity with our own-persons, whom we like or dislike at first sight, with a strong predilection for the one almost amounting to love, with a decided aversion to the other, which in some instances almost merges into downright hate.

These two ladies had no attraction for each other: they had not a thought or feeling in common; and they seldom met without a certain sparring, which, to the looker-on, must have betrayed how matters stood between them.

But why did they meet, if such were the case?

It would be true wisdom in all such repellent natures to keep apart.

Worldly prudence, and the conventional rules of society, compel persons to hide these secret antipathies-nay, even to present the most smiling exterior to those whom they often least respect.

The fear of making enemies, of being thought ill-natured and capricious, or even of making the objects of their aversion persons of too much consequence, by keeping them aloof, are some of the reasons we have heard alleged for these acts of mental cowardice.

Mrs. Ready was a low-born woman, and Flora belonged to a very old and respectable family. Mrs. Ready wished to rise a step higher in the social scale, and, thinking that Flora might aid her ambitious views, she had, after the first calls of ceremony had been exchanged, clung to her with a pertinacity which all Mrs. Lyndsay's efforts to free herself had been unable to shake off.

Mrs. Ready was a woman of great pretensions, and had acquired an influence among her own set by a.s.suming a superiority to which, in reality, she had not the slightest claim. She considered herself a beauty-a wit-a person of extraordinary genius, and possessed of great literary taste. The knowledge of a few botanical names and scientific terms, which she sported on all occasions, had conferred upon her the t.i.tle of a learned woman; while she talked with the greatest confidence of her acquirements. _Her_ paintings-_her_ music-_her_ poetry, were words constantly in her mouth. A few wretched daubs, some miserable attempts at composition, and various pieces of music, played without taste, and in shocking bad time, const.i.tuted all her claims to literary distinction. Her confident boasting had so imposed upon the good credulous people among whom she moved, that they really believed her to be the talented being she pretended.

A person of very moderate abilities can be spiteful; and Mrs. Ready was so censorious, and said when offended such bitter things, that her neighbours tolerated her impertinence out of a weak fear, lest they might become the victims of her slanderous tongue.

Though living in the same house with her husband, whose third wife she was, they had long been separated, only meeting at their joyless meals.

Mrs. Ready considered her husband a very stupid animal, and did not fail to make both him and her friends acquainted with her opinion.

"There is a fate in these things," she observed, "or you would never see a person of _my_ superior intellect united to a creature like _that_."

The world recognised a less important agency in the ill-starred union.

Mrs. Ready was poor, and had already numbered thirty years, when she accepted the hand of her wealthy and despised partner.

No wonder that Flora, who almost adored her husband, and was a woman of simple habits and pretensions, should dislike Mrs. Ready: it would have been strange indeed if persons so differently const.i.tuted, could have met without antagonism.

Mrs. Ready's harsh unfeminine voice and manners; her a.s.sumption of learning and superiority, without any real t.i.tle to either, were very offensive to a proud sensitive mind, which rejected with disdain the patronage of such a woman. Flora had too much self-respect, not to say _vanity_, to tolerate the insolence of Mrs. Ready. She had met all her advances towards a closer intimacy with marked coldness; which, instead of repelling, seemed only to provoke a repet.i.tion of the vulgar, forcing familiarity, from which she intuitively shrank.