"Lost, lost, lost!" said Wilhelmina, shaking her head. "This comes of adopting other people's brats. Had he been a worthless, spoilt imp of my own, I should have been more successful. I stayed in Vienna all the winter. I advertised him in the papers. I had placards, offering a large reward for his discovery, pasted on the walls of the princ.i.p.al streets; but I failed in recovering my poor Adolphe. To console myself for his loss, I painted that portrait of him from memory. 'Tis an admirable likeness. No one who had ever seen the original, could mistake it for another. It was just a week after I lost my child, that the mistress of the house, in compa.s.sion for my distress, presented me with my incomparable m.u.f.f. Fortune owed me a good turn, for the ill-natured trick she had played me. It would not have been difficult for me to have found another red-headed boy, as amiable as Adolphe; but such a prize as m.u.f.f is only to be met with once in a life."

"And the parents of the poor child,-how did they bear his loss?"

"To tell you the truth, my dear, I never knew. I never wish to know; for, without Adolphe, I never mean to venture into their neighbourhood again."

"Let us hope," said Flora, "that the child found his way back to his native mountains."

"Hurra!" cried Miss Wilhelmina, starting from her seat, and giving Flora such a hearty embrace that she nearly choked her. "I never thought of that possibility before. Yes-yes; he had money in his little purse. I have no doubt that, on missing me, he returned by the road we had travelled to his native place. That demon won't haunt my dreams again.

But here comes the coffee, and Miss Turner's delicious cakes and home-made bread and b.u.t.ter. I hope you are fond of coffee, my dear? I detest tea;-it is a sort of nervous, maudlin, sick-chamber trash, only fit for old maids and milk-and-water matrons."

"I prefer coffee," said Flora. "I have quite an Asiatic taste in that respect."

"Don't talk of Asiatic coffee," said Wilhelmina: "wait till you have tasted it. The nauseous stuff! I have drank enough of it at Constantinople, but never could get it down without a grimace. I have it made in the French style."

The coffee and cakes were served on a small silver tray, which was placed on the table between them. The coffee was fragrant and exhilarating; the bread and b.u.t.ter and cakes richly deserved the praise Miss Wilhelmina had bestowed upon them. Flora had dined early, and did justice to them.

"I like to see a person enjoy their meals," said Miss Carr. "I hate affectation in eating, as much as I hate affectation in speech. Some mince with their food as if they were ashamed of putting a morsel into their mouths before people. They ask for the least piece of this, and for an imaginary crumb of that; and make their entertainers uncomfortable by their ridiculous fastidiousness; while, if we could see these very delicate masticators in their own homes, perhaps we should find them grumbling for Benjamin's share of the daily meal. For my own part, I always eat in public as if no eye was upon me, and do it in a hearty, natural way. You may be sure, when you see persons, whether male or female, give themselves great airs at table, that they have never been used to good society at home."

Flora thought there was a great deal of truth in some of Wilhelmina's remarks. But she felt that it would be dangerous to take the doings of such an odd mortal for precedents in any case; and she was justified in her opinion by Miss Carr, the moment the table was cleared, calling for hot water, brandy, and wine.

"Do you smoke?" she cried, producing a box of cigars from the closet, and a long Turkish pipe. Then, drawing down the window-curtains, she tucked her legs under her upon the sofa, and commenced filling, from a beautiful inlaid silver box, her hooker, with its finely-ornamented bowl and amber mouthpiece.

Flora looked her astonishment, as she said,-

"Miss Carr, do you _really_ smoke?"

"Do I know what is good?" said Wilhelmina. "Did you never see a woman smoke before?"

"Yes, Irish barrow-women in London; and I thought it odd, even for them."

"They were wise women, my dear, and knew how to appreciate the merits of the weed. The Irish are a clever people-a very clever people. You remember, that I am Irish by the mother's side, and have retained one of the national tastes. But it was not in Ireland, nor in the streets of London, sitting upon a fruit-woman's barrow, that I learned the pleasures of smoking. It was in the East, with all its pretended romance, and real humbug, that I acquired what you consider an unfeminine accomplishment. I saw fat, turbaned men sitting cross-legged in every bazaar, dozing over their huge pipes, in a sort of dreamy helplessness; and I determined to fathom the mystery of their enjoyment, and find out the grand secret.

"The first few whiffs I took made me very sick and stupid. 'Courage,'

said I, not in the least disheartened-

"'Pleasure cometh after pain, Sunshine cometh after rain- Wilhelmina, try again.'

And I did try, for I was determined not to be beaten by these long-bearded, long-petticoated men; and the next trial was crowned with complete success.

"Now, Mrs. Lyndsay, is it not a shame that these selfish men should be tamely allowed by us foolish women to monopolise all the good things of life, and make that criminal in a female which they cannot deny themselves? You don't know how much you lose, by being frightened by their bl.u.s.tering into pa.s.sive obedience, and persuaded that what is good for a man is quite out of keeping with a woman. Do, just by way of ill.u.s.tration to my argument, try one of those fragrant cigars. They are of the best quality-real Havana-'pon honour."

"You must excuse me," said Flora, laughing-as Miss Wilhelmina's head dimly loomed through clouds of smoke-"I have no wish to acquire such a taste."

"You're a little fool," puffed forth Wilhelmina. "But I hope to make something out of you yet. Take a gla.s.s of wine."

"I never drink anything but water, excepting at breakfast and tea."

"Water! Fiddle-faddle. A tumbler of hot punch will do you no harm. I am going to mix some in the most scientific manner."

"Only think what Lyndsay would say," cried Flora, "if he should come in, and find me smoking a cigar, and drinking brandy punch? He would never forgive me-I could never forgive myself."

"All stuff and nonsense; I am certain he would neither refuse one of these cigars, nor a tumbler of this excellent punch. Does he never smoke?"

"Oh, yes; a cigar, sometimes."

"And takes a gla.s.s of toddy-or he's no Scot."

"Occasionally, with a friend."

"A male friend, _of course_. He takes snuff, for I have seen him do it; and this, between ourselves, is a far dirtier habit than smoking. I hate snuff; it always reminds me of a lecture I once heard upon that subject in America. The lecturer was a methodist; and he spoke very vehemently against the use of tobacco in any shape; but snuff-taking seemed to rouse him up, and inflame his indignation to a pitch of enthusiasm. 'If the Almighty,' he said, 'had intended a man's nose for a dust-hole, he would have turned up the nostrils the other way.' These were his very words; and to me they were so convincing, that I discarded from that moment all idea of becoming a snuff-taker."

Wilhelmina emptied her tumbler of brandy and water, which she as quickly replenished. These strong potations began to take effect-her eyes danced in her head, and she became so strangely excited, that Flora wished devoutly that she was safe at home. Presently her odd companion laid aside her pipe, pushed from before her the now empty tumbler, and, rising abruptly, exclaimed-

"I've had enough."

Flora thought that she might have come to that conclusion half an hour before.

"I'm not intoxicated," she said: "I only drink enough to raise my spirits, and drive away the blue devils. And now for a little music."

She sat down to the piano.

"I play entirely from ear, Mrs. Lyndsay; I leave you to judge if I have not an exquisite taste. Here is a march I composed this morning for Captain Lyndsay's black regiment-Hottentot of course. You say he plays well himself. He cannot fail to admire it. I will write it out for him to-morrow."

Of all Miss Carr's strange whims, the idea she entertained of her being a great musician, was the most absurd. She rattled over the keys at a tremendous rate, striking them with such force that she made the instrument shake. It was a mad revel-a hurricane of sound, yet, not without a certain degree of eccentric talent. In the midst of a tremendous pa.s.sage there came a knock at the door.

"That's my husband," said Flora, rising, glad to get away.

It was only the maid.

"You are no prophet," said Miss Carr, rattling on; "you must stay till I give you _Napoleon's Pa.s.sage of the Alps_. I wrote it on the spot. It is a grand thing. I mean to publish it one of these days."

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.