FLORA'S RED-HEADED COUSIN.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 67, 13 September 1884, Page 5

FLORA'S RED-HEADED COUSIN.

Nimrod Odlin, like his namesake of old, was a " mighty hunter"— not of the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air, for it s doubtful if his knowledge of firearms enabled him to tell whether the powder or the shot went foremost— but a fortune hunter, which, as the genial Artemus used to say, is "far different." Fifteen years of unsuccessful trial would have discouraged a less ardent sportsman. But Nimrod had begun early, and was yet only thirty-five, having nearly all his hair and most of his teeth. There was a suspicion of grey about the temples, but by weaving earlocks, well combed forward, it was pretty well quieted; and a slight tendency to corpulence was kept within bounds by a daily course of dumbbells before breakfast, long walks before breakfast, long walks before dinner, and scientific starvation according to Banting. Under all circumstantes he saw no reason for giving up hope, which, as the doctors tell us, is never to be yielded while life and physic hold out. Once or twice Nim— to use his every -day name— came very near bagging his bird : but, just at the critical moment, another ot richer plumage came whirring by, in pursuit of which he left the first, only to be led a long illusive chase and left to sad comparisons, at last, between the value of a modest turtle in the hand and that of a golden pheasant in the bush. Flora Forsyth, in her nineteenth year, was the prettiest girl in the village— a fact to which the liveliest attention was awakened, in bachelor circles, when the death of a rich relation left her mistress of twenty thousand pounds in hard cash, with no provisos. Nim Odlin, especially, pricked up his ears. He had known Flora from her infancy, had patted her curly head approvingly, when a little girl, for repeating more "golden texts" than any other scholar in his class at Sunday-school. In later years Mr Odlin was too busy with other pursuits to take much notice of Flora. But he was a man of calculating mind, to whom a marriageable young lady, plus twenty thousand pounds, was what the mathematicians call a " rational quantity,' while without that, or any other portion, it would be quite irrational to think of her. Accordingly, among the first of those to pay homage to Flora and her fortune was Mr Nimrod Odlin. She received his attentions, if not quite complacently, at least without laughing at them — at any rate, before his face. Nimrod felt his way carefully, profiting by past experience, which had taught him that it was often quite as dangerous to be precipitate as too tardy. " Dear Flora '" he murmured, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. " I have loved you ever since " "You heard I had twenty thousand pounds," she -was on the point of interrupting, but checking herself, quietly asked : "When?" Mr Odlin seemed somewhat at a loss for dates, and after stammering a little, took refuge in the indefinite. "I have loved you for years," he whispered, softly. ' ' Dearest ! will you be mine ? Do not break my heart by saying no." " It won't break in two weeks, will it ?" asked Flora, her lips quivering in the struggle to keep back a rushing laugh. "Do not trifle with mo," he whined, dolorously, striving, but with indifferent success, to start a tear. " I only mean," said Flora, "that as your heart has stood on the strain 'for years,' it can probably hold out a fortnight longer ; and I must ask at least so much time to consider your most unexpected question." " You will consider it, then, and in two weeks give me an answer?" cried Nimrod, in a transport of hope. " Yes, if you keep in the same mind till then." " Till then /" he exclaimed, with fervour. "Aye, till then, and for ever." " Very well, Mr Odlin," said Flora, quietly, pointing to a chair. " Now, don't you tliink you had better take an easier position . You must be quite uncomfortable there." Nimrod looked a little sheepish, and took the offered seat. 11 Did you ever meet my cousin Beatrix ?" asked Flora, changing the subject. No ; Nimrod never had that pleasure. "She's to be at Aunt Hephvdbah's in a day or two. I should be pleased to introduce you, but she and I haven't spoken together of late. However, that needn't stand in the way. You know auntie very well, and if you call she'll be sure to present you to cousin Beatrix. She's not reckoned bad looking if she has red hair — though, for that matter, she has money enough to make it ; pass for golden. Why, she has fully as much as I have in ready cash, and is down in auntie's will for her whole fortune, which is at least as much more." Nimrod was beginning an earnest speech expressive of his contempt for riches where the heart is concerned, and his firm belief that chestnut— Flora's curls were chestnut —was the original colour of human hair, in man's perfect estate, anct that all other shades are perversions resulting from the Fall— but Flora cut his disquisition short by asking to be excused on the ground of a pressing engagement, and Mr Odlin took his leave, promisiag to return at the end of two weeks. Three days afterwards, our friend Nim made a friendly call on Aunt Hephzibah, and was formally introduced to |her niece, Miss Beatrix Tavistock, who had only arrive 1 the day before. Miss Tavistock, as Flora had said, was not a bad-looking girl. She was about her cousin's age, to whom in features and expression she had a strong family likeness. But her hair !— carroty ?— why, carrots would have paled before it. It was of so fiery a red that it fairly made Nimrod'3 eyes water. But as he thought of her twenty thousand in possession, and another twenty thousand in expectancy, and heard Aunt Hephzibah's hacking cough— he forgot just then that she had had it for twenty years — the effect of the hair began to wear off, and was quite forgotten at the end of half-an-hour, which sufficed to reveal the fact that Miss Tavistock was altogether the most engaging young lady he had ever met. Niravod repeated his visit next day, and the next, and for many succeeding days, and at every visit found Miss Beatrix more charming than at the last. Her treatment of him was decidedly more encouraging than Flora's had ever been. Indeed, he had not a little ingratiated himself by rather more than half way chiming in with some not very flattering criticisms of her cousin, indulged in by Miss Tavistock. It lacked but a day of the expiration of the two weeks. By this time Nimrod had reached the conclusion that some "shades of red were not inferior to chestnut—especially when backed by the odds of forty thousand pounds against twenty. He was furthermore convinced that if he popped the question to Beatrix he wouldu't have to wait two weekß for an answer, and that when it came^there wouldn't be any danger of its being no. But Nimrod was a prudent man. His proposal $0 Flora., while it remained unanswered. wa.s, of course, subject to withdrawal, and to withdraw it might avoid many u,npleasantfuture complications, And

as no time was to bo lost, he sat down at once, and addressed a note to Flora. We shall not give it verbatim, having no wish to furnish a form for the use of other fickle lovers. Enough to say it was a perfect model of a sneaking-out letter, full of lying excuses and brotherly professions of everlasting friendship. But why unnecessasily prolong our story? The scene that followed—up to a certain point was an an exact repetition of the one before described. Nimrod had gone through it so many times that there was no danger of his sticking. He sank again on the same knee, seized Beatrix's hand, and, in the same tone, made the same speech. At the words " Will you be mine ? Do not break my heart by saying no !" he bowed his head meekly, like a suppliant awaiting the answer whereon hangs life and death. As we have said, Nimrod had been through it all before, and knew the part perfectly. He waited, but the answer did not come. He felt a convulsive tremor of the hand in his. Doubtless Beatrix was too agitated to speak. He ventured to look up, started back, lost his balance, and fell into an attihide, rather less gracoful, but much more firmly poised than that he had just quitted. Instead of Beatrix, it was Flora he saw before him, and it was her hand he held ! With the other she held up a blazing red wig, while her own chestnut curls shook about her fair neck and shoulders with a ringing burst of laughter that shook her whole frame. Nimrod sprang to his feet and rushed out. We shall not repeat what he said on reaching the street.