CHAPTER XXV
AS it happened, the kidnapper was not an experienced nurse, or accustomed to the sole charge of a fractious child, and little Cara proved unexpectedly peevish and obstreperous. The trip across to Boulogne was well enough, but once in the railway carriage, nothing seemed to please or pacify her; fruit, pictures, chocolates, were but temporary alleviations; her one shrill continuous cry, repeated a ‘crescendo,’ was, “I want my Ninny—I want my Ninny! I want myNinny!” and the more her mother soothed and coaxed, the louder and more passionate became her screams. The miserable passengers in her compartment had no peace or rest, and thankfully parted at Bâle Station, with what a sleepless individual apostrophised, as, ‘that accursed brat.’ It was also with a sigh of profound relief that her worn-out and haggard mother, with the treasure in her arms, climbed down into the airy, spacious station of Lucerne. As soon as she had claimed her luggage, she drove off in a little open trap to a well-known and well-recommended hotel in the old town. Here, the fugitive remained sequestered for several days, gathering herself together before she made the next plunge.
She engaged a Swiss girl to help with Cara—a younglady that never could be left alone, and demanded incessant attention, and amusement. As she was carried through the streets, or walked on the Quai, her yellow hair and large blue eyes, attracted notice; people would exclaim and admire her, and so, early in her career, Miss Caroline Blagdon learned that she was a beauty, and ideas thus prematurely absorbed, remain firmly fixed throughout the remainder of a lifetime.
It was mid-August, and lovely Lucerne was at its brightest and busiest; the promenade under the trees on the Quai was almost impassable, the steamers plying on the lake were black with crowds, and every hotel and pension was crammed to the roof.
As Letty moved among the throng, and listened to the sounds of gay voices, to the well-known Milanese Orchestra, and felt the whirl of life about her: she seemed to be a new creature in a new world. Once she ventured into a tea-shop, but before she had been there five minutes, she recognised the prim faces and clear high bred treble of the two Miss Jessops,—who, plates in hand, were cautiously selecting cakes, and instantly abandoned her tea and fled.
On another occasion, she narrowly escaped recognition in an embroidery shop, where she was launching into a piece of wild extravagance on behalf of Cara, and felt convinced, that Lucerne in the high season was no place for a young woman who had recently stolen her child!
She therefore began to set about making enquiries concerning pensions, and farm-house apartments. Herlittle nursemaid Magda, was able to tell her of one that might suit; a farm on the left side of the lake, where her sister worked, and she knew that Frau Hurter’s boarder, a professor who wrote books, had recently left for Berlin, and the Frau was looking for another to replace him.
“Frau Hurter was a well-to-do widow with one son: she kept ten cows; there would at least be no harm if Madame were to make enquiries.”
No time like the present, and Madame, taking Magda as her guide, went down by the two o’clock boat—but fearful of being recognised, she remained below in the stifling cabin, instead of on deck enjoying all the glories of a superb afternoon. When the trio landed, Magda led the way, carrying the child by turns with her mistress.
After walking a mile, and passing an imposing hotel, they left the road for a rough cart-track, which wound up the hill-side amid laden orchards and prosperous chalets, till they arrived (in a somewhat breathless condition) at a faded signboard on which was inscribed ‘Les Plans, Pension.’ The pension, was a substantial residence of dark weather-beaten wood, it had a heavy peaked roof, bright green shutters, and a verandah. The approach by a flagged path, led through a garden which was at present a blaze of flowers: a mass of standard roses, lilies, hydrangeas, and clove pinks; further from the flagged path were apple and pear trees, standard gooseberry bushes, and plots of lettuce.
On the doorstep of the entrance lay stretched out abrown and white half-grown St. Bernard, and above the lintel was the date 1780. Thanks to the indulgence of the dog—an acquaintance of Magda’s—the trio entered. The interior of Les Plans appeared more ancient than the outside, with its green shutters and modern windows; there was a long, and heavily beamed passage, off which opened several rooms.
From one of these, a stout, middle-aged woman, wearing a particularly firm expression, and a large blue apron, advanced to enquire the lady’s pleasure.
The lady’s fluent German now came into exercise, and she informed Frau Hurter that she was in search of a comfortable farm-house, where she could have two airy, sunny rooms, and plenty of milk for the child.
“Your own little girl?” enquired the proprietor, with an air of surprise.Shehad not wedded till close on forty.
“I think I have what may suit. The Herr Professor occupied my rooms for four summers; now he has been called to a post in Berlin, and they are free.”
Then she led the way up very steep stairs to a landing corresponding to the hall below, ushered her visitor into two exquisitely clean rooms, one overlooking the lake, the other the slopes of the Rigi. The boards were bare, except for two or three home-made rugs; the beds were of the usual comfortable German pattern; tables covered with white cloths, two or three chairs and washstands, and that was all.
As Letty surveyed the apartments, and their square-facedupright owner, she assured herself that with a few little extras she could make her home here; there was always the matchless lake, with its changing colours and incessant traffic, the beautiful mountains, and no doubt there were appropriate and exhilarating walks. The whole place smelt of roses, the air was delicious; where could she find a better, or more secure retreat?
Frau Hurter now conducted her visitor down the break-neck stairs, in order that the English lady might view her surroundings, for this shrewd woman, thoroughly understood their marketable effect.
Before their eyes lay the flower garden, the spreading meadows, laden orchards, and the glittering lake. At the rear of Les Plans, rose a vast top-heavy structure, the cow-house—(that chief feature on a Swiss farm). The brown, weather-stained walls were almost concealed by venerable pear trees, whose yellow fruit hung in tempting profusion. The upper part of the building, was evidently occupied by human beings; from beneath came the incessant grunting of discontented pigs. Just at present, the great cow stalls stood empty, and high on the grassy hill-side, the ten dun cows were grazing under laden apple trees—for Les Plans was a combination of fruit orchard and dairy farm—their sturdy calves were learning life and independence, and a yearling bull, impeded by a log, swaggered about, with an air of grotesque importance. Each animal wore its bell, and the musical clanging of these, the hint of clear mountain air, and the verdure of the exquisite greenbackground, made an impression on Letty that she never forgot.
And now came the question of terms! The would-be boarder was helplessly ignorant of money matters; with Frau Hurter it was otherwise: she had learnt the art of barter as a child, had a solid balance in the bank of Lucerne, and was a capable and close-fisted widow, who had managed her own affairs for years. Needless to say she made a capital bargain.
“Would Madame be likely to stay long?” she enquired, expecting the reply to be a month or six weeks. She was amazed when Madame replied:
“If I am comfortable here, I shall remain possibly for years.”
“And Madame’s name?”
“My name,” she replied, “is Mrs. Glyn.”
“Is Madame a widow?” and the inquisitor searched her face with a stare of hard scrutiny.
To this question she replied:
“I am married—this little girl is my child. I will pay you a week in advance, and I must ask you to consider this information sufficient.”
Frau Hurter almost felt as if a dove had flown in her face! This beautiful English girl, who looked so young and simple, and was so easy about money, was not altogether as mild as she had supposed.
“Oh, very well,” she answered; “Madame’s affairs are her affairs.”
“We will come to-morrow,” announced Letty, “ifyou will send someone to meet the two o’clock boat, and bring our luggage.”
Thus the bargain was concluded, and sealed.
Before departure Frau Hurter conducted her future lodger around the luxuriant garden; she gave the child a cup of fresh milk, her mother a bunch of roses, and Letty walked down the rugged cart-track feeling more happy and elated than she had done for years. She would live in this lovely and secluded spot, where none of the troubles of the world could possibly overtake her.—Would they not?
Within two or three days of her installation at Les Plans, Letty found herself comfortably settled and at home. The family consisted of Frau Hurter, the hard-featured widow; her son Fritz, a handsome dark-eyed schoolboy; Magda’s sister Freda, a squat, rosy-cheeked young woman who laboured incessantly in house and dairy, whilst over the cows and pigs resided Hans Jost, and his consort. These were relatives of Frau Hurter, who looked after the cattle and the farm—a large one—and took the milk daily to a Laiterie or Molkerei, which supplied some of the Lucerne hotels. The heavy crops of apples and pears received attention, and cartloads of the latter were despatched to the great manufactory, to be converted into honey!
Little Cara, with her pretty face and caressing manners, soon became the idol of Les Plans: the petting and admiration hitherto conferred on Karo, the big, long-legged St. Bernard, were now transferred to ‘Mitli,’ as she was called,—a German-Swiss pet namefor a small child,—and Mitli soon became familiar with her court and its many resources, from the great tree of sweet yellow plums in the corner of the garden, to the boat which lay chained by the lake shore.
Her mother, too, made agreeable discoveries. There were lovely walks in the vicinity; her surroundings were soothing and reposeful, and she seemed to stand aside in a beautiful sheltered retreat, whilst all the world hurried by. The world, as typified in the white steamers, crowded with passengers, that passed continually up and down the lake; and within half a mile was situated a popular hotel, which in the season was always overflowing with fashionable guests. These, she occasionally encountered in walks, which she took accompanied by the deposed favourite, and more than one halted to look after the solitary beauty, and her attendant dog.
For once in her life, Letty was enjoying freedom and a certain amount of happiness; but here again, when memory drifted into deeper currents, she was constantly tormented by the remembrance of Lancelot—high-minded, generous, forbearing Lancelot, whom she loved, would always love, and yet had forsaken and lost.
Her good resolutions with respect to money were soon broken; she purchased some extra furniture for her two rooms, a reliable lamp, a tea-set, baths, and actually invested in a piano which cost, second-hand, thirty pounds—but her love for music almost amounted to a passion; the instrument was installed in FrauHurter’s quaint and low-pitched sitting-room, and here, when Cara was asleep, her mother enjoyed an hour or two of undiluted pleasure.
Frequent letters from Mrs. Hesketh were delivered at the farm, and Letty heard of the sensation created by her abduction, and how there had been flaring paragraphs in the papers, in which her name had figured; but soon interest had slackened—it was less than a nine days’ wonder.
“You will be left in peace with Cara,” wrote Letty’s friend, “Hugo will not set the detective after you; if your theft had been a son and heir, by this time you would be languishing in gaol.”
The season waned by degrees; many of the steamers were laid up, the great hotels closed, and winter descended from the mountains. By and by came grey short days, and Les Plans was swallowed up in snow. Letty had her piano and sewing, her books and her child: Frau Hurter and Freda were busy with knitting and spinning, Fritz with his lessons and outdoor games—and he sometimes condescended to play with Cara. His father had been Italian, and from him, he had inherited his dark eyes, and his gay temperament.
The climate proved trying to an unaccustomed foreigner, and the food was not appetising. In October, three of the dissatisfied pigs were slain, and made into ham and sausages, as provisions for the winter. As a menu of sausages, bread, coffee, and cheese palled after a time, the boarder supplemented the fare from her own purse, and secretly resolved to spend the next winter inLucerne itself, returning to Les Plans with the spring. By the end of the second year Mrs. Glyn found herself seriously embarrassed for money. Alas! the two hundred pounds had dissolved like snowflakes in the sun; she had been obliged to dismiss Magda, and was now nurse—a somewhat onerous post; she had wasted far too much on follies: such as embroideries and pretty shoes and hats for Cara, but whatever happened, and whoever was pinched, it shouldneverbe the child.
The pretty Englishwoman had made a few friends in the commercial world, who were impressed by her air, her beauty, her voice, and maternal devotion. Thanks to these kind friends in the Weggisgasse, she found music pupils, and had learnt to execute embroidery and lace, for which the town is famous, and was fortunate enough to find regular customers in one of the big shops; so that by working industriously, she became self-supporting, and was moderately content.
By the time Cara was a tall girl of eight, her mother felt that her home for life was on the Lake of Lucerne, and had accommodated herself to this conviction. On holidays, she and Cara went boating with Fritz, or made excursions up the mountains, whither Cara pleased—everything was done with the view of pleasing the child, who, well cared for, well dressed, and well amused, was an amazingly pretty, headstrong, and unmanageable girl.—Only as far as her mother was concerned—she was still a little in awe of Frau Hurter, and of Jost’s grim wife.
Cara had suffered herself to be taught her letters, and even mastered ‘Reading Without Tears’; but there she struck. History stories, and pretty maps were flouted, and flung on the floor, and to her teacher’s soft pleading—and even bribes—she interposed a will as hard and solid as a wall of rock. Cara persistently begged and teased to go to school in Mitzau; as usual she gained her point, and accompanied by her mother or Freda, went daily to an excellent seminary within a mile of Les Plans, where she associated with the children of the neighbouring farms. Among these, she soon became a prominent leader, and absorbed many facts and fancies, in addition to German Grammar, and the history of the Swiss Republic.