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 my
_Ninny_!” 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 young lady 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. Her little 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 a brown 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. _She_ had 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-faced upright
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 green
background, 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, “if you 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 name for 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 Frau Hurter’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 in Lucerne 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 should _never_
be 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.