Five times had the hill orchards blazed into blossom, the Alpine wild
flowers spread their radiance over the slopes, and the white stillness
of winter descended on the scene, and yet the English lady remained
faithful to Les Plans. She had become a part of the household, but
Cara, who adventured her young tendrils further than the farm, had many
resources and associates in the neighbourhood--though her pretty mother
contented herself with the company of Frau Hurter, her books, and her
needle. Owing to an acute financial crisis, the piano had been sold.
Letty had a horror of debt, and when she made reckless purchases, paid
for her generosity by hours and weeks of close and incessant labour,
the result being a wan face and agonising headaches. Then Frau Hurter,
with downright speech, would drive her forth for walks, and clamour
fiercely for half holidays.
“_Mein Frau_, you will have an illness, and a bad one,” she would say;
“and the doctors, they eat up money. Ach ye! you sit all day stitch,
stitch. You must have our good fresh air and exercise, or you may
die--and then where would Mitli be, and I?”
So Letty, with Karo as her companion, took the holidays and long walks
and roamed over the mountains along goat-paths, and by quaint old
farms, and weather-worn brown chalets. Her thoughts were not _always_
happy; sometimes she felt a touch of soul-ache; for the warm blood of
youth still throbbed in her veins. It was true, that she had Cara, and
Cara’s love was hers; but then she was but nine years old, and her
natural disposition was unresponsive. How she longed for a companion
of her own country, and her own age--someone whose ideas soared beyond
school-fellows and sweets--and it struck her painfully at times, that
Cara avoided her! Often, when she descended to fetch her darling home,
the child would slip from her side, and attach herself to a class-mate,
and whisper eager confidences,--leaving her deserted parent to walk
alone; or when of an evening she was ready to help with lessons, dress
dolls, and play games, Cara would suddenly jump up, and exclaim:
“Oh, this is stupid! stupid! I am going to look for Fritz.”
But if subsequently a warm arm stole round Letty’s neck, and a soft
cheek were laid on hers, certain dark misgivings were scattered to the
winds, and the spirit of patient confidence resumed its sovereignty.
Occasionally she went to Lucerne--commercial excursions, connected
with the sale of her work--and would treat herself to a concert at
the Casino, an organ recital at the Hof Kirche, or visit friends in
the Wienplatz and the Weggisgasse. Her beauty, though unadorned, was
far too striking to be overlooked. This lovely and lonely young lady,
was stared at, followed, accosted. Strangers--dealt with by Frau
Hurter--and letters, came to Les Plans--offers of marriage were not
unknown! A wealthy merchant from Milan; a dark handsome Spaniard,
presented himself as an anxious suitor for the hand of the exquisite
young widow--a lady to whom he had never spoken, but whose dazzling
beauty and air of breeding, had captured his heart. A clever engineer
from Berne, also wrote impassioned and insistent love-letters.
“Tell them, Frau Hurter, that I have a husband in England,” said Letty
with tremulous energy.
“A husband! and I thought Madame a widow.”
“No; but we shall never meet again. I was very, very unhappy, and I ran
away with Cara.”
“Jesus Maria! and now I see why Madame has no correspondence--no
English visitors.”
“Yes, Frau Hurter, and if more Suisse visitors and Suisse letters
persecute me, I shall go to another place, and find accommodation in a
convent, where Cara can learn, and I can work, unmolested.”
Naturally such a move was the last thing Frau Hurter desired. She loved
money, and could not endure to part with a lodger, who gave no trouble,
paid extravagantly, ‘as per agreement,’ and to the day.
“Madame does not wish to be found nor disturbed? _I_ will see to that,”
declared Frau Hurter, looking forbiddingly, grim, “and let people know
that she is not as they suppose, a widow. Yet Madame is too young to
lead the life of a nun--all work, no companions, no pleasure.”
“I only ask to be left alone. I am much happier here than in England.
My husband was not kind to me.”
Frau Hurter’s thoughts turned to her own mate; the dark-eyed Italian
mason, whom the cruel cold had put to death, and alas! she realised,
that she too had been cold, to that warm-hearted child of the sun.
Well, she was making up for her neglect by a double devotion to their
boy.
And now at last behold an English visitor for Mrs. Glyn! After many
delays, broken promises, and lengthy telegrams, Mrs. Hesketh came out
to Switzerland and engaged rooms at the Hôtel de Paradis--just half
a mile below Les Plans. She was welcomed at Lucerne Station by Letty
and her daughter; the former, unexpectedly young and unchanged,--but
a little behind the fashion as to hat and costume. Cara, a well-grown
girl of ten, with bright pink cheeks, and eyes the colour of a
turquoise, wearing a smart embroidered frock and sash, with an air of
overwhelming self-consciousness.
They lunched at the ‘Schweizerhof,’ the guests of the traveller, and to
the unconcealed delight of Cara,--who had never been inside the hotel
till then. She stared at everything and everyone, with sharp, observant
glances, and her godmother noted her appetite for piquante sauces, and
the richest sweets; also that her blue eyes were hard, with a will and
definite purpose, and cast sly quick glances on herself,--as if curious
to know the effect she was producing.
Naturally with this little ‘pitcher’ present, there was no opportunity
for any confidential talk between the grown-ups. Mrs. Hesketh
discoursed of home, her journey, and other ordinary topics, and in the
lounge after _déjeuner_, Cara stuck to the ladies like the proverbial
leech, and was sublimely indifferent to her mother’s timid hint, that
‘she might care to look at the new illustrated papers.’ No, indeed,
Cara preferred to listen to this interesting new arrival; her talk was
a novelty, she liked to stare at her expensive travelling-dress, her
splendid rings, and little jewelled watch. She had nice luggage too,
and a maid, and must be rich. Mrs. Hesketh was her godmother, and it
was the well-known duty, and the _raison d’être_ of a godmother, to
give expensive presents.
After the trip down the lake, Mrs. Hesketh received Letty in her
charming sitting-room at the ‘Paradis,’ and said, as she closed the
door:
“_Now_ we can talk a little, my dear. But where is Cara?”
“She has gone out on the water with Fritz.”
“Do you mean that handsome lad who met us at the boat?”
“Yes. They are old playmates. Please tell me, what you think of Cara,”
she asked eagerly.
“Her appearance, I suppose you mean? Cara does you credit, a fine girl,
who will develop into a fine woman. She has your colouring, with her
aunt’s physique.”
“Oh, no, no--how can you say so!”
“You have done your utmost; the child is well nourished, well dressed,
well drilled, and has been given a good conceit of herself--anyone can
see that _she_ has walked on the sunny side of the road!”
“I have done my best, Cousin Maude.”
“That is evident; and now, my dear, I have a question to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“Was it worth it? Come, Letty, give me a straight answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean running off with the child, forfeiting your income, your
country, your friends--yes--and your lover--all to come out here, have
Cara to yourself, and work hard for her support.”
She paused for a moment. Then, as Letty was preparing to answer,
resumed:
“Is she your real treasure? Does she adore her mother? In short, Letty,
is this girl your _compensation_?”
Here was a direct, startling, and unexpected question. For a moment
Letty hesitated; as in a flash, memory brought to her, Cara’s tempers,
her tyranny of Les Plans, her iron will, her secrecy--but oh, what
cruel, cruel, disloyal thoughts! How could a _mother_ harbour them?
Looking up straight into her confessor’s eyes, she replied:
“I have no regrets, and I would do it again!”
“Ah--would you!” the tone was dubious. “Lately it has seemed to me,
my dear, that your letters were terribly depressed--that is to say,
reading between the lines.”
“Well, of course, sometimes one is lonely, and longs to do things, and
to see people.”
“If you had only played your cards properly, Blagdon would have made
the girl over to you--and with a respectable allowance. He did not know
what to do with her; Lady Rashleigh couldn’t endure her, and his mother
is too infirm to undertake a lively grandchild.”
“I don’t agree with you. If Hugo thought I wanted Cara, he would have
kept her, for that very reason.”
“I hear he has gone in more than ever for racing, with Sir Tom as his
guide, and has burnt his fingers rather badly. It is said he wishes to
marry again, an heiress or a rich widow; meanwhile Connie Rashleigh
lives with him most of the year.”
“And Mrs. Corbett?”
“No--as soon as she heard that her husband had made a huge fortune in
the Argentine, she patched up a truce, and went out to spend it.”
“And the Dentons--how are they?”
“Much as usual--getting a little older and greyer, By the way, do you
ever hear from Lancelot?”
“No,” colouring; “of course not--never.”
“He is rising rapidly in his profession----” She paused. No need to
tell Letty that he was at present on leave in England. “Frances, as you
know, is still Miss Lumley. How is it, that all the minxes get snapped
up, and the treasures are left?”
To this question, her companion made no reply. Had not she herself,
been, so to speak, ‘snapped up’?
* * * * *
Every day Mrs. Hesketh and her friend spent many hours in each other’s
company; either Letty descended to the hotel, or Mrs. Hesketh climbed
to Les Plans. Many an afternoon she sat out in the garden or the
orchard, enjoying the view, and Frau Hurter’s incomparable coffee,
and she rubbed up her rusty German in order to converse with this
stern-looking, industrious widow, who owned and worked the prosperous
farm; rising at daybreak to see to the poultry and milking, her
knitting rarely out of her capable hands, and knitting furiously all
the while she talked.--It was her boast, that never in her life had
she bought a stocking or a sock! The new-comer could see, that in her
downright phlegmatic fashion, Freda Hurter was fond of her English
inmate, and very proud of her appearance--such a contrast to her own
deeply lined, hard-featured visage! But how it changed, and brightened
when she spoke of Fritz. Yes, he was a clever fellow, and was to be
educated in Zurich; afterwards he would come home to the farm, and take
some day a wife, and she--her work done--would sit in the sun, and read
her Bible.
Letty conducted her visitor to all her favourite haunts, and walks,
exhibited the _Ku Stal_, and ‘Mogli,’ her tame pet cow, who knew her
so well--a famous dun giving, when in full milk, twenty-four litres
a day. Mrs. Hesketh took stock of Les Plans and its surroundings,
her quick eyes made notes of the Josts; brown and rugged as two old
leafless trees, determination, avarice, and honesty, engraved upon
their faces. Nor did she fail to observe handsome Fritz, with his dark,
expressive eyes, and beaming Cara, his constant attendant; the girl was
a born hoyden--could row, skate, climb, and yodel. No doubt healthy
outdoor life was an excellent outlet for her overpowering spirits, and
activity. She was evidently a favourite among the farm-folk, with the
exception of Jost’s wife, and the dog Karo,--who slunk away when Cara
approached, and growled if she teased him.
It seemed to the onlooker, that the girl was something of a tyrant, who
accepted all favours as her unquestionable right. Her mother’s love,
and devotion, the indulgence of her companions--over whom she governed
as a despotic monarch. Whatever Mitli said or wished was law: for _she_
ruled Fritz, who ruled his mother, who ruled Les Plans.
One afternoon her mother and godmother sat together under a shady
plane tree on the hill-side, Karo extended at their feet, occasionally
snapping at flies, or, laying his head in Letty’s lap, adoring her with
his deep, soft eyes.
“So you say, that Cara wants to go to the Convent at Lucerne after next
term?” said Mrs. Hesketh.
“Yes, with two or three of her friends. I hear it highly recommended.
She would be a daily boarder.”
“And after the Convent--when the girl considers herself educated--what
then?”
“I have not thought of that yet.”
“Then my dear, the sooner you begin to think of it the better; you
cannot keep Cara on a Swiss farm all her days; she is not that type.
Cara is for towns, and cities.”
“Oh, well, after all she is only ten,” protested her mother. “No need
to worry about _her_ future yet. Isn’t it a perfect afternoon, Cousin
Maude?”
It was, indeed; there was magic in the air. Across the lake, the wooded
slopes dipped into emerald and silver; high up beyond woods and crags,
outlined against a blue, blue sky, was the snowy range; every ridge and
peak bathed in delicate rose-colour--truly these were the mountains of
Fairyland: close by the friends, an urgent stream sang on its way to
the lake, and all around was green luxuriance, tinkling cow-bells, and
the faint perfume of fruit, and flowers.
Mrs. Hesketh withdrew her gaze from the prospect, to fix them on her
companion. Here was a face and figure in complete harmony with the
exquisite scene; she studied Letty’s slender grace, her clouds of soft
hair (darker than formerly), the perfect outlines of cheek and feature,
and the long lashes sweeping the flawless skin. Truly a haunting
picture! If the view was one to lure the hurried traveller,--here was a
beauty to lure mankind.
“Yes, Cara is only ten,” began Mrs. Hesketh suddenly. “As for you,
Letty, who are young--without youth.”
“What about me?” she asked with a smile. “I am getting on for _three_
times ten!”
“You are, and you are wasting your life here--youth--beautiful
youth--is passing, and why, oh, why don’t you value it? This I know is
the cry of age and regret: I am an old woman, I am satisfied to sit
still, and be a spectator; but you, who are twenty-eight, and have
golden years awaiting you, oh, how _can_ you endure this existence of
passionless monotony?”
Amazed by such an unusual outburst, Letty replied:
“I have Cara, plenty of occupation, and no cares.”
“No cares!” echoed her companion, and she gave a shrill laugh. “Even
at Les Plans, Care may put his head in at the door. Voyaging in smooth
waters--has its risks. Another thing, it is not good for Cara to lead
this wild, independent life; she ought to be at home associating with
girls of her own class. Listen to me, Letty,” laying as she spoke an
impressive hand on her knee, “I am a lonely woman; I am fond of you.
Suppose you and your girl come over to England, and make your home with
_me_?”
But in spite of a loving, eloquent, and insistent invitation Letty
could not be induced to abandon Les Plans.
“I love you, and I am grateful, dearest Cousin Maude, my friend from
the first; but here I am at home, and here I feel _safe_.”
“What is there to fear now?” demanded Mrs. Hesketh. “Blagdon will never
trouble you; but should he do so, I will deal with him--leave him to
me.”
“He would take Cara from me, and just at the critical age, when her
character is forming.”
“Her character _is_ formed,” rejoined the other, with conviction. As
she spoke, her eyes were fixed upon a neighbouring apple tree, with
Fritz among its shaking branches; immediately below, stood an expectant
figure with an imperious voice, and outstretched skirts.
“I have a terrible presentiment,” continued Letty, “so keen, that it
actually hurts me.”
“Bah,” scoffed Mrs. Hesketh, “I don’t believe in such things,--in
absolutely nothing beyond the range of sense. Why go to meet trouble
half way? What is your bug-a-boo?”
“That Hugo will find us yet--and take Cara from me.”
“My dear, I can assure you, that if Cara is taken--against her will--as
I believe would be the case--she will make her father rue the day, and
bitterly repent of his folly in sackcloth and ashes. For my part,” she
went on courageously, “I wish to goodness, he _would_--steal her!”
“Oh, Cousin Maude!” cried Letty, turning to her a glowing face, “what a
cruel, cruel thing to wish!”
“Possibly it was; but honestly I feel, as they say in Norfolk, ‘as if
I’d like to do someone an injury,’ when I think of the years that your
locust has eaten.”
This announcement, transfixing and incredible, had the effect of
reducing Letty to absolute silence. Sometimes Cousin Maude had odd
moods and made wild and extraordinary statements; on such occasions it
was prudent to be mute.
Presently they rose, and wandered back to the farm, and were greeted by
Cara, who came bounding to meet them, screaming at the top of her voice:
“Tea is ready, and I’m so hungry--there’s hot cakes and cherry jam!”
A few days later, Mrs. Hesketh ordered a sleeping-berth, and prepared
to return to Thornby, where important law business awaited her.
“How I shall miss you,” said Letty, as they took their last walk
together by the lake-side, and watched the lights begin to twinkle in
far-away Lucerne. “It will be worse for me, than if you had never come.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” rejoined her friend; “it is only in story-books
that people are missed. As for you,--you have the remedy in your own
hands.”
But Letty’s determination was unshaken, and, as her companion angrily
declared:
“You are always strong and obstinate, where you ought to be yielding;
and yielding, where you should be firm.”
Mrs. Hesketh departed, and left behind her such an aching void, that
more than once Letty, the obstinate, found her resolve sorely shaken,
and felt half inclined to take all risks, and follow her friend to
England.