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.