“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?