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.