The carriage took the ladies and their maid to a small town, some twelve miles off. They put up at the hotel. Next morning they took tickets by the steamer to Geneva, but less than half-way they got out at a small village, Auray, a little place totally devoid of interest, a mere hamlet never visited by the tourist; here they took a lodging, humble enough, but clean, in the house of a well-to-do widow. It was from this lodging that Georgie posted a letter containing the following advertisement, which appeared in the Times:
"At the Villa Lambert, Canton of Geneva, Switzerland, the wife of Reginald Haggard, Esq., of a son. August 20, 18—."
The cousins exchanged rôles. Lucy became Madame Haggard, while Georgie was addressed by the discreet Hephzibah as Mademoiselle Warrender.
The whole thing had evidently been carefully planned by Lucy for some time previously. She had even with infinite art written numerous letters to their relatives and friends, in which she dilated upon the strange reticence of "dear Georgie" as to the whole matter. Needless to say these letters were all dated from the Villa Lambert. In her letter to Haggard, and in her more formal communication to the head of the family, the old earl at Walls End Castle, she explained how her cousin had kept the whole matter secret as a surprise for her husband; and how she, the guileless Lucy, had been unwillingly compelled to participate in the deception. All was thus satisfactorily explained as the whim of the young wife.
How she had purchased the silence of the invaluable maid it is difficult to say, whether by bribes, promises or cajolery; but Hephzibah Wallis was the servant of the Warrenders, born and bred on their land, discreet and silent.
In ten days they returned to the villa, Mrs. Haggard wrapped up as a young convalescent mother; the little bastard clothed in purple and fine linen as became his expectations as Reginald Haggard's heir. Georgie was pale, great black rings surrounded her eyes; she leant heavily on the arm of the invaluable Capt, as she stepped out of the carriage which had conveyed her from the nearest wharf. But Lucy's cheery laugh, though it failed to bring a smile to the face of her cousin, soon dominated the inhabitants of the Villa Lambert. Hephzibah, full of that added dignity which every woman assumes as the guardian of an infant, sat enthroned before a blazing fire, for in Switzerland in August the evenings are chilly. It was her custom never to address Mr. Capt, save on official matters, when a third person was present. On the present occasion she went further than this, for she declined even to answer him.
Capt had bustled about, had brought in the luggage, had handed their letters to his mistresses, had received the thanks of Miss Lucy Warrender for his tasteful floral decoration of the little salon, and had then suddenly subsided into an attitude of respectful admiration in front of Haggard's supposed heir. To no man or male person, save perhaps to their own fathers or their medical attendants, are very young infants objects of interest; we may therefore safely presume that Mr. Capt was either really wrapped up in the severe charms of the student of the "Dairyman's Daughter," or that he had some occult and ulterior reason for remaining to study the little group at the fireside.
"Ah, madame," exclaimed the major-domo, as he washed his hands in the air, "you will not think it a liberty when I respectfully felicitate you." But no answering smile appeared on Mrs. Haggard's face.
"Certainly not," burst in the younger girl; "you are the first of our friends to do so, Capt," she said, with an almost perceptible emphasis on the word; "but we are both of us knocked up with the bustle, so get us some tea at once."
The humbly sympathizing friend became once more the respectful servant, and hurried away to carry out his young mistress's behest.