THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.
(Continued from page [255].)
Jack dropped the subject of the outing, and did not again refer to it till the evening before the fête. Estelle had been very eager to see the dancing at the Fontaine des Eaux, which was to begin at six o'clock that evening. Mrs. Wright had consented, and both were ready to start by five. It was quite half an hour's walk, but the way being on level ground when once the village was reached, Mrs. Wright was equal to the exertion.
Estelle, dressed in well-made (Mrs. Wright was an excellent dressmaker) but quite plain, dark blue serge, was putting on a neat white sailor hat, when Jack took advantage of her absence to say,
'Don't you think she would be satisfied with this evening's amusement, Mother? Must we take her to the fête to-morrow?'
'At it again, Jack? Why, what should hinder our taking her? I can't think what has come to you that you make so many objections.'
Estelle came dancing into the room, in the wildest of spirits, and Jack felt as if he were cruel to wish to disappoint her. Putting aside his feelings, he determined that, as she was to go, she should enjoy herself.
Estelle had been to the Fontaine des Eaux several times in her walks with Jack. It was a favourite spot of hers. The way lay through the village, across the rickety old bridge, and up the narrow valley to the left, following the course of the river. The green hills on each side had all the bright freshness of early spring, but the real beauty of the walk was the Fontaine des Eaux itself. Here the valley broadened out into a wild and lovely glen; the hills were wooded to their base; the river, roaring and dashing over its rocky bed, followed the sweep of the hills to the left, leaving a wide, grassy expanse on the right which stretched to the foot of the hills, where it was broken up by a tangle of rocks, wild flowers, and brushwood.
Here there were seats for the spectators of the dance. A rough sort of shed had been run up, and boarded for those who feared night dews, or early morning chills. Near the Fontaine, a little bubbling spring of clear water fringed with delicate ferns and 'morning glory,' was a refreshment booth, which appeared to be driving a thriving trade when the little party of English arrived.
Everybody was in gala dress; everybody beamed with joy. The white caps and beautifully embroidered bodices of the women—though their dresses were all either black or dark blue—lent a brightness to the crowd; a bright touch was added by the gay shawls of the elder dames, and the broad slouch hats and flapping white collars of the men, got up in their best.