“I don’t think anyone could resist her. Even her foster-father was obliged to consent to this plan when she asked him, though he wanted to put a stop to our engagement at once and get me packed off here for good. I must say the man behaved uncommonly well, though, about it, and acted with the feelings of a gentleman, though he is only a peasant. He said he knew it would be exceedingly disagreeable to me to have to discuss the subject of my marriage with a poor man like him, so he went to Mr. Leslie and put the matter in his hands, asking him to speak to me, and so the very day after I was engaged to Fairy I had a letter from Leslie, asking me to call on him the next morning. I went, little dreaming what he wanted to see me about, and there I was closeted with him the whole morning, and a nice state of mind I was in when I heard I was never to see my Fairy again unless my father consented to our marriage. However, Leslie I soon found, though at first he was on stilts, was on my side, and we arranged the little conspiracy I have just told you, for he thinks with me if my father can only see her apart from her foster-parents, he will be so favourably impressed with her that he will eventually give his consent. But Leslie would only promise to help me on condition I left England at once; he would not even agree to my seeing Fairy again, though he promised to go and tell her at once what we had planned, and he consented to my writing to her once a week.
“I went back to Oafham, intending to return home at the end of the week without seeing Fairy again, though I did not know how to keep away from her. But, to my joy, Mr. Leslie walked over the next morning, and told me I might go that afternoon and say good-bye, for Fairy had spent the whole of the previous day in crying and saying, ‘I want my Rex,’ ‘I will have my Rex,’ ‘I don’t care what John says, I will have my Rex;’ so when the shepherd came home that evening he went to Leslie at once, before he had his supper, and said he could not bear to see his little sunbeam in tears, and I might go and bid her good-bye. So I went, and found her as bright as ever, and Mrs. Shelley laughing at her and saying she wished everyone’s sorrows were as shortlived as Fairy’s, who cried for her lover for a whole day, as if she were crying for a doll, like the child she was; and then the shepherd, who had always spoilt her, sent for me, and gave his wife a good scolding for letting me go to the house in the first instance. But I shall tire you out with my tales of Fairy. I could talk of her all day long and all night, too,” said Rex.
“Well, you must stop and dine with us. Arnaud will be glad to see you again. You won’t tell him about it, I suppose?”
“No, certainly not. Please don’t tell him a word, will you? My mother would not like it if she knew I had told you; but, you see, it would never do for me to tell my people under present circumstances.”
The baroness promised not to mention it to her husband, little thinking that the Fairy in question was no other than her long-lost and now forgotten daughter. It never for one moment occurred to her that such a thing could be possible, for she had never doubted that the child had perished in the Hirondelle with Léon. Nor was she at all aware that her husband doubted this, and cherished a secret hope that one day he might find his long-lost treasure. Perhaps had she known this she might have begged Rex’s permission to mention this mysterious love of his to Arnaud; and one thing is certain, had she done so the baron would not have rested until he had been to Lewes and made every inquiry, and in all probability he would have discovered the truth.
On such trifles as we count them does the whole course of our lives turn. One word from the baroness to her husband, and that word might—and in all probability would—have led to the recovery of their child; but that word was not spoken, and Fairy remained at the shepherd’s.
Very slowly indeed did those two months of September and October pass for Rex, and as the baroness was his only confidante, it was natural that he should spend a great deal of his time at Château de Thorens; and when the baron and his sons were present, since he could not talk of Fairy, he was never tired of talking of the Lewes carnival, to which he looked forward with such impatience. Indeed, he so fired the imagination of the baron with his description of the wonderful doings which were to take place, that there was at one time some talk of the baron going over with M. de Courcy and Rex; but Père Yvon put his foot on this arrangement, by objecting to Arnaud’s being present at a demonstration against Roman Catholics; and as Rex could not deny that he believed part of the proceedings consisted in mobbing the Roman Catholics of the town, and in travestying some of their sacred rites, the baron abandoned his scheme, for he was a devout Romanist, and submitted to Père Yvon’s authority in all spiritual matters.
At last the first of November dawned, and that day Rex and his father crossed the Channel, hoping to reach Oafham in due time for the wild revels of the fifth.
(To be continued.)