The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 357, October 30, 1886

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The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII,
No. 357, October 30, 1886

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357,
October 30, 1886, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone
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Title: The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 357, October 30, 1886
Author: Various
Release Date: June 4, 2006 [EBook #18501]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER.

VOL. VIII.--NO. 357.
OCTOBER 30, 1886.
PRICE ONE PENNY.

THE SHEPHERD'S FAIRY
A PASTORALE.
BY DARLEY DALE, Author of "Fair Katherine," etc.
[Illustration: "THE POOR LITTLE BARONESS, WHO WAS
ASLEEP, STARTED UP."]
CHAPTER V.
THE CHATEAU AFTER THE LOSS OF THE BABY.
As the baron had conjectured, the housemaid whom he had called out
of the nursery to look for Léon's cane, on finding her master had gone
without it, did not hurry back, but stopped talking to some of the other
servants for perhaps a quarter of an hour, when she returned to the
nursery, and to her amazement found the baby was gone. She was not
alarmed at first, except she supposed she should get a scolding from the
nurse, who she imagined had come in and taken the child to another
room; however, having the excellent excuse that her master had called
her away she went in search of the nurse, but now not finding her
anywhere, and hearing from the footman that she was not expected
back till very late, Marie became seriously alarmed.
"Perhaps madame has taken it into her room; she might have heard it
crying, and fetched it," suggested the footman, and Marie, very much
against her will, felt she was in duty bound to go and see.
So, knocking at her mistress's door, she called out, "Madame, has she
taken the baby?"

The poor little baroness, who was asleep, started up, and called to the
servant to come in.
"Madame, has she the baby?" repeated the girl.
"The baby? No, what do you mean? Where is it, and where is nurse?"
cried the baroness, jumping up and slipping on a dressing-gown and
slippers.
Marie began to cry, and to pour forth such a volley of words, excuses,
fears, alarms, and wonders that the baroness could make out nothing,
and rushed to the nursery to see for herself what had happened. The
empty cradle did not, however, throw much light upon it, and the
servants who answered the bell, which the baroness clashed wildly,
looked as scared as the sobbing Marie to find the baby had disappeared.
A search from attic to basement was at once instituted, the
men-servants were sent into the grounds with lanterns, the whole house
was turned topsy-turvy, in the midst of which the nurse returned, and
finding her baby was gone, went into violent hysterics, while the young
baroness, with flying hair and dilated eyes, rushed about, wringing her
hands, and looking, as she felt, distracted with grief.
The search was, of course, in vain, and they were just coming to the
conclusion that the baby had been stolen, when the baron returned from
seeing Léon off.
The moment the baroness heard his voice in the hall she flew down the
wide oak staircase, crying, "Arnaud! Arnaud! My precious baby is gone,
it is stolen; find her, find her, or I shall go mad." And a glance at her
wild eyes almost testified she spoke the truth.
"She is not stolen, she is safe enough," said the baron, sulkily.
"Safe? Where? Where? Take me to her, my precious one; where is
she?" cried the baroness, with a loud burst of hysteric laughter on
hearing her child was safe.
"Silence, Mathilde, don't behave in this ridiculous style. Come with

me," said the baron, in a tone his wife had never heard him use to her
before, and which had the effect of reducing her to tears; and, sobbing
wildly, she hung on her husband's arm as he half led, half carried her
upstairs, and laid her on a sofa in her own room.
"Now, Mathilde, if you will try and compose yourself, I will tell you
what I have done with the baby. For some time I have felt sure that you
were ruining the child's health by the absurd way in which you coddle
it up, and, moreover, making yourself a perfect slave to it, neglecting
all your other duties," began the baron, as he seated himself on the edge
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