After an interval, Sir Jasper felt that he ought to slip across to Paris himself, if only to make sure that his daughter and ward were "not getting into mischief, or having their heads filled with ideas." No sooner said than done and, posting to Dover, he took the packet. Having relieved his mind as to the welfare of the two girls, he turned his attention to other matters. As he had anticipated, a number of his old comrades who had settled in Paris gave him a warm welcome and readily undertook to "show him round." He enjoyed the experience. Life was pleasant there, and the theatres and cafés were attractive and a change from the austerities of Bath. The ladies, too, whom he encountered when he smoked his cheroot in the Palais Royal gardens, smiled affably on the "English Milord." Some of them, with very little encouragement, did more. "No nonsense about waiting for introductions."
But, despite its amenities, Paris in the early 'thirties was not altogether a suitable resort for British visitors. The political atmosphere was distinctly ruffled. Revolution was in the air. Sir Jasper sniffed the coming changes; and was tactician enough to avoid being engulfed in the threatened maelstrom by slipping back to England with his young charges in the nick of time. Others of his compatriots, not so fortunate or so discreet, found themselves clapped into French prisons.
Returning to the tranquillity of Bath, things resumed their normal course. Sir Jasper nursed his gout (changing his opinion of French cooking, to which he attributed a fresh attack) and the girls picked up the threads they had temporarily dropped.
Always responsive to her environment, Lola expanded quickly in the sympathetic atmosphere of the Nicolls household. Before long, Montrose, with its "blue Scotch Calvinism," was but a memory. Instead of being snubbed and scolded, she was petted and encouraged. As a result, she grew cheerful and vivacious, full of high spirits and laughter. Perhaps because of her mother's Spanish blood, she matured early. At sixteen she was a woman. A remarkably attractive one, too, giving--with her raven tresses, long-lashed violet eyes, and graceful figure--promise of the ripe beauty for which she was afterwards to be distinguished throughout two hemispheres. Of a romantic disposition, she, naturally enough, had her affaires. Several of them, as it happened. One of them was with an usher, who had slipped amorous missives into her prayer-book. Greatly daring, he followed this up by bearding Sir Jasper in his den and asking permission to "pay his addresses" to his ward. The warrior's response was unconciliatory. Still, he could not be angry when, on being challenged, the girl laughed at him.