DOI Artikel:
D'Arcy, Ella: Two stories
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.26393#0289
By Ella D’Arcy 285
“You remember, Renee, when mother took you the other day
to look over the pretty Villa-”
Renee opened wide, mute eyes.
“ Why did you cry ? ”
“ I was frightened of the lady,” she whispered.
“ Where was the lady ? ” asked Cecile.
“ She was in the drawing-room, sitting in the big chair.”
“Was she an old lady like grandmamma, or a young lady like
mother ? ”
“She was like Bonnemaman,” said Renee, and her little mouth
began to quiver.
“ And what did she do ? ”
“ She got up and began to—to come-”
But here Renee burst into tears again. And as she is a very
nervous, excitable child, we had to drop the subject.
But what it all meant, whether there was anything in the
history of the house or of its guardian which could account for
our sensations, we never knew. We made inquiries of course
concerning Laurent and the Villa Lucienne, but we learned very
little, and that little was so vague, so remote, so irrelevant, that it
does not seem worth while repeating.
The indisputable fact is the overwhelming fear which the
adventure awoke in each and all of us ; and this effect is impossible
to describe, being just the crystallisation of one of those subtle,
unformulated emotions in which only poor Guy himself could
have hoped to succeed.
“You remember, Renee, when mother took you the other day
to look over the pretty Villa-”
Renee opened wide, mute eyes.
“ Why did you cry ? ”
“ I was frightened of the lady,” she whispered.
“ Where was the lady ? ” asked Cecile.
“ She was in the drawing-room, sitting in the big chair.”
“Was she an old lady like grandmamma, or a young lady like
mother ? ”
“She was like Bonnemaman,” said Renee, and her little mouth
began to quiver.
“ And what did she do ? ”
“ She got up and began to—to come-”
But here Renee burst into tears again. And as she is a very
nervous, excitable child, we had to drop the subject.
But what it all meant, whether there was anything in the
history of the house or of its guardian which could account for
our sensations, we never knew. We made inquiries of course
concerning Laurent and the Villa Lucienne, but we learned very
little, and that little was so vague, so remote, so irrelevant, that it
does not seem worth while repeating.
The indisputable fact is the overwhelming fear which the
adventure awoke in each and all of us ; and this effect is impossible
to describe, being just the crystallisation of one of those subtle,
unformulated emotions in which only poor Guy himself could
have hoped to succeed.