The House of the White Shadows

by B. L. Farjeon

CHAPTER I

[PREPARATIONS FOR A VISITOR]

At noon the same day the old housekeeper, Mother Denise, and her pretty granddaughter Dionetta were busily employed setting in order and arranging the furniture in a suite of rooms intended for an expected visitor. There were but two floors in the House of White Shadows, and the rooms in which Mother Denise and Dionetta were busy were situated on the upper floor.

"I think they will do now," said Mother Denise, wiping imaginary dust away with her apron.

"All but the flowers." said Dionetta. "No, grandmother, that desk is wrong; it is my lady's own desk, and is to be placed exactly in this corner, by the window. There--it is right now. Be sure that everything is in its proper place, and that the rooms are sweet and bright--be sure--be sure! She has said that twenty times this week."

"Ah," said Mother Denise testily, "as if butterflies could teach bees how to work! My lady is turning your head, Dionetta, it is easy to see that; she has bewitched half the people in the village. Here is father, with the flowers. Haste, Martin, haste!"

"Easy to say, hard to do," grumbled Martin, entering slowly with a basket of cut flowers. "My bones get more obstinate every day. Here's my lady been teasing me out of my life to cut every flower worth looking at. She would have made the garden a wilderness, and spoilt every bed, if I had not argued with her."

"And what did she say," asked Mother Denise, "when you argued with her?"

"Say? Smiled, and showed all her white teeth at once. I never saw such teeth in my young days, nor such eyes, nor such hair, nor such hands--enough to drive a young man crazy."

"Or an old one either," interrupted Mother Denise. "She smiled as sweet as honey--you silly old man--and wheedled you, and wheedled you, till she got what she wanted."

"Pretty well, pretty well. You see, Dionetta, there are two ways of getting a thing done, a soft way and a hard way."

"There, there, there!" cried Mother Denise impatiently. "Do your work with a still tongue, and let us do ours. Get back to the garden, and repair the mischief my lady has caused you to do. What does a man want with a room full of roses?" she muttered, when Martin, quick to obey his domestic tyrant, had gone.

"It is a welcome home," said Dionetta. "If I were absent from my place a long, long while, it would make me feel glad when I returned, to see my rooms as bright as this. It is as though the very roses remembered you."

"You are young," said Mother Denise, "and your thoughts go the way of roses. I can't blame you, Dionetta."

"It was ten years since the master was here, you have told me, grandmother."

"Yes, Dionetta, yes, ten years ago this summer, and even then he did not sleep in the house. Christian Almer hates the place, and of all the rooms in the villa, this is the room he would be most anxious to avoid."

"But why, grandmother?" asked Dionetta, her eyes growing larger and rounder with wonder; "and does my lady know it?"

"My lady is a headstrong woman; she would not listen to me when I advised her to select other rooms for the young master, and she declares--in a light way to be sure, but these are not things to make light of--that she is very disappointed to find that the villa is not haunted. Haunted! I have never seen anything, nor has Martin, nor you, Dionetta."

"Oh, grandmother!" said the girl, in a timid voice, "I don't know whether I have or not. Sometimes I have fancied----"

"Of course you have fancied, and that is all; and you have woke up in the night, and been frightened by nothing. Mark me, Dionetta, if you do no wrong, and think no wrong, you will never see anything of the White Shadows of this house."

"I am certain," said Dionetta, more positively, "when I have been almost falling asleep, that I have heard them creeping, creeping past the door. I have listened to them over and over again, without daring to move in bed. Indeed I have."

"I am certain," retorted Mother Denise, "that you have heard nothing of the kind. You are a foolish, silly girl to speak of such things. You put me quite out of patience, child."

"But Fritz says----"

"Fritz is a fool, a cunning, lazy fool. If I were the owner of this property I would pack him off. There's no telling which master he serves--Christian Almer or Master Pierre Lamont. He likes his bread buttered on both sides, and accepts money from both gentlemen. That is not the conduct of a faithful servant. If I acted in such a manner I should consider myself disgraced."

"I am sure," murmured Dionetta, "that Fritz has done nothing to disgrace himself."

"Let those who are older than you," said Mother Denise, in a sharp tone, "be judges of that. Fritz is good for nothing but to chatter like a magpie and idle round the place from morning to night. When there's work to do, as there has been this week, carrying furniture and moving heavy things about, he must run away to the city, to the court-house where that murderer is being tried. Dionetta, I am not in love with the Advocate or his lady. The Advocate is trying to get a murderer off; it may be the work of a clever man, but it is not the work of a good man. If I had a son, I would sooner have him good than clever; and I would sooner you married a good man than a clever one, I hope you are not thinking of marrying a fool."

"Oh, grandmother, whoever thinks of marrying?"

"Not you, of course, child--would you have me believe that? When I was your age I thought of nothing else, and when you are my age you will see the folly of it. No, I am not in love with the Advocate. He is performing unholy work down there in Geneva. The priest says as much. If that murderer escapes from justice, the guilt of blood will weigh upon the Advocate's soul."

"Oh, grandmother! If my lady heard you she would never forgive you."

"If she hears it, it will not be from my tongue. Dionetta, it was a young girl who was murdered, about the same age as yourself. It might have been you--ah, you may well turn white--and this clever lawyer, this stranger it is, who comes among us to prevent justice being done upon a murderous wretch. He will be punished for it, mark my words."

Dionetta, who knew how useless it was to oppose her grandmother's opinions, endeavoured to change the subject by saying:

"Tell me, grandmother, why Mr. Almer should be more anxious to avoid this room than any other room in the house? I think it is the prettiest of all."

Mother Denise did not reply. She looked round her with the air of a woman recalling a picture of long ago.

"The story connected with this part of the house," she presently said, "gave to the villa the name of the House of White Shadows. You are old enough to hear it. Let me see, let me see. Christian Almer is now thirty-one years old--yes, thirty-one on his last birthday. How time passes! I remember well the day he was born----"

"Hush, grandmother," said Dionetta, holding up her hand. "My lady."

The Advocate's wife had entered the room quietly, and was regarding the arrangements with approval.

"It is excellently done," she said, "exactly as I wished. Dionetta, it was you who arranged the flowers?"

"Yes, my lady."

"You have exquisite taste, really exquisite. Mother Denise, I am really obliged to you."

"I have done nothing," said Mother Denise, "that it was not my duty to do."

"Such an unpleasant way of putting it; for there is a way of doing things----"

"Just what grandfather said," cried Dionetta, gleefully, "a hard way and a soft way." And then becoming suddenly aware of her rudeness in interrupting her mistress, she curtsied, and with a bright colour in her face, said, "I beg your pardon, my lady."

"There's no occasion, child," said Adelaide graciously. "Grandfather is quite right, and everything in this room has been done beautifully." She held a framed picture in her hand, a coloured cabinet photograph of herself, and she looked round the walls to find a place for it. "This will do," she said, and she took down the picture of a child which hung immediately above her desk, and put her own in its stead. "It is nice," she said to Mother Denise, smiling, "to see the faces of old friends about us. Mr. Almer and I are very old friends."

"The picture you have taken down," said Mother Denise, "is of Christian Almer when he was a child."

"Indeed! How old was he then?"

"Five years, my lady."

"He was a handsome boy. His hair and eyes are darker now. You were speaking of him, Mother Denise, as I entered. You were saying he was thirty-one last birthday, and that you remember the day he was born."

"Yes, my lady."

"And you were about to tell Dionetta why this villa was called the House of White Shadows. Give me the privilege of hearing the story."

"I would rather not relate it, my lady."

"Nonsense, nonsense! If Dionetta may hear it, there can be no objection to me. Mr. Almer would be quite angry if he knew you refused me so simple a thing. Listen to what he says in his last letter," and Adelaide took a letter from her pocket, and read: "'Mother Denise, the housekeeper, and the most faithful servant of the house, will do everything in her power to make you comfortable and happy. She will carry out your wishes to the letter--tell her, if necessary, that it is my desire, and that she is to refuse you nothing.' Now, you dear old soul, are you satisfied?"

"Well, my lady, if you insist----"

"Of course I insist, you dear creature. I am sure there is no one in the village who can tell a story half as well as you. Come and stand by me, Dionetta, for fear of ghosts."

She seated herself before the desk, upon which she laid the picture of the lad, and Mother Denise, who was really by no means loth to recall old reminiscences, and who, as she proceeded, derived great enjoyment herself from her narration, thus commenced: