"I'm frightened . . . I feel so anxious. . . ."
"What about?"
"About things . . . that may happen."
"Where?"
"In our house."
"What can happen?"
"Things, sad things."
"Auntie, this is nonsense!"
"I can't help it, dear. . . . I'm frightened . . . I'm frightened. . . ."
"Tell me, Auntie, you don't like the house, do you?"
"It's not that."
"But the house oppresses you."
"No, it's not that, child. . . . Uncle and Addie like the house. . . . And I'm getting used to it. . . ."
"Tell me, Auntie: they say . . ."
"What?"
"That the house is . . ."
She looked at Constance meaningly.
"Darling, darling, it's not that. . . . It's an old house. . . . We never talk of that. . . ."
" But it may be just that that depresses you."
"It did at first . . . but I'm getting used to it. . . . Addie is so very calm and communicates all his calmness to us. . . . What appears inexplicable . . . is perhaps quite simple. . . . But that's not it. . . . I'm frightened . . . frightened of . . ."
"Of what?"
"Of what I fear . . . will happen."
"And what do you fear?"
"Things that I can't put into words . . . some great sorrow."
"Why, Auntie? . . . Why should it happen?
