Chapter 9: A Mysterious Mansion

At the corner nearly opposite Miss Crawdon’s school stood a large, old-fashioned mansion of brick painted light brown. It was a detached house almost surrounded by a high wall. In the wall was a pillared gateway, and each pillar was surmounted by two large balls that looked as if they had dropped from the mouth of a great cannon. Behind the fence and close to the house were two little garden beds, and there were three or four trees in the yard back of the house. It was said that the mansion had once been surrounded with extensive grounds that sloped down hill almost to the river. But new streets and houses had gradually encroached on these grounds until hardly a trace of them remained. There was never a sign of life seen about the old house. Windows and doors were always closed. Even the blinds were seldom drawn up, though once in a while at an upper window, some of the schoolgirls said that they had seen a woman’s figure seated behind the lace curtains. Occasionally, too, on sunny days they had noticed a large, old-fashioned carriage drive up under the porte-cochère, while an old lady very much wrapped up, and attended evidently by a maid, entered it. In taking their walks at recess the girls always passed this house, and, as schoolgirls, they naturally felt much curiosity about the lady who occupied it, since she seemed to be surrounded by an air of mystery.

They knew, of course, her name—Madame du Launy—and some of the girls had heard more about her from their parents.

“My mother,” said Frances Pounder, “says that my grandmother told her that Mme. du Launy was a very beautiful girl. She married a Frenchman whom her family despised, and she stayed in Europe until after her father’s death.”

“Was the Frenchman rich?” asked Edith, in rather an awe-stricken voice, for the story sounded very romantic. The girls at this moment happened to be seated on the steps leading to the school, and Frances was in her element when she had an interested group hanging on her words.

“Oh, dear, no, he wasn’t rich at all. He was a cook, or a hair-dresser, or something like that, only very good looking. But when Mme. du Launy’s father died, she had three little children, and her father was so proud—he was a Holtom—he couldn’t bear to think of her coming to want, so he left her all his fortune just the same as if she hadn’t married beneath her.”

“That was right,” said Nora approvingly. “I think it’s ridiculous for fathers to cut their children off with a penny, the way they used to.”

“Well,” responded Frances, “I think it’s a great deal more ridiculous for people to marry beneath them.”

“Of course you’d think that, Frances,” interposed Belle.

“There, there, don’t begin to quarrel, children,” said Nora. “Go on with the story, Frances. What did Mme. du Launy do when she got her money?”

“Oh, she brought her Frenchman and her children to Boston, and she lived at a hotel while she began to build this house. Some people went to see her, but the Frenchman was a terribly ill-mannered little thing, and nobody liked him because he was so familiar. Mme. du Launy and he were hardly ever invited anywhere, and they spent most of their time driving about in a great carriage which held the whole family, and a maid and governess.”