enough to do anything much about her before now. But I might have discovered the disease earlier.”
“It is her mother who should reproach herself. ”
“Oh, Hilda! Self-reproach is something she doesn ’ t know about.”
“How ill is Dorothy? What does Sturm think about her?”
“ He doesn’t say very much; he is very cautious. He says he is getting to know her, and one cannot be in a hurry. But I am a little wo rri ed myself. ”
“Why?”
“ They are being so very careful with her. When I brought her here, I did not think she was very bad; but the journey almost killed her, I think; and they have had her in bed for a long time ... When I th in k of what she must have endured at school, trying to keep up with the others, trying to play games ... and getting so ill...”
A nd now sh e is resting, and Sturm will get her better,” he said. Then, more matter-of-factly; “ Sturm is a great man . I have the highest opinion of him—and I am not alone in that. She could not be in better hands .”
Silence fell upon them once more , and Celia gave herself up to the pleasure of the drive, and the comfort of the car. There was enough moonlight now for the countryside to be faintly revealed to her, for her to catch glimpses of the rushing river when the road climbed close to it, to see t h e soaring shapes of the mountains. Although she was weary after her outing and so muc h walking, it was almost with r el uctance that she realized they were almost back at the Rotihorn a s the car began its steep climb to the hotel. It leaped up the sharp gradients, in strong contrast to the car that had first taken C el ia up to the rest centre, and swept into the courtyard before the hotel.
Anneliese was standing at the entrance, talking to the one of the hotel guests and enjoying the cool night air. She smiled with pleasure as she as she saw the car sweep up towards her, and murmuring an excuse to her companion, she went to meet it. She was astonished when the car door opened and Celia stepped out, and only partly reassured when Celia turned ba ck to the car, and said:
“Thank you for the lift, Mr. St. Pierre .”
“It wa s a pleasure,” he said formally.
“Goodnight, sir. ”
“Goodnight, Celia.”
Celia smiled at Anneliese and went into the hotel. Anneliese watched her go, with a slight frown on her forehead. Then, with the slightest shrug, she turned back to Kurt.
“I had coffee and a light supper taken to the chalet, ” she told him, smiling on him most charmingly.
“ That was thoughtful of you, Anneliese. If there is nothing here that needs my attention, I will go straight over. ”
“Nothing,” she told him, still smiling.
“Then I’ ll put the car away now. Goodnight, Anneliese.”
“Goodnight . ”
She went into the hotel. Celia was talking, in the corridor leading towards the office, to Geoffrey Crindle. He, too, had looked admiringly at Celia in her London-tailored suit and provocative hat, and was now lamenting the fact that she had not said it was her free day, when h e would have been d el ighted to escort her to Interlaken, and enjoy the chat she had promised him. Anneliese took fresh notice of C el ia, observing the beautiful dark red hair, the clear skin, the bright smile. Where had Mr. St Pierre picked her up? at Interlaken? or only in the village? or perhaps merely here at the bottom of the hill? And why was Mr. Crindle so interested in her? Looking down on her with an almost proprietary air Anneliese de ci ded that it would be wise to watch Celia and know what she did with her time.
If C el ia expected any change in her relationship with Kurt St. Pierre as a result of their drive and talk together, she was doomed to disappointment He was very busy preparing for Easter and an influx of visitors, and spent a good deal of time at the Bellevue on the shores of Lucerne.
When he was at the Rotihorn , it seemed that Anneliese and Johanna were the only people in whom he had an interest.
“It is her mother who should reproach herself. ”
“Oh, Hilda! Self-reproach is something she doesn ’ t know about.”
“How ill is Dorothy? What does Sturm think about her?”
“ He doesn’t say very much; he is very cautious. He says he is getting to know her, and one cannot be in a hurry. But I am a little wo rri ed myself. ”
“Why?”
“ They are being so very careful with her. When I brought her here, I did not think she was very bad; but the journey almost killed her, I think; and they have had her in bed for a long time ... When I th in k of what she must have endured at school, trying to keep up with the others, trying to play games ... and getting so ill...”
A nd now sh e is resting, and Sturm will get her better,” he said. Then, more matter-of-factly; “ Sturm is a great man . I have the highest opinion of him—and I am not alone in that. She could not be in better hands .”
Silence fell upon them once more , and Celia gave herself up to the pleasure of the drive, and the comfort of the car. There was enough moonlight now for the countryside to be faintly revealed to her, for her to catch glimpses of the rushing river when the road climbed close to it, to see t h e soaring shapes of the mountains. Although she was weary after her outing and so muc h walking, it was almost with r el uctance that she realized they were almost back at the Rotihorn a s the car began its steep climb to the hotel. It leaped up the sharp gradients, in strong contrast to the car that had first taken C el ia up to the rest centre, and swept into the courtyard before the hotel.
Anneliese was standing at the entrance, talking to the one of the hotel guests and enjoying the cool night air. She smiled with pleasure as she as she saw the car sweep up towards her, and murmuring an excuse to her companion, she went to meet it. She was astonished when the car door opened and Celia stepped out, and only partly reassured when Celia turned ba ck to the car, and said:
“Thank you for the lift, Mr. St. Pierre .”
“It wa s a pleasure,” he said formally.
“Goodnight, sir. ”
“Goodnight, Celia.”
Celia smiled at Anneliese and went into the hotel. Anneliese watched her go, with a slight frown on her forehead. Then, with the slightest shrug, she turned back to Kurt.
“I had coffee and a light supper taken to the chalet, ” she told him, smiling on him most charmingly.
“ That was thoughtful of you, Anneliese. If there is nothing here that needs my attention, I will go straight over. ”
“Nothing,” she told him, still smiling.
“Then I’ ll put the car away now. Goodnight, Anneliese.”
“Goodnight . ”
She went into the hotel. Celia was talking, in the corridor leading towards the office, to Geoffrey Crindle. He, too, had looked admiringly at Celia in her London-tailored suit and provocative hat, and was now lamenting the fact that she had not said it was her free day, when h e would have been d el ighted to escort her to Interlaken, and enjoy the chat she had promised him. Anneliese took fresh notice of C el ia, observing the beautiful dark red hair, the clear skin, the bright smile. Where had Mr. St Pierre picked her up? at Interlaken? or only in the village? or perhaps merely here at the bottom of the hill? And why was Mr. Crindle so interested in her? Looking down on her with an almost proprietary air Anneliese de ci ded that it would be wise to watch Celia and know what she did with her time.
If C el ia expected any change in her relationship with Kurt St. Pierre as a result of their drive and talk together, she was doomed to disappointment He was very busy preparing for Easter and an influx of visitors, and spent a good deal of time at the Bellevue on the shores of Lucerne.
When he was at the Rotihorn , it seemed that Anneliese and Johanna were the only people in whom he had an interest.
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