I saw Adonie's fingers run over the attic wall as though it were the flesh of a beloved steed. She paused, then spoke over her shoulder to me, "Here's Cella. Marcella Hague Genestra. She had no children? I thought she had. But Marcella is Cella, isn't that right? She was the last to live here?"
"That's right. And Cella had no children."

But her laughter had swept the trees. Her laughter had come through the trees like an enlivening breeze, up to the top of the bull's hill, it had colored all the valley like the moving light did, and it was impossible to deny or to still the excitement her laughter had stirred in me. Had always stirred in me. It was anticipation as if, hearing that laughter and looking up, I would find the....
treasure....?