Crimson Peak Page #4

They're genuine.

The image is captured using

a coating of silver salts,

invisible to the naked eye.

It's called

a latent image.

Now, it's my belief

that houses,

places, be it by chemical

compounds in the earth

or the minerals in the stone

can retain impressions

or a person that is

no longer living.

But not everyone

can see them.

The man that just left,

amongst other ailments,

is color blind.

Now, that man will never

perceive the colors red or green.

He only accepts their existence because

the majority around him does.

Perhaps we only

notice things

when the time comes

for us to see them.

You've never spoken to me

about these interests of yours, Alan.

You've never given

me the chance.

Edith, I understand your

fascination with the Sharpes,

but in your own

best interest,

proceed with caution

is all I ask.

You've been gone

a long time and, well,

I've managed somewhat.

No, Edith.

I think every time I read it,

it gets better and better.

And I don't mind

the love story at all.

Just a chapter or two.

Well, I like it.

Let me know

what you think.

I'll finish it now.

Is it a butterfly?

No.

But it will be soon.

Oh, I hadn't

seen them.

They're dying.

They take their heat

from the sun

and when it deserts them,

they die.

That's sad.

No, it's not sad,

Edith. It's nature.

It's a savage world

of things dying

or eating each other,

right beneath our feet.

Surely there's

more to it than that.

Beautiful things

are fragile.

At home, we have

only black moths.

Formidable creatures,

to be sure,

but they lack beauty.

They thrive on the

dark and the cold.

What do they

feed on?

Butterflies,

I'm afraid.

Are you sure

about this?

I don't think she's the right choice.

She's too young.

She's just

a child, Thomas.

Lucille, I've

explained all this.

I will need the ring.

The ring's mine.

I earned it.

I will want it back.

Then you'd better

hope I'm successful.

This is the last thing

we have to sell.

You're not selling it.

We are buying

something with it.

Mr. Holly.

Is something the matter?

Mr. Cushing.

It is not often that I am

the bearer of bad news,

but when I am,

I insist upon delivering it myself.

Don't open it here.

Now is the time.

Edith, may I

have a word?

Just one moment.

Let me get my father.

Father.

Everybody's waiting.

I'll be there shortly.

Miss Cushing.

Edith. I really have no

right to ask this, but...

Sir Thomas.

May I speak with you

in my study, please?

You and your sister,

if you would be so kind as to fetch her.

Child, please tell our guests that

we will join them presently.

Now, Lady Lucille.

Sir Thomas,

the first time we met

I imagine it was hard for

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