She kissed the young girl’s forehead very kindly. Lois returned the caress with passionate warmth, and laid her head down upon her old friend’s shoulder. “Lois, before I give you this to read, I want you to do something, which, perhaps, you might feel too agitated afterward to manage.” “What is that, dear madam?” “You must not call me ‘madam’ or ‘my lady’ any more, pet. I want you to change this fantastical dress for your black silk, and wear my pretty jet ornaments, and also a pair of my white gloves, with the black silk embroidery which I bought in Paris. I think it is a mark of respect you owe to your benefactor. Did you ever see or hear of him?” “Never, madam.” “Shall I ring for Justine to help you in dressing?” A faint smile dimpled the corners of the young girl’s lips as she shook her head. Lady Quaintree looked about for the bell, then laughed at her own forgetfulness. From this little chamber--formerly a small dressing-room--there was no communication with the servants’ domain. Her ladyship, taking the copy of the will with her, crossed to her own apartment, only a few steps distant. When she returned, she was followed by her waiting-maid, who was carrying a package of black laces; a pair of gloves; a filmy lace handkerchief, on which was some black edging; and a black fan--one of Lady Quaintree’s treasures, for it had once belonged to Marie Antoinette. In those few minutes Lois had thrown off her cloudy robes, divested herself completely of her assumed character of Undine, and donned a handsome black silk evening-dress. Lady Quaintree was carrying a black-and-gold case, which she placed upon the dressing-table and opened. It contained a complete set of jet ornaments. She ordered Justine to unfasten the black lace already upon Miss Turquand’s robe, and replace it by that in her custody. The black lace selected by Lady Quaintree was, Justine knew, very valuable, and the richest she had; the jet ornaments, she also knew, her ladyship prized; so, great was her secret amazement not only to see Miss Turquand habited in black, when the blue and white she had meant to wear was lying outspread upon a couch, but at the lively interest displayed by Lady Quaintree in the somber metamorphosis, and perhaps, above all, at the fact of the stately dame being in Miss Turquand’s apartment. The discreet Frenchwoman, however, said not one word; but, taking out needles and thread from a “pocket-companion,” she dexterously obeyed the orders received from her mistress. Lois was so astounded by the news she had heard that she was incapable of doing anything but what, in fact, she had already done, implicitly followed directions. She permitted Lady Quaintree to clasp the jet suite upon her neck and arms, and in her ears, and looked at the gloves, and handkerchief, and fan with the glance of one walking in her sleep. Justine, wondering, though she did not utter a syllable, was dismissed, and Lady Quaintree desired Lois to sit down.