Over the mantelpiece was an old picture in a carved oak
frame, a Madonna and Child, the beauty of which fascinated me. I
remember that on the bottom of the frame was written in printed
letters the name "Chiaro dell' Erma." I was surprised to find in the
room another walking-dress, not new, but slightly worn, laid out
ready for me to put on. I lifted it up and looked at it. I saw at a
glance that it would most likely fit me like a glove.
'"Whose dress is this?" I said.
'"It's yours, miss."
'"Mine? But how came it mine?"
'"Oh, please don't ask me any questions, miss," she said. "Please ask
Mr. D'Arcy, miss; he knows all about it. I am only the housekeeper,
miss."
'"Mr. D'Arcy knows all about my dress!" I said. "Why, what on earth
has Mr. D'Arcy to do with my dress?"
'"Please don't ask me any more questions, miss," she said. "Pray
don't. Mr. D'Arcy is a very kind man; I am sure nobody has ever heard
me say but what he is a very kind man; but if you do what he says you
are not to do, if you talk about what he says you are not to talk
about, he is frightful, he is awful.
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