'Your mother was working this for you, and talking of when you would be grown, just before she died,' ran the words. 'Wear it, my child.' Nothing more.
'That was a very sweet lady,' emphatically said the Frenchwoman as she examined the length, the other two standing silent a space.
'It is most beautiful,' said Lady Fairfax. Then she glanced at the script again, and in spite of Marion's solemn look she chuckled a little.
'"Wear it!" says my lord. "Wear it!" How? Pinned on the front of your bodice? I'll warrant my brother is firmly of the idea he has given you a gown. But there's something else in this trunk--another box----'
Marion fumbled with the lid, and presently disclosed a casket with a velvet lining. Curled in the folds of the velvet lay a necklace of turquoise and pearl.
'I shall never dare wear that!' she said at length.
Lady Fairfax, with a pleased smile, was turning the necklace about in the light.
'Your mother's too, I remember it. This settles the matter,' she added to the sempstress. 'Mademoiselle's gown shall be cream and gold, with a _soupçon_ of the blue of these turquoises. Let it be designed'--she went off into a string of technicalities. 'You will get Master Bingon at once, my good Romaine, and the two of you set to work. I give you seven days and nights for a month's employment. Can you, and will you?'
Madame Romaine glanced at Marion's face. 'Solely for _les beaux yeux_ of Mademoiselle,' she briefly replied. 'I cannot, but I will.'
'Good. And bid the little Simone come here for a spell. She can have the small chamber next to Mademoiselle, and stitch at her flounces and petticoats, and perhaps persuade Mademoiselle to wear her new stays.'
Marion laughed. 'I give up the battle from this moment, Aunt Constance. I will even wear the sort of stays you wish. But not,' she added firmly, 'as hard and tight as yours.'
Lady Fairfax complacently surveyed her own beautiful figure in the long mirror on the wall.
'La, la, Mademoiselle,' put in the Frenchwoman, 'il faut souffrir pour être belle.'
'Not that kind of suffering, Madame Romaine!' said Marion, with a touch of her father's dryness that made her aunt smile. 'Mademoiselle de Delauret wears hard stays, and she suffers greatly sometimes, but I have never seen any marked improvement in her looks. But who is this Simone who is coming to mount guard over me?'