looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of
sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy
maid, bearing a long parcel.

"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be
preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!"

Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I
know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw--the green satin
gown!

We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the
present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This
gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand,
and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and
half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff;
the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms:
briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin
slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon.
Was this a jest? was it--I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes
suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my
eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible.

"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do
it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think
the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She
glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid,
after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused
compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown.