An Open Verdict by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

THE blinds were drawn up at the Water House, and the wintry sun shone upon the empty rooms. Miss Scales had come back to her charge, leaving that provoking old lady in Devonshire still undecided whether to live or die, ‘making it so very perplexing as to one's choice of a winter dress when one might be called upon at any moment to go into mourning,' Miss Scales complained to her Devonshire acquaintance, when discussing her aunt's weak-minded oscillation.

But now there was no further difficulty about the mourning question. For Mr. Harefield, her employer of fifteen years, Miss Scales could not assume too deep a sable, especially when the sable would naturally be provided and paid for by her dearest Beatrix.