when she and Magdalen had met in the garden.
Norah looked forward to the coming time, with
the first serious dread of it on her sister's
account, which she had felt yet. Both had hitherto
remained passive, in despair of knowing what to
do. Both were now silent, in despair of knowing
what to say.

Mr. Pendril patiently and kindly helped them,
by returning to the subject of their future plans
for the second time.

"I am sorry to press any business matters on
your attention," he said, "when you are
necessarily unfitted to deal with them. But I
must take my instructions back to London with
me to-night. With reference, in the first place,
to the disgraceful pecuniary offer, to which I
have already alluded. The younger Miss
Vanstone having read the Instructions, needs no
further information from my lips. The elder
will, I hope, excuse me if I tell her (what I should
be ashamed to tell her, but that it is a matter
of necessity), that Mr. Michael Vanstone's
provision for his brother's children, begins and ends
with an offer to each of them of one hundred
pounds."

Norah's face crimsoned with indignation.
She started to her feet, as if Michael Vanstone
had been present in the room, and had personally
insulted her.

"I see," said the lawyer, wishing to spare her;
"I may tell Mr. Michael Vanstone you refuse
the money."

"Tell him," she broke out passionately, "if I
was starving by the roadside, I wouldn't touch
a farthing of it!"

"Shall I notify your refusal also?" asked Mr.
Pendril, speaking to Magdalen next.

She turned round from the window—but kept
her face in shadow, by standing close against it
with her back to the light.

"Tell him, on my part," she said, "to think
again, before he starts me in life with a hundred
pounds. I will give him time to think." She
spoke those strange words, with a marked
emphasis; and turning back quickly to the window,
hid her face from the observation of every one
in the room.

"You both refuse the offer," said Mr. Pendril,
taking out his pencil, and making his
professional note of the decision. As he shut up his
pocket-book, he glanced towards Magdalen
doubtfully. She had roused in him the latent
distrust which is a lawyer's second nature: he
had his suspicions of her looks; he had his
suspicions of her language. Her sister seemed
to have more influence over her than Miss
Garth. He resolved to speak privately to her
sister before he went away.

While the idea was passing through his mind,
attention was claimed by another question from
Magdalen.

"Is he an old man?" she asked, suddenly,
without turning round from the window.

"If you mean Mr. Michael Vanstone, he is
seventy-five, or seventy-six years of age."

"You spoke of his son, a little while since.
Has he any other sons—or daughters?"

"None."

"Do you know anything of his wife?"

"She has been dead for many years."

There was a pause. "Why do you ask these
questions?" said Norah.

"I beg your pardon," replied Magdalen,
quietly; "I won't ask any more."

For the third time, Mr. Pendril returned to
the business of the interview.

"The servants must not be forgotten," he said.
"They must be settled with and discharged: I
will give them the necessary explanation before
I leave. As for the house, no questions
connected with it need trouble you. The carriages
and horses, the furniture and plate, and so on,
must simply be left on the premises to await Mr.
Michael Vanstone's further orders. But any
possessions, Miss Vanstone, personally belonging
to you or to your sister—your jewellery and
dresses, and any little presents which may have
been made to you—are entirely at your own
disposal. With regard to the time of your departure,
I understand that a month, or more, will
elapse before Mr. Michael Vanstone can leave
Zurich; and I am sure I only do his solicitor
justice in saying——"

"Excuse me, Mr. Pendril," interposed Norah;
"I think I understand, from what you have just
said, that our house and everything in it belongs
to——?" She stopped, as if the mere utterance
of the man's name was abhorrent to her.

"To Michael Vanstone," said Mr. Pendril.
"The house goes to him with the rest of the
property."

"Then I, for one, am ready to leave it
tomorrow!"

Magdalen started at the window, as her sister
spoke, and looked at Mr. Clare, with the first
open signs of anxiety and alarm which she had
shown yet.

"Don't be angry with me," she whispered,
stooping over the old man with a sudden
humility of look, and a sudden nervousness of
manner. "I can't go, without seeing Frank
first!"

"You shall see him," replied Mr. Clare. "I
am here to speak to you about it, when the
business is done."

"It is quite unnecessary to hurry your departure,
as you propose," continued Mr. Pendril,
addressing Norah. "I can safely assure you
that a week hence will be time enough."

"If this is Mr. Michael Vanstone's house,"
repeated Norah, "I am ready to leave it
tomorrow."

She impatiently quitted her chair; and seated
herself farther away on the sofa. As she laid
her hand on the back of it, her face changed.
There, at the head of the sofa, were the cushions
which had supported her mother, when she lay
down for the last time to repose. There, at the
foot of the sofa, was the clumsy, old-fashioned
arm-chair, which had been her father's favourite
seat on rainy days, when she and her sister used
to amuse him at the piano opposite, by playing
his favourite tunes. A heavy sigh, which she
tried vainly to repress, burst from her lips.