No Name - Wilkie Collins (free e books to read online .TXT) 📗
- Author: Wilkie Collins
Book online «No Name - Wilkie Collins (free e books to read online .TXT) 📗». Author Wilkie Collins
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 everyone 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 pocketbook, he glanced toward 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 mere 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, his 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—jewelry and dresses, and any little presents which may have been made to you—are entirely at your 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 further 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.
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