“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.”