daughters, under the circumstances of their father’s death, had no more claim to a share in his property than the daughters of one of his laborers in the village.  The one chance left was that their mother might sufficiently recover to leave her third share to them, by will, in the event of her decease.  Now you know why I wrote to you to ask for that interview—­why I waited day and night, in the hope of receiving a summons to the house.  I was sincerely sorry to send back such an answer to your note of inquiry as I was compelled to write.  But while there was a chance of the preservation of Mrs. Vanstone’s life, the secret of the marriage was hers, not mine; and every consideration of delicacy forbade me to disclose it.”

“You did right, sir,” said Miss Garth; “I understand your motives, and respect them.”

“My last attempt to provide for the daughters,” continued Mr. Pendril, “was, as you know, rendered unavailing by the dangerous nature of Mrs. Vanstone’s illness.  Her death left the infant who survived her by a few hours (the infant born, you will remember, in lawful wedlock) possessed, in due legal course, of the whole of Mr. Vanstone’s fortune.  On the child’s death—­if it had only outlived the mother by a few seconds, instead of a few hours, the result would have been the same—­the next of kin to the legitimate offspring took the money; and that next of kin is the infant’s paternal uncle, Michael Vanstone.  The whole fortune of eighty thousand pounds has virtually passed into his possession already.”

“Are there no other relations?” asked Miss Garth.  “Is there no hope from any one else?”

“There are no other relations with Michael Vanstone’s claim,” said the lawyer.  “There are no grandfathers or grandmothers of the dead child (on the side of either of the parents) now alive.  It was not likely there should be, considering the ages of Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone when they died.  But it is a misfortune to be reasonably lamented that no other uncles or aunts survive.  There are cousins alive; a son and two daughters of that elder sister of Mr. Vanstone’s, who married Archdeacon Bartram, and who died, as I told you, some years since.  But their interest is superseded by the interest of the nearer blood.  No, Miss Garth, we must look facts as they are resolutely in the face.  Mr. Vanstone’s daughters are Nobody’s Children; and the law leaves them helpless at their uncle’s mercy.”

“A cruel law, Mr. Pendril—­a cruel law in a Christian country.”

“Cruel as it is, Miss Garth, it stands excused by a shocking peculiarity in this case.  I am far from defending the law of England as it affects illegitimate offspring.  On the contrary, I think it a disgrace to the nation.  It visits the sins of the parents on the children; it encourages vice by depriving fathers and mothers of the strongest of all motives for making the atonement of marriage; and it claims to produce these two abominable results