im 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