“Let me mention plainly what I have done,” resumed Mr. Pendril; “I am very desirous you should not think that I have left any effort untried.  When I wrote to Michael Vanstone, in the first instance, I did not confine myself to the usual formal statement.  I put before him, plainly and earnestly, every one of the circumstances under which he has become possessed of his brother’s fortune.  When I received the answer, referring me to his written instructions to his lawyer in London—­and when a copy of those instructions was placed in my hands—­I positively declined, on becoming acquainted with them, to receive the writer’s decision as final.  I induce d the solicitor, on the other side, to accord us a further term of delay; I attempted to see Mr. Noel Vanstone in London for the purpose of obtaining his intercession; and, failing in that, I myself wrote to his father for the second time.  The answer referred me, in insolently curt terms, to the instructions already communicated; declared those instructions to be final; and declined any further correspondence with me.  There is the beginning and the end of the negotiation.  If I have overlooked any means of touching this heartless man—­tell me, and those means shall be tried.”

He looked at Norah.  She pressed her sister’s hand encouragingly, and answered for both of them.

“I speak for my sister, as well as for myself,” she said, with her color a little heightened, with her natural gentleness of manner just touched by a quiet, uncomplaining sadness.  “You have done all that could be done, Mr. Pendril.  We have tried to restrain ourselves from hoping too confidently; and we are deeply grateful for your kindness, at a time when kindness is sorely needed by both of us.”

Magdalen’s hand returned the pressure of her sister’s—­withdrew itself—­trifled for a moment impatiently with the arrangement of her dress—­then suddenly moved the chair closer to the table.  Leaning one arm on it (with the hand fast clinched), she looked across at Mr. Pendril.  Her face, always remarkable for its want of color, was now startling to contemplate, in its blank, bloodless pallor.  But the light in her large gray eyes was bright and steady as ever; and her voice, though low in tone, was clear and resolute in accent as she addressed the lawyer in these terms: 

“I understood you to say, Mr. Pendril, that my father’s brother had sent his written orders to London, and that you had a copy.  Have you preserved it?”

“Certainly.”

“Have you got it about you?”

“I have.”

“May I see it?”

Mr. Pendril hesitated, and looked uneasily from Magdalen to Miss Garth, and from Miss Garth back again to Magdalen.

“Pray oblige me by not pressing your request,” he said.  “It is surely enough that you know the result of the instructions.  Why should you agitate yourself to no purpose by reading them?  They are expressed so cruelly; they show such abominable want of feeling, that I really cannot prevail upon myself to let you see them.”