"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. There, at the foot
of the sofa, was the clumsy, old-fashioned arm-chair, which had been her
father's favorite seat on rainy days, when she and her sister used to
amuse him at the piano opposite, by playing his favorite tunes. A heavy
sigh, which she tried vainly to repress, burst from her lips. "Oh," she
thought, "I had forgotten these old friends! How shall we part from them
when the time comes!"
"May I inquire, Miss Vanstone, whether you and your sister have formed
any definite plans for the future?" asked Mr.
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