Pendril came next. She read the last
melancholy sentences aloud to herself: "For God's sake come on the day
when you receive this--come and relieve me from the dreadful thought
that my two darling girls are at this moment unprovided for. If anything
happened to me, and if my desire to do their mother justice ended
(through my miserable ignorance of the law) in leaving Norah and
Magdalen disinherited, I should not rest in my grave!" Under these lines
again, and close at the bottom of the page, was written the terrible
commentary on that letter which had fallen from Mr. Pendril's lips:
"Mr. Vanstone's daughters are Nobody's Children, and the law leaves them
helpless at their uncle's mercy."
Helpless when those words were spoken--helpless still, after all that
she had resolved, after all that she had sacrificed. The assertion of
her natural rights and her sister's, sanctioned by the direct expression
of her father's last wishes; the recall of Frank from China; the
justification of her desertion of Norah--all hung on her desperate
purpose of recovering the lost inheritance, at any risk, from the man
who had beggared and insulted his brother's children.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369