“Pray what has been done to-day?” asked Allan.
“I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Kenge with excessive urbanity.
“What has been done to-day?”
“What has been done,” repeated Mr. Kenge. “Quite so. Yes. Why, not much has been done; not much. We have been checked—brought up suddenly, I would say—upon the—shall I term it threshold?”
“Is this will considered a genuine document, sir?” said Allan. “Will you tell us that?”
“Most certainly, if I could,” said Mr. Kenge; “but we have not gone into that, we have not gone into that.”
“We have not gone into that,” repeated Mr. Vholes as if his low inward voice were an echo.
“You are to reflect, Mr. Woodcourt,” observed Mr. Kenge, using his silver trowel persuasively and smoothingly, “that this has been a great cause, that this has been a protracted cause, that this has been a complex cause. Jarndyce and Jarndyce has been termed, not inaptly, a monument of Chancery practice.”
“And patience has sat upon it a long time,” said Allan.
“Very well indeed, sir,” returned Mr. Kenge with a certain condescending laugh he had. “Very well! You are further to reflect, Mr. Woodcourt,” becoming dignified almost to severity, “that on the numerous difficulties, contingencies, masterly fictions, and forms of procedure in this great cause, there has been expended study, ability, eloquence, knowledge, intellect, Mr. Woodcourt, high intellect. For many years, the—a—I would say the flower of the bar, and the—a—I would presume to add, the matured autumnal fruits of the woolsack—have been lavished upon Jarndyce and Jarndyce. If the public have the benefit, and if the country have the adornment, of this great grasp, it must be paid for in money or money’s worth, sir.”