“Impossible, Mrs. Landray!” he burst out; but she checked him by a gesture, a gesture that imposed silence while it banished his objections as trivial.
“I have waited. I can wait no longer. I must know.” Her look had become one of settled determination.
“But, Mrs. Landray, pray hear me—”
“I know you will wish to dissuade me; so will Anna, and Jane, and what you will say will be prompted only by kindness; but it will be of no use, Mr. Benson. Don't you understand I shall never be satisfied unless this is done? I must hear again—even if the message is from the dead.” Her voice faltered, but she went bravely on after an instant's silence. “It is quite useless to reason with me; for this is not a matter that can be reached by reason.”
There was a long pause. Benson saw that while she was in her present mood there was nothing he could say in opposition to this plan of hers that would have any weight with her.
“I know Anna and Jane will think it foolish, so I came here to win you to my purpose first.”
“I fear you can't do that, Mrs. Landray,” and he smiled doubtfully.
“It will be possible to find the money, will it not?” And Benson regretted that Anna's extravagance had made it necessary for him to exaggerate the difficulties of raising money. He felt a sudden guilty pang that he had imposed this further burden on Virginia; he hastened to reassure her.
“I did not mean in that way,” he said.
“How, then, Mr. Benson? No—I want you to say just what you think. If you are to help me with the others you must think and believe with me.”