“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.”
“I am sensible of your kindness, Mr. Pendril, in wishing to spare me pain. But I can bear pain; I promise to distress nobody. Will you excuse me if I repeat my request?”
She held out her hand—the soft, white, virgin hand that had touched nothing to soil it or harden it yet.
“Oh, Magdalen, think again!” said Norah.
“You distress Mr. Pendril,” added Miss Garth; “you distress us all.”
“There can be no end gained,” pleaded the lawyer—“forgive me for saying so—there can really be no useful end gained by my showing you the instructions.”