At the garden-gate of a pretty little house in one of the suburbs of
Fanchester, on a sunny evening a few days after Canon Kingsworth's visit
to Applehurst, stood the disinherited heiress, Emberance Kingsworth.
Unlike Katharine, she was fully instructed in her rights and in her
wrongs; so fully that they were an old story to her, and had lost much
of their interest. For life was pleasant enough, pleasanter since her
mother and aunts had left off school-keeping; for Emberance did not like
teaching, and preferred the various interests of domestic life.
She was very pretty, tall and lithe, with fair fresh colouring, and
abundant light-brown hair, well-opened eyes of deep grey, and a certain
air of candour and simplicity, serene and single-hearted.
She stood looking down the long suburban road, with its edge of lime
trees, its little villas with fanciful gates, breaking the shrubberies
of mountain-ash and acacia, lilac and hawthorn, that fronted the road.
She made a pretty picture, with the flickering shadows of an acacia tree
on her white dress and straw hat, and looked less like an injured
heiress brooding over her wrongs, than a happy girl watching wistfully
for a possible meeting.
Perhaps her uncle, the Canon, was not exactly the figure that she had
expected to see, but as he came in sight down the road, she ran forward
to meet him with ready affection.
"Well, my dear," he said as he kissed her, "I am glad to see you here,
for I wanted to have a little chat with you."
"Did you, uncle?" said Emberance, blushing under her hat, and believing
that she guessed the subject of his intended discourse.
"Yes, you are old enough, Emberance, and I hope sensible enough to have
some power of judging of your own circumstances."
"Yes, uncle," said Emberance. "I think I ought to be allowed to judge a
little for myself. Indeed, I could never wish for anything different
under _any_ circumstances, and I can't see _what_ circumstances are
likely to arise in my life that could alter matters for me."
"No," said the Canon. "I am glad you have not been taught to look far
away."
"Mamma says that I ought to choose from a different circle, but I cannot
now. And of course we know that we must wait," said the girl, timidly,
but with firmness.
"Choose? _we_? wait? hullo!" said the Canon, "what does this mean I
should like to know?"
"Oh, uncle," cried poor Emberance in dismay, "I thought you knew,--I
thought you came about it! I thought he told you!"
"I came about something quite different. What is it, my dear? Or must
I not pry into young ladies' secrets?"
Emberance was very fond of her uncle, and after she had recovered her
breath and her courage, she began her little story with great
straightforwardness.
"It is Malcolm Mackenzie, uncle, and he is going to New Zealand. He has
some cousins there, who have a good deal of land. He has a little
money, but they say he must come out first and look about him before
investing it. He has no one belonging to him to keep him in England.
It's not a bad prospect--for these days, uncle," said Emberance, with a
sort of imploring simplicity, "and his family is just as good as mine.
Mother says, however, that there is no knowing how things might change,
and that I should never have cared for him if I had seen more people.
But I should,--no one can know that but I. It only happened yesterday,
uncle, and I told mamma last night. But she says she will not consent
to acknowledge an engagement nor to any correspondence. I should be a
great deal happier if she would."
"Well, Emberance, I will hear what your mother has to say about it. You
will hardly have any attention to spare for the real object of my
visit."
"Oh, yes, uncle, I shall," said Emberance, readily.
"_You_, I believe, have not been kept in ignorance of the circumstances
by which your father lost his inheritance?"
"I know that my uncle made my grandfather believe what was not true
about him."
"So we have feared," said the Canon, "but, my dear, it is right that you
should also know that there was very much that was quite true to cause
your grandfather anger."