"Yes, Miss Deane, I have always had a great curiosity to see, what to
speak romantically I may call the home of my ancestors; but I did not
know that I should meet any connections here."
"But that is too delightful. A disinherited prince in real life!"
"No, no, Miss Deane, I am afraid `disinheritance' is not quite to the
point."
The speaker was a tall young man of four or five and twenty, whose
roundish dark eyes and hooked nose were sufficiently of the Kingsworth
type to satisfy any one on the look-out for a family likeness, while his
good looks and pleasant open expression were enough to account for the
interest which Miss Deane was expressing in his presence at the ball;
the large rooms at Mayford were all gay with lights and flowers, as the
company began to assemble from all the country round, for the Deanes
were popular people, and the ball a large one.
"Not disinherited? Then who are you, Mr Kingsworth? And how does this
little cousin come into possession?"
"Kingsworth belonged to our family, and the entail was cut off and the
place sold some time in the last century by the owner who had ruined
himself on the turf. He, however, left two sons, who set to work in
various ways to earn their own living, and from the elder of these I am
descended. We have been solicitors ever since my grandfather's time,
and that Kingsworth ever belonged to us is a mere tradition. The
younger son's family went into trade and made, I suppose, a large
fortune, for you know they bought Kingsworth back. Perhaps there was
some old quarrel, we have never had any intercourse with them; but you
see, I can't exactly call myself disinherited."
"Well, no; but still you come of course with indescribable feelings to
see the birthplace of your race?"
Mr Kingsworth shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "When your cousin
kindly gave me Mrs Deane's invitation, he offered Kingsworth as an
inducement, and I liked the idea of seeing it. I once called on the old
Canon when I went to Fanchester, and he told me that the other branch
was represented by a young lady. Is she here now?"
"She is just coming in. That is Mrs George Kingsworth, her mother,
that is her cousin Emberance, and the little one is Katharine."
"One of _my_ sisters is called Emberance," said Mr Kingsworth in a tone
of surprise.
"Ah, you see the links are not quite broken. Come, and I will introduce
you to your cousins."
Neither Katharine nor her mother had ever realised the existence of
these north-country Kingsworths; but Emberance, far better informed in
all the family traditions, knew who he was at once, and expressed a
proper amount of pleasure at meeting him.
Mrs Kingsworth, when the circumstances had been explained to her, felt
a curious sense of perplexity at the discovery of an elder heir. She
was obliged to repeat the story over again mentally to divest herself of
the feeling that his appearance had in some way rendered the contention
futile between the rights of Emberance and Katharine. She recollected a
saying of the Canon's which at the time had given her great umbrage.
"After all, Mary, one girl is much the same as another, it is not as if
there were a boy in the case."
"Right is right for girl or boy," she had answered truly enough.
She looked round at the gay scene almost as unfamiliar to her as to her
child, for her girlhood had been short and quietly spent, and she felt
that it was all distasteful and out of tune. Her stately beauty in her
black velvet dress and white cap was more unusual and met with more
comment than the charms of the two pretty girls who accompanied her, but
she was ill at ease and shy after her long seclusion, unready with
smiles and small talk, hardly knowing how to receive graciously the
praises of Kate, or congratulations on her return, and noticing keenly
every trifling indication which showed the heiress to be superior in
importance to her cousin. These perplexities spoiled all a mother's
natural pleasures in her child's enjoyment and success, she forgot to
count Kate's partners, and never thought to observe which were her
favourite ones. Indeed so preoccupied was she that it never occurred to
her to put herself in Katharine's place or to realise the possibilities
of a young girl's entrance into society.
Kate meanwhile enjoyed herself without a misgiving, and did not suffer
from any lack of partners. She was dimly aware that she liked dancing
with Major Clare better than with any one else, and was pleased to think
that he liked dancing with her. His sentiments were more defined. He
wished to marry, and thought that Miss Kingsworth of Kingsworth was a
very suitable choice, and he liked Kate herself and admired her
appearance; but her _brusquerie_ and self-absorption had hitherto
deprived her simplicity of the softness which might have given it the
charm it lacked. She was not in the least fascinating. Emberance could
"play up to him" far better in any little passage of arms or exchange of
jokes, and instinctively he knew that quiet and well behaved as she was,
she cared far more both to please and to give pleasure.
But the little consciousness towards himself that was coming upon
Katharine gave her more attraction; and the ball helped matters some way
forward.
Walter Kingsworth meanwhile thought that he had met two very pleasant
cousins, a few degrees of distance more or less did not make much
difference when once the title was acceded, and he was not ill pleased
to be told by Mrs Deane that both he and Katharine were like the Canon.
"Uncle Kingsworth says," said Kate, "that he is an owl, and I am an
owlet."
"Ah," said the new cousin, "my brothers and schoolfellows used to be in
the habit of hooting at me, which I thought an insult; but now I shall
plume myself on the resemblance."
"Shall you?" said Kate. "I don't know that it is so very comfortable to
be a Kingsworth. But it is nice to have relations. I have enjoyed
myself much more since I knew Emberance. Are you going to stay at
Mayford?"
"For a few days, for some pheasant-shooting. May I come and see
Kingsworth?"
"Oh, yes! But it isn't pretty. It is not as nice as many other houses.
I think even Applehurst was nicer in itself. But then, there was no
one to speak to, and as to going to a ball, I never _dreamed_ of such a
thing. I am very glad we came to Kingsworth."
"I shall like to see it, pretty or ugly," said her cousin as the music
struck up again and Kate's partner came to claim her.
"And why do you like Kingsworth better than Applehurst?" said Major
Clare, as they came--rather quickly--to a pause in the waltz. Kate's
waltzing was not first-rate.
"Oh--because of friends," said Kate. "I was always by myself at
Applehurst. Now I have Emberance, and even when she goes home, I shall
have Rose and Minnie. And I don't like seclusion; society is much
pleasanter."
"Are Rose and Minnie the only new friends who make Kingsworth pleasant
to you?" said the Major, in rather a sentimental tone and with some
curiosity to see how she would avail herself of this opening. She said
"No," quite simply and plainly, but her eyes drooped and she blushed
vividly.
"I am glad of that," said Major Clare. "I want to be among the new
friends that make Kingsworth pleasant to you. Because, you see, having
friends at the great house has made my stay here quite a different thing
for me. I used to think Kingsworth such a dull place, but now I have
our walks, and games, and expeditions, they don't fail in interest. Do
you remember that day, etc, etc," till all sorts of new feelings, new
ideas, and new possibilities were throbbing in Katharine's heart, and
changing the child into a woman.
Emberance meanwhile had had a very successful evening and had thoroughly
enjoyed both the dancing and the success. For Emberance knew what a
girl's laurels are, and when they fell to her own share, she liked to
crown her brows with them, even while she honestly called Malcolm
Mackenzie to mind and hoped to herself that he was happy too.
But she was not nearly so much excited or so full of the ball afterwards
as Kate, having indeed seen a few others, and Mrs Kingsworth sighed to
think that her girl should be so much more frivolous than was common.
A little more tact and observation would have shown her that something
which was not frivolous was beginning to mingle in the pleasant trifling
intercourse of daily life. She had not herself seen very much of Major
Clare, and hearing him spoken of as the Vicar's brother, had never
realised how completely he was the companion of his nieces and their
friends. She had lived so secluded a life and was of so unpractical a
nature herself, that while she anxiously speculated whether Kate was not
too fond of dancing and of dress, she never guessed that the dress was
beginning to be worn and the dance to be valued for something more than
itself.
No one could accuse Kate of contempt for simple pleasures, and she was
quite as eager about an expedition for gathering blackberries, a day or
two afterwards, as she had been about going to the ball itself.
"If you will only let us come and help you to _make_ the jam, Minnie,"
she said, "I think that would be the greatest fun of all."
"I am afraid we are not domestic enough to make it ourselves," said
Minnie.
"Don't you? Emmy does. She makes jam every summer."
Emberance would not have herself made this announcement; but she had the
tact to answer readily.
"Yes, and very hot work you would find it, Kitty, if you really had it
to do. Picking the blackberries is much pleasanter."
"Everything in its turn," said Kate, as she walked along the lane in the
bright autumn sunlight, swinging her basket on her arm.
They had turned away from the sea, and the view offered nothing but
commonplace fields and hedgerows, bounded by low chalky downs, but with
the blue sky over head, and the rich autumn tinting of the hedges, the
blackberry lane afforded a pretty setting for the group of young people,
as they walked along laughing and chattering, Kate running ahead, and
playing with the dogs, while Emberance followed more soberly in the
rear, with the handsome picturesque Major by her side.
"Such fresh enjoyment is rare," he said, rather sentimentally. "How
long can it last?"
"Katharine has never had any troubles, and she is naturally lively,"
returned Emberance.
"It is pretty to look at--but doesn't it place a creature rather out of
one's sympathy, like a bird or a fairy? It is so very long since any
outward circumstances could afford that sort of rapture."
"Yes!" returned Emberance, with a sigh for New Zealand, and then her
conscience smote her, for, after all, was she not enjoying herself very
much?
She blushed and then continued laughing:
"But you know, Major Clare, we are simple-minded country girls, and we
do enjoy picking blackberries. Of course, it can't be expected that
_you_ should feel excitement at anything short of a tiger hunt."
"You don't know how much better I like the blackberrying."
"Have you actually exhausted tiger hunts? Do see if pricking your
fingers in that very thorny bramble will afford you a fresh sensation."
Emberance could talk, and she was very pretty, much prettier, the Major
thought, than her heiress-cousin, and her honest desire to behave as a
young lady with a secret engagement should, combining with her natural
taste for little attentions, gave her a kind of consciousness that was
pleasing to him. But it was but a faint and languid satisfaction, and
he presently turned away in search of Kate in the hope that her naivete
might afford him a more lively one.
She was picking--and eating--blackberries with all her might, comparing
her basket with her companions', scratching her fingers, and tearing her
gown with the most entire enjoyment.
Major Clare was a very lazy picker, but he strolled up to her side, and
contributed a few blackberries to her basket, asking her if she found
the amusement begin to pall upon her.
"Oh, no!" said Kate. "Besides Mrs Clare wants at least fourteen pounds
of jam, she has only got six now, so there are a great many more to
gather."
"Oh, I perceive you look on it from a business point of view."
"Why! we shouldn't come to gather blackberries if they were of no use!
Of course it's _great_ fun into the bargain."
"I am afraid I don't appreciate the blackberry jam after it is made."
"Oh no," returned Kate, seriously. "I don't suppose you do. Because of
course you are accustomed to all sorts of wonderful fruits in India.
And in the same way after hunting elephants, and tigers, and having
picnics in jangles, I dare say it seems very dull to gather
blackberries. That's quite natural."
"But suppose," said Major Clare, repeating his remark to Emberance, but
somehow moved to do so in a more serious manner, by the entire good
faith of Kate's excuse for him--"suppose one had outlived the tiger
hunts, etc, and that they too had ceased to have any power to charm?
Could you understand a sort of general indifference, not to say
disgust?"
Kate looked full at him for a moment, with her round brown eyes quite
blank. Then they deepened and softened.
"But then you would be unhappy," she said.
"Well?"
"I mean, something must have happened to make you unhappy."
She turned her eyes away and blushed. The idea pained her, she hardly
knew why.
"You evidently don't take in the meaning of being _blase_."
"Oh yes," said Kate, "it is when people are wicked and have worn out
simple pleasures."
Major Clare laughed.
"Miss Kingsworth," he said, "I am talking a great deal of nonsense to
you. I do like picking blackberries--sometimes even now."
"Of course," said Kate, "my mother does not enjoy things as I do. But
then she is unhappy because my father was drowned."
"I hope with all my heart," said the Major, "that you will never have
cause to be unhappy. And I hardly think experience will show you the
way to be always bored."
"Why no," said Kate, "because I think if people can't take an interest
in something they must be very stupid themselves."
"And if they affect not to take an interest?--"
"Well, I don't see why any one should do that!"
"No? Is your basket full? Are you going to have another blackberrying
to-morrow?"
They had another blackberrying in a few days' time, but the weather had
changed, the frost had touched the fruit, and the downs looked cold and
grey. But Kate was slow in forgetting that last gathering, for Major
Clare told her a long story of a great fern-hunting in the days of his
youth, before he had grown tired of picnics; and of certain early hopes
which had been cruelly blighted.
He had never expected to enjoy those English country pleasures again.
Did Katharine think there could be a second spring of youth and
enjoyment?
Poor Katharine!