In the early spring Kate and her mother came to Fanchester to pay the
Canon a long visit, after which their plans were uncertain; Kate wanted
to go abroad, and Mrs Kingsworth had a great longing for a few quiet
weeks at Applehurst. "But," thought Kate, "once there we shall never
get out again."
She was a good deal more like other young ladies than at the time of her
former visit, and no longer went into ecstasies over kid gloves and
evening parties, she was also less abrupt in manner, and had learned
from Emberance to occupy herself with ordinary girlish pursuits, so that
she seemed less idle. She was prettier too, and less exuberantly
youthful.
On the very evening of their arrival Mrs Kingsworth sought a private
interview with the Canon, and told him how Katharine had volunteered her
willingness to give up the estate; but had declined to give a definite
promise that she would do so.
"It was a great relief to me--a very great relief," Mrs Kingsworth
said, rather as if the relief had been difficult to realise.
"So," said the old Canon, "Kate comes of age, does she not, next
January? Mrs James will enjoy reigning at Kingsworth, eh, Mary?"
"You do not think I care for that!" said Mary indignantly, and with
rising colour. "It is _nothing_ to me what becomes of it. Indeed I
believe Emberance is much better without it."
"She might sell it," suggested the Canon.
"She might, but I suppose you would all think that wrong," said Mrs
Kingsworth; "you would not think it wise to speak to Katie?"
"Well, yes. I think, on a favourable opportunity, I will," said the
Canon; but he made no promises as to what he would say to her.
He observed with pleasure the warmth of the greeting between the
cousins, and contrived that Kate should be allowed to go and spend the
day with her aunt.
It was not till she had been more than a week at Fanchester, that he
entered on the subject; when he took her into his handsome library, full
of dignified and learned literature, and comfortable as befitted the age
and position of its owner. He politely recommended to her a great
chair, which would have been nearly large enough for her to sleep in.
Katharine perched herself upon the edge of it, and took the sleek and
solemn tabby cat, who shared the Canon's learned repose, on her knee.
"Uncle, why do you call this cat Archibald?" she said.
"Why, my dear, when he was a kitten, now some years ago, your aunt tied
a bell round his neck; and by one of those changes which make the
history of nicknames very interesting and curious, the name which should
properly have belonged to her was applied to the cat himself. And
Archibald he remains. Perhaps he will allow you to call him Archie."
"I should not think of taking such a liberty. He is so dignified and
thinks so well of himself! I wonder what he would say to Emmy's white
kitten. Isn't Aunt Ellen's a pretty house? I think it must be _so_
cheerful to live in a row of villas!"
"Your expectations of Kingsworth have been a little disappointed, I
fancy."
Katharine coloured deeply.
"No," she said with some reserve. "I like Kingsworth well enough, much
better than Applehurst; but I should like living anywhere else just as
well."
"You do not find yourself growing attached to it?"
"N-o," said Kate, "I don't think I do. I suppose mamma has been talking
to you," she added, "I do not mind giving up Kingsworth, there would be
no more trouble about it then."
"My dear," said the Canon, "you do not quite know what you are talking
about. It is true that you will be well provided for in any case by
your mother's fortune, and Kingsworth does not make you a great heiress;
but it gives you a position of which you will think more at twenty-five
than at twenty-one and more again at five and thirty. No doubt it will
bring you trouble and responsibility; but dread of these is not the
reason which weighs with your mother."
"Uncle Kingsworth," said Kate frankly, though with some confusion, "I
don't see how I shall know better what to do when I am twenty-one than I
do now. I wish to do right, and it can't be wrong to obey mamma and do
what she wishes. I do not feel as she does, I don't think we understand
enough about it to feel sure that Kingsworth should be Emberance's,
and--Cousin Walter Kingsworth said _he_ should give it up in my place."
"He did--did he? When did he have the chance of expressing an opinion?"
"I thought, being a cousin, I might ask him, and I supposed he would
know."
"Then, my dear, if your mother wishes it, and a person whom you trust
approves of it, and you do not feel the sacrifice beyond your powers,
what holds you back?"
Katharine hesitated, her brow contracted and an expression of strained
attention came into her eyes. She could hardly grasp her own thought,
to express it was still more difficult.
"You said, I must judge for my own self," she said.
"And your own judgment is different."
"Uncle," said Kate with a trembling voice, "I _have_ thought and
considered, and I have tried not to be childish. I should like, oh so
much! to get rid of it, and be like other girls; but--but it seems to
have been put on me to--to--make up for papa. And when there is no
other reason _clear_ except the trouble of it, oh, uncle! I should not
_really_ be what mamma calls worthy if I gave it up, and told every one
my father did wrong, when perhaps he did not. That's my _own_ judgment,
uncle, my _own_ conscience, but--but--I wish--I wish I did not feel so,
with all my heart."
"Then, my dear child, your own conscience is the light that you must
follow. You are a good girl, Kate, and your mother's own daughter after
all. Keep your principle, even if in the future you change your
conclusion. Let nothing tempt you to do what you think _may_ be wrong,
and in the end no doubt you will arrive at a right decision."
Katharine sighed, her uncle had not helped her to get rid of her
responsibilities; but she was pleased by his appreciation of her
motives, and in her heart knew that he was right. She liked, too, being
at Fanchester, and even her mother, whose habit of seclusion had been
broken, was much happier than on the former occasion, and suffered less
from the shyness of which at her years and in her position, she was so
exceedingly ashamed. The Canon also invited Walter Kingsworth and one
of his sisters to come and pay him a visit; and the elder branch of the
family must have been very anxious to renew intercourse with the
younger; for not only did business offer no impediment to Walter's
acceptance of the invitation, but his father came down with them to
Fanchester and paid his respects to his old cousin the Canon, to whom he
bore a sufficiently strong likeness to delight the younger ones, who all
fell into a fervour of family feeling, and traced their pedigrees, and
discovered their common ancestors, with the greatest delight. Kate
began to respect Kingsworth much more seriously. Eva, the North-country
cousin, was clever and romantic, and actually concocted a copy of
verses, on a certain Walter who had been engaged in a Jacobite plot, and
had gone to prison sooner than reveal the hiding-place of his
fellow-conspirators, which verses ended with an aspiration that they
might all be worthy of their heroic ancestor. Katharine, full of
excitement, seized on the poem, and rushed to her mother, to expatiate
on Eva's wonderful talents, and to tell the story of the high-minded
Walter. Mrs Kingsworth listened with an odd sort of smile, and
presently unlocked a box which had been sent for from Applehurst, to
search for some missing business papers, took out an old sketch-book,
and displayed a pen-and-ink drawing of a cavalier, with a Kingsworth
nose, submitting to be handcuffed by some very truculent looking
soldiers in cocked-hats and pigtails.
"Mamma! did _you_ draw that? You! Did you know about our ancestor?"
cried Kate, open-mouthed.
"Oh yes, my dear, I was very fond of drawing when I was young. I was
glad to marry into a family with a hero in it," she added half to
herself.
"Let me show it to Eva! Why, _she_ drew a picture of Richard
Coeur-de-Lion in prison!"
Eva duly admired the drawing, and showed her own; and behold there was a
crack in the ice. The new games, introduced by the Silthorpe cousins,
in which drawing, verse-making, and odds and ends of knowledge came into
play, proved old ones to Mrs Kingsworth. She was drawn into the circle
of young people, and became a leading spirit; with twice as many ideas
as Emberance, and four times as much faculty as Kate, she could laugh
and argue and hold her own amid the merry clatter, and when Kate
listened amazed she recollected that an attempt to teach her some of
these little amusements had been scouted as "making play into lessons."
How handsome her mother looked as she puzzled them all or triumphantly
penetrated their puzzles.
"Take my word for it, my dear fellow," said Mr Kingsworth to his son,
on one occasion, "Mrs George Kingsworth is worth all the young ladies
together."
Of course Walter took the line of laughing at the heroism and crying
down the heroes; but he by no means avoided either the games or the
discussions, and Kate and he became more and more friendly and cousinly,
till she began to derive opinions from him and think they were her own,
while Major Clare was driven into a very small corner of her mind
indeed. She soon learned to take a proper interest in the cathedral,
and would have been very much surprised to be reminded of her original
preference for a shop.
It was impossible that she should forget her former attempt at
consulting Walter, and though he avoided the subject, her perceptions
were not acute enough to discover this. One afternoon as they walked up
and down the Canon's garden, admiring the spring green of the trees
against the grey walls that shut them in, she said,--
"I have thought about Kingsworth every day since that time last year;
but I cannot decide the matter yet."
"I wish Kingsworth did not belong to you, Katharine, that you had no
concern with it," said Walter, abruptly.
"Ah--why? You think--it ought not to belong to me?"
"No, no," he said, hurriedly. "I do not think that."
"Of course," said Kate, "it is all wrong any way. Sir Walter and all
our ancestors would be dreadfully grieved that it should not be
inherited by the rightful heir."
"If Emberance--"
"But I don't mean Emberance," interposed Kate. "I mean _you_. You are
our ancestor's heir. What would they say to the place coming to a girl
like me, or to Emmy either?"
"That is romantic nonsense," said Walter almost fiercely, and colouring
to his hair roots, "I have no more to do with it than I have with
Mayford, than I have with the deanery of Fanchester. I wish there was
no such place, I wish the sea would swallow it up, it's a--a
stumbling-block, and an incumbrance. I wish it was in South Africa!"
"Dear me, Walter," said Kate, "I don't see why you should hate it so. I
don't care about it much myself; but I have liked it better since I
heard about our ancestors, it seems more worth while to do right about
it. I know _you_ think I ought to give it to Emberance."
"I wish--I wish--I can't advise you, Kate, I--I--There's Eva--isn't it
tea-time?"
He turned away and left her abruptly: while she, surprised at his
manner, began to seek for some explanation of it. Why should he hate
Kingsworth? Why should he refuse to tell her what he thought to be her
duty? Kate did not hit even in a guess on the right explanation; her
frank pleasant intercourse with Walter was so unlike her past experience
of any one's attentions, but it did occur to her that he might possibly
admire Emberance. Kate did not like the notion, it made her
uncomfortable, yet it inclined her more to the sacrifice than anything
which had yet passed. If Emmy had it, and married Walter, how right,
according to all principles, everything would come. The real old head
of the family, and the rightful heiress would reign, while she having
had her day and her disappointment, would act the beneficent genius
and--retire.
But then, Emberance had another love, and--and "I don't think," said
honest Kate to herself, "that I _do_ feel quite like having had my day.
I was _very_ young, and--I believe I shall get over it! I--I think I
have!"
But Mrs Kingsworth, from the drawing-room window, had watched the pair
strolling up and down, and a new idea occurred to her that fell like a
cold chill on her reviving interests. If this pleasant, clever,
well-bred young man, was, after all, not disinterested. If he had an
eye to Kate and to Kingsworth, how completely her daughter's wavering
mind would be set in the wrong direction, how right it would all be made
to seem while justice was as far as ever from being done.
"I ought to go out and join them," she thought, then she wavered, afraid
of raising a suspicion, and feeling awkward and doubtful.
"Oh dear! I'm not fit to be any girl's mother," she thought,
despairingly. "Well, now they have parted, and Walter is coming in."
Walter came up stairs and into the drawing-room--he took up a book and
threw it down again--read the paper upside down, and fidgeted about the
room; while she could not think of a word to say to him. Suddenly he
came towards her, and threw himself into a chair near the sofa where she
was sitting.
"Mrs Kingsworth! I--I have made up my mind to confide in you. I am in
a great perplexity. I--I love your daughter, most--most thoroughly--but
the circumstances, how can I--I of all men--appear before her in the
light of a fortune-hunter? Kingsworth raises a barrier between us. Yet
I cannot, there are reasons, insuperable reasons, why _I_ cannot
persuade her to deprive herself of it. I--I must go away from her till
her birthday is past, and she has decided without me. I--you are so
sincere a person that I feel sure you will recognise my sincerity."
Mrs Kingsworth, in spite of her momentary suspicions, was utterly taken
by surprise at finding them so quickly realised.
"Katharine?" she said, "but since when, have you learnt so to regard
her?"
"Since when? Since the first moment I saw her, since I saw her
confidence and simplicity, her--herself! I am well aware," he added,
restraining himself and speaking in a different tone, "that under _any_
circumstances, even without Kingsworth, Katharine's claims are high, but
my father is a rich man and liberal; I think I could have ventured to
address her on something like equal terms, but for Kingsworth."
"What is your view about Kingsworth?" said Mrs Kingsworth abruptly.
"What is your opinion as to Kate's duty?"
"To you perhaps I may say, that I would not keep it with a doubtful
right. It would make me uncomfortable. But there is no such clear
distinction of right and wrong in the matter as to justify any one in
urging such a view on her. I would give much that Emberance had
inherited it, and that I could have met Katharine under other
circumstances. But now," he added, "I want your advice, if you will
give me any."
"I should like Katharine to marry you," said Mrs Kingsworth abruptly.
"I do not think you care for Kingsworth. If she gives it up, I think
you would make her happy. But you know it is no great fortune, it would
hardly justify a _man_ in living without a profession."
"Oh no," said Walter hastily, and blushing vividly. "I am aware of
that. But it is--a desirable possession."
"If it were a diamond ring, or a kingdom, I should feel the same about
it!" said Mrs Kingsworth. "It has come to us through ill-doing."
"But--what shall I do? I cannot urge her to yield what she may
afterwards learn the value of, and--it is a question on which I cannot
enter. Besides, she--she is entirely indifferent and unconscious; it
would take time to win her, if ever I could. Have I a chance? What is
my best hope?"
He looked very wistful and melancholy, having evidently for the moment
forgotten Kingsworth in Katharine.
Mrs Kingsworth looked interested and perplexed. "I do not know," she
said, "I do not know Katharine's feelings. I think she is fond of you;
but, sometimes I have doubted her having much power of attachment."
"Why--she is full of feeling!" exclaimed the lover indignantly.
"Is she? I think she puzzles me. But I do see that she must be left to
her own decision. Perhaps," she added with an odd sort of dignity, "we
had better renew this conversation after she is of age, and till then,
let things go on as usual."
"It is perhaps the best way," said Walter. "Then you do not send me
away, till next week, till my visit is over."
"No, I do not see why I should. And you know she has _almost_ promised
me to decide as we wish."
Walter was more grateful for the unconscious evidence of trust shown in
that "we," than for a thousand protestations. Mrs Kingsworth continued
after a little pause, "and probably, if her feelings are in your favour,
your view will unconsciously influence her."
Walter could hardly help a smile at the musing simplicity of the tone;
but he gratefully thanked Mrs Kingsworth for her confidence, and
stayed. His father, after a long talk with the Canon, went home the
next day, making a _detour_ to look at Kingsworth as he went.