“But you don’t mind his being poor,” said Kate eagerly.
“No, no! I shall be true and faithful for ever and ever. But he wrote that I must be told, for when he asked me, he had fair prospects, and now he has none,—and there is no tie between us, he shall not think me faithless if I give him up. Oh, I wish we had been married first and lost the money afterwards. Now I shall never know where he is—and it just means that all chance is over.”
“If you could only go out and surprise him,” said Kate.
“Oh, that is folly! If he can’t keep himself he can’t keep me. And mamma would not consent—so how could I get there? Oh, dear, the years are so long, and he will be so disappointed. It is so far away!” sobbed Emberance incoherently, feeling, poor girl, that the trial demanded of her was almost more than she was capable of enduring.
Katharine stood silent, with her hand on Emberance’s shoulder. Her bright colour paled a little, and the sudden thought that came into her mind did not as usual find its way at once to her lips.
Here was the motive power, here the proof that the old wrong was working mischief, and that “even between two girls” it did signify which was the rich one. That which as her mother put it had seemed an abstraction and a dream, suddenly faced her as a reality of life. Suddenly she felt how she might have been regarded by Emberance, and how pure and free and kind had been the love which Emberance had actually shown her.
“Don’t cry,” she said, “perhaps something will happen yet. And, Emmy, any way you will always know that you hadn’t any money when Mr Mackenzie loved you first.”
“Ah, no, but money does make things possible. I don’t love him less because he is poor. You don’t know life, Kitty.”
“Don’t I? You’ll never have to think he loved you because you were rich,” said Kate gravely.
“Oh, there is the quarter striking! I am not fit to be seen,” said Emberance, starting up.