“Except a purchaser,” said Katharine’s mother. “Will it not be long before we find one?”
“Well,” said the Canon, “to tell you the truth I have heard of a possible purchaser,—of a gentleman who would like to have the place if it were in the market.”
“Who is it? What is his name?” asked Kate, eagerly.
“Why, he is a gentleman of some fortune, and his name,—I don’t think my man of business was very particular about his name. I, of course, could not entertain the proposal, but his name—his name, I think, is James.”
“Mr James,—oh!” said Katharine, “that doesn’t sound interesting.”
“It is a very good name, my dear,” said the Canon, mildly. “Well, then there will be many troublesome legal formalities, but I consider that I have Katharine’s permission to put the matter in train.”
“Yes, uncle,” said Kate, as all being glad to end the interview, there was a general move.
“Canon,” said his wife, “I am ashamed of you.”
“Well, my dear,” said the Canon, “his name is James, you know.”
The two girls went off together; Kate coaxing Emberance to tell her about Malcolm and to make plans for the future, and Emberance falling into a terror, as the idea struck her that her mother would regard Malcolm with more unfavourable eyes than ever, now she was possessed of this fortune. Still she thought that with the powerful backing up of the Canon this difficulty might be overcome, and in truth her uncle had made it his business to ascertain that the New Zealand cousins were solvent, prosperous persons, and that there would be no undue risk in a connection with them. He would write to Malcolm Mackenzie, and give him leave to bring matters to a point. All this had been settled with Emberance in a conversation before they left Fanchester, when she had convinced her uncle that Malcolm and New Zealand were and would be her deliberate and unalterable choice. Meanwhile, Mrs Kingsworth, restless from a sense of relief which she could not realise, and bewildered by the apparent ease with which her long-cherished object had been attained, put on her things, and went out for a walk. A curious desire seized her to look round the place once more, now that it was freed from the sense of wrong-doing, that had made it hateful to her. She had done her best not to look, not to see, when she had been there before; but now she looked about her with an odd sort of curiosity, as she turned her steps for the first time down towards the shore.