“Well,” he said, “James has told me the whole story. It was very foolish, he had no right to marry in the relations in which he stood towards his father; but the whole thing has been much misrepresented. I take blame to myself for my hasty account of it.”
“It ought to be set right,” said Mrs Kingsworth, steadily.
“Set right? do you mean reverse the will? Ah, my dear, that is impossible: but I think that though my brother might in any case have made the same will in the main, had he known the facts, he would not have left James penniless.”
“He would not have made any new will at all, but for that false report,” said Mrs Kingsworth. Her tone was so marked and so miserable that Canon Kingsworth turned away from the subject at once.
“I shall take an opportunity of talking to George,” he said, “to-morrow, when our minds are quieter. I am very anxious to avoid further discussion to-night. James is very angry, and I am afraid unforgetable words passed as he went out.”
“Has he gone out?”
“Yes; I think George did so too, afterwards.”
Mrs Kingsworth sat on by the fire, she felt no impulse to move, to talk the matter over, or to try to gain any new lights upon it. She was absolutely silent; while the Canon took up a book from the table, and read, or feigned to read it, till the butler looked in and said, “Will the gentlemen be in to dinner, ma’am?”
“To dinner? Is it dinner-time? Are they still out? Oh yes, we will wait for them.”
They waited, till the Canon grew impatient, and went to look out of the window.