Canon Kingsworth when he left Emberance crossed the little garden and entered by a French window into a pleasant little drawing-room, where sat Mrs Kingsworth, and her sister Miss Bury.
The widow was a pretty woman, fair and fresh like her daughter, but with more regularity of feature; her voice and manner too were bright and pleasant. Miss Bury was a gentler, plainer person, and somewhat of an invalid; but she was the more cultivated person of the two, and had been the mainstay of the former school.
Both ladies rose with alacrity to receive the Canon, the best chair was put forward for him, a cup of tea was sent for, and everything done to honour his visit.
His suggestions were not quite so welcome, at least to Mrs Kingsworth, and it needed all her respect for him to induce her to acquiesce in his proposal that Emberance should visit “her father’s house when in the possession of her enemies.”
“My dear Ellen,” said Miss Bury gently, “I think that is an unwise expression.”
“It is one which is not to the point,” said the Canon gravely.
“Well, uncle,” said Mrs Kingsworth, “I give in to your wish. I think you ought to be consulted about Emberance; but I do consider those who keep my child out of her birthright as her enemies. And now the evil of it is seen. I really think I must confide in you, Uncle Kingsworth.”
“Emberance I believe has done so already. What are the objections to this young gentleman? His personal character?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Bury; “that is, I might say, irreproachable.”
Mrs Kingsworth admitted as much, and that even the prospect in New Zealand was fair, but after many words her objections resolved themselves into a determination not to allow Emberance to be bound at her age, “when no one knew what might happen.” And to this she held firm, nor, truth to tell, did the Canon greatly care to shake her resolution.