Coming to an Understanding.
Emberance meanwhile had her own troubles. Not that her thoughts took the same line as Katharine’s; she had never vexed herself about her supposed wrongs, and was much too fond of Kate to begin to do so now. But her love story was a trial to her, and in a very unromantic way. She was a young lively girl, with bright spirits and the readiest interest in all the affairs of life, not raised by character or education above the ordinary temptations of gay young girlhood. At the same time she loved Malcolm Mackenzie honestly and truly, she looked forward to marrying him and to quitting friends and country for his sake, and could she have enjoyed all the little pleasures of her engagement, have received Malcolm’s letters, and have talked about him to Kate, she would hardly have felt the strain of it. But she longed for tidings of Malcolm, she thought about it, she was vaguely unhappy when the sea was rough, read all the information about New Zealand that she could find, and often felt that she never could be happy till the silence between them was ended. And yet she was young and bright, and everything around her was enjoyable, would have been so enjoyable, if the thought of Malcolm had not come to damp it. It seemed so hard that she could not feel free to be happy, that for years and years there must be a shadow on the comfortable commonplace days, filled with little cares and little pleasures that otherwise would have satisfied her so well.
Perhaps the trial would not have taken this form in a more elevated nature, nor was it quite the reason for which Malcolm Mackenzie pitied his far-off love when he thought of all the sorrows of separation; but it was quite compatible in Emberance with a most honest affection for him. She was to go home in time for Christmas, and at home would be much more likely to pick up fragments of intelligence. As to encouraging other admirers, Emberance knew her duty too well to think of such a thing, and of course the little attentions that young men paid were of no serious consequence; still Emberance was not unaware that just for the purposes of a dance or a game of tennis, an idle chat or occasional joke, she and not Kate had the superior attraction. Even Major Clare—and here Emberance’s little bit of self-sufficient fancy was interrupted by a sudden sense of the change in Kate’s ways and manner—she had been sitting over her pretty fancy-work one morning in the drawing-room at Kingsworth, letting her thoughts have their way according as the tossing waves suggested one set of images or the spire of the village church another.
Was Kate really beginning to care for the Major’s dark face, with its nonchalant expression, and quaint dark eyes, and was he at all serious in the constant attention that he was beginning to pay her? Emberance had knowledge enough of the world to think that if so certain side words and glances towards herself had better have been omitted. She was well aware, too, that Katharine had other attractions beside her beaux yeux. Not for any little triumph of her own vanity would she have disturbed “anything real” on its way to Kate; but she was shrewd, and had her doubts of the reality, while Kate’s blushes and consciousness attracted the more attention from her ordinary open and unsentimental manner.
Emberance wondered as she sat and worked, whether such an idea had ever occurred to Mrs Kingsworth. She looked up and watched her aunt as she sat reading—Kate had been sent into another room to perform the hour’s practice which her mother still required of her—and thought that she would try delicately to find out. “Christmas will soon be here, Aunt Mary,” she said, “I am afraid I am much too sorry to go home.”
“My dear, I wish I could keep you over Christmas,” said Mrs Kingsworth, with more warmth than usual. “I don’t know what Katie will do without you. She always pined for a companion, and I am glad she is gratified at last.”
“I shall miss her very much,” said Emberance. “But after all she won’t be quite solitary. There are the Clares, and she likes Minnie very much.”
“Yes, the Clares are ladylike girls, but there are difficulties in close intimacies with strangers.”
“I think,” said Emberance, feeling very doubtful of her ground, “that Kate gets on well with every one. Mr and Miss Deane like her as well as the Clares do, and Minnie was telling me the other day that if ever they made plans for an expedition without us, her uncle was sure to manage for us to be included.”
“Her uncle! Major Clare? Indeed!” said Mrs Kingsworth.