“We don’t know anything, you know, Katie,” said Emberance gently, “only that there was an accident.”
“But mamma thinks—oh, I don’t know what she thinks.”
“Uncle Kingsworth told me once that it was better not to think about it at all. He said that we had no right to entertain dreadful suspicions of either.”
Emberance spoke very gravely: but with a matter-of-course quietness that was the greatest possible contrast to Kate’s excited horror.
“I shall never forget it! never get it out of my mind! Emmy, does every one know?”
“I suppose they know as much as we do,” said Emberance.
Katharine was silent for a moment, then burst out again. “But Uncle James was wicked—ah, I forgot he is your father—oh it is all dreadful, every way.”
“You see, Kate,” said Emberance, “the way I have got to look on it is this. I expect that neither my father nor yours were exactly—good. Of course it would be much better and happier if we could look back on them as other girls do; but as we can’t, and as it isn’t our fault in any way, why should we let it spoil our lives altogether? We have got our mothers and—and other people to care about, and it’s not our fault.”
“But—mother says that you ought to have all the money, that it ought not to be mine. How could I help that?”
“As to that,” said Emberance resolutely, “I was always determined that all those fancies should not spoil my life. I got quite tired of the subject long ago. Grandfather Kingsworth had a perfect right to do what he liked with the place; and if my father had had it, why Kitty, I don’t think there would have been much left now, and that’s the truth. I am very happy, and so may you be. Don’t think about it at all.”