Kingsworth: or, The Aim of a Life

“James’ deserts do not affect the question. Better give up all than retain part, even unfairly. My husband deceived his father, his daughter shall not enjoy the reward of that deception.”

“But the scandal, the publicity – ”

“I do not care for the scandal. The real shame lies in the fact, not in the knowledge of it. Let every one know the part my husband played; sin must bring shame. They will know too that his daughter has no part in the matter.”

“And how could James’ memory come out?”

“I do not care to clear James’ memory, but my own hands and Katharine’s. I do not care what becomes of Kingsworth. Let it go to ruin, – what is that to me?”

“It certainly ought to be something to Katharine, – a Kingsworth herself,” said the Canon, somewhat affronted.

“So,” pursued Mrs Kingsworth, unheeding, “I thought she should have a ready-made life independent of Kingsworth, that her affections should not cling to it. When her hands are free, then I should wish her to have the chance of marrying like other girls, though I hope she will remain single.”

“You would be very much blamed, Mary, if you did not give the child an opportunity of judging for herself.”

“Well, – possibly. You think I ought to take her to Kingsworth now?”

“Yes, and I entreat you to avoid influencing her decision.”

“Well, I promise to leave her to work it out for herself.”

“That is right, Mary. And at any rate show her something of the ordinary life and interests of young ladies. I allow that the circumstances are very unusual, and I think she does owe much consideration towards Emberance. Ask her to stay with you at Kingsworth, she is a charming girl.”

“I have no wish to know anything of Emberance,” said Mrs Kingsworth, hastily, “it is not for her sake I act, but, – well, if you think it might incline Katharine to what I wish.”

“I think the two cousins ought to know each other. Now the question is how far Kate should be told of past events. I should say as little as possible.”