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 I Cornell University Library 
 
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 Mrs. Tregaskjss 
 
 3 1924 031 235 975 
 olin.anx 
 
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appletons' 
 
 tTown an5 Country 
 
 library 
 
 No. i8i 
 
 MRS. TREGASKISS 
 
MRS. TREGASKISS 
 
 A J^OVEL OF ANGLO-AUSTRALIAN LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. CAMPBELL-PRAED 
 
 AUTHOR OF — 
 OUTLAW AND LAWMAKER, CHRISTINA CHARD, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1895 
 
Copyright, 1895, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
COXTEiSTTS. 
 
 CBAFTER 
 
 I. Coming Homb, 
 
 II. Dr. Geneste, . . . . 
 
 III. Unmated 
 
 IV. The Story op Clare Gardtnb, 
 V. Over the Plains, 
 
 VI. How Long ! How Long I 
 
 VII. TheCusacks, 
 
 VIII. Retrospective, 
 
 IX. In the Garden, ... 
 
 X. Light on the Tragedy, . 
 
 XL Mount "Wombo, . . . . 
 
 XII. Old Cyrus Chance, . 
 
 XIII. Blanchard's Romance, 
 
 XIV. "English Mail," 
 
 XV. Down with Fever, . . . . 
 
 XVI. " You Ought not to have Said That,' 
 
 XVIL FairInes, ... . . 
 
 XVin. Clare's Vow, 
 
 XIX. The " Specials " ON Duty, . 
 
 XX. Gladys Pleads, .... 
 
 XXI. The Fire 
 
 XXII. " We Understand Each Other," . 
 
 XXIIL Just a Man, 
 
 FAQE 
 
 1 
 
 11 
 
 26 
 
 40 
 
 65 
 
 65 
 
 79 
 
 93 
 
 105 
 
 115 
 
 123 
 
 134 
 
 147 
 
 161 
 
 171 
 
 185 
 
 198 
 
 214 
 
 228 
 
 241 
 
 255 
 
 263 
 
 274 
 
CHAPTEE 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Poor Mrs. Carmody 388 
 
 The End or the Strike, 301 
 
 At Darra-Darra, 314 
 
 "You Make Mb Hate You!" .... 324 
 
 ' ' Tdrn Agaes, Fair Inbs ! " 335 
 
 It is a Pledge 346 
 
 Outside the Catk . .... 361 
 
 The Penalty, 370 
 
 " The World Between Us," .... 379 
 
 Husband and Wife 388 
 
MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 COMING HOME. 
 
 Clare Teegaskiss was coming home with lier two chil- 
 dren — a girl of six and a baby in arms. She had just 
 arrived at tlie Cedar Hill Terminus on the new railway 
 line " out West." 
 
 Why had they called it Cedar Hill ? Thus she vaguely 
 wondered as the train crawled toward the station, through 
 a sandy plain in wliich there was neitlier liill nor sign of 
 cedar tree visible. Tliere seemed nothing between the 
 great flat and the horizon, except a belt of gidia scrub, 
 marking the course of a creek, or a straggling cluster of 
 tall coolabah trees, or the shape of an incoming bullock 
 dr.xy showing grotesquely against the hot steely sky. The 
 plain was a desolate thirsty expanse of burned up grass and 
 withered shrubs of the prickly lignum vitte, with here and 
 tliere a stunted sandal-wood or brigalow tree, the sleepers 
 of the railway cutting it in two straight lines, till they 
 ended at a row of zinc sheds, beside which the train 
 baited. 
 
 Tlie sun beat pitilessly upon the corrugated roofs and 
 walls of the sheds, wliich were something of the same 
 colour as the sky ; and t1ie dust from the plain made a 
 brownish-yellow haze above the flooring within them, 
 where were piled bales of wool which had been brought 
 down from up-country by drays, and were waiting trans- 
 port to the coast, each compact heap having its own distinc- 
 
2 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 tive brand or initial, to indicate the owner of the slieep 
 station whence it had come. Outside the sheds lay rubbish 
 left by the railway workers — monnds of caked soil, scattered 
 logs and planks, slabs of zinc, lengths of rusty iron, and 
 disused implements. Several goods waggons were drawn 
 up at a siding, tarpaulin-covered, and loaded with bales of 
 wool. The station master, in shirt sleeves, and a couple of 
 grimy porters were waiting on the platform ; and a small 
 crowd of rough, bearded men, mostly in moleskins and 
 Crimean shirts, open at the breast, with one or two among 
 them of the squatter order in thin'alapaca coats, pressed 
 forward to meet certain feminine arrivals, of whom several 
 were, on the face of things, barmaids. None of these men 
 had come to meet Mrs. Tregaskiss ; she discovered this 
 fact in a rapid glance along the platform, and waited till 
 the crowd had dispersed and the station was comparatively 
 quiet. From outside the railway sheds came the sound of 
 clanking yokes and chains, of cracking whips and bullock- 
 drivers' oaths ; and as Mrs. Tregaskiss passed out, she saw 
 an array of drays drawn up. Some were tilted and in 
 process of unloading, others were having their beasts 
 unj'oked ; some had small tents erected on top of the wool 
 bales, and carried the wives and families of the bullock- 
 drivers, and more than one was followed by two or three 
 goats to supply milk for the children ; others were just 
 coming in from the bush — strange, lumbering, top-heavy 
 masses drawn by teams of fifteen, twenty, and even twenty- 
 four bullocks, with heads bent under the yoke, heaving 
 flanks, lolling tongues, and streaming saliva making a 
 viscous trail on the dusty road. Their drivers walked 
 beside them, dust-caked, sunburned, knotty-looking fellows, 
 beaded with perspiration, ai'ms and chests bare, and with 
 greasy hats and limp puggarees. They goaded on the 
 tired animals, which turned and butted and gave weary 
 bellows, with mighty lashings of the thick, thonged whip 
 and much blasphemous shouting. 
 
COMIXG HOME. 3 
 
 At tlie opening of the sheds Mrs. Tregaskiss again stood 
 still for a minute or two, and looked to her right and to her ■ 
 left. She seemed to be searching for someone not to be 
 found. There was a faint trace of apprehension in her 
 wide-open brown eyes, and she breathed a little sigh, half 
 impatient, half relieved, while her lips gave an involuntary 
 twitch that weakened momentarily the steadfast curves of 
 her finely modelled mouth. It was a curious mouth, with 
 a patient, melancholy smile, and something fixed and 
 inscrutable in its expression, which, combined with the 
 sensitive lines at the corners and the quickly dilating 
 nostrils above, suggested emotional forces hidden under a 
 sedulous reserve. 
 
 She looked out on a dusty road bordered by zinc houses, 
 with patches of brown grass, and here and there a parched 
 gidia tree between the enclosures. The very vegetation 
 gave an impression of thirst and glare. An hibiscus shrub, 
 flaunting its red blossoms, was an offence to the eye, which 
 found relief only in a green passion vine or native cucum- 
 ber struggling up a bough-shade of withered branches. 
 The zinc buildings threw out cruel diamond gleams. All 
 the houses at Cedar Hill were of zinc — they had travelled 
 up the line to each successive terminus, and as the line 
 went westward, would be packed up and carried to the 
 next township. There was a store, a zinc lock-up, a few 
 dwelling huts, and all the rest of the buildings were public- 
 houses. Fifteen, there were in all — each with its due com- 
 plement of rowdies : bullock-drivers, fencers, shearers, 
 stockmen, diggers, shepherds " on the burst," and the mis- 
 cellaneous riff-raff which collects in a Northern township. 
 An odd background for a lady, who somehow gave the 
 idea that she had been born and brought up among all 
 the subtleties of an Old World civilisation. To a certain 
 extent this was the case, but as a matter of fact Clare 
 Tregaskiss was quite familiar with Bush life in its roughest 
 aspects. For ten years she had been the wife of a western 
 
4 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 squatter, and with the exception of a winter in Sydney, 
 and occasional visits to the coast township of Port Victoria, 
 had lived all those years at Mount Wombo station, in the 
 unsettled district of the Leura. 
 
 She was returning now from a three-months' stay at Port 
 Victoria, during which time the birth of her second living 
 child had taken place. In her absence the line had made 
 a further stage ; and this was her first visit to Cedar Hill. 
 
 Of the fifteen public-houses there was one, standing 
 opposite the railway sheds, which called itself the Terminus 
 Plotel, and had a claim to distinction as being the only 
 place in Cedar Hill where a lady might find respectable 
 accommodation. The building was of zinc too, but its 
 framework was of wood, and it had a double story and 
 veranda, while two tall papaw apple trees in front and a 
 weedy path of garden proclaimed that its site had once been 
 occupied by a shepherd's shanty or a Chinaman's hut, and 
 took away from it somewhat of the stigma of mushroom 
 growth. A number of bushmen were smoking and drinking 
 in the veranda, and several horses were hitched to posts out- 
 side the bar. Mrs. Tregaskiss turned to a black boy follow- 
 ing her, and bade him carry her baggage across to the hotel. 
 The baggage consisted mostly of leather saddle bags, 
 arranged evidently with a view to transit by pack-horse, 
 but there were, as well, a small flat portmanteau, a baby's 
 bassinette sewn up in canvas, and sundry parcels, to be 
 packed into the buggy with which her husband was to 
 meet her here. 
 
 She held her eldest child by the hand, and a young half- 
 caste girl, neatly dressed and wearing uncomfortable- 
 looking new leather boots, came close behind, carrj'ing the 
 baby, who was crying fretfully. The boots, to which she 
 was unaccustomed, hindered her from walking with her 
 native freedom. Mrs. Tregaskiss cast back an occasional 
 anxious glance at the half-caste and her burden. She felt 
 that she ought perhaps to be carrying the baby herself ; 
 
COMING HOME. 5 
 
 and yet, poor thing, it was pathetically evident, in spite of 
 her self-contained calm and patient attention to the matter 
 in hand, that the duties of nurse were not wholly congenial 
 to her temperament, and that possibly the. half caste might 
 manage the infant more dexterously than its mother. 
 
 One of the bullock-drivers coming along with his team 
 suspended a volley of oaths to call out : 
 
 " My word ! if that isn't the Kiddie 1 I'm blowed if 
 she isn't a bigger beauty than she was before she went 
 down. Ell, Miss Ning ? Aren't you going to say. How 
 de do, to Jo Ramm ?" 
 
 The child piped out in a clear, unchildlike voice, which 
 had a curious touch of the blacks' twang : 
 
 " Wow de do, Jo Ramm ? I'se quite well, thank you. 
 I'se not to be called 'Kiddie,' it's not 'spectful, but," — 
 graciously — "I'll 'low you because you is a bullock-driver. 
 What for you scold your bullocks so bad ? Ning not like 
 you. Poor bullocks ! I believe that fellow cobbon tired." 
 
 She stepped a pace forward as if she were going to pat 
 one of the foremost beasts. It lifted his head and opened 
 its great wet mouth in a bellow which did not at all 
 affright Ning, for she kept her ground steadily, while 
 Ramm prodded the animal with his whip and turned it 
 toward its mate from which it had been straying. Ning 
 was a queer elf-like creature, with a prominent forehead, 
 a mass of curly dark hair, and beautiful serious brown eyes 
 — her mother's eyes. The bullock-driver laughed loudly 
 in delight. 
 
 " Bless her ! She don't know what fear is, don't that 
 Kiddie. Beg pardon, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! but it comes 
 natural, seeing it's what her daddy calls her. Oh, she's a 
 rare pickaninny, is that one ! And she haint forgot her 
 blacks' lingo. You see, Miss Ning, he's a nasty, ill-tem- 
 pered, contrary cuss, is that old bally worker, and takes 
 a power of pitching into to make him go, or else stand 
 still when he is wanted to. Yes, you do, you old — blessed 
 
6 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 angel, you ! S'oo ! Wo up there ! I've got an emu's egg 
 I've been keeping for you, Miss Ning, and I'll fetch it 
 across when the swag's got down." 
 
 "Have you seen anything of Mr. Tregaskiss, Ramm ?" 
 asked the lady. She had a very sweet rich voice, with the 
 Australian plaintive note in it, and deeper inflections which 
 belonged to no country, unless it be the kingdom of sorrow. 
 
 " Last I saw of Mr. Tregaskiss was at Brinda Plains 
 a month ago, when there was a cattle muster going on, 
 and all hands at work, and I was fetching rations from 
 Ilgandah. I believe he is on the road behind, coming down 
 to look out for you, ma'am. That's what I made out of 
 Jemmy the Liar, when he passed me this morning with his 
 mails. Shouldn't wonder if that's Jemmy coming in now. 
 You bet he went round to Flood's Selection for a drink." 
 
 There was the sound of hoofs behind and Jemmy Rodd 
 the mailman came clattering along on his raw-boned chest- 
 nut mare, and leading a flea-bitten gray on which were 
 strapped his blanket and a pile of leather mail-bags. At 
 sight of Mrs. Tregaskiss he pulled up. 
 
 " Good-day, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! Glad to see you back. 
 Hope you are pretty well ? " 
 
 " Very well, thank you, Rodd. How do you and the 
 mail get on ? " 
 
 " Oh, I keeps my contract time, ma'am — I keeps my 
 contract time, in spite of the heads of the creeks coming 
 down in a flood when it's as dry as blazes on the plains, 
 and the old chestnut bucking out of her skin when you 
 try to put her into water running over her saddle- 
 flaps. Oh, she knows the Government regulations, that 
 old mare, and she knows it aintin the Government contract 
 to swim creeks above the flaps — no, not for all the com- 
 plaints some bosses choose to lodge agin the mailman. 
 But I should say he has made himself pretty cheap at the 
 General Post Oflice, with his grumblings and his blowings 
 about Brinda Plains, has Mr. Cusack." 
 
COMIXQ HOME. 7 
 
 "Oil, you know that's Jemmy the Liar's way, ma'am," 
 put in Ramm, aside. "Mr. Cusaclc may be a blower, — I 
 don't deny it, — but to my sartin knowledge he has lodged 
 but one complaint, and that was when you went two da3'8 
 on the burst, Jemmy, at the Coffin Lid, and spoilt him 
 a sale through the mail being late. As for the creeks 
 coming down, they haint been down for over a year, bad 
 luck for the country ! and as for that old chestnut — the 
 Leura Terror as you call her," — and Ramm laughed 
 derisively, — " why, she haint got a pig-jump in her, let 
 alone a decent buck." 
 
 Jemmy the Liar was evidently accustomed to having 
 doubts cast upon his veracity, for he bore the reproach 
 with meekness. Mrs. Tregaskiss interposed, repeating lier 
 question to Ramm. " Had Rodd seen anything of Mr. 
 Tregaskiss ? " 
 
 " I passed him this morning camping out by The Grave, 
 and in the devil of a fluster. Something started the 
 buggy horses in the night, and they broke their hobbles 
 and bolted clean away with one of the pack-horses. 
 They're young uns, broken in since you went away, and 
 spankers to go. Tommy George was after them on the 
 other pack-horse, and Mr. Tregaskiss gave me a message 
 for you that he hoped to be down to-night, and that j'ou 
 were to wait for him at Ruffey's." 
 
 "Oil, tliank you, Rodd ! I hope everything is going on 
 well on the Leura ? " 
 
 Rodd did not answer for a moment. Both the men 
 were gazing at Mrs. Tregaskiss ; her voice had a sort of 
 fascination for them. They said it was like music, and 
 Ramm told his wife there were times when it went to 
 his heart. " Seems as if it didn't ought to belong to the 
 bush, somehow — has a kind of tremble in it like bottled- 
 up tears begun to fizz and wanting to be let out." That 
 was how Ramm put it. Jemmy Rodd's verdict upon her 
 long ago had been : " She is a real ladj', and none of 
 
8 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 your jumped-up sort — always ready and obliging with 
 a nip when I brings in the mail-bag after a long day, and 
 no nasty pride about her. She don't mind what she puts 
 her hand to. I've seen her baking a batch of soda-bread 
 in a camp oven, and boiling salt junk for travellers when 
 there was no Chinaman in the kitchen, and the men 
 belonging to the huts camping out." 
 
 " How's things doing on the Leura ? " he repeated. 
 " Water's pretty scarce, ma'am, and Cusack's sheep are 
 dying, and he has put fresh hands on to the bores. There's 
 talk of a strike among the shearers, and we have got a new 
 boss at Darra-Darra. I think that's about all the news. 
 Mount Wombo is looking fresher as to grass than most 
 places, but, my word ! the station seems that miserable 
 without you, Mrs. Tregaskiss— it's just like home when my 
 old woman is away. But Ah Fat has got the garden by 
 the waterhole in first rate order. I expect you will be 
 pleased to hear that." 
 
 " Yes, I am, indeed. You know how much I think of 
 the garden, Rodd. Now, good-day ! I am very much 
 much obliged to you for bringing me the message. I 
 must get over to the hotel. Good-day, Ramm ! Miss 
 Ning will be very delighted with the emu's egg ; it was 
 kind of j'^ou to save it for her." 
 
 "Good-day, Ramm ! " echoed Ning, waving her dis- 
 engaged hand. "Mind you are good, Ramm, and don't 
 you say swear-words. Mummy doesn't like them. And, 
 please, Ramm, be very kind to the poor tii-ed bullocks." 
 
 The postman and the bullock-driver both burst into a half 
 tender laugh as they watched the little party crossing to 
 the hotel. 
 
 "She is a queer one, the pickaninny," said Rodd. "But 
 she's got a taking way with her — like her mother. That's 
 the new baby, I suppose. Its father hasn't set eyes on it 
 
 yet." 
 ." If I had been Tregaskiss, I'd have gone down to Port 
 
COMING HOME. 9 
 
 Victoria to fetch my missus liome," said Ramm, with 
 emphasis. 
 
 "No, you wouldn't — not if you were Tregaskiss. He 
 aint the sort to do lady's man to his missus — thinks she 
 can look after herself. And so she can." 
 
 " And so she can," assented Ramm slowly, adding, after 
 a pause, " and after other people." 
 
 " Meaning the boss. Well, I shouldn't wonder if he 
 did want a bit of playing up to when he is in a scot. He 
 has got a temper, has Ti'egaskiss. My oath ! I've seen 
 him at Wombo kicking up the devil of a row over noth- 
 ing at all, and swearing at the men in a way that only a 
 blamed fool would stand. But he seems fond of his 
 missus, and he is not such a bad chap, taking him all 
 round. What I have to say agin Tregaskiss," continued 
 Rodd, putting on a judicial air, " is that it's not that he 
 likes his own glass, and takes it. Lord, I don't blame him 
 for that ! But, hang it ! a man that's free with the grog to 
 himself should be free with it, in a general sort of way, to 
 strangers. And there's no denying that Tregaskiss is a 
 
 bit of a screw — a d d sight worse screw than old 
 
 Cyrus Chance, -Tsay, though I know that's not the opinion 
 among sundowners and loafers." 
 
 " Well, times have been bad," replied Ramm, with 
 soothing impartiality, " and carriage is a consideration on 
 an out-station like Wombo. I've sometimes thought it 
 'ud be a pretty calculation to strike a grog average for all 
 hands, according to the rates that the bosses take their 
 nips, and see how many bullock drays would be wanted in 
 the year to fetch the liquor up from here to the Leura. I 
 likes to give folks their due, whether it's Cusack or 
 Tregaskiss." 
 
 " That's true," conceded the postman reflectively, as 
 though the porterage question presented a new view of 
 the subject ; " and if this drought goes on, tilings will get 
 dryer still every day. Bad times aint so much 'count to a 
 
10 MRS. TREGASKIS9. 
 
 boss manager like Cusack of Brinda Plains, who shears his 
 thirty thousand sheep, and has got a southern company at 
 his back. But there's another tune to sing when it's the 
 case of a cattle station, with a debt on it most-like, and tlie 
 meat-preserving places shut up, and no market for fats." 
 
 A gentleman in shirt sleeves and moleskins, with a red 
 silk handkerchief round his waist, interrupted the discus- 
 sion upon Mr, Tregaskiss' character and conditions, by 
 shouting from the veranda of one of the minor public 
 houses a much adjectived adjuration to the postman to 
 stir the chestnut's stumps, and get his bags delivered and 
 the letters sorted, as he — the individual in question — had 
 no intention of wasting any more of his blanked time 
 waiting for up-country mails, but meant to clear out of 
 this brimstoned place as speedily as circumstances would 
 permit. Whereupon Jemmy roared out that he was the 
 servant of the Leichardt's Land Government, and not of 
 any darned flash stockman, and stated explanatorily for 
 tlie benefit of whom it might concern : 
 
 " I'm a bit ahead of my time to-day. The Leura Ter- 
 ror " — flicking the chestnut — " started bucking with me 
 this morning, and I thought, as she was so flash, I'd give 
 her a sickener. She's pretty well knocked out now. But, 
 my word, she did perform this morning ! I borrowed a 
 pair of spurs at Flood's Selection and took it out of her." 
 
 " Oh, that be blowed for one of your yarns. Jemmy ! " 
 cried a second coatless gentleman from one of the other 
 verandas. " I've seen all the bucking the old Terror can 
 do, and it's pretty liarmless. She couldn't kick for sour 
 grapes. Your horses all buck like blazes — when no one is 
 looking." 
 
 Again he received the impeachment with humility. It 
 was not his habit to defend his own statements. He stuck 
 spurs into the chestnut and made for the post office, where 
 a little crowd was already waiting for the soiting and 
 delivery of the mail brought by the incoming train. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 DE. GENESTE. 
 
 Mrs. Teegaskiss, with her children and the half-caste, 
 had gone over to the hotel. She followed the porter up a 
 pair of log steps to that part of the veranda called by 
 courtesy the private entrance. It was, however, only sep- 
 arated by a wooden railing from the other part, outside 
 the public parlour, where the better class of bushmen 
 smoked and drank and surveyed the life of the township. 
 Half a dozen men were there now, lounging on squatter's 
 chairs, with their pipes and newspapers, or else "yarning" 
 together. They looked up and inspected Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 with a good deal of interest, as she paused for a minute on 
 the veranda waiting a response to the poi'ter's call for Mrs. 
 Ruffey, and uncertain as to which of the French windows 
 she should enter by. 
 
 Tliere presently appeared the landlady, in a crumpled, 
 rather soiled China silk dress, wearing many rings, ban- 
 gles, and other miscellaneous jeweller3^ She had the inde- 
 finable stamp of the diggings — the free, saucy, yet rough 
 and ready, self-respecting air of a woman accustomed to 
 dealing over a bar with customers who occasionally re- 
 quired plain speaking, if not even severer correction. A 
 short colloquy took place on the veranda. Mrs. Ruffey 
 cast a sympathetic glance at the baby, and a long look of 
 compassionate curiosity at its mother. Ladies of the type 
 of Mrs. Tregaskiss were not common in Mrs. Ruffe3''s 
 experience. The tall, thin figure, dressed in cool, quiet 
 gray, with a shady hat and veil tied beneath the chin ; the 
 smooth, still, olive face ; the large, grave brown eyes ; 
 2 11 
 
12 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 the almost painfully sweet, fixed smile, a smile so faint 
 as to convey the idea of a studied and exquisite self- 
 repression ; the extreme quietude of the gestures, and the 
 musical voice, with that undei'lying note of passion — all 
 expressed characteristics which seemed to separate Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss absolutely from other squatters' wives of Mrs. 
 Ruffey's acquaintance. The landlady dropped something 
 of her free and easy air as she led them upstairs to a small 
 sitting-room and rather larger bedchamber opening out of 
 it, which, she said, made the only accommodation that 
 could at present be given Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 
 To Clare, in her weariness, the place seemed a haven. 
 
 "It would do very well," she said, " if perhaps a bed 
 could be found elsewhere for the half-caste, Claribel." 
 
 The baby was crying louder now, and Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 took it from the nurse's arms and hushed it against her 
 bosom. " Would Mrs. Ruffey send up some warm water, 
 some tea, a glass of milk for tiie little girl ; and would she 
 have tlie saddle bags brought to them, and inform Mr. 
 Tregaskiss on his arrival where to find her? " 
 
 Mrs. Ruffey departed, followed by the half-caste. The 
 mother unfastened her dress and snckled the infant. 
 Presently its wail ceased, but the sustenance did not seem 
 entirely satisfying, for it twisted about its tiny head, and 
 murmured discontentedly. Mrs. Tregaskiss' form was 
 girlish in its contours. She was not of the type which, 
 bounteously nourishes its young. 
 
 The baby fell asleep, and she sat on in the uncomfort- 
 able armchair, holding it more loosely, and not looking at 
 it. Her thoughts had evidently wandered from the duties 
 of maternity. Her limbs and features relaxed, and the 
 brown eyes stared absently, while the strained smile dropped 
 away, as it were, from her lips, which tightened in an ex- 
 pression that was tragic in its desolation and weariness — 
 weariness not only of the body, but of soul and spirit as well. 
 
 Ning stood at the window watching the unloading of the 
 
DR. GENESTE. 13 
 
 bullock di'ays, and making comments to her doll upon 
 what was going on, in her shrill voice and odd half native 
 vernacular. She turned to her mother : 
 
 " Oh, mummy, look out ! Ning see another little girl, 
 plenty high up on the dvay. She's coming down by a 
 ladder. And there's her mummy, and — oh, there's a baby, 
 too ! They been sit down on top of the wool bales close up 
 under the tarpaulin. Mummy, what for you not let Jo 
 Ramm drive us up to Worabo in his bullock dray. I be 
 very good. I be hudgery altogether." 
 
 Tlien finding that Mrs. Tregaskiss took no notice of her 
 remarks, the child came and stood silently by the arm- 
 chair, for several moments attentively regarding her 
 mother's neck, left bare by the turned back bodice. Slie 
 appeared to be struck by its extreme thinness, and stealing 
 closer, passed her little fingers sympatlietically over the 
 prominent collar-bones and tlie transparent blue-veined flesh. 
 Slie heaved a throaty sigh and made the sort of guttural 
 " Yuck ! " which the black gin gives when troubled or 
 astonished. 
 
 " My word ! " exclaimed Ning, with deep commiseration. 
 " Plenty bone sit down there. Altogether meat run away." 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss burst into a laugh that was almost hys- 
 terical. The words, and the accent with which they were 
 uttered, jarred upon her wandering thoughts, which, by 
 some irrelevant association of ideas, had travelled to a 
 modern " high art " South Kensington studio. She was 
 picturing lier frietid Gladys Warraker, now Hilditch, mak- 
 ing tea among the palms, bulrushes, dilapidated properties, 
 and dingy draperies, which she, Clare, had once revolted 
 from as" stuffy," affected, and sham-aesthetic, but which she 
 now recalled with a faint envy as contrasting pleasantly 
 with the glare and bareness and rough angles of this thirsty, 
 uncivilised land. King's speech accentuated crude realities. 
 She checked her laugh as the babe stirred uneasily upon 
 her lap. 
 
14 MRS. TREGASKI8S. 
 
 " Oil, Ning ! take care not to wake little sister. Ningie 
 has forgotten all mutnmy told lier," she went on, in a low 
 voice. " You know niiimmy said that you weren't to talk 
 blacks' language. You are a little white girl, not a picka- 
 ninny from the camp." 
 
 " C'aribel 'minds Ning of blacks' language," exclaimed 
 the child. " C'aribel says ' budgery ' and ' plenty sit 
 down.' She no good white woman ; she altogether like it 
 black fellow." 
 
 " Not altogether like it black fellow," corrected Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss. " Claribel talks too much like the blacks. 
 That is what Ning means. But Claribel is half white, and 
 will soon learn better. We are going to teach her to live 
 in a house and to talk and do things like white people." 
 
 Niiig shook her head doubtfully. She had no faith in 
 Claribel's regeneration. 
 
 " What for daddy not have white servants like Mr. 
 Cusack ? " she asked. " White servants are much better. 
 Mr^. Cusack has three white women servants at Brinda 
 Plains, and there is a Chinaman for a cook besides. What 
 for, mummy, we no have white women at Wombo, only a 
 Chinaman ?" 
 
 What for ! The contrast between the domestic arrange- 
 ments of Mount Wombo, her own home, and Brinda Plains 
 had often forced itself upon Mrs. Tregaskiss, as it had done 
 upon Ning, though she was not given to petty jealousy. 
 After all, the question was easily answered. 
 
 " Because daddy has lost a great deal of monej^ Ningie, 
 my dear, and because the bank would turn us out of Mount 
 Wombo, and we should be like the blacks, and have no 
 house to live in, if we spent too much moneyin paying 
 servants' wages. Now go again to the window and watch 
 Eamm and the bullock drays until Claribel comes back." 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss got up, careful not to disturb the sleep- 
 ing child, whom she carried into the next room. She 
 placed it on the bed and laid herself down beside it for a 
 
DR. GENESTE. 15 
 
 few minutea, liushing it off into sound asleep before slie 
 dared to remove her arm. The little chamber with its zinc 
 roof and uncurtained windows, through which the sun 
 streamed and tlie noise from the township entered un- 
 miiffled, was horribly glaring and oppressive in the coarse 
 whiteness of mosquito curtains and clieap liglit wall paper. 
 The canvas ceiling, up to which she vacantly stared, was 
 speckled with flies, winged ants, and long-legged curious 
 insects. A spider, as fat and bloated as a tarantula, had 
 drawn its web across one of the corners, and flies buzzed 
 down, making their sickening noise round the sleeping 
 child's face ; they were getting dull and heavy, as flies do 
 in the heavy summer days, and one settled at the corner of 
 the infant's mouth, wet still with its mother's milk. Clare 
 rose and drew down the white blind in an ineffectual 
 attempt to darken the room. The sun, which was setting 
 toward the horizon, threw off reddish gleams from the 
 ii-on roofs of the houses opposite. She looked up the 
 whitey-brown road to see if there was any sign of her 
 husband's buggy, but she saw only another incoming dray, 
 and a rider with a pack-horse moving outward. The great 
 brown plain, with dull patches of lignum vitSB, and salt 
 bush, brown too, and looking like heaps of earth or stones, 
 made her think of the desert as she had seen it once from 
 Biskrali in Algiers, onlj' that there were no palms in the fore- 
 ground. She felt a little faint and dizzy. The heat was 
 like a tangible weight upon her head, and she remembered 
 that she had not eaten much during the jouruej^, and 
 thought tliat she would go into the sitting-room and see 
 if there were a bell by means of which she could hurry 
 Mrs. Ruffey with the tea. Then she almost laughed at 
 herself for imagining that there could be a bell-pull in a 
 zinc bush inn. If there had been one, it would not have 
 made much difference, for she had hardly crossed the 
 threshold of the inner room when a giddiness overpowered 
 her. For an instant, walls and floor swaj-ed, and then 
 
16 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 they settled into blackness, and before she could snatch at 
 anything for support, she had fallen down in a dead swoon. 
 
 Ning uttered an astonished shriek as, at the sound of her 
 mother's fall, she turned from the contemplation of the 
 drays and saw the prostrate form. Tiiere had not hap- 
 pened, in tlie child's experience, such a thing as that a 
 grown-up person should incontinently tumble flat after 
 that fashion. When Mrs. Tregaskiss made no sign nor 
 movement in answer to the child's calls, " Mummy, get up ! 
 — mummy, what for you tumble down ? — mummy, is 'oo 
 dead?" and when the inert hand which she lifted fell 
 back with a thud on the floor, Ning was frightened. She 
 rushed out, down the narrow stairs and into the lower 
 parlour, where the landlady was talking to a tall gentleman 
 who appeared to be paying his bill. 
 
 " 01), please come up and look at mummy ! " she screamed. 
 "Mummy has tumbled down and won't get up. I want to 
 know if mummy is dead." 
 
 "My goodness!" cried the landlady. "Perhaps she 
 has fainted ; and I don't wonder. It's Mrs. Tregaskiss," 
 she explained rapidly to the gentleman; "just come up 
 from Port Victoria. She looked regular done up with the 
 ti'ain journey. Baby not much more than a month old. 
 Will you help me to see to her. Dr. Geneste ?" 
 
 Mrs. Ruffey led the way, the gentleman following with- 
 out question. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, and 
 took Ning's hand. The child was whimpering, "I want 
 to know if mummy is dead." 
 
 " No, no ! don't be friglitened, little woman. Your 
 mother is only tired. I expect she will be all right 
 presently." 
 
 The half-caste, who at the child's call had come in from 
 some back region, caught Ning up in her sturdy arms, say- 
 ing : " Ba'al you cry, pickaninny. That no good," and 
 echoed the doctor's assurance : " Plenty soon missus all 
 right." 
 
DR. GENESTE. 17 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss revived quickly under the ministrations 
 of Mrs. Ruifey and Dr. Geneste. The man was a stranger 
 to her, — he was, as a matter of fact, the new "boss" at 
 Darra-Darra of whom the postman had spoken, — and she 
 stared in bewilderment as she opened her eyes and saw, 
 bending over her, a large spare form, and a face totally 
 unfamiliar — keen, kindly, lined, and of the falcon type. 
 Tiien she became aware of the touch of hands, gentle, 
 steady, and curiously competent, and closed her ej'es again 
 with a sense of relief. She seemed to know intuitively 
 that he was a doctor, and yielded herself without question 
 to his treatment. 
 
 He gave her some brandy and water, which Mrs. Ruffey 
 brought from below. They had lifted her on to the rough 
 sofa, and he raised her head on his arm while she drank. 
 His voice appealed to her pleasantly. 
 
 " I'm afraid it isn't very comfortable ; we'll have some 
 pillows." 
 
 Mrs. Ruffey brought two from the adjoining room. The 
 doctor felt Mrs. Tregaskiss' pulse. 
 
 « That's better." 
 
 She opened her eyes again. 
 
 " I fainted, I suppose. But I'm all right now. I have 
 had one or two of these giddy fits latelj\" 
 
 " Have you ? " He looked at her gravely. " You must 
 have come down pretty suddenly," he said. " Your fall 
 shook the building. I hope you didn't hurt yourself ?" 
 
 She sat up, and put her hand first to her forehead and 
 then to the back of her head. "I think I have given my- 
 self a bump ; but it's nothing of any consequence." 
 
 At that moment the baby in the next room woke and 
 cried. Mrs. Tregaskiss moved quickly, and would have 
 got up from the-sofa, but the doctor motioned her back. 
 
 " No, no, please ; you'll be fainting again. Isn't there 
 someone else who can look after the baby ? " 
 
 " Claribel ! " called Mrs. Tregaskiss, with an effort ; 
 
18 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 and when tlie half-caste appeared, bade her bring in the 
 cliild. 
 
 Dr. Geneste smiled. 
 
 " It's not an appropriate name, exactly," she said, with a 
 wan shadow of his smile, "but Claribel holds to it, and 
 objects to ' Bel.' " 
 
 "They don't make bad nurses," said Dr. Geneste, "if 
 the old Adam doesn't crop up, as in my experience it gener- 
 ally does. Most civilised half-castes I have known took 
 to the bush in the long run." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not ! I am teaching Claribel. I always 
 had an idea that I should like to tame a half-caste. Yes, 
 give baby to me." 
 
 She held out her arms for the infant, which was crying 
 in feeble fretf ulness. It had been awakened by a mosquito 
 that had crept in under the netting. The poor little thing 
 was hot, and wet with perspiration. Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 wiped its head and forehead with her pocket handkerchief, 
 loosened its neck covering, and hushed it against her 
 bosom, with the patient attention she had shown in put- 
 ting it asleep. But the baby cried more loudly, taking no 
 comfort from her ministrations. Mrs. Tregaskiss swayed 
 herself to and fro, in a vain attempt to still its wailing, and 
 then with a despairing gesture handed it to Claribel. 
 
 " I think that perhaps she wants to be walked about. 
 Take her into the next room, and try and make her go 
 bye-bye again." 
 
 Claribel rocked the child in her strong arms, crooned 
 to it a monotonous Corobboree tune, and before many 
 minutes had it sound asleep once more. Dr. Geneste had 
 been silently watching the scene. He noticed the hysteri- 
 cal quiver in Mrs. Tregaskiss' throat, and saw that her 
 nerves were tortured by the heat, glare, noise, and irritat- 
 ing presence of the fretful baby, almost beyond her power 
 of control. 
 
 " I wis!) that you would let me go and find you a 
 
DR. GENESTE. 19 
 
 quiet room to rest in," he siaid ; " or else send the children 
 away." 
 
 " Oh, I can't ! and it doesn't matter. Ning, child, don't 
 you cry too. Mummy is quite well now. Ning is tired 
 and hungry. I am afraid that my fainting fit has made 
 them forget the tea." 
 
 Siie turned courteously to Mrs. Ruffej', who ran out with 
 an exclamation of dismay. 
 
 " I should advise something more sustaining than tea 
 for you," said Dr. Geneste.- " I'll go and forage, if you 
 don't mind, presently. I dare say there's some soup to be 
 had, or one might beat up an egg with brandy. You are 
 exhausted ; your pulse is dreadfully low. May I dose 
 you ? " She looked at him, he fancied, a little doubtfully, 
 and he hastened to add : " Perhaps I ought to apologise for 
 being here. Mrs. Ruffey brought me up when the child 
 ran down and said you had fallen. I really am a doctor, 
 though I have turned squatter these days, and only physic 
 people who can't get anyone else to do it. There is no 
 one else, I believe, here or on the Leura. I assure you 
 that, one way and another, I have a good many patients in 
 my consulting room at the Humpey on Darra-Darra." 
 
 " Darra-Darra ! " 
 
 " We are neighbours, I think. I must have taken pos- 
 session while you have been away at Port Victoria." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I had not heard." 
 
 " My name is Geneste." 
 
 " Geneste ! Oh, yes ! — and you are the explorer ? " 
 
 "I did that trip Gulfwards, if that is what you mean, 
 and opened up a bit of Northern country. It's not a tre- 
 mendous achievement." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know " She seemed able only to speak 
 
 vaguely. " There was a great deal about it, wasn't there, 
 in the papers? And then the Government — I remember 
 hearing it said that the Ministry ought to have made some 
 recognition " 
 
20 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Governments aren't quick at recognition, in that sense. 
 Not that it matters, or that I wanted it. I'm glad to have 
 pioneered for tlie telegraph line, at any rate. Tliat's 
 something for the country. Now I'm a bit crippled, and 
 am going to see what I can get out of Darra-Darra. 
 These long droughts are ruination. I hear your husband 
 is doing a good deal in the way of boring. I should like 
 to talk to him about his artesian wells some time." 
 
 " I hope you will come over and see us at Mount 
 Wombo," she said faintly. 
 
 He saw that she was getting white, and felt the pulse 
 flutter. In a moment he was tlie doctor again. 
 
 " Do you mind my seeing if I can't help j'ou a little ? 
 though, no doubt, your doctor at Port Victoria gave you 
 something for this sort of heart weakness." 
 
 " He did not say that there was anything wrong with 
 my lieart." 
 
 " It's weak, that is all. You are anaemic, and I expect 
 the baby is a little too much for you. How old is it ? " 
 
 " Six weeks. I have not seen Dr. Finley of Port Vic- 
 toria quite lately. He never examined my heart." 
 
 Dr. Geneste asked several questions, and listened for a 
 minute or two with his ear against her chest and side. 
 Presently she explained that she was on her way home, 
 and was expecting Mr. Tregaskiss to meet her that evening. 
 They were to start, she said, for Mount Wombo the next 
 day. 
 
 " You'll i-est a day or two at Brinda Plains, won't you ? " 
 
 " I don't know whether we shall go that way. There 
 are two roads, you know, almost at right angles with this 
 place, and one as short as the other." 
 
 "Yes, I know. I have ridden up that way. Brinda 
 Plains is a comfortable station, and Mrs. Cusack and her 
 daughter are so kind. I thought you would find it a 
 pleasant break in your journey." 
 
 "Yes, it would be a nice break. We don't very often 
 
DR. GENESTE. 21 
 
 go to Brinda Plains ; though Mrs. Cusack, as you say, is 
 so liiiid, and I haven't seen Helen Cusacli for ages — not 
 since slie came back from Melbourne, My husband and 
 Mr. Cusack don't always get on very well, and I can't tell 
 exactly why. Mr. Cusack is rather tiresome in some ways ; 
 and then, when stations adjoin, it is so easy to quarrel 
 about unbranded calves." 
 
 She gave an uncertain little laugh, and he did not pur- 
 sue the subject. The medical conversation was resumed 
 for a few moments, and Dr. Geneste asked permission to 
 send up a reviving mixture — some drops which lie said she 
 ■would find useful in preventing the attacks of faintness, 
 and which he hoped to procure at the store in the town- 
 ship. He supposed there was a place where drugs were to 
 be obtained. 
 
 " I have a regular dispensary at Darra," he said. " You 
 must remember that if you should ever be in need. And 
 it's lucky sometimes for the out-station people that I am 
 bandy. I just managed to save the stockman's wife at 
 Kyabra the other day. She had given herself poison by 
 mistake, instead of to the native dogs." 
 
 Tea came in. It was not an unappetising meal, of fresh 
 scones and new-laid eggs, which Mrs. Tregaskiss declared 
 were all that she could desire. Dr. Geneste helped Ning, 
 and waited upon his patient, whom he would not allow to 
 rise from her sofa. He had all the bushman's ready-handed- 
 ness, and there was just sufficient aloofness in liis frank 
 cordiality to convey a suggestion of deference. It seemed 
 to Mrs. Tregaskiss that his manner was, in some ways, 
 more English than Australian, and she wondered how long 
 he had lived in the wilds. She watched him as he poured 
 out King's cup of milk and spread her scone with butter. 
 His appearance attracted her. He was not a young man : 
 she guessed him to be about forty. He looked extremely 
 tall — his actual height was six feet three ; but, though he 
 had a well-knit frame and broad, muscular shoulders, his 
 
22 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 leanness made him seem even taller. He was lame in one 
 leg, which he dragged stiffly, the result of a spear wound, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss learned later ; and this accident, she also 
 learned, had been the cause of his giving up the more 
 adventurous career. He was brown and weather-beaten, 
 and tlie face was seamed and lined in a manner out of 
 proportion with his years ; but it was an impressive face, 
 full of determination and refinement, and decidedly intel- 
 lectual. The eyes were gray, keen, and rather hard in 
 tlieir normal expression ; but, even in this short interview, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss discovered that they had a way of dilat- 
 ing and softening so suddenly and completely that, for 
 tlie moment, the whole character of the countenance was 
 changed. The features had, too, a peculiarity, not at first 
 noticeable, of assuming a mask-like immobility, the refuge 
 possibly of a nervous temperament afraid of self-betrayal. 
 For the rest. Dr. Geneste's face was more interesting than 
 handsome ; in complexion it was sallow beneath the sun- 
 burn ; the hair was dark brown, and the beard short, silky, 
 and pointed, of a lighter hue. 
 
 When tea was over, he bade Mrs. Tregaskiss good-bye, 
 promising to send her the medicine he had recommended, 
 and regretting tliat he should not see her again for the 
 present, as he was leaving that niglit on his way back to 
 Darra-Darra. 
 
 " Unfortunately I have an appointment at Flood's 
 Selection to-morrow morning," lie said, "with the manager 
 of a meat-preserving establishment, or I should be happy 
 to stay till your husband's arrival on the chance of being 
 useful. But you, as a squatter's wife, Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 no doubt know that butchers and cattle-buyers are just the 
 only people in the world wlio must not be kept waiting." 
 
 Oh, yes ! Mrs. Tregaskiss had learned that lesson ; and 
 so she laughingly assured him. Royalty did not claim 
 greater consideration in England than the Port Victoi-ia 
 butcher and the manager of the meat-preserving establish- 
 
DR. GBNESTE. 23 
 
 ment in Australia. To lier personally, it was a matter of 
 the deepest importance whether or not these personages 
 found her to their liking upon their business visits to Mount 
 Wombo. She often wished that her husband, like Mr. 
 Cusack, owned slieep principally, instead of cattle, since 
 the wool market was independent of butchers. 
 
 " But not of shearers," said Dr. Geneste. " I hear that 
 Mr. Cusack anticipates trouble with the Unionists, as the 
 strikers call themselves, and that there is to be a big fight 
 when shearing time comes on. Well, anyhow, I hope you 
 will get througli your journey all right, Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 and that you will follow my advice now and go straight 
 to bed. I shall take an earljr opportunity of riding over 
 to Mount Wombo to find out how you are and to make 
 your husband's acquaintance." 
 
 She thanked him. " You have been very kind to me," 
 she said. 
 
 Something in the tone of her voice a6Fected him. 
 Although she had only spoken on commonplace matters, 
 and had said little, she had given him the impression of a 
 woman of more than average intellect and of keen sensi- 
 bility. She seemed to him utterly unsuited to her sur- 
 roundings. And yet no word nor look of hers justified 
 the suspicion that she was discontented with her lot. It 
 was her face which was pathetic. It suggested a deep, 
 underlying regret. A vision of it remained with him con- 
 tinuously for some hours. As he rode along in the dusk 
 toward Flood's Selection he was haunted by the delicate 
 aquiline features, the deep brown ej^es, and the patient 
 smiling mouth. She had the expression of one waiting 
 for the answer to some mysterious problem of life, to 
 which she could in her own experience find no clue. 
 
 "That is it," he murmured. "It is the Sphinx look — 
 which has always had the most extraordinary fascination 
 for me." He recalled in imagination the black heads of 
 the exquisite monsters, and of the earlier Pharaohs in the 
 
24 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Egyptian gallery of tlie Bvitisli Museum, -where in his stu- 
 dent days he had been wont to wliile away many an hour. 
 
 At one time, during a certain metaphysical phase, 
 through which imaginative temperaments of a particular 
 caste are bound to pass, he had explained this predilection 
 by the theory of pre-existence. But such speculations are 
 apt to crumble to nothingness under the pressure of every- 
 day facts ; and of late years mysticism of the kind had 
 ceased to have any but a poetic attraction for him. The 
 higher type of man is always more or less dual, and in 
 natures like that of Geneste, the dreamer and the man of 
 action have alternate periods of predominance. 
 
 He mused as he rode along the great plain, its gaunt 
 expanse faintly illuminated by a moon at the third quarter. 
 Tlie orb's chastened splendour seemed to harmonise curi- 
 . ously with the image his mind retained of Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 Geneste's thoughts were sufficiently defined to have been 
 uttered aloud. 
 
 "Yes, it's the look of having wandered out of a far 
 past — a look of expiation. She might be the outcome of 
 an age which has produced all that is most magnificent and 
 most subtle in the world's history. She has the grand 
 simplicity of an absolute superiority ; the unconsciousness 
 of complete dignity. She doesn't know herself why she 
 is an anachronism and an anomaly, but she is both, and 
 that's the pathos of her. Of course she suffers from the 
 jar between her own nature and her surroundings. One 
 realises the suffering in her smile. I have never seen a 
 smile like hers : it gives one the notion of an unspeakable 
 far-awayness. A i-emoteness even from the natural 
 maternal interest. I could make that out from the way in 
 which she handled the baby. But how painstakingly she 
 did it ! Maternity with this woman is a duty, not a pas- 
 sion. But that's a modern characteristic. There's nothing 
 of the human mammal about the complex woman of to-day. 
 She has refined the brute maternal instinct into an Intel- 
 
DR. GENESTE. 25 
 
 lectual obligation — an immense social l•e8ponBibilitJ^" He 
 laughed aloud. " Anyhow, she is an odd study, the modern 
 woman — a queer mixture of sensuousness and cold-blooded- 
 ness ; of idealism and hard and fast logic ; of morbid 
 nerve-tissue and ferocious determination not to knock 
 under. To do anything big in diseases of the nervous 
 system, the physician must attack woman from a new 
 starting point. I'm glad I gave up the business — or 
 rather that the business gave up me. Yet it was intensely 
 interesting. Mrs. Tregaskiss is the type of woman who, 
 under favouring morbid conditions, might develop into 
 one of the revolting tribe — the sort of modern instance I 
 might have expected to see in my Harley Street consult- 
 ing room, seeking ghostly counsel along physiological 
 tracks from the physician-priest of the nineteenth century. 
 She would have been quite harmonious with the European 
 background. But here — set in this primitive barbarism, 
 where all the elemental instincts are rampant, what in the 
 name of Heaven is she going to make of herself and of her 
 life ! " 
 
 Then his thoughts wandered to another woman — one of 
 a very different type. A young girl who suggested only 
 what was limpid, sweet, pastoral, and altogether feminine, 
 with clear gray eyes that had no hint in them of mysterious 
 reincarnation and old-world subtleties : the sort of creature 
 in whom wifehood and maternity would be as natural and 
 beautiful as the opening forth of bud into fragrant blossom. 
 He tliought of the girl with a half impatient regret. 
 
 "It won't do," he said to himself. "It would be just as 
 fatal for her as for me. That kind of thing in a woman 
 never appealed to me, and it's too late to try it now. It 
 wouldn't be fair on her either. I wonder if she thinks any 
 more of that moment's folly. I wonder if she understood. 
 At any rate I'll try to make it all as clear to her as I can 
 without showing mj'self an unutterable cad. I never 
 ouffht to have done it. Poor little Helen 1 " 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNMATED. 
 
 While Dr. Geneste was making liis moonlight joui'iiey, 
 Clare Tregaskiss lay within the mosquito curtains on 
 one of the two beds in her room, her baby by her side. 
 The other bed was still vacant, awaiting her husband. 
 Ning was sleeping on the sofa in the sitting-room, 
 an improvised mosquito curtain protecting her face and 
 chest in, it seemed, but an ineffectual manner, for she 
 stirred and muttered and flung her little arms out from 
 under the sheets in a restless slumber. The door between 
 the two rooms stood open, and the lamp, turned down, cast 
 a blurred glow and gave out a disagreeable smell of bad 
 kerosene. The air in the room was dry and scorching, the 
 zinc roof throwing down heat as though it had been the 
 top of an oven. There were neither shutters nor curtains 
 to the window, and the moon, shining through the thin 
 white calico blind, gave the effect of an opaque illuminated 
 oblong. Myriads of insects were astir, — mosquitoes, cock- 
 chafers, moths, flying ants, and beetles, — all kinds of 
 winged, uncanny things, circling round toward the lighted 
 doorway, and tilling the place with a low roar, which was 
 a sort of accompanituent to the noise of the township, t)ie 
 oaths of bullock-drivers " wetting the wool " after their 
 unloadings, the click of billiard balls, the loud chaff of 
 bushmen and diggers in the hotel verandas, and the sound 
 of the bells hung round the necks of bullocks and horses 
 that were going out to grass. 
 
 As the evening wore on, and the men took in more and 
 
 36 
 
UNMATED. 27 
 
 move liquor, the oatlis and ribald language, distinctly audi- 
 ble through the zinc partitions, became unpleasant heaving 
 for the ears of a refined woman. Clave had tvied in vain to 
 escape from the bvutal sounds, had shut the window to find 
 that this made little diffevence, and that it was impossible 
 to enduve the stifling heat. She was not so hovvified at the 
 bad language as might have been many a woman. She 
 accepted it, as she accepted othev disagveeable conditions 
 of her life and suvvoundings, with a cevtain lofty tolev- 
 ance, mingled witli stoical vesignation. She took refuge 
 in imagination, after a fasliion of her own, and now 
 deafened herself to what she did not wish to hear by re- 
 calling the swing and beat of some orchestral measure, or 
 by a mental phonographic pvoces, reconstructed in fancy 
 the swelling rhythmic measures she had lieavd at a Wagner 
 recital. She was not musical in the technical sense. She 
 could not sing a note, and thougli she had a piano at 
 Mount Wombo she never had time to practise, and her 
 pevfovmance was poor. But she had an almost passiotiate 
 love for deep-sounding complex harmonies. Ovgan vibva- 
 tions stirred her nerves as did nothing else, and of all the 
 pleasures of her old London life, music, whicli she had once 
 thought would be dispensed with most easily, was that for 
 which she now had the strongest craving. 
 
 But the effovt of memory grew irksome ; the unreal 
 sounds died away, and her mind came back to the present. 
 Slie looked down upon her baby. Poor little thing ! She 
 was fond of it, of course ; but why was she not as fond of 
 it as some mothers weve of thciv ofFspving ? Why did it 
 seem to her only a cruelty that it should have been born 
 into a crude, harsh, unsympathetic world, insufficiently 
 equipped for the moral struggle by beneficent hereditary 
 influences ? Why should she, who felt herself unfitted by 
 temperament for the burden of such a responsibilitj', and 
 who had a weary distaste for the whole business of multi- 
 plying her kind, and could see no usefulness in it, have 
 3 
 
28 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 been chosen as the producer of this new atom to swell the 
 generally unsatisfactory human aggregate ? 
 
 The two papaw apple trees growing in front of the 
 hotel imaged on the blind caught her eye. Tliey had 
 straight, spear-like stems and crowns of spiky leaves, which, 
 as a faint wind stirred them, made weird shadows. One 
 wns a male plant, the other a female. She could tell this 
 by the outlines of feathery flowers hanging below the 
 leafy plnme of one, and the grotesque shapes of pendant 
 pumpkin-like fruit on the other. Was there no escape 
 even in vegetable life from the bewildering sex problem? 
 
 She was thinking these thoughts when the clatter of 
 buggy wheels and dull thud of the unshod hoofs of pack- 
 horses sounded up the street, and then stopped in front of 
 the hotel. Presently she heard the voice of her children's 
 father in answer to a shout from one of the bushmen in 
 the inn veranda. 
 
 " Hallo, Tregaskiss ! Tliose horses of yours look pretty 
 well knocked up ! " 
 
 " Yes, confound them ! " 
 
 Tregaskiss had a full, rather loud voice, with the rise 
 and fall of intonation common to Australians, and an im- 
 perious ring in its notes which, according to occasion, 
 might take the form either of boisterous cordiality or of 
 ill-humor. 
 
 " Had the deuce of a business," he went on. " The 
 brutes bolted last night from The Grave — halfway to 
 
 Brinda Plains. It's all that d d Brinda breed. They 
 
 have a trick of making back. But these are slashing 
 mares all the same, as you can see by daylight. I wouldn't 
 wish for better goers. They'd pull a buggy out of 
 anything." 
 
 Clare winced at the expletives. She had risen when 
 tlie buggy stopped, and now sat, a ghostly form wi'apped 
 in a light dressing gown, at the side of the bed. She had 
 not minded the " swear-words," as Ning called them, when 
 
UNMATED. 29 
 
 the bullock-drivers had used them, but she did not like 
 them in her husband's moutli. 
 
 Tregaskiss exclaimed in the tone of irate superiority 
 with which white men often address their black servitors : 
 " Look out there, Tommy George, you infernal idiot ! 
 Haven't you learned yet how to unstrap a pack? Oh! 
 good-evening, Mrs. Ruffey ! Send someone round, will 
 you, if they're not all in bed or drunk ? Has Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss come ? " 
 
 " She's upstairs," announced the landlady. " As for my 
 men being drunk, Mr. Tregaskiss, they keep that for off 
 Sundays. You'll spell the horse a day, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Not I. We clear out to-morrow, and serve the mares 
 right for sweating themselves on the bolt. Let's have a 
 light, Mrs. Ruffey, and show me the way up. Oh, look 
 here ! you may bring me a nip before I go upstairs." 
 
 After a few minutes liis licavy step shook the creaky 
 wooden stair and zinc walls. Mrs. Ruffey had not thought 
 it necessary to ascend. Tregaskiss sliouted down to her : 
 " That's all riglit ! I know where I am. The black boy 
 can bring up my swag. Let me have soraetliingto eat, will 
 you ? And you may as well send me a bottle of whiskey and 
 some cool water, if you've got any." 
 
 He pushed open the door of the sitting-room and turned 
 up the smoking lamp. " Phew ! By Jove, it's hot and 
 beastly smelling ! " He flung wide the ricketty French 
 windows which led out on a narrow balcony. " Where are 
 you, Clare ? Oh, here's the Pickaninny ! " 
 
 Ning — whose pet name for Thyra was a corruption, 
 graduating as " Ningie," of her father's title for her, " The 
 Pickaninny" — had been roused by the noise and the flood of 
 light, and now started from her sofa-bed veiled in mosquito 
 netting, wliich she tore off in a bewildered liaste — an elfish 
 creature, with tangled hair and wide, suddenly awakened 
 eyes. 
 ' " Daddy ! " 
 
30 MRS. TBEGASKISS. 
 
 " Yes, you brat. Give us a hug, Pickaninny. Did I 
 scare you ? Been dreaming, eh ? " 
 
 "Mine been dream about debil-debil," said Ning 
 solemnly, relapsing into her blacks' vernacular. " Mine 
 think it debil-debil get inside me and take me over the 
 paddock fence into his big fire. But the fire went out, 
 and God came and asked me if I was a good girl, and then 
 God took me back to mummy." 
 
 Tregaskiss laughed loudly. " That was a good job, 
 wasn't it ! We don't all get out of debil-debil's clutches 
 so easily. But then we aint all good little girls. Oh, 
 you're a Pickaninny yet, you are ! Daddy's Pickaninny. 
 Come. There now ! a right-down good old hug." 
 
 He caught the child in his arms, mosquito netting and 
 bed-clothes trailing behind her, and smothered her with 
 loud sounding kisses. " Where's your mummy ? " 
 
 " I'm here, Keith." 
 
 Clare stood in the doorway. He took up the lamp, still 
 holding the child and looked at his wife. 
 
 " Good Lord, Clare ! Poor old girl ! You do look like a 
 ghost. Knocked out, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, rather ; we started at four o'clock this morning. 
 It's a dreadfully long, slow journey, stopping at all the little 
 roadside stations. I'm really glad the railway doesn't go 
 any further. I'd much rather travel in the buggy and 
 camp out." ' -• 
 
 "Well, you'll have two nights of that, and I was thinking 
 we might spell a day at Brinda Plains. The Gripper has 
 been behaving a little more decently lately. I helped him 
 with his muster, and I rather want to talk to him about 
 wire-fencing the boundary." 
 
 " Oh ! How have things been getting on, Keith, on the 
 station ? " 
 
 " As bad as can bo. No sign of the drought breaking 
 up, and cattle dying everywhere. There was the devil of 
 a mess driving down the last mob of fats, and a bad sale at 
 
UNMATED. 31 
 
 the encl. Hardly enough to cover droving expenses. I 
 was a fool to agree to Gryce's terms. I told you so at tlie 
 time, you remember, and yon advised me to accept. One 
 hundred pounds down on taking delivery, and fifty pounds 
 a month for droving. It was exorbitant, but you misled 
 me by telling me that was what old Cyrus Cliance paid. I 
 knew what a nipper he is, and that he'd be bound to give 
 the lowest price. It was all an infernal concoction of 
 Cusack's new cliums. The Gripper put them up to getting 
 a rise out of me." 
 
 " Oh, I'm sorry ! But it wasn't from the Cusacks that I 
 heard. Mr. Chance's storekeeper told me those were the 
 terras." 
 
 "Well, it was a lie. Cyrus Chance never paid anything 
 like that. You must have muddled up figui-es. Women 
 always do. I mustn't depend on j'ours for the future. 
 But never mind, old girl. It's a good thing to have you 
 home. Are you glad to get back to your old hubby." 
 
 " I'm — very glad, Keith. Very glad of course, to see you 
 again." 
 
 " And so am I to see you, old dear ! " He put the lamp 
 on the table and still holding Ning, whose head had dropped 
 sleepily on his shoulder, went up to his wife and affection- 
 ately kissed her. "And the Pickaninnj' too ! Good little 
 Kiddie. I declare I think I've missed her almost as much 
 as I've missed you. By Jove, the place has seemed a desert 
 without you both ! " 
 
 "There's a new Pickaninnj'^ now, Keith." 
 
 "By Jove, so there is ! I had forgotten the little shaver 
 for the moment. Let's see him, Clare. No, it's a second 
 she, isn't it? I rather wisli it had been a boy, now, since 
 the two other poor little chaps came to nothing." 
 
 Clare led the way into the bedroom where the baby lay, 
 its little red face nestling into the pillow. Tregaskiss con- 
 templated the creature with an amused interest, much as he 
 might have contemplated a new-born puppy. 
 
32 MRS. TRE6ASKISS. 
 
 "Not a bad little cuss. I suppose it will get wliiter in 
 time. Looks i-atliev like a blob of pink piittj'. Ning was 
 much more human when she was six weeks old." 
 
 " Dai-k babies always ave. This one will be fair, like 
 you. Ning took after me." 
 
 Tregaskiss turned liis eyes upon his wife with a freshly 
 kindled gleam of admiration. "So much the better for 
 Ning, as she is a woman. Now, if this brat had been a boy 
 it might have taken after me and been a fairly decent look- 
 ing chap, on a large scale into the bargain." 
 
 He gave the little fatuous laugh of self-satisfaction 
 which was a trick of his, atid which always jarred upon 
 Clare. It was one of Tregaskiss' weaknesses to be somewhat 
 vain of his strength and robust good looks. He might in 
 trutli have been considered a handsome man, of the coarser 
 mould. Ten years ago, before his features had thickened 
 and his skin had become led and rough -grained, and when 
 he had been less inclined to stoutness, there could have been 
 no doubt as to the attractiveness of his person. One might 
 have imagined a woman very much in love with him — but 
 not a woman quite of the type of Mrs. Tregaskiss. Some 
 little frail amiable doll perhaps, without much intellect, 
 and the kind of temperament which is naturally subservient 
 to brute force. Tregaskiss was fashioned rather upon tiie 
 Viking model. He was huge — as tall as Dr. Geneste, and 
 much broader and thicker of girth. In spite of tlie active 
 life he led, his weight could not have been less than four- 
 teen or fifteen stone. He had a great bull neck, and a large 
 head, with close cropped yellow hair, which fell into little 
 rings over a round low forehead. The eyes were bright 
 blue, slightly bloodshot, the nose well-shaped, but broad at 
 the bridge, and with t\po small furrows on each side mark- 
 ing a pufRness between the ej'e-sockets and the mouth, 
 which gave an appearance of coarseness. He had even 
 teeth, discoloured by smoking, a yellow moustache with- 
 long points, and a curly fair beard — the kind of beard 
 
UNMATED. 33 
 
 wliicl) divides in the middle and shows the cleft of chin. 
 Althougli he was proud of being a "fine man," he was 
 careless about his dress. To-night lie looked disordered 
 after his journey, — which was not to be wondered at, — hot, 
 dusty, and redder than usual ; his light alpaca coat had 
 stains upon it, and his coloured shirt was unbuttoned at the 
 neck, showing the inside griminess of tlie collar, and beads 
 of perspiration stood upon his forehead and his great red 
 liands. 
 
 Clare stiffened just a little as he put his arm round her 
 and drew her closer to him, in their joint gaze at their 
 child. The harsh, virile odour whicli came from him, and 
 seemed to tell of the night's camping out and the day's 
 travel in close proximity with hot beasts, mingled with an 
 avonia of tobacco and of the whiskey he had recently 
 imbibed, struck unpleasantly upon her nerves. She was a 
 woman extremely fastidious in such trifles, and had an 
 almost sensuous delight in delicate fresh scents. One of 
 the things which went far toward reconciling her to life 
 on Mou!it Wombo was the perfume of the sandal- wood 
 logs, which she kept for burning in the sitting-room in the 
 winter. 
 
 But something of the same conscientious self-discipline 
 which marked her manner to her children, showed itself 
 in lier bearing to her husband. She seemed to become 
 instantly alive to the impulse of repugnance in herself, and 
 atoned for it by laying her hand caressingly upon his 
 shoulder; and thus together they contemplated the sleep- 
 ing infant for a moment or two in silence. Then she with- 
 drew her hand and disengaged herself gently from his 
 embrace. 
 
 "Yes, I wish too that she had'been a boj'. Not exactly 
 for your reason, though." 
 
 " For what reason, then ? " 
 
 "Oh, because I think women have the worst of it in the 
 world — at any rate in the bush." 
 
34 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 "I don't see that. Things are always made as easy for 
 you as they can be up here. Of course the life's rough, 
 but if it is so for women, it's rougher still for men. You 
 can keep in doors if yon choose. But how would you like 
 droving cattle across country with rations running short, 
 and the water-bags getting empty ? And I wonder if you'd 
 enjoy a day after scrubbers through gidia and buirum 
 busli, or else drafting off a camp in the blazing sun and 
 branding till sundown, and then coming home dog-tired to 
 salt junk and damper — and all the worry of the men, and 
 bad sales, and drought, and a big debt, with the chance of 
 the bank coming down on 5'ou into the bargain ? " 
 
 " It seems to me that we women have our share of those 
 worries too," said Clare. " As for the station work, I used 
 rather to envy j'ou men the wild free rides and the living 
 with nature and the grandness and reality of it all. Do 
 you remember, I had a perfect crave for out-of-door life 
 long ago — after the hollowness and insincerity and stuffi- 
 ness of London. I used to fancy then that it must make 
 people truer and better and purer. You know I loved an 
 easy day on the run, before the babies came, and when I 
 was strong, and not the poor creature I seem to have 
 grown into." 
 
 "An easy day!" echoed Tregaskiss. "A kid-glove 
 kind of mustering in cool weather, just outside the paddock 
 fences, and the men blessing you all the time because they 
 daren't let out an oath. I think you found it a bit too 
 real sometimes, Clare, and you got deuced sulky when I 
 swore at you for getting in the way. You expected me to 
 keep up honeymoon manners, but I've broken j^ou in, 
 haven't I, and we're none the less good friends for it ? " 
 
 " No, none the less good friends, Keith," she repeated, 
 with that curious smile. " But that wasn't what I meant 
 when I wished that baby had been a boy." 
 
 " Wliat did you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, men get rid of their illusions quicker," she an- 
 
UNMATED. 35 
 
 swered. " Or else they never grow them, which is better 
 still — at least I suppose it is better, if the illusions are 
 bound to wither before the morning has become daj'. 
 Women are so helpless," she went on, her voice taking a 
 deeper inflexion, " so blind, so ignorant, so hedged in. 
 They can't go into the open and judge of things as men 
 do. Tiiey can't even judge of tliemselves. They don't 
 know what they are capable of or deficient in. They don't 
 know what tliey want." 
 
 "Well, most of them seem to know that they want a 
 husband," said Tregaskiss with a laugh. "And after all, 
 Clare, a woman can't do much better than that — if she gets 
 a good one ; and a man can't be better off than with a 
 good wife." 
 
 There was genuine feeling in Iiis tone ; it touclied Clare. 
 
 "No, Keith, I suppose there can't be anything better in 
 the world than a happy marriage. But people's ideas of 
 happiness and of love are different, aren't thej' ? and 
 women have dreams and wayward fancies. In the end we 
 settle down to doing our duty, and we find satisfaction in 
 it, but in the beginning, when we are young and romantic, 
 and long for drama and thrill and communion of mind and 
 the poetry of love, and all the rest ! That's how it's hard 
 for women — for some women. They've got to grind down 
 the edge of their imagination, and to pull their ideals to 
 pieces, and to scatter in fragments all their fond and foolish 
 beliefs, and it — it's a painful process, Keith, and I'd rather 
 not have to watch a daughter of mine going through it." 
 
 Tregaskiss looked at her, at once annoyed, uneasy, and 
 amused. " Oh, confound ideals ! That used to be a great 
 word of yours, Clare. I thought I had laughed you out of 
 it, tliough, upon my soul, I never did quite know what you 
 meant by it ! I hate hearing yon talk like that. It makes 
 me think of those long-haired South Kensington painters 
 and the ladies in queer dresses with notions, that you used 
 to tell me you were so sick of. Besides, it puts it into my 
 
36 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 head tliat you aren't liappy, and that isn't true. Anyhow, 
 you alwaj's say that you are happy enough." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Keith, don't mind ! Of course I am happy 
 enougli." 
 
 "Ideals! "he went on wrathfuUy; "poetry, sentiment, 
 the sort of stuff you read in novels. Fine words and in- 
 fernal tommy-rot, as I always said to you, dear. They 
 don't breed out West." 
 
 " No, yon laughed me out of my fancy that ideals might 
 exist in the bush. That's one of the vanished illusions. 
 They don't seem to fraternise with sheep and cattle — in 
 this part of Leicliardt's Land." 
 
 " Do you think they thrived any better on Ubi Downs 
 where you came from ? " 
 
 "I don't know. I suppose liot. I was only ten years 
 old, you know, when I left it. And yet," she went on 
 dreaniilj', " I Icept a vision of Ubi Downs all those years, 
 as of a sort of Promised Land — the mountains and the 
 strange sunsets and the river and the great bnnj'a scrubs. 
 The Erl King and Sintram and Undine lived in that bunya 
 scrub and the creek that came down from the gorge. I 
 can remember it quite well." 
 
 " And you married me because you thought I was 
 going to bring you to your Promised Land, was 
 that it?" 
 
 " Perhaps it was — a little, Keith." 
 
 "Good Lord, Clare! j^ou are childish with your Erl King 
 and your fairj'-tale people. I suppose they are in a fairy- 
 tale. Znever heard of them anywhere else. What has 
 come over you to-night ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Keith. One gets thinking, lying awake 
 in the moonlight." 
 
 " Tliinking ! Wliat about ? " 
 
 " Oh, about ideals, and drama, and thrill, and different 
 kinds of love — everything that makes the poetry of life. 
 But I quite agree with you : it's stupid to talk of them, 
 
UNMATED. 37 
 
 and Gladys Wavraker and I agreed long ago not to expect 
 tbein in the ordinary run of tilings." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, I thought you had dropped all such 
 rubbish since you came here. Ideals, drama, and thrill, 
 and different kinds of love ! " he repeated, with bluff 
 scorn. " By Jove ! do you remember our sitting by the 
 waterhole at Wombo, soon after we came up, and your 
 reading to me something by some German chap, and ask- 
 ing me if that was how I loved you, and your disgust when 
 I told you it was all rot ? " 
 
 Clare gave a slight shudder, and then laughed, an odd, 
 nervous laugh. " Yes, you have taught me that." 
 
 " I have made you practical, my dear. Upon my soul ! 
 if it hadn't been for having married me, you'd be lost in 
 the clouds by now. I've brought you down to earth — I 
 and the children." 
 
 " Yes," she again assented ; " you and the children. 
 One can't be anything but practical when there are babies 
 crying around, and only a half-caste or a black gin to look 
 after them." 
 
 " Well, that's your own fault, Clare. I said you could 
 get a nurse out of one of the emigrant ships at Port 
 Victoria." 
 
 " Oh, she wouldn't have stayed ! She would have com- 
 plained that it was too rough, or too dull, or else the 
 mosquitoes and sandflies would have eaten her up. And 
 I'm so anxious to get that wretched debt cleared off. I 
 don't want to add to expenses, especially as I brought you 
 nothing. That's being practical, isn't it? " 
 
 " You're a splendid old dear! I'm bound to say that 
 there's not another woman I know, brought up like j'ou, 
 that would work in the same way to keep things together. 
 As for the debt, if I could get a couple of good seasons 
 and a market for fat cattle, I'd soon clear it off, and 
 we'd take a trip home, and then settle down on your 
 beloved Ubi, in the heart of civilisation. Confound that 
 
38 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 woman ! when is she going to send me up something 
 to eat ? " 
 
 He went noisily to the staircase and called down. After 
 a few minutes a young woman, who had been serving at 
 the bar, brought in a tray with cold beef and bread and a 
 bottle of whiskey. Tregaskiss tlirew ofE his coat, poured 
 himself out some whiskey and water, and called to his 
 wife to come in and " yarn." She obeyed the peremptory 
 call without a murmur, though she had lain down again 
 upon the bed beside the baby, and was, in truth, almost 
 worn out. She waited upon her husband while he made a 
 hearty meal, and chatted cheerfully upon Leura concerns 
 the while, having, it appeared, quite recovered from her 
 sentimental mood. They talked about the delinquencies 
 of the " Gripper," otherwise Mr. Cusack ; the new boun- 
 dary between Wombo and Brinda Plains ; the surveyors 
 to be employed ; the stockkeeping capacity of a " new 
 chum " lately installed at Mount Wombo ; the number of 
 the last branding. It was not till Tregaskiss had lighted his 
 pipe and tilted back his chair that he was struck for the 
 second time by his wife's wan looks, and again declared 
 that she looked like a ghost. He insisted upon giving her 
 some weak whiskey and water, and expressed compunction 
 for having kept her up, fussing over her in a man-like, 
 unhelpful manner, which at intervals took the form of 
 scolding. Why didn't she look after herself better ? 
 What was the use of leaving Port Victoria before she was 
 quite strong ? Why would she nurse the baby when she 
 knew that she wasn't fit for it? On the last point he 
 waxed persistently wrathful. 
 
 " I wanted to," pleaded Clare. " I think — I have read 
 that mothers always care more for the children they nurse 
 themselves. It's an outlet for " She stopped. 
 
 "An outlet for what?" 
 
 " For the foolish fancies, perhaps, that you have been 
 scolding me for." 
 
UNMA.TED. 39 
 
 " What has put the notion into your head ? " asked 
 Tregaskiss. " You know that the child drags you to 
 pieces." 
 
 " I didn't nurse tlie other two," she said, in a low voice, 
 " and they died ; and I don't think I was half sorry 
 enough — poor little things ! " 
 
 Tregaskiss was silent. " That's nonsense ! " he said 
 presently. "They wouldn't have lived, anyhow, and this 
 one is much more likely to thrive on good cow's milk. I'll 
 have a milker kept apart." And then he went on : " You 
 talk of expenses, and you know it means gallons of bot- 
 tled stout, or you can't get on at all. Not that I grudge 
 it," he added hastily, smitten by an expression which 
 crossed Clare's face, " but goodness knows how long the 
 drays will be getting it up. That's what I meant." 
 
 But she had been moved many times to a half-amused 
 scorn, or pitiful tolerance, by the exhibition of a curious 
 strain of meanness in Tregaskiss' character. This was all 
 the more strange because it was allied in a certain sense to 
 boisterous good-nature. In some matters Tregaskiss was 
 open-handed and even extravagant ; it was quite certain 
 also that he would not have grudged his wife anything 
 that he seriously believed would contribute to her health 
 or comfort, and yet in such small, odd ways he was 
 penurious. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE STOEY OP CLARE GAEDTNB. 
 
 Clake Teegaskiss did not love lier husband. There 
 are millions of women in like state to whom such a condi- 
 tion of things presents no insuperable barrier to content, 
 or even to happiness. But Clare was not one of these. 
 Slie liad not the disposition to be satisfied with cora- 
 pioraises. 
 
 To her, life without sj'mpathy seemed poisoned at its 
 source. All she did, thought, and said was robbed of 
 savour and spontaneity. She suffered the pain of a keenly 
 sensitive, emotional, and intellectual woman imprisoned, 
 as within brick walls, by limitations of circumstance. 
 Worst of all she suffered from a dense and stifling mate- 
 rialism — the temperament with which she was mated. 
 
 Existence was for her an unfulfilled yearning. Beneath 
 her still, chiselled features, her faint abstracted smile, her 
 painstaking interest in the prosaic details of a squatter's 
 vocation, her scrupulous attention to the duties of her 
 position, her quiet manner and feminine submissiveness to 
 the inevitable, there pulsed a hidden current of passionate 
 feeling : of indignant protest, of unexplainable aversions, 
 impulses, desires, wliicli at times frightened her by their 
 intensity. She did her very best to quell them and to 
 compress her aspirations within the scope of her everyday 
 life, but it was of little use. She ached with an immense 
 craving — an ache insistent and unbearable almost as that 
 of bodily starvation. And in truth, on the psychological 
 side of things, there is a hunger of mind, of heart, and of 
 
 40 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDTNE. 41 
 
 spirit, quite as wasting, and quite as imperious in its de- 
 mands, as the physical need of meat and bread. 
 
 Why had she married Mr. Tregaskiss ? Oh, fool, fool, 
 fool ! This she said to herself over and over again in her 
 fiercest and most secret moods of revolt. But the rec- 
 ognition of her folly did not alter the irrevocable and dis- 
 astrous fact that she was Keith Tregaskiss' wife and the 
 mother of his children. How she had brought herself to 
 perpetrate the folly was as great a mystery to herself as 
 it became a little while later to Dr. Geneste. 
 
 In the chain of circumstances, she had been led to the 
 marriage by perhaps the only concatenation of influences 
 of which it could rationally have been the outcome. Clare 
 Gardyne was the only child of a man who, for a very 
 short time, had blazed as a minor comet in the system of 
 Australian finance. He had .been in the first instance a 
 sheep-owner on the Ubi Downs, where Clare had been born 
 and where her mother had died. The child had been 
 about six years old when she was left motherless, and at 
 this time Mr. Gardyne sold his station, realised a moderate 
 fortune, and took his little girl to England. Tiiere he 
 made arrangements for her education. He spent the 
 twelve years whicii this occupied mainly in Australia, 
 where he entered political life, started a great meat preserv- 
 ing establishment, and made for himself a not altogether un- 
 tarnished reputation as a supposed millionaire and juggler 
 in company promoting, and in the transaction of an im- 
 portant loan to the Leichardt's Land Government. Finally 
 lie accepted the appointment of agent-general for the 
 colony, and settled in London in a big house in Queen's 
 Gate, with his hatidsome daughter to act as its mistress, and 
 as hostess at the numerous entertainments by means of 
 which he floated himself in a certain sphere of society. 
 
 Meanwhile Clare Gardyne had been brought up perhaps 
 not altogether in the most judicious manner for a nature 
 so wilful, impulsive, reserved, and ihipatient of shams and 
 
42 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 of control. Her only relatives in England were a sister 
 and brother-in-law of her father's, and from the beginning 
 Clare had entertained for her uncle and aunt the strongest 
 antipathy. Tliey belonged to a class which she imagined 
 beneath her own, and wliich was, at any rate, utterly op- 
 posed to all the traditions of her early Australian associa- 
 tions — for which she had retained an almost passionate 
 tenderness. Mr. Marrable owned a shoe factory in a Mid- 
 land town. He was a Dissenter, and Mrs. Marrable was 
 not visited by any lady of higher social grade than the 
 wife of the lawyer, the doctor, and occasionally the 
 vicaress of the parish. Yet she had kept an almost 
 sycophantic awe of the great, and her main ambition was 
 to be genteel. The Marrables' way of living and thinking 
 were of the narrowest, dullest, and most provincial. They 
 occupied a two-storied, bow-windowed house of the 
 suburban pattern, in the new road where the principal 
 townsfolk and better-class tradesmen had detached resi- 
 dences. The house had a few shrubs, a miniature rockery, 
 and an oval flower bed in front, and at the back a ten- 
 nis ground enclosed by a brick wall, and some neatly 
 trimmed shrubs. Clare remembered the wild beauty and 
 expanse of the Ubi Downs, the breezy freedom, the absence 
 of social barriers, the chivalrous deference of the station 
 hands, among whom, even at six years old, she had been a 
 little queen. From these idealised recollections she con- 
 structed a visionary republic of light and sincere living, and 
 rebelled against the Marrable restraints. She spent three 
 summer holidays with her relations, then wrote to her 
 father requesting permission to remain at school or to accept 
 invitations elsewhere — a permission he readily granted, for 
 he had ambitions which did not embrace the Marrable 
 connections, and, in truth, cared very little what his 
 daughter did as long as she got into no scrapes and was 
 decently educated. He therefore never opposed any 
 scheme of hers which did not appear to him unreasonable. 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDYNE. 43 
 
 Besides, be had his own affairs to think about. When 
 Clare was sixteen she conceived a vague enthusiasm for 
 the artistic life, and went to live in Kensington, in the re- 
 moter quarters, where she boarded with tlie family of one 
 of her school-fellows. Tlie father of her school-fellow 
 was a dramatic critic on tlie staff of one or two small 
 papers, and the mother called herself an artist, and bad a 
 class of yonng-Iady students in her studio, to whom she 
 imparted instruction on impressionist methods. Tlie 
 eldest daughter did a small trade in casting horoscopes 
 and delineating character from handwriting; and of the 
 younger daugliters, one was an actress, low in the scale, 
 one studied music, and one was beautiful, ambitious, origi- 
 nal, and vague both in her views and occupations. 
 
 The first three had great theories, talked much, and 
 were generally unkempt, slip-slod, enthusiastic, and inac- 
 curate in accounts. Clare, at the first blush, had been fasci- 
 nated at the idea of women breaking loose from conven- 
 tions, had taken in greedily all the fine talk, had believed 
 in the unappreciated geniuses and the jargon of idealism, 
 had considered the whole thing very intellectual, mystic, 
 original, and elevating. She had a notion that she was 
 going to lead the higher life, and for a time muddled 
 away at her paints — she had a failing for colour — with the 
 utmost satisfaction. She would not allow herself to 
 realise that she had no talent, not even the most rudi- 
 mentary knowledge of anatomy or perspective, and was 
 readily persuaded that she might become the leader of 
 , a movement and the pioneer of advanced womanhood. 
 Slie had always maintained that women were down-trodden 
 and the victims of an hereditary tendency to insincerity, 
 for the reason that they had never been able to get their 
 own way except by wheedling the men. At this period — 
 she was going on for eighteen — she had an intense scorn 
 for matrimony, and had never seen the man who could 
 raise her opinion of the sex. This was to the credit of her 
 
44 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 discrimation, for certainly slie saw but poor specimens at 
 tlie Warrakers. All her emotional force was expended on 
 abstract enthusiasms and upon lier friendship for Gladys 
 Warraker, the only one of the sisters who ])ad no profes- 
 sion, and yet who managed to do everything better than 
 any of the others. Gladys, tiiough she was intensely 
 artistic in appearance and nature, kept an attitude of cynical 
 superiority to all artistic fads, and openly scorned the 
 deceptions which the others glossed over by tall talk. She 
 also frankly declared her intention of making a worldly 
 marriage, if the sacramental marriage did not come in her 
 way. This was the point upon which Gladys and Clare 
 were totally disagreed, and many was the tussle they had 
 on the subject. On one point, however, they were in 
 accord. They were each solemnly convinced that the 
 sacramental marriage did exist, only Glad3's held that it 
 was irreconcilable with the exigencies of the modern 
 social system. To both girls love was a mystery, as holy 
 and as impossible of frivolous discussion as the mystery 
 of the Eucharist. Gladys was a Catholic ; Clare, having 
 begun doubt with "The Old Red Sandstone," and having 
 wandered on by way of Spencer, Frederic Harrison, 
 Kenan's " Vie de Jesus," and Matthew Arnold's "Literature 
 and Dogma," through a phase of tempered agnosticism, 
 was also a somewhat lukewarm votary of the older faith. 
 GladjJ^s accepted the sacramental theory in hope, but was 
 quite ready to resign it as a practical reality at the age of 
 twenty-one, and to do her duty on the material matri- 
 monial plane if the spiritual joys of conjugal life were, 
 denied her. Gladys had plenty of common sense ; in this 
 lay her influence over Clare, who was the oddest mixture 
 of romance, sentiment, reserve, as regarded her inner life, 
 and flinty determination to look facts in the face and keep 
 straight at all hazards. It was Gladys who kept Clare at 
 the Warrakers, for she was not many months in discover- 
 ing that the shifty standards of the rest of the family did 
 
THE STORY OP CLARE GARDYNE. 45 
 
 not coincide with her own lofty ideals. She was too 
 innately truthful not to see for heiself that their art was 
 only a flimsy pretence, and tlieir impressionism an excuse 
 for slurring honest labour. Had she possessed any real gift 
 she would have gone off on another track, but she was 
 candid enougli, after a time, to recognise the fact that slie 
 had no gift. She had a brief re-action in the shape of 
 slumming, which, however, did not outlast the discovery 
 of an obnoxious insect upon her clothing after an after- 
 noon among the bandbox makers. She began then to 
 long for some solid social sphere between Bohemiauism 
 and squalor and vice. She took a disgust to the queer 
 clairvoyants and mediums and professional fortune-tellers 
 whom the astrological daughter collected, the out-of- 
 elbows literary persons and the dreamy artists, given to 
 ideas and methods that never came to anythuig, who 
 frequented the Warraker studio. She absolutely longed 
 for a respectability which might be of any type provided 
 it was not that of the Marrables', whom she never saw nowa- 
 days. Siie used to watch the carriages in the Park, when 
 she and Gladys made excursions into that fashionable 
 region, and would dream of a sphere in which influence, 
 enthusiasm, and sincerity might be combined with refine- 
 ment and the possession of an income. She then began 
 to think that Gladys might have reason in her views, 
 and that it might be better to marry some well inten- 
 tioned and fairly well-off young man of birth, than to 
 wait for the one and only affinity whom a perverse fate 
 might have located at the other end of the globe. Of 
 course she and Gladys were of the opinion that love in its 
 strict essence was only possible in the event of a falling 
 in with that pre-ordained mate, and the malignant con- 
 trariety of the Higher Powers, in so invariably separating 
 the twin souls, seemed to them a problem of the universe 
 on a par with that of the existence of evil. Gladys had 
 a theory, that the allegory of Eve and the apple was a 
 
46 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 veiled version of the original mistake in tliis matter of 
 pairing, wliich had set the whole machinery out of gear. 
 
 Clare knew very little about her father's affairs, and as 
 her allowance had never been munificent, and as in his 
 infrequent letters lie had generally spoken of being har- 
 assed over money matters, she had come to the conclusion 
 that he was comparatively a poor man. She knew that 
 Australia was supposed to be passing through a cycle of 
 bad years, and imagined that her father was probably suf- 
 fering therefrom. She very seldom saw liim ; he was 
 little more than a name to her. When, during his short 
 visits to England, he did run down to Brighton, where she 
 had been at school, it was only on a hurried visit, and he 
 had always seemed oppressed with business, and but per- 
 functorily interested in her welfare. He had not been to 
 Europeiisince her installment at the Warraker's, till upon 
 his appointment as agent-general he had come to take her 
 "home." That meant to the house in Queen's Gate, which 
 he had rented furnished from a stock-broker under a 
 cloud, and who was forced to retire for a time to the 
 Continent, and of which he informed her she was to be 
 the nominal mistress. He had already engaged a house- 
 keeper companion, inoffensive and without pretension, who 
 was equally ready to efface herself or to act as Clare's 
 chaperon in the absence of Mr. Gardyne. 
 
 Clare was bewildered. The Queen's Gate house appeared 
 to her a palace. The servants in liverj^^ the carriages, tlie 
 whole style of living, in curious contrast with that of the 
 Warraker's happy-go-lucky establishment, gave her a thrill 
 of power and consequence. She was astonished to find 
 that her father had the reputation of being immensely 
 wealthy, and that in a certain section of London society he 
 was considered a person of importance. She fancied that 
 at last her ambition was to be realised, and that she had 
 gained the vantage point for which she had so feverishly 
 longed, from which she might have an outlook upon the 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDYNE. 47 
 
 world and choose the position best suited to her tempera- 
 ineiit and capabilities. Slie was only eighteen, and she had 
 all the ignorant self-confidence of the young, clever girl, 
 with a vast amount of emotional steam to let forth, and a 
 very definite reserve force of character underneath. One 
 thing she was almost certain of. Gladys was right ; and 
 it was of no use waiting for the Holy Grail — the divine 
 mysteiy of love — to be revealed to her in this rush and 
 hurry of everyday life. Better marry for position and 
 influence and opportunity of tasting the sweets of human 
 drama, and enshrine her ideal in an inner holy of holies — a 
 standard probably as unrealisahle in the practical sense as 
 the typical Christian standard is unrealisable under present- 
 day conventions, but with which her life must be better 
 and purer, just as the world must be better for an example 
 of strict morality, however impossible of actual attain- 
 ment ! 
 
 And then her father was always impressing upon her 
 that she might not continue always to enjoy these advan- 
 tages ; tliat his life was uncertain, his income, notwith- 
 standing the extravagant reports which he encouraged 
 concerning it, precarious ; that, in short, it would be well 
 for her to secure herself by a good marriage against the 
 caprices of Fate. 
 
 For two seasons she sailed upon a sunlit stream of 
 pleasure. She was presented at one of the Drawing-rooms 
 by the wife of the Secretary of State for the Colonies, and 
 was asked out a good deal, going with her father to the 
 formal receptions of those smart ladies whose husbands or 
 connections were interested in tlie financial or political 
 affairs of Australia, and to the houses of less fashionable 
 people of different grades of importance, from colonial 
 magnates in London to City people with whom her father 
 appeared to be on terms of business intimacy. The smart 
 entertainments, as far as her personal part in them went, she 
 found dull ; but interesting to watch, because of the glitter 
 
48 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 of diamonds and orders, and tlie glimpses thej' gave her of 
 a sphere to which, she was shrewd enough to see, she was 
 only admitted on the baldest sufferance. The other par- 
 ties were more amusing, because at them she found herself 
 less of a nobody, but at the same time her very success 
 jarred against the searching and inflexible candour of her 
 nature, which made her intolerant, almost to loathing, of 
 what was false and meretricious. She began to see that 
 she was souglit after because she was believed to be an 
 heiress, and she saw also that those higher in the social 
 scale despised her father and herself, and were agreeable 
 only in proportion with what they expected to get out of 
 them ; while those lower down fawned upon her for the 
 sake of obtaining a lever to a higher stratum. She dis- 
 cussed the situation with Gladys Warraker, who in her 
 way was as clear-headed, but much less romantic, and they 
 agreed that society was pharisaical and self-seeking, and 
 that to find sincerity one must eitlier command or disown 
 it. Then in such moods Clare would turn in imagination, 
 as the hart to the water brooks, toward the picture memory 
 gave of the untainted freshness of the New World, and 
 would tell herself that there all men were chivalrous, all 
 motives pure ; tliat in the free forest, amid the healthful 
 influence of nature, communities must be exempt fi-om 
 mean striving, paltry affectation, and the mental obliquity 
 which can see no distinction between truth and seeming. 
 After all, the more solid, brilliant, — in the matter of dia- 
 monds, and silver, and gold plate, — and Philistine Queen's 
 Gate circle was only an outstretching of the small, shifty, 
 sestlietic West Kensington sphere : and beyond there was 
 always the larger truth, the unattainable. 
 
 So things went on. Mr. Gardyne looked haggard and 
 worried, and it seemed to Clare that at the numerous ban- 
 quets in Queen's Gate an invisible spectre of Care sat at 
 the board between her father and herself. Then Mr. Gar- 
 dyne suddenly resigned his appointment as agent-general. 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDYNE. 49 
 
 Tlie colonial magnates dropped off in an unaccountable 
 way from Clare's visiting list, and the financial element 
 and a certain seedy, rakish-looking tj'pe of aristocracy came 
 more into evidence. It was then tliat a greater ostenta- 
 tion than at first marked the conduct of the establishment, 
 and also of Mr. Gardyne's speech and bearing. He boasted 
 of his wealth with an openness that made his daughter 
 wince, dispensed patronage with a lofty air, and took to 
 taking more wine at dinner tlian was quite compatible 
 with a discreet demeanour. It was at this time tliat tlie 
 two men who were instrumental in turning the current of 
 Clare Gardyne's destiny came prominently forward among 
 lier acquaintances. One of these was Keith Tregaskiss, 
 the man slie afterward married ; the other was Sir Walter 
 Cliisholm, to whom she became engaged a few weeks after 
 her first introduction to Mr. Tregaskiss. 
 
 The two men were a distinct contrast to each other. 
 Sir Walter was young ; he was in a cavalry regiment ; he 
 was good-looking, and be was supposed to be clever. In his 
 way he was rather a dilettante, had written some odd, flip- 
 pant, paradoxical essays on modern culture, and had iiad a 
 play — which only ran a fortnight — produced at one of the 
 leading London theatres. He was certainly agreeable ; his 
 reputation was no more tarnished than that of many a rather 
 fast London man ; and the stories circulated about him weie 
 not of the kind which come to the ears of a young girl out 
 of society. Had he kept a cleaner record, his chances of 
 securing an eligible wife " in societj' " would probably 
 have been greater. As it was, his hunting-ground was 
 among the outsiders. Two reasons contributed to turn 
 him in the direction of matrimony. One was that he was 
 very poor, and the other that he was considerably under 
 the thumb of his mother, who was determined that he 
 should marry an heiress and redeem the family property 
 and the family name. 
 
 He had met Miss Gardyne at the house of a fashionable 
 
50 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 lady, wliose husband was on a board of directors of which 
 Mr. Gardyne was a member, and who was also nibbling at 
 a company Mr. Gardyne was floating, unwilling to com- 
 promise himself till quite assured of the soundness of the 
 venture. Sir Walter was struck by Clare's beauty. He 
 was told that she was an heiress, and Australian fortunes 
 being always a more or less floating quantitj', hers was 
 given the full benefit of supposition. Gardyne was reputed 
 a millionaire. Lady Chisholm set herself to verify the 
 rumour, and succeeded in a sufficiently satisfactory man- 
 ner to warrant her in calling upon Miss Gardyne. Sir 
 Walter did not let the grass grow under his feet ; more- 
 over, he was genuinely attracted. Clai-e was a little 
 dazzled. She had never been in love, and was quite ready 
 to accept her flattered interest in this very handsome and 
 clever young man as a real attachment. A few days 
 together in a foreign hotel, during the Easter vacation, 
 concluded the affair. Three weeks after their return he 
 proposed, and she accepted him. 
 
 There was no question of rivalry between him and Mr. 
 Tregaskiss. Tregaskiss was shy. He fell in love, after 
 his fashion, before he had known Clare a week. Had not 
 Sir Walter appeared on the scene he would have asked 
 lier to marry liim at the first symptom of encouragement. 
 As it was, Sir Walter overawed him. In spite of all poor 
 Clare's fine notions about the Australian spirit of equality, 
 and freedom from snobbism, there was in Tregaskiss just 
 a touch of the bourgeois respect for any kind of a title. 
 What Clare took for modest resei-ve and disinterested 
 chivalry, for she had divined his feelings toward her, was 
 partly due to this sense of inferiority, and pai'tly to the 
 bushman's lack of social training. He took it for granted 
 that Miss Gardyne would prefer to marry a baronet rather 
 than an Australian squatter, and his vanity shrank from 
 the mortification of a refusal. As far as was compatible 
 with a not particularly high order of ability, Ti-egaskiss 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDYNE. 51 
 
 had a robust power of reasoning, and could often seize 
 a point to his advantage. But he made the mistake 
 common to material natures, of making no allowance for 
 the loftier qualities and for the influence of imagination. 
 A logic which grovels with its wings clipped seldom gets 
 a right view of things. It is not improbable that had 
 Tregaskiss pushed his cause boldly at the beginning, Clare, 
 fascinated by her own romantic conceptions of life in the 
 wilds, might have allowed him to capture her fancy before 
 Sir Walter had had time to enchain it. Oddly enough, at 
 that time she found Tregaskiss personally attractive. His 
 Viking physique and the savour in him of nature and of an 
 open air simplicity of manner were all in his favour. He 
 was at this time a muscular young man of six-and-twenty, 
 with the freshness of youth still upon him. No greater 
 contrast could be imagined to the London masher or the 
 Kensington aesthete. He had animal pluck and vigour, and 
 a subdued boisterousness which presented itself as frank 
 daring, restive under the pressure of conventions. 
 
 His smile was sweet, his teeth then white, liis blue eyes 
 clear and shining. He was one of those men who can put 
 on their garb of polite manners in a drawing-room with 
 a not unbecoming stiffness, but who will doff it with joyful 
 ease when outside the restrictions of civilisation, and it is 
 very diflBcult to discriminate, in the case of an enthusiastic 
 woman especially, between the gentlemanly instinct which 
 has conquered barbaric associations and the barbaric 
 instinct peeping out from under the mask of social forms. 
 Clare, at any rate, was not acute enough to make the dis- 
 tinction. In Tregaskiss she beheld a sincere and clean- 
 souled embodiment of the primitive and noble forces. She 
 felt a wish, after having engaged herself to Sir Walter, to 
 keep him for a friend, but he drew back, was constrained, 
 faintly resentful, and avoided her society. This was how 
 she found out that he cared for her, and she pitied him. 
 
 Her engagement to Sir Walter did not, however, last 
 
52 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 many weeks. The cvasli came witb tragic unexpectedness. 
 One evening about nine o'clock a revolver shot echoed 
 through the house in Queen's Gate, and when, some two 
 hours after, Sir Walter brought his^awc^e and her chaperon 
 home from the theatre, having left her father at his request 
 to smoke a cigar and work off arrears of correspondence, 
 the party were met by the butler, who opened the door 
 with a blanched face. A strange doctor was in the hall, 
 and the news was broken to Clare that her fatlier had blown 
 out his brains. 
 
 The cause of the tragedy was known soon enough. A 
 company bubble had burst. There had been nefarious 
 dealings, in which the Leichardt's Land Government was 
 involved. The late agent-general had chosen the shortest 
 way out of the tangle of living. 
 
 Clare Gardyne was an orphan, penniless, and branded as 
 the daughter of a scoundrel. Tlie pretty house of cards 
 toppled as though a gust had struck it. Creditors 
 swarmed, friends held aloof ; even the Warrakers were 
 cold. Gladys had lately married, according to her theories, 
 and was upon a honeymoon tour through India. Lady 
 Cliisholm did not even leave a card of sympatiiy. Clare 
 heard that she was going about representing herself and 
 her son as victims of the most heinous fraud. A little later 
 Sir Walter wrote, on the eve of a sudden trip to America, 
 stating his deep regret tliat altered circumstances compelled 
 him to release Miss Gardyne from an engagement which 
 had been entered into upon a misconception, and which, if 
 continued, could only result in misery to both. 
 
 So from the fairy princess, upon whom the world had 
 smiled, and at whose feet the handsome prince had knelt, 
 Clare found herself transformed into the outcast beggar 
 maid. Mrs. Marrable came to the rescue. She deemed it 
 her duty to offer her niece a liome, and in her shame, 
 desolation, and bewilderment, Clare subdued her horror 
 of the Nonconformist surroundings, and went meekly with 
 
THE STORY OF CLARE GARDYNE. 53 
 
 her aunt to the bow-windowed villa in the provincial 
 town. 
 
 She was filled with an immeasurable contempt for the 
 heartless time-serving of the people among whom she had 
 lived, and for tiie tinsel glitter of her London world. And 
 then her woman's pride, her girl's vanity, and something 
 stronger and deeper in her than either, were wounded and 
 bleeding, past cure. She had not really loved Sir Walter, 
 but she had believed that he loved her. Now she despised 
 and hated him. She felt bruised and beaten into one great 
 throe of longing to be done with her past forever. In her 
 passionate revulsion, the picture of Australia, which her 
 fancy had been working np all these years, showed itself as 
 a vision of paradise. When, a month after her father's 
 death, Tregaskiss offered her the key to this paradise, and 
 a means of escape from the stifling Marrable prison, which 
 now seemed more intolerable than even in her childhood, 
 she accepted the offer with hardly a question. She saw 
 Tregaskiss as a lover, true, loyal, strong, disinterested. 
 Had he not been faithful, when the man to whom she had 
 been pledged basely deserted her? In truth, he was at 
 his best in the diffident deference of a genuine affection, 
 and he met her with a certain pitying, yet blunt, air of 
 dominance, quite in consonance with his somewhat master- 
 ful nature, which just now gave her a grateful sense of 
 support. Thus he appealed to hermost generous impulses. 
 Sliould she pause cold-bloodedly to analyse her exact senti- 
 ments and the due proportions of love and gratitude in her 
 feelings toward him? Should she not rather respond gen- 
 erously, bravelj', after the manner in which he had come 
 to her? And what was she ? she asked herself; what was 
 her position, what the advantages she could bring to him, 
 that she should exact an overflowing measure of all the 
 heroic qualities? 
 
 He was going back to his Western station in three weeks. 
 Business arrangements made it impossible for him to defer 
 
54 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 the date. Would she many him at once and go home 
 with him to her beloved Australia ? The " West " was only 
 a name to her. Pie had told her of great plains, of gidia 
 scrub ; had made light of hardships ; had painted everything 
 in the most glowing colours. That was a way of Tregas- 
 kiss'. One of his mottoes was, "Praise your own, and the 
 world will think well of it." He had given the full count 
 of his thousands of cattle, their probable rate of increase, 
 the confidence which the bank had in him as a man of 
 brains and mettle — he explained that the station had been 
 purchased on terms of mortgage. A few good seasons and 
 he should be a very rich man. He had a notion of enter- 
 ing the legislative assembly. How should she like to be 
 instrumental in forming the destinies of a new country ? 
 She snatched at the fancy. That had always been her 
 ambition. And then what might she not do for the rude, 
 honest, magnanimous souls, pitiing for light and leading, 
 who would be under her influence ! She remembered the 
 army of shepherds and shearers on the TJbi. What graces 
 and refinements she would introduce ; what sweet, W'hole- 
 some, earnest living ! It was for the moment an intoxicat- 
 ing prospect. How much grander to be the wife of a man 
 like Tregaskiss than the wife of Sir Walter Chisholm, who 
 would make of her a mere link in the chain of an effete 
 civilisation. 
 
 That is how she came to marry Keith Tregaskiss. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 OVER THE PLAINS. 
 
 The buggy crawled over the interminable desert. The 
 horses were tired, and, with steaming flanks and panting 
 breath, dragged their limbs heavily, roused every now and 
 then by an impatient curse from Tregasliiss and a flick of 
 the whip. He had lashed them mercilessly at the start to 
 punish them for the trouble they had given him, and there 
 were long weals raising their unkempt coats. 
 
 " They won't feel much inclined to bolt to-night," he 
 said grimly. At the camping-place they were to find a 
 change of horses, and the black boy who had brought 
 them would take charge of these and drive them slowly 
 homeward. The camping-place, a gidia scrub, which 
 fringed a water- course, was still a blur upon the horizon 
 in front. It was getting toward sundown, and they had 
 been travelling since early morning. 
 
 Oh, these desert plains ! For miles and miles they 
 stretch, a dreary brown expanse ; in summer, scorched, 
 dried up, and glaring ; in winter, swept by chill east- 
 erly winds. The loose, sandy soil grows the prickly spen- 
 nifex grass, which has leaves barbed with needle-like 
 points, and long stalks stretching along the ground, and 
 taking root at intervals to put forth more spiky tussocks. 
 Sometimes there are patches of the horrible poison bush, 
 and sometimes a clump of starved gidia trees or of stunted 
 yellow jack. Sometimes there are no trees at all to break 
 the dead level monotony. A belt of scrub in the far distance 
 is as a cloud ; and there stands out, silhouetted against 
 the sky, the shape of an animal or the weird-looking out- 
 
 65 
 
56 MRS. TREGASKI8S. 
 
 line of windmill pump. For in this land of drought, 
 dania and wells abound in all the great stations, and no 
 one dreams of riding on a journey without water-bags 
 hung on the saddle or round the horse's neck. And even 
 so, if the traveller is a bad bnsliman, as the saying goes, 
 and loses his bearings, the canvas water-bag soon runs dry, 
 and the chances are that some stray stockman or kangaroo 
 hunter will one day, in his wandering.s, come across a 
 dried up, mummy-like body, or a bundle of bleached 
 bones, lying among the speniiifex bushes or under a gidia 
 tree. 
 
 When first Clare liad come to the Leura countiy — in a 
 dry season — she used to stare in astonishment at hearing 
 her husband and the black bo3'S and stockmen talk of 
 "crossing the water-course," or of "following up the 
 creek"; for she could see no sign of water or creek-bed, 
 only perhaps a few grass-grown holes far apart and with 
 no visible connection. But it was explained to her that 
 these dry holes were the " creek." And one rainleSiS day, 
 when there had been no sign of moisture in the lieavens, 
 she beheld a miracle in the shape of a wide, roaring, rush- 
 ing river pouring its flood over the scorched grass and 
 parched sand, and was told that the creek had " come 
 down," because of a great thunderstorm at the heads, and 
 that they must turn back or else swim the horses. This 
 miracle, however, had not happened for two years. 
 
 The buggy was of American build, with two seats and 
 a rough framework supporting a covering of oil-cloth. 
 Clare and her husband were in front, and Claribel, the 
 half-caste, sat behind with Ning, while the baby was 
 cradled by turns in the arms of its mother and its nurse. 
 The insects, the heat, and the uneven progress of the 
 buggy fretted the poor little creature, and its moans irri- 
 tated Tregaskiss. Ning was tired and cross, too, and as 
 Clare, with throbbing head, aching back, and tired arms, 
 tried to soothe first one child and now the other, she had a 
 
OVER THE PLAINS. 57 
 
 grotesque fancy, in moments of dulled consciousness, that 
 this was some sort of purgatorial torture slie was going 
 tlirougli ; and wlien her husband, startled by the odd 
 sound of the laugh with which she pulled herself together, 
 asked what she was thinking of, answered : 
 
 " Oh, only that it was a pity Dante never came to the 
 Never-Never country ! " 
 
 " Good Lord ! " Tregaskiss ejaculated contemptuously, 
 and whipped on the horses, not thinking it worth while to 
 pursue the subject further. Presently, however, as he 
 turned suddenly, fancying the whip had flicked her, he 
 was struck by her extreme pallor and a curious dazed 
 look in her face. She caught at the rail of the buggy. 
 " Please hold baby steady on my lap," she murmured. 
 
 Tregaskiss hastily shifted the reins and clasped the 
 child, while she slowly straightened herself. " What is 
 it ? You're not going to faint ! Hold hard a moment , 
 I'll get you a nip of brandy." 
 
 " No, no ; this is better ! " 
 
 She fumbled in her pocket, shakily producing a small 
 bottle and medicine glass, and succeeded in pouring out 
 and swallowing some of the mixture before the blackness, 
 which was beginning to rise, had blotted out everything 
 in front of her. The dose immediately revived her, send- 
 ing a little shock through her body, and for a moment or 
 two causing her heart to beat violently. 
 
 " What is it ?" Tregaskiss asked. 
 
 " Nitro-glycerine, I think. Dr. Geneste gave it to me." 
 
 " Geneste ! " cried Tregaskiss, pulling up and looking 
 at her thoroughly alarmed. "Old dear, it's nothing but 
 being done up, is it ? Nitroglycerine ! Geneste ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " Where on earth did you pick him up?" 
 
 " I forgot — I didn't tell you I fainted — or something 
 yesterday, and Mrs. Ruffey brought him in to see me." 
 
 " Fainted ! And you never said a word to me about it ! 
 How should I have known you weren't up to the journey, 
 
58 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 which is evident enough. I might liave spelled a day at 
 
 Cedar Hill. But you will always make d d mysteries. 
 
 Well, if you choose to kill yourself, it's your own look- 
 out." 
 
 Tregaskiss' genuine concern vented itself in anger. 
 Clare deprecatingly protested. "It was nothing. She 
 hadn't wanted to delay him. There was really no need to 
 worry over a fainting fit. Numbers of people fainted " 
 
 " Why, I dare say ! But you do always make d d 
 
 mysteries, especially about anything that upsets you. 
 What's the good ? That's not my way. If I'm upset I 
 let 'em know it." 
 
 This was certainly the case. Over the minor ills of life 
 Tregaskiss blustered. Clare, anxious to credit him with 
 the higher qualities, forced herself to believe that under 
 some great misfortune he might display an unsuspected 
 heroism. She laughed nervously, and again declared that 
 " it was nothing." 
 
 " Nitro-glycerine ! " Tregaskiss resumed. " Who ever 
 heard of such a thing ? I'll back against it good old honest 
 'Three Stars.' That's what I'm going to give you." 
 
 He threw down the reins and rummaged in one of the 
 bags at his feet for an iron cup. The brandy he poured 
 from a flask that he carried in his pouch. Then he swore 
 at the black boy, who was riding ahead with the pack-horse, 
 for going out of hearing, and bade him unstrap and fetch 
 the water-bag that was slung to the back of the buggy. 
 He scolded the half-caste nurse, too, for not having taken 
 the baby from her mistress, and passed the infant over the 
 back of the seat, so it awoke and cried. He made Clare 
 swallow a strong dose of the brandy, drank some himself, 
 ordered Tommy George to push on. to Tlie Grave, unload 
 tlie pack and prepare the camp, and finally lashed the tired 
 horses into a feeble trot, which brought them to the camp- 
 ing-place as the sun was setting. 
 
 The Grave was a grassy pocket between a gidia scrub 
 
OYER THE PLAINS. 59 
 
 and a shallow creek, now a bed of dry sand. It bad its 
 name from a long narrow mound under an iron-bark green 
 tree, and an inscription rudely cut in the bark, which 
 told that here a shepherd was buried. Vegetation was 
 comparatively luxuriant along the water-course. The 
 coolabah trees were more leafy, and an undergrowth of 
 tall grass tussocks and low shrubs spread on each side of 
 the broad sandy bed. Tommy George and his fellow 
 black boy had hobbled the pack-horses and were rigging 
 the tent, and the fresh relay of buggy horses, under the 
 charge of a third black boy, had arrived, and were grazing 
 with bells round their necks. Behind rose the dense gidia 
 scrub, interspersed with green trees and sandal-wood bushes, 
 which in this Leura country alternates with the vast 
 stretches of plain. Tiie gidia here grew to a greater height 
 than in the starved, sickly clumps which were dotted about 
 the desert flat. They are strange, melancholy trees, with stiff 
 hard leaves of a moonlight gray, and straight black trunks 
 that give them the appearance of being in mourning. 
 Clare did not dislike the gidia scrubs. Tliough they were 
 so different from the luxuriant jungle-like scrubs of the 
 Ubi which were associated with her girlhood, and of which 
 she had kept a glorified recollection, they had a weird 
 beauty of their own, which, in certain moods of hers, exer- 
 cised a soothing effect upon the nerves. She liked the 
 curious moaning sound that the wind made in the wiry 
 leaves, and then the faint sweet scent of the sandal-wood 
 growing among the gidia roused dreamy fancies, and was 
 peculiarly agreeable to her. There were still some blos- 
 soms left, though it was late November, and the sandal- 
 wood blooms in early spring. 
 
 It was a relief to get out of the buggy and stretch 
 cramped limbs. The grim purgatorial fancy had vanished. 
 The camp fire showed a scene of homely wildness. Tiny 
 flying things were about, but the black boys had piled 
 green brambles, which made a column of smoke, and in its 
 
60 MKS. TREGASKISS. ' 
 
 sliadow there was a freedom from the mosquitoes, whoso 
 hum mingled with the strange buzz of insect life that after 
 sundown haunts the bush. It is at this hour that the 
 flights of parrots and cockatoos end ; and the harsh cicadae 
 whirrings and shrill chatterings and screechings of the day- 
 are hushed. Then the wallabies and opossums and scrub 
 creatures come forth, and the dingoes start their dreary- 
 howl. 
 
 Clare took the baby again, and the wee hungry thing, 
 fed and appeased, opened its eyes and crowed, while 
 Claribel helped the black boys, and Tregaskiss unharnessed 
 the horses and got out rugs and provisions. Tommy 
 George with a tomahawk cleared the ground under the 
 tent of gidia tufts and prickly twigs, and strewed it with 
 leaves, over which Claribel spread a blanket. Ning forgot 
 her fretfulness for a little while in the excitement of the 
 preparations, but presently whined : 
 
 " Cobbon, mine thirsty. Daddy, where me find water? 
 Mine no find water." 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss explored the dried bed of the creek and 
 then echoed Ning's cry. " What are we going to do for 
 water ? The bags are empty." 
 
 " It's all right," said Tregaskiss curtly. " You are not 
 much of a bush woman, after all. Ask the black boys." 
 
 Tommy George grinned. " No fear, missus. Plenty 
 water. Sit down along a creek." And then he dug a hole 
 in the sand, and to Ning's delight the hole slowly became 
 a little pool, as water bubbled up from below. The tin 
 " billy " was filled and set on the fire to boil ; the salt beef 
 and bread and pickles, and a pot of jam Mrs. Ruflfey had 
 put up for Ning, spread out ; the quart-pot of tea was 
 made, and the travellers ate and were refreshed. After tea, 
 the water-hole was widened for the horses to drink, and 
 they, contented, hobbled to pasture, their bells tinkling as 
 they moved. Tregaskiss lit his pipe and stretched himself 
 with his head on a valise ; the black boys gathered round 
 
OVER THE PLAINS. 61 
 
 their own fire. Baby and Ning were given a sort of bath 
 in a tin dish, and by-and-by laid to sleep among the 
 blankets on their bed of leaves, with Claribel keeping 
 drowsy guard. 
 
 Clare too lay down at the entrance to the tent. She 
 could not bear to be within. She wanted to feel the vast 
 heavens over her — the wide world around her ; wanted to 
 yield herself without hindrance to the strange fascination 
 of night in the Australian bush. 
 
 Tlie moon, not yet full, threw ghostly shadows, and the 
 grass tussocks and spinnifex bushes took grotesque shapes. 
 There was a faint aromatic scent in the air. Life seemed 
 to breathe in every leaf, to lurk in the dimness everj'where, 
 and yet the sense of loneliness was overpowering. The 
 bells had grown fainter, but the insect hum had intensified, 
 and through it she could hear the " hop-hop " of wallabies, 
 and now and then a crasliing of underwood far off in the 
 scrub, as some wild cattle made their way out. The blacks 
 were still chattering, but Tregaskiss, his pipe between his 
 teeth, was huddled in his blanket, and might have been 
 asleep, but for an occasional muttered oath and slap at a 
 tormenting mosquito. He roused for a moment to swear 
 at the black boys and shout : " Give those horses there a 
 shoot back. Can't you hear Priam's bell working off ? 
 Shorten his hobbles a ring or two. He's a brnte to ramble." 
 He rolled over again. Then after a time, " Clare, are you 
 asleep?" 
 
 " No, Keith, I can't close my eyes." 
 
 " Nor I. D n the mosquitoes. I don't believe that's 
 
 Priam's bell, after all. Some bullock-drovers, perhaps, 
 camped in the other pocket. Pickaninny all right ? " 
 
 "Sleeping soundly." Presently she added, " Keith ! " 
 
 A snore was the answer. 
 
 Clare lay broad awake and looked up at the stars, the 
 Southern Cross witli its pointers unperceptibly mounting ; 
 the Pleiades ; the Magellan clouds ; and Venus had risen 
 
62 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 over tlie tops of tlie trees so brilliant that she seemed to 
 throw forth a defined ray of light ; and after her Mars had 
 become visible. There were all the wonderful southern 
 constellations, so familiar to Clare that she might have 
 known them for centuries. And yet, during the most im- 
 pressionable years of her life she had lived under northern 
 stars, and had studied them as illustrations, when she had 
 learned astronomy from the celestial globes in the school- 
 room. She tried now to recall the Great Bear and Charles' 
 Wain and the rest, but they were a blur, and her mind re- 
 fused to make any map of them. Odd ! For she knew 
 that if she were to go away toward the North Pole, and 
 live there to be a hundred, and never see Aldebaran and 
 tlie Scorpion and the Southern Cross again, they would be 
 as clear to her mind's eye at her dying day as they were 
 to her bodily eyes this night. Well, perhaps she had 
 known those stars centuries ago, and in some long dead 
 existence had steered by them, dreamed beneath them. 
 Perhaps it was the vague striving in her of passionate 
 memories from that richer existence which gave her at 
 times the bursting feeling of yearning and unrest, the ter- 
 rible dumb straining toward some undefined and wholly 
 unattainable joy. Perhaps, in this cramped, crude life to 
 which she seemed condemned, she was expiating the vices 
 of a too voluptuous or too ambitious past. Her fancy went 
 wandering in conjectures of the mystic sort. During her 
 stay with the Wari-akers she had dabbled, as in these days 
 of West Kensington mysticism most imaginative girls do 
 dabble, in the Pythagorean theories. 
 
 Gladys Warraker and she had firmly persuaded them- 
 selves that they had been friends, sisters, in a former phase 
 of development. They had revelled in the notion that 
 their aflinities dated back to the early Pharaohs, for which 
 civilisation they had entertained a strong predilection, 
 They declared to each other that it explained their idiosjm- 
 crasies. To be sure, Gladys, unlike Clare, bore no relation 
 
OVER THE PLAINS. 63 
 
 to the Sphinx type, but Gladys confessed to cravings 
 toward the Greek, and Pliilliellenism on tlie part of the 
 Pharaohs was almost prehistoric, and quite satisfactory 
 in the way of argument. Oh, of course they must have 
 all lived before ! As Glare gazed into the immensity of 
 space, she seemed to read in the stars proof of her convic- 
 tion. And if she had lived before, and had known Gladys, 
 she must have known others. Her husband ! Clare shud- 
 dered. Must they two go on, drawn together by some 
 raj'sterious attraction, for ever and ever in the cycle of 
 Fate, or might she hope, by patient submission in this life, 
 for freedom in future ages. It was a horrible thought that 
 she must be bound for seons upon S8ons to that uncongenial 
 companionship. As she lay she could hear Tregaskiss' 
 stertorous breathing : it affected her, even at this distance, 
 ■with a distinct sense of repulsion, and caused her to shrink 
 ■within the circle of herself, so to speak, so that she might 
 make a kind of spiritual barrier, which would prevent the 
 two atmospheres from mingling. What had her husband 
 been to her in the life that was gone ? Somehow he fitted 
 into the picture, and her fancy readily placed him amid 
 semi-barbaric associations. A fighting, conquering, riot- 
 ous-living, mail-clad, woman-loving hero — perhaps one of 
 the Trojan set, or a Berserker maybe. She was getting 
 mixed in her chronology and laughed to herself. She had 
 never had any faculty for dates. 
 
 Tregaskiss' snores became louder. The black boys were 
 now lying like mummies, rolled in their blankets. Sud- 
 denly the dingoes in the scrub behind set up a prolonged 
 and most grewsorae howling. Clare was familiar enough 
 ■with the dismal howl, which, even when she heard it in 
 her bedroom at Mount Wombo, made her shudder. But 
 here in the wild it afflicted her with an eerie, indescribable 
 horror. She was not frightened, — of course she knew that 
 dingoes are not creatures to be frightened of, — but the 
 wailing got on her nerves, and when the curlews joined in 
 
64 MES. TREGASKISS. 
 
 with tlieir miserable shriek, she could endure no longer to 
 lie still and listen, but got up and wandered away from the 
 camp, finding relief in movement. She had at all times a 
 tendency to sleeplessness, and would often at home steal 
 out in the starlight or moonlight and pace the bank of the 
 lagoon, feeling a certain satisfaction in being thus alone 
 with nature. 
 
 To-night she walked out of sight of the camp, I'ound 
 the bend of the creek and along the broad shallow water- 
 course. Presently she got into a sparsely wooded pocket, 
 mostly grown with the mournful coolabah, or flooded gum, 
 which in the moonlight looked peculiarly dank and deso- 
 late. Clare thought that the buggy horses must all have 
 strayed here, the tinkling of the bells was so distinct and 
 frequent. Then as she got near a belt of gidia, which 
 seemed to bound the pocket, she became aware of a differ- 
 ent sound beyond — the stir and confused night bellow of 
 a small mob of cattle, and tlie regular patrol of a mounted 
 stockman keeping the beasts from breaking. The belt of 
 gidia narrowed down from the scrub to the water-course, 
 and at the point was a clump of big gum. trees, that she 
 thought must shadow a landslip and lower plateau, for she 
 could see the smoke and reflection of a camp-fire rising, it 
 appeared, from several feet below. As she approached the 
 gums more closely and finally crouched down behind the 
 trunk of the largest, Clare could hear the voices of men 
 camped round the fire. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW LONG ! HOW LONG ! 
 
 It was the usual camp talk ; slie had heard the same 
 sort of thing before. From it she gleaned that the party 
 consisted of a gentleman drover, a stockman, and a young 
 " hand " or two, who were taking down fat cattle to Port 
 Victoria. 
 
 Somebody said : 
 
 " I suppose you know that you're a 'scab,' Peter. 
 That's what you're called, isn't it, when you throw up the 
 union ? " 
 
 " Scab or blackleg — I dun-now ; I aint on the strike 
 any more now." 
 
 " Well, you're not a shearer, Peter, anyhow, so what 
 were you striking for? " 
 
 " I dun-now. When I went to Ilgandah with my mate, 
 he went on strike : and Jem Dowlan comes up to me, and 
 I had to give him ten shillings, and then he guv me a 
 ticket. I dun-now what they were all doing ; but we 
 camped out on the creek, and they used to give us a stick 
 of tobacco every oilier day. Then the man that owned 
 the strike said he had no more money, and then a chap gets 
 up and says those can go and get work that wants; and 
 those tliat don't want can fight to the bitter end and ruin 
 the squatters and drag Leichardt's Land down with them. 
 And tlien we gives the chap three cheers. That's all I 
 know about it ; but I bet there'll be a jolly row before next 
 shearing time. And I know I was jolly full of it ; and 
 anyway, I've sacked the union and tore up my ticket." 
 
 Tlie late striker who had delivered his opinions appeared 
 
 65 
 
66 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 to Lave moved away. Clare leaned over round the trunk 
 of the gum tree. She could see what seemed to be a 
 further camp-fire, with four black boys playing euchre a 
 little way from it. The striker had drifted toward them, 
 and she could hear his voice saying, " Take it up," as he 
 joined the game. She recognised him as an undersized, 
 vicious, unhealthy-looking lout, a waif whom Tregaskiss 
 had kept for a few months on Mount Wombo and had dis- 
 missed for theft. 
 
 "It's a fine union to be made up of things like that," 
 said a voice which caused Mrs. Tregaskiss to start. " Tiiat 
 boy knows nothing about a union ; and the man who 
 owns it, and whom they were cheering, is Kelso, the labour 
 delegate — one of the greatest scoundrels unhung. What 
 fools they all are ! " 
 
 The voice was that of Geneste ; it resumed : " I shall 
 go and have a look round the mob, boys, before I turn in. 
 Daybreak sharp, to-morrow, for my start. Lucky I hit 
 yonr camp. I should advise you to keep a close watch 
 to-night. A cattle smash in a brigalow scrub is no joke. 
 These Darra beasts are a wild lot. Hand me over tlie 
 tobacco pouch, Micklethwaite, will you, and a firestick?" 
 
 Clare crept closer to the edge of the landslip, and craned 
 forward over the bristling herbage and rank grass that 
 screened the drop. She saw now a nearer camp-fire, right 
 under tlie shadow of the bank, which was steeper than 
 she had supposed. The gentleman drover, Micklethwaite, 
 whom she recognised also as having come over once from 
 Cyrus Chance's station to Mount Wombo, was leaning 
 back against his saddle and a roll of blankets, placidly 
 smoking. One of the stockmen was on his knees mixing 
 and kneading the flour for next day's damper on a canvas 
 baking-board. A "billy" of tea simmered in the ashes ; 
 and there was a larger billy in which salt junk was boil- 
 ing. On a flour bag a little way off were spread the 
 remains of the evening's meal. Two other men sprawled 
 
HOW LONG! HOW LONG! 67 
 
 on their blankets smoking and cursing tlie heat, the insects, 
 and the necessity of sitting well into the smoke of the fire, 
 in order to escape from the mosquitoes. 
 
 Somebody remarked that the clouds had cleared off, 
 and Geneste said : " I don't like this weather ; it looks to 
 me as if there would be a long drought. By the way, have 
 you seen anything of the Mount Wombo people to-day, on 
 their way up ?" 
 
 " Tresgaskiss ? No. Shouldn't wonder if he was camp- 
 ing in the other pocket. Peter said he heard horse-bells. 
 Somebody told me he was bringing up his wife. Poor 
 woman ! " 
 
 Geneste went on scraping his pipe, and did not speak. 
 He sat down on a fallen tree and tapped his pipe against 
 the bark. The firelight illumined his clean-cut face, and 
 showed lines of determination about the mouth. Clare 
 liked the face ; she liked him for taking no notice of the 
 allusion to herself. How dare these men pity her ! 
 
 Mioklethwaite went on : 
 
 " It beats me how a lady brought up in England can go 
 on leading the life she does. And how a man can stand by 
 and see his wife roughing it in such a God-forsaken hole, 
 knowing that he had brought her from luxury to — that, 
 and not want to cut his throat or go on his knees and beg 
 her pardon, is more than I can understand." 
 
 Still Dr. Geneste said nothing. 
 
 "I call it a downright sin," contined Mioklethwaite. 
 " And when he is a little ' on,' he isn't decently civil to 
 her. I saw her wince the night I was there ; and there 
 was a butcher at the table who ought to have been at the 
 huts ; and her husband chaffing and cheapening her before 
 him in his rough way. By Jove ! if I had a wife as hand- 
 some as Ml s. Tregaskiss, I'd treat her like a queen, and 
 I'd see that all other fellows did the same. Upon ray soul ! 
 I pity a woman under those conditions. It's enough to 
 make her hook it with another chap — only there isn't any- 
 
68 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 body up here worth her while to hook it with. What do 
 you say, doctor ? " 
 
 " That I prefer not to bring a lady's name into camp 
 discussion." Geneste's tone suggested a flint giving sparks. 
 "Tlianks!" He stretched over for the firestick which 
 Micklethwaite had been brandishing, liglited his pipe, 
 rose, and stepped out of Clare's sight. 
 
 " Well, that's a facer," murmured Micklethwaite to him- 
 self ; " but I'm hanged if I didn't deserve it." And he 
 got up uncomfortably, and went over to where the black 
 boys were playing. 
 
 The stockman, who had kneaded his dough into a cake, 
 whistled, and shifted the blazing logs apart, leaving a glow- 
 ing bed, in which he scooped a hollow, placing the dough 
 therein, and covering it carefully with ashes. 
 
 " Here, one of you fellows ! I'm going to round up the 
 horses. Look after the fire for me," he called out. " The 
 damper is in the ashes." 
 
 " And damn-poor it will be when it comes out," said 
 one of the other men, making the regulation camp joke. 
 
 Clare, hot and trembling with indignation, had drawn 
 back against the gum tree. She hated Micklethwaite — 
 unreasonably, perhaps. At the moment she hated her hus- 
 band, with greater justification. It was he, she told her- 
 self, who had subjected her to this humiliation. At least 
 Dr. Geneste was a gentleman. This was the most coherent 
 thought that framed itself. She got up, and ran as swiftly 
 and quietly as she could away from the gum clump and 
 down toward the river bed. Tears blinded her. She ran 
 till she was out of hearing of the men's laughter and the 
 black boys' voices calling over their game. Then she stood 
 still, and stretched out her arms in a tragic gesture that 
 was a revelation of the pent force of passion in her. A 
 revelation, indeed, to the man who had been impressed by 
 her stoic resignation that afternoon, and who could not 
 have imagined it possible for her face to be transformed 
 
HOW LONG! HOW LONG! 69 
 
 as the mooiiligbt now showed it. Geneste was close to 
 her, but she did not see him. 
 
 It seemed natural that her emotion should express itself 
 in Biblical phrase. 
 
 " How long, oh, my God, how long ! " she said, almost 
 in a wliisper, but so clearly and with such intensity of 
 emotion that each syllable fell sliarply upon his ears 
 through tlie howling of the dingoes in the scrub. She 
 looked up with great despairing eyes to the star-studded 
 space above, and then out upon the vast lonely bush showing 
 wliere the belt of scrub broke, a vista of desolate plain. 
 The world seemed open to her, and she might escape now, 
 this very night, unchecked, with pitying nature's mantle 
 spread out to hide her from pursuit. Practically, she was as 
 free as the kangaroo or the wild dog. And yet — yet she 
 stood, a wretched human, chained by moral responsibility, 
 as tightly as though her limbs were bound with iron. 
 
 " How long ! how long ! " she repeated, this time 
 loudei". Tiie expression of her face spoke the answer to 
 lier question ; that despairing formula, "Till death us do 
 part." Instinctively, Geneste felt that this was the 
 thought which shaped itself on her lips. He had never 
 heard it suggested, until Micklethwaite made his careless 
 remark, that her marriage was not a happy one ; but lie 
 knew now, as surely as if she had laid bare her inner life 
 to him, that she was miserably mated. 
 
 Her arms had dropped to her side, and her form, momen- 
 tarily expanded in her passion, collapsed. The turning 
 inward, as it were, of that wild, outward gaze, — yearning, 
 he fancied, for the breath of ocean and of libertj', — seemed 
 to him like the hopeless glance back of a captive from 
 blue sky, glimpsed through a prison grating, to the pallet 
 bed and blank walls of a condemned cell. She was men- 
 tally scanning her cell — the tent, not quarter of a mile dis- 
 tant, in which lay her sleeping children. 
 
 She pulled^ herself together and moved mechanically 
 
10 MRS. TREGASKISS. ' 
 
 homeward, coming down toward tlie river bed and to 
 where Geneste was standing in the shadow of a gum tree. 
 A cattle track ran along the creek side, bare and clear in 
 the moonlight. Across it, a yard from her feet, lay a bluTit 
 brown thing like a bit of dead wood or a shred of bark. 
 She would probably have trodden upon it, had not a voice 
 called out sharply, but quite steadily : 
 
 " Step back ! It's all right — only a snake in front of 
 you." 
 
 She retreated sidewaj^s, and with a great start found 
 herself almost toucliing Dr. Geneste, who had removed his 
 pipe with one hand, and held the other outstretched. 
 Clare laughed hysterically, a weakness unusual with her. 
 
 " Oh ! it's — you ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes. Stop a moment ; I must have that brute." 
 
 He looked round, and picked up a short thick stick, with 
 which he struck the adder a blow on its flat head. The 
 reptile was sluggish, as is its way, and did not try to 
 escape. After a moment or two he pronounced that it 
 was " done for." 
 
 " Lucky it was on the track, and not in the grass. Tliey 
 make for clear spaces. You ought to be careful, Mrs. Tre- 
 gaskiss. The Grave has got a regular name for death 
 adders, and snakes are pretty spry at this time of the year. 
 Did I startle you ? You are trembling." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Thank you for calling out." She mastered 
 herself, and spoke evenly. 
 
 " Funny, our running across each other like this. Do 
 you often take midnight strolls ? " 
 
 "Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I go and sit down among 
 the gidia trees by the lagoon. It is cool there. To-night 
 in the tent it was so hot — and the mosquitoes, and the 
 native dogs. Did you ever hear them make so much 
 noise ? " 
 
 " Yes, often. It is an infernal howling. But I can't 
 say I dislike it. It had a sort of fascination for me when 
 
HOW LONG! HOW LONG! 71 
 
 I first began camping out. There was something barbaric 
 and unfettered in the association of ideas. One couldn't 
 have a stronger contrast to the London niglit noises : that 
 awful empty roll of returning carriages, and the like — a 
 kind of hollow social echo of the preacher's refrain ' vanity 
 of vanities.' " 
 
 He had talked on, mostly in the nervous effort to cover 
 a disagreeable suggestion. Had she heard Micklethwaite's 
 tactless comments upon her supposed matrimonial in- 
 felicity ? 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried; " you know all about that, too ? " 
 
 " Too ? " he repeated. " So you, as well as I, have 
 revolted from civilisation?" 
 
 " If you call it revolting " 
 
 " To marry an Australian squatter and come to the 
 Never-Never country. Are you happy here on the Leura, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss ? " 
 
 The moment he spoke he repented the question which 
 had escaped him out of the perverse working of things, as 
 one laughs on solemn occasions from the sheer strain of 
 enforced decorum, and which seemed an ironic allusion to 
 the despairing abandonment he had witnessed. 
 
 He fancied in the moonlight that she reddened. 
 
 " Happy ! " she repeated, with an involuntarily bitter 
 emphasis. Her tone was that of roused resentment, and 
 she turned on him eyes that flashed. The mild moon rays 
 revealed the flash. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, involuntarily also. " I 
 
 know what you are thinking, but I assure you It 
 
 wasn't out of impertinent curiosity tliat I said what I did." 
 
 " No — I understand how it came out. One says things 
 like that, and then one feels directly afterward that they 
 
 were tactless. I winced because Oli, I dare say you 
 
 understand too. Of course when I cried out in that stupid 
 way, I had no idea that you were close to me." 
 
 " I am very soriy. I had strolled away from the camp. 
 
1^ MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 I wanted to look at tlie mob. Yes, I know ; I saw jou, 
 and your expression arrested — moved me infinitely." 
 
 Slie made a gesture as if to deprecate his pity. "I owe 
 you thanks. You at any rate acted like a gentleman. I 
 am much obliged to you for not allowing "me to be dis- 
 cussed by — your stockmen." 
 
 " Micklethwaite spoke thoughtlessly. He is rather a 
 cad in some of his notions, and wants to be pulled up now 
 and tlien." 
 
 " 01), I remember when he came over to Mount Wombo. 
 He took pains to impress upon me that he had an extended 
 knowledge of English society. But like a good many of 
 the Englishmen who come West, he forgets the English 
 code of manners, and does not adop% the Australian 
 one." 
 
 " You are severe, Mrs. Tregaskiss." 
 
 " It is because I have suffered — from — from a want of 
 chivalry in a certain class of our visitors." 
 
 There was a slight pause. Siie broke it suddenly. 
 
 " What made you revolt from civilisation ? " 
 
 " Two things. One I will tell yon about, — if you would 
 care to hear, — perhaps, some day when we know each other 
 better ; the other was only break down of health. I was 
 threatened with consumption if I did not live in a warm, 
 dry climate." 
 
 "That you certainly have on the Leura. But you look 
 very well now." 
 
 " I got perfectly well in less than two years. But by 
 that time the passion for exploring had got hold of me. 
 It's as bad as the gold fever." 
 
 " I have never explored anything," she said impetuously, 
 "except" — and she hesitated and laughed — "except two 
 phases of life and a few illusions." 
 
 " The two phases of life are the English and Australian, 
 aren't they. I suppose you have explored them both 
 pretty thoroughly? " 
 
HOW LONG! HOW LONG! 13 
 
 " I have gone as far as circumstances have taken me, 
 and that isn't a great distance." 
 
 " Far enough, anyhow. It seems to have made you a bit 
 of a cynic. Mrs. Tregaskiss, you are too young to have 
 got to the other side of your illusions." 
 
 " I atn not at all young. I am at the beginning of mid- 
 dle age." 
 
 He laughed. " Middle age has its illusions, too, and, since 
 you are beginning it, you should be in the flush of its joys." 
 
 " What sort of joys and illusions has middle age ? " she 
 said indifferently. 
 
 " I think, before I try to fix them, I'll aslc you what ai'e 
 the joys and illusions you give the season of youth." 
 
 " I said nothing about joys. But, oh, yes — enthusiasm 
 is a joy, I suppose," she answered. 
 
 " Enthusiasm ? First love, and that sort of thing ? " 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of love at all, though I have no 
 doubt some girls take flirtation as a serious enjoyment. I 
 was thinking of i-eal enthusiasms — those were my illusions; 
 about books and art and people — people outside the flirt- 
 ing category. Girls are not in a position to know what 
 love means." 
 
 " Do yoM know, I wonder? "he mentally interpolated. 
 And then he thought of a girl who came into his mind not 
 seldom at this time, and exclaimed, with a curious frank- 
 ness : 
 
 " I think I could guess at one girl who would know 
 when the real thing came. But the real thing is slow 
 about coming along, as a general rule, I fancy." 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss made no comment on the interruption, 
 but went on in her deliberate, plaintively modulated voice : 
 
 " And there's the grand sort of hope and belief one 
 starts with, and the expectation one has that the world is 
 there to be twisted and kneaded into the shape one wishes, 
 as if it were a bit of dough." 
 
 " Now, I'm glad I asked you to place things," he said. 
 
li MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " I should have put them differently. I should have said 
 that first love was the illusion of youth, and art and books 
 the reality of middle age." 
 
 " Perhaps that is true. But art may begin in illusion, 
 may it not ? I was thinking of Gladys Hilditch." 
 
 " Gladys Hilditch ? " 
 
 " Oh, a friend of mine ! a girl who is married now ; one 
 of the artist set. Whom were you thinking of ? — the other 
 girl, I mean, who would know ' the real thing ' when it 
 came along?" 
 
 " Of Miss Helen Cusack," he answered. 
 
 " You think she is so real in herself that she would 
 know ? " 
 
 " I think she is very real and simple and sincere." 
 
 " Ah ! I understand. You mean that she is not com- 
 plex, that she would accept witliout analysing, and that 
 wlien she had once accepted a feeling as real, she would be 
 true to it ? " 
 
 " You express my thought exactly." 
 
 " I shall be more interested now in Helen Cusack," said 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss reflectively. " I looked upon her as a 
 child. I see that you look upon her as a woman." 
 
 Again there was a short pause. Tlien Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 resumed : 
 
 " There is no art, and there are very few books, on the 
 Leura." 
 
 " I have a great many books at Darra-Darra." 
 
 " Have you?" She spoke with some eagerness. 
 
 " Perhaps y6u'll come over and have a look some day. 
 I have lined a room with them. Ramm couldn't under- 
 stand how anyone could want a bullock-dray load of books. 
 If they had been kegs of rum he would have appreciated 
 the necessity''." 
 
 " That is quite certain." Once more, he knew by her 
 tone that he had touched a raw spot. " Don't the white 
 ants eat your books? At Mount Wombo they devour every- 
 
now LONG! HOW LONG! 75 
 
 thing. They crawl up the walls and eat the brackets and 
 picture frames ; they build nests in the storeroom, and eat 
 into the flour, and they scoop out the rafters, and make 
 holes in the cradle; and I shall dream that they are eating 
 baby." 
 
 " Oh, come, Mrs. Tregaskiss, that's partly the fault of 
 your station hands ; they should keep the posts and slabs 
 fresh tarred. But I can crow over some of your Leura 
 bosses, for I've built myself two stone rooms, and my 
 books are in one of them. That's your camp, I suppose." 
 
 They had come within sight of the fires, in the smoke of 
 which Tregaskiss and the black boys slumbered. Clare 
 seemed to hear her husband snore. There was a faint 
 tinkle of horse-bells, too, and of gentle browsing, audible 
 in a lull of the dingoes' howl. The errant Priam and his 
 mates had been driven by the mosquitoes into the circle of 
 smoke. Clare's children were sleeping. All was silence in 
 the tent. She started guiltily. 
 
 " I had forgotten my baby," she said, turning to Geneste 
 and holding out her hand. " My husband is asleep, and 
 you must want to get back to your camp and to go to 
 sleep, too, or I would ask you to come and make his 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "I can't do anything for you? No, I am not sleepy. 
 But I have to make a very early start to-morrow." 
 
 " It must be late — a strange hour, isn't it, for me to be 
 wandering ? " 
 
 " Strange ? yes," he assented absently. " I think every- 
 thing in life is strange ; but the strangest thing which 
 strikes me just now is that, though I took the liberty of 
 doctoring you yesterday, I have not asked how my reme- 
 dies succeeded. Did the drops do ?-" 
 
 " Oh, very well, thank you ! They pulled me together 
 
 to-day when I was beginning to feel faint and things were 
 
 growing black. But, never mind about that. It isn't that 
 
 whicli matters." 
 6 
 
76 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " What is it that matters, then ? Tell me, Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss. I wish I could help you ! " 
 
 Something of the tragic passion he had surprised a little 
 Avhile before showed itself in the look she gave him. The 
 look was searching, and had a pained hesitancy, yet she 
 spoke almost with recklessness : 
 
 " It matters that I let j^'ou see my weakness. Yes, you 
 can help me — this way. Don't betray me." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " he exclaimed angrilj'. " What do 
 you take me for ? " 
 
 " For a man, like all other men. I don't know you, 
 remember. You may be engaged to Helen Cusack ; if not 
 now, you will be, perhaps, by and by. I know how men 
 talk to girls thejj^ are going to marry, especially about 
 some older w'oman in whom the girl is interested. It 
 would be natural enough that j'ou should discuss me 
 together, and that you should speak to her about what 
 you have seen. I have this great favour to ask you, and I 
 am paj'ing a compliment in asking it — don't do so. In- 
 stead, forget it." 
 
 " What do yon take me for ? " he said again. " Do you 
 class me with Micklethwaite?" 
 
 "No, no! But, oh! stop people when thej' begin to 
 say the things he said. You don't know how it galls my 
 pride to think of it ! And then, for one's neighbours — for 
 the Cusacks — to know, to pity one, perhaps ! Besides, Dr. 
 Geneste, it is not true. I am quite happy; I am perfectly 
 contented." She flung out the assertion defiantly. " My 
 life may be rough and dull to outsiders, but I chose it of 
 my own free will. More, even, I chose it thankfully." 
 
 " You are a very loyal woman, Mrs. Tregaskiss, and I 
 respect you. That's answer enough, isn't it, to what a'Ou 
 ask ? " 
 
 " I have something more to tell you. Do you know 
 that, when I was disgraced and deserted by my friends 
 and by the man who wanted to marry me, he was true — 
 
HOW LONQl HOW LONG! 77 
 
 Keith Tregaskiss ? He didn't run away from me ; he 
 came forward and offered me everything that he had to 
 offer." 
 
 " I did not know," he stammered. " I know nothing of 
 your history, except " 
 
 " Except that I was Clare Gardyne, — that's enough to 
 make it all clear, — and that now I am Clare Tregaskiss. I 
 bear my husband's name with gratitude — yes, gratitude. 
 You would be quite mistaken if you imagined, from what 
 you saw to-night, that I am unhappy." 
 
 " No, no ! " he exclaimed. " Think me as impertinent 
 as you like for saying it : you challenged me, remember. 
 No, you may tell me as many loyal lies as you think 
 proper, Mrs. Tregaskiss, but you'll never make me believe 
 that you are a happy woman 1 " 
 
 The man's matter of fact sincerity dashed down her 
 weapons and forced her to a reactionary candour. 
 
 " It's true. Sometimes I think that I am the most mor- 
 bidly miserable woman on earth. But I don't give way to 
 it. To-night I couldn't help crying out. I was choking ; 
 I was stifled ; I was being — killed, by the awful dense 
 materialism of everything. I want sympathy ; I want 
 soul, spirit, intellect to come and surround me, and breathe 
 a breatii of real life into me. And there's nothing — noth- 
 ing but coarse, cruel flesh and blood ; beef and mutton ; 
 parched, barren ground. Earth — eai'th ! fit only to bury 
 a corpse in. Nothing but everlasting gum tree ; everlast- 
 ing gibia scrub ; everlasting dry plain." She stretched out 
 her hands to the forest and the distant level which touched 
 the sky. "It's awful, isn't it? It's horrible — so big, so 
 lonely, and so — dead!" 
 
 She stopped and stared at him like a trapped thing ; and 
 then gave herself a little shake. " Good gracious ! what 
 makes me talk like this ! You must think me mad ! " 
 
 " Dear lady, I think you are tired and overstrained, and 
 the Leura has got on your nerves ; and your little out- 
 
V8 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 burst is as natural— and as necessary — as the escape of com- 
 pressed steam. You'll be all the better for it. As far as I 
 go, you must recollect that I'm a physician, and if I don't 
 understand something about women's nerves, I had no 
 business to go in as specialist for nervous disorders. Per- 
 haps thinking of that will give you a little more confidence 
 in my sympathy, as well as in my discretion." 
 
 "Yes, thank you," she answered abruptly'', quite recalled 
 to herself. " Good-night, Dr. Geneste ! " 
 
 "We shall probably fall in with each other on the road 
 to-morrow," he said, " as we are both bound in the same 
 direction. If not, please convey my regrets to Mr. Tregas- 
 kiss, and allow me to look forward to a meeting at Mount 
 Wombo." 
 
 "Yes ; he will be sorry. 
 
 " Good-night, then ! " 
 
 lie lifted his hat and moved a step or two, then came 
 back. 
 
 " There's something I should like to saj^, Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 I will never repeat to living soul what you have said 
 to-night. And — I have not the honour of being engaged 
 to Miss Helen Cusack." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CUSACKS. 
 
 Me. Tregaskiss and liis wife did not, upon tlieir next 
 day's journey, fall in with Dr. Geneste. He started at daj'- 
 break, and Tregaskiss two or three hours later. The black 
 boys, in getting up the horses, of course at once discovered 
 their neighbours of the night ; and Clare was not yet awake 
 from a dull sleep when they came back and informed their 
 master. Tregaskiss hurried off to look at the mob of " fats," 
 and lost some time in discussing bovine matters and Leura 
 gossip with Micklethwaite over a pannikin of tea which had 
 in it more than a dash of cognac. Micklethwaite came up 
 to the buggy camp, in shirt-sleeves and soiled moleskins, to 
 pay his respects, as he stated, to Mrs. Tregaskiss and the 
 new baby. He was disposed to be a little free and easy 
 after his early stimulant, though it must be owned in 
 justice that this was not a frequent indulgence, and Ti'egas- 
 kiss scolded his wife afterward for being stand-off, and for 
 keeping visitors away from Mount Wombo by " confounded 
 dignity." 
 
 There was another day's drive whicli seemed intermin- 
 able ; and the baby fretted and moaned with prickly heat, 
 and King was cross, and Tregaskiss swore. On and on, 
 across the dreary plains, under scorching sun, the only 
 relief a belt of scrub ; the only life, but their own, a road 
 party, a shepherd, and a man who looked dazed and 
 answered Tregaskiss' greeting with a stupid laugh. He 
 had "gone silly" from sunstroke and was left in charge of 
 a survej'ors' camp. Then night under the stars, and water 
 getting low in the canvas bags, so that the children 
 
80 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 could not have a batli ; and on again the next morning, 
 till toward sundown Brinda Plains station came in sight. 
 
 The station — as the seat of the workings was called, in 
 contradistinction to " The House," where the Cusacks 
 lived — was, as is the case on many large sheep properties, 
 a village in itself, with its great woolshed, its store and 
 post office and bachelor's quarters, the men's huts, and 
 cottages of the storekeeper and accountant. Then came 
 a fence with big white gates, — Brinda Plains was the best 
 gated station in the district, — and beyond the gates. The 
 House, an oasis of comfort and luxuriant verdure in the 
 midst of the brown plain, which was like the sea, having 
 island-clumps of trees dotted about, and lily-covered water- 
 hole, making another spot of bright green ; and a long, low, 
 dull green line in the near distance marking the creek. 
 The liouse was low and rambling, mostly of stone, and 
 there were great wide verandas, and many outbuildings, 
 some of which had bough shades, while others were con- 
 nected with the main structure by gangways, covered with 
 native convolvulus and wild cucumber. There was a 
 beautiful garden, which had water laid on from the water- 
 holes, so that the half-tropical shrubs were green and the 
 flower beds gay. Clumps of bamboos looked like tufts of 
 upright feathers. A bohinia tree, with its large pink 
 flowers, resembled a gigantic azalea shrub in bloom ; and an 
 emu apple showed a waning glory of great white blossoms. 
 The coral plant was putting forth its green and giving 
 out only points of red, and the tecoma tree showed branches 
 of brilliant orange bells. There were flowers of all kinds, 
 manjr fruit trees, and shady grape-trellised walks. It was 
 a beautiful garden, and Clare thought regretfullj^ of her 
 own less luxuriant plot, and wished that tliej' too had 
 windmill-pumps and a staff of gardeners. As the buggy 
 drove past, a set of tennis players dropped their game and 
 looked out from between the pepper trees to see who was 
 coming. The Chinese cook put his white-capped head out 
 
THE CUSACKS. 81 
 
 of bis window. Mrs. Cusack, who was sitting in tlie 
 vei'anda, her basket of mendings beside her, talking to a 
 delicate-looking young woman wrapped in a "cloud," 
 looked up too, and hurried round to the gangway at the 
 back to receive her guests. All Australian houses are 
 a[)proached from the back. She was standing there as 
 Clare got down, a portly, good-looking woman, with a 
 fussy kindliness of manner and a gush of greetings. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! And aren't you just dead with 
 the heat ? And camping out, too ! Dr. Geneste told us. 
 Come right in and you'll have some port wine before you 
 speak a word.- And so this is the new baby ! Poor little 
 chappie — prickly heat, eh ! Oh, it's a girl, is it, Mr. Tre- 
 gaskiss ? Well, I don't know that girls aren't better than 
 boys in Australia, and easier put out in the world, and if 
 they were all only as good to their mother as my Helen ! 
 Helen, come along quick and see Mrs. Tregaskiss. You are 
 Helen's admiration, my dear. She is always talking about 
 you. Will, here's Mr. and Mrs. Tregaskiss. Call some- 
 one to see to the horses, aiui you take Mi-. Tregaskiss in 
 charge while we look after the chicks." 
 
 Mr. Cusack, in a white linen suit, a newspaper in his 
 hand, came round the veranda corner. He was a big, red- 
 faced man, pompous in manner, a brag and a bully. 
 
 " How are you, Tregaskiss ? These horses of yours look 
 pretty well done up. Congratulate you on the new baby, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss. But you don't seem the thing exactly. 
 Too much roughing it, I should say. If my wife was in 
 your shoes she'd jib, wouldn't you, Kitty ? " 
 
 Clare made a faint disclaimer. She was too tired to be 
 resentful. 
 
 " Oh, I know what roughing it means," cried Mrs. 
 Cusaek ; " and I've had plenty of it in my time, and never 
 made so little fuss over it as Mrs. Tregaskiss. I always 
 just quote your wife as a model, Mr. Tregaskiss, — so cheer- 
 ful and contented. If only all bush wives were like her, as 
 
82 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 I say to my Helen. And it isn't as if slie hadn't lived in 
 England, and didn't know what good society is ! " 
 
 At that moment Helen Cusack appeared. She ran up to 
 Clare with both hands outstretched, and yet something of 
 awe in her greeting. Her mother was right ; she admired 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss immensely. There was none in the world 
 of women, or books, so suggestive of thrilling romance. 
 The women in books were not alive, and Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 not only lived, but gained in dramatic interest from the 
 contrast she presented to her surroundings. Helen was her- 
 self quite an embodiment of youthful romance, but of this 
 she was unconscious. She was a shy, sweet, simple-minded 
 ci-eature, with a force of character not apparent on the sur- 
 face, and a tendency to idealism hardly compatible with a 
 distinctly practical side of her nature. She was excessively 
 pretty, of a gum sapling slenderness and extreme delicacy 
 of complexion, — Mrs. Cusack had never allowed her daugh- 
 ters to go out without gauze veils, — deep, clear blue eyes, 
 and brown hair that had a wave in it and was parted in tlie 
 middle. She was clever too, and talked with the bright- 
 ness and ready adaptability of the typical Australian girl ; 
 and if Mrs. Cusack had a trace of snobbism, her daughter 
 was the most perfect little lady which it was possible for 
 nature to produce. Clare looked at her with a quickened 
 interest. An impulse, for which she could not account, 
 made her bend forward and kiss the young girl. "Oh, 
 was I ever j'oung and trustful and happy like that ?" she 
 tliought ; " and what will she be like when she marries and 
 has children ? " And then the next thought : "I wonder 
 if she will marry Dr. Geneste? " 
 
 Mr. Cusack made Ning indignant by flicking her cheek, 
 and asking after her friends, the blacks. A golden-haired 
 child, two years older than the Pickaninny, came and took 
 her away. Helen and her mother fussed over Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss, and Helen ran for the port wine. 
 
 " Take Mrs. Tregaskiss' hat, Minnie. You have got thin, 
 
THE CUSACKS. 83 
 
 my dear ; but never mind, you must eat a lot wliile j'ou 
 are spelling here. That's the best remedy — heaps to eat, 
 and a happy mind. Now come to your room and put 
 on a cool gown, and then we'll have a quiet chat about 
 baby." 
 
 "Any whiskey out, Kitty ? " said Mr. Cusack. "Come 
 along, Tregaskiss, and have a nip. The groom will look 
 after the things." 
 
 They took Clare into a cool, stone bedroom. Helen gave 
 her the port wine. Minnie, another golden-haired one, 
 brought in tea ; and a third blue-eyed creature a bunch 
 of roses. Presently the Cusack's nurse took possession of 
 the baby; and Ning was escorted to the bathroom, and 
 thence to the children's quarters, and was told that she 
 must on no account bother her mother till bedtime. 
 
 Clare laj' and dozed. By and by Tregaskiss came in. 
 He was cross ; his self-esteem had been wounded, and the 
 signs of prosperity at Brinda Plains irritated him. He de- 
 clared that Cusack's brag was insufferable, and that if 
 Clare had not been so " done up," and the horses so much 
 in need of a spell, he would start off on the morrow. His 
 grumblings sounded above the noise of his splashings as he 
 washed off the journey's grime. So also did those of two 
 young ladies in a veranda room on the other side, who 
 were quarrelling over a pair of curling tongs, and complain- 
 ing tliat it was a downright shame to ask girls over from 
 Ilgandah, and not warn them that there'd be " dressing 
 for dinner." 
 
 The bell clanged. Helen Cnsack tapped and entered in 
 response to Mrs. Tregaskiss' " Come in." She was already 
 dressed, and looked fresh and fair in her white gown. 
 With all her girlish simplicity, she had a certain serious- 
 ness of aspect which, combined with the purity of her 
 limpid eyes and the virginal curves of her face and form, 
 gave her something of the Madonna appearance. She wore 
 an artistic trail of allamanda blossoms, and carried some 
 
84 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 of the same flowers in lier Iiand. She thought that perhaps 
 Mrs. Tregasldss might like allamandas too, better than 
 Totty's roses, which were droopy things ; the heat had 
 withered them. And then the allamandas would go so 
 beautifully with Mrs. Tregaskiss' tawny sort of dress. 
 Wasn't that what artists would call a harmony in brown 
 and yellow? Hair and eyes and complexion and dress, 
 and that odd, old-fashioned cross Mrs. Tregaskiss always 
 wore. Oh, it had been her mother's, and were those stones 
 uncut rubies ? 
 
 She, Helen, always wondered how it was that Mrs. Tre- 
 gaskiss' dresses, and Mrs. Tregaskiss herself, seemed as if 
 they had come out of a picture. Oh, it must be delightful 
 to be so — so interesting-looking, so different from every 
 other person. 
 
 " I am not so interesting as you yourself are," said Clare 
 literall3\ 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! " Helen could say no more. 
 The comparison seemed almost sacrilegious. The elder 
 woman was a goddess who had descended to the Leura 
 from an Olympian sphere. In Helen's imagination, the 
 distinction between London society and society in Australia 
 was as that between heaven and earth. " I am onh^ a 
 stupid bush girl," she said. " You can't call me interesting 
 —in the sense that you are interesting." 
 
 " My dear, you are very clever, and you are very sweet 
 and very pretty. Isn't that being interesting ? " answered 
 Clare. " You are ever so much prettier than I ever was, 
 when I was young." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! " Helen repeated ; " that is non- 
 sense, you know. Only just before you came, Dr. Geneste 
 said " 
 
 She stopped abrnptlj^ abashed by the sudden dilating of 
 her companion's eyes as they turned upon her. And some- 
 thing which had not occurred to her before, glanced 
 through her mind in a vaguely disturbing M'ay — a thought 
 
THE CUSACKS. 8S 
 
 suggested by tlie comparison and given weight by Dr. 
 Geneste's words. 
 
 " Yes ? " asked Clare. " What did Dr. Geneste say ? " 
 
 "Oh, perliaps I ought not to repeat it ! " Helen faltered. 
 " But it is nothing to mind about, reallj'. He said that 
 you were the most beautiful woman be had ever known." 
 
 " That is very kind and flattering. Did he say anything 
 else about me ? " 
 
 "No. How could he? At least, he told me that he 
 had met you at Cedar Hill. We were looking on at the 
 tennis when you drove up, and of course I was saying 
 how much we all admired you ; and then he said that it 
 must be a trial for one so intellectual and so highly strung 
 — I think those were his words — to lead this kind of life." 
 
 Clare blushed and turned the subject with a laugh. " If 
 this kind of life means being taken care of at Brinda 
 Plains, my dear, it it very much to my liking. And am I 
 not keeping dinner waiting ? You were quite right about 
 the allamandas ; tliey go much better with my dress." 
 
 It was evident that Helen Cusack had been carrying out 
 in the drawing-room some Melbourne ideas of decoration. 
 Clare' remembered it as a comfortable, but inartistic room, 
 with the furniture stifily arranged, and few feminine pretti- 
 nesses. Helen had pulled out the piano and draped it, had 
 improvised screens, and pushed back the round table. She 
 had laid emu-mats and pelican skins upon the polished 
 cedar floor, and had put tall green things in pots at appro- 
 priate angles. The room looked full of people when Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss entered. There was the party of Cusack girls, 
 of whom Hek'n was the eldest ; and their governess. Miss 
 Lawford, pretty, and given to flirtation ; and just now at 
 the elbow of a quiet, consumptive-looking young man with 
 a clever face, whose bright eyes eagerly followed Helen 
 Cusack's every movement. Clare had heard that he was 
 in love with Helen, and had followed her up from Mel- 
 bourne. Then there was the delicate lady, still in her 
 
86 MES. TREUA8KISS. 
 
 wliite cloud, who had a sweet, bright face and laughed a 
 great deal ; and there were the girls without evening 
 dresses, whom Helen had told Clare were the Misses Ocock, 
 from one of the roughest of the small cattle-stations near 
 the township of Ilgandah. One was short and dark and 
 squarely made, with a determined, rather coarse face ; the 
 other was thin and weak, and had prominent light eyes 
 and a great deal of teeth and gum. Mrs. Ciisack was in- 
 troducing an extremely awkward bushman to the deter- 
 mined-looking one, and trying to soften the young lady's 
 discouraging reception of his uncouth bow, by the concilia- 
 tory remark : 
 
 " Oh, dear, no, Miss Ocock ! You mustn't think that 
 Mr. Wilmett wanted to run away when Mr. Cusack offered 
 to introduce him to you at the races. I am sure Mr. 
 Wilmett never ran away from a pretty girl. Anyliow, 
 you must wait till after dinner, and give him a dance, 
 and let him explain himself. We always dance after din- 
 ner, Mrs. Tregaskiss, when it isn't too hot, for the sake of 
 the young people and to teach the boys — the unbroken 
 colts, Mr. Cusack calls them. Here's one unbroken colt. 
 Martin, come and shake hands with Mrs. Tregaskiss. And 
 there's another ! Harry, make your bow. Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 is used to the best English manners, you know. Do you 
 hear that, Mr. Blanchard ? You ought to be delighted. 
 Mr. Blanchard is our last new chum, and he hasn't got 
 used yet to our rough ways. But we mustn't offend him 
 by saying he is a new chum. He likes best being called 
 Bishop — Bishop Blanchard. That's right, isn't it ? " 
 
 There was a note of asperity in Mrs. Cusack's " chaff," 
 which, for some reason not evident on the surface, — for 
 very soon Clare discovered tljat he received with indiffer- 
 ence more bludgeon-like sarcasms, — seemed to hurt the 
 Englishman keenly. She presently told herself that it 
 must be because his appearance gave point to the allusion, 
 though he seemed singularly free from small vanities. He 
 
TEE CUSACKS. 87 
 
 reminded her of Dora's Neophyte, only that he was 
 very much older, — too old, she thought, to be acting new 
 cliura, — and altogether of much more decided character 
 and personality than the young monk. It was his eyes 
 which had the same expression, and his face was of the 
 thin, ascetic type which suggests martyrdom for the sake of 
 a conviction. He was excessively handsome, and peculiarly 
 refined — the refinement of far too subtle a nature to appeal 
 to the Leura folk, who frankly owned they did not under- 
 stand him, and accordingly revenged themselves by turn- 
 ing him into a butt for their jokes. Clare came to the 
 conclusion that he was a man with a story. She learned 
 later that he had only been a very short time at Brinda 
 Plains. 
 
 She saw that he curbed his annoyance, covering it with 
 the laughing remark : " Ah, Mrs. Cusack, won't j'ou be 
 merciful ? You shouldn't always bring that unfortunate 
 episode up against me." 
 
 " He only tried to reform the bullock-drivers, Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss ! " called out Mr. Cusack, in his great, self- 
 satisfied voice. " Reproved them for swearing ; said it 
 wasn't English. Good boy, Blanchard ! But you'll have 
 to begin with tlie bosses first, — eh, Tregaskiss ? I heard 
 you let out a good round one at Tommy George a few 
 minutes ago. You'll have the bishop down upon you if 
 you don't take care." 
 
 At Tregaskiss' guffaw " the bishop " retreated into the 
 background and began talking to one of the other new 
 chums. There were always two or three young men at 
 Brinda Plains learning colonial experience, and contrib 
 uting, by the premium they paid, to Mr. Cusack's income. 
 On the whole, they found an agreeable home, notwith- 
 standing the tendency of the " unbroken colts " to practi- 
 cal joking, and the snubbings administered by the heads 
 of the establishment on show of any airs of superioritj'. 
 Mrs, Cusack was kind-hearted, if a little dictatorial, and, 
 
88 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 moreover, slie was the matchmaker of the district, and in 
 pursuing this mission made her house a gay social centre. 
 
 The room was dim. Australian twilight quickly merges 
 into darkness, and the shadow of a stand of calladiums 
 obscured the near distance ; yet Clare had, as she entered, 
 the flashing consciousness of a thin, muscular form, a fal- 
 con face, and an alert glance in her direction ; and now 
 that Mr. Blanchard retired into the background, Geneste 
 emerged from his station among a knot of men, of whom 
 Tregaskiss was one, who were collected round the host. 
 
 " Dr. Geneste tells me he met you at Cedar Hill," went 
 on Mrs. Cusack. She rarely for a moment stopped talk- 
 ing. " Seems so funny, doesn't it, to call a squatter neigh- 
 bour ' doctor ' ? The only doctor I've known well on the 
 Leura was a German one, who used to recite to us what he 
 called ' The Rah-ven,' and who borrowed fifty pounds 
 from "Will, that he never paid back. He wasn't a doctor 
 really — only a sort of school one. But Dr. Geneste is 
 everything. One knows what being a physician in good 
 practice in London means. And it's such a comfort in the 
 district, and his being so kind about looking after people, 
 too ! I am sure our storekeeper would have died if it 
 hadn't been for you." She turned to Dr. Geneste. " How 
 have you found him this afternoon ? " 
 
 "Oh, he's getting on splendidly, Mrs. Cusack ; and I 
 shan't have an excuse any longer for riding over from 
 Darra and getting a good dinner and delightful music." 
 
 Geneste shook hands with Mrs. Tregaskiss, and made a 
 commonplace apology for having pushed on before the 
 Tregaskiss buggj'. " You see I got an early start, and was 
 here two hours sooner than you. I'm glad you have taken 
 my advice. Your husband tells me you mean to spell a 
 day or two." 
 
 A white-capped maid, who was Ning's especial admira- 
 tion, announced that dinner was on the table. 
 
 " Will, look after Mrs. Tregaskiss ! " cried the hostess. 
 
THE CUSACKS. 89 
 
 "Slie's our guest of honour. Oh, no, we won't go arm in 
 arm ; that's not bush fashion. Come along to my end, 
 Mr. Tregaslciss, and help me with tlie carving. I advise 
 you to stick to Helen, Dr. Geneste. She'll see that the 
 boys don't victimise you." 
 
 It was a pleasant, noisy meal. The delicate lady on 
 Mr. Cusack's other side chattered with a vivacity that was 
 only checked now and then by a little dry cough, which 
 she declared was a crumb gone tlie wrong way. Mrs. 
 Cusack's tongue went all the time, keeping her end of the 
 table lively. Miss Ocock had melted to her shy escoit, and 
 the thin girl found plenty to say to Mr. Blanchard in the 
 shape of " chaff " about his English fastidiousness. " Was 
 it true that he took his razors with him when he went 
 camping out, and was he really so dreadfully clever and 
 superior, and did he look down upon all Australians," 
 etc. ? The young man from Melbourne Lad deserted the 
 governess and was on Helen's left hand, and Miss Lawford 
 had consoled herself with the land commissioner, a sedate 
 and stolid person, who had been lately left a widower, and 
 was, report said, on the lookout for a second wife. Miss 
 Lawford might be described as a crude Australian edition 
 of Becky Sharp in the Jos Sedley epoch, and was open 
 to the offer of any matrimonial establishment on the basis 
 of an income exceeding two hundred a year, though she 
 continually spoiled her chances by too daring flirtations. 
 Mr. Cusack discoursed upon his new artesian bore and the 
 perfect management. 
 
 " But when you've got to do with a big place like 
 Tregaskiss', with your thirty thousand sheep to shear, it 
 doesn't do not to have everything tip-top. Of course, on 
 a little cattle-station it don't matter so much, as I tell 
 Tregaskiss." 
 
 Mr. Cusack's patronage and brag had the effect of irri- 
 tating Tregaskiss beyond measure and of intensifying 
 Clare's rather haushtv reserve. 
 
90 MES. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " How anybody can care about that woman beats nie," 
 Mr. Cusack declared to the land commissioner later. " A 
 black gin from tbe camp would be a deuced sight better 
 company." To which the commissioner, who did not like 
 Cusack, and meant to assess him as heavily as justice per- 
 mitted, quoted the opinion of Cyrus Chance, the miser 
 millionaire, that there was none in the district fit to hold 
 a candle to Keith Tregaskiss' wife. 
 
 Dr. Geneste was on one side of Helen, and the young 
 man from Melbourne got short and preoccupied replies to 
 his eager remarks. Geneste and Helen seemed excellent 
 friends, though it might have struck a close observer that 
 at the beginning of the meal both wei-e labouring under a 
 slight embarrassment. But this wore oif, on his side, at 
 any rate. He talked to her about some books he had lent 
 her, and led her on to the asking of questions and to the 
 giving of her opinion upon them, which she did with a 
 shy deference that must have been very taking. The atti- 
 tude of preceptor to a charming girl is one which, from 
 Abelard to the Nouvelle Heloise, has had its delights and 
 its dangers. Geneste was twenty years older than Helen, 
 and, moreover, was a man who had in his time stood out 
 among men of abilities beyond the average. It was quite 
 natural that Helen should regard him as a superior being. 
 
 The younger ones of the party went out after dinner 
 and strolled about the garden, while the older gentlemen 
 settled themselves in squatters' chairs in the veranda and 
 smoked. Mrs. Cusack went with Clare Tregaskiss to see 
 the baby. At dessert the company had been reinforced 
 from the bachelors' quarters by one or two stray men, and 
 the secretary of the Pastoralist Committee, who had 
 ridden over from Ilgandah to convene a meeting for the 
 discussion of precautionary measures against the threat- 
 ened labour strike. Dessert, however, was mainly eaten 
 out of doors. 
 
 The moon was just two nights older than when it had 
 
THE CUSACKS. 91 
 
 illumined Dr. Goncste's ride and inspired bis reflections 
 between Cedar Hill and The Grave, and it gave suflicient 
 light for the distinguishing of ripe strawberry guavas, 
 passion fruit, and Cape mulberries just coming into season. 
 Geneste and Helen presently found themselves separated 
 from the rest — the result of innocent tendency on the part 
 of the girl and of deliberate design on that of her gov- 
 erness. Miss Lawford had made a compact with herself 
 to forego all attempt at flirtation with Geneste, and to 
 further as far as lay in her power an understanding 
 between the two. Helen, she guessed, was quite prepared 
 to adore Geneste ; nothing could be more natural than 
 that Geneste sliould admire Helen, and she herself would 
 find her matrimonial operations much facilitated by a 
 removal from the scene of this too attractive young lady 
 of the house. Miss Lawford scented crisis in the meeting 
 this evening ; and she was not wrong in her suspicion. 
 On the occasion of Geneste's last visit to Brinda Plains 
 there had passed between him and Helen that of which, 
 ever since, the girl had never for one moment been 
 unconscious. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 RETROSPECTIVE. 
 
 Yet the episode liad been a nothing, counted in the life 
 of any ordinary young woman. 
 
 The night had been just such an one as this, only that 
 there was a fuller moon and the stars were paler diamonds 
 in space. And they two had gone out after dinner and 
 liad made for the passion-vine trellis — where they were 
 standing now — to see if any fruit were ripe yet. The 
 fruit had not been nearly ready to gather ; the green eggs 
 were only faintly purpling, but Geneste had been at pains 
 to discover one which, in the moonlight at least, gave 
 promise of sweetness. 
 
 " 'JVy it," he said. 
 
 Helen bit into the rind with her pretty white teeth, 
 slightly pointed in front like those of a rodent. It 
 occurred to him at the moment to wonder whether, ascend- 
 ing to certain physiognomical theories, this peculiarity 
 suggested a subtler side of her nature than appeared under 
 tlie Madonna-like placidity of her expression. He remem- 
 bered having read somewhere that the feature was sup- 
 posed to be symptomatic of tenacitj^ of purpose and of the 
 affections. The trellis from which he had gathered the 
 passion fruit overshadowed a bank against which a seat 
 was placed, so that the turfed bank made a sort of cushion 
 to the bench. The vine was planted in a bed at a higher 
 level, from which the bank sloped, and tapestried the wall 
 of a gardener's hut, spreading out as a roof to a roughly 
 constructed veranda. The hut was now used as a fern 
 house and was entered at the opposite side. Helen and 
 
 92 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 93 
 
 Geneste sat down on the bench — Mrs. Cusack called it her 
 "lover's seat," and used to boast of the number of engage- 
 ments which had been concluded on the spot. Helen toyed 
 with the fruit, caressing it softly with her lips before she 
 bit it. Geneste still watched her and thought how pretty 
 she was and how tender. There was an unconscious 
 coquetry in her action, which troubled and stirred him. 
 The rind was acrid ; she made a little wry face and threw 
 tlie fruit away. 
 
 " It's not ripe yet. Poor thing ! What a pity to 
 gather it. Now it's dead and done for ; it's bleeding 
 away." She pointed to the pale purplish juice which 
 exuded from the skin. " And I have killed it." 
 
 " Happy passion fruit ! It has died in the flush of 
 promise by a kiss from a woman's lips." 
 
 " A cruel kiss ! " 
 
 " I am not sure — I think I envy the passion fruit. Imag- 
 ine the rapturous expectancy as your breath ruffled its 
 down, and the thrill when your mouth pressed against it — 
 presuming, of course, that a passion fruit is capable of emo- 
 tion, and, anyhow, its name justifies the fancy. And then 
 the accessories : moonlight, the scent of tropical flowers, 
 tlie silence and sweetness of the garden ; and, above all, 
 the death-dealer — a girl, a kiss ! One couldn't conceive a 
 more poetic euthanasia. How much better than to outlive 
 hope, enjoyment, and romance, and then to die by degrees 
 of old age and apathy." 
 
 " What a strange idea to come into your head. I didn't 
 think men ever had notions of that kind." 
 
 " Don't you ever have notions of that kind ? " 
 
 "Yes ; oh, of course. I am quite silly about growing 
 things. I always fancy that they have life." 
 
 " Of course they have life." 
 
 "I mean that they really feel." 
 
 " Naturally they do. They have nerves and digestions 
 and sensations, and they love and hate and are sympa- 
 
94 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 tlietic with some human beings and antipathetic to 
 others." 
 
 " How do you mean ? Not really ! " 
 
 "Yes. Haven't you noticed that when you and Miss 
 Lawford gather roses and verbena and put them into your 
 waistbands at the same time, hers are drooping and 
 wretched an liour later, while yours are fresh and well- 
 satisfied. Your atmosphere is sympathetic to them. Hers 
 is not." 
 
 " I had never thought of that. But I have noticed that 
 her flowers always droop when she has worn them a short 
 time. How observant you are." 
 
 "I should have been a poor doctor if I had not trained 
 myself to observe." 
 
 " Poor things ! Yes, I think the flowers do like me," 
 Helen said, with a little laugh. " I can't bear to throw them 
 away, I always have the feeling that they suffer. Nothing 
 can be more dreadful, as you say, than the slow withering 
 up of sap and sweetness. I like to burn the poor dears, 
 
 or else bury them. I should like " She paused and 
 
 looked whimsically at the passion-fi-uit in her hand. " I 
 should like to bury this poor thing." 
 
 " By all means. The sentiment does you credit. Let 
 us give the passion fruit honourable interment." 
 
 He spoke nervously, looking at her very fixedly as he did 
 so. She blushed deeply under his gaze, and both tried to 
 liide their embarrassment beneath an affectation of gaiety. 
 Helen bent backward toward the flower bed, which sloped 
 to a level with her shoulders, and lifting her arms in a 
 particularly graceful attitude, scooped a hole in the eartli, 
 with a stick she picked up, and then she wrapped the fruit 
 in one of its own green leaves and laid it in the hole, 
 smoothing the mould as carefully as if she had been Ning 
 burying her doll — Ning, by the way, had a graveyard of 
 defunct pets. After that slie gathered some tiny twigs 
 and broke them into pieces, making with them a fence to 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 95 
 
 tlie miniature grave. All the time liis gaze was on her 
 face. Presently she turned to him and surprised his eyes, 
 which had an expression in them she had never seen there 
 before. It gave her a feeling of extreme happiness, and 
 at the same time of extreme shyness. She drew back a 
 little and held up her hands, palms upward, with a gesture 
 that appealed to him in a degree upon which she had cer- 
 tainly not calculated, nor indeed he either. 
 
 " I've got prickles in my finger. There must be a 
 prickly pear plant up there." 
 
 He took the two hands in his. " Which is it ? " 
 
 " This one. Do you think me dreadfully stupid and 
 babj'ish ? Fancy digging a grave for a passion fruit ! 
 But it can't be trodden upon and squashed to pieces now, 
 poor dear! and it deserves that much after the pretty 
 things you said about it. But — do you think I am 
 babyish ? " 
 
 " I think you are " His voice shook and the last 
 
 word was spoken so low that she could not be certain 
 what it was ; she fancied that he said "adorable." Pres- 
 ently he said more loudly, but scarcely with more steadi- 
 ness : " When I see you as you are to-night, you make me 
 wish " 
 
 " Wish ? Tell me what." 
 
 " You make me wish that I were ten — fifteen years 
 younger ; different altogether from what I am ; and that 
 I could dare " 
 
 Her hand fluttered in his like a little bird. He lifted it 
 to his lips and kissed the finger which had prickles in it 
 very tenderly and with self-restraint. 
 
 " Does it hurt now ! " 
 
 " No. It didn't hurt. Dr. Geneste, I'm not a little 
 child. Why do you wish that — that " 
 
 " That I could dare Do you want to know what ? 
 
 I mean this ! " 
 
 He put her hand down, and moved by a passionate 
 
96 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 impulse which for the moment mastered him, cauglit her 
 in his arras and pressed an eager kiss upon her lips. He 
 repented and was ashamed of the impulse as soon as he 
 had yielded to it. The cool touch of her childish mouth 
 had the effect of sobering him. And then, as she leaned 
 back with upturned head against his arms in the innocent 
 abandonment of her trust and joy, the look upon her face 
 almost frightened him. It told him the truth so plain. 
 It made him realise, with a stinging sense of remorse, what 
 he had done, and with a more selfish enlightenment, in 
 what kind of position he had involved himself — a position 
 from which he might find a difliculty in honourably retreat- 
 ing. It made him pull himself up shortly and sharply and 
 ask of his reason : " Do I or do I not want to marry this 
 girl?" 
 
 There had always been in Geneste's character a curious 
 blending of impulse and deliberation. Though feeling 
 might hurry him to the very verge of crisis he was able to 
 bold himself sufficiently in check to look across and cal- 
 culate consequences before taking the leap. In a flash he 
 saw, now, consequences that must follow upon that unpre- 
 meditated kiss, and determined to save himself and at least 
 secure time for reflection. He was moved, too, by a 
 chivalrous consideration, late though it came, for the girl 
 herself. He was not self-indulgent at the cost of injury 
 to others, and though he was in a manner weak, his moral 
 code was a clearly defined one. He knew tliat he did not 
 love Helen Cusack, though his fancy had been greatly 
 attracted by her sweetness and prettiness, and had even 
 dangled round the notion of her as his wife. He knew 
 that she might get something far better than the luke- 
 warm passion, alternating with calm affection, which was 
 all that he could give her. It would hardly be fair, even 
 supposing that he really desired her, to take advantage of 
 a child's ignorant first love and chain lier j'outh, her hopes, 
 her latent capacities for the deepest emotion to a man old 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 97 
 
 enough to be her father. His resolution was taken. He 
 unwound his arms very gently, took her two hands in his, 
 drawing slightly away from her. Then he bent again and 
 quite quietly imprinted a second and more chastened kiss 
 upon her forehead. It was a token of apology and of 
 regret. Then he released her altogether and got up, stand- 
 ing as a suppliant craving pardon. 
 
 " Oil, forgive me ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Helen had rightly interpreted his action. She shrank to 
 the corner of the bench, and sat huddled up and with head 
 downcast. For several moments she remained quite silent. 
 
 " Won't you forgive me?" he said again, in low pained 
 tones. " I don't know how to excuse myself or to ask 
 your pardon. I can't tell how I came to do it. It's years 
 since I had — that sort of feeling toward a woman. I 
 can't account for the sudden temptation to tell you — like 
 that — that you are very dear to me. I suppose, as a matter 
 of fact, it takes a man a long time to grow quite out of 
 the feelings of youth and to keep from overstepping the 
 line he had in sober judgment marked out for himself 
 between friendship and anything warmer. I am myself 
 now ; I will never offend again." 
 
 Still Helen said nothing. Her silence distressed and per- 
 plexed him. 
 
 " Miss Cusack, I don't think that if you could see into 
 my heart you'd be so angry with me ; and you wouldn't 
 look upon the thing perhaps quite in the same light as if 
 it had been a young man who had taken such a liberty. I 
 am twenty-five years older than you are. Oh, you must 
 know that I couldn't honour you or feel more tenderly for 
 you if you were my sister — or my daughter. You do 
 know that. Won't you try and forget the folly of a 
 moment and let me show you in future that I can deserve 
 your friendship ? Say you forgive me." 
 
 " The folly of a moment ! " His words fell like the cut 
 of a lash on Helen Cusack's heart. That was what he 
 
08 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 called it. For her it had been a moment of bewildered 
 ecstasy. She had met his lips in frank, full confidence. 
 And now he wanted to show her that slie mustn't make 
 too much of what had been only a passing attraction 
 toward a girl who had looked pretty in the moonlight 
 and who had encouraged him by an exhibition of silly senti- 
 ment. She had been caught in a whirl — taken off her 
 feet, as it were, and now though his tone had wounded 
 her, and in a sense brought her back to common earth, she 
 was hardly able to define her own feelings or to realise 
 the exact position as regarded his toward her. There was 
 at least the joy of having heard him say that she was very 
 dear to him, mingled, though it was, with the dread that in 
 realitj'- he despised her. Helen was a proud girl and a 
 brave one, too. At his last appeal she got up from the 
 bench and, with a dignity that touched him deeply, held 
 out her hand. 
 
 " Please don't say anything more. I think I understand. 
 I am glad — that you — like me. Don't you think that we 
 had better go back now? Father will be wanting me to 
 play to him." 
 
 But it had been quite half an hour after their re-entrance 
 before she had taken her place at the piano ; and from that 
 night there had come a look into her face and a note into 
 her voice when she sang which had never been there 
 before. Slie had not seen Geneste since then, until 
 to-night ; he had gone away early the next morning, and 
 on the occasion when he had come over to tend the store- 
 keeper, who was down with Northern fever, she had been 
 away on a visit to the Ocooks. But he had left her a 
 packet of books, and a letter which was respectfully cor- 
 dial, with, to her intelligence only, an underlying note of 
 contrition. Mrs. Cusack read the letter and was faintly 
 perplexed by its tone ; she was also a little puzzled by a 
 certain change which she noticed in her daughter, but 
 oddly enough, matchmaker for the district as she was, it 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 99 
 
 never ocoiirred to lier that there might be any sort of 
 flirtation going on between Geneste and Helen. In any 
 case it was her way to let affairs of that kind take their 
 course where her own family was concerned. Like a 
 great many Australian mothers, she was indifferent in the 
 matter of her daughter's matrimonial prospects ; she felt 
 certain that Helen would marry well some time, and was 
 not disposed to hasten or retard the event. 
 
 It was this episode which both Helen and Geneste had 
 vividly in their minds when to-night they found them- 
 selves alone under the passion-fruit trellis. Tliis was the 
 natural after-dinner resort. Helen had gone there in the 
 company of Harold Gillespie, her Melbourne admirer, and 
 had not been aware that Dr. Geneste was of the party till 
 Miss Lawford, darting forward, had forcibly carried off 
 Gillespie, and Helen, lingering for a few moments in senti- 
 mental reverie, had turned and come face to face with the 
 man who filled her thoughts. 
 
 "Mrs. Cusack told me to bring up some passion fruit 
 for Mrs. Tregaskiss," he said, with apparent unconcern ; 
 " but I am quite sure that she would like guavas better, 
 and that sli? would rather gather them herself." 
 
 " Won't you go and bring her along, then ? " said Helen, 
 trying also to seem at ease. 
 
 "I can't. She and j^our mother have gone to put the 
 baby to bed." He stood by the bench as if waiting for 
 Helen to seat herself. "Let me find some ripe ones for 
 you. Miss Cusack." 
 
 She sat down, and he reached up to where the purple 
 fruit hung from the leafy roof, and plucked half a dozen, 
 which he laid on the bench beside her. "They are quite 
 ripe now," he said. 
 
 She did not answer. The fruit lay unnoticed. He took 
 his place by her side, and as she leaned back sideways in 
 something of the attitude which had so roused his admi- 
 ration on the last time they had sat in this spot, his eyes, 
 
100 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 by unconscious association, wandered past her to the tiny 
 mound, still fenced in by the twigs she had placed round 
 it. One or two of them had been blown down, and he 
 stuck them upright again. Helen gave an involuntary 
 shudder. 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " she said. 
 
 "Why? Is the memory so hateful to you? Helen, 
 haven't you really forgiven me ? May we not be friends ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it is not easy to forget, Dr. Geneste,— things 
 that— hurt." 
 
 " Well, then, why forget them ? Only instead of a pain 
 let the recollection become a pleasure. May we not 
 remember that — which passed between us as a pledge 
 from me to you of sincere affection, of loyal friendship ? 
 Surely it would not be a pain to think of me as your 
 friend ? You can't help my being that, whether you like 
 it or not. I shall never change in my feelings toward 
 you." 
 
 " Ah ! " Helen gave a quick drawing in of her breath, 
 her manner altered completely, and became quite composed, 
 almost hard. " How do you feel toward me ? I wish to 
 know. Tell me exactly, please, Dr. Geneste, how you 
 think of me?" 
 
 He looked at her a little surprised by her question. 
 The utter frankness of the Australian girl was as yet to 
 him an uncalculated quantity. He did, however, in Helen's 
 case, recognise the fact that frankness was the outcome of 
 fearless innocence and also of self-respect. He began 
 indeed to wonder whether he had rightly described her to 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss as " not complex." 
 
 "lam afraid," he said hesitatingly, "that if I were to 
 answer you truthfully you might think I was assuming what 
 I have no right to assume. In fact, you might misunder- 
 stand my estimate of" — he hesitated — "of my influence 
 over you — of our relations toward each other." 
 
 " No, I should not misunderstand you. I am giving you 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 101 
 
 credit for being — loyal — in j^our thoughts of me. You 
 know quite well that I look up to you, and that I — like 
 you." She made little qualifying pauses. "Of course I 
 couldn't say such a tiling to — Mr. Gillespie, for instance, 
 or anybody else that I know. I shouldn't say it if you 
 hadn't told me tliat I was — dear to you. I'm treating you 
 like a friend, and I'm trusting you. If people are to be 
 friends, there shouldn't be any false pride between them, 
 to prevent their speaking out to each other in what con- 
 cerns their friendship." 
 
 "That is noble of you, and I take you at your word. 
 Tliank you, Helen — I may call you Helen, just for to-night, 
 mayn't I?" 
 
 "Tell me, then," she said again, " exactly how you think 
 of me." 
 
 " I think of you as the purest and sweetest and truest 
 girl I have ever known. I think of you so much and so 
 tenderly that if I were of a different nature and the con- 
 ditions other tlian thej"^ are " 
 
 " The conditions ? " she interrupted. " What are 
 they ? " 
 
 " I am an old man — even for my years, and those are 
 three parts of an average lifetime. And I am a battered 
 cripple into the bargain." 
 
 " Oh, that ! " she said impatiently. " Your age ! What 
 does it matter ? " 
 
 "It matters everything. You are eighteen. I am forty- 
 five. Twenty-seven years between us. That means a 
 chasm across which it is just possible for us now to clasp 
 hands ; but ten years hence the gulf would have widened 
 beyond the faintest hope of real contact between us." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " What more can I say without seeming a conceited 
 fool?" 
 
 " Xever mind^that. I should not look upon you so ; and 
 there is none else to mind about. I dare say you might 
 
102 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 think rae a forward, unmaidenly young woman if you 
 judged me like anybody else, but it wouldn't be true. I 
 feel in my heart it would not, and I don't care for any- 
 thing that merely ' seems.' " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," he exclaimed earnestly, " such a 
 notion could never for an instant cross my mind. What 
 could I feel but reverence, admiration, for you — for your 
 generosity, your candour. What could I feel but the 
 deepest sense of personal unworthiness ? Oh, forgive me, 
 Miss Cusack ! Indeed, I don't know how to make it all 
 clear to you." 
 
 " Never mind, let it be," she said again. " You have 
 been telling me about ' conditions.' But you said, too, 
 that if your nature were different. What did you mean -by 
 that ? " 
 
 He hesitated again before answering. " Well, I will 
 try to explain, but it is difficult. I am conscious that my 
 nature is one which grasps at the fullest, the richest of its 
 kind that life can give. In emotion, sensation, I want the 
 most exquisite — or nothing. I could put aside the desire 
 for love — love in its most real sense. I think I might 
 deliberately choose for myself, as most fitting and satisfy- 
 ing, a calm interest and affection, — if I could consider that 
 fair — to another." He spoke haltingly. " But if it were to 
 be a question of love, that love must be the most complete, 
 to ensure happiness ; the most absorbing that there could 
 be in the world. It must be perfect sympathy, perfect pas- 
 sion, community of mind and feeling, such as could exist only 
 between a man and woman on the same platform as regards 
 experience, or one should say, capacity of experience. That's 
 impossible where there is a great difference in age. If you 
 and I stood in such relation, — I speak boldlj^, — we should 
 both be in a false position. I should be disappointed, 
 however unreasonably ; and far worse, I should disappoint 
 the woman I wished to make happy. The end would be 
 bitterness. In short if I were married to j'ou, Helen, — I say 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 103 
 
 it out, — you would not be my wife in the real sense ; nor 
 would you be the dear girl-comrade whose thoughts and 
 ways are so full of charm, and whose companionship is 
 such a deliglit to me. Don't be offended at my frankness." 
 
 " I am not in the least offended. Is it not what I asked 
 you for ? " she replied gravely. " Only there is one thing 
 I should like to say. You speak to uie and of me as if I 
 were a child out of the playroom. That's what j'ou have 
 labelled me in your fancy ; and you dangle dolls before 
 me and wrap up my powder in jam. I want to say that I 
 am not a child ; and that if you really seriously reflected 
 about me, you would know from the fact of my talking to 
 you as I am talking now, that I am a woman who can 
 think as well as feel." 
 
 " You are giving me new revelations of your character, 
 and I believe that you are right," he said. " That is one 
 of tlie unexpected speeches you sometimes bring out, 
 which make your mind a pleasure and, in part, a mystery to 
 me ; which make me afraid, and ashamed, too, of the feeling 
 I have for you at moments — moments like that one for 
 which I have begged your forgiveness." 
 
 " You mean that at such moments, you are — almost — in 
 love with me. 
 
 " Yes," be said, in a low voice ; " as you would under- 
 stand it." 
 
 " But not in love with me enough to make you want to 
 many me ? Tell me, is that so ? " 
 
 " Since you will have the truth — as far as I know it, that 
 is so. Helen, you put me into an ungracious position by 
 forcing me to speak so plainly. ^Vhat riglit have I to 
 suppose that you would care to marry me ? It is presump- 
 tion on my part." 
 
 "I told you what I thought about that; and I don't 
 tlilnk you have acted quite as if you thought it presump- 
 tion," she said sadly, with a touch of irony that gave him 
 a sense of humiliation. " What an odd talk we have had I " 
 
104 3IRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Helen went on in a different tone. " It's sometliing like 
 the Lancelot and Elaine scene, I think. Do you know, Dr. 
 Geneste, you have always seemed to me a sort of Lancelot." 
 
 He made an impatient gesture. " I am not in the faint- 
 est degree like Elaine's Lancelot," he said, with a laugh, 
 " except in the being ' marred and more than twice her 
 years ' — any more than you are like Elaine, except in your 
 youth and your fairness. And then there's one immense 
 dissimilarity." 
 
 " You have no Guinevere — yet," she put in directly. 
 " Was there ever a Guinevere ? Will you show me that I 
 am your friend, and tell me, frankly, if there was ever a 
 Guinevere ?" 
 
 " Yes." lie spoke jerkil^^. " There was once a woman, 
 — she was not a Guinevere, for she was free, — and she was 
 bad ; now she is dead, in as far as I am concerned with 
 her." 
 
 Helen got up, and, as she did so, he also rose mechani- 
 cally. She held out her hand and he clasped it. " Now I 
 know that we are friends. Dr. Geneste, will you give me 
 one more proof of j^our friendship. Will you make me a 
 promise ? " 
 
 " ^Yliat is it ? " he said uneasily. 
 
 " Will you promise me that if there should ever again 
 — ever be a — Guinevere, you will tell me ?" 
 
 He did not answer for a moment. She made as though 
 she would withdraw her hand. He clasped it tighter and 
 said : " Yes, I promise. But that will never be." 
 
 " If it is, you will tell me. And then — then No, 
 
 we won't call her a Guinevere, for I couldn't M'ish you 
 happiness, could I ? I could only — onlj' " 
 
 " Only what ? " he asked. 
 
 " I could only pray for you," she said very gravely, " and 
 that. I would do with my whole soul." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 The furnituve was pushed back in the drawing-room, 
 and tliey liad begun dancing when Helen and Geneste 
 reached tlie liouse. Mrs. Cusack was at the piano. She 
 played with an energy and empliasis wliich seemed to say 
 tliat her mission in life, during the evenings at any rate, 
 was to provide a metronomical accompaniment to the 
 capers of lier young folk. Her music could hardly be 
 called anything but a measure of time. She looked up 
 and nodded as Geneste appeared. 
 
 " Putting the unbrolcen colts through their paces, j'ou 
 see ! No use, I suppose, telling you to find a partner. 
 But you can go and talk to Mrs. Tregaskiss on the 
 veranda. She doesn't condescend to our bush amuse- 
 ments." 
 
 There was some acidity in Mrs. Cusack's tone. She was 
 vexed because Mrs. Tregaskiss had declined to polka with 
 her Martin. Martin was now consoling himself with the 
 youngest Miss Ocock. He was an ungainly youth, all 
 legs and arms, and with much of his father's self-impor- 
 tance. The Pastoralist committeeman and Miss Lawford 
 were jigging from side to side, while the land commis- 
 sioner looked on with melancholy interest from a doorway. 
 He was not quite sure whether Miss Lawford attracted 
 or repelled him. He had begun to think that, at any rate, 
 as a wife, she would " keep him up to the mark." She 
 was a young lady of catholic tendencies in the matter of 
 flirtation, and now ran up to Tregaskiss, who was looking 
 on too. 
 
 " You must take a turn with me, Mr. Tregaskiss. I 
 
 105 
 
106 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 know that you dance beautifully, and, of course, you must 
 have gone to heaps of balls when you were in England. 
 Do, Mrs. Cusack, let us have a waltz." 
 
 " Ob, hang it ! Miss Lawford, I'tn too old and too fat, 
 and a married man besides," laughed Tregaskiss, in liis 
 hoarse way. But he was flattered, and, with a little more 
 persuasion, put his arm around the governess' waist and 
 steered her off to Mrs. Cusack's somewhat soulless strains. 
 Young Gillespie approached Helen. 
 
 " I've been waiting for you." 
 
 " I don't believe you ought to dance," she answered. 
 " I heard you coughing this morning." 
 
 " Oh, don't, please ! Why mayn't I be like other 
 fellows ? " 
 
 " You were sent up here for your health, you know." 
 
 " I wasn't sent. I came. And my health had nothing 
 to do with it. I came because I wanted to see yow," 
 declared the young man boldly. 
 
 " Do you think your father would have got you two 
 months' leave from the bank for that ? Besides, all that is 
 nonsense. I told you tliat you mustn't ever speak of it. 
 Come, then, let us dance." 
 
 She cut short his second attempt at a tender speech. 
 And she really liked waltzing with him. Gillespie and 
 Helen were quite the best dancers in the room. They had 
 the Melbourne step, which in Australia represents the 
 Viennese. Compared with Helen's dancing, that of Miss 
 Lawford seemed a vulgar romp. To-night she glided with 
 an unusual stateliness, and her face was grave almost to 
 sadness. Gillespie, quick to notice any change in Helen's 
 demeanour and expression, told himself that she had some- 
 how grown much older of late. There were depths in her 
 eyes and a subdued tension in her manner that suggested 
 some " experience." That was how he phrased it. In the 
 case of a young girl, " experience " means only one thing. 
 He spoke out his thought. 
 
IN THE GARDEN. 107 
 
 " I wish you'd tell me wliether it's Geneste's coming 
 that has made you different." 
 
 " Different ! I don't understand." 
 
 " You used to be so jolly and bright and up to any fun, 
 and you used to seem as if you liked talking to me. Now 
 you're always reading those books Geneste lends you, and 
 when you are not reading you are thinking, and when you 
 are not thinking you are sitting out in the garden by your- 
 self, or else with him." 
 
 "He has not been here for three weeks — three weeks 
 to-day." 
 
 " How well you remember ! Last time he was here you 
 sat out with him in the garden nearly the whole evening ; 
 and now again you have done the same to-night. And 
 when Zask you to take a turn to the lagoon, or to look at 
 the stars, or to get mulberries or guavas, or anything else 
 after dinner, you always say that you must play to your 
 father." 
 
 "I thought you liked music." 
 
 " So I do ; but I like talking to you all by myself better. 
 You know what I told you, Nell ? " 
 
 " You mustn't call me Nell. Nobody calls me Nell." 
 
 "My mother and sister and the girls in Melbourne did. 
 Here you are ' Helen,' stiff, cold Helen — Dr. Geneste's 
 Helen ; only I dare say you are not stiff and cold to him." 
 
 " Stop ! No, I don't mean stop dancing, but saying 
 things like that. If you go on, I shall never speak to you 
 again. It's impertinent and — uncalled for to couple my 
 name with other people's names." 
 
 " Geneste isn't ' other people.' Nell, tell me, tell me 
 truthfully, does he want to marry you?" 
 
 " Yes, I will tell you truthfully — that he does not want 
 to marry me." 
 
 " How strangely your voice sounds ! One might 
 
 think " 
 
 "What? Take care!" 
 8 
 
108 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Oh, dash it ! Of course it would be impertinent to 
 
 hint that you And, of course, he is a great deal too 
 
 old for you, Nell." 
 
 " Tliat is certainly true. He is twenty-five years older 
 than I am, and we are great friends and nothing else, and 
 never shall be anything else as long as we live. Is that 
 enough for you ? Now, please don't ever speak of him in 
 that way again." 
 
 " No, I won't. You've relieved my mind. You know 
 what I hope. Naturally, I have to wait till I've got my 
 step in the bank. But that's sure to come soon — with the 
 governor's interest." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course it is a grand thing to have a father 
 who is in the Ministry. But you are breaking the contract. 
 And now, I'm going to make mother let me play for a bit, 
 and you can get Miss Ocock to dance with j-ou." 
 
 " No ; I will have Minnie. She's next best to j'ou. Or 
 shall I ask Mrs. Tregaskiss — she's out in the veranda ?"; 
 
 But Mrs. Tregaskiss was not in the veranda. She had 
 strolled unnoticed along the gravel walk to the side of the 
 house where some young orange trees were in bloom, mak- 
 ing the night fragrant. A short path between the orange 
 trees led to the children's wing, where Ning was sleeping, 
 and which adjoined the room in the main building given to 
 Clare and her husband. She had a vague intention of 
 listening whether lier baby was awake, but all was silent, 
 and Claribel, the half-caste, squatted outside the French 
 window unctuously chewing a bit of sorghum and keeping 
 guard over her infant charge. The barrel-organ sound of 
 the piano sounded less aggressively here, and only scraps 
 of the bushmen's talk in the veranda, which had got npon 
 her nerves as she sat and listened to it, floated into the 
 night. 
 
 " Horse knocked out — he was in low condition, and the 
 long stage cooked him. Those beats are rolling fat. If 
 you cross Moolburra Range — track to the right — brings you 
 
IN THE GARDEN. 109 
 
 alongside of an old slieep-station. Follow the range — can't 
 miss it," and so on. 
 
 Tills was the sort of intellectual food which social even- 
 ings on the Leui-a usually furnished. At home, Clare 
 would sit and sew, and listen with a Certain dull interest, 
 because the talk had mostly to do with the business of their 
 own station, and Tregaukiss had a way of appealing to her 
 occasionally in such remarks as : 
 
 "I say, Clare, did you hear tliat ? The Gnpper has been 
 going for our clean-skins," or, " Clare, remember, will you, 
 that the men at the bore want rations, and weigh them 
 out for Tommy George to take to-morrow ?" and it would 
 happen that she got " chaffed " or scolded, according to 
 Tregaskiss' humour, if she awakened out of a dream and 
 confessed that she had not heard what had been said to 
 her. But there was no obligation to keep a mind alert to 
 cattle talk in Mr. Cusack's house. And oh, what an even- 
 ing on which to escape from everyday worries in dreams, 
 if, indeed, dreaming could bring her either satisfaction or 
 hope. Presently another sentence of the bushmen's con- 
 versation roused her and struck some chord of whimsical 
 association, though in itself it was quite unimportant, so 
 that she laughed softly to herself. 
 
 "Do you like the gardeli here, Mrs. Ti-egaskiss?" Dr. 
 Geneste said, coming quietly beside her. "It seems my 
 fate to startle you," he added, as she turned with a quick 
 movement at the sound of his Voice. " The music and the 
 insects, and those felloWs holding forth about their stations 
 and their stock, drowned my footsteps, I expect. Mrs, 
 Cusack told me to come and look after you — she said you 
 didn't care to dance." 
 
 " Oh, my dancing days are over long ago ! " Clare a,n- 
 swered. 
 
 " Why do you talk as if everything had ended for you, 
 and you were an old woman ?" 
 
 " So I am — old — old — old. Look at the plain," she went 
 
110 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 on irrelevantly. " In this light it is exactly like the sea. 
 Do you know what I was thinking, and what this garden 
 put me in mind of ? You remember the terrace at Monte 
 Carlo?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I can't imagine anything more unlike this 
 scene." 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all. There, that long stretch of plain 
 is the Mediterranean — when it is a bluey-brown colour on 
 a muggy night. That fence of prickly pear with the aloe 
 sticking up, and the pepper tree, might be the sea-parapet; 
 and the hum of the insects is very much the same, or you 
 might fancy it the murmur of the waves. And the orange 
 flowers and the bamboos, and those trellises of thumbergia 
 and allamanda, and the shrubs of scented verbena — oh, 
 don't you love scented verbena?" She gathered a sprig 
 as she spoke, and crumbled it between her fingers, inhaling 
 its perfume with a luxurious enjoyment that, as he watched 
 her, gave him a curious feeling as to a certain finely sensu- 
 ous side to her nature. " Tlien, the lights behind," she 
 went on, " and the sound of the music, of voices, and of 
 laughter, and all the rest. All that ought to be there, even 
 if one cannot find it. No, I don't think the comparison is 
 so tremendously out. Anyhow, it came into my mind." 
 
 " When were you at Monte Carlo ? " 
 
 "Years and years ago — before I was married. My poor 
 father took me one Easter to the Riviera, and we spent 
 a fortnight at Monte Carlo." 
 
 She gathered a bit of orange blossom, smelled it, and 
 tossed it awajr. " I suppose those were the daj's when I 
 had the illusions, or at least such of those as I was capable 
 of cherishing — which you said belonged to youth, love, and 
 all that. No," she added, correcting herself, " I don't 
 think that even then I was capable of imagining the sort of 
 Arcadia into which j'oung girls are supposed to enter when 
 they are first engaged. It's rather wonderful, considering 
 the conditions." 
 
IN THE GARDEN. Ill 
 
 "The conditions ! " lie repeated. "Yes, perliaps it was 
 wonderful. You were engaged to be married and your — 
 your future husband was with yon. One must conchide 
 that the conditions were favourable to romance." 
 
 She was silent for a moment. Then she said : " You are 
 saying to yourself that Mr. Tregaskiss could never have 
 been a very romantic kind of person, not the kind whom 
 one naturally associates with Monte Carlo, and music, and 
 human drama. But I was not engaged to Mr. Tregaskiss. 
 It was someone else." 
 
 " Ah ! " He wondered if he had got the clue to her tragic 
 resignation. There had been someone else. Then he 
 remembered her allusion to a lover who had deserted her 
 in the day of adversity. 
 
 "Surely if you were in such love with the man you were 
 engaged to, you must have found yourself in Arcadia, if 
 only for a short time," he said. 
 
 " I was never much in love with him," she answered 
 calmly ; " and when he left me my pride only was 
 wounded. He was handsome and fashionable, and better 
 born than I, and he only wanted me because he thought I 
 had money. It was after he threw me over that I married 
 Keith Tregaskiss. Now, do you understand ? " 
 
 '' Yes," he said quietly, " I understand. I am very sorry 
 for you, and I wish that I could help you." 
 
 " Never mind. Can you guess what I was thinking of 
 when you interrupted me just now ? " she asked abruptly. 
 
 " No, for I am sure that if I drew the commonplace 
 inference I should be wrong. And you seemed amused at 
 something." 
 
 She laughed again. "It's commonplace enough. Some- 
 body over there was saying something about a ' poley 
 cow ' that had got into the pound at Ilgandah, and had to 
 be bought out. It struck me as a great pity that all this 
 poetic setting should be wasted on such very prosaic drama 
 as the ransoming of a poley cow." 
 
il'2 MRS. "TREGASKISS. 
 
 He laughed, too, l)ut Uiieasil}'. 
 
 "You may be quite ceiitain," lie said, " tLat there's more 
 human drama going oni among those dtocers in there, thain 
 any of us suspect. Just think of poor little Miss Lawford, 
 and tlie tragedy of disappointed afEections and blighted 
 liopes which may underlie that boisterous gaiety; Think 
 of the land commissioner, whose heart is buried in his 
 wife's grave " 
 
 "No, no," she interrupted. "Miss Lawford has resur- 
 rected it." 
 
 " Well, there's something sensational in that idea,. any- 
 how. And talking of tragedy, here's one. Did you notice 
 the thin, fair woman with the very briglit colour^ whom L 
 wouldn't allow to come out into the garden after dinner,, 
 for I knew she would; be romping with the girls and exert- 
 ing herself ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Carmody ? Yes, I know all about her. The 
 bank came down on Ballandean, and her husband is just 
 allowed to carry it on on the chance of working off the 
 debt, and so thej' can't have a servant or proper hands for 
 the run, and she helps him to muster, and milks the cows,, 
 and mends and makes and toils, and teaches the children' 
 into the bargain. And, there are a lot of children ; but it's 
 a, common tragedy out here, after all, though I was think- 
 ing during dinner, Dr. Geneste, tliat Mrs. Garmody is an 
 example to me. Mrs. Cusack has got her here, for a little 
 holiday, and see how she is, enjoying it, and how g_ay and' 
 plucky and bright she is." 
 
 " I don't think yon want to have an example, j^ou are 
 one yourself to all of us. That's not the tragedy, for her 
 nature wouldn't make it one. She isn't complex, and she 
 doesn':t- soar to higher things; her children and her daily 
 round content her. The tragedy is that, the children iwant 
 her, and Garmody wants- her, and her grip on life in one 
 sense is keen, and one could as soon convince her that she 
 is blind as that she has, as I greatly fear, a disease which 
 
IN THE GARDEN. 113 
 
 may kill lier. As for Caniiody, he is just an obstinate 
 dunderhead. He won't let himself believe there is anytliing 
 the matter with her — as long as she says she is all right. 
 He laughs at me and won't even let me doctor her." 
 
 " Is she really so ill ? She doesn't look so." Clare was 
 startled. " It's consumption, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, it's something else — unless I am very much 
 deceived; and, as I tell you, her husband laughs at the 
 notion of anything serious being the matter. If you ever 
 get a chance, Mrs. Tregaskiss, you might do something 
 there. He won't let me overhaul her." 
 
 " Yes, if it is possible, I will," she answered gravely. 
 
 They walked on, talking of poor Mrs. Carmody, and 
 turned, coming presently to a point from which they could 
 see the dancers in the drawing-room. Mrs. Carmody, 
 silhouetted against the light wall, seemed to be chattering 
 eagerly. Miss Lawford was now at the piano, and Mrs. 
 Cusack was fussing about in the dining-room, where re- 
 freshments of fruit, cake, and home-made lemonade were 
 being set out. Tregaskiss was with her, and at the mo- 
 ment was pouring some spirit from the decanter and mixing- 
 it with the lemonade. Helen Cusack passed by with 
 young Gillespie. Clare looked at her companion and saw 
 tliat his eyes were following the girl. She said impul- 
 sively : " Yes, I was quite wrong. Eveiything in the 
 bush isn't prosaic. There's a bit of romance here that 
 will turn perhaps into a prettj^ love storj'." 
 
 " A love story ! " he repeated sharplj'. 
 
 " Mr. Gillespie is in love with Miss Cusack. Did you 
 not know that ? " 
 
 " It No, I confess that had not occurred to me." 
 
 " I can see all tlie elements of a hopeless passion," she 
 went on, in her soft, deliberate voice, and smiling that re- 
 pressed smile of hers, which might mean so much or so 
 little. He had an impatient fancy that she was probing 
 liiui, searching him with her long narrowed gaze, that she 
 
114 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 might discover his real feeling for Helen Cusaek. He 
 was not altogether wrong. " To me," Clare added, " Mr. 
 Gillespie looks consumptive. I should have thought him in 
 far worse case than Mrs. Carmody." 
 
 " Oh, he will got over that — just the after-effects of in- 
 fluenza. I suppose it would be a good match for her," he 
 said witli an effort. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course. Mrs. Cusaek tells me that his 
 father is Minister or Speaker — or something of the sort. 
 But you know. Dr. Geneste, tliat Helen doesn't care for 
 him — not the least little bit." 
 
 He said nothing. She persisted. 
 
 " You do know that, don't you ? " 
 
 " Why should I know it ? " 
 
 " Because Never mind." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 LIGHT ON THE TEAGEDY. 
 
 Clare stopped suddenly and resumed her walk. They 
 passed again the French window that opened into the din- 
 ing-room, and Ti'egaskiss' tones, jovial, yet with tlieir rasp- 
 ing inflexion, struck disagreeably on Geneste's ear. 
 
 " I say, Mrs. Cusack, what are we to call this splendid 
 tipple — lemonade cocktail — Brinda squash — Leura eye- 
 opener — eh, what do you think of that ? I wish you'd 
 give ray wife the receipt. The best woman in the world, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss, and, by Jove ! as good a housekeeper 
 as you'd find on the Leura ; but there's one thing she isn't 
 quite first-rate at, and that's making drinks. A fellow 
 wants something cool and refreshing and stimulating too, 
 when he comes in hot and tired from a day's mustering." 
 
 " Well, you haven't been mustering on the run to-daj', 
 Mr. Tregaskiss, though I dare say driving a buggy over 
 the plains is hot work, too, in its way." It was Mrs. 
 Cusack's cheery voice that answered, with just a faint note 
 of disapproval in it, tempered by the natural genialitj'^ of 
 the hostess. "Anyhow, I shan't allow you that excuse 
 for indulging too freely in my Leura eye-opener," and 
 there was the laugh which covers half intention in a jok- 
 ing speech. " Of course I'll be delighted to give Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss the receipt, and you'll remember it's the infu- 
 sion of herbs, — and I'll give you some of ours in case you 
 don't grow them at Wombo, — as well as a wee bit stronger 
 dash of Will's old rum than ordinary, that gives it the 
 flavour. Now, Mr. Tregaskiss, I'm just going to insist on 
 your dancing this with Minnie. After seeing yon with 
 
 115 
 
116 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 MissLawford, I can't be made believe you don't know how." 
 Tregaskiss protested he was old —too fat. Miss Law- 
 ford was so full of " go " that she'd put spirit into any 
 "crawler"; that was a woman after his own heart; lie 
 didn't mean anytliing disrespectful to Minnie, and as she 
 wasn't out of the schoolroom, he needn't mind his p's 
 and q's, but the fact was she couldn't hold a candle to her 
 governess. 
 
 Geneste watched Mrs. Tregaskiss' face while the colloquy 
 went on. Illumined by the light from the house, it wore, 
 he thought, the strangest expression — a blending of pity, 
 contempt, keen anxiety, and angry determination. She 
 had come to a dead halt, and he too had waited. Now 
 she made an impatient gesture and stepped quickly across 
 a bit of lawn intervening between where they stood and the 
 veranda. It seemed to him odd that, looking deliberately 
 in front and about her as she did, she should stumble 
 awkwardly over a croquet hoop which was quite visible — 
 a white arch on the green. She half fell, stretching out 
 her hands, and giving a cry : "Keith, oh, Keith ! " 
 
 Dr. Geneste sprang forward : 
 
 " Have you hurt yourself, Mrs. Tregaskiss ? " 
 
 He would have lifted her, but she waved him back, rais- 
 ing herself from the ground and again calling out : 
 
 " Keith, come here ! " 
 
 Her call had stopped the dancing a)id brought forth 
 Mrs. Cusack and some others from the house. Ti'egaskiss 
 followed his hostess with a lurching gait. There were 
 eager questions. Had she sprained her foot? — it was those 
 tiresome croquet hoops, which no one would remember to 
 take up ! Mrs. Tregaskiss put her arm within her hus- 
 band's. She was completely self-controlled again, and 
 spoke with rapid decision. 
 
 " I am so sorry to have made such a disturbance. Yes, 
 I think I have turned ray ankle a little. Oh, it's nothing, 
 really ! Please go on dancing and don't mind me. No, I 
 
LIGHT ON THE TRAGEDY. 117 
 
 am not in pain, tbank you. Mr. Tregaskiss will go with me 
 to my room, and we'll be back presently. Come, Keith." 
 
 Siie drew her husband with her toward th« wing which 
 was approached through the Httle orange grove. He had 
 put his arm round her and showed a sort of dull concern, 
 repeating : "What's the matter, Clave? what's the mat- 
 ter ? You aren't hurt, are you ? I say, you don't mean tliat 
 you're hurt ? " 
 
 "She seems to be walking all right," remarked Mrs, 
 C\i8ack. " I don't think it's anything serious. I know one 
 feels horrid after twisting one's foot, but it goes off in a, 
 moment or two. Do come in. Dr. Geneste. I want you to 
 look aifter Mrs. Carmody, and make Iver have some supj)er 
 and pack Iter off to bed, poor thing ! " 
 
 It was half an hour before Mrs. Tregaskiss and her hus- 
 band returned. She looked very pale and her eyes shone 
 with that repressed fire which Dr. Geneste had begun to 
 know ; but she walked easilj', declared that li«r foot did 
 not hurt her at a.11 now, and gave no sign of discomposure. 
 " Baliy had wakened, and they had been putting it to 
 sleep," she said. Tregaskiss attended to her with a half 
 sulky solicitude. He pressed her to try the " Leura eye- 
 opener," but she refused, with a gesture of dislike. Slie 
 " was not fond of the taste or sm«ll of rum." But she 
 listened with interest to Mr. Cusack's commendation of his 
 wife's concoction, begged for directions how to make it, 
 discussed, the Chinese gardener in relation to the providing 
 of those necessary herbs, and was altogether gracious and 
 almost talkative, always with the fixed, far-away smile 
 which Dr. Geneste had got to look for too, and which he 
 associated somehow with the Sphinx notion and that of pent 
 tragedy. The folding doors between the dining- and draw- 
 ing-rooms were open, and in the latter some desultory 
 music was going on. There was romping, too, among the 
 younger set — the boys, Minnie, Miss Lajw ford, and the gen- 
 tlemen from the bachelors' quarters. If Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 
118 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 suggested the Sphinx, the governess had certainly a touch 
 of the Maenad. She was excited, voluble, and eager to 
 attract notice. Her big black eyes rolled hither and 
 thither, and her white teeth flashed in continual laughter 
 from between red lips. Dr. Geneste mentally classed her 
 as of the hysterical temperament. Perhaps, he thought, she 
 was trying to pique the land commissioner into a proposal, 
 by a flirtation with Tregaskiss, upon which the presence of 
 his wife made it impossible to place an evil construction. 
 Clare's husband had sauntered into the group, and was pay- 
 ing attention to the governess with demonstrative candour. 
 One of the young men played a Highland schottische, 
 which Tregaskiss and Miss Lawford danced with fervid 
 interlacing of arms, and looks which freely incited and 
 freely gave back admiration. The dance seemed unduly 
 prolonged. Clare watched it stonily. Mrs. Cusack 
 fidgetted with annoyance. 
 
 " Realljr," she murmured crossl}', " Miss Lawford allows 
 her spirits to run away with her. I don't think I can allow 
 this kind of thing to go on. It's such a pity that she 
 should be so flighty. She teaches admirably, and when 
 there are no gentlemen about is quite sensible and well- 
 behaved, and a cheerful companion to the children. I sup- 
 pose that, as it's your husband, my dear, she thinks herself 
 safe ; but still there are limits. And then, there's my 
 Martin, I begin to see, quite ready to make a fool of him- 
 self and to be jealous of Mr. Walford or anybody else she 
 encourages." 
 
 Mr. "Walford was the land commissioner. He was stand- 
 ing in the doorway, a pained expression upon his stolid 
 face. Martin was glowering in a corner of the drawing- 
 room. Clare laughed softly. "Oh, why shouldn't they 
 enjoy themselves ? " she said. 
 
 " No, my dear ; you wouldn't approve if you had girls 
 growing up ready to follow a bad example. I hope Mr. 
 Tregaskiss won't be offended if I give him a hint." 
 
LIGHT ON THE TRAGEDY. 119 
 
 Mrs. Cusack marched determinedly forward. 
 
 " There's too much romping in here for my taste," slie 
 said. " Miss Lawford, I think we have had enough of tliat 
 noisy dance. Mr. Tregaskiss, you look quite out of breath, 
 and you'll be scandalising the bishop, you know. No, don't 
 be cross, Mr. Blanchard, I'm not going to chaff any more ; 
 you are behaving very nicely and I'm glad to see that you 
 are entertaining Miss Selina Ocock. Minnie, it's your bed- 
 time. And there's Mrs. Carraody coughing again. That's 
 right. Dr. Geneste, make her go off too. Miss Lawford, 
 you'll see Mrs. Carmody to her room and take care, please, 
 that she has everything she wants. Where's Helen ? Oh, 
 Mr. Gillespie, do go and find Helen, and get her to come 
 and play an accompaniment for Mr. Blanchard. We should 
 so enjoy one of Mr. Blanchard's nice English songs." 
 
 Mrs. Cusack fussed round setting everything to rights. 
 Mr. Blanchard came unwillingly out of the corner where 
 he had been confiding his woes to the limp Miss Ocock. 
 Helen had been talking to the secretary of the Pastoralist 
 Committee, and now came in from the veranda and sat 
 down to the piano. Mrs. Cusack, in her managing fashion, 
 settled the rest of the party in squatters' chairs and ordered 
 the gentlemen to smoke. Tregaskiss sulkily approached 
 his wife and grumbled about " confounded interference 
 just when people were beginning to enjoy themselves." 
 Tosti's " Good-bye " floated out into the fragrant night. 
 Mr. Blanchard had a good voice, and it had been fairij'- 
 trained, probably among musical sisters at home. Clare 
 used to hear that song in old days, sung by a handsome 
 professional tenor who had been in love with Gladj's 
 AVarraker. But Gladys had not cared for the tenor 
 " unutterably," as she had phrased her idea of the sacra- 
 mental passion, and had preferred to make a prudent alli- 
 ance with rich, elderly Mr. Hilditch. The memory of 
 Gladys set Clare thinking of by-gone days — of that phase 
 of her girl-life in which she had dreamed dreams, and 
 
120 MRS. TREGA8KISS. 
 
 wbicli seemei now, in contrast with the catide realities of 
 Australian life, almost like a vividly remembered fairy 
 story tliat had symbolised a spirittual truth. There was 
 only one person here whom she felt to be in harmony with 
 that sleeping inner self that had discerned truth in faiiy 
 tale. It was Geueste. 
 
 She waked out of her reverie as the -song ended. Tregas- 
 kiss had gone, Di-. Geneste was beside her. She had a 
 fancy tha-t he read her thoughts. " lam going to slip away 
 to my room," she said. "I am very tired. Will you ex- 
 plain to Mrs. Ciisack, and perhaps " She looked round. 
 
 " I don't see my husband. Perhaps you would kindly tell 
 him too, and ask him to eome to me as soon as he can." 
 
 " Certainly. I hope your foot does not hurt you ? " 
 
 " Ko, thank you." 
 
 " You did not sprain it, then? " 
 
 " No." Then she added suddenly : " There was nothing 
 at all wrong with it. Good-night ! " 
 
 She held out her hand. He took it. " Good-night, Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss ! " 
 
 She passed her husband as she moved along the veranda. 
 He was stumbling across the ledge of the dining-room 
 window, moving in rather furtive fashion. 
 
 " Keith ! " She followed him into the room. He turned 
 angrily upon her. Geneste was near enough to hear what 
 passed. 
 
 " I'm going to bed, Keith. Will you soon come along ? " 
 
 "No! Why should I? Going to have 'nother dance with 
 — little governess. Confoundedly thirsty. I saj^, where's 
 that stuff?" 
 
 He spoke thickly. Geneste admired Mrs. Tregaskiss' 
 tact and self-control. 
 
 "I think they've cleared it away. Come, never mind 
 it. If you are thirsty, there's some brandy in the flask 
 in ray room, and Claribel will run for cool water from th? 
 bag in the veranda," 
 
LIGHT ON THE TRAGEDY. 121 
 
 " You're telling me lies." Tregaskiss spoke with half 
 tipsy solemnity. " I know what it is, you want to get me 
 off ; you're jealous. I've got to have that out with you. 
 
 Jealous of the little governess ! I shan't allow any d d 
 
 prying and meddling, do you understand?" 
 
 Clare said nothing ; she did not even look at him ; it 
 seemed to Geneste that her strange smile scarcely faded ; 
 it was always there, as if carved in marble. Her whole 
 form braced itself as if stiffened with iron ; she turned 
 lier back on him and walked quickly to her own room. 
 
 "Good God!" murmured Geneste to himself. "So 
 that's the trouble ! " 
 
 He kept close to Tregaskiss for the rest of the evening ; 
 played boon companion to him ; guarded him from Mrs. 
 Cusack's sallies ; interposed suavely, when a bragging 
 speech of Mr. Cusack's threaten'ed to provoke a quarrel ; 
 deferred to Tregaskiss' opinions, silencing him by acquies- 
 cence ; sat beside him later, when the ladies had gone and 
 the pipes were refilled, and the brandy passed round ; and 
 at last conveyed him, cleverly covering the retreat by way 
 of the orange grove, to the door of Mrs. Tregaskiss' chamber. 
 
 Tregaskiss fumbled with the handle, unable to turn it. 
 Then he swore huskily and called to his wife to open. 
 When she did so he reeled against the wall and hiccoughed 
 an apology. She stood a straight, tragic figure in her 
 white dressing-gown. Not one word passed her lips. 
 She put out her hand, the thin arm, full of nervous force, 
 showing from out her loose sleeve, and drew her husband 
 into the room. When she came back to close the window, 
 slie saw Geneste. 
 
 " I thought it best to see him safe," he said. " Can I do 
 anything?" 
 
 " No ; nothing, thank you." 
 
 "You are all right ?" he asked ahxiouslJ^ 
 
 " Yes. You are very kind. Please tell me — I hope 
 there was nothing — nothing unpleasant ? " 
 
122 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " No ; it was not noticeable. We have been togetlier 
 since you left. I saw how it was — the heat, no doubt, and 
 the long drive in the sun." 
 
 " Yes. Last year he had a touch of sunstroke ; it has 
 been worse since then." 
 
 " Ah, that accounts. Don't fret about it, Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 Let us talk it over to-morrow. I may be able to do 
 something." 
 
 " No, not to-morrow. I am not fit — here — to tell you 
 things. Perhaps when you come to Mount Wombo." 
 
 There was stertorous muttering within, a groping, and 
 the sound of a dull, soft fall. Tregaskiss, fuddled with 
 drink, had flung himself, dressed as he was, heavily across 
 the bed. The baby was in a cot on the side where his head 
 lay. The inert creature was already in a state of drunken 
 torpor. 
 
 " Can't I get liim into his dressing-room ? " Geneste 
 said. The coarse, squalid reality of the situation struck 
 him with the grimmest sense of pathos. 
 
 " There's no bed there. It doesn't matter." 
 
 " But you — where are you going to sleep?" 
 
 " It doesn't matter. I shall lie on tne sofa. Please go. 
 I am afraid of baby waking." 
 
 He was reluctant. " Please go," she repeated. There 
 was nothing to be done. As he moved away, she said in 
 a very low voice, but clear in its fervour. " Thank you ! 
 I Jcnoio I can trust you." 
 
 He himself was lodged in the bachelors' quai-ters. He 
 came out again under pretence of smoking a pipe, and 
 spent half the night in the orange grove. A light burned 
 nearly all the time in Mrs. Tregaskiss' room. At last it 
 was put out, and he went away. But he lay awake till 
 morning, picturing her sitting there in her white dressing- 
 gown watching the sodden sleep of her husband, or else 
 stilling his babe and hers at her breast. It was horrible. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MOUNT -WOMBO. 
 
 Mrs. Teegaskiss was at home. Tlie home was typically 
 Australian. Imagine a clearing in gidia scrub — this, the 
 border of a greater scrub, stretching along at the back and 
 sloping upward to the low-lying range from which Mount 
 Wombo takes its name, for a very little hill becomes a moun- 
 tain in these flat lands. The scrub spread down to a plain, 
 shaping itself into ragged slips like an uneven fringe. 
 There was a lagoon at the foot of the hill, round it a few 
 bigger trees ; and some blacks were disporting themselves 
 in the water. Not very far from the lagoon stood a rough 
 stockyard, with the inevitable flock of carrion crows, and 
 the sickly growth of "fat-hen" by the milking bails. 
 Further still, set in tlie clearing, wliich has four avenues 
 debouching from it through the gidia scrub, there was a 
 low, zinc-roofed house of sawn planks, the zinc sheets 
 raised a little above an under roof of bark, — as is the 
 way in this parched land, — so the air maj"- pass between 
 and temper the scorching heat given out on summer days 
 from the glaring iron. Building-wood is scarce in the Leura 
 region, for the melancholy gidia scrubs do not provide 
 suitable material ; and labour and carriage are dear ; thus 
 sli ingles, and very often flooring-boards, are unknown lux- 
 uries. They were so in the greater part of the Tregaskiss' 
 house, the floor in most of the rooms being of a kind of 
 earthen cement made from pounded ant-beds — those min- 
 iature clay mountains along the tracks, which are a fea- 
 ture of the district. The low house had verandas, with 
 rough posts and bough-shades, covered by passion vine and 
 g 123 
 
124 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 native cucumber. To the riglit was a big room perched 
 upon piles, with a veranda all round. Under it is the 
 dairy, a battened-in corner, the rest of the space lying 
 open and used as a shelter for the station buggy, and also 
 as a workshop, with a carpenter's table and saddling tools, 
 and with saddles and harness lying about in process of 
 re-lining. The upper room had a wooden floor, — it was 
 Claire's bedroom, — and the veranda, in which were canvas 
 chairs, children's toys, and the sewing-machine in a shel- 
 tered angle, was used generally as the family sitting-room. 
 Round the house was a rough sapling fence enclosing a 
 patch of flower-garden, dependent mostly on Clare's min- 
 istrations — the Chinaman's garden, where vegetables and 
 watermelons and maize and the luzerne crop were grown, 
 being down by the lagoon, and Li Hong not concerning 
 himself about such frivolous things as flowers. But there 
 were flowers in the garden, neverthless — petunia and flox 
 and verbena and flaring gladiolas and the flame-coloured 
 bignonia ; and there were, besides, a loquat tree and 
 a Brazilian cherry, and two or three j'oung orange 
 trees. 
 
 At the back stood bark-roofed outhouses — the meat 
 store with bullock hides stretched out on the roof to dry, 
 the store, and the kitchen, which had its bough-shade too 
 — these outbuildings not trim and taut like the back prem- 
 ises at Brinda Plains, but slanting, untidy, unfenced, rank 
 brown grass growing where it would, the few stunted 
 gidias and sandal-wood left by the clearers showing scant, 
 dried-up foliage, the unlovely corrugated roofs sending 
 out a blinding glare. The kangaroo dogs yapped discon- 
 tentedly; a couple of black gins, their pickaninnies playing 
 close by, were peeling potatoes in the open and scattering 
 the shavings to a brood of lean fowls. N"o, there was 
 nothing poetic, nothing picturesque, about Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss' home. 
 
 A fit of repentance and of reactionary good humour had 
 
MOUNT AVOMBO. 125 
 
 followed Tregaskiss' excess at Briiicla Plains. Clare had 
 met the situation stoically, and while their visit lasted, 
 ignored the possibility of its having been grasped by the 
 Cusacks. But her huiniliation was intense. She showed 
 herself to be not a great woman in her susceptibility to 
 the stabs of wounded pride. To be pitied by the common 
 herd was gall to her ; the baring of her secret wounds, 
 agony. Siie avoided Dr. Geneste, — he left the next after- 
 noon, — but something iu her eyes and voice, when she 
 " hoped that they should see him soon at Mount Wombo," 
 told him that her confidence was but delayed. She did 
 not resent his knowledge of her trouble, but she bitterly 
 and unreasonably resented what she saw to be Helen's 
 instinctive understanding of it and sympathy with herself. 
 Helen hung on all day to Mrs. Tregaskiss, and longed to 
 tell her of her admiration and how sorry she was for her, 
 and that she despised Keith Tregaskiss, and hated Miss 
 Lawford for having drawn him on to make a fool of him- 
 self. Helen was so sad herself just now, that it seemed 
 appropriate for her to sympathise with another sad woman. 
 Reflections on Mrs. Tregaskiss' position led her into seri- 
 ous thoughts on marriage in general. She had had one 
 passionate impulse of pique prompting her to engage her- 
 self to Harold Gillespie, and thus prove to Dr. Geneste 
 that there was at least another man who valued her. But 
 the impulse did not last. She acknowledged that her 
 Lancelot was not impeccable ; he had had no right to 
 play with her, to take her iu his arms and let her, for an 
 instant, believe that he loved her. But, at all events, he 
 had been true and frank to her that evening; and his 
 friendship and respect were something still to live for. 
 Better love on even " in vain," her nature ennobled by a 
 real emotion, than debase herself to the level of a — Miss 
 Lawford ! For the moment she spent her contempt and 
 indignation upon the governess and upon Clare's hus- 
 band. In justice, it must be said that Tregaskiss rarely 
 
126 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 exceeded in such a manner as to make liimself conspicuous. 
 He was tlie kind of drinker who " nips " all day, but who 
 would angrily disclaim the imputation of being a drunk- 
 ard. Of course he was not a drunkard ! He had had a 
 touch of the sun, and couldn't stand up to liquor as he 
 used — this was how he would put it to himself. And that 
 same touch of the sun made him feel the need of constant 
 stimulant. He ran down ; he couldn't manage the long 
 hot days without some sort of sustainment ; his brain 
 needed excitement to keep it moving. Life was deadly 
 monotonous on the Leura. The bank held him too tight 
 to allow of his gambling much in mining shares and so 
 forth. Drought and dying cattle might well drive a fel- 
 low to drown his cares. He knew that a glass beyond the 
 justifiable quantity made him irritable, and Clare wasn't 
 half the companion she had once been. Even her ridicu- 
 lous fancies had been amusing when she had opened out, 
 to him, but she never did that now. She had grown dull. 
 Who could ever dream that this silent, stand-off woman 
 had been the brilliant Miss Gardyne of Queen's Gate daj's? 
 They had been ten years married, and a man, he told him- 
 self, got to feel by that time the want of a little varietj'. 
 It was a mistake to tie one's self up too soon, and ruin all 
 one's best years. Well, anj^how, they had jogged along 
 so far, and he supposed they would jog on to the end of 
 the chapter. He'd have a spree down in Sydney or Mel- 
 bourne as soon as things looked up, and come back to her 
 fresh and good-tempered. The rough had to be taken 
 with the smooth, in marriage as well as in Australian 
 squatting ; and the rough wasn't all on Clare's side. 
 After all, he had acted heroicallj^ in marrying her under 
 the conditions ! Poor Clare ! She had so generously in- 
 sisted on this fact in the early times that he accepted it as 
 no longer a matter of controversy. Tliis was how Tregas- 
 kiss argued to himself. 
 
 He was down in the worki^hed now, tinkering at saddles, 
 
MOUNT WOMBO. 127 
 
 Ning with hira. Every now and then Clare, in the ver- 
 anda above, caught scraps of their talk. 
 
 " Daddy, where's my hammer ? " 
 
 " Don't know, Ningums." 
 
 " Daddy, a big kangaloo came and the dogs bited 
 it, and Tommy George held it by the tail, and mine yan 
 budgery quick — I wunned," corrected Ning, — " mummy 
 says I mustn't talk blacks' language, — and I cried, for the 
 kangaloo was all bloody. And mummy came and beat the 
 dogs with a whip. I don't like kangaloos. Daddy, what 
 would you do if the nasty union men came here ? Would 
 you shoot them, and would they be good to eat?" 
 
 Tregaskiss' big laugh grated, as it always did, upon his 
 wife. It seemed to her that it was only of late years lie 
 had got to laugh like that — since his sunstroke, as she put 
 it. Tliere was something a little vacant in the laugh, 
 although it was consequential, too, and had in it a note of 
 irritation. That note of irritation was at all times more 
 or less dominant in Tregaskiss' whole personality. 
 
 The click of Clare's sewing-machine, as she went on 
 with her work, drowned Ning's prattle. Presently the 
 queer little figure, in its one garment of summer, — a com- 
 bination overall and knickerbockers of Turkey-red, — and 
 with a flapping white sunbonnet on its head, came out of 
 the workshop and joined Claribel, who was walking with 
 the baby up and down the lower veranda, within the 
 mother's sight. At intervals Clare would conscientiously 
 turn her head to see that all was well with the children, 
 and then proceed with her seam, or else she would leaa 
 back wearily and rest for a minute or two before bending 
 once more over the treadle. She was looking very thin 
 and out of health, but she had been taking Geneste's drops, 
 and had not had another fainting fit since the one at Cedar 
 Hill. 
 
 By and by Tregaskiss came up by a little outside stair 
 connecting the upper and lower verandas. He was in 
 
128 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 summer working garb — a light woollen shirt open at the 
 neck, the sleeves rolled above his elbows, moleskin 
 breeches, and a pith hat with a puggai-ee. Beads of per- 
 spiration hung from his fair moustache, and stood out upon 
 his red, brawny chest, as it showed between the folds of 
 his shirt where the collar was unfastened. The leather 
 strap around his waist held his tobacco pouch, his pistol 
 holster, watch pouch, and large knife. He was smoking 
 a short brairwood pipe, much blackened. 
 
 "I want lunch earlier," he said. "I have got to go 
 with rations to the bore this afternoon. See about it, will 
 you?" 
 
 She got up and went down the stairs, along the other 
 veranda, and by a short gangway to the kitchen — one of 
 the rough out-humpeys, with a zinc roof and a bough- 
 shade. Tregaskiss followed her to the head of the stairs, 
 and leaned over the balcony railing looking out on the 
 back yard. 
 
 Ah Sin, the cook, was coming from the meat store with 
 a dripping piece of salt beef, which be had just taken from 
 the cask. He showed a fat, smiling, yellow face. Ah Sin 
 was, to Mrs. Tregaskiss, one of the minor alleviations of 
 Western life. He was never out of temper. 
 
 " Velly well, missee. My makee quick fire. But my 
 word, missee, Englishee woman no good. That velly lazj^ 
 No makee beds this morning, no washee clothes ; alto- 
 getlier 'Gusta no good." 
 
 If All Sin was an alleviation, 'Gusta, the girl from Port 
 Victoria, Mrs. Tregaskiss' only other servant with the 
 exception of Claribel the half-caste, was distinctly the 
 reverse. 'Gusta was alwajj^s dirty, always behind time, and 
 always doing that which she ought not to do. 
 
 " Look here ! " called out Tregaskiss; "I expect there '11 
 be drovers wanting grub. Those bulls have come at last, 
 and I hear there's a mob of Cyrus Chance's camped down 
 by the One Tree. Some of the men will be coming for 
 
MOUNT WOMBO. 129 
 
 rations, and I shall turn them off pretty sharp, I can tell 
 you. If this drought lasts there '11 be no end of travelling 
 mobs poaching on my pasture, and I'm not going to stand 
 it. It's like that beggarly old screw's impudence to camp 
 his cattle and feed them at my expense." 
 
 " Am I to give out all the rations that are asked for ? " 
 Clare said. She was storekeeper in the absence of the 
 new chums. " We shall run short of flour if the drays 
 don't come soon." 
 
 "No, if we're short, tell 'em to do without — unless they 
 like to pay double price. It's that — union, I suppose, 
 that's keeping the drays. If any of my men have joined 
 tiie strikers, by the Lord, I'll let 'em have it ! Look sharp 
 about lunch." 
 
 No drovers appeared, after all, which was perhaps as 
 well ; for when 'Gusta had been hustled through her _ 
 preparations in the dining-room, lai'gely assisted by her 
 mistress, she had to go off to the neglected beds in the 
 bachelors' quarters, and the half-caste nurse waited ou 
 husband and wife, and on the new chum, a sly, uncouth, 
 much-mosquito-bitten youth, the son of a gentleman 
 farmer in Norfolk, who helped with station accounts, car- 
 ried rations to fencers, and stockmen, and people employed 
 at the bores, as the artesian wells were called, and learned 
 what is called " colonial experience," in exchange for the 
 privilege of making himself useful. Gilbert Shand was 
 a trial, but Clare was obliged to own that he might have 
 been more objectionable, as a third person breaking upon 
 the conjugal tSte-d-tete, the second " knockabout " young 
 man being nearly always away at an out-station. Shand 
 was not talkative, and Tregaskiss' ill temper he seemed to 
 take as a matter of course, and was at least not officious 
 in sympathj', when it placed Clare in an uncomfortable 
 position. 
 
 Tregaskiss was particularly surly to-daj-. Perhaps he 
 was feeling the effect of comparative abstinence. He had 
 
130 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 refrained, just of late, from his morning " nips." He ate 
 little, swore at the flies and the heat, groaned over the 
 salt beef, abused his wife for not inventing some new way 
 of doing up the eternal junk. He was sure that Mrs. 
 Carmody or Mrs. Cusack could have given her receipts, 
 and worried his pet grievances just now, the drought and 
 the travelling mobs, as a dog might worry a dry bone. 
 Mr. Shand only aggravated matters by remarking that it 
 had looked like a storm that morning. Had he not learned 
 yet that the rising and passing of early storm-clouds was 
 the most certain sign of a long-continued drought ? If it 
 went on much longer the cattle would be dying by hun- 
 dreds, starved in tlie plains, and logged in the mud of 
 drying water holes. Mr. Shand added further fuel in the 
 shape of an ingenuous observation that Cyrus Chance was 
 securing himself against losses by selling off as many as 
 possible of his " store " and fat cattle, and that it was a 
 pity they at Mount Worabo had lost a certain sale not long 
 back through asking too big a price. Tregaskiss was in- 
 furiated at the recollection. It was like Cyrus Chance's 
 mean, miserly ways ; always taking advantage of his 
 neighbours and trading on his money, with the meat- 
 preserving people, to steal a march on the other Leura 
 squatters, and undersell all who couldn't afford to send 
 large droves to the southern market. It was through such 
 dirty tricks that old Cyrus had made himself a millionaire, 
 and so on, and so on. 
 
 Tregaskiss got so excited in his abuse of Mr. Chance 
 tliat he did not notice the dogs barking in the yard, or the 
 sound of a step in the back veranda. The doors stood 
 wide open all through the establishment, and visitors had 
 a way of presenting themselves without unnecessary for- 
 malities. Ning, wlio was seated opposite the door, jumped 
 up -with a cry, and drew general attention to a stranger on 
 the threshold — a queer, fusty figure of a man, in a light 
 brown alpaca coat frayed at the seams, brown breeches, 
 
MOUNT WOMBO. 131 
 
 and an ancient cabbage-tree hat. Tlie man was Cyrus 
 Chance himself. He looked all brown together, for his 
 face was much the shade of his coat, and his little goatee 
 beard was grizzly-brown to match. He was very ugly, 
 with small and grotesquely irregular features, smallpox- 
 pitted, shrewd, blinking eyes, and a thin-lipped, cynical, 
 and yet benevolent mouth. His smile betrayed him. In 
 spite of all his endeavours, it refused to contradict many a 
 secret charity which his friends could have discovered in 
 no other way. Cyrus Chance was between sixty and sev- 
 enty, hale for his age, though naturally frail. One shoul- 
 der was a little raised above the other, and he limped, the 
 result of a fall in infancy. On the whole he gave one the 
 impression of a creature only three parts human, the other 
 elfish. He took off his cabbage-tree hat, making an awk- 
 ward bow to Mrs. Tregaskiss, while he addressed her hus- 
 band without looking at him. That was a peculiarity of 
 Mr. Chance's. He avoided meeting the eyes of a person 
 lie did not like ; the world said in consequence that he 
 was shifty in his dealings, and always on the lookout to 
 get the better of his acquaintances. His voice had an odd 
 accent, something between the Scotch and the Australian. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Tregaskiss," he said, " I'm thinking there's 
 truth in the proverb about listeners never hearing any 
 good of themselves. I'll assure j'ou, sir, that my beasties 
 are close penned in the sandy pocket by the crossing, 
 where there's not a blade of grass if they wanted it, poor 
 de'ils ! and we're not requiring any rations just now. I'm 
 obliged to you, for I guessed that you'd be asking a good 
 price, and I'd be a poorer man this day if I hadna always 
 taken thought to provide against contingencies of that 
 sort. It was thinking of Ning that made me bring a wee 
 hag of hominj'-, for your drays won't be here yet awhile, 
 I'm thinking, Mr. Tregaskiss." 
 
 Clare had risen. " That was very good of you. Mi-. 
 Chance," she said, with heightened colour. 
 
132 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Tlie old man gave liev a contorted smile and patted 
 Ning's liead. Tregaskiss liad got up too, and came for- 
 ward with outstretolied liand and a manner of noisy, if 
 deprecating, cordiality. 
 
 " How are yon, my dear sir? Yes, it's tlie old story of 
 the eavesdropper, eh ! Deuced bad luck that you should 
 hit off the moment like that ! But you are so confoundedly 
 prosperous that j'ou can make allowance for a hot-headed 
 fellow down in the mouth and worried to death, so tliat 
 he's ready to strike out at whatever comes within reach. 
 Just heard of your travelling mob and the sale you've 
 made. By Jove ! don't I wish I had had the chance ! 
 Come along ! don't bear us all a grudge for my fit of ill- 
 temper." 
 
 " No, I will not do that, Mr. Tregaskiss," replied the 
 old man rather grimly. 
 
 " Sit down and have some grub, though it isn't first-class. 
 I have to be off to the bore presently, but Clare will look 
 after j''ou." 
 
 " I thiidc I will not accept your hospitality in the way of 
 eating, Mr. Tregaskiss ; but I shall be pleased to have a 
 talk with the mistress." 
 
 " What a rum fellow j^ou are ! I believe you have 
 made a vow not to break bread in my house. What did 
 you mean by saying that the drays wouldn't be here 
 yet awhile ? You've heard no bad news about them, I 
 hoj)e." 
 
 " I have heard there's been a detachment of police sent 
 to Ilgandah, and that the strikers are calling the men out 
 everywhere and threatening to shoot all teams that are on 
 the road. I doubt but it will go liard with Cusack of 
 Brinda, and such of the squatters 'round as haven't got 
 themselves too well liked among the labour men." 
 
 " I should say I was as popular as any squatter 'round," 
 observed Tregaskiss complacently. " I've alwaj^s been 
 willing to give every man his due, and what was fair in 
 
MOUNT WOMBO. 133 
 
 tlie way of a nip occasion.illj'. No, I sliouldn't care to 
 stand in Cusack's shoes, but I'm pretty safe myself." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that I'd go the length of saying as 
 much .as that," sardonically remarked the millionaire. 
 " I'd not trust m)'self to measure any man's due according 
 to his own survey, let alone his grog." 
 
 Tregaskiss gave an appreciatory guffaw at the old man's 
 humour. He had in the meantime poured himself out a 
 glass of spirits, which he drank standing. 
 
 " Not bad. Chance ! not at all bad ! Well, I must be 
 off! Have a nip, won't you? I don't believe all those 
 stories about your being a teetotaler." 
 
 " No, I thank you," replied Chance, not corroborating 
 or contradicting the inference. 
 
 " Then I'll leave you to the missus. Come along, Shand! 
 I hope 3'ou have got the pack ready and the horses in the 
 yard." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OLD CTEUS CHANCE. 
 
 Cyeus Chance was tlie millionaire of tlie Leura. No one 
 knew how rich he was. He had cattle and sheep stations 
 scattered over three colonies ; he Iiad a share in a gold 
 mine ; he had sugar plantations up north and flour mills 
 down south ; he was said to own a great meat-freezing 
 establishment and to have investments in Fiji and the 
 South Sea Islands. There were all sorts of stories afloat 
 about his great wealth and his eccentric ways. No doubt 
 both were exaggerated, but there was no doubt that he 
 might, had he chosen, have been a social and financial power 
 in any great capital. He might have lapped himself in 
 luxury, might have drunk the beverages of emperors, and 
 feasted at banquets that would have satisfied the epicures 
 of an older civilisation. He might have bought the love 
 of women, as he might liave bought anything else that 
 pleased him. He might liave satiated himself with all the 
 material pleasures of existence had he so willed. But he 
 did none of these things — ^would not have known how to 
 set about doing them. He lived like a miser, fed on stock- 
 man's most frugal fare, wore the shabbiest clothes, and 
 appeared to revel in personal hardship. He avoided even 
 bush society, and for that reason preferred to bury himself 
 on the Leura for the greater part of the year, managing his 
 station there, and having the name of driving a harder 
 bargain than any squatter round. It was told of him that 
 he had never in his life tasted wine or spirits, smoked 
 tobacco, or kissed a woman excejit his mother. There was 
 
 134 
 
OLD CYRUS CHANCE. 135 
 
 only one woman it seemed from whom he did not fly, and 
 that waa Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 
 He spent an hour or two occasionally at Mount "Wombo, 
 and talked to her all the time. He never came of set pur- 
 pose, but made an excuse to halt on his way to and from 
 Port Victoria. If it ever chanced that he had to stay a 
 night he camped out. That was another of his peculiari- 
 ties. He would not sleep under the roof or eat the food of 
 a man whom he disliked ; and he cordially disliked Keith 
 Tregaskiss. This might be inferred from the fact that he 
 usually timed his visits when the master of Mount Wombo 
 was absent. 
 
 When Mrs. Tregaskiss and Cyrus Chance were left alone, 
 she took him round by the front veranda to her little 
 drawing-room, begging him to excuse her minding baby 
 while the half-caste had dinner, and, before she established 
 herself on the sofa with her child, made Ning pull forward 
 the most comfortable of the armchairs, and herself took his 
 hat from him. 
 
 Ning and old Cyrus Chance were great friends. He 
 generally had some goodies in his pocket for her — cheap 
 store lollipops, but none the less acceptable to Ning. She 
 amused the old man with her queer gabble. He was well 
 up in the blacks' phrases, and delighted when she answered 
 him aptly. 
 
 "Nja ninda gidurdil" (You are my love), said the old 
 man. 
 
 " Guiyungxm njali " (We belong to one another), 
 promptly returned Ning. 
 
 The old man's grimness relaxed, he seated himself and 
 looked round with a grunt of satisfaction, while Ning sang 
 black songs to the baby. 
 
 " Now, I always say. Mistress Tregaskiss, that your sitting- 
 room is just an example of what can be done with nought 
 but taste and little cost. I can't make it out. At home 
 I'm all heat and glare and flies, and whatever I do there's 
 
136 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 not a cbair tliat gives one a resting feeling. And liere, no 
 matter how the sun blazes, it's always shady and comfort- 
 able, and not that abominable swarm of sticky insects buz- 
 zing round. And then there's just an armchair that nips 
 one back in the right place, and just a homey feel over 
 everything. Yet I shouldn't say now that you'd spent a 
 ten-pound note on the room — none of the Brinda Plains 
 fal-las and grandeur. Lord, I abominate them — and that 
 talking v^oman who wants to manage the district ! What 
 is it, Mrs. Tregaskiss, that makes the home. Is it the chil- 
 dren, or is it you ? It aint the mon." 
 
 " It's keeping the blinds down, Mr. Chance, and fly-papers 
 about, and it's cushions of the wild-ducks' feathers that 
 I bribe the men to bring me, and it's flowers and pho- 
 tographs and all the rest. I've got a new photograph 
 I want to show you — one that I found here when I came 
 back, just done up and not a word to tell me anything 
 about the sender, except that I suppose from the dress that 
 her husband has died." 
 
 Clare took a large Mendelssohn photograph from a table 
 near. It gave the suggestion of a youthful, but chastened 
 and modern, Mary Stuart, on account, principally, of the 
 long, rich black robe with hanging sleeves, — no doubt Jay's 
 latest design in mourning tea-gowns, — and a coif-like cap 
 surmounting the crinkly, parted hair, which Clare had 
 been some time in discovering was emblematic of matri- 
 monial bereavement. Tlje mixture of medievalism and 
 modernity, of suffering and fiivolity, and of coquetry 
 combined with a certain spirituality gave the picture a 
 peculiar fascination. 
 
 Mr. Chance examined it carefully'-, holding it away from 
 his eyes and then close to them, putting it down and taking 
 it up again as if he were loth to turn from it. 
 
 " That's a curious face," he said at last. " I've never 
 seen one iij a pictui-e like it. It makes nie think of ' Fair 
 Ines.' " 
 
OLD CTRUS CHANCE. 137 
 
 " Fair Ines ! " Clare repeated, in some surprise. Slie bad 
 not imagined that Mr. Chance would know anything about 
 Hood's poem. 
 
 He repeated softly with his uncultured intonation : 
 
 " ' Oh, saw ye not Fair Ines ? 
 She's gone iuto the west 
 To dazzle when the sun is down 
 And rob the world of rest,' " 
 
 and added : " You'll think it queer, perhaps, Mistress Tre- 
 gaskiss, that an old, stingy, deformed bushman like me 
 should have any romantic notions about heroines, of novels 
 and poetry ? " 
 
 " I don't know," Claire answered. " I fancied somehow 
 that you didn't go in much for reading. I don't know 
 wliy." 
 
 " What else should you fancy. I've never had any educa- 
 tion. I was a working-lad tliat ran away from home, and 
 I've toiled with the sweat of my brow for all I've got 
 together. But I wull say, mistress, that we bushmen owe a 
 debt of gratitude to the Chambers firm for their spread of 
 cheap literature. Where would I have been to start with 
 if it hadn't been for ' Chambers's Information for the 
 People.' " 
 
 " And the heroines, Mr. Cliance ? " 
 
 "Not the ones in novels," returned Chance decidedly. 
 " I never wanted nought to do with them — they were a poor, 
 fainting, whimpering lot. It's the woman in the bit songs, 
 and lines of poetry with a tune on them going straight to 
 tlie heart that fetched me ; and Fair Ines was one of tiiose. 
 I read a sort of an essay by a very clever man, though I 
 doubt me he's misguided in his politics, in Scribnet-^s 
 Magazine the other day. It was called ' Three Dream 
 Heroines,' and one was Sally in our Alley, the nice, honest, 
 homely thing that I'd have found a touch feckless and silly, 
 I'm thinking : and another was Annabel Lee — who died 
 
138 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 young, and I'm thinking, too, that if she had lived to keep 
 house, he mightn't have set such store by her. And then 
 there was Fair Ines, who don't come into the list of women 
 at all, somehow. She's the queen of another world, and 
 she's just the embodiment of all one ever dreamed, and told 
 nobody — a creature to be dazzled by, but not to be made 
 afeared of — she's too kind and gracious and winsome for 
 that; who'd ride along and smile, and smile, and make the 
 heart of man glad for no more than having looked upon 
 her face. Not an angel ; oh, no. Mistress Tregaskiss, I 
 don't hold by angels — not in this world, anyhow. Salt 
 junk is more satisfying than pickled saints. But just Fair 
 Ines ! " 
 
 " And you've never seen a real ' Fair Ines,' Mr. Chance ? " 
 
 " Well, Mistress Tregaskiss, you yourself are the nearest 
 approach to Fair Ines I've come across yet ; but Fair Ines 
 wouldn't have married Keith Tregaskiss and settled down 
 on the Leura." 
 
 A rush of emotion overpowered her. " Oh, how you 
 understand me ! " she cried, and impulsively put out her 
 hand to him. But the queer old man did not take it. He 
 only leaned back in his chair and looked at her with his 
 blinking eyes and his odd smile, and then, without saying a 
 word, deliberately took out ared bandanna, folded it in four, 
 and blew his nose with it so loudly that the baby gave a 
 feeble cry. Clare laughed outright, almost hysterically. 
 
 " I wonder," she said presently, " if you'll ever see 
 Gladys." 
 
 "Gladys!" 
 
 " That's the lady whose photograph I showed you ; she 
 was a friend of mine long before I was married. I have 
 not seen her for eleven years. She married, herself — an 
 old man, who, I suppose, is dead, and Gladys is rich— and 
 free." 
 
 "I don't want to see her," said Mr. Chance, "if she 
 married an old man for his money." 
 
OLD CYRUS CHANCE. 139 
 
 " No, no," put in Clare. " She was very fond of bim ; 
 and I heard that she nursed him devotedly." 
 
 " I wouldn't cross a log to see a woman," pursued Mr. 
 Chance. "Why, no, I rather think I'd swim a dozen creeks 
 to get away from her." 
 
 He used his bandanna again, more gently, and resumed 
 his study of Clare's drawing-room. 
 
 " It didn't run to a ten-pound note, now, did it?" 
 
 " I don't suppose it did. Keith papered the walls and 
 made the little tables." 
 
 " Did he now ? " There was a note of incredulity in the 
 old man's voice. " Well, I shouldn't have suspected he'd 
 take that trouble for ye. It must have been a long time 
 ago." 
 
 " It was soon after we married." Clare laughed again. 
 "The reason why we are so smart is because I brought 
 some red cloth and art muslin from Port Victoria, and Mr. 
 Shand helped nje to furbish things up a bit." 
 
 The old man gave her a nod of approbation. " Well, your 
 a fine economical housewife. Mistress Tregaskiss ; and it 
 'nd be a pleasure to a body to save for j'ou. There's but 
 poor joy to me in thinking of those that count on coming 
 after me — my brother's children, with their airs and 
 graces and flash ways. I'm sorry your not my kin." 
 
 " I'm sorry too, Mr. Chance." 
 
 It did not seem to occur to the millionare that want of 
 kinship was not necessarily a bar to the desire which had 
 dimly pi-esented itself to his imagination. Tliere was a 
 silence, during which he gazed at Clare, now occupied 
 with the aroused infant. 
 
 "So that's the youngster!" said Cyrus Chance. "A 
 girl too ! What did you go and have her for? It's a 
 mistake." 
 
 "Yes, I think it is," answered Clai-e gravely. 
 
 " What's the good of making another leg-rope to keep 
 you bailed up in j-^our pen here. That's what children are 
 10 
 
140 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 — nought but leg-i'opes. Look at the Carraodj's. He 
 might strike out and say 'Bo' to the bank ; and she could 
 go teaching, or charing, or into a hospital, if it wasn't for 
 those bairnies. Do ye give the creature the breast ?" he 
 added, with abrupt directness. 
 
 "I did for a little while, but I'm not strong enough." 
 
 Cyrus Chance gave a grunt. " You're wrong, mistress ; 
 it's an outlet. There's woman's feelings that 'uU flow in 
 mother's milk ; and that, when they're kept corked, are apt 
 to go sour and sickly, and prove pernicious to the system. If 
 j^ou were my daughter, — and thank the Lord ! I've not got 
 a daughter, — I'd say to j'ou : ' Nurse your babies, and turn 
 'em into blessings, more-like than curses.' Besides, 
 mother's milk is soothing to heart wounds, and has a 
 sovereign virtue. I've found that out for all that I'm a 
 bachelor and a woman-hater. D'ye think I'm an old fool, 
 novv. Mistress Tregaskiss ? " 
 
 " I think you are a very wise man," said Clare, with a 
 break in her voice ; " and you are very good to me." 
 
 " Well, never mind. I've brought a present for you — 
 thinking of the baby. It's in my pack, outside, with 
 the hominy for Ning. If ye'll permit me, I'll go and fetch 
 it in." 
 
 He stopped at the door, and addressed her solemnly : 
 
 "Look ye here. Mistress Tregaskiss. You'll have heard 
 a lot of stories about old money-grubbing Cyrus Chance, 
 and about his stinginess and his cranks ; and some of these 
 stories may be true, and some of them mayn't. But there's 
 one tale you'll never have heard, and never will hear, for 
 it 'nd just be looked upon as a miracle, right through 
 Australia. That is that old Cyrus Chance ever, in the 
 whole course of his natural existence, ever gave or was 
 likely to give a present to a woman. There ! " 
 
 He did not wait for her reply, but hobbled out, the in- 
 equality of his shape making his step uneven, and heighten- 
 ing the gnome-like impression his appearance somehow 
 
OLD- CYRUS CHANCE. 141 
 
 made. Clare laughed on with a certain mournful amuse- 
 ment, inexpressibly touched the while, and wondering of 
 what his present miglit be. She remembered a story Mrs. 
 Cusack had told her, of how she, being secretary for a sort 
 of Creche hospital for the children of immigrants out of 
 work, had written to the rich man of the district asking for 
 a subscription. Mrs. Cusack had recited to her the terse 
 reply, which she recollected word for word : 
 
 " Madam : 
 
 " Yours of date I'eceived. Me Children's Hospital : 
 
 Can imagine that immigrants' babies require nursing, but 
 cannot imagine what concern that is of 
 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " Cteus Chaxce." 
 
 She remembered, too, Mrs. Cusack's sequel to the story; 
 her relation of how, some little while later, an envelope 
 containing ten ten-pound notes had been received by the 
 secretary of the Creche, and generally ascribed to the re- 
 pentant generosity of Cyrus Chance, though an unfortu- 
 nate clergyman who had ventured to thank the miser- 
 millionaire, when halting for a night at his Lcura station, 
 had been there and then packed out of the house for 
 impertinence. 
 
 " It was exactly like him," Clare was saying to herself, 
 when the old man appeared again, with three fat black 
 bottles, red-labelled, under each arm, and a small bag of 
 hominy in one hand. He laid the bottles solemnly, one by 
 one, down by the sofa. 
 
 " Tliat's the best bottled stout, mistress, and I beg you'll 
 do me the favour to take a glass when j'ou feel low. Ye'll 
 not require it so much, perhaps, as j'ou're not nursing, and 
 if you cork the bottle tight and turn it upside down the 
 stuff '11 keep." 
 
 She thanked him. He was not content till he had seen 
 
142 MRS. TEEGASKISS. 
 
 lier put the bottles away in lier store-cupboard in the din- 
 ing-room. She lieard incidentally, afterward, that he had 
 come round by Brinda Plains for the purpose of buying 
 them at Cusack's store, and had haggled for quarter of an 
 hour over the price. 
 
 Having done his errand, Mr. Cliance prepared to depart. 
 Tlie bellowing of beasts and cracking of stock whips was 
 heard afar off in the plain, and their owner could not resist 
 leading Mrs. Tregaskiss to the veranda, — whence through 
 one of the gidia clearings she could see the red heaving 
 mass of cattle as it passed, — and descanting upon the eco- 
 nomical management of liis droving operations, and the 
 sinful waste of Leura squatters in general, who employed 
 twice as many " hands " as were needed, and did not 
 " dodge about " and surprise their travelling stock as he 
 himself was in the habit of doing. 
 
 "Keeps 'em from taking a night on the bui'st. What's 
 the meaning of so many mobs breaking in The Grave 
 pocket ?" he said. " It isn't the 'possums, and it isn't the 
 scrubbers ; it's the grog shanty, ten miles off, that does it ; 
 and my men know I'm as likely as not to turn up the night 
 they're camped there, and I shan't have to go to the grog 
 shanty to look after them. They don't suspect I'm here to- 
 day — came across country on purpose. Camped out last 
 night at an old sheep-station and saved hotel expenses, and 
 got supper out of Cusack for nothing — off the pumpkins 
 in the sheep yard. Many's the time I've camped out, out- 
 side a field of Indian corn, and made my meal from green 
 cobs. That's the way to save money, and to make money. 
 Mistress Tregaskiss. It's the pence, and not the pounds, 
 that does it. There's always truth in old saws." 
 
 She went out with him to the yard and saw him restrap 
 his valise, a good deal thinner now that the bottles had 
 been taken out of it. He showed her how he had wrapped 
 them in his flannel shirts to keep them from breaking. 
 " It's good stuff, Mistress Tregaskiss — now mind ye take a 
 
OLD CYRUS CHANCE. 143 
 
 sup when ye're low," was bis parting admonition, and he 
 rode off, as proud and pleased with his generosity as 
 though he had handed her the bank acquittance of Tre- 
 gaskiss' debt — which, indeed, he might have done, she 
 thought whimsically to herself, with even less incon- 
 venience than the buying of those six bottles had cost him. 
 
 Two men of disagreeable aspect, whom she had not be- 
 fore noticed, were loitering about the fence. They were 
 on foot, and explained that they had left their horses with 
 a black boj"-, were bound for Port Victoria, and wanted to 
 buy rations. The elder, and evidently more important of 
 the two, was a rakish, determined-looking person, dressed 
 like a stockman in shabby boots and dirty shirt and riding 
 breeches ; and yet, Clare felt sure, not a stockman. He did 
 not speak uncivilly, but tliere was something furtive in his 
 expression, and she did not like the way his eyes wandered 
 about, as if he were taking stock of everything, and wished 
 that Keith or Mr. Shand was at home, or that she had kept 
 Cyrus Chance a little longer. 
 
 " I am sorry," she said, in answer to the man's request 
 for rations, " but we are short of flour ourselves, our drays 
 having been delayed. Mr. Tregaskiss is not at liome, and 
 I could not let you have any during his absence." 
 
 " Oh, the drays have been delayed ! " repeated the elder 
 man, exchanging a glance, whicli Clare did not like either, 
 with his companion. " But I suppose j-ou are not short of 
 meat, ma'am, and that you can let us have a ration of junk ? 
 We've got money to pay for it." 
 
 " I can let you have some meat," she answered. " Wait 
 till I get the key of the store." 
 
 She went into the kitchen and called Ah Sin to come and 
 weigh the meat for her, but Ah Sin liad chosen the oppor- 
 tunity to pay a visit to his brother Chinaman at the garden 
 by the lagoon, and 'Gusta, too, was nowhere to be found. 
 Clare delayed indoors a little while, hoping that somebody 
 might come back, but no one came ; and when she went out 
 
144 MRS. TRE6ASKISS. 
 
 again, the men looked impatient and angry. They came to 
 meet her at the vei-anda. 
 
 " I believe you've got plenty of tobacco in the store?" 
 the elder man said, with a touch of insolence in his tone. 
 " We should be glad of a fig or two." 
 
 " I am not sure." 
 
 Clare began to feel frightened of the men, and wondered 
 if they could be strikers, or perhaps bushrangers — though 
 these were not as yet known on the Leura ; and what she 
 should do if they had threatened her. How liad they found 
 out there was tobacco in the store ? As a matter of fact, 
 there was enough of everything except flour and sugar. 
 She was a courageous woman, and not inclined to knuckle 
 under, but she was quite aware that to refuse rations in the 
 bush, without valid reason, was to go against the Austra- 
 lian conventions of hospitality. On the whole, she thought 
 it would be wisest to assume that the men were well-dis- 
 posed, and to give them what they wanted. 
 
 " I can let you have some tobacco," she answered; and, 
 walking across the yard with a dignity which had its effect 
 upon the man, for he made way for her and changed his 
 aggressive manner, she unlocked a door near the kitchen, 
 which had a great rusty padlock, and entered a dim 
 raftered room, where a tarantula had his web in a corner, 
 and cockroaches crawled out from the crevices — the usual 
 bush store : cobwebby shelves stacked with groceries, cloth- 
 ing for men, blankets and saddle-lining, drums of tobacco, 
 kegs of rum, a bottle or two of Steven's Red Blister and 
 Farmers' Friend, and so on ; the usual rough dresser and 
 scales, and the bin for flour which Mr. Shand had left open, 
 and where the weevils made black spots upon the caked 
 flour in the corner of the lid ; and another bin with compart- 
 ments for the moist black ration sugar, and for a lighter 
 and better sort. On the dais, which, after the arrival of 
 drays, would be piled with bags of flour, there was nothing 
 now but empty sacks folded. Clare separated and weighed 
 
OLD CYRUS CHANCE. 145 
 
 some figs of tobacco, wliicli she lianded the man ; also a 
 bottle of pickles for which they asked. Then slie took 
 them to the meat store, another low dark room, with wire 
 netting stretclied across the narrow window, an earthen 
 floor, and dripping hides nailed against the walls, two 
 large casks of brine in which the meat was kept, heaps 
 of coarse salt lying about, and pieces of more freshly 
 salted beef stacked upon the long wooden board on which 
 the salting was done. Clare poked out a piece of beef from 
 one of the casks, hooked it on the rusty steelyards, herself 
 carefully adjusting tlie balance. It was a curious occupa- 
 tion for a woman so beautiful and so refined — for the 
 admired Miss Gardyne of days gone by. The men slouched 
 against tlie door watching her, and perhaps something of 
 this sort flashed through their minds. One of them, at any 
 rate, asked respectfully if he could not help her. Slie let 
 him take the piece of beef off the steelyards, and it was just 
 then that a horse's hoofs sounded, and she had a vision of 
 someone hastily dismounting — a gentleman whom she sup- 
 posed to be her husband or Mr. Shand returned from the bore. 
 
 But it was the voice of neither of these that bade the 
 kangaroo dogs " lie down," and called out to one of the 
 strangers before addressing Mrs. Tregaskiss : 
 
 " Kelso, what are you doing here ? " 
 
 The man sulkily turned and made a gesture of recog- 
 nition. " No harm. Dr. Geneste, and I don't see, anyway, 
 that it's your business. The meat is eight pounds all but 
 an ounce, Mrs. Tregaskiss, and there's the money for it and 
 for the pickles and tobacco." 
 
 He laid a little heap of silver and copper coins beside 
 the steelyards. 
 
 "Stop a moment," said Geneste. "I think that money 
 can go back into your pouch, and the meat into the cask 
 again. Mrs. Tregaskiss, allow me to settle this for you." 
 
 He lifted his hat as he came to the meat store door. 
 
 "Tlie men are strike delegates, and I'm sure your hus- 
 
146 MRS. TREGASKI8S. 
 
 band wouldn't be pleased at your serving them with rations. 
 Do you go in. Kelso and I have had dealings together 
 before, and I've got a word to say to him now. Stand 
 back, man, and let the lady pass." 
 
 Kelso obeyed with a cowed air. Clare, too, was only too 
 glad to do what he told her. He held the door for her to 
 go through, flung the money back to the strikers, and 
 then closed the dooi-, shutting in the piece of beef and the 
 tobacco and pickles which had been standing on the 
 dresser, turned the key in the padlock, and then walked 
 with Mrs. Tregaskiss across the yard, keeping his hat in 
 his hand with an exaggerated deference that touched her 
 to the quick. She knew that he had taken in the whole 
 picture of the squalid little place, and of herself standing by 
 the steelyards selling meat to these horrible men. It seemed 
 her fate that he should discover her in humiliating positions, 
 though in truth there was nothing wonderful in his appearing 
 at that critical moment. His visit had been in contempla- 
 tion, and expected day by day, and this was the natural hour 
 for him to arrive' at tire station. Bush travellers always 
 time themselves to reach their destination at sundown. 
 
 "I believe those men are scouts," he said. "Kelso is a 
 bad lot and at the root of all these labour troubles. I've 
 no doubt he knew that Tregraskiss wasn't in the way, 
 and I only wonder he wasn't insolent. I'll pack him off." 
 
 But the men were out of the yavd when he turned back 
 to the meat store. Kelso had not waited for an encounter 
 with the explorer. Geneste, old bushman as he was, 
 unstrapped his valise, took the saddle from his horse, and 
 washed its back before turning it out. There was not 
 even a black boy to be seen. Only Ah Sin, in his white 
 frock, was visible halfway down to the lagoon, his arms 
 full of green stuff. 
 
 "I'm glad she has vegetables, at any rate," thought 
 Geneste. "My Heavens ! what a place for such a woman 
 to call her home ! " 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 blanchaed's eomance. 
 
 The sun had set in the midst of a thick storm-cloud — 
 those clouds alas ! which did not bring the much-needed 
 rain, and were, indeed, as Tregaskiss had said, the sure sign 
 of a continued drought. The air was hot and heavy, and 
 insects swarmed in myriads. Wlien 'Gusta brought in the 
 smoking dish of corned beef and summoned the party 
 from the veranda to dinner, Clare moved the lamp to the 
 side table so that they might be able to eat without the 
 risk of winged and crawling things dropping into their 
 plates. 
 
 Tregaskiss and Shand had returned from the bore, hav- 
 ing fallen in with Mr. Blanchard on the way. He was 
 sent over from Brinda Plains with a message from Mr. 
 Ciisack, a warning that the union men were out, that 
 there was a rumour of a woolshed having been burned down 
 belonging to a sheep-owner beyond Ilgandah, and an inti- 
 mation from the authorities that each squatter would be 
 expected to keep arms, horses, and men in readiness for the 
 protection of the district in case of a general riot. It was 
 evident that Mr. Cusack, bully and blusterer as he was, had 
 got into what Blanchard, in his soft voice and deliberate 
 English intonation, called a blue funk. Tregaskiss laughed 
 and made light of danger. To be sure he was not a sheep- 
 owner, and had less to fear, but Clare rejoiced in the 
 reflection that, at any rate, physically speaking, he was not 
 a coward. She thought of her whimsical fancy under the 
 stars of a Berserker past. The fighting blood rose in liim. 
 When he heard of the Kelso episode of the afternoon, he 
 
 147 
 
148 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 was infuriate at tlie notion that the labour delegates had 
 escaped, and was half inclined to rise up, pursue, and smite 
 them. 
 
 "What could you do?" said Geneste quietly. "Tliey 
 only wanted to buy rations — ostensibly. You can't put 
 tliern into chains for that." 
 
 " It's d d unpleasant to have the brutes skulking 
 
 round," said Tregaskiss, in his rough, outspoken way. 
 
 " Extremely unpleasant for your wife," returned Geneste, 
 his eyes following Clare as she moved about the dining- 
 room. "She might have been in an awkward position this 
 afternoon if Kelso had shown impertinence," he went on. 
 " Excuse my saying, Tregaskiss, that in these unsettled 
 times I think she ought not to be left without a man on 
 the place." 
 
 "There were Ah Sin and Li Hong." 
 
 "Oh, Chinamen ! " Geneste's shrug was eloquent. 
 
 " Well, come in to dinner," said Tregaskiss. 
 
 He hun-ied to the store cupboard, returning presently 
 with a bottle of whiskey and one of Cyrus Chance's bottles 
 of porter, asked his wife where the porter had come from, 
 and laughed immoderately, calling in the others, as Clare 
 reluctantly told how Chance had made her a present. 
 Cyrus Chance the miser making anyone a present ! The 
 idea was too comical ! Mr. Blanchard supplemented her 
 version by an account of old Cyrus' visit to the Brinda 
 store. Tregaskiss jeered at the old man's meanness. Had 
 it been a case of port wine, the gift might have been worth 
 a fuss. Clare winced at the various remarks. 
 
 Even Dr. Geneste, to her fancy, stuck a jarring note. 
 He had a story to tell of having once discovered the mil- 
 lionaire, under an assumed name, among the steerage pas- 
 sengers on a coasting boat. " He was sneaking up to one 
 of his stations, Mrs. Tregaskiss, so that he might pounce 
 upon the manager unawares. As it was, he did catch the 
 poor fellow napping, and dismissed him forthwith." 
 
BLANCPIARD'S ROMANCE. 149 
 
 " Wliich proves that Mr. Chance had reason for his pre- 
 cautions," answered Clare coldly. 
 
 " You are a friend of old Cyrus' ? " said Geneste quickly, 
 feeling that he had made a mistake. 
 
 " Hallo, here's Hansen ! " broke in Tregaskiss. " Didn't 
 expect you so soon. What luck have you had ? " 
 
 Mr. Hansen was the young man from the out-station. 
 He was a colonial by birth — a big, raw-boned, red-haired, 
 large-limbed creature, with mild blue eyes and a shaggy, 
 ugly face. Ning, who adored him, flew into his arms, 
 crushing her white frock and red sash. 
 
 " Oh, mine cobbon glad to see you, Hanny ! Mine velly 
 glad ! " correcting herself conscientiouslj^ " You been 
 bring me quantongs ?" 
 
 "All right, Pickaninny ! I've got something better than 
 quantongs to show you, after dinner. Well, you see, boss, 
 I thought I'd try and push for a civilised Sunday, now the 
 missus is back. I hope you are better, Mrs. Tresgaskiss, 
 though you don't look too jolly well. I'm at j'our orders. 
 If the boss will let me stop over Moridaj^, I'll scrub out a 
 room, turn laundress, or do anything else you like." 
 
 "Oh, she's all right ! " interrupted Tregaskiss. "How 
 have you got on with the stock ? " 
 
 " Pretty fair. Branded one hundred and seventy calves 
 from the Furella country. We rather did a record yester- 
 day. Branded, turned the beasts up to All's Well camp, 
 killed and salted, and were done in time for a bogey in the 
 creek before dinner. That was pretty good, for the cattle 
 don't draft well through Gil-Gil yard." 
 
 "Oh, that be blowed, for a yarn!" cried Tregaskiss. 
 "You're used to the yard here ; but I'd sooner draft 
 through Gil-Gil yard myself. Seen many fats ? The 
 butchers may be up any day now." 
 
 " Well, you'll have a job to get the number of 
 fat cows," replied Hansen. "But we're keeping you, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss. Oh, how do you do. Dr. Geneste ! 
 
150 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Shand is cleaning himself, boss ; you'll not wait for 
 him." 
 
 " Have a nip before you begin," said Tregaskiss, offer- 
 ing the whiskey impartially. " It will give yon an appe- 
 tite. But the missus won't let you drink it neat, Hansen. 
 There is cold water out in the bag." 
 
 "Mrs. Tregaskiss, that's a libel," protested the young 
 man. " I never take my grog neat. Look here, boss ! 
 big as you are, I don't mind having a turn with the gloves 
 and fighting it out." 
 
 Tregaskiss liked the implied deference of the title 
 "boss." Mr. Hansen was a favourite of his. To-night he 
 •was boisterously good-humoured. They all sat down to the 
 meal, which was half tea, half dinner, most of the gentle- 
 men beginning with a " nip " of whiskey, and ending with 
 tea, which Clare dispensed. Presently Mr. Sliand appeared 
 in a clean suit of white duck. Dr. Geneste was also in 
 white duck, and wore a starched shirt. The other two had 
 on flannel shirts and light alpaca coats. Clare noticed 
 that Geneste's sleeve-links were fine " Alexanders," and 
 that he had a curious-looking antique coin hanging from 
 his watch chain. She was a woman to whom such trifles 
 appealed ; they added to the individuality he was assuming 
 in her eyes. Pie told her that in old days he had indulged 
 a fad for collecting coins, and hoped that she would soon 
 see his collection at Darra, as well as some Egyptian scar- 
 abei which he had there as well. 
 
 "You ought to be. interested in Egyptian relics," he 
 said. " I don't know whether you have been told that 
 your face is of the old Egyptian type ? " 
 
 "I have always wished verj' much to go to Egypt," she 
 said. 
 
 They fell into talk, taking a leap far from the Lenra. 
 When with him each fresh time she had the feeling that 
 they were resuming the thread of some former intimate 
 acquaintanceship, and that already they stood apart in a 
 
BLANCH ARD'S ROMANCE. 151 
 
 world which was not the world, even of Helen Cusack. 
 Not for years Lad she looked so handsome or so interested, 
 and this fact struck Tregaskiss as he looked at her across 
 the table, and annoyed him. He interrupted the conver- 
 sation by asking Geneste some questions about the fattening 
 properties of Darra-Darra, and the talk became general 
 again and confined within the range of Leura interests. 
 Hansen broke in : 
 
 " Do you remember that big roan bullock, boss, that Joe 
 lost on Brigalow Creek. Well, I got him, but he was as 
 wild as a scrubber, and I let him go again, by Lake Eurella. 
 1 say, Mrs. Tregaskiss, you should just see the lake now. 
 Tliere must have been a lot of rain up there last year, 
 though it was pretty dry down here. Of course it's shal- 
 low, but it looks like an inland sea. If you stand on one 
 side, you can hardly make out the other. Covered with 
 birds it is. There are thousands of swans, and ducks, — 
 and the pelicans 1 My word ! I've brought Ning a 
 wliole winter frock of skins. I wish you could feel the 
 fresh salt breeze, Mrs. Tregaskiss ; it would just set 
 you. By Jove! it would be a sound 'spec' to put up 
 a hotel and advertise the lake as the sanitarium of tlie 
 West." 
 
 " Wait till there comes -a three years' drought," said 
 Geneste. "I've seen tlie lake perfectly dry, with a bed of 
 what I thought was course sand, till I examined it and 
 found a mass of tiny shells. Have you ever been to Lake 
 Eurella, Mrs. Tregaskiss ? " 
 
 " Never," she answered. 
 
 Hansen proposed that they should get up a picnic ; it 
 only meant a night's camping out and good horses. 
 Blanchard said that the Cusacks had been talking of an 
 expedition. Miss Cusack was very anxious for it ; and 
 then Geneste suggested that the three stations should join 
 and cany out the plan. 
 
 " Yes, when we're less short-handed, and the unionists 
 
152 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 liave settled down, and Cusack has got over his funk of 
 being attacked," put in Tregaskiss. 
 
 The labour troubles came into discussion again, and Mr. 
 Blancliard reported anew rumours from beyond Ilgandah. 
 Clare was struck by some remarks which the young man 
 made, whicli showed a thoughtful grasp of the labour prob- 
 lem, and an intelligent sympathy with the working class. 
 She saw that he was much older and more developed than 
 she had at first supposed. At Brinda Plains he had seemed 
 to her retiring and almost insignificant. This she now 
 realised had been the result of the Cusack's robust chaff. 
 Relieved from the oppression, he showed himself a gen- 
 tleman of culture and character. There was something 
 peculiarly attractive about his smile and in a certain 
 " other- worldliness" he seemed to exhale. 
 
 Later on she spoke about him to Dr. Geneste. They 
 had climbed the little stair to the upper veranda. Tre- 
 gaskiss and the two Mount Wombo young men remained, 
 deep in station matters. Mr. Blancliard had gone to the 
 bachelors' quarters for his pipe. Geneste followed Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss to the further end of the veranda, where he 
 went to replenish one of the camp ovens, kept stoked with 
 burning sandal-wood boughs. This sandal-wood drove 
 away the mosquitoes and gave forth an agreeable odour. 
 Down below, beyond the garden fence, half a dozen horses 
 followed the example of the humans, and gathered for pro- 
 tection from insects round a smoking rubbish heap. Tlie 
 moon was rising over the lagoon, and the clouds had dis- 
 appeared, the heavens showing de,ep blue and starlit. A 
 blacks' camp was pitched at the further end of the lagoon, 
 the shape of the gunyas and an occasional black form 
 standing out in the moonlight, and now and then there 
 would float up echoes of a dog's bark or a corobboree 
 tune. Beyond the opening of the lagoon stretched the 
 vast plain, which to Clare had always something mystic 
 in its dim expanse ; and the semicircle of which the lagoon 
 
BLANCH ARD'S ROMANCE. 153 
 
 formed the base was closed in by melancliol3'' gidia scrub. 
 Geneste helped Clare to put more boughs into the little 
 furnace, and the odorous smoke thickened. The door into 
 her room stood open — he could tell that it was her room 
 by the light of a lamp turned low, and by the baby's cot, 
 round which m.osquito netting was drawn close. She left 
 him for a few moments to peer through the netting and 
 assure herself that all was well. 
 
 "I always feel nervous," she said, returning and seating 
 herself on a canvas chair near him, "since once we found a 
 scorpion under Ning's pillow." 
 
 He leaned against the railings, studying her profile as it 
 showed itself against the dark slab wall. 
 
 "Tell rae about Mr. Blanchai'd," she asked suddenly. 
 "I didn't notice him much at Brinda. I tliought he was 
 only the ordinary new chum, and now he strikes me as 
 being quite different and decidedly interesting." 
 
 " Yes, he is interesting. I found that out one night over 
 our pipes at Darra, when ho opened himself a bit to me." 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss waited, not liking to appear intrusive. 
 
 "Aren't you going to smoke?" she asked presentl3^ 
 
 "You don't mind ? It keeps the mosquitoes away, any- 
 how." He prepared and lighted his pipe, puffing medita- 
 tively for a few moments. 
 
 "There's a lot more in Blanchard tlian appears on the 
 surface," Geneste went on. " He doesn't show himself as he 
 is, in the Cusack atmosphere ; unless," he added, " Miss 
 Cusack's womanly sympathy brings out something of the 
 real man. I can hardly imagine how that could fail to 
 have effect." 
 
 "Yes," Clare assented vaguely, slightly jarred by the 
 allusion to Miss Cusack. " Tell me something about him, 
 if you may." 
 
 " He was a clergyman, educated for and thrown into a 
 family living. It seems to have been something of the 
 Robert Elsmere story. He couldn't preach what he did 
 
134 MRS. TRiGASKISS. 
 
 not believe, and proclaimed himself an agnostic from the 
 family pulpit. Of course he left the church. There was 
 a great quarrel with his father, who disinherited him. 
 Then " 
 
 "He came out here, I suppose." 
 
 "No ; he worked for a bit in the East End of London, 
 and was in the thick of that big strike of the dockers. Now 
 I'm getting on to the confidential part of the opening out, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss, and that, as you can guess, means a 
 woman. When an Englishman over twenty-five takes to 
 the bush, in nine cases out of ten a woman is at the 
 bottom of it." 
 
 Slie longed to ask him whether the statement held good 
 in liis own case, but instead, she remarked : 
 
 " I suppose the Cusacks don't know anything of that 
 story of his leaving the Church. If they did, they would 
 hardly chaff him about being like a bishop. I understand 
 now why he winced." 
 
 " Oh, no," answered Geneste. " I have not mentioned 
 it to anyone but you." Clare's heart warmed with satis- 
 faction : he had not then made a confidante of Helen. 
 " Mrs. Cusack is too kind-hearted to knowingly give any- 
 one pain. I don't think — in fact I am sure that Blanchard 
 would not like it to come to their ears. He has only been 
 there a short time, — came on a mere outside introduction, — 
 and does not wish his antecedents gossiped about. Though 
 he spoke of them to me, he is curiously reticent. I now 
 speak of him to you with the less hesitation, because he 
 happened to say that you were a woman whom a man in- 
 stinctively trusts. I have no doubt that some day, if you 
 care to hear it, he will tell you his own story." 
 
 "I am glad he thinks I can be trusted," she said, and was 
 silent for a minute or two. The discussion at the other 
 end of the veranda had become noisy. It rang monoton- 
 ous changes on the eternal subject of cattle, and on the 
 sharp practices of Cyrus Chance, and the brag of Mr. 
 
BLANCH ARD'S ROMANCE. 155 
 
 Cusack, and did not appear greatly to Mr. Blanchard's 
 taste, for after joining in it for a few moments he strolled 
 to tlie upper level toward his hostess and Dr. Geneste. 
 
 "I see you don't mind smoke, Mrs. Tregaskiss," he be- 
 gan, and added, with a certain shyness : "I wish you would 
 let us see your drawing-room ; we have been sitting all the 
 time in tlie veranda, and I am told that it is so pretty and 
 uncommon — like an English room. It would be nice to see 
 an English room again." 
 
 Clare got up. " You shall see it, certainly ; but mine isn't 
 an English room at all ; it's much more a barbaric one, with 
 it's South-Sea Island things ; and it isn't pretty either, and 
 you mustn't expect anything fine like your grand Brinda 
 Plains drawing-room. Ning and I always feel very humble 
 when we come back after a visit there. Mine is only a col- 
 lection of rubbish and home-made odds and ends, and no 
 one admires it except Mr. Chance." 
 
 " I did not know," said Geneste, " that Cyrus Chance ever 
 gave himself the opportunitj' of admiring a lady's drawing- 
 room." 
 
 " Ah, as he put it to-day, the merit of mine lies in the 
 fact that it can't have run over a ten-pound note," answered 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss. "Come, we will have some music. Mr. 
 Blanchard, you will sing to us." 
 
 She led tlie way to the lower building. The windows 
 of the sitting-room were open front and back, and made it 
 comparatively cool, and the dim light of two or three 
 shaded lamps offered less attraction to the winged things 
 than the unshielded one by which 'Gusta was clearing the 
 dinner-table in the next room. Tlie night was so still that, 
 notwithstanding the complete draught, the lamps did not 
 flare. 
 
 " It is a pretty room," said Blanchard. " I never saw one 
 like it." 
 
 That was not surprising. Mrs. Tregaskiss had utilised 
 homely material, which everyone else on the Leura would 
 11 
 
156 MRS. TEEGASKISS. 
 
 have despised. Moi'eover, she had not learned how to mix 
 coloin-s in the Warraker studio for nothing. It was nearly- 
 all her own handiwork, and that of stray Iielpers in the 
 shape of Chinamen, Kanaka boys, and good-natured stock- 
 men and new chums. Tregaskiss' part was a fiction of his 
 wife's generous imagination. At any rate, all trace of it had 
 disappeared. The walls were of brown canvas, upon which 
 was stretclied South-Sea Island tapa, painted in queer bar- 
 baric patterns, orange, brown, and dull red and blue. 
 Where the tapa ran short she had carried out a suggestion 
 of it as background, in blue and ochreish red, and had fixed 
 upon it spears, paddles, grotesque figureheads of canoes, 
 shields, arrows, and all kinds of native weapons, and from 
 the rough rafters wliich supported the inner-drawn canvas 
 ceiling, she had hung a number of quaint South-Sea gourds. 
 All these spoils had come from a trading vessel that had 
 put into Port Victoria, and which Clare had boarded with 
 her husband in search of a Kanaka servant. She had 
 admired, bargained, and at last, to Keith's derisive amuse- 
 ment, purchased. The woodwork of the room was of brown 
 wood, in its natural grain, and on lier curtains Clare had 
 embroidered barbaric designs to match the tapa. Matting 
 covered the earthen floor, and on it lay rugs and a great 
 hearth-rug of native dog skins. The big fireplace was 
 stacked with melons, yellow and green, and banked by 
 maiden-hair ferns. On each side were low, rudely manu- 
 factured sofas, their broad seats upholstered in a fine sort 
 of South-Sea Island matting, witli quantities of great 
 downy cushions making big blotclies of colour. There 
 were books in plentj% cushioned squatters' chairs, and one 
 or two good etcliings, — survival of Queen's Gate da^^s, — a 
 writing table with English equipments, a little silver table, 
 and many photographs. Among these, the big Mendels- 
 sohn portrait of Gladys Hilditch took a prominent place. 
 
 " It isn't a bit English, but it's arranged just like an 
 English room," yonng Blaiichard was conceding, when he 
 
BLANCHARD'S ROMANCE. 151 
 
 stopped suddenly, his gaze arrested by the photograph, 
 which he looked at for a moment with mere curiosity, and 
 then witli a startled interest that made Clare wonder. 
 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss," he exclaimed, his voice shaking in 
 spite of his effort to control it, " who — where did you get 
 this ? " 
 
 Clare repeated the story of the photograph almost as she 
 had told it to Cyrus Chance. " You know my friend, Mrs. 
 Hilditch?" she asked unnecessarily, for the young man's 
 pale face and glowing eyes, full of agitation, were a plain 
 answer to her question. 
 
 "She — they had a house near my people," he stammered. 
 
 Clare pointed to the mourning dress. " Then you must 
 have heard whether this means that she has lately had a 
 great trouble." 
 
 " I — how should I know ? " he said confusedly. " Do you 
 mean that her husband is dead ? Oh, no ! He was not a 
 young man, and when 1 knew tliem he was an invalid — 
 creeping paralysis it was. But they said he would live for 
 years and years, and not get any worse or any better. Slie 
 was good to Iiitn, though lie must have tried hei' greatly. I 
 admired her for that." 
 
 Blanchard had finished his explanation in a mechanical 
 manner. 
 
 " No," he added abruptly, " I don't know. I never 
 hear from my people." 
 
 He turned away as he spoke, and stood for several min- 
 utes in silence, his back toward them. Geneste was 
 watching Clare, trying to interpret the curious expression 
 upon her face. It made him think of the wistful smile 
 a lost spirit might wear, when watcliing the admission of 
 a more fortunate soul into pai'adise. Then it changed into 
 a look with something in it of self-horror. She caught 
 Geneste's eyes. Her lips quivered, and her eyes pierced 
 his with a reproachful gaze, which seemed to say : " Why 
 are you always finding me out ? " 
 
158 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Won't you play something ? " he asked, in quite a mat- 
 ter-of-fact tone. " Do, Blanchard, go and get some of 
 your songs." 
 
 Clare sat down and struck a few wandering chords, run- 
 ning them into a sort of accompaniment. Blanchard, mut- 
 tering something about " music " and his valise, disappeared. 
 
 " That was rather a facer for poor Blanchard," said 
 Geneste. 
 
 "Do you mean that she — Gladys — was the woman ?" 
 
 " I suppose so ; he did not tell me her name, but the fact 
 seems to speak of itself." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I dare say he was in love with her, but not 
 Gladys. She couldn't have cared for him." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, she wasn't like that ! We — she looked upon that 
 kind of thing as sacred. It was her ideal. Siie chose to 
 give it up because she believed it unattainable and she 
 wouldn't be contented with anything short of the best. Of 
 course she never cared at all for poor Mr. Hilditch, but she 
 was quite honest, and told him so." 
 
 " And you," he said, striking off the subject of Gladys 
 and Blanchai'd — " was tliat why you married too ? Had 
 you given up your ideal because you believed it unattain- 
 able." 
 
 " No — I — yes. I gave it up. I don't know why you 
 always make me tell you the truth. I am very glad I 
 gave it up. An ideal is alwaj'^s safe — wlien it is never 
 realised." 
 
 " You are wrong — like many a cynic," he said, in a low 
 voice. " It is possible to realise one ideal on earth — tlie 
 ideal of love. I wonder if you will ever find that out ? " 
 
 "I hope not," she answered. 
 
 " If you do not," he went on, " you will have lived without 
 experience of the one perfect human joy. If, on the other 
 hand, you do find it out, you may be laying up for yourself 
 the most exquisite of human pains. I don't know which to 
 
BLANCHARD'S ROMANCE. 159 
 
 hope for you, but I cannot feel that you will live out your 
 life in ignorance." 
 
 She went on playing for a few minutes. Then she said 
 with studied indifference, reverting to the former subject : 
 
 " I don't think Mr. Blanchard can have known Gladys 
 Hilditch very intimately. If he had done so she would 
 have spoken to him of me, and he would not have been so 
 taken aback at the sight of her photograph in my house." 
 
 " Isn't that a feminine induction ? When a man and a 
 woman are very much engrossed witli each other, tliey are 
 apt to forget tlieir friends, especially if they haven't met — 
 the friends, I mean — for a long time." 
 
 " More than ten years," said Clare. " And Gladys is a 
 bad correspondent." 
 
 " Were you greatly devoted to Mrs. Hilditch ? I have 
 lieard you mention her before. Are you the kind of woman 
 to be wholly devoted to anotlier woman ? " 
 
 " No. I don't think I was ever the kind of woman to be 
 wholly devoted to anyone. But Gladys was the only real 
 girl-friend I ever had." 
 
 " So you were always lonely," he said. "Lonely, grand, 
 and mysterious, like the Sphinx of the desert." He broke 
 off with a laugh that covered his romantic manner of 
 speech. " I told you before that you were like the 
 Sphinx." 
 
 " The sphinxes on the Embankment. Yes, people used to 
 say I had their type of features. But I don't think there's 
 anything else sphinx-like about me. Dr. Geneste. Life on 
 tlie Leura doesn't suggest mysteries. For me, it's only a 
 very dull round of" — she paused for an instant — "of 
 commonplace duties." 
 
 " Performed with a brave smile, when you know, and I 
 know, that your heart and intellect and soul must be 
 enduring slow agonies of starvation. I once saw you 
 unmasked, remember. There's no use in pretending."- 
 
 Their eyes interchanged a look, and hers drooped. 
 
160 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " No," she answered, after a moment, " there's no use in 
 pretending, and starvation of the soul is slow agonj' — as 
 bad as physical starvation, and lasting much longer. But 
 I suppose even that must come to an end some day. Don't 
 talk of me anj^ more." 
 
 Mr. Blanchard came in with a roll of music. If the sight 
 of Gladys Hilditch's picture had caused him an emoticn, 
 he had pulled himself together by this time. 
 
 "I brought over two or three songs, Mrs. Tregasliiss, tliat 
 I think you may like," he said composedly. " Perhaps you 
 wouldn't mind trying over the accompaniments." 
 
 His eyes looked smarting and a little wild, Clare thought, 
 but bis lips were set very determinedly. " I wonder if he 
 was really in love with Gladys," she said to herself. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " ENGLISH MAIL." 
 
 Sunday morning was late and lazy at Mount Wombo, for 
 everyone but its mistress and the faithful Hanny, as Ning 
 called Mr. Hansen, who, true to his offer of help, appeared at 
 the dairy door when Clare set to work on the milk pans. 
 The excellent Ah Sin had no vocation here, and Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss had long made the dairy one of her " duties." 
 Tregaskiss lay in bed as long as was possible. Wlien he 
 appeared, he looked puffy, dull, and his eyes were 
 bloodshot. From these signs Geneste drew his own con- 
 clusions, confirmed later by Hansen's remark that the boss 
 had made rather a night of it, in talking "strike" and 
 whetting his wrath against the strikers. Geneste had gone 
 to bed before the others, and Blanchard had said good- 
 night early, and had gone to smoke a pipe by the lagoons, 
 and, his friend conjectured, to dream about Gladj-s Hilditch. 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss made tea, and was reserved and polite. 
 Siie looked cool, pale, and calm in her gray cotton gown 
 fashioned with a certain classical simplicity unknown on 
 the Leura, where the ladies were given to furbelows and 
 home-made copies of the plates in the Quee^i. Ning 
 handed round the coffee cups, and chattered enough to 
 hide her mother's preoccupation and Tregaskiss' morose 
 silence. After breafast the men lounged about the lower 
 veranda, smoked, read papers, and wrote letters in readi- 
 ness for Jemmy Rodd, the mailman, who was expected 
 that day. It was a relief to Blanchard to find that morn- 
 ing service was not read by either master or mistress, for 
 he had suffered from the fuss and ceremony with which 
 
162 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " church " — obligatory upon all station hands — was con- 
 ducted by the Cusacks. Clare held her own religious exer- 
 cises in the veranda upstairs, where Geneste, dragged by 
 Ning, found her giving instruction to Claribel, a half-caste 
 gin from the camp called Lona, who was nursing a very 
 young pickaninny, and a half-caste boy, son of one of the 
 black boys and a white woman. She was dismissing her 
 class when he came up, and as soon as her pupils had gone, 
 she burst into a laugh of real merriment, almost the first he 
 had heard from her lips. 
 
 "I must tell you something that Peter said just now ! " 
 she exclaimed. " Peter is the little half-caste boy, and he is 
 ever so much sharper than either Lona or Claribel. Lona 
 is not one of my regular pupils ; she is really a Eungella 
 black, and is over here with her tribe. I am trying to 
 teach them a few elementary truths about astronom3% as 
 well as a little othodox religion, and was explaining that 
 as we revolved on our own axis, it was the same sun we 
 saw every morning, whereupon Peter confounded me by 
 remarking : ' My not think it much of that fellow God. 
 What for he no make it new sun every morning ? What 
 for always use up old one ? ' " 
 
 " Hi, Clare ! " shouted Tragaskiss, from the lower level. 
 " Here's Rodd. Ask Geneste if he wants his mail-bag, or 
 if it is to go on to Darra ? " 
 
 Geneste and Clare went round to the back veranda, 
 which looked down upon the yard. Jemmy Rodd had just 
 arrived and was undoing his bundle of leather mail-bags, 
 each sealed with the big official seal. " Good-day, Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss ! " said Rodd, interrupting what seemed to be a 
 stormy colloquy with Tregaskiss. Tiie master of Mount 
 Wombo was sputtering out imprecations over a piece of 
 news the mailman had brought him. 
 
 "By the Lord, I'll let them have it if I can get a chance ! " 
 he was shouting. " I'll insist upon the police turning 
 out. It's a disgrace to a civilised country. What do you 
 
"ENGLISH MAIL." 163 
 
 think of this ? " he called out to Geneste. " Those devils of 
 strikers have cut the throats of three of my best horses, and 
 my drays are stuck up on the other side of Ugandah. I 
 hear they've burned down Craig's woolshed, and are com- 
 ing tiiis way. We shall have to arm, and by the Lord, I'll 
 give tliem no quarter ! " 
 
 " Oh, they'll be making for the big sheep-owners first," 
 said Rodd consolingly, " Good-day, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! the 
 little Leura Terror has got a load this time. Don't you 
 be frightened, ma'am. They are mostly unionist shearers 
 under Kelso, and it '11 be the turn of Brinda Plains before 
 it's yours." 
 
 " My best dray-horses ! " roared Tregaskiss. " Look here, 
 Hansen, we will start the first thing to-morrow ; and see that 
 the fire-arms are all cleaned." 
 
 He stormed out threats for a few minutes, not sparing 
 oaths. Geneste had gone down the steps and got his mail- 
 bag, which he opened, taking out his letters and papers and 
 delivering the bag again to Rodd. 
 
 "Tiiese are for the Darra hands. I needn't seal it, 
 Rodd. Mrs. Tregaskiss, don't you want your letters? 
 Shall I bring them up to you ? I see there's an English 
 mail in." 
 
 At the word " English mail," the new chums drew closer, 
 and Tregaskiss cut the string of the bag, sorting out the 
 contents in little packets. There were three or four for 
 Clare, and these Geneste took to her and went back to the 
 group of men. When later he returned to Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss, she was sitting at her own corner of the veranda, read- 
 ing a letter of thin foreign sheets. She looked up and 
 asked Jiira for particulars of the outrage. He understood 
 that it was not from apathy she had escaped, but to avoid 
 the sound of her husband's oaths. Tregaskiss was one of 
 those men whom the presence of a lady would not restrain 
 from swearing, certainly not that of his wife. There was 
 nothing more to tell. Rodd's information was so meagre 
 
164 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 that it was certain Jemmy tbe Liar was for once keeping 
 to the strict truth, and that the non-arrival of the drays 
 was accounted for. Blanchard came up with another 
 letter for Mrs. Tregaskiss, which had been sorted into the 
 wrong pack. 
 
 " Have you got yours ? " asked Geneste. 
 
 " No," he answered ; " tliey are in tlie Brinda bag. 
 It doesn't matter. I don't expect anything from Eng- 
 land." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Clare, looking in a puzzled manner at 
 the one he had brought her, " this is from Gladys too ! 
 I can't make it out." 
 
 Blanchard deliberately sat down and took up a news- 
 paper Geneste had been reading. Clare looked up with 
 bright, excited eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Blanchard, I've got news for you. You said you 
 knew Mrs. Hilditch. Well, before very long you'll per- 
 haps see ber. She is coming here ! " 
 
 Blanchard gave an odd little gasp, and went very white. 
 The voice in which he answered was quite mechanical. 
 
 " Coming here ? How is that ? " 
 
 " Mr. Hilditch is dead. He had a dreadful illness. He 
 died, — let me see, — it must be nearly a year ago. Gladys 
 has been ill too. She has had something wrong with her 
 nerves, and the doctors have ordered her a voyage. She 
 is coming out by the British India line and will stop at 
 Port Victoria. To think of Gladys at Port Victoria ! " 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss laughed — again with the note of girlish 
 gladness. The thought of seeing Gladys seemed a renewal 
 of youth. Blanchard said not a word. She went on : "I 
 ought to have got this when she sent the photograph. She 
 was going to sail immediately." She ran her eyes over 
 the second letter. 
 
 " This is from Gladys too — from Colombo. She was 
 breaking the voyage there. It's like a play when the an- 
 nouncement and the arrival come tocrether. She will be 
 
"ENGLISH MAIL." 165 
 
 at Port Victoria by tlie next boat, and she wants to come 
 up here." 
 
 Geneste remembered that he had a letter to send by- 
 Jemmy Rodd, and left the other two together. Clare 
 looked at Mr. Blanchard, full. 
 
 " Tell me," she asked, " did you know Mrs. Hilditch 
 very well ? " 
 
 Blanchard hesitated. " I knew her," he said, — "I think I 
 knew her pretty well." 
 
 " She never talked to you about me? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Yes, I remember her saying that she had a 
 friend who was married, and in Australia, but she did not 
 mention your name. Mrs. Hilditch," he added, after a mo- 
 ment, " was extremely — modern. She went forward, and 
 looked forward, rather than backward. She was very 
 much taken up with life, as it moved at the moment, round 
 her. She always wanted to be up to date and to march 
 with the new ideas." 
 
 " Gladys always was full of ideas." 
 
 "But she did not hold to her ideas for long at a time. 
 She only cared for them if they meant a new sensation. I 
 think she got into a way of looking upon life as a drama, 
 which must be exciting, if nothing else. Contrasts were 
 delightful to her. She was essentially a woman of luxurj% 
 but she liked playing at East-End work, and touching hands 
 with sordid tragedy, for the sake of enjoying her ease and 
 luxury the more when she came back to them." 
 
 There was great bitterness in his tone. 
 
 " I knew Gladys Warraker well, Mr. Blanchard," cried 
 Clare indignantly, " and I know that you are unjust to 
 her ! " 
 
 " Ah ! but you have not known Gladys Hilditch," he 
 answered. " If you had you would understand that I am 
 only quoting her own estimate of herself. I think," lie 
 added, " that her marriage and her immense riches must 
 have made a great change in her. She had a trying life 
 
166 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 with her invalid husband, and she took what distraction 
 siie could abroad." 
 
 " I never saw Mr. Hilditch. He was a wealthy ship- 
 owner, wasn't he ? Tell me what he was like." 
 
 Blanchard hesitated again. 
 
 " He was like Oh, tlie type of conventional nouveau 
 
 riche describes hira sufficiently. He was not a bad sort, 
 but he was vulgar and a bore. He used to sit at the head 
 of his diuner-table, wheeled in ; and he talked a good deal 
 about himself, and drew people's attention to his wife's 
 jewels, and to tlie points in her painters admired." 
 
 " And now he is dead." 
 
 " Now he is dead," repeated Blanchard calmly. 
 
 " Mr. Blanchard," said Mrs. Tregaskiss boldly, " shall 
 you be glad or sorry to see Gladys Hilditch again ? " 
 
 His face worked slightly. 
 
 " It is hard to say. I shall be sorry because it will be a 
 revival of some painful associations. I shall be glad because 
 one is always glad, Mrs. Tregaskiss, to see a woman who has 
 once deeply interested him. It's not possible to help it." 
 
 " Once ? " she said. 
 
 He did not reply. 
 
 She half stretched out her hand in an impulsive move- 
 ment. 
 
 " I am Gladys' friend, and I don't think when we come 
 together that she will keep many secrets from me. If I 
 can help you in any way, you may trust me." 
 
 " I know that. But, with regard to Mrs. Hilditch, there 
 is nothing in which you can help me. I dare say Geneste 
 told you something of what I mentioned to him — about my 
 life?" he added abruptly. 
 
 " Yes ; only a bald outline. He spoke of your career as 
 a clergyman. Please let me say that I admire and honour 
 you for your courage and honesty." 
 
 " Oh, that ! Of course, there was nothing else to do. 
 Besides, it meant liberation from a great sham." 
 
"ENGLISH MAIL." 167 
 
 " But it destroyed your worldly prospects." 
 
 " I suppose it did. That, however, is not important. 
 I was sorry about some things — the working with the poor 
 and such lilte. I tried being a sort of lay preacher of the 
 humanities in the East End, but " He stopped. 
 
 " Gladys interfered," mentally filled in Clare. " Dr. 
 Geneste told me nothing confidential," she said aloud. 
 " He thought j'ou would not mind my knowing that 
 much." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am very glad. In fact, I gave him a sort 
 of permission — if you cared. It's very good of you to be 
 interested in m.e, Mrs. Tregaskiss, and of Geneste, too. 
 He has got a way of worming out one's secrets. I don't 
 mean anything disparaging — quite the reverse. But some- 
 thing in him compels a fellow to speak out from the inside 
 of him." 
 
 " Yes, I have felt that." 
 
 " It's his power of sympathy, I suppose, and the sense of 
 a common bond of suffering. He has gone through a good 
 deal himself." 
 
 " I should fancy that being a doctor has taught him to 
 understand human nature," said Clare. 
 
 Blanchard's words had lifted a vague weight from her 
 mind. She had been a little troubled at, and just a little 
 ashamed of, this tendency in herself to reveal the inner 
 things of her mind to Dr. Geneste. It seemed to indicate 
 an attraction — something she could not think of witliout a 
 faint blush ; something which she would not even put into 
 words. But if Blanchard, who was a man, felt the same, 
 wliy should she mind ? 
 
 " Not only that," Blanchard answered ; " though I dare 
 say it has a good deal to do with it. I believe he Mas 
 thought a good deal of as a physician, Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 I've come across I'eferences to him, and I've read some 
 things he has written. No, it isn't only that. I wonder 
 if this would be a bi'each of confidence ? I can't think so. 
 
168 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 He invited my confidence by partly giving me liis own. 
 Geneste veiy nearly wrecked his life for a woman." 
 
 " All ! " 
 
 " But he had the strength to — flee temptation. That's 
 what an infatuation for an unworthy woman means, even 
 if a man intends to marry her." 
 
 " You seem to half imply Mr. Blanchard, it is not 
 
 possible that you can have the faintest notion in your mind 
 of Gladys Hilditch ! " 
 
 " God forbid ! Let us leave Mrs. Hilditch out of the 
 question, Mrs. Tregaskiss. I see you have jumped at a 
 conclusion, not unnatural. My ridiculous upset at the 
 sight of her photograph — and — all the rest. But I assure 
 you that I am nothing to Mrs. Hilditch, nor she to me, 
 beyond being, as I said, a lady in whom I was once much 
 interested." 
 
 He got up, as if to close the conversation, but lingered, 
 fidgetting with the newspaper. 
 
 " I thank you sincerely all the same, Mrs. Tregaskiss ; 
 and, as you say, I dare say Mrs. Hilditch will tell you 
 anything there may be to tell." After a moment or two 
 he added, in a different tone : " I am glad you like Geneste. 
 I've got to know him pretty well. You see, he is a good 
 deal at Brinda Plains. It's bad luck for him, that lame 
 leg. Cripples him a bit, and puts a stop to his wild life. 
 An explorer among dangerous blacks needs to be sound of 
 wind and limb." 
 
 " Yes. Is Dr. Geneste sorry to give all that up ? " 
 
 " ISTo, I don't fancy so. He is not so young as lie was. 
 And, after all, he has done splendid service in opening up 
 the country. I almost wonder he doesn't go back to Eng- 
 land. He keeps touch with it by his articles. I suppose 
 you read the one in the Nineteenth Century ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Clare. " Perhaps," she added, " there is an 
 attraction on the Leura for Dr. Geneste." 
 
 " You mean Miss Cusack ? He's old for her, Mrs. Tre- 
 
"ENGLISH MAIL." 169 
 
 gaskiss ; and Geneste couldn't be in love with tliat girl, 
 charming and pretty and angelic as she is, in the way that 
 a man like him would be in love with a woman — has been 
 in love with a woman. Still, that would be the salvation 
 of tlie affair, don't you think, if he did marry her ? He 
 has gone through all the fiery business, and his feeling for 
 her would be quite different — more tender and more pro- 
 tecting, but not love." 
 
 " You think he will marry her ? " said Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Yes, I often fancy so. I can't help thinking," Blanch- 
 ard went on, unconsciously following out poor Helen's 
 train of thought, " that, if Elaine hadn't pined herself to 
 death, Lancelot would have married her in the long run, 
 and settled down comfortably at Camelot. I had an idea, 
 some little time ago, tliat they were almost, if not quite, 
 engaged, but I've changed my opinion since he was last 
 over. If anybody is in the running now, it looks like 
 young Gillespie. Slie is a nice girl, Mrs. Tregaskiss, — 
 just the sort of a girl a fellow would like his sister 
 to be." 
 
 Mr. Hansen lounged up, leading Ning, his ugly face all 
 abeam with content. 
 
 " Isn't she good, the Pickaninny ? I say, Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 the boss sent me to tell you that he'd be glad for you to go 
 down to the office. He's posting up the station log. I 
 offered to write it, but he said no one but you knew what 
 had been doing. I must say I am enjoying to-day," Mr. 
 Hansen went on, in a burst of confidence as he accompanied 
 Clare down the veranda. " The Pickaninny is splendid 
 company ; and it's awfully jolly to come to a place on 
 Sunday and find everybody clean and camping in the ver- 
 anda, you know, especially when you get a good dinner, 
 and the mail comes in, and there are the papers to read. 
 You see, one is taught a religion when one is a youngster," 
 added Mr. Hansen apologetically, " and the least you can do 
 
170 MRS. TREGASKIS8. 
 
 to keep it up is to camp on SuDday and wear a coat and a 
 white sliirt." 
 
 Blanchard laughed. It was a compendium of bush 
 orthodoxy. To put on a clean shirt and to camp on Sun- 
 day is the stockman's open profession of allegiance to a 
 Higher Being. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DOWN WITH FBVEE. 
 
 It was a week later. Clave Tregaskiss was alone at 
 Mohnt Wombo. Tregaskiss and Mr. Hansen had started 
 off with pack-horses to bring back what they could save from 
 tlie wreckage of the drays. Mr. Hansen had returned with 
 Jo Ramm and his team of bullocks, pressed into the service, 
 carrying most of the loading, but Tregaskiss had gone to 
 llgandah, and was still absent. Times were turbulent just 
 now on the Leura, and no doubt he wished to be where liis 
 presence was most likely to be useful — at the headquarters 
 of the Pastoralist Committee. So liis wife reasoned. He 
 had offered a reward in hopes of discovering the per- 
 petrators of the outrage upon his horses, and it was owing 
 to his urgent complaints, as much as to Mr. Cusack's 
 frenzied entreaties for police protection, that a military 
 patrol had been told off for the district and a force of 
 special constables enrolled. The delayed shearing was 
 proceeding vigorously at Brinda Plains and at other of 
 the large sheep-stations employing southern labour, and so 
 incensed were tlie unionists that they threatened to burn 
 every one of the woolsheds, and to wreck the train bearing 
 wool bales from Cedar Hill to Port Victoria. 
 
 There was little or nothing to fear for Mount Wombo, 
 unless it were on the score of Tregaskiss' personal unpopu- 
 larity, to which, no doubt, was owing the loss lie had sus- 
 tained in the sticking up of his drays. Mount Wombo, 
 Darra-Darra, and a few others were cattle-stations and em- 
 ployed but a few men. Tregaskiss, at any rate, appeared 
 to take it for granted that his wife was perfectly safe with 
 13 iTi 
 
1T2 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 no other protectors than Shand and the two Chinamen. 
 Hansen had gone back to the out-station, where he was 
 more needed, as a muster was going on, and besides there 
 was extra work at the bore, in view of the continued 
 drought, and even Mr. Shand was absent a whole day 
 at a time, carrying rations thither. 
 
 Clare Tregaskiss was not nervous in the sense in which 
 ordinary women are nervous. In fact, she rather relished 
 the fillip to her monotonous existence. And then — oh, 
 miserable certainty ! long since established in her mind, the 
 absence of her husband was an untold relief. She roused 
 herself by an effort of will from the dreamy mood into 
 which she had lately fallen. She had got into a way of 
 brooding restlessly upon the limitations of lier lot. 
 Geneste's words haunted her. It did seem hard that she 
 would never know the sweetest of human joys. He had 
 known it, or he could not have spoken with so much 
 fervour. Had he then so loved the worthless woman upon 
 whom he had so nearly, according to Blanchard, thrown 
 away his life. Could she have been worthless, if he so 
 loved her? She wondered and wondered, and, somehow, 
 in their brief acquaintance every look, word, gesture 
 of Geneste's seemed to stand out and acquire a new 
 significance. 
 
 She was wise enough to know that this brooding was 
 unhealthy, but her very preoccupation enabled her to 
 bear more calmly the jar of Tregaskiss' companionship. 
 Now that he was gone she could throw herself more 
 readily into her daily tasks. She set to work upon some 
 calico frocks for Ning, and began a campaign against 
 'Gusta's negligences. She had the bachelors' quarters 
 cleansed and reorganised ; the store put tidj^, and certain 
 alterations made in the arrangement of the furniture of 
 the house. Much of this she did with her own hands ; 
 and it was in trying to move a heavy table that she 
 strained her back, and then one day discovered that her 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 173 
 
 body was aching disproportionately, and that she was very 
 cold, though the thermometer stood over 100°. When 
 the fits of shivering were followed by severer pain, and by 
 fever and giddiness, she knew, without being told, that she 
 was in for a toucli of Northern fever. 
 
 The second day that it racked her, — or rather the fourth 
 from her seizure, for this fever holds its victim on alternate 
 days, — as ill luck would have it, butchers came and Mr. 
 Shand was compelled to take them to a distant part of the 
 run, which involved two nights away from the head-station. 
 He left her with uneasiness and regret, but lie could do 
 nothing except send a message to Tregaskiss by the mail- 
 man, who was passing, and another to Jo Ramm's wife, who 
 camped with her husband's drays some twenty miles dis- 
 tant, begging her to take the first opportunity of getting 
 to Mount Wonibo. Mrs. Ramm was one of the resources 
 of the district when servants ran short or a sick nurse was 
 wanted. 
 
 All day Clare lay aching, burning, and dizzy, with 
 barely energy enough to take such simple remedies" as sug- 
 gested themselves, and helpless under the clumsy minis- 
 trations of the half-castes, 'Gusta, and Ah Sin. She 
 remained stretched upon the sofa in the drawing-room, 
 wrapped in her opossum cloak, though the heat was 
 scorching outside, seeing curious visions and delmled by 
 wandering fancies, longing, when she could think col- 
 lectedly, that the hours would pass and bring her to the 
 off-day of comparative ease. 
 
 It was four o'clock. Niug was playing with her doll by 
 her mother's side, acting a tragedy of " debil-debil." The 
 child's imagination, fed by the legends of the blacks' 
 camp, had of late been exercising itself upon this mythical 
 personage. 
 
 "Kai! Here, you pickaninny, you stop inside there," 
 rehearsed King, putting her doll in the centre of a circle 
 on the carpet defined by tiny heaps of twigs, which she 
 
1Y4 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 called her fires. She had seen Claribel light fires round 
 the playground to keep debil-debil away. " Mummy, ray 
 make plenty fire, and suppose debil-debil look after 
 pickaninny, he sit down along side fire and pickaninny 
 quite safe. Cobbon old, that fellow debil-debil. Cobbon 
 cold — like it mummy. Ba'al he got him 'possum rug. 
 Budgery fire — my mean very good fire. No touch Ning's 
 pickaninny." 
 
 But Ning's dramatic instinct demanded that pickaninny 
 should be naughty and stray beyond the circle into the 
 clutches of debil-debil, who was represented by a nigger 
 doll, mutilated and of a forbidding aspect. Pickaninny 
 was lost under the sofa, whither debil-debil had carried 
 her and Ning tragically roamed the room wringing her 
 hands like a bereft Demeter, and crooning a blacks' 
 " ugal," which the half-caste had taught her as the ac- 
 cepted form of exorcism for debil-debil, or the impish 
 Yo-wi, or anji' other spirit whatsoever. 
 
 " ' Yuru dli3,n nje ; yuri, dli&ri nje. 
 DMa ranja buriila ; yuri dhad nje ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, Ning, child, don't make so much noise ! Mummy 
 has a headache. Mummy is very sick." 
 
 The dogs barked outside. The thud of a horse's hoofs 
 sounded in the yard. Had the unionists come ? Clare 
 wondered vaguely. Ning ceased her outcries as 'Gusta 
 entered. 
 
 " Please, Mrs. Tregaskiss, it's a gentleman." 
 
 Clare roused herself and turned dazed eyes to the door, 
 to encounter the anxious gaze of Geneste. 
 
 "You are ill!" he exclaimed ; "and there's nobody to 
 look after you ? " 
 
 " Mummjr's sick, and pickaninny belong to me is sick, 
 and debil-debil has carried her off, and Ning has bein a 
 good girl, Dr. Geneste, and has not done anything to make 
 mummy worse," announced Ning, upon her knees by the 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 115 
 
 Bofa, diving for lier lost doll, which she had flung far to- 
 Avard the wall. 
 
 " All right, Pickaninny, let me come near your mother 
 and see what is the matter with her. Ah, I know what it 
 is." He had her hand in his and his fingers upon her 
 pulse. " You have got a touch of fever. When did it 
 come on ? " 
 
 " I don't know — I'm all aching and confused. Yes, I sup- 
 pose it's fever. Is Keith with you ? " 
 
 "He's at Ilgandah, harrying the Pastoralist Committee. 
 They've been having rows there. No, the fact is, Rodd 
 passed and left some sort of message about your being- 
 alone, and that I was to tell Tregaskiss if I saw hini, and 
 as I didn't quite like the notion of your being left witli 
 only those two Chinamen, I hurried along. Lucky I did, 
 too. Mrs. Tregaskiss, this won't do. You must be got to 
 bed at once." 
 
 He went out and called 'Gusta and Claribel, and among 
 them they prepared Clare's bed, and he carried her in, 
 leaving the two women to undress her. Afterward he 
 routed about Tregaskiss' office and found the medicine- 
 chest and the medicine he wanted. When he came back 
 Clare was in bed, her eyes wild and her speech wandering. 
 There were alternations of shivering and fever, and he saw 
 that she was in for rather a bad bout. He gave her lauda- 
 num to induce perspiration, and by and by she got 
 quieter. With the deftness of a nurse, he moved about 
 getting her all that could make her more comfortable, and 
 oddly enough, there seemed nothing strange to her in his 
 attendance — it was as though she had been used to it long, 
 long ago, and his very presence brought a sense of rest and 
 soothing indescribably delightful. 
 
 Geneste was perplexed. Clearly she was not in a condi- 
 tion to be left to the tender mercies of the half-caste and 
 the incompetent 'Gusta. He mentally ran his eye over 
 the list of neighbours, but the only one near was Mrs. Car- 
 
176 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 mody, who needed caving for even more than Clare. 
 He thought of motherly Mrs. Cusack and sympathetic 
 Helen, but Brinda Plains was fifty miles distant and in a 
 state of siege, all tlie men on the station sleeping with 
 fire-arms in readiness, expecting, while the free shearers 
 were at work, an attack on the woolshed. There was not 
 even a stockman's wife available at Darra-Darra, and he 
 had given up the idea of procuring a nurse as hopeless, 
 when the recollection of Mrs. Ramm, the bullock-drover's 
 wife, camped halfway between the two stations, came 
 to him as an inspiration. That evening, when Clare was 
 sleeping under the influence of the opium, he saddled 
 one of Tregaskiss' horses, put a side-saddle on the quietest 
 of the lady's hacks, and went at full speed in search of 
 Mrs. Ramm. It was twenty miles to Jo's camp, and good 
 riding was needed for them to reach Mount Wombo by 
 breakfast time. 
 
 "I have brought someone to look after you," he said to 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss when, after having bathed and dressed, he 
 came to pay her a professional visit. 
 
 She looked the ghost of herself, so pulled down was she 
 and so shaken. Mrs. Ramm came in behind him and made 
 an awkward salutation to the sick mistress. She was the 
 roughest-looking of creatures, short, thick-set, broad-fea- 
 tured, her face pitted with smallpox marks, her wiry iron- 
 gray hair cropped close, "for the convenience of it," her 
 hands, huge, red, and apparently designed by nature for 
 the use of a scrubbing brush. But she was scrupulously 
 clean, and her short dark blue skirt and striped jacket were 
 fresh from the wash. 
 
 " Mrs. Ramm ! " murmured Clare, in astonishment. 
 " Where did you come from?" 
 
 " It's the doctor himself that rode over to the camp last 
 night and fetched me. My word, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! I'd 
 have ridden a hundred miles to see a decent woman again. 
 It's a year and more that I've trudged along beside Ramm 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 117 
 
 and the bullock-dray, or else sat on the wool-bales, and 
 now I'm camping by myself close agen the bore, while he 
 does a job for the road surveyors. I just went to the 
 men's camp to clean up. Lord, it was dirty ! I aint no 
 great shakes, and them men laughed fine at me with my 
 house under the dray. But I says : ' Them as lives in glass 
 bouses sliouldn't shy stones at them as lives in drays.' 
 And I had the laugh of them when I saw all their muck." 
 
 Clare turned an eloquent look of gratitude on Geneste. 
 How her face had changed, he thought ; it had lost that 
 strange masked look. Or was it only when she looked at 
 him that it reflected her real inner self? 
 
 " You went all that way to bring her ? You must have 
 been on horseback the whole night. And you did it for 
 me!" 
 
 " You forget I'm used to that sort of thing. I really 
 couldn't feel happy about you, in the hands of Claribel and 
 'Gusta. Mrs. Ramm may not be an accomplished nurse, 
 but she knows how to make a bed, anyhow, and can keep 
 things a bit tidy about you." 
 
 " 'Deed, sir," said Mrs. Ramm, bridling up as she paused 
 in the act of dusting the looking-glass, "you mustn't 
 think I'm not used to gentle folk's ways. Before I married 
 Ramm I was servant to the Mr. Mickletbwaites, as was 
 just straight from a castle in England. And if you'd a 
 just se'en that house. Satin cushions, and, my word ! a 
 Brussels carpet, and hair-brushes with a silver letter on 
 'em — for all the world like yours, Mrs. Tregaskiss. Not 
 but what you've got a nice place here, and Ramm, he do say 
 it does his heart good to look at the gimcracks and flowers 
 about. I allers holds on to flowers myself, and I mind 
 well, how, thinks I, at them Micklethwaites, this droring- 
 room do look that cheerless, with ne'er a green splurt, or a 
 lady, and I gets a pie dish and puts water in it and picks 
 a lot of shallot tops — there warn't nothing else — and sticks 
 'em in. And my word ! they did look fine, and they 
 
178 MES. TREGA8KISS. 
 
 Binelled beautiful. Tliem gentlemen was that pleased tliey 
 laughed to split their sides when they seed 'em." 
 
 " Well, you needn't put any shallot-tops in here, Mrs. 
 Ramm, for there are plenty of flowers in the garden. 
 And now you shall go and see if Ah Sin hasn't got some- 
 thing good for Mrs. Tregaskiss' breakfast ; and you shall 
 set Ah Sin at once to kill a chicken for broth, and I trust 
 you to bring it to my patient regularly." 
 
 " You are very good to me," said Clare softly, when 
 they were alone. " I don't like to trouble you so." 
 
 He had been preparing a dose, and gave it to her to 
 swallow before he replied. Then he stooped down and 
 touched her hand. He had the physician's touch, cool and 
 healing, a touch which has always something of a mag- 
 netic effect on the nerves. 
 
 " Let me be good to myself by allowing me to stop a 
 day or two and try to be good to you," he said, with a 
 tender intonation in his voice. " You need it, and there 
 are not many to be good to you." 
 
 She did not answer. All day he came in and out, min- 
 istering to her comfort and ease, as a mother or sister 
 might have done. When she said this to him, he laughed, 
 and answered that it showed doctoring was his real voca- 
 tion, since he took so naturally to his old trade. He put 
 her food before her himself, arranging the tray, upon 
 which he laid a pale pink rose, and talked to her, and, 
 when he thought she was tired, read her to sleep. She 
 was not in pain to-day, and there was almost blessedness 
 in the lassitude. His companionship was pleasant, apart 
 from personal considerations. He had seen much, had 
 read much, and had just the touch of sentiment and mys- 
 ticism without which no man can appeal absolutely to a 
 cultivated woman. 
 
 It was long indeed since Clare liad talked of the things 
 she now spoke about to him. Her very weakness and the 
 novelty of the situation contributed to unreserve. She 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 179 
 
 was alone ; slie was helplessly dependent upon him. Hev 
 husband was away ; had not even written to tell her of 
 his whereabouts ; did not appear to concern himself in the 
 least whether she was well or ill, cared for or the reverse. 
 There was not another man, except the two Chinamen and 
 tlie blacks, in the camp during these two days anywhere 
 near her. And here was Geneste, no kin, and in no way 
 called upon to consider her well-being, who had come over 
 because he feared all might not be well, and had ridden 
 all through the night to secure for her the attendance of a 
 responsible woman. She discerned in tliis proceeding a 
 delicate chivalry, which appealed to her in a manner which 
 would perhaps have been foreign to Geneste's own 
 thoughts of the mattei', and who tended her as her hus- 
 band had never done — not from the mere medical point of 
 view, which was natural enough, but with all tliose name- 
 less attendances the sweetness of which lies in the manner 
 of their doing, and with always that undercurrent of emo- 
 tion of which, though she could not put it into words, slie 
 was acutely conscious. 
 
 The next day the fever had her in its grip again. It 
 went through all its stages — shivering and racking pain 
 in every limb, and then burning heat and headache, with 
 strange fancies and grotesque pictures standing out in 
 the darkness of closed eyes ; then laudanum-stupor, with 
 only the consciousness of pain and thirst, and of Geneste 
 standing by, putting wet cloths to her head. She was 
 feebly delirious, though she was unaware of it, and in her 
 babblings revealed herself to Geneste, — who purposely kept 
 Mrs. Raram from the room, — with tlie frankness of a child 
 telling its mother of its sufferings. His heart ached with 
 pity as he listened. What a horrible misfit this was of 
 Fate ! he thought, as the sensitive, scourged soul laid bare 
 its secret pains ; the agonising jar of companionship by 
 day and by night with a nature coarse to the core ; the 
 awakening to doom in her early married months ; the 
 
180 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 morbid hatred at times of the cliildren born of such a union; 
 the ph3'sical aversion to caresses ; the loathing and disgust 
 of spirit-laden breath ; the battle of conscience with all 
 Jier womanly instincts, and the triumph of conscience and 
 martyrdom of self -repression. What a lonely life it had 
 been ! How starved, how cold, how walled in, how beaten 
 down ! He longed to snatch up the fine, tender creature 
 from the defilement of her surroundings ; to bear her 
 away to a refined, luxurious, intellectual home ; to give 
 her the moral and mental food her whole being craved ; 
 to warm her with the fire of passion ; to nourish her with 
 affection, till the poor, bruised, stunted bud should expand 
 and open forth into the glorious flower it was meant 
 should gladden the world. " What might she not be," he 
 said to himself, " to a man who had her heart ! " 
 
 In that hour of delirium he got to know the woman her- 
 self — and he got to know, too, that he loved her. 
 
 He was glad, very glad, that he loved Clare Tregaskiss. 
 Fifteen years before, he had loved a woman of loose morals 
 madly — so madly that but for the accidental discovery of 
 her faithlessness and utter venality he would have married 
 her. Now he loved a good woman, not so recklessly, but 
 with an even surpassing fervour. He was glad to experi- 
 ence the emotion which he had believed would never now 
 come into his life. 
 
 For fifteen years he had foresworn love in its finer ac- 
 ceptation. During the first six or seven of these years, 
 adventure, danger, and the excitement of exploration had 
 been the safety-valve for his restless energies. Women he 
 had not needed. In fact, he had turned from all tliat 
 reminded him of his life of civilisation with an intense 
 revulsion. Then, during two years when he had lived at 
 the northern extremity of Leichardt's Land, he had taken 
 to himself a graceful South-Sea Island girl, for whom, till 
 she was killed tragically by a shark while bathing, he had 
 entertained an animal and half contemptuous affection. 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 181 
 
 Looking back upon this episode since tlie dawning upon 
 him of Clare Tregaskiss, he felt a curious shame. After 
 the girl's death he made liis great expedition across the 
 northern neck of the colony, through a barbarous country 
 and hostile natives, from gulf to ocean, and it was then 
 he had received the spear-wound which lamed him for 
 life. The hurt had caused a troublesome and dangerous 
 inflammation, and had put a stop to the wild exploration 
 he had delighted in. During his forced inaction he had 
 taken up, in a measure, his old scholarly and scientific 
 pursuits, and the former man had begun gradually to re- 
 place the new one. He had even had vague thoughts of 
 going back to England. There was no question now of 
 lung delicac3\ He was not yet beyond the prime of life, 
 and might still have a successful career before him. The 
 Australian career had not been, in the financial sense, a 
 success ; but he had private means, and this did not trouble 
 him. Besides, Darra-Darra, which was not heavily en- 
 cumbered like Mount Wombo, might turn out a profit- 
 able investment when times got better and successive 
 droughts were followed by years of plenty. It was in 
 this wavering mood, when he had half resolved to take a 
 trip to England and look round him before making a final 
 decision as to his future, that he met Helen Cusack. He 
 had got into a way of riding over pretty often to Brinda 
 Plains, which was about as far on the other side of Darra- 
 Darra as Mount Wombo was on this one, mainly because 
 the number of hands emploj'ed there and the prevalence, 
 during the winter, of an influenza epidemic, had called for 
 his professional services, which he gave gratuitously whei\ 
 required. Mrs. Cusack had been rather seriously ill, and 
 during that time he had seen much of Helen. Even before 
 the scene in the garden, it had crossed his mind as a )iot 
 unpleasing possibility that he might marry her and take 
 her with him to England. But for that sudden jerk of 
 the bit, when he had been brought face to face with facts 
 
182 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 and consequences, tlie possibility might have become a 
 reality. It might still have become so later, — for in a 
 reactionary impulse his mood had swayed to the girl and 
 to the joys of domestic life, — but there had intervened the 
 meeting with Mrs. Tregaskiss at Cedar Hill, and their 
 strange night talk at The Grave camp, and his fate was 
 sealed, and Helen's light was henceforth obscured. 
 
 In this case tliere was no reaction, nor were there any 
 doubts. He acknow^ledged to himself, without hesita- 
 tion, that he loved her. He told himself also that his plan 
 of going to England must remain for some time, at any 
 rate, unfulfilled. It would be his duty to himself and to 
 her, as well as his joy, to stay on the Leura, and to do his 
 best to make life more bearable to her. He had no base 
 motives. He meant no harm. She was the last woman 
 with whom he could associate any unworthy desire. It 
 should be a case of beautiful platonics. He loved her. 
 Tliere was nothing disgraceful in that. There would be 
 no shame for her if it were that she loved him. Some- 
 thing told him that she did, or if not yet, that he would 
 not have long to wait. Why should they not love each 
 other? Her lot was hard, her life very lonelJ^ In tiie true 
 sense of the word, she was not married at all. All that she 
 owed was the mere material obligation. From nature and 
 temperament her lawful possessor was quite incapable of 
 appreciating the treasure which a caprice of destiny had 
 allotted him. He foresaw for her even worse times than 
 she had already undergone. The drink habit was growing 
 upon Tregaskiss, as it is apt to do in Australia upon men who 
 have combined it with what is called a " touch of the sun." 
 Geneste had, from rumour and observation, made himself 
 sure of that. This vice might be followed by other vices. 
 Geneste knew, though he had concealed his knowledge 
 from Clare, that the flirtation with Miss Lawford, begun 
 during Mrs. Tregaskiss' absence in Port Victoria, was be- 
 ing commented on in the district, and was a source of 
 
DOWN WITH FEVER. 183 
 
 uneasiness to Mrs. Cusack. He knew, too, that instead of 
 being at Ilgandab with the Pastoralist Committee, Tregas- 
 kiss was spending most of his time at the Ococks, where 
 Miss Lawford was paying a holiday visit. 
 
 Tiiere was, Geneste gleaned, a good deal of gossip rife 
 about the Tregaskisses. Clare was a woman to pique curios- 
 ity, and Tregaskiss' loud manner, his dash and his good-look- 
 ing bloated face and fine Viking physique, attracted atten- 
 tion wherever he went. Geneste could understand that he 
 might dominate a little hysterical brunette like Miss Law- 
 ford. It seemed to be only of late that he had developed 
 a liking for the society of women of a certain rollicking 
 type, and he did not confine his attention to Miss Lawford. 
 Tliere was an inn at Ilgandab, kept by an Irish widow and 
 two daughters, where he put up, and where tlie young 
 women afforded him amusement, of a harmless kind, it is 
 true, but which gave rise to reports derogatory to the dig- 
 nity of Clare Tregaskiss' husband. Though it was generally 
 known that Tregaskiss was heavily in debt to the bank, 
 it was known also that he spent a good deal of money on 
 imported cattle, on wire fencing, the construction of bores, 
 and in other less useful ways. Some people did not scruple 
 to declare that before long he would be sold up ; others 
 maintained that he could not keep race horses, throw his 
 money about at the township, and talk so big, if he were 
 not all safe. Though, to be sure, the keeping of race 
 horses for the northern meetings is not the reckless outlay 
 it might appear. Still, there are concomitant expenses 
 which mount up the total. And then, the world did. not 
 realise that Tregaskiss always talked big — except to his 
 wife. It was an article of his social philosophy so to do. 
 He had made his way in England through talking big on 
 occasions, and he had won Clare Gardyne by talking big 
 about the disinterestedness of his devotion for her. 
 
 Three days passed. Shand and the butchers were still at 
 the out-station, and Tregaskiss did not come. The fever 
 
184 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 had its periodical term, and though this time it was less 
 severe, Mrs. Tregaskiss was weaker. Geneste did all that 
 was possible to keep up her strength. He killed a calf, and 
 himself superintended Ah Sin in the making of broth and 
 jelly. He beat up eggs with brandy, and hour by hour 
 poured nourishment down her throat. When free from 
 pain, except for the prostration, she was quite happy. In 
 those three days she seemed to live a lifetime, and past 
 and future were annihilated, and the present had the luxu- 
 j'ious fantasy of an opium dream. As a matter of fact 
 the laudanum which he gave her had much to do with this 
 impression. 
 
 A day or two later he got her on to the sofa in the draw- 
 ing-room, and there were long idle talks in which she 
 learned much of him and he much of her. In detail she 
 told him little, but the side lights which ber conversation 
 gave were vividly illuminating. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " YOCr OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 
 
 But the interlude must come to an end. Geneste liad 
 been a week at Mount Wombo, and Clare was on the fair 
 way to recovery. The fever attacks had become less and 
 less, and the days of respite now only a dreamy pleasure. 
 Slie spent tlieni mostly on a hammock in the upper veranda. 
 The passion creeper and native cucumber made a shade 
 from the sun and threw wavering reflections upon the 
 boards. Tlie scent of some untimely sandal-wood blos- 
 soms floated up from the enclosure. 
 
 There had been a storm somewhere — over Lake Eungella 
 probably, for alas it had not travelled to the plains, \yhich 
 were brown and bare, while the cattle were bogging in the 
 fast-drying water-holes and dying of thrist and want of 
 grass. But the distant storm had at least cooled the air a 
 little, and there was a faint breeze which made mosquitoes 
 cling to the ceilings. Clare Tregaskiss, in her chhia silk 
 tea-gown, with her delicate refined face, her creamy skin, 
 and deep brown eyes, which had yellow lights, looked her- 
 self not unlike a languorous tropical flower. She had a 
 piece of needlework in her hand, but made verj' few stitches. 
 Geneste sat beside her. He had been down to the China- 
 man's garden, and was preparing a granadilla, while Ning 
 stood by, the two dolls hunched under her arm, watching 
 the operation with deep interest. The baby, Ij'ing on a 
 mat at the other end of the veranda, was crowing up to 
 Claribel, who made blacks' noises for its amusement, Lona, 
 the other half-caste, and her pickaninny down below join- 
 
 185 
 
186 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 ing in every now and then witli a guttural " Yucke ! My 
 •word, that budgery fellow ! " 
 
 The sun was getting near its setting. In the storm 
 quarter a low ridge of clouds was rising. The sti-aight 
 black gidia trunks cast heavy shadows, and their silvery- 
 gray foliage had a livid look. The usual group of horses 
 had gathered round the smoking rubbish heap, and the 
 milkers, a scanty herd in these dry times, -were being driven 
 up to the yard. Presently there was the sound of a stock- 
 whip cracking, and a long " Coo-ee," and then Tommy 
 George, leading a pack-horse, appeared jogging through one 
 of the gidia clearings. He called out something to Lona, 
 ■who took up the story. 
 
 " My word, missus ! mine think it massa come along 
 directly." 
 
 Clare half rose. She had turned very pale. Her low 
 exclamation had in it a sound of dread. Geneste did not 
 stop liis scooping of the granadilla. He sugared the dainty 
 mess and put it before her. 
 
 "Keith is coming," she said. 
 
 " Yes. Lie still. I won't have you getting up to meet 
 him. Besides, he isn't here yet. I'll go and ask Tommy 
 George." 
 
 He went out. Wlien he had gone Clare sank back again ; 
 and a patch of red rose in each of her cheeks. She called 
 Ning to her and gave her the granadilla. " Here, child ! 
 I don't want it." 
 
 Ning took the fruit and ate it slowly, watching her mother 
 all the while with solemn inquisitiveness. " Mummy no 
 glad that daddy is coming back," she said. 
 
 " Oh, you cruel little wretch ! " Clare cried passionately; 
 " what makes you say such things? " 
 
 Ning stared still more. Such ebullitions in her mother 
 were rare. 
 
 "Mine plenty glad daddy come back," she said, with 
 Stoic contentment. " What for ranmmy not glad ? " 
 
" YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 187 
 
 " Oh, go away ! " cried Clare. " Go and play with Clari- 
 bel. Go, all of you, and meet daddy down by the Cross- 
 ing ! " and Ning departed, her solemn gaze liaunting her 
 mother after she had disappeared, like an accusing ghost. 
 
 After a little while Geneste returned. " He will not be 
 here just yet. Tommy George left him at the bore and 
 pushed on to tell you. Well, I'm glad I shall see Tregas- 
 kiss before I leave. I was meaning to go back to Darra 
 to-morrow." 
 
 She said not a word. When he looked at her, he saw 
 that her chest was heaving slightly and her eyes bright 
 with unrestrained tears. 
 
 " Clare," he said softly, putting out his hand and touch- 
 ing hers as it lay on the edge of the hammock, " don't 
 fret. Things aren't worth it." 
 
 " You don't understand," she answered huskily. 
 
 " Yes, I do ; utterly, better perhaps than you know. 
 But you can't alter facts or temperaments. You cannot 
 make a fine steel instrument do the work of a fencer's 
 auger. All you can do is to harden yourself, and to accept 
 life as it is. If you are disappointed at not finding sym- 
 pathy where you have a right to look for it, take your right 
 also to accept it from elsewhere. Harden yourself to the 
 inevitable." 
 
 " Haven't I been doing that for ten years ?" 
 
 " Outwardly, yes ; but within there have been ravening 
 wolves. Oh, I know it is all very well to give advice. 
 It's like saying there is no hurt when one is racked with 
 pain. Do you suppose my heart hasn't bled for you these 
 days ? God knows, I'd give the best part of my life if I 
 could only make things different for you." 
 
 " Don't — don't ! " she gasped hysterically. " I can't bear 
 it. You can't imagine what it is to live always like that. 
 It seems worse when one has been free for a little while." 
 
 " Yes, yes I Indeed I know." 
 
 " I can stand it better after it has gone on day by day, 
 18 
 
188 MRS. TRE6ASKISS. 
 
 for months. But when it comes fresh The smell of 
 
 brandy ! I hate him to kiss me. And then — he gets 
 angry " 
 
 She stopped and turned away her face. 
 
 " Oh, I know ; it is horrible." A thought struck him. 
 
 "Tell me : his temper is bad at times. Has he ever 
 
 Is he ever violent to you ?" 
 
 "Violent?" 
 
 " I mean has he ever ill-used you — struck you ? That 
 kind of thing ? " 
 
 "No, not personal violence. He has been rough, but he 
 is sorry afterward. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I was wondering. If it wei-e a question You know 
 
 there are causes for which the law gives an ill-used wife 
 Ler freedom." 
 
 " I know ; but there could be no question of that. Don't 
 speak of it." 
 
 Tliey were both silent. The words they had spoken to 
 each other marked an immense leap in their intimacy. 
 Tliey had before discussed Tregaskiss increasing liabit of 
 inebriety, which, month by month, week by week, had in 
 the last two years gained a stronger hold on him. 
 
 " I have done all I can," she said. " I liave begged, 
 implored, reasoned, everything. But it doesn't seem to be 
 of the least use, and I think my speaking of it at times 
 makes him almost hate me. Then there is something I 
 learned not very long ago — quite by accident ; he had 
 always kept it from me. His father died of drink. I 
 believe that a curse of that kind is often hereditary. I 
 wish I didn't ; it makes me," — she lowered her voice apd 
 her pained eyes glanced toward him for a moment, — " it 
 makes me frightened for the children. I dread their com- 
 ing. I prayed so that this might be a boy, and like me. 
 Life is always harder for women. Oh," she went on pas- 
 sionately, " such things shouldn't be allowed ! Marriage is 
 awful, — it is wicked, — when it's a marriage like mine." 
 
"YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 189 
 
 " I entirely agree with you. But you must not distress 
 yourself about the idea of hereditary tendency. You 
 have told nie of the slight sunstroke he had. That often 
 causes a want of self-control. I wish you could persuade 
 him that he is not well, and get him to consult me. I 
 might be able to do something — for the moment at any 
 rate — to make things easier for you." 
 
 " He is so strong — he glories in his strength — it would be 
 difficult to persuade him. It isn't fair to trouble you so," 
 she exclaimed. " Why should you worry about me and 
 mine ? " 
 
 "Because I love you," he answered, with perfect calm- 
 ness, not moving in the least toward her, or touching her 
 liand again, only looking at her full, with a sudden lighten- 
 ing and glowing of his eyes. 
 
 She met the look, her own eyes deepening and held by 
 his as though she were succumbing to some mesmeric 
 force. It was a long gaze, and he read in it all he wanted 
 to know. Presently she drew herself back with a slight 
 shudder. 
 
 "You ought not to have said that. You must never 
 say it again." 
 
 "I will not," he answered. " I will never say it till you 
 tell me that I may. But I wanted you to know it ; I wanted 
 you to understand that there is nothing you could ask of 
 me — nothing, which it would not be a joy and a privilege 
 to me to do." 
 
 He got up and walked to the veranda railing without 
 another word. There he stood for several minutes looking 
 out upon the plain. 
 
 "I see your husband coming," he said. "I will go out 
 and meet him and explain your illness to him, and why I 
 am here." 
 
 His self-possession gave her confidence, and his silence 
 appealed to her as no words could have done. Her own, 
 pulses were tingling, and her heart seemed to leap and 
 
190 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 throb in an agony of happiness. It was so terrible, this 
 thing which had befallen her, but it was heavenly sweet. 
 
 " Oh, I do love him ! " she said, in a whisper to herself. 
 " I do love hira, with all my soul." 
 
 The revelation had come upon her with a shock, and yet 
 with a sense of half conscious foreknowledge. It was all 
 clear now, and she understood the power this man had 
 exercised over her from the first. Looking back it seemed 
 to her tliat she had loved him from the moment in which 
 she had opened her eyes from her swoon in the inn at 
 Cedar Hill, and had seen the strong lined face, with its 
 eagle look and piercing gaze, bent over her. She knew 
 now what had made her speak out to him about herself as 
 she had never spoken to any other human being ; under- 
 stood now her vague jealousy of Helen Cusack ; knew why 
 the burden of her marriage and her motherhood had of 
 late seemed more intolerable. It was only nature speak- 
 ing, and nature's eternal and unconquerable law defying 
 the creed of conventions. The truth flashed upon her in 
 a moment. The quiet masterfulness of his abrupt, yet 
 composed, declaration had given her no time for analysis, 
 self-reproach, or indignation. He had not even asked her 
 if she loved him. He had demanded nothing in return for 
 his love. He had only told her of it that she might not 
 scruple to make use of him in any way that she pleased. 
 There was nothing to make her alarmed or angry; nothing 
 which did not cause him to stand out in her imagination 
 as a very knight of chivalry. 
 
 Angry with him ! When he had brought and laid at 
 her feet that which all her life she had held as almost too 
 sacred for common earth — that which she and Gladys had 
 so mistakenly renounced as an ideal impossible of realisa- 
 tion. Though she had bidden him never speak those 
 words again, they would make music in her heart for ever- 
 more : " I love you — I love you." 
 
 She was essentially a pure woman, notwithstanding the 
 
" YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 191 
 
 struggles in her of latent capacity for passion. The 
 thought of unfaithfulness to her husband did not occur to 
 her — unfaithfulness in the material sense ; of spiritual 
 infidelity there could be none, for the spiritual bond had 
 never existed. As she lay back again in her hammock, 
 bathed in the stream of beatitude which flowed over her 
 whole being, she forgot everything but the one blessed 
 and glorious fact that had come into her life and trans- 
 figured it. She forgot that her bondage was still upon 
 her, that her husband would be with her in a few moments, 
 and that his children and hers were welcoming him home. 
 
 The sun was setting ; the storm-clouds had spread 
 higher and looked lurid from the red reflection. Ning's 
 voice sounded below, then Tregaskiss' shout : " Hallo, 
 Pickanniny ! " and with it Clare awakened to reality. She 
 got out of the hammock, and was standing uncertainlj', 
 flushed and agitated, when her husband's heavy step 
 sounded on the veranda stair, and presently he was beside 
 her. Geneste had remained below. 
 
 " Well, Clare," he said, " how are you ? Geneste tells 
 me you've had a touch of fever. I don't believe there 
 can have been much the matter. By Jove, you have 
 got quite a colour ! I never saw you looking better." 
 
 He put his big red hands on her shoulders and kissed her 
 in a rough, perfunctory sort of way. She was oddly struck 
 by a certain curious difference in the manner of his caress. 
 She could not have defined wherein it lay, but was conscious 
 of it, as a woman is intuitively conscious of any variation in 
 the mood toward her of her life companion, whether the 
 companionship be congenial or the reverse. The old thrill 
 of repulsion deepened in her with the whiff of stale brandy 
 in his breath. She was sure he had been drinking rather 
 heavily ; his handsome face was red and puffy, his eyes 
 bloodshot, and there was more than the usual want of 
 nicety in his dress and appearance, which confirmed the 
 impression. His voice, too, had an indescribable thickness, 
 
192 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 and in his manner there was suppressed irritability, mingled 
 with something roystering, a characteristic of it accen- 
 tuated now to a greater degree than was customary. 
 
 "What has Geneste been doing here all this time ?". he 
 asted sharply ; and she winced under the fierce gleam of 
 his eyes. He noticed the sign of discomposure. " It's all 
 nonsense about his doctoring you. I don't believe in that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked resentfully. 
 
 "He could have doctored you and gone back again. 
 Lots of people have fever and go about just the same, ex- 
 cept when the shakes are on them. And fellows have been 
 talking — sniggering and making remarks about his devo- 
 tion to his patient. It isn't as if he was a regular doctor. 
 The butchers started it Ilgandah way, and Cnsack, with 
 his infernal impudence, chaffed me about leaving you to 
 be sick-nursed by a good-looking man." 
 
 " Is that why you came home ? " 
 
 " I came to see how you were, and to send Geneste 
 about his business. I don't choose him to be hanging 
 round making love to my wife. He is not such a tremen- 
 dous saint, as they could tell you further north." 
 
 She reddened, but restrained the indignant impulse to 
 contradict him. 
 
 " It's beastly cheek ! " Tregaskiss went on. " I was very 
 much annoyed at his way of speaking to me just now. 
 Seemed to imply that I had been to blame. Does he sup- 
 pose I am going to stand still and have my property 
 destroyed without stirring a hand to prevent it ?" 
 
 Tregaskiss fumed on. In a calmer mood it might have 
 been evident to her that his dissatisfaction had its rise 
 partly in jealousy, partly in self-reproach. Slie stood still 
 silent, a rush of conflicting emotions torturing her. She 
 was inwardly shame -stricken, indignant, clicked with a 
 passionate aversion for her husband, all the keener because 
 the accusation had not been unfounded, and she was unable 
 
" YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 193 
 
 to stand forth and contemptuously repudiate it. For it 
 was true that Geneste had told Iier he loved her. But that 
 " lie had made love to her " ! No ; that he had not done, 
 would never do. She felt outraged ; her holy of holies 
 had been desecrated. An abominable construction had 
 been put upon what to her was sacred. This, in other and 
 minor matters, had always been the case when her finest 
 self had. come into contact with Tregaskiss' coarser per- 
 sonality. Now the feeling gained a new acuteness from 
 the sanctity of the emotion upon which he was trampling. 
 
 She said, at last, in a studiously quiet voice : 
 
 " If you want to know whether I have been ill or not, 
 you have only to ask Mi-s. Ramm. Dr. Geneste rode all 
 the way and back to their camp one night to fetch her. It 
 is his care which lias probably saved me from a bad time. 
 You will remember that when he came over I was alone, 
 except for the Chinamen and Claribel and 'Gusta. Not 
 even Mr. Shand was here. That was why he stayed. As 
 to — the other part, I have nothing to say. I think you 
 must have exaggerated Mr. Cusack's chaff, which could 
 not have been meant as j^ou put it. I believe Dr. Geneste 
 means to go back to Darra to-morrow. Please, Keith, for 
 your own sake as well as mine, do not be rude to him, for 
 he has done us both a great kindness, and I am sure you 
 would be sorry afterward if you offended him." 
 
 Slie walked past Tregaskiss into her own room, without 
 waiting for him to reply. Then she became terrified lest 
 he should follow her, but he did not come. Something 
 down below attracted his attention, and he yelled out a 
 reprimand to one of the black boys, and presently went 
 noisily down the stairs. By and by she heard him in the 
 back veranda asking Geneste quite good humoredly to 
 come in and have a nip before dinner. Ilis anger had 
 been only bluster, and she need not have alarmed herself ; 
 Tregaskiss, like most bullies, was a moral coward. 
 
 Ninsr came in fresh from her bath to have her white 
 
194 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 frock and red sash fastened. She exhibited a new doll 
 which daddy had brought lier from Ilgandah, and which, 
 she told lier mother, Miss Lawford had dressed for her. 
 The last piece of information gave Clare a clue as to 
 Tregaskiss' delayed return, and she understood that he 
 had been finding an excuse for himself by blaming her. 
 She felt too contemptuous to be greatly annoyed. From 
 Tregaskiss' own report to her of earlier conversations with 
 the little governess, she knew that Miss Lawford permitted 
 a freedom of flirtation wliich appealed to her husband's 
 temperament and desire for variety. It had never occurred 
 to her that Miss Lawford's influence could prove danger, 
 ous to her own. Slie dressed for dinner, holding back the 
 hysterical sobs which rose in her throat, and mentally flying 
 from the vague terror with which the situation impressed 
 her. And yet, all through her dressing, she was pervaded 
 by the thought that Geneste's eyes would meet hers for 
 the first time since he had told that he loved her, and that 
 for the first time, too, in her life, she must plaj' a part 
 abhorrent to her nature, that of a wife with a secret love 
 for another man to conceal. 
 
 Geneste pitied her intensely when she appeared and took 
 her place before the tea tray. He saw how pale she was, 
 and with what an effort she kept her composure. He 
 avoided looking at her or addressing her too directly, but 
 vigorously sustained conversation with Tregaskiss and 
 Shand, asking about the late sale to the butchers, partic- 
 ulars of the strike, the doings of the Pastoralist Commit- 
 tee, and the arrival of the " special " from Port Victoria. 
 There appeared to be a good deal of talk and preparation 
 on both sides, with little to show for it in the way of cause 
 or result. The strikers were reported to have collected in 
 a body for the destruction of various stations, and for 
 summary vengeance upon the free labourers ; but as yet, 
 beyond trying to fire two woolsheds, and the slaughter of 
 Tregaskiss' horses, they had done no definite mischief. 
 
" YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 195 
 
 " They are afraid to tackle Brinda Plains just yet," said 
 Tregaskiss, " for old Cusack is in such a blue funk that he 
 has a force of police round the place, and makes all his 
 men sleep on the veranda, ready with their fire-arras. You 
 should hear Miss Lawford's account ; it's rich, I can 
 tell you ! " 
 
 " Miss Lawford is staying with the Ococks, I hear," said 
 Geneste. 
 
 " Oh, I see you know all the Brinda Plains gossip," cried 
 Tregaskiss boisterously. " The fair Helen, I suppose, 
 keeps you well posted. By Jove ! you know, she'll be 
 thinking herself neglected for Mrs. Tregaskiss, if you 
 don't take care." 
 
 Clare's face was stony, and Geneste took no notice of 
 the insinuation, but pointedly turned the conversation to 
 general topics. Tregaskiss' congeniality had a touch of 
 tlie malignant. Geneste also noticed the change in his 
 manner, and attributed it to the deepening effect of Miss 
 Lawford's society. Tregaskiss was one of those men who 
 cannot, under any circumstances, resist talking of the women 
 they admire. He repeated more than one of Miss Law- 
 ford's sallies, proclaiming that she was splendid companj', 
 and that the land commissioner was tremendously gone 
 upon her, but hadn't the ghost of a chance, for Hett^v 
 Lawford liked a man who was a man and had some "go" 
 in him ; she wasn't one of your die-away women, always 
 giving themselves airs of superiorit3^ 
 
 There was a certain aggressiveness in his tone, and as he 
 spoke, he glanced at his wife. It was the "two can play 
 at that game " air of a school boy, who hits first to prevent 
 himself from being taken vengeance upon. Tregaskiss' 
 methods were all of the elementary kind. 
 
 They sat out in the veranda afterward, but Clare gave 
 herself no opportunity for a word apart with Geneste, nor 
 did he appear to seek any. The baby cried, and she went 
 to her room and sat with it on her lap conscientiously hush- 
 
196 MRS. TBEGASKISS. 
 
 ing it, and guarding it from the mosquitoes, till it slept 
 again ; all the time with bitterness and revolt in her heart, 
 and yet a remorseful tenderness for the small helpless thing 
 which was bone of her bone, and which she could not cast 
 from her, living symbol though it was of a bondage she 
 loathed. Wlien she went back, the night had grown still 
 and muggy, the clouds had blackened, and there were 
 flashes of sheet lightning gleaming at intervals in the 
 west. 
 
 " It means nothing," Geneste was saying, as she ap- 
 proached. " These storms which don't come ofE are a bad 
 sign." 
 
 " We shall have to begin watering the cattle if it goes 
 on," said Tregaskiss, "and that means extra hands and no 
 end of expense and worry." 
 
 " They're dying fast out Brigalow camp way," put in 
 Shand. " Another drought like last year will ruin the dis- 
 trict." 
 
 "And the squatters too," growled Tregaskiss. 
 
 "Well, anyhow," said Geneste, "you are luckier than I 
 am, Tregaskiss, for you have got one bore at least, to fall 
 back upon." 
 
 How could he talk so quietly, when for her the very air 
 was full of stress and thrill, and when her heart was break- 
 ing under the strain of the position ? And yet she admired 
 him for his calmness, which must come, she assured herself, 
 from the very loftiness of his motive. He meant only her 
 good, and desired nothing but the right to help her as 
 unselfishly as he could. Surely she herself must be a crea- 
 ture of evil thoughts and wishes to be so weighed down 
 and tossed and tormented. 
 
 "Mrs. Tregaskiss," Geneste said, turning to her, "you 
 should remember you are only an invalid yet, and ought 
 not to sit up late. I shall have to say good-bye when I bid 
 you good-night, for I am starting home very early to-mor- 
 row morning." 
 
" YOU OUGHT NOT TO HAVE SAID THAT." 19V 
 
 " Good-niglit, then, and good-bye," slie said, lioldiug out 
 her liand. 
 
 He took it, and all that night, his touch seemed to linger 
 with her like a living thing. 
 
 " Good-niglit ! I am very much obliged to you for hav- 
 ing had me for so long, and I shall leave feeling a good 
 deal more comfortable about you than when I came. I 
 think you are pretty safe now from bad days." 
 
 Clare answered with a commonplace. He had been very 
 kind. She hoped that he would not find station work had 
 been neglected during his absence. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I've got a very good stockman. Tregaskiss, 
 you won't forget that j'ou are to bring Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 over the first opportunity to see my diggings. It would be 
 capital if we could manage the expedition to Eungella at 
 the same time." 
 
 Tregaskiss agreed. He didn't see why they shouldn't do 
 it before the worst heat had come on, and they might get 
 Helen Cusaok and MissLawford to join, as well as Gillespie 
 and Blanchard and the lot of them. 
 
 " Can I get you a lamp or candle or anything? " Geneste 
 asked formally, as Clare was turning to her part of the 
 house. 
 
 " No, thank you, I have a lamp in my room," she an- 
 swered, and so they parted. 
 
 The night was ghastly, the storm ending in wind and 
 dust, with low grumblings of distant thunder and faint 
 flashes of lightning. Clare lay awake, every nerve strained, 
 waiting for her husband's entrance. When he came she pre- 
 tended to be asleep, but she heard him heavily fumbling with 
 his clothes and boots as he undressed, and stealthily crept 
 to the very edge of the bed, holding herself quite still till 
 he should be asleep, so that she might get up and go out to 
 the hammock in the veranda. She did this many nights. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FAIR INBS. 
 
 " What am I to do about Gladys Hilditch ? " Clare said 
 one day to her husband. 
 
 " Let her find her own way up from Port Victoria," he 
 answered crossly. " She is rich and can afford to pay for 
 a buggy and pair of horses." 
 
 " Keith, wouldn't it be possible for you to go and fetch 
 her?" 
 
 " Not if I know it. I've got neither time nor animals. 
 You seem to forget that we are ordered to keep ten horses 
 in the paddock in case of the specials wanting them, and 
 that every squatter must have a horse and man in readiness 
 to give an alarm if necessary. Mrs. Hilditch can wait till 
 the strike is over." 
 
 " I can't believe in the strike, or get up any proper sense 
 of our danger," said Clare, with a laugh that annoyed Tre- 
 gaskiss. " The unionists are only trying to frighten the 
 squatters. Tliey say Mr. Cusack is nearly over his shearing 
 and is getting his wool loaded, and nothing has happened." 
 
 " You wait and see," oracularly replied Tregaskiss. 
 " Other people in the district don't take things so easily." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, here's Mr. Chance who hasn't taken 
 the trouble to get in his ten horses or to ask the specials to 
 look after his station," said Clare, turning to Cyrus Chance, 
 who, during one of his periodic stoppages on his way to 
 Port Victoria, was present in the veranda while the col- 
 loquy took place. 
 
 " I'm no one to get scared at a screech, Mistress Tregas- 
 kiss," said old Cj'rus, smiling griml}'. " The strikers know 
 
 198 
 
FAIR INE8. 199 
 
 that, and they know too that if they burned down my wool- 
 shed I'd buy up every lawyer in Leichardt's Land to have 
 the law on them, just as I mean to do to get off my black 
 boy Andy." 
 
 "Andy!" repeated Tregaskiss. " Murdei'ed one of his 
 tribe, didn't he ? I hear the police caught him up Brinda 
 way and chained him to a tree in the paddock, but he got 
 loose, and they said some white man must have undone his 
 hand-cuffs." 
 
 "Ay," returned Chance, "it's true there was a white 
 man camped close by Brinda Creek that night, and he did 
 undo Andy's handcuffs. I'm a hard man. Mistress Tregas- 
 kiss, and a gripper on the whites as they say up here, but 
 I've never held with hunting down the blacks and making 
 laws for them when they've got their own tribe laws to do 
 the work. Andy killed the other black because he had 
 taken away his gin, and that's his affair, say I, and not 
 Queen Victoria's." 
 
 Tregaskiss laughed. " You've got a nipping way of 
 putting things. Chance." 
 
 "It's likely that I have, Mr. Tregaskiss," — Chance 
 studiously made use of the prefix, — " but I've studied 
 the subject of colonisation, and I've no opeenion of 
 Britishers when they get the upper hand of savages. 
 As far as that goes, I may be a gripper right enough, 
 and my heirs will be the better for it, but I never wronged 
 white nor black, and I've made up my mind to get Andy 
 off if I pay for it with all my Leura property. I don't like 
 folks that go after other men's wives, no more than I like 
 folks, having wives of their own, who go sweethearting 
 other young women — of a sort." 
 
 The contempt of Mr. Chance's " of a sort " pointed 
 the allusion. Tregaskiss reddened angrily. 
 
 "It's pretty safe on the Leura, where you haven't got to 
 put your theories into practise, for a fellow to maintain, 
 like that speechifying chap at Ilgandah, that the squatters 
 
200 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 liave taken the blacks' country, and are bound to kill a 
 bullock for them every now and then. I'd like to see you 
 killing the bullock, Chance. And that reminds me — we're 
 very much obliged to you for your present to my wife the 
 other day : six bottles of porter. By Jove, that was a mag- 
 nificent shell out for you, Chance — quite the millionaire 
 touch, eh ! But I think I can afford to buy her her 
 drinks." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Tregaskiss," said Chance, his 
 small whitey-brown face turning pale with suppressed 
 anger. " I'm glad to know you are in such a flourishing 
 condition. There are reports going — perliaps j'ou may 
 liave heard them — about the bank being ready to come 
 down on Wonibo, and I'm pleased for your wife's sake to 
 know that there is no truth in them. I think I'll say good- 
 day now, Mistress Tregaskiss. Good-day to you, Mr. 
 Tregaskiss ! I'll not trespass upon your hospitality by sit- 
 ting in your veranda any longer." 
 
 " Don't hurry," said Tregaskiss sulkily. " I'm off, and 
 since you won't be neighbourly, and take anything " 
 
 " No, I thank you, Mr. Tregaskiss. I've got my 
 damper and junk at the camp, but if you've got a bit of 
 green hide rope to spare, I'll be pleased to buy it from you 
 for a halter for one of my pack-horses — at the market price, 
 Mr. Tregaskiss, — at the market price." 
 
 " Your price is always a goodish bit below the market one, 
 Chance, and I could afford to let you have that for noth- 
 ing. But since you're so beastly proud, you can pay what 
 you please. You'll find me out by the meat store when 
 you are ready." And he went off. 
 
 "Your husband seems to be more prosperous than folks 
 on the Leura give him credit for. Mistress Tregaskiss," 
 said the old man, eyeing her keenly. " It surprises me, for 
 money isn't like a boomerang ; it doesn't come back after 
 you've thrown it away, and times are bad." 
 
 Clare looked uncomfortable. 
 
FAIR ESTES. £01 
 
 " Please don't mind what Keith says, Mr. Chance, or 
 take him too literally." 
 
 " No, I don't ; no, I don't do that ! " said Chance, with a 
 chuckle. "If I had, he'd have done me in the eye before 
 now. He don't like me, nor I him." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, Mr. Chance, you and I will always 
 be good friends." 
 
 " Yes, that we'll be. And mind you what I said to you 
 last time I was here. Nurse your babies, and turn 'em 
 into blessings, and remember this : I've formed my own 
 opeenions, and I keep my mouth shut on 'em. You needn't 
 be afraid to tell me if you're in a bit of a tight place — I 
 wasn't thinking in the way of money," he added cautiously. 
 
 " No, I know j'ou weren't ; and I shall remember. I'm 
 rather in trouble now. My friend, Gladys Hilditch, is at 
 Port Victoria, and you heard what Keith said ; and I am 
 wondering if you could help me any way to get her up 
 here. Perhaps Mr. Cusack, or Mr. Carmody, or somebody 
 from one of the stations may be down, and would bring her 
 part of the way, anyhow. I can't tell you how obliged I'd 
 be if you would see and ask them for me." 
 
 " Gladys Hilditch, Gladys Hilditch," repeated Chance 
 slowly, with his queer intonation dwelling on her name. 
 " That's the one I called Fair Ines, isn't it ? She that comes 
 from the West, 
 
 " ' To dazzle when the sun's gone down,' 
 
 eh ? I know, I know. Well, I'm not much in the way of 
 woraenkind, Mistress Tregaskiss. I hate the lot of them, 
 and I never knew a lady, so to speak, till I came across you. 
 I've sometimes thought I may have missed something, but 
 it's too late now. Fair Ines ! I'll see if I can do anything 
 for ye. Mistress Tregaskiss, but I won't promise to go nigh 
 the creature myself." 
 
 He departed with this doubtful promise, upon which, 
 nevertheless, Clare placed some reliance. Sure enough, a 
 
202 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 little while later two riders might have been seen, one after- 
 noon at sunset, approaching through the gidia clearing^ 
 followed by a pair of black boys driving several pack- 
 horses ; and one of the riders was a lady quite unlike any 
 of the Leura ladies, and the other Cj'rus Chance. 
 
 Lona, the black gin, who was scout to the establish- 
 ment, ran up to tell the news. " Mine think it that cobbon 
 budgery White Mary," was Lona's announcement. " Alto- 
 gether lady, that fellow. No jump-up fellow, like it some 
 Leura lady ! " which showed that Lona was a person of 
 discrimination. 
 
 It was Gladys Hilditch, Gladys looking like a queen in 
 exile, or a Burne Jones picture of a medieval lady on horse- 
 back, minus the feathers, but for tlie absence of those 
 Mrs. Hilditch amply atoned by a cunning arrangement of 
 gauze upon her picturesque broad-brimmed hat. Glad3's 
 was nothing, if not picturesque ; and she had always had the 
 knack of wearing original, becoming, and suitable gar- 
 ments, sufficiently different from those of anybody else to 
 give her distinction and mark her individuality. Any 
 other English woman would have appeared in ordinary 
 English riding dress, but Glady's gray habit, her coat, 
 which was a suggestion from the Louis Quinze period, her 
 fine batiste shirt, frilled with Point de Paris, and curved, 
 cavalier hat were a sort of incarnation of all South Kensing- 
 ton and Tite Street culture dropped suddenly into Levira 
 barbarism. She was a very beautiful woman — more beau- 
 tiful now than in the old days, for during her married life, 
 when she had had money in plenty and little else to dis- 
 tract hei', in the early part of it at any rate, she had 
 brought the art of dressing herself to perfection. Her face 
 was Greek in type, only less statuesque, and with the curv- 
 ing back lips and slightly hollowed eye orbits, which be- 
 long rather to the days of chivalry. She did not look in 
 the least dusty or dishevelled, though she had ridden all 
 day over the scorching plains ; her reddish yellow fringe 
 
FAIR INES. 203 
 
 was parted upon her forehead, and crinkled as evenly as 
 though it had just been arranged by a skilful hairdresser. 
 Her delicate skin, smooth as the leaf of a flower, was not 
 burned or I'oughened ; her eyes, deep violet, limpid, and 
 large, were undimmed by fatigue ; her thin gray habit was 
 immaculate, her batiste unruffled, and the little et ceterasoi 
 lier toilette — her double eye-glass with its long handle of 
 dull silver, her gray gauntlet gloves, her jewelled riding- 
 whip, the silver clasp of her coat, all truly seemed in keep- 
 ing with the suggestion of a Fair Ines come to dazzle a more 
 primitive race. 
 
 Seeing Clare hurrying from the upper veranda, she 
 jumped down from her horse, not waiting for anyone to 
 help her, pulled off her gauntlets, rubbed her rose-petal 
 cheeks lightly with a filmy handkerchief that exhaled a 
 suggestion only of some rare and particularly refined per- 
 fume, and was in the arras of her friend. 
 
 « Dearest Clare ! " 
 
 "Oh, Gladys!" 
 
 " How thin you've grown, Clare ! " 
 
 "And you — how young you look, Gladys ! and not in 
 the least ill I " 
 
 " Oh, I am quite well now, and, dear, remember, I was 
 two years younger than you. I'm only just thirty, and 
 I've kept myself in cotton-wool." 
 
 " And you are thinking I have not done so. Am I so 
 terribly changed, Gladys ? " 
 
 Gladys stood away and took a long gaze before she 
 replied : " Yes — no. Yes, of course, you Sphinx ! You've 
 
 got a look more — more Never mind, I'll explain when 
 
 I've made it out. You are handsomer than you used to be, 
 if that's what you want to know, though you are so thin ; but 
 it suits you. You look like — like Sarah Bernhardt — subtle 
 and suggestive. Subtlety is what we are all trying for in 
 these days," Gladys went on, in her soft sweet monologue, 
 " so you should be satisfied. As for me, I'm sick of it. 
 U 
 
204 MRS. THEGASKISS. 
 
 I've been done to death with modernity and all the rest. 
 I've rushed out here to be rid of it, but if you are going to 
 come Ibsen's heroines over me, I give up. I was feeling 
 quite enchanted with it all — the gum trees, and the niggers, 
 and this sort of thing." She gave a comprehensive wave 
 of her hand. " It's a mixture of Miss Wilkins' New Eng- 
 land stories and the ' Roman d'un Spahi.' I've been asking 
 that delightful specimen of an Australian man how it's 
 managed. He's a bit of Miss Wilkins himself — only 
 better." 
 
 She indicated with a little nod of her head Cyrus Chance^ 
 who was standing by the pack-horse he had been leading, 
 watching her with an odd smile on his grotesque face. 
 He looked more odd and fusty than ever, and his slight 
 deformity more noticeable. 
 
 " Mr. Chance," said Mrs. Tregaskiss, waking to the fact 
 of his existence, "how am I to thank you? This is a 
 great surprise. I never dreamed that you would bring my 
 friend to me yourself." 
 
 " Oh, he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't insisted," 
 exclaimed Gladys, " and he wouldn't have consented then, 
 but that I threatened to unpack my Rosalind costume — I 
 played heroine in one of the pastoral plays, dear, modelled 
 after Ada Rehan — and ride after him with the cowboys, or 
 stockmen, or whatever you call them. He said that wouldn't 
 be becoming in an English lady. I told him that Mary 
 Stuart had done it before me, and that she was a good prece- 
 dent. But he doesn't approve of Mary Stuart ; she wasn't 
 domestic enough to please him. He declares she murdered 
 Bothwell : we had quite an argument over the Casket 
 Letters. To think of his having gone into the Gasket 
 Letters business ! Then I quoted the Empress Theodora ; 
 but he was horrified at my having read Gibbon. Fancy 
 his knowing Gibbon ! He says he educated himself on 
 Bohn's Library and cheap literature. He is a perfect 
 type. And he hates women. I never in all mj' life came 
 
FAIR INES. 205 
 
 across a misogynist before. I am determined that he shall 
 not hate me, for I like him immensely ; and so I am going 
 to reform him, and I shall let him try and reform me. I 
 settled it for him on the way along. He wouldn't talk to 
 me at first — wanted me to ride behind, between him and 
 the black boys ; but I said that if he was going to be dis- 
 agreeable I should get down and unpack my Rosalind 
 dress and put it on, and that finished the argument." 
 
 Gladys poured forth her rapid monologue in the sweetest, 
 softest of voices, with a touch of disdainful languor in her 
 tone which relieved her sprightly utterances of any trace 
 of flippancy. Perhaps one of her charms lay in the con- 
 trast between her modern and somewhat redundant talk 
 and the angelic dignity of her face and movements. 
 Nothing about her went fast except her tongue, and 
 nevertheless Clare knew she would have long fits of taci- 
 turnity when, as she declared, her mind was kneading an 
 idea. 
 
 " Oh, Gladys ! " said Mrs. Tregaskiss ; " you have not 
 changed a bit." 
 
 "Dear, yes, I have. Just wait till you get to know. 
 I've been through the mill, and I've come out of it a good 
 deal scratched, but so hardened and brightened up that 
 you don't see the scratches for a while. I dare say I seem 
 frivolous at present. But this is all so enchantingly new 
 and crude. I've enjoyed myself ever since I left conven- 
 tionality, in the shape of my maid Parker, behind at Cedar 
 Hill, sitting on my dress-basket with cotton-wool in her 
 ears to keep out the swearing of the bullock-drivers. If 
 you had seen her face when they brought in the saddle- 
 bags and I told her to pack my clothes in them ! Parker 
 is going to be a trial, I am certain. I told her to find 
 her own way to Port Victoria, and back to England, if she 
 liked, for she is far too grand for her surroundings. Mother 
 and Cassandra would have had a fit at Cedar Hill. The 
 mosquito curtains and the wall-papers would have finished 
 
206 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 them. They never get beyond the sesthetics, and have no 
 notion of dramatic contrast. Now, I was always dramatic — 
 even when I married Mr. Hilditch." 
 
 Cassandra was the eldest Miss Warraker, who told 
 fortunes bj'' the stars, and was generally romantic and 
 superior. 
 
 They were in the drawing-room now, and Clare was 
 taking off Gladys' hat and veil and giving her tea, while 
 Ning stared with big solemn eyes at the visitor. 
 
 " You are a queer little angel," said Gladys, catching the 
 child up and kissing her ; "I wish I had one like you." 
 
 She gave a sigh, and her astonishingly young face 
 seemed for a moment to grow as old as its years. Clare 
 had heard tliat the one child of Gladys' marriage had died 
 as a baby, and pressed her friend's hand sympathetically, 
 saying nothing. Mr. Chance's shuffling footstep sounded 
 on the veranda, and presently he came in, carrying two 
 great bulging saddle-bags, with the French heel of one kid 
 shoe and the buckled toe of another peeping out at the 
 aperture beneath the flap. He deposited these on the floor, 
 and stood looking at Mrs. Hilditch with a sort of saturnine 
 tenderness. Fair Ines had come and conquered, and old 
 Cyrus had found the embodiment of his romantic dreams 
 in this dainty creature from a world that he knew not. 
 
 " I'm thinking," he said, " that I'd better be getting down 
 to my camp." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Cliance ! " cried Clare, " don't go yet. Have 
 some of ray tea, and besides I haven't half tlianked you 
 for bringing my friend. I don't think I'll try ; you can 
 see what a pleasure you have given me." 
 
 The muscles about old Cyrus' mouth relaxed into an 
 expression of benevolence. "Didn't I tell you," he an- 
 swered, "that ye might apply to me in a difiiculty, — short 
 of a money one, — and I'd see what I could do for you ? " 
 
 " I don't think much of you if you wouldn't help in a 
 money difficulty," said Gladys. 
 
FAIR INES. 207 
 
 " It's an ill business to beg, to borrow, or to lend," said 
 old Cyrus sententiously. 
 
 "Oh, he's a miser, isn't he?" said Gladys boldly. 
 " That's what they told me at Cedar Hill. And he's 
 enormously rich, and oould buy us all out and have a decent 
 competence over. Isn't that so ? " 
 
 "To buy MS out wouldn't be saying a great deal," 
 answered Mrs. Tregaskiss. " To buy you out would be 
 a different matter." 
 
 " My husband left me five thousand a year," said Mrs. 
 H'ilditch gravely ; " and if I marry again I lose every 
 penny of it." 
 
 " Tlien take the advice of old man Chance, leddy, and 
 keep your liberty and your ailler. True enough, I'm a 
 miser and a woman-hater, but I'd have been worse than 
 that if I had given a woman the right to put her hand in 
 my pocket, for I'd have been a beggar. No, I thank you, 
 Mistress Tregaskiss," — refusing Clare's proffered cup of tea, 
 — " I'll be having it at the camp presently. Is the master 
 on the place ? " 
 
 " He went out on the run with Mr. Shand," she answered, 
 " but he ought to be coming back now. I think I hear 
 the dogs barking." 
 
 " Then I'll be saying good-night," said Cyrus. 
 
 Gladys turned a puzzled look upon him. 
 
 " Mr. Tregaskiss isn't a lomnan /" she cried. " Why do 
 you want to run away from him ? What does he mean by 
 his camp, Clare ? Does he prefer camping to sleeping in a 
 house, or am I turning him out here ? " 
 
 " Old man Cyrus Chance prefers to sleep and eat at his 
 own expense," put in Chance. " I'm not saying that I 
 don't take a meal off a neighbour's corncobs, or a pumpkin 
 that would rot for want of gathering, but that's not a 
 question of hospitality. Good-night, leddy ! The rest of 
 your pack is in the back veranda, and I hope you'll not 
 find any of 3'our gewgaws missing." 
 
208 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Listen ! " said Gladys. " When he knows that half of 
 them are completely ruined, and that Parker would die at 
 the sight of my crumpled tea-gowns. Two pairs of my 
 best silk stockings are ornamenting the gum trees, and tlie 
 Valenciennes frills of my petticoats torn to shreds and 
 strewing the plain. The pack-horse put down his head 
 and kicked up his legs and then bolted. Away went the 
 pack, and the black boys gathered up the fragments." 
 
 "Silk gowns and fripperies and fallals, the like of 
 which was never seen on the Leura ! " said Mr. Cliance. 
 " You are a deal too fine for these parts, leddy. But" I 
 would not have it altered. You're good to look at, and not 
 to be confounded with the ordinary ; and your finery is just 
 a part of yourself." 
 
 " Hear him ! I'm converting him already. Mr. Chance, 
 have you forgotten that I'm a woman ? " 
 
 " Eh, but you and mistress there are a different brand 
 from these other creatures of women, and not to be drafted 
 into the same yard. I don't count ye as women." 
 
 " That's the prettiest compliment I've ever had paid me," 
 returned Gladys, and she held out her hand to him with 
 such royal grace that old Cyrus was obliged to take it and 
 perform a very awkward bow in doing so over her out- 
 stretched fingers. 
 
 " Where's your camp going to be, Mr. Chance ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Agen the water-hole ; close by the blacks'. They're 
 good company for me. I've got Andy off, mistress ; it 
 cost me a' pretty penny." 
 
 " Well, I shall come down after dinner — or tea,— I observe 
 that all meals are tea here, — and we'll have another game 
 of knucklebones," said Gladys. 
 
 " Knucklebones ! " repeated Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 
 " It's his favourite dissipation ; haven't you discovered 
 that? He has got the loveliest set. I've always longed to 
 play knucklebones ; and last night when we were camping 
 
FAIR IKES. S09 
 
 out, he taught me. I had some trouble to persuade him 
 that it was not derogatory to my dignity as a woman." 
 
 " A woman 1 " grunted Cyrus, with an accent of contempt. 
 " Haven't I said I did not count you ? They don't know 
 your brand up here." 
 
 " A goddess, then — without the pedestal. I have no 
 objection, Mr. Chance, to being a goddess since you decline 
 to play knucklebones with ordinary mortals." 
 
 " Well, anyhow," said Cyrus, " it's an innocent pastime, 
 and takes skill ; and it's cheap." 
 
 "And classic," added Gladys. "The Pompeians played 
 knucklebones, Mr. Chance. I've seen the sets — beauties, 
 nearly eighteen liundred years old — in the museum at 
 Naples. You may disapprove of Mary Stuart and the 
 Empress Theodora, and Gibbon, and the rest of your cheap 
 literature people, but you can't trample on the Pompeians 
 — poor petrified corpses ; they're too pathetic." 
 
 The sounds of arrival became pronounced. Clare Tre- 
 gaskias' still smile might have been carved in marble. 
 
 " Tliis is Keith," she said. 
 
 " Keith !" repeated Gladys. " Oh, I forgot ! Your hus- 
 band's name. I like it. I'm longing to see him. It wasn't 
 kind of you, Clare, to meet, marry, and go off with him 
 that year I was in Switzerland. I've often pictured to my- 
 self the kind of man for whom you gave up all the joys of 
 civilisation : tall and stately, brave, simple, tender — intel- 
 lectual of course ; scorning the falsehoods and insincerity 
 of society that you used to hold forth against ; a sort of 
 nature's king ; a strong man, carving his course, like a 
 river, and making everybody in this wild, queer country, 
 white and black, respect and admire him. Yes, I knew 
 what he would fee like. And now I see that I was quite 
 right." 
 
 At her last words, old Cyrus, who had edged toward the 
 front veranda, realising that an exit by the back would 
 bring him face to face with Tregaskiss, paused and stood 
 
210 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 still, an expression of grim astonislimeut on his features. 
 Gladys was peering out at the French window, looking 
 upon the yard and was taking stock of the newcomer. 
 Chance and Clare both moved near her, and glanced over 
 her shoulders at the figure of a tall man standing by his 
 horse and unstrapping his valise. Chance gave a queer 
 little ejaculation, and Claire's lips tightened, but she said 
 nothing and turned away. It was Geneste. In a moment 
 he was at the door, confronting Gladys. She held out her 
 hand, her beautiful face beaming, and in her manner a mix- 
 ture of the sweetest dignity and friendliness. 
 
 "I don't need any introduction to Claire's husband. I 
 can quite understand her not regretting the English life. 
 I hope you will welcome her old friend for her sake." 
 
 " Gladys," Clare interposed, " I ought to have told you. 
 This is not my husband; it is our neighbour. Dr. Geneste." 
 She went forward with outstretched hand. " How do you 
 do ? We were expecting Keith. Let me introduce you 
 to Mrs. Hilditch." 
 
 Geneste made his greetings becomingly, and Gladys 
 laughed at her mistake. But there was an awed, almost 
 terrified, look in her eyes. Clare's composure had been 
 admirable, but Gladys' perceptions were keen. 
 
 When Tregaskiss arrived half an hour later, Mrs. Hil- 
 ditch was in her room unpacking the saddle-bags and other- 
 wise preparing herself for dinner. Clare was with her, and 
 their first intimation of the master's coming was not alto- 
 gether an agreeable one. Tregaskiss was in an ill-liumour ; 
 he had had a longer ride than either Mr. Shand or his wife 
 guessed, and not after stock. lie had seen on the way 
 home his cattle dying, bogged in the fast emptying water- 
 holes ; he had a stormy encounter with the drover of some 
 travelling stock, and he had discovered that a good deal of 
 grass had been destroyed by a bush fire. Tommy George, 
 who came out to take his horse, was suspected of being the 
 cause of this last disaster, through having carelessly thrown 
 
FAIR INES. 311 
 
 away a burning match when lighting his pipe on the run. 
 Tregaskiss attacked him, swore at him freely, ordered him 
 to hand over his pipe, which he broke into fragments and 
 threw at him, and gave Shand instructions that not another 
 fig of tobacco was to be served to the black boj's for a 
 month to come. He fumed on in loud, wrathful accents. 
 His horse had a sore back, and Shand came in for a share 
 of blame for not having seen to the stuffing of the saddle. 
 One of the stockmen was waiting for rations. " Oh, con- 
 found you ! " said Tregaskiss, " I'm dog tired, and I'm not 
 going to give out rations at this hour. You can stop till 
 Mr. Shand has turned out the horses. Go after him to the 
 yard and tell him. Or, here, Mrs. Tregaskiss will give them 
 out. Clare ! 'Gusta, go and ask your mistress to come 
 out to the store." 
 
 Clare did not wait for the summons. She turned from 
 her occupation of hanging up some of Gladys' dresses in 
 the cretonne curtained wardrobe. 
 
 " I will come back presently, Gladys," she said. 
 
 " Yes. Stay, oh, Clare ! was that — ilr. Tregaskiss ?" 
 
 " That was my husband," said Mrs. Tregaskiss stonily. 
 " You will find him perhaps a little different from what 
 you expected — and from what he used to be — if Cassandra, 
 who met him in England ever described him to j'ou, but 
 you must remember we lead a rough life, and he has been 
 riding after cattle all day ; and — and times are bad, and it 
 is not surprising that he should be tired and a little irrita- 
 ble. Our cattle are dying for want of grass and water, and 
 when you have been here a little while you will know wliat 
 ruin a bush fire may cause." 
 
 Gladys said nothing. "When Clare had gone she s.at 
 down on the edge of the bed and stared round her — at the 
 little veranda room with its primitive shutters, its walls 
 papered with pictures from the Illustrated and Graphic ; 
 its home-made furniture and sunken earthen floor covered 
 with rugs and matting ; the rough washstand and dressing- 
 
£12 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 table on whicli Glad_y8' silver-backed brushes and array of 
 toilet implements looked so incongruous ; the canvas ceil- 
 ing and the velvety patch of mosquitoes in one corner wait- 
 ing for darkness to leave their shelter. Gladys shuddered. 
 
 "It wouldn't matter a bit if it weren't for Ai?n," she 
 murmured. " Oh, ray poor Clare ; my poor, dear, dear 
 plare ! Oh, what made you do it ? And you love the 
 other man ! Oh, is no one happy, no one in the whole 
 world ? Must one always love the wrong man ? " 
 
 When Clare came back, which was not for a long time, 
 Mrs. Hilditch was dressed, her beautiful hair rippling over 
 her low forehead, and coiled behind, with a medieval- 
 looking band of amethysts, set in antique silver, binding 
 her head, and a like belt girding her loose muslin and 
 Valenciennes lace robe. There was not much sign of 
 widowhood about her, and she seemed to think it necessary 
 to apologise for the fact. 
 
 "He has been dead fourteen months, dear, and I couldn't 
 ever wear a cap. Oh, Clare ! " she added, coming close to 
 her friend and laying a hand on Clare's arm while she 
 gazed at her with earnest eyes, "it is so terrible — so hid- 
 eous to be glad ! But I tried to do my duty at the last — 
 when he got ill. They said he couldn't have lived nearly 
 so long if it hadn't been for me." 
 
 "I know that. A man told me you were very good to 
 him." 
 
 Gladj's withdrew her arm and went back to the glass 
 and adjusted a loose lock of her hair before she answered. 
 Clare had been wondering how she should broach the news 
 of Blanchard's presence on the Leura. She now saw that 
 it was no news to Gladys, and that chance had nothing to 
 do with their proximity to each other. 
 
 "I know who that was," Gladys answered, with studied 
 quietness. "There's only one man on the Leura who could 
 know anything about me and my husband. It was 
 Ambrose Blanchard." 
 
FAIR INES. 213 
 
 " I did not know liis name was Ambrose," said Clare ; "it 
 was Mr. Blancbard who recognised your pliotograpb and 
 told me he liad known you. He said that be had admired 
 you for your goodness to — j'oiir husband." 
 
 "I am glad," said Gladj's, "that at any rate he did me 
 that justice. Come, Clare, I like this little room iminensel^^, 
 dear, it puts me in mind of my cabin on board the Nana 
 Sahib, only that it is a great deal larger and more comfort- 
 able. But I think the veranda would be a cooler piace to 
 sit in." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 clabe's vow. 
 
 Teegaskiss, when be found out who his unseen auditress 
 liad been, — Glady's informed bim of the fact with perfect 
 frankness, accepting his ill-temper as a matter of course, and 
 asking him various sympathetic questions as to the working 
 of the station, and tlie probable results of the fire, — did his 
 best to remove the impression his rough language might 
 have made. 
 
 "A fellow is bound to swear at these niggers and bul- 
 lock-drivers, Mrs. Hilditch," he remarked confidentially ; 
 "and I'm delighted to see that you're not horrified at our 
 bush ways. It took me a long time to break Clare in," — 
 he laughed his fatuous laugh, — "but now I've got her in 
 excellent order, though she is still a little inclined to give 
 herself airs — doesn't take the cheerful view of things that 
 you seem to do." Gladj's had been giving a sprightly 
 account of her experiences among the bullock-drivers at 
 Cedar Hill and her night's camping out. "I must say I 
 admire a woman of spirit. Rum old stick, Cyrus Chance, 
 isn't he ? You must have played up to him in a remarkable 
 way to get him to bring j'ou along — or he may have done 
 it out of affection to my wife. He's very fond of Clare — 
 makes her presents occasionally." 
 
 And Tregaskiss told the story of the six bottles of 
 porter, and Gladys began to understand Cyrus Chance's 
 objection to breaking bread in his house. She began to 
 understand, too, Clare's far-away smile. "That's the expla- 
 nation of her Sphinx look," she said to herself. " Oh, my 
 poor dear, dear Clare ! Could he ever have been handsome 
 
 211 
 
CLARE'S VOW. 215 
 
 and frank and attractive, as Cassandra described him ? 
 Perhaps in those days he hadn't taken to drinking whiskey, 
 and grown red and coarse ; and perhaps he was too much 
 in awe of Clare, when she was Miss Gardyne and went to 
 London parties, to swear before her. 
 
 Gladys had already gauged the situation, and Tregas- 
 kiss' character as well. She knew that a woman who had 
 five thousand a year — as long as she did not mamy again 
 — must command his respect. He would, as far as his 
 natural tendency to the superior domination of whiskey 
 permitted, abstain from rough and ready language in her 
 presence. Then her beauty and air of fashion awed him. 
 Tregaskiss admired her immensely, though, as he con- 
 fided to Shand and Geneste later, she was not altogether 
 his style — put him too much in mind of ragged painters 
 and the floppy, artistic set. Tregaskiss always talked of 
 London life as though he were intimately acquainted with 
 all its social intricacies. He had on his manner of boister- 
 ous good humour this evening, rapidly assumed for Gladys' 
 benefit, and chaffed Geneste about Helen Cusack, detailing 
 the rumour he had heard in Ilgandah of her engagement to 
 young Gillespie, and bantered his wife on her late need of 
 his professional services. 
 
 "She doesn't look, does she, Mrs. Hilditch, as if there had 
 been reason to have a doctor standing over her night and 
 day for more than a week? I told Clare, when I came 
 back that I hadn't seen her looking so young and handsome 
 since slie first arrived on the Leura." 
 
 " I tliink she is very handsome, certainly, Mr. Tregaskiss," 
 replied Gladys, with boldness ; " but if you think she is 
 looking well, I don't agree with you ; and I should say she 
 wanted a lot of nursing and taking care of." 
 
 Geneste could not help giving her an approving glance. 
 He had been a little afraid of the coming of Gladys Hil- 
 ditch ; now he felt sure of her sympathy. 
 
 Slie was a many-sided person, this young woman. In 
 
216 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 European society slie was all tliat tliere is of the luxurious 
 modern. Here on the Laura she had a reaction in favour of 
 barbarism, and declared that thei'e was nothing she enjoyed 
 so much as unadulterated nature, and that she was tired of 
 London banalities. She was intensely interested in bush 
 life ; wanted to know all about the strike — she had come 
 in at Cedar Hill for a demonstration against the free 
 labourers, as the imported shearers from the south were 
 called ; inquired as to the large sheep-owners of the dis- 
 trict ; and, without once mentioning Ambrose Blanchard's 
 name, contrived to get a good deal of information about 
 the Cusacks, their household, and dependents. 
 
 Her lively chatter covered the erdbaiTassment which was 
 now inseparable from any intercourse between Mrs. Tre- 
 gaskiss and Geneste, when it took place under the eye of 
 others. What an ignorant, provincial sort of woman she 
 was, after all, Clare reflected bitterly ; how untrained in 
 the ways of the world ! Gladys, she thought, would have 
 found in the situation only the piquancy of dramatic con- 
 trast. Every tone and gesture of this attractive lady 
 seemed to indicate a perfect capacity for dealing with a 
 shoal of contraband admirers. Blanchard's tone had sug- 
 gested that her methods of distraction had not been alto- 
 gether as admirable as East End visiting. 
 
 Dinner was over, they were all in the veranda, and ' 
 Tregaskiss was showing off Ning's accomplishments, and 
 making her go through her last ghiribal, which is the black 
 for a song and dance representing the sound and action of 
 some animal. Ning's ghiribal was of the wild musk duck, 
 and her little arms flapped like wings, and she puffed out 
 her cheeks as she moved and sang in imitation of the 
 duck's cry : 
 
 " Ya naiya naringa 
 Puanbu ni go I 
 Mingo ahikarai I 
 
 ■Whoogli 1 " 
 
CLARE'S VOW. 217 
 
 " Did you ever see such a pickaninny, Mis. Hilditcli ? " 
 lie cried, in boisterous deligbt. 
 
 Gladys was enchanted. Here was true local colour, and 
 nature unadulterated. At last she bad escaped from the 
 asphyxiating influence of civilisation. She, too, must learn 
 a ghiribal. Tregaskiss made the child repeat her perform- 
 ance. He was at bis best when playing with Ning, and 
 Gladys began to dislike her host a little less cordially. 
 
 Bj' and by C^tus Chance's camp-fire glimmered in the 
 distance beyond the cluster of blacks' gunyas, and Gladys 
 declared her intention of taking a moonlight stroll and 
 paying him a visit. She did not ask Tregaskiss if he would 
 escort her, an omission which made him sulky, and be 
 retaliated on his wife by desiring her to remain and help 
 him with bis office work: that dreary business of writing 
 down beneath the date all that bad been done on the 
 station that day : the number of cattle branded, — if there 
 were branding going on, — the camps mustered, the rations 
 given out. To-night Tregaskiss bad more serious matters 
 occupying him. The bank bad written bim a letter of 
 warning, and had issued a veiled threat of sending a repre- 
 sentative to report on the station. There were other pay- 
 ments to be made — the store account at Ilgandah, the 
 fencers, and other items into which Tregaskiss did not 
 enter in detail. It was a question of selling store cattle 
 in order to raise money for immediate expenses, and the 
 drought was threatening severely, and the market was bad. 
 Then he propounded a scheme which had occurred to him 
 during dinner. Could Clare " work her friend, Mrs. Hil- 
 ditch," as he phrased it ; get her to make a loan, or buy a 
 small share in Mount Wombo, and so furnish a supply of cash. 
 
 Clare recoiled. Impossible ! She felt that she would 
 almost rather starve. It would be easier to apply to 
 Cyrus Chance, hopeless as would be the result. Tregaskiss 
 upbraided her for lukewarmness as regarded his interests. 
 She cared for nothing as long as she had her ease, and 
 
218 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 could stay at home cooling herself in the veranda with the 
 children ; but she would feel differently when she no longer 
 had a roof over her head, and so on. 
 
 Clare gazed out into the night. The gaunt gum trees 
 and the ghostly gidias seemed to mock the very suggestion 
 of freedom. To be roofless and alone ! The very idea 
 was like letting in a rush of fresh wind. The passion of 
 futile longing that seized her seemed unbearable. She got 
 up and paced the room. Though the window was open, they 
 did not seem to have a breath of air ; the hum of the mos- 
 quitoes was maddening, and the flying ants circling toward 
 the lamp, dropping their wings on the table-cover, in- 
 creased the feeling of discomfort. Tregaskiss leaned back 
 in the office chair smoking, and occasionally expectorating 
 through the open window. He, too, got up, mixing him- 
 self a glass of spirits ; he always kept it in the safe, where 
 were the station ledgers and the strychnine for poisoning 
 native dogs. Clare thought of Geneste and Gladj's wan- 
 dering by the lagoon — wondered if he were telling Gladys 
 of her wretchedness. No, he was too loyal for that, he 
 would know that she could not bear to be pitied, even by 
 Gladys, just yet a while. She had exchanged no word 
 with Geneste, except that commonplace good-night, since 
 those in which he had told her of his love, and she had 
 bade him never speak of it again. Did he mean to take 
 her altogether literally ? He might have written to her. 
 There had been an opportunity at the last coming of 
 Jemmy Rodd. Perhaps he had been afraid that her hus- 
 band would open the letter. Had he in trutl> meant those 
 words — had he not, perhaps, repented them? Her heart 
 was crying out and hungering to hear them repeat, "I 
 love you ! " And he had never asked her if she loved him 
 back. Oh, if she could go to him, and put her head upon 
 his breast, and feel his ai-ms round her, and say to him in 
 his ear just once, as she had said to herself, "I love you 
 with all my soul." Tregaskiss' rasping voice roused her : 
 
CLARE'S VOVf. 219 
 
 " That mine has turned out no good, and the others 
 
 are just as likely as not to be rank sells. By G- d I I'm 
 
 jick of the whole concern. I feel that I want a jolly 
 good spree, with a pleasant companion, and to throw 
 worries to the devil for a bit, anyhow. What's the use of 
 slaving and sweating to have the bank down upon j'ou, and 
 
 life to begin all over again. If it wasn't for tlie children 
 
 I declare to Heaven that but for the Pickaninny, and 
 if I could manage to make a lucky hit over one of these 
 Wirra reefs, I'd cut the whole blessed business and never 
 come back again 1 Don't stand like a stock there, Clare," 
 he cried out ; " go out, if you want to, and find your fine 
 friend ! You're jealous, I suppose, lest she should be flirt- 
 ing with Geneste. Go on out ! You're no good to me ! If 
 I'd had a different sort of wife I shouldn't feel as I feel 
 to-night." 
 
 She was moving a\vaj% but at the last words came back 
 to him. 
 
 "How do you feel, Keith? Tell me what is really the 
 matter with you, and I'll do my best to help you. I don't 
 believe it's all money difficulties. You seem to me to 
 have utterlj' changed since you were away that week at 
 Ilgandah." 
 
 " That's true enough," he said moodily. " I found out 
 something then that I hadn't known before, and it has 
 upset me, that's all. But it has nothing to do with you." 
 
 " Then I won't ask any more," she answered proudly, 
 " and I'll go out and find Gladys." 
 
 "When she had gone Tregaskiss replenished his now emp- 
 tied glass, and drawing his blotting pad to him, began to 
 write in his big boyish hand : 
 
 " My Own Darling : 
 
 " I longed so for the sight of your dear little bright face, 
 that I i"ode all the way over to the surveyor's to-day, — forty 
 miles there and back, — and I couldn't have done it if I hadn't 
 
220 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 changed nags at tlie fencers. You can just imagine my 
 disappointment when I heard tliere that you had gone 
 away from the Ococks, and that it was no use my going, 
 on. And now I don't know how I can see you, for that 
 old dragon, Mrs. Cusack, doesn't approve of my paying 
 you too much attention. I'm feeling uncommonly bad 
 about it all, Hetty. Somehow, your caring for me, which I 
 never guessed till just lately, seems to have altered every- 
 thing and to have turned me from a steady-going, con- 
 tented chap, into a reckless, miserable devil, not minding 
 much what happens to him. It drives me mad to think of 
 how jolly we might have been if everything was right, and 
 then the thought of the Pickaninny, and all the rest of the 
 wretched business, sends me mad again the other waj'. 
 Though I hate the idea of losing you, I believe the right, 
 unselfish course for me would be either to go straight away 
 for a trip to England or somewhei-e — only I am too hard 
 up just now to think of that. And failing my clearing out, 
 it would be best for you to leave the Cusacks and find a 
 home in another place, and if you forget me, so much the 
 better for you. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, 
 and I'll try and work a trip to Brinda Downs, if it's possi- 
 ble. Has Cusack finished his shearing, and where is he 
 going to muster ? You might suggest to the old lady to 
 invite my wife's friend, a real " 
 
 Tregaskiss had got thus far when Shand came in to 
 report that part of the paddock fence was broken down, 
 and that the mob of horses kept in readiness for the 
 specials had taken to the bush. With an oath, Tregaskiss 
 got up, putting the half written letter between the leaves 
 of the station ledger in the cupboard, which he always 
 kept locked, the key of which he «ow turned and put in his 
 pocket. Then he followed the new chum out to see about 
 sending black boys after the missing animals. 
 
 Meanwhile Clare wandered forth past the garden fence 
 
CL4iRE:8 vow. 221 
 
 towai'd tbe kgooo.. In the distoDce slie could bear Ning's 
 shrill prattle, and rerajerabeued that Gladya had takea the 
 child when she and Gcneste started to find Cyrus Chanoe's 
 cajnpi When she had gone a little W9iy in, the same direo-. 
 tion, Mrs. Tregaskiss turned a^>d made for the opposite end 
 of the lagoon, where the gidiai scrub grew almost to the 
 water, and where there were no fires oif sign of habitation. 
 Tt) meet Geneste now in the company of Mrs. HihlitcU and 
 of ijer child was more than sh$ oo.ulld beav. Theu she 
 heard hei'-liusband's ^' Coo^ee," and shout for Tojjimy George 
 amd tie black hoys, to " murra make haste and go after 
 yarramaa that had bolted," She knew that he would b.e at 
 the camp presently, and would, no doubt, join the o.thers. 
 Iti the moonlight she could see Gladys' white dress and 
 tall figure as ahe stood in front of oue of the gunyas watch- 
 ing a group of blacks playing cards on their blankets. 
 To Gladys the blacks' eamp had the oharm of novelty, and 
 Tregaskisa would be amwsed at her questions and would 
 make the boys " show off," and forget bia worries, whatever 
 they might be. Clare did not love hev husband. At times 
 — Heaven forgive her !^she almost hated him, but she had 
 always derived a certain satisfaction fvora the knowledge 
 that whatever he iftight be to her she at least was necessary 
 to him. This assurance had comforted and sustained her in 
 " doing her duty," as unfortunate wives are apt to phrase to 
 themselves the disagreeables of their lot. But since hia 
 return after her illness, she had been strangely oonscioua 
 of aloofness on his part, jealous irritability altevnating with 
 BuUen avoidance of her society, and this had affected her 
 in a way which opce she could hardly haye believed possi- 
 ble. She attributed it to the change in her self, reacting 
 upon him, sedulously as she strove to shut in the secret of 
 her heart. To-night she had become aware, and with a 
 sense of shock, that the change was in him, and that some- 
 how there was a battle going on in his undeveloped nature ; 
 9f elementary instincts warring with each other, love for 
 
222 MRS. TEEGASKISS. 
 
 the Pickaninny, a certain fealty to her, and a strong im- 
 pulse in another direction. Was it that he was simply 
 bored with the life, longing to escape from his obligations, 
 monetary, marital, and paternal, — the latter holding him 
 back, — or could it be that he had conceived a sudden pas- 
 sion for another woman ? — Miss Lawford was the only one 
 who occurred to her mind. 
 
 At the thought a spasm of disgust shook her, not only 
 at her husband and Miss Lawford, but at herself. Gloss 
 and glorify it as she would, the bald fact remained that her 
 feeling for Geneste was as much outside the law as his for 
 Miss Lawford. They four were practically on the same 
 level I 
 
 No, no ! The finer part of her cried out in denial. 
 Geneste was true and noble ; and she, God help her ! she 
 would still " do her duty." 
 
 She came to a lonely little spot at the very edge of the 
 lagoon — a tiny inlet closed round with black gidia trees 
 growing rather apart, and so showing their strange 
 funereal boles and melancholy gray foliage, with white, 
 perfectly grassless ground beneath them. At the waters 
 edge was a fringe of fast withering rushes, and sometimes 
 there would be a rustle in it, a sort of long " tr — sse," like 
 that of a silk gown, and the dead dry reeds would bend 
 and break as a startled waterfowl rose with a discordant 
 cry of alarm. She could hear, too, the shrill chirrup of the 
 small tree frog, and the fat " poomp " of the bullfrog as it 
 flopped into the water. The place was creepy ; one or 
 two white-barked saplings of the flooded gum looked like 
 skeletons in the moonlight, and the water itself was black, 
 with here and there a faint greenish-brown scum, or a few 
 scattered leaves of the water-lily. 
 
 Clare seated herself upon a twisted root of one of the 
 gidia, trees protruding above the soil. Habit made her look 
 first to see that tliere was no snake lurking neai-, then she 
 bent forward, doubling herself, with her arms clasping her 
 
CLARE'S VOW. 223 
 
 knees and her head upon them, and her whole frame shak- 
 ing witli convulsive sobs. 
 
 She sobbed in sheer loneliness and desperation and long- 
 ing — longing for the sweetness she must not taste ; for the 
 joy so near, which she might not stretch out her hand to 
 seize. 
 
 The passion spent itself. Tlirough her sobs she had 
 been faintly conscious of low "Coo-ees." They miglit be 
 calling for her. What did it matter ? Slie knew that 
 no one would come to seek her in this hiding-place, the 
 security of which she had many times tested. She did not 
 hear some footsteps which approached slowly, scarcely 
 sounding in the devious course they pursued. But pres- 
 ently a voice said very low, and with an immense sorrow 
 and yearning : 
 
 " Clare ! Oh, my poor Clare ! " 
 
 She raised her head and lifted her ej'es, all wet and 
 shilling. Geneste was standing quite close to her, leaning 
 against the trunk of a gidia tree, and looking down on her 
 with eyes almost as bright as her own, from kept back 
 tears. 
 
 " Oh, my poor Clare ! " he repeated. 
 
 She tried to get up, but her limbs were stiff and cramped. 
 He bent down and put his arm round her, lifting her bodily. 
 When she was beside him he still kept his arm lightly 
 round her, but he refrained from other caress or further 
 words of tenderness. She, woman-like, almost resented the 
 restraint he put upon himself, which, had she known it, 
 cost jiim a hard tussle. Why was he so cold? 
 
 " Where are the others ?" she asked. 
 
 "They^ve gone back to the house. Mrs. Hilditch was 
 disappointed in her visit to Chance. She sent me on to 
 announce her, but when I got to the tent I could see only 
 what looked like a bundle of dirty clothes lying on a 
 blanket inside and presently the old man grunted out : 'Be 
 off with you ! If you want anything from me, you won't 
 
^^4 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 get it ! ' So I desparted. We stopped witli tlie blacks for 
 a bit, and Ning did the interpreting, and Mrs. Hilditoh 
 has made bei-self prettj well acquainted with the family 
 history of the tribe, and has arranged to photograph the 
 lot to-morrow. Tregaskiss came down and joined us at 
 the blacks' camp ; then we coo-eed for you, and at last I 
 said I would come and look for you." He had talked on, 
 giving Iier time to recover herself. 
 
 " How did you know where I should be? Nobodjr ever 
 comes here." 
 
 " Intuition told me. Spirit calling to spirit, rather. Do 
 you remember once telling me that you came down some- 
 times in the evening, and sat by the lagoon among the 
 gidia trees. I knew you would choose the most lonely 
 spot, and I walked round the bank till I found you. Clare, 
 it cannot be I who have made you so unhappy." 
 
 " iSTo — yes ; it all comes from the same thing." 
 
 " If I make .you unhappy," he said, in a pained tone, "I 
 had better go away and leave you to yourself. I had 
 better' come over here no more. But — I thouglrt it might 
 comfort you a little to know that there was a man near 
 you upon whose devotion you might rely, and toward 
 whom you would feel under no obligation — not ev-en to 
 return bisifeeling to the slightest degree." 
 
 As he spoke he withdrew his arm, in aslight movement 
 of pique, which wounded her and made her desperate. 
 
 " You don't understand ! I never had such a — rsuoh a 
 relation in my life before. I never thought it would 
 come. I have always been a straight woman. I cannot 
 act falsehoods. I cannot look :you in the face, and look 
 my husband in the face^and know — I haven't eared 
 for Keith, — or for the childi-en altogether, because, — 
 oh, poor little innocent things that I had no right to 
 bring into the world ! — because they were his. B«t I 
 had made up my mind that I would do the best I could 
 and that there should never be any reproach against me 
 
CLARE'S VOW. 225 
 
 — that I would keep myself apavt from wbat was evil. 
 And now," she went on hurriedly, looking away from him, 
 " now, I am no better than anyone else. I have despised — 
 others — and what am I? And perhaps it is this thing 
 which has acted upon him — one does not know how evil 
 in one's self and in other people acts back again ; it is in the 
 air. He, too I I thought he was straight and simple and 
 that he was true to me, and that I could help him and per- 
 haps do him good. And now, he too " She paused, 
 
 choked with a sob. 
 
 "You mean," said Geneste, surprised at what he sup- 
 posed the cause of her agitation, " that your husband has 
 been making rather a. fool of himself about Miss Lawford. 
 
 But he isn't capable You can't compare the two things. 
 
 And why should it affect you so much ? You must see that 
 it is utterly beneath you, and not to be spoken in the same 
 breath with my feeling for you." 
 
 " I cannot help it," she said helplessly. " I feel so 
 lonely, and I am frightened." 
 
 Tlie confession of weakness in her touched him infinitely, 
 it put her on a new footing in regard to himself ; it was 
 as though she had appealed to him, with her armour 
 doffed and her weapons thrown down, to maintain his 
 chivalrous attitude toward her, to come no nearer, to 
 respect her prohibition on words of love. He folded his 
 arms stiffly and drew back into his former position against 
 the tree. 
 
 "My poor child," he said, "do not be frightened of me ! 
 Have I not shown that I can obey you ? " 
 
 " It is not that," she answered, very low. " It is that 
 
 I " She paused. " Can't you understand ? It is that 
 
 I am frightened of myself." 
 
 " Clare ! " He had turned swiftly to her, his arms half 
 unlocked. "I have never asked you if you care for me," 
 he said. "I will not ask you now. I will not again say 
 to you the words you have bade me not speak." 
 
226 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 She kept her head away from him, though he could see 
 that she was trembling, and he knew by instinct that a 
 struggle was going on within her. 
 
 There was silence for a full miiiute, and the struggle 
 ended, as such struggles always do end. She made a little 
 piteous-movement toward him and looked up into his face. 
 And then he saw, what he had only before suspected, the 
 lieight and depth of passion which this strange, self-con- 
 tained, impassive creature was capable of reaching. Her 
 whole face was changed ; the still lips were quivering, the 
 eyes had an indescribable expression of tenderness, her 
 very form seemed pliable as a lily stem. Slie held out 
 both her hands, and he clasped them in his. " Don't you 
 see," she whispered ; " it is that I love you ? " 
 
 He gathered her up against him. 
 
 " Clare, ask me to say it, darling ! Ask me yourself to 
 tell you ! " 
 
 " Tell me " 
 
 "I love you ! I love you better than my life ; better 
 than anything the world holds or ever has held for me ! " 
 
 " Better than — that other woman ?" 
 
 " Yes. That's past, gone, dead. This is a different 
 thing altogether. That was a madness which nearly ruined 
 my life — did ruin it in one sense. That was my perdition ; 
 this will be my redemption." 
 
 He kissed her. 
 
 " Are you lonely now, Clare ? " 
 
 " No. I so wanted " 
 
 "Are you frightened of me now ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell, dearest. It is only for this once — just 
 
 so that we may know It is not you that have failed ; 
 
 it is I, and I don't care. I loill say it. I love j'ou, my 
 dearest. I'd like to stand out in the face of all the world 
 and acknowledge it. I'm not ashamed of loving you, you, 
 
 you, but I am ashamed of Oh, it can't go on ! If 
 
 we were to meet like this, and you kissed me, — it was so 
 
CLARE'S VOW. 227 
 
 Bweet, so sweet ! — I should long for you more and more. 
 I should live only on the hope of seeing you. It's almost 
 like that now. I should get to feel the life I must lead 
 more and more impossible. No, no, you mustn't speak. 
 I know what you are going to say. You must never say 
 it. We mustn't let ourselves go on. The children — every- 
 thing ! It would be too ghastly. Once I lost self-control 
 I shouldn't be able to bear it. I have always felt that. 
 There comes a sort of exaltation in the trying to hold 
 one's self in. One can smile and smile, and all the time 
 one's heart is breaking and no one knows. I could do that 
 till you came, and then you forced me to be myself, and 
 that was what first made me know." Her words rushed 
 out like a torrent escaping through loosened floodgates, 
 lie obeyed her literally, speaking never a word. " I 
 couldn't go home and put the children to bed, and hear 
 Ning say her prayers— after this. Not to-night. To-night 
 it doesn't matter ; nothing matters. But it's because I 
 brought those little things into this dreadful world, and 
 there's no one else ; and I don't love them — not even as 
 their father loves them. It's for that I must keep good. 
 I mustn't have — this. Once, dearest, dearest, once of my 
 very own self — what for no man in this world I have ever 
 done or ever shall do. I never kissed anyone like that. 
 Dearest, dearest of all, — the only one, — it is for you! 
 
 " Now we must go in. Never again ! never, never ! 
 No words of love, nothing spoken ; but we shall always 
 know — always trust each other. I want to keep myself 
 good. See, I shall make a vow — by my most sacred duty, 
 my duty to the children. If I break it, God will punish 
 me through them, through Ning — poor little Ning ! I 
 have made the vow. See ! " 
 
 She drew from her dress the little old-fashioned cross 
 she always wore and kissed it solemnly. Then silently she 
 led the way back, and he followed her. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE "specials" ON DTJTT. 
 
 Gladys IIilditch fitted curiously into tlie life at Mount 
 Wombo. Slie did not seem to feel the heat, which was 
 now becoming intense, and she did not greatly mind the 
 mosquitoes. At any rate, they did not seem to sting her, 
 or, if they did, no marks were left on her velvetty skin, 
 — that thick, smooth kind of skin which does not sunburn 
 easily and offers the least attraction to bloodthirsty insects. 
 Snakes, scorpions, and centipedes she did, as she declared, 
 draw the line at, but happily these were less common. 
 Nor did she appear inconvenienced by the absence of those 
 luxuries to which she had been accustomed. To be deliv- 
 ered from the whims and tyrannies of Parker, her maid, 
 was, she assured them, emancipation. Luxuriant wavy 
 hair, which grows low on a Clytie-like forehead and adorns 
 a perfectly shaped head, can be becomingly dressed in a 
 Greek knot at small trouble to its owner. Tliere did arise 
 a diificulty as to the starching and ironing of Gladys' 
 wonderful robes of muslin and lace, but she solved it by 
 getting out some pieces of China silk, which she had 
 bought in Singapore, and which she concocted into gar- 
 ments rather after the chiton model, and which had the 
 merit of not requiring frequent washing. There was 
 something so complete about Gladj'S that it was hard to 
 fancy her subject to the little sordid woes of ordinary 
 humanity. She was never ruffled, or hot, or tumbled- 
 looking. She seemed, soraeliow, a creature out of a poetry 
 book, made to bask luxurioisly in balmy air, to smile and 
 chatter in her soft, languid voice, and to please and be 
 
 S38 
 
THE "SPECIALS" OJT DUTY. 229 
 
 pleased by everybody. Cyrus Chance's simile of Fair lues 
 was not inappj'opiiate. 
 
 They saw nothing of the old man for some little time. 
 He took to going Port Victoria-ward by another route ; 
 and when, upon one oocasion, Clare met him riding on the 
 other side of the bore, and asked him why he did not con- 
 tinue Ilia reformation of Mrs. Hilditch, lie replied that he 
 did not want to find her out a vain, wheedling woman, 
 like all the rest, whicli he might do if there were other 
 men in the way, and that, moreover, he didn't intend to 
 give Tregaskiss another oppoTtuuity of making him eat 
 dirt. " But tell hei* she has done the old miser good," he 
 added to Clare, " and tbat maybe she'll find some time 
 the only three days old Cyrus ever spent in a womiin's 
 company since he grew to manhood will be written down 
 in his log. She and you, Mrs. Txegaakiss, have just given 
 me a revelation of wliat the poetry women might be 
 like." 
 
 Gladys laughed when Clare told her that she was the 
 embodiment of old Cyrus Chance's dreams of "poetry 
 women," and then she became grave. 
 
 " What's the use of :beiTig an ideal to ninety-nine men," 
 she aslced bitterly, " if the huiidredtli looks upon you as 
 an incarnate fiend?" 
 
 " Who is the hundredth man, Gladys ? " asked her 
 friend. 
 
 " Never mind," Gladj^s answered. " Perhaps I sliall tell 
 you some day. You don't doubt, I suppose, that there 
 have been the ninety-and-nine ? " 
 
 " No ; of that there could certainly be no doubt." 
 
 Gladys had a good many amusing stories of the suitors 
 of various nationalities who, since her widowhood, had 
 sighed at her feet, and of the struggle between love and 
 lucre in the minds of some of them when they had discov- 
 ered that upon ber remarriage the five thousand a year 
 would melt into nothingness. She had her cynical, sophis- 
 
230 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 ticated way also of toucbing upon the modern social codes 
 as regards the flirtations of married women. 
 
 " It's a disappointment, dear. Tlie lieroics and the pla- 
 tonics are so magnificent at the beginning, but they never 
 last. The day always comes when it's a question with the 
 man of all or nothing, and then worse luck for the poor 
 woman if it's all, and worse still if she has the strength to 
 make it notliing. Clare," — and Gladys became suddenly 
 earnest, — "don't believe in heroics." 
 
 " You used to preach them once, Gladj's." 
 
 " Once ! Ah, that was before I married Mr. Hilditch." 
 
 " Gladys, was he so very bad to you ? " 
 
 " Bad ! He was goodness itself — as far as loading me 
 with diamonds, giving me everything I could want, and 
 glorying in me as the most satisfying investment he had 
 ever made, counts as goodness. He wasn't a bad sort," — 
 Clare remembered that Blanchard had used the words, — " he 
 was good-natured till his illness increased, and made him 
 gradually more and more irritable and unreasonable — but 
 he was low, low, mean and vulgar. He didn't know what 
 an ideal meant, everything he touched seemed to wither 
 into something contemptible, something sordid as he was 
 himself. To live with him was like being shut up without 
 a single breath of pure fresh air, in a stove-heated atmos- 
 phere. The American railway carriages, with their closed 
 ventilators and horrible money-making crowd of pas- 
 sengers, used to remind me of him. That was his view of 
 life, and sharing it was the being slowly poisoned. Do 
 you know, I used sometimes to look back upon the dirty 
 old studio daj's — and mamma and her cheap art, and Cas- 
 sandra's nonsense, and the dreadful second-rate actors and 
 authors talking shop at our ' at homes,' which Ave always 
 thought, in their way, just as bad as anything could be — 
 with a positive longing. Oh, it was salvation to come 
 across something disinterested, something noble, someone 
 who did not live only for self, for making and spending 
 
THE "SPECIALS" ON DUTY. 231 
 
 money, for eating and drinking, and racing and flirting — 
 and worse ; someone wlio did not always impute mean 
 motives, who could sacrifice worldly advantages for tlie 
 sake of an idea — for tlie sake of honesty and self-respect." 
 Gladys stopped. Her voice had deepened with gathering 
 emotion. " Clare," she went on, almost in a whisper now, 
 coming closer and kneeling down by the chair on which 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss sat, with her sewing in her lap, " if you 
 had been living my life, and felt yourself getting worse 
 and worse, more vain and insincere, and dependent upon 
 excitement, no matter of what kind, to distract from the 
 inward gnawing, and if you had met such a one — a man 
 unlike all otlier men you had ever known, wouldn't you 
 have stretched out your hands to him as if he had been 
 your saviour, and implored him to take pity upon you, and 
 teach you what good meant " 
 
 "Yes ; tell me, Gladj^s." 
 
 " Tell you ! " Gladys suddenly rose, and her emotion 
 ended in a bitter little laugh. "Clare, you know — you 
 know ! Don't be deluded by it ; don't stretch out your 
 hand ; don't think any good will come of it. It will be 
 the old, old story. If he's human, he'll fall in love with 
 you, and hate himself and despise you ; and if he is super- 
 humanly good and strong, he'll despise you just the same 
 — and desert you ; and all your life afterward will be 
 just one long ache to win his good opinion again, so 
 tiiat you will go to the other end of the world for the 
 chance of seeing him once more, and feeling yourself — 
 forgiven." 
 
 Gladys walked to the open French window, and stood 
 there looking out, saying nothing. Clare followed. Tlien 
 as if to prevent her from making any comment on the 
 outburst, Gladys cried : 
 
 " I'm going down to bathe in the creek, and I want 
 Ning to come along, and we'll take the camera and after- 
 ward photograph the pickaninnies in a gronp. Clare, 
 
232 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 there's a black boy riding up tbroagbi the clearing, and hfl 
 doesm't look like one of our lot." 
 
 "My word !" cried Nrrig, in mongrel English ;• "yarra- 
 man belonging to that fellow plenty knocked up." 
 
 "He's got rather the look of Gordon's last messenger," 
 observed Gladys, "a sort of ' beleaguered city' air." 
 
 Gladys was not altogether wrong in her conjecture. 
 Tregaskiss, who had been mending saddles in the work- 
 shop, came in presently with a letter in his hand. The 
 boy bad ridden over in hot haste from Brinda Plains, 
 bearer of an urgent request from Mr. Cusaick, that Tregas- 
 kiss would bring over such armed men as he could muster, 
 for the protection of the Brinda Plains head-station and 
 woolshed, upon which a large force of unionists were I'e- 
 ported to be marching. He was also begged to send the 
 news to Geneste. Mr. Cusack stated that he had already 
 invoked the aid of the specials from Ilgandah,but that as 
 they might be engaged on the same dutj' elsewhere, he con- 
 sidered it wise to appeal also to his neighbours. The letter 
 concluded with an invitation to Mrs. Tregaskiss and her 
 friend, if they should be nervous about remaining without 
 sufficient guard at home, to accompany Tregaskiss and his 
 men, so that all the ladies might be safely under one roof 
 and duly protected. There was no danger of their en- 
 countering the mai-auders on the route, nor the slightest 
 risk of violence to them, as the strikers were moving 
 from an opposite direction. But it was well to be prepared 
 against all possible contingencies, and if the alarm came to 
 nothing, they could, no doubt, find sufficient amusement 
 at Brinda Plains to repay them for the trouble of the long 
 ride. Clearly, in Mr. Cnsack's estimation, a stay at Brinda 
 Plains under any conditions was preferable to residence 
 at Mount Wombo. 
 
 There was a lofty patronage in the tenor of Mr. Cu- 
 sack's invitation, blending amusingly with his evident 
 alarm and anxiety to swell the force at Brinda Plains as 
 
THE "SPECIALS" ON DUTY. 233 
 
 much as possible, which Gladys scented, and which pro- 
 voked Mrs. Tregaskiss' scorn. Tregaskiss was as elated as 
 a schoolboy ; he wanted to set off at once. Clare demurred, 
 and it was finally settled that he should start over by him- 
 self that evening, leaving the ladies to follow under Mr. 
 Shand's escort on the following morning. Mr. Hansen was 
 to be recalled from the out-station, to keep watch at Mount 
 Wombo, and to send on the alarm in case of any attack, 
 which was considered very improbable. Tregaskiss ex- 
 cused his haste to obey the summons on the plea that he 
 might be able to pounce more easily on the men who had 
 killed his horses. He was also going to take some spare 
 horses, which would be left halfway, in readiness for tiie 
 morrow. A long cavalcade started early the next morn- 
 ing. Mr. Shand drove the buggy with Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 the children, and Claribel. The baggage was partly 
 strapped on behind, but Mrs. HilJitch's gowns necessitated 
 a pack-horse as well, and Gladys rode beside the black boy 
 who drove it. Gladys manner showed tension, and Clare 
 divined something of her state of repressed excitement. 
 She, too, was inwardly perturbed, for was she not going to 
 meet Geneste ? It was more than to be expected that he 
 would obey the summons, for he would know that she had 
 left Mount Wombo — she had taken the precaution of 
 giving him this information, so that he might not be anxious 
 and perhaps have a needless ride to assure himself that all 
 was well. So Clare excused her letter to him, but she 
 knew only too well that the craving to be with him was in- 
 creasing day by day, and the repressive system which both 
 had so far conscientiously pursued, seemed in both but to 
 sharpen the edge of longing. Sometimes Clare wondered 
 whether, in spite of her vow, barriers would one day be 
 thrown down, and the touch of his lips, the pressure of his 
 arms, be again courted in desperate heart-hunger which 
 would endure no denial. Then she would fall on her knees 
 and pray ; and she would look at the little cross, which 
 
234 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 was the symbol of all she held most holy, and recall the 
 vow which she had made ; she had superstitious dread 
 lest, if she allowed herself to drift into more lover-like 
 relations with Geneste, the expiatory penalty she had half 
 invoked upon her child would be duly dealt fortli. 
 
 So these two women had each their secret anxieties and 
 passionate musings, as they went on their journey through 
 the length of that tropical day. The heat Avas intense, and 
 seemed reflected from the parched plain ; the cattle, lean and 
 thirsty, looked up patheticallj' from their scanty pastur- 
 age ; the water-holes were dry and parched ; the flies 
 swarmed round the buggy ; desolation and drought 
 reigned on the face of the land. Then, when the plains 
 ended, came more melancholy stretches of gidia scrub — the 
 sandy flat with nothing but salt-bush growing beneath the 
 stunted, dried-up trees, and as afternoon crept on, the still- 
 ness of noonday giving place to strange insect noises, 
 whirring of locusts, and scuttering of iguana. 
 
 When they halted for the change of horses, Gladys 
 gave a little shudder, and for the first time professed her- 
 self disenchanted with bush life. 
 
 " How have you lived all these years, with every faculty 
 in you starved, and no hope of escape from these dreary 
 desert plains ? " she cried. 
 
 "Ah, you haven't seen the plains after rain and in the 
 early spring," answered Clare. " They are beautiful then, 
 with the sandal-wood in blossom, and the horrible lignum 
 vitse covered with the most beautiful white flowers. And 
 here is someone worse off than I am." 
 
 They had stopped at a fencer's encampment, and a hand- 
 some, discontented young woman appeared at the opening 
 of a tent which had a bough-shade in front of it, and invited 
 them in. Slie took a baby out of a tub, which she turned 
 upside down for Gladys to sit upon. "It's an outlandish 
 place to see a lady," she said, " and you don't look like the 
 bush, somehow." She made them some quart-pot tea, and 
 
THE "SPECIALS" ON DUTY. 235 
 
 Clare, with her patient kindliness, took the dirty, crying 
 baby on her knee and nursed it into quietude, while Claribel 
 walked about with her own. Gladys helped to prepare the 
 tea, and Ning prattled in her queer way ; it was not an 
 unpleasant interlude, and roused both the women, perhaps 
 the fencer's wife too, from morbid dreams, bringing Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss once more into the demesne of practical life. 
 She talked to the fencer's wife about her baby, about the 
 hardships of her lot, and bade her try and get over for 
 a short holiday to Mount Wombo. They might perhaps 
 manage to give her and the baby a lift on their return 
 journey, she said ; and then she had the pack unstrapped 
 and searched till she found a tin of groats and some pre- 
 served milk for the child. 
 
 It was nearly dark when they reached Brinda Plains, 
 and the many verandaed house, standing in its green 
 garden, was, Gladys said, like an oasis in a march through 
 Sahara. It did not seem as though the place were in par- 
 ticular need of an armed force to protect it, though there 
 was a look of expectancy upon the faces of the men drawn 
 up in an irregular line close to the woolshed, in the veranda 
 of which a number of bales ready sewn up were waiting 
 for cartage, and a row of carbines near them suggested 
 preparations for siege. A party of ladies, among whom was 
 Tregaskiss, were standing near the workings as the buggy 
 drove up, and Helen, followed by Tregaskiss and Mies Law- 
 ford, came forward. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss, how nice of you to come and to 
 bring Mrs. Hilditch I We did so want to see Mrs. Hilditch. 
 Mother says that father's concern about the strikers was all 
 a plant to get Mrs. Hilditch over," — Helen did not disdain 
 occasional Australianisms. " We have heard nothing more, 
 and now we have got the specials, and we dance every 
 evening, and it is really great fun. Miss Lawford and I 
 are wishing that there might be an alarm every week." 
 
 Helen's greetings to Mrs. Hilditch were tempered with 
 IG 
 
236 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 awe. Wliat a wonderful place must England be, if it pvo- 
 diiced only such beings as these two women, and was it a 
 marvel that Englishmen did not take Australian girls to 
 wife when they had the chance of marrying a Clare Tre- 
 gaskiss or a Gladys Hilditch ? Such were her reflections, 
 and she did not know that both Gladys and Clare were 
 studying her with a wistful interest, and wondering, in their 
 turn, that Australian men should ever want to go elsewhere 
 for their mates. 
 
 Miss Lawford was hysterically effusive, especially to the 
 children. She insisted upon carrying the baby, and held 
 Ning's hand as she walked beside the child's father. She 
 liad a fretted, anxious appearance, and her nervousness took 
 the form of forced gaiety. Poor little mortal ! she, too, 
 meant no harm ; she was only a loosely tied bundle of 
 nerves and sensations, cravings for excitement and unhealthy 
 impulses, tossed about at the caprice of fate, and rebound- 
 ing with more or less force against the circumstances that 
 environed her. Moreover, strange as it may appear, she was 
 the victim of a genuine infatuation for Tregaskiss, one of 
 those attractions of physique and temperament as com- 
 pelling, after their fashion, as others of the more spiritual 
 kind. His strong animal vitality dominated her nervous 
 and morbid disposition, and gave her the stimulant her 
 nature needed. The fact that he was married, and that she 
 hated Mrs. Tregaskiss and wished to make her uncomfort- 
 able, had at first given. zest to the flirtation now long past 
 that stage, and which, to do Tregaskiss credit, would never 
 have gone the length it had done, but for her encourage- 
 ment and her sudden avowal that she was in love with 
 him. " In love " expresses the feverish sentiment which 
 consumed both ; it is very doubtful whether either of the 
 two was capable of love as a permanent condition. 
 
 Mr. Cusack was a little ashamed of his hasty summons. 
 
 "Told Tregaskiss that I knew it was the only way to 
 bring you over," he said blusteringly. " It would never have 
 
THE "SPECIALS" ON DUTY. 237 
 
 done for Mrs. Hilditoli to leave the district without seeing 
 Brinda Plains. Not that I'm one to 'blow,' as we 
 Australians put it, but things are as they are, Mrs. Hilditch, 
 and if this is considered the show place on the Leura, that's 
 not my fault, is it ? " 
 
 He was very attentive to Gladys. A beautiful widow 
 with five thousand a year was a personage to command 
 consideration. Mrs. Cusack, too, was anxious to show that 
 they were thoroughly English, and that if the gentlemen 
 did not don the regulation dress-suit for dinner, it was only 
 because the heat compelled them to adopt a cooler costume. 
 She insisted in summer upon immaculate garments of white 
 duck, so she informed Gladys, and woe betide the unhappy 
 traveller unsuitably equipped. 
 
 " Of course you know, my dear," explained the lady of 
 Brinda Plains, " if a person sends in his name, it is under- 
 stood in the bush that he is received into the parlour, 
 but unless we see that he is a gentleman and accustomed 
 to the ways of society, we dp not quite treat him as one 
 of ourselves." 
 
 Geneste was in the veranda when the Mount Wombo 
 pai'ty arrived. He had come an hour or two earlier. At 
 dinner, Mrs. Hilditch having been given the place of 
 honour, he found himself beside Clare. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Blanchard ? " she asked. 
 
 " Poor Blanchard I I don't think he was prepared for 
 the surprise in stoi'e for him. He has been at Ilgandah 
 after the specials, and only came. back just before dinner. 
 The new chums are having their meal at the bachelors' 
 quarters, — like the grown-up children who are sent to the 
 school-room when there's a dinner party, — to make room 
 for our brave defenders." 
 
 The specials, mustering about a dozen, and their gray 
 uniforms turned back with scarlet, made an agreeable 
 variety among the white duck garments at the table. 
 They were mostly young men, " the gilded youth of 
 
238 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Leicliardt's Land, as the Leura Chronicle called them, who 
 had volunteered for the occasion, and were having rather 
 a good time among the Leura young ladies. Helen 
 Cusack had one of them on her right, and young Gillespie 
 on the other side of the table looked cross, and would 
 hardly speak to another special who was his next neigh- 
 hour. Clare noticed that he had lost his consumptive ap- 
 pearance, and Mrs. Cusack drew attention to this increase 
 of flesh and colour, which she attributed to the excellent 
 care she had given him. 
 
 " I wish I could have poor Mrs. Carmody over here for 
 six months," said that good lady. "I'd make a cure with 
 my egg flip and port-wine jelly, sooner than you will do. 
 Dr. Geneste, with your drugs." 
 
 " I wish my drugs had a chance," said Geneste, " not that 
 I believe in drugs anyhow, but Carmody won't have it 
 that there is anything the matter, and will not let me sug- 
 gest anything." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Mrs. Cusack comfortably, " she is much 
 better again now, poor thing ! such a colour, and in capital 
 spirits. She needs to have a spirit, with all those children 
 depending upon her." 
 
 " I wish you would go over and see Mrs. Carmody," 
 Geneste said to Mrs. Tregaskiss. " She and her husband 
 both dislike the Cusacks — except Miss Cusack, of course, 
 and it is difiicult for her to see much of them. She told 
 me that she had taken a great fancy to you." 
 
 " I will go certainly ; but how ? We are a long way off." 
 
 " Not when you are here. If you stay long enough, we 
 might ride over one day to luncheon — it is not more than 
 fifteen miles. I can't help thinking you would be a com- 
 fort to her." 
 
 They fell into silence. To talk commonplace was dif- 
 ficult now, and nothing else was possible. Sometimes it 
 seemed to Clare that words between them were not needed, 
 the joy of being near each othei-, with the bond of perfect 
 
THE "SPECIALS" ON DUTY. 239 
 
 sympatliy uniting their souls, was sufficient to make all 
 conditions paradisaic, and tlicn at other times she had a 
 desperate sense of revolt against limitations, and told her- 
 self that it would be almost better never to see him at all 
 than under such restraint. To-night, once or twice she 
 became conscious that Helen Cusack was watching tliera, 
 and there was something in the girl's wistful gaze which 
 went to her heart. What right had she to come and 
 take away Helen's lover ? for slie had an intuition that, 
 but for her, Geneste would now be Helen's declared suitor. 
 Geneste himself, to a certain extent, shared this feeling, 
 and could never rid himself altogether of a sense of dis- 
 loyalty. Helen was in truth very unhappy, but she had a 
 brave heart, and determined that Geneste should not suspect 
 her secret. Least of all would she have it suspected by Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss, though as yet her vague fancy that Geneste 
 had any deeper regard for Clare than that of a friend had 
 not definitely shaped itself in her mind. But the mind 
 of a pure girl is, unconsciously to itself, a touchstone. 
 Helen was wretched, because her instinct told her that 
 there were complications in the lives of those around her, 
 not all for good. She wished that her mother would send 
 away Miss Lawford ; she wished that Mr. Ti-egaskiss could 
 be induced to take less whiskey, and, in their preparations 
 for this evening, she had begged Mrs. Cusack to be less 
 liberal with the rum in her concoction of the Leura mix- 
 ture. It was, however, hardly necessary to give Mrs. 
 Cusack the warning, for as a matter of fact the neighbour- 
 hood was by this time pretty well aware of Tregaskiss' 
 weakness. " What a pity ! " people said, — those at any rate 
 who felt themself unassailable in the matter of too free in- 
 dulgence in " nips," — " such a good-looking fellow, and soci- 
 able and open-handed, too, when the humour took him — 
 though he could be near enough in some ways, and, unlike 
 old Cyrus Chance, whose bark was always worse than his 
 bite, free in promises, though not so ready in fulfilment." 
 
240 MRS. TRE(?ASKISS. 
 
 Tregaskiss was morosely silent, and his eyes had a wild 
 look. Clare watched him -with dread. She was always 
 nervous when with him in company, and she, too, was silent 
 and preoccupied. The dinner went, however, in other re- 
 spects merrily enough. The specials had a great deal to 
 say for themselves. Mr. Cusack talked loudly, and Gladys 
 was feverishly animated in her quiet, well-bred way. She 
 responded readily to Mr. Cusack's sallies, but her eyes 
 wandered searchingly round, and she paled at the sound of 
 any stir outside. After dinner, when they were all sitting in 
 the veranda, a little troop of tall men in white clothes filed 
 out through the drawing-room, and Mrs. Cusack called out : 
 
 " Come, Mr. Shand, I hope you got properly looked after 
 at the quarters I You see, we are rather crowded out. 
 Mr. Blanchard, I hope you have brought down some songs. 
 I am sure Mrs. Hilditch would like to hear them. Come 
 and be introduced to Mrs. HiWitch. This is Mr. Blanchard," 
 she added to Gladys. " He has not been so very long out 
 from England, and so you should have plenty to talk about. 
 We all chaff Mr. Blanchard about being so very English." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GLADYS PLEADS. 
 
 AiiBEOSB Blanchaed bowcd profoundly. Gladys half 
 rose and held out her hand. 
 
 " Mr. Blanchard and I have met in England," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Cusack was all amazement. " Aiid you never told 
 us ! " she exclaimed reproachfully to the young man. 
 "And when we were all so excited at hearing of Mrs, 
 Tregaskiss' English friend — we don't often have such 
 visitovs on the Leura," she added, turning to Gladys," — " I 
 think it is very strange of Mr. Blanchard to have kept so 
 close about you." 
 
 " Not at all strange," replied Gladys, with self-possession. 
 " There are other Mrs. Hilditches in the world ; it is a 
 very common name, and I have several sisters-in-law. 
 Come," she said, making a dexterous movement, which 
 swept her squatter's chair well back into the shadow of a 
 vine, and motioning, with a little imperious movement, to 
 Blanchard to obey her signal, " do sit down and tell me 
 evei-ything that has happened to you since we met." 
 
 He drew another chair beside her. Far less composed 
 than she, it was a minute or two before he answered. 
 That moment of silence was big with memories. To 
 Ambrose Blanchard, Gladys Hilditch represented the 
 supreme temptation of his life ; he had fled from her in 
 distrust of himself, and, as she believed, in scorn of her. 
 
 "There is not much to tell," he said. "I've knocked 
 about and roughed it a good deal; and I made a little 
 money at the gold fields, and then I lost it ; now I am 
 here, learning something about the management of sheep, 
 
 241 
 
24i2 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 with an idea of going into partnership with some likely 
 person later on." He paused, and she said nothing. Now 
 that they were out of the range of Mrs. Cusack's eyes, she 
 made no attempt to keep up the farce and play the part 
 of a tourist amused at and inquisitive about everything 
 around her. " It is very good of you," he added, " to be 
 interested in ray doings." 
 
 Still she made no reply. 
 
 "Have you — have you," he asked nervously, "seen any- 
 thing of my people ? " 
 
 " You know we gave up 'Felmarshes," Glady's returned, 
 without directly answering his question. 
 
 " I had not heard. But of course there must have been 
 a difference," he said vaguely. " I know nothing ; nobody 
 has written." 
 
 "I heard from Gertrude not long ago ; she said they 
 had liad a letter from you." 
 
 " Poor Gertrude ! I conclude that my father has forbid- 
 den her to hold communication with his renegade son." 
 
 " She saj-s that she is bound by her promise to him. I 
 think she interprets it rather too literally." 
 
 " Well, I suppose that a wife is bound to obey her hus- 
 band," he i-eplied. "I confess that Ihad little hope of any 
 good coming from her intercession. However, her boy 
 will be the gainer — though that was not the point. But I 
 have nothing to say against Gertrude," he added. " She 
 was a veiy good stepmother." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Mrs. Blanchard would perform alwaj^s what 
 was in her bond," said Gladys ; " but she would not do any- 
 thing more, especially if it were against her interests." 
 
 " Perliaps ! And you don't know anything about my 
 father — poor old chap?" Blanchard spoke with feeling. 
 
 "I know that he is looking dreadfully aged ; and 
 though he is as hai-d as a rock, and will never go from his 
 word, I am sure he frets a good deal about you." 
 
 "Then you have seen him?" cried Blanchard eagerly. 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 243 
 
 " I went down to see him ; and it was he who told me 
 where you were. I wanted to be able to give you the last 
 news of him — if we should meet." 
 
 " That was good of you ; but So it was of no use ? " 
 
 " No, it was of no use. If you want to do any good, you 
 must go home." 
 
 " I can't do that," Blanchard answered. " I am like my 
 father ; and I cannot go back from my word. He was 
 looking ill, yon say ? " 
 
 " Yes ; infirm and broken. Mr. Blanchard, do not be 
 stubborn; go home and be reconciled." 
 
 " I am afraid that is impossible," he answered. There 
 was a pause and then he said : " I am very glad, since you 
 decided to visit Australia, that you should have come 
 where we were certain to meet." 
 
 " I Of course I should naturally want to be with 
 
 Clare Tregaskiss. We were girls together." 
 
 "I remember your telling me that you had a friend in 
 Australia, but I only learned the other day that it was 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss." 
 
 Again there was a pause. He went on in a conventional 
 tone : 
 
 " You must have been sorry to give up Felmarshes." 
 
 " No, I was not sorry," she added. " It was while we 
 were in Egypt that wintei* — after you left — that Mr. Hil- 
 ditch got so much worse. We never went back to Fel- 
 marshes again." 
 
 " I was very sorry to hear of your loss," he said, still 
 conventionally. 
 
 " Oh, don't let us talk as if we stood qnite outside the 
 truth of everything ! " Gladys exclaimed, her whole manner 
 changing, as she turned her eyes on liirh for an instant in 
 piercing reproach. " You must know how I feel about it ; 
 and how I have hated myself. But I," — she faltered, 
 and there came into her voice the break as of tears, — "I 
 tried to do what I could for him." 
 
244 MRS. TREQASKISS. 
 
 " Indeed, I am sure of that." 
 
 "I don't know why you should be so sure of it," she 
 answered, with a sad little laugh. "Your opinion can't 
 have altered much, and you never thought well of me in old 
 days — not even as well, perhaps, as I deserved. You never 
 gave me credit for being sincere about anything. You 
 looked upon me as a mere vain, heartless creature of 
 moods, living for the distraction of the hour and taking 
 my moral hashisch in whatever form it happened to offer 
 itself — society, gambling, amateur philanthropy, religion, 
 preaching woman's wrongs " 
 
 " Or breaking men's hearts," he put in bitterly. 
 
 " Yes ; I know what you are thinking of. Well, I'll 
 admit it ; breaking men's hearts, if you choose." Her 
 voice had become hai'd,- and she spoke with a defiant 
 accent. " It was a bad business, that of your friend, the 
 Socialist. It cured me of my East-End mania and of 
 my democratic tendencies. It cured me of other things, 
 besides." 
 
 " Don't ! " he exclaimed, half stretching out his hand as 
 though her words and manner hurt him too severely. 
 
 " Yes, I know. You are thinking that I am as heartless 
 as ever — that I am glorying, perhaps, at this moment, in 
 the thought that a man killed himself because of me. 
 You meant me to know that ; you did not spare me. I 
 got his letter — and the rest. The outside envelope told 
 me that you had sent it — that you had guessed I was the 
 woman he meant. I knew that he was the reason that 
 you never came to see me any more." 
 
 " Ironside was my friend — and I saw him lying dead." 
 
 "Do you think," she cried, " that I, too, haven't seen 
 him lying dead — night after night, in my dreams, and 
 when I have wakened up cold, in the darkness, and trem- 
 Jjling with terror ? Would you believe that I nearly died 
 of the horror of it ? And do you think, too, that would 
 have happened if I had met 5'ou before I met him? " 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 246 
 
 " I don't know. How can I tell. I suppose a bird of 
 prey must obey its instincts." 
 
 " A bird of prey ! Oh, you are cruel I" 
 
 She leaned back in the chair, drawing her body together 
 with a slight shudder. For several minutes neither spoke. 
 A lamp was moved within, and the light of it streamed 
 through the French window on to Gladys' face. It gave 
 him a shock to see how her face had changed ; and how that 
 sudden look of age had come upon it. Just then there was 
 a noise and stir, as Mr. Cusack, followed by some of the 
 gentlemen who had remained in the dining-room, came 
 out and spoke to a trooper waiting outside. He had to 
 report news communicated by a traveller, stopping for the 
 night at the huts, to the effect that the unionists, hearing 
 the station was so well guarded, had abandoned their war- 
 like purpose, and were quietly dispersing. The incident 
 occasioned some flutter in the veranda, and under cover of 
 it Gladys rose, withdrawing from the light. Blanchard 
 got up, too, and was making a formal excuse for leaving 
 her, but she stopped him. 
 
 " No, no ! What does it matter about the unionists ? 
 I felt that the prospect of an attack was too good to come 
 true. It would have been exciting; but I am doomed to 
 be disappointed. Well, aren't you saying to yourself : 
 'That is just how she used to be; the bird of prey 
 instincts are so strong in her still ' ? " 
 
 "No," he replied. " I am sorry I said that. I see that 
 it wounded you." 
 
 " Come out into the garden," she said abruptly, " I see 
 there are people walking about. I can make out Di'. 
 Geneste and, is it Clare — or pretty Miss Cusack ? Ah, it's 
 Clare 1 I wonder you did not fall in love with Miss 
 Cusack. But, perhaps you have fallen in love with her ?" 
 
 He made an impatient gesture of denial. 
 
 They were in the garden now, walking between the lit- 
 tle avenue of orange trees. Gladys stopped to comment 
 
246 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 upon the stars — to ask questions about the southern con- 
 stellations. She thought the Southern Cross overrated ; 
 and she had seen nothing on the Leura yet, in the matter 
 of atmospheric effect, comparable to the Egyptian after- 
 glow. She had observed, also, that the fashion of sleeves 
 in the bush was in the same stage of evolution as in 
 the remoter districts of London. That means survival of 
 monstrosity. "Please observe the cut of mine. The 
 sleeves in the London streets got on my nerves ; they 
 were making me seriously ill — they, and other things ; 
 it's always the last straw, you know. When I told my 
 doctor, he suggested a trip into the wilds of Africa or 
 Australia. But you see that there's no escape for me. 
 That little, dark, prettyish, fifth-rate-looking governess, 
 whom Mr. Tregaskiss seems to admire, would do credit to 
 Westbourne Grove. There's one atrocity of civilisation, 
 however, that I don't find here. Cook hasn't yet vul- 
 garised the blacks." 
 
 "No doubt they are being demoralised by more per- 
 nicious influences of civilisation." 
 
 He spoke awkwardly. Her inconsequent chatter, veil- 
 ing, as he felt it did, an agitation she was afraid might 
 master her, afflicted him terribly, and when she answered 
 with her soft, falsely-strung laugh : 
 
 " Oh, of course, human nature is the same all the world 
 over, and the vices of barbarism are pretty much what 
 one finds them in London drawing-rooms." 
 
 " I am beginning to discover that here already ! " he 
 exclaimed impetuously. " It is my turn now to beseech 
 you that we may not talk banalities. At least let us be 
 true to ourselves." 
 
 "Even to our vices?" she asked, laughing again; and 
 then went on in a totally different tone : 
 
 " Yes, that's what I came to Australia for. I wanted to 
 tell you the truth about something." 
 
 " To tell me 1" he repeated.. 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 247 
 
 " You can't accuse me this time of not being candid. It 
 is not often a woman has the honesty to own to a man 
 that she has travelled twelve thousand miles — more or 
 less — on the chance of seeing him. Let us sit here." 
 
 She had halted at the seat under the passion vine, to 
 which he had almost unconsciously led her, as the most 
 retired which the garden offered. He did not obey her 
 invitation to place himself by her side, but stood leaning 
 against the trellis, and there was something aloof and 
 judicial in his aspect — the result indeed of nervous tension 
 and not of disapprobation — which goaded her to desperate 
 frankness. 
 
 " I wanted to tell you the whole truth about my 
 relations with Mr. Ironside. I never talked to you much 
 about him. I did not know you were such great friends 
 till — after everything was over. I never saw you 
 together." 
 
 " We were not much together — at that time, and ' great 
 friends,' in the ordinary sense, we were not," he answered 
 stiffly. " We had different grooves of action. I may say 
 now that I did not sympathise entirely with poor Ironside's 
 methods, which latterly got too anarchic for my taste. 
 As the demagogue, I confess that he jarred a little upon 
 me, but as the man " 
 
 " Ah, the man ! He was one by himself." 
 
 " As the man, he influenced my life more than any other 
 human being has done. It was he who first inoculated me 
 with socialistic theories — notions that I feel now to have 
 been mistaken. He first brought home to me the virtue 
 of intellectual honesty, and made me feel the absolute 
 necessity of giving up the Church. He was like the spark 
 to the tow, and his enthusiasm carried one along with the 
 force of a high wind driving a flame. Then I admired his 
 immense resources ; his power of organisation. His very 
 fanaticism was inspiring." 
 
 " He was a fanatic in everything," assented Gladys. 
 
248 MRS. TREGASKIS9. 
 
 " He was bound to die for something before reaching his 
 prime ; a cause, perhaps as little worthy — as the woman." 
 Her voice dropped. " It is not heartlessness which makes 
 me speak of him in that impersonal way," she said gently. 
 " Please believe that. I have thought and fell so much 
 about him, that I have got to look upon him more as an 
 instrument of fate than as an ordinary human being. For 
 me, too, in a very different way, he has been a determin- 
 ing influence." 
 
 She stopped. Blanchard seemed to be waiting for her to 
 explain herself further. She began again, the words rush- 
 ing forth impulsively, with scarcely any break : 
 
 " Mr. Blanchard, I want to say to you, in my own 
 extenuation, what you never gave me a chance of saying. 
 I don't suppose my conduct deserves to be extenuated, but 
 at any rate you shall know now the exact truth about it, 
 and you shall think me, then, as bad as you please. It was 
 not vanity and greed of conquest which in the beginning 
 made me see all I could of John Ironside. It — it was 
 something of the same kind of feeling which later" — she 
 hesitated — " later drew me to you. My attraction toward 
 him was a coarse, crude attempt at realising that feeling — 
 in him — which was afterward realised in you. Oh, people 
 make such a mistake in supposing that women's instinct 
 always guides them straight in matters of that kind ! 
 One's nature has a need, and the first attempt to satisfy it 
 is as elementary, often, as the savages' fetish -belief. I 
 don't know how to make you understand " 
 
 " I think I do understand," he said, still with the sug- 
 gestion of aloofness in his manner. " You thought Iron- 
 side might help you as you afterward fancied — mistakenly 
 too — that I might be able to help j'ou. Perhaps we 
 might have helped you, one or other of us, if we had been 
 less human and you — a different sort of woman." 
 
 " Ah ! " A gleam of joy came into Gladys' face. 
 " Yes, you might have helped me," she said slowly. " You 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 249 
 
 miglit have done a great deal for me. But j-ou'would not ; 
 you deserted me. John Ironside could not have helped 
 me — in any real way. There waB no real affinity. The 
 elements of corahination weren't there. It was an acci- 
 dental attraction — one that had nothing to do with spirit, 
 though the attraction was genuine enough, at first. He 
 happened to come into my life at a critical moment, when 
 I was in a mood of intense revulsion, and when I was 
 utterly rudderless. For the moment be dominated my 
 nature, and his charm for me was that for the first time I 
 encountered what seemed a granite man. We acted and 
 reacted upon each other. I think the influence must have 
 liad something electric in it." 
 
 " Yours upon him was certainly of that kind." 
 " In the beginning it was the fascination of repulsion, 
 for him, anyhow, I fancy. And then the poles changed. 
 For me he was something positive, compelling. He 
 forced life upon me in its hideousness, its reality, its mag- 
 nificent power — life in the big thrilling sense, not in that of 
 my drawing-room drama. Ho made me long to experi- 
 ence tlie grip of strong feeling — of an intoxication which 
 
 freed one from one's self. You know No, you can't 
 
 know, or guess, what my marriage was to me — the awful 
 deadness of it. Sometimes I feel that Clare Tregaskiss 
 knows and understands, but she is strong, she can hide 
 what she suffers under that strange quiet smile, and I long 
 to tell her, to talk to her of it, and I dare not. Oh, how 
 one agonised for a breath of something pungent. I tried to 
 get it in — well, you know the sort of flirtations a London 
 woman falls into — and the kind of men. I tried every- 
 tliing to give me sensations — even to reading horrid 
 French novels ; and t,hen I went on a pilgrimage to 
 Lourdes for my soul's healing. John Ironside was the 
 person to appeal to me in that mood. There wasn't the 
 least thouglit, at first, of making him love me. The East- 
 End mania was genuine. Then there came a dreadful 
 
250 MU8. TREGASKISS. 
 
 moment when that excitement palled, and I saw another 
 excitement, — straight in front of me, — one I'd never had be- 
 fore. I saw that the granite was softening — that he was 
 beginning to care for me. I thought I should like to 
 know what it felt like to be loved by such a man. I 
 wanted — this is all I have got to put forward in extenua- 
 tion here — I wanted to be made to care for him. ; to be 
 strung up to some lieroic endeavour, even to renunciation. 
 I knew that was what love must mean — for me. I was 
 never a- wicked woman in that sense." 
 
 " You need not tell me that ! " he exclaimed hoarsely. 
 
 " Well, I told myself that a real affection, a real interest, 
 would be my salvation. I wanted to believe in his aims 
 and to help him in them — to do some work and, anyhow, 
 devote some of my superfluous cash to the relief of those 
 
 wretched, starving creatures You remember that 
 
 sti'ike winter? But when I saw that he was fighting 
 against my influence, steeling himself and keeping away 
 from me, the devil took me in possession and I longed to 
 win the battle. I determined that I would conquer and 
 that he should own himself beaten. That was just before 
 we took Felmarshes." 
 
 Blanchard bowed his head. 
 
 " Well — you know — I heard you preach. I saw your 
 face so worn and so ' lifted ' — I don't know how to ex- 
 press it. You've lost that look a good deal. It moved 
 me ; it was a Savonarola look. I got that sort of feeling 
 about you, that you would be the person to go to in trouble. 
 And then you came and dined with us. We had a lot of 
 people, do you remember ? — the racing set. I was so 
 ashamed of them. And we went to the Manor. And then 
 there was the fever in the village, and you seemed to 
 want to fling away your life in looking after the poor 
 people. Do you remember that autumn ? " 
 
 " Don't let us speak of it," he replied with emotion. " I 
 remember it all too well. I remember j-our wonderful 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 251 
 
 courage during tliat fever time — your generosity and de- 
 votion, and how you seemed to be trying to show me that 
 under the frivolous mask, and amid all the luxury and 
 thoughtless selfishness of life in that palace on the hill, there 
 was the stuff of which ideals are made. I was wrong in 
 saying that it was entirely Ironside who influenced me at 
 that crisis in my life. You influenced me greatly, too. 
 Your words and ways, and the trust you placed in me, un- 
 deserved as it was, forced me to be true to the highest 
 standard I knew, that of sincerity." 
 
 " And you preached that sermon — that wonderful ser- 
 mon which was like a bomb in the peaceful household. 
 And you gave up eveiything, and were banished from your 
 inheritance, and went to work among the dockers in 
 London. I have kept all the letters you wrote me then — 
 all that I ever had from you." 
 
 He was visibly moved. 
 
 " I used to think," she went on in a childlike way, " that 
 you were to nie something of what Daniel Deronda was to 
 Gwendolen." 
 
 " Oh, do not say that ! " lie cried. 
 
 " It is true. I leaned on you in the same waj-." 
 
 " I was not in the very least a Daniel Deronda." 
 
 "Oh, you always said the conventional thing about him 
 — that he was a woman's hero, and not flesh and blood. 
 Perhaps that is true, but it did not alter Gwendolen's feel- 
 ing. If Daniel had had reason to believe Gwendolen 
 insincere in her professions toward him, and utterly un- 
 worthy in every way, no doubt he would have acted like a 
 man's man, a flesh and blood person, and he would have 
 run away in anger and disgust, and have left her to her 
 fate, even if there had been no Myra in the case." 
 
 " There was no Myra in the case," said the young man 
 in a stifled voice. 
 
 " No, there was only John Ironside. And when you 
 found out that your Gwendolen had said the same things 
 17 
 
252 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 to Joliii Ironside, almost, as to you ; had appealed to 
 him to teach her, in quite a diiferent way — but you would 
 not have known that ; you would have thought it all just 
 the same, all part of the play, when you found out that 
 she had worked for him among the London poor, as I did 
 for you among the poor near Pelmarshes, and all the time 
 only as a reason for getting into touch with you, only as 
 the lure of a coquette, only to lead up to the thrill of a 
 dramatic situation ! ' Frightfully thrilling, you know,' 
 Hilda "Wangel would say ! But, I forgot, you left England 
 before Ibsen became the fashion. Oh, well ! it was no 
 wonder you thought " 
 
 " That she was preparing the same fate for me." 
 
 " With all the same art and the same guile. Oh, yes, 
 you might have said to yourself : ' One fine day, when the 
 play begins to get wearisome, this double-faced wretch 
 will throw off her mask, and I shall see her as she is in her 
 abominable selfishness and callous greed of power, just as 
 he saw her at the last.' You might very well have expected 
 to find that she had only been amusing herself, playing a 
 sort of game of chess with your sanctities, -which she had 
 talked so finely about, just to make you believe her a 
 simple, innocent creature; and then when she had check- 
 mated you, and the battle held no more interest, sweep- 
 ing them off the board and bidding 3'ou go about your 
 business, and leave her to find a new amusement. Oh, 
 how you would despise her ! How you would hate 
 her ! " 
 
 " No, never that ! " he interrupted. 
 
 " And how you would glory in hurting her — as it was in 
 your power alone to hurt her — with your silent contempt ! 
 When she had humiliated herself, thrown herself at your 
 feet " 
 
 Gladj's' voice was choked. She threw her arms over the 
 back of the seat and buried her face in them; he could see 
 that she shook with inward sobs. 
 
GLADYS PLEADS. 253 
 
 " Not to hurt her," he said, deeply troubled ; " but to 
 save myself." 
 
 " You did not give me credit for any human feeling," 
 she went on presently, lifting her head, but not looking at 
 him. " Did you think me such an unnatural monster that 
 I could bear to know myself the cause of a man killing 
 himself, and not die almost myself with shame and horror 
 and remorse? You don't know how I suffered ! Oh, you 
 don't know how I suffered ! " 
 
 " I can believe it — now." 
 
 " If you had only answered my letter — if you had come 
 to see me just once again, I would have told you." She 
 spoke very low, and her words fell brokenly. " It was you 
 who opened mjj^ eyes — at Felmarshes; you made me want to 
 be good, to strive after the highest — affection. It wasn't 
 that kind of feeling he had for me. He let himself go mad, 
 I think. One idea possessed him. He was the sort of strong 
 man, who, when he gives way, does so utterly, allows him- 
 self to be absorbed, overwhelmed, by one desire. And 
 
 when he can't gratify it Don't you understand? How 
 
 could I foresee that he would want — that. He would have 
 had me give up everything for him, altogether ? He 
 would not believe that I had never cared for him — in that 
 way. No, never, never for one instant. Then I got reck- 
 less, too, and I told him just how it had been — and my bad- 
 ness, and how I had purposely, at the end, led him on. 
 
 And then how knowing you had made me realise I 
 
 said that I would do all I could to blot the remembrance 
 of him out of my life. Then he said things — about you. 
 
 He It drove him wild. He said he would kill you — 
 
 or himself. And the next I heard was that he was dead. 
 And I tried to make you know, and you would not " 
 
 "Ah!" Blanchard cried, "I understand! There was 
 something that was always a mystery, something between 
 him and me, the night he shot himself. I know now." 
 
 Gladys got up and stood before him. 
 
254 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " I have told you, and I have nothing more to say. I 
 came all the way to say this — all the way to Australia. 
 Try not — not to think — so hardly " 
 
 Her words seemed to melt into a sob. She turned 
 swiftly, and was some paces from him before he spoke. 
 
 " Gladys ! " he called, but she would not turn back, 
 and he saw her white form vanishing like a ghost behind 
 the orange trees. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE FIRE. • 
 
 Tbegaskiss was sleeping the heavy sleep of the ine- 
 briate. He had finished up the evening, without the re- 
 straining influence of ladies' society, at the bachelors' 
 quarters ; had come late to his room, and had thrown 
 himself, only half undressed, on the bed outside the cover- 
 lid, beside his sleeping wife. The long journey in the 
 heat, and physical fatigue, had made Clare drowsy. When 
 she awoke, toward the small hours, it was to the sound of 
 the baby's wail, and to that of her husband's stertorous 
 and fume-laden breathing. She had been dreaming a most 
 poetic and tender dream, in which she and Geneste were 
 wandering together by the banks of a broad, blue lake, 
 which she imagined to be Lake Eungella, with heavenly 
 moonlight streaming down upon the waters and a gentle 
 wind ruffling its surface into tiny waves, which threw back 
 opaliue rays from their crests of foam. It was some 
 moments before she could convince herself which was 
 dream, which reality. She drew the baby to her side, 
 hushed and fed it from the bottle placed in readiness, and 
 presently it went to sleep again. 
 
 The night was very warm. She was drowsy still, but 
 the inert form beside her brought nightmare tlioughts. 
 Her observations of the evening evoked suggestions of 
 possible freedom, at which she recoiled, and which, merci- 
 fully, were only suggestions, never taking the form of defin- 
 ite desire. How could she wish for that which, while both 
 lived, was only to be gained through wrong-doing. The 
 ghastly doubt presented itself : Was it, in truth, sin to 
 
 235 
 
256 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 obey nature's ordinance, whether in the higher or lower 
 scale of being — the ordinance that bade the birds of the 
 air choose their mates, and, till the offspring were fledged, 
 at least, be faithful to them ? Their offspring ! Here lay 
 the human responsibility. Clare touched the little soft, 
 sleeping thing beside her, and wondered at the curious, 
 impersonal sort of feeling she had for it, and wondered, 
 too, if she would have felt differently had it been the 
 child of the man she loved. 
 
 She got up and put on her dressing-gown and slippers, 
 and then lay down on the sofa before the open window, 
 gazing out into the velvetty dimness. The sky was very 
 dark. Clouds, those ineffectual storm-clouds, had ob- 
 scured the stars, and the darkness seemed full of curious 
 noises : rustlings, stealthy creepings, insect murmurings, 
 distant cries of curlews and native dogs — sounds that only 
 intensified the loneliness of the summer night. Those 
 same thoughts which bad visited Clare as she had lain 
 awake at Cedar Hill, waiting for her husband's coming, 
 came to her now. In her mind's eye she seemed again to 
 see written in everything nature's law of dual oneness, 
 and in horrid mockery of the eternal pattern, modern 
 man's law of marriage, the copy and the antithesis of it. 
 Why should it be a necessity of evolution, the antago- 
 nism between nature and man? What was the good of 
 revelation and theology and the so-called higher progress, 
 if it only brought about this fundamental discord, upset- 
 ting the whole order and balance of the social universe, 
 which had need but be in harmony with nature for the 
 worst kind of pain to be done away with ? What was 
 the meaning, what the purpose, of so much useless suf- 
 fering ? Did the generality of people suffer in the same 
 manner, or was it that there were certain temperaments 
 originally planned in harmony with the great cosmic 
 chords, to whom dissonance was sheer spiritual agony? 
 
 Clare Tregasklss' poor, tormented soul, torn with love 
 
THE FIRE. 257 
 
 and longing and the upbraidings of conscience, groped help- 
 lessly in a maze of those mysteries which, from the time 
 that the Sphinx propounded her question, have been left 
 unsolved. Had she realised that the capacity to feel such 
 pain, susceptibility to such discord, are the first dawnings 
 on the soul of a higher existence, it is doubtful whether 
 she would have been greatly consoled ; for the doctrine 
 that to love most is to suffer keenest, and that to suffer 
 most keenly is to be liberated soonest from the thrall of 
 fleshly affections, does not appeal to the poor human in his 
 first stage of regeneration. The thrall is dear, the throb 
 of passion sweet, and love, the divine, has its feet on 
 earth, though its head be in heaven. The conflict be- 
 tween soul and sense has ever furnished forth the battle- 
 ground in which saints have been worsted and heroes 
 overcome, and the cup of renunciation, offered though it 
 be by ministering angels, has ever been the most unwel- 
 come to the thirsty heart. 
 
 Clare did not know how long she stayed on the sofa ; 
 she must have fallen asleep, or if not, fancied that she had 
 done so while her eyes drooped, for when siie looked out 
 again the night showed a feeble glow — a glimmer touching 
 the near trees that made her think it must be close on 
 sunrise. The glow deepened, more quickly and less 
 steadily than that of daybreak ; the shiny leaves of the 
 orange trees seemed to quiver in it, and the tall feathers of 
 the bamboos to stand out illuminated as in a transforma- 
 tion scene. Then Clare became alive to a curious faint 
 roaring as of wind rushing afar. Could it be a cyclone ? 
 One heard it a long way off. But there was not that strange 
 brooding, and the feeling as of a world's breath drawn 
 inward, which heralds such a stoi-m. But yet she fancied 
 it had grown hotter, and she fancied, too, that she smelt 
 smoke, like that of twigs burning. 
 
 Suddenly there was a startled clang, the big bell of the 
 workings crashing through the stillness of the night. Then 
 
258 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 came shouts, at first indistinct from distance, then caught 
 up nearer, and now sounding close in the garden and 
 verandas. 
 
 " Fire ! Fire ! The house is on fire ! " 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss darted from the sofa to the open French 
 windows and looked out. White figures were already rush- 
 ing from tlie house ; a tongue of flame leaped through the 
 casement of a room at the end of the wing just beyond her 
 own ; she could hear the crackling and sputtering of the 
 woodwork. There were frantic calls coming from differ- 
 ent directions. Mr. Cusack in pajamas ran down the 
 veranda calling wildly for " Men ! Where were the men ! 
 Somebody go and call up the men ! " Presently came the 
 tramp of the specials, and of the gentlemen who slept at 
 the bachelors' quarters, the house being given up to the 
 Cusack family and their married and lady visitors. 
 
 Clare ran back to her room and seized the baby from its 
 cot. Tregaskiss slept on; she shook and called him. 
 
 "Keith, get up ! Keith, the house is on fire ! " but to no 
 purpose. Then as she was seizing a heavy jug of bath 
 water to pour it upon him, a hand interposed and Geneste's 
 voice said collectedly : 
 
 " I will get him up. Don't be frightened. You've got 
 baby. Just collect some of your things ; the fire has 
 started close here. There's no danger at all, but I want to 
 get you quietly to the garden. Where is Ning ? " 
 
 " Ning ! " Clare had almost forgotten the child, who had 
 been put with Gladys in a room in the main body of the 
 house. She ran along the veranda, the infant in her arms, 
 meeting, as she went, white-clad figures with terrified faces, 
 too intent upon themselves to take any notice of her. Mrs. 
 Cusack, keeping her self-possession, was directing the 
 removal of furniture, and with her own hands dragged out 
 heavy cabinets and chests of drawers. Helen, very pale, 
 young Gillespie helping her, passed in and out with bundles 
 of books, pictures, and clothes ; Miss Lawford, shrieking 
 
THE FIKE. 259 
 
 hysterically, rushed hither and thither, till Mrs. Cusack 
 sternly bade her not make a fool of herself, but give a hand 
 in the work. Mr. Cusack, like most cowards, losing his 
 head, roared contradictory orders to the band engaged in 
 handing up buckets of water, and in plying the hose laid 
 from the lagoon to which the Brinda Plains garden owed 
 its beauty. Clare gave quick glances at each group and 
 person, but there was no Gladys, no sign of Ning. Her 
 heart began to grow sick for the child. Just then a 
 shower of sparks rose from the back roof of the main 
 building, showing that the fire must have broken out in 
 two places. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss, its awful ! " ejaculated the mis- 
 tress scarcely pausing in her labour. " Those dreadful 
 
 unionists Niiig ! She's with Mrs. Hilditch — the 
 
 spare room at the end." 
 
 Clare's speed quickened at the information. The fire 
 was gaining at the very spot Mrs. Cusack, with a hurried 
 jerk of her head, had indicated. Clare turned an agonised 
 face as she ran. " They are nowhere about. They must 
 be in there. Oh, won't someone come and help me ! " she 
 cried. Steps liurried at her call. Blanchard, who had been 
 in the string of specials with buckets, broke away at sight 
 of Mrs. Cusack's gesture. He looked very white and deter- 
 mined, and all the time that he had been passing buckets 
 his eyes were watching for Gladys, and he could not have 
 waited a moment longer without assuring himself that she 
 was in safety. He snatched up a 'possum rug. 
 
 " I know the room," he said. " I'm coming." 
 
 " She alwaj'8 locks her door," Clare panted. 
 
 " Gladys You must break it in. Oh, make haste ! 
 
 It's Ning, my Ning ! " 
 
 " Put the baby down," cried Blanchard, pressing forward, 
 " you may want your hands. But don't come in unless I 
 call. They're safe, Mrs. Tregaskiss ; the fire hasn't got 
 there yet. Gladys will be safe." 
 
260 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 He said the last words definitely, as tliougli lie took to 
 . himself in that moment the right in all that concerned 
 Gladys, and wished to announce it to the whole world. 
 Nevertheless, smoke was coming out of the crevices of the 
 French window, closed tightly. Gladys had a foolish 
 terror of the wide-open doors and windows of the bush. 
 She was not afraid of burglars or black fellows, but of 
 snakes, and so she always shut everything that gave on the 
 ground. Blanchard dashed himself against a windo\v, 
 Tliere was a shivering of glass, a shattering of woodwork, 
 and a little figure in a white nightgown, holding a black 
 doll to its breast, darted out of the smoke and clutched at 
 Clare's skirt. 
 
 "Oh, mummy, mine plenty frightened ! Mine think it 
 debil-debil come along a big fire. Mine call out plenty 
 loud. Ba'al any good. Gladys altogether asleep." 
 
 Clare gathered the small creature to her bosom. " Oh, 
 Ning, my Ning ! " she cried, half sobbing. The mother 
 instinct, roused to a fierceness which she could hardly have 
 believed possible, vindicated nature in having made her a 
 woman. She felt an agony of tenderness and of remorse 
 for the black tlioughts which had haunted her morbid 
 hours. The emotion so filled her, that with Ning in her 
 arms she forgot for an instant that Gladys was in danger. 
 
 Only for an instant. She put the child away, bidding 
 her take care of baby over there on the grass, and leaped 
 into the stifling smoke, to be confronted by Blanchard 
 bearing Gladys' inanimate form from which the opossum 
 rug trailed. 
 
 " Go back," he said ; " it's all right, but the curtains 
 were catching. She is not burned, but she must have air — 
 and water, please, from somewhere." 
 
 Clare flew again. When she came back with water from 
 one of the bedrooms, Geneste liad joined her, and Tregas- 
 kiss behind him, wakened and sobered into complete pos- 
 session of his senses, was calling frantically : " Picka- 
 
THE FIRE. 261 
 
 ninny ! Pickaninny ! Ob, where's daddy's Pickaninny ! 
 Oh ! "—at sight of the cliild— " thank God she's all 
 right ! " 
 
 He cavried off Ning, lifting up the baby also, which was 
 crowing with glee at the sight of the flames. Clare saw 
 him, with the two children, moving away, all three rejoicing, 
 and a sudden revulsion of feeling seized her — a terrified sense 
 of incongruity and unnaturalness and an immense desolation. 
 She stood, as it were, the outcast thrust out by her wrongful 
 love from the family bond ; her maternal impulse recoiling 
 upon herself and reacting in passionate revolt from ties 
 which divided her very being against itself. And here by 
 her side was the man she loved, gazing at her with a fervid 
 yearning which would no longer be kept within the re- 
 straints she had imposed. Ail her resolve, her heroism of 
 reserve, melted and vanished in the wild confusion of 
 advancing flames, and of the alarm and excitement that 
 surrounded them. They two seemed to stand alone, their 
 world unharmed, wliile the conventional world was being de- 
 stroyed before their eyes. A rafter fell, scattering burning 
 fragments almost at their feet. He flung his arm about her 
 and half dragged, half carried her across the tennis ground 
 to a vine trellis some little distance off. Just then the bell 
 at the workings again clanged out ; there were hoarse 
 shouts ; another shaft of light shooting up down below the 
 lagoon, and a cry repeated among the specials at the pumps : 
 " The woolshed, the woolshed 1 By that's fired too ! " 
 
 Clare clung to Geneste, trembling and sobbing, physi- 
 cally unnerved. She began to shiver, though the air was 
 like the blast of a furnace, and he held her close, soothing 
 her and warming her with his kisses. 
 
 " My dear, my darling ! My poor, poor Clare ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " WE UNDBESTAND BACH OTHER." 
 
 It was a strange scene, tbat upon which the sun rose on 
 the morning after the fire. The house was a wreck, the 
 garden down-trampled and strewn with furniture, piles of 
 bedding, and all kinds of miscellaneous properties ; notli- 
 ing remained of the woolshed but a blackened patch of 
 ground and some heaps of ashes and charred timbers. 
 Fortunately the night had been very still, and the build- 
 ings fairly isolated, so that the flames had not spread. 
 Grimy and exhausted, the men dispersed at last to bathe in 
 the water-hole and change their singed garments. The 
 ladies had gone in the very early hours to the storekeeper's 
 and overseer's cottages, where they lajr down on sofas 
 and spare beds, and by and by dressed and had some tea. 
 Later on, though it was early still, when they were again in 
 the garden of the house — now no more — sorting out their 
 respective belongings, Helen Cusack was interrupted by 
 Geneste. 
 
 " I wanted to propose a plan to you," he said. " I have 
 been talking about it to Mrs. Tregaskiss. Why should 
 j'ou not all come with me to my place to-day and rest 
 there while your father and brothers see after things here, 
 and the unionist scare goes over a bit ? Even if Mrs. 
 Cusack wanted to remain, — and she says she must be on 
 the spot, — wl\y should not you come along with the Tregas- 
 kiss' and Mrs. Hilditch." 
 
 "No, no!" she exclaimed, with what, for Helen, was 
 almost rude abruptness ; " I should prefer to stay with my 
 mother." 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER." 263 
 
 " You have often promised to come," be urged ; " and 
 you can do no good here. This seems such a good oppor- 
 tunity. It would be such a pleasure to have you for my 
 visitor." 
 
 " No ; I should hate it ! " she said, in the same jerky tone. 
 " Please don't ask me." 
 
 He desisted from persuasion, and silently watched her as 
 she gathered some books together and tied them into a 
 bundle. But when she tried to lift the bundle, her hands 
 trembled so that the books fell, scattered. He picked them 
 up and took the bundle from her ; and, as she thanked him, 
 she lifted her face for the first time. She looked so worn 
 and upset that he was genuinely concerned. He insisted 
 upon her drinking some port wine which Mrs. Cusack had 
 given him to administer to the ladies, then upon her going 
 with him out of the steamy sun, and took her to the shelter 
 of that very trellis which had been the scene of his own and 
 Clare's fall from their stronghold of reserve. 
 
 Helen shi-ank visibly, pausing at the entrance. " Oh, no, 
 not there ! " she said. 
 
 He noticed her shrinking and the slight shudder with 
 which she turned away, noticed also that she reddened 
 painfully when she spoke to him, and that she avoided 
 meeting his eyes, as though there were some painful con- 
 sciousness in her mind concerning him. Her manner had 
 been a little strange of late, distant and embarrassed ; and 
 this, the evening before, had been more noticeable than 
 usual. A thought flashed across him. "Was it possible 
 that she had witnessed that reckless exhibition of feeling 
 in the ai'bour ? If so, he could not be surprised that her 
 maidenly instinct of propriety had been outraged, as well as 
 a sentiment dearer still. 
 
 "Why do you not want to go in there?" he asked. 
 
 She did not answer, but moved instead to another 
 creeper-covered summer-house overlooking the tennis court, 
 a spot where thej' often had tea. 
 
264 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 "Wliy?" he persisted. 
 
 " I don't know. I can't tell you. I wasn't tliinking of 
 what I was doing." Her voice was so full of trouble, her 
 confusion and repugnance were so evident, that his suspi- 
 cion was confirmed. " Please don't trouble about me," she 
 went on ; "I am quite well. Please go and look after the 
 others." 
 
 " Not till I have cleared up something with you first. I 
 think I know what you are thinking. Helen," he said very 
 gently, " we have been such good friends, and we decided 
 to be always tlie friends, didn't we, that we were? Yet 
 j'ou seem to me to have avoided speaking to me, as if j'ou 
 disapproved of me, these last few times that we have met ; 
 and now your manner makes me fancy, somehow, that I 
 have done something quite lately to lower me still more in 
 j'our esteem. Tell rae, franklj', if this is so." 
 
 "Yes," she answered boldly, her face crimsoning again, 
 and then getting very pale. Presentl}' she cried impetu- 
 .ouslj' : " It's because we have been such friends. Only — it 
 is not a thing for me to speak about. But I can't see and 
 hear things — though it's without intention, and not — 
 not " 
 
 "I understand," he interrupted quietly. "Last night I 
 was betrayed into the expression of — a feeling which I — 
 to which I had been forbidden to give utterance. And j-ou 
 became aware of — that feeling." 
 
 "Forbidden !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Mine was the fault entirely — from the very first. She 
 is the very best, truest, most loyal woman ; she has been 
 sorely tried. Do you not believe this ? " 
 
 " Of course I believe that she is good. I am very sorry 
 for her. But it's so terrible to — to love a woman who is 
 married." 
 
 " Yes," he assented sadly ; "it is very terrible — especially 
 when her marriage is a miserable one, for then it is so hard 
 to keep silence. I am to blame. I ought to have obeyed 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER." 265 
 
 Ler solemn command. But the circumstances, tbe fire, 
 the confusion, are my excuse. A man's emotions are not 
 always under liis control." Helen's lip curled slightly. 
 " Oil, yes ! I know what you are thinking. If I had not 
 
 been I have no excuse ; you are quite right. But, oh, 
 
 Helen, do you remember something you said to me that 
 first night Mrs. Tregaskiss and I were here together?" 
 
 " I remember — several things. But there is no use in our 
 reminding each other of that night." 
 
 "I want to remind you of one thing in especial, however. 
 Please let me. You asked me, then, to promise you that I 
 would tell you if ever there should be a Guinevere. And 
 you said, — I have thought of your words many times, 
 dear Helen, dear sister Helen, A^ho is only less dear to me 
 than one woman in the world, — you said that in such a case 
 you could only pray for us. Pray for us, then, Helen ; pray 
 for her — that, somehow, good may come into her life, and 
 make it less bitter. The prayer of a pure, true woman for 
 another woman, in need of comfort, should be a force in the 
 spiritual region of things." 
 
 The vibration of deep feeling in his voice moved her 
 intensely, and in a strange and sudden way changed her 
 moral attitude toward him. A moment before she had 
 despised him. He was but a sorry hero. Helen was clear- 
 sighted, in spite of the romantic infatuation with which 
 Geneste had inspired her. At this moment there seemed 
 to her almost pathos in his want of self-control. But 
 women have a knack of loving most the men who, under 
 certain emotional conditions, prove themselves to be poor 
 creatures. They have a grand power, too, of reconstruct- 
 ing their ideal in accordance with masculine weakness and 
 perversity. 
 
 She looked straight into his eyes ; it was her tribute to 
 his sincerity and to a certain right of intention in which 
 she intended to believe. So, at any rate, he interpreted 
 the look. 
 
266 MRS. TREaASKISS. 
 
 " Tliank you," he said humbly. 
 
 " What do you wish me to pray for ? " she asked. 
 " What can I pray for that would be for her good, unless 
 it be that you may leave her and that she may be delivered 
 from an affection that is wrong ? " 
 
 " Have you no faith in a loyal love- friendship ? Do you 
 not trust me ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! How can I tell ? Yes, I trust you. 
 I don't feel as I did a little while ago ; it was so dreadful, 
 thinking it over alone, and all in the dark. But how can 
 I tell ? Dr. Geneste, you ask too hard things of me." 
 
 " I will ask of you nothing, then, except only that you 
 will try as much as you can to believe in me. I don't ask 
 you to believe in her. It would be impossible for you not 
 to do so ; she has all nobleness written on her face. I 
 have respected her wishes, her sense of duty to her chil- 
 dren, to her position, and have done my best to refrain 
 from expression of a feeling that has grown in spite of 
 myself. But sometimes it is difficult. Last night, in the 
 alarm and in her natural agitation, I lost command over 
 myself. But that will never occur again. And why 
 should I leave her if I am strong enough not to offend ? No 
 one could blame me for trying to give such help as I may, 
 in her most unhappy life, such sympatliy as will make her 
 feel her loneliness less keenly. Believe that I honour and 
 care for her too much to wish anything except what is 
 best for her." 
 
 He was conscious himself that the words were evasive 
 of the issue, though he meant them honestly enough. She 
 accepted them, as a young, noble-minded girl naturally 
 would accept such an assurance, and put out her hand 
 with a gesture at once of appeal and confidence. 
 
 " Yes, I will believe that. And I will pray for you, Dr. 
 Geneste, though I am not good or religious, that my 
 prayers would avail anything. Now I have told you, I 
 will try to put out of my head what I saw Ir.st night, and 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER." 267 
 
 at first felt about it. It was the shock and something — 
 something Miss Lawford once said, I am ashamed of my- 
 self for having felt as I did." 
 
 "Thank you," he said again, but he did not look at her. 
 
 " I want to say something to you," Helen went on, in 
 a hurried manner. " I don't wonder at your caring for her. 
 How could you help it ; she is so far above everybody, 
 so different from the others — so different from me." Helen 
 gave a pathetic little smile. " It was just that at first it 
 was a shock ; now I understand. I crept away and cried — 
 and cried. For the moment it was like having one's faith 
 destroyed. And I thouglit of how you had once — once — 
 kissed me." Helen's voice dropped as though she were 
 touching on something saci'ed, and tlien there came a 
 thrill of passion into it. " Dr. Geneste, you oughtn't to 
 have done it ! You ought to liave remembered that I was 
 
 not a child any longer, and that I might mistake " 
 
 She broke off and turned away. 
 
 "I know tliat I ought not to have done it," he answered. 
 " If you could but realise how the remembrance distresses 
 and humiliates me — how unworthy I have felt myself of 
 your goodness to me since. You remember what we 
 talked of — how that closest of all feelings can exist at its 
 best only between a man and woman nearer each other in 
 age than you and I. You will have quite a different feel- 
 ing when your right life-companion comes along. And 
 yet I can't help hoping and thinking that though j'ou may 
 have the very greatest affection for someone else, you will 
 not have a less affection for me. That will prove the 
 truth of what I now say." 
 
 "I shall never at an3' time have a less affection for j'ou," 
 slie answered steadily ; " but I shall never at any time have 
 a greater affection for any other man. Dr. Geneste, I 
 don't know why I shouldn't speak out — especially now, 
 thongli I dare saj'^ it would seem dreadful to most people, 
 and they would be horrified at. my boldness. I can't help 
 IS 
 
268 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 it. I don't seem able to feel about what is true and real — 
 as real as I myself — in tlie sort of way that is described in 
 books, and that girls are generally supposed to feel. I 
 think it is poor and petty to be always guarding one's self 
 and pretending. I want you to know that you will alwaj's 
 be tlie first in the world to me, and if the day should ever 
 come in which you were to say to me : ' Helen, I don't 
 love you as I have loved another woman, whom I can't 
 marry, but j'ou can be of use to me as my little sister, my 
 companion, my servant — will you be either of tliese to 
 me and give up your life for that and teach me to forget ? ' 
 Well," — she made a movement full of womaiily sweet- 
 ness and pride, and her whole face glowed, — "I should 
 answer that I would ask no greater happiness than to 
 devote my life to being of service to you." 
 
 As he looked at- her in all her girlish prettiness, he felt 
 that fate had indeed been lavish in her bounty, and that 
 were there no Clare Tiegaskiss he might be well content 
 to take the worship of this fine, trusting creature, and 
 devote the rest of his life to making her happy. 
 
 " Who knows, Helen," he almost groaned, " who knows 
 that such a day ma^r not come, and then I shall remind 
 you of your words and claim their fulfilment?" 
 
 "Well,- we understand each other," she answered simply. 
 "I am, not afraid because I've put myself in tlie wrong 
 position and made myself into a sort of door-mat for you 
 to walk on. I suppose that's my only way of caring — 
 though it, may be rather a contemptible one." 
 
 "Mj"- dear!" he cried ; "it's a sublime way of caring, 
 and it's just what makes me know that you'll care differ- 
 ently some daj^" 
 
 "Oh, well, we won't argue about that; it doesn't 
 matter. Tliere's only one thing I wouldn't do for you ; 
 and that is something that I knew to be wrong. No, I'm 
 not a bit ashamed of myself. It's all quite beyond that 
 kind of consideration. And then I know you understand. 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND BACH OTHER." 2G9 
 
 No one but you could understand — and Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 I dare say she would know how I feel." 
 
 " Yes ; she would know." 
 
 " You may tell her, if you please, all that I have said to 
 you. I shouldn't mind. It might iftake her more — per- 
 haps more contented with her lot. Sometimes I think that 
 I shall tell her myself, but she always seems so far away, 
 and so cold." 
 
 " Slie is not cold ; she is only unhappy." 
 
 "I know that. Dr. Geneste, tell me, did you have a 
 longing to tear off that still, smooth marble covering, and 
 get at the real woman who was bleeding underneath ? 
 Was it that whicli made you care ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered, in a low voice. " And last night I 
 did see the bleeding woman ; and my heart ached for her, 
 and I wanted to comfort her. Now, do you understand ? " 
 
 "Yes, I understand." 
 
 Tiien he laughed outright. There was to him a touch 
 of comicality in his position between these two woman, 
 who were, both of them, he acknowledged to himself, in 
 their strength so immeasurably above him. And Helen's 
 generosity, her splendid candour, seemed to lift the situa- 
 tion into a sort of sublime farce. 
 
 " Will you come over to Darra ? " he asked abruptly. 
 " Don't, if you would rather not. But I don't see why 
 you should, and it would prove at least that you believe 
 in me." 
 
 Helen showed that she was human, in that she winced 
 again at the suggestion. 
 
 " I don't know. There's so much to do here. We'll see 
 wliat motlier says." 
 
 Young Gillespie came upon the scene. He was almost 
 turning back at the sight of Dr. Geneste with Helen, but 
 changed his mind. 
 
 " Miss Cusack, I've been hunting for you. They want 
 you to come and choose your room in the bachelors' quai'- 
 
2Y0 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 ters. I've fixed up the books and pictures, and things in 
 the one I've been having myself. I think you'd like it ; 
 there's a window looking on the garden !" 
 
 "Poor you ! " said Helen, smiling bravely; " and where 
 are you going ?" 
 
 " Oh, to the overseer's ! No, Geneste has asked me to 
 camp at Darra for a bit, and I've accepted his invitation." 
 
 " It seems to me that we're all going to camp at Darra," 
 said Helen. 
 
 "Miss Lawford and Minnie are going, anyhow," said 
 Gillespie. "I heard it settled with Mrs. Cusack. I'm to 
 drive them over this afternoon ; and Tregaskiss wants to 
 start at the same time, so as to get the cool of the evening. 
 He's in an awful fume about his buggy horses doing two 
 long stages running. He says going by the Carmody's 
 ■will make too long a round." 
 
 Geneste had suggested a slight detour by way of the 
 Carmody's, so that Clare might pay the visit they had 
 spoken about, and he himself have an opportunity of quietly 
 noting how poor Mrs. Carmody was getting on. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right ! I will go and talk to him about it," 
 said Geneste. 
 
 Thejr walked to what had once been the back entrance, 
 where Tregaskiss' buggy was standing, and he himself 
 worrying among the saddle-bags, Gladys' portmanteau, 
 salvage from the fire, and the other miscellaneous packages. 
 
 " These poor brutes will be regularly cooked if I make 
 that round," he was saying. "I've sent Shand back to 
 Mount Wombo, and shall have to drive the buggy myself — 
 .ind I'm pretty considerably heavier than Shand. I don't 
 know how I'm going to manage all these things, and Clare 
 and the ciiildren and half-caste into the bargain." 
 
 " You need not take such a load," said Geneste quietly. 
 " I've got a spare pack-horse, and my black boy can drive 
 it with some of your things. Mrs. Hilditch is riding, and 
 I don't see at all why, if Mrs. Tregaskiss liked, we shouldn't 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER." 271 
 
 cany out part of the original plan, anyhow, and we riders 
 go round by the Carmodys'. If we start pretty soon, we 
 eliall get there for a late breakfast. I'm particularly 
 anxious to see Mrs. Carinody. I hear she is not so well, 
 and I know she wants to meet your wife, who might be a 
 comfort to her. If we settle it so, you needn't set off till 
 the afternoon when the rest go from here." 
 
 The plan suited Tregaskiss very M'ell. He could thus 
 put some of his own baggage in the Brinda Plains buggy 
 and save his horses, and, moreover, he would have the 
 opportunity of driving Miss Lawford. He assented 
 eagerly. But when Geneste approached Mrs. Hilditch 
 with the proposal, she declined. 
 
 " Three is a bad number, and I don't know Mrs. Car- 
 mody, and if she is sick, she won't want to know me. No, 
 I think I'll let you have Clare to yourself, Dr. Geneste, and 
 I'll wait till the afternoon." 
 
 Gladys was not herself. Siie looked quite worn out, 
 there were two red spots on her cheeks, though otherwise 
 she was very pale, and her eyes had an alert, anxious expres- 
 sion. She was wondering what had become of Blanchard, 
 whom she had not seen since his deliverance of her from 
 the burning room. A sudden shyness kept her from ask- 
 ing about him, and she waited on, in the hope that be 
 might appear toward the afternoon. 
 
 Thus it happened that, about nine that morning, Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss and Geneste found themselves riding alone to 
 the Carmodys' station. 
 
 An odd little incident had happened just before their 
 start. Clare was in the spare room at tiie overseer's, put- 
 ting on her habit, when a knock sounded at the door, and 
 Helen Cusack asked if he might come in. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 
 " Mother asked if you would mind taking charge of 
 these," Helen said awkwardly, producing a small packet. 
 "It's some Iceland moss, and there's a bottle of Mr. 
 
272 MRS. TREGASKIS8. 
 
 Gillespie's tasteless cod-liver oil. He doesn't need them 
 now, and mother thought they might help Mrs. Carmody, 
 if yon don't mind." 
 
 " Why, of course not ! I can quite easily manage a 
 bigger parcel ; there are dees for a valise on the off side 
 of my saddle." 
 
 " I think that's all," said Helen. Clare put on her hat 
 and arranged her veil. "It seems strange," said Helen 
 deliberately, but with a break in her voice, " that we should 
 all be going over to stay with Dr. Geneste." 
 
 " Yes." The still woman's hand trembled as she put 
 the pin in her veil. " You are going, then ? " 
 
 " He asked me. Mother thinks I'd better, as Miss 
 Lawford is to be there. He says she can teach the chil- 
 dren just the same, and there's not a quiet place here. He 
 doesn't want us to come back till they are settled in the 
 bachelors' quarters. Mother will have a lot to do." 
 
 " It is a good plan," said Clare. " I wish I could per- 
 suade you to come on to Mount Woinbo witli us. It 
 wouldn't be quite so dull, now that we have Mrs. Hilditch." 
 
 " I shouldn't mind how dull it was. I'd like to come." 
 
 " Tlien come, my dear," said Mrs. Tregaskiss, turning 
 round to her from the glass. 
 
 She was surprised at the expression upon the girl's face. 
 It seemed to her an accusation against herself of dislo}'- 
 alty. " Helen ! " she exclaimed, dropping the gloves and 
 whip she had taken from the table. 
 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss," Helen said hurriedly, " I want to 
 tell you something. I feel mean not to tell you. But I 
 don't see how I can, somehow. Dr. Geneste knows. Will 
 you ask him to tell you what we were talking about this 
 morning ? " 
 
 Clare stood silent for a minute before answering, her 
 brown eyes searching the girl's face. 
 
 " Do you think I had better ask him ? " she said slowly. 
 " There are many things which it is far wiser to leave 
 
"WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER." 273 
 
 unsaid. And," she added, " there are things which it is 
 difficult for a very young girl, with her limited knowledge, 
 to judge justly. We learn, as we grow older and suffer 
 more, that silence is generally the truest sympathy." 
 
 " You must do as you please," answered Helen, in a 
 choked tone, and hurried from the room. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 JtrST A MAN 
 
 I » 
 
 Geneste and Clare liad ridden almost in silence for 
 some miles. The heat was verj^ great, though the sun was 
 not yet high, and- he could not see her face, swathed as it 
 was in her gray veil. She was riding a horse of his, one 
 he had brought with an ulterior view to rides with her, 
 and while tliey were on the plain he mainly occupied him- 
 self in pacing the animal. But by and by they got into 
 the gidia scrub, where there was less glare. 
 
 " I wish you would put up your veil," he said. " I 
 know you are above small vanities ; and, besides, I know, 
 too, that yours is the sort of skin which doesn't sunburn 
 easily." 
 
 She did as he wished; and then he fancied that under 
 the shelter of her veil she had been crying. 
 
 " Don't be sad," he said, in that caressing voice which 
 was his greatest charm with women. " We have got a long 
 day before us, and a delightful ride in the dusk to Darra. 
 Let us try to forget that there is anything in the world to 
 make us unhappj'." 
 
 Slie took no notice of the appeal. 
 
 "I want you to confess sometliing truly to me," she said 
 seriously. " You need not be afraid that I shall be jealous 
 or hurt. Perhaps I am above those small vanities, too. 
 Tell me, did you ever really give Helen Cusack cause to 
 think that you cared for her? " 
 
 " Frankly," he replied, " if it hadn't been for that meet- 
 ing with you at Cedar Hill, and the revelation you gave 
 me of your real self the night we camped by The Grave, 
 
 874 
 
"JUST A MAN!" 275 
 
 I tliink it is more tlian likely I might now be engaged to 
 Helen Cusack. Do you utterly despise me ? " 
 
 " No; wliy should I ? It is what I supposed. But you 
 have not quite trulj' answered my question." 
 
 Geneste hesitated. " Tliere are things," he said, " that 
 a man doesn't readily tell, even to the woman he loves 
 best and trusts most : not so much because they show him 
 in a bad light as because they concern another woman." 
 
 " Helen came to my room this morning and begged me 
 to ask you to tell me what you and she had been say- 
 ing to each other this morning. Does that meet your 
 objection ? " 
 
 " Did she — really ? The girl is extraordinary ; she is 
 tremendous ; she is sublime ! Yes, she said that I might 
 tell you, or that she would tell you herself ; but I did not 
 think she meant it. Clare, I am a beast, an idiot, or per- 
 haps it would be more to the point to say that I am a 
 man ! " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, with a melancholy smile ; and, 
 for the first time applied to himself, he heard a faint 
 intonation of scorn in her voice. " Men never seem to 
 rise, after all, to being much more than men. Well, 
 tell me." 
 
 Then lie told her tlie whole story from the beginning of 
 his attraction toward Helen — the kiss, the revulsion, the 
 compact of friendship, all — up to their strange talk of tliat 
 morning. 
 
 " If I were as noble as she is," said Clare, " I should 
 resolve never to see you again. Tlien j'^ou would in time 
 forget me, and you would, of course, care for her, and 
 you would be very happy." 
 
 " Do you think that is possible, after having loved 
 you ? " He laughed again, almost as he had laughed to 
 Helen. " The whole tiling is whimsical ; it's ridiculous ! " 
 
 " It is cruel ! " exclaimed Clare bitterly. 
 
 " Ah, you don't seem to see what is so clear to me, that 
 
276 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 just tliis wotiderfiil magnanimity and candour proves lier 
 utter incompreliension of love — as we know it. Her feeling 
 forme, poor child ! — and Heaven knows how unworthy I am 
 of it — is a poem, a dream, much the sort of thing that 
 makes a certain type of Roman Catholic girl want to be a 
 nun; it's not flesh and blood, and the wound doesn't bleed. 
 That's my consolation, and that reconciles me to the posi- 
 tion I've put myself into, which would be humiliating 
 enough to one's self in the ordinary way." 
 
 " Do you remember saying tome that night at The Grave 
 that Helen Cusack was one of the women who would know 
 the real thing when it came along ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, I remember. Well, the conception of me as a 
 fatuous fool gets a further justification. Jove must have 
 been in a curiously ironic mood when he portioned out to 
 me such chances of happiness," lie added, after a pause. 
 
 "Why do you call it ironic ?" 
 
 " There's something of the Tantalus touch about the busi- 
 ness, don't you think ?" he said with bitterness. " Mj' con- 
 fession has not raised me in your estimation. I feel that 
 in your whole manner." 
 
 " Perhaps. But I have wronged that poor girl. Be- 
 sides," she added impetuously, "last night has made me 
 realise again how impossible it all is." 
 
 " Clare, have mercy ! " 
 
 " I have mercy — too much mercy on you. But I can 
 have oone on myself. The worst part of the whole thing 
 is — to know you as — a man " 
 
 " Neither saint nor hero," he interjected. "Be it so. I 
 withdraw all pretensions to a superhuman virtue. Well, 
 dear, beautiful, magnificent woman — and I can only wish 
 you were still more woman " 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't say that ! " 
 
 " Why not ? it is true. But I will say nothing that you 
 wish unsaid. Finish yonr sentence." 
 
 "Not now. Those words take the sap out of it." 
 
"JUST A MAN!" 277 
 
 " I insist. Go on ! The Avorst part of the whole thing 
 is — to know me — as just a man — and " 
 
 "And to love you because you are yourself — just your- 
 self — no better than I am ; not so strong as even Ambrose 
 Blanohard." 
 
 " You don't know the story of Ambrose Blanchard and 
 Gladys Hilditch." 
 
 " I can guess it. He left her " 
 
 " For the reason that he did not love her as well as I 
 love you." 
 
 Slie made a gesture full of perplexity and pain. Geneste 
 went on : 
 
 " Well, if he did show superhuman virtue, — putting your 
 construction upon the matter, — he may have Ijis reward 
 now. The next month or two will show whetlierhe chooses 
 to claim it. But don't let us talk of Blancliard and Mrs. 
 Hilditch ; let us talk of ourselves. Do you know, my 
 dearest, a moment ago I was wretched at the idea of hav- 
 ing made you despise me ? Now I am almost glad to have 
 fallen from my pedestal — glad, since I heard those last 
 words of yours. Down on eartli, I'm nearer to you in one 
 sense, anyiiow, and as somebody says somewhere, pedestals 
 are not comfortable places." 
 
 " Dr. Geneste," she said, looking at him with great 
 earnestness, " I am quite serious in what I am going to 
 ask you." 
 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss," he rejoined, " I promise to give your 
 question my most serious attention." 
 
 " Don't jest. I am too wretched to make jokes." 
 
 His wliole manner changed. 
 
 " Clare, my dearest, don't you know that I am ridicu- 
 lously, boyishly happy ? And do you know why ? Be- 
 cause you said that you loved me ; loved me because I 
 am just my own imperfect self — not a saint or a liero. 
 I'm so delighted to get rid of my halo ; it will become you 
 far better. I'll put you on the pedestal now. I'll fall 
 
278 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 down and worship you ; you need not be afraid that I shall 
 fail in one iota of respect for you. Only, why keep up the 
 farce of conventionalities, when there's no part to play, and 
 we are out of earshot of every living creature ? You have 
 never once called me by ray name. Say it, Clare. I want 
 to hear how it sounds from, your lips." 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked perversely. " Yes, I know. 
 
 Guy. Guy Geneste, Guy Livingstone ! Guy What 
 
 was the good heir of Redclyflfe called ? Guy ! I don't like 
 it; it's only fit for a novel or the theatre. That's just it, — 
 what I hate, — what makes me hate myself. Good women 
 don't play parts, and it's true as you said. We have a part 
 to play. But for goodness sake let us keep a spice of 
 originality ! We needn't repeat the hackneyed business : 
 'Call me Edwin, dearest !'" 
 
 " Who is making jokes now ?" 
 
 She had turned her head away; he had known tliat it 
 was to hide her quivering lips, even when she spoke so 
 lightly. Now she looked at him full, and there was a 
 scared expression in her eyes. 
 
 "I'm in deadly earnest; it has all come over me. I've 
 been feeling it these weeks back. But last night, and in the 
 dawn this morning, when I lay awake with baby beside me, 
 and Ning and he were resting on the floor near me, I felt 
 that I was a wicked woman, that I couldn't hold up my head 
 and look straight into the light of day. I felt that way 
 when Helen Cusack came into my room this morning, and 
 I knew that she had found me out, and that she washaviTig 
 a battle with herself, so that she mightn't seem to be 
 shrinking back from me. I felt that I must end it all ; 
 that — last night must never come again ; it was the break- 
 ing of my vow. And that's what I mean. I am going to 
 ask you never to come and see me at Mount Wombo 
 again. Go to Brinda Plains instead, and see Helen 
 Cusack. You can make some excuse ; you can get up a 
 quarrel with my husband — that would be the best way." 
 
"JUST A MAN!" 279 
 
 "Clare, you don't really mean this — and if you do, can 
 you imagine tliat it would be possible for either of us? " 
 
 "Everything is possible when one determines that it 
 shall be so. You could marry Helen Cusack, and I could 
 bear to see you her husband, if we liad both made up our 
 minds to it." 
 
 "Put that notion out of your head entirely," he said, 
 with anger. "Perhaps you would have me take that poor 
 Quixotic child at her word, and lay up a lifetime of misery 
 for her as well as for myself — and for you. Do you think 
 you would be any happier if you condemned me to be 
 miserable ? " 
 
 "I think," she answered slowly, " that we are condemn- 
 ing each other every time we meet to a worse misery than 
 we could have any other way." 
 
 " Clare," he said reproachfully, " you have made me 
 happier than I have ever been in all my life, and I iiad 
 hoped that I was helping you a little. You said so in the 
 beginning." 
 
 " Ah, in the beginning. But we don't seem able to keep 
 at the beginning. It's all a mistake," she went on. "We 
 tliought that we were going to help each other; that we 
 were going to make a new world for each other ; that all 
 tlie hard things were to become easier, and all the bad 
 people better, because we loved each other." 
 
 " And isn't it so ? " he asked tenderlJ^ " The world is 
 much better to me because of your love." 
 
 " You think so just now that we are together and alone. 
 But did you not confess yesterday evening, when we were 
 walking in the garden, that it was torture to be with me 
 before other people — and wretchedness when we were 
 apart?" 
 
 "Yes, that is true. But sometimes we are alone together ; 
 and five minutes of such happiness is worth a good deal of 
 pain." 
 
 " And yet," she went on, " when we are alone together 
 
280 MRS. TRE6ASKIS8. 
 
 you are often tormented by — by the limitations, wliicb, oh, 
 Heaven ! are so easily overstepped." 
 
 " You have said it," he answered. " I am but human. 
 And I love you." 
 
 " Oil, it is a mistake, a terrible mistake ! " she cried pas- 
 sionately. " Our fine theories and our raptures, and all our 
 resolves were only a sort of glamour to cover up the lie. 
 That is what it is ; that is what the world has changed to, — 
 a lie. I am a lie to the neighbours, to myself, to my chil- 
 dren, and to my husband. What does it matter whether he 
 is bad or good ? He is my husband ; and till I knew you, I 
 was true to him in every action of my life, even if I were 
 false in the thoughts of my heart. Now lam false in heart 
 and action too. I am false when I lie down, false when Irise 
 up, false when I hear my little child say her prayers, and 
 she repeats after me, ' God bless father and mother.' 
 Guy, you are free; you have no other claims; j'ou can live 
 your life alone. But have you ever thought what it must 
 mean to me — to go to sleep with one's name on my lips, 
 the thought of one man only in my heart, and the longing 
 that we may be together in my dreams. Then to wake 
 with that one image in my mind; my dearest hope that he 
 may come, or that I may have some word from him that 
 day; to know that all my being is absorbed in him, and 
 to know, too, that I am the wife of another man — wlio is 
 tlie father of my children : to be living under tiiat man's 
 roof, eating his bread, wearing the clothes his money has 
 bought me— never apart from him day or night ? " 
 
 The words rushed out. She did not look at Geneste as 
 she said them, and when she broke off, gave her horse a 
 touch with the whip, and they cantered on for some time 
 in silence. When tliej'^ pulled np, he said very quietly : 
 
 " If you feel it so badly as tiiat, my poor Clare, there 
 are onlj;^ two courses for us to choose from." 
 
 " Two ! " she repeated feverishly. 
 
 "I must do what you say you wish — keep apart from you 
 
"JUST A MANl" 281 
 
 altogether. The best plan would be for me to go away, as 
 I have sometimes thought I might." 
 
 " Right away ! " 
 
 " Yes. Sell Darra-Darra and go home and pick up my 
 old life again." 
 
 He watched her face with an eagerness that was almost 
 cruel, hoping that his words would wound her. He was 
 gratified. She gave an involuntary murmur of pain. 
 
 " Right away ! " she repeated. " Back to England ! and 
 I should stay out here alone on the Leura, desolate ! " 
 
 " It is the only way, if I am to obey your wish. I can- 
 not remain at Darra, within thirty miles of you, and not 
 come to see you. It would be beyond my strength." 
 
 She made an heroic effort. 
 
 "Very well. I think you are right. Go! The other 
 would certainly be difficult for a man — who is — just a 
 man. Yes, you must go back to England." 
 
 They were both silent for a minute or two, riding on 
 under the gidia trees. This noonday stillness seemed 
 awful. Presently he said : " I told you there were two 
 courses. You have never thought of the alternative ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " It is a very simple one ; I consider it a perfectly right- 
 eous one, according to all natural law. Many others of the 
 world's thinkers — far better and wiser people than I — advo- 
 cate it. Why should your whole life, and mine, be sacri- 
 ficed to a mei'e chimera invented by man. The only 
 real marriage is that of hearts and souls? Why should 
 we be apart ? Why should you remain here desolate ? 
 Why should you not come to England with me, and be 
 my dearly cherished wife and companion, as long as our 
 lives last?" 
 
 She drew a deep breath, which was like a gasp. " Be- ■ 
 cause it is impossible," she answered. "How could I be 
 your wife ? " 
 
 " Tregaskiss would be only too ready to take his 
 
282 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 freedom. There would be a divorce, and we should 
 many." 
 
 Again there was a silence. Then she said abruptly : 
 " And my children ? " 
 
 " They are his children. You have often said that you did 
 not love your children as you ought, because they were his." 
 
 " I brought them into tlie world. I gave them life, poor 
 little things ! And they are girls, and will grow up to be 
 women — perhaps women like their mother. And they will 
 have no mother to help them to make a better thing of 
 their life than she has done." 
 
 " You had no mother." 
 
 " If mine had lived, I might not have married Keith 
 Tregaskiss ! " 
 
 Tlie dogs following them started a kangaroo, and Clare's 
 horse, which was fresh, snorted and tried to follow. After 
 a minute or two, it quieted down again. 
 
 " Clare," Geneste said, " I'm not going to talk heroics, 
 or the kind of sentiment whicli, in novels, anyhow, goes 
 with the proposal I've made. I only want you to know 
 that I meant it, and tliat my life is yours, as long as it, or 
 your own, lasts. If it is to be a question between me and 
 the children, just look at the matter this way, too : When 
 your children are grown, they will leave you, and their 
 interests will be apart from yours, and you will be desolate 
 indeed. Your children are your fetters. Well, in nine 
 or ten years, when you are still comparatively a young 
 women, nature will release j^ou from them — unless you go 
 on forging new fetters, as j'ou may do." 
 
 He spoke deliberately ; she gave a shudder. 
 
 " It would be sacrificing a lifetime for a very few years. 
 How shall you feel, when those years are over, if you send 
 me away now? Of course, there is the chance of freedom 
 coming in a different way." 
 
 "Don't!" she interrupted hastily. "Don't speak of 
 that ! I am not so bad as to speculate on death or evil." 
 
"JUST A MAN!" 283 
 
 "I won't say any more ; and there is the Carmodj's' 
 fence. We needn't talk of it; only let the idea dwell in 
 your mind, and shape itself — as a possibilitj^" 
 
 "No, no ! " she cried ; "you must not even think of such 
 a possibility. It is not a possibility; it is absolutely out 
 of the question." 
 
 " Do you wish me then to go away ? I will obey you, if 
 you command it." 
 
 " Not yet. Let us give ourselves a chance of becoming 
 sensible." She smiled a miserable smile, which contradicted 
 the suggestion. " Do what I ask you ; keep away from 
 me, at least for a time." 
 
 " Very well. I will try to do so ; I cannot promise 
 yon that I shall succeed." 
 
 He got o£E his horse as he spoke, to let down the slip-rails 
 of the Carmodys' paddock fence. She passed through ; 
 and then he put them up again, and they cantered toward 
 the head-station. 
 
 Gnnna-Warra, as the place was called, looked ill-con- 
 ditioned and poverty-stricken ; and it was easy to see that 
 as few hands as possible were employed in its workings. 
 The fences were out of repair, the lower part of the garden 
 a wilderness, and the trees which had been " rung," and 
 some of which were felled, had been left still to cumber 
 the ground. , The gidia scrub which surrounded it added 
 to its melancholy appearance. Tiie house, like most station 
 houses, stood upon a slight rise, at the foot of which was 
 a creek, broadening here into several stagnant lilj'-grown 
 lagoons ; the entrance was at the back. 
 
 It had been " killing morning," and a flock of crows 
 and hawks were hanging about the stock-yard, not far off, 
 and making swoops down toward the meat-store veranda, 
 where Mr. Carmody, with his shirt-sleeves tucked up, was 
 salting meat, assisted by a couple of black boys. A tall, 
 prematurely aged girl of eleven or twelve, had just taken 
 away a tin dish full of unappetising morsels to fry for 
 19 
 
284 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 breakfast, wliicli was Tery late that day ; some other chil- 
 dren were playing about the yard, and several black gins 
 were squatted on their hams, nursing pickaninnies and 
 smoking clay pipes, the reward for assistance in carrying 
 down the " cut-up " beast, and there were sundry dogs of 
 the kangaroo and a sort of pariali breed sniffing round. 
 Mr. Carmody came forward, pulling down his shirt-sleeves, 
 and greeted them with subdued geniality. He was a long, 
 thin, disjointed-looking bushman, weather-beaten, unkempt, 
 and with a worried expression. He apologised to Mrs. Tre- 
 gaskiss — she knew what " killing " morning meant, when 
 there weren't many hands going, and he and the black boys 
 had to do the salting between tliem ; but it was pretty 
 near finished, and he'd go up and get the cows milked so 
 as to have some fresh milk for breakfast — only two of 'em, 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss ; this drought is drj'ing up all the milkers. 
 
 " You get on," said Geneste, " and finish up your salt- 
 ing. I'll go and milk the cows. We've come upon you 
 unawares ; but I'm taking Mrs. Tregaskiss over to Darra, — 
 her husband is with the buggy, and is going by the short- 
 cut, — and we both thought it was a good chance of seeing 
 Mrs. Carmody." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad you've come, doctor, though we laughed 
 at your doctoring last time you were over. The missis 
 isn't just the thing. First time since I don't know when. 
 Said she felt lazy this morning, and she hasn't got up yet." 
 
 Geneste looked grave. 
 
 " How has Mrs. Carmody been feeling ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, I don't rightly know. Says there's a sort of 
 numbness down one side of her, and that she couldn't 
 rightly swallow. And she's been having that stupid little 
 congh a good deal, and the pain in her chest." 
 
 Geneste's face became graver still. 
 
 " You'll let me have a look at her to-day, and see what 
 that pain in her chest means? " he said. 
 
 " That's what I want, doctor. I don't believe it's any- 
 
"JUST A MAN I" 285 
 
 tiling, for it goes, and she's all right again. Why, she 
 says herself, if it wasn't for that pain and the sort of 
 chokiness, she'd be the strongest and cheerfullest woman 
 on the Leura. Cheerfullest, she is, anyhow," added Mr. 
 Carmody, with his perplexed little laugh ; " and it isn't a 
 bit like her to give in, though it is only once in a way, and 
 there can't be much amiss, for she was laughing like any- 
 thing a bit ago. But I think I'd just like you to go in 
 and see her before you start on again." 
 
 " Certainly. Shall I go now, or milk the cow first ? " 
 
 " Well, if you didn't mind — the missis always has her 
 glass of fresh milk and dash of rum and egg about ten or 
 eleven o'clock ; and we're awfully behind this morning. 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss, don't you bother about that pack," as 
 Clare was unfastening the package from the dees of her 
 saddle. " Things for my wife, is it ? Well, that's real 
 kind of Mrs. Cusack. Hi, Black Billy, there ! you take it 
 yarraman, belonging Mrs. Tregaskiss. And how's all at 
 Brinda?" 
 
 " I suppose you don't know that we were all burned out 
 last night?" said Clare. And then amid many ejacula- 
 tions on the part of Mr. Carmody, and of the child with 
 the dish of meat, who had stopped to listen, she told the 
 story. Geneste, in the meanwhile, unsaddling and leading 
 the horses to the yard, and then going to the milkers. 
 Mr. Carmody, wiping the salt from his hands, led Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss into a roughly furnished sitting-room, which 
 had, somehow, a forlorn look, as if the mistress had not 
 put things straight that morning — the kerosene lamp un- 
 trimmed, and with a black rim round its bowl of dead fly- 
 ing ants and moths, and Mrs. Carmody's basket of mend- 
 ings on the sewing-machine stand, a half -darned sock hang- 
 ing out of it. 
 
 " We're in a dreadful muck this morning," said Mr. 
 Carmody. " The missis does the tidying — always up first 
 thing, and doing her lamps and cleaning round. Ah, Mrs. 
 
286 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Tregaskiss ! when I see lier at it, and tbink of wliat she 
 was when I married lier, one of the prettiest girls down 
 Sydney way, and used to gaiety and comforts, and Eng- 
 lish ways like the best of them, — not but what you are an 
 example of that, too, — I say to myself that a man has no 
 right to bring a woman out West, unless he's a com- 
 pany's manager, like Cusack, or a millionaire like Cyrus 
 Chance." 
 
 Clare, following Geneste's lead, put the room tidy, and 
 talked to the children, while Carmody went in to prepare 
 his wife for her visitor. By and by he came out and told 
 Clare she might go in, and she'd find Mrs. Carmody quite 
 herself, and wanting to get up and see after things ; but 
 she, Mrs. Tregaskiss, mustn't let her. And he scurried off, 
 enjoining the eldest girl to hurry up in the kitchen. 
 
 " Come in, Mrs. Tregaskiss," said a faint, laughing voice, 
 as Clare knocked at the door. Mrs. Carmody's room looked 
 more dainty and comfortable than the rest of the house, 
 though the floor was only of earth, covered with skins and 
 rugs, and it had no glass windows, only wooden shutters ; 
 but there were pictures hanging on the canvas walls, and 
 the dressing-table was covered with chintz, and there were 
 some cushioned squatters' chairs, and a writing table. 
 Mrs. Carmody was lying in the big bed, supported by pil- 
 lows, with the mosquito-curtains thrown up, the pink 
 glazed calico bows dangling at the head making a spot of 
 colour, and matching Mrs. Carmody's cheeks, flushed with 
 the exertion of getting into a fresh, frilled nightdress. 
 There was, to Clare, something intensely pathetic in this 
 effort of the poor dying woman to be equal to the occasion, 
 for she was dying, there could be no doubt of that, and 
 for a moment Mrs. Tregaskiss' heart stood still with the 
 shock of dismay. But the little pretty thing — though slie 
 was thirty-five, she looked extraordinarily young and 
 charming with her fluffy yellow hair, bright eyes, and 
 spiritualised expression — laughed on : 
 
"JUST A MAN !" 287 
 
 "It's quite absurd for rae to be in bed. But this morn- 
 ing I really felt so tired, and I said to Jem that I thought 
 I'd just take it easy for a bit^ and have the little ones in 
 with me here and amuse them while Jonny was doing my 
 work. Jem says I'd better see Dr. Geneste as he has come 
 over, but I don't see the use, for there's nothing the matter ; 
 except just that I feel queer and numb-like, and this 
 troublesome pain in my chest that comes and goes, and 
 seems to choke me for the moment." 
 
 Clare noticed that her voice changed oddly as she talked ; 
 and then her cough hindered her utterance and she leaned 
 back and gulped as though she were being strangled. The 
 attack went off in a minute or two and she gasped, with a 
 smile : 
 
 " There, it's gone now ! I'm all right again. I dare say 
 Dr. Geneste will tell me of something for it ; and I shall 
 be quite well to-morrow." 
 
 " I think you had better see him, dear Mrs. Carmodj'," 
 said Clare, afraid that her faltering voice might betray her, 
 for she felt extremely anxious. 
 
 "Oh, well, I will then, after you've had breakfast and 
 they've brought me my 'doctor,' as Jem calls the twelve 
 o'clock rum and milk. Are your cows dying, Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss, and drying up, too, from the drought ? It's quite 
 dreadful with us ; we can hardly get enough for the 
 babies," and so on ; and Clare sat by her and listened and 
 assented and told about the fire and praised the looks of 
 the babies, till at last Mr. Carmody, in a clean shirt and 
 coat, and with cleansed hands and arms, pushed open the 
 door and cheerily ushered in Dr. Geneste. 
 
 " All right, doctor ! j'ou can have 3''our way at last, and 
 overhaul the old lady, but don't you go telling me there's 
 anything amiss, for that colour of hers will give you the 
 lie, and I shan't believe you. You doctors always want to 
 make out a case." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 POOE MES. CAEMODT. 
 
 The doctor seemed to be a very long time with the sick 
 woman. When he came out, there was a look upon his 
 face which Mrs. Tregaskiss hoped she miglit never see 
 again. It was strange how, in a moment, he had become an 
 abstraction removed from all personal stress and excite- 
 ment ; not the man, but the physician ; a reflection, as it 
 were, of those mighty human interests beside which indi- 
 vidual emotions sink into nothingness. Clare felt some- 
 thing of this, too. Her drama and liis were absorbed in 
 and annihilated by the thrilling drama of death into which 
 they had been suddenly and startlingly thrown. It was 
 terrible to see Mr. Carmody's unconcern, and absolute uncon- 
 sciousness of impending catastrophe. He sat with Clare 
 in tlie sitting-room, waiting for the doctor, the breakfast 
 table spread, and talked about the Brinda Plains fire, the 
 unionists, the drought, Tregaskiss' bores, never suspect- 
 ing that his own fate and that of his dearest hung upon 
 the examination going on within that closed door. 
 
 " Well, doctor," he said cheerily, when Geneste appeared, 
 "is she going to get up? Have you given her a good 
 scolding for her laziness ? Eh ! Man ! What — what is 
 the matter?" 
 
 Geneste went straight to him. 
 
 " Carmody," he said, in a low voice, deeply moved, 
 " there's no good in blinking things to you, anj^how ; I've 
 got to break bad news. You've heaps of pluck, old fellow, 
 and you'll want it. You've got to bear a shock — the worst 
 a man can have to bear." 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 289 
 
 " Eh ! Wliat — what do you mean ? " stammered Car- 
 raody, frightened and taken aback by Geneste's manner. 
 
 " Your wife is very ill indeed. Very, very ill. Do 
 you understand ? " Carmody was staring stupidly. " She 
 has been bad for a long time ; and neither of you have 
 realised it. Now I am sorry to have to tell you that there 
 is no — there is very great danger." 
 
 " Danger," repeated Carmody, still blankly. 
 
 " Very great danger — imminent danger." 
 
 " But what do you mean, man ? " roared Carmody. " Whj', 
 she was laughing at me a minute ago ! Danger ! You 
 must be dreaming ; you don't know what you are talking 
 about." 
 
 " I wish that I did not. Look here, Carmody; I've got 
 to make it clear to you. I wish to God I could give you 
 any hope, but I can't." 
 
 " Can't — give — me — any — hope ! " repeated poor Car- 
 mody, with a jerk between each word, while he gazed 
 fixedly at the doctor, as though he were fascinated by some 
 horrible sight. Then, " Will you please to tell me," he 
 cried almost angrily, " what is the matter with my Bessy? " 
 
 " Your wife has an aortic aneurism," replied Geneste. 
 "The pain in her chest, which I felt sure could not mean 
 lung mischief, and the little choking congh, and other 
 symptoms, have made me afraid of late months that it might 
 be the case, though the disease is not common with women, 
 especially when comparatively young. That is what made 
 me hesitate to speak of my suspicion ; and you wouldn't 
 hear of ray approaching Mrs. Carmody medically. Now, 
 since I have examined her chest, and have felt the pulsating 
 swelling, I have no doubt ; and I don't know what to say 
 to you or how to advise you about — about " — Geneste's own 
 voice broke — " conveying to her that she may not have 
 long to live." 
 
 " Geneste ! Doctor ! you don't mean — you can't mean 
 that she is dying?" 
 
290 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Geneste, in a low emphatic voice, 
 wliicli shoolc witli pity, " tliat I must tell you she may die 
 at any moment ; she may live a week, a fortnight ; slie 
 may die within tlie next half hour." 
 
 Carmody burst into an hysterical laugh. "And you 
 want me to tell her she is dying ! Do you expect me 
 to believe it ? You don't know your business, doctor ; 
 you're deceived, you're out of practice." 
 
 " Do you think I'd say a thing like that to you if I 
 wasn't sure. Go in, Carmody, put her in a sitting position, 
 and you'll believe me then. I know it's an awful blow. 
 I'm only doing my duty in telling you straight. Go in — 
 there's not much time. Try to be calm. Talk to her. 
 You know her and you know what she would wish, and if 
 she would willingly leave her children — and you, without a 
 word." 
 
 Mr. Carmody sank helplessly upon a chair. " You want 
 me to tell her — that she is dying ; tell her — my poor little 
 Bessy, who was planning only last night how we'd take a 
 trip to Sydney when the bad times were over, and put Jennie 
 
 to school, — my Bessy^ — the pluckiest, cheeriest Tell 
 
 her she is dying ! No, I'm d d if I can do that ! " 
 
 He broke down altogether, and lurching forward, his 
 head on his arms, cried out like a child. 
 
 A voice came from the sick room : " Jem ! " The door 
 was thin and there were wide canvas-covered gaps between 
 the slabs of the wall. The poor ^oraan must have heard 
 that despairing cry. "What is it he says he can't do?" 
 the feeble voice went on ; and just then the two little 
 children, who had run in from the veranda to their mother 
 as soon as the doctor had left her, set up a wail. Geneste 
 looked at Clare. 
 
 " Will j'ou go to her ? I will do what I can with him, 
 poor chap ! " 
 
 Just then Jennie, the eldest girl, came in, followed by 
 a half-caste with the dish of smoking fry. "It's ready, 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 291 
 
 fatlier," she said. " Sliall I take some in to mother?" 
 And then she stood still, her gaze fixed in consternation 
 upon the father, who was sobbing with his head on the 
 luncheon table. Clare took her hand. 
 
 " Jennie, dear," she whispered, "come and take the chil- 
 dren away. The doctor has been telling j'our father that 
 your mother is very ill, and he wants to talk to her." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! " The child's eyes grew rounder, 
 but she said no more. Slie was a wise little creature, and 
 went in with Clare to her mother's room and took out the 
 babies, who were fighting with each other and crying on 
 the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Carmody was half sitting np in bed. Something 
 of tliat look which nurses call " the change " had conie into 
 her face ; the laugh had gone, and the smile had given 
 place to an expression of terror. 
 
 " Take them away, Jennie, out into the veranda ; perhaps 
 I shall want them presently. Mrs. Tregaskiss," she gasped, 
 " tell me — what is it. Wliat has the doctor been saying to 
 Jem? Has he been telling him that I shall never get 
 better? Tell me — you needn't be afraid. I heard him say 
 the word — dying, and I saw it in his face. Am I dying ? " 
 
 Clare's only answer was to take the poor thing in her 
 arms and to put the wan face, with all the pink gone out of 
 it now, against her own. 
 
 "I feel so strange," said Mrs. Carmody. "Lay me 
 down again." She was perfectly calm. After a few min- 
 utes she said : " Poor Jem ! That was him crying. I'm 
 so glad I've been a comfort to him." There was a little 
 pause, filled by Clare in arranging the poor thing more 
 comfortably. on her pile of pillows. There were no medi- 
 cines, there was nothing to give her ; it seemed so unlike 
 most sick rooms, when the sick person is in extremity. 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss," — the bright eyes searched Clare's face 
 through and through, with, as Clare thought later, that 
 sort of prescience which comes sometimes to the dying — 
 
292 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " listen ! I want to say something to you. Once I was 
 nearly leaving Jem and the babies, and going off with an- 
 other man, because I loved him, and he was rich, and I 
 hated the bush. But I didn't, and I am so thankful, now 
 I'm dying, that I didn't. Do you know, it's the first 
 thought that seems to come to me. Oh, it's such a comfort 
 when you're dying to know that you've managed to keep 
 straight, and that you've looked after the children the best 
 way you could." 
 
 Clare went out. The words were like insistent hands 
 knocking at her heart. Poor Mr. Carmody met her, grop- 
 ing his way, it appeared, his eyes nearly blinded with cry- 
 ing. He went in and closed the door. Clare heard a 
 plaintive call, "Jem ! " and then only a stifled murmur as 
 the husband and wife held their last talk together. 
 
 Geneste was sitting in the parlour, waiting till he should 
 be wanted again. There was something terribly grim in 
 tlie look of the spread table, the untasted luncheon, and the 
 dish of fry getting cold and sodden. Clare exchanged a 
 few hurried words with Geneste about Mrs. Carmodj^'s 
 condition, and he confirmed her fear that the end was very 
 close. His solicitude on her own behalf jarred inexpressi- 
 bly upon Clare ; she waved away with impatience his en- 
 treaty that she would eat something, or at least have a 
 drink of the fresh milk from which Mrs. Carmody's " doctor " 
 had been taken. 
 
 " No, no ! " she cried, almost angrily. " How can I eat? 
 How can I think of anything but " 
 
 But She hurried away from him. What she was 
 
 thinking of was that speech of Mrs. Carmody's. "It's 
 such a comfort when j'oii're dying to know that you've 
 managed to keep straight, and that you've looked after the 
 children the best way you could." 
 
 In the veranda Jennie was nursing the youngest child, 
 crying softly on its hair, the two next smallest whining and 
 squabbling at her knee. 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 293 
 
 "Oil, liush, Jake and Katlileen, husli ! " cried poor 
 Jennie. " I can't tell you a story. They want me to tell 
 tliem a story, Mrs. Tregaskiss. Motlier was telling tliem 
 stories when " And Jennie's tears fell. 
 
 "Mother's stories are beautiful," said Jake ; "all about 
 the people who lived with gods and goddesses and got 
 changed into things." 
 
 " I will tell you a story, then, about someone who lived 
 with the gods and goddesses, and whom a wicked goddess 
 tried to change into a pig. It's the story of a king who 
 went sailing and sailing, and got on to strange countries 
 and among very curious people." 
 
 " Oh, I know that," put in Jake contemptuously. " It's 
 only Sinbad and the Old Man of the Sea. There are no 
 gods in that." 
 
 "You don't know my story. It wasn't Sinbad; it was a 
 king, very brave and wise, who went a long, long way from 
 his wife and his son to fight for his friend. And when the 
 war was over, after many years, Ulysses — that was the 
 king's name — took his ships and started to go home. 
 Well, on his way back there was a storm, and the ships 
 were brought to a land where there lived a very wicked 
 and beautiful woman, and she sat spinning in her palace, a 
 web of the most brilliant colours, and watching for some 
 man to come along, that she might pretend to love him 
 and give him to drink of her cup of witch's wine, in which 
 she had mixed all kinds of dreadful herbs and enchantments, 
 so that, when he had drunk, he would forget everything and 
 she would have power to change him into some horrible 
 beast." 
 
 "That's a good story," put in Jake appreciatively. 
 
 " And outside her palace were wild beasts watching, too, 
 while she wove her web. There was a leopard " 
 
 The bedroom door opened with a sharp click, and Mr. 
 Carmody came out. He made a sign to Dr. Geneste to go 
 in, and then called quietly to Jennie and the little ones. 
 
294 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 He told Jennie to go and find ber brotliers, and bring them, 
 because their mother wanted to speak to tliem all ; and 
 tlien, taking the two little ones by the hand, bade them be 
 very good and listen attentively to what motlier said. 
 
 Clare waited in the veranda. Afterward Geneste told 
 her liow it had been ; how Mrs. Carmody had kissed eacli 
 of them, and had told each separately to try and be good 
 and to love the others, and that, tliough she was going out 
 of their siglit, she should always be near watching to see 
 if they obeyed her, and that it would make " mother " 
 very glad and happy to know that they were good. She 
 bade Jennie, in especial, to take care of her father and 
 the little ones, and she bade the boys to tell tlie truth 
 always, and to follow their father in all things. Then, 
 just as she was trying to lift herself that she might kiss 
 tlie baby again, she fell back, and when they looked at lier 
 she was dead. 
 
 Geneste rode on to Darra, before he went sending one 
 of the Gunna-Warra black boys to Brinda Plains with a 
 note to Mrs. Cusack, telling her what had happened, and 
 begging her to find m.eans of communicating with the 
 clergyman at Ilgandah. He felt sure that kind Mrs. 
 Cusack, in spite of her own worries after the fire, would 
 come over to the desolate children, or would, at least, send 
 the wife of the storekeeper or one of the women from tlie 
 workings. He did not spare his horses, and was back 
 again that night, to find tliat his anticipations were justi- 
 fied. Mrs. Cusack was there, and had taken the command 
 of everything. 
 
 It needed just such an energetic, practical person, with 
 abundance of the milk of human kindness for tliose in 
 need, to rouse the bereaved husband, stupefied with the 
 shock of his sudden calamity. Mrs. Cusack made all the 
 arrangements ; got black stuff from the store, and, with 
 the help of Mrs. Tregaskiss and the overseer's wife, rigged 
 out the poor cliildren in mourning. The clergyman from 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 295 
 
 Ilgandah arrived shortly. He was not a resident tliere, 
 but was doing liis half yearly official duty in tlie way of 
 baptisms and marriages. On the tliird day Mrs. Carraody 
 was buried under a clump of gum trees by the creek, on a 
 knoll above floodmark. One of her babies, who had died 
 a few days after its birth, was buried there. It was after 
 that baby's coming that she had begun to get thin and 
 have her worrying little pain and cough — and the place 
 had been a favourite walk of the poor lady's when her 
 day's work was over. She had been used to sit there in 
 the cool of the evening, with her sewing, and tell the 
 children stories. The funeral was very quiet and very 
 pathetic. The overseer's wife and Mrs. Cusack wept bit- 
 terly. Clare Tregaskiss did not cry, but her heart was 
 like lead ; and once, Geneste, who was there, caught a 
 wild, strange look, which she cast out into the gidia forest, 
 and wondered of what she was thinking. She had not 
 allowed him opportunity for a single word of private con- 
 versation. He was tlien even more unhappy than she. 
 He wrote her a long letter, which he got conveyed to her, 
 begging her to forgive him for his proposal, if it had 
 shocked or affronted her ; repeating iiis arguments in 
 sober, matter-of-fact fashion ; asseverating his unaltered 
 devotion, and, in conclusion, promising that he would 
 obey whatever command she choose to put upon him. Her 
 answer was four words only, scribbled upon a sciap of 
 paper, whicii she herself put into his hand after the funeral 
 — " Keep away from me.'' 
 
 Helen Cusack did not come to the funeral, but she sent 
 a beautiful cross of white lilies and maidenhair fern. 
 Tottie and Minnie and Miss Lawford sent one also, and 
 there were many humbler tributes on the coffin, perhaps 
 the most touching of all, the nosegays of native jasmine 
 thrown by Jake and Kathleen, in gathering which Clare 
 had kept them quiet the whole of the previous afternoon. 
 
 It was a sad little family tragedy, but not uncommon in 
 
296 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 the outside districts, vvliere delicate ladies lead the lives of 
 peasant women in a tropical climate, with the enfeebling 
 influence of which, at least, the peasant woman of the 
 northern hemisphere has not to contend. The strong 
 grow patient, resourceful, and hardy ; the weak become 
 patient and resourceful, too ; but, after a time, fall and 
 don't get up again. The stockmen's wives and the work- 
 ing-women, inheriting a strain of endurance in their blood, 
 get on in the out-country fairly well, and may live to see 
 their children's children ; but the refined, fragile ladies 
 will do the work of six slaveys, bear their hardships and 
 their children without a murmur, and fight drought, heat, 
 blight, and fever with indomitable courage for a few 
 years ; then, all of a sudden will develop rapid consump- 
 tion, or some other insidious disease, and die just as their 
 children are getting out of babyhood and the pleasant 
 afternoon of life is coming on them. 
 
 Clare Tregaskiss was immensely affected by the melan- 
 choly incident. It seemed to her a foreshowing of her 
 own fate. It would not be consumption that she would 
 develop, but heart disease. Geneste had warned her. 
 And then where would have been the use of renunciation ? 
 Her little daughters would be as utterly bereft as though 
 she had basely forsaken them for the sake of her own self- 
 ish joy. And what good would Keith get from her sacri- 
 fice ? — what good, in any case, since he had already 
 discovered that she was incapable of making him happy ? 
 Where was the use of anything in this universal crooked- 
 ness — of poor Helen's romantic love for Geneste, of her 
 own ten years' struggle to meet her fate stoically, and to 
 confoi-m herself to her life ? What was the good of hav- 
 ing kept all those years a calm face and a heart unstirred 
 in its depths, if she were to succumb like an undisciplined 
 schoolgirl, her passion and her pain only intensified by the 
 years of repression ? Yet those words of Mrs. Carmody's 
 haunted her, and filled her alternately with a sense of re- 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 297 
 
 movseful guilt and of immense and angry revolt. Should 
 slie, when she was dying, rejoice that she had " managed 
 to keep straight" ? Rather might not the same ghastly 
 doubt, which had occurred to her at Mrs. Carmody's bed- 
 side, embitter her own death throes ? — the doubt that per- 
 haps, if she had not kept straight, poor soul ! but had gone 
 the way of frail womanhood, she would have had, at any 
 rate, her hour of blessedness, and almost certainly a longer 
 time afterward in which to repent, than had been allotted 
 to her for tlie doing of her prosaic duty ? 
 
 Tiie whole Darra-Darra plan was upset, or rather post- 
 poned, by this untoward event. Geneste's Gunna-Warra 
 messenger had met the buggies from Brinda Plains, strik- 
 ing off for the short-cut, and on learning what had occuri'ed, 
 Helen Cusack decided on her own responsibility to turn 
 back, taking Miss Lawford and the children with her. Siie 
 knew that her mother would certainly go on to Gunna- 
 Warra, and guessed that Geneste would remain for the 
 funeral, and that on the whole, visiting Darra was inex- 
 pedient just then. Perhaps Tregaskiss' surly mood was 
 accounted for by this change of programme. He had gone 
 on with Gladys Hilditch, and when Geneste arrived, had 
 expressed himself extremely dissatisfied at his wife's non- 
 appearance. Clare knew quite well how it had been. He 
 had grumbled that he wanted her back at Mount Wombo, 
 and that he wished to get there himself as soon as possible ; 
 there was no knowing what the unionists might be up to ; 
 and now that poor Mrs. Carmody was dead and done for, 
 it wasn't as if she, Clare, could do any good by staying 
 at Gunna-Warra. At anj"- rate, he meant to go on home 
 the next day; and she might do as she pleased. This was 
 the message he sent. 
 
 Geneste said in reply that he should be delighted to 
 escort Mrs. Tregaskiss straight over to Mount Wombo 
 from Gunna-Warra ; they could easily manage it by chang- 
 ing horses at Darra. 
 
298 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Oh, you may escort her to the devil if you like ! " 
 roared Tregaskiss ; " I don't want to interfere with you." 
 
 He pulled himself up a moment later, and blurted out 
 a sort of apology : " The sun had given liim an infernal 
 headaclie ; he didn't know what he was saying." Geneste 
 saw tliat he had been " nipping," — the Leura euphemism, — 
 and turned away in silent and contemptuous acceptance of 
 the apology. 
 
 Gladys Hilditch, who was sitting in the veranda, raised 
 her eyebrows and went on with her book, pretending she 
 had heard nothing. Yet Gladys was sorry for poor Tre- 
 gaskiss. Slie divined, if Geneste did not, something of the 
 conflict of elemental emotions which was waging within 
 him ; it was not Tregaskiss' way to keep his thoughts and 
 feelings to himself, and on the road over he had opened 
 out a little to Gladj'S. She knew that wounded pride, law- 
 less attraction, jealousy, a galling sense of inferiority and 
 of wrong-doing, paternal affection and conjugal impulse, — 
 all the wilder and softer influences, — were contending in 
 tliis untutored breast, and she fancied, correctly enough, 
 that if Clare were to appeal to him in this mood, were to 
 take him cleverly, if indeed it was worth her while to 
 use cleverness, — for, ah, was it worth her while ? Gladys 
 asked herself, — she might discover that Keith's infatua- 
 tion for Miss Lawford, as well as his evil tempers, were 
 all part of a perverted longing for sj'mpathj^ and of a 
 perverted love for herself. 
 
 Tregaskiss caught up Ning, hugging her with savage 
 boisterousness : " That's my Pickaninny ! we two are 
 going to stick together, anyhow, aren't we. Pickaninny? 
 Mummy can go her own way ; it's dad that Ningie holds on 
 by ; she's a fine plucky one, this Pickaninny, and daddy will 
 teach her to beat them all on horseback before she's six 
 months older." 
 
 " Daddy," said Ning, seizing her opportunity, " mummy 
 wouldn't let me ride toBrinda; and mummy says I mustn't 
 
POOR MRS. CARMODY. 299 
 
 go when we have the picnic to Lake Eungella. Mummy 
 says tliat wild blacks sit down Eungella. That mum kill 
 Ningie. Mine think it mummy say that because she no 
 want Niiigie to go. Poor Ning!" and the cliild put on 
 her appealing face. "Plenty that fellow want to goto 
 Lake Eungella. Ning no frightened of Myall blacks. 
 That all gammon — no blacks ; only fairies and princes 
 and nice people. Daddy said so. Do, promise ! please, 
 daddy, promise tliat Ning shall ride to Lake Eungella." 
 
 " All right, by Jove ! Daddy promises. Ning shall ride 
 to Lake Eungella, whether mummy agrees or not — though," 
 he added, " there isn't much prospect of that picnic com- 
 ing off yet awhile, I fancy." 
 
 " Ning," said Mrs. Hilditch later, "you are your father's 
 child." 
 
 " Yes," averred Ning placidly', " I daddy's Pickaninny." 
 
 "Niiig, you are a humbug ; you are a time-server ; you 
 are a traitress ; and listen to this : we are not going to 
 Lake Eungella." 
 
 Whereupon Ning was silent ; and for some few minutes 
 ruminated. Presently she looked up : 
 
 " Auntie Gladys," — that was what she liad been told to 
 call Mrs. Hilditch, — "mine want to ask you something. 
 Plenty mine try to find out." 
 
 " Well, what is it. Pickaninny ? " 
 
 "Aunty Gladys, suppose Ningie go bong, — I mean die," 
 conscientiously corrected Ning, " will there be any yarra- 
 man for me to ride in heaven, or only those two fellow 
 horses that took up Elijah's buggy?" 
 
 Gladys burst into a peal of laughter. 
 
 " You are an imp, Ning — a demon. Go and ask your 
 father." 
 
 As it happened, Mrs. Tregaskiss did not take that long 
 ride under Geneste's escort — he did not, indeed, go back 
 with her at all, to Mount Wombo. Gladys Hilditch begged 
 20 
 
300 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 permission to remain at Darra, instead of accompany- 
 ing Tregaskiss and the children, and after the funeral 
 the party from Gunna-Warra — the clergyman and another 
 of the mourning guests rode with them thus far — found 
 her there, and also Cyrus Chance, whose aid Gladys had 
 by some means invoked. Old Cyrus took both his Fair 
 Ines and the mistress to Mount Wombo on the morrow. 
 
 Geneste remaining at Darra. " You see that I begin 
 to obey you," he whispered to Clare, as they parted. 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss could not imagine how it was that 
 Cyrus Chance, who never visited a neighbour, except on 
 strict business, should on this occasion have taken it into 
 his head to pay a friendlj'' call at Darra. Gladys might 
 have enlightened her, and so might a certain black boy of 
 the camp, where Mrs. Hilditch had been amusing herself for 
 an hour or two the day before. The black boy bought a 
 new set of mole-skins and a red flannel shirt, and got 
 well drunk, on the strength of " that budgery fellow 
 White Mary's" liberality. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE END OF THE STRIKE. 
 
 The great fire at Brinda Plains, in which both the head- 
 station and tlie woolshed, with all the bales of wool ready 
 for carting southward, had been destroyed, created an 
 immense commotion in the district. It had been very 
 cleverly done, so tlie authorities agreed, and there was a 
 good deal of furtive pleasantry at the expense of Mr. 
 Cusack and the specials. The two harmless-looking diggers 
 who had halted to give news of the dispersion of the 
 unionist force liad no doubt themselves been unionists in 
 disguise, and had imposed upon the police by the very 
 staleness of the trick, too obvious to be suspected as a 
 ruse. Of course, they had taken advantage of the relaxa- 
 tion of discipline in the watching, and of the roystering 
 that evening at the bachelors' quarters, which had inclined 
 the specials and gentlemen defenders to a sleep heavier than 
 usual — in order to steal under cover of the moonless night 
 round the head-station and fire it in the two most conve- 
 nient places. Then, when all hands were engaged in 
 battling with that conflagration, the incendiaries had com- 
 pleted their business by starting a second at the woolshed, 
 and had then made away into safe hiding as sJDcedily as 
 they could. 
 
 For three weeks and more after poor Mrs. Carmody's 
 death, nothing was heard in the district but rumours of 
 warlike operations, of pursual, discovery, and arrest, most 
 of which rumours were unfortunately not corroborated. 
 The police scoured the country in all directions ; the 
 
302 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 squatters turned out to assist tliem, and a fresh force of spe- 
 cials was enrolled and sent up. Tiie specials were in these 
 days quite a feature of the neighbourhood ; they did not 
 spend all the time in the saddle. There were off days and 
 days and nights of watching and precaution, so that the 
 smart gray uniforms were to be seen at many a dinner-table, 
 and at many an impromptu dance, while the gray felt hats, 
 picturesquely turned up at one side, became pretty gener- 
 ally adorned witli the black and red cockatoo head feather, 
 which it was the fashion for the Leura young ladies to 
 present to their gallant defenders, whom, however, fate 
 perversely defrauded of any opportunity of proving their 
 valour on a battlefield. 
 
 For the unionists skulked and would not fight. Kelso, 
 tlieir leader, knew the district better than either squatters 
 or soldiers, with the exception, perhaps, of Geneste, and led 
 the pursuing force a devious dance, by dry water-courses, 
 through country which that invincible enemy, thirst, at 
 last compelled them to evacuate. It was to Geneste that 
 the glory of capturing Kelso was due. The old lion roused 
 up, and the ex-explorer did a ride and led a piece of tracking 
 said to be unparalleled in the Australian record of criminal 
 hunts. Then there was a short, sharp tussle with desper- 
 ate men; shots were fired; one of their number killed, and 
 Geneste himself slightly wounded. Finally, Kelso and one 
 or two others of the ringleaders were arrested. The mob 
 listened to terms formulated by a committee of squatters, 
 and peace settled once more on the Leura. It was after 
 Christmas that all this happened, and in the meantime 
 Gladys Hilditch had found plenty of opportunity for 
 acquiring information concerning the labour movement in 
 Australia. But Gladys' interest seemed to have curiously 
 died out since the fire at Brinda Plains. She had got very 
 silent, and spent a good deal of time in dreamy reverie. 
 Sometimes she was a little irritable, and sometimes she 
 looked very sad. 
 
THE END OF THE STRIKE. 303 
 
 There had been a week or two in which she was almost 
 perfectly happy, a sort of after-glow following upon that 
 divine moment when she had awakened in the garden to 
 find herself lying upon Blanchard's arm, with Blanchard's 
 face bent over her in agonised tenderness, and passionate 
 words of love pouring from his lips. He had called her 
 " Gladys," his " dearest," his " love "; had entreated her for- 
 giveness, and in the broken, incoherent sentences, which it 
 was bliss to her to hear, had wiped out the doubt, the pain, 
 and the vain regret of those four years which had passed 
 since Ironside's death put a tragic end to their intimacy. 
 Then she had opened her eyes, and they had met his, and 
 slie knew that he must have read in them all that in her 
 dazed condition she could not speak. The awakening had 
 been so strange she had fancied at first that it was a 
 dream ; then she heard the shouts round her, the sound of 
 falling timber, saw the red glare, realised that she was in 
 her nightdress, drenched with water, and had gone off into 
 peals of hysterical laughter. 
 
 Mrs. Cusack liad come to her, and they carried her into 
 one of the outhouses, and by and by Clare, agitated and 
 hysterical too, had helped her to dress, and by this time 
 the head-station was a smouldering mass, and all the force 
 of the station had collected at the workings in a futile 
 attempt to save the woolshed. Blanchard had gone with 
 the rest, and she had never seen him since. The next day, 
 when everything was over and the Cusacks were mourn- 
 fully taking stock of the ruins, she was told, just before the 
 start to Darra, that he had hurt himself in trying to save 
 some horses confined in a shed at the back of the wool- 
 shed. It was nothing serious, Geneste had pronounced, but 
 be had been ordered to keep quiet, and the order remained 
 in force till Tregaskiss and the Brinda buggy had set off, 
 the last having been delayed. Gladys had bitter suspicion 
 later that he had wished to avoid her, but it was not till 
 the strike was over, and there was nothing to hinder him 
 
304 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 from riding over to Mount Wombo, that she acknowledged 
 to herself the suspicion. 
 
 In the excitement and scurrying about the country after 
 the fire, personal drama seemed pretty much at a standstill. 
 Tregaskiss went out with the specials, — his physical courage 
 was his best point, — and it was probably to his daring and 
 animal vigour that he owed such influence as he possessed 
 over a certain type of woman. After the fire he was 
 away from Mount Wombo, off and on, for some time, Mr. 
 Hansen being recalled from the' out-station, and Shand 
 taking charge. Station work was put aside everywhere 
 just now. The district liad not got over the effects of the 
 strike ; the Cusack family was occupied in mourning its 
 losses and in plans for rebuilding. Mr. Cusack's anger 
 expending itself in frenzied trips to the Ilgandah police 
 station, and in the direction of his " free " labour men, 
 whom he employed in collecting building material, while 
 Mrs. Cusack, with lier characteristic energy, set to work 
 remodelling tlie bachelors' quarters as a temporary resi- 
 dence, the young men liaving established themselves in 
 some of the huts. In all these weeks, Geneste had rigor- 
 ouslj' abstained from seeing Clare. She heard of his doings, 
 of his part in the capture of Kelso, his accident, which like 
 most casualities gained in tlie reporting, and she suffered 
 untold agonies of anxiety, and of longing to see him and 
 assure herself that all was well. She had not expected that 
 he would accept her prohibition so literally ; she had 
 fancied that at least he would write ; that he would implore 
 her to reconsider her decision; that he would express regret 
 for that mad proposition of flight, and renew his vows of 
 platonic friendship. She hoped in spite of herself that he 
 would disobey her, — for he had made no definite promise, — 
 and one day appear at Mount Wombo. He did not write ; 
 he did not come. The days dragged on, and perhaps it 
 was well for her, and for Gladys, too, that there was work 
 to be done, and that life was full just now of minor priva- 
 
THE END OF THE STRIKE. 305 
 
 tions. The mosquitoes swarmed, milk began to fail, there 
 was no butter. Even the Chinaman found a difficulty in 
 keeping his gavden watered, and in producing the melons 
 and pumpkins which made dinner not an empty mockery. 
 The baby got a skin eruption, and was cross with her first 
 tooth, and Gladys was flagging in spirits and did not now 
 extol the picturesqueness of the Leura. No one came 
 to Mount Wombo, except once the objectionable Mr. 
 Micklethwaite on his way back from that very droving 
 trip which had brought him near Mrs. Tregaskiss at The 
 Grave. Clare made some whimsical reflections upon work- 
 ings of coincidence and of the law of causes in the spiritual 
 region. But for that ill-bred speech of Micklethwaite's 
 she might never have betrayed her secret misery to 
 Geneste. The hour would have passed, and he might, as 
 even he had said the other day, be now Helen's promised 
 husband. She was tormented in these weeks of apparent 
 desertion by jealousy of Helen, which she felt to be ignoble. 
 She fancied that Geneste had ceased to love her, and that 
 his errant fancy had returned to Helen. Poor woman ! 
 she found no comfort in despising him. 
 
 She had told herself that it was not likely he should 
 think so much of her while the district was perturbed by 
 the strikers ; but now that scare was over, all the squatters 
 had settled down to their ordinary avocations, and it miglit 
 be supposed that he too had resumed his former interests. 
 She did not suspect him of a deliberate scheme to test his 
 influence, based upon scientific and philosophic observation 
 of woman's nature. 
 
 If this were so, he miscalculated his strength, though it 
 would be truer to assume that he was actuated by motives 
 less unworthy than any such cold-blooded, selfish design, 
 and that he manfully struggled against an ever present 
 temptation. 
 
 Even when temptation became opportunity, he strug- 
 gled still. It presented itself in the shape of a letter from 
 
306 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Mrs. Cusack, begging that she might now take advantage 
 of the proposal lie had made just after the fire and with 
 which Mrs. Carmody's deatii had interfered, and that he 
 would receive the two girls in the schoolroom, Helen, and 
 Miss Lawford for a week or ten days, while the bachelors' 
 quarters was being papered and their rooms had to be 
 vacated. 
 
 The suggestion that Mrs. Tregaskiss and Mrs. Hilditch 
 should be invited to Darra at the same time, came as well 
 from Mrs. Cusack, though on receipt of her letter the 
 temptation had taken shape in his mind. Geneste had 
 ridden over from Dai-ra, in answer to the letter, that he 
 might give a warmer and personal endorsement to the 
 invitation, and they were seated after luncheon in tlie 
 veranda of the bachelors' quarters, which commanded a 
 now melancholy prospect of the back garden and old en- 
 trance to The House, of which the new foundations were 
 rising from its charred ruins. 
 
 "Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Cusack, " it upsets me to look at that. 
 And just think of what my garden and the tennis ground 
 will be, wlien those workmen have done trampling on 
 them. Upon my word ! I could cry for hours over our 
 misfortune, — though of course it's an alleviation that the 
 company bears part of the expense of rebuilding, — if I 
 didn't force myself to think of those poor Carmodys, and 
 to remember that his loss, poor man ! is worse than mine. 
 To be sure, if we hadn't been burned out, they would 
 have been the gainers, for, of course, I'd have had all the 
 children over on a long visit, — I hear they're running quite 
 wild, — and Miss Lawford might have taken Jennie at 
 lessons with Tottie and Minnie." 
 
 " Well, there's room for her, too, at Darra-Darra, Mrs. 
 Cusack, if you like to arrange it so," said Geneste. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," answered Mrs. Cusack uneasily; 
 "I think I'd better not begin, since one doesn't feel cer- 
 tain how long it might last. The truth is. Dr. Geneste," — 
 
THE END OF THE STRIKE. 307 
 
 and she looked round to assure herself tliat the governess 
 and children were out of earshot, and at the same time 
 cast a disapproving glance at Tregaskiss, who, while he 
 smoked and conversed perfunctorily with Helen, was edg- 
 ing toward the "schoolroom end" of the veranda, pre- 
 sumably waiting for the emergence of Miss Lawford and 
 her pupils, — " the truth is," continued Mrs. Ciisack, " that 
 if I saw a decent excuse for sending off Miss Lawford, I 
 should take it. Unluckily, we bound each other to a year's 
 engagement : we tliought, you know, she might find the 
 bush dull — so many of them do. But she has grown so 
 flighty and queer, and so up and down in her spirits, that 
 I don't consider her a good companion for my girls. And 
 I must say," she added severely, " I think a certain gentle- 
 man is much too fond of going home this way from 
 Ilgandah, — which is a great deal further round, — instead of 
 taking the short cut by the surve3'or'8 camp. I'm not 
 one to suppose there's any harm in an innocent flirtation, 
 and Mrs. Tregaskiss herself don't seem to mind it, but 
 still — I don't intend to encourage it. I did hope that Miss 
 Lawford would take up with that old land commissioner, 
 who is quite ' gone ' on her, even now, and he'd make her 
 a very good husband. But it doesn't seem to come to 
 anything, and the way she treats him is a shame. I had 
 to give her a talking to the other day for making game of 
 him, as she does, before everybody." 
 
 Mrs. Cusack rattled on for some time upon the subject of 
 Miss Lawford's delinquencies, then suddenly exclaimed : 
 " He's sure to be making excuses for going over to Darra- 
 Darra while she's there, and I'll tell you what j'ou might 
 do. Dr. Ge.neste. Mrs. Tregaskiss and Mrs. Hilditch were 
 to have stayed with you before : I should feel much 
 more comfortable if you had them now." 
 
 " I don't know that Mrs. Tregaskiss would care to come," 
 said Geneste evasively ; " she is always very busy at 
 home." 
 
308 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " A groat deal too busy. I consider it scandalous the 
 way he keeps her without proper white servants, while he 
 is going in for mining shares and pitching money about at 
 Ilgandah, — I know it for a fact, — and she who, whatever 
 sort of rogue her father might have been, was used to some- 
 thing very diflferent. Don't you agree with me ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss doesn't complain," answered Geneste. 
 
 " No ; I admire her for that. But now, look here. Dr. 
 Geneste ! Wliy shouldn't you get up that Lake Eungella 
 picnic we've been talking about for so long ? Though 
 the weather is hot, one feels it less riding, and it's nice 
 and dry for camping out. Helen is tremendously keen 
 upon it, and so is young Gillespie, and so was Mrs. 
 Ililditch. I think the district ought to try and make Mrs. 
 Hilditch's visit a little more agreeable, — such a pretty 
 woman ! — and if she does lose her money by marrying 
 again, she might save first out of her income, you know. I 
 wish tliere was a chance for my Martin — he's awfully struck, 
 lean tell you. Now, do him a good turn. Dr. Geneste, and 
 get them to come over." 
 
 " Well, I will do my best." 
 
 " That's right. I'm not sure that I shan't try the picnic 
 myself. I don't tliink my riding days are quite over yet. 
 They tell me Lake Eungella is a sight, and j'ou'll never 
 manage the trip if you don't do it now, before the rainy 
 season." 
 
 " Do you think we shall have a rainy season ?" 
 
 "Well, it doesn't look like it — woi"se luck! But one 
 goes on hoping, and when it does come, there '11 be floods, 
 and no mistake. That's the way in Australia, waste or 
 famine. Mr. Cusack says that if the drought doesn't break 
 up, it '11 mefin the ruin of every station with a heavy debt 
 on it. I tell Mr. Blanchard that will be his time to invest." 
 
 " Blanchard had better keep his eye on Darra-Darra, if 
 he is looking out for an investment." 
 
 "Why, I know that Darra-Darra has got nothing of 
 
THE END OF THE STRIKE. 309 
 
 a debt ! You don't mean tliat you are thinking of 
 selling?" 
 
 " It is not 80 very unlikely. I feel as though I ought to 
 go back and have another try at the old country," he re- 
 plied vaguely. 
 
 That was how the report, which reached Clare a few 
 days later, was started. Mrs. Cusack told the people at 
 Briiida that she had it on Geneste's own authority he was 
 going shortly to sell Darra and settle again in England, 
 and Mr. Micklethwaite carried it to Mount Woinbo. 
 
 "Well, what do you think about the picnic ?" continued 
 Mrs. Cusack. " Come over here, Nell, and persuade Dr. 
 Geneste. We all want to be cheered up after the fire and 
 the strike. I don't think she is looking herself, is she, 
 now ? " 
 
 "I am quite well," declared Helen, growing red. 
 
 " Well, my dear, there's no disgrace in it. Now, just go 
 and settle with Mr. Tregaskiss at once, doctor, and then 
 write a note to his wife. You can't get out of it. Martin 
 has set his heart on taking Mrs. Hilditch, and he'll get the 
 picnic np if you don't, and you are bound to have the 
 whole lot of us for a night at Darra-Darra, anyhow. I'll 
 send along a pack-horse with cakes and jam and goodies." 
 
 " Would you like it?" asked Geneste of Helen. 
 
 " Very much, indeed ! " 
 
 " And shall I write to Mrs. Tregaskiss and ask her ? I 
 haven't seen her since poor Mrs. Carmody's funeral." 
 
 " Of course we could not go without her and Mrs. Hil- 
 ditcli," said Helen. 
 
 Tottie and Minnie came out of the schoolroom and 
 were wild with delight at the prospect. Tregaskiss joined 
 in. Of course it was the very time for a sjsree. Every- 
 body had been in the dumps long enough. They'd 
 make a big affair of it — the whole strength of the three 
 stations. It wasn't such a bad riding track, and he knew 
 of a splendid place for a camp. Of course they'd take 
 
310 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 their guns and have some sport witli pelicans. And then, 
 Geneste liad never given a house-warming ; and hei'e was 
 an opportunity for entertaining tlie district before tlie 
 last batch of specials went away. There should be a 
 dance at Darra-Darra. Oh, he'd answer for his wife. Of 
 course she aTid Mrs. Hilditch would be there ; no doubt 
 they'd stay the week, if Geneste liked. Only he must bar- 
 gain for Ning: he had promised the Pickaninny that when- 
 ever that picnic came off slie was to ride to it. By Jove ! 
 she was going to be a magnificent horsewoman, that kiddie. 
 Her mother didn't approve of her being out on the run: 
 said it would spoil her complexion ; make her back crooked 
 — some rot of that sort. He intended that the girl should 
 grow up a sensible, strong woman, and none of your weedy, 
 sickly creatures. Fortunately she had inlierited his consti- 
 tution. He had just broken in a iilly for her — quiet as a 
 spaniel, and paces that lie'd wager Cusack couldn't beat in 
 all his famous breed, and so on. As for himself, he had 
 been planning mustering that end of the run, and would 
 begin next week. He'd be camped close to Darra and 
 would drop in and — jocularly to Minnie — see how they 
 were getting on at lessons. 
 
 Mrs. Cusack interrupted him severely. " Now look 
 here, Mr. Tregaskiss, I think you had much better begin 
 mustering at the other end of your run first, and I dare 
 say Mr. Cusack will lend you a hand or two if you want it. 
 And mind, I'm going over to take command at Darra- 
 Darra, siTice Dr. Geneste hasn't got a lady of his own, and 
 I warn you that I shall decline to receive you unless you 
 bring Mrs. Tregaskiss and Mrs. Hilditch. I don't approve 
 of these gay bachelor outings of yours, and I don't believe 
 in the llgandali business either." 
 
 Geneste did not write at once to Mrs. Tregaskiss. Keith 
 went home that evening and told his wife and Mrs. Hil- 
 ditch that the Cusacks and Geneste were getting np a 
 picnic to Lake Eungella, and two days later one of the 
 
THE END OP THE STRIKE. 311 
 
 Ciisack boys arrived with the same intelligence, supple- 
 mented by that additional piece of news about Geneste's 
 contemplated abandonment of the Lenra. 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss received it impassively, but she made 
 an excuse presently to leave the veranda where they were 
 all sitting. 
 
 " What has become of Mr. Blanohard ? " asked Mrs. 
 Hilditch irrelevantly, as soon as she and Martin were 
 alone. "Why doesn't he come over here?" 
 
 " 01), tlie bishop ? He's in the dumps — like the rest of 
 us. We all hate being turned out of quarters ; and we 
 are cursing the unionists all day and all night, — mostly 
 night, when we are camping out looking for timber for the 
 new woolshed, and the mosquitoes have got their nippers 
 into us. My word, Mrs. Hilditch ! you should feel the 
 mosquitoes' nips out by Brigalow Creek." 
 
 " I feel them quite enough here, thank you," replied 
 Gladys. "I'm beginning to get very tired of the Leura, 
 Mr. Martin, and you may tell Mr. Blanchard so. I shall 
 go back to England unless you do something at once to 
 amuse me; you may tell Mr. Blanchard that, too." 
 
 "Oh, but there's the picnic!" blurted Martin; "and 
 Geneste has half promised that we may have a dance 
 before the specials leave altogether, and you'll come to 
 that, Mrs. Hilditch ? " 
 
 " Dr. Geneste hasn't asked us yet ; I presume that he 
 intends to. Nobody except Mr. Chance has been near us 
 for ages. Never in ray life have I been so neglected. 
 I'm obliged to feed my vanity on the compliments I get 
 from the blacks' camp ; you know, Mr. Martin, ' Budgery 
 White Mary, that fellow ! ' becomes monotonous after 
 you have heard it a good many times. Suppose you were 
 to try now and give me a change." 
 
 Poor Martin got very red and rubbed his forehead with his 
 silk pocket-handkerchief, becoming more confused still when 
 he perceived that half of it had been torn off for crackers. 
 
312 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " I wish j'ou'd teach me how to make crackers,'' said 
 Gladys. " And look liere, Mr. Martin, I want you to take 
 a message from me to Mr. Blanchard. Tell liim tliat I 
 particularly wish to see him before I go back to England. 
 Tell him that I shall expect to meet him at Dr. Geneste's 
 picnic. Tell him that I want to ask him what he would 
 like me to say to his people about him. Do you undei-- 
 stand?" 
 
 " Yes. I say, Mrs. Hilditch, is it true that Blanchard's 
 relations are great swells ; and that they've cut him be- 
 cause he got into a mess or something ? I shouldn't have 
 thought he was the sort of chap to get into a mess. His 
 cobra is cliock full of notions about what is right to do 
 and what isn't. Perhaps you don't know that cobra is 
 blacks' language for skull, do you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. Ning taught me that, and I've been learn- 
 ing at the camp. Now, go on." 
 
 "Well, is it true?" 
 
 " Whether his relations are swells ? Yes, I suppose 
 you'd call them swells. His cousin is Lord Somebody, 
 and, as he has no children, the chances are Mr. Blanchard 
 may be Lord Somebody, too, some day." 
 
 "Oh, I say !" 
 
 " You won't chaff him so much, now. I did think Aus- 
 tralians were above that sort of snobbishness, but you're 
 as bad as the worst of us over there." 
 
 Martin looked abashed. " You seem to get huffy if I ask 
 you anything about Blanchard, so I won't talk about him." 
 
 " No, don't ! Yes, do ! Tell me what you do when you 
 are camping out. Is he good company ? " 
 
 "First rate," rejoined Martin, "when the mater is not 
 by to chaff him ; it's the mater and the old man who are 
 worst at it, and he always dries up when they're by. But 
 you'd really be surprised at the lot Blanchard has got in 
 his cobra." 
 
 " Should I ?" said Gladys sarcastically. 
 
THE ENB OF THE STRIKE. 315 
 
 " My word, yes ! He lets you know he's about when it's 
 a case of doing anything solid, or getting the rights off a 
 cliap. You sliould have heard him taking a rise out of 
 Tummeril, the government geologist." 
 
 " That must have been very interesting ; I should like to 
 hear about that." 
 
 " Old Tummeril was out prospecting, and he picked up 
 a bit of burnt earth — the stuff you know that cakes up in 
 a hollow tree after the blacks have set fire to it. 'That's 
 volcanic lava,' says Tummeril. ' No,' says the bishop,^ 
 ' it's burnt stump.' ' What do you know about it ? ' 
 says Tummeril. 'I tell you it's volcanic lava.' 'Burnt 
 stump,' says the bishop, and he stuck to it, and burnt 
 Btuinp it proved to be. Old Tummeril looked green, I can 
 tell you. These geologist fellows seem to know precious 
 little about tlieir business," sapiently concluded Martin. 
 
 Then Mrs. Ililditch artfully led the youth on to tell 
 her more anecdotes about Blanchard, and on the whole 
 enjoyed the hour she spent with him on the veranda more 
 than she had enjoyed anything during the last three weeks. 
 And meanwhile, Clare Tregaskiss was stretched upon her 
 bed, the pillow stuffed into her mouth, and her whole 
 frame convulsed with tearless sobs. What was she to do ? 
 How was she to get rid of the pain ? How was she to 
 figiit this awful thing which had taken possession of 
 her ? How was she to separate herself from him ? How 
 was she to conquer this love which was stronger than 
 anj-^thing else in the universe, except two little helpless 
 babes ? Oh, if it were but possible — if only those two 
 small creatures, who dragged at her and held her from 
 him, had no existence, then what bliss to do what he 
 asked of her — to yield up her life into his keeping. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AT DAEEA-DAKEA. 
 
 Genbste's letter of invitation, when Jemmy Rodd 
 brought it, was friendly, and formally cordial, and conveyed 
 little satisfaction to Mrs. Tregaskiss. It had only two 
 sentences of balm : " I hope that you will come. I have 
 been wishing very much that I might go and see you." 
 
 Clare was in the mood for heroism, born of a passionate 
 self-disgust, and her refusal would have been more than 
 probable but for three compelling reasons, outside her own 
 unquenchable longing. Tregaskiss insisted, Gladys in- 
 sisted, and Ning insisted. So, with a guilty joy in her 
 heart, and a great dread, she packed her saddle-bags, — for 
 they were to ride to Darra-Darra in view of the camping- 
 out expedition afterward, — and sent a message to Mrs. 
 Ramm, fortunately still camped between the two stations, 
 begging her to come over and take care of the baby for 
 four days. 
 
 Darra-Darra station ran into the hilly country. The 
 head-station was situated on the very border of the plain, 
 on a sharply projecting knoll, two sides of which sloped 
 gently downward, while the other descended abruptly to 
 the level, presenting a sparsely wooded precipice, and thus 
 giving the place, from a distance, almost the appearance 
 of a fortification. The usual lagoon lay at the foot of this 
 knoll, and grape vines and recently planted fruit trees, as 
 well as some older ones, ran down to it. On a barren 
 patch of the mound, along the cliff, grew several weird- 
 looking, twisted, and blackened grass trees, which Geneste 
 
 314 
 
AT DARRADARRA. 315 
 
 had wisely allowed to remain. The house was low, like all 
 Australian houses, and zinc-roofed, with deep verandas. It 
 consistftd of two buildings, the new stone rooms of which 
 Geneste had boasted, and the original cottage, dilapidated 
 and almost covered with creepers. Besides these, there 
 were the kitchen and the various outbuildings. Behind 
 rose the lowest spurs of the range which bad to be crossed 
 before Eungella Lake could be reached, and in front 
 stretched tlie brown, ocean-like plain. The whole place, 
 from its position, was peculiar and picturesque. 
 
 A number of people on horseback met tlie Tregaskiss 
 party when it was within a mile or two of the station. 
 These were Helen Cusack, — looking fresh and dainty in her 
 holland riding-habit and frilled sunbonnet, — her two sisters, 
 their unbound manes flowing out as they cantered along, 
 Miss Lawford, Martin Cusack, and Geneste. There were 
 the conventional salutations and a mingling oi partiex, in 
 a straggling line, till the paddock slip-rails were passed 
 tlirough ; then a dropping into twos, Martin Cusack and 
 Gladys leading. It was natural that Mrs. Tregaskiss and 
 her host should pair. Ning, on the quiet filly which Tre- 
 gaskiss had broken for her, dragged by her mother's side, 
 more tired with her twenty miles' ride than she would own, 
 and put a slight restraint on the conversation. 
 
 Clare's gray veil was raised, and Geneste scanned her 
 features. 
 
 " You are looking very unwell," he exclaimed. " Have 
 you been fainting again ? Yes ; you need not equivocate. 
 I know that you have." 
 
 " It was not a bad attack. I did not mean to equivocate. 
 The heat upset me, and baby has not been well ; and things 
 have been generally trying." 
 
 " Do you know," he asked abruptly, " that it is just six 
 weeks since Mrs. Carmody's funeral ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Six weeks in which I have not heard your voice or 
 21 ^ 
 
316 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 looked on j'our face, or had a line of your handwriting. 
 It was cruel not to give me a word." 
 
 " You never wrote to me." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I wrote you many letters, but I 
 never sent one of them." 
 
 " All ! Why ? " 
 
 " I was afraid that perhaps I had said in them what 
 might offend you." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I have obeyed you." 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " Surely 'thou shalt praise me to-day, O Caesar ! ' Have 
 you no commendation for me ? " 
 
 " I can't You know " She broke off. " Have 
 
 you — have you seen much of the Cusacks ? " 
 
 " I have been over pretty often. Helen and Miss Law- 
 ford are staying here, while they are doing up the quarters 
 over there ; with Martin coming backward and forward, 
 and Tottie and Minnie to preserve the proprieties." 
 
 Tregaskiss called out to Ning : 
 
 " Pickaninny, there's a log for you ! Come and show 
 Miss Lawford how I have tanght you to jump." 
 
 The child drew back ; Clare and Geneste did not wait. 
 They were now alone. 
 
 " Clare ! " he cried, " you have been very unhappy ? " 
 
 " That is true," she replied. " Why do you torment 
 me ? Why will you not let us be friends ? " 
 
 "I torment you ! Yes, my dear," — his whole manner 
 changed to that winning way which was so sweet to her, — 
 " let us be friends. I think in truth we must have been 
 enemies during these long six weeks — these interminable 
 weeks." 
 
 " Tell me," she asked, " is it true ? I heard through the 
 Cusacks, as a fact, that you are going soon to sell Darra, 
 and leave the Leura." 
 
 " We talked of it, do you not remember ? Under certain 
 
AT DARRA-DARRA. 317 
 
 conditions I think it is move than probable, but I have 
 made no plans." 
 
 "Under certain conditions!" she repeated,_a terrified 
 note in her voice. 
 
 lie, wilfully misinterpreting it, exclaimed : 
 
 " Don't be afraid. I shall ask no more impossibilities ; 
 but," he added in a lower tone, "you must not expect 
 impossibilities from me." 
 
 They reached the entrance, and he became again the 
 courteous host. After tea had been taken in the veranda, 
 and the dusk was falling, and it became a question of 
 allotting rooms to the guests, Geneste turned to Helen, not 
 realising the subtle and intense bitterness there was to 
 Clare in his manner of so doing. 
 
 " You and Mrs. Cusack settled things so that Mrs. Tregas- 
 kiss would be as comfortable as she could be in my bachelor 
 diggings," he said. " Mrs. Cusack has deseited us," and he 
 now looked at Clare. "She said that we should not want 
 a chaperon now you were here ; and she was afraid the 
 men would put up the wrong paper at Brinda. We've had 
 to give up the notion of the ball," he added, as they walked 
 along the veranda; "it was too ambitious, and we were 
 afraid it would prevent the ladies from being fresh for 
 EuMgella. Besides, there were difficulties about music, as I 
 haven't got a piano. However, Martin discovered a fiddle 
 among the free labourers at the workings, and Blanchard 
 is coming over later with the performer in charge ; so 
 perhaps, after all, we may manage a very humble 'hop' 
 for the children." 
 
 He bowed at the door of a room in the stone building 
 and left them. Helen stood back for Mrs. Tregaskiss to 
 enter. 
 
 " Oh, he has given me up his own room ! " Clare said, 
 and her bitterness all went away ; he had reserved this 
 compliment for her, though after all it was the most 
 natural tliinsr in the world. She knew that it must be his 
 
318 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 room from the books and photograpbs and personal belong- 
 ings. Woman-like, she took note of all the little niceties. 
 
 "He would not hear of anything else," answered Helen. 
 " He wanted to give it up to motlier, but she liked best be- 
 ing with me in my room. Mother thought, Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 that you and Mrs. Hilditch and Ning could manage with 
 this little dressing-place, as the place is all rather crowded, 
 and that Mr. Tregaskiss would be more comfortable in the 
 bachelors' quarters witli the other gentlemen." 
 
 Gladys was herself again ; and yet not herself. For tlie 
 first, since her coming among them, she put on a black 
 dress, and it seemed to sober her, and invest her somehow 
 with a certain tragic dignitj^ It was a black dress the 
 like of wliich had never been seen upon the Leura — all soft, 
 dark filrainess and indescribable folds, through which her 
 white neck gleamed, and out of which emerged her bare 
 round arms, with queer-looking bracelets clasping them 
 above the elbow. Beside her. Miss Lawford's costume of 
 net and bugles and crimson satin ribbon looked tawdry, 
 and its wearer vulgar. Ambrose Blanchard watched Mrs. 
 Hilditch as she came along the veranda, her delicate, proud 
 face and golden head rising out of the blackness of her 
 gown, and thought of old Cyrus Chance's name for her — 
 " Fair Ines " ; thought of Felmarshes, and of her beauty 
 and sweetness and passionate disdain of the sordid banal- 
 ities of her life, in those early days, when she had been tlie 
 ideal lady of his dreams. She had seemed to him tlien a 
 being too refined, rare, and exquisite for even the common- 
 place magnificence which surrounded her — a sort of queen 
 who should just, by right of nature, possess everything that 
 gold could buy, and yet despise it, as queens ought to de- 
 spise their material state and appanage. But deprived of 
 the state and appanage, how could she exist? She was 
 poor now, in comparison with her former wealth. After all, 
 five thousand a year is not such a tremendous income, 
 though for a solitary woman it means power to indulge in 
 
AT DARRA-DARRA. 319 
 
 all manner of luxuries. He shuddered as he felt himself 
 assailed by a fiercer temptation than any which had ever 
 visited him. Could he be so selfisli and cowardly as to take 
 advantage of this beautiful Quixotic being, who, some- 
 thing told him, would sacrifice readily for his sake all the 
 advantages of her position, and condemn her to a lifetime 
 of hardship, and probably of disillusion. 
 
 Gladys went straight up to him and held out her hand. 
 She had schooled herself, while she was dressing, to the 
 meeting. 
 
 " You have not given me an opportunity of thanking 
 you for having dragged me out of that dreadful burning 
 room," she said quite conventionally. "I hope Mr. Martin 
 gave you my message." 
 
 " Martin told me you were good enough — that you wanted 
 to see me," he stammered. " I am sorry not to have been 
 able to come over ; but " 
 
 " Blanchard, will you give Mrs. Ililditcli your arm ? " said 
 Geneste, passing on with Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 
 The dinner was a little constrained : the party was not 
 large enough for collective hilarity, or for confidential 
 duologue ; and the conversation was mainly about the 
 •road to Eungella Lake : the chance of rain in the hills 
 having swelled the lake, or of the drought having dried 
 it up, so putting the mirage, which was what everybody 
 wanted to see, out of the question. Of course, too, 
 there was a good deal of talk about the strike, and the 
 rebuilding of The House, and other local topics ; but it 
 was all more or less forced. Almost all present were pre- 
 occupied with their individual anxieties — except, indeed, 
 the tiiree or four bushmen : Martin, Mr. Sliand, and some 
 others, among them a late arrival from the Gulf district, 
 who had wonderful tales about alligators and cannibal 
 blacks and other horrors, to the edification of Ning and 
 the younger Cusack girls. Their end of the table was very 
 cheerful, but at the other, Geneste and Mrs. Tregaskiss 
 
320 MES. TREGASKISS. 
 
 said little, having always the shadow between them of 
 crisis and perhaps tragic separation. Gladys and Mr. 
 Blanchard were oppressed with a sweet and teri-ifying agi- 
 tation, and Helen Cusack, thrilled with something of tlie 
 martyr's enthusiasm of renunciation, was yet nervously 
 eager to avert the declaration which she knew young 
 Gillespie was going to make her, while Tregaskiss, in his 
 rude fasliion, had his own doubts, bewilderments, and 
 emotions of various kinds. In liis breast surged unwonted 
 feelings ; he, too, was suffering the education of pain. He 
 felt anger, jealousy, miserable dissatisfaction with himself 
 and with all the world, restless hunger for he scarcely knew 
 what — his wife's affection or a more potent excitement ; 
 and the reckless resolve to still, at any cost, the vague 
 remorse which was tormenting him. In an odd, intuitive 
 way he divined something in his wife's nature which had 
 never been there before these days — something which was 
 not for him, and had never been for him, and which was 
 worth a million times more than the passive obedience, the 
 half reluctant acceptance of caresses, that represented all the 
 love she had ever given him. It angered him that the best 
 of his own possessions should be but a shadowy possession — 
 a right in name and not in fact ; and though he could not- 
 define his jealousy of Geneste, could not make out to himself 
 any statement of injury, did not suspect his wife of the 
 least dereliction from the path of wifely honour, the con- 
 cionsiiess of a wrong was always with him, and it goaded 
 him to seek sources of distraction, one of which, at any rate, 
 was fairly effectual. In truth, of late intemperance had 
 become so much a habit with poor Keith Tregaskiss, that 
 though he never openly disgraced himself, he was yet never 
 wholly himself. Perhaps Miss Lawford's state of mind 
 would bear an even less close analysis. 
 
 "Will you come and look at my curios and Egyptian 
 things ? " Geneste said to Mrs. Tregaskiss, when dinner was 
 over, and the party had dispersed, some to the garden to 
 
AT DARK AD ARE A. 321 
 
 gatlier loquats and Cape mulbevries ; others to lounge and 
 smoke and chatter about the veranda and steps ; and the 
 children and their traveller from the Gulf to start a game 
 of romps by moonlight. Tlie dance had fallen through, 
 after all. Martin's tiddler Laving been found to have 
 " gone on the spree." 
 
 " I am not very sorry," said Geneste. " I want you all 
 to be as fit as you can be for the ride to-morrow." 
 
 He had taken her into what he called " the ofiice," which 
 was, however, very different from the usual station oflice — 
 a receptacle for stockwhips and guns, and a place in wliich 
 to keep the ledgers. Geneste's oflice was lined with books, 
 and had comfortable armchairs and some prettinesses ; it 
 was, in fact, where he spent most of his time indoors. 
 She looked round it, examining the books and taking stock 
 of everytliing, as a woman does of the place inhabited by 
 the man she cares for. 
 
 He drew a chair forward and arranged the lamp. 
 
 " Sit here, and I'll put the things on this table for you ; 
 there's nothing really to look at, — only a few odds and 
 ends, — and it was -an excuse to bring you away." 
 
 He unlocked some drawers and brought out coins and 
 scarabei and odds and ends, mostly barbaric, from different 
 countries he had visited. She examined the collection 
 almost in silence, and he talked only conventionalities, 
 telling her anecdotes about his little properties and how he 
 had acquired them. Suddenly she swept the whole subject 
 away, as it were, with a wave of her hand, and got up, 
 standing in front of the open door, which gave upon a 
 quiet corner of the garden. The weird-looking grass trees 
 were silhouetted against the sky, and beyond stretched 
 the great shadowy plain. To Clare that vast expanse of 
 dead level meeting the sky was like the wall of a gigantic 
 prison. 
 
 " How can you endure to stay in this awful place," she 
 exclaimed, " when you have the whole world before you to 
 
322 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 choose from, and when you know what's best in it to 
 choose — not like Martin Cusack and Mr. Shand and the 
 others, who let their lives rust out from sheer ignorance ? " 
 
 He had risen and followed her. 
 
 " I have sometimes asked myself that question," he said. 
 
 " Then go," she said passionately, " and let us have done 
 witli this. In good truth, it is too hard for rae to bear. I 
 was better off in the old lonelj'' life than now, when I 
 am tossed, torn, tortured, and self-hating. I think I'd 
 rather be buried alive straight away, and have the stone 
 shut down upon me past all hope, than live on in the agony 
 I've been enduring these last weeks. Oh, if I were in your 
 place I wouldn't bear it either ! No woman is worth all 
 that. See what I am making you suffer now, by my moods 
 and my complaints, but I can't help it ; I can only say to 
 yon, Go ! " 
 
 He came a little closer, and would have answered her 
 recklessly with an embrace, but she made an imperious 
 gesture. 
 
 " No ! Yes, of course, I know that you would saj' : 
 that you are not unhappy as long as we can be together 
 — unless you have changed to me and have taken me at 
 my word and put Helen, in my place, as. Heaven help 
 
 me! I liave been madly fancying of late No, you 
 
 haven't, I know, but it makes no difference. We can't be 
 together ! I daren't let you come near me, and say all the 
 things that are so sweet. I dare not ! I dare not ! that is 
 the truth. And so you had better go. Oh, if I were but 
 a man, and could escape as you might do ! If I could just 
 break from everything and roam, and roam, and never 
 come back again." 
 
 Her voice dropped in a long cadence like the beat of a 
 wild bird's wings, and she made a motion with her arms 
 wliich reminded him of that moment of self-abandonment 
 at The Grave, and touched him with sometliing of her 
 own despair. 
 
AT DARRA-DARRA. 323 
 
 "Clare," he cried, "you talk as if we couldn't help our- 
 selves, as though we were bound by some grim fate to 
 torture ourselves and each other. And it isn't so. The 
 whole tiling rests with you. If you choose you can break 
 away from everything and we will roam — and roam 
 together." 
 
 Again she silenced him by that quick gesture, and he 
 remained waiting, not daring to say more till she should 
 speak, or at least look at him. But she did neither ; only 
 leaned her head wearily against the lintel of the door and 
 looked out, her eyes seeming to pierce througli far-reach- 
 ing vistas, her chin slightly raised, and every feature rav- 
 aged by the spiritual combat within her. He stood 
 watching her, no less moved, but perfectly still. Tiiere 
 was nothing in the attitude of either to rouse suspicion in 
 an observer's mind of anything strained or unusual in 
 their relation, but there was much" in the expression of 
 their faces. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " YOTJ MAKE ME HATE TOTT ! " 
 
 Both Clare and Geneste had forgotten that their posi- 
 tion in the lighted room made tlieni an easy target for 
 observation from the dim garden, or, if the passing thought 
 had occurred to Geiieste ^hen they came in, he dismissed 
 it, remembering how little frequented was that bit "of 
 the garden. As it happened, however, Tregaskiss had 
 strolled hither with his pipe, and that moment came 
 within eye-range of the office door. He had wanted to 
 escape some disagreeable close questioning of the Gulf 
 traveller about a northern gold mine, in which he had 
 been interested to a greater ^extent than he wished people 
 to know, for it had turned out a bubble. Moreover, he 
 had other and more unpleasant matters to ponder, for 
 just before leaving Mount Wombo he had received a letter 
 from the manager of his bank, informing him of the im- 
 pending visit of an inspector to report on the security 
 Mount Wombo now offered for the debt and increasing 
 overdraft. He had been nursing his irritation till it had 
 become smouldering fury, and the scene which he surprised 
 was like a match set to inflammable material. He had 
 been looking for Clare, in order that he might tell her this 
 piece of bad news, and thus vent some of his annoyance, 
 and he had been much displeased at the arrangement 
 which located him among the bachelors, far from her. 
 Now he had found her, but not listless and indifferent, as 
 he had expected, but alive and quivering with some 
 strange and, for the moment to him, incomprehensible 
 emotion. He had never seen the shadow of such a look- 
 
 334 
 
"YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU!" 325 
 
 upon her face before. The light fell full upon her, and 
 he could read every lineament. It seemed to lift her to a 
 region far, far away from the hardships and worries of 
 their common lot. She would not care, he told himself 
 bitterly, if lie were ruined to-morrow — or killed, for tliat 
 matter. She was absorbed by some overmastering feeling, 
 of which he had no knowledge, which had nothing to do 
 with him or her married life. He at this moment was no 
 more to her than the dust she might shake off her feet. 
 What did it mean ? What had liappened to her ? Then 
 he caught sight of Geneste, too, and the whole thing 
 flashed upon him, and in a second he was given the key 
 to much that during all their life together had irked and 
 puzzled him in Clare, and that of late had, in a manner 
 for which he could hardly account, stirred up the brute 
 and the devil in himself. Her stillness, her coldness, her 
 apathy, the queer notions, as he called them, conveyed to 
 him more by her reserve on some topics than by actual 
 words, and which had made him call her " uncanny,"— 
 everything in her that had baffled him and had made him 
 feel, in a dull way, th.at his marriage was an incomplete 
 thing, — seemed to become cleai-f revealed in those two 
 faces. Clare had never cared for liim ; slie had always 
 despised him, and she had only kept silence and pretended 
 to be loyal as long as she despised everybody else on the 
 Leura, since she considered no one worthy of being her 
 confidant. But Geneste was different. From the first he 
 had seen that she was trying to prove to him how supe- 
 rior she was to her husband and to her surroundings — 
 exalting herself at his (Tregaskiss') expense. He had 
 formerly derived a certain satisfaction, mingled with his 
 discontent, at her aloofness. If she were cold and odd at 
 times to him, she was disdainful to everybody else ; and, 
 at any rate, this implied the possession of a superfine arti- 
 cle, of which he was undisputed master and miglit claim 
 all the glcry. But now he realised that he was not Clare's 
 
326 MRS. TREaASKISS. 
 
 undisputed master ; that someone else liad the power to 
 lift her out of her stately, impassive self ; that her whole 
 being was in rebellion against him, and that she held him 
 in contempt, — there was the sting to Tregaskiss, — desijised 
 his manners, his want of intellectualitj', even his physi- 
 cal strength and comeliness ; and sometimes, when he 
 had bragged about her to Geneste, as was a way of his, 
 Candaules' fashion, Geneste no doubt laughed at him in 
 his sleeve. Tregaskiss writhed at the thought, knowing 
 well how Clare felt. Tregaskiss' jealousy was not of the 
 ordinary conjugal kind. In a curious way, he had been 
 pleased that Geneste should admire Clare, should even fall 
 in love with her ; that was a tribute to himself. It was 
 of his power and prestige that he was jealous, and he was 
 more bitter against Clare than against Geneste. Some 
 two-edged remarks that Geneste had incautiously made to 
 him ; certain sayings of the Cusacks and of Miss Lawford, 
 which he had not made much of at the time, but which 
 had festered nevertheless, came back and "strengthened 
 his case against his wife. She was making him the 
 laughing-stock of the district. This was the meaning of 
 all that dangling at Mount Wombo — " sentimentality and 
 rot," as he put it — at the time of her attack of fever, 
 which he had not believed in. Geneste was in love with 
 his wife. No doubt he had told her so. Now Tregaskiss 
 said to himself that he understood the cessation of inti- 
 macy during these last weeks. There was no doubt that 
 Clare had a sentimental fancy for the man, — her face 
 told him that, — but no doubt, too, she had gone into 
 heroics and mounted her virtuous horse and sent him 
 away. That would be like Clare. Slie would do her 
 
 duty, and, he added, in a sort of sotto voce, be "d d 
 
 unpleasant " about it. She was not the woman to go off 
 the rails ; she had not the temperament. Tregaskiss 
 argued upon his own experience of the limitations of her 
 temperament, as husbands who consider their wives be- 
 
"YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU!" 327 
 
 yond temptation are wont to do. It was very curious 
 how, in all his anger and jealousy, he never suspected his 
 wife or Geneste of any serious lapse from rectitude. In- 
 deed, their impeccability, as he believed it, roused more of 
 the wicked feelings in him. In a perverse way, he could 
 have found in their strayings justification for his own 
 deviation from the straight path. In that mood of his he 
 would have been glad — and yet the thought was hell — of 
 a legitimate outlet for all morbid passions that swelled 
 in him. 
 
 But there was nothing — no reasonable excuse for rush- 
 ing in and assaulting Geneste, if he had been so minded. 
 Besides he was a coward, and cowards always prefer to 
 bully a woman. The two stood apart ; they had not even 
 touched hands ; there was nothing to betray them but their 
 faces, hers with that wonderful emotion transfiguring it : 
 passion, longing disgust, unutterable weariness of the very 
 air she breathed, and of the great plain which was her 
 prison — that was how he interpreted it, with a more 
 correct divination than might have been expected of him, 
 and Geneste's, no less full of agitation, and telling of a con- 
 flict which Tregaskiss read, according to his interpretation 
 of things, as the struggle of rebuffed desire. Of course 
 Clare had rebuffed him. Tregaskiss could imagine the 
 pleading and the answer, but the pleading had stirred in 
 her a consonant chord of passion. 
 
 " Infernal puppy ! " muttered Tregaskiss, and yet his 
 distorted notion of revenge fixed itself upon Clare, and 
 not upon the man, with whom, in truth, he had something 
 of the man's sympathy — upon Clare, in whose innocence 
 he nevertheless firmly believed. What right had she to 
 be setting herself up above everybody else — giving herself 
 confounded airs of superiority and sneering at other 
 women who were human ? He remembered a look across 
 the dinner-table — a glance only — which he had intercepted 
 on its way to Miss Lawford. He made a step foi'ward. 
 
328 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 with tbe bald intention of confronting the two, calling her 
 out to him, and proving his ownership. Tlien a change 
 of attitude in the man he was watching arrested bim. 
 Geneste said something to Clare in a low voice, — Tregas- 
 kiss could not bear the words, — and she had turned and bad 
 answered him hurriedly, it seemed entreatingly. And then 
 Geneste bad quietly left her, closing tbe door behind him. 
 
 It was not much of a scene on which to build a tragedy. 
 What bad really happened just then was, as Tregaskiss 
 conjectured, that Geneste bad become aware, somehow, of 
 bis presence in tbe garden, and had begged Clare to return 
 with him to the veranda, and she bad bidden bim leave 
 ber till she could face tbe others more composedly. She 
 moved from tlie window, and stood by the table on which 
 the curios were still spread out. She could hear ber hus- 
 band's step now scrunching the gravel, though she was 
 not certain that it was he. At any rate, she was not going 
 to fly away, like a frightened schoolgirl, and so waited for 
 bim till he had reached tbe log steps that led straight 
 into the garden. Tregaskiss stood there a moment, and 
 took his pipe out of bis mouth, shaking a shower of red 
 ashes to the ground. " I want to speak to you," he said. 
 
 She knew by bis voice that he was not himself, and 
 merely bowed ber head. He stepped into the room beside 
 her. 
 
 " Look here ! " he said ; " I'll not have j'ou whining and 
 complaining about me — making yourself out an injured 
 martyr and me a brute. Do you suppose I can't guess 
 what you've been talking about to Geneste — getting him 
 to pity you ? — we all know what that leads to. He's in love 
 with you — you can't deny it. Very well, if it amuses you, 
 carry on as much as you please, and take the consequences. 
 But don't presume to find fault with me, and don't think 
 that I'm going to be made a fool of and ridden rough-shod 
 over. If you do, you are very much mistaken. Do you 
 hear ? " 
 
"YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU!" 329 
 
 Slie drew herself together with a little sliiver, but did 
 not answer. Her silence goaded on Tregaskiss. 
 
 " Do you hear ? " he repeated. " I have found you out at 
 last. I know how you have been working against me — 
 spoiling my credit in the district. Old Cyrus Chance first 
 — curse him ! Do you fancy he's going to leave you any 
 money for it — and the Cusacks and Geneste ? Just when 
 1 want to raise some money to get me out of a hole, and 
 keep the bank from coming down on me ! And then, set- 
 ting my own child against me ! Telling Ning she's not 
 to do what I want. Forbidding her to go out walking 
 with Miss Lawford, making out that her father's friends 
 aren't good enough for her. Signalling to her to come 
 and stop by you, when she is quite jolly with Miss Law- 
 ford and the rest. You thought I didn't see you ! Oh, I 
 can read you through and through ! I know your under- 
 hand ways. Too mean to say a thing out. But to set 
 the Pickaninny against me ! That is what I won't stand. 
 No, I'm d d if I do ! " 
 
 " I have never done any such thing, Keith, as to set 
 your child against you; and what you say is like madman's 
 talk." 
 
 "You'll tell me I'm drunk, I suppose. That's what you 
 are always insinuating. And you've been telling Geneste 
 the same thing — taking away my character behind my 
 back. Will you swear to me that you've never said a 
 word against me to him ? Come, you daren't 1 You know 
 that I could bring witnesses forward to prove that you've 
 belittled me to the Cusacks. What were you talking about 
 before I came along and saw you both standing here ? 
 Will you swear that you never told him I drank, and was 
 unkind to you ? Come, answer me ! " 
 
 She made no reply. 
 
 " Answer me ! " he cried again. " When I was away 
 that time, and you pretended to be ill, you made out your 
 case. Didn't you, now? I'm a brute, and you are immacu- 
 
330 MRS. TEEGASKISS. 
 
 late. And I took j^ou away from your English comforts 
 and grandeur. Forced you to marry me, eh ! and buried 
 you in this hole of a district, and treat you no better than 
 a black gin — don't give you decent white servants, that's 
 your cry to Mrs. Cusack. Oh, I've heard all about it ! 
 When you know I've offered you a proper nurse scores of 
 times ! You didn't say a word, did you, about your thief 
 of a father ; didn't tell them that I took pity on you when 
 your other lover cast you off, and all your fine friends 
 would have nothing to say to you ? Where would you be 
 now if I hadn't come forward, like the fool I was ? You 
 didn't despise me then, nor the Leura neither. This is your 
 gratitude, and you haven't got a word to say for yourself. 
 You're ashamed to look me in the face ! " 
 
 Still she was silent, but she made a movement as if she 
 would have left the room. He caught her arm. 
 
 " I will have an answer ! By G d, I'll not have dirt 
 
 thrown at me behind my back without punishing you, and 
 knowing the reason why ! " 
 
 " You are hurting me. You insult me ! Keith, don't ! 
 You make me hate you ! " 
 
 " I tliought as much. You've hated me all these years, 
 when I've been sweating to get tilings for you — loading 
 you with kindness. And you've been working against me 
 in the dark. Poisoning the Pickaninny's mind against her 
 father ! The Pickaninny, who's the thing I care for most 
 in the world ! If it wasn't for the Pickaninny, I'd cut the 
 whole concern to-morrow and be happy in my own way, 
 
 and let you go yours and be d d to you. I'm sick of 
 
 it all, I tell j'ou ; sick of your cold, stand-off, contemptuous 
 ways. I'm glad you've spoken out at last. You hate me, 
 do you ? Very well. I hate you, and that's the honest 
 
 truth, and you may go to for all I care ! Get out of 
 
 my sight, you mean, skulking devil ! " 
 
 He loosed his hold on her as he poured forth the evil 
 words. And then, to the disgrace of his manhood, poor, 
 
"YOU MAKE ME HATE YOUl" 331 
 
 mad, half-drunken Tregaskiss lifted his hand and struck his 
 wife. He had lost all control over himself. The propor- 
 tions of things were all clouded and distorted to his 
 inflamed, drink-saturated brain. Never before had he 
 spoken to her in this way, violent as he had sometimes 
 been, and never before had he raised his hand against her. 
 Tlie shock of it seemed for the moment almost more than 
 she could bear. She staggered and turned very white. 
 The blow tingled on her shoulder beneath her thin dress, 
 and made a great red patch under the gauze. He looked 
 at her for a second, abashed at what he had done, but 
 something seemed to come between her and him, and blur 
 and blotch her image, distorting it like his own fancies of 
 her, and the brute in him kept the upper hand. 
 
 " Go and tell him that, too, and then let him come and 
 settle things with me. I'm ready for him ! " 
 
 " Yes," she said, almost in a whisper, from the intensity 
 of her scorn and hate, " I will tell him, and from to-night, 
 Keith, all is ended between you and me." 
 
 She went past him, and down the steps into the garden, 
 then along the gravel path by the back of the house to the 
 end of the big veranda from which her own room opened. 
 She could see the flutter of dresses away down in the gar- 
 den, and could hear the laughter of the two little Cusack 
 girls, and the sound of Ambrose Blanchard's voice, singing 
 a love song at the other end of the veranda. The night 
 was young yet, and these people were amused and occupied. 
 It would be a long time before they tliought of bed. 
 
 She crept into her room. Oh, the relief of knowing that 
 
 tliis niglit, at least, her husband would not share it with 
 
 lier. Ning lay fast asleep in the stretcher bed that had 
 
 been improvised for her in the bathroom adjoining, her 
 
 little limbs half uncovered, and her elfish locks streaming 
 
 about the pillow. Gladys' bed had the mosquito nets 
 
 drawn close, and was, of course, empty. Clare determined 
 
 that slie would get into bed and pretend to be asleep, so 
 33 
 
332 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 that Gladys might not ask her questions. She took off her 
 dress, and stood before the glass looking at herself — at 
 her stony face, in which the eyes were like living things, so 
 bright were they, and at the cruel red mark upon the white- 
 ness of her neck. The thought came to her that it might 
 be well Gladys should see that mark. She remembered 
 Geneste's suggestion about the possibility of legitimately 
 gaining her freedom. But she dismissed the notion as 
 though it had been a guilty one. That would be mean 
 indeed — at least so it seemed to her. Through all her out- 
 raged dignity, and woman's revolt against what lie had 
 done, her conscience found excuse for Tregaskiss. He bad 
 upbraided her coarsely, and in one sense wrongfully, and 
 he had struck her ; but in another sense had she not 
 deserved the upbraidings, and, according to rough and 
 ready ethics, the blow ? She had not taken her husband's 
 character away to Mrs. Cusack, nor had she ever tried to 
 set his child against him ; but had she not been false to her 
 wifely vow in a far worse way ? Had she not allowed her- 
 self to consider as a possibility — nay, was she not even now 
 almost consenting to that which would give him a right 
 to punish her by separating her forever from her children ? 
 He had not accused her of the greater wrong ; he had had 
 faith in her so far — which was in its way noble of him, 
 magnanimous, and through everything it touched her. It 
 was for the paltry ignoble cause that he had struck her. 
 There was bathos in the combination of ideas, which in 
 spite of the tragedy of the situation made her laugh aloud 
 in grim amusement. 
 
 She blew out the light when she was in bed, and lay 
 quite still, the moonlight streaming in through the creepers 
 which screened the veranda, and making a vine-leaf pattern 
 on the floor. The bruise on her shoulder smarted, and 
 forced her thoughts back, in spite of herself, to that scene 
 with her husband, which, as she went over and over it with 
 all the unconscious exaggeration of recent happening, 
 
"YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU!" 333 
 
 seemed to her, — putting aside all else that was involved, — 
 seemed to have altered the whole course of her life. 
 Never, she told herself, could they two live together again 
 in amity, or even peace. She was a woman of great self- 
 control, in the ordinary emotions of life, slow to wrath, and 
 not given to denunciation or meaningless declaration. She 
 had said words to him which were, to her, of momentous 
 issue, and which could never be unsaid. She had told him 
 that he made her hate him, and he, in return, had said 
 that he hated her. How could they pretend any longer? 
 Whatever happened, those words would always come up 
 between them and make union seem the more horrible, be- 
 cause each would know that they were true. For it was 
 the truth — it had always been the truth. Their natures 
 were antagonistic to the core, and nature would have her 
 way, and truth would out, at last, however rigorously and 
 however long it had been kept sealed within its prison. 
 
 "Yes, I do hate him," the poor, quivering thing whis- 
 pered to herself, as she lay huddled up, the sheet drawn 
 over her face to hide it from the moonlight, and the same 
 fierce feeling of relief came to her, in thus giving vent to 
 her secret thought, as when she had whispered to herself 
 of another man : "01), I do love him ! I do love him !" 
 
 By and by Gladys came in. She was humming a little 
 song, — the one Blanchard had been singing, — in the way that 
 girls do when their hearts are light from tiie meeting with 
 their love. Gladys felt like a girl this evening, and her 
 heart was relieved of a great oppression. She, too, stood 
 and looked at herself, and smiled happily at her own image. 
 There were no tragic thoughts in her mind; she had passed 
 that phase of life ; it had come to her early and was all 
 over now. Clare thought bitterly that fate had let off 
 Gladys easily, but Clare did not know that the burden of 
 a man's death lay upon Gladys' soul. 
 
 Gladys did not at first remember her friend, so taken up 
 was she with her own pleasant imaginings, but presently. 
 
334 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 with a little start of recollection, she turned, and called 
 softly " Clare ! " stooping when she got no answer and 
 peering tlirough the curtains to satisfy herself that Mrs. 
 Tregaskiss was asleep. Slie stopped singing, and moved 
 about very quietly in her preparations for rest. When the 
 candle had been blown out again, there was a silence, and 
 Clare, opening her eyes, beheld Gladys, sophisticated, 
 cynical Gladys, kneeling in her nightdress at the side of 
 her bed, and saying her prayers as humbly as any innocent 
 child. The sight wrung Clare's heart anew, and brought 
 home to her, with a startling reality, the ghastlyjincongruity 
 of her own position. Gladys was praying — no doubt for 
 Ambrose Blanchard and for herself — praying that a bless- 
 ing might attend their love, praying out of the fulness of her 
 heart, and in the conviction that there was nothing in it un- 
 worthy to be brought before the High Tlirone. Oh, how 
 crooked, how wrong it all seemed ! That Gladys might 
 tlius pray — Gladys whom death had freed, and that she, 
 Clare, who loved no less, but more absorbingly, and no less 
 purely, — for love which has its root in the affinity of souls 
 must, she told herself, be pure, — she who was separated from 
 her husband by as hideous a gulf as even death could make, 
 might not put up a petition, unless it were for strength to 
 renounce wliat seemed then dearer to her than heaven, 
 strength to keep her true to what had become an unnatural 
 duty. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "tuen again, faie ines ! " 
 
 Husband and wife exchanged no word in private on the 
 following morning. They were all to start for Lake Eun- 
 gella at ten o'clock, and everybody was busy preparing for 
 the camping-out. The yard was full of horses, saddles 
 were being seen to, pack-horses loaded, valises strapped up, 
 and rations given out. 
 
 Tregaskiss came in late for breakfast, and was met by 
 jocular upbraiding from the Gulf traveller for having 
 spoiled his night's rest. 
 
 " You never saw such a chap, Mrs. Tregaskiss, for I'm 
 sure he doesn't play on those larks when you are by to keep 
 him in order," said the Gulf man, with ill-timed pleasantry. 
 " Backed himself against each of us for a round with the 
 gloves by moonlight, which was too much of a good thing 
 at getting on for morning. We comjjromised on break- 
 downs — didn't you hear us up at the house ? Then I'm 
 blest if he didn't start on the 'Sick Stock-rider' when we 
 were all ready to turn in, and led the chorus in a way tliat 
 moved us to tears. I could never have given him credit for 
 so much sentiment, but it was after the grog had been 
 finished up, wasn't it, Tregaskiss ? Looks a bit seedy this 
 morning, don't he? I say, Martin, we shall be having the 
 bishop down on us for those break-downs." 
 
 "The bishop wasn't there," said Mai'tin. "He cleared 
 off to his own carap before we began to get rowdy. He 
 wouldn't have a bunk in the quarters, Geneste, but said 
 that as he was going to camp out to-night, and had been 
 
 335 
 
§36 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 camping out for the last three weeks with tlie timher cutters, 
 he'd as well not make a change." 
 
 Though Tregaskiss certainly looked haggard and out 
 of sorts, he still seemed in wild spirits. He laughed and 
 bragged and rollicked with Ning, — making a show, which 
 was almost ostentation, of his devotion to the child, — and 
 except that he avoided looking at or addressing his wife, 
 no one would have suspected from his manner that there 
 was any family discord. 
 
 Helen bad got into a way of looking below the surface 
 of things, and guessed that there had been a serious dis- 
 agreement, while Mrs. Hilditch had already learned that 
 when Tregaskiss was in a peculiarly irritable and rasping 
 humour in private, it was his custom to exhibit in public a 
 boisterous geniality. In this mood Tregaskiss seemed to 
 find a certain excitement in making a quarrel with his wife 
 — he was like a dog worrying a bone in the way that he 
 harped upon a grievance. His grievances were always of 
 a petty nature — not worth having a row about : the cook- 
 ing of a dish, the delinquencies of a black boy or stockman, 
 some small domestic neglect, or a difference of opinion on 
 the subject of Ning's bringing up. Gladys concluded that 
 his bone, in the present instance, had been Clare's objection 
 to the long ride for the child. There had been some talk 
 about it at dinner the previous evening, and Geneste had 
 then proposed that he should drive Ning the first ten miles 
 in his buggy, till the road became impassable for wheels, 
 80 that the day's journey might be made easier. 
 
 The child, dressed in her little riding-habit, sat by her 
 father's side, and was injudiciously fed by him with all the 
 dainties the table showed forth. Mrs. Tregaskiss went to 
 her room to finish her packing, and though Geneste had 
 seen by her face that something was terribly wrong, he 
 had no opportunity of saying a word to her before they 
 started. Clare was riding his horse — the one he had lent 
 her for the ride to the Carmodys' on that melancholy 
 
"TURN AGAIN, FAIR INEa!" 337 
 
 return from Briiida Plains. Slie attached herself to the 
 Gulf man as being the least likely of the party to notice 
 her altered manner, but when the buggy came to a stop at 
 a crossing which was only possible on horseback, and Ning 
 was mounted on her filly, the party reconstructed itself. 
 The track now became tortuous and steep, and the riders 
 were obliged to go in single file, or else in twos, which 
 often lost sight of each other among the trees. It was 
 wild country through which they were passing. A little 
 beyond Darra station the plains had been left behind, and 
 the grassy valleys and wooded slopes, through which they 
 had come during the first few miles, ended when the buggy 
 turned back again. Now they were among barren ranges, 
 sparsely timbered, sometimes along a bit of level road, or a 
 tiny flat, where huge ant-beds of brown clay were scattered 
 about like gigantic heaps of caked mortar left by an army 
 of departed workmen ; boulders of rock lying here and 
 there, like rough-hewn pillars, helped the illusion. Some- 
 times they went by a shelving siding, with red cliffs rising 
 above their heads, sometimes down a rocky gorge or the 
 course of a gully where the long-bladed grass grew rank 
 and brown, and sometimes they would mount a precipitous 
 incline which obliged them to lean forward and grasp the 
 horses manes to keep their seats. Fortunately all were 
 good riders, even Mrs. Ililditch's horsewomanship being 
 beyond criticism. 
 
 Slie was riding a good way ahead — just behind the 
 black boys — with Ambrose Blanchard. Both were in liglit 
 vein. Gladys' laugh rang out above the whirring of the 
 locusts, and Ambrose every now and then would troll back 
 a yodelling note, or a line from an Australian song. These 
 two seemed to have made a temporary truce with doubt 
 and regret, and to have resolved upon taking the good of 
 to-day without reference to the possible ill of to-morrow. 
 Geneste and Mrs. Tregaskiss followed them. Behind came 
 Helen and Harold Gillespie, and she was trying to keep 
 
338 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Mr. Shand and the Gulf traveller within earshot, to stave 
 off the sentimental interview which she knew Gillespie had 
 in his mind. The others were " dodging about," as Martin 
 put it, the little Cusack girls and the young men making 
 short excursions after kangaroo, jumping convenient logs, 
 and riding tilt at hanging blossoms, and otherwise bringing 
 on themselves the reproach of taking too much out of their 
 horses. Tregaskiss joined sometimes in the romps, but 
 more often loitered with Miss Lawford in the rear of the 
 rest. He was smoking continuously all the time, and got 
 off occasionallj'^, and on the pretext of tightening his girtlis 
 took a pull at his flask. 
 
 As the noonday heat quenched frolicsomeness, voices 
 grew subdued, and only the beat of the horses' hoofs 
 sounded among the murmurs and rustlings and whirring of 
 the bush. Gladys and Ambrose talked in a soft undertone 
 of all the pleasant things under heaven. He bad said to 
 her as yet no further word of love, but she knew that she 
 was forgiven for the past, and that her companionship was 
 a joy to him. No allusion was made to Felmarshes or to 
 poor dead Ironside ; a tacit agreement seemed to have 
 been made between them the previous evening that the 
 past was to be buried. Yet now Gladys turned suddenljr 
 to him and said impulsively : 
 
 "Mr. Blanchard, will you tell me whether you are glad 
 or sorry that I came out to Australia ?" 
 
 " Do you need to be told ? " he answered. " Don't you 
 know that I shall never cease to bless that night of tlie 
 fire at Brinda Plains. I am sorry for the sake of the com- 
 pany, which will give fewer dividends this year, that there 
 was a fire, but I am wicked enough to be glad for my 
 own." 
 
 . He paused, and got suddenly red. He had been think- 
 ing only of those blessed moments when he had held 
 Gladys in his arms, and poured forth into her unconscious 
 ears the love which filled his heart. Were they quite 
 
"TURN AGAIN, FAIR INES!" 339 
 
 unconscious ? He had fancied a faint pressure of her inert 
 arm that lay loosely upon his shoulder — and then he 
 remembered that he had had no right thus to take advan- 
 tage of her helplessness, and added awkwardly : " I mean 
 that I can never be thankful enough to you for showing 
 me a part of yourself which I had never understood 
 before." 
 
 " That would have happened just the same if there had 
 been no fire," said Gladys, with some archness ; "and the 
 poor shareholders would not have lost their dividends." 
 Then both were silent for a minute or two, and then 
 Gladys began again a little tremulously : " You must 
 always think badly of me, — as I used to be in the old 
 days, — but tell me that you won't think quite so badly as 
 you did before. Tell me that, at any rate, you believe 
 in my sincerity toward you." 
 
 " I believe in it entirely, and I thauk Heaven for it ! " 
 
 " We are friends, then," — and she half reined in her horse 
 and stretched out her hand to him across the pommel of 
 her saddle, — " friends as we used to say we meant always 
 to be, in those far back days at Felmarshes." 
 
 He took her hand in his, pressed and released it, and 
 tliough he said not a word, there was a look in his eyes 
 which made Gladys' heart thrill. 
 
 " Promise me, then," she went on, " that f-i'om to-day 
 you will begin afresh with me, and that you will forget 
 all the cruel thoughts you have been keeping of me in 
 these years. Tell me that you will think of me now as 
 one who, having made a bad mess of her life at the start, 
 wants to try and make as good a thing as she can of it for 
 the end." 
 
 " Don't ! " he exclaimed impetuously. " It's hard on me 
 when you know that I must always stand out of your life, 
 and that it would be happiest for me if I could bring my- 
 self never to think of you at all — or only as a beautiful 
 dream. The end ! " — and he gave a dreary little laugh, — 
 
340 MRS. TRBGASKISS. 
 
 " why do you talk of the end, when you are at the be- 
 ginning and have the whole world before you, and every- 
 thing it can give you in your power ? " 
 
 "Have I?" she answered wistfully, and laughing 
 drearily, too. 
 
 " You have youth, money, intellect, charm, sympathy, 
 opportunity, and — freedom. Doesn't that mean that every- 
 thing is in your power ? " 
 
 " Everything in my power ! " she repeated. " Except 
 the two things which at present I want most to be able 
 to do." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " I will tell you one. I should like to make Clare 
 Tregaskiss happy." 
 
 " Ah, I am afraid, indeed, that would be out of the 
 power of anyone but a magician, unless all the conditions 
 of her life could be altered." 
 
 "I would be a magician, and all the conditions of her 
 life should be altered. I would sweep away everything — 
 everybody. Her husband, Ning, the baby, the Leura. I 
 don't mean that I would do anybody any bodily harm. I 
 would simply arrange things so that nothing of all that 
 existed ; so that Mi-. Tregaskiss had never met Clare and 
 so that he were married to somebody else who suited him 
 better — say Miss Lawford. If one were a magician it 
 would be so easy, and a little juggling and annihilation 
 more or less wouldn't matter." 
 
 " If you swept away the Leura, as you say, you would 
 be annihilating a good many more people than Keith 
 Tregaskiss and his children. For one thing," he added 
 shyly, " you would be sweeping away — me." 
 
 " No, I should have worked my other will by that time ; 
 you would not be here." 
 
 " Will you tell me, Mrs. Hilditch, what you would do 
 with me if you were a magician ? " 
 
 Gladys hesitated and blushed a little. " If I were a 
 
"TURN AGAIN, FAIR INES!" 341 
 
 magician," slie said softly, " I would put you at home 
 again, ill your rightful place — not a clergyman ; oh, no, 
 but reconciled to your father and making a better sort of 
 career for yourself than helping to cut down timber to 
 rebuild the Brinda Plains Company's woolsbed and carry- 
 ing rations to shearers." 
 
 " Perhaps," he said gently, " that would be doing me 
 a more cruel kindness than if you were to leave me liere 
 on the Leura to my timber-cutting and ration-carrying. 
 Setting everything else aside, in England 1 should always 
 be tormented by the tantalising vision of a happiness 
 which honour, conscience — all right, manly feeling — must 
 make it impossible for me even to think of." 
 
 "Why impossible? If— if one chooses, everything is 
 possible." 
 
 " You told me yourself a moment ago that your own 
 dearest wish was an impossible one. Gladys," he cried, 
 " you must know what I mean. You must know that to 
 see you free, courted, and to love you as I love you with 
 absolutely no hope of winning you, would make life near 
 you a hfU to me. I had far better rot my days out com- 
 pletely beyond reach of you on a Western sheep-station. 
 Tliere could be no opportunity then for jealous longings." 
 
 '\But if," Gladys said falteringly, " if I preferred staying 
 on the Leura, to going back to England — if, having tried 
 what civilisation and money and all the rest could do 
 for me, I had found it dust and ashes, and so determined 
 to give the whole thing up, and settle in a purer, freer 
 atmosphere " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " he interrupted. "Among the mosquitoes 
 and snakes and scorpions and blacks, with droughts and 
 strikes and fires for agreeable interludes in the summer 
 heal ! " 
 
 " You may laugh, if j^ou please, but I meant what I 
 said ! " she exclaimed hotly. "I don't mind droughts and 
 heat and mosquitoes; and as for strikes and fires — they are 
 
342 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 very agreeable excitements. Yes, if I were to buy a station 
 of my own, I dare say my trustees would advance me the 
 capital " 
 
 " On your solemn undertaking not to marry again," be 
 interrupted a second time. 
 
 "It does not seem that I sliall need to give that," re- 
 torted Gladys bravely. " The men who care for me are 
 either too mercenary or too cowardly to take me with- 
 out my money — which I hate ! " she added passionately. 
 " Yes, I hate it ! I hate my money. It has come to me in 
 an unworthy way ; it is the price of everything that should 
 have been dearest to me — the price of my degradation. It 
 clings to me, and clogs me, and prevents me from throw- 
 ing off all the dreadful past, and beginning a new, good, 
 happy life, with no falsehood or pretence — the sort of life 
 to make you glad, Ambrose, that you have known me. 
 Ah, you don't believe that I am capable of living that life ! " 
 
 "I believe you capable of everything that is noble," he 
 said huskily. 
 
 " And yet you won't help me ; you let my wretched 
 money stand between us ! " 
 
 " Yes," he said, shutting his lips tight for a moment in 
 desperate determination, " your money stands between us, 
 and always must." 
 
 " And," she went on, " what shall you say if I do buy 
 that Leura station, and plant myself near you ? Unless 
 you run away to England, then you can't put yourself 
 out of my reach." 
 
 " It is not possible that you can be so cruel ? " 
 
 Gladys laughed. What did she care about anything in 
 the world now that he had told her he loved her ? The 
 rest would come right, must come right, since she was a 
 woman who knew her power, and he was no more than 
 human. 
 
 At her laugh, Blanchard spurred his horse, and, pur- 
 posely to avoid betraying himself further, made a dash 
 
•TURN AGAIN, FAIR INES!" 343 
 
 through a belt of gidia to where a native creeper hung its 
 wreath of blossoms over the shattered limbs of a tree 
 which had been destroyed by a stroke of lightning. He 
 gathered a bunch of the flowers, and brought them back 
 to Gladys. 
 
 " They are very sweet," he said, in his ordinary tone, 
 " ard not common about here. We haven't so many sweet 
 smelling things on the Leura when the sandal-wood is out 
 of bloom. You will see that the vegetation of the hills is 
 a little different from that on the plains. What are they 
 shouting about, I wonder ? " he added, as the black boys 
 with the pack-horses, who had drawn up a little way 
 ahead, sent out one of their long, peculiar blacks' cries. 
 "I suppose tliat we are in sight of the lake." 
 
 Tregaskiss pressed past them, trotting, leading Ning by 
 the bridle rein. The child was tearful with fatigue. 
 
 " There's a plucky one. Pickaninny ! " he shouted. 
 " Come along ! we're close up to camp. Now, Mrs. Hil- 
 ditch, lay on like blazes to your horse's mane, and take a 
 lesson from Ning ; we've got to get up to that place." 
 
 " That ! " Gladys looked in wonder at a steep ridge, 
 with a razor-back top rising quite abruptly from the more 
 gentle slope they had been mounting. The side was 
 almost a precipice, and gave the effect of a natural wall, 
 blocking their way. The growth of stunted gidia parted 
 below the cone, and she saw that the range fell away on 
 either side as though it had been cut, and that to right and 
 left were deep impassable gorges. 
 
 " Are we at the end of the world ? " she asked. 
 
 " We are close up to the top of the range, and over it is 
 the camp I said I was going to bring you to," replied 
 Tregaskiss. " Look out there, Shand, confound you ! Just 
 you take a back seat with the new chums for a bit. I'm 
 boss of this show, and just don't any of you come in front 
 of the Pickaninny. I promised her that she should have 
 the first sight of the lake, and Miss Lawford is to come 
 
344 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 next ; and d n it, I'm going to keep my word ! Come 
 
 along, Hetty ! " 
 
 The governess, who had been following close behind 
 Ning, gave a half-ashamed, half-apologetic laugh. 
 
 " You mustn't mind Mr. Tregaskiss, Mrs. Hilditch," she 
 said awkwardly ; " he is so excited at having found such 
 a nice camp, that he has forgotten his manners. Please 
 go first." 
 
 Gladys reined in her horse and looked at Miss Lawford 
 with the calm air of aloofness, saying with formal courtesy: 
 " No, pray follow Mr. Tregaskiss." 
 
 Miss Lawford blushed deeply, and gave another hys- 
 terical giggle. 
 
 " Oh, it was only on Ning's account that I've kept for- 
 ward ; the child has set her heart on getting the first 
 sight of the lake," she said. 
 
 Gladys made a frigid bow, and pointedly drew back. 
 Miss Lawford switched her horse, and taking a zigzag 
 line mounted fearlessly after Tregaskiss. She was a mag- 
 nificent bush rider, and her little lithe body swayed with 
 every movement of the animal. Tregaskiss turning round, 
 called out : " Well done, Hetty ! " His rough ejaculations, 
 as he dragged at Ning's bridle, and encouraged the filly to 
 flounder forward, reached Clare below, as in some anxiety 
 she watched the child's ascent. The climb was a stiff one, 
 and would have frightened a timid rider. Helen Cusack, 
 who, though she was a bush girl, had never gone after 
 stock, or sat a pig-jump, far less a buck-jump, shrank a 
 little. It was Geneste who turned back and, seizing her 
 bridle, helped her to the summit. Mrs. Tregaskiss, with 
 set lips, and hard eyes, dashed on ; she was in the mood 
 to ride up a precipice, without caring whether the chances 
 were in favour of her reaching the top, or being dashed to 
 the bottom. 
 
 The first cry of delighted surprise at the view below 
 came from Ning : " Oh, the sea ! the sea ! " she called out, 
 
"TURN AGAIN, FAIR INES ! " 345 
 
 unconsciously eclioing the shout of the Ten Thousand. 
 Tliere lay the lake, a great silvery sheet ; its opposite shore 
 only dimly visible — a shore of low, hazy mountains, like 
 clouds upon the horizon. A faint breeze tossed the waters 
 into miniature wavelets, and brooding upon them were 
 immense flocks of wild ducks, black swans, and different 
 kinds of gulls, while on the sandy beach, strange, ungainly 
 looking pelicans swelled their huge gullets and preened 
 their long curved beaks. 
 
 The cone on which they stood was at the bend of a curve, 
 and beyond the gorges on each side of it the range sloped 
 down from its razor-back summit in long gentle undula- 
 tions, cut here and there by deep furrows, with green 
 pasture in the openings at the foot of the gullys. Myi-iads 
 of parrots shrieked and chattered in the gum trees, which 
 grew almost to the lake shore. In many places patches of 
 sand, standing out in the water, showed how shallow the 
 lake was, and told them that in another month of drought 
 it would probablj^ be quite dry, and that the mirage might 
 be seen. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 "it is a pledge." 
 
 The carap, which Tregaskiss had once dropped on by 
 accident when out after stock, lay in the hollow of a rocky 
 gully to the west of the cone, which, impracticable as it 
 seemed at the first glance, was yet the easiest point where 
 the range could be crossed. Tlie gully was broken about 
 halfway by a sheer precipice over which in rainy seasons 
 there was a considerable fall of water. Now only a trickle 
 made the tiniest cloud of spray upon a dark pool at the 
 foot of the cliff. The pool, which was very deep, gave out 
 a rivulet that watered a small plateau, well grassed, free 
 from poison bush, the Western scourge, and closed in on 
 three sides by the range, thus forming a natural paddock, 
 whence cattle and horses could not easily stray. Behind the 
 waterfall was a good-sized cave, and this, it was settled, 
 should be turned into the ladies' sleeping-room, a tarpaulin 
 slung across the entrance keeping out the spray, tliough 
 now this was hardly necessary, and dry grass spread as a 
 foundation for the blankets. It was an enchanting nook, 
 its angle sheltered by the hills, its base debouching upon 
 the low downs between the range and the lake, while the 
 breeze from the water, caught as in a funnel, made it seem 
 deliciously cool after the long ride among scorched, barren 
 hills. 
 
 The riders had zigzagged down along what was scarcely 
 a track, over stones and fallen logs, following Tregaskiss 
 and the black boys, who were already dismounted and hob- 
 bling their horses when the rest of the party appeared. 
 Ning, once ofE the saddle, had forgotten her fatigue, and 
 
 346 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 347 
 
 was now running hither and thither collecting sticks for 
 tlie fire, and helping the black boys to gather grass. The 
 black boys loved Ning, and it was funny to hear her chat- 
 tering to them in her own queer mixture of English and 
 blacks' language, and touching to watch how careful they 
 were not to let her handle dead wood or go where there 
 was a chance of her being bitten by a snake. The gentle- 
 men turned to, — Geneste understood how to bivouac, — 
 and very soon packs wei-e undone, horses watered and 
 hobbled, a fire blazing, the billies set on to boil, and the 
 cave got ready for the ladies to unpack and settle their 
 own belongings. 
 
 Helen and the Cusack girls, with Mrs. Tregaskiss, 
 busied themselves there, and Gladys Hilditch looked on 
 with deep interest while Shand and the Gulf man cut two 
 clean squares of bark, put on each a heap of flour, and pro- 
 ceeded to mix and knead damper and johnny-cakes. 
 
 Gladys had declared that nothing would content her but a 
 true bush picnic, and had insisted on quart-pot tea and a 
 damper. Geneste had pleaded for johnny-cakes, for which 
 Shand was noted, but the Gulf man swore by his damper, 
 and Gladys had appointed herself umpire in the competition. 
 
 The sun had nearly reached the range opposite when 
 the damper was ready for its bed of ashes. Ning shouted 
 that the sea was in a blaze, and the blacks' fires, lower 
 down the valley, seemed indeed like sparks thrown out from 
 the flaming trail across the lake. Ning wanted her mother 
 to let her run down along the gully till she came to the 
 sandy shoi'e. She would not believe that there was any 
 possibility of her taking a wrong turn among the spurs 
 below the plateau, and that so getting out of sight of the 
 water, she might lose herself among the gum trees. She 
 wanted to look at the pelicans closer, to gather shells, to 
 search among the black swans for the twelve white ones 
 who were, she was sure, the bewitched princes of Hans 
 Andersen's story. And there were other things that she 
 23 
 
348 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 wanted more tlian to find the princes. To Ning, Lake 
 Eungella was the scene of all the fairy stories. She had 
 grown with the belief. It would have broken the heart of 
 the imaginative child to be convinced that Andersen's 
 people had no existence. Her mother read her Andersen's 
 stories every night, and Clare herself had always a whimsi- 
 cal notion that they were real scenes and people some- 
 where. Tregaskiss had started the theory by calling out, 
 when Ning asked her troublesome question, " Wimli ? " 
 (Where), " Oh, over by Lake Eungella, Pickaninny ! " 
 
 Unconsciously Clare had followed suit, and so Ning was 
 firmly persuaded that along the shores of Lake Eungella 
 lay all the wonderful countries of story-land, the region in 
 which the Chimney-Sweep had wooed the proud Princess, 
 the Palace by the Water where the poor little dumb Mer- 
 maid had sat at the feet of the Prince, the Garden of Para- 
 dise, the Cave of the Winds, and Ning's ultimate desire, 
 the dwelling of that friendly witch who had pulled in 
 Gerda's boat, and had petted her and made all the roses 
 sink into the ground, lest they should remind her of Kay. 
 Ning had always felt indignant with Gerda for running 
 away from that delightful witch, with her wonderful hat, 
 her cherries, and her good things, to whom little girls were 
 so precious. Ning had cherished the secret determination 
 that she would find that old witch, and tell her how sorry 
 she was for her loneliness, and that here was another little 
 girl who really loved her, and who, though she might not 
 leave mummy and stay with her altogether, would come 
 over as often as she could and play in that beautiful garden 
 where the flowers told stories, and make up to her generally 
 for the loss of Gerda. This determination, and these unself- 
 ish desires, Ning tried now to convey to her mother, who 
 listened to the child's prattle with ears that hardly heard, 
 and answered with lips which spoke mechanically : " Oh, 
 child, don't talk such nonsense ! there's no such thing as 
 Gerda's witch." 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 349 
 
 Nliig's great brown ej'es stared at lier mother in horri- 
 fied reproof. 
 
 " Mummy, you tell Ningie that Gerda's witch sit down 
 alonga Lake Eiingella. Mummy, ba'al you tell a lie. 
 Mine think it that very wicked to tell a lie." 
 
 " Yes, it's very wicked to tell a lie," assented Clare 
 wearily, "but that isn't a lie : Gerda's witch is only in a 
 story made out of a man's head." 
 
 " Munimy," persisted Ning stolidly, "you been say that 
 Gerda's witch sit down close up Lake Eungella. Suppose 
 not Lake Eungella, then wunli — where that sit down ? " 
 
 "There's no such thing as Gerda's witch," repeated 
 Clare. 
 
 Ning brooded for a minute. " Mine not believe that," 
 she announced at last ; then after another pause : " Daddy 
 been tell Ning that Gerda's witch, and Hullabaloo, and 
 BUie Beard, and all the rest, sit down alonga Lake 
 Eungella. What for daddy tell a lie ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Ning ; go and ask him ; don't tease ! " 
 
 "Mummy, mine certain sure Gerda's witch sit down 
 close up here. Last night Ningie dream — water like it this 
 fellow water, rock like it this fellow rock." Ning waved 
 her hand dramatically. " Mine see witch and garden, 
 and little fellow house — that close up — over there. I 
 show you the place, mummy." 
 
 " No, Ning ! dreams are nonsense." 
 
 " In the Bible," affirmed Ning, with triumphant convic- 
 tion, "dreams is true." Presently : "Mummy, will you 
 come and find the witch ?" 
 
 " No, Ning, I'm too tired." 
 
 " Mummy, will you come and find the witch to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I shall be too tired to-morrow ; we've got to get home." 
 
 "Mummy, you's always tired now. Ba'al you run about 
 with Ning, ba'al tell Ning stories, or come and fish for 
 craws, or look out for chuckles — what for ? " 
 
 " I'm getting old, child." 
 
350 MRS. TREGASKIS8. 
 
 " Then soon go bong, mummy," said Ning solemnly. 
 
 " Die," corrected Clare. " You mustn't talk blacks' lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " If you go bong," pursued Ning reflectively, " then 
 you go to heaven. No witches sit down in heaven. 
 Mummy," — persuasively, — "come now and find Gerda's 
 witch?" 
 
 " No, I'm too tired," 
 
 " Mummy," — desperately, — " will you be tired in 
 heaven ? " 
 
 " Oh, go away, child ! Go and find Auntie Gladys. 
 Let mummy think." 
 
 " You's always thinking. Ning will think too." 
 
 The child put herself on a rock opposite her mother, 
 crossed her little legs, put her arms round her knees as she 
 had seen her father and the stockmen do, and, with a mad- 
 dening pertinacity, fixed her big solemn eyes upon her 
 mother's face. In that attitude she had a curious resem- 
 blance to Tregaskiss. 
 
 " Go away, child ! don't sit staring at me like that. 
 Mnmmy has got a headache ; mummy wants to be quiet." 
 
 Ning got up very slowly and went away, throwing back- 
 ward glances, weighted with the purpose still in her mind. 
 
 " Daddy muoli gooder to Ning than mummy," she said ; 
 "daddy will take Ning to find Gerda's witch^" She 
 paused a minute, impishly daring. " Daddy will let Ning 
 go and find Gerda's witch," she flung back, compromising 
 with her conscience, for Ning fully intended to seek for 
 Gerda's witch whether her father would or no, and, when 
 the prohibition did not come from her mother, as she 
 expected, conceived herself free to carry out the intention, 
 and darted down to the lower camp-fire, where Tregaskiss, 
 the little Cusacks, and Miss Lawford had paused for a 
 minute or two, in their stroll down the valley, to have a 
 patter with the black boys. 
 
 To Clare Tregaskiss the child's importunate questioning 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 351 
 
 liad been as the flutter round her head of some insistent 
 winged thing, so absorbed was she in her own wretched- 
 ness, so beset by the reckless impulse to accept Geneste's 
 offer, and to go away and be quit forever of the burden 
 of her marriage and its responsibilities. During that long 
 ride she had worked herself into a mood in which the 
 children's images seemed no more than blurs upon a 
 mental background of dreary despair, and herself and 
 Geneste the only living realities. It was a relief to have 
 the child gone. She knew that Geneste was waiting till 
 they could be alone to come and talk to her ; and she 
 knew, too, that the interview would be a momentous one. 
 She was sitting some distance from the cave, in a sort of 
 niche in the hilly wall which bounded the plateau. Here 
 the rocks seemed to have been cloven by some ancient con- 
 vulsion of the earth, and were bare and striated, with broad 
 ledges, forming a gentle tier of natural benches. Upon 
 one of these Clare had placed herself. Projecting in 
 front of the niche, and scattered about the trough of rock, 
 were some granite boulders which screened the hollow, so 
 that no one at the camps would have seen easily that she 
 was sitting there. She knew, however, that Geneste had 
 been watching her, and would come and find her before 
 many minutes had passed. Her heart beat fast, and her 
 bosom heaved, with an inward sob, over her own pitiful 
 condition. Her shoulder, where Tregaskiss had struck 
 her, ached dully beneath her linen riding jacket, and 
 reminded her of her trouble. She had not said a word 
 to Geneste of the scene with her husband — had, indeed, 
 bidden herself refrain from doing so ; for, all through her 
 resentment against Tregaskiss, there was the sense of hav- 
 ing injured him, and a feeling of justice, which forced her 
 to excuse him. But now she did not seem able to bear her 
 suffering alone, and had the longing to tell Geneste, that a 
 child might have who seeks sympathy from its mother 
 after a blow. 
 
352 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Tlie moon was not at its full, but was shining brightly, 
 and the night was so still that every souiid could be heard 
 with distinctness, and seemed to send an echo down from 
 the narrow end of the gorge : the clanking of th(3 horses' _ 
 hobbles and tinkle of their bells ; the noise of the black 
 boys at their camp ; the drip of the streamlet into the 
 pool; the guggling sound of water reptiles, and at intervals 
 the curlews' screech and the answering howl of dingoes. 
 Most of the party had wandered down toward the lake, 
 tlie gentlemen carrying guns — Shand and the Gulf man on 
 a business-like expedition after pelicans, Tregaskiss and 
 Martin Cnsack bound for a reedy water-hole near the 
 shore, where were numbers of wild duck. Martin had 
 gone on ahead, while Tregaskiss dallied with Miss Lawford 
 and her young charges. Helen had tried to attach herself 
 to the group, but they had shown that she was not par- 
 ticularly welcome, and Harold Gillespie, determined to say 
 his say, had drawn her off. Gladys and Blanch ard had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Ning came upon her father at an inopportune moment. 
 She had run after him, shrieking her request, as he turned 
 from the black boj's' camp. Tregaskiss only roared : 
 "Stuff! " and "Don't let your mummy make a goose of 
 you. Pickaninny ! " to Ning's tale of Gerda's witch. " Go 
 back and tell your mummy to put you to bed," he shouted ; 
 " I don't want you ; it's time for little girls who have been 
 on horseback all day to go to sleep." 
 
 Ning slunk back, wise enough to know that persistence 
 would call forth orders that might not be disobeyed ; but 
 after a minute or two she followed the party some way 
 toward the more open country, a small shadow in the 
 moonlight, which was lost by and by among the gidia trees. 
 
 Geneste had gone in search of Clare. 
 
 " Mrs. Tregaskiss," he said softly ; then, as he came 
 closer, " Clare ! " 
 
 He saw that she was alone. She turned upon him a 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 353 
 
 ^vliite, tragic faue, and made a little movement signifying 
 tliat be might come beside her. He leaped, as well as his 
 stiff leg would allow, across the mouth of the ravine and 
 into the shelter of the boulder against which she was lean- 
 ing. " Clare," he repeated. 
 
 Still she did not speak, but stretched out her hand to 
 his, and drew closer to him, with a helpless gesture which 
 touched him to the heart. He could hardly restrain the 
 longing to fold her close in his arms, and soften and soothe 
 her Avith loving caresses. He did, however, resist it, and 
 only stroked and kissed the appealing hand. 
 
 " Sometliing has happened? " he asked ; " I have seen it 
 all day in your face. Why did you go off so suddenly to 
 bed last night ? I have been waiting and watching for a 
 word, in a perfect agony of anxiety, but you would scarcely 
 look at me." 
 
 " I couldn't," she whispered. 
 
 " Clare," he repeated, alarmed ; " it is something very 
 bad that has happened." 
 
 "Is it? I don't know. At moments I feel wicked 
 enough to be glad, for it seems to release me." 
 
 His mind jumped at one conclusion, and yet was puzzled. 
 
 "Do you mean — you remember what I said — that you 
 can get your freedom ? " 
 
 "No ; not that. I'm afraid to talk of it. I thought I 
 wouldn't tell you, but I can't help it. Only don't say any- 
 thing to tempt me. You know what you said — that day 
 riding to Gunna-Warra. If you said it now, I might not 
 be so strong as I was then. I might — fling everything up. 
 I don't know what I mightn't do. I'm so lonely, dear. 
 I am so lonely." 
 
 He could bear it no longer ; she was in his arms, held 
 fast and fiercely. 
 
 " No — don't ! " she murmured, with an involuntary 
 physical shrinking in the very joy of the embrace ; " it 
 hurts — I'm bruised and sore." 
 
§54 MRS. TREGA8KIS8. 
 
 " Bruised ! " he cried. " How ? You haven't had a 
 fall ? Show me where." 
 
 She touched her shoulder, withdrawing herself. " Never 
 mind ; it does not matter." 
 
 He said nothing, but quickly, and with a doctor's deft- 
 ness, unfastened her bodice and laid bare the white neck, 
 with that purplish red mark, reaching from shoulder to 
 chest, showing clearly in the moonlight. The cross, on its 
 thin gold chain, which she always wore from a certain feel- 
 ing of superstitious reverence, showed too, and reminded 
 him of her vow and of the barriers between them. She, 
 looking at him, thrilled at the sudden flaming of love and 
 pity in his eyes, and at the set grim look of anger, which 
 intensified the falcon-expression of his face. He examined 
 the bruise ver}^ gently, and then, with a tenderness that 
 set her sobbing, kissed the place again and again and 
 again. 
 
 "He struck you ?" 
 
 " Yes. He had been watching us You know " 
 
 " But there was nothing " Geneste interrujjted 
 
 quickly. 
 
 " No ; it wasn't that. He did not accuse me. He 
 
 I tliink he believes in me. That is what makes me have 
 a mad longing to tear off the mask. Can't you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " Oh, my poor Clave ! Yes, yes ! Tear it off ; fling it 
 away ! Isn't that what I am begging of you ? " 
 
 " His grievance was senseless," she went on. " He said 
 I was poisoning people's minds against him ; setting you 
 against him — you, and the child." 
 
 " He was drunk, I suppose." 
 
 " Not that exactly ; he knew what he was doing." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Geneste with contempt; " in a state of 
 chronic alcoholism it is not so easy to make distinctions 
 between drunkenness and sobriety. Well, surely this ends 
 it— for you ? " 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 355 
 
 " My married life in ended, certainly," she answered, in a 
 dull tone. 
 
 There was silence for a few moments. 
 
 " And do you imagine that it will be possible for you to 
 continue living under the same roof with your husband ? " 
 Geneste asked hardly. 
 
 " I cannot ! I cannot ! I told him that he made me hate 
 him, and he said that he hated me ; that I might go — to 
 the devil, for all he cared." 
 
 " Well, then, take him at his word — that is what I im- 
 plore. Go — not to the devil, as he puts it, but to love, 
 peace, happiness, with me." 
 
 Her face and attitude seemed to tell of the wavering 
 impulses, the tottering rectitude which would not stand 
 against too severe a strain. 
 
 " But you know," she said weakly, " it is not all his fault. 
 We were never suited to each other. In all our life to- 
 getlier I have been in secret antagonism with him. Causes 
 act and react under the surface — I know it. No matter 
 how we may try to hide our thoughts and wishes, they go 
 outside of us, and make a force which influences ourselves 
 and others. He has felt things in me, though he couldn't 
 reason about them, and though he trusted me. I have no 
 right to blame him." 
 
 " Granted, to a certain extent. Yet I think j'ou take an 
 exaggerated view. We have talked of this before ; and it 
 does not alter the facts of the situation. You are what 
 you are ; he is what he is. You can't be harmonised by 
 act of parliament. And your children, remember, are half 
 of him as well as half of you." 
 
 "The children ! Ah, dear Heaven ! they are all that 
 matters." 
 
 All that he said was pitilessly true. She remembered 
 King's attitude and expression of a little while before, and 
 how it had reminded her of Tregaskiss. She remembered 
 her revolt at different times against the beings she had 
 
356 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 brought into the world, because of those very traits and 
 resemblances which declared that they were not wholly of 
 her. She could have loved her children passionately if 
 they had been Geneste's. Was she to blame because even 
 nature was in conflict with the struggling maternal instinct, 
 so much less strong than the other instinct. The ironic 
 tragedy of the whole position came over her with a force 
 that shook her into helpless sobs. Then Geneste seized 
 his opportunity. She lay now quite unresisting in his arms, 
 and gave herself up to the full beatitude of his caresses. 
 At the moment it seemed to her that she did not care for 
 anj'thing in the world but the joy of his touch, the heaven 
 of his kisses. Neither of them knew how quickly the 
 time passed during those sweet interludes of silent contact, 
 alternating with gushes of confidence. Love is so wonder- 
 ful in its mj'^stic blending of soul and sense — the physical 
 so necessary, and yet so unimportant in the spiritual oneness. 
 There was no more argument, no more entreaty, no more 
 weighing of rights and wrongs, and of practical difliculties 
 against ideal joys. Everything was taken for granted in 
 that tender babble of love, of which the refrain ran, "We 
 were meant by fate for one another." 
 
 It was getting late ; the moon dipped below mid-heaven. 
 Coo-ees sounded in the gorge, and the stray shots which 
 they had heard, unheeding, ceased. Now a very musical 
 " Coo-ee ! " was sent forth quite near. Clare knew it for 
 the voice of Gladys, and started, reluctantly releasing her- 
 self from him. He would hardly let her go. 
 
 "Sweet ! Dear love ! Are you happy now ? Doesn't 
 this convince you ? " 
 
 Tl)e old struggle began once more. 
 
 ." If it were not for the children — the poor little 
 children ! " 
 
 " His children ! " 
 
 Geneste's whole manner changed. He stood before her, 
 strong and masterful, and with his eyes fixed fiercely upon 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE." 357 
 
 her face. The gaze seemed to force her to bis will ; she 
 always felt that if he chose to look at her in a certain way, 
 she must do whatever he pleased. She had never, in the 
 case of any other human being, experienced this sense of 
 weakness. 
 
 " Clare," lie said, " I am going to put you to the test. I 
 feel that this is the crucial moment in your life and mine. 
 It will never come again, and I don't mean to let it pass 
 now. Your raarrid,ge, as such, you say is ended. You 
 kliow what your life with me would be ; you know what 
 it must be for both, apart. You know, too, tlie misery 
 of the half-union — the beating against bars you put 
 up, the pretence at obedience in keeping away from 
 you, and the misery it has caused us these past weeks. 
 We can't live like that ; it must be the one thing or the 
 other. Choose — ilow, to-night." 
 
 " Choose ! " she repeated faintly. 
 
 " You must choose between your children and me — that's 
 wliat it all comes to. I leave your husband out of the 
 question ; you owe him nothing. It is your children — his 
 children — or me." 
 
 " You will leave me ? '' she asked. 
 
 "I have made up my mind to end the strain one way or 
 the other, because I see the situation is impossible. If you 
 refuse me, I shall go away from you forever. I shall suffer 
 cruelly for months — years. You know that such a blow 
 must alter the whole culTent of my life. But other men have 
 had to bear such blows, and have lived on like other men. 
 I am only 'just a man,' as you say," — his voice had a bitter- 
 ness of which slie was very conscious ; " I don't profess to 
 have superhuman strength, any more than superhuman 
 virtue. The wound will always be there, but in time it 
 will become cauterised, and I sliall get strong." 
 
 " Oh, you are strong now — horribly strong ! " 
 
 "I shall get over it. One can eridure the inevitable, 
 j'ou see I am taking the selfish view ; I do so on purpose. 
 
358 MRS. TREGA8KISS. 
 
 As for you, you will die if you go on here — die before 
 many years are past, and be to me only a memory and a 
 grave. It will be much better for you to die. I have 
 already put this before you." 
 
 " I know it. I shall die — perhaps like poor Mrs. Car- 
 mody. Why do I call her 'poor,' I wonder? But I shall 
 not be glad, as she was, when she was dying, that she had 
 done her duty." 
 
 "No, you will not be glad. You will feel that you have 
 sacrificed your own life and happiness, as well as my wel- 
 fare, for nothing. But you won't do that, Clare." His 
 whole manner changed from its deliberately hard, dictatorial 
 tone, and again his voice became exceedingly tender: 
 "You won't do that?" 
 
 " What do you want me to do ?" 
 
 The words came from her as if forced by torture. 
 
 " I want you never to go home again. I want you to 
 ride with me, when we leave this place, straight away to 
 Port Victoria, where we can catch the boat to Sydney. I 
 want you to have done with your old life forever. You 
 will do it ? Don't worry over small details and obstacles. 
 Everything is arranged." 
 
 " You had planned this?" 
 
 "Yes — deliberately. I own it. I looked out the 
 steamers before we left Darra this morning — after I had 
 seen your face at breakfast. I have spoken, too, to Am- 
 brose Blanehard, and he has agreed, in case of my being 
 called away suddenly, to undertake the management of 
 Darra. We shall ride on ahead on the home journey, and 
 turn off by a short cut that I know, to a bush inn, where I 
 have saddle horses in the paddock. By pushing forward, we 
 shall catch the evening train to Port Victoria, and the boat 
 south, almost before they realise here that we have gone." 
 
 The coolness and audacity of his plan were as a new 
 force suddenly turned upon her, impossible to fight against. 
 There was no resistance in her feeble protest. 
 
"IT IS A PLEDGE," 359 
 
 "And if I do not go?" 
 
 "Then I shall. I am quite resolved, for your sake as 
 well as for my own. I cannot live in your neighbourhood 
 knovi^ing what your life" is, and knowing that I have no 
 power to help you. You could not bear it, either ; it would 
 kill you and embitter me. I shall go'as far away as I can 
 from you, and try to blot this year out of my life — as much 
 as it is possible for me to do so." 
 
 Again the coo-ee sounded, and Gladys' voice called : 
 " Clare ! " 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss moved from the boulder. 
 
 " I must go." 
 
 " Not till you have given me your answer. I must know. 
 It is life union or utter separation, from to-night. Clare, 
 which is it to be ? " 
 
 He took her two hands, and they stood for several mo- 
 ments, the two pairs of eyes gazing into each other. Hers 
 quailed ; her form swayed to him, her arms went up round 
 his neck. " I love you," she said, 
 
 "You will come ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I will come." 
 
 " Oh, I will never let you regret it, my love — my wife ! " 
 
 " Now I am going," she said. " I have given you your 
 answer ; you should be content. From this moment I shall 
 be a diiferent woman, not the old Clare Tregaskiss any 
 more. I will not hear Ning say her prayers to-night. 
 To-morrow she will have no mother." 
 
 " Do not fear for her, Clare. If you believe in Heaven's 
 providence, you should believe that she will be cared for." 
 
 She shuddered. 
 
 " What mockery ! Do I believe in Heaven ? Don't you 
 know that I am disobeying the laws of my Church ? It 
 is better for me not to believe in Heaven's providence." 
 
 " Clare, is it a pledge ? You won't change ?" 
 
 " I won't change, and it is a pledge. Look here ! " She 
 fumbled at her neck and drew out the chain and cross. 
 
360 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " You know what I swore upon this. It was a false oath. 
 If I believed in Heaven, I should believe that punishment 
 would come Tjpon me through my child. See what I am 
 defying — for you. I've broken my oath, for love of you. 
 I have no use for this any longer." 
 
 She tore apart the fastening of the chain, and flung the 
 cross, with all the strength of her arm, out into the ravine. 
 They saw it bound against a I'ock, take a fresh impetus, 
 and bound again, disappearing in the cleft where no search 
 would ever again find it. Then Clare spoke solemnly : 
 
 " It was my mother's cross. I swore upon it by my 
 child's life and happiness. Now my oath is broken. I am 
 a wicked woman, and I don't care, I don't care — because 
 I love you," 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 OUTSIDE THE CAVE. 
 
 Mes. Hilditch was standing not far from the boulders 
 when Clare emerged from the cleft in advance of Geneste. 
 He and she both had the feeling of being detected crimi- 
 nals. The humiliation was horrible, and made Clare more 
 recklessly determined to fling off falsities. Gladys had 
 sensed the situation, and Clare's face confirmed her suspi- 
 cions. She knew that there had been a critical love-scene, 
 guessed that Geneste had persuaded Clare to run away 
 with him. Gladys was so happy herself, that her whole 
 being throbbed in sympathy with love, even thougli it 
 might be of an illicit kind. She felt a guilty spasm of joy 
 at the thought that Clare had determined to take the law 
 into her own hands ; and then, frightened at herself for 
 being glad, Gladys resolved to fight, as far as she could, on 
 the side of conventionality and the children. " Ah, the 
 children ! That was just all that mattered," Gladys said 
 to herself, too. 
 
 " Clare," she whispered, " I have been looking for you. 
 I am afraid Mr. Tregaskiss is angry at your being out so 
 long. They've all come back ; Helen and Miss Lawford 
 have gone to bed ; and I let Mr. Tregaskiss think that you 
 were in the cave, too." 
 
 " That was very devoted of you, Gladys, to tell a lie for 
 my sake," Clare answered, in an odd tone. " But I think 
 we'll undeceive Keith now. 'We are not going to have any 
 more lies — after to-night." 
 
 " Clare, do you mean " 
 
 361 
 
362 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 At that moment Geneste came up to tliera and said, in 
 his self-possessed manner : 
 
 " I'm afraid it is very late, Mrs. Hilditcli, and the fault 
 is mine of keeping Mrs. Tregaskiss out. It's a lovely 
 moonlight night, isn't it? I think I had better go to my 
 camp now, and I hope you ladies won't find the cave very 
 uncomfortable. Good-night ! " 
 
 He shook hands formally with Gladys, but did not say 
 anything to Clai'e. To Gladys, the omission was signifi- 
 cant ; to Clare, a recognition, on his part, of their new 
 relation toward each other, and of her declaration that 
 there were to be no more lies. He walked away in the 
 direction of one of the camp-fires — the furthest, where 
 Blanchard and Martin Cusack were sitting. Close by, the 
 black boys lay wrapped in their blankets, having heaped 
 their smouldering log with twigs to make a smoke against 
 the mosquitoes. The horses had got as near the smoke, 
 too, as they dared, and were whisking their tails and mak- 
 ing the bells round their necks jingle as they jei-ked their 
 heads. Beside the fire nearest the cave Tregaskiss, Shand, 
 and the Gulf man were lounging, their pipes alight, their 
 guns at their feet, and two or three dead pelicans and 
 several brace of wild duck on the ground outside the tent. 
 They were talking noisily, discussing the evening's sport, 
 and Clare, as she walked close by, heard Tregaskiss say: 
 
 "By Jove ! I'm sorry, now, I didn't let the Pickaninny 
 come, it would have been a regular adventure for her, and 
 would have cleared her head of that witch rubbish. She's 
 kept too much at home, and stuffed with fairy tales and rot. 
 I'm not going to have it any longer ; she shall ride about 
 with me, and my word ! she'll soon be sitting a buck- 
 jumper. There's not a seat on the Leura can beat hers." 
 
 "Where's Ning, Mr. Tregaskiss?" Gladys called out, 
 not for the sake of information, but as something to say, 
 that he might know they were near. Tregaskiss looked up 
 and saw his wife. His face flushed with anger. 
 
OUTSIDE THE CAVE. 363 
 
 " So it'8 you at last ! " he growled, with a scant cere- 
 mony. "I guessed you weren't in the cave. About time, 
 isn't it, for decent folks to come in and go to bed. I sent 
 Ning hours ago. But I suppose her mother was too well 
 occupied to see after her." 
 
 " Ning always puts herself to bed, you know," cheerfully 
 observed Gladys. 
 
 " And her mother hears her say her prayers ! " sneered 
 Tregaskiss. " The prayers went to the wall to-night. I 
 hate d d hypocrisy." 
 
 " Can't I do anything for you, Mrs. Tregaskiss ? " cried 
 Mr. Shand, coming forward and trying to create a diver- 
 sion, in his usual clumsy fashion. " I beg your pardon, I'm 
 sure ! I didn't see you. Look at our bag ! Tiiese pelican 
 skins are going to be cured for trimming a dress, or cloak, 
 or something, for Ning ; it's awfully like grebe, isn't it? 
 Oh, yes, the mosquito nets are slung up, Mrs. Hilditch, 
 and I do hope you won't get much bitten. Good-night I 
 Sure I can't do anything?" 
 
 And he left them in front of the tarpaulin which pro- 
 tected the entrance to the cave, having, as Gladys grate- 
 fully observed, covered their retreat. 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss puslied aside the tarpaulin. No light 
 but that of the moon was in the cave, but it was sufficient 
 to show the row of forms stretched on narrow beds of 
 heaped grass and leaves, over which waterproof sheeting 
 and blankets had been spread, though features could not 
 be distinguished. She purposely avoided looking at the 
 furthest recess, which, being partiall^r screened by a pro- 
 jecting piece of rock, and so affording a little privacy, had 
 been arranged by Geneste for Clare and Ning. It seemed 
 impossible.to Clare that she could spend the rest of tliat 
 night by her child's side — the child whom she had fore^ 
 sworn an hour ago, and whom she would desert on the 
 morrow. Something clutched at the mother's heart then, 
 but she shook herself free from the thought of those help- 
 24 
 
364 MRS. TREGASEISS. 
 
 less babes, taking I'efuge in that of her pledge to Geneste. 
 She would force herself to keep it ; she would not expose 
 herself to the cliance of another struggle ; she would 
 abstain as far as she could from looking into her child's 
 face. 
 
 She stooped and picked up a waterproof that lay near 
 the tarpaulin curtain. 
 
 "I'm not going to sleep in there," she said, " it's too 
 stifling. I shall lie down on the rock outside." 
 
 Gladys tried to dissuade her. 
 
 "Ning might awake and be frightened." 
 
 " There will be plenty to comfort her," said the mother, 
 still in that odd voice. 
 
 Gladys took a blanket from her own couch, which was 
 nearest the entrance. 
 
 " Well, you shall have this to lie upon. Come and we'll 
 find a cosey place. But, oh, the mosquitoes ! You will be 
 eaten alive and made hideous." 
 
 " I'll tie my veil round my face," said Clare, and Gladys 
 gave way, I'e marking that she supposed snakes were as 
 likely to be inside as out. They found a hollow on the 
 waterfall platform, sheltered on two sides, and with a rocky 
 floor. Gladys spread the blanket and went back for an 
 armful of leaves and grass. Clare sat down, — she would not 
 lie, — saying she was not sleep3^ 
 
 "Neither am I. And I've got something to tell you. I 
 want you to know that I am very happy." 
 
 " I knew that already, Gladys." 
 
 " Oh, you couldn't help knowing ! It's in my very self 
 and comes out at the pores of my skin." 
 
 " And from your eyes, and in your laugh, and in the 
 tone of your voice — since yesterday," said Clare. 
 
 " Ah, I only knew for certain last night. I don't deserve 
 it. I've been so bad, I'm not worthy of him. But that's 
 the beauty of love, Clare. It — it's like the salvation 
 througli Christ. Nothing matters — not even badness, for 
 
OUTSIDE THE CAVE. 365 
 
 love wasbes it all away. Oli, ray dear, nothing matters 
 but love, and money is of no account virliatever ! " 
 
 " You'll lose your money. Oh, no ! I quite agree with 
 you. That is not of the least consequence — if the love 
 lasts." 
 
 "It will last ; it has lasted without a shadow of change — 
 in me, anyhow — since the first moment I saw him. And I 
 was married then, and I suppose it was wicked of me to 
 care for him. Well, I couldn't help it. And through all 
 tliat time of misery and humiliation and loneliness, I knew 
 that my only hope lay there. That was why I came out. 
 I meant to make him marry me." 
 
 " And you have succeeded ! " 
 
 "Not quite yet; but he won't break his word now that 
 be has given it. I had to make him ask me. He fought 
 hard against it ; it was all my wretched money, and his 
 pride, and to-night we fought a battle to the death over it, 
 and I killed his pride, and he had to acknowledge himself 
 conquered." 
 
 Clare pressed her friend's hand, but made no response. 
 Gladys knew why she could not speak, and went on : 
 
 "Of course we shall be dreadfully poor, but I shall get 
 him home, and then things will come right with his father. 
 And I shall wait and save — I don't mind cheating Mr. 
 Hilditch's heirs that way. And I've got a balance of 
 nearly two thousand pounds, and we shall manage some- 
 how, and I mustn't buy any more lace. Clare, darling, I 
 want to thank you — to thank you with all my heart for 
 having me here, and giving me the chance of getting near 
 him, and of finding out that he did love me after all." 
 
 Tlie women kissed each other. 
 
 " Clare," whispered Gladys. " Oh, my poor dear, I'm 
 so sorry for you ! " 
 
 " There's no need." 
 
 "Yes, there is. Do you think I don't know? You and 
 I have been bound by the same chain, we've suffered in 
 
366 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 the same way, and we both know the hideousness of it. 
 Clare, there's nothing in tlie whole universe so good as 
 love, and there's notliing in the world so immoral as living 
 with a man you can't care for, when j'ou love another man. 
 Listen : If you were going away with Dr. Geneste to-mor- 
 row, and it wasn't for the children, I'd say you were doing 
 right." 
 
 " And the children ? " 
 
 Clare spoke as quietly as tliough the affair concerned 
 another person, only the twitch in her voice betrayed her 
 emotion. She admitted nothing. Gladys knew that she 
 would not acknowledge her intention, but none the less was 
 Gladys sure of it. 
 
 " The children make the wrong. Oh, it would be a 
 crime — a cruelty to leave them ! Clare ! you are not mean- 
 ing that f " 
 
 Clare made no reply. 
 
 "Think," pleaded Gladys. "He would marry again. 
 Think of poor little Ning and the baby ! And a step- 
 mother — or worse." 
 
 Clare shuddered, but still said nothing. 
 
 " Clare," cried Gladys desperately, " you won't speak ; 
 you will tell me nothing ; you are stone outside, but do you 
 think I don't know that you are suffering tortures ? " 
 
 " I am — suffering tortures. I want to end them." 
 
 " Oh, how can you fancy that you will end them by 
 running away ? The children will haunt you to your life's 
 end." 
 
 Still silence. Gladys went on : 
 
 " Take them with you. Go, and live your own life ; you 
 are justified — if you go alone. But, oh, wait for that other 
 love-life! Wait, anyhow, a few months — a few years. You 
 don't know what may happen. Something, perhaps, which 
 would put you in the right, and give you freedom. Don't 
 put yourself in the wrong first. Go away if you like, but 
 alone with the children." 
 
OUTSIDE THE CAVE. 367 
 
 " You forget that I have no money to live an independ- 
 ent life with." 
 
 "What does that matter. I have enough to help 
 you." 
 
 " You forget, too," said Clare slowly, " that they are my 
 husband's cliildren, and that I have not the riglit to take 
 them away from him." 
 
 Gladys made an impatient gesture. 
 
 " He would not dare to go to law." 
 
 " I can't enter into that. I suppose there's such a thing 
 as moral right, and bad as I may be in some ways, I feel 
 the justice of that. He loves Ning better than I do. 
 What is natural instinct with him, is — has been only duty 
 with me. Gladys," she added, " don't let us speak of that 
 any more. You are a good woman, and a true friend, and 
 I thank you with my whole heart. But you can't judge 
 for me. I must choose my own path and go where it 
 leads me." 
 
 She got up as she spoke from her leaning posture. It 
 was a sign of dismissal. Gladys was not, perhaps, altogether 
 sorry that for the time she must close the discussion. 
 Clare had shut herself up in a chamber of reserve to which 
 she could not penetrate. Gladys knew that Clare must be 
 meditating some decisive step, — guessed, indeed, what the 
 step was, — but had no idea that it was likely to be put imme- 
 diately into execution. She could not run away with Dr. 
 Geneste that night, at any rate, and Gladys was herself so 
 physically weary, as well as so utterly happy in the glow 
 of her new understanding with Blanchard, that she longed 
 for rest, and for the silent watches in which she might 
 assure herself of the reality of her joy. 
 
 "I see that you are tired out," said Mrs. Tregaskiss. 
 " Go and sleep." 
 
 " I shall not sleep, but of course I am tired. You must 
 be tired too, Clare. Won't you come and lie down beside 
 Nino?" 
 
368 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " No ; I am better here." 
 
 " Are you going to stay here all night ? " 
 
 "Perliaps. But the morning can't be so very far off." 
 
 " I don't like to leave you, Clare." 
 
 " Why not ? It is my mania to enjoy being alone. 
 Don't trouble about me. Go and rejoice, as I do, dear, too, 
 in your happiness. Perhaps I shall be happy as well, 
 some day — or when I am dead, like poor Mrs. Carmody. 
 She did her duty and minded her children. And what was 
 the use of it all ? Duty doesn't pay on the Leura. Good- 
 night, Glad}'-s ! " 
 
 " Good-night, Clare ! " 
 
 They kissed again. Gladys was turning away, but 
 Clare stopped her for a moment. 
 
 " I have never pretended to be a good mother ; and you 
 must take that into account. But I have done mj' best ; 
 and I have always been dreadfully sorry for the poor little 
 children. Oh, there's something horrible," she cried, " in 
 their having to come into the world, whether they choose 
 or no — tlie fruit of a marriage that's not the sacramental 
 marriage we used to talk of in the old daj^s. Oh, how dif- 
 ferent that would make it all ! Do you remember, dear, 
 how we used to say to each other that we'd choose the 
 highest — or nothing. Instead of that we both chose the 
 lowest. Now we have found out our mistake; but you 
 have been able to mend yours, and I haven't." 
 
 " You will — some day. You'll be happy, as I am, some 
 day — able to be with Mm" 
 
 " Perhaps. Yes, probably I shall be with him, some daj'. 
 But that doesn't alter the fact that the poor little children 
 were brought wrongly into the world. They are children 
 
 of sin and shame ; worse off than if For when they've 
 
 come through love, their mother must have a different 
 feeling for them ; and that's just the wrong in me. Well, 
 I suppose God knows all about it. He should care for 
 them and put the wrong right, and raise friends for them 
 
OUTSIDE THE CAVE. 369 
 
 better than their wicked mothers. Gladys, I just wanted 
 to ask j'ou to think of that when — when you've got chil- 
 dren of your own. I just wanted to say If anything 
 
 should happen to me, and it ever comes in your way, you'll 
 be kind, won't you, to my Ning and baby ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE PENALTY. 
 
 Through the hours Clai-e Tregaskiss remained half lying, 
 half crouching in the liollovv beside the cave. She had, in a 
 mechanical fashion, prepared herself for the night, piling 
 up against the wall of rock the leaves and grass Gladj'S 
 had brought, thus making a sort of cushion upon which 
 she reclined, the blanket spread over it and her waterproof 
 covering her knees. The mosquitoes, having scant shelter 
 of lierbage just here, were not so troublesome as down on 
 the grassy plateau, or perhaps she did not feel them. 
 Anyhow, she untied tlie veil she had fastened round her 
 head and face, and stayed during the night bareheaded, and 
 with wide eyes staring out over the desolate bush. 
 
 The scene harmonised with her mood. It was her 
 impulse always, when she was wretched or torn by rebellious 
 longings, to make for the wildest and lonliest spot she 
 could find. To-night she was so physically exhausted and 
 so wrought up mentally that she was barely conscious of 
 material facts. She had a grewsome fancy of herself as one 
 walking on the edge of a precipice, the pledge to Geneste 
 her foothold, as it were, the thought of her children and of 
 the life she was going to give up, typified in the black 
 vacuum below, from which, to save herself, she must keep 
 away her eyes and lier mind, but which was always horribly 
 present. Everything else was a confusion of sounds and 
 of dim images, except the light of Geneste's camp, and the 
 tlirilling consciousness of that steel-like, invisible chain 
 binding their two beings together. Sometimes Ning's 
 solemn dark eyes would shine out of the gulf, and then she 
 
 870 
 
THE PENALTY. 371 
 
 would wince and totter, and in terror draw herself together 
 and turn her own eyes inward. Sometimes she would 
 fancy that she heard Ning's voice in its quaint half aborig- 
 inal utterances raised in accents of pain and distress, and 
 at such moments would have difficulty in assuring herself 
 that on the other side of the rocky wall Ning lay soundly 
 sleeping. 
 
 It was not strange that uncanny fancies should have 
 visited her, for the ghostly scene and the night sounds were 
 enough to make stout nerves creep. The bush was full of 
 weird gurglings and rustlings, and an impression of mystery 
 and of the illimitable seemed breathed from among the deso- 
 late stretches, the moon-made shadows, tlie straight bare 
 stems of the gum trees, the dark clumps of gidia, and the 
 gray upheaved boulders. The "hop-hop " of wallabies came 
 from among the fallen timber in the gorge behind her ; 
 there was the shrill chirrup of the tree frog, and there 
 were throaty noises from nameless reptiles, making for the 
 pool below the cave. Here some white-barked, crooked 
 trees bent like ghosts over the water, upon whose inky 
 blackness the moon cast a feeble ray, giving a new touch 
 of dread to the scene. She could hear the heavy flapping 
 of flying-foxes' wings ; from the scrub came the dismal 
 howling of dingoes, and nearer, the curlews' wail. That 
 sound, which for a second she fancied to be Ning's voice 
 calling " Mummy ! " was from the native bear, which has 
 a cry like a child. The moon went slowly down, and by 
 and by she must have slept a little, for she woke to see 
 that faint grayness on the edge of the sky which heralds 
 dawn, and to hear the more-pork giving its early note, and 
 the long derisive chuckle of the laughing jackass. 
 
 She watched the day break, heard the rousing of the 
 black boys when they went after the horses, and then, stiff 
 and aching, got up and stole round to the entrance of the 
 cave. She fancied they might think it strange that she 
 should have been out all night, and thought that she would 
 
372 MRS. TREGASKIS9. 
 
 lie down and make a pretence of having slept like the rest. 
 But the unconquerable dread she had of meeting Ning's 
 eyes and hearing tlie child's prattle held her back ; and, 
 instead, she went down the rocks to a lonely pool, an out- 
 let of the larger pool, where she washed, did her hair, and 
 got rid of some of the traces of her vigil. The sun was 
 quite up by the time she had finished, and she was mount- 
 ing the rocks again when she heard a call from the cave, 
 " Ning ! Ning ! " and then her own name in Gladys' voice, 
 " Clare ! " 
 
 She quickened her steps. Gladys met her before she 
 reached the cave. The tarpaulin was drawn back, and 
 Helen Cusack and her sisters stood before the entrance. 
 Clare, in her dazed way, noticed that they looked alarmed. 
 
 " Have you got Ning with you ? " Gladys asked. She 
 spoke sharply, and her eyes had a frightened expression. 
 
 " Ning ! " cried Mrs. Tregaskiss, startled. " No ; I have 
 not seen her. Is she not in the cave ? " 
 
 " We can't find her," answered Gladys. " I thought 
 you might have jCome in when we were asleep and taken 
 her out." 
 
 " No ; she is in bed," said Clare, turning white with an 
 undefined fear. 
 
 " I don't believe she has been in bed all night," cried 
 Gladys. "The blanket looks as if it had never been 
 disturbed. There was a roll of waterproofs and things 
 on it, and that made me think she was there. It was so 
 dark in the cave ; and I never looked closely." 
 
 The Cusack children joined in. . They had been so tired 
 that they had tumbled into bed without thinking of Ning. 
 Miss Lawford spoke of how the child had begged her 
 father to look for Gerda's witch with her, and how he had 
 sent her back to bed. Not one of them had seen Ning 
 since then ; there were no traces of her in the cave : the 
 obvious inference was that she had never been back. 
 
 As she listened, blackness came over Clare— the black- 
 
THE PENALTY. 373 
 
 ness of the inn at Cedar Hill, when she had wakened to 
 the sight of Geneste. She tottered against the rock, and 
 the blood seemed to rush away from her body. In a few 
 seconds the blackness passed, her heart beat quickly, and a 
 tingling came into her limbs as the blood flowed again. 
 Gladys was supporting her, and Helen was at her other 
 side. By a kind of divination she knew that some awful 
 thing had occurred, and that she had called down a doom 
 upon her child. Gladys and Helen heard her say, in a 
 terrible sort of inward whisper : " God has punished me. 
 He has killed Ning." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Tregaskiss ! don't be frightened ; it's sure to 
 be all right, and I expect she is just playing round," said 
 Helen. " Or perhaps she has gone to one of the other 
 camps. I'll run and see." 
 
 Helen flew to the nearest of the camps, where Tregaskiss, 
 just riseti from his blankets, was rating a black boy for hav- 
 ing let one of the horses stray. Shand, the Gulf man, and 
 Martin Cusack were kindling a fire, and making prepara- 
 tions for the baking of johnny-cakes, while Geneste and 
 Blanchard filled the billies with water. 
 
 " Ning ! My good God ! she's gone ; and has lost her- 
 self ! " cried Tregaskiss, horror-stricken, when Helen told 
 him how the child was missing. " I sent her back to bed 
 when we went shooting last night. I haven't seen her 
 since." 
 
 It was the same story with all. No one had beheld Ning 
 since she had called after her father, and he had told her 
 it was time for pickaninnies to be asleep. Everybody who 
 had thought about her at all, had supposed that she had 
 put herself to bed, as was her habit at home. Those who 
 had thought of her, upon going into the cave, seeing in the 
 dim moonlight the bundle upon her blanket, in the recess, 
 had imagined it to be Ning herself, coiled up in profound 
 slumber. Besides, they had of course expected that her 
 mother would be beside her. When Tregaskiss learned 
 
374 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 that Clare had not slept in the cave, his mad anger knew 
 no bounds. He uttered words which were not pleasant 
 for bystanders to hear. Meanwhile the gorge rang with 
 coo-ees, and calls of " Ning, Ning ! " Miss Lawford, 
 glad to escape from the scene between Tregaskiss and his 
 wife, rushed with the Cusack girls, peering into impossible 
 crannies. Helen and Martin searched more systematically 
 round the plateau. Clare, herself, was like one upon whom 
 a doom has fallen, and who knows there is no use in resist- 
 ance. She bore her husband's i-eproaches with perfect 
 quietness, not stirring a muscle, still and stony as though 
 the nerves of hearing and sensation had been paralysed. 
 
 " Have you no feeling at all, that you stand there like a 
 marble statue?" roared Tregaskiss, who had completely 
 
 lost his head. "By G d ! if anything has happened to 
 
 the Pickaninny through your neglect, I'll never speak to 
 YOU or look on your face again. As for me, I'd as soon be 
 dead and done for, as lose the Pickaninny ! " 
 
 Geneste and Blanchard stepped up to him. Ambrose 
 spoke first : 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Tregaskiss ! it isn't as bad as all that ; 
 and this isn't the way to take it. Mrs. Tregaskiss is no 
 more to blame than you or I, or any of us. The child will 
 be found again all right, you may be certain ; she has just 
 strayed and lost herself, and we've got to lose no time in 
 looking for her. Let's settle at once what to do." 
 
 " We had better divide into search parties," said 
 Geneste. " Each one should take a black boy, except, per- 
 haps, myself and Martin Cusack. He's a good tracker, 
 and I'm used to it." 
 
 " I'll back Geneste to track a skitter across running 
 water," cried the Gulf man. 
 
 Tregaskiss bestirred himself with feverish activity. 
 Geneste took command, and presently the horses were 
 saddled, and the search parties started. ^ Tregaskiss fore- 
 most. Soon every person of that pleasure expedition was 
 
THE PENALTY. 3Y5 
 
 scouring range, gullies, and flats, and lake shore for little 
 Ning. 
 
 The ladies of the party and the new chums kept near the 
 gorge and scoured the ground, going in line to and fro 
 among the gullies, shouting as they went, but no answer- 
 ing call came, and there was no sign of the child. Then 
 they went toward the lake, but to no avail. At one o'clock 
 a black boy among the searchers struck a track for about 
 ten yards on the old Eungella road, and then again, for 
 about a hundred yards on a cattle-path, — just two tiny boot- 
 marks, — but it was lost again completely. The tracks ran 
 inland from the lake and were a long way from the camp, 
 telling a pathetic tale of the poor baby's night wanderings. 
 They made these tracks the point of a fresh start in all the 
 directions round. Blanchard rode back with the news, and 
 Gladys and Helen and even Miss Lawford wept with joy, 
 for now they felt sure Ning would be found. But Clare 
 did not shed a tear or give a smile, nor did she show any 
 anxiety in putting together food and a blanket in which to 
 wrap the child when they should come upon her. She had 
 been walking aimlessly, her face a mask of despair, walk- 
 ing because she could not sit still, not with any hope. 
 
 " I know that Ning is dead," she said, in her stony voice. 
 " There is no use in taking food, she will not need it. But 
 I should like to have her little dead body, so that the din- 
 goes and wild birds may not hurt it." 
 
 Her calmness was terrible ; she did not shudder like the 
 rest at the suggestion. 
 
 " Ambrose, I think she is going mad," whispered Gladys ; 
 "she never says a word, only walks, walks, with that 
 awful set face. What can we do ? " 
 
 " We will bring the child, please God, before many 
 hours are over, and that is all we can do," he answered. 
 " If only tliere were a station near where we could get 
 search hands and fresh horses ! There are so few of us. 
 Geneste is tracking like a black fellow or a red Indian, and 
 
876 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 Tregaskiss will not let tlie black boys stop for a moment, 
 though he is so wild with grief that he is not of much use 
 himself. The ch'ild must be saved if it is within human 
 possibility." 
 
 He rode away again, and there were more interminable 
 hours of waiting. All they could do still was to wander 
 and shout and make fires on the hills, which should attract 
 the little creature if she were hidden in one of the ravines 
 near. No one came back that night from the outside 
 searchers. The night was passed in that aimless wander- 
 ing, and in broken snatches of sleep taken in relays, the 
 watchers starting at cries of curlews or native bear, in the 
 fancy that it might be the voice of the child. The country 
 blazed with the fires they had lighted, and some went 
 down to the lake shore, — the distraught mother among 
 them, — and covered miles along the sand. But there was 
 no Ning. 
 
 In tlie morning after the second night, Tregaskiss crawled 
 up to the camp, lame, his feet cut by the stones through 
 his boots, his hands bleeding, and his eyes wild and blood- 
 shot. He had been tracking on foot by moonlight and had 
 lost himself, till he had been able to strike the gorge at 
 daybreak. Now he had come for one of the lady's horses, 
 for their own were knocking up. Clare was still wander- 
 ing by the lake shore, and perhaps it was well that she did 
 not see her husband, for her heart would only have been 
 harrowed the more. Helen and Miss Lawford brought 
 him some damper and beef, and he ate it mechanically, 
 taking no notice of either of them in words, but Helen 
 fancied that he turned away from Miss Lawford with 
 something like a shudder. He was curiously subdued, and 
 there was an expression upon his face, in all its wildness, 
 almost solemnising — a faint reflection of tliat loot which 
 Paul of Tarsus must have worn when he came back to 
 Damascus blind. What had been his thoughts during 
 those lonely hours no one knew, but Gladys partly guessed 
 
THE PENALTY. 377 
 
 them. He came up to her while they were catching and 
 saddling Helen's horse. 
 
 " I don't want to see my wife," he said, " but you can 
 tell her I'm sorry that I spoke to her as I did. I am as 
 much to blame as she is for Ning's death. Yes, Mrs. Hil- 
 ditch, Ning is dead." He fixed his eyes, with their strange 
 spiritualised expression, on Gladys' face, and she wondered 
 if tills were in trutli the old Tregaskiss, his features seemed 
 to have so curiously sharpened, and all his bloated looks and 
 coarseness to have disappeared. " She came to me last 
 night, out in the bush," he went on. " I saw her as plain 
 as I see you. She stood in front of me and held out her 
 little arms and then she vanished. She held out her little 
 
 arms " he repeated huskily. " She was always fond of 
 
 her daddy — the Pickaninny " His voice broke alto- 
 gether, and the great fellow gave a choking cry, and 
 flinging himself forward with his head upon his arms, 
 heaved and shook in an agony of uncontrollable grief. 
 ■ " I — I — can't bear it," he sobbed. " I doted — on the 
 Pickaninny " 
 
 Gladys sobbed too, it was as much at the sight of his 
 grief as for the Pickaninny. He looked utterly broken, 
 and she guessed that the enforced abstinence from stimu- 
 lant for so many hours had something to do with his shat- 
 tered condition. She brought him some brandy, but to her 
 great surprise he took the pannikin and dashed it to the 
 ground. 
 
 " No more of that for me," he said. " I've drunk my 
 last drop of grog, and I'm done forever with it — and with 
 other things too. Something came over me last night, 
 Mrs. Hilditch, that has made a changed man of me." 
 
 Gladys wondered, but she did not speak. Tregaskiss 
 got up and shouted with one of his old oaths to the black 
 boy to be quick with the horse. 
 
 " She's dead," he murmured, " but I've got to find her. 
 It kills me to think of my Pickaninny's pretty face, and 
 
378 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 perhaps the dingoes " Again he gave a great sob, and 
 
 his liand and arm shook as he drew the reins tiglit in 
 order to mount. " You may tell Clare," he said, bend- 
 ing down, " that I'm a changed man. Before Heaven, I 
 mean it ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " THE WOKLD BETWEEN US." 
 
 Gladys had a good ciy to herself. She told Helen 
 Cusack what had happened, and the two looked for Clare, 
 who was walking along the shore of the lake in a dreary, 
 mechanical way, with a fixed vacant stare on the ground, 
 which showed plainly that she had given up all hope, if, 
 indeed, she had ever had any. 
 
 Later on, Heleij came upon Miss Lawford lying, her face 
 to tlie ground, in passionate tears. 
 
 Ambrose Blanchard rode into camp in the afternoon, 
 faint, worn, and dispirited. The tracks had come to noth- 
 ing, and there was still no trace of the child. He had been 
 searching during the night as long as the moon lasted, and 
 the others had gone fortli again, but now all were becom- 
 ing hopeless, and they had no expectation of finding King 
 alive. Geneste, he said, had more than once struck tracks, 
 but had lost them again. He had never stopped to sleep, 
 eat, or rest. Fortunately they had met with a party of 
 fencers, and had been able to get two fresh horses and 
 more hands. One of tlie fencers had gone to give the 
 alarm at the bush township of Eungella, and to call out 
 the police. Ambrose came now to see how the ladies and 
 the new chum in charge of them were getting on for pro- 
 visions, and to consult as to the advisability of their mak- 
 ing for Darra-Darra. They, too, were almost worn out, 
 and Gladys was deeply alarmed for Clare, who kept always 
 the same marble face, and did nothing but walk in that 
 mechanical, chained-beast fashion. She would not hear, 
 however, of leaving the place. 
 
 25 «™ 
 
380 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 "I know that Ning is dead," slie repeated, "but I will 
 not go away till they have buried lier." 
 
 Her composure was that of a mad woman, and Blanchard 
 grew frightened also. Gladys was fretted to a shadow, 
 but held out bravely, and smiled at him radiantly : happi- 
 ness is an effective spur to heroism. Helen, too, though her 
 pretty freshness had gone, was self-collected and grandly 
 devoted, taking turns with Gladys to watch, if from a dis- 
 tance, poor distraught Clare. 
 
 It was hysterical little Miss Lawford who showed the 
 white feather. She wept profusely, and wildly entreated 
 to be taken home. What was the use of her staying ? Slie 
 could do no good to poor little Ning. Slie was dying of 
 terror, and she knew that Mr. Tregaskiss had turned 
 against her, and blamed her for the loss of the child. She 
 had done notliing, she declared, to be treated so. Mrs. 
 Cusack would be uneasy, too, about the children, and what 
 was to hinder their being murdered by blacks in that lonely, 
 unprotected camp ? Might they not have a black boy, or 
 one of the gentlemen who knew tlie waj"-, and be taken to 
 Darra-Darra ? 
 
 " You know the black boys are moi'e valuable than any 
 of us as trackers," said Blanchard. "I wish to Heaven we 
 could spare somebody," lie added, in an aside to Helen, 
 " and get rid of her." Whereupon Helen, roused to gentle 
 wrath, rebuked the governess so sternly for her selfish 
 want of consideration that Miss Lawford retired abashed, 
 shrieking that no one knew what slie was suffering and 
 how her heart was broken, and hid herself in the cave, 
 where she gave way to a prolonged bout of sobbing. By 
 what she called afterward a " miraculous coincidence," 
 deliverance came just after Blanchard had gone, in the 
 shape of her old admirer, the land commissioner, who, hav- 
 ing heard the sad news from the fencer on his way to 
 Eungella, had left the men with hira to help in the search, 
 and at Geneste's instance had hurried on to the camp. 
 
"THE WORLD BETWEEN US." 381 
 
 Gillespie came with the commissioner ; lie was not a good 
 enough bushman to be of great service to the seekers, and 
 not in health for continued exertion and hardship. He 
 had a word of good news. Two black boys from Eungella, 
 who were noted trackers, had joined the party ; they had 
 found a clue in the shape of some remnants of King's gar- 
 ments, and one little boot, and it was probable tliat the 
 end was now near. 
 
 Tiie land commissioner saw his opportunity, and seized 
 it. Woebegone and dishevelled as she was, Miss Law ford 
 seemed to him more attractive in her pleading helplessness 
 than when confident and tricked out in her showj"- finery. 
 He was thrilled to the heart by the way in which she clung 
 to him. He was a good bushman, and knew the road, and 
 there was no reason why he should not escort her and the 
 two Cusack girls to DarraDarra at once. Helen indig- 
 nantly refused to accompany them ; but though Minnie 
 and Tottie rebelled, and protested that it was cowardly to 
 leave the others in their distress, this was obviously the 
 wisest course, and so the commissioner had the horses 
 saddled, and the four rode away, to the relief of those who 
 remained. 
 
 That afternoon nature asserted herself. Clare fainted in 
 her restless tramp, and was for a long time unconsdous. 
 About sundown the thud of horses' feet sounded in the 
 gorge, and one by one, winding down the range, a strag- 
 gling line of riders appeared. Geneste, torn, unshaven, 
 bent, having become, as it were, an old man in those three 
 daj's, was foremost. He carried no bnrden ; there was not 
 a coo-ee uttered, and the silence and his miserable face 
 told Helen, who saw them first, only too surel^y that the 
 search was ended, and that Ning would never come back 
 again. 
 
 She ran to meet him ; she was practically alone in the 
 camp, for Clare Tregaskiss was lying in a half stupor in 
 the cave with Gladys watching her, and Harold Gillespie, 
 
382 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 had gone upon a last despairing liunt in the crannies of the 
 goi'ge. Geiieste dismounted at the foot of the range, and 
 tried to meet Helen, but he staggered against a rock, and 
 she saw that he was completely exhausted and unmanned. 
 No wonder ! Apart from the anxiety and remorse he had 
 been enduring, he had not taken off his clothes, had not 
 slept, and had scarcely eaten for two nights and three days. 
 He could hardly speak, but clasped Helen's hand as though 
 he found comfort in the pressure. 
 
 " How is she ? " he asked presently. 
 
 Helen knew whom he meant. 
 
 "She fainted, and seems only half conscious now. She 
 walked and walked, all day and night. I thought she 
 would go mad. Perhaps this is the best thing for her." 
 
 " Yes — if one could keep her unconscious. My God ! " 
 he groaned, "it's too horrible ! " 
 
 "The child?" Helen asked. "She will not go away 
 from here till they have brought her." 
 
 He gave a convulsive shudder. " We had to bury her. 
 It's too horrible — I can't tell her. Slie mustn't know. 
 Can't j'ou understand ? We couldn't bring it here. Death 
 must have come the second daJ^ We think it may have 
 been a snake bite. The body " He broke off, shud- 
 dering again. " I'm a strong man," he said, " and as a 
 doctor I've seen bad sights, but this one has utterly 
 knocked me over, and you must forgive me." 
 
 Helen was crying. The other men who had followed 
 Geneste kept back. They had dismounted some little way 
 off, and now quietly led their horses down the plateau to 
 avoid startling the miserable mother by the sounds of their 
 return. Helen looked for Tregaskiss ; he was not among 
 them. Geneste answered her unspoken question. " The 
 father? We left him — at the grave. He was stretched 
 out upon it ; he would not move — calling out for his 
 ' Pickaninny.' ^ I," — he gave a sort of gulp, — " I never 
 in all my life felt so sorry for another man as I felt for 
 
"THE WORLD BETWEEN US." 383 
 
 Tregaskiss. And I never," he added in a lower tone, turn- 
 ing away, " I never so hated myself." 
 
 They walked down to the tent. " I want to try and get 
 a little more like myself," he said wearily. " I — I liave 
 something to give her. All that is left of the child. 
 Helen, I think you must know what I feel — what she feels? 
 The sting of it ! It's best that she should hear the worst 
 from me. God help me to comfort her ! " 
 
 A revulsion that was terrible in its intensity came over 
 Helen. Her heart had so gone forth to him ! She had 
 so pitied him ; she had longed like a sister to console him ! 
 In the tragedy of these last days, she had almost ceased to 
 think of him as Mrs. Tregaskiss' lover. And now — the 
 thought of the father stretched on his child's grave ; the 
 remembrance of what Gladys had told her of his declara- 
 tion that he was a changed man ; and then the picture of 
 the wife, the bereaved mother consoled by — her lover ! It 
 was too jarring ; it was against nature. Such things had 
 no right to be. And through it all she loved him ; and 
 she had something of the inconsistent mother element 
 mingling with the love element that there is in every pure 
 woman, toward the man of her heart ; the mother-longing 
 to guard and snatch him from sin and danger. At that 
 moment slie jvould almost have laid down her life to save 
 Geneste from Clare Tregaskiss. 
 
 He felt the revulsion in her as she abruptly moved 
 from his side. 
 
 " Ah, you don't understand ! You think it abominable." 
 
 Slie did not answer. 
 
 " It's all wrong," he said. " Yes, I know that. I've no 
 right to expect that you would understand ; j'ou are too 
 good for that kind of thing." 
 
 She left him without a word. 
 
 Clare Tregaskiss was sitting in the cave when Geneste 
 came into it. Gladys had met him at the entrance, and had 
 left them to be alone together. Clare was sitting on a sort of 
 
384 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 couch the}' had made for her of piled up blankets aud leaves, 
 in the recess where she and Ning were to have slept. The 
 light, subdued by the half-drawn tarpaulin, and screened 
 from her by a projecting piece of rock, was so dim that at 
 first he was hardly able to see the ravages which those 
 awful days had made in her. Then, as he came closer and 
 looked into her face, he was filled with a compunction so 
 vast and overwhelming, that for the moment it swallowed 
 up the sense of their, relation to each other, and all the more 
 personal part of his love, so that there seemed no room for 
 any emotion but that of immense pity. Her look terrified 
 him. The lips were set in a travesty of her old still smile ; 
 her features were pinched and bloodless ; her eyes stared 
 and burned out of red sockets. She was perfectly calm, 
 but it was the calmness of frenzy. 
 
 " I am glad you have come," she said, as though she 
 were receiving an ordinary visitor. " It is quite fitting 
 that you should be the one to tell me of my punishment, 
 since it is through you that it has fallen upon me." 
 
 Iler manner frightened him. He made an inarticulate 
 exclamation, and half stretched out his arms, but he dared 
 not approach nearer. 
 
 " You see," she went on, " God has dealt me the full 
 punishment. It is not only that he killed Ning, but he 
 has given her to be devoured by the wild beasts, so that 
 there is nothing of her I can keep, even in memory. I can 
 never think of her poor little face and her pretty soft limbs 
 without — seeing -" 
 
 Her voice hardly faltered, but a spasm of the muscles 
 prevented her utterance. She closed her eyes, and for 
 a moment he saw a wave of shuddering horror pass 
 over her tense features. He groaned in anguish at her 
 agony. 
 
 " Oh — how " he began, and then could not put 
 
 into words what she had divined. 
 
 " No one told me. I knew. That's what I was waiting 
 
"THE WORLD BETWEEN US." 385 
 
 for. I said to myself that if God gave me back the body 
 of my child, it would be a sign to me that I should be for- 
 given. But you see, there is more to come. I swore by 
 my duty to my childien. I have broken my oatli, and I 
 must pay the full penalty." 
 
 " Clare, my poor darling. Your mind is unhinged by 
 sorrow. You must not look upon this terrible thing which 
 has befallen us in that light. Surely God is not less merci- 
 ful than man. This is not retribution ; it is not punish- 
 ment for sin. There was no sin. The accident must have 
 happened " 
 
 " Do you know how it happened ; tliere was no accident 
 in it." Her eyes through the dimness were like fires 
 scorching hiin. " I was sitting there waiting for you. I 
 was thinking of you — only of you. I would not listen to 
 the child ; I would not look at her — she reminded me of 
 her father. I told her to go away. My last words to her 
 were angry words. Oh, dear Heaven ! did she think of 
 them wlien she called out to me in her wandering that 
 night ! I put her out of my mind, and you and I talked 
 of our love. Perhaps she was hesitating then whether to 
 go on furtlier. Perliaps while you held me in your arms, 
 and we kissed each other, she was saying to herself, 
 'Mummy doesn't want me.' I didnH want her! I was 
 going to leave her altogether. It was my thought that 
 determined her to wander on. Our thoughts are forces to 
 move people. Wiien I gave you that promise and threw 
 away my cross, I made it impossible for her to turn back. 
 She'd have come back if I hadn't thrown away tlie cross. 
 She'd have been saved if only I had gone into tlie cave, for 
 I should have missed her — if I had only repented and gone 
 in. But I wouldn't go, because I was a guilty woman, and 
 I didn't dare to look into my child's innocent face. You 
 know I sat outside all the night. And I wouldn't let 
 myself think of her ; I wouldn't listen when she called to 
 me — I could hear her calling, and I told myself it was the 
 
386 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 curlews. I liardened my heart. And I am a wicked 
 woman ; and God lias punished me.'-' 
 
 She rose to her full height as she spoke, and lifted her 
 arms in a tragic gesture which told of the extremity of 
 despair. Again he was reminded of that gesture and wild 
 cry out in the lonely bush night, "How long, oh, God ! 
 How long ! " which seemed to him somehow tlie very 
 keynote of Clare's inner life. Tins gesture appeared to 
 liiin one of dismissal — of repudiation ; it awed him into 
 silence. He could not go close to her, or even speak her 
 name. He had a fancy, just then, that she was not so 
 much a woman to be loved and comforted, as a Fate 
 announcing her own doom. She went on, her voice like 
 metal dropping, never raised, but startling in its intensity. 
 
 " Now, go ! I don't want ever to you again." 
 
 " Clare ! " he cried. " Not like this ! Oh, my darling, 
 don't send me away like this ! " 
 
 " Yes, go ! " she repeated imperiouslJ^ " What is the use 
 arguing and pleading ? That will not change me. What's 
 the use of piling on agony, either? How else do j'ou want 
 me to send j'ou away ? It won't make it easier to tell j^ou 
 that I love you. Do you need for me to tell you that? 
 Haven't I done what proves it. Haven't I offered up my 
 child, and given myself to be accursed, for love of j'ou ? 
 Tiiat's enough. I've sworn tliat never, as long as my hus- 
 band lives, will I touch your hand again or willingly see 
 your face. I shall not break this oath. So — good-bye ! " 
 
 He stood silently imploring. 
 
 " 01), go, go ! " slie cried again. " Don't you hear me ? 
 You'll drive me mad, standing there. Don't ever let me 
 look at you again — that's all I ask ! Put a barrier between 
 us, that neither can ever get over. Put the world between 
 us — that would be best of all." 
 
 "I will obey you," he answered. " Yaur will shall be 
 my law, as I have always told you. You shall not be 
 troubled by me. Good-bye — my dear, — my dear; and 
 
"THE WORLD BETWEEN US." S81 
 
 may God lielp you in your misery ! May he help us 
 botli ! " 
 
 He turned from her without another word, but paused 
 and came back for a second, laying on a rock close by her 
 something folded in a white handkerchief. The corners of 
 the handkerchief fell apart and showed a child's little 
 stained sock, a tiny discoloured boot, and a mass of dark 
 brown curly liair. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 HTJSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 It is the privilege of novelists and dramatists to draw 
 tlie curtain strings at the climax of a situation, and let the 
 drop scene fall when emotions threaten to overpass tlie 
 conventional limit. Real life, however, does not provide 
 such convenient mechanism, and the human tragedy allows 
 its performers no intervals of, so to speak, annihilation. 
 Clare Tregaskiss had to live through days and weeks of 
 dull, hopeless pain, the climax passed, the tragedy played 
 to the dj'ing point, and then nothing left but the suspension 
 of nerves aud faculties in an aching blank of inaction. She 
 was fortunate in this, that thougli the suffering was acute, 
 all through tlie inaction, memory seemed, when it was over, 
 to wipe and sponge out parts that had been most terrible. 
 Looking back afterward, she never knew how she had got 
 through the journey from the gorge to Darra-Darra, and 
 thence, in Geneste's buggy, driven by Ambrose Blanchard, 
 to her own home. She had refused to stay at Darra, and 
 Geneste, in obedience to her command, had not accompanied 
 her on that melancholy return ride. He had put himself 
 to a more refined martyrdom, indeed, by devoting himself 
 to the service of Tregaskiss, who for days could not be 
 induced to leave Ning's grave. It was the bereaved father 
 who erected the sapling fence round the tiny mound, and 
 witli his own hands hewed the wooden cross that marked 
 where the child's head lay. 
 
 Geneste knew that probably Clare would be very ill now 
 that the strain she had been undergoing was relaxed, and 
 arranged with Mrs. Hilditch, and with Blanchard, who had 
 
HUSBAND AND WIPE. 389 
 
 learned something of doctoring in his ministrations among 
 the poor, and his out-station and diggings life, what to do 
 in the event of the crisis he dreaded, settling that tliey 
 were to send for him in case of serious emergency. But 
 Gladys Hilditch was aware of what had passed in his last 
 interview with Clare, and determined witliin herself that 
 rather than expose her friend to the danger of being nursed 
 by Geneste, she would call in the doctor from Port Vic- 
 toria. For this, however, there was no need. Clare reached 
 Mount Wombo in a state of exhaustion, which was perhaps 
 a merciful palliative of her mental pain. She lay for days, 
 helpless as a baby, the slightest exertion bringing on a 
 fainting fit and period of unconsciousness, from which she 
 emerged in a half stupefied condition, in which she noticed 
 nothing, but apparently in no actual danger. 
 
 Geneste had warned Gladys against the probability of 
 these attacks, and had given her instructions, and provided 
 her with restoratives, while a black boy in his employ kept 
 up constant communication between the two stations, so 
 that he was always informed of Mrs. Tregaskiss' state. 
 
 They had been back a week before Tregaskiss returned. 
 He did not say where he had been or what he had been 
 doing. Certainly some great moral change had taken 
 place in him — a change wliich showed itself also in his 
 physical aspect. His face had sharpened, and so looked 
 more refined, his eyes were clearer, and his manner had 
 lost the boisterous brag which had made it objectionable. 
 He was irritable, intensely irritable, but this was a differ- 
 ent sort of irritability. Outside, he found fault with the 
 men, swore at the black boys even more than of old, and 
 denounced the drought and the travelling mobs with all his 
 former virulence ; but in the house, he was curiously sub- 
 dued, would fall into long fits of moody silence, even at 
 meals, when he would forget to eat, and Gladys would 
 sometimes see his eyes fixed upon the chair which had been 
 Ning's, and which was now hidden away in an obscure 
 
390 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 corner of the room; or he would sit smoking in the veranda 
 for hours, never speaking, with head bent, and hands hang- 
 ing listlessly, his whole attitude expressive of such deep 
 dejection, that Gladys, much as she had disliked her host, 
 felt lier heart go out to him in pity. Sometimes the fits of 
 silent smoking would alternate with fierce trampings up 
 and down, the noise of which was the only thing that 
 roused Clare from her condition of semi-stupor to some 
 sign of sensibility. Indeed, the fall of his footsteps got 
 upon her nerves so distressingly, that at last Gladj'S spoke 
 to Tregaskiss, and begged him to desist. 
 
 He did not often go into his wife's room, though he 
 asked continually about her, and he sent a pack-horse to 
 Uganda]] for port wine and other invalid delicacies of 
 which the store was deficient. That penuriousness in 
 trifles which had been an unpleasant trait in his character 
 was not now so noticeable, and the grudging of his wife's 
 porter seemed oddly coincident with over-indulgence on 
 his own part in "nips." Brandy is responsible for many a 
 quirk and extravagance, and Philip drunk and Philip sober 
 are always different individuals. Tregaskiss appeared to 
 liave manfully mastered his failing : it was evident that he 
 had been thoroughly sincere when he declared to Gladys 
 that he was a changed man. The sacrifice of Ning had 
 not been without its fruit on the outward showing of 
 things, which would seem to justify the propitiatory theory, 
 and to prove that martyrdom, even when it might be con- 
 sidered useless, is the adjusting force in the great universal 
 scale, balancing good and evil. From the time that he had 
 dashed away the pannikin of brandy and water, Tregas- 
 kiss had never, to Gladys' knowledge, touched spirits. She 
 saw that he missed it horribly, and was woman of the 
 world enough to make allowance on this score, as well as 
 on that of private grief, for his moody, ill-tempered ways. 
 She wondered within herself whether he had made another 
 renunciation likewise, and fancied that he must have done 
 
HUSBAND AND WIFE. 391 
 
 BO, for be never alluded to Miss Lawford, as he had before, 
 in a sort of bravado, been in the habit of doing, and never 
 spoke of visiting Briuda Plains. She half suspected that 
 there had been a scene of final parting, and of heroic 
 resolve on his side in the interim between Ning's death and 
 his return to Mount Wombo. She found something tragi- 
 cally comic in the notion of poor Tregaskiss playing the 
 chivalrous part. Truly, the fact was pathetic, if its work- 
 ings were grotesque, that Tregaskiss and his wife, at total 
 variance in nature and sympatiiies, should have been acted 
 upon by the same cause to arrive at the same moral result. 
 
 After Gladys' remonstrance, Tregaskiss tried to work off 
 some of his misery on the run. He began the muster wliich 
 had been delayed in the first instance because the strike 
 had called out the bush-workers, drovers included, and it 
 was not safe to start fat cattle, and later in the hope of the 
 drought breaking up. But day by day the sun rose and 
 set in pitiless, brassy glare. The great plains grew browner 
 and browner, and the water-holes were patches of mud. 
 Even the wiry gidia trees seemed to droop and shrink for 
 want of moisture. They were cutting young trees to feed 
 the cows, and drawing water in buckets to give the beasts 
 drink. More than one traveller was found in the bush, 
 dead of thirst ; cattle and sheep perished in hundreds and 
 thousands, and ruin was staring the poorer Leura squatters 
 in the face. 
 
 It was a bad time for Tregaskiss, hampered as he was 
 with debt. The bank had refused to carry him on longer, 
 he must make a large sale or give up. The bank inspector 
 had come and gone, while Clare was at her worst. Moved 
 to pity, perhaps, by the desolation of the house, he had sent 
 a hurried report and departed. Now they were waiting to 
 know whether or not the station was to be wound up. 
 
 A torturing time it was, too, for a sick woman. The 
 West in a rainy season is bad enough, the West in a drought 
 is the Inferno. It was terrible to lie there under that 
 
392 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 heated zinc roof, the blinding glare penetrating every 
 crevice, and all the contrivances for darkening the room 
 only excluding the gasped-for air. Everything the hand 
 touched seemed to burn, metal scorched, the furniture and 
 even the buggy wheels cracked and blistered, the white 
 ants swarmed ; mosquitoes and flies were in myriads ; and 
 insects and reptiles came forth — the poisonous red spider, 
 and centipedes, and scorpions, a daily horror. Gladys 
 sometimes marvelled that she herself lived through that 
 time, but love is an immense sustainer, and Blanchard was 
 now continually at Mount Wombo. Over all was the fur- 
 nace-like heat and brooding stillness, OTily broken by dust 
 storms following a gathering of futile clouds — an irony in 
 that parclied land. Gladys prayed with the fervour of a 
 devotee for rain. And at last a thunder storm came. The 
 running creek put them into comparatively good spirits. 
 The musterers started out, and at sundown the cracking of 
 whips and bellowing of cattle announced their return. But 
 the muster was a failure : the branding fell short of what 
 had been expected — the cattle were too weak to travel, and 
 Tregaskiss sank again into irritable gloom. He had hardly 
 been near his wife, and she had never asked for him. 
 Both had the sense of an impending explanation, and both 
 dreaded its coming. Now, one afternoon when he had got 
 home earlier than usual from the run, he appeared on the 
 upper veranda at the French window leading into her bed- 
 room. She was up, sitting in a squatter's chair between the 
 draught of two windows, dressed in a wliite dressing-gown, 
 with deep black ribbons. The baby was playing on the 
 floor at her feet, while Clarihel waited outside in the 
 veranda, crooning an aboriginal song. The sound exas- 
 perated Tregaskiss — it was the wild duck ugal tliat Ning 
 had been used to sing : 
 
 " Ya naia naringa. 
 Puanbu ni go 
 Mingo ahikarai 
 
 Whoogli 1 " 
 
HUSBAND AND WIFE. 393 
 
 " Stop that infernal howling! " he cried out. " How dare 
 you sing that ? Be oif and take the child." He picked up 
 the baby and handed it to the half-caste ; the little thing 
 cried, and Clare moved uneasily. Tregaskiss turned to 
 her with a sort of apology. His manner to his wife now 
 was curious — it was sullen, but always deprecating and half 
 iisliamed. " I'm sorry for the row," he said. " Those 
 blacks' tunes drive me mad. Do you feel better, Clare ?" 
 
 " I'm going to get up and go downstairs to the dining- 
 room to-morrow," she answered. "I am much better, 
 thank you. I'm afraid you have been very uncomfortable, 
 Keith ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! Gladys Hilditch looks after tilings. 
 She's a bit of a brick. By Jove ! Blanchard's a luckj- 
 fellow. That engagement is a bad thing for us, though, 
 she might have given us a helping hand." 
 
 Clare winced. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think so," she said vaguely. 
 
 " Where's old Cyrus Chance now ? " asked Tregaskiss, 
 with abruptness. 
 
 "I don't k«ow if -lie lias come back," she answered. 
 "Jemmy Rodd told Gladys he was down South." 
 
 " There's been a boom over one of his mines, and I see 
 that shipment of meat he made has all gone off well. He 
 must be coining money — adding millions to millions, and 
 what good is it to himself or anybody ? I've been think- 
 ing," added Tregaskiss slowly, " that if his liking for you 
 is worth anything, and for " He paused, liis face work- 
 ing. Clare knew what had passed through his mind, and 
 made a quick gesture of expostulation. Cyrus Chance had 
 always been fond of Ning. But to think of that fondness 
 now as a marketable commodity clioked her. "You don't 
 suppose I meant tliat?" Tregaskiss cried, interpreting the 
 gesture with a quicker intuition than she had given liim 
 credit for. He flung liimself down upon a chair and leaned 
 forward for a minute or two, liis elbows on his knees and 
 
394 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 his face buried in his hands. Presently lie looked up. 
 " It wouldn't go so much against the grain with me to ask 
 the old miser anything now, that's all — because of — the 
 Pickaninny. I know he had an eye on this station when I 
 first took it up, and has been watching the market, and 
 Cusack told me he'd said he would buy it at his own price. 
 Well, I've been wondering if I could work a sale and fix 
 up the bank. The worst of it is that Chance is such an 
 infernal screw that he'd just wait till the bank was down 
 upon me and then take it off their hands cheap." 
 
 " I don't know," said Clare dully. "Do you want to sell 
 the station, Keith ? " 
 
 He gave a rough laugh. 
 
 " Wouldn't every man-jack of us on the Leura want to 
 sell if we could find a market ? A drought isn't exactly 
 selling time. But that's Cyrus' waj^ of making money — 
 buying in hard times and selling in good ones. He can 
 afford it. I'm in a tight place, as you know well enough, 
 Clare, and if I can't do something the place will be sold 
 over our heads, and we shall walk out with nothing. I've 
 had notice from the bank — I didn't bother you, but I sup- 
 pose you know that they sent a fellow, inspecting ? Now, 
 I thought you might help me with old Cyrus — write a 
 letter, ask liim over here, or something that would give me 
 a chance of breaking the ground. There's no use in my 
 going over to him. He's such a queer fellow, he'd as likely 
 as not, if he guessed my errand, send me to the huts." 
 
 "I'll think about it, Keith. I couldn't ask him to lend 
 money — but this isn't the same thing." 
 
 " Very well. Jemmy Rodd will be passing by to-mor- 
 row." Tregaskiss got up as if he were going to leave her, 
 but fidgetted about the room for a minute, then came back 
 and again seated himself. " Clare, I've got something to 
 say to you. Do you think you are strong enough to bear 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," she said faintly. 
 
HUSBAND AXD "WIFE. 395 
 
 " Look here ! We can't go on like this — strangers in 
 one house. We're husband and wife still, when all's said 
 and done, and we've got to rough it along, the two of us, 
 somehow, even if you do hate me." 
 
 " I don't hate you, Keith. I am very sorry for having 
 said those words, they were provoked." 
 
 " Yes, I know they were," he answered ; " and I've re- 
 pented my part toward provoking them — and humbly beg 
 your pardon for it. I had been taking more than was good 
 for me, Clare, that's the truth ; and I was just mad that 
 night with one thing and another. That's all past now. 
 I didn't mean what I said, and I'm glad you didn't mean 
 your words eithei'." 
 
 " I had no right to say them, Keith. I was sorry for 
 you, even then. I am very sorry for you now — sorry that 
 you should be tied to a woman like me, when you might 
 be so much happier with someone better suited to you. 
 That's how I look at it." 
 
 " Well, we've got to rough it along together, somehow," 
 he repeated. " And there's this to think of," — Tregas- 
 kiss' voice got husky again : " The poor little Pickaninny 
 belonged to both of us ; and she was fond of her daddy. 
 You might forgive me, Clare — for her sake." 
 
 " Oh, I forgive you — I forgive you utterly, if there's 
 anything to forgive. But you don't know — it's I who 
 ought to be forgiven." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I know — partly. Things seem to have 
 got cleaver in my mind — they were all muddled before — 
 since Pickaninny came to me that night. I asked Mrs. 
 Hilditch to tell you. Did she ? " 
 
 "Yes ; she told me." 
 
 " I said I was a changed man, and it's true. You may 
 have seen it — or perhaps Gladys Hilditch has told you that, 
 too. I've not touched a drop of grog since that night ; 
 and I've made a solemn oath by the child's grave that I'll 
 never touch it again. That was the root of it all. And it 
 2C 
 
396 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 turned you against me, and then I got mad, feeling I was a 
 brute to you ; and that you despised me. It wasn't that I 
 didn't care for you, Clare. I've always been fond of you ; 
 and I've always respected you — you've always been such a 
 lady." 
 
 Clare made an inarticulate murmur. The gi-eat blunder- 
 ing fellow ■went on : 
 
 "You are a different sort from women like that poor 
 little Hetty Lawford. There was never anything really 
 wrong there, — you must believe that, — though I was taken 
 with her, and I'm fond of her still ; and I made a fool of 
 myself. But it's all done with. She cared for me a bit, 
 poor little thing ! I don't want to say a word of her that 
 isn't good — she doesn't deserve it. I've seen her and told 
 her that it's all over and done with, and I expect she'll end 
 by marrying the old land commissioner. I've advised her 
 to, and to get away from the Cusacks. We've all been on 
 the wrong track, and it's time we took new bearings." 
 
 " Will you take me away ? " she asked wildly. " If you 
 can only sell the station, will you take me right away ? " 
 
 " That's what I want. I'll take you to a cooler climate, 
 and where you won't have such a rough life — even if we 
 can but just scrape enough out of Mount Wombo to take a 
 cottage South ; on the Ubi, perhaps you'd like that. And 
 we'll begin fresh. Will you agree to that, Clare, for the 
 sake of the poor little dead Pickaninny ? " 
 
 Then almost for the first time since Ning died, the 
 woman's stony reserve gave way. She cried as if her heart 
 were breaking, trying to get out words of self-reproach 
 and of entreaty for forgiveness, trying to make him under- 
 stand the agony of humiliation his trust in her caused her, 
 half repulsing his efforts to soothe her, yet humbly grate- 
 ful for the dog-like, tentative caresses which were all he 
 dared give her. By and by she sobbed out : " Oh, Keith I 
 if you knew, you wouldn't be like that ! If you knew how 
 bad I have been." 
 
HUSBAND AND WIFE. 397 
 
 "I don't want to know," he answered stolidly. "I dare 
 say you were led away — as I was myself. Of course I 
 know Geneste was in love with you ; but I know that 
 nothing would have ever made you forget your dignity, 
 Clare, and your duty as a wife and a mother." 
 
 " No ! " she cried, pierced to the soul ; " I can't let you 
 think that of me, when it isn't true — when I am a wicked 
 woman, whom God has punished for her sin. I had prom- 
 ised to go away," she said, in a very low voice. " I was 
 determined to throw up everything. I meant to leave you 
 forever — you and the children." 
 
 She sat like a criminal, with her head bent. She could 
 not meet her husband's eyes, which she felt were fixed upon 
 her. Yet there was a sense as of a load lifted when she 
 had made her confession. She heard him utter a choking 
 sound, as though he were trying to speak, but could not 
 get out the words. There was a long silence. At last he 
 said hoarsely : "You can go if you like, Clare. I have no 
 right to keep you or to expect you to live with me. I've 
 cared for you tremendously ; and I do care for you still, 
 though you may not- believe it. I came in here, honestly 
 meaning to beg your forgiveness, and to ask you to let us 
 begin a new life. But if it's like that, and you'd rather go, 
 I'll not say anything ; and I'll get a divorce, and you can 
 marry him. You can take the baby if you like. I don't 
 care for her. I don't care for anj'thing, now that Ning's 
 gone. I don't care v^hat becomes of me. I'd as soon as 
 not go and cut my throat and be done with it." 
 
 She looked up at him in wonder, and a kind of awe. 
 He was gazing straight out of the window, with an ex- 
 pression upon his face she had not believed it possible 
 he could wear. Slie saw that he had not spoken in 
 anger or resentment — that he meant what he said ; and 
 she began to wonder dimly, whether in truth there were 
 depths in poor Tregaskiss' nature which she had never 
 sounded. 
 
398 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 " Well," he said at length, still not looking at her ; " do 
 you want to go ? " 
 
 " No, Keith," she answered, in a clear, decided voice. 
 " I am going to stay with you, and do my best to make up 
 for what's gone by, if you'll let me." 
 
 After this scene with Tregaskiss, Clare began to get 
 better and asked to get up. Presently she took up again 
 the ordinary duties of her life, in a strange, silent, apathetic 
 way, never alluding to her loss, and avoiding mention of 
 Geneste. It made Gladys' heart ache to see how watchful 
 she was of her baby, hardly allowing it with Claribel out 
 of her sight, and how she attended to every little detail 
 of housekeeping, getting up early to do her dairy work, 
 making and mending, and giving out rations, as she had 
 been used to do. Except that she never laughed, and that 
 tlie smiling curve of her lips was set into an expression of 
 exquisite agony, she did not seem very different from the 
 still, reserved, sweet woman of a few months before. 
 
 " There's just this difference," said, in answer to the 
 remark by Gladys, Helen Cusack, who had ridden over one 
 day with Ambrose Blanchard ; " she was alive before, and 
 now the best part of her is dead." 
 
 Helen's eyes followed Mrs. Tregaskiss in wistful ques- 
 tioning, and with a certain awed wonder. Had the strong- 
 est thing in her really died with Ning ? Did she still love 
 Geneste ? 
 
 They were sitting in the upper veranda, the evening 
 before Helen went home again, when Clare, turning to her 
 suddenly, said, for the first time mentioning Geneste's 
 name : 
 
 " Do you ever see Dr. Geneste ? " 
 
 Helen went red, though in the dimness of the veranda it 
 was not noticeable, and hesitated as she answered : " Yes ; 
 he comes over sometimes." 
 
 " Why has he not gone to England ?" 
 
 Helen faltered more. " I — don't know." 
 
IIUSBAXD A2\'D WIFE. 399 
 
 " Will you tell him," continued Clare quite calmly, " that 
 I think he ought to go soon, unless he has made up liis 
 mind to marry and settle down on the Leura. He ouglit 
 to marry, tell him, and have children and a real home. It 
 is a great pity that he should waste his life as a bachelor, 
 when he might make some good, sweet girl very happy, and 
 be very happy himself. He ought to go home and take 
 up his profession again. Please give him that message 
 from me." 
 
 "Mrs. Tregaskiss," said Helen, "will you not see liira 
 and tell him that yourself ? " 
 
 " No, my dear," she answered quietly, " I do not wish 
 ever to see Dr. Geneste again — at any rate, not for a great 
 many years. Tell him that, too, if you please ; he will 
 understand." 
 
 It was not very long after this that Jemmy Rodd brought 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss two letters. The first she opened was 
 from Geneste. It had no formal beginning or ending, and 
 this was what he said. 
 
 " I am obeying you. You told me that you never 
 wished to see my face again ; you bade me place a barrier 
 between us which neither could ever pass over. I have 
 done so. I am going to marry Helen Cusack, and we shall 
 shortly leave for England together. I am not worthy of her, 
 but she knows everything and accepts me as I am — a man, 
 no nobler, no truer, than many another man. Slie loves 
 me far more than I deserve, and to me, she is so dear that 
 it will be my best happiness to try and make her happy. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 The second letter was from Cyrus Cliance, and ran thus : 
 
 " My Dear Mistress Tregaskiss : 
 
 " I have just come from one of my sugar plantations, 
 after being down on the Ubi, to learn, to my great aston- 
 
400 MRS. TREGASKISS. 
 
 isliment and grief, of the sad misfortune that has befallen 
 you. I will say no words, for I was fond of the wee thing ; 
 and deeds will speak plainer, as you will learn. I got j'our 
 letter about the station ; and on that matter I will treat 
 with your husband, for ladies are best left out of business. 
 I like the place, and I'm disposed to go a small bit above 
 the market value, which is next to nothing just now. But 
 only a small bit, mind you, so don't let him think he can 
 pile it on. A gift's a gift, and a deal's a deal. I have no 
 opinion of him as a manager, or I would offer him the 
 billet. If he'll take advice from me, he'll go South, and 
 start as a stock and station agent, where his habit of 
 blowing will come in useful. I hear he has given up nip- 
 ping, and I'm glad of it, and hope he'll continue temperate. 
 I have seen young Blanchard, and have heard a great deal 
 from him about his own and other people's matters. The 
 man is straight ; and since Fair Ines had to make a fool of 
 herself, and come down to be just like the rest of yon, slie 
 might have done it worse ; but she had better have stopped 
 in Dreamland, which is where I shall always think of her. 
 
 "About yourself : I have watched you for a long time, 
 and old man Chance saw deeper down below things than 
 you have any idea. He saw into your heart, for all that he 
 is a woman-hater, and never had a woman in the world 
 that loved him, nor loved one himself, unless it's you, dear 
 mistress, and my dream woman. Fair Ines. So I know that 
 you have had a trouble eating your heart all the while ; 
 and I am sorry for you, and glad to know now that it has 
 ended in the only right way it could end. You remember 
 what I said to you a while ago : ' Nurse your babies, and 
 turn them into blessings' ? You've got your little one left, 
 and though it will never be like the one God has taken, — for 
 she was a rare and gracious creatui-e, — she'll be something 
 for you to love and cherish when all else has failed. 
 
 " And now I come to the deed I spoke of, which is just 
 this : When I went home after that daj'^ that I saw you in 
 
HUSBAND AND WIFE. 401 
 
 your pretty drawing room, furnished so che'aply and so com- 
 fortably, with the two babies by j^ou, and Ning so sweet and 
 pretty, I made a codicil to my will by which I left your 
 Ning, that's gone, twenty thousand pounds, to be held by 
 you in trust for her, if I died before she was of age, and to 
 come to you, and afterward to the bab}^, if she died fii-st. 
 This day I have put that amount in the hands of trustees 
 as a settlement upon yourself. The lawyers will put it all 
 into proper words, and do the rest, and I wish you to con- 
 sider it, not as a gift from me, but as your rightful inherit- 
 ance from your dead child. You will find, placed quarterly 
 to your credit at the Bank of Leichardt'sLand, due interest 
 for the same. 
 
 "God bless you, Mistress Tregaskiss, is the praj^er of 
 your friend and well-wisher, 
 
 " Cteus Chance. 
 
 " P. S. — I suppose you know that Geneste is going to 
 marry Helen Cusack, and young Gillespie has gone home 
 South, looking awful down in the mouth." 
 
 THE END. 
 
£**i 
 
 •I'i^".