“Well spoken, Miss Marston,” said Starlight, just lifting his hat and making a bit of a bow like, just as if she was a real lady; but he was the same to all women. He treated them all alike with the same respect of manner as if they were duchesses; young or old, gentle or simple—it made no odds to him. “We must have your assistance if we’re to do any good. Though whether it wouldn’t be more prudent on your part to cut us all dead, beginning with your father, I shouldn’t like to say.”

Aileen looked at him, surprised and angry like for a second. Then she says—“Captain Starlight, it’s too late now; but words can never tell how I hate and despise the whole thing. My love for Dick got the better of my reason for a bit, but I could-- Why, how pale you look!”

He was growing pale, and no mistake. He had been ill for a bit before he left Berrima, though he wouldn’t give in, and the ride was rather too much for him, I suppose. Anyhow, down he tumbles in a dead faint. Aileen rushed over and lifted up his head. I got some water and dabbed it over him. After a bit he came to. He raises himself on his elbows and looks at Aileen. Then he smiles quietly and says—

“I’m quite ashamed of myself. I’m growing as delicate as a young lady. I hope I haven’t given you much trouble.”

When he got up and walked to the verandah he quite staggered showing he was that weak as he could hardly walk without help.

“I shall be all right,” he said,“after a week’s riding again.”

“And where are you going when you leave this place?” she asked. “Surely you and my brothers never can live in New South Wales after all that has passed.”

“We must try, at all events, Miss Marston,” Starlight answered, raising up his head and looking proud. “You will hear something of us before long.”

We made out that there was no great chance of our being run into at the old place. Father went on first with Crib. He was sure to give warning in some way, best known to father himself, if there was anyone about that wasn’t the right sort. So we went up and went in.

Mother was inside. I thought it was queer that she didn’t come outside. She was always quick enough about that when we came home before, day or night. When I went in I could see, when she got up from her chair, that she was weak, and looked as if she’d been ill. She looked ever so much older, and her hair was a lot grayer than it used to be.