I saw Maddie Barnes looking with all her eyes at Jim, while her face grew paler. She hadn’t much colour at the best of times, but she was a fine-grown, lissom, good-looking girl for all that, and as full of fun and games as she could stick. Her eyes seemed to get bigger and darker as she looked, and when the parson began to read the service she turned away her head. I always thought she was rather soft on Jim, and now I saw it plain enough. He was one of those rattling, jolly kind of fellows that can’t help being friendly with every girl he meets, and very seldom cares much for one in particular. He had been backward and forward a good deal with father before we got clear of Berrima, and that’s how poor Maddie had come to take the fancy so strong and set her heart upon him.

It must be hard lines for a woman to stand by, in a church or anywhere else, and see the man she loves given away, for good and all, buckled hard and fast to another woman. Nobody took much notice of poor Maddie, but I watched her pretty close, and saw the tears come into her eyes, though she let ‘em run down her face before she’d pull out her handkerchief. Then she put up her veil and held up her head with a bit of a toss, and I saw her pride had helped her to bear it. I don’t suppose anybody else saw her, and if they did they’d only think she was cryin’ for company—as women often do at weddings and all kinds of things. But I knew better. She wouldn’t peach, poor thing! Still, I saw that more than one or two knew who we were and all about us that day.