Well, of course, Kate and I got talkin’ and talkin’, first about the diggings, and then about other things, till we got to old times in Melbourne, and she began to look miserable and miserabler whenever she spoke about marrying the old man, and wished she’d drowned herself first. She made me take a whisky—a stiffish one that she mixed herself—for a parting glass, and I felt it took a bit of effect upon me. I’d been having my whack during the day. I wasn’t no ways drunk; but I must have been touched more or less, because I felt myself to be so sober.

“You’re going at last, Dick,” says she; “and I suppose we shan’t meet again in a hurry. It was something to have a look at you now and then. It reminded me of the happy old times at St. Kilda.

“Oh, come, Kate,” I said,“it isn’t quite so bad as all that. Besides, we’ll be back again in February, as like as not. We’re not going for ever.”

“Are you telling me the truth, Richard Marston?” says she, standing up and fixing her eyes full on me—fine eyes they were, too, in their way; “or are you trying another deceit, to throw me off the scent to get rid of me? Why should you ever want to see my face after you leave?”

“A friendly face is always pleasant. Anyhow, Kate, yours is, though you did play me a sharpish trick once, and didn’t stick to me like some women might have done.”

“Tell me, this,” she said, leaning forward, and putting one hand on my shoulder, while she seemed to look through the very soul of me—her face grew deadly pale, and her lips trembled, as I’d seen them do once before when she was regular beyond herself—” will you take me with you when you go for good and all? I’m ready to follow you round the world. Don’t be afraid of my temper. No woman that ever lived ever did more for the man she loved than I’ll do for you. If Jeanie’s good to Jim—and you know she be twice the woman to you, or I’ll die for it. Don’t speak!” she went on; “I know I threw you over once. I was mad with rage and shame. You know I had cause, hadn’t I, Dick? You know I had. To spite you, I threw away my own life then; now it’s a misery and a torment to me every day I live. I can bear it no longer, I tell you. It’s killing me—killing me day by day. Only say the word, and I’ll join you in Melbourne within a week—to be yours, and yours only, as long as I live.”