The Pool of St. Branok

Gold

ONCE THE EXCITEMENT OF getting on board and settling into shipboard life was over, the voyage was, I suppose, an uneventful one. The ports of call were of great interest to us and Gervaise was a wonderful guide and companion. He seemed to have cast off all memory of those hideous debts which he had left behind; he was so sure that all would be well, and such was his personality that he made me believe it, too.

Life seemed one long round of pleasure with him; I suppose it was that side of his nature which made me love him. It was impossible to be unhappy long in his company; he had the gift of shrugging off the unpleasant and making the most of what was delightful.

I had asked him not to gamble again. I said: “You see what it has brought you to.”

He put on a mock penitent expression and said he would do anything in the world to please me. I took it that meant he would restrain himself from the habit which had already wrought such havoc in our lives.

I was young; I was adventurous by nature and I could not help throwing myself into the excitement of the moment. I began to accept Gervaise’s optimism. We were going to strike gold. In a very short time we should come back rich and all debts would be paid to Uncle Peter. We should live happily ever after in our dear little house in which I had taken such pride. And having acquired a fortune Gervaise would lose the desire to make another. The present and the future were always good in Gervaise’s eyes; it was only the past, if that were unpleasant, which should be forgotten.

And so I began to enjoy the voyage. We made a few friends on the ship. We liked Captain Gregory. He knew Australia well. His father had settled there forty years before and had a property outside Melbourne. The Captain had come to England to study navigation. He visited his family when his ship called at Australia. We often dined with him and the Chief Officer—a very pleasant young man who told us a great deal about the ship.

We looked forward to arriving at the ports. Morwenna said that one of the most delightful experiences was being at sea and waking up one morning to find oneself in port. The four of us would go out together; we reveled in strange places and marveled at the scenery and the customs of the people which were different from our own; life was amusing and full of pleasure.

It was wonderful to see places which hitherto had been only names on the map; it was exciting to take a horse-drawn carriage in Tenerife and visit that spot where our own Lord Nelson had fought and lost his right arm. I could have lingered there. I should have enjoyed going up to the sunken crater of Las Canadas and to have mounted even higher up Pico de Teide which dominated the island.

But our stay was brief. I told the Captain that was a matter of great regret. He smiled at me and said: “The object, my dear young lady, is to get you to Melbourne as fast as we can. We stop at these places only to load stores.”

Gervaise said: “It is probably as well that our stays are brief. It makes us appreciate it all the more.”

He was determined to enjoy every moment and I wondered briefly whether in his heart he doubted whether we would come out with the gold which would change our fortunes and how he would adapt to the life of a miner. If he did he never showed it. I had learned a great deal about him since our marriage but there was still a great deal to discover.

I remember Durban—the capital of Natal—which had recently become a British colony. It was a very beautiful town right on the coast and there was something very exciting in the sight of the waves breaking on the shore.

But perhaps what makes that time stand out so vividly in my memory was what happened aboard.

I had thought Morwenna looked a little tired and when we returned to our cabins she said she would lie down. I had a feeling that there was something on her mind and I sought an early opportunity of talking to her.

That opportunity came after we had left Durban, from which we sailed at midnight. We were sitting on deck together. The sea was calm; there was not even a ripple on the water; it was the color of translucent jade with here and there a touch of aquamarine.

I glanced at her sideways; she was pale and there were shadows under her eyes.

“Morwenna,” I said, “is something wrong?”

“No, no,” she replied sharply. “What should be?”

“I thought you looked a little … strained.”

“Strained? You mean tired?”

“Yes … as if something is worrying you.”

She was silent for a few moments, then she said: “I’m very happy, Angelet. I don’t think I have ever been so happy. The only thing that makes it less perfect is that Ma and Pa are not here. I think they were very worried about my going.”

“Naturally they would be uneasy. They have adored you all your life. But it is always like that with families. The children grow up and marry and lead their own lives. I daresay my parents felt the same as yours.”

“I know.”

“That isn’t what is worrying you.”

“I’m not worried, Angelet, I’m very happy.”

“Then what are you trying to tell me?”

“I thought you might guess. I am going to have a baby.”

“Morwenna!”

“Yes.” She was smiling. “I think it is what I have always wanted. A little baby … all my own … and Justin’s too.”

“What does Justin say?”

“He doesn’t know. That’s what makes me a little worried. That strain you detected. I am a little anxious. He is so enjoying all this. I didn’t want to spoil it for him.”

“Do you think he would not want a child?”

“Oh no … He hasn’t said anything like that. But you see we are going to this new country and we don’t know what we are going to find. He would be worried about me … and the baby.”

“That will be all right. They have midwives there and doctors surely.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“It’s wonderful. Oh, Morwenna, I can’t imagine you with a baby. You make me feel envious.”

“I suppose you’ll have a baby one day.”

“Yes, I suppose so. And Justin doesn’t know?”

“Not yet. You see, I knew before we left. At least I suspected. I thought if I told anyone it might spoil things. Mother and Pa would have put their feet down firmly and my father can be very persistent when he wants to. They would never have let me come away if they had known. They would have wanted me to go back to Pencarron and have the child.”

“Well, I can understand that.”

“Justin would have been so worried. He had to go on this venture. I knew it. He is so enthusiastic … so sure that it is going to make our fortunes.”

“Just like Gervaise.”

“You would have done the same if you had been in my position, Angelet.”

“Yes, I suppose I might. But there is no need to keep it secret any longer. You’re here on this ship. It isn’t going to make any difference now. We are going on.”

“Yes,” she said. “But I don’t want to worry Justin.”

“He has got to share in this. Besides, you ought to be taking special care, oughtn’t you? We shall have to cosset you a bit now.”

“I’m so glad you know.”

“I reckon we should tell the men.”

“All right. Let’s do that. I’ll tell Justin first … when we are alone.”

“And have I your permission to tell Gervaise?”

“Of course.”

When I told him he was amused. “Well, fancy that,” he said. “She’s stolen a march on us.”

“She is very happy about the baby. She is so good and unselfish. She doesn’t think about going into what might well prove to be a primitive place. All she thought about was spoiling Justin’s pleasure in all this.”

“Yes, she’s a good girl. Justin is lucky. We are both lucky.” That evening we celebrated. Justin was delighted; and I had never seen Morwenna so happy. Her first thought was that no one at home should know until the baby was born, for she was sure her parents would be very worried at the thought of her far from home at such a time.

There was another occasion during that voyage that I remembered well. It was after we had left Bombay. We had had only one day ashore but we had made the most of it. The heat had been intense, but we had been enchanted by the city, yet depressed by the multitude of beggars who surrounded us. Gervaise had quickly given away all the money he had brought out with him and for the rest of the day he cheerfully borrowed from the rest of us. We bought some beautiful silk materials and ebony elephants and some exquisite carved ivory.

It had been a most exciting day and that evening we dined with the Captain.

He loved to talk and was something of a raconteur. He had a pleasant custom of dining with most of the passengers during the voyage, and always at his table there was a great deal of gossip and laughter. Gervaise said he probably told the same stories over and over again; and that was why he liked to change the company.

That night he was in a reminiscent mood.

He said: “Well, we shall not be so very long now. Soon we shall be reaching our destination and I shall have to say goodbye to all you charming people.”

We all said how we had enjoyed the voyage.

“It is an adventure in itself … the first time. Of course when I consider the number of times I have sailed between the Old Country and Australia … well, to tell the truth, I find it hard to remember how many.”

“It must have made you somewhat blasé,” I commented.

“Not as far as people are concerned. It is amazing how different people are. No voyage is ever like another … and it is all because of the people. I know you don’t intend to settle in Australia. We get quite a number of passengers who are doing just that. I suppose it is just a visit for you. Are you visiting relations?”

Gervaise said: “We shall have a look at the goldfields.”

“Ah yes. We have had many coming out for that. Only of course the fever has died down a little lately. To what part are you going?”

“It’s some miles north of Melbourne. A place called Golden Creek.”

“Oh, that’s Lansdon country.”

“Lansdon country?” I stammered.

“That’s what they call it. Chap named Benedict Lansdon made a bit of a stir there a few years back. He’s a sort of big white chief in the neighborhood.”

“We are going to see him. He’s a … connection of mine.”

“Oh well, you’ll be in the best company with Ben Lansdon. Couldn’t be in better hands.”

“Do you know him?”

“Everyone thereabouts knows Ben Lansdon.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s made a bit of a name for himself. They think a great deal of him out there. It was rather like the Eureka Stockade affair all over again.”

“What was that all about?” asked Gervaise.

“I suppose that sort of news wouldn’t get to the Old Country. Or if it did it would just be a few lines on the back page of the newspaper. It was all over Melbourne. Peter Lalor was a sort of hero in that affair. It was miners against the government and it was the miners who really won in the end. Well, Ben Lansdon is another Peter Lalor. He’s one of those natural leaders. He took charge and things got sorted out … so to speak. He’s quite a name in the district.”

I felt a certain glow of pride. I was remembering him as he had been when he arrived at Cador. He had been different then from anyone I had ever known. I had admired him so much, adored him would be a more apt way of putting it. But in those days of my youth I had set up idols: my father; Jonnie; Ben. Yes, I was an idol worshiper. But then that affair at the pool had changed everything and Ben had gone and I had been left to face it alone.

The Captain settled down to tell the tale. He loved an audience and on this occasion he had a very attentive one.

“You see,” he said, “men were rushing out to find gold. People had been finding it for years and then … what would it be? … must have been in the early fifties I think when they found gold in New South Wales. Then at Ballarat near Melbourne someone found six hundred ounces in a couple of days … and that was it. People were scrabbling frantically for gold. Some found it. All over Victoria they were coming across gold. My father’s place was nearby. He’s often told me how the place changed overnight. All over the country little townships were springing up. They even had the odd hotel. Not the classy establishments they have at home, but good enough for miners who weren’t looking for fancy living. They had one thing in mind: gold. Men were coming out by the thousands. When you’ve mined a certain spot for a few years the gold can run out. There is not an inexhaustible supply. There was a lot of hardship. Some would be working for weeks and months and finding nothing. To my mind the government wanted to put a stop to the fever so they started to charge people a license to dig. The more hardships there seemed to be, the higher were the fees. You see, what was wanted was to get people back to the towns, to put a stop to this search for gold which was not there.”

“But they wouldn’t accept that,” said Gervaise. “They had come out for gold and naturally that was what they were going to try for.”

“All very well,” went on the Captain, “if it is there. But that was what the government was thinking. But if they were finding nothing how could they pay this money to the government? They got together and this Peter Lalor … he was a sort of leader.”

“Like Ben Lansdon,” I said.

“Oh, it was before he was around. I’m taking you back ten years or more. All I said was that Ben was another like Lalor. They always come out when the time is ripe. Well, the government sent an order. There was to be an inspection of licenses and all those who hadn’t got them would have to leave the goldfields. You can imagine what they said to that!”

“But how could they fight the government?” asked Justin.

“I’ll tell you how. Lalor rallied the men. They knew that the officials were coming to inspect licenses, so they built a stockade. You must have heard of the Eureka Stockade. So they were ready and when the government men came for the inspection all those who had licenses for which they had paid much less than was now being asked, threw them out before the stockade and burned them.”

“I suppose,” said Justin, “the licenses had to be renewed and it was the expensive renewal that they objected to.”

“That must have been about it,” said the Captain. “Well, you know how these things go. The action of a little group of miners became a great rebellion. The government had to bring in the army. The miners stood firm by the stockade and over it they flew their flag. You’ll be seeing that flag a good deal, I should imagine. It’s flown on every goldfield in Victoria. It has a blue background showing the stars of the Southern Cross in white. We call it the Eureka Flag.”

“Who won?” asked Gervaise.

“The miners were outnumbered, as you can guess … three to one in fact, so the tale goes. There were seventy men, but they were brave men and they were fighting for what they thought was right. They were quickly subdued but there were losses on both sides.”

“So the rising was in vain,” said Justin.

“Not really. The government naturally had to show the miners that they couldn’t make their own laws, but on the other hand they did not want people rising up like that all over the country. You could say that the men of the Eureka Stockade won in the long run. Before the year was out the law was changed. There was no inspection of licenses. The Victorian government decided that it would dissociate itself from the miners. It was victory really because it was what they had been fighting for. Lalor, the leader of the revolt, went into the Victorian parliament. He is now one of its most respected members. What started all this was your mention of Ben Lansdon. He is just such another Peter Lalor.”

“He was a great man,” I said.

“He was a leader,” went on the Captain. “There are men born to be such.”

“And Ben Lansdon is another?”

“I’d say that and no one could say otherwise … after the way he’s taken over Golden Creek.”

“Has he found lots of gold?”

“My dear young lady, nobody—not even Ben Lansdon—can find gold where it is not.”

Justin put in: “Do you mean to say there is no more gold in Golden Creek?”

“Who can say? When the Rush started men were finding it day after day, but, as I’ve told you, the supply runs out … or they are looking in the wrong place. I don’t think there have been any big finds in Golden Creek in the last ten years or so.”

“And you say it is Ben Lansdon’s country,” I persisted.

“Well, he’s got his men working for him. You see, there are some who would rather work for a weekly wage than have nothing but hope for the odd find. That’s men with families mostly. You can’t feed a family on hope. So Lansdon … well, he’s not the sort who would want to do hard labor … and believe me working a mine is just that … so he gets other people to do it for him.”

“But what does he do?”

“He’s right at the heart of things. He’s at his mine every day. He watches how everything is going. True, there is a yield. But it is just about enough to keep things going. He did have some luck earlier on … enough to build a house for himself and bring a little of Old Country-type comfort into his life. He’s done a lot for the place. He keeps a sort of law and order. Men out there can get a bit rough with each other when day after day they are looking for luck which doesn’t come. Somebody said ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick’ and that’s true enough. Oh yes, Ben’s done a lot for Golden Creek. He’s the King of the place, that’s what. It suits him. He’s a born leader, and leaders like to lead … to rule if you like.”

I felt a great longing to see him. Forgotten memories of the times we had spent together came back to me; those occasions which had been overshadowed by the incident of the pool, so that for a long time I had failed to remember all the interesting talks we had had; and how important it had been to me then.

Gervaise said: “I can’t wait to see this hero.”

When we were alone that night, he said: “The Captain is obviously a great admirer of your Ben, who is evidently a very forceful character. How do you feel about seeing him again?”

“I don’t quite know.”

“Will it bring it all back … that time …?”

“I expect so. But, Gervaise, you have made me see that we couldn’t have done anything else.”

“I expect this leader of men has long realized that. I feel pretty sure that he will have forgotten all about it long ago.”

“Does one ever forget such a thing?”

He took my face in his hands and kissed it tenderly.

“You might not, Angelet, but I’d bet that Ben has.”

I nodded.

And I thought: Perhaps I shall soon find out.

I recognized him on the quay as soon as we arrived.

He was very tall and he seemed leaner than I remembered. His hair was so bleached by the sun that it seemed almost white against his bronzed skin; and his eyes were a brilliant blue; they were creased at the corners as though against the sun; and he had an authoritative air about him.

He saw us at once and came striding towards us.

“It’s Angel,” he cried. “I’d have known you anywhere. You’ve grown up, though, since I last saw you.”

I was laughing. I said: “You too, Ben.”

He put his arms round me and hugged me. He grinned at Gervaise whom he had decided must be my husband. “We’re old friends,” he said, as though apologizing for his exuberant and familiar welcome.

“I know,” replied Gervaise with his charming smile. “I’ve heard a great deal about you from Angelet and this is Justin Cartwright and his wife Morwenna.”

“Pleased you’ve come,” said Ben. “I reckon you’ll need a day or so in Melbourne before you come out to the Creek. I’ve booked you in at the Lord Melbourne. The baggage can go to the hotel. I expect you have brought quite a bit. I can arrange to have it all sent onto the Creek.”

“Oh, Ben,” I said, “you are so good to us.”

The others agreed.

“It’s nothing,” he answered. “I’m glad you’ve joined the company. I can tell you we’re starved of news of Home. The whole community is looking forward to your arrival. But now let’s get you to the hotel and I’ll tell you what arrangements have been made.”

We were put in what I learned was called a buggy, and passing through streets where I glimpsed some pleasant-looking houses we had soon arrived at the hotel.

We were taken to a reception desk where a lady in black presided. I caught a glimpse of men sitting at tables drinking and others at a bar.

We were at length led up a wide staircase and along a corridor to rooms which looked out on the street below. Our room had an alcove in which were washing necessities, and we were agreeably surprised.

When the door shut on us, Gervaise turned to me and, picking me up, danced around the room.

“We’re here,” he cried. “Now … to fortune.”

“Oh, Gervaise,” I said, “I do hope it turns out that way.”

“Of course it will. We’ll make it.”

“Can we?” I asked.

He nodded with certainty.

Ben had told us that he was staying at the hotel for one night to settle us in. Then he would return to Golden Creek and we were to follow later.

Over dinner that first evening in Melbourne he explained a great deal to us.

He said: “You will find life down at the Creek somewhat rough, although it has improved a great deal since I came here. I expect you are a little surprised by what you have seen of this town. Is it not a little more civilized than you were expecting?”

We all said that Melbourne appeared to be a very fine city indeed.

“Stretch your imagination a little and you might be in a provincial town in England, eh? Well, almost. They’ve worked wonders here. It’s all been happening since we got self-government.”

“But surely this is a colony?” said Gervaise.

“What I mean is separation from the rest of Australia. When you talk of us you say ‘The Colony of Victoria.’ That’s how we like it. The Queen of England granted us the right to separate ourselves and because of that we do her the honor of naming the colony after her. We’re Victoria and she is pleased. One day I’ll show you a cutting I have. I’ve kept it. It is a bit of history really. It’s from The Melbourne Herald. ‘Glorious news,’ it states, ‘Separation at last. We are an independent Colony.’ ”

“I should have thought,” I said, “that it would be better if you all stood together.”

Ben shook his head. “They are an independent people out here. Eighteen-fifty-one. That was the great year in the history of Victoria.”

“It’s the year we must have met,” I said involuntarily.

He smiled at me. “That is absolutely right. There was the Great Exhibition going on in Hyde Park. And I appeared out of the blue. Quite a shock for my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather is shock-proof.”

“He is a little like his grandson perhaps.”

The blue eyes were on me. Some understanding flashed between us. I knew he was thinking, as I was, of the man we had dragged into the pool.

He changed the subject abruptly.

“There’s a good deal of wealth round about Melbourne. You’ll see some really fine houses here. They’ve grown up since the Gold Rush. Those who got in first were the lucky ones.”

“What of you?” asked Justin.

“I’ve had a small share of the pickings, I’d say; but I haven’t struck the rich veins.”

“Do you think,” said Justin in some alarm, “that it has been worked out?”

Ben was silent for a moment. Then he said: “One can’t tell. There is no doubt that we have had gold in this part of the world. Whether it has been worked out is something we can’t be sure of. One thing we do know. It is not as easy as it was.”

“We did hear that you had a mine,” I said. “The Captain of the Royal Albert seemed to know a great deal about you.”

“Fame travels,” said Ben lightly. “What did he tell you about me?”

“That you were a sort of Peter Lalor.”

“Oh … our respected member of Parliament and the hero of the Eureka Stockade. I shouldn’t have thought we were alike. I have no intention of going into politics here.”

“He said you were a leader.”

Ben burst out laughing. “Lalor was a noble fellow. I don’t think I’d match him in that. He worked for the good of the community.”

“And for whose good do you work?”

“For the good of myself, of course.”

We all laughed.

He said: “I have arranged for places for you with Cobb’s. It’ll make traveling out to the Creek a little more comfortable than it would have been in the past.”

“Who are Cobb’s?”

“Mr. Cobb is from California. He came out here when there were so many people who wanted to get from the goldfields to the towns. His business extends all over Australia now. We are grateful to Mr. Cobb of California. He is a great boon to us all, I can assure you; and when you travel in one of his coaches and ask yourself how, without him, you would get from one place to another, you will be ready to sing his praises, too.”

“I don’t know what we should have done without you, Ben,” I said.

“You’d have managed. But you might have found it a bit roughgoing. It is better to have someone who knows the ropes to help you along.”

“Uncle Peter said you would do all you could for us.”

“Naturally I will,” he said, his blue eyes holding mine for a moment. He went on: “I shall be leaving tomorrow, so I shall be there when you arrive. I did think the ladies would want a little time to shop in Melbourne. There will be certain things you want to get. We’ve got one shop in the Creek. It sells most things, but there is not much choice. I’ve arranged places for you to live in … close to where the work goes on. You’ll have to stake your claim. I should advise you to go in together if that would suit you. You’ll be needing each other. It’s hard going, you know. But you’ll learn.” He looked at me intently. “You won’t find the place like Cador or my grandfather’s London residence.”

“We are prepared for inconveniences,” I said.

“That’s a good thing because you’ll get them.”

Gervaise said: “You have been most kind. We don’t know how to thank you.”

“When you strike gold you can give me a commission,” said Ben lightly.

“We certainly shall,” said Gervaise. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Very well, partner, but first find the gold.”

“We were told you have a mine and people work for you,” I said.

“That’s true.”

“Do you not … do the mining yourself?” asked Morwenna.

“I’m there every day. I know exactly what’s going on. I just have a few men to do the donkey work.”

I thought it was very exciting to be with him. He had that immense vitality which made one feel alive. I wondered if he had married. No one had said anything about a wife. I supposed there were not many women at Golden Creek. I might have asked him—but I did not.

We returned fairly early for it had been an exhausting day. Gervaise was elated.

He said: “It is all working out beautifully. This relation of yours … he really is quite a character.”

“Yes,” I said.

“One can believe all one has heard of him.”

“Do you like him, Gervaise?”

Gervaise was thoughtful. “I’m not sure,” he said at length. “He’d be a good friend. I imagine he could be quite ruthless. He must have been to have done what he did.”

“You mean the pool?”

“It would take some courage to do that … a cool sort of courage. Yes, I think he would be a good friend, but I should not care to provoke him.”

“Why?”

“As I said, I think he could be ruthless. But we’re here. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes, it is, Gervaise. It’s exciting. I like this place. I am sure they must have some good midwives here.”

He stared at me.

“I was thinking of Morwenna,” I said.

We had three days in Melbourne. Morwenna and I explored the town together. We shopped and bought clothes for the baby. There was a good supply and we were delighted. We discovered a hospital. I wanted to make inquiries about it but Morwenna said it was too soon.

Everywhere we went we were welcomed. The people here seemed to enjoy having visitors from Home which was how they regarded England. All the time they wanted to hear news of what was happening there and they told us how they lapped up everything they could hear and how irked they were because they could not get enough news. They were proud of their town but there was a certain detectable nostalgia in their voices when they talked of Home.

It is exciting to be in a city which is almost growing under one’s eyes. At home everything was so old. London had been the Londinium of the Romans; antiquity lurked in every corner; and Cornwall, with its legends and stories, memories of before the coming of Christianity to our islands, seemed ageless. But a few years ago there had been no buildings here. I tried to imagine what it would have looked like then, and failed. But after I had listened to some of the people, who were very ready to talk, and had read accounts of the first settlers, a picture began to form in my mind. I could see those settlers coming over from Van Diemen’s Land and how they must have been struck by the beauty of the scenery—the wild bushland and the oaks and eucalypti and the river, its bank covered with bright yellow flowers, flowing into the sea. That was in the year 1835, before I was born, but to these people it did not seem so long. There had been some aborigines here—dark men who regarded them with wonder and from whom they learned that the name of the river was the Yarra Yarra.

I could see myself arriving with those people, marveling at the colorful birds—red-crested black cockatoos, yellow-crested white ones, the gallahs and the laughing kookaburras—all of which I was looking forward to discovering.

I was excited, wondering what my life here would be like. Ben was never far from my thoughts. I wanted to talk to him, to hear of his adventures. I wanted to hear everything about this new country from him.

There were some fine houses. Gold had made the town rich. We were amused to find that the name of one of the nicest parts of the town was Richmond, so reminiscent of our own Richmond on the Thames. When I had been to London to visit the Exhibition and had first met Benedict we had been to Richmond together. We had gone down the river from Westminster Stairs. Grace had been with us but what I remembered most was laughing with Ben, talking with Ben and the pleasure of being with him.

Although I was on the other side of the world I felt at home. I could love this place; it excited me because it was different and yet not alien. People talked to us in shops over the baby linen and the stores which we thought we should take with us. Morwenna and I had agreed, though, that we should have to see what we needed first, which we could only do when we settled in; then we should have to pay other visits to Melbourne. These people were very anxious to tell us what a fine town they had; we heard of the theater which had been built; the fine shops which were springing up everywhere; the grand houses, and how the settlers had brought with them English manners and customs. They played cricket just as in England and recently, the All-England Eleven match had been played on the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Two thousand people had come to welcome the players from Home, and the match had gone on for four days.

It was just like home.

The men were impatient to be on the move and although I felt there was much more I wanted to see in Melbourne, I was eager to take the coach and set out for Golden Creek.

We took the Cobb’s Coach on the appointed day. It was a smart-looking vehicle, made in America, drawn by six sturdy horses and it carried seventy passengers.

Our purchases and baggage had been sent on to Golden Creek, so we had nothing to worry about.

It was a very interesting journey. We had a chance to see some of the fine houses which had been built in the environs of the town. Most of the builders had endeavored to produce an English country mansion.

At length we were out in the country. There were miles and miles of bush broken only by the occasional tall eucalyptus trees.

The days seemed long. I was rather anxious about Morwenna who was beginning to show signs of fatigue. There could be no possible doubt that she was fairly well advanced in her state. I prayed that all would go well with her. Whatever she said, as soon as we arrived, I was going to make inquiries as to what arrangements could be made for bringing children into the world.

There were two nights when we stayed at inns which were prepared for the periodic visits of the travelers and were referred to by some people as Cobb’s Houses. Conditions were primitive; the comforts of the city did not extend to these places.

“Never mind,” said Gervaise. “It is only for two nights. We didn’t expect luxury, did we?”

We were all eager now to reach Golden Creek.

Several people got off the coach. The rest were going on to other fields further on.

Ben was waiting for us.

He said: “I think you had better come first to my place. Then in the morning you can get down to business.”

I looked round me.

We had alighted in what could be called a street. There were a few buildings, mostly primitive. There was a shop. I supposed that was the one which sold everything; and about it the dwelling-places were like shacks. The pavement was a raised wooden platform. A number of people came running out of the shacks and the buildings at the arrival of the coach. There were several children, all shrieking and shouting, greeting some of the people who alighted.

“It’s a red letter day when the coach comes in,” Ben explained.

“Where are the goldfields?” asked Gervaise.

Ben waved his arm. “All about the town,” he said.

“You mean this place?”

“I’m sorry. I’m flattering it … calling it a town. The town of Golden Creek.”

“Is there a creek?”

“Certainly there is a creek. That is where it got its name.”

“Golden Creek,” murmured Justin.

“It deserved it once,” said Ben. “Let’s hope it will again. Come this way. It’s just along here … away from the street You can’t see the house because it’s surrounded by bush. I kept it that way. Privacy, you know.”

He led the way. “You’ll need horses,” he went on. “Can’t get on without them here. I have a big stable.”

“You are so good to us, Ben,” I said gratefully.

He laid his hand on my shoulder. “Now, whom should I be good to if not to my own little cousin Angel? I’m not sure if it is cousin but that seems to be a term used for these vague relationships.”

We walked with him and in a short time we came to a spot where the bushes grew thick. He led us through them and before us was a lawn and then … the house.

It was of white stone and looked elegant and dignified, and perhaps because it seemed so out of place, imperious.

“Behold Golden Hall,” said Ben.

“Is that what you called it?” I cried.

He nodded. “It was built out of gold. It’s here because of gold. So what more appropriate?”

“It is really amazing,” I said.

“You will find a lot to amaze you out here, I hope.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

“Well, come along in. They are prepared for you.”

“Who?” I asked quickly, and I felt a sudden fear that he was going to introduce us to his wife. I shouldn’t have minded, but I did.

“I have two people working for me with their family,” he explained. “Thomas and his wife, Meg; they have a son, Jacob, and a girl, Minnie. That is my staff. Thomas sold up everything to come out here to find gold. A familiar story.”

“So he didn’t find gold. He found the Golden Hall instead?” said Gervaise.

“That’s right. Many of them come out here with gold fever. They work frantically and perhaps they never have a find … and then they turn against it. They don’t want to hear another word about gold. They want to settle down to the steady life they had before they came. Thomas is like that. And his wife agrees with him. I don’t know about Jacob. He’s young yet. Perhaps he’ll catch gold fever one day and be off.”

“You seem to have found a pleasant niche for yourself here,” said Justin.

“The best of both worlds is the way I see it. I live like a squire but I have my mine and my hopes linger. One day I am going to find that rich vein of gold … and it will be such as was never found before.”

“And if you don’t?” I asked.

“I shall go on trying until I find it or they carry me off in my coffin … whichever comes first.”

“There is determination,” said Gervaise.

“A lesson to you,” I replied.

“Well, come along in. Meg will have a meal cooking and I’ll show you your rooms for the night. Then tomorrow … sharp … we’ll get down to business.”

The house was a replica of an English manor house. There were high ceilings and heavy oak beams.

Ben said to me: “I’ve tried to make it look like home.”

“It does,” I assured him.

We were taken into a drawing room. It had French windows opening onto a garden.

“Jacob tends that,” said Ben. “Thomas helps a little and Meg picks the flowers.”

“You must have thought of home often,” I mused, “to make it so like …”

“Often,” he assured me. “You should see your rooms now. Ah, here is Meg.”

She was a rotund comfortable-looking woman with rosy cheeks and rather wispy brown hair.

“Our visitors, Meg,” he said.

She nodded to us and said she would take us to our rooms. She hoped we’d be comfortable and if there was anything we wanted we should ask.

She took us up the wide staircase and there were our rooms. Gervaise and I gave a little gasp of pleasure as we went into ours. The light filtering through the blinds showed us the blue carpet and the covers to match, the cozy armchair, the writing desk and the alcove in which was a basin and ewer, there was a wardrobe and a dressing table with a swing-mirror on it.

“I’ll bring you hot water,” said Meg. “Dinner will be in about twenty minutes if you can make it.”

We assured her we could.

Gervaise looked at me. “This is more like it,” he said. “I haven’t seen anything like this since leaving home. I will say that Ben knows how to look after himself.”

Very soon we had washed and changed from our traveling clothes. We went down to the pleasant dining room which had windows similar to those in the drawing room but these looked on a well-kept garden to fields beyond.

I stood there looking out and Ben came to stand very close to me.

“That’s Morley country,” he said.

“Morley country?”

“My neighbor, James Morley. He owns a lot of land round here. I bought this patch from him to build my house on.”

“Did he make a fortune out of gold?”

“No. He’s been here for years. He came before the Rush and bought the land for next to nothing. He’s a farmer … a grazier … cattle and sheep. That’s his business and he has never deserted it for gold. He has done very well for himself, I can tell you. You’ll be sure to meet him sometime. Now we mustn’t let the food get cold or you will be in Meg’s bad books right at the start, I can tell you.”

It was a wonderful evening, to sit there listening to Ben. He did most of the talking. We just plied him with questions.

There was hot soup followed by thick steaks.

“People here have big appetites,” Ben told us. “It is the outdoor life.”

We made the acquaintance of Minnie, who came in to help her mother.

Ben talked about what lay ahead of us.

The following day he would take us to see the accommodation he had found for us.

“I don’t know how you ladies are going to like it,” he said. “It is primitive. But it is what they all have.”

“Except you,” I reminded him.

“Well, I decided to put my earnings into this house. That’s reasonable. They thought it was a bit crazy, I don’t doubt. The general idea is to strike it rich and move out.”

“And your intention was to stay?” asked Justin.

“Not I. When I have made the fortune I came out to find I shall go home. But it has to be a fortune. No little pickings for me. But in the meantime I want to make it comfortably. I have been thinking that you ladies ought to stay here.”

“Tell us about these places you have found for us,” said Morwenna.

“They are shacks really. It’s a shanty town. You saw some of them coming in.”

“It is good of you to suggest we stay here,” I said. “Thank you, Ben. But we shall have to be together … and do as the others do.”

He looked at me ruefully.

“So we are to live in two of those shacks …”

“The very same. At one time they were just in tents … and then they put up these shacks. They are in demand. I had to arrange a few details to get even them for you. There are two side by side. I think you would like that. They are furnished with a bed, a few chairs and a table. There is a small rental. There is a division making a bedroom and a living room and there is a little wash house at the back. You have to get your water from the well. Water is rather precious here. The man who owns the places is another retired from the gold hunt. He finds his business of letting more profitable.”

I looked anxiously at Morwenna and thought of her condition.

“I am sure we shall be all right,” she said bravely.

“Well, you ladies are welcome to stay here whenever you like.”

“It is so kind and thoughtful of you,” said Morwenna, “but we should want to be with our husbands.”

“Somehow I thought you might. It is what they would expect of you here.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The rest of the community.” Ben frowned. “You see, you are all living close together. They would want you to be as they are. They’re a mixed lot … all sorts and conditions. Some are quite aristocratic … others … well, definitely not. You have to mix with them. There is a certain code. We don’t want trouble in the township. We have to keep a sharp look out for that sort of thing.”

“What is there?” asked Gervaise. “Some sort of vigilante?”

“You could say that. Well, you will see soon enough how it works. Now tomorrow you will want to see about your claim. What you will buy will be your piece of land. I daresay you will want to work it together. I should think that was the best thing to do. The Mandeville-Cartwright Plot. You’ll need two of you in any case. Well, we shall see.”

“I can’t wait to start digging,” said Gervaise.

Ben gave him a strange look. I knew he was finding it difficult to imagine Gervaise as a miner.

That night I slept peacefully in the luxurious bed and I awoke early. I could not stay in bed so I left Gervaise there and went into the alcove and washed; and then went downstairs.

I found my way to the dining room, opened the French windows and stepped out.

The early morning air was delightfully fresh. I stood there looking out over the garden to what Ben had called Morley country.

I was thinking of a man who had come out here and bought up the land cheaply and started by grazing his sheep and cattle, unperturbed by the desire to make an easy fortune.

There was a step beside me and I was startled out of my reverie.

It was Ben.

“Taking the air?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good, eh?”

I agreed that it was.

“Are you going to like it here, Angel?”

“Isn’t it rather too soon to say?”

“Yes. You are going to find it rough, you know. Perhaps I should have given you more warning.”

“We didn’t think we were coming out to a place with myriads of servants to wait on us, you know.”

“Even so … Well, remember, there is always room for you at the Hall here if it gets too much for you.”

“We shall have to live like the others.”

“Just at the moment, perhaps.”

Justin came out to join us. He looked fresh and rested. Ben asked him if he had had a good night and he replied that he had indeed. He was all ready now to start on the enterprise.

We went in to breakfast.

That day was one of great activity and discovery. In spite of Ben’s warnings, Morwenna and I were a little taken aback at the sight of our new homes. Shack was an apt description. I could not quite see my elegant Gervaise fitting into such surroundings; but with the lust for gold on him, he made no complaint. This was going to be the greatest gamble of all.

There was a great deal of business to be done; and the men went off to choose their plot which they did with Ben’s help; and then they staked their claim. This took some time and while they were doing it, Morwenna and I made a minute examination of our new homes. When we had recovered from the initial dismay, we began to make plans for them. We decided that we could make them more attractive with perhaps a pretty curtain at the window and a few cushions. We looked at the township, which did not take us very long for it was just one street with its wooden platform serving as a sidewalk, and the rest was scattered shacks rather like our own. We discovered the wells. There were two. We went to the store and were helped by a certain Mrs. Bowles, who ran it with her husband—two more who, I garnered, had given up the search for gold and settled for work which, while it might not bring the ultimate reward, gave them a steady living. She was very friendly and advised us as to what we should need. She was talkative and, as with most people, she was more interested in herself than in others: and once she had satisfied herself as to what part of the Old Country we had come from—no need to ask for what purpose—she was satisfied. She told us that her husband, Arthur, had come out to find gold.

She gave me a little nudge. “These nuggets the size of your fist don’t grow on trees. It’s one in a million that finds them. After we’d gone three months without finding more than a few specks, I said to Arthur, ‘Enough’s enough. What they want here is a good store … and that’s what we are giving them.’ ”

She told us that at home she had been a midwife. I was delighted. I looked significantly at Morwenna.

“Not enough babies born here to make it a profession,” she said. “So I do it in-between-like. When I’m called Arthur or one of the women will see to the shop. It works.”

We said nothing about Morwenna’s condition then, but at least we knew there was an experienced woman close by. It was comforting.

During the next few days I learned a little about what life would be like here for Morwenna and me. We should be busy in the house. We had to cook which meant keeping a fire going in the outhouse-type kitchen. We had to get water from the well. We had to be ready to buy meat early in the morning, so that we got it before the flies did. We could not keep it but had to cook it immediately. It seemed that we—who had never done any domestic work in our lives—had a good deal to learn.

So had the men.

Ben explained to us that much of the gold to be found now was deep in the earth. That near the surface had already been mined. It would be found in channels which they called leads—and we must follow them. This could mean digging down to perhaps one hundred feet. It had been easier in the beginning when the leads had been close to the surface of the earth.

Shafts had to be sunk through the clay and gravel; and these shafts had to be timbered as there was a danger of the earth’s falling in and burying the miners alive.

Great heaps of what they called mullock—the earth which had been dug up—made hillocks at the sides of the mine shafts.

“Windlasses used to be placed on top of these,” said Ben, “but that was simply not good enough for deep sinking. There have to be men down in the mine digging and filling buckets with earth; these are drawn up by winding the windlasses. Then the soil has to be panned in the stream to see if it contains the magic metal.”

Neither Gervaise nor Justin lost any of their enthusiasm at the prospect of so much hard work. This was a gamble and I had come to realize that for Gervaise there was nothing in life which he found so irresistible.

They were out all day and came back to the shacks exhausted. Morwenna and I cooked the steaks for them in the open fire in our kitchens and we learned how to make dampers. There was beer to drink for we had a saloon run by another of the disillusioned miners.

A week passed and I was surprised how much had been accomplished and how quickly we accepted our way of life.

I had glimpsed Ben now and then. He always seemed pleased to see me. He called at the shack one day and asked if Morwenna and I would ride with him. He thought we ought to see something of the countryside. He had seen Gervaise and Justin that morning and they were hard at it. He grinned.

“They can’t stop working,” he said. “It’s always the way when people first come out. They are afraid to lose a minute because that might be the one minute when they find the six-hundred-ounce nugget. I told them I was going to call on you ladies and suggest I take you for a ride round.”

I said I should enjoy it and I thought Morwenna would too.

We found Morwenna lying down. She was having one of her bouts of sickness.

“Then it will be just the two of us,” said Ben. “Come on. I’ll find a horse for you.”

He had a sizable stable; he chose a mare which he thought would be suitable for me and saddled her.

“She’s yours,” he said, “for as long as you are here.”

“You are so generous.”

“What! To my old friend?”

I smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re here, Ben. I think I should be a little uneasy if you weren’t.”

“No need to think of that. I’m here. And here I stay.”

“Till you find your fortune.”

“That’s right. How’s that? Comfortable?”

“Very.”

“She’s a good old stager, aren’t you, Foxey?”

“Foxey! Is that her name?”

“Yes. She’s that reddish color and there’s a look of a fox about her … or there was when she was born. She’s a nice easygoing old thing.”

“You mean she’s sober and suitable for a greenhorn?”

“Exactly. You don’t want a wild thing when you are new to a country. This isn’t like home, you know. It’s all shrub for miles and miles. You could lose yourself here and wander round and round in circles. Now Foxey likes her home here in the stables and I wouldn’t mind taking a bet that if you were lost, she’d bring you back.”

We rode away from the township.

“This is like old times,” he said. “Remember how we used to ride together when I came to Cador?”

“Yes. Ben … do you ever think of …”

“You mean all that by the pool?”

“Yes,” I said. “It haunts me even now.”

“It is all over and done with.”

“I can’t forget what we did, Ben.”

“I know.”

“Does it still haunt you?”

“Not much.”

“In a way we killed him.”

He looked at me in amazement. “He fell and hit his head on a stone. That was what killed him. It was a good thing. He wouldn’t be able to murder any more innocent little girls.”

“But we … disposed of him.”

“Hm. Perhaps we should have left him there on the grass and reported it. That would have been the right thing to do, I suppose.”

“Yes, Ben, I wish we had.”

“There would have been a lot of questions. It would have been horrible for you … for me, too. No, what happened was best. He would have been hanged in any case.”

“I tell myself that.”

“My dear Angelet. I believe it has worried you terribly.”

“And you?”

“I don’t think about it. It happened. I knocked him down and he struck his head on a stone. It killed him. We put him in that pool. That finished it.”

“I wish I had felt like that.”

“My dear Angel, it was easier for me. I was not nearly raped and murdered. You were the one who suffered that nightmare.”

He had pulled up and was looking at me.

“It has been on your mind all this time. Oh, you poor little Angel.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I wish I’d known. I would have come to comfort you and made you see it as I did.”

“All the way from Australia?”

He looked at me solemnly. “From the ends of the Earth,” he said.

“Well, it would have been from the other side.”

We laughed and he said: “You don’t still feel guilty, do you?”

“I feel better and better. Seeing you helps.”

“I’m so glad you have come, Angel. I’ve thought a lot about you.”

“You mean because of that man?”

“No … not only that … though it was quite something to share together, wasn’t it? But there were other things … our rides … our talks. Do you remember how we used to go to the moor, tie up our horses and lie on the grass and talk?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Such happy times. Memorable times. I shall never forget them. We must go riding like this … often, Angel.”

“We shall both have work to do.”

“We’ll find time. Come on.”

He started to gallop and I went after him.

Suddenly he pulled up. “Look at all this,” he said. “Fine grazing land. Morley territory … miles and miles of it.”

“He doesn’t put fences round to keep people out.”

That made Ben laugh. “My dear Angelet, he couldn’t do it if he wanted to. It’s too vast. As long as we don’t steal his sheep we’re welcome here. Look at this place. We could tie up our horses on that bush, and we could sit and talk as we used to. It brings back our youth, doesn’t it?”

“A good idea.”

And it was just as it had been all those years ago on Bodmin Moor.

“I always remembered the tale you told me of the men who found gold in the tin mine and how they left a portion of the profits to those weird little men … who were they?”

“The knackers.”

“I remembered that when I heard there was gold here … in Australia. Well, I shan’t be looking for gold in a tin mine, but in a far more likely place.”

He plucked a blade of grass and looked at it. “Not as green as the variety we get at home,” he said. “Are you homesick?”

“For Cador perhaps and my parents. But this is a new life and Gervaise is here … and Morwenna …”

“So you feel you have a little bit of home around you?”

“I suppose that’s so. Tell me about the Morleys and the man I have heard called Bruin.”

He laughed. “Bruin? That’s Robin Bears actually. We’re lucky to have him here. He’s invaluable to me … and to all here. I think they know it. He is always called Bruin … due to his name of course. And he looks like a bear.”

“Is he one of the diggers?”

“Yes. But he has other duties. He was a prizefighter back home … quite a renowned one. He killed a man in the ring and after that he never wanted to box again. So he came out here to make his fortune. There was some difficulty about his claim and I was able to sort it out for him. I did very little really, but he thought it was a great deal. He is a simple man and the sight of that piece of paper with writing on it terrified him. I showed him where to put his mark and he thought I was some sort of magician. He now has his stake here; and I had an idea that he could help to keep order. You’ll have to understand about that, Angel … all of you will. This isn’t home. We have some rough characters here and we have to make the laws.”

“I know. You did tell me that.”

“You see here we have this closely knit community … most of us bent on one thing: finding that amount of gold which is going to make us rich overnight. It’s a dangerous situation.”

“You mean theft?”

“I mean that among other things. There are some women here … but more men. When I see some of the men’s eyes on the women, I am watchful. I have to be. We can’t have trouble in the township. We have to make sure of some law and order.”

“Why you, Ben?”

“Because I have a lot to lose, I daresay. In any case, all of those who want peace while they get on with their work are with me. We can’t set up courts of law. We’d have the government after us … and the government doesn’t want to be troubled with petty squabbles on a gold mining estate. They would like to see the whole thing dispersed and the men going back to working in the towns … and then perhaps the government would organize a search for gold. We don’t want that. But we have to keep law and order going. This is where Bruin comes in. If any man is found guilty of a sin against the community, Bruin issues a challenge. He demands they come and meet him in the ring. He then proceeds to punish them in accordance with their sin. It works. No one wants to face up to a pummeling from Bruin.”

“What an extraordinary way of meting out justice!”

“It works. Things have to be a bit unconventional here, you know. But you’ll like Bruin. He’s quite … unusual. He is well over six feet tall; his nose was broken in a fight and it has flattened it somewhat; he’s got what they call a cauliflower ear; but he has the most innocent pair of wide blue eyes that you ever saw. They reflect his innocence. He is naive; he is almost child-like. But you must like Bruin.”

“I feel sure I shall. Now tell me about the Morleys.”

“I am arranging for you to meet them very soon. I have told James about you. He wants you to go up to the house. He’s glad you’re here. He thinks Lizzie might find suitable friends in you and Mrs. Cartwright.”

“Lizzie? It’s the first time I’ve heard of her.”

“Lizzie is his daughter … the apple of his eye.”

“Is there a Mrs. Morley?”

“Not now. She died. There are only old Morley and Lizzie. I’ll show you their house. It’s quite grand in its way. You see, we do have some beautiful houses here.”

“I know. I saw some in Melbourne.”

“Built by the gold millionaires mostly.”

“It is amazing how everyone wants to be rich.”

“Of course they do. Riches mean power, and power I suppose is one of the most desirable objects on earth … men being what they are.”

“You want that don’t you, Ben?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“And when you have it what will you do with it?”

“I shall see what my immediate needs are.”

“And then you will gratify them?”

“If it is possible, yes.”

“Power … money … they cannot give you everything.”

He looked at me steadily and said: “There are things above them, I know. But you must admit they provide a good deal. Are you happy, Angel?”

“Happy … why yes.”

“Your Gervaise … he is a charming fellow.”

“Yes, he is. He was so wonderful when I told him … about the pool. He made me see it differently. I haven’t worried so much since then.”

“Good. Sounds sensible. And Justin Cartwright? What of him?”

“Oh, he and Morwenna had a romantic match. She ran away with him to Gretna Green. They gave us a shock at the time but that’s over now. I am worried about her though, Ben. She is going to have a baby.”

“Good Heavens! When?”

“In about four months or so I should think. I am anxious about her being here.”

“There is a midwife. She runs the store.”

“I know. I’ve met her. Is she good?”

“I think so. It is a pity Mrs. Cartwright came out. It would have been better for her to have had the child at home … and perhaps come out later.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t have wanted to do that. She knew she was going to have the child before she came. But she didn’t say anything because she thought it would upset everyone. Morwenna is like that. She is completely unselfish.”

“Well, Mrs. Bowles is quite good.”

“I do hope it will be all right.”

“Lizzie Morley was born out here. And there have been others. From what I gathered it was touch and go with Lizzie. Old Morley had been a farmer at home and was down on his luck when he heard how cheap land was going out here … some of it given away. He was obsessed by the idea. He’s told me the story many times. He was a tenant farmer and he had always wanted his own place. He and Alice had been married for some years. There were no children. She was almost forty at the time and had given up hope of ever having any. So they sold up and came out here. Alice wasn’t so keen to come. She was a home lover and home to her was England. Some people are like that, you know. They pine away for the sight of home. They hate the droughts here and they hate the heat; and it can be cold in this part, too. They hate the glare of the sun and they think of misty days and cool sunshine and the blessed rain. They pine away. Alice wasn’t as bad as that and naturally she wanted to be where her husband was and she made a home for him in this country.”

“What of Lizzie?”

“Oh, Lizzie wasn’t born then. I don’t know what it was … the Australian air … the change of everything … who can say? They settled in, bought their bit of land with their savings. It was true, the government here was almost giving it away. They wanted settlers of James Morley’s kind … good, steady, hard-working people, mingling with the convict stock which had come out in the first place. Everything seemed to be working well … and then Alice was going to have a child.”

“They must have been delighted.”

“They were. It was just what they needed.”

“What happened?”

“Alice was no longer young, as I told you. She was turned forty actually. There was misgiving. Everyone was saying she was too old to have children. But she came through, and there was general rejoicing when Lizzie was born. They adored the child. I heard all this when I came here. You can’t keep secrets living close as we do. I think Alice had a fall when she was holding the child. I don’t know whether it was that or not. No one does. But Lizzie didn’t grow up quite like other girls.”

“You mean she is crippled?”

“Oh no … not crippled. It’s just that she is a little … simple. She’s practical enough. She nursed her mother when she was ill. But there is a kind of innocence about her as though she hasn’t really grown up. She is a sweet girl. People are fond of her. She is good and gentle … but a little childish. She was wonderful looking after her mother. That was very sad. Alice was very ill for some months. This happened when Lizzie was in her early teens. It was some sort of growth. There was no hope really. There wouldn’t have been even if they had been at home, but you can imagine what it was like here. It was a very painful death and Lizzie nursed her mother throughout. She died and there were only the two of them. Poor James. He was heartbroken. He turned all his affection to Lizzie. He was already doing very well at that time. He had worked hard and it was beginning to show results. Lizzie was a good housekeeper. It was just that she was slow. He sent to England for a governess for her who taught her to read and write. The governess said she was a dear girl but she just could not teach her much beyond that. But she could sew, do the garden and she looked after her father’s comforts wonderfully. If you are kind to Lizzie she repays with genuine affection.”

“She sounds a very nice person.”

“Nice yes, that’s Lizzie. It’s a shame that she is as she is.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

“It will be arranged. What about now? Why don’t we call on our way back?”

“I’d like that.”

“It’s pleasant here. I’d like to stay for a long time … talking to you.”

“I like it too, Ben.”

He looked at me and smiled and for a time neither of us spoke.

I felt a little uneasy. Ben was so often in my thoughts. I rose and said: “Yes, I do want to see Lizzie and her father and if we are going to do that today we should be going now.”

I went to Foxey and mounted her. We rode off in silence for Ben was thoughtful, too.

The Morley house was quite large. It had been built in the mock-Gothic style so fashionable at home. It gave an impression of solidity. It was surrounded by gardens which had obviously been very carefully tended, and as we rode up to the house I saw a girl with a basket on her arm; she had been snipping the dead flowers from the bushes.

“It’s Lizzie,” cried Ben. “Lizzie, come and meet Mrs. Mandeville.”

Lizzie gave a little cry of pleasure and came towards me. Some of the dead flowerheads fell from the basket. She paused and looked at them as though puzzling as to whether she should pick them up or come on to us.

“You can pick those up later,” said Ben. “First come and meet our new friend.”

She nodded as though pleased to have the problem solved for her; she came towards us smiling.

She had the face of a young child, quite unlined, wide blue eyes and sleek fair hair in a plait which was wound round her head.

Ben took her hand and she gave him a smile of contentment as though she were very glad to see him.

“Mrs. Mandeville … Angelet,” he said.

“Angelet,” she repeated after him.

“And, Angelet, this is Lizzie about whom I have told you.”

I took her hand and she gave me that rather lovely innocent smile.

“Is your father at home, Lizzie?” asked Ben.

She nodded.

“Perhaps we could all go and see him, eh? Ah, here is Mrs. Wilder.”

Mrs. Wilder, a rather stern-faced woman in, I imagined, her late thirties, had emerged from the house and was coming towards us.

“Good day, Mrs. Wilder,” said Ben. “This is Mrs. Mandeville. I was telling you and Mr. Morley about the new arrivals, you remember.”

“Of course, Mr. Lansdon,” said Mrs. Wilder. “Welcome to Golden Creek, Mrs. Mandeville. Mr. Morley will be delighted to see you. Do come in.”

I had not heard of Mrs. Wilder before but I guessed by the manner in which she went to Lizzie and took her arm that she was a sort of housekeeper or companion to Lizzie.

“Lizzie has been wanting to meet you,” said Mrs. Wilder. “Haven’t you, Lizzie?”

“Oh yes … yes,” said Lizzie.

Her candid gaze met mine and I returned her smile.

We were taken into a hall. It was hung with prints of horses mostly. There was a heavy oak chest over which was an ornate mirror in a heavy brass frame. Mrs. Wilder knocked at a door and called out: “Visitors, Mr. Morley. Mr. Lansdon has brought Mrs. Mandeville.”

“Come along in,” called a voice.

We went into a room which seemed full of heavy furniture. On the mantelshelf where there were many ornaments was a daguerreotype picture of a woman in a tight black bodice and a voluminous skirt. Her hair was drawn down at the sides of her face to a knot at the back and I could see in her a faint resemblance to Lizzie. I guessed this was Alice Morley, for the picture had pride of place among the vases.

In a big armchair, a table beside him, on which stood a glass of ale, sat James Morley.

“Hello, James,” said Ben. “I’ve brought one of our newcomers to meet you. This is Mrs. Mandeville.”

He was about to make a great effort and rise, but Ben stopped him. “Don’t get up, James. Mrs. Mandeville understands.”

“I’m a bit stiff in my joints these days,” said James Morley. “But welcome to Golden Creek. I’m glad to see you.”

“Do sit down,” said Mrs. Wilder. “I daresay you would like some refreshment. Wine … or ale …”

We both agreed that we would like a little wine and Mrs. Wilder went away to get it.

“Now,” said James Morley. “What do you think of Golden Creek?”

Ben laughed.

“A difficult question for Mrs. Mandeville to answer politely, James. She has just come from fashionable London.”

“A little different here, eh?”

I said that indeed it was but that I was finding Golden Creek very interesting.

“People come and go. I should never have come …” He looked at the picture on the mantelshelf.

Ben said quickly: “We could all say that at times.” He turned to me. “Mr. Morley has one of the most prosperous properties in Victoria.”

His eyes brightened a little at that. “Good grazing land,” he said. “I was one of the lucky ones. I was here before the others came. Why, when I first came here there wasn’t a homestead for a good many miles.”

The wine had arrived and Mrs. Wilder served it.

“We met Lizzie doing something with the flowers,” said Ben.

“Lizzie’s always doing something with the flowers,” said her father indulgently. “Aren’t you, Lizzie?”

The girl nodded, smiling happily.

“And she’s done wonders with them, too, hasn’t she, Mrs. Wilder?”

“I never thought,” said Mrs. Wilder, “to see them grow as they do. You have green fingers, Lizzie.”

Lizzie laughed happily.

“So you’re out here to find gold, Mrs. Mandeville,” said James Morley.

“Yes,” I said, “and that seems to be the usual reason why people are here.”

“A wild goose chase, I reckon.”

“But some people catch the goose,” added Ben.

James Morley looked at him and cocked his eye on one side. “And if anyone’s going to do that, I’ll lay a sovereign it’ll be you, Ben Lansdon.”

“It is what I intend,” said Ben.

“The quest for gold,” said the old man. “If only we were content with what we’ve got and didn’t go stretching out for more.”

“The world would just stand still,” said Ben. “Now, James, we’ve had this argument before.” He turned to me. “James thinks I ought to go in for grazing. He reckons it’s the sensible thing to do.”

“Well, look how it’s turned out for me. Look at my land … and who’s to say I’ve finished yet. There’s money in sheep. There’s money in cattle. I reckon I’ve got the finest house here … barring none.”

“Well, mine is not exactly a hovel,” said Ben. “Bear me out, Angel, Mrs. Wilder, Lizzie …”

Lizzie laughed. “It is a lovely house,” she said. I saw her father’s eyes on her. They were fond and a little sad.

“Tell me,” went on James Morley, “what is happening in London. We don’t get much news out here.”

I tried to think of what had happened. England seemed far away. I told him of the death of the Prince Consort and how sad the Queen was; then I wished I hadn’t because I saw him look at the picture on the mantelshelf.

I searched my mind. There had been trouble with the cotton workers in Lancashire. Not a very pleasant topic. The Prince of Wales was going to marry Princess Alexandra of Denmark and there was Civil War in America.

It all sounded very remote. So I told them about our journey and the ports we had visited. Then I said: “Morwenna … Mrs. Cartwright … would love to visit you. She would have been with me this morning but in fact she was not feeling very well. She is going to have a baby.”

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I love little babies.”

“Well,” I said. “You will be able to see Morwenna’s.”

Mrs. Wilder said: “Not very many babies are born out here. Has Mrs. Cartwright seen Mrs. Bowles yet?”

“No … not yet.”

“I think she should. I know a little about nursing … not very much. But I did look after my husband for several years. Babies are not my line. It’s more general nursing.”

“I’ll tell Morwenna. You will like her.”

“Morwenna …” repeated Lizzie.

“Yes. Isn’t it a pretty name, Lizzie? Is it Cornish?” asked Mrs. Wilder.

“Yes. Morwenna is Cornish. So am I partly. My grandfather was Cornish. We have a house there.”

“A wonderful place,” said Ben. “It has stood there for hundreds of years. You must tell Lizzie all about it.”

“Oh yes, please,” said Lizzie clasping her hands and smiling.

I noticed how pleased her father looked and when we rose to go he took my hand and pressed it warmly.

“Come again,” he said. “There will be a welcome for you at Morley House.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I am so pleased we called in.”

Mrs. Wilder and Lizzie walked with us to the stables to get our horses. They stood waving as we rode away.

Ben said: “You see how it is with Lizzie.”

“They seemed to treat her like a child.”

“She is a child in a way. She is not dull. It is just that she has never really grown up.”

“Who is Mrs. Wilder?”

“She is the indispensable one. She came to the place when her husband died. Another casualty of the mines. He was half suffocated down there and after they brought him up he was never the same again. When James’s wife died he was always looking round for someone to look after the servants and to be a surrogate mother to Lizzie. Mrs. Wilder came … She’s been there ever since.”

“She seems very efficient.”

“Morley is lucky. So is Mrs. Wilder. It is a good post for her and she fills it admirably. She gets on wonderfully well with Lizzie.”

“I could see that Lizzie is fond of her.”

“My dear Angelet, Lizzie loves the whole world. She thinks everyone is as good and kind as herself. Sometimes I think people like Lizzie are the lucky ones. They think the world is a beautiful place. They are happy.” He looked at me steadily. “It is because they never reach out for the impossible.”

I felt there was some deep meaning behind his words and they made me uneasy.

After the first two or three weeks at Golden Creek time began to fly past. The days were so full. We had to clean the shacks and try to bring a little homely comfort to them, which was not easy. Neither Morwenna nor I was accustomed to housework; moreover we had to cook. We took this in turns—sometimes the four of us eating in their shack, at others in ours.

Both Gervaise and Justin—perhaps even less accustomed to the sort of work they were doing than we were—were exhausted at the end of the day. I used to wonder how long they would stay here. I could sense a growing disillusionment. I mentioned this to Gervaise when we lay in our narrow uncomfortable bed, too tired almost even to talk and just doing so in sleepy sentences.

“Gervaise,” I said, “why don’t we go home?”

“To all those debts?”

“We’d do something. How can you go on digging … endlessly tipping those cradles into the stream … looking in vain.”

“It won’t always be in vain. If I left … and the very next day they found gold I should never forgive myself.”

I understand what kept all these men going. Not yesterday … not today … but tomorrow.

There was a similarity between Gervaise, Justin and all these men around us. It was the lust for gold. Ben had it, too. It was only a few like Arthur Bowles and James Morley who had turned their backs on what I thought of as the Golden Goddess and when I considered those two I sensed a certain serenity about them which the others lacked.

When I became used to this way of life, I found I could do what I had to do in the house and enjoy a little leisure. I began to know the people. Ben had been right when he said there were all sorts and conditions. There was Peter Callender, of whom it was whispered that he sported a title back in the Old Country. He never used it here; that would have been frowned on; but his manners and speech betrayed him as what they called “one of the nobs.” He was always gallant to the women and displayed an easygoing nonchalance, but he worked on his patch as fervently as the rest.

In contrast there was David Skelling, a weasel-like cockney, who, it was said, had worked his term and settled. What crime he had committed no one knew. There were several like him. Backgrounds were never inquired into. There were certain conventions in the township and that was one of them.

There was the Higgins family—father, mother and two sons; they worked like maniacs and I heard that a year ago they struck quite a little haul. They ought to have left when they did, but they wanted more.

And of course I made the acquaintance of Bruin. I liked him. As with Lizzie, there was something child-like and trusting about him. He had the gold fever too. I was surprised really because I should never have thought he was an ambitious man.

He was not a great talker. Almost everything I learned about him had to be squeezed out of him by relentless questioning.

“Do you never miss England, Bruin?” I asked.

His battered face creased into an almost tender smile. “Well, Missus, I wouldn’t say yes and I wouldn’t say no.”

“Well, what would you say, Bruin?”

Then he laughed and said: “You are a caution.”

It was a favorite saying of his. I believe he had quickly summed me up as being that, whatever it was, and he was going to stick to his deduction. I hoped it was meant to be some sort of compliment.

“When did you discover you were a fighter, Bruin?” I asked.

“Oh … er … a long time ago.”

“When you were eight … ten?”

“Aye,” he said. “Aye.”

“And did someone find out and make you start?”

“Reckon.”

“You had to learn, of course.”

He grinned, looking down at his fist, clenching it and taking a punch at an imaginary opponent.

“I believe it is a sport enjoyed by royalty. The Prince Regent, I have heard, was very enthusiastic about it in his day.”

He was silent. I was sure he was looking back in the past. Then suddenly his face puckered and I guessed he was thinking of the man he had killed in the ring. It was easy to sense his emotions because he was too guileless to hide them.

“Tell me how you came out to Australia, Bruin,” I asked, changing the subject and I hoped diverting his thoughts.

“On a ship.”

“Of course. But why?”

“Gold,” he said. “Mr. Ben … he was good to me.” His face expressed a kind of adoration. He looked upon Ben as above ordinary mortals.

Ben came into our conversation quite frequently. I realized that was one of the reasons why I liked talking to Bruin.

Gradually I drew from him how Ben had sorted out his papers. He could not make head nor tail of them. He had thought he would have to go back home because he could never understand the papers.

“Then just like that,” he said snapping his fingers, “Mr. Ben … he said ‘You put a cross here, Bruin,’ he said, and I staked me claim … just like that.”

I liked to see his face light up with appreciation for Ben. In fact Ben was hardly ever out of my thoughts. That was understandable. He stood out in the community. He was different from the rest; and oddly enough, although they insisted on a certain conformity and Peter Callender with his title was supposed to mean no more to them than David Skelling with his questionable background, they did realize that Ben was different.

Ben had acted unconventionally. He had had a good strike. It was not a major one but it had made him comparatively rich; it had been enough for him to build a grand house in Melbourne and live like the gentleman he obviously was … or go Home. But what did he do? He built a house here … near the township; he had his own mine with men to work for him. Moreover he had set himself up as a sort of guardian of the township. Yes, there was something different about Ben.

They respected him. Moreover they felt he was necessary to the smooth running of the township. He kept a certain order and with such a motley crowd that was no small matter.

Morwenna’s time was getting near. Mrs. Bowles had seen her and had told her that she seemed to be in good health and she was sure that every thing would go as it should.

“Mind you,” she said to me, “she’s a lady and having children’s not so easy with them sort.”

“Why ever not?” I demanded.

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the Almighty. I reckon it’s because they’ve been too well looked after all their lives.”

“You do think she’ll be all right?”

“Right as a trivet. I’ll see to that.”

I was growing anxious and I spoke to Ben about it. He said: “When the time arrives she must stay at Golden Hall.”

“Oh thanks, Ben. I’ll tell her.”

“I shall insist. At least she will be comfortable there. And, Angel, you’d better come with her. She’ll want you nearby, I daresay.”

I felt excited at the prospect. Naturally I wanted to be with Morwenna, and at the same time I should enjoy being in Ben’s house.

It was summer and the days were very hot, although the temperature could change abruptly—and even though it would be what we called warm in England, it seemed cool after the excessive heat. The flies were a pest. They seemed to take a malicious delight in tormenting us and the more one brushed them away the more persistently they came back. I thought longingly of home. It would be winter there now. I remembered evenings at Uncle Peter’s, those dinner parties with Matthew and his political acquaintances, talking interestedly of affairs round the dinner table. I pictured my parents at Cador and an almost unbearable nostalgia beset me.

I think at that time I was beginning to fall out of love with Gervaise. He had changed, and although he was easygoing and never lost his temper, I could no longer see the elegant young man whom I had married; he was often unkempt—he who had always been so elegantly attired; this arduous labor was something he had never done before. I believe he had fancied he could come out, dig up a little soil and then … Eureka! … there was the precious shining fortune in his panning cradle.

It was not like that.

But I still saw the gleam in his eyes … that feverish desire to gamble which had already cost us our comfortable and civilized existence.

And there was Ben. He worked as hard as any of them. He was at his mine most of the day … supervising, watching, organizing, giving orders. But he retained the calm reassurance which I had noticed when he first came to Cador. He did not change.

When I saw the conditions in which most of them lived, I realized what he had done for us. We had thought our shacks very humble dwellings, but they were a great improvement on most of the others. He had put rugs on the wooden floors; he had had adequate bed linen sent for us. We owed a great deal to him.

He called in frequently at the shack. He would look at me anxiously and ask if I was all right. We were lucky to have him as our friend.

Gervaise and Justin were working hard, spurred on by the thought that one day they were going to find what was called in the township a “jeweler’s shop.” They did have one or two small finds which made them hilariously merry, because it was an indication that there was a possibility of finding more in that spot. Some diggers had found not a sign of the precious metal in their land, which must have been very depressing.

There had been great rejoicing the first night they had found their ounce of gold. There were a few men in the township who played cards, sometimes in one of the shacks, but mostly in the saloon. Gervaise, of course, had joined them; and I felt that he had learned nothing from all that had happened. He quickly lost all that little find had brought him. Not so Justin; he played and won a little. I began to think that Justin was as confirmed a gambler as Gervaise, but a luckier one.

I did not understand Justin very much. Morwenna was devoted to him and she talked frequently of his virtues. She was so lucky that he had chosen her, she said. She often marveled at it. But then she had been one of the most self-effacing people I had ever known. She had come to believe that she was not attractive and her coming out had seemed to confirm this. I had always tried to tell her that if she cast off that feeling of inferiority and behaved as though she were not so concerned as to whether people liked her or not, they would certainly realize that she was a very charming girl indeed. However Justin had apparently seen her worth and she was eternally grateful to him for that.

I did get the impression sometimes that there was a certain secretiveness about his past. All we knew of him was that he had been in America and had come to England to “see what he would do”; he had a small private income which enabled him to “look around.” Well, he had cast his eyes on the goldfields of Australia. I wondered whether he was already regretting that.

One day when I was alone in our shack I was surprised to see him for usually he was working at the mine at this time.

He said: “I’m on my way to the Bowleses’ to get some stores. But I wanted to have a word with you, Angelet. Are you busy?”

“Of course not. What did you want to say to me? Do sit down.”

He sat on one of the stout wooden chairs which had come to us through Ben’s generosity.

“I’m worried about Morwenna,” he said.

“You mean having the baby … here?”

He nodded. “I don’t think she is very strong.”

“She’s stronger than she appears to be,” I soothed him. “And Mrs. Bowles who is supposed to know about these things says everything is all right.”

“Angelet, you will be with her.”

“Of course. It is good of Ben Lansdon to have offered us rooms in his house. It will be much more comfortable there.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Oh, Angelet, I want it to be over … I long for our son to be born.”

“It may not be a son.”

“No, I hope it will but what I want is for Morwenna to be all right. If she comes through this I shall think very seriously about taking her and the child home.”

“I think it may be in Gervaise’s mind too,” I said.

“You are always hoping … Next day will come the big find … and if you went back for the rest of your life you’d be thinking, ‘What did I miss?’ ”

“I know. But you could go on through your life thinking of missed opportunities.”

“It’s true. But when the child is born … I shall seriously think of leaving. I feel this is not the place in which a child should be brought up. Do you agree, Angelet?”

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

“And all that housework you and Morwenna do … It is not what you are accustomed to.”

“We are getting accustomed.”

He was thoughtful. Then he said: “If this works out, I’ll go and do something. I’ll change, Angelet, I will, I will.”

I looked at him questioningly. He saw my intentness and he laughed suddenly. “I’m a bit overwrought,” he said. “I’m worried about Morwenna. Angelet, promise me you will be with her.”

“All the time … if they’ll let me. Don’t worry, Justin. Babies have been born in places like this before.”

“I know.”

“The sooner we get her to Ben’s house, the better.”

“It is good of him.”

“We owe a great deal to him, Justin. It would have been even more primitive without him.”

“Yes … we owe a lot to him.”

“Don’t worry. Morwenna is so happy. You have made her happy, Justin. And this baby … well, it just means that with you both she will have everything she wants.”

He stood up abruptly.

“I’m afraid I’ve talked too much.”

“Of course not. I’m glad you came. She has good friends around her, Justin.”

He nodded agreement and gave me a rather uncertain smile as he went out.

I thought a good deal about how fervently he wanted a son. Most men did. He really cared for Morwenna. I felt my distrust of him slipping away and I realized that I had not before been aware how deep that distrust went.

Mrs. Bowles had predicted the time the baby was due to arrive. Ben suggested that a week before we should move into Golden Hall where rooms had been prepared for us.

I was very glad for Morwenna was experiencing the usual discomforts and a little luxury was what she needed.

Meg was delighted at the prospect of having a baby in the house even though it would be only a temporary arrangement. Gervaise and Justin would go back to the shacks after their day’s work, change there and come on to Golden Hall to dine.

This seemed to work well.

“This is the life,” said Gervaise. “What a good thing it is to have friends in high places.”

He was not envious. That was not in Gervaise’s nature. In fact he was a very good man. If only he had not had that one overwhelming weakness, how different our lives would have been!

The day which had been calculated for the baby’s arrival came and went. Morwenna seemed quite well but there was no indication that the baby was ready.

Two days passed and when the third came we began to get anxious.

Mrs. Bowles said: “Nothing to worry about … yet. Babies are funny things. No use telling them to hurry. They come in their own good time.”

Morwenna was very tired. She was longing for the ordeal to be over. She slept a good deal.

One afternoon when I was by her bed and she was dozing, there was a gentle knock on the door. I went out to find Ben standing outside. He drew me into the corridor.

“Angel, you ought to get out for a while. Come now.”

“Suppose it happens while I’m away?”

“There’s no sign. Meg’s here. She’ll send Jacob for Mrs. Bowles. I’ll warn her. Come on. You need a little change or you will be ill. Just for an hour or so.”

I looked at Morwenna. She was sleeping.

“All right,” I said. “But we must put Meg on the alert.”

“We’ll tell her.”

“Perhaps she could come up and sit here.”

“All right. She shall.”

Meg was only too delighted.

“I’ll see she’s all right … and at the first sign Jacob or Thomas will be off. You get out, Mrs. Mandeville. You’ll be the one who’s ill if you don’t. You look as if you need a bit of fresh air.”

So I rode out on Foxey, with Ben beside me.

We came to that spot where we had sat before. It was quite pleasant. One could see the flat land right to the horizon. We tied our horses to a bush and sat watching the dappled sunlight in the creek close by.

Ben said: “I worry about you, Angel.”

“About me? Whatever for?”

“This life out here. This township … Those little shacks. … You’re nothing but a housemaid.”

“It’s no different for me than for any of the others here.”

“You must long for home.”

I was silent. I couldn’t deny it.

“How long can you stand it, Angel?”

“I suppose for as long as it has to be.”

“You’re a stoic.”

“No. I am very impatient sometimes.”

“Morwenna ought not to be here either.”

“You don’t think anything will go wrong?”

“I wasn’t thinking of that. But this is no place for women.”

“Nor for men either.”

“Tell them that and they won’t believe you.”

“You live comfortably enough.”

“When I first came out here I lived the same as the rest of them.”

“But you found your way out of it.”

“I do find my way out of difficult situations. Some people are like that. I find it a little uncomfortable to live here as I do … so close to the others and yet different.”

“Well, your place is a refuge to those in need … like Morwenna at the moment.”

“And you, Angel?”

“I am sharing in the luxury.”

“I wish you would share it … always.”

I was startled yet not really surprised. I had tried to hide from myself my feelings which were becoming more and more difficult to suppress. I loved Gervaise, I kept telling myself; but something had happened on our honeymoon. I had thought so often of Madame Bougerie sitting at her reception desk … trusting us … liking us … and then he had been able to go off like that without a great deal of compunction. He had said he was going to pay later, but would he have done so? Yes, that was when my feelings for him had begun to change.

And then … seeing that feverish look in his eyes … that need always to gamble … irritated me and made me impatient. It was like a disease.

I tried to pass it off lightly. “I shall enjoy it while it lasts,” I said.

“I should never have come here in the first place,” he went on. “I should have gone back to Cornwall. Perhaps I should have stayed there … had an estate nearby. We should have seen each other … often.”

“Well, that would have been very pleasant, I am sure.”

He took my hand suddenly and gripped it hard. “It ought to have worked out that way. It might … but for …”

“The man in the pool?” I said.

“You were so ill. They said it was fever. I knew it was due to all that … They were afraid you were going to die. I came to see you lying there … flushed. You looked so vulnerable lying there with your cropped hair and eyes wild and you looked at me and you cried, ‘No … no.’ They thought my visits disturbed you and they sent me away. I knew that I should always remind you … and you couldn’t get better while you were reminded. So as soon as I convinced myself that you were beginning to recover I went away.”

“Everything would have been different if I hadn’t gone to the pool that day. That’s life, isn’t it? One little incident can spark off a train of events … changing people’s lives for generations. It’s an awesome thought.”

“I’d like to change the course of my life, Angel.”

“Most of us would.”

“What I mean is I don’t want events to push me this way and that, because I believe I am the master of my own life. I will push aside those things that threaten me … I will go where I want to. But if only I could live that particular time of my life again …”

“It’s an old complaint, Ben. But when something happens it is there indelibly … forever.”

“It is too late … all those wasted years too late, but I love you, Angel, and I shall never love anyone else as I love you.”

“Please don’t say that, Ben.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. Do you believe me?”

“I am not sure.”

“Do you want to believe me?”

I was silent. I was not sure, and I thought: Yes, I do. Because I love you, too.

Neither of us spoke after that for some little time. I listened to the murmur of the light breeze … ruffling the grass near the creek.

Then at length he said: “Tell me truthfully, Angel. Are you happy?”

“Well … I think I could be if I were at home. Everything seemed all right there.”

“With Gervaise, you mean?”

“Gervaise is one of the kindest people I have ever met.”

He nodded. “I know about the debts. He told me himself. He’s indebted to my grandfather. I understand that.”

“It doesn’t seem so bad as it is Uncle Peter. We know he won’t suddenly descend on us and demand payment or else face the consequences.”

“If he found gold …”

“We could go home.”

“He might want to stay for more.”

“As you did.”

“It would be different. I vowed I would not return until I had my fortune. I found some wealth and it gave me this … But it was not what I had set out for. I couldn’t settle for less. It would be weakness and to a certain extent failure.”

“And you could not be seen to be weak. You have found enough to come home and perhaps start some enterprise. But you vowed to come back immensely rich … because that was the task you set yourself.”

“I do not care to be beaten, Angel.”

“So you will stay here until your goal has been reached … and if you do not hit the target that will be forever.”

“There are two things I want, Angel. That fortune, you know of. I want to find it in my mine. I want to have one of those discoveries which men had in the beginning which brought them out here in the hundreds. That is one thing. But what I want more than that is you.”

“I wish you would not talk in that way.”

“I want to be absolutely frank with you.”

“It is impossible, Ben. I am married to Gervaise.”

“And you don’t love him.”

“I do.”

“Not entirely. He has disappointed you. I can see that.”

He had turned to me and I was in his arms. He kissed me wildly. I was so taken aback that I could not think clearly. All I knew was that I wanted to stay with him, close … like this. I was accepting that which I had refused to face for some time … ever since I had seen Ben again.

Gervaise had been good to me, a kind and tender husband. I had thought I was in love with him. I had been too young and inexperienced to know my true feelings. I had not really known Gervaise. I had only begun to on our honeymoon when I had first discovered his weakness—not only his obsession with gambling, but a certain amoral attitude to life which could allow him to go off without paying the money he owed to people who trusted him, and gambling with money which was not really his.

I was closely bound to Ben. I always should be because of what we had endured together. I began to think about what might have been but for that man in the pool. It all came back to that. I had thought of it ever since it happened as the most momentous event in my life; and I saw now that it had certainly been so. But for it everything would have been very different.

I withdrew myself.

“We must not meet like this, Ben,” I said.

“We must,” he replied, “often. I must have something of you, Angel.”

“No,” I said.

He looked at me intently and replied: “Yes.”

“What good can it do?”

“It can make me happy for a while. You too perhaps.”

I shook my head.

“You love me,” he said. It was a statement rather than a question.

“Ben, I have not seen you for years … and then I come out here …”

“And you knew at once. Don’t let’s waste time denying the truth, Angel. Let’s think what we can do.”

“There is nothing. We shall go away from here. You will stay in your comfortable house until you have made that vast fortune. It will probably take years and years and then we shall both be old enough and wise enough to laugh at this folly.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“What else?”

“I never accept defeat.”

“I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“I am in love with you and you with me. You are married to a nice decent man. He’s a gambler. He’s a loser, Angel. I know one when I see one. Your life with him will be a continual running away from creditors. You feel you can live with that now. It has brought you to this primitive society because you had to run away. Leave him now. I shall be waiting for you.”

“You can’t really mean that.”

“What I mean is that we should not sit down meekly and accept what life deals out. You have married this man. I admit he has charm. He is gracious and courteous, the perfect English gentleman. But I will tell you what your life with him will be. I can see it clearly. I know men. He’s a loser, I tell you. He’s different from your friend Justin Cartwright.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is a man who knows how to win.”

“To win?”

“I’ve heard things. He has good luck at the table. Every time he plays he walks off with some winnings. He’s more likely to make his fortune at the tables than in the mines.”

“How do you know this?”

“They play at the saloon. Old Featherstone runs a profitable business with his saloon. He’s one of those who has a way of making money and isn’t winding up the windlasses either. There are all sorts of ways to fortune and your friend Justin is not too bad at one of them.”

“Perhaps he’ll want to go home. He is worried about Morwenna.”

“I think that’s likely. The London clubs would be more profitable than a township in the outback. Prospecting for gold by day and winning at the tables by night … well, it’s a pity for Gervaise’s sake that a little of Justin’s luck doesn’t rub off on him. Angel, you’ve got to leave him. Tell him. If we talked to him and told him how things were he would understand. He is that sort.”

“I think you are mad, Ben.”

“Yes … mad for you, Angel. I knew it would be like this between us as soon as you stepped off that ship. I thought of you often … but as a little girl. I was attracted then … I knew there was something between us … and when I saw you again I was sure of it.”

“We should not be talking like this.”

“My dear Angel, you are not in your parents’ drawing room now. Are you going to let life buffet you which way it wants to?”

“I am married to Gervaise. I love Gervaise. I will never leave him. He is a good man. He is kind and he has been good to me.”

“You will always be at the mercy of his obsession with gambling. Believe me, I know. I have seen this sort of situation before. It mustn’t happen to you, Angel.”

“And you? Are you not obsessed? You vowed to make a fortune and you say you will not leave here until you do. Isn’t that rather the same?”

“No. I am going to. … He never will.”

“How do you know? He might strike gold tomorrow.”

“Suppose he does? Suppose he goes home? I guarantee that he would lose the lot in a very short time. A couple of years … perhaps three. That’s the pattern of a gambler’s life.”

“I do not want to talk like this, Ben.”

“I never sit down and accept defeat,” he told me vehemently. “We were meant for each other. Never forget that.”

“It is foolish to talk in this way.”

“It is truthful. I love you. I want you. One day we shall be together.”

As he spoke he picked up a handful of earth and let it slip through his fingers. “I’ll find what I seek in this land,” he went on. “And one day you and I will be together.”

I said: “We must go back now. I don’t want to leave Morwenna too long. Look at your hands. What do you expect, playing with the soil like that?”

He looked towards the creek and said: “I’ll wash them in there.”

I watched him, as he knelt by the creek, and I tried hard to subdue the disturbance he had created in me.

He was right. I loved him. I knew that full well now. I doubted his faults were any less than those of Gervaise; but his would be the faults of strength; Gervaise’s those of weakness. Gervaise acted not because he wanted to but because the weakness in him made him submit to his obsession; Ben acted through strength and the certainty that the world was made for him. What was there to choose? From a point of morality … nothing. It was a matter of strength and weakness. But what sense was there in making comparisons? Love came without being bidden. One did not really love for that sort of reason.

He was a long time at the creek. I saw him dabbling his hands in the water. I rose and, going to my horse, untethered it and mounted. I must get back to Morwenna.

He seemed reluctant to leave the creek.

“I’m going now,” I called.

He rubbed his hands on his coat as he turned.

He was very quiet and seemed to be deep in thought as we rode back to the house.

He is regretting his outspokenness, I thought. He is realizing that he should never have said what he did.

I was glad he had, though. It was a warning to me. In view of those feelings he had expressed for me and mine for him, I should have to take care.

The next day there was excitement throughout the township.

One-Eye Thompson and Tom Cassidy had found gold—not just a speck or two but the real thing.

One-Eye—so called for obvious reasons, but no one seemed to know how he had lost his right eye—was a man who did not mingle very much with his fellows. He lived in a shack which he shared with his partner, Tom Cassidy; they were usually a taciturn pair, and they were rarely at the saloon unless it was to drink a mug of ale and then depart immediately afterwards.

They had worked steadily and, until this time, without success.

The news spread rapidly. If someone had found gold in any quantity it could mean that there were still rich alluvial deposits in the neighborhood. Hope ran like a fire through the settlement.

One-Eye had little to say but Cassidy could not contain his joy.

“It’s come at last,” he said. “We’re made. Soon it will be Home for us … millionaires.”

Feverishly they worked raising the wash-dirt from the bottom of their shaft, then taking it to the stream to be panned … that the dross might be separated from the precious gold.

Everyone was talking of One-Eye’s and Cassidy’s luck. There was no other topic of conversation.

For three days they worked furiously turning out the gold. But it did not last. It ceased as suddenly as it had begun.

“Never mind,” said Cassidy. “Our fortunes are made.”

It was going to be Home for them.

The gold was in bags ready to be taken to Melbourne. There it would be valued; and there was no doubt that they had become rich men overnight.

As was the custom when anyone, as they said, “struck it rich,” there was a celebration throughout the town.

The successful partners would be hosts to the entire community. There would be a roasted sheep; it would be out-of-doors. There would be dancing and singing for when one man experienced such luck it stressed the fact that this could happen to any of them. It was the whole meaning of the life; it brought fresh optimism to the site for everyone knew that if someone had found leads to a “jeweler’s shop” there must be others.

“Gold will be as plentiful as it had been in fifty-one,” they said. “It is just that it is farther down and more difficult to find.”

I remember that occasion well. The excitement was intense. It was impossible not to be part of it. Even One-Eye expressed his jubilation; Cassidy was obviously in a state of bliss.

Gervaise was delighted. “Theirs today and ours tomorrow,” he said. “Soon we’ll be out of this place. There’s gold there. You can smell it.”

“I have a feeling that we shall soon be lucky,” said Justin.

“Everyone has that feeling,” I told them. “I only hope it is true.”

The heat of the day was over; the night was pleasantly warm and the stars brilliant in the velvety sky … the Southern Cross to remind us that we were far from home. Fires were lighted for roasting the meat. Dampers were cooking in the ashes. It seemed that everyone in the town was assembled.

“You will see,” Ben told us, “how a really big find is celebrated here. After months of depression when people begin to feel that the good days have gone forever, someone has a find like this and hope springs up.”

I could see that there was a change in him. He too was deeply affected by this find. He had the gold fever as intensely as any of them.

Gervaise was in specially high spirits.

“Just think,” he said. “It could have been us.”

“If only it had,” I sighed.

“If only …” repeated Justin.

They were two words which seemed to be in my mind a great deal lately. Ben’s confession had had a profound effect on me. I told myself I ought to get away. I felt unsure of myself.

Some of the men and women had begun to dance. Two of the men had brought violins with them and they were always in great demand. One of them had a very good singing voice.

It was a strange night. The light from the fires set a glow over the shacks endowing them with a mysterious quality they lacked by daylight.

Morwenna was of course not with us. She was not well enough and hourly we were expecting—and hoping—for the child to be born. We never left her alone. Always one of us was within call, holding herself in readiness. Meg was on duty at this moment and her husband with her. He would fetch Mrs. Bowles immediately if there was any sign of the child.

I was seated on the grass, Justin and Gervaise with me.

Gervaise was talking enthusiastically of the find. I knew that his desire to go home and his need to find gold were grappling with each other. I do believe that had it not been for the debt he owed Uncle Peter he would have wanted to leave by now. As Ben had said, it was easier to make money at the card tables in London’s Clubland than in the goldfields of Australia.

This find had probably made him change his view. “There must be more,” he kept saying. “It is like that. If you find traces it must mean that there is more not far off. It could be anywhere under this ground. We are going to find it. I know we are.”

“Soon, I hope,” I said.

“I heard a rumor,” said Justin, “that Ben Lansdon wants to buy land from James Morley. What do you think he plans to do? To graze sheep?”

Gervaise said: “He doesn’t seem like a grazier to me.”

“To open up another mine?”

“Why on Morley’s land?”

“Who knows? Do you think he has come to the conclusion that the present one is worked out?”

“There have been poor yields for some time.”

I thought: Yes, he has the gold fever as much as any of them. He will never give up any more than the others will.

I saw Ben among the crowd. With him were James Morley and Lizzie. Ben was talking animatedly to them. James was laughing and Lizzie smiling happily. She looked quite beautiful in the firelight with that lovely serene expression which seemed to indicate complete contentment.

They came over to us.

Ben took my hand and pressed it firmly.

“Well, what do you think of our jamboree?” he asked.

“Exciting,” I said. “The township looks different in the fire-and starlight.”

“It casts a rosy glow. I think One-Eye and Cassidy are very happy men tonight.”

“We shall miss them,” said Gervaise.

“Others will take their places, never fear.”

“And there will be more disappointments,” said James Morley. “I reckon it would do most of them more good to get hold of a piece of land and raise sheep and cattle.”

“They might not all have your success, James,” said Ben.

“They would if they worked. All this dig … dig … dig and perhaps there is just nothing at the end of it. It’s making a mess of good grazing land.”

“You have one aim in mind, James,” said Ben with a laugh. “Return to the land.”

“Yes, and give up this gimcrack notion. Gold there might be … but there is not enough to go round … and I say leave it be.”

“Yours certainly seems to be a happier way of life,” I said.

“You see before you one of the most successful graziers in Victoria,” said Ben. “Not all are so successful. And show me two happier men tonight than One-Eye and Cassidy.”

“They are happy,” I said, “because they are getting away from it.”

“But, darling,” put in Gervaise, “think of the joy of tilting your pan and seeing it there … and realizing that you have stumbled on it at last.”

“Yes,” I told him, “I can imagine how they feel. But how often does it happen?”

“Angelet is homesick,” said Gervaise.

“Aren’t we all?” asked Ben.

James Morley said, “Well, I’m not. I like to see my grassland. I like to see my sheep and my cattle. I wouldn’t want any of my land disturbed … and that’s a plain fact.”

“Not even if there were nuggets the size of your fists underneath it?” asked Gervaise.

“You’d have to show ’em to me first before I’d have one square foot of my land disturbed.”

“How would you know unless you looked?” I asked.

“That’s good reasoning. You wouldn’t, would you? Well, as far as I’m concerned it could stay there. I’m happy as I am. I don’t want anything to do with this Gold Rush. Look at all those people … dancing … singing. It’s like a scene from the Bible. Remember when they were all worshiping the golden calf.”

I went over to stand beside Lizzie.

She said: “Isn’t it pretty in this light? You can’t see how ugly it is in daylight.”

I agreed.

Someone started to sing. They were the old songs from Home which we knew so well: “Come, Lasses and Lads,” “On a Friday Morn When We Set Sail” and “Rule, Britannia.”

I saw many of them wipe a surreptitious tear from their eyes. They were songs which reminded them of Home.

Then Cassidy sang a song which I had never heard before. It was the song of the goldfield:

Gold, Gold, Gold

Bright and yellow, hard and cold,

Molten, graven, hammered and rolled,

Heavy to get and light to hold,

Price of many a crime untold …

There was silence among the crowd as his voice rang out clear on the night air. It had a sobering effect, coming after the songs which most of them had sung in their childhood. “Heavy to get and light to hold, Price of many a crime untold …”

Those words kept ringing in my ears.

I said to Gervaise: “I think I will go now. I don’t like leaving Morwenna.”

“There are people there to look after her.”

“Yes, but I am thinking of her all the time. I wish this baby would come.”

“I believe there are often delays like this.”

“Perhaps. We ought to have taken her to Melbourne. There is a hospital there.”

Gervaise said soothingly: “It will be all right. Don’t fret.”

“I’ll try not to, but I do want to see her.”

“I’ll take you back to the house.”

Ben had come up. “Are you going?” he asked.

“I keep thinking of Morwenna. I’m going to see her.”

“Can’t you trust Meg?”

“Yes, of course, but I’d like to be there.”

“I’ll walk you back. I was going anyway. Come on.”

“Good night, Gervaise,” I said.

He put his arms round me and kissed me.

“It will be nice when you are back,” he said.

“It will be soon, I hope. This can’t go on.”

The walk to Golden Hall was not very long. Ben said: “I wanted to talk to you.”

I waited.

“Something has to happen,” he went on. “Soon.”

“Such as what?”

“About everything. The way we are going. I want you to leave Gervaise and come to me.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Just that. You love me. You were never really in love with Gervaise.”

“You are talking nonsense, Ben. We met long ago and now we have met again briefly. How much do we know of each other?”

“A great deal. We shared an experience … once. I have thought of you ever since. Have you thought of me?”

“After that experience you went away. You left me.”

“If I had thought you needed me I should never have gone.”

“After that terrible thing … I was a child. I needed help.”

“I thought you were too young for it to have a great impact.”

“You must have thought I could take it as easily as you did.”

“I believe you understood that it was not our fault. We harmed nobody. But it is in the past. It’s the future I’m thinking of. I love you, Angel. It is important for me to know now that you love me … that you will come back to England with me.”

“This has all happened too quickly.”

“It has been happening over the years.”

“Well then, why did you stay in Australia? Why didn’t you come and find me before … I married Gervaise?”

“Because I did not know until I saw you again. It all fell into place then. I knew you were the only one.”

“And what of Gervaise?”

“What of him?”

“He is my husband. We are happy together. Do you think I can just say to him, ‘It was nice knowing you but I have finished with you now’?”

“Gervaise will recover from the loss in time.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have met many like him. He is kind, gentle, loving and weak. He would be the same with any woman as he is with you. You are not first in his life. What is most important to him is gambling. That is what he really cares about. If he lost you and won at roulette or found gold … he would recover. If I lose you I never shall. Nor will you. We are different. Our feelings go deep. We were meant for each other from the day we met. Angel, I must know …”

“What must you know?”

“That you will come to me. We will explain to Gervaise together. He would not stand in our way.”

“Do you mean he would simply pass me on to you?”

“He would want you to be happy. I would compensate him. I would make over my gold mine to him, and you and I could return to England.”

“What a preposterous suggestion.”

“I suppose I am rather preposterous.”

“I can’t think you are serious.”

“I am deadly serious. He would agree to a divorce. We could marry and settle in England.”

“How do you think we should be received at home? Your grandfather …”

“My grandfather is a man of the world. I am very like him in many respects. He would understand. I do not anticipate any trouble there … and if there was I should overcome it. I am not dependent on him or anyone.”

“Oh, Ben,” I said, “you make everything sound so easy.”

“Be honest with me. Do you enjoy being with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“More than with anyone else?”

I did not answer.

“Silence is construed as yes,” he said.

I was thinking of it … being with Ben all the time … and going home. It seemed like paradise to me. It was the first time that I had admitted to myself that I had been so uneasy and apprehensive ever since I had met him again. I had tried to convince myself that it was due to the adventure we had shared—but it was not that. I wanted to be with Ben. If I were free … if only I were free!

But I did love Gervaise. Who could help loving Gervaise? He had always been to good to me, and because of the weakness I saw in him, I wanted to protect him. Surely that was love. Perhaps it was possible to love two men at the same time.

Gervaise’s love for me was tender and patient. That of Ben fiercely possessive and passionate. I knew in my heart that it was Ben I wanted. I also knew that I would never leave Gervaise.

Yet I allowed myself to indulge in fantasies. Going home with Ben … I could imagine his facing them all … making them see it his way. Ben would always win.

As we approached the house, he gripped my arm. “Please, Angel, you must realize this. If you don’t you will spend all your life regretting.”

“I am sure that if I did what you suggest I should do the same. No, Ben, I could not. I think you have not given this enough thought.”

“I have thought of little else since you came here. I can’t be happy without you, Angel. Can you … without me?”

“I am going to try, Ben. I was happy enough before …”

“Before you realized you had made a mistake?”

“I did not think of it as a mistake.”

“When you knew that there would be no serenity in your life? There never will be, you know. This will always be there … like a shadow over everything. There will be debts … always debts. There is no other way.”

“I am going to try to change it.”

“You can’t change people, Angel. They are as they are.”

“I think one can overcome disabilities.”

“Some perhaps. But not this one … not when it has such a firm hold, when it is part of that person. I have seen it often.”

“I daresay we all have our faults.”

“I more than any.”

“Well then …”

We went into the house. It was silent. Jacob and Minnie would be with the revelers. Thomas was probably in bed and Meg would be dozing at Morwenna’s bedside.

We stood in the hall and he put his arms around me.

“I want you here with me,” he said, “now. I want reassurance. Angel, I will give up everything … everything here … I swear … if you will be with me tonight.”

“Oh … no, I couldn’t do that, Ben.”

He held me tightly.

“It’s important. Dearest Angel. I want to be sure. I must be sure … tonight. I will give up everything if you will say yes. We will go home … we will be together always.”

He was kissing me and a terrible longing possessed me—not only for home but for him. I had made a mistake. I had taken good looks, courtly manners, kindliness, tenderness for love. It was not like that. Love was a wild thing that came to you when you least expected it … suddenly; and then once it had taken hold of you, you were captured.

Life is strange. One must be in the right place at the right moment. And that was where it had failed me. Gervaise had been there when it should have been Ben; and I had mistaken the shadow for the substance, the dross for the gold.

It was too late. Too late. Those words kept echoing in my ears.

But was it too late? Living life to the full was taking opportunities. Nobody knew that better than Ben.

He was now saying: It is not too late. We do not have to accept this. We can change it all.

I was afraid. I felt my resistance weakening. I loved Ben. I wanted Ben. My reasoning told me that this was impossible and what he was suggesting was wrong, very wrong. One could not throw aside morality just because one had made a mistake and realized it.

I was calling on all my powers of resistance; but with Ben’s arms about me and his face close to mine, I was afraid … desperately afraid that my passionate need of him would rise above my scruples.

Perhaps it might have done. We were in this house … all but alone … together.

There was a sound above us. I heard a call. The spell was broken.

Thomas stood at the top of the stairs.

“It’s Mrs. Cartwright,” he said. “Meg thinks it’s the baby at last.”

The ordeal had begun. I hastened to Morwenna’s room. Meg was very anxious and Morwenna was in great pain.

“I hope Mrs. Bowles won’t be long,” she said. “Thomas has gone for her. She is all ready and waiting so she must be here soon. Everything’s ready. I’ll go and get the water hot. They always seem to need that. If you’ll sit with her …”

Morwenna looked very pale and every now and then she writhed in pain. She was trying not to cry out. I did not know what to do. I prayed that Mrs. Bowles would arrive soon.

It seemed a long time before she came but it was, of course, not really so. She was prepared for this. Had we not been waiting more than two weeks for the arrival of the baby?

Mrs. Bowles turned us out of the room, keeping only Meg with her. Meg had helped bring another baby into the world very recently and Mrs. Bowles had found her useful.

Justin and Gervaise had arrived at the house. Minnie and Jacob had come too, to see if there was anything they could do.

And the vigil began.

We sat silently, waiting … fearfully.

The time dragged on and it must have been just after midnight when Mrs. Bowles came down to us.

She said: “There’s something not quite right. I want a doctor. You’ll have to get Dr. Field.”

“Dr. Field!” cried Ben. “He’s ten miles from here.”

Mrs. Bowles replied tersely: “It’s necessary.”

“I’ll go at once,” replied Ben.

He left immediately.

After he had gone we sat on in fear. I was sorry for Justin. He looked quite unlike the man I had known. He just sat staring ahead of him.

“It’ll be all right,” said Gervaise. “There are often these little complications.”

I wanted to shout at him: What do you know of these things? Why do you always say everything will be all right? I felt irritated with him. I think it was because I had, in my thoughts, been unfaithful to him. I despised myself for this and when one does that, one likes to blame the person one has wronged. Then I was desperately worried … and there was no room for any feeling but concern about Morwenna.

That was the most wretched period I had ever lived through. We sat waiting fearfully, wondering what was happening in the room above, starting at every sound, waiting for Mrs. Bowles to come and tell us what was happening, longing for a sight of her and fearing what news she would bring.

Meg was with Mrs. Bowles. I wanted to help but they thought that there would be too many people in the room. There was little I could do in any case, said Mrs. Bowles. If she needed me she would call. But we must wait for the doctor and pray that he would come soon.

I shall never forget poor Justin. I had not really thought he cared so much. Secretly I had wondered a great deal about his motive in marrying Morwenna and I had sometimes felt it was due to her expectations for it seemed certain that Morwenna would one day be a considerable heiress. The Pencarrons were very wealthy apart from their mine which was a most profitable concern. And everything would be for her. But it seemed now that he was genuinely distressed.

He had so longed for a son.

The hours were slipping by. It was not until dawn that Ben arrived with Dr. Field. The doctor had made himself available and they had ridden hard through the night.

He went to Morwenna at once and the waiting began again. We sat there tense and expectant.

Then Meg came down. “The doctor wants a word with Mr. Cartwright,” she said.

Justin rose at once and followed her out of the room.

And we sat on … waiting.

Gervaise said: “What’s happening, do you think?”

“I’m frightened,” I told him.

“It’ll be all right,” he replied. “It’s bound to be all right.”

There was silence and the waiting went on. The tension was unendurable.

I said: “I am going to see what is happening.”

Gervaise laid a hand on my arm. “You mustn’t distress yourself, Angelet.”

I turned away and ran out of the room.

I found Justin. He was sitting on the stairs outside the room in which Morwenna lay. His head was in his hands. I went and sat beside him.

“Justin,” I said, “what is it?”

“The doctor asked me. It’s all going wrong, Angelet. He said he can save the child but it could cost Morwenna her life …”

“Oh no,” I said.

He nodded. “It could be a matter of the mother or the child … and he said that we could never have another child.”

“Oh, Justin … how terrible.”

“I said he must save Morwenna …”

“I know how much you wanted this child, Justin.”

“The doctor said … they were both in danger … but he thought he might be able to save one.”

We were silent. I thought of how Morwenna had longed for this child. She was going to be very unhappy.

I felt a great tenderness towards Justin. I was almost on the point of asking him to forgive me for mistrusting him.

And as we sat there we heard the sudden cry of a child.

Justin started up and we looked at each other.

Justin’s lips formed the word: “Morwenna.”

Oh no … no … I thought. It could not be. Justin had said save the mother.

I had heard of such choices before. Why had we come to this benighted spot! If Morwenna had been in London all the care possible would have been hers; she would have had the most practiced doctors, and the best nurses would have been attending her.

We sat on … I could think of nothing to say to him, but my silent sympathy must have been as clear to him as words would have been.

I don’t know how long we sat there. We heard the child cry again. Justin put his hand over his ears. He just sat there … in silence.

Then the door opened and the doctor came out.

“Mr. Cartwright,” he said.

Justin sprang to his feet.

“Your wife is sleeping. She will sleep for several hours. She will need nursing for a while. Mrs. Bowles is quite experienced. She will know what to do. You have a son.”

“But I thought …”

“I admit to my surprise. I did not think it would be possible to save them both. I believe your son is going to be a tenacious young fellow.”

Justin and I just stared at each other; then he put his arms round me and hugged me.

That day stands out in my memory as one of perfect happiness.

There was no place for anything but rejoicing. That which we had thought lost was restored to us. Morwenna was weak but all she needed was careful nursing. As for her son, he was a lusty young baby. The little difficulty in arriving was not going to upset him.

Mrs. Bowles preened herself; she was the heroine of the hour in her own opinion; she it was who had presided; she had known when to send for the doctor; she had known all along that everything was going to be all right.

I saw Morwenna later that day. She lay there, her eyes shining: she was beautiful in her complete contentment; and when Mrs. Bowles laid the baby in her arms she looked like the Madonna.

“I have never thought to be so happy,” she said. “Angelet, you must write at once to Mother and Pa and tell them they have a grandson.”

I was too emotional to speak; as I had sat on the stairs I had said to myself over and over again: How am I going to tell the Pencarrons? And now there was only joyful news to impart.

Justin was there, smiling at Morwenna, marveling at the perfection of his new son. Everyone wanted to see and touch the baby, but Mrs. Bowles stood over him like a stern sentinel protecting him from invaders.

There was great rejoicing everywhere.

That was a perfect day.

The first thing I did next morning was to go to Morwenna’s room. Mrs. Bowles was sleeping at the house; she was going to look after Morwenna for as long as she considered it necessary. She was sleeping in a room next to what was now called the nursery.

I said that when Morwenna was well enough we would go to Melbourne and buy a cot and perambulator for the baby. I wanted to buy some toys.

Morwenna laughed at me. “He won’t be playing with many toys yet. He would like a nice furry thing to cuddle perhaps.”

I sat by her bed for most of that morning telling her how frightened we had been … how we had waited all through the night.

“You are all so wonderful to me,” she said.

“Ben Lansdon rode ten miles through the night … and ten more bringing back Dr. Field.”

“I shall never forget what he did.”

“Heaven knows what would have happened without the doctor, Morwenna. You would have all those complications.”

She laughed. “Justin is delighted with the baby,” she said softly.

“He is even more delighted with you,” I told her. “There was a choice, you know … at one stage the doctor said he could save your life or the child’s …”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Justin said, save you. You see, you are loved, Morwenna.”

There were tears in her eyes. “Did he really say that, Angelet?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I … sometimes wondered …”

“What?”

“Whether he truly loved me.”

“Why? Did he ever seem not to?”

“Oh no. He always said he did. But I couldn’t really believe that anyone could care like that for me.”

“You are a silly creature, Morwenna. Well, now you know.”

“I am so happy. Fancy! Here, in this place, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. Isn’t it odd? And isn’t it wonderful?”

I agreed that it was.

The news spread through the town. One-Eye’s and Cassidy’s gold had disappeared, and David Skelling with it. He must have stolen it and gone off during the revelries. No one had noticed him go and neither One-Eye nor Cassidy had missed the gold for twenty-four hours. It had taken them all day to sleep off the effects of the celebrations.

For the next day there was no talk of anything but the robbery; and then when it seemed that One-Eye and Cassidy had lost their fortunes and that David Skelling was obviously the thief, the arrival of the new baby and the difficult birth with its final happy conclusion didn’t turn their minds from the terrible fate of the two miners.

There was a great deal of marveling at the skill of the doctor and Mrs. Bowles. It was the latter’s finest hour. She was staying at Golden Hall where Morwenna was with the baby; and when she came into the town people would gather round her to hear the tale.

“It was touch and go,” she told them. “Dr. Field, he said to me, ‘Mrs. Bowles, what do you think of this?’ And I told him straight. I said, ‘It’s either her or the baby.’ And he said, ‘That’s what I’m afraid, Mrs. Bowles. But we’ll do our best.’ And we did. The Lord alone knows how we did it. We pulled them both through. I never thought we could but we did.”

I guessed the tale would be told for years to come as she weighed out the sugar and sliced the bacon.

We were all in a state of euphoria that week. Morwenna was getting better every day. Happiness was a great restorer. Mrs. Bowles was growing prouder and the baby stronger.

Morwenna had discussed the baby’s name and she decided on Pedrek. It was a good old Cornish name and it had belonged to her great-grandfather. She remembered that when she was a child she had seen it on a tombstone. She had always liked it.

There would be a christening at Walloo, where Dr. Field had his practice. There was a church there and a parson. He had come over once or twice, Mrs. Bowles told us, for funerals.

“We’ll have a christening then when he is a little older,” said Morwenna.

It had been arranged that she should stay at Ben’s house until she was stronger. Mrs. Bowles was to remain for a week or so to look after her and the baby. She darkly hinted to me that although she and the doctor had performed their miracle, there must be no going back.

I thought this wise. As for Mrs. Bowles she was delighted for while still living in a haze of glory—and she knew how quickly that could fade in spite of her efforts to keep it going—she also enjoyed living in what she called the lap of luxury.

Much to Ben’s chagrin I returned to the shack. I said there was no excuse for me to remain longer, in fact I was desperately afraid of the emotion which Ben aroused in me.

This was a time of discovery. I was learning to know people. One received an impression and judged them on that, and later was proved wrong. The fact was that people were complex beings; one could not divide them into categories—the bad and the righteous. One should never make hasty judgments or assess people on what one saw superficially.

In my innocence I had endowed Gervaise with all the knightly qualities and then I had found the feet of clay—that obsession which had changed our lives and would one day, I felt sure, ruin us.

Each day I fell more and more out of love with Gervaise and this was largely because I was falling more and more in love with Ben.

At the moment I was happy because during those moments on the stairs with Justin, I had vowed that I would give everything I had or had hoped for, if Morwenna could live and have her baby. She had her baby and she was getting stronger every day; and I was already forgetting my vow. Not only did I want happiness for her but for myself too.

I was tired of this place, of the perpetual grime, the rough living, the four walls of my dismal shed … trying to clean the place, building the fire which had to be kept going in the excessive heat because we must cook, the ration of water, insects which I had never before known existed, the ubiquitous flies. I wanted to go home … for many reasons. I wanted to see my family; I wanted to live in comfort; and I was afraid of what would happen between Ben and me if I stayed here.

He was always there. He made a point of being where I was. He was always urging me … if not with words with looks. I think he, too, wanted to go home. He seemed to be grappling with himself.

I said to him one day: “You could go home. Why do you not just leave?”

He said he had vowed not to return until he had found gold in such quantities as he knew existed somewhere under this soil.

I replied that it was folly to make such vows. He could return now. He had enough money to go back and engage in some profitable enterprise.

“If you will come with me, I will go,” he said. “Otherwise I stay. Everything is tied up here. What would my grandfather think of me if I went back without what I came for?”

“He would understand.”

“If you came back with me … yes. He would understand then.”

“Ben, I cannot go back with you. I shall always be faithful to Gervaise. I married him. I took my vows.”

“Tell me,” he said, “do you mean it?”

“I mean it absolutely.”

“Will you change your mind?”

“Never, never …”

He looked at me sadly.

“Then,” he said, “it looks as though I shall have to go ahead … here.”

“You are important here, A sort of head man.”

He laughed at that, but his laughter was hollow.

“You actually employ these people in the mine. You have your house with servants. Your life is different from all the others. Only the Motleys can compare with you.”

“I know what I want. It is to go home … to go home with you. … If I cannot have that …”

“You can’t, Ben.”

“Never?”

“I have vowed to be true to Gervaise. I shall never break that vow.”

“Then,” he said, “I must make the best of what I have. Is that what you are telling me?”

“Yes, Ben, it is. You are a very ambitious man, Ben. You can be content with what you have and what you might find here … That would console you … for us.”

“Nothing would console me,” he said. “But you are right … I must take what I can get. I will be lucky in everything … but love.”

“You will have to consider yourself fortunate to be lucky in something.”

“It is not what I want. Always remember this, Angel. It was not what I wanted.”

I felt my resistance weakening and I fought it with all my strength.

It was true that I was falling deeper and deeper in love with him. Not as I had with Gervaise which was a matter of a young girl eager to experience love and imagining it would come from the first charming man she met.

This was different. I had been drawn to Ben from the first. I had a feeling that we belonged together. I had loved Gervaise until I had discovered his weakness and I believed that whatever fresh weakness I discovered in Ben I should continue to love him. Perhaps that was the difference.

I had a suspicion that I might be going to have a baby. I thought at first that this might be because I had become so obsessed with young Pedrek.

It would surely not be surprising. I was young and healthy; so was Gervaise. Why should we not produce a child?

If we had been at home and I was still in love with Gervaise, I should have been delighted at the prospect. I could imagine the fuss there would have been. My mother … Amaryllis … taking care of me … and my child born into comfortable surroundings.

But here! This was no place to bring a child to. I had been wondering how we were going to manage when Morwenna left Golden Hall, which she would have to do soon. She would not want to be Ben’s guest forever, although he would raise no objections. How could we manage in the little shack with the baby in his cradle and the difficulty of getting fresh milk and all that was needed? I thought of all the work which would have to be done.

Women had done it before but Morwenna had to rest and I was not used to hard labor.

So … the prospect of having a child here was very different from what it would have been at home.

Ben said it was impossible for Morwenna to take the child back to the shack. She must stay where she was. Meg and Minnie were all for it. They loved having a baby in the house.

“It is only reasonable,” said Ben. “Besides, you will have to come here every day to visit her. I insist that she stay if only a little longer.”

I talked it over with Justin and Gervaise.

“It’s an excellent idea,” said Gervaise. “And why not? There are all those rooms at Golden Hall. What a lucky fellow Ben is to have got himself into such a comfortable spot!”

“He worked for it,” I said a little tartly. “He did not gamble everything away as soon as he got it.”

Justin was disappointed that Morwenna was staying on, but he knew it was best for her.

So she stayed and the baby flourished.

I was now certain that I was pregnant.

When I told Gervaise he expressed great pleasure.

“Gervaise,” I said. “I think we ought to make plans for going home.”

“Now?” he said. “After One-Eye’s and Cassidy’s find?”

“I can’t bring up a child here.”

“That’s months away. We’ll have found gold and left by the time the child comes.”

“It’s seven months, Gervaise.”

“Loads of time.”

“I don’t think so.”

He ruffled my hair and gave me his charming smile. “I promise you. We’ll go in good time.”

I sighed. As Mrs. Penlock used to say, “Some people’s promises are like pie crust. Made to be broken.” Gervaise’s promises were like that.

Beneath the charm there was selfishness. He would do what he wanted and smile affably while he did so, murmuring words of tenderness. I think I completely fell out of love with Gervaise then.

I did not tell Morwenna that I was going to have a child. I thought it would upset her. She would remember her ordeal and how she had come through it by a miracle. She would be fearful for me and I did not want any difficulties to impinge on this bout of perfect happiness she was enjoying now.

One-Eye and Cassidy had gone, on the day after the celebrations, in search of David Skelling, vowing revenge on him when they found him. They had been explicit about what they would do to him.

I talked about it with Gervaise. I said: “You see how this lust for gold arouses the evil in people. It has made a thief of David Skelling.”

“He was a thief before that … and an ex-convict, you know.”

“And if they find him, they will kill him. It will make murderers of them. Don’t you see, Gervaise? It is wrong. I feel it in this place. When I see the look in those men’s eyes. … I can’t bear it. They are all looking for gold which will make them rich overnight.”

“Overnight!” he cried. “Think of the months of hard work!”

“It’s wrong, Gervaise. I just know it. It’s worshiping the golden calf.”

“Ha!” he said, taking my chin in his hands and kissing me—a gesture which used to charm me and did so no longer.

“Yes, it is like worshiping a goddess … a golden goddess, which is fundamentally evil because the obsession makes men do evil things to earn her favors.”

“You were always fanciful, darling.”

“Gervaise,” I pleaded, “let’s go home. Let’s leave all this. Let us face what we left behind. Let us try to live within our income. I am sure Uncle Peter will not be hard on us. He will give us time to pay back what we owe him. I might ask my father to help us. I could explain the situation to him … if only I could be sure that you were not going to squander everything in this perpetual gambling.”

“Everything is going to be all right,” he said soothingly. “We are going to find gold. I’m convinced of it. It might even be tomorrow … Then we’ll go home. Our little one will be born into riches. We are going to live happily ever after.”

“Let’s not wait for the gold, Gervaise.”

“Just think what we should feel if we packed up and went and as soon as we left they came up with the richest find ever known. We’d never forgive ourselves.”

“I feel in my bones that we must go … before it is too late.”

“I know what’s wrong. It’s the baby. Women get fancies when they are going to have babies.”

“I have had this feeling for a long time.”

He kissed me lightly: and I knew that I could never make him understand.

I went to see Morwenna. She was able to take the baby into the garden now. She was still weak, however, and in no condition to return to the shack.

She said: “I shall always be grateful to Ben for allowing me to stay here. I don’t know how I could have coped with living in that little place.”

“Yes,” I said. “Ben has been very helpful.”

“Meg and Minnie are wonderful and even Thomas and Jacob come out and look at him. It is rather funny to see them. They are just a bit awkward and feel it is not manly to be interested in babies. I have written to Mother and Pa and told them all about him … how bright he is. He already knows me.”

“Does he?”

“Well, he stops crying when I pick him up.”

“That means he is going to be a genius.”

It was wonderful to see her so happy. I thought: Happiness is transient … a moment here and another there … and then it is gone. One should savor it when it comes and never miss an opportunity of seizing it when it is offered.

“Yes,” said Morwenna. “I owe a lot to Ben. The way he rode through the night to Dr. Field. I should have lost my baby but for that.” Her eyes closed with horror at the thought. “But he went … that way … through the night … And then letting me stay here. When I try to thank him he won’t listen. He says it was nothing. Anyone would have done it. I wish I could repay him.”

“His repayment is to see you and the baby well and happy here.”

“I wish he could get that land he is trying to buy.”

“You mean Morley’s land?”

“Morley is obstinate. He’s afraid Ben would start mining there and he just wants it for cattle. Justin told me about it. Morley is a stubborn man.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I wonder if Ben will get it in the end.”

“Ben is determined and so is Morley. When you get two men like that you never know what will happen … except that it is Mr. Morley who owns the land, and if he won’t give it up then Ben can’t succeed in getting it. Mr. Morley thinks that everyone ought to go back to the towns and earn what he calls a decent living and stop scrabbling in the dust for what isn’t there.”

“But you see, once it was and some found it. Think of all those lovely houses in Melbourne.”

“Yes,” said Morwenna. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to go home?”

“Yes,” I said fervently, “it would.”

After leaving Morwenna in her comfortable surroundings, the shack seemed particularly uninviting. No matter how one tried it was impossible to keep the place clean. The dust blew in and covered everything.

I thought that the men at least had the excitement of hope with every shovelful that was brought up and washed in the stream because it might contain what they sought. That would keep them going. For the women there was nothing but the daily chores—the unpalatable food to prepare, the preservation of the precious water.

I said to myself: I will not endure this any longer. There were times when I felt like going to Ben and saying: You promised to take me away from this. Take me home and I will come with you.

No. That would make it seem like a bargain. But it was not only the prospect of going home; I wanted to be with Ben. I knew he had this ambition, this lust for gold which I deplored; and yet it made no difference to my feelings for him.

Then One-Eye and Cassidy came back to the township.

They rode in at midday; the men were all working on their patches; the women were in the shacks. There was a certain midday peace over the town.

And then they came. A shout went up. The men left their work; the women came out of the shacks. They crowded round to hear the news.

One-Eye and Cassidy were triumphant. They had found their gold. They had it with them. And they had found David Skelling, too. With him was his horse—a skeleton of a horse.

“He was lying out there where we found him,” said Cassidy. “Not more than fifty miles from here. His horse was still alive … wouldn’t leave him.”

One-Eye patted the animal. “We’ll feed him. We’ll put him to rights,” he said. “It was through him we found Skelling.”

Everyone was firing questions at them and they were only too ready to tell their story. But the horse had to be fed. One-Eye and Cassidy wanted him looked after before they would sit down. They owed their find to him and they were men who paid their debts. The horse was going to be given royal treatment. He was theirs from now on.

We crowded into the saloon. One-Eye and Cassidy sat down and ate meat pies and drank ale with relish.

And then they told their story.

They had gone off in search of Skelling. “Like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Cassidy. “We was hopping mad, wasn’t we, One-Eye? There was one thing we had in mind … what we was going to do to that cheating little thief. There wasn’t nothing too bad for him. We was going to string him up. We was going to let him die by inches. All this time it took … and him not more than fifty miles away. He was always a fool, Skelling was. I don’t know where he was trying to make for … Walloo perhaps … and get on from there. He thought the first place we’d look was Melbourne. He was right there. We did. Made inquiries. No one had seen him. So we knew he hadn’t gone there to try to place the nuggets. So we came back. We’d almost given up hope, hadn’t we, One-Eye?”

One-Eye said they had.

“Then,” went on Cassidy, “when we was almost back and reckoned we’d have to start digging again, we saw the horse. There he was standing by the body of Skelling. Know what had happened? He was just starved to death. He’d tried eating grass. There was stains on his face. The buzzards would soon have made short work of him, I reckon … when they got wind of him. But there he was. Must have been dead a few days. So we didn’t get him alive.”

One-Eye nodded.

Arthur Bowles said: “And he’s still lying there?”

“Yes,” said One-Eye.

Cassidy added: “Seeing him like that … made us sort of glad that we wasn’t the ones to have to take revenge. We was glad it had been done for us. I don’t know … funny how you change. We found our gold on him … some on his belt … some in his pockets … We’ve found every single bit … haven’t we, One-Eye?”

“Yes,” affirmed One-Eye, “every single bit.”

“It makes you think,” went on Cassidy. “A man’s dead and gone for good, ain’t he? And once he’s gone you feel different about what you’re going to do. Me and One-Eye wants to get a coffin made for him and we’re going out to get him and bring him back. We’re going to give him a burial here … and then we’re going home. And we’re never going to let that gold leave our sight again, are we, One-Eye? Not till we get to Melbourne, get it weighed up and all that has to be done.”

There was little work done that day. Everyone was talking about the way they had found poor old Skelling who was now dead.

Poor old Skelling, they said. He had never had a chance. They sent him out for seven years when he was little more than a boy and he had lived hard ever since. He hadn’t even had that little bit of luck which had come to most people at some time. Poor old Skelling.

True to their word, One-Eye and Cassidy made their coffin. They took the buggy with them and went out and brought Skelling home.

The parson was summoned from Walloo and there was a burial service; and outside the town where a few graves already existed, old Skelling was laid to rest.

The entire incident made me feel more eager than ever to go home.

It was just after the funeral when Ben asked me to ride with him because he must talk to me.

We went out to that spot near the creek, and we tethered our horses and sat down.

He said: “How long are we going on like this?”

I replied: “I suppose something will happen. It usually does.”

“It won’t unless we make it. Listen to me, Angel. Are you going to spend your life in this place?”

“God forbid.”

“Do you think Gervaise is ever going to find gold? Enough to make him give up?”

“No … not really. I don’t think anyone will. I know somebody did and started all this. It was a pity. I wish the gold had stayed where it was and nobody knew about it.”

“You can’t go on living like this, Angel.”

“I have felt that.”

“Have you told Gervaise how you feel about it?”

I nodded.

“And he said, ‘We’ll strike gold soon and then we’ll go home,’ eh? Is that what he said?”

“Yes.”

“He won’t find it.”

“Why not? One-Eye and Cassidy did.”

“And suppose he did? What would he do? Go home? It would be gone in a few weeks. Then would you be persuaded to come out and start all over again?”

“Once I was home, I would never come back.”

“I’ll take you home. I’ll give you my word. Come with me … and we’ll go home. We could leave in a few weeks. Say yes, Angel. You don’t know how important it is for you to say yes … now.”

I closed my eyes. It was like having the kingdoms of the world spread before my eyes and being told: This will be yours. Ben … and Home. I would be freed from the perpetual worry of how many debts would be mounting. I should be home … I should see my family. Yet I must say: “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

“Angel …” His arms were about me.

“No, Ben, no. I can’t.”

“You want to.”

I did not answer.

He kissed me and said: “We can’t go on like this … either of us. I know your feelings. You know mine. Look, Angel, I came here to find gold. I vowed I wouldn’t go back until I did. I’d give that up for you. Doesn’t that tell you …?”

“Why did this have to happen now? Why did you come here in the first place? Why didn’t you come back to Cador?”

“It’s no use saying that. It’s too late. You know very well you can’t go back and change things.”

“Oh, Ben … if only I could.”

“We could start from now on. We can make our own way. All we need is the courage to leave this place … to go home and start afresh.”

“What of our families?”

“They would be shocked. We’d live that down. You are too important to your family for them to want to lose you. There would be a fuss at first. But people get used to these things. They always do.”

“I can’t do it, Ben.”

“You could.”

“I can’t. I’m going to have a child.”

“A child! Gervaise’s child!”

“Whose else? He is my husband. It makes a difference, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a complication certainly, but we’d get over that.”

“I couldn’t, Ben.”

“But for this child you would have said yes?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t leave Gervaise.”

“Why not? He is perpetually in debt. He’s playing now … if not in the saloon in one of the shacks. Justin Cartwright is such another, but he seems to know what he is about. Gervaise is a loser. I happen to know he is in debt at the saloon.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes. It will go on like that all your life. Are you going to endure that? Come away with me. We’ll go home. There’ll be a scandal. My grandfather won’t like it, but he has come through worse, I believe. One thing about him, he is no saint, but like most sinners he is not hard on his own kind. It would be all right in time. It would be as it was meant to be from the moment we met. Oh, Angel, don’t turn away from our second chance.”

“There is the child,” I said.

“We’ll look after the child together.”

“But Gervaise will be its father. How could I explain that?”

“You wouldn’t have to. There is no reason why it should know.”

“Secrets. Deception. Oh, I know it would be wrong. Ben, I couldn’t do it. Gervaise would be so hurt. He thinks everything is right between us.”

“He is happy as long as he has the cards in his hands. He’s a gambler, Angel.”

“If he could only find the gold … if we could go home … it would make a difference. I believe I could …”

“You can’t change people, Angel. I can’t change you and you can’t change me. This is important. This is important … today … now … Angel, I have to know. We belong together. I have to make plans. This is very serious. I must have your answer … now.”

“My answer can only be no.”

“Because you don’t love me? Because you haven’t faith enough in me?”

“You know it is not that. It is just that I cannot do this. I cannot leave Gervaise. Particularly now there is to be a baby.”

“You must go home for the child’s sake. Remember Morwenna.”

“It wouldn’t happen to me. I’m stronger than Morwenna.”

“I must have your answer, Angel. You understand why I must have it now.”

“Ben, I can’t. I can’t.”

He had turned away. He was staring at the creek.

“There is little time,” he said. “I must have your answer, Angel. I must, I must.”

“It has to be no. I have married Gervaise. I have made my vows. They are sacred to me. And there is the child. Don’t you see? I could never be happy … either way I cannot be happy. I’ll be frank. I do love you, Ben. It should have been us. But it didn’t work out that way. We were unlucky. Things … got in the way. And here we are. I suppose it has happened to many people before us.”

“We are not concerned with what happens to others. I am offering you happiness. For the last time, Angel … will you take it?”

“I must go home. There is a meal to cook. I have to think of things like that.”

“You should never have been brought to this.”

“I am here and things are as they are.”

“So you have decided.”

“I have to, Ben. I have to.”

His mouth set firmly. I thought he was angry; but he was very gentle as he helped me into the saddle.

I had the news from Mrs. Bowles.

I had gone into the shop to buy a few stores. She greeted me warmly.

“And how is that little darling?” she asked.

She was referring to Pedrek in whom she had established proprietorial rights.

I said he was well.

“Should be, living up there off the fat of the land. It will be nice for Mr. Lansdon to have a mistress in the house. It’s not good for men to live alone. Mind you, I’m saying nothing against that Meg and Minnie. He couldn’t have better to look after him than them. But a wife’s a wife and there’s no gainsaying that.”

“I think he is very well cared for,” I said.

“Meg will still be there with the others. She’ll want all their help in running the house, that’s for certain.”

“Meg?” I said. “Why …? What …?”

Mrs. Bowles burst out laughing. “I was thinking about that Miss Morley.”

“What about her?”

“It’s clear you haven’t heard about the engagement. They say the wedding will be in a few weeks. That’s how things go out here … and Mr. Morley being not in the best of health like … I reckon he’ll be glad to pass his daughter into good hands.”

“I’m afraid I’m rather mystified, Mrs. Bowles.”

“You’re not up to date with the news. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I’ve often said it was a pity he didn’t have a wife up there … but I wouldn’t have thought of Miss Lizzie.”

I began to feel a coldness take possession of me. I could not believe what I was beginning to realize. I must be mistaken.

I said slowly: “Do you mean that Mr. Lansdon is going to marry Miss Lizzie Morley?”

“That’s about it. Well, she’s a dear, sweet thing … no harm in her. It’s just that she’s a little simple. Something went wrong soon after her birth. It was before my day,” she added regretfully, as though if she had been there, Lizzie would have been as bright as the rest of us.

“Are you sure?” I heard myself stammering. “It’s rather … unexpected.”

“I’m sure enough. Congratulated him myself, I did. He smiled and thanked me.”

Everyone in the town was talking about the engagement.

Gervaise said: “It will please old Morley. He’s devoted to that girl; and it must have been a worry to him as to what would become of her when he was gone. It’s just that she’s hardly the sort for Ben. Attraction of opposites, I suppose.”

I could not face Ben. I avoided him as far as possible. Nor did he seek me out. But I had to go to Golden Hall to see Morwenna, for I could not abruptly stop doing that. Every time I went I was afraid I should see him. I had no idea what I should say to him.

I felt his avowal of love for me had been meaningless. I had been duped into thinking it was something else. What had been his motive? The quick seduction of another man’s wife?

I realized I had led a sheltered life. I did not understand people. I made quick judgments. I had with Gervaise and consequently I had suffered because of this.

Morwenna was eager to talk of the news.

She said: “I hope he will be happy. I think he will. Lizzie is such a dear girl. She is happy … blissfully. She always adored him. I think perhaps she is the right sort for him. He is a man who will want his own way and Lizzie would never dream of questioning anything he did. She truly loves him. I have rarely seen anyone so happy. And Mr. Morley, too, he is delighted. I think he has worried a lot about leaving her. I happen to know that he is not in the best of health. He had a slight stroke some little time ago and just before we arrived, Dr. Field told him he would have to go very carefully. He came here, you know, with Lizzie and we had a long discussion. It may be that he was so overjoyed by the engagement that he was off his guard. He said, ‘I’m so glad to see my Liz settled. Ben will know how to look after her. It’s a great relief because, you know, I could pop off at any minute.’ So you see.”

“Yes, I see.”

“The wedding is going to be very soon. There is no point in waiting.”

“No point at all.”

“I expect Mr. Morley will see to that. You can understand a man in his state of health and caring as he does for his daughter … he wants to make sure everything is all right for her before he goes.”

“Yes,” I said. “He is a very good father.”

“When you are a parent you understand these things,” said Morwenna with a certain pride.

All I could think of was: How could he? He must have been contemplating this when he was attempting to become my lover.

I would never trust anyone again.

I don’t know how I lived through the next few weeks. Everything seemed unreal. Each day I awoke in the dreary little shack, Gervaise beside me. He never lost his cheerfulness. I suppose the gambler is a natural optimist and it is an indication of his nature that he can go on saying: “Perhaps this will be the day. Perhaps tonight I shall be a rich man.” And perhaps I should have applauded it. Instead it made me impatient.

On rare occasions he won at cards. Then he would say his luck had turned and it was the beginning of change. He was going to be lucky at the mine as well as at the card table.

I knew that Justin was gambling with him and I wanted to talk of this to Morwenna, but I could never bring myself to do so. In my heart I believed that Justin was every bit the gambler that Gervaise was; but it seemed to affect him differently. He never seemed to be in those financial difficulties which were always hanging over Gervaise.

No one would have suspected this. It was only those to whom Gervaise owed money who were aware of it. He treated all with that nonchalance which I had once called charm.

Perhaps I was finding fault with Gervaise because I was in love with Ben and I was telling myself that all men were deceivers. I had been deceived by Gervaise and, being the fool I was, I had allowed myself to be deceived by Ben.

Now that I had lost him, I realized how much he had meant to me … how I had somehow managed to keep my spirits up by looking to Ben as a means of escape … escape to happiness. Had he really meant he would give all this up if I would go back to England with him? How could he? When he immediately turned to someone else?

But Lizzie Morley! Oh, she was pretty enough … but how could a lively-minded man like Ben marry a girl like Lizzie?

I was in due course to learn the reason.

In the meantime there were those terrible weeks to live through, while the inhabitants of the township talked of little else but the coming wedding.

It was to be held at the Morley house and everyone was invited.

The parson from Walloo would come and perform the official ceremony. It was to take place in the garden before the house. They said that Mr. Morley had sent to Melbourne for the finest caterers and arrangers of weddings to see to everything.

There had never been such an occasion in the memory of the township.

Mrs. Bowles had her comment: “A funeral and then a wedding. I don’t know. That seems a bit funny to me. One coming so close on the heels of another. I wonder what’ll be next. Funeral most like. Can’t expect another wedding, can we? Whose would that be? Well, you never know. I mean to say, who would have thought of this?”

“Ben’s property will be joined up with Morley’s now,” said Gervaise. “Well, they are adjoining.”

Justin’s remark was: “Ben will be pleased to get a stake in Morley’s land at last. He’s been trying to buy it for some time.”

I told myself that that was why he was marrying Lizzie. It must be. He wanted the land. The thought only increased my anger against him.

During the weeks before the wedding I felt convinced that something must happen to stop it. I simply could not believe it would happen. Sometimes I thought I had dreamed the whole thing.

The day came. The weather was perfect, slightly less hot than we had been having. There was great excitement; the mines were deserted. Nobody was going to work on Ben and Lizzie’s wedding day.

Mr. Morley had engaged fiddlers to come and play. Everyone said it was the perfect wedding. Chairs had been set up in the garden in front of the house; there weren’t enough for everyone so some stood about, others squatted on the grass. There was a hushed silence when the parson from Walloo appeared and took his stand at the table which had been set up and Mr. Morley appeared with a radiant Lizzie clad in white and orange blossom. Arthur Bowles came in with Ben; and I closed my eyes as Lizzie and Ben stood together and took their vows.

I wished that I were anywhere but there; but of course I had to come. If I had stayed away people would have wondered why. And I could not feign an illness. Part of me wanted to torment myself. I wanted to see what I had been telling myself up to that moment could never be.

And so Ben and Lizzie were married.

How I longed to go home! I wanted to put this entire episode out of my life. I had been so foolish. I had believed Ben loved me: I feared that on one or two occasions I had come near to surrender. I had been childish. But I felt this betrayal had sent me hurtling into womanhood. I would never trust anyone again. I pleaded with Gervaise: “Do let us go home.”

“I have a feeling it will not be long now,” he said.

“You always say that. Gervaise, I cannot live this life.”

“I know. It’s not pleasant, is it? But be patient, darling … just for a little longer.”

“How long?”

“Till I’m lucky.”

“I somehow feel you are never going to be.”

“How can you say that? Look at Cassidy and One-Eye. They must be on their way home by now.”

“But who else, Gervaise? They are the only ones … after all this time.”

“Tomorrow it will be us.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Oh, but I do. I know that one day. … You’ll be surprised. It will all have been worthwhile.”

“I want to go home in time for the baby.”

“We’ll be home long before it comes.”

What was the use? The lure of gold held him so firmly that it would never let him go. It would always be thus. And if we were at home he would gamble as he had before we came. There was no way out.

I had married a gambler and I was no longer in love with him. I loved someone else—again unwisely and this time too well.

I wished I could have confided in Morwenna but I could not. She would never have understood. Besides, it would make her unhappy, and she was so contented now.

Lizzie had become mistress of Golden Hall. She begged Morwenna to stay.

“I suggested leaving,” Morwenna told me. “It is different now. I ought to go. I am quite well and the baby is strong and healthy. I ought to be in my own home. Lizzie flung her arms round me. She is a most affectionate creature. One can’t help loving her. It’s good to be with her, Angelet. Ben is so gentle with her and as for old Mr. Morley he has slipped into a sort of contentment.”

So Morwenna stayed on at the Hall. Justin went often to dine there. I had not been since the wedding. I supposed I should have to go one day. But not yet. The betrayal was too recent.

Then Mr. Morley died.

His servants went into his bedroom one morning and found that he had died peacefully in his sleep. It was as though, now that he was assured that Lizzie would be cared for, he had quietly departed from this life.

So Mrs. Bowles was right. There was another funeral. Poor Lizzie! She had been all in white and now she was all in black. She had been devoted to her father and now, from complete bliss, she had been dashed into sorrow.

“I am so glad Ben is with her,” said Morwenna. “He is a great comfort to her.”

A message came to me from Ben by way of Morwenna.

She said to me: “Ben asked how you were. He said he had not seen you for some time.”

“Oh … no, I suppose not,” I replied.

“He said that it was a long time since you had ridden. He wants you to know that Foxey is always at your disposal.”

“I don’t get time,” I said shortly.

Morwenna said: “I feel so guilty living here. I ought to come home.”

“Home! Oh, you mean the shack. Don’t be a fool, Morwenna. How could Pedrek live in such a place? You have to stay there for his sake.”

“That’s what I tell myself, but I feel I’m cheating really. Angelet, I don’t know how you stand it. I wish you could come to Golden Hall.”

“How could I?”

“I am sure Lizzie would love to have you.”

“What? As a permanent guest?”

“It just makes me feel guilty. And there is Justin … I should be with him.”

“He is glad you are there. He knows it is best for you.”

“How I wish they could find enough gold to satisfy them and we could go home.”

“Home!” I said wistfully. But I was beginning to believe that I should be no happier there than here. I had been foolish. I had believed him. I had allowed myself to be caught in a snare and now I was trapped.

Then suddenly it all became clear to me.

I received the news, as usual, through Mrs. Bowles.

“You’ve heard, of course.”

“Heard what?” I asked.

“The find.”

“Find? Whose?”

“Gold. On Morley’s land. Well, it’s Ben’s and Lizzie’s now. They say that it’s already something bigger than anything that’s been known before throughout the length and breadth of Australia.”

“On Morley’s land?” I stammered.

“Yes. Do you know that creek … not so far from the house …”

The creek on Morley’s land. Memories came back … sitting there talking to Ben … listening to his avowal of love, watching the sunlight playing on the water of the creek.

“I … yes, I know.”

“Well, that’s where it is. Mr. Ben found it. It’s like that time in fifty-one when that man found six hundred ounces in a day in Ballarat. It was there in the creek … right on the surface … clear as daylight and no one seeing it till Mr. Ben came along. Trust him. Well, it’s a fortune for him now. I don’t reckon he’ll be here long. He’ll be off Home, that’s what.”

It was all becoming clear to me. This was why he had married Lizzie. He had discovered gold in the creek and from then on he had determined it should be his, no matter how he acquired it. What was there to choose between him and Gervaise? They were both the slaves to their Golden Goddess.

It eased my anger against myself, although it increased it towards him. I had been foolish but I could tell myself I had been fortunate in a way. Suppose I had succumbed, and only now I knew how near I had been to doing so … and then I had learned that I had linked my life with another gambler … a different kind it was true, a ruthless, successful one—but the motive was the same.

These men cared first for gold. Everything else came after that.

I heard myself saying to Mrs. Bowles that it was great good fortune.

I could not resist strolling up to the creek.

There were signs of activity. Shafts had already been set up. The peaceful scene was no more. It seemed a long time ago that I had sat there and he had told me he loved me.

I met him as I was coming away.

“Angel,” he said softly. “It’s ages since I’ve seen you.”

“The last time was at your wedding.”

He nodded.

“I hope you’ll be happy.”

“You know I won’t be.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve heard to the contrary.”

He looked at me with longing and although it should not have, it raised my spirits.

I tried to pass him but he put out a hand and caught my arm. “I’d like to talk to you, Angel,” he said.

“Well, talk. But is there anything you have to say to me?”

“I didn’t want it to work out this way.”

“I thought your way was to make things go the way you wanted them to.”

“This marriage …”

“You weren’t forced into it, were you?” I asked, I hoped ironically.

He was silent for a while, then he said: “You know I wanted you. I shall always want you.”

“Hardly what one expects to hear from the newly wedded husband.”

I was pleased with myself. I was doing well, acting flippantly when my heart was leaden, feigning indifference when I was more unhappy than I had ever been in my life before.

“You refused me.”

“How could I have done anything else? I am married and now you are … so that makes two of us. Why don’t we stop this senseless talk, and if that is all you have to say to me …”

“Wait a minute. I must tell you …”

“Let me say Congratulations. The whole town is talking of your discovery. You are the lucky one. That is what you came out for, isn’t it? You must feel gratified. You have achieved your purpose. I hear this discovery is one of the biggest ever.”

“Let me explain to you.”

“What is there to explain? You discovered there was gold on the land. That was why you were so eager to buy.”

“That’s true.”

“That day we talked … I remember your washing your hands in the creek. Something happened … I know it now. Was it then?”

He nodded. “I saw gold then … actually in the creek. If one could see it like that I knew there was a rich store.”

“You didn’t tell Mr. Morley.”

“He wouldn’t have done a thing. He hated the coming of the miners. He wanted to keep the land as it was.”

“It was his land.”

“If you had come to me … I begged you to … I would have abandoned all this …”

“I don’t believe you, Ben. You’re like the rest of them. You’re suffering from the same fever … gold fever. You would never have given up the search for it … especially when you had this evidence.”

“You remember when we sat here … You remember the day I discovered there was gold in the creek. It was after that day that I asked you to come home with me. I would have gone home with you then.”

“After you had helped yourself to the gold here.”

“Listen to me, Angel. I came out here to find it. I vowed I would not go home until I had made my fortune. But I would have gone … if you had come with me.”

“After you had bought this land … After you had unearthed its treasure.”

“Well, I should have been a fool not to.”

“Yes, you would have been a fool, and you would never be that, Ben. There was only one way you could get that land, wasn’t there? By marrying for it.”

“If you had come with me I should never have married Lizzie. I should never have got this land. I’ll be honest. I want the gold … but I wanted you more. I still do. I’d give it all up for you.”

I laughed at him. “I’m not a gullible girl any more, Ben. I understand your ways … and all those of the men here … or most of them. This is an obsession. It’s a fever that takes possession of you all. You can’t break away from it.”

“I tell you this,” he said. “When I have what is on this land …”

“The land you bought through your marriage?”

“I mean this land … I will go home and never want to see another piece of gold.”

“There is no need to tell me all this. I know you, Ben, now. I didn’t before. It is my fault for being so naive.”

“Angel …”

“Goodbye, Ben. There is nothing we have to say to each other now.”

“Angel,” he called as I turned away. “I must see you sometimes …”

“I don’t think you should.”

“You are afraid of your feelings for me.”

I turned on him angrily. “This is a small community. I should hate there to be gossip. It would hurt Lizzie. She is the innocent one in all this, isn’t she? The lamb delivered up for slaughter.”

“Lizzie is very happy now,” he said. “And I intend that she shall remain so.”

“Let us hope she never discovers she was married for a gold mine. Goodbye.”

“If you care to ride Foxey … she is always at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” I said coldly and turned away.

My emotions were in a turmoil.

I wondered how all this would end.

The weeks were passing. There were only five months to go before my child was born. I thought that already it was getting rather late to leave. Even in my present condition I should not fancy the jostling of the Cobb’s coach to Melbourne and the long sea voyage.

I consulted Mrs. Bowles.

“Another little baby!” she cried. “Well, that is good news. I’ll guarantee yours will be easy. I know just by looking at a girl. Now, Mrs. Cartwright, I knew as soon as I saw her that she was going to have a bit of trouble. But you … you’ll be right as rain.”

That optimism which I had noticed when One-Eye and Cassidy had had their find, settled on the township. One person’s luck must mean that others could share in it because if there were alluvial deposits so near the surface on neighboring land it must mean that there were others nearby. It was a reminder that this was indeed gold country.

Gervaise and Justin were working feverishly; at the end of each day the story was the same. Maybe tomorrow will be our lucky day.

“Trust Ben Lansdon,” said Justin enviously. “He hasn’t done too badly in the past and then he alights on this.”

“He had to marry Lizzie Morley to get it,” I said waspishly.

“Well, never mind how he got it,” replied Justin. “He knew the gold was there. That’s what everyone says. That’s why he took on Lizzie. I’ve heard it said that Morley made a bargain with him before he died. Take Lizzie and you get the land.”

“Do you believe that?” I asked.

“Well, it seems to have worked out that way, doesn’t it? He was desperately trying to buy the land … offering a fantastic price, so I understand. Then he gets it through marriage and, hey presto, Gold.”

“Well, I suppose it does seem rather obvious.”

“Ben won’t mind. As long as he achieves his object he’ll be ready to pay the price.”

There was more talk about gold than ever in the past. The men were constantly discussing veins and placers. Veins, Gervaise told me, were like other deposits of metals. In the alluvial deposits—the placers—the metal was found embedded in the soil usually in chambers worn away by water. The fact that it was actually discovered in the creek must show that it was very plentiful in that spot. That was what had aroused Ben’s excitement.

I had watched the men panning many times. There was a special method of doing it—a certain shaking and twisting and gyrating movement, and great care had to be taken to wash away the soil and lose none of the precious metal which might be there.

There were what they called cradles for treating larger quantities of soil; and there was another complicated one called a Tom.

Ben had all methods working. He paid some of the miners to help him and several of them were glad to earn money that way.

More than ever I wanted to get away. I felt there was something evil in this search for gold. I often thought of David Skelling who could not resist the temptation to steal gold which had been found by others, and how he had met his wretched end because of this.

Sometimes I went to the graveyards and looked at the rough stones which had been set up. James Morley. David Skelling. Two who had died since I had come. I shuddered to think that Morwenna or her baby might have been here … but for the grace of God, and the skill of Dr. Field … not forgetting Mrs. Bowles.

Then came the night when Justin was in our shack for a game of cards with Gervaise. More frequently they joined other players in the saloon but this was an evening when it was to be just a friendly game of poker between the two of them.

Before Pedrek’s birth when they had played in one of the shacks, Morwenna and I would be together. We usually went into the bedroom and talked while they played.

On this occasion I was alone as Morwenna was still sleeping at Golden Hall.

I left them and went into the bedroom. I wanted to get away. I found the scene sordid—not so much the shabby room with the candles guttering in their iron sticks, as the intent looks on the faces of the two. It sickened me. It was an outward sign of all that had brought us here away from our families, our homes and a gracious way of life.

Suddenly I heard a shout from the other side of the partition, the sound of a chair’s being pushed back, raised voices.

I ran into the next room. The two men were on their feet glaring at each other across the table.

“Cheat!” Gervaise was shouting. “I saw that. You can’t deny it.”

Justin’s face was very white. He said nothing. I saw the cards on the table. The ace and king of hearts were uppermost.

Gervaise said in a cold voice: “So this is it. This is the reason for your winnings. You’re a cheat, Cartwright. A card sharper …”

Justin stammered: “It was … a mistake …”

“A mistake to get caught.” Gervaise walked round the table. He pulled Justin up by his coat. He was several inches taller than Justin. He lifted him and shook him as though he were a dog. Then he threw him from him. Justin stumbled and went sprawling against the wall.

He stood up slowly. I thought he was going to run at Gervaise, who stood there waiting for him.

I put myself between them. “Stop it,” I cried. “Stop it. I won’t have fighting here.”

“He’s a cheat and a liar,” said Gervaise. I had never seen him cold like that before. He was a different man. Never had I seen him so furiously angry. But this was because I had never been present when the rules of this sacred matter had been violated.

I said: “Justin, I think it would be better if you left … now.”

“I shall never play with him again,” declared Gervaise. And I had never heard such coldness in his voice as I did then.

Justin did not speak. He was deflated. I thought: It’s true then. He cheats at cards. It is why he has the luck. Oh, poor Morwenna. Gervaise was a gambler but at least he was an honest one.

Justin slunk out. The door shut behind him.

“This,” I said, “is very upsetting.” I scooped up the cards on the table and put them into a drawer. “I don’t suppose you will want to play again in a hurry,” I said.

“Not with that card sharper. He will not play again in this place. Nobody will play with him when they know.”

Gervaise sat down and stared ahead of him. I sat opposite him. I said: “Shall you tell them?”

“What else can I do? How can I let him sit down at a table knowing what I do?”

“Perhaps he only did it once … in sudden temptation.”

He shook his head. “He was too practiced for that. I wondered some days ago. His luck was almost too good to be true. I think he has been doing it for years. He’s too good at it. It must be long practice. I wondered the other night when he kept coming up with the right cards. Then I watched. He’s clever. You have to be sharp. Well, tonight I was sharp.”

I was silent for a while. I thought: How I hate this gambling. How I hate this place. I want to leave and never see it again.

I said: “What will this mean? You will tell?”

“What else can I do?”

“What of Morwenna?”

“What has she to do with this?”

“She is his wife. Does this mean that it is the end of friendship between you and Justin?”

“You can’t expect me to be friends with a man like this, can you? I’ve caught him red-handed.”

“What shall we tell Morwenna?”

“She’ll know the truth, that’s all.”

“She can’t. She will be too upset.”

Gervaise stared at me incredulously.

“You don’t mean that I should let this pass! Go on as though nothing has happened because Morwenna will be upset?”

“She has not entirely recovered from the birth of Pedrek. Don’t you understand? It was a terrible ordeal. She nearly died. She mustn’t be upset. If she is, the baby will be upset. Remember it was touch and go. They both still need care.”

“I can’t let Justin Cartwright play with others, knowing what I know. At home he would be drummed out of any club. There would be a scandal if anyone was caught cheating as he has been.”

“For the sake of your precious game you would run the risk of harming Morwenna and her baby!”

Gervaise looked at me in bewilderment.

I said: “I know what we’ll do. I’ll go and see Justin. I’ll make him promise not to play for a while. And if he does promise, will you give me your word not to say anything about what happened tonight to anyone … just for a while?”

“You don’t understand, Angelet.”

“I do understand too well. This wretched gambling means more to you than anything. Everything can be thrust aside for it. Look at what it has brought us to. There are debts at home and debts here … and all because you have followed this urge … always you lose today and will win tomorrow. And now you are going to tell all those gamblers what Justin has done. Justin is Morwenna’s husband. She loves him. I will not have her upset. Gervaise, you have to promise me that you will say nothing of what happened tonight to anyone …”

“I cannot let him play … knowing this.”

“It’s against the gamblers’ ethics, I know. It is all right to risk money they haven’t got … to plunge deeper and deeper into debt … to bring misery to their families … but to break their silly rules is a mortal sin.”

Gervaise was fast becoming his old self. His choler had disappeared. He was tender and gentle. “You are so vehement, Angelet,” he said soothingly.

“I won’t have Morwenna upset. She could so easily be now. She is getting on so well living in comfort at Golden Hall. Lizzie is so good to her and loves to have her and the baby there. Gervaise, she must not know about this.”

“I won’t let him sit down and play with others, knowing what I do,” he said.

“If he promised not to play …”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would. He’s got to.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see him. No … don’t come with me. I’m going alone.”

I ran out to the nearby shack. Justin was sitting at the table, his head in his hands.

“Justin,” I said.

He looked up and saw me.

“Angelet …”

“I want to talk to you.”

I went to the table and sat on the other side so that we were facing each other.

“I’m sorry it happened,” he said.

“Do you always cheat?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Is it … your profession?”

“I had to do something,” he said. “I’m not much good at anything else.”

“Morwenna’s father offered you a job working with him.”

He looked at me ruefully. “Not much in my line.”

“Justin, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I’m ruined.”

“Gervaise has promised me that he will tell no one for a while.”

“What?”

“Provided you don’t play.”

“He will tell.”

“No, he won’t.’ He’s promised me not to. It mustn’t be known. Morwenna must not know.”

He looked frightened.

I went on: “I can’t imagine what she would think. It would break her heart. She is so proud of you. And there is the baby. I won’t have Morwenna knowing.”

“No,” he murmured. “She mustn’t know.”

“Gervaise will do nothing for a while at least if you will promise not to play.”

He looked at me piteously.

I said: “You live by it, don’t you? Is that what you do in London?”

He did not speak and that told me enough. What had we done, Morwenna and I? It seemed that she had made a greater mistake than I had. Gervaise was weak but at least he was not a cheat.

“It’s got to stop, Justin,” I said. “You were bound to get caught sooner or later.”

He said: “If I could only strike gold I’d never touch another card. Why does it always go to those who have enough already? Look at Ben Lansdon.”

“He didn’t gamble away what he won, did he? He put it to a useful purpose.”

“Yes … and now he’s married to a gold mine.”

“Don’t be bitter, Justin. It seems to me that there is little to choose between any of you. But I want your promise that you will not play again until it is decided what we shall do. I’ll talk to Gervaise again. I want everything to go on as though this hasn’t happened. But you will not play cards again. As soon as you do, Gervaise will tell. He believes it is a matter of honor to do so.”

“There is nothing I can do but agree.”

“It is better not to rush into anything. Both you and Gervaise will feel differently about all this tomorrow. You can’t be enemies. After all, you are working together.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll promise.”

I stood up.

“You must … for Morwenna’s sake.”

He nodded and as I went out, he murmured: “Thank you, Angelet.”

There was an uneasy truce between the two men. I wondered how long it could last. They scarcely addressed a word to each other which was not in connection with their work. One would be deep down in the earth digging, the other winding up the pails of earth to bring them to the surface.

I had ceased to be interested in the methods of working; my revulsion to the whole matter was growing daily. The frantic desire for gold I saw in the faces of those men repelled me; the greed and, after the first exultation at someone’s find—simply because they thought the same thing could happen to them—the bitter envy. Lust for gold … envy of others … I could see why they were two of the most deadly sins.

I longed more than ever to be away from the place, to go home, to the excitement of London, the peace of Cador; they seemed like heavenly bliss to me.

I was growing listless. I supposed that was because of my condition. I thought constantly of the baby. How happy I could be if I were at home and my child could be brought up as I and all my family had been … in comfortable surroundings. But to have a child here! How could I bring up a child in this squalor?

Everywhere I looked there was disaster. I was anxious about the situation with Justin, although I confess I had little sympathy with him. My thoughts were all for Morwenna who might discover in due course that her husband was a cheat. Poor Morwenna, she was less worldly than I. How would she take it?

I longed for something to happen, something which would take me away from this increasingly unpleasant situation in which I found myself.

My prayers were answered … but not in the way I had expected.

Afterwards I learned a little about the methods which were used in the mines. When gold had first been discovered here in the early fifties, mining had been comparatively simple. That was when the presence of gold had been found to exist in the valleys … the deposit formed in dried-up streams. It was near the surface of the earth. That was soon discovered and mined. But now they had to dig deeper down into the earth and that was why deep shafts had to be sunk. After one or two fatal accidents, it was realized that the clay, gravel and sand had to be shored up with wood.

When the earth which might contain gold was brought to the surface it was put into wheelbarrows and taken to water to be what they called puddled and washed by means of the cradle, to separate the soil from the gold.

It was a disheartening process; and again and again the results of their efforts were fruitless. Now and again there was the tiny speck … nothing much in itself, but a reason for hope.

As the shaft grew deeper and deeper, naturally the danger increased. There were poisons from rotting vegetation. There was one young man in the town who was a permanent invalid. He had worked with his father and had been down below when there had been a slight fall of earth which meant it was some hours before they could dig him out. As a result he had a perpetual cough and it was obvious that he was slowly dying.

So it was very necessary that the timber which propped up the sides of the shaft was strong enough to hold back the earth.

It was early afternoon. I was on my way to the store. I knew Mrs. Bowles would want to know how little Pedrek was faring: she would listen to accounts of his actions, head on one side, lips pursued, sparkling with self-congratulatory pleasure. Her child, the one who might never have been brought into the world but for her skill.

Just as I was about to enter the shop, I heard the shouts. I stood listening. Mrs. Bowles came out of the shop and stood beside me, her eyes grave.

Men had left their work and were running to a certain spot.

“There’s trouble,” said Mrs. Bowles. “Arthur! Quick!”

Arthur joined us and we ran with the crowd. I felt a fearful apprehension for they were running in the direction of our shaft.

I was on the edge of the crowd.

I saw Gervaise. Men were crowding round him. I tried to push towards him.

I heard someone say: “Someone’s down there.”

“It’s Cartwright. It must be …” said another.

“Gervaise!” I called. “Gervaise.”

He did not hear me.

“What’s happening?” I said.

One of the men turned and looked at me. “Timber must have given way.”

I came a little nearer. It was not easy to force my way through.

Gervaise said: “He’s down there. I’m going to get him.”

“You’re a fool, man,” said Bill Merrywether, one of the oldest and most experienced of the miners. “You’d never do it.”

“I’m going,” repeated Gervaise.

“Gervaise! Gervaise!” I cried.

He turned briefly and gave me a smile of tenderness.

Bill Merrywether attempted to restrain him but he pushed him aside. I watched him disappear down the shaft.

Someone turned and looked at me. It was one of the miners.

“It’s all right, me dear,” he said.

Someone else said: “He’s crazy. It’ll be the two of ’em now.”

“What’s going on?” I begged. “Tell me.”

Mrs. Bowles was beside me. She put an arm round me. “It’s a fall,” she said. “It will be all right.”

“My God,” said someone. “He’s got guts.”

“Gone in to save his mate.”

“Madness. Suicide.”

Nobody answered.

I tried to fight my way to the head of the mine, but several of them held me back.

“You can’t do nothing,” said one of the miners. “We’ve just got to wait, my dear, to be ready if …”

I don’t know how long it was. Time stood still. The silence was intense. All that sky … the scene which had become so repugnant to me … and all these people now joined together as though in silent prayer.

How long? I do not know. Seconds … minutes … hours. I kept thinking of them in that room, Gervaise glaring at Justin. Gervaise the gambler, Justin the cheat … and they were down in the mine together … the mine I had always subconsciously feared and hated.

There was a sudden shout.

Something was happening. As one person we moved towards the mine.

I saw Justin then. He was unconscious. Gervaise was holding him, pushing him upwards. Several men had rushed forward. They had Justin now. They had dragged him out. For a moment I glimpsed Gervaise. I saw his face triumphant … grimed with dirt. I saw the flash of his white teeth.

And then there was a rumbling sound. Someone reached out to seize him … but he was no longer there.

We heard the terrible sound of falling earth. The shaft had collapsed … taking Gervaise with it.

It took them four hours to dig him out. There was mourning throughout the township for a brave man. And I had become a widow.

Justin was carried to the shack. Morwenna left Golden Hall and came to him. He was shaken and bruised but there was nothing from which he could not recover.

My emotions were in too much turmoil for me to think clearly. I believed many of them were concerned for me. There was I, six months pregnant, having lost my husband in dramatic circumstances.

Morwenna insisted on looking after me, as well as Justin.

She could not speak of Gervaise’s heroic deed, but I knew it was uppermost in her mind.

The whole of the township wanted to take care of me. They did all they could to help—each in his or her own way. I was deeply touched and I thought how disaster brought out the best in people. The good and the evil, they were there in us all. Recently I had thought a great deal about the lust for gold, the greed and the envy. I had seen it in this place so clearly where now I saw the caring compassion.

I thought often of Gervaise, remembering the happy times—how kind he had been on our wedding night; how gentle he had always been to me. I forgot that incident at the auberge; I forgot the debts. When one has lost someone one has loved, one remembers only the good things.

I had a great deal to think about; my future had changed.

Ben came to see me.

He sat in the shack and looked at me sorrowfully.

“Oh, Angel, what can I say? If there is anything I can do to help …”

I smiled. “That is what everyone is saying to me.”

“If only …”

I looked at him pleadingly. I knew what he was going to say and I could not bear it.

“I suppose you will go home now,” he said.

I nodded. “I shall have to wait until the child is born.”

He looked round the shack. “I hate to think of you in this place.”

“I’ll be all right. It has happened to others.”

“And only Mrs. Bowles. I shall have Dr. Field here. He shall stay at the Hall.”

I smiled wanly. “You are forgetting, Ben. This is nothing to do with you.”

“Every concern of yours is mine, too.”

“How is the mine going?”

He did not answer. He looked very sad.

I said: “Everyone here is so kind to me.”

“I shall make sure everything is done … everything possible.”

“Thank you, Ben. It was good of you to call.”

“You speak as though I am just one of the others.”

“That, Ben, is really what you have become.”

“I’ll talk to you later. At the moment you are too shocked.”

I said, “Thank you,” and he left me.

Gervaise was buried in the graveyard. They gave him a hero’s funeral. The parson came from Walloo to preside.

It was very moving. I was there, Morwenna on one side of me, Justin on the other. I was a pathetic figure … the widow soon to bear the dead man’s child … the man who had died a most heroic death and had won the admiration of every single one of them.

The parson spoke of him most movingly.

“His death is an example of the supreme sacrifice. His friend was in danger. No one could have expected him to take such a terrible risk. But he did not hesitate. They had come out together; they had worked together in amity; they were friends.”

Visions of them, facing each other across the card table, came to me … Gervaise, departed from his usual nonchalance, blazing with anger; Justin crouching before him: Gervaise seizing Justin and shaking him as though he were a dog.

“Greater love hath no man than he who layeth down his life for his friend,” said the parson.

I saw that many of those present were openly weeping.

And so they laid Gervaise to rest not far from the remains of David Skelling.

I thought: He will never go home now. He will never find that fortune which he was so sure would be his.

Poor Gervaise. He had always lost.

Morwenna had left Golden Hall, much to Lizzie’s sorrow. She visited us frequently and was constantly bringing gifts for the baby. She was worried about me, too.

“Angelet,” she said, “you must go and stay at the Hall. Your baby must be born there.”

“Oh no,” I said. “Thank you, but that is not possible. You are so good to us all and it is so kind …”

“But I want you to come,” she insisted, her eyes filling with tears. “I love little babies.”

“We have to be in our own homes, Lizzie,” I said. “We just cannot go into other people’s.”

“Ben wants you to come.” She smiled triumphantly. “He says he is going to insist.”

“I couldn’t, Lizzie.”

She thrust that aside. I could see she thought Ben’s wish must be law.

I had long talks with Justin and Morwenna.

“We’re going home,” said Morwenna with delight. “We have decided that, haven’t we, Justin? I have written to Pa and Mother. They’ll be so very pleased. They’ve hated our being so far away. We are going to take you with us, Angelet.”

I looked down at my spreading figure.

“We’re going to wait,” said Morwenna. “We’ve worked it all out. We won’t go before the baby is born. You couldn’t travel yet and then you wouldn’t want to until the baby is, say … six months old.”

“That will be nearly nine months. You wouldn’t want to wait all that time. You’d better go now. I’ll make my own way home.”

“Of course we wouldn’t do that, would we, Justin? You see, if you know that you are going, it is not so bad. You count the days … You tick them off as they pass and you know it’s getting nearer. What is so dreadful is not knowing when it is going to end. We want to wait for nine months, don’t we, Justin?”

Justin answered: “Yes, we do and we shall. We’re not going to leave you here, Angelet. We shall all go back together. After all, even if we weren’t going to wait for you we couldn’t just walk out. In the meantime I shall get someone to help me work the mine.”

“Oh Justin, you can’t go down there again … after what happened.”

“I think I know where it went wrong. There was so much damp down there that the wood rotted. You get to learn these things, you know. You don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

“I know you are longing to get away after all you went through … particularly Justin. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

But they would not hear of it.

Later I talked to Justin alone.

He said: “I feel so ashamed. Only you in this place can know how ashamed I feel.”

“It’s all over,” I said. “Gervaise is dead. Only the three of us knew what happened on that night. You can’t go on thinking of it forever.”

“We had not spoken in friendship … since it happened,” he went on. “He despised me, I know he did. I saw it in his eyes …”

“Yes,” I said. “Cheating at cards. It was the ultimate sin. Gervaise was obsessed by gambling …”

“So many of us are.”

“Are you going to give it up?”

He looked helplessly into space.

I said: “You could go home. There would be a place for you with Morwenna’s father …”

“I know. I’m going to try. I feel I can never forget this. It was so noble of him.”

“There was a lot of nobility in Gervaise.”

“Oh yes. He hated me. He despised me. There was no need for him to come down like that. If he had not, he would be here today. I should be lying where he is. Why did he do it? He knew what a risk he was taking.”

“He liked to take risks. He was a gambler right to the end. He thought he could win … always. He was betting then against the biggest odds ever. But this time he was betting for a different reason. Not for gain … but for another man’s life.”

“And he lost,” said Justin.

“No, he won. He saved your life, Justin. That was his aim.”

I turned away to hide my emotion.

“Oh, Angelet, I’m sorry. I should have been the one. I’m the unworthy one.”

I said: “You have made Morwenna happy. That is wonderful. You have your son. You will love him and care for him. Justin, we have to forget what we have done in the past. We have to grow better for our experiences … we have to learn from them.”

He looked at me very seriously and said: “I shall do all I can for you, Angelet. I shall try to repay Gervaise through you.”

The weeks passed. Everyone in the township wanted to show their appreciation to the widow of a hero.

Morwenna was my constant companion. She was very happy at the prospect of going home. She talked of it most of the time. “Eight more months … the time will soon be gone.”

Justin had taken a partner with whom he worked—John Higgs, who would take over the claim when he left. They had shored up the mine afresh and everyone declared it was as “safe as houses” now—however safe they were.

I believe it must have been something of an ordeal to descend the mine after what had happened to him; but he did. I daresay he was spurred on by the hope that he would find gold after all. What a wonderful conclusion to his life at Golden Creek that would be … to have escaped death to find a fortune.

Nothing so spectacular happened; there were the trivial finds now and then—just enough to raise hopes. He played cards occasionally. I wondered if he cheated. I did not ask. I did not want to know.

I no longer wanted to make hasty judgments of people. One could not know them … ever, it seemed. I thought often of Gervaise … sadly, nostalgically, remembering so much of him that I had loved. Whenever I thought of our escape from the auberge I would supplant that image with one of the hero and remember the last glimpse I had had of him, the dirt caking his hair and streaking down his face—Gervaise the elegant man about town as I had first seen him. I would always remember the look of triumph on his face when he had brought up Justin. He had gambled his life and lost it but he had won in the end because his goal had been to save Justin, the man whom he despised as a cheat.

My thoughts were now centered on my baby which was the best thing that could happen to me.

I did not want to dwell on the past. I wanted to put all that behind me. I did not want to think of Ben and Lizzie. I did not want to remember how I might so easily have been unfaithful to Gervaise; I did not want to think of the disappointment and disillusion I had suffered from Gervaise. It was all over. The new life with the baby was about to begin.

One day when I was in the store Mrs. Bowles said to me: “I’ve arranged everything. We’re going to have the rooms Mrs. Cartwright had when young Pedrek was born.”

“What!” I said.

“Now … now … this is a time when you don’t have to think at all. You leave everything to me. I’m to have the room next to yours and we’ll go there a week before the baby is due. It’s all been fixed.”

“I haven’t fixed it, Mrs. Bowles.”

“I have … with Mr. Lansdon and Miss Lizzie. We’re going to send for Dr. Field. He’ll be staying for a night or two at the Hall. The first signs of the baby and Jacob will ride over to fetch him.”

“I can’t … have all these arrangements made for me, Mrs. Bowles.”

“Here. Don’t you get into a fratchet. Not good for the little ’un … that sort of thing. We don’t want him poking his nose out to see what all the fuss is about do we … not before we’re ready for him.”

“But I want to be in my own place.”

“No place for a baby. What could have happened to Mrs. Cartwright, do you think … if she hadn’t been in the right place … with the right people there on the spot?”

“I’m different.”

“No, you’re not. Women is all one and the same all the world over … specially at times like this. Now you stop worrying. It’s all fixed. Why, if you go on like this folks’ll think you’ve got something against them there up at the Hall.”

Then I realized that I had to give in—for the baby’s sake as well as for “what folks would think.”

I have to admit I did so with a certain relief. Morwenna had been extremely worried at the prospect of my having the baby here—and so had I.

I would forget from whom the hospitality came. After all, my child’s life was more important than my pride.

My time was near. I was greatly looking forward to having my child. And soon we should be leaving. I longed for the time to pass. I heard a good deal of talk about Morley’s Mine. Presumably it was more productive than even had been thought in the first place. Ben had always been the most respected man in the town; now he assumed an almost godlike aura. He had found gold; he had contrived to make it his. It was something they all admired.

They knew, of course, that he had married Lizzie for it. Lizzie must have known, too. But as they were both satisfied with the bargain, I remarked to Morwenna, what did it matter what was the motive behind it?

Morwenna was romantic. “I would rather think that he had fallen in love with Lizzie and married her for that reason … and then discovered gold on the land. After all she is pretty and appealing and so sweet-natured. I don’t think she has ever had an evil thought against anyone in her life. And he would want to protect her. Strong men like to have someone to protect.”

I smiled at her. She was so innocent. I rejoiced that we had managed to keep Justin’s disgrace from her.

In due course I went to Golden Hall. Ben was there with Lizzie, when I arrived in the company of Mrs. Bowles.

“I’m glad you have come,” said Ben.

“It was not really necessary. It was all arranged for me.”

He just put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Lizzie insisted.”

“Yes, I did,” said Lizzie delightedly. “And Ben said you must come, too, didn’t you, Ben?”

I was taken to the room I was to occupy. How different from the shanty! No, I could not have let my baby be born there.

Mrs. Bowles bustled round in profound appreciation for her own efficiency. In due course Dr. Field arrived.

It was a simple and uncomplicated birth and I experienced a thrill of joy when they laid my little girl in my arms.

I said that what I had wanted more than anything was a little girl.

“It is so nice,” said Morwenna, “because Pedrek is a boy. Perhaps when they grow up they’ll marry.”

“I insist that you allow my child time to get out of her cradle before you plunge her into matrimony,” I said.

We talked of names.

Morwenna wanted her to be called Bennath which was Cornish, she told me, for “blessing.”

“And that,” she said, “is what this child is going to be for you, Angelet.”

Bennath … I thought: People will call her Ben or Bennie. I could not have that. It would remind me of him.

What I wanted to do was take my child away and forget this place … and all that had happened in it.

I would go home where perhaps it would be possible to start afresh.

I finally decided on Annora Rebecca—Annora after my mother and Rebecca because I liked it. “But we shall call her Rebecca,” I said, “because it is always awkward to call two in one family by the same name.”

So Rebecca she became.

She flourished. I stayed on at Golden Hall. I said it was for the baby’s sake; but I wanted to be there, too.

I could not face going back to the shack.

Mrs. Bowles stayed with me and taught me all the things one has to learn about babies. And I found myself happier than I had been for a long time.

I wrote to my parents and told them about Rebecca and that I should be with them as soon as my baby was old enough to travel. I had written in detail of Gervaise’s death and I had had letters from them urging me to come home as soon as possible.

We were ready to leave. Justin had been to Melbourne to book our passages on the Southern Cross and all being well we should arrive in England in about three months’ time.

It would be spring there and here the winter would be starting. Winter in the township was hard to bear; although the heat of the summer could perhaps be equally trying. I noticed the envious looks which were cast in my direction. We were the lucky ones even if we had not found gold. We were going home.

I was in the shack one day packing up the last of my things when Ben came in. In two days we were to take the Cobb’s coach to Melbourne.

He shut the door and stood against it looking at me.

“So soon,” he said, “you will be gone. Oh, Angel, what a mess we have made of everything.”

“What? You … the envy not only of Golden Creek but the whole of Australia!”

“It wasn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

“It was the way you made it be.”

“It is going to be very dull here when you have gone.”

I tried to laugh and said: “I have hardly been the life and soul of the party.”

“You know what you have been to me.”

“I remember what you have told me … in the past,” I replied.

“I shall always love you, Angel. Everything was against us. When I was free you were not … and now. … Who would have thought …?”

I wanted to be flippant. I felt I had to be before I broke down and betrayed my true feelings. That, above all, I must not do. “Are you implying,” I said, “that Gervaise might have timed his exit more conveniently to suit you?”

He looked aghast.

I went on: “Perhaps you should be grateful. Just suppose I had listened to you. Suppose I had left with you as you suggested … I should still be a woman without a husband and you a man without a gold mine.”

“You were more important to me than the mine.”

“Remember your vow. You weren’t coming back until you found gold … a lot of it. Well, now you have.”

“I shall come back,” he said. “Soon.”

“Not while the mine yields up such rewards, Ben.”

He came towards me but I held back.

“No, it is over,” I said. “Over? Well, it never was, was it?”

“I should never have come to this place. I should have come back to Cador. I should never have left Cador. I should have insisted on staying with you.”

“It is all in the past, Ben. I shall leave here and everything will seem different when I get home. I have my child. I shall begin a new life. This is over … finished … It is going to be as though it never was.”

“You won’t forget. You did care for me.”

I said: “I shall try to forget, and if I ever do look back and feel the slightest bit sad, I shall say to myself: He married Lizzie. He married her because he knew there was a gold mine on her father’s land and that was the only way he could get his hands on it.”

“It is not a flattering picture, is it, Angel?”

“Oh … I’m not judging. It has made Lizzie happy. It has given you what you want. Lizzie’s father died contented because of it. I suppose there is good in everything. I have my child now. You have your mine. You see, we both have a great deal to be thankful for.”

“It is not goodbye, you know. I shall soon be in England.”

“Oh no, Ben. There must be more gold in that mine … yet.”

“Gold! Gold! You think of nothing but gold.”

“No, Ben, I only talk of it. You live for it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do … absolutely. Enjoy what you have and don’t reach for the impossible. That is what I am going to do. You must go now.”

He went to the door and looked back at me.

“Angel, please don’t forget me.”

He was gone. I went to the door and leaned against it. A terrible desolation swept over me.

Then I went to Rebecca’s cot. She was awake. She looked at me wonderingly and then I saw recognition in her eyes. I saw what seemed to me a smile of contentment.

I thanked God for Rebecca.

Two days later we left. It seemed that everyone in the township had come to see us off.

Our baggage had been sent to the docks a week before and now we ourselves were ready to board the coach.

There were handshakes and good wishes; signs of envy and the nostalgia for home were more evident than usual.

Ben was there with Lizzie. He looked very sad; so did she.

“Both of the little babies going,” sighed Lizzie.

Ben took my hand.

“Don’t forget us. Don’t forget me.”

I looked at him intently and I said: “Do you think I ever could?”

The words would have seemed normal enough to any listener, but both of us knew they meant something special.

Then we were off. I looked out of the window until we had passed through the town. I had longed to go and now I could only think: I may never see him again.

But Rebecca was in my arms; and as I held her warm body against my own I knew I had a great deal to live for.