THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
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 LOS ANGELES 
 
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 No. 220 
 
 NULMA 
 
 AN ANGLO-AUSTRALIAN ROMANCE
 
 MRS. CAMPBELL-PRAED'S BOOKS. 
 
 Mrs. Tregaskiss. A Novel of Anglo- 
 Australian Life. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 "A fascinating love tale." — Eimira Telegram. 
 
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 life on the big ranges of Australia none have made them more 
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 Outlaw and Lawmaker. i2mo. Paper, 
 
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 "The story is thoroughly entertaining and the charac- 
 ters are admirably drawn." — New York Tribune. 
 
 " December Roses." 121110. Paper, 
 
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 " For nobility of conception, delicacy of touch, and sus 
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 Baltimore A merican. 
 
 "A bright little story, told with the author's usual pic- 
 turesque liveliness of coloring." — London Literary World. 
 
 " Christina Chard." i2mo. Paper, 
 
 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " Mrs. Campbell. Praed has written several interesting 
 novels, but none more thoroughly so and more exquisitely 
 finished in styleth an ' Christina Chard.' This novel is one 
 to be studied as well as read." — Bcston Advertiser. 
 
 "The story is brightly written, is full of wit and sar- 
 casm, and is sure to please the lover of spirited fiction." — 
 Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 New York: D. Appleton & Co., 72 Fifth Avenue.
 
 NULMA 
 
 AN ANGLO-AUSTRALIAN ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. CAMPBELL-PRAED 
 
 AUTHOR OF MRS. TREGASKISS, CHRISTINA CHARD, 
 OUTLAW AND LAWMAKER, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1897
 
 Copyright, 1897, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
 
 si gi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I. — On deck i 
 
 II. — The state entry 18 
 
 III. — In the piazza 31 
 
 IV. — Nulma's compact 45 
 
 V. — The government house reception . . 65 
 
 VI. — Van Vechten's love 86 
 
 VII. — Nulma's first dinner party .... 100 
 
 VIII. — Confidences . . . . « . . 117 
 
 IX.— "IS IT ALL PAST?" I38 
 
 X. — Lady Arthur's martyrdom .... 152 
 
 XI. — The birthday ball 166 
 
 XII. — The triumphal progress 182 
 
 XIII. — The sprig of wattle 198 
 
 XIV. — The woman strikes 216 
 
 XV. — Nulma's fate 234 
 
 XVI. — The home-coming . 247 
 
 XVII.— The ordeal 262 
 
 XVIII. — "There's no third place in it" . . . 274 
 
 V 
 
 1501471
 
 NULMA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON DECK. 
 
 There was at this time much excitement in 
 Leichardt's Land. The Governor had finished his 
 term of office, and a new Governor was about to 
 take his place. There were also other changes in 
 the general administration of law and order. The 
 first Chief Justice who had come out with the Gov- 
 ernor on the formation of the colony into a separate 
 independency was dead, and his successor, ap- 
 pointed in England — a cause of offence to the 
 Leichardtstonians — was to arrive at the same time 
 as the new Governor. The Leichardtstonians were 
 not altogether pleased at the choice that had been 
 made in the matter of their new Governor. They 
 were a little spoiled. The former Administrator 
 and the inaugurator as well of their political inde- 
 pendence, had been a young man of mark in his 
 way, and of considerable intellectual endowments. 
 Moreover, he had brought out as his bride a lady 
 who was very beautiful — a foreigner of high birth
 
 2 NULMA. 
 
 and great social attractions, who had at once cap- 
 tivated the warm-hearted Lcichardtstonians. To 
 be sure, the colony was a baby, so to speak, and 
 had no right to expect the best that was going; 
 but babies are proverbially exacting and loud- 
 voiced in their complaints; and Leichardt's Land 
 felt aggrieved, and declared openly that if she were 
 not good enough to have a peer, like two of her 
 sister colonies, or an ex-diplomat of some distinc- 
 tion and wealth like another, she should at least 
 have been given something better than a worn- 
 out soldier, whose health and energy had been 
 sapped by African fevers in his last governorship; 
 who was only a commoner, and not a wealthy one, 
 and who was, moreover, a widower. 
 
 That last fact certainly might, under some con- 
 ditions, have been a recommendation; but it was 
 generally known that Colonel Burnside, as the new 
 Governor was named, did not care for society, and 
 was too old to think of altering his state. Matrons 
 and maids wailed loudly, declaring that Government 
 House would never be again what it had been in 
 dear Lady Randal's time; and there had been even 
 talk of a protest on the part of Leichardt's Land 
 to her Majesty's Government. 
 
 In the midst of the general discontent there 
 came a drop of balm into the cup of bitterness. 
 Though the new Governor was a widower, it be- 
 came known that his late wife had been the sister 
 of the present Marquis of Kelvin, and that the lady
 
 ON DECK. 3 
 
 who would do the honours of Government House 
 was a certain Lady Arthur Keefe, wife of Colonel 
 Burnside's nephew by marriage, whom he was 
 bringing out as his private secretary. To have a 
 Lady Arthur, a Marquis's daughter-in-law, at the 
 head of social affairs was the next best thing to hav- 
 ing a genuine peeress, and Leichardt's Town was 
 to a certain extent comforted. 
 
 Of course, Lord Arthur Keefe was only a fourth 
 son, and it was agreed that he must be poor to ac- 
 cept such an appointment, which took away from 
 the consolation. But again it was suggested that 
 he, too, might have delicate lungs, like the new 
 Chief Justice, that eminent barrister, Outram Ken- 
 ward, O. C, who was throwing up a successful prac- 
 tice and good prospects as a likely member of Par- 
 liament solely because his doctor had declared it 
 absolutely necessary that he should pass several 
 years in a warm, dry climate, the air of Leichardt's 
 Land, it is well known, being a certain preventive 
 against tendency to consumption. 
 
 There was a good deal of speculation rife about 
 Lady Arthur. In those days volumes of Burke and 
 Debrett were not plentiful in Leichardt's Land, for 
 social exigencies did not often require the consulta- 
 tion of a table of precedence; but in time it became 
 duly established that, oddly enough, she also was 
 a foreigner; presumably, however, nobody of dis- 
 tinction, for she was set down simply as Marguerite, 
 daughter of one Charles Mallalieu — without even
 
 4 NULMA. 
 
 a " de " — of Brussels. Then it was whispered that 
 she was a little older than her husband, and that 
 she, like the brilliant Lady Randal, was very hand- 
 some and very charming, so that though the elder 
 ladies of Leichardt's Town, most of whom were of 
 English extraction, frowned, the young married 
 women and the girls plucked up heart, for they 
 now felt pretty certain that there would be good 
 times at Government House, after all. 
 
 The object of this discussion suspected some- 
 thing of what was being said about her. She was 
 sitting on the deck of the man-of-war which had 
 been sent on from the capital of the next colony 
 to convey the new Governor to Leichardt's Town, 
 the small coasting steamer not being in those days 
 considered good enough for such distinguished 
 passengers. It was the evening before they were 
 to arrive at their destination. Lady Arthur was 
 lying upon a deck-chair, her profile showing clearly 
 in the moonlight against a background of bulwarks, 
 and, as the vessel lurched, of deep blue sky in which 
 the Southern constellations shone palely. She was 
 certainly a very pretty woman, more charming, 
 perhaps, than absolutely pretty, with that charm 
 of a certain exotic type — creamy skin, narrow oval 
 face, slightly aquiline nose, a seductive sort of smile, 
 full-lidded, short-sighted-looking dark eyes, with 
 arched brows and crinkly dark hair, parted above 
 the brows. She had something of the foreign man- 
 ner of gesticulation too, but, when she spoke, only
 
 ON DECK. 5 
 
 a very slight accent. At a little distance from her, 
 in a more sheltered part of the deck, sat the Gov- 
 ernor, a fine-looking old man with a heavy white 
 moustache, and it was evident, even in the moon- 
 light, a yellow, unhealthy skin. He was smoking 
 a cigar and talking to one of the officers. By the 
 side of the vessel stood a tall, slightly corpulent 
 young man, with a handsome, expressionless face, 
 heavy in mould, a pointed, blonde moustache, and 
 thin, closely-cropped fair hair. He looked stupid, 
 but noticeably a gentleman. He was smoking, too, 
 in company of another of the officers, and every 
 now and then lifted his large head, which he kept 
 when speaking rather bent forward, to glance in 
 the direction of Lady Arthur and a man she was 
 talking to. The corpulent gentleman was Lord 
 Arthur Keefe, the lady's husband, and Governor 
 Burnside's private secretary. Her companion was 
 the Chief Justice. 
 
 An aide-de-camp and one or two other men 
 were lounging upon the deck. The man to whom 
 Lady Arthur was talking was of quite a different 
 type from the members of the Governor's staff or 
 the officers of the man-of-war. He was impressive- 
 looking, with a massive, inscrutable kind of face, 
 its large features seeming larger because of his ex- 
 cessive leanness, the nose was slightly hooked, and 
 he had that peculiar flexible mouth, stern, and yet 
 humorous, which seems to be a characteristic of 
 the legal profession. His shoulders were broad, and
 
 6 NULMA. 
 
 he had the makings of a strikingly powerful and 
 athletic frame; but the effect was again spoiled by 
 his leanness and an evident constitutional delicacy 
 out of keeping with Nature's original intention. 
 He had very deep-set dark eyes, and a way of gaz- 
 ing at the person whom he addressed that would 
 in the witness-box be disconcerting; and he had 
 also a rather wearied expression, as if the banalities 
 of life had been a little too oppressive. His hair 
 was almost coal black, but had one striking pecul- 
 iarity. On the left side, from almost the crown of 
 the head to the tip of the ear, there was a patch of 
 silvery white. He was not a young man, but he 
 looked older than his years, which were about 
 thirty-five. He had been gazing very intently at 
 Lady Arthur as she lay back, softly furling and 
 unfurling a fan with steel spangles, which reflected 
 the light from the companion-way. They had been 
 silent for a minute or two. He broke the silence 
 abruptly : 
 
 " I know you don't object to my smoking." 
 
 She laughed. " That should be an established 
 fact by this time. Besides, Arthur is hardly ever 
 without a cigarette — except when he is absolutely 
 on duty." 
 
 She watched him take out his case, and delib- 
 erately select a cigar, which he lighted and puffed 
 slowly without speaking. 
 
 " I wonder," she exclaimed, " what they expect 
 of me over there."
 
 ON DECK. 
 
 .-< 
 
 You'll soon find out. To-morrow you will 
 have come into your kingdom." 
 
 " No, I shan't find out — not at once, anyhow; 
 one never does till one has made irretrievable mis- 
 takes." 
 
 " Oh, you won't make mistakes." 
 
 "What makes you say that?" she asked with 
 some sharpness. 
 
 ' Well, you haven't made any as yet." 
 
 " I have made one great and irretrievable mis- 
 take — no, I have made two." 
 
 ' Tell me." He bent towards her, and added, 
 with a caressing touch in his voice, " I hope 
 you are not going to say something which it 
 would pain me to hear? I think I know the first 
 mistake." 
 
 He gave an almost imperceptible glance towards 
 the spot where Lord Arthur was standing, out of 
 earshot of the two. Lady Arthur followed the 
 direction of his eyes, and made an equally imper- 
 ceptible nod. 
 
 "Yes, that's one." 
 
 ' The great and irretrievable one. And the 
 other?" 
 
 " Can't you guess that, too. From what you 
 said, I should think you must do so." 
 
 ' I suppose I do. You have been hinting at 
 regrets lately. And this is the last evening! That's 
 what I meant. Why be unkind — now?" 
 
 " Do you really care? "
 
 8 NULMA. 
 
 ' You know I care. Haven't I given the best 
 proof of it?" 
 
 'In coming. out here? But that was a great 
 deal my doing." 
 
 " And — you forget — Sir Alured Lake's." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; you couldn't have stood another win- 
 ter." The statement was half interrogative. 
 
 ' I dare say I should have knocked under. Sir 
 Alured said so, anyhow. Oh, I haven't the faintest 
 doubt as to the wisdom of my coming out here — 
 in the long-run," he went on quietly. " It should 
 help my career. I shall be dealing with new ele- 
 ments, and itls always a good thing to get out of 
 the old-world rut; one can always go back to it 
 again." 
 
 " If in the meantime one isn't forgotten," she 
 interposed. 
 
 " The new colony is in people's mouths," he an- 
 swered. ' I shall be kept before the public even 
 better than if a big case were to hoist me into promi- 
 nence in England. Didn't our predecessor Randal 
 quote from somebody or other in his farewell 
 speech the sentiment that to help in the formation 
 of a new State is to write one's name upon the bark 
 of a sapling which will grow to a forest oak? The 
 writing grows with the tree, and becomes an ad- 
 vertisement. In these days careers need advertis- 
 ing." 
 
 " You think of nothing but your career," said 
 the lady with a plaintive note in her voice.
 
 ON DECK. 9 
 
 " Indeed," he exclaimed, " I don't think you 
 ought to say that." 
 
 She put out a slim hand and just touched his 
 coat sleeve. ' We seem to be sparring; and it is 
 the last evening." 
 
 " Isn't that just what I wanted to impress upon 
 you when you spoke of regrets? " 
 
 " But I did not speak of regrets," she rejoined 
 warmly; " or if there were regrets in my mind, they 
 were the reflection of those in yours." 
 
 " Perhaps," she added presently with one of her 
 winning smiles, " the mistake I meant — the second 
 one — is not so serious as you may have imagined. 
 I remember that when I was married, and we 'were 
 thinking of going to the States for our wedding- 
 trip, Blanche Wilford said to me, ' My dear, don't 
 do it ; you can't imagine what a disenchanting thing 
 a voyage is: one would hate even one's lover at the 
 end of it— how much more one's husband ! ' Sounds 
 immoral, doesn't it? But you see the applica- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Not in the least. It is exactly the sentiment, 
 however, that I should have expected from your 
 friend Mrs. Wilford. And there I do see the appli- 
 cation." 
 
 "How horrid of you! To hear you talk, one 
 would imagine you a worn-out cynic instead of 
 the most romantic being ever created." 
 
 ."That's rather strong, isn't it? I prefer the 
 imputation of being a cynic."
 
 IO NULMA. 
 
 " Oh, but you are romantic, notwithstanding," 
 she said; "you keep your illusions down deep at 
 the bottom of your heart, but they are there all the 
 same. No, I haven't got any illusions about you," 
 she added with faint bitterness, " and I know you 
 have none about me; that's the worst of it all. You 
 take us — women like me, of the world, worldly — 
 just at the valuation the world puts upon us; we 
 are part of the game to you, and even if you lose 
 your heads in the excitement of the play, you don't 
 do so to the extent of seeing us with halos round 
 ours." 
 
 " A halo wouldn't be a becoming head-dress to 
 you," he answered. " It only suits the Madonna 
 type, which is distinctly uninteresting." 
 
 ' I wonder if you would find it so. I don't feel 
 at all sure. Listen, and I will make you a frank 
 confession of my lurking fear about you. I never 
 felt the least jealous of Nora Glassthwaite in spite 
 of her good looks and her money and all the talk 
 there was once about you and her; but I do believe 
 that you are the kind of man capable of marrying 
 a girl out of a convent, and adoring her innocence 
 — as long as she kept it. I know that there's a sort 
 of fascination for you in the notion of moulding 
 a child of Nature." 
 
 " Possibly," he answered coldly, " on the theory 
 of reaction. But I don't fancy that a convent 
 boarding-school is exactly the place where one 
 would go to look for the child of Nature."
 
 ON DECK. II 
 
 " Ah, well, perhaps not. / was educated in a 
 convent." 
 
 There was silence again. Kenward puffed his 
 cigar, and she fanned herself. Presently Lord Ar- 
 thur came up to them. 
 
 " The Governor wants his whist. I suppose 
 you don't care to take a hand, Margot?" 
 
 " No, I think not to-night; it's nicer up here." 
 
 "Nor you, Kenward?" 
 
 " No, I think not," also replied the Chief Jus- 
 tice. " I am of Lady Arthur's opinion, that it's 
 nicer up here." 
 
 " Oh, well, there are plenty to make up 
 the game. I suppose I must go; it's a beastly 
 bore." 
 
 But he lingered, looking at his wife in that 
 stolid, questioning way of his which at times irri- 
 tated her intensely. Somehow, it did not harmonize 
 with his youthful face and boyish manner. 
 
 ' You and Kenward seemed to be having a 
 pretty deep discussion," he said. " What were you 
 talking about?" 
 
 ' I was telling him that he'd end by marrying 
 a child of Nature," she returned. 
 
 " Oh — well!" Lord Arthur had a way of say- 
 ing " Oh — well! " which also irritated his wife. ' I 
 should think he'd be more likely to find her in these 
 parts than over there." 
 
 " Than in a convent school," she interrupted. 
 ' That's just what he was saying himself." She
 
 12 NULMA. 
 
 gave a jangling little laugh, ami made an impa- 
 tient movement in her long chair. 
 
 " I wasn't thinking about a convent. What put 
 that in your head? I was thinking of London," 
 replied Lord Arthur. ;i Is anything the matter with 
 you, Margot?" 
 
 ' Nothing; I'm feeling a little nervous at the 
 prospect before me, that's all. I hear that the 
 Leichardtstonians made a goddess out of Lady 
 Randal. Do you suppose they'll want to put 
 me on a pedestal too, and worship me? Be- 
 cause I don't think I can live up to that kind 
 of thing. Now, do you fancy I shall satisfy 
 them?" 
 
 " Satisfy them! why, of course. Haven't you 
 always satisfied everyone?" 
 
 Lord Arther turned his slow gaze again on his 
 wife; this time it was a gaze of admiration. 
 
 " That's a delightful view of one for one's hus- 
 band to take. But remember I come after Lady 
 Randal." 
 
 " Oh, confound Lady Randal! She has been 
 crammed down our throats ever since we heard 
 of the appointment. Come, Margot, there's a so- 
 cial ambition for you: beat Lady Randal on her 
 own ground." 
 
 "She has departed from the ground; it would 
 be fighting a ghost. And ghosts don't make mis- 
 takes and do stupid things." 
 
 "Don't they?" put in the Chief Justice. "I
 
 ON DECK. 
 
 13 
 
 always thought that a want of common-sense was 
 the principal characteristic of ghosts." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, you won't do stupid things, 
 Margot," said Lord Arthur. 
 
 Lady Arthur got up with a rustle of her dra- 
 peries. 
 
 " I'm going to walk, and that's a stupid thing 
 this hot weather. Be off to your game, Arthur: 
 you mustn't keep his Excellency waiting." 
 
 Lord Arthur left them. Kenward had risen 
 too. " May I offer you my arm? " 
 
 She took it, and twice they made the turn of 
 the deck without speaking. Then she stopped and 
 leaned over the bulwarks, her chin resting upon her 
 clasped hands. They were now practically alone. 
 The Governor and suite, as the newspapers would 
 put it, had gone down. The Chief Justice glanced 
 cautiously round, then came closer to her and 
 softly put his hand on one of hers, unclasping it 
 from the other and holding it in his own. 
 
 "Margot!" he said in that low, deep voice 
 of his which could be at times almost a caress. 
 " Why are you cruel to me — on this our last 
 night?" 
 
 " / cruel — to you! " 
 
 " What else is it but cruelty, to talk of the dis- 
 enchantment of a voyage, to hint at regrets and at 
 mistakes? Aren't we too good friends for that kind 
 of thing? " 
 
 " J/riends! yes, that's just it. Outram, doesn't
 
 14 NULMA. 
 
 it strike you sometimes that this very — friendship 
 has been a great mistake." 
 
 " No; it has not struek me — till now." 
 ' You want to imply that I am making it so 
 by my way of taking this matter, when of course it 
 must be — as it is. I dare say that I am unreason- 
 able and exacting and tactless. A woman always 
 is, when she cares as much as I care, and when 
 she sees, afar off it may be, but still certain, the 
 end." 
 
 ' What would you have me do? So far, I have 
 entirely obeyed your commands. You wished me 
 to accept the Leichardt's Land appointment, and I 
 have done so." 
 
 " Ah, it was me, then, whom you obeyed, not 
 Sir Alured?" With characteristic change of mood, 
 she turned on him one of those serious yet co- 
 quettish smiles which made the greatest charm of 
 her face. " Outram," she went on, her manner 
 changing again, " I will tell you what I have been 
 feeling these last days. It is not weariness or dis- 
 satisfaction with myself, or even with you, though 
 I have fancied you were different — that you had 
 grown colder " 
 
 ' You forget," he interrupted, " that we have 
 been, as it were, under a telescope." 
 
 " Oh yes, I know. And I suppose we shall be 
 still more under a telescope when we get to Leich- 
 ardt's Land. A case of ' the ' fierce light, et cet- 
 era, don't you know. No; it's the falseness of the
 
 ON DECK. 
 
 15 
 
 position that has been coming home to me. I did 
 not feel it before, when one could get away from 
 things, and when Arthur was in India and one was 
 comparatively free. But now — there's no escape 
 on board a steamer. Arthur is always there; and 
 the old man is always there ; and the aides look on, 
 and maybe form their own conclusions; and you — 
 that very mask you wear in public drives me wild! 
 It's a denial of me." 
 
 "Oh, Margot!" 
 
 " Of course I'm foolish and unreasonable to re- 
 sent what you do in protection of me. But we 
 have been so horribly — friendly. And to think of 
 its going on — the friendliness, and nothing more! 
 — month after month ; you playing your part, and I 
 mine, till yours ceases to be a part; till I become in 
 very truth no more to you than a friend — a woman 
 whom you once loved, and have come to pity; who 
 was of use to you in the beginning of your career, 
 but who is getting monotonous, and, in short, in- 
 convenient. One knows the stages. Then comes 
 the inevitable — the young girl." 
 
 " Margot, do you not give me credit for any 
 feeling of honour? " 
 
 ' Yes ; I give you credit for more than most 
 men have. I think you would hesitate a good deal, 
 and I should see the hesitation. It would madden 
 me more than if you came and told me the truth 
 outright — that you were tired of me — and I should 
 perhaps do something desperate and wicked. Lis-
 
 1 6 NULMA. 
 
 ten, Outram. I'm in a magnificent mood to-night; 
 ready to let you have your freedom, if you choose 
 to accept it. Do you choose? You may never have 
 the chance again." 
 
 He threw away the butt of the cigar he had 
 been smoking, but did not answer. 
 
 ' Do you choose? " she repeated. " Think; you 
 may be quite free of me — free to court the child of 
 Nature without a qualm; free to go back again to 
 your beloved London and its fogs." 
 
 ' Which would soon finish up my shaky lungs. 
 Besides, isn't it rather late for that, considering 
 that I shall be installed to-morrow as Chief Justice 
 of Leichardt's Land." 
 
 ' Well, you can stay a year, till your lungs are 
 all right again. Our term is five, and by the end 
 of it you will have forgotten me. In the meantime, 
 we shall make our bow and cuntsey prettily to each 
 other — you as the Chief Justice, and I as the lady 
 of Government House; and we shall endeavour to 
 control our emotions in accordance with the dignity 
 of our respective situations. Come, do you ac- 
 cept?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Thank you, Outram." 
 
 She tilted up her face upon the palm of her 
 hand, and the moonlight was reflected in her shin- 
 ing eyes. His eyes, as he returned the gaze, were 
 full of trouble and of a certain struggling pas- 
 sion.
 
 ON DECK. 
 
 17 
 
 " If we were anywhere else," he whispered, " I 
 would give you a different sort of assurance." 
 
 She seemed to drink in his words, and heaved 
 a deep sigh of content. 
 
 ' Thank you, Outram," she murmured again.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 
 
 The 4pan-of-\var was at anchor in the bay. It 
 was a brilliant morning. The month was March, 
 but an unusual freshness had succeeded the muggy 
 heat of the last week or two. March in Australia 
 is as fickle as her companion month in Engtand, 
 only she is less blustering about her changes; it 
 may be very cool in March, or the heat may be 
 tropical; everything depends upon when the rainy 
 season begins and ends. To-day the sky was of a 
 Mediterranean blue, the sea also. Upon the bar 
 white breakers made a shiny line. Low-lying, man- 
 grove-covered flats stretched down to the harbour. 
 Beyond stood higher ground, and in the far distance 
 rose the conical peaks of some blue mountains. 
 
 The Government tender, gaily decorated with 
 flags, was drawn up alongside of the man-of-war. 
 The acting Governor, whose glory was now almost 
 at an end, the acting President of the Legislative 
 Council, the Premier and his colleagues, and nearly 
 all the prominent officials of Leichardt's Town, had
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. Iq 
 
 come down to receive the new Governor and his 
 party, and to welcome the Chief Justice. 
 
 There was a banquet on the man-of-war before 
 the re-embarkation took place. Lady Arthur sat 
 between the Governor and the Vice-Governor, who 
 would be formally deposed as soon as his successor 
 had taken the oath. She had been at great pains 
 with her appearance, and was looking particularly 
 well; she also did her best to be charming to the 
 Vice-Governor — who was, properly speaking, Presi- 
 dent of the Upper Chamber — and to the Ministers 
 and other important people. Her best meant a 
 good deal, and it was not surprising that she cre- 
 ated a favourable impression. The general opin- 
 ion dropped in whispers after the banquet was that, 
 if not equal to Lady Randal, she was extremely 
 handsome, and very much in the same style as the 
 former Governor's wife. This was in her favour 
 with the Leichardtstonians, who had had an agree- 
 able experience of foreign women. She was an 
 object of even greater interest than the Governor 
 himself, whose manner to her, it was remarked, 
 was fatherly, chivalrous, and quite after the old 
 school. There could be no doubt that he intended 
 her to exercise all due social authority, and that 
 there was going to be no misunderstanding as to 
 her position. To the Ministers and officials Colo- 
 nel Burnside was reserved and dignified. He was 
 shy, and his shyness made him appear stiff. If not 
 a peer, he at any rate produced an awing effect
 
 20 NULMA. 
 
 upon his now subjects. " A martinet! " pronounced 
 the Premier, Mr. Latham, a thin, hatchet-faced 
 gentleman, whose arms and legs seemed set on 
 wires, and who had narrow, keen eyes, a goatee 
 beard, and was modelled something on Yankee 
 lines. 
 
 ' I tell you what it is, James Goodeve," he 
 went on, " you'll have to mind your p's and q's now 
 when the Executive meets. There'll be a good 
 deal more ceremony, you bet, than there used to 
 be in Governor Randal's time." 
 
 James Goodeve gave a gruff laugh. lie was 
 a big, burly individual, with an expansive chest, 
 a bushy grizzled beard and bristling moustache. 
 He was hard and rough in appearance, but looked 
 the person he was speaking to straight in the eyes, 
 and gave an impression of sturdy independence 
 and good-nature. 
 
 " Well, I domt know about that," he said. " It 
 has never been my way to mind my p's and q's for 
 anybody; and the Governor must take me as I am, 
 or leave me out of his calculations. And my Nul- 
 ma, too — though," he added with another gruff 
 chuckle, " I should be surprised if he did leave my 
 Nulma behind the door when her turn came. She's 
 good to look at, if she's not much good at other 
 things. Isn't that so, Latham?" 
 
 "By Jove, I should think it is!" rejoined the 
 Premier. " Nulma has grown up a little beauty. 
 But what do you mean, Goodeve, by hinting that
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 21 
 
 your daughter mayn't be as good in every way as 
 she is to look at? You are not disparaging her 
 moral character, I hope?" 
 
 " No, thank God! There never was a sweeter 
 or better girl than my Nulma. A bit of a temper 
 — and a will of her own, too, I can tell you! — but 
 who ever heard of a real woman without them?" 
 
 " Well, then, look here: I'm not going to have 
 my favourite Nulma belittled. She's perfection, and 
 there's an end of it." 
 
 Goodeve shook his big shoulders, and his face 
 beamed. 
 
 ' We won't say much about book-learning, 
 however," he said. " I've kept her back, and done 
 it on purpose, too. I wasn't going to have her 
 spoiled at one of your Sydney or Melbourne board- 
 ing-schools — turned into a fine lady, and taught 
 to think herself too good for her old father. No, 
 I wasn't going to have that." 
 
 " And quite right, Goodeve," put in a gentle- 
 man who was standing behind the Premier, and had 
 pricked up his ears at the mention of Nulma. " Not 
 that there was any likelihood, I should say, of what 
 you seemed afraid of; but I'm not fond myself of 
 a boarding-school education — it's a Brummagem 
 sort of imitation of the real thing, and I'm glad 
 Miss Nulma hasn't had it. By the way, has she had 
 time to try the new horse yet? " 
 
 " She is waiting for you, Van Vechten, to come 
 and take her out. No, it isn't that, but little Luce
 
 22 NULMA. 
 
 Perryman has had an accident — hurt her back — 
 and has to keep lying down all the time. So Nulma 
 has been over with her a lot, nursing and cheering 
 her up. I say, can't you come out to the Bunyas 
 on Saturday. You might go for a ride with us, and 
 stop to dinner — we'll be glad to see you." 
 
 ' Thank you," replied Van Vechten. " Yes, I 
 will come with pleasure." 
 
 " All right, I'll tell Lulu. Now, I suppose I 
 had better try to make myself agreeable to some 
 of these big-wigs? What do you think of our new 
 Chief Justice?" And he glanced over to where 
 Kenward was talking on the other side of the deck 
 to one of the Leichardt's Town legal luminaries. 
 
 " Looks a man," returned Van Vechten shortly. 
 " The old one was a molly-coddle." 
 
 ' Yes," assented Goodeve. " Anyhow, he is not 
 a molly-coddle, though they say he has come out 
 for his health. You'll not be up at the swearing-in 
 business like the rest of us? Lucky for you that 
 you ain't a ' responsible adviser '! I'll be glad when 
 the fuss and botheration are over and we settle 
 down to work again." 
 
 And the big man moved off. 
 
 The other remained for a minute or two, his 
 clean-shaved, stern face softened by the shadow 
 of that smile which had come upon it when he 
 began to talk of Nulma. It was a face which some- 
 how suggested a Middle Age carving in very old 
 and ancient ivory; the skin, a blending of brown
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 
 
 23 
 
 and yellow, was drawn tightly over the bridge of 
 the straight nose and the rather high cheek-bones, 
 having a number of tiny wrinkles at the corners 
 of the eyes and between the nostrils and chin. It 
 would have been difficult to guess Van Vechten's 
 age. He might have been anything between fifty- 
 five and twenty-five, for there was a kind of im- 
 movableness about his features and expression 
 which defied the ravages of time. His stolidity, 
 however, was that of strength, not of weakness. 
 Van Vechten had sometimes been called a man 
 of iron. He had an inflexible will, a contempt 
 for public opinion, and rigidly exacted the full meed 
 in all his dealings with others. He was severe, but 
 he was also just. His blue eyes were sharp as steel, 
 but they were honest as those of James Goodeve, 
 which is saying much. 
 
 He was a merchant of Dutch extraction, as his 
 name told, who had amassed a large fortune, and 
 owned one of the handsomest houses in Leichardt's 
 Town. Sir John Randal had made him a member 
 of the Upper House, but he took no part in politi- 
 cal affairs. His whole business appeared to be the 
 making of money, and he succeeded in it admir- 
 ably. He had not married, and till the last year of 
 Lady Randal's reign had hardly been known so- 
 cially. Certainly he had never gone to Govern- 
 ment House, or to any of the dances, public or pri- 
 vate. Then Lady Randal had discovered in him 
 the anonymous benefactor of a charity in which
 
 24 NULMA. 
 
 she was interested, had taken a fancy to the man, 
 and had insisted upon his calling upon her. She 
 was a very clever, sympathetic woman, had known 
 how to get hold of him, and had thought it worth 
 her while to do so. Gradually he became a fre- 
 quent visitor at Government House, and Lady Ran- 
 dal had done her best to marry him to her own 
 greatest friend in Leichardt's Land — a certain Miss 
 Degraves. Miss Degraves would, report said, have 
 been quite willing to become Mrs. Van Vechten, 
 for, though the merchant had, as he frankly owned, 
 worked his own way upwards, he was incontestably 
 a gentleman, and his very reserve gave him dig- 
 nity, while it carried an impression of power. As 
 soon as he became aware of Lady Randal's design, 
 he went to her with characteristic independence, 
 thanking her for her good intentions, and assuring 
 her that he had no intention of marrying anyone, 
 except a little girl, now just seventeen, who hadn't 
 the faintest notion of his wishes, whose great trou- 
 ble was that she couldn't learn to spell, and who 
 was the best lady-rider Leichardt's Land had ever 
 produced. 
 
 Lady Randal had asked who the girl was, and 
 he had replied with perfect frankness that it was 
 Nulma Goodeve. Till then Lady Randal had never 
 heard of Nulma Goodeve, or little Lulu, as her 
 playmates the Perrymans called her; nor had any- 
 one else in Leichardt's Town, except these same 
 Perrymans, who lived in the next house to the
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 
 
 25 
 
 Goodeves, and one or two others, among them Mr. 
 Latham — not then the Premier. Air. Latham had 
 been an employer of James Goodeve, in the days 
 when Nulma's father had been a carrier out west, 
 between the further stations and Port Victoria, be- 
 fore he had struck gold and become the chief share- 
 holder in the " Goodeve's Consolation " reef. 
 
 Lady Randal, who liked pulling the social wires, 
 had tried to get at Nulma through her father, and 
 had made advances to the burly member of As- 
 sembly, just then coming into prominence as a 
 politician, too wealthy to care for place, and too 
 sturdily independent to snatch at power. But James 
 Goodeve had rebuffed the advance, and had told 
 Lady Randal, almost rudely, that his daughter 
 wasn't coming out in society for a year yet, which 
 would be after the Randals' term of office had ex- 
 pired, and that he didn't want her taken notice of 
 by fine ladies till she was old enough to keep her 
 head and not be spoiled by it. But he was flat- 
 tered, all the same; he set more store than ever 
 upon Nulma in consequence, being now quite sure 
 that the girl must be no common girl; and though 
 he did not go to Government House, he always de- 
 clared himself afterwards one of Lady Randal's 
 most devoted admirers. 
 
 Lady Arthur had heard the little talk about 
 Nulma, which had taken place not far from where 
 she was standing with the Acting Governor ab- 
 sently admiring the low stretches of banana and
 
 2 6 NULMA. 
 
 pineapple plantations on each side of the river; the 
 heights covered with gum-tree forests; and, as the 
 launch got higher, the pretty bungalow residences, 
 with their green paddocks and gardens and beauti- 
 ful clumps of bamboos. 
 
 The conversation, somehow, struck an unpleas- 
 ing chord; for the description of Nulma seemed 
 to chime with her vaguely-expressed dread of the 
 evening before, concerning a possible unsophisti- 
 cated rival in the Chief Justice's heart. But she 
 scented a romance, being a woman of that emo- 
 tional temperament to whom life must always pre- 
 sent itself in the guise of romance or drama rather 
 than of prosaic fact. In truth, that emotional tend- 
 ency had been her undoing. Now, however, it 
 made her jump at the conclusion that Mr. Van 
 Vechten was in love with this unknown Nulma. 
 
 Van Vechten attracted her. Though totally un- 
 like, there was yet a certain type resemblance be- 
 tween him and the Chief Justice. Both had the 
 same air of suppressed force, and both shared a 
 certain outward hardness; but the flexible curves 
 of Kenward's lips gave token of a keener suscepti- 
 bility to subtler influences than was the case with 
 Van Vechten. Lady Arthur asked presently who 
 the merchant was, and receiving from the Act- 
 ing Governor an abridged biography of him as 
 far as the Leichardtstonians knew it, she resolved 
 to cultivate Van Vechten, and requested that he 
 might be presented to- her.
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 
 
 27 
 
 "Whose is that big house?" she asked him, 
 pointing to an imposing two-storied building com- 
 mandingly situated upon a rise overlooking - the 
 bend of the river as it curved round a long low 
 point in a snake-like loop. This house was particu- 
 larly noticeable because of an enormous and soli- 
 tary clump of bamboos growing on the extreme 
 point of the hill, where it looked like a plume of 
 gigantic green feathers. 
 
 " That is my house," answered Van Vechten 
 simply. 
 
 Lady Arthur now began to wonder if he were 
 married; she had not received that information 
 from the Acting Governor. " I hope that you will 
 ask me there sometimes," she said. ' You must 
 have a magnificent view of the river." 
 
 " You do me honour," he replied with a formal 
 bow. ' We can look down upon Government 
 House from my veranda," he went on. " And 
 there, Lady Arthur, I think you catch your first 
 glimpse of your future home." He pointed to a 
 white patch surrounded with greenery, lying paral- 
 lel with the Botanical Gardens at the end of a sec- 
 ond point where the river made another loop; the 
 white patch resolved itself into a balconied stone 
 building with great pillars and four deep porches. 
 
 " It looks very cool," said Lady Arthur. " And 
 it seems new," she added. 
 
 " Of course it is new," replied Van Vechten; 
 " it was built for the Randals." 
 3
 
 28 NULMA. 
 
 The Governor came up and offered his arm 
 to his niece-in-law, so that she might view her new 
 residence to better advantage from the crimson 
 carpeted patch of the deck on which the state chairs 
 had been placed. They were getting close to the 
 town; the vessels in the river dipped flags; the 
 guns of the battery fired a salute; the crowd lining 
 the temporary quay on which the Governor was to 
 be received was plainly visible. 
 
 And now began what James Goodeve had 
 termed the " fuss and botheration." The naval and 
 military force of the baby colony, represented by 
 the officers of the survey schooner and man-of- 
 war which had brought up the party, and the local 
 militia and police brigade, drew up in line. The 
 Ministers and officials ranged themselves; the 
 Mayor delivered an address. Lord Arthur and the 
 aide-de-camp, in their red uniforms, stood like stat- 
 ues, a little back on each side of their chief, while 
 the presentations were going on. Lord Arthur 
 looked distinguished, if not particularly brilliant; 
 his face wore a bored expression, and his hand 
 fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. The aide-de- 
 camp, a good-looking young soldier with a dark 
 moustache, who was very sorry for himself, and 
 felt the heat horribly, would have given worlds 
 to get out of his uniform into white ducks, 
 and to order an iced whisky-and-seltzer. The 
 Governor looked bored, too, and hot, but was 
 mechanically gracious, though, under cover of
 
 THE STATE ENTRY. 
 
 2 9 
 
 his galvanized smile, he whispered to Lord Ar- 
 thur : 
 
 " Can't you give them a hint to cut it short? I 
 shall have a sunstroke if there's much more of this." 
 
 The crowd cheered ; the Leichardtstonians 
 thought it all very fine, and would have liked to 
 prolong the function. In the raised seats round the 
 platform Lady Arthur noticed some well-dressed 
 women and some extremely pretty girls, and began 
 to readjust her preconceived notions about colonial 
 society. 
 
 " Lady Randal has got them into good train- 
 ing," she thought, not realizing that many of these 
 ladies were better born, and had come out of a 
 severer nursery than had she herself. She had the 
 consciousness of being an object of the most rigid 
 scrutiny, and wondered what these matrons and 
 maids were thinking about her. The mimic sover- 
 eignty was amusing and gratifying to a woman 
 who, though she was a Marquis's daughter-in-law, 
 had always been poor, and never as certain of her 
 position as she could have wished. She was glad 
 that Kenward should see her thus, the " cynosure of 
 all eyes," as the society correspondent of the Leich- 
 ardt's Land Herald put it the next morning. She 
 bent her head sideways over the bouquet which 
 the Mayor's daughter had presented to her, and 
 while the thought crossed her mind that these 
 stephanotis flowers and other tropical blossoms of 
 which it was composed would fetch an almost fabu-
 
 3o 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 lous price at this moment in Covent Garden, she 
 tried to crane her head round to catch a glimpse of 
 the Chief Justice, who would shortly have his own 
 little performance of installation to go through. 
 He was standing, alert, interested, scanning the 
 rows of spectators — perhaps, she thought bitterly, 
 in vague search of that child of Nature — and not 
 thinking in the least of her. 
 
 Presently the guns fired another salute. The 
 Governor stepped into the state barouche drawn by 
 four grays, and the procession started: Lady Ar- 
 thur smiling from under the shadow of her mauve 
 parasol, the Governor making at intervals stiff mili- 
 tary salutes, the " staff " in their red uniforms on 
 the back-seat. It was pitilessly hot, now that the 
 breeze had died away, and the procession seemed 
 to be a long time in parading the principal streets. 
 After all, though, there was not a great deal of 
 street, and the town was of a queer, incongruous 
 sort, with patches of cida retusa where there should 
 have been shops or houses — a wooden shanty stand- 
 ing beside a big public building, and a little weather- 
 board and iron store elbowing the pillars of a bank. 
 At last they had passed the white stone, zinc-roofed 
 pile which somebody told Lady Arthur was the 
 Parliamentary Buildings, had gone through the 
 iron gates of the Government House domain, and 
 were drawn up in front of the new-looking portico 
 and the brass-studded door through which she en- 
 tered into her kingdom.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 
 
 Lady Arthur spent most of the afternoon in 
 helping her maid to unpack, in arranging photo- 
 graphs and knick-knacks about her own rooms, 
 and in giving orders. Several of the servants had 
 been with the Randals; but Lady Arthur deter- 
 mined that she would not be dogged by Lady 
 Randal's ghost more than was absolutely necessary, 
 and settled within herself that she would have them 
 dismissed as soon as she creditably and comfortably 
 could. In the meantime, however, she was very 
 sweet and gracious to them, thus finding out indi- 
 rectly something of what was expected of her, and 
 she had pleasant words for the gardeners employed 
 in setting ferns and palms. Down below, the Gov- 
 ernor, his staff and responsible advisers, were oc- 
 cupied with the business of the installation and of 
 a cold collation, from which a not too sumptuous 
 portion was served to Lady Arthur in the deep 
 stone piazza outside the staircase gallery, which 
 she resolved to appropriate as a summer sitting- 
 
 31
 
 32 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 room. She was lying in a cane lounge dressed in a 
 cool tea-gown, a litter of unpacking round her, 
 when Lord Arthur appeared hot and tired, and 
 Still in uniform. 
 
 ' Where have my things been put, Margot? 
 I want to get out of this abominable toggery. There 
 should be a dispensation for white ducks on official 
 occasions in all latitudes within twenty-five degrees. 
 Have you settled on our quarters?" 
 
 " I've left the Governor what look like the state 
 apartments, and I've established myself in these. 
 Your room is beyond there." She pointed through 
 a cool, shady chamber, in which her maid was 
 occupied over the trunks, to another chamber 
 opening off the side-balcony. " I suppose it's all 
 right." 
 
 " Oh — well! Yes, I suppose it's all right. Do 
 send Maling to forage for some tea. It's a regular 
 case of foraging, and the chief is pretty furious 
 about the household arrangements. I've sent a wire 
 to Melbourne for that chef; the Governor don't 
 approve of the one provided by his responsible ad- 
 visers. Judging by the way the responsible advisers 
 gobbled down the most villainous mayonnaise you 
 ever tasted, I should say they didn't know a good 
 dinner when they got it." 
 
 ' Yes, the mayonnaise was villainous ! " assented 
 Lady Arthur. 
 
 Her husband left her; and after ordering the 
 tea, Margot remained stretched upon her lounge,
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 33 
 
 lost, it seemed, in painful thought, till he returned, 
 looking all the fresher for a sluicing with cold 
 water, and a change from his stiff trappings into a 
 light summer suit. Maling had brought the tea, 
 and his wife poured him out a cup. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Kenward?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, he has gone to forage on his own ac- 
 count. The Governor asked him to stay here, but 
 he seemed to think he had better settle himself in 
 his diggings." 
 
 Lord Arthur sipped his tea reflectively. 
 
 " Do you think you will like it, Margot?" 
 
 " How do I know yet? It is terribly hot." 
 
 " To-day ; but that won't last. Next month win- 
 ter will be coming on. Winter in April! Queer, 
 isn't it? Oh, this isn't hot! If you had been with 
 me in India, you wouldn't have thought anything 
 of it." 
 
 " I am very sorry that I was not with you in 
 India," she exclaimed, with a vehemence born of 
 her late musings. " I wish with all my heart I had 
 gone with you to India." 
 
 "Why, Margot? Oh— well, so am I! But it 
 would have pretty well done for you in the state of 
 health you were in then. And, besides, there was 
 the baby." He sighed. " Not that that would have 
 made any difference in the long-run." 
 
 ' Who knows? In India it might not have 
 died." 
 
 " Poor little shaver! Well, there's no use think-
 
 34 NULMA. 
 
 ing of that now. Perhaps — perhaps there may be 
 another baby some day, Margot." 
 
 He hesitated with an almost boyish embarrass- 
 ment, and gave a little tender laugh as he put out 
 his hand and played with the lace of her tea-gown. 
 Her lips tightened, and the lines in her face seemed 
 to deepen, so that at the moment she looked ever 
 so much older than her husband. As a matter of 
 fact, there were three years between them, he being 
 twenty-nine and she thirty-two. She shook her 
 head with intense decision. There was a silence. 
 He stopped stroking her tea-gown, and leaned back 
 with a hurt look on his fair, stolid face. Presently 
 he said, in the tone of a man who has mastered a 
 momentary emotion : 
 
 " I shall be very happy, Margot, when we have 
 settled down again into respectable married life, as 
 it used to be." 
 
 ' I think we have settled down quite respectably 
 enough," she answered. " I don't know what you 
 want more." 
 
 " I want a great deal more," he rejoined; and 
 there was another silence; which she occupied in 
 peeling a banana. 
 
 She broke it, saying: 
 
 " I don't think these bananas are as good as 
 what we had on board." 
 
 He took no notice of the remark. 
 
 " Margot," he exclaimed, with slow impetuosity, 
 "what is it?"
 
 IN THE TIAZZA. 35 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked. 
 
 " I sometimes wonder," he answered, " whether 
 you care for me as much as you did three years 
 ago— before I went to India." 
 
 " Why should I not care for you as much as I 
 did then? Don't be absurd, Arthur, and fancy 
 things which are not true." 
 
 "Aren't they true? Oh, I hope they are not! 
 But you have so changed. I suppose," he added, 
 " it is from your having been ill." 
 
 " Yes, if I am changed. But I don't see where 
 the change comes in." 
 
 " Oh yes, you have changed, and you must 
 know it, unless it's all your illness. Sir Alured 
 told me that it takes years sometimes to get over a 
 bad illness like that." 
 
 "Yes; years, and years, and years. Don't talk 
 of it. Will you have some more tea? " 
 
 " Thank you ! " He swallowed what was left in 
 the cup and handed it to her. " By Jove! that's 
 the best thing I've had in Government House yet. 
 It's Ceylon tea, isn't it?" 
 
 " It isn't a Government House production; it 
 is some that " — she made the slightest pause — " that 
 Mr. Kenward got for me in Galle. Maling had 
 packed it away by mistake." 
 
 ' Well, it's very good." He drank it slowly. 
 ; ' Margot," he resumed, " you are sure that you 
 have not changed to me? " 
 
 " Quite sure. Please don't talk like that."
 
 36 NULMA. 
 
 ' I can't help it; it's always in my mind — has 
 been ever since I came home — and we have seemed 
 so — so separate. And, then, two years is a big 
 slice out of five of married life — big enough for a 
 woman to find out in it that she likes somebody 
 else better than her husband.". 
 
 Margot Keefe gave a quick, frightened glance 
 towards her husband, who was not then looking 
 at her, however, but was staring out through the 
 half-drawn Venetians of the balcony. 
 
 " Arthur, what makes you say that?" she asked 
 in desperate bravery. " Have you been fancying 
 such a thing about me? " 
 
 ' No — ves; I'll make a clean breast of it, Mar- 
 got." 
 
 "Well?" she said sharply. 
 
 " It's this: when I first came home, and you 
 seemed so cold — not that exactly, but you know 
 what I mean — and when I saw how thick you and 
 Kenward were " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Don't be angry, dear. You know that I never 
 could suspect you of anything not absolutely on 
 the square, and now I see that I was a jealous fool. 
 But I did wonder at first whether he hadn't got to 
 care for you, and you for him." 
 
 'Well?" she repeated. She seemed unable to 
 utter any other word. 
 
 " Oh, well, didn't I tell you that I saw I was a 
 jealous fool? and of course I ought to have had
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 
 
 37 
 
 more consideration for you. But it's hard for a 
 blundering - fellow like me, who never had sisters 
 or much to do with womenkind, to understand 
 women. What made me certain that I was just 
 a jealous fool was his accepting this appointment 
 here, and your wanting him to come out with us." 
 
 "Ah! 'Goon, Arthur." 
 
 " I knew that, if there had ever been anything 
 more than ordinary friendship between you, you 
 would never have put yourselves into the position. 
 You are too good a woman, Margot, and he is too 
 much of a gentleman for that sort of thing. Look 
 out, dear — what is it?" 
 
 For she had started suddenly from the lounge, 
 and was bending over it, her back to him. 
 
 " I thought I saw — was it a tarantula or a centi- 
 pede or something? They say there are lots of such 
 creatures out here," she cried hysterically. " Oh, 
 it's a bit of banana peel. I'm dreadfully stu- 
 pid, Arthur. I hate hot climates and insects and 
 things." 
 
 ' You're nervous, dear, and I've been upsetting 
 you. Don't you bother, Margot, about anything 
 I've said. I mean to be tremendously patient and 
 considerate with you; we are going to be ever so 
 happy here, and you'll get as strong as you ever 
 were." He waited, and then added in a different 
 tone, " I say, I think it would be nice if I were 
 to go and get the chief to come and have tea up 
 here with you; he'd like it; he's awfully devoted
 
 38 NULMA. 
 
 to you; it's such a good thing he has taken to you 
 so immensely." 
 
 ' Yes, go, Arthur." She called him back as he 
 was leaving. 'You are a good fellow; you are a 
 great deal too good for me. Don't think I am not 
 grateful, but don't— don't talk any more like that, 
 and don't set your heart on what isn't in the nature 
 of things, and can't be. I shall never be any dif- 
 ferent—not for a long, long time, anyhow. You 
 must take me as I am, and not expect too much 
 from me, for it's of no use. Promise me." 
 " Promise — what?" 
 
 ' That you'll be good friends with me, and not 
 say anything like that." 
 
 ' I can certainly promise to be good friends. 
 I can't answer for other things, but Til do my best. 
 You see, Margot " — he came close to her, and, 
 stooping, kissed her forehead — " a fellow would 
 like to be something more than just good friends 
 with the one woman in the world that he loves." 
 
 " Oh, that is where it is." She gave a slight 
 shudder. " It is so dreadful to be loved in that tragic 
 way; one didn't expect it from you." 
 
 ' No, I suppose you thought I was too matter- 
 of-fact a sort of chap; and so I am about every- 
 thing but you, Margot. I can't help it. I'm pretty 
 cool about most things, and not given to sentiment 
 and tall talk, but I got to know one thing about 
 myself when I came back this time." 
 
 "What was that?" she asked faintly.
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 
 
 39 
 
 " It's all over — didn't last, as I said — but I can 
 assure you that for a day or two there was a raging 
 devil in me, which under certain circumstances 
 would have made me commit murder, and glory 
 in it." 
 
 She turned very pale. 
 
 " I — I never guessed that." 
 
 ; ' No, I didn't mean that you should. I'm a 
 pretty good hand at keeping things to myself; and 
 if I choose I can put the stopper in and show noth- 
 ing. I don't know why I am telling you now; but 
 it's a fact, Margot: there's more in me than you 
 bargained for, and if you ever deceived me — which 
 God forbid! — you'd find it out." 
 
 She looked after him, as he moved away, in 
 silent and frightened wonder. Turning at the door, 
 he caught the look, and hastened to reassure her: 
 
 " I believe I've scared you. What a brute I 
 am! Never mind, Margot dear. I'm not a bit afraid 
 of your doing anything to rouse the Tartar. Scratch 
 a Russian, you know. I've got a dash of my moth- 
 er's blood, though I seem such a John Bull." 
 
 He gave his blonde moustache a twirl, and 
 laughed good-humouredly as he disappeared. She 
 heard him going heavily down the uncarpeted stairs. 
 The suggestion of that Kalmuck strain in her hus- 
 band roused a new and not altogether pleasant 
 train of thought. It was so very unusual in him 
 to allude to it, and there had never been anything 
 to remind her that he was not wholly English. It
 
 4 NULMA 
 
 was now almost forgotten that the second wife of 
 the Marquis of Kelvin had been a Russian, and was, 
 in truth, a very unimportant fact, seeing that she 
 had only lived long enough to give birth to this, 
 her first, and Lord Kelvin's fourth, son. But it 
 struck Margot — and, indeed, the same thing had 
 occurred to her once or twice lately — that there 
 were passionate, vengeful capabilities latent in the 
 man she had married, for which, as he had just 
 said, she had not bargained. A sort of soul-panic 
 took possession of the poor woman. This sudden 
 plunge into a new life amid surroundings totally 
 unfamiliar to her made her lose for the moment 
 her mental foothold. She was frightened at what 
 she had done, at what she might be going to do. 
 Her husband's revelation of his brooding suspi- 
 cions, the appeal which he had made, his assertion 
 of belief in her honour and in that of Kenward, 
 had startled and appalled her. For one instant she 
 had been on the point of flinging herself at his feet 
 and confessing that his suspicions were justified. 
 It seemed to her impossible that she could go on 
 living so base a lie. Why had she not yielded to 
 the promptings of her better self and made this new 
 departure a means of entire rupture with the fever- 
 ish joy of those two years of freedom? How could 
 she have been so mad and so wicked as to bring 
 her past with her when she had a chance of flinging 
 it behind for ever? Why had she not urged Ken- 
 ward to try for another appointment, to go to some
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 
 
 41 
 
 other place where he might recover his health — 
 and forget her? Ah! that was the sting. But any- 
 thing rather than to have brought him here, a step 
 of which there could be but two interpretations — 
 that of entire innocence or of the worst dishonour. 
 Strangely enough, she had not, till her husband 
 so spoke to-day, regarded the matter in this tragic 
 light— a light which she now knew to be the just 
 one. His words had brought her self-knowledge, 
 and she was convicted by her own conscience of 
 playing a despicable part. It was the meanness of 
 it that she hated. 
 
 And then the danger. She seemed to see be- 
 fore her a forewarning vision of consequences and 
 of resistless working of forces which till now had 
 only existed for her between the leaves of a novel 
 or on the stage of a theatre. She had married as 
 women who are poor, and eager to raise themselves 
 socially, do marry when opportunity occurs. She 
 had lived a hand-to-mouth, a somewhat Bohemian 
 sort of girlhood, and it had been at first excite- 
 ment enough to find herself lifted into a sphere 
 of which she had only read in books. She had been 
 tactful and had held her own, and even in her tiny 
 London house had managed to make herself an in- 
 fluence in a small way. There had been excite- 
 ment in that too. Then had come the baby's birth, 
 the illness which Lord Arthur charitably made the 
 excuse for everything in her which troubled and per- 
 plexed him ; afterward, before she had recovered, his
 
 42 NULMA. 
 
 departure with his regiment to India; and a little 
 later had begun the drama of Marguerite Keefe's life. 
 She had taken her marriage and her husband 
 as part of the prose of existence — solid material 
 facts, which there was no necessity to analyze. 
 She had looked upon Lord Arthur as a well-bred, 
 rather stupid liriton, outside the region of romance, 
 who would always be satisfied with that limited 
 portion of her real self presented to him, and whose 
 unemotional temperament would not rebel against 
 any conditions she chose to impose. She vaguely 
 concluded that after a few years of marriage they 
 would get like other couples she knew of, and both 
 go pretty much their own way — if, indeed, she 
 thought at all about the matter; she had never real- 
 ized the true nature of his feeling for her, and had 
 not speculated closely upon how he would or would 
 not act under certain circumstances at which he 
 had just hinted. During the two years of his ab- 
 sence her growing intimacy with Outram Kenward 
 had engrossed her to the exclusion of all other 
 considerations. She had looked neither behind nor 
 before, and it was not till Lord Arthur's rather 
 sudden return that she had found herself face to 
 face with the problem which has tormented many 
 another woman like herself — a woman not vicious, 
 not even heartless, and not without a sense of the 
 obligations of honour, but whose misfortune it has 
 been in the first instance to marry a man she did 
 not love, and the second to meet too late, and when
 
 IN THE PIAZZA. 43 
 
 away from her husband's protecting influence, the 
 one man who must be for ever her heart's master. 
 So things had been when, almost immediately 
 upon the crisis, this Leichardt's Land plan had been 
 mooted and determined upon. The poor trapped 
 creature — trapped in the net of her passionate im- 
 pulses and surprised by circumstance; not actually 
 bad, but very far from being good, and who, though 
 incapable of any heroic resolve, yet shrank from 
 deliberate baseness, torn by emotion and for the 
 first time by piercing doubt of the man she loved — 
 had frantically waited for Kenward to take the in- 
 itiative. But he had not taken it. She would have 
 run away with him had he asked her, sacrificing 
 all the prospects before so dear to her; but he had 
 not asked her, and she had understood without 
 words that she was not worth to him the sacrifice 
 of his own career. She heard rumours of an en- 
 gagement with a wealthy cousin, and jealousy made 
 her desperate. There had been an appeal to the 
 man's chivalry and to a tenderness by no means 
 extinguished. It had been partly through her in- 
 strumentality that the appointment of Chief Justice 
 had been offered to him. He had yielded to her 
 entreaties to accompany them; and the impos- 
 sible resolve had been made to keep within barriers 
 and to enjoy each other's society in a purely pla- 
 tonic fashion. All through the voyage they had 
 been very good friends — too good friends, as Mar- 
 got in her bitterness expressed it. 
 4
 
 44 KULMA. 
 
 She had never till now faced the situation. The 
 transition stage had been all rush and movement, 
 with the interest of new scenes and of preparations 
 for a different life to distract both. But the long 
 days of lazy gliding through Southern seas had 
 brought reaction. To Kemvard, though he would 
 not admit it, as well as to Margot, thought meant 
 corroding dissatisfaction. It sometimes appeared 
 to him, as well as to her, that they were like crea- 
 tures who had rushed headlong under a yoke, and 
 now must go whither Fate, the driver, willed. To 
 Margot, in this hour of dread and humiliation, 
 stolid, prosaic Lord Arthur seemed suddenly to 
 have been turned into an almost grotesque embodi- 
 ment of Destiny. And then she laughed grimly 
 aloud at the notion of Lord Arthur as an Othello. 
 
 'What amuses you so much, my dear?" said 
 the Governor's neutral, tired voice near her. 
 
 ' I don't know," she answered, with a violent 
 start, speaking at haphazard. " I think it was the 
 Mayor's way of reading the address." 
 
 " Ah," said the Governor, " it's your first ex- 
 perience of the kind of thing. I dare say that sol- 
 emn procession through the town seemed very 
 funny to you. It did to me. But I " — he sighed — 
 ' I have suffered in the same way several times be- 
 fore, and the humour of it palls a little."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 nljlma's compact. 
 
 Nulma was walking to and fro upon the veran- 
 da at the Bunyas, when Mr. Van Vechten, in the 
 free-and-easy manner of an Australian visitor cer- 
 tain of his welcome, ushered himself in through 
 the drawing-room and stood looking at her from 
 the sill of the open French window. 
 
 She was pacing up and down with the free, 
 stately tread of a stag or some other graceful wild 
 animal. There was, in truth, a strong suggestion 
 of the stag in her whole appearance: in the poise 
 of her small head with its untidy hair, the colour 
 of a ripe bunya nut; in the slenderness of her im- 
 mature form, her thin neck and the slim arms 
 from which her loose muslin sleeves fell away; 
 while her big brown eyes, too, had something of 
 the shy fearlessness and liquid softness of a young 
 deer's glance. She was a very attractive child, who 
 would shortly be a beautiful woman, and James 
 Goodeve was perfectly justified in his fatherly ad- 
 miration. 
 
 One hand clasped her belt behind her back; 
 
 45
 
 46 NULMA. 
 
 the other held in front a book which looked like 
 a tattered primer. She was murmuring softly to 
 herself as she walked, gazing conscientiously be- 
 yond the page. 
 
 ' P-a-r-a-1 — oh, are there two l's? P-a-r-a-1-" — 
 a hurried, guilty glance at the page — " 1-a-x — Paral- 
 lax. My goodness gracious! what is a parallax?" 
 Another glance. ' Yes; oh, well, I needn't bother 
 to remember that. Pa-r-a-1 — 1-1? — P-a-r-a-l-l-e-1 — 
 Parallel— Oh, Mr. Van Vechten, how you made 
 
 me jump! " 
 
 " What are you doing, Nulma? " 
 ' Pm learning my spelling lesson. I do a page 
 every day. Mrs. Perryman says it is disgraceful 
 that a girl who's coming out in May, and has done 
 with schooling, shouldn't know how to spell prop- 
 erly." 
 
 "Oh, does she indeed?" 
 
 " I wrote her a note yesterday to ask about 
 Luce, and it had two frightful mistakes. It's no 
 use; I shall never learn to spell! Uncle Van, did 
 you hear about poor Luce?" 
 
 " I heard she had had an accident." 
 
 " Nobody knows when she will stand up again," 
 said Nulma, with tragic emphasis. " She has 
 crinkled her back." 
 
 "Crinkled her back!" 
 
 ' Twisted her spine-joints, somehow. I shall 
 never forgive Malcolm Derrett — never, as long as 
 I live."
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 47 
 
 "Why is that, Nulma?" 
 
 " He won't own up to it — before people. But 
 / know — I know how it was." Nulma pursed up her 
 chin and narrowed her eyes with an air of mystery, 
 as though she possessed supernatural sources of 
 information. ' The truth is, I made him confess 
 it to me,'.' she added, in a burst of candour. ' It 
 was this way: He was jealous because Luce was 
 offended with him and refused to dance with him, 
 and because she liked dancing with Victor De- 
 graves. It was her birthday-party last week, you 
 know. So Malcolm thought he'd pay her out and 
 make her and Victor ridiculous, and he just left a 
 bit of orange-peel on the veranda, and they slipped 
 on it, and Luce fell against the steps and hurt her 
 back. Oh, she has been in such pain ; and I should 
 like to kill Malcolm Derrett, though he comes cry- 
 ing to me every day to know if she is better." 
 
 "Are you so hard-hearted as all that, Nulma? 
 Wouldn't you forgive a person for doing wrong if 
 he suffered real remorse for having done it? " 
 
 " I would never forgive anyone for doing a 
 mean, underhand thing on purpose to hurt some- 
 one else. If it had hurt me myself — well, I'd punish 
 them if I could." 
 
 " And if you couldn't?" 
 
 " I'd not stop till I had got someone else to do 
 it for me." 
 
 Nulma straightened herself against the veranda- 
 post as she enunciated this vindictive sentiment,
 
 48 NULMA. 
 
 and her eyes emitted a light which was almost sav- 
 age, and was to Van Vechten a new revelation, had 
 he needed one, of her character. She had uncon- 
 sciously crunched up the spelling-book in her vehe- 
 mence, and now tossed it on to a squatter's chair 
 with a laugh. 
 
 ' There ! I shan't learn any more to-day." 
 
 ' Nulma," said Van Vechten, with a hesitating 
 deference curious in one so much older and so 
 self-sufficing and composed, " I want you to tell 
 me something. You say you would never forgive 
 a deliberate wrong committed against yourself. 
 But suppose someone did you a great wrong — 
 not deliberately? " 
 
 " I don't think I understand what sort of wrong 
 you mean, Mr. Van Vechten," answered Nulma, 
 with one of her quick, straight glances. 
 
 " Suppose, for instance, that someone for his 
 own purpose — not meaning you harm, but because 
 he cared for you, and wished to secure you for him- 
 self — persuaded you to sign a bond, of which you 
 were too young and inexperienced to understand 
 the nature, a bond that would tie you down for 
 your whole life; and suppose that, when it was too 
 late, you got to realize what you had done, and re- 
 gretted it bitterly — well, would you forgive the per- 
 son who had dealt you that wrong, out of his great 
 love for you ? " 
 
 ' I should not call that love for me," answered 
 Nulma. " If the person loved me, he would wait
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 49 
 
 till he knew I understood what I was doing; and 
 then, if he loved me, he wouldn't want me to sign 
 anything unless it were of my own free will." 
 
 " But you haven't answered my question, Nul- 
 ma. Would you forgive him?" 
 
 "I don't know," she said. "Perhaps; but I 
 think I should hate him ever afterwards for having 
 put me into prison. It would be putting a girl into 
 prison, wouldn't it, if you took away her liberty, 
 and prevented her from choosing the kind of life 
 which would suit her best?" 
 
 " Yes ; it would be putting her into prison," 
 he said slowly. " You are right, my dear: if a man 
 really loved the girl, he would wait till of her own 
 free will she chose to do what he wished." 
 
 "And if she never chose to do it?" counter- 
 questioned Nulma mischievously, and her smile 
 made him wonder whether she could have guessed 
 the real drift of his words. 
 
 " Ah, well, he would have lost his chance, and 
 would have to let her go her own way, apart from 
 him. Nulma," he added, in a different tone, " where's 
 his mightiness the Minister for Mines? I thought 
 we were going for a ride this afternoon." 
 
 " His mightiness told me to tell you that he 
 is very sorry, but he forgot all about a meeting he 
 has got to attend — something about the water- 
 works. He said you would understand." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Well, did he say anything else? 
 What about the Arab?"
 
 50 NULMA. 
 
 " He said I could go with you and try him. I 
 was going to ride him the day the Governor came, 
 but daddy said there would be bands and flags and 
 things all about, and that I'd better not." 
 
 " All right. I've got the roan outside. I'll tell 
 them, shall I, to saddle Emin?" 
 
 " I expect he is saddled already; and I should 
 have been in my habit by now if you hadn't inter- 
 rupted me at my spelling. I shan't be ten minutes. 
 Uncle Van " — pausing — " do you think we could go 
 into town and get some cocoanut-candy for Luce? 
 She does so love cocoanut-candy!" 
 
 ' I've anticipated your wishes, Nulma. But it 
 isn't cocoanut-candy. See here!" He went into 
 the drawing-room, and brought out from the table 
 where he had laid it a box of French chocolate tied 
 with blue ribbons. 
 
 Nulma opened it eagerly. 
 
 " Budgery you! Oh dear! excuse Blacks' lan- 
 guage ; it expresses my feelings." She perched her- 
 self on the railing of the veranda, and proceeded to 
 crunch bonbons. " If ever I marry," she announced, 
 " it will be a pastry-cook or an importer of sweeties. 
 You import sweeties, don't you, Uncle Van?" 
 she went on, with maddening unconsciousness. 
 ' Isn't that the good of being a merchant, that 
 you can have shiploads of everything ready to 
 hand?" 
 
 ; ' I am afraid that I don't import French choco- 
 late, Nulma. I wish I did, for then I could give
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 51 
 
 you a larger choice than one can have in Leichardt's 
 Town." 
 
 " But I like Leichardt's Town sweeties; and I 
 think these are quite delicious," said Nulma impar- 
 tially. " Besides, there's always cocoanut-candy, 
 which is as good as anything, if it isn't very high- 
 class. Now, I am not going to eat one more." She 
 tied the ribbons with decision. ' These are going 
 to Luce; and we'll stop at Wirrib and leave them 
 on our way, if you please." 
 
 He agreed. There was nothing Nulma wished 
 to which he would not agree; but he disliked Mrs. 
 Perryman, who was a draggled-looking lady with 
 a large family, and not many good words for her 
 neighbours. But Luce Perryman was Nulma's 
 most intimate friend, and Mrs. Perryman somehow 
 reminded James Goodeve of his dead wife, about 
 whom there had been a tragic story. So, out of 
 sentiment hardly to be expected in one so matter-of- 
 fact, though quite aware of Mrs. Perryman's short- 
 comings in the social sense, he allowed his daughter 
 to depend upon her a good deal for such chaperon- 
 age as was necessary when he himself was in the 
 House of Assembly or otherwise occupied. Mr. 
 Goodeve hated society, probably because he felt 
 himself ill at ease in it, and he looked forward with 
 inward groaning to the time when Nulma should 
 come out, and, of course, wish to go to balls and 
 entertainments generally. As yet, Nulma went to 
 no parties but those at the Perrymans', which were
 
 52 NULMA. 
 
 not formal, grown-up affairs. There were, how- 
 ever, other occasions when her father desired for her 
 the countenance of some older woman. With a 
 fastidiousness not altogether in keeping with his 
 antecedents, he sternly set his face against the pre- 
 vailing fashion among Leichardt's Town young 
 ladies, of parading Victoria Street in the afternoons, 
 and of hanging about the ice-cream shop where the 
 young gentlemen were wont to lounge after office 
 hours, and which became the scene of more or less 
 pronounced flirtation. 
 
 Mr. Goodeve was determined that his daughter 
 should never make herself cheap in this manner, 
 and Nulma was forbidden ever to walk in Leich- 
 ardt's Town unless Mrs. Perryman or some married 
 woman were with her. Nulma did not know any 
 other married woman, and so when the girl wanted 
 to do shopping, Mrs. Perryman, with outward 
 grumbling but inward satisfaction, would don her 
 shabby black mantle, rusty lace bonnet, and, with 
 skirts trailing in the dust, would pant along in the 
 heat if it were summer, or less laboriously if it were 
 winter, beside Nulma and her own Luce; and they 
 would catch the tram at the corner and spend the 
 afternoon going from one shop to another, winding 
 up with the ice-cream shop, where Nulma had an 
 opportunity of observing the demeanour of other 
 young ladies already out and on their promotion. 
 She also heard a good deal of gossip while she was 
 eating ices and sweets, for Mrs. Perryman loved
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 53 
 
 to talk; and she became conscious, too, that the 
 young gentlemen from the offices eyed her with 
 admiration; and thus she gained her first faint real- 
 ization of the fact that she was pretty. When not 
 with Mrs. Perryman, she was obliged to content 
 herself with Luce's descriptions of the delights of 
 Victoria Street in the afternoons, for Mrs. Perry- 
 man was not so particular about her daughter as 
 Mr. Goodeve was about his. She had a good many 
 others coming on, and it was an object to her to 
 marry the elder ones as soon as possible, whereas 
 Mr. Goodeve had only one, and was particularly 
 anxious that Nulma should not marry — at any rate, 
 too soon. There was no reason why she should 
 marry. If Mr. Goodeve did not lose his money by 
 speculation, she would be a rich woman in time. 
 He had turned Goodeve's Consolation into a com- 
 pany at the height of the boom, and was known to 
 be shrewd and prudent, so that Nulma's prospects 
 were pretty well assured, and she was a desirable 
 match. Of this fact her father was aware, and he 
 did his best to make people believe he was not a 
 rich man. He avoided outward show, made his girl 
 dress plainly, and would not allow her to have her 
 own pony-carriage, which last was a standing griev- 
 ance to Mrs. Perryman, as she knew that she would 
 have had the use of it. Mr. Perryman was the head 
 of the Mines department under the Minister, but 
 he had no private means, and could not afford his 
 wife a buggy, far less a victoria, which was her
 
 54 NULMA. 
 
 ambition. He fully understood the advantages of 
 being on good terms with Ministers, present, past, 
 and future, and so he, too, was one of those who 
 conspired in the spoiling of Nulma. 
 
 Mrs. Perryman was sitting in the veranda at 
 Wirrib, as their place was called, after a fashion 
 happily not then in disuse, of native nomenclature. 
 Wirrib in the Blacks' language means a parrot, and 
 perhaps, from association of ideas, the Perryman 
 girls were fond of birds, and had several cages about 
 in which were Galah and Blue Mountain parrots, 
 and some pink and white and yellow and white 
 cockatoos. One of these, an ancient, knowing- 
 looking bird, shrieked out at sight of Nulma: 
 ' Lulu, where's your sweetheart? Pretty Cocky! 
 Have a candy." 
 
 ''Quiet, Cocky!" cried Mrs. Perryman, who 
 seemed more draggled and hotter than usual, 
 dressed in a flowered barege skirt and an untidy 
 jacket. ' But the bird knows what he's talking 
 about, doesn't he, Mr. Van Vechten? Well, I am 
 surprised, Lulu, at your father letting you go out 
 without him, and alone with a single gentleman, 
 too!" 
 
 " Daddy is busy, Mrs. Perryman." 
 
 " And he thinks I am old enough and staid 
 enough to be trusted with Miss Nulma," put in 
 Mr. Van Vechten stiffly. The merchant did not 
 like Mrs. Perryman. 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt Mr. Goodeve knows what
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 55 
 
 he is about," retorted Mrs. Perryman. " But we 
 shall have all the young- ladies of Leichardt's Town 
 jealous, if Nulma monopolizes the catch of the 
 place. What will Miss Degraves say? I hear she 
 is determined not to be ousted from Government 
 House, and that she has tacked herself already on 
 to Lady Arthur Keefe." 
 
 " You know everything, Mrs. Perryman," said 
 Mr. Van Vechten. ' I hope your daughter is going 
 on all right. I was very sorry to hear of her acci- 
 dent." 
 
 Whereupon Mrs. Perryman launched into a long 
 account of her feelings when the party had broken 
 up on account of Luce's fall. She complained also 
 of the inconvenience Luce's illness caused, and of 
 the additional cost in doctor's fees entailed by Wir- 
 rib being beyond the town radius. 
 
 " How Dr. Clayton can reconcile it to his con- 
 science to charge by the mile, as if he were a Lon- 
 don physician, is a wonder to me," said Mrs. Perry- 
 man, " seeing that all his patients live out of town. 
 Do the doctors suppose that we are going to steam 
 ourselves in Leichardt's Town just because of them? 
 It will come to that for the poor people, or else we 
 must physic ourselves — and I call it short-sighted 
 policy on the part of the doctors." 
 
 " I suppose they have to pay for their horses?'" 
 said Mr. Van Vechten. 
 
 Then Mrs. Perryman talked of the origin of 
 the accident, and declared that if she could only
 
 56 NULMA. 
 
 find out who had laid that hit of orange-peel — for 
 she was convinced that it had been set on purpose 
 — she would make Air. Perryman bring an action 
 for damages against the parents of the offender. 
 Mr. Van Vechten noticed that Nulma screwed up 
 her lips tighter and that her eyes flashed again, but 
 she never said a word ; and Van Vechten conceived 
 an even greater admiration than he already enter- 
 tained for his young friend's loyalty, even to an 
 enemy, as well as for her discretion. It was satis- 
 factory to know that Nulma at least would not do 
 a mean thing, or betray a' confidence, though the 
 confidence had been made to her by a person 
 whom she wished to punish. Nulma, impatient, 
 threw the little box of chocolate into Mrs. Perry- 
 man's lap. 
 
 " Catch! " she cried. ' It's for Luce, with my 
 love; and you are to be sure and say that Mr. Van 
 Vechten brought it." 
 
 4 For you?" said Mrs. Perryman meaningly. 
 " Fie! Receiving presents from a gentleman! What 
 will your father say? and he's so down upon Luce 
 for taking so much as an ice-cream at any of those 
 young gentlemen's expense. But you are a privi- 
 leged person, I suppose, Mr. Van Vechten? " 
 
 " I hope so," returned Van Vechten haughtily. 
 " Miss Nulma, if we are to have anything of a ride, 
 we'd better get on." 
 
 Nulma left a tender message for Luce, to the 
 effect that she would come round for a minute or
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 57 
 
 two after dinner that evening, and they rode off, 
 Mrs. Ferryman calling out after Van Vechten: 
 
 " I suppose we shall see you at the Government 
 House reception on Wednesday, unless you mean 
 to retire into your shell again now that Lady Ran- 
 dal has gone? We are all going to pay our respects 
 to Lady Arthur Keefe." 
 
 " I certainly think I shall retire into my shell," 
 said Van Vechten to Nulma, only answering Mrs. 
 Perryman with a parting salutation. 
 
 " Oh, please don't," answered the girl, " because 
 / am going." 
 
 "You? Oh, Nulma, I forgot; you are to be 
 a grown-up young lady after the May ball." 
 
 " Yes. And Mrs. Perryman says it's the proper 
 thing for me to go to the reception, and be intro- 
 duced to Lady Arthur, and write my name in the 
 book — and all the rest; and then I shall be asked 
 properly to the May ball." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought Mrs. Perryman was 
 much of an authority on social matters. But I sup- 
 pose it's all right. Is it she who is going to take 
 you?" 
 
 ' Daddy will be there. Mrs. Perryman wants 
 to come with us. We shall have the buggy if daddy 
 takes us. Luce was to have gone. But poor Luce! 
 They don't know if she will be able to come out at 
 the ball now. Uncle Van, tell me — what is Lady 
 Arthur like?" 
 
 " She is not as nice as Lady Randal. I wish
 
 53 NULMA. 
 
 it had been in Lady Randal's time that yon had 
 been coming out." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Randal! I'm getting tired of hear- 
 ing so much about what I've missed in Lady 
 Randal. Daddy says Lady Arthur is very hand- 
 some." 
 
 " Didn't you go and see them when they ar- 
 rived?" 
 
 ' Mrs. Perryman couldn't leave Luce, and daddy 
 was on duty as one of the Ministers, you know. I 
 am very anxious to see Lady Arthur." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know; because she is Lady Ar- 
 thur, I suppose. It must feel so odd to be a Mar- 
 quis's daughter-in-law — quite different from being 
 a Nulma Goodeve." 
 
 " I don't suppose you would feel any different 
 from yourself, if a Marquis's son were to come 
 along and marry you. You would still be Nulma 
 Goodeve." 
 
 ' No, I shouldn't. I should be Nulma — some- 
 thing else," she cried, laughing. 
 
 ' Nulma," he began eagerly, and added more 
 deliberately, " do you ever wish — do you ever think 
 of being Nulma anything else?" 
 
 ' Well, yes — I do," the girl answered fearlessly, 
 though she blushed. " I don't mean that I want 
 to be. But one can't help wondering, you know." 
 
 ' Wondering what sort of person you will 
 marry: is that it? "
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 
 
 59 
 
 " Well, yes. I suppose I shall marry, some day 
 or other." 
 
 " I should think it is almost a certainty." 
 
 " It's a very serious thing, Mr. Van Vechten." 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " For a girl; it doesn't matter so much for a 
 man. But for a girl — it's just what you said in 
 the veranda: signing a bond which would tie one 
 down all one's life. I suppose," she added, sud- 
 denly giving him her quick, full glance, " I wasn't 
 thinking much about it at the time; but I suppose 
 you meant marrying, didn't you?" 
 
 " Yes, I meant marrying. It was rather foolish 
 of me to say anything about it, and perhaps I 
 oughtn't to go on. But I think I'll tell you what I 
 meant, Nulma — now, before you come out and are 
 a grown-up young lady. You are sure to hear much 
 the same thing then, very soon. What I meant was 
 that, supposing I, being much older than you, yet 
 caring for you more than I have ever cared for 
 any woman in the world, should ask you to marry 
 me?" Nulma nodded, as though there were noth- 
 ing unnatural in the proposition. He took courage, 
 and went on more boldly: "Well, Nulma, suppose 
 this were so. Would it be fair? For, you see, I 
 am more than twice — very nearly three times — your 
 age. I naturally understand the world in a way 
 that you cannot do. I know what love means, and 
 what marriage means; and you, my child, haven't 
 the least idea of either. You have never seen the 
 5
 
 60 NULMA. 
 
 man yet whom you could love — tell me truthfully, 
 my dear. Have you ever met any man with whom 
 you could be, as they say, 'in love'?" 
 
 Nulma checked her horse, which had broken 
 into a jog, reining him in till he walked steadily. 
 The beautiful creature arched its neck under the 
 tightened curb, and she bent forward and patted 
 his mane. 
 
 ; ' He's a beauty, Mr. Van Vechten, but he just 
 wants pacing a bit; he's as gentle as a lamb. I be- 
 lieve the pretty thing would eat bread out of my 
 hand. I'll try him when we get home. I had no 
 idea he was so quiet." 
 
 " Do you think I'd put you on anything that 
 wasn't quiet, Nulma? But you haven't answered 
 my question." 
 
 Nulma pursed up her chin after a way she had 
 when deep in reflection, and seemed to be mentally 
 ticking off the men who had any claim to consid- 
 eration as possible lovers. 
 
 "They mustn't be married, I suppose?" she 
 asked, as if it were a condition relating to the guess- 
 ing of a riddle. 
 
 "Of course not!" he answered a little sharply, 
 for, in truth, his nerves were strained by the situa- 
 tion. " How could you love anyone who was mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 ' Well, no, I couldn't, could I? But I was just 
 thinking that if Sir John Randal had ever wanted 
 to marry me, I should have been so pleased."
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 6 1 
 
 "Nulma! But you never spoke to Sir John 
 Randal, child?" 
 
 " No, I didn't," she admitted. " But, then, I've 
 seen him, and, of course, I've heard a great deal 
 about him." She reflected again. " No, I can't 
 think of anvone else. You see, I had always made 
 up my mind that, if I ever fell in love with anyone, 
 it must be an Englishman. I do so want to go to 
 England." 
 
 " No other nationality would do, then? Even 
 if the — man who loved you promised to take you 
 to England, and show you every sight there to 
 which money would open the doors?" His voice 
 was choked, though he laughed as though the whole 
 thing were a good joke. 
 
 " Oh, but that wouldn't be the same thing," 
 objected Nulma earnestly. " It wouldn't make him 
 an Englishman — accustomed all his life to ways 
 and ideas like what one reads of in books. I'd like 
 him to have known celebrated people, so that he 
 could talk to me about them. I'd like him to have 
 seen all the great places, and be able to make me 
 feel that I had lived there, too. I'd like him to 
 have heard the best music, and read the best books. 
 I'd like him to have distinguished himself, and to 
 have been accustomed to beautiful and high-born 
 
 ladies But, oh, what am I dreaming of? " she 
 
 cried, pulling herself up short, and the Arab, too, 
 in her excitement. " If he were a man like 
 that, how would he ever come to choose me —
 
 62 NULMA. 
 
 vie, that can't even spell correctly or talk gram- 
 mar! " 
 
 " There are other things which make a woman 
 charming besides being able to spell correctly and 
 talk grammatically. In fact, I don't feel sure that 
 a thorough knowledge of spelling is at all indis- 
 pensable," said Van Vechten. " Well, I think I am 
 answered, Nulma, all the same, and I won't go on 
 to the other part of my supposings " 
 
 " Oh, but I should like to hear them," she an- 
 swered, her beautiful face glowing upon his with a 
 cruel unconsciousness. " Of course, I know that 
 you are only pretending just to amuse me, and to 
 make something to talk about. But I should like 
 to hear, all the same." 
 
 ' No, I wasn't pretending; I was in earnest. 
 Don't be afraid, however " — as he noticed that a 
 look of sorrow and perplexity came over the girl's 
 features — " I'm not going to worry you to marry 
 me!" 
 
 "Ah!" The look of perplexity was succeeded 
 by one of relief. She now thought that he could 
 not be in earnest. " I'm so glad. You see, I like 
 you so immensely, Uncle Van; but, of course, that 
 isn't the thing, you know." 
 
 " No," he answered, with a sigh, " that isn't the 
 thing, and you were quite right, my dear. If I did 
 persuade you to bind yourself in that way now, be- 
 fore you even knew what the thing means, you'd 
 be justified in hating me all your life afterwards.
 
 NULMA'S COMPACT. 6$ 
 
 But I'd like you to know this, Nulma," he added, 
 with a dreary sort of laugh, " if ever you find out 
 that it would suit you to marry me, you've only got 
 to tell me so frankly, and you'll make me the proud- 
 est and happiest man upon earth." 
 
 " You are good to me," said the girl, smiling 
 at him with a real gratitude. " That's just how I 
 should want things to be. It sounds funny, doesn't 
 it — the idea of my coming to you and saying that 
 I should like you to marry me? But you could 
 always refuse, you know, if the time ever came 
 and you had changed your mind. I shouldn't feel 
 hurt or offended." 
 
 " Oh yes, I could always refuse — you needn't 
 let that trouble you! But I don't think I should 
 refuse, Nulma. It's a bargain — you promise? " 
 
 " Yes, it's a bargain — that is — what does it mean 
 quite, Mr. Van Vechten? Tell me exactly." 
 
 "This: I engage on my side to be your good 
 friend. You may consider me as your elder broth- 
 er, or as a sort of uncle, for the time being — or for 
 always, if you please — at your service in big things 
 and in small. I engage also not to bother you 
 with talk about love or marriage; but you, on 
 your side, engage to come honestly to me, if at 
 any time it suits you — as I said — to marry me, 
 and to tell me so without false pride or hesita- 
 tion." 
 
 'That sounds very easy; I can certainly prom- 
 ise that; and of course it's a bargain. We ought
 
 64 NULMA. 
 
 to shake hands upon it, oughtn't wc, if the Arab 
 will let me get close enough." 
 
 She pulled her horse, which was docile and an- 
 swered to the bit, a little nearer to him and held 
 out her hand. They were riding upon a very quiet 
 path, having turned off inland from the river; and 
 on either side were only stretches of gum-trees, with 
 here and there the cottage of a German farmer set 
 in its grove of bananas. Mr. Van Vechten took 
 Nulma's hand, but instead of merely pressing it, 
 he raised it to his lips. She noticed with some sur- 
 prise that his calm, sallow face flushed to a deep 
 red as he did so, and that his eyes had a strange look 
 in them as he turned them upon her again. 
 
 ' Now," he said, " here's a nice bit of soft road. 
 Let us try Emin at a canter. Don't ride him too 
 much on the curb; he doesn't want it."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 
 
 Lady Arthur's first reception was necessarily 
 a somewhat formal affair. She had wanted to have 
 it in the garden, but had been overruled by the aide- 
 de-camp, who had pointed out that the crowd would 
 probably be considerable, and that there might be 
 a difficulty over the announcements, and in mak- 
 ing clear to her who were the wives and daughters 
 of officials, and the people who might claim from 
 her a greater amount of consideration than the mere 
 common herd. The aide-de-camp, who was new 
 to his work, had taken great pains to get social 
 information, and was extremely anxious that the 
 new reign should begin without mistakes. The 
 Governor had made one already in declining an 
 invitation to a show up-country. He had given 
 the plea that his health hardly permitted him to 
 undergo the fatigue of Bush drives and agricultural 
 functions in the warm weather. The show had been 
 postponed in consequence till the end of April, but 
 there had been much dissatisfaction, and the Radi- 
 
 65
 
 66 NULMA. 
 
 cal paper had had a condemnatory leading article, 
 which was headed, with more regard to alliteration 
 than to accuracy, " Valetudinarian Vice-Royalty." 
 The Governor's manner, too, had not made a fa- 
 vourable impression. It was considered too stiff and 
 formal; and people said that if he wanted to be 
 popular he would have to learn the difference be- 
 tween a Crown colony and one with its own House 
 of Representatives, and free and independent consti- 
 tution. The aide-de-camp was aware of the dissatis- 
 faction, and spoke to Lord Arthur in the hope that 
 he might be able to say a word to the Governor, 
 which would produce at least a show of geniality. 
 But Lord Arthur was not disturbed, as was the aide- 
 de-camp. Sir John Randal, he said, being a young 
 man and a professional Governor, popularity had 
 been his game, whereas Colonel Burnside was an 
 old man who didn't care a hang about popularity, 
 and meant to retire on his pension as soon as his 
 term was over. Somehow, this view of things got 
 into the papers too, and Leichardt's Land was in- 
 dignant at having been made the means of secur- 
 ing a retiring pension. On the whole, things, so- 
 cially speaking, were not promising, and the aide- 
 de-camp placed his whole hope on Lady Arthur. 
 
 She did not disappoint him. She, too, had 
 taken pains in her own way to get information, and 
 knew almost as well as the aide-de-camp to whom 
 she ought to be gracious. Consequently, she had 
 a pretty word or two for the Ministers' wives, and
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 67 
 
 the persons who it behooved her to honour. She 
 received in the large hall, which at the smaller 
 dances was used as a ballroom, and which, with 
 the aid of Captain Textor, the aide-de-camp, who 
 had a talent for decoration, the curator of the Bo- 
 tanical Gardens, and her own maid, she caused to 
 look very different from what it had done in Lady 
 Randal's time. The former Governor's wife, hav- 
 ing been accustomed to the stiff magnificence of 
 Italian palaces, had never imbibed the modern taste 
 in arrangement. Lady Arthur, on the contrary, had 
 been obliged in her little London house to make 
 up for lack of costly furniture by a skilful disposi- 
 tion of palms and draperies. Thus, her Rhodian 
 and Cretan embroideries were something new in 
 Leichardt's Town, and gave food for conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 ' I hope you won't think I have been making 
 too many innovations," said Lady Arthur sweetly 
 to Airs. Latham, who was a fat, good-natured-look- 
 ing lady with prematurely gray hair turned back 
 from her unwrinkled forehead. " I understand that 
 Lady Randal didn't use the hall as a sitting-room, 
 but the Governor thinks it the coolest part of the 
 house; and as he is accustomed to big airy rooms, 
 we spend a good deal of our time in it, and I have 
 tried to make it home-like." 
 
 She smiled up at Colonel Burnside, who stood 
 beside her, and to whom she gave the initiative as 
 to the people he ought to talk to. He could not
 
 68 NULMA. 
 
 help being stiff, but his manner had an old-fash- 
 ioned courtesy, which was attractive to women, 
 and Mrs. Latham found herself chatting with the 
 Governor more unrestrainedly than her husband's 
 description had led her to suppose was possible. 
 She was very shy, but perfectly unaffected, and 
 Mr. Latham owed much of his success to her tact 
 and good-humour. Two of the other Ministers' 
 wives were vulgar, and a third was commonplace, 
 and Lady Arthur began to think that the political 
 dinners would be trying affairs. But she was bound 
 to admit that there were some extremely charming 
 women among the ladies of Leichardt's Town. 
 Mrs. Degraves, for instance, wife of the President 
 of the Council — lately Acting Governor — looked 
 as if she had been packed up in Paris and sent out 
 in silver paper, her bonnet was so pretty and her 
 flowered silk so well made. As a matter of fact, 
 she and her daughter — the Miss Degraves to whom 
 Lady Randal had been so anxious to marry Mr. 
 Van Vechten — got out a box every half-year from 
 a fashionable London dressmaker. Mrs. Degraves 
 had a sprightly way of talking. She was a free- 
 thinker, and went in for being intellectual. She had 
 a faded, distinguished face, and carried her years 
 well. Miss Degraves was tall and dark, and cer- 
 tainly handsome. 
 
 " This is quite delightful," said Mrs. Degraves, 
 nodding round at the palms and embroideries. " I 
 can see, Lady Arthur, that you are going to teach
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 69 
 
 us how to be artistic; I assure you we want a few 
 lessons badly." 
 
 Lady Arthur said that it had not struck her 
 that the services of an art apostle were needed in 
 Leichardt's Town. 
 
 " Ah, but you haven't been into any of our 
 houses as yet; and I don't suppose you'll ever have 
 great opportunities of judging, unless it is on Ubi 
 Downs. The Government House people always 
 stay with our big squatters up there ; but they don't 
 visit among us ordinary Leichardtstonians, except 
 on verv state occasions." 
 
 Mrs. Degraves laughed, knowing that she her- 
 self was not to be included among the ordinary 
 Leichardtstonians, and being secure in the con- 
 sciousness that her own pretty drawing-room was 
 above criticism. 
 
 Lady Arthur turned to greet Mr. Van Vechten, 
 whom she recognised instantly. He was quiet and 
 impressive as usual, and was dressed more cor- 
 rectly than many of the gentlemen present; but he 
 looked, notwithstanding, slightly out of place in a 
 fashionable gathering, and seemed a little nervous 
 — if, indeed, the word " nervous " could be applied 
 to one so composed — for his eyes roved restlessly 
 about, and every now and then glanced quickly 
 towards the door. 
 
 ' Mrs. Perryman, Mr. James Goodeve, Miss 
 Nulma Goodeve:" so the butler announced, and 
 Caspar Van Vechten's eyes ceased from roving.
 
 yo NULMA. 
 
 Mrs. Perryman's frilled scarf and high bonnet 
 obscured Nulma's slight form; but she passed on 
 after a formal greeting by Lady Arthur, who knew 
 that she was only the wife of a Civil servant. Then 
 somehow a rift in the crowd brought the young 
 girl into almost startling prominence. She stood 
 quite still, while Lady Arthur said something nice 
 to her father, and watched Margot's face with a 
 grave and intensely eager interest. It never oc- 
 curred to Nulma to hide anything she was feeling, 
 and she was overpoweringly interested in Lady 
 Arthur. The foreign-looking woman, with her nar- 
 row face, her thin nose, her peculiar smile, the 
 blinking gaze she gave out of her dark, brilliant 
 eyes, and her crinkly hair parted above her low 
 forehead — the whole personality, in short, affected 
 Nulma as no other in her life had ever affected her. 
 She was not quite sure whether she was attracted 
 or repelled, but of the fascination Lady Arthur exer- 
 cised there could be no doubt. Nulma had never 
 seen anyone the least like her. How could people 
 say that she resembled Lady Randal? There- had 
 been nothing subtle and serpentine about Lady 
 Randal. Nulma could see no point of similarity, 
 except that both women were dark and had the for- 
 eign trick of gesture. To Nulma, every word that 
 Lady Arthur spoke seemed like a caress; but might 
 it not be a dangerous caress, like that which a cat 
 may give the mouse with which she is playing be- 
 fore dealing it the death-blow? Lady Arthur's eyes
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. y\ 
 
 rested full on Nulma's face. The two women gazed 
 at each other, and Lady Arthur paused in the 
 sentence she was addressing Mr. Goodeve. It 
 had been in relation to the show, and the Gov- 
 ernor's regret at his inability to attend it. She had 
 been explaining to Mr. Goodeve that the Governor 
 — who was now in conversation with Mrs. De- 
 graves — was not ill at all in reality, but only a little 
 enfeebled temporarily by the effects of an African 
 fever which had again attacked him in the rainy 
 
 heat off Ceylon. " But your climate is so " she 
 
 was saying, and stopped. 
 
 " Mr. Goodeve," she added, " I want to know 
 your daughter. I haven't said, ' How do you do?' 
 to her yet. Ah, how pretty she is!" — this in a 
 rapid undertone. 
 
 ' It is Nulma's first appearance in society, 
 Lady Arthur," said James Goodeve, reddening 
 with pleasure at the sensation his daughter had 
 created. " She is to come out at your Birthday 
 ball." 
 
 " So I have heard already," said Lady Arthur, 
 giving Nulma her hand, and smiling sweetly at the 
 girl. " Do you know, Miss Goodeve, yours was 
 almost the first lady's name which interested me 
 on my arrival in Leichardt's Land. I happened 
 to overhear a conversation about you on the deck 
 of the tender — I couldn't help hearing it; it wasn't 
 anything private, I assure you, and it was between 
 your father and Mr. Latham and another gentle-
 
 72 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 man, whom I afterwards found to be Mr. Van 
 Vechten" 
 
 " Ah, then," said Nulma, " it was certain to be 
 something nice, for not one of them would say an 
 ill word of me." 
 
 ' You are fortunate to be so absolutely con- 
 vinced of the single-hearted devotion of three men. 
 But, of course, one of them is your father." 
 
 " And Mr. Latham has known me ever since 
 I was a baby," said Nulma; "and the other is — 
 Mr. Van Vechten." 
 
 She had spoken quite innocently, but a sudden 
 blush suffused her face as she remembered the ride 
 and the bargain. Lady Arthur gave her little low 
 laugh. 
 
 " I am perfectly ready to believe in Mr. Van 
 Vechten's devotion," she said. " He was here a 
 moment ago. Now, Miss Nulma, you must have 
 some tea, and I shall see that you are well taken 
 care of at the Birthday ball. But tell me — your 
 name struck me so. How did you come by it? 
 It sounds Eastern. I have never heard it before." 
 
 Nulma glanced at her father, whose bluff, burly 
 face had a pained expression. He turned abruptly 
 away. Lady Arthur perceived that she had been 
 indiscreet. 
 
 " I see," she murmured. " Never mind. Per- 
 haps it was your mother's name." 
 
 " No; it was not my mother's name," answered 
 Nulma. " But my mother gave it to me when
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECErTION. 
 
 73 
 
 she was dying. It is a native word. It means a 
 snake." 
 
 " It is very pretty, but I don't think it suits you 
 — the meaning of it, at least. I shouldn't fancy that 
 you had any of the serpent's guile, my dear. Well, 
 you must have some tea, and I will find someone 
 nice to take care of you." 
 
 She glanced over the heads of the little crowd 
 surrounding her, who happened to be mostly 
 women; and Nulma saw how tall she was. At that 
 moment the butler announced some other names. 
 Lady Arthur made an imperious little motion with 
 her head to a gentleman behind. He stepped for- 
 ward. 
 
 "Come," she said; "I want to present you to 
 the most charming young lady in the world, whose 
 first appearance it is in society, her father says, and 
 who is coming out at the Birthday ball. Take her 
 to have some tea, and show her how I have altered 
 the drawing-rooms. Miss Nulma Goodeve, let me 
 introduce your new Chief Justice, Mr. Kenward." 
 
 Kenward had noticed Nulma directly she came 
 in, and had been greatly struck by her beautiful 
 face and the shy, half-wild way in which she car- 
 ried herself. He felt inexpressibly attracted towards 
 her. The look Lady Arthur gave him over her 
 shoulder annoyed him, however. It seemed to say: 
 " I have introduced you to your child of Nature. 
 Don't abuse my trust." 
 
 He held out his arm to Nulma, but she did
 
 74 NULMA. 
 
 not take it, not being accustomed to the offering 
 of men's arms except for a dance. She walked 
 beside him very straight and erect, her stag-like 
 head, in its pretty white straw hat, which, tilted as 
 the fashion was, allowed the coils of her yellowish- 
 brown hair to show plainly, topping the heads of 
 most of the other women. He thought she was 
 like a young gum-sapling, she was so straight and 
 so slender and tall. 
 
 ' The tea is in the veranda," he said, " and we 
 will come back to the drawing-room afterwards." 
 
 ' I don't want any tea, thank you," said Nulma. 
 " I had some with Luce Perryman at Wirrib." 
 
 He wondered who Luce Perryman might be 
 and where Wirrib was. The word came from her 
 lips with the prettiest whirr. 
 
 i( I'm glad to find that Leichardt's Land is not 
 following the bad practice of some of her sister 
 colonies, and changing the native names into Cock- 
 ney ones," he observed. 
 
 " I don't know where Cockney is," said Nulma. 
 " But I think we are getting nearly as bad as the 
 others. We have called our long streets after the 
 English history queens, and the cross ones after 
 the kings; and they might just as well have had 
 pretty Australian names." 
 
 " Such as ? " 
 
 " Oh, Wirrib, Coryea, or Yarrabin, or ever so 
 many others. I'd have chosen the name of some 
 native beast or bird, so that in ages to come, when
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 
 
 75 
 
 the blacks are all dead and done for, their language 
 would remain." 
 
 " I quite agree with you, and it is a pretty, origi- 
 nal notion. Tell me, what do the words mean ? " 
 
 ' Wirrib means parrot, and Coryea is paddy- 
 melon, and Yarrabin is the white gum." 
 
 ' You seem to know a great deal about the 
 Blacks' language, Miss Goodeve?" 
 
 " I used to talk it quite well when I was a little 
 thing out West," answered Nulma. ' But that 
 isn't the Western dialect," she added. " I learned 
 those names from a half-caste woman daddy took 
 from the camp down South and brought up with 
 him." 
 
 They had reached the veranda, where a long 
 table was spread with fruit, ices, and tea and coffee. 
 
 ' Won't you try some red guavas and cream?" 
 said Kenward. ' They're the Australian substitute, 
 aren't they, for our strawberry squash?" 
 
 ' You shouldn't say ' our,' " said Nulma grave- 
 ly. ' You should forget now that you are English, 
 and make yourself Australian. A Leichardt's Land 
 Chief Justice ought to be Australian, you know. 
 Mr. Latham and the Ministers were rather cross 
 when you were appointed." 
 
 'Were they indeed?" said Kenward, handing 
 her the plate of iced guavas and cream, of which 
 Nulma showed a proper appreciation. " Please tell 
 me why." 
 
 ' They said it was keeping the colony in lead- 
 6
 
 j6 NULMA. 
 
 ing-strings," replied Nulma, " and treating us as 
 if we needed a schoolmaster." 
 
 ' You are very young still," said Kenward — 
 " the colony, I mean. I had not intended to be 
 personal. I have no doubt the Home Government 
 took that fact into consideration. Don't you think 
 that perhaps in some ways you do want a school- 
 master? " 
 
 " / do, I know," answered Nulma, with perfect 
 frankness, " or a schoolmistress. But, then, daddy 
 never would send me to school; and I did always 
 have such stupid governesses. It's not surprising 
 that I am so badly educated." 
 
 "Are you badly educated?" asked Kenward, 
 amused. " I should say that you were very well 
 educated. I don't suppose that any of the Oxford 
 professors could talk Blacks' language." 
 
 " Oh, that! " she exclaimed, with an accent of 
 contempt. " But I make horrible mistakes in spell- 
 ing, and I never can recollect a date. Still, Mr. 
 Kenward, it doesn't follow that, because I want a 
 schoolmaster, the other Leichardtstonians want one, 
 too. But I am sure they will like you very much 
 when they know you," she added graciously — " bet- 
 ter, perhaps, than one of themselves, for they would 
 have been jealous of him before long." 
 
 She had hardly looked at Kenward until now. 
 She had rattled on, as she had been in the habit 
 of doing with Van Vechten or Mr. Latham, or any 
 of the other men she knew intimately, of whom,
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 77 
 
 indeed, the number was small; and perhaps this 
 was the reason of her perfect unconsciousness. But 
 now, as she glanced up at Kenward's dark face, 
 so impressive in its. look of power and breeding, 
 and in the sensitive curves of his fine mouth and 
 chin, and as she noticed certain unconsidered trifles 
 about him, which stamped him as different from 
 the other men she knew — the cut of his clothes, the 
 colour of his tie, the unobtrusive watch-chain and 
 links and centre stud, which were so plain, but had 
 a certain distinctiveness and richness — a feeling 
 new to Nulma came over her, something of the 
 same feeling that she had about Lady Arthur, only 
 that in this there was nothing of repulsion mingled 
 with the vague fascination. 
 
 "Shall we go and look at the drawing-room?" 
 asked Kenward. " I wonder which you will like 
 the best. Lady Arthur's or Lady Randal's arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 " I shall not know, for I have never been in 
 the house before," answered Nulma. 
 
 " Really ! Oh yes, I remember that Lady 
 Arthur said this was your first entrance into so- 
 ciety." 
 
 He laughed slightly. This kind of social per- 
 formance seemed to him such a marionette play. 
 There was no tinge of sarcasm in the laugh, and 
 if there had been, she was too deeply impressed 
 with the importance of her entrance into society to 
 notice it.
 
 78 NULMA. 
 
 " I am to come out at the May ball," she an- 
 nounced gravely. " Oh, did Lady Arthur do all 
 this?" 
 
 She uttered the exclamation as they paused in 
 the larger reception-room, which was prettily 
 shaped, with two deep-set bow-windows, their em- 
 brasures made to seem deeper by means of screens 
 put endways, over which Lady Arthur had hung 
 some of her famous embroideries. The curator had 
 supplied well-grown palms in green tubs, and their 
 broad fronds threw shadows over the cosy corners. 
 The chairs and couches had been pulled out from 
 their former stiff positions, and there was the usual 
 litter of small tables, flowers, and miscellaneous 
 properties such as the modern woman likes to strew 
 about her — and, for those days, Lady Arthur was 
 very modern. The room was just a tasteful, slightly- 
 eccentric English drawing-room, but to Nulma it 
 seemed a scene of luxury and picturesque extrava- 
 gance unparalleled. 
 
 " Oh yes, it must be Lady Arthur's doing," 
 replied Kenward, " though I expect Textor — he 
 is the aide, you know — had a hand in it. Textor 
 has a genius for fixing up plants and dinner-tables 
 and draperies. No doubt you'll see something as- 
 tonishing in that way at the May ball." 
 
 " I think Lady Arthur must be very clever," 
 said Nulma. " I should never have thought of 
 sticking up needlework like that. Is it what people 
 do in England? I shall tell Mrs. Perryman; she
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 
 
 79 
 
 does such a lot of woolwork, and never knows how 
 to fix it." 
 
 Kenward laughed again, and wondered whether 
 Lady Arthur would be amused at the child of Na- 
 ture's comparison of her wonderful old embroid- 
 eries with Mrs. Perryman's woolwork. On second 
 thoughts, however, he decided not to tell her of it. 
 The girl added reflectively, as though she had been 
 weighing the matter: 
 
 " Mrs. Perryman's work wouldn't look at all 
 like that, though. It's hideous — like herself. Stod- 
 gy, you know." 
 
 " Well," said Kenward, " I must say that Mrs. 
 Perryman's personality — she is the lady with roses 
 in her bonnet — doesn't suggest the graceful Arab 
 girls who made that embroidery. Arab girls have 
 all to embroider a long strip before they can be 
 married. Did you know?" 
 
 ' No; I don't know anything about Arab 
 girls. Have you been in the East?" she asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, only along the beaten track. I've win- 
 tered in Egypt and Algeria." 
 
 Nulma seemed to be again reflecting upon the 
 embroidery and upon the difference between Mrs. 
 Perryman and graceful Arab maidens. 
 
 " I should think they must have been thinking 
 happy thoughts," she said. " People must put a 
 good deal of themselves into their work, shouldn't 
 you say?"
 
 So NULMA. 
 
 ' I'm sure they do." Kenward remembered a 
 fanciful arabesque pattern upon which Lady Ar- 
 thur had occupied herself during tWe voyage, and 
 about which he had teased her, as representing her 
 varying moods. " I wonder what your work would 
 be like!" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, I never do any. But if I did, it wouldn't 
 be Mrs. Perryman's kind. I'd get Bush flowers 
 and twist them into patterns of wreaths or some- 
 thing — round boomerangs and nulla-nullas, so as 
 to remind one of romantic savage things. I'd group 
 them to make one fancy each flower was a thought, 
 and each thought part of a song." 
 
 " And your song? A native woman's love-song, 
 I conclude." 
 
 Nulma laughed. 
 
 ' Who would ever dream of a blackgin sing- 
 ing a love-song? Poor things! they're never given 
 the chance. If a black fellow takes a fancy to a 
 girl, he just throws a spear into the camp where 
 she is, and if she is not sold to anyone else he pays 
 for her and gets her. There's nothing very romantic 
 about that. My song would be a song of the Bush, 
 that's all." 
 
 " A song of the woods and streams; of whisper- 
 ing she-oaks and rustling gums; a song of the cries 
 of Bush birds, and of the pure thoughts of Nature- 
 spirits. It should be sweet, wild, joyous, but with 
 a note of melancholy in it. I like the notion of your 
 song, Miss Nulma, and I hope that some day you
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 8 1 
 
 will work that piece of embroidery and give me the 
 interpretation thereof." 
 
 Nulma's eyes met his in a fearless, half-doubt- 
 ing gaze; then drooped, reassured. She had fan- 
 cied uneasily for a moment that he might be laugh- 
 ing at her. He in his turn was startled by the 
 brilliancy of those brown eyes, with the yellow 
 glints in them which harmonized with her chestnut 
 hair, and with the hue of her soft warm cheeks. 
 Her skin in its sun-kissed bloom made him think 
 of a ripe apricot. A fantastic idea seized him that 
 he would like to see her dressed in certain shades 
 of russet and yellow-green, to carry out the simile. 
 He asked absently: 
 
 "Do you ever wear yellow and green?" 
 
 'Yellow and green?" she repeated. "No; 
 why?" 
 
 " I beg a hundred pardons, but it occurred to 
 me that I should like to make a study of you in 
 those colours. That's all." 
 
 "A study of me?" she said, puzzled. "What 
 sort of a study? " 
 
 " A study in oils. I should like to paint you." 
 
 " Are you a painter? " she questioned with awed 
 interest. 
 
 " I dabble a bit. Do you think it's an odd foible 
 for a Chief Justice? Please don't respect me the 
 less, or give me away, just yet, to the Leichardt- 
 stonians." 
 
 !< I wasn't thinking of that — at least, of its being
 
 82 NULMA. 
 
 an odd foible." She did not know what he meant 
 exactly by being " given away "; his modern jargon 
 was unfamiliar to her. " But, oh! I love pictures." 
 
 " Do you? I thought you would care for art, 
 somehow." 
 
 " Oh! How could I know anything about art? 
 We haven't any out here. That's what Luce tells 
 me Mrs. Degraves is always saying." 
 
 'Where do you learn, then, to love pictures?" 
 
 ' They had an exhibition here, you know, last 
 year; and the galleries of Melbourne and Sydney 
 and some of the rich people down there, sent up 
 paintings. They were by the great artists in Eng- 
 land, and I used to go ever so often to look at 
 them." 
 
 ' Perhaps you would care to look at one or two 
 little things I brought out with me," he said. " They 
 are not by great artists. I can't afford to buy 
 Millais and Tadema, and the rest of them. But 
 I shall be surprised if the fellows who painted mine 
 haven't a big name some day. Miss Goodeve, I 
 shall feel very much honoured if you will come 
 some time with your father or Mrs. Perryman and 
 see my diggings and the pictures." 
 
 ' I should like very much to come," answered 
 Nulma frankly. " I suppose that daddy will let 
 me, now that I have come out. He won't let 
 me walk in Victoria Street, you know, like other 
 girls." 
 
 " I think your father is perfectly right."
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 83 
 
 " And he never would let me know anyone — 
 except the Perrymans and Mr. Van Vechten." 
 
 " Mr. Van Vechten must feel himself to be 
 a very favoured person," began the Chief Justice, 
 when the gentleman in question came up to where 
 the two were standing. He shook hands with Mr. 
 Kenward, whose acquaintance he had made on the 
 Government tender. 
 
 " I hear you talking about me," he said; "and 
 you are quite right. I do feel myself greatly fa- 
 voured in being permitted to have the honour of 
 occasionally escorting Miss Goodeve. Nulma," he 
 added, " your father asked me to bring you to him. 
 He's over there, talking to Mrs. Degraves, and he 
 would like you to be introduced to her." 
 
 Kenward bowed and withdrew. Nulma walked 
 away beside Van Vechten. 
 
 " I wish you hadn't interrupted us just now," 
 she said, a little pettishly. " I was having a beau- 
 tiful talk." 
 
 ' Then, I am sorry to have to put a stop to it," 
 replied Van Vechten stiffly; and his still face looked 
 more than ever as if it were cut in ivory. 
 
 " Don't be cross with me, Uncle Van. You 
 know what I mean." 
 
 " I don't think I do quite, Nulma. Your talk 
 had lasted a long time; and it would really be a 
 nice thing for you to know Mrs. Degraves; she 
 might take you about sometimes, instead of Mrs. 
 Ferryman."
 
 84 NULMA 
 
 ' I didn't mean that," cried Nulma, repentant. 
 " Of course, it was quite budgery of you to come 
 bothering about me. Still, I did have a beautiful 
 talk." 
 
 " What was it all about?" 
 
 ' Heaps of things. Pictures, and needlework, 
 and love-songs." 
 
 " Love-songs?" 
 
 " Oh, well, I said there couldn't be a blackgin's 
 love-song — Nature-songs. And he said he'd like to 
 paint me." 
 
 "Oh, did he indeed?" 
 
 ' You think a Chief Justice oughtn't to paint 
 pictures. It doesn't seem quite to go with trying 
 people and sentencing them. Would he ever have 
 to sentence them to death?" 
 
 ' Yes; if the jury had found them guilty of 
 murder, or anything of that sort." 
 
 Nulma shuddered. That view of Kenward's 
 vocation had not before struck her. 
 
 ' Horrible! How could he do it? One forgets 
 he is the Chief Justice " 
 
 She paused. They had made the length of the 
 big room, and were in the smaller one off it, where 
 Mr. Goodeve was standing in embarrassed con- 
 versation with Mrs. Degraves. He looked relieved 
 when Nulma appeared and the introduction was 
 effected. Mrs. Degraves had never hitherto taken 
 any notice of the Minister of Mines, but when 
 she saw the reception Lady Arthur gave to Nulma,
 
 THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE RECEPTION. 85 
 
 observed that the Chief Justice had been paying 
 her a good deal of attention, and reflected that she 
 would probably in time marry Mr. Van Vechten, 
 she decided that it would be a kindly thing to give 
 countenance to the young girl, who was so pretty 
 and who had no mother.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 If Caspar Van Vechten had been compelled to 
 state truthfully why he was so much in love with 
 the child Nulma, he would have found it difficult 
 to frame a series of logical reasons. When had he 
 begun to love her? It appeared to him that he had 
 loved her from the first moment he had seen her, 
 a tall, sapling-like girl in short frocks, whom he 
 had unexpectedly come upon as she stood wrath- 
 fully facing her governess, her brown eyes flash- 
 ing, her thin shoulders held back, and her burnt- 
 looking hair standing out in separate threads, as 
 if it were full of electricity. The governess had 
 done something to incur the girl's displeasure; 
 Mr. Van Vechten never quite knew what, but 
 gleaned that it was of a mean and underhand na- 
 ture, meanness and underhandedness being sins 
 held by Nulma in special reprobation. He sym- 
 pathized with the child, for he had conceived an 
 antipathy to the governess — or perhaps the an- 
 tipathy came after Nulma's outburst. Anyhow, he 
 
 86
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE 87 
 
 pleaded to Nulma's father, when Mr. Goodeve, with 
 an heroic effort at discipline, condemned his daugh- 
 ter to the punishment of not going for a ride dur- 
 ing the next four weeks. Nulma had stormed and 
 wept, and had forced Mr. Van Vechten to own 
 that she had a very hot temper; and later, when he 
 watched the ingenious methods by which she con- 
 trived to revenge herself upon the offending gov- 
 erness, and, finally, to compass her dismissal, he 
 realized that there was in her temper a con- 
 siderable spice of vindictiveness, as well as that 
 she had a stubborn will which might under 
 certain conditions make her a difficult person to 
 manage. 
 
 Yet he loved Nulma all the same; and he loved 
 her more and more the oftener he saw her. By- 
 and-by, when she found out that he had begged 
 her off, and got her sentence commuted to two 
 weeks' abstention from horseback instead of four, 
 her impulsive gratitude and pretty manner of show- 
 ing it convinced him that, if she was bad-tempered 
 and vindictive, she was very warm-hearted, and had 
 a power of fascination that would make her, as far 
 as men were concerned, a dangerous young woman. 
 She was then about fifteen, and from that time she 
 had seemed to recognise in him a friend, or, rather, 
 as she phrased it, " someone of the uncle sort." 
 So it came about that she got into the way of call- 
 ing him Uncle Van, which puzzled people who did 
 not know that there was no relationship whatever
 
 88 NULMA. 
 
 between them, and that the title was only a recog- 
 nition of the friendly interest he took in her, and a 
 mark of respect to one so many years older than 
 herself. 
 
 Van Vechten had an investment which brought 
 him into rather close business connectionship with 
 James Goodeve; and thus he was often at the 
 Bunyas, and was one of the very few men whom 
 Goodeve admitted into his home. The ostensible 
 bond of union between the men was the Goodeve 
 Consolation Company; the real one was Nulma. 
 Nulma was the ruling motive of both these men's 
 lives, though by Van Vechten this was only tacitly 
 admitted. Goodeve adored his daughter, the sur- 
 vivor of a tragedy which had darkened the ex-car- 
 rier's life; and Van Vechten, by the time of Nulma's 
 sixteenth birthday, had made up his mind that she, 
 and no other woman, should be his wife. He had 
 told Lady Randal so, under the pressure of certain 
 proposals of the Governor's wife; and Lady Randal 
 had told her friend, Caroline Degraves, who in her 
 turn had informed her mother, the President's 
 lady. 
 
 So it became pretty generally known in Leich- 
 ardt's Town that Nulma Goodeve, the girl who 
 was kept so rigorously in the background, and 
 never allowed by her father to be seen in Victoria 
 Street without a gauze veil, was likely to carry off 
 the most eligible bachelor of Leichardt's Land. To 
 be sure, there were other eligible bachelors, and
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 89 
 
 notably now the Chief Justice; but Van Vechten 
 had the reputation of being very rich, and he had 
 a fine house, and had been brought into prominence 
 by Lady Randal's notice; whereas the Chief Jus- 
 tice was known to have no fortune to speak of be- 
 yond his salary, and, moreover, it was already whis- 
 pered that he was devoted to Lady Arthur Keefe — 
 in due honour, be it understood, for, with all 
 their love of gossip, • the Leichardtstonians were 
 an unsophisticated community, and not given 
 to evil interpretations of the conduct of their 
 betters. 
 
 Caspar Van Vechten had not reached the age 
 of fifty without having had a romance. Few un- 
 married men of those years are bachelors unless 
 there is a woman for the reason. There had been 
 a woman in Van Vechten's life, and the woman had 
 been his divorced wife. Thus, when he became 
 known in Leichardt's Town, he was not, strictly 
 speaking, a bachelor, though the world believed him 
 so, and knew nothing of a certain marriage that 
 had taken place over twenty years before in 
 the State of New York, and had been there dis- 
 solved. 
 
 It was that divorce which had brought Van 
 Vechten to Australia, and which had been the cause 
 of his aloofness from society. He was a man with 
 decided views upon the sanctity of the marriage 
 bond, and though he had divorced his wife, and 
 had been glad that her position should be legiti-
 
 9 o 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 mized, he did not hold the same law of conduct 
 good for himself, and would have thought it wrong 
 to marry again while the woman who had been his 
 wife was alive. This placed him in a false situation. 
 Not choosing to take society into his confidence, 
 he was doing society an injustice, and laying him- 
 self open to the chance of having any attention 
 he might pay to an unmarried woman miscon- 
 strued. He therefore avoided women, and made 
 himself happy among his men friends in the house 
 he had built, with his horses and his garden for his 
 chief interest. Had he been an intellectual or artis- 
 tic person, he would have collected books and pic- 
 tures, and surrounded himself with bric-a-brac; but 
 he was not intellectual, and he knew nothing about 
 art. He had worked too hard at making money, 
 and he had never been brought into contact with 
 artistic people. As he grew richer, he interested 
 himself in an unostentatious sort of benevolence, 
 which had been the beginning of his short intimacy 
 with Lady Randal. Perhaps he would not have 
 permitted this intimacy had he not received the 
 news a little time after his first meeting with Nulma 
 that his divorced wife was dead. 
 
 Nulma was, as may be supposed, the very an- 
 tithesis of the woman he had first loved. He told 
 himself that he knew her in and in, and that there 
 was not one speck of deceit or disloyalty in her 
 nature. His wife had deceived him from the very 
 first, and had been grossly disloyal. He told him-
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 91 
 
 self that he would never trust his happiness a sec- 
 ond time to any woman old enough to know her 
 world, or who had been educated after the fashion 
 of ordinary girls. Nulma's frank avowals of her 
 ignorance were always to him so much in her of 
 added charm. He did not want a clever wife. He 
 wanted only Nulma, the beautiful, frank, wilful, 
 ignorant child, whom he loved because she was — 
 Nulma. 
 
 A day or two after the Government House re- 
 ception, Nulma was startled at seeing an orderly 
 ride round to the front-door, and still more when 
 two large square envelopes in thick cream-laid 
 paper, with the red official stamp on the flap, were 
 put into her hands. 
 
 " For me? " she cried. " It must be you, daddy; 
 
 and it's your invitation to the Ministers' dinner 
 
 and the Birthday ball." But, as she turned over 
 
 the envelopes, her own name met her on each. 
 
 ' Miss Goodeve, The Bunyas,' " she read aloud. 
 
 " You'd better open them, Lulu," said Mr. 
 Goodeve. " You're a come-out young lady now, 
 remember." 
 
 " And invitations are always addressed to the 
 lady," put in Mr. Van Vechten, who was sitting 
 with them in the veranda. It was Saturday after- 
 noon, and he had a habit of coming out on a Satur- 
 day, to take Nulma for a ride, or to talk business 
 and politics with the Minister of Mines, or merely 
 to lounge about the veranda and garden, and stay 
 7
 
 9 2 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 afterwards to dinner. " I think I know what it is," 
 he added. ' I found mine at home when I looked 
 in on my way out." 
 
 ' There are two," said Nulma, as she reverently 
 disclosed two oblong bits of pasteboard, which con- 
 veyed the information that the Governor requested 
 the honour of Mr. and Miss Goodeve's company, 
 in the first place, to a ball in celebration of her 
 Majesty's birthday on that day month, and, in the 
 second, to dinner on a much earlier date. 
 
 " I never was at a dinner-party in my life," said 
 Nulma. : * I don't know how to behave, or what 
 to eat, or whether to use my fork or spoon — or any- 
 thing. I couldn't go, daddy. I really couldn't; 
 you'd be ashamed of me." 
 
 ' I'm bound to be that, anyhow, at the ball — 
 ain't I, Lulu?" James Goodeve gave his gruff, 
 tender laugh as he looked at his daughter, his red 
 eyes dilating with pride and pleasure. He hated 
 parties, and nothing short of Ministerial obligations 
 would have persuaded him to dine at Government 
 House alone; but that Nulma should be asked was 
 a tribute that gratified him immensely. 
 
 " Oh, well, at any rate, I can dance," said Nulma 
 frankly. 
 
 "And you can eat, I suppose?" 
 
 ' Not properly. Besides, a ball is a very differ- 
 ent thing from going into a dinner-party with a 
 stranger." 
 
 " Perhaps he won't be a stranger," put in Mr.
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 93 
 
 Van Vechten. "I'm asked, too, Nulma; and it's 
 just possible they may send you in to dinner with 
 me. 
 
 " That would be letting me off easier, Uncle 
 Van," answered Nulma, not enthusiastically; "but 
 it would be pretty much the same, wouldn't it, as 
 if you were having dinner with us at home here, 
 except that there'd be Lady Arthur and the others 
 to look at, and somebody else on the other side 
 of me? I don't mind so much who that is as long 
 as it isn't Victor Degraves; I've got a down on Vic- 
 tor," added Nulma in Australian vernacular. 
 
 " What for, Lulu? He's a very fine young man, 
 and thinks no small-beer of himself, I can tell you," 
 said Mr. Goodeve. 
 
 Nulma pursed up her lips and shook her head. 
 
 "He's a mean-spirited thing!" she said; and 
 Van Vechten guessed that Victor Degraves had 
 somehow been implicated in the affair of the orange- 
 peel. Perhaps had egged on Malcolm Derrett, and 
 had thus provoked Nulma's scorn. 
 
 The dinner-party took place ten days later. 
 There had been a good deal of discussion at the 
 Bunyas and at Wirrib on the subject of Nulma's 
 dress, as well as on that of her behaviour. Mrs. 
 Perryman, on hearing that they were to have carte- 
 blanche at the dressmaker's, had inclined to some- 
 thing florid and expensive. She had bemoaned" 
 the rigorous necessity for white, but wished that 
 the material, at least, might be rich, and the orna-
 
 94 NULMA. 
 
 mentation profuse, with just a touch of colour — 
 blue forget-me-nots or pink roses, in artificial blos- 
 soms, clotted about it. Luckily, Mr. Van Vechten 
 heard the suggestion, and he made his views known 
 to Nulma's father, who decreed that his girl was to 
 be in pure white, with no jangles nor spangles nor 
 ornamentation whatsoever. Mr. Goodeve had in- 
 stinctively a refined taste in the matter of women's 
 appearance and behaviour, which was not so much 
 to be wondered at, seeing that his dead wife had 
 been brought up in a great house in England, and 
 had filled the situation of lady's-maid to one of the 
 daughters of the house. She had been twenty-five 
 when she married James Goodeve, the carrier, and 
 emigrated to Australia, and she had been a dainty, 
 pleasant-spoken young woman, educated above her 
 station, and a favourite with her mistress, who had 
 made something of a companion of her. Mr. Good- 
 eve, inspired by Van Vechten, was beginning to 
 have doubts as to Mrs. Perryman's fitness for the 
 office of Nulma's chaperon, and was casting about 
 in his mind whether Mrs. Degraves might not be 
 persuaded to undertake the duty, or, on occasions, 
 Mrs. Latham. But Mrs. Latham had religious 
 scruples about certain forms of gaiety, and could 
 not be always relied upon. Mrs. Degraves, how- 
 ever, in spite of her artistic tendencies, was an ob- 
 'ject of social consideration, and held a high place 
 in Leichardt's Town. 
 
 Mrs. Perryman was faintly aggrieved at her taste
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 95 
 
 being set aside, and more unreasonably hurt be- 
 cause she had not been asked to the dinner. It 
 would have been but natural, she declared, though 
 Mr. Perryman was only a head of department, see- 
 ing that she had accompanied Nulma to the recep- 
 tion, and Lady Arthur might thus have known that 
 she was to be considered as having the girl more or 
 less under her charge. 
 
 " I don't suppose that Lady Arthur has much 
 to do with it," said poor Luce Perryman from her 
 sofa. Luce was a little thing with bright yellow 
 hair, blue eyes, and a babyish freckled face. She 
 was considered pretty, and was a nice, unaffected 
 creature, sincerely anxious that Nulma should look 
 her best, and have a good time, even though she, 
 Luce, might not share it. " The aide-de-camp 
 keeps a list," she went on, " and puts the names 
 down from the visiting-book, and settles it all — at 
 least, that was how it used to be in the Randals' 
 time. Victor Degraves told me so, and the Acting 
 Governor's son ought to know." 
 
 " That may be for the balls and big dinners," 
 said Mrs. Perryman; " but a dinner-party with only 
 a fortnight's notice — and asking a young girl not 
 even properly come out! That means something 
 particular; you may be sure the aide-de-camp has 
 had nothing to do with it." 
 
 ' Mr. Goodeve is a Minister, you know, mam- 
 ma; and I suppose Nulma is asked because she 
 has no mother to go instead of her."
 
 g6 NULMA. 
 
 Ministers take their regular turns at the big 
 dinners. As if yon should know more about it than 
 your mother, Luce! Do stop arguing. And about 
 your dress, Nulma. I'm sorry your father and Mr. 
 Van Vechten don't approve of what I suggested; 
 and I can't say that I think Mr. Van Vechten has 
 any right to interfere — now, at any rate. But I'll 
 do as your father wishes, and go with you to Miss 
 Orr's. You are a lucky girl; and I wonder when 
 Luce will be told that she may get a dress made 
 at Miss Orr's and the bill paid without a grumble? 
 Not till it comes to being her wedding-gown, and 
 she's likely to wait a good while for that — lying 
 here, with Mr. Clayton charging a guinea each for 
 two visits a week." 
 
 Luce began to cry, and to moan that it wasn't 
 her fault that she had hurt her back and cost 
 so much in doctor's fees, and Nulma got indig- 
 nant. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Perryman, it is too bad for you to 
 go and make things harder for poor Luce! Per- 
 haps when Dr. Clayton sends in his bill he'll lump 
 the visits, and they won't be a guinea each, after 
 all; and it's bad enough for Luce to see me going 
 to parties and getting dresses and things when we 
 were to have come out together, without grinding 
 it into her worse, though I'm sure she needn't be 
 sorry about the dinner," Nulma went on. ' You're 
 quite certain there's nothing else, Mrs. Perryman? 
 I'm to mind and eat the fish with my fork and a
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 97 
 
 bit of bread " — in those days fish-knives had not 
 reached Leichardt's Land — " and I'm not to use 
 a knife to the oyster patties; and I'm to be sure 
 and not take cheese. Don't ladies ever eat cheese 
 at dinner-parties, Airs. Perryman? Luckily, I don't 
 like it; but it must be hard on you, for you do enjoy 
 your cheese and porter when you're at home." 
 
 " In my young days," said Mrs. Perryman — 
 " and I was accustomed to lead a visiting life in 
 England, Nulma — it would have been considered 
 as indelicate for a young lady to eat cheese in a low 
 dress as to ride in a hansom-cab. Manners may 
 have changed, and to look at Lady Arthur one 
 would suppose they had; but it's safer to keep to 
 the old rules." 
 
 ' Well, I think I shall remember all that," said 
 Nulma. " And when we get to the door, I'm to 
 hang back and let all the married ladies go first. 
 I should have done that, anyhow." 
 
 " And if there's asparagus, Nulma," continued 
 Mrs. Perryman, in conscientious exhortation, 
 " you'd better let it pass, though it's a delicious 
 vegetable. Asparagus is awkward to manage with 
 one's fork; and though I have seen ladies lift it up 
 by the stalk, I cannot think that looks elegant, 
 and there's always a risk of spilling the butter on 
 one's dress." 
 
 Nulma nodded. 
 
 ' I shall say ' No, thank you,' when the aspara- 
 gus comes round."
 
 9 3 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 " And you'll notice everything, Nulma," said 
 poor Luce, " so that you can describe it to me ex- 
 actly afterwards." 
 
 Nulma nodded again. 
 
 " And if you can get hold of a menu-card, you'll 
 bring it back for me?" said Mrs. Perryman. 
 
 " Yes — yes. And one thing I do promise you, 
 Luce: I shall get hold of some of the sweeties or 
 dried fruits if there are any, and you shall have your 
 share of the dinner to eat while I'm telling you all 
 about it. You won't miss anything, for I'll remem- 
 ber just how everyone is dressed, and how the table 
 is fixed, and all that Lady Arthur says. I do wish 
 you could have seen Lady Arthur." 
 
 "She's lovely, isn't she, Lulu?" 
 
 " Lovely isn't the word. I can't describe her 
 any way; only she seems to have come out of a 
 picture. I'm sure I have seen one like her. Yes; 
 I know. Do you remember Henrietta Maria in 
 Miss Strickland's 'Lives'? Well, she has a long, 
 thin nose, and a sad, queer look in her eyes, like 
 Henrietta Maria." 
 
 " I'm sure I can't see that Henrietta Maria was 
 so very pretty," objected Luce. 
 
 " Not pretty — pretty, that is, like you, Luce, 
 or me, or Miss Degraves; but with a story in her 
 face. That's better than being pretty. Lady Ar- 
 thur has a story in her face." 
 
 " Well, for my part," observed Mrs. Perryman, 
 with asperity — she had not taken to Lady Arthur,
 
 VAN VECHTEN'S LOVE. 
 
 99 
 
 who she thought had slighted her — " I shouldn't 
 care for a daughter of mine to read that kind of 
 story. Lady Arthur's story is one of flirtations and 
 fast goings-on, I feel pretty sure ; and I should say, 
 from all I hear, that the new Chief Justice made 
 up a long chapter of it."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 nulma's first dinner-party. 
 
 Van Vechten's hopes and half-prophecy were 
 not realized, for Nulma was given to the aide-de- 
 camp to take in to dinner, and he, to his annoyance, 
 was entrusted with Miss Degraves. 
 
 Caroline Degraves was a young lady who was 
 usually spoken of as a " pretty girl," though the 
 epithet was hardly appropriate, either to her style 
 of good looks or to her years. Though certainly 
 a " girl " in the general sense, in Australia, where 
 women age rapidly, she would almost have been 
 classed as an old maid had she not managed to 
 retain an extremely youthful appearance, and, 
 though nearly thirty, did not look more than twenty. 
 This was due, perhaps, to a knack she had of put- 
 ting on her clothes effectively, so that, as Mrs. 
 Perryman remarked with approbation, " she always 
 looked stylish." She was tall and dark, with very 
 brilliant eyes, abundant hair, which she dressed 
 fashionably, clear-cut, determined features, and a 
 sweet and especially distinct enunciation, without 
 
 IOO
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. ioi 
 
 a trace of the Australian drawl. As a matter of 
 fact, she was not a genuine Australian, having 
 come out to Sydney when she was six years old. 
 
 From the prominent position her father occu- 
 pied, she held her head high, and none of the offers 
 she had so far received had found favour in her 
 sight. These had been mostly from squatters, more 
 or less well-to-do, but not wealthy enough to as- 
 sure her against the roughnesses of Bush life. She 
 had a horror of being buried in the Bush, and had 
 frankly told her last suitor that she did not intend 
 her happiness to be dependent upon the rise and 
 fall of the wool market or a visitation of pleuro- 
 pneumonia. The last suitor was a squatter from 
 the Northern district, who was also a member of 
 the Legislative Assembly. His name was Justin 
 Blaize, and he presented a great contrast to Miss 
 Degraves, being small, and red, and a little rough 
 in his manners. But he was of good family, which 
 counted for a great deal in the Degraves' eyes; and, 
 moreover, he was limply pertinacious, and would 
 not take " No " for an answer, having for the last 
 three years renewed his addresses regularly each 
 session. He, too, was at the Government House 
 dinner, by the perversity of fate seated at Nulma's 
 other side, and opposite the object of his affections. 
 This was not the fault of Captain Textor, the aide- 
 de-camp, who had made himself duly acquainted 
 with the situation, and would have liked to make 
 everybody happy. But Lady Arthur had had her
 
 I02 NULMA. 
 
 voice in the arrangement of the guests, and had 
 insisted that they should be thus disposed, partly 
 out of a whimsical contrariety, partly because she 
 wanted the Chief Justice beside herself, and a dif- 
 ferent sorting did not well admit of this, and partly 
 because, as she observed, she wanted to begin her 
 deal with a fresh shuffle of the cards. 
 
 Lady Arthur had Mr. Degraves on her right 
 and the Chief Justice on her left hand. To him 
 had been awarded the wife of a prominent member, 
 tlie leader of the Opposition. Politics were repre- 
 sented only by this gentleman, Mr. Blaize, and the 
 Minister of Mines, and the party was considered to 
 be quite unofficial. Mrs. Degraves sat next the 
 Governor, the Opposition lady at his other side, 
 and the rest in due order. 
 
 Nulma was not happy. A big plant of maiden- 
 hair intervened between her and Van Vechten, upon 
 whom she had counted to tell her whether she was 
 behaving properly. She had not realized till then 
 what a stay and support he was in all her difficulties, 
 and reflected vaguely amid the perplexities occa- 
 sioned by her multifarious wine-glasses, forks, and 
 an unintelligible menu, that, on the whole, it might 
 be a nice thing to be safely married to " Uncle 
 Van," and to have secured him as a permanent pro- 
 tector. It was at this moment that, happening to 
 glance towards Lady Arthur, she caught Kenward's 
 gaze fixed upon her, and derived the same warm 
 sense of comfort from it as when Van Vechten did
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. 103 
 
 her a kindness that specially pleased her. No, not 
 the same, for this gave her a thrill of emotion quite 
 different — an emotion, if, indeed, the undefinable 
 feeling could be given so definite a name, hitherto 
 unknown to Nulma; and she returned the smile, 
 and blushed, while her brown eyes shot a gleam 
 which made her look, he thought, more beautiful 
 than any woman he had ever seen. There was a 
 vividness, a fearless and yet confiding innocence, 
 an extraordinary freshness and purity in this girl, 
 such as he had never in his life beheld in any other 
 young girl. And her colouring — the brown eyes, 
 the apricot bloom, the tawny hair, and those abso- 
 lutely childish red lips, parting to show the gleam 
 of white teeth — it was unequalled. How he would 
 like to paint her! He glanced sideways at Margot 
 Keefe's long, narrow face, with its set fascinating 
 smile and its indescribable exotic look, her sinuous 
 throat and dazzlingly white and well-formed neck 
 and shoulders, every curve and expression telling 
 of a woman in the early maturity of beauty and 
 experienced charm, and mentally contrasted her 
 with the young girl. But Margot Keefe was still 
 very dear to him, and dearer because for the last 
 week he had seen little of her, and had been har- 
 assed and perplexed by certain small difficulties of 
 his new position, which under any other circum- 
 stances he would have brought to her, counting 
 upon her sympathy and solace. She, too, had been 
 a little harassed and perplexed by social difficulties,
 
 104 NULMA. 
 
 and she had been tormented by that new guilty 
 consciousness, and by a lately-born terror of her 
 husband; Terror is not too strong a word; she ex- 
 aggerated each fresh phase of feeling after the man- 
 ner of sensitive, somewhat morbidly-inclined and 
 neurotic women, so that with her imagination swift- 
 ly prefigured the worst possible reality. Lord Ar- 
 thur had never before presented himself to her 
 under dramatic conditions, and that suppressed pas- 
 sion in him, which had shown itself again the other 
 day, in spite of his half-promise, in another appeal 
 to her wifely tenderness, and in more hints of jeal- 
 ousy that might spur him to an undreamed-of vio- 
 lence, filled her with frightened distrust of every- 
 thing round her. She suspected a spy in the orderly 
 who had followed them upon the only occasion 
 when she had ridden with the Chief Justice, and in 
 Lord Arthur's most careless question found a de- 
 sire to entrap her. He had been dull and morose, 
 and here she saw a sign of vengeance brooding. 
 And in the ten days which had elapsed since that 
 last scene, she had got to hate her husband with 
 an intensity that seemed to deepen in proportion 
 as her intercourse with Outram Kenward dwindled 
 into a conventional interchange of civilities, for she 
 had been afraid to see him alone in her own sitting- 
 room. The few times when he had called and she 
 had been talking to him in the drawing-room, Lord 
 Arthur had by accident or design strolled in upon 
 them, and had lingered round, preventing any sort
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. IQ 5 
 
 of unembarrassed conversation. She was in an odd 
 reckless mood, and it was when she noticed how 
 Kenward looked at Nulma, and how Lord Arthur's 
 eyes seemed constantly bent towards her end of the 
 table, that a desperate scheme dawned upon her 
 - — a scheme for testing Kenward's fidelity, and for 
 dispelling any suspicions that might lurk in Lord 
 Arthur's mind. To be sure, the scheme involved 
 an exquisite self-torture, but she was in the mood 
 to find a morbid pleasure even in torturing herself. 
 She said in a low voice to Kenward: 
 
 ' That little girl is quite astonishingly pretty. 
 The painters at home would rave about her colour- 
 ing. Doesn't it make you want to get out your 
 tubes and brushes and engage her as a model? " 
 
 " I am afraid our good friend the Minister of 
 Mines, who objects to her appearing unveiled in 
 Victoria Street, would hardly consent to hire her 
 out at eighteenpence an hour," replied Kenward 
 lightly. " I confess, however, to the temptation; 
 but I must drop all that kind of dilettantism now." 
 
 " You'd have been a very good artist if you had 
 had to earn your living that way," she said in a tone 
 of impartial criticism. " I don't see why you should 
 give it up. The last Chief Justice, I learn, occupied 
 his hours of leisure in catching butterflies for a col- 
 lection which they have put in the museum. I don't 
 see why you shouldn't employ yours in laying the 
 foundation of a Leichardt's Land Art Gallery." 
 
 ' With your portrait as a pendant to Lady Ran-
 
 io 6 NULMA. 
 
 dal's, which might be removed from the waiting- 
 room of the Girls' Industrial College." 
 
 " No, thank you. I don't mean to follow in 
 Lady Randal's footsteps. , My patronage of the 
 (iirls' Industrial College will be purely nominal. 
 I shall strike upon a more original plan of philan- 
 thropy. But seriously," she went on, " I wish you 
 would make a study of Nulma Goodeve — for me. 
 You can present the Minister of Mines with the 
 original, and do me a replica." 
 
 " I think there would be some difficulties in the 
 way," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, I'll manage it for you; we'll ask her here 
 and arrange a studio. A birthday present to the 
 father it should be. I'm going to make friends 
 with the child. Don't you think I shall be improved 
 by companionship with such youthful innocence?" 
 
 He looked at her silently, and turned his head 
 away without speaking. Presently he said, during 
 a louder buzz round them: 
 
 " I don't think you are quite yourself to-night, 
 somehow. And how is it that I have seen nothing 
 of you for such ages? When may I come?" 
 
 " Oh, come to luncheon some day," she said 
 aloud, smiling conventionally. " I must think what 
 we are doing. Will Tuesday suit you? I'll ask 
 Miss Goodeve, and lay the first stone of our friend- 
 ship," she added in a lower tone. 
 
 " I would rather " he began; and then there 
 
 was a sudden lull, and Mr. Degraves turned inter-
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 IO7 
 
 rogatively to Lady Arthur with a view to a fresh 
 start in eonversation. 
 
 ' Thank you ; I shall be delighted," said Ken- 
 ward, also conventionally; and he, too, applied him- 
 self to his legitimate partner. 
 
 Nulma's two neighbours seemed slightly pre- 
 occupied. Mr. Blaize was naturally a good deal 
 absorbed in his efforts to catch glimpses of Miss 
 Degraves through the fronds of maidenhair, and to 
 overhear fragments of her conversation with Mr. 
 Van Vechten. He was not well up in Leichardt's 
 Town gossip, and could never get over an unrea- 
 soning jealousy of the man whom it was currently 
 known Lady Randal had designed for her friend. 
 Then, he had never met Nulma before, and though, 
 like everybody else, he was struck by her beauty, 
 he was shy, and the young girl did not help him 
 along. 
 
 Captain Textor admired the Australian girl 
 enormously also, but was not at liberty to indulge 
 in such admirations too freely, his heart being en- 
 gaged in England. Moreover, he took his duties 
 as aide-de-camp very seriously, and was all the time 
 eager to glean information from the talk around 
 which might help him in steering safely through 
 social quicksands. Already there was discussion 
 about the invitations to the Birthday ball, many 
 people having been left out who at the beginning 
 of the Randals' reign were not naturally included 
 
 in the list, but who had risen in the world since, 
 
 8
 
 IOS NULMA. 
 
 and would now be greatly aggrieved were they not 
 bidden. Captain Textor had the matter terribly 
 on his mind. He was tall, thin, well-bred-looking, 
 but rather finnikin, with a beautiful moustache and 
 easy manners. He had plenty of small-talk, but it 
 was not of the kind Nulma understood, and when 
 he discoursed upon the possibilities of getting up 
 a cotillon at the ball, taking it for granted that she 
 knew all about cotillons and such-like, she showed 
 her ignorance of the things that be so plainly that 
 before long his interest flagged, and, for all her 
 prettiness, he said to himself that she was dull, 
 badly dressed, and " out of it." 
 
 In this judgment as regards her dress, he showed 
 himself to be a commonplace young man of fash- 
 ion, whose womankind must be attired according 
 to the latest Paris model, or, in his sense, are not 
 dressed at all. Captain Textor was an authority 
 on women's gowns, and could tell one exactly how 
 much stuff would be required for a fashionable 
 skirt, and who was the London tailor or milliner 
 who would turn a lady out properly. Nulma was 
 not at all properly turned out, in his estimation. 
 The prohibition on " jangles and frippery " had, 
 happily, crippled the exuberance of Miss Orr's 
 fancy, and had resulted in somewhat severe folds 
 of drapery which, under the circumstances, was 
 the best possible result that could have been 
 achieved. So, at any rate, thought those better 
 judges, Mr. Ken ward and Lady Arthur, the first
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 109 
 
 with keen artistic satisfaction, the last with a pang 
 of envy and mortification. 
 
 As Nulma sat silent or monosyllabic, seeing 
 clearly that she did not come up to Captain Tex- 
 tor's standard, and feeling a want of sympathy on 
 the part of her two neighbours, she reflected that 
 she would not, after all, have anything very excit- 
 ing to tell at Wirrib about the dinner, and be- 
 thought herself of the menu for Mrs. Perryman, 
 which she had no difficulty in abstracting, and of 
 her promise to take back some sweetmeats for 
 Luce. There were plenty of French bonbons, 
 chocolates, and other goodies on the table, and 
 Nulma heaped her plate liberally and nibbled slowly 
 at one or two, causing Captain Textor to wonder 
 how she would get through the supply before Lady 
 Arthur's signal. 
 
 Lady Arthur caught Mrs. Degraves' eye with- 
 out any elaborate preparation. Captain Textor's 
 head was turned, and Nulma saw her opportunity, 
 and, as she rose, swept the plateful of bonbons into 
 her handkerchief, which she crumpled together 
 under her fan. She would have made her exit com- 
 posedly had she not in her nervousness managed, 
 as she turned, to catch the toe of one shoe on the 
 heel of the other, so that the shoe was hopelessly 
 launched some distance under the table. Nulma 
 sat down again, and tried to fish it out, but in vain, 
 and her agonized whisper across the table, " Uncle 
 Van, my shoe! please get it for me," fell on un-
 
 IIO NULMA. • 
 
 heeding - ears, for Mr. Van Vechten was in the act 
 of pushing back Miss Degraves' chair, so that she 
 might pass in the wake of her mother. 
 
 " Have you dropped anything? Can I look for 
 you? Your fan — your gloves? No, I see they're 
 all right," said Captain Textor, pushing back Nul- 
 ma's chair also; and the girl, too shy to confess 
 that she had lost her shoe, hobbled out, the last 
 of the party of ladies, red, ashamed, but keeping 
 presence of mind enough to thrust the handker- 
 chief with Luce's bonbons into her pocket before 
 she took her seat close by the door in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 No one noticed her mishap. The first fire of 
 the season had been lighted — it was the middle of 
 April — and the ladies were fluttering round it, and 
 Mrs. Degraves was complimenting Lady Arthur 
 upon the way in which she had placed the sofa at 
 an angle with the chimney, and upon having ban- 
 ished the big central ottoman to a remote distance 
 from the chandelier. 
 
 " I wish I could banish the chandelier, too," 
 said Lady Arthur, " though, I suppose, it is 
 high treason to say so, if Lady Randal liked it 
 there." 
 
 ' Dear Lady Randal ! " murmured Mrs. De- 
 graves. ' We had only one fault to find with her. 
 She did not understand how to make a room cosy. 
 But I suppose the Queen can't utter treason against 
 herself, Lady Arthur; and the Governor should
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. m 
 
 be in the same position in Government House, 
 shouldn't he? " 
 
 " But, then, I am not the Governor," replied 
 Lady Arthur, " though he is good enough to let 
 me have my own way with the chairs and tables. 
 And as to his being a despot in his own colony — 
 well, I wonder what the Ministers would say if the 
 Governor ordered the Botanical Gardens to be cut 
 down and replanted, or insisted on a domiciliary 
 inspection of all the houses, and the measuring out 
 of the water-supply to each. That was what he 
 had to do in Farnesia, which is a Crown colony, 
 you know, when the reservoir threatened to dry 
 up." 
 
 " I am afraid that his Excellency will find a 
 difference between a Crown colony and a Consti- 
 tutional Government," said the wife of the Leader 
 of the Opposition, who was a sharp, thin-lipped 
 lady, priding herself upon a tempered Jacobinism 
 as regards political principles. " A Constitution 
 does not stand being interfered with." 
 
 " I am sure that the Governor found that out 
 at Farnesia, though it was a Crown colony," said 
 Lady Arthur, laughing — " in the personal sense, I 
 mean. His constitution hasn't got over being con- 
 fined within a space of eleven square miles and liv- 
 ing according to the tender mercies of a native 
 cook. Oh, Miss Goodeve, you are all out in the 
 cold. Won't you come and drink your coffee near 
 the fire?"
 
 I I2 NULMA. 
 
 The butler had just come in with the coffee-pot, 
 and the footman had nearly brushed over Nuhna 
 as she sat forlorn, her unshod foot tucked well 
 under her skirt. She had decided to take the butler 
 into her confidence, since he looked like a family 
 man, but was picturing her shoe handed across the 
 room to her on a silver salver, and wondering how 
 she could bear the disgrace if it should happen be- 
 fore the gentlemen; and then it flashed across her 
 that she might write a little note and ask the butler 
 to deliver it to Van Vechten, who would find her 
 shoe and bring it to her unobserved. 
 
 " No; you really mustn't stop there in the cold," 
 persisted Lady Arthur, and Nuhna was obliged to 
 get up and limp forward. 
 
 "Why, you are lame!" cried Lady Arthur. 
 " What has happened? " 
 
 " I have lost my shoe; it fell off under the 
 table," proclaimed Nulma, with the boldness of des- 
 peration, putting out a very slender stockinged foot. 
 "Please, could it be brought to me?" 
 
 Miss Degraves laughed a little ill-naturedly, but 
 Lady Arthur took the occurrence quite as a natural 
 thing to have happened at a dinner-party. 
 
 " Of course. Carson, you will have Miss Good- 
 eve's shoe found as soon as the gentlemen have left 
 the table, and bring it to her, please, in the boudoir. 
 My dear child, what it is to have a Cinderella foot, 
 from which shoes drop off incontinently! Do see 
 how tiny it is; and Miss Goodeve is taller even than
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 113 
 
 you or I, Miss Degraves! I am glad, anyhow, that 
 we have not to go through the ordeal of trying on 
 the slipper. Certainly none of us would get the 
 Prince." 
 
 " Which is the Prince? " asked Miss Degraves in 
 her sweet incisive voice, as she put up her long- 
 handled eyeglass and inspected Nulma, who had 
 not yet been introduced to her. 
 
 " Surely you must know a great deal better than 
 I," said Lady Arthur, her tone just suggesting play- 
 ful malice. " I am a stranger in Leichardt's Land. 
 I can't think of anyone answering to the description 
 but Mr. Van Vechten. They call him the merchant 
 Prince here, don't they?" 
 
 Miss Degraves was silenced; with a little laugh 
 she turned away. 
 
 "How do you do, my dear?" said Mrs. De- 
 graves, holding out her hand to Nulma. ; ' I did not 
 recognise you at first, not expecting to meet you 
 at a grown-up party. It's your first, isn't it? and 
 you must feel a little shy, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Nulma; "but I shan't mind 
 when I have got back my shoe." 
 
 " Come and sit by me," Mrs. Degraves went 
 on; "and tell me who is going to chaperon you 
 at the Birthnight ball?" 
 
 " No, no! " exclaimed Lady Arthur. " Poor 
 child! she shall not be made to blush before every- 
 one when Carson retrieves the slipper. Come into 
 the little room, my dear; I want to show you a por-
 
 ii 4 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 trait which was made of me, by a gentleman whom 
 you know." 
 
 She put her arm within Nulma's, and swept her 
 along- through a half-curtained archway as the gen- 
 tlemen's voices sounded from the hall. 
 
 ' The men are coming back, and you will have 
 your shoe in a moment. Tell me, what do you 
 think of it?" 
 
 She pointed to a kit-cat portrait of herself in 
 oils which stood upon a draped easel near the door- 
 way. The work had evidently been a labour of 
 love, and Lady Arthur's difficult, somewhat feline 
 kind of charm had been happily caught and de- 
 picted. Nulma looked from the portrait to the 
 original and back again. Lady Arthur seemed 
 younger in the picture, more tender and more con- 
 tented. There was something in the painted smile 
 which the living smile lacked. Nevertheless, it was 
 an admirable likeness. 
 
 "Well?" asked Lady Arthur. 
 ' I think it is very beautiful," answered Nulma 
 slowly, " and it is very like you." 
 
 ' It was Mr. Kenward who painted it, your 
 new Chief Justice. We are very old friends, and 
 he did that — oh, ever so long ago. Now, dear 
 child, I'm going to tell you why I wanted you to 
 see it, and to ask a favour of you at the same 
 time." 
 
 "A favour!" Nulma repeated. 
 
 " It's this way. Mr. Kenward has a great de-
 
 NULMA'S FIRST DINNERPARTY. n j 
 
 sire to paint you. Of course the picture would be 
 your own — to give to your father if you pleased, and 
 if he liked it; to destroy if he did not like it." 
 
 " I think that would be impossible," said Nulma. 
 " But I can't imagine why Mr. Keriward should 
 want to paint me." 
 
 " Hasn't anyone ever told you that your colour- 
 ing is just what artists dream about, and hardly ever 
 come across in real life. Do me an immense kind- 
 ness — for with your permission I am promised a 
 small replica — and allow Mr. Kenward to make 
 your picture." 
 
 " Why, of course I should be very glad," an- 
 swered Nulma. ' Why should I not? It is Mr. 
 Kenward and you, too, that are doing me the kind- 
 ness — and daddy as well. But if I give dad the pic- 
 ture, there will be nothing for Mr. Kenward to 
 make up to him for his trouble." 
 
 Lady Arthur did not answer. She was looking 
 at Nulma in a way that puzzled and rather embar- 
 rassed the young girl. Suddenly she said: 
 
 " Do you know, child, that you ought to be one 
 of the very happiest creatures on earth. You are 
 young; you are beautiful; you are utterly free. 
 Your whole life is before you to do what you choose 
 with. I envy you; you have got what I never had 
 — never, never." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Arthur, how is it possible that I 
 can be as beautiful as you are! And what is my 
 life in comparison with yours! It seems to me
 
 II( 3 NULMA. 
 
 thai you have everything 1 , and I nothing - . How 
 can it be that yon envy me?" 
 
 All Nulma's shyness went away as she replied, 
 with eager, surprised eyes fastened upon Lady Ar- 
 thur's face. A genuine ring of passion and regret 
 in the elder woman's voice stirred the girl intensely. 
 It seemed an echoing note from that far world of 
 romance about which she was always, more or less 
 consciously, dreaming. 
 
 " You will understand that better when you are 
 as old as I am," returned Lady Arthur with a laugh. 
 " Here is Carson with your shoe." 
 
 The butler entered by an inner door, bearing 
 Nulma's shoe, as she had pictured it, upon a silver 
 salver, which he discreetly shaded with his other 
 
 arm. 
 
 "There; now you are quite respectable again; 
 and you have a very pretty foot, and need not have 
 been ashamed to exhibit it. I am going to tell Mr. 
 Kenward that he can come and fix a day for the 
 first sitting ; and I shall ask your father if he will let 
 you lunch with me next Tuesday. Will you come? " 
 
 Nulma accepted the invitation, partly flattered, 
 partly jarred by a certain note of patronage in Lady 
 Arthur's manner, and at the moment peculiarly 
 sensible of that vague mingling of antipathy and 
 fascination which Lady Arthur had from the first 
 produced in her. She was standing bewilderedly 
 before the picture when Kenward, entering from 
 the larger room, approached her.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 " Do you think I am good enough?" he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Good enough? " 
 
 " Why, to have the honour of painting your por- 
 trait? Lady Arthur tells me that you consent. 
 Thank you immensely." 
 
 " If your picture of me is only a quarter as 
 splendid as this one, I shall be thanking you all 
 the time instead," said Nulma bluntly. " I won- 
 der " she stopped. 
 
 'What was it you were going to say?" 
 
 " Oh, a stupid thing — I was only wondering 
 why you should make so much fuss about doing 
 my picture." 
 
 ' I think I shall leave Lady Arthur to explain 
 that," he answered. " Perhaps she has already told 
 ' you why I am so anxious to make a sketch of you. 
 Has she?" 
 
 ' Lady Arthur said that you wanted to paint 
 me because — oh, well, because you thought my 
 colouring out of the common," said Nulma with un- 
 
 117
 
 IlS NULMA. 
 
 blushing candour. ' But there must be so many 
 girls in England ever so much better to paint than 
 1 am." 
 
 " Only we are not in England, you see. And 
 
 so," he went on, " admiration is no novelty to you." 
 
 There was a shade of disappointment in his tone. 
 
 ' No doubt you have often been told that you are 
 
 —excuse my putting it bluntly — very lovely." 
 
 Nulma seemed to reflect. 
 
 ' No, not often; hardly at all. Without count- 
 ing Lady Arthur this evening, I don't think any- 
 one ever in the world told me so — except Uncle 
 Van." 
 
 "Uncle Van!" 
 
 " I mean Mr. Van Vechten." 
 
 " Oh! You seem, anyhow, to have given him 
 the right of plain speaking. But — Mr. Van Vech- 
 ten is no relation to you. Why do you call him 
 Uncle Van?" 
 
 ;< I don't know. Of course he's no relation; but 
 he's the best friend I have in the world." 
 
 " Miss Goodeve, would it be a great imperti- 
 nence if I were to ask if you are going to marry 
 Mr. Van Vechten?" 
 
 ' He won't give me the chance," said Nulma. 
 " He thinks I am too young yet to know my own 
 mind." 
 
 ' That is very considerate of him. But no doubt 
 before very long he will put the question seriously." 
 
 " No," replied Nulma. " I am quite sure that
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 II 9 
 
 he will never ask me. I am to ask him instead. 
 He is willing to marry me whenever I tell him that 
 is what I wish. It is very devoted of him." 
 
 " Oh, the devotion! — that's easily taken for 
 granted. Well, I suppose one should admit that 
 the distinction is a magnanimous one." 
 
 " Don't let us talk about Uncle Van," said Nul- 
 ma, turning away from the picture. " There are 
 so many other things." 
 
 Kenward gave a short laugh. He found some- 
 thing rather humorous in the situation; and the 
 thought glanced across his mind that a man very 
 much in love with Nulma need not entertain any 
 jealous animosity towards Mr. Van Vechten. He 
 pushed forward a low chair which stood in the 
 shadow of the door-curtain and of a tree-fern in a 
 green tub. 
 
 "Won't you sit here?" 
 
 Nulma sat down without hesitation. She did 
 not make the conventional objection that she was 
 staying too long away from the rest of the party; 
 and of this he was glad, though, to be sure, it was 
 not to be expected that the owner of that face would 
 put forth those commonplace airs and affectations 
 which seem natural to the ordinary newly-fledged 
 miss. As for Nulma, the fortunate recovery of her 
 shoe had quite relieved her from social embarrass- 
 ments; she was perfectly happy talking to the Chief 
 Justice, and did not trouble herself at all as to what 
 the people in the next room might be thinking of
 
 120 NULMA. 
 
 her. The babble of their talk floated in through 
 the half-drawn curtains, and now and then words, 
 phrases, and tones detached themselves from the 
 general confusion of sound. Through all Kenward 
 was conscious of the hovering presence of Lady 
 Arthur, and of frequent darting glances in his di- 
 rection from between her narrowed lids, as she con- 
 versed painstakingly with the Leader of the Op- 
 position, and did her duty by the ladies neglected 
 of mankind. Somehow she seemed to contrive that 
 her position should command that of Nulma and 
 Kenward, and it was with a vague instinct of es- 
 cape that he had put Nulma in the chair behind 
 the tree-fern, and now placed himself near her, also 
 in shadow. 
 
 ' I quite agree with you,'' he said, " that there 
 are things and people in the world more interest- 
 ing than your friend Mr. Van Vechten. Let us talk 
 about one of them instead— as you suggest." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't mean that," cried the girl, smitten 
 with compunction. ' There's no one anywhere so 
 good as Uncle Van." 
 
 ' Very likely. But some good people are more 
 attractive as subjects of conversation than other 
 good people, though, as far as moral worth goes, 
 they may be equal. For example, Miss Goodeve, 
 I should be more interested in talking to you of 
 yourself than of Mr. Van Vechten. And there's 
 a question I am longing to ask you, if you don't 
 mind."
 
 CONFIDENCES. I 2 1 
 
 " I shan't mind. What is it? " 
 
 ' Where did you get your pretty, uncommon 
 name — Nulma? It sounds Eastern. Nulma, Nour- 
 mahal — I could think of others like it. But I've 
 never heard yours before. Please tell me about 
 your name." 
 
 " It's the Blacks' word for a snake," she an- 
 swered; "and I was called Nulma because of a ter- 
 ribly sad thing which happened when I was a tiny 
 baby." 
 
 " May I hear, or would it be too painful?" 
 
 " Oh no; I was only a few days old. Of course, 
 I can't feel about it as daddy does. It's because of 
 that I've no mother, and no brother nor sister. 
 They all died then." 
 
 : ' Mother, brother, and sister," he repeated; 
 " they could not all have been killed by a snake- 
 bite. How can that be?" 
 
 " My baby brother and sister died from the bite 
 of a snake. I'll tell you." Nulma folded her hands 
 with the responsible air of one about to make a 
 narration, and he leaned a little closer to her. " You 
 have never been out West," she said. " Of course 
 not yet. But perhaps you will go some day, and 
 then you'll see the great, great plains, and the briga- 
 low scrubs, and the carriers' drays. Daddy was a 
 carrier out West before he found the Goodeve Con- 
 solation Reef and got rich. He was only a working 
 man, you know." 
 
 " No, I did not know."
 
 I2 2 NULMA. 
 
 " We don't mind in the least," said Nulma, 
 with a little drawing hack of her hody which 
 amused him, as betraying her secret thought ; 
 " though I have no doubt the Degraves and other 
 people look down upon us for it." 
 
 ' Isn't that an unwarranted assumption, rather?" 
 
 " Well, we can't all be English, and — like Lady 
 Arthur Keefe," Nulma exclaimed. 
 
 ' No, of course; there's no reason why you 
 should; and, besides, you are much better as you 
 are." 
 
 " Oh, no, no! I'd like to be like that. Mr. Ken- 
 ward, I wasn't telling the truth," she cried in a 
 burst of candour. " I do mind. It's mean of me to 
 pretend that I don't. Not the being a carrier's 
 daughter; and if daddy could be changed into a 
 great English lord to-morrow, I would not have 
 it done. I wouldn't have him a bit different. But I 
 do mind being outside all the things that are Eng- 
 lish and beautiful and refined. Though ' plenty 
 poor cobra belonging to me,' as the Blacks say;" 
 and she touched her forehead with a laugh, " and 
 though I am dreadfully badly educated, I do read 
 about those English sort of things." 
 
 "Ah, in novels, I suppose?" 
 ' Yes. Though dad doesn't much care about 
 my reading novels, or Uncle Van either; but Luce 
 Perryman lends them to me. Her mother sub- 
 scribes to the library in Victoria Street. Oh, I'd 
 give anything to go to England, so that I might
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 123 
 
 see the places they describe! And I'm always wish- 
 ing that I could meet the people in real life, the 
 people who belong to books." 
 
 " Perhaps you wouldn't recognize them," said 
 Kenward dryly; " or if you did, you wouldn't 
 find them as delightful as you imagine them to 
 be." 
 
 ' Yes, I should. I recognised Lady Arthur. 
 She comes out of a book " 
 
 "And you find her delightful?" 
 
 Nulma hesitated. 
 
 " I don't know. She is strange — she is very 
 kind. She says things that no one else ever said; 
 she is just a bit of that world to which I don't be- 
 long. Can you understand? " 
 
 ' Yes, I think I understand. But you exagger- 
 ate the importance of that world, and your own 
 position towards it." 
 
 " Well, never mind." 
 
 ' Yes ; never mind. Now, tell me more of those 
 early days; I can't describe to you how deeply it 
 all interests me." 
 
 ' Well," she began again, " daddy was a car- 
 rier. He used to carry wool from the stations to 
 Port Victoria, and take back rations. Often he 
 would be weeks on the road — sometimes stopped 
 for days in one place. There would be floods, or 
 the bullocks would knock up, and he'd have to spell 
 them a bit. There was no other house for us but 
 the bullock dray. Mr. Kenward, I was born under 
 9
 
 I2 4 
 
 NILMA. 
 
 a bullock dray;" and she gave him one of her 
 quick, deerlike looks. 
 
 " Were you, really? That is very curious. Go 
 on, Miss Nulma." 
 
 " I don't remember living on the bullock dray 
 myself; but I've seen them out West, when I was 
 eight or nine, coming in — whole strings of them. 
 Such huge things, loaded ever so high with bales 
 of wool, quite flat on the top, with a sort of tilt, 
 and a mattress laid under it, where the wife and 
 children would sit. They would have a ladder to 
 go up and down by. Often there would be two 
 or three goats behind the dray, to give milk for the 
 babies. At night, when they camped, the mattresses 
 would be brought down and laid under the dray, 
 and that's where the family would sleep." 
 
 Kenward looked at this very child of Nature 
 wondering, as he pictured her cradled in a bullock 
 dray, her babyhood passed on the top of the wool- 
 bales, with only a sheet of canvas to shut out the 
 high heavens. He felt an odd glow of pleasure in 
 the fact that she was — as she was. Nulma went 
 on, encouraged by the eagerness in his eyes: 
 
 " We were camping at a place where there was 
 a waterhole, spelling the bullocks, and waiting for 
 my mother to get strong. I was just the tiniest 
 thing then, you know. Daddy fixed the mattress 
 on the ground under the dray, and spread blankets 
 at one end for the other little boy and girl. He 
 has told me all about it, poor dad ! My mother must
 
 CONFIDENCES. 1 25 
 
 have been a very nice woman, Mr. Kenward, I've 
 often thought, for him to be so devoted to her 
 memory." 
 
 " I am quite certain she must have been that," 
 said the Chief Justice decidedly. 
 
 " The first night daddy and mother were wak- 
 ened up by a sort of cry from the little boy. Daddy 
 went to take it up, they cuddled it, and the little 
 fellow got quite quiet and drowsy, and very soon 
 died. Did you know, Mr. Kenward, that a snake's 
 bite gives you an electric-shock sort of pain — just 
 for a minute? " 
 
 " No; I had never heard." 
 
 " Yes. Daddy was bitten once, he told me." 
 
 " A snake had bitten the poor little chap?" said 
 Kenward. 
 
 "Yes; but they did not know it then. They 
 saw nothing — never thought of its being a snake. 
 Daddy said they fancied he had eaten some poison- 
 ous berries that grew about there. Well, next night 
 exactly the same thing happened, and the little girl 
 died. Then, as daddy moved the blankets, he saw 
 a black snake, and he found that he had laid the 
 children to sleep exactly over a snake's hole." 
 
 "Good God!" ejaculated Kenward. "And 
 your poor mother?" 
 
 ' Mother went quite out of her mind, daddy 
 said. She got queer fancies — all about snakes, fairy 
 stories she had read, and Blacks' superstitions 
 mixed up. Did I tell you we had a half-caste
 
 126 NULMA. 
 
 woman, with a picaninny, for a sort of nurse? Dad 
 saved her from the camp when they were going to 
 knock her over the head with a nulla-nulla. She 
 used to talk Blacks' language to the children. 
 Daddy told me mother kept repeating things she 
 had heard the gin say, and she would point to 
 me, and call out, ' Nulma, Nulma! ' She made dad 
 get a Prayer-Book and a billyful of water, and 
 christen me himself — out there in the Bush. She 
 had a superstitious notion that if I was called Nul- 
 ma snakes would not touch me. And it preyed 
 upon her that the hahy-girl had died unbaptized; 
 that's how it is." 
 
 Nulma stopped. 
 
 "And your mother died?" said Kenward. 
 'Yes; on the top of the bullock dray. She 
 would insist on being lifted up there; and that's 
 where she died, lying on the wool-bales. She's 
 buried in the Bush with the two children. Dad 
 had the place railed in, and a stone put. I was 
 christened properly after that — at Mr. Latham's 
 station. He was my godfather, and Mrs. Latham 
 and the storekeeper's wife were my two godmoth- 
 ers. Of course, dad had to keep the name my 
 mother chose; and so I am Nulma. After all, it is 
 not an ugly name, is it, Mr. Kenward?" 
 
 " I think it is a beautiful name," he answered. 
 
 " But I wish it didn't mean just what it does. 
 A snake — horrible! How I loathe the sight of a 
 snake! Try to forget that 'Nulma' means that,
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 127 
 
 or you'll be associating me always with something 
 horrible." 
 
 " I'll remember always that ' Nulma ' means — 
 you," said Kenward; "and then the word can only 
 bring me a most sweet and poetic association." 
 
 " But you can't associate me with myself," said 
 the girl, laughing; " that would be nonsense. Think 
 of something Australian and poetic, and imagine 
 that it is called Nulma." 
 
 Kenward got up, looked round the room, and 
 seemed to consider. Nulma watched him with a 
 certain child-like curiosity and pleasure. He took 
 a bit of stephanotis out of a vase and examined it, 
 then put it back again. 
 
 ' Too exotic and suggestive," he murmured. 
 "Ah, I have it!" He turned to Nulma. "When 
 does your own wattle come into bloom?" 
 
 " At the end of August or beginning of Sep- 
 tember. Ever so long yet." 
 
 Kenward attacked another vase, in which was 
 an abnormal second bloom — a trailing bough of 
 Banksia roses. He broke off a spray of half-opened 
 buds. 
 
 " I think this will do — for the present. It is 
 sweet, and if not pure Australian, it is, anyhow, 
 poetic. Miss Nulma, in August, with your permis- 
 sion, I will solemnly rechristen the wattle, which I 
 shall henceforth regard as emblematic of you. In 
 the meantime, allow me to offer you this as the near- 
 est thing suitable."
 
 128 NULMA. 
 
 She took the spray of roses, twisted it, smelt 
 it, and stuck it into the belt of her frock. 
 
 ' How clever of you ! I always call the wattle 
 my flower, for I generally gather the first bit that's 
 out on my birthday— the eighteenth of August. I 
 shall be eighteen on the eighteenth of August." 
 
 'The eighteenth of August; I shall not for- 
 get." 
 
 ' How did you come to know anything about 
 our wattle? " she asked. 
 
 ' They call it mimosa on the shores of the 
 Mediterranean," he answered. " But it's genuine 
 Australian, for all that." 
 
 He became aware of a flutter of departure in the 
 next room. Mrs. Degraves was saying good-night, 
 and Lady Arthur was now standing near the cur- 
 tains; so was Mr. Van Vechten. Just then Mr. 
 Goodeve's burly form approached. 
 
 " Girlie," he said, " we've got to be going." The 
 portrait attracted him as he spoke. " That's good! " 
 he exclaimed; "it's uncommonly like." 
 
 Nulma burst into a laugh. 
 
 ' Dad, would you care to have a portrait of me 
 painted by the person who painted that?" 
 
 ' Why, yes," said James Goodeve; " I shouldn't 
 mind, if the price was any way reasonable. I sup- 
 pose it's by one of the swell chaps in England?" 
 
 He turned to Kenward. 
 
 "Oh no," said Kenward; "quite an unknown 
 artist — an amateur of no pretensions whatever."
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 I29 
 
 ' Well," said Goodeve, peering into the pic- 
 ture, " I don't call myself a judge of paintings, see- 
 ing that I've had no opportunity of studying them 
 — it isn't likely I should be; but I know a good 
 likeness, and I will say that's the very image of 
 Lady Arthur. A little flattering, eh?" — in an un- 
 dertone — " but I dare say she was younger when 
 that was done. What's the mischief, missie?" 
 
 " Nothing, dad." Nulma stifled another laugh. 
 " Come along; I'm ready." 
 
 Kenward fell back. James Goodeve held out 
 his red hand to his hostess, who had come near the 
 group. 
 
 ' We'll say good-night, Lady Arthur, and — 
 I've had a very pleasant evening. Thank you for 
 being kind to my girl here." 
 
 " I'm so glad, Mr. Goodeve. You won't forget 
 that you've promised your daughter to me for next 
 Tuesday. I'm delighted that you like my portrait. 
 I think the Governor's over there talking to Mr. 
 Degraves and my husband." 
 
 Captain Textor, who had been hovering round, 
 opening doors and conducting ladies to their wraps, 
 made a movement to pilot them towards the Gov- 
 ernor, who came forward as they approached. 
 Nulma felt a little frightened of Colonel Burnside, 
 who looked stiff, old and unapproachable. His se- 
 vere courtesy awed her. In her nervousness she 
 forgot Luce's bonbons, fumbled for her gloves, 
 pulled out her pocket-handkerchief, and started
 
 130 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 back with a cry of dismay — as the fondants and 
 chocolates rained upon the carpet. The Governor 
 peered down through his eyeglass, Captain Textor 
 stooped and picked up the gloves, but left the bon- 
 bons, and Nulma, first pink, then pale, in her con- 
 fusion, as unconsciously she turned an appealing 
 glance to her saviour, Van Vechten, met Kenward's 
 amused eyes, and shrank as if a blow had been dealt 
 her. She did not mind the others so much, but 
 that he should laugh at her — should look upon her 
 as a greedy schoolgirl, discovered in a vulgar theft 
 upon the dinner-table! Her lips trembled. She 
 looked as though she were going to burst into tears. 
 
 4 Why, girlie," said her father, " you shouldn't 
 steal the lollies, you know. Mrs. Perryman will 
 call that pretty manners. She is only a baby, your 
 Excellency, and babies can't resist lollipops." 
 
 ' They weren't for myself," cried Nulma. " Oh, 
 don't think that I should do it for myself; but I 
 promised poor Luce. She has hurt her back, and 
 she can't come out now at the May ball, and she 
 does so like chocolate creams, and I said I would 
 bring her some from my first dinner-party. It's 
 so hard for Luce to be lying there, seeing me 
 dressed up and having fun, and to get nothing her- 
 self." 
 
 " Luce," said the Governor, a little perplexed 
 by the whole scene. " Your sister, Miss Goodeve, 
 who has had an accident? I am sincerely sorry." 
 
 " Not her sister, your Excellency. Little Luce
 
 CONFIDENCES. 13I 
 
 Perryman — daughter of our neighbour, Perryman, 
 of the Alines Department — a great friend of my 
 girlie's," said James Goodeve. " Never mind the 
 lollipops, Nulma. His Excellency will excuse you, 
 I'm certain. So say good-night." 
 
 ' Your kind thought for your sick friend does 
 you infinite credit, my dear young lady," said the 
 Governor, bowing over Nulma's hand with stately 
 courtesy. ; ' Pray give her my compliments, and 
 tell her how much I regret her accident; and you 
 must take her some chocolate-creams from me. 
 Textor, you'll see about it." 
 
 " Certainly, sir." And Captain Textor rang the 
 bell, and offered Nulma his arm; and Lady Arthur 
 came up and laughed kindly, and sent her regards 
 to sick Luce, and they all covered poor Nulma's 
 retreat in the kindest way possible, Captain Textor 
 at the last moment rushing down the steps to lay 
 a little beribboned box by Nulma's side in the 
 jingle which was to take the father and daughter 
 back to the Bunyas. 
 
 ' With the Governor's compliments — straight 
 from Paris," he said, laughing. " Good-night, Miss 
 Goodeve." 
 
 ' Well, Nulma, so you've gone and done it 
 now," said James Goodeve, with his gruff, tender 
 laugh. " No; it's quite clear that my girl must 
 have her manners polished a little better before she 
 goes to another dinner-party at Government 
 House."
 
 I32 NULMA. 
 
 " Oh, dad, it was dreadful! First I lost my shoe 
 under the table, and the butler brought it in on a 
 silver tray. Then to drop Luce's sweets on the 
 floor, and be found out like that! How shall I ever 
 face them again? " 
 
 James Goodeve roared with laughter. 
 ' Lost her shoe, did she, poor little Lulu? I 
 hadn't heard of that. And it was brought in on a 
 silver salver. Oh! what am I to do with this 
 girlie?" 
 
 " I don't know, dad." 
 
 ' Have her taught manners, eh? The worst 
 of it is that I ain't a particularly smart hand at 
 manners myself; and if I was to be put on my oath, 
 Lulu, I wouldn't swear that I hadn't disgraced my- 
 self, too, at this very dinner-party. The queer 
 dishes bothered me, and the flunkeys and wines, 
 and all the rest of the dashed show. I tell you what 
 it is, Lulu: though I've been in training for exhibi- 
 tion these last six or seven years, I believe I'd be 
 more at home now over a billy of tea and a damper 
 by the camp-fire than I am at this kind of flash 
 set-out. I'm out of it, in the manners line, any- 
 how; and all Mrs. Perryman's lectures don't seem 
 to have come to much." 
 
 " No, dad." 
 
 Nulma was silent for a long time, and James 
 Goodeve fumbled about in the inner pocket of his 
 overcoat, and at last produced a brown pipe and 
 indiarubber pouch, carefully wrapped up in a red
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 133 
 
 silk pocket-handkerchief, so that no odour of strong 
 tobacco should pollute his evening-suit. He filled 
 his pipe, lighted it, and began to smoke, rolling 
 up the leather curtain on one side of the jingle, 
 thus allowing the fumes to escape into the night. 
 They were a good way beyond the Government 
 House gates. The driver of the jingle whipped on 
 his horse, and the clumsy vehicle clattered down 
 Victoria Street, its noise drowning the little disap- 
 pointed sigh Nulma heaved, as she leaned side- 
 ways against the iron supports of the canopy, and 
 gave herself up to meditation. She was thinking of 
 Kenward. He had not joined in the little chorus 
 of kind speeches and cordial good-nights which 
 had followed upon her discomfiture; but had stood 
 apart; and Nulma flushed now, and shrank into 
 herself again, as she remembered the glance, half 
 of fun, half of pity, which she had surprised in 
 his eyes. He had not said good-night to her. Had 
 she disgusted him utterly? Had he been waiting 
 for her to put out her hand, or was it possible he 
 had kept aloof from a wish not to add to her em- 
 barrassment? No; it was much more likely that 
 he had not thought her worth troubling about — a 
 greedy, forward creature, who was just amusing 
 as a type of an Australian girl, without manners or 
 education, but with hair, eyes, and complexion that 
 would make a good study in yellows and browns. 
 That was all he thought about. 
 
 Nulma heaved a louder sigh, an ejaculation,
 
 134 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 rather, of self-discontent, and of a vague pain — 
 pain such as she had never before in her life ex- 
 perienced. Her father heard the sigh, and, feeling 
 for her hand, took it in his and fondled it. 
 
 " Never mind, Lulu! I was only chaffing. Who 
 minds if a pretty girl drops her shoe and steals the 
 lollipops? It quite shook up the old Governor; 
 and that was a pretty speech, wasn't it, now, that 
 he made to you? We must be sure and give Luce 
 his message. Come, don't be cast down, child. I 
 can tell you they all cotton to you in a way that 
 made your old dad as proud as Punch. You're to 
 lunch with Lady Arthur on Tuesday. That's a tak- 
 ing woman — no nonsensical pride about her. Just 
 you watch her ways, and you won't need to go to 
 Mrs. Perryman's for lessons in manners." 
 
 It was clear that Lady Arthur had taken pains 
 to be agreeable to the Minister of Mines — clear, 
 also, that Goodeve's faith in . Mrs. Perryman as a 
 social authority had been a little shaken. 
 
 Nulma was silent. She reflected that the driver, 
 with whom they w r ere sitting back to back, might 
 perhaps hear what they were saying, though the 
 breeze from the river blew her father's words away 
 in front of them into the night; and, besides, she 
 had an odd-mixed feeling about Lady Arthur — 
 about many other things connected with the dinner- 
 party — which she knew instinctively her father 
 would never understand. Goodeve went on fon- 
 dling his child's hand, but somehow, for the very
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 135 
 
 first time in Nulma's life, his touch irritated rather 
 than soothed her. She was disagreeably aware of 
 the bony protuberances, the shaggy hairs, the en- 
 larged joints, of her father's hand, and had a sud- 
 den vision of Kenward's long, smooth, artistic fin- 
 gers. The contrast between the two hands seemed 
 typical of the immense gulf which divided her own 
 being, her circumstances and upbringing from those 
 of the men and women with whom she had just 
 parted — the four men and the one woman who 
 made up the Government House family. That first 
 faint sense of jar between herself and her father 
 gave the girl the keenest pain. She did not under- 
 stand it; she only felt it. With a little wriggling 
 movement she withdrew her hand, and, catching 
 at her belt, drew out the spray of drooping buds 
 Kenward had given her. Their faint fragrance 
 half angered, half thrilled her. It recalled that 
 speech of his, that she had herself provoked, in 
 which he had given her for her emblem the wattle 
 flower. Oh, well, it was a very appropriate com- 
 parison, she thought bitterly. His rejection of the 
 stephanotis as " too exotic and suggestive " — she 
 recalled his murmured words — suddenly took an 
 unsuspected and humiliating meaning. She was 
 just a bit of wild Bush wattle — a weed, pretty in 
 its way, nice to paint, perhaps, but only a weed. 
 Not the sort of flower to decorate a drawing-room, 
 or to be placed in such bouquets as he might offer 
 to Lady Arthur Keefe. A weed that would just
 
 136 NULMA. 
 
 make a pretty picture, because it was " genuine 
 Australian," and then be thrown away! 
 
 Poor Nulma! It was a new phase of life upon 
 which she was entering this evening. Always be- 
 fore she had been in harmony with her surround- 
 ings, and the little inward tumult of vague conjec- 
 ture and romantic longings of which she was al- 
 ways conscious had been only a pleasant excite- 
 ment — a sort of stirring refrain to the tranquil song 
 of existence. To-night the refrain had become an 
 aching discord, and the pleasant excitement had 
 turned suddenly into a passionate pain. What was 
 the use of going among people like that? Her 
 father was quite right: they two would be more 
 at home over a billy of tea and a damper by a 
 camp-fire than at a grand dinner-table where lords 
 and ladies sat. Nulma, in her childish ignorance 
 and mortification, exaggerated the social impor- 
 tance of the Arthur Keefes after a manner at which 
 Lady Arthur, could she have known, would have 
 smiled bitterly under the smarting knowledge of 
 her disappointed ambitions. Yes, Nulma said to 
 herself, her father and she were of a different kind 
 from all those Government House people. They 
 had come from bullock-drivers; she had been born 
 under a bullock dray — anyhow, she was glad that she 
 had told Kenward that ; they were rough and coarse 
 and ignorant. Where should they have learned 
 those arts and accomplishments which made up 
 such a woman as Ladv Arthur? — or even Mrs. De-
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 157 
 
 graves, who, as all Leichardt's Town knew, held 
 her head high because she had come of a good old 
 English family? And such men as the stately old 
 Governor and his nephew, who, in spite of a certain 
 heavy simplicity, had the unmistakable stamp of 
 birth and education; such men, too, as the Chief 
 Justice, or even Captain Textor. Nulma did not 
 include Caspar Van Vechten in her summary, and 
 yet the thought struck her as she recalled him now, 
 that he did not seem out of place among those 
 other men — had even shown to advantage in his 
 quiet, reserved way. She had looked upon him as 
 belonging to her world; now she began to see that 
 he belonged to the other world, too. The inhab- 
 itants of that world might laugh at herself and her 
 father, might tolerate them — even be amused at 
 them in their kind, pitying fashion — but they would 
 not laugh at or tolerate Van Vechten. He would 
 always hold his own. Nulma found relief and some 
 restoration of her self-confidence in this concep- 
 tion of him. More and more he came to represent 
 in her mind the notion of an ultimate support. And 
 yet she remembered she had hardly spoken a word 
 to him all the evening. But, then, he had been 
 there; his eyes had often met hers; and she had 
 felt herself enveloped by his protecting tenderness.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IS IT ALL PAST! 
 
 The Chief Justice did not come forward to take 
 his leave till after all the Leichardtstonians had de- 
 parted. He was so intimate with the Government 
 House party that it seemed a matter of course for 
 him to remain and take part in the discussion which 
 was sure to follow the entertainment of these new 
 guests. But Colonel Burnside's ponderous criti- 
 cisms upon the social attitude of the Leader of the 
 Opposition towards the Minister of Mines were in- 
 terrupted by the return of Captain Textor and Lord 
 Arthur, after seeing off the Degraves, Captain Tex- 
 tor carrying the Governor's mail-bag, which was 
 always sent up immediately upon the arrival of the 
 English mail, before ordinary letters were even 
 sorted. 
 
 " The English mail is in, sir," he said. 
 
 Lady Arthur looked up with languid concern. 
 The file of telegrams from Albany, which had pre- 
 ceded the mail by a day or two — for in those days 
 there was no direct cable communication, and the 
 news of the declaration of war between France and 
 
 138
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?" 
 
 139 
 
 Germany and the defeat at Sedan arrived simul- 
 taneously — had taken off the edge of curiosity with 
 regard to public affairs, and her private interests 
 were centred in Leichardt's Land. The Governor 
 paused in his remark to make a sign to his aide- 
 de-camp, intimating that he would examine the 
 despatches in his private room. He was red-tapish 
 in such matters. 
 
 " I am coming in, Textor. Arthur, I should 
 like to have notes made at once of anything im- 
 portant that may require my consideration. You 
 will excuse me, Kenward." 
 
 " I was just going to say good-night, sir," re- 
 plied Kenward as he took the Governor's hand. 
 
 " Oh, stay a few minutes till they bring me in 
 my letters," exclaimed Lady Arthur. " And I want 
 to settle with you about Tuesday." 
 
 The heavy curtains fell behind the Governor 
 and the aide-de-camp. Lord Arthur, however, lin- 
 gered, stolidly irresolute. 
 
 ' The Governor wants you to write despatches, 
 Arthur," said his wife. Then her tone altered sud- 
 denly. 'Won't they keep till to-morrow?" she 
 added meekly. That slumberous gleam in her 
 husband's heavy eyes roused again the morbid ter- 
 ror which attacked her so often in those days. 
 
 ' I'm afraid his Excellency won't think so." 
 Lord Arthur looked at his watch, and slowly 
 snapped it to. 
 
 'Writing despatches at 11.30 p.m. is a beastly 
 10
 
 140 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 bore," he said. ' That's an uncommonly pretty 
 girl you were talking to all this evening, Ken- 
 ward." 
 
 " She is Air. Kenward's child of Nature," put 
 in Lady Arthur. " I told you that was what he'd 
 end in." 
 
 " Oh, well, she's uncommonly pretty," said Lord 
 Arthur; and added: "Well, good-night. You'll 
 have your letters directly, Margot." He went out; 
 at the door he turned. " I think you'd better not 
 sit up too long," he said to Lady Arthur. " What's 
 that about Tuesday?" 
 
 ' The child of Nature is coming to luncheon," 
 she replied shrilly. : ' Mr. Kenward is going to 
 paint her portrait, and / am to sit by and do pro- 
 priety." 
 
 " Oh, well, I hope the picture will be as suc- 
 cessful as yours, Margot. Good-night, Kenward. 
 You'll look after yourself; there are drinks in the 
 hall." 
 
 The two were alone. Margot's eyes had a wild 
 expression as they rested for a moment on Ken- 
 ward's face. As soon as the door had closed upon 
 her husband, she gave a little gasping breath as 
 if she wanted air. Then she moved abruptly into 
 the inner room, and stood over the fire, her arms 
 on the mantelpiece, apparently lost in contempla- 
 tion of the point of her dainty shoe. 
 
 " I haven't such a small foot as your child of 
 Nature," she said.
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?" ^j 
 
 " No? " He seemed puzzled. " It's quite small 
 enough for your height, and I've always told you 
 no one ever had such an arched instep." He looked 
 down at her shoe also as he took up his position 
 by the mantelpiece beside her. 
 
 ' That shoe episode was very funny," Lady 
 Arthur went on. " She is a most ingenuous creature 
 — as she should be — your child of Nature. Did you 
 know that she left her shoe behind her under the 
 dinner-table? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Perhaps she isn't used to wearing them. Car- 
 son brought it in to her here, and we had an oppor- 
 tunity of observing that her foot is a pretty one. 
 The effect would have been better if she had worn 
 silk stockings." 
 
 Kenward felt jarred. He said nothing. 
 
 " It was very ingenuous, too — the abstraction 
 of the bonbons. Uncle Burnside quite rose to the 
 occasion. Was it the story of the sick friend she 
 was telling you all that time you were together in 
 here? If so, the sick friend must be immensely 
 interesting, judging from the expression of your 
 face." 
 
 '' No," replied Kenward shortly. " The story 
 was not about the sick friend." 
 
 " Might one be permitted to ask what it was 
 about?" 
 
 " Certainly. Miss Goodeve was telling me " — 
 Kenward hesitated a moment — " telling me that
 
 I_}2 
 
 NULMA 
 
 she had been born under a bullock dray; that her 
 only brother and sister had died of snake-bite when 
 she was a day or two old, and that the shock had 
 killed her mother also." 
 
 "Ah!" Lady Arthur looked interested. "Yes, 
 I remember. That must have been the sad story 
 she would not speak of before her father. It was 
 very confiding of her to tell you. I asked her 
 where she had got her name — Nulma, which in 
 the aboriginal tongue means, she told me, a 
 snake." 
 
 * It was her dying mother's fancy. They chris- 
 tened her Nulma out there in the Bush." 
 
 Just then the butler came in with a pile of let- 
 ters. 
 
 " Lord Arthur told me to bring you these, my 
 lady." 
 
 Margot took the letters, glancing at the en- 
 velopes one by one, and laid them on the mantel- 
 piece. 
 
 "I'd better go," Kenward said; "you want to 
 read your letters." 
 
 " No, I do not. They will keep." 
 
 She was silent for a minute or two; then again 
 she turned on him that long, wild look. He came 
 closer to her. 
 
 " Margot," he said, in a low voice, " what is the 
 matter? " 
 
 " Nothing. Only I think I am experiencing the 
 preliminary throes of martyrdom; and I'm wonder-
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?" 143 
 
 ing whether I've got the courage to go through 
 with it." 
 
 " Martyrdom ! I don't understand you." 
 
 " No, I suppose not. It was only during dinner 
 that I made my plan of martyrdom. And you have 
 lent yourself to it admirably, though, of course, you 
 were not conscious of doing so." She spoke bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " In what way?" he asked coldly. 
 
 " I gave you your chance of freedom that night 
 on the steamer," she answered, " and you wouldn't 
 take it. Well, am I not showing my entire confi- 
 dence in your loyalty by arranging unlimited op- 
 portunities for you of flirtation with that girl whom 
 you admire so greatly ? " 
 
 "Oh, so that's it?" He spoke irritably, then 
 went on in a calmer tone: " Yes; I do admire her. 
 Is that what you mean by your martyrdom? My 
 dear, what is the use of it? Haven't we settled all 
 that?" 
 
 He stooped as he spoke, and, on a sudden 
 impulse, bent his head to her shoulder, and 
 touched her neck with his lips twice lingeringly. 
 In an instant the whole expression of her face 
 changed. 
 
 "Oh, Outram! But you mustn't! This isn't 
 dear London. And I sometimes think the orderlies 
 and footmen are spies. Arthur is jealous." Her 
 voice had sunk to an agitated whisper. 
 
 Kenward's brows contracted. He had not
 
 144 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 thought of Lord Arthur. " You never told me. 
 Has he said anything to you?" 
 
 ' No — yes; you need not mind. He is horribly 
 fond of me. And I'm frightened — I'm frightened." 
 'You poor little thing!" The man's tender- 
 ness woke up. ' It's all fancy. Don't worry over 
 that kind of thing. Now, we agreed, you know, 
 that the past was to be — past. We're behaving 
 splendidly." 
 
 "Are we? Is it all past?" She touched her 
 shoulder with a laugh, the sound of which gave him 
 an odd pain; it was like the echo of dead raptures. 
 "Oh, Outram, how long since you did that! It's 
 nonsense — nonsense about our keeping only friends. 
 I can't help it. I must — once! " 
 
 She put her two hands on his shoulders and 
 lifted her face to his. The hands stole round his 
 neck, and they kissed each other — or, it would be 
 more correct to say, she kissed him in a short, 
 fevered uniting of lips. 
 
 Before Tuesday came, Nulma's mood of revolt 
 against social circumstance, and her half-formed 
 determination not to allow Kenward the privilege 
 of perpetuating on canvas his wattle simile, had 
 passed away; and she was again almost her old 
 happy self. A friendly little note from Lady Ar- 
 thur, ratifying the invitation, written under the re- 
 actionary influence of Kenward's new tenderness, 
 had removed the impression that all the people at
 
 " IS IT ALL PAST?" 
 
 145 
 
 Government House were amusing themselves by 
 making fun of her. It must be owned that this self- 
 consciousness was very unlike Nulma, but, some- 
 how, her confidence in herself seemed to have had 
 a shake. Moreover, at the Executive Council, two 
 days after the dinner, the Governor himself had in- 
 quired particularly of the Minister of Mines after 
 his charming daughter, who had in the midst of 
 her own gaieties so unselfishly remembered her 
 friend. And then Caspar Van Vechten had come 
 out at the worst time of her dejection, had taken 
 her for a good canter on the Arab, had soothed, 
 comforted and admired her, and had put her on 
 good terms again with herself and the world. 
 
 It was so pleasant to be able to tell Uncle Van 
 just what she had been feeling — with the exception 
 of those emotions relating peculiarly to her father 
 and to Mr. Kenward, which she kept to herself — 
 and to be certain of his sympathy and comprehen- 
 sion. He had been just a little bit stiff at first, she 
 fancied, but when she had expressed her regret 
 at having had no talk with him at the Government 
 House dinner-party, he had thawed at once; and 
 after all, as they agreed, what did it matter about 
 not conversing in company, when he could come 
 out whenever he pleased to the Bunyas, and they 
 could talk so much more pleasantly and confiden- 
 tially there? He had not seemed so sympathetic, 
 Nulma thought, when she had told him about the 
 picture. He asked whether her father had been
 
 I46 NULMA. 
 
 consulted on the subject, and when Nulma ex- 
 plained that the portrait was to be a present to Mr. 
 Goodeve on his birthday in the following October, 
 Van Vechten observed that possibly Mr. Goodeve 
 might not care to be placed under an obligation of 
 that kind to a stranger, and that, anyhow, mys- 
 teries were a mistake, and the thing ought to be 
 square and above-board. He was not even satis- 
 fied when he heard that Lady Arthur Keefe was 
 sponsor, so to speak, of the whole project; and the 
 end of it was that Nulma took the best course that 
 could possibly be taken, and at dinner that evening 
 told her father, in the presence of Van Vechten, 
 all about the proposed undertaking. 
 
 Contrary to Mr. Van Vechten's suggestion, 
 James Goodeve showed no unwillingness to incur 
 the obligation. Perhaps he did not consider the 
 acceptance of a mere work of art in the light of an 
 obligation, any more than he would have consid- 
 ered it an obligation to accept a friend's photo- 
 graph. It would be a very different thing if the 
 Chief Justice painted for money. But, then, who 
 could conceive a Chief Justice painting for money? 
 He did it for pleasure and recreation, and what 
 greater pleasure could be offered a man than that 
 of sitting opposite Nulma, being entertained by her 
 prattle and personal opinions, and given full oppor- 
 tunity for studying her charm? This was Mr. 
 Goodeve's private and personal opinion, which he 
 did not publicly announce, but he made it pretty
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?" 
 
 M7 
 
 clear that he considered the obligation to be on his 
 own side. Then he was flattered by Lady Arthur's 
 part in the affair, and by Nulma's ready admission 
 into the charmed circle of Government House. No 
 looking down now, by the Degraves set, upon his 
 daughter, and no need to perplex himself as to a 
 chaperon for her in the coming gaieties. Lady Ar- 
 thur and the Governor would chaperon her. She 
 would be put straight away at the top of the tree 
 — that was how he phrased it — and in the end who 
 could tell what might not happen? But here James 
 Goodeve's self-congratulations received a check. 
 The end would mean Nulma's marriage, and did 
 he want Nulma, his pride, his darling, to make a 
 grand marriage into a family which would despise 
 and shunt her father because he had once been a 
 bullock-driver? What if his own precautions against 
 contact for her with the vulgar herd, his jealous 
 guarding of her from the admiration of Leichardt's 
 Town youths, his care to preserve her fresh and 
 unsullied by boarding-school notions? were all to 
 be turned against him? What if, in striving to 
 keep his jewel out of the hands of the polishers, he 
 had made it only the more valuable and flawless a 
 possession, to be filched from him the more read- 
 ily by greedy fortune-hunters? He had so care- 
 fully kept from the world the fact that he was rich, 
 had lived so quietly and so plainly, that no one 
 might guess Nulma would be an heiress; but he 
 could not hide from the world her beauty and her
 
 I 4 8 NULMA. 
 
 grace. They had shone out and conquered, and 
 he was proud even to snobbish delight in the fa- 
 vour of the great, and yet he was sore and troubled. 
 
 Something of all these mingled feelings he con- 
 fided to Caspar Van Vechten, after Nulma had gone 
 to bed, as the two men sat over their pipes in the 
 veranda. Perhaps he may have had a motive in so 
 doing. There was something wistful in the tone 
 with which he added: " I wish I could see Lulu 
 married to some really good fellow with a stake 
 in the country, who'd not take my girl away from 
 her father and teach her to be ashamed of those 
 who gave her birth. Some chap who was a gentle- 
 man, and as good as any of the fine English lot over 
 there " — Goodeve jerked his head riverwards, pre- 
 sumably in the direction of Government House — 
 " but who had worked his way, too, and knew what 
 roughing it meant. A man of character, and not 
 too young, for Lulu is a bit headstrong, and needs 
 guiding." 
 
 He paused and looked searchingly at Van Vech- 
 ten, who was leaning back on his squatter's chair, 
 his strongly-moulded face as impassive as though 
 he had no anxiety whatever on the subject of Nul- 
 ma's future; but his voice trembled a little as he 
 answered: 
 
 "That's all very well, Goodeve; but there's one 
 thing you've left out of your calculations. Nulma 
 has a will of her own, as you say; and she is a girl 
 of very strong feelings, and likely to develop still
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?' 
 
 149 
 
 stronger feelings when she becomes a woman, or 
 I am very greatly mistaken. You'll have to take 
 Nulma's own character and opinions into account, 
 I fancy. Suppose such a man as you describe were 
 hanging round, and pleased to marry your daugh- 
 ter to-morrow; it wouldn't be of much use, would 
 it, if she didn't care for him?" 
 
 " Of course she would care for him. A girl 
 as young as Nulma is always ready to care for a 
 good-looking, gentlemanly, sterling fellow who is 
 in love with her, and whom all the other women 
 in the place would jump at for a husband." 
 
 Van Yechten moved his head slowly from its 
 position against the back of the chair, and sat 
 straight up. He had taken his cigar from his 
 mouth, and was contemplating its burnt end. 
 
 " When I was a young man," he said, " I had 
 that notion too, and I bothered a woman into mar- 
 rying me on the principle that where liking was 
 love would certainly come. The woman ran away 
 from me with another man. Since then I've come 
 to the conclusion that to persuade into marriage 
 a young girl who doesn't know her own mind is a 
 dangerous experiment, and one which a man isn't 
 morally justified in making." 
 
 "Good God, Van Vechten!" exclaimed James 
 Goodeve. "So that is the story behind you, is it? 
 I always guessed there was one, but I didn't im- 
 agine it was this kind of thing." 
 
 ' Nor anyone else in Leichardt's Land. I've
 
 150 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 spoken about it to no living soul in these ten years 
 past, and I rely upon your honour, Goodeve, to 
 keep it to yourself." 
 
 Goodeve nodded; no other assurance was neces- 
 sary. 
 
 " And the woman? " he said. " You don't mean 
 to tell me that you're bound still. What has be- 
 come of the woman ? " 
 
 " Divorced — and dead," replied Van Vechten 
 laconically. ' Divorced, that is, according to civil 
 law," he added. " For me, as a strict Catholic, 
 there's no such thing as divorce." 
 
 ' Ha, as a strict Catholic," repeated Goodeve 
 doubtfully ; " you and I have agreed to differ on 
 that point, Caspar. It's small odds to me, though 
 I'd walk ten miles to get out of the way of an Irish 
 priest. I suppose there are good Papists in the 
 world as well as bad ones. Only how there came 
 to be Papists at all is a puzzle." 
 
 " A man is what inheritance and tradition have 
 made him," said Van Vechten. " In the nature of 
 things, a Dutch Catholic is bound to be what you 
 Protestants would call a bigoted Papist." 
 
 ' You needn't shove me into the Protestant 
 boiling," said Goodeve roughly. " I'm not much 
 on religion — never have been since I lost Jenny 
 and the little ones out West. I couldn't stomach 
 Providence after that. My creed is a short one. 
 ' Owe no man anything, and keep a clean tally,' 
 that's enough for me. The religious side of the
 
 "IS IT ALL PAST?" 
 
 151 
 
 question don't affect me. Anyhow," he added 
 abruptly, after a moment's pause, " I'm glad the 
 woman is dead." 
 
 Van Yechten was silent, too, and both men 
 smoked on for several minutes without speaking; 
 then Goodeve said only, " Have a glass of grog, 
 won't you?" and, rising, helped himself from the 
 decanter of brandy which stood on a small table 
 near. ' Nights beginning to get a bit chilly," he 
 said; " I expect this'll be about our last sit out in 
 the veranda after dinner." 
 
 Van Vechten got up, too. Simultaneously the 
 two men faced each other, looking straight into 
 each other's eyes. Van Vechten held out his hand, 
 which Goodeve grasped. They understood each 
 other. 
 
 ' You're a man of few words, Caspar," said 
 Goodeve; " but I'd trust you as far as hell's gates."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 lady Arthur's martyrdom. 
 
 Nulma's first sitting went off quite satisfac- 
 torily. A sort of waiting-room, scarcely used by the 
 members of the Executive, and which had a north- 
 ern aspect, was turned into a studio, a model's plat- 
 form was rigged up, and Nulma placed thereon; 
 while Lord Arthur, Captain Textor, and even the 
 Governor himself, came in to give their opinion as 
 to the position in which she should be represented. 
 No mystery was made about the business. Nulma 
 told Lady Arthur that her father was greatly pleased 
 at Mr. Kenward's proposal, and Kenward made a 
 point of calling at the Mines Office and thanking 
 the Minister for the privilege accorded him. He 
 liked Nulma for having consulted her father. There 
 was a certain dignity in her frankness which put 
 her upon a higher level. But he was not so pleased 
 when he learned that it was Van Vechten who had 
 inspired her frankness. 
 
 Anyhow, a rumour soon went round Leichardt's 
 Town that the Chief Justice, who was a great ama- 
 
 152
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 
 
 153 
 
 teur artist, had been so struck by Nulma Goodeve's 
 beauty that he had requested permission to paint 
 her portrait — as though permission were necessary 
 for what ought to be considered a great honour! — 
 and that Lady Arthur had actually arranged for 
 the sittings to take place at Government House. 
 Was it possible she wished to arrange a match also? 
 and if so, what was to become of Mr. Van Vech- 
 ten? This was what Miss Caroline Degraves asked 
 herself, and, without serious premeditation, her 
 manner became a little colder to Justin Blaize. At 
 any rate, the vague rumours of Kenward's attach- 
 ment to the Governor's niece-in-law, which had 
 begun to float about Leichardt's Town, seemed thus 
 contradicted, and it appeared that Lady Arthur's 
 martyrdom was already bearing fruit. 
 
 But what a martyrdom it was! Many times she 
 wondered to herself, as she had wondered to Ken- 
 ward, whether she had the courage to go through 
 with it. To sit there with that interminable piece 
 of arabesque embroidery between her fingers, and 
 watch the man she loved apparently absorbed in 
 the fresh graces and charms of this young girl, 
 whom she already looked upon as her rival; to see 
 the picture growing, and note the keen interest 
 of the artist in his subject and in his work; to listen 
 languidly to Nulma's light chatter, which some- 
 how, in spite of its limitations and its frivolitv, 
 seemed to give hints of poetic subtleties; or else 
 to catch the ball of talk herself in a fit of brilliant
 
 154 NULMA. 
 
 exasperation, and dazzle, perplex, and fascinate the 
 girl by her clever paradoxes and soft cynicisms, or 
 to vary things by appeals to Kenward. Did he re- 
 member this or that? and wouldn't Nulma have 
 enjoyed such a thing? and how certain it was that 
 at such and such a point of sympathy Young Aus- 
 tralia and Old England would meet! There was 
 always, even in the more personal talk with Ken- 
 ward, a vague reference to Nulma, so that the little 
 ignoramus could never feel quite left out in the 
 cold, and could only admire and be grateful for her 
 hostess's tact and consideration. Yet Lady Arthur 
 managed to convey clearly enough to Nulma that 
 she was an ignoramus, and had no place in her own 
 or Kenward's world. But for this occasional sword- 
 play, Lady Arthur could hardly have borne those 
 hours; and, indeed, sometimes she did not bear 
 them, but would abruptly leave the room on some 
 pretext or other, and have out alone her storm of 
 jealous passion. 
 
 After all, however, the hours of torture were 
 not so many. The sittings had to be snatched in 
 the intervals of the Chief Justice's duties: two or 
 three mornings or afternoons running, perhaps, and 
 then with a week or more between, when he was 
 obliged to be absent on official business. It was 
 wonderful, though, what progress would be made 
 in a few hours' work, once the important matters 
 of dress and position were decided. 
 
 He had settled, after all, upon a very simple
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 
 
 155 
 
 white frock, and she was to hold a bunch of freshly- 
 gathered wattle in her hands. The wattle was to 
 be added in August. For the present the hands and 
 waist were a blur. But the face was Nulma's — 
 Nulma, with the fawn-like eyes, the ripe, bunya- 
 nut hair, and the fearless yet startled look. It was 
 not a great work of art, but it was a bold, vivid 
 sketch, and, somehow, Kenward had caught in the 
 expression he put into Nulma's face something 
 which a great outside artist might not have found 
 there, something strange, resolute, ungirlish, almost 
 tragic — the potentialities, as it were, of Nulma. 
 
 " I don't think I'm quite like that," said Nulma 
 herself one day, when, descending from her plat- 
 form, she inspected the picture. 
 
 He had given her a rest. They were alone for 
 the moment. Lord Arthur had come in, and had 
 called away his wife, telling her that the Governor 
 wished to consult her about something:. 
 
 'Is there anything you don't like?" Kenward 
 asked anxiously, getting up and standing a little 
 way back from the picture. " I wish you'd tell me, 
 for I could alter it, perhaps. But your father 
 seemed quite satisfied yesterday." 
 
 For there had been a meeting of the Executive 
 the day before, and at its conclusion the Governor 
 had detained both the Premier and the Minister of 
 Mines, and had brought them in to inspect the 
 work. Mr. Goodeve had been requested to make 
 allowances on the score of incompleteness, but the 
 
 11
 
 1 5 6 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 warnings were quite unnecessary. As an art critic, 
 James Goodeve frankly owned that he was out of 
 it; but he knew a likeness when he saw one, and 
 was enraptured with this of Nulma. He had warmly 
 pressed the artist's hand, and, contrary to his usage, 
 had invited him to come out on Saturday or Sunday 
 to the Bunyas,and stop without ceremony to dinner. 
 Needless to say that Kenward accepted the invita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't for the whole world have it 
 altered! " cried Nulma; " it's far too pretty. That's 
 the fault, I suppose. But if daddy is pleased, it's a 
 good sort of fault, Mr. Kenward." 
 
 " I wish you'd tell me where it is you don't 
 think it quite like you." 
 
 Nulma looked long at the picture before she 
 answered. So did Kenward, and from the picture 
 he looked to Nuhna. 
 
 " I think," she said at last, " that you have put 
 more into my face than there really is in it — some- 
 thing like what you have put into Lady Arthur's 
 picture; though it's all right there. She has a his- 
 tory, and I have none. You have made me look 
 as if I were a girl in a story — as if any sort of won- 
 derful thing might happen to me." 
 
 " Well, isn't that true? Any sort of wonderful 
 thing might happen to you." 
 
 " Do you think so — out here in Leichardt's 
 Land?" 
 
 " The human drama fortunately, or unfortunate-
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 
 
 157 
 
 ly, does not confine itself to one particular locality. 
 It's much the same all the world over." 
 
 Nulma examined the picture again, going close 
 to it, and peering impartially into the painted sur- 
 face, as if she were searching for the clue to a mys- 
 tery. After that she went to a mirror placed above 
 a table between two windows, as the fashion used 
 to be, and examined herself with equal impartiality. 
 
 " Oh yes! " she cried; " you have put your idea 
 into the picture; I told you so. But I can't see 
 the least bit of all that in my face here." 
 
 He came nearer her and, invisible to her in the 
 glass, looked at her reflection. 
 
 " It's written in every line of it. There, Miss 
 Nulma — there's no use in your pretending to be 
 commonplace. I venture to prophesy that sooner 
 or later you'll contribute some pretty harrowing 
 scenes to the human drama — not harrowing to 
 yourself, I hope, but probably so to others." 
 
 ' The human drama," she repeated, and her 
 laugh had a note of embarrassment. " Please don't 
 take me out of my depth, Mr. Kenward. It makes 
 one think, somehow, of the great tragedies and 
 things one of my governesses tried to teach me 
 about; but she had to give it up, because I would 
 muddle up the names with Blacks' language. It 
 seems such an awfully grand expression to apply 
 to me, and daddy, and " 
 
 "And?" he questioned. 
 
 " I can't think of anyone else who has anything
 
 !58 NULMA. 
 
 much to do with my life, unless it's Mr. Van 
 Vechten." 
 
 An unreasonable spasm of jealousy seized Ken- 
 ward. He always winced under these allusions of 
 Nulma's to the man whom it was reported she 
 would eventually marry, though he would not admit 
 even to himself that they vexed him. Now he could 
 not blind himself to the fact that this speech of hers 
 had made him angry. 
 
 " Why do you always couple yourself like that 
 with Mr. Van Vechten?" he exclaimed. ' Is there 
 no other man in the world but Mr. Van Vechten?" 
 
 " He's the only man friend I've got," said 
 Nulma — " the only one daddy ever asks to the 
 Bunyas." 
 
 " Your father has asked me to the Bunyas," said 
 Kenward. " Did you not hear him yesterday? I 
 felt immensely honoured and grateful, and I am 
 coming. Then, Mr. Van Vechten will not be the 
 only one; you'll have to count me too, I hope, as 
 your friend." 
 
 He came a little closer to her shoulder, and now 
 she could see his face behind her in the glass. All 
 the time he had been watching hers. Suddenly she 
 became aware of this, and as he spoke her girlish 
 unconsciousness completely left her. She flushed 
 deeply. The same thought swept over both. Al- 
 ready she was beginning to realize his prophetic 
 portrait of her; there was something in her face 
 which had never before been there. The two pairs
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 
 
 159 
 
 of eyes met in that curious double way in the mir- 
 ror. The look in hers stirred in him remorse, ter- 
 ror, and a fearful, tingling delight. Her eyes seemed 
 to say to him, " I am the soul that you are awaken- 
 ing to life;" and with the almost horrible sense of 
 responsibility he felt also something of the creator's 
 joy — something of what Pygmalion might have felt 
 as he beheld the marble becoming flesh. 
 
 The sound of Lady Arthur's voice coming from 
 the veranda outside the Governor's room recalled 
 him to himself. The voice died away, and he sup- 
 posed she had re-entered, and was not coming back 
 to them just yet. Well, that interlude had taught 
 him that he must be careful; that he must finish 
 the portrait quickly, and get engrossed in his real 
 work, which happily was coming on now; and that 
 he must not allow himself to think too long of girl- 
 ish flesh-tints, of shy brown eyes, of maiden curves 
 and dimples, and of that fresh, fearless, unconscious 
 charm which was quite unlike any other charm 
 that had ever been brought to bear upon his, per- 
 haps, too susceptible artistic temperament. 
 
 He turned resolutely from the image in the 
 glass, the eyes of which held him as by a spell, 
 walked to the easel, where he altered the height of 
 the canvas a little, and squeezed some more rose 
 madder upon his palette. Then he came back to 
 her. She had turned from the mirror too, and was 
 watching him, still with that embarrassed flush, 
 and that dewy, eager look in her eyes.
 
 l6o NULMA. 
 
 ' Nulma," he said, " I'm not grudging Mr. 
 \ an Vechten his privileges — no, not in the least. 
 I am sure he is well worthy of them — much more 
 so than I should be; but, still, I should like to 
 have a little privilege on my own account, being 
 a selfish sort of beggar, you know, especially now 
 that I've really been asked to the Bunvas, and 
 got accepted by your father as a fit and proper sort 
 of person to be admitted into his family circle. I 
 know he doesn't admit everyone. I want you to 
 call me your friend too. Will you be my friend, 
 Nulma?" 
 
 Nulma impulsively put out her little brown 
 hand. There was something childishly pathetic in 
 the look from her wide-open brown eyes which ac- 
 companied the gesture. He took her hand in his 
 and held it while she spoke. 
 
 ' I'm only a stupid Australian girl, Mr. Ken- 
 ward, and daddy and I seem different, somehow — 
 different from all of you. Oh yes, I know," she 
 went on impatiently; " I felt it that first night we 
 dined here, and I said to myself then that perhaps 
 it would be better if we kept in our own place, and 
 if I put away all the longings that I've always had 
 to be with people like the people in stories — like 
 what you've been making me out to be; " and Nul- 
 ma gave her trembling little laugh which was so 
 sweet and so soft; how was it, Kenward thought, 
 that she had no trace of James Goodeve's rough 
 colonial accent? ; ' But everybody has been so kind
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. \6l 
 
 — the Governor and Lady Arthur and all of you. 
 I've forgotten what I thought then. Of course 
 I'll be your friend, Mr. Kenward; but it seems ab- 
 surd to ask me, and it would be more to the point 
 if I were to beg you to be mine. What good could 
 I be as a friend to you?" 
 
 " Every good, Nulma." 
 
 " And, then, a friend means a friend — really — 
 to me," Nulma went on. ' You see, I've got so 
 few — besides daddy, of course. Only Luce Perry- 
 man and Uncle Van. I can't count Mr. Latham, 
 you know, though he's my godfather. A Premier 
 can't be the friend of a little girl." 
 
 " But a Chief Justice can." 
 
 " Oh, and a Chief Justice is a greater person 
 really, or quite as great. Now you see what an 
 honour you are doing me. But you'd be so differ- 
 ent. The others don't seem able to tell me about 
 the things I want to know, or to teach me the things 
 I want to learn." 
 
 "And what are they, my child?" 
 
 " Oh, haven't you found out yet? England and 
 books, and people, like Lady Arthur — like you." 
 
 He winced again, this time at her unconscious 
 coupling of himself and Lady Arthur, which at the 
 moment jarred upon him inexpressibly. The real- 
 ization that it did so was a new warning. He 
 dropped her hand, resisting the sudden impulse 
 which had come over him a few moments before 
 to raise it to his lips.
 
 1 62 NULMA. 
 
 'Thank you, Nulma; you don't mind my say- 
 ing that just once in a way — on a solemn occasion 
 like this. You're such a child." 
 
 " Oh no! Please call me Nulma. It doesn't 
 seem natural to be Miss Goodeve. Everybody calls 
 me Nulma." 
 
 ' Well, you'll have to get accustomed to being- 
 Miss Goodeve, and to standing on your dignity, 
 after the May ball, mustn't you? For it wouldn't 
 do for all the young gentlemen who prowl about 
 Victoria Street to be calling you Nulma, would it? 
 I'm your friend, though, and so I may call you 
 Nulma once in a way — not too often. That's set- 
 tled, then. You're going to do me an immense deal 
 of good, my little friend; you are going to teach 
 me how to avoid rubbing against Australian preju- 
 dices: for I want to be a success as the Chief Jus- 
 tice of Leichardt's Land, and not a failure. Also 
 you will instruct me in so much of the Blacks' vo- 
 cabulary as will be of use to me in my official jour- 
 neyings. And I, in my turn, will instruct you 
 upon various English matters, which probably you 
 would be far better ignorant of; for a little knowl- 
 edge is a dangerous thing, Nulma, and is apt 
 to make the young self-conscious — a sad pity in 
 you." 
 
 " Oh no, I'll try not to get self-conscious! " 
 ' Well, we must see. Perhaps I shall help Mrs. 
 Perryman to correct your spelling, by telling you 
 of your mistakes when you honour me with an occa-
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 163 
 
 sional note. I believe you can spell a great deal 
 better than I can." 
 
 " Oh no, indeed! I never can manage the dic- 
 tionary words, and the presenting compliments, and 
 all that in the right place, which Mrs. Perryman 
 says should go into formal notes." 
 
 " Stuff! Don't present your compliments to me, 
 please — that I implore. If you do, I'll cease to be 
 your friend. And perhaps, if you liked, I'd tell you 
 some day something about the Greek tragedies and 
 ' things ' as you call them, that might make them 
 seem a little more interesting, and not quite so much 
 like Blacks' language. Remember, that is one im- 
 mense point of superiority you possess over me, 
 and over all the Oxford dons that ever were. You 
 can speak Blacks' language. Oh, there'll be a great 
 deal of mutual accommodation in our friendship! 
 And it's a bargain, isn't it, Nulma? " 
 
 He took her hand of his own accord a second 
 time, and this time he did, in spite of all previous 
 resolves, press it lightly and playfully to his lips. 
 Nulma flushed again. Ah! she had not blushed 
 when Caspar Van Vechten kissed her hand after 
 their particular compact, which was much odder 
 and more personal and embarrassing than this one. 
 
 Lady Arthur, coming round by the veranda 
 from the Governor's room, where he had been keep- 
 ing her in interminable consultation with Captain 
 Textor and Lord Arthur about some structural 
 arrangements for the Birthday ball, caught the
 
 1 64 NULMA. 
 
 scene between the painter and his model. " Al- 
 ready ! " The poor woman gasped the word. She 
 felt her doom approaching. A sensation of deadly 
 sickness came over her, and her heart thumped so 
 that she seemed to hear it above all the other sounds 
 round. 
 
 She clutched the iron pillar of the veranda and 
 steadied herself by it, subduing the mad longing she 
 had to rush in and openly upbraid Kenward for 
 his perfidy. Then, with a start of terror, she be- 
 came aware that her husband was watching her. 
 
 " Margot, what is the matter? Are you ill?" 
 He had run to her side. 
 
 " No — it's nothing — don't mind " 
 
 " Yes, it is something; you are ill. What upset 
 you?" 
 
 " I don't know — oh yes! Do tell them to cut 
 down that datura-tree — you know I can't stand 
 strong scents." 
 
 " I'll have it down at once. But it was more 
 than that. Afargot, you must come upstairs and lie 
 down. No, I can't have you going in there any 
 more; you must come and lie down." 
 
 He led her upstairs, supporting her, and put 
 her on the sofa, and called Maling, and dosed her 
 with sal volatile, brandy — any restorative that he 
 could lay hand on. She got rid of him at last, and 
 then, as soon as the door of the private secretary's 
 room had closed upon him, she darted up, ran down 
 the stairs and into the studio again.
 
 LADY ARTHUR'S MARTYRDOM. 165 
 
 Kenward was saying to Nulma in quite a mat- 
 ter-of-fact tone, and as though there had been no 
 such thing as a sentimental passage between them: 
 
 '' Now, Miss Goodeve, we've behaved atrocious- 
 ly, and have wasted a hideous lot of time this morn- 
 ing; but, still, I'm going to be merciful, and I shall 
 give you a ten minutes' rest — not a second more — 
 for this is the last sitting we shall have for a good 
 bit. I've got to begin judicial work again to-mor- 
 row, and give my mind to more serious matters." 
 
 After all, what had he done? Only kissed a 
 girl's hand in a half-bantering fashion. 
 
 Many men had kissed her own hand, some with 
 an old-fashioned gallantry; others because they 
 were half-foreigners, and it was their way; others, 
 again, because they were in love with her. Which 
 reason had it been with Outram Kenward? Im- 
 possible that he could be in love with Nulma al- 
 ready; he looked upon her as a child. So Margot 
 answered herself.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 It was about a fortnight after this that the great 
 night came — the night of the Birthday ball, which 
 rumour said was to outreach all other Biithday 
 balls that had been in the Randals' reign. Cap- 
 tain Textor had taken immense pains, so had the 
 curator of the Botanical Gardens. The decorations, 
 it was said, were to be quite extraordinary. The 
 scrubs along the river had been ransacked for stag- 
 horn ferns ; so had the Observatory and the Marine 
 Department generally, for flags; and there had been 
 a special importation of Chinese lanterns. It was 
 to be a very grand affair. 
 
 Nulma thought the place looked very like fairy- 
 land as she and her father drove in the enclosed 
 jingle between the sentries at the entrance gates. 
 The curving gravel road from the lodge was fes- 
 tooned with lanterns, which hung, too, from a great 
 ficus-tree standing back among the young bamboos 
 and shrubs. All the smaller trees were loaded with 
 coloured lamps, and they outlined the arcades of 
 
 1 66
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 167 
 
 the stone veranda, while the little beds on the lawn 
 were all traced with fairy-lights, which made a jewel- 
 like pattern upon the sward. There was a three- 
 quarter moon, which seemed to enhance instead of 
 marring the brilliancy of the illuminations, showing 
 up the dark pyramidal shapes of the orange-trees 
 and the blossoms on the camellia and azalea shrubs. 
 Within the hall door was a blaze of light and colour. 
 Canvas additions, draped about with flags, had been 
 thrown from the veranda, to serve as ante-rooms 
 and dressing-rooms; joints, canvas, and makeshifts 
 being concealed by stands of azaleas, by palms and 
 tree-ferns. For, as Captain Textor remarked to 
 Lady Arthur, it was the easiest thing possible to 
 produce an effect when poinsettias, azaleas, and 
 camellias were to be had in armfuls, and you had 
 Kew Conservatory without a roof all round you. 
 
 The general crowd had not begun to arrive 
 when Nulma and her father drove up. The Minis- 
 ters and such of the high officials as had the entree 
 were received first, and then ranged themselves be- 
 hind the Governor's party, while the guests of lesser 
 importance made their bows and filed past. It was 
 a grievance to Mrs. Perryman that she was not 
 able to accompany Nulma, her husband being only 
 the head of a department, and therefore not hon- 
 oured by a card of entree. She did not think it be- 
 coming that a young girl in her teens should take 
 precedence of a matron who might have been her 
 mother. The Perryman household was not alto-
 
 1 68 NULMA. 
 
 gether cheerful, in fact, when Nulma went in, on 
 the way to Government House, to show herself to 
 poor little Luce, now lying on the drawing-room 
 sofa, with just faint hopes held out that she might 
 be able to get up and make an appearance, but not 
 dance, at one of the June " at homes " — Lady Ran- 
 dal had always given two " at homes " in June, and 
 it was supposed that Governor Burnside would fol- 
 low the precedent. Luce had been crying softly, 
 Mr. Perryman looked worried, and Mrs. Perryman 
 was cross — first because she had no Luce to bring 
 out, and secondly because Miss Orr, the dress- 
 maker, in altering her last year's dress, had made 
 it too scanty. " As if I wasn't thin enough already, 
 that she should want to make me look still more 
 like a skeleton! " wrathfully exclaimed Mrs. Perry- 
 man, inspecting her scraggy, ill-jointed proportions 
 in a glass, while Luce from her sofa tried to pull 
 out her mother's draperies and give an effect of 
 amplitude which was not in fact. Nulma burst upon 
 the scene a radiant vision in white tarlatan — girls 
 wore tarlatan in those days — and carrying a bou- 
 quet of white rosebuds and maidenhair fern, which, 
 with its long satin streamers, might have come from 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 "Oh, Lulu, how lovely!" cried Luce. "Who 
 gave it you? " 
 
 ; ' Mr. Van Vechten, of course," replied Nulma. 
 
 ' Who else would give me a bouquet? That was 
 
 always a bargain between us. He was to give me
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 169 
 
 my bouquet, and I was to give him the first 
 dance." 
 
 " Oh, can he dance? " said Luce contemptuous- 
 ly. " I thought you'd have danced the first dance 
 with Captain Textor, or the Chief Justice, or one 
 of that lot." Luce in her private heart considered 
 Mr. Van Vechten a respectable bore, far too old to 
 be welcomed as a lover. " For my part, I'd rather 
 have had Victor Degraves than Mr. Van Vechten," 
 she added. 
 
 " Or Malcolm Derrett," said Nulma scornfully. 
 " Please don't compare Mr. Van Vechten with 
 those two." 
 
 " I wasn't. He's old enough to be their father. 
 You don't care for young men, Lulu, because you've 
 never been allowed to go in the way of beaux." 
 
 " I don't care for boys, if that's what you mean," 
 returned Nulma loftily. " And as for beaux — that 
 sort of thing is vulgar, common. Fancy Lady Ar- 
 thur talking about — beaux! " 
 
 " Ladv Arthur is a married woman. Oh, I 
 knew how it would be. I knew you'd get spoilt by 
 being made so much of at Government House. 
 You despise all your old friends now. It's we that 
 are vulgar, you meant to say. And me lying 
 here " 
 
 "Oh, you poor little thing!" cried Nulma, 
 stricken with sorrow, as Luce began to cry. ' I for- 
 got you weren't going. How selfish and horrid I 
 am! Never mind, Luce dear; your turn will come.
 
 i;o 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 Dr. Clayton says you'll be all right in June. And, 
 whisper, shall I take any message from you to any- 
 one?" 
 
 Mrs. Ferryman had gone back to wrestle with 
 her dress, and the younger girls and Mr. Perryman 
 were engaged on the tying up of a buttonhole bou- 
 quet. Outside, from the jingle, sounded Mr. Good- 
 
 eve s voice: 
 it 
 
 Nulma, look sharp! Haven't you done ad- 
 miring each other yet? " 
 
 " Oh, is your father there? " exclaimed Mr. Fer- 
 ryman, and ran out, mindful of the fact that Mr. 
 Goodeve was a Minister, and that, though a neigh- 
 bour and a familiar friend, a meed of respect was 
 his due. 
 
 " I must go," said Nulma. " Who is it, Luce, 
 and what am I to say? " 
 
 ' You can tell Malcolm to come and see me," 
 whispered Luce. 
 
 4 He daren't," cried Nulma. " He is a coward. 
 How can you, Luce? You knew it was he who 
 threw that orange-peel." 
 
 'Hush! don't let mamma know. He didn't 
 mean it. And it was partly my fault, for making 
 him jealous — spiting him about Victor Degraves. 
 i Tell him, Lulu." 
 
 ' Very well. But I can tell you / wouldn't see 
 him," said Nulma. " Now, I mustn't keep daddy. 
 Do you — do you think I look nice? " 
 
 ;< Lovely! " cried Luce. " There never was any-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 171 
 
 one so pretty as you, Lulu. And I don't — no, I 
 don't feel envious or jealous one bit." 
 
 But poor Luce's voice broke as Nulma ran 
 away. 
 
 The great ordeal of making her entrance, which 
 Nulma had dreaded, was no ordeal at all, for now 
 she seemed to know all the Government House 
 people quite well, even Captain Textor, who did not 
 to-night put her down as a badly-dressed little pro- 
 vincial. White tarlatan skirts, whether put together 
 by a French dressmaker or by Miss Orr, of Vic- 
 toria Street, Leichardt's Town, are bound to look 
 right, when they billow round the slender form of 
 a very beautiful young woman. 
 
 Nulma stepped with the grace of a wild fawn, 
 her head erect, her cheeks flushed, and her brown 
 eyes all aglow with the consciousness that she was 
 being admired. Such a lovely young creature did 
 she appear that the old Governor stepped forward 
 and greeted her with quite paternal warmth, not 
 forgetting the joke he always made now about the 
 bonbons, and a sly injunction to Captain Textor 
 to see that there were two packets ready for Miss 
 Nulma to take home with her. " For I don't be- 
 lieve quite altogether in the sick friend," he said. 
 " I've seen you crunching chocolates, my young 
 lady, as if you liked them very much indeed. And 
 mind, now, you enjoy yourself; and if you don't, 
 tell me, and I'll scold Textor for not arranging 
 things better." 
 12
 
 172 
 
 NUI.MA. 
 
 Lady Arthur, too, had her caressing - pat and 
 approving word, and Lord Arthur his heavy com- 
 pliment. All this was very delightful — more so to 
 James Goodeve than even to Nulma herself. His 
 red face glowed all over with pride and pleasure, 
 and he did not feel shy now of putting out his big 
 hand in its tight white glove to shake that of Mrs. 
 Degraves and the other ladies ranged behind Lady 
 Arthur. Nulma took up her position at the end 
 of the line, and watched Lady Arthur as she went 
 through her duties — for now the general crowd was 
 beginning to arrive — and Nulma wondered in her 
 own mind whether she herself could ever attain to 
 the shadow of that finished grace and fascination of 
 manner, and how anyone could look at any other 
 woman when her hostess was there to be looked at. 
 
 Lady Arthur was certainly at her best this even- 
 ing, her magnificent shoulders gleaming above her 
 low yellow satin dress, with diamonds round her 
 throat and in her crinkly hair, her face just slightly 
 touched up with rouge, and the lustre of her eyes 
 heightened. She had had a little respite from her 
 agonies of martyrdom, for the Chief Justice had 
 been chained to his work, and had made an official 
 trip up the coast, so that there had been no sittings 
 for a fortnight. As a matter of fact, he had hardly 
 seen Nulma since that Sunday when, on the Minis- 
 ter of Mines' invitation, he had gone out to the 
 Bunyas, and had spent a long lazy afternoon and 
 evening lounging about the garden, gathering early
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 173 
 
 mandarin oranges and Cavendish bananas for Nul- 
 ma, and being shown all the girl's favourite nooks 
 and haunts and pets — her young wallabi, her tame 
 emu, Van Vechten's Arab, and the wattle plantation 
 where the fresh shoots were spreading, at the end 
 of the blue-green branches. 
 
 He had determined not to think of her in the 
 interval, or, since she seemed to be always protrud- 
 ing that charming face of hers between his imagina- 
 tion and the subject upon which it should have been 
 at the moment occupied, to think of her only as an 
 entertaining companion for an April afternoon — 
 a pretty, playful child, whom it was an artistic joy 
 to contemplate, and who was destined in due course 
 to become the mistress of that big house in the 
 bend, with its solitary clump of bamboos, and the 
 wife of Caspar Van Vechten. Under this impres- 
 sion of her, forced strenuously upon his mind, she 
 came upon him as she entered in her grown-up 
 ball-gown, holding her big bouquet, with almost 
 a shock of surprise at her newly-acquired womanli- 
 ness. His eyes continually wandered to her, from 
 where he stood among a group of gentlemen quite 
 at the end of the sort of semicircle of which Lady 
 Arthur and the Governor were the centre. 
 
 Lady Arthur, as she bent forward her graceful 
 form in its yellow draperies, and her small foreign- 
 looking head, with its brilliant piercing eyes and 
 hothouse sort of beauty, seemed always interpos- 
 ing between him and the young girl, quelling wild
 
 174 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 fancies and reminding him of the allegiance he had 
 sworn long ago, and which had been renewed when 
 she had offered him his liberty on the deck of 
 the man-of-war. Nulma met his eyes, and the sad 
 look in them troubled and excited her. She was 
 beginning to know always if Kenward was looking 
 at her; to know, even when in a crowd she could 
 not see him, whether he was near her. 
 
 The throng in evening-dress pressed on. The 
 hall was full now. All the people in Leichardt's 
 Town must surely be there. One by one they passed 
 by the Governor and Lady Arthur, and made their 
 greetings. Van Vechten came among the last, 
 and when he had shaken hands with his host and 
 hostess, slipped round beside Nulma. 
 
 ' You haven't forgotten that I'm to have the 
 first dance," he whispered, " though I am such a 
 dreadful old fogey. Nulma, child, do you know 
 that I haven't danced for nearly twenty years? and 
 this is my very first ball in Leichardt's Town?" 
 
 "Not really, Uncle Van?" 
 
 " Yes, quite really. It is in your honour that 
 I have come out of my shell at last. You'll put 
 up with me if I don't know the figures as well as 
 I might, won't you, Nulma?" 
 
 " Why of course, Uncle Van. Perhaps I shall 
 be nervous, and make mistakes too." 
 
 The levee or drawing-room, or whatever it 
 might be called, was over at last. The band in the 
 gallery above struck up. Lady Arthur was carried
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 175 
 
 off by Mr. Degraves, and the Quadrille of State 
 began to form. 
 
 " We won't join that, Nulma," said Van Vech- 
 ten; " we'll seek a retired corner if you don't mind, 
 and will have pity on my confusion." 
 
 Nulma took his arm, but already she found her- 
 self surrounded by a small bevy of men with pro- 
 grammes, one or two in uniforms, but most with 
 black coats and buttonhole bouquets. 
 
 " May I have the pleasure, Miss Goodeve? " 
 from one and then another. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Nulma. And just now another 
 voice interposed, a voice which somehow always 
 thrilled her; it was so different in its clear English 
 enunciation from the voices of all other men she 
 knew. 
 
 " Miss Goodeve, you mustn't fill up your pro- 
 gramme too rashly. Do allow me for a moment." 
 
 The Chief Justice took it from her. Nulma 
 had hardly realized the use of the programme which 
 dangled at the end of her fan till now. When he 
 returned it, she saw that he had written his initials 
 against two waltzes and a set of lancers. 
 
 " Will you let me have these — 3, 7, 10?" 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Nulma. 
 
 u Miss Goodeve, that's too bad, to give away 
 so many." 
 
 It was the Chief Commissioner of Police who 
 spoke. 
 
 " Miss Goodeve, we shall not get our places,"
 
 iy6 NULMA. 
 
 said \'an Vechten. ' Blaizc, have you a vis-a-vis? 
 Come, Nulma." 
 
 And he hurried her off. 
 
 "Afterwards, afterwards!" cried Nulma, nod- 
 ding to the disappointed partners. 
 
 ' Nulma," said Van Vechten, in the interval be- 
 tween the first two figures, " it's very hard to see 
 you carried off by everybody like that. I daren't 
 ask you for a waltz — I'm afraid my dancing powers 
 don't run to that — but you'll sit one out with me, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Why, Uncle Van?" hesitated Nulma. "But 
 it would be such a pity, wouldn't it, to miss a 
 waltz?" 
 
 He laughed at the dejection of her tone. " Of 
 course it would. Never mind, child; if you've got 
 another quadrille left, keep it for me — only if some- 
 body wants it that you don't care to dance with, 
 remember. I don't want to be exacting — and I am 
 to take you in to supper, anyhow; that's all settled. 
 You being a Minister's daughter, must go in to 
 supper with a member of the Upper House. At 
 least, it's all arranged, and you can't get out of it." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Van, I'd rather you took me in to 
 supper than anyone," answered Nulma. 
 
 " And mind, Nulma, we are to have the same 
 sort of compact about the dances, as — as about 
 something else that you and I know of." His voice 
 shook a little, it 'seemed to Nulma, and she won- 
 dered why. ' You are to come and ask me when-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 177 
 
 ever you think you would rather sit out a dance 
 with me than dance it with anyone else who on that 
 particular occasion wants to dance with you. You've 
 only got to intimate your royal wishes, remember. 
 I am always at your service." 
 
 " But, Uncle Van, if you should be going to 
 dance with somebody yourself? " 
 
 " No; I shall not be going to dance with any- 
 one. I don't mean to ask any lady to dance but 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, budgery you, Uncle Van! Now, I do feel 
 proud! and Miss Degraves and all of them will be 
 dying to get you. But isn't it an awful waste of 
 good things to keep yourself like that, only for 
 me?" 
 
 " I don't think so, my dear. In the first place, 
 there might be a question about the 'good things,' 
 mightn't there? As long as you think them good, 
 that's all I care for. And in the second — well, 
 Nulma, to keep myself for you — only for you: the 
 very sound of the. words is sweet to me — is just the 
 one thing in the world that it would make me happi- 
 est to do." 
 
 Nulma's walk round the ballroom after that first 
 quadrille was a sort of triumphal progress, and was 
 in truth rather a slow progress. Every dancing man 
 who didn't know her already wanted to be intro- 
 duced to her, and every one who did wanted to put 
 his name down upon her programme with as little 
 delay as possible. The Chief Commissioner of Po-
 
 I78 NULMA. 
 
 lice got the next dance, which was a galop. And 
 after came Kenward. He had in the meantime ap- 
 proached Lady Arthur. 
 
 ' I can't give yon anything just yet," she said. 
 " I haven't finished my duty." 
 
 ' I know that, and it's why I did not make an 
 effort sooner." He studied his programme. " What 
 do you say to 5, or 6, or 9? " 
 
 ' You pick out the numbers very carefully. 
 Are you so deeply engaged? And are these just 
 the ones you have been good enough to reserve 
 for me? " 
 
 He did not answer a word, but waited. 
 
 " I will give you the next dance," she exclaimed 
 recklessly. " After all, what does it matter? I 
 can't be supposed to waltz with one of those dread- 
 ful Ministers." 
 
 He laughed uneasily. 
 
 " Arthur thinks it would be more dignified in 
 me not to waltz at all," she said. " Oh, what a farce 
 it is! It was as much as I could do to keep from 
 shrieking at the solemn mockery of that drawing- 
 room presentation business — Margot Keefe and her 
 social ambitions to come to that! Well, the music 
 will begin presently. You might take me down 
 there to the staircase-end." 
 
 " I can't, I am sorry to say — can't dance this, I 
 mean. I am engaged." 
 
 "Ah! To Nulma Goodeve?" 
 
 " Yes."
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. 
 
 179 
 
 " I congratulate you on making good use of 
 your opportunities. Would you mind letting me 
 look at your programme? it would be a pity if I 
 hit upon another dance which happened to be hers." 
 
 He gave it to her. She held it close to her nar- 
 rowed eyes. 
 
 " I don't make out the hieroglyph. I suppose 
 it means ' N. G.' Thanks — 7 and 10, I see." 
 
 " What may I book myself to you for? " 
 
 " Nothing. You may give me your arm across 
 the room, if you please. There, to that place by 
 the staircase. . . . Thanks. Now I won't keep 
 you." 
 
 She dismissed him with a bow, and turned 
 pointedly to a good-looking English sugar-planter, 
 whose people she knew something about, and to 
 whom she was now especially gracious. Kenward 
 left her. The sugar-planter did not throw balm 
 upon her wound. 
 
 " Our friend the Chief Justice seems decidedly 
 smitten by that pretty girl," he said. ' Don't you 
 think so, Lady Arthur? Somehow, I did not fancy 
 youth and innocence, and all that sort of thing, were 
 much in his line." 
 
 "Did you not? Why?" 
 
 " Oh, well — he's a man who has lived, hasn't 
 he?" 
 
 " I don't think you can know a great deal about 
 him," replied Lady Arthur, with a smile which only 
 she herself knew to be ironic. She felt no gratitude
 
 s> 
 
 I So NULMA. 
 
 at the moment for this evidence that her own repu- 
 tation was, so far as the sugar-planter's knowledge 
 of it was concerned, quite immaculate. " It is al- 
 ways the men who ' have lived,' as you say, who 
 adore youth and innocence, and — that sort of thing-." 
 He glanced keenly at her, struck by the note 
 of bitterness which she could not conceal, and it 
 occurred to him that he had said a foolish thing 
 and that probably Lady Arthur and the Chief Jus 
 tice had had their tender passages. He remem- 
 bered hearing that they came out in the same ves- 
 sel. No doubt she was jealous of this young Aus- 
 tralian beauty. She divined his thought as quickly 
 as it passed through his mind, and knew that she 
 had betrayed herself. But she was clever enough 
 to counteract the impression, and, bravely putting 
 on her mask, talked soberly of Kenward: wished 
 that he might marry — though, for her own part, 
 she would have preferred that there had been truth 
 in the rumour which gave him to Miss Glassthwaite, 
 the heiress. Had not Mr. Pallavant — that was the 
 sugar-planter's name — heard of Miss Glassthwaite? 
 His people knew her, Lady Arthur was sure, and 
 Miss Glassthwaite was a friend of her own. It 
 would have been delightful if Nora Glassthwaite had 
 been settled in Leichardt's Land during the Gov- 
 ernor's time; and an English wife with good con- 
 nections and money would do more for Outram 
 Kenward than an unformed little Australian, how- 
 ever pretty she might be. And then Lady Arthur,
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BALL. i8l 
 
 in the intervals of her social duties, contrived to at- 
 tach Mr. Pallavant, and started a new martyrdom, 
 in the vain hope of piquing Kenward's waning af- 
 fections. For a woman of the world she showed 
 herself singularly elementary in her tactics. But 
 the woman who is genuinely in love, be she never 
 so thoroughly sophisticated, when she deals in the 
 primitive emotions, deals also in primitive methods.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 
 
 The first ball of every girl is supposed to make 
 an epoch in her life, but this was most especially 
 the case with Nulma. She had never been so ab- 
 solutely happy. The evening was an enchanted 
 one. Looking back upon it, she did not think there 
 was one incident she would have had different — 
 one partner whose name she would have omitted 
 from her programme. Yes, perhaps she would have 
 enjoyed the mazurka she gave Malcolm Derrett 
 better had she danced it with Captain Textor, who 
 had also asked her for it; but she had the satisfac- 
 tion of feeling that she had obeyed Luce's behest, 
 and also that she had administered a sound rating 
 to the young man for his cowardice in not owning 
 up, which no doubt he deserved. 
 
 " I shall own up to Luce herself," said young 
 Derrett sulkily. He was a good-looking boy of 
 two-and-twenty, a clerk in the Auditor General's 
 office. " She knows quite well that I did not mean 
 the thing, and that I no more thought of tripping 
 
 182
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 183 
 
 her — than I just wanted Victor Degraves to 
 
 come a buster; I made sure he was going to dance 
 with the Slade girl, who is a pretty good hand at 
 taking care of herself — in fact, he told me so — 
 and how should I guess that he'd change at the 
 last moment to Luce? Poor little Luce!" 
 
 " Well, I'm glad you are sorry for her," said 
 Nulma. " I know, if I were Luce, I'd have noth- 
 ing more to say to you." And as they went slowly 
 round, she supposed within herself that this sort 
 of thing was what Luce meant by " having beaux," 
 and decided that Malcolm Derrett as a possession 
 would not appeal to her — Nulma — in the least, and 
 hoped that, whatever happened to her, she would 
 at least not come to that. 
 
 The dance with Malcolm Derrett took place 
 towards the end of the evening, and before it she 
 had had her three dances with the Chief Justice. 
 Perhaps they, in addition to her other experiences 
 that evening, helped to raise Nulma's standard as 
 regards " beaux." She reflected that Luce was not 
 in the enjoyment of her privileges. Had such a 
 man as Mr. Kenward ever singled Luce out to be 
 his friend, she could never have stooped to Mal- 
 colm Derrett. 
 
 Kenward danced, as he did most things, well, 
 but he did so with a certain reserve and discretion, 
 and bestowed his favours by no means indiscrimi- 
 nately. Nulma and Miss Degraves were about the 
 only two young ladies whom he led out, a fact ob-
 
 1 84 NULMA. 
 
 served and commented upon by the Leichardt's 
 Town matrons. He danced with stately ease, which 
 made his performance seem a very dignified affair 
 compared with the more jerky prancings of the 
 Bushmen and the Leichardt's Town youths. No 
 one had a step like his, unless it were Mr. Palla- 
 vant the planter, who confined his attentions mostly 
 to Lady Arthur, though he did twice condescend 
 to Nulma. The girl had a little difficulty at first 
 in accommodating herself to Kenward's gliding 
 motion, but he supported her so dexterously, and 
 steered her with such skill and strength, that in a 
 minute or two they were in complete accord. 
 
 " I ought never to dance with anyone but you," 
 she said breathlessly, " if I am to keep in that step. 
 I shall lose it next dance." 
 
 " Oh no, you won't — not if Textor is your part- 
 ner; he's a splendid dancer. Well, I wish you 
 might never dance with anyone but me, Miss Good- 
 eve, only in that case I should be fighting duels, I 
 expect, and that wouldn't be becoming in a Chief 
 Justice." 
 
 Kenward was proud, and took Lady Arthur at 
 her word, not again asking her to dance with him. 
 To her, the evening was one unmitigated pain, 
 though she looked bright enough, played her part 
 bravely, and seemed to be enjoying herself. It was 
 over at last. Nulma, in her conquering radiance, 
 had departed, followed by limp, draggled Mrs. Per- 
 ryman and her husband, to whom Mr. Goodeve
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 185 
 
 had promised a lift home, for it was a great matter 
 to the Perrymans to be saved the price of that re- 
 turn jingle. And Lady Arthur had put on her 
 mask of smiles, and had caressingly asked the girl 
 if she had had a good time. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you!" cried Nulma. 
 " It has been perfect. I have enjoyed myself. I 
 shall never forget my first ball." 
 
 "Have you arranged for any more sittings?" 
 Lady Arthur asked. 
 
 " No; I quite forgot. But I think the picture 
 is nearly finished now — till the wattle comes out. 
 Mr. Kenward is to ride out on Sunday, and I'll ask 
 him then " 
 
 And Lady Arthur turned away smarting with 
 the pain of a dagger-thrust, of which its dealer was 
 quite unconscious. 
 
 " Good-night," said Kenward presently. '' It 
 has been a wondrous success. Everyone is charmed. 
 You ought to be congratulated. You couldn't feel 
 any doubts now," he added in a lower tone, " about 
 doing the right thing by Leichardt's Town. You 
 are pronounced a model hostess." 
 
 He seemed to have forgotten the earlier epi- 
 sode. She answered not a word. Some of the last 
 guests came up with unnecessary fervour to take 
 their leave. There were still a few belated couples. 
 Lady Arthur gave Kenward a look which carried 
 him back two years or more — back to London ball- 
 rooms, to other partings, to tender fingerings when
 
 1 86 NULMA. 
 
 he had waited to take her downstairs and hand her 
 into her hired brougham, perhaps to slip in after 
 her on the pretence of taking a lift. There swept 
 over him a flood of remorseful recollections. 
 
 " You are tired out," he said. " Let me take 
 you into the supper-room and get you some cham- 
 pagne or something." 
 
 She accepted his arm, and they passed along 
 the now empty colonnade, where the flowers and 
 ferns were drooping, and some of the flags twisted 
 awry. She stopped suddenly, as though another 
 impulse had seized her. 
 
 '' No, I won't have anything, thanks. I had 
 better go back; they'll think it odd. Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, then," he answered curtly, and 
 left her. But the next day he got a letter from 
 her — a letter all passionate reproach and tenderness, 
 a letter such as she might have written him in the 
 old days — bidding him go to her. He obeyed the 
 summons. The horses were waiting at the door 
 when he rode up. Everyone rode in Leichardt's 
 Town, and she came down in her habit. 
 
 " Will you ride with me?" said she, quite in her 
 usual tone. " Arthur and Captain Textor are going 
 to look at the new race-course. Arthur wants to 
 run Brunette. We can keep by the river, if you 
 like. The race-course doesn't interest me." 
 
 So they rode together, turning as soon as might 
 be out of town, and taking the road by the river, 
 which lay like a great blue ribbon, just ruffled into
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 1S7 
 
 sparkling wavelets by the west wind that blew 
 across the water, and gave a touch of chill to the 
 air. It was wonderful, that fresh champagny 
 breeze, laden with faint perfumes of winter roses, 
 narcissus and tuberose, and with aromatic whiffs 
 from the gum-forest which spread out on one side 
 of them. It seemed to blow away the rancour and 
 pain, and had a slightly intoxicating effect upon 
 these two sensitive persons, always keenly suscepti- 
 ble to such influences. Lord Arthur and Captain 
 Textor rode ahead, making little detours as the 
 aide-de-camp tried Brunette over fallen logs or 
 paced her over a tiny flat. By-and-by they turned 
 up a side-road towards the race-course, but Lady 
 Arthur, who had watched them out of sight among 
 the thickening gum-trees, deliberately continued in 
 the original direction. They cantered past a little 
 German settlement of Bush huts, set in fields of 
 bananas and pine-apple plantations, but rode slower 
 as they found themselves in a perfectly lonely road, 
 and then both grew confidential. 
 
 She never looked so well as in her riding-habit, 
 and the touch of melancholy tenderness and of 
 veiled penitence in her manner made her particu- 
 larly charming. She was clever enough to say 
 nothing of Nulma at first, or of the jealous fears 
 which tormented her. She talked to him of him- 
 self, of his prospects, of her hopes for him, of the 
 prestige he would gain, and of his return with re- 
 stored constitution to work out a brilliant career 
 13
 
 lS8 NULMA. 
 
 in England. She spoke plaintively of her own lot, 
 of its loneliness; of Lord Arthur's morose ways, 
 as she called them; of her broken nerves, which 
 made her unreasonable and selfish sometimes; of 
 her love for him, the one ruling passion of her life; 
 of the despairing pain it brought her when she 
 recognised its utter hopelessness. 
 
 ' There can only be one ending to that kind of 
 thing, Outram," she said. ' Do you think I haven't 
 calculated it — that I don't grimly face it every day? 
 And as I see it coming nearer and nearer, I feel like 
 the poor wretches they used to imprison in those 
 shrinking iron chambers, which must in the end 
 crush them slowly to death." 
 
 " Margot," said Kenward, " what can I say? 
 What assurances can I give you other than I have 
 already given? Tell me, and I will say or do any- 
 thing that you wish." 
 
 " Give me this assurance, then. It is not a great 
 deal that I ask; but promise me, on your honour, 
 that you will say no decisive words, will ask no girl 
 to marry you, without first telling me frankly of 
 your intention." 
 
 " That's a very easy assurance to give. I prom- 
 ise that, in such an event — which is not at all likely 
 to take place — I will give you full and fair warn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Thank you. Remember, it is a promise — on 
 your honour, Outram," she said, after a pause. 
 " You hurt me last night — horribly."
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 189 
 
 He did not pretend to ignore her meaning. 
 
 " I think you were unreasonable." 
 
 " Probably. Have I not said that I am often 
 unreasonable? But it was the first time since I 
 have known you that a woman stood between me 
 and you." 
 
 "A woman? A child!" 
 
 " Tell me honestly," she went on. " Don't be 
 afraid of hurting me. Have you ever thought of 
 Nulma Goodeve as your wife? " 
 
 " Honestly, I have not. Such a marriage, put- 
 ting everything else aside, would be detrimental to 
 my interests." 
 
 " More detrimental even than — such a bond as 
 ours has been! I don't know. She is very lovely. 
 No one in England would know that she was the 
 daughter of a bullock-driver. I suppose she has 
 money — or will have money. On the whole, I don't 
 know why she shouldn't do as well as Nora Glass- 
 thwaite." 
 
 " You seem to forget, putting other things aside, 
 as I said, that she is engaged, or half engaged, to 
 Van Vechten." 
 
 ' Is she? Pray, who has made you certain of 
 that fact?" 
 
 " She herself. There's a sort of understanding 
 between them, which practically amounts to an en- 
 gagement. Margot, will you do me a favour? Dis- 
 miss that subject once and for ever." 
 
 " Dismiss Nulma Goodeve? That would be dif-
 
 IQO 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 ficult. She has a way of taking the centre of the 
 stage." 
 
 " Unconsciously." 
 
 " Oh, unconsciously, I grant you, at present. 
 By-and-by she will discover for herself that she 
 has in her the elements of drama. No doubt, if you 
 do not teach her, some other obliging and infatuated 
 man will." 
 
 Kenward gave a laugh which puzzled Lady 
 Arthur. She did not ask an explanation, however, 
 and he did not volunteer one. 
 
 All Leichardt's Town agreed that this was the 
 gayest winter that had been known since the colony 
 had been endowed with a Governor, and placed in 
 a position to establish social precedents. The 
 Birthday ball was only the beginning of a series of 
 gaieties. The Ubi Downs Show next took place, 
 the postponement of which had almost made the 
 Government House people unpopular, and fash- 
 ionable, and Ministerial Leichardt's Town departed 
 for those days to that favoured district, ^vhere sun- 
 dry hospitalities were dispensed by the important 
 squatters, and where there were some balls and 
 various daylight gala doings. 
 
 Nulma Goodeve's intimacy at Government 
 House caused her to be included in these festivi- 
 ties, in which she might not otherwise have taken 
 part. The Minister of Mines went up, as a matter 
 of course, his daughter accompanying him. They 
 stayed with one of the squatters — it happened to
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 
 
 I 9 I 
 
 be the house in which the Chief Justice was also 
 quartered— and had an extremely good time gener- 
 ally. Nulma had entirely got over her little fit of 
 depression, and her inclination to fancy that the 
 world was making sport of her and of her father's 
 antecedents. Life to her just now was like a chapter 
 out of one of her most interesting novels, or a per- 
 petual waltz to soul-thrilling music, a waltz with 
 Outram Kenward — that was what the highest ideal 
 of enjoyment came to. 
 
 She had many waltzes with him. By this time 
 she had learned his step to perfection, and he de- 
 clared that there had never been even an English 
 girl so delightful to him as a partner. But even as he 
 made the declaration he had felt a little stab of con- 
 science, remembering certain London dances, and 
 a very particular hunt ball to which he and Lady 
 Arthur Keefe had gone as fellow-guests from the 
 same country-house. He had compounded with 
 conscience, however, on the score that Margot 
 Keefe had never been a girl for him, and that she 
 was not English. Besides which, there was never 
 any suggestion of, or approach to, love-making in 
 his comradeship with Nulma. He took almost 
 more pains than were quite necessary to make it 
 clear to himself, and to her, that he was not a mar- 
 rying man; that Nulma was to him but a beautiful 
 child — a dear little friend, a sort of sister. More- 
 over, that he was very nearly twenty years older 
 than she; though he could hardly count this a bar,
 
 192 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 in the face of the fact which he strenuously main- 
 tained to himself, that she was almost, if not quite, 
 engaged to Van Vechten. 
 
 Under all these conditions, the thoughts of Lady 
 Arthur, of her possible ground for jealousy, did not 
 greatly disturb him. There were many opportuni- 
 ties also on which he might enjoy Nulma's society 
 without danger of causing Lady Arthur uneasiness. 
 According to colonial etiquette, the Government 
 House ladies did not mix with the ordinary herd, 
 and were not in a general way invited to Leichardt's 
 Town parties. Only when important people like 
 the President of the Legislative Council, the Pre- 
 mier, and other such dignitaries, gave a very grand 
 entertainment, Lord and Lady Arthur attended it 
 in a sort of semi-state, and as representing the Gov- 
 ernor, who declared himself too old for gaieties out- 
 side those of Government House and the public 
 balls he was bound to patronize. Occasionally also 
 Lady Arthur paid informal visits to certain people 
 who lived out of town, and had called at the Bun- 
 yas, upon the Degraves, and had taken afternoon 
 tea with Mr. Van Vechten, that she might see the 
 view of the river and town from the Bamboo 
 Hill. But she did not go to any of the ordinary 
 balls and dances, and so, being somewhat out of 
 the run of Leichardt's Town gossip, was not aware 
 how many the Chief Justice attended. Captain 
 Textor was a discreet person, and possibly scented 
 the situation, so that the report current in Leich-
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 
 
 193 
 
 ardt's Town circles, that the Chief Justice was 
 madly in love with Nulma Goodeve, and that the 
 Van Yechten marriage was not likely to come off, 
 did not penetrate within the gates of Government 
 House. Alas for Lady Arthur, however! there 
 were many occasions, public and private, when the 
 attraction of Outram Kenward towards the young 
 Australian girl seemed sufficiently evident. 
 
 Nulma was intensely happy, and she was so 
 gay and so absorbed in her gaieties that she never 
 stopped to think. The clear winter air was like 
 champagne to her. She seemed to be treading on 
 elastic — to be living in a sort of elysium, where all 
 sounds were melody, and life altogether a paean of 
 rejoicing. 
 
 There was a little Parliamentary crisis going 
 on, and her father was obliged to leave her almost 
 entirely to herself. Out of the session it was Mr. 
 Goodeve's habit to spend most of his time after office 
 hours with his daughter, but now that the House was 
 sitting he seldom got home till late in the evening. 
 Van Vechten, too, being a member of Council, 
 though less onerously burdened, had his afternoons 
 taken up, and it came about that Sunday was almost 
 the only day that Nulma was certain to see him. 
 They did not meet at the dances, to which Mrs. Per- 
 ryman usually chaperoned her, as often as Nulma 
 met Kenward, for Van Vechten was known not to 
 be a dancing man, and his long retirement made 
 people shy of asking him. Perhaps also there was
 
 194 NULMA. 
 
 design in his abstention from Nulma's society. He 
 had laid out his part for himself: he would be there, 
 always ready to come forward in her service at the 
 slightest signal from her. When she made no sig- 
 nal, and seemed, as now, to be enjoying herself, 
 going on her conquering way happy without him, 
 he would hold back and bide his opportunity. 
 
 Thus it came about that the most prominent 
 person in Nulma's little world just then was Ken- 
 ward. She realized this when the assizes came on, 
 and when for a short time she saw almost nothing 
 of him. Fortunately, the criminal statistics of Leieh- 
 ardt's Land were low this year — a murder by a 
 black fellow, under circumstances which made pity 
 for the perpetrator, or doubt as to the justice of 
 the penalty, impossible, being the most harrowing. 
 When the assizes were over, the Chief Justice gave 
 himself a holiday in more senses than one. Then 
 he saw a great deal of Nulma. 
 
 Already there had come off that visit to his 
 " diggings " which he had suggested to Nulma. 
 Indeed, the " diggings " had been the scene of two 
 informal bachelor entertainments. On the first oc- 
 casion, all the Government House party which 
 Nulma had been invited to join, including the old 
 Governor himself, had ridden out to Minyando, the 
 Chief Justice's new house, only then it had not had 
 its name changed from that of Mount Stuart, be- 
 stowed by the original occupant. This entertain- 
 ment had necessarily been a little more elaborate
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 
 
 195 
 
 than one which took place later; and the gems of 
 modern art, about which Kenward had spoken to 
 Nulma, and which Lady Arthur knew very well 
 already, had not been brought greatly into evi- 
 dence. The garden, the stables, and the furniture 
 supplied by a Leichardt's Town firm, had been the 
 main points of interest. The Governor, who had a 
 turn for horticulture, and was fond of comparing 
 the tropical products of Leichardt's Land with those 
 of Farnesia, had exhaustively examined the flower- 
 beds; and then they had sipped tea out of Dresden 
 cups — Kenward's extravagance — in the veranda; 
 had all talked more or less generally, Nulma con- 
 tributing least to the conversation; and had ridden 
 back in the dusk, Nulma taking leave of the rest 
 at the gate of the Bunyas. 
 
 However, a fortnight or so later there had been 
 a second tea in the veranda, at which Lady Arthur 
 had not assisted. She had been invited, but per- 
 haps the Chief Justice had known previously that 
 upon this day she was bound to entertain at Gov- 
 ernment House the wife and sister of that squatter 
 who had acted as entertainer to the Governor dur- 
 ing the Ubi Down Show. Lady Arthur had sup- 
 posed that the Chief Justice would postpone his 
 tea-party. But he had not done so. 
 
 Nulma and her father were the only guests, and 
 the saying had been reversed of " the more, the 
 merrier," for in this case the tiny party made much 
 more merriment than the larger one had done.
 
 196 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 Nulma, unoppressed by the influence of elders and 
 superiors, had laughed and chattered like a veritable 
 child of Nature. The mandarin oranges were ripe, 
 and she had gathered and eaten, making the air 
 pungent with aromatic odours as the peel squirted 
 out its essence. Blacks' language had flowed un- 
 rebuked, for Kenward had encouraged it, and had 
 gravely requested her to search the vocabulary for 
 a native name more appropriate to the locality than 
 Mount Stuart. Tea had been drunk in the veranda, 
 the drawing-room inspected again, and the pictures, 
 ivories, and odds and ends which Kenward — a col- 
 lector in an unostentatious fashion — had brought 
 out with him, were exhibited. Finally, the place had 
 been rechristened, and, Kenward solemnly declared, 
 should be known henceforward and for ever as Min- 
 yando. 
 
 It was July now, and a good deal had happened. 
 There had been the " at homes " at Government 
 House. The Degraves had given a large party, and 
 there had been a less pretentious dance at Wirrib in 
 honour of Luce's recovery, for, in spite of all melan- 
 choly prognostications, Luce was herself again, the 
 strain upon the Perrymans' finances in the shape of 
 Dr. Clayton's fees had been removed, and the rival- 
 ry between Malcolm Derrett and Victor Degraves 
 was in full swing. Besides these, there had been 
 many more dances, and there had been riding- 
 parties, picnics, and excursions to the bay in the 
 Government steamer, all calculated to advance the
 
 THE TRIUMPHAL PROGRESS. 
 
 197 
 
 little drama that was being played out. Now there 
 was a great talk being made about a bachelors' ball, 
 which the Chief Justice had been mainly instru- 
 mental in getting up, and which was to take place 
 in the newly-erected School of Arts.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 
 
 Mr. Goodeve was late in getting back from the 
 House that evening. Though the ball had been 
 fixed purposely for a Wednesday, when the Legis- 
 lative Assembly only sat in the morning, there had 
 been obstructional tactics on the part of the Oppo- 
 sition, and the standing orders had been suspended. 
 A general row had been a consequence, and nothing 
 but the fact that most of the bachelors giving the 
 ball belonged to the Legislative Assembly would 
 have caused the House to be adjourned at all. Nul- 
 ma was waiting impatiently, pacing the drawing- 
 room. She was dressed, according to a suggestion 
 of Kenward's, in pale yellow, with a sash the colour 
 of her hair, and a fan and bouquet in which browns 
 and yellow were artfully mingled. 
 
 "By George, we're going it to-night!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Goodeve, proudly surveying his daugh- 
 ter. " We are flash, my word! It's a queer sort of 
 frock, isn't it, Lulu? Whose idea was that? Rather 
 like a tin of Colman's mustard, eh?" 
 
 iq8
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 199 
 
 "Oh, daddy, you are not artistic! It was Mr. 
 Kemvard's," added Nulma demurely. ' He said 
 once he'd like to see me dressed in colours like 
 these, and it was he who thought out the whole 
 thing. Budgery — eh, dad?" 
 
 " Budgery is not the word. And, I say, Lulu, 
 you'll have to drop that ' budgery ' of yours, now 
 you're going about among grand English people. 
 It won't do for them to be calling you the little 
 savage." 
 
 ' It amuses the Governor, dad. They're always 
 asking me to talk Black. Oh, do be quick and dress! 
 The ball will have begun before we leave here." 
 
 Nulma's cheeks were fretted to the real tint 
 of a sun-flushed apricot. In fact, Kenward had 
 ere this conceived the notion of another study of 
 her, to be called " The Apricot Girl." As he saw 
 her come up the ballroom, he murmured to himself 
 involuntarily: "Heavens! how lovely she is! " Her 
 brown eyes, flashing eagerly under the finely-ac- 
 centuated brows and sweep of lash; her thin little 
 nose, perked forward in a sort of wondering joy; 
 her half-parted lips; the backward throw of her 
 head, with its yellow-brown waves of hair; and the 
 upturned curves of her babyish yet decisive chin, 
 all gave her a singularly radiant and triumphant 
 air — the air of one intoxicated with youth and hope, 
 at whose feet lay the world and the glory thereof. 
 
 This impression struck poignantly upon Margot 
 Keefe. From her position on the dais at one end
 
 200 NULMA. 
 
 of the long School of Arts, where the ball was held, 
 she could very well judge of the sensation caused 
 by Nulma's entrance. Just below her stood Van 
 Vechten, who advanced with deliberate eagerness, 
 and not far from him, in the act of descending the 
 two or three steps from the dais, was Kenward. 
 The Chief Justice's sudden halt, as the murmured 
 words of admiration framed themselves, was elo- 
 quent to Margot, and caused her a sickening pain. 
 
 " He is in love with her," the poor woman said 
 to herself. ' If she wanted to make him propose 
 to her, he'd do it to-night. But he's got to keep 
 his promise, he's got to keep his promise," she went 
 on mentally ejaculating. " I wonder if he'll remem- 
 ber." She laughed under her breath — a bitter little 
 laugh. " If he does remember, and keeps it, that 
 will show she is not all-powerful yet." 
 
 ' This is our dance, I believe, Lady Arthur," 
 said the planter, Mr. Pallavant, at her elbow; and 
 she got up and went down with him into the hall, 
 where she saw Kenward with Nulma on his arm. 
 
 Both Van Vechten and the Chief Justice wore 
 the white badges and red camellia buds which 
 marked them out as hosts. They were, indeed, the 
 most important of the bachelors who were giving 
 the ball. Kenward had opened it with Lady Ar- 
 thur, and it was then that the passion of anger 
 which had been smouldering for weeks blazed up 
 as she noticed his preoccupied manner and the 
 anxious looks he kept continually casting towards
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 201 
 
 the entrance. She knew that he was uneasy be- 
 cause Nulma had not arrived. 
 
 " Pray compose yourself," she said at last. " It 
 is not likely that there has been an accident. Per- 
 haps the Minister of Mines was late. I noticed 
 that the windows of the Parliamentary buildings 
 were lighted as we drove by." 
 
 " Oh yes; they are squabbling over the Land 
 Bill," he answered, with an effort to seem uncon- 
 scious of her rasping tone, which emphasized the 
 allusion; but his eyes gleamed sullenly. 
 
 "No; it is the Bill for Supply," she returned. 
 " You betray your agitation. That is neither digni- 
 fied nor complimentary to me." 
 
 " What is it that you mean, Margot? This is 
 unworthy of you." 
 
 " Don't call me Margot! How dare you? how 
 dare you? " 
 
 Her words came in a whisper, but their intensity 
 made them venomous. She moved forward to take 
 her place in the figure. When she faced him again, 
 her lips were set in a smile. 
 
 "Do you remember the Bourdillons' dance?" 
 she asked. ' This night three years ago. The co- 
 incidence of dates seems appropriate, doesn't it?" 
 
 " It had not occurred to me. You have a good 
 memory." 
 
 " A woman generally has — for those things. 
 Your flower reminded me. I had a bouquet of pink 
 camellias — do you remember?"
 
 202 NULMA. 
 
 " Yes, I remember." 
 
 " You made me give you a bud. Do you re- 
 member that, too? You were going to keep it till 
 your dying day. Those were your words. ... It 
 is your turn, I think. . . . We're both a long way 
 off dying, more's the pity — for me, at any rate. 
 Have you asked Miss Goodeve to give you a flower 
 yet to keep till your dying day? But you wouldn't 
 talk such melodramatic trash now." 
 
 He muttered something almost inaudible about 
 " cruelty," and she glided languidly to meet her 
 vis-a-vis. Then came the pause again. She went 
 on, in the same bitter undertone, always with a 
 smile. 
 
 " It's to be a sprig of wattle, isn't it? You won't 
 have long to wait; the buds are thickening. I 
 looked at a shrub in the garden of Government 
 House to-day. Outram, how long did you keep 
 that camellia-bud?" 
 
 " I have it now." 
 
 " Thank you. The statement does you credit. 
 Terjury, we all know, is a matter of honour on oc- 
 casions. It would have been foolish to take you 
 literally. Old flowers, old loves — there can be but 
 one end to them — the dust-heap. . . . Don't you 
 see that Mrs. Degraves is chasseeing to you — a real 
 early Victorian chassee? How delightful! ... I 
 beg a hundred pardons " — to a gentleman next her 
 who had hazarded an observation. ; ' No, the Gov- 
 ernor never dances. What a good effect the poin-
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 203 
 
 settias make! The Governor was saying- that the 
 poinsettias here are quite equal to those in Farnesia, 
 which is right in the tropics, you know." 
 
 And so on through the interminable set. It was 
 after having taken Lady Arthur back to her seat 
 on the dais that Kenward, descending, saw Nulma. 
 
 They danced the first waltz together. This had 
 been an engagement ever since the bachelors' ball 
 was first talked about, and Nulma had fretted her- 
 self into a fever lest she should be late for it. She 
 had looked forward to this waltz with an almost 
 fearful hope. It had begun to dawn upon her lately 
 that she was something more than a plaything to 
 the Chief Justice. To her — she owned it now fear- 
 lessly to herself — he was the king of men. 
 
 The waltz was a disappointment. She had ex- 
 pected to see a smile of delighted approval upon his 
 face. Her dress had been his thought, and she had 
 pranked herself out entirely to win his approval. 
 But he paid her no compliment; his face seemed 
 grim, cold, and pained; the few remarks he made 
 were mechanical. What had she done to offend 
 him? Tears filled her eyes; he felt her step 
 falter. 
 
 "Are you tired? Shall we stop?" he asked. 
 
 " No; please go on." It was better to dance 
 than to run the risk of betraying herself. 
 
 They paused presently, and he drew back with 
 her a little, but not out of the way of the crowd. 
 
 " You have carried out the idea well," he said 
 14
 
 204 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 slowly, looking clown at her dress. " Yon look — 
 jnst as I expected." 
 
 " I was afraid you didn't like it; I'm glad you 
 think it's nice." 
 
 He gave a queer moved little laugh. 
 
 ' It is perfect. You are a dream. I shall always 
 think of you as I see you now — when I think of 
 you in times to come, and we are far apart from 
 each other." 
 
 His words seemed to suggest a leave-taking. 
 She glanced at him with pained bewilderment. 
 
 "You are not— going away?" 
 
 ' There are other kinds of apartness than that 
 which distance makes. Nulma, are you rested? 
 Shall we go on again?" 
 
 He put his arm round her waist, and they fin- 
 ished the dance. Instead of taking her, as she had 
 hoped, along a palm-lined corridor which led to a 
 sort of sitting-out room, he walked with her twice 
 round the hall in the ring of promenaders, and then 
 asked her if she would like to go on the dais. Van 
 Vechten intervened as they were about to mount 
 the steps. 
 
 ' The next is my dance, Nulma ; " and Kenward 
 bowed and withdrew. Just then other young gen- 
 tlemen came up, begging for dances, and Nulma 
 remembered that Kenward had not put his name 
 down upon her programme, and wondered if he 
 did not mean to ask her again. She had never yet 
 been with him at a dance when he had not taken
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 
 
 205 
 
 at least three waltzes. She looked at her card in 
 sickening perplexity. There were only two waltzes 
 left, and these were very low down. 
 
 "May I see your card, Nulma?" said Van 
 Yechten when they had found a seat. He exam- 
 ined the hieroglyphs. The Chief Justice's initials, 
 he saw, were not among them, and there were 
 the two blank spaces. " May I have these? " he 
 asked. 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 ' Yes; and — Uncle Van, if I should want them 
 you won't mind." 
 
 His lips twitched and the heart within him felt 
 sore. 
 
 ' I told you, my dear, long ago to make use of 
 me in that way as in any other," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Van, how good you are! " The 
 girl's eyes were brimming. 
 
 ' What's the matter, child? Are you not en- 
 joying yourself? Has anything gone wrong?" 
 
 " Everything has gone wrong! " exclaimed 
 Nulma impetuously. " I thought I was going to be 
 so happy, and I've done something — I don't know 
 what. It's all different." 
 
 " Different from what you expected. Poor lit- 
 tle Nulma! Can you tell me how, my dear?" 
 
 The girl flushed deeply. 
 
 " No, Uncle Van; don't ask me. Never mind. 
 Let us go back and see the people dancing. It — 
 it's dull sitting here."
 
 2o6 NULMA. 
 
 Ken ward was waltzing with Miss Degraves. 
 Luce Perryman whirled by radiant in the arms of 
 Malcolm Derrett. Lady Arthur glided gracefully 
 round, piloted by Mr. Pallavant. She stopped be- 
 fore Nulma when the dance was over. 
 
 "Come and sit beside me, child; I have not 
 seen you for a week. I want to know what you 
 have been doing. Bring her up to the Gover- 
 nor, Mr. Van Vechten; he wants to look at her 
 dress." 
 
 All the important people — the Ministers' wives, 
 the squatters' wives, the wives of the heads of de- 
 partments even — sat on the dais. Mrs. Perryman 
 was there, and beckoned to Nulma; and Mrs. De- 
 graves gave her a smile and nod. But Lady Ar- 
 thur, breaking from her escort, put her hand within 
 the girl's arm, and led her to the Governor and her 
 husband, who were standing talking to the Minister 
 of Mines. He all the time had been absently watch- 
 ing Nulma. 
 
 " Isn't she delicious — a sweet little ripe apricot 
 growing on a wattle-bough! Doesn't she do credit 
 to her designer? " said Lady Arthur. 
 
 "And who is that?" asked the Governor. 
 " What's the Black for ' perfectly charming,' Miss 
 Nulma?" 
 
 " Cobbon budgery," promptly quoted Nulma. 
 
 " The Chief Justice designed her," said Lady 
 Arthur. " I know his scheme of colouring." 
 
 Something in her tone struck her husband. He
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 207 
 
 looked at her keenly from under his thick, fair 
 lashes. 
 
 "Did he design ball-dresses for you?" 
 
 " Many times — when you were in India. He 
 designed them for Miss Glassthwaite, too, though 
 that is natural enough. Nulma, sit here. Tell me, 
 shall you be at home to-morrow afternoon?" 
 
 "Yes — why, of course, if you want me to be, 
 Lady Arthur." 
 
 " I want you to be at home because I am going 
 to ride out, and because I want to have a quiet chat 
 with you. I've something to tell you — a warning 
 to give," she added in a lower tone. 
 
 "A warning!" repeated Nulma. 
 
 " Yes, my dear little unsophisticated Australian 
 — a warning against sophisticated men of the world. 
 Now you are going to be carried off. How many 
 dances have you given to Mr. Kenward this even- 
 
 ing? " 
 
 " He has not asked me for any, except the first 
 waltz; and I had been engaged to him for that 
 long before," answered Nulma. 
 
 But Kenward came deliberately towards her a 
 dance or two later. 
 
 " Miss Goodeve, may I have the honour of dan- 
 cing another waltz with you?" She held out her 
 programme to him with a reproachful shake of her 
 head. "Filled up! I might have expected that, 
 and I'm afraid I deserve it for not having secured 
 you sooner. But one has duties this evening," he
 
 208 NULMA. 
 
 added indistinctly. ' I must throw myself on your 
 mercy. Is there really nothing that you can give 
 me?" 
 
 She pointed to one of those against which 
 " C. V. V." were written. 
 
 ' I don't think Mr. Van Vechten would mind." 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't quite believe that ; but I will 
 take them both thankfully." He handed her back 
 the programme, having scribbled his initials over 
 the others, and his eyes met hers with a fierce, trou- 
 bled look, that thrilled and made her happy once 
 more. ' You are very sweet and true. Forgive 
 me, Nulma," he murmured. 
 
 Oh yes, he was forgiven. It would have needed 
 worse wrong than that to make her implacable to- 
 wards him. And yet the child's pride was wounded 
 — her heart was bitter. He should see that she was 
 not a mere toy — that she was something more than 
 a sprig of wild wattle, to be plucked and thrown 
 aside. 
 
 She was very silent during the waltz. No, she 
 did not want to rest; she was not tired — not the 
 least bit — she could dance on all night. And when 
 it was over, she did not want, either, to sit down, 
 and she thought Uncle Van, who was to take her in 
 to supper, would be waiting for her; and so would 
 Mr. Kenward take her back, please, to daddy or 
 Mrs. Perryman? 
 
 The second waltz was three lower. Some of 
 the elder people had gone, the Governor among
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 
 
 209 
 
 them. Captain Textor had gone with him. Lord 
 Arthur remained with Lady Arthur, for whom the 
 carriage was to return. She was dancing more 
 than usual to-night. 
 
 It happened after supper. Perhaps that had 
 something to do with the sudden impulse that over- 
 came the Chief Justice. An hour before he had be- 
 lieved himself firmly steeled in the resolve that 
 Nulma should never know he loved her. He had 
 been tempted, but he had repelled temptation. For 
 weeks he had been drifting on, not allowing himself 
 to realize his position. To-night, his keen anxiety 
 at her non-appearance, his emotion at the sight 
 of her, and, above all, Lady Arthur's reproaches, 
 had brought it with overwhelming force before 
 him. He told himself that there was but one 
 woman to whom he was in honour bound — " hon- 
 our rooted in dishonour," he bitterly quoted in his 
 thoughts — but none the less did the shackles of his 
 old love hold him. While she remained at Govern- 
 ment House he must put the notion of marriage 
 out of his mind. It was of no use to argue that 
 she had practically released him — that she herself 
 recognised the injustice of chaining him for life to 
 a hopeless passion. It was as vain to assert that 
 the passion was dead, the mad fever over — that she 
 had no right to claim him as her bond-slave any 
 longer. He was her slave, notwithstanding, and he 
 could not be Nulma's husband. 
 
 Ah, but the dream had been sweet! To clasp
 
 210 NULMA. 
 
 that young, fresh, beautiful creature in his arms; 
 to start life anew, rebaptized in the waters of her 
 pure affection; to have the prospect, now as middle 
 age was advancing, of dear interests and responsi- 
 bilities; of a home gladdened by wife and children 
 — this seemed to him as the vision of an impossible 
 paradise; and the angel at the gate, forbidding, took 
 the shape of a pale, smiling, hothouse-flower woman 
 in yellow and diamonds, with long eyes gleaming 
 between narrowed lids, and parted, crinkly hair — 
 the shape of Margot Keefe. 
 
 It seemed to Nulma, too, that she and Kenward 
 were whirling together in a drama. She had a dim 
 consciousness of Van Vechten's eyes following her 
 sadly, and of something fierce and disquieting in 
 those of Lady Arthur, which she surprised con- 
 tinually as she flew past the dais. Kenward mur- 
 mured to her as they waltzed in wild half-sentences, 
 which said little and yet told so much. Before the 
 music stopped, as she hung dizzily upon his arm 
 while they were drawing back through the crowd, 
 he turned abruptly down the palm-decorated pas- 
 sage, and, following it beyond the flag-draped door- 
 way into a sitting-room, brought her on to a veran- 
 da, screened by creepers from the roadway, and 
 dimly lighted by one or two Chinese lanterns. 
 
 " Nobody has found this out yet," he said; " we 
 have it all to ourselves. Nulma — ■ — -" 
 
 He uttered her name with a tender inflexion 
 in his voice, and paused, as though he were afraid
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 211 
 
 of himself. She withdrew her hand from his arm, 
 and stood, her head bent a little over her bouquet, 
 which she held up in her two hands. Her atti- 
 tude was child-like, yet full of a certain native 
 dignity. 
 
 " I have never truly known till now how sweet 
 you are," he exclaimed, and for a moment put his 
 hand upon hers which clasped the bouquet. " If I 
 only dared to say to you what is in my heart." 
 
 " Is it so difficult to speak? Why are you 
 afraid? " She laughed, but her voice trembled. 
 
 " It would not be difficult, if I could put the 
 clock back ten years, so that I should stand ten 
 years nearer to you. Then I should not be afraid. 
 Now I am afraid, because I am not fit to ask for 
 your love — because I have no right " 
 
 " No," she interrupted, her voice deepened by 
 a girl's innocent passion and wounded pride; " I 
 know it isn't that. It's because you think I have 
 no right to go into your world — because you think 
 I'm not fit. I'm only, what you called me, a sprig 
 of Bush wattle, that you like to play with for a little 
 while, and that, when you are tired of it, you can 
 throw away. Oh! I understand very well, Mr. 
 Kenward. I think I've got wiser about some things 
 since I've known you — and Lady Arthur." 
 
 Her unconscious coupling of him with the 
 other woman was again to him like the pain of a 
 sting. 
 
 " No; you don't understand. How could you
 
 212 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 understand? Don't you know how high I rate you? 
 Don't you know that to accuse me of any such be- 
 littling thought of you is unjust, cruel?" 
 
 " I did not know. I only know that daddy and 
 I are different, and — and, it doesn't matter." 
 
 " It does matter. It matters all the world to 
 me, anyhow, that you should at least do me justice, 
 Nulma. The truth was forced home upon me when 
 I saw you come into the ballroom this evening, so 
 radiant in your loveliness and your innocent girl- 
 hood." 
 
 "The truth?" 
 
 " That I cannot tell you — that I must not tell 
 you — to-night. But to-morrow " 
 
 " It is already to-morrow," Nulma answered. 
 " Listen." 
 
 The clock above the School of Arts was ringing 
 out three. 
 
 " To-day, then, I will tell you, but not now. 
 This afternoon I'm coming out to the Bunyas. I'm 
 coming to see if the wattle is yet nearly in bloom. 
 This is August 12, child, and the eighteenth is your 
 birthday. On your birthday, you said, the wattle 
 was always out." 
 
 Nulma gave a little shy laugh. 
 
 " See, I wanted to show you this before, but you 
 wouldn't let me think you cared. I gathered it 
 to-day." 
 
 She held out her bouquet, and, parting the yel- 
 low rosebuds and the sprigs of jasmine and orange
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 
 
 213 
 
 azalea of which it was composed, showed buried 
 in the centre a little sprig of fluffy wattle. She 
 drew it half out from its hiding-place. 
 
 " Give it to me, Nulma," he said. " Give it to 
 me in token of something sweeter still, to keep till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Nulma flushed deeply. She hesitated a moment, 
 then simply held the sprig to him. Her brown eyes 
 met his straightly. Kenward felt that he should 
 never forget that look — it had the utter candour, the 
 pathetic appeal, of a dog's eyes when he looks at 
 his master. 
 
 He took the sprig of wattle, and was senti- 
 mental enough to touch it with his lips before he 
 transferred it to his breast-pocket. Just then, the 
 rustle of silk which had been intermittently sound- 
 ing along the corridor, mingling with the distant 
 blare of the band, gave place to a mocking little 
 laugh which Kenward knew; and then a voice, 
 which he knew too, spoke. 
 
 " She is here, you see, Mr. Goodeve; if you 
 want to march off with your prey, you shall hand 
 me over to Mr. Kenward, who will see me safe back. 
 Arthur is getting impatient, and the carriage is wait- 
 ing." 
 
 Margot Keefe advanced. Kenward stood mo- 
 tionless as a criminal detected in his crime. Mar- 
 got's eyes flashed at him for an instant before she 
 addressed the young girl. Nulma turned to her 
 with that rapt, confiding look still in her brown
 
 214 NULMA. 
 
 eyes. Lady Arthur felt that she could interpret 
 the look. 
 
 ' We have been hunting for you, my dear. I 
 wanted to ask you, before I go, whether it will suit 
 you as well if I come for luncheon to-morrow, in- 
 stead of later. Arthur has made some plan with 
 the Governor for us to go and see the new water- 
 works in the afternoon?" 
 
 ' Why, of course Nulma will be delighted," put 
 in Mr. Goodeve. " All times are alike to her. I 
 wish I could be at the Bunyas to do the honours, 
 Lady Arthur; but you must take the girlie as she 
 is, and they'll give you something to eat, anyhow. 
 You might ask Mrs. Perryman to come across, 
 Lulu." 
 
 "Oh, not for worlds!" interrupted Lady Ar- 
 thur. " I have the greatest respect for Mrs. Perry- 
 man, but it's Nulma I want to have a chat with. 
 Then, about twelve, for I must get away directly 
 after luncheon." 
 
 ' Thank you," replied Nulma mechanically. 
 " Oh yes ; that will do beautifully." What did any- 
 thing matter — up to the afternoon? Her sun would 
 not rise till about five o'clock. 
 
 ' Lulu," said the Minister of Mines, " you must 
 come along directly. I've lost my beauty-sleep; and 
 I've got to be at the office pretty early to-morrow, 
 and we shall be having an all-night sitting in the 
 House, most likely. Besides, they'll be playing 
 ' God save the Queen ' here in a minute or two."
 
 THE SPRIG OF WATTLE. 21 5 
 
 " They won't be so rude as to play it till I've 
 gone," said Lady Arthur. " But it's time for good 
 little girls to be in bed, and for naughty grown 
 women too. Mr. Kenward, do you mind taking 
 me back to the ballroom? I've something I want 
 to say to you before we go." 
 
 Kenward bowed without a word. 
 
 " Then, good-night. Lady Arthur. I'm sure I'm 
 very much obliged to you for all your kindness!" 
 said the Minister of Mines. " Say good-night, Lulu. 
 Good-night, Chief Justice." 
 
 Nulma put out her hand to Lady Arthur, and 
 murmured something about expecting her on the 
 morrow. Then she turned to Kenward. 
 
 "Good-night!" 
 
 "Good-night!" he answered. Lady Arthur 
 watched the lingering contact of the fingers. " I 
 shall see you to-morrow," he added. 
 
 Nulma and her father left the balcony. The 
 other two remained facing each other for a moment 
 or two in silence. Lady Arthur spoke first. 
 
 " So the end has come; and I go — to the dust- 
 heap! " she said.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 
 
 Kenward gazed miserably at his companion. 
 Under such circumstances, the man's position must 
 always be abject. He stands self-convicted, a per- 
 jurer, a traitor to sworn allegiance. 
 
 ' Margot," he said, " I know that you look upon 
 me as wholly false and contemptible. I have noth- 
 ing to put forward in extenuation of myself except 
 this: The position had become impossible, and you 
 recognised it to be so when you offered me my 
 freedom." 
 
 ' Which you refused to accept, with some ten- 
 der protestations. It's true, then; the legitimate 
 has conquered, as it always does in the long-run. 
 Do you mean to tell her — about me?" 
 
 ; ' Margot, you need not put more daggers into 
 me than are actually necessary. . . . Nothing is set- 
 tled," he added. ' I don't even know that she cares 
 for me." 
 
 " Oh, is that all? I am glad, at any rate, that 
 you have had the decency to give me notice of my 
 
 216
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 
 
 217 
 
 discharge. I wondered if you would remember 
 your promise." 
 
 " I have not asked her to marry me, if that's 
 what you mean," he answered; " I will not do so 
 if you forbid it." 
 
 " Thank you ; I have no voice in the matter. 
 You have made your choice. I trust that the Fates 
 may send you happiness." 
 
 " It would be more to the purpose, perhaps, if 
 you invoked the Fates on her behalf," he said bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " Or on poor Mr. Van Vechten's; he is the per- 
 son outside myself whom I pity most in the con- 
 cern. Now, Mr. Kenward, will you take me back 
 to my husband? " 
 
 ; ' Margot, do we part like this; will you not say 
 one kind word to me — one word of forgiveness? 
 Let us at least be friends." 
 
 " Friends! " she repeated in scorn. " How like 
 a man! No, we are not friends; we never have 
 been; we never shall be. From the day that you 
 become Nulma Goodeve's acknowledged lover, 
 there will be a great gulf fixed between you and 
 me. And all the years of my life will have been 
 swallowed up in that gulf — the years of my life, and 
 everything that made them worth the living." 
 
 He gave a low groan. 
 
 " / have done this thing to you." 
 
 ' You, and none other. This was not the end- 
 ing you contemplated, was it, when you asked me
 
 2i8 NULMA. 
 
 for that camellia bud at the Bourdillons' ball three 
 years ago? I saw her give you the bit of wattle; 
 but that's only to be kept till to-morrow. Well, I 
 was wiser than you ; 1 knew what I was doing. 
 For me, the spectre stood always there in the back- 
 ground — even in the good days — the spectre of the 
 young girl. And I have watched it creep nearer 
 and nearer, till I have seen and known that it was 
 Nulma. . . . Come, there's no use in talking, and 
 Arthur will be wondering. It would be a pity if he 
 were to become melodramatic now; that would in- 
 deed be an anticlimax." 
 
 She put her hand on his arm, and they walked 
 back to the ballroom in perfect silence. Lord Ar- 
 thur was watching for them, a sullen scowl on his 
 heavy face. He made no remark to Kenward, but 
 almost roughly took possession of his wife. They 
 went home alone in the carriage, and all the way 
 he never spoke a word. But whether she looked 
 at him or not, she was conscious of his eyes with 
 that dull, ferocious gleam in them, which of late 
 had got more and more on her nerves. It fright- 
 ened her. 
 
 She lay awake till the sun rose, calm and des- 
 perate in her desolation; she felt that she did not 
 care what happened, so long only that Nulma did 
 not become Outram Kenward's wife. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 There was, however, nothing tragic in Lady 
 Arthur's appearance or manner when, dressed in
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 219 
 
 her riding-habit, a bunch of violets pinned into her 
 bodice, her gold-mounted whip in her hand, she 
 stepped on to the veranda of the Bunyas. Nulma 
 was coming in from the plantation, carrying 
 some branches of wattle. She looked very spring- 
 like in a white dress, with only a gauzy hand- 
 kerchief on her head. The sun was bright, the 
 day hot for August, and the roses on the 
 veranda were in bloom, while the deutzia was 
 putting forth its little white spires, and the heavy 
 bunya branches were flecked with buds of shining 
 green. 
 
 " Look," said Nulma, showing her wattle; " I 
 have never known it out so early before." 
 
 " Then Mr. Kenward will now be able to finish 
 the picture," rejoined Lady Arthur. " No, my dear, 
 I don't think I'll come in; it's pleasanter sitting 
 here, and I shall keep my veil down, if you please," 
 as Nulma offered to untie the gauze veil twisted 
 round her riding-hat. " I can't afford, like you, to 
 defy the ravages of a late night, and I'd rather 
 not exhibit myself a battered wreck, with nothing 
 between me and the light of day." 
 
 " Why, Lady Arthur, you don't look in the least 
 bit battered, and you have more colour than usual. 
 There's no one so beautiful as you," said Nulma, 
 in frank admiration. 
 
 " Except a certain little girl, who possesses what 
 I have lost for ever — youth, freshness, and wild- 
 flower charm. That's what appeals, especially to 
 15
 
 220 NULMA. 
 
 a man like Outrani Kenward, who has lived his life 
 among women of the old-world conventional type, 
 and finds change refreshing for a time." 
 
 Nulma flushed uneasily. Lady Arthur's words 
 and tone grated. 
 
 "Why do you say that about Mr. Kenward?" 
 she asked in a low voice. 
 
 " Because we are old friends, and I am inter- 
 ested in him, and anxious that his career may be 
 successful. He had the prospect of great things 
 if his health had not broken down. He would have 
 had a seat in the House; he might have risen be- 
 fore very long, perhaps, to a seat in the Cabinet. 
 He would have married a rich and well-born woman. 
 He may do all this still — when he returns to Eng- 
 land." 
 
 Lady Arthur spoke very deliberately. She had 
 seated herself in a deep squatter's chair and leaned 
 back, the light gauze veil obscuring her features, 
 except the brilliant eyes, which turned with slow 
 restlessness from one object to another, lying in 
 wait, as it were, between her half-opened lids. As 
 she spoke, she pulled to pieces a bit of wattle Nulma 
 had brought in, casting one downy ball after an- 
 other upon the floor. The action pained the girl, 
 and she made an involuntary movement to protect 
 the remaining clusters. But Lady Arthur stretched 
 out her hand as soon as she had destroyed one 
 spray, and took another, which she began to shred 
 in its turn. Nulma could bear it no longer. She
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 221 
 
 gathered up the wattle in her hands and held it on 
 her lap. 
 
 Lady Arthur suddenly bent a long, searching 
 look upon Nulma. 
 
 " My dear child, I am very much interested 
 in you also. I should be so sorry if you were made 
 unhappy." 
 
 ' Will you tell me, please, what you mean? " 
 
 " You mustn't be angry with me. I am years 
 older than you are. I know the world. I know 
 men. What is more to the point, I know Outram 
 Kenward. I know that his ruling passion is ambi- 
 tion, and that if in a moment of impulse he were 
 led into a step likely afterwards to injure his career, 
 he would repent it as long as he lived." 
 
 Nulma fluttered like a bird trapped. " I don't 
 know why you should say that to me. I am not 
 likely to do anything which could injure Mr. Ken- 
 ward's career." 
 
 " No, dear," said Lady Arthur cruelly. " He 
 is more likely, I'm afraid, to injure yours. Every- 
 one can see that he is greatly attracted by you; 
 and what is more likely than that you should be 
 flattered by his attentions, and that you should 
 grow to care for one so brilliant and so well versed 
 in the art of charming. But that would be such 
 a sad pity, Nulma." 
 
 " Would it be a pity," murmured the girl, " if he, 
 too, cared? " 
 
 " Yes, it would still be a terrible pity. Beauti-
 
 222 NULMA. 
 
 ful and delightful as you are, child, you are too 
 young", too unsophisticated, to hold him when the 
 novelty had worn off — that is, if he were free to ask 
 you to marry him." 
 
 ' Free! " Nulma remembered Kenward's words 
 at the ball, " I cannot tell you ... I must not tell 
 you to-night." Had they meant that he was, as 
 Lady Arthur insinuated, bound to another woman? 
 And if so, how then could he be free to tell her of 
 his love to-day? She had not thought much of his 
 words at the time; she had been too deeply ab- 
 sorbed in the sweet sudden conviction that he loved 
 her. Now the words and the image they evoked 
 seemed luridly illuminated in her imagination. Her 
 beseeching eyes vaguely interrogated Lady Ar- 
 thur. 
 
 ' He has not told you? But, of course, how 
 should he? He was not free when he left England. 
 He was bound to a woman whom he loved, and 
 who loved him. I am very sorry for that other 
 woman. I know her, and I know the blow his 
 faithlessness would be to her. I am very sorry 
 for him, too, because I know that in his deepest 
 heart he loves that other woman, and would always 
 regret having lost her." 
 
 There was silence. Lady Arthur finished the 
 destruction of her wattle spray. She plucked off 
 the last tiny unfledged ball and cast the stalk away 
 on to the gravel path beyond the veranda. She 
 had a savage satisfaction in the fancy flashing
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 
 
 223 
 
 through her mind, that the act was typical of an- 
 other work of destruction just accomplished. 
 She had ruthlessly plucked away all the tender 
 buds of a love newly blossoming in a young 
 girl's heart, and had deprived a woman's life 
 of that which should be its crowning joy and 
 sweetness. 
 
 She stretched forward and patted the girl's hand, 
 but Nulma shrank from the touch, her old half-feel- 
 ing of antagonism against Lady Arthur stirred to 
 a fierce-flaming repulsion. What right had the 
 woman to come here and taunt and humiliate 
 her so? 
 
 " I have told you the truth, my dear," said Lady 
 Arthur softly. ' I don't pretend it is as much for 
 your sake as for his, and for the sake of that other 
 woman who has a prior claim upon him; but 
 it is greatly for your sake, too, and because I 
 think it right that the truth should be known to 
 you." 
 
 Then Nulma showed that, of whatever poor, 
 plebeian stuff she might be made, it was at least 
 not coward's stuff. She got up, drawing her tall, 
 slim form to its full height, and lifting her little 
 stag-head, with its straight, proud look, out above 
 and beyond her tormentor. 
 
 ' Thank you, Lady Arthur. You are very good ; 
 and I am sure that Mr. Kenward ought to be very 
 much obliged to you, and that other lady, too. 
 But, you see, it hasn't mattered in the least, for Mr.
 
 224 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 Kenward had never made love to me at all; 
 and if he had, it would not have made any dif- 
 ference to me, because— I ought to have told 
 you — I am engaged to be married to Mr. Van 
 Vechten." 
 
 ' Brave baby! " murmured Lady Arthur to her- 
 self. 'That was well done." And aloud: "I con- 
 gratulate you, dearest Nulma, with all my heart. 
 There is no one in Leichardt's Land I like so much 
 and respect so truly as Mr. Van Vechten. You will 
 be very happy." 
 
 ' Yes ; I shall be very happy," repeated Nulma 
 a little wildly. " I think, if you don't mind, that 
 I'll put the wattle in water, as it withers so soon, 
 and then I'll go and wash my hands for luncheon. 
 I was gardening when you came, and it must be 
 luncheon-time now." 
 
 She left Lady Arthur in the veranda, went 
 straight to the old schoolroom at the back of the 
 house, where she always arranged her flowers, put 
 the wattle into a vase, and carried it into the draw- 
 ing-room. Then she went back again into the 
 schoolroom, sat down, and prepared to write. She 
 sat a moment with her pen poised, and a great 
 wave of pain swept over her, shaking her whole 
 body in inward sobbing. She hardly knew how 
 to bear the agony, and fought with it as for 
 dear life, crushing down the choking pain which 
 seemed to take away her breath. " I must 
 not — I must not," she kept saying to herself, and
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 225 
 
 then dashed off her note. It had no formal be- 
 ginning. 
 
 " I want to see you. I must see you, as soon, 
 please, as you can come — before four. Please come. 
 — Nulma." 
 
 This she directed to Caspar Van Vechten at 
 his office, and took out to the stable-yard, bidding 
 her father's groom ride at once with it to Leichardt's 
 Town. 
 
 Luncheon was on the table when she went back, 
 having also washed her hands, smoothed her hair, 
 and endeavoured as far as she could to hide the 
 traces of that recent horrible pain, which remained 
 still upon her face, and gave it a curiously wan and 
 tense look, out of keeping with its girlish contours. 
 To her relief, Luce Perryman was sitting in the 
 veranda with Lady Arthur. Luce had not been in- 
 vited, but invitations to meals were not necessary 
 formalities between Wirrib and the Bunyas, and 
 Luce was very much in the habit of running in to 
 share Nulma's luncheon when she felt in a mood 
 for a gossip. She would have run away now, for 
 she was afraid of Lady Arthur, but Nulma insisted 
 upon her remaining. 
 
 They talked mostly of the ball, of the decora- 
 tions, of the dresses, Luce shyly referring to Lady 
 Arthur, Nulma chattering with the audacity of des- 
 peration. Very soon Lady Arthur ordered her
 
 226 NULMA. 
 
 horse and bade the girls farewell, kissing Nulma, 
 and whispering as she did so: 
 
 ' Is it a secret, my dear, or may I tell the Gov- 
 ernor? He will be so interested." 
 
 ' Not quite yet, please. Everybody will know 
 it very soon, but not quite yet." 
 
 ' Very well. You shall come, then, yourself 
 and tell the Governor; I shall write to you and 
 fix a day for luncheon, and perhaps for the last sit- 
 ting, now that the wattle is out." 
 
 The two girls were alone. Nulma took long 
 strides up and down the veranda, walking like one 
 possessed. 
 
 ' What is it, Lulu? " cried Luce anxiously. 
 ' What is the matter with you? You look queer, 
 somehow. And what did Lady Arthur mean? 
 What is it that you are to tell the Governor your- 
 self? Oh, my goodness, Lulu! " she called out, for 
 the girl would not pause in her wild walk. " It isn't 
 
 — they were saying last night Oh, Lulu, you're 
 
 not engaged to the Chief Justice, are you? You'd 
 have surely told me before anybody else? " 
 
 ; ' No, no, no! " shrieked Nulma. " And for what 
 should I tell you first? Why should I tell you any- 
 thing? Go away, Luce. I don't want to talk to-day. 
 I want to be by myself." 
 
 "Something has happened!" exclaimed Luce. 
 
 ' I know it. And you look as if for two pins you'd 
 
 burst out crying . . . and you won't tell me whether 
 
 you're engaged or not. I think it's awfully unkind,
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 227 
 
 Nulma, when I came over here this morning ex- 
 pressly to tell you " and Luce blushed, and 
 
 hung her untidy flaxen head. 
 
 " What — that you are engaged, is it? I guessed 
 as much last night. Malcolm Derrett, I sup- 
 pose? " 
 
 " You know it couldn't be anyone but Malcolm. 
 It was last night. And mother is so angry, and 
 says I must be silly to think of marrying a bank 
 clerk on a hundred and fifty pounds a year; and 
 that it's throwing away my chances, when there's 
 you that everyone says has managed to catch the 
 Chief Justice." 
 
 " Luce, be silent!" cried poor tortured Nulma. 
 " You are wrong; and it's an insult to me for people 
 to be saying such things. Go away. Oh, I don't 
 mean to be unkind. I'm sure that I congratulate 
 you — on Malcolm Derrett. I'm glad you are so 
 fond of one another. But I've got other things to 
 think of now, and I want to be alone." 
 
 Luce departed angry and aggrieved. 
 
 " I don't know what's come over you, Nulma," 
 she cried in sobbing reproach. " It's ever since 
 you've been taken up and spoiled by all that Gov- 
 ernment House lot; and now you haven't a word 
 for your old friends." 
 
 But Nulma went on unheedingly. 
 
 She was still pacing the veranda like some rest- 
 less, wounded creature when Van Vechten rode up. 
 He had lost no time in answering her summons.
 
 228 NULMA. 
 
 He dismounted, and, calling the groom to take the 
 horse, went up to her, startled by something un- 
 usual in her face and expression. Nulma gave a 
 little cry, and put her hands in his, leading him into 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Van, it was like you to come at 
 once! " 
 
 " Of course I have come at once. Don't you 
 know that I would fly to the end of the world if you 
 sent for me? What is it, Nulma, my child? My 
 little darling, what can I do for you?" 
 
 " You can marry me, Uncle Van. That's what 
 I want; that's what I've sent to you for. I want 
 you to say that you'll marry me." 
 
 " Nulma, this isn't a joke, is it? What do you 
 mean? Why send for me in such a strange, wild 
 way to tell me — that? Child, has anything hap- 
 pened to you? Speak, Nulma. Tell me, has any- 
 one hurt or insulted you? " 
 
 " Yes; I've been hurt, Uncle Van — I've been 
 insulted. No; I don't suppose she meant that. 
 Don't ask me; it doesn't matter now." 
 
 "She! There's a woman in it, then? Well, I 
 will ask you nothing that you'd rather not tell; 
 only don't play with me, Nulma, my dear. That 
 hurts, too." 
 
 " I'm not playing with you, Uncle Van. I 
 wouldn't hurt you for the whole world; I care for 
 you too much." 
 
 With a quick, passionate movement Van Vech-
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 
 
 229 
 
 ten lifted up her two hands, and held them crushed 
 against his breast. 
 
 " Nulma," he said, " don't tell me things like 
 that unless you mean them, my dear. If you do 
 mean that, you make me very happy." 
 
 " Of course I mean it. I sent for you in such 
 a hurry because there isn't much time, because I 
 want to be able to say this afternoon that I'm going 
 to be your wife. I've said it already. I've told Lady 
 Arthur. You won't throw me over now, Uncle 
 Van? You promised " 
 
 "I promised!" he repeated bewilderedly. 
 
 "Ah! don't you remember? We both prom- 
 ised. You said that if I should ever find out that 
 I wanted to marry you, and were to come to you 
 and tell you frankly, you'd take me, and be the 
 proudest, happiest man on earth. Those were your 
 words, Uncle Van. And so I do now come to you 
 frankly, and tell you that I want to marry you. 
 Won't you keep your promise? You didn't make 
 any conditions; it was to be a bargain between us. 
 Won't you take me? " 
 
 ' Yes, I will keep my promise, Nulma. I will 
 take you as my wife under any, every, or no 
 conditions. I shall be the happiest and proud- 
 est man on earth. I shall love you till my 
 dying day, and I will do my best to earn your 
 love." 
 
 ' Thank you, Uncle Van." His solemnity awed 
 her, and there was a pledge in her brown eyes. " I,
 
 !30 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 too, will do my best to be a true and loving wife 
 to you," she answered. 
 
 " Nulma," he said, still with great solemnity, 
 " do you know what it means — this marrying, this 
 giving of yourself for life to one man, and one man 
 only? For life, Nulma, remember." 
 
 " Yes," said the girl sadly ; " I know now what 
 it means. I didn't quite before when you asked 
 me; I do now." 
 
 Her tone stirred a new dread in him, which he 
 knew would ever stand between him and her. The 
 dread forced him to speak. 
 
 " Nulma, there were to be no conditions, and I 
 make none. I only beg you to tell me whether you 
 are doing this because you have chosen me from 
 all other men as the one you most care for — the 
 one you trust most implicitly; or whether it is out 
 of some womanish impulse — pique, perhaps — be- 
 cause some other man whom you do love has 
 wounded your pride and treated you badly? Tell 
 me, Nulma." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Van. I'll tell you that I do care 
 for you, and that I trust you beyond any other man 
 in the world. Is that enough?" 
 
 " It is enough. And so I take you, Nulma, for 
 my promised wife." He put his arms round her, 
 and, drawing her close to his breast, kissed her on 
 her lips long and tenderly; he drew her to the sofa 
 and made her sit by him. " Nulma," he said, 
 " from to-day our relation towards each other is a
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 23 1 
 
 totally different one. We shall never be the same 
 again." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Van." 
 
 There was something to him inexpressibly sweet 
 in the shy movement by which she marked her 
 sense of the new relation, putting her hand softly 
 on his, and then on the dangling seal and pencil- 
 case which hung from his watch-chain, which she 
 played with timidly. 
 
 "Is that your crest, Uncle Van?" 
 
 " You mustn't call me Uncle Van any more, 
 dearest; it isn't natural now." 
 
 "What shall I call you?" 
 
 " By my name — Caspar. Say it, Nulma." 
 
 "Caspar. It's a nice name; I like it. Caspar 
 Van Vechten. I shall be Nulma Van Vechten. 
 That's prettier than Nulma Goodeve." 
 
 " / shall certainly think it so, my dear." 
 
 " Caspar, there's something I want you to do 
 for me. Will you do it? " 
 
 " I'll try." 
 
 " I wan't you to persuade daddy to go away 
 for a change, and to take me with him. There's 
 the Intercolonial Congress now at Melbourne. 
 They asked him to go, and he was talking about 
 it the other day; and I said I'd rather stay here, 
 and so he decided to refuse; but I'd like to go. 
 I'd like to get away from Leichardt's Town now at 
 once; and I could get my trousseau in Melbourne, 
 and perhaps you could come too. Will you talk to
 
 232 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 him, and put it all right? Don't you think it would 
 be a good thing, Caspar." 
 
 ' Yes, I think it might be a very good thing," 
 he answered slowly. " I will see what I can do 
 about it. I have no doubt that, even if one of the 
 other Ministers has settled to go, the thing could 
 be altered." 
 
 " And, Caspar, when you go away, will you call 
 at the Mines office, and will you tell daddy? And 
 then — you can tell anyone else you please. I'd like 
 them all to know." 
 
 He looked at her flushed face anxiously. Her 
 eagerness for publicity fretted him, and stirred up 
 that dread which was the drop of gall in his happi- 
 ness. But he was glad, too, that her mind was so 
 firmly fixed. She meant to give herself no chance 
 of wavering. And what did it matter, even if her 
 girlish fancy had been touched, her girlish pride 
 wounded? He had not expected anything from 
 her but a childish affection, which it should be his 
 one care and joy to ripen into a woman's enduring 
 love. He was not afraid; once she was his wife, all 
 the rest would fade into a dream of the morning. 
 
 " Do you want me to call upon all the Ministers, 
 and all the heads of departments, and all the bank 
 managers, and .proclaim aloud that I am the proud- 
 est and happiest man ki the world?" he asked, with 
 his slow smile. ' I am quite pleased to do it, if it 
 will give you any satisfaction." 
 
 " No, no! but you know what I mean. And
 
 THE WOMAN STRIKES. 233 
 
 you will tell daddy — I want daddy to know before 
 he gets back this evening. And I want everything 
 to be settled about the conference, and our going 
 to Melbourne. You had better go now, Caspar." 
 
 " Yes, dear; I have business to attend to. And 
 I will come again this evening." 
 
 He kissed her again and left her.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 nx>lma's fate. 
 
 NtrLMA would not give herself time to break 
 down before four o'clock arrived. She walked in 
 the garden ; she gathered flowers ; she fed the Arab 
 in the stables; she fidgeted about the drawing- 
 room; she ran races with the dogs, and when Ken- 
 ward appeared, she came in, her cheeks pink, her 
 eyes bright, radiant, he thought, with happiness 
 and expectation. He himself looked haggard and 
 anxious. Such of the night as had been left him 
 after the ball he had passed sleeplessly. Margot 
 Keefe's words haunted him, and Margot Keefe's 
 image continually effaced in his imagination that 
 sweet girlish face, upon which his fancy loved to 
 dwell. But the thing was done. He loved Nulma; 
 he meant to make her his wife. As soon as was 
 practicable, he would throw up his appointment 
 and take her to England, where, away from Mar- 
 got Keefe's influence, he would begin a new life. 
 
 He held out both hands to Nulma. She came 
 forward constrainedly. The eager words died on 
 
 234
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 
 
 235 
 
 his lips. ' I have come " he began. Then he 
 
 saw that she held out her right hand only, and that 
 her face had changed. The colour had died out 
 of it, and her soft child's lips were resolutely set. 
 He stopped, released her hand, then deliberately 
 felt in his pocket, and took out a little pocket-book, 
 bound in silver, with his monogram upon it. It 
 had been Margot Keefe's Christmas present to him. 
 This thought struck him now — it had not occurred 
 to him before — and he hated himself for having 
 placed Nulma's keepsake within it. He took out 
 the bit of wattle and held it to her. " I told you 
 that I was coming to give you this to-day — to ask 
 you to give me something instead of it." 
 
 Nulma took the wattle. It had still a faint 
 fragrance, that inexpressibly mournful fragrance of 
 dead flowers which has something in common with 
 the melancholy of a waltz air. A rush of emotion 
 came over her — the same choking emotion which 
 she had felt in the old school-room when writing 
 to Van Vechten. At any cost she must strangle 
 it. Impulsively she w T alked to the fireplace, where 
 there was a fire of logs smouldering, and dropped 
 the bit of wattle into the heart of it, where a red 
 glow still remained among the white ashes. 
 
 Kenward followed her, his face grim with anger. 
 " Is that your answer?" he said in a low voice. 
 
 Nulma did not reply. She dared not look at 
 him. She stooped, took the poker and poked the 
 piece of wattle further in among the ashes. 
 16
 
 236 NULMA. 
 
 " Miss Goodeve," said Kenward, " oil my way 
 out here Mr. Latham joined me, and told me a 
 piece of news I did not believe, which he said had 
 only just been made public to-day. I am going 
 to ask you now if it is true." 
 
 He waited. 
 
 " I don't know what it is," she faltered, still 
 without looking at him. 
 
 " You would know at once if it were true. He 
 told me that your engagement to Mr. Van Vechten 
 had just been announced. Is it true?" 
 
 " Yes, it is true," Nulma answered. 
 
 " Was it true last night?" 
 
 Nulma kept obstinate silence. 
 
 " Was it true when you gave me that piece of 
 wattle?" 
 
 But still Nulma did not answer. 
 
 " I see," he said bitterly. " I must beg your 
 pardon for having entirely misjudged you. You 
 have nothing to learn in the art of coquetry from 
 your sisters on the other side of the Pacific. Al- 
 most thou hadst persuaded me to be a believer in 
 unsophisticated womanhood. I apologize to you 
 for not having done you justice." 
 
 Then Nulma turned on him, her great brown 
 eyes ablaze. 
 
 " You are cruel! you are false! " she said. " You 
 are not like Caspar Van Vechten. You don't know 
 how to be true to a woman! I thought I cared 
 for you for a little while, but only for a little while.
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 237 
 
 You would have got tired of me. I don't respect 
 you. I respect Mr. Van Yechten. I am going to 
 marry him." 
 
 " Then," said Kenward, " there is nothing more 
 to be said, except that I congratulate you upon a 
 choice which must undoubtedly prove for your 
 happiness. Good-bye." 
 
 He took up his hat, bowed formally, and left 
 her without even touching her hand. To him Nul- 
 ma was now the embodiment of a finished coquette, 
 and his dreams of girlish faith and purity were 
 rudely dispelled. He did not for a moment imag- 
 ine that the engagement had only taken place that 
 day. He could conceive of no development of cir- 
 cumstances by which it could have been brought 
 so suddenly about, nor did it occur to him that 
 Lady Arthur could have been in any way instru- 
 mental in the ruin of his tender hopes. He simply 
 accepted it as a fact that Nulma and Van Vechten 
 had always been more or less formally engaged — 
 her own remark to him in the beginning of their 
 acquaintance had seemed to imply the fact. Flat- 
 tered by his own evident preference, she had 
 flirted with him, her apparent innocent candour 
 having been part of the panoply of conquest; then, 
 having brought him up to the point of a declara- 
 tion, and, her vanity being satisfied, she had calmly 
 decided that Van Vechten was more to her liking 
 and the best match of the two. Thus he reasoned. 
 Of course, Van Vechten was the better match.
 
 2 3 8 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 Though he himself was Chief Justice and had a 
 certain English prestige, Van Vechten had the 
 reputation of solid wealth. The Minister of 
 Mines doubtless had good opportunities of gaug- 
 ing the merchant's fortune, and, with the long- 
 headed shrewdness of the self-made man, had 
 probably assisted his daughter in making her 
 choice. 
 
 So, with these bitter thoughts, Kenward tried 
 to dismiss poor Nulma and her romance. Next 
 day all Leichardt's Town was talking of the engage- 
 ment, and most people said that there was nothing 
 surprising in it, and that it had been a foregone 
 conclusion ever since Nulma had been grown up. 
 Still, people were surprised, all the same, for of 
 late there had been no gossip about Nulma, except 
 in connection with the Chief Justice's evident pref- 
 erence and Caspar Van Vechten's disappointment. 
 Certain persons — Mrs. Degraves and the President 
 of the Chamber among them — had begun to wonder 
 whether Mr. Van Vechten would console himself 
 with the object of Lady Randal's former manceu- 
 vrings, and poor Justin Blaize had suffered from 
 Miss Degraves' coldness in consequence. Now 
 Miss Degraves beamed more friendly glances upon 
 her Bush admirer, and Justin Blaize was happy ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 It happened just then that the little group of 
 prominent people broke up, and social gaieties 
 flagged. Lady Arthur had a neuralgic attack, which
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 
 
 239 
 
 prevented her from giving her weekly reception, 
 or from sending to Nulma that invitation to lunch- 
 eon of which she had spoken, and nothing more 
 was heard of the final sitting for the portrait. Then 
 there was a public function up-country — the laying 
 of a foundation-stone, at which the Governor and 
 various official personages were present; so that 
 the Court removed, so to speak, from the capital, 
 and, instead of coming back, took up its quarters 
 at a summer residence of the Governor's, where, as 
 the Leichardt's Town Observer put it, " our beau- 
 tiful and indefatigable chatelaine of Government 
 House will have leisure to recruit after the fatigues 
 of a too arduous season." 
 
 The same chronicler went on to lament the early 
 breaking-up of social festivities, which was perhaps 
 partly the result of a recently-given-out engage- 
 ment, Miss Nulma Goodeve, the life and soul of all 
 this winter's parties, having arranged to accom- 
 pany her father, the Minister of Mines, to Mel- 
 bourne on the occasion of the Intercolonial Con- 
 ference, for which he had been chosen as delegate, 
 and, to the regret of the Leichardt's Town faiscurs 
 (the Leichardt's Town Observer's ladies' column 
 was always Ouidaesque in its phrases), Miss Good- 
 eve had announced her intention of purchasing the 
 greater part of her trousseau in Melbourne. Com- 
 ment was also made upon the fact that Lady Arthur 
 Keefe, with a praiseworthy loyalty to local indus- 
 tries, had ordered her summer gowns from the es-
 
 240 NULMA. 
 
 tablishment of Messrs. Barnard and Baxter, in 
 Victoria Street. 
 
 The Chief Justice, too, shortly after the bache- 
 lors' ball, went to pay a visit on the Ubi Downs, and 
 to take part in a great kangaroo battle at the foot 
 of the Ubi Mountains. Thus it happened that 
 Nulma saw neither Lady Arthur nor Kenward 
 again before she left for Melbourne with her father. 
 
 Fate is given to uneven stridings. For a long 
 time she may stand still, sometimes she may saun- 
 ter, but occasionally she goes galloping. In this 
 story of Nulma's girlhood, just now the march of 
 Fate quickened day by day, week by week; and 
 it sometimes seemed to the girl as though every- 
 thing which had ever happened and ever could 
 happen to her was crowded into that brilliant, sad 
 September which she spent in Melbourne with her 
 daddy and Caspar Van Vechten. 
 
 It was the Minister of Mines last spring, and 
 the great dinner to the delegates at the opening 
 of the conference was the last official entertainment 
 which he ever attended. 
 
 The day after the dinner he went on a boating 
 excursion with Nulma, Van Vechten, and two Mel- 
 bourne friends. A thunderstorm sprang up; every- 
 one was drenched to the skin; the boat's return 
 was delayed, and there was no doubt that the sit- 
 ting for several hours in wet clothes, exposed to 
 a piercing wind which followed the storm, brought 
 on the attack of pneumonia that killed him. No
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 24 1 
 
 one else took any serious harm. Nulma caught a 
 slight cold, and one of the Melbourne friends had 
 a touch of rheumatism. It was as though Fate had 
 singled out the strongest, apparently, of the party 
 for a victim. 
 
 He was ill for eleven days. On the tenth the 
 crisis came, and when it was over he sank from ex- 
 haustion. So serious from the first were the symp- 
 toms, that Van Vechten telegraphed to Mr. Latham ; 
 and as it happened that there were certain political 
 complications in regard to the conference requiring 
 action on the part of the Leichardt's Land delegate, 
 the Premier himself came down to Melbourne, 
 bringing his wife with him. They arrived on the 
 very day on which James Goodeve died. 
 
 The ex-carrier's end was peaceful. In his de- 
 lirium he babbled of the Western plains, of his 
 Jenny and the children, and the home in the bullock 
 dray on the top of the wool bales. No coarse lan- 
 guage, no bullock-driver's oaths, came from his 
 lips. When he blasphemed, his blasphemies were 
 only gentle girdings against Providence because the 
 bullocks had strayed, or the creeks were up, or the 
 goat had gone dry, so that there was no milk for 
 the children. For the tragedy which had darkened 
 his life he had no reproach now against Providence; 
 Jenny was always with him, and the babies were 
 yet alive. 
 
 So James Goodeve died, and went to join his 
 Jenny, far from the Western Bush where she lay
 
 242 NULMA. 
 
 buried. He died in the hotel at Melbourne, and 
 he had a great funeral, and all the intercolonial 
 delegates followed his coffin. The flags on the pub- 
 lic buildings were at half-mast, and during the pro- 
 cession the shops were closed. Caspar Van Vech- 
 ten was the chief mourner; he walked beside Mr. 
 Latham, who was now acting as a kind of guardian 
 to Nulma. He was, as a matter of fact, the guardian 
 appointed by her father's will in conjunction with 
 Caspar Van Vechten. The will had been made 
 just before the dead Minister had left Leichardt's 
 Town on his last journey, and a few days after the 
 announcement of Nulma's engagement to Caspar. 
 It was as though Mr. Goodeve had had a presenti- 
 ment of his approaching end. 
 
 When the funeral was over, Van Vechten went 
 back to Nulma. She was alone in the ugly, glar- 
 ing sitting-room, with its soiled red velvet uphol- 
 stery, its gilding and crude carpet, a pitiable object 
 in her deep black, her face pinched and white, her 
 eyes red-rimmed and lustreless, and hardly any- 
 thing of the old bright Nulma remaining as it had 
 been, except her untidy mass of yellow-brown hair. 
 
 Van Vechten took her in his arms. He had not 
 seen her since they had stood together by her fa- 
 ther's death-bed, and James Goodeve had whispered 
 with laboured breath. 
 
 ' You will marry — as— soon as possible." 
 ' My poor darling! " he said, and kissed her 
 many times, and soothed and comforted her. With
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 243 
 
 her arms round his necks clinging to him, her face 
 buried in his shoulder, she gave way to a passionate 
 burst of grief. 
 
 "I made Airs. Latham go," she sobbed; ' I 
 wanted to see you alone. I felt I couldn't bear it 
 any longer. Oh, Caspar, I want to go away from 
 this horrible place. Why did I ever persuade him 
 to come? Why didn't I let him keep to his refusal? 
 It's I that have killed him. Oh, Caspar, take me 
 away; take me to the Bunyas." 
 
 " I have been talking to Mrs. Latham about 
 it," he said, making her sit by his side while he 
 kept his arms round her. " I knew how you would 
 feel ; but the conference isn't nearly over, you know, 
 and I can see that she doesn't care to leave her hus- 
 band. I was thinking how it would be if we tele- 
 graphed for Mrs. Perryman and Luce. Of course, 
 it need not be a question of expense to them, and 
 you'd have your old friends with you." 
 
 " Mrs. Perryman would drive me mad," ex- 
 claimed Nulma; "and as for Luce, she would talk 
 all day of Malcolm Derrett, just as she writes of 
 nothing else now." 
 
 " Then, I don't know what we can do except 
 wait for Mrs. Latham," said Caspar doubtfully, 
 " unless " 
 
 "Unless what? Can't you take me, Caspar?" 
 
 The man's still face twitched slightly. This 
 was almost the only mark of emotion Caspar Van 
 Vechten ever showed.
 
 ?44 
 
 NUI.MA. 
 
 ' I can't take you as you are, Nulma. I could 
 only take you if you were my wife." 
 
 ' Well," she said impatiently, " let it be that, 
 then, lie wanted it. The last thing" he said — was 
 that. You can do it when you like, Caspar." 
 
 ' Nulma," he cried, " do you know what it 
 means to you — and to me. Are you sure, child, 
 that you wish it? " 
 
 " Why not? He wished it. It need not be a 
 grand wedding, Caspar. I don't want a white frock 
 and bridesmaids, and all that. Why mightn't it be 
 done here, now, and only the Lathams know — in 
 some quiet church, and then you could take me 
 away? " 
 
 " It could be done, though not quite so easily 
 as you fancy." He explained to her the formalities 
 necessary on account of the difference in their 
 creeds. " Then you would be all mine, Nulma — 
 my own wife; and I will make you love me." 
 
 " But I am very fond of you, Caspar," she re- 
 plied simply. " You are always so kind, and you 
 understand, and I can say anything to you. I 
 should never be afraid of telling you anything, for 
 I should know you'd understand and help me — 
 whatever happened." 
 
 " Yes; I should always help you — whatever hap- 
 pened. Nulma," he said presently, " there's some- 
 thing else I want to talk to you about. I sup- 
 pose, dear, you don't know it, but you are a rich 
 woman."
 
 NULMA'S FATE. 245 
 
 " Am I, Caspar? Well, it doesn't matter much, 
 does it?" 
 
 " Xo, it doesn't matter. I am not badly off my- 
 self, and there can be no imputation upon me for 
 having married an heiress. We will go to England 
 by-and-by — whenever you like— and you shall see 
 and do everything you have ever dreamed of. Why 
 do you sigh so. dearest? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, Caspar. Only I don't seem 
 to want now to see all those things in England. 
 Still, I'm glad I'm rich. I shall be able to give 
 Luce her trousseau: that was a great trouble with 
 Mrs. Perryman." 
 
 " You will be rich enough to do a great deal 
 more than that, if you like. Your poor father has 
 left more property, I imagine, than people had any 
 idea of. You are the chief shareholder in Goodeve's 
 Consolation Reef, and the owner of a great deal of 
 land in Leichardt's Town besides." 
 
 Nulma did not seem deeply interested in the 
 tale of her wealth, and Van Vechten said no more. 
 After all, as she had remarked, it did not greatly 
 matter. Van Vechten had a long talk with Mr. 
 Latham, who was glad to be relieved of his responsi- 
 bilities, and was highly in favour of an immediate 
 and quietly-conducted marriage. Only Mrs. Latham 
 who had strong religious views, and whose only 
 objection to Van Vechten lay in the fact of his 
 being a Roman Catholic, demurred a little at the 
 idea of the two ceremonies.
 
 246 NULMA. 
 
 Everything was, however, arranged in its due 
 course and order. The forlorn little bride, dressed 
 in her deep mourning, and accompanied by Mr. 
 and Mrs. Latham, met Caspar at the church, where, 
 without parade, she was married according to one 
 rite, and then they proceeded to the other church, 
 and left it, man and wife, together. Afterwards they 
 drove straight to the steamer in which their pas- 
 sages had been taken to Sydney. 
 
 Nulma was unembarrassed, unemotional, appar- 
 ently undisturbed by any qualms over the mo- 
 mentous step she was taking. She cried a little 
 in the fly when she talked to Mr. Latham about her 
 father; but she said that she knew Caspar would 
 be kind to her, as her daddy had been, and that 
 her great comfort was that he had wished it always. 
 
 Mrs. Latham told her husband that she had 
 never seen so strange a bride as Nulma. 
 
 " Well, at any rate, there doesn't seem any doubt 
 as to her fondness for Van Vechten," replied Mr. 
 Latham. 
 
 " Doesn't there? " said the lady. " Perhaps not 
 to you, my dear. But if Nulma were my daughter, 
 or Caspar Van Vechten my son, I should be very 
 unhappy about that marriage. She is no more in 
 love with him than I am with the jingle-driver, but 
 he is so absolutely in love with her that he would 
 cheerfully lay down his life if she asked him to 
 do it."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 
 
 When Nulma, with her husband, entered her 
 new home, almost the first thing which met her 
 eyes was Kenward's portrait of herself facing her 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 It was propped up on a chair, and her own eyes 
 stared at her out of the frame. The picture was 
 quite finished. The wattle, of which a big loose 
 bundle lay in the foreground, had been added, and, 
 Van Vechten observed quietly, had not improved 
 the effect. It was not so well painted as the rest 
 of the portrait. 
 
 Nulma gave a little startled cry. Van Vechten, 
 watching her face, saw her eyes dilate and grow 
 brighter and brighter, till a great tear splashed 
 from her eyelids upon her cheek. He put his arm 
 round her softly, and kissed the tear away, not 
 speaking. 
 
 ' It was meant for a present to daddy," she 
 whispered. 
 
 A note, addressed to " Mrs. Van Vechten," was 
 
 247
 
 24S NULMA. 
 
 stuck into the frame of the picture. Van Vechten 
 gave it her. 
 
 ' Will you open it, please, Caspar? " 
 
 ' No," he answered; " I would rather that you 
 opened it yourself." 
 
 She gave him a quick, pained look. 
 
 ' You don't understand," she murmured. 
 
 ' No, I don't understand quite. It does not 
 matter, my dear; I think I guess enough." 
 
 He turned away. Three weeks after their mar- 
 riage he had come unexpectedly into the room, and 
 had found Nulma convulsed in an agony of sobs 
 over a letter that she had just received from Ken- 
 ward. It was only a formal note of condolence 
 with her in her sorrow, and of congratulation upon 
 her marriage. But for Nulma's emotion, he could 
 have found nothing in the letter to challenge jeal- 
 ousy or suspicion. Yet it seemed to Van Vech- 
 ten that this letter explained that in his wife 
 which was already turning his marriage into a 
 tragedy. 
 
 In truth, the girl he had married did not seem 
 to be his wife, and, sometimes he told himself bit- 
 terly, would never be his wife in the real sense of the 
 word. He might be father, brother, friend, to her, 
 but never husband. She might have been some 
 elfin, fleshless creature, to whom the breath of pas- 
 sion was a horror, the material obligations of mar- 
 riage incomprehensible, were it not that once, when 
 he had come in and looked at her in her sleep, he
 
 THE HOME-COMIXG. 
 
 249 
 
 had heard her talk in her dream the language of 
 love. 
 
 She had loved someone. And who could that 
 be but Kenward? Now his heart was sore within 
 him as he stood at the window, looking out upon 
 the river, while Nulma read her note. She knew 
 instinctively that he had divined something of the 
 truth. She wished to tell him everything, but her 
 tongue was tied. Before her marriage, she had 
 pictured to herself how, sitting by his side, with 
 her head resting against his knee, she would tell 
 him the story of her girlish love, of her one night's 
 dream of bliss, of Lady Arthur's visit, and of how 
 Kenward had come and gone with the words he 
 had intended to say unspoken. She could not then 
 have imagined it possible that she would hesitate 
 to tell Uncle Van anything that was in her heart, 
 certain of his sympathy and his help, just as she 
 might have told daddy, only that this was a confi- 
 dence that, much as she loved him, she could never 
 have made to her father. But since one scene that 
 had happened, upon the night of their arrival in 
 Sydney, three days after the marriage, a great black 
 gulf seemed to have opened between herself and 
 Caspar Van Vechten. He stood to her in a rela- 
 tion of which she had never contemplated the exact 
 bearings. He could never be to her the same again. 
 She had seen the man without his mask, and had 
 received a sudden overwhelming revelation of the 
 realities of life and of human nature — a revelation
 
 250 NULMA. 
 
 which had changed her in the space of ten minutes 
 from a girl to a woman. More terrible still, it had 
 had the effect of making her realize also what might 
 have been, what in truth was — her love for Outram 
 Ken ward. 
 
 After that she could never speak of her inmost 
 feelings to her husband. She wished him to know 
 that she had loved Kenward, and that till her mar- 
 riage she had not really understood what that love 
 meant, and that had she understood she would not 
 have done him the wrong of marrying him. But, 
 somehow, the words would never come. The days 
 and weeks passed on ; the husband and wife walked, 
 drove, ate together; they went about Sydney in a 
 quiet, chastened way, as befitted a mourning pair; 
 they visited the Blue Mountains and the Berrima 
 country, driving for days through a forest of strange 
 old twisted gum-trees, coming unexpectedly vipon 
 the thunder of waterfalls, wandering down preci- 
 pices and gazing along the wild gorges — gigantic 
 chasms which were riven by some world-convulsion 
 out of the side of the great tableland, before ever 
 time was — always alone together, yet never getting 
 any nearer to each other, moving along like two 
 shadows, with the black gulf widening and deepen- 
 ing between, so that they could no longer touch 
 hands or hear each other's voices across the black- 
 ness of it. 
 
 Now after three months they had come back 
 to the old scenes, and summer was heavy and hot.
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 
 
 251 
 
 The roses were withered and drooping. Scarlet 
 hibiscus and big red and orange blossoms flaunted 
 in the gardens; and the huge clump of bamboos 
 on the hill above Van Vechten's house looked 
 brown and dry and spiky. 
 
 The Chief Justice's note was very short. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Van Vechten (it ran): I under- 
 stand that you are to return shortly, and I venture 
 to send the portrait, for which you were so good 
 as to give me sittings, to your new home. 
 
 ' You were to do with it, you remember, what 
 you pleased, and I think it was your wish that the 
 one dear to you, whom you have lost, should have it 
 in his possession. He always said that he thought 
 it very like you. Perhaps now you will wish that 
 it should belong to your husband, and if he can 
 find in it a likeness to you which pleases him, he 
 may care to have it, and will on that account for- 
 give its other short-comings. Anyhow, I offer it 
 to you and him with my best wishes for your future 
 happiness. 
 
 " I am, 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " OUTRAM KENWARD. 
 
 " P. S. — I took the liberty of walking in the 
 plantation at the Bunyas shortly after you went 
 away, and of gathering the bunch of wattle, which 
 I have painted in since you saw the picture." 
 17
 
 252 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 " Caspar," said Nulma timidly, advancing to her 
 husband and offering him the note, " Mr. Kenward 
 has sent to you the picture which was intended 
 for daddy." 
 
 Van Vechten read the note. 
 
 ' I am very much obliged to him," he answered, 
 a little stiffly. ' I will write at once and thank him. 
 It is a valuable gift, and your father was right. It 
 is very like you." 
 
 " Are you glad to have the picture, Caspar? " 
 
 ' I am glad to possess anything and everything 
 which is a part of you, my dear," he said; and the 
 incident closed. 
 
 The bride settled down very quietly to her new 
 life. A great many people were out of Leichardt's 
 Town, as the fashion was during the summer heat 
 — among them, Lady Arthur Keefe, who, with the 
 Governor and his staff, was at Government Cottage 
 on the Ubi Range. The Chief Justice was also 
 absent; but the Perrymans were, of course, at Wir- 
 rib, and Luce, full of little airs of importance, which 
 she fancied becoming to a now formally-engaged 
 young lady, came frequently to compare notes with 
 Nulma, and to discourse upon the emotions to 
 which Malcolm Derrett gave rise in her girlish 
 breast. She was surprised to find that Nulma was 
 not disposed to make capital out of her own ex- 
 periences, and had no emotions, or, anyhow, would 
 not own to any, of a thrilling kind. How could 
 a girl go through all the stages of girlhood and
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 253 
 
 womanhood — coming-out, engagement, marriage, 
 installation as a bride — in a little over six months, 
 and be left quite unmoved thereby? This was 
 Luce's constant wonderment. 
 
 Unmoved, but not unchanged. Had any human 
 being ever changed so completely in so short a 
 space as Nulma? Luce thought this was impossi- 
 ble, and Luce finally decided within herself that 
 it was her father's sudden death, and the fact of 
 finding herself a very rich woman, that had numbed 
 Nulma's feelings and made her take everything 
 for granted, whereas formerly she would have 
 laughed, cried or " gone into a tantrum," as Luce 
 put it, according as occasion dictated. 
 
 Miss Perryman, however, had no cause to be 
 dissatisfied with Nulma's accession to wealth, for 
 one of Mrs. Van Vechten's first acts of friendship 
 on her return was the presentation to Luce of a 
 very substantial cheque, which would not only re- 
 move all difficulty as to the trousseau, but go some 
 way towards furnishing the Malcolm Derretts' mod- 
 est future abode. Thus, the Perrymans could say 
 nothing but good in general of the bride, though 
 Mrs. Perryman, in confidence to her cronies, would 
 shake her head and declare there was something 
 very wrong about the marriage, and that no one 
 could spend an evening in the society of husband 
 and wife without seeing that they were far from 
 happy. 
 
 The report of their matrimonial infelicity got
 
 254 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 about, no one quite knew how. It reached the Gov- 
 ernor and his circle, and was openly bewailed by the 
 old gentleman, with whom Nulma was a favourite; 
 it reached Miss Caroline Degraves, now on the 
 eve of being engaged to Mr. Justin Blaize, and 
 gave her a certain vague thrill of satisfaction; it 
 reached also, and half pleased, half disquieted, the 
 Chief Justice. 
 
 One morning Nulma went to her husband, as 
 he was collecting some business letters in his study 
 before going into Leichardt's Town. He had not 
 seen her as yet that morning, for she had not come 
 down to breakfast. She was looking pale and frag- 
 ile, and — oh, strange occurrence hitherto in Nulma's 
 young life! — as though she had not slept. Van 
 Vechten greeted her tenderly, kissing her on the 
 forehead and leading her to a chair. 
 
 " Are you not quite well, my dear? " he asked. 
 
 ' Yes ; quite well. Caspar, may I ask you some- 
 thing before you go?" 
 
 " Certainly; and whatever you ask will, if possi- 
 ble, be granted." 
 
 " You are very good to me, Caspar." She hesi- 
 tated. " I wish I could call you Uncle Van, as I 
 used; I could explain better." 
 
 " Then, call me Uncle Van." 
 
 " Ah ! but you said I must not. And you are 
 my husband, and so, of course, you cannot be 
 ' Uncle Van ' any more. Oh, Caspar, if I had only 
 known what it was all coming to, and what it all
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 
 
 255 
 
 meant, I wouldn't have forced you into marrying 
 me as I did. It was a great mistake — a terrible 
 mistake." 
 
 ' Yes, I am afraid it was a mistake," he an- 
 swered sadly. " I have spoiled your life, and that 
 was what I always dreaded doing." 
 
 " I make you a bad wife, Caspar; I don't make 
 you happy." 
 
 ' That doesn't matter," he returned decidedly. 
 " And you do make me happy. It is happiness 
 to me to live under the same roof with you, to 
 know that you bear my name, to be able to do 
 little things for you that make your life easier. 
 You don't hate me, Nulma, do you, for having 
 spoiled your life? " 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Van — Uncle Van" — the girl sobbed, 
 drawing him to the arm of the great leather chair, 
 in which he had placed her, and leaning her head 
 against his shoulder — " how could I hate you? How 
 could I do anything but care for you, and be grate- 
 ful for your goodness to me? I do care for you — 
 every way, except " 
 
 " Except the one way in which I wish you to 
 care for me. Never mind, that may come, perhaps, 
 long years hence; and in the meanwhile think of 
 me as Uncle Van, and not as Caspar Van Vechten, 
 your husband." 
 
 ' It was my doing," repeated the girl, still sob- 
 bing. " I made you do it." 
 
 ' Nulma," he said gently, " I have never asked
 
 256 NULMA. 
 
 you since that day, but I should be glad to know, 
 for your own sake, my dear, so that I may help you 
 if it ever seems possible. Will you tell me exactly 
 what led up to that request of yours — why you 
 wished me to marry you?" 
 
 ' I should like to tell you, Uncle Van ... but 
 it is so difficult." 
 
 ' I think I can guess partly. I watched you 
 very closely all that winter, and at one time I al- 
 most brought myself to believe that you had given 
 your heart to Mr. Kenward." 
 
 ' Yes, Uncle Van, that was quite true; he made 
 me care for him." 
 
 " And he — it seemed to me that he cared for 
 you." 
 
 Van Vechten spoke with a studied quietness. 
 
 ' I don't know." Nulma hid her face as she 
 spoke low and falteringly, and he stroked her hair 
 and encouraged her to go on, just as in the old 
 time ' Uncle .Van " might have done. She felt 
 nearer to him then than she had felt in all the days 
 since their marriage. " I thought he cared — once, 
 the night of the bachelors' ball. But, then, I always 
 had the feeling that he only thought of me as a 
 kind of doll — something that amused him a little, 
 and was good to look at. I knew he must feel that 
 we weren't good enough — that we didn't belong 
 to his world, daddy and I; and it hurt me, and 
 made me angry and proud, so that " 
 
 " Yes— so that, Nulma? "
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 
 
 257 
 
 " So that the bitterness seemed to swallow up 
 the caring - sometimes. And I didn't know; I was 
 only a child, Uncle Van. I didn't become a woman 
 till I married you." 
 
 " Ah! " He gave a heavy sigh. " / have made 
 you a woman, but not in the right way. Well, my 
 dear, tell me — the night of the ball. Did the Chief 
 Justice lead you to think then that he wanted you 
 to be his wife? " 
 
 " No, not quite. He said there was something 
 he must not tell me then. He was coming the next 
 afternoon." 
 
 " And he came? " 
 
 ' Yes; he came. But Lady Arthur came to 
 luncheon, and she told me " 
 
 " Lady Arthur! " he repeated sharply. 
 
 " She said she had known him for a long time. 
 She said he was not free to ask me to marry him 
 — that there was another woman to whom he was 
 bound, and whom he loved and who loved him." 
 
 " Lady Arthur told you that? Now I think I 
 understand." 
 
 'What do you understand, Uncle Van?" 
 
 ' No matter, my child. Lady Arthur strength- 
 ened your suspicion, no doubt, that he was merely 
 attracted by your pretty face, and that if he married 
 you he would afterwards be sorry." 
 
 " Yes, that was what she said." 
 
 "My God!" said Van Vechten passionately. 
 ' It was a cruel, cowardly woman's trick."
 
 258 NULMA. 
 
 ' Uncle Van," said Nulma slowly, " do you 
 think- — sometimes I have fancied it — that Lady Ar- 
 thur, though she is married, cared for Mr. Kenward 
 herself? " 
 
 " I think it is possible," replied Van Vechten 
 grimly. ' Never mind, Nulma; that need not con- 
 cern you. And so when Mr. Kenward came and 
 asked you to be his wife, you told him of Lady 
 Arthur's warning? " 
 
 " No; I did not mention that. How could I 
 let him think I cared? I was mad, Uncle Van — 
 I was wicked. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted 
 that he should know I was worth more than — a 
 mere plaything. I sent for you — and you know. 
 And when he came I told him that I was engaged 
 to be married to you. And he never asked me any- 
 thing. He went away. You see, it isn't much to 
 tell. That is all." 
 
 'Yes; that is all," Van Vechten repeated; and 
 then there was a silence, during which he still 
 stroked his wife's hair. His heart was full of anger 
 and resentment against Lady Arthur, and the 
 thought uppermost in his mind was that he would 
 avenge Nulma. Presently he said: "You have not 
 told me yet what it is you wished to ask me." 
 
 Nulma hesitated. 
 
 " I don't know whether I'll ask it now, Cas- 
 par." 
 
 1 You may safely do so, dear. Whatever it may 
 be, I shall not be hurt or vexed."
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 
 
 259 
 
 " Caspar, will you let me go back to the Bunyas 
 again? " 
 
 " Back to the Bunyas? do you mean that we 
 should leave this house?" 
 
 " No; not that. This is your home. I want 
 to go back by myself — to my own old home just 
 for a little while. I want to try and feel myself 
 a girl again. I think I should be happier if I could 
 be by myself for a short time." 
 
 "You are not happy, then, Nulma? No; it is 
 absurd to ask — of course, I see for myself that you 
 are wretched." 
 
 " I ought not to be wretched, Uncle Van. I 
 keep telling myself that there's no girl in the world 
 should be so happy as I. I don't think I'm wretched, 
 really. But it's all so strange, and I feel so lonely, 
 sometimes." 
 
 "Lonely?" he interrupted. 
 
 " You see, Uncle Van, I'm not a girl any more; 
 and sometimes it seems as though my life were 
 ended when it had never begun. And there are 
 so many years to live, so many years from eighteen 
 to fifty, even — to be as old as Mrs. Perryman. I 
 shall get used to it in time. And I miss daddy — 
 I miss daddy. I wasn't always good to him. I 
 didn't appreciate him as I ought. I didn't love him 
 as I ought, but there will never be anybody like 
 him for me in all the world." 
 
 She fell to sobbing. Caspar did not take her in 
 his arms this time and soothe her grief with ca-
 
 260 NULMA. 
 
 resses. He looked on silent, immovable, except 
 for the twitch at the corner of his mouth. At last 
 he said: 
 
 ' I think you are right, dear. It will do you 
 good to be by yourself in your old home for a 
 short time. Don't stay too long, Nulma. That 
 would set people wondering, and perhaps saying 
 unkind things about us both. I will make arrange- 
 ments for you to go at once. I can easily explain 
 that there are matters you have to see about, for 
 which you must be on the spot. And I will not 
 break in upon your solitude." 
 
 ' Thank you, Caspar! " She lifted his hand and 
 timidly kissed it. " But I did not mean that. I 
 should like you to come and see me if you wish." 
 
 ' Very well. I will watch over you from out- 
 side the gates, and if you want anything you have 
 only to send to me. As I go to town now, I will 
 call in and tell them you are coming, and to have 
 dinner for you this evening. Everything is exactly 
 as you left it — even his room. Latham and I merely 
 looked for some necessary papers. We thought you 
 would prefer to go over the others yourself." 
 
 ' Thank you, Caspar," she repeated submis- 
 sively. 
 
 "Good-bye, my dear! God bless you!" He 
 lifted her face to his between his two hands, and 
 looked down into the clear brown eyes. " Yes," 
 he said, as if speaking to himself; "they are very 
 true; there's not a shadow of dishonesty in them.
 
 THE HOME-COMING. 26 1 
 
 Always be true to me, Nulma. Never try to con- 
 ceal your feelings. Do not be afraid to tell me 
 even that you love another man. There is no shame 
 in it, to you. You do not know what evil is, and 
 I pray Heaven that you never may. You never 
 shall, so long as I am able to ward it from you. 
 Courage, my child! It seems a long time, as you 
 say, to look forward — from eighteen to fifty. But 
 the end may come sooner than you think." 
 
 He kissed her very tenderly and went to the 
 door. Then he stopped for a moment and smiled 
 back upon her. 
 
 " Good-bye, my dearest! And you know it is 
 only a little way from the Bunyas here, and I will 
 see that Bailey and the trap are there ready for 
 you, so you will only have to step into the pony- 
 carriage and come back to me when you are tired 
 of being alone."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 NiTlma found, when she took up her abode at 
 the Bunyas in the evening-, that everything had 
 been arranged by Van Vechten with such fore- 
 thought and kindliness that it seemed the most 
 natural and right thing for her to thus change her 
 residence from under her husband's roof to the 
 home of her girlhood. Van Vechten had even 
 called at Wirrib, and, with some slight deviation 
 from the truth, had informed the Perrymans that 
 at his urgent entreaty Nulma had consented at last 
 to go over her father's papers, and all the things in 
 the house, with a view of determining what should 
 now be done with the Bunyas. The thought of 
 this, he said, had been intensely painful to her, and 
 they had agreed together that she should be left 
 quite alone with her sad memories, and thus grow 
 to realize the change which had befallen her. He 
 therefore begged that Luce and Airs. Perryman 
 would check their natural and affectionate impulses, 
 and refrain from going near her. 
 
 This Nulma learned in a little letter from Luce, 
 which was brought her in the morning. 
 
 262
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 263 
 
 It was as Caspar had said. Nothing had been 
 altered. Most of the old servants remained. Her 
 father's pipes hung in the rack over the mantel- 
 piece in his study; his papers and letters lay in the 
 lettered pigeon-holes of his escritoire. The clothes 
 she had left behind her were in the drawers in her 
 room, and some of her old programmes were still 
 stuffed between the wall and the looking-glass. 
 She could almost have imagined that her marriage 
 was a dream, as she lay down to sleep in the little 
 white bed, with its pink-trimmed mosquito-curtains, 
 in which she had dreamed a different dream — one 
 of intoxicating happiness — in the early morning 
 after the bachelors' ball. 
 
 She was like a ghost coming back out of ghost- 
 land. That phrase, unconsciously repeated to her- 
 self, expressed everything. On the day of her mar- 
 riage she had died, and ever since she had been 
 living in ghostland. 
 
 The first day she wandered and dreamed again. 
 She had the fancy, even, to pace the veranda with 
 the old spelling-book, and learn the very lesson 
 Van Vechten had interrupted on the day of that 
 ride, and of that strange conversation — so memora- 
 ble, and yet then to her so little more than a child's 
 joke — the conversation in which Van Vechten had 
 made her promise that if ever she wished to marry 
 him she would frankly tell him so. Well, that con- 
 versation and that compact had been the pivot on 
 which her whole life turned. If she had not made
 
 264 NULMA. 
 
 that half-jesting promise, she would not now be 
 Van Vechten's wife. 
 
 She roamed the garden in the afternoon; she 
 sat out under the passion-vines, where often during 
 the short period of his intimacy at the Bunyas the 
 Chief Justice had sat and talked to her. She walked 
 in the plantation, where just one or two late sprays 
 of wattle-bloom flecked the blue-green boughs, 
 looking brown, scorched, and out of date. She 
 sat in the veranda opposite the squatter's chair in 
 which Margot Keefe had tilted herself while she 
 pulled the young blooms to pieces, and, as she did 
 so, had destroyed the girl's faith in the man she 
 loved. The whole scene came back to Nulma with 
 new flashing lights illuminating the woman's per- 
 fidy, and the girl grew hot and cold and crimson 
 and pale again. A thousand trifles, looks, words, 
 tones, tiny incidents of the sittings at Government 
 House, to which in her absolute innocence she had 
 attached no meaning, now came back to her with 
 a horrible significance. Had they loved each other, 
 then, those two? And if so, how had he dared — oh, 
 how had he dared ! 
 
 In her passion of shame and resentment, she 
 felt that she must know the truth. She was in the 
 mood, had Lady Arthur been at Government 
 House, to have gone forth and arraigned her. 
 
 She was so restless that she walked about the 
 garden half the night. There was a young moon; 
 the trees and shrubs cast grotesque shadows; the
 
 THE ORDEAL. 265 
 
 air was heavy with scent. She felt a thrill of satis- 
 faction in her loneliness. It was a relief to know 
 that Caspar, in his own house half a mile away, 
 could not watch for the light through her door- 
 crevice, or listen for the restless movements, the 
 stealthy opening of French windows, and uneasy 
 pacings on the veranda outside her room, upon 
 which he would sometimes comment in the morn- 
 ing, and thus betray his knowledge of her wakeful 
 nights. That tireless, unobtrusive espionage had 
 sometimes exasperated her almost beyond endur- 
 ance, and yet she had at moments an inconsistent 
 longing to go to him and sob out her restlessness 
 upon his breast. 
 
 The relief of her freedom made her now stretch 
 out her arms to the night and take long, deep 
 breaths of the hot, scented air. She had gone quite 
 to the end of the garden, had emerged from the 
 untidy gloom of a banana thicket, and stood by a 
 low fence, with broken palisades, partly hung by 
 a ragged vine of the native cucumber. Beyond 
 were a few straggling bushes of lantarna, some 
 gum saplings, and a heap of stones and earth where 
 the bank shelved abruptly to the river. At the foot 
 of the bank was a dilapidated boat-house, and be- 
 side it a set of slimy steps. The boat-approach was 
 occasionally used by friends living on the water's 
 edge, but the late Minister of Mines had not kept 
 a boat, and had always had plenty of horses, so that 
 the river had never served him as a highway.
 
 2 66 NULMA. 
 
 The river stretched out below a great black 
 shadow, with faint moonlit streaks where the pale 
 track crossed it, and red lights here and there, show- 
 ing barges and ferry-boats lying close into shore, 
 while further back again, climbing the opposite 
 slope, were white cottages nestling in gardens and 
 groves of bananas. 
 
 Minyando was one of these. There was a light 
 burning in one of the French windows. Did it 
 mean that Kenward was at Leichardt's Town? Nul- 
 ma gazed wistfully towards the light in that little 
 low house, which perhaps, but for Lady Arthur, 
 might now have been her home. And her father 
 would be alive, too, for he would not then have 
 gone to Melbourne. The lights of her real home 
 were burning likewise. As she turned her eyes 
 leftward up the river, the Bamboos, with its big 
 " Prince of Wales's feathers " clump above the 
 lights, drawn black against the dark sky, seemed 
 to dominate the whole scene. She turned away with 
 a kind of smothered gasp. It seemed as though 
 even here she could not escape that unceasing 
 watch. 
 
 Had she known it, the watch was very close. 
 Not twenty paces from her, behind a lantarna bush, 
 stood Van Vechten, who had stolen forth miser- 
 ably, seeing the lights burning in Nulma's chamber, 
 to assure himself that all was well with his beloved. 
 
 Another pair of eyes had been observing that 
 same light in Nulma's bedchamber. At the foot
 
 THE OKDEAL. 267 
 
 of Minyando garden there was a boat-house, too, 
 and moored by it a long narrow dainty little craft. 
 On hot moonlight nights Kenward often took 
 refuge in the boat, and, pushing out, drifted along 
 with the tide. He cast himself adrift now. He had 
 come back only that day. Of Nulma he had heard 
 no news, and was not aware that she was staying 
 in her old home. He looked up from the river and 
 saw the light. During his visits to the Bunyas he 
 had got to know the plan of the house, which is 
 not difficult in Australian establishments, where 
 rooms give out on verandas, and French windows 
 are generally open. He wondered who could be 
 occupying Nulma's chamber, and whether the Van 
 Vechtens were now living there instead of at Cas- 
 par's own house. But the lights in the Bamboos, 
 shining in both stories, contradicted this theory. 
 He pulled close to the bank, and lay on his oars 
 just far enough to see through the rifts in the lan- 
 tarna bushes into the garden. He rocked himself 
 there, keeping in position with one oar for a long 
 time. Once he thought he saw the figure of a man 
 on the bank below the garden, moving among the 
 lantarna shrubs and gum-saplings, and idly specu- 
 lated as to the chances of its being a burglar. Then 
 something white flitted across the opening he com- 
 manded. He gave a great start. The night was 
 full of shadows, and the moon made but a dim pale- 
 ness, and every now and then, passed altogether 
 behind clouds; but it had been clear enough for 
 18
 
 268 NULMA. 
 
 him to see in that moving' shape, in the poise of the 
 head and carriage of the shoulders, Nulma. He 
 waited on, but the shape did not return past the 
 opening. The other dark shape he now saw dis- 
 tinctly emerge from behind a lantarna bush, and 
 the man, with his back to the river, so that even 
 had it been light enough Kenward would not have 
 been able to identify him, climbed up the slope and 
 disappeared into a path leading between the garden- 
 paling of the Bunyas and a paddock-fence beyond, 
 up to the main road. He concluded that the man, 
 who might possibly have been reconnoitring with 
 ultimate nefarious intent, did not propose putting 
 any such into execution to-night. 
 
 Kenward rowed out again further into the 
 stream. It was too dark to distinguish any object 
 in the mass of shadows, but he fancied he saw 
 something white gleam faintly against the black- 
 ness of the house and then disappear. 
 
 The next day he called at the Bamboos. In 
 answer to his inquiries, he was told that Mrs. Van 
 Yechten was not at home, and that Mr. Van Vech- 
 ten generally got in about five, but had been later 
 the last day or two. Further inquiry as to whether 
 Mrs. Van Vechten was likely to be at home after 
 dinner, a favourite time for paying calls in the Aus- 
 tralian summer, told him all he wanted to know. 
 " No; Mrs. Van Vechten was staying for a short 
 time at the Bunyas alone. Mr. Van Vechten didn't 
 go over of evenings, or any time. Mrs. Van Vech-
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 269 
 
 ten was settling things over there, and had wanted 
 to be by herself." 
 
 To Kenward that piece of information, deliv- 
 ered by a talkative Irish maid, who no doubt had 
 her own views concerning the relations of her mas- 
 ter and mistress, seemed to unfold a new and tragic 
 view of the marriage. " She had wanted to be by 
 herself." Then, the gossip which had reached him 
 was not without foundation. Nulma was unhappy. 
 
 A longing to see her and to judge for himself 
 took possession of him. He was tempted to go 
 on to the Bunyas, but he dared not. No doubt he 
 would be refused admittance. That night he went 
 out again in. the boat, and lay off the landing-stage 
 below the Bunyas. He excused this proceeding to 
 himself on the ground that it behoved him to see 
 whether the man he had watched the previous night 
 still lurked among the lantarna shrubs. Nulma 
 was alone; the man might be a robber, and who 
 could blame him for drawing thus near unseen, 
 ready to guard her? And then — for the night was 
 hot, heavy and almost unbearable within doors — 
 might she not again be roaming sleepless in the 
 moonlight, and might he not this time get a clear 
 vision of the face he loved? 
 
 The face that he loved! Yes, that was what it 
 came to. This child had wound herself round his 
 very heart-strings. He could never tear her away. 
 All other loves, to this one, had been as smoke- 
 dimmed furnace fire to the pure light of the rising
 
 2 70 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 sun. I lis old passion, merged later into pitying, 
 half-contemptuous affection for Margot: Keefe, ex- 
 isted no longer. He loved Nulma, and only Nulma. 
 rlis intuition told him that she had given him her 
 heart, and that the engagement to Van Vechten 
 had been some horrible blunder — perhaps an ex- 
 aggerated fad of honour, perhaps a girl's coquettish 
 whim, perhaps an impulse of pique. Somebody 
 might have told her something against him. The 
 somebody might have been Margot. For the first 
 time the thought struck him. But it was impos- 
 sible. Margot could not have been so base. And 
 for her own sake she would have been silent. 
 
 The moon was less of a crescent to-night; there 
 were fewer clouds. Possibly for this reason the 
 mysterious would-be burglar had thought it more 
 prudent to defer his projects. Kenward could see 
 , no sign of the dark shape among the lantarna 
 shrubs. But, then, his eyes were straining wildly 
 for another fairer shape. Down near the bank the 
 mosquitoes buzzed. There were one or two slimy 
 mangroves close by the boat-house, and a chucky- 
 chucky-tree dipped its boughs into the turgid water. 
 The mosquitoes, even a few feet higher, would 
 be less troublesome. Why should he not moor his 
 boat, crawl up the steps, and lie in wait among the 
 lantarna shrubs also, below the paling? Then he 
 would be less likely to attract observation; he 
 would certainly be more comfortable, and he would 
 be closer at hand if the burglar did show himself.
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 271 
 
 Kenward yielded to the pressure of the argu- 
 ments, though his sense of humour prevailed suffi- 
 ciently to make him quite conscious of their sophis- 
 try. He almost laughed aloud as he took up his 
 position below the palings. Truly an undignified 
 proceeding for the Chief Justice of Leichardt's 
 Land, who was, moreover, of an age unbefitting 
 such lovers' escapades. Never in his calf-days had 
 he descended to such folly. He thought of the bit- 
 ing comments which would have tripped readily 
 from Margot Keefe's tongue. 
 
 It was early yet, comparatively. The house was 
 not closed — if, indeed, Australian houses in those 
 primitive days could ever have been said to be 
 closed on summer nights. Ten strokes from the 
 clock over the Court-house floated faintly along 
 the river from Victoria Street. Lights were burn- 
 ing in several of the French windows which opened 
 on to the veranda. From where he stood he could 
 see right up the garden, along a diagonal path 
 through the banana thicket, to the broad central 
 walk which ended in a sort of trellis of passion- 
 vines. 
 
 There was a sound of stir in the veranda — of 
 a chair being dragged along the boards, and of 
 voices, one rough and uncultured, the other low 
 and sweet, with that slight fall of cadence and tend- 
 ency to drawl which gives a plaintive note to a 
 woman's voice, when it is not exaggerated into 
 what is called the Australian accent, an exaggera-
 
 2 -2 NULMA. 
 
 lion, alas! that lias grown with generations. Ken- 
 ward could not hear the words, but he knew the 
 voice for Nulma's. Probably she was saying that 
 she would not go to bed yet, for by-and-by, through 
 the rift in that wall of banana leaves and thick pulpy 
 stems, he saw something white flitting; and then 
 on the broad walk, close by the trellis, the white 
 shape halted, standing wraith-like for a few min- 
 utes, finally sinking into indistinctness within the 
 shadow of the trellis. 
 
 An uncontrollable impulse leaped within Ken- 
 ward. He must see her. To be so near, and not 
 even to catch a glimpse of her features, was more 
 than he could endure. In a moment he had vaulted 
 the low paling and stood in the gloom of the banana 
 thicket. He fancied that he heard a rustling behind 
 him, but when he looked, there was nothing to be 
 seen, and he walked boldly on towards the arbour. 
 This could, in truth, hardly be called an arbour, 
 being a trellis-wall overgrown with a vine, that 
 had flung grappling tendrils across to the bare 
 branches of a gum-tree, which had been left to 
 exist only in right of a rather fine cactus trained 
 up its stem. There was a bench with a back to it 
 standing close to the gum-tree, and sheltered by 
 the trellis, and on this bench, with her arm thrown 
 over the back, one hand supporting her head, Nul- 
 ma was sitting. 
 
 She was in a muslin dress, with her head bare, 
 and the loose, wide sleeves of her gown falling
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 273 
 
 away from the round, slim arm. Her hair was very 
 simply dressed, and her whiteness and slenderness 
 and extreme girlislmess seemed accentuated in the 
 moonlight, so that, combined with her loneliness, 
 they gave her a touch of pathos which almost 
 amounted to tragedy. But as he got nearer he saw 
 that there was indeed something tragic in the ex- 
 pression of her face, which he fancied had grown 
 smaller, and in the outlook of the brown eyes, from 
 which tears were dropping. He saw a great drop 
 splash down upon her shoulder, and then the bosom 
 heaved, the shoulders shook in a log-drawn sob, 
 and Nulma drooped her head and covered her face 
 with both hands, weeping unconstrainedly. 
 
 He let her weep on for several minutes. The 
 sobbing turned into sharp gasps that were each 
 like a knife thrust through the poor, quivering 
 frame. The sound of them was to him as a physical 
 hurt. He stepped impetuously forward, and as her 
 hands dropped in the startled movement she made, 
 he caught them, and, flinging himself on the bench 
 beside her, held them tight against his breast. 
 
 " No, Nulma, you mustn't take them away, you 
 must let them stay there. And you must speak the 
 truth to me, for I will have nothing less from 
 you now — as I shall speak the truth to you."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " there's no third place in it." 
 
 It was the real man who spoke in those curt, 
 masterful sentences, whose eyes, gazing straight 
 into hers, from which the tears, arrested, and gath- 
 ering into greater drops, plashed slowly now on 
 his hand, seemed to be piercing through all dis- 
 guises and tearing away every veil that hung be- 
 tween their souls. This real man was not the Ken- 
 ward she had known, any more than she was the 
 Nulma with whom he had danced on that last 
 evening of her happy girl-life. This was a stern, 
 forceful being, whom she must obey, and with 
 whom there could be no shift of conventional bar- 
 riers and excuses. Instinctively she knew this, and 
 there was not a thought in her mind of resisting 
 his will. 
 
 "What is the truth?" she asked. 
 
 ' That I love you with my whole heart and soul, 
 and that I know you love me. And after that truth, 
 Nulma, the lie, whatever it may be, that made you 
 untrue to yourself and that parted us. You never 
 loved Van Vechten; you loved me! Deny it — if 
 you dare." 
 
 274
 
 " THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 275 
 
 "I don't dare. If I denied it, you'd have the 
 right to despise and hate me. I don't want that. 
 And I'm not ashamed of it. I will not be ashamed 
 of what is my very self." 
 
 " There speaks my brave, true soul of the Bush! 
 my free, fearless Nulma! my wild wattle-flower! 
 my heart's love! " 
 
 " You tell me that I am your heart's love, and 
 that is why I am not ashamed. I did not know it 
 before; and I wanted to hide from myself and from 
 everyone how much I cared. But it was of no use! 
 And then," her voice dropped, " I had not learned 
 the true meaning of love." 
 
 " And now, Nulma, what has taught you the 
 true meaning of love?" 
 
 " My marriage! " she said. 
 
 He had expected the answer; it hurt him. 
 
 "You are not married!" he cried. "You may 
 wear Van Yechten's ring on your marriage-finger, 
 but vou reallv are not Van Vechten's wife. Don't 
 tell me to believe it. Your eyes and your lips deny 
 it. I've read the look on brides' faces; it isn't on 
 yours. I see straight down into the depths of your 
 dear eyes. They are the eyes of a girl. Your lips 
 are the lips of a girl. It is not your marriage which 
 has taught you. You are a girl still. If you were 
 not a girl in heart, your eyes would droop before 
 mine, and you would not be able to look at me and 
 say, ' I love you! 
 
 It seemed as though she wished to answer the-
 
 276 
 
 NULMA. 
 
 challenge, for she said, without turning away her 
 gaze: 
 
 " I do love you. But my marriage has been to 
 me as the well of truth. I have looked deep down 
 into it. I may be a girl still, but in some ways I 
 am also a woman to know good from evil." 
 
 There was silence for a minute or two. He took 
 away her hands from his breast, where he had held 
 them tight clasped, and very quietly kissed them 
 one after the other. He held the left one longest. 
 There was no ring on it, except the wedding one. 
 Then he laid her hands in her lap. 
 
 " I understand you. I'm sorry for him, though 
 he is called your husband. I am still more sorry 
 for you and for myself. What is to be the end of 
 it all, Nulma?" 
 
 " The end ! " she said wildly, and unconsciously ; 
 then, repeating the words she had used to Van 
 Vechten, " There are so many, many years to live 
 from eighteen to — fifty." 
 
 "Only eighteen! Poor little child! And I'm 
 nearly fifty, Nulma — getting to what you fancy is 
 the end, while you are only at the very beginning. 
 But fifty isn't the end, child. Life goes on a great 
 deal longer than that, and we've either got to sub- 
 mit and bear it, or else rebel and take our fate into 
 our own hands." 
 
 He watched her anxiously as he spoke, but his 
 words did not seem to convey to her any meaning. 
 Suddenly she asked:
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 
 
 277 
 
 " How is it that you came to-night? I don't 
 understand. It seems so wonderful that you should 
 be here, and that we should be talking like this." 
 
 ' There's nothing wonderful in it. I often come 
 out on the river on hot nights. I came out last 
 night and drifted across here. And then I fancied 
 that I saw a man in the bushes watching you; the 
 thought came to me that he might be plotting some 
 mischief, and that you were alone, and — oh, well, 
 I suppose that serves for a decent excuse to myself. 
 But it doesn't excuse my having stolen into the 
 garden like this. The fact is that I couldn't stand 
 it. I felt that I must look at your dear face again; 
 and then, when I saw you crying, the scales fell 
 off, and I knew that if it were only for once in our 
 lives we two must see straight into each other's 
 souls. . . . Nulma — the truth — the truth! There's 
 more to learn. What changed you in those few 
 hours — from the time you gave me that bit of wat- 
 tle to the moment when you threw it in the fire 
 and told me that you were engaged to Van Vech- 
 ten? You were not engaged to Van Vechten when 
 you gave me that wattle?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 ' Then, in Heaven's name, what do things 
 mean? Impossible that you could have become en- 
 gaged to him between then and my coming out to 
 the Bunyas! " 
 
 ' That is what happened. I sent for him. I 
 asked him if he would marry me. That had been
 
 2/8 NULMA. 
 
 an understanding between us. I think I once told 
 you." 
 
 ' I thought it a child's innocent joke, and for 
 that very reason never felt jealous of Van Vechten. 
 Nulma, be honest with me. I will not stir from this 
 spot till I know the exact truth. What made you 
 send for Van Vechten?" 
 
 " Something which happened to make me doubt 
 you, and that hurt me bitterly and drove me wild 
 with pain and anger." 
 
 'What was that? Something which was told 
 you." 
 
 ' I was led to believe that you did not really 
 care for me — that you had only just a passing fancy 
 for my face, and that, if you yielded to it, you would 
 always be sorry for having broken faith with another 
 woman." 
 
 Kenward drew a deep breath as if he had been 
 hurt. 
 
 ' Were you told who that woman was?" ' 
 
 She, too, winced with pain and a gnawing terror 
 which, since it had come upon her first, she had 
 striven her best to crush out of life. 
 
 " It was true, then?" she said very low. " You 
 had no right to come to me?" 
 
 " I had only the right of a man who loved you — 
 a man no better than many another man who has 
 forged for himself unlawful fetters, and perhaps no 
 worse. I make no pretence to being a saint. I've 
 lived the life of men of the world — a life you know
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 
 
 279 
 
 nothing of and need never know. I've done what 
 yon would consider very evil . . . because you 
 don't understand the base nature in man which 
 makes it a necessity to him to love, and causes him 
 to love in so many degrees and fashions. To a good 
 woman as you are, love means only one thing. To 
 us men it means many things, until at last, and 
 once only in our lives, the true angel of love appears 
 in our path, and we are rebaptized and regenerated, 
 and unworthy love is henceforward an impossibil- 
 ity to us. So it was that, unworthy as I knew my- 
 self, I still dared to hope that our lives might be 
 one." 
 
 He had got up from the bench, and was stand- 
 ing over her, his face working with emotion. She, 
 too, had risen, and her eyes were searching his, and 
 seemed to beseech him to destroy the indeterminate 
 horror which was rising between them and blotting 
 out all her previous conception of him. 
 
 " Don't," she said — " don't tell me any more; 
 I'd rather not know that you were bad." 
 
 " Nulma, you must know me as I am. I said 
 that there should be truth between us, and I will 
 tell you everything — everything that I can tell you. 
 There are things in a man's life which affect others 
 — whom he is bound to guard, and of which he may 
 not speak, even to his wife. But I cannot let you 
 go on believing me a mere brute — believing I could 
 turn from you to another as the fancy took me. 
 Nulma, give me your hands."
 
 28o NULMA. 
 
 She made a motion as if she would have re- 
 fused, but he seized her two hands and held them 
 again tight against his breast. 
 
 "You must at least know this," he said: "the 
 — the bond of which you were told had been broken 
 before I ever met you. There's no need to speak 
 of it. I owe that, at any rate -" 
 
 " Oh," she interrupted with a sharp exclama- 
 tion of pain, " don't hurt me more than you can 
 help!" 
 
 " / hurt you! Oh, my darling, my darling! when 
 I think of the long hopeless years to come, I feel 
 that I could die to make you happy. But there'd 
 be no use in that, Nulma; you wouldn't be happy 
 if I were gone out of your life for ever; you'd want 
 me to stay and be happy with you. For you love 
 me, dearest; you have told me so." 
 
 " No," she cried; " you are wrong, and you are 
 gone out of my life for ever. I did love you; I do 
 still love that other you, who yet was never you, 
 and I shall always love him and think of him as my 
 girl's ideal, standing high and apart from all other 
 men, but who is dead, or, indeed, who only existed 
 in a girl's dream." 
 
 " Not in a girl's dream, Nulma, but in a woman's 
 real living forgiving love. Don't shrink from me, 
 dear angel. Forgive me, and take me into your 
 heart, and believe that my eternal love for you is 
 great enough to bridge over the gulf between angels 
 and erring men. Forgive me, Nulma! "
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 2 8l 
 
 She shook her head wildly, and tried to take 
 away her hands. 
 
 " Let me go; I don't want ever to see you 
 again." 
 
 " Nulma, it is impossible that I can let you go 
 like this. Do you think I am going to give you 
 up, knowing that you have worked yourself into a 
 scorn and loathing of me which are not deserved. 
 Bad as I am, I have not wronged you. I have not 
 been false to you." 
 
 " You have not wronged me? you have not been 
 false to me?" she repeated, in low, scathing tones. 
 " What have you been to me from the beginning 
 but a living lie?" 
 
 ; ' Be merciful, Nulma. You have exaggerated 
 the evil of a position which was false, I own, but 
 was unavoidable. If you knew the world better, 
 you would not judge me so hardly." 
 
 " I am glad that I do not know the world — your 
 world. I wished it once; I do not now." 
 
 " Heaven forbid," he answered, "that you should 
 be less innocent, less ignorant, than you are. But 
 by-and-by the horror you feel will pass, and then 
 it may be too late to take back that cruel sentence. 
 If you order me to go, I will throw up my appoint- 
 ment, and leave Leichardt's Land. But oh, Nulma, 
 there is another alternative." 
 
 She gave him a swift, piercing glance, and then 
 waited, silent, her eyes cast down. 
 
 " Dearest, you love me — in my very soul I know
 
 282 NULMA. 
 
 it; and I love you and cling to you as to the hope 
 of salvation. 1 can't give yon up. We have been 
 sacrificed, both of us — I through my own miser- 
 able sin and folly, and you innocently through me. 
 Your marriage has been a hideous blunder; undo 
 it, before worse suffering comes. I am ready to 
 throw up my career, everything, for you, and to 
 count the world well lost if I gain you. We will 
 go to America, Europe, anywhere that you please, 
 and begin a new life together. Trust yourself to me, 
 my love — my love; you will never regret it." 
 
 He wound his arms round her, and the girl, 
 carried away by his vehemence, let him draw her to 
 him, and for a moment or two her head lay against 
 his breast, and the cold misery in her upturned face 
 seemed about to melt under the warmth of his ca- 
 ress. But the very touch of his lips roused the 
 sleeping horror. With a movement of repulsion she 
 wrenched herself free from him, and stood quivering 
 like a storm-swayed lily, reproaches shining in her 
 eyes, and rushing brokenly from her lips: 
 
 " It is wicked of you to speak to me so. You 
 take advantage of my saying that I loved you, to 
 try and make me no better than you are yourself. 
 At least, I can be faithful to something. I can be 
 faithful to a girl's dream, and I. will not let you say 
 things which are a shame and an insult to the other 
 you I loved. But you — to what are you faithful? 
 Not to your love for me, for you want to drag it 
 down to the level of that other love which you are
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 283 
 
 ashamed of. Did you ask her to leave her husband 
 for you, or did you shelter yourself under her hus- 
 band's friendship? . . . Oh, I am not innocent nor 
 ignorant any longer. ... I understand now every- 
 thing that was hidden under the talk and the laugh- 
 ing, and the pretence of enjoying life and doing the 
 right thing, and being popular and kind — kind to 
 ignorant, silly girls like me. If I had not been ig- 
 norant and silly and blind, could I have grown to 
 care for you? Wouldn't I have rushed away from 
 it all — in shame and horror? Wouldn't I have gone 
 to daddy, or to Uncle Van, as I want to go now, 
 and make them keep me safe with them. . . ? No; 
 don't say anything. W T hat is the good of excuses? 
 it's over and done with, and I'm glad — glad now. 
 And when I think of her — I know now why some- 
 times I shrank from her. Oh, the poor thing, smil- 
 ing and pretending to be happy, and her heart 
 breaking! I pity her from the depths of my soul. 
 . . . But you have no pity for her, and in time you'd 
 have come to have no pity for me." 
 
 " Nulma," he cried out despairingly, for she had 
 turned away with no further farewell, and was mov- 
 ing towards the house, " have you not one kind 
 word for me? " 
 
 She paused. 
 
 " Go to her — that other woman — and say to her 
 
 what you have said to me. It is her right, not mine. 
 
 Good-bye, Mr. Kenward. Do not come here any 
 
 more. I am going to my husband, and I will tell 
 
 19
 
 2S4 
 
 NULMA 
 
 him everything. I will ask him to take care of me 
 and keep me good." Then she nttered a little star- 
 tled cry, " Caspar! oh, Caspar! " 
 
 A man stepped from behind the trellis, and went 
 rapidly towards her, not turning one glance on Ken- 
 ward. He took her in his arms. 
 
 ' Nulma, my wife! I was close to you, waiting 
 to take care of you — to protect you even against 
 yourself. Thank God there was no need for that! " 
 
 She had flung herself upon his neck, and clung 
 to him sobbing hysterically for a moment or two. 
 Then he felt the grasp relax, and her form hung 
 inert against him. He saw her face deadly white in 
 the moonlight, and her eyes closed, and he knew 
 that she had fainted. 
 
 He carried her to the veranda, and laid her on 
 a basket-chair, while he brought restoratives and 
 chafed her hands and fanned her. Presently she 
 opened her eyes and shivered violently. 
 
 " Caspar, has he gone? " 
 
 " I don't know, dearest. If he has not gone, he 
 will go before long. Don't worry about it. You 
 are safe with me." 
 
 " You. heard, Caspar? " 
 
 " Everything, my child. I have no shame in 
 telling you that I watched your meeting, and that 
 I waited and listened to all that passed between you. 
 I need not have feared for you, my wife. I did not 
 doubt that you were brave and pure, but I knew 
 that you loved him, and I trembled for what
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 285 
 
 might come. I would have died to save you, 
 Nulma." 
 
 She clung to him anew. 
 
 " It's all over now, my foolish girlish dream. 
 Oh, Caspar, what have I done? I have ruined your 
 life, too. Our marriage is indeed a hideous blun- 
 der." 
 
 " I think not. If it were all to be done over 
 again, and I could begin here now and win you 
 as I would wish to win you, I am almost certain 
 that you would not find our marriage a hideous 
 blunder. Will you let me try, Nulma? " 
 
 She put her hand in his and stroked it softly. 
 
 " Haven't you been trying all along — to win 
 me? And I don't deserve it." 
 
 ' Not in the right way. Nulma, I'm going to 
 quote you something out of a play I'm very fond 
 of. It is called ' The Duchess of Malfi.' And these 
 are the lines: 
 
 '' ' Marriage is either heaven or hell : 
 There's no third place in it.' " 
 
 " I like that," she said; " it's true. I should like 
 you to read me the whole of that play." 
 
 " Very well. I will read it to you on winter 
 evenings in England, when we sit Darby and Joan 
 fashion by our own fireside." 
 
 "In England?" 
 
 " I'm going to take you away, Nulma, now 
 at once, and to begin my work of wooing my 
 wife."
 
 286 NULMA. 
 
 " But — oh, Caspar, it is what I longed for! But 
 the work, the business, everything that's important, 
 how can you leave it all?" 
 
 ' Nothing is of any importance in comparison 
 with what is best for you. That can be easily ar- 
 ranged. Anyhow, I'm going to set about arranging 
 it to-morrow." 
 
 She raised herself in the big chair, and her eyes 
 roamed over the garden. 
 
 ' Dearest," he said, " are you better now? 
 Would you like to go to bed?" 
 
 " What is the time, Caspar? " 
 
 :< It struck eleven not very long ago. Shall I 
 carry you to your room ? " 
 
 " No — no; I can walk. I am quite well. How 
 stupid it was of me to faint! I have never fainted 
 in my life before. . . . Caspar, it's been very lonely 
 here." 
 
 " Poor child! And these long two days you 
 have been by yourself, brooding over your sad 
 fancies." 
 
 " The place is full of ghosts," she went on. 
 " There's the ghost of daddy, who is gone for ever, 
 and of a man called Uncle Van, who was always 
 good to me, but who seems somehow to have died, 
 too; and there are the ghosts of a man and woman 
 who I think must have been fallen spirits, sent to 
 earth for each other's punishment; and there's the 
 ghost of a girl whose name was Nulma, and who is 
 dead and gone, like the rest of them. That mar-
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 287 
 
 riage service in the churches in Melbourne was her 
 burial service." 
 
 " I will take you away, dear, from all these mel- 
 ancholy dreams. I ought never to have yielded to 
 your wish of being here alone." 
 
 " No; it was good for me. I seem to have 
 learned a great deal in these two days. Perhaps 
 daddy's spirit spoke to me. All the time someone 
 or something seemed to be saying to me, There's 
 nothing so good as love. Love is the only thing. 
 Marriage without love is — what you said, Caspar. 
 And I seemed to look forward, and to see years and 
 years ahead, of loneliness and strangeness, and you 
 and I growing further apart, friends no longer as 
 we vised to be, understanding each other no longer 
 — always with that black, awful wall which mar- 
 riage raised between us, growing deeper and higher. 
 And that was why, as I sat in the garden this even- 
 ing, I cried and cried in my despair." 
 
 " Nulma," he exclaimed, " give me your trust, 
 child; take me into your life. I will be so good to 
 you. I will not exact too much; I will be patient; 
 I will wait. Some day you will come to me your- 
 self and say, ' I am your wife, Caspar.' Till then 
 I will be to you your brother, friend, whatever you 
 like best, only there must be no wall between us, 
 dearest. From this moment I destroy it." He took 
 her in his arms, and kissed her on her lips. " Hence- 
 forth, my darling, my life is yours, and your life is 
 mine, and the wall, instead of dividing us, closes
 
 288 NULMA. 
 
 us in and round, and is the wall of our home, into 
 which no other man shall come. 'That is the 
 real meaning of marriage. It is a home, not a 
 tomb." 
 
 " Heaven or hell," she repeated. " How does it 
 go? There is no third place in it." 
 
 '' Nulma," he whispered, " I am going to tell 
 you something that will show you how much I love 
 you. Dear, I had a feeling that he would come to 
 you this evening. Last night I was here; I saw 
 him in his boat; I watched him land. I knew that 
 he had seen you, and would not be content with 
 that only. I had a great fear, Nulma. I knew that 
 my wife was pure as snow and true as steel; but 
 I was afraid. And I resolved, dearest, that if your 
 love conquered, and he made you promise to give 
 your life into his keeping — then, my wife, I resolved 
 that you should be free to do so without regret or 
 dishonour." 
 
 The girl started, and looked up at him with 
 frightened eyes. 
 
 " Uncle Van, do you mean that you would have 
 gone away and left me? " 
 
 " Yes; I would have gone away — a long way, 
 my dear. I am not one of those who set great store 
 on life, and mine seems to me now only valuable 
 in so far as it contributes to your happiness. If by 
 giving it up I could secure that for you, I would 
 do so gladly." 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Van!" she cried shrilly. "You
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 
 
 289 
 
 didn't mean that — you couldn't mean that you would 
 have died for me? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, I meant it; but don't let it distress 
 you. That's all over now. I only tell you that you 
 may understand my love, and know that you need 
 never hesitate to give me your full confidence, or 
 to ask me to do anything in the world for you, 
 even to the giving up of my life. I thought it out 
 as I stood waiting and watching — to guard you, 
 my Nulma. It would have been quite simple. Nei- 
 ther you nor anyone else would have guessed the 
 truth. A fall over the landslip by the river-path, 
 which we were saying only the other day would be 
 so dangerous on a cloudy night — just the sort of 
 place where an accident might so easily hap- 
 pen " 
 
 "Caspar — oh, Caspar, my husband!" Nulma's 
 arms were round Van Vechten's neck, her slight 
 form pressed against his as she sobbed. " Oh, don't 
 kill me by saying things like that! I can't bear it. 
 I couldn't lose you now. There's no one in the world 
 cares for me as you do. I love you, Caspar!" 
 
 Then Van Vechten knew that the struggle was 
 over, and that he had won. He clasped Nulma 
 close, and their lips met in the first impassioned kiss 
 that had ever been exchanged between them. For 
 a long time she lay thus in his arms, and then he 
 said to her: 
 
 " Now I am going to take my wife home."
 
 2 90 NULMA. 
 
 From that night of memories, when Caspar Van 
 Vechten won his wife, a curtain seemed to fall be- 
 tween Nulma and her past. Kenward made a pre- 
 text for leaving Leichardt's Town on the following 
 day, and she never again saw his face in Leichardt's 
 Land. Before the Government House party came 
 back from their summer quarters on Ubi Downs, 
 Nulma and her husband had sailed for Europe, so 
 that, between her and Margot Keefe also, the cur- 
 tain dropped. 
 
 The Van Vechtens were away for several years. 
 Governor Burnside died during their absence, in the 
 fourth year of his term of Office. An impoverished 
 peer was appointed in his stead, and there reigned 
 an elderly Viscountess, deeply impressed with the 
 mission she felt had been delivered unto her, of 
 regenerating society in Leichardt's Land. Thus, 
 when Nulma again visited Government House, 
 where the opening-scenes of her girl-drama had 
 been played, the place appeared no longer the same, 
 and Lady Arthur Keefe seemed as much a ghost as 
 Lady Randal had been to her successors. With 
 this difference, perhaps, that years added honour 
 to Lady Randal's memory, and obloquy to that of 
 poor, frail Margot Keefe. 
 
 Happily for the annals of Leichardt's Land, the 
 culminating act of Lady Arthur Keefe's drama was 
 played upon another stage. Habit is strong, and a 
 clever woman, determined not to lose the man she 
 loves, and who has once loved her, will, under con-
 
 "THERE'S NO THIRD PLACE IN IT." 
 
 291 
 
 ditions of almost forced propinquity, find no great 
 difficulty in welding anew the broken chain. But 
 her later relations with Kenward and the scandal 
 they made came after the Governor's death and the 
 resignation of the Chief Justice, and have no part 
 in this story of Nulma's girlhood. 
 
 THE END.
 
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