‘There’s somethin’ I’d like you to be doin’ fer me afore you go, mate,’ said Ben Kyley to Jim one evening.

’Well, you know I’ll do it.

‘I reckoned you would.  You see, I’ve been thinkin’ of marryin’ my wife, an’ I’d like you to be bes’ man.’

‘You’ve been thinking!’ cried Mary.  ’No, Jimmy, I’ve been doing the thinking:  Kyley merely agrees.  One of these days we’re going to build a big hotel in Ballarat, and settle down.  It won’t be till the rushes peg out, as they’re bound to do in time; but certificates of marriage are getting quite common amongst married people here, and we thought it would be as well to be in the fashion.’  Mrs. Ben laughed boisterously.

‘Well,’ said Jim, smiling, ’a couple who disagree as pleasantly as you do can’t go far wrong in marrying.’

‘The customers at a decent family hotel would expect it, I think,’ Mary added soberly.

’Jonathan Prator married his wife a week ‘r two back, an’ he’s skitin’ about it,’ grumbled Ben.

So Jim remained for the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Ben Kyley, which was quite a public ceremony.  He was Ben’s best man, and he gave the rosy bride the prettiest brooches, rings, and bangles he could buy in Ballarat, and left, the blushless couple to the enjoyment of their honeymoon with his warmest blessing.  Mary nearly smothered him in a billowy hug as he was trying to thank them for their goodness.

‘Leave a kind word for my poor girl,’ she said, ’and the minute she comes back I’ll write you.’

’Tell her I shall be a miserable devil till I hear of her dancing jigs on Mary Kyley’s bar counter again,’ said Jim.  ’And tell her she wrongs me when she says there is nothing of her in this heart of mine.  She is an ineradicable part of it.’

Done found the Peetrees working a fairly profitable mine at Blanket Flat, a sort of tributary field to Jim Crow, and situated about three miles distant from the original rush.  Harry stood in with Done, and the two pegged out a claim and set to work; but Jim did not derive the satisfaction he had expected from this return to his friends and his familiar pursuits.  His weakness clung to him, and he was subject to pains in the head.  His missed Mike more than ever now, and permitted the idea that he had blasted Aurora’s happiness to worry him a good deal.  He remembered the blithe heartiness of the girl in the early days of their acquaintance, and the image of the pale, worn face he had last seen haunted him with an abiding reproach.  He could not enjoy the life, the scenes, and the companionship that had delighted him, and believed the capacity would never come back to him.

He had been on Blanket Flat less than a fortnight when one morning Harry thrust his head into the tent.

‘Blowed if there ain’t a lady here to see you, Jim!’ he said.

‘A lady?’ Jim’s first thought was of Aurora.  ‘Don’t you know her?’

He stepped from the tent as he spoke, and was astonished to find that his visitor was Lucy Woodrow.  She was riding a splendid bay horse, and leading a small, sturdy-looking chestnut, and was dust-stained and tired.  Her face was gray with anxiety.  She did not smile as he approached her, but held a letter towards him.