Brandon took up his abode at the York Hotel, of course, and met with some pleasant people in and about Adelaide.  Some of them he had known in London, and they introduced him to others.  If his heart had not been fixed at this present time on Elsie Melville, he might have taken a fancy to one of the Adelaide girls whom he met.  They were not so formidable in the array of their accomplishments and acquirements as the modern English young lady; they were frank, agreeable, and not ignorant of domestic matters, and they had no apparent horror of the bush.  But Brandon’s affections were really engaged, and he put considerable restraint on his flirting powers during this visit, which all engaged men ought to do, but which, I must say, I have found very few engaged men do; they feel so perfectly safe themselves that they care very little for what construction other people may put on their attentions, or their polite speeches.

Brandon had sent directions for Mr. Talbot to get his letters and forward them to him in Adelaide, for he was now daily expecting Elsie’s answer.  In case of his being accepted, he would cross over to Melbourne in time to receive her from the next mail-steamer, would marry her there, and take her home to Barragong, and thus save himself two long land journeys.

But the mail-steamer had come with the Adelaide mails, and the next after that with his own letters, but not a word from Elsie or from any of the Phillipses.  He had had a few lines from Emily the preceding month, to say that dear little Eva was dead, and that they were all getting better.  The address was either in Jane’s hand writing or in Elsie’s, but he took if for granted that it was Elsie’s, and had treasured it up in consequence of that supposition.  But this month there was not a word from any of them.  There had been plenty of time for an answer, for his letter had been sent via Marseilles, so that Elsie had had ten days clear to make up her mind and reply to what she ought to have thought an important communication.

It was using him extremely ill to treat his letter with so much contempt.  He was never more near being very angry in his life.  It was strange that Elsie Melville, whose manner was so remarkably gentle and winning, should on two important occasions have treated him with such marked discourtesy.  No doubt, his letter was not worth very much in itself; but to him it was great consequence.  If she wanted a month for consideration, why not write and tell him so?  Or, if she feared to commit herself, she might have got Jane to write.  Could she have taken the fever?  That was a solution—­but a very sad one—­of her conduct.  Jane would have certainly written in that case if she had not got the fever too.  He would alter his plans:  he would go back overland; or, rather, he would sail up the Murray, and not pass through Melbourne at all.  So he took his passage and Edgar’s by one of the Murray steamers, and felt that if he was not a very ill-used man, he ought to feel a very unhappy one.