“The very ugliest things you ever saw—­and as for grandeur or freshness, I never saw or felt it.  The finest prospect I could see in Victoria is the prospect of getting out of it, particularly now that the diggings have spoiled the colony.  We cannot forget Old England.”

“Oh! of course I like patriotism,” said Miss Rennie; “no country can be to us like the land of our birth.”

“But I think we should try to like the land of adoption also,” said Jane.  “The Anglo-Saxons have been called the best of colonists, because they have adapted themselves so well to all sorts of climates and all sorts of circumstances.”

“True—­true enough,” said Mr. Brandon.  “The Adelaide men who came across to the diggings used to talk with the greatest enthusiasm about their colony, their farms, their gardens, their houses, their society.  I fancied that it was because they left it for a rougher life, and that Adelaide was like a little England to them; but, perhaps, the poor fellows really liked the place.  At any rate, almost all of them returned, though Victoria appeared to be by far the most prosperous colony.  But I made an excellent colonist, in spite of my never becoming much attached to the place.  I adapted myself to sheep wonderfully, and to black pipes and cabbage-tree hats, and all the other amenities of bush life; and now, Miss Rennie, will you be good enough to adapt yourself to me for a quadrille?”

Miss Rennie was not engaged, so she could not refuse.  Elsie saw that her cousin wished to talk to her; she feared it was to be on the subject which was the most painful of all—­her unfortunate poems.  She fancied that he must think her presumptuous in her old ambition, and dreaded his condolences; so she made some pretext to move away out of hearing of his conversation with Jane, and stood by the hired musicians, who were the most unlikely persons in the room to know anything about her or her disappointment.  Standing there, with her slight and graceful form stooping slightly, and her face cast down, Miss Rennie again pointed her out to Mr. Brandon, of whose dancing she was tired, and to whom she wished to talk, asking him if he did not think her a lovely creature, and explaining the very peculiar circumstances in which the two girls were placed.

“They have been well educated, papa says, but very peculiarly, so that their prospects are not the better for it.  We live in a frivolous age, Mr. Brandon.  I do not take much interest in Jane, but Elsie is a very sweet girl.”

The Australian settler looked again more closely at Elsie, and acknowledged to himself, as well as to Miss Rennie, that she was certainly elegant.

“Shall we go to her now? she looks so deserted, Mr. Brandon.  Oh!  Mr. Malcolm, I must introduce you to Miss Melville’s sister.”

“And co-heiress in misfortune,” said the young lawyer, shrugging his shoulder.

“She is lovely—­come,” said Miss Rennie.  She took both gentlemen across the room.  Elsie started when she saw them coming close up to her.