‘Next year,’ said Mr Wopples, at a supper which they had to celebrate the success of their tour, ’we’ll have a theatre in Melbourne, and I’ll make it the favourite house of the city, see if I don’t.’

It seemed, therefore, as though Kitty had found her vocation, and would develop into an operatic star, but fate intervened, and Miss Marchurst retired from the stage, which she had adorned so much.  This was due to Madame Midas, who, driving down Collins Street one day, saw Kitty at the corner walking with Fanny Wopples.  She immediately stopped her carriage, and alighting therefrom, went straight up to the girl, who, turning and seeing her for the first time, grew deadly pale.

‘Kitty, my dear,’ said Madame, gravely, ’I have been looking for you vainly for a year—­but I have found you at last.’

Kitty’s breast was full of conflicting emotions; she thought that Madame knew all about her intimacy with Vandeloup, and that she would speak severely to her.  Mrs Villiers’ next words, however, reassured her.

‘You left Ballarat to go on the stage, did you not?’ she said kindly, looking at the girl; ’why did you not come to me?—­you knew I was always your friend.’

‘Yes, Madame,’ said Kitty, putting out her hand and averting her head, ’I would have come to you, but I thought you would stop me from going.’

‘My dear child,’ replied Madame, ’I thought you knew me better than that; what theatre are you at?’

‘She’s with us,’ said Miss Fanny, who had been staring at this grave, handsomely-dressed lady who had alighted from such a swell carriage; ‘we are the Wopples Family.’

‘Ah!’ said Mrs Villiers, thinking, ’I remember, you were up at Ballarat last year.  Well, Kitty, will you and your friend drive down to St Kilda with me, and I’ll show you my new house?’

Kitty would have refused, for she was afraid Madame Midas would perhaps send her back to her father, but the appealing looks of Fanny Wopples, who had never ridden in a carriage in her life, and was dying to do so, decided her to accept.  So they stepped into the carriage, and Mrs Villiers told the coachman to drive home.

As they drove along, Mrs Villiers delicately refrained from asking Kitty any questions about her flight, seeing that a stranger was present, but determined to find out all about it when she got her alone down at St Kilda.

Kitty, on her part, was thinking how to baffle Madame’s inquiries.  She knew she would be questioned closely by her, and resolved not to tell more than she could help, as she, curiously enough—­considering how he had treated her—­wished to shield Vandeloup.  But she still cherished a tender feeling for the man she loved, and had Vandeloup asked her to go back and live with him, would, no doubt, have consented.  The fact was, the girl’s nature was becoming slightly demoralised, and the Kitty who sat looking at Madame Midas now—­ though her face was as pretty, and her eyes as pure as ever—­was