After the escort left the bank the sensational find of gold was
whispered into a few greedy ears; then it was retailed, with large
margins, and soon found its way to the bars of public-houses, where it
was hammered into the counters with clenched fists or pewter pots.
It was noised abroad that Bill had taken lunch at the "Shearer's Arms."
A few of the astute townspeople, with their weather eye open, determined
to shepherd him and dog his footsteps. The landlord hoped to "lamb" him
down.
The Melbourne coach suddenly came out of a cloud of dust, and drew up at
the door. Bill was expecting it. He quickly paid his bill, and arranged
to send his horse to grass for three months. Then he went outside, and
sauntered up and down with the air of a man who had come to stay and
enjoy himself. The bystanders gazed their fill, and gloated over the hid
treasure that was supposed to be stowed away in his pockets.
"All aboard!" shouted the coachman from the box seat.
"Wait a moment!" said Bill while he sprang up beside him. "All right,
driver!"
The off-leader got the tip on the right ear from the whip, which wakened
his front half and made it spring in the air. Away the four horses went,
scattering a flock of geese which was picking up a living on
unconsidered trifles. There was a roar of disappointment from the astute
ones.
"Blast 'im! if 'e 'asn't give us the slip!" said one.
"D----!" said another.
Another swore at large; hissing, red-hot, as from a furnace.
Another hastily unfastened the bridle of a horse from a
hitching-post--which horse belonged to a respectable farmer--jumped on
the animal's back, and went clattering down the street in chase of the
coach. He said to himself, "He won't throw _me_ off his tracks, darn
him! I'll see where he goes!"
This man followed the coach till it was beyond the auriferous country,
and far into the night; then his horse, which had shown unmistakable
signs of giving in, refused to go another step.
At twelve o'clock next day Bill arrived in Melbourne. He did not say a
word to any one about the gold. He kept the secret locked. He had
settled it in his own mind that he was holding the money as a sacred
trust for Mary. He was only the custodian, and not the owner.
The whole affair was bordered and fringed with the miraculous.
His first concern was to find Mary. That was the platform. "Seek, and ye
shall find." That was the first plank. How it would shape who could
tell? He would try to fit all the pieces into their places in his rough
stumbling fashion, and leave a higher Power to do the smoothing and
joining. He was in love with Mary, and hoped to get "spliced" some day.
"Marriages are made in heaven." He had unbounded faith that there would
be one on earth soon.
He went to the _Argus_ office, and wrote an advertisement, in which he
described Mary and the old man as well as he could, and stated that she
would receive a legacy on application to B. M.
Next day he got an armful of letters from Marys who had lost a father,
and hoped they had found a legacy. He was astonished to find how many
girls so exactly answered the description of the Mary he was in search
of. Before night he had written and posted letters to all the
applicants, requesting them to meet him at his hotel next day.
At the hour appointed for the interview, babies in arms, children, young
women, middle-aged ones, toothless spinsters, and grandmothers, were
sent in to him, one after another, and dismissed with scant courtesy.
His Mary was not among them.
He haunted the streets by day, and the theatres by night, in the hope of
seeing her. He would know her eyes anywhere. If he met her he would
almost greet her as an old friend, so well did he seem to know her.
Weeks passed away. As he could find no tidings of her he was getting
downhearted, and was almost giving up the search, when, as he was
passing along Brunswick Street, an interesting, youthful girl came out
of a shop, and walked on before him. Something about her attracted his
attention, and he followed her. She was evidently a servant. Suddenly
she stopped at the gate of a respectable house, and turned her face
towards him. Her eyes flashed across his bows, revealing the object he
was in search of, as a harbour light reveals the port. It was his Mary!
He was not quite so sure the next moment, for her face underwent a
change. The temporary brightness had disappeared; the lights were out,
and a hopeless sorrow seemed to rest upon it. There was no feature he
could identify. He stood bewildered, and then she was gone. He was
conscious of a closing door.
"I was a fool!" he said. "Why didn't I ask her if her name was Mary, and
settle the matter off-hand, receipt the account, and think no more about
it. At the first glance I could have sworn she was Mary; at the next she
seemed to have retired behind a veil, and was not the same--only a
pretty girl with a melancholy cast of countenance. My imagination is
playing tricks."
His hands shook, and his knees trembled. He supported himself by the
railings in front of the house. Looking up, he saw a policeman eyeing
him with suspicion, so he walked away to avoid being made a
gazing-stock.
When he got to the end of the block, he upbraided himself for not making
inquiries at the house into which the girl entered. He went back, and
stood at the railings, taking a mental inventory of the house from the
sky line to the earth line. A notice in the window, that board and
residence might be had within, gave him an idea. He had thought of
changing his lodgings, so he would knock at the door and make inquiries.
He rapped, and a servant came. He had expected that the other girl would
appear, and flash her eyes at him as before.
"I came to make inquiries about board and residence," he stammered.
"I'll call Mrs. Blenners; walk in, sir."
He walked in, and Mrs. Blenners walked in behind him. She had seen him
from the window, and was ready, like a tug steamer, to take him in tow,
and bring him to good anchorage, with room to swing between the front
parlour and the best bedroom, where he might spend his days in comfort
and his nights in peace.
He looked at the best bedroom, and inspected the front parlour. He liked
them; then hummed and hesitated, and had a question on the tip of his
tongue about the girl he had followed, but drew it back just in time, as
he reflected that so prim and well-starched a lady as Mrs. Blenners
would extinguish him as she would a candle, and leave him in the
dark--then farewell to further inquiry in this quarter.
Seeing him hesitate, and thinking he might slip through her fingers, she
went into action, and fired argument, persuasion, and flattery at him.
Before he knew his whereabouts he was carried by storm, and surrendered,
paying the first indemnity in the shape of a fortnight's board and
lodging.
"I shall come to-morrow," he said.
He went to his hotel, but could not rest. The face he had seen visited
him in the night, and he was sleepless. Sometimes he felt sure he had
found Mary, and was glad; but doubts would march in again, and his hopes
were elbowed out of the way.