discarded her old hat and put on new ribbons, not for him, but for another,—­was too conscious of the desolation to which he would be subjected by quarrelling with his friend.  He felt himself unable to go alone, and was therefore willing that the bygones of the ship should be bygones.  Caldigate, on the other hand, acknowledged to himself that he owed some reparation to his companion.  Of course he had not bound himself to any special mode of life;—­but had he, in his present condition, allied himself more closely to Mrs. Smith, he would, to some extent, have thrown Dick over.  And then, as soon as he was on shore, he did feel somewhat ashamed of himself in regard to Mrs. Smith.  Was it not manifest that any closer alliance, let the alliance be what it might, must be ruinous to him?  As it was, had he not made an absolute fool of himself with Mrs. Smith?  Had he not got himself already into a mess from which there was no escape?  Of course he must write to her when the month was over.  The very weight of his thoughts on this matter made him tamer with Dick and more observant than he would otherwise have been.

They were during those two days frequently about the town, looking at the various streets and buildings, at the banks and churches and gardens,—­as is usual with young men when they visit a new town; but, during it all, Caldigate’s mind was more intent on Mrs. Smith than he was on the sights of the place.  Melbourne is not so big but that she might easily have thrown herself in his way had she pleased.  Strangers residing in such a town are almost sure to see each other before twenty-four hours are gone.  But Mrs. Smith was not seen.  Two or three times he went up and down Collins Street alone, without his friend, not wishing to see her,—­aware that he had better not see her,—­but made restless by a nervous feeling that he ought to wish to see her, that he should, at any rate, not keep out of her way.  But Mrs. Smith did not show herself.  Whatever might be her future views, she did not now take steps to present herself to him.  ’I shall be so much the more bound to present myself to her,’ he said to himself.  ’But perhaps she knows all that,’ he added in the same soliloquy.

On the Wednesday morning they left Melbourne by the 6 A.M. train for Albury, which latter place they reached the same day, about 2 P.M., having then crossed the Murray river, and passed into the colony of New South Wales.  Here they stayed but a few hours and then went on by coach on their journey to Nobble.  From one wretched vehicle they were handed on to another, never stopping anywhere long enough to go to bed,—­three hours at one wretched place and five at another,—­travelling at the rate of six miles an hour, bumping through the mud and slush of the bush roads, and still going on for three days and three nights.  This was roughing it indeed.  Even Dick complained, and said that, of all the torments prepared for wicked mortals on earth, this Australian coaching was the