‘Married!’ echoed Antonia, as she felt the tide of life arrested in her veins for one moment, and, with the next, course wildly back to her beating heart. ‘Married, Mr. Baldacre, and why not? But papa often hears from him, don’t you, pappy, and he never mentioned it.’ ‘Mentioned it! I should think not,’ growled Paul, with a leonine accent, as scenting danger. ‘I heard from him, let me see, a month or two back. I don’t believe a word of it. Who to?’ ‘Well, _I saw the young lady_,’ persisted Baldacre, wholly unabashed, while he noted Antonia’s pale and unmoved features. ‘I went up in the coach with her, half way to Rainbar. She’s a cousin of his own; same name. Just out from England, and ever so rich.’ ‘How the deuce should she go alone up to Rainbar?’ said Paul, full of doubt and dread. ‘Surely _we_ should have heard of her, when she landed.’ ‘She told me that she made up her mind suddenly to come out to him—did not let him know, and only stayed a week in Sydney, at Petty’s.’ ‘Most romantic!’ said Antonia, driving the unseen dagger more deeply into her heart, after the fashion of her sex, but smiling and forcing a piteous and unreal gaiety; ‘and was she fair to look upon—a blonde or brunette? Mr. Baldacre, you were evidently in her confidence; you cannot escape a description.’ ‘She was very good-looking indeed,’ said the ruthless Hardy, who had been struck with Augusta’s fresh complexion and insular manner. ‘She wore a gold eyeglass, which looked odd; but she was very clever, and all that kind of thing, as any one could see.’ ‘Even Mr. Baldacre,’ said Antonia, with a sarcastic acknowledgment. ‘You must have had a delightful journey. You will tell me any other particulars that occur to you in the drawing-room. I feel quite interested.’ Here the faint signal passed which proclaims the withdrawal of the lady _convives_ and the temporary separation of the sexes. What mysterious rites are celebrated above by the assembled maids and matrons, freed awhile from the disturbing influence of the male element? Does a wholly unaffected, perhaps unamused expression possess those lovely features, erst so full of every virtue showing forth in every look? Do they exchange confidences? Do they _trust_ each other? Do they doff their uniforms, and appear unarmed, save with truth, innocence, simplicity? _Quien sabe?_