“I will,” Frank said to himself, as he strode on in the darkness. “No one can say I have not stuck to it like a man. It’s nearly two years since I came down. By Jove, it seems to me I have been here an age. I’ll tell Katie to-night that I give it up. Australia will be a joke to this. Thank God, here I am home.” A bright light streamed out through the door, and a bright face came to open it as her ears caught the sound of his tread on the gravel. “Well, dear, how are you?—very tired, poor old boy. There, sit down, Frank; I’ll unlace your boots. Hannah, bring some hot water for your master. Tea is all ready, Frank, and I’ve got some sausages for you. Here’s your coat, dear, and your slippers. Now you look comfortable.” “And what did you have for dinner, Katie?” “I?” Kate asked. “Oh, Charley and I had cold meat. He’s such a good little fellow, Frank,” she added, hastily, but Frank paid no attention to the latter remark. “Cold meat!” he half groaned to himself; “there was not a scrap left; I had to pick the bones last night.” “There was plenty, Frank,” Kate said, anxiously, “and we had rice pudding, too. By-the-bye, Frank,” she said, suddenly, “there is a parcel come for you. I’ve been wondering all day what it could be. No, I won’t open it till you’ve begun your tea. There, now I’ll open it. Two covers, three covers; how carefully it is done up, Frank. There—why, it is a jewel-case. Oh, Frank, what a splendid chain—what a superb chain!” It was a magnificent chain, of full length for a lady, made of rough gold, alternated with large pearls, and as thick as a man’s little finger. Frank and Kate both gazed at it in astonishment. “Good gracious,” Frank said, “who in the world has sent you that, Katie? What a present for a woman whose husband can’t earn a dinner for her!” he added bitterly. “Frank, you shan’t talk like that,” Kate said, forgetting all about the chain, and going round to Frank. “Oh, Frank, you will break my heart if you do. Let us only hope for the best, dear, and all will come right.” “I’ve made up my mind to-day, Katie, that I won’t stay here any longer.” “Thank God,” Kate said fervently. “Anything—anything will be better than this. Oh, Frank,” and she cried on his neck, “I am so glad, dear. I would not propose it, but oh, I have so wished you would. What are you thinking of doing?” “We will talk it over, Katie, after tea. You are forgetting your chain. Who can have sent it?” Kate took it out of its case, and held it up. “Oh, Frank, what a magnificent chain to be sure; and what a curious one, with such rough gold and such splendid pearls. Can it be real, Frank?” “I don’t know, Kate; is there no letter? look in the top of the case.” “Oh, yes, Frank, here is a little note, addressed to me—Mrs. Frank Maynard. “BALLAARAT. “MRS. MAYNARD,—