The wreck was never mentioned in the sick-room, nor did Nan guess that an inquest on the bodies was held within a few yards of where she lay. Yet it was she who eventually broke the ice. "Is Mr. Dent still here?" she asked, but in a tone so magnificently offhand that a less astute person than Mrs. Kitto would have detected its anxiety as soon. "He was this morning," replied Mrs. Kitto, smiling. "Do you mean that he isn't now?" the girl demanded, half-rising on an elbow. "No. I think I should have heard of it if he had thought of leaving us to-day." Nan Merridew fell back upon her pillow. "I wish he would go on board," she said petulantly, "if he is going." "On board?" queried Mrs. Kitto; and she set down her work. "Isn't he to be one of the officers on the ship we are all going home by?" "I didn't know of it," said Mrs. Kitto, with equal embarrassment and surprise. "But he is," declared the girl, with all an invalid's impatience. "I understood that from papa the day he came; he had spoken to the agents, or he was going to speak to them, and Denis--I mean Mr. Dent--was to have the best berth they could give him. I do wish he would go on board. I--I almost wish he hadn't saved my life!" And she tossed her face to the wall, for it was burning as it had burned so often since her deliverance. "It's meeting him again," said Mrs. Kitto to herself; "and she does care for him, or she would mind less." It made it all the harder to ask aloud, "Did your father say he had succeeded, dear?" "We have never mentioned Mr. Dent again," said Nan to that, quite haughtily. "Because I don't think he's sailing in the _Memnon_ at all," continued Mrs. Kitto, gently. "I think he's going to the diggings instead." "Going where?" the girl asked after a pause. The first sentence was all that she had heard. "To Ballarat or Bendigo--to make his fortune." "I hope he'll succeed," said Nan, after a pause; but her voice was a sweet bell jangled, and an hour went before she turned her face from the wall. It was still red, but there was a subtle difference in the shade. And in the hazel eyes, which were the most obvious of Miss Merridew's natural attractions, there was a crude, new light. "I am going to get up," said she. Mrs. Kitto proved not unprepared for the announcement; it appeared that all her needlework had been for Nan, and now it was as though the last stitch had just been put into everything. It was all a surprise to the girl, who had not given the matter a thought. She was to get a fresh outfit at Geelong, before the ship sailed, but Mrs. Kitto insisted on sending her so far equipped by herself. And the dress which the kind soul had been so busy altering was almost the last remnant of her own trousseau, and some years behind the fashion.