‘That depends upon yourself, Bebe,’ he said rapidly, pressing her burning cheek against his own; ‘your father would never consent to my marriage, and I can’t take you away from Ballarat without suspicions, so--’ ‘Yes?’ said Kitty, eagerly, looking at him. ‘You must run away,’ he whispered, with a caressing smile. ‘Alone?’ ‘For a time, yes,’ he answered, throwing away his cigarette; ‘listen--next week you must meet me here, and I will give you money to keep you in Melbourne for some time; then you must leave Ballarat at once and wait for me at the Buttercup Hotel in Gertrude Street, Carlton; you understand?’ ‘Yes,’ faltered Kitty, nervously; ‘I--I understand.’ ‘And you will come?’ he asked anxiously, looking keenly at her, and pressing the little hand he held in his own. Just as she was going to answer, as if warning her of the fatal step she was about to take, a low roll of thunder broke on their ears, and Kitty shrank back appalled from her lover’s embrace. ‘No! no! no!’ she almost shrieked, hysterically, trying to tear herself away from his arms, ‘I cannot; God is speaking.’ ‘Bah!’ sneered Vandeloup, with an evil look on his handsome face, ‘he speaks too indistinctly for us to guess what he means; what are you afraid of? I will join you in Melbourne in two or three weeks, and then we will be married.’ ‘But my father,’ she whispered, clasping her hot hands convulsively. ‘Well, what of him?’ asked Vandeloup, coolly; ‘he is so wrapped up in his religion that he will not miss you; he will never find out where you are in Melbourne, and by the time he does you will be my wife. Come,’ he said, ardently, whispering the temptation in her ear, as if he was afraid of being heard, ‘you must consent; say yes, Bebe; say yes.’ She felt his hot breath on her cheek, and felt rather than saw the scintillations of his wonderful eyes, which sent a thrill through her; so, utterly exhausted and worn out by the overpowering nervous force possessed by this man, she surrendered. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, clinging to him with dry lips and a beating heart; ‘I will come!’ Then her overstrained nature gave way, and with a burst of tears she threw herself on his breast. Gaston let her sob quietly for some time, satisfied with having gained his end, and knowing that she would soon recover. At last Kitty grew calmer, and drying her eyes, she rose to her feet wan and haggard, as if she was worn out for the want of sleep, and not by any manner of means looking like a girl who was in love. This appearance was caused by the revolt of her religious training against doing what she knew was wrong. In her breast a natural instinct had been fighting against an artificial one; and as Nature is always stronger than precept, Nature had conquered. ‘My dear Bebe,’ said Vandeloup, rising also, and kissing her white cheek, ‘you must go home now, and get a little sleep; it will do you good.’ ‘But you?’ asked Kitty, in a low voice, as they walked slowly along.