“Some one must have done so,” said Angela. “I wanted to ask you, Lancey, about advertising for my little Lena’s people; the Bishop said I ought.” “I say,” exclaimed Bernard, “was it her father that was Fulbert’s mate? I thought he was afraid of your taking up with him. You didn’t?” “No, no. Let me tell you, I want you to know. Field and a little wife came over from Melbourne prospecting for a place to sit down in. They had capital, but the poor wife was worn out and ill, and after taking them in for a night, Fulbert liked them. Field was an educated man and a gentleman, and Ful offered them to stay there in partnership. So they stayed, and by and by this child was born, and the poor mother died. The two great bearded men came galloping over to Albertstown from Carrigaboola, with this new born baby, smaller than even Theodore was, and I had the care of her from the very first, and Field used to ride over and see the little thing.” “And—?” said Bernard, in a rather teasing voice, as his eyes actually looked at Angela’s left hand. “I’ll own it _did_ tempt me. I had had some great disappointments with my native women, running wild again, and I could not bear my child having a horrid stepmother; and there was the glorious free bush life, and the horses and the sheep! But then I thought of you all saying Angel had broken out again; and by and by Fulbert came and told me that he was sure there was some ugly mystery, and spoke to Mother Constance, and they made me promise not to take him unless it was cleared up. Then, as you know, dear Ful’s horse fell with him; Field came and fetched me to their hut, and I was there to the last. Ful told each of us again that all must be plain and explained before we thought of anything in the future. He, Henry Field, said he had great hopes that he should be able to set it right. Then, as you know, there was no saving dear Fulbert, and after that Mother Constance’s illness began. Oh! Bear, do you recollect her coming in and mothering us in the little sitting-room? I could not stir from her, of course, while she was with us. And after that, Harry Field came and said he had written a letter to England, and when the answer came, he would tell me all, and I should judge! But I don’t think the answer ever did come, and he went to Brisbane to see if it was at the bank; and there he caught a delirious fever, and there was an end of it!” At that moment something between a whine or a call of “sister” was heard. Up leapt Angela and hurried away, while Lance observed, “Well! That’s averted, but I am sorry for her.” “It was not love,” said Robina. “Or only for the child,” said Bernard; “and that would have been a dangerous speculation.” “The child or something else has been very good for her,” said Lance; “I never saw her so gentle and quiet.”