'Small obstacles! That is very well, but surely you don't intend to go up to the diggings and to horrid places in the bush all by yourself?' 'That is just what I _do_ intend, my dear Mrs. Vernon,--neither more nor less. I have thought over the matter scores--yes, hundreds of times--and I can see no other way. If I merely wished to see the country I might arrange things differently. But I have one important, principal, all-absorbing purpose in view. It is my star. I fix my eye on that, and all other things, even those which appear to be insuperable difficulties, must give way.' 'Dangers and difficulties, traps and pitfalls, do all those count for nothing in your list of drawbacks?' 'I must use a man's argument. I see other women have done--are doing the same--why not I? Suppose I were a sempstress or a poor governess on her way to an engagement, should I not have to do the same?--to travel unattended; to take my chance of rough or uncongenial companionship? Why am I so much more precious than other girls of my age, that I have to be fenced round with so many precautions?' 'All this is fine talking, my dear Miss Chaloner, and it's very nice of you to say so; but a young lady of position and fortune cannot--_must not_--travel about by herself as if she were a barmaid or a music-hall singer. There _is_ a difference beside that of age and sex--and the disagreeables--you have no idea of the nature of them.' 'I don't know much about them, though I may partly guess, my dear Mrs. Vernon, but we Chaloners and Trevanions are said in Cornwall to be an obstinate race. My mind is made up. I must take a seat in the Ballarat coach for next Monday.' 'I am afraid you _are_ an obstinate girl,' said Mrs. Vernon good-naturedly. 'Well, a wilful woman must, I suppose, have her own way. I have relieved my mind, at any rate. Now the next thing is to see how we can help you in your perilous adventure. Let me think. Do I know any Ballarat people? No, but Mr. Vernon does; if not, his friends do, which comes to the same thing.' 'I hope that you won't take all this trouble about me,' said Estelle earnestly. 'I know how to get there, with my own unaided intelligence. You would be surprised how much I know about Port Phillip from books and newspapers.' 'And you are bent upon acquiring your own colonial experience? Well, my dear, it may be all for the best in the end; but if you were a daughter of mine I should not have one happy moment from the time I lost sight of you till you returned. Do you know any one at Ballarat, or have you letters to people there?' 'There is one gentleman there whom I seem to know quite well through my cousin's letters. He was never tired of praising him. He spoke of him as his best friend. His name was Charles Stirling. He was a banker. Then there was a Mr. Hastings, and John Polwarth, Lance's partner,--both miners.'