Once safely at Wychwood, who would recognise in the proud heir of this historical estate the erstwhile miner, the unjustly treated prisoner? Then what would be her part in his future life? True, he made no reference to her; perhaps in a letter to a friend, chiefly on business matters, such were hardly likely. Still, to such a friend as Mr. Stirling, so nobly steadfast and true-hearted, he _might_ have said a word about his poor Estelle in the lonely manor-house, as he would picture her. But he was safe, free, almost happy in the enjoyment of his lately acquired liberty. That was happiness sufficient for the present. It would be time enough in the future to cherish other thoughts. Then walking forward with cleared brow and a resolved air she soon reached Mrs. Polwarth's cottage, before the door of which Tottie, evidently expectant, descried her and ran in to report. 'Why, you're quite late to-day, Miss,' said the good woman. 'I began to think you were never coming, and Tottie's been along the track as far as I'd let her. Sit ye down and rest. Is there anything fresh? We heard as the Ballarat men was talking of "rolling up" if the licenses wasn't lowered.' 'Yes, Mrs. Polwarth, there is news, but not about licenses; a letter has come by the mail to-day--this very day only, think of that!--from--from _him_.' 'Not from Mr. Lance; you don't say so, Miss? Who'd iver have thought on it? And is he well, has he gotten oot o' the country? The Lord bless and keep him, wherever he is.' 'I trust He will, in His great goodness and mercy. It seems so wonderful, after all these weary months, that I should actually have his letter--his own letter written to Mr. Stirling--this week here--here!' and she drew forth the priceless treasure, as it seemed in her eyes, and again devoured it with hungry regard. Then, half replying to Mrs. Polwarth's questions, half giving vent to long-pent-up feelings which, in the presence of a tried friend of her own sex, humble in social station as she might be, flowed freely and unrestrainedly, Estelle Chaloner poured her heart out. After which she experienced a feeling of intense relief, and was enabled to confer rationally with Mrs. Polwarth about her course of action. 'I had fully intended, as you know, to go into Ballarat on Monday,' she said, 'and therefore there will be no change of plan. The difference will only be that before this dear letter came'--here she gazed earnestly at the well-known handwriting--'I had no earthly idea in what direction I should go after leaving Melbourne. Now I _do_ know, and oh, how differently I feel!' 'Yes, I daresay,' said Mrs. Polwarth doubtfully; 'but then, Miss, how are you to get to Omeo? It's a mighty rough place, everybody says, a dreadful bad road, and worse a'most when you get there. Don't you think it would be more prudent-like to wait a bit and let Mr. Stirling write to him as you're here?'