I had arranged with my cousin to take a plain dinner with me at one o’clock, and we were then to take a turn in the West End. But for this having been settled, I must have sought him at his house at once, and traced him to wherever he might have gone, so crazy was I with the eagerness and hope my extraordinary, startling idea had raised in me. I could not bear to sit alone; never did time pass so slowly; I’d look at the clock and find that only a few minutes had passed, when I could swear that half an hour was gone. I put on my hat and walked toward Whitechapel, and paused at the window of every marine outfitter’s shop I came to. From one of these shops a black-looking fellow with a great hooked nose and a white hat stepped forth and accosted me in a thick lisp. He asked me what I would like to buy. I pointed to a monkey jacket in his window, and inquired the price. He said I should have it, a bargain, and named four pounds. I was moving on, when he begged me not to be in a hurry. Would I give three pounds ten shillings? I told him that I did not wish to buy; he followed me a considerable distance, lisping first in one ear and then in the other: ‘Vhat vould you give? Vould you give three pounds? Vould you give fifty bob and an old dress? Have you any old shilver to exchange or shell?’ He quitted me at last; but though I looked into other outfitters’ shops, I asked no more questions. When I reached home, I found that my cousin had arrived. I ran up to him, and exclaimed: ‘Will, I have heard from Tom! Read the letter! Here it is! It reached me this morning!’ He said with a grimace: ‘The very paper they make them use has an Old Bailey look.’ He then read the letter, and cried out: ‘Why, Marian, this seems as though we were to take him!’ ‘Yours is the only ship, Will. I am certain Tom will go with you. Is it not extraordinary?’ He looked at the letter again and said: ‘The dates tally. I was at the office of the owners yesterday, and I learn that we sail about the 12th. But Tom speaks here of Van Diemen’s Land. That’s certainly not known at the office. I asked the question, and they said it was not known whether it was to be Launceston or Hobart Town or Sydney.’ ‘It will be all the same,’ I replied, ‘so long as he goes in your ship.’ ‘I hope it won’t be to Norfolk Island, for his sake. You look strange, Marian. What’s put all that fire into your eyes? And you breathe as if you’d been running. Tom’s letter has upset you.’ ‘It has done me so much good that I feel almost a child again, Will.’ He took the letter from me to look at it, as though my words had made him doubt that he had gathered its import. ‘But, Marian,’ said he, ‘he’ll be leaving the country next month.’ ‘Well, dear?’ ‘Isn’t that separation? I mean, it’s not like having him within reach of even a three-month visit.’ ‘There’ll be no separation,’ said I.