That afternoon, whilst I was rubbing the shining length of cuddy-table, the doctor came from his cabin. He looked at me a moment or two and then approached. There was a sort of kindness in his manner; he even put on a grave, condescending smile when he addressed me. It was seldom that Doctor Russell-Ellice smiled. ‘I am glad to believe,’ said he, ‘that I was mistaken in you. One of the apprentices, who, I understand, is very respectably connected, has, I hear, some knowledge of you. But, young man, you should have chosen any vessel sooner than a convict ship to hide yourself in.’ I cast my eyes down. ‘I observe that you take a great interest in all conversation that relates to convicts. I am willing to believe you honest. You will therefore give me, truthfully, your reason for the interest you take in the prisoners?’ ‘It is curiosity more than interest, sir. I have often read and heard about convict ships. I cannot help feeling curious and listening and looking about me.’ He stared at me searchingly and seemed satisfied. But I noticed with some alarm that he observed my face with unusual attention, taking the lineaments, so to speak, one by one. He then glanced down me--afterwards let his eyes rest upon my hands, and all this in silence which might have filled an interval of nearly a minute. ‘What’s your age?’ he asked. This was forcing my hand; but then I was a woman, and no woman is expected to tell the truth when she is asked her age. ‘I am seventeen, sir.’ ‘You do not seem to have been ill-used,’ said he, again gravely smiling. ‘A plumper, healthier young fellow I never met. What made you run away?’ ‘I wished to go to Hobart Town.’ ‘Would not your friends have equipped and sent you out respectably had you made known your wishes?’ ‘My stepfather is no friend of mine, sir,’ I answered. He asked me what I meant to do when I arrived in Tasmania, and after putting many questions, most of which I answered, he bade me tell him what my religion was, in what churches I worshipped, and then began to lecture me; indeed, to sermonise me as though I had been a convict under him. I listened with a hung head and composed face, but I could not draw my breath freely till he was gone, for all the time he addressed me his dark, scrutinising eyes seemed to search into my very conscience. And then again I feared his perception as a medical man.