I was coming out of my bedroom earlier in the evening, having gone to fetch some music, when I met him striding along the passage on his way to his usual nightly interview with the overseer. We did not think it wrong to stop and indulge ourselves in a fervent hug and kiss.
“I am so glad mother has given you something out of that old iron box,” he said, touching my precious cross. “Now, you mind what your father said, Kitty, and don’t take it out of the family.”
“No fear of that,” I answered, nestling up to him. “It will stand to me in the place of my engagement ring, Tom. Only I can’t wear it always, unfortunately.”
“Wear it that day when we meet in England, Kitty, will you? Then, when I see it round your dear white throat, it will be a sign to me that you have kept true, and are ready for me.”
“I will,” I said solemnly.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE MAIL STEAMER.
Our final departure from the colony was a wretched business, and I do not feel inclined to dwell upon it. The Smiths and ourselves had never known until now how strong were the bonds of friendship that through long years had bound us together, and Tom and I bitterly realized what a tremendous probation ours was going to be. It was sad to see our pretty home, that had grown with my growth, and was a monument of I know not what ingenuity and contrivance, dismantled and stripped, and given up to strangers. It was a trial to hear, when the sale was over, that my beloved piano had been carted away to the township for the butcher’s children to strum upon; and that our drawing-room furniture, which had been made for us in England, was gone to adorn a public-house. It was a sore grief to have to part with Spring and Bronzewing, neither of my pets being allowed to accompany me home, of course.
Spring I gave to Tom to take care of, and so I was assured of his welfare, though the poor old dog whined and cried at leaving me until he almost broke my heart; but Bronzewing was too famous and too valuable to be disposed of in any such sentimental manner. He was put up to auction, and was fought for by two or three wealthy landowners in the district, one of whom purchased him for a sum that was sufficient, father said, to cover the cost of whatever finery mother and I might choose to treat ourselves to in Paris.
I parted from Tom at Booloomooloo, standing out in the public sunshine between the doorsteps and the buggy. Our four parents were gathered round us, all more or less overcome, on their own account, by the solemnity and sadness of the occasion, and in the midst of them we stood tight clasped in one another’s arms, and kissed our hearts out in the bitter sweetness of farewell. We were past caring what they or anybody else thought of it. My own father and mother preserved a grave silence towards me for hours after we had started; but if they had raged and stormed it would have been all the same. I should rather have enjoyed it than otherwise, in the defiant and despairing mood that I was then in.