‘How do you mean to manage that?’
‘The only one way it is possible—not to see her, nor to hear her—not to live in the same land with her. I have made up my mind to go to Australia. I don’t well know what to do when I get there; but whatever it be, and whatever it cost me to bear, I shall meet it without shrinking, for there will be no old associates to look on and remark upon my shabby clothes and broken boots.’
‘What will the passage cost you?’ asked Gorman eagerly.
‘I have ascertained that for about fifty pounds I can land myself in Melbourne, and if I have a ten-pound note after, it is as much as I mean to provide.’
‘If I can raise the money, I’ll go with you,’ said O’Shea.
‘Will you? is this serious? is it a promise?’
‘I pledge my word on it. I’ll go over to the Barn to-day and see my aunt. I thought up to this I could not bring myself to go there, but I will now. It is for the last time in my life, and I must say good-bye, whether she helps me or not.’
‘You’ll scarcely like to ask her for money,’ said Dick.
‘Scarcely—at all events, I’ll see her, and I’ll tell her that I’m going away, with no other thought in my mind than of all the love and affection she had for me, worse luck mine that I have not got them still.’
‘Shall I walk over with—? would you rather be alone?’