“Your mind is wandering, I fear,” and the icy contempt with which she spoke brought his anger to white heat. “I shall stay here, no longer, Mr Aulain,” and she stepped over to the tree, and took up her gun. Aulain was beside her in an instant.
“Do you think I do not know?” he said thickly, and the gleam of passion in his eyes struck terror to her heart, “It was he who made you leave Fraser's Gully to come here, so as to be near him. At first I thought that it was that Scotch hound of a parson—but now I know better.”
Kate flushed deeply, then she whitened with anger. “Oh, I wish I were a man! I could strike you as it is! Ah, you should never have left the Black Police. I shall not fail to let the man who befriended you know how you have vilified him.”
“You need not. I will tell him myself what I have told you. By ——— he shall suffer for robbing me of you!” and it needed all Kate's courage to look into his furious eyes.
“Good-night, Mr Aulain,” she said, trying to speak calmly; “I do not wish to—I hope I never may—see you again.”
“No doubt,” was the sneering response. “Mr Thomas Gerrard, the squatter, is in a very different position from Randolph Aulain, the digger, with a paltry three or four thousand pounds.”
Kate set her teeth, and tried hard to choke a sob.
“My father and I thought that you were a gentleman, Mr Aulain. I see now how very much we were mistaken. And as far as Mr Gerrard is concerned, he will know how to deal with you. I will ask my father to write to him to-morrow.”
“Why not expedite your proposed visit to him, and tell him personally?” said Aulain with a mocking laugh.
Kate made no answer, but walked swiftly away. Five minutes later, Aulain, without going to the house to say good-bye to Douglas Fraser, descended the rocky path to the main camp.