Mrs. Bruce’s letter gave an explanation which, though not fully comprehensive, cleared up a part of the mystery, as far as Imogen was concerned. It ran as follows:—
“Dear Mr. Blount,—I am afraid you must have thought us a very ill-mannered set of people, as it seems by your letter of — that you have not received any answer to your letters written the night before you left Bunjil for Melbourne. Yet, it was scarcely our fault. That poor lad who was drowned in the flood, which rose on the very day you left, carried answers from me and Imogen; these, I think, you would have considered friendly, and even in a sense apologetic for my husband’s attitude in condemning you unheard. We both scolded him soundly for deciding your case so hastily, in disregard of the laws of evidence. He particularly, who is looked upon as the best magistrate on the Marondah bench. We got him to hear reason at last, and to write expressing regret that he had made no allowance for your ignorance of our bush population, and their ways with stock. This letter was in the bags of the mail coach to Waroonga, and it also was lost when two horses were drowned at Garlung: the bridge being six feet under water. None of the passengers were injured, but the coach was swept down the stream with the mail bags, which have not been recovered. It certainly was a most unlucky occurrence, for all concerned.
“When your letter from Melbourne arrived, poor Imogen was laid up with a bad attack of influenza, from the effects of which she was confined to bed for several weeks, her lungs having been attacked and pneumonia supervening; so that what with nursing her, and Mr. Bruce having left on a three months’ trip to Queensland, all correspondence was suspended for a while. She was very nearly dying, and in fact was given up by two out of three of the doctors who attended her!
“Her good constitution pulled her through, and she has regained her former health, though not her spirits, poor girl!
“Then, after she was up, all these accounts of your wonderful success in Tasmania, and large fortune derived from the Tasmanian Silver Mine (I can’t recollect its name) were circulated in the district. On account of this she did not write, as I wanted her to do, fearing (very foolishly, as I told her) lest you might think her influenced by your altered fortunes. She is not that sort of girl, I can safely assert. The man who touched her heart would remain there installed, for richer, for poorer, till death’s parting hour.
“Whether you have said more to her than she has told me—she is very reserved about herself—I cannot say. I have written fully, perhaps too much so, as to which I trust to your honour, but my sole intention has been to clear up all doubts on your part, as to the feeling which actuates us as a family, about the past misunderstanding. I enclose a scrap which she gave me reluctantly.
“Yours sincerely,
“Hildegarde Bruce.”
Mr. Blount picked up the half sheet of notepaper, which having kissed reverently, and indeed twice repeated the action, he read as follows. Very faint and irregular were the characters:—
“What a chapter of accidents since you left! Poor Johnny Doyle drowned! my letter and Hilda’s lost. Your reply also never came.