her life of ease, of pleasures, and congenial study in exchange
for the one offered her in the colony.

"Friends of your father are now home and expect to return in September;
so, having arranged for you to accompany them, we must regard their
arrangements as time limit. It is always best to know the worst, though,
believe me, anticipation is often worse than realisation."

The sword had fallen, cutting off, as Evelyne Riley was fully convinced,
every possibility of happiness on earth so far as she was concerned.
Time seemed to fly on fairy wings; Mrs. Trevor made all necessary
preparations, and before Evelyne realised that her farewell to England
must be made, she stood on the deck of the outgoing steamer "Waimato" at
the side of a stranger, waving her hand forlornly to the woman whose
heart was sore at parting with one she had learned to look upon as her
own child.

[Sidenote: In New Zealand]

Six weeks later, Eva landed at Wellington. The voyage had not interested
her much, and she was glad to end it. She had read somewhere that it was
usual to wear old clothes on board, but for landing to choose smart and
becoming ones, and Eva had bestowed quite some thought on the subject.
Her dark serge lay at the bottom of her trunk, and for the important
occasion she decided on her most cherished frock and the new hat, which
in Richmond she had worn on high-days and holidays. Certainly she looked
very attractive. Almost sixteen, tall and very fair, Eva was a beautiful
girl, and as the eyes of Dr. Riley fell on her, he wondered in amazement
at the change that had taken place in the pale, slight child he had left
with his sister. Could this really be Evelyne? If so, how was she going
to suit in the simple surroundings to which she was going? He gazed in
dismay at the expensive clothes and fashionable style of one who soon
would need to patch and darn, to bake and cook, run the house on
practical lines, and care for children.

Somewhat nervous and much excited, Eva allowed herself to be kissed and
caressed, asking after her mother in a constrained fashion, for, try as
she would, she bore a grudge against one who was the cause of her
changed life.

A shadow overcast the doctor's face as he replied, "Your dear mother
will not welcome you at our home as we had hoped. She lies very ill in a
hospital at present, awaiting a severe operation, the success of which
may save her life--God grant it may--but the boys and Babs are wild