ze was not to
be his; she was the cherished of another, to whom she had pledged her
love. What then was left for him? Why should he entertain one thought of
her? It was clear the possession of this treasure was never for him;
then why should he allow her to retain dominion in his mind?

These mental interrogations he could not answer to his own satisfaction.
He attempted to argue himself into a belief that he was mistaken in his
feelings towards her; that she was not, in fact, the beacon towards
which all his hopes were directed; but the sophistry failed to offer
consolation to his wounded spirit, and he felt that he could not banish
her from his thoughts: the task was hopeless.

Weeks passed away thus, without the occurrence of any event specially
worth chronicling. Tom Rainsfield and William Ferguson had become
inseparable friends, and were constantly together, either at the one
station or the other; while John's visits to his neighbouring friends
were short, and at remote intervals. His manner had become thoughtful
and grave, and had not failed to attract the notice of his friends, from
its contrast to his usual character. Shearing had commenced; and his
mind, from the constant diversion of his thoughts, had partially
recovered its wonted elasticity. His sister had expressed her
willingness to join her brothers; and the dray having arrived from Alma,
with the necessary materials to complete their dwelling, John had
hurried on the carpenters with their work.

It was determined by the Fergusons that the dray then on the station,
should go down to town with the first load of their wool; and that
William should follow it, and procure furniture and other necessaries
for it to return with. He was then to proceed to his father's house,
take up his sister, bring her round to the station by way of Mr.
Dawson's, and leave her at Strawberry Hill for a week or two, until the
house at Fern Vale was ready for her reception. These various
arrangements being completed; such as the despatch of the dray, the
acquaintance of Mr. Ferguson at Acacia Creek of their plans, and the
arrival of the other dray with supplies; William took his departure;
and John, after he had despatched a second load of wool, rode over to
Strawberry Hill to make a personal delivery of the salt he had borrowed
from Mr. Rainsfield.

It had been some time since John Ferguson had paid his respects at
Strawberry Hill, and his visit on this occasion was hailed wi