by the more solid comforts and
greater conveniences offered her. For the new house was of brick, the
first brick house to be built on Ballarat (and oh the joy! said
Richard, of walls so thick that you could not hear through them), had
an extra-wide verandah which might be curtained in for parties and
dances, and a side-entrance for patients, such as Mary had often sighed
for.

As a result of the new grandeur, more and more flocked to his door. The
present promised to be a record year even in the annals of the Golden
City. The completion of the railway-line to Melbourne was the
outstanding event. Virtually halving the distance to the metropolis in
count of time, it brought a host of fresh people capitalists,
speculators, politicians--about the town, and money grew perceptibly
easier. Letters came more quickly, too; Melbourne newspapers could be
handled almost moist from the press. One no longer had the sense of
lying shut off from the world, behind the wall of a tedious coach
journey. And the merry Ballaratians, who had never feared or shrunk
from the discomforts of this journey, now travelled constantly up and
down: attending the Melbourne race-meetings; the Government House balls
and lawn-parties; bringing back the gossip of Melbourne, together with
its fashions in dress, music and social life.

Mary, in particular, profited by the change; for in one of those
"general posts" so frequently played by the colonial cabinet, John
Turnham had come out Minister of Railways; and she could have a "free
pass" for the asking. John paid numerous visits to his constituency;
but he was now such an important personage that his relatives hardly
saw him. As likely as not he was the guest of the Henry Ococks in their
new mansion, or of the mayor of the borough. In the past two years
Mahony had only twice exchanged a word with his brother-in-law.

And then they met again.

In Melbourne, at six o'clock one January morning, the Honourable John,
about to enter a saloon-compartment of the Ballarat train, paused, with
one foot on the step, and disregarding the polite remarks of the
station-master at his heels, screwed up his prominent black eyes
against the sun. At the farther end of the train, a tall, thin,
fair-whiskered man was peering disconsolately along a row of crowded
carriages. "God bless me! isn't that ... Why, so it is!" And leaving
the official standing, John walked smartly down the platform.

"My dear Mahony!--this is indee