ity seemed
cruel, but he had an object in view.

"He was charged with the death of my mother," she answered, her voice
stifled with tears.

"And your name before you were married was--"

"Mary Ogleton."

"It is the same," muttered Smith; but instead of revealing the good news
to her, he waited to hear the balance of her history since leaving
Melbourne. A few soothing words, and she continued,--

"Ten months since we had letters from my father, strongly urging us to
come to him, as he thought my husband would make a better living here
than in England. We were the more inclined to follow his advice, as the
letters contained drafts for money to help us pay our passage, which we
otherwise should not have been enabled to have done."

"Tell us about your journey since leaving the city," cried Smith, "for
we already know your history before that period."

She looked surprised, and continued,--

"Father wrote us that he was tending a flock of sheep on the road
leading to Ballarat, and that he could not leave his station even for a
day; but we were to write him if we intended coming, and he would have a
friend on the lookout for us. We answered his letter, saying that we
should embark on board of the first ship that sailed for Australia; but
when we reached port we found none to welcome us; and it was only after
diligent inquiries that we learned where he was located. Yesterday,
about noon, we thought that we must be near his home; and on inquiring
of a man that we met, he said that he knew him well, and would conduct
us to his hut. By his advice, we left the road which we had travelled
for four days, and struck across the prairie. I did not like the
appearance of our guide, and expressed my fears to my husband; but he
laughed at me, and placed implicit confidence in all that the stranger
said."

"What sort of looking man was your guide?" asked Smith.

"A dark-featured man, with long black beard, tall, and strongly framed.
Upon his forehead was a large scar, that looked as though recently
inflicted. I noticed him particularly, because I mistrusted him the
instant he offered to act as our guide."

"It was Black Darnley," cried Smith, in reply to my interrogation; "the
villain--he shall yet suffer for his treachery."

"That was the name by which his companions addressed him," cried the
woman, who overheard Smith's remark.

The convict encouraged her to continue her narrative, and motioned Fred
and myself to remain