The wattle was in bloom and the haunting fragrance filled the air as its feather flowers swayed a little in the light breeze. Tree ferns were dwarfed by the giant eucalypts and the sun touched the smoke trees with its golden light. A flock of galahs had settled on a mound and they rose in a grey and pink cloud as the coach approached.

Rosellas gave their whistling call as we passed; and the beauty of the scene moved me so deeply that I felt elated by it. I could not feel apprehensive of what lay before me; I could only enjoy the beautiful morning.

It was the proud boast of the Cobb Coaching Company that horses were changed every ten miles, which ensured the earliest possible arrival.

But the roads were rough and clouds of dust enveloped us. I thought it was an adventurous drive but no one else seemed to share my opinion and it was taken for granted that there would be mishaps. Over hills and dales we went; over creeks with the water splashing the sides of the coach, over rocky and sandy surfaces, over deep potholes which more than once nearly overturned the coach. All the time our driver talked to the horses; he seemed to love them dearly for he used the most affectionate terms when addressing them, urging them to “Pull on faster, Bess me darling!” and “Steady, Buttercup, there’s a lady!” He was cheerful and courageous and laughed heartily when, having rocked over a hole in the narrow path with a sizeable drop the other side, we found ourselves still going.

Stirling was watching me intently as though almost hoping for some sign of dismay which I was determined not to show; and I gave no indication that travelling over the unmade roads of Australia seemed to me very different from sitting in a first-class carriage compartment going from Canterbury to London.

There was an occasion when one of the horses reared and the coach turned into the scrub. Then we had to get out and all the men worked together to get the coach back on to the road. But I could see that this was accepted as a normal occurrence.

We were delayed by this and spent the night at an inn which was very primitive. Adelaide and I shared a room with another traveller and there was no intimate conversation that night.

In the morning there was some difficulty about the harness and we were late starting. However, our spirits rose as we came out into the beautiful country and once more I smelt the wattle and watched the flight of brilliantly plum aged birds.

We were coming nearer and nearer to what I thought of as Lynx Territory and it was here that I had my first glimpse of what was called a tent town. To me there was something horribly depressing about it. The beautiful trees had been cut down and in their place was a collection of tents made of canvas and calico. I saw the smouldering fires on which the inhabitants boiled their billy cans and cooked their dampers. There were unkempt men and women, tanned to a dirty brown by sun and weather. I saw women, their hair tangled, helping with the panning or cradling, and turning the handles to bring up the buckets full of earth which might contain the precious gold; along the road were open-fronted shacks displaying flour, meat and the implements which would be needed by those concerned in the search for gold.

“Now you’re seeing a typical canvas town,” commented Stirling.

“There are many hereabouts. Lynx supplies the shops with their goods. It’s another trade of his.”

“So we are coming into the Lynx Empire.”

That amused Stirling. He liked to think of it as such.

The diggers’ children had run out to watch the coach as we galloped past. Some tried to run after it. I watched them as they fell behind and my heart was filled with pity for the children of the obsessed.

I was relieved when they were out of sight and I could feast my eyes on the dignified trees and watch for sleepy koalas nibbling the leaves which were the only ones they cared for, and now and then cry out with pleasure as a crimson-breasted rosella fluttered overhead.

It was dusk when we arrived.

The driver had gone a mile or so out of his way to drop us at the house. After all, we belonged to the Lynx household, which meant we must have special treatment. And as we stood there in the road before the house the grey towers of which made it look like a miniature mansion, I had the strange feeling that I had been there before. It was ridiculous. How could I have been? And yet the feeling persisted.

Two servants came running out. We had been long expected. One of them was dark-skinned; the other was named Jim.

“Take in all the baggage,” commanded Stirling.

“We’ll sort it out later. This is Miss Nora who has come to live with us.”

“Here we are,” said Stirling.

“Home.”

I walked with them to gates which were of wrought iron. Then I saw the name on them in white letters. It was “Whiteladies’.

Three

Whiteladies! The same name as that other house. How very strange! And stranger still that Stirling had not mentioned this. I turned to him and said: “But that was the name of the house near Canterbury.”

“Oh?” He pretended to look puzzled but I did not believe that he had forgotten.

“You remember,” I prompted.

“We climbed trees to look over the wall.

Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. “

“That place,” he said.

“Oh, yes.”

“But it’s the same name’

” Well, I daresay there have been other houses called by S that name. “

“That one was so called because of the nuns. There were no nuns here.”

“I expect my father just liked the name.”

I thought it was rather mysterious.

“You might have mentioned the coincidence,” I said.

“Oh come, we’re home. Don’t waste time on unimportant details.” Adelaide joined us.

“This way, Nora.” We went under an arch and through a stone-flagged passage I into a cobbled courtyard. There was a door in a wall and ;! over this hung a lantern. The place in the dim light of evening ;’ could have been built centuries ago. I knew it hadn’t been, but whoever had built it had tried to make it seem so.

Adelaide pushed open the door and we went through a lobby into a large rectangular hall in which a refectory table stood. There were some straight-backed carved chairs which were either antiques or very good imitation.

“It’s like one of the old mansions at home,” I said.

Adelaide looked pleased.

“My father likes everything to look as English as possible,” she explained.

“We grow English flowers in the garden whenever possible. Do you like gardening, Nora? If so, you can help me. I have my own little flower garden and I grow all my father’s favourites there-or try to.”

I said I hadn’t done much gardening so I wasn’t sure whether I should be a good gardener.

“You can try and see,” said Adelaide cheerfully.

There was a staircase leading from the hall and we mounted this and were in a gallery. There were several rooms leading from this and a corridor at each end. Adelaide led the way down one of these and we mounted another staircase at the top of which was a landing.

She opened the door and said: “This is your room. I’m sure you’d like to wash. Your baggage will arrive soon. Dinner will be served in half an hour.”

She left me and I found a can of hot water so I Washed my hands and face. I was combing my hair when there was a knock at the door and Adelaide looked in. She appeared to be somewhat harassed.

“My father is asking to see you Now?”

Yes. He’s in the library and he doesn’t like waiting. ” I looked in the mirror. My eyes were brilliant. I was about to meet the man of whom I had heard so much. Already there was a defiant tilt to my head.

I had made myself dislike him. If my father had never met him, I told myself illogically, he would be alive today.

My heart was beating faster. Suppose he disliked me? Suppose he decided to send me back? I felt afraid. I didn’t want to go back. I had grown fond of Stirling. I could grow fond of Adelaide. They had made me feel already that I belonged; and it is better to belong to anyone than to no one at all. Yet a deep resentment burned in me towards that man who had governed their lives and was now preparing to govern mine.

“He will be getting impatient,” Adelaide warned me. Let him! I thought defiantly. I would not allow him to dominate me. I would rather be sent back to England. It was only because Adelaide was anxious that I would hurry, so I put down my comb and followed her.

As soon as I set eyes on him I knew they were right. He was different from other men. There had never been anyone quite like him. He stood by the fireplace in which a few logs burned, his back to it, his hands in the pockets of buckskin breeches. He wore highly polished riding boots, I noticed, and wondered why I should think of his clothes at such a time when it was his personality which dominated everything in the room. His entire being expressed Power. He was very tall—six feet four at least—his fair hair was very faintly touched with white at the temples and he had a golden Vandyke beard. I could not see his lips because they were hidden by his moustache but I guessed they were thin and could be cruel. His nose was aquiline and arrogant; but of course the most startling feature was those eyes. They were like those of a jungle animal—predatory, alert, proud, cruel, implying that he would have little mercy on any who offended him; yet there was laughter in them as though they mocked those who could not match up to him. They were a dazzling blue, and they were on me now though he did not greet me. He said over my head: “So this is the girl.”