“So you enjoyed your trip?”

“It was wonderful.”

“You liked sleeping rough?”

“Well, for a few night it was interesting.”

“I like my comforts. I am a sensual man. I’m like a cat. I like to sleep in a. warm bed, take a oath frequently, change my linen every day. It’s hardly possible to do these things in camp. But you liked it. “

“Perhaps I prefer my comforts too, but it was interesting to see the bush and to get some idea of how people have lived out there.”

“I imagine you are something of a pioneer, Nora. So you found your trip perfect in every way.”

“Well …” A vision of Jagger rose before me. I don’t know why it was that I had such fear of that man. Perhaps it was due to what had happened to Mary and the look in her eyes when she said she had been forced. Adelaide might not believe Mary, but I did.

“Oh … a fly in the ointment?”

How insistent he was! I could hide nothing from him.

“Adelaide and Stirling are good at everything,” I said quickly.

“They taught me how to make fires and dampers and so on … and how to live in the bush.”

“Jagger was with you, wasn’t he?”

I felt the slow flush creep into my cheeks.

“Oh yes, he was there.”

“He’s the best manager we’ve had,” he said.

“It’s not easy to get them. Most men would rather go after gold. So it’s not easy to keep them, and once they’ve gone they don’t come back. I see to that. Yes, Jagger is a good man with the property.”

Then the game started. I was quickly beaten on that occasion. I never had a chance to get into the attack.

“You’re not playing well tonight, Nora,” he said.

“Your thoughts are far away. In the bush perhaps.”

In a few weeks’ time Adelaide and I between us had made the green dress; we had also made up the more serviceable materials. Autumn was with us and we were preparing for winter. Logs were being brought into the wood house and Adelaide was stocking up with provisions. We were sometimes cut off by floods, she explained; and there might even be snow. Her father did not like. to be short of anything so it was her task to make sure that the house was well provided for. She had made jars of passioa fruit jelly, peach jam and orange marmalade.

After the heat of the summer I found the days delightful for riding and when Adelaide or Stirling could not accompany me I went alone. I never forgot Adelaide’s warning about being lost in the bush—one of the worst fates which could befall anyone—so I was always careful to watch for landmarks. I had my set rides and rarely diverged from them. Only by promising that I would either ride to Kerry’s Creek, Martha’s Mound or Dog Hill could I be given permission to go, and I believe they were always rather uneasy when t was alone while at the same time they did not wish to restrict me.

Characteristically they had agreed that I should not be coddled; and I was now a fair horsewoman and could be trusted to manage a horse.

On this morning I decided to ride out to Kerry’s Creek-my favourite spot. Here the creek ran between a grove of ghost gums and when the wattle was in bloom it was one of the loveliest spots in the neighbourhood. I liked to tether my horse to one of the gums and sit watching the water. A man named Kerry had come there twenty years before and found a little gold along the creek; he had spent ten years trying to find more and had gone away disappointed. Hence its name.

But now it was free of the seekers after gold for Kerry had proved it to be barren of that much coveted metal. Perhaps that was why it appealed to me.

I sat there on this lovely late April morning looking into the water and thinking of everything that had happened over the last months and how happy I was to have escaped from Danesworth House. Over there now the buds would be appearing on the trees and bushes; the aubrietia and arab is would be in flower; and Mary would be thinking that the cold nights were over and that for a brief spell before the heat of the summer she would be comfortable in her attic bedroom. Poor Miss Graeme would be reminded that spring was here again and another year had passed and she was a year nearer the time when Miss Emily would have no further use for her services.

How sad! Poor Miss Graeme! Poor Mademoiselle, getting less and less able to control her class. And here was I-escaped, as free as those lovely galahs flying overhead. Then I thought of Lynx’s coming up from the hold of the convicts’ ship and envying the birds.

Dear Stirling! Dear Lynx! I loved them both, and, in a lesser way, Adelaide. In a short while they had become my family and made up in some measure for the loss of my beloved father. I could be happy again. I was happy.

I heard a movement somewhere not far distant. How sound carries in the bush! Now I distinctly heard the galloping of horses’ hoofs. I stood up and shaded my eyes. I could see no one; so I sat down again and returned to my pleasant ruminating.

Yes, I was happy here. I believed that I was going to marry Stirling.

I was young yet, being only eighteen. Perhaps on my nineteenth birthday he would ask me. I pictured us in the library receiving Lynx’s congratulations. He would draw me into his arms and kiss me.

“Truly my daughter now,” he would say; and I would feel that happy glow within me. I, who had once been abandoned by my mother and had lost my father, would now be joyfully claimed by the Lynx as his daughter. These were dreams—but one has to be happy to dream pleasant-dreams.

There were footsteps behind me.

“Good day. Miss Nora.”

I felt suddenly cold with dread for it was Jacob Jagger who stood behind me. He was almost upon me as I sprang to my feet and faced him.

I was immediately aware of the silence all about me—the loneliness of the bush. In a flash I thought of the other occasion when he had stood close to me—but then Stirling and Adelaide were not far off.

“You!” I heard myself stutter.

“You don’t look very pleased to see me. And to think I’ve come here specially to see you!”

“How did you know—’ ” I make it my business to know what you’re about. Miss Nora. I saw you come this way and I said to myself, “Oh, it’s Kerry’s Creek this morning.”

“But why should you follow me?”

“You’ll know in good time. Don’t let’s rush this.”

“I don’t like your manner, Mr. Jagger.”

“I haven’t liked yours for a long time.”

“Then there can be no point in our continuing this conversation.” I turned away, but he had caught my arm and a feeling of terror came to me because I was immediately aware of his strength.

“I have to disagree again. Miss Nora.” He brought his fat, leering face close to mine.

“And this time,” he went on, “I call the tune.”

“You have forgotten that I may report this when I return.”

“You are not going to return just yet.”

“I fail to understand.”

“You are not as calm as you pretend to be, and I think you do understand a great deal.”

“You are being very offensive, Mr. Jagger. I don’t like you. f never have. Now please stand aside. I am ready to go back. Goodbye.”

He laughed most unpleasantly. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was terrified. A picture of Mary flashed into my mind. Had it happened so with her?

“You are not going yet. Miss Nora. I’ve something to say to you. I haven’t got a wife. I wouldn’t mind having one … if she were you.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“You call an honourable proposal of marriage nonsense?”

“Yes, when it comes from you. So now stand aside. If you attempt to detain me any longer you will regret it.”

He was still laughing at me; there was a tinge of purple in his face now; his mouth was ugly.

“So you manage affairs now at Whiteladies, do you? By God, Miss Nora, it’s time someone taught you a lesson.”

“I learn my own lessons, thank you.”

“Well, this morning you’re going to learn another. I’ve set my heart on you and nothing on earth is going to stop me having my way.”

I wrenched myself away from him and started to run to the tree where my horse was tethered. I hadn’t a chance. He was beside me; then he stood in front of me barring my way.

“Will you leave me, Mr. Jagger?” I panted.

“No, Miss Nora, I will not.”

“Then …”

He waited, mocking, his face working with a terrifying passion which I recognized as lust. This was what I had feared since I had first met him. He was a man who could not restrain his desires; he had no doubt found it easy to impose his will on some of the poor serving girls; and Lynx had made it easy for him. But he should realize that I was not as one of those, and that if he dared touch me he would have to answer to Lynx . and Stirling.

I tried to push past him but he caught me. His thick horrible lips were on my face. I caught at his hair and pulled it; but I was no match for him. I fought desperately; I kicked him and he gave a yell of pain, and for a moment I was free, running wildly towards my horse, but he was upon me.

I heard two kookaburras laughing as though at my plight. My breath was coming in great sobs; he was angry, hating me, I sensed, but his hatred did not lessen his desire, rather did it increase it.

He muttered that I was a she-devil. I wanted to shout back at him, to tell him I loathed him, that he would have to kill me before I gave in—but I needed my breath for the fight.

I was no weakling but he was a strong man. I heard myself praying: “Oh God, help me. Oh, Lynx … Lynx …”