The night before Melbourne she gave him her father's signet ring--a
heavy gold thing that Andrew had given her just before he died, telling
her it must never leave her possession. He seemed very pleased with it,
and told her laughingly that if they could not afford to buy a ring she
would be married with that as a temporary measure.
CHAPTER XII
It was a wet, miserable day when they drew alongside at Port Philip.
Louis took the communal eight shillings, Marcella kept sixpence for
luck. He went ashore before most of the passengers; she waited on board
for her uncle.
When he came he was not at all what she had expected him to be. To begin
with, he was very chilly--a queer, nervous man who told her he had not
been in Melbourne for ten years and found great changes. He seemed to
live so much alone that he was frightened to talk to anyone. His hands
were hard with labour, but he told her casually that he had a sheep run
bigger than Yorkshire and a hundred thousand sheep. His wife had been
dead for five years: his house was run by his three daughters.
"We live seventy miles from a station, and fifty miles from the nearest
neighbours," he said, looking at her doubtfully. "You don't think you'll
be lonely? It's a hard life--I had no time to tell your aunt the many
disadvantages, for she said you'd started when she cabled.
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