"Well, as he was drowned, he can't have anything to do with Blake of Baròlin," said Trant, with a laugh.
CHAPTER V.
A GAUNTLET TO FATE.
Mr. Trant went away the next morning. Elsie did not go into the parlor to bid him good-bye, but remained in the verandah where she was sewing, and listened to his parting words to Lady Horace, who invited him to repeat his visit. "Ina has no tact," murmured Elsie to herself. "She might have seen that I didn't like him."
"Where's your sister?" asked Mr. Trant, and Ina's want of tact again displayed itself when she promptly replied, "Oh! Elsie is in the verandah."
Mr. Trant came out. "I have come to say good-bye and to tell you that I shall be over at Tunimba when you are there."
"I don't know that I am going to be there," said Elsie perversely.
Mr. Trant's face fell. "If you are not there, I shall come away the next day. Do you live up here, Miss Valliant?" he asked, after having waited in vain for Elsie to reply.
"No," she said. "I am only staying with my sister, and I am going back to Leichardt's Town almost immediately."
"Lord Horace wants me to come and sing. It isn't much of a ride over from Baròlin—only about fifteen miles."
"Oh!" said Elsie.
"Miss Valliant, why don't you like me?"
"Really, Mr. Trant, you ask rather embarrassing questions."
"But you don't. I see it in your face. You liked me a little after I sang last night. I knew I was having some
