her life.

The boundary between Yanyilla and Telowie was among those ranges, and
Paul Griffith was the overseer at Telowie. I met him once or twice at
musters at our place, and then we met again once or twice by accident in
the gullies, where he was looking for stray cattle and I was gathering
ferns. It was only once or twice it was by accident, afterwards it was
by design. I can't tell you now exactly how we made the appointments
without putting it into so many words; but you are a girl, I dare say
you will understand thoroughly. Ah! he was so good-looking, my Paul, so
tall and fair and strong, and he had such kind blue eyes. Ah dear, ah
dear, how different my life might have been!

Well it went on and on all through the months of August and September,
and each time we parted the parting grew harder, and each time we met it
was--I can't tell you--just heaven to me, I think. Then one day--shall
I ever forget it?--he told me that he loved me, but he told me too how
poor he was, far too poor to ask my father for me; for though we were
very poor ourselves, my mother had a way of always saying that never
should her daughter be as badly off as she had been, so he knew and I
knew it was hopeless to think of our being engaged. He said he ought
not to see me again, and he would go away; but I cried then, I could not
help it, the world seemed such a dreary place without him. Then--it was
my fault, I suppose it generally is the woman's fault--he took me in his
arms and called me his little girl, and kissed me again and again. He
ought not to have kissed me if we were to part, he ought not. You know
the old couplet:

"Take hands and part with laughter,
Touch lips and part with tears."

And so it was with us, but it was not his fault I loved him, I loved him
with all my heart, and I wanted to be kissed, and those kisses have cost
me--no matter what they have cost me--I know now they were worth it.

But we could not make up our minds to part I was young and so was he,
and first I made him tell me he loved me better than anything on earth,
and then I laughed and said if it was only his poverty that stood
between us, I would wait for him all my life. I wondered afterwards at
my boldness--it did seem terribly bold, but there was nothing else to
be done--it seemed the only thing, I believe it was the only thing, as
I should have found it so utterly impossible to take my mother into
my confidence, and so you see, my dear,