the next day i realised how great was the gulf which lay between us. i hated concealment. after a few very unhappy weeks there came the parting of our ways. john said it was all my fault. truly opinions differ. he told me his love was only boy's love. i don't dispute that, but still it was love, and how was i to know that it would die right away. in vain i tried to keep on as if nothing was the matter. any hope of being able to bear my burden in silence, in such a place as a boarding-house, was not to be thought of. the rumor spread. i was ill for a time, and suffered a good deal. i knew all joy in life was over for me. i was subject to all kinds of comments as to the real reason why my husband left home. when i got better i knew i would have to face life's duty again. i could not bear my[pg 96] trouble on the spot; i thought to escape from the scene where i had failed so. as my brother had supplied some of the furniture for a consideration, i got him and his wife to come into the house. i thought i would find pain more easily borne if i passed swiftly from place to place, and i advertised for a housekeeper's position. beyond that, i had no plan just then, but i had a fixed purpose to leave adelaide. bitter as had been my experience, now that my husband had left me, perhaps for ever, i nerved myself to the struggle. i resented the blight, which was on me while i was in adelaide and breathing the same air as they; i had a wish to be free. something prevented me from giving up altogether, or i might have been led into the depths, and have clouded my life for ever; i loathed the very sight of evil.

i got a reply to my advertisement. it was a request to take charge as housekeeper at the clarence hotel in king william-street. i did not have far to go. i had commonsense enough to think that the excitement of hotel life would be a possible relief for my troubles. still, i used to wend my way to the shipping company in the hope of getting a passage anywhere. i knew i could travel well by sea, and as stewardess—if such a post had been open—i would have gone without delay. the clarence hotel was a busy place then. underground there were large dining-rooms, known as "the shades," where hundreds came every day. there were very few places for that purpose in the city then. what is now the tivoli theatre, was then only "white's" rooms. the proprietor of the hotel had charge of those "shades," or dining-rooms, which were for the public. i did not have any work to do there, but had only to see that it was carefully managed. i had to deal with the tradespeople and to give out the stores. i was employed there because the landlady was ill. there was no family, except a little adopted girl. there was, however, plenty to do, and existence had to be struggled for. it did seem a rush to get all that was wanted for so many. there were both men and women cooks, and men and women waitresses, with other employes about. apart from the "shades" downstairs, we had both public and private dining-rooms upstairs. i saw to the letting of the rooms, and also attended the people who hired the apartments there. for the most part they were either musical or theatrical people.

i can well remember nellie stewart's father engaging rooms for himself and his two daughters. after all those bygone years i saw nellie stewart the other day looking so young. maggie moore was staying there, too. she was mrs. williamson then. there was plenty of delight and excitement everywhere, and no restrictions were placed on my movements. i came in contact with and was on speaking terms with many congenial people, and was removed from the miserable sufferings which had made up my life just previously. but all the amusements, to which i had a[pg 97] free "entree," could not make up for the human fellowship which was snatched from me.

my courage would sink when i saw my husband and his friend coming along from the post-office in king william-street. they would be laughing and looking so gay. then my mind would go back to the time, unspoiled by pain, which he and i had together. surely when i married john s. o. allen it never occurred to me that it would be a union with one who would in no way help me onward. he devoted himself to his relative, but this did not lessen the pain that such a factor should have come to another person's houses and sow discord. if i had found out in time i would not have been in south australia when they came. i was deprived of all now, when i wanted companionship most; and from his point of view everything i did was simply detestable. i could do nothing to please him. he would tell me so with a sneer. my future was all a blank. i learned from a conversation between my master and mistress that they would like to sell over the goodwill of the clarence hotel. there was again the inevitable. i did not mind much, because i was brought up in the midst of real privations, such as affected myself only. but i could not ignore the scandal or forget that the world might imagine that i had been very busy weaving nets, and that i had caught myself in them, as was sometimes told me. it was no easy matter to go out and in, and to hear and see so much humiliation. i remained at the clarence till my employer sold the business.

i was sorry, for it was peopled with kindly human beings, whom i knew well and could mix with, even to the maids. when i went there first, as they told me afterwards, they had made up their minds not to like me. as i was the first housekeeper to take charge over them they looked on my coming with annoyance, but, anyhow, i felt confident that i would do what was right for all, and i had, in various ways, seen to their comfort, both in regard to their meals and their bedrooms. i was grateful to those waiting men and maids when i saw how pleased they were to help me in any emergency. the lady, when well, was very fond of going out. i could not object to that, although i had no time for much outing, but i had to go. i went everywhere with her. they had a private house at norwood. a man and wife lived there as caretakers, and all the hotel washing was done there. i was always glad to go there, the garden being a consideration. we drove about, too, wherever the lady wished. i never before had such times. what with the theatre, and one thing and another no one would think that i was a discarded wife. i had tried hard not to be crushed, and faced my loss, only there was the discontent left, and, so far, all effort to forget was of no use at all.

at last the valuation of the hotel was set about and the people who came in did not require a housekeeper. my employers went[pg 98] to their house at norwood. i knew it would take all my courage to endure what was before me, with no scrap of human kindness to help me. my only desire was to find some hiding-place, where i would not hear the ceaseless "poor mrs. allen" spoken, as i heard it that day. forlorn in spirit, i went to port adelaide. a lady and gentleman whom i knew had taken the management of a new club there. i thought if i could get a place till i could find a ship that would take me away, i would be glad to do anything till then. life seemed no worse than at other times. i did not sit down and pity myself. it was others with their pity that i did not want. my early experience gave me the possibility of bearing real pressure, and i knew what it was to be homeless. i am telling my story in my own way.

i went with the people i mentioned. they were kindness itself. they were only newly married and did not understand housekeeping. i worked henceforward with but one object in view, though it was long before i realised it. at last the opportunity came to go as stewardess on a sailing vessel. i would have liked better if i could have had the chance to go on a steamboat. the ship i went in was the south australian and she was under the command of captain bruce.

i remembered who i was, and what i was, and why i was on board that ship. it was a conundrum. i was not on pleasure bent and did not know where i was going. the ship looked as if bound on an excursion, captain bruce being a favorite with those who went sea voyages. he had on board his wife and baby daughter, and a maid. the doctor was also a married man and was accompanied by his wife, a little baby, and a maid also. such a number of people whom i knew were on board. all on one side of the "saloon" was occupied by mr. and mrs. matthew goode and their family. amongst the other pleasing people on board were the rev. charles clark. he went as far as south africa. mr. r. s. smythe was a traveller, too. it was january 8 when they started and a fine morning, but when a strong wind and a rough sea caught the sails i had plenty to do.