Slivers, as senior partner, assisted by Billy, called Villiers all
the names he could lay his tongue to, which abuse Villiers accepted
in silence, not even having the spirit to resent it. But though he
was outwardly sulky and quiet, yet within he cherished a deep hatred
against his wife for the contempt with which he was treated, and
inwardly vowed to pay her out on the first feasible opportunity.

It was now nearly six months since Vandeloup had become clerk at the
Pactolus, and he was getting tired of it, only watching his
opportunity to make a little money and go to Melbourne, where he had
not much doubt as to his success. With a certain sum of money to
work on, M. Vandeloup thought that with his talents and experience
of human nature he would soon be able to make a fortune,
particularly as he was quite unfettered by any scruples, and as long
as he made money he did not care how he gained it. With such an
adaptable nature he could hardly help doing well, but in order to
give him the start he required a little capital, so stayed on at the
Pactolus and saved every penny he earned in the hope of soon
accumulating enough to leave. Another thing that kept him there was
his love for Kitty--not a very pure or elevating love certainly,
still it was love for all that, and Vandeloup could not tear himself
away from the place where she resided.

He had called on Kitty's father, the Rev. Mark Marchurst, who lived
at the top of Black Hill, near Ballarat, and did not like him. Mr
Marchurst, a grave, quiet man, who was the pastor of a particular
sect, calling themselves very modestly 'The Elect', was hardly the
kind of individual to attract a brilliant young fellow like
Vandeloup, and the wonder was that he ever had such a charming
daughter.