Under these circumstances with no rent coming in, and no prospect of doing anything in the future, Brian had left the castle of his forefathers to the rats and the family Banshee, and came out to Australia to make his fortune. He brought letters of introduction to Mark Frettlby, and that gentleman having taken a fancy to him, assisted him by every means in his power. Under Frettlby’s advice Brian bought a station, and to his astonishment, in a few years found himself growing rich. The Fitzgeralds had always been more famous for spending than for saving, and it was an agreeable surprise to their latest representative to find the money rolling in instead of out. He began to indulge in castles in the air concerning that other castle in Ireland, with the barren acres and discontented tenants. In his mind’s eye he saw the old place rise up in all its pristine splendour out of its ruins; he saw the barren acres well cultivated, and the tenants happy and content—he was rather doubtful on this latter point, but with the rash confidence of eight and twenty, determined to do his best to perform even the impossible. Having built and furnished his castle in the air, Brian naturally thought of giving it a mistress, and this time actual appearance took the place of vision.

He fell in love with Madge Frettlby, and having decided in his own mind that she and none other was fitted to grace the visionary halls of his renovated castle, he watched his opportunity, and declared himself. She, woman-like, coquetted with him for some time, but at last, unable to withstand the impetuosity of her Irish lover, confessed in a low voice, with a pretty smile on her face, that she could not live without him. Whereupon—well—lovers being of a conservative turn of mind, and accustomed to observe the traditional forms of wooing, the result can easily be guessed. Brian hunted all over the jewellers’ shops in Melbourne with lover-like assiduity, and having obtained a ring wherein were set these turquoise stones as blue as his own eyes, he placed it on her slender finger, and at last felt that his engagement was an accomplished fact. This being satisfactorily arranged, he next proceeded to interview the father, and had just screwed his courage up to the awful ordeal, when something occurred which postponed the interview indefinitely.

Mrs Frettlby was out driving, when the horses took fright and bolted. The coachman and groom both escaped unhurt, but Mrs Frettlby was thrown out and killed instantaneously. This was the first really great trouble which had fallen on Mark Frettlby, and he seemed to be stunned by it. Shutting himself up in his room he refused to see anyone, even his daughter, and appeared at the funeral with a white and haggard face, which shocked everyone. When everything was over, and the body of the late Mrs Frettlby was consigned to the earth, with all the pomp and ceremony which money could give, the bereaved husband drove home, and resumed his old life. But he was never the same again. His face which had always been so genial and bright, became stern and sad—he seldom smiled, and when he did, it was a faint wintry smile which seemed mechanical. His whole heart seemed centred in his daughter, she became the sole mistress of the St Kilda mansion, and her father idolised her. She seemed to be the one thing left to him which gave him an interest in life, and had it not been for her bright presence constantly near him, Mark Frettlby would have wished himself lying beside his dead wife in the quiet grave yard, wherein there is no trouble or care.

After a time had elapsed, Brian again resolved to ask Mr Frettlby for the hand of his daughter, when for the second time fate interposed. This time it was a rival suitor who made his appearance, and Brian’s hot Irish temper rose when he saw another Richmond in the field. The gentleman in question was a Mr Oliver Whyte, who had come out from England a few months previously, and brought a letter of introduction to Mr Frettlby, who received him hospitably as was his custom, and Whyte soon made himself perfectly at home in the St Kilda mansion.

Brian took a dislike to the newcomer the first time he saw him, for Mr Fitzgerald was a student of Lavater, and prided himself on his reading of character. His opinion of Whyte was anything but flattering to that gentleman, for in spite of his handsome face and suave manners, both Brian and Madge felt the same repulsion towards him, as they would have to a snake.

Mr Whyte, however, with true diplomacy, affected not to notice the cold way in which Madge received him, and began to pay marked attention to her, much to Brian’s disgust. At last he asked her to be his wife, and notwithstanding her prompt refusal, spoke to Mr Frettlby on the subject. Much to the daughter’s astonishment, that gentleman consented to Whyte’s paying his addresses to Madge, and told her that he wished her to consider the young man’s proposal favourably. In spite of all Madge could say, he refused to alter his decision, and Whyte feeling himself safe, began to treat Brian with an insolence which was highly galling to Fitzgerald’s proud nature. He called on Whyte at his lodgings, and after a violent quarrel with him had left the house, vowing to kill Whyte, should he marry Madge Frettlby.

Fitzgerald went along to Mr Frettlby that same night, and had an interview with him. He confessed that he loved Madge, and that his love was returned, so when Madge added her entreaties to Brian’s, Mr Frettlby found himself unable to withstand the combined forces and gave his consent to their engagement. Whyte was absent in the country for the next few days after his stormy interview with Brian, and it was only on his return that he learnt that Madge was engaged to his rival. He saw Mr Frettlby on the subject, and having learnt from his own lips that such was the case, he left the house at once, and swore that he would never enter it again. He little knew how prophetic his words were, for on that same night he met his death in the hansom cab.