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. ............