He had come thus far in his uncomfortable thoughts when somebody struck him familiarly on the shoulder, with an exclamation of surprise. ‘You here!’ said the new-comer. ‘You in London when there is nobody in it, Ben Renton! You are the last fellow I expected to see.’
‘What, Hillyard!’ said Ben, though his cordiality was languid in comparison. ‘Back so soon? Have you made your fortune already?’ And as he spoke it occurred to him that going to Australia must be the thing to do.
‘Not much of that,’ said his friend, who was very brown and very hairy, and in clothes that would not bear examination. ‘That is easier said than done. I have spent all I had, which comes to about the same thing; and now I’ve come back to try my luck at home,--my ill-luck, I should say.’
‘Then it is no good going to Australia,’ was the thought that passed, rapid as the light, through Ben’s mind. ‘But I thought all sorts of people made fortunes at the diggings, or in the bush, or whatever you call it,’ was what he said.
‘Yes, that’s how one deceives one’s self,’ said the adventurer. ‘One throws everything together in a lump, and one thinks it’s all right; whereas it’s all wrong, you know. If I had been brought up to be a shepherd, I might have got on in the bush; and if I had been brought up a bricklayer’s labourer, I might have succeeded at the diggings; but I was not, you see. And even in these elevated branches of industry the requirements are quite different. Let us have some dinner, Renton. It’s great luck to find any one to hob-and-nob with, especially such a fellow as you.’
‘Dinner!’ said Ben amazed, looking at his watch. ‘Why, it’s only three o’clock.’
Upon which Mr. Hillyard burst into a great laugh. ‘I forgot I was back in civilisation,’ he said; ‘but I must have something to eat, whatever you call it. Yes, here I am, no better than when I went away. I believe it’s all luck, after all. Some fellows get on like a house on fire. Some are thankful for bread and cheese all their lives. Some, if they work themselves sick, don’t get that. What’s the good of making one’s self miserable?--it’s all fate.’
‘I suppose one must live, however, in spite of fate,’ said Ben, not caring much what were the first words that came to his lips, nor with any positive meaning in what he said.