I began to grow rich rapidly, and was soon pointed out as the
wealthiest man in the Colonies. I bought a station, and, leaving the
riotous, feverish Melbourne life, went to live on it. I enjoyed myself
there, for the wild, open-air life had great charms for me, and
there was a sense of freedom to which I had hitherto been a stranger.
But man is a gregarious animal, and I, growing weary of solitude and
communings with Mother Nature, came down on a visit to Melbourne,
where, with companions as gay as myself, I spent my money freely, and,
as the phrase goes, saw life. After confessing that I loved the pure
life of the country, it sounds strange to say I enjoyed the wild life
of the town, but I did. I was neither a Joseph nor a St. Anthony, and I
was delighted with Bohemia, with its good fellowship and charming
suppers, which took place in the small hours of the morning, when wit
and humour reigned supreme. It was at one of these suppers that I first
met Rosanna Moore, the woman who was destined to curse my existence.
She was a burlesque actress, and all the young fellows in those days
were madly in love with her. She was not exactly what was called
beautiful, but there was a brilliancy and fascination about her which
few could resist. On first seeing her I did not admire her much, but
laughed at my companions as they raved about her. On becoming
personally acquainted with her, however, I found that her powers of
fascination had not been over-rated, and I ended by falling desperately
in love with her.
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