Data Structures And Algorithm Analysis In C++

4th Edition Weiss Solutions Manual download

https://testbankdeal.com/product/data-structures-and-algorithm-
analysis-in-c-4th-edition-weiss-solutions-manual/

Explore and download more test bank or solution manual

at testbankdeal.com
Here are some recommended products for you. Click the link to
download, or explore more at testbankdeal.com

Data Structures And Algorithm Analysis In Java 3rd Edition

Weiss Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/data-structures-and-algorithm-
analysis-in-java-3rd-edition-weiss-solutions-manual/

Data Structures and Algorithms in C++ 2nd Edition Goodrich

Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/data-structures-and-algorithms-
in-c-2nd-edition-goodrich-solutions-manual/

Introduction to C++ Programming and Data Structures 4th

Edition Liang Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/introduction-to-c-programming-and-
data-structures-4th-edition-liang-solutions-manual/

Pharmacology for Nurses A Pathophysiologic Approach 5th

Edition Adams Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/pharmacology-for-nurses-a-
pathophysiologic-approach-5th-edition-adams-test-bank/
Business Communication Developing Leaders for a Networked
World 1st Edition Cardon Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/business-communication-developing-
leaders-for-a-networked-world-1st-edition-cardon-solutions-manual/

Financial Accounting The Impact on Decision Makers 8th

Edition Porter Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/financial-accounting-the-impact-on-
decision-makers-8th-edition-porter-solutions-manual/

Byrd and Chens Canadian Tax Principles 2018-2019 1st

Edition Byrd Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/byrd-and-chens-canadian-tax-
principles-2018-2019-1st-edition-byrd-test-bank/

Contemporary Accounting A Strategic Approach for Users 9th

Edition Hancock Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/contemporary-accounting-a-strategic-
approach-for-users-9th-edition-hancock-solutions-manual/

Microeconomics 2nd Edition Bernheim Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/microeconomics-2nd-edition-bernheim-
solutions-manual/
Molecular Biology of The Cell 5th edition Alberts Test
Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/molecular-biology-of-the-cell-5th-
edition-alberts-test-bank/
CHAPTER 6

Priority Queues (Heaps)

6.1 Yes. When an element is inserted, we compare it to the current minimum and change the minimum if the new

element is smaller. deleteMin operations are expensive in this scheme.

6.2

6.3 The result of three deleteMins, starting with both of the heaps in Exercise 6.2, is as follows:

6.4 (a) 4N

(b) O(N2)

(c) O(N4.1)

(d) O(2N)

6.5
/**
* Insert item x, allowing duplicates.
*/
 void insert( const Comparable & x )
{
if( currentSize == array.size( ) - 1 )
array.resize( array.size( ) * 2 );
// Percolate up
int hole = ++currentSize;
for( ; hole > 1 && x < array[ hole / 2 ]; hole /= 2 )
array[ hole ] = array[ hole / 2 ];
array[0] = array[ hole ] = x;
}

6.6 225. To see this, start with i = 1 and position at the root. Follow the path toward the last node, doubling i

when taking a left child, and doubling i and adding one when taking a right child.

6.7 (a) We show that H(N), which is the sum of the heights of nodes in a complete binary tree of N nodes, is

N − b(N), where b(N) is the number of ones in the binary representation of N. Observe that for N = 0 and

N = 1, the claim is true. Assume that it is true for values of k up to and including N − 1. Suppose the left and

right subtrees have L and R nodes, respectively. Since the root has height  log N  , we have

H (N ) = log N  + H (L) + H (R )
= log N  + L − b(L) + R − b(R)
= N − 1 + (  Log N  − b(L) − b(R) )

The second line follows from the inductive hypothesis, and the third follows because L + R = N − 1. Now the

last node in the tree is in either the left subtree or the right subtree. If it is in the left subtree, then the right

subtree is a perfect tree, and b(R) = log N  − 1 . Further, the binary representation of N and L are identical,

with the exception that the leading 10 in N becomes 1 in L. (For instance, if N = 37 = 100101, L = 10101.) It

is clear that the second digit of N must be zero if the last node is in the left subtree. Thus in this case,

b(L) = b(N), and

H(N) = N − b(N)

If the last node is in the right subtree, then b(L) =  log N  . The binary representation of R is identical to

N, except that the leading 1 is not present. (For instance, if N = 27 = 101011, L = 01011.) Thus

b(R) = b(N) − 1, and again

H(N) = N − b(N)
 (b) Run a single-elimination tournament among eight elements. This requires seven comparisons and

generates ordering information indicated by the binomial tree shown here.

The eighth comparison is between b and c. If c is less than b, then b is made a child of c. Otherwise, both

c and d are made children of b.

(c) A recursive strategy is used. Assume that N = 2k. A binomial tree is built for the N elements as in part (b).

The largest subtree of the root is then recursively converted into a binary heap of 2 k − 1 elements. The last

element in the heap (which is the only one on an extra level) is then inserted into the binomial queue

consisting of the remaining binomial trees, thus forming another binomial tree of 2 k − 1 elements. At that

point, the root has a subtree that is a heap of 2 k − 1 − 1 elements and another subtree that is a binomial tree of

2k−1 elements. Recursively convert that subtree into a heap; now the whole structure is a binary heap. The

running time for N = 2k satisfies T(N) = 2T(N/2) + log N. The base case is T(8) = 8.

6.8 a) Since each element in a min heap has children whose elements are greater than the value in the
element itself, the maximum element has no children and is a leaf.

c) Since the maximum element can be any leaf (the position of a node is determined entirely by the
value of its parent and children), all leaves must be examined to find the maximum value in a min
heap.

6.9 Let D1, D2, . . . ,Dk be random variables representing the depth of the smallest, second smallest, and kth

smallest elements, respectively. We are interested in calculating E(Dk). In what follows, we assume that the

heap size N is one less than a power of two (that is, the bottom level is completely filled) but sufficiently

large so that terms bounded by O(1/N) are negligible. Without loss of generality, we may assume that the kth

smallest element is in the left subheap of the root. Let pj, k be the probability that this element is the jth

smallest element in the subheap.

Lemma.
 k −1
For k > 1, E (Dk ) =  p j ,k (E (D j ) + 1) .
j =1

Proof.

An element that is at depth d in the left subheap is at depth d + 1 in the entire subheap. Since

E(Dj + 1) = E(Dj) + 1, the theorem follows.

Since by assumption, the bottom level of the heap is full, each of second, third, . . . , k − 1th smallest

elements are in the left subheap with probability of 0.5. (Technically, the probability should be half − 1/(N −

1) of being in the right subheap and half + 1/(N − 1) of being in the left, since we have already placed the kth

smallest in the right. Recall that we have assumed that terms of size O(1/N) can be ignored.) Thus

1  k − 2
p j ,k = pk − j ,k = k −2  
2  j −1 

Theorem.

E(Dk)  log k.

Proof.

The proof is by induction. The theorem clearly holds for k = 1 and k = 2. We then show that it holds for

arbitrary k > 2 on the assumption that it holds for all smaller k. Now, by the inductive hypothesis, for any

1  j  k − 1,

E (D j ) + E (Dk − j )  log j + log k − j

Since f(x) = log x is convex for x > 0,

log j + log k − j  2 log ( k 2 )

Thus

E (D j ) + E (Dk − j )  log( k 2 ) + log ( k 2 )

Furthermore, since pj, k = pk − j, k,

p j ,k E (D j ) + pk − j ,k E (Dk − j )  p j ,k log ( k 2 ) + pk − j ,k log ( k 2 )

From the lemma,

 k −1
E (Dk ) =  p j , k (E (D j ) + 1)
j =1
k −1
=1+  p j, k E(D j )
j =1

Thus

k −1
E ( Dk )  1 +  p j , k log ( k 2)
j =1
k −1
 1 + log ( k 2)  p j , k
j =1

 1 + log ( k 2)
 log k

completing the proof.

It can also be shown that asymptotically, E(Dk)  log(k − 1) − 0.273548.

6.10 (a) Perform a preorder traversal of the heap.

(b) Works for leftist and skew heaps. The running time is O(Kd) for d-heaps.

6.12 Simulations show that the linear time algorithm is the faster, not only on worst-case inputs, but also on

random data.

6.13 (a) If the heap is organized as a (min) heap, then starting at the hole at the root, find a path down to a leaf by

taking the minimum child. The requires roughly log N comparisons. To find the correct place where to move

the hole, perform a binary search on the log N elements. This takes O(log log N) comparisons.

(b) Find a path of minimum children, stopping after log N − log log N levels. At this point, it is easy to

determine if the hole should be placed above or below the stopping point. If it goes below, then continue

finding the path, but perform the binary search on only the last log log N elements on the path, for a total of

log N + log log log N comparisons. Otherwise, perform a binary search on the first log N − log log N

elements. The binary search takes at most log log N comparisons, and the path finding took only log N − log

log N, so the total in this case is log N. So the worst case is the first case.

(c) The bound can be improved to log N + log*N + O(1), where log*N is the inverse Ackerman function (see

Chapter 8). This bound can be found in reference [17].

6.14 The parent is at position (i + d − 2) d  . The children are in positions (i − 1)d + 2, . . . , id + 1.

6.15 (a) O((M + d N) logd N).

 (b) O((M + N) log N).

(c) O(M + N2).

(d) d = max(2, M/N). (See the related discussion at the end of Section 11.4.)

6.16 Starting from the second most signficant digit in i, and going toward the least significant digit, branch left for

0s, and right for 1s.

6.17 (a) Place negative infinity as a root with the two heaps as subtrees. Then do a deleteMin.

(b) Place negative infinity as a root with the larger heap as the left subheap, and the smaller heap as the right

subheap. Then do a deleteMin.

(c) SKETCH: Split the larger subheap into smaller heaps as follows: on the left-most path, remove two

subheaps of height r − 1, then one of height r, r + 1, and so one, until l − 2. Then merge the trees, going

smaller to higher, using the results of parts (a) and (b), with the extra nodes on the left path substituting for

the insertion of infinity, and subsequent deleteMin.

6.18 a. The minimum element will be the root. The maximum element will be one of the two children of the root.

b. Place the new element in the last open position (as in a regular heap). Now compare it to its parent. Now if
the new element was inserted into a max(min) row and was less (greater) than its parent. Then swap it with
its parent and now it need only be compared to other min elements and bubbled up min elements. If it is
greater (less) than its parent it need only be compared to other max elements bubbled up using the max
elements.

c) For a min deletion, remove the root . Let the last element in the heap be x . If the root has no children, then
x becomes the root. If find m the minimum child or grandchild of the root. If k Y m, then x becomes the
root. Other wise if m is the child of the root the m becomes the root and x is inserted in place of m. Finally if
m is the grandchild of the root, then m is moved to the root and if p is the parent of m, then if x > is p, then p
and x are interchanged.

d) yes. (see Atkinson et al., Min-Max Heaps and Generalized Priority Queues, Programming Techniques
and Data Structures, Vol 29, No. 10, pp. 996 - 1000, 1986.)
6.20

6.21 This theorem is true, and the proof is very much along the same lines as Exercise 4.20.

6.22 If elements are inserted in decreasing order, a leftist heap consisting of a chain of left children is formed. This

is the best because the right path length is minimized.

6.23 (a) If a decreaseKey is performed on a node that is very deep (very left), the time to percolate up would be

prohibitive. Thus the obvious solution doesn’t work. However, we can still do the operation efficiently by a

combination of remove and insert. To remove an arbitrary node x in the heap, replace x by the merge of its

left and right subheaps. This might create an imbalance for nodes on the path from x’s parent to the root that

would need to be fixed by a child swap. However, it is easy to show that at most logN nodes can be affected,

preserving the time bound.

This is discussed in Chapter 11.

6.24 Lazy deletion in leftist heaps is discussed in the paper by Cheriton and Tarjan [10]. The general idea is that if

the root is marked deleted, then a preorder traversal of the heap is formed, and the frontier of marked nodes is

removed, leaving a collection of heaps. These can be merged two at a time by placing all the heaps on a

queue, removing two, merging them, and placing the result at the end of the queue, terminating when only

one heap remains.

6.25 (a) The standard way to do this is to divide the work into passes. A new pass begins when the first element

reappears in a heap that is dequeued. The first pass takes roughly 2*1*(N/2) time units because there are N/2

merges of trees with one node each on the right path. The next pass takes 2*2*(N/4) time units because of the

roughly N/4 merges of trees with no more than two nodes on the right path. The third pass takes 2*3*(N/8)

time units, and so on. The sum converges to 4N.

(b) It generates heaps that are more leftist.

6.26

6.27

6.28 This claim is also true, and the proof is similar in spirit to Exercise 4.20 or 6.21.

6.29 Yes. All the single operation estimates in Exercise 6.25 become amortized instead of worst-case, but by the

definition of amortized analysis, the sum of these estimates is a worst-case bound for the sequence.

6.30 Clearly the claim is true for k = 1. Suppose it is true for all values i = 1, 2, . . . , k. A Bk + 1 tree is formed by

attaching a Bk tree to the root of a Bk tree. Thus by induction, it contains a B0 through Bk − 1 tree, as well as the

newly attached Bk tree, proving the claim.

6.31 Proof is by induction. Clearly the claim is true for k = 1. Assume true for all values i = 1, 2, . . . ,k. A Bk + 1

k 
tree is formed by attaching a Bk tree to the original Bk tree. The original thus had   nodes at depth d. The
d 

 k 
attached tree had   nodes at depth d−1, which are now at depth d. Adding these two terms and using a
 d − 1

well-known formula establishes the theorem.

6.32

6.33 This is established in Chapter 11.

6.34

template<typename Comparable>
struct BiQueNode
{
Comparable item;
vector<BiQueNode *> pointers;
BiQueNode<Comparable> (Comparable e) : item(e) {}
};
template <typename Comparable>
class BinomalQue
{
private:
vector<BiQueNode<Comparable>> biQue;
};

template <typename Comparable>

BiQueNode<Comparable> * combine(BiQueNode<Comparable> * p, BiQueNode<Comparable> * q)
{
if (p->item < q->item)
{
p->pointers.push_back(q);
return p;
}
else
{
q->pointers.push_back(p);
return q;
}
}

template <typename Comparable>

BiQueNode<Comparable> * insert(Comparable v)
{
 BiQueNode<Comparable> * t = new BiQueNode<Comparable> v;
BiQueNode<Comparable> * c = t;
for (int i = 0; i <= biQue.size(); i++)
{
if (c == nullptr) break;
if (i == biQue.size() -1)
biQue.push_back(nullptr);
if (biQue[i] == nullptr)
{ biQue[i] = c; break;}
c = combine(c, bq[i]);
bique[i] = null;
}
return t;
}

6.37

/*
Bin packing
*/
#include <vector>
#include <queue>
using namespace std;
const double Cap = 1.0;
class Bins
{
private:
vector<double> bins;
priority_queue<double> heapBins;
public:
Bins(int size = 0)
{bins.resize(size);
for (int i = 0; i < size; i++)
bins[i] = 0;
}
void clear() {bins.clear();}
int size(){ return bins.size();}
void insertFirstFit(double item) // a.
{
for (int i = 0; i < bins.size(); i++)
if (bins[i] + item < Cap)
{
bins[i] += item;
return;
}
bins.push_back(item);
}
int insertWorstFit(double item) // b
{
static int size = 0;
double maxRoom;
if (heapBins.empty())
heapBins.push(Cap - item);
else
{
maxRoom = heapBins.top();
if (maxRoom > item) // there is room
{
Visit https://testbankdead.com
now to explore a rich
collection of testbank,
solution manual and enjoy
exciting offers!
 heapBins.pop();
heapBins.push(maxRoom - item);
}
else
{heapBins.push(Cap - item);
size++;
}
}
return size;
}
void insertBestFit(double item) // c
{
double gap =Cap;
int gapIndex = -1;
if (bins.size() == 0)
bins.push_back(item);
else
{
for (int i = 0; i < bins.size(); i++)
if (bins[i]+item < Cap && bins[i]+item < gap)
{
gap = Cap - bins[i] - item;
gapIndex = i;
}
if (gapIndex < 0)
bins.push_back(item);
else
bins[gapIndex] += item;
}
}
};

d. yes

6.38 Don’t keep the key values in the heap, but keep only the difference between the value of the key in a node

and the value of the parent’s key.

6.39 O(N + k log N) is a better bound than O(N log k). The first bound is O(N) if k = O(N/log N). The second

bound is more than this as soon as k grows faster than a constant. For the other values (N/log N) = k = (N),

the first bound is better. When k = (N), the bounds are identical.
Other documents randomly have
different content
manners, conduct, and good breeding. But then it is to proclaim
oneself a fool to take a man at his own estimate of himself. I find
you here in the company of my niece. Favour me with an
explanation, Mr. Basil Whittingham."

"There is nothing to explain," said Basil, still with his arm round
Annette. "I have been absent some time, and happening,
fortunately, to return before Miss Bidaud left the country, have met
her here, and was exchanging a few words of farewell."

"Of course, of course. Who would venture to dispute with so

reproachless a gentleman? Who would venture to whisper that in
these last few words of farewell there was any attempt to work upon
a child's feelings, and to make the spurious metal of self-interest
shine like purest gold? On one side a young girl, as yet a mere child,
whose feelings are easily worked upon; on the other side a grown
man versed in the cunning of the world, and using it with a keen eye
to profitable use in the future. Not quite an equal match, it appears
to me, but I may be no judge. If I were to hint that this meeting
between you and my dear niece and ward has anything of a
clandestine nature in it, you would probably treat me to a display of
indignant fireworks. If I were to hint that, instead of so advising this
child that she should hold out her arms gladly to the new life into
which she is about to enter, you were instilling into her a feeling of
repugnance against it, and of mistrust against those whose duty it
will be to guide her aright and teach her--principles"--his eyes
twinkled with malignant humour as he spoke this word--"you,
English gentleman that you are, would repudiate the insinuation with
lofty scorn. But when you exchange confidences with me you are in
the presence of a man who has also seen something of the world,
and who, although it has dealt him hard buffets, retains some old-
fashioned notions of honour and manliness. I apply the test to you,
adventurer, and you become instantly exposed. Ah! here is my sister,
this sweet young child's aunt, who will relieve you of your burden."
 He took the hand of the unresisting girl and led her to her aunt,
whose arm glided round Annette's waist, holding it as in a vice.

"I will not answer you," said Basil, with an encouraging smile at
Annette, whose face instantly brightened. "Annette knows I have
spoken the truth, and that is enough."

"Yes, Basil," said Annette, boldly, "you have spoken the truth, and
I will never, never forget what you have said to me to-day."

"Take her away," said Gilbert Bidaud to his sister; "the farce is
played out. In a week it will be forgotten."

"Good-bye, Basil," said Annette "and God bless you."

"Good-bye, Annette," said Basil, "and God guard you."

"How touching, how touching!" murmured Gilbert Bidaud. "It is

surely a scene from an old comedy. Take her away."

"Just one moment, please," said Old Corrie, joining the group.
"Here is something that belongs to the little lady, that she would like
to take with her to the new world. It will remind her of the old, and
of friends she leaves in it."

It was the magpie in its wicker cage, whose tongue being

loosened by company, or perhaps by a desire to show off its
accomplishments to an appreciative audience, became volubly
communicative.

"Basil! Basil! Basil and Annette! Little lady! Little lady!"

In his heart Gilbert Bidaud was disposed to strangle the bird, but
his smile was amiability itself as he said to Annette, "Yours, my
child?"

"Yes, mine," she answered. "Mr. Corrie gave it to me."

 "But Mr. Corrie is not rich," said Gilbert Bidaud, pulling out his
purse; "you are. Shall we not pay him for it?"

"No," said Annette, before Old Corrie could speak. "I would not
care for it if he took money for it."

"Well said, little lady," said Old Corrie; "the bird is friendship's
offering, and for that will be valued and well cared for, I don't doubt.
It is your property, mind, and no one has a right to meddle with it."

"Friendship's offering!" said Gilbert Bidaud, with a long, quiet

laugh. "We came out to the bush to learn something, did we not,
sister? Why, here we find the finest of human virtues and
sentiments, the smuggest of moralities, the essence of refined
feeling. It is really refreshing. Do not be afraid, Mr. Corrie. Although I
would not take your word about that wood-splitting contract, I have
some respect for you, as a rough specimen of bush life and
manners. We part friends, I hope."

"Not a bit of it," said Old Corrie. "If ladies were not present I'd
open my mind to you."

"Thank heaven," said Gilbert Bidaud, raising his eyes with mock
devotion, "for the restraining influence of the gentler sex. You do not
diminish my esteem for you. I know rough honesty when I meet
with it."

"You shift about," interrupted Old Corrie, "like a treacherous wind.

I'm rough honesty now, am I? You're the kind of man that can turn
white into black. Let us make things equal by another sort of
bargain. I've given little lady the bird. You'll not take it from her?"

"Heavens?" cried Gilbert Bidaud, clasping his hands. "What do you

think of me?"

"That's not an answer. You'll not take it from her?"

 "I will not. Keep it, my child, and be happy."

"Do you hear, little lady? Let us be thankful for small mercies.
Shake hands, my dear. When you're a woman grown, don't forget
Old Corrie."

"I never will--I never will," sobbed Annette.

"And don't forget," said Old Corrie, laying his hand on Basil's
shoulder, "that Master Basil here is a gentleman to be honoured and
loved, a man to be proud of, a man to treasure in your heart."

"I will never forget it," said Annette; with a fond look at Basil.

"And this, I think," said Gilbert Bidaud, with genial smiles all
round, "is the end of an act. Let the curtain fall to slow music."

But it was not destined so to fall. As Annette's aunt turned to

leave with her niece, her eyes, dwelling scornfully on Basil for a
moment, caught sight of the chain attached to the locket which
Annette had put round his neck. Quick as lightning she put her hand
to the child's neck, and discovered the loss.

"He has stolen Annette's locket!" she cried, pointing to the chain.

As quick in his movements as his sister, Gilbert Bidaud stretched

forth his hand and tore the locket and chain from Basil's neck. It was
done so swiftly and suddenly that Basil was unable to prevent it; but
the hot blood rushed into his face as he said:

"Were you a younger man I would give you cause to remember

your violence. Annette, speak the truth."

"I gave it to you, Basil," said Annette, slipping from her aunt's
grasp, and putting her hand on Gilbert Bidaud's. "It is false to say he
stole it. It belonged to me, and I could do what I pleased with it. I
gave it to Basil, and he did not want to take it at first, but I made
him."

She strove to wrench it from her uncle's hand, but it was easy for
him to keep it from her.

"I will have it!" cried Annette. "I will, I will! It is Basil's, and you
have no right to it."

"A storm in a teapot," said Gilbert Bidaud, who seldom lost his
self-possession for longer than a moment, "Sister, you should
apologise to the young gentleman. Take the precious gift."

But instead of handing it to Basil he threw it over the young

man's head, and Newman Chaytor, who during the whole of this
scene had been skulking, unseen, in the rear, and had heard every
word of the conversation, caught it before it fell, and slunk off with
it.

"I shall find it, Annette," said Basil. "Good-bye, once more. May
your life be bright and happy!"

Those were the last words, and being uttered at the moment
Newman Chaytor caught the locket and was slinking off, were heard
and treasured by him.

The whole of that day Basil, assisted by Old Corrie and Chaytor,
searched for the locket, of course unsuccessfully. He was in great
distress at the loss; it seemed to be ominous of misfortune.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
 The story of the lives of Basil and Chaytor during the ensuing
three years may be briefly summarised. So far as obtaining more
than sufficient gold for the bare necessaries of life were concerned,
ill-luck pursued them. They went from goldfield to goldfield, and
followed every new rush they heard of, and were never successful in
striking a rich claim. It was all the more tantalising because they
were within a few feet of great fortune at least half-a-dozen times.
On one goldfield they marked out ground, close to a claim of
fabulous richness, every bucket of wash-dirt that was hauled from
the gutter being heavily weighted with gold. This was the
prospectors' claim, and the shaft next to it struck the gutter to the
tune of twelve ounces a day per man. The same with the second,
and Basil and Chaytor had every reason, therefore, to congratulate
themselves, especially when the men working in the claim beyond
them also struck the lead, and struck it rich. But when at length the
two gold diggers in whom we are chiefly interested came upon the
gutter, they were dismayed to find that instead of ten ounces to the
tub, it was as much as they could do to wash out ten grains. It was
the only poor claim along the whole of the gutter; on each side of
them the diggers were coining money, and they were literally
beggars. It is frequently so on the goldfields, the life on which very
much resembles a lottery, riches next door to poverty; but the hope
of turning up a lucky number seldom dies out in the heart of the
miner. He growls a bit, apostrophises his hard luck in strong
language, is despondent for a day, and the next shakes off his
despondent fit, and buckles to again with a will, going perhaps to
another new rush, jubilant and full of hope, to meet again with the
same bad fortune. The romance of the goldfield is a rich vein for
novelists, some few of whom have tapped it successfully; but the
theme is far from being worn out, and presents as tempting material
to-day as it did years ago, when gold was first discovered in
Australia.
 "It is maddening, Basil," said Chaytor, as he gazed gloomily at the
"prospect" in his tin dish--two or three specks which would not have
covered a pin's head. "Here we are upon the gutter again, and the
stuff will wash about half a pennyweight to the tub."

"It's jolly hard," said Basil, proceeding to fill his pipe with cut
cavendish, "but what can we do? Grin and bear it."

"Ah, you're philosophical, you are," growled Chaytor, "but I'm not
so easy minded. Just think of it, and bring a little spirit to bear upon
it, will you?"

"Off you go," said Basil. "I'm listening."

"Here we are on Dead Man's Flat, and here we've been these last
three weeks. Just four days and three weeks ago we struck our
claim in Mountain Maid Gully, having got two ounces and three
pennyweights for our month's hard work. That contemptible parcel
of gold brought us in barely eight pounds, the gold buyer pretending
to blow away sand before he put it in the scale, but blowing away
more than two pennyweights of the stuff, and reducing it to a little
over two ounces. We weighed it in our own gold scales before we
took it to him, and it was two ounces three pennyweights full
weight. You can't deny that."

"I've no intention of denying it. Don't be irritable. Go on, and let

off steam; it will do you good."

"I want to point out this thing particularly," fumed Chaytor, "so
that we can get to the rights of our ill luck, get to the bottom of it, I
mean, and find out the why and the wherefore. Eight pounds we
receive for our gold, when we should have received eight pounds
ten; not a sixpence less; but the world is full of thieves. Now, that
eight pounds gives us a little under twenty shillings a week a man. I
would sooner starve."

"I wouldn't--though I've had bitter blows, Chaytor."

 "Not worse than I have."

"It is the pinching of our own shoes we feel, old fellow. We're a
selfish lot of brutes. Thank you for pulling me up. I'm sorry for you,
Chaytor."

"And I'm sorry for you. Thinking our claim worthless we leave
Mountain Maid Gully, and come here to Dead Man's Flat. We are
ready to jump out of our skins with joy, for we come just in time--so
we think. Here's a new lead struck, with big nuggets in it, and we
mark out our claim exactly one hundred and twenty feet from the
prospector's ground. They get one day twenty ounces, the next day
twenty-eight, the next day forty-two--a fortune, if it lasts."

"Which it seldom does."

"It often does, and even if it lasts only six or seven weeks it
brings in a lot. 'We're in luck this time,' I say to you, and I dream of
nuggets as big as my head. The gutter, we reckon, is forty feet
down, and we reach it in three weeks. Everybody round us is making
his pile--why shouldn't we? But before we strike the lead a digger
comes up, and says, 'Hallo, mates, have you heard about the claim
you left in Mountain Maid Gully?' 'No,' say we, 'what about it?'--'Oh,'
says the digger, 'only that two new chums jumped in after you'd
gone away and found out it was the richest claim on the goldfield.
They took a thousand ounces out of it the second week they were at
work.' What do you say to that, Basil?"

"Jolly hard luck, Chaytor."

"Cursed hard luck, I say."

"Strong words won't better it."

"They're a relief. You take it philosophically, I admit; I growl over

it like a bear with a sore head. I'd like to know why there's this
difference between us."
 "I'll try and tell you presently, when you've finished about the two
claims."

"All right. I shouldn't be much of a man if the news about the

ground we ran away from didn't rile me. I was so wild I could hardly
sleep that night. But when I heard that in the next claim to the one
we're working now a nugget weighing a hundred and fifty ounces
was found I thought perhaps we'd got a richer claim than the one
we'd deserted. So I bottled up my bad temper, and went on working
with a good grace. And now we're on the gutter again, and here's
the result." He held out the tin dish, and gazed at the tiny specks of
gold with disgust. "Why it's the very worst we've struck yet."

"Not quite that. We've had as bad. What shall we do? Stick to it,
or try somewhere else?

"We daren't go away. Stick to it we must. If we left it and I heard

afterwards the same sort of story we were told about our claim on
Mountain Maid, I should do somebody a mischief. You agree with
me, then, that we remain and work the claim out?"

"I agree to anything you wish, Chaytor. I will stay or go away, just
as you decide."

Chaytor looked at him with an eye of curiosity. "Were you ever a

fellow of much strength of character, Basil?"

"I think so, once; not in any remarkable degree, but sufficient for
most purposes."

"And now?"

"And now," replied Basil, taking his pipe from his mouth, and
holding it listlessly between his fingers, "the life seems to have gone
out of me. The only tie that binds me to it is you. I owe you an
everlasting debt of gratitude, old fellow, and I wish I could do
something to repay it. But in tying yourself to me you are tied to a
log that keeps dragging you down. The ill luck that pursues us come
from me. Throw me off and fortune will smile upon you."

"And upon you?"

"No. The taste of all that's sweet and beautiful has gone out of
my mouth; I'm a soured man inside of me; you're a thousand times
better than I am. What is bitterness in you comes uppermost; it
pleases you to hide the best part of you; but you cannot hide it from
me, for I've had experience of you and know you. Now I'm the exact
reverse. Outwardly you would think I'm an easy-going, easy-natured
fellow, willing always to make the best of things, and to look on the
brightest side. It is untrue; I am a living hypocrite. Inwardly I revile
the world; because of my own disappointments I can see no good in
it. Good fortune or bad fortune, what does it matter to me now? It
cannot restore my faith, it cannot destroy the shroud which hangs
over my heart. That is the difference between us. You are a
thoroughly good fellow, I am a thoroughly bad one."

"It was not always the same with you. How have you become
soured?"

"Thorough experience. Look here, Chaytor, it is only right you

should be able to read me. You have bared your heart to me, and it
is unfair that I should keep mine closed. There have been times
when business of your own has called you to Sydney. We were never
rich enough to go together, so you had to go alone, while I
remained, in order not to lose the particular luckless claim we
happened to be working in, and out of which we were always going
to make our fortune. On the occasions of your visits you have
executed a small commission for me, entailing but little trouble, but
upon the successful result of which I set great store. It was merely
to call at the Post-Office, and ask for letters for Basil Whittingham.
The answer was always the same: there were none. Every time you
returned and said, 'No letters for you, Basil,' I suffered more than I
can express. There was less light in the world, my heart grew old. I
believe I did not betray myself; at all events, I took pains not to do
so."

"I never knew till now, Basil," said Chaytor falsely, and in a tone
of false pity, "that you thought anything at all of not receiving
letters. You certainly succeeded in making me believe that it did not
matter one way or another."

"That is what I have grown into, a living hypocrite, as I have said.

Why should I inflict my troubles upon you? You have enough of your
own, and I have never been free from the reproach that evil fortune
attends you because you persist in remaining attached to me. But
the honest truth is, I suffered much, and each time the answer was
given there was an added pang to make my sufferings greater. I'll
tell you how it is with me, or rather how it was, for were you torn
from me, were I pursuing my road of life alone, I should feel like a
ghost walking through the world, cut off from love, cut off from
sympathy. Not so many years ago--and yet it seems a lifetime--it
was very different. I know I loved my dear mother, and perhaps in a
lesser degree, but still with a full-hearted love, I loved my father. You
know the whole story of my life; I cannot recall an incident of any
importance in my career in the old country and in others through
which I travelled which I have omitted to tell you. Partly it was
because you took so deep an interest in me, partly because it
gratified me to dwell upon matters which gave me pleasure. Yes,
although my shot was pretty well expended when I left England for
Australia, there is nothing in my history there which causes me
regret. Until the death of my father everything looked fair for me. It
was a good world, a bright world, with joyous possibilities in it, some
of which might in the future be realised. I spent my fortune in
paying my father's debts, and though it alienated my uncle from me
and ruined my prospects, never for one moment did I regret it.
There was no merit due to me in doing what I did; any man of right
feeling would have done the same; you would have been one of the
first to do it. Well, I came out to the Colonies with a light heart and
nearly empty pockets. I had my hardships--what mattered? I was
young, I was strong, I was hopeful, I believed in human goodness.
So I went on my way till I came to Anthony Bidaud's plantation.
There the sun burst forth in its most brilliant colours, and all my
petty trials melted away. Had my nature been soured, it would have
been the same, I think, for love is like the sun shining upon ice. I
met a man and a friend in Anthony Bidaud; we understood and
esteemed each other. I met a little maid to whom my heart went
out--you know whom I mean, little Annette. You never saw her,
Chaytor. When she came to Old Corrie's hut on the day we left Gum
Flat, after you snatched me from a cruel death and nursed me to
strength, you were wandering in the woods, and did not join us till
she had gone. If you had met her you might have some idea of the
feelings I entertained towards her, for although she was but a child
at the time, there was a peculiar attraction and sweetness about her
which could not have failed to make an impression upon you. You
are acquainted with all that passed between me and Annette's
father, of the project he entertained of making me guardian to his
little daughter, and of his strange and sudden death; and you are
also acquainted with the unexpected appearance of Gilbert Bidaud
upon the scene, and what afterwards transpired, to the day upon
which he and his sister and Annette left the colony for Europe. The
little maid promised faithfully to write to me from Europe, and I gave
her instructions, which she could scarcely have forgotten, how to
communicate with me. Her letters were to be directed to the Sydney
Post-office, and she was to let me know how to communicate with
her. Well, unreasonably or not, I fed upon the expectation of these
promised letters, but they never came. We must have some link of
affection to hold on to in this world if life is worth living, and this
was the link to which I clung. From old associations in England I was
absolutely cut away, not one friend was left to me; and when I
arrived at Anthony Bidaud's plantation and made Annette my friend,
I felt as if all the sweetness of life dwelt in her person. It was an
exaggerated view perhaps, but so it was. Since that time three years
have passed, and she is as one dead to me, and I suppose I am as
one dead to her. For some little while after she left I used to indulge
in hopes of wealth, in hopes of striking a golden claim and becoming
rich. Then I used to say to myself, I will go home and wait till
Annette is a woman, when I will take her from the hateful influence
of Gilbert Bidaud, and--and--but, upon my honour, my thoughts got
no farther than this; my dreams and hopes were unformed beyond
the point of proving myself her truest and best friend. But her
silence has changed my nature, and I no longer indulge in hopes
and dreams, I no longer desire riches. The future is a blank: there is
no brightness in it. If it happens that we are fortunate, that after all
our ill luck we should strike a rich claim, I will give you my share of
the gold freely, for I should have no use for it."

"I would not accept it, Basil," said Chaytor; "we will share and
share alike. Have you no desire, then, to return to England?"

"I shall never go back," replied Basil. "My days will be ended in
Australia."

"Where you will one day meet with a woman who will drive all
thoughts of Annette out of your head."

"That can never be."

"You think of her still, then?"

"As she was, not as she is. I live upon the spirit of the past."

He spoke not as a young man, but as one who had lived long
years of sad and bitter experiences. In this he was unconsciously
doing himself a great wrong, for his heart was as tender as ever, and
in reality he had intense faith in the goodness of human nature; but
the theme upon which he had been dilating always, when he
reflected upon or spoke of it, filled his soul with gloom, and so
completely dominated him with its melancholy as to make him
unintentionally false to his true self.

"The question is," said Chaytor, "whether it is worth while to

brood upon such a little matter. The heart of a child--what is it? A
pulse with about as much meaning in it as the heart of an animal.
There is no sincerity in it. I have no doubt you would be amazed if
you were to know Annette as she is now, almost a woman, moulded
after her uncle's teaching, and therefore repulsive in nature as he
was. You are wise in your resolve to make no attempt to shatter an
ideal. I have suffered myself in love and friendship, and I know
better than you how little dependence is to be placed in woman. Let
us get back to the claim. We'll not give it up till we've proved it quite
worthless."

CHAPTER XIX.

Had Basil been acquainted with the extent of Newman Chaytor's

baseness and villainy he would have been confounded by the
revelation. But unhappily for himself he was in entire ignorance of it,
and it was out of the chivalry of his nature that he placed Chaytor on
an eminence, in the way of human goodness, to which few persons
can lay claim. But Basil was a man who formed ideals; it was a
necessity of his existence, and it is such men who in their course
through life are the most deeply wounded.

Chaytor's visits to Sydney were not upon business of his own, he

had none to take him there; they were simply and solely made for
the purpose of obtaining the letters which arrived for Basil from
England, and any also which might arrive for himself; but these
latter were of secondary importance. In his enquiries at the Post-
office he was always furnished with an order signed, "Basil
Whittingham" (of which he was the forger) to deliver to bearer any
letters in that name. Thus he was armed to meet a possible
difficulty, although it would have been easy enough to obtain Basil's
letters without such order. But as he had frequently observed he was
a man who never threw away a chance.

As a matter of fact, he received letters both for himself and Basil,

which he kept carefully concealed in an inner pocket. He had
become a man of method in the crooked paths he was pursuing, and
these letters, before being packed away, were placed in a wrapper,
securely sealed, with written directions outside to the effect that if
anything happened to him and they fell into the hands of another
person they should be immediately burnt. This insured their
destruction in the event of their falling into the hands of Basil, for
Chaytor had implicit faith in his comrade's quixotism and chivalry, at
which he laughed in his sleeve.

It has already been stated that Chaytor had made himself a

master of the peculiarities of Basil's handwriting. Having served his
apprenticeship in his disgraceful career in England he could now
produce an imitation of Basil's hand so perfect as to deceive the
most skilful of experts, who often in genuine writing make mistakes
which should, but do not, confound them. Shortly after Annette and
her uncle and aunt had taken their departure from Australia he
wrote to Basil's uncle in England. It is not necessary to reproduce
the letter; sufficient to say that it was chatty and agreeable, that it
recalled reminiscences which could not but be pleasant to the old
gentleman, that it abounded in affectionate allusions, and wound up
with the expression of a hope that Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham
would live till he was a hundred in health and happiness. There was
not a word in the letter which could be construed into the begging of
a favour; it was all gratitude and affection; and the writer asked
whether there was any special thing in Australia which Mr.
Bartholomew Whittingham would like to have. "Nothing would give
me greater pleasure," said the wily correspondent, "than to obtain
and send it to you in memory of dear old times. I will hunt the emu
for you; I will even send you home a kangaroo. God bless you, my
dear uncle! I have been a foolish fellow I know, but what is done
cannot be undone, and I have only myself to blame. There, I did not
intend to make the most distant allusion to anything in the past that
has offended you, but it slipped out, and I can only ask your
forgiveness." In a postscript the writer said that his address was the
Post Office, Sydney, not, he observed, that he expected Mr.
Bartholomew Whittingham to write to him or answer his letter, but
there was no harm in mentioning it. It was just such a letter as
would delight an old gentleman who had in his heart of hearts a
warm regard for the young fellow whose conduct had displeased
him. Chaytor had some real ability in him, which, developed in a
straight way, would have met with its reward; but there are men
who cannot walk the straight paths, and Chaytor was one of these.

Two months afterwards, before any answer could have reached

him, Chaytor wrote a second letter, as bright and chatty as the first,
brimful of anecdote and story, and this he despatched, curious as to
the result of his arrows. They hit the mark right in the bull's-eye, but
Chaytor was not quite aware of this. However, he was satisfied some
time afterwards at receiving a brief note from a firm of lawyers--not
from Messrs. Rivington, Sons and Rivington, to whom he had been
articled, but from another firm, and for this he was thankful--which
said that Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham had received his nephew's
letter, and was glad to learn that he was in good health and spirits.
That was all, but it was enough for Chaytor. In the first place it
proved that his handwriting was perfect and the circumstances he
spoke of correct. In the second place it proved that Basil's uncle had
a soft spot left for him and that the writer had touched it. In the
third place it proved that his letters were welcome, and that others
would be acceptable.

"A good commencement," thought Chaytor. "I have but to play

my cards boldly, and the old fool's forty thousand pounds will be
mine. What a slice of luck for me that Rivington, Sons, and Rivington
no longer transact his business! At a distance I could deceive them.
At close quarters their suspicions might be excited, although I would
chance even that, if there were no other way. I wonder how long the
old miser will live. I am not anxious that he should die yet; things
are not ripe; there is Basil to get rid of." He was ready and resolved
for any desperate expedient to compass his ends, and he kept not
only the letters he received, but copies of the letters he sent, for
future guidance, if needed. Be sure that he continued to write, and
that he made not the slightest reference to any hope of becoming
the old gentleman's heir, or of being reinstated in his affection. It is
strange how a man's intellect and intelligence are sharpened when
he is following a congenial occupation. Machiavelli himself could not
have excelled Newman Chaytor in the execution of the villainous
scheme he was bent upon carrying out. He became even a fine
judge of character, and not a word he wrote was malapropos. Let it
be stated that, despite the risk he was running, he derived genuine
pleasure from the plot he had devised. He thought himself, with
justice, a very clever fellow; if all went on in England as he hoped it
would he had no fear as to being able to silence or get rid of Basil
on the Australian side of the world. He would be a dolt indeed if he
could not remove a man so weak and trustful as Basil from his path.
He had other letters from Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham's lawyers,
and he knew, from a growing cordiality in their tone (a sentiment in
which lawyers never of their own prompting indulge in their business
transactions) that they were dictated by the old gentleman himself.
His interpretation of Basil's uncle not writing in his own person was
that he had made up his mind not to have any direct personal
communication with his nephew, and that being of an obstinate
disposition, he was not going to break his resolution. "For all that,"
thought Chaytor, "I will have his money. I'll take an even bet that he
has either not destroyed his old will, or that he has made a new one,
making Basil his heir. Newman Chaytor, there are not many men who
can beat you."

He received other letters as well from other persons--from his old

mother, addressed to himself, and from Annette, addressed to Basil.
Certainly when he went to Sydney his hands were full, and he had
enough to do. He did not grudge the labour. He saw in the distance
the pleasures of life awaiting him, and it is a fact that in time he
came to believe that they were his to enjoy, and that Basil had no
rightful claim to them. It was he, Newman Chaytor, who had
schemed for them, who was working for them. What was Basil
doing? Nothing. Standing idly by, without making an effort to come
into his own. "This is the way men get on," said Chaytor to himself,
surveying with pride the letter he had just finished to Basil's uncle,
"and I mean to get on. Why, the trouble of writing this letter alone is
worth a thousand pounds. And what is the risk worth, I should like
to know? I am earning double the money I shall get."

The letters of his old mother to himself were less frequent--not

more than one every nine or ten months. They always commenced,
"My dearly beloved son," and they plunged at once into a description
of the difficulties with which she and her poor husband were
battling. Her first letter gave him a piece of news which caused him
great joy. It informed him that a certain bill which Chaytor had left
behind him, dishonoured, had been bought by his father, at the
sacrifice of some of the doubtful securities which he had saved from
the wreck of his fortune. "You can come home with safety now, my
dear son," wrote the unhappy old woman. "Well, that is a good
hearing," mused Newman Chaytor; "I was always afraid of that bill;
it might have turned up against me at any moment, but now it is
disposed of, and I am safe. So, the old man still had something left
worth money all the time he was preaching poverty to me. Such
duplicity is disgusting. He owes me a lot for frightening me out of
the country as he did. And here is the old woman going on with the
preaching about hard times and poverty. Such selfishness is wicked,
upon my soul it is." It was true that his mother's letters ran
principally on the same theme. They had not a penny; they lived in
one room; their rent was behindhand; her husband was more feeble
than ever; they often went without food, for both she and he were
determined to starve rather than appeal to the parish. Could not her
dear son send them a trifle, if it was only a few shillings, to help
them fight the battle which was drawing to its close? She hoped he
would forgive her for asking him, but times were so hard, and the
winter was very severe. They had had no fire for two days, and the
landlady said if they could not pay the last two weeks' rent that they
would have to turn out. "Try, my dear boy, try, for the sake of the
mother who bore you, and who would sell her heart's blood for you,
if there was a market for it."

These letters annoyed Chaytor, and he thought it horribly hard

that his mother should write them. "It is a try on," he thought; "the
old man has put her up to it. I ought to know the ins and outs of
such transparent tricks. 'Now, write this,' says the old man; 'Now
write that. We must manage to screw something out of him: work
upon his feelings, mother.' That's the way it goes. I'll bet anything
they've got a smoking dinner on the table all the time, but
Newman's at a distance, and can't see it. Oh, no, I can't see
anything; a baby might impose upon me." He never thought of the
night he saw his mother begging in the roadway with a box of
matches in her hands. Some men are gifted with the power of
shutting out inconvenient memories, as there are others who never
lose sight of a kindness they have received or of a debt that is justly
due. Long before this the reader has discovered to which class
Chaytor belonged.

Nevertheless he replied to the letters, cantingly regretting that he

was unable to send his dear old mother the smallest remittance to
help her on in her struggles. "How is it possible," he wrote, "when I
am myself starving? It is months since I have had to work sixteen
hours a day breaking stones on the road for a piece of dry bread.
The hardships I have endured, and am still enduring, are frightful.
This is a horrible place for a gentleman to live in. I should not have
been here if father had not driven me away. It almost drives me mad
to think that if he had not been so hard to me, if he had allowed me
to stop at home and manage his affairs, I could have pulled them
straight, and that we should all of us be living now in comfort and
plenty in the only country in the world where a man can enjoy his
days. You have no idea what kind of place this colony is. Men die like
lambs in the snow, and the sufferings they endure are shocking to
contemplate. I do not suppose I shall live to write you another letter,
but if you can manage to send me a few pounds it may arrive just in
time to save me." And so on, and so on. He took a keen delight in
the duplicities he was practising, and he would read his letters over
with a feeling of pride and exultation in his cleverness. "How many
men are there in the world," he would ask himself, "who could write
such a letter as this? Not many. Upon my word I'm wasted in this
hole and corner. But there's by-and-by to come; when I get hold of
that forty thousand pounds I'll have my revenge. No galley slave
ever worked harder than I am working for a future I mean to enjoy."
That may have been true enough, but the work of a galley slave was
honest labour in comparison with that to which Newman Chaytor
was bending all his energies.

Lastly, there were the letters Annette wrote to Basil. They arrived
at intervals of about four months, so that Chaytor was in possession
of seven or eight of them. Proceeding as they did from a pure and
beautiful nature, these letters, had Basil received them, would have
been like wine to him, would have comforted and strengthened him
through the hardest misfortunes and troubles, would have kept the
sun shining upon him in the midst of the bitterest storms. He would
have continued to work with gladness and hope instead of with
indifference. It would have made the future a bright goal to which
his eyes would ever have been turned with joy. Evidences of
kindness and sympathy, still more, evidences of unselfish affection
and love, are like the dew to the flower. They keep the heart fresh,
they keep its windows ever open to the light. But of this blessing
Basil was robbed by the machinations of a scoundrel: hence there
was no sweetness in his labour, no hope for him in the future. So
much to heart did Basil take Annette's silence that, had his nature
been inclined to evil instead of good, mischief to others would
probably have ensued, but as it was he was the only sufferer. In his
utterances, when he was drawn to speak of the shock he had
received, he was apt to exaggerate matters and to present himself in
the worst light, but there had fallen to his share an inheritance of
moral goodness which rendered it impossible for him to become a
backslider from the paths of rectitude and honour. Except that he
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

testbankdeal.com