And Annie was as good as her word, never leaving Tim without his cooling drinks, making him jellies and other delicacies with her own hands, sitting by his bedside night after night, and when at length he was able to leave his bed, it was upon the same fair nurse’s arm that he leaned, to take his first feeble walks on the verandah.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Squire’s offer—Tim decides to go home—Our heroine’s advice to Mat—Our forester takes to gardening—The “new chum’s” difficulties and troubles.
The squire, one evening after the inmates of Bulinda Creek had once more settled down to their quiet every-day life, beckoned Mat on to the verandah for a smoke. When they had made themselves comfortable in a couple of “squatters,” or easy seats made of canvas, propped on two poles, the old man spoke.
“Mat, my lad, I have heard the opinion of the doctor, that Tim should go home. I hope that you and he will accept the offer that I am going to make to you. If he wishes to go, and I believe he does, I propose to pay his passage to the old country in the best ship that we can find, and I intend to start him in the forest with a thousand pounds, so that he can take a little farm, or buy a bit of land, and he shall draw upon me for any farther sum he may require.”
Mat was about to thank him for this generous proposal, but the squire stopped him.
“I know that you will never take money without working for it and all that, but remember, should you wish to ease your conscience, you can repay me when you are a rich man, and I intend to put you on a road by which you may attain this, the particulars of my scheme I will explain to you in good time. Another thing, you can also help your brother and yourself by accepting the purse that was subscribed for you, and which money I long ago placed out at interest in the bank, and then there are your nuggets worth at least three pounds sterling an ounce, and—”
“True enough, squire,” interrupted Mat, “they are what brought all the misery to your house, and to Tim too, for ’twas Magan, of course, that shot him. I wish I had put them in the bank, when I landed in Sydney.”
“Very well, Mat, and now I have a proposition to make which concerns yourself. No one in this country could have rescued my daughter under the peculiarly difficult circumstances of the case, as you did it”—here Bell paused to light up another pipe, whilst our forester waited with impatience, he scarcely knew why, for his next words. The squire quietly puffed at his pipe, and continued, “Had the police come up with this Magan, I feel convinced that, proof as he was against their bullets, he would have retreated fighting to the cave, and rather than surrender would have killed Annie, for the brute would as soon have shot a woman as a man; and, bear in mind, I never shall forget that that gallant chief of yours saved your life, and thus the lives of others, and I will make it one of my first cares to reward him and his wife, and the whole of his tribe, in any way you think they will most appreciate. But to come back to yourself, Mat. You of all men will appreciate deeds rather than words, and I propose that from this date you take up your abode with us, and go equal shares with me in all the property I possess.
“Tom wishes this as well. Remember that you will be, as the younger man, the working partner, and will consequently be of the greatest assistance to me, who am getting a bit portly and old. Now go and sleep over all this. To-morrow I will show you my books, and then you can tell me if you agree. Tom, who is well provided for, says you must, and I say you shall.”