They arrived during the night, whilst all the inmates were asleep, so turned out their horses, and retired to their quarters.
Mat was up and out again by daylight, and, seeing no one about, thought that he would stroll down and look at Annie’s garden, but early as he was he found by the tracks that some one had preceded him, and passing through the little gate, he came face to face with Tabor.
“Why, Mat, I am right glad to see you,” was the cheery greeting as he grasped his hand; “I guessed it was you last night when I heard the horses. I have been doing a bit of weeding and looking after Annie’s plants, for she says that her gardener is away, and that the whole place is going to ruin.”
Mat longed to ask about her, anything and everything, but he controlled his impatience until an opportunity should arise.
“Let us sit in the arbour whilst I rest my old back,” said the parson, “and you can tell me of your travels until breakfast-time.”
Mat was only too pleased to have a quiet chat with his good old friend, but the account of his late overland journey gradually drifted into questioning Tabor concerning events which had taken place at Bulinda during his absence; from this he led up to talking of the family, and eventually said,—
“Mr. Tabor, I must tell you now of what passed between the squire and me after I had been to consult you once,” and having detailed the conversation that had taken place, Mat continued,—
“And now, sir, tell me, am I wrong in presuming to think of asking Miss Bell to be my wife? And please give me your opinion about marriage generally; it may seem a strange question, but I never could and I never would ask any one but yourself.”
His companion sat with face hidden in his hands, and head bowed in deep thought for several minutes, without opening his lips; then, raising himself, he faced round so as to meet Mat’s gaze, and at length thus spoke Tabor, the oracle,—
“My lad, as you tell me that you have appealed to the squire, who has never said a word to me on the subject, and that on the whole he was not unfavourable to you as a possible suitor for the hand of Annie, I may now advise you according to my lights; at the same time I warn you not to raise your hopes through any words that may drop from my lips; for though I do not mix myself up in these matters, I cannot have failed to notice the great attention that has been paid to Annie during your absence, upon the few occasions on which I have accompanied her and her parents to Sydney.