The first half-mile was occupied, on Wilkinson's part, in little would-be efforts to make his companion more comfortable. He shifted himself about into the furthest corner so as to give her more room; he pulled his cloak out from under her, and put it over her knees to guard her from the dust; and recommended her three times to put up her parasol. Then he had a word or two to say to the neighbours; but that only lasted as long as he was in his own parish. Then he came to a hill which gave him an opportunity of walking; and on getting in again he occupied half a minute in taking out his watch, and assuring Adela that she would not be too late for the train.
But when all this was done, the necessity for conversation still remained. They had hardly been together—thrown for conversation on each other as they now were—since that day when Arthur had walked over for the last time to West Putford. Reader, do you remember it? Hardly; for have not all the fortunes and misfortunes of our more prominent hero intervened since that chapter was before you?
"I hope you will find yourself comfortable at Littlebath," he said at last.
"Oh, yes; that is, I shall be when my aunt comes home. I shall be at home then, you know."
"But that will be some time?"
"I fear so; and I dread greatly going to this Miss Todd, whom I have never seen. But you see, dear Miss Baker must go back to Hadley soon, and Miss Todd has certainly been very good-natured in offering to take me."
Then there was another silence, which lasted for about half a mile.
"My mother would have been very glad if you would have stayed at the parsonage till your aunt's return; and so would my sisters—and so should I."
"You are all very kind—too kind," said Adela.
Then came another pause, perhaps for a quarter of a mile, but it was up-hill work, and the quarter of a mile passed by very slowly.