“How can I think of that now? What does it matter?” said Cherry, with the roughness of excessive pain. “It is far worse to wait.”
“Yes, but depend upon it, they are as anxious as you are. Certainly I shall go, and the guides; but, you see, speed is an object.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t cough and lose my breath now!” said Cherry. “Indeed, I can walk up hill.”
Mr Stanforth could hardly answer him, and he went on vehemently,—
“You know Alvar is much too fidgety; he thinks I can do nothing. But, at least, let us all ride to the foot of the mountain; perhaps we shall meet them yet.”
“Yes, that at any rate we will do. Give your orders, and then come and get some chocolate.”
Miss Weston had taken care that this was ready, and Cherry sat down and ate and drank, trying to put a good face on the matter before the ladies.
After they started on their ride he was very silent, and hardly spoke a word till they came to the little inn where the mules had been left the day before. Then he said very quietly to Mr Stanforth,—
“Perhaps I had better wait—I might hinder you.”
“I think it would be best,” said Mr Stanforth, with merciful absence of comment, for he knew what the sense of incapacity must have been to Cherry then.