“I wonder how long it takes to walk to Elberthal!” I suggested darkly.
“Oh, a mere trifle of a walk. You might do it in four or five hours, I dare say.”
I bit my lips, trying not to cry.
“Perhaps we might make some other arrangement,” he remarked. “I am going to Elberthal too.”
“You! Thank Heaven!” was my first remark. Then as a doubt came over me: “Then why—why—”
Here I stuck fast, unable to ask why he had said so many tormenting things to me, pretended to teach me German phrases, and so on. The words would not come out. Meanwhile he, without apparently feeling it necessary to explain himself upon these points, went on:
“Yes. I have been at a probe” (not having the faintest idea as to what a probe might be, and not liking to ask, I held my peace and bowed assentingly). He went on, “And I was delayed a little. I had intended to go by the train you have lost, so if you are not afraid to trust yourself to my care we can travel together.”
“You—you are very kind.”
“Then you are not afraid?”