"She may be alarmed," he said; "in any case, the question must be broached to her by degrees."
I answered nothing, but thought to myself: "then, it will be another week before we start."
He did not mention to me the grounds of this impulse to "go to Styria," but I assumed that the words of his sister, random as they were, had roused and set him furiously thinking, as they had set me. Indeed, the miracle had been very numbing to the intellect, as it were bludgeoning one's head, so I was glad to notice that afternoon an almost playfulness in Langler during a visit of Miss Jane and Miss Lizzie (Chambers), for it seemed to show that nature in him was at last roused to cast off a gloom which it found unbearable.
Still, this new gaiety of his was certainly a little forced, a little distempered. I was rather puzzled. Once when Miss Emily left the room, Langler seemed only to have waited for this in order to say to the Misses Chambers: "I am on the very verge of a voyage to Styria."
"Styria!" they said together.
"What, is Styria so remote?" asked Langler, leaning forward with a quizzing look. "I didn't say China, I said Styria—a two days' journey by the new rail-trains, with 'every luxury' en route! Do you imagine, then, that you will never see me again?"
"But can he be serious?" asked one of the ladies over her tea-cup: "Emily said nothing of it."
"Emily does not happen to know!" cried Langler—"that is something in store for Emily!"
"Then it is hardly a serious intention, since Emily has not yet been told."
"Who lives will see if it is serious!" said Langler.