good-bye to the poor woman, for
having harboured any doubts of the establishment. But when the gruff
landlord, standing outside the door, smoking of course, nodded a surly
"adieu" in return to our parting greeting, my feeling of unutterable
thankfulness that we were not to spend another night under his roof
regained the ascendant.

"Perhaps he is offended at my not having told him how I mean to get
away, notwithstanding his stupidity about it," I said to myself, as we
passed him. But no, there was no look of vindictiveness, of malice, of
even annoyance on his dark face. Nay, more, I could almost have fancied
there was the shadow of a smile as Reggie tugged at his Tam o' Shanter
by way of a final salute. That landlord was really one of the most
incomprehensible human beings it has ever been my fate to come across,
in fact or fiction.

We had retained Lieschen to carry our modest baggage to the post-house,
and having deposited it at the side of the road just where the coach
stopped, she took her leave, apparently more than satisfied with the
small sum of money I gave her, and civilly wishing us a pleasant
journey. But though less gruff, she was quite as impassive as the
landlord. She never asked where we were going, if we were likely ever to
return again, and like her master, as I said, had we been staying there
still, I do not believe she would ever have made an inquiry or expressed
the slightest astonishment.

"There is really something very queer about Silberbach," I could not
help saying to Nora, "both about the place and the people. They almost
give one the feeling that they are half-witted, and yet they evidently
are not. This last day or two I seem to have been living in a sort of
dream or nightmare, and I shall not get over it altogether till we are
fairly out of the place;" and though she said little, I felt sure the
child understood me.

We were of course far, far too early for the post. The old man came out
of his house, and seemed amused at our haste to be gone.

"I am afraid Silberbach has not taken your fancy," he said. "Well, no
wonder. I think it is the dreariest place I ever saw."

"Then you do not belong to it? Have you not been here long?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Only a few months, and I hope to get removed soon," he said. So _he_
could have told me nothing, evidently! "It is too lonely here. There is
not a creature in the place who ever touches a book--they are all as
dull and stupid