ied Adela, overcome by the transition of tones.

"Like going from the nightingale to the nightjar," said Arabella.

Mrs. Chump remarked: "Ye'll not find a more susceptible woman to musuc
than me."

Wilfrid looked away. Pride coursed through his veins in a torrent.

When the voice was still, Mr. Pericles remained in a pondering posture.

"You go to play fool with zat voice in Milano, you are flogged," he cried
terribly, shaking his forefinger.

Wilfrid faced round in wrath, but Mr. Pericles would not meet his
challenge, continuing: "You hear? you hear?--so!" and Mr. Pericles
brought the palms of his hands in collision.

"Marcy, man!" Mrs. Chump leaped from her chair; "d'ye mean that those
horrud forr'ners'll smack a full-grown young woman?--Don't go to 'm, my
dear. Now, take my 'dvice, little Belloni, and don't go. It isn't the
sting o' the smack, ye know--"

"Shall I sing anything to you?" Emilia addressed Mr. Pericles. The latter
shrugged to express indifference. Nevertheless she sang. She had never
sung better. Mr. Pericles clutched his chin in one hand, elbow on knee.
The ladies sighed to think of the loss of homage occasioned by the fact
of so few being present to hear her. Wilfrid knew himself the fountain of
it all, and stood fountain-like, in a shower of secret adulation: a
really happy fellow. This: that his beloved should be the centre of eyes,
and pronounced exquisite by general approbation, besides subjecting him
to a personal spell: this was what he wanted. It was mournful to think
that Circumstance had not at the same time created the girl of noble
birth, or with an instinct for spiritual elegance. But the world is
imperfect.

Presently he became aware that she was understood to be singing pointedly
to him: upon which he dismissed the council of his sensations, and began
to diplomatize cleverly. Leaning over to Adela, he whispered:

"Pericles wants her to go to Italy. My belief is, that she won't."

"And why?" returned Adela, archly reproachful.

"Well, we've been spoiling her a little, perhaps. I mean, we men, of
course. But, I really don't think that I'm chiefly to blame. You won't
allow Captain Gambier to be in fault, I know."

"Why not?" said Adela.

"Well, if you will, then he is the principal offender."

Adela acted disbelief; but, unprepared for her brother's perfectly
feminine audacity of dissimulation, she thought: "He can't be in earnest
about the girl," and was led to fancy that