led over and possessed him. Believing Braintop to be
in danger of harm, she beckoned to some of the faces crowding the
windows; but the movement was not seen, as none of the circumstances were
at all understood. Wilfrid, however, knew well who had sung those three
bars, concerning which the 'Prima donna' questioned Mr. Pericles, and
would not be put off by hearing that it was a startled jackdaw, or an
owl, and an ole nightingale. The Greek rubbed his hands. "Now to
recommence," he said; "and we shall not notice a jackdaw again." His eye
went sideways watchfully at Wilfrid. "You like zat piece of opera?"

"Immensely," said Wilfrid, half bowing to the Signora--to whom, as to
Majesty, Mr. Pericles introduced him, and fixed him.

"Now! To seats!"

Mr. Pericles' mandates was being obeyed, when a cry of "Wilfrid!" from
Emilia below, raised a flutter.

Mr. Pole had been dozing in his chair. He rose at the cry, looking hard,
with a mechanical jerk of the neck, at two or three successive faces, and
calling, "Somebody--somebody" to take his outstretched hand trembling in
a paroxysm of nervous terror.

Hearing his son's name again, but more faintly, he raised his voice for
Martha. "Don't let that girl come near me! I--I can't get on with foreign
girls!"

His eyes went among the curious faces surrounding him. "Wilfrid!" he
shouted. To the second summons, "Sir" was replied, in the silence.
Neither saw the other as they spoke.

"Are you going out to her, Wilfrid?"

"Someone called me, sir."

"He's got the cunning of hell," said Mr. Pole, baffled by his own
agitation.

"Oh! don't talk o' that place," moaned Mrs. Chump.

"Stop!" cried the old man. "Are you going? Stop! you shan't do mischief.
I mean--there--stop! Don't go. You're not to go. I say you're not to go
out."

Emphasis and gesticulations gave their weight to the plain words.

But rage at the upset of all sentiments and dignity that day made Wilfrid
reckless, and he now felt his love to be all he had. He heard his Emilia
being dragged away to misery--perhaps to be sold to shame. Maddened, he
was incapable of understanding his father's state, or caring for what the
world thought. His sisters gathered near him, but were voiceless.

"Is he gone?" Mr. Pole burst forward. "You're gone, sir? Wilfrid, have
you gone to that girl? I ask you whether...(there's one shot at my
heart," he added in a swift undertone to one of the heads near him, while
he caught at his brea