ut to descend. I pitied his
poor trembling hand I went on shore in the second boat with him. We did
not find the others for an hour, when we heard that Emilia had gone with
Signor M. The next day, whom should we sea but Mr. Pericles. He (I have
never seen him so civil)--he shook Wilfrid by the hand almost like an
Englishman; and Wilfrid too, though he detests him, was civil to him,
and even laughed when he said: 'Here it is dull; ze Continent for a
week. I follow Philomela--ze nightingales.' I was just going to say,
'Well then, you are running away from one.' Wilfrid pressed my fingers,
and taught me to be still; and I did not know why till I reflected. Poor
Mr. Pericles, seeing him friendly for the first time, rubbed his hands
and it was most painful to me to see him shake hands with Wilfrid again
and again, till he was on board the vessel chuckling. Wilfrid suddenly
laughed with all his might--a cruel laugh; and Mr. Pericles tried to be
as loud, but commenced coughing and tapping his chest, to explain that
his intention was good. Bella! the passion of love must be judged by the
person who inspires it; and I cannot even go so far as to feel pity for
Wilfrid if he has stooped to the humiliation of--there is another way
of regarding it, know. Let him be sincere and noble; but not his own
victim. He scarcely holds up his head. We are now for Devon. Tracy
is with us; and we never did a wiser thing than when we decided to
patronize poets. If kept in order--under--they are the aristocracy of
light conversationalists. Adieu! We speed for beautiful Devon. 'Me love
to Pole, and I'm just,' etc. That will do this time; next, she will
speak herself. That I should wish it! But the world is full of change,
as I begin to learn. What will ensue?"

CHAPTER XXXV

When Mrs. Chump had turned her back on Brookfield, the feelings of the
outcast woman were too deep for much distinctly acrimonious sensation
toward the ladies; but their letters soon lifted and revived her, until,
being in a proper condition of prickly wrath, she sat down to compose
a reply that should bury them under a mountain of shame. The point,
however, was to transfer this mountain from her bosom, which laboured
heavily beneath it, to their heads. Nothing could appear simpler. Here
is the mountain; the heads are yonder. Accordingly, she prepared to
commence. In a moment the difficulty yawned monstrous. For the mountain
she felt was not a mountain of shame; yet that