ad given her a consciousness of infidelity to her Art, but now the
pathetic appeal to her took away her strength, and tears rose in her
eyes at the thought of his faith in her. His repetition of her name--the
'Sandra' being uttered with unwonted softness--plunged her into a fit of
weeping.

"Ah!" Mr. Pericles shouted. "See what she has come to!" and he walked
two or three paces off to turn upon her spitefully, "she will be
vapeurs, nerfs, I know not! when it wants a physique of a saint! Sandra
Belloni," he added, gravely, "lift up ze head! Sing, 'Sempre al tuo
santo nome.'"

Emilia checked her tears. His hand being raised to beat time, she could
not withstand the signal. "Sempre;"--there came two struggling notes, to
which another clung, shuddering like two creatures on the deeps.

She stopped; herself oddly calling out "Stop."

"Stop who, donc?" Mr. Pericles postured an indignant interrogation.

"I mean, I must stop," Emilia faltered. "It's the fog. I cannot sing in
this fog. It chokes me."

Apparently Mr. Pericles was about to say something frightfully savage,
which was restrained by the presence of Sir Purcell. He went to the door
in answer to a knock, while Emilia drew breath as calmly as she
might; her head moving a little backward with her breathing, in a sad
mechanical way painful to witness. Sir Purcell stretched his hand out to
her, but she did not take it. She was listening to voices at the door.
Was it really Mr. Pole who was there? Quite unaware of the effect
the sight of her would produce on him, Emilia rose and walked to the
doorway. She heard Mr. Pole abusing Mr. Pericles half banteringly for
his absence while business was urgent, saying that they must lay their
heads together and consult, otherwise--a significant indication appeared
to close the sentence.

"But if you've just come off your journey, and have got a lady in there,
we must postpone, I suppose. Say, this afternoon. I'll keep up to the
mark, if nothing happens...."

Emilia pushed the door from the hand of Mr. Pericles, and was advancing
toward the old man on the landing; but no sooner did the latter verify
to his startled understanding that he had seen her, than with an
exclamation of "All right! good-bye!" he began a rapid descent, of the
stairs. A distance below, he bade Mr. Pericles take care of her, and as
an excuse for his abrupt retreat, the word "busy" sounded up.

"Does my face frighten him?" Emilia thought. It made her look