“You never shall!” Wilfrid caught her in his arms, quite conquered by her, proud of her.  He reflected with a loving rapture that her manner at that moment was equal to any lady’s; and the phantom of her with her hand out, and her frank look, and trustful footing, while she spoke those words, kept on advancing to him all the way to Brookfield, at the same time that the sober reality murmured at his elbow.

Love, with his accustomed cunning, managed thus to lift her out of the mire and array her in his golden dress to idealize her, as we say.  Reconciled for the hour were the contesting instincts in the nature of this youth the adoration of feminine refinement and the susceptibility to sensuous impressions.  But Emilia walked with a hero:  the dream of all her days! one, generous and gentle, as well as brave:  who had fought for her, had thought of her tenderly, was with her now, having raised her to his level with a touch!  How much might they not accomplish together:  he with sword, she with harp?  Through shadowy alleys in the clouds, Emilia saw the bright Italian plains opening out to her:  the cities of marble, such as her imagination had fashioned them, porticos of stately palaces, and towers, and statues white among cypresses; and farther, minutely-radiant in the vista as a shining star, Venice of the sea.  Fancy made the flying minutes hours.  Now they marched with the regiments of Italy, under the folds of her free banner; now she sang to the victorious army, waving the banner over them; and now she floated in a gondola, and turning to him, the dear home of her heart, yet pale with the bleeding of his wound for Italy, said softly, in the tone that had power with him, “Only let me please you!”

“When?  Where?  What with?” came the blunt response from England, with electric speed, and Emilia fell from the clouds.

“I meant my singing; I thought of how I sang to you.  Oh, happy time!” she exclaimed, to cut through the mist of vision in her mind.

“To me? down at the booth?” muttered Wilfrid, perplexed.

“Oh, no!  I mean, just now—­” and languid with the burden of so full a heart, she did not attempt to explain herself further, though he said, invitingly, “I thought I heard you humming?”

Then he was seized with a desire to have the force of her spirit upon him, for Brookfield was in view; and with the sight of Brookfield, the natural fascination waxed a shade fainter, and he feared it might be going.  This (he was happily as ignorant as any other youth of the working of his machinery) prompted him to bid her sing before they parted.  Emilia checked her steps at once to do as he desired.  Her throat filled, but the voice quavered down again, like a fainting creature sick unto death.  She made another effort and ended with a sorrowful look at his narrowly-watching eyes.

“I can’t,” she said; and, in fear of his anger, took his hand to beg forgiveness, while her eyelids drooped.