“Oh! beastly bathos!” Tracy groaned in his heart.  “Here we are down in Avernus in a twinkling!”

There was evidently quick talk going on among the three, after which Emilia, heavily weighted, walked a little apart with Mr. Pericles, who looked lean and lank beside her, and gesticulated in his wildest manner.  Tracy glanced about for Wilfrid.  The latter was not visible, but, stepping up the bank of sand and moss, appeared a lady in shawl and hat, in whom he recognized Lady Charlotte.  He went up to her and saluted.

“Ah!  Tracy,” she said.  “I saw you leave the drawing room, and expected to find you here.  So, the little woman has got her voice again; but why on earth couldn’t she make the display at Richford?  It’s very pretty, and I dare say you highly approve of this kind of romantic interlude, Signor Poet, but it strikes me as being rather senseless.”

“But, are you alone?  What on earth brings you here?” asked Tracy.

“Oh!” the lady shrugged.  “I’ve a guard to the rear.  I told her I would come.  She said I should hear something to-night, if I did.  I fancied naturally the appointment had to do with her voice, and wished to please her.  It’s only five minutes from the west-postern of the park.  Is she going to sing any more?  There’s company apparently.  Shall we go and declare ourselves?”

“I’m on duty, and can’t,” replied Tracy, and twisting his body in an ecstasy, added:  “Did you hear her?”

Lady Charlotte laughed softly.  “You speak as if you had taken a hurt, my dear boy.  This sort of scene is dangerous to poets.  But, I thought you slighted music.”

“I don’t know whether I’m breathing yet,” Tracy rejoined.  She’s a Goddess to me from this moment.  Not like music?  Am I a dolt?  She would raise me from the dead, if she sang over me.  Put me in a boat, and let her sing on, and all may end!  I could die into colour, hearing her!  That’s the voice they hear in heaven.”

“When they are good, I suppose,” the irreverent lady appended.  “What’s that?” And she held her head to listen.

Emilia’s mortal tones were calling Wilfrid’s name.  The lady became grave, as with keen eyes she watched the open space, and to a second call Wilfrid presented himself in a leisurely way from under cover of the trees; stepping into the square towards the three, as one equal to all occasions, and specially prepared for this.  He was observed to bow to Mr. Pericles, and the two men extended hands, Laura Tinley standing decently away from them.

Lady Charlotte could not contain her mystification.  “What does it mean?” she said.  “Wilfrid was to be in town at the Ambassador’s to-night!  He wrote to me at five o’clock from his Club!  Is he insane?  Has he lost every sense of self-interest?  He can’t have made up his mind to miss his opportunity, when all the introductions are there!  Run, like a good creature, Tracy, and see if that is Wilfrid, and come back and tell me; but don’t sag I am here.”