In answer Mr. Pericles announced that he had spoken what was simply true:  that the prosperity of the Poles was fictitious:  that he, or any unfavourable chance, could ruin them:  and that their friends might do better to protect their interests than by menacing one who had them in his power.

Sir Purcell merely reiterated his demand for the promise, which was ultimately snarled to him; whereupon he retired, joy on his features.  For, Cornelia poor, she might be claimed by him fearlessly:  that is to say, without the fear of people whispering that the penniless baronet had sued for gold, and without the fear of her father rejecting his suit.  At least he might, with this knowledge that he had gained, appoint to meet her now!  All the morning Sir Purcell had been combative, owing to that subordinate or secondary post he occupied in a situation of some excitement;—­which combativeness is one method whereby men thus placed, imagining that they are acting devotedly for their friends, contrive still to assert themselves.  He descended to the foot of the stairs, where he had told Emilia to wait for him, full of kind feelings and ready cheerful counsels; as thus:  “Nothing that we possess belongs to us;—­All will come round rightly in the end; Be patient, look about for amusement, and improve your mind.”  And more of this copper coinage of wisdom in the way of proverbs.  But Emilia was nowhere visible to receive the administration of comfort.  Outside the house the fog appeared to have swallowed her.  With some chagrin on her behalf (partly a sense of duty unfulfilled) Sir Purcell made his way to the residence of the Marinis, to report of her there, if she should not have arrived.  The punishment he inflicted on himself in keeping his hand an hour from that letter to be written to Cornelia, was almost pleasing; and he was rewarded by it, for the projected sentences grew mellow and rich, condensed and throbbed eloquently.  What wonder, that with such a mental occupation, he should pass Emilia and not notice her?  She let him go.

But when he was out of sight, all seemed gone.  The dismally-lighted city wore a look of Judgement terrible to see.  Her brain was slave to her senses:  she fancied she had dropped into an underground kingdom, among a mysterious people.  The anguish through which action had just hurried her, now fell with a conscious weight upon her heart.  She stood a moment, seeing her desolation stretch outwardly into endless labyrinths; and then it narrowed and took hold of her as a force within:  changing thus, almost with each breathing of her body.

The fog had thickened.  Up and down the groping city went muffled men, few women.  Emilia looked for one of her sex who might have a tender face.  Desire to be kissed and loved by a creature strange to her, and to lay her head upon a woman’s bosom, moved her to gaze around with a longing once or twice; but no eyes met hers, and the fancy recurred vividly that she was not in the world she had known.