Wilfrid had heard from Emilia that there was a tragic background to this outward placidity; tears on the pillow at night and long vigils. Emilia had surprised her weeping, and though she obtained no confidences, the soft mood was so strong in the stately lady, that she consented to weep on while Emilia clasped her. Petitioning on her behalf to Wilfrid for aid, Emilia had told him the scene; and he, with a man's stupidity, alluded to it, not thinking what his knowledge of it revealed to a woman. "Why do you vacillate, and keep us all in the dark as to what you mean?" he began. "I am not prepared," said Cornelia; the voice of humility issuing from a monument. "One of your oracular phrases! Are you prepared to be straightforward in your dealings?" "I am prepared for any sacrifice, Wilfrid." "The marrying of a man in his position is a sacrifice!" "I cannot leave papa." "And why not?" "He is ill. He does not speak of it, but he is ill. His actions are strange. They are unaccountable." "He has an old friend to reside in his house?" "It is not that. I have noticed him. His mind...he requires watching." "And how long is it since you made this discovery?" "One sees clearer perhaps when one is not quite happy." "Not happy! Then it's for him that you turn the night to tears?" Cornelia closed her lips. She divined that her betrayer must be close in his confidence. She went shortly after to Emilia, whose secret at once stood out bare to a kindled suspicion. There was no fear that Cornelia would put her finger on it accusingly, or speak of it directly. She had the sentimentalist's profound respect for the name and notion of love. She addressed Emilia vaguely, bidding her keep guard on her emotions, and telling her there was one test of the truth of masculine protestations; this, Will he marry you? The which, if you are poor, is a passably infallible test. Emilia sucked this in thoughtfully. She heard that lovers were false. Why, then of course they were not like her lover! Cornelia finished what she deemed her duty, and departed, while Emilia thought: "I wonder whether he could be false to me;" and she gave herself shrewd half-delicious jarrings of pain, forcing herself to contemplate the impossible thing.