She tried to sing.

"No, not till I have been with him alone;" she said, chiding her voice to silence.
A shadow crossed her mind, as a Spring-mist dulls the glory of May.
"Suppose all singing has gone from me--will he love wretched me ?" By-and-by she met him in the house.

"Come out of doors to-night," she whispered.
Wilfrid's spirit of intrigue was never to be taken by surprise.

"In the wood, under the pine, at nine," he replied.
"Not there," said Emilia, seeing this place mournfully dark from Cornelia's grief.

"It is too still; say, where there's water falling.
One can't be unhappy by noisy water." Wilfrid considered, and named Wilming Weir.