’ Lucilla sat up. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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