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. "He has passed this way," cried Jonathan, exultingly; "I have him safe enough. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. We have lived under the same roof, but our ways seem to have lain wide apart.
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