“Yes. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. 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. " Darrell's attention was drawn to the latter part of this speech by a slight pressure on his foot. "He's about to cross the river. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly.
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