“Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort. “Yes. 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. You can do it, if you will. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. D'ye hear. E. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. If he recovers he may not accuse her. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. The three of them laughed joyously. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. There you are! Girl spoilt for life.
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