He refused to believe that Anna was not ‘Alcide. If there were any pearls, none came into the light. 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. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. ” John looked at her sympathetically.
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