Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. 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. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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