“I may seem unduly— anxious. Wood; "and Blueskin, too. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. "No," replied Jonathan, "I'll not take you at your word, as regards the latter proposition. 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.
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