“Did Madeline try to get away?”
“At first she did; but after a while all her struggles ceased, and she laid her head back against her, half shutting her eyes, and looking like one just going to sleep.”
The doctor’s countenance assumed a still graver aspect.
“Was this woman an entire stranger?” he asked, in tones of surprise, turning to Mrs. Dainty.
“She came highly recommended by Mrs. Ashton, as an accomplished Englishwoman, the widow of a distinguished officer who died in the service of the East India Company.”
“Her own story, I suppose, believed by Mrs. Ashton without evidence. And on this slight knowledge of the woman you placed these tender, impressible children under her control!”
And the doctor shook his head ominously.
“There has been harm done here,” he added, “beyond my skill to cure.”
“What harm?” Mrs. Dainty’s face grew suddenly as pale as the face of her unconscious child.
“Do you not know, madam,” said the doctor, “that there are men and women at this day who possess an evil power over the minds of those who submit themselves to their influence, stronger than even the witch of Endor possessed of old,—persons in mysterious league with evil spirits, who delight through them to break down the soul’s God-given freedom and make it the slave of their will? If this were my child, I would rather a thousand times see her pass upward into heaven than live on here exposed to the assaults of infernal spirits, who, in my opinion, have gained admittance to her through this evil woman’s power!”