Although she repeated to
herself that she wanted never to see him again, Margaret could scarcely
resist an overwhelming desire to go to him. Her will had been taken from
her, and she was an automaton. She struggled, like a bird in the fowler's
net with useless beating of the wings; but at the bottom of her heart she
was dimly conscious that she did not want to resist. If he had given her
that address, it was because he knew she would use it. She did not know
why she wanted to go to him; she had nothing to say to him; she knew only
that it was necessary to go. But a few days before she had seen the
_Phedre_ of Racine, and she felt on a sudden all the torments that wrung
the heart of that unhappy queen; she, too, struggled aimlessly to escape
from the poison that the immortal gods poured in her veins. She asked
herself frantically whether a spell had been cast over her, for now she
was willing to believe that Haddo's power was all-embracing. Margaret
knew that if she yielded to the horrible temptation nothing could save
her from destruction.
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