suppose me an innocent, and believe herself assisting in my seduction. She will persuade me, first, into marriage with him, then into a—he hesitates, before admitting the word—a madhouse. But, there she will take my place. She will protest—he hopes she will!—for the more she does, the more the madhouse keepers will read it as a form of lunacy; and so keep her the closer.
''And with her, Miss Lilly,'' he says finally, ''they keep close your name, your history as your mother''s daughter, your uncle''s niece— in short, all that marks you as yourself. Think of it! They will pluck from your shoulders the weight of your life, as a servant would lift free your cloak; and you shall make your naked, invisible way to any part of the world you choose—to any new life—and there re-clothe yourself to suit your fancy.''
This is the liberty—the rare and sinister liberty—he has come to Briar to offer. For payment