I resolved, however, to gain his consent if I could.
He had by this time as great a respect for my uncle as I had myself, but
could not feel at home with him as I did. Whether the vision was only a
vision, or indeed my uncle's double, whatever a double may be, the tale
of it could hardly be an agreeable one to him; and naturally John shrank
from the risk of causing him the least annoyance.
The question of course came up, what he was to do when able to leave us.
He had spoken very plainly to my uncle concerning his relations with his
mother--had told him indeed that he could not help suspecting he owed his
illness to her.
I was nearly always present when they talked, but remember in especial a
part of what passed on one occasion.
"I believe I understand my mother," said John, "--but only after much
thinking. I loved her when a child; and if she had not left me for the
sake of liberty and influence--that at least is how I account for her
doing so--I might at this moment be struggling for personal freedom,
instead of having that over."
"There are women," returned my uncle, "some of them of the most admired,
who are slaves to a demoniacal love of power. The very pleasure of their
consciousness consists in the knowledge that they have power--not power
to do things, but power to make other people do things. It is an
insanity, but a devilishly immoral and hateful insanity.
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