But what a blind fool I have been! In my enthusiasm
over my research I have walked straight into the pit,
although it lay gaping before me. Did she not herself
warn me? Did she not tell me, as I can read in my own
journal, that when she has acquired power over a
subject she can make him do her will? And she has
acquired that power over me. I am for the moment at
the beck and call of this creature with the crutch. I
must come when she wills it. I must do as she wills.
Worst of all, I must feel as she wills. I loathe her
and fear her, yet, while I am under the spell, she can
doubtless make me love her.

There is some consolation in the thought, then, that
those odious impulses for which I have blamed myself do
not really come from me at all. They are all
transferred from her, little as I could have guessed it
at the time. I feel cleaner and lighter for the
thought.

April 8. Yes, now, in broad daylight, writing coolly
and with time for reflection, I am compelled to confirm
every thing which I wrote in my journal last night. I
am in a horrible position, but, above all, I must not
lose my head. I must pit my intellect against her
powers. After all, I am no silly puppet, to dance at
the end of a string. I have energy, brains, courage.
For all her devil's tricks I may beat her yet. May! I
MUST, or what is to become of me?