as clearly as he did--more clearly, perhaps;
for, while he only arrived at the conclusion by a process of
reasoning, she reached it intuitively at a single step. She knew that
he loved her, that he had loved her from the moment that their hands
had first met in greeting, and, peerless as she was among women, she
was still a woman, and the homage of such a man as this was sweet to
her, albeit it was still unspoken.

She knew, too, that the hopes of the Revolution, which, before all
things human, claimed her whole-souled devotion, now depended mainly
upon him, and the use that he might make of the power that lay in his
hands, and this of itself was no light bond between them, though not
necessarily having anything to do with affection.

So far she was heart-whole, and though many had attempted the task,
no man had yet made her pulses beat a stroke faster for his sake.
Ever since she had been old enough to know what tyranny meant, she
had been trained to hate it, and prepared to work against it, and, if
necessary, to sacrifice herself body and soul to destroy it.

Thus hatred rather than love had been the creed of her life and the
mainspring of her actions, and, save her father and her one friend
Radna, she stood aloof from mankind and its loves and friendships,
rather the beautiful incarnation of an abstract principle than a
woman, to whom love and motherhood were the highest aims of
existence.

More than this, she was the daughter of a Jew, and therefore held
herself absolutely at her father's disposal as far as marriage was
concerned, and if he had given her in wedlock even to a Russian
official, telling her that the Cause demanded the sacrifice, she
would have obeyed, though her heart had broken in the same hour.

Although he had never hinted directly at such a thing, the conviction
had been growing upon her for the last two or three years that Natas
really intended her to marry Tremayne, and so, in the case of his own
death, form a bond that should hold him to the Brotherhood when the
chain of his own control was snapped. Though she instinctively shrank
from such a union of mere policy, she would enter it without
hesitation at her father's bidding, and for the sake of the Cause to
which her life was devoted.

How great such a sacrifice would be, should it ever be asked of her,
no one but herself could ever know, for she was perfectly well aware
that in Tremayne's strange double life there were two loves, one of