And how strange was this tale of hers, of a dream
that she had dreamed, a dream which, to save his own, led her to offer
her life to the murderer's arrow. Many would not believe it, but he felt
that it was true; he felt that even if she wished it she could not lie
to him, for as he had known since first they met, their souls were
open to each other. Yes, having thus been warned of his danger, she
had offered her life for him--for him who that morning had called her,
unjustly so Metem said, "a girl of the groves and a murderess." How came
it that she had done this, unless indeed she loved him as--he loved her?
Aziel could no longer palter with himself, it was the truth. Last night
when Issachar accused him, he had felt this, although then he would not
admit it altogether, and now to-night he knew that his fate had found
him. They would say that, after the common fashion of men, he had been
conquered by a lovely face and form and a brave deed of devotion. But it
was not so. Something beyond the flesh and its works and attributes drew
him towards this woman, something that he could neither understand nor
define (unless, indeed, the vision of Issachar defined it), but of which
he had been conscious since first he set eyes upon her face. It was
possible, it was even probable, that before another hour had gone by she
would have passed beyond his reach, into the deeps of death, whither for
a while he could not follow her.
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