"I could die—die happily—for him," she murmured softly.
"Fools sometimes die for utter strangers," remarked Hora sardonically. "That's not love. Could you live for him, could you give yourself to another for his welfare, could you——"
"Not that, no, not that!" The cry was wrung from her lips. "You would not condemn me to that, Commandatore?"
"Hush, Myra," he said. "I was merely speaking of possibilities which might arise in the future."
"I thought," she faltered, "that some scheme had crossed your brain, which would necessitate—I could not do it now."
"I have thought of no scheme," he replied reassuringly, "which would wither this new flower which has blossomed in your heart."
"You are mocking again," she remarked.
"I am speaking seriously," he retorted, "of possibilities which might occur. Guy's mate must be prepared for anything—for everything. You must remember that I am not to be turned aside from the object I have in view. Nor is Guy to be turned aside either. His will is as inflexible as mine. The woman who mates with him must be at one with him in his purpose, and, if need be, must be ready to sacrifice herself. Tell me now, Myra, if you can do that, or must I find a mate for him who will?"
She did not hesitate a moment. The blood rushed to her face. "For Guy I would do anything," she cried. "All that I ask is to be near him to help him to——"
"To weaken him with your woman fears," Hora interpolated.