The woman's eyes were yearning. A great struggle looked out of their grey depths into the passion-lit eyes of the man. The hope, oh, the hope of it all! But the price was the price of all that a woman looks forward to in life.
"Do you swear to me that my father shall be saved?" she demanded, in a low tone which thrilled to jubilance every sense in the man's body.
He flung out his arms.
"He shall leave this country with you. The fulfillment of your solemn word shall not be required of you till you are both safe across the water. If we fail—then you have sacrificed nothing. Can I say fairer? Can you doubt my honesty of purpose after that? Ach! it maddens me with alarm and impatience to see you hesitate. For you it is safety—life. For me I risk all—everything—for a wife who has no love to give me. If I fail your present lot is nothing to what mine will be. If I hate Von Berger he has no love for me, and—he is not human."
But still Vita hesitated. It was not that she doubted this man, though she knew she had little enough reason to trust him. It was the love for the man of her choice holding and claiming her. She strove to set it aside. She tried to apply reason. But it would not be denied, and it elbowed reason at every turn.
What was life without this love of hers? No, it was nothing. Would it matter if death came upon her and left her cold? No. It would even be preferable to the life of terrible regret which Von Salzinger offered her. Her father—she caught her breath. It was the one thought which her love could not thrust aside. It was in her power to save him—if she would.
The struggle went on. It shone in her eyes, it was displayed in the panting rise and fall of her bosom. The appeal of it was too great. To leave him to his fate would be the vilest selfishness. This man had promised that he should leave the country with them—before she became his wife.
She looked up. A burning excitement shone in her eyes.
"Can you communicate with my father?" she asked.
The man shook his head.