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 Oh! that I could have read in Neit-akrit's heart and known what she would do! How far and in what way did she care for Hugh? The alternatives seemed to me equally hopeless. If she had no love for him then, no doubt, ambition would seal her lips: she would remember the throne of Kamt, the glorious double crown, the homage of the people, and in the pomp and glitter forget the awful doom which alone could drive the usurping stranger from her path. But if she loved him, then what …? then the great and subtle puzzle of the eternally feminine, the mysterious workings of a woman's heart, of a woman who, in spite of the high culture, the civilisation, the artistic refinement of this land, was pre-eminently exotic, passionate, semi-barbarous in her love and her hate. Nay! I knew not. How could I guess how she would act? Can man read the uncut pages of that romance of which a woman only shows him the title leaf?

But, in the meanwhile, the dangers round my friend seemed to close in tightly. Ur-tasen with subtle cunning had worked upon the loves, the jealousies of the two women who alone could save him, while I was still a caged prisoner, and the hours were swiftly speeding on.

Neit-akrit had disappeared, and Ur-tasen alone remained, quietly standing before the altar of the goddess, with arms outstretched, murmuring one of his pagan prayers, but as I still continued my weary watch, it seemed to me that newly awakened though still hidden life began to pervade the great and mystic temple. Within the main aisle the hanging lamps were lighted one after the other by—to me—unseen hands, and in the distance fresh young voices were rehearsing a bridal chant. Behind me in the outer precincts I could hear the muffled sounds of shuffling footsteps