"And yet it seems so heartless for one to be going back to idleness,"
Natalie Lind said, absently. "Papa works as hard in England as anywhere
else; but what can I do? To think of one going back to peaceful days,
and comfort, and pleasant friends, when others have to go through such
misery, and to fight against such persecution! When Vjera Sassulitch
offered me her hand--"

She stopped abruptly, with a quick, frightened look, first at George
Brand, then at her father.

"You need not hesitate, Natalie," her father said, calmly. "Mr. Brand
has given me his word of honor he will reveal nothing he may hear from
us."

"I do not think you need be afraid," said Brand; but all the same he was
conscious of a keen pang of mortification. He, too, had noticed that
quick look of fright and distrust. What did it mean, then? "_You are
beside us, you are near to us; but you are not of us, you are not with
us._"

He was silent, and she was silent too. She seemed ashamed of her
indiscretion, and would say nothing further about Vjera Sassulitch.

"Don't imagine, Mr. Brand," said her father, to break this awkward
silence, "that what Natalie says is true. She is not going to be so idle
as all that. No; she has plenty of hard work before her--at least, I
think it hard work--translating from the German into Polish."

"I wish I could help," Brand said, in a low voice. "I do not know a word
of Polish."