As they crossed White Hind walk, Jeffray drew in Bess’s horse very close to him, stretched out his hand and touched her arm. “You are not unhappy, child?” he asked. She hesitated a moment. “No, no, not unhappy.” “You are thinking of Dan?” “Yes.” “Why should you pity him?” “Ah, he was pointing his pistol at you—” “It was for my sake, Bess, I know, I know.” He looked at her thoughtfully and half sadly as though realizing how much she had dared to save his life. It was a grim thing for a woman to have blood upon her conscience, and that too—the blood of her own husband. His tenderness deepened immeasurably towards Bess. The guilt, whatever guilt there was, was his—not hers. “There may still be danger for us,” he said, gravely. Bess looked at him as though all terror would melt away before the calm strength upon his face. “Is Isaac alive?” she asked, putting her hair back from her forehead. “I do not know,” he answered. “If he should guess!” “No one shall ever know that you fired the shot that killed your husband.” Bess questioned him with her eyes. “Should the law ever snatch at us,” he continued, “I shall swear that it was I who shot Dan Grimshaw.” “You would swear that?” she asked, her whole face aglow. “I would.” “Ah—I should love you better than to suffer that.” They rode on awhile in silence under the trees, the dark figures of the troopers moving vaguely before them, the stars above like silver bosses set in the vaultings of the forest. Often their eyes met; the girl’s white face seemed to shine with an inward light through the darkness of the woods. “Bess,” said the man, at last. She watched him—and waited. “Let us leave this riddle to rot in Pevensel. What do I care whether you are of the Grimshaw blood or no!” She held out her hands to him with a great sigh. “Take me away from it all,” she said. “I want you—and nothing more.” A young moon was showing its silver crescent above the trees when Bess and Jeffray came out upon the heath. The two troopers and the guide were waiting for them, their figures showing dimly against the sky-line. Jeffray hailed the men, assured them that he had no further need of an escort, and, giving them a couple of guineas apiece, advised them to ride back and rejoin their troop. The fellows pocketed the money, and wished Jeffray a very good-evening. There might be spoil to be had at the hamlet in Pevensel, rooms to be rifled, hidden money to be unearthed. They turned back with the guide into the woods, leaving Bess and her man to ride on to Rodenham alone. XLIV