Bess was sitting on a rock beside the pool, combing her hair with her fingers as it hung in a black mass over her shoulders. She looked up as Jeffray came splashing through the water, recognized him instantly, and flushed red as a poppy. A peculiar light kindled in her keen, blue eyes, softening their hardness, and making her face seem less petulant and heavy. Jeffray dismounted and advanced towards her, leading his horse by the bridle. Bess had risen and came some paces to meet him, making no pretence to conceal her pleasure. “Bess, I am glad I happened to take the track by the abbey.” “I am glad, also, Mr. Jeffray.” They looked at each other and smiled, instant sympathy flashing from face to face. Bess looked very handsome with her black hair about her, and Jeffray could not refrain from confessing the truth instinctively to himself. Never in all Italy had he seen such coloring, such eyes, or so fine a figure. To be sure her hands were a little red and rough, but they were prettily made, and suited her simple and brightly colored clothes. “I have been wishing to see you,” said the girl, beginning to bind up her black hair and watching Jeffray all the while. “To see me, Bess?” “They seem long days since I nursed you in our cottage.” Richard, good youth, experienced secret pleasure at the confession. The girl’s voice, deep, rich, and slightly husky, contrasted strangely with Miss Jilian’s prattle. She spoke slowly, as though with an inward effort, trying to temper her words to Jeffray’s superior culture. It was done without affectation, however, and her quaint, slow way of mouthing her words had an irresistible charm in it that made Jeffray delight in hearing her speak. “You have been bathing, Bess?” She laughed, blushed a little, and began to coil up her hair over the curve of her long, brown neck. “You might have caught me, Mr. Jeffray.” This time Richard colored. “How are they treating you in Pevensel?” he made haste to ask. “Treating me?” “Yes.” “I am glad of your pistols.” Her expression changed suddenly from frankness to rebellion. Jeffray, who was studying her with a secret sense of delight, marked the hardening of her red mouth, the gleam in her fierce, far-sighted eyes. He had forgotten Miss Jilian completely for the moment, and the delicate and highly civilized sentiments that had made him throw his liberty at her feet. “Tell me what your trouble is,” he asked her. “They are for marrying me to Dan.” “What!” “They tried to force me into it. Mother Ursula was with them till Dan tried his bullying, and then she held him and his father off.” The expression on Richard’s amiable face contradicted its habitual shinings towards sweetness. “But, Bess, old Grimshaw promised me—” “He’s as bad as Dan,” she said, with a snarl. “I hate—hate them both.” “They can’t marry you against your will.” “Not while I have the pistols.”