She had started back from Jeffray with all the soft, glamourish light gone from her face, her eyes growing hard and fierce under her black brows. With a significant gesture she turned and climbed into one of the ruined windows, and, parting the ivy that hung in masses about the jambs, looked out over the grass-land towards the abbey pools. A man was standing under a willow with his back towards the ruins. He was busy recharging his gun, and watching his spaniel that was swimming out to recover the bird that had fallen into the water. Bess watched him a moment with her eyes sullen and full of hatred. Surely some devil must have persuaded the unconscious Dan to trudge down to the abbey ponds that evening. Springing down again, she ran back to Jeffray, her red petticoat swinging about her slim, strong ankles. “It is Dan,” she said, in a whisper, looking hard at Richard. “Confound the fellow!” Bess’s eyes gleamed sympathetically. “You must go, Mr. Jeffray.” “Go?” “If Dan found you with me—” Richard’s smooth face grew wondrous grim for the moment. “I am not afraid of your cousin, Bess,” he said. “Ah, you do not know Dan; he has the temper of a devil.” Richard was looking at her very earnestly. “Perhaps you are right, Bess,” he answered. “There is no reason why we should betray our trysting-place to him. What shall you do?” “Oh, I can hide and wait till Dan has gone. He will never suspect that I am here. And when—” She hesitated, and swayed nearer to Richard as they walked towards his horse. “When?” he echoed. “Shall we meet here again?” “Thursday.” “Three days!” “It cannot be before.” She smiled mysteriously and looked at Richard with the same alluring light shining in her eyes. How red and mischievous her lips looked! Jeffray conceived a great thirst for them, but hung back as though his honor shackled him. They were both a little shy of each other, looking long into each other’s eyes and breathing rapidly. Then they heard Dan’s voice calling to his dog, and Jeffray, mounting his horse, smiled at the girl and rode out from the ruins. Bess stood watching him with her bosom rising and falling and her face aglow. Richard overtook Dan Grimshaw at the ford, and gave him “good-day” as he splashed through the water. The forester’s ugly face clouded as he recognized Jeffray. He touched his fur cap surlily, and appeared puzzled to know what business the Squire of Rodenham had in Pevensel. Jeffray, gathering that Bess was safe, pricked up his horse and took the path through the woods. XVIII Shakespeare’s Romeo lost his reason in a night, and, however illogical the intoxications of youth may seem, they are of finer gold than the cold-tempered alloys of age.