"I came up meaning to warn you. I was afraid for you. I saw you standing by the tree, and I was running toward you, and all of a sudden I saw him, and the pistol, and——"
She paused and drooped her head. Dale pressed her hand and said:
"Well, Nellie?"
"I was afraid," she said, "and I turned and began to run away, and as I was running, it hit me." And, her confession ended, she sank into a little woebegone heap on the floor at his feet.
Dale understood now. She had been tempted by the hope of winning his love through his gratitude, and had not refused the false glory they all thrust upon her. Now she had heard her hopes were vain, that they had been vain even before that night, and in the misery of sin, and useless sin, she lay crying at his feet, not daring to look up at him.
He stood there awkwardly, as a man stands when he feels more moved than he allows himself to show.
"Poor child!" he said, with a break in his voice. "Poor child!"
Janet caught him by the arm.
"What does she say? That she didn't save you?" she whispered eagerly. "That she was running away?"
Dale nodded, and Janet fell down beside Nellie, embracing her, and saying, half laughing, half crying: "O Nellie, how sweet, how sweet of you to have been a coward too!"