"You sit in th' saddle, ma'am; I'll walk an' lead Abe. You're ... you're not scared now?"
"A little,"—breathing deeply as he helped her, and, laughing in a strained tone. "I'll ... I'll be frightened later I expect, but I'm not now ... much ... It's you, you keep me from it," she said. "I'm not frightened with you."
"I tried to keep things so you won't have to be, ma'am."
Probably because she was weak, perhaps wholly because of the hot yearning that contact with him had roused in her, Ann swayed down toward him. It was as though she would fall into his arms, as though she herself would stir his repressed desire for her until it overcame his own judgment, and yield to his will there in the brilliant afternoon; as though she were going to him, then, for all time, regardless of everything, caring only for the instant that her lips should be on his. He started forward, flung up one arm as though to catch her; then drew back.
"Don't, ma'am," he begged. "Don't! For the sake ... for your sake, don't."
The woman swallowed and straightened her back as though just coming to the complete realization of what had happened.
"Forgive me," she whispered.
They had not heard Nora riding down to them, so great was their absorption in one another, but at that moment when Ann's head drooped and Bayard's shoulders flexed as from a great fatigue the waitress halted her horse beside them.
"God! I didn't think...."
She had looked at them with the fear that had struck her as she watched the last phase of their descent still gripping her. But in their faces she read that which they both struggled to hide from one another and the light that had been in her eyes went out. She turned her face away from them, looking out at the long afternoon shadows.