She drooped a little towards him, her hands hanging passive, her lips growing full and tender again, her eyes losing all their thick and sullen thoughtfulness.
“I have been very miserable. I had one joy left to me—”
“Bess.”
“The hope that I might see—see you—again. Yes, every day, every day when I could escape from Dan, I have come down through the woods to Holy Cross.”
Jeffray was standing with his head thrown back, his eyes fixed on Bess’s face. She moved still nearer to him, speaking hurriedly, passionately, as though afraid that he might stay her words.
“Yes, they took me away. I fought, but they were too strong for me. Dan had tried to bring me to shame, and I had run away—to you—to save me. And then, and then—you can see—you can understand—”
She threw up her arm with a great catching of her breath and covered her face. Jeffray, feeling like a man who has drunk of the wine of the immortals, held out both his hands to her with a hoarse cry.
“Bess. Listen to me. Before God—I want to help you.”
She rocked to and fro a moment, then dropped her arm, and looked at him with an almost childish trust.
“I must see you again, see you—soon.”