She hesitated a moment.
“No, no, not unhappy.”
“You are thinking of Dan?”
“Yes.”
“Why should you pity him?”
“Ah, he was pointing his pistol at you—”
“It was for my sake, Bess, I know, I know.”
He looked at her thoughtfully and half sadly as though realizing how much she had dared to save his life. It was a grim thing for a woman to have blood upon her conscience, and that too—the blood of her own husband. His tenderness deepened immeasurably towards Bess. The guilt, whatever guilt there was, was his—not hers.
“There may still be danger for us,” he said, gravely.
Bess looked at him as though all terror would melt away before the calm strength upon his face.