“You said I might have your pistols,” quoth Bess, suddenly.
“I will give you them.”
“I was not made to serve. We are wild folk in the forest. I can take care of myself.”
Then, catching the look in Jeffray’s eyes, she smiled at him very dearly, and touched his hand.
“But—I shall remember,” she added.
“And I, Bess, also.”
“I will have the pistols—”
“A strange present!”
“No, no, they will make me feel somehow that you are near. For I dreamed of you on St. Agnes’s Eve.”
She blushed and hung her head as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Jeffray had started, and reddened also. He looked at Bess and then at the heath showing gold beyond the trees.