The girl resumed her normal attitude with an added disquiet.
Elfride's emotion was cumulative, and after a while would assert itself on a sudden.

A slight touch was enough to set it free--a poem, a sunset, a cunningly contrived chord of music, a vague imagining, being the usual accidents of its exhibition.

The longing for Knight's respect, which was leading up to an incipient yearning for his love, made the present conjuncture a sufficient one.

Whilst kneeling down previous to leaving, when the sunny streaks had gone upward to the roof, and the lower part of the church was in soft shadow, she could not help thinking of Coleridge's morbid poem 'The Three Graves,' and shuddering as she wondered if Mrs.Jethway were cursing her, she wept as if her heart would break.
They came out of church just as the sun went down, leaving the landscape like a platform from which an eloquent speaker has retired, and nothing remains for the audience to do but to rise and go home.

Mr.and Mrs.
Swancourt went off in the carriage, Knight and Elfride preferring to walk, as the skilful old matchmaker had imagined.