Presently he heard footsteps, and through the leafage of a tree that shadowed him he saw Jane looking this way and that, as if she sought some one.

Her dress was a light calico, and she held in her hand a rough garden hat, the property of Miss Pammenter.

Sidney regarded her for some moments, then called her by name.

She could not see him at first, and looked about anxiously.

He moved a branch of the tree and again called her; whereupon she ran forward.
'I thought perhaps you'd gone up the hill,' she said, resting her arms on the wall by which he was standing.
Then they kept silence, enjoying the sweetness of the hour.
Differently, it is true; for Kirkwood's natural sensitiveness had been developed and refined by studies of which Jane had no conception.
Imperfect as his instruction remained, the sources of spiritual enjoyment were open to him, and with all his feeling there blended that reflective bitterness which is the sad privilege of such as he.