She had not seen him yet.

Her looks were wandering far away across the green, as if in search of some one.
Gilbert Fenton stood quite still watching her.

She looked even prettier without her bonnet than she had looked in the church, he thought: the rich dark-brown hair gathered in a great knot at the back of the graceful head; the perfect throat circled by a broad black ribbon, from which there hung an old-fashioned gold cross; the youthful figure set-off by the girlish muslin dress, so becoming in its utter simplicity.
He could not stand there for ever looking at her, pleasant as it might be to him to contemplate the lovely face; so he made a little movement at last, and came a few steps nearer to the gate.
"Good-evening once more, Miss Nowell," he said.
She looked up at him, surprised by his sudden appearance, but in no manner embarrassed.
"Good-evening, Mr.Fenton.I did not see you till this moment.

I was looking for my uncle.

He has gone out for a little stroll while he smokes his cigar, and I expect him home every minute." "I have been indulging in a solitary cigar myself," answered Gilbert.
"One is apt to be inspired with an antipathy to the house on this kind of evening.