Jane listened with quiet
interest. She did not say much herself, and when she did speak it
was with a noticeable effort to overcome her habit of diffidence.
She was happy, but her nature had yet to develop itself under these
strangely novel conditions.
A little before sunset there came a knocking at the house-door. Jane
went down to open, and found that the visitor was Sidney Kirkwood.
The joyful look with which she recognised him changed almost in the
same moment; his face wore an expression that alarmed her; it was
stern, hard-set in trouble, and his smile could not disguise the
truth. Without speaking, he walked upstairs and entered Snowdon's
room. To Sidney there was always something peculiarly impressive in
the first view of this quiet chamber; simple as were its
appointments, it produced a sense of remoteness from the common
conditions of life. Invariably he subdued his voice when conversing
here. A few flowers such as can be bought in the street generally
diffused a slight scent through the air, making another peculiarity
which had its effect on Sidney's imagination. When Jane moved about,
it was with a soundless step; if she placed a chair or arranged
things on the table, it was as if with careful avoidance of the
least noise.
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