Their voices sounded from all parts of the garden and the
farm-yard, Jane's clear-throated laugh contrasting with the rougher
utterance of her companion. After supper, in the falling of the
dusk, Sidney strolled away from the gossiping circle within-doors,
and found a corner of the garden whence there was a view of wooded
hillside against the late glow of the heavens. 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.
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