There was no sign of his coming.

And so the eyelids, weary with vain expectation, drooped heavily over the dimming eyes.

But she had not stirred, nor shown a sign of feeling.
A little while she sat with her long lashes shading her pale cheeks; then she slowly raised them and looked out toward the river again.
What a quick start she gave! Did her eyes deceive her?
No, it was Hartley, just in the spot she had looked to see him only a minute or two before.

But how slowly he moved, and with what a weary step! and, even at this long distance, his face looked white against the wavy masses of his dark-brown hair.
Irene started up with an exclamation, stood as if in doubt for a moment, then, springing from the portico, she went flying to meet him, as swiftly as if moving on winged feet.

All the forces of her ardent, impulsive nature were bearing her forward.