I held myself ready to make a gesture as soon as she should look, and she looked in every possible direction but the one.

She was interested in the vilest tuft of chickweed, she gazed at the summit of the mountain, she came even immediately below me and conversed on the most fastidious topics with the gardener; but to the top of that wall she would not dedicate a glance! At last she began to retrace her steps in the direction of the cottage; whereupon, becoming quite desperate, I broke off a piece of plaster, took a happy aim, and hit her with it in the nape of the neck.

She clapped her hand to the place, turned about, looked on all sides for an explanation, and spying me (as indeed I was parting the branches to make it the more easy), half uttered and half swallowed down again a cry of surprise.
The infernal gardener was erect upon the instant.

'What's your wull, miss ?' said he.
Her readiness amazed me.

She had already turned and was gazing in the opposite direction.