She heard a foot-fall crushing dead leaves behind her, and found herself reconnoitered by Fitzpiers himself, approaching gay and fresh as the morning around them.
His remote gaze at her had been one of mild interest rather than of rapture.

But she looked so lovely in the green world about her, her pink cheeks, her simple light dress, and the delicate flexibility of her movement acquired such rarity from their wild-wood setting, that his eyes kindled as he drew near.
"My darling, what is it?
Your father says you are in the pouts, and jealous, and I don't know what.

Ha! ha! ha! as if there were any rival to you, except vegetable nature, in this home of recluses! We know better." "Jealous; oh no, it is not so," said she, gravely.

"That's a mistake of his and yours, sir.

I spoke to him so closely about the question of marriage with you that he did not apprehend my state of mind." "But there's something wrong--eh ?" he asked, eying her narrowly, and bending to kiss her.