He fancied that he could see the girl's winsome face lighted with merriment as she played, knowing his surprise.

Once, he started impulsively toward the door, but paused, hesitating, and turned back.

When the music ceased, he went to the open window that looked out into the rose garden, and watched expectantly.
Presently, he heard her low-voiced song as she came through the orange grove beyond the Ragged Robin hedge.

Then he glimpsed her white dress at the little gate in the corner.

Then she stood in full view.
The artist had, so far, seen Sibyl only in her mountain costume of soft brown,--made for rough contact with rocks and underbrush,--with felt hat to match, and high, laced boots, fit for climbing.