The trees that stood upon either bank cast a lacework of shadow upon the carpet of moss and violets beneath them.
The buds of the maples were red.

On a tree near them a couple of male canaries, bright gold in the spring season, were hopping and piping; then startled, they flew off in a straight line over the river to the other shore.
'See them,' said Gilby; 'they look like streaks of yellow light!' 'I see,' said Zilda, and she did see for the first time.
Now Gilby had a certain capacity for rejoicing in the beauties of nature; it was overlaid with huge conceit in his own taste and discernment and a love of forcing his observations on other people, but the flaws in his character Zilda was not in a position to see.

The good in him awakened in her a higher virtue than she would otherwise have known; she was unconscious of the rest, just as eyes which can see form and not colour are unconscious of the bad blending of artificial hues.
Presently Zilda rose up.

'I will make monsieur more comfortable,' she said, and she lifted him to a drier place upon the bank.
This was mortifying to little Gilby; his manner was quite huffy for some minutes after.
Zilda had her own ideas of what she would do.

She presently left him alone and walked on swiftly to the place of the breakdown.