He sprang to his feet as a group of three people came out from a winding path among the trees.

For a moment or two a wholly absurd and illogical impulse almost impelled him to bolt.
He knew it was quite unreasonable, especially as he had thought of the girl every day since he had last seen her; but he remembered that she was a rich man's daughter and he a wandering packer of no account, with an apparently unrealizable project in his mind, and in his pocket no more money than would last a week.

While he hesitated, she saw him.
He stood perfectly still, perhaps a little straighter than was absolutely necessary, and not looking directly toward her.

If she preferred to go by without noticing him, he meant to afford her the opportunity.
She turned toward her father and said something that Weston could not hear, but he felt his heart beat almost unpleasantly fast when, a moment later, she moved on quietly straight toward him.

She looked what she was, a lady of station, and her companion's attire suggested the same thing, while, though Weston now wore city clothes, he was morbidly afraid that the stamp of defeat and failure was upon him.
Much as he had longed for her it would almost have been a relief to him if she had passed.