Pausing just beside this bridge, Mr. Fenton heard the joyous barking of a
dog, and caught a brief glimpse of a light muslin dress flitting across
the little lawn at one side of the cottage While he was wondering about
the owner of this dress, the noisy dog came rushing towards the gate, and
in the next moment a girlish figure appeared in the winding path that
went in and out among the flower-beds.
Gilbert Fenton knew that tall slim figure very well. He had guessed
rightly, and this low white-walled cottage was really Captain
Sedgewick's. It seemed to him as if a kind of instinct brought him to
that precise spot.
Miss Nowell came to the gate, and stood there looking out, with a Skye
terrier in her arms. Gilbert drew back a little, and flung his cigar into
the brook. She had not seen him yet. Her looks were wandering far away
across the green, as if in search of some one.
Gilbert Fenton stood quite still watching her. She looked even prettier
without her bonnet than she had looked in the church, he thought: the
rich dark-brown hair gathered in a great knot at the back of the graceful
head; the perfect throat circled by a broad black ribbon, from which
there hung an old-fashioned gold cross; the youthful figure set-off by
the girlish muslin dress, so becoming in its utter simplicity.
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