Sherwood, he entered the garden, where he hoped to
meet Sybil alone. He was not disappointed, for as he walked down the path
through the wilderness of shrubbery he caught sight of her near the
summer-house, stooping down in the act of plucking certain flowers that
grew there.
She, too, was dressed all in white, as he had seen his cousin on the
previous day; but the difference struck him forcibly as he came up and
took her outstretched hand. They had changed places and character, one
could almost have thought. Joe had looked so tired and weary, so "wilted,"
as they say in Boston, that it had shocked Ronald to see her. Sybil, who
had formerly been so pale and cold, now was the very incarnation of life;
delicate and exquisitely fine in every movement and expression, but most
thoroughly alive. The fresh soft color seemed to float beneath the
transparent skin, and her deep eyes were full of light and laughter and
sunshine. Ronald's heart leaped in his breast for love and pride as she
greeted him, and his brow turned hot and his hands cold in the confusion
of his happiness.
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