But
from his shelter under the boughs he could see her very well,
when, in response to his signal, she opened the window and the
light fell upon her face. The languid largeness of her eyes
showed that her sleep had been little more than his own, and the
pinkness of their lids, that her waking hours had not been free
from tears.
She read the writing, seemed, he thought, disappointed, but took
up the materials he had provided, evidently thinking him some way
off. Giles waited on, assured that a girl who, in spite of her
culture, knew what country life was, would find no difficulty in
the simple preparation of their food.
Within the cot it was all very much as he conjectured, though
Grace had slept much longer than he. After the loneliness of the
night, she would have been glad to see him; but appreciating his
feeling when she read the writing, she made no attempt to recall
him. She found abundance of provisions laid in, his plan being to
replenish his buttery weekly, and this being the day after the
victualling van had called from Sherton.
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