Olivia by Charles Garvice

The dawn crept through the window and found Harold Faradeane still pacing to and fro. Later the morning grew rosy and bright and soft with the breath of early summer, and, as he rode up the lane, the rays of sunlight pierced the intervals of the pines, and fell slantwise upon his handsome face and short, wavy hair. It was a morning when one is tempted to join in the concert of the birds; but there was no sign of lightness of heart in the pale face, and a shadow as of coming pain was on the dark eyes.

He rode up to the Grange gates, and was passing through when he saw a slim, girlish form, closely wrapped in a Shetland shawl, half sitting, half lying on the rustic seat beside the lodge porch. It was Bessie. At sight of him a delicate rose tint suffused her face, and a swift change, as if one of the rays of sunlight had touched them, flew into her eyes.