_ He had stumbled callously through one day
after another of these weeks in which he had not seen Rachel towards his
next meeting with her, as a half-blind man stumbles towards the light.
But the presence of Rachel afforded no clew to the labyrinth. What vain
hope was this that he had cherished unconsciously that she could help
him. There was no help for him. There was no way out. He was in a trap.
He must die, and soon, by his own hand. Incredible, preposterous fate!
He shuddered, and looked around him involuntarily.

His glance, reverent, full of timid longing, fell on Rachel, and his
heart cried aloud, suddenly, "If she loves me, I shall not be able to
leave her."

CHAPTER XXV

Look in my face! my name is Might-have-been;
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.
--DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

It was Sunday afternoon. Mr. Tristram leaned on the stone balustrade
that bounded the long terrace at Wilderleigh. He was watching two
distant figures, followed by a black dot, stroll away across the park.
One of them seemed to drag himself unwillingly. Mr. Tristram
congratulated himself on the acumen which had led him to keep himself
concealed until Doll and Hugh had started for Beaumere.

Sybell had announced at luncheon, in the tone of one who observes a
religious rite, that she should rest till four o'clock, and would be
ready to sit for the portrait of her upper lip at that hour.

It was only half-past two now. Mr. Tristram had planted himself exactly
in front of Rachel's windows, with his back to the house. "She will keep
me waiting, but she will come out in time," he said to himself, nervous
and self-confident by turns, resting his head rather gracefully on his
hand. His knowledge of womankind supported him like a life-belt, but it
has been said that life-belts occasionally support their wearers
upsidedown. Theories have been known to exhibit the same spiteful
tendency towards those who place their trust in them.

"Of course, she has got to show me that she is offended with me," he
reflected, gazing steadily at the Welsh hills. "She would not have come
out if I had asked her, but she will certainly come as I did not. I will
give her half an hour."

Rachel, meanwhile, was looking fixedly at Mr. Tristram from her bedroom
window with that dispassionate scrutiny to avoid which the vainest would
do well to take refuge in noisome caves.

"I wonder," she said to herself