communication was broken that afternoon when I was seeming to see
him as he rode into Jerusalem and my hankerings after Norah seemed to
snap the thread.

"I was judged at that moment. It was my doom--never more, here or
there, to look upon His face."

XXXV

It was the evening of another day; and Dale stood motionless in the
ride, close to Kibworth Rocks.

The twilight was fading rapidly; clouds that had crept up from the
east filled the sky, and presaged a dark and probably a stormy night.
Every now and then a gust of angry wind shook the tops of the fir
trees; then the air was still and heavy again, and then the wind came
back a little fiercer than before. Dale felt sure that there would be
rain presently, and he thought: "If his ghost is really lying in
there, it'll get as wet as that first night when the showers washed
away all the blood."

He stared and listened, but to-night he could not fancy that he heard
the dead man calling to him. He could not invent any appropriate
conversation. It seemed to him that the ugly phantom was refusing to
talk, that it had become sulky, or that it was pretending not to be
there at all in order to effect a most insidious purpose. Yes, that
must be the explanation. It wanted to entice and lure him off the
ride--to make him venture right in there among the rocks, so that he
might be shown the thing that had haunted him in dreams.

"Very well," said Dale, "so be it. That's the idea. All right. I
agree."

He did not, however, move for another minute or so. He was thinking
hard, and listening eagerly. But he could hear no sound, could
imagine no sound, other than that made by the wind.

Then he moved, and, examining the ground, made his way slowly from the
ride to the rocks, thinking the while, "It's impossible to follow my
exact footsteps, because things have changed--but this was about the
line I took with him."

Forcing himself through a tangle of holly and hawthorn, he came out
into the open space and his feet struck against stone. In front of him
the rocks rose darkly against the waning light, and he began to
clamber about among them, over smooth round surfaces, along narrow
gullies, and by cruel jagged ridges, seeking to find the exact spot
where he had left the dead body. "It was about here," he said, after a
time. "It was close by here. Prob'bly down there, where the foxgloves
and the blackberries have taken root. Anyhow, that's near enough. I've
come as nea