She wondered whether God really did join them together.
Before she had done deliberating the time of her engagement drew near, and she went out of the house almost at the moment that Tim Tangs retired to his own.
The position of things at that critical juncture was briefly as follows.
Two hundred yards to the right of the upper end of Tangs's garden Fitzpiers was still advancing, having now nearly reached the summit of the wood-clothed ridge, the path being the actual one which further on passed between the two young oaks.

Thus far it was according to Tim's conjecture.

But about two hundred yards to the left, or rather less, was arising a condition which he had not divined, the emergence of Grace as aforesaid from the upper corner of her father's garden, with the view of meeting Tim's intended victim.

Midway between husband and wife was the diabolical trap, silent, open, ready.
Fitzpiers's walk that night had been cheerful, for he was convinced that the slow and gentle method he had adopted was promising success.
The very restraint that he was obliged to exercise upon himself, so as not to kill the delicate bud of returning confidence, fed his flame.
He walked so much more rapidly than Grace that, if they continued advancing as they had begun, he would reach the trap a good half-minute before she could reach the same spot.
But here a new circumstance came in; to escape the unpleasantness of being watched or listened to by lurkers--naturally curious by reason of their strained relations--they had arranged that their meeting for to-night should be at the holm-tree on the ridge above named.

So soon, accordingly, as Fitzpiers reached the tree he stood still to await her.
He had not paused under the prickly foliage more than two minutes when he thought he heard a scream from the other side of the ridge.
Fitzpiers wondered what it could mean; but such wind as there was just now blew in an adverse direction, and his mood was light.