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.