What would happen afterward would depend upon the shape that things took in his new home.
He found Rachel sitting on the piazza.

Though dressed in the deepest and plainest black she had never looked so surpassingly beautiful.

As is usually the case with young women of her type of beauty, grief had toned down the rich coloring that had at times seemed almost too exuberant into that delicate shell-like tint which is the perfection of nature's painting.

Her round white arms shone like Juno's, as the outlines were revealed by the graceful motions which threw back the wide sleeves.
Her wealth of silken black hair was drawn smoothly back from her white forehead, over her shapely head, and gathered into a simple knot behind.
Save a black brooch at her throat, she wore no ornaments--not even a plain ring.
She rose as Harry came upon the piazza, and for a moment her face was rigid with intensity of feeling.

This evidence of emotion went as quickly as it came, however, and she extended her hand with calm dignity, saying simply: "You have returned, Mr.Glen." In his anxiety to so play the impassioned lover as to conceal the recreancy he had fostered in his own heart, Harry did not notice the coolness of this greeting.