"
When he reached a dense tract of woodland through which the road
ran, he concealed himself and waited till she should pass. Two
hours elapsed before she did so. The passionate grief that had
overwhelmed her was no slight and passing gust. He saw that she
leaned back weakly and languidly in the phaeton, and had hidden her
face by a vail of double thickness. He followed her at a distance
far too great for recognition until she entered the hotel, and
then sought to obtain a little rest and food at the nearest village
inn; for he found now that his fierce paroxysm of rage and mental
torment was over, he had become very faint and exhausted. After
he had regained somewhat the power to think and act, he turned his
steps towards a narrow, secluded ravine, about a mile from the hotel,
knowing that here he would find the deepest solitude in which to
grow calm and prepare himself for the quiet self-sacrifice of which
Ida had given the example, and which no eye must be able to detect
save his to whom the secrets of all hearts are open.
He made no effort to follow any path, but sprang carelessly and
rapidly down the steep hillside. When he had almost reached the
bottom of the ravine, his foot slipped on a rock half hidden by
leaves, and he fell and rolled helplessly down.
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