Why, then, was it that she could not put him from her mind? Why was it that she counted the hours until she might next expect to set eyes on him? Why must she be developing an obsession for the one man who seemed quite uninterested in her? Was that the attraction? Would she lose interest in him if he would just show some in her?

She should be wholeheartedly wishing for an attachment between Mr. Gower and Celia. There was much in favor of such an attachment. She loved her friend. She wanted her to be happy. And she would have her close to Oakland if Celia married the vicar. But she could not wish for such a thing, Rachel thought in an agony. She could not.

Rachel's steps slowed. She must not go on. If she did, she would see him on the upper lawn and she might well begin to make a thorough cake of herself. People would begin to notice that she was pursuing the new vicar of her home parish and that he was in no way interested in her. She glanced back down the slope to the distant figures of Algie and Celia, standing with the general and his wife. She could not return to them. Her behavior would seem decidedly peculiar.

There were trees close to her on the right. They looked to be deserted. Perhaps she could lose herself among them for a while until she could feel sure that Algie and Celia had come back up to join the main party. In fact, Rachel thought as she walked far enough into the thicket to be out of sight of those people strolling on the lower lawn, it was an inspired idea. She had not realized just how much she was missing her life in the country and the frequent opportunities for solitude.