All these imaginations were absolutely real to Dale, an approximate
conception of the truth which he could not doubt; and he thought:
"Need I wonder if I have not had the slightest glimpse of His face? It
is my doom. Christ is cut off from me. So far as human time counts,
the communication was broken that afternoon when I was seeming to see
him as he rode into Jerusalem and my hankerings after Norah seemed to
snap the thread.
"I was judged at that moment. It was my doom--never more, here or
there, to look upon His face."
XXXV
It was the evening of another day; and Dale stood motionless in the
ride, close to Kibworth Rocks.
The twilight was fading rapidly; clouds that had crept up from the
east filled the sky, and presaged a dark and probably a stormy night.
Every now and then a gust of angry wind shook the tops of the fir
trees; then the air was still and heavy again, and then the wind came
back a little fiercer than before. Dale felt sure that there would be
rain presently, and he thought: "If his ghost is really lying in
there, it'll get as wet as that first night when the showers washed
away all the blood."
He stared and listened, but to-night he could not fancy that he heard
the dead man calling to him.
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