She divined by instinct why De Burgh was at Mrs. Needham’s.  She knew, how she could not tell, that he was seeking Katherine as eagerly as he had sought herself; but with what a different object!  The sight of De Burgh was as the thrust of a poisoned dagger through the delicate veins and articulations of her moral system.  To see the dark face and sombre eyes she had loved so passionately—­had!—­still loved!—­was almost physical agony.  It was as if some beloved form had been brought back from another world, but animated by a spirit that knew her not, regarded her not at all.  Oh, the bitterness of such an estrangement, of this expulsion from the paradise of warmth and tenderness where she had been cherished for a while—­a heavenly place which should know her no more.

“I brought it all upon myself,” was the sentence of her strong stern sense.  “Losing self-respect, what hold can any woman have upon a lover?—­yet how many men are faithful even to death without the legal tie!  I do not love him now, but how fondly, how intensely I loved the man I thought he was!  Oh, fool, fool, fool, to believe that I could ever tighten my hold upon a man who had gained all he wished unconditionally!  I have deserved all—­all.”

Yet she had no hatred against the real De Burgh, neither had she any angelic desire to forgive him, or to do him good or convert him; what he was now, he would ever be.  He might even make a fairly good husband.  The episode of his connection with herself would in no way interfere with his moral harmony.  But he was not worthy of Katherine; no unbreakable tie would make him more constant; and, though his faithlessness could not touch her social position, he might crush her heart all the same.  Rachel was far too human, too passionate, not to shrink with unutterable pain from the idea of this man’s entrancing love being lavished on another, yet her true, devoted affection for her benefactress remained untouched.  Katherine stood before everything.  Rachel did not wish to injure De Burgh—­her heart had simply grown strong, and she would not hesitate for a moment to save Katherine from trouble at any cost to him.

What then should she do?—­continue to withhold the name of the man of whom she had so often spoken, or let Katherine know the whole truth and judge for herself?  If she decided on the latter, it would break up her friendship with Katherine, and De Burgh would attribute her action to revenge.  Should that deter her?  No; so long as she was sure of herself, what were opinions to her?  The one thing in life to which she clung now was Katherine’s affection and esteem; for her she would sacrifice much, but she would not flatter her into a fool’s paradise of trust and wedded love with De Burgh by concealing anything, neither would she counsel her against the desperate experiment, should she be inclined to risk it.  He might be a very different man to a wife.

A certain amount of composure came to her with decision, though a second death seemed to have laid its icy hand upon her heart; she rose and made her way towards her own abode, determining to await a visit or some communication from Katherine before she touched the poisoned tract which lay between them.