I wanted air, movement.

The closeness of my rooms had become unbearable.

As soon as the lamps were lit in the street, I started out and I went--toward the cemetery.
I had no motive in choosing this direction for my walk.

The road was an open one, and I should neither avoid people nor escape the chilly blast blowing directly in my face from the northeast.

Whim, or shall I not say, true feeling, carried me there though I was quite conscious, all the time, of a strong desire to see Ella Fulton and learn from her the condition of affairs--whether she was at peace, or in utter disgrace, with her parents.
It was a cold night, as I have said, and there were but few people in the streets.