That night at the inn the landlord told me about you.

Of course he had nothing but praise and admiration for you--who would have any other?
But he told me of the lonely life you led, of the care you took of your father, of your devotion and goodness; and the picture of you living at the great, silent house, without friends or companions--well, it haunted me! I could see it all so plainly--I, who am not usually quick at seeing things.

As a rule, I'm not impressed by women--Howard says I am cold and bored--perhaps he's right; but I could not get you out of my mind.

I felt that I wanted to see you again." He paused again, as if the state of mind he was describing was a puzzle to himself--paused and frowned.
"I left the inn and started up the road--I suppose I wanted to get a glimpse of the house in which you lived.

Yes; that must have been it.
And then, all at once, I saw you.