Even in the meeting with my father, whom I hadn't seen for so long, the thought of you kept with me.

I tried to get rid of it--to forget you, but it was of no use: sleeping and waking, you--_you were with me!_" His voice grew almost harsh in its intensity, and the hand that had hung so stilly beside her closed on the skirt of her dress in her effort to keep the hot blush from her face.
"When I rode out the next day it was only with the hope of seeing you.
It seemed to me there was only one thing I wanted: to see you again; to look into your eyes, to hear you speak.

All that I had heard about you--well, I dwelt upon it, and I felt that I must help you.

It seemed as if Fate--Chance--oh, I don't know what to call it!--had _sent_ me to help you.

And when I saw you--ah, well, I can't expect you to understand what I felt!" He stopped again, as if he himself were trying to understand it.
"The feeling that fate had something to do with it--you see, it was quite by chance I started fishing that afternoon, that I saw you at the house--gave me courage to ask you to let me help you.