Are you angry
with me for saying so? Don't be; for I've got to tell you everything,
and--and--it's difficult!"
He was silent a moment. Her head was still down-bent, her small white
hand hung at her side; she was quite motionless but for the slow,
rhythmic rise and fall of her bosom.
"When you came to me, when you spoke to me, my heart leapt as if--well,
as if something good had happened to me--something that had never
happened before. When I went away the picture of you standing at the
door, waving your hand, went with me, and--stayed with me. I could not
get you out of my mind--could think of nothing else. 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.
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