It was a man. As he came near me he slowed down, and stopped. He was then immediately behind me. I heard his quick breathing. I felt that his eyes were fixed on me. One sidelong glance told me that he was wearing a long ulster and a cap, that he was young, tall, powerfully built, had a strong, firm, clean-shaven face, and an indescribable sense of the open air about him.
"Now, now!" I thought, and (to prevent myself from running away) I turned quickly round to him and tried to speak.
But I said nothing. I did not know what women say to men under such circumstances. I found myself trembling violently, and before I was aware of what was happening I had burst into tears.
Then came another blinding moment and a tempest of conflicting feelings.
I felt that the man had laid hold of me, that his strong hands were grasping my arms, and that he was looking into my face. I heard his voice. It seemed to belong to no waking moment but to come out of the hours of sleep.
"Mary! Mary!"
I looked up at him, but before my eyes could carry the news to my brain I knew who it was—I knew, I knew, I knew!
"Don't be afraid! It's I!"
Then something—God knows what—made me struggle to escape, and I cried:
"Let me go!"