had been one with some hidden meaning in it: "I hardly know what I
believe. Certainly some power seems to lay traps for our wills at
times, and waylay us when they are off duty. As, for instance," he
went on, "I wanted to see you to-day, and I did not go to see you: my
will acted perfectly well, and I seemed able to resist any temptation.
I came out here to walk alone, thinking that I should be even farther
away from you here than elsewhere, when, lo! you start up in my path,
and here we are together. It is just as if some malicious spirit
had mocked me with an idea of my own strength, only to betray me the
better through my weakness." He spoke with an intensity which seemed
out of place, and strangely unlike his usual calm manner. Somehow,
a feeling of great delight had come over me as he spoke. I felt
pleased--why I do not know--at his evident impatience and annoyance.

"But why," said I, "did you turn with me? _There_ would have been the
moment for your will to act."

"You think so? That is hardly fair, Miss Linton. Does one brand a
soldier as a coward and a laggard who has fought and won a battle, and
has sunk exhausted upon his arms to sleep, if he is discomfited and
dismayed when, just as slumber has him in its arms, a fresh foe sets
upon him? No, I _could_ not turn back."

His eyes were bent on me again, and something in them stirred my soul
to its depths. Such a delicious feeling seemed stealing over me--a
feeling of mixed power and weakness. I felt my color rise, but I
looked ahead over the snowfields and said, "I don't see why you should
have turned back. Why should you want to be with me and not be with
me? I wanted to see you too."