She had fancied the same thing last Saturday evening.

She had not really spoken to him since early in the summer, when he got so angry because she wanted him to go into the smithy again.
She went quickly down the street--she was quite certain that it was he! She hurried on farther, down to the bridge; but it was the same as last time--he was not to be seen.

So she turned back again, disappointed, keeping constant watch on Mrs.Selvig's green door.

She knew her father would appear as the clock struck eight.
She went up towards it and down again: she began to grow impatient.

It must be past the time.