"To-night, or to-morrow; it is very near."
"I hope so."
"And there will be pleasure for you in it—a surprise; something I do not quite understand."
"Then you cannot tell me the contents of my supposed letter," said Winifred banteringly.
"No; that is hidden from me; but the writer loves you, as many will love you and fail, all but one."
"And what of him?" asked Winifred softly.
She knew it was all nonsense, but it was very sweet foolery and she loved to hear it.
"He is a man who will prove worthy of you, and your life will be full of happiness. I wonder if he is the brave gentleman who helped me a year or two ago, when I saw him not very far from here. I had a sick child, and he gave me all the money he had with him and walked back to Brighton. He was a noble man, worthy of a great love."
Winifred coloured as she said—
"I heard about it; he told me before he went to Australia."