Strange are the ways of Providence.
There are times when coincidence and circumstances blend into episodes for which there is no accounting—an act of God—in terms of legal phrasing. As Parkins' car took a curve in the road at high speed going west, Drury Villard and his neighbor, Dr. Sawyer—out for a leisurely spin with Santzi at the wheel—were on the same road heading east.
The day was especially fine, and with top down the Villard car sped along the concrete road without a jolt or a jar. Sawyer, in a most excellent mood, was inclined to speak jokingly of the Parkins episode at Dreamy Hollow two days previously. But to all of his sallies Villard failed to answer in kind. Certain "messages" were on his mind, and along with them a mixture of joy and sorrow combined. Could another Winifred answer the call of his yearning? Could his heart go out to any other than the Winifred of old? He doubted it, but he owed it to his dead love to await certain events, since she had urged the duty upon him.
So absorbed was he in contemplating the situation that he was quite unprepared for the sudden application of the emergency brakes. His car was rounding a curve at a healthy speed when suddenly Santzi pulled up short, just in time to avoid the wreckage of two monster machines overturned in collision. Each had been smashed into a veritable mass, and the silence of the scene served to accentuate the gruesome aspect of the otherwise beautiful surroundings. Suddenly a tall man with hair of iron gray staggered to his feet and shouted—"Winifred!"
"Winifred!" echoed Villard, jumping from his car. In a second more Sawyer, hastening to alight, called upon Santzi to rush along for a doctor, and to notify the motor police.
Villard, who stood spellbound on hearing the name he adored, soon forced himself into action. Instantly the words that were whispered to him in the early morning hours came to mind. "It is myself, incarnate, that you will marry—You will meet her soon—There will be an accident—You will give assistance."
He saw a man, hatless and bleeding, rushing madly about calling the name Winifred. Villard again took up the cry.
"Winifred!—Winifred!" he shouted, running from point to point amid the wreckage.
His search was soon successful.
Of several persons strewn about the roadside he knew instinctively, when he had stooped over the form of the one he sought. He dropped to his knees and seized her hands, chafing them vigorously to renew suspended animation. He placed his hand upon her brow, and raised an eyelid—then bent over and put his ear to her heart.