Villard was never cheerful when showered with thanks. When the older man tried to express his gratitude the master of Dreamy Hollow simply smiled and waved his hand. A few minutes later he stood on the sands of his private beach and watched the waves as they swirled and pounded on the shore line. His thoughts, however, were far away, but the very faith he put behind them turned them into messages to his dead. But he anticipated no word in reply. His own reasoning counseled him that the new Winifred had released the old from further strenuous effort in his behalf.
"It is myself incarnate, you will marry"—she had told him. Then—"You will meet her soon."
And it had all come about just as she said, and now she could rest forevermore in peace—the darling of his early love! Her effort at self-effacement, were it possible to erase herself from his memory, had been sublime, but to her reincarnated soul he would hinge his destiny through the instrumentality of Winifred Barbour. She had now become the Winifred of his earlier devotion, and he would lavish his love as a true man should—but there would be no relaxation of his loyalty to the memory of the dear one gone before.
"I shall always revere your memory," he had whispered hoarsely. "The new Winifred will never attempt to obscure your likeness from my heart. Together you will entwine my soul and become as one great love. Farewell beloved. Go to thy rest!"
As Villard spoke he bared his head and stood quite still. Then, as he walked his way back he quickened his pace, but halted abruptly as Alexander Barbour came running toward him.
"She's all right again—her mind has been suddenly restored!" he shouted.
"The Lord be praised!" shouted Villard with a glad light in his eyes. Resuming his rapid gait, he left Barbour puffing along, behind.
"And she has asked for 'Drury'—and insists upon seeing him," panted Barbour. "How could she know of you? I tell you, sir, it's very strange! She has always lived in one place. She knows nothing of your helpfulness in rescuing her from the wreck. All she realizes is that there was a collision and that she has waked up in a palace. She seems not to know that her memory has been lost since the accident."
"When did this change take place—and where?" demanded Villard, soberly.
"She was in the hammock on the west veranda—and had dozed off after playing like a little child among the flowers."