"Then it's a go—and many thanks. Bye, sir," concluded Parkins, in his usual courteous way.
"Bye, old boy. I await you with great impatience. Speed the day—S'long—keep yourself good."
A delightful sense of anticipation came into the mind of Drury Villard as he hung the receiver. He felt the need of fellowship and upon Parkins' acceptance his great frame took on a certain vigor that called for action. He must hurry the time away that intervened before Parkins should arrive on Sunday. He must make plans. Perhaps Doctor Sawyer of the adjacent estate would join him in a dinner of welcome.
Such a plan would brush away all business talk, sure to take place if Parkins and himself were left alone the first evening. His idea was to dodge business altogether. Parkins needed a rest, and, as for himself, he had no heart for ordinary commercial chit-chat. He held a great secret in his bosom, a precious secret, and even with so good a friend as Parkins he would be chary of sharing it. For the present, pending the arrival of his visitor, he had much in mind with which to occupy himself. Parkins must find an improvement in him, therefore he would hasten his plan of mastering the secret of composure. His great experience of the afternoon might be repeated if he could but put his mind in condition to receive it. Wonderful thought!—and he would strive to bring it about.
First of all, for the sake of health, another walk along the beach seemed practical, and obeying the impulse, Villard soon found himself strolling leisurely over the path leading to the waters of the bay. He could hear the heavy intonation of the milling tide as it broke upon the sands, long before he reached his destination. Its deep muffled roar was not unlike the reveille of a drum corps in a far-away encampment. As he neared his destination, such was his serenity of mind that he felt himself in tune with all nature from earth to sky. His whole being thrilled at the wonderful message from his dead love.
"There is no death!" he murmured—and then, in lower tone, almost a whisper, he repeated—"there is no death—my beloved knows the truth!"
"Oh, Winifred," he cried aloft, "speak again to me! Tell me that you are near—that I may hope—that I may——" and then a chilling blast swept over the sands that sent a shiver through his body. A voice shouted—a voice he knew and loved so well. It seemed to say—"Life never dies!"—as clear as ever a human tongue could bear a message. It was the same sweet voice as of old, but all-pervading, seeming to completely encompass the eager man on all sides—and from below, and from above. His eyes opened wide in amazement as he put forth his whole strength to control his senses. A man of iron will, he would not fail himself at such a supreme moment! Near unto him was the spirit of his dead, the soul of his loved one—a second visitation.
"Speak on, my Winifred!" he whispered hoarsely, while attempting to shout his words.
"Life, itself, is everlasting!" rang out the voice once more. "The body dies when the soul takes flight—it is no more in being."