"Well, now, little woman, just sit down in that big rocking chair and let me talk to you like an uncle who had your interest at heart. Villard is a sick man, and he hadn't opened your letter when I called upon him two weeks ago. There were many more and all of them more or less important. Yours was among them, and to oblige him I read all his mail." "My letter, too!" blushed the girl--"and it was sacred--I meant it so." "Yes, and it is still sacred, but now he knows its contents--and he might never have known had I not done a little secretarial work for him that day. He had ordered his mail to be thrown in the fire, but I was consulted, arriving as I did at the right moment. In due course I read your letter, and I sincerely compliment you upon your good sense. I count you as one of my friends, for I know you have nothing against me, so we may be quite confidential, I hope." "Indeed we may, sir," assented Winifred in a very weak little voice. "Mr. Villard trusts me, Mr. Sawyer trusts me, and hundreds of the best-known people in New York trust me. Now I want you to understand that every word I say is truth. I make my living by telling the truth, but in many cases it does not come to light. Now then, listen carefully--Mr. Villard is one of God's noblemen!" "Oh, I know he is, Mr. Updyke!" assented Winifred. "He loved a girl named Winifred many years ago----" "Yes, I know that--too. She warned me of the accident, but in my eagerness to see New York I said little about it. But I did tell Mr. Villard, after I came to know him." "He hears from her, from time to time--or thinks he does--it's all the same," said Updyke. "She warned him of Parkins, but trustful man that he was, he wouldn't believe. Now he knows the truth--but to get back to my point, I want to say, in justice to all parties, that you should _not_ marry Villard. Not that he isn't worthy--far from that, there is no one more so--but his heart is with the dead! As his wife you would become to him the shrine of his dead love's soul!--and he would worship you as such. Would you be satisfied with just that, little girl?" queried the big fellow. Updyke watched the varying emotions of the girl as she struggled to understand. It was all so deep and mysterious, even though she had beliefs of her own like the one he had explained. "Allow me to answer the question for you," prompted Updyke, gazing deep into her eyes. "There are as many beliefs on the subject of the hereafter as there are grief-stricken people. Every person who pretends to know about the life to come is to that extent insane. In fact there is no such thing as complete sanity. The ninety and nine are divided into that same number of personal and deviating beliefs, and the one-hundredth--has no belief whatever." Winifred's eyes had begun to open wide, as if to testify in behalf of her own hereafter, but Updyke raised his hand for a new beginning.