A month went by before anything of importance broke in upon the even tenor of Villard's daily life. The Parkins matter had waned into a memory and Updyke held his peace as to the whereabouts of the man. Then, suddenly, as a bolt from the sky, the engagement of Winifred Barbour of Patchogue and George Carver of Riverhead was announced in the local papers of that thriving little city. From the moment Villard learned of it he settled back into the life of a recluse. He had lost his battle in the dearest cause of his life. He became old and worn over night, such had been the inexorable reaction from his mighty love for the girl of his heart. Only Updyke and Sawyer could gain access to his seclusion. Gray patches of hair made quick attack upon the dark brown, and no longer caring for his general appearance, gray whiskers and a stubby mustache were allowed to grow at random. The change was most radical, but not without distinction. After all it was Villard who wore them.
From the day he read the item concerning the engagement Villard refused the newspapers and all reading matter. Even letters, addressed personally to him at Dreamy Hollow, were allowed to lay unopened. And there was one from Winifred, in which she had bared her soul in explanation, declaring her undying allegiance, as might a daughter and a comforter--but not as a wife. The envelope remained unbroken, as merely one of the heap that grew day by day. Nothing mattered--Villard's world stood still.
In one paragraph Winifred had written an explanation of her motives, and she prayed for an answer from the depths of her heart. It read--
Dear Friend:--These things I would have you stop and consider, not lightly, because of your love for me. I am not of your station in life--and I would not drag you down to mine. Just imagine the harm that would come of it--a blight on your life, that you could never live down. Oh, my dearest friend on earth, how would either of us regard the other once we were confronted by the mirror of public opinion? So, with eyes open wide to the consequences of wedlock with you, I am about to consecrate my life to a plain, simple man, without riches or deep learning--one of my own station in life, who will never have cause to rue the day he takes me to wed. It is all for the best, dear friend. Just allow your big, generous heart to feel that my intentions are for your good, and also my own. There have been precious moments in our lives which I shall never forget--nor shall I deny, even to the man I shall marry--that you were the first to inspire my heart with a knowledge of what a sacred emotion love should be.