What she did think of him was this:  That he had become that which he had affected to consider the most despicable thing on earth—­a hypocrite.  Remember, she had no personal knowledge of the power of the Spirit of God over a human soul.  She had no conception of how so mighty a change could be wrought in the space of a few hours, so her only solution of the mystery was that to serve some end which he had in view Dr. Douglass had chosen to assume a new character.

Later, on that same day, Sadie encountered Dr. Douglass, rather, she went to the side piazza equipped for a walk, and he came eagerly from the west end to speak with her.

“Miss Sadie, I have been watching for you.  I have a few words that are burning to be said.”

“Proceed,” said Sadie, standing with demurely folded hands, and a mock gravity in her roguish eyes.

“I want to do justice at this late day to Dr. Van Anden.  I misjudged him, wronged him, perhaps prejudiced you against him.  I want to undo my work.”

“Some things can be done more easily than they can be undone,” was Sadie’s grave and dignified reply.  “You certainly have done your best to prejudice me against Dr. Van Anden not only, but against all other persons who hold his peculiar views, and you have succeeded splendidly.  I congratulate you.”

That look of absolute pain which she had seen once or twice on this man’s face, swept over it now as he answered her.

“I know—­I have been blind and stupid, wicked any thing you will.  Most bitterly do I regret it now; most eager am I to make reparation.”

Sadie’s only answer was:  “What a capital actor you would make, Dr. Douglass.  Are you sure you have not mistaken your vocation?”

“I know what you think of me.”  This with an almost quivering lip, and a voice strangely humble and as unlike as possible to any which she had ever heard from Dr. Douglass before.  “You think I am playing a part.  Though what my motive could be I can not imagine, can you?  But I do solemnly assure you that if ever I was sincere in any thing in all my life I am now concerning this matter.”

“There is a most unfortunate ‘if’ in the way, Doctor.  You see, the trouble is, I have very serious doubts as to whether you ever were sincere in any thing in your life.  As to motives, a first-class anybody likes to try his power.  You will observe that ’I have a very poor opinion of the world.’”

The Doctor did not notice the quotation of his favorite expression, but answered with a touch of his accustomed dignity: 

“I may have deserved this treatment at your hands, Miss Sadie.  Doubtless I have, although I am not conscious of ever having said to you any thing which I did not think I meant.  I have been a fool.  I am willing—­yes, and anxious to own it.  But there are surely some among your acquaintances whom you can trust if you can not me.  I—­”