After leaving college Harold had come to the western metropolis and, by hard and creditable work had built up a flourishing law-practice. He was only twenty-seven and possessed in a marked degree the best qualities of young American manhood. He was one of those young men so numerous in Western cities, whose earnest and energetic characters, untouched by Old World follies and vices, make them the heirs of the pioneer of the past. Florence had admired Harold as a sister might admire a strong, splendid brother. She trusted and looked up to him, and she often confided her thoughts to him. He was a sympathetic friend, but that was all; she, at least, was not a lover.
"Do you know, Harold," Florence said, as they took their seats on the settee, "that we have not had one of our old talks since you were home last summer. There has been a succession of bothersome people to interfere ever since I arrived. Tell me, are you working as hard as ever?"
"Yes," he replied. "I am still toiling away, but to what end I don't know."
"Because you are not the man to mind the bumps in life's road. You can see beyond them."
Harold was silent; he seemed thoughtful; a little sigh escaped him. "Can I, Florence?" he finally said. "You know me better than I know myself. What can I see?"
"Dr. Johnson called friendship 'the cordial drop that makes the nauseous draught of life go down'."
"Why, Harold! you forget that I am your friend."
"How strangely you act to-night," she replied in puzzled tones. "I don't understand you."
"That cordial drop of friendship is a poison, sweet, subtle, and deadly," he answered mournfully.
Florence drew back, startled. "Harold, you forget the past," she said anxiously.
"I wish I could," he replied sadly. "I wish you were not my friend."
"Why?" she asked, frightened, and almost afraid to hear the reply.
"Because I love you, Florence," he slowly and earnestly replied. "If you were not my dearest friend you might love me, too."
She looked wonderingly into his face, almost expecting to read there that his words were in jest. She was so startled that the full meaning of what he said did not, at first, appear to her, but slowly she realized that this friendship that had lasted so long and had been so sweet must end. She covered her face with her hands as though hoping to hide this thought from her mind. "Why did you say it? Why did you say it?" she moaned. "It was so sweet before."