nd."

"No, Florence, I don't; I wish I could."

"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."

"It was in my heart, dearest; it has been there a very long time. I have
tried to keep it friendship, but I couldn't." Harold slowly rose and
stood beside her. "Forgive me," he continued. "I couldn't help it,
Florence; I couldn't."

She took his hand; it was cold. "Forgive you," she said, "I have nothing
to forgive."

His hand tightened about hers. "I love you, Florence," he said. "Will
you be my wife?"

She raised her eyes and looked full into his face. "Would you marry your
best friend?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Calmly he returned her glance. "No," he replied. "Not unless she brought
me the same love I gave."

"Then I cannot promise to be your wife," she said hesitatingly, as
though the words were painful.

He released her hand slowly. "May I hope that some day it will be
different?"

"Let us both hope so," she replied. They remained silent and motionless,
each feeling that an epoch of life had come; each wondering what
futurity concealed. Perhaps a minute passed, though it seemed much
longer, then Florence spoke. "We had better not remain here, Harold, the
world sometimes misunderstands even friends."

He walked silently beside her, back to where the others were. Duncan saw
them approaching and took the opportunity to leave Miss Ender. Harold
felt that he could not endure the laughter and merriment about him; so
he left Florence with Duncan and wandered