"If you are not changed--if you are the same Weston as of old. If you are changed, but nod your head at me, and I will shake you by the hand once more, and go my way."
"Gerald! Gerald!" expostulated Mr. Weston.
"Nay, I mean what I say. It would be human nature. I should be sorry that I had met you again, but I should fling the memory of this meeting from me with all the force of my will, and would strive my hardest to reinstate you, unsullied, in my heart."
He spoke with earnest vehemence, and if an uneasy impression was in Mr. Weston's mind as to the manifest difference in their stations in life--judging from outward appearances--it vanished for the time at Mr. Hart's words.
"Recall for me," he said, "some words I spoke to you once when we were opening our hearts to one another."
"Special words?"
"Special words, with reference to our friendship," replied Mr. Weston, in a tone of anxiety lest his friend should fail to remember them.
"So many," pondered Mr. Hart; "but I can speak the words that are in your mind, I think. 'Once my friend, always my friend; remember that, Gerald.'"
"Those are the words, and I say to you now, 'Once my friend, always my friend; remember that, Gerald.'"
They clasped hands again.