“No,” said Dale bitterly; “you cannot think of me as of old.”
“No; but more warmly perhaps, for there is pity mingled with the old friendship that I felt. I came here this afternoon, as schoolboys say, to make it up. I was in ignorance then; now I have eaten of the bitter fruit and know. Armstrong, lad, knowing all this, and as one who, with all his reckless Bohemianism and worldliness, has kept up one little habit taught by her long dead, how can I say ‘forgive me my trespasses’ to-night if, with such a temptation as yours, I can’t forgive?”
Dale gazed at him wildly, and Pacey went on.
“The bond between us two is stronger now, lad, so strong that I think it would take death to snap the cord. Good-bye. If you do not see me soon, it is not that we are no longer friends.”
Then their hands joined in a firm grip, and Pacey slowly left the room, muttering to himself as he passed out into the square—
“Fallen so low, to rise so high. Yes, I must save him, and there is only one way in which it can be done.”