"Nay, Guly, it may not be, I might but fall again. Let my former self—what I have been to you for the past few months—be remembered only as the dead; think of me but in the light of our early days, and in that light I will once more come back to you."
"And, Arthur, you will remember me with love and kindness, letting all the bitterness of the past drop into oblivion?"
"I will, I will—and you?"
"With love, always, with love, dear Arthur, shall this heart remember, shall this spirit enshrine you."
"God bless you! God keep you till we meet!"
There came one long, tender, tearful embrace, and once again the brothers parted; Arthur's footsteps falling gently
on his ear, as he stole out through the arched alley way below. Thus they met, and thus they parted, in the same gloomy old room where they had experienced so much joy and so much sorrow at their first outset on life's troubled ocean.