Vance was at a loss to understand why Boast had left Waterville, especially as it was rumored that a great boom was going on at that place. One day Vance received a note from Arthur Boast asking him to call at the hotel that evening. He said he was indisposed and could not leave his room, otherwise he would call at the printing office. It was after eight o’clock when Vance called at the hotel, and was at once ushered into J. Arthur Boast’s room. He found Boast dressed as elegantly as ever, in fact, he was scrupulously attired, and resting on a divan. He seemed weak, and was quite pale. He no longer spoke in a thin, piping voice, but in a quiet, manly way, that at once interested Vance. “I sent for you, Mr. Gilder, because I was lonely and wanted to talk with you. I suppose you think I am supremely selfish in this, as everything else, but I have been almost sick for the last week.” “We are admonished to visit the sick,” said Vance, good-naturedly, “and I am sure it is only natural that one indisposed should like company.” “It is very kind of you to come, I’m sure,” Boast went on, “I have been worried a good deal about a certain misunderstanding that seemingly exists between us.” Vance assured him that he knew of no misunderstanding. “No,” said Boast, “not an open misunderstanding; but then I feel that you have misunderstood me from the [202] first, Mr. Gilder, and perhaps, in a measure, I have done you the injustice of not always interpreting your acts as I should have done. I do not know whether there is any philosophy in the circumstances which seem to shape my life or not.” “We are told,” said Vance, “that in our strength and manhood we should shape circumstances rather than let circumstances shape us.” “That’s it,” said Boast, “the eternal trying to shape circumstances brings on an endless conflict, not only between men, but a conflict with one’s own self. I have almost made up my mind that it is quite impossible for a man to shape his destiny. Now, as a matter of fact, I respect you, Mr. Gilder, highly, and have confidence in your ability and judgment. I think you are making a great success of the Prospector. It is impossible,” he went on, “for me to tell you why I have this confidence or this respect. I also know that you cordially dislike me, but why, I do not know, and perhaps you could not tell yourself.” Vance was surprised at this philosophic turn of mind, and began to think he had misunderstood J. Arthur Boast all along. “I cannot help but feel complimented,” said Vance, “by your kind words. I will admit that I have never stopped to analyze my feelings very closely in regard to yourself, and will not deny that I have been unable to discover any affinity between us. Perhaps I have misjudged you. If so, I can do no less than make proper amends.”