“You speak [203] as if you would be my friend.” said Boast, “friends with me are very scarce. My highest ambition has ever been to make friends, and yet it requires no words of mine to tell you what a miserable failure I have made of it all. I would like to be Rufus Grim’s friend, but he won’t let me. He does everything he can to influence my cousin, Bertha Allen, against me, but in that he is making a complete failure. She is my friend,” said he with animation. “I suppose you know that Mrs. Grim is very ill?” “No,” said Vance; “I had not heard of it.” “Yes, she has never been very rugged, and I understand her present illness is of a very serious nature. She is so many years older than her pompous lord and master, that it would not be surprising to hear of her death at any time. Personally, I should regret it, not only on account of my aunt, but also on account of Bertha. I dread to think what may happen if my aunt should die.” “You do not regard her sickness so seriously as that?” asked Vance. “She is certainly very ill,” was Boast’s reply. “I would like to go and see her, but I do not presume Rufus Grim would let me into the house. But what I desired most to say,” continued Boast, brightening up and changing the conversation, “is this: I would like to have you be my friend. I wish to be yours.” Vance was astonished, and for a moment could not reply. Finally he said, “I cannot do less, Mr. Boast, than meet you half way in such a laudable ambition, I am sure.” “Ambition,” repeated Boast, “what a detestable word! I sometimes think ambition has been the cause of all my misfortune. I have wanted wealth all my life, but have not succeeded to any great extent. I ought to be in Waterville now, selling town lots and lands. There’s [204] great activity down there. I have the ambition but not the strength. You may not know it, but my health is seriously impaired. I do not seem to have any vitality.” Vance expressed his sympathy, but Boast seemingly did not notice his remarks, and said, “if a man has a clearly defined principle of life to follow, why cannot he adhere to it?” “I think he can,” replied Vance. “No life, in my judgment, has ever been a success unless a well-defined principle of action is first laid out, and then lived up to.” “I wish I could believe your philosophy,” said Boast. “The dual nature in me continually divides me. 9212 I go to sleep at night filled with the most laudable ambitions; I wake up the next morning and pursue an entirely different course, and therein lies the conflict—but I know, Mr. Gilder, I am boring you.” Vance assured him that he was not, but soon afterward took his leave, and as he walked along toward his home, he mused thoughtfully over his interview with J. Arthur Boast. What a different light had been thrown on his character! “Yes,” said he, “I will be his friend. I have misunderstood him.”