Mr Wellford used his utmost influence with his young friends to bend
them from their anger, but he argued the matter in vain. The voice
of pride was stronger than the voice of reason.

Months were suffered to go by, and even years to elapse, and still
they were as strangers. Circumstances threw them constantly
together; they met in places of business; they sat in full view of
each other in church on the holy Sabbath; they mingled in the same
social circles; the friends of one were the friends of the other;
but they rarely looked into each other's face, and never spoke. Did
this make them happier? No! For, "_If ye forgive not men their
trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive your
trespasses_." Did they feel indifferent toward each other? Not by
any means! Arnest still dwelt on and magnified the provocation he
had received, but thought that the expression of his indignation had
not been of a character to give as great offence to Marston as it
had done. And Marston, as time passed, thought more and more lightly
of the few jesting words he had spoken, and considered them less and
less provocation for the insulting note he had received, which he
still had, and sometimes turned up and read.

The old friends were forced to think of each other often, for both
were rising in the world, and rising into general esteem and
respectability. The name of the one was often mentioned with
approbation in the presence of the other; and it sometimes happened
that they were thrown together in such a way as to render their
position toward each other really embarrassing: as, for instance,
one was called to preside at a public meeting, and the other chosen
secretary. Neither could refuse, and there had to be an official
intercourse between them; it was cold and formal in the extreme; and