"If your friendship for me were true and genuine, you would trust me," said Eckhof. "I have made you share in my happiness, and I demand the holy right of sharing your grief."
Lupinus did not reply. Eckhof lifted him gently in his arms, and laying him upon the sofa, took a seat near him.
He laid his arms around him, placed his head upon his bosom, and in a soft, melodious voice, whispered words of comfort, encouragement, and love. The young man trembled convulsively, and wept without restraint.
Suddenly he raised himself; the agony was over; his lips slightly trembled, but he pressed them together; his eyes were full of tears, but he shook his head proudly, and dashed them from him.
"It is past, all past! my dream has dispersed. I am awake once more!"
"And now, Lupinus, you will tell me all?"
"No, not now, but to-morrow. To-morrow you shall know all. Therefore, go, my friend, and leave me alone. Go to her you love, gaze in her eyes, and see in them a starry heaven; then think of me, whose star is quenched, who is bowed down under a heavy load of affliction. Go! go! if you love me, go at once!"
"I love you, therefore I obey you, but my heart is heavy for you, and my own happiness is clouded. But I go; to-morrow you will tell me all?"
"To-morrow."
"But when, when do we meet again?"