University of Virginia Library

16. XVI.

But he was not allowed to forget so readily.
His friend Conrade Weickhoff, like a true friend,
kept him in memory of his honorable engagements.
During the honeymoon, however, Conrade
most strangely kept aloof from the dwelling
of the lovers; and, for that brief period, it may
safely be affirmed that never was dwelling more
favored by the sunshine of happiness. The two,
thus united, seemed only to live for one another;
and such was the warmth and strength of their
mutual attachment, that the most casual or close
observer must have seen that their future joy, if it
depended only upon themselves, must be unalloyed
and permanent. Alas! it did not depend
entirely upon themselves. The alloy was

at hand, and the friend of Rodolph, strange to
say, was the first to administer it. A month
had passed, or more, when Conrade suddenly
made his appearanee. Will it be believed, that
Rodolph was pained to see him? So it was. The
presence of his friend brought with it the recollection
of the dreadful engagement which he had
made, and to which he had seduced him. He
sickened at his sight, and turned away. But his
aversion was not seen by Conrade; at least, the
latter did not seem to see it. He resolutely approached,
and took the hand of Rodolph in his
own, and addressed him in the soothing and sweet
language of friendship. But even the tones of his
voice, so soft and pleasant to his ear, and the
words of good faith which Conrade uttered, were
all neutralized by a strange, taunting laugh, a
suppressed chuckle, which his friend of late had
most unaccountably adopted.

“D—n that strange laugh which you have,”
said Rodolph, abruptly; “I do not like it; it
goes like a cold wind into my bones. Where the
d—l did you pick it up?”

“You do not like it, then?” said the other, and
he laughed again, more unpleasantly than ever.

“Like it, Conrade! How should I? It is the
strangest, most annoying chuckle I ever heard in

my life. Drop it, for my sake, I pray you, and
take up some better habit.”

Conrade was obliging enough.

“I will try to rid myself of it,” said he, “since
it annoys you, though the effort will be a hard
one. It is so natural to me.”

“Natural to you!” exclaimed Rodolph; “why,
I do not remember to have ever heard it before
you went to sea?”

“Perhaps not; it is a foreign acquisition, no
doubt, and not the less natural for being so. The
journey through life is chiefly taken that we may
pick up our nature as we go along. Our nature
is not born with us, as foolish people imagine.
We choose it from a variety, as we choose our
dresses; and our happiness depends very much
upon the sort of stuff and color we make choice
of. Perhaps, if you observe closely, you will see
that the most fickle people are those who have a
variety — the most fortunate those who have but
one. It is my error to have chosen some that do
not sit graciously; that laugh, for example, which
you do not like. My smile pleases you better,
I doubt not?”

And Conrade, as he spoke, turned his glance
upon the face of Rodolph, with an expression
which was even more annoying to the youth than

the chuckle of which he had complained. He
was about to say so to his companion, but the
fear of being thought querulous, and his own increasing
consciousness of a state of nervous excitability,
determined him to say nothing.

“I am feverish, I think, this evening, Conrade,”
he said to his friend; “do you not think
so?”

He extended his hand as he spoke; but when
the fingers of Conrade pressed the wrist, it seemed
to him that he was chilled as by an ague. He
withdrew his arm instantly, and looked with astonishment
upon his comrade, whose smile, like
that of a basilisk, was fixed upon him.

“You are disordered,” said Conrade, a moment
after, with a show of concern in his countenance.
“You should take medicine. I will ride over to
Oberfeldt's castle, and get you something. He
had a fine laboratory, and made his own chemicals.”

“God forbid!” exclaimed Rodolph; “Nothing
from that d—nable place, in heaven's name.”

“We will not speak of the absent,” responded
the other gravely. “But let us to the castle;
some wine will cheer us both, and, possibly, put
you in better health and spirits.”