"Now, at once?" asked the Manager in surprise. "But, Ulric, a man cannot go courting all in a minute like that, when a quarter of an hour before he had no notion of such a thing. Think over the matter first."

Ulric moved impatiently. "What is the good of waiting? I must know where I am. Let me go in, father."

The old man shook his head, but he was far too much afraid that his son would repent him of his hasty resolve to offer any very serious opposition. In the joy of his heart he cared little if the long-wished-for union were brought about in a somewhat unusual manner.

He determined to stay quietly outside, so that the young people within could settle the business at their ease, for he knew Ulric well enough to be aware that any inopportune interference on his part would spoil everything.

In the meantime the young man had crossed the pa.s.sage rapidly, as if he neither could nor would grant himself one moment for reflection. He opened the door of the room they commonly used, and saw Martha sitting at the table. Her hands, usually so busy, lay idle in her lap. She did not look up as he entered, and seemed not to notice that he came and stood quite close to her chair. He could see quite plainly that she had been crying.

"Do you bear me ill-will, Martha, because I was out of temper just now?

I am sorry for it. Why do you look at me so?"

"Because it is the first time you ever were sorry for it. You never cared before how I took your ill-temper. Let it be so still."

Her tone was cold and meant as a repulse, but Ulric did not allow himself to be intimidated by it. His father's revelations must really have had some powerful effect on his stubborn nature, for his voice was unusually gentle as he replied.

"I know I am a great deal worse than the others, but I can't help it.

You must take me as I am; perhaps you will be able to make something better of me."

At his first word the girl had looked up surprised, and she must have seen something strange in his face, for she moved hastily as if to rise. Ulric held her fast.

"Stay here, Martha, I want to talk to you. I want to ask you ... Well, I am not one for many words, and between us they are not needed. We are first cousins, we have lived together for years in the same house. You know best whether you can care for me at all, and you must know too that I have always been fond of you in spite of all our quarrels. Will you be my wife, Martha?"

The wooing was abrupt, brusque and stormy, as became the suitor's nature.

He drew a long breath, as if with these decisive words a weight had fallen from him. Martha still sat motionless before him. Her blooming colour had faded, had changed to a deep pallor, but she neither trembled nor hesitated as she uttered a low half-stifled "No."

Ulric thought he had not heard aright. "You will not?"

"No, Ulric, I will not!" repeated the girl resolutely, though almost under her breath.

The young man drew himself up offended.

"Well then, I might have spared my words. My father has been mistaken and so have I. No offence, Martha."

Wounded in his pride by the curt refusal he had met with, he was about to leave the room at once, but a look at Martha arrested him. She had risen and was grasping the chair with both hands, as though needing its support. No word of reply or of explanation came from her lips, but they trembled so and there was such an expression of unspoken pain in her white face that Ulric began to feel his father might be right after all.

"I thought you cared for me, Martha," he said, with some slight reproach in his tone.

She turned hastily from him and hid her face in her hands, but he caught a sound like that of a sob repressed with difficulty.

"I might have known I was too savage, too rough for you. You are afraid, you think I might grow worse after the marriage. You will have a better husband in Lawrence. He will let you have your own way in everything."

The girl shook her head and slowly turned her face to him again.

"I am not afraid of you, though you are often a bit rough and wild. I know you can't help it, and I would have taken you as you were, ay, gladly, perhaps! But I will not take you as you are now, Ulric, as you have been ever since .... ever since the young mistress came home."

Ulric started, and a flaming blush spread over his face. He wished to break out in wrath, to bid her be silent, but he could not bring his lips to frame a syllable.

"Uncle thinks you care for no one because your head is taken up with other things," continued Martha, more and more excitedly. "Yes, indeed, quite other things! You have never given me a thought, and now you come all at once and want me to be your wife. You want some one to help drive away your thoughts, Ulric, don't you? and the first one who comes is good enough for that. Even I am good enough for that! But things are not so bad with me yet that I should be put to such a use. If I cared for you more than for the whole world beside, if it were to cost me my life to part from you, I would rather have Lawrence, I would rather have any one now than you!"

This pa.s.sionate outbreak, contrasting with the girl's usually quiet demeanour, might have shown Ulric what deep root he had taken in her heart. Perhaps he did feel it, but the cloud still rested on his brow and the flush on his face grew deeper with every word. He gave her no answer, but, as she now broke out into loud weeping, stood at her side quite dumb, making no attempt to comfort or to calm her.

Some minutes pa.s.sed in torturing silence. Martha lay with her head and arms resting on the table. Nothing was to be heard but the sound of her convulsive sobs and the monotonous ticking of the old clock against the wall.

At length Ulric stooped down to her. His voice was not so hard as it had been, but it was scarcely gentle; there was in it only a dull, low sound of pain.

"Never mind, Martha. I thought it might be better if you would help me.

Perhaps it would only have been worse, and you are quite right not to risk it with me. Let things be as they have always been between us two."

He went without further leave-taking. On the threshold he stopped an instant and looked back, but the girl did not raise her head, and he went quickly out.

"Well?" said the Manager, eagerly, as he came forward to meet his son.

"Well?" he repeated more anxiously, for Ulric's face was not happy as that of an affianced lover.

"It was of no good, father," said Ulric in a low voice. "Martha will not have me."

"Will not have _you_?" cried the old man, as though the most astounding news in the world were being announced to him.

"No, and don't tease her with a lot of questions and talk about it. She knows well enough why she has refused me, and I know too, so there is no use in a third person meddling with it. Now let me go, father, I must get away."

He hurried past, evidently wishing to escape all further discussion.

The Manager grasped his pipe with both hands; he was almost inclined to dash it to the ground, by way of giving vent to his vexation.

"Who can understand these women and their fancies? I could have staked my head upon it that the girl was fond of him, and now she sends him away with a No! and he ... I should not have thought he would have taken it so much to heart. He looked quite scared, and he is tearing along the road as if he were mad. But he will never explain it to me as long as he lives, I know him well enough to be sure of that, and Martha won't either."

The Manager went on pacing up and down the little garden, until gradually his wrath sobered down to a more resigned state of feeling.

What could be done in the matter after all? They could not be tied together by force if they did not wish to be so tied, and it was of no use racking one's brains to discover why they did not wish it. With a heavy sigh the old man bade farewell to his favourite scheme, now hopelessly shipwrecked. These things cannot be forced!

He was still standing at the garden-gate, busy with his troubled thoughts, when he saw the younger Herr Berkow coming down the road which led past his cottage to the back of the park. Arthur seemed better acquainted than his wife with the mode of ingress. He drew a key from his pocket, destined, no doubt, to fit the lock which had so recently been broken open.

The Manager bowed deeply and respectfully to the young heir as he went by. With his usual scant sympathy, Arthur, hardly glancing aside at him, gave a lofty negligent little nod by way of recognition, and was pa.s.sing on. A quiver of pain came into the old man's face, as he stood there still holding his cap in his hand and looking after the other with a mournful gaze which seemed to say, "So that's what you have grown into!"

Either Arthur saw the look or it occurred to him all at once that the old friend and playfellow of his childish years was there before him; he stopped suddenly.

"Oh, it is you, Hartmann! How do you do?"

He stretched out his hand in his lazy, indifferent way, and seemed rather surprised that it was not immediately grasped, but for years such a favour had not been granted, and the Manager hesitated before accepting it; when he did so at last, it was shily and with precaution, as though fearing to hurt the delicate white hand by the touch of his rough hard palm.

"Thank you, I am pretty well so far, Herr Arthur----I beg pardon, Herr Berkow, I mean."

"Keep to the Arthur," said the young man, quietly. "You are more used to it, and I would rather hear it from you than the other name. So you are all right, Hartmann?"

"Well yes, thank G.o.d, Herr Arthur. I have as much as I want. There is a bit of trouble and care in every house, and I am a little worried just now about my children, but it can't be helped."

"About your children? I thought you had only one son."

"Quite right, my Ulric. But I have a niece in my house, too, Martha Ewers."