Eugenie's fingers closed tightly round the rose which she had drawn out of the vase and was still holding in her hand. The tender flower shared the fate her fan had lately met with in Arthur's grasp; it fell crushed to the ground. Arthur did not notice it, he had now almost turned his back on her and stood facing her father, who stared as though in doubt as to whether it really were his son-in-law he saw before him.

"I cannot, of course, divine who may have made such very exaggerated disclosures to you," he replied gravely, "but I do beg of you in this matter to have some consideration for Eugenie. The role she will, in all probability, have to play in the city this winter makes it impossible for her--excuse me, Herr Berkow--impossible, I say, for her to bear a middle-cla.s.s name. That was never intended either by your father or by me."

Arthur looked again at his wife long and sternly. She still took no part in the conversation, interfering by no single word, though she generally knew right well how to make her views known and her will felt.

"Before the winter, the situation may have shaped itself differently than at present appears. Leave that to Eugenie and to me. For the time being, I regret that I must maintain my decision. As this high position is offered to me alone, I certainly have the right alone to accept or to decline, and I must decline, for--pardon me. Baron--I do not wish to owe it to my wife's aristocratic name."

Windeg rose offended.

"Then there is no course left open to me but to recall as speedily as possible the steps which have already been taken in this business, so that I may not be compromised further than I am at present. Eugenie, you are quite silent. What do you say to the views you have heard your husband express?"

The young wife was spared all answer, for at this moment the door was, not noiselessly opened by the servant as was usual, but hastily flung back, and, unannounced, with pallid face and an utter disregard of those forms to which he was wont to pay so much attention, in rushed Herr Wilberg.

"Is Herr Berkow here? Excuse me, my lady, I must speak to Herr Berkow at once."

"What has happened?" said Arthur, going up to the young man, whose disturbed countenance betrayed ill tidings.

"An accident!" said Wilberg breathless. "Down below in the shaft. Your father is hurt, grievously hurt. The Director sent me"----

He got no further in his report, for Arthur had hurried past him to the door. The young official was about to follow him, but outside in the corridor he was stopped by the Baron.

"Have you told the son the whole truth?" asked he gravely. "You need hide nothing from me. Is Herr Berkow dead?"

"Yes," gasped Wilberg. "He was ascending with Deputy Hartmann--the ropes gave way--Hartmann saved himself by springing on to the last stage but one--Herr Berkow was carried down into the depths. No one knows how the accident happened, but it cannot be concealed. Prepare her ladyship for the news, I must go."

He hastened after Arthur, while Windeg turned back into the room, where his daughter met him in a state of great excitement.

"What have you heard, papa? The face of that messenger of woe spoke of something more than a mere injury. What has happened?"

"The worst," said the Baron deeply moved. "But a few minutes ago, Eugenie, we were uttering bitter accusations against the man, now all our hatred and the enmity between us are over. Death has smoothed them away."

CHAPTER XIV.

The first solemn weeks succeeding the accident had pa.s.sed by, but that sense of oppression, which rests upon every house of mourning, had not yet been dispelled; it made itself even more keenly felt now that all the busy arrangements, the visits and condolences, were over. There had been no lack of outward marks of sympathy. Berkow's position, his numerous acquaintances and large connections made his death an event of importance. The cortege which followed him to the grave, including, of course, all the officials and workmen on the estate had been of endless length. Cards and letters strewed the heir's writing-table, and the whole neighbourhood came to pay visits to his wife. Every attention was shown to the young people; it was felt that, so far as they were concerned, there were no "prejudices," as Baron Windeg had diplomatically expressed it, to be overcome.

The loss cut no one to the heart, perhaps not even the dead man's only son, for whom he had done so much. Where all esteem is wanting, it is not easy to love. But it would have been hard to decide whether Arthur were deeply moved by his father's death or not. The composure he showed in the presence of others led to the belief that he had not been seriously affected by it, and yet, ever since the catastrophe, he had been almost solemn in his gravity, and had become inaccessible to all with whom he was not necessarily brought into relations. Eugenie's calm could surprise no one who knew anything of the circ.u.mstances. Her hatred, like her father's, had died out, certainly, at Berkow's death; any other sentiment towards him had been out of the question with her, and, unfortunately, her views in this respect were shared by many who had but too good cause for such a state of feeling.

The officials had been too often wounded by the arrogant and unconciliating behaviour of the man who, having made his own way up in the world, looked upon their knowledge and abilities as so many wares to be at his absolute disposal, in consideration of the salary paid; they could have no deep regrets for the loss of a princ.i.p.al who cared little either for character, personal qualities, or individual talent, but was exclusively bent on extracting the greatest possible amount of service from each in his separate capacity.

Among the workmen a still worse temper was noticeable; they showed an utter absence of all feeling, they were moved neither by sympathy nor compa.s.sion. Whatever reproaches Berkow had earned, he had incontestably proved himself to be an industrial genius of the very first order. By his own efforts he had raised himself from poverty and lowliness to the height of prosperity--had called into being operations on so grand a scale as to vie with any in the land--had won for himself a position which he might have used as a blessing to thousands. He did not so use it, had not been willing to do the good he might, and, therefore, through all his belongings, throughout his vast establishment, a deep breath of relief was drawn when his sudden death became known. "Thank G.o.d!" was the thought unexpressed, but felt by all, and in this manner judgment was pa.s.sed on his memory.

Whether the inheritance of such a life and all that it had sown year by year were, in reality, as desirable as appearances suggested, shall not here be decided. However that might be, its first effect on the young heir was to lay on his shoulders such a heavy burden of care and business as, according to the general opinion, he was of all men least fitted to bear. He had, it is true, officials for each separate department, representatives and authorised agents, but the very fact that his father had thoroughly understood how to keep them all in subjection to himself and under his sovereign control, made the present need greater, the absence of the guiding eye and hand of the master himself more keenly felt. The son had now to take the reins in hand, and, before ever he could do so, the significant shrugs of all his dependants showed their unanimous judgment, or rather condemnation, of him. They were all of one mind as to this: he was to be counted on for nothing, or next to nothing.

The entire staff of officials was a.s.sembled in the committee-room, awaiting the arrival of the new proprietor who had convoked the meeting for this hour. Any one who saw these gentlemen's irresolute disturbed countenances, some of which bore traces of real anxiety, would have been convinced that more important matters were on hand than the mere formal introduction of the heir, now that the first days of mourning were over.

"That was a blow," the Director was saying to Herr Schaffer, who had come out from the city, "the very worst that could have happened to us!

We knew long ago what they were concerting and planning among themselves, and the same thing is going on now on all the neighbouring works. We could see it coming, and we should have taken some precautionary measures, but now, just at this juncture! It places us altogether at their mercy."

"Hartmann has chosen his time well," put in the chief-engineer bitterly. "He knows what he is about in going ahead like this, without waiting for the other works. The master gone, all the affairs in confusion and at a standstill, the heir incapable of any energetic action--now is the very time to push his claims! I always told you this Hartmann would be a thorn in our flesh. The people are not ill-disposed; we cannot blame them for wanting to secure for themselves safety in the mines and the necessaries of life. They have held out under oppressive circ.u.mstances as no others have, and they would have made reasonable demands which might have been granted. That which they want to dictate to us now under their present leader pa.s.ses all belief.

It is a regular revolt against all existing inst.i.tutions."

"What will the young gentleman do.'" asked Wilberg, rather timidly.

Among these helpless, anxious men, he was most helpless, most anxious of all.

"What, under the circ.u.mstances, he can't help doing," returned Herr Schaffer, gravely. "Agree to whatever they ask."

"Excuse me, he cannot do that," cried the chief-engineer. "There would be an end of all discipline, and before the year is out he would be a ruined man. At any rate, I should not remain on any works where that course was adopted."

Schaffer shrugged his shoulders.

"And yet there is hardly any alternative left him. I have told you already that things are by no means so brilliant with us as they appear to be. We have had losses of late, very heavy losses. On every side there have been deficits to cover, sacrifices to make, and, with all this, so many engagements to meet.... In short, we have nothing to reckon on but the actual returns from the works. If they remain idle for a few months, and we cannot carry out the contracts we have undertaken for the year, then--it is all up with us."

"Something of this must have got wind among the hands," said the chief-engineer, thoughtfully, "or they would not have dared to show so bold a front. But they know full well that what has once been conceded can never be recalled. Hartmann will strain every nerve to gain his end, and if, owing to the stress of circ.u.mstances, he should really succeed!... What said Herr Arthur when you acquainted him with the state of his affairs?"

It was noticeable that none of the officials even spoke of him as Herr Berkow or as their princ.i.p.al. They seemed not to be able to a.s.sociate such terms with their late master's son. They called him Herr Arthur or "the young gentleman," as they had been in the habit of doing. At the last question all eyes were turned on Schaffer.

"Nothing," said Schaffer. "'I am obliged to you, Schaffer.' That was all. But he kept the papers, which I had taken with me for his edification, and shut himself up with them. I have not spoken to him since."

"I spoke to him yesterday evening when I had to submit to him our people's demands," said the Director. "At the first mention of the bad news, he turned deadly pale, but he listened in silence without answering a syllable, and when I gave him a few words of counsel and encouragement, feeling sure that it would end in a consultation, he sent me away. 'He wished first to consider the matter alone.' Imagine, if you please, Herr Arthur considering! This morning I received instructions to summon you all to a conference."

The old sarcastic lines showed round Herr Schaffer's mouth.

"I am afraid I can tell you the result of our conference beforehand.

'Consent to everything, gentlemen, give way unconditionally, do what you like, only make sure that the works are kept going for the present.' And then he will make the announcement that he is going back to the city with her ladyship, and intends to leave matters here to Providence and to Herr Hartmann."

"But blow after blow is falling upon him just now!" broke in Wilberg, taking the part of the absent with chivalrous warmth. "A stronger man than he might well succ.u.mb."

"Yes, weakness always finds sympathy from you," said the chief-engineer, derisively. "But, during the last few weeks, you seem to have had a very decided leaning in the opposite direction. Herr Hartmann was in the enjoyment of your special friendship. Do you still rave about him?"

"Good Heavens, no!" cried Wilberg, with almost a look of consternation.

"I have felt a horror of the man ever since--ever since Herr Berkow's sudden death."

"So have I," said the chief-engineer shortly, "and so, I suppose, have we all. It is revolting to have to treat precisely with him, but when there are no proofs, one does well to be silent."

"Do you seriously believe then in the possibility of a crime?" asked Schaffer lowering his voice.

The Director shrugged his shoulders.

"At the inquest, they only proved the fact of the ropes having given way. They may have given way of themselves; whether it really was so or not, can only be known to Hartmann. As I said before, the inquest brought nothing to light, and there certainly would have been no just grounds for suspicion had any other man been his companion. This fellow is capable of anything."

"But, remember, his own life was in the greatest peril. He saved himself by a spring, which was a daring feat not one in ten could have attempted, and which, a.s.suredly, not one in ten would have made successfully. He must have expected to go down with the other and be dashed to pieces."

The chief-engineer shook his head.