The other was still gazing over at the trees. Now that the young proprietor's personal influence was no longer felt, he seemed to repent him of his fit of generosity.

"'A hundred to one,'" he murmured bitterly, "and 'I am safe among you.'

Yes! they are never wanting in fine speeches when there is anything that frightens them, and such as we are always ready to catch at the old bait."

"He did not look as if he were frightened," said Lawrence decidedly.

"He is certainly not at all like his father. Ulric, we ought" ...

"What ought we to do?" interrupted Ulric hastily. "To give way, don't you mean? So that you may have peace and quiet again, and that he may go on worse than his father ever did, when he sees he can succeed in everything. If I let him go to-day, I did it because he was not alone, because his wife was with him, and because" ...

He broke off suddenly. The proud self-contained man would rather have bitten out his tongue than have confessed to his comrade what influence had really compelled him to forbear.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Eugenie had ridden on in silence. Perhaps the common danger they had just pa.s.sed through had linked them more closely together, for their horses went on side by side, and Arthur still held Afra's rein, though the widening path would now have afforded them room enough, though there was nothing more to fear, and all further care of so consummate a horsewoman was plainly superfluous.

"Do you understand the danger of to-day's excursion now?"

"Yes, and also the danger of your situation."

"I must bear it. You see yourself what blind obedience Hartmann can command. One word from him, and they let us ride on; not a man ventured to murmur, yet they were only waiting a sign from him to turn against us."

"But he did not give the sign," said Eugenie emphatically.

Arthur turned the same strange, searching gaze upon her.

"No, not to-day. He knows best what held him back, but it may happen to-morrow, or the next day, or whenever we meet. I am quite prepared for it."

Leaving the wood now, they set their horses into a trot and arrived a quarter of an hour later at the terrace before the chateau. Arthur swung himself from his saddle--with what elasticity compared with his former languid movements! He offered his hand to help his wife dismount. Her face was still deadly pale, and she trembled a little as he placed his arm round her, trembled still more as it held her firmly a second longer than was usual on such occasions.

"Were you frightened?" he asked softly, as he took her arm to lead her into the house.

Eugenie gave no answer. Yes, she had been a prey to mortal terror all through that scene, but she would rather he should think her a coward than let him guess it was for his sake she had felt alarm. A suspicion of this seemed, however, to dawn upon him.

"Were you frightened, Eugenie?" he asked again in soft, low tones, pressing her arm more and more firmly to his breast. She raised her eyes to his, and, once more, saw that bright illumining, more radiant now and more significant than she had ever seen it yet. He bent down to her, as if to lose no syllable of her reply.

"Arthur, I----"

"Baron Windeg and his eldest son arrived half-an-hour ago," announced a servant, hastening forward, and the words were hardly spoken when the young Baron, who had probably been watching for them from the window, rushed down the stairs with all the ardour of his eighteen years, eager to greet his sister whom he had not seen since her marriage.

"Ah, Con, is it you?"

She felt something like a pang at this arrival of father and brother, an arrival for which she had before so earnestly longed.

Arthur had let her hand fall as the name of Windeg was mentioned. She saw the glacial expression which stole over his features, and heard the freezing tone of his voice as he greeted his young brother-in-law with distant politeness.

"Will you not come up with me?" she asked, seeing that he remained standing at the foot of the staircase.

"Excuse me if I ask you to receive your father alone. I had ...

forgotten something which has just been recalled to my memory. I will wait on the Baron as soon as I possibly can."

He stepped back while Eugenie and her brother went up the stairs by themselves. The latter seemed rather surprised, but a glance at his sister's pale face made him suppress the question which was on his lips. He knew pretty well, he thought, how matters stood here. Perhaps during their ride that parvenu had taken occasion to inflict some fresh mortification on his wife. The young fellow cast a threatening look below, and turned to his sister with impetuous tenderness.

"Eugenie, I am so happy to see you again, and you"----

She forced herself to smile.

"And I too am happy, infinitely happy!"

She looked down into the vestibule again. It was empty. Arthur must already have left it.

She drew herself up with a movement of wounded pride.

"Let us go to my father. He is waiting for us."

CHAPTER XVII.

Among the dwellers on the Berkow estates there was probably only one person who viewed the strife, which had so violently broken out between master and men, in any but its most alarming aspect. This person was Herr Wilberg. In that official's foolish young head there lurked so much vague exaggerated romance that he could not help thinking it all highly interesting. His fancy was taken by this situation so fraught with peril, by the knowledge that the low ferment of discontent reigning all around might at any moment explode and bring about a catastrophe.

The admiration he had felt for Hartmann had been promptly transferred to the new proprietor, when the latter had placed himself at the head of affairs, grasping the helm with a vigour which no one expected from so weak and effeminate a hand. But in Arthur's strenuous efforts to make himself thoroughly at home in the new field of labour and to stem the torrent of dangers and losses pouring in upon him on all sides, the superior officials alone were called on to aid by their sympathy and support. The younger members of the establishment enjoyed an involuntary leisure in consequence of the general lull, and Herr Wilberg employed his idle hours in plunging deep into his so-called pa.s.sion for his liege lady, and by doing his very best to feel as unhappy in it as possible.

To tell the truth, this last was somewhat difficult, for he was, in reality, quite in his element and extremely proud of this hopeless attachment. His idea was that love, to be poetical, must of necessity be unfortunate, and a happy affection would have been really embarra.s.sing to him. This adoration from afar suited him perfectly, and he found ample opportunity of indulging in it, for he now seldom or ever saw the object of his idolatry.

Since the day on which he had accompanied Eugenie through the park, he had only spoken to her once. Accidentally meeting him one day, she had tried to learn from him something more definite about the strike then just breaking out. Strict orders had, however, been issued by Herr Berkow to the effect that his wife was in no way to be alarmed, and Wilberg obeyed them so far as to avoid all reference to the actually existing state of affairs; on the other hand, he could not resist giving a faithful description of the scene which had taken place in the committee-room between her husband and Hartmann.

Coming from his lips, the whole history naturally took a dramatic colour, and Arthur, in his suddenly awakened energy, rose to such a pitch of heroism, it was really incomprehensible how such a story could have entirely failed in its effect.

Eugenie had listened, it is true, with evident and eager attention, but she was pale and unusually still while listening; and, when he came to the end, the narrator waited in vain for a word of remark from her lips. She thanked and then dismissed him with cool politeness, and the young man left her, feeling rather surprised and a good deal hurt at such a want of sympathy on her part.

So she too had no perception of the poetical, or perhaps the situation had appeared less imposing to her, from the fact that her husband had been the hero of the hour. Another would very likely have triumphed in this thought, but Wilberg's romantic fancies generally distinguished themselves by the complete reversal of all natural sentiments.

He felt injured that his recital had produced no greater effect. When in Eugenie's company, he was apt to feel something of that glacier-like atmosphere which, according to the chief-engineer, constantly surrounded her. She was so high, so distant, so unapproachable, and never more so than when she condescended to some act of kindness.

In presence of such condescension, no choice was left a man but either to bow down in absolute adoration, or for ever to bear about with him the sense of utter insignificance and nothingness. As the latter alternative could not possibly suit Herr Wilberg, he was fain to choose the former.

Buried in such thoughts as these, he had strolled on in the direction of the Manager's house; it being his habit to look neither to the right nor to the left, he came, as he stepped on to the bridge, into violent collision with a lady who was crossing from the other side. Startled at the sudden shock, she gave a little cry and sprang for safety to one side. Wilberg looked up now, and stammered an excuse.

"I beg your pardon, Fraulein Melanie, I did not see you. I was so taken up with my thoughts, I paid no heed to where I was going."

Fraulein Melanie was the daughter of the chief-engineer, at whose house the young clerk occasionally visited; but his ideas had confessedly taken so high a flight that he had bestowed but small notice on the girl of sixteen who, with the exception of a graceful figure, a sweet young face, and a pair of roguish eyes, had nothing in the least romantic to recommend her.

She was far from his poetical standard, and the young lady, for her part, had up to this time troubled herself very little about the fair-haired Herr Wilberg; she had even thought him rather tiresome. But now he evidently considered it his duty to make reparation for his involuntary rudeness by addressing to her some polite speeches.

"You are coming back from a walk, Fraulein Melanie? Have you been far?"

"Oh no, not far. Papa has forbidden me to take long walks, and he does not much like my coming out alone. Tell me, Herr Wilberg, is all this about our miners really so dangerous?"