Success and How He Won It Part 32

"But there is the old fear. He rules with it more despotically than ever; and, besides, you do our men a wrong in supposing they would desert their comrade, their leader, just on a mere suspicion. They may be shy of him, may fall off from him in time; but the moment we were to attempt to touch him, they would rally round and protect him at all hazards. No, no; it won't do. The very thing we want to avoid, a b.l.o.o.d.y conflict, would be inevitable then: and more than this, I am convinced Herr Berkow would not lend a hand to it."

"Does he still guess nothing of the suspicions which are afloat?"

"Nothing. No one has cared to allude to the matter before him, and I think it will be best to spare him further. He has enough to bear as it is."

"Yes, more than enough; and the evil tidings of the last few weeks, together with Schaffer's letters from the city, seem to have produced some effect upon him. I believe he is seriously thinking of giving way."

"Nonsense," said the chief-engineer. "Before announcing that ultimatum to the people, he had the alternative of risking his money or of submitting to Herr Hartmann's rod while it might please that worthy to chastise us; after the way he met them then, there could be no further question of giving in. Every trace of authority would be gone irretrievably, if he did not show a steady front now. He _must_ go forward, and it is always an advantage in battle to feel that there is nothing for it but to advance boldly."

"But if his fortune is at stake?"

"But if his honour is at stake?"

The two then fell into one of those heated and fruitless debates which commonly ended in each retaining his own opinion. This was the case now when they parted shortly afterwards.

"Neutrality is a fine thing!" growled the chief-engineer after his colleague, as he turned into his house. "Just a little proper anxiety, a little proper caution, keep fair with both parties, because you never can tell which may get the upper hand at last I wish all the sneaks--Wilberg, what the deuce are you about there with my daughter?"

The two young people, at whom these words were levelled, sprang apart as though they had been detected in a crime. But in truth, Herr Wilberg had only ventured to kiss the young lady's hand in the most innocent manner possible. He was looking so tender, however, and Melanie, for her part, was feeling so moved, that the advent of her father, already vexed and irritated by his talk with the Director, came upon them both like a thunderbolt.

"I must entreat your forgiveness," stammered the luckless clerk; while Fraulein Melanie, conscious that, after all there was nothing so very wicked in allowing one's hand to be kissed, stood by unabashed.

"I beg you will give me an explanation of all this," said the chief-engineer angrily. "What are you doing down here in the hall? Why don't you go up into the drawing-room, which is the proper place for you?"

The explanation thus demanded could hardly be given in two words, though the young people had been guiltless enough in the matter of this meeting. Wilberg had gone up to his superior's house with a commission from Herr Berkow in his head, and deep melancholy at his heart. The latter was naturally called forth by the departure of his liege lady.

He had heard that this departure was intended on the evening before it actually took place, and the knowledge of it had not roused him from his dreams on the fatal morning. The young clerk was no early riser, and would never have committed the imprudence of exposing himself at that hour to the cold foggy air, which might have brought on an attack of rheumatism.

It was not he who, at break of day, was standing under the pines there where the high road turned into the forest, patiently waiting for the one minute in which the carriage would roll by, for the one look at a face within, which, after all, was looked for in vain, for it lay, with closed eyes, buried in the cushions, and altogether hidden from view.

As he, who had so waited, pa.s.sed under the young poet's windows on his way home to the Manager's house, Herr Wilberg was still in the enjoyment of undisturbed repose. That, however, did not prevent his feeling unutterably wretched on his awakening, and the whole week through he bore himself with an air of such profound melancholy, that Fraulein Melanie, meeting him accidentally in the hall, could not help asking him compa.s.sionately what ailed him.

The unhappy lover was just in the humour to unburthen himself to this sympathising listener of his long-pent-up woe. He sighed several times; made a few vague allusions, and, of course, ended by pouring out his whole heart, to receive, equally, of course, a still warmer show of sympathy in return.

If the young lady had felt curious before, she was touched beyond all expression now. She thought the story beautifully romantic, and poor Wilberg worthy of her sincerest pity. It was, therefore, in no way disconcerting to her when, at the end of all these disclosures and comfortings, he seized her hand and imprinted on it a grateful kiss.

There could not be the slightest danger that he would ever love another!

And now the master of the house broke in on this touching scene with all the prose of his paternal authority, and demanded to be told why these outpourings of the heart took place in the hall, and not upstairs in the drawing-room, where her mamma's presence would naturally have acted as a restraint upon them. Herr Wilberg, feeling that a great wrong was being done to him, shook himself together and managed to explain.

"I have a commission from Herr Berkow."

"Oh, that is different. Melanie, go upstairs; you hear it is a business matter."

Melanie obeyed, while her father remained standing at the foot of the stairs, not inviting his visitor up as usual. The latter was therefore obliged to discharge his errand on the spot.

"All right," said the chief-engineer calmly. "The plans in question are at Herr Berkow's disposal; I will take them up to him. And now, Herr Wilberg, a word with you. In spite of our mutual antipathy, I have always done you full justice." Herr Wilberg bowed. "I look upon you as a capable official." Herr Wilberg bowed again. "But I consider that you are a little crazy."

The young man, just in the act of bowing for the third time, started up suddenly erect and stared at his interlocutor in speechless amazement; the other went on imperturbably:

"With regard to your mania for scribbling, I mean. That is no business of mine, you would say? I should hope it is not. You have alternately sung the praises of Hartmann, of her ladyship, and of Herr Berkow. You are quite at liberty to do that, if it pleases you; but don't take it into your head to sing about my Melanie. That I forbid. I won't have such nonsense put into the child's head. If your poetical feelings are in want of a fresh object, take me or the Director; we are quite at your service."

"I think I shall decline that," said Wilberg, highly affronted.

"As you like; but remember, my daughter is not to be trifled with. If ever a poem 'To Melanie,' falls into my hands, I shall be down upon your iambics and your alexandrines, or whatever the nonsense is called.

That was what I had to say to you. Good-bye."

With that this ruthless personage turned his back on the poet, whose finest susceptibilities he had so cruelly wounded, and walked upstairs.

In the sitting-room his daughter met him.

"O papa, how could you be so hard and so unjust to that poor Herr Wilberg? He is so miserable."

The chief-engineer laughed out loud.

"Miserable! He? He is a miserable scribbler, that is what he is, always stringing abominable verses together; and the more one tries to make him understand it, the more madly he insists upon rushing into rhyme.

As to that kiss"----

"Good gracious, papa! you are entirely mistaken," interrupted Melanie, very decidedly. "It was only out of grat.i.tude. He is in love with Lady Eugenie Berkow, and has been, quite hopelessly, of course, ever since she was married. It is natural he should feel wretched, and that her going away should drive him to despair."

"Oh, so it was his wretchedness and despair which made him kiss your hand. Odd, very. But how do you know all this, Melanie? You seem very well informed about this fair-haired minstrel's love affairs."

The young lady raised her head with an unmistakable air of self-complacency.

"I am his confidant. He has poured out his whole heart to me. I tried to comfort him, but he will not be comforted; he is far too miserable for that."

"Here is a pretty story!" cried the chief-engineer, highly incensed.

"So it has gone as far as that already, has it? Outpourings of the heart and attempts at consolation! I should not have thought that Wilberg was so clever. He, who speculates on the pity of you women, is pretty sure to--but we will put a stop to the thing at once. In future, you will be so good as not to listen to such confidential communications. They are most improper. As for the consolation business, I forbid it, once for all. I will take good care that he does not set his foot in the house again, so there's an end of it!"

Melanie turned away, pouting. Her papa showed no great knowledge of mankind when he fancied that, with his dictatorial fiat, he had really put an end to the matter and laid the spectre, which had suddenly risen up before him in the guise of a verse-making, guitar-playing son-in-law. He ought to have known that, now for the first time, Fraulein Melanie would seriously resolve upon offering any consolation in her power to the poor misunderstood Wilberg, whenever an opportunity of doing so should occur, and that Herr Wilberg would that very evening sit down to compose a poem "To Melanie." Such matters are not settled by the mere words, "It is not to be, so there's an end of it."

CHAPTER XXI.

The day was drawing to a close. The sun, as it went down, broke through the gathering clouds once more with a bright crimson glow which flooded woods and hills with a brief transitory splendour. Only for a few minutes; then the great red ball of fire sank slowly below the horizon, and with it disappeared all the brilliancy and colour which it had lent the earth for one fleeting moment.

Arthur Berkow had just opened the iron gate which gave egress from the park, and stepped outside. There he stood still, arrested by the sight before him, and gazed long and sadly at the departing sun. His countenance bore the expression of that perfect calm for which he had so striven, but it was not the confident calm of a man who, having victoriously thrown off one weakness, girds himself up for fresh endeavours.

He who stays behind on a sinking ship, and sees disappear in the distance the boat which is bearing all he prizes on earth away to safety and the far-off coast, while the ship itself drives helplessly nearer and nearer the rocks on which it must inevitably perish, such a one may hold out with unflinching courage, but he can be light-hearted no more. When the last hope has fled, there comes a great hush. He is able and ready then to meet the worst; and it was this stillness which lay on Arthur's features. He had dreamt his dream, and the days at hand were such as to require a full and complete awakening.

He crossed the meadow, and took the direction leading to the officials'

dwelling-houses. The broad ditch, full of water, which ran along the upper end of the park, pa.s.sed through this meadow-land; but, in place of the graceful little bridge which spanned it higher up, there was here only a simple plank, strong and safe enough, but so narrow as only to afford room for one pa.s.senger at a time. Arthur stepped on to it quickly, and had advanced a few steps, when he came suddenly to a stand before Ulric Hartmann, who appeared to recognise him at the same moment. Berkow stood still, supposing that the Deputy would retreat and allow him to pa.s.s; but the latter thought possibly the time had now arrived for that provocation to which the chief-engineer had alluded.

Whether he really were trying to force on a conflict, or only obeying the instincts of his own rebellious nature, he stood motionless, and made no sign of giving way.

"Well, Hartmann, are we going to stand still like this?" said Arthur quietly, after he had waited a few seconds in vain. "The plank is too narrow for us both; one of us must go back."

"Must I be the one?" asked Ulric, sharply.

"I should think so."