class="normal">He was still trying to stanch the blood, and was actively aided therein by Martha, whose face betrayed anxiety so unmistakable that it must have struck even Ulric, had not his eyes been turned in quite a different direction. Long and gloomily he gazed after the party which had just left him. Clearly his thoughts were taken up by something far other than the pain of his wound.

As the old man was placing a temporary bandage on his son's bleeding brow, he noticed that Ulric still held the lace handkerchief in his hand.

"That cobweb," said he, with unusual bitterness, "that embroidered cobweb would have been a great deal of use to us! Give it to Martha, Ulric, she can restore it to her ladyship."

Ulric looked down at the dainty little thing which lay so softly between his fingers; as Martha stretched out her hand for it, he raised it quickly and pressed it to his wound, staining the delicate lace a deep red.

"What are you about?" said his father, half-astonished, half-angry. "Are you going to stop up a hole in your head an inch deep with that thing? I should think we had handkerchiefs enough of our own."

"Yes, yes, I did not think what I was doing," returned Ulric shortly. "Let it be, Martha, it is spoilt now any way!" and, so saying, he thrust it into his blouse.

The girl's hands, which had been so busy, fell down idly all at once, and she stood by while the Manager adjusted and secured the bandage. Her eyes were fixed wonderingly on Ulric's face. Why had he been in such a hurry to spoil the pretty thing? Was it because he did not want to give it back?

The young miner certainly possessed no special aptitude for the rôle of a sick man. He had shown himself very impatient of the services rendered him, and it had needed all his father's authority to induce him to submit to them. Now he stood up and declared emphatically that it was enough, and that he must be left in peace.

"Let him alone, an obstinate fellow!" said the Manager. "You know well there is nothing to be done with him. We shall hear what the doctor says. You are a pretty sort of hero, Ulric! You would not lend a helping hand with the arch built in honour of the family; on no account, it would be demeaning yourself! but you can throw yourself under the horses' feet when they are running away with the said family, without one thought for the old father who has nobody in the world but his son to look to! You don't mind doing that! Ah! that is being what you call 'logical' in your new-fangled speech. Now, you lads who follow your lord and master in everything, it will do no harm this time if you take example by him."

With these words, through which, spite of their disguise of assumed grumbling, the pride he felt in his son and his tender love for him showed all too plainly, the old man seized Ulric's arm and led him away.

CHAPTER IV.

Evening was drawing on. The festivities on the Berkow estates had been participated in by the bridal pair, and, so far at least, had attained their end. After the happy termination of that perilous incident which had so nearly compromised the whole proceedings, the original programme had been strictly adhered to. The young couple, everywhere in requisition during the afternoon, found themselves at last at home, and left to each other's company. Herr Schäffer had just taken his leave, he was to return to the elder Herr Berkow in the city the following morning; and the servant, who had been busy with the arrangements of the tea-table, now disappeared in his turn.

The lamp on the table shed its clear mild light on the pale blue draperies and costly furniture of the little salon, which, like all the other rooms in the house, had been newly and splendidly decorated for the reception of the new mistress, and formed part of the suite appropriated to her use. The silk curtains, closely drawn, shut from it the outer world; flowers filled the stands and vases, perfuming the air, and on a table before a little sofa stood the silver tea-service ready for use. In spite of all the splendour, it was a perfect little picture of domestic comfort.

So far, at least, as the boudoir itself was concerned; but the newly married couple hardly seemed as yet to appreciate its home-like charm. The bride, still in full dress, stood in the middle of the room musing, and holding in her hand the bouquet which Wilberg, in Martha's stead, had had the happiness of offering her. The scent from the orange-blossoms engrossed her attention so completely, that she had none left for her husband, and he certainly made no very vigorous claim upon it. Scarcely had the door closed behind the footman, when he sank into an armchair with an air of exhaustion.

"It is enough to kill one, this making a show of one's self for ever! Is not it, Eugénie? They have not granted us a minute's respite since yesterday at noon. First the ceremony, then the dinner, then a most fatiguing journey by rail and post, which went on all through the night and forenoon of to-day, then the tragic episode; here again a reception, presentation of officials, dinner.... My father did not remember evidently, when he sketched out the programme, that we possess anything like nerves. I own that mine are completely unstrung!"

His wife turned her head and cast a very contemptuous glance at the man, who, in his first tête-à-tête with her, could talk of his nerves. Eugénie did not appear to have much knowledge of such ailments; not a trace of fatigue was to be seen on her fair face.

"Have you heard whether young Hartmann's wound is dangerous?" asked she by way of answer.

Arthur had exerted himself to make an exceptionally long speech; he seemed surprised that it had obtained so little notice.

"Schäffer says it is nothing," he returned indifferently; "he has spoken to the doctor, I think. By the by, we shall have to make the young fellow some sort of recognition. I shall commission the Director to see about it."

"Ought you not rather to take the matter into your own hands?"

"I? No, pray spare me that! I hear he is not a common miner after all, but the son of the manager, a deputy, or something of the kind. How can I tell whether money, or a present, or what would be the proper thing to give him? The Director will manage it admirably."

He let his head sink into the cushions again. Eugénie answered nothing; she sat down on the sofa and leaned her head on her hand. After the pause of a minute or so, it seemed, however, to occur to Herr Arthur that he owed his young wife some attention, and that he could not possibly remain silent and buried in his arm-chair during the entire hour the tea-drinking would be supposed to last. It cost him an effort, but he made the sacrifice and actually rose to his feet. Going over to his wife, he seated himself by her side, took her hand and even went so far as to attempt passing his arm round her. But it was only an attempt. With a quick movement, Eugénie drew her hand out of his and retreated from him, casting a glance at him like that which, yesterday in church, had so spoiled his father's first embrace. There was the same cold haughty repulse in her look which said better than any words: "I am not to be approached by you, or any like you."

But this high disdainful manner, so imposing to the father, proved less so when employed towards the son, probably because the latter was no longer to be awed by anything. He appeared neither intimidated nor disconcerted at this evident show of repugnance, but merely looked up with some faint surprise.

"Is that disagreeable to you, Eugénie?"

"It is new to me at least. You have