to come to their rescue.

"Don't you hear?" repeated his father impatiently.

"I thought I was hired to work in the mine, and not here at a triumphal arch. Is not it enough that we should have to mount guard in this place? Let those who built the thing set it to rights again."

"Can't you forget the old tune for one day?" cried the old man angrily. "Well then, one of you go up and see to it."

The miners all looked at Ulric, waiting for a sign of assent from him. As none came, they did not stir; one man only made a move, as though he would respond to the summons; the young leader turned silently and looked at him. It was but a single glance from the imperious blue eyes, but it had the effect of command. The man stepped back at once, and no other hand was raised to help.

"I wish it would fall on your obstinate heads," cried the Manager hotly, as he mounted with quite youthful activity and tied up the flag-staff himself. "Perhaps that would teach you how to behave on such a day as this. You have spoilt Lawrence already amongst you; he used to be worth something, but now he only does what his lord and master Ulric directs."

"Ought we to be so overjoyed that a new set of fine masters is coming?" said Ulric in a low tone. "I should have thought we had had enough of the old!"

The Manager, still busy with the flag, luckily did not hear this speech; but the young girl, who had stood silent on one side, turned hastily and cast an anxious look upwards.

"Ulric, for my sake!"

At this injunction the defiant young miner held his peace, but his features did not soften by a shade. The girl remained standing before him; she seemed to hesitate, having something to say and not liking to say it. At last she spoke in a low tone, half questioning, half entreating.

"So you really will not come to the fête this evening?"

"No."

"Ulric!" ...

"Let me be, Martha, you know I can't bear your dancing nonsense."

Martha stepped back quickly, her red lips pouting, and a glistening tear in her eyes which sprang even more from anger than from wounded feeling at his unfriendly reply. Ulric either did not notice it, or did not care; indeed, he seemed to trouble himself but little about her. Without wasting another word, the girl turned her back on him, and crossed over to the other side.

The eyes of the young fellow, who just before had been willing to help with the flag, followed her intently. Evidently he would have given much that the invitation should have been addressed to him. He, assuredly, would not have rejected it so cavalierly.

In the meantime, the Manager had come down, and was reviewing his work with much satisfaction, when the first volley burst forth from the hill opposite, followed, at short intervals, by another and another. As was natural, these signs that the expected visitors were approaching at last, produced some excitement. The gentlemen assembled out yonder became suddenly animated.

The Director hurriedly inspected all the preparations for the last time; the chief-engineer and Herr Schäffer buttoned their gloves, and Wilberg rushed over to Martha, probably to ask, for the twentieth time, whether she were sure she knew his verses, and would not endanger his triumph as a poet by inopportune shyness. Even the miners betrayed some interest in the young and, as it was said, beautiful bride of their future master. More than one drew in his belt, and pressed his hat more firmly on his head. Ulric alone stood quite unmoved, erect and disdainful as before, and did not even cast a glance over at the other side.

But the reception, prepared with so much thought and care, was to turn out differently from what had been hoped and expected. A cry of horror from the Manager, who was now standing outside the great arch, drew all eyes in that direction, and what they saw was certainly terrible enough.

CHAPTER III.

Down the steep road which led from the village, came, or rather flew, a carriage, the horses of which, startled probably by the salutes fired, had shaken off all control, and were careering wildly down the hill. The carriage rocked to and fro on the uneven ground, and was in imminent danger, either of being thrown down the precipitous incline to the right, or of being dashed to pieces against the great trees which bordered the road on the other side. The coachman seemed to have lost all presence of mind. He had let fall the reins, and was clinging desperately to his seat, while from the hill behind, the gunners, prevented by the trees from seeing the accident they had brought about, crashed forth report after report, spurring the terrified animals on and on in their mad course. What the fearful issue must be, was only too plainly visible. At the bridge below a catastrophe would be inevitable.

The people assembled before the house did what crowds mostly do on such occasions. They screamed, ran helplessly hither and thither, but it occurred to no one to give that practical help which was so urgently needed. In that moment upon which everything depended, not one, even among the miners, had the courage, or the quick wit, to rush forwards. Yes, there was a single exception, one man who preserved his self-possession! To take in the whole danger at a glance, to thrust aside his father and comrades, and to spring out from among them, was for Ulric the work of an instant.

In three bounds he had reached the bridge; a scream of horror from Martha rang out after him--too late! He had already thrown himself before the horses and had grasped the reins. High in the air reared the affrighted creatures, but instead of stopping, they set out with fresh fury, dragging him along with them. Any other man must have been thrown to the ground and trampled under foot, but Ulric, by his giant strength, succeeded, at last, in getting the mastery. A tremendous pull at the reins, on which he had never slackened his hold, made one of the horses stagger and lose its footing. It fell, and in its fall, dragged the other down with it. The carriage stopped.

Ulric went up to the door, confidently expecting to find its occupants, or at least the lady, in a swoon. According to his notions, that was the usual condition of fine ladies and gentlemen who found themselves exposed to any danger; but here, when, if ever, a fainting-fit might have been justifiable, there was absolutely nothing of the sort. The lady stood upright in the carriage, holding to the back seat with both hands, her eyes, fixed and dilated, still intent on the chasm before her, where the journey would, probably, next minute have come to a frightful end; but no sound, no cry of alarm, escaped her firmly closed lips. Ready, if it came to the worst, to risk springing out, an attempt which, however, would certainly have proved fatal, she had looked death in the face silently and without shrinking, with how thorough a sense of the peril incurred, her countenance showed.

Ulric seized her quickly and lifted her out, for the horses struggling on the ground, and striving wildly to free themselves, were still dangerous. It only took a few seconds to carry her over the bridge; but, during these few seconds, the dark eyes were fixed steadfastly on the man who, with such disregard of his own life, had almost thrown himself under her horses' feet. Perhaps it was all too unusual a sensation for the young miner to bear in his arms a burden clothed in silken sheen, to feel waving round him, fluttering over his shoulder, a gauzy white veil, for as his eyes rested on the beautiful pale face which had made so brave a stand in the moment of danger, a bewildered look passed over his