Part 2 (2/2)

”Thanks, my lady, but that will not serve us much,” said the Manager, who had come up, and now laid his arm round his son's shoulder. ”Keep still, Ulric!” and he drew out his own strong linen handkerchief, and applied it to what appeared to be a deep wound in the head.

”Is it dangerous?” languidly asked Arthur Berkow, coming over to the spot accompanied by the other gentlemen.

With one push Ulric freed himself from his father, and he stood erect, his blue eyes gleaming more darkly than ever, as he answered roughly:

”Not in the least. n.o.body need trouble themselves about it, I can take care of myself.”

The words had a disrespectful sound, but the recent service he had rendered was too great for any one to find fault with them. Herr Berkow seemed relieved that the answer spared him any further trouble about the business.

”I will send the doctor to him,” said he, in his quiet indifferent way, ”and we will reserve our thanks for another time. At present, there seems to be a.s.sistance enough. Will you not come, Eugenie?”

His wife took the arm he offered her, but she turned her head once again, as if to a.s.sure herself that the required succour was really there. It seemed as though she did not quite approve of the way her husband treated the matter.

”Our whole reception is a failure!” said Wilberg to the chief-engineer a few minutes later, as, quite dispirited, he joined the others in escorting the proprietor's son and his bride to the house.

”And your poem into the bargain!” joked the person addressed. ”Who can think now of flowers and verses? Really, for any one who believes in omens, this first home-coming can hardly be called promising. Deadly peril, wounds and bloodshed! there is something romantic in it, just in your style, Wilberg. You should write a ballad about it, only this time you would have no choice but to take Hartmann for your hero.”

”And what a bear he is after all!” said Wilberg excitedly. ”Might he not have said a word of thanks to Lady Berkow when she offered him her own handkerchief? And then he replied to Herr Arthur in such an ill-mannered way. But the fellow has the strength of a giant! when I asked him why, for goodness sake, he had not put a bandage on sooner, he answered curtly that he had not noticed the wound at first. What do you say to that? He gets a blow on the head which would have stretched one of us senseless, and he first tames the horses, carries the lady away from the carriage, and only awakes to the fact that he is wounded when the blood rushes down in a stream. I should like to see any one else who could do it!”

The miners had gathered round their comrade in the meantime, and much dissatisfaction was expressed among them at the way their future master had behaved to him. It seemed to give them great offence that he should have, for the time being at least, eluded all expression of grat.i.tude.

Many dark looks, many cutting remarks pa.s.sed; even the Manager wrinkled his brow, and, for a wonder, uttered no word in Arthur's defence.

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 ladys.h.i.+p.”

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 apt.i.tude for the role 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 n.o.body 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 a.s.sumed 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.

<script>