CLOUDY WEATHER AT EICHHOF.
Several months had passed since Count Eichhof's death. The Countess had
withdrawn to her dower-house, about half a league distant, whence,
however, she drove over at least once every week to complain of the
miserable condition of her present abode. She witnessed, with a
resignation made apparent amid many sighs and tears, the alterations
effected by her son and her daughter-in-law in Eichhof. She found it
perfectly right and proper that Bernhard should be master there, but
that Thea--"that insignificant little girl," as she called her--should
have usurped the position so lately her own, was more than she could
understand or endure.
It required all Thea's gentleness and amiability to enable her to
endure her mother-in-law's visits, and her task was made none the
easier by Bernhard's passing almost the entire day out-of-doors. The
Freiherr von Hohenstein, who had found the son quite as accommodating a
creditor as the father had been before him, said that Bernhard was
"launching out tremendously," which was his way of designating the
restless energy with which Bernhard had entered upon the duties of his
new position.
It was not in vain that the young man had so often heard from his
mother that his position would be one of unusual distinction, and that
he himself was endowed with extraordinary powers of mind. He was
convinced that much, very much, was due from him to himself and to his
position, and his head was so crammed with ideas of the reform that was
to be effected in the management of his estate, that he could not waste
an instant before beginning to carry them out in action. His father had
employed clever agents, and had left all the farming to their care,
prudently aware that he was quite ignorant of rural economy; but
Bernhard was determined to see to everything himself, to have every
operation conducted under his own eye. An unfavourable crisis in the
business world had greatly depreciated the iron-works on the Eichhof
estate. Bernhard determined to indemnify himself for the loss of income
in this direction, and to this end established various extensive
factories. Eichhof was to be a model estate in every respect.
It must be confessed that results by no means kept pace with his
purposes, and his orders, issued as they were with autocratic decision,
produced terrible confusion when, as frequently happened, they were
hostile not only to traditional customs, but to especial existing
arrangements. His bailiffs would gravely shake their heads at the young
Count's excessive though praiseworthy energy, and slight differences
would arise, which were, however, speedily adjusted by his personal
amiability and the rare kindliness of his manner towards his inferiors.
Owing to his personal qualities, and to the influence of his old
superintendent, whose faithful attachment to the Eichhof family knew no
bounds, Bernhard suffered no losses of any significance, and was saved
from the disastrous results that might have ensued from his ignorant
interference in all sorts of affairs connected with the estate.
"He is hardly more than a boy, but he'll come all right," the old
superintendent would declare. "Others lose their money at cards or on
the race-course, we waste some on these 'useless improvements;' but
there's enough left after all, and it will all come right with time.
The Count has not lost his head, but the sudden possession of such an
estate and such an income has confused it a little, that's all. He is
so young."
Thea sometimes sadly missed her idyllic Thiergarten home, but in her
secret soul she was proud of Bernhard's untiring energy, and thought it
only natural that he should have but little time to devote to her,
since, as she had been educated to think, wealth entailed many duties
upon its possessor.
What she did regret was that, even when he came home to her, it was
often with a clouded brow. He could not forget even in her presence the
business of the day. She told herself that this was also quite natural;
he must take more interest in these important and weighty matters than
in her small joys and sorrows. Nevertheless, she felt a certain void in
her life, which could not be filled either by her domestic occupations
or by her intercourse with her parents or with Adela Hohenstein. Adela
was friends with Alma again, and had promised to be very quiet and
good; but it is to be feared that she was a sad romp still at heart.
Thea laughed and gossiped with the girls, as she had always done, but
somehow she did not seem really to belong to them any longer.
Thus the winter passed, and Easter came again. Lothar and Walter both
came to Eichhof at Bernhard's invitation, but the holidays were very
different from those of the previous year. Lothar's debts amounted to
such a sum that Bernhard, who now needed all his money for his
improvements, declared that he would never again pay one penny for his
brother, and would help him now only upon condition that he would have
himself transferred from Berlin to his native province, where the
cavalry regiments were scattered about in small garrisons and there was
not so much opportunity to spend money. Willy-nilly, Lothar was obliged
to agree to this condition, since he was utterly powerless to extricate
himself from his financial embarrassments without his brother's aid,
and was only too grateful to be helped out of a scrape once more.
"I believe you are the only one who has any real compassion for me,"
said Lothar one day to Alma Rosen, with whom he had been left alone in
his sister-in-law's boudoir. "You pity me, do you not?"
"And so does Thea," Alma replied, a little embarrassed, as she always
was with Lothar; "but then she is glad too, for she thinks that you
will be near us--that is, near Eichhof--in your new garrison."
"Well, yes, that would be the best thing that could happen to me," he
said, smiling. "And Thea is glad? That's very good of her. You both
have excellent hearts, you and Thea, but your father and mother, you
know, look upon me as a terrible black sheep."
Alma was silent, and looked out of the window. She could not deny the
truth of his assertion, and she would not have admitted it for the
world.
Then Lothar, in default of any other occupation or amusement, proceeded
to give Alma a short lecture upon himself. "Pray don't turn your eyes
so resolutely away," he began; "indeed, I am not quite such a black
sheep as I am called; only I cannot, somehow or other, manage my money
affairs. It's contrary to my nature, and nobody ever taught me how to
do it, and yet when I go all wrong every one is vastly surprised. Now,
my dear Alma, is not that perfectly unjust? There's no denying that
money in itself is a very low, vulgar thing, and consequently only
common men can manage it properly. I like beautiful things, and never
want to ask their cost. I enjoy, and I like to share my enjoyment with
others, without pausing to consider its price. I bask in the sunshine
and consider the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, who
never count the cost and yet continue to live. Suddenly a black cloud
thrusts itself between me and the sun, and a perfect hail-storm of
unpaid bills comes pelting down upon me, while all my dear friends and
neighbours join in a chorus of 'You are not worthy to enjoy the
sunshine, for you never remember that twice one are two.' Oh, yes, my
dear Alma, life is very hard, especially when one is so alone in the
world as I am. Yes, if I had a wife as gentle, wise, and lovely as your
sister Thea, something might be made of me after all. I might become a
really respectable member of society."
It was perhaps quite as well that Thea's entrance interrupted the
conversation at this point; and half an hour later Lothar was making
preparations for his departure, whistling an opera air, and with as
little thought of the pelting storm of unpaid bills which his brother
was sure to convert to sunshine as of Alma's sweet serious face. The
girl meanwhile sat by herself in the bow-windowed room, and would have
fervently prayed heaven to send Lothar a wise and gentle wife like
Thea, if only her heart would not have throbbed so loud and fast in its
protest against any such petition.
Adela Hohenstein came running in and roused her from her dreams. "Here
you sit lonely and forlorn as an enchanted princess in her tower gazing
drearily from her window in hopes of a glimpse of some princely
deliverer!" she cried, laughing. "Good heavens, how stupid and quiet
Eichhof is, when one compares it with what it was awhile ago!"
"How can you talk so, Adela? You know they are all in deep mourning;
any entertainments are quite out of the question," said Alma, conscious
that just now she would infinitely prefer her solitude to Adela's
society.
"Oh, I don't mean that," exclaimed Adela; "but just fancy, I came all
the way up-stairs without meeting a living soul except the servants,
whose faces are so long and solemn since the funeral that it gives one
the horrors to look at them. What in the world has become of the entire
Eichhof family?"
"Thea is walking in the park with her mother-in-law, Lothar is getting
ready to leave Eichhof, and Walter is having a talk with Bernhard. They
have been closeted together for more than an hour."
"So Lothar is packing up? Then the bomb-shell has burst, and Bernhard
has turned him out. You need not deny it, my dear, I know all about his
debts; Hugo told papa of them to console him. And what is to be done
now?"
Alma told all that she knew, but Adela listened with only half an ear.
"What is Walter discussing with Bernhard?" she asked, suddenly.
"I am sure I cannot tell."
"Something is going very wrong with Walter," Adela observed; "he is
altogether too solemn. I used to have so much fun with him; but when he
paid us a visit the other day it was like the shock of a shower-bath,
he was so changed. Lothar, who had far more reason for being grave and
solemn, was very merry and amusing, while Walter--but indeed, Alma, you
must have seen yourself how fearfully stupid and tiresome Walter has
grown to be."
Alma had not noticed Walter's increase of gravity; what she did observe
at this moment was the arrival before the hall door of Lothar's
travelling-carriage.
She looked anxiously towards the door through which Lothar entered to
take his leave, just as the Countesses Eichhof returned from their
walk. Judging from the countenance of each, their _tete-a-tete_ had not
been of a very edifying nature. Bernhard and Walter also made their
appearance, and were quite in harmony with the rest of the party, for
they looked irritated and discontented.
"Good-morning to some and good-by to others, in most admired
confusion," said Adela, offering her hand right and left, and
exchanging greetings and farewells, until Lothar's carriage had carried
him away.
The Countess wiped her eyes with her lace handkerchief, and pitied in
one breath her "dear Lothar, who is such a fine fellow after all," and
her "beloved Bernhard, who has so much worry and vexation on his
brother's account." And finally she clasped Walter in her arms,
declaring that he would never be anything but a blessing and comfort to
every one. Whereupon Bernhard instantly left the room, closing the door
after him with unnecessary violence, whilst Walter looked the picture
of dejection.
"Ah! all joy has fled from this household," sighed the Countess, with a
reproachful glance towards her daughter-in-law, who was silently
bending over her embroidery-frame.
"Upon my word," whispered Adela to her friend, who looked quite cast
down by Lothar's sudden departure, "it is too terrible here to-day. If
you do not want me to order round my carriage instantly, ask Walter to
take a walk with us."
"He does not look as if he wanted to take a walk."
"No matter; ask him, or I will go immediately."
Walter made no objection to going, and the three young people left the
bow-windowed room. Thea looked after them with entreaty in her eyes, as
though to detain them, but they paid her no heed, and she turned again
to her work with a resigned face, resolved to endure in silence the
further unavoidable _tete-a-tete_ with her mother-in-law.
It was not destined, however, to last long on this occasion, for in a
very few minutes Herr von Rosen's light wagon drove up; he had come for
his daughter Alma. Thea hastened to meet him, and brought him in
triumph into the room, which was instantly illumined as by sunlight by
the old man's genial smile, the brightness of which called forth a pale
reflection even on the old Countess's sad face. No human being could
remain unresponsive to Herr von Rosen's cordiality. It was so easy to
see that his kindliness was not the result of conventional habit, but
was due to the genuine warmth of a noble heart, that it cheered and
refreshed every one around him.
"I knew that I should find you here," he said, turning to the old
Countess, "for I stopped on my way hither at your cottage, and they
told me you were at Eichhof. You have planted new shrubberies around
the house, I see, and the balcony is an immense improvement. The old
house will soon be a charming little retreat."
"Indeed, did you really think it pretty?" asked the Countess. "Good
heavens, it is so plain and simple!"
"I think it charming; and if you find it too quiet, why, you always
have Eichhof, you know. I am so glad to think of you so near here, for
my wife is, as you know, too much of an invalid to drive out very
often, and my dear little daughter will often need counsel and aid in
her new sphere of life. She has learned something already, however, for
her manner of receiving her guests at her last small dinner reminded me
a little of old times at Eichhof. I was proud of you, my little Thea,
and I was sincerely grateful to you for your influence over her, my
dear Countess."
Herr von Rosen put his arm around his daughter's waist, and his frank
blue eyes as he looked at her were full of affection. For the first
time to-day the old Countess really smiled, and also looked kindly at
her daughter-in-law.
Scarcely, however, had Herr von Rosen succeeded in banishing the clouds
from the brows of the ladies, when Bernhard entered with the
threatening of a positive tempest in his face.
"I am very glad to see you to-day, sir," he said, as, after greeting
his father-in-law, he seated himself beside him. "I have arranged
Lothar's affairs after the manner you advised; they are all right: but
now it is Walter's turn."
"Walter? Surely the boy has no debts?"
"No; but I almost wish he had, for then I should know what to do,
inconvenient as it might be for me just at present."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the old Countess, "what is the matter now?"
"You must be told of it, mother, and perhaps there is no better time
than the present for the telling. Walter has gone back to his insane
idea of last year,--in fact, he seems never to have really relinquished
it,--and he has been attending medical lectures in addition to those
upon jurisprudence. He insists that he shall never be worth anything
unless he pursues the study of medicine."
"Impossible!" exclaimed his mother. "I never will give my consent to so
crazy a scheme. Besides, my cousin the ambassador has promised him a
position."
Bernhard made an impatient gesture with his hand. "You know, mother,
that we have already discussed this matter," he said, "and you know
that I have given up all thoughts of a diplomatic future for Walter,
because such a career requires an independent fortune, far larger than
any I could give him. My plan was that he should first become an
assessor, and then a provincial judge somewhere in the country. Thus he
would become entirely independent----"
"But not before many years, and in the mean time he would be called
'Assessor' and 'Circuit Judge,'" moaned the Countess. "You cannot
seriously entertain the idea of your brother's being a circuit judge?
He had better enter the army immediately. Oh, if he only had never
studied anything!"
"The army would have been best, but it cannot be thought of now, and
that is not the question at present; he insists upon studying
medicine."
"Did you tell him it was entirely out of the question?"
"I told him my opinion on the subject, to which, however, he opposed
his own. He declares that he has done his best conscientiously to
comply with our father's wishes, and that it is upon his account alone
that he has silently endured and struggled. He has, he says, been very
unhappy, and is firmly convinced that he shall miss his vocation and
live a useless life if he does conform to these wishes. In short, he
said a great deal to me that sounds plausible enough, but that
nevertheless does not alter the fact that this idea of his of studying
medicine is insanely absurd. I told him that if he persisted in it I
would not help him with a single penny, to which he replied that he had
no intention of applying to me for assistance; he meant that his income
of five hundred thalers should suffice for all his needs, and nothing
would induce him to accept anything further from me. Of course after
this we can have no more to do with each other. He declares that
nothing I can say will have the least influence upon his determination,
which is the result of mature deliberation, and that he does not want
any aid from me. The case is clear, and a breach is unavoidable if
Walter will not listen to reason. He values your opinion highly, sir,
and I thought perhaps you would expostulate with him. I can do no
more."
"Yes, yes, you must talk to him," said the Countess, wiping away her
tears, while Thea looked eagerly at her father, quite undecided whether
to side with Walter or with Bernhard.
"And what in the world can I say to him?" Herr von Rosen asked.
"Certainly, from what I know of Walter, I judge it very unlikely that
he should arrive at any over-hasty conclusions, and I am not at all
competent to overthrow in an hour a resolve that has been the result on
his part of a year of struggle and endurance. Besides, if I did as you
desire, it would be in opposition to my own conviction. Walter is
subjected to the necessity of carving out his own fortunes, of winning
his own means of subsistence. A hard task under all circumstances, why
should we make it harder for him by forcing him to do what he
positively dislikes? The beginnings of every career are arduous enough,
and, since Walter does not possess sufficient means to surround himself
with outward luxuries, it is surely natural that he should covet inward
content. This he can find only in a calling in which he takes a genuine
interest, to which he can cheerfully devote all his powers of mind."
"But how can he do that as a doctor?" wailed the Countess.
There was a slight smile upon Rosen's kindly face as he replied, "Your
son probably wonders how he can do it as circuit judge. It is all a
matter of taste and temperament."
"Oh, don't speak of a circuit judge! If he is to be nothing but that he
may as well be a doctor." The Countess sighed heavily, and, putting her
handkerchief to her eyes, again burst into tears.
"One is certainly as honourable a calling as the other," Rosen said,
calmly.
Bernhard maintained a gloomy silence. Thea gazed at her father with
eyes that understood and appreciated him. His view of the matter was
new to her, but she agreed with him.
Fortunately, the young girls with Walter made their appearance at this
moment, and the conversation was not prolonged before Adela. Countess
Eichhof, finding it impossible to control her agitation, and with very
vague ideas as to what really was Walter's intention, withdrew to bury
with many tears her enchanting dream of Walter as an ambassador.
Adela, who found the air at Eichhof to-day not at all to her liking,
ordered her carriage, and Walter and Alma accompanied her into the
hall. "Oh, I forgot to bring down the book you lent me, Alma!" she
exclaimed, standing on the lowest of the flight of steps. "No, Walter,
you cannot get it; I left it in Alma's room."
Alma good-naturedly ran to fetch it, and Adela looked after her with a
smile.
"I left it there on purpose," she said to Walter; "and I hid it a
little, for I wanted to speak to you one moment alone."
Walter smiled at her small plot, though he shook his finger at her.
"What have you to say to me?" he said, stepping close to her side.
"First, I want to know whether you are still my good friend."
Instead of replying, Walter took out her ring, which he wore on a
ribbon around his neck, and kissed it.
Adela blushed.
"Put it away quickly," she said, with a shy glance around. "No one must
know that you have it, for people are so stupid; too stupid! They could
not understand. But what I really wanted to ask was why you are so
terribly serious and quiet. Has anything gone particularly wrong?"
Adela's blue eyes were so near Walter's face that his breath stirred
the curls upon her forehead, and she looked at him so earnestly and
kindly that his cheek suddenly flushed, and the voice in which he
answered her was rather unsteady. "I cannot explain it to you now,
Adela. It is a long story, and everything seems to me to be going
particularly wrong just now."
"But I am fairly dying with curiosity; tell me about it, quickly!" she
exclaimed, impatiently.
He shook his head. "Not now; I will come to Rollin to-morrow."
"Ride through the park, then, and I will be waiting for you on the
round white bench near the pond. Some one is always sure to interrupt
us at the house, and you never will be able to finish your story. By
the white bench, then, at eleven o'clock in the morning; I cannot
possibly wait until the afternoon."
She had scarcely issued this _ordre de bataille_, which was given quite
in the tone of a military commander, when Alma appeared with the book,
and Fraeulein Adela drove off, well satisfied with the success of her
plot and with the prospect of Walter's visit.