The Eichhofs: A Romance

Thus Thea felt that the following of her mother's example was quite impossible here; and she was equally conscious that her small occupations were far from sufficient to fill up her days. As she was too proud, however, to admit to any one that she was discontented, she said nothing of this to her parents or to Alma.

"They cannot help me," she thought, "and why should I trouble them? Let them believe me perfectly happy."

One day she was sitting in the bow-windowed room, vainly endeavouring to concentrate her thoughts upon a forget-me-not that she was painting upon a china cup. These same thoughts would fly off to Bernhard, and she wondered, as she did perpetually, whether there was no way in which she could be nearer him, could share his interests, and really live with him instead of only at his side. She was interrupted by a visit from her father, who often came to Eichhof at this time.

When Herr von Rosen entered his daughter's room she joyfully bade him welcome, and took from him a package of books that he had under his arm.

"Books for Bernhard," he said, as Thea opened the bundle and began to arrange the volumes. "Nothing for you, my dear; nothing but treatises on agricultural matters, and descriptions of just such factories as he is now building."

Thea bent over the books with great interest. "And why should they be nothing to me, papa?" she asked. "Is it impossible for me to share Bernhard's interests?"

The tone of the question was so peculiar that Herr von Rosen looked at his daughter in surprise. "Impossible?" he repeated. "Oh, no; women can do a great deal if they choose." And, as he stood by his daughter, he suddenly put his hand beneath her chin, lifted her face to his, and looked into her eyes. "What is it you want, Thea? Ah, tears in your eyes! Then the matter is serious. What is it?"

Then Thea broke down; she had always made a confidant of her father in the old days, and her reserve had been hard to maintain. She threw her arms around his neck, and they sat down together on the small sofa in the corner. Here father and daughter had a long and earnest talk, and when they arose from it Thea's eyes and cheeks glowed, and there was a mysterious smile as of a secret understanding upon Herr von Rosen's lips as in his subsequent conversation with Bernhard he frequently glanced towards his daughter. It was arranged that Thea should go oftener than had been her wont to Schönthal, – that she should drive over at least twice a week, since Frau von Rosen's health did not at present permit her to leave the house. Bernhard gave his consent to this willingly, as he was obliged to be absent from home so much himself.

"He will not miss me," thought Thea; "he would rather talk with his superintendent than with me." But this thought did not sadden her to-day. Her eyes sparkled, and there was a certain resolute expression on her face that seemed to declare, "All this shall be different."

Two days afterwards she drove over to Schönthal and spent the whole day there. She took with her one of the books which her father had brought for Bernhard, and when she came home in the evening another package of books accompanied her. At some distance from Eichhof, Bernhard came riding to meet her. Thea blushed and stood up in the carriage, – he had missed her, then, after all!

But that did not prevent her from going to Schönthal again the next week. Meanwhile, Herr von Rosen came frequently to Eichhof, where he took long rambles with his daughter through the fields and farms, and had prolonged conversations with her on the small sofa in her favourite room.

Thus several weeks passed, until one day Thea begged her husband to let her go with him to the factory, which was now roofed in, and where the machinery was just being set up.

"Yes, my child," he said, "come if you choose, but it will bore you terribly. I have so much to attend to about which you know nothing."

She smiled, and put on her hat and gloves to accompany him.

It was a lovely warm afternoon. The little open carriage flew along the broad road, but Thea made no observations upon the beauty of the sunset or the misty colours of the distant forest, although she saw and enjoyed both. She knew that Bernhard's thoughts were occupied with far other topics, and her questions bore such evident reference to these that his replies, at first vague and constrained, soon altered their tone. He was so absorbed in these interests of his that he had no time for surprise at his young wife's sudden accession of knowledge, but at least he made no objection when, upon arriving at the factory, she prepared to accompany him in his tour of inspection. She listened attentively to all that the workmen had to tell, examined the machines, and now and then asked questions, which the machinists answered eagerly, and which so astounded Bernhard that he several times found himself looking inquiringly at her as if to make sure that it really was his 'May-rose' who was discoursing so learnedly of machines, and water-power, and steam-power. He himself had never been so absent-minded before upon a visit here. Scarcely were they seated in the carriage again on their homeward way when he turned to her and asked, "For heaven's sake, tell me, Thea, where you learned all this?"

She laughed merrily. "Learned what?" she asked, in her turn. "I have but the merest superficial knowledge of these things."

"But a short time ago you had no idea of them."

She gave him a look from her large dark eyes that was half saucy, half entreating. "Will you not try me and see whether I have not some more 'ideas' perhaps, and take me with you oftener?" she asked.

"Good heavens, Thea! I was only afraid of boring you."

"And you thought I had better be bored at home alone than in your society?"

"Have you been bored at home?"

"Very nearly; but just at the right time something pleasanter occurred to me."

"And that was?" he asked, when she paused.

"And that was, – guess what."

"Good-evening, Bernhard; good-evening, Thea," a joyous voice called out very near them, and Lothar galloped up, followed by a second horseman in uniform.

Lothar had in fact been transferred to a regiment of hussars stationed in the neighbourhood of Eichhof, but he had been sent until lately to a distant garrison, and had but just arrived at the small town near by.

"I am making my first formal neighbourly visit to you," said Lothar, riding close up beside the carriage, while the other horseman also approached and saluted Bernhard and Thea.

"Lieutenant Werner is my stay and consolation in my present Gotham," said Lothar, as the carriage proceeded slowly, escorted by the two riders; "he knows Berlin as well as I do, and we exchange reminiscences."

Lieutenant Werner smiled. "Yes, it was hard enough at one time to be away from Berlin, but I am very well content now to be in R-."

"And what of your studies, Herr von Werner?" Thea asked. She was already acquainted with the young officer, and knew that he was interested in science.

"Ah, madame, there is much to be desired in that direction," he replied.

And Lothar called out from the other side of the carriage, "He lives like a hermit, Thea; but I hope to spoil his books for him."

"You will hardly do that," said Werner.

"Nonsense, my dear fellow! 'All printed stuff is dull and gray, the tree of life is ever green and gay,'" Lothar declared, in a rather free paraphrase of Goethe. Then he turned to talk with Bernhard about his horses, while Werner rode by Thea's side until the carriage stopped at the gateway of the castle.

"I am so glad to see you here; I hope you will come often," Thea said, as she got out of the carriage and offered her hand to Lothar.

Lothar kissed it, and replied, "I am only afraid of coming too often, Thea; so let us have it settled in the beginning that if I come to Eichhof as often as I have the time and desire to come, you will turn me out if I come at the wrong time."

Thea laughed. "I agree," she said. "You shall at all events have a room always ready for you, and plenty of almond-cakes."

"Oh, you have not forgotten what I like best. Bernhard, your wife is an angel!"

"I knew that long ago," Bernhard said, with a laugh, as he led his guests into the bow-windowed room, where the servants were just lighting the lamps.

"I must set Werner afloat," Lothar said, in the course of conversation; "to-day we call here, to-morrow at the Wronskys, the day after to-morrow-"

"Are the Wronskys at home?" Thea interrupted him. "I thought they were travelling."

"They have been back for two weeks," Lothar replied. "I saw her at a dinner at the Schönburgs'. She is really a very charming and interesting creature. I was not half so much pleased with her at first as I am now. They tell all kinds of stories about her, but-"

"What are the stories about her?" asked Thea.

"Nonsense, Lothar!" Bernhard interposed, as his brother was about to give his version of an on dit. "Why repeat silly stories, which no one will vouch for, and of which every one has a different version? The lady is now Marzell Wronsky's wife; he is our neighbour, and for his sake we ought not to repeat such reports."

Thea looked at her husband in surprise. He had so often expressed his dislike of this woman, and yet he was suddenly so eager in her defence.

She said nothing, however, because she suspected that it would be better not to have these 'reports' retailed at her table, and Werner, who thought he detected a shadow of annoyance on her countenance, said quickly, "The lady's conduct certainly is at present perfectly correct, and she is very interesting in conversation. I lately took her in to dinner somewhere, and I was amazed to find how much she had seen of the world. She is perfectly familiar with Europe, and has been to Palestine and spent a winter in Cairo besides."

"Did you not envy her?" said Thea, to whom Werner had formerly confided his great love of travel, and the fact that with all his economy he could only contrive to take a short journey every other year.

"Just a little," he replied; "but we had one memory in common of one of her smallest journeys and of my largest one. After the Paris Exposition she went to Trouville."

"You were there too, Bernhard, and just at that time," said Thea.

"Oh, there must have been many people there at that time of whose existence I was entirely unaware," Bernhard said, hastily; but something in his tone of voice and in the expression of his face struck Thea, and, little prone as she was to suspicion, the thought occurred to her, "He knew her."

"Of course, society at Trouville is so mixed," said Werner, "and so various, that it is impossible to know every one. Frau von Wronsky seemed not to have enjoyed her stay there very much."

"Naturally." Thea turned to her husband. Had he spoken the word, or had she been mistaken?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I said nothing," he replied.

"Heavens, Thea, you have an entire agricultural library here!" Lothar exclaimed at this moment. He was never quiet long, and while the others had been conversing he had been walking about the room on a tour of discovery in search of new books or pieces of furniture. He was now standing before a pretty open set of book-shelves, from which he took several books and brought them to the table. "Since when have you been perusing works upon drainage, irrigation, and plans for factories?" he asked, laughing, and pointing to the titles of the volumes.

Thea blushed, and piled the books together. "Don't be so rude as to disarrange my books, Lothar," she said, as she took up some to put them away again.

But Bernhard detained her. "Thea," he said, "now I understand where your 'ideas' came from. Have you really been studying all this tiresome, dry stuff, and was this what you meant the other day when you declared that you had discovered an excellent antidote for ennui?"

"Why, of course, I wanted to be able to talk about all these things with you, and to know something at least of what is absorbing your thoughts," she said, with a still brighter blush, forgetting for the moment both her guests and Frau von Wronsky, as she noted the expression of her husband's eyes. The next instant she turned away, with a laugh, to rearrange her books.

Bernhard looked after her with an emotion that he would have found it difficult to express: never had she seemed to him so enchanting, so charming, as at this moment. Lothar laughed; Lieutenant Werner looked grave, and, when Thea again joined the group around the table, gave her a glance of intense admiration.

A servant announced that tea was served in the dining-hall, and thither the party repaired.

Thea tried to lead the conversation to the Wronskys again, but Bernhard persistently changed the subject whenever they were alluded to.

"Why is it so disagreeable to him to hear that woman talked of?" Thea said to herself.

It was tolerably late when the two officers took their leave, but Thea was not at all tired, and while Bernhard accompanied them down into the hall, she fetched a large photograph book, in which were the photographs of all the landed proprietors of the neighbourhood, with their wives, and when Bernhard returned he found her lost in contemplation of Frau von Wronsky's face.

"I am glad they are gone, Thea," he cried, more quickly and merrily than was his wont to speak, "for now I can thank you as I should for reading all those books for my sake. I know you did it all for love of me, my darling."

He drew her tenderly towards him; but although his words would have made her perfectly happy a few hours before, she now returned his kiss rather coldly, and said, -

"Good heavens, it was not much to do; it really interested me very much, and papa explained everything to me that I did not understand. But," she added, without explaining the strange sequence of ideas, otherwise than by pushing forward the book of photographs, – "tell me, Bernhard, did you not know the Wronsky at Trouville?"

"What put that into your head?" asked Bernhard, thrusting the book aside. "I told you before-"

"You spoke of many people, Bernhard, but you did not say that you did not know her."

Now Bernhard smiled. "Oh, you women!" he exclaimed, drawing his wife towards him. "Well, since you are developing such a talent for diplomacy, you may learn that I certainly did have a distant acquaintance with her, but that she belonged to a circle that makes it very desirable that I should ignore all former acquaintance with her whatsoever. Yes, I owe it to Marzell Wronsky to preserve entire silence with regard to that time, and all I can tell you is that she did not so conduct herself as to lead me to regard her as a fit associate for you."

"Why, what did she do?"

"She was very imprudent, my child. But pray let us drop this subject; we neither of us care anything about her, and I have told you what I have because I know you are no gossip and would rather help me to keep the secret of my former acquaintance with her than prevent me from doing so. You now know that my only reason for silence as to my ever having seen her before is a reluctance, for her husband's sake, to being questioned with regard to her former life."

"Yes, Bernhard, but-" Thea hesitated, and hid her face in her hands, although Bernhard could see her forehead and neck flush crimson.

"But? What is it that you want to know?"

"Bernhard," she whispered, still covering her face, "tell me truly and really, were you never in love with her?"

"Never!" he exclaimed, drawing down her hands.

"Look in my eyes, Thea, while I tell you that I never cared for this woman, and never had any association with her whatever."

"Thank God!" she whispered, drawing a long breath of relief.

CHAPTER XII.

ANOTHER PROMONTORY COMES IN SIGHT

The long summer days as they passed were happy indeed for Thea, and all the more cloudless and sunny because of the absence at a watering-place of the old Countess Eichhof.

The young wife had wellnigh forgotten the shadow that had been cast upon her path for a moment by the figure of Frau von Wronsky, and she was no longer in the least jealous of the old superintendent, for she was now Bernhard's daily companion and her advice and opinion were eagerly sought for. Bernhard was almost as inexperienced as herself in the management of an estate, and, since she had more leisure and less ambition for distinction than he, the old superintendent sometimes declared that the Frau Countess really understood matters better than the young master. Lothar frequently occupied his room at Eichhof, rode Bernhard's horses, ate almond-cakes, and entertained his comrade, Werner, with accounts of his sister-in-law's constantly increasing beauty. Werner seldom came to Eichhof, but when he did come, Thea always had much to tell him. She read the books that he recommended to her, and he was the only one who seemed to take any interest in Walter. Thea corresponded with her youngest brother-in-law, and hoped in time to be the medium of reconciliation between him and Bernhard, who made no objection to this correspondence, although he refused to listen to Walter's letters. Lothar was not so decided in his antagonism towards his younger brother, but he yawned whenever Thea spoke of him, and so she was driven to seek sympathy solely from her father and from Werner. Each listened attentively to all she had to say of Walter, for, although Werner did not know him personally, the young fellow's pluck and determination interested him greatly.

In all things else perfect harmony existed between Thea and her husband. And yet these sunny summer days were not long cloudless. For some time it had seemed to the superintendent that his master's enthusiasm was on the wane. "It will increase again," he thought at first, but before long he began to shake his head over the state of affairs. At last Thea too noticed that Bernhard was often out of sorts and not so actively employed as heretofore. The reason for this was to be found not in outward circumstances, but in Bernhard himself. He had, it is true, had many disappointments, and had encountered many obstacles, but what especially galled him was the reflection that he was not turning his talents to sufficient account. When, young as he was, he entered upon his inheritance he had determined to effect extraordinary results. In his ardour for accomplishment he had forgotten that there must be a certain knowledge acquired for such accomplishment, and now he could not but frankly confess to himself that he had really done very little, that those in his employ had been the real workers and had understood matters far better than had their master. There had been much outlay of capital also, and it was questionable whether this outlay had always been judicious.

"I fritter away my powers of mind in too many directions," he said to Thea one day, "and I fear I am not precisely fulfilling my vocation. I attempt to be architect, mathematician, grazier, and ever so many other things besides, and I know that I am really none of all these, and do not indeed desire to be. I fancied the management of a landed estate to be something vastly more important."

"But it certainly is a fine thing to arrange and to create as you are doing," Thea replied. "I feel proud as we drive through the meadows, where your will has transformed what was unprofitable land into green grassy fields."

"Yes, I am pleased with that too, but in fact I have had very little to do with it; others have done it for me, and would have done it as well without me."

Thea sighed; she was so content, and she had been so proud of this very industry of Bernhard's that he was now depreciating.

Then Lothar came to Eichhof one day and reported that several of the most respectable citizens of R- had asked him whether he thought that his brother would accept a nomination for the Reichstag. Bernhard knew that there had been some such proposition talked of in official circles, and he had cherished the idea, since he was the largest landed proprietor in his district, and the seat that it commanded would fall vacant just when he had completed his twenty-fifth year and was thus eligible for a nomination.

"I know that some of our neighbours are thinking of you, too," said Lothar; "and you will see, when you come to the Diet-assembly to-morrow, that you will be offered the nomination."

Bernhard's eyes sparkled. "I confess that the possibility occurred to me," he replied. "Hohenstein said something about it the other day; but I'm afraid that the ultramontane candidate has the only chance."

"That's a question," said Lothar. "Herr M-, it seems, has some blots on his scutcheon, which his opponent will use to the best advantage; and since Wronsky, in view of his Polish ancestry, I suppose, is to be their second candidate, there will hardly be a due amount of enthusiasm among the ultramontanists, since he is, to my certain knowledge, a very lukewarm Romanist. And, besides, you, with all your dependants here, have more votes at your disposal than any one of them."

"I never would force my people to vote against their own convictions."

"Nonsense! If they are not convinced that their master is the fittest man to represent them, let them find another master."

"Now you are talking just like Hohenstein," said Bernhard, laughing. "Did you not discuss a bowl of punch together last night while he explained to you his views upon the coming election?"

"You're right as far as the punch goes, Bernhard, but as for the views, they are my own, and I think you owe it to the good cause to accept the nomination, since every one says that you have by far the best chance to defeat the ultramontanist."

"Well, we shall see how matters look to-morrow at the Diet," said Bernhard.

"You will be there, at all events?"

"Of course."

Thea had hitherto listened in silence. "Bernhard," she now said, suddenly, "if you were elected you would have to go to Berlin in the autumn."

"Possibly."

"But, Bernhard, you know-" She leaned over him and whispered a few words in his ear.

"No need to trouble ourselves about it, my child," he replied. "In the first place, my nomination is entirely uncertain, not to speak of my election-"

"But you would accept it?"

"Good heavens! I really do not know. 'Tis a matter for grave reflection."

He tried to convince himself that he had come to no decision, and he was nevertheless exulting in his inmost heart at the thought of political activity. Politics were assuredly fitted to employ all his powers, to call forth all his energy. Here was a field in which a man could gratify his ambition and achieve prominence without the petty labour, the commonplace effort required by the management of an estate.

Lothar, usually so slow to reflect and to draw conclusions, was clearer-sighted than Thea in this matter. He knew that his brother would accept this nomination, while the young wife hoped to induce him to decline it. She had taken great pains to fit herself to share in her husband's present interests, and she was proud that she had succeeded. What possibility was there of her gaining any insight into politics, when that was to take place in the autumn which would prevent her from accompanying her husband to Berlin?

There was no room for doubt upon the subject, however, by the evening of the next day, when Bernhard came home, accompanied by the Freiherr von Hohenstein, who presented her husband to Thea as "our future member for the Reichstag, madame."

"Bernhard?" she exclaimed, in involuntary alarm.

"Certainly not member yet," said Bernhard: "but the confidence reposed in me by my old friends and neighbours is so flattering, dear Thea, that I could not do otherwise than accept the nomination with thanks."

"Nonsense! your election is a certainty," said Hohenstein; "leave that to us. I'll have no one in my service or on my land who does not vote with me; nor shall those who do not vote with me be benefited by my bounty during the winter. Every man of them has something to gain from us, and must do our pleasure if he hopes to retain our good will."

"But, papa," cried Adela, who had ridden over to Eichhof to meet her father, "you must not send Jusak away. He is the best groom we ever had, and keeps my mare in such beautiful trim; besides, he rides superbly. Only a week ago the poor fellow was groaning over the coming election, because his wife is such a terrible scold and the most devout Catholic in the entire village, always going twice to church every Sunday and holiday. He says his vote must cost him either dismissal from your service or a terrible row at home that will last he cannot tell how long."