"Tell me nothing rather," broke in the old man bitterly. "I should not believe you, and the others would not believe you either. You were always savage and prone to use violence. You would have felled your best friend to the ground in your wrath. Try it, go among your mates and say to them: 'It was nothing but an accident.' There is not one of them who will believe you!"
"Not one?" repeated Ulric, hoarsely. "And you doubt me too, father?"
The Manager fixed his dimmed eyes on his son.
"Can you look me in the face and declare that you were in no way to blame for the accident, in no way? that you"----he did not finish the question, for Ulric had not been able to bear his gaze. The eyes, which a minute before had flashed with anger, now sought the ground, a sharp quiver passed over him, he turned away and--was silent.
A great stillness fell upon the room. Nothing was heard but the old man's heavy breathing. His hand trembled, as he passed it across his brow, and his voice trembled still more, when at last he spoke in a low tone.
"Your hand was not near? Whether it were your hand precisely, or however it may have come about, they are all of opinion, thank God, that inquiries are useless, and that nothing can be proved, at all events in a court of justice. Settle it with yourself, Ulric, as to what befell down below, but don't bully your mates any more. You were quite right. They have been afraid of you since then, and nothing else. See how long you can manage them with fear alone."
So saying he went out. Ulric made a rapid movement as though about to rush after him, but stopped suddenly, striking his forehead with his clenched fist, while a sound like a suppressed groan escaped his breast.
Ten minutes may have passed before the door was again opened and Martha came in. Her uncle was gone, and Ulric lay back in the arm-chair, his head buried in his hands. That did not appear to surprise her much; she cast one glance at him, then went up to the table and began to put together her work. Ulric had raised himself as she approached. He stood up now slowly and went over to her. In general, he paid but little heed to the girl's doings, and would still less trouble to speak to her of what concerned herself. But now he did both these things.
Perhaps a moment had come when even his reserved unbending nature longed for a word, for a token of sympathy, at a time when all fled from him, all avoided him.
"So you and Lawrence have made it up?" he began. "I have not spoken to you about it yet, Martha, I have had so many other things in my head of late. Are you engaged?"