The youth looked up, startled by the strange, pained tone which he heard for the first time, and the defiance which was about to break forth again died on his lips.
"Because I have no pet names and caresses for you; because I have raised you with seriousness and firmness, do you doubt my love?" said Falkenried, still in the same voice. "Do you know what this severity toward my only, my beloved child has cost me?"
"Father!"
The word sounded still timid and hesitating, but no longer with the old fear and awe; it now contained something like budding faith and trust; like a happy but half-comprehended surprise, and with it Hartmut's eyes hung as if riveted upon his father's features. Falkenried now put his hand upon his son's arm, drawing him nearer, while he continued:
"I once had high ambitions, proud hopes of life, great plans and aspirations, which came to an end when a blow fell upon me from which I shall never be able to rally. If I still aspire and struggle, it is from a sense of duty and because of you, Hartmut. In you centers all my ambition; to make your future great and happy is the only thing which I yet desire of life; and your future can be made great, my son, for your gifts are extraordinary ones; your will is strong in good as well as evil. But there is yet something dangerous in your nature, which is less your fault than your doom, and which must be taken in hand in time, if it is not to develop and dash you into destruction. I had to be severe to banish this unfortunate tendency; it has not been easy for me."
The face of the youth was covered by a deep blush. With panting breath he seemed to read every word from his father's lips, and now he said in a whisper, in which the suppressed joy could scarcely be hidden:
"I have not dared to love you so far. You have always been so cold--so unapproachable, and I----"
He broke off and glanced up at his father, who now put his arm around Hartmut's shoulders, drawing him still closer to him. Then eyes looked deep into eyes, and the voice of the iron man broke as he said, lowly:
"You are my only child, Hartmut, the only thing which has remained to me from a dream of happiness that dispersed in bitterness and disappointment. I lost much at that time and have borne it; but if I should lose you--you--I could not bear it."
His arms closed around his son tightly, as if they could never be detached. Hartmut had thrown himself sobbing upon his father's breast, and father and son held each other in a long, passionate embrace.