[THE SHADOWS GATHER.]
In a first-class carriage of an express-train from Berlin sat Bernhard Eichhof. Upon his return quite late from a ball, he had received the despatch informing him of Lothar's sudden death. He had spent the rest of the night in writing a letter to Julutta Wronsky and several others to political associates, and was now hastening to his home by the early train. He had scarcely found it possible to believe the sad tidings brought by the despatch. Lothar dead!--Lothar, whom but a few weeks previously he had left in the pride of youth and strength, a picture of blooming health. And yet the despatch left no room for doubt. He thought of every possible accident that could have befallen Lothar. He saw before him his brother's smiling merry face, and the thought that he was to look upon it cold and stiff in death seemed to him inconceivable. In Berlin the hurried preparations for his departure had scarcely left him time to appreciate his loss.
But now, during his lonely ride, with Lothar's image constantly before him, now he first comprehended how near this brother had been to him, and how terribly he should miss him. In the consciousness of his position as the future head of the family, upon whom the others must more or less depend, Bernhard had developed, when quite young, a certain liking for the part of a protector,--a part that became him excellently well, because he was naturally warm-hearted and good-natured. And precisely because Lothar had so constantly appealed to him for aid, and, in his lack of self-dependence, had always turned to his brother in his troubles, he had grown very, very dear to Bernhard. Lost in melancholy reflection, he leaned back in a corner of his coupé, without bestowing the faintest notice upon two ladies who had entered the coupé just after him. He had closed his eyes in his revery, and had entirely forgotten his travelling companions.
Suddenly the name of 'Eichhof,' uttered by one of the ladies, aroused his attention.
"Is the member of the Reichstag your son-in-law's neighbour?" the other lady asked.
"Yes; Rollin is in the midst of a very aristocratic neighbourhood," was the reply. "Good heavens, the Barons von Hohenstein have lived upon the estate for hundreds of years, and all the neighbours are old noble families,--my daughter's surroundings will be really 'feudal.' It is well to give one's children an education that fits them for any rank in life. Only a few days ago Count Dornat said to me, 'Your daughter, the Baroness von Hohenstein, is a charming woman.' And my son-in-law is delightful. Indeed, my dear, it is really a model marriage. Between ourselves, many an aristocratic family might take example by it,--these Eichhofs, for instance."
Bernhard, who had ceased to pay any heed to the speakers, now listened again.
"Is it possible, Frau Kohnheim, that the Eichhofs----" Thus the conversation continued.
Frau Kohnheim said in a low voice a few words that Bernhard could not understand, and then went on, in a louder tone, "Yes; I was at Rollin a couple of weeks ago with a Berlin upholsterer to see to the furnishing there, and the housekeeper from Eichhof was paying a visit to our housekeeper,--I mean to my son-in-law's housekeeper,--and I learned all about it from her. The young Countess at the castle was an innocent young creature at first, but she has grown to be very different, especially since her husband has been away. Only fancy such a young woman's giving entertainments to which the young men for miles around are invited, while a young unmarried brother-in-law of the Countess plays the part of host! And he is in garrison only half a mile from Eichhof, and of course is there constantly. So there you have a young man and a young woman alone together in the country in a big castle, and you may imagine what it must lead to!"
"Good heavens! how can the Count be so thoughtless as to allow it?"