For years nothing had excited such universal interest and sympathy in the capital as the explosion in the tower, to which not only the Councillor, but also Franz the miller, had fallen a victim.

Two days had passed since the catastrophe, and in these forty-eight hours the horror and grief occasioned by the death of the millionaire had gradually been replaced by dark reports, alarming the business world, and carrying dismay among the labouring classes. The rich man's name, it was said, represented upon various books many thousands of indebtedness. The councillor had undertaken all the improvements upon his Baumgarten estate at the same time, and consequently only a small portion of their cost had been defrayed. The statement made upon the spot immediately after the explosion by the engineer, and afterwards confirmed by others, began to be widely circulated, and Von RÖmer's debtors asked one another anxiously how the explosive material came to be in the vault just below the chamber containing all his bonds and securities. They did not wait long for a reply. Confidential letters from Berlin, where news of the councillor's terrible death had not yet been received, spoke of immense losses which he must have sustained from the failures in quick succession of various houses there. He had indeed understood as few speculators ever had done how to keep his confidential business friends in ignorance of his money transactions; even the former book-keeper of the factory, whom after its sale he had retained as his private secretary, had no knowledge of his affairs. He had also been able so to dazzle the eyes of those with whom he had dealings by the splendour of the golden cloud in which he enveloped himself, that the dark side of his schemes and speculations never was evident to them. And thus, in spite of these revelations as to his losses, his fate might always have been bewailed as a result of his antiquarian love for the historic powder in the ruins, had he not made the mistake of selecting for his instrument of destruction a modern explosive material. This was the rent in the curtain which let in the light of reality upon the corpse, as Flora had said.

While the town was thus being prepared for the avalanche of ruin which must ensue, certain changes were taking place in the house of mourning. On the first day crowds of friends had hastened to offer their sympathy, and, although every one stepped softly and spoke in whispers, there had ensued in consequence a certain noise and bustle. The second day on the contrary was marked by a profound and gloomy silence, which reigned below- and above-stairs,—all the more oppressive since in most of the rooms the shutters were closed behind the broken panes of glass, causing a vague, uncertain twilight. The Frau President did not yet dream that a second shock was to follow the terrible event in the ruin; all her thoughts were occupied with speculations as to the amount of the immense fortune left by the unfortunate man, and the heir to whom it would fall. With all the egotism of old age her mind had already ceased to dwell upon the dead man himself. The selfishness that animated alike the grandmother and her eldest granddaughter had never been so evident as in this time of trial.

Immediately after her interview with the doctor, Flora had briefly informed the Frau President that her engagement was broken off, without assigning any reason for the fact, and the old lady had shown no curiosity upon the subject, merely rousing herself from her self-absorption for a moment to listen, and then shrugging her shoulders by way of reply. This change in her granddaughter's prospects appeared to her of but small consequence compared with the tragedy which threatened to plunge an aristocratic, high-born woman from a position of princely luxury into all the horrors of straitened circumstances. Flora then withdrew to her own room, and under the pretence of a violent headache denied herself to visitors, spending her time in packing and arranging her effects.

In the servants' hall the day which had been so long looked forward to as the wedding-day was marked by a confusion and subversion of all custom and order, such as only sudden preparations for departure can produce. The reports current in the town had fallen among the crowd of domestics and hangers-on like a bomb-shell, all the more terrifying since some among them on the morning after the disaster had hazarded a suspicion that "matters might not be quite straight." They hourly expected the officers of the law to make their appearance; each one looked out for himself or herself; the long tables set for the ball were stripped of everything eatable, and the bowls of punch were drained to the dregs.

From these regions the first intimation came to the Frau President Urach that her rule in Villa Baumgarten was considered by others as at an end; whereas formerly her first touch upon her bell had been answered instantly, she was now obliged to ring repeatedly—yes, even to call—before her orders were sullenly obeyed. She could hear too how her lap-dog, once caressed by the servants as their mistress's pet, yelped under many a kick slyly administered, while eyes that had been wont to be cast down respectfully in her presence now stared her boldly in the face.

The inmates on the third floor of the villa knew nothing of this changed demeanour on the part of the servants. Henriette had always been kind and considerate; the men and maids had regarded the poor invalid as doomed to death; they had been used to walk on tiptoe in her presence, and to speak in whispers; and in this respect they now redoubled their efforts, since "the Herr Hofrath" had told them that her state at present was critical.

Yes, she lay in her bedroom, scarcely to be recognized except for her marvellously beautiful blue eyes, resigning at last willingly and without a pang her frail weary frame to the dark power that had dogged her footsteps for so many years. She was perfectly conscious that she was dying, and had put away from her with loathing all the gaudy colours with which she had always seemed to hope to borrow a show of youth and health. As if in a snow-drift, she reclined among spotless linen, shaded by soft muslin curtains. She was to be spared the pain of being turned away from her home to seek, according to Flora's arrangement, a refuge in the castle mill. She would be gone before the law in the name of hundreds of anxious creditors laid its hand upon the remains of the fabulous wealth which had been dispersed upon the winds; she was to depart before hearing her brother-in-law's memory branded with disgrace and crime,—his terrible end had loosened her last weak hold upon earth. And her ardent desire was fulfilled: her beloved physician watched over her to her latest breath; he promised that he would remain with her and not go to L—— until she was "much better." Once more she was as happy as she had been in the house by the river; Doctor Bruck watched over her, and Kitty was his aid.—the two people whom she loved most in the world.

Kitty recovered very quickly, leaving her bed on the afternoon of the second day. She wore a narrow bandage about her brow, and the heavy braids of hair, too massive to be worn around her head for the present, hung down her back; but this was all the change that could remind one that the terrible explosion had hurled her to the ground and overwhelmed her with the waters of the fosse, where she must have perished if loving eyes had not sought and loving hands rescued her. Her bearing was as energetic and assured as ever, whatever tempests might assail her soul. In addition to her profound sorrow for her dying sister and RÖmer's tragic fate, the certainty forced itself upon her mind that her guardian was not without blame in what had occurred; Doctor Bruck, to whom she had hinted her fears, had said not one word to contradict them. He was as quiet and taciturn as ever. This might well be the result of Henriette's condition, but there was a peculiar solemnity in his reserve, which seemed also to have infected the dean's widow.

The old lady on the afternoon of the first day had issued from the room adjoining Henriette's, where she had had an interview with the doctor, her eyes full of tears, but evidently agitated by pleased surprise. She had then taken her leave to superintend the removal of various articles of furniture from her home to the doctor's town-house, where she was to take up her abode with her friend until the repairs in the house by the river should be concluded. She came to the villa from time to time to see Henriette for a few moments, always avoiding any meeting with Flora.

The beautiful woman had only come up-stairs once to see Henriette, just at the time when Doctor Bruck had obeyed an urgent request for his presence from the prince. It was strange that she should pass through the room where Kitty lay without even a glance towards the wounded girl, who lifted her head to address her. She left Henriette's bedside and went down to her own apartments without again entering the adjoining room, and Nanni reported that FrÄulein Flora was preparing shortly to leave the house.

Once or twice during the day the Frau President ascended the stairs, a cloud of black crape around her gray head, her countenance troubled, and utterly bereft of that proud composure the maintenance of which in times of trial she had always asserted to be the distinguishing characteristic of a well-balanced mind. She could do nothing but weep and wring her hands convulsively at the terrible change that one moment had made in the villa and its inmates. The exhausted invalid always breathed more freely when the door closed upon the melancholy figure shrouded in black.

On the morning of the third day after the explosion, the old lady suddenly opened the door of Flora's study and tottered across the threshold, holding in her hand a newspaper. Flora was busy writing tickets for her various trunks and packages; she arose, with a foreboding of what was to come, and approached her grandmother, who had sunk into an armchair.

"My four thousand thalers!" she moaned. "Child, child, I have been robbed by scoundrels of my little all, the miserable pittance left me by my grandfather! My four thousand thalers which I guarded like the apple of my eye——"

"No, grandmamma, tell the truth,—your four thousand thalers which you foolishly risked!" Flora interrupted her, harshly. "I warned you, but I was laughed at and scorned because I would not invest my bonds and securities in the same way. The company in which you took stock has failed, I suppose."

"Disgracefully! wickedly! Read that! I shall have hardly fifty thalers to call my own," the Frau President cried, with a failing voice, covering her face with her hands. "But there is one thing I cannot understand," she said, starting up again as Flora was hastily perusing the article in question: "the paper refers to earlier statements; the crash must have come four or five days ago; and Moritz knew nothing of it,—impossible!"

"Might it not have something to do with your not receiving your newspaper a few days since?"

"Ah! you think, then, that our poor Moritz wished to spare me the shock during the marriage festivities, and suppressed the paper? Oh, yes,—of course! And he would have made good the loss to me, I am sure; he himself persuaded me to do as I did. There is consolation in that thought at least, for if necessary I can swear that Moritz assumed the responsibility of my investment; and surely I may hope to be repaid my four thousand thalers from his estate."

Flora tossed the paper upon the table. Regardless as she was wont to be of the feelings of others, in this case she scarcely knew in what words to dispel the illusion under which her grandmother laboured. She had been silent upon this point until now, in hopes that some one of their dear friends from town would undertake the task of enlightening the Frau President; but the dear friends had absented themselves; on the previous day not one had been near the villa, and now she must speak herself. She could not permit her grandmother to expose herself to ridicule by this inconceivable want of all suspicion of the truth.

"Grandmamma," she said, in an under-tone, laying her hand upon the old lady's arm, "the first thing to be considered is the possible value of the estate to which you allude."

"Oh, my child, only look out of the window and you will acknowledge that the payment of my poor four thousand would scarcely be felt by the heir, whoever it may be. Even if the enormous capital employed by Moritz in his business operations be lost in consequence of the destruction of his books and papers, the real estate and personal property which he owned will amount to a handsome fortune." She sighed sadly,—"I should be thankful indeed if I were his acknowledged heir."

Flora shrugged her shoulders. "You might never come into possession——"

The Frau President started up. "Are you mad, Flora? Weak as I am, I would run for hours, and fast for weeks, if I might thereby win the right to claim this inheritance. It is incredible that fate should be so cruel! I, I, in my position, to be thrust forth from the house that owes its splendour, its aristocratic prestige, to me alone, and an obscure old woman, who has spent her life in darning linen, to be installed here in my place!"

"That need not vex you, grandmamma; his old aunt upon the Rhine will no more inherit than you will."

"Ah! Other heirs have appeared, then?"

"Yes,—his creditors."

The Frau President staggered back to her arm-chair, with a low cry.

"Hush! Pray do not make a scene," Flora said, almost in a whisper. "The people below-stairs know it much better than I; they are all ready to flee from the house like rats from a sinking ship. I cannot and must not leave you any longer in ignorance of the state of affairs. We must be au fait if we would not be laughed at as dupes." She drew the cloud of black tulle closer about her grandmother's chin and neck and rearranged her disordered hair. "No one must see you thus, grandmamma," she said, sternly. "We must retire as gracefully as possible: the affair is too dishonourable and disgraceful; there is no longer any doubt that the explosion was the work of despair—to give it its right name, a piece of villainy—on RÖmer's part."

"The wretch! The infamous scoundrel!" shrieked the Frau President, rising, and fairly running to and fro in the apartment, rage lending strength to her feeble limbs.

Flora pointed to a window before which there hung no protecting shade. "Remember, every one outside can hear you!" she said. "Since early dawn tradesmen have been hovering near the house, the excitement in the capital is tremendous; some people have almost lost their senses with anxiety. Everything consumed by this large household for the last six months is unpaid for. The butcher has even dared to invade the house and demand that you should be called to speak with him. He wishes, of course, before the officers of the law appear, to extort from you, as the head of the household, the six hundred thalers owing him. He was insolent enough to tell my maid that the ladies of the house, as well as the councillor, had eaten his meat."

"Ugh! what a slough that miserable fellow has thrust us into, while he has made his own cowardly escape!" the Frau President exclaimed, half choked with rage, and yet instinctively withdrawing from the open window. She wrung her hands. "Gracious heaven! what a fearful situation! What is to be done?"

"First of all, we must pack up everything that is our own and leave the house, if we would not have the officers seal up our effects also; we might wait long before they would be returned to us. I am just going up-stairs to put away my"—she interrupted herself with a laugh—"my trousseau in chests and trunks. Then I am going to make an inventory of the household articles, and if you yourself will not take charge of handing them over——"

"Never——"

"Then the housekeeper can do it. We have reason enough to plead illness." She took from her writing-table the key of the room where her trousseau was, whilst the Frau President retired to place her possessions if possible beyond the risk of being officially sealed up.