All the brightness had departed from the social life at Odensburg, which had been so gay all the summer through, its center of attraction being ever the young engaged couple. The family were still wearing the first deep mourning for him who had been laid in the grave hardly two months before, and the atmosphere in the house was as heavy and dull as was the bleak foggy autumn day outside.

Only Maia made an exception. Dr. Hagenbach was right--at seventeen years of age one weeps out one's grief and is then comforted even for the loss of a beloved brother; and moreover here was a particular comforter quite close at hand. Oscar von Wildenrod had, of course, remained at Odensburg; and although there could be no talk now of a public betrothal, yet the father had given his consent in due form.

Maia was infinitely lovely in her deep, quiet happiness, and in the family-circle, where he needed not to be under restraint, he showed her the tenderest attention and devotion. He seemed greatly altered; the harsh features vanished more and more from his face, his whole nature being softened under the influence of that budding happiness which brought him to the goal of his desires.

Dernburg bore his grief for his son as he was accustomed to bear every hard thing in life, composedly and silently, seeking his consolation in that occupation, to which he gave himself up with greater zeal than ever. Between him and his daughter-in-law Eric's death had unexpectedly formed a close and tender tie. For, although the father had received the betrothed of his son with cordiality, and treated her as a daughter, yet in his inmost soul, he had never become really reconciled to this union; the vain, haughty child of the world had always been a creature apart from the man of strict duty. But the young widow, with her grief passionately expressed at first, but afterwards changing to a deep, settled melancholy, found a true father in him. From the moment when he had folded her in his arms at Eric's bedside, she had held a place in his heart.

He did not suspect, indeed, that this abandoned grief of Cecilia's was only remorse--remorse over that hour when she had so strongly expressed aversion for the husband, who was even then dying. She did not know the worst either, namely, that it was those unfortunate words of hers that had pronounced his death-sentence. Oscar had secured the silence of the man-servant, who had seen Eric go upstairs and enter the fatal room, and no one else was aware of the circumstance. But the young woman had some foreboding of the coincidence, and took refuge with her father, because she could not overcome a secret horror of her brother.

For that matter though, Dernburg had but little time now to devote to his family, for, besides the usual burdens that he took upon his shoulders now as ever, the impending election demanded his time and strength in large measure. It was considered a matter of course in his party that the prerogative of a seat in the Reichstag which he had so long exercised would this time, too, fall to his share, but they had soon become convinced that, for the first time, the victory must be a contested one, for their opponents were working under high pressure. The circumstances required activity in all directions, and here Dernburg found quite an unexpected prop in Oscar von Wildenrod.

With incredible celerity, he had made himself familiar with the political situation, and his keen penetration, accompanied by sound judgment, excited the admiration of others who had been in the midst of these relations.

The Baron was everywhere that it seemed likely his presence could do good: he took part in all mass-meetings and consultations, and went into the campaign with the most ardent zeal. The quondam diplomat was again launched on the open sea of politics, and it was no wonder that every day increased his influence over Dernburg, whose very shadow he became.

Finally the day arrived, when the last decisive battle was to be fought at the polls. Unusual activity now prevailed in the building devoted to the offices connected with the Odensburg works, which had commenced, indeed, at an early hour in the morning. The lower floor contained the hall usually devoted to lectures and all general assemblies: here all the officials were to be found to-day, here telegraphic communications were constantly coming from the city, and messengers from the country districts, which gave, approximately, at least, the returns from the polls. The commonly peaceful assembly-room looked like a camp in war-time, the director forming its central figure: and a continuous stream of messages was conveyed to the Manor.

It was not until the afternoon was considerably advanced that Dr. Hagenbach came in, and was greeted with reproaches on the part of the gentlemen present, because of his absence.

"Where in the world have you been hiding, Doctor?" cried the director, in rather a fault-finding tone. "Here we have been sitting all day immersed in care and anxiety, while, in all tranquillity of soul, you have been visiting your patients and not pretending to show your face!"

"I cannot prevent people from getting sick and dying on election-day," said Hagenbach gravely. "I had to go to Eckardstein this morning, and there they would have me stay, until all was over."

However much engrossed the gentlemen were by other things, this news aroused universal interest.

"Is the Count dead?" asked the director in surprise.

"He died two hours ago."

"That is a sudden turn of fortune's wheel in Count Victor's favor," remarked the upper-engineer. "Yesterday a poor, dependent lieutenant, and to-day proprietor of the great Eckardstein estate. Count Conrad had not been exactly kind to his younger brother, I believe."

"No; but nevertheless he was as affectionate as possible, at the last.--And now, gentlemen, I trust that I have apologized sufficiently for my absence, and sincerely hope that I have not been sensibly missed. How goes the reckoning? Well, I hope."

"Not so particularly well, either," muttered the upper-engineer. "The reports from the country districts are satisfactory, but in town, the Socialists evidently have the whip-hand of us."

"Well, we were prepared for that from the beginning," remarked Winning, the chief of the technical bureau. "Odensburg gives the casting-vote, and with that we are sure of a majority."

"If we can unconditionally calculate upon it--yes," said the director, "but I am afraid----"

"What are you afraid of?" asked Hagenbach with a look of concern, as the other broke off in the middle of his sentence.

"That we shall be in the minority here too. Runeck's hold upon the people seems to be greater than we foresaw--signs of it, indeed, have come to light just in the last hour."

"Runeck is a forcible speaker," said Winning, earnestly, "and his great speech, recently, at the 'Golden Lamb' carried away his whole audience. To be sure it did not reach his former level. He used to speak coldly, with stern repose, but every word told--this time he stormed away like a runaway horse, without method or aim."

"He was suffering anxiety about his election," mocked the upper-engineer. "Yet there comes Helm; perhaps he brings something important."

It was one of the younger officials who now entered and handed over a telegram just received. The director opened and read it, after which he silently handed it to the doctor, who stood at his side. He glanced over it and then shook his head. "This is very disagreeable! So, in town the victory of the Socialists is already decided! Read it, gentlemen!"

The telegram went the rounds, while the director stepped to the telephone, that connected the assembly-room with the Manor, in order to report to the chief.

"Now the decision rests wholly and solely upon Odensburg," said the upper-engineer. "At all events it was imprudent to dismiss that ranter Fallner, immediately before the elections. It has made bad blood and cost us hundreds of votes, perhaps. But Herr Dernburg was inexorable!"

"Was he to submit placidly to having this man prate against him in his own workshops, setting them of his own household against him?" remarked Winning. "Things of the kind have never been suffered at Odensburg, and now would have been an example of unpardonable weakness."

"But I am afraid that we were only the victims of a party maneuver," persisted the other. "Fallner knew exactly what was before him--must have known it--but he belonged to that new set, who do not lose much if they go, so that he could afford to give himself to the venture. He was to be dismissed, the affair was meant to stir up bad blood among the people, for that it was planned. I represented all this to the master--but in vain. 'I suffer no rebellion and no stirring up of strife on my place. Let this be announced to the man at once.' Such was his answer, and thereby he put weapons in the hands of his adversaries."

Winning was silent, vexed that nobody would take him up, and contradict his assertion. But the director, who now came back from the telephone and had heard these last words, said significantly:

"If the matter would only end with our losing votes! I was told only yesterday, that the workmen are being worked upon from all quarters, to take up for Fallner and insist upon his being allowed to remain. If they really do this, we shall have strife."

"But they will not do it, because they know the master," said Dr. Hagenbach, mingling in the conversation. "He lets nothing be forced from him, even though he should have to close all his works. Our men, here, at Odensburg would be simply mad, if they allowed it to come to that!"

"And though it were the maddest thing in the world, what care Landsfeld and his crew for that?" exclaimed upper-engineer. "They want strife, no matter at what price and what sacrifice. At the same time, I believe that it was a mistake to dismiss Fallner. Alas! he is still here, and does not leave the works until day after to-morrow. If the election is lost, and passions consequently become aroused, we may live to get a disagreeable surprise."

"Nonsense! You see ghosts!" scolded Winning; but the director said gravely:

"I would that this day were past!" Over at the Manor, they waited the returns from the elections with the same suspense, and in the master's office there was almost as much commotion as in the building where the director presided. Dernburg, indeed, took the arrival of reports and telegrams, going and coming of officers and their announcements, with his wonted calmness. For him it involved no mere question of ambition, he sacrificed to his seat in the Reichstag, time and strength which were needed in his calling, the want of which he sometimes felt now, at the coming on of old age. He would willingly have resigned his seat to a representative of his own way of thinking, but as things stood, the victory of his party linked itself with his name, and, besides, it was Odensburg that would decide his election. Thus this election was an affair of honor with him.

Dernburg chanced to find himself alone with his daughter-in-law. That young lady, looking grave and fair in her widow's garb, leaned against the window. She had of late been admitted more and more to the confidence of her father-in-law. He allowed her, at times, an insight into the workings of his soul, that were else a sealed book: she alone knew the reason why his brow was to-day so dark and lowering. It was not solicitude lest he be defeated, which, for that matter, he hardly deemed possible: no, the bitterness of this conflict lay for him in the thought that his opponent was Egbert Runeck.

"Oscar is as much excited as if his own election were at stake," said Dernburg, after he had once more read through his dispatches.

"It surprises me, too, to see my brother thus immersed in politics," replied Cecilia, with a slight shake of the head. "He used to care so little about them."

"Because he kept aloof from his fatherland for so many years. I just now begin to see what he is capable of, when field is given him for a great activity."

"Oh, I believe Oscar can perform wonders, if he has a mind to, and he will begin a new life at Odensburg: he has promised me to."

These words sounded peculiar, almost like an apology, but Dernburg paid no heed to this.

"I wish good luck to him and myself on that account," said he, earnestly. "I candidly confess to you, Cecilia, that hitherto I have entertained a certain prejudice against your brother, but it has passed away; in these last days he has been the greatest comfort to me. For this I want to thank him."

The young woman made no answer; she gazed out upon the gray, misty October day that was now fast drawing to a close. It was already twilight; the servant brought the lamp, and with it came Wildenrod and Maia into the room. The Baron looked gloomy and excited. Dernburg quickly turned to him.

"Well, how goes it, Oscar? What news do you bring? Nothing good. I see from your countenance! Have new returns come in?"

"Yes, from the city. Our fears have been confirmed, the Socialists have gotten the majority there."

"Ah, indeed!" cried Dernburg hotly. "It is the first time that they have accomplished that. We shall soon, however, dampen the joy of their triumph with the half of our Odensburg votes!"

Cecilia's glance sought her brother's with a timid expression, and his features betrayed that he did not share this confidence. There was also a certain hesitation in his voice as he answered:

"Odensburg certainly has the deciding word, and it will, I hope, be spoken for us. Nevertheless, we must prepare for any possibility----"

"But not the possibility of my workmen leaving me in the lurch," remarked Dernburg. "Once for all, I cannot believe such a thing of my men. Possess your soul in patience, Oscar, you are marked for a novice by your feverish uneasiness. As for the rest, the election must be over directly."

He got up, but the way in which he paced up and down the room, looking ever and anon at the clock, proved that he was by no means so cold-blooded, as he would have them believe. Then his glance fell upon Maia, who had almost shyly entered the room and immediately joined her sister-in-law, and he stood still:

"My poor little girl has been quite frightened today," said he, compassionately. "Yes, bad politics! It engrosses us men to the exclusion of everything else. Come to me, my Maia!"

Maia flew to her father and nestled up to him. Her voice sounded very dejected, as she replied:

"Ah, papa, I understand so little of political affairs. I am very much ashamed of it sometimes."

Dernburg smiled and tenderly stroked the fair hair of his darling. "You are not to bother your young head about such grave affairs, my child. You can safely commit that to Oscar and me."

"But I shall be obliged to learn some time," said Maia with a heavy sigh. "Cecilia has learned, too. Ah, papa, I am jealous of Cecile. You have quite closed your heart to everybody else; you consult her about everything, while I am always shoved aside as a silly little thing."

"How abominable of me!" sportively returned Dernburg, at the same time casting an affectionate glance upon his daughter-in-law. The latter smiled, but it was a melancholy, joyless smile.

"I almost believe Maia is put out with me, too, because I have had so little time to give her to-day," said Oscar, stepping up to his betrothed and taking her hand.

"Yes, to-day you have no thought but for dispatches and election-returns," pouted the young girl. "I really do not comprehend, why you are all in such anxiety and excitement. Papa will be elected as he always is!"

"I think so too," said Dernburg, with calm confidence.

"Well, then, everything is going on right and we need not worry ourselves about it," declared Maia, shaking her wise head indignantly. "That tactless Egbert, indeed, gives papa a great deal to do. Everybody is talking about him and----"

"Silence on that score, Maia!" interposed her father abruptly and with an air of displeasure. "The name of Engineer Runeck is daily forced upon me in the political arena, but I do not wish to hear it mentioned in my family. His relations with us are forever at an end!"

The girl ceased, intimidated by the unwonted tone, and a long silence ensued. Time slipped by, but the looked-for tidings still tarried. Finally the servant entered and spoke a few whispered words to the Baron, who got up quickly and went out. In the dimly-lighted hall he found the director and Winning, who awaited him there.

"Do you wish to speak with me, gentlemen?" asked Wildenrod quickly. "What brings you?"

"Something unpleasant, alas, Baron," began the director hesitatingly, "very unpleasant! Herr Dernburg will have to be prepared for a severe disappointment."

"What does that mean? Have you received the expected returns?"

"Runeck is elected!" said the director in a low voice. "Three quarters of the Odensburg votes were for him."

The Baron turned pale and his hand doubled up convulsively. "Incredible! Unheard of!" he gasped. "And the country-districts? Our forges and mines? Have you heard from there already?"

"No, but they can make no alteration in the main result. Runeck has won in the city and Odensburg; that is enough to ensure to him the majority. Here are the numbers registered."

Wildenrod silently took the paper from the hands of the officer, and read the notices through: they agreed--the election was decided, in due form, against Dernburg and his party.

"We did not dare to break this news to the Master abruptly," said Winning. "He is not at all prepared for it. Perhaps you'll undertake it, Baron? He will have to learn the truth; in a half hour all Odensburg will have the news."

"I'll communicate it to him," said the Baron, as he folded the paper up and put it in his pocket. "But, one thing more, gentlemen! It is just possible that when this result of the election gets abroad manifestations may be attempted, that, in this case, will be a direct insult to our chief. That mad crew, drunk with victory----" here all his vexation broke through the self-restraint, that he had heretofore with difficulty maintained. "Any attempt at demonstrations of rejoicing will be suppressed with the greatest severity, no matter what comes of it. We have no longer any motive to consider them, and they shall be made to feel this." With a haughty nod, he left.

The two officers looked at one another, and finally the director said, with a depressed air: "I wonder who is properly our chief now,--Herr Dernburg or Baron Wildenrod?"

"The Baron, it would seem," answered Winning, irritably. "He gives orders independently, and orders, too, that may entail the most serious consequences. These demonstrations are bound to come. Fallner and his adherents are already seeing to that----"

It was no enviable task that Wildenrod had undertaken. When he again entered Dernburg's room, he was received with the impatient question:

"What was that message about, pray? They are not tormenting us now about other things, I hope--we really have no time for them. But I cannot understand the meaning of this obstinate silence over at the other house. They should have got the news by this time, at least in part, and still not a word do they send us."

"The news has already come, as I have just learned," replied Wildenrod.

"How is that? Why is the announcement delayed then?"

"The director and Winning wanted to bring it over in person. They came to me----"

Dernburg started; for the first time a foreboding of ill darted through his soul. "To you? Why not to me? What are those men thinking of?"

"They wanted to transfer to me the duty of making the revelation," said the Baron, with bridled excitement. "The officers did not dare to approach you with it themselves."

Dernburg changed color, but firmly drew himself up to his full height. "Has it come to their wanting to act a comedy with me? Out with what you have to say!"

Wildenrod looked at the man who confronted him so coldly and wrathfully. It was impossible to delay longer. "Runeck has won the victory in town----" he began.

"I know that! What else?"

"And in Odensburg as well."

"In Odensburg?" repeated Dernburg, looking at the speaker as if he had not taken in his meaning. "My workmen----"

"Have for the most part voted for your opponent, Runeck is elected."

A half-suppressed shriek rang through the apartment; it came from Cecilia's lips. Maia looked anxiously upon her father; so much she comprehended, namely, that a terrible blow was inflicted upon him by these tidings, Dernburg did not speak and did not stir. A dismal silence ensued. Finally he held out his hand for the paper that Wildenrod had drawn out of his pocket.

"You have the electorial returns?"

"Yes, here they are."

Dernburg approached the table, in order to read, always preserving his rigid composure, but as he stood there, in the full light of the lamp, he looked deadly pale. Motionless, he gazed at the numbers that spoke their relentless message. At last he said coldly: "Quite right. Three-quarters of the votes are for him, and me they have cast overboard. It is regular treachery--an unparalleled deserting of one's colors. To be sure when one has been digging and delving for months--my deputy was in a place of trust, having full access to the people, and well knew how to turn the situation to----"

"Your magnanimity, your unlimited confidence is to blame for it all," remarked Wildenrod. "You knew the designs, the connections of this man, and notwithstanding, let him again set foot upon your soil. He wisely profited by this to secure constituents for himself. Now, he had only to beckon, and crowds flocked to his standard. You gave him the rights of a son--behold the return he makes you this day!"

"Oscar, for heaven's sake desist!" implored Cecilia softly. She saw and felt that each one of his words fell like corroding poison into the soul of the man, whose heart was as deeply wounded as his pride.

But Oscar could not use forbearance toward his hated adversary, and continued with increasing warmth:

"Runeck will triumph and he has every reason to. This is a brilliant victory that he has won, to be sure, and over whom? That he gained it over you, that alone makes him a famous man. And in this hour the result of the election will be known in Odensburg--they will have a celebration, vaunting their candidate, and rejoicing until the sound of their shouts will be heard at the Manor-house, and you will have to listen to them----"

"I shall do no such thing!" declared Dernburg with vehemence, retiring a step. It was evident that the poison was taking effect, the man was extremely provoked. "The people have used their right to vote--well, I shall use mine as a householder, and know how to protect myself against insults. Any demonstrations, whatever following upon this election will be suppressed. The director must take the proper measures; tell him so, Oscar!"

"It has already been done. I foresaw your order, and gave the needful directions. I thought that I could be responsible in this case."

On any other occasion, Dernburg would have considered an interference of the sort without his knowledge as an unwarrantable piece of presumption; now, he only saw in it an evidence of solicitude and did not think of censuring.

"It is well," answered he shortly.

"Represent me for to-day, if you please, Oscar; I can see nobody now--go, then, and leave me alone!"

"Papa, let me, at least, stay with you," pleaded Maia in touching entreaty; but for this once her father did not reciprocate her tenderness, but gently put her away.

"No, my child, not even you! Oscar, take Maia with you--I want to be by myself."

Oscar whispered to his betrothed a few words, and then led her from the room. The door closed behind them, and now, when Dernburg believed himself to be alone, his with difficulty maintained composure forsook him. He pressed his clinched fists to his temples, a groan heaved his chest. He did not feel at this moment the humiliation of the defeat; there was something in his grief nobler than mortified ambition. Deserted by his workmen, whose gratitude he believed himself to have earned through a thirty years' course of fatherly kindness to them! Given up for the sake of another, whom he had loved like an own son, and who now thanked him in this fashion! His unflinching fortitude gave way under this blow.

Then he felt how two arms were thrown around his neck, and starting up he perceived his son's young widow, whose pale, tearful countenance met his gaze with an expression that he had never seen in it before.

"What means this, Cecilia?" asked he roughly. "Did I not tell you I wanted to be alone? The others have gone----"

"But I am not going," said Cecilia with quivering voice. "Repulse me not, father! You took me in your arms and pressed me to your heart in the hardest hour of my life; now that hour has come to you, and I want to share it with you."

Then the stolid bitterness of the horribly excited man broke down, and he did not again reject her sympathy. Silently he drew Cecilia to his bosom, and as he stooped over, a glowing tear fell upon her forehead. She shuddered slightly, stung by remorse--she knew for whom that tear was shed.