THE CROSS ON THE WHITE STONE.
Spring had fully come. Through storm and cold, through frost and fog,
it had victoriously fought its way through, and awakened the earth
everywhere to a new and sunny life.
A solitary wanderer was vigorously climbing upward through the green
woods. It was still early in the day: the forest still-rested in deep
bluish gray shadow, while heavy and moist lay the dew upon the mossy
ground. Only the voices of individual birds sounded through the
stillness of morning, and the tree-tops rustled and sighed as they
bowed before the wind.
Egbert Runeck was on his way to the Whitestone, wanting to keep his
word and examine the condition of the cross up there himself. Now he
emerged from the woods, coming out upon a small elevated plateau, while
just in front of him towered the mighty wall of cliff. Naked and steep
it reared its crest above the dark fir-trees that fringed its base. The
whole upper part was wildly cleft and riven, here only a few dwarf
pines and stunted bushes were rooted in the fissures. From the summit a
gigantic cross was visible to a great distance, identifying the
mountain for all beholders.
That high, solitary peak played a chief part in the legends of the
region round about. Already its name was linked with the world of
fairies and elves that once had their mysterious being in these
mountain-forests, and still survived in the superstitions of the
people. The Whitestone concealed buried treasures, that, slumbering
deep within its rock-bound caves, waited for release, and already many
a one had paid the penalty of death for meddling with its secrets. Only
the almighty _Springwürzel_[1] opens these locked-up depths.
"He takes from night and darkness
Their treasures hidden deep,
And he those jewels sparkling
And all that gold may keep."
How strange! Those words kept ringing in the ears of the man who stood
on the edge of the mountain-meadow. It was the last stanza of an old
popular ballad, that he too had been familiar with in childhood, but
had long since forgotten. For him there were no longer hidden
treasures, for him the depths were empty and dead, and yet that song
kept ringing incessantly in his soul, but rather the voice from which
he had last heard it. He hated at the bottom of his heart that
beautiful syren who had ensnared by her wiles the friend of his youth,
and now was to be mistress of Odensburg, but he could not rid himself
of the entrancing sound of that voice, of the demoniacal charm of those
eyes, and no labor, no exertion of will-power availed for his
deliverance.
He crossed, over the mountain meadow, and, looking up, scrutinized the
Whitestone. The weight of the winter's snows and the latest storms of
spring might very well have shaken its foundations, and yet it seemed
to stand firm and sure. But suddenly Egbert started, his foot seemed
rooted to the spot, while his gaze clung spell-bound, to the top of the
peak. Something was stirring up yonder; he saw the outlines of a bright
form, that were clearly defined--his sharp eye recognized them in spite
of the distance.
It had been no mere boast then, no passing whim, the madcap had really
undertaken the adventure, and, undertaken it alone, as it seemed!
Egbert's brow contracted, yet, for him to retrace his steps was not to
be thought of--he, too, had almost certainly been already seen. He
grasped his staff, then, and slowly began to climb.
The path that from here upward led to the crag certainly required a
steady head and a fearless heart. It was a sort of hunter's track, that
wound along close to the steep precipice, and the view of the awful
depths below was always left open. At times it would vanish entirely,
and then one would be forced to look out a path for himself, until the
beaten track after a while again became visible.
The young engineer had lost the imperturbable coolness, with which he
usually accomplished such a climb, often he stopped, his foot slipped,
and he had consumed much more time than usual when he finally reached
the top. There before him stood Cecilia Wildenrod, flooded by the
bright light of morning, radiant in beauty and overweening pride.
"See there, Herr Runeck, we meet on the summit of the Whitestone! You
have taken your time for the climb--I came faster!"
"I know the danger of the way," answered Egbert, composedly, "and
therefore do not challenge it."
"Danger? I did not think of that! You thought I would not dare to
follow this path, or, at best give up and go back in five minutes. What
say you now?"
She gave him a challenging glance,--now, at last, a word of admiration
must come from those stern lips! But there came only the cool
counter-question:
"Do they know of your expedition at Odensburg, noble lady?"
"Why, no!" cried the young lady laughing. "Then they would have
confined me to the house or at least set a guard over my going out and
coming in. I set off this morning betimes, while they were all asleep,
slipped away secretly, had the horses hitched up and drove to
Crownwood. From there the road can hardly be missed, and, you see I
have found it."
"Alone? That was more than incautious! If you had made a false step, if
you had fallen, no help was at hand and then----"
"Dear me? Do not you begin to preach at me," interrupted she
impatiently. "I shall hear enough of lectures when I get back to
Odensburg."
"I have neither the purpose nor the right to preach to you, Fräulein
von Wildenrod, that is for Eric to do, if any one."
"And he is the very last from whom I would take it."
"What, not from your future husband?"
"Just on that very account. I have made up my mind to rule in the
establishment."
"That would not be hard to do in this case, Eric is of a gentle,
yielding temper. He will never try to resist you."
"Resist?" repeated Cecilia, provoked and amused at the same time. "You
seem to consider our marriage as on a war-basis--a flattering
compliment to me."
"I beg pardon, if I now inspect the cross," said Egbert, interrupting
the Baroness. "I came up here, solely on that account, you know. The
thing is to hinder the possibility of an accident, the results of which
might be fatal."
Cecilia bit her lip at this rejection of the confidential tone, which
she had found good to adopt, and an angry glance was hurled at the man
who dared to treat her thus.
Cecilia looked silently on as Runeck proceeded to the cross, which
stood on the extreme verge of the precipice upon the side facing the
valley, and tested it. He did this thoroughly and scientifically, and
probably ten minutes elapsed ere he turned around again.
"Those gentlemen were mistaken," said he quietly. "The cross is
standing perfectly firm and secure, and there is no fear of its
falling. Perhaps you will have the goodness to report this at
Odensburg. I shall not get there until day after to-morrow, and I take
it for granted that you have no idea of making a secret of your
adventure."
"On the contrary, I am fully purposed to boast freely of it. Do not
look so astounded, Herr Runeck. You see this lace veil does not exactly
belong to my tourist's equipment: I have brought it with me on purpose
to prove that I really have been on the top of the Whitestone. I could
have no idea that I should meet you here, and did not therefore
calculate upon having your testimony to the feat." And so saying
Cecilia loosened the white veil, that was flung loosely around her
shoulder and waist, and advanced towards the cross.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Egbert, looking after her in
surprise.
"I have already told you,--to leave behind, a token, so that they may
believe at Odensburg, that I actually performed the achievement. My
veil is to wave from the cross yonder."
"For what? It is rashness, foolhardiness! Come back, please!"
His call sounded commanding, frenzied, but Cecilia paid no heed to it.
Standing immediately on the verge of the precipice, she flung her veil
around the cross. It was an agonizing spectacle--one single incautious
movement, and she would lie crushed at the base.
"Fräulein von Wildenrod, come back! I implore you!" The voice of the
young engineer was muffled and full of emotion. He seemed to suffer the
agonies of a life-time in that moment.
Cecilia turned around and smiled. "Can you really beg, Herr Runeck? I
am coming directly, only one more look into that chasm, which has its
fascination for me." And, with her arm slung around the cross, she
actually bent over the abruptly precipitous wall of rock, and looked
fearlessly down.
Egbert involuntarily took one step forward, his arm quivered, as though
he would drag her away by force from her dangerous position. He did
not, however, but every drop of blood seemed to have left his face,
when she finally left her place and came to him again.
"Do you believe now in my fearlessness?" she asked, tauntingly.
"That rash sport was really not necessary to convince me of it," said
he harshly, and yet he drew a sigh of relief, when he once more saw the
foolhardy girl on firm ground. "A misstep on that spot and you would
have been lost!"
She recklessly shrugged her shoulders. "I never get dizzy, and just
wanted for once to feel that deliciously thrilling sensation of
standing up there, close over the precipice. One feels something like a
demoniacal drawing to the bottom, it is as though one must rush to
destruction, whether or no. Have you ever felt anything like it?"
"No," said Egbert coldly. "One must have a great deal of--time, to
indulge themselves in such feelings."
"Which you deem objectionable."
"Unhealthy, to say the least. He who needs his life for work, knows how
to prize it, and risks it only at the call of duty."
This reproof sounded very rude, and if it had come from the lips of any
other person, Cecilia would probably have turned her back upon the
"insolent creature," in silent contempt. Here she said nothing, for a
minute perhaps, and at the same time scanned the sunburnt countenance
of the young man, that had not by any means recovered its color as yet.
Then she smiled again. "Thanks for the lesson. We just do not
understand one another, Herr Runeck."
"I have told you so already--we belong to two different worlds----"
"And yet we stand so near together on the narrow space furnished by
Whitestone's crest," mocked Cecilia. "As for the rest, I have enjoyed
this unique pleasure long enough. I must go down now."
"Then permit me to attend you! The descent is far more dangerous than
the ascent, and I could not answer to Erie for letting you go alone."
"To Eric? That indeed!" Her lips curled haughtily at the mention of her
betrothed; then she cast a look up at the cross, where the loose
hanging ends of the veil were fluttering in the morning breeze.
"That old weather-beaten cross has never been dressed up so before! I
present it to the guardian spirits of the Whitestone; may be, out of
gratitude, they will open their caverns to me and give me a sight of
their buried treasures."
With a light laugh she turned to go. Silently Runeck led the way. He
was right, the greater danger lay in the descent.
From time to time, at especially critical places, he exhorted her to be
cautious, with a few words, or by a movement of the arm offered his
assistance, which, however, was not accepted. His beautiful companion
walked along over the giddy, steep path, as carelessly as over the
smoothest of roads. Her light foot carried her over the rubble-stones,
where Egbert's heavier tread found no good hold, and where there was
climbing or leaping to do, with the help of her staff, she would swing
herself from rock to rock. There was a bewitching grace in every moment
of her slender white form, although, at the same time, that bold rash
sport with danger that sets foresight at defiance.
They had already accomplished the greatest part of the way, already the
bright green of the little mountain meadow was smiling a welcome, when
Cecilia heedlessly again set her foot upon a loose rubble-stone, but
this time it gave way, and rolled into the chasm; she lost her balance,
tottered, stumbled--now the horrible instant of her fall, a loud shriek
of dismay, then it grew dark before her eyes.
But the next second she was seized and held. Flinging his stout staff
from him, Egbert had turned around as quick as lightning, and propping
himself with gigantic strength against the cliff, he caught up the
girl's trembling form and convulsively held her tight in his arms.
Cecilia had hardly lost her consciousness for more than a minute,
almost immediately it was restored to her, and her large, dark eyes
were shyly lifted up to her deliverer's face, that was bent over her.
She saw that it was deadly pale, saw the expression of unspeakable
agony upon his usually cold features, and felt the wild, stormy beating
of the heart against which her head rested! _She_ was the one who had
been in peril, but upon _his_ countenance was stamped the agony of
death!
Thus they tarried awhile, motionless, when Runeck slowly let his arm
drop. "Rest upon my shoulder," said he softly. "Right firmly--look not
to the right nor left, only upon the path in front of you--I am holding
you."
He picked up his staff and then put his right arm about her, so as best
to give her support. Cecilia passively obeyed; that horrible danger,
the nature of which she now, for the first time, realized, had broken
her spirit of opposition; she still trembled in every limb and her head
swam. Thus they slowly continued the descent. That light, delicate
figure could hardly have been felt as a burden by so strong a man, and
yet his breath came quickly and heavily, and a dark flush glowed upon
his cheek.
Finally, the solid ground was reached, and they stood in the meadow.
All the way down they had exchanged not a single word, but now Cecilia
straightened herself up. She was still pale, but she tried to smile as
she offered her hand to the man who had saved her life.
"Herr Runeck--I thank you."
There was a strange ring in those words, something that told of a
genuinely warm heart and overflowing gratitude, but Egbert only touched
lightly the proffered hand, and immediately let it drop again.
"I deserve no thanks, lady. I would have done the same service to any
other whom I had seen in such peril. When you have recovered somewhat
from your fright, I shall conduct you to Crownwood, where you said you
had left your carriage and horses. Even that is tolerably far."
Cecilia looked at him in surprise, almost in dismay. Was that the same
man, who had awhile ago bent over her in such tender solicitude, whose
whole being had quivered in wild, feverish excitement as he had borne
rather than led her down the mountain? There stood he before her, with
stolid features, speaking with the same old calm composure, as though
the memory of those last fifteen minutes had already been expunged from
his memory. But they had been, nevertheless--a pair of dark eyes had
looked into depths hitherto strongly locked up and knew not what it
concealed.
"Do you take me to be so cowardly, that I tremble for hours over a
danger surmounted?" asked Cecilia softly. "I am only tired from the
difficulties of the walk and my feet pain me; I must rest for a quarter
of an hour."
She let herself down under a tall fir-tree, the moss-covered roots of
which offered a natural resting-place. She was indeed exhausted and
over-fatigued, it was easy to see, but her companion had not a word of
commiseration to spare her. He seemed to have but one wish, and that
was to give up his office as guide as quickly as possible.
The mountain-meadow, with its sunny green, shone bright in contrast
with the dark forests. Behind it loomed up the Whitestone, while in
front an extensive view of the mountains was afforded. The landscape
had nothing of the bright smiling beauty of the south, nor the
overpowering grandeur of the Alps, but there rested upon it a peculiar
charm, dreamy and melancholy as its legendary world.
Deep down lay the valleys, wrapt in bluish shadows, while the heights
round about were flooded by bright sunshine, and over the valleys and
hills spread an infinite expanse of green forest, out of which, only
here and there, a bare wall of rock emerged, or a brook plunged wildly
downward, splashing and foaming as it went. Mysteriously, as though
from a far distance, came the soughing of the wind through the trees,
swelling ever stronger and stronger, and then sinking again, dying away
like a long-drawn sigh.
And yet other sounds were borne upon the breeze from the depths below.
It was a Sunday morning and the churches of all the little villages
scattered through the woods were calling to the service of God.
Everywhere bells were ringing, one here sounded clear and full, another
there low and sweet, mingling, as it died away, with the rustling of
the trees.
Cecilia had taken off her hat and leaned against the trunk of the tree.
Egbert stood a few steps apart, but his eyes hung upon her, as though
riveted there by some wizard's spell. It availed nothing for him to
forcibly resist; again they returned to feast themselves upon her
captivating beauty, that graceful form clad in a simple white woolen
gown, or that shining hair, which to-day was only lightly brushed back,
and, held by a silver pin, fell loose on her neck. Her appearance was
quite different from what Egbert had ever seen it before--so much
lovelier--so much more dangerous!
For minutes had the silence lasted, when Cecilia looked up and asked in
a low voice:
"And you are not going to scold me at all?"
"I? Why should I?"
"Why, you have good right to be angry with me, since, through my
folly, your life, too, was exposed to imminent peril. I missed, by a
hair's-breadth, dragging you down with me into that abyss--I am ashamed
of myself."
This was uttered pleadingly, almost timidly--the tone was a strange one
from that mouth. A dark flush appeared upon Egbert's brow, but his
voice was as cold and distant as ever.
"You were not aware of the danger, but will not be so rash again."
"Will you not accept of my apology, but treat it as you did my thanks?"
asked Cecilia reproachfully. "You have saved my life at the risk of
your own--but at this moment you actually look as if you bitterly
repent of it."
"I?" exclaimed Egbert vehemently.
"Yes, you! You stand there with an air that seems to say, you must
defend yourself against an enemy in deadly fray. Against whom, pray?
Only I am here!"
Again there was that roaring and rushing in the woods. It drew on above
the hills like the waving of invisible giant-wings, and fuller and
stronger sounded the church-bells from below. The whole air was
instinct with sound, it seemed to soar on the sunbeams, and to swim and
to shape themselves into a marvelous song, that at first sounded only
in single detached chords, and then gradually changed to a melody that
seemed mysterious but infinitely sweet, and both to shout and to
lament.
True, those two up yonder, on that solitary, sunlit mountain-meadow,
belonged to two different worlds,--it is true that a deep chasm parted
them in all their thoughts and feelings. But the vain, spoiled child of
fashionable society, who hitherto had only lived in a whirl of gayety,
in an eternal chase after pleasure, to whom, heretofore, solitude had
been synonymous with unbearable _ennui_--she now listened to that
sweet, strange dream, like one lost in reverie. And the man, too, to
whom hard work had never allowed time for meditation and dreams, in
vain resisted the magical influence. He was wont to stand firm on the
soil of reality, in the broad daylight, and to look into life with cool
and penetrating vision--into a life full of toil and strife, full of
hard, irreconcilable contrasts. He was made for this. What to him were
the fantastic dreams of the world of the imagination? And yet now they
held him fast within their toils, and through the midst of it all, with
captivating sweetness, echoed a human voice:
"Against whom are you defending yourself? Only I am here."
Egbert drew his hand across his forehead, as though he would arouse
himself forcibly from this dreamy state.
"I beg your pardon, Baroness Wildenrod," said he. "I was thinking of
unpleasantnesses that I had had with my men at Radefeld. One like me,
who has his work forever on his mind, is but poor company, as you see."
"Have I asked to be entertained by you?" asked Cecilia, with slight
reproof in her accent. "Eric is right, you are as hard as your native
rocks, rugged and inaccessible as the Whitestone itself. If one
believes, that at last the magical word has been found, if the deep
opens for one brief instant, the very next it closes, and a sealed
surface of cold stone confronts the seeker."
Runeck made no reply. He had not idly dreaded this interview: he knew
that he had betrayed himself in that moment of deadly peril and agony
untold!
And his adversary, who had now learned to know her power, was
inexorable and wanted to enjoy her triumph at any price. It had
cost her trouble enough to impose her chains upon this brave, proud
man,--chains which all others were so glad and willing to wear; now he
was conquered, and she wanted to see him, too, at her feet.
"Eric bitterly laments that he sees so little of you now," she began
again. "If you come to Odensburg--and you _must_ come sometimes--you
confine yourself exclusively to his father's work-room and decline
every invitation to join the family circle. Your engagements at
Radefeld furnish you with the pretext for this mode of procedure, but I
know better what keeps you away.--It is my presence and my brother's."
"Mein Fräulein----"
"Do not attempt to deny it. From the very first minute, I have been
conscious of the mute hostility that you bear to us, and have often
enough asked myself why--I have never found an answer to my question."
"Then ask Herr von Wildenrod, he will give you that answer."
The tone of his voice should have warned Cecilia, it sounded hollow and
threatening, but she paid no heed to it.
"Something happened to make you dislike one another that time you first
met, did it not? I have suspected it! But since then years have
elapsed. Oscar has long forgotten the affair, as you have heard from
himself. Will you alone be so implacable? And may I not know what
happened then--will you not tell me, too?"
Her voice sounded yet softer and sweeter than before; her large, dark
eyes were lifted imploringly to the man, who clearly felt how the net
was being drawn closer and closer about him, how will and power were
succumbing to the flattering sounds of that voice, as clearly he also
suspected that the beautiful soulless creature there by his side was
only playing a contemptible game with him and feeling nothing but the
triumph of vanity. Then he rallied his forces with a last desperate
resolve to burst his chains.
"Do you speak as commissioned by Herr von Wildenrod, Baroness?" he
asked, with such terrible bitterness, that the young lady started and
looked at him in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that for the Baron much depends upon his learning what I
really know, and his sister may well seem to him the tool well fitted
for the purpose."
Cecilia rose to her feet, shocked and excited. Although these words
were perfectly unintelligible to her, so much she did understand, that
the matter involved here was something very different from the expected
conquest. This was not the language of a man upon whose lips hovered a
declaration of love. Something like hatred and contempt flashed upon
her from his eyes.
"I do not understand you, Herr Runeck," said she, with rising warmth,
"but I have a feeling that you insult me and my brother. Now, I _will_
know, what happened that time between you two, and you are to tell it
me!"
"Should that really be necessary?" asked he, cuttingly. "Herr von
Wildenrod will have sufficiently instructed you. Well, then, tell him I
know more of his past, than might be pleasant to him!"
Cecilia turned pale; her eyes, too, flashed threateningly, the same
lurid light burning in them as in the glance of her brother when he was
provoked.
"What does that mean?" cried she, trembling from excitement. "To whom
do your words refer? Beware, lest Oscar call you to account!"
Her warning came too late, producing not the slightest effect upon
Egbert, whose nervous system had been subjected to great strain,
through the silent, torturing conflict, which he had been waging for
months. He was intensely excited. Had he been the calm and collected
man of earlier days, he would not have spoken, at least not at this
hour and this place; he would have spared in Cecilia, the woman. But
now there fermented within him only that wild desire after revenge upon
her who had stolen his soul from him, who, syren-like, had chained to
herself all his thoughts and feelings, and whom he believed that he
hated, wanted to hate, because he despised her. If he should now
inflict a deadly insult upon her, if he should open a gulf between them
that no bridge could span--no word nor look cross--that would bring
deliverance, break the spell, then an end would be put to it!
"Baron von Wildenrod is to call me to account, is he?" cried he, with
bitter scorn. "The thing might shape itself differently. I have
hitherto been silent, had to be silent, for my own conviction, however
firm it might stand, would go for nothing against Eric's passion and
his father's sense of justice. They will demand proofs, and I have them
not at present. But I shall know how to find them, and then my
forbearance ceases."
"Are you out of your senses?" interposed Cecilia, but he continued with
increasing vehemence.
"Eric may possibly bleed to death from the wound that I must inflict
upon him, but this is a blow that must strike him sooner or later.
Better that it should happen now, when there is still room for retreat,
when he is not yet chained to a woman who will risk his love and
happiness as awhile ago she did her own life, making sport of them as
she has hitherto done of all who came near to her. You are your
brother's sister, Baroness Wildenrod, and have doubtless been taught by
him how cards are shuffled. He and you already feel yourselves to be
the owners of Odensburg; do not triumph too soon! You do not yet bear
the name of Dernburg, and ere it comes to that, I shall stake
everything upon guarding that name and Odensburg from becoming the prey
of two--adventurers!"
The horrible word was out, and Cecilia shrank as though she had been
struck. Pale as a ghost, incapable of speech, she stared at the man,
whom she had fancied to be enthralled by her charms, and who now
suddenly stood unmasked as a pitiless foe. She did not perceive the
fierce pain, almost amounting to delirium, that raged in his soul and
carried him away beyond all the bounds of discretion, knew not that
every one of those words, that he hurled so crushingly at her, bit
himself with tenfold force; she only felt the deadly insult that he had
inflicted upon her. Not until he ceased to speak, did she recover from
that paralyzing shock.
"Ah, that is too much--too much! You heap up one slander, one insult
upon the other. I do not know at what your insinuations point, but I do
know that they are all lies, shameful lies, that you will have to
render an account for!"
Here was such a glowing outburst of indignation, such stormy revolt
against unmerited contumely, that it removed any doubt as to the truth
of her words. Egbert, too, seemed to feel this, for in his dark,
threatening eyes flashed something like a gleam of hope.
With an impulsive movement, he drew one step nearer.
"You do not understand me? Actually not? You are not your brother's
confidante? Answer me!"
"No--no!" gasped Cecilia, still quivering from rage, but, against her
will, constrained by the torturing suspense conveyed in that question.
Egbert looked at her, his glance seemed to penetrate her inmost soul,
as though he would therein read the truth, then his chest heaved with a
deep, deep sigh. "No," said he, dispiritedly, "You know nothing!"
There followed a long, trying pause. The ringing of bells in the valley
had gradually ceased, only a single one softly sounding from a great
distance. So much the loader roared the wind, wailing as though it bore
bad tidings on its mighty wings.
"Then I have to beg your pardon," began Egbert again, his voice having
a singularly veiled sound. "I do not take back my accusation against
the Baron. Repeat to him word for word what I said, looking him in the
eye, as you do so--perhaps you will then no longer rail against me as a
liar."
In spite of the subdued tone there was such terrible positiveness in
these words, that Cecilia quaked. For the first time, a dread fear, a
secret anguish, took possession of her. This Runeck looked as if he
were ready to maintain the truth of his words in the face of the whole
world. Only suppose that he had not spoken falsely--suppose--she cast
the thought far from her, but nevertheless she turned faint and dizzy.
"Leave me!" said she, with quivering lips. "Go!"
Egbert's eye rested moodily upon her countenance, then he bowed his
head.
"You cannot forgive the affront I gave you. I understand that. But,
believe me, this has also been a trying hour for me--the most trying of
my life!"
He went, and when Cecilia looked up, he had already disappeared among
the trees, and she stood alone. High up on the cross of the Whitestone
her veil was waving and fluttering, about her murmured the woods, and
the last church-bell died softly away in the distance.