BLASTS AND COUNTERBLASTS.
The construction of the railway was pushed forward with feverish haste.
In fact, it was no easy task to have the work completed at the promised
time; but Nordheim was right in declaring that the engineer-in-chief
would spare neither himself nor his subordinates. Elmhorst spurred on
his workmen to incredible exertions; he was present everywhere,
superintending and directing, giving to his staff of engineers an
example of unwearied devotion to duty that inspired their emulation.
Under his leadership their capacity for work seemed doubled, and he
actually attained his end. The numerous structures on the line of
mountain-railway were now all but finished, and the last touches were
being put to the Wolkenstein bridge.
Wolfgang had just returned from his day's expedition. He had dismissed
his vehicle in Oberstein, that he might pursue the rest of his way on
foot, and now he was standing upon a cliff above the Wolkenstein abyss,
watching the workmen, swarming like busy ants upon the trestles and
framework of the bridge. A few days more would witness the completion
of the work, which already excited universal admiration, and which in
the course of a year or two would arouse the wonder of thousands; but
he who had created it stood gazing at it as gloomily as if all pleasure
in his creation had departed.
He had evaded for to-day an interview with the president, testifying by
his absence to his adhesion to his refusal; but some explanation was
unavoidable. That the breach between them was final both knew; Nordheim
was scarcely the man to accept for his son-in-law one who had so
frankly and contemptuously defied him, and from whom he could expect in
future no support in his schemes. The question was now how the
separation was to be made, since the interests of each required that it
should take place as quietly as possible. This was all that was to be
arranged, and this was to be settled on the morrow.
The sound of a horse's hoofs close at hand roused Elmhorst from his
reflections, and turning he perceived Erna von Thurgau upon one of the
rough ponies purchased for use among the mountains. She drew rein,
evidently surprised, as she recognized the engineer-in-chief.
"Back already, Herr Elmhorst? We thought your expedition would take up
an entire day."
"I finished my inspection sooner than I anticipated. But you cannot
ride on for a few moments, Fraeulein von Thurgau: they are blasting just
below there; it will be all over, however, in ten minutes."
The young lady had already perceived the obstacle; the road leading
down the descent and past the bridge was temporarily barricaded, while
beyond a number of workmen were busied in blasting a large fragment of
rock.
"I am in no hurry," she said, indifferently, "and, besides, I must wait
for Herr Waltenberg, who begged me to ride on while he spoke with Herr
Gronau, whom he met just now quite unexpectedly. I do not wish to be
too far in advance of him."
She let her bridle hang loose, and seemed to bestow all her attention
upon the workmen. The previous night had brought an entire change
in the weather,--a cold rain had obscured all the sunny, fragrant
beauty of the landscape. The skies hung dark and gray above the earth,
the mountains were veiled in mist, and the wind whistled in the
forests,--autumn had come in a single night.
"We shall see you this evening, Herr Elmhorst?" Erna asked, after a
silence of several minutes.
"I regret extremely that I cannot possibly come. I shall be very much
occupied this evening."
It was the old pretext to which he had so often had recourse; but it no
longer found credence. Erna said, with evident significance, "You are
probably not aware that my uncle arrived this forenoon?"
"Oh, yes, I know it, and have excused my absence to him; I shall see
him to-morrow."
"But Alice does not seem well. She will not, it is true, admit any
indisposition, nor will she allow Dr. Reinsfeld to be summoned, but she
looked so pale and ill awhile ago when she came out of her father's
room, that I was quite alarmed."
She seemed to expect an answer, but Elmhorst continued to gaze towards
the bridge in silence.
"Surely you ought to forsake your work for to-day and see after your
betrothed."
"I have no longer the right to call Fraeulein Nordheim my betrothed,"
Wolfgang said, coldly.
"Herr Elmhorst!"
"Yes, Fraeulein von Thurgau. Differences of opinion have arisen between
the president and myself of so decided a character that any adjustment
is impossible. We have both withdrawn from the intended connection."
"And Alice?"
"She knows nothing of it as yet, at least through me. Possibly her
father may have acquainted her with the matter; in any case, she will
submit to his decision."
The words testified clearly to the nature of the strange alliance,
which had in fact existed only between Nordheim and his intended
son-in-law. Alice had been betrothed since the interests of both men
required that so it should be, and now when these interests no longer
existed the betrothal was dissolved without even referring the matter
to her; it was taken for granted that she would submit. Erna too seemed
to have no doubt upon the subject, but she changed colour at the
unexpected intelligence. "It has come, then, to this," she said,
softly.
"Yes, it has come to this. I was asked to pay a price far too high for
me or----, and I made my choice."
"I knew how you would choose!" the girl exclaimed, eagerly. "I never
doubted it!"
"Ah, you did me that justice, then!" Wolfgang said, with undisguised
bitterness. "I hardly expected it of you."
She made no reply, but there was reproach in her eyes; at last she
said, with hesitation, "And---what now?"
"Now I stand just where I did a year ago. The path which you once
pointed out to me with such enthusiasm lies open before me, and I shall
pursue it, but alone,--entirely alone."
Erna shivered slightly at his last words, but apparently she did not
choose to understand them; she interposed, hastily, "A man like
yourself is not alone. He has his talents and his future, and the
future before you is so grand and----"
"And as dreary and sunless as that mountain-world," he completed her
sentence, pointing to the autumnal, cloudy landscape. "But I have no
right to complain. It came to meet me once, happiness, brilliant and
sunlit, and I turned my back upon it to attain another goal. Then it
spread its wings and departed, soaring to unattainable heights; and
although I would give my very life for it, it never will come back to
me. Those who trifle with it lose it forever."
There was dull, aching misery in his voice as he made this confession,
but Erna had no word of reply for him, and no glance for the eyes
seeking her own. Pale and rigid, she gazed abroad into the misty
distance. Yes, he knew now where for him lay rest and happiness,--now,
when it was too late!
Wolfgang laid his hand upon the horse's mane: "Erna, one question
before we part. After my final interview with your uncle to-morrow I
shall, of course, not enter his house again, and you are going far away
with your husband. Do you look for happiness at his side?"
"At least I hope to confer happiness."
"And you?"
"Herr Elmhorst----"
"Ah, you need not repulse me so sternly! No self-interest lurks behind
my question. My sentence I listened to from your lips on that moonlit
night upon the Wolkenstein. Even were you free I should be hopeless,
for you never could forgive my wooing of another."
"No,--never!" The words were harsh in their decision.
"I know it, and hence these last words of warning. Ernst Waltenberg is
not the man to make such a woman as yourself happy. His love is rooted
in the egotism that is the basis of his entire nature. He never will
ask himself whether he may not be torturing by his jealous passion the
woman whom he loves, and how will you endure constant companionship
with a man to whom all the lofty ideals which are to you inspiration
are but dead ideas? At last I have learned to know--dearly as the
knowledge has been purchased--that there is something loftier and
better than the self which once bounded my horizon. He never will learn
this!"
Erna's lips quivered; she had long known it far better than any one
could tell her. But what availed such knowledge? For her also it was
too late.
"You are speaking of my betrothed, Herr Elmhorst," she said, in a tone
of reproof,--"and to me. Not another word of the kind, I entreat!"
Wolfgang bowed and retired: "You are right, Fraeulein von Thurgau; but
they were farewell words, and as such may be forgiven."
She inclined her head in assent, and was about to turn away, when
Waltenberg appeared on the edge of the forest, urging his horse towards
the pair. He and the engineer-in-chief exchanged the coldly courteous
greetings habitual to them in what had become their almost daily
intercourse. They spoke of the weather, and of the president's
arrival,--Ernst being now first aware of the barricade in the road.
"The men are unconscionably dilatory about their blasting," said
Wolfgang, glad to find an opportunity to cut short the interview. "I
will go and hasten them; you shall not have to wait long."
He hurried down the slope, but something seemed to be amiss with the
blasting, and the engineer who was directing the proceedings came
forward to explain matters to his chief. Wolfgang shrugged his
shoulders impatiently and passed on into the midst of the workmen,
apparently to examine the work himself.
Meanwhile, Waltenberg stayed with his betrothed, who asked him, "You
spoke with Gronau, then?"
"Yes, and I took no pains to conceal my surprise at finding him here,
since he had not been to see me in Heilborn, or informed me of his
return. In reply he begged me to see him this evening: he has something
to tell me, which he says concerns me in a certain sense. I am really
curious to know what it is. He is not wont to be oracularly mysterious.
Look, Erna, how dark and threatening the sky is above the Wolkenstein.
Will that storm not overtake us?"
"Hardly to-day," said Erna, with a glance towards the veiled
mountain-top. "To-morrow perhaps, or the day after. In spite of our
fine autumn, the tempests which our poor mountaineers so dread seem to
be setting in earlier than usual. We had a forerunner of them last
night."
"There must be something more than fable in the magic power of your
Alpine Fay," Ernst said, half in jest. "That cloudy peak, which is well
named, for it scarcely ever unveils, has actually cast a spell around
me. It allures and attracts me with a mysterious, wellnigh irresistible
charm, tempting me to lift the veil of the haughty Ice-Queen, and to
snatch from her the kiss hitherto denied to mortals. If one should try
that precipice on this side----"
"Ernst, you promised me to give up all such ideas forever," Erna
interposed.
"And I will keep my word. I promised you on St. John's eve."
"On St. John's eve," the girl repeated, softly, dreamily.
"Do you remember that evening when I yielded to your request? I had
resolved firmly upon an ascent of the Wolkenstein, but my resolution
vanished before the entreaty in your eyes,--your words. Would you
really have been distressed had I then disobeyed you?"
"But, Ernst, what a question!"
"It would not have been incumbent upon you then to be so; I was not
then your declared lover." There was again the old tormenting jealousy
in his voice. "You would probably have been distressed about Sepp or
Gronau if either of them had undertaken the ascent. I mean that
trembling anxiety which only assails one where one dearly loved is
concerned,--a dread before which all else pales and vanishes,--the
distress which would drive me blindly to encounter any danger if I knew
you exposed to it. I suppose you know nothing of that?"
"Why conjure up such fancies?" Erna said, half impatiently. "I have
your promise, and therefore no ground for distress. Why dwell upon an
'if'----?"
A crash as of thunder interrupted her. Below them earth and stones were
hurled into the air, and the huge mass of rock, split into three
fragments, fell apart with a dull thud, while on the instant a terrific
commotion arose. The assembled labourers rushed away from the bridge
towards the spot where the engineer-in-chief with his subordinate
officer had been standing an instant before. It was impossible to see
what had occurred; all that was to be perceived was a close group of
men, whence cries of alarm and dismay were heard.
But above them all there rang out such a shriek as is the utterance of
an agony of despair, and Ernst, turning, saw his betrothed, erect in
her saddle, every vestige of colour fled from her face, gazing towards
the spot where the catastrophe had occurred.
"Erna!" he exclaimed. She did not hear him, but gave her horse the
rein. The brute, terrified by the noise, shied and would not go
forward. A merciless cut with the whip forced it to obey, and the next
instant horse and rider were speeding down the slope towards the group
of men.
It parted at Erna's stormy approach; some of the labourers, who thought
the horse had become unmanageable from fright, seized it by the bridle
and stopped it. Erna seemed hardly aware of it; in mortal terror her
eyes sought only--Wolfgang! and on the instant she perceived him
standing quite unhurt in the midst of the throng.
He too had seen her as she broke through the crowd; he had recognized
the look that sought him out,--had heard the deep-drawn sigh of relief
when she found him uninjured,--and from his eyes there shot a ray of
passionate ecstasy. His mortal peril had revealed her secret,--she did
love him, then!
"Your fear was unfounded; the engineer-in-chief is unharmed," said
Ernst Waltenberg, who had followed his betrothed and had paused just
outside the throng. His voice sounded unnatural, his face was strangely
pale, and in the dark eyes now riveted upon Erna and Wolfgang there
gleamed an evil fire. Erna shivered, and Wolfgang turned hastily. It
needed but a glance to tell him that he was confronting a deadly foe;
yet appearances must be preserved in view of all these stranger eyes.
"The affair might have turned out badly," he said, with forced
composure. "The blast was tardy at first, and then took place before we
could get well away from it. Two of the men are wounded; I am glad to
know, only slightly. The rest of us escaped almost by a miracle."
"But you are bleeding, Herr Elmhorst," said one of the engineers,
pointing to Wolfgang's forehead, where two or three trickling drops of
blood were visible. The young man pressed his pocket-handkerchief upon
the wound, of which he had not before been aware.
"It is not worth mentioning; one of the stones must have grazed my
forehead. Have the wounds of those men bandaged immediately. Fraeulein
von Thurgau, I regret that the accident should have frightened you----"
"It frightened my horse, at least," Erna interposed, with ready
presence of mind. "It shied and ran; I could not control it."
The fiction was a plausible one and gained instant credence from the
bystanders, explaining as it did the sudden appearance of the young
lady and her evident terror and emotion. It was fortunate that the
frightened animal had been brought under control in time.
There were two men, however, who were not thus deceived,--Wolfgang, to
whom those few instants of alarm had revealed a certainty which came,
indeed, too late, but which he would not for worlds have relinquished,
and Ernst, who still maintained his place, closely observing the pair.
There was a contemptuous emphasis in his voice as he remarked,--
"We have been fortunately spared another catastrophe. Have you
recovered from your alarm, Erna?"
"Yes."
"Then we will continue our ride. _Au revoir_, Herr Elmhorst."
Wolfgang bowed formally, perfectly comprehending the significance of
that '_Au revoir_;' then he turned to see after the wounds of the two
men, which were in fact very slight, as was his own. A fragment of
stone had, as he said, merely grazed his forehead. The entire
occurrence seemed to have ended very fortunately.
But this was only seeming, as might have been clearly seen in
Waltenberg's countenance. He rode beside his betrothed in silence,
without even turning towards her; this went on for a quarter of an
hour, until Erna could bear it no longer.
"Ernst," she said, softly.
"Beg pardon?"
"Let us turn back. The skies are more threatening, and we can take the
mountain-road home."
"As you please."
They turned their horses into another road, and again complete silence
ensued. Erna was only too conscious that she had betrayed herself, but
she could have borne the wildest outburst of jealousy from her
betrothed rather than this gloomy silence, which was terrible. She did
not indeed fear for herself, but she saw that an explanation was
inevitable so soon as they should reach the house.
Her expectations were, however, disappointed, for at the door of the
villa, after Ernst had helped her to dismount, he got on his horse
again.
"You are going?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes. I need the open air this afternoon."
"Do not go, Ernst. I wanted to ask you----"
"Good-bye!" he interrupted her, curtly; and before she could make any
further attempt to detain him he was gone, leaving her a prey to a
vague anxiety in her ignorance of his intentions.
When Waltenberg reached the forest he checked his horse's speed and
rode on slowly beneath the dark pines, through the tops of which the
wind was whistling. He needed no further explanation; he knew
everything now,--everything! But in the midst of the tempest raging
within him he was aware of a savage satisfaction: the phantom which had
tortured him for so long had finally taken on flesh and blood. Now he
could assail and destroy it!