The Alpine Fay

A pause of a few seconds ensued. Thurgau made no reply; his furious anger seemed dissipated by the invincible composure of his opponent, who confronted him with perfect respect and an entire adherence to courtesy. But his clear voice had an inexorable tone, and the look which encountered that of the Freiherr with such cold resolve seemed to cast a spell upon Thurgau. He had hitherto shown himself entirely impervious to all persuasion, all explanation; he had, with all the obstinacy of his character, intrenched himself behind his rights, as impregnable, in his estimation, as the mountains themselves. To-day for the first time it occurred to him that his antagonism might be shattered, that he might be forced to succumb to a power that had laid its iron grasp thus upon the mountains. He leaned heavily upon the table again and struggled for breath, while speech seemed denied him.

"You may rest assured that we shall proceed with all possible regard for you," Wolfgang began again. "The preliminary work which we are about to undertake will scarcely disturb you, and during the winter you will be entirely unmolested; the construction of the road will not begin until the spring, and then, of course–"

"I must yield, you think," Thurgau interposed, hoarsely.

"Yes, you must, Herr Baron," said Elmhorst, coldly.

The fateful word, the truth of which instantly sank into his consciousness, robbed the Freiherr of the last remnant of composure; he rebelled against it with a violence that was almost terrifying, and that might well have caused a doubt as to his mental balance.

"But I will not,–will not, I tell you!" he gasped, almost beside himself "Let rocks and mountains make way before you, I will not yield. Have a care of our mountains, lest, when you are so arrogantly interfering with them, they rush down upon you and shatter all your bridges and structures like reeds. I should like to stand by and see the accursed work a heap of ruins; I should like–"

He did not finish his sentence, but convulsively clutched at his breast; his last word died away in a kind of groan, and on the instant the mighty frame fell prostrate as if struck by lightning.

"Good God!" exclaimed Dr. Reinsfeld, who had appeared at the door of the next room just as the last sentences were being uttered, and who now hurried in. But Erna was before him; she first reached her father, and threw herself down beside him with a cry of terror.

"Do not be distressed, Fräulein Erna," said the young physician, gently pushing her aside, while with Elmhorst's help he raised the unconscious man and laid him on the sofa. "It is a fainting-fit,–an attack of vertigo such as the Herr Baron had a few weeks ago. He will recover from this too."

The young girl had followed him, and stood beside him with her hands convulsively clasped and her eyes riveted upon the face of the speaker. Perhaps she saw there something that contradicted the consoling words.

"No, no!" she gasped. "You are deceiving me; this is something else! Papa! papa! it is I. Do you not know your Erna?"

Benno made no rejoinder, but tore open Thurgau's coat; Elmhorst would have helped him, but Erna thrust away his hand with violence.

"Do not touch him!" she exclaimed, in half-stifled accents. "You have killed him, you have brought ruin to our household. Leave him! I will not let you even touch his hand!"

Wolfgang involuntarily recoiled and looked in dismay that was almost terror at the girl, who at this moment was no longer a child. She had thrown herself before her father with outspread arms as if to shield and defend him, and her eyes flashed with savage hatred as though she were confronting a mortal foe.

"Go, Wolfgang," Reinsfeld said in a low tone, as he led him away. "The poor child in her anguish is unjust, and, moreover, you must not stay. The Baron may possibly recover consciousness, and if so he must not see you."

"May recover?" Elmhorst repeated. "Do you fear–"

"The worst! Go, and send old Vroni here; she must be somewhere in the house. Wait outside, and I will bring you tidings as soon as possible."

With these whispered words he conducted his friend to the door. Wolfgang silently obeyed; he sent into the room the old maid-servant, whom he found in the hall, and then went out into the open air, but there was a dark cloud on his brow. Who could have foreseen such an issue!

A quarter of an hour might have elapsed, when Benno Reinsfeld again made his appearance. He was very pale, and his eyes, usually so clear, were suffused.

"Well?" Wolfgang asked, quickly.

"It is all over!" the young physician replied in an undertone. "A stroke of apoplexy, undoubtedly mortal. I saw that at once."

Wolfgang was apparently unprepared for this reply; his lips quivered as he said in a strained voice, "The affair is intensely painful, Benno, although I am not in the least to blame. I went to work with the greatest caution. The president must be informed."

"Certainly; he is the only near relative, so far as I know. I shall stay with the poor child, who is suffering intensely. Will you undertake to send a messenger to Heilborn?"

"I will drive over myself to inform Nordheim. Farewell."

"Farewell," said Benno, as he returned to the house.

Wolfgang turned to go, but suddenly paused and walked slowly to the window, which was half open.

Within the room Erna was on her knees, with her hands clasped about her father's body. The passionate man who had been standing here but one short quarter of an hour ago in full vigour, obstinately resisting a necessity, now lay motionless, all unconscious of the despairing tears of his orphan child. Fate had decreed that his words should be true; Wolkenstein Court had remained in the possession of the ancient race whose cradle it had been until the last Thurgau had closed his eyes forever.

CHAPTER V.

THE LOVER AND THE SUITOR

The house which President Nordheim occupied in the capital bore abundant testimony in its princely magnificence to the wealth of its possessor. It reared its palatial proportions in the most fashionable quarter of the city, and had been built by one of the first architects of the day; there was lavish splendour in its interior arrangements, and a throng of obsequious lackeys was always at hand; in short, nothing was wanting that could minister to the luxurious life of its inmates.

At the head of the household the Baroness Lasberg had held sway for years. Widowed and without means, she had been quite willing to accept such a position in the establishment of the wealthy parvenu to whom she had been recommended by some one of her highborn relatives. Here she was perfectly free to rule as she pleased, for Nordheim, with all his strength of will, could not but regard it as a great convenience to have a lady of undoubted birth and breeding control his servants, receive his guests, and supply the place of mother to his daughter and niece. For three years Erna von Thurgau had now been living beneath the roof of her uncle, who was also her guardian, and who had taken her to his home immediately after the death of her father.

The president was in his study, talking with a gentleman seated opposite him, one of the first lawyers in the city and the legal adviser of the railway company of which Nordheim was president. He seemed also to belong among the intimates of the household, for the conversation was conducted upon a footing of familiarity, although it concerned chiefly business matters.

"You ought to discuss this with Elmhorst personally," said the president. "He can give you every information upon the subject."

"Is he here?" asked the lawyer, in some surprise.

"He has been here since yesterday, and will probably stay for a week."

"I am glad to hear it; our city seems to possess special attractions for the Herr Superintendent; he is often here, it seems to me."

"He certainly is, and in accordance with my wishes. I desire to be more exactly informed with regard to certain matters than is possible by letter. Moreover, Elmhorst never leaves his post unless he is certain that he can be spared; of that you may be sure, Herr Gersdorf."

Herr Gersdorf, a man of about forty, very fine-looking, with a grave, intellectual face, seemed to think his words had been misunderstood, for he smiled rather ironically as he rejoined, "I certainly do not doubt Herr Elmhorst's zeal in the performance of duty. We all know he would be more apt to do too much than too little. The company may congratulate itself upon having secured in its service so much energy and ability."

"It certainly is not owing to the company that it is so," said Nordheim, with a shrug. "I had to contest the matter with energy when I insisted upon his nomination, and his position was at first made so difficult for him, that any other man would have resigned it. He met with determined hostility on all sides."

"But he very soon overcame it," said Gersdorf, dryly. "I remember the storm that raged among his fellow-officials when he assumed authority over them, but they gradually quieted down. The Herr Superintendent is a man of unusual force of character, and has contrived to gather all the reins into his own hand in the course of the last three years. It is pretty well known now that he will tolerate no one as his superior or even equal in authority, save only the engineer-in-chief, who is now entirely upon his side."

"I do not blame him for his ambition," the president said, coolly. "Whoever wishes to rise must force his way. My judgment did not play me false when it induced me to confirm in so important an office, in spite of all opposition, a man so young. The engineer-in-chief was prejudiced against him, and only yielded reluctantly. Now he is glad to have so capable a support; and as for the Wolkenstein bridge,–Elmhorst's own work,–he may well take first rank upon its merits."

"The bridge promises to be a masterpiece indeed," Gersdorf assented. "A magnificently bold structure; it will doubtless be the finest thing in the entire line of railway. So you wish me to speak with the superintendent himself; shall I find him at his usual hotel?"

"No, at present you will find him here. I have invited him to stay with us this time."

"Ah, indeed?" Gersdorf smiled. He knew that officials of Elmhorst's rank were sometimes obliged to await Nordheim's pleasure for hours in his antechamber; this young man had been invited to be a guest beneath his roof. Still more wonderful stories were told of his liking for Elmhorst, who had been his favourite from the first.

For the present, however, the lawyer let the matter drop, contenting himself with remarking that he would see Herr Elmhorst shortly. He had other and more important affairs in his head apparently, for he took his leave of the president rather absently, and seemed in no hurry to seek out the young engineer; the card which he gave to the servant in the hall was for the ladies of the house, whom he asked to see.

The reception-rooms were in the second story, where Frau von Lasberg was enthroned in the drawing-room in all her wonted state. Alice was seated near her, very little changed by the past three years. She was still the same frail, pale creature, with a weary, listless expression on her regular features,–a hot-house plant to be guarded closely from every draught of air, an object of unceasing care and solicitude for all around her. Her health seemed to be more firmly established, but there was not a gleam of the freshness or enthusiasm of youth in her colourless face.

There was no want of them, however, to be detected in the young lady seated beside the Baroness Lasberg, a graceful little figure in a most becoming walking-suit of dark blue trimmed with fur. A charming, rosy face looked out from beneath her blue velvet hat; the eyes were dark, and sparkling with mischief, and a profusion of little black curls showed above them. She laughed and talked incessantly with all the vivacity of her eighteen years.

"Such a pity that Erna is out!" she exclaimed. "I had something very important to discuss with her. Not a syllable of it shall you hear, Alice; it is to be a surprise for your birthday. I hope we are to have dancing at your ball?"

"I hardly think so," said Alice, indifferently. "This is March, you know."

"But the middle of winter, nevertheless. It snowed only this morning, and dancing is always delightful." As she spoke, her little feet moved as if ready for an instant proof of her preference. Frau von Lasberg looked at them with disapprobation, and remarked, coldly,–

"I believe you have danced a great deal this winter, Baroness Molly."

"Not nearly enough," the little Baroness declared. "How I pity poor Alice for being forbidden to dance! It is good to enjoy one's youth; when you're married there's an end of it. 'Marry and worry,' our old nurse used to say, and then burst into tears and talk of her dear departed. A mournful maxim. Do you believe in it, Alice?"

"Alice bestows no thought upon such matters," the old lady observed, severely. "I must frankly confess to you, my dear Molly, that this topic seems to me quite unbecoming."

"Oh!" exclaimed Molly "do you consider marriage unbecoming, then, madame?"

"With consent and approval of parents, and a due regard for every consideration,–no."

"But it is just then that it is most tiresome!" the young lady asserted, rousing even Alice from her indifference.

"But, Molly!" she said, reproachfully.

"Baroness Ernsthausen is jesting, of course," said Frau von Lasberg, with an annihilating glance. "But even in jest such talk is extremely reprehensible. A young lady cannot be too guarded in her expressions and conduct. Society is, unfortunately, too ready to gossip."

Her words had, perhaps, some concealed significance, for Molly's lips quivered as if longing to laugh, but she replied with the most innocent air in the world,–

"You are perfectly right, madame. Just think, last summer everybody at Heilborn was gossiping about the frequent visits of Superintendent Elmhorst. He came almost every week–"

"To see the Herr President," the old lady interposed. "Herr Elmhorst had made the plans and drawings for the new villa in the mountains and was himself superintending its construction; frequent consultations were unavoidable."

"Yes, everybody knew that, but still they gossiped. They talked about Herr Elmhorst's baskets of flowers and other attentions, and they said–"

"I must really beg you, Baroness, to spare us further details," Frau von Lasberg interposed, rising in indignant majesty. The inconsiderate young lady would probably have received a much longer reprimand had not a servant announced that the carriage was waiting. Frau von Lasberg turned to Alice: "I must go to the meeting of the Ladies' Union, my child, and of course you cannot drive out in this rough weather. Moreover, you seem to be rather out of sorts; I fear–"

A very significant glance completed her sentence, and testified to her earnest desire for the visitor's speedy departure, but quite in vain.

"I will stay with Alice and amuse her," Molly declared, with amiable readiness. "You can go without any anxiety, madame."

Madame compressed her lips in mild despair, but she knew from experience that there was no getting rid of this enfant terrible if she had taken it into her head to stay; therefore she kissed Alice's forehead, inclined her head to her young friend, and made a dignified exit.

Scarcely had the door closed after her when Molly danced about like an india-rubber ball with, "Thank God, she has gone, high and mighty old duenna that she is! I have something to tell you, Alice, something immensely important,–that is, I wanted to confide it to Erna, but, unfortunately, she is not here, and so you must help me,–you must! or you will blast forever the happiness of two human beings!"

"Who? I?" asked Alice, who at such a tremendous appeal could not but open her eyes.

"Yes, you; but you know nothing yet. I must explain everything to you, and there goes twelve o'clock, and Albert will be here in a moment,–Herr Gersdorf, I mean. The fact is, he loves me, and I love him, and of course we want to marry each other, but my father and mother will not consent because he is not noble. Good heavens, Alice, do not look so surprised! I learned to know him in your house, and it was in your conservatory that he proposed to me a week ago, when that famous violinist was playing in the music-room and all the other people were listening."

"But–" Alice tried to interpose, but without avail; the little Baroness went on, pouring out the story of her love and her woes.

"Do not interrupt me; I have told you nothing yet. When we went home that evening I told my father and mother that I was betrothed, and that Albert was coming the next day to ask their consent. Oh, what a row there was! Papa was indignant, mamma was outraged, and my granduncle fairly snorted with rage. He is a hugely-important person, my granduncle, because he is so very rich, and we shall have his money. But he must die first, and he has no idea of dying, which is very bad for us, papa says, for we have nothing; papa never makes out with his salary, and my granduncle, while he lives, never will give us a penny. There, now you understand!"

"No, I do not understand at all," said Alice, fairly stupefied by this overwhelming stream of confidence. "What has your granduncle to do with it?"

Molly wrung her hands in despair at this lack of comprehension: "Alice, I entreat you not to be so stupid! I tell you they actually passed sentence upon me. Mamma said she was threatened with spasms at the mere thought of my ever being called Frau Gersdorf; papa insisted that I must not throw myself away, because at some future time I should be a great match, at which my granduncle made a wry face, not much edified by this reference to the heirship, and then he went on to make a greater row than any one else about the mésalliance. He enumerated all our ancestors, who would one and all turn in their graves. What do I care for that? let the old fellows turn as much as they like; it will be a change for them in their tiresome old ancestral vault. Unfortunately, I took the liberty of saying so, and then the storm burst upon me from all three sides at once. My granduncle raised his hand and made a vow, and then I made one too. I stood up before him, so,"–she stamped her foot on the carpet,–"and vowed that never, never would I forsake my Albert!"

The little Baroness was forced to stop for a moment to take breath, and she availed herself of this involuntary pause to run to the window, whence came the sound of a carriage rolling away; then flying back again, she exclaimed, "She has gone,–the duenna. Thank God, we are rid of her! She suspects something; I knew it by the remarks with which she favoured me this morning! But she has gone for the present; her meeting will last for at least two hours. I reckoned upon that when I laid my plans. You must know, Alice, that I have been strictly forbidden either to speak or to write to Albert; of course I wrote to him immediately, and I must speak with him besides. So I made an appointment with him here in your drawing-room, and you must be the guardian angel of our love."

Alice did not appear greatly charmed by the part thus assigned her. She had listened to the entire story in a way which positively outraged the eager Molly, without any 'ah's' or 'oh's,' and in mute astonishment that such things could be. A betrothal without, and even against, the consent of parents was something quite outside of the young lady's power of comprehension. Frau von Lasberg's training did not admit of such ideas. So she sat upright, and said, with a degree of decision, "No, that would not be proper."

"What would not be proper? your being a guardian angel?" Molly exclaimed, indignantly. "Are you going to betray my confidence? Do you wish to drive us to despair and death? For we shall die, both of us, if we are parted. Can you answer it to your conscience?"

Fortunately, there was no time to settle this question of conscience, for Herr Gersdorf was announced, and there was a distressing moment of hesitation. Alice really seemed inclined to declare that she was ill and could not receive the visitor, but Molly, in dread of some such disaster, advanced and said aloud and quite dictatorially, "Show Herr Gersdorf in."

The servant vanished, and with a sigh Alice sank back again in her arm-chair. She had done her best, and had tried to resist, but since the words were thus taken out of her mouth she was not called upon for further effort, but must let the affair take its course.

Herr Gersdorf entered, and Molly flew to meet him, ready to be clasped in his arms, instead of which he kissed her hand respectfully, and, still retaining it in his clasp, approached the young mistress of the house.

"First of all, Fräulein Nordheim, I must ask your forgiveness for the extraordinary demands which my betrothed has made upon your friendship. You probably know that, after her consent to be my wife, I wished immediately to procure that of her parents, but Baron Ernsthausen has refused to see me."

"And he locked me up," Molly interpolated, "for the entire forenoon."

"I then wrote to the Baron," Gersdorf continued, "and made my proposal in due form, but received in return a cold refusal without any statement of his reasons therefor. Baron Ernsthausen wrote me–"

"A perfectly odious letter," Molly again interposed, "but my granduncle dictated it. I know he did, for I listened at the keyhole!"

"At all events it was a refusal; but, since Molly has freely accorded me her heart and hand, I shall assuredly assert my rights, and therefore I believed myself justified in availing myself of this opportunity of seeing my betrothed, although without the knowledge of her parents. Once more I entreat your forgiveness, Fräulein Nordheim. Be sure that we shall not abuse your kindness."

It all sounded so frank, so cordial and manly, that Alice began to find the matter far more natural, and in a few words signified her acquiescence. She could not indeed comprehend how this grave, reserved man, who seemed absorbed in the duties of his profession, had fallen in love with Molly, who was like nothing but quicksilver, nor that his love was returned, but there was no longer any doubt of the fact.

"You need not listen, Alice," Molly said, consolingly. "Take a book and read, or if you really do not feel quite well, lay your head back and go to sleep. We shall not mind it in the least, only do not let us be interrupted."

With which she led the way to the recess of a window half shut off from the room by Turkish curtains looped aside. Here the conversation of the lovers was at first carried on in whispers, but the vivacious little Baroness soon manifested her eagerness by louder tones, so that at last Alice could not choose but hear. She had taken up a book, but it dropped in her lap as the terrible word 'elopement' fell on her ear.

"There is no other way," Molly said, as dictatorially as when she had ordered the servant to admit her lover. "You must carry me off, and it must be the day after to-morrow at half-past twelve. My granduncle leaves for his castle at that time, and my father and mother go with him to the railway-station; they always make so much of him. Meanwhile, we can slip off conveniently. We'll travel as far as Gretna Green, wherever that is,–I have read that there are no tiresome preliminaries to be gone through with there,–and we can return as man and wife. Then all my dead ancestors may stand on their heads, and so may my granduncle, for that matter, if I may only belong to you."

This entire scheme was advanced in a tone of assured conviction, but it did not meet with the expected approval; Gersdorf said, gravely and decidedly,–

"No, Molly, that will not do."

"Not? Why not?"

"Because there are laws and injunctions which expressly forbid such romantic excursions. Your fanciful little brain has no conception as yet of life and its duties; but I know them, and it would ill become me, whose vocation it is to defend the law, to trample it underfoot."

"What do I care for laws and injunctions?" said Molly, deeply offended by this cool rejection of her romantic scheme. "How can you talk of such prosaic things when our love is at stake? What are we to do if papa and mamma persist in saying no?"

"First of all we must wait until your granduncle has really gone home. There is nothing to be done with that stiff old aristocrat; in his eyes I, as a man without a title, am perfectly unfitted to woo a Baroness Ernsthausen. As soon as his influence is no longer present in your household I shall surely have an interview with your father, and shall try to overcome his prejudice; it will be no easy task, but we must have patience and wait."