Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

"Otherwise would she have plighted her troth to me?" cried Eric. "I have already described to you, father, the extent to which she was idolized and courted, with the whole world at her feet, as it were. She had so many to choose from and chose me!"

"That is just what surprises me," said Dernburg, coolly. "You do not possess one of those shining qualities which girls of her claims and education covet. However, that may be–first of all, I want to get personally acquainted with Fräulein von Wildenrod and her brother. Let us invite them to Odensburg, and we shall see what will come of it. Meanwhile, I entreat that no greater publicity be given to the affair than it has already unfortunately attained."

So saying he left the room, and went into his library, which was immediately adjacent.

CHAPTER III.

"See the path is clear

To a grand career."

Eric remained alone. He had thrown himself into a chair, and rested his head in his hand. The manner in which his engagement had been taken at home depressed and disenchanted him. He had not thought of the possibility of objections, expecting that his father would hail his selection with joyful approval, instead of which investigations had been entered into, and doubts and scruples suggested. His father actually seemed to entertain serious mistrust, and evidently claimed, even now, the decisive voice. The young man fired up at the thought of his petted, idolized betrothed, and her haughty brother, being first put on probation, as it were, here at Odensburg, ere they should ultimately be admitted into their family. Just here the door was opened, and he started up from his reverie.

"Egbert!" he cried, joyfully springing to his feet, and hurrying to meet a young man, who came in with outstretched hand.

"Welcome home, Eric!"

"Yes, I have been away from it a long while, so long that I am quite a stranger in it," said Eric, returning the pressure of his hand, "and we have not seen one another for an eternity."

"I, too, have been away two years in England, only returning a short time ago. But first of all, how is your health now?"

Egbert Runeck was very little older than the young heir, but he had the appearance of being more mature by some years. His personnel made the impression of manly vigor in the highest degree, and his tall figure towered so over Eric's, that the latter had to look up when he spoke to him. His face, tanned by exposure to sun and wind, was anything but handsome, yet there was expression and energy in every feature. His light brown hair and full beard had a slightly reddish hue, and underneath a broad and massive brow shone a pair of dark-gray eyes, that had a peculiarly cold and earnest look. The man wore the air of one who had hitherto tasted only the toils of life, neither knowing nor seeking its pleasures. Moreover, there was something harsh and arrogant in his manner, that, toned down into mildness at this moment, was nevertheless the predominant trait of his whole mien. Such an appearance might be striking–attractive it was not.

"Oh, I am perfectly well again, thank you," said Eric, in answer to the inquiry after his health. "The journey has fatigued me some, of course; I am suffering, too, from the change of climate, but this is a mere passing annoyance."

Egbert's eyes were fastened upon his friend's face, that to-day looked rather pale and pinched, and his voice, too, softened as he replied:

"Certainly, you will have to get accustomed to the North, again."

"If it were only not so hard for me!" sighed Eric. "You do not know what held me fast in the sunny South so long and so irresistibly."

"Why, I guessed the truth easily enough, from those hints in your last letters–or is it to be a secret still?"

A bright, joyous smile flitted across Eric's features, while he gently shook his head.

"Not from you, Egbert. My father does not want it known at Odensburg for the present, but I may say to you, that, under the palms of the Riviera, on the shores of the blue Mediterranean, I have found happiness, such enchanting, fairy-like happiness as I never dreamed of before. If you could only see my Cecilia, with her ravishing beauty, her winning sweetness–Ah! there it is again, that cold, mocking laugh of yours, with which you used always to set at naught any romance, any warmth of feeling, you stern Cato you, who never have known nor ever will know love."

Runeck shrugged his shoulders.

"I have had to devote all my energies to work, from earliest youth, and the romantic seldom forms a large ingredient in such a life as that. The like of us has no time for what you call love."

This reckless remark hurt the feelings of the lover, who said excitedly:

"So, love is in your estimation only a pastime for the idle? You are the same old fellow, Egbert! To be sure, you never did believe in that mysterious, overpowering force, that irresistibly draws two people together, and binds them indissolubly together."

"No!" said Egbert, with an air of cool, almost mocking, superiority. "But do not let us dispute over it. You, with your soft heart, must give and receive love,–for you it is a necessity of life. I am not made for that sort of thing–have had other aims in view from the beginning–such as do not comport with dreamt of love. The name of your betrothed is Cecilia, then?"

"Cecilia von Wildenrod. What is the matter? Do you know the name?"

Runeck had certainly started when the name was pronounced, and the glance that he cast upon the friend of his youth was a peculiarly searching one.

"I believe I have heard it somewhere before," he replied. "The talk there was of a Baron von Wildenrod."

"My future brother-in-law, I suppose," said Eric with unconcern. "He belongs to a well-known family of the ancient nobility. But, first of all, you must see my Cecilia. I have introduced her to father and sister, at least, through her portrait."

He took a rather large likeness that lay on his father's desk, and handed it to his friend. Although the photograph was faithful, it had by no means the charm of the original, but it showed what a beauty she was, and the large, dark eyes looked full at the inspector. Egbert looked down upon it silently, without uttering a word, until meeting the expectant gaze of the girl's lover, he said:

"A very beautiful girl."

The tone in which he spoke these words was peculiarly frigid, and Eric was chilled by it, too. He knew, to be sure, that his old friend was not at all susceptible to the charms of female beauty, but, notwithstanding, he had calculated upon a warmer expression of admiration. They both stood by the desk–Runeck's glance fell accidentally upon a second photograph, that likewise lay there, and again there flitted across his features the same peculiar expression as a while ago, upon the mention of that name, a sudden shiver, that lasted but for an instant.

"And this one, here, I suppose, is the brother of your betrothed?" said he. "It may be seen by the likeness."

"That is Oscar von Wildenrod certainly, but, properly speaking, there is no likeness whatever. Cecilia does not resemble her brother in the least; their features are quite different."

"But the same eyes!" said Egbert slowly, continuing to regard the two pictures fixedly; then he suddenly pushed them from him, and turned away.

"And you have not even a congratulation for me?" asked Eric reproachfully, being mortified at this indifference.

"Pardon me, I forgot it. May you be happy, as happy as you deserve to be! But I must go to your father, who is expecting me, and requires, you know, undeviating punctuality."

He evidently wanted to cut short this interview. Eric, too, remembered now what was impending, and the subject that was to be brought into discussion.

"Father is in his library," he remarked, "and you know he will not be disturbed there. He has summoned you from Radefeld–do you know why?"

"I suspect so, at least. Has he spoken to you about it?"

"Yes, and from him I heard the first word on the subject, Egbert–for heaven's sake, be on your guard. You know my father, and are aware that he will never tolerate such a bent in his works."

"In general he tolerates no other bent than his own," rejoined Egbert coldly. "He never can nor will comprehend, that the boy, who has to thank him for education and culture, has become a man, who presumes to have his own views, and go his own way."

"This way seems to diverge very widely from ours," said Eric sadly. "But you did not give me the slightest intimation of this in your letters."

"Why should I? You had to be spared and guarded against excitement, and you would not have understood me, either, Eric. You have always shunned all the questions and conflicts of the present, while I have confronted them, and, of late years, stood in the very midst of them. If, thereby, a gulf has opened between us, I cannot help it."

"Do not say between us, Egbert! We are friends and must remain such, let happen what will. Think you that I have forgotten to whom I owe my life? Yes, I know you do not like to be reminded of it, but it ever abides in my memory–the plunge into the ice-cold flood, the deadly anguish, when the rushing waters overwhelmed me, and then the rescue, when your arm encircled me. I did not make it easy for you; I clutched you so convulsively, that I hardly left you room to move, and put you in extreme peril. Any other would have shaken off the dangerous burden, but you did not let me go, you held me with your mighty strength, and worked your way forward until we reached the blessed shore. That was an heroic deed for a lad of sixteen years."

"It put my powers as a swimmer to a good test, that was all," answered Runeck, declining any claim to merit. "I shook the water from my clothes and was all right again, while the shock and chill brought on you an illness that well-nigh proved fatal."

He broke off, for, just now Dernburg entered with a book in his hand, and responded to the young engineer's greeting as composedly as if there was no agitating subject to be broached between them.

"You enjoy meeting after your long separation, do you not?" asked he. "You see Eric for the first time to-day–how do you find him?"

"He looks rather delicate yet, and will have to be prudent for a while longer, it seems to me," said Runeck, with a glance at his friend's pale face.

"The doctor is of the same opinion. And to-day you do look especially feeble, Eric! Go to your room, and take a good rest."

The young man looked irresolutely from one to the other. He would gladly have stayed, to interpose some soothing word between these two, if the discussion grew too hot; but his father's direction sounded very peremptory, and now Egbert, also, said in a low tone: