Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

After his recovery, Egbert had left Odensburg and stayed away for a long while. He, like Dernburg, felt that the new future, about which they were fully agreed, was not to be linked immediately and unceremoniously to the past, seeing that many an inward wound must close up ere the outward one should be perfectly healed. The young engineer had traveled widely and spent a full year in America, where there was so much for him to see and learn. There he had completed the studies which he had once begun in England. Now, when at last he returned to Odensburg, his long waiting was at an end, and he dared to claim the good fortune that had once bloomed for him on the very verge of the grave; after a short engagement, his marriage with Cecilia took place in all quietness.

To-day the cheerful sounds betokening festivity were to be heard in the Manor-house, for they were looking for the return of the bridal pair from their wedding-trip. And Frau Dr. Hagenbach was just adding a few last touches to the preparations for their reception, that lady having retained her old intimate relations with the Dernburg household after her marriage. The rooms that were now fitted up for Egbert and Cecilia Runeck were entirely different from those that had once received Eric's betrothed, being situated on the opposite side of the house, and destined for their permanent abode.

Leonie placed a few more flowers in the reception-room. From the sickly, nervous, and rather wan old maid had emerged a smiling and graceful matron: Dr. Hagenbach having asserted his rights as a physician as well as husband, and completely cured his wife of those detested nervous attacks.

Frau Hagenbach had just completed her task, when the door opened and her husband entered. Wedded life seemed to have agreed well with him, too, for he had a highly contented look, while both his manners and mode of speech were changed for the better.–It was easy to see that he had gone to work in earnest to become "humanized." He nodded to his wife and said:

"I have come up only for a minute, to let you know that I have to visit one more patient first. It will not take me long, though, so that I shall be in time for the reception, anyhow."

"They will not arrive much before two o'clock," remarked his wife. "One more question, though, dear Hugo–have you considered that matter of Dagobert's?"

The doctor again made one of those grimaces, once so common with him, and his voice sounded rather gruff as he answered:

"There is nothing to be considered! I shall take care not to send the fellow the three hundred marks, that, according to his assertion, he needs so urgently. He must make out with the allowance that I have settled upon him, once for all."

"But the sum is not so large after all," objected Mrs. Hagenbach, "and in other respects you have no fault to find with Dagobert. He works industriously, writes to us frequently–"

"And still persistently reviles you in prose and verse," said Hagenbach, finishing her sentence for her. "To be sure no rational man would demean himself by being jealous of such a simpleton, although he did presume to write to me, after the reception of our wedding-cards, that I had inflicted a mortal wound upon his betrayed heart. A pierced heart does not, however, hinder him from hiding behind his aunt, when he wants to get anything out of me, the traitor, and she, alas! always takes his part. But this time nothing helps him–he does not get that money, so much is settled!"

Leonie did not contradict him, she only smiled with a submissive look, and let the subject drop.

"We shall be in the strictest seclusion to-day," she remarked. "Count Eckardstein is the only person invited."

"Well, I hope that means that we are soon to have another bride in the house, and that it will not be too long before a young countess makes her entrée into Eckardstein."

His wife shook her head dubiously. "I am afraid this is by no means settled. Herr Dernburg doubtless desires it, but Maia's demeanor is anything but encouraging. Who knows what answer she will give, if the Count actually proposes."

"But she cannot grieve forever over her former betrothed–she was little else than a child then."

"And yet his death very nearly cost her her life."

"Yes, a fine time we had of it, truly!" said Hagenbach with a sigh. "On one side there was Egbert, who for weeks hovered between life and death, on the other Fräulein Maia, likewise making preparations to die, and between them Madame Cecilia, who, one day, when Runeck was at the worst, coolly declared to me, that if I did not save her Egbert, she did not care to live longer, either. We did not have the jolliest of times during our engagement, did we, my dear? Thank God, it has been better since we were married. But I must be gone! I must go home. First, though, have you any order to give?"

"Only a trifle to be attended to. You were going to send the coachman to the station, you know–he can take with him the letter and post-office order."

"What post-office order?" asked the doctor, suspiciously.

"Why, the three hundred marks for Dagobert. I have already filled out the order, which is lying on your desk; you will have nothing to do but to supply the money–"

"I am not thinking of such a thing," cried the doctor, fuming.

"Yes, but you are thinking of it, though," protested Frau Dr. Hagenbach, with a decision, alas! that was not to be gainsaid. "You are only afraid of somewhat weakening your authority, and in this you are right, as you always are. Therefore I acted in your stead and wrote to Dagobert myself. It was done only for your sake, you perceive that, dear Hugo."

"Leonie, what are you thinking of?" exclaimed Hagenbach, irritably. "I have told you once, and now tell you again–"

He did not succeed in repeating his remark, however, for his wife interrupted him. "I know, Hugo, you are in the habit of representing yourself as hardhearted when you are goodness itself. You made up your mind long ago to send the poor youth that money, dear Hugo–"

The "dear Hugo" had learned many a thing already since he had entered the estate of matrimony. He never heard a contradiction, it is true, and everything was done exclusively out of deference to his will–this his wife told him daily, and he believed it, too, for the most part; but the Odensburg people were of a different opinion. In that village it was positively asserted, that "the madam ruled the roost." In this particular case, it is certain that the post-office order for three hundred marks was sent off in the course of the next hour.

In the parlor sat Maia Dernburg alone, at the window: at her feet lay the elderly Puck: he had become orderly and intelligent, and had entirely laid aside his inclination to attack in the rear men who wore plaid pantaloons. To be sure he was not so much teased as formerly; his young mistress stroked and caressed him still, it is true, but the merry romps that she used to carry on with him had long since ceased. In general, "little Maia" no longer existed, that fascinating childlike creature with exuberant spirits and laughing eyes. The slender, white-robed young lady there at the window certainly possessed great attractions, having developed from the laughing child into the quiet, gentle maiden, and in those brown eyes lay, as it were, deep, dark shadows, telling of a grief not yet altogether overcome.

It was quiet round about, and Maia was looking dreamily out upon the bright summer landscape, when her father entered. His hair had turned gray during these last years, but in every other respect he was the same erect, hale old man that we have known.

"Are you already on the lookout for the carriage?" he asked.

"No, papa, it is too early for that as yet," replied the young girl. "Egbert and Cecilia cannot be here for an hour yet, but as we have finished all our preparations for their reception–"

"So much the better, for then we shall have an hour to devote to our guest alone. Eckardstein is already here–over in my office."

"Ah! Why, then, did he not come with you?"

"Because he deemed it necessary to send me in advance, as his spokesman. We have had a long and interesting interview–am I to repeat to you what was said, or do you guess the tenor of our remarks?"

Maia had risen to her feet: she had become pale, while her eyes were full of entreaty as she fixed them upon her father.

"Papa–could you not spare me this?"

"No, my child," said Dernburg, earnestly. "Victor has determined to bring the matter to an issue, and you will be obliged to listen to his suit. He has begged me to intercede for him, and I have promised him to do so, for I owe him reparation for the injustice I once did him. He asked for leave to pay his addresses to you three years ago, although it did not come to an open declaration; in this wooing of a portionless young officer I saw nothing but calculation, and my insinuations made him feel very bitterly. He has proved, however, that his love was true and genuine. The lord-proprietor of Eckardstein needs to ask for no dowry with his bride, and I would gladly, very gladly, place my Maia's happiness in his hands."

"I should like to stay with you, papa," whispered the young girl, in painful agitation nestling up to his side. "Will you not keep me, then?"

"My child, we shall not be separated, even if you do become Victor's wife. You best know what has hitherto kept him aloof from Eckardstein: your consent would immediately determine him to resign his commission in the army, and henceforth devote himself to the care of his estates. Then we should still be together, Eckardstein is so near, you know."

"I cannot!" cried Maia, vehemently, while she drew herself up. "Oscar chained me indissolubly to himself in life, and I am not free from him in death, either! How often has my heart been heavy when I caught the expression of Victor's speaking eyes, not being able to misunderstand the mute plea that I read there–but I cannot be happy at the side of any other."

"There are only a few destined to be happy," said Dernburg, with strong emphasis, "but the duty of making others happy, when it is in our power, that duty belongs to us all. Victor knows what has happened, and does not demand of you that passionate love which linked you to Oscar–perhaps, he would not even understand it. But you are necessary to his happiness, and his faithful, honorable devotion is well worth the sacrifice of those memories. Of course, you are at full liberty to do as you choose, Maia–only consider this one thing: whoever would truly live, must also live for others!"

The young girl made no answer, a few large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks; the grave admonition had not been without effect.

"Well, what am I to say to the Count?" asked Dernburg, after a pause.

Mala pressed both hands to her heart, as though she would keep down a self-asserting pain there, then she bowed her head and answered, almost inaudibly:

"Tell him–that I am expecting him!"

Then she felt her father's lips upon her forehead, and folding her in his arms, he said with profound emotion:

"That is right, my poor–my brave child!"

Five minutes later Victor Eckardstein entered, almost unaltered in his outward appearance, save that his features were graver and more manly. Now, indeed, his whole manner bespoke nothing but excitement and uneasiness.

"Your father told me that I would find you alone, Maia," he began. "I have so much that I should like to confide to you, and yet know not whether you will listen to me."

Maia stood before him with downcast eyes; a slight blush mantled her cheek, as she bowed her head in acquiescence, without opening her lips.

The Count seemed to have expected some other sign of encouragement, for his voice acquired a touch of bitterness, as he continued:

"It has been hard enough for me to approach any other with my entreaties and desires, even although it was your father. But your manner to me has always been so distant, allowing me room for so little hope, that I did not dare to address to you first the question, on which the happiness of my life depends. I feel only too sensitively that here I needed an intercessor."