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"Herr Runeck–the master's family from Odensburg."

Egbert looked up, in expectation of seeing the wagon of Dernburg, who frequently came out to inspect the condition of the works, but suddenly gave such a violent start that the old man looked up in surprise.

Over at the entrance to the ravine Eric Dernburg and Cecilia Wildenrod had halted, on horseback, while the groom had dismounted, and had firmly by the bridle their animals, who seemed to have been made unruly by the noise of the blasting. The young engineer, meanwhile, had quickly recovered from his surprise, and went across to pay his respects to his waiting visitors. Eric cordially stretched out his hand.

"We have kept our word, Egbert, and come upon you without any warning. Will you allow us an insight into your province?"

"I shall be delighted to be of the least service," replied Runeck, while he bowed to the young lady, who now gracefully and lightly swung herself out of the saddle, and in doing so hardly touched the proffered hand of her betrothed.

"We stopped at Radefeld and through the open windows cast a glance in at your lodgings, Herr Runeck," said she. "Dear me, what surroundings! Do you really intend to spend the whole summer there?"

"Why not?" asked Egbert composedly. "We engineers are sometimes here, sometimes there, and have to accept work wherever it is offered."

"But you have your comfortable home at Odensburg, and a carriage is always at your disposal. Why do you not stay there?"

"Because then I would daily lose three hours in going and coming. I have my books and works at Radefeld, and as for the rest I am entirely independent of my surroundings."

"Yes, you are a Spartan by constitution, physically as well as intellectually," said Eric with a sigh. "I wish that I could do like you, but, alas! there is no chance of that. I have gotten too much spoiled at the South and must now do penance."

He drew himself up and shivered; evidently he suffered more from his native climate than he himself was willing to confess. He looked pale and worn, the ride through the woods seeming to have been an exertion to him rather than a pleasure.

So much the more blooming appeared the young lady by his side. For her the brisk, rather long, ride had been only an exhilaration, and she had reined her horse in impatiently enough out of respect to Eric. She had been accustomed to race at full-speed, having been tutored into this by her brother, and she did not understand how any one could be cautious and circumspect in riding like Eric. As for the rest, she was beaming with cheerfulness and high spirits, even Egbert was treated with perfect amiability, not a look, not a word, reminded of that disagreement when they first met.

The laborers reverentially greeted the young master and his promised bride, whom all eyes followed with admiration. Even here Cecilia's beauty celebrated a triumph, only Egbert Runeck seemed perfectly insensible to its charms.

He became their guide through grounds in the act of being laid out, taking pains to show his guests whatever was worth seeing, but he observed towards the Baroness Wildenrod the same cold reserve as before, and turned mostly to Eric; in him, to be sure, he did not have a particularly attentive listener. The young heir showed only a faint, half-forced sympathy in all these things, with which he should properly have felt himself identified.

"It is incredible, the quantity of work that you have all done in these few weeks," said he, finally, with genuine admiration. "That would be something for my brother-in-law, who now buries himself all day in the Odensburg works and has regularly constituted himself my father's assistant. I would never have believed that Oscar had so keen a relish for such things."

Runeck did not answer, but his lip curled contemptuously at these last words. Eric, who did not observe this, continued in the most unembarrassed way:

"One thing more, Egbert, we recently made an excursion into the mountains, and some of our party noticed that the great cross on the Whitestone had sunk. Father wishes the matter to be carefully looked into, so that no accident may happen. Is there any one among your people here, who will undertake the dangerous task?"

"Certainly," assented Runeck. "It would be very perilous, if that heavy cross should one day fall from that high cliff, since the road runs along just below. I shall go up and see about it myself in the course of the next few days."

"Upon the Whitestone?" asked Cecilia, whose attention had been awakened. "How is that? They say it is inaccessible."

"Assuredly it is for ordinary people," mocked Eric. "One's name must be Egbert Runeck to undertake such a walk on our most dangerous cliff. I believe he has been up there already three or four times."

"I am practiced in mountain-climbing," said Egbert composedly. "When a boy I used to be familiar with every cliff and mountain of my native district, and that is knowledge which is not unlearned. As for the rest, the Whitestone is not inaccessible, it only demands a steady head, clear eye and the necessary fearlessness, then the way is to be forced."

"Dear me, do not say that!" cried Eric laughing, but yet with a certain unrest. He really feared lest Cecilia might be seized with one of those madcap fancies by which she had recently so frightened him. "She was wild to go to the top of the Whitestone."

Runeck seemed to think this project something unheard of, he looked doubtingly and in surprise upon the young lady, who replied in a haughty tone:

"Why, yes! I should like just for once to stand on such a dizzy height, immediately above that abrupt precipice. It must be a thrillingly sweet sensation! Eric was horrified at the bare idea."

"Cecilia, you torture me with such jests!"

"How do you know that it is a jest? And suppose I act upon it in earnest–would you go with me?"

"I?" The young man looked as if he thought they expected him to jump down from the cliff in question. About the lips of his betrothed played a half-compassionate, half-contemptuous smile; almost imperceptibly she elevated her shoulders.

"Compose yourself, pray! I shall not demand such a proof of love–I would go alone."

"Let me implore you, Cecile, not to think of such a thing!" exclaimed Eric, now alarmed in good earnest, but Egbert interrupted him with quiet decision.

"You need not disturb yourself on that score. That is no path for the dainty feet of a lady to tread. Baroness Wildenrod will hardly make the attempt, and, if she should do so, she would give it up again in five minutes."

"Cecilia tossed her head, and her eyes flashed as she asked in a peculiar tone:

"Are you so certain of that, Herr Runeck?"

"Yes, noble lady, for I know the Whitestone."

"But you do not know me!"

"May be so."

Cecilia started, the answer seemed to surprise her, but her glance strayed to her betrothed, and she laughed scornfully.

"Do not look so miserable, Eric! All this is only bantering! I am not thinking of the Whitestone and its break-neck cliffs.–How do you manage, really, Herr Runeck, when you blow up these colossal masses of rock?"

Eric breathed more freely after the conversation had taken this new turn. He was already accustomed to being put on the rack by various whims and wild ideas suggested by his promised bride, that had no substantial basis, however, and were never to be taken seriously. Being restored to his composure now, he turned to the old inspector, who stood close by, expecting, evidently, to be noticed.

Old Mertens had served the father of the present chief, and now they had given him to perform the light and lucrative duties of an upper-inspector of the Radefeld works. Eric, who had known him from childhood, spoke kindly to him, making particular inquiries after his family, and afterwards greeted with the same kindliness the other workmen within speaking distance. Any stranger seeing him stand thus among the people, with stooping gait, delicate, worn features and almost timid manner, would never in the world have suspected him of being the future lord of Odensburg. There was nothing of the master at all about him.

Perhaps Baroness Wildenrod had imbibed this same impression, for her delicately-arched eyebrows contracted as though from displeasure, and then her glance turned slowly to the young engineer, who stood in front of her. Hitherto she had only seen him in company-suit, to-day he wore a gray woolen jacket and high-top boots, such as wind and weather asked for, but he gained wonderfully by this simple garb. It matched so admirably with the bold manliness of his appearance; here on his own territory his individuality was most strikingly manifest. The first glance showed that here it was his to command, and that he was fully equal to the trust reposed in him; the diminutive form of the friend of his youth shrank into nothingness at his side.

He gave the explanation desired, fully and in detail, illustrating what he said by showing the mine already laid to that part of the cliff which still stood erect, yet in doing this, he turned his whole attention to the rocks and had hardly a look to bestow upon his fair listener, who now said smilingly:

"We saw the blasting from over yonder, and the explosion was extremely effective. You were enthroned yonder on the height like the mountain-sprite in his own person–all the others like ministering gnomes at your feet–a wave of your hand, and with the sound of muffled thunder the cliffs were split and sank in ruins–a genuine glimpse of fairyland!"

"Why, do you know anything of the tales and legends of our mountains?" asked Egbert coolly. "I really would not have supposed it."

"Only Maia is to be thanked for it. She has introduced me into the legends of her native hills, and I verily believe the little thing believes them to be solidly true. Maia sometimes is still a real child."

These last words sounded very scornful. The slender young lady who stood there, leaning against the wall of rock, in a stylish riding-habit of silver-gray, with hat and plumes to match, could not, by any means, be accused of being a child. Even here she was the lady of fashion and distinction, who was making it her pastime just to see for once how the sons of labor lived and delved. And yet she was ensnaringly beautiful, despite her pride and self-consciousness; radiant and certain of conquest she stood before the man who alone seemed to have neither eye nor ear for charms that had never elsewhere played her false. Perhaps it was this very insensibility which attracted the spoiled girl, who now continued in taunting tone:

"When I beheld that telling picture of which you formed the center, I could not help thinking of the old saying about the caper-spurge. That is the mysterious magic wand of the mountains, to which every bolt yields and every cavern opens. And then the buried treasures of the earth shine and beckon to the chosen one, who is to bring them to the light.

 
'He takes from night and darkness
Their treasures, hidden deep,
And he those jewels sparkling
And all that gold may keep.'
 

What think you–has not Maia had an apt scholar?"

She looked at him smilingly as she repeated the verse of that old song which told of the all-powerful enchanting rod, but the young engineer's manner did not soften, in spite of all her blandness. His face, embrowned by exposure to sun and wind, was a shade paler, perhaps, than usual, but his voice sounded cool and self-controlled, as he answered:

"Our time no longer has need of an enchanter's wand. It has found another sort of one for splitting rocks and opening the earth–You see it, do you not?"

"Yes, indeed. I see bald destruction, rubbish and splintered quartz–but the treasures stay buried below."

"It is empty and dead below–there are no longer any buried treasures."

The answer had a harsh and joyless sound, and the tone in which it was spoken did not soften its asperity.

"Perhaps it is only because the magical word has been lost, without which the wand remains powerless," answered Cecilia lightly, without observing, apparently, his forbidding manner. "Do you not think so, Herr Runeck?"

"I think, Baroness Wildenrod, that the world of fairies and magicians has long been left behind us. We no longer comprehend it, and no longer want to comprehend it."

There was something almost menacing in these apparently insignificant words. Cecilia bit her lips, and through the sunny brightness of her smile there gleamed a flash of hostility from her eyes, but then she laughed gayly.

"How grim that sounds! The poor gnomes and dwarfs have a determined enemy, I perceive. Only hear, Eric, how your friend denounces the whole legendary world."

"Yes, it is not worth while to approach Egbert with such things," said Eric, who just now came up. "He has no opinion of poetry, either, that one cannot make by line and plummets, nor needs to draw plans for–therefore he regards it as a highly superfluous thing. I have not yet forgiven him for the way in which he took the news of my engagement–actually, with formal commiseration! And when I indignantly hurled at him the reproach that he knew nothing about love, nor cared to know it either–would you believe that I got for answer a frigid 'No.'"

Cecilia fixed her large, dark eyes upon the young engineer, and again that demoniacal spark flashed in them as she said smilingly:

"And were you really in earnest, Herr Runeck?"

Some seconds elapsed ere he answered. He seemed yet paler than awhile ago, but his eye met that look fully and darkly, while he coldly replied:

"Yes, Baroness Wildenrod."

"There, you hear it for yourself," cried Eric, half-laughing, half vexed. "He is as hard as these rocks."

The young lady tapped lightly with her riding-whip against the pile of rocks that lay heaped up in front of her.

"Maybe. But rocks, too, can be brought to yield, we see. Take heed, Herr Runeck, you have mocked and defied those mysterious powers–they will have their revenge!"

The words should have sounded playful, and yet there was a perceptible breath of defiance in them. Egbert answered not a word, while Eric looked in amazement from one to the other.

"Of what were you talking?" asked he.

"We were speaking of the caper-spurge, which cleaves rocks asunder, and unlocks the hidden treasures of earth.–But I think we had better go now, if you approve."

Eric assented, and then turned to Runeck.

"There is to be more blasting, I perceive; wait, though, before you apply the match, until we get beyond the region of the ravine. Our horses were made very unmanageable by it awhile ago, the groom could hardly hold them."

Again that wicked and contemptuous smile played about Cecilia's lips, for she had been quick to note awhile ago, that Eric had nervously started at the dull sounds of the explosion and had summoned the groom to his side. Her horse, too, had become very restive, but she had held it firmly in with the bit. Meanwhile she suppressed any remark and only said, while Egbert guided her and Eric to the place where the horses stood:

"Accept our thanks for your friendly guidance and explanation. You will be glad to be rid of such disturbing guests."

Runeck bowed low and formally.

"Oh, do not speak of it, I pray. Eric is here as proprietor on his own estate, there can be no talk of disturbance."

"And yet it would seem so. You were fairly shocked, when you caught sight of us in the entrance to the ravine."

"I? Have you such sharp eyes, noble lady?"

"Oh, yes, Eric often teases me about my 'falcon-glance.'"

"In this case, however, your sight deceived you. I was only anxious, when I caught sight of you so near–horses are so easily frightened by blasting."

The riding-whip struck impatiently against the folds of her silver-gray habit. Did that rock resist everything?

Meanwhile they had reached the spot where their horses were tied. Cecilia and Eric mounted. The former nodded slightly an adieu, then applied her switch sharply to her beautiful roan, The fiery animal reared, and immediately set off at a gallop, so that the other could hardly follow him.

They were still visible for about five minutes, on the forest-road that led to Radefeld. Like some apparition flew the slender girlish figure on the back of her racing steed, with her habit fluttering and the plumes in her hat streaming behind. Once more she was seen at the bend, then the forest closed behind her.

Egbert was still standing motionless in his place, looking with fixed and burning eyes upon that road through the woods. His lips were firmly compressed, and on his features rested a singular expression, as though of stifled pain or wrath: finally, he straightened himself up and turned to go.

Then he perceived something at his feet, soft and white, as though some blossom had blown there.

The foot of the young man seemed suddenly to be rooted to the ground, then he slowly stooped and picked it up.

It was a fine lace handkerchief, delicately perfumed, that appealed to Egbert's senses in a bewitchingly flattering manner. Involuntarily his fingers clutched the airy fabric tighter and tighter.

"Herr Runeck!" said a voice behind him.

Runeck started and turned around. It was old Mertens.

"The men would like to know if they are to go on with the blasting, it is all ready."

"Certainly, I am coming directly.–Mertens, you are going to Odensburg this evening, I suppose?"

"Yes, Herr Engineer, I want to spend Sunday with my children."

"Well, then, take–"

Runeck stopped, and the old man looked at him in amazement. It was exactly as if the engineer was with difficulty, struggling for breath. And yet it lasted only a second, when he continued with a peculiarly gruff voice,

"Take this handkerchief with you, and hand it in at the Manor-house. Baroness Wildenrod has lost it."

Mertens took the handkerchief held out to him, and stuck it in his pocket, while Egbert went back to the workmen, who were only waiting for his appearance. He gave the signal, and the magic wand of the new times did its duty. The startling explosion took place, and the cliff still uninjured, that had stood there so proud and lofty, was split in twain. It trembled, tottered, and then fell in ruins at Runeck's feet dragging trees and shrubs to destruction with it.

CHAPTER VIII.
A BOUGH OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS

"As I tell you, Miss Friedberg, the nerves are a mere habit, and one of the worst of ones at that. Since the ladies have discovered nerves, we doctors have been the most tormented people in the world. It may be a right useful invention so far as husbands are concerned, but a hardened bachelor like myself has not the least respect for it."

With these words Dr. Hagenbach closed a rather long harangue which he had been giving in Miss Friedberg's chamber. Leonie, who looked pale and worn, had called him in professionally, and in reply to his questions had only repeated again and again that she was "through and through nervous."

"I believe. Doctor, you are the only physician who denies the existence of nerves," she said. "I should think science–"

"What science calls 'nerves' has my deepest respect"–she was interrupted by Hagenbach. "But what ladies give out to be such, in their stead, does not exist. Why do you not have yourself treated by the city health-officer, who makes a profound bow to each nerve of his patients, or by one of my young colleagues here in Odensburg, who also advocates the thing, although with a certain timidity. If you give yourself into my hands, there is no favor shown, that you know."

"Yes, I do know it!" she answered with some feeling. "And now may I ask for your prescriptions."

"Which, of course, you have no mind to follow. But never mind that, I'll use strict vigilance. In the first place, then, the air in your room will not do, it is much too damp and heavy. Above all things, let us open the window."

"I beg pardon," opposed Leonie with warmth. "A keen north wind is blowing, which is more than I can stand."

"Wonderful air!" said Hagenbach, as, without paying any heed to her objection, he proceeded to the window and threw open both casements. "Were you out of doors yesterday?"

"No, we had a terrible rain-storm."

"Where were your umbrella and waterproof, I allow them unquestionably. Follow your pupil's example–down yonder in the park Miss Maia sails along quite merrily in the face of the storm, and that tiny thing, Puck, sails along with her, although he is almost blown away."

"Maia is young, a happy child, that knows nothing but laughter and sunshine," said Leonie with a sigh. "She knows nothing yet of sorrow and tears, of all the hard and bitter that is imposed upon us by fate."

As she spoke, her eye involuntarily sought the desk, above which a large photograph took the main place on the wall. Some sweet yet painful memory must have been linked to that picture, for it was decorated by a mourning veil of black crape, and below it was a bowl full of sweet violets, that seemed like a sacrificial offering.

That glance did not escape the doctor's sharp eyes. As though accidentally he stepped up to the desk and began to inspect the likenesses to be found there, while he dryly remarked:

"Every man has his troubles, but they are far better borne with good-humor than with wailing and mourning. Ah! there is the picture of the little lady–very like! And her brother by her side–remarkable, that he does not resemble his father in the least. Whom does that photograph represent?" He pointed to the picture draped in mourning.

This unexpected question seemed to embarrass Leonie, she blushed faintly and answered with a somewhat unsteady voice:

"A–a relation."

"Your brother, perhaps?"

"No, a cousin–quite a distant relation."

"Ah, indeed?" drawled Hagenbach.

The remote relation seemed to interest him, he examined very narrowly the features of the very pale and lank young man, with sleek hair and eyes romantically upturned, and then continued in an indifferent tone:

"That face has a familiar look to me. I must have seen it before somewhere."

"You are in error as to that." Leonie's voice quivered perceptibly. "It has been long since he was counted among the living. He has lain in his grave for years: the hot deserts of Africa."

"Heaven rest his soul!" said the doctor with provoking equanimity. "But what took him to Africa and into the desert? Did he go as an explorer perhaps?"

"No, he died a martyr to a holy cause. He had attached himself to a mission to the heathen, and succumbed to the climate."

"I can only say he might have done a cleverer thing!"

Leonie, who had just carried her handkerchief to her eyes, overcome with emotion, stopped, utterly shocked at his lack of feeling:

"Doctor!"

"Yes, I cannot help thinking so. Miss Friedberg. I deem it very superfluous, in the first place, to be going away off to Africa to convert the black heathen, while so many white heathens, are roving around here in Germany, who know nothing of Christianity, although they are baptized. If your cousin had preached the Word of God, as a well-installed pastor to his own people–"

"He was not a minister, but a teacher," the angry lady managed to put in.

"Never mind; then, emphatically, he should have taught the dear school-boys the fear of God and flogged them into it, too, if needful. Classes have little enough of that nowadays."

Leonie's face betrayed the indignation she felt at this mode of expression, but reply was spared her, however, for at this moment came a timid knock at the door, and immediately afterwards Dagobert entered, but was hardly allowed to pay his respects to the lady; his uncle calling out to him, in his threatening voice, just as soon as he laid eyes on him:

"No English lesson to-day. Miss Friedberg has just declared that she is 'nervous through and through,' and nerves and grammar do not agree."

The young man must have valued this instruction highly, for he was quite shocked at this announcement. But Leonie said most positively:

"I beg pardon, stay, dear Dagobert! Our English studies are not to suffer from my bad feelings, we shall have our accustomed lesson. I'll go for our books." So saying, she got up and went into the next room.

The doctor, with a vexed look, followed her with his eyes. "I never did have such a contrary patient! Always the embodiment of contradiction! Hark ye, Dagobert, you are tolerably well-informed–what sort of a man is the one hanging yonder?"

"Hanging? Whore?" asked the horror-stricken Dagobert, while, shuddering, he looked across at the trees in the park.

"Why, you need not be thinking directly of a rope," said his uncle. "I mean that picture over the desk, with the crazy decoration of crape and violets."

"It is a relative of Miss Friedberg, a cousin–"

"Yes, indeed, quite a remote one! She has told me that, too, but I know she must have been engaged to him. Tiresome enough he looks to have been. Do you know his name, perhaps?"

"Miss Friedberg told it to me once–Engelbert."

"So the man was named Engelbert, too!" cried the excited doctor. "The name is just as sentimental as that unbearable face. Engelbert and Leonie–they match splendidly together! How the two would have sat and cooed together like a pair of turtle-doves!"

"He is dead, poor man!" remarked Dagobert.

"Was not of much account in life," growled Hagenbach, "and does not seem to have had specially good nourishment either, before he hied him to the desert. What a wretched woe-begone face it is! I must away now, give my compliments to Miss Friedberg. Much satisfaction may you get out of your 'nervous' English hour."

So saying the doctor picked up hat and cane and left. Ill-humoredly he descended the stairs, that sentimental "man of the desert" seemed to have thoroughly spoiled his temper. Suddenly he stood still.

"I have seen that face somewhere else, I stick to that, but strange–it looked entirely different!"

With this oracular remark he shook his head with a puzzled look and left the house.

The weather out of doors did not indeed look very inviting, being one of those cold, stormy spring-days, such as occur so frequently in the mountains. It is true the landscape no longer wore the bleak, wintry aspect that it had done a few weeks before, the trees having already decked themselves in fresh green, while the first flowers were blossoming in the meadows and fields, but this blooming and growing went forward only slowly, because sunshine was lacking.

Dark masses of cloud chased each other over the face of the sky, the rustling tree-tops bent before the wind, but this did not trouble the young girl, who, with light step, hurried forward on a narrow path through the woods.

Maia knew, to be sure, that her father did not approve of her taking such long walks unattended, but in the beginning she had confined her stroll to the park-limits, then Puck darted across the meadows and she after him, and then he went into the woods only a little distance, but it was so beautiful there under the murmuring pines, it enticed her on and on into the green solitude. What delight, to be, for once, so entirely alone, running races with the barking Puck, as if for a wager! Absorbed in this pleasure, Maia forgot entirely about the way back, until rather rudely reminded of it.

The dark clouds, which had been already threatening the whole day long, seemed finally to determine to fulfill their promise, for it began to rain, at first softly, then harder and harder, until there poured such torrents from the sky as accompany a regular thunder-storm.

Maia had taken refuge beneath a huge fir-tree, but found protection there only for the moment. It did not last long, on account of the dripping and trickling from every limb; she stood as though under the eaves of a roof, and the heavens grew ever darker. It was no quickly passing shower, so there was nothing for it but to run as fast as possible to the little lodge, only a quarter of a mile away, that offered a secure shelter. No sooner thought than done! The young girl rushed along over stick and stone, on the wet mossy soil, between dripping trees, finally, across a clearing in the forest, where wind and rain assailed her with full force, until, at last, breathless and thoroughly drenched, she found herself, with her four-footed companion, in a dry spot where they could bid defiance to the storm.

This lodge belonged to the forestry equipment at Odensburg, but was almost a half league from it, in the midst of the woods. In winter-time, when deep snow had fallen, they fed the hungry game here and also stored food for their cattle.

It was a small building constructed of boards and the trunks of trees joined together, with a water-tight roof and two low windows, now in the spring empty and unused, but a welcome place of refuge for the two fugitives.

Maia shook herself, so that the drops splashed in all directions. The rain had not hurt her waterproof at all, although it poured out of its folds, but her pretty hat, which she now took from her head, was so much the worse treated. The dainty thing, with its feathers and lace, was now nothing but a shapeless mass, and Puck did not look much better. His white coat was dripping, and its usually long silky hairs were hanging down in wet strands, giving him such a comically disconsolate look, that his young mistress laughed aloud.

"Only look, Puck! what a thing we have made of it!" said she in mock despair. "Why were we not sensible enough to stay in the park! How we do look, and how papa will scold! But you are to blame, you were the first to run off to the woods. Thank God, that at least we have a dry spot to sit in, else both of us would have been washed down to Radefeld, and Egbert would have had to fish us out."

She hurled the utterly spoiled hat upon the low bench that lined the wall on one side, seated herself and looked through the little window out upon the tempest. The rain was still coming down in torrents, and the wind howled around the lodge as though it would like to demolish it. Return home at present was not to be thought of. Mala yielded to the inevitable, drew the hood of her waterproof over her head, and watched Puck, who had stuck his nose through the small opening made by the door being left slightly ajar, and discontentedly followed with his eyes the falling drops.