Kitabı oku: «The Alpine Fay», sayfa 14

CHAPTER XVII.
UNFORESEEN OBSTACLES

President Nordheim was seated in his office in the capital, in consultation with Herr Gersdorf, for the consignment of the railway to the stockholders was now decided upon. Nordheim's resolve to withdraw from the company after the completion of the undertaking was regretted, but caused no surprise, for the man's restless activity was well known, and it was natural that he should have new schemes wherewith to employ his capital. The glory was his of having devised and executed a bold project which had opened a new highway for the world.

The engineer-in-chief had promised that all building operations should be concluded before the beginning of winter, and as soon as they were finished the transfer was to be made. It would then be the business of the new management to effect the final preparations for the opening of the road, which was to take place the ensuing spring. All this had been settled for months, and Gersdorf, in his capacity of legal representative of the railway company, had had many consultations with the president.

"The engineer-in-chief does in fact achieve almost the impossible," he said, "but yet I cannot understand how he can have all finished by the end of October. The month has begun, and four weeks seems a very short time for the completion of what remains to be done."

"If Wolfgang has said the work shall be done, he will keep his word," Nordheim rejoined, in a tone of calm conviction. "In such cases he spares neither himself nor his subordinates, and in this instance he is also driven by necessity. November brings the snowstorms which are most dangerous in the Wolkenstein district; it is very important to have the work finished."

"Hitherto autumn has brought us only late summer weather," the lawyer observed, as he gathered together some papers scattered on the table. "I cannot wonder that your daughter lingers in the mountains and seems to have no idea of returning."

"She, with Frau von Lasberg, will probably remain there for some weeks yet. The mountain-air has worked miracles for Alice; she is almost entirely well, and Dr. Reinsfeld advises her to extend her stay until the weather changes. I owe a debt of gratitude to your cousin, and I greatly regret that he is to leave Oberstein. I hear he has another medical position in prospect in–what is the name of the place?"

"Neuenfeld."

"Right,–Neuenfeld. The name had escaped me. I cannot wonder at the young physician for desiring a wider sphere of action; but, as I said, we all regret that he is going so far away. Wolfgang in especial will miss him much."

The words sounded kindly, as though the president were really grateful to his daughter's physician and regretted losing him. Gersdorf, who had no reason to suspect his sincerity, was quite impressed.

"Benno writes me that he shall not leave for his new post before the end of a couple of weeks," he said. "He stipulated for this delay that he might install his successor at Oberstein. Therefore we shall have an opportunity of seeing each other again, for I must go to Heilborn next week. The suit of the parishes of Oberstein and Unterstein against the railway for damage done to their forests in its construction is to be decided, and I represent the company of course."

"Then we shall meet there," said Nordheim. "I am going to take a short holiday, and then return to town with my family. I have been overweighted with business of late, and am sadly in need of rest. I shall hope to see you at our villa; you will not forgot to come?"

"Certainly not," said Gersdorf, rising to take leave.

When he had gone the president rang for lights, for it was growing dark, and then, seating himself at his writing-table, he became absorbed in the papers lying there,–they must have been of a very important nature, for he examined them with the greatest care, his face expressing intense satisfaction as he did so, until it finally broke into a smile.

"Everything arranged," he murmured. "It will be a brilliant transaction. The figures are rather boldly combined, it is true, but they will do their duty, and as soon as Wolfgang has approved them, and affixed his name to the entire estimate, it will be accepted without demur. And that man Reinsfeld is fortunately disposed of. I thought he could not refuse the bait of such a position. Neuenfeld is far enough away, and he can live there comfortably to the end of his days.–What is it? I do not wish to be disturbed again this evening."

The last words were spoken to a servant who entered at the moment, and who now announced, "Herr Elmhorst has arrived."

"The engineer-in-chief?" Nordheim asked, surprised.

"Arrived a moment ago, Herr President."

Nordheim rose quickly, and was about to go to meet the new-comer, but Wolfgang appeared at that moment on the threshold in his travelling-dress.

"Have I startled you, sir, by my unexpected arrival?" he asked.

"Rather; you sent me no telegram," the president replied, motioning to the servant to withdraw. As soon as the door closed behind him he asked, hastily, and evidently disturbed, "What has happened? Anything the matter with the railway?"

"No; I left everything in perfect order."

"And Alice is well, I hope?" This last question was far more composedly put than had been its predecessor.

"Quite well; you have no cause for anxiety."

"Thank heaven! I was afraid something unfortunate had occurred to account for your sudden appearance. What brings you here so unexpectedly?"

"A matter of business, which I could not explain in writing," said Wolfgang, laying aside his hat. "I preferred to see you personally, although I could ill be spared from the railway."

"Well, then, let us talk over your business," replied the president, who was always ready to discuss affairs. "We shall be entirely undisturbed this evening. But first take some rest. I will give orders to have your rooms–"

"Thank you, sir," Elmhorst interrupted him, "but I should like to have the business that has brought me here settled at once; it is urgent,–at least for me. We are quite alone here?"

"We are; I generally insure myself privacy in my own apartments. But for security's sake you can close the door of the next room also."

Wolfgang complied, and then returned. As he advanced into the circle of light from the lamp his face looked pale and agitated. His pallor could hardly be the effect of fatigue from the long, unbroken ride; there was a frown on his brow, and his dark eyes had a stern, almost menacing expression.

"Your business must be important," the president observed, as he sat down, "or you would hardly have come yourself. Well, then.–But will you not be seated?"

The young man paid no heed to the request, but remained standing, with his hand resting on the back of a chair, as he began, in an apparently calm tone, "You sent me over the estimates and calculations which are to serve as the basis of the transfer of the railway to the stockholders."

"I did. You remember I told you that I would spare you the details of these calculations. You have enough to do in attending to the technical conduct of the work. All you have to do is to look over and approve the estimates, your word as engineer-in-chief being decisive."

"I am aware of that,–entirely aware of my responsibility in the matter, and therefore I wish to put a question to you: Who made these estimates?"

Nordheim glanced in surprise at his future son-in-law; the question evidently astonished him.

"Who? Why, my clerks and those who understand such matters."

"That is not what I mean, sir. They simply made up the figures from the memoranda and calculations furnished them. What I want to know is, whose were those memoranda?–who put down the sums which are the basis of the estimates? It cannot possibly have been yourself."

"Indeed? And why not, may I ask?"

"Because all the accounts are falsified!" Wolfgang said, coldly but very decidedly.

"Falsified? What do you mean?"

"Is it possible that it escaped you?" Elmhorst asked, never taking his eyes from the president. "I discovered it at a glance. All the buildings are estimated at almost double the cost of their erection, and stations are brought into the calculations which do not exist. The obstacles and catastrophes that impeded us are reckoned up in an incredible fashion, as causing an outlay of hundreds of thousands where not half the amount was expended. In short, the whole sum exceeds by some millions the actual cost of the undertaking."

Nordheim listened in silence, but with a frown, to this agitated explanation, by which, however, he seemed more surprised than offended; at last he said, coldly, "Wolfgang, I really do not understand you."

"Nor did I understand your letter requiring me to approve and sign that estimate. I thought, and I still think, that there is some mistake, and I wanted to ask you personally about it. I trust you can explain it to me."

The president shrugged his shoulders, but maintained the same cool, composed tone, as he replied, "You are a capital engineer, Wolfgang, but that you have no talent for business is quite clear. I hoped we should understand each other in this matter without many words, but, since that does not seem to be the case, we must come to an explanation. Do you suppose that I intend to withdraw from this undertaking with loss?"

"With loss? In any case you receive back your capital with interest."

"A transaction that brings in no more than that is to be reckoned as a losing one," said Nordheim. "I did not imagine you such a novice in business matters as to require to be told this. We have here a chance to make a profit,–a considerable profit. The railway, in fact, belongs to me. I called it into existence, my capital has been principally expended in its construction, the entire risk has been mine. I venture to think that you will not dispute my right to dispose of my property at any price I think fit."

"If that price is to be gained only by the means you have adopted, I do most decidedly dispute the right you speak of. Should the company receive the railway under such conditions, its bankruptcy will be certain. Even if the road be employed to the fullest extent it cannot bring in a sufficient income to indemnify it approximately for the amount of loss sustained; the entire enterprise must either go to ruin, or fall into the hands of some unprincipled schemer."

"And how does that concern us?" Nordheim asked, calmly.

"How does it concern us?" Elmhorst broke forth, indignantly. "To have the work which you devised, to which I have devoted my best energies, at the head of which stand our united names, go miserably to ruin or be an instrument in the hands of swindlers? It concerns me deeply, as I trust I shall be able to show you."

The president arose with an impatient wave of his hand: "Pray spare me such bursts of declamation, Wolfgang. They really are out of place in a business discussion."

The young man drew himself up; all emotion vanished from his face, giving place to an expression of cool contempt, and his voice was every whit as cold as the president's own as he replied, "I shall not content myself with mere declamation, as you will find, sir. Let me ask once for all, calmly and briefly, who furnished the figures upon which the estimates you sent me are based?"

"I, myself," was the quiet reply.

"And you expected me to approve them and put my name to them?"

"I expect every thing of my future son-in-law," Nordheim declared, with sharp emphasis.

"Then you have misunderstood me. I cannot sign the estimates."

"Wolfgang!" There was an evident menace in Nordheim's tone.

"I will not sign them, I say. I never will lend my name to a falsehood."

"You dare to use such language to me?" the president exclaimed, angrily.

"What other language could be used if I should sanction estimates which I know to be false?" Wolfgang asked, with bitterness. "I am the engineer-in-chief, my word is decisive for the company and for the stockholders, who are utterly ignorant in the matter. The responsibility is mine alone."

"Your word could never be questioned," Nordheim interposed. "I had no idea you were such a martinet. You know nothing of business, or you would see that I, in my position, could not possibly venture what I do were there any danger. The figures are so combined that it is impossible to prove an–error from them, and I have explanations prepared for every emergency. No one can blame either you or myself."

At this assertion a smile of infinite scorn hovered upon Elmhorst's lips: "That was certainly the last thing to occur to me! We do indeed misunderstand each other. You fear discovery, I fear the fraud. In short, I will have nothing to do with a lie, and if I refuse my signature it cannot be told."

The president walked close up to him; he was now much agitated, and his voice betrayed extreme irritation: "Your expressions are, to say the least, strong. Do you suppose you can dictate to me? Have a care, Wolfgang. You are not yet my son-in-law; the knot is not yet tied which was to link you to me. I can cut it at the last moment, and you are too clever not to know all that you would lose with my daughter's hand."

"That means that you make it a condition?"

"Yes,–your signature! Either that–or–!"

As Nordheim spoke thus explicitly, Wolfgang's eyes were fixed gloomily on the ground. He pondered all the consequences of the president's 'Either that–or–!' he was indeed 'clever enough' to know that millions would be lost to him with his betrothed,–the wealth, the brilliant future for which he had bartered his happiness. The moment had come in which he was required to barter something more, and suddenly memory recalled that hour on the Wolkenstein in the moonlit midsummer night when this moment had been sadly foretold him: 'The price now is your freedom; in future it may perhaps be your honour!'

Nordheim interpreted the young man's silence after his own fashion; he laid his hand on Wolfgang's shoulder, and said, in a gentler tone, "Be reasonable, Elmhorst. We should both lose by a separation, and it is the last thing that I desire; but I can and must require my son-in-law to go hand in hand with me, and to make my interests his own. You give me your signature, and I will go surety for everything else. We will both forget this conversation, and divide the profit, which will make you a wealthy, independent man."

"At the price of my honour!" Wolfgang exclaimed, in hot indignation. "No, by heaven, it shall never come to that! I ought to have known long ago whither your rule of life, your business principles, would lead, for since my betrothal to your daughter you have thrown off all reserve; but I chose to see and to know nothing, because I was fool enough to imagine that, in spite of it all, I could pursue my own path and do as I chose. Now I see that there is no halting in the downward course, that he who leagues himself with you cannot keep his honour unstained. I have been ambitious and reckless–yes. I reckoned upon our association in this undertaking as you did, and conceded more to it than my conscience could entirely justify, but I never will stoop to deceive. If you believed me ready to be a scoundrel for the sake of your wealth,–if the future of which I have dreamed is to be purchased only at such a price,–let it go. I will have none of it!"

He stood erect, and with flashing eyes hurled his refusal at the president. There was something grand and overwhelming in this stormy outbreak from the man who thus at last threw off all the fetters of petty self-interest which had held him bound so long, whose better nature asserted itself and trampled down the alluring temptation. He knew that he was resigning the wealth which would make him independent of Nordheim's favour; that with it he should be free and unfettered to realize all his golden dreams of the future. There had been an instant of hesitation, and then he thrust the tempter from him and redeemed his honour!

The president stood frowning darkly. He perceived now that he had been mistaken in supposing that he should find in the ambitious young engineer a willing instrument, a nature as unscrupulous as his own, but he had no mind to break entirely with the son-in-law he had chosen. He would lose most by the separation; in the first place, all the profit which Wolfgang's signature would insure him would be destroyed, and moreover, he said to himself, it would be dangerous to make an enemy of one so thoroughly acquainted with his schemes. It could not be; a breach must be avoided, at least for the present.

"Let us drop this matter for to-day," he said, slowly. "It is too important, and we are neither of us in a mood to discuss it calmly. I am going to my mountain-villa in a week, and until then you can take the affair into consideration. I will not accept your present hasty decision."

"You will be obliged to accept it at the end of the week," Wolfgang declared. "My answer will be precisely the same then. Let a true estimate be made of the cost of the railway, at its highest valuation, and I will not refuse to give it my sanction. I never will sign my name to the present one. That is my final word. Farewell!"

"You are going back immediately?" Nordheim asked.

"Certainly; the next express leaves in an hour, and the business that brought me here is concluded. My presence is indispensable at my post."

He bowed and took his leave, not after the familiar fashion of the future son-in-law, but formally, as a stranger, and the president felt the significance of his manner.

When Elmhorst reached the spacious vestibule he found there two servants awaiting him. His rooms had been prepared for him, and the lackeys asked for further orders, but he waved them aside: "Thanks, I am going directly back again, and shall not use the rooms."

The men looked surprised. This was indeed a hurried visit. Would not Herr Elmhorst have the carriage to drive to the station?

"No; I prefer to walk." As he spoke, Elmhorst once more glanced towards the broad staircase leading to the gorgeous apartments in the upper story, and then he left the house where for more than six months he had been regarded as a son, and upon which he was now turning his back forever.

Outside, the October evening was cold and damp; the skies were starless, the air was full of mist, and a keen blast heralded the approach of winter. Involuntarily Wolfgang drew his travelling-cloak closer about his shoulders, as he strode forward at a rapid pace.

It was over! He was perfectly aware of it, and he also clearly perceived Nordheim's desire to avoid a sudden breach for fear lest the man so lately his confidant should expose him by way of revenge. A contemptuous smile curled the young man's lip. Such a fear was quite superfluous; any such act was entirely beneath him. His thoughts wandered to where they had rarely been of late,–to his betrothed. Alice would not suffer if the betrothal were dissolved. She had accepted his suit without opposition in compliance with her father's wish, and she would bend to his will with the same docility should he sever the tie. There had never been any talk of love between them; neither would be conscious of loss.

Wolfgang drew a deep breath. He was free again, free to choose; he could pursue his proud, lonely path, dependent only upon his own courage and capacity, but the voice which had roused him from the stupor of egotism and ambition would never again sound in his ears, the lovely face would never again smile upon him. That prize belonged to another, and, whatever he might achieve in the future, his happiness had been bartered away,–lost forever.

CHAPTER XVIII.
A MOUNTAIN RAMBLE

Autumn this year had donned the aspect of a late summer. The days, with but few exceptions, were sunny and clear, the air was mild, and the mountains stood revealed in all their rarest beauty.

The inmates of the Nordheim villa had prolonged their stay, which had been at first arranged for only the summer months, into October. They had been induced to do this, first out of consideration for Alice's health, and then in accordance with Erna's wish to spend as long a time as was possible among her beloved mountains. Since she had been betrothed to Waltenberg her position in the household had undergone a change; Frau von Lasberg no longer permitted herself to find fault with her, and the president was always ready to forestall his niece's wishes. Waltenberg himself, who disliked a city life with its conventionalities and restraints, was glad to be rid of it, and the Baroness alone sighed about the 'endless exile,' and comforted herself with the prospect of a winter more than usually gay. Now that Erna was also betrothed and that Elmhorst would be in the capital during the winter months, after his labours as engineer among the mountains were at an end, the Nordheim mansion would surely justify its reputation. There would doubtless be a series of entertainments in honour of the young couples, and Frau von Lasberg revelled in the contemplation of the prominent part it would be hers to play.

Erna and Alice were sitting on the veranda of the villa, and the gay chatter heard thence absolutely came from the lips of Alice Nordheim. There was not a vestige of the air of indifference with which she used to speak formerly. The change that had taken place in her bordered on the miraculous: the sickly pallor the weary movements, the fatigued, unsympathetic expression, had all vanished; the cheeks were rosy, the eyes bright. Whether it were owing to the mountain-air which blew here so pure and fresh, or to the treatment of the young physician, the fact was that in a few months the girl had blossomed forth like some flower which, fading and sickly in the shade, expands into tender beauty in the clear, warm sunshine.

"I wonder where Herr Waltenberg is?" she was just saying. "He is usually here before this time."

"Ernst wrote me that he should be rather late today, since he meant to bring us a surprise from Heilborn," Erna replied. She was seated at her drawing, from which she did not look up, nor did she evince the slightest interest in the promised surprise.

"'Tis strange that he should write to you so often, when he sees you every day," remarked Alice, who was quite unused to such attentions from her own lover. "And then he fairly overwhelms you with flowers, for which, it seems to me, you are not half grateful enough."

"I am afraid that is Ernst's own fault," was the quiet reply. "He spoils me, and I am too ready to be spoiled."

"Yes, there is something exaggerated in his manner of wooing," Alice interposed. "His love seems to me like a fire, which burns rather than illumines."

"His is an unusual nature," said Erna. "He must not be judged by the standard we apply to others. Believe me, Alice, much, nay, everything, can be endured in the consciousness that one is supremely and ardently beloved."

She laid down her pencil and looked dreamily abroad into space. It sounded odd, the word 'endured,' and its significance was not softened by so much as the shadow of a smile. Indeed, the expression of gravity was deepened in the young girl's face, and in her eyes there was an indescribable something which assuredly was not happiness.

In the short pause that ensued, the noise of carriage-wheels became audible, and some vehicle drew up in front of the house. Erna shivered slightly; she knew who was at hand, although from where she sat the road could not be seen. She slowly closed her sketchbook and arose, but before she could leave the veranda, a young creature came flying out of the drawing-room and clasped her in an enthusiastic embrace, after which she turned just as eagerly to Alice.

"Why, Molly, is this you?" both girls exclaimed, in a breath.

It was in fact Frau Gersdorf, rosy, merry, and saucy as ever, and behind her appeared Ernst Waltenberg, evidently delighted with the success of his surprise.

"Yes, it is really I," the new-comer began. "Albert had a tiresome, never-ending suit to attend to in Heilborn, and of course I came with him. The poor fellow's hard work must be made as tolerable as possible for him, so I always go with him upon these expeditions. I verily believe that if he should take it into his head to climb Mount Blanc, or the Himalayas, I should scramble up after him. Thank God, there are no cases to try up there, so there is no chance of his undertaking the ascents. And how are you all here? You have absolutely vanished from the capital. But there's no need to ask; Alice looks fresh as a rose, and Erna is planning her wedding-tour, I hear. Where is it to be? To the South Sea or the North Pole? I should advise the South Sea,–the climate is milder."

She paused to take breath, and without waiting for a reply threw herself into an arm-chair and declared that she was too tired to say a single word.

After the first exchange of greetings Ernst approached his betrothed and handed her a bouquet of costly foreign flowers, rich in colour and exhaling an overpowering fragrance.

"Did I not keep my promise?" he said, pointing to Molly. "I planned this surprise with Albert yesterday afternoon, knowing I should surely be welcome so accompanied."

"But that you always are," said Erna, taking the flowers from him with thanks.

"Always?" he repeated. "Really always? Some times I doubt it."

"Do not say that, Ernst."

His eyes, filled with a passionate entreaty, met her reproachful glance, as together they walked down the veranda steps into the garden. "Are you a little glad when I come?" he went on, in a low tone. "I sometimes imagine you dread my approach and shrink from my embrace, and more than once I have fancied I could detect a sigh of relief when I left you."

"Yes, you watch every look of mine, every breath that I draw, and convert it all into pain, both for yourself and for me," Erna said, gravely. "Your passionate surveillance torments me; how will it be when we are married?"

"Ah, then I shall be calm," he said, with a sigh. "Then I shall know you for my own, my very own; no other will have any right to intrude between us, and then perhaps I may teach you to love me; hitherto I have tried in vain. That you can love I know. You loved–him!"

She hastily withdrew the hand she had left in his: "Ernst, you promised me–"

"Not to speak of that. Yes, I promised, but I did not know how hard it is to fight against a memory, to war with a mere phantom. Would that it were flesh and blood, that I might battle with it to the death!"

His eyes flashed with the mortal hatred that had gleamed in them when he had learned that Erna had loved another. She turned pale, as she laid her hand soothingly upon his arm.

"Ernst," she said, gently, "why torment yourself thus perpetually? You suffer terribly; I see it, and bitterly do I repent my confession. Have I no power to make you calmer and happier?"

Her tone disarmed him at once; he took her hand, and kissed it eagerly: "Your power over me is boundless when you look and speak thus. Forgive me for paining you; indeed it shall not happen again."

The promise had been made a hundred times before, and broken as often. Erna smiled, but she was still pale as they walked back to the house.

"A scene from Othello seems to be going on there," said Molly, who, notwithstanding her great fatigue, had been chattering incessantly, and observing the lovers the while. "Ernst Waltenberg is perilously like that monster of a Moor. I believe he would make nothing of a murder if his jealousy were excited. It is to be hoped that Erna will put a little common sense into him when they are married; there is very little of it in his love for her at present. I told him about all sorts of interesting things that are going on in the capital, as we were driving over, but he never listened to one of them; he kept his eyes fixed upon the villa, and rushed out of the barouche the instant it stopped before the door. Ah! now he is kissing her hand and humbly begging her pardon. Albert never did that, even while we were betrothed; on the contrary, I was always the one to be forgiven! Albert is not sentimentally inclined, nor is your betrothed, Alice. Is your engineer not coming to-day?"

"I hardly think he will be here," said Alice, allowed for the first time to interpose a word. "Wolfgang has so much to do; he could only be here for a few moments yesterday. The responsibilities of his position are very great."

It sounded composed, too much so for a betrothed maiden who could not but feel herself neglected. Alice knew nothing as yet of what had taken place between her father and her lover a week before in the capital. Wolfgang had refrained from mentioning it even to his friend Reinsfeld; he wished to leave the president, whose arrival was shortly expected, to contrive a pretext for the final rupture. Meanwhile, he saw Alice as seldom as possible, availing himself of the plea of work, which had sufficed him hitherto.

Frau von Lasberg now made her appearance on the veranda, and greeted Molly with great dignity and little cordiality. The young Frau was to remain until the next day, when her husband was to call for her, and they were to pay a visit at Benno's in Oberstein. Molly played the part of a hurricane in the quiet and elegant household at the villa; from the moment of her arrival all formality was scattered to the winds. Her clear, silvery laughter was heard everywhere; she chatted with Alice, she teased Erna, she disputed with Waltenberg about Oriental customs of which she knew absolutely nothing, provoking beyond measure the old Baroness, and withal fairly beaming with happiness and merriment.

Thus the day wore on to noon, and the golden autumn sunlight tempted all into the open air. Waltenberg proposed a walk up one of the neighbouring heights, and all assented; even Alice, who a few months previously had been debarred from all such enjoyments, was ready to join the party, while Frau von Lasberg was, of course, obliged to remain at home. The little company walked leisurely up the gradual ascent, through the sunlit, fragrant forest, until they reached the foot of a rocky cliff, where the path became steep and stony.