Clear the Track! A Story of To-day. E. Werner

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СКАЧАТЬ answer sounded very positive, almost uncouth: it thoroughly displeased Cecilia, but yet more he displeased her who had given utterance to it, and whom she took this opportunity of observing closely for the first time. This friend of Eric's youth was–coldly considered–anything but attractive in personal appearance. It is true, that his tall, commanding figure made a certain impression, but it was not at all suited to the parlor. Add to this, those homely, irregular features, where everything was stamped with such sharpness and hardness, and the stiff, disobliging manner, that did not soften even now, when one was exerting herself to draw him into conversation. Why, that answer sounded almost as if this Runeck would like to teach a lesson to her, Baroness Wildenrod! She remarked, to her astonishment, that here was nothing of timidity and conscious inferiority, and now, too, she awoke to the fact that it was not admiration which spoke in those cold, gray eyes, but rather enmity. But what would have chilled, and perhaps dismayed, any one else, was just the thing that attracted Cecilia Wildenrod, and so, instead of letting the conversation drop, she took it up again.

      She propped her pretty foot against the fender and leaned far back in the arm-chair, her attitude being a negligent, but infinitely graceful one. The late afternoon hour and the dark rain-clouds out of doors had already produced twilight in this part of the parlor, and the fire, sometimes flaring up and again dying down, cast its light upon the slender form that sat there, draped hi a light silk gown, covered with lace, falling upon the roses that she wore on her bosom, and upon the beautiful head that was pillowed upon a rich crimson cushion.

      "Dear me! how shall I accommodate myself to this Odensburg?" said she pettishly. "Every third word here is work! They seem, in general, not to have another idea. I, frivolous worldling that I am, feel quite intimidated by it and know I shall inevitably fall into disgrace with my father-in-law-to-be, who is himself a first-class genius of work."

      She spoke with an arrogance that challenged reply. It was the tone that had been deemed piquant and fascinating in the sphere of society in which she had been accustomed to move. But it made no impression here: Runeck seemed to be utterly insensible to it.

      "Certainly, Herr Dernburg is a model to us all in this respect," answered he. "I certainly do not anticipate seeing you contented at Odensburg, Baroness Wildenrod. But surely, Eric must have given you a fair picture of it, ere you made up your mind to come here."

      "I believe that Eric's taste is the same as mine," remarked Cecilia. "He likewise loves the joyous, sunny South, and raves of a villa on the shores of the blue Mediterranean, beneath palm-trees and laurel-bushes."

      "Eric was sick and suffered under the severe climate of his native land, which, nevertheless, he loves: the South has restored him to health. As for the rest, he is rich enough to purchase a place anywhere in Italy that he chooses, and to pass there his time for recreation, although his regular home must continue to be at Odensburg."

      "Do you think that so absolutely necessary?" Slight derision was perceptible in the tone of her question.

      "Most assuredly, for he is the only son, and one day must take charge of the works. That is a duty which he cannot shirk and of which he as well as his future wife must render an account."

      "Must?" repeated Cecilia. "That seems to be your favorite word, Herr Runeck. You use it at every opportunity. I cannot bear that uncomfortable word, and I do not believe I shall ever be reconciled to it, either."

      Egbert seemed to find no special satisfaction in this sort of dialogue, his reply having a touch of impatience about it, that was entirely too suggestive of faultfinding.

      "We shall do better not to dispute over it. We belong to two entirely different worlds, and so, naturally, do not understand one another."

      Cecilia smiled at having finally moved this man from his imperturbable equilibrium, which she interpreted to almost as an insult. She had not been accustomed anyone denying her the toll of admiration, or speaking of "must," to her. The fire again blazed up brightly, and while Runeck stood aside in the shade, the reflection fell full upon the beautiful girl, who still reclined in her chair, in the same attitude as a while ago. There was something ensnaring in the flickering play of the flames, in the abrupt transition from light to shade; something that was akin to the appearance of the girl herself, who now looked up at the young engineer with moisture dimming the luster of her dark and glowing eyes.

      "Why, there may be a bridge that can unite these two worlds," said she playfully. "Perhaps we may come to understand each other–or, think you that it is not worth the trouble?"

      "No."

      This "no" had a perfectly frigid sound. Cecilia suddenly straightened herself up and darted a look of withering anger upon Egbert.

      "You are very–candid, Herr Runeck."

      "You misunderstand me, Baroness Wildenrod," said he calmly. "I meant, of course, that it was not worth your while to descend to so inferior a world–nothing more."

      Baroness Wildenrod bit her lip. He had parried her thrust in masterly style, and yet she knew what he had meant, she understood the bitter taunt, hidden behind his words. What sort of a man was this, that dared thus to confront the betrothed of his best friend, the future daughter of the house, in which he had received so many favors? Previously she had hardly had a glance to bestow upon this engineer in his subordinate station, now a burning sense of hostility seized her–he was to suffer for having provoked her!

      She arose with a brisk movement and turned to Eric and her brother, who were talking together. Egbert remained where he was, but his eyes followed the brother and sister, while he murmured under his breath:

      "Poor Eric, you have fallen into bad hands!"

      Night had come and the family had already separated. They wanted their guests–who had made rather a fatiguing journey that day–to retire early to rest, but this they had not yet done.

      In the boudoir, attached to the suite of company-rooms, were Oscar and Cecilia Wildenrod to be found. They were alone. The perfume of the flowers with which Maia had given so graceful a welcome to her future sister-in-law, still filled the room, but neither of this pair paid any heed to it. Cecilia stood in the center of the room, but the smile that she had worn and the amiability which she had manifested all day had both vanished now. She looked excited, provoked, and her voice had the intonation of suppressed passion.

      "And so you are not content with me, Oscar? I should think that I had done everything possible to be done this day, and still you have fault to find with me."

      "You were too incautious in your expressions," criticised Oscar; "much too incautious. You hardly took the trouble to conceal your disapproval of Odensburg. Take heed, Eric's father, is very sensitive on that point, anything like that he does not pardon."

      "Am I, for whole weeks here to act a farce, and pretend to be enthusiastic over this abominable place, that is far more unbearable even than I had supposed? One is cut off here and thrust out of the world, as it were, buried between mountains and dark forests. Then the immediate proximity of those works with their noise and their crowd of coarse laborers, but above all these people here! Little Maia is the only one endurable. My future father-in-law, though, seems to have a very domineering nature, and tyrannizes over his whole household. I shudder before his stern countenance. What a look he gave me upon my arrival, as though he wanted to look me through and through. And that tiresome Frau von Ringstedt with her prim state, and that just as stupid pale-looking governess–but, above all, that so-called friend of Eric's youth, who said things to me–" she suddenly broke off, and with a pettish movement threw her fan upon the table. Wildenrod had quietly listened to all this harangue, without making any attempt to soothe her, at those last words, however, he grew attentive.

      "What things?" he asked СКАЧАТЬ