The Alpine Fay Part 26

"I know it, but I do not agree with them, and the result of my treatment seems to prove me in the right. I have induced Fraulein Nordheim, who has been hitherto forbidden all exercise, to take walks and to increase their extent daily, and I have advised some mountain-climbing, and that she should spend as much time as possible in the open air, since this high atmosphere seems to suit her extremely well. Thus far I have cause to be satisfied with her improvement."

"As we all have," the president a.s.sented, gazing meanwhile at the young physician as if to read his soul. "As I said, I am grateful to you. You live in Oberstein, Wolfgang wrote me. Have you been there long?

"Five years, Herr President."

"And you intend to remain?"

"At least until some better position offers."

"There should be no difficulty about that," Nordheim remarked, and then went on to converse with the young man, but with a degree of distant courtesy that entirely precluded familiar ease. Not a word, not a look betrayed any consciousness that the man before him was the son of his early friend; in spite of his apparent kindliness, his reserve was also apparent.

Benno perceived this clearly, but was not at all surprised by it, for he had expected nothing else. He knew that the memories roused by his name were far from agreeable to the president, and in his modesty he never dreamed that the result of his medical treatment of the daughter could influence the father. He never thought of recalling a.s.sociations so entirely ignored by the millionaire, and, as the meeting was an annoying one for him, he took his leave as soon as possible.

Nordheim looked after him in silence for a few moments, and then, turning to Wolfgang with a frown, he asked, sharply, "How came you to make this acquaintance?"

"As I have told you, Reinsfeld is one of my early friends, whom I met again here in Oberstein."

"And you have known him for years without ever mentioning his name to me?"

"I avoided doing so by Benno's express desire, for your name is as well known to him as his to you. You do not wish to be reminded that his father was your fellow-student,--I perceived that to-day."

"What do you know about it?" the president asked, angrily. "Did the doctor speak to you about it?"

"He did, and informed me that the former friendship had ended in entire alienation."

Nordheim leaned his hand as if accidentally upon the back of the chair by which he was standing; his face had grown pale again, and his voice was rather tremulous as he asked, "Indeed! And what does he know about it?"

"Nothing at all! He was a boy at the time, and never learned what caused the breach; but he was much too proud to approach you in any way, and therefore made me promise to avoid mentioning his name for as long as I could."

Involuntarily Nordheim breathed a deep sigh; he made no rejoinder, but walked to the window.

"It seems to me that Dr. Reinsfeld was ent.i.tled to a more cordial reception," Wolfgang began again, evidently hurt by the cool way in which his friend had been treated. "Of course I know nothing of what occurred formerly----"

"Nor do I wish you to know," the president sharply interrupted him.

"The affair was of a purely personal character, and one of which I alone can judge; but you knew that this Reinsfeld could not be agreeable to me, and I cannot understand how you came to introduce him into my house and intrust my daughter's health to him. It was an act of supererogation which I cannot approve."

He was evidently much irritated by his encounter with Benno, and was wreaking his irritation upon his future son-in-law, who was, however, nowise inclined to submit to be addressed in a tone which he heard today for the first time.

"I regret, sir, that the matter should annoy you," he said, coldly, "but there is no question here of supererogation. It is certainly my right to call in for my betrothed a physician in whom I have perfect confidence, and who, as you yourself must admit, has entirely justified my confidence. I could not possibly surmise that an old grudge, dating twenty years back, and of which Benno is as innocent as he is ignorant, could make you so unjust. Your former friend is long since dead, and all unpleasantness should be buried with him."

"I am the only judge of that," Nordheim interrupted him, with a fresh access of anger. "Enough. I will not have this man coming to my house.

I will send him a fee,--of course a very large fee,--and decline further visits from him upon any pretext whatsoever. And I also request you to discontinue your intercourse with him. I do not approve of it."

The words sounded like a command, but the young engineer-in-chief was not the man to submit. His eyes flashed: "I think I have told you, sir, that Dr. Reinsfeld is my friend," he said, sternly, "and of course there can be no question of giving him up. It would insult him, after the pains he has taken with Alice's health, to dismiss him with a fee before her cure is complete. And I must beg you also to adopt another tone in speaking of him. Benno is a man deserving of the greatest regard; beneath an unpretending and even awkward exterior he possesses characteristics and talents worthy of all admiration."

"Indeed?" The president laughed scornfully. "I am learning to know you to-day, Wolfgang, in an entirely new character,--that of an enthusiastic and self-sacrificing friend. I should hardly have thought it of you."

"I am at least wont to stand up for my friends, and not to leave them in the lurch," was the very decided reply.

"But I repeat that I do not choose to have this man in my house,"

Nordheim said, dictatorially. "I suppose I am master here."

"Certainly; but in _my_ future house Benno will always be a welcome guest, and I shall explain this to him unreservedly, in case I should be obliged by your dismissal of him to discuss the matter with him, and to--excuse you."

The words left nothing to be desired in the way of emphasis. It was the first time that there had been a difference of opinion between the two men; hitherto their views and interests had been identical. Wolfgang; showed in this first encounter that he was no docile son-in-law, but could maintain his ground with entire resolution. He certainly would not yield, as the president could clearly see; and probably Nordheim had some reason for not pushing him to extremities, for he lowered his tone.

"The matter is not worth a dispute," he said, with a shrug. "What, in fact, is this Dr. Reinsfeld to me? I would rather not be reminded by the sight of him of a disagreeable circ.u.mstance,--nothing more. In spite of your enthusiastic eulogy, I take the liberty of finding him as insignificant as was the incident that caused me to break with his father. Let the matter drop, for all I care."

He could not have astounded Wolfgang more than by this unwonted acquiescence. This indifference was in direct contrast with his former feverish irritability. The young man was silent and appeared satisfied, but the ancient grudge had acquired a new significance in his eyes. He was now convinced that the cause of it had not been insignificant; a man like Nordheim would not have preserved for twenty years the memory of a mere bagatelle.

Alice here made her appearance, to the evident relief of her father, who made no reference to the physician's visit, but began to talk of other things, and Wolfgang also took pains to conceal his annoyance.

Alice did not perceive anything amiss; she was on her way to the garden to look for Erna, and her father, as well as her betrothed, joined her.

The garden of the villa was scarcely in accord with its elevated situation, where the usual flowers and ornamental shrubs enjoyed but a short summer, and were buried beneath the snow during more than half the year. The beds that had been laid out on the former meadow were fresh and sunny, but the little pine forest adjoining the garden, and extending to the foot of the cliffs, offered a cool, shady retreat from the hot sun.

It formed a kind of natural park, to which the moss-grown rocks, detached from their mountain-home in some ancient avalanche, and lying scattered here and there, lent a romantic charm.

Upon a rustic seat at the base of one of these rocks sat the Baroness Thurgau, and before her stood Ernst Waltenberg, but not engaged in calm conversation; he had sprung up and planted himself before her as if to prevent her escape. He was greatly agitated. "No, no, Fraulein Thurgau, you must stay and hear me!" he exclaimed. "You have repeatedly escaped me of late when I would fain have uttered what has been upon my lips for months. Stay, I entreat! I can endure suspense no longer."

Erna could not but be conscious that he had a right to be heard. She made no further attempt to leave him, but the expression of her face betrayed her dread of the coming declaration. Neither by word nor by look did she give the slightest encouragement to the man who now continued, with ever-increasing ardour,--

"I might have ended this uncertainty long ago, but, for the first time in my life, I have been and am a very coward. You cannot dream, Erna, of the misery you have caused me by your reserve, and avoidance of me!

When I would have spoken I seemed to read in your eyes a 'no,' and that I could not endure."

"Herr Waltenberg, listen to me," the girl said, gently.

"_Herr_ Waltenberg!" he repeated, bitterly. "Have you no other name for me? Am I still such a stranger to you that you cannot, for once at least, let me hear you call me Ernst? You must have long known that I love you with all a man's pa.s.sion,--that I sue for you as for the greatest of all blessings. There was a time when entire freedom was my highest ideal of happiness; when I shrank from the thought of any tie that could fetter me. All that is gone and forgotten. What is all the world to me--what is unfettered freedom--without you? On this broad earth I care for you, and for you only!"

He had taken her hand, and she did not withdraw it from his clasp, but it lay there cold and pa.s.sive, and when she raised her eyes to his they were veiled with sadness.

"I know that you love me, Ernst," she said, slowly, "and I believe in the depth and sincerity of your affection, but I can give you no love in return."

He dropped her hand suddenly: "And why not?"

"A strange question to ask. Can love be forced?"

"Ah, yes. A man's boundless, pa.s.sionate devotion must beget love in return--if there is no rival in the way."

Erna shivered, and the colour mounted slowly in her face, but she was silent. This change of colour did not escape Waltenberg, who was gazing at her with breathless eagerness. His dark face grew pale on a sudden, and there was something like a menace in the tone in which he said, "Erna, why have you avoided me hitherto? Why do you refuse to return my love? Tell me the truth at all hazards. Do you love another?"

A short pause ensued. Erna would fain have refused to reply. How could she confess to another that which she shrank from acknowledging even to herself? But a glance into the agitated face of the man before her decided her.

"I will be entirely frank with you," she said, firmly. "I have loved.

It was a dream, followed by a bitter wakening."

"Then the man was unworthy of you?"

"He was unworthy of any pure and great affection, and when I learned this, I tore my love for him from my heart. I pray you, do not question me further. It is gone and buried."