Nearly four weeks had gone by, and July was approaching its close, when President Nordheim returned to his mountain-villa. Meanwhile, the engineer-in-chief, whose ill health had long necessitated his resigning his position into Elmhorst's hands in all save the name, had died, and there had been but one opinion as to the man who should succeed him; the future son-in-law of the president, the engineer of the Wolkenstein bridge, was unanimously chosen to fill the vacant post. He was thus at the head of the huge undertaking now so near its completion.

Several hours after Nordheim's return he retired with Wolfgang to his study, there to discuss the matter, which they had not done hitherto save by letter. Both were well content.

"Your election was a mere form," said the president. "There was no name save yours mentioned; nevertheless I congratulate you, Herr Engineer-in-Chief."

Elmhorst smiled slightly, but with none of that proud self-consciousness with which he had formerly achieved his appointment as superintendent, and yet that had been only the starting-point of the career the goal of which was now attained so brilliantly. A change had taken place in him: he looked pale and depressed, and in the keen eyes, whose depths had seemed so cold, there glowed from time to time a fire which leaped to light, only to flicker unsteadily and then to be as quickly extinguished. In conversation, too, he no longer preserved his old deliberate composure; in spite of all his self-control the man seemed to be consumed by some inward struggle, which did not permit him to march forward to gratify his ambition without looking either to the right or to the left,--some racking, tormenting struggle barred his path.

"Thank you, sir," he replied. "I value highly the proof thus given me of the confidence reposed in me, and I confess, besides, that I take satisfaction in knowing that the completion of the work to which I have given the best that is in me should be connected with my name."

"Do you set such a value on that?" Nordheim asked, indifferently. "True, such an ambition is still natural at your age; but you will soon outgrow it when loftier interests come to the fore."

"Loftier than the honour that attaches to the creation of a great work?"

"More practical interests, I mean,--interests of more decisive weight,--and it is precisely of them that I wish to speak with you. You know that I have long cherished the desire to retire from the company as soon as the railway shall be opened?"

"I do; you mentioned it to me some months ago, and surprised me exceedingly. Why should you wish to retire from an undertaking which you practically called into existence?"

"Because it no longer seems to me sufficiently profitable," the president replied, coolly. "The costs of construction are very heavy,--much heavier than I thought; in fact, there was no possibility of foreseeing all the difficulties in our way, and then your predecessor had such a mania for building with solidity. He sometimes drove me to despair with that solidity of his; it was terribly costly."

"Excuse me, sir, but I share that same 'mania,'" Wolfgang declared, with some emphasis.

"Of course. Hitherto you have been simply an engineer of the railway, and it could make but little difference to you if it cost a few millions more or less. But when in future you engage in such undertakings as my son-in-law you will think very differently."

"On such points--never!"

"Oh, you must learn to do so. In this case we can specially emphasize the admirable quality of the structure when the appraisement is made, which will probably be this year. The stockholders must own the railway; I have resolved upon that, and have already taken steps to have it so arranged. My shares stand for millions where others have invested tens of thousands at the most; I can consider myself the practical proprietor of the entire concern. Consequently I can impose my own conditions, and therefore I am especially glad to have you at the head of affairs as engineer-in-chief; we need take no stranger into counsel, but can work together."

"I am entirely at your service, sir, as you know; as matters stand, the appraisement will be tolerably high."

"I hope so," Nordheim said, slowly and significantly. "Moreover, the calculations are for the most part already made. They should be ready long beforehand, and they demand the work of a thorough man of business. I could not, therefore, call upon you to make them; you have enough to do in the conduct of the technical part of the enterprise. You will merely be called upon to review and approve the appraisement, and in this regard I rely upon you absolutely, Wolfgang. The unbounded confidence which you enjoy, as the result of your labours hitherto, will make matters very easy for us."

Wolfgang looked somewhat puzzled; it was a matter of course that he should do his duty and assist his father-in-law to the best of his ability, but there seemed some other meaning hidden behind the president's words: they sounded odd. There was no opportunity for further explanation, however, for Nordheim looked at his watch and arose.

"Four o'clock already; it will soon be dinner-time. Come, Wolfgang, we must not keep the ladies waiting."

"You brought Waltenberg with you," Elmhorst said, as he also rose.

"Yes; he met me in Heilborn, and came over with me. His patience seems to have been put to a hard test in these last four weeks. I cannot understand the man. He is proud and self-willed, even arrogant in a certain way, and yet he allows himself to be the victim of a girl's caprice. I mean to have a serious talk with my niece. The matter must be decided."

Meanwhile, they had passed through the adjoining room and entered the drawing-room, where a servant was employed in raising the curtains, which had been drawn down on account of the sun. Nordheim asked if the ladies were in the garden.

"Only the Baroness Thurgau and Herr Waltenberg," was the reply. "FrÄulein Nordheim is in her room, where the Herr Doctor is paying her a visit."

"Ah, the new physician whom you have discovered," said the president, turning to Wolfgang. "One of your early friends, I think you told me. He certainly seems to understand the matter, for Alice has changed greatly for the better in a short time. I was quite surprised by her appearance and her unusual sprightliness; the doctor seems to have worked wonders. What is the name of this Oberstein Æsculapius? You forgot to mention it in your letters."

Wolfgang had purposely avoided doing so, but he felt no longer called upon to pay any regard to what he considered as his friend's whim, and he replied, quietly,--

"Dr. Benno Reinsfeld."

Nordheim turned upon him hastily: "Whom did you say?"

"Benno Reinsfeld," Elmhorst repeated, amazed at the tone in which the question was put. He had supposed that the president would scarcely remember the name, and that he would not take the slightest interest in the old associations so foreign now to the millionaire. That they had a deep and lasting hold upon him was evident, however: Nordheim's face grew ghastly pale, and expressed dismay, and even terror, which also showed itself in his voice as he exclaimed, "What! that man in Oberstein,--and in my house?"

Wolfgang was about to reply, but at that moment the door opened and Benno himself entered. He started slightly upon perceiving the president, but paused calmly and bowed. He had just heard from Alice of her father's arrival, and was prepared for this encounter.

Nordheim immediately divined who the man was; perhaps he remembered the young physician whom he had seen for a moment three years before at Wolkenstein Court, without hearing his name, and he was man of the world enough to recover himself immediately. With apparent composure he greeted the young man whom Wolfgang now presented to him, but his impassible features were still ghastly pale.

"Herr Elmhorst wrote me that he had availed himself of your skill on behalf of his betrothed," he said, with frigid courtesy, "and I must express my thanks to you, Herr Doctor, for your efforts seem to have achieved very favourable results; my daughter looks decidedly better. Your diagnosis, I hear, differs from that of her former physicians?"

"FrÄulein Nordheim seems to me to be suffering from a derangement of the nerves," said Benno, modestly, "and I have treated her accordingly."

"Indeed? The other gentlemen were tolerably well agreed in pronouncing her heart affected."

"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 FrÄulein 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 assented, 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 associations 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 entitled 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 circumstance,--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, FrÄulein 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? Yon must have long known that I love you with all a man's passion,--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 passive, 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, passionate 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."

"Ah, he is dead, then?"

There was a degree of savage triumph in the question, and still more cruel was the hatred that flashed in his eyes,--hatred for one whom he thought dead. Erna saw it, and for an instant a wave of terror overwhelmed her. Instinctively she bowed her head as before a threatened danger, and before she was conscious that by this gesture she confirmed him in his error the involuntary falsehood was told.

Ernst drew a deep breath, and the colour slowly returned to his cheek: "Well, then, it is with the dead that I must strive. I will not fear a phantom; it must yield when once I clasp you in my arms. Erna, come to me!"

She recoiled in dismay from the passion in his words: "What! you still persist? When I tell you that I have no love to bestow upon you, does not your pride stand you in stead?"

"My pride,--where has it gone?" he broke forth. "Do you suppose that I could have gone on wooing you patiently for months without one word of encouragement from you, had I been the same Waltenberg who thought he needed but to ask of fate to attain his desire? Now I have learned to beg. The sight of you threw about me a spell to escape from which I struggle in vain. Erna, if you desire it I will resign my wandering life, and if you should wish for home in those sunny lands which I so long to show you, I will return with you to the cold, gloomy north, and for your sake assume the fetters of existence here. You do not know what a change you have already wrought in me, how all-powerful is your influence over me. Ah, do not be thus cold and impassive as your Alpine Fay upon her icy throne! I must win you for my own although your kiss were as deadly as that of the phantom of your legend."

His words were prompted by passion, strong to sweep down all obstacles in its path; such tones are always intoxicating for a woman's ear, and here, moreover, they dropped like soothing balm upon a wound that was still bleeding. It had been so humiliating to the girl to know herself ignored, resigned, not for the sake of another,--Erna knew well that that other was as nought to the man whose ambition was his god, the idol to whom she had been sacrificed. And now she was beloved, idolized, encompassed by a passionate regard which knew no calculation and no bounds. She was desired for herself alone. It was a triumph for her pride. And she was assailed, too, by pity,--by the consciousness of power to bestow happiness. Everything urged her to utter the consent for which she was implored, and yet she was restrained by an invisible something, and at this decisive moment another face arose in her memory,--a face that had looked so pale in the moonlight as the white lips had faltered, 'And could you have loved a man who had risen thus?'

"Erna, ah, do not keep me upon the rack!" Waltenberg exclaimed, with feverish impatience. "See! I kneel to implore you!" And he threw himself upon his knees before her and pressed her hand to his lips.

As she turned away her eyes as if entreating help, she suddenly started, and in a hurried whisper exclaimed, "For heaven's sake, rise, Ernst! We are not alone."

He sprang to his feet, and, following the direction of her eyes, perceived the president with his daughter and her betrothed just emerging in the distance from among the trees.

They had all been witnesses of the scene for a few seconds, but Nordheim divined that the decisive word had not been spoken, and that his self-willed niece might thwart his plan at the last moment. He therefore made haste to render its fulfilment irrevocable, and, advancing quickly, exclaimed, with a laugh, "We ask a thousand pardons! Nothing was farther from our intention than to intrude, but, since we have done so, let me offer you my best wishes, my child, and, Waltenberg, I congratulate you from my heart! We are scarcely surprised, having seen for some time how matters stood with you, and upon my arrival I perceived a betrothal in the air. Come, Alice and Wolfgang, congratulate these lovers."

He bestowed a paternal embrace upon his niece, shook Waltenberg warmly by the hand, and so overwhelmed the pair with congratulations and good wishes that no denial on Erna's part was possible. She passively allowed it all,--allowed Alice to embrace her and Ernst to clasp her hand in his as his betrothed, only fully recovering her consciousness when Wolfgang approached her.

"Let me add my good wishes to the rest, FrÄulein von Thurgau," he said. His voice was calm, too calm, and his immovable countenance betrayed no breath of the tempest raging within him. Only for one instant did his eye meet hers, and that instant told her that she was amply revenged upon the man who had sacrificed his love to ambition and the love of gold. Now that he saw her in the arms of another, he felt how pitiable had been his choice, felt that he had bartered away the happiness of his life.