Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

Wildenrod knew the works thoroughly: he turned first to the cottage of old Mertens, who, since work at Radefeld had come to an end, had held a place here, and aroused him also. The alarm was sounded; in a few minutes some twenty men had assembled, and now the sensational, howling tones of the fire-horn were heard. Odensburg had the most admirable arrangements for extinguishing fire to be found far or near: Dernburg had formed a volunteer fire-company out of his working force, and the men were excellently drilled. But now all the bonds of order were loosed, the workmen were scattered in their remote dwellings, so that assistance from them was hardly to be expected.

Now appeared Dernburg himself, who had been sitting up alone in his office, when the alarm of fire was given, and at the same time came hurrying up some of the officers whose residences were near by. Wildenrod suddenly saw himself face to face with the man, who, a few hours ago, had admitted him to the rights of a son, and who, meanwhile, must have heard that crushing revelation. Dernburg, also, involuntarily shrank back upon catching sight of the Baron, whom he had supposed to have taken to flight, and imagined already as far away. But now there was no time for any discussion whatever–Oscar had resolutely gone up to Dernburg.

"I was the first to discover the fire," said he, "and had the fire-signal sounded at once. The flames seem to have broken out in the rolling-mills."

"Yes, that is the place!" agreed Dernburg. "But it cannot have arisen there through heedlessness–no work has been done there since noon. It must be the work of an incendiary!"

Those present all shared his opinion, it was plain, but Wildenrod cut off any further remarks. "Never mind, we must penetrate to the seat of the fire!" he cried. "In this wind all the works are in the greatest danger."

"In this wind they are lost!" said Dernburg, gloomily. "We have not the hands for putting it out."

"But our fire-company! The workmen–" objected old Mertens, but a bitter laugh from his master interrupted him.

"My workmen? They will let burn whatever is afire. Call them up as much as you please with your fire-horns, nobody is coming–nobody, I tell you! They are my works, not a hand will stir!"

But, as if in reply, loud shouts and voices were now heard, and torches were seen gleaming at the entrance to the works. A troop of workmen appeared in closed ranks, with fire-helmets on their heads and asbestos frocks thrown on, while behind them thundered the engines. And after five minutes came a second troop, and then a third and a fourth. Now the cry of "fire!" was heard on all sides; near and far it resounded, until the whole valley was alive, and lights were shining in all quarters. The works filled with men; all came and all were prepared to help.

In the beginning Dernburg had been almost petrified at the sight of these arrivals; but now, when one procession after the other emerged from the darkness, when the people came as though on a race between life and death–anything so as only to arrive in time–when the engines drove up at a gallop, then the lord of Odensburg heaved a long, deep sigh; he straightened himself up, as though he had cast from him a burden long borne, and shouted:

"Well, men, if you want to help, then, forward! Down with the fire!"

This was done, but the conflagration had already found too abundant aliment. The whole interior of the rolling-mills seemed to be in flames, and in vain they sought to force their way in. Dernburg had undertaken, in person, the superintendence of the attempts to quench the fire, and guided his men by word and look, while they obeyed him as punctually and studiously as ever.

But Oscar von Wildenrod also worked unweariedly to the same end. He did not stop to ask whether they would concede to him this right–he simply took it. He was everywhere as the emergency demanded. But although he courageously and undauntedly led forward single detachments again and again, although the engines incessantly hurled their hissing streams into the fiercest of the flames, yet the fire had an overpoweringly strong ally in the prevailing wind, and, in union with it, defied all their exertions. Like fiery serpents the flames darted out of the house windows, licking the walls and shooting their tongues forth venomously from the roof. The wind was already driving them across to other roofs; it bore burning bits of wood aloft through the air, in order to drop them again where they would kindle and extend the disaster.

Already the fire had broken out in single spots, and wherever this happened, detachments had to be sent for its extinction.

Oscar von Wildenrod had just returned from one of these side-fires, which he had had put out under his own supervision, to the starting point of the conflagration, where Herr Dernburg had planted himself like a rock. Dernburg was just talking with the upper-engineer, who stood before him with the crestfallen look of one at his wits' end.

"We are not subduing it, Herr Dernburg," said he. "Only see, the fire already threatens to catch the foundries, and if they burn, then it will make a clean sweep of the whole. There might be one expedient, perhaps, but you will not consent to it–suppose we made the attempt to turn on the water from the Radefeld aqueduct."

"No, never–that would imperil human life! Maybe volunteers might be found; in their present mood the people are capable of any sacrifice, but no man's life shall be victimized for my sake–rather let the works all burn down."

He stepped up to the engineers that were advancing to a new attack with their water-jets, and there gave a few orders, while Wildenrod, who had been listening, turned to the upper-engineer.

"What is that about the Radefeld aqueduct?" asked he, eagerly.

"The aqueduct is immediately adjacent to the rolling-mills," answered the officer. "If it had been possible promptly to open the large main pipe, then the fire might have been quenched. But there it originated and burned most fiercely, so that we could gain no access to its focus. The pipe lies–"

"I know," interposed Wildenrod. "I was present when the conduit was joined on and tested, and saw, too, how they opened the afflux. Access is impossible to it, do you say?"

The upper-engineer shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the state of the conflagration. "Earlier it might have been possible to have cleared a way with our engines, at least for a short while, but Herr Dernburg is right, the attempt would cost human life. Who would venture into those glowing walls that may cave in at any moment? And even if one did succeed in opening the pipe, and conducting the mass of water in the reservoir to the seat of the fire, how would our men get back? The smoke would smother them. If the water escapes no one would come forth alive."

"The only question is, how one may get in alive," murmured Oscar, with his eye fixed upon the leaping flames. The upper-engineer looked at him in surprise, but before he could answer the chief came back. "You assume the command over there," was his order. "Winning can hold out no longer."

The officer hurried away, and Dernburg scanned the Baron with a forbidding look. "What do you want here?" asked he in a subdued tone. "There are hands enough for putting out the fire, we do not need your help."

"More than you think, perhaps!" said Wildenrod, with a strange smile.

Dernburg stepped close up to him. "I did not want to expose you before my officers and workmen, but now I tell you, you are no longer in place here, Baron von Wildenrod. Go!"

Wildenrod met firmly the eyes that were fastened upon him so menacingly, then said slowly and earnestly: "I am going! Bid Maia farewell for me; perhaps you will still allow her–to weep for me!"

He turned off and was lost in the crowd of toilers.

Those were awful experiences that Odensburg passed through that night. The wind-chased clouds, tinted blood-red by the aspiring flames, the waving masses of men rushing hither and thither, a commingling of dreadful sounds, shouts, cries, and the clattering of the engines–it was a dismal scene.

Then, all of a sudden, there arose a mighty column of smoke from the very center of the fire, that spread out farther and farther, while at the same time a peculiar hissing and roaring became audible. The flames no longer leaped up so high as before; they seemed to sink, to flee before some mysterious power, while the smoke and the roaring were ever on the increase. Those standing around could not explain the phenomenon: suppositions of all sorts were heard, but Dernburg was the first one to solve the problem. "The Radefeld aqueduct is open!" he cried. "The water has broken in. Perhaps the pipe has burst or the fire has sprung the lock. Never mind–it brings us deliverance!"

Breathlessly all watched the conflict between the two hostile elements, but soon the flood conquered, which evidently deluged the whole surface where the fire had found its chief nutriment. Different spots on the roof were still afire, it is true, but these could be put out, and were put out, when the sea of flame in the interior had disappeared for good. Again the engines played with renewed force and activity, and now a portion of the long tottering walls tumbled down, the main building caved in, its sides falling inwards. Thus was averted all danger to the neighboring houses and the fire restricted to its own hearth.

"That was help in time of need!" said Dernburg to the officers standing around. "And that the water broke loose at the critical moment was assuredly more than accident–the interposition of a Higher Hand."

"I am afraid that it was a human hand!" returned the upper-engineer, softly.

Dernburg turned to him in surprise. "What mean you to say?"

"Baron von Wildenrod is nowhere to be found," explained that official gravely. "He spoke with me awhile ago as to the possibility of opening the conduit, and at the same time made use of a singular expression that startled me at the time. A few minutes later I saw him hurrying in that direction and there vanish. There has been no accident in this case."

Dernburg turned pale: now all of a sudden Oscar's last speech became clear to him and he understood it all. "For God's sake!" he exclaimed, with a start, "then we must penetrate to the seat of the conflagration, must at least try–"

"Impossible!" interposed the director. "Beneath those glowing, smoking ruins no living thing yet breathes."

What he said was only too true, Dernburg was obliged himself to admit. Deeply shaken, he covered his eyes with his hand. For him there was no longer any doubt but that the man who had coveted Odensburg for his own, at any price, had sacrificed himself to save Odensburg!

Hours of labor were still needed at the scene of the fire. Here and there forks of flame shot up again and had to be extinguished, the area covered by the conflagration had to be isolated, and the ever-flowing streams of the Radefeld aqueduct had to be cut off.

Day had already dawned, when it was finally possible to dismiss the people, only retaining a sufficient number of men to act as a guard. All had done their utmost, vying with one another in courage and endurance; now the men waited for their chief, exhausted as they were from their long labors, with faces blackened by smoke and their clothes dripping wet. All eyes were silently and questioningly fastened upon him, as he now stepped into their midst, his voice, although full of deep feeling, was audible to a great distance.

"I thank you, children! I shall never forget you and what you have done for me this night. You gave me warning that you had quit work, and I wanted to forbid your taking it up again. Now, you have worked for me and my Odensburg, and so I think"–here he suddenly held out both hands to an old workman with hoary head, who stood close before him–"we'll stay together now, and work together as we have done for the past thirty years!"

And in the hearty shout of rejoicing that rang forth from all quarters ended the strike at Odensburg.

CHAPTER XXVI.

HOW FORCES THAT ARE OPPOSED MAY BLEND

More than two years had elapsed since that stormy night when the conflagration had raged at the Odensburg works, but out of the wind and fire of that period, which had threatened everything with annihilation, had come forth new life and activity.

Those occurrences, which had then affected Dernburg's family circle as seriously as they had done his position as lord of Odensburg, had gradually retreated into the background, although, for a long while, they had shown their pregnant results. On the day after the fire, the charred remains of Oscar von Wildenrod had been found. His magnanimous action–of which there could be no doubt–was everywhere admired; only Dernburg and Egbert knew, while a few of the formerly initiated suspected, that a stained and abandoned life had been atoned for by this voluntary self-immolation. For all the rest, the memory of the Baron remained pure, laid to rest as he had been in the family burying-ground by Eric's side, and beneath the rustling fir-trees of the Odensburg park.

The universal impression continued to be that the fire had been the work of an incendiary, but the proof of this had not been found, and was not to be, either. Fallner, to whom one suspicious circumstance pointed, had left Germany, to escape the prosecution impending over him, on account of his murderous assault upon Runeck. Since all these events had acquired a publicity that was altogether undesirable, they wanted, by all means, to avoid being forced into notice again through a lawsuit.

On this point Dernburg and his opponents were fully agreed.

He did his very best to cause the mantle of silence to be thrown over the whole affair, in order that the newly-won peace with his workmen might not be imperiled by bitter memories and discussions.

From his sick-bed Runeck had sent word to his party, that he must lay down his commission. This resolve would have been unavoidable, even without the severe wound which chained him to his couch for weeks, and forbade his engaging in any serious business for months. The bond between him and his former comrades, which already, for a long time, had only existed outwardly, was now definitively severed. The result of the new election might have been easily predicted: there was only one man who could have disputed the place with the master of Odensburg, and he had withdrawn. From the second casting of the ballot Eberhard Dernburg came out with an overwhelming majority, and this time his Odensburg employés all stood by him to a man. The reconciliation had been complete.

After his recovery, Egbert had left Odensburg and stayed away for a long while. He, like Dernburg, felt that the new future, about which they were fully agreed, was not to be linked immediately and unceremoniously to the past, seeing that many an inward wound must close up ere the outward one should be perfectly healed. The young engineer had traveled widely and spent a full year in America, where there was so much for him to see and learn. There he had completed the studies which he had once begun in England. Now, when at last he returned to Odensburg, his long waiting was at an end, and he dared to claim the good fortune that had once bloomed for him on the very verge of the grave; after a short engagement, his marriage with Cecilia took place in all quietness.

To-day the cheerful sounds betokening festivity were to be heard in the Manor-house, for they were looking for the return of the bridal pair from their wedding-trip. And Frau Dr. Hagenbach was just adding a few last touches to the preparations for their reception, that lady having retained her old intimate relations with the Dernburg household after her marriage. The rooms that were now fitted up for Egbert and Cecilia Runeck were entirely different from those that had once received Eric's betrothed, being situated on the opposite side of the house, and destined for their permanent abode.

Leonie placed a few more flowers in the reception-room. From the sickly, nervous, and rather wan old maid had emerged a smiling and graceful matron: Dr. Hagenbach having asserted his rights as a physician as well as husband, and completely cured his wife of those detested nervous attacks.

Frau Hagenbach had just completed her task, when the door opened and her husband entered. Wedded life seemed to have agreed well with him, too, for he had a highly contented look, while both his manners and mode of speech were changed for the better.–It was easy to see that he had gone to work in earnest to become "humanized." He nodded to his wife and said:

"I have come up only for a minute, to let you know that I have to visit one more patient first. It will not take me long, though, so that I shall be in time for the reception, anyhow."

"They will not arrive much before two o'clock," remarked his wife. "One more question, though, dear Hugo–have you considered that matter of Dagobert's?"

The doctor again made one of those grimaces, once so common with him, and his voice sounded rather gruff as he answered:

"There is nothing to be considered! I shall take care not to send the fellow the three hundred marks, that, according to his assertion, he needs so urgently. He must make out with the allowance that I have settled upon him, once for all."

"But the sum is not so large after all," objected Mrs. Hagenbach, "and in other respects you have no fault to find with Dagobert. He works industriously, writes to us frequently–"

"And still persistently reviles you in prose and verse," said Hagenbach, finishing her sentence for her. "To be sure no rational man would demean himself by being jealous of such a simpleton, although he did presume to write to me, after the reception of our wedding-cards, that I had inflicted a mortal wound upon his betrayed heart. A pierced heart does not, however, hinder him from hiding behind his aunt, when he wants to get anything out of me, the traitor, and she, alas! always takes his part. But this time nothing helps him–he does not get that money, so much is settled!"

Leonie did not contradict him, she only smiled with a submissive look, and let the subject drop.

"We shall be in the strictest seclusion to-day," she remarked. "Count Eckardstein is the only person invited."

"Well, I hope that means that we are soon to have another bride in the house, and that it will not be too long before a young countess makes her entrée into Eckardstein."

His wife shook her head dubiously. "I am afraid this is by no means settled. Herr Dernburg doubtless desires it, but Maia's demeanor is anything but encouraging. Who knows what answer she will give, if the Count actually proposes."

"But she cannot grieve forever over her former betrothed–she was little else than a child then."

"And yet his death very nearly cost her her life."

"Yes, a fine time we had of it, truly!" said Hagenbach with a sigh. "On one side there was Egbert, who for weeks hovered between life and death, on the other Fräulein Maia, likewise making preparations to die, and between them Madame Cecilia, who, one day, when Runeck was at the worst, coolly declared to me, that if I did not save her Egbert, she did not care to live longer, either. We did not have the jolliest of times during our engagement, did we, my dear? Thank God, it has been better since we were married. But I must be gone! I must go home. First, though, have you any order to give?"

"Only a trifle to be attended to. You were going to send the coachman to the station, you know–he can take with him the letter and post-office order."

"What post-office order?" asked the doctor, suspiciously.

"Why, the three hundred marks for Dagobert. I have already filled out the order, which is lying on your desk; you will have nothing to do but to supply the money–"

"I am not thinking of such a thing," cried the doctor, fuming.

"Yes, but you are thinking of it, though," protested Frau Dr. Hagenbach, with a decision, alas! that was not to be gainsaid. "You are only afraid of somewhat weakening your authority, and in this you are right, as you always are. Therefore I acted in your stead and wrote to Dagobert myself. It was done only for your sake, you perceive that, dear Hugo."

"Leonie, what are you thinking of?" exclaimed Hagenbach, irritably. "I have told you once, and now tell you again–"

He did not succeed in repeating his remark, however, for his wife interrupted him. "I know, Hugo, you are in the habit of representing yourself as hardhearted when you are goodness itself. You made up your mind long ago to send the poor youth that money, dear Hugo–"

The "dear Hugo" had learned many a thing already since he had entered the estate of matrimony. He never heard a contradiction, it is true, and everything was done exclusively out of deference to his will–this his wife told him daily, and he believed it, too, for the most part; but the Odensburg people were of a different opinion. In that village it was positively asserted, that "the madam ruled the roost." In this particular case, it is certain that the post-office order for three hundred marks was sent off in the course of the next hour.

In the parlor sat Maia Dernburg alone, at the window: at her feet lay the elderly Puck: he had become orderly and intelligent, and had entirely laid aside his inclination to attack in the rear men who wore plaid pantaloons. To be sure he was not so much teased as formerly; his young mistress stroked and caressed him still, it is true, but the merry romps that she used to carry on with him had long since ceased. In general, "little Maia" no longer existed, that fascinating childlike creature with exuberant spirits and laughing eyes. The slender, white-robed young lady there at the window certainly possessed great attractions, having developed from the laughing child into the quiet, gentle maiden, and in those brown eyes lay, as it were, deep, dark shadows, telling of a grief not yet altogether overcome.

It was quiet round about, and Maia was looking dreamily out upon the bright summer landscape, when her father entered. His hair had turned gray during these last years, but in every other respect he was the same erect, hale old man that we have known.

"Are you already on the lookout for the carriage?" he asked.

"No, papa, it is too early for that as yet," replied the young girl. "Egbert and Cecilia cannot be here for an hour yet, but as we have finished all our preparations for their reception–"

"So much the better, for then we shall have an hour to devote to our guest alone. Eckardstein is already here–over in my office."

"Ah! Why, then, did he not come with you?"

"Because he deemed it necessary to send me in advance, as his spokesman. We have had a long and interesting interview–am I to repeat to you what was said, or do you guess the tenor of our remarks?"

Maia had risen to her feet: she had become pale, while her eyes were full of entreaty as she fixed them upon her father.

"Papa–could you not spare me this?"

"No, my child," said Dernburg, earnestly. "Victor has determined to bring the matter to an issue, and you will be obliged to listen to his suit. He has begged me to intercede for him, and I have promised him to do so, for I owe him reparation for the injustice I once did him. He asked for leave to pay his addresses to you three years ago, although it did not come to an open declaration; in this wooing of a portionless young officer I saw nothing but calculation, and my insinuations made him feel very bitterly. He has proved, however, that his love was true and genuine. The lord-proprietor of Eckardstein needs to ask for no dowry with his bride, and I would gladly, very gladly, place my Maia's happiness in his hands."

"I should like to stay with you, papa," whispered the young girl, in painful agitation nestling up to his side. "Will you not keep me, then?"

"My child, we shall not be separated, even if you do become Victor's wife. You best know what has hitherto kept him aloof from Eckardstein: your consent would immediately determine him to resign his commission in the army, and henceforth devote himself to the care of his estates. Then we should still be together, Eckardstein is so near, you know."

"I cannot!" cried Maia, vehemently, while she drew herself up. "Oscar chained me indissolubly to himself in life, and I am not free from him in death, either! How often has my heart been heavy when I caught the expression of Victor's speaking eyes, not being able to misunderstand the mute plea that I read there–but I cannot be happy at the side of any other."