style="font-size:15px;"> "Why, do you stand so much in need of that glance?" asked Cecilia archly.
"Oh! how very much I need it! It is to give me courage for a confession–will you hear it?"
She smiled and laid down the bunch of flowers that she held in her hand.
"Why, that sounds quite portentous. Is it something so important?"
"No less than the happiness of my life, for which I look to you!" replied Dernburg impetuously. "I love you, Cecilia, have done so from the first moment that my eyes rested upon you. You must have known this for a long while, could not help guessing it, but I always saw you so surrounded by admirers, and so rarely obtained the least excuse for the indulgence of hope, that I dared not press my suit. Now, though, that the time for my departure draws near, I cannot go, without certainty as to my fate. Will you be mine, Cecilia? I will lay everything, everything, at your feet, gratify every wish, and all my life long guard you as the most precious of treasures. Say one word, only a single one, that shall give me hope, but do not say 'no,' for that I could not stand."
He had caught both her hands, his face, commonly so pale, was now suffused with a bright flush, and his voice quivered with emotion. This was no stormy, passionate declaration, but each word expressed the truest love, the fullest tenderness, and the young girl who had so often been besieged by flattery and adulation, heard this tone for the first time, and listened, half perplexed, half fascinated.
Cecilia had not supposed the quiet, bashful lover, whom she had often treated with great disdain, capable of such a wooing, and as he now went on, more tenderly, more urgently, the 'yes' pleaded for came at last from her lips, rather hesitatingly, it is true, but without any sign of repugnance.
In a transport of rapture, Dernburg wanted to fold his betrothed to his heart, but she shrank back. It was an involuntary, half unconscious movement of shyness, almost aversion, such as perhaps would have wounded and chilled anybody else, but Eric only saw in it the sweet modesty of the young girl, and while he still softly clasped her hands, he whispered:
"Oh, Cecilia, if you did but know how I love you!"
There was no mistaking in his tone the genuine accents of devoted love, and it did not fail to make its impression upon Cecilia, who now began to realize that she had no right to be so reserved with the man to whom she had plighted her troth.
"Well, then, you deserve that I should give you a little love in return, Eric!" said she, with a charming smile, at the same time suffering him to draw her to his side and imprint a first kiss upon her lips.
Wildenrod was still standing out upon the veranda, and turned around with a smile as the young couple approached him. Beaming with pride and happiness, Dernburg led his betrothed up to him, and received the congratulations of his future brother-in-law, who first embraced his sister, then Eric.
Then there began a lively, cheerful conversation, out upon the balcony, where the soft breezes of spring were still sporting. The dazzling splendor of daylight was already breaking up into that gorgeous blending of colors, as is only witnessed in the South, at sundown. The city and surrounding heights were glorified, as it were, by the resplendent sheen that glistened and sparkled like molten gold upon the waves of the sea, and while the distant mountains were veiled in a roseate mist, the sun itself, a fiery ball, sank lower and lower, until it finally vanished from view.
Eric had slipped his arm around the waist of his betrothed, and whispered into her ear tender and loving words. Irradiated with glory as was the lovely landscape before them, so seemed the future to him, by the side of that precious girl. Wildenrod stood apart, apparently wholly absorbed in the contemplation of that magnificent spectacle, but nevertheless, a deep sigh of relief escaped his chest, and while his eyes flashed in triumph, he murmured, almost inaudibly: "At last!"
CHAPTER II.
IN COUNCIL
"I Am sorry, gentlemen, but I have to pronounce all your plans and proposals unsatisfactory. The question is to draw all the water-power we need from the Radefeld low-grounds, in the shortest way, and with the least possible expense. But, without exception, your designs call for such vast and expensive outlays, that it is not worth while to talk of their being carried into effect."
It was Eberhard Dernburg, the proprietor of the Odensburg Works, who thus declined the plans laid before him by his officers, in this decided manner. The gentlemen shrugged their shoulders and looked at the plans and drawings that were spread out upon the table, when, finally, one of them said:
"But, you see, Herr Dernburg, that we have to contend here with the greatest difficulties. The land lies in the most unfavorable of all ways, mountains and valleys alternating along the whole line."
"And the pipes must be secured against all casualties," remarked a second; while the third added:
"The laying of them down will certainly occasion a large expenditure, but as things are now, this cannot be altered."
These three gentlemen, the director and head-manager of the Odensburg works, the superintendent of the technical bureau, and the chief-engineer, were unanimous in their views. This conference was being held in Dernburg's office, where that gentleman usually received the reports of his subordinates, with whom his son also was found to-day. It was a large apartment, quite plainly furnished, but its walls were lined with bookcases. His desk was heaped up with letters and other papers; on the side-tables lay plans and maps of all sorts; and the great portfolios, that were visible in an open press, seemed to contain similar matter. It was evident, that this room was the central point, whence came the guidance of the whole gigantic enterprise,–a spot devoted to never-ending toil and unflagging activity.
"You do not, then, think any other solution possible?" began Dernburg again, as he drew out a paper from a portfolio near by, and spread it out before him. "Please glance at this, gentlemen! Here the course taken is to start from the higher ground, but it penetrates the Buchberg, and then, without further difficulty, is to be conveyed to the works across Radefeld itself–there is the solution sought for."
The officers looked somewhat chagrined, and eagerly bent over the drawing. Evidently none of them had thought of this plan, and yet they did not seem to consider it with any special good-will.
"The Buchberg is to be penetrated, did you say?" asked the director. "A very bold thought, that would assuredly offer great advantages, but I do not deem it feasible."
"Neither do I," chimed in the chief-engineer. "At all events, a searching examination is needed, to ascertain if it is possible. The Buchberg–"
"Is to be mastered," interposed Dernburg. "The preliminary works have already been executed. Runeck established the fact of their possibility, at the outset, when he made the outer measurements, and treats of it expressly in the explanation now lying before us."
"So the plan emanates from him, does it?" asked the superintendent of the technical bureau.
"From Egbert Runeck–he and none other."
"I thought so."
"What do you mean, Herr Winning?" asked Dernburg, quickly turning upon him.
Herr Winning made haste to protest that he had no particular meaning; that the affair only interested him because the young technician was in his own department, immediately under his superintendence: the other two said nothing but cast upon their chief, strange looks of inquiry, which he did not appear to observe.
"I have decided upon adopting Runeck's plan," said he quietly, but, at the same time, with a certain sharpness.
