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

He said all this slowly and with full emphasis.

That was a dazzling promise, which, although unspoken, yet loomed up plainly enough before the young man, and which he comprehended only too well. His lips quivered, impulsively he drew one step nearer, and said with suppressed emotion:

"Herr Dernburg–send me away!"

Now a smile relaxed Dernburg's features, and he laid his hand upon the shoulder of the agitated young man.

"No, my boy, I'll do no such thing. We must both make one more trial at getting along together. First of all, take charge of the Radefeld aqueduct. I'll see that you are left perfectly untrammeled. If we call in all available forces, we can finish by the autumn. Will you take hold?"

Egbert was evidently battling with himself. A few seconds elapsed ere he answered; then he said in a low tone:

"Herr Dernburg, it is a risk–for both of us!"

"Possibly, but I'll adventure it with you, and I think that there is no such haste about your making the people happy, that you cannot ponder the matter for a few months longer. Meanwhile, we declare a truce. And now, go to Eric! I know he is dreadfully anxious as to the result of our conversation, and Maia, too, will be rejoiced to see you again, for you are always out at Radefeld these days. But to-day you are not going to drive out until evening, and must dine with us. Done!"

He held out his hand, and Egbert silently laid his own within it. It was plain to see what an effect the goodness of the usually stern, unyielding man had had upon him, and, more yet, perhaps, the recognition of what he was worth to the man who thus spoke to him. Dernburg had adopted the right remedy, the only one that was of avail here. He required no promise and no sacrifice, both of which would have been rejected, but he showed implicit confidence in his unruly favorite, and in so doing disarmed him.

The Dernburg iron and steel works had a worldwide reputation, and could compare, indeed, with the greatest undertakings of this sort in the old as well as in the new world.

Odensburg was situated in a wooded valley between mountains, the chief wealth of which consisted in its inexhaustible mines, and, a generation before, the father of the present proprietor had established here a plain foundry and iron factory, that kept growing as the years went by. But it had only assumed its present truly vast proportions under his son, who really created the present works, that were upon an astonishingly vast scale. He had gradually bought in all the mines and forges of the region round about, absorbing also all the labor at command, and giving to his undertakings an expansion that controlled the industrial life of the whole province.

It required, indeed, an unusual amount of energy to devise such an enterprise, and then carry it on to success, but Dernburg was equal to the occasion. He had a whole array of engineers, technicians, and administrative officials; but the director, like the humblest workman, knew that all the reins joined in the master's hand, who decided everything important for himself. This master had the character of being stern and unbending, but likewise just, and if he was conscious of the whole power of his position, he had an equally high idea of its duties.

The accommodations that he provided for his workmen were on a scale commensurate with the other departments of his works, and were everywhere pronounced to be the most excellent conceivable. They were only possible for a man who had millions at his disposal, and was not stingy with his wealth, when the welfare of his subordinates was in question.

But in return for this, Dernburg demanded complete subjection to his will, and planted himself like a rock against the advent of modern ideas, such as that every individual has the right to follow his own convictions. At Odensburg, strikes, rebellion, and conflicts, such as are so common in other industrial establishments, were things unknown. It was well understood that nothing was to be gotten out of the chief by force, and, with their situations, the people well knew they lost certain provision, in the future, for themselves and their families,–thus all those incitements to insubordination, that were not lacking here either, failed to get foothold, and even if they were listened to here and there, came to nothing so far as actions were concerned.

And yet this man, who was the very embodiment of strength, had an only son for whose life he had perpetually to tremble. From his very infancy Eric had been puny and delicate, and that fall into the water, caused by his own imprudence, brought on him a dangerous illness, that lasted for months. He recovered, it is true, but could never again be called a well man, and two years before so significant a symptom as hemorrhage from the lungs had appeared, which necessitated his speedy removal from the harsh climate of home, and a long sojourn in the South.

The peculiar relation in which the youth who had saved Eric's life stood to the Dernburg family, had always been a matter of surprise in the village, and to many of envy as well. Egbert Runeck, the son of a workman employed in the foundry, had passed his early boyhood amid the plainest surroundings, and continued to move in the same sphere as his parents, until nearly grown. If, nevertheless, he learned more than any of his companions of the same age, he had, in the first place, to thank the excellent schools, which Dernburg had established for the children of his employés, and upon which he lavished uncommon care. The rarely endowed boy, with his unflagging diligence, had already, in earlier days, attracted the chief's attention, but after he had saved the life of his only son his future was decided. He shared Eric's lessons, was treated almost as a member of the family, and was finally sent to Berlin for the completion of his education.

The Manor-house lay quite apart from the works, on an eminence that commanded the whole valley. It was an imposing edifice, built in good style, with a broad terrace, long rows of windows, and a great covered piazza in front, the roof of which was supported upon columns. Dotted here and there, ever the broad expanse of lawn and park, were monarchs of the forest that had been spared in clearing, the long line of wooded hills in the rear, with their grand old trees, forming an extremely effective background for the picture. It was a fair and stately abode, that might well have merited the name of castle, but Dernburg did not like it at all when they applied that designation to it, and so it was called in the end as in the beginning, "Odensburg Manor."

The family were accustomed to spend the greatest part of the year here, although Dernburg possessed several other estates that were more beautifully situated, and he also had a residence in Berlin. But he never went to the capital, unless his duty as a member of the diet called him there; for the most part, too, he only paid short and flying visits to his other estates. Odensburg needed the master's hand and eye, and was it not the creation of his own brain? Upon this ground he was unlimited ruler; here his will alone held sway; here much could be won or lost; and therefore it had been and continued to be his favorite abode.

There was as little to be found fault with in the family-life of the Dernburgs as in their outward surroundings. He and his gentle, shrinking wife, had been a model married couple, she being in perfect subjection to her domineering husband. Now his only sister, the widowed Frau von Ringstedt took the part of lady of the house. She had lived with her brother for a good many years, and tried to make up to his children for the loss of their mother, who had died young.

It was towards the end of April, but the weather was still cold and uncomfortable. In the South, for two months already Spring had gladdened the earth with her wealth of bloom, but here, at the North, buds and leaves even now hardly dared to burst their sheaths, and a gray, cloud-covered sky spanned the somber, dark green foliage of the fir-trees.