He began to read uneasily, with sinister looks. "It is a very grave and painful matter that I must discuss with you," wrote Herr von Stettin. "I have long hesitated as to the way in which this should be done, and have finally adopted the mildest expedient, for I cannot and will not forget the friendship that bound me to your father. Therefore I only say to you that I know your past, from the moment when you left Germany, up to your last stay at Nice. When we again met there unexpectedly, I procured this knowledge--never mind how. Under the circumstances, you will readily comprehend why I challenge you to vacate the place that you now occupy at Odensburg. They say that you are the betrothed of the daughter of the house: but you yourself best know how you have forfeited the right to link your fate with that of a pure young girl. It were a crime against Herr Dernburg and his family if I should allow such a thing to happen without opening his eyes. Spare me the bitter necessity of having to come forward as your accuser. Leave Odensburg! A pretext for your departure will be found--it will then be your affair to dissolve your connection with the family from a distance, in any way you see proper. I will allow you a respite of eight days; at the end of that time, if you are still at Odensburg, I must speak, and Dernburg learns the truth. I leave you time in which to make good your retreat: it is the only thing that I can do for the son of an old friend.
"Frederick von Stettin."
Oscar let the note drop. He had not known who was the uncle and former guardian of both the Counts Eckardstein. During that brief and abruptly broken-off intercourse last summer, the name had not been called, and when Stettin himself arrived, shortly before Count Conrad's death, the relations with Odensburg had already become so strained that no notice was taken of the visitors of one family by the other. But Wildenrod knew the grave and discreet man from the visits he had paid to his father of old. He was not one to deal in mere threats; were he to refuse to retire as requested, he would do what he deemed his duty, without any hesitation, and then--then all was lost!
Oscar jumped up and paced the floor with disordered steps. Just when he had stretched forth his hand to grasp the highest prize, then had come this crushing blow. Should he yield?--should he, in secret, cowardly flight, turn his back upon Odensburg, of which he had just felt himself to be the lord and master? Never!
Eight days' respite was allowed him: it was a long time: what might not happen meanwhile? He had so often, already, stood on the verge of a precipice, whence it seemed as if a fall were inevitable, and he had always been saved by some rash resolve, or unheard-of streak of luck, now the thing to do was to put this luck once more to the test. In the midst of the wild whirl of thoughts and plans that stormed through his soul, only one thing stood out before him, clear and plain: he must make sure of Maia at any price, must chain her so firmly to him, that no power of earth, not even her father's, could tear her from him. She was the shield that would cover him from any attack, she, whose whole soul he had captivated, whose every thought and feeling belonged to him--this love was to be his salvation.
Oscar again took up the letter and read it once more from beginning to end, then crushed it and threw it into the fireplace. The paper flamed up and was quickly consumed, while the Baron threw himself back in his chair and with lowering countenance gazed into the fire, ever devising new plans.
A half hour might have thus elapsed, when the door opened, and the servant, coming in, announced:
"Mr. Runeck, the engineer."
"Who?" cried Wildenrod, starting up.
"Herr Runeck wants to speak to you, Baron, about something important."