The Alpine Fay
E. Werner
E.В Werner
The Alpine Fay: A Romance
CHAPTER I.
A MOUNTAIN-HOME
High above the snow-crowned summits of the mountains gleamed a rainbow. The storm had passed; there was still a low mutter of thunder in the ravines, and masses of clouds lay encamped about the mountainsides, but the skies were once more clear, the loftiest peaks were unveiling, and dark forests and green slopes were beginning slowly to emerge from the sea of cloud and mist.
The extensive Alpine valley through which rushed a considerable stream lay far in the depths of the mountain-range, so secluded and lonely that it might have been entirely shut off from the world and its turmoil; and yet the world had found the way to it. The quiet mountain-road, usually deserted save for an occasional wagon or a strolling pedestrian, was all astir with bustle and life. Everywhere were to be seen groups of engineers and labourers; everywhere measuring, surveying, and planning were going on; the railway, in a couple of years, was to stretch its iron arms forth into this mountain seclusion, and preparations were already making for its course.
Some way up the mountain-road, on the brink of a hollow whose rocky sides fell away in a steep descent, lay a dwelling-house, which at first sight did not appear to differ much from others scattered here and there among the mountains; a near view, however, soon made plain that it was no peasant's abode situated thus on the spacious green slope. The house had firmly-cemented walls of blocks of stone, and low but broad doors and windows; two semicircular projections, the pointed roofs of which gave them the air of small towers, lent it a stately appearance, and above the entrance there was artistically carved in the stone a scutcheon.
It was one of those old baronial mansions, yet to be found here and there among the mountains, simple and rude, half suggesting a peasant abode, gray and weather-worn, but stoutly resisting the decay to which many a proud castle had fallen a victim. The ascending slope of the mountain formed a picturesque background, and high above a huge peak reared its rocky crest, crowned with snow, lonely and proud.
The interior of the house accorded with its outside. Through a vaulted hall, with a stone floor, a low spacious room was reached which occupied nearly the entire width of the building. The wainscot, brown with age, the gigantic tiled stove, the high-backed chairs, and the heavily-carved oaken cupboards were all plain and simple and showed marks of long years of use. The windows were wide open, affording a magnificent view of the mountains, but the two gentlemen sitting at the table were too earnestly engaged in conversation to pay any heed to the beauties which each moment revealed more fully.
One of them, a man fifty years of age, was a giant in stature, with a broad chest and powerful limbs. Not a thread of silver as yet streaked his thick hair and fair, full beard; his tanned face beamed with the life and health that characterized his entire figure. His companion was of perhaps the same age, but his spare figure, his sharp features, and his gray hair made him appear much older. His face and the high forehead, already deeply lined, spoke of restless striving and scheming, as well as of the energy necessary for them; there was in his expression a degree of arrogance which was far from prepossessing, and his air and speech conveyed an impression of self-confidence, as of a man accustomed to rule those about him.
"So pray listen to reason, Thurgau," he said, in a tone in which impatience was audible. "Your opposition will do you no good. In any case you will be forced to relinquish your estate."
"I, forced!" exclaimed Thurgau, angrily. "We'll see about that. While I live, not a stone of Wolkenstein shall be touched."
"But it is directly in the way. The big bridge starts from here, and the line of railway goes directly through your property."
"Then alter your cursed line of railway! Carry it where you choose, over the top of the Wolkenstein, for all I care, but let my h