Kabanata Kabanata 23 · The business of arranging for this sudden departure was really not

so difficult as it first appeared. Jennie proposed to tell her mother

the whole truth, and there was nothing to say to her father except

that she was going with Mrs. Bracebridge at the latter's request. He

might question her, but he really could not doubt Before going home

that afternoon she accompanied Lester to a department store, where she

was fitted out with a trunk, a suit-case, and a traveling suit and

hat. Lester was very proud of his prize. "When we get to New York I am

going to get you some real things," he told her. "I am going to show

you what you can be made to look like." He had all the purchased

articles packed in the trunk and sent to his hotel. Then he arranged

to have Jennie come there and dress Monday for the trip which began in

the afternoon.

When she came home Mrs. Gerhardt, who was in the kitchen, received

her with her usual affectionate greeting. "Have you been working very

hard?" she asked. "You look tired."

"No," she said, "I'm not tired. It isn't that. I just don't feel

good."

"What's the trouble?"

"Oh, I have to tell you something, mamma. It's so hard." She

paused, looking inquiringly at her mother, and then away.

"Why, what is it?" asked her mother nervously. So many things had

happened in the past that she was always on the alert for some new

calamity. "You haven't lost your place, have you?"

"No," replied Jennie, with an effort to maintain her mental poise,

"but I'm going to leave it."

"No!" exclaimed her mother. "Why?"

"I'm going to New York."

Her mother's eyes opened widely. "Why, when did you decide to do

that?" she inquired.

"To-day."

"You don't mean it!"

"Yes, I do, mamma. Listen. I've got something I want to tell you.

You know how poor we are. There isn't any way we can make things come

out right. I have found some one who wants to help us. He says he

loves me, and he wants me to go to New York with him Monday. I've

decided to go."

"Oh, Jennie!" exclaimed her mother. "Surely not! You wouldn't do

anything like that after all that's happened. Think of your

father."

"I've thought it all out," went on Jennie, firmly. "It's really for

the best. He's a good man. I know he is. He has lots of money. He

wants me to go with him, and I'd better go. He will take a new house

for us when we come back and help us to get along. No one will ever

have me as a wife--you know that. It might as well be this way.

He loves me. And I love him. Why shouldn't I go?"

"Does he know about Vesta?" asked her mother cautiously.

"No," said Jennie guiltily. "I thought I'd better not tell him

about her. She oughtn't to be brought into it if I can help it."

"I'm afraid you're storing up trouble for yourself, Jennie," said

her mother. "Don't you think he is sure to find it out some time?"

"I thought maybe that she could be kept here," suggested Jennie,

"until she's old enough to go to school. Then maybe I could send her

somewhere."

"She might," assented her mother; "but don't you think it would be

better to tell him now? He won't think any the worse of you."

"It isn't that. It's her," said Jennie passionately. "I don't want

her to be brought into it."

Her mother shook her head. "Where did you meet him?" she

inquired.

"At Mrs. Bracebridge's."

"How long ago?"

"Oh, it's been almost two months now."

"And you never said anything about him," protested Mrs. Gerhardt

reproachfully.

"I didn't know that he cared for me this way," said Jennie

defensively.

"Why didn't you wait and let him come out here first?" asked her

mother. "It will make things so much easier. You can't go and not have

your father find out."

"I thought I'd say I was going with Mrs. Bracebridge. Papa can't

object to my going with her."

"No," agreed her mother thoughtfully.

The two looked at each other in silence. Mrs. Gerhardt, with her

imaginative nature, endeavored to formulate some picture of this new

and wonderful personality that had come into Jennie's life. He was

wealthy; he wanted to take Jennie; he wanted to give them a good home.

What a story!

"And he gave me this," put in Jennie, who, with some instinctive

psychic faculty, had been following her mother's mood. She opened her

dress at the neck, and took out the two hundred and fifty dollars; she

placed the money in her mother's hands.

The latter stared at it wide-eyed. Here was the relief for all her

woes--food, clothes, rent, coal--all done up in one small

package of green and yellow bills. If there were plenty of money in

the house Gerhardt need not worry about his burned hands; George and

Martha and Veronica could be clothed in comfort and made happy.

Jennie could dress better; there would be a future education for

Vesta.

"Do you think he might ever want to marry you?" asked her mother

finally.

"I don't know," replied Jennie "he might. I know he loves me."

"Well," said her mother after a long pause, "if you're going to

tell your father you'd better do it right away. He'll think it's

strange as it is."

Jennie realized that she had won. Her mother had acquiesced from

sheer force of circumstances. She was sorry, but somehow it seemed to

be for the best. "I'll help you out with it," her mother had

concluded, with a little sigh.

The difficulty of telling this lie was very great for Mrs.

Gerhardt, but she went through the falsehood with a seeming

nonchalance which allayed Gerhardt's suspicions. The children were

also told, and when, after the general discussion, Jennie repeated the

falsehood to her father it seemed natural enough.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" he inquired.

"About two or three weeks," she replied.

"That's a nice trip," he said. "I came through New York in 1844. It

was a small place then compared to what it is now."

Secretly he was pleased that Jennie should have this fine chance.

Her employer must like her.

When Monday came Jennie bade her parents good-by and left early,

going straight to the Dornton, where Lester awaited her.

"So you came," he said gaily, greeting her as she entered the

ladies' parlor.

"Yes," she said simply.

"You are my niece," he went on. "I have engaged H room for you near

mine. I'll call for the key, and you go dress. When you're ready I'll

have the trunk sent to the depot. The train leaves at one

o'clock."

She went to her room and dressed, while he fidgeted about, read,

smoked, and finally knocked at her door.

She replied by opening to him, fully clad.

"You look charming," he said with a smile.

She looked down, for she was nervous and distraught. The whole

process of planning, lying, nerving herself to carry out her part had

been hard on her. She looked tired and worried.

"Not grieving, are you?" he asked, seeing how things stood.

"No-o," she replied.

"Come now, sweet. You mustn't feel this way. It's coming out all

right." He took her in his arms and kissed her, and they strolled down

the hall. He was astonished to see how well she looked in even these

simple clothes--the best she had ever had.

They reached the depot after a short carriage ride. The

accommodations had been arranged for before hand, and Kane had allowed

just enough time to make the train. When they settled themselves in a

Pullman state-room it was with a keen sense of satisfaction on his

part. Life looked rosy. Jennie was beside him. He had succeeded in

what he had started out to do. So might it always be.

As the train rolled out of the depot and the long reaches of the

fields succeeded Jennie studied them wistfully. There were the

forests, leafless and bare; the wide, brown fields, wet with the rains

of winter; the low farm-houses sitting amid flat stretches of prairie,

their low roofs making them look as if they were hugging the ground.

The train roared past little hamlets, with cottages of white and

yellow and drab, their roofs blackened by frost and rain. Jennie noted

one in particular which seemed to recall the old neighborhood where

they used to live at Columbus; she put her handkerchief to her eyes

and began silently to cry.

"I hope you're not crying, are you, Jennie?" said

Lester, looking up suddenly from the letter he had been reading.

"Come, come," he went on as he saw a faint tremor shaking her. "This

won't do. You have to do better than this. You'll never get along if

you act that way."

She made no reply, and the depth of her silent grief filled him

with strange sympathies.

"Don't cry," he continued soothingly; "everything will be all

right. I told you that. You needn't worry about anything."

Jennie made a great effort to recover herself, and began to dry her

eyes.

"You don't want to give way like that," he continued. "It doesn't

do you any good. I know how you feel about leaving home, but tears

won't help it any. It isn't as if you were going away for good, you

know. Besides, you'll be going back shortly. You care for me, don't

you, sweet? I'm something?"

"Yes," she said, and managed to smile back at him.

Lester returned to his correspondence and Jennie fell to thinking

of Vesta. It troubled her to realize that she was keeping this secret

from one who was already very dear to her. She knew that she ought to

tell Lester about the child, but she shrank from the painful

necessity. Perhaps later on she might find the courage to do it.

"I'll have to tell him something," she thought with a sudden

upwelling of feeling as regarded the seriousness of this duty. "If I

don't do it soon and I should go and live with him and he should find

it out he would never forgive me. He might turn me out, and then where

would I go? I have no home now. What would I do with Vesta?"

She turned to contemplate him, a premonitory wave of terror

sweeping over her, but she only saw that imposing and comfort-loving

soul quietly reading his letters, his smoothly shaved red cheek and

comfortable head and body looking anything but militant or like an

avenging Nemesis. She was just withdrawing her gaze when he looked

up.

"Well, have you washed all your sins away?" he inquired

merrily.

She smiled faintly at the allusion. The touch of fact in it made it

slightly piquant.

"I expect so," she replied.

He turned to some other topic, while she looked out of the window,

the realization that one impulse to tell him had proved unavailing

dwelling in her mind. "I'll have to do it shortly," she thought, and

consoled herself with the idea that she would surely find courage

before long.

Their arrival in New York the next day raised the important

question in Lester's mind as to where he should stop. New York was a

very large place, and he was not in much danger of encountering people

who would know him, but he thought it just as well not to take

chances. Accordingly he had the cabman drive them to one of the more

exclusive apartment hotels, where he engaged a suite of rooms; and

they settled themselves for a stay of two or three weeks.

This atmosphere into which Jennie was now plunged was so wonderful,

so illuminating, that she could scarcely believe this was the same

world that she had inhabited before. Kane was no lover of vulgar

display. The appointments with which he surrounded himself were always

simple and elegant. He knew at a glance what Jennie needed, and bought

for her with discrimination and care. And Jennie, a woman, took a keen

pleasure in the handsome gowns and pretty fripperies that he lavished

upon her. Could this be really Jennie Gerhardt, the washerwoman's

daughter, she asked herself, as she gazed in her mirror at the figure

of a girl clad in blue velvet, with yellow French lace at her throat

and upon her arms? Could these be her feet, clad in soft shapely shoes

at ten dollars a pair, these her hands adorned with flashing jewels?

What wonderful good fortune she was enjoying! And Lester had promised

that her mother would share in it. Tears sprang to her eyes at the

thought. The dear mother, how she loved her!

It was Lester's pleasure in these days to see what he could do to

make her look like some one truly worthy of im. He exercised his most

careful judgment, and the result surprised even himself. People turned

in the halls, in the dining-rooms, and on the street to gaze at

Jennie.

"A stunning woman that man has with him," was a frequent

comment.

Despite her altered state Jennie did not lose her judgment of life

or her sense of perspective or proportion. She felt as though life

were tentatively loaning her something which would be taken away after

a time. There was no pretty vanity in her bosom. Lester realized this

as he watched her. "You're a big woman, in your way," he said. "You'll

amount to something. Life hasn't given you much of a deal up to

now."

He wondered how he could justify this new relationship to his

family, should they chance to hear about it. If he should decide to

take a home in Chicago or St. Louis (there was such a thought running

in his mind) could he maintain it secretly? Did he want to? He was

half persuaded that he really, truly loved her.

As the time drew near for their return he began to counsel her as

to her future course of action. "You ought to find some way of

introducing me, as an acquaintance, to your father," he said. "It will

ease matters up. I think I'll call. Then if you tell him you're going

to marry me he'll think nothing of it." Jennie thought of Vesta, and

trembled inwardly. But perhaps her father could be induced to remain

silent.

Lester had made the wise suggestion that she should retain the

clothes she had worn in Cleveland in order that she might wear them

home when she reached there. "There won't be any trouble about this

other stuff," he said. "I'll have it cared for until we make some

other arrangement." It was all very simple and easy; he was a master

strategist.

Jennie had written her mother almost daily since she had been East.

She had inclosed little separate notes to be read by Mrs. Gerhardt

only. In one she explained Lester's desire to call, and urged her

mother to prepare the way by telling her father that she had met some

one who liked her. She spoke of the difficulty concerning Vesta, and

her mother at once began to plan a campaign o have Gerhardt hold his

peace. There must be no hitch now. Jennie must be given an opportunity

to better herself. When she returned there was great rejoicing. Of

course she could not go back to her work, but Mrs. Gerhardt explained

that Mrs. Bracebridge had given Jennie a few weeks' vacation in order

that she might look for something better, something at which he could

make more money.