Bab Bab 60 · The drift of events for a period of five years carried Lester and

Jennie still farther apart; they settled naturally into their

respective spheres, without the renewal of the old time relationship

which their several meetings at the Tremont at first seemed to

foreshadow. Lester was in the thick of social and commercial affairs;

he walked in paths to which Jennie's retiring soul had never aspired.

Jennie's own existence was quiet and uneventful. There was a simple

cottage in a very respectable but not showy neighborhood near Jackson

Park, on the South Side, where she lived in retirement with a little

foster-child--a chestnut-haired girl taken from the Western Home

for the Friendless--as her sole companion. Here she was known as

Mrs. J. G. Stover, for she had deemed it best to abandon the name of

Kane. Mr. and Mrs. Lester Kane when resident in Chicago were the

occupants of a handsome mansion on the Lake Shore Drive, where

parties, balls, receptions, dinners were given in rapid and at times

almost pyrotechnic succession.

Lester, however, had become in his way a lover of a peaceful and

well-entertained existence. He had cut from his list of acquaintances

and associates a number of people who had been a little doubtful or

overfamiliar or indifferent or talkative during a certain period which

to him was a memory merely. He was a director, and in several cases

the chairman of a board of directors, in nine of the most important

financial and commercial organizations of the West--The United

Traction Company of Cincinnati, The Western Crucible Company, The

United Carriage Company, The Second National Bank of Chicago, the

First National Bank of Cincinnati, and several others of equal

importance. He was never a personal factor in the affairs of The

United Carriage Company, preferring to be represented by

counsel--Mr. Dwight L. Watson, but he took a keen interest in its

affairs. He had not seen his brother Robert to speak to him in seven

years. He had not seen Imogene, who lived in Chicago, in three.

Louise, Amy, their husbands, and some of their closest acquaintances

were practically strangers. The firm of Knight, Keatley & O'Brien

had nothing whatever to do with his affairs.

The truth was that Lester, in addition to becoming a little

phlegmatic, was becoming decidedly critical in his outlook on life. He

could not make out what it was all about. In distant ages a queer

thing had come to pass. There had started on its way in the form of

evolution a minute cellular organism which had apparently reproduced

itself by division, had early learned to combine itself with others,

to organize itself into bodies, strange forms of fish, animals, and

birds, and had finally learned to organize itself into man. Man, on

his part, composed as he was of self-organizing cells, was pushing

himself forward into comfort and different aspects of existence by

means of union and organization with other men. Why? Heaven only knew.

Here he was endowed with a peculiar brain and a certain amount of

talent, and he had inherited a certain amount of wealth which he now

scarcely believed he deserved, only luck had favored him. But he could

not see that any one else might be said to deserve this wealth any

more than himself, seeing that his use of it was as conservative and

constructive and practical as the next one's. He might have been born

poor, in which case he would have been as well satisfied as the next

one--not more so. Why should he complain, why worry, why

speculate?--the world was going steadily forward of its own

volition, whether he would or no. Truly it was. And was there any need

for him to disturb himself about it? There was not. He fancied at

times that it might as well never have been started at all. "The one

divine, far-off event" of the poet did not appeal to him as having any

basis in fact. Mrs. Lester Kane was of very much the same opinion.

Jennie, living on the South Side with her adopted child, Rose

Perpetua, was of no fixed conclusion as to the meaning of life. She

had not the incisive reasoning capacity of either Mr. or Mrs. Lester

Kane. She had seen a great deal, suffered a great deal, and had read

some in a desultory way. Her mind had never grasped the nature and

character of specialized knowledge. History, physics, chemistry,

botany, geology, and sociology were not fixed departments in her brain

as they were in Lester's and Letty's. Instead there was the feeling

that the world moved in some strange, unstable way. Apparently no one

knew clearly what it was all about. People were born and died. Some

believed that the world had been made six thousand years before; some

that it was millions of years old. Was it all blind chance, or was

there some guiding intelligence--a God? Almost in spite of

herself she felt there must be something--a higher power which

produced all the beautiful things--the flowers, the stars, the

trees, the grass. Nature was so beautiful! If at times life seemed

cruel, yet this beauty still persisted. The thought comforted her; she

fed upon it in her hours of secret loneliness.

It has been said that Jennie was naturally of an industrious turn.

She liked to be employed, though she thought constantly as she worked.

She was of matronly proportions in these days--not disagreeably

large, but full bodied, shapely, and smooth-faced in spite of her

cares. Her eyes were gray and appealing. Her hair was still of a rich

brown, but there were traces of gray in it. Her neighbors spoke of her

as sweet-tempered, kindly, and hospitable. They knew nothing of her

history, except that she had formerly resided in Sandwood, and before

that in Cleveland. She was very reticent as to her past.

Jennie had fancied, because of her natural aptitude for taking care

of sick people, that she might get to be a trained nurse. But she was

obliged to abandon that idea, for she found that only young people

were wanted. She also thought that some charitable organization might

employ her, but she did not understand the new theory of charity which

was then coming into general acceptance and practice--namely,

only to help others to help themselves. She believed in giving, and

was not inclined to look too closely into the credentials of those who

asked for help; consequently her timid inquiry at one relief agency

after another met with indifference, if not unqualified rebuke. She

finally decided to adopt another child for Rose Perpetua's sake; she

succeeded in securing a boy, four years old, who was known as

Henry--Henry Stover. Her support was assured, for her income was

paid to her through a trust company. She had no desire for speculation

or for the devious ways of trade. The care of flowers, the nature of

children, the ordering of a home were more in her province.

One of the interesting things in connection with this separation

once it had been firmly established related to Robert and Lester, for

these two since the reading of the will a number of years before had

never met. Robert had thought of his brother often. He had followed

his success since he had left Jennie with interest. He read of his

marriage to Mrs. Gerald with pleasure; he had always considered her an

ideal companion for his brother. He knew by many signs and tokens that

his brother, since the unfortunate termination of their father's

attitude and his own peculiar movements to gain control of the Kane

Company, did not like him. Still they had never been so far apart

mentally--certainly not in commercial judgment. Lester was

prosperous now. He could afford to be generous. He could afford to

make up. And after all, he had done his best to aid his brother to

come to his senses--and with the best intentions. There were

mutual interests they could share financially if they were friends. He

wondered from time to time if Lester would not be friendly with

him.

Time passed, and then once, when he was in Chicago, he made the

friends with whom he was driving purposely turn into the North Shore

in order to see the splendid mansion which the Kanes occupied. He knew

its location from hearsay and description.

When he saw it a touch of the old Kane home atmosphere came back to

him. Lester in revising the property after purchase had had a

conservatory built on one side not unlike the one at home in

Cincinnati. That same night he sat down and wrote Lester asking if he

would not like to dine with him at the Union Club. He was only in town

for a day or two, and he would like to see him again. There was some

feeling he knew, but there was a proposition he would like to talk to

him about. Would he come, say, on Thursday?

On the receipt of this letter Lester frowned and fell into a brown

study. He had never really been healed of the wound that his father

had given him. He had never been comfortable in his mind since Robert

had deserted him so summarily. He realized now that the stakes his

brother had been playing for were big. But, after all, he had been his

brother, and if he had been in Robert's place at the time, he would

not have done as he had done; at least he hoped not. Now Robert wanted

to see him.

He thought once of not answering at all. Then he thought he would

write and say no. But a curious desire to see Robert again, to hear

what he had to say, to listen to the proposition he had to offer, came

over him; he decided to write yes. It could do no harm. He knew it

could do no good. They might agree to let by-gones be by-gones, but

the damage had been done. Could a broken bowl be mended and called

whole? It might be called whole, but what of it? Was it not

broken and mended? He wrote and intimated that he would come.

On the Thursday in question Robert called up from the Auditorium to

remind him of the engagement. Lester listened curiously to the sound

of his voice. "All right," he said, "I'll be with you." At noon he

went down-town, and there, within the exclusive precincts of the Union

Club, the two brothers met and looked at each other again. Robert was

thinner than when Lester had seen him last, and a little grayer. His

eyes were bright and steely, but there were crow's-feet on either

side. His manner was quick, keen, dynamic. Lester was noticeably of

another type--solid, brusque, and indifferent. Men spoke of

Lester these days as a little hard. Robert's keen blue eyes did not

disturb him in the least--did not affect him in any way. He saw

his brother just as he was, for he had the larger philosophic and

interpretative insight; but Robert could not place Lester exactly. He

could not fathom just what had happened to him in these years. Lester

was stouter, not gray, for some reason, but sandy and ruddy, looking

like a man who was fairly well satisfied to take life as he found it.

Lester looked at his brother with a keen, steady eye. The latter

shifted a little, for he was restless. He could see that there was no

loss of that mental force and courage which had always been

predominant characteristics in Lester's make-up.

"I thought I'd like to see you again, Lester," Robert remarked,

after they had clasped hands in the customary grip. "It's been a long

time now--nearly eight years, hasn't it?"

"About that," replied Lester. "How are things with you?"

"Oh, about the same. You've been fairly well, I see."

"Never sick," said Lester. "A little cold now and then. I don't

often go to bed with anything. How's your wife?"

"Oh, Margaret's fine."

"And the children?"

"We don't see much of Ralph and Berenice since they married, but

the others are around more or less. I suppose your wife is all right,"

he said hesitatingly. It was difficult ground for Robert.

Lester eyed him without a change of expression.

"Yes," he replied. "She enjoys pretty fair health. She's quite well

at present."

They drifted mentally for a few moments, while Lester inquired

after the business, and Amy, Louise, and Imogene. He admitted frankly

that he neither saw nor heard from them nowadays. Robert told him what

he could.

"The thing that I was thinking of in connection with you, Lester,"

said Robert finally, "is this matter of the Western Crucible Steel

Company. You haven't been sitting there as a director in person I

notice, but your attorney, Watson, has been acting for you. Clever

man, that. The management isn't right--we all know that. We need

a practical steel man at the head of it, if the thing is ever going to

pay properly. I have voted my stock with yours right along because the

propositions made by Watson have been right. He agrees with me that

things ought to be changed. Now I have a chance to buy seventy shares

held by Rossiter's widow. That with yours and mine would give us

control of the company. I would like to have you take them, though it

doesn't make a bit of difference so long as it's in the family. You

can put any one you please in for president, and we'll make the thing

come out right."

Lester smiled. It was a pleasant proposition. Watson had told him

that Robert's interests were co-operating with him. Lester had long

suspected that Robert would like to make up. This was the olive

branch--the control of a property worth in the neighborhood of a

million and a half.

"That's very nice of you," said Lester solemnly. "It's a rather

liberal thing to do. What makes you want to do it now?"

"Well, to tell you the honest truth, Lester," replied Robert, "I

never did feel right about that will business. I never did feel right

about that secretary-treasurership and some other things that have

happened. I don't want to rake up the past--you smile at

that--but I can't help telling you how I feel. I've been pretty

ambitious in the past. I was pretty ambitious just about the time that

father died to get this United Carriage scheme under way, and I was

afraid you might not like it. I have thought since that I ought not to

have done it, but I did. I suppose you're not anxious to hear any more

about that old affair. This other thing though--"

"Might be handed out as a sort of compensation," put in Lester

quietly.

"Not exactly that, Lester--though it may have something of

that in it. I know these things don't matter very much to you now. I

know that the time to do things was years ago--not now. Still I

thought sincerely that you might be interested in this proposition. It

might lead to other things. Frankly, I thought it might patch up

matters between us. We're brothers after all."

"Yes," said Lester, "we're brothers."

He was thinking as he said this of the irony of the situation. How

much had this sense of brotherhood been worth in the past? Robert had

practically forced him into his present relationship, and while Jennie

had been really the only one to suffer, he could not help feeling

angry. It was true that Robert had not cut him out of his one-fourth

of his father's estate, but certainly he had not helped him to get it,

and now Robert was thinking that this offer of his might mend things.

It hurt him--Lester--a little. It irritated him. Life was

strange.

"I can't see it, Robert," he said finally and determinedly. "I can

appreciate the motive that prompts you to make this offer. But I can't

see the wisdom of my taking it. Your opportunity is your opportunity.

I don't want it. We can make all the changes you suggest if you take

the stock. I'm rich enough anyhow. Bygones are bygones. I'm perfectly

willing to talk with you from time to time. That's all you want. This

other thing is simply a sop with which to plaster an old wound. You

want my friendship and so far as I'm concerned you have that. I don't

hold any grudge against you. I won't."

Robert looked at him fixedly. He half smiled. He admired Lester in

spite of all that he had done to him--in spite of all that Lester

was doing to him now.

"I don't know but what you're right, Lester," he admitted finally.

"I didn't make this offer in any petty spirit though. I wanted to

patch up this matter of feeling between us. I won't say anything more

about it. You're not coming down to Cincinnati soon, are you?"

"I don't expect to," replied Lester.

"If you do I'd like to have you come and stay with us. Bring your

wife. We could talk over old times."

Lester smiled an enigmatic smile.

"I'll be glad to," he said, without emotion. But he remembered that

in the days of Jennie it was different. They would never have receded

from their position regarding her. "Well," he thought, "perhaps I

can't blame them. Let it go."

They talked on about other things. Finally Lester remembered an

appointment. "I'll have to leave you soon," he said, looking at his

watch.

"I ought to go, too," said Robert. They rose. "Well, anyhow," he

added, as they walked toward the cloakroom, "we won't be absolute

strangers in the future, will we?"

"Certainly not," said Lester. "I'll see you from time to time."

They shook hands and separated amicably. There was a sense of

unsatisfied obligation and some remorse in Robert's mind as he saw his

brother walking briskly away. Lester was an able man. Why was it that

there was so much feeling between them--had been even before

Jennie had appeared? Then he remembered his old thoughts about "snaky

deeds." That was what his brother lacked, and that only. He was not

crafty; not darkly cruel, hence. "What a world!" he thought.

On his part Lester went away feeling a slight sense of opposition

to, but also of sympathy for, his brother. He was not so terribly

bad--not different from other men. Why criticize? What would he

have done if he had been in Robert's place? Robert was getting along.

So was he. He could see now how it all came about--why he had

been made the victim, why his brother had been made the keeper of the

great fortune. "It's the way the world runs," he thought. "What

difference does it make? I have enough to live on. Why not let it go

at that?"