Bab Bab 16 · During the remainder of Gerhardt's stay he was shy in Jennie's

presence and endeavored to act as though he were unconscious of her

existence. When the time came for parting he even went away without

bidding her good-by, telling his wife she might do that for him; but

after he was actually on his way back to Youngstown he regretted the

omission. "I might have bade her good-by," he thought to himself as

the train rumbled heavily along. But it was too late.

For the time being the affairs of the Gerhardt family drifted.

Jennie continued her work with Mrs. Bracebridge. Sebastian fixed

himself firmly in his clerkship in the cigar store. George was

promoted to the noble sum of three dollars, and then three-fifty. It

was a narrow, humdrum life the family led. Coal, groceries, shoes, and

clothing were the uppermost topics of their conversation; every one

felt the stress and strain of trying to make ends meet.

That which worried Jennie most, and there were many things which

weighed upon her sensitive soul, was the outcome of her own

life--not so much for herself as for her baby and the family. She

could not really see where she fitted in. "Who would have me?" she

asked herself over and over. "How was she to dispose of Vesta in the

event of a new love affair?" Such a contingency was quite possible.

She was young, good-looking, and men were inclined to flirt with her,

or rather to attempt it. The Bracebridges entertained many masculine

guests, and some of them had made unpleasant overtures to her.

"My dear, you're a very pretty girl," said one old rake of

fifty-odd when she knocked at his door one morning to give him a

message from his hostess.

"I beg your pardon," she said, confusedly, and colored.

"Indeed, you're quite sweet. And you needn't beg my pardon. I'd

like to talk to you some time."

He attempted to chuck her under the chin, but Jennie hurried away.

She would have reported the matter to her mistress but a nervous shame

deterred her. "Why would men always be doing this?" she thought. Could

it be because there was something innately bad about her, an inward

corruption that attracted its like?

It is a curious characteristic of the non-defensive disposition

that it is like a honey-jar to flies. Nothing is brought to it and

much is taken away. Around a soft, yielding, unselfish disposition men

swarm naturally. They sense this generosity, this non-protective

attitude from afar. A girl like Jennie is like a comfortable fire to

the average masculine mind; they gravitate to it, seek its sympathy,

yearn to possess it. Hence she was annoyed by many unwelcome

attentions.

One day there arrived from Cincinnati a certain Lester Kane, the

son of a wholesale carriage builder of great trade distinction in that

city and elsewhere throughout the country, who was wont to visit this

house frequently in a social way. He was a friend of Mrs. Bracebridge

more than of her husband, for the former had been raised in Cincinnati

and as a girl had visited at his father's house. She knew his mother,

his brother and sisters and to all intents and purposes socially had

always been considered one of the family.

"Lester's coming to-morrow, Henry," Jennie heard Mrs. Bracebridge

tell her husband. "I had a wire from him this noon. He's such a scamp.

I'm going to give him the big east front room up-stairs. Be sociable

and pay him some attention. His father was so good to me."

"I know it," said her husband calmly. "I like Lester. He's the

biggest one in that family. But he's too indifferent. He doesn't care

enough."

"I know; but he's so nice. I do think he's one of the nicest men I

ever knew."

"I'll be decent to him. Don't I always do pretty well by your

people?"

"Yes, pretty well."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he replied, dryly.

When this notable person arrived Jennie was prepared to see some

one of more than ordinary importance, and she was not disappointed.

There came into the reception-hall to greet her mistress a man of

perhaps thirty-six years of age, above the medium in height,

clear-eyed, firm-jawed, athletic, direct, and vigorous. He had a deep,

resonant voice that carried clearly everywhere; people somehow used to

stop and listen whether they knew him or not. He was simple and abrupt

in his speech.

"Oh, there you are," he began. "I'm glad to see you again. How's

Mr. Bracebridge? How's Fannie?"

He asked his questions forcefully, whole-heartedly, and his hostess

answered with an equal warmth. "I'm glad to see you, Lester," she

said. "George will take your things up-stairs. Come up into my room.

It's more comfy. How are grandpa and Louise?"

He followed her up the stairs, and Jennie, who had been standing at

the head of the stairs listening, felt the magnetic charm of his

personality. It seemed, why she could hardly say, that a real

personage had arrived. The house was cheerier. The attitude of her

mistress was much more complaisant. Everybody seemed to feel that

something must be done for this man.

Jennie went about her work, but the impression persisted; his name

ran in her mind. Lester Kane. And he was from Cincinnati. She looked

at him now and then on the sly, and felt, for the first time in her

life, an interest in a man on his own account. He was so big, so

handsome, so forceful. She wondered what his business was. At the same

time she felt a little dread of him. Once she caught him looking at

her with a steady, incisive stare. She quailed inwardly, and took the

first opportunity to get out of his presence. Another time he tried to

address a few remarks to her, but she pretended that her duties called

her away. She knew that often his eyes were on her when her back was

turned, and it made her nervous. She wanted to run away from him,

although there was no very definite reason why she should do so.

As a matter of fact, this man, so superior to Jennie in wealth,

education, and social position, felt an instinctive interest in her

unusual personality. Like the others, he was attracted by the peculiar

softness of her disposition and her pre-eminent femininity. There was

that about her which suggested the luxury of love. He felt as if

somehow she could be reached why, he could not have said. She did not

bear any outward marks of her previous experience. There were no

evidences of coquetry about her, but still he "felt that he might." He

was inclined to make the venture on his first visit, but business

called him away; he left after four days and was absent from Cleveland

for three weeks. Jennie thought he was gone for good, and she

experienced a queer sense of relief as well as of regret. Then,

suddenly, he returned. He came apparently unexpectedly, explaining to

Mrs. Bracebridge that business interests again demanded his presence

in Cleveland. As he spoke he looked at Jennie sharply, and she felt as

if somehow his presence might also concern her a little.

On this second visit she had various opportunities of seeing him,

at breakfast, where she sometimes served, at dinner, when she could

see the guests at the table from the parlor or sitting-room, and at

odd times when he came to Mrs. Bracebridge's boudoir to talk things

over. They were very friendly.

"Why don't you settle down, Lester, and get married?" Jennie heard

her say to him the second day he was there. "You know it's time."

"I know," he replied, "but I'm in no mood for that. I want to

browse around a little while yet."

"Yes, I know about your browsing. You ought to be ashamed of

yourself. Your father is really worried."

He chuckled amusedly. "Father doesn't worry much about me. He has

got all he can attend to to look after the business."

Jennie looked at him curiously. She scarcely understood what she

was thinking, but this man drew her. If she had realized in what way

she would have fled his presence then and there.

Now he was more insistent in his observation of her--addressed

an occasional remark to her--engaged her in brief, magnetic

conversations. She could not help answering him--he was pleasing

to her. Once he came across her in the hall on the second floor

searching in a locker for some linen. They were all alone, Mrs.

Bracebridge having gone out to do some morning shopping and the other

servants being below stairs. On this occasion he made short work of

the business. He approached her in a commanding, unhesitating, and

thoroughly determined way.

"I want to talk to you," he said. "Where do you live?"

"I--I--" she stammered, and blanched perceptibly. "I live

out on Lorrie Street."

"What number?" he questioned, as though she were compelled to tell

him.

She quailed and shook inwardly. "Thirteen fourteen," she replied

mechanically.

He looked into her big, soft-blue eyes with his dark, vigorous

brown ones. A flash that was hypnotic, significant, insistent passed

between them.

"You belong to me," he said. "I've been looking for you. When can I

see you?"

"Oh, you mustn't," she said, her fingers going nervously to her

lips. "I can't see you--I--I--"

"Oh, I mustn't, mustn't I? Look here"--he took her arm and

drew her slightly closer--"you and I might as well understand

each other right now. I like you. Do you like me? Say?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, filled with wonder, with fear,

with a growing terror.

"I don't know," she gasped, her lips dry.

"Do you?" He fixed her grimly, firmly with his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Look at me," he said.

"Yes," she replied.

He pulled her to him quickly. "I'll talk to you later," he said,

and put his lips masterfully to hers.

She was horrified, stunned, like a bird in the grasp of a cat; but

through it all something tremendously vital and insistent was speaking

to her. He released her with a short laugh. "We won't do any more of

this here, but, remember, you belong to me," he said, as he turned and

walked nonchalantly down the hall. Jennie, in sheer panic, ran to her

mistress's room and locked the door behind her.