第 三十五 章 · In the meantime Jennie had been going through a moral crisis of her

own. For the first time in her life, aside from the family attitude,

which had afflicted her greatly, she realized what the world thought

of her. She was bad--she knew that. She had yielded on two

occasions to the force of circumstances which might have been fought

out differently. If only she had had more courage! If she did not

always have this haunting sense of fear! If she could only make up her

mind to do the right thing! Lester would never marry her. Why should

he? She loved him, but she could leave him, and it would be better for

him. Probably her father would live with her if she went back to

Cleveland. He would honor her for at last taking a decent stand. Yet

the thought of leaving Lester was a terrible one to her--he had

been so good. As for her father, she was not sure whether he would

receive her or not.

After the tragic visit of Louise she began to think of saving a

little money, laying it aside as best she could from her allowance.

Lester was generous and she had been able to send home regularly

fifteen dollars a week to maintain the family--as much as they

had lived on before, without any help from the outside. She spent

twenty dollars to maintain the table, for Lester required the best of

everything--fruits, meats, desserts, liquors, and what not. The

rent was fifty-five dollars, with clothes and extras a varying sum.

Lester gave her fifty dollars a week, but somehow it had all gone. She

thought how she might economize but this seemed wrong.

Better go without taking anything, if she were going, was the

thought that came to her. It was the only decent thing to do.

She thought over this week after week, after the advent of Louise,

trying to nerve herself to the point where she could speak or act.

Lester was consistently generous and kind, but she felt at times that

he himself might wish it. He was thoughtful, abstracted. Since the

scene with Louise it seemed to her that he had been a little

different. If she could only say to him that she was not satisfied

with the way she was living, and then leave. But he himself had

plainly indicated after his discovery of Vesta that her feelings on

that score could not matter so very much to him, since he thought the

presence of the child would definitely interfere with his ever

marrying her. It was her presence he wanted on another basis. And he

was so forceful, she could not argue with him very well. She decided

if she went it would be best to write a letter and tell him why. Then

maybe when he knew how she felt he would forgive her and think nothing

more about it.

The condition of the Gerhardt family was not improving. Since

Jennie had left Martha had married. After several years of teaching in

the public schools of Cleveland she had met a young architect, and

they were united after a short engagement. Martha had been always a

little ashamed of her family, and now, when this new life dawned, she

was anxious to keep the connection as slight as possible. She barely

notified the members of the family of the approaching

marriage--Jennie not at all--and to the actual ceremony she

invited only Bass and George. Gerhardt, Veronica, and William resented

the slight. Gerhardt ventured upon no comment. He had had too many

rebuffs. But Veronica was angry. She hoped that life would give her an

opportunity to pay her sister off. William, of course, did not mind

particularly. He was interested in the possibilities of becoming an

electrical engineer, a career which one of his school-teachers had

pointed out to him as being attractive and promising.

Jennie heard of Martha's marriage after it was all over, a note

from Veronica giving her the main details. She was glad from one point

of view, but realized that her brothers and sisters were drifting away

from her.

A little while after Martha's marriage Veronica and William went to

reside with George, a break which was brought about by the attitude of

Gerhardt himself. Ever since his wife's death and the departure of the

other children he had been subject to moods of profound gloom, from

which he was not easily aroused. Life, it seemed, was drawing to a

close for him, although he was only sixty-five years of age. The

earthly ambitions he had once cherished were gone forever. He saw

Sebastian, Martha, and George out in the world practically ignoring

him, contributing nothing at all to a home which should never have

taken a dollar from Jennie. Veronica and William were restless. They

objected to leaving school and going to work, apparently preferring to

live on money which Gerhardt had long since concluded was not being

come by honestly. He was now pretty well satisfied as to the true

relations of Jennie and Lester. At first he had believed them to be

married, but the way Lester had neglected Jennie for long periods, the

humbleness with which she ran at his beck and call, her fear of

telling him about Vesta--somehow it all pointed to the same

thing. She had not been married at home. Gerhardt had never had sight

of her marriage certificate. Since she was away she might have been

married, but he did not believe it.

The real trouble was that Gerhardt had grown intensely morose and

crotchety, and it was becoming impossible for young people to live

with him. Veronica and William felt it. They resented the way in which

he took charge of the expenditures after Martha left. He accused them

of spending too much on clothes and amusements, he insisted that a

smaller house should be taken, and he regularly sequestered a part of

the money which Jennie sent, for what purpose they could hardly guess.

As a matter of fact, Gerhardt was saving as much as possible in order

to repay Jennie eventually. He thought it was sinful to go on in this

way, and this was his one method, out side of his meager earnings, to

redeem himself. If his other children had acted rightly by him he felt

that he would not now be left in his old age the recipient of charity

from one, who, despite her other good qualities, was certainly not

leading a righteous life. So they quarreled.

It ended one winter month when George agreed to receive his

complaining brother and sister on condition that they should get

something to do. Gerhardt was nonplussed for a moment, but invited

them to take the furniture and go their way. His generosity shamed

them for the moment; they even tentatively invited him to come and

live with them, but this he would not do. He would ask the foreman of

the mill he watched for the privilege of sleeping in some

out-of-the-way garret. He was always liked and trusted. And this would

save him a little money.

So in a fit of pique he did this, and there was seen the spectacle

of an old man watching through a dreary season of nights, in a lonely

trafficless neighborhood while the city pursued its gaiety elsewhere.

He had a wee small corner in the topmost loft of a warehouse away from

the tear and grind of the factory proper. Here Gerhardt slept by day.

In the afternoon he would take a little walk, strolling toward the

business center, or out along the banks of the Cuyahoga, or the lake.

As a rule his hands were below his back, his brow bent in meditation.

He would even talk to himself a little--an occasional "By chops!"

or "So it is" being indicative of his dreary mood. At dusk he would

return, taking his stand at the lonely gate which was his post of

duty. His meals he secured at a nearby workingmen's boarding-house,

such as he felt he must have.

The nature of the old German's reflections at this time were of a

peculiarly subtle and somber character. What was this

thing--life? What did it all come to after the struggle, and the

worry, and the grieving? Where does it all go to? People die; you hear

nothing more from them. His wife, now, she had gone. Where had her

spirit taken its flight?

Yet he continued to hold some strongly dogmatic convictions. He

believed there was a hell, and that people who sinned would go there.

How about Mrs. Gerhardt? How about Jennie? He believed that both had

sinned woefully. He believed that the just would be rewarded in

heaven. But who were the just? Mrs. Gerhardt had not had a bad heart.

Jennie was the soul of generosity. Take his son Sebastian. Sebastian

was a good boy, but he was cold, and certainly indifferent to his

father. Take Martha--she was ambitious, but obviously selfish.

Somehow the children, outside of Jennie, seemed self-centered. Bass

walked off when he got married, and did nothing more for anybody.

Martha insisted that she needed all she made to live on. George had

contributed for a little while, but had finally refused to help out.

Veronica and William had been content to live on Jennie's money so

long as he would allow it, and yet they knew it was not right. His

very existence, was it not a commentary on the selfishness of his

children? And he was getting so old. He shook his head. Mystery of

mysteries. Life was truly strange, and dark, and uncertain. Still he

did not want to go and live with any of his children. Actually they

were not worthy of him--none but Jennie, and she was not good. So

he grieved.

This woeful condition of affairs was not made known to Jennie for

some time. She had been sending her letters to Martha, but, on her

leaving, Jennie had been writing directly to Gerhardt. After

Veronica's departure Gerhardt wrote to Jennie saying that there was no

need of sending any more money. Veronica and William were going to

live with George. He himself had a good place in a factory, and would

live there a little while. He returned her a moderate sum that he had

saved--one hundred and fifteen dollars--with the word that

he would not need it.

Jennie did not understand, but as the others did not write, she was

not sure but what it might be all right--her father was so

determined. But by degrees, however, a sense of what it really must

mean overtook her--a sense of something wrong, and she worried,

hesitating between leaving Lester and going to see about her father,

whether she left him or not. Would he come with her? Not here

certainly. If she were married, yes, possibly. If she were

alone--probably. Yet if she did not get some work which paid well

they would have a difficult time. It was the same old problem. What

could she do? Nevertheless, she decided to act. If she could get five

or six dollars a week they could live. This hundred and fifteen

dollars which Gerhardt had saved would tide them over the worst

difficulties perhaps.