Jennie Gerhardt: A Novel

  CHAPTER XIX

  The inconclusive nature of this interview, exciting as it was, didnot leave any doubt in either Lester Kane's or Jennie's mind;certainly this was not the end of the affair. Kane knew that he wasdeeply fascinated. This girl was lovely. She was sweeter than he hadhad any idea of. Her hesitancy, her repeated protests, her gentle "no,no, no" moved him as music might. Depend upon it, this girl was forhim, and he would get her. She was too sweet to let go. What did hecare about what his family or the world might think?

  It was curious that Kane held the well-founded idea that in timeJennie would yield to him physically, as she had already donespiritually. Just why he could not say. Something about her--awarm womanhood, a guileless expression of countenance--intimateda sympathy toward sex relationship which had nothing to do with hard,brutal immorality. She was the kind of a woman who was made for aman--one man. All her attitude toward sex was bound up with love,tenderness, service. When the one man arrived she would love him andshe would go to him. That was Jennie as Lester understood her. He feltit. She would yield to him because he was the one man.

  On Jennie's part there was a great sense of complication and ofpossible disaster. If he followed her of course he would learn all.She had not told him about Brander, because she was still under thevague illusion that, in the end, she might escape. When she left himshe knew that he would come back. She knew, in spite of herself thatshe wanted him to do so. Yet she felt that she must not yield, shemust go on leading her straitened, humdrum life. This was herpunishment for having made a mistake. She had made her bed, and shemust lie on it.

  The Kane family mansion at Cincinnati to which Lester returnedafter leaving Jennie was an imposing establishment, which contrastedstrangely with the Gerhardt home. It was a great, rambling, two-storyaffair, done after the manner of the French chateaux, but in red brickand brownstone. It was set down, among flowers and trees, in an almostpark-like inclosure, and its very stones spoke of a splendid dignityand of a refined luxury. Old Archibald Kane, the father, had amassed atremendous fortune, not by grabbing and brow-beating and unfairmethods, but by seeing a big need and filling it. Early in life he hadrealized that America was a growing country. There was going to be abig demand for vehicles--wagons, carriages, drays--and heknew that some one would have to supply them. Having founded a smallwagon industry, he had built it up into a great business; he made goodwagons, and he sold them at a good profit. It was his theory that mostmen were honest; he believed that at bottom they wanted honest things,and if you gave them these they would buy of you, and come back andbuy again and again, until you were an influential and rich man. Hebelieved in the measure "heaped full and running over." All throughhis life and now in his old age he enjoyed the respect and approval ofevery one who knew him. "Archibald Kane," you would hear hiscompetitors say, "Ah, there is a fine man. Shrewd, but honest. He's abig man."

  This man was the father of two sons and three daughters, allhealthy, all good-looking, all blessed with exceptional minds, butnone of them so generous and forceful as their long-living andbig-hearted sire. Robert, the eldest, a man forty years of age, washis father's right-hand man in financial matters, having a certainhard incisiveness which fitted him for the somewhat sordid details ofbusiness life. He was of medium height, of a rather spare build, witha high forehead, slightly inclined to baldness, bright, liquid-blueeyes, an eagle nose, and thin, firm, even lips. He was a man of fewwords, rather slow to action and of deep thought. He sat close to hisfather as vice-president of the big company which occupied two wholeblocks in an outlying section of the city. He was a strong man--acoming man, as his father well knew.

  Lester, the second boy, was his father's favorite. He was not byany means the financier that Robert was, but he had a larger vision ofthe subtleties that underlie life. He was softer, more human, moregood-natured about everything. And, strangely enough, old Archibaldadmired and trusted him. He knew he had the bigger vision. Perhaps heturned to Robert when it was a question of some intricate financialproblem, but Lester was the most loved as a son.

  Then there was Amy, thirty-two years of age, married, handsome, themother of one child--a boy; Imogene, twenty-eight, also married,but as yet without children, and Louise, twenty-five, single, thebest-looking of the girls, but also the coldest and most critical. Shewas the most eager of all for social distinction, the most vigorous ofall in her love of family prestige, the most desirous that the Kanefamily should outshine every other. She was proud to think that thefamily was so well placed socially, and carried herself with an airand a hauteur which was sometimes amusing, sometimes irritating toLester! He liked her--in a way she was his favoritesister--but he thought she might take herself with a little lessseriousness and not do the family standing any harm.

  Mrs. Kane, the mother, was a quiet, refined woman, sixty years ofage, who, having come up from comparative poverty with her husband,cared but little for social life. But she loved her children and herhusband, and was naively proud of their position and attainments. Itwas enough for her to shine only in their reflected glory. A goodwoman, a good wife, and a good mother.

  Lester arrived at Cincinnati early in the evening, and drove atonce to his home. An old Irish servitor met him at the door.

  "Ah, Mr. Lester," he began, joyously, "sure I'm glad to see youback. I'll take your coat. Yes, yes, it's been fine weather we'rehaving. Yes, yes, the family's all well. Sure your sister Amy is justafter leavin' the house with the boy. Your mother's up-stairs in herroom. Yes, yes."

  Lester smiled cheerily and went up to his mother's room. In this,which was done in white and gold and overlooked the garden to thesouth and east, sat Mrs. Kane, a subdued, graceful, quiet woman, withsmoothly laid gray hair. She looked up when the door opened, laid downthe volume that she had been reading, and rose to greet him.

  "There you are, Mother," he said, putting his arms around her andkissing her. "How are you?"

  "Oh, I'm just about the same, Lester. How have you been?"

  "Fine. I was up with the Bracebridges for a few days again. I hadto stop off in Cleveland to see Parsons. They all asked afteryou."

  "How is Minnie?"

  "Just the same. She doesn't change any that I can see. She's justas interested in entertaining as she ever was."

  "She's a bright girl," remarked his mother, recalling Mrs.Bracebridge as a girl in Cincinnati. "I always liked her. She's sosensible."

  "She hasn't lost any of that, I can tell you," replied Lestersignificantly. Mrs. Kane smiled and went on to speak of various familyhappenings. Imogene's husband was leaving for St. Louis on someerrand. Robert's wife was sick with a cold. Old Zwingle, the yardwatchman at the factory, who had been with Mr. Kane for over fortyyears, had died. Her husband was going to the funeral. Lester listeneddutifully, albeit a trifle absently.

  Lester, as he walked down the hall, encountered Louise. "Smart" wasthe word for her. She was dressed in a beaded black silk dress,fitting close to her form, with a burst of rubies at her throat whichcontrasted effectively with her dark complexion and black hair. Hereyes were black and piercing.

  "Oh, there you are, Lester," she exclaimed. "When did you get in?Be careful how you kiss me. I'm going out, and I'm all fixed, even tothe powder on my nose. Oh, you bear!" Lester had gripped her firmlyand kissed her soundly. She pushed him away with her strong hands.

  "I didn't brush much of it off," he said. "You can always dust moreon with that puff of yours." He passed on to his own room to dress fordinner. Dressing for dinner was a custom that had been adopted by theKane family in the last few years. Guests had become so common that ina way it was a necessity, and Louise, in particular, made a point ofit. To-night Robert was coming, and a Mr. and Mrs. Burnett, oldfriends of his father and mother, and so, of course, the meal would bea formal one. Lester knew that his father was around somewhere, but hedid not trouble to look him up now. He was thinking of his last twodays in Cleveland and wondering when he would see Jennie again.