Jennie Gerhardt: A Novel

  CHAPTER IV

  The desire to flee which Jennie experienced upon seeing the Senatoragain was attributable to what she considered the disgrace of herposition. She was ashamed to think that he, who thought so well ofher, should discover her doing so common a thing. Girl-like, she wasinclined to imagine that his interest in her depended upon somethingelse than her mere personality.

  When she reached home Mrs. Gerhardt had heard of her flight fromthe other children.

  "What was the matter with you, anyhow?" asked George, when she camein.

  "Oh, nothing," she answered, but immediately turned to her motherand said, "Mr. Brander came by and saw us."

  "Oh, did he?" softly exclaimed her mother. "He's back then. Whatmade you run, though, you foolish girl?"

  "Well, I didn't want him to see me."

  "Well, maybe he didn't know you, anyhow," she said, with a certainsympathy for her daughter's predicament.

  "Oh yes, he did, too," whispered Jennie. "He called after me threeor four times."

  Mrs. Gerhardt shook her head.

  "What is it?" said Gerhardt, who had been hearing the conversationfrom the adjoining room, and now came out.

  "Oh, nothing," said the mother, who hated to explain thesignificance which the Senator's personality had come to have in theirlives. "A man frightened them when they were bringing the coal."

  The arrival of the Christmas presents later in the evening threwthe household into an uproar of excitement. Neither Gerhardt nor themother could believe their eyes when a grocery wagon halted in frontof their cottage and a lusty clerk began to carry in the gifts. Afterfailing to persuade the clerk that he had made a mistake, the largeassortment of good things was looked over with very human glee.

  "Just you never mind," was the clerk's authoritative words. "I knowwhat I'm about. Gerhardt, isn't it? Well, you're the people."

  Mrs. Gerhardt moved about, rubbing her hands in her excitement, andgiving vent to an occasional "Well, isn't that nice now!"

  Gerhardt himself was melted at the thought of the generosity of theunknown benefactor, and was inclined to lay it all to the goodness ofa great local mill owner, who knew him and wished him well. Mrs.Gerhardt tearfully suspected the source, but said nothing. Jennieknew, by instinct, the author of it all.

  The afternoon of the day after Christmas Brander encountered themother in the hotel, Jennie having been left at home to look after thehouse.

  "How do you do, Mrs. Gerhardt," he exclaimed genially extending hishand. "How did you enjoy your Christmas?"

  Poor Mrs. Gerhardt took it nervously; her eyes filled rapidly withtears.

  "There, there," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Don't cry.You mustn't forget to get my laundry to-day."

  "Oh no, sir," she returned, and would have said more had he notwalked away.

  From this on, Gerhardt heard continually of the fine Senator at thehotel, how pleasant he was, and how much he paid for his washing. Withthe simplicity of a German workingman, he was easily persuaded thatMr. Brander must be a very great and a very good man.

  Jennie, whose feelings needed no encouragement in this direction,was more than ever prejudiced in his favor.

  There was developing in her that perfection of womanhood, the fullmold of form, which could not help but attract any man. Already shewas well built, and tall for a girl. Had she been dressed in thetrailing skirts of a woman of fashion she would have made a fittingcompanion for a man the height of the Senator. Her eyes werewondrously clear and bright, her skin fair, and her teeth white andeven. She was clever, too, in a sensible way, and by no meansdeficient in observation. All that she lacked was training and theassurance of which the knowledge of utter dependency despoils one. Butthe carrying of washing and the compulsion to acknowledge almostanything as a favor put her at a disadvantage.

  Nowadays when she came to the hotel upon her semi-weekly errandSenator Brander took her presence with easy grace, and to this sheresponded. He often gave her little presents for herself, or for herbrothers and sisters, and he talked to her so unaffectedly thatfinally the overawing sense of the great difference between them wasbrushed away, and she looked upon him more as a generous friend thanas a distinguished Senator. He asked her once how she would like to goto a seminary, thinking all the while how attractive she would be whenshe came out. Finally, one evening, he called her to his side.

  "Come over here, Jennie," he said, "and stand by me."

  She came, and, moved by a sudden impulse, he took her hand.

  "Well, Jennie," he said, studying her face in a quizzical,interrogative way, "what do you think of me, anyhow?"

  "Oh," she answered, looking consciously away, "I don't know. Whatmakes you ask me that?"

  "Oh yes, you do," he returned. "You have some opinion of me. Tellme now, what is it?"

  "No, I haven't," she said, innocently.

  "Oh yes, you have," he went on, pleasantly, interested by hertransparent evasiveness. "You must think something of me. Now, what isit?"

  "Do you mean do I like you?" she asked, frankly, looking down atthe big mop of black hair well streaked with gray which hung about hisforehead, and gave an almost lionine cast to his fine face.

  "Well, yes," he said, with a sense of disappointment. She wasbarren of the art of the coquette.

  "Why, of course I like you," she replied, prettily.

  "Haven't you ever thought anything else about me?" he went on.

  "I think you're very kind," she went on, even more bashfully; sherealized now that he was still holding her hand.

  "Is that all?" he asked.

  "Well," she said, with fluttering eyelids, "isn't that enough?"

  He looked at her, and the playful, companionable directness of heranswering gaze thrilled him through and through. He studied her facein silence while she turned and twisted, feeling, but scarcelyunderstanding, the deep import of his scrutiny.

  "Well," he said at last, "I think you're a fine girl. Don't youthink I'm a pretty nice man?"

  "Yes," said Jennie, promptly.

  He leaned back in his chair and laughed at the unconscious drolleryof her reply. She looked at him curiously, and smiled.

  "What made you laugh?" she inquired.

  "Oh, your answer" he returned. "I really ought not to laugh,though. You don't appreciate me in the least. I don't believe you likeme at all."

  "But I do, though," she replied, earnestly. "I think you're sogood." Her eyes showed very plainly that she felt what she wassaying.

  "Well," he said, drawing her gently down to him; then, at the sameinstant, he pressed his lips to her cheek.

  "Oh!" she cried, straightening up, at once startled andfrightened.

  It was a new note in their relationship. The senatorial qualityvanished in an instant. She recognized in him something that she hadnot felt before. He seemed younger, too. She was a woman to him, andhe was playing the part of a lover. She hesitated, but not knowingjust what to do, did nothing at all.

  "Well," he said, "did I frighten you?"

  She looked at him, but moved by her underlying respect for thisgreat man, she said, with a smile, "Yes, you did."

  "I did it because I like you so much."

  She meditated upon this a moment, and then said, "I think I'dbetter be going."

  "Now then," he pleaded, "are you going to run away because ofthat?"

  "No," she said, moved by a curious feeling of ingratitude; "but Iought to be going. They'll be wondering where I am."

  "You're sure you're not angry about it?"

  "No," she replied, and with more of a womanly air than she had evershown before. It was a novel experience to be in so authoritative aposition. It was so remarkable that it was somewhat confusing to bothof them.

  "You're my girl, anyhow," the Senator said, rising. "I'm going totake care of you in the future."

  Jennie heard this, and it pleased her. He was so well fitted, shethought, to do wondrous things; he was nothing less than a veritablemagician. She looked about her and the
thought of coming into such alife and such an atmosphere was heavenly. Not that she fullyunderstood his meaning, however. He meant to be good and generous, andto give her fine things. Naturally she was happy. She took up thepackage that she had come for, not seeing or feeling the incongruityof her position, while he felt it as a direct reproof.

  "She ought not to carry that," he thought. A great wave of sympathyswept over him. He took her cheeks between his hands, this time in asuperior and more generous way. "Never mind, little girl," he said."You won't have to do this always. I'll see what I can do."

  The outcome of this was simply a more sympathetic relationshipbetween them. He did not hesitate to ask her to sit beside him on thearm of his chair the next time she came, and to question herintimately about the family's condition and her own desires. Severaltimes he noticed that she was evading his questions, particularly inregard to what her father was doing. She was ashamed to own that hewas sawing wood. Fearing lest something more serious was impending, hedecided to go out some day and see for himself.

  This he did when a convenient morning presented itself and hisother duties did not press upon him. It was three days before thegreat fight in the Legislature began which ended in his defeat.Nothing could be done in these few remaining days. So he took his caneand strolled forth, coming to the cottage in the course of a halfhour, and knocked boldly at the door.

  Mrs. Gerhardt opened it.

  "Good-morning," he said, cheerily; then, seeing her hesitate, headded, "May I come in?"

  The good mother, who was all but overcome by his astonishingpresence, wiped her hands furtively upon her much-mended apron, and,seeing that he waited for a reply, said:

  "Oh yes. Come right in."

  She hurried forward, forgetting to close the door, and, offeringhim a chair, asked him to be seated.

  Brander, feeling sorry that he was the occasion of so muchconfusion, said: "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Gerhardt. I was passingand thought I'd come in. How is your husband?"

  "He's well, thank you," returned the mother. "He's out workingto-day."

  "Then he has found employment?"

  "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Gerhardt, who hesitated, like Jennie, to saywhat it was.

  "The children are all well now, and in school, I hope?"

  "Yes," replied Mrs. Gerhardt. She had now unfastened her apron, andwas nervously turning it in her lap.

  "That's good, and where is Jennie?"

  The latter, who had been ironing, had abandoned the board and hadconcealed herself in the bedroom, where she was busy tidying herselfin the fear that her mother would not have the forethought to say thatshe was out, and so let her have a chance for escape.

  "She's here," returned the mother. "I'll call her."

  "What did you tell him I was here for?" said Jennie, weakly.

  "What could I do?" asked the mother.

  Together they hesitated while the Senator surveyed the room. Hefelt sorry to think that such deserving people must suffer so; heintended, in a vague way, to ameliorate their condition ifpossible.

  "Good-morning," the Senator said to Jennie, when finally she camehesitatingly into the room. "How do you do to-day?"

  Jennie came forward, extending her hand and blushing. She foundherself so much disturbed by this visit that she could hardly findtongue to answer his questions.

  "I thought," he said, "I'd come out and find where you live. Thisis a quite comfortable house. How many rooms have you?"

  "Five," said Jennie. "You'll have to excuse the looks this morning.We've been ironing, and it's all upset."

  "I know," said Brander, gently. "Don't you think I understand,Jennie? You mustn't feel nervous about me."

  She noticed the comforting, personal tone he always used with herwhen she was at his room, and it helped to subdue her flusteredsenses.

  "You mustn't think it anything if I come here occasionally. Iintend to come. I want to meet your father."

  "Oh," said Jennie, "he's out to-day."

  While they were talking, however, the honest woodcutter was comingin at the gate with his buck and saw. Brander saw him, and at oncerecognized him by a slight resemblance to his daughter.

  "There he is now, I believe," he said.

  "Oh, is he?" said Jennie, looking out.

  Gerhardt, who was given to speculation these days, passed by thewindow without looking up. He put his wooden buck down, and, hanginghis saw on a nail on the side of the house, came in.

  "Mother," he called, in German, and, then not seeing her, he cameto the door of the front room and looked in.

  Brander arose and extended his hand. The knotted and weather-beatenGerman came forward, and took it with a very questioning expression ofcountenance.

  "This is my father, Mr. Brander," said Jennie, all her diffidencedissolved by sympathy. "This is the gentleman from the hotel, papa,Mr. Brander."

  "What's the name?" said the German, turning his head.

  "Brander," said the Senator.

  "Oh yes," he said, with a considerable German accent.

  "Since I had the fever I don't hear good. My wife, she spoke to meof you."

  "Yes," said the Senator, "I thought I'd come out and make youracquaintance. You have quite a family."

  "Yes," said the father, who was conscious of his very poor garmentsand anxious to get away. "I have six children--all young. She'sthe oldest girl."

  Mrs. Gerhardt now came back, and Gerhardt, seeing his chance, saidhurriedly:

  "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go. I broke my saw, and so I hadto stop work."

  "Certainly," said Brander, graciously, realizing now why Jennie hadnever wanted to explain. He half wished that she were courageousenough not to conceal anything.

  "Well, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said, when the mother was stiffly seated,"I want to tell you that you mustn't look on me as a stranger.Hereafter I want you to keep me informed of how things are going withyou. Jennie won't always do it."

  Jennie smiled quietly. Mrs. Gerhardt only rubbed her hands.

  "Yes," she answered, humbly grateful.

  They talked for a few minutes, and then the Senator rose.

  "Tell your husband," he said, "to come and see me next Monday at myoffice in the hotel. I want to do something for him."

  "Thank you," faltered Mrs. Gerhardt.

  "I'll not stay any longer now," he added. "Don't forget to have himcome."

  "Oh, he'll come," she returned.

  Adjusting a glove on one hand, he extended the other to Jennie.

  "Here is your finest treasure, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said. "I thinkI'll take her."

  "Well, I don't know," said her mother, "whether I could spare heror not."

  "Well," said the Senator, going toward the door, and giving Mrs.Gerhardt his hand, "good-morning."

  He nodded and walked out, while a half-dozen neighbors, who hadobserved his entrance, peeked from behind curtains and drawn blinds atthe astonishing sight.

  "Who can that be, anyhow?" was the general query.

  "See what he gave me," said the innocent mother to her daughter themoment he had closed the door.

  It was a ten-dollar bill. He had placed it softly in her hand as hesaid good-by.