Jennie Gerhardt - Драйзер Теодор - Страница 9

It was a new note in their relationship. The senatorial quality vanished in an instant. She recognised in him something that she had not felt before.

He seemed younger, too. She was a woman to him, and he was playing

the part of a lover. She hesitated, but not knowing just 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 this great

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'd better be going."

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

"No," she said, moved by a curious feeling of ingratitude; "but I ought 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 ever shown before. It was a novel experience to be in so authoritative a

position. It was so remarkable that it was somewhat confusing to both of

them.

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

Jennie heard this, and it pleased her. He was so well fitted, she thought, to do wondrous things; he was nothing less than a veritable magician. She

looked about her, and the thought of coming into such a life and such an

atmosphere was heavenly. Not that she fully understood his meaning,

however. He meant to be good and generous, and to give her fine things.

Naturally she was happy. She took up the package that she had come for,

not seeing or feeling the incongruity of her position, while he felt it as a direct reproof.

"She ought not to carry that," he thought. A great wave of sympathy swept over him. He took her cheeks between his hands, this time in a

superior 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 relationship between

them. He did not hesitate to ask her to sit beside him on the arm of his

chair the next time she came, and to question her intimately about the

family's condition and her own desires. Several times he noticed that she was evading his questions, particularly in regard to what her father was

doing. She was ashamed to own that he was sawing wood. Fearing lest

something more serious was impending, he decided to go out some day

and see for himself.

This he did when a convenient morning presented itself and his other

duties did not press upon him. It was three days before the great fight in the Legislature began which ended in his defeat. Nothing could be done

in these few remaining days. So he took his cane and strolled forth,

coming to the cottage in the course of a half hour, and knocked boldly at the door.

Mrs. Gerhardt opened it.

"Good-morning," he said, cheerily; then, seeing her hesitate he added,

"May I come in?"

The good mother, who was all but overcome by his astonishing presence,

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, offering him a

chair, asked him to be seated.

Brander, feeling sorry that he was the occasion of so much confusion,

said: "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Gerhardt. I was passing and thought I'd come in. How is your husband?"

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

"Then he has found employment?"

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

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

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

"That's good, and where is Jennie!"

The latter, who had been ironing, had abandoned the board and had

concealed herself in the bedroom, where she was busy tidying herself in

the fear that her mother would not have the forethought to say that she

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. He felt

sorry to think that such deserving people must suffer so; he intended, in a vague way, to ameliorate their condition if possible.

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

Jennie came forward, extending her hand and blushing. She found herself

so much disturbed by this visit that she could hardly find tongue to

answer his questions.

"I thought," he said, "I'd come out and find where you live. This is 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 her when

she was at his room, and it helped to subdue her flustered senses.

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

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

While they were talking however, the honest wood-cutter was coming in

at the gate with his buck and saw. Brander saw him, and at once

recognised 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 the window

without looking up. He put his wooden buck down, and, hanging his saw

on a nail on the side of the house, came in.

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

Brander arose and extended his hand. The knotted and weather- beaten

German came forward, and took it with a very questioning expression of

countenance.

"This is my father, Mr. Brander," said Jennie, all her diffidence dissolved 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 me of you."

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

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

Mrs. Gerhardt now came back, and Gerhardt, seeing his chance, said

hurriedly:

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

"Certainly," said Brander, graciously, realising now why Jennie had never wanted to explain. He half wished that she were courageous enough not