The Stoic tod-3

by Theodore Dreiser

  “And I wouldn’t worry about anything, Hattie, if I were you. Bevy and I understand each other perfectly. And I think she understands herself. She is brilliant and beautiful, and I love her. If any trouble comes, I think we can manage it. Try and have a good time. I’m likely to be very busy and so not able to see as much of you as I would like, but I’ll be on guard. And so will she. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh, I haven’t been worrying, Frank,” she said, almost apologetically. “Of course, I know how resourceful and determined Bevy is, and how much you have her interests at heart. And I do hope things go the way you want them. She’s just the person for you, Frank; so gifted and charming. I wish you could have seen her on the boat, how cleverly she managed to meet and entertain people. And yet, how she made them keep their place, too. Are you staying a while now? I’m glad. I’m slightly indisposed myself, but I’ll see you later, I hope.”

  She walked to the door with him, her manner that of a hostess entertaining a distinguished guest, as indeed she felt him to be. Once he had gone, and the door was closed, she went over to her mirror, and after gazing into it quite mournfully and dabbing her cheeks with a little rouge—in case Berenice should come in—she took out a brandy bottle which she kept in a locked traveling bag, and poured herself a small drink.

  Chapter 25

  The following week end found both of the Cowperwoods in the midst of an interesting group as Lord Haddonfield’s guests at Beriton Manor. This was, in truth, a distinguished pile of sixteenth century English architecture, at the southeast corner of Hardown Heath, and the center of a well-preserved patrimony. Approaching it from the northwest was the bleak, almost sea-like heath itself, with its rolling green expanses which remained, after hundreds of years, historically defiant of the plow, the sower, and the builder. Its chief value, to the rich as well as the poor, was the free range it provided for the hare, the deer, and other game, and the hunting parties, with their mounts and hounds and red-coated riders. To the southwest, in which direction the manor faced, were wooded slopes and fields, in the center of which lay Little Beriton, a small thatched market town, giving the impression of a hospitable countryside.

  Haddonfield, who met the Cowperwoods at Beriton Station, was the same sophisticated, cheerful individual of five years before. Because of pleasant memories, he was delighted to see them, and while showing the really impressive lawns and courtyards, he remarked to Aileen: “I’ve been thinking, Mrs. Cowperwood, the heath is likely to prove a sober outlook for you and your husband. So I’m giving you rooms overlooking the garden. There’s tea now in the drawing room, if you’re tired after the journey.”

  In spite of her splendid mansion and many servants in New York, and the really much inferior wealth of this man, Aileen, for the moment, at least, was convinced that this was much more desirable. Oh, to have such a place as this, with the social security and connections of this man! Not to have to struggle any more. Forever to be at peace. On the other hand, while Cowperwood’s mood welcomed a scene such as this, he was not overawed or even impressed by either title or unearned increment. He had created wealth and fame for himself.

  The guests of Lord Haddonfield for this week end were varied, but distinguished. From London, the day before, had come Sir Charles Stoneledge, an actor of position and fame in the London theatrical world, but a stagey and affected individual who seized every opportunity to visit aristocratic friends or acquaintances. He had brought with him Miss Constance Hathaway, an actress then playing in the popular success, Sentiment.

  By way of contrast, there were Lord and Lady Ettinge, he rather prominent in railway and shipping interests—a large, florid, dictatorial man, inclined to drink heavily and, when sufficiently in his cups, genial in a limited way. When cold sober, he was given to sharp obiter dicta rather than to facile argument. Lady Ettinge, on the other hand, was extremely diplomatic, and on this occasion had been invited by Lord Haddonfield to act as hostess. Well aware of her husband’s moods and habits, and bearing with them tolerantly, she in no way submerged her own personality. She was tall and heavily built, blue veined, red cheeked, and having rather hard blue eyes. Once she had been as fair and engaging as any lovely maid of sixteen, and remembered it well, as did Ettinge. He had courted her earnestly. She had a better sense of proportion than her husband. He, being one of a long line and inheriting wealth, was inclined to give weight and precedence to primogeniture rather than to immediate achievement, even though he himself was active enough commercially. His wife, however, though as wellborn as himself, was more interested and aware of the changing forces of the day, and inclined to admire such untitled giants as Cowperwood.

  Also present were Lord and Lady Bosvike, both young and smart and very popular. They were clever at all sports, enjoyed gambling and the races, and were valuable in any gathering because of their enthusiasm and gaiety. Secretly they laughed at Ettinge and his wife, though at the same time they valued their position and liberately set themselves out to be agreeable to them.

  A really important guest—decidedly so in the eyes of Haddonfield and Ettinge—was Abington Scarr. A man of rather dubious origin—no title, no family—nevertheless he was making quite a financial stir at this time. For one thing, in the past four years, he had been successful in organizing a cattle-raising company in Brazil. The profits from this were already yielding his investors a handsome return. He was now interested in sheep-raising in Africa, where, by reason of almost unheard-of concessions from the government and the methods he had devised for reducing costs and finding markets, he was looked upon as one who might shortly come to be a millionaire. The shrewdest criticism of his ventures on the part of those who were inclined to doubt had not yet developed anything seriously inimical to his claims. Haddonfield, as well as Ettinge, was impressed by his success, but at the same time both were wary of following him. They did speculate in some of his shares but jumped in and out quickly. One thing that Scarr was seeking to promote at this time—but with less success than in the case of most of his earlier ventures—was the Baker Street & Waterloo Line, a new London underground, for which he had secured a franchise from Parliament. And it was in connection with this that the unexpected appearance of Cowperwood interested him.

  Because of Aileen’s determination to make an elaborate toilet, the Cowperwoods were late in coming down to dinner. When they entered the drawing room, most of the other guests had assembled and were somewhat annoyed at having to wait. Ettinge, in particular, had decided to pay no great attention to the Cowperwoods. But when they appeared, and Haddonfield called out a hearty welcome, the others turned at once, resumed their amiability and took an unaffected interest in the Americans. Ettinge, slouching to a standing position and bowing stiffly as he was introduced, nevertheless studied Cowperwood intently. And Lady Ettinge, who had been following the recent English comments on his affairs, decided at once that, her husband excepted, Cowperwood was the leading personality at this gathering. Instinctively, she forgave him for Aileen, judging that he had married young and later philosophically decided to make the best of an unfortunate union. As for Scarr, he was intelligent enough to realize that he was in the presence of a master in his own world.

  A little ill at ease after her long period of neglect in New York, Aileen did her best to appear natural, yet succeeded only in being overcordial and almost eager, as she smiled at everyone. She made remarks which established in the minds of all that she was quite uncertain of herself. Cowperwood noted it, but decided that, after all, he could manage for her. And, with his usual diplomacy, he addressed himself to Lady Ettinge as the oldest and, plainly, the most significant woman guest.

  “I am rather new to English country life,” he said, quite simply, “but I must say, even the little glimpse I’ve had of it this afternoon quite justifies the admiration which is bestowed upon it.”

  “Indeed!” said Lady Ettinge, a little curious as to his tastes and temperament. “You find it as engaging as all that?”

  “Yes, and
I think I can explain why. It is the source of what at present is best in my own country.” He emphasized the words “at present,” as she noted. “The culture of Italy,” he went on, “we can appreciate as that of a people entirely different from us; and the same, I think, is true of France and Germany. But here we recognize naturally, and with sympathy, the sources of our own culture and development, even those of us who are not wholly of English extraction.”

  “You sound almost too kind to England,” said Lady Ettinge. “Are you of English descent?”

  “Yes, my parents were Quakers. I was brought up in full knowledge of the simplicity of the English Quakers.”

  “Not all Americans, I fear, are so cordial.”

  “Mr. Cowperwood can speak with knowledge of any country,” said Lord Haddonfield, drawing near, “for he has spent a fortune and a great many years in assembling the art of all of them.”

  “My collection is very modest,” said Cowperwood. “I look upon it merely as a beginning.”

  “And this art collection is housed in one of the most beautiful museums I have ever visited,” continued Lord Haddonfield, addressing Lady Ettinge. “It is in Mr. Cowperwood’s home in New York.”

  “I had the pleasure of hearing a discussion of your collection when I was last in New York, Mr. Cowperwood,” interjected Stoneledge. “Is it true that you are here to add to it? I believe I read something of the sort the other day.”

  “Unfounded rumour,” replied Cowperwood. “I am not collecting anything at the moment but impressions. I’m merely on my way to the Continent.”

  Pleased beyond words at the triumph which he appeared to be achieving, Aileen was extremely gay throughout dinner, so much so that Cowperwood, from time to time, cast a questioning glance in her direction, as he was especially eager to make a favorable impression. He knew, of course, about the financial interests of Haddonfield and Ettinge, and now here was Scarr, who, he had heard, was seeking to promote an underground. Concerning Lord Ettinge, he was interested to find out what he could about his influence and connections, and in that direction he was not unsuccessful, for Lady Ettinge spoke to him frankly of her husband’s political interests. He was a Tory, and in close touch with the leaders of the Tory party, and was being considered at the present time for an important Indian appointment. It all depended on certain political eventualities bound up in the Boer War, then shaking England. So far, the losses had been almost continuous. But the tendency of the present company was to minimize that unfortunate fact, and Cowperwood, for diplomatic reasons, took the same attitude.

  Throughout the dinner, chatting lightly enough with the other guests, he was asking himself who, of all these, could be of use to himself as well as Berenice. Lady Bosvike invited him to her lodge in Scotland. Scarr, after the ladies left the table, was the first to draw near and ask him if he were to be long in England. If so, he would like him to visit his place in Wales. Even Ettinge had, by this time, unbent sufficiently to discuss matters American and international.

  And this relation was strengthened on Monday, when there was a shooting party, and Cowperwood was seen to be not without skill. In fact, by the time the Cowperwoods prepared to leave, he had won the admiration of all Haddonfield’s guests, if the same could not wholly be said of Aileen.

  Chapter 26

  Calling at Berenice’s apartment on his return from Beriton Manor, Cowperwood found her preparing for an inspection trip to one of the cottages suggested by Colonel Hawkesberry as a desirable summer residence for her and her mother. It was, she said, situated on the Thames, between Maidenhead and Marlow.

  “And who do you think is the owner?” she asked him, with a suggestion of mystery and surprise.

  “Not the slightest idea, unless I try to read your mind.”

  “Then try.”

  “Not me! Too difficult. Who is it?”

  “None other than that English lord your Mr. Sippens wrote you about, unless there are two lords of the same name. Lord Stane.”

  “Not really?” said Cowperwood, surprised by the coincidence. “Tell me about it. Have you met him?”

  “No. But Colonel Hawkesberry is most enthusiastic about the place, says it’s just near enough to London. And then, too, he and his sistah ah theyah!” She mimicked the absent Hawkesberry.

  “Such being the case, I think we might very well look at it,” concluded Cowperwood, at the same time noting with admiration her attractive costume: long skirt and tight jacket of Lincoln green, the jacket trimmed with gold braid and a gold belt. A small green hat, flaunting a single red feather, was perched on the side of her head.

  “I’d like to meet Stane,” continued Cowperwood, “and this may be a way to do it. But caution is the word here, Bevy. I understand he is wealthy, and very influential. If we could interest him on our own terms . . .” He paused.

  “Just what I’ve been thinking,” she said. “So why not come along with me now to see it? Mother is tired today and is staying home.”

  Her manner, as usual, was light, evasive, bantering, the way which most pleased Cowperwood, since it so wholly reflected her natural strength, resourcefulness, and optimism under any and all circumstances.

  “The pleasure of chaperoning this costume, apart from anything else, is enough!” said Cowperwood.

  “Of course,” continued Berenice, “I’ve explained to everyone that it is only with the consent of my guardian that I can make any decisions. Are you prepared to assume your duties?” she queried, with the sauciest of glances.

  He walked over to her and took her in his arms.

  “It’s all new to me, of course, but I’ll try.”

  “Well, anyway,” said Berenice, “I’m making it easy for you. I’ve consulted a renting agent, and he will meet us at Windsor. After that I thought we might find a nice little old inn for tea.”

  “Righto! as we say over here. But first, a word with your mother.” And he hurried into Mrs. Carter’s room.

  “Well, Hattie,” he greeted her. “How’s everything? How are you making out in dear old England?”

  In contrast with Berenice’s gaiety, her mother looked not only depressed but a little worn. It had all been so swift, this brilliant and colorful descent from her fool’s paradise of social security to this wealth of adventure, which, however lavish its accoutrements, was nevertheless frightening because of lurking danger ahead. This perplexing business of living! True, she had bred a gifted and self-sufficient daughter, but one as headstrong and lawless as herself. And one whose fate, for that reason, could not accurately be predicted. And although Cowperwood had always been and was now content to fortify them with the enormous resources of his mind and his wealth, yet she was fearful. The fact that he had brought them to England at a time when he was so openly courting public favor, and with Aileen in the immediate foreground, puzzled her. According to Berenice, this course was necessary, even if not entirely acceptable.

  But this explanation did not entirely convince her. She had lived and lost, and the ghost that was tracking her was the fear that Berenice would also lose. For there was Aileen, and the fickleness of Cowperwood, and the relentless world, sparing no one, forgiving no one. It was something of all this that was in her mood, her eyes, and her relaxed figure. Unknown to Berenice, she had returned to drinking, and, but a moment or two before Cowperwood entered, had drained a large glass of brandy in order to brace herself for this certain encounter.

  In answer to his greeting, she said: “Oh, I like England very much. Bevy is fascinated by everything here. I suppose you’re going out to look at those cottages. It’s just a question of the number of people you expect to entertain, or, rather, whom not to entertain, with you two together.”

  “I think you’re speaking for Bevy, not me. She seems to be the magnet. But you look a little down, Hattie. What’s the matter?” He eyed her questioningly, but not unsympathetically. “Come, come, don’t let these first days get on your nerves! I know it’s all a little difficult. You’ve had a trying trip,
and you’re tired.” He crossed over to her and laid a friendly hand on her shoulder, but in doing so caught the odor of brandy. “Listen, Hattie,” he said, “you and I have known each other for a long time. You know that although I’ve always been infatuated with Bevy, I never indulged in so much as a single gesture that could compromise her in any way, before she came to me in Chicago. Is that true, or isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Frank, it’s true.”

  “You know, my one desire, since I felt I could not have her, was to place her socially, get her married and off your hands before anything could go wrong.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Of course, what happened in Chicago is to be charged to me, but even that not entirely, for she came to me at a time when I was very much in need of her. Otherwise, I think I might have resisted her even then. Anyway, we’re all in this boat together now, to sink or swim. You look on this adventure over here as hopeless. I can see that. I don’t. Remember, Bevy is a very brilliant and resourceful girl. And this is England, not the United States. People over here make way for intelligence and beauty in a way that has never yet been dreamed of at home. If you will only brace up and play your part, everything will be all right.”

  Once more he patted her shoulder, looking down into her eyes to note the effect of his words.

  “You know I’ll do my best, Frank,” she said.

  “Well, there’s one thing you must not do, Hattie, and that’s to take up drinking. You know your weakness. And if Bevy finds it out, it might discourage her and undo everything we are trying to do.”