All of this caused him to realize that while there was more interest in him as a public figure than had ever previously been manifested, as yet there was no trace of scandal in connection with him. Accordingly, he was more inclined to answer the questions, at least as many as it was diplomatically possible for him to answer without injury to himself.
According to him, everything was progressing smoothly in London. In fact, he was justifiably proud, since he expected to have the London Underground electrified and in operation by January of 1905. Also, it would have an $85,000,000 capital and one hundred and forty miles of track. And it was also true that he was now building the largest electrical power plant in the world, and when it was completed London would have the finest underground in the world. As to the English, he now asserted that he considered their attitude toward large business projects, such as his, superior to the American attitude; that is, the English appeared to understand the importance of a great constructive program, and when they granted a franchise, it was not for a limited time, but granted in perpetuity, which gave men with large creative purposes an opportunity to build things lasting.
As to paintings, yes, he had purchased several since being in New York last, and those he was bringing back with him, a Watteau, a Sir Joshua Reynolds (portrait of Lady O’Brien), and a Frans Hals. And yes, he had paid the artist in question $30,000 for his portrait when he needed to give him $20,000 only. But the artist had returned the $10,000 to him with the request that he contribute the sum to a charity—which caused a gasp of surprise from the reporters.
The significance of such data as this, blazoned as it was in all of the newspapers, did not fail to impress Aileen, who, under another name, had arrived only two days before. Notwithstanding her anger, she was moved to meditate on the wisdom of her original plan. What was to become of these paintings that he was purchasing? For she recalled that recently he had spoken of the possibility of enlarging the New York Mansion with a view to housing additional art objects. If so, her exposure of him and a threatened divorce suit might force him to change his plans in favor of one other than herself: the same dilemma which some years before she had faced and lost.
But, accepting her threat at its face value, Cowperwood thought it best, during his stay in New York, to make his headquarters at the Waldorf-Astoria instead of the Fifth Avenue residence, and having once settled there, he took up the matter of trying to reach Aileen by telephone, with no success. For she had made up her mind not to allow him to come and discuss his, to her, seemingly inexcusable crime, and she had even gone so far as to request a New York lawyer to call on her. Yet reading the papers, which continued to report his doings, evoked in her, from hour to hour, a change of emotions. For, naturally, she was proud of his success, and yet she was jealous, because she was satisfied that somewhere, lurking in the background, was one of his mistresses—Berenice, no doubt—who was undoubtedly sharing this most iridescent period of his life. For Aileen loved show and glitter. At times she was almost childishly arrested by any startling phase of publicity concerning Cowperwood, good, bad, or indifferent. In fact, one newspaper picture of the immense electrical plant he was building in London so fascinated her as to make her almost forget her ills. On the other hand, when he was savagely attacked in one newspaper article, she could not help resenting it, at the same time that she was moved to attack him herself.
After contemplating the immense variety of opinions and applause which greeted his return, Aileen’s rage became confused with a certain degree of admiration, at which point in her oscillating moods it was that Cowperwood calmly walked into the living room of her suite to find her lying on a chaise longue, the floor about her littered with newspapers which she had obviously been reading. She jumped to her feet on his entrance, trying to arouse in herself her treasured anger as he stood facing her.
“Well, I see you keep up with the news, don’t you, dear?” he commented, smiling a broad, free smile. “It isn’t bad, is it?”
“You!” she almost screamed. “The effrontery! If they only knew you as I do! The hypocrisy of it all! The cruelty!”
“Now, listen, Aileen,” he went on, as calmly as he could, “you know, if you stop to think about it, I haven’t injured you in any way. If you’ve read any of these papers, you know I’ve been working almost twenty-four hours a day on this proposition ever since I went to London. As for this man, Tollifer, what better guide could a person have in a city like Paris? If I remember correctly, in the old days you never passed through that city with me without complaining bitterly because I couldn’t spend all my time with you visiting places you considered interesting but which I had no time for. And so, when Tollifer showed up, and was going to Paris anyhow, I thought, since you appeared to like him, that your going there at the same time might give you the opportunity of satisfying your old desire to see Paris without having me about to interfere in any way. And that’s the only reason for Tollifer, and you know it!”
“Lies, lies, lies!” cried Aileen, savagely. “Always lies! But this time they won’t work. At least, I can let the world know what you really are, and how you’ve treated me. The articles about you will read a little differently then, you can bet!”
“Now, Aileen,” he interrupted, “just be reasonable. You know that from a material point of view I have never deprived you of anything you wanted, and all along I have been counting on you to take charge of my affairs after I’m gone. This house here, of which you certainly are proud. As you know, I’ve been planning to add to it in a way that will make it even more beautiful. For some time now I’ve wanted to buy the house next door, in order to enlarge the palm room for you and make an additional gallery for pictures and statuary. I was intending to leave it all in your hands, to express yourself as you pleased.”
But true to his natural secretiveness, he failed to state that before leaving London he had already purchased the house in question.
“Why not get Pyne and let him submit some plans,” he continued, “and we’ll look them over.”
“Oh, yes,” said Aileen, wistfully, “that would be interesting.”
But Cowperwood did not hesitate. “As for my life being separate from yours, Aileen, that’s a ridiculous idea, really. In the first place, we’ve been too long together, and although we have had our troubles, here we are. Outside of my work, which makes strenuous demands on me physically, my personal life is nothing. Besides, I am no longer young, and if you care to make friends with me again, once I get this London underground off my hands, I’ll really be glad to return to New York and live with you here.”
“Do you mean me with six others?” she asked, sarcastically.
“No, I mean just what I said. I should think you could see that I may have to retire some day. If so, it will be for peace and quiet, and not more work.”
Aileen was now getting ready to make an additional ironic comment, but looking up at him she caught a particularly weary and almost depressed look on his face, a look such as never she had previously seen, and this caused her mood to alter from one of criticism to one of unexpected sympathy. Perhaps he was tired and needed rest, for he was getting along in years and had so much to do: one of the kindest thoughts she had experienced in connection with him for years.
At this point, however, her maid came in to tell her that Mr. Robertson, her lawyer, was on the telephone, at which she stirred uneasily, and then said, rather defiantly:
“Tell him I’ve gone out!”
The import of this was not lost on Cowperwood.
“Have you said anything to anybody about all this?” he asked her.
“No, I have not,” she replied.
“Good!” said Cowperwood, genially.
And after explaining that various financial matters made it necessary for him to go to Chicago for a few days, he succeeded in extracting from her a promise not to do anything until he returned. For by that time, as he now argued, he thought they could work things out to their mutual satisfaction.
&nbs
p; Since she seemed satisfied to let the matter rest for the present, he took out his watch and remarked that he had just enough time to catch the train; he would see her again on his return. And, calmed down considerably by this time, she accompanied him to the door, and then returned to consult the newspapers which previously she had been reading.
Chapter 55
The visit to Chicago was important enough, involving, as it did, negotiations for a loan or investment of $5,000,000. And then there was Sippens to see for a report as to the gradual disposal of his real estate holdings.
Another matter that required his attention was a recent lawsuit against one of the large traction companies of Chicago, which, several years before, had taken over two of the elevated lines which Cowperwood had originally built and operated. However, once he had withdrawn from Chicago and gone to London, these lines, due to poor management, had not only lost the income that previously had flowed from an excellent public patronage, but had since been confronted by a tremendous deficit that had wiped out all interest on stocks still held by investors. In fact, it was locally asserted that nothing in the history of public service corporations had shown such an utter collapse as this particular traction company. And since this loss was blamed on Cowperwood, it had become necessary for him to make clear to investors that the fault was not his, that it was due to mismanagement by those who had taken over the property: a clarification that later caused him to be called a “financial wizard” instead of a “sharper,” because at the time he had operated the lines it was a well-known fact that he paid an 8 to 12 per cent dividend on stocks in his company. So now, in addition to securing the $5,000,000 he had come to borrow, he left with his reputation greatly enhanced.
However, there was one unexpected incident in connection with this Chicago trip, and that was the reappearance of Lorna Maris, who, because of newspaper notices of his presence in the city, sought him out in the hope of reviving his interest in her. But this thought of hers was doomed to disappointment, because his mood had changed for the time being, and he was anxious to get back to New York, and, eventually, to Berenice. Noticing, however, that her clothes reflected a less successful state of affairs than when he had last seen her, he was moved to inquire into her life, and finding that her popular appeal had shrunk and her income also, he did pretend an interest in her welfare, and assured her that he would arrange a stable drawing account for her, and furthermore would see what he could do toward interesting a theatrical producer in her career: a series of favors which effectively rekindled her original courage and gaiety.
But once he was aboard the train and it had begun to move past Lorna as she stood on the platform waving a final and wistful farewell, he could not help thinking on the changeful crisscross pattern woven by all creatures and forces. For here he was, being attacked by these Chicago stockholders and at the same time watched by the daily press, as well as Aileen in New York, and, for that matter, the beautiful Berenice in London, who, reasonably enough, did not trust him any more than did Aileen. And yet, for what reason? Emotions, sensual predilections, reactions to other types of human beings, which were not of his invention or creation.
Clack, clack, clack! went the wheels on the rails. Too-hooo! Too-hooo! the whistle of the engine. And a level landscape flowing, not unlike time, past the window through which he gazed, reflecting dreamily on life, time and change.
Chapter 56
When Cowperwood went to see Aileen in New York on his return, he met with a pleasant surprise, for since he had been away she had been thinking about the value of his suggestions in regard to possible enlargement of the house, and his expressed desire to consider her taste in regard to the alterations. This had pleased her beyond anything he could have said. Consequently, she brought forth several drawings, designs, and color arrangements which already she had had prepared by the architect and now wished him to examine.
He was pleased to see that Raymond Pyne, the American architect who had designed this mansion in the first place, had produced a series of sketches of proposed changes which harmonized the old house with the new. Aileen emphasized the fact that she liked this, that, and the other phase of artistic interpretation. And deciding that he would see Pyne and advise him to take his time in the matter, he finally left her with the feeling that she was to be importantly employed in connection with something that would not only reflect their joint artistic tastes but might well bring about their social reunion.
Nevertheless, adjusting himself to New York and America at this time was not an easy matter for Cowperwood. His social viewpoint, since going to London, had changed. It was not that the English were less shrewd or sharp in their efforts to advance their own interests. But, as he had noticed since encountering Stane, Johnson, and their associates, there was an almost unconscious consideration of the need of interweaving rest or pleasure with their commerce and trade, whereas here at home, business was business, as the phrase ran.
Ever since his arrival in New York there had been nothing but business dealings. There seemed to him nothing else interesting to do here, and it was because of this that his mind was constantly returning to Berenice and Pryor’s Cove, although he still found it necessary to visit all of the cities he had listed as sources for capital—hurried trips all over the east that left him feeling more or less exhausted. For the first time in his life he began to think rather than feel that he might be getting old. Satisfactorily enough, however, this situation was finally relieved by the arrival of an urgent cable from Johnson, which said that owing to the activity of various pressure groups, his presence was of paramount import.
He showed the cable to Aileen, and after she had read it she commented on the weariness which showed in his face and warned him to remember that his health, after all, was of prime importance, and, if possible, he ought to wind up his European affairs and retire. He replied that he had already been thinking of that, and in order to make it easier for her in his absence had appointed Mr. Cuthbert to take charge of his entire art collection, because he was one in whose judgment he had confidence.
In the meantime, Berenice was beginning to wonder when he would return. She was finding herself, as time went on, more and more lonely without him. Although Lord Stane had taken her to various receptions and evening parties to meet more of his friends, and even to a reception at Court, she missed Cowperwood in some strange, inexplicable way. He was such a dominant force in her life, a power that dwarfed the social atmosphere surrounding Lord Stane. For while she found Stane a warm and attractive companion, on returning to the quiet of Pryor’s Cove she always joined Cowperwood again in thought and mood as well as emotion. What was he doing, whom seeing? Would he become interested again in Lorna Maris? Or someone new? Or would he return to her as he had left her: obviously in love with her? And would Aileen return with him, or had he placated her sufficiently to cause her to give him a period of rest?
The jealousy of women! Her own jealousy, where he was concerned!
And after all he had done for her! Not only for her but for her mother! It was he who had paid for her schooling, and after that had given her a beautiful New York house on fashionable Park Avenue.
Mentally and philosophically, Berenice was more of a cold, realistic turn than otherwise, and just before Cowperwood had been compelled by Aileen’s threats to return to New York, she had about made up her mind that if no too great ill flowed to herself from this last assault of Aileen’s, she might be more gracious to Lord Stane than up to now she had been. For plainly, he was deeply infatuated with her; he had even led her to believe that he was entertaining the thought of marriage.
If I only cared enough, she thought at this time. If only he was less conventional, not so English. She had heard that there was no law in England to prevent him from divorcing a wife who had deceived him by fraud—such as she would be guilty of if she married him—and this possibility, throughout Cowperwood’s absence, kept her silent and semidistant, thinking of her social state in case Aileen sho
uld choose to act.
However, her anxiety was gradually relieved by the day to day silence on the part of the London press, and also by a letter from Cowperwood in which he outlined his various difficulties, among them his sudden reduction in health and strength, and at the same time expressed his desire to return to England in order that he might rest and see her again. This reference to his health caused her to ponder on the wisdom of a trip they might take to some region of quiet and beauty which should be comparatively free of the hustle and bustle of trade. But where was such a land? It was possible that he had already seen and wearied of it, for he had traveled so much—Italy, Greece, Switzerland, France, Austria-Hungary, Germany, Turkey, the Holy Land.
But what of Norway? As she now recalled, she had never heard him speak of it. And accordingly, so moved was she by the desire to persuade him to take a rest in a strange and different land that she purchased a book about that country in order to inform herself in detail as to its novelty and beauty. Enthusiastically she turned the pages to study photographs of dark, high cliffs; mountains or fjells rising perpendicularly to thousands of feet over gorges cut by Nature in a stern, relentless mood; cataracts and leaping waterfalls, at the base of which lay beautiful, peaceful lakes. And clinging to the sides of tall mountains, like shipwrecked sailors to a life raft, were little farms. She read about their strange gods: Odin, the god of battle; Thor, the god of thunder; and, Valhalla, a heaven of sorts prepared for the souls of those who had perished in battle.
Reading and examining these pictures, the country appeared to be entirely free of industrialism. This land should indeed prove restful for him.
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