The Stoic tod-3

by Theodore Dreiser

  Nonetheless, in spite of all their praises, Cowperwood’s mind was troubled by the somewhat complicated and ominous drift of all of his affairs at this time. For one thing, here was Berenice, his devoted love, risking so much for the rare opportunity of secretly visiting him at night, or in the early dawn, with the aid and connivance of Dr. James. And here again was Aileen—her lack of understanding of life in general, its inexplicable eccentricities and vagaries—also visiting him occasionally, unaware of the presence of Berenice in the hotel. He felt that he must try to live, and yet, in spite of his efforts, felt himself losing ground physically. So much so that one day when Dr. James was alone with him in his room, he began talking to him about it.

  “Jeff, I’ve been ill for about four weeks now, and I have the feeling that I am not getting any better.”

  “Now, Frank,” said James, quickly, “that’s not the right attitude to take. You must try to get well, and the chances are you will. Other cases as bad as yours have gotten better.”

  “I know that,” said Cowperwood to his friend, “and naturally you want to encourage me. But I still have the feeling that I am not going to recover. And in connection with this, I would like you to call Aileen and ask her to come here and talk over some estate matters with me. I’ve been thinking of this for some time, but now I feel I’d better not wait any longer.”

  “Just as you say, Frank,” said James. “But I do wish you would not decide that you are not going to get well. It isn’t good, you know. And besides, I think to the contrary. As a favor to me, you might try a little.”

  “I’ll try, Jeff, but please call Aileen, will you?”

  “Why certainly, Frank, but don’t talk too long, remember!”

  And James retired to his own room, where he called Aileen on the telephone and asked her to come over to see her husband.

  “Would you be good enough to come this afternoon, if possible, say around three o’clock?” he asked her.

  She hesitated for a moment, and then replied: “Why, yes, of course, Dr. James,” and accordingly at about the time agreed upon she came, disturbed and wondering and not a little sad.

  Upon seeing her, Cowperwood experienced a sense of weariness, such as for years he had often experienced in regard to her, not so much physical weariness as aesthetic weariness. She was so sadly lacking in that rare inner refinement that characterized a woman like Berenice. And yet, here she was, still his wife, and for the reason he felt that he owed her a reasonable degree of consideration in return for the kindness and affection which she had displayed at a time when he most needed them. And thus thinking, his mood softened somewhat toward her, and he reached out and took her hand as she greeted him.

  “How are you, Frank?” she asked.

  “Well, Aileen, I’ve been here four weeks now, and although the doctor thinks I am doing well enough, I realize that I am getting weaker all the time. And since there are a number of things I wanted to talk to you about, I thought I’d send for you. Is there anything you would like to tell me first about the house?”

  “Well, yes, a few things,” she said hesitantly. “But whatever they are, they can wait until you are better, don’t you think?”

  “But you see, Aileen, I don’t think I’m going to get any better. And that’s the reason I wanted to see you now, today,” said Cowperwood, softly.

  Aileen hesitated and did not answer.

  “You see, Aileen,” he continued, “the bulk of my estate is going to you, although I’ve taken care of some others in my will, such as my son and my daughter. But the great responsibility of the care of this estate is going to fall on you. It’s a large amount of money, and I want to know if you feel equal to the task; and if so, if you will faithfully carry out the instructions I have written out for you in my will.”

  “Oh, yes, Frank, I will do everything you say.”

  He sighed inwardly, and continued: “Although I have made a will which gives you full control, nevertheless, that is the very reason I feel the necessity of warning you of overconfidence in anyone; for the moment I am gone, I’m sure there will be any number of people who will come to you with this and that plan, to do something for this cause or the other, or this or that institution. I have tried to guard against that by instructing the executors to submit any plan they may have to you for your approval. You are to be the judge, and you must decide whether it is worthy or not. Dr. James, you know, is one of the executors, and he is the one on whose judgment I can rely. He is a man not only of great medical skill but goodness of heart and intention. I have told him that you may stand in need of advice, and he has promised me faithfully to advise you to the best of his knowledge and ability. I want to tell you that he is so honest a man that when I told him he was to be left a sum of money for his services to me, he refused to allow it, although he was willing to act as your adviser. So if ever you should find yourself troubled as to what to do, please go to him first and see what he thinks.”

  “Yes, Frank, I will do exactly as you say. If you believe in him, I certainly will also.”

  “Of course,” he continued, “there are specific provisions in my will to be taken care of after the beneficiaries are satisfied. One of these is the completion and preservation of my art gallery. I want the mansion kept intact as it now stands; that is, as a museum for the benefit of the public. And since I have left plenty of money for its upkeep, it will be your duty to see that it is maintained in the best possible state.

  “In fact, Aileen, I don’t know if you ever realized how much that place has meant to me. It has helped me to live through the endless practical problems to which I have had to devote myself. In building it and buying things for it, I have tried to bring into my life and yours the beauty which is entirely outside of cities and business.”

  And as Cowperwood talked on, Aileen at last realized to a degree, at least, and perhaps for the first time, what all this meant to him, and again she promised to do everything as he directed.

  “There’s another thing,” he went on, “and that is the hospital. You know I have wanted for a long time to build one. It doesn’t have to occupy an expensive site. A rather convenient Bronx location has been suggested in my will. Furthermore, it is to be for the poor—not for people with money who can afford to go elsewhere—and neither race, creed, nor color are to have anything to do with the right of admission.”

  She sat there silently while he paused for a moment.

  “There’s one more thing, Aileen. I haven’t mentioned it to you before, because I wasn’t certain how you would feel about it. I am having a tomb erected over in Greenwood Cemetery, and it’s very near completion: a beautiful copy of an ancient Greek design. It contains two bronze sarcophagi, one for me and one for you, if you choose to be buried there.”

  At this she stirred uneasily, for he seemed to be considering his prospective death as practically as he had taken his business affairs.

  “You say it is in Greenwood?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Cowperwood, solemnly.

  “And that it is already completed?”

  “So nearly completed that I could be buried there if I died within a short time.”

  “Certainly, Frank, you are the strangest of men! The idea of building your own tomb—and mine—and you aren’t certain at all that you’re going to die of this . . .”

  “But this tomb, Aileen, will last for a thousand years,” he said, with a slight lift in his voice. “And besides, we’re all going to die sometime, and you might as well rest there with me; that is, if you care to.”

  She remained silent.

  “Well, there it is,” he concluded, “and I feel it should be for the two of us, particularly since it has been built that way. However, if you feel you do not want to be there . . .”

  But here she interrupted him. “Oh, Frank, let’s not talk about that now. If you want me there, I’ll be there. You know that,” and a restrained sob manifested itself in her voice.

  However, at this point the
door opened and Dr. James came in to say that it was unwise for Cowperwood to talk any longer; she might come another day if she would call up beforehand. She got up from where she had been sitting beside his bed, and taking his hand, said: “I’ll come in again tomorrow, Frank, just for a little while, and if there is anything I can do, please have Dr. James call me. But you must get well, Frank. You must believe that you will. There is so much that you want to do. Try . . .”

  “Well, all right, dear, I will do my best,” he said, waving his hand and adding: “See you tomorrow.”

  She turned and passed out into the hall. Walking toward the elevators, sadly pondering on their conversation, she noticed a woman just stepping out of an elevator. She stared, and, to her astonishment, realized that the woman was Berenice. They both stood as if transfixed for a few seconds, after which Berenice crossed the hall and opened a door and disappeared down a stairway leading to the floor below. Aileen, still transfixed, turned, with seeming determination to re-enter Cowperwood’s suite, but instead suddenly turned in the opposite direction towards the elevators. But before going many steps, she stopped and stood still. Berenice! So here she was in New York, and obviously at Cowperwood’s request. Of course, at his request! And he pretending even now that he was dying! Would the man’s perfidy never reach a limit? Imagine him asking her to come tomorrow! And talking of the tomb in which she was to lie with him! With him! Well, this was the end! Never again would she see him in this world, if they called her as many as a thousand times a day! She would instruct her servants to ignore all calls from her husband or his accomplice, Dr. James, or any other person who pretended to represent them!

  As she entered the elevator, her mind was a mental storm center, a cyclone roaring with clashing waves of rage. She would tell the press about this scoundrel: his abuse and humiliation of a wife who had done so much for him! She would repay him yet!

  Outside the hotel, she hurried into a taxicab and stormily urged the driver to drive, just drive, the while she repeated to herself, like a rosary of trebled length, all of the ills which she could conjure, that might be and would be, if she could manage, heaped upon Cowperwood. And as she rode, the vibration of her rage traveled directly back to Berenice.

  Chapter 68

  Berenice, in the meantime, having reached her room, sat there woodenly, finding herself powerless to think, so filled with fear was she, for Cowperwood as well as herself. Aileen might have returned to his apartment, and how dreadful the effect of that on him at this time! It might actually bring about his death! And how terrible it was that she could not do anything for him! Finally, she thought of going to Dr. James and asking him how to defeat this vicious, merciless mood on the part of Aileen. But she was held back by the fear of again meeting her. Perhaps she was in the hall, or in Dr. James’ room! By degrees the situation became so unbearable to her that at last it produced a practical idea. She went to the telephone and called Dr. James, and, much to her relief, he answered.

  “Dr. James,” she began, shakily, “this is Berenice. I want to know if you won’t please be good enough to come to my room at once. Something dreadful has happened, and I am so unstrung and nervous I must talk to you!”

  “Why, certainly, Berenice. I will come at once,” he replied.

  Then she added, in a most unsteady voice: “If you should see Mrs. Cowperwood in the hall, please don’t allow her to follow you here.”

  But here her voice broke off, and James, sensing danger, hung the phone up hurriedly and, seizing his medical kit, went directly to her apartment and knocked at the door. Berenice responded by whispering from behind the door:

  “Are you alone, Doctor?”

  When he assured her he was alone, she opened the door and he stepped inside.

  “What is the matter, Berenice? What is all this?” he asked, almost brusquely, at the same time studying her white face. “Why are you so terrified?”

  “Oh, Doctor, I can’t tell you.” She was actually trembling with fear. “It’s Mrs. Cowperwood. I saw her here in the hall as I was coming in, and she saw me. Her expression was so savage that I am afraid for Frank. Do you know whether or not she has seen him since I left? I have the feeling that she might have returned to his apartment.”

  “Certainly, not,” said James. “I have just come from there. Frank is all right, quite safe. But here,” and taking a few small white pills from his medicine case, he handed her one. “Take this, and don’t say anything more for a few moments. It will quiet your nerves, and then you can tell me all about it.” And going toward a sofa, he motioned her to sit beside him. Gradually she showed signs of becoming more quiet. “Now, listen, Berenice,” he added, “I know that your situation here is a very difficult one. I have known it ever since you came here, but why are you so wrought up? Do you expect Mrs. Cowperwood to attack you personally?”

  “Oh, no, I am not worried about myself,” she replied, more calmly. “It’s Frank I’m really worried about. He is so ill and so weak and helpless at this time, and I’m afraid that she may say or do things that might hurt him so terribly he would not want to live. And, oh, he has been so liberal and so well-meaning toward her. And just now when he needs love, not hate, and after all he has done for her, she is ready to do I don’t know what—abuse him so violently that he may suffer a relapse. He’s told me many times that she always loses control of her emotions when she becomes jealous.”

  “Yes, I know,” said James. “He is a very great man, who has married the wrong woman, and to tell you the truth, I feared something of this kind. I thought it unwise for you to be in the same hotel. However, love is a powerful force, and I saw how deeply you cared for each other when I was in England. But I also knew, as did many people, that his relations with Mrs. Cowperwood were unsatisfactory to him. By the way, did you exchange any words with her?”

  “Oh, no,” replied Berenice. “I just saw her as I stepped out of the elevator, and her anger and opposition, as she recognized me, were so real that I felt it through my whole body. It came to me that she might do something desperate to both of us, if she could. Besides, I was afraid she might return to his apartment immediately.”

  At this point Dr. James advised Berenice to stay in her suite until this storm subsided, and to wait until she heard from him. Above all, as he instructed her, she was not to say a word to Cowperwood about this when she saw him again. He was far too ill to endure it. In the meantime, as he patiently explained, he would brave the anger of Mrs. Cowperwood and call her, to determine, if possible, what she might be doing or planning to say publicly. And then he left Berenice to go to his own room to think the matter over.

  However, before he had time to reach Aileen on the telephone, one of the nurses came into his room to ask if he would not please step in and look at Mr. Cowperwood; he seemed more restless than usual. When he did so, he found Cowperwood stirring around in his bed as though he were uncomfortable. And when he asked him how his visit with Aileen came out, he answered wearily:

  “Oh, everything worked out all right, I think. At least, I went over the most important points with her. But somehow, Jeff, I feel very tired and exhausted from our long conversation.”

  “Well, I expected that. Next time, don’t talk for such a long time. And now here is something for you to take. It will give you a little rest for the present.” And with that he handed Cowperwood a powder with a glass of water, which he swallowed as Dr. James added: “Well, that will do for now, and I’ll look in on you a little later this afternoon.”

  Whereupon he returned to his own room and called Aileen, who by that time had returned home. Upon hearing his name announced by her maid, she came directly to the phone. James, in his most courteous tone, told her he was calling to find out how her visit with her husband had worked out, and asked if there was anything he could do to help her.

  Her voice was angry and uncontrolled as she spoke.

  “Yes, Dr. James, you can help me very much by not calling me any more, if you please, for I’
ve just found out what has been going on all the time—in London and here—between my so-called husband and Miss Fleming. I know she has been living with him there and is now living with him under your eyes, and apparently with your aid and approval. And you want to know whether I had a satisfactory interview with him! And that woman hiding in the same hotel! It’s the most outrageous thing I ever heard of, and one which I’m sure the public will be glad to hear about! And it will, depend on that!” And then, her voice almost breaking with rage, she added: “You, a doctor! A man supposed to be concerned with the decencies of life . . .”

  Whereupon Dr. James, sensing the fierceness of her rage, managed to interrupt her sufficiently to say, forcefully but calmly:

  “Mrs. Cowperwood, I beg to take exception to your accusations. I was called in on this case in a professional capacity, not as a judge of situations which are none of my making. And you have no right to judge the motives of a man about whom you know as little as you do about me. Whether you believe it or not, your husband is a very sick man, very, and if you make the grave error of giving out any story to the press, you will be hurting yourself a thousand times more than you could ever hurt him, or anyone connected with him. For he not only has powerful friends, but admirers, as you know—friends who will deeply resent any such action as you propose, and who will not fail him. If he dies, as he well may . . . well, judge for yourself how any such public attack as you have in mind will be received.”