CHAPTER X
The world into which Jennie was thus unduly thrust forth was thatin which virtue has always vainly struggled since time immemorial; forvirtue is the wishing well and the doing well unto others. Virtue isthat quality of generosity which offers itself willingly for another'sservice, and, being this, it is held by society to be nearlyworthless. Sell yourself cheaply and you shall be used lightly andtrampled under foot. Hold yourself dearly, however unworthily, and youwill be respected. Society, in the mass, lacks woefully in the matterof discrimination. Its one criterion is the opinion of others. Its onetest that of self-preservation. Has he preserved his fortune? Has shepreserved her purity? Only in rare instances and with rare individualsdoes there seem to be any guiding light from within.
Jennie had not sought to hold herself dear. Innate feeling in hermade for self-sacrifice. She could not be readily corrupted by theworld's selfish lessons on how to preserve oneself from the evil tocome.
It is in such supreme moments that growth is greatest. It comes aswith a vast surge, this feeling of strength and sufficiency. We maystill tremble, the fear of doing wretchedly may linger, but we grow.Flashes of inspiration come to guide the soul. In nature there is nooutside. When we are cast from a group or a condition we have stillthe companionship of all that is. Nature is not ungenerous. Its windsand stars are fellows with you. Let the soul be but gentle andreceptive, and this vast truth will come home--not in setphrases, perhaps, but as a feeling, a comfort, which, after all, isthe last essence of knowledge. In the universe peace is wisdom.
Jennie had hardly turned from the door when she was overtaken byBass. "Give me your grip," he said; and then seeing that she was dumbwith unutterable feeling, he added, "I think I know where I can getyou a room."
He led the way to the southern part of the city, where they werenot known, and up to the door of an old lady whose parlor clock hadbeen recently purchased from the instalment firm by whom he was nowemployed. She was not well off, he knew, and had a room to rent.
"Is that room of yours still vacant?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, looking at Jennie.
"I wish you'd let my sister have it. We're moving away, and shecan't go yet."
The old lady expressed her willingness, and Jennie was soontemporarily installed.
"Don't worry now," said Bass, who felt rather sorry for her."This'll blow over. Ma said I should tell you not to worry. Come upto-morrow when he's gone."
Jennie said she would, and, after giving her further oralencouragement, he arranged with the old lady about board, and took hisleave.
"It's all right now," he said encouragingly as he went out. "You'llcome out all right. Don't worry. I've got to go back, but I'll comearound in the morning."
He went away, and the bitter stress of it blew lightly over hishead, for he was thinking that Jennie had made a mistake. This wasshown by the manner in which he had asked her questions as they hadwalked together, and that in the face of her sad and doubtfulmood.
"What'd you want to do that for?" and "Didn't you ever think whatyou were doing?" he persisted.
"Please don't ask me to-night," Jennie had said, which put an endto the sharpest form of his queries. She had no excuse to offer and nocomplaint to make. If any blame attached, very likely it was hers. Hisown misfortune and the family's and her sacrifice were alikeforgotten.
Left alone in her strange abode, Jennie gave way to her saddenedfeelings. The shock and shame of being banished from her home overcameher, and she wept. Although of a naturally long-suffering anduncomplaining disposition, the catastrophic wind-up of all her hopeswas too much for her. What was this element in life that could seizeand overwhelm one as does a great wind? Why this sudden intrusion ofdeath to shatter all that had seemed most promising in life?
As she thought over the past, a very clear recollection of thedetails of her long relationship with Brander came back to her, andfor all her suffering she could only feel a loving affection for him.After all, he had not deliberately willed her any harm. His kindness,his generosity--these things had been real. He had beenessentially a good man, and she was sorry--more for his sake thanfor her own that his end had been so untimely.
These cogitations, while not at all reassuring, at least served topass the night away, and the next morning Bass stopped on his way towork to say that Mrs. Gerhardt wished her to come home that sameevening. Gerhardt would not be present, and they could talk it over.She spent the day lonesomely enough, but when night fell her spiritsbrightened, and at a quarter of eight she set out.
There was not much of comforting news to tell her. Gerhardt wasstill in a direfully angry and outraged mood. He had already decidedto throw up his place on the following Saturday and go to Youngstown.Any place was better than Columbus after this; he could never expectto hold up his head here again. Its memories were odious. He would goaway now, and if he succeeded in finding work the family shouldfollow, a decision which meant the abandoning of the little home. Hewas not going to try to meet the mortgage on the house--he couldnot hope to.
At the end of the week Gerhardt took his leave, Jennie returnedhome, and for a time at least there was a restoration of the oldorder, a condition which, of course, could not endure.
Bass saw it. Jennie's trouble and its possible consequences weighedupon him disagreeably. Columbus was no place to stay. Youngstown wasno place to go. If they should all move away to some larger city itwould be much better.
He pondered over the situation, and hearing that a manufacturingboom was on in Cleveland, he thought it might be wise to try his luckthere. If he succeeded, the others might follow. If Gerhardt stillworked on in Youngstown, as he was now doing, and the family came toCleveland, it would save Jennie from being turned out in thestreets.
Bass waited a little while before making up his mind, but finallyannounced his purpose.
"I believe I'll go up to Cleveland," he said to his mother oneevening as she was getting supper.
"Why?" she asked, looking up uncertainly. She was rather afraidthat Bass would desert her.
"I think I can get work there," he returned. "We oughtn't to stayin this darned old town."
"Don't swear," she returned reprovingly.
"Oh, I know," he said, "but it's enough to make any one swear.We've never had anything but rotten luck here. I'm going to go, andmaybe if I get anything we can all move. We'd be better off if we'dget some place where people don't know us. We can't be anythinghere."
Mrs. Gerhardt listened with a strong hope for a betterment of theirmiserable life creeping into her heart. If Bass would only do this. Ifhe would go and get work, and come to her rescue, as a strong brightyoung son might, what a thing it would be! They were in the rapids ofa life which was moving toward a dreadful calamity. If only somethingwould happen.
"Do you think you could get something to do?" she askedinterestedly.
"I ought to," he said. "I've never looked for a place yet that Ididn't get it. Other fellows have gone up there and done all right.Look at the Millers."
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out the window.
"Do you think you could get along until I try my hand up there?" heasked.
"I guess we could," she replied. "Papa's at work now and we havesome money that, that--" she hesitated, to name the source, soashamed was she of their predicament.
"Yes, I know," said Bass, grimly.
"We won't have to pay any rent here before fall and then we'll haveto give it up anyhow," she added.
She was referring to the mortgage on the house, which fell due thenext September and which unquestionably could not be met. "If we couldmove away from here before then, I guess we could get along."
"I'll do it," said Bass determinedly. "I'll go."
Accordingly, he threw up his place at the end of the month, and theday after he left for Cleveland.
Jennie Gerhardt: A Novel Page 10