Jennie Gerhardt: A Novel

by Theodore Dreiser

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  The trouble with Jennie's plan was that it did not definitely takeinto consideration Lester's attitude. He did care for her in anelemental way, but he was hedged about by the ideas of theconventional world in which he had been reared. To say that he lovedher well enough to take her for better or worse--to legalize heranomalous position and to face the world bravely with the fact that hehad chosen a wife who suited him--was perhaps going a little toofar, but he did really care for her, and he was not in a mood, at thisparticular time, to contemplate parting with her for good.

  Lester was getting along to that time of life when his ideas ofwomanhood were fixed and not subject to change. Thus far, on his ownplane and within the circle of his own associates, he had met no onewho appealed to him as did Jennie. She was gentle, intelligent,gracious, a handmaiden to his every need; and he had taught her thelittle customs of polite society, until she was as agreeable acompanion as he cared to have. He was comfortable, he wassatisfied--why seek further?

  But Jennie's restlessness increased day by day. She tried writingout her views, and started a half dozen letters before she finallyworded one which seemed, partially at least, to express her feelings.It was a long letter for her, and it ran as follows:

  "Lester dear, When you get this I won't be here, and I want younot to think harshly of me until you have read it all. I am takingVesta and leaving, and I think it is really better that I should.Lester, I ought to do it. You know when you met me we were very poor,and my condition was such that I didn't think any good man would everwant me. When you came along and told me you loved me I was hardlyable to think just what I ought to do. You made me love you, Lester,in spite of myself.

  "You know I told you that I oughtn't to do anything wrong any moreand that I wasn't good, but somehow when you were near me I couldn'tthink just right, and I didn't see just how I was to get away fromyou. Papa was sick at home that time, and there was hardly anything inthe house to eat. We were all doing so poorly. My brother Georgedidn't have good shoes, and mamma was so worried. I have oftenthought, Lester, if mamma had not been compelled to worry so much shemight be alive to-day. I thought if you liked me and I really likedyou--I love you, Lester--maybe it wouldn't make so muchdifference about me. You know you told me right away you would like tohelp my family, and I felt that maybe that would be the right thing todo. We were so terribly poor.

  "Lester, dear, I am ashamed to leave you this way; it seems so mean,but if you knew how I have been feeling these days you would forgiveme. Oh, I love you, Lester, I do, I do. But for months past--eversince your sister came--I felt that I was doing wrong, and that Ioughtn't to go on doing it, for I know how terribly wrong it is. Itwas wrong for me ever to have anything to do with Senator Brander, butI was such a girl then--I hardly knew what I was doing. It waswrong of me not to tell you about Vesta when I first met you, though Ithought I was doing right when I did it. It was terribly wrong of meto keep her here all that time concealed, Lester, but I was afraid ofyou then--afraid of what you would say and do. When your sisterLouise came it all came over me somehow, clearly, and I have neverbeen able to think right about it since. It can't be right, Lester,but I don't blame you. I blame myself.

  "I don't ask you to marry me, Lester. I know how you feel about meand how you feel about your family, and I don't think it would beright. They would never want you to do it, and it isn't right that Ishould ask you. At the same time I know I oughtn't to go on livingthis way. Vesta is getting along where she understands everything. Shethinks you are her really truly uncle. I have thought of it all somuch. I have thought a number of times that I would try to talk to youabout it, but you frighten me when you get serious, and I don't seemto be able to say what I want to. So I thought if I could just writeyou this and then go you would understand. You do, Lester, don't you?You won't be angry with me? I know it's for the best for you and forme. I ought to do it. Please forgive me, Lester, please; and don'tthink of me any more. I will get along. But I love you--oh yes, Ido--and I will never be grateful enough for all you have done forme. I wish you all the luck that can come to you. Please forgive me,Lester. I love you, yes, I do. I love you.

  "JENNIE.

  "P. S. I expect to go to Cleveland with papa. He needs me. He is allalone. But don't come for me, Lester. It's best that youshouldn't."

  She put this in an envelope, sealed it, and, having hidden it inher bosom, for the time being, awaited the hour when she couldconveniently take her departure.

  It was several days before she could bring herself to the actualexecution of the plan, but one afternoon, Lester, having telephonedthat he would not be home for a day or two, she packed some necessarygarments for herself and Vesta in several trunks, and sent for anexpressman. She thought of telegraphing her father that she wascoming; but, seeing he had no home, she thought it would be just aswell to go and find him. George and Veronica had not taken all thefurniture. The major portion of it was in storage--so Gerhard thad written. She might take that and furnish a little home or flat.She was ready for the end, waiting for the expressman, when the dooropened and in walked Lester.

  For some unforeseen reason he had changed his mind. He was not inthe least psychic or intuitional, but on this occasion his feelingshad served him a peculiar turn. He had thought of going for a day'sduck-shooting with some friends in the Kankakee Marshes south ofChicago, but had finally changed his mind; he even decided to go outto the house early. What prompted this he could not have said.

  As he neared the house he felt a little peculiar about coming homeso early; then at the sight of the two trunks standing in the middleof the room he stood dumfounded. What did it mean--Jennie dressedand ready to depart? And Vesta in a similar condition? He stared inamazement, his brown eyes keen in inquiry.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Why--why--" she began, falling back. "I was goingaway."

  "Where to?"

  "I thought I would go to Cleveland," she replied.

  "What for?"

  "Why--why--I meant to tell you, Lester, that I didn'tthink I ought to stay here any longer this way. I didn't think it wasright. I thought I'd tell you, but I couldn't. I wrote you aletter."

  "A letter," he exclaimed. "What the deuce are you talking about?Where is the letter?"

  "There," she said, mechanically pointing to a small center-tablewhere the letter lay conspicuous on a large book.

  "And you were really going to leave me, Jennie, with just aletter?" said Lester, his voice hardening a little as he spoke. "Iswear to heaven you are beyond me. What's the point?" He tore open theenvelope and looked at the beginning. "Better send Vesta from theroom," he suggested.

  She obeyed. Then she came back and stood there pale and wide-eyed,looking at the wall, at the trunks, and at him. Lester read the letterthoughtfully. He shifted his position once or twice, then dropped thepaper on the floor.

  "Well, I'll tell you, Jennie," he said finally, looking at hercuriously and wondering just what he was going to say. Here again washis chance to end this relationship if he wished. He couldn't feelthat he did wish it, seeing how peacefully things were running. Theyhad gone so far together it seemed ridiculous to quit now. He trulyloved her--there was no doubt of that. Still he did not want tomarry her--could not very well. She knew that. Her letter said asmuch. "You have this thing wrong," he went on slowly. "I don't knowwhat comes over you at times, but you don't view the situation right.I've told you before that I can't marry you--not now, anyhow.There are too many big things involved in this, which you don't knowanything about. I love you, you know that. But my family has to betaken into consideration, and the business. You can't see thedifficulties raised on these scores, but I can. Now I don't want youto leave me. I care too much about you. I can't prevent you, ofcourse. You can go if you want to. But I don't think you ought to wantto. You don't really, do you? Sit down a minute."

  Jennie, who had been counting on getting away without being seen,was now thoroughly nonplussed. To have him begin a qui
etargument--a plea as it were. It hurt her. He, Lester, pleadingwith her, and she loved him so.

  She went over to him, and he took her hand.

  "Now, listen," he said. "There's really nothing to be gained byyour leaving me at present. Where did you say you were going?"

  "To Cleveland," she replied.

  "Well, how did you expect to get along?"

  "I thought I'd take papa, if he'd come with me--he's alonenow--and get something to do, maybe."

  "Well, what can you do, Jennie, different from what you ever havedone? You wouldn't expect to be a lady's maid again, would you? Orclerk in a store?"

  "I thought I might get some place as a housekeeper," she suggested.She had been counting up her possibilities, and this was the mostpromising idea that had occurred to her.

  "No, no," he grumbled, shaking his head. "There's nothing to that.There's nothing in this whole move of yours except a notion. Why, youwon't be any better off morally than you are right now. You can't undothe past. It doesn't make any difference, anyhow. I can't marry younow. I might in the future, but I can't tell anything about that, andI don't want to promise anything. You're not going to leave me thoughwith my consent, and if you were going I wouldn't have you droppingback into any such thing as you're contemplating. I'll make someprovision for you. You don't really want to leave me, do you,Jennie?"

  Against Lester's strong personality and vigorous protest Jennie'sown conclusions and decisions went to pieces. Just the pressure of hishand was enough to upset her. Now she began to cry.

  "Don't cry, Jennie," he said. "This thing may work out better thanyou think. Let it rest for a while. Take off your things. You're notgoing to leave me any more, are you?"

  "No-o-o!" she sobbed.

  He took her in his lap. "Let things rest as they are," he went on."It's a curious world. Things can't be adjusted in a minute. They maywork out. I'm putting up with some things myself that I ordinarilywouldn't stand for."

  He finally saw her restored to comparative calmness, smiling sadlythrough her tears.

  "Now you put those things away," he said genially, pointing to thetrunks. "Besides, I want you to promise me one thing."

  "What's that?" asked Jennie.

  "No more concealment of anything, do you hear? No more thinkingthings out for yourself, and acting without my knowing anything aboutit. If you have anything on your mind, I want you to come out with it.I'm not going to eat you! Talk to me about whatever is troubling you.I'll help you solve it, or, if I can't, at least there won't be anyconcealment between us."

  "I know, Lester," she said earnestly, looking him straight in theeyes. "I promise I'll never conceal anything any more--truly Iwon't. I've been afraid, but I won't be now. You can trust me."

  "That sounds like what you ought to be," he replied. "I know youwill." And he let her go.

  A few days later, and in consequence of this agreement, the futureof Gerhardt came up for discussion. Jennie had been worrying about himfor several days; now it occurred to her that this was something totalk over with Lester. Accordingly, she explained one night at dinnerwhat had happened in Cleveland. "I know he is very unhappy there allalone," she said, "and I hate to think of it. I was going to get himif I went back to Cleveland. Now I don't know what to do aboutit."

  "Why don't you send him some money?" he inquired.

  "He won't take any more money from me, Lester," she explained. "Hethinks I'm not good--not acting right. He doesn't believe I'mmarried."

  "He has pretty good reason, hasn't he?" said Lester calmly.

  "I hate to think of him sleeping in a factory. He's so old andlonely."

  "What's the matter with the rest of the family in Cleveland? Won'tthey do anything for him? Where's your brother Bass?"

  "I think maybe they don't want him, he's so cross," she saidsimply.

  "I hardly know what to suggest in that case," smiled Lester. "Theold gentleman oughtn't to be so fussy."

  "I know," she said, "but he's old now, and he has had so muchtrouble."

  Lester ruminated for a while, toying with his fork. "I'll tell youwhat I've been thinking, Jennie," he said finally. "There's no useliving this way any longer, if we're going to stick it out. I've beenthinking that we might take a house out in Hyde Park. It's somethingof a run from the office, but I'm not much for this apartment life.You and Vesta would be better off for a yard. In that case you mightbring your father on to live with us. He couldn't do any harmpottering about; indeed, he might help keep things straight."

  "Oh, that would just suit papa, if he'd come," she replied. "Heloves to fix things, and he'd cut the grass and look after thefurnace. But he won't come unless he's sure I'm married."

  "I don't know how that could be arranged unless you could show theold gentleman a marriage certificate. He seems to want something thatcan't be produced very well. A steady job he'd have running thefurnace of a country house," he added meditatively.

  Jennie did not notice the grimness of the jest. She was too busythinking what a tangle she had made of her life. Gerhardt would notcome now, even if they had a lovely home to share with him. And yet heought to be with Vesta again. She would make him happy.

  She remained lost in a sad abstraction, until Lester, following thedrift of her thoughts, said: "I don't see how it can be arranged.Marriage certificate blanks aren't easily procurable. It's badbusiness--a criminal offense to forge one, I believe. I wouldn'twant to be mixed up in that sort of thing."

  "Oh, I don't want you to do anything like that, Lester. I'm justsorry papa is so stubborn. When he gets a notion you can't changehim."

  "Suppose we wait until we get settled after moving," he suggested."Then you can go to Cleveland and talk to him personally. You might beable to persuade him." He liked her attitude toward her father. It wasso decent that he rather wished he could help her carry out herscheme. While not very interesting, Gerhardt was not objectionable toLester, and if the old man wanted to do the odd jobs around a bigplace, why not?