Jennie Gerhardt - Драйзер Теодор (книги без регистрации бесплатно полностью сокращений .txt) 📗

particular measure of success in this venture, he rode pleasantly into

Chicago confident in the reflection that he had all the powers of morality and justice on his side.

Upon Robert's arrival, the third morning after Louise's interview, he

called up the warerooms, but Lester was not there. He then telephoned to

the house, and tactfully made an appointment. Lester was still indisposed, but he preferred to come down to the office, and he did. He met Robert in his cheerful, nonchalant way, and together they talked business for a time.

Then followed a pregnant silence.

"Well, I suppose you know what brought me up here," began Robert tentatively.

"I think I could make a guess at it," Lester replied.

"They were all very much worried over the fact that you were sick—

mother particularly. You're not in any danger of having a relapse, are

you?"

"I think not."

"Louise said there was some sort of a peculiar menage she ran into up here. You're not married, are you?"

"No."

"The young woman Louise saw is just—" Robert waved his hand

expressively.

Lester nodded.

"I don't want to be inquisitive, Lester. I didn't come up for that. I'm simply here because the family felt that I ought to come. Mother was so

very much distressed that I couldn't do less than see you for her sake—"

he paused, and Lester, touched by the fairness and respect of his attitude, felt that mere courtesy at least made some explanation due.

"I don't know that anything I can say will help matters much," he replied thoughtfully. "There's really nothing to be said. I have the woman and the family has its objections. The chief difficulty about the thing seems to be the bad luck in being found out."

He stopped, and Robert turned over the substance of this worldly

reasoning in his mind. Lester was very calm about it. He seemed, as

usual, to be most convincingly sane.

"You're not contemplating marrying her, are you?" queried Robert hesitatingly.

"I hadn't come to that," answered Lester coolly.

They looked at each other quietly for a moment, and then Robert turned

his glance to the distant scene of the city.

"It's useless to ask whether you are seriously in love with her, I suppose,"

ventured Robert.

"I don't know whether I'd be able to discuss that divine afflatus with you or not," returned Lester, with a touch of grim humour. "I have never experienced the sensation myself. All I know is that the lady is very

pleasing to me."

"Well, it's all a question of your own well-being and the family's, Lester,"

went on Robert, after another pause. "Morality doesn't seem to figure in it anyway—at least you and I can't discuss that together. Your feelings on

that score naturally relate to you alone. But the matter of your own

personal welfare seems to me to be substantial enough ground to base a

plea on. The family's feelings and pride are also fairly important. Father's the kind of a man who sets more store by the honour of his family than

most men. You know that as well as I do, of course."

"I know how father feels about it," returned Lester. "The whole business is as clear to me as it is to any of you, though off-hand I don't see just what's to be done about it. These matters aren't always of a day's growth, and they can't be settled in a day. The girl's here. To a certain extent I'm responsible that she is here. While I'm not willing to go into details,

there's always more in these affairs than appears on the court calendar."

"Of course I don't know what your relations with her have been," returned Robert, "and I'm not curious to know, but it does look like a bit of injustice all around, don't you think—unless you intend to marry her?"

This last was put forth as a feeler.

"I might be willing to agree to that, too," was Lester's baffling reply, "if anything were to be gained by it. The point is, the woman is here, and the family is in possession of the fact. Now if there is anything to be done I have to do it. There isn't anybody else who can act for me in this matter."

Lester lapsed into a silence, and Robert rose and paced the floor, coming back after a time to say: "You say you haven't any idea of marrying her—

or rather you haven't come to it. I wouldn't, Lester. It seems to me you

would be making the mistake of your life, from every point of view. I

don't want to orate, but a man of your position has so much to lose; you

can't afford to do it. Aside from family considerations, you have too much at stake. You'd be simply throwing your life away—"

He paused, with his right hand held out before him, as was customary

when he was deeply in earnest, and Lester felt the candour and simplicity of this appeal. Robert was not criticising him now. He was making an

appeal to him, and this was somewhat different.

The appeal passed without comment, however, and then Robert began on

a new tack, this time picturing old Archibald's fondness for Lester and the hope he had always entertained that he would marry some well-to-do

Cincinnati girl, Catholic, if agreeable to him, but at least worthy of his station. And Mrs. Kane felt the same way; surely Lester must realise that.

"I know just how all of them feel about it," Lester interrupted at last, "but I don't see that anything's to be done right now."

"You mean that you don't think it would be policy for you to give her up just at present?"

"I mean that she's been exceptionally good to me, and that I'm morally under obligations to do the best I can by her. What that may be, I can't

tell."

"To live with her?" inquired Robert coolly.

"Certainly not to turn her out bag and baggage if she has been

accustomed to live with me," replied Lester. Robert sat down again, as if he considered his recent appeal futile.

"Can't family reasons persuade you to make some amicable arrangements with her and let her go?"

"Not without due consideration of the matter; no."

"You don't think you could hold out some hope that the thing will end quickly—something that would give me a reasonable excuse for

softening down the pain of it to the family?"

"I would be perfectly willing to do anything which would take away the edge of this thing for the family, but the truth's the truth, and I can't see any room for equivocation between you and me. As I've said before, these

relationships are involved with things which make it impossible to

discuss them—unfair to me, unfair to the woman. No one can see how

they are to be handled, except the people that are in them, and even they can't always see. I'd be a damned dog to stand up here and give you my

word to do anything except the best I can."

Lester stopped, and now Robert rose and paced the floor again, only to

come back after a time and say, "You don't think there's anything to be done just at present?"

"Not at present."

"Very well, then, I expect I might as well be going. I don't know that there's anything else we can talk about."

"Won't you stay and take lunch with me? I think I might manage to get down to the hotel if you'll stay."

"No, thank you," answered Robert. "I believe I can make that one o'clock train for Cincinnati. I'll try, anyhow."

They stood before each other now, Lester pale and rather flaccid, Robert, clear, wax-like, well-knit, and shrewd, and one could see the difference