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

speak.

"And what was that wish?" she finally asked, her nerves becoming just a little tense under the strain of the silence.

"I am glad you were kind enough to ask me that," he went on. "The subject is a very difficult one for me to introduce—very difficult. I come as an emissary of the estate, I might say as one of the executors under the will of Mr. Kane's father. I know how keenly your—ah—how keenly Mr.

Kane feels about it. I know how keenly you will probably feel about it.

But it is one of those very difficult things which cannot be helped—which must be got over somehow. And while I hesitate very much to say so, I

must tell you that Mr. Kane senior stipulated in his will that unless,

unless"—again his eyes were moving sidewise to and fro—"he saw fit to separate from—ah—you"—he paused to get breath—"he could not

inherit this or any other sum—or, at least, only a very minor income of

ten thousand a year; and that only on condition that he should marry you."

He paused again. "I should add," he went on, "that under the will he was given three years in which to indicate his intentions. That time is now

drawing to a close."

He paused, half expecting some outburst of feeling from Jennie, but she

only looked at him fixedly, her eyes clouded with surprise, distress,

unhappiness. Now she understood. Lester was sacrificing his fortune for

her. His recent commercial venture was an effort to rehabilitate himself, to put himself in an independent position. The recent periods of

preoccupation, of subtle unrest, and of dissatisfaction over which she had grieved were now explained. He was unhappy, he was brooding over this

prospective loss, and he had never told her. So his father had really

disinherited him!

Mr. O'Brien sat before her, troubled himself. He was very sorry for her,

now that he saw the expression of her face. Still the truth had to come

out. She ought to know.

"I'm sorry," he said, when he saw that she was not going to make any immediate reply, "that I have been the bearer of such unfortunate news. It is a very painful situation that I find myself in at this moment, I assure you. I bear you no ill will personally—of course you understand that. The family really bears you no ill will now—I hope you believe that. As I told your—ah— as I told Mr. Kane, at the time the will was read, I considered

it most unfair, but, of course, as a mere executive under it and counsel for his father, I could do nothing. I really think it best that you should know how things stand, in order that you may help your—your husband"—he

paused, significantly—"if possible, to some solution. It seems a pity to me, as it does to the various other members of his family, that he should lose all this money."

Jennie had turned her head away and was staring at the floor. She faced

him now steadily. "He mustn't lose it," she said; "it isn't fair that he should."

"I am most delighted to hear you say that, Mrs.—Mrs. Kane," he went on, using for the first time her improbable title as Lester's wife, without

hesitation. "I may as well be very frank with you, and say that I feared you might take this information in quite another spirit. Of course you

know to begin with that the Kane family is very clannish. Mrs. Kane,

your—ah—your husband's mother, was a very proud and rather distant

woman, and his sisters and brothers are rather set in their notions as to what constitute proper family connections. They look upon his

relationship to you as irregular, and—pardon me if I appear to be a little cruel—as not generally satisfactory. As you know, there had been so

much talk in the last few years that Mr. Kane senior did not believe that the situation could ever be nicely adjusted, so far as the family was

concerned. He felt that his son had not gone about it right in the first

place. One of the conditions of his will was that if your husband—pardon

me—if his son did not accept the proposition in regard to separating from you and taking up his rightful share of the estate, then to inherit anything at all—the mere ten thousand a year I mentioned before—he must—ah—

he must pardon me, I seem a little brutal, but not intentionally so—marry you."

Jennie winced. It was such a cruel thing to say this to her face. This whole attempt to live together illegally had proved disastrous at every step.

There was only one solution to the unfortunate business—she could see

that plainly. She must leave him, or he must leave her. There was no other alternative. Lester living on ten thousand dollars a year! It seemed silly.

Mr. O'Brien was watching her curiously. He was thinking that Lester both

had and had not made a mistake. Why had he not married her in the first

place? She was charming.

"There is just one other point which I wish to make in this connection, Mrs. Kane," he went on softly and easily. "I see now that it will not make any difference to you, but I am commissioned and in a way constrained to

make it. I hope you will take it in the manner in which it is given. I don't know whether you are familiar with your husband's commercial interests

or not?"

"No," said Jennie simply.

"Well, in order to simplify matters, and to make it easier for you, should you decide to assist your husband to a solution of this very difficult

situation—frankly, in case you might possibly decide to leave on your

own account, and maintain a separate establishment of your own—I am

delighted to say that—ah—any sum, say—ah—"

Jennie rose and walked dazedly to one of the windows, clasping her

hands as she went. Mr. O'Brien rose also.

"Well, be that as it may. In the event of your deciding to end the

connection it has been suggested that any reasonable sum you might

name, fifty, seventy-five, a hundred thousand dollars"—Mr. O'Brien was feeling very generous toward her—"would be gladly set aside for your benefit—put in trust, as it were, so that you would have it whenever you

needed it. You would never want for anything."

"Please don't," said Jennie, hurt beyond the power to express herself, unable mentally and physically to listen to another word. "Please don't say any more. Please go away. Let me alone now, please. I can go away. I

will. It will be arranged. But please don't talk to me any more, will you?"

"I understand how you feel, Mrs. Kane," went on Mr. O'Brien, coming to a keen realisation of her sufferings. "I know exactly, believe me. I have said all I intend to say. It has been very hard for me to do this—very hard.

I regret the necessity. You have my card. Please note the name. I will

come any time you suggest, or you can write me. I will not detain you

any longer. I am sorry. I hope you will see fit to say nothing to your

husband of my visit—it will be advisable that you should keep your own

counsel in the matter. I value his friendship very highly, and I am

sincerely sorry."

Jennie only stared at the floor.

Mr. O'Brien went out into the hall to get his coat. Jennie touched the

electric button to summon the maid, and Jeannette came. Jennie went

back into the library, and Mr. O'Brien paced briskly down the front walk.

When she was really alone she put her doubled hands to her chin, and

stared at the floor, the queer design of the silken Turkish rug resolving itself into some curious picture. She saw herself in a small cottage

somewhere, alone with Vesta; she saw Lester living in another world, and