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

beside him Mrs. Gerald. She saw this house vacant, and then a long

stretch of time, and then—

"Oh," she sighed, choking back a desire to cry. With her hands she brushed away a hot tear from each eye. Then she got up.

"It must be," she said to herself in thought. "It must be. It should have been so long ago." And then—"Oh, thank God that papa is dead!

Anyhow, he did not live to see this."

CHAPTER LIII

The explanation which Lester had concluded to be inevitable, whether it

led to separation or legalisation of their hitherto banal condition, followed quickly upon the appearance of Mr. O'Brien. On the day Mr. O'Brien

called he had gone on a journey to Hegewisch, a small manufacturing

town in Wisconsin, where he had been invited to witness the trial of a

new motor intended to operate elevators—with a view to possible

investment. When he came out to the house, interested to tell Jennie

something about it even in spite of the fact that he was thinking of leaving her, he felt a sense of depression everywhere, for Jennie, in spite of the serious and sensible conclusion she had reached, was not one who could

conceal her feelings easily. She was brooding sadly over her proposed

action, realising that it was best to leave but finding it hard to summon the courage which would let her talk to him about it. She could not go

without telling him what she thought. He ought to want to leave her. She

was absolutely convinced that this one course of action—separation—

was necessary and advisable. She could not think of him as daring to

make a sacrifice of such proportions for her sake even if he wanted to. It was impossible. It was astonishing to her that he had let things go along as dangerously and silently as he had. When he came in Jennie did her

best to greet him with her accustomed smile, but it was a pretty poor

imitation.

"Everything all right?" she asked, using her customary phrase of inquiry.

"Quite," he answered. "How are things with you?"

"Oh, just the same." She walked with him to the library, and he poked at the open fire with a long-handled poker before turning around to survey

the room generally. It was five o'clock of a January afternoon. Jennie had gone to one of the windows to lower the shade. As she came back he

looked at her critically. "You're not quite your usual self, are you?" he asked, sensing something out of the common in her attitude.

"Why, yes, I feel all right," she replied, but there was a peculiar uneven motion to the movement of her lips—a rippling tremor which was

unmistakable to him.

"I think I know better than that," he said, still gazing at her steadily.

"What's the trouble? Anything happened?"

She turned away from him a moment to get her breath and collect her

senses. Then she faced him again. "There is something," she managed to say. "I have to tell you something."

"I know you have," he agreed, half smiling, but with a feeling that there was much of grave import back of this. "What is it?"

She was silent for a moment, biting her lips. She did not quite know how

to begin. Finally she broke the spell with: "There was a man here

yesterday—a Mr. O'Brien, of Cincinnati. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I know him. What did he want?"

"He came to talk to me about you and your father's will."

She paused, for his face clouded immediately. "Why the devil should he be talking to you about my father's will!" he exclaimed. "What did he have to say?"

"Please don't get angry, Lester," said Jennie calmly, for she realised that she must remain absolute mistress of herself if anything were to be

accomplished toward the resolution of her problem. "He wanted to tell me what a sacrifice you are making," she went on. "He wished to show me that there was only a little time left before you would lose your

inheritance. Don't you want to act pretty soon? Don't you want to leave

me?"

"Damn him!" said Lester fiercely. "What the devil does he mean by putting his nose in my private affairs? Can't they let me alone?" He shook himself angrily. "Damn them!" he exclaimed again. "This is some of Robert's work. Why should Knight, Keatley & O'Brien be meddling in

my affairs? This whole business is getting to be a nuisance!" He was in a boiling rage in a moment, as was shown by his darkening skin and

sulphurous eyes.

Jennie trembled before his anger. She did not know what to say.

He came to himself sufficiently after a time to add:

"Well. Just what did he tell you?"

"He said that if you married me you would only get ten thousand a year.

That if you didn't and still lived with me you would get nothing at all. If you would leave me, or I would leave you, you would get all of a million

and a half. Don't you think you had better leave me now?"

She had not intended to propound this leading question so quickly, but it came out as a natural climax to the situation. She realised instantly that if he were really in love with her he would answer with an emphatic "no." If he didn't care, he would hesitate, he would delay, he would seek to put off the evil day of reckoning.

"I don't see that," he retorted irritably. "I don't see that there's any need for either interference or hasty action. What I object to is their coming here and mixing in my private affairs."

Jennie was cut to the quick by his indifference, his wrath instead of

affection. To her the main point at issue was her leaving him or his

leaving her. To him this recent interference was obviously the chief matter for discussion and consideration. The meddling of others before he was

ready to act was the terrible thing. She had hoped, in spite of what she

had seen, that possibly, because of the long time they had lived together and the things which (in a way) they had endured together, he might have

come to care for her deeply—that she had stirred some emotion in him

which would never brook real separation, though some seeming

separation might be necessary. He had not married her, of course, but then there had been so many things against them. Now, in this final hour,

anyhow, he might have shown that he cared deeply, even if he had

deemed it necessary to let her go. She felt for the time being as if, for all that she had lived with him so long, she did not understand him, and yet, in spite of this feeling, she knew also that she did. He cared, in his way.

He could not care for any one enthusiastically and demonstratively. He

could care enough to seize her and take her to himself as he had, but he

could not care enough to keep her if something more important appeared.

He was debating her fate now. She was in a quandary, hurt, bleeding, but

for once in her life, determined. Whether he wanted to or not, she must

not let him make this sacrifice. She must leave him—if he would not

leave her. It was not important enough that she should stay. There might

be but one answer. But might he not show affection?

"Don't you think you had better act soon?" she continued, hoping that some word of feeling would come from him. "There is only a little time left, isn't there?"

Jennie nervously pushed a book to and fro on the table, her fear that she would not be able to keep up appearances troubling her greatly. It was

hard for her to know what to do or say. Lester was so terrible when he