CHAPTER XIV
The days spent in the employ of the Bracebridge household were of abroadening character. This great house was a school to Jennie, notonly in the matter of dress and manners, but as formulating a theoryof existence. Mrs. Bracebridge and her husband were the last word inthe matter of self-sufficiency, taste in the matter of appointments,care in the matter of dress, good form in the matter of reception,entertainment, and the various usages of social life. Now and then,apropos of nothing save her own mood, Mrs. Bracebridge would indicateher philosophy of life in an epigram.
"Life is a battle, my dear. If you gain anything you will have tofight for it."
"In my judgment it is silly not to take advantage of any aid whichwill help you to be what you want to be." (This while applying a faintsuggestion of rouge.)
"Most people are born silly. They are exactly what they are capableof being. I despise lack of taste; it is the worst crime."
Most of these worldly-wise counsels were not given directly toJennie. She overheard them, but to her quiet and reflective mind theyhad their import. Like seeds fallen upon good ground, they took rootand grew. She began to get a faint perception of hierarchies andpowers. They were not for her, perhaps, but they were in the world,and if fortune were kind one might better one's state. She worked on,wondering, however, just how better fortune might come to her. Whowould have her to wife knowing her history? How could she ever explainthe existence of her child?
Her child, her child, the one transcendent, gripping theme of joyand fear. If she could only do something for it--sometime,somehow!
For the first winter things went smoothly enough. By the closesteconomy the children were clothed and kept in school, the rent paid,and the instalments met. Once it looked as though there might be somedifficulty about the continuance of the home life, and that was whenGerhardt wrote that he would be home for Christmas. The mill was toclose down for a short period at that time. He was naturally anxiousto see what the new life of his family at Cleveland was like.
Mrs. Gerhardt would have welcomed his return with unalloyedpleasure had it not been for the fear she entertained of his creatinga scene. Jennie talked it over with her mother, and Mrs. Gerhardt inturn spoke of it to Bass, whose advice was to brave it out.
"Don't worry," he said; "he won't do anything about it. I'll talkto him if he says anything."
The scene did occur, but it was not so unpleasant as Mrs. Gerhardthad feared. Gerhardt came home during the afternoon, while Bass,Jennie, and George were at work. Two of the younger children went tothe train to meet him. When he entered Mrs. Gerhardt greeted himaffectionately, but she trembled for the discovery which was sure tocome. Her suspense was not for long. Gerhardt opened the front bedroomdoor only a few minutes after he arrived. On the white counterpane ofthe bed was a pretty child, sleeping. He could not but know on theinstant whose it was, but he pretended ignorance.
"Whose child is that?" he questioned.
"It's Jennie's," said Mrs. Gerhardt, weakly.
"When did that come here?"
"Not so very long ago," answered the mother, nervously.
"I guess she is here, too," he declared, contemptuously, refusingto pronounce her name, a fact which he had already anticipated.
"She's working in a family," returned his wife in a pleading tone."She's doing so well now. She had no place to go. Let her alone."
Gerhardt had received a light since he had been away. Certaininexplicable thoughts and feelings had come to him in his religiousmeditations. In his prayers he had admitted to the All-seeing that hemight have done differently by his daughter. Yet he could not make uphis mind how to treat her for the future. She had committed a greatsin; it was impossible to get away from that.
When Jennie came home that night a meeting was unavoidable.Gerhardt saw her coming, and pretended to be deeply engaged in anewspaper. Mrs. Gerhardt, who had begged him not to ignore Jennieentirely, trembled for fear he would say or do something which wouldhurt her feelings.
"She is coming now," she said, crossing to the door of the frontroom, where he was sitting; but Gerhardt refused to look up. "Speak toher, anyhow," was her last appeal before the door opened; but he madeno reply.
When Jennie came in her mother whispered, "He is in the frontroom."
Jennie paled, put her thumb to her lip and stood irresolute, notknowing how to meet the situation.
"Has he seen?"
Jennie paused as she realized from her mother's face and nod thatGerhardt knew of the child's existence.
"Go ahead," said Mrs. Gerhardt; "it's all right. He won't sayanything."
Jennie finally went to the door, and, seeing her father, his browwrinkled as if in serious but not unkindly thought, she hesitated, butmade her way forward.
"Papa," she said, unable to formulate a definite sentence.
Gerhardt looked up, his grayish-brown eyes a study under theirheavy sandy lashes. At the sight of his daughter he weakenedinternally; but with the self-adjusted armor of resolve about him heshowed no sign of pleasure at seeing her. All the forces of hisconventional understanding of morality and his naturally sympatheticand fatherly disposition were battling within him, but, as in so manycases where the average mind is concerned, convention was temporarilythe victor.
"Yes," he said.
"Won't you forgive me, Papa?"
"I do," he returned grimly.
She hesitated a moment, and then stepped forward, for what purposehe well understood.
"There," he said, pushing her gently away, as her lips barelytouched his grizzled cheek.
It had been a frigid meeting.
When Jennie went out into the kitchen after this very trying ordealshe lifted her eyes to her waiting mother and tried to make it seem asthough all had been well, but her emotional disposition got the betterof her.
"Did he make up to you?" her mother was about to ask; but the wordswere only half out of her mouth before her daughter sank down into oneof the chairs close to the kitchen table and, laying her head on herarm, burst forth into soft, convulsive, inaudible sobs.
"Now, now," said Mrs. Gerhardt. "There now, don't cry. What did hesay?"
It was some time before Jennie recovered herself sufficiently toanswer. Her mother tried to treat the situation lightly.
"I wouldn't feel bad," she said. "He'll get over it. It's hisway."