CHAPTER XVIII
Jennie was now going through the agony of one who has a varied andcomplicated problem to confront. Her baby, her father, her brothers,and sisters all rose up to confront her. What was this thing that shewas doing? Was she allowing herself to slip into another wretched,unsanctified relationship? How was she to explain to her family aboutthis man? He would not marry her, that was sure, if he knew all abouther. He would not marry her, anyhow, a man of his station andposition. Yet here she was parleying with him. What ought she to do?She pondered over the problem until evening, deciding first that itwas best to run away, but remembering painfully that she had told himwhere she lived. Then she resolved that she would summon up hercourage and refuse him--tell him she couldn't, wouldn't haveanything to do with him. This last solution of the difficulty seemedsimple enough--in his absence. And she would find work where hecould not follow her up so easily. It all seemed simple enough as sheput on her things in the evening to go home.
Her aggressive lover, however, was not without his own conclusionin this matter. Since leaving Jennie he had thought concisely and tothe point. He came to the decision that he must act at once. She mighttell her family, she might tell Mrs. Bracebridge, she might leave thecity. He wanted to know more of the conditions which surrounded her,and there was only one way to do that--talk to her. He mustpersuade her to come and live with him. She would, he thought. Sheadmitted that she liked him. That soft, yielding note in her characterwhich had originally attracted him seemed to presage that he could winher without much difficulty, if he wished to try. He decided to do so,anyhow, for truly he desired her greatly.
At half-past five he returned to the Bracebridge home to see if shewere still there. At six he had an opportunity to say to her,unobserved, "I am going to walk home with you. Wait for me at the nextcorner, will you?"
"Yes," she said, a sense of compulsion to do his bidding seizingher. She explained to herself afterward that she ought to talk to him,that she must tell him finally of her decision not to see him again,and this was as good an opportunity as any. At half-past six he leftthe house on a pretext--a forgotten engagement--and a littleafter seven he was waiting for her in a closed carriage near theappointed spot. He was calm, absolutely satisfied as to the result,and curiously elated beneath a sturdy, shock-proof exterior. It was asif he breathed some fragrant perfume, soft, grateful, entrancing.
A few minutes after eight he saw Jennie coming along. The flare ofthe gas-lamp was not strong, but it gave sufficient light for his eyesto make her out. A wave of sympathy passed over him, for there was agreat appeal in her personality. He stepped out as she neared thecorner and confronted her. "Come," he said, "and get in this carriagewith me. I'll take you home."
"No," she replied. "I don't think I ought to."
"Come with me. I'll take you home. It's a better way to talk."
Once more that sense of dominance on his part, that power ofcompulsion. She yielded, feeling all the time that she should not; hecalled out to the cabman, "Anywhere for a little while." When she wasseated beside him he began at once.
"Listen to me, Jennie, I want you. Tell me something aboutyourself."
"I have to talk to you," she replied, trying to stick to heroriginal line of defense.
"About what?" he inquired, seeking to fathom her expression in thehalf light.
"I can't go on this way," she murmured nervously. "I can't act thisway. You don't know how it all is. I shouldn't have done what I didthis morning. I mustn't see you any more. Really I mustn't."
"You didn't do what you did this morning," he remarked,paradoxically, seizing on that one particular expression. "I did that.And as for seeing me any more, I'm going to see you." He seized herhand. "You don't know me, but I like you. I'm crazy about you, that'sall. You belong to me. Now listen. I'm going to have you. Are yougoing to come to me?"
"No, no, no!" she replied in an agonized voice, "I can't doanything like that, Mr. Kane. Please listen to me. It can't be. Youdon't know. Oh, you don't know. I can't do what you want. I don't wantto. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. You don't know how things are.But I don't want to do anything wrong. I mustn't. I can't. I won't.Oh, no! no!! no!!! Please let me go home."
He listened to this troubled, feverish outburst with sympathy, witheven a little pity.
"What do you mean by you can't?" he asked, curiously.
"Oh, I can't tell you," she replied. "Please don't ask me. Yououghtn't to know. But I mustn't see you any more. It won't do anygood."
"But you like me," he retorted.
"Oh yes, yes, I do. I can't help that. But you mustn't come near meany more. Please don't."
He turned his proposition over in his mind with the solemnity of ajudge. He knew that this girl liked him--loved him really, briefas their contact had been. And he was drawn to her, perhaps notirrevocably, but with exceeding strength. What prevented her fromyielding, especially since she wanted to? He was curious.
"See here, Jennie," he replied. "I hear what you say. I don't knowwhat you mean by 'can't' if you want to. You say you like me. Whycan't you come to me? You're my sort. We will get along beautifullytogether. You're suited to me temperamentally. I'd like to have youwith me. What makes you say you can't come?"
"I can't," she replied. "I can't. I don't want to. I oughtn't. Oh,please don't ask me any more. You don't know. I can't tell you why."She was thinking of her baby.
The man had a keen sense of justice and fair play. Above all thingshe wanted to be decent in his treatment of people. In this case heintended to be tender and considerate, and yet he must win her. Heturned this over in his mind.
"Listen to me," he said finally, still holding her hand. "I may notwant you to do anything immediately. I want you to think it over. Butyou belong to me. You say you care for me. You admitted that thismorning. I know you do. Now why should you stand out against me? Ilike you, and I can do a lot of things for you. Why not let us be goodfriends now? Then we can talk the rest of this over later."
"But I mustn't do anything wrong," she insisted. "I don't want to.Please don't come near me any more. I can't do what you want."
"Now, look here," he said. "You don't mean that. Why did you sayyou liked me? Have you changed your mind? Look at me." (She hadlowered her eyes.) "Look at me! You haven't, have you?"
"Oh no, no, no," she half sobbed, swept by some force beyond hercontrol.
"Well, then, why stand out against me? I love you, I tellyou--I'm crazy about you. That's why I came back this time. Itwas to see you!"
"Was it?" asked Jennie, surprised.
"Yes, it was. And I would have come again and again if necessary. Itell you I'm crazy about you. I've got to have you. Now tell me you'llcome with me."
"No, no, no," she pleaded. "I can't. I must work. I want to work. Idon't want to do anything wrong. Please don't ask me. You mustn't. Youmust let me go. Really you must. I can't do what you want."
"Tell me, Jennie," he said, changing the subject. "What does yourfather do?"
"He's a glass-blower."
"Here in Cleveland?"
"No, he works in Youngstown."
"Is your mother alive?"
"Yes, sir."
"You live with her?"
"Yes, sir."
He smiled at the "sir." "Don't say 'sir' to me, sweet!" he pleadedin his gruff way. "And don't insist on the Mr. Kane. I'm not 'mister'to you any more. You belong to me, little girl, me." And he pulled herclose to him.
"Please don't, Mr. Kane," she pleaded. "Oh, please don't. I can't!I can't! You mustn't."
But he sealed her lips with his own.
"Listen to me, Jennie," he repeated, using his favorite expression."I tell you you belong to me. I like you better every moment. Ihaven't had a chance to know you. I'm not going to give you up. You'vegot to come to me eventually. And I'm not going to have you working asa lady's maid. You can't stay in that place except for a little while.I'm going to take you somewhere else. And I'm going to leave you somemoney, do you hear? You
have to take it."
At the word money she quailed and withdrew her hand.
"No, no, no!" she repeated. "No, I won't take it."
"Yes, you will. Give it to your mother. I'm not trying to buy you.I know what you think. But I'm not. I want to help you. I want to helpyour family. I know where you live. I saw the place to-day. How manyare there of you?"
"Six," she answered faintly.
"The families of the poor," he thought.
"Well, you take this from me," he insisted, drawing a purse fromhis coat. "And I'll see you very soon again. There's no escape,sweet."
"No, no," she protested. "I won't. I don't need it. No, you mustn'task me."
He insisted further, but she was firm, and finally he put the moneyaway.
"One thing is sure, Jennie, you're not going to escape me," he saidsoberly. "You'll have to come to me eventually. Don't you know youwill? Your own attitude shows that. I'm not going to leave youalone."
"Oh, if you knew the trouble you're causing me."
"I'm not causing you any real trouble, am I?" he asked. "Surelynot."
"Yes. I can never do what you want."
"You will! You will!" he exclaimed eagerly, the bare thought ofthis prize escaping him heightening his passion. "You'll come to me."And he drew her close in spite of all her protests.
"There," he said when, after the struggle, that mystic somethingbetween them spoke again, and she relaxed. Tears were in her eyes, buthe did not see them. "Don't you see how it is? You like me too."
"I can't," she repeated, with a sob.
Her evident distress touched him. "You're not crying, little girl,are you?" he asked.
She made no answer.
"I'm sorry," he went on. "I'll not say anything more to-night.We're almost at your home. I'm leaving to-morrow, but I'll see youagain. Yes, I will, sweet. I can't give you up now. I'll do anythingin reason to make it easy for you, but I can't, do you hear?"
She shook her head.
"Here's where you get out," he said, as the carriage drew up nearthe corner. He could see the evening lamp gleaming behind the Gerhardtcottage curtains.
"Good-by," he said as she stepped out.
"Good-by," she murmured.
"Remember," he said, "this is just the beginning."
"Oh no, no!" she pleaded.
He looked after her as she walked away.
"The beauty!" he exclaimed.
Jennie stepped into the house weary, discouraged, ashamed. What hadshe done? There was no denying that she had compromised herselfirretrievably. He would come back.
He would come back. And he had offered her money. That was theworst of all.