CHAPTER XXI
The arrival of this letter, coming after a week of silence andafter she had had a chance to think, moved Jennie deeply. What did shewant to do? What ought she to do? How did she truly feel about thisman? Did she sincerely wish to answer his letter? If she did so, whatshould she say? Heretofore all her movements, even the one in whichshe had sought to sacrifice herself for the sake of Bass in Columbus,had not seemed to involve any one but herself. Now, there seemed to beothers to consider--her family, above all, her child. The littleVesta was now eighteen months of age; she was an interesting child;her large, blue eyes and light hair giving promise of a comelinesswhich would closely approximate that of her mother, while her mentialtraits indicated a clear and intelligent mind. Mrs. Gerhardt hadbecome very fond of her. Gerhardt had unbended so gradually that hisinterest was not even yet clearly discernible, but he had a distinctfeeling of kindliness toward her. And this readjustment of herfather's attitude had aroused in Jennie an ardent desire to so conductherself that no pain should ever come to him again. Any new folly onher part would not only be base ingratitude to her father, but wouldtend to injure the prospects of her little one. Her life was afailure, she fancied, but Vesta's was a thing apart; she must donothing to spoil it. She wondered whether it would not be better towrite Lester and explain everything. She had told him that she did notwish to do wrong. Suppose she went on to inform him that she had achild, and beg him to leave her in peace. Would he obey her? Shedoubted it. Did she really want him to take her at her word?
The need of making this confession was a painful thing to Jennie.It caused her to hesitate, to start a letter in which she tried toexplain, and then to tear it up. Finally, fate intervened in thesudden home-coming of her father, who had been seriously injured by anaccident at the glass-works in Youngstown where he worked.
It was on a Wednesday afternoon, in the latter part of August, whena letter came from Gerhardt. But instead of the customary fatherlycommunication, written in German and inclosing the regular weeklyremittance of five dollars, there was only a brief note, written byanother hand, and explaining that the day before Gerhardt had receiveda severe burn on both hands, due to the accidental overturning of adipper of molten glass. The letter added that he would be home thenext morning.
"What do you think of that?" exclaimed William, his mouth wideopen.
"Poor papa!" said Veronica, tears welling up in her eyes.
Mrs. Gerhardt sat down, clasped her hands in her lap, and stared atthe floor. "Now, what to do?" she nervously exclaimed. The possibilitythat Gerhardt was disabled for life opened long vistas of difficultieswhich she had not the courage to contemplate.
Bass came home at half-past six and Jennie at eight. The formerheard the news with an astonished face.
"Gee! that's tough, isn't it?" he exclaimed. "Did the letter sayhow bad he was hurt?"
"No," replied Mrs. Gerhardt.
"Well, I wouldn't worry about it," said Bass easily. "It won't doany good. We'll get along somehow. I wouldn't worry like that if Iwere you."
The truth was, he wouldn't, because his nature was whollydifferent. Life did not rest heavily upon his shoulders. His brain wasnot large enough to grasp the significance and weigh the results ofthings.
"I know," said Mrs. Gerhardt, endeavoring to recover herself. "Ican't help it, though. To think that just when we were getting alongfairly well this new calamity should be added. It seems sometimes asif we were under a curse. We have so much bad luck."
When Jennie came her mother turned to her instinctively; here washer one stay.
"What's the matter, ma?" asked Jennie as she opened the door andobserved her mother's face. "What have you been crying about?"
Mrs. Gerhardt looked at her, and then turned half away.
"Pa's had his hands burned," put in Bass solemnly. "He'll be hometo-morrow."
Jennie turned and stared at him. "His hands burned!" sheexclaimed.
"Yes," said Bass.
"How did it happen?"
"A pot of glass was turned over."
Jennie looked at her mother, and her eyes dimmed with tears.Instinctively she ran to her and put her arms around her.
"Now, don't you cry, ma," she said, barely able to control herself."Don't you worry. I know how you feel, but we'll get along. Don't crynow." Then her own lips lost their evenness, and she struggled longbefore she could pluck up courage to contemplate this new disaster.And now without volition upon her part there leaped into herconsciousness a new and subtly persistent thought. What about Lester'soffer of assistance now? What about his declaration of love? Somehowit came back to her--his affection, his personality, his desireto help her, his sympathy, so like that which Brander had shown whenBass was in jail. Was she doomed to a second sacrifice? Did it reallymake any difference? Wasn't her life a failure already? She thoughtthis over as she looked at her mother sitting there so silent,haggard, and distraught. "What a pity," she thought, "that her mothermust always suffer! Wasn't it a shame that she could never have anyreal happiness?"
"I wouldn't feel so badly," she said, after a time. "Maybe pa isn'tburned so badly as we think. Did the letter say he'd be home in themorning?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Gerhardt, recovering herself.
They talked more quietly from now on, and gradually, as the detailswere exhausted, a kind of dumb peace settled down upon thehousehold.
"One of us ought to go to the train to meet him in the morning,"said Jennie to Bass. "I will. I guess Mrs. Bracebridge won'tmind."
"No," said Bass gloomily, "you mustn't. I can go."
He was sour at this new fling of fate, and he looked his feelings;he stalked off gloomily to his room and shut himself in. Jennie andher mother saw the others off to bed, and then sat out in the kitchentalking.
"I don't see what's to become of us now," said Mrs. Gerhardt atlast, completely overcome by the financial complications which thisnew calamity had brought about. She looked so weak and helpless thatJennie could hardly contain herself.
"Don't worry, mamma dear," she said, softly, a peculiar resolvecoming into her heart. The world was wide. There was comfort and easein it scattered by others with a lavish hand. Surely, surelymisfortune could not press so sharply but that they could live!
She sat down with her mother, the difficulties of the futureseeming to approach with audible and ghastly steps.
"What do you suppose will become of us now?" repeated her mother,who saw how her fanciful conception of this Cleveland home hadcrumbled before her eyes.
"Why," said Jennie, who saw clearly and knew what could be done,"it will be all right. I wouldn't worry about it. Something willhappen. We'll get something."
She realized, as she sat there, that fate had shifted the burden ofthe situation to her. She must sacrifice herself; there was no otherway.
Bass met his father at the railway station in the morning. Helooked very pale, and seemed to have suffered a great deal. His cheekswere slightly sunken and his bony profile appeared rather gaunt. Hishands were heavily bandaged, and altogether he presented such apicture of distress that many stopped to look at him on the way homefrom the station.
"By chops," he said to Bass, "that was a burn I got. I thought onceI couldn't stand the pain any longer. Such pain I had! Such pain! Bychops! I will never forget it."
He related just how the accident had occurred, and said that he didnot know whether he would ever be able to use his hands again. Thethumb on his right hand and the first two fingers on the left had beenburned to the bone. The latter had been amputated at the firstjoint--the thumb he might save, but his hands would be in dangerof being stiff.
"By chops!" he added, "just at the time when I needed the moneymost. Too bad! Too bad!"
When they reached the house, and Mrs. Gerhardt opened the door, theold mill-worker, conscious of her voiceless sympathy, began to cry.Mrs. Gerhardt sobbed also. Even Bass lost control of himself for amoment or two, but quickly recovered. The other children wept, untilBass called a halt on all of
them.
"Don't cry now," he said cheeringly. "What's the use of crying? Itisn't so bad as all that. You'll be all right again. We can getalong."
Bass's words had a soothing effect, temporarily, and, now that herhusband was home, Mrs. Gerhardt recovered her composure. Though hishands were bandaged, the mere fact that he could walk and was nototherwise injured was some consolation. He might recover the use ofhis hands and be able to undertake light work again. Anyway, theywould hope for the best.
When Jennie came home that night she wanted to run to her fatherand lay the treasury of her services and affection at his feet, butshe trembled lest he might be as cold to her as formerly.
Gerhardt, too, was troubled. Never had he completely recovered fromthe shame which his daughter had brought upon him. Although he wantedto be kindly, his feelings were so tangled that he hardly knew what tosay or do.
"Papa," said Jennie, approaching him timidly.
Gerhardt looked confused and tried to say something natural, but itwas unavailing. The thought of his helplessness, the knowledge of hersorrow and of his own responsiveness to her affection--it was alltoo much for him; he broke down again and cried helplessly.
"Forgive me, papa," she pleaded, "I'm so sorry. Oh, I'm sosorry."
He did not attempt to look at her, but in the swirl of feeling thattheir meeting created he thought that he could forgive, and hedid.
"I have prayed," he said brokenly. "It is all right."
When he recovered himself he felt ashamed of his emotion, but a newrelationship of sympathy and of understanding had been established.From that time, although there was always a great reserve betweenthem, Gerhardt tried not to ignore her completely, and she endeavoredto show him the simple affection of a daughter, just as in the olddays.
But while the household was again at peace, there were other caresand burdens to be faced. How were they to get along now with fivedollars taken from the weekly budget, and with the cost of Gerhardt'spresence added? Bass might have contributed more of his weeklyearnings, but he did not feel called upon to do it. And so the smallsum of nine dollars weekly must meet as best it could the currentexpenses of rent, food, and coal, to say nothing of incidentals, whichnow began to press very heavily. Gerhardt had to go to a doctor tohave his hands dressed daily. George needed a new pair of shoes.Either more money must come from some source or the family must begfor credit and suffer the old tortures of want. The situationcrystallized the half-formed resolve in Jennie's mind.
Lester's letter had been left unanswered. The day was drawing near.Should she write? He would help them. Had he not tried to force moneyon her? She finally decided that it was her duty to avail herself ofthis proffered assistance. She sat down and wrote him a brief note.She would meet him as he had requested, but he would please not cometo the house. She mailed the letter, and then waited, with mingledfeelings of trepidation and thrilling expectancy, the arrival of thefateful day.