CHAPTER XXXV
In the meantime Jennie had been going through a moral crisis of herown. For the first time in her life, aside from the family attitude,which had afflicted her greatly, she realized what the world thoughtof her. She was bad--she knew that. She had yielded on twooccasions to the force of circumstances which might have been foughtout differently. If only she had had more courage! If she did notalways have this haunting sense of fear! If she could only make up hermind to do the right thing! Lester would never marry her. Why shouldhe? She loved him, but she could leave him, and it would be better forhim. Probably her father would live with her if she went back toCleveland. He would honor her for at last taking a decent stand. Yetthe thought of leaving Lester was a terrible one to her--he hadbeen so good. As for her father, she was not sure whether he wouldreceive her or not.
After the tragic visit of Louise she began to think of saving alittle money, laying it aside as best she could from her allowance.Lester was generous and she had been able to send home regularlyfifteen dollars a week to maintain the family--as much as theyhad lived on before, without any help from the outside. She spenttwenty dollars to maintain the table, for Lester required the best ofeverything--fruits, meats, desserts, liquors, and what not. Therent was fifty-five dollars, with clothes and extras a varying sum.Lester gave her fifty dollars a week, but somehow it had all gone. Shethought how she might economize but this seemed wrong.
Better go without taking anything, if she were going, was thethought that came to her. It was the only decent thing to do.
She thought over this week after week, after the advent of Louise,trying to nerve herself to the point where she could speak or act.Lester was consistently generous and kind, but she felt at times thathe himself might wish it. He was thoughtful, abstracted. Since thescene with Louise it seemed to her that he had been a littledifferent. If she could only say to him that she was not satisfiedwith the way she was living, and then leave. But he himself hadplainly indicated after his discovery of Vesta that her feelings onthat score could not matter so very much to him, since he thought thepresence of the child would definitely interfere with his evermarrying her. It was her presence he wanted on another basis. And hewas so forceful, she could not argue with him very well. She decidedif she went it would be best to write a letter and tell him why. Thenmaybe when he knew how she felt he would forgive her and think nothingmore about it.
The condition of the Gerhardt family was not improving. SinceJennie had left Martha had married. After several years of teaching inthe public schools of Cleveland she had met a young architect, andthey were united after a short engagement. Martha had been always alittle ashamed of her family, and now, when this new life dawned, shewas anxious to keep the connection as slight as possible. She barelynotified the members of the family of the approachingmarriage--Jennie not at all--and to the actual ceremony sheinvited only Bass and George. Gerhardt, Veronica, and William resentedthe slight. Gerhardt ventured upon no comment. He had had too manyrebuffs. But Veronica was angry. She hoped that life would give her anopportunity to pay her sister off. William, of course, did not mindparticularly. He was interested in the possibilities of becoming anelectrical engineer, a career which one of his school-teachers hadpointed out to him as being attractive and promising.
Jennie heard of Martha's marriage after it was all over, a notefrom Veronica giving her the main details. She was glad from one pointof view, but realized that her brothers and sisters were drifting awayfrom her.
A little while after Martha's marriage Veronica and William went toreside with George, a break which was brought about by the attitude ofGerhardt himself. Ever since his wife's death and the departure of theother children he had been subject to moods of profound gloom, fromwhich he was not easily aroused. Life, it seemed, was drawing to aclose for him, although he was only sixty-five years of age. Theearthly ambitions he had once cherished were gone forever. He sawSebastian, Martha, and George out in the world practically ignoringhim, contributing nothing at all to a home which should never havetaken a dollar from Jennie. Veronica and William were restless. Theyobjected to leaving school and going to work, apparently preferring tolive on money which Gerhardt had long since concluded was not beingcome by honestly. He was now pretty well satisfied as to the truerelations of Jennie and Lester. At first he had believed them to bemarried, but the way Lester had neglected Jennie for long periods, thehumbleness with which she ran at his beck and call, her fear oftelling him about Vesta--somehow it all pointed to the samething. She had not been married at home. Gerhardt had never had sightof her marriage certificate. Since she was away she might have beenmarried, but he did not believe it.
The real trouble was that Gerhardt had grown intensely morose andcrotchety, and it was becoming impossible for young people to livewith him. Veronica and William felt it. They resented the way in whichhe took charge of the expenditures after Martha left. He accused themof spending too much on clothes and amusements, he insisted that asmaller house should be taken, and he regularly sequestered a part ofthe money which Jennie sent, for what purpose they could hardly guess.As a matter of fact, Gerhardt was saving as much as possible in orderto repay Jennie eventually. He thought it was sinful to go on in thisway, and this was his one method, out side of his meager earnings, toredeem himself. If his other children had acted rightly by him he feltthat he would not now be left in his old age the recipient of charityfrom one, who, despite her other good qualities, was certainly notleading a righteous life. So they quarreled.
It ended one winter month when George agreed to receive hiscomplaining brother and sister on condition that they should getsomething to do. Gerhardt was nonplussed for a moment, but invitedthem to take the furniture and go their way. His generosity shamedthem for the moment; they even tentatively invited him to come andlive with them, but this he would not do. He would ask the foreman ofthe mill he watched for the privilege of sleeping in someout-of-the-way garret. He was always liked and trusted. And this wouldsave him a little money.
So in a fit of pique he did this, and there was seen the spectacleof an old man watching through a dreary season of nights, in a lonelytrafficless neighborhood while the city pursued its gaiety elsewhere.He had a wee small corner in the topmost loft of a warehouse away fromthe tear and grind of the factory proper. Here Gerhardt slept by day.In the afternoon he would take a little walk, strolling toward thebusiness center, or out along the banks of the Cuyahoga, or the lake.As a rule his hands were below his back, his brow bent in meditation.He would even talk to himself a little--an occasional "By chops!"or "So it is" being indicative of his dreary mood. At dusk he wouldreturn, taking his stand at the lonely gate which was his post ofduty. His meals he secured at a nearby workingmen's boarding-house,such as he felt he must have.
The nature of the old German's reflections at this time were of apeculiarly subtle and somber character. What was thisthing--life? What did it all come to after the struggle, and theworry, and the grieving? Where does it all go to? People die; you hearnothing more from them. His wife, now, she had gone. Where had herspirit taken its flight?
Yet he continued to hold some strongly dogmatic convictions. Hebelieved there was a hell, and that people who sinned would go there.How about Mrs. Gerhardt? How about Jennie? He believed that both hadsinned woefully. He believed that the just would be rewarded inheaven. But who were the just? Mrs. Gerhardt had not had a bad heart.Jennie was the soul of generosity. Take his son Sebastian. Sebastianwas a good boy, but he was cold, and certainly indifferent to hisfather. Take Martha--she was ambitious, but obviously selfish.Somehow the children, outside of Jennie, seemed self-centered. Basswalked off when he got married, and did nothing more for anybody.Martha insisted that she needed all she made to live on. George hadcontributed for a little while, but had finally refused to help out.Veronica and William had been content to live on Jennie's money solong as he would allow it, and yet they knew it was not right. Hisvery existence, was it not a commentary on the selfishness of hischildr
en? And he was getting so old. He shook his head. Mystery ofmysteries. Life was truly strange, and dark, and uncertain. Still hedid not want to go and live with any of his children. Actually theywere not worthy of him--none but Jennie, and she was not good. Sohe grieved.
This woeful condition of affairs was not made known to Jennie forsome time. She had been sending her letters to Martha, but, on herleaving, Jennie had been writing directly to Gerhardt. AfterVeronica's departure Gerhardt wrote to Jennie saying that there was noneed of sending any more money. Veronica and William were going tolive with George. He himself had a good place in a factory, and wouldlive there a little while. He returned her a moderate sum that he hadsaved--one hundred and fifteen dollars--with the word thathe would not need it.
Jennie did not understand, but as the others did not write, she wasnot sure but what it might be all right--her father was sodetermined. But by degrees, however, a sense of what it really mustmean overtook her--a sense of something wrong, and she worried,hesitating between leaving Lester and going to see about her father,whether she left him or not. Would he come with her? Not herecertainly. If she were married, yes, possibly. If she werealone--probably. Yet if she did not get some work which paid wellthey would have a difficult time. It was the same old problem. Whatcould she do? Nevertheless, she decided to act. If she could get fiveor six dollars a week they could live. This hundred and fifteendollars which Gerhardt had saved would tide them over the worstdifficulties perhaps.