by Theodore Dreiser 13 страница

"Look at me, honey."

"I don't want to."

"But look at me, sweet. I want to ask you something."

"Don't make me, Frank, please. I can't."

"Oh yes, you can look at me."

"No."

She backed away as he took her hands, but came forward again, easily

enough.

"Now look in my eyes."

"I can't."

"See here."

"I can't. Don't ask me. I'll answer you, but don't make me look at you."

His hand stole to her cheek and fondled it. He petted her shoulder, and

she leaned her head against him.

"Sweet, you're so beautiful," he said finally, "I can't give you up. I

know what I ought to do. You know, too, I suppose; but I can't. I must

have you. If this should end in exposure, it would be quite bad for you

and me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I don't know your brothers very well; but from looking at them I judge

they're pretty determined people. They think a great deal of you."

"Indeed, they do." Her vanity prinked slightly at this.

"They would probably want to kill me, and very promptly, for just this

much. What do you think they would want to do if--well, if anything

should happen, some time?"

He waited, watching her pretty face.

"But nothing need happen. We needn't go any further."

"Aileen!"

"I won't look at you. You needn't ask. I can't."

"Aileen! Do you mean that?"

"I don't know. Don't ask me, Frank."

"You know it can't stop this way, don't you? You know it. This isn't

the end. Now, if--" He explained the whole theory of illicit meetings,

calmly, dispassionately. "You are perfectly safe, except for one thing,

chance exposure. It might just so happen; and then, of course, there

would be a great deal to settle for. Mrs. Cowperwood would never give me

a divorce; she has no reason to. If I should clean up in the way I hope

to--if I should make a million--I wouldn't mind knocking off now. I

don't expect to work all my days. I have always planned to knock off at

thirty-five. I'll have enough by that time. Then I want to travel. It

will only be a few more years now. If you were free--if your father

and mother were dead"--curiously she did not wince at this practical

reference--"it would be a different matter."

He paused. She still gazed thoughtfully at the water below, her mind

running out to a yacht on the sea with him, a palace somewhere--just

they two. Her eyes, half closed, saw this happy world; and, listening to

him, she was fascinated.

"Hanged if I see the way out of this, exactly. But I love you!" He

caught her to him. "I love you--love you!"

"Oh, yes," she replied intensely, "I want you to. I'm not afraid."

"I've taken a house in North Tenth Street," he said finally, as they

walked over to the horses and mounted them. "It isn't furnished yet; but

it will be soon. I know a woman who will take charge."

"Who is she?"

"An interesting widow of nearly fifty. Very intelligent--she is

attractive, and knows a good deal of life. I found her through an

advertisement. You might call on her some afternoon when things are

arranged, and look the place over. You needn't meet her except in a

casual way. Will you?"

She rode on, thinking, making no reply. He was so direct and practical

in his calculations.

"Will you? It will be all right. You might know her. She isn't

objectionable in any way. Will you?"

"Let me know when it is ready," was all she said finally.

Chapter XXI

The vagaries of passion! Subtleties! Risks! What sacrifices are not

laid willfully upon its altar! In a little while this more than average

residence to which Cowperwood had referred was prepared solely to

effect a satisfactory method of concealment. The house was governed by

a seemingly recently-bereaved widow, and it was possible for Aileen to

call without seeming strangely out of place. In such surroundings, and

under such circumstances, it was not difficult to persuade her to

give herself wholly to her lover, governed as she was by her wild and

unreasoning affection and passion. In a way, there was a saving element

of love, for truly, above all others, she wanted this man. She had no

thought or feeling toward any other. All her mind ran toward visions of

the future, when, somehow, she and he might be together for all time.

Mrs. Cowperwood might die, or he might run away with her at thirty-five

when he had a million. Some adjustment would be made, somehow. Nature

had given her this man. She relied on him implicitly. When he told her

that he would take care of her so that nothing evil should befall, she

believed him fully. Such sins are the commonplaces of the confessional.

It is a curious fact that by some subtlety of logic in the Christian

world, it has come to be believed that there can be no love outside the

conventional process of courtship and marriage. One life, one love, is

the Christian idea, and into this sluice or mold it has been endeavoring

to compress the whole world. Pagan thought held no such belief. A

writing of divorce for trivial causes was the theory of the elders; and

in the primeval world nature apparently holds no scheme for the unity of

two beyond the temporary care of the young. That the modern home is

the most beautiful of schemes, when based upon mutual sympathy and

understanding between two, need not be questioned. And yet this fact

should not necessarily carry with it a condemnation of all love not so

fortunate as to find so happy a denouement. Life cannot be put into

any mold, and the attempt might as well be abandoned at once. Those

so fortunate as to find harmonious companionship for life should

congratulate themselves and strive to be worthy of it. Those not

so blessed, though they be written down as pariahs, have yet some

justification. And, besides, whether we will or not, theory or no

theory, the basic facts of chemistry and physics remain. Like is drawn

to like. Changes in temperament bring changes in relationship. Dogma may

bind some minds; fear, others. But there are always those in whom the

chemistry and physics of life are large, and in whom neither dogma nor

fear is operative. Society lifts its hands in horror; but from age

to age the Helens, the Messalinas, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, the

Maintenons, and the Nell Gwyns flourish and point a freer basis of

relationship than we have yet been able to square with our lives.

These two felt unutterably bound to each other. Cowperwood, once he came

to understand her, fancied that he had found the one person with whom he

could live happily the rest of his life. She was so young, so confident,

so hopeful, so undismayed. All these months since they had first begun

to reach out to each other he had been hourly contrasting her with his

wife. As a matter of fact, his dissatisfaction, though it may be said to

have been faint up to this time, was now surely tending to become real

enough. Still, his children were pleasing to him; his home beautiful.

Lillian, phlegmatic and now thin, was still not homely. All these years

he had found her satisfactory enough; but now his dissatisfaction with

her began to increase. She was not like Aileen--not young, not vivid,

not as unschooled in the commonplaces of life. And while ordinarily, he

was not one who was inclined to be querulous, still now on occasion,

he could be. He began by asking questions concerning his wife's

appearance--irritating little whys which are so trivial and yet so

exasperating and discouraging to a woman. Why didn't she get a mauve

hat nearer the shade of her dress? Why didn't she go out more? Exercise

would do her good. Why didn't she do this, and why didn't she do that?

He scarcely noticed that he was doing this; but she did, and she felt

the undertone--the real significance--and took umbrage.

"Oh, why--why?" she retorted, one day, curtly. "Why do you ask so many

questions? You don't care so much for me any more; that's why. I can

tell."

He leaned back startled by the thrust. It had not been based on any

evidence of anything save his recent remarks; but he was not absolutely

sure. He was just the least bit sorry that he had irritated her, and he

said so.

"Oh, it's all right," she replied. "I don't care. But I notice that you

don't pay as much attention to me as you used to. It's your business

now, first, last, and all the time. You can't get your mind off of

that."

He breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't suspect, then.

But after a little time, as he grew more and more in sympathy with

Aileen, he was not so disturbed as to whether his wife might suspect

or not. He began to think on occasion, as his mind followed the various

ramifications of the situation, that it would be better if she did. She

was really not of the contentious fighting sort. He now decided because

of various calculations in regard to her character that she might not

offer as much resistance to some ultimate rearrangement, as he had

originally imagined. She might even divorce him. Desire, dreams, even

in him were evoking calculations not as sound as those which ordinarily

generated in his brain.

No, as he now said to himself, the rub was not nearly so much in his own

home, as it was in the Butler family. His relations with Edward Malia

Butler had become very intimate. He was now advising with him constantly

in regard to the handling of his securities, which were numerous.

Butler held stocks in such things as the Pennsylvania Coal Company,

the Delaware and Hudson Canal, the Morris and Essex Canal, the Reading

Railroad. As the old gentleman's mind had broadened to the significance

of the local street-railway problem in Philadelphia, he had decided to

close out his other securities at such advantageous terms as he could,

and reinvest the money in local lines. He knew that Mollenhauer

and Simpson were doing this, and they were excellent judges of the

significance of local affairs. Like Cowperwood, he had the idea that if

he controlled sufficient of the local situation in this field, he

could at last effect a joint relationship with Mollenhauer and Simpson.

Political legislation, advantageous to the combined lines, could then

be so easily secured. Franchises and necessary extensions to existing

franchises could be added. This conversion of his outstanding stock

in other fields, and the picking up of odd lots in the local

street-railway, was the business of Cowperwood. Butler, through his

sons, Owen and Callum, was also busy planning a new line and obtaining a

franchise, sacrificing, of course, great blocks of stock and actual cash

to others, in order to obtain sufficient influence to have the necessary

legislation passed. Yet it was no easy matter, seeing that others knew

what the general advantages of the situation were, and because of this

Cowperwood, who saw the great source of profit here, was able, betimes,

to serve himself--buying blocks, a part of which only went to Butler,

Mollenhauer or others. In short he was not as eager to serve Butler, or

any one else, as he was to serve himself if he could.

In this connection, the scheme which George W. Stener had brought

forward, representing actually in the background Strobik, Wycroft, and

Harmon, was an opening wedge for himself. Stener's plan was to loan him

money out of the city treasury at two per cent., or, if he would waive

all commissions, for nothing (an agent for self-protective purposes

was absolutely necessary), and with it take over the North Pennsylvania

Company's line on Front Street, which, because of the shortness of its

length, one mile and a half, and the brevity of the duration of its

franchise, was neither doing very well nor being rated very high.

Cowperwood in return for his manipulative skill was to have a fair

proportion of the stock--twenty per cent. Strobik and Wycroft knew the

parties from whom the bulk of the stock could be secured if engineered

properly. Their plan was then, with this borrowed treasury money, to

extend its franchise and then the line itself, and then later again, by

issuing a great block of stock and hypothecating it with a favored bank,

be able to return the principal to the city treasury and pocket their

profits from the line as earned. There was no trouble in this, in so far

as Cowperwood was concerned, except that it divided the stock very badly

among these various individuals, and left him but a comparatively small

share--for his thought and pains.

But Cowperwood was an opportunist. And by this time his financial

morality had become special and local in its character. He did not think

it was wise for any one to steal anything from anybody where the act of

taking or profiting was directly and plainly considered stealing.

That was unwise--dangerous--hence wrong. There were so many situations

wherein what one might do in the way of taking or profiting was open

to discussion and doubt. Morality varied, in his mind at least, with

conditions, if not climates. Here, in Philadelphia, the tradition

(politically, mind you--not generally) was that the city treasurer might

use the money of the city without interest so long as he returned the

principal intact. The city treasury and the city treasurer were like

a honey-laden hive and a queen bee around which the drones--the

politicians--swarmed in the hope of profit. The one disagreeable thing

in connection with this transaction with Stener was that neither Butler,

Mollenhauer nor Simpson, who were the actual superiors of Stener and

Strobik, knew anything about it. Stener and those behind him were,

through him, acting for themselves. If the larger powers heard of this,

it might alienate them. He had to think of this. Still, if he refused

to make advantageous deals with Stener or any other man influential in

local affairs, he was cutting off his nose to spite his face, for other

bankers and brokers would, and gladly. And besides it was not at all

certain that Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson would ever hear.

In this connection, there was another line, which he rode on

occasionally, the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, which he felt

was a much more interesting thing for him to think about, if he could

raise the money. It had been originally capitalized for five hundred

thousand dollars; but there had been a series of bonds to the value of

two hundred and fifty thousand dollars added for improvements, and the

company was finding great difficulty in meeting the interest. The bulk

of the stock was scattered about among small investors, and it would

require all of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to collect it and

have himself elected president or chairman of the board of directors.

Once in, however, he could vote this stock as he pleased, hypothecating

it meanwhile at his father's bank for as much as he could get, and

issuing more stocks with which to bribe legislators in the matter of

extending the line, and in taking up other opportunities to either

add to it by purchase or supplement it by working agreements. The

word "bribe" is used here in this matter-of-fact American way, because

bribery was what was in every one's mind in connection with the State

legislature. Terrence Relihan--the small, dark-faced Irishman, a

dandy in dress and manners--who represented the financial interests at

Harrisburg, and who had come to Cowperwood after the five million bond

deal had been printed, had told him that nothing could be done at the

capital without money, or its equivalent, negotiable securities. Each

significant legislator, if he yielded his vote or his influence, must be

looked after. If he, Cowperwood, had any scheme which he wanted handled

at any time, Relihan had intimated to him that he would be glad to talk

with him. Cowperwood had figured on this Seventeenth and Nineteenth

Street line scheme more than once, but he had never felt quite sure that

he was willing to undertake it. His obligations in other directions were

so large. But the lure was there, and he pondered and pondered.

Stener's scheme of loaning him money wherewith to manipulate the North

Pennsylvania line deal put this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street dream

in a more favorable light. As it was he was constantly watching the

certificates of loan issue, for the city treasury,--buying large

quantities when the market was falling to protect it and selling

heavily, though cautiously, when he saw it rising and to do this he

had to have a great deal of free money to permit him to do it. He was

constantly fearful of some break in the market which would affect the

value of all his securities and result in the calling of his loans.

There was no storm in sight. He did not see that anything could happen

in reason; but he did not want to spread himself out too thin. As he saw

it now, therefore if he took one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of

this city money and went after this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street

matter it would not mean that he was spreading himself out too thin, for

because of this new proposition could he not call on Stener for more as

a loan in connection with these other ventures? But if anything should

happen--well--

"Frank," said Stener, strolling into his office one afternoon after four

o'clock when the main rush of the day's work was over--the relationship

between Cowperwood and Stener had long since reached the "Frank" and

"George" period--"Strobik thinks he has that North Pennsylvania

deal arranged so that we can take it up if we want to. The principal

stockholder, we find, is a man by the name of Coltan--not Ike Colton,

but Ferdinand. How's that for a name?" Stener beamed fatly and genially.

Things had changed considerably for him since the days when he had been

fortuitously and almost indifferently made city treasurer. His method

of dressing had so much improved since he had been inducted into office,

and his manner expressed so much more good feeling, confidence, aplomb,

that he would not have recognized himself if he had been permitted

to see himself as had those who had known him before. An old, nervous

shifting of the eyes had almost ceased, and a feeling of restfulness,

which had previously been restlessness, and had sprung from a sense of

necessity, had taken its place. His large feet were incased in good,

square-toed, soft-leather shoes; his stocky chest and fat legs were made

somewhat agreeable to the eye by a well-cut suit of brownish-gray cloth;

and his neck was now surrounded by a low, wing-point white collar and

brown-silk tie. His ample chest, which spread out a little lower in

around and constantly enlarging stomach, was ornamented by a heavy-link

gold chain, and his white cuffs had large gold cuff-buttons set with

rubies of a very notable size. He was rosy and decidedly well fed. In

fact, he was doing very well indeed.

He had moved his family from a shabby two-story frame house in South

Ninth Street to a very comfortable brick one three stories in height,

and three times as large, on Spring Garden Street. His wife had a

few acquaintances--the wives of other politicians. His children were

attending the high school, a thing he had hardly hoped for in earlier

days. He was now the owner of fourteen or fifteen pieces of cheap real

estate in different portions of the city, which might eventually become

very valuable, and he was a silent partner in the South Philadelphia

Foundry Company and the American Beef and Pork Company, two corporations

on paper whose principal business was subletting contracts secured

from the city to the humble butchers and foundrymen who would carry out

orders as given and not talk too much or ask questions.

"Well, that is an odd name," said Cowperwood, blandly. "So he has it? I

never thought that road would pay, as it was laid out. It's too short.

It ought to run about three miles farther out into the Kensington

section."

"You're right," said Stener, dully.

"Did Strobik say what Colton wants for his shares?"

"Sixty-eight, I think."

"The current market rate. He doesn't want much, does he? Well, George,

at that rate it will take about"--he calculated quickly on the basis

of the number of shares Cotton was holding--"one hundred and twenty

thousand to get him out alone. That isn't all. There's Judge Kitchen

and Joseph Zimmerman and Senator Donovan"--he was referring to the State

senator of that name. "You'll be paying a pretty fair price for that

stud when you get it. It will cost considerable more to extend the line.

It's too much, I think."

Cowperwood was thinking how easy it would be to combine this line with

his dreamed-of Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, and after a time

and with this in view he added:

"Say, George, why do you work all your schemes through Strobik and

Harmon and Wycroft? Couldn't you and I manage some of these things for

ourselves alone instead of for three or four? It seems to me that plan

would be much more profitable to you."

"It would, it would!" exclaimed Stener, his round eyes fixed on

Cowperwood in a rather helpless, appealing way. He liked Cowperwood and

had always been hoping that mentally as well as financially he could

get close to him. "I've thought of that. But these fellows have had more

experience in these matters than I have had, Frank. They've been longer

at the game. I don't know as much about these things as they do."

Cowperwood smiled in his soul, though his face remained passive.

"Don't worry about them, George," he continued genially and

confidentially. "You and I together can know and do as much as they ever

could and more. I'm telling you. Take this railroad deal you're in on

now, George; you and I could manipulate that just as well and better

than it can be done with Wycroft, Strobik, and Harmon in on it. They're

not adding anything to the wisdom of the situation. They're not putting

up any money. You're doing that. All they're doing is agreeing to see it

through the legislature and the council, and as far as the legislature

is concerned, they can't do any more with that than any one else

could--than I could, for instance. It's all a question of arranging

things with Relihan, anyhow, putting up a certain amount of money for

him to work with. Here in town there are other people who can reach the

council just as well as Strobik." He was thinking (once he controlled

a road of his own) of conferring with Butler and getting him to use his

influence. It would serve to quiet Strobik and his friends. "I'm not

asking you to change your plans on this North Pennsylvania deal. You

couldn't do that very well. But there are other things. In the future

why not let's see if you and I can't work some one thing together?

You'll be much better off, and so will I. We've done pretty well on the

city-loan proposition so far, haven't we?"

The truth was, they had done exceedingly well. Aside from what the

higher powers had made, Stener's new house, his lots, his bank-account,

his good clothes, and his changed and comfortable sense of life were

largely due to Cowperwood's successful manipulation of these city-loan

certificates. Already there had been four issues of two hundred thousand

dollars each. Cowperwood had bought and sold nearly three million

dollars' worth of these certificates, acting one time as a "bull" and

another as a "bear." Stener was now worth all of one hundred and fifty

thousand dollars.

"There's a line that I know of here in the city which could be made into

a splendidly paying property," continued Cowperwood, meditatively,

"if the right things could be done with it. Just like this North

Pennsylvania line, it isn't long enough. The territory it serves isn't

big enough. It ought to be extended; but if you and I could get it, it

might eventually be worked with this North Pennsylvania Company or some

other as one company. That would save officers and offices and a lot

of things. There is always money to be made out of a larger purchasing

power."

He paused and looked out the window of his handsome little hardwood

office, speculating upon the future. The window gave nowhere save into

a back yard behind another office building which had formerly been a

residence. Some grass grew feebly there. The red wall and old-fashioned

brick fence which divided it from the next lot reminded him somehow of

his old home in New Market Street, to which his Uncle Seneca used to

come as a Cuban trader followed by his black Portuguese servitor. He

could see him now as he sat here looking at the yard.

"Well," asked Stener, ambitiously, taking the bait, "why don't we get

hold of that--you and me? I suppose I could fix it so far as the money

is concerned. How much would it take?"

Cowperwood smiled inwardly again.

"I don't know exactly," he said, after a time. "I want to look into it

more carefully. The one trouble is that I'm carrying a good deal of the

city's money as it is. You see, I have that two hundred thousand dollars

against your city-loan deals. And this new scheme will take two or three

hundred thousand more. If that were out of the way--"

He was thinking of one of the inexplicable stock panics--those strange

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