Jennie Gerhardt - Драйзер Теодор (книги бесплатно без онлайн .txt) 📗

seemed to her that he had been a little different. If she could only say to him that she was not satisfied with the way she was living, and then

leave. But he himself had plainly indicated after his discovery of Vesta

that her feelings on that score could not matter so very much to him, since he thought the presence of the child would definitely interfere with his

ever marrying her. It was her presence he wanted on another basis. And

he was so forceful, she could not argue with him very well. She decided if she went it would be best to write a letter and tell him why. Then maybe

when he knew how she felt he would forgive her and think nothing more

about it.

The condition of the Gerhardt family was not improving. Since Jennie

had left Martha had married. After several years of teaching in the public schools of Cleveland she had met a young architect, and they were united

after a short engagement. Martha had been always a little ashamed of her

family, and now, when this new life dawned, she was anxious to keep the

connection as slight as possible. She barely notified the members of the

family of the approaching marriage—Jennie not at all—and to the actual

ceremony she invited only Bass and George. Gerhardt, Veronica, and

William resented the slight. Gerhardt ventured upon no comment. He had

had too many rebuffs. But Veronica was angry. She hoped that life would

give her an opportunity to pay her sister off. William, of course, did not mind particularly. He was interested in the possibilities of becoming an

electrical engineer, a career which one of his school-teachers had pointed out to him as being attractive and promising.

Jennie heard of Martha's marriage after it was all over, a note from

Veronica giving her the main details. She was glad from one point of

view, but realised that her brothers and sisters were drifting away from

her.

A little while after Martha's marriage Veronica and William went to reside with George, a break which was brought about by the attitude of Gerhardt

himself. Ever since his wife's death and the departure of the other

children he had been subject to moods of profound gloom, from which he

was not easily aroused. Life, it seemed, was drawing to a close for him,

although he was only sixty-five years of age. The earthly ambitions he

had once cherished were gone for ever. He saw Sebastian, Martha, and

George out in the world practically ignoring him, contributing nothing at all to a home which should never have taken a dollar from Jennie.

Veronica and William were restless. They objected to leaving school and

going to work, apparently preferring to live on money which Gerhardt

had long since concluded was not being come by honestly. He was now

pretty well satisfied as to the true relations of Jennie and Lester. At first he had believed them to be married, but the way Lester had neglected

Jennie for long periods, the humbleness with which she ran at his beck

and call, her fear of telling him about Vesta—somehow it all pointed to

the same thing. She had not been married at home. Gerhardt had never

had sight of her marriage certificate. Since she was away she might have

been married, but he did not believe it.

The real trouble was that Gerhardt had grown intensely morose and

crotchety, and it was becoming impossible for young people to live with

him. Veronica and William felt it. They resented the way in which he took charge of the expenditures after Martha left. He accused them of spending too much on clothes and amusements, he insisted that a smaller house

should be taken, and he regularly sequestered a part of the money which

Jennie sent, for what purpose they could hardly guess. As a matter of fact, Gerhardt was saving as much as possible in order to repay Jennie

eventually. He thought it was sinful to go on in this way, and this was his one method, outside of his meagre earnings, to redeem himself. If his

other children had acted rightly by him he felt that he would not now be

left in his old age the recipient of charity from one, who, despite her other good qualities, was certainly not leading a righteous life. So they

quarrelled.

It ended one winter month when George agreed to receive his

complaining brother and sister on condition that they should get

something to do. Gerhardt was nonplussed for a moment, but invited

them to take the furniture and go their way. His generosity shamed them

for the moment; they even tentatively invited him to come and live with

them, but this he would not do. He would ask the foreman of the mill he

watched for the privilege of sleeping in some out- of-the-way garret. He

was always liked and trusted. And this would save him a little money.

So in a fit of pique he did this, and there was seen the spectacle of an old man watching through a dreary season of nights, in a lonely trafficless

neighbourhood while the city pursued its gaiety elsewhere. He had a wee

small corner in the topmost loft of a warehouse away from the tear and

grind of the factory proper. Here Gerhardt slept by day. In the afternoon he would take a little walk, strolling toward the business centre, 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 would return, taking his stand at the

lonely gate which was his post of duty. 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 a

peculiarly subtle and sombre character. What was this thing—life? What

did it all come to after the struggle, and the worry, and the grieving?

Where does it all go to? People die; you hear nothing more from them.

His wife, now, she had gone. Where had her spirit taken its flight?

Yet he continued to hold some strongly dogmatic convictions. He

believed there was a hell, and that people who sinned would go there.

How about Mrs. Gerhardt? How about Jennie? He believed that both had

sinned woefully. He believed that the just would be rewarded in heaven.

But who were the just? Mrs. Gerhardt had not had a bad heart. Jennie was

the soul of generosity. Take his son Sebastian. Sebastian was a good boy, but he was cold, and certainly indifferent to his father. Take Martha—she was ambitious, but obviously selfish. Somehow the children outside of

Jennie, seemed self-centred. Bass walked off when he got married, and

did nothing more for anybody. Martha insisted that she needed all she

made to live on. George had contributed for a little while, but had finally refused to help out. Veronica and William had been content to live on

Jennie's money so long as he would allow it, and yet they knew it was not right. His very existence, was it not a commentary on the selfishness of

his children? And he was getting so old. He shook his head. Mystery of

mysteries. Life was truly strange, and dark, and uncertain. Still he did not want to go and live with any of his children. Actually they were not

worthy of him—none but Jennie, and she was not good. So he grieved.

This woeful condition of affairs was not made known to Jennie for some

time. She had been sending her letters to Martha, but, on her leaving,

Jennie had been writing directly to Gerhardt. After Veronica's departure

Gerhardt wrote to Jennie saying that there was no need of sending any

more money. Veronica and William were going to live with George. He