CHAPTER V
Having been led by circumstances into an attitude of obligation toward
the Senator, it was not unnatural that Jennie should become imbued with
a most generous spirit of appreciation for everything he had done and
now continued to do. The Senator gave her father a letter to a local mill owner, who saw that he received something to do. It was not much, to be
sure, a mere job as night-watchman, but it helped, and old Gerhardt's
gratitude was extravagant. Never was there such a great, such a good
man!
Nor was Mrs. Gerhardt overlooked. Once Brander sent her a dress, and at
another time a shawl. All these benefactions were made in a spirit of
mingled charity and self-gratification, but to Mrs. Gerhardt they glowed
with but one motive. Senator Brander was good-hearted.
As for Jennie, he drew nearer to her in every possible way, so that at last she came to see him in a light which would require considerable analysis
to make clear. This fresh, young soul, however, had too much innocence
and buoyancy to consider for a moment the world's point of view. Since
that one notable and halcyon visit upon which he had robbed her of her
original shyness, and implanted a tender kiss upon her cheek, they had
lived in a different atmosphere. Jennie was his companion now, and as he
more and more unbended, and even joyously flung aside the habiliments
of his dignity, her perception of him grew clearer. They laughed and
chatted in a natural way, and he keenly enjoyed this new entrance into the radiant world of youthful happiness.
One thing that disturbed him, however, was the occasional thought, which
he could not repress, that he was not doing right. Other people must soon discover that he was not confining himself strictly to conventional
relations, with this washer-woman's daughter. He suspected that the
housekeeper was not without knowledge that Jennie almost invariably
lingered from a quarter to three-quarters of an hour whenever she came
for or returned his laundry. He knew that it might come to the ears of the hotel clerks, and so, in a general way, get about town and work serious
injury, but the reflection did not cause him to modify his conduct.
Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was not doing
her any actual harm, and at other times he would argue that he could not
put this one delightful tenderness out of his life. Did he not wish honestly to do her much good?
He thought of these things occasionally, and decided that he could not
stop. The self-approval which such a resolution might bring him was
hardly worth the inevitable pain of the abnegation. He had not so very
many more years to live. Why die unsatisfied?
One evening he put his arm around her and strained her to his breast.
Another time he drew her to his knee, and told her of his life at
Washington. Always now he had a caress and a kiss for her, but it was
still in a tentative, uncertain way. He did not want to reach for her soul too deeply.
Jennie enjoyed it all innocently. Elements of fancy and novelty entered
into her life. She was an unsophisticated creature, emotional, totally
inexperienced in the matter of the affections, and yet mature enough
mentally to enjoy the attentions of this great man who had thus bowed
from his high position to make friends with her.
One evening she pushed his hair back from his forehead as she stood by
his chair, and, finding nothing else to do, took out his watch. The great man thrilled as he looked at her pretty innocence.
"Would you like to have a watch, too?" he asked.
"Yes, indeed, I would," said Jennie with a deep breath.
The next day he stopped as he was passing a jewellery store and bought
one. It was gold, and had pretty ornamented hands.
"Jennie," he said, when she came the next time, "I want to show you something. See what time it is by my watch."
Jennie drew out the watch from his waistcoat pocket and started in
surprise.
"This isn't your watch!" she exclaimed, her face full of innocent wonder.
"No," he said, delighted with his little deception. "It's yours."
"Mine!" exclaimed Jennie. "Mine! Oh, isn't it lovely!"
"Do you think so?" he said.
Her delight touched and pleased him immensely. Her face shone with
light and her eyes fairly danced.
"That's yours," he said. "See that you wear it now, and don't lose it."
"You're so good!" she exclaimed.
"No," he said, but he held her at arm's length by the waist to make up his mind what his reward should be. Slowly he drew her toward him until,
when very close, she put her arms about his neck, and laid her cheek in
gratitude against his own. This was the quintessence of pleasure for him.
He felt as he had been longing to feel for years.
The progress of his idyl suffered a check when the great senatorial fight came on in the Legislature. Attacked by a combination of rivals, Brander
was given the fight of his life. To his amazement he discovered that a
great railroad corporation, which had always been friendly, was secretly
throwing its strength in behalf of an already too powerful candidate.
Shocked by this defection, he was thrown alternately into the deepest
gloom and into paroxysms of wrath. These slings of fortune, however
lightly he pretended to receive them, never failed to lacerate him. It had been long since he had suffered a defeat—too long.
During this period Jennie received her earliest lesson in the vagaries of man. For two weeks she did not even see him, and one evening, after an
extremely comfortless conference with his leader, he met her with the
most chilling formality. When she knocked at his door he only troubled to open it a foot, exclaiming almost harshly: "I can't bother about the clothes to-night. Come to- morrow."
Jennie retreated, shocked and surprised by this reception. She did not
know what to think of it. He was restored on the instant to his far-off,
mighty throne, and left to rule in peace. Why should he not withdraw the
light of his countenance if it pleased him. But why—
A day or two later he repented mildly, but had no time to readjust matters.
His washing was taken and delivered with considerable formality, and he
went on toiling forgetfully, until at last he was miserably defeated by two votes. Astounded by this result, he lapsed into gloomy dejection of soul.
What was he to do now?
Into this atmosphere came Jennie, bringing with her the lightness and
comfort of her own hopeful disposition. Nagged to desperation by his
thoughts, Brander first talked to her to amuse himself; but soon his
distress imperceptibly took flight; he found himself actually smiling.
"Ah, Jennie," he said, speaking to her as he might have done to a child,
"youth is on your side. You possess the most valuable thing in life."
"Do I?"
"Yes, but you don't realise it. You never will until it is too late."
"I love that girl," he thought to himself that night. "I wish I could have her with me always."
But fortune had another fling for him to endure. It got about the hotel that Jennie was, to use the mildest expression, conducting herself strangely. A girl who carries washing must expect criticism if anything not befitting