Jennie Gerhardt - Драйзер Теодор - Страница 36

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Jennie turned and stared at him. "His hands burned!" she exclaimed.

"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 cry now."

Then her own lips lost their evenness, and she struggled long before she

could pluck up courage to contemplate this new disaster. And now

without volition upon her part there leaped into her consciousness a new

and subtly persistent thought. What about Lester's offer of assistance

now? What about his declaration of love? Somehow it came back to her

—his affection, his personality, his desire to help her, his sympathy, so like that which Brander had shown when Bass was in jail. Was she

doomed to a second sacrifice? Did it really make any difference? Wasn't

her life a failure already? She thought this over as she looked at her

mother sitting there so silent, haggard, and distraught. "What a pity," she thought, "that her mother must always suffer! Wasn't it a shame that she could never have any real happiness?"

"I wouldn't feel so badly," she said, after a time. "Maybe pa isn't burned so badly as we think. Did the letter say he'd be home in the morning?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Gerhardt, recovering herself.

They talked more quietly from now on, and gradually, as the details were

exhausted, a kind of dumb peace settled down upon the household.

"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't mind."

"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 and her

mother saw the others off to bed, and then sat out in the kitchen talking.

"I don't see what's to become of us now," said Mrs. Gerhardt at last, completely overcome by the financial complications which this new

calamity had brought about. She looked so weak and helpless that Jennie

could hardly contain herself.

"Don't worry, mamma dear," she said, softly, a peculiar resolve coming into her heart. The world was wide. There was comfort and ease in it

scattered by others with a lavish hand. Surely, surely misfortune could not press so sharply but that they could live!

She sat down with her mother, the difficulties of the future seeming 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 had

crumbled 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 will happen. We'll get something."

She realized, as she sat there, that fate had shifted the burden of the

situation to her. She must sacrifice herself; there was no other way.

Bass met his father at the railway station in the morning. He looked very pale, and seemed to have suffered a great deal. His cheeks were slightly

sunken and his bony profile appeared rather gaunt. His hands were

heavily bandaged, and altogether he presented such a picture of distress

that many stopped to look at him on the way home from the station.

"By chops," he said to Bass, "that was a burn I got. I thought once I couldn't stand the pain any longer. Such pain I had! Such pain! By chops!

I will never forget it."

He related just how the accident had occurred, and said that he did not

know whether he would ever be able to use his hands again. The thumb

on his right hand and the first two fingers on the left had been burned to the bone. The latter had been amputated at the first joint—the thumb he

might save, but his hands would be in danger of being stiff.

"By chops!" he added, "just at the time when I needed the money most.

Too bad! Too bad!"

When they reached the house, and Mrs. Gerhardt opened the door, the old

mill-worker, conscious of her voiceless sympathy, began to cry. Mrs.

Gerhardt sobbed also. Even Bass lost control of himself for a moment or

two, but quickly recovered. The other children wept, until Bass called a

halt on all of them.

"Don't cry now," he said cheeringly. "What's the use of crying? It isn't so bad as all that. You'll be all right again. We can get along."

Bass's words had a soothing effect, temporarily, and, now that her

husband was home, Mrs. Gerhardt recovered her composure. Though his

hands were bandaged, the mere fact that he could walk and was not

otherwise injured was some consolation. He might recover the use of his

hands and be able to undertake light work again. Anyway, they would

hope for the best.

When Jennie came home that night she wanted to run to her father and

lay the treasury of her services and affection at his feet, but she trembled lest he might be as cold to her as formerly.

Gerhardt, too, was troubled. Never had he completely recovered from the

shame which his daughter had brought upon him. Although he wanted to

be kindly, his feelings were so tangled that he hardly knew what to say or do.

"Papa," said Jennie, approaching him timidly.

Gerhardt looked confused and tried to say something natural, but it was

unavailing. The thought of his helplessness, the knowledge of her sorrow

and of his own responsiveness to her affection—it was all too much for

him; he broke down again and cried helplessly.

"Forgive me, papa," she pleaded, "I'm so sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry."

He did not attempt to look at her, but in the swirl of feeling that their meeting created he thought that he could forgive, and he did.

"I have prayed," he said brokenly. "It is all right."

When he recovered himself he felt ashamed of his emotion, but a new

relationship of sympathy and of understanding had been established.

From that time, although there was always a great reserve between them,

Gerhardt tried not to ignore her completely, and she endeavored to show

him the simple affection of a daughter, just as in the old days.

But while the household was again at peace, there were other cares and

burdens to be faced. How were they to get along now with five dollars

taken from the weekly budget, and with the cost of Gerhardt's presence

added? Bass might have contributed more of his weekly earnings, but he

did not feel called upon to do it. And so the small sum of nine dollars

weekly must meet as best it could the current expenses of rent, food, and coal, to say nothing of incidentals, which now began to press very

heavily. Gerhardt had to go to a doctor to have his hands dressed daily.

George needed a new pair of shoes. Either more money must come from

some source or the family must beg for credit and suffer the old tortures of want. The situation crystallized 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 money

on her? She finally decided that it was her duty to avail herself of this proffered assistance. She sat down and wrote him a brief note. She would

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