The Stoic - Theodore Dreiser

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a mockery, this great house, with its galleries of paintings and sculpture and tapestries! For Cowperwood, her husband, so rarely came. And when he did come, always so cautious, though pretending affection before the servants. And they naturally subservient to him as her superior, as in truth he was because of his power to dispose of everything that was here maintained by him. And if she chose to scoff or rebel, how suave and winsome he could be, taking her hand or touching her arm gently, and saying: “But, Aileen, you must remember! You are and always will be Mrs. Frank Cowperwood, and as such you must do your part!”

      And if for the moment she raged or wept, eyes filling and lips trembling, or hurried from his presence in a storm of emotion, he would follow her, and after a long argument or subtle appeal bring her to his point of view. Or failing that, he might send her flowers or suggest that after dinner they go together to the opera—a concession which almost invariably betrayed her vain and weak soul. For to appear with him in public: did not that, in part at least, prove that she was still his wife, the ch^atelaine of his home?

      Chapter 11

      De Sota Sippens, departing for London with such assistants as he needed, took a house in Knightsbridge when he arrived there, and proceeded to gather all the data he felt Cowperwood would require.

      One of the things that struck him at once was the fact that in connection with two oldest undergrounds—the Metropolitan Railway and the District Railway, or Inner Circle, as it was called—there was a downtown loop, similar to that which had made the Cowperwood system of Chicago so useful to himself and so irritating and expensive to his rivals. These two London lines, the first of the world’s undergrounds, both badly built and operated by steam, actually enclosed and reached all of the principal downtown points, and so served as a key to the entire underground situation. Paralleling each other at a distance of about a mile, and joining at the ends in order to afford mutual running rights, they covered everything from Kensington and the Paddington Station on the west to Aldgate in the Bank of England district on the east. In fact, everything of any importance—the main streets, the theater district, the financial district, the shopping district, the great hotels, the railway stations, the houses of Parliament—was in this area.

      Sippens was quick to learn that these lines, due to their poor equipment and management, were paying little more than their expenses. But they could be made profitable, for there was as yet, apart from buses, no other such convenient route to these districts.

      Moreover, there was not only considerable public dissatisfaction with the old-fashioned steam service on these lines, but a distinct desire on the part of a younger financial element now entering the underground field to see them electrified and brought up to date. Among this element, and one of the principal minority shareholders in the District Railway, was Lord Stane, of whom Cowperwood had spoken. He was also one of the most prominent figures in the London social world.

      This picture of the situation, written at great length by Sippens, was sufficient to stir Cowperwood. The central loop idea, if seized upon now, and bolstered with franchises or acts for extensions into the outlying areas, would give him exactly the type of control which he needed to make him the head and center of any future development.

      And yet, unless he chose to dig into his own pockets, where was he to get the cash for all this? Probably a $100,000,000 eventually! He was at the moment dubious of inspiring a financial following which would furnish the capital, particularly since no one of the present London tubes appeared to be more than paying expenses. Certainly, this venture was a daring thing to consider at this time, and would have to be preceded and accompanied by an extremely subtle barrage of propaganda which would paint him in the best possible light.

      He thought over all of the important American financial leaders, and their institution and banks, principally in the east, to whom, by reason of past dealings, he could now appeal. It should be made plain that he desired the credit rather than any exorbitant financial profit. For Berenice was right: this last and greatest of his financial adventures, if it came to pass, should be on a higher level than any of his previous enterprises, and so atone for all sins coupled with his customary jugglery.

      In his heart, of course, he was by no means prepared to give over entirely his old tricks in connection with organizing and managing a traction development. Rather, since his schemes were not as well-known in England as in his own country, he was more than ever bent upon organizing a company for this and a company for that, one for each branch or existing system that was to be added or done over, the watered stocks of which would be sold to a gullible public. That was the way of such things. The public could always be hoodwinked into buying anything that was made to look sufficiently promising. It depended on the strength, respectability and stability that might be given to it by the proper associations. Having decided all this in his own mind, he at once cabled Sippens his thanks and instructions to remain in London pending further word.

      In the meantime, Berenice’s mother had arrived in Chicago and established a temporary m'enage, and both Berenice and Cowperwood, in their different ways, made clear to her what had happened and how from now on they were all to be joined in this new and possibly troublesome relationship. Although at first, and in the presence of Berenice, Mrs. Carter did indulge in some tears—based principally on self-criticism of her past, which, as she truly enough insisted, was the real cause of her daughter’s present course—nevertheless she was by no means so reduced as her quite unstable conscience at times made her believe. For, after all, she reflected, Cowperwood was a great man, and, as he himself now stated to her, Berenice would not only inherit a goodly portion of his estate, but if Aileen died, or granted him a divorce, he would most certainly marry her. For the present, he, of course, was to continue as before: as Mrs. Carter’s friend and the guardian of her daughter. Whatever happened, and whatever the rumours from time to time, this explanation was to be maintained. And to that end, their public contacts were to be as few and as conventional as possible. What he and Berenice might privately devise for themselves was their own affair, but they would never travel on the same boat or train, nor stop at the same hotel anywhere.

      As to London, Cowperwood fancied there might be considerable social life for all of them there, particularly since, if all went well, he expected to ally himself with the higher financial circles and possibly to use his connection with Berenice and her mother as a means of inducing a meeting of forces and friends most favorable to him at their home, since he was looking to Mrs. Carter to maintain such an establishment as would seem natural and proper for a widow and her daughter who were wealthy and of good repute.

      Berenice, of course, since originally this was her idea, was enthusiastic. And Mrs. Carter, as she listened to Cowperwood, regardless of her conception of him as ruthless and almost cruelly uncompromising where his personal comforts were concerned, was almost persuaded that all was for the best. Berenice had presented her own case in the most practical manner:

      “I really care for Frank, Mother,” she had said to her, “and I want to be with him as much as possible. He never tried to force me, you know; it was I who went to him, and it was I who suggested this. You know, it hasn’t seemed right to me for a long time, ever since I knew that the money we have been living on wasn’t yours but his, to take all and give nothing. And yet, I’ve been just as much of a coward as you have been, too selfish and thin-skinned to face life without anything, as would have been the case if he had left us.”

      “Oh, I know you’re right, Bevy,” said her mother, almost pleadingly. “Please don’t reproach me. I suffer so much as it is. Please don’t. It’s your future that I’ve always been thinking of.”

      “Please, Mother, please,” begged Berenice, softening toward her, for, after all, she loved her mother, foolish and errant as she had been. True, in her school days she had been inclined to belittle her mother’s taste, knowledge, and judgment. But now that she knew all, she had come to look on her mother in a different light, if by no means exempting her wholly, still forgiving and sympathizing with her in her present state. She made no more belittling or condescending remarks, but on the contrary gave her only kindness and understanding, as if she were trying to make up to her for the human ills that had befallen her.

      And so now she added, softly and soothingly: “You remember, Mother, I found out quickly enough, when I tried for myself to see what I could do, that I hadn’t

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