Theodore Dreiser Jennie Gerhardt; a novel

 
 

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CHAPTER LVI 
It is difficult to say whether Lester might not have returned to Jennie after 
all but for certain influential factors. After a time, with his control of his 
portion of the estate firmly settled in his hands and the storm of original 
feeling forgotten, he was well aware that diplomacy—if he ignored his 
natural tendency to fulfil even implied obligations—could readily bring about 
an arrangement whereby he and Jennie could be together. But he was 
haunted by the sense of what might be called an important social 
opportunity in the form of Mrs. Gerald. He was compelled to set over against 
his natural tendency toward Jennie a consciousness of what he was 
ignoring in the personality and fortunes of her rival, who was one of the 
most significant and interesting figures on the social horizon. For think as 
he would, these two women were now persistently opposed in his 
consciousness. The one polished, sympathetic, philosophic—schooled in all 
the niceties of polite society, and with the means to gratify her every wish; 
the other natural, sympathetic, emotional, with no schooling in the ways of 
polite society, but with a feeling for the beauty of life and the lovely things in 
human relationship which made her beyond any question an exceptional 
woman. Mrs. Gerald saw it and admitted it. Her criticism of Lester's 
relationship with Jennie was not that she was not worth while, but that 
conditions made it impolitic. On the other hand, union with her was an ideal 
climax for his social aspirations. This would bring everything out right. He 
would be as happy with her as he would be with Jennie—almost—and he 
would have the satisfaction of knowing that this Western social and 
financial world held no more significant figure than himself. It was not wise 
to delay either this latter excellent solution of his material problems, and 
after thinking it over long and seriously he finally concluded that he would 
not. He had already done Jennie the irreparable wrong of leaving her. What 
difference did it make if he did this also? She was possessed of everything 
she could possibly want outside of himself. She had herself deemed it 
advisable for him to leave. By such figments of the brain, in the face of 
unsettled and disturbing conditions, he was becoming used to the idea of a 
new alliance. 
The thing which prevented an eventual resumption of relationship in some 
form with Jennie was the constant presence of Mrs. Gerald. Circumstances 
conspired to make her the logical solution of his mental quandary at this 
time. Alone he could do nothing save to make visits here and there, and he 
did not care to do that. He was too indifferent mentally to gather about him 
as a bachelor that atmosphere which he enjoyed and which a woman like 
Mrs. Gerald could so readily provide. United with her it was simple enough. 
Their home then, wherever it was, would be full of clever people. He would 
need to do little save to appear and enjoy it. She understood quite as well as 

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any one how he liked to live. She enjoyed to meet the people he enjoyed 
meeting. There were so many things they could do together nicely. He visited 
West Baden at the same time she did, as she suggested. He gave himself 
over to her in Chicago for dinners, parties, drives. Her house was quite as 
much his own as hers—she made him feel so. She talked to him about her 
affairs, showing him exactly how they stood and why she wished him to 
intervene in this and that matter. She did not wish him to be much alone. 
She did not want him to think or regret. She came to represent to him 
comfort, forgetfulness, rest from care. With the others he visited at her 
house occasionally, and it gradually became rumored about that he would 
marry her. Because of the fact that there had been so much discussion of 
his previous relationship, Letty decided that if ever this occurred it should 
be a quiet affair. She wanted a simple explanation in the papers of how it 
had come about, and then afterward, when things were normal again and 
gossip had subsided, she would enter on a dazzling social display for his 
sake. 
"Why not let us get married in April and go abroad for the summer?" she 
asked once, after they had reached a silent understanding that marriage 
would eventually follow. "Let's go to Japan. Then we can come back in the 
fall, and take a house on the drive." 
Lester had been away from Jennie so long now that the first severe wave of 
self-reproach had passed. He was still doubtful, but he preferred to stifle his 
misgivings. "Very well," he replied, almost jokingly. "Only don't let there be 
any fuss about it." 
"Do you really mean that, sweet?" she exclaimed, looking over at him; they 
had been spending the evening together quietly reading and chatting. 
"I've thought about it a long while," he replied. "I don't see why not." 
She came over to him and sat on his knee, putting her arms upon his 
shoulders. 
"I can scarcely believe you said that," she said, looking at him curiously. 
"Shall I take it back?" he asked. 
"No, no. It's agreed for April now. And we'll go to Japan. You can't change 
your mind. There won't be any fuss. But my, what a trousseau I will 
prepare!" 
He smiled a little constrainedly as she tousled his head; there was a missing 
note somewhere in this gamut of happiness; perhaps it was because he was 
getting old.