The little town of Sandwood, “this side of Kenosha,” as Jennie had expressed it, was only a short distance from Chicago, an hour and fifteen minutes by the local train. It had a population of some three hundred families, dwelling in small cottages, which were scattered over a pleasant area of lake-shore property. They were not rich people. The houses were not worth more than from three to five thousand dollars each, but, in most cases, they were harmoniously constructed, and the surrounding trees, green for the entire year, gave them a pleasing summery appearance. Jennie, at the time they had passed by there — it was an outing taken behind a pair of fast horses — had admired the look of a little white church steeple, set down among the green trees, and the gentle rocking of the boats upon the summer water.
“I should like to live in a place like this some time,” she had said to Lester, and he had made the comment that it was a little too peaceful for him. “I can imagine getting to the place where I might like this, but not now. It’s too withdrawn.”
Jennie thought of that expression afterward. It came to her when she thought that the world was trying. If she had to be alone ever and could afford it she would like to live in a place like Sandwood. There she would have a little garden, some chickens, perhaps, a tall pole with a pretty bird-house on it, and flowers and trees and green grass everywhere about. If she could have a little cottage in a place like this which commanded a view of the lake she could sit of a summer evening and sew. Vesta could play about or come home from school. She might have a few friends, or not any. She was beginning to think that she could do very well living alone if it were not for Vesta’s social needs. Books were pleasant things — she was finding that out — books like Irving’s Sketch Book, Lamb’s Elia, and Hawthorne’s Twice Told Tales. Vesta was coming to be quite a musician in her way, having a keen sense of the delicate and refined in musical composition. She had a natural sense of harmony and a love for those songs and instrumental compositions which reflect sentimental and passionate moods, and she could sing and play quite well. Her voice was, of course, quite untrained — she was only fourteen — but it was pleasant to listen to. She was beginning to show the combined traits of her mother and father — Jennie’s gentle, speculative turn of mind, combined with Brander’s vivacity of spirit and innate executive capacity. She could talk to her mother in a sensible way about things, nature, books, dress, love, and from her developing tendencies Jennie caught keen glimpses of the new worlds which Vesta was to explore. The nature of modern school life, its consideration of various divisions of knowledge, music, science, all came to Jennie watching her daughter take up new themes. Vesta was evidently going to be a woman of considerable ability — not irritably aggressive, but self-constructive. She would be able to take care of herself. All this pleased Jennie and gave her great hopes for Vesta’s future.
The cottage which was finally secured at Sandwood was only a storey and a half in height, but it was raised upon red brick piers between which were set green lattices and about which ran a veranda. The house was long and narrow, its full length — some five rooms in a row — facing the lake. There was a dining-room with windows opening even with the floor, a large library with built-in shelves for books, and a parlour whose three large windows afforded air and sunshine at all times. The plot of ground in which this cottage stood was one hundred feet square and ornamented with a few trees. The former owner had laid out flower-beds, and arranged green hardwood tubs for the reception of various hardy plants and vines. The house was painted white, with green shutters and green shingles.
It had been Lester’s idea, since this thing must be, that Jennie might keep the house in Hyde Park just as it was, but she did not want to do that. She could not think of living there alone. The place was too full of memories. At first, she did not think she would take anything much with her, but she finally saw that it was advisable to do as Lester suggested — to fit out the new place with a selection of silverware, hangings, and furniture from the Hyde Park house.
“You have no idea what you will or may want,” he said. “Take everything. I certainly don’t want any of it.”
A lease of the cottage was taken for two years, together with an option for an additional five years, including the privilege of purchase. So long as he was letting her go, Lester wanted to be generous. He could not think of her as wanting for anything, and he did not propose that she should. His one troublesome thought was, what explanation was to be made to Vesta. He liked her very much and wanted her life kept free of complications.
“Why not send her off to a boarding-school until spring?” he suggested once; but owing to the lateness of the season this was abandoned as inadvisable. Later they agreed that business affairs made it necessary for him to travel and for Jennie to move. Later Vesta could be told that Jennie had left him for any reason she chose to give. It was a trying situation, all the more bitter to Jennie because she realised that in spite of the wisdom of it indifference to her was involved. He really did not care ENOUGH, as much as he cared.
The relationship of man and woman which we study so passionately in the hope of finding heaven knows what key to the mystery of existence holds no more difficult or trying situation than this of mutual compatibility broken or disrupted by untoward conditions which in themselves have so little to do with the real force and beauty of the relationship itself. These days of final dissolution in which this household, so charmingly arranged, the scene of so many pleasant activities, was literally going to pieces was a period of great trial to both Jennie and Lester. On her part it was one of intense suffering, for she was of that stable nature that rejoices to fix itself in a serviceable and harmonious relationship, and then stay so. For her life was made up of those mystic chords of sympathy and memory which bind up the transient elements of nature into a harmonious and enduring scene. One of those chords — this home was her home, united and made beautiful by her affection and consideration for each person and every object. Now the time had come when it must cease.
If she had ever had anything before in her life which had been like this it might have been easier to part with it now, though, as she had proved, Jennie’s affections were not based in any way upon ma............