The drift of events for a period of five years carried Lester and Jennie still farther apart; they settled naturally into their respective spheres, without the renewal of the old time relationship which their several meetings at the Tremont at first seemed to foreshadow. Lester was in the thick of social and commercial affairs; he walked in paths to which Jennie’s retiring soul had never aspired. Jennie’s own existence was quiet and uneventful. There was a simple cottage in a very respectable but not showy neighbourhood near Jackson Park, on the South Side, where she lived in retirement with a little foster-child — a chestnut-haired girl taken from the Western Home for the Friendless — as her sole companion. Here she was known as Mrs. J. G. Stover, for she had deemed it best to abandon the name of Kane. Mr. and Mrs. Lester Kane when resident in Chicago were the occupants of a handsome mansion on the Lake Shore Drive, where parties, balls, receptions, dinners were given in rapid and at times almost pyrotechnic succession.
Lester, however, had become in his way a lover of a peaceful and well-entertained existence. He had cut from his list of acquaintances and associates a number of people who had been a little doubtful or overfamiliar or indifferent or talkative during a certain period which to him was a memory merely. He was a director, and in several cases the chairman of a board of directors, in nine of the most important financial and commercial organisations of the West — The United Traction Company of Cincinnati, The Western Crucible Company, The United Carriage Company, The Second National Bank of Chicago, the First National Bank of Cincinnati, and several others of equal importance. He was never a personal factor in the affairs of The United Carriage Company, preferring to be represented by counsel — Mr. Dwight L. Watson, but he took a keen interest in its affairs. He had not seen his brother Robert to speak to him in seven years. He had not seen Imogene, who lived in Chicago, in three. Louise, Amy, their husbands, and some of their closest acquaintances were practically strangers. The firm of Knight, Keatley & O’Brien had nothing whatever to do with his affairs.
The truth was that Lester, in addition to becoming a little phlegmatic, was becoming decidedly critical in his outlook on life. He could not make out what it was all about. In distant ages a queer thing had come to pass. There had started on its way in the form of evolution a minute cellular organism which had apparently reproduced itself by division, had early learned to combine itself with others, to organise itself into bodies, strange forms of fish, animals, and birds, and had finally learned to organise itself into man. Man, on his part, composed as he was of self-organising cells, was pushing himself forward into comfort and different aspects of existence by means of union and organisation with other men. Why? Heaven only knew. Here he was endowed with a peculiar brain and a certain amount of talent, and he had inherited a certain amount of wealth which he now scarcely believed he deserved, only luck had favoured him. But he could not see that any one else might be said to deserve this wealth any more than himself, seeing that his use of it was as conservative and constructive and practical as the next one’s. He might have been born poor, in which case he would have been as well satisfied as the next one — not more so. Why should he complain, why worry, why speculate?— the world was going steadily forward of its own volition, whether he would or no. Truly it was. And was there any need for him to disturb himself about it? There was not. He fancied at times that it might as well never have been started at all. “The one divine, far-off event” of the poet did not appeal to him as having any basis in fact. Mrs. Lester Kane was of very much the same opinion.
Jennie, living on the South Side with her adopted child, Rose Perpetua, was of no fixed conclusion as to the meaning of life. She had not the incisive reasoning capacity of either Mr. or Mrs. Lester Kane. She had seen a great deal, suffered a great deal, and had read some in a desultory way. Her mind had never grasped the nature and character of specialised knowledge. History, physics, chemistry, botany, geology, and sociology were not fixed departments in her brain as they were in Lester’s and Letty’s. Instead there was the feeling that the world moved in some strange, unstable way. Apparently no one knew clearly what it was all about. People were born and died. Some believed that the world had been made six thousand years before; some that it was millions of years old. Was it all blind chance, or was there some guiding intelligence — a God? Almost in spite of herself she felt there must be something — a higher power which produced all the beautiful things — the flowers, the stars, the trees, the grass. Nature was so beautiful! If at times life seemed cruel, yet this beauty still persisted. The thought comforted her; she fed upon it in her hours of secret loneliness.
It has been said that Jennie was naturally of an industrious turn. She liked to be employed, though she thought constantly as she worked. She was of matronly proportions in these days — not disagreeably large, but full-bodied, shapely, and smooth faced, in spite of her cares. Her eyes were grey and appealing. Her hair was still of a rich brown, but there were traces of grey in it. Her neighbours spoke of her as sweet-tempered, kindly, and hospitable. They knew nothing of her history, except that she had formerly resided in Sandwood, and before that in Cleveland. She was very reticent as to her past.
Jennie had fancied, because of her natural aptitude for taking care of sick people, that she might get to be a trained nurse. But she was obliged to abandon that idea, for she found that only young people were wanted. She also thought that some charitable organisation might employ her, but she did not understand the new theory of charity which was then coming into general acceptance and practice — namely, only to help others to help themselves. She believed in giving, and was not inclined to look too closely into the credentials of those who asked for help; consequently her timid inquiry at one relief agency after another met with indifference, if not unqualified rebuke. She finally decided to adopt another child for Rose Perpetua’s sake; she succeeded in securing a boy, four years old, who was known as Henry — Henry Stover. Her support was assured, for her income was paid to her through a trust company. She had no desire for speculation or for the devious ways of trade. The care of flowers, the nature of children, the ordering of a home were more in her province.
One of the interesting things in connection with this separation once it had been firmly established related to Robert and Lester, for these two since the reading of the will a number of years before had never met. Robert had thought of his brother often. He had followed his success, since he had left Jennie, with interest. He read of his marriage to Mrs. Gerald with pleasure; he had always considered her an ideal companion for his brother. He knew by many signs and tokens that his brother, since the unfortunate termination of their father’s attitude and his own peculiar movements to gain control of the Kane Company, did not like him. Still they had never been so far apart mentally — certainly not in commercial judgment. Lester was prosperous now. He could afford to be generous. He could afford to make up. And after all, he had done his best to aid his brother to come to his senses — and with the best intentions. There were mutual interests they could share financially if they were friends. He wondered from time to time if Lester would not be friendly with him.
Time passed, and then once, when he was in Chicago, he made the friends with whom he was driving purposely turn into the North Shore in order to see the splendid mansion which the Kanes occupied. He knew its location from hearsay and description.
When he saw it a touch of the old Kane home atmosphere came back to him. Lester in revising the property after purchase had had a conservatory built on one side not unlike the one at home in Cincinnati. That same night he sat down and wrote Lester asking if he would not like to dine with him at the union Club. He was only in town for a day or two, and he would like to see him again. There was some feeling, he knew, but there was a proposition he would like to talk to him about. Would he come, say, on Thursday?
On the receipt of this letter Lester frowned and fell into a brown study. He had never really been healed of the wound that his father had given him. He had never been comfortable in his mind since Robert had deserted him so summarily. He realised now that the stakes his brother had been playing for were big. But, after all, he had been his brother, and if he had been in Robert’s place at the time, he would not have done as he had done; at least he hoped not. Now Robert wanted to see him.
He thought once of not answering at all. Then he thought he would write and say no. But a curious desire to see Robert again, to hear what he had to say, to listen to the proposition he had to offer, came over him; he decided to write yes. It could do no harm. He knew it could do no good. They might agree to let by............