Her aggressive lover, however, was not without his own conclusion in this matter. Since leaving Jennie he had thought concisely and to the point. He came to the decision that he must act at once. She might tell her family, she might tell Mrs. Bracebridge, she might leave the city. He wanted to know more of the conditions which surrounded her, and there was only one way to do that — talk to her. He must persuade her to come and live with him. She would, he thought. She admitted that she liked him. That soft, yielding note in her character which had originally attracted him seemed to presage that he could win her without much difficulty, if he wished to try. He decided to do so, anyhow, for truly he desired her greatly.
At half-past five he returned to the Bracebridge home to see if she were still there. At six he had an opportunity to say to her, unobserved, “I am going to walk home with you. Wait for me at the next corner, will you?”
“Yes,” she said, a sense of compulsion to do his bidding seizing her. She explained to herself afterward that she ought to talk to him, that she must tell him finally of her decision not to see him again, and this was as good an opportunity as any. At half-past six he left the house on a pretext — a forgotten engagement — and a little after seven he was waiting for her in a closed carriage near the appointed spot. He was calm, absolutely satisfied as to the result, and curiously elated beneath a sturdy, shock-proof exterior. It was as if he breathed some fragrant perfume, soft, grateful, entrancing.
A few minutes after eight he saw Jennie coming along. The flare of the gas-lamp was not strong, but it gave sufficient light for his eyes to make her out. A wave of sympathy passed over him, for there was a great appeal in her personality. He stepped out as she neared the corner and confronted her. “Come,” he said, “and get in this carriage with me. I’ll take you home.”
“No,” she replied. “I don’t think I ought to.”
“Come with me. I’ll take you home. It’s a better way to talk.”
Once more that sense of dominance on his part, that power of compulsion. She yielded, feeling all the time that she should not; he called out to the cabman, “Anywhere for a little while.” When she was seated beside him he began at once.
“Listen to me, Jennie, I want you. Tell me something about yourself.”
“I have to talk to you,” she replied, trying to stick to her original line of defence.
“About what?” he inquired, seeking to fathom her expression in the half light.
“I can’t go on this way,” she murmured nervously. “I can’t act this way. You don’t know how it all is. I shouldn’t have done what I did this morning. I mustn’t see you any more. Really I mustn’t.”
“You didn’t do what you did this morning,” he remarked, paradoxically, seizing on that one particular expression. “I did that. And as for seeing me any more, I’m going to see you.” He seized her hand. “You don’t know me, but I like you. I’m crazy about you, that’s all. You belong to me. Now listen. I’m going to have you. Are you going to come to me?”
“No, no, no!” she replied in an agonised voice. “I can’t do anything like that, Mr. Kane. Please listen to me. It can’t be. You don’t know. Oh, you don’t know. I can’t do what you want. I don’t want to. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. You don’t know how things are. But I don’t want to do anything wrong. I mustn’t. I can’t. I won’t. Oh, no! no!! no!!! Please let me go home.”
He listened to this troubled, feverish outburst with sympathy, with even a little pity.
“What do you mean by you can’t?” he asked, curiously.
“Oh, I can’t tell you,” she replied. “Please don’t ask me. You oughtn’t to know. But I mustn’t see you any more. It won’t do any good.”
“But you like me,” he retorted.
“Oh yes, yes, I do. I can’t help that. But you mustn’t come near me any more. Please don’t.”
He turned his proposition over in his mind with the solemnity of a judge. He knew that this girl liked him — loved him really, brief as their contact had been. And he was drawn to her, perhaps not irrevocably, but with exceeding strength. What prevented her from yielding, especially since she wanted to? He was curious.
“See here, Jennie,” he replied. “I hear what you say. I don’t know what you mean by ‘can’t’ if you want to. You say you like me. Why can’t you come to me? You’re my sort. We will get along beautifully together. You’re suited to me temperamentally. I’d like to have you with me. What makes you say you can’t come?”
“I can’t,” she replied. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I oughtn’t. Oh, please don’t ask me any more. You don’t know. I can’t tell you why.” She was thinking of her baby.
The man had a keen sense of justice and fair play. Above all things he wanted to be decent in his treatment of people. In this case he intended to be tender and considerate, and yet he must win her. He turned this over in his mind.
“Listen to me,” he said finally, still holding her hand. “I may not want you to do anything immediately. I want you to think it over. But you belong to me. You say you care for me. You admitted that this morning. I know you do. Now why should you stand out against me? I like you, and I can do a lot of things for you. Why not let us be good friends now? Then we can talk the rest of this over later.”
“But I mustn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t want to. Please don’t come near me any more. I can’t do what you want.”
“Now, look here,” he said. “You don’t mean that. Why did you say you liked me? Have you changed your mind? Look at me.” (She had lowered her eyes.) “Look at me! You haven’t, have you?”
“Oh no, no, no,” she half sobbed, swept by some force beyond her control.
“Well, then, why stand out against me? I love you, I tell you — I’m crazy about you. That’s why I came back this time. It was to see you!”
“Was it?” asked Jennie, surprised.
“Yes, it was. And I would have come again and again if necessary. I tell you I’m crazy about you. I’ve got to have you. Now tell me you’ll come with me.”
“No, no, no,” she pleaded. “I can’t. I must work. I want to work. I don’t want to do anything wrong. Please don’t ask me. You mustn’t. You must let me go. Really you must. I can’t do what you want.”
“Tell me, Jennie,” he said, changing the subject. “What does your father do?”
“He’s a glass-blower.”
“Here in Cleveland?”
“No, he works in Youngstown.”
“Is your mother alive?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You live with her?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled at the “sir.”
“Don’t say ‘sir’ to me, sweet!” he pleaded in his gruff way. “And don’t insist on the MR. Kane. I’m not ‘mister’ to you any more. You belong to me, little girl, me.” And he pulled her close to him.
“Please don’t, Mr. Kane,” she pleaded. “Oh, please don’t. I can’t! I can’t! You mustn’t.”
But he sealed her lips with his own.
“Listen to me, Jennie,” he repeated, using his favourite expression. “I tell you you belong to me. I like you better every moment. I haven’t had a chance to know you. I’m not going to give you up. You’ve got to come to me eventually. And I’m not going to have you working as a lady’s maid. You can’t stay in that place except for a little while. I’m going to take you somewhere else. And I’m going to leave you some money, do you hear? You have to take it.”
At the word money she quailed and withdrew her hand.
“No, no, no!” she repeated. “No, I won’t take it.”
“Yes, you will. Give it to your mother. I’m not trying to buy you. I know what you think. But I’m not. I want to help you. I want to help your family. I know where you live. I saw the place today. How many are there of you?”
“Six,” she answered faintly.
“The families of the poor,” he thought.
“Well, you take this from me,” he insisted, drawing a purse from his coat. “And I’ll see you very soon again. There’s no escape, sweet.”
“No, no,” she protested. “I won’t. I don’t need it. No, you mustn’t ask me.”
He insisted further, but she was firm, and finally he put the money away.
“One thing is sure, Jennie, you’re not going to escape me,” he said soberly. “You’ll have to come to me eventually. Don’t you know you will? Your own attitude shows that. I’m not going to leave you alone.”
“Oh, if you knew the trouble you’re causing me.”
“I’m not causing you any real trouble, am I?” he asked. “Surely not.”
“Yes. I can never do what you want.”
“You will! You will!” he exclaimed eagerly, the bare thought of this prize escaping him heightening his passion. “You’ll come to me.” And he drew her close in spite of all her protests.
“There,” he said when, after the struggle, that mystic something between them spoke again, and she relaxed. Tears were in her eyes, but he did not see them. “Don’t you see how it is? You like me too.”
“I can’t,” she repeated, with a sob.
Her evident distress touched him. “You’re not crying, little girl, are you?” he asked.
She made no answer.
“I’m sorry,” he went on. “I’ll not say anything more to-night. We’re almost at your home. I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’ll see you again. Yes, I will, sweet. I can’t give you up now. I’ll do anything in reason to make it easy for you, but I can’t, do you hear?”
She shook her head.
“Here’s where you get out,” he said, as the carriage drew up near the corner. He could see the evening lamp gleaming behind the Gerhardt cottage curtains.
“Good-bye,” he said as she stepped out.
“Good-bye,” she murmured.
“Remember,” he said, “this is just the beginning.”
“Oh no, no!” she pleaded.
He looked after her as she walked away.
“The beauty!” he exclaimed.
Jennie stepped into the house weary, discouraged, ashamed. What had she done? There was no denying that she had compromised herself irretrievably. He would come back.
He would come back. And he had offered her money. That was the worst of all.
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