________________________________________________
_ After his first visit to the bank over which Addison presided, and
an informal dinner at the latter's home, Cowperwood had decided
that he did not care to sail under any false colors so far as
Addison was concerned. He was too influential and well connected.
Besides, Cowperwood liked him too much. Seeing that the man's
leaning toward him was strong, in reality a fascination, he made
an early morning call a day or two after he had returned from
Fargo, whither he had gone at Mr. Rambaud's suggestion, on his way
back to Philadelphia, determined to volunteer a smooth presentation
of his earlier misfortunes, and trust to Addison's interest to
make him view the matter in a kindly light. He told him the whole
story of how he had been convicted of technical embezzlement in
Philadelphia and had served out his term in the Eastern Penitentiary.
He also mentioned his divorce and his intention of marrying again.
Addison, who was the weaker man of the two and yet forceful in his
own way, admired this courageous stand on Cowperwood's part. It
was a braver thing than he himself could or would have achieved.
It appealed to his sense of the dramatic. Here was a man who
apparently had been dragged down to the very bottom of things, his
face forced in the mire, and now he was coming up again strong,
hopeful, urgent. The banker knew many highly respected men in
Chicago whose early careers, as he was well aware, would not bear
too close an inspection, but nothing was thought of that. Some
of them were in society, some not, but all of them were powerful.
Why should not Cowperwood be allowed to begin all over? He looked
at him steadily, at his eyes, at his stocky body, at his smooth,
handsome, mustached face. Then he held out his hand.
"Mr. Cowperwood," he said, finally, trying to shape his words
appropriately, "I needn't say that I am pleased with this interesting
confession. It appeals to me. I'm glad you have made it to me.
You needn't say any more at any time. I decided the day I saw you
walking into that vestibule that you were an exceptional man; now
I know it. You needn't apologize to me. I haven't lived in this
world fifty years and more without having my eye-teeth cut. You're
welcome to the courtesies of this bank and of my house as long as
you care to avail yourself of them. We'll cut our cloth as
circumstances dictate in the future. I'd like to see you come to
Chicago, solely because I like you personally. If you decide to
settle here I'm sure I can be of service to you and you to me.
Don't think anything more about it; I sha'n't ever say anything
one way or another. You have your own battle to fight, and I wish
you luck. You'll get all the aid from me I can honestly give you.
Just forget that you told me, and when you get your matrimonial
affairs straightened out bring your wife out to see us."
With these things completed Cowperwood took the train back to
Philadelphia.
"Aileen," he said, when these two met again--she had come to the
train to meet him--"I think the West is the answer for us. I went
up to Fargo and looked around up there, but I don't believe we
want to go that far. There's nothing but prairie-grass and Indians
out in that country. How'd you like to live in a board shanty,
Aileen," he asked, banteringly, "with nothing but fried rattlesnakes
and prairie-dogs for breakfast? Do you think you could stand that?"
"Yes," she replied, gaily, hugging his arm, for they had entered
a closed carriage; "I could stand it if you could. I'd go anywhere
with you, Frank. I'd get me a nice Indian dress with leather and
beads all over it and a feather hat like they wear, and--"
"There you go! Certainly! Pretty clothes first of all in a miner's
shack. That's the way."
"You wouldn't love me long if I didn't put pretty clothes first,"
she replied, spiritedly. "Oh, I'm so glad to get you back!"
"The trouble is," he went on, "that that country up there isn't
as promising as Chicago. I think we're destined to live in Chicago.
I made an investment in Fargo, and we'll have to go up there from
time to time, but we'll eventually locate in Chicago. I don't
want to go out there alone again. It isn't pleasant for me." He
squeezed her hand. "If we can't arrange this thing at once I'll
just have to introduce you as my wife for the present."
"You haven't heard anything more from Mr. Steger?" she put in.
She was thinking of Steger's efforts to get Mrs. Cowperwood to
grant him a divorce.
"Not a word."
"Isn't it too bad?" she sighed.
"Well, don't grieve. Things might be worse."
He was thinking of his days in the penitentiary, and so was she.
After commenting on the character of Chicago he decided with her
that so soon as conditions permitted they would remove themselves
to the Western city.
It would be pointless to do more than roughly sketch the period
of three years during which the various changes which saw the
complete elimination of Cowperwood from Philadelphia and his
introduction into Chicago took place. For a time there were merely
journeys to and fro, at first more especially to Chicago, then to
Fargo, where his transported secretary, Walter Whelpley, was
managing under his direction the construction of Fargo business
blocks, a short street-car line, and a fair-ground. This interesting
venture bore the title of the Fargo Construction and Transportation
Company, of which Frank A. Cowperwood was president. His Philadelphia
lawyer, Mr. Harper Steger, was for the time being general master
of contracts.
For another short period he might have been found living at the
Tremont in Chicago, avoiding for the time being, because of Aileen's
company, anything more than a nodding contact with the important
men he had first met, while he looked quietly into the matter of
a Chicago brokerage arrangement--a partnership with some established
broker who, without too much personal ambition, would bring him a
knowledge of Chicago Stock Exchange affairs, personages, and Chicago
ventures. On one occasion he took Aileen with him to Fargo, where
with a haughty, bored insouciance she surveyed the state of the
growing city.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, when she saw the plain, wooden,
four-story hotel, the long, unpleasing business street, with its
motley collection of frame and brick stores, the gaping stretches of
houses, facing in most directions unpaved streets. Aileen in her
tailored spick-and-spanness, her self-conscious vigor, vanity, and
tendency to over-ornament, was a strange contrast to the rugged
self-effacement and indifference to personal charm which characterized
most of the men and women of this new metropolis. "You didn't
seriously think of coming out here to live, did you?"
She was wondering where her chance for social exchange would come
in--her opportunity to shine. Suppose her Frank were to be very
rich; suppose he did make very much money--much more than he had
ever had even in the past--what good would it do her here? In
Philadelphia, before his failure, before she had been suspected
of the secret liaison with him, he had been beginning (at least)
to entertain in a very pretentious way. If she had been his wife
then she might have stepped smartly into Philadelphia society.
Out here, good gracious! She turned up her pretty nose in disgust.
"What an awful place!" was her one comment at this most stirring
of Western boom towns.
When it came to Chicago, however, and its swirling, increasing
life, Aileen was much interested. Between attending to many
financial matters Cowperwood saw to it that she was not left alone.
He asked her to shop in the local stores and tell him about them;
and this she did, driving around in an open carriage, attractively
arrayed, a great brown hat emphasizing her pink-and-white complexion
and red-gold hair. On different afternoons of their stay he took
her to drive over the principal streets. When Aileen was permitted
for the first time to see the spacious beauty and richness of
Prairie Avenue, the North Shore Drive, Michigan Avenue, and the
new mansions on Ashland Boulevard, set in their grassy spaces, the
spirit, aspirations, hope, tang of the future Chicago began to
work in her blood as it had in Cowperwood's. All of these rich
homes were so very new. The great people of Chicago were all newly
rich like themselves. She forgot that as yet she was not Cowperwood's
wife; she felt herself truly to be so. The streets, set in most
instances with a pleasing creamish-brown flagging, lined with
young, newly planted trees, the lawns sown to smooth green grass,
the windows of the houses trimmed with bright awnings and hung
with intricate lace, blowing in a June breeze, the roadways a gray,
gritty macadam--all these things touched her fancy. On one drive
they skirted the lake on the North Shore, and Aileen, contemplating
the chalky, bluish-green waters, the distant sails, the gulls, and
then the new bright homes, reflected that in all certitude she
would some day be the mistress of one of these splendid mansions.
How haughtily she would carry herself; how she would dress! They
would have a splendid house, much finer, no doubt, than Frank's
old one in Philadelphia, with a great ball-room and dining-room
where she could give dances and dinners, and where Frank and she
would receive as the peers of these Chicago rich people.
"Do you suppose we will ever have a house as fine as one of these,
Frank?" she asked him, longingly.
"I'll tell you what my plan is," he said. "If you like this
Michigan Avenue section we'll buy a piece of property out here now
and hold it. Just as soon as I make the right connections here
and see what I am going to do we'll build a house--something really
nice--don't worry. I want to get this divorce matter settled, and
then we'll begin. Meanwhile, if we have to come here, we'd better
live rather quietly. Don't you think so?"
It was now between five and six, that richest portion of a summer
day. It had been very warm, but was now cooling, the shade of the
western building-line shadowing the roadway, a moted, wine-like
air filling the street. As far as the eye could see were carriages,
the one great social diversion of Chicago, because there was
otherwise so little opportunity for many to show that they had
means. The social forces were not as yet clear or harmonious.
Jingling harnesses of nickel, silver, and even plated gold were
the sign manual of social hope, if not of achievement. Here sped
homeward from the city--from office and manufactory--along this
one exceptional southern highway, the Via Appia of the South Side,
all the urgent aspirants to notable fortunes. Men of wealth who
had met only casually in trade here nodded to each other. Smart
daughters, society-bred sons, handsome wives came down-town in
traps, Victorias, carriages, and vehicles of the latest design to
drive home their trade-weary fathers or brothers, relatives or
friends. The air was gay with a social hope, a promise of youth
and affection, and that fine flush of material life that recreates
itself in delight. Lithe, handsome, well-bred animals, singly and
in jingling pairs, paced each other down the long, wide, grass-lined
street, its fine homes agleam with a rich, complaisant materiality.
"Oh!" exclaimed Aileen, all at once, seeing the vigorous, forceful
men, the handsome matrons, and young women and boys, the nodding
and the bowing, feeling a touch of the romance and wonder of it
all. "I should like to live in Chicago. I believe it's nicer
than Philadelphia."
Cowperwood, who had fallen so low there, despite his immense
capacity, set his teeth in two even rows. His handsome mustache
seemed at this moment to have an especially defiant curl. The
pair he was driving was physically perfect, lean and nervous, with
spoiled, petted faces. He could not endure poor horse-flesh. He
drove as only a horse-lover can, his body bolt upright, his own
energy and temperament animating his animals. Aileen sat beside
him, very proud, consciously erect.
"Isn't she beautiful?" some of the women observed, as they passed,
going north. "What a stunning young woman!" thought or said the
men.
"Did you see her?" asked a young brother of his sister. "Never
mind, Aileen," commented Cowperwood, with that iron determination
that brooks no defeat. "We will be a part of this. Don't fret.
You will have everything you want in Chicago, and more besides."
There was tingling over his fingers, into the reins, into the
horses, a mysterious vibrating current that was his chemical
product, the off-giving of his spirit battery that made his hired
horses prance like children. They chafed and tossed their heads
and snorted. Aileen was fairly bursting with hope and vanity
and longing. Oh, to be Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood here in
Chicago, to have a splendid mansion, to have her cards of invitation
practically commands which might not be ignored!
"Oh, dear!" she sighed to herself, mentally. "If only it were all
true--now."
It is thus that life at its topmost toss irks and pains. Beyond
is ever the unattainable, the lure of the infinite with its infinite
ache.
"Oh, life! oh, youth! oh, hope! oh, years! Oh pain-winged fancy,
beating forth with fears." _
Read next: chapter IV - Peter Laughlin & Co-
Read previous: chapter II - A Reconnoiter
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