to see me in New York when you can. I’ll be waiting to see you again.” Picking up his bag, he added: “Well, friends, boats wait for no man!” and with that he smiled and again shook hands, finally merging with the throng now boarding the boat.
Chapter 64
Now that Dr. James was gone, Cowperwood was faced with many labors which had accumulated during his absence. These would require months of concentrated energy and attention, the while he found it necessary to turn to certain phases of his personal problems, one of which was a letter from Aileen, in which she stated that while the alterations being made in the new addition were going forward under the supervision of Pyne, the architect, she felt that Cowperwood should return to New York as soon as possible in order to look the whole plan over, so that he could either approve or disapprove before it was too late. She was not sure there would be space enough in the new gallery for the pictures he had recently added to his collection. While she respected Mr. Cuthbert’s opinion as an art expert, there were times when she felt that Cowperwood would disagree wholeheartedly with him if he were present.
Cowperwood realized that this was something that deserved his attention. Still, at this particular time he felt he could ill afford a trip to New York. There were too many urgent matters of policy and practical details concerning the underground that demanded his personal supervision. Of course, Lord Stane, who was frequently about, assured him of the now probably smooth future of the entire system, and by his interest and efforts succeeded in lessening the former friction among the varied interests. Stane seemed to be very much relieved and pleased at his recovery.
“Well, Cowperwood,” he said to him the first morning after his return, “you look as good as new. How did you do it?”
“I didn’t do it,” replied Cowperwood. “It was all the work of my old friend, Jeff James. He’s pulled me out of a few illnesses in the past, but this time he pulled me out of a financial jam as well.”
“You’re right there,” said Stane. “You certainly fooled the public in a masterly fashion.”
“That was Jeff’s brilliant idea. He not only took me on the trip to allay suspicion and rumor, but he cured me en route,” said Cowperwood.
Another matter that compelled his personal attention at this time was the discussion with Rexford Lynnwood, one of the three American sculptors whose names had been suggested by Jamieson regarding the tomb he proposed to have built. Lynnwood’s qualifications appealed to Cowperwood because of the fact that in connection with a prize recently offered for a tomb and statue to mark the grave of a lately deceased governor of one of the southern states, his design carried on one of its surfaces a reproduction of the cabin in which the man had been born, and at the foot of a huge, moss-covered oak tree was drawn the outline of a horse which he had ridden in various battles of the Civil War. As Cowperwood looked at it, he was touched by the pathos and simplicity of the whole conception.
Later as he sat opposite Lynnwood on the other side of his massive working desk, he was struck by the man’s classic features, his deep-set eyes, and tall angular figure. In fact, he immediately liked the fellow.
As Cowperwood explained to Lynnwood, his idea for the tomb leaned toward the Greco-Roman style of architecture, but not in its purest conception. Rather, he would like it to be a modification, with some originality of design in its details. It was to be large, because he had always liked the idea of space, and was to be made of pebble-gray granite of rich texture. He would like a narrow slit of a window at one end, and a place for two sarcophagi, with two heavy bronze doors opening into the tomb itself. Lynnwood approved and was even delighted with the opportunity of executing this structure. He drew several sketches as Cowperwood talked, and these pleased Cowperwood greatly. A contract was agreed upon and he was instructed to begin work at once. As Lynnwood began gathering his designs and placing them in his portfolio, he paused and looked at Cowperwood.
“Well, Mr. Cowperwood,” he said as he was leaving, “judging from the way you look, I’m sure it will be a long time before you will be needing this. At least, I sincerely hope so.”
“Well, thank you very much,” said Cowperwood, “But don’t count on that.”
Chapter 65
During this time Cowperwood lived principally in the agreeable thought of returning, at the end of the day, to Pryor’s Cove and Berenice. For the first time in years he was enjoying the simplicities of a genuine home, a place which, because of the spirit with which Berenice infused it, caused anything and everything from a game of checkers to a short walk along the Thames to seem rich in color and feeling and make him wish that it would go on forever. Even growing old would not be such an ordeal if it could be passed under such circumstances.
Yet one afternoon, about five months after his return to business, as he sat in his office preparing a note for Aileen, he was suddenly seized with the sharpest pain of any thus far experienced in connection with his illness. It was not unlike a sharp knife being pushed and turned in the region of his left kidney, and from there it seemed to leap to his heart. When he attempted to get up from his chair, he was unable to do so. In fact, as at Tregasal, his breath seemed to fail him, and he could not move. But in a few moments the pain lessened and he was able to reach over to a push button to summon Jamieson. As he was about to press the button, however, he drew back his hand and decided that perhaps this was simply one of those acute pains he had been warned to expect, and which he had been assured would not be fatal. And so he sat for a few moments, extremely reduced by the plain evidence that he was not cured, and fearing this might be the way it would eventually end. And what was worse, he had no one to confide in. For word as to this would bring back his public situation exactly where it had been before. And Berenice! Stane! Aileen! The newspapers! And more and more days in bed!
One thing he thought he should do was to return to New York. For there he would be close to Dr. James, and also he could see Aileen again and go over the problems that were troubling her. If he were going to die, there were things that should be put in order. As for Berenice, he could explain to her his need without telling her all in regard to this latest attack, and have her also return to New York.
After arriving at this decision he very cautiously rose from his chair, and a few hours later was able to return to Pryor’s Cove, pretending that there was nothing wrong in any way. However, after dinner, Berenice, who was in a particularly pleasant frame of mind, asked him if everything was going all right.
“Well, no, not exactly,” he replied. “I had a letter from Aileen complaining about conditions in New York: the work on the house, and that sort of thing. She thinks there isn’t sufficient room being left for the pictures I’ve added to the collection. And some of the dealers who have looked in on the alterations seem to agree with her, regardless of Pyne’s opinion. I’m beginning to feel that I should go over, not only for that reason, but also to look after some of the follow-ups in connection with the loans that were made to me when I was there last.”
“Are you sure you are strong enough to undertake the trip?” asked Berenice, a look of anxiety in her eyes.
“Quite,” replied Cowperwood. “As a matter of fact, I am feeling better than I have been for months. And I cannot go too long without contact with New York.”
“What about me?” she inquired, in a troubled tone.
“Why, you will go with me, and, for convenience sake, you can stay at the Waldorf when you get there, incognito, of course,”—a reply that modified the look of distress in her face.
“But on different boats, as usual?”
“Unfortunately, that would be the best way, hard as it is for me to even think of it. You know so well, dear, the danger of publicity.”
“Yes, I know. I understand how you feel about it. If you have to go, you must, and I’ll be right behind you on the next boat. When do we go?”
“Jamieson tells me the next boat sails Wednesday. Can you get ready by then?”
“I could be ready tomorrow if it were necessary,” replied Berenice.
