“Madam, this has just been delivered at the door for you.”
And although at first she gestured as if to wave him away, he had no more than turned his back, when she exclaimed: “Give it to me!” And then, tearing it open, she read:
Aileen, I am dying. When this reaches you, I will be no more. I know all my sins and all those you charge me with, and I blame only myself. But I cannot forget the Aileen who helped me through my prison days in Philadelphia. Yet it will not help me now, or either of us, to say I am sorry. But somehow, I feel that in the depths of your heart you will forgive me, once I am gone. Also it comforts me to know that you will be taken care of. I have arranged for all that, as you know. So now, good-by, Aileen! No more evil thoughts from your Frank, no more ever!
A conclusion on his part which caused Aileen to go forward to the casket and take his hands and kiss them. And then, after gazing at him for a moment, she turned and hurried away.
However, a few hours later, Carr, having been the recipient, through Jamieson and others, of various requests, was compelled to consult with Aileen concerning procedure in connection with the burial. The requests for permission to attend were so numerous that finally Carr was forced to bring forward a list of names, so long a list that it caused Aileen to say:
“Oh, let them come! What harm can it do now? Let Mr. Jamieson and Mr. Cowperwood’s son and daughter arrange everything as they please. I will keep to my room, as I am not well enough to help in any way.”
“But, Mrs. Cowperwood, wouldn’t you be willing to have a minister present to pronounce the last rites?” asked Carr, a suggestion that had been made by Dr. James, but which fitted Carr’s religious nature.
“Oh, yes, let one come. It can do no harm,” said Aileen, as her thoughts wandered back to the extreme religiosity of her parents. “But limit the number of those who are to come here to fifty, no more”—a decision which caused Carr to get in immediate touch with Jamieson and Cowperwood’s son and daughter, in order to inform them that they were to go ahead with such funeral arrangements as they felt appropriate. This news, reaching Dr. James’ ears, caused him to heave a sigh of relief, at the same time that he proceeded to have the many admirers of Cowperwood informed of this fact.
Chapter 72
Among the friends of Cowperwood who called at the mansion that same afternoon, and the morning following, those whose names were on Buckner Carr’s list were allowed to enter to view the body now lying in state in the spacious drawing room on the second floor. The others were advised to attend the tombside ceremonial at Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn the following day at 2 p.m.
In the meantime, Cowperwood’s son and daughter had called on Aileen, and it was arranged that they were to ride with her in the first mourner’s carriage. By that time, however, every New York newspaper was ablaze with the so-called sudden end of Cowperwood, who only six weeks before had arrived in New York. Because of his great number of friends, the articles stated, the funeral services would be attended by intimate friends of the family only: a statement which, however, did not deter many people from going out to the cemetery.
Accordingly, the next day at noon, the funeral cortege began forming in front of the Cowperwood mansion. Groups of people gathered on the streets outside to observe the spectacle. Following the hearse was the carriage containing Aileen, Frank A. Cowperwood, Jr., and Cowperwood’s daughter, Anna Templeton. And then, one by one, the other carriages moved into line, and proceeded along the highway, under an overcast sky, until finally they passed through the gates to Greenwood Cemetery. The gravel drive gradually mounted a long incline, bordered by heavy trees, behind which ranged stones and monuments of all descriptions. About a quarter of mile in, as the drive continued to rise, a roadway branched off to the right, and a few hundred feet farther on, between great trees, the tomb loomed solemnly high and majestic.
It stood alone, no other monument being within thirty feet of it, a gray, austere, and northern version of a Greek temple. Four graceful columns of modified Ionic design formed the “porch” and supported a plain triangular pediment, without decoration or religious symbol of any sort. Above the doors of the tomb, in heavy square-cut letters, was his name: FRANK ALGERNON COWPERWOOD. The three graduated platforms of granite were piled high with flowers, and the massive bronze double doors stood wide open, awaiting the arrival of the distinguished occupant. As all must have felt who viewed it for the first time, this was a severely impressive artistic achievement in the matter of design, for its tall and stately serenity seemed to dominate the entire area.
And as her carriage came into full view of the tomb, Aileen was again and finally impressed by her husband’s power of self-presentation. But even as she thought this, she closed her eyes, as if trying to shut out the sight of the tomb, and seeking to revive her last impression of him as he stood vividly alive and self-assertive before her. Her carriage waited until the hearse had reached the door of the tomb, and the heavy bronze casket was carried up and placed among the flowers, before the minister’s rostrum. Following that, the occupants of the carriages emerged and crossed over to a large marquee tent set up in front of the tomb, under the shelter of which benches and chairs awaited them.
In one of the carriages Berenice sat silently beside Dr. James, gazing at the tomb that was to seal her beloved away from her forever. Tears she could not cry, and would not. For why seek to oppose an avalanche which had already gone so far as to obliterate the import of life itself, for her? At any rate, such was her mood or reaction to all of this. However, a word that repeated itself over and over in her mind was the word “Endure! Endure! Endure!”
After all of the friends and relatives had settled themselves, the Episcopal clergyman, Reverend Hayward Crenshaw, came forward and took his place on the rostrum, and in a few moments, when all had become very quiet, he began to speak, his utterances grave and clear:
“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
“I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
“We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.
“Behold, thou hast made my days as it were a span long; and mine age is even as nothing in respect of thee; and verily every man living is altogether vanity.
“For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain: he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.
“And now, Lord, what is my hope: truly my hope is even in Thee.
“When thou with rebukes doth chasten man for sin. Thou makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment: every man therefore is but vanity.
“Lord, thou has been our refuge from one generation to another.
“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made; Thou art God from everlasting and world without end.
“Thou turnest man to destruction: again Thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.
“For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday; when it is past, and as a watch in the night.
“As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as asleep; and fade away suddenly like the grass.
“In the morning it is green, and groweth up; but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.
“For we consume away in Thy displeasure, and are afraid of Thy wrathful indignation.
“Thou hast set aside our misdeeds before Thee; and our secret sins in the light of Thy countenance.
“For when Thou art angry, all our days are gone; we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.
“The days of our age are three score years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to four score years; yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.
“O teach us to number our days: that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
