In any woman. He was practical, methodic, orderly. His shoe At first, when Frank called, she did not have much to say.

store was a good one—well-stocked with styles reflecting the She was gracious, but the burden of conversation fell on her current tastes and a model of cleanliness and what one might husband. Cowperwood watched the varying expression of term pleasing brightness. He loved to talk, when he talked at her face from time to time, and if she had been at all psychic all, of shoe manufacturing, the development of lasts and styles.

she must have felt something. Fortunately she was not.

The ready-made shoe—machine-made to a certain extent—

Semple talked to him pleasantly, because in the first place was just coming into its own slowly, and outside of these, Frank was becoming financially significant, was suave and 45

The Financier

ingratiating, and in the next place he was anxious to get richer personally. He liked Mrs. Semple, though he did not see her and somehow Frank represented progress to him in that line.

very often.

One spring evening they sat on the porch and talked—noth-About a year later, Mr. Semple died. It was an untimely ing very important—slavery, street-cars, the panic—it was death, one of those fortuitous and in a way insignificant epion then, that of 1857—the development of the West. Mr.

sodes which are, nevertheless, dramatic in a dull way to those Semple wanted to know all about the stock exchange. In most concerned. He was seized with a cold in the chest late return Frank asked about the shoe business, though he really in the fall—one of those seizures ordinarily attributed to wet did not care. All the while, inoffensively, he watched Mrs.

feet or to going out on a damp day without an overcoat—

Semple. Her manner, he thought, was soothing, attractive, and had insisted on going to business when Mrs. Semple delightful. She served tea and cake for them. They went in-urged him to stay at home and recuperate. He was in his way side after a time to avoid the mosquitoes. She played the a very determined person, not obstreperously so, but quietly piano. At ten o’clock he left.

and under the surface. Business was a great urge. He saw Thereafter, for a year or so, Cowperwood bought his shoes himself soon to be worth about fifty thousand dollars. Then of Mr. Semple. Occasionally also he stopped in the Chest-this cold—nine more days of pneumonia—and he was dead.

nut Street store to exchange the time of the day. Semple asked The shoe store was closed for a few days; the house was full his opinion as to the advisability of buying some shares in of sympathetic friends and church people. There was a fu-the Fifth and Sixth Street line, which, having secured a fran-neral, with burial service in the Callowhill Presbyterian chise, was creating great excitement. Cowperwood gave him Church, to which they belonged, and then he was buried.

his best judgment. It was sure to be profitable. He himself Mrs. Semple cried bitterly. The shock of death affected her had purchased one hundred shares at five dollars a share, greatly and left her for a time in a depressed state. A brother and urged Semple to do so. But he was not interested in him of hers, David Wiggin, undertook for the time being to run 46

Dreiser

the shoe business for her. There was no will, but in the final Frank. He was genial, cheerful, gay at most times, without adjustment, which included the sale of the shoe business, being talkative, and he was decidedly successful. Everybody there being no desire on anybody’s part to contest her right knew he was making money now. His salary was fifty dollars to all the property, she received over eighteen thousand dol-a week, and he was certain soon to get more. Some lots of his lars. She continued to reside in the Front Street house, and in West Philadelphia, bought three years before, had increased was considered a charming and interesting widow.

notably in value. His street-car holdings, augmented by still Throughout this procedure young Cowperwood, only additional lots of fifty and one hundred and one hundred twenty years of age, was quietly manifest. He called during and fifty shares in new lines incorporated, were slowly ris-the illness. He attended the funeral. He helped her brother, ing, in spite of hard times, from the initiative five dollars in David Wiggin, dispose of the shoe business. He called once each case to ten, fifteen, and twenty-five dollars a share—all or twice after the funeral, then stayed away for a consider-destined to go to par. He was liked in the financial district able time. In five months he reappeared, and thereafter he and he was sure that he had a successful future. Because of was a caller at stated intervals—periods of a week or ten days.

his analysis of the brokerage situation he had come to the Again, it would be hard to say what he saw in Semple. Her conclusion that he did not want to be a stock gambler. In-prettiness, wax-like in its quality, fascinated him; her indif-stead, he was considering the matter of engaging in bill-ference aroused perhaps his combative soul. He could not brokering, a business which he had observed to be very prof-have explained why, but he wanted her in an urgent, pas-itable and which involved no risk as long as one had capital.

sionate way. He could not think of her reasonably, and he Through his work and his father’s connections he had met did not talk of her much to any one. His family knew that many people—merchants, bankers, traders. He could get he went to see her, but there had grown up in the their business, or a part of it, he knew. People in Drexel & Cowperwood family a deep respect for the mental force of Co. and Clark & Co. were friendly to him. Jay Cooke, a 47

The Financier

rising banking personality, was a personal friend of his.

“Well, I am very grateful just the same. You’ve been so Meanwhile he called on Mrs. Semple, and the more he good. Come out Sunday again, if you want to, or any evening.

called the better he liked her. There was no exchange of bril-I’ll be home.”

liant ideas between them; but he had a way of being com-It was while he was calling on her in this way that his Uncle forting and social when he wished. He advised her about her Seneca died in Cuba and left him fifteen thousand dollars.

business affairs in so intelligent a way that even her relatives This money made him worth nearly twenty-five thousand approved of it. She came to like him, because he was so con-dollars in his own right, and he knew exactly what to do siderate, quiet, reassuring, and so ready to explain over and with it. A panic had come since Mr. Semple had died, which over until everything was quite plain to her. She could see had illustrated to him very clearly what an uncertain thing that he was looking on her affairs quite as if they were his the brokerage business was. There was really a severe busi-own, trying to make them safe and secure.

ness depression. Money was so scarce that it could fairly be

“You’re so very kind, Frank,” she said to him, one night.

said not to exist at all. Capital, frightened by uncertain trade

“I’m awfully grateful. I don’t know what I would have done and money conditions, everywhere, retired to its hiding-places if it hadn’t been for you.”

in banks, vaults, tea-kettles, and stockings. The country She looked at his handsome face, which was turned to hers, seemed to be going to the dogs. War with the South or seces-with child-like simplicity.

sion was vaguely looming up in the distance. The temper of

“Not at all. Not at all. I want to do it. I wouldn’t have been the whole nation was nervous. People dumped their hold-happy if I couldn’t.”

ings on the market in order to get money. Tighe discharged His eyes had a peculiar, subtle ray in them—not a gleam.

three of his clerks. He cut down his expenses in every pos-She felt warm toward him, sympathetic, quite satisfied that sible way, and used up all his private savings to protect his she could lean on him.

private holdings. He mortgaged his house, his land hold-48

Dreiser

ings—everything; and in many instances young Cowperwood the money. Good God, this’ll never do at all, at all!” was his intermediary, carrying blocks of shares to different Frank went back. “He’ll pay ten per cent.,” he said, quietly.

banks to get what he could on them.

Tighe was credited with a deposit of fifteen thousand dol-

“See if your father’s bank won’t loan me fifteen thousand lars, with privilege to draw against it at once. He made out a on these,” he said to Frank, one day, producing a bundle of check for the total fifteen thousand at once to the Girard Philadelphia & Wilmington shares. Frank had heard his faNational Bank to cover a shrinkage there. So it went.

ther speak of them in times past as excellent.

During all these days young Cowperwood was following

“They ought to be good,” the elder Cowperwood said, du-these financial complications with interest. He was not dis-biously, when shown the package of securities. “At any other turbed by the cause of slavery, or the talk of secession, or the time they would be. But money is so tight. We find it aw-general progress or decline of the country, except in so far as fully hard these days to meet our own obligations. I’ll talk to it affected his immediate interests. He longed to become a Mr. Kugel.” Mr. Kugel was the president.

stable financier; but, now that he saw the inside of the bro-There was a long conversation—a long wait. His father kerage business, he was not so sure that he wanted to stay in came back to say it was doubtful whether they could make it. Gambling in stocks, according to conditions produced by the loan. Eight per cent., then being secured for money, was this panic, seemed very hazardous. A number of brokers a small rate of interest, considering its need. For ten per cent.

failed. He saw them rush in to Tighe with anguished faces Mr. Kugel might make a call-loan. Frank went back to his and ask that certain trades be canceled. Their very homes employer, whose commercial choler rose at the report.

were in danger, they said. They would be wiped out, their

“For Heaven’s sake, is there no money at all in the town?” wives and children put out on the street.

he demanded, contentiously. “Why, the interest they want is This panic, incidentally, only made Frank more certain as ruinous! I can’t stand that. Well, take ‘em back and bring me to what he really wanted to do—now that he had this free 49

The Financier

money, he would go into business for himself. Even Tighe’s Chapter VIII

offer of a minor partnership failed to tempt him.

“I think you have a nice business,” he explained, in refus-COWPERWOOD’S WORLD at this time was of roseate hue. He ing, “but I want to get in the note-brokerage business for was in love and had money of his own to start his new busi-myself. I don’t trust this stock game. I’d rather have a little ness venture. He could take his street-car stocks, which were business of my own than all the floor work in this world.” steadily increasing in value, and raise seventy per cent. of

“But you’re pretty young, Frank,” argued his employer. “You their market value. He could put a mortgage on his lots and have lots of time to work for yourself.” In the end he parted get money there, if necessary. He had established financial friends with both Tighe and Rivers. “That’s a smart young relations with the Girard National Bank—President Davison fellow,” observed Tighe, ruefully.

there having taken a fancy to him—and he proposed to bor-

“He’ll make his mark,” rejoined Rivers. “He’s the shrewd-row from that institution some day. All he wanted was suit-est boy of his age I ever saw.” able investments—things in which he could realize surely, quickly. He saw fine prospective profits in the street-car lines, which were rapidly developing into local ramifications.

He purchased a horse and buggy about this time—the most attractive-looking animal and vehicle he could find—the combination cost him five hundred dollars—and invited Mrs.

Semple to drive with him. She refused at first, but later consented. He had told her of his success, his prospects, his wind-fall of fifteen thousand dollars, his intention of going into the note-brokerage business. She knew his father was likely 50

Dreiser

to succeed to the position of vice-president in the Third could make her love him vigorously and could rout out the National Bank, and she liked the Cowperwoods. Now she memory of her former life. Strange ambition. Strange per-began to realize that there was something more than mere version, one might almost say.

friendship here. This erstwhile boy was a man, and he was In spite of her fears and her uncertainty, Lillian Semple calling on her. It was almost ridiculous in the face of things—

accepted his attentions and interest because, equally in spite her seniority, her widowhood, her placid, retiring disposi-of herself, she was drawn to him. One night, when she was tion—but the sheer, quiet, determined force of this young going to bed, she stopped in front of her dressing table and man made it plain that he was not to be balked by her sense looked at her face and her bare neck and arms. They were of convention.

very pretty. A subtle something came over her as she sur-Cowperwood did not delude himself with any noble theo-veyed her long, peculiarly shaded hair. She thought of young ries of conduct in regard to her. She was beautiful, with a Cowperwood, and then was chilled and shamed by the vi-mental and physical lure for him that was irresistible, and sion of the late Mr. Semple and the force and quality of pub-that was all he desired to know. No other woman was hold-lic opinion.

ing him like that. It never occurred to him that he could not

“Why do you come to see me so often?” she asked him or should not like other women at the same time. There was when he called the following evening.

a great deal of palaver about the sanctity of the home. It

“Oh, don’t you know?” he replied, looking at her in an rolled off his mental sphere like water off the feathers of a interpretive way.

duck. He was not eager for her money, though he was well

“No.”

aware of it. He felt that he could use it to her advantage. He

“Sure you don’t?”

wanted her physically. He felt a keen, primitive interest in

“Well, I know you liked Mr. Semple, and I always thought the children they would have. He wanted to find out if he you liked me as his wife. He’s gone, though, now.” 51

The Financier

“And you’re here,” he replied.

He relapsed into silence and stared at the water.

“And I’m here?”

She looked at him. His handsome body, slowly broaden-

“Yes. I like you. I like to be with you. Don’t you like me ing, was nearly full grown. His face, because of its full, clear, that way?”

big, inscrutable eyes, had an expression which was almost

“Why, I’ve never thought of it. You’re so much younger.

babyish. She could not have guessed the depths it veiled. His I’m five years older than you are.” cheeks were pink, his hands not large, but sinewy and strong.

“In years,” he said, “certainly. That’s nothing. I’m fifteen Her pale, uncertain, lymphatic body extracted a form of dy-years older than you are in other ways. I know more about namic energy from him even at this range.

life in some ways than you can ever hope to learn—don’t

“I don’t think you ought to come to see me so often. People you think so?” he added, softly, persuasively.

won’t think well of it.” She ventured to take a distant, ma-

“Well, that’s true. But I know a lot of things you don’t tronly air—the air she had originally held toward him.

know.” She laughed softly, showing her pretty teeth.

“People,” he said, “don’t worry about people. People think It was evening. They were on the side porch. The river was what you want them to think. I wish you wouldn’t take that before them.

distant air toward me.”

“Yes, but that’s only because you’re a woman. A man can’t

“Why?”

hope to get a woman’s point of view exactly. But I’m talking

“Because I like you.”

about practical affairs of this world. You’re not as old that

“But you mustn’t like me. It’s wrong. I can’t ever marry way as I am.”

you. You’re too young. I’m too old.”

“Well, what of it?”

“Don’t say that!” he said, imperiously. “There’s nothing to

“Nothing. You asked why I came to see you. That’s why.

it. I want you to marry me. You know I do. Now, when will Partly.”

it be?”

52

Dreiser

“Why, how silly! I never heard of such a thing!” she ex-She did show a good deal of determination, and he de-claimed. “It will never be, Frank. It can’t be!” sisted. But for the time being only. He called again and again.

“Why can’t it?” he asked.

Then one night, when they had gone inside because of the

“Because—well, because I’m older. People would think it mosquitoes, and when she had insisted that he must stop strange. I’m not long enough free.” coming to see her, that his attentions were noticeable to oth-

“Oh, long enough nothing!” he exclaimed, irritably. “That’s ers, and that she would be disgraced, he caught her, under the one thing I have against you—you are so worried about desperate protest, in his arms.

what people think. They don’t make your life. They certainly

“Now, see here!” she exclaimed. “I told you! It’s silly! You don’t make mine. Think of yourself first. You have your own mustn’t kiss me! How dare you! Oh! oh! oh!—” life to make. Are you going to let what other people think She broke away and ran up the near-by stairway to her stand in the way of what you want to do?” room. Cowperwood followed her swiftly. As she pushed the

“But I don’t want to,” she smiled.

door to he forced it open and recaptured her. He lifted her He arose and came over to her, looking into her eyes.

bodily from her feet and held her crosswise, lying in his arms.

“Well?” she asked, nervously, quizzically.

“Oh, how could you!” she exclaimed. “I will never speak He merely looked at her.

to you any more. I will never let you come here any more if

“Well?” she queried, more flustered.

you don’t put me down this minute. Put me down!” He stooped down to take her arms, but she got up.

“I’ll put you down, sweet,” he said. “I’ll take you down,”

“Now you must not come near me,” she pleaded, deter-at the same time pulling her face to him and kissing her. He minedly. “I’ll go in the house, and I’ll not let you come any was very much aroused, excited.

more. It’s terrible! You’re silly! You mustn’t interest yourself While she was twisting and protesting, he carried her down in me.”

the stairs again into the living-room, and seated himself in 53

The Financier

the great armchair, still holding her tight in his arms.

eventually.” He was thinking how attractive he could make

“Oh!” she sighed, falling limp on his shoulder when he her look in other surroundings. Neither she nor his family refused to let her go. Then, because of the set determination knew how to live.

of his face, some intense pull in him, she smiled. “How would

“Well, not in a month. Wait a little while. I will marry you I ever explain if I did marry you?” she asked, weakly. “Your after a while—after you see whether you want me.” father! Your mother!”

He caught her tight. “I’ll show you,” he said.

“You don’t need to explain. I’ll do that. And you needn’t

“Please stop. You hurt me.”

worry about my family. They won’t care.”

“How about it? Two months?”

“But mine,” she recoiled.

“Certainly not.”

“Don’t worry about yours. I’m not marrying your family.

“Three?”