Chapter 40

New York, and Cowperwood and Aileen stepping off the liner Saxonia. The usual interviewers. The newspapers, aware of his expressed intention of invading the London underground field, now wanting to know, who were to be his directors, investors, managers, also whether the sudden reported heavy buying of both the common and preferred stock of the District and the Metropolitan was not really being done by his own men. This disclaimed by him in an adroit statement, which, when published, caused many Londoners, as well as Americans, to smile.

Pictures of Aileen, her new clothes, and references to her appearance in what was hinted to be near-society on the Continent.

And, simultaneously, sailing with Marigold for the North Cape, Bruce Tollifer. But no mention of this in any paper.

And at Pryor’s Cove, Berenice was an outstanding local success. Since she so carefully concealed her shrewdness behind a veil of simplicity, innocence, and conventionality, everyone convinced that there would follow in due time, for her, a distinguished and correct marriage. For, obviously, she had the instinct for avoiding the dull, the commonplace, and the lecherous, regarding favorably only those who were conventionally minded, men as well as women. Even a more promising trait, as her new friends saw it, was her penchant for that type of unattractive woman—neglected wife, spinster, maiden aunt—who, socially wellborn, was still hard put to it for pleasurable attention of any kind. For, having no need to fear the younger and more attractive hostesses and matrons, she knew that if she won the more lonely women to her, she would be able to make her way into the most important functions.

Just as fortunate was her tendency to admire the wholly innocuous and socially correct stripling or young master of title and social honor. In fact, the young curates and rectors for miles about Pryor’s Cove were already jubilant because of the spiritual discernment of this young newcomer. Her demure appearance of a Sabbath morn in any of the neighborhood chapels of the English High Church, invariably in company with her mother or one of the more conservative of the elder women, was sufficient to verify every good thing that was rumoured of her.

Coincidentally, Cowperwood on flying visits to Chicago, Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia, in connection with his London plans, and within the innermost sanctums of those most religious of all American institutions, the banks and trust companies, conferring with such individuals as would be at once the most useful, the most influential, and the least difficult to manage. And the blandness of his expression as he explained the certainty of larger and more permanent profits than had ever as yet been taken from any underground project. And, despite the so recent denunciations of him, being listened to with awe and even genuine respect. True, in Chicago, there were mumblings of contempt and hatred, but at the same time, envy. For the man was a force, attracting, as always, a veritable glare of publicity.

In so short a time as a month, he saw his primary problems solved. In many places, tentative agreements were made to purchase shares of his holding company which was presently to be organized in order to take over all the lines. For each share of the lines taken over, three shares in his own major company were to be paid. Indeed, except for some minor conferences on his Chicago holdings, he was really free to return to England, and would have done so had it not been for a new encounter of an old and familiar type. It had happened so often, in times past, when his name was being paraded before public eyes: he had been approached by ambitious and attractive women to whom his wealth, fame, and personal charm were irresistible. And now, because of a necessary visit to Baltimore, a vivid meeting of this sort.

It occurred in the hotel where he was staying. And to his mind at the time it seemed in no way to shadow the affection he had for Berenice. Nonetheless, at midnight, just returned from the home of the president of the Maryland Trust Company, and while sitting at his desk making notes upon their recent conversation, there was a tap at his door. Answering, he was informed by a feminine voice that a relative wished to speak to him. He smiled, for in all his experience he did not recall exactly that form of approach. He opened the door and saw a girl who, at a glance, he decided was not to be ignored and concerning whom he was instantly curious. She was young, slender, of medium height, assured, forceful, and magnetic. Her features were beautiful, and her dress.

“A relative? ” he said, smiling and allowing her to enter.

“Yes, ” she replied with the utmost calm. “I am a relative of yours, although you may not believe it right away. I am the granddaughter of a brother of your father’s. Only my name is Maris. My mother’s name was Cowperwood.”

He asked her to be seated and placed himself opposite her. Her eyes, which were large and round and of a silvery blue, contemplated him unwaveringly.

“What part of the country do you come from? ” he inquired.

“Cincinnati, ” she returned, “although my mother was born in North Carolina. It was her father who came from Pennsylvania, and not so far from where you were born, Mr. Cowperwood, Doylestown.”

“That’s true, ” he said. “My father did have a brother who once lived in Doylestown. Besides, I may add, you have the Cowperwood eye.”

“Thanks, ” she returned, and continued looking at him as fixedly as he looked at her. Then she added, unembarrassed by his gaze: “You may think it strange, my coming here at this hour, but I am stopping at this hotel, too, you see. I am a dancer, and the company I am with is playing here this week.”

“Is it possible? We Quakers seem to wander into strange fields! ”

“Yes, ” she replied, and smiled warmly, a smile reserved and yet rich, suggesting imagination, romance, mental strength, and sensuality. He felt its force as fully as he observed its character. “I’ve just come from the theater, ” she went on. “But I’ve been reading about you, and seeing your picture in the papers here, and since I’ve always wanted to know you, I decided I’d better come now.”

“Are you a good dancer? ” he inquired.

“I wish you’d come and see and judge for yourself.”

“I was returning to New York in the morning, but if you will have breakfast with me, I think I might stay over.”

“Oh, yes, of course I will, ” she said. “But do you know, I’ve been imagining myself talking to you like this for years. Once, two years ago, when I was unable to get a job of any kind, I wrote you a letter, but then I tore it up. You see, we are the poor Cowperwoods.”

“Too bad you didn’t send it, ” he commented. “What was it you wanted to tell me? ”

“Oh, how talented I was, and that I was your grand-niece. And if I were given a chance, how sure I was that I would be a great dancer. And now I’m glad I didn’t write you, because I’m here with you now and you can see me dance. By the way, ” she went on, still fixing him with her magnetic blue eyes, “our company opens in New York for the summer, and I hope you’ll see me there, too.”

“Well, if you are as lovely a dancer as you are to look at, you should be a sensation.”

“I’ll let you tell me tomorrow night about that.” She stirred as if to move, but then hesitated.

“What is your first name, did you say? ” he finally asked.

“Lorna.”

“Lorna Maris, ” he repeated. “Is that your stage name, too? ”

“Yes, I did think once of changing it to Cowperwood, so you might hear of me. But I decided that name wasn’t as good for a dancer as it was for a financier.”

They continued to gaze at each other.

“How old are you, Lorna? ”

“Twenty, ” she said simply, “or I will be in November.”

The silence that followed became full of meaning. Eyes said all that eyes could say. A few seconds more, and he merely signaled with his finger. She rose and went to him quickly, almost dancing as she did so, and threw herself into his arms.

“Beautiful! ” he said. “And to have you come just this way... charming...”