Oh, she knew—whatever he said, and however bravely and jauntily he talked.
To think that her love for him should have been the principal cause of his being sent to jail, as she now believed.
And the cruelty of her father!
And the smallness of his enemies—that fool Stener, for instance, whose pictures she had seen in the papers.
Actually, whenever in the presence of her Frank, she fairly seethed in a chemic agony for him—her strong, handsome lover—the strongest, bravest, wisest, kindest, handsomest man in the world.
Oh, didn't she know!
And Cowperwood, looking in her eyes and realizing this reasonless, if so comforting fever for him, smiled and was touched.
Such love!
That of a dog for a master; that of a mother for a child.
And how had he come to evoke it?
He could not say, but it was beautiful.
And so, now, in these last trying hours, he wished to see her much—and did—meeting her at least four times in the month in which he had been free, between his conviction and the final dismissal of his appeal.
He had one last opportunity of seeing her—and she him—just before his entrance into prison this last time—on the Saturday before the Monday of his sentence.
He had not come in contact with her since the decision of the Supreme Court had been rendered, but he had had a letter from her sent to a private mail-box, and had made an appointment for Saturday at a small hotel in Camden, which, being across the river, was safer, in his judgment, than anything in Philadelphia.
He was a little uncertain as to how she would take the possibility of not seeing him soon again after Monday, and how she would act generally once he was where she could not confer with him as often as she chose.
And in consequence, he was anxious to talk to her.
But on this occasion, as he anticipated, and even feared, so sorry for her was he, she was not less emphatic in her protestations than she had ever been; in fact, much more so.
When she saw him approaching in the distance, she went forward to meet him in that direct, forceful way which only she could attempt with him, a sort of mannish impetuosity which he both enjoyed and admired, and slipping her arms around his neck, said:
"Honey, you needn't tell me.
I saw it in the papers the other morning.
Don't you mind, honey.
I love you.
I'll wait for you.
I'll be with you yet, if it takes a dozen years of waiting.
It doesn't make any difference to me if it takes a hundred, only I'm so sorry for you, sweetheart.
I'll be with you every day through this, darling, loving you with all my might."
She caressed him while he looked at her in that quiet way which betokened at once his self-poise and yet his interest and satisfaction in her.
He couldn't help loving Aileen, he thought who could?
She was so passionate, vibrant, desireful.
He couldn't help admiring her tremendously, now more than ever, because literally, in spite of all his intellectual strength, he really could not rule her.
She went at him, even when he stood off in a calm, critical way, as if he were her special property, her toy.
She would talk to him always, and particularly when she was excited, as if he were just a baby, her pet; and sometimes he felt as though she would really overcome him mentally, make him subservient to her, she was so individual, so sure of her importance as a woman.
Now on this occasion she went babbling on as if he were broken-hearted, in need of her greatest care and tenderness, although he really wasn't at all; and for the moment she actually made him feel as though he was.
"It isn't as bad as that, Aileen," he ventured to say, eventually; and with a softness and tenderness almost unusual for him, even where she was concerned, but she went on forcefully, paying no heed to him.
"Oh, yes, it is, too, honey.
I know.
Oh, my poor Frank!
But I'll see you.
I know how to manage, whatever happens.
How often do they let visitors come out to see the prisoners there?"
"Only once in three months, pet, so they say, but I think we can fix that after I get there; only do you think you had better try to come right away, Aileen?
You know what the feeling now is.
Hadn't you better wait a while?
Aren't you in danger of stirring up your father?
He might cause a lot of trouble out there if he were so minded."
"Only once in three months!" she exclaimed, with rising emphasis, as he began this explanation.
"Oh, Frank, no!
Surely not!
Once in three months!
Oh, I can't stand that! I won't!