"That's all right, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said quietly.
"You did perfectly right.
I don't blame you in the least.
It is the lying accusation passed about in this hotel that I object to.
We'll see about that."
Mrs. Gerhardt stood there, pale with excitement.
She was afraid she had deeply offended this man who had done so much for them.
If she could only say something, she thought, that would clear this matter up and make him feel that she was no tattler.
Scandal was distressing to her.
"I thought I was doing everything for the best," she said at last.
"So you were," he replied.
"I like Jennie very much.
I have always enjoyed her coming here.
It is my intention to do well by her, but perhaps it will be better to keep her away, at least for the present."
Again that evening the Senator sat in his easy-chair and brooded over this new development.
Jennie was really much more precious to him than he had thought.
Now that he had no hope of seeing her there any more, he began to realize how much these little visits of hers had meant.
He thought the matter over very carefully, realized instantly that there was nothing to be done so far as the hotel gossip was concerned, and concluded that he had really placed the girl in a very unsatisfactory position.
"Perhaps I had better end this little affair," he thought.
"It isn't a wise thing to pursue."
On the strength of this conclusion he went to Washington and finished his term.
Then he returned to Columbus to await the friendly recognition from the President which was to send him upon some ministry abroad.
Jennie had not been forgotten in the least.
The longer he stayed away the more eager he was to get back.
When he was again permanently settled in his old quarters he took up his cane one morning and strolled out in the direction of the cottage.
Arriving there, he made up his mind to go in, and knocking at the door, he was greeted by Mrs. Gerhardt and her daughter with astonished and diffident smiles.
He explained vaguely that he had been away, and mentioned his laundry as if that were the object of his visit.
Then, when chance gave him a few moments with Jennie alone, he plunged in boldly.
"How would you like to take a drive with me to-morrow evening?" he asked.
"I'd like it," said Jennie, to whom the proposition was a glorious novelty.
He smiled and patted her cheek, foolishly happy to see her again.
Every day seemed to add to her beauty.
Graced with her clean white apron, her shapely head crowned by the glory of her simply plaited hair, she was a pleasing sight for any man to look upon.
He waited until Mrs. Gerhardt returned, and then, having accomplished the purpose of his visit, he arose.
"I'm going to take your daughter out riding to-morrow evening," he explained.
"I want to talk to her about her future."
"Won't that be nice?" said the mother.
She saw nothing incongruous in the proposal.
They parted with smiles and much handshaking.
"That man has the best heart," commented Mrs. Gerhardt.
"Doesn't he always speak so nicely of you?
He may help you to an education.
You ought to be proud."
"I am," said Jennie frankly.
"I don't know whether we had better tell your father or not," concluded Mrs. Gerhardt.
"He doesn't like for you to be out evenings."
Finally they decided not to tell him.
He might not understand.
Jennie was ready when he called.
He could see by the weak-flamed, unpretentious parlor-lamp that she was dressed for him, and that the occasion had called out the best she had.