When he thought that time enough had elapsed he arose.
In the interval Jennie had been hastily coached by her mother.
Jennie should go to a private boarding-house somewhere, and send back her address.
Bass should not accompany her, but she should wait a little way up the street, and he would follow.
When her father was away the mother might get to see her, or Jennie could come home.
All else must be postponed until they could meet again.
While the discussion was still going on, Gerhardt came in.
"Is she going?" he asked harshly.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Gerhardt, with her first and only note of defiance.
Bass said, "What's the hurry?"
But Gerhardt frowned too mightily for him to venture on any further remonstrance.
Jennie entered, wearing her one good dress and carrying her valise.
There was fear in her eyes, for she was passing through a fiery ordeal, but she had become a woman.
The strength of love was with her, the support of patience and the ruling sweetness of sacrifice.
Silently she kissed her mother, while tears fell fast.
Then she turned, and the door closed upon her as she went forth to a new life.
CHAPTER X
The world into which Jennie was thus unduly thrust forth was that in which virtue has always vainly struggled since time immemorial; for virtue is the wishing well and the doing well unto others.
Virtue is that quality of generosity which offers itself willingly for another's service, and, being this, it is held by society to be nearly worthless.
Sell yourself cheaply and you shall be used lightly and trampled under foot.
Hold yourself dearly, however unworthily, and you will be respected.
Society, in the mass, lacks woefully in the matter of discrimination.
Its one criterion is the opinion of others.
Its one test that of self-preservation.
Has he preserved his fortune?
Has she preserved her purity?
Only in rare instances and with rare individuals does there seem to be any guiding light from within.
Jennie had not sought to hold herself dear.
Innate feeling in her made for self-sacrifice.
She could not be readily corrupted by the world's selfish lessons on how to preserve oneself from the evil to come.
It is in such supreme moments that growth is greatest.
It comes as with a vast surge, this feeling of strength and sufficiency.
We may still tremble, the fear of doing wretchedly may linger, but we grow.
Flashes of inspiration come to guide the soul.
In nature there is no outside.
When we are cast from a group or a condition we have still the companionship of all that is.
Nature is not ungenerous.
Its winds and stars are fellows with you.
Let the soul be but gentle and receptive, and this vast truth will come home—not in set phrases, perhaps, but as a feeling, a comfort, which, after all, is the last essence of knowledge.
In the universe peace is wisdom.
Jennie had hardly turned from the door when she was overtaken by Bass.
"Give me your grip," he said; and then seeing that she was dumb with unutterable feeling, he added, "I think I know where I can get you a room."
He led the way to the southern part of the city, where they were not known, and up to the door of an old lady whose parlor clock had been recently purchased from the instalment firm by whom he was now employed.
She was not well off, he knew, and had a room to rent.
"Is that room of yours still vacant?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, looking at Jennie.
"I wish you'd let my sister have it.
We're moving away, and she can't go yet."
The old lady expressed her willingness, and Jennie was soon temporarily installed.
"Don't worry now," said Bass, who felt rather sorry for her.