Theodore Dreiser - The Stoic

“I know, darling,” whispered Berenice. “But now you must rest. I will be right near you even when you sleep. I am your nurse.”

And as Berenice went about her duties that night, and on every other night, she was impressed by his unbroken interest in the many affairs which he could no longer possibly manage. One day it was the art gallery, next day the underground, and next, the hospital.

Although she did not actually anticipate it, any more than did Dr. James, Cowperwood had only a very few more days to live. And yet, during such hours as she spent with him, he seemed more cheerful, except that after talking for a moment or two, he now invariably manifested a great weariness and a desire to sleep.

“Let him sleep as much as possible,” counseled Dr. James. “He is merely conserving his strength.” A statement which discouraged Berenice greatly. So much so that she asked if something more could not be done for him.

“No,” replied James. “Sleep is truly the best thing for him, and he may pull through. I am trying the best restoratives I know, but we can only wait. He may take a turn for the better.”

Only he did not take a turn for the better. Instead, forty-eight hours before he died he took a definite turn for the worse, which caused Dr. James to send for his son, Frank A. Cowperwood, Jr., and Anna, his daughter, who was now Mrs. Templeton. But not Aileen, as his daughter and son noticed when they arrived. When asked why Mrs. Cowperwood was not present, Dr. James explained to them that for reasons of her own she had refused to come to visit him any more.

However, although they had known of the existing estrangement between Aileen and Cowperwood, his son and daughter still had their own misgivings as to why she refused to come to see Cowperwood at this crucial time, and they felt obligated to inform her as to his condition.

Therefore, they hurried to a public telephone and called her. But, much to their surprise, they found she was not in a mood to consider anything in connection with him or them, asserting that Dr. James and Miss Fleming, having arranged Cowperwood’s affairs with his consent and with no regard for her wishes, surely could take care of everything. She flatly refused to come.

And so, while they were stunned by this seeming cruelty on Aileen’s part, they felt there was nothing they could do but return to watch the outcome of his turn for the worse. For fear controlled all present: Dr. James, Berenice, and Jamieson, all of whom stood by helpless for the want of a single clarifying idea. They waited for hours, the while they listened to his heavy breathing or periods of silence, until suddenly, twenty-four hours later, as if seeking to conclude a great weariness, he stirred sharply, even half-rose on one elbow as though looking about, and then as suddenly fell back and lay still.

Death! Death! There it was—irresistible and bleak in the face of all of them!

“Frank!” cried Berenice, stiffening and staring as if in supreme wonder. She hurried to his side and fell to her knees, seizing his damp hands and covering her face with them. “Oh, Frank, my darling, not you!” she cried out, and then drooped slowly to the floor, half-fainting.

The consternation that followed Cowperwood’s death involved so many immediate, as well as remote, problems that for several minutes all stood as if stupefied. Of the entire group, the doctor was the calmest and most resourceful in his thoughts and actions, his first direction being that he and Jamieson remove Berenice to one of the couches that were in this room. After doing this, he suggested to Jamieson that he call up Mrs. Cowperwood at once in order to obtain from her instructions as to the burial.

This inquiry, when made by Jamieson, resulted in a most shocking and disturbing reaction on the part of Aileen, a reaction plus an attitude which posed a problem that was seemingly insurmountable without resulting in practically a national scandal.

“Why do you ask me?” she said. “Why don’t you ask Dr. James and Miss Fleming? They have been in complete charge of his affairs ever since he has been here, and before.”

“But, Mrs. Cowperwood,” said Jamieson, astounded. “This is your husband. Do you mean to say that you do not wish to have him removed to your home?” An inquiry which brought from her the sharp and staccato reply:

“I have been personally ignored and lied to by Mr. Cowperwood, and also by his doctor and his mistress. Let them arrange to have his body sent to a funeral parlor and have the funeral from there.”

“But, Mrs. Cowperwood,” insisted Jamieson, in an agitated voice, “this is a most unheard-of proceeding. All the newspapers will find out. Surely you wouldn’t like that in connection with so great a figure as your husband.”

But at this point Dr. James, hearing this shocking statement, came forward and took the telephone receiver from Jamieson.

“Mrs. Cowperwood, this is Dr. James,” he said, coldly. “I am the physician, as you know, who was called in by Mr. Cowperwood when he came back to this country. Mr. Cowperwood is no relative of mine, and I have served him as I would any other patient, you included. But if you persist in this astounding attitude toward a man who is your husband, and whose property you are to inherit, I assure you that you will never be done with the scandal of it. It will follow you to the end of your days. Surely you must realize the significance of that.”

He waited for a second, but there was silence on her part.

“Now, I am not asking you to do me any favor, Mrs. Cowperwood,” he went on. “Only yourself. Certainly his body can be removed to an undertaker’s establishment, and buried anywhere, if that is what you wish. But is it? As you know, the press can learn from me or from the undertaker as to what has become of his body. But once more, and finally, for your own sake, I am asking you to think this over, for if you do as you say, I will see that tomorrow’s papers print the whole story.”

At this point he stopped talking, waiting and hoping for a more humane reply. But hearing the telephone click, he realized that she had hung up the receiver. Whereupon he turned to Jamieson, saying:

“That woman is, for the time being, not wholly sane. We’ll simply have to take this matter into our own hands and act for her. Mr. Cowperwood is so well liked by his own servants that I’m sure there will be no difficulty in reaching them, so that, without her knowledge, his body can be transferred to the house and remain there until it can be properly removed to his tomb. This is something that we can and must do. We cannot possibly allow this tragedy to occur.”

And taking his hat, he went out, but not before looking in on Berenice, who by then had recovered her composure, and asking her to return to her room and wait there until she heard from him.

“Do not despair, Berenice. Believe me, this will all be arranged in the most correct and unobtrusive manner possible. I can promise you that,” and he pressed her hand affectionately.

His next move was to have Cowperwood’s body taken to an undertaking establishment located near the hotel. Next, he intended to consult with Jamieson as to the character and mentality of the Cowperwood servants. Surely one or two of them could be depended on for assistance. For he was morally convinced that Aileen should not have her way. He might have to overstep his rights, but he saw no other course. Long before this he had sensed the basis of the difference between her and Cowperwood. She was, as he had seen for himself, really deeply in love with her husband, but so jealous of his every action as to make her dream of happiness a vehicle of pain.

Curiously enough, at this very difficult moment, Jamieson was called upon by one Buckner Carr, head butler at the Cowperwood home, a man who had been in Cowperwood’s service since his Chicago years. His purpose in calling, as it turned out, was to convey to Jamieson not only his great sorrow and dismay at Mr. Cowperwood’s death, but, because of a telephone conversation which he had overheard, and which seemed to indicate that Mrs. Cowperwood was charging her husband with unjust accusations and, most terrible of all, refusing to allow him now to be brought into his own home, he desired to offer his service toward averting such a tragedy.