the keenest feelings
of superiority he had ever yet enjoyed. Hitherto he had fancied that
his enemies might worst him, but at last his path seemed clear. He was
now worth, all in all, the round sum of twenty million dollars. His
art-collection had become the most important in the West--perhaps in
the nation, public collections excluded. He began to envision himself
as a national figure, possibly even an international one. And yet he
was coming to feel that, no matter how complete his financial victory
might ultimately be, the chances were that he and Aileen would never be
socially accepted here in Chicago. He had done too many boisterous
things--alienated too many people. He was as determined as ever to
retain a firm grip on the Chicago street-railway situation. But he was
disturbed for a second time in his life by the thought that, owing to
the complexities of his own temperament, he had married unhappily and
would find the situation difficult of adjustment. Aileen, whatever
might be said of her deficiencies, was by no means as tractable or
acquiescent as his first wife. And, besides, he felt that he owed her a
better turn. By no means did he actually dislike her as yet; though
she was no longer soothing, stimulating, or suggestive to him as she
had formerly been. Her woes, because of him, were too many; her
attitude toward him too censorious. He was perfectly willing to
sympathize with her, to regret his own change of feeling, but what
would you? He could not control his own temperament any more than
Aileen could control hers.

The worst of this situation was that it was now becoming complicated on
Cowperwood's part with the most disturbing thoughts concerning Berenice
Fleming. Ever since the days when he had first met her mother he had
been coming more and more to feel for the young girl a soul-stirring
passion--and that without a single look exchanged or a single word
spoken. There is a static something which is beauty, and this may be
clothed in the habiliments of a ragged philosopher or in the silks and
satins of pampered coquetry. It was a suggestion of this beauty which
is above sex and above age and above wealth that shone in the blowing
hair and night-blue eyes of Berenice Fleming. His visit to the Carter
family at Pocono had been a disappointment to him, because of the
apparent hopelessness of arousing Berenice's interest, and since that
time, and during their casual encounters, she had remain