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nonsense. Three months! I know that my father wouldn't have to wait any three months if he
wanted to see anybody out there, nor anybody else that he wanted to ask favors for. And I
won't, either. I'll find some way."
Cowperwood had to smile. You could not defeat Aileen so easily.
"But you're not your father, honey; and you don't want him to know."
"I know I don't, but they don't need to know who I am. I can go heavily veiled. I don't think that
the warden knows my father. He may. Anyhow, he doesn't know me; and he wouldn't tell on me
if he did if I talked to him."
Her confidence in her charms, her personality, her earthly privileges was quite anarchistic.
Cowperwood shook his head.
"Honey, you're about the best and the worst there is when it comes to a woman," he observed,
affectionately, pulling her head down to kiss her, "but you'll have to listen to me just the same. I
have a lawyer, Steger--you know him. He's going to take up this matter with the warden out
there--is doing it today. He may be able to fix things, and he may not. I'll know to-morrow or
Sunday, and I'll write you. But don't go and do anything rash until you hear. I'm sure I can cut
that visiting limit in half, and perhaps down to once a month or once in two weeks even. They
only allow me to write one letter in three months"--Aileen exploded again--"and I'm sure I can
have that made different--some; but don't write me until you hear, or at least don't sign any
name or put any address in. They open all mail and read it. If you see me or write me you'll
have to be cautious, and you're not the most cautious person in the world. Now be good, will
you?"
They talked much more--of his family, his court appearance Monday, whether he would get out
soon to attend any of the suits still pending, or be pardoned. Aileen still believed in his future.
She had read the opinions of the dissenting judges in his favor, and that of the three agreed
judges against him. She was sure his day was not over in Philadelphia, and that he would some
time reestablish himself and then take her with him somewhere else. She was sorry for Mrs.
Cowperwood, but she was convinced that she was not suited to him--that Frank needed some
one more like herself, some one with youth and beauty and force--her, no less. She clung to
him now in ecstatic embraces until it was time to go. So far as a plan of procedure could have
been adjusted in a situation so incapable of accurate adjustment, it had been done. She was
desperately downcast at the last moment, as was he, over their parting; but she pulled herself
together with her usual force and faced the dark future with a steady eye.
Chapter LI
Monday came and with it his final departure. All that could be done had been done.
Cowperwood said his farewells to his mother and father, his brothers and sister. He had a rather
distant but sensible and matter-of-fact talk with his wife. He made no special point of saying
good-by to his son or his daughter; when he came in on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and
Sunday evenings, after he had learned that he was to depart Monday, it was with the thought of
talking to them a little in an especially affectionate way. He realized that his general moral or
unmoral attitude was perhaps working them a temporary injustice. Still he was not sure. Most
people did fairly well with their lives, whether coddled or deprived of opportunity. These children
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