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this result were partly of his willing, and partly not. For one thing, some six months after his
incarceration, Edward Malia Butler died, expired sitting in his chair in his private office at his
home. The conduct of Aileen had been a great strain on him. From the time Cowperwood had
been sentenced, and more particularly after the time he had cried on Aileen's shoulder in prison,
she had turned on her father in an almost brutal way. Her attitude, unnatural for a child, was
quite explicable as that of a tortured sweetheart. Cowperwood had told her that he thought
Butler was using his influence to withhold a pardon for him, even though one were granted to
Stener, whose life in prison he had been following with considerable interest; and this had
enraged her beyond measure. She lost no chance of being practically insulting to her father,
ignoring him on every occasion, refusing as often as possible to eat at the same table, and
when she did, sitting next her mother in the place of Norah, with whom she managed to
exchange. She refused to sing or play any more when he was present, and persistently ignored
the large number of young political aspirants who came to the house, and whose presence in a
way had been encouraged for her benefit. Old Butler realized, of course, what it was all about.
He said nothing. He could not placate her.
Her mother and brothers did not understand it at all at first. (Mrs. Butler never understood.) But
not long after Cowperwood's incarceration Callum and Owen became aware of what the trouble
was. Once, when Owen was coming away from a reception at one of the houses where his
growing financial importance made him welcome, he heard one of two men whom he knew
casually, say to the other, as they stood at the door adjusting their coats, "You saw where this
fellow Cowperwood got four years, didn't you?"
"Yes," replied the other. "A clever devil that--wasn't he? I knew that girl he was in with, too--you
know who I mean. Miss Butler--wasn't that her name?"
Owen was not sure that he had heard right. He did not get the connection until the other guest,
opening the door and stepping out, remarked: "Well, old Butler got even, apparently. They say
he sent him up."
Owen's brow clouded. A hard, contentious look came into his eyes. He had much of his father's
force. What in the devil were they talking about? What Miss Butler did they have in mind? Could
this be Aileen or Norah, and how could Cowperwood come to be in with either of them? It could
not possibly be Norah, he reflected; she was very much infatuated with a young man whom he
knew, and was going to marry him. Aileen had been most friendly with the Cowperwoods, and
had often spoken well of the financier. Could it be she? He could not believe it. He thought once
of overtaking the two acquaintances and demanding to know what they meant, but when he
came out on the step they were already some distance down the street and in the opposite
direction from that in which he wished to go. He decided to ask his father about this.
On demand, old Butler confessed at once, but insisted that his son keep silent about it.
"I wish I'd have known," said Owen, grimly. "I'd have shot the dirty dog."
"Aisy, aisy," said Butler. "Yer own life's worth more than his, and ye'd only be draggin' the rest of
yer family in the dirt with him. He's had somethin' to pay him for his dirty trick, and he'll have
more. Just ye say nothin' to no one. Wait. He'll be wantin' to get out in a year or two. Say nothin'
to her aither. Talkin' won't help there. She'll come to her sinses when he's been away long
enough, I'm thinkin'." Owen had tried to be civil to his sister after that, but since he was a stickler
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