It is an open question whether raw opposition ever accomplishes anything of value in this world.  It seems so inherent in this mortal scheme of things that it appears to have a vast validity.  It is more than likely that we owe this spectacle called life to it, and that this can be demonstrated scientifically; but when that is said and done, what is the value?  What is the value of the spectacle?  And what the value of a scene such as this enacted between Aileen and her father?

The old man saw nothing for it, as they rode on, save a grim contest between them which could end in what?  What could he do with her?  They were riding away fresh from this awful catastrophe, and she was not saying a word!  She had even asked him why he had come there!  How was he to subdue her, when the very act of trapping her had failed to do so?  His ruse, while so successful materially, had failed so utterly spiritually.  They reached the house, and Aileen got out.  The old man, too nonplussed to wish to go further at this time, drove back to his office.  He then went out and walked—­a peculiar thing for him to do; he had done nothing like that in years and years—­walking to think.  Coming to an open Catholic church, he went in and prayed for enlightenment, the growing dusk of the interior, the single everlasting lamp before the repository of the chalice, and the high, white altar set with candles soothing his troubled feelings.

He came out of the church after a time and returned home.  Aileen did not appear at dinner, and he could not eat.  He went into his private room and shut the door—­thinking, thinking, thinking.  The dreadful spectacle of Aileen in a house of ill repute burned in his brain.  To think that Cowperwood should have taken her to such a place—­his Aileen, his and his wife’s pet.  In spite of his prayers, his uncertainty, her opposition, the puzzling nature of the situation, she must be got out of this.  She must go away for a while, give the man up, and then the law should run its course with him.  In all likelihood Cowperwood would go to the penitentiary—­if ever a man richly deserved to go, it was he.  Butler would see that no stone was left unturned.  He would make it a personal issue, if necessary.  All he had to do was to let it be known in judicial circles that he wanted it so.  He could not suborn a jury, that would be criminal; but he could see that the case was properly and forcefully presented; and if Cowperwood were convicted, Heaven help him.  The appeal of his financial friends would not save him.  The judges of the lower and superior courts knew on which side their bread was buttered.  They would strain a point in favor of the highest political opinion of the day, and he certainly could influence that.  Aileen meanwhile was contemplating the peculiar nature of her situation.  In spite of their silence on the way home, she knew that a conversation was coming with her father.  It had to be.  He would want her to go somewhere.  Most likely he would revive