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diff --git a/5267-h/5267-h.htm b/5267-h/5267-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9680a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/5267-h/5267-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20393 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:2%;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + +.note {margin:5% 33% 5% 33%;} + +.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} + +.r2 {text-align:right;margin-right: 15%;} + +small {font-size: 70%;} + + h1 {margin:8% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both;} + + h2 {margin:8% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both;font-size:120%;} + + hr.full {width: 50%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} + + table {margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + + img {border:none;} + +.blockquot {margin: 5% auto 5% auto;font-size:90%;} + +.bbox {border:solid 2px black;padding:1%;max-width:20em;margin:auto;} +.bbbox {border:solid 2px black;padding:10%;} +.bbbbox {border:solid 2px black;padding:5%;} +.bboxx {border:solid 2px black;padding:1%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;max-width:15em;} + +.figcenter {margin:12% auto 12% auto;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sister Carrie + +Author: Theodore Dreiser + +Release Date: December 13, 2011 [EBook #5267] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SISTER CARRIE *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (from scanned +pages available at the Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="cb">SISTER CARRIE</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="359" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="" /> +</p> + +<div class="note"> + +<p class="nind">[A hand-writted note, transcribed below, appeared on the first page of +this copy of the book. The etext +transcriber cannot attest to its authenticity.]</p> + +<p class="nind"><br /><br />My Dear Mr. Norris:</p> + +<p>Owing as I do so very much to your earliest and most unqualified +approval of this story in manuscript form it is my determination to +inscribe a copy to you whether you will or no. That it reaches either +you or the public "under cover" so soon is due entirely to you. +Therefore refuse not a corner on the family table to the off-spring you +so generously fostered; neither attempt to deny in the future that your +sins do find you out.</p> + +<p>With the most grateful remembrances I am,</p> + +<p class="r">Sincerely yours <br /> +Dreiser</p> +</div> + +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="bbbox"> +<h1>Sister Carrie</h1> + +<p class="cb"><br /><br />By<br /> + +Theodore Dreiser</p> +</div> +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="bbbbox"> +<p class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/colophon.png" width="50" height="47" alt="colophon" title="" /> +</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<div class="bbbox"> +<p class="cb"><small>NEW YORK</small><br /> +Doubleday, Page & Co.<br /> +1900</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="c"><br /><br /><small>C<small>OPYRIGHT</small>, 1900, <small>BY</small><br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.</small></p> + +<div class="bboxx"> +<p class="c"><small> +TO MY FRIEND<br /> +<br /> +ARTHUR HENRY<br /> +<br /> +WHOSE STEADFAST IDEALS AND SERENE<br /> +DEVOTION TO TRUTH AND BEAUTY<br /> +HAVE SERVED TO LIGHTEN THE METHOD<br /> +AND STRENGTHEN THE PURPOSE OF<br /> +THIS VOLUME.</small> +</p></div> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<h1>SISTER CARRIE</h1> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> + +<tr><th colspan="3" align="center"><a name="Table_of_Contents" id="Table_of_Contents"></a><big>Contents</big></th></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"> Chapter I. </a></td><td>The Magnet Attracting—A Waif Amid Forces</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II. </a></td><td>What Poverty Threatened—Of Granite And Brass</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III. </a></td><td>We Question of Fortune—Four-fifty a Week</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV. </a></td><td>The Spendings of Fancy—Facts Answer With Sneers</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V. </a></td><td>A Glittering Night Flower—The Use of a Name</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI. </a></td><td>The Machine And The Maiden—A Knight of To-day</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII. </a></td><td>The Lure of the Material—Beauty Speaks for Itself</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII. </a></td><td>Intimations By Winter—An Ambassador Summoned</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX. </a></td><td>Convention's Own Tinder-box—The Eye That Is Green</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X. </a></td><td>The Counsel of Winter—Fortune's Ambassador Calls</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI. </a></td><td>The Persuasion of Fashion—Feeling Guards O'er Its Own</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII. </a></td><td>Of the Lamps of the Mansions—The Ambassador Plea</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII. </a></td><td>His Credentials Accepted—A Babel of Tongues</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV. </a></td><td>With Eyes and Not Seeing—One Influence Wanes</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV. </a></td><td>The Irk of the Old Ties—The Magic of Youth</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI. </a></td><td>A Witless Aladdin—The Gate To the World</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII. </a></td><td>A Glimpse Through the Gateway—Hope Lightens the Eye</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII. </a></td><td>Just Over the Border—A Hail And Farewell</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX. </a></td><td>An Hour In Elfland—A Clamour Half Heard</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX. </a></td><td>The Lure of the Spirit—The Flesh In Pursuit</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI. </a></td><td>The Lure of the Spirit—The Flesh In Pursuit</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII. </a></td><td>The Blaze of the Tinder—Flesh Wars With the Flesh</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII. </a></td><td>A Spirit In Travail—One Rung Put Behind</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV. </a></td><td>Ashes of Tinder—A Face At the Window</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV. </a></td><td>Ashes of Tinder—The Loosing of Stays</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI. </a></td><td>The Ambassador Fallen—A Search For the Gate</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII. </a></td><td>When Waters Engulf Us We Reach For a Star</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII. </a></td><td>A Pilgrim, An Outlaw—The Spirit Detained</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX. </a></td><td>The Solace of Travel—The Boats of the Sea</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX. </a></td><td>The Kingdom of Greatness—The Pilgrim a Dream</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI. </a></td><td>A Pet of Good Fortune—Broadway Flaunts Its Joys</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII. </a></td><td>The Feast of Belshazzar—A Seer to Translate</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII. </a></td><td>Without the Walled City—The Slope of the Years</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV. </a></td><td>The Grind of the Millstones—A Sample of Chaff</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV. </a></td><td>The Passing of Effort—The Visage of Care</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI. </a></td><td>A Grim Retrogression—The Phantom of Chance</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII. </a></td><td>The Spirit Awakens—New Search For the Gate</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></td><td>In Elf Land Disporting—The Grim World Without</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></td><td>Of Lights and of Shadows—The Parting of Worlds</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL. </a></td><td>A Public Dissension—A Final Appeal</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI. </a></td><td>The Strike</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII. </a></td><td>A Touch of Spring—The Empty Shell</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII. </a></td><td>The World Turns Flatterer—An Eye In the Dark</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV. </a></td><td>And This Is Not Elf Land—What Gold Will Not Buy</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV. </a></td><td>Curious Shifts of the Poor</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI. </a></td><td>Stirring Troubled Waters</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII. </a></td><td>The Way of the Beaten—A Harp In The Wind</td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +<small>THE MAGNET ATTRACTING: A WAIF AMID FORCES</small></h2> + +<p>When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her total +outfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skin +satchel, a small lunch in a paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, +containing her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister's address in Van +Buren Street, and four dollars in money. It was in August, 1889. She was +eighteen years of age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions of +ignorance and youth. Whatever touch of regret at parting characterised +her thoughts, it was certainly not for advantages now being given up. A +gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, a touch in her throat when +the cars clacked by the flour mill where her father worked by the day, a +pathetic sigh as the familiar green environs of the village passed in +review, and the threads which bound her so lightly to girlhood and home +were irretrievably broken.</p> + +<p>To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descend +and return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these very +trains which came up daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, even +once she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours—a few hundred +miles? She looked at the little slip bearing her sister's address and +wondered. She gazed at the<a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a> green landscape, now passing in swift +review, until her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vague +conjectures of what Chicago might be.</p> + +<p>When a girl leaves her home at eighteen, she does one of two things. +Either she falls into saving hands and becomes better, or she rapidly +assumes the cosmopolitan standard of virtue and becomes worse. Of an +intermediate balance, under the circumstances, there is no possibility. +The city has its cunning wiles, no less than the infinitely smaller and +more human tempter. There are large forces which allure with all the +soulfulness of expression possible in the most cultured human. The gleam +of a thousand lights is often as effective as the persuasive light in a +wooing and fascinating eye. Half the undoing of the unsophisticated and +natural mind is accomplished by forces wholly superhuman. A blare of +sound, a roar of life, a vast array of human hives, appeal to the +astonished senses in equivocal terms. Without a counsellor at hand to +whisper cautious interpretations, what falsehoods may not these things +breathe into the unguarded ear! Unrecognised for what they are, their +beauty, like music, too often relaxes, then weakens, then perverts the +simpler human perceptions.</p> + +<p>Caroline, or Sister Carrie, as she had been half affectionately termed +by the family, was possessed of a mind rudimentary in its power of +observation and analysis. Self-interest with her was high, but not +strong. It was, nevertheless, her guiding characteristic. Warm with the +fancies of youth, pretty with the insipid prettiness of the formative +period, possessed of a figure promising eventual shapeliness and an eye +alight with certain native intelligence, she was a fair example of the +middle American class—two generations removed from the emigrant. Books +were beyond her interest—knowledge a sealed book. In the intuitive +graces she was still crude. She<a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a> could scarcely toss her head +gracefully. Her hands were almost ineffectual. The feet, though small, +were set flatly. And yet she was interested in her charms, quick to +understand the keener pleasures of life, ambitious to gain in material +things. A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoitre +the mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off +supremacy, which should make it prey and subject—the proper penitent, +grovelling at a woman's slipper.</p> + +<p>"That," said a voice in her ear, "is one of the prettiest little resorts +in Wisconsin."</p> + +<p>"Is it?" she answered nervously.</p> + +<p>The train was just pulling out of Waukesha. For some time she had been +conscious of a man behind. She felt him observing her mass of hair. He +had been fidgetting, and with natural intuition she felt a certain +interest growing in that quarter. Her maidenly reserve, and a certain +sense of what was conventional under the circumstances, called her to +forestall and deny this familiarity, but the daring and magnetism of the +individual, born of past experiences and triumphs, prevailed. She +answered.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward to put his elbows upon the back of her seat and +proceeded to make himself volubly agreeable.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is a great resort for Chicago people. The hotels are swell. +You are not familiar with this part of the country, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I am," answered Carrie. "That is, I live at Columbia City. I +have never been through here, though."</p> + +<p>"And so this is your first visit to Chicago," he observed.</p> + +<p>All the time she was conscious of certain features out of the side of +her eye. Flush, colourful cheeks, a light moustache, a grey fedora hat. +She now turned and looked upon him in full, the instincts of +self-protection and coquetry mingling confusedly in her brain.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that," she said.<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh," he answered, in a very pleasing way and with an assumed air of +mistake, "I thought you did."</p> + +<p>Here was a type of the travelling canvasser for a manufacturing house—a +class which at that time was first being dubbed by the slang of the day +"drummers." He came within the meaning of a still newer term, which had +sprung into general use among Americans in 1880, and which concisely +expressed the thought of one whose dress or manners are calculated to +elicit the admiration of susceptible young women—a "masher." His suit +was of a striped and crossed pattern of brown wool, new at that time, +but since become familiar as a business suit. The low crotch of the vest +revealed a stiff shirt bosom of white and pink stripes. From his coat +sleeves protruded a pair of linen cuffs of the same pattern, fastened +with large, gold plate buttons, set with the common yellow agates known +as "cat's-eyes." His fingers bore several rings—one, the ever-enduring +heavy seal—and from his vest dangled a neat gold watch chain, from +which was suspended the secret insignia of the Order of Elks. The whole +suit was rather tight-fitting, and was finished off with heavy-soled tan +shoes, highly polished, and the grey fedora hat. He was, for the order +of intellect represented, attractive, and whatever he had to recommend +him, you may be sure was not lost upon Carrie, in this, her first +glance.</p> + +<p>Lest this order of individual should permanently pass, let me put down +some of the most striking characteristics of his most successful manner +and method. Good clothes, of course, were the first essential, the +things without which he was nothing. A strong physical nature, actuated +by a keen desire for the feminine, was the next. A mind free of any +consideration of the problems or forces of the world and actuated not by +greed, but an insatiable love of variable pleasure. His method was<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> +always simple. Its principal element was daring, backed, of course, by +an intense desire and admiration for the sex. Let him meet with a young +woman twice and he would straighten her necktie for her and perhaps +address her by her first name. In the great department stores he was at +his ease. If he caught the attention of some young woman while waiting +for the cash boy to come back with his change, he would find out her +name, her favourite flower, where a note would reach her, and perhaps +pursue the delicate task of friendship until it proved unpromising, when +it would be relinquished. He would do very well with more pretentious +women, though the burden of expense was a slight deterrent. Upon +entering a parlour car, for instance, he would select a chair next to +the most promising bit of femininity and soon enquire if she cared to +have the shade lowered. Before the train cleared the yards he would have +the porter bring her a footstool. At the next lull in his conversational +progress he would find her something to read, and from then on, by dint +of compliment gently insinuated, personal narrative, exaggeration and +service, he would win her tolerance, and, mayhap, regard.</p> + +<p>A woman should some day write the complete philosophy of clothes. No +matter how young, it is one of the things she wholly comprehends. There +is an indescribably faint line in the matter of man's apparel which +somehow divides for her those who are worth glancing at and those who +are not. Once an individual has passed this faint line on the way +downward he will get no glance from her. There is another line at which +the dress of a man will cause her to study her own. This line the +individual at her elbow now marked for Carrie. She became conscious of +an inequality. Her own plain blue dress, with its black cotton tape +trimmings, now seemed to her shabby. She felt the worn state of her +shoes.<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p> + +<p>"Let's see," he went on, "I know quite a number of people in your town. +Morgenroth the clothier and Gibson the dry goods man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you?" she interrupted, aroused by memories of longings their +show windows had cost her.</p> + +<p>At last he had a clew to her interest, and followed it deftly. In a few +minutes he had come about into her seat. He talked of sales of clothing, +his travels, Chicago, and the amusements of that city.</p> + +<p>"If you are going there, you will enjoy it immensely. Have you +relatives?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to visit my sister," she explained.</p> + +<p>"You want to see Lincoln Park," he said, "and Michigan Boulevard. They +are putting up great buildings there. It's a second New York—great. So +much to see—theatres, crowds, fine houses—oh, you'll like that."</p> + +<p>There was a little ache in her fancy of all he described. Her +insignificance in the presence of so much magnificence faintly affected +her. She realised that hers was not to be a round of pleasure, and yet +there was something promising in all the material prospect he set forth. +There was something satisfactory in the attention of this individual +with his good clothes. She could not help smiling as he told her of some +popular actress of whom she reminded him. She was not silly, and yet +attention of this sort had its weight.</p> + +<p>"You will be in Chicago some little time, won't you?" he observed at one +turn of the now easy conversation.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie vaguely—a flash vision of the possibility +of her not securing employment rising in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Several weeks, anyhow," he said, looking steadily into her eyes.</p> + +<p>There was much more passing now than the mere words indicated. He +recognised the indescribable thing<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> that made up for fascination and +beauty in her. She realised that she was of interest to him from the one +standpoint which a woman both delights in and fears. Her manner was +simple, though for the very reason that she had not yet learned the many +little affectations with which women conceal their true feelings. Some +things she did appeared bold. A clever companion—had she ever had +one—would have warned her never to look a man in the eyes so steadily.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to be there several weeks. I'm going to study stock at +our place and get new samples. I might show you 'round."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you can or not. I mean I don't know whether I can. +I shall be living with my sister, and——"</p> + +<p>"Well, if she minds, we'll fix that." He took out his pencil and a +little pocket note-book as if it were all settled. "What is your address +there?"</p> + +<p>She fumbled her purse which contained the address slip.</p> + +<p>He reached down in his hip pocket and took out a fat purse. It was +filled with slips of paper, some mileage books, a roll of greenbacks. It +impressed her deeply. Such a purse had never been carried by any one +attentive to her. Indeed, an experienced traveller, a brisk man of the +world, had never come within such close range before. The purse, the +shiny tan shoes, the smart new suit, and the air with which he did +things, built up for her a dim world of fortune, of which he was the +centre. It disposed her pleasantly toward all he might do.</p> + +<p>He took out a neat business card, on which was engraved Bartlett, Caryoe +& Company, and down in the left-hand corner, Chas. H. Drouet.</p> + +<p>"That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a> touching his +name. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father's +side."</p> + +<p>She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letter +from a bunch in his coat pocket. "This is the house I travel for," he +went on, pointing to a picture on it, "corner of State and Lake." There +was pride in his voice. He felt that it was something to be connected +with such a place, and he made her feel that way.</p> + +<p>"What is your address?" he began again, fixing his pencil to write.</p> + +<p>She looked at his hand.</p> + +<p>"Carrie Meeber," she said slowly. "Three hundred and fifty-four West Van +Buren Street, care S. C. Hanson."</p> + +<p>He wrote it carefully down and got out the purse again. "You'll be at +home if I come around Monday night?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I think so," she answered.</p> + +<p>How true it is that words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we +mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible +feelings and purposes. Here were these two, bandying little phrases, +drawing purses, looking at cards, and both unconscious of how +inarticulate all their real feelings were. Neither was wise enough to be +sure of the working of the mind of the other. He could not tell how his +luring succeeded. She could not realise that she was drifting, until he +secured her address. Now she felt that she had yielded something—he, +that he had gained a victory. Already they felt that they were somehow +associated. Already he took control in directing the conversation. His +words were easy. Her manner was relaxed.</p> + +<p>They were nearing Chicago. Signs were everywhere numerous. Trains +flashed by them. Across wide stretches of flat, open prairie they could +see lines of telegraph poles stalking across the fields toward the +great<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> city. Far away were indications of suburban towns, some big +smoke-stacks towering high in the air.</p> + +<p>Frequently there were two-story frame houses standing out in the open +fields, without fence or trees, lone outposts of the approaching army of +homes.</p> + +<p>To the child, the genius with imagination, or the wholly untravelled, +the approach to a great city for the first time is a wonderful thing. +Particularly if it be evening—that mystic period between the glare and +gloom of the world when life is changing from one sphere or condition to +another. Ah, the promise of the night. What does it not hold for the +weary! What old illusion of hope is not here forever repeated! Says the +soul of the toiler to itself, "I shall soon be free. I shall be in the +ways and the hosts of the merry. The streets, the lamps, the lighted +chamber set for dining, are for me. The theatre, the halls, the parties, +the ways of rest and the paths of song—these are mine in the night." +Though all humanity be still enclosed in the shops, the thrill runs +abroad. It is in the air. The dullest feel something which they may not +always express or describe. It is the lifting of the burden of toil.</p> + +<p>Sister Carrie gazed out of the window. Her companion, affected by her +wonder, so contagious are all things, felt anew some interest in the +city and pointed out its marvels.</p> + +<p>"This is Northwest Chicago," said Drouet. "This is the Chicago River," +and he pointed to a little muddy creek, crowded with the huge masted +wanderers from far-off waters nosing the black-posted banks. With a +puff, a clang, and a clatter of rails it was gone. "Chicago is getting +to be a great town," he went on. "It's a wonder. You'll find lots to see +here."</p> + +<p>She did not hear this very well. Her heart was troubled by a kind of +terror. The fact that she was alone, away<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> from home, rushing into a +great sea of life and endeavour, began to tell. She could not help but +feel a little choked for breath—a little sick as her heart beat so +fast. She half closed her eyes and tried to think it was nothing, that +Columbia City was only a little way off.</p> + +<p>"Chicago! Chicago!" called the brakeman, slamming open the door. They +were rushing into a more crowded yard, alive with the clatter and clang +of life. She began to gather up her poor little grip and closed her hand +firmly upon her purse. Drouet arose, kicked his legs to straighten his +trousers, and seized his clean yellow grip.</p> + +<p>"I suppose your people will be here to meet you?" he said. "Let me carry +your grip."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said. "I'd rather you wouldn't. I'd rather you wouldn't be +with me when I meet my sister."</p> + +<p>"All right," he said in all kindness. "I'll be near, though, in case she +isn't here, and take you out there safely."</p> + +<p>"You're so kind," said Carrie, feeling the goodness of such attention in +her strange situation.</p> + +<p>"Chicago!" called the brakeman, drawing the word out long. They were +under a great shadowy train shed, where the lamps were already beginning +to shine out, with passenger cars all about and the train moving at a +snail's pace. The people in the car were all up and crowding about the +door.</p> + +<p>"Well, here we are," said Drouet, leading the way to the door. +"Good-bye, till I see you Monday."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she answered, taking his proffered hand.</p> + +<p>"Remember, I'll be looking till you find your sister."</p> + +<p>She smiled into his eyes.</p> + +<p>They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced, +rather commonplace woman recognised Carrie on the platform and hurried +forward.<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a></p> + +<p>"Why, Sister Carrie!" she began, and there was a perfunctory embrace of +welcome.</p> + +<p>Carrie realised the change of affectional atmosphere at once. Amid all +the maze, uproar, and novelty she felt cold reality taking her by the +hand. No world of light and merriment. No round of amusement. Her sister +carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil.</p> + +<p>"Why, how are all the folks at home?" she began; "how is father, and +mother?"</p> + +<p>Carrie answered, but was looking away. Down the aisle, toward the gate +leading into the waiting-room and the street, stood Drouet. He was +looking back. When he saw that she saw him and was safe with her sister +he turned to go, sending back the shadow of a smile. Only Carrie saw it. +She felt something lost to her when he moved away. When he disappeared +she felt his absence thoroughly. With her sister she was much alone, a +lone figure in a tossing, thoughtless sea.<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +<small>WHAT POVERTY THREATENED: OF GRANITE AND BRASS</small></h2> + +<p>Minnie's flat, as the one-floor resident apartments were then being +called, was in a part of West Van Buren Street inhabited by families of +labourers and clerks, men who had come, and were still coming, with the +rush of population pouring in at the rate of 50,000 a year. It was on +the third floor, the front windows looking down into the street, where, +at night, the lights of grocery stores were shining and children were +playing. To Carrie, the sound of the little bells upon the horse-cars, +as they tinkled in and out of hearing, was as pleasing as it was novel. +She gazed into the lighted street when Minnie brought her into the front +room, and wondered at the sounds, the movement, the murmur of the vast +city which stretched for miles and miles in every direction.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hanson, after the first greetings were over, gave Carrie the baby +and proceeded to get supper. Her husband asked a few questions and sat +down to read the evening paper. He was a silent man, American born, of a +Swede father, and now employed as a cleaner of refrigerator cars at the +stock-yards. To him the presence or absence of his wife's sister was a +matter of indifference. Her personal appearance did not affect him one +way or the other. His one observation to the point was concerning the +chances of work in Chicago.</p> + +<p>"It's a big place," he said. "You can get in somewhere in a few days. +Everybody does."<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a></p> + +<p>It had been tacitly understood beforehand that she was to get work and +pay her board. He was of a clean, saving disposition, and had already +paid a number of monthly instalments on two lots far out on the West +Side. His ambition was some day to build a house on them.</p> + +<p>In the interval which marked the preparation of the meal Carrie found +time to study the flat. She had some slight gift of observation and that +sense, so rich in every woman—intuition.</p> + +<p>She felt the drag of a lean and narrow life. The walls of the rooms were +discordantly papered. The floors were covered with matting and the hall +laid with a thin rag carpet. One could see that the furniture was of +that poor, hurriedly patched together quality sold by the instalment +houses.</p> + +<p>She sat with Minnie, in the kitchen, holding the baby until it began to +cry. Then she walked and sang to it, until Hanson, disturbed in his +reading, came and took it. A pleasant side to his nature came out here. +He was patient. One could see that he was very much wrapped up in his +offspring.</p> + +<p>"Now, now," he said, walking. "There, there," and there was a certain +Swedish accent noticeable in his voice.</p> + +<p>"You'll want to see the city first, won't you?" said Minnie, when they +were eating. "Well, we'll go out Sunday and see Lincoln Park."</p> + +<p>Carrie noticed that Hanson had said nothing to this. He seemed to be +thinking of something else.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I think I'll look around to-morrow. I've got Friday +and Saturday, and it won't be any trouble. Which way is the business +part?"</p> + +<p>Minnie began to explain, but her husband took this part of the +conversation to himself.</p> + +<p>"It's that way," he said, pointing east. "That's east." Then he went off +into the longest speech he had yet indulged<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> in, concerning the lay of +Chicago. "You'd better look in those big manufacturing houses along +Franklin Street and just the other side of the river," he concluded. +"Lots of girls work there. You could get home easy, too. It isn't very +far."</p> + +<p>Carrie nodded and asked her sister about the neighbourhood. The latter +talked in a subdued tone, telling the little she knew about it, while +Hanson concerned himself with the baby. Finally he jumped up and handed +the child to his wife.</p> + +<p>"I've got to get up early in the morning, so I'll go to bed," and off he +went, disappearing into the dark little bedroom off the hall, for the +night.</p> + +<p>"He works way down at the stock-yards," explained Minnie, "so he's got +to get up at half-past five."</p> + +<p>"What time do you get up to get breakfast?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"At about twenty minutes of five."</p> + +<p>Together they finished the labour of the day, Carrie washing the dishes +while Minnie undressed the baby and put it to bed. Minnie's manner was +one of trained industry, and Carrie could see that it was a steady round +of toil with her.</p> + +<p>She began to see that her relations with Drouet would have to be +abandoned. He could not come here. She read from the manner of Hanson, +in the subdued air of Minnie, and, indeed, the whole atmosphere of the +flat, a settled opposition to anything save a conservative round of +toil. If Hanson sat every evening in the front room and read his paper, +if he went to bed at nine, and Minnie a little later, what would they +expect of her? She saw that she would first need to get work and +establish herself on a paying basis before she could think of having +company of any sort. Her little flirtation with Drouet seemed now an +extraordinary thing.<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a></p> + +<p>"No," she said to herself, "he can't come here."</p> + +<p>She asked Minnie for ink and paper, which were upon the mantel in the +dining-room, and when the latter had gone to bed at ten, got out +Drouet's card and wrote him.</p> + +<p>"I cannot have you call on me here. You will have to wait until you hear +from me again. My sister's place is so small."</p> + +<p>She troubled herself over what else to put in the letter. She wanted to +make some reference to their relations upon the train, but was too +timid. She concluded by thanking him for his kindness in a crude way, +then puzzled over the formality of signing her name, and finally decided +upon the severe, winding up with a "Very truly," which she subsequently +changed to "Sincerely." She sealed and addressed the letter, and going +in the front room, the alcove of which contained her bed, drew the one +small rocking-chair up to the open window, and sat looking out upon the +night and streets in silent wonder. Finally, wearied by her own +reflections, she began to grow dull in her chair, and feeling the need +of sleep, arranged her clothing for the night and went to bed.</p> + +<p>When she awoke at eight the next morning, Hanson had gone. Her sister +was busy in the dining-room, which was also the sitting-room, sewing. +She worked, after dressing, to arrange a little breakfast for herself, +and then advised with Minnie as to which way to look. The latter had +changed considerably since Carrie had seen her. She was now a thin, +though rugged, woman of twenty-seven, with ideas of life coloured by her +husband's, and fast hardening into narrower conceptions of pleasure and +duty than had ever been hers in a thoroughly circumscribed youth. She +had invited Carrie, not because she longed for her presence, but because +the latter was dissatisfied at home, and could probably get work and pay +her board here. She was pleased to see her in a way, but reflected her +husband's<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> point of view in the matter of work. Anything was good enough +so long as it paid—say, five dollars a week to begin with. A shop girl +was the destiny prefigured for the newcomer. She would get in one of the +great shops and do well enough until—well, until something happened. +Neither of them knew exactly what. They did not figure on promotion. +They did not exactly count on marriage. Things would go on, though, in a +dim kind of way until the better thing would eventuate, and Carrie would +be rewarded for coming and toiling in the city. It was under such +auspicious circumstances that she started out this morning to look for +work.</p> + +<p>Before following her in her round of seeking, let us look at the sphere +in which her future was to lie. In 1889 Chicago had the peculiar +qualifications of growth which made such adventuresome pilgrimages even +on the part of young girls plausible. Its many and growing commercial +opportunities gave it widespread fame, which made of it a giant magnet, +drawing to itself, from all quarters, the hopeful and the +hopeless—those who had their fortune yet to make and those whose +fortunes and affairs had reached a disastrous climax elsewhere. It was a +city of over 500,000, with the ambition, the daring, the activity of a +metropolis of a million. Its streets and houses were already scattered +over an area of seventy-five square miles. Its population was not so +much thriving upon established commerce as upon the industries which +prepared for the arrival of others. The sound of the hammer engaged upon +the erection of new structures was everywhere heard. Great industries +were moving in. The huge railroad corporations which had long before +recognised the prospects of the place had seized upon vast tracts of +land for transfer and shipping purposes. Street-car lines had been +extended far out into the open country in anticipation of rapid growth. +The city had<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> laid miles and miles of streets and sewers through regions +where, perhaps, one solitary house stood out alone—a pioneer of the +populous ways to be. There were regions open to the sweeping winds and +rain, which were yet lighted throughout the night with long, blinking +lines of gas-lamps, fluttering in the wind. Narrow board walks extended +out, passing here a house, and there a store, at far intervals, +eventually ending on the open prairie.</p> + +<p>In the central portion was the vast wholesale and shopping district, to +which the uninformed seeker for work usually drifted. It was a +characteristic of Chicago then, and one not generally shared by other +cities, that individual firms of any pretension occupied individual +buildings. The presence of ample ground made this possible. It gave an +imposing appearance to most of the wholesale houses, whose offices were +upon the ground floor and in plain view of the street. The large plates +of window glass, now so common, were then rapidly coming into use, and +gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished and prosperous look. +The casual wanderer could see as he passed a polished array of office +fixtures, much frosted glass, clerks hard at work, and genteel business +men in "nobby" suits and clean linen lounging about or sitting in +groups. Polished brass or nickel signs at the square stone entrances +announced the firm and the nature of the business in rather neat and +reserved terms. The entire metropolitan centre possessed a high and +mighty air calculated to overawe and abash the common applicant, and to +make the gulf between poverty and success seem both wide and deep.</p> + +<p>Into this important commercial region the timid Carrie went. She walked +east along Van Buren Street through a region of lessening importance, +until it deteriorated into a mass of shanties and coal-yards, and +finally verged upon the river. She walked bravely forward, led by an +honest<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> desire to find employment and delayed at every step by the +interest of the unfolding scene, and a sense of helplessness amid so +much evidence of power and force which she did not understand. These +vast buildings, what were they? These strange energies and huge +interests, for what purposes were they there? She could have understood +the meaning of a little stone-cutter's yard at Columbia City, carving +little pieces of marble for individual use, but when the yards of some +huge stone corporation came into view, filled with spur tracks and flat +cars, transpierced by docks from the river and traversed overhead by +immense trundling cranes of wood and steel, it lost all significance in +her little world.</p> + +<p>It was so with the vast railroad yards, with the crowded array of +vessels she saw at the river, and the huge factories over the way, +lining the water's edge. Through the open windows she could see the +figures of men and women in working aprons, moving busily about. The +great streets were wall-lined mysteries to her; the vast offices, +strange mazes which concerned far-off individuals of importance. She +could only think of people connected with them as counting money, +dressing magnificently, and riding in carriages. What they dealt in, how +they laboured, to what end it all came, she had only the vaguest +conception. It was all wonderful, all vast, all far removed, and she +sank in spirit inwardly and fluttered feebly at the heart as she thought +of entering any one of these mighty concerns and asking for something to +do—something that she could do—anything.<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +<small>WE QUESTION OF FORTUNE: FOUR-FIFTY A WEEK</small></h2> + +<p>Once across the river and into the wholesale district, she glanced about +her for some likely door at which to apply. As she contemplated the wide +windows and imposing signs, she became conscious of being gazed upon and +understood for what she was—a wage-seeker. She had never done this +thing before, and lacked courage. To avoid a certain indefinable shame +she felt at being caught spying about for a position, she quickened her +steps and assumed an air of indifference supposedly common to one upon +an errand. In this way she passed many manufacturing and wholesale +houses without once glancing in. At last, after several blocks of +walking, she felt that this would not do, and began to look about again, +though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she saw a great door +which, for some reason, attracted her attention. It was ornamented by a +small brass sign, and seemed to be the entrance to a vast hive of six or +seven floors. "Perhaps," she thought, "they may want some one," and +crossed over to enter. When she came within a score of feet of the +desired goal, she saw through the window a young man in a grey checked +suit. That he had anything to do with the concern, she could not tell, +but because he happened to be looking in her direction her weakening +heart misgave her and she hurried by, too overcome with shame to enter. +Over the way stood a great six-story structure, labelled Storm and King, +which<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> she viewed with rising hope. It was a wholesale dry goods concern +and employed women. She could see them moving about now and then upon +the upper floors. This place she decided to enter, no matter what. She +crossed over and walked directly toward the entrance. As she did so, two +men came out and paused in the door. A telegraph messenger in blue +dashed past her and up the few steps that led to the entrance and +disappeared. Several pedestrians out of the hurrying throng which filled +the sidewalks passed about her as she paused, hesitating. She looked +helplessly around, and then, seeing herself observed, retreated. It was +too difficult a task. She could not go past them.</p> + +<p>So severe a defeat told sadly upon her nerves. Her feet carried her +mechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactory +portion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after block passed by. +Upon street-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison, +Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feet +beginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased in part +that the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shining down +with steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the streets +pleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with more +realisation of its charm than had ever come to her before.</p> + +<p>Her cowardice began to trouble her in a way. She turned back, resolving +to hunt up Storm and King and enter. On the way she encountered a great +wholesale shoe company, through the broad plate windows of which she saw +an enclosed executive department, hidden by frosted glass. Without this +enclosure, but just within the street entrance, sat a grey-haired +gentleman at a small table, with a large open ledger before him. She +walked by this institution several times hesitating, but, finding<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> +herself unobserved, faltered past the screen door and stood humbly +waiting.</p> + +<p>"Well, young lady," observed the old gentleman, looking at her somewhat +kindly, "what is it you wish?"</p> + +<p>"I am, that is, do you—I mean, do you need any help?" she stammered.</p> + +<p>"Not just at present," he answered smiling. "Not just at present. Come +in some time next week. Occasionally we need some one."</p> + +<p>She received the answer in silence and backed awkwardly out. The +pleasant nature of her reception rather astonished her. She had expected +that it would be more difficult, that something cold and harsh would be +said—she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame and made to +feel her unfortunate position, seemed remarkable.</p> + +<p>Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It was a +clothing company, and more people were in evidence—well-dressed men of +forty and more, surrounded by brass railings.</p> + +<p>An office boy approached her.</p> + +<p>"Who is it you wish to see?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I want to see the manager," she said.</p> + +<p>He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men who were conferring +together. One of these came towards her.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said coldly. The greeting drove all courage from her at once.</p> + +<p>"Do you need any help?" she stammered.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel.</p> + +<p>She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially swinging the door +for her, and gladly sank into the obscuring crowd. It was a severe +setback to her recently pleased mental state.</p> + +<p>Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> and there, +seeing one great company after another, but finding no courage to +prosecute her single inquiry. High noon came, and with it hunger. She +hunted out an unassuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed to +find that the prices were exorbitant for the size of her purse. A bowl +of soup was all that she could afford, and, with this quickly eaten, she +went out again. It restored her strength somewhat and made her +moderately bold to pursue the search.</p> + +<p>In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable place, she again +encountered the firm of Storm and King, and this time managed to get in. +Some gentlemen were conferring close at hand, but took no notice of her. +She was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When the limit +of her distress had been nearly reached, she was beckoned to by a man at +one of the many desks within the near-by railing.</p> + +<p>"Who is it you wish to see?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Why, any one, if you please," she answered. "I am looking for something +to do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus," he returned. "Sit down," and he +pointed to a chair against the neighbouring wall. He went on leisurely +writing, until after a time a short, stout gentleman came in from the +street.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McManus," called the man at the desk, "this young woman wants to +see you."</p> + +<p>The short gentleman turned about towards Carrie, and she arose and came +forward.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, miss?" he inquired, surveying her curiously.</p> + +<p>"I want to know if I can get a position," she inquired.</p> + +<p>"As what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not as anything in particular," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?" +he questioned.<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a></p> + +<p>"No, sir," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Are you a stenographer or typewriter?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, we haven't anything here," he said. "We employ only experienced +help."</p> + +<p>She began to step backward toward the door, when something about her +plaintive face attracted him.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever worked at anything before?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, it's hardly possible that you would get anything to do in a +wholesale house of this kind. Have you tried the department stores?"</p> + +<p>She acknowledged that she had not.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I were you," he said, looking at her rather genially, "I would +try the department stores. They often need young women as clerks."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark of +friendly interest.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, as she moved toward the door, "you try the department +stores," and off he went.</p> + +<p>At that time the department store was in its earliest form of successful +operation, and there were not many. The first three in the United +States, established about 1884, were in Chicago. Carrie was familiar +with the names of several through the advertisements in the "Daily +News," and now proceeded to seek them. The words of Mr. McManus had +somehow managed to restore her courage, which had fallen low, and she +dared to hope that this new line would offer her something. Some time +she spent in wandering up and down, thinking to encounter the buildings +by chance, so readily is the mind, bent upon prosecuting a hard but +needful errand, eased by that self-deception which the semblance of +search, without the reality, gives. At last she inquired of a police<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> +officer, and was directed to proceed "two blocks up," where she would +find "The Fair."</p> + +<p>The nature of these vast retail combinations, should they ever +permanently disappear, will form an interesting chapter in the +commercial history of our nation. Such a flowering out of a modest trade +principle the world had never witnessed up to that time. They were along +the line of the most effective retail organisation, with hundreds of +stores coördinated into one and laid out upon the most imposing and +economic basis. They were handsome, bustling, successful affairs, with a +host of clerks and a swarm of patrons. Carrie passed along the busy +aisles, much affected by the remarkable displays of trinkets, dress +goods, stationery, and jewelry. Each separate counter was a show place +of dazzling interest and attraction. She could not help feeling the +claim of each trinket and valuable upon her personally, and yet she did +not stop. There was nothing there which she could not have used—nothing +which she did not long to own. The dainty slippers and stockings, the +delicately frilled skirts and petticoats, the laces, ribbons, +hair-combs, purses, all touched her with individual desire, and she felt +keenly the fact that not any of these things were in the range of her +purchase. She was a work-seeker, an outcast without employment, one whom +the average employee could tell at a glance was poor and in need of a +situation.</p> + +<p>It must not be thought that any one could have mistaken her for a +nervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, cast unduly upon a cold, +calculating, and unpoetic world. Such certainly she was not. But women +are peculiarly sensitive to their adornment.</p> + +<p>Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which was new and +pleasing in apparel for women, but she noticed too, with a touch at the +heart, the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her, brushing past in +utter disregard<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a> of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in the +materials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar with the +appearance of her more fortunate sisters of the city. Neither had she +before known the nature and appearance of the shop girls with whom she +now compared poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even handsome, +with an air of independence and indifference which added, in the case of +the more favoured, a certain piquancy. Their clothes were neat, in many +instances fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it was only +to recognise in it a keen analysis of her own position—her individual +shortcomings of dress and that shadow of <i>manner</i> which she thought must +hang about her and make clear to all who and what she was. A flame of +envy lighted in her heart. She realised in a dim way how much the city +held—wealth, fashion, ease—every adornment for women, and she longed +for dress and beauty with a whole heart.</p> + +<p>On the second floor were the managerial offices, to which, after some +inquiry, she was now directed. There she found other girls ahead of her, +applicants like herself, but with more of that self-satisfied and +independent air which experience of the city lends; girls who +scrutinised her in a painful manner. After a wait of perhaps +three-quarters of an hour, she was called in turn.</p> + +<p>"Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-top +desk near the window, "have you ever worked in any other store?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you haven't," he said, eyeing her keenly.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, we prefer young women just now with some experience. I guess we +can't use you."</p> + +<p>Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the interview had +terminated.<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here."</p> + +<p>Carrie began to move quickly to the door.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address. We +want girls occasionally."</p> + +<p>When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrain +the tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had just +experienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day. She was tired and +nervous. She abandoned the thought of appealing to the other department +stores and now wandered on, feeling a certain safety and relief in +mingling with the crowd.</p> + +<p>In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, not far +from the river, and was keeping her way along the south side of that +imposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper, written on with +marking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. It read, +"Girls wanted—wrappers & stitchers." She hesitated a moment, then +entered.</p> + +<p>The firm of Speigelheim & Co., makers of boys' caps, occupied one floor +of the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet in depth. It +was a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest portions having +incandescent lights, filled with machines and work benches. At the +latter laboured quite a company of girls and some men. The former were +drabby-looking creatures, stained in face with oil and dust, clad in +thin, shapeless, cotton dresses and shod with more or less worn shoes. +Many of them had their sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and in +some cases, owing to the heat, their dresses were open at the neck. They +were a fair type of nearly the lowest order of shop-girls—careless, +slouchy, and more or less pale from confinement. They were not timid, +however; were rich in curiosity, and strong in daring and slang.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> sure that she +did not want to work here. Aside from making her uncomfortable by +sidelong glances, no one paid her the least attention. She waited until +the whole department was aware of her presence. Then some word was sent +around, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt sleeves, the latter rolled +up to his shoulders, approached.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to see me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you need any help?" said Carrie, already learning directness of +address.</p> + +<p>"Do you know how to stitch caps?" he returned.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever had any experience at this kind of work?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>She answered that she had not.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the foreman, scratching his ear meditatively, "we do need a +stitcher. We like experienced help, though. We've hardly got time to +break people in." He paused and looked away out of the window. "We +might, though, put you at finishing," he concluded reflectively.</p> + +<p>"How much do you pay a week?" ventured Carrie, emboldened by a certain +softness in the man's manner and his simplicity of address.</p> + +<p>"Three and a half," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she was about to exclaim, but checked herself and allowed her +thoughts to die without expression.</p> + +<p>"We're not exactly in need of anybody," he went on vaguely, looking her +over as one would a package. "You can come on Monday morning, though," +he added, "and I'll put you to work."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Carrie weakly.</p> + +<p>"If you come, bring an apron," he added.</p> + +<p>He walked away and left her standing by the elevator, never so much as +inquiring her name.</p> + +<p>While the appearance of the shop and the announcement of the price paid +per week operated very much as a<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> blow to Carrie's fancy, the fact that +work of any kind was offered after so rude a round of experience was +gratifying. She could not begin to believe that she would take the +place, modest as her aspirations were. She had been used to better than +that. Her mere experience and the free out-of-door life of the country +caused her nature to revolt at such confinement. Dirt had never been her +share. Her sister's flat was clean. This place was grimy and low, the +girls were careless and hardened. They must be bad-minded and hearted, +she imagined. Still, a place had been offered her. Surely Chicago was +not so bad if she could find one place in one day. She might find +another and better later.</p> + +<p>Her subsequent experiences were not of a reassuring nature, however. +From all the more pleasing or imposing places she was turned away +abruptly with the most chilling formality. In others where she applied +only the experienced were required. She met with painful rebuffs, the +most trying of which had been in a manufacturing cloak house, where she +had gone to the fourth floor to inquire.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said the foreman, a rough, heavily built individual, who +looked after a miserably lighted workshop, "we don't want any one. Don't +come here."</p> + +<p>With the wane of the afternoon went her hopes, her courage, and her +strength. She had been astonishingly persistent. So earnest an effort +was well deserving of a better reward. On every hand, to her fatigued +senses, the great business portion grew larger, harder, more stolid in +its indifference. It seemed as if it was all closed to her, that the +struggle was too fierce for her to hope to do anything at all. Men and +women hurried by in long, shifting lines. She felt the flow of the tide +of effort and interest—felt her own helplessness without quite +realising the wisp on the tide that she was. She cast about vainly<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> for +some possible place to apply, but found no door which she had the +courage to enter. It would be the same thing all over. The old +humiliation of her plea, rewarded by curt denial. Sick at heart and in +body, she turned to the west, the direction of Minnie's flat, which she +had now fixed in mind, and began that wearisome, baffled retreat which +the seeker for employment at nightfall too often makes. In passing +through Fifth Avenue, south towards Van Buren Street, where she intended +to take a car, she passed the door of a large wholesale shoe house, +through the plate-glass window of which she could see a middle-aged +gentleman sitting at a small desk. One of those forlorn impulses which +often grow out of a fixed sense of defeat, the last sprouting of a +baffled and uprooted growth of ideas, seized upon her. She walked +deliberately through the door and up to the gentleman, who looked at her +weary face with partially awakened interest.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Can you give me something to do?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Now, I really don't know," he said kindly. "What kind of work is it you +want—you're not a typewriter, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, we only employ book-keepers and typewriters here. You might go +around to the side and inquire upstairs. They did want some help +upstairs a few days ago. Ask for Mr. Brown."</p> + +<p>She hastened around to the side entrance and was taken up by the +elevator to the fourth floor.</p> + +<p>"Call Mr. Brown, Willie," said the elevator man to a boy near by.</p> + +<p>Willie went off and presently returned with the information that Mr. +Brown said she should sit down and that he would be around in a little +while.</p> + +<p>It was a portion of the stock room which gave no idea<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> of the general +character of the place, and Carrie could form no opinion of the nature +of the work.</p> + +<p>"So you want something to do," said Mr. Brown, after he inquired +concerning the nature of her errand. "Have you ever been employed in a +shoe factory before?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" he inquired, and being informed, "Well, I don't +know as I have anything for you. Would you work for four and a half a +week?"</p> + +<p>Carrie was too worn by defeat not to feel that it was considerable. She +had not expected that he would offer her less than six. She acquiesced, +however, and he took her name and address.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, finally, "you report here at eight o'clock Monday +morning. I think I can find something for you to do."</p> + +<p>He left her revived by the possibilities, sure that she had found +something at last. Instantly the blood crept warmly over her body. Her +nervous tension relaxed. She walked out into the busy street and +discovered a new atmosphere. Behold, the throng was moving with a +lightsome step. She noticed that men and women were smiling. Scraps of +conversation and notes of laughter floated to her. The air was light. +People were already pouring out of the buildings, their labour ended for +the day. She noticed that they were pleased, and thoughts of her +sister's home and the meal that would be awaiting her quickened her +steps. She hurried on, tired perhaps, but no longer weary of foot. What +would not Minnie say! Ah, the long winter in Chicago—the lights, the +crowd, the amusement! This was a great, pleasing metropolis after all. +Her new firm was a goodly institution. Its windows were of huge plate +glass. She could probably do well there. Thoughts of Drouet returned—of +the things he had told her. She now felt that life was better,<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> that it +was livelier, sprightlier. She boarded a car in the best of spirits, +feeling her blood still flowing pleasantly. She would live in Chicago, +her mind kept saying to itself. She would have a better time than she +had ever had before—she would be happy.<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +<small>THE SPENDINGS OF FANCY: FACTS ANSWER WITH SNEERS</small></h2> + +<p>For the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high-flown +speculations.</p> + +<p>Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and amusements which would +have been much more becoming had she been cradled a child of fortune. +With ready will and quick mental selection she scattered her meagre +four-fifty per week with a swift and graceful hand. Indeed, as she sat +in her rocking-chair these several evenings before going to bed and +looked out upon the pleasantly lighted street, this money cleared for +its prospective possessor the way to every joy and every bauble which +the heart of woman may desire. "I will have a fine time," she thought.</p> + +<p>Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild cerebrations, though +they exhausted the markets of delight. She was too busy scrubbing the +kitchen wood-work and calculating the purchasing power of eighty cents +for Sunday's dinner. When Carrie had returned home, flushed with her +first success and ready, for all her weariness, to discuss the now +interesting events which led up to her achievement, the former had +merely smiled approvingly and inquired whether she would have to spend +any of it for car fare. This consideration had not entered in before, +and it did not now for long affect the glow of Carrie's enthusiasm. +Disposed as she then was to calculate upon that vague basis which allows +the subtraction<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> of one sum from another without any perceptible +diminution, she was happy.</p> + +<p>When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was inclined to be a little +crusty—his usual demeanour before supper. This never showed so much in +anything he said as in a certain solemnity of countenance and the silent +manner in which he slopped about. He had a pair of yellow carpet +slippers which he enjoyed wearing, and these he would immediately +substitute for his solid pair of shoes. This, and washing his face with +the aid of common washing soap until it glowed a shiny red, constituted +his only preparation for his evening meal. He would then get his evening +paper and read in silence.</p> + +<p>For a young man, this was rather a morbid turn of character, and so +affected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere of the flat, +as such things are inclined to do, and gave to his wife's mind its +subdued and tactful turn, anxious to avoid taciturn replies. Under the +influence of Carrie's announcement he brightened up somewhat.</p> + +<p>"You didn't lose any time, did you?" he remarked, smiling a little.</p> + +<p>"No," returned Carrie with a touch of pride.</p> + +<p>He asked her one or two more questions and then turned to play with the +baby, leaving the subject until it was brought up again by Minnie at the +table.</p> + +<p>Carrie, however, was not to be reduced to the common level of +observation which prevailed in the flat.</p> + +<p>"It seems to be such a large company," she said, at one place. "Great +big plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. The man I saw said they +hired ever so many people."</p> + +<p>"It's not very hard to get work now," put in Hanson, "if you look +right."</p> + +<p>Minnie, under the warming influence of Carrie's good spirits and her +husband's somewhat conversational mood,<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> began to tell Carrie of some of +the well-known things to see—things the enjoyment of which cost +nothing.</p> + +<p>"You'd like to see Michigan Avenue. There are such fine houses. It is +such a fine street."</p> + +<p>"Where is 'H. R. Jacob's'?" interrupted Carrie, mentioning one of the +theatres devoted to melodrama which went by that name at the time.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not very far from here," answered Minnie. "It's in Halstead +Street, right up here."</p> + +<p>"How I'd like to go there. I crossed Halstead Street to-day, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>At this there was a slight halt in the natural reply. Thoughts are a +strangely permeating factor. At her suggestion of going to the theatre, +the unspoken shade of disapproval to the doing of those things which +involved the expenditure of money—shades of feeling which arose in the +mind of Hanson and then in Minnie—slightly affected the atmosphere of +the table. Minnie answered "yes," but Carrie could feel that going to +the theatre was poorly advocated here. The subject was put off for a +little while until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper and +went into the front room.</p> + +<p>When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freer +conversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as they worked at +the dishes.</p> + +<p>"I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it isn't too far," +said Carrie, after a time. "Why don't we go to the theatre to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think Sven would want to go to-night," returned Minnie. "He +has to get up so early."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't mind—he'd enjoy it," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"No, he doesn't go very often," returned Minnie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like to go," rejoined Carrie. "Let's you and me go."</p> + +<p>Minnie pondered a while, not upon whether she could<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> or would go—for +that point was already negatively settled with her—but upon some means +of diverting the thoughts of her sister to some other topic.</p> + +<p>"We'll go some other time," she said at last, finding no ready means of +escape.</p> + +<p>Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once.</p> + +<p>"I have some money," she said. "You go with me."</p> + +<p>Minnie shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He could go along," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"No," returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to drown the +conversation. "He wouldn't."</p> + +<p>It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and in that time +the latter's character had developed a few shades. Naturally timid in +all things that related to her own advancement, and especially so when +without power or resource, her craving for pleasure was so strong that +it was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that when silent +on all else.</p> + +<p>"Ask him," she pleaded softly.</p> + +<p>Minnie was thinking of the resource which Carrie's board would add. It +would pay the rent and would make the subject of expenditure a little +less difficult to talk about with her husband. But if Carrie was going +to think of running around in the beginning there would be a hitch +somewhere. Unless Carrie submitted to a solemn round of industry and saw +the need of hard work without longing for play, how was her coming to +the city to profit them? These thoughts were not those of a cold, hard +nature at all. They were the serious reflections of a mind which +invariably adjusted itself, without much complaining, to such +surroundings as its industry could make for it.</p> + +<p>At last she yielded enough to ask Hanson. It was a half-hearted +procedure without a shade of desire on her part.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> + +<p>"Carrie wants us to go to the theatre," she said, looking in upon her +husband. Hanson looked up from his paper, and they exchanged a mild +look, which said as plainly as anything: "This isn't what we expected."</p> + +<p>"I don't care to go," he returned. "What does she want to see?"</p> + +<p>"H. R. Jacob's," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>He looked down at his paper and shook his head negatively.</p> + +<p>When Carrie saw how they looked upon her proposition, she gained a still +clearer feeling of their way of life. It weighed on her, but took no +definite form of opposition.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go down and stand at the foot of the stairs," she said, +after a time.</p> + +<p>Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her hat and went +below.</p> + +<p>"Where has Carrie gone?" asked Hanson, coming back into the dining-room +when he heard the door close.</p> + +<p>"She said she was going down to the foot of the stairs," answered +Minnie. "I guess she just wants to look out a while."</p> + +<p>"She oughtn't to be thinking about spending her money on theatres +already, do you think?" he said.</p> + +<p>"She just feels a little curious, I guess," ventured Minnie. "Everything +is so new."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Hanson, and went over to the baby, his forehead +slightly wrinkled.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wastefulness which a +young girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie could contemplate +such a course when she had so little, as yet, with which to do.</p> + +<p>On Saturday Carrie went out by herself—first toward the river, which +interested her, and then back along Jackson Street, which was then lined +by the pretty houses and fine lawns which subsequently caused it to be +made into<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences of wealth, +although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street worth more than +a hundred thousand dollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, because +already she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interest +and joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberal +character, and she punctuated them with speculations as to the +whereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might call anyhow +Monday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed at the possibility, +there was, nevertheless, just the shade of a wish that he would.</p> + +<p>On Monday she arose early and prepared to go to work. She dressed +herself in a worn shirt-waist of dotted blue percale, a skirt of +light-brown serge rather faded, and a small straw hat which she had worn +all summer at Columbia City. Her shoes were old, and her necktie was in +that crumpled, flattened state which time and much wearing impart. She +made a very average looking shop-girl with the exception of her +features. These were slightly more even than common, and gave her a +sweet, reserved, and pleasing appearance.</p> + +<p>It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when one is used to +sleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had been at home. She gained +some inkling of the character of Hanson's life when, half asleep, she +looked out into the dining-room at six o'clock and saw him silently +finishing his breakfast. By the time she was dressed he was gone, and +she, Minnie, and the baby ate together, the latter being just old enough +to sit in a high chair and disturb the dishes with a spoon. Her spirits +were greatly subdued now when the fact of entering upon strange and +untried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her fine fancies +were remaining—ashes still concealing, nevertheless, a few red embers +of hope. So subdued was she by her weakening nerves, that she ate quite +in silence,<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> going over imaginary conceptions of the character of the +shoe company, the nature of the work, her employer's attitude. She was +vaguely feeling that she would come in contact with the great owners, +that her work would be where grave, stylishly dressed men occasionally +look on.</p> + +<p>"Well, good luck," said Minnie, when she was ready to go. They had +agreed it was best to walk, that morning at least, to see if she could +do it every day—sixty cents a week for car fare being quite an item +under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how it goes to-night," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in either +direction, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the small +clerks and floor help in the great wholesale houses, and men and women +generally coming out of doors and passing about the neighbourhood, +Carrie felt slightly reassured. In the sunshine of the morning, beneath +the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, what fears, except the +most desperate, can find a harbourage? In the night, or the gloomy +chambers of the day, fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in the +sunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death.</p> + +<p>Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and then +turned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part, was like a +walled cañon of brown stone and dark red brick. The big windows looked +shiny and clean. Trucks were rumbling in increasing numbers; men and +women, girls and boys were moving onward in all directions. She met +girls of her own age, who looked at her as if with contempt for her +diffidence. She wondered at the magnitude of this life and at the +importance of knowing much in order to do anything in it at all. Dread +at her own inefficiency crept upon her. She would not know how, she +would not be quick enough. Had not all the other places refused her +because she did not know<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> something or other? She would be scolded, +abused, ignominiously discharged.</p> + +<p>It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breathing that she came +up to the great shoe company at Adams and Fifth Avenue and entered the +elevator. When she stepped out on the fourth floor there was no one at +hand, only great aisles of boxes piled to the ceiling. She stood, very +much frightened, awaiting some one.</p> + +<p>Presently Mr. Brown came up. He did not seem to recognise her.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Carrie's heart sank.</p> + +<p>"You said I should come this morning to see about work——"</p> + +<p>"Oh," he interrupted. "Um—yes. What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Carrie Meeber."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he. "You come with me."</p> + +<p>He led the way through dark, box-lined aisles which had the smell of new +shoes, until they came to an iron door which opened into the factory +proper. There was a large, low-ceiled room, with clacking, rattling +machines at which men in white shirt sleeves and blue gingham aprons +were working. She followed him diffidently through the clattering +automatons, keeping her eyes straight before her, and flushing slightly. +They crossed to a far corner and took an elevator to the sixth floor. +Out of the array of machines and benches, Mr. Brown signalled a foreman.</p> + +<p>"This is the girl," he said, and turning to Carrie, "You go with him." +He then returned, and Carrie followed her new superior to a little desk +in a corner, which he used as a kind of official centre.</p> + +<p>"You've never worked at anything like this before, have you?" he +questioned, rather sternly.<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a></p> + +<p>"No, sir," she answered.</p> + +<p>He seemed rather annoyed at having to bother with such help, but put +down her name and then led her across to where a line of girls occupied +stools in front of clacking machines. On the shoulder of one of the +girls who was punching eye-holes in one piece of the upper, by the aid +of the machine, he put his hand.</p> + +<p>"You," he said, "show this girl how to do what you're doing. When you +get through, come to me."</p> + +<p>The girl so addressed rose promptly and gave Carrie her place.</p> + +<p>"It isn't hard to do," she said, bending over. "You just take this so, +fasten it with this clamp, and start the machine."</p> + +<p>She suited action to word, fastened the piece of leather, which was +eventually to form the right half of the upper of a man's shoe, by +little adjustable clamps, and pushed a small steel rod at the side of +the machine. The latter jumped to the task of punching, with sharp, +snapping clicks, cutting circular bits of leather out of the side of the +upper, leaving the holes which were to hold the laces. After observing a +few times, the girl let her work at it alone. Seeing that it was fairly +well done, she went away.</p> + +<p>The pieces of leather came from the girl at the machine to her right, +and were passed on to the girl at her left. Carrie saw at once that an +average speed was necessary or the work would pile up on her and all +those below would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and bent +anxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realised her +predicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much as +they dared, by working slower.</p> + +<p>At this task she laboured incessantly for some time, finding relief from +her own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum, mechanical movement +of the machine. She felt, as the minutes passed, that the room was not +very<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> light. It had a thick odour of fresh leather, but that did not +worry her. She felt the eyes of the other help upon her, and troubled +lest she was not working fast enough.</p> + +<p>Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having made a slight +error in setting in the leather, a great hand appeared before her eyes +and fastened the clamp for her. It was the foreman. Her heart thumped so +that she could scarcely see to go on.</p> + +<p>"Start your machine," he said, "start your machine. Don't keep the line +waiting."</p> + +<p>This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly on, hardly +breathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then she heaved a +great breath.</p> + +<p>As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the need of a +breath of fresh air and a drink of water, but did not venture to stir. +The stool she sat on was without a back or foot-rest, and she began to +feel uncomfortable. She found, after a time, that her back was beginning +to ache. She twisted and turned from one position to another slightly +different, but it did not ease her for long. She was beginning to weary.</p> + +<p>"Stand up, why don't you?" said the girl at her right, without any form +of introduction. "They won't care."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at her gratefully. "I guess I will," she said.</p> + +<p>She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it was +a more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders ached in bending over.</p> + +<p>The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She did +not venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she could +hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of the +side of her eye.</p> + +<p>"Did you see Harry last night?" said the girl at her left, addressing +her neighbour.<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a></p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark."</p> + +<p>"S-s-t," said the other girl, bending over her work. The first, +silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foreman passed slowly +along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he was gone, the +conversation was resumed again.</p> + +<p>"Say," began the girl at her left, "what jeh think he said?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin's last night."</p> + +<p>"No!" They both giggled.</p> + +<p>A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping very badly, came +shuffling along between the machines, bearing a basket of leather +findings under his left arm, and pressed against his stomach. When near +Carrie, he stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under the +arm.</p> + +<p>"Aw, let me go," she exclaimed angrily. "Duffer."</p> + +<p>He only grinned broadly in return.</p> + +<p>"Rubber!" he called back as she looked after him. There was nothing of +the gallant in him.</p> + +<p>Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began to tire and she +wanted to get up and stretch. Would noon never come? It seemed as if she +had worked an entire day. She was not hungry at all, but weak, and her +eyes were tired, straining at the one point where the eye-punch came +down. The girl at the right noticed her squirmings and felt sorry for +her. She was concentrating herself too thoroughly—what she did really +required less mental and physical strain. There was nothing to be done, +however. The halves of the uppers came piling steadily down. Her hands +began to ache at the wrists and then in the fingers,<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> and towards the +last she seemed one mass of dull, complaining muscles, fixed in an +eternal position and performing a single mechanical movement which +became more and more distasteful, until at last it was absolutely +nauseating. When she was wondering whether the strain would ever cease, +a dull-sounding bell clanged somewhere down an elevator shaft, and the +end came. In an instant there was a buzz of action and conversation. All +the girls instantly left their stools and hurried away in an adjoining +room, men passed through, coming from some department which opened on +the right. The whirling wheels began to sing in a steadily modifying +key, until at last they died away in a low buzz. There was an audible +stillness, in which the common voice sounded strange.</p> + +<p>Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, a little dizzy, +and very thirsty. On the way to the small space portioned off by wood, +where all the wraps and lunches were kept, she encountered the foreman, +who stared at her hard.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "did you get along all right?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," she replied, very respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Um," he replied, for want of something better, and walked on.</p> + +<p>Under better material conditions, this kind of work would not have been +so bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant working conditions +for employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing companies.</p> + +<p>The place smelled of the oil of the machines and the new leather—a +combination which, added to the stale odours of the building, was not +pleasant even in cold weather. The floor, though regularly swept every +evening, presented a littered surface. Not the slightest provision had +been made for the comfort of the employees, the idea being that +something was gained by giving them as little<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a> and making the work as +hard and unremunerative as possible. What we know of foot-rests, +swivel-back chairs, dining-rooms for the girls, clean aprons and curling +irons supplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought of. The +washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and the whole +atmosphere was sordid.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of water from a +bucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. The other girls had +ranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those of the +men who had gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a couple or a +group of girls, and being too timid to think of intruding herself, she +sought out her machine and, seated upon her stool, opened her lunch on +her lap. There she sat listening to the chatter and comment about her. +It was, for the most part, silly and graced by the current slang. +Several of the men in the room exchanged compliments with the girls at +long range.</p> + +<p>"Say, Kitty," called one to a girl who was doing a waltz step in a few +feet of space near one of the windows, "are you going to the ball with +me?"</p> + +<p>"Look out, Kitty," called another, "you'll jar your back hair."</p> + +<p>"Go on, Rubber," was her only comment.</p> + +<p>As Carrie listened to this and much more of similar familiar badinage +among the men and girls, she instinctively withdrew into herself. She +was not used to this type, and felt that there was something hard and +low about it all. She feared that the young boys about would address +such remarks to her—boys who, beside Drouet, seemed uncouth and +ridiculous. She made the average feminine distinction between clothes, +putting worth, goodness, and distinction in a dress suit, and leaving +all the unlovely qualities and those beneath notice in overalls and +jumper.<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p> + +<p>She was glad when the short half hour was over and the wheels began to +whirr again. Though wearied, she would be inconspicuous. This illusion +ended when another young man passed along the aisle and poked her +indifferently in the ribs with his thumb. She turned about, indignation +leaping to her eyes, but he had gone on and only once turned to grin. +She found it difficult to conquer an inclination to cry.</p> + +<p>The girl next her noticed her state of mind. "Don't you mind," she said. +"He's too fresh."</p> + +<p>Carrie said nothing, but bent over her work. She felt as though she +could hardly endure such a life. Her idea of work had been so entirely +different. All during the long afternoon she thought of the city outside +and its imposing show, crowds, and fine buildings. Columbia City and the +better side of her home life came back. By three o'clock she was sure it +must be six, and by four it seemed as if they had forgotten to note the +hour and were letting all work overtime. The foreman became a true ogre, +prowling constantly about, keeping her tied down to her miserable task. +What she heard of the conversation about her only made her feel sure +that she did not want to make friends with any of these. When six +o'clock came she hurried eagerly away, her arms aching and her limbs +stiff from sitting in one position.</p> + +<p>As she passed out along the hall after getting her hat, a young machine +hand, attracted by her looks, made bold to jest with her.</p> + +<p>"Say, Maggie," he called, "if you wait, I'll walk with you."</p> + +<p>It was thrown so straight in her direction that she knew who was meant, +but never turned to look.</p> + +<p>In the crowded elevator, another dusty, toil-stained youth tried to make +an impression on her by leering in her face.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a></p> + +<p>One young man, waiting on the walk outside for the appearance of +another, grinned at her as she passed.</p> + +<p>"Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely.</p> + +<p>Carrie turned her face to the west with a subdued heart. As she turned +the corner, she saw through the great shiny window the small desk at +which she had applied. There were the crowds, hurrying with the same +buzz and energy-yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slight relief, but it +was only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face of better dressed +girls who went by. She felt as though she should be better served, and +her heart revolted.<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +<small>A GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER: THE USE OF A NAME</small></h2> + +<p>Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the letter, he had +laid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floating +around having what he considered a gay time. On this particular evening +he dined at "Rector's," a restaurant of some local fame, which occupied +a basement at Clark and Monroe Streets. Thereafter he visited the resort +of Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams Street, opposite the imposing Federal +Building. There he leaned over the splendid bar and swallowed a glass of +plain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of which he lighted. +This to him represented in part high life—a fair sample of what the +whole must be.</p> + +<p>Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a moneyed man. He only +craved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such doings seemed to him +a part of the best. Rector's, with its polished marble walls and floor, +its profusion of lights, its show of china and silverware, and, above +all, its reputation as a resort for actors and professional men, seemed +to him the proper place for a successful man to go. He loved fine +clothes, good eating, and particularly the company and acquaintanceship +of successful men. When dining, it was a source of keen satisfaction to +him to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come to this same place, +or that Henry E. Dixie, a well-known performer of the day, was then only +a few tables off. At Rector's he could always obtain this satisfaction,<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> +for there one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, some rich +young "rounders" of the town, all eating and drinking amid a buzz of +popular commonplace conversation.</p> + +<p>"That's So-and-so over there," was a common remark of these gentlemen +among themselves, particularly among those who had not yet reached, but +hoped to do so, the dazzling height which money to dine here lavishly +represented.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so," would be the reply.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager of the Grand Opera +House."</p> + +<p>When these things would fall upon Drouet's ears, he would straighten +himself a little more stiffly and eat with solid comfort. If he had any +vanity, this augmented it, and if he had any ambition, this stirred it. +He would be able to flash a roll of greenbacks too some day. As it was, +he could eat where <i>they</i> did.</p> + +<p>His preference for Fitzgerald and Moy's Adams Street place was another +yard off the same cloth. This was really a gorgeous saloon from a +Chicago standpoint. Like Rector's, it was also ornamented with a blaze +of incandescent lights, held in handsome chandeliers. The floors were of +brightly coloured tiles, the walls a composition of rich, dark, polished +wood, which reflected the light, and coloured stucco-work, which gave +the place a very sumptuous appearance. The long bar was a blaze of +lights, polished wood-work, coloured and cut glassware, and many fancy +bottles. It was a truly swell saloon, with rich screens, fancy wines, +and a line of bar goods unsurpassed in the country.</p> + +<p>At Rector's, Drouet had met Mr. G. W. Hurstwood, manager of Fitzgerald +and Moy's. He had been pointed out as a very successful and well-known +man about town. Hurstwood looked the part, for, besides<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> being slightly +under forty, he had a good, stout constitution, an active manner, and a +solid, substantial air, which was composed in part of his fine clothes, +his clean linen, his jewels, and, above all, his own sense of his +importance. Drouet immediately conceived a notion of him as being some +one worth knowing, and was glad not only to meet him, but to visit the +Adams Street bar thereafter whenever he wanted a drink or a cigar.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was an interesting character after his kind. He was shrewd and +clever in many little things, and capable of creating a good impression. +His managerial position was fairly important—a kind of stewardship +which was imposing, but lacked financial control. He had risen by +perseverance and industry, through long years of service, from the +position of barkeeper in a commonplace saloon to his present altitude. +He had a little office in the place, set off in polished cherry and +grill-work, where he kept, in a roll-top desk, the rather simple +accounts of the place—supplies ordered and needed. The chief executive +and financial functions devolved upon the owners—Messrs. Fitzgerald and +Moy—and upon a cashier who looked after the money taken in.</p> + +<p>For the most part he lounged about, dressed in excellent tailored suits +of imported goods, a solitaire ring, a fine blue diamond in his tie, a +striking vest of some new pattern, and a watch-chain of solid gold, +which held a charm of rich design, and a watch of the latest make and +engraving. He knew by name, and could greet personally with a "Well, old +fellow," hundreds of actors, merchants, politicians, and the general run +of successful characters about town, and it was part of his success to +do so. He had a finely graduated scale of informality and friendship, +which improved from the "How do you do?" addressed to the +fifteen-dollar-a-week clerks and office attachés, who, by long +frequenting of the place, became aware of his position,<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> to the "Why, +old man, how are you?" which he addressed to those noted or rich +individuals who knew him and were inclined to be friendly. There was a +class, however, too rich, too famous, or too successful, with whom he +could not attempt any familiarity of address, and with these he was +professionally tactful, assuming a grave and dignified attitude, paying +them the deference which would win their good feeling without in the +least compromising his own bearing and opinions. There were, in the last +place, a few good followers, neither rich nor poor, famous, nor yet +remarkably successful, with whom he was friendly on the score of +good-fellowship. These were the kind of men with whom he would converse +longest and most seriously. He loved to go out and have a good time once +in a while—to go to the races, the theatres, the sporting +entertainments at some of the clubs. He kept a horse and neat trap, had +his wife and two children, who were well established in a neat house on +the North Side near Lincoln Park, and was altogether a very acceptable +individual of our great American upper class—the first grade below the +luxuriously rich.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood liked Drouet. The latter's genial nature and dressy appearance +pleased him. He knew that Drouet was only a travelling salesman—and not +one of many years at that—but the firm of Bartlett, Caryoe & Company +was a large and prosperous house, and Drouet stood well. Hurstwood knew +Caryoe quite well, having drunk a glass now and then with him, in +company with several others, when the conversation was general. Drouet +had what was a help in his business, a moderate sense of humour, and +could tell a good story when the occasion required. He could talk races +with Hurstwood, tell interesting incidents concerning himself and his +experiences with women, and report the state of trade in the cities +which he visited, and so managed to make himself<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a> almost invariably +agreeable. To-night he was particularly so, since his report to the +company had been favourably commented upon, his new samples had been +satisfactorily selected, and his trip marked out for the next six weeks.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Charlie, old man," said Hurstwood, as Drouet came in that +evening about eight o'clock. "How goes it?" The room was crowded.</p> + +<p>Drouet shook hands, beaming good nature, and they strolled towards the +bar.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right."</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen you in six weeks. When did you get in?"</p> + +<p>"Friday," said Drouet. "Had a fine trip."</p> + +<p>"Glad of it," said Hurstwood, his black eyes lit with a warmth which +half displaced the cold make-believe that usually dwelt in them. "What +are you going to take?" he added, as the barkeeper, in snowy jacket and +tie, leaned toward them from behind the bar.</p> + +<p>"Old Pepper," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"A little of the same for me," put in Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"How long are you in town this time?" inquired Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Only until Wednesday. I'm going up to St. Paul."</p> + +<p>"George Evans was in here Saturday and said he saw you in Milwaukee last +week."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw George," returned Drouet. "Great old boy, isn't he? We had +quite a time there together."</p> + +<p>The barkeeper was setting out the glasses and bottle before them, and +they now poured out the draught as they talked, Drouet filling his to +within a third of full, as was considered proper, and Hurstwood taking +the barest suggestion of whiskey and modifying it with seltzer.</p> + +<p>"What's become of Caryoe?" remarked Hurstwood. "I haven't seen him +around here in two weeks."<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a></p> + +<p>"Laid up, they say," exclaimed Drouet. "Say, he's a gouty old boy!"</p> + +<p>"Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, wads of it," returned Drouet. "He won't live much longer. Barely +comes down to the office now."</p> + +<p>"Just one boy, hasn't he?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a swift-pacer," laughed Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I guess he can't hurt the business very much, though, with the other +members all there."</p> + +<p>"No, he can't injure that any, I guess."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the +light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable +distinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort.</p> + +<p>To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more serious turn of +mind, such a bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber must ever seem an +anomaly, a strange commentary on nature and life. Here come the moths, +in endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame. Such +conversation as one may hear would not warrant a commendation of the +scene upon intellectual grounds. It seems plain that schemers would +choose more sequestered quarters to arrange their plans, that +politicians would not gather here in company to discuss anything save +formalities, where the sharp-eared may hear, and it would scarcely be +justified on the score of thirst, for the majority of those who frequent +these more gorgeous places have no craving for liquor. Nevertheless, the +fact that here men gather, here chatter, here love to pass and rub +elbows, must be explained upon some grounds. It must be that a strange +bundle of passions and vague desires give rise to such a curious social +institution or it would not be.</p> + +<p>Drouet, for one, was lured as much by his longing for pleasure as by his +desire to shine among his betters. The many friends he met here dropped +in because they craved,<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a> without, perhaps, consciously analysing it, the +company, the glow, the atmosphere which they found. One might take it, +after all, as an augur of the better social order, for the things which +they satisfied here, though sensory, were not evil. No evil could come +out of the contemplation of an expensively decorated chamber. The worst +effect of such a thing would be, perhaps, to stir up in the +material-minded an ambition to arrange their lives upon a similarly +splendid basis. In the last analysis, that would scarcely be called the +fault of the decorations, but rather of the innate trend of the mind. +That such a scene might stir the less expensively dressed to emulate the +more expensively dressed could scarcely be laid at the door of anything +save the false ambition of the minds of those so affected. Remove the +element so thoroughly and solely complained of—liquor—and there would +not be one to gainsay the qualities of beauty and enthusiasm which would +remain. The pleased eye with which our modern restaurants of fashion are +looked upon is proof of this assertion.</p> + +<p>Yet, here is the fact of the lighted chamber, the dressy, greedy +company, the small, self-interested palaver, the disorganized, aimless, +wandering mental action which it represents—the love of light and show +and finery which, to one outside, under the serene light of the eternal +stars, must seem a strange and shiny thing. Under the stars and sweeping +night winds, what a lamp-flower it must bloom; a strange, glittering +night-flower, odour-yielding, insect-drawing, insect-infested rose of +pleasure.</p> + +<p>"See that fellow coming in there?" said Hurstwood, glancing at a +gentleman just entering, arrayed in a high hat and Prince Albert coat, +his fat cheeks puffed and red as with good eating.</p> + +<p>"No, where?" said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"There," said Hurstwood, indicating the direction by a cast of his eye, +"the man with the silk hat."<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Drouet, now affecting not to see. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"That's Jules Wallace, the spiritualist."</p> + +<p>Drouet followed him with his eyes, much interested.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't look much like a man who sees spirits, does he?" said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," returned Hurstwood. "He's got the money, all right," +and a little twinkle passed over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't go much on those things, do you?" asked Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Well, you never can tell," said Hurstwood. "There may be something to +it. I wouldn't bother about it myself, though. By the way," he added, +"are you going anywhere to-night?"</p> + +<p>"'The Hole in the Ground,'" said Drouet, mentioning the popular farce of +the time.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better be going. It's half after eight already," and he +drew out his watch.</p> + +<p>The crowd was already thinning out considerably—some bound for the +theatres, some to their clubs, and some to that most fascinating of all +the pleasures—for the type of man there represented, at least—the +ladies.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Come around after the show. I have something I want to show you," said +Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Drouet, elated.</p> + +<p>"You haven't anything on hand for the night, have you?" added Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Not a thing."</p> + +<p>"Well, come round, then."</p> + +<p>"I struck a little peach coming in on the train Friday," remarked +Drouet, by way of parting. "By George, that's so, I must go and call on +her before I go away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind her," Hurstwood remarked.<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a></p> + +<p>"Say, she was a little dandy, I tell you," went on Drouet +confidentially, and trying to impress his friend.</p> + +<p>"Twelve o'clock," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Drouet, going out.</p> + +<p>Thus was Carrie's name bandied about in the most frivolous and gay of +places, and that also when the little toiler was bemoaning her narrow +lot, which was almost inseparable from the early stages of this, her +unfolding fate.<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +<small>THE MACHINE AND THE MAIDEN: A KNIGHT OF TO-DAY</small></h2> + +<p>At the flat that evening Carrie felt a new phase of its atmosphere. The +fact that it was unchanged, while her feelings were different, increased +her knowledge of its character. Minnie, after the good spirits Carrie +manifested at first, expected a fair report. Hanson supposed that Carrie +would be satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, as he came in from the hall in his working clothes, and +looked at Carrie through the dining-room door, "how did you make out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Carrie, "it's pretty hard. I don't like it."</p> + +<p>There was an air about her which showed plainer than any words that she +was both weary and disappointed.</p> + +<p>"What sort of work is it?" he asked, lingering a moment as he turned +upon his heel to go into the bathroom.</p> + +<p>"Running a machine," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>It was very evident that it did not concern him much, save from the side +of the flat's success. He was irritated a shade because it could not +have come about in the throw of fortune for Carrie to be pleased.</p> + +<p>Minnie worked with less elation than she had just before Carrie arrived. +The sizzle of the meat frying did not sound quite so pleasing now that +Carrie had reported her discontent. To Carrie, the one relief of the +whole day would have been a jolly home, a sympathetic reception, a +bright supper table, and some one to say: "Oh, well, stand it a little +while. You will get something better,"<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a> but now this was ashes. She +began to see that they looked upon her complaint as unwarranted, and +that she was supposed to work on and say nothing. She knew that she was +to pay four dollars for her board and room, and now she felt that it +would be an exceedingly gloomy round, living with these people.</p> + +<p>Minnie was no companion for her sister—she was too old. Her thoughts +were staid and solemnly adapted to a condition. If Hanson had any +pleasant thoughts or happy feelings he concealed them. He seemed to do +all his mental operations without the aid of physical expression. He was +as still as a deserted chamber. Carrie, on the other hand, had the blood +of youth and some imagination. Her day of love and the mysteries of +courtship were still ahead. She could think of things she would like to +do, of clothes she would like to wear, and of places she would like to +visit. These were the things upon which her mind ran, and it was like +meeting with opposition at every turn to find no one here to call forth +or respond to her feelings.</p> + +<p>She had forgotten, in considering and explaining the result of her day, +that Drouet might come. Now, when she saw how unreceptive these two +people were, she hoped he would not. She did not know exactly what she +would do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After supper +she changed her clothes. When she was trimly dressed she was rather a +sweet little being, with large eyes and a sad mouth. Her face expressed +the mingled expectancy, dissatisfaction, and depression she felt. She +wandered about after the dishes were put away, talked a little with +Minnie, and then decided to go down and stand in the door at the foot of +the stairs. If Drouet came, she could meet him there. Her face took on +the semblance of a look of happiness as she put on her hat to go below.</p> + +<p>"Carrie doesn't seem to like her place very well," said<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> Minnie to her +husband when the latter came out, paper in hand, to sit in the +dining-room a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"She ought to keep it for a time, anyhow," said Hanson. "Has she gone +downstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>"I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be here weeks without +getting another one."</p> + +<p>Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper.</p> + +<p>"If I were you," he said a little later, "I wouldn't let her stand in +the door down there. It don't look good."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell her," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>The life of the streets continued for a long time to interest Carrie. +She never wearied of wondering where the people in the cars were going +or what their enjoyments were. Her imagination trod a very narrow round, +always winding up at points which concerned money, looks, clothes, or +enjoyment. She would have a far-off thought of Columbia City now and +then, or an irritating rush of feeling concerning her experiences of the +present day, but, on the whole, the little world about her enlisted her +whole attention.</p> + +<p>The first floor of the building, of which Hanson's flat was the third, +was occupied by a bakery, and to this, while she was standing there, +Hanson came down to buy a loaf of bread. She was not aware of his +presence until he was quite near her.</p> + +<p>"I'm after bread," was all he said as he passed.</p> + +<p>The contagion of thought here demonstrated itself. While Hanson really +came for bread, the thought dwelt with him that now he would see what +Carrie was doing. No sooner did he draw near her with that in mind than +she felt it. Of course, she had no understanding of what put it into her +head, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the first shade of real +antipathy to him. She knew now that she did not like him. He was +suspicious.<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a></p> + +<p>A thought will colour a world for us. The flow of Carrie's meditations +had been disturbed, and Hanson had not long gone upstairs before she +followed. She had realised with the lapse of the quarter hours that +Drouet was not coming, and somehow she felt a little resentful, a little +as if she had been forsaken—was not good enough. She went upstairs, +where everything was silent. Minnie was sewing by a lamp at the table. +Hanson had already turned in for the night. In her weariness and +disappointment Carrie did no more than announce that she was going to +bed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you'd better," returned Minnie. "You've got to get up early, you +know."</p> + +<p>The morning was no better. Hanson was just going out the door as Carrie +came from her room. Minnie tried to talk with her during breakfast, but +there was not much of interest which they could mutually discuss. As on +the previous morning, Carrie walked down town, for she began to realise +now that her four-fifty would not even allow her car fare after she paid +her board. This seemed a miserable arrangement. But the morning light +swept away the first misgivings of the day, as morning light is ever +wont to do.</p> + +<p>At the shoe factory she put in a long day, scarcely so wearisome as the +preceding, but considerably less novel. The head foreman, on his round, +stopped by her machine.</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brown hired me," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he did, eh!" and then, "See that you keep things going."</p> + +<p>The machine girls impressed her even less favourably. They seemed +satisfied with their lot, and were in a sense "common." Carrie had more +imagination than they. She was not used to slang. Her instinct in the +matter<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> of dress was naturally better. She disliked to listen to the +girl next to her, who was rather hardened by experience.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to quit this," she heard her remark to her neighbour. "What +with the stipend and being up late, it's too much for me health."</p> + +<p>They were free with the fellows, young and old, about the place, and +exchanged banter in rude phrases, which at first shocked her. She saw +that she was taken to be of the same sort and addressed accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Hello," remarked one of the stout-wristed sole-workers to her at noon. +"You're a daisy." He really expected to hear the common "Aw! go chase +yourself!" in return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie's silently +moving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning.</p> + +<p>That night at the flat she was even more lonely—the dull situation was +becoming harder to endure. She could see that the Hansons seldom or +never had any company. Standing at the street door looking out, she +ventured to walk out a little way. Her easy gait and idle manner +attracted attention of an offensive but common sort. She was slightly +taken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who in +passing looked at her, reduced his pace, turned back, and said:</p> + +<p>"Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening?"</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him in amazement, and then summoned sufficient thought +to reply: "Why, I don't know you," backing away as she did so.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that don't matter," said the other affably.</p> + +<p>She bandied no more words with him, but hurried away, reaching her own +door quite out of breath. There was something in the man's look which +frightened her.</p> + +<p>During the remainder of the week it was very much the same. One or two +nights she found herself too tired to walk home, and expended car fare. +She was not very<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> strong, and sitting all day affected her back. She +went to bed one night before Hanson.</p> + +<p>Transplantation is not always successful in the matter of flowers or +maidens. It requires sometimes a richer soil, a better atmosphere to +continue even a natural growth. It would have been better if her +acclimatization had been more gradual—less rigid. She would have done +better if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had seen more +of the city which she constantly troubled to know about.</p> + +<p>On the first morning it rained she found that she had no umbrella. +Minnie loaned her one of hers, which was worn and faded. There was the +kind of vanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of the +great department stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and a +quarter of her small store to pay for it.</p> + +<p>"What did you do that for, Carrie?" asked Minnie, when she saw it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I need one," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You foolish girl."</p> + +<p>Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She was not going to be +a common shop-girl, she thought; they need not think it, either.</p> + +<p>On the first Saturday night Carrie paid her board, four dollars. Minnie +had a quaver of conscience as she took it, but did not know how to +explain to Hanson if she took less. That worthy gave up just four +dollars less toward the household expenses with a smile of satisfaction. +He contemplated increasing his Building and Loan payments. As for +Carrie, she studied over the problem of finding clothes and amusement on +fifty cents a week. She brooded over this until she was in a state of +mental rebellion.</p> + +<p>"I'm going up the street for a walk," she said after supper.<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a></p> + +<p>"Not alone, are you?" asked Hanson.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>"I want to see <i>something</i>," said Carrie, and by the tone she put into +the last word they realised for the first time she was not pleased with +them.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with her?" asked Hanson, when she went into the front +room to get her hat.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>"Well, she ought to know better than to want to go out alone."</p> + +<p>Carrie did not go very far, after all. She returned and stood in the +door. The next day they went out to Garfield Park, but it did not please +her. She did not look well enough. In the shop next day she heard the +highly coloured reports which girls give of their trivial amusements. +They had been happy. On several days it rained and she used up car fare. +One night she got thoroughly soaked, going to catch the car at Van Buren +Street. All that evening she sat alone in the front room looking out +upon the street, where the lights were reflected on the wet pavements, +thinking. She had imagination enough to be moody.</p> + +<p>On Saturday she paid another four dollars and pocketed her fifty cents +in despair. The speaking acquaintanceship which she formed with some of +the girls at the shop discovered to her the fact that they had more of +their earnings to use for themselves than she did. They had young men of +the kind whom she, since her experience with Drouet, felt above, who +took them about. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed young +fellows of the shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She saw +only their workday side.</p> + +<p>There came a day when the first premonitory blast of winter swept over +the city. It scudded the fleecy clouds<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> in the heavens, trailed long, +thin streamers of smoke from the tall stacks, and raced about the +streets and corners in sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt the +problem of winter clothes. What was she to do? She had no winter jacket, +no hat, no shoes. It was difficult to speak to Minnie about this, but at +last she summoned the courage.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes," she said one evening +when they were together. "I need a hat."</p> + +<p>Minnie looked serious.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you keep part of your money and buy yourself one?" she +suggested, worried over the situation which the withholding of Carrie's +money would create.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to for a week or so, if you don't mind," ventured Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Could you pay two dollars?" asked Minnie.</p> + +<p>Carrie readily acquiesced, glad to escape the trying situation, and +liberal now that she saw a way out. She was elated and began figuring at +once. She needed a hat first of all. How Minnie explained to Hanson she +never knew. He said nothing at all, but there were thoughts in the air +which left disagreeable impressions.</p> + +<p>The new arrangement might have worked if sickness had not intervened. It +blew up cold after a rain one afternoon when Carrie was still without a +jacket. She came out of the warm shop at six and shivered as the wind +struck her. In the morning she was sneezing, and going down town made it +worse. That day her bones ached and she felt light-headed. Towards +evening she felt very ill, and when she reached home was not hungry. +Minnie noticed her drooping actions and asked her about herself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie. "I feel real bad."</p> + +<p>She hung about the stove, suffered a chattering chill, and went to bed +sick. The next morning she was thoroughly feverish.<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a></p> + +<p>Minnie was truly distressed at this, but maintained a kindly demeanour. +Hanson said perhaps she had better go back home for a while. When she +got up after three days, it was taken for granted that her position was +lost. The winter was near at hand, she had no clothes, and now she was +out of work.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie; "I'll go down Monday and see if I can't get +something."</p> + +<p>If anything, her efforts were more poorly rewarded on this trial than +the last. Her clothes were nothing suitable for fall wearing. Her last +money she had spent for a hat. For three days she wandered about, +utterly dispirited. The attitude of the flat was fast becoming +unbearable. She hated to think of going back there each evening. Hanson +was so cold. She knew it could not last much longer. Shortly she would +have to give up and go home.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day she was down town all day, having borrowed ten cents +for lunch from Minnie. She had applied in the cheapest kind of places +without success. She even answered for a waitress in a small restaurant +where she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experienced girl. +She moved through the thick throng of strangers, utterly subdued in +spirit. Suddenly a hand pulled her arm and turned her about.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" said a voice. In the first glance she beheld Drouet. He +was not only rosy-cheeked, but radiant. He was the essence of sunshine +and good-humour. "Why, how are you, Carrie?" he said. "You're a daisy. +Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled under his irresistible flood of geniality.</p> + +<p>"I've been out home," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I saw you across the street there. I thought it was +you. I was just coming out to your place. How are you, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," said Carrie, smiling.<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p> + +<p>Drouet looked her over and saw something different.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I want to talk to you. You're not going anywhere in +particular, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not just now," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Let's go up here and have something to eat. George! but I'm glad to see +you again."</p> + +<p>She felt so relieved in his radiant presence, so much looked after and +cared for, that she assented gladly, though with the slightest air of +holding back.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, as he took her arm—and there was an exuberance of +good-fellowship in the word which fairly warmed the cockles of her +heart.</p> + +<p>They went through Monroe Street to the old Windsor dining-room, which +was then a large, comfortable place, with an excellent cuisine and +substantial service. Drouet selected a table close by the window, where +the busy rout of the street could be seen. He loved the changing +panorama of the street—to see and be seen as he dined.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, getting Carrie and himself comfortably settled, "what +will you have?"</p> + +<p>Carrie looked over the large bill of fare which the waiter handed her +without really considering it. She was very hungry, and the things she +saw there awakened her desires, but the high prices held her attention. +"Half broiled spring chicken—seventy-five. Sirloin steak with +mushrooms—one twenty-five." She had dimly heard of these things, but it +seemed strange to be called to order from the list.</p> + +<p>"I'll fix this," exclaimed Drouet. "Sst! waiter."</p> + +<p>That officer of the board, a full-chested, round-faced negro, +approached, and inclined his ear.</p> + +<p>"Sirloin with mushrooms," said Drouet. "Stuffed tomatoes."</p> + +<p>"Yassah," assented the negro, nodding his head.</p> + +<p>"Hashed brown potatoes."<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a></p> + +<p>"Yassah."</p> + +<p>"Asparagus."</p> + +<p>"Yassah."</p> + +<p>"And a pot of coffee."</p> + +<p>Drouet turned to Carrie. "I haven't had a thing since breakfast. Just +got in from Rock Island. I was going off to dine when I saw you."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled and smiled.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing?" he went on. "Tell me all about yourself. How +is your sister?"</p> + +<p>"She's well," returned Carrie, answering the last query.</p> + +<p>He looked at her hard.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, "you haven't been sick, have you?"</p> + +<p>Carrie nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that's a blooming shame, isn't it? You don't look very well. +I thought you looked a little pale. What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Working," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! At what?"</p> + +<p>She told him.</p> + +<p>"Rhodes, Morgenthau and Scott—why, I know that house. Over here on +Fifth Avenue, isn't it? They're a close-fisted concern. What made you go +there?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get anything else," said Carrie frankly.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's an outrage," said Drouet. "You oughtn't to be working for +those people. Have the factory right back of the store, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"That isn't a good house," said Drouet. "You don't want to work at +anything like that, anyhow."</p> + +<p>He chattered on at a great rate, asking questions, explaining things +about himself, telling her what a good restaurant it was, until the +waiter returned with an immense tray, bearing the hot savoury dishes +which had been ordered. Drouet fairly shone in the matter of serving.<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> +He appeared to great advantage behind the white napery and silver +platters of the table and displaying his arms with a knife and fork. As +he cut the meat his rings almost spoke. His new suit creaked as he +stretched to reach the plates, break the bread, and pour the coffee. He +helped Carrie to a rousing plateful and contributed the warmth of his +spirit to her body until she was a new girl. He was a splendid fellow in +the true popular understanding of the term, and captivated Carrie +completely.</p> + +<p>That little soldier of fortune took her good turn in an easy way. She +felt a little out of place, but the great room soothed her and the view +of the well-dressed throng outside seemed a splendid thing. Ah, what was +it not to have money! What a thing it was to be able to come in here and +dine! Drouet must be fortunate. He rode on trains, dressed in such nice +clothes, was so strong, and ate in these fine places. He seemed quite a +figure of a man, and she wondered at his friendship and regard for her.</p> + +<p>"So you lost your place because you got sick, eh?" he said. "What are +you going to do now?"</p> + +<p>"Look around," she said, a thought of the need that hung outside this +fine restaurant like a hungry dog at her heels passing into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Drouet, "that won't do. How long have you been looking?"</p> + +<p>"Four days," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Think of that!" he said, addressing some problematical individual. "You +oughtn't to be doing anything like that. These girls," and he waved an +inclusion of all shop and factory girls, "don't get anything. Why, you +can't live on it, can you?"</p> + +<p>He was a brotherly sort of creature in his demeanour. When he had +scouted the idea of that kind of toil, he took another tack. Carrie was +really very pretty. Even then,<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> in her commonplace garb, her figure was +evidently not bad, and her eyes were large and gentle. Drouet looked at +her and his thoughts reached home. She felt his admiration. It was +powerfully backed by his liberality and good-humour. She felt that she +liked him—that she could continue to like him ever so much. There was +something even richer than that, running as a hidden strain, in her +mind. Every little while her eyes would meet his, and by that means the +interchanging current of feeling would be fully connected.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you stay down town and go to the theatre with me?" he said, +hitching his chair closer. The table was not very wide.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," she said.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she answered, a little drearily.</p> + +<p>"You don't like out there where you are, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do if you don't get work?"</p> + +<p>"Go back home, I guess."</p> + +<p>There was the least quaver in her voice as she said this. Somehow, the +influence he was exerting was powerful. They came to an understanding of +each other without words—he of her situation, she of the fact that he +realised it.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "you can't make it!" genuine sympathy filling his mind +for the time. "Let me help you. You take some of my money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she said, leaning back.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" he said.</p> + +<p>She sat meditating, merely shaking her head.</p> + +<p>He looked at her quite tenderly for his kind. There were some loose +bills in his vest pocket—greenbacks. They were soft and noiseless, and +he got his fingers about them and crumpled them up in his hand.<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a></p> + +<p>"Come on," he said, "I'll see you through all right. Get yourself some +clothes."</p> + +<p>It was the first reference he had made to that subject, and now she +realised how bad off she was. In his crude way he had struck the +key-note. Her lips trembled a little.</p> + +<p>She had her hand out on the table before her. They were quite alone in +their corner, and he put his larger, warmer hand over it.</p> + +<p>"Aw, come, Carrie," he said, "what can you do alone? Let me help you."</p> + +<p>He pressed her hand gently and she tried to withdraw it. At this he held +it fast, and she no longer protested. Then he slipped the greenbacks he +had into her palm, and when she began to protest, he whispered:</p> + +<p>"I'll loan it to you—that's all right. I'll loan it to you."</p> + +<p>He made her take it. She felt bound to him by a strange tie of affection +now. They went out, and he walked with her far out south toward Polk +Street, talking.</p> + +<p>"You don't want to live with those people?" he said in one place, +abstractedly. Carrie heard it, but it made only a slight impression.</p> + +<p>"Come down and meet me to-morrow," he said, "and we'll go to the +matinée. Will you?"</p> + +<p>Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced.</p> + +<p>"You're not doing anything. Get yourself a nice pair of shoes and a +jacket."</p> + +<p>She scarcely gave a thought to the complication which would trouble her +when he was gone. In his presence, she was of his own hopeful, +easy-way-out mood.</p> + +<p>"Don't you bother about those people out there," he said at parting. +"I'll help you."</p> + +<p>Carrie left him, feeling as though a great arm had slipped out before +her to draw off trouble. The money she had accepted was two soft, green, +handsome ten-dollar bills.<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +<small>THE LURE OF THE MATERIAL: BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR ITSELF</small></h2> + +<p>The true meaning of money yet remains to be popularly explained and +comprehended. When each individual realises for himself that this thing +primarily stands for and should only be accepted as a moral due—that it +should be paid out as honestly stored energy, and not as a usurped +privilege—many of our social, religious, and political troubles will +have permanently passed. As for Carrie, her understanding of the moral +significance of money was the popular understanding, nothing more. The +old definition: "Money: something everybody else has and I must get," +would have expressed her understanding of it thoroughly. Some of it she +now held in her hand—two soft, green ten-dollar bills—and she felt +that she was immensely better off for the having of them. It was +something that was power in itself. One of her order of mind would have +been content to be cast away upon a desert island with a bundle of +money, and only the long strain of starvation would have taught her that +in some cases it could have no value. Even then she would have had no +conception of the relative value of the thing; her one thought would, +undoubtedly, have concerned the pity of having so much power and the +inability to use it.</p> + +<p>The poor girl thrilled as she walked away from Drouet. She felt ashamed +in part because she had been weak enough to take it, but her need was so +dire, she was still<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> glad. Now she would have a nice new jacket! Now she +would buy a nice pair of pretty button shoes. She would get stockings, +too, and a skirt, and, and—until already, as in the matter of her +prospective salary, she had got beyond, in her desires, twice the +purchasing power of her bills.</p> + +<p>She conceived a true estimate of Drouet. To her, and indeed to all the +world, he was a nice, good-hearted man. There was nothing evil in the +fellow. He gave her the money out of a good heart—out of a realisation +of her want. He would not have given the same amount to a poor young +man, but we must not forget that a poor young man could not, in the +nature of things, have appealed to him like a poor young girl. +Femininity affected his feelings. He was the creature of an inborn +desire. Yet no beggar could have caught his eye and said, "My God, +mister, I'm starving," but he would gladly have handed out what was +considered the proper portion to give beggars and thought no more about +it. There would have been no speculation, no philosophising. He had no +mental process in him worthy the dignity of either of those terms. In +his good clothes and fine health, he was a merry, unthinking moth of the +lamp. Deprived of his position, and struck by a few of the involved and +baffling forces which sometimes play upon man, he would have been as +helpless as Carrie—as helpless, as non-understanding, as pitiable, if +you will, as she.</p> + +<p>Now, in regard to his pursuit of women, he meant them no harm, because +he did not conceive of the relation which he hoped to hold with them as +being harmful. He loved to make advances to women, to have them succumb +to his charms, not because he was a cold-blooded, dark, scheming +villain, but because his inborn desire urged him to that as a chief +delight. He was vain, he was boastful, he was as deluded by fine clothes +as any silly-headed girl.<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> A truly deep-dyed villain could have +hornswaggled him as readily as he could have flattered a pretty +shop-girl. His fine success as a salesman lay in his geniality and the +thoroughly reputable standing of his house. He bobbed about among men, a +veritable bundle of enthusiasm—no power worthy the name of intellect, +no thoughts worthy the adjective noble, no feelings long continued in +one strain. A Madame Sappho would have called him a pig; a Shakespeare +would have said "my merry child;" old, drinking Caryoe thought him a +clever, successful business man. In short, he was as good as his +intellect conceived.</p> + +<p>The best proof that there was something open and commendable about the +man was the fact that Carrie took the money. No deep, sinister soul with +ulterior motives could have given her fifteen cents under the guise of +friendship. The unintellectual are not so helpless. Nature has taught +the beasts of the field to fly when some unheralded danger threatens. +She has put into the small, unwise head of the chipmunk the untutored +fear of poisons. "He keepeth His creatures whole," was not written of +beasts alone. Carrie was unwise, and, therefore, like the sheep in its +unwisdom, strong in feeling. The instinct of self-protection, strong in +all such natures, was roused but feebly, if at all, by the overtures of +Drouet.</p> + +<p>When Carrie had gone, he felicitated himself upon her good opinion. By +George, it was a shame young girls had to be knocked around like that. +Cold weather coming on and no clothes. Tough. He would go around to +Fitzgerald and Moy's and get a cigar. It made him feel light of foot as +he thought about her.</p> + +<p>Carrie reached home in high good spirits, which she could scarcely +conceal. The possession of the money involved a number of points which +perplexed her seriously. How should she buy any clothes when Minnie knew +that she had no money? She had no sooner entered the flat<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> than this +point was settled for her. It could not be done. She could think of no +way of explaining.</p> + +<p>"How did you come out?" asked Minnie, referring to the day.</p> + +<p>Carrie had none of the small deception which could feel one thing and +say something directly opposed. She would prevaricate, but it would be +in the line of her feelings at least. So instead of complaining when she +felt so good, she said:</p> + +<p>"I have the promise of something."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"At the Boston Store."</p> + +<p>"Is it sure promised?" questioned Minnie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm to find out to-morrow," returned Carrie, disliking to draw +out a lie any longer than was necessary.</p> + +<p>Minnie felt the atmosphere of good feeling which Carrie brought with +her. She felt now was the time to express to Carrie the state of +Hanson's feeling about her entire Chicago venture.</p> + +<p>"If you shouldn't get it—" she paused, troubled for an easy way.</p> + +<p>"If I don't get something pretty soon, I think I'll go home."</p> + +<p>Minnie saw her chance.</p> + +<p>"Sven thinks it might be best for the winter, anyhow."</p> + +<p>The situation flashed on Carrie at once. They were unwilling to keep her +any longer, out of work. She did not blame Minnie, she did not blame +Hanson very much. Now, as she sat there digesting the remark, she was +glad she had Drouet's money.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said after a few moments, "I thought of doing that."</p> + +<p>She did not explain that the thought, however, had aroused all the +antagonism of her nature. Columbia City, what was there for her? She +knew its dull, little<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a> round by heart. Here was the great, mysterious +city which was still a magnet for her. What she had seen only suggested +its possibilities. Now to turn back on it and live the little old life +out there—she almost exclaimed against the thought.</p> + +<p>She had reached home early and went in the front room to think. What +could she do? She could not buy new shoes and wear them here. She would +need to save part of the twenty to pay her fare home. She did not want +to borrow of Minnie for that. And yet, how could she explain where she +even got that money? If she could only get enough to let her out easy.</p> + +<p>She went over the tangle again and again. Here, in the morning, Drouet +would expect to see her in a new jacket, and that couldn't be. The +Hansons expected her to go home, and she wanted to get away, and yet she +did not want to go home. In the light of the way they would look on her +getting money without work, the taking of it now seemed dreadful. She +began to be ashamed. The whole situation depressed her. It was all so +clear when she was with Drouet. Now it was all so tangled, so +hopeless—much worse than it was before, because she had the semblance +of aid in her hand which she could not use.</p> + +<p>Her spirits sank so that at supper Minnie felt that she must have had +another hard day. Carrie finally decided that she would give the money +back. It was wrong to take it. She would go down in the morning and hunt +for work. At noon she would meet Drouet as agreed and tell him. At this +decision her heart sank, until she was the old Carrie of distress.</p> + +<p>Curiously, she could not hold the money in her hand without feeling some +relief. Even after all her depressing conclusions, she could sweep away +all thought about the matter and then the twenty dollars seemed a +wonderful and delightful thing. Ah, money, money, money! What<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> a thing +it was to have. How plenty of it would clear away all these troubles.</p> + +<p>In the morning she got up and started out a little early. Her decision +to hunt for work was moderately strong, but the money in her pocket, +after all her troubling over it, made the work question the least shade +less terrible. She walked into the wholesale district, but as the +thought of applying came with each passing concern, her heart shrank. +What a coward she was, she thought to herself. Yet she had applied so +often. It would be the same old story. She walked on and on, and finally +did go into one place, with the old result. She came out feeling that +luck was against her. It was no use.</p> + +<p>Without much thinking, she reached Dearborn Street. Here was the great +Fair store with its multitude of delivery wagons about, its long window +display, its crowd of shoppers. It readily changed her thoughts, she who +was so weary of them. It was here that she had intended to come and get +her new things. Now for relief from distress; she thought she would go +in and see. She would look at the jackets.</p> + +<p>There is nothing in this world more delightful than that middle state in +which we mentally balance at times, possessed of the means, lured by +desire, and yet deterred by conscience or want of decision. When Carrie +began wandering around the store amid the fine displays she was in this +mood. Her original experience in this same place had given her a high +opinion of its merits. Now she paused at each individual bit of finery, +where before she had hurried on. Her woman's heart was warm with desire +for them. How would she look in this, how charming that would make her! +She came upon the corset counter and paused in rich reverie as she noted +the dainty concoctions of colour and lace there displayed. If she would +only make up her mind, she could have one of<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> those now. She lingered in +the jewelry department. She saw the earrings, the bracelets, the pins, +the chains. What would she not have given if she could have had them +all! She would look fine too, if only she had some of these things.</p> + +<p>The jackets were the greatest attraction. When she entered the store, +she already had her heart fixed upon the peculiar little tan jacket with +large mother-of-pearl buttons which was all the rage that fall. Still +she delighted to convince herself that there was nothing she would like +better. She went about among the glass cases and racks where these +things were displayed, and satisfied herself that the one she thought of +was the proper one. All the time she wavered in mind, now persuading +herself that she could buy it right away if she chose, now recalling to +herself the actual condition. At last the noon hour was dangerously +near, and she had done nothing. She must go now and return the money.</p> + +<p>Drouet was on the corner when she came up.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said, "where is the jacket and"—looking down—"the shoes?"</p> + +<p>Carrie had thought to lead up to her decision in some intelligent way, +but this swept the whole fore-schemed situation by the board.</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you that—that I can't take the money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it, is it?" he returned. "Well, you come on with me. Let's +go over here to Partridge's."</p> + +<p>Carrie walked with him. Behold, the whole fabric of doubt and +impossibility had slipped from her mind. She could not get at the points +that were so serious, the things she was going to make plain to him.</p> + +<p>"Have you had lunch yet? Of course you haven't. Let's go in here," and +Drouet turned into one of the very nicely furnished restaurants off +State Street, in Monroe.</p> + +<p>"I mustn't take the money," said Carrie, after they<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> were settled in a +cosey corner, and Drouet had ordered the lunch. "I can't wear those +things out there. They—they wouldn't know where I got them."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to do," he smiled, "go without them?"</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go home," she said, wearily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come," he said, "you've been thinking it over too long. I'll tell +you what you do. You say you can't wear them out there. Why don't you +rent a furnished room and leave them in that for a week?"</p> + +<p>Carrie shook her head. Like all women, she was there to object and be +convinced. It was for him to brush the doubts away and clear the path if +he could.</p> + +<p>"Why are you going home?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't get anything here."</p> + +<p>"They won't keep you?" he remarked, intuitively.</p> + +<p>"They can't," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what you do," he said. "You come with me. I'll take care +of you."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard this passively. The peculiar state which she was in made it +sound like the welcome breath of an open door. Drouet seemed of her own +spirit and pleasing. He was clean, handsome, well-dressed, and +sympathetic. His voice was the voice of a friend.</p> + +<p>"What can you do back at Columbia City?" he went on, rousing by the +words in Carrie's mind a picture of the dull world she had left. "There +isn't anything down there. Chicago's the place. You can get a nice room +here and some clothes, and then you can do something."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked out through the window into the busy street. There it was, +the admirable, great city, so fine when you are not poor. An elegant +coach, with a prancing pair of bays, passed by, carrying in its +upholstered depths a young lady.</p> + +<p>"What will you have if you go back?" asked Drouet.<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> There was no subtle +undercurrent to the question. He imagined that she would have nothing at +all of the things he thought worth while.</p> + +<p>Carrie sat still, looking out. She was wondering what she could do. They +would be expecting her to go home this week.</p> + +<p>Drouet turned to the subject of the clothes she was going to buy.</p> + +<p>"Why not get yourself a nice little jacket? You've got to have it. I'll +loan you the money. You needn't worry about taking it. You can get +yourself a nice room by yourself. I won't hurt you."</p> + +<p>Carrie saw the drift, but could not express her thoughts. She felt more +than ever the helplessness of her case.</p> + +<p>"If I could only get something to do," she said.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can," went on Drouet, "if you stay here. You can't if you go +away. They won't let you stay out there. Now, why not let me get you a +nice room? I won't bother you—you needn't be afraid. Then, when you get +fixed up, maybe you could get something."</p> + +<p>He looked at her pretty face and it vivified his mental resources. She +was a sweet little mortal to him—there was no doubt of that. She seemed +to have some power back of her actions. She was not like the common run +of store-girls. She wasn't silly.</p> + +<p>In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he—more taste. It was a +finer mental strain in her that made possible her depression and +loneliness. Her poor clothes were neat, and she held her head +unconsciously in a dainty way.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I could get something?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said, reaching over and filling her cup with tea. "I'll help +you."</p> + +<p>She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go over here to Partridge's and +you pick out what you want. Then<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> we'll look around for a room for you. +You can leave the things there. Then we'll go to the show to-night."</p> + +<p>Carrie shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Well, you can go out to the flat then, that's all right. You don't need +to stay in the room. Just take it and leave your things there."</p> + +<p>She hung in doubt about this until the dinner was over.</p> + +<p>"Let's go over and look at the jackets," he said.</p> + +<p>Together they went. In the store they found that shine and rustle of new +things which immediately laid hold of Carrie's heart. Under the +influence of a good dinner and Drouet's radiating presence, the scheme +proposed seemed feasible. She looked about and picked a jacket like the +one which she had admired at The Fair. When she got it in her hand it +seemed so much nicer. The saleswoman helped her on with it, and, by +accident, it fitted perfectly. Drouet's face lightened as he saw the +improvement. She looked quite smart.</p> + +<p>"That's the thing," he said.</p> + +<p>Carrie turned before the glass. She could not help feeling pleased as +she looked at herself. A warm glow crept into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"That's the thing," said Drouet. "Now pay for it."</p> + +<p>"It's nine dollars," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"That's all right—take it," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>She reached in her purse and took out one of the bills. The woman asked +if she would wear the coat and went off. In a few minutes she was back +and the purchase was closed.</p> + +<p>From Partridge's they went to a shoe store, where Carrie was fitted for +shoes. Drouet stood by, and when he saw how nice they looked, said, +"Wear them." Carrie shook her head, however. She was thinking of +returning to the flat. He bought her a purse for one thing,<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> and a pair +of gloves for another, and let her buy the stockings.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said, "you come down here and buy yourself a skirt."</p> + +<p>In all of Carrie's actions there was a touch of misgiving. The deeper +she sank into the entanglement, the more she imagined that the thing +hung upon the few remaining things she had not done. Since she had not +done these, there was a way out.</p> + +<p>Drouet knew a place in Wabash Avenue where there were rooms. He showed +Carrie the outside of these, and said: "Now, you're my sister." He +carried the arrangement off with an easy hand when it came to the +selection, looking around, criticising, opining. "Her trunk will be here +in a day or so," he observed to the landlady, who was very pleased.</p> + +<p>When they were alone, Drouet did not change in the least. He talked in +the same general way as if they were out in the street. Carrie left her +things.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Drouet, "why don't you move to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to leave them so."</p> + +<p>He took that up as they walked along the avenue. It was a warm +afternoon. The sun had come out and the wind had died down. As he talked +with Carrie, he secured an accurate detail of the atmosphere of the +flat.</p> + +<p>"Come out of it," he said, "they won't care. I'll help you get along."</p> + +<p>She listened until her misgivings vanished. He would show her about a +little and then help her get something. He really imagined that he +would. He would be out on the road and she could be working.</p> + +<p>"Now, I'll tell you what you do," he said, "you go out there and get +whatever you want and come away."<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a></p> + +<p>She thought a long time about this. Finally she agreed. He would come +out as far as Peoria Street and wait for her. She was to meet him at +half-past eight. At half-past five she reached home, and at six her +determination was hardened.</p> + +<p>"So you didn't get it?" said Minnie, referring to Carrie's story of the +Boston Store.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "No," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'd better try any more this fall," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>Carrie said nothing.</p> + +<p>When Hanson came home he wore the same inscrutable demeanour. He washed +in silence and went off to read his paper. At dinner Carrie felt a +little nervous. The strain of her own plans was considerable, and the +feeling that she was not welcome here was strong.</p> + +<p>"Didn't find anything, eh?" said Hanson.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>He turned to his eating again, the thought that it was a burden to have +her here dwelling in his mind. She would have to go home, that was all. +Once she was away, there would be no more coming back in the spring.</p> + +<p>Carrie was afraid of what she was going to do, but she was relieved to +know that this condition was ending. They would not care. Hanson +particularly would be glad when she went. He would not care what became +of her.</p> + +<p>After dinner she went into the bathroom, where they could not disturb +her, and wrote a little note.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Minnie," it read. "I'm not going home. I'm going to stay in +Chicago a little while and look for work. Don't worry. I'll be all +right."</p> + +<p>In the front room Hanson was reading his paper. As usual, she helped +Minnie clear away the dishes and <a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>straighten up. Then she said:</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll stand down at the door a little while." She could scarcely +prevent her voice from trembling.</p> + +<p>Minnie remembered Hanson's remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"Sven doesn't think it looks good to stand down there," she said.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he?" said Carrie. "I won't do it any more after this."</p> + +<p>She put on her hat and fidgeted around the table in the little bedroom, +wondering where to slip the note. Finally she put it under Minnie's +hair-brush.</p> + +<p>When she had closed the hall-door, she paused a moment and wondered what +they would think. Some thought of the queerness of her deed affected +her. She went slowly down the stairs. She looked back up the lighted +step, and then affected to stroll up the street. When she reached the +corner she quickened her pace.</p> + +<p>As she was hurrying away, Hanson came back to his wife.</p> + +<p>"Is Carrie down at the door again?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Minnie; "she said she wasn't going to do it any more."</p> + +<p>He went over to the baby where it was playing on the floor and began to +poke his finger at it.</p> + +<p>Drouet was on the corner waiting, in good spirits.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Carrie," he said, as a sprightly figure of a girl drew near him. +"Got here safe, did you? Well, we'll take a car."<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +<small>INTIMATIONS BY WINTER: AN AMBASSADOR SUMMONED</small></h2> + +<p>Among the forces which sweep and play throughout the universe, untutored +man is but a wisp in the wind. Our civilisation is still in a middle +stage, scarcely beast, in that it is no longer wholly guided by +instinct; scarcely human, in that it is not yet wholly guided by reason. +On the tiger no responsibility rests. We see him aligned by nature with +the forces of life—he is born into their keeping and without thought he +is protected. We see man far removed from the lairs of the jungles, his +innate instincts dulled by too near an approach to free-will, his +free-will not sufficiently developed to replace his instincts and afford +him perfect guidance. He is becoming too wise to hearken always to +instincts and desires; he is still too weak to always prevail against +them. As a beast, the forces of life aligned him with them; as a man, he +has not yet wholly learned to align himself with the forces. In this +intermediate stage he wavers—neither drawn in harmony with nature by +his instincts nor yet wisely putting himself into harmony by his own +free-will. He is even as a wisp in the wind, moved by every breath of +passion, acting now by his will and now by his instincts, erring with +one, only to retrieve by the other, falling by one, only to rise by the +other—a creature of incalculable variability. We have the consolation +of knowing that evolution is ever in action, that the ideal is a light +that cannot fail. He will not forever balance thus between good and +evil. When<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> this jangle of free-will and instinct shall have been +adjusted, when perfect understanding has given the former the power to +replace the latter entirely, man will no longer vary. The needle of +understanding will yet point steadfast and unwavering to the distant +pole of truth.</p> + +<p>In Carrie—as in how many of our worldlings do they not?—instinct and +reason, desire and understanding, were at war for the mastery. She +followed whither her craving led. She was as yet more drawn than she +drew.</p> + +<p>When Minnie found the note next morning, after a night of mingled wonder +and anxiety, which was not exactly touched by yearning, sorrow, or love, +she exclaimed: "Well, what do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"What?" said Hanson.</p> + +<p>"Sister Carrie has gone to live somewhere else."</p> + +<p>Hanson jumped out of bed with more celerity than he usually displayed +and looked at the note. The only indication of his thoughts came in the +form of a little clicking sound made by his tongue; the sound some +people make when they wish to urge on a horse.</p> + +<p>"Where do you suppose she's gone to?" said Minnie, thoroughly aroused.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," a touch of cynicism lighting his eye. "Now she has gone +and done it."</p> + +<p>Minnie moved her head in a puzzled way.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," she said, "she doesn't know what she has done."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Hanson, after a while, sticking his hands out before him, +"what can you do?"</p> + +<p>Minnie's womanly nature was higher than this. She figured the +possibilities in such cases.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said at last, "poor Sister Carrie!"</p> + +<p>At the time of this particular conversation, which occurred at 5 <small>A. M.</small>, +that little soldier of fortune was sleeping a rather troubled sleep in +her new room, alone.<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie's new state was remarkable in that she saw possibilities in it. +She was no sensualist, longing to drowse sleepily in the lap of luxury. +She turned about, troubled by her daring, glad of her release, wondering +whether she would get something to do, wondering what Drouet would do. +That worthy had his future fixed for him beyond a peradventure. He could +not help what he was going to do. He could not see clearly enough to +wish to do differently. He was drawn by his innate desire to act the old +pursuing part. He would need to delight himself with Carrie as surely as +he would need to eat his heavy breakfast. He might suffer the least +rudimentary twinge of conscience in whatever he did, and in just so far +he was evil and sinning. But whatever twinges of conscience he might +have would be rudimentary, you may be sure.</p> + +<p>The next day he called upon Carrie, and she saw him in her chamber. He +was the same jolly, enlivening soul.</p> + +<p>"Aw," he said, "what are you looking so blue about? Come on out to +breakfast. You want to get your other clothes to-day."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him with the hue of shifting thought in her large eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could get something to do," she said.</p> + +<p>"You'll get that all right," said Drouet. "What's the use worrying right +now? Get yourself fixed up. See the city. I won't hurt you."</p> + +<p>"I know you won't," she remarked, half truthfully.</p> + +<p>"Got on the new shoes, haven't you? Stick 'em out. George, they look +fine. Put on your jacket."</p> + +<p>Carrie obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Say, that fits like a T, don't it?" he remarked, feeling the set of it +at the waist and eyeing it from a few paces with real pleasure. "What +you need now is a new skirt. Let's go to breakfast."<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie put on her hat.</p> + +<p>"Where are the gloves?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Here," she said, taking them out of the bureau drawer.</p> + +<p>"Now, come on," he said.</p> + +<p>Thus the first hour of misgiving was swept away.</p> + +<p>It went this way on every occasion. Drouet did not leave her much alone. +She had time for some lone wanderings, but mostly he filled her hours +with sight-seeing. At Carson, Pirie's he bought her a nice skirt and +shirt waist. With his money she purchased the little necessaries of +toilet, until at last she looked quite another maiden. The mirror +convinced her of a few things which she had long believed. She was +pretty, yes, indeed! How nice her hat set, and weren't her eyes pretty. +She caught her little red lip with her teeth and felt her first thrill +of power. Drouet was so good.</p> + +<p>They went to see "The Mikado" one evening, an opera which was +hilariously popular at that time. Before going, they made off for the +Windsor dining-room, which was in Dearborn Street, a considerable +distance from Carrie's room. It was blowing up cold, and out of her +window Carrie could see the western sky, still pink with the fading +light, but steely blue at the top where it met the darkness. A long, +thin cloud of pink hung in midair, shaped like some island in a far-off +sea. Somehow the swaying of some dead branches of trees across the way +brought back the picture with which she was familiar when she looked +from their front window in December days at home.</p> + +<p>She paused and wrung her little hands.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," she said, her lip trembling.</p> + +<p>He sensed something, and slipped his arm over her shoulder, patting her +arm.<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p> + +<p>"Come on," he said gently, "you're all right."</p> + +<p>She turned to slip on her jacket.</p> + +<p>"Better wear that boa about your throat to-night."</p> + +<p>They walked north on Wabash to Adams Street and then west. The lights in +the stores were already shining out in gushes of golden hue. The arc +lights were sputtering overhead, and high up were the lighted windows of +the tall office buildings. The chill wind whipped in and out in gusty +breaths. Homeward bound, the six o'clock throng bumped and jostled. +Light overcoats were turned up about the ears, hats were pulled down. +Little shop-girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours, chattering, +laughing. It was a spectacle of warm-blooded humanity.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a pair of eyes met Carrie's in recognition. They were looking +out from a group of poorly dressed girls. Their clothes were faded and +loose-hanging, their jackets old, their general make-up shabby.</p> + +<p>Carrie recognised the glance and the girl. She was one of those who +worked at the machines in the shoe factory. The latter looked, not quite +sure, and then turned her head and looked. Carrie felt as if some great +tide had rolled between them. The old dress and the old machine came +back. She actually started. Drouet didn't notice until Carrie bumped +into a pedestrian.</p> + +<p>"You must be thinking," he said.</p> + +<p>They dined and went to the theatre. That spectacle pleased Carrie +immensely. The colour and grace of it caught her eye. She had vain +imaginings about place and power, about far-off lands and magnificent +people. When it was over, the clatter of coaches and the throng of fine +ladies made her stare.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said Drouet, holding her back in the showy foyer where +ladies and gentlemen were moving in a social crush, skirts rustling, +lace-covered heads nodding,<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> white teeth showing through parted lips. +"Let's see."</p> + +<p>"Sixty-seven," the coach-caller was saying, his voice lifted in a sort +of euphonious cry. "Sixty-seven."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it fine?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Great," said Drouet. He was as much affected by this show of finery and +gayety as she. He pressed her arm warmly. Once she looked up, her even +teeth glistening through her smiling lips, her eyes alight. As they were +moving out he whispered down to her, "You look lovely!" They were right +where the coach-caller was swinging open a coach-door and ushering in +two ladies.</p> + +<p>"You stick to me and we'll have a coach," laughed Drouet.</p> + +<p>Carrie scarcely heard, her head was so full of the swirl of life.</p> + +<p>They stopped in at a restaurant for a little after-theatre lunch. Just a +shade of a thought of the hour entered Carrie's head, but there was no +household law to govern her now. If any habits ever had time to fix upon +her, they would have operated here. Habits are peculiar things. They +will drive the really non-religious mind out of bed to say prayers that +are only a custom and not a devotion. The victim of habit, when he has +neglected the thing which it was his custom to do, feels a little +scratching in the brain, a little irritating something which comes of +being out of the rut, and imagines it to be the prick of conscience, the +still, small voice that is urging him ever to righteousness. If the +digression is unusual enough, the drag of habit will be heavy enough to +cause the unreasoning victim to return and perform the perfunctory +thing. "Now, bless me," says such a mind, "I have done my duty," when, +as a matter of fact, it has merely done its old, unbreakable trick once +again.<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie had no excellent home principles fixed upon her. If she had, she +would have been more consciously distressed. Now the lunch went off with +considerable warmth. Under the influence of the varied occurrences, the +fine, invisible passion which was emanating from Drouet, the food, the +still unusual luxury, she relaxed and heard with open ears. She was +again the victim of the city's hypnotic influence.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Drouet at last, "we had better be going."</p> + +<p>They had been dawdling over the dishes, and their eyes had frequently +met. Carrie could not help but feel the vibration of force which +followed, which, indeed, was his gaze. He had a way of touching her hand +in explanation, as if to impress a fact upon her. He touched it now as +he spoke of going.</p> + +<p>They arose and went out into the street. The down-town section was now +bare, save for a few whistling strollers, a few <i>owl</i> cars, a few open +resorts whose windows were still bright. Out Wabash Avenue they +strolled, Drouet still pouring forth his volume of small information. He +had Carrie's arm in his, and held it closely as he explained. Once in a +while, after some witticism, he would look down, and his eyes would meet +hers. At last they came to the steps, and Carrie stood up on the first +one, her head now coming even with his own. He took her hand and held it +genially. He looked steadily at her as she glanced about, warmly musing.</p> + +<p>At about that hour, Minnie was soundly sleeping, after a long evening of +troubled thought. She had her elbow in an awkward position under her +side. The muscles so held irritated a few nerves, and now a vague scene +floated in on the drowsy mind. She fancied she and Carrie were somewhere +beside an old coal-mine. She could see the tall runway and the heap of +earth and coal cast out. There was a deep pit, into which they were +looking; they<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> could see the curious wet stones far down where the wall +disappeared in vague shadows. An old basket, used for descending, was +hanging there, fastened by a worn rope.</p> + +<p>"Let's get in," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Minnie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, come on," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>She began to pull the basket over, and now, in spite of all protest, she +had swung over and was going down.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," she called, "Carrie, come back;" but Carrie was far down now +and the shadow had swallowed her completely.</p> + +<p>She moved her arm.</p> + +<p>Now the mystic scenery merged queerly and the place was by waters she +had never seen. They were upon some board or ground or something that +reached far out, and at the end of this was Carrie. They looked about, +and now the thing was sinking, and Minnie heard the low sip of the +encroaching water.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Carrie," she called, but Carrie was reaching farther out. She +seemed to recede, and now it was difficult to call to her.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," she called, "Carrie," but her own voice sounded far away, and +the strange waters were blurring everything. She came away suffering as +though she had lost something. She was more inexpressibly sad than she +had ever been in life.</p> + +<p>It was this way through many shifts of the tired brain, those curious +phantoms of the spirit slipping in, blurring strange scenes, one with +the other. The last one made her cry out, for Carrie was slipping away +somewhere over a rock, and her fingers had let loose and she had seen +her falling.</p> + +<p>"Minnie! What's the matter? Here, wake up," said Hanson, disturbed, and +shaking her by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Wha—what's the matter?" said Minnie, drowsily.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a></p> + +<p>"Wake up," he said, "and turn over. You're talking in your sleep."</p> + +<p>A week or so later Drouet strolled into Fitzgerald and Moy's, spruce in +dress and manner.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Charley," said Hurstwood, looking out from his office door.</p> + +<p>Drouet strolled over and looked in upon the manager at his desk.</p> + +<p>"When do you go out on the road again?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Pretty soon," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Haven't seen much of you this trip," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've been busy," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>They talked some few minutes on general topics.</p> + +<p>"Say," said Drouet, as if struck by a sudden idea, "I want you to come +out some evening."</p> + +<p>"Out where?" inquired Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Out to my house, of course," said Drouet, smiling.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood looked up quizzically, the least suggestion of a smile +hovering about his lips. He studied the face of Drouet in his wise way, +and then with the demeanour of a gentleman, said: "Certainly; glad to."</p> + +<p>"We'll have a nice game of euchre."</p> + +<p>"May I bring a nice little bottle of Sec?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Drouet. "I'll introduce you."<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +<small>CONVENTION'S OWN TINDER-BOX: THE EYE THAT IS GREEN</small></h2> + +<p>Hurstwood's residence on the North Side, near Lincoln Park, was a brick +building of a very popular type then, a three-story affair with the +first floor sunk a very little below the level of the street. It had a +large bay window bulging out from the second floor, and was graced in +front by a small grassy plot, twenty-five feet wide and ten feet deep. +There was also a small rear yard, walled in by the fences of the +neighbours and holding a stable where he kept his horse and trap.</p> + +<p>The ten rooms of the house were occupied by himself, his wife Julia, and +his son and daughter, George, Jr., and Jessica. There were besides these +a maid-servant, represented from time to time by girls of various +extraction, for Mrs. Hurstwood was not always easy to please.</p> + +<p>"George, I let Mary go yesterday," was not an unfrequent salutation at +the dinner table.</p> + +<p>"All right," was his only reply. He had long since wearied of discussing +the rancorous subject.</p> + +<p>A lovely home atmosphere is one of the flowers of the world, than which +there is nothing more tender, nothing more delicate, nothing more +calculated to make strong and just the natures cradled and nourished +within it. Those who have never experienced such a beneficent influence +will not understand wherefore the tear springs glistening to the eyelids +at some strange breath in lovely<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> music. The mystic chords which bind +and thrill the heart of the nation, they will never know.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood's residence could scarcely be said to be infused with this +home spirit. It lacked that toleration and regard without which the home +is nothing. There was fine furniture, arranged as soothingly as the +artistic perception of the occupants warranted. There were soft rugs, +rich, upholstered chairs and divans, a grand piano, a marble carving of +some unknown Venus by some unknown artist, and a number of small bronzes +gathered from heaven knows where, but generally sold by the large +furniture houses along with everything else which goes to make the +"perfectly appointed house."</p> + +<p>In the dining-room stood a sideboard laden with glistening decanters and +other utilities and ornaments in glass, the arrangement of which could +not be questioned. Here was something Hurstwood knew about. He had +studied the subject for years in his business. He took no little +satisfaction in telling each Mary, shortly after she arrived, something +of what the art of the thing required. He was not garrulous by any +means. On the contrary, there was a fine reserve in his manner toward +the entire domestic economy of his life which was all that is +comprehended by the popular term, gentlemanly. He would not argue, he +would not talk freely. In his manner was something of the dogmatist. +What he could not correct, he would ignore. There was a tendency in him +to walk away from the impossible thing.</p> + +<p>There was a time when he had been considerably enamoured of his Jessica, +especially when he was younger and more confined in his success. Now, +however, in her seventeenth year, Jessica had developed a certain amount +of reserve and independence which was not inviting to the richest form +of parental devotion. She was in the high school, and had notions of +life which were decidedly<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> those of a patrician. She liked nice clothes +and urged for them constantly. Thoughts of love and elegant individual +establishments were running in her head. She met girls at the high +school whose parents were truly rich and whose fathers had standing +locally as partners or owners of solid businesses. These girls gave +themselves the airs befitting the thriving domestic establishments from +whence they issued. They were the only ones of the school about whom +Jessica concerned herself.</p> + +<p>Young Hurstwood, Jr., was in his twentieth year, and was already +connected in a promising capacity with a large real estate firm. He +contributed nothing for the domestic expenses of the family, but was +thought to be saving his money to invest in real estate. He had some +ability, considerable vanity, and a love of pleasure that had not, as +yet, infringed upon his duties, whatever they were. He came in and went +out, pursuing his own plans and fancies, addressing a few words to his +mother occasionally, relating some little incident to his father, but +for the most part confining himself to those generalities with which +most conversation concerns itself. He was not laying bare his desires +for any one to see. He did not find any one in the house who +particularly cared to see.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood was the type of the woman who has ever endeavoured to +shine and has been more or less chagrined at the evidences of superior +capability in this direction elsewhere. Her knowledge of life extended +to that little conventional round of society of which she was not—but +longed to be—a member. She was not without realisation already that +this thing was impossible, so far as she was concerned. For her +daughter, she hoped better things. Through Jessica she might rise a +little. Through George, Jr.'s, possible success she might draw to +herself the privilege of pointing proudly. Even Hurstwood was doing well +enough, and she was anxious that<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> his small real estate adventures +should prosper. His property holdings, as yet, were rather small, but +his income was pleasing and his position with Fitzgerald and Moy was +fixed. Both those gentlemen were on pleasant and rather informal terms +with him.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere which such personalities would create must be apparent to +all. It worked out in a thousand little conversations, all of which were +of the same calibre.</p> + +<p>"I'm going up to Fox Lake to-morrow," announced George, Jr., at the +dinner table one Friday evening.</p> + +<p>"What's going on up there?" queried Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Eddie Fahrway's got a new steam launch, and he wants me to come up and +see how it works."</p> + +<p>"How much did it cost him?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>"Oh, over two thousand dollars. He says it's a dandy."</p> + +<p>"Old Fahrway must be making money," put in Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"He is, I guess. Jack told me they were shipping Vega-cura to Australia +now—said they sent a whole box to Cape Town last week."</p> + +<p>"Just think of that!" said Mrs. Hurstwood, "and only four years ago they +had that basement in Madison Street."</p> + +<p>"Jack told me they were going to put up a six-story building next spring +in Robey Street."</p> + +<p>"Just think of that!" said Jessica.</p> + +<p>On this particular occasion Hurstwood wished to leave early.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll be going down town," he remarked, rising.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to McVickar's Monday?" questioned Mrs. Hurstwood, without +rising.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said indifferently.</p> + +<p>They went on dining, while he went upstairs for his hat and coat. +Presently the door clicked.<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a></p> + +<p>"I guess papa's gone," said Jessica.</p> + +<p>The latter's school news was of a particular stripe.</p> + +<p>"They're going to give a performance in the Lyceum, upstairs," she +reported one day, "and I'm going to be in it."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" said her mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I'll have to have a new dress. Some of the nicest girls in the +school are going to be in it. Miss Palmer is going to take the part of +Portia."</p> + +<p>"Is she?" said Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"They've got that Martha Griswold in it again. She thinks she can act."</p> + +<p>"Her family doesn't amount to anything, does it?" said Mrs. Hurstwood +sympathetically. "They haven't anything, have they?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned Jessica, "they're poor as church mice."</p> + +<p>She distinguished very carefully between the young boys of the school, +many of whom were attracted by her beauty.</p> + +<p>"What do you think?" she remarked to her mother one evening; "that +Herbert Crane tried to make friends with me."</p> + +<p>"Who is he, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no one," said Jessica, pursing her pretty lips. "He's just a +student there. He hasn't anything."</p> + +<p>The other half of this picture came when young Blyford, son of Blyford, +the soap manufacturer, walked home with her. Mrs. Hurstwood was on the +third floor, sitting in a rocking-chair reading, and happened to look +out at the time.</p> + +<p>"Who was that with you, Jessica?" she inquired, as Jessica came +upstairs.</p> + +<p>"It's Mr. Blyford, mamma," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" said Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he wants me to stroll over into the park<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a> with him," explained +Jessica, a little flushed with running up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"All right, my dear," said Mrs. Hurstwood. "Don't be gone long."</p> + +<p>As the two went down the street, she glanced interestedly out of the +window. It was a most satisfactory spectacle indeed, most satisfactory.</p> + +<p>In this atmosphere Hurstwood had moved for a number of years, not +thinking deeply concerning it. His was not the order of nature to +trouble for something better, unless the better was immediately and +sharply contrasted. As it was, he received and gave, irritated sometimes +by the little displays of selfish indifference, pleased at times by some +show of finery which supposedly made for dignity and social distinction. +The life of the resort which he managed was his life. There he spent +most of his time. When he went home evenings the house looked nice. With +rare exceptions the meals were acceptable, being the kind that an +ordinary servant can arrange. In part, he was interested in the talk of +his son and daughter, who always looked well. The vanity of Mrs. +Hurstwood caused her to keep her person rather showily arrayed, but to +Hurstwood this was much better than plainness. There was no love lost +between them. There was no great feeling of dissatisfaction. Her opinion +on any subject was not startling. They did not talk enough together to +come to the argument of any one point. In the accepted and popular +phrase, she had her ideas and he had his. Once in a while he would meet +a woman whose youth, sprightliness, and humour would make his wife seem +rather deficient by contrast, but the temporary dissatisfaction which +such an encounter might arouse would be counterbalanced by his social +position and a certain matter of policy. He could not complicate his +home life, because it might affect his relations with his employers.<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> +They wanted no scandals. A man, to hold his position, must have a +dignified manner, a clean record, a respectable home anchorage. +Therefore he was circumspect in all he did, and whenever he appeared in +the public ways in the afternoon, or on Sunday, it was with his wife, +and sometimes his children. He would visit the local resorts, or those +near by in Wisconsin, and spend a few stiff, polished days strolling +about conventional places doing conventional things. He knew the need of +it.</p> + +<p>When some one of the many middle-class individuals whom he knew, who had +money, would get into trouble, he would shake his head. It didn't do to +talk about those things. If it came up for discussion among such friends +as with him passed for close, he would deprecate the folly of the thing. +"It was all right to do it—all men do those things—but why wasn't he +careful? A man can't be too careful." He lost sympathy for the man that +made a mistake and was found out.</p> + +<p>On this account he still devoted some time to showing his wife +about—time which would have been wearisome indeed if it had not been +for the people he would meet and the little enjoyments which did not +depend upon her presence or absence. He watched her with considerable +curiosity at times, for she was still attractive in a way and men looked +at her. She was affable, vain, subject to flattery, and this +combination, he knew quite well, might produce a tragedy in a woman of +her home position. Owing to his order of mind, his confidence in the sex +was not great. His wife never possessed the virtues which would win the +confidence and admiration of a man of his nature. As long as she loved +him vigorously he could see how confidence could be, but when that was +no longer the binding chain—well, something might happen.</p> + +<p>During the last year or two the expenses of the family seemed a large +thing. Jessica wanted fine clothes, and<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> Mrs. Hurstwood, not to be +outshone by her daughter, also frequently enlivened her apparel. +Hurstwood had said nothing in the past, but one day he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Jessica must have a new dress this month," said Mrs. Hurstwood one +morning.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was arraying himself in one of his perfection vests before the +glass at the time.</p> + +<p>"I thought she just bought one," he said.</p> + +<p>"That was just something for evening wear," returned his wife +complacently.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," returned Hurstwood, "that she's spending a good deal +for dresses of late."</p> + +<p>"Well, she's going out more," concluded his wife, but the tone of his +voice impressed her as containing something she had not heard there +before.</p> + +<p>He was not a man who travelled much, but when he did, he had been +accustomed to take her along. On one occasion recently a local +aldermanic junket had been arranged to visit Philadelphia—a junket that +was to last ten days. Hurstwood had been invited.</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows us down there," said one, a gentleman whose face was a +slight improvement over gross ignorance and sensuality. He always wore a +silk hat of most imposing proportions. "We can have a good time." His +left eye moved with just the semblance of a wink. "You want to come +along, George."</p> + +<p>The next day Hurstwood announced his intention to his wife.</p> + +<p>"I'm going away, Julia," he said, "for a few days."</p> + +<p>"Where?" she asked, looking up.</p> + +<p>"To Philadelphia, on business."</p> + +<p>She looked at him consciously, expecting something else.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to leave you behind this time."</p> + +<p>"All right," she replied, but he could see that she was<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> thinking that +it was a curious thing. Before he went she asked him a few more +questions, and that irritated him. He began to feel that she was a +disagreeable attachment.</p> + +<p>On this trip he enjoyed himself thoroughly, and when it was over he was +sorry to get back. He was not willingly a prevaricator, and hated +thoroughly to make explanations concerning it. The whole incident was +glossed over with general remarks, but Mrs. Hurstwood gave the subject +considerable thought. She drove out more, dressed better, and attended +theatres freely to make up for it.</p> + +<p>Such an atmosphere could hardly come under the category of home life. It +ran along by force of habit, by force of conventional opinion. With the +lapse of time it must necessarily become dryer and dryer—must +eventually be tinder, easily lighted and destroyed.<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +<small>THE COUNSEL OF WINTER: FORTUNE'S AMBASSADOR CALLS</small></h2> + +<p>In the light of the world's attitude toward woman and her duties, the +nature of Carrie's mental state deserves consideration. Actions such as +hers are measured by an arbitrary scale. Society possesses a +conventional standard whereby it judges all things. All men should be +good, all women virtuous. Wherefore, villain, hast thou failed?</p> + +<p>For all the liberal analysis of Spencer and our modern naturalistic +philosophers, we have but an infantile perception of morals. There is +more in the subject than mere conformity to a law of evolution. It is +yet deeper than conformity to things of earth alone. It is more involved +than we, as yet, perceive. Answer, first, why the heart thrills; explain +wherefore some plaintive note goes wandering about the world, undying; +make clear the rose's subtle alchemy evolving its ruddy lamp in light +and rain. In the essence of these facts lie the first principles of +morals.</p> + +<p>"Oh," thought Drouet, "how delicious is my conquest."</p> + +<p>"Ah," thought Carrie, with mournful misgivings, "what is it I have +lost?"</p> + +<p>Before this world-old proposition we stand, serious, interested, +confused; endeavouring to evolve the true theory of morals—the true +answer to what is right.</p> + +<p>In the view of a certain stratum of society, Carrie was<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> comfortably +established—in the eyes of the starveling, beaten by every wind and +gusty sheet of rain, she was safe in a halcyon harbour. Drouet had taken +three rooms, furnished, in Ogden Place, facing Union Park, on the West +Side. That was a little, green-carpeted breathing spot, than which, +to-day, there is nothing more beautiful in Chicago. It afforded a vista +pleasant to contemplate. The best room looked out upon the lawn of the +park, now sear and brown, where a little lake lay sheltered. Over the +bare limbs of the trees, which now swayed in the wintry wind, rose the +steeple of the Union Park Congregational Church, and far off the towers +of several others.</p> + +<p>The rooms were comfortably enough furnished. There was a good Brussels +carpet on the floor, rich in dull red and lemon shades, and representing +large jardinières filled with gorgeous, impossible flowers. There was a +large pier-glass mirror between the two windows. A large, soft, green, +plush-covered couch occupied one corner, and several rocking-chairs were +set about. Some pictures, several rugs, a few small pieces of +bric-à-brac, and the tale of contents is told.</p> + +<p>In the bedroom, off the front room, was Carrie's trunk, bought by +Drouet, and in the wardrobe built into the wall quite an array of +clothing—more than she had ever possessed before, and of very becoming +designs. There was a third room for possible use as a kitchen, where +Drouet had Carrie establish a little portable gas stove for the +preparation of small lunches, oysters, Welsh rarebits, and the like, of +which he was exceedingly fond; and, lastly, a bath. The whole place was +cosey, in that it was lighted by gas and heated by furnace registers, +possessing also a small grate, set with an asbestos back, a method of +cheerful warming which was then first coming into use. By her industry +and natural love of order, which now developed, the place maintained an +air pleasing in the extreme.<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> + +<p>Here, then, was Carrie, established in a pleasant fashion, free of +certain difficulties which most ominously confronted her, laden with +many new ones which were of a mental order, and altogether so turned +about in all of her earthly relationships that she might well have been +a new and different individual. She looked into her glass and saw a +prettier Carrie than she had seen before; she looked into her mind, a +mirror prepared of her own and the world's opinions, and saw a worse. +Between these two images she wavered, hesitating which to believe.</p> + +<p>"My, but you're a little beauty," Drouet was wont to exclaim to her.</p> + +<p>She would look at him with large, pleased eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know it, don't you?" he would continue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," she would reply, feeling delight in the fact that +one should think so, hesitating to believe, though she really did, that +she was vain enough to think so much of herself.</p> + +<p>Her conscience, however, was not a Drouet, interested to praise. There +she heard a different voice, with which she argued, pleaded, excused. It +was no just and sapient counsellor, in its last analysis. It was only an +average little conscience, a thing which represented the world, her past +environment, habit, convention, in a confused way. With it, the voice of +the people was truly the voice of God.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thou failure!" said the voice.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Look at those about," came the whispered answer. "Look at those who are +good. How would they scorn to do what you have done. Look at the good +girls; how will they draw away from such as you when they know you have +been weak. You had not tried before you failed."</p> + +<p>It was when Carrie was alone, looking out across the park, that she +would be listening to this. It would come<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> infrequently—when something +else did not interfere, when the pleasant side was not too apparent, +when Drouet was not there. It was somewhat clear in utterance at first, +but never wholly convincing. There was always an answer, always the +December days threatened. She was alone; she was desireful; she was +fearful of the whistling wind. The voice of want made answer for her.</p> + +<p>Once the bright days of summer pass by, a city takes on that sombre garb +of grey, wrapt in which it goes about its labours during the long +winter. Its endless buildings look grey, its sky and its streets assume +a sombre hue; the scattered, leafless trees and wind-blown dust and +paper but add to the general solemnity of colour. There seems to be +something in the chill breezes which scurry through the long, narrow +thoroughfares productive of rueful thoughts. Not poets alone, nor +artists, nor that superior order of mind which arrogates to itself all +refinement, feel this, but dogs and all men. These feel as much as the +poet, though they have not the same power of expression. The sparrow +upon the wire, the cat in the doorway, the dray horse tugging his weary +load, feel the long, keen breaths of winter. It strikes to the heart of +all life, animate and inanimate. If it were not for the artificial fires +of merriment, the rush of profit-seeking trade, and pleasure-selling +amusements; if the various merchants failed to make the customary +display within and without their establishments; if our streets were not +strung with signs of gorgeous hues and thronged with hurrying +purchasers, we would quickly discover how firmly the chill hand of +winter lays upon the heart; how dispiriting are the days during which +the sun withholds a portion of our allowance of light and warmth. We are +more dependent upon these things than is often thought. We are insects +produced by heat, and pass without it.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a></p> + +<p>In the drag of such a grey day the secret voice would reassert itself, +feebly and more feebly.</p> + +<p>Such mental conflict was not always uppermost. Carrie was not by any +means a gloomy soul. More, she had not the mind to get firm hold upon a +definite truth. When she could not find her way out of the labyrinth of +ill-logic which thought upon the subject created, she would turn away +entirely.</p> + +<p>Drouet, all the time, was conducting himself in a model way for one of +his sort. He took her about a great deal, spent money upon her, and when +he travelled took her with him. There were times when she would be alone +for two or three days, while he made the shorter circuits of his +business, but, as a rule, she saw a great deal of him.</p> + +<p>"Say, Carrie," he said one morning, shortly after they had so +established themselves, "I've invited my friend Hurstwood to come out +some day and spend the evening with us."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" asked Carrie, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's a nice man. He's manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"The finest resort in town. It's a way-up, swell place."</p> + +<p>Carrie puzzled a moment. She was wondering what Drouet had told him, +what her attitude would be.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Drouet, feeling her thought. "He doesn't know +anything. You're Mrs. Drouet now."</p> + +<p>There was something about this which struck Carrie as slightly +inconsiderate. She could see that Drouet did not have the keenest +sensibilities.</p> + +<p>"Why don't we get married?" she inquired, thinking of the voluble +promises he had made.</p> + +<p>"Well, we will," he said, "just as soon as I get this little deal of +mine closed up."</p> + +<p>He was referring to some property which he said he<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> had, and which +required so much attention, adjustment, and what not, that somehow or +other it interfered with his free moral, personal actions.</p> + +<p>"Just as soon as I get back from my Denver trip in January we'll do it."</p> + +<p>Carrie accepted this as basis for hope—it was a sort of salve to her +conscience, a pleasant way out. Under the circumstances, things would be +righted. Her actions would be justified.</p> + +<p>She really was not enamoured of Drouet. She was more clever than he. In +a dim way, she was beginning to see where he lacked. If it had not been +for this, if she had not been able to measure and judge him in a way, +she would have been worse off than she was. She would have adored him. +She would have been utterly wretched in her fear of not gaining his +affection, of losing his interest, of being swept away and left without +an anchorage. As it was, she wavered a little, slightly anxious, at +first, to gain him completely, but later feeling at ease in waiting. She +was not exactly sure what she thought of him—what she wanted to do.</p> + +<p>When Hurstwood called, she met a man who was more clever than Drouet in +a hundred ways. He paid that peculiar deference to women which every +member of the sex appreciates. He was not overawed, he was not +over-bold. His great charm was attentiveness. Schooled in winning those +birds of fine feather among his own sex, the merchants and professionals +who visited his resort, he could use even greater tact when endeavouring +to prove agreeable to some one who charmed him. In a pretty woman of any +refinement of feeling whatsoever he found his greatest incentive. He was +mild, placid, assured, giving the impression that he wished to be of +service only—to do something which would make the lady more pleased.<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a></p> + +<p>Drouet had ability in this line himself when the game was worth the +candle, but he was too much the egotist to reach the polish which +Hurstwood possessed. He was too buoyant, too full of ruddy life, too +assured. He succeeded with many who were not quite schooled in the art +of love. He failed dismally where the woman was slightly experienced and +possessed innate refinement. In the case of Carrie he found a woman who +was all of the latter, but none of the former. He was lucky in the fact +that opportunity tumbled into his lap, as it were. A few years later, +with a little more experience, the slightest tide of success, and he had +not been able to approach Carrie at all.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have a piano here, Drouet," said Hurstwood, smiling at +Carrie, on the evening in question, "so that your wife could play."</p> + +<p>Drouet had not thought of that.</p> + +<p>"So we ought," he observed readily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't play," ventured Carrie.</p> + +<p>"It isn't very difficult," returned Hurstwood. "You could do very well +in a few weeks."</p> + +<p>He was in the best form for entertaining this evening. His clothes were +particularly new and rich in appearance. The coat lapels stood out with +that medium stiffness which excellent cloth possesses. The vest was of a +rich Scotch plaid, set with a double row of round mother-of-pearl +buttons. His cravat was a shiny combination of silken threads, not loud, +not inconspicuous. What he wore did not strike the eye so forcibly as +that which Drouet had on, but Carrie could see the elegance of the +material. Hurstwood's shoes were of soft, black calf, polished only to a +dull shine. Drouet wore patent leather, but Carrie could not help +feeling that there was a distinction in favour of the soft leather, +where all else was so rich. She noticed these things almost +unconsciously.<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> They were things which would naturally flow from the +situation. She was used to Drouet's appearance.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we have a little game of euchre?" suggested Hurstwood, after a +light round of conversation. He was rather dexterous in avoiding +everything that would suggest that he knew anything of Carrie's past. He +kept away from personalities altogether, and confined himself to those +things which did not concern individuals at all. By his manner, he put +Carrie at her ease, and by his deference and pleasantries he amused her. +He pretended to be seriously interested in all she said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to play," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Charlie, you are neglecting a part of your duty," he observed to Drouet +most affably. "Between us, though," he went on, "we can show you."</p> + +<p>By his tact he made Drouet feel that he admired his choice. There was +something in his manner that showed that he was pleased to be there. +Drouet felt really closer to him than ever before. It gave him more +respect for Carrie. Her appearance came into a new light, under +Hurstwood's appreciation. The situation livened considerably.</p> + +<p>"Now, let me see," said Hurstwood, looking over Carrie's shoulder very +deferentially. "What have you?" He studied for a moment. "That's rather +good," he said.</p> + +<p>"You're lucky. Now, I'll show you how to trounce your husband. You take +my advice."</p> + +<p>"Here," said Drouet, "if you two are going to scheme together, I won't +stand a ghost of a show. Hurstwood's a regular sharp."</p> + +<p>"No, it's your wife. She brings me luck. Why shouldn't she win?"</p> + +<p>Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at Drouet. The former +took the air of a mere friend. He<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> was simply there to enjoy himself. +Anything that Carrie did was pleasing to him, nothing more.</p> + +<p>"There," he said, holding back one of his own good cards, and giving +Carrie a chance to take a trick. "I count that clever playing for a +beginner."</p> + +<p>The latter laughed gleefully as she saw the hand coming her way. It was +as if she were invincible when Hurstwood helped her.</p> + +<p>He did not look at her often. When he did, it was with a mild light in +his eye. Not a shade was there of anything save geniality and kindness. +He took back the shifty, clever gleam, and replaced it with one of +innocence. Carrie could not guess but that it was pleasure with him in +the immediate thing. She felt that he considered she was doing a great +deal.</p> + +<p>"It's unfair to let such playing go without earning something," he said +after a time, slipping his finger into the little coin pocket of his +coat. "Let's play for dimes."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Drouet, fishing for bills.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was quicker. His fingers were full of new ten-cent pieces. +"Here we are," he said, supplying each one with a little stack.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is gambling," smiled Carrie. "It's bad."</p> + +<p>"No," said Drouet, "only fun. If you never play for more than that, you +will go to Heaven."</p> + +<p>"Don't you moralise," said Hurstwood to Carrie gently, "until you see +what becomes of the money."</p> + +<p>Drouet smiled.</p> + +<p>"If your husband gets them, he'll tell you how bad it is."</p> + +<p>Drouet laughed loud.</p> + +<p>There was such an ingratiating tone about Hurstwood's voice, the +insinuation was so perceptible that even Carrie got the humour of it.</p> + +<p>"When do you leave?" said Hurstwood to Drouet.<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a></p> + +<p>"On Wednesday," he replied.</p> + +<p>"It's rather hard to have your husband running about like that, isn't +it?" said Hurstwood, addressing Carrie.</p> + +<p>"She's going along with me this time," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"You must both go with me to the theatre before you go."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Drouet. "Eh, Carrie?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like it ever so much," she replied.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood did his best to see that Carrie won the money. He rejoiced in +her success, kept counting her winnings, and finally gathered and put +them in her extended hand. They spread a little lunch, at which he +served the wine, and afterwards he used fine tact in going.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, addressing first Carrie and then Drouet with his eyes, +"you must be ready at 7.30. I'll come and get you."</p> + +<p>They went with him to the door and there was his cab waiting, its red +lamps gleaming cheerfully in the shadow.</p> + +<p>"Now," he observed to Drouet, with a tone of good-fellowship, "when you +leave your wife alone, you must let me show her around a little. It will +break up her loneliness."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Drouet, quite pleased at the attention shown.</p> + +<p>"You're so kind," observed Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Hurstwood, "I would want your husband to do as much +for me."</p> + +<p>He smiled and went lightly away. Carrie was thoroughly impressed. She +had never come in contact with such grace. As for Drouet, he was equally +pleased.</p> + +<p>"There's a nice man," he remarked to Carrie, as they returned to their +cosey chamber. "A good friend of mine, too."</p> + +<p>"He seems to be," said Carrie.<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +<small>THE PERSUASION OF FASHION: FEELING GUARDS O'ER ITS OWN</small></h2> + +<p>Carrie was an apt student of fortune's ways—of fortune's +superficialities. Seeing a thing, she would immediately set to inquiring +how she would look, properly related to it. Be it known that this is not +fine feeling, it is not wisdom. The greatest minds are not so afflicted; +and, on the contrary, the lowest order of mind is not so disturbed. Fine +clothes to her were a vast persuasion; they spoke tenderly and +Jesuitically for themselves. When she came within earshot of their +pleading, desire in her bent a willing ear. The voice of the so-called +inanimate! Who shall translate for us the language of the stones?</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the lace collar she secured from Partridge's, "I fit you +beautifully; don't give me up."</p> + +<p>"Ah, such little feet," said the leather of the soft new shoes; "how +effectively I cover them. What a pity they should ever want my aid."</p> + +<p>Once these things were in her hand, on her person, she might dream of +giving them up; the method by which they came might intrude itself so +forcibly that she would ache to be rid of the thought of it, but she +would not give them up. "Put on the old clothes—that torn pair of +shoes," was called to her by her conscience in vain. She could possibly +have conquered the fear of hunger and gone back; the thought of hard +work and a narrow round of suffering would, under the last pressure of +conscience,<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> have yielded, but spoil her appearance?—be old-clothed and +poor-appearing?—never!</p> + +<p>Drouet heightened her opinion on this and allied subjects in such a +manner as to weaken her power of resisting their influence. It is so +easy to do this when the thing opined is in the line of what we desire. +In his hearty way, he insisted upon her good looks. He looked at her +admiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under the circumstances, +she did not need to carry herself as pretty women do. She picked that +knowledge up fast enough for herself. Drouet had a habit, characteristic +of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed or pretty women on the +street and remarking upon them. He had just enough of the feminine love +of dress to be a good judge—not of intellect, but of clothes. He saw +how they set their little feet, how they carried their chins, with what +grace and sinuosity they swung their bodies. A dainty, self-conscious +swaying of the hips by a woman was to him as alluring as the glint of +rare wine to a toper. He would turn and follow the disappearing vision +with his eyes. He would thrill as a child with the unhindered passion +that was in him. He loved the thing that women love in themselves, +grace. At this, their own shrine, he knelt with them, an ardent devotee.</p> + +<p>"Did you see that woman who went by just now?" he said to Carrie on the +first day they took a walk together. "Fine stepper, wasn't she?"</p> + +<p>Carrie looked, and observed the grace commended.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is," she returned, cheerfully, a little suggestion of possible +defect in herself awakening in her mind. If that was so fine, she must +look at it more closely. Instinctively, she felt a desire to imitate it. +Surely she could do that too.</p> + +<p>When one of her mind sees many things emphasized and reemphasized and +admired, she gathers the logic<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> of it and applies accordingly. Drouet +was not shrewd enough to see that this was not tactful. He could not see +that it would be better to make her feel that she was competing with +herself, not others better than herself. He would not have done it with +an older, wiser woman, but in Carrie he saw only the novice. Less clever +than she, he was naturally unable to comprehend her sensibility. He went +on educating and wounding her, a thing rather foolish in one whose +admiration for his pupil and victim was apt to grow.</p> + +<p>Carrie took the instructions affably. She saw what Drouet liked; in a +vague way she saw where he was weak. It lessens a woman's opinion of a +man when she learns that his admiration is so pointedly and generously +distributed. She sees but one object of supreme compliment in this +world, and that is herself. If a man is to succeed with many women, he +must be all in all to each.</p> + +<p>In her own apartments Carrie saw things which were lessons in the same +school.</p> + +<p>In the same house with her lived an official of one of the theatres, Mr. +Frank A. Hale, manager of the Standard, and his wife, a pleasing-looking +brunette of thirty-five. They were people of a sort very common in +America to-day, who live respectably from hand to mouth. Hale received a +salary of forty-five dollars a week. His wife, quite attractive, +affected the feeling of youth, and objected to that sort of home life +which means the care of a house and the raising of a family. Like Drouet +and Carrie, they also occupied three rooms on the floor above.</p> + +<p>Not long after she arrived Mrs. Hale established social relations with +her, and together they went about. For a long time this was her only +companionship, and the gossip of the manager's wife formed the medium +through which she saw the world. Such trivialities, such praises of +wealth, such conventional expression of morals as sifted<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> through this +passive creature's mind, fell upon Carrie and for the while confused +her.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, her own feelings were a corrective influence. The +constant drag to something better was not to be denied. By those things +which address the heart was she steadily recalled. In the apartments +across the hall were a young girl and her mother. They were from +Evansville, Indiana, the wife and daughter of a railroad treasurer. The +daughter was here to study music, the mother to keep her company.</p> + +<p>Carrie did not make their acquaintance, but she saw the daughter coming +in and going out. A few times she had seen her at the piano in the +parlour, and not infrequently had heard her play. This young woman was +particularly dressy for her station, and wore a jewelled ring or two +which flashed upon her white fingers as she played.</p> + +<p>Now Carrie was affected by music. Her nervous composition responded to +certain strains, much as certain strings of a harp vibrate when a +corresponding key of a piano is struck. She was delicately moulded in +sentiment, and answered with vague ruminations to certain wistful +chords. They awoke longings for those things which she did not have. +They caused her to cling closer to things she possessed. One short song +the young lady played in a most soulful and tender mood. Carrie heard it +through the open door from the parlour below. It was at that hour +between afternoon and night when, for the idle, the wanderer, things are +apt to take on a wistful aspect. The mind wanders forth on far journeys +and returns with sheaves of withered and departed joys. Carrie sat at +her window looking out. Drouet had been away since ten in the morning. +She had amused herself with a walk, a book by Bertha M. Clay which +Drouet had left there, though she did not wholly enjoy the latter, and +by changing her dress for the evening. Now she sat looking<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> out across +the park as wistful and depressed as the nature which craves variety and +life can be under such circumstances. As she contemplated her new state, +the strain from the parlour below stole upward. With it her thoughts +became coloured and enmeshed. She reverted to the things which were best +and saddest within the small limit of her experience. She became for the +moment a repentant.</p> + +<p>While she was in this mood Drouet came in, bringing with him an entirely +different atmosphere. It was dusk and Carrie had neglected to light the +lamp. The fire in the grate, too, had burned low.</p> + +<p>"Where are you, Cad?" he said, using a pet name he had given her.</p> + +<p>"Here," she answered.</p> + +<p>There was something delicate and lonely in her voice, but he could not +hear it. He had not the poetry in him that would seek a woman out under +such circumstances and console her for the tragedy of life. Instead, he +struck a match and lighted the gas.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he exclaimed, "you've been crying."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were still wet with a few vague tears.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw," he said, "you don't want to do that."</p> + +<p>He took her hand, feeling in his good-natured egotism that it was +probably lack of his presence which had made her lonely.</p> + +<p>"Come on, now," he went on; "it's all right. Let's waltz a little to +that music."</p> + +<p>He could not have introduced a more incongruous proposition. It made +clear to Carrie that he could not sympathise with her. She could not +have framed thoughts which would have expressed his defect or made clear +the difference between them, but she felt it. It was his first great +mistake.</p> + +<p>What Drouet said about the girl's grace, as she tripped<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> out evenings +accompanied by her mother, caused Carrie to perceive the nature and +value of those little modish ways which women adopt when they would +presume to be something. She looked in the mirror and pursed up her +lips, accompanying it with a little toss of the head, as she had seen +the railroad treasurer's daughter do. She caught up her skirts with an +easy swing, for had not Drouet remarked that in her and several others, +and Carrie was naturally imitative. She began to get the hang of those +little things which the pretty woman who has vanity invariably adopts. +In short, her knowledge of grace doubled, and with it her appearance +changed. She became a girl of considerable taste.</p> + +<p>Drouet noticed this. He saw the new bow in her hair and the new way of +arranging her locks which she affected one morning.</p> + +<p>"You look fine that way, Cad," he said.</p> + +<p>"Do I?" she replied, sweetly. It made her try for other effects that +selfsame day.</p> + +<p>She used her feet less heavily, a thing that was brought about by her +attempting to imitate the treasurer's daughter's graceful carriage. How +much influence the presence of that young woman in the same house had +upon her it would be difficult to say. But, because of all these things, +when Hurstwood called he had found a young woman who was much more than +the Carrie to whom Drouet had first spoken. The primary defects of dress +and manner had passed. She was pretty, graceful, rich in the timidity +born of uncertainty, and with a something childlike in her large eyes +which captured the fancy of this starched and conventional poser among +men. It was the ancient attraction of the fresh for the stale. If there +was a touch of appreciation left in him for the bloom and +unsophistication which is the charm of youth, it rekindled now. He +looked into her pretty face and felt the subtle waves of<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> young life +radiating therefrom. In that large clear eye he could see nothing that +his <i>blasé</i> nature could understand as guile. The little vanity, if he +could have perceived it there, would have touched him as a pleasant +thing.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, as he rode away in his cab, "how Drouet came to win +her."</p> + +<p>He gave her credit for feelings superior to Drouet at the first glance.</p> + +<p>The cab plopped along between the far-receding lines of gas lamps on +either hand. He folded his gloved hands and saw only the lighted chamber +and Carrie's face. He was pondering over the delight of youthful beauty.</p> + +<p>"I'll have a bouquet for her," he thought. "Drouet won't mind."</p> + +<p>He never for a moment concealed the fact of her attraction for himself. +He troubled himself not at all about Drouet's priority. He was merely +floating those gossamer threads of thought which, like the spider's, he +hoped would lay hold somewhere. He did not know, he could not guess, +what the result would be.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, encountered one of his +well-dressed lady acquaintances in Chicago on his return from a short +trip to Omaha. He had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surprise +Carrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation and soon +modified his original intention.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to dinner," he said, little recking any chance meeting which +might trouble his way.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said his companion.</p> + +<p>They visited one of the better restaurants for a social chat. It was +five in the afternoon when they met; it was seven-thirty before the last +bone was picked.</p> + +<p>Drouet was just finishing a little incident he was relating, and his +face was expanding into a smile, when<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> Hurstwood's eye caught his own. +The latter had come in with several friends, and, seeing Drouet and some +woman, not Carrie, drew his own conclusion.</p> + +<p>"Ah, the rascal," he thought, and then, with a touch of righteous +sympathy, "that's pretty hard on the little girl."</p> + +<p>Drouet jumped from one easy thought to another as he caught Hurstwood's +eye. He felt but very little misgiving, until he saw that Hurstwood was +cautiously pretending not to see. Then some of the latter's impression +forced itself upon him. He thought of Carrie and their last meeting. By +George, he would have to explain this to Hurstwood. Such a chance +half-hour with an old friend must not have anything more attached to it +than it really warranted.</p> + +<p>For the first time he was troubled. Here was a moral complication of +which he could not possibly get the ends. Hurstwood would laugh at him +for being a fickle boy. He would laugh with Hurstwood. Carrie would +never hear, his present companion at table would never know, and yet he +could not help feeling that he was getting the worst of it—there was +some faint stigma attached, and he was not guilty. He broke up the +dinner by becoming dull, and saw his companion on her car. Then he went +home.</p> + +<p>"He hasn't talked to me about any of these later flames," thought +Hurstwood to himself. "He thinks I think he cares for the girl out +there."</p> + +<p>"He ought not to think I'm knocking around, since I have just introduced +him out there," thought Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I saw you," Hurstwood said, genially, the next time Drouet drifted in +to his polished resort, from which he could not stay away. He raised his +forefinger indicatively, as parents do to children.</p> + +<p>"An old acquaintance of mine that I ran into just as I<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> was coming up +from the station," explained Drouet. "She used to be quite a beauty."</p> + +<p>"Still attracts a little, eh?" returned the other, affecting to jest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Drouet, "just couldn't escape her this time."</p> + +<p>"How long are you here?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Only a few days."</p> + +<p>"You must bring the girl down and take dinner with me," he said. "I'm +afraid you keep her cooped up out there. I'll get a box for Joe +Jefferson."</p> + +<p>"Not me," answered the drummer. "Sure I'll come."</p> + +<p>This pleased Hurstwood immensely. He gave Drouet no credit for any +feelings toward Carrie whatever. He envied him, and now, as he looked at +the well-dressed, jolly salesman, whom he so much liked, the gleam of +the rival glowed in his eye. He began to "size up" Drouet from the +standpoints of wit and fascination. He began to look to see where he was +weak. There was no disputing that, whatever he might think of him as a +good fellow, he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as a lover. He +could hoodwink him all right. Why, if he would just let Carrie see one +such little incident as that of Thursday, it would settle the matter. He +ran on in thought, almost exulting, the while he laughed and chatted, +and Drouet felt nothing. He had no power of analysing the glance and the +atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood. He stood and smiled and accepted the +invitation while his friend examined him with the eye of a hawk.</p> + +<p>The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not thinking of +either. She was busy adjusting her thoughts and feelings to newer +conditions, and was not in danger of suffering disturbing pangs from +either quarter.</p> + +<p>One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before the glass.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p> + +<p>"Cad," said he, catching her, "I believe you're getting vain."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind," she returned, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're mighty pretty," he went on, slipping his arm around her. +"Put on that navy-blue dress of yours and I'll take you to the show."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've promised Mrs. Hale to go with her to the Exposition to-night," +she returned, apologetically.</p> + +<p>"You did, eh?" he said, studying the situation abstractedly. "I wouldn't +care to go to that myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," answered Carrie, puzzling, but not offering to +break her promise in his favour.</p> + +<p>Just then a knock came at their door and the maid-servant handed a +letter in.</p> + +<p>"He says there's an answer expected," she explained.</p> + +<p>"It's from Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the superscription as he tore +it open.</p> + +<p>"You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me to-night," it ran in +part. "It's my turn, as we agreed the other day. All other bets are +off."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you say to this?" asked Drouet, innocently, while +Carrie's mind bubbled with favourable replies.</p> + +<p>"You had better decide, Charlie," she said, reservedly.</p> + +<p>"I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs," +said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can," returned Carrie without thinking.</p> + +<p>Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. She +hardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed to her +most.</p> + +<p>"Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?" she asked, as she came out +with several articles of apparel pending.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he returned, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>She was relieved to see that he felt nothing. She did<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> not credit her +willingness to go to any fascination Hurstwood held for her. It seemed +that the combination of Hurstwood, Drouet, and herself was more +agreeable than anything else that had been suggested. She arrayed +herself most carefully and they started off, extending excuses upstairs.</p> + +<p>"I say," said Hurstwood, as they came up the theatre lobby, "we are +exceedingly charming this evening."</p> + +<p>Carrie fluttered under his approving glance.</p> + +<p>"Now, then," he said, leading the way up the foyer into the theatre.</p> + +<p>If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the personification of +the old term spick and span.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see Jefferson?" he questioned, as he leaned toward Carrie +in the box.</p> + +<p>"I never did," she returned.</p> + +<p>"He's delightful, delightful," he went on, giving the commonplace +rendition of approval which such men know. He sent Drouet after a +programme, and then discoursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he had +heard of him. The former was pleased beyond expression, and was really +hypnotised by the environment, the trappings of the box, the elegance of +her companion. Several times their eyes accidentally met, and then there +poured into hers such a flood of feeling as she had never before +experienced. She could not for the moment explain it, for in the next +glance or the next move of the hand there was seeming indifference, +mingled only with the kindest attention.</p> + +<p>Drouet shared in the conversation, but he was almost dull in comparison. +Hurstwood entertained them both, and now it was driven into Carrie's +mind that here was the superior man. She instinctively felt that he was +stronger and higher, and yet withal so simple. By the end of the third +act she was sure that Drouet was only a kindly soul,<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a> but otherwise +defective. He sank every moment in her estimation by the strong +comparison.</p> + +<p>"I have had such a nice time," said Carrie, when it was all over and +they were coming out.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," added Drouet, who was not in the least aware that a +battle had been fought and his defences weakened. He was like the +Emperor of China, who sat glorying in himself, unaware that his fairest +provinces were being wrested from him.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have saved me a dreary evening," returned Hurstwood. +"Good-night."</p> + +<p>He took Carrie's little hand, and a current of feeling swept from one to +the other.</p> + +<p>"I'm so tired," said Carrie, leaning back in the car when Drouet began +to talk.</p> + +<p>"Well, you rest a little while I smoke," he said, rising, and then he +foolishly went to the forward platform of the car and left the game as +it stood.<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><br /> +<small>OF THE LAMPS OF THE MANSIONS: THE AMBASSADOR'S PLEA</small></h2> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood was not aware of any of her husband's moral defections, +though she might readily have suspected his tendencies, which she well +understood. She was a woman upon whose action under provocation you +could never count. Hurstwood, for one, had not the slightest idea of +what she would do under certain circumstances. He had never seen her +thoroughly aroused. In fact, she was not a woman who would fly into a +passion. She had too little faith in mankind not to know that they were +erring. She was too calculating to jeopardise any advantage she might +gain in the way of information by fruitless clamour. Her wrath would +never wreak itself in one fell blow. She would wait and brood, studying +the details and adding to them until her power might be commensurate +with her desire for revenge. At the same time, she would not delay to +inflict any injury, big or little, which would wound the object of her +revenge and still leave him uncertain as to the source of the evil. She +was a cold, self-centred woman, with many a thought of her own which +never found expression, not even by so much as the glint of an eye.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood felt some of this in her nature, though he did not actually +perceive it. He dwelt with her in peace and some satisfaction. He did +not fear her in the least—there was no cause for it. She still took a +faint pride in him, which was augmented by her desire to have her<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> +social integrity maintained. She was secretly somewhat pleased by the +fact that much of her husband's property was in her name, a precaution +which Hurstwood had taken when his home interests were somewhat more +alluring than at present. His wife had not the slightest reason to feel +that anything would ever go amiss with their household, and yet the +shadows which run before gave her a thought of the good of it now and +then. She was in a position to become refractory with considerable +advantage, and Hurstwood conducted himself circumspectly because he felt +that he could not be sure of anything once she became dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>It so happened that on the night when Hurstwood, Carrie, and Drouet were +in the box at McVickar's, George, Jr., was in the sixth row of the +parquet with the daughter of H. B. Carmichael, the third partner of a +wholesale dry-goods house of that city. Hurstwood did not see his son, +for he sat, as was his wont, as far back as possible, leaving himself +just partially visible, when he bent forward, to those within the first +six rows in question. It was his wont to sit this way in every +theatre—to make his personality as inconspicuous as possible where it +would be no advantage to him to have it otherwise.</p> + +<p>He never moved but what, if there was any danger of his conduct being +misconstrued or ill-reported, he looked carefully about him and counted +the cost of every inch of conspicuity.</p> + +<p>The next morning at breakfast his son said:</p> + +<p>"I saw you, Governor, last night."</p> + +<p>"Were you at McVickar's?" said Hurstwood, with the best grace in the +world.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said young George.</p> + +<p>"Who with?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Carmichael."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood directed an inquiring glance at her<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> husband, but could +not judge from his appearance whether it was any more than a casual look +into the theatre which was referred to.</p> + +<p>"How was the play?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Very good," returned Hurstwood, "only it's the same old thing, 'Rip Van +Winkle.'"</p> + +<p>"Whom did you go with?" queried his wife, with assumed indifference.</p> + +<p>"Charlie Drouet and his wife. They are friends of Moy's, visiting here."</p> + +<p>Owing to the peculiar nature of his position, such a disclosure as this +would ordinarily create no difficulty. His wife took it for granted that +his situation called for certain social movements in which she might not +be included. But of late he had pleaded office duty on several occasions +when his wife asked for his company to any evening entertainment. He had +done so in regard to the very evening in question only the morning +before.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to be busy," she remarked, very carefully.</p> + +<p>"So I was," he exclaimed. "I couldn't help the interruption, but I made +up for it afterward by working until two."</p> + +<p>This settled the discussion for the time being, but there was a residue +of opinion which was not satisfactory. There was no time at which the +claims of his wife could have been more unsatisfactorily pushed. For +years he had been steadily modifying his matrimonial devotion, and found +her company dull. Now that a new light shone upon the horizon, this +older luminary paled in the west. He was satisfied to turn his face away +entirely, and any call to look back was irksome.</p> + +<p>She, on the contrary, was not at all inclined to accept anything less +than a complete fulfilment of the letter of their relationship, though +the spirit might be wanting.<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a></p> + +<p>"We are coming down town this afternoon," she remarked, a few days +later. "I want you to come over to Kinsley's and meet Mr. Phillips and +his wife. They're stopping at the Tremont, and we're going to show them +around a little."</p> + +<p>After the occurrence of Wednesday, he could not refuse, though the +Phillips were about as uninteresting as vanity and ignorance could make +them. He agreed, but it was with short grace. He was angry when he left +the house.</p> + +<p>"I'll put a stop to this," he thought. "I'm not going to be bothered +fooling around with visitors when I have work to do."</p> + +<p>Not long after this Mrs. Hurstwood came with a similar proposition, only +it was to a matinée this time.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he returned, "I haven't time. I'm too busy."</p> + +<p>"You find time to go with other people, though," she replied, with +considerable irritation.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind," he answered. "I can't avoid business relations, +and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind," she exclaimed. Her lips tightened. The feeling of +mutual antagonism was increased.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, his interest in Drouet's little shop-girl grew in an +almost evenly balanced proportion. That young lady, under the stress of +her situation and the tutelage of her new friend, changed effectively. +She had the aptitude of the struggler who seeks emancipation. The glow +of a more showy life was not lost upon her. She did not grow in +knowledge so much as she awakened in the matter of desire. Mrs. Hale's +extended harangues upon the subjects of wealth and position taught her +to distinguish between degrees of wealth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hale loved to drive in the afternoon in the sun when it was fine, +and to satisfy her soul with a sight of<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> those mansions and lawns which +she could not afford. On the North Side had been erected a number of +elegant mansions along what is now known as the North Shore Drive. The +present lake wall of stone and granitoid was not then in place, but the +road had been well laid out, the intermediate spaces of lawn were lovely +to look upon, and the houses were thoroughly new and imposing. When the +winter season had passed and the first fine days of the early spring +appeared, Mrs. Hale secured a buggy for an afternoon and invited Carrie. +They rode first through Lincoln Park and on far out towards Evanston, +turning back at four and arriving at the north end of the Shore Drive at +about five o'clock. At this time of year the days are still +comparatively short, and the shadows of the evening were beginning to +settle down upon the great city. Lamps were beginning to burn with that +mellow radiance which seems almost watery and translucent to the eye. +There was a softness in the air which speaks with an infinite delicacy +of feeling to the flesh as well as to the soul. Carrie felt that it was +a lovely day. She was ripened by it in spirit for many suggestions. As +they drove along the smooth pavement an occasional carriage passed. She +saw one stop and the footman dismount, opening the door for a gentleman +who seemed to be leisurely returning from some afternoon pleasure. +Across the broad lawns, now first freshening into green, she saw lamps +faintly glowing upon rich interiors. Now it was but a chair, now a +table, now an ornate corner, which met her eye, but it appealed to her +as almost nothing else could. Such childish fancies as she had had of +fairy palaces and kingly quarters now came back. She imagined that +across these richly carved entrance-ways, where the globed and +crystalled lamps shone upon panelled doors set with stained and designed +panes of glass, was neither care nor unsatisfied desire. She was +perfectly<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a> certain that here was happiness. If she could but stroll up +yon broad walk, cross that rich entrance-way, which to her was of the +beauty of a jewel, and sweep in grace and luxury to possession and +command—oh! how quickly would sadness flee; how, in an instant, would +the heartache end. She gazed and gazed, wondering, delighting, longing, +and all the while the siren voice of the unrestful was whispering in her +ear.</p> + +<p>"If we could have such a home as that," said Mrs. Hale sadly, "how +delightful it would be."</p> + +<p>"And yet they do say," said Carrie, "that no one is ever happy."</p> + +<p>She had heard so much of the canting philosophy of the grapeless fox.</p> + +<p>"I notice," said Mrs. Hale, "that they all try mighty hard, though, to +take their misery in a mansion."</p> + +<p>When she came to her own rooms, Carrie saw their comparative +insignificance. She was not so dull but that she could perceive they +were but three small rooms in a moderately well-furnished +boarding-house. She was not contrasting it now with what she had had, +but what she had so recently seen. The glow of the palatial doors was +still in her eye, the roll of cushioned carriages still in her ears. +What, after all, was Drouet? What was she? At her window, she thought it +over, rocking to and fro, and gazing out across the lamp-lit park toward +the lamp-lit houses on Warren and Ashland avenues. She was too wrought +up to care to go down to eat, too pensive to do aught but rock and sing. +Some old tunes crept to her lips, and, as she sang them, her heart sank. +She longed and longed and longed. It was now for the old cottage room in +Columbia City, now the mansion upon the Shore Drive, now the fine dress +of some lady, now the elegance of some scene. She was sad beyond +measure, and yet uncertain, wishing, fancying. Finally, it seemed as if +all her<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> state was one of loneliness and forsakenness, and she could +scarce refrain from trembling at the lip. She hummed and hummed as the +moments went by, sitting in the shadow by the window, and was therein as +happy, though she did not perceive it, as she ever would be.</p> + +<p>While Carrie was still in this frame of mind, the house-servant brought +up the intelligence that Mr. Hurstwood was in the parlour asking to see +Mr. and Mrs. Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I guess he doesn't know that Charlie is out of town," thought Carrie.</p> + +<p>She had seen comparatively little of the manager during the winter, but +had been kept constantly in mind of him by one thing and another, +principally by the strong impression he had made. She was quite +disturbed for the moment as to her appearance, but soon satisfied +herself by the aid of the mirror, and went below.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was in his best form, as usual. He hadn't heard that Drouet +was out of town. He was but slightly affected by the intelligence, and +devoted himself to the more general topics which would interest Carrie. +It was surprising—the ease with which he conducted a conversation. He +was like every man who has had the advantage of practice and knows he +has sympathy. He knew that Carrie listened to him pleasurably, and, +without the least effort, he fell into a train of observation which +absorbed her fancy. He drew up his chair and modulated his voice to such +a degree that what he said seemed wholly confidential. He confined +himself almost exclusively to his observation of men and pleasures. He +had been here and there, he had seen this and that. Somehow he made +Carrie wish to see similar things, and all the while kept her aware of +himself. She could not shut out the consciousness of his individuality +and presence for a moment. He would raise his eyes slowly in smiling +emphasis of something, and she was fixed by<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> their magnetism. He would +draw out, with the easiest grace, her approval. Once he touched her hand +for emphasis and she only smiled. He seemed to radiate an atmosphere +which suffused her being. He was never dull for a minute, and seemed to +make her clever. At least, she brightened under his influence until all +her best side was exhibited. She felt that she was more clever with him +than with others. At least, he seemed to find so much in her to applaud. +There was not the slightest touch of patronage. Drouet was full of it.</p> + +<p>There had been something so personal, so subtle, in each meeting between +them, both when Drouet was present and when he was absent, that Carrie +could not speak of it without feeling a sense of difficulty. She was no +talker. She could never arrange her thoughts in fluent order. It was +always a matter of feeling with her, strong and deep. Each time there +had been no sentence of importance which she could relate, and as for +the glances and sensations, what woman would reveal them? Such things +had never been between her and Drouet. As a matter of fact, they could +never be. She had been dominated by distress and the enthusiastic forces +of relief which Drouet represented at an opportune moment when she +yielded to him. Now she was persuaded by secret current feelings which +Drouet had never understood. Hurstwood's glance was as effective as the +spoken words of a lover, and more. They called for no immediate +decision, and could not be answered.</p> + +<p>People in general attach too much importance to words. They are under +the illusion that talking effects great results. As a matter of fact, +words are, as a rule, the shallowest portion of all the argument. They +but dimly represent the great surging feelings and desires which lie +behind. When the distraction of the tongue is removed, the heart +listens.<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a></p> + +<p>In this conversation she heard, instead of his words, the voices of the +things which he represented. How suave was the counsel of his +appearance! How feelingly did his superior state speak for itself! The +growing desire he felt for her lay upon her spirit as a gentle hand. She +did not need to tremble at all, because it was invisible; she did not +need to worry over what other people would say—what she herself would +say—because it had no tangibility. She was being pleaded with, +persuaded, led into denying old rights and assuming new ones, and yet +there were no words to prove it. Such conversation as was indulged in +held the same relationship to the actual mental enactments of the twain +that the low music of the orchestra does to the dramatic incident which +it is used to cover.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever seen the houses along the Lake Shore on the North Side?" +asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Why, I was just over there this afternoon—Mrs. Hale and I. Aren't they +beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"They're very fine," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, me," said Carrie, pensively. "I wish I could live in such a place."</p> + +<p>"You're not happy," said Hurstwood, slowly, after a slight pause.</p> + +<p>He had raised his eyes solemnly and was looking into her own. He assumed +that he had struck a deep chord. Now was a slight chance to say a word +in his own behalf. He leaned over quietly and continued his steady gaze. +He felt the critical character of the period. She endeavoured to stir, +but it was useless. The whole strength of a man's nature was working. He +had good cause to urge him on. He looked and looked, and the longer the +situation lasted the more difficult it became. The little shop-girl was +getting into deep water. She was letting her few supports float away +from her.<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh," she said at last, "you mustn't look at me like that."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," he answered.</p> + +<p>She relaxed a little and let the situation endure, giving him strength.</p> + +<p>"You are not satisfied with life, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, weakly.</p> + +<p>He saw he was the master of the situation—he felt it. He reached over +and touched her hand.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't," she exclaimed, jumping up.</p> + +<p>"I didn't intend to," he answered, easily.</p> + +<p>She did not run away, as she might have done. She did not terminate the +interview, but he drifted off into a pleasant field of thought with the +readiest grace. Not long after he rose to go, and she felt that he was +in power.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't feel bad," he said, kindly; "things will straighten out in +the course of time."</p> + +<p>She made no answer, because she could think of nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"We are good friends, aren't we?" he said, extending his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Not a word, then, until I see you again."</p> + +<p>He retained a hold on her hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't promise," she said, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"You must be more generous than that," he said, in such a simple way +that she was touched.</p> + +<p>"Let's not talk about it any more," she returned.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said, brightening.</p> + +<p>He went down the steps and into his cab. Carrie closed the door and +ascended into her room. She undid her broad lace collar before the +mirror and unfastened her pretty alligator belt which she had recently +bought.</p> + +<p>"I'm getting terrible," she said, honestly affected by a<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> feeling of +trouble and shame. "I don't seem to do anything right."</p> + +<p>She unloosed her hair after a time, and let it hang in loose brown +waves. Her mind was going over the events of the evening.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she murmured at last, "what I can do."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Hurstwood as he rode away, "she likes me all right; that I +know."</p> + +<p>The aroused manager whistled merrily for a good four miles to his office +an old melody that he had not recalled for fifteen years.<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><br /> +<small>HIS CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED: A BABEL OF TONGUES</small></h2> + +<p>It was not quite two days after the scene between Carrie and Hurstwood +in the Ogden Place parlour before he again put in his appearance. He had +been thinking almost uninterruptedly of her. Her leniency had, in a way, +inflamed his regard. He felt that he must succeed with her, and that +speedily.</p> + +<p>The reason for his interest, not to say fascination, was deeper than +mere desire. It was a flowering out of feelings which had been withering +in dry and almost barren soil for many years. It is probable that Carrie +represented a better order of woman than had ever attracted him before. +He had had no love affair since that which culminated in his marriage, +and since then time and the world had taught him how raw and erroneous +was his original judgment. Whenever he thought of it, he told himself +that, if he had it to do over again, he would never marry such a woman. +At the same time, his experience with women in general had lessened his +respect for the sex. He maintained a cynical attitude, well grounded on +numerous experiences. Such women as he had known were of nearly one +type, selfish, ignorant, flashy. The wives of his friends were not +inspiring to look upon. His own wife had developed a cold, commonplace +nature which to him was anything but pleasing. What he knew of that +under-world where grovel the beast-men of society (and he knew a great +deal) had hardened his nature. He<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> looked upon most women with +suspicion—a single eye to the utility of beauty and dress. He followed +them with a keen, suggestive glance. At the same time, he was not so +dull but that a good woman commanded his respect. Personally, he did not +attempt to analyse the marvel of a saintly woman. He would take off his +hat, and would silence the light-tongued and the vicious in her +presence—much as the Irish keeper of a Bowery hall will humble himself +before a Sister of Mercy, and pay toll to charity with a willing and +reverent hand. But he would not think much upon the question of why he +did so.</p> + +<p>A man in his situation who comes, after a long round of worthless or +hardening experiences, upon a young, unsophisticated, innocent soul, is +apt either to hold aloof, out of a sense of his own remoteness, or to +draw near and become fascinated and elated by his discovery. It is only +by a roundabout process that such men ever do draw near such a girl. +They have no method, no understanding of how to ingratiate themselves in +youthful favour, save when they find virtue in the toils. If, +unfortunately, the fly has got caught in the net, the spider can come +forth and talk business upon its own terms. So when maidenhood has +wandered into the moil of the city, when it is brought within the circle +of the "rounder" and the roué, even though it be at the outermost rim, +they can come forth and use their alluring arts.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood had gone, at Drouet's invitation, to meet a new baggage of +fine clothes and pretty features. He entered, expecting to indulge in an +evening of lightsome frolic, and then lose track of the newcomer +forever. Instead he found a woman whose youth and beauty attracted him. +In the mild light of Carrie's eye was nothing of the calculation of the +mistress. In the diffident manner was nothing of the art of the +courtesan. He saw at once that a mistake had been made, that some +difficult conditions<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> had pushed this troubled creature into his +presence, and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to the +rescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He wanted to win Carrie +because he thought her fate mingled with his was better than if it were +united with Drouet's. He envied the drummer his conquest as he had never +envied any man in all the course of his experience.</p> + +<p>Carrie was certainly better than this man, as she was superior, +mentally, to Drouet. She came fresh from the air of the village, the +light of the country still in her eye. Here was neither guile nor +rapacity. There were slight inherited traits of both in her, but they +were rudimentary. She was too full of wonder and desire to be greedy. +She still looked about her upon the great maze of the city without +understanding. Hurstwood felt the bloom and the youth. He picked her as +he would the fresh fruit of a tree. He felt as fresh in her presence as +one who is taken out of the flash of summer to the first cool breath of +spring.</p> + +<p>Carrie, left alone since the scene in question, and having no one with +whom to counsel, had at first wandered from one strange mental +conclusion to another, until at last, tired out, she gave it up. She +owed something to Drouet, she thought. It did not seem more than +yesterday that he had aided her when she was worried and distressed. She +had the kindliest feelings for him in every way. She gave him credit for +his good looks, his generous feelings, and even, in fact, failed to +recollect his egotism when he was absent; but she could not feel any +binding influence keeping her for him as against all others. In fact, +such a thought had never had any grounding, even in Drouet's desires.</p> + +<p>The truth is, that this goodly drummer carried the doom of all enduring +relationships in his own lightsome<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> manner and unstable fancy. He went +merrily on, assured that he was alluring all, that affection followed +tenderly in his wake, that things would endure unchangingly for his +pleasure. When he missed some old face, or found some door finally shut +to him, it did not grieve him deeply. He was too young, too successful. +He would remain thus young in spirit until he was dead.</p> + +<p>As for Hurstwood, he was alive with thoughts and feelings concerning +Carrie. He had no definite plans regarding her, but he was determined to +make her confess an affection for him. He thought he saw in her drooping +eye, her unstable glance, her wavering manner, the symptoms of a budding +passion. He wanted to stand near her and make her lay her hand in +his—he wanted to find out what her next step would be—what the next +sign of feeling for him would be. Such anxiety and enthusiasm had not +affected him for years. He was a youth again in feeling—a cavalier in +action.</p> + +<p>In his position opportunity for taking his evenings out was excellent. +He was a most faithful worker in general, and a man who commanded the +confidence of his employers in so far as the distribution of his time +was concerned. He could take such hours off as he chose, for it was well +known that he fulfilled his managerial duties successfully, whatever +time he might take. His grace, tact, and ornate appearance gave the +place an air which was most essential, while at the same time his long +experience made him a most excellent judge of its stock necessities. +Bartenders and assistants might come and go, singly or in groups, but, +so long as he was present, the host of old-time customers would barely +notice the change. He gave the place the atmosphere to which they were +used. Consequently, he arranged his hours very much to suit himself, +taking now an afternoon, now an evening, but invariably returning +between eleven and<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> twelve to witness the last hour or two of the day's +business and look after the closing details.</p> + +<p>"You see that things are safe and all the employees are out when you go +home, George," Moy had once remarked to him, and he never once, in all +the period of his long service, neglected to do this. Neither of the +owners had for years been in the resort after five in the afternoon, and +yet their manager as faithfully fulfilled this request as if they had +been there regularly to observe.</p> + +<p>On this Friday afternoon, scarcely two days after his previous visit, he +made up his mind to see Carrie. He could not stay away longer.</p> + +<p>"Evans," he said, addressing the head barkeeper, "if any one calls, I +will be back between four and five."</p> + +<p>He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, which carried him +to Ogden Place in half an hour.</p> + +<p>Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on a light grey +woollen dress with a jaunty double-breasted jacket. She had out her hat +and gloves, and was fastening a white lace tie about her throat when the +house-maid brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished to see +her.</p> + +<p>She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say that +she would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing.</p> + +<p>Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glad +or sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence. She was +slightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was more +nervousness than either fear or favour. She did not try to conjecture +what the drift of the conversation would be. She only felt that she must +be careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination for her. +Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and went below.</p> + +<p>The deep-feeling manager was himself a little strained<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a> in the nerves by +the thorough consciousness of his mission. He felt that he must make a +strong play on this occasion, but now that the hour was come, and he +heard Carrie's feet upon the stair, his nerve failed him. He sank a +little in determination, for he was not so sure, after all, what her +opinion might be.</p> + +<p>When she entered the room, however, her appearance gave him courage. She +looked simple and charming enough to strengthen the daring of any lover. +Her apparent nervousness dispelled his own.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" he said, easily. "I could not resist the temptation to +come out this afternoon, it was so pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie, halting before him, "I was just preparing to go for +a walk myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, were you?" he said. "Supposing, then, you get your hat and we both +go?"</p> + +<p>They crossed the park and went west along Washington Boulevard, +beautiful with its broad macadamised road, and large frame houses set +back from the sidewalks. It was a street where many of the more +prosperous residents of the West Side lived, and Hurstwood could not +help feeling nervous over the publicity of it. They had gone but a few +blocks when a livery stable sign in one of the side streets solved the +difficulty for him. He would take her to drive along the new Boulevard.</p> + +<p>The Boulevard at that time was little more than a country road. The part +he intended showing her was much farther out on this same West Side, +where there was scarcely a house. It connected Douglas Park with +Washington or South Park, and was nothing more than a neatly made road, +running due south for some five miles over an open, grassy prairie, and +then due east over the same kind of prairie for the same distance. There +was not a house to be encountered anywhere along the larger<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> part of the +route, and any conversation would be pleasantly free of interruption.</p> + +<p>At the stable he picked a gentle horse, and they were soon out of range +of either public observation or hearing.</p> + +<p>"Can you drive?" he said, after a time.</p> + +<p>"I never tried," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>He put the reins in her hand, and folded his arms.</p> + +<p>"You see there's nothing to it much," he said, smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Not when you have a gentle horse," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You can handle a horse as well as any one, after a little practice," he +added, encouragingly.</p> + +<p>He had been looking for some time for a break in the conversation when +he could give it a serious turn. Once or twice he had held his peace, +hoping that in silence her thoughts would take the colour of his own, +but she had lightly continued the subject. Presently, however, his +silence controlled the situation. The drift of his thoughts began to +tell. He gazed fixedly at nothing in particular, as if he were thinking +of something which concerned her not at all. His thoughts, however, +spoke for themselves. She was very much aware that a climax was pending.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, "I have spent the happiest evenings in years +since I have known you?"</p> + +<p>"Have you?" she said, with assumed airiness, but still excited by the +conviction which the tone of his voice carried.</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you the other evening," he added, "but somehow the +opportunity slipped away."</p> + +<p>Carrie was listening without attempting to reply. She could think of +nothing worth while to say. Despite all the ideas concerning right which +had troubled her vaguely since she had last seen him, she was now +influenced again strongly in his favour.</p> + +<p>"I came out here to-day," he went on, solemnly, "to<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a> tell you just how I +feel—to see if you wouldn't listen to me."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was something of a romanticist after his kind. He was capable +of strong feelings—often poetic ones—and under a stress of desire, +such as the present, he waxed eloquent. That is, his feelings and his +voice were coloured with that seeming repression and pathos which is the +essence of eloquence.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, putting his hand on her arm, and keeping a strange +silence while he formulated words, "that I love you?"</p> + +<p>Carrie did not stir at the words. She was bound up completely in the +man's atmosphere. He would have church-like silence in order to express +his feelings, and she kept it. She did not move her eyes from the flat, +open scene before her. Hurstwood waited for a few moments, and then +repeated the words.</p> + +<p>"You must not say that," she said, weakly.</p> + +<p>Her words were not convincing at all. They were the result of a feeble +thought that something ought to be said. He paid no attention to them +whatever.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," he said, using her first name with sympathetic familiarity, "I +want you to love me. You don't know how much I need some one to waste a +little affection on me. I am practically alone. There is nothing in my +life that is pleasant or delightful. It's all work and worry with people +who are nothing to me."</p> + +<p>As he said this, Hurstwood really imagined that his state was pitiful. +He had the ability to get off at a distance and view himself +objectively—of seeing what he wanted to see in the things which made up +his existence. Now, as he spoke, his voice trembled with that peculiar +vibration which is the result of tensity. It went ringing home to his +companion's heart.</p> + +<p>"Why, I should think," she said, turning upon him<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> large eyes which were +full of sympathy and feeling, "that you would be very happy. You know so +much of the world."</p> + +<p>"That is it," he said, his voice dropping to a soft minor, "I know too +much of the world."</p> + +<p>It was an important thing to her to hear one so well-positioned and +powerful speaking in this manner. She could not help feeling the +strangeness of her situation. How was it that, in so little a while, the +narrow life of the country had fallen from her as a garment, and the +city, with all its mystery, taken its place? Here was this greatest +mystery, the man of money and affairs sitting beside her, appealing to +her. Behold, he had ease and comfort, his strength was great, his +position high, his clothing rich, and yet he was appealing to her. She +could formulate no thought which would be just and right. She troubled +herself no more upon the matter. She only basked in the warmth of his +feeling, which was as a grateful blaze to one who is cold. Hurstwood +glowed with his own intensity, and the heat of his passion was already +melting the wax of his companion's scruples.</p> + +<p>"You think," he said, "I am happy; that I ought not to complain? If you +were to meet all day with people who care absolutely nothing about you, +if you went day after day to a place where there was nothing but show +and indifference, if there was not one person in all those you knew to +whom you could appeal for sympathy or talk to with pleasure, perhaps you +would be unhappy too."</p> + +<p>He was striking a chord now which found sympathetic response in her own +situation. She knew what it was to meet with people who were +indifferent, to walk alone amid so many who cared absolutely nothing +about you. Had not she? Was not she at this very moment quite alone?<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> +Who was there among all whom she knew to whom she could appeal for +sympathy? Not one. She was left to herself to brood and wonder.</p> + +<p>"I could be content," went on Hurstwood, "if I had you to love me. If I +had you to go to; you for a companion. As it is, I simply move about +from place to place without any satisfaction. Time hangs heavily on my +hands. Before you came I did nothing but idle and drift into anything +that offered itself. Since you came—well, I've had you to think about."</p> + +<p>The old illusion that here was some one who needed her aid began to grow +in Carrie's mind. She truly pitied this sad, lonely figure. To think +that all his fine state should be so barren for want of her; that he +needed to make such an appeal when she herself was lonely and without +anchor. Surely, this was too bad.</p> + +<p>"I am not very bad," he said, apologetically, as if he owed it to her to +explain on this score. "You think, probably, that I roam around, and get +into all sorts of evil? I have been rather reckless, but I could easily +come out of that. I need you to draw me back, if my life ever amounts to +anything."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him with the tenderness which virtue ever feels in its +hope of reclaiming vice. How could such a man need reclaiming? His +errors, what were they, that she could correct? Small they must be, +where all was so fine. At worst, they were gilded affairs, and with what +leniency are gilded errors viewed.</p> + +<p>He put himself in such a lonely light that she was deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"Is it that way?" she mused.</p> + +<p>He slipped his arm about her waist, and she could not find the heart to +draw away. With his free hand he seized upon her fingers. A breath of +soft spring wind went bounding over the road, rolling some brown twigs<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> +of the previous autumn before it. The horse paced leisurely on, +unguided.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said, softly, "that you love me."</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell consciously.</p> + +<p>"Own to it, dear," he said, feelingly; "you do, don't you?"</p> + +<p>She made no answer, but he felt his victory.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said, richly, drawing her so close that their lips were +near together. He pressed her hand warmly, and then released it to touch +her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You do?" he said, pressing his lips to her own.</p> + +<p>For answer, her lips replied.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, "you're my own girl, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon his shoulder.<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><br /> +<small>WITH EYES AND NOT SEEING: ONE INFLUENCE WANES</small></h2> + +<p>Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, physically and +mentally. She was deeply rejoicing in her affection for Hurstwood and +his love, and looked forward with fine fancy to their next meeting +Sunday night. They had agreed, without any feeling of enforced secrecy, +that she should come down town and meet him, though, after all, the need +of it was the cause.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hale, from her upper window, saw her come in.</p> + +<p>"Um," she thought to herself, "she goes riding with another man when her +husband is out of the city. He had better keep an eye on her."</p> + +<p>The truth is that Mrs. Hale was not the only one who had a thought on +this score. The house-maid who had welcomed Hurstwood had her opinion +also. She had no particular regard for Carrie, whom she took to be cold +and disagreeable. At the same time, she had a fancy for the merry and +easy-mannered Drouet, who threw her a pleasant remark now and then, and +in other ways extended her the evidence of that regard which he had for +all members of the sex. Hurstwood was more reserved and critical in his +manner. He did not appeal to this bodiced functionary in the same +pleasant way. She wondered that he came so frequently, that Mrs. Drouet +should go out with him this afternoon when Mr. Drouet was absent. She +gave vent to her opinions in the kitchen where the cook was. As a +result, a hum of gossip was set going which moved<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> about the house in +that secret manner common to gossip.</p> + +<p>Carrie, now that she had yielded sufficiently to Hurstwood to confess +her affection, no longer troubled about her attitude towards him. +Temporarily she gave little thought to Drouet, thinking only of the +dignity and grace of her lover and of his consuming affection for her. +On the first evening, she did little but go over the details of the +afternoon. It was the first time her sympathies had ever been thoroughly +aroused, and they threw a new light on her character. She had some power +of initiative, latent before, which now began to exert itself. She +looked more practically upon her state and began to see glimmerings of a +way out. Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction of honour. Her +feelings were exceedingly creditable, in that they constructed out of +these recent developments something which conquered freedom from +dishonour. She had no idea what Hurstwood's next word would be. She only +took his affection to be a fine thing, and appended better, more +generous results accordingly.</p> + +<p>As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure without responsibility. +He did not feel that he was doing anything to complicate his life. His +position was secure, his home-life, if not satisfactory, was at least +undisturbed, his personal liberty rather untrammelled. Carrie's love +represented only so much added pleasure. He would enjoy this new gift +over and above his ordinary allowance of pleasure. He would be happy +with her and his own affairs would go on as they had, undisturbed.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening Carrie dined with him at a place he had selected in +East Adams Street, and thereafter they took a cab to what was then a +pleasant evening resort out on Cottage Grove Avenue near 39th Street. In +the process of his declaration he soon realised that Carrie took his +love upon a higher basis than he had anticipated. She<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a> kept him at a +distance in a rather earnest way, and submitted only to those tender +tokens of affection which better become the inexperienced lover. +Hurstwood saw that she was not to be possessed for the asking, and +deferred pressing his suit too warmly.</p> + +<p>Since he feigned to believe in her married state he found that he had to +carry out the part. His triumph, he saw, was still at a little distance. +How far he could not guess.</p> + +<p>They were returning to Ogden Place in the cab, when he asked:</p> + +<p>"When will I see you again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered, wondering herself.</p> + +<p>"Why not come down to The Fair," he suggested, "next Tuesday?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not so soon," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do," he added. "I'll write you, care of this +West Side Post-office. Could you call next Tuesday?"</p> + +<p>Carrie assented.</p> + +<p>The cab stopped one door out of the way according to his call.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he whispered, as the cab rolled away.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for the smooth progression of this affair, Drouet +returned. Hurstwood was sitting in his imposing little office the next +afternoon when he saw Drouet enter.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Charles," he called affably; "back again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," smiled Drouet, approaching and looking in at the door.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood arose.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, looking the drummer over, "rosy as ever, eh?"</p> + +<p>They began talking of the people they knew and things that had happened.</p> + +<p>"Been home yet?" finally asked Hurstwood.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a></p> + +<p>"No, I am going, though," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I remembered the little girl out there," said Hurstwood, "and called +once. Thought you wouldn't want her left quite alone."</p> + +<p>"Right you are," agreed Drouet. "How is she?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Hurstwood. "Rather anxious about you, though. You'd +better go out now and cheer her up."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Drouet, smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Like to have you both come down and go to the show with me Wednesday," +concluded Hurstwood at parting.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, old man," said his friend, "I'll see what the girl says and let +you know."</p> + +<p>They separated in the most cordial manner.</p> + +<p>"There's a nice fellow," Drouet thought to himself as he turned the +corner towards Madison.</p> + +<p>"Drouet is a good fellow," Hurstwood thought to himself as he went back +into his office, "but he's no man for Carrie."</p> + +<p>The thought of the latter turned his mind into a most pleasant vein, and +he wondered how he would get ahead of the drummer.</p> + +<p>When Drouet entered Carrie's presence, he caught her in his arms as +usual, but she responded to his kiss with a tremour of opposition.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I had a great trip."</p> + +<p>"Did you? How did you come out with that La Crosse man you were telling +me about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, fine; sold him a complete line. There was another fellow there, +representing Burnstein, a regular hook-nosed sheeny, but he wasn't in +it. I made him look like nothing at all."</p> + +<p>As he undid his collar and unfastened his studs, preparatory to washing +his face and changing his clothes, he<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> dilated upon his trip. Carrie +could not help listening with amusement to his animated descriptions.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," he said, "I surprised the people at the office. I've sold +more goods this last quarter than any other man of our house on the +road. I sold three thousand dollars' worth in La Crosse."</p> + +<p>He plunged his face in a basin of water, and puffed and blew as he +rubbed his neck and ears with his hands, while Carrie gazed upon him +with mingled thoughts of recollection and present judgment. He was still +wiping his face, when he continued:</p> + +<p>"I'm going to strike for a raise in June. They can afford to pay it, as +much business as I turn in. I'll get it too, don't you forget."</p> + +<p>"I hope you do," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"And then if that little real estate deal I've got on goes through, +we'll get married," he said with a great show of earnestness, the while +he took his place before the mirror and began brushing his hair.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you ever intend to marry me, Charlie," Carrie said +ruefully. The recent protestations of Hurstwood had given her courage to +say this.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes I do—course I do—what put that into your head?"</p> + +<p>He had stopped his trifling before the mirror now and crossed over to +her. For the first time Carrie felt as if she must move away from him.</p> + +<p>"But you've been saying that so long," she said, looking with her pretty +face upturned into his.</p> + +<p>"Well, and I mean it too, but it takes money to live as I want to. Now, +when I get this increase, I can come pretty near fixing things all +right, and I'll do it. Now, don't you worry, girlie."</p> + +<p>He patted her reassuringly upon the shoulder, but Carrie felt how really +futile had been her hopes. She could<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> clearly see that this easy-going +soul intended no move in her behalf. He was simply letting things drift +because he preferred the free round of his present state to any legal +trammellings.</p> + +<p>In contrast, Hurstwood appeared strong and sincere. He had no easy +manner of putting her off. He sympathised with her and showed her what +her true value was. He needed her, while Drouet did not care.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said remorsefully, her tone reflecting some of her own +success and more of her helplessness, "you never will."</p> + +<p>"Well, you wait a little while and see," he concluded. "I'll marry you +all right."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him and felt justified. She was looking for something +which would calm her conscience, and here it was, a light, airy +disregard of her claims upon his justice. He had faithfully promised to +marry her, and this was the way he fulfilled his promise.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, after he had, as he thought, pleasantly disposed of the +marriage question, "I saw Hurstwood to-day, and he wants us to go to the +theatre with him."</p> + +<p>Carrie started at the name, but recovered quickly enough to avoid +notice.</p> + +<p>"When?" she asked, with assumed indifference.</p> + +<p>"Wednesday. We'll go, won't we?"</p> + +<p>"If you think so," she answered, her manner being so enforcedly reserved +as to almost excite suspicion. Drouet noticed something, but he thought +it was due to her feelings concerning their talk about marriage.</p> + +<p>"He called once, he said."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie, "he was out here Sunday evening."</p> + +<p>"Was he?" said Drouet. "I thought from what he said that he had called a +week or so ago."</p> + +<p>"So he did," answered Carrie, who was wholly unaware of what +conversation her lovers might have held. She<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> was all at sea mentally, +and fearful of some entanglement which might ensue from what she would +answer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then he called twice?" said Drouet, the first shade of +misunderstanding showing in his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie innocently, feeling now that Hurstwood must have +mentioned but one call.</p> + +<p>Drouet imagined that he must have misunderstood his friend. He did not +attach particular importance to the information, after all.</p> + +<p>"What did he have to say?" he queried, with slightly increased +curiosity.</p> + +<p>"He said he came because he thought I might be lonely. You hadn't been +in there so long he wondered what had become of you."</p> + +<p>"George is a fine fellow," said Drouet, rather gratified by his +conception of the manager's interest. "Come on and we'll go out to +dinner."</p> + +<p>When Hurstwood saw that Drouet was back he wrote at once to Carrie, +saying:</p> + +<p>"I told him I called on you, dearest, when he was away. I did not say +how often, but he probably thought once. Let me know of anything you may +have said. Answer by special messenger when you get this, and, darling, +I must see you. Let me know if you can't meet me at Jackson and Throop +Streets Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock. I want to speak with you +before we meet at the theatre."</p> + +<p>Carrie received this Tuesday morning when she called at the West Side +branch of the post-office, and answered at once.</p> + +<p>"I said you called twice," she wrote. "He didn't seem to mind. I will +try and be at Throop Street if nothing interferes. I seem to be getting +very bad. It's wrong to act as I do, I know."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, when he met her as agreed, reassured her on this score.<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a></p> + +<p>"You mustn't worry, sweetheart," he said. "Just as soon as he goes on +the road again we will arrange something. We'll fix it so that you won't +have to deceive any one."</p> + +<p>Carrie imagined that he would marry her at once, though he had not +directly said so, and her spirits rose. She proposed to make the best of +the situation until Drouet left again.</p> + +<p>"Don't show any more interest in me than you ever have," Hurstwood +counselled concerning the evening at the theatre.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't look at me steadily then," she answered, mindful of the +power of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I won't," he said, squeezing her hand at parting and giving the glance +she had just cautioned against.</p> + +<p>"There," she said playfully, pointing a finger at him.</p> + +<p>"The show hasn't begun yet," he returned.</p> + +<p>He watched her walk from him with tender solicitation. Such youth and +prettiness reacted upon him more subtly than wine.</p> + +<p>At the theatre things passed as they had in Hurstwood's favour. If he +had been pleasing to Carrie before, how much more so was he now. His +grace was more permeating because it found a readier medium. Carrie +watched his every movement with pleasure. She almost forgot poor Drouet, +who babbled on as if he were the host.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was too clever to give the slightest indication of a change. +He paid, if anything, more attention to his old friend than usual, and +yet in no way held him up to that subtle ridicule which a lover in +favour may so secretly practise before the mistress of his heart. If +anything, he felt the injustice of the game as it stood, and was not +cheap enough to add to it the slightest mental taunt.<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a></p> + +<p>Only the play produced an ironical situation, and this was due to Drouet +alone.</p> + +<p>The scene was one in "The Covenant," in which the wife listened to the +seductive voice of a lover in the absence of her husband.</p> + +<p>"Served him right," said Drouet afterward, even in view of her keen +expiation of her error. "I haven't any pity for a man who would be such +a chump as that."</p> + +<p>"Well, you never can tell," returned Hurstwood gently. "He probably +thought he was right."</p> + +<p>"Well, a man ought to be more attentive than that to his wife if he +wants to keep her."</p> + +<p>They had come out of the lobby and made their way through the showy +crush about the entrance way.</p> + +<p>"Say, mister," said a voice at Hurstwood's side, "would you mind giving +me the price of a bed?"</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was interestedly remarking to Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Honest to God, mister, I'm without a place to sleep."</p> + +<p>The plea was that of a gaunt-faced man of about thirty, who looked the +picture of privation and wretchedness. Drouet was the first to see. He +handed over a dime with an upwelling feeling of pity in his heart. +Hurstwood scarcely noticed the incident. Carrie quickly forgot.<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><br /> +<small>THE IRK OF THE OLD TIES: THE MAGIC OF YOUTH</small></h2> + +<p>The complete ignoring by Hurstwood of his own home came with the growth +of his affection for Carrie. His actions, in all that related to his +family, were of the most perfunctory kind. He sat at breakfast with his +wife and children, absorbed in his own fancies, which reached far +without the realm of their interests. He read his paper, which was +heightened in interest by the shallowness of the themes discussed by his +son and daughter. Between himself and his wife ran a river of +indifference.</p> + +<p>Now that Carrie had come, he was in a fair way to be blissful again. +There was delight in going down town evenings. When he walked forth in +the short days, the street lamps had a merry twinkle. He began to +experience the almost forgotten feeling which hastens the lover's feet. +When he looked at his fine clothes, he saw them with her eyes—and her +eyes were young.</p> + +<p>When in the flush of such feelings he heard his wife's voice, when the +insistent demands of matrimony recalled him from dreams to a stale +practice, how it grated. He then knew that this was a chain which bound +his feet.</p> + +<p>"George," said Mrs. Hurstwood, in that tone of voice which had long +since come to be associated in his mind with demands, "we want you to +get us a season ticket to the races."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to go to all of them?" he said with a rising inflection.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a></p> + +<p>The races in question were soon to open at Washington Park, on the South +Side, and were considered quite society affairs among those who did not +affect religious rectitude and conservatism. Mrs. Hurstwood had never +asked for a whole season ticket before, but this year certain +considerations decided her to get a box. For one thing, one of her +neighbours, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, who were possessors of money, +made out of the coal business, had done so. In the next place, her +favourite physician, Dr. Beale, a gentleman inclined to horses and +betting, had talked with her concerning his intention to enter a +two-year-old in the Derby. In the third place, she wished to exhibit +Jessica, who was gaining in maturity and beauty, and whom she hoped to +marry to a man of means. Her own desire to be about in such things and +parade among her acquaintances and the common throng was as much an +incentive as anything.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood thought over the proposition a few moments without answering. +They were in the sitting-room on the second floor, waiting for supper. +It was the evening of his engagement with Carrie and Drouet to see "The +Covenant," which had brought him home to make some alterations in his +dress.</p> + +<p>"You're sure separate tickets wouldn't do as well?" he asked, hesitating +to say anything more rugged.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, taking offence at her manner, "you needn't get mad +about it. I'm just asking you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not mad," she snapped. "I'm merely asking you for a season ticket."</p> + +<p>"And I'm telling you," he returned, fixing a clear, steady eye on her, +"that it's no easy thing to get. I'm not sure whether the manager will +give it to me."</p> + +<p>He had been thinking all the time of his "pull" with the race-track +magnates.<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a></p> + +<p>"We can buy it then," she exclaimed sharply.</p> + +<p>"You talk easy," he said. "A season family ticket costs one hundred and +fifty dollars."</p> + +<p>"I'll not argue with you," she replied with determination. "I want the +ticket and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>She had risen, and now walked angrily out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Well, you get it then," he said grimly, though in a modified tone of +voice.</p> + +<p>As usual, the table was one short that evening.</p> + +<p>The next morning he had cooled down considerably, and later the ticket +was duly secured, though it did not heal matters. He did not mind giving +his family a fair share of all that he earned, but he did not like to be +forced to provide against his will.</p> + +<p>"Did you know, mother," said Jessica another day, "the Spencers are +getting ready to go away?"</p> + +<p>"No. Where, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Europe," said Jessica. "I met Georgine yesterday and she told me. She +just put on more airs about it."</p> + +<p>"Did she say when?"</p> + +<p>"Monday, I think. They'll get a notice in the papers again—they always +do."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Mrs. Hurstwood consolingly, "we'll go one of these +days."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood moved his eyes over the paper slowly, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>"'We sail for Liverpool from New York,'" Jessica exclaimed, mocking her +acquaintance. "'Expect to spend most of the "summah" in France,'—vain +thing. As if it was anything to go to Europe."</p> + +<p>"It must be if you envy her so much," put in Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>It grated upon him to see the feeling his daughter displayed.<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't worry over them, my dear," said Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Did George get off?" asked Jessica of her mother another day, thus +revealing something that Hurstwood had heard nothing about.</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?" he asked, looking up. He had never before been kept +in ignorance concerning departures.</p> + +<p>"He was going to Wheaton," said Jessica, not noticing the slight put +upon her father.</p> + +<p>"What's out there?" he asked, secretly irritated and chagrined to think +that he should be made to pump for information in this manner.</p> + +<p>"A tennis match," said Jessica.</p> + +<p>"He didn't say anything to me," Hurstwood concluded, finding it +difficult to refrain from a bitter tone.</p> + +<p>"I guess he must have forgotten," exclaimed his wife blandly.</p> + +<p>In the past he had always commanded a certain amount of respect, which +was a compound of appreciation and awe. The familiarity which in part +still existed between himself and his daughter he had courted. As it +was, it did not go beyond the light assumption of words. The tone was +always modest. Whatever had been, however, had lacked affection, and now +he saw that he was losing track of their doings. His knowledge was no +longer intimate. He sometimes saw them at table, and sometimes did not. +He heard of their doings occasionally, more often not. Some days he +found that he was all at sea as to what they were talking about—things +they had arranged to do or that they had done in his absence. More +affecting was the feeling that there were little things going on of +which he no longer heard. Jessica was beginning to feel that her affairs +were her own. George, Jr., flourished about as if he were a man entirely +and must needs<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a> have private matters. All this Hurstwood could see, and +it left a trace of feeling, for he was used to being considered—in his +official position, at least—and felt that his importance should not +begin to wane here. To darken it all, he saw the same indifference and +independence growing in his wife, while he looked on and paid the bills.</p> + +<p>He consoled himself with the thought, however, that, after all, he was +not without affection. Things might go as they would at his house, but +he had Carrie outside of it. With his mind's eye he looked into her +comfortable room in Ogden Place, where he had spent several such +delightful evenings, and thought how charming it would be when Drouet +was disposed of entirely and she was waiting evenings in cosey little +quarters for him. That no cause would come up whereby Drouet would be +led to inform Carrie concerning his married state, he felt hopeful. +Things were going so smoothly that he believed they would not change. +Shortly now he would persuade Carrie and all would be satisfactory.</p> + +<p>The day after their theatre visit he began writing her regularly—a +letter every morning, and begging her to do as much for him. He was not +literary by any means, but experience of the world and his growing +affection gave him somewhat of a style. This he exercised at his office +desk with perfect deliberation. He purchased a box of delicately +coloured and scented writing paper in monogram, which he kept locked in +one of the drawers. His friends now wondered at the cleric and very +official-looking nature of his position. The five bartenders viewed with +respect the duties which could call a man to do so much desk-work and +penmanship.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood surprised himself with his fluency. By the natural law which +governs all effort, what he wrote reacted upon him. He began to feel +those subtleties which he<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a> could find words to express. With every +expression came increased conception. Those inmost breathings which +there found words took hold upon him. He thought Carrie worthy of all +the affection he could there express.</p> + +<p>Carrie was indeed worth loving if ever youth and grace are to command +that token of acknowledgment from life in their bloom. Experience had +not yet taken away that freshness of the spirit which is the charm of +the body. Her soft eyes contained in their liquid lustre no suggestion +of the knowledge of disappointment. She had been troubled in a way by +doubt and longing, but these had made no deeper impression than could be +traced in a certain open wistfulness of glance and speech. The mouth had +the expression at times, in talking and in repose, of one who might be +upon the verge of tears. It was not that grief was thus ever present. +The pronunciation of certain syllables gave to her lips this peculiarity +of formation—a formation as suggestive and moving as pathos itself.</p> + +<p>There was nothing bold in her manner. Life had not taught her +domination—superciliousness of grace, which is the lordly power of some +women. Her longing for consideration was not sufficiently powerful to +move her to demand it. Even now she lacked self-assurance, but there was +that in what she had already experienced which left her a little less +than timid. She wanted pleasure, she wanted position, and yet she was +confused as to what these things might be. Every hour the kaleidoscope +of human affairs threw a new lustre upon something, and therewith it +became for her the desired—the all. Another shift of the box, and some +other had become the beautiful, the perfect.</p> + +<p>On her spiritual side, also, she was rich in feeling, as such a nature +well might be. Sorrow in her was aroused by many a spectacle—an +uncritical upwelling of grief for<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> the weak and the helpless. She was +constantly pained by the sight of the white-faced, ragged men who +slopped desperately by her in a sort of wretched mental stupor. The +poorly clad girls who went blowing by her window evenings, hurrying home +from some of the shops of the West Side, she pitied from the depths of +her heart. She would stand and bite her lips as they passed, shaking her +little head and wondering. They had so little, she thought. It was so +sad to be ragged and poor. The hang of faded clothes pained her eyes.</p> + +<p>"And they have to work so hard!" was her only comment.</p> + +<p>On the street sometimes she would see men working—Irishmen with picks, +coal-heavers with great loads to shovel, Americans busy about some work +which was a mere matter of strength—and they touched her fancy. Toil, +now that she was free of it, seemed even a more desolate thing than when +she was part of it. She saw it through a mist of fancy—a pale, sombre +half-light, which was the essence of poetic feeling. Her old father, in +his flour-dusted miller's suit, sometimes returned to her in memory, +revived by a face in a window. A shoemaker pegging at his last, a +blastman seen through a narrow window in some basement where iron was +being melted, a bench-worker seen high aloft in some window, his coat +off, his sleeves rolled up; these took her back in fancy to the details +of the mill. She felt, though she seldom expressed them, sad thoughts +upon this score. Her sympathies were ever with that under-world of toil +from which she had so recently sprung, and which she best understood.</p> + +<p>Though Hurstwood did not know it, he was dealing with one whose feelings +were as tender and as delicate as this. He did not know, but it was this +in her, after all, which attracted him. He never attempted to analyse +the nature of his affection. It was sufficient that there was<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> +tenderness in her eye, weakness in her manner, good-nature and hope in +her thoughts. He drew near this lily, which had sucked its waxen beauty +and perfume from below a depth of waters which he had never penetrated, +and out of ooze and mould which he could not understand. He drew near +because it was waxen and fresh. It lightened his feelings for him. It +made the morning worth while.</p> + +<p>In a material way, she was considerably improved. Her awkwardness had +all but passed, leaving, if anything, a quaint residue which was as +pleasing as perfect grace. Her little shoes now fitted her smartly and +had high heels. She had learned much about laces and those little +neck-pieces which add so much to a woman's appearance. Her form had +filled out until it was admirably plump and well-rounded.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood wrote her one morning, asking her to meet him in Jefferson +Park, Monroe Street. He did not consider it policy to call any more, +even when Drouet was at home.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon he was in the pretty little park by one, and had +found a rustic bench beneath the green leaves of a lilac bush which +bordered one of the paths. It was at that season of the year when the +fulness of spring had not yet worn quite away. At a little pond near by +some cleanly dressed children were sailing white canvas boats. In the +shade of a green pagoda a bebuttoned officer of the law was resting, his +arms folded, his club at rest in his belt. An old gardener was upon the +lawn, with a pair of pruning shears, looking after some bushes. High +overhead was the clear blue sky of the new summer, and in the thickness +of the shiny green leaves of the trees hopped and twittered the busy +sparrows.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling much of the +same old annoyance. At his store he had idled, there being no need to +write. He had<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> come away to this place with the lightness of heart which +characterises those who put weariness behind. Now, in the shade of this +cool, green bush, he looked about him with the fancy of the lover. He +heard the carts go lumbering by upon the neighbouring streets, but they +were far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the surrounding +city was faint, the clang of an occasional bell was as music. He looked +and dreamed a new dream of pleasure which concerned his present fixed +condition not at all. He got back in fancy to the old Hurstwood, who was +neither married nor fixed in a solid position for life. He remembered +the light spirit in which he once looked after the girls—how he had +danced, escorted them home, hung over their gates. He almost wished he +was back there again—here in this pleasant scene he felt as if he were +wholly free.</p> + +<p>At two Carrie came tripping along the walk toward him, rosy and clean. +She had just recently donned a sailor hat for the season with a band of +pretty white-dotted blue silk. Her skirt was of a rich blue material, +and her shirt waist matched it, with a thin stripe of blue upon a +snow-white ground—stripes that were as fine as hairs. Her brown shoes +peeped occasionally from beneath her skirt. She carried her gloves in +her hand.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood looked up at her with delight.</p> + +<p>"You came, dearest," he said eagerly, standing to meet her and taking +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said, smiling; "did you think I wouldn't?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," he replied.</p> + +<p>He looked at her forehead, which was moist from her brisk walk. Then he +took out one of his own soft, scented silk handkerchiefs and touched her +face here and there.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said affectionately, "you're all right."<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a></p> + +<p>They were happy in being near one another—in looking into each other's +eyes. Finally, when the long flush of delight had subsided, he said:</p> + +<p>"When is Charlie going away again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered. "He says he has some things to do for the +house here now."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood grew serious, and he lapsed into quiet thought. He looked up +after a time to say:</p> + +<p>"Come away and leave him."</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes to the boys with the boats, as if the request were of +little importance.</p> + +<p>"Where would we go?" she asked in much the same manner, rolling her +gloves, and looking into a neighbouring tree.</p> + +<p>"Where do you want to go?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>There was something in the tone in which he said this which made her +feel as if she must record her feelings against any local habitation.</p> + +<p>"We can't stay in Chicago," she replied.</p> + +<p>He had no thought that this was in her mind—that any removal would be +suggested.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, because," she said, "I wouldn't want to."</p> + +<p>He listened to this with but dull perception of what it meant. It had no +serious ring to it. The question was not up for immediate decision.</p> + +<p>"I would have to give up my position," he said.</p> + +<p>The tone he used made it seem as if the matter deserved only slight +consideration. Carrie thought a little, the while enjoying the pretty +scene.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't like to live in Chicago and him here," she said, thinking of +Drouet.</p> + +<p>"It's a big town, dearest," Hurstwood answered. "It would be as good as +moving to another part of the country to move to the South Side."<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a></p> + +<p>He had fixed upon that region as an objective point.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," said Carrie, "I shouldn't want to get married as long as he is +here. I wouldn't want to run away."</p> + +<p>The suggestion of marriage struck Hurstwood forcibly. He saw clearly +that this was her idea—he felt that it was not to be gotten over +easily. Bigamy lightened the horizon of his shadowy thoughts for a +moment. He wondered for the life of him how it would all come out. He +could not see that he was making any progress save in her regard. When +he looked at her now, he thought her beautiful. What a thing it was to +have her love him, even if it be entangling! She increased in value in +his eyes because of her objection. She was something to struggle for, +and that was everything. How different from the women who yielded +willingly! He swept the thought of them from his mind.</p> + +<p>"And you don't know when he'll go away?" asked Hurstwood, quietly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"You're a determined little miss, aren't you?" he said, after a few +moments, looking up into her eyes.</p> + +<p>She felt a wave of feeling sweep over her at this. It was pride at what +seemed his admiration—affection for the man who could feel this +concerning her.</p> + +<p>"No," she said coyly, "but what can I do?"</p> + +<p>Again he folded his hands and looked away over the lawn into the street.</p> + +<p>"I wish," he said pathetically, "you would come to me. I don't like to +be away from you this way. What good is there in waiting? You're not any +happier, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Happier!" she exclaimed softly, "you know better than that."</p> + +<p>"Here we are then," he went on in the same tone,<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> "wasting our days. If +you are not happy, do you think I am? I sit and write to you the biggest +part of the time. I'll tell you what, Carrie," he exclaimed, throwing +sudden force of expression into his voice and fixing her with his eyes, +"I can't live without you, and that's all there is to it. Now," he +concluded, showing the palm of one of his white hands in a sort of +at-an-end, helpless expression, "what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>This shifting of the burden to her appealed to Carrie. The semblance of +the load without the weight touched the woman's heart.</p> + +<p>"Can't you wait a little while yet?" she said tenderly. "I'll try and +find out when he's going."</p> + +<p>"What good will it do?" he asked, holding the same strain of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps we can arrange to go somewhere."</p> + +<p>She really did not see anything clearer than before, but she was getting +into that frame of mind where, out of sympathy, a woman yields.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood did not understand. He was wondering how she was to be +persuaded—what appeal would move her to forsake Drouet. He began to +wonder how far her affection for him would carry her. He was thinking of +some question which would make her tell.</p> + +<p>Finally he hit upon one of those problematical propositions which often +disguise our own desires while leading us to an understanding of the +difficulties which others make for us, and so discover for us a way. It +had not the slightest connection with anything intended on his part, and +was spoken at random before he had given it a moment's serious thought.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," he said, looking into her face and assuming a serious look +which he did not feel, "suppose I were to come to you next week; or this +week for that matter—to-night say—and tell you I had to go away—that +I couldn't<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> stay another minute and wasn't coming back any more—would +you come with me?"</p> + +<p>His sweetheart viewed him with the most affectionate glance, her answer +ready before the words were out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't stop to argue or arrange?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you couldn't wait."</p> + +<p>He smiled when he saw that she took him seriously, and he thought what a +chance it would afford for a possible junket of a week or two. He had a +notion to tell her that he was joking and so brush away her sweet +seriousness, but the effect of it was too delightful. He let it stand.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we didn't have time to get married here?" he added, an +afterthought striking him.</p> + +<p>"If we got married as soon as we got to the other end of the journey it +would be all right."</p> + +<p>"I meant that," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The morning seemed peculiarly bright to him now. He wondered whatever +could have put such a thought into his head. Impossible as it was, he +could not help smiling at its cleverness. It showed how she loved him. +There was no doubt in his mind now, and he would find a way to win her.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, jokingly, "I'll come and get you one of these +evenings," and then he laughed.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't stay with you, though, if you didn't marry me," Carrie added +reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to," he said tenderly, taking her hand.</p> + +<p>She was extremely happy now that she understood. She loved him the more +for thinking that he would rescue her so. As for him, the marriage +clause did not dwell in<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> his mind. He was thinking that with such +affection there could be no bar to his eventual happiness.</p> + +<p>"Let's stroll about," he said gayly, rising and surveying all the lovely +park.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>They passed the young Irishman, who looked after them with envious eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tis a foine couple," he observed to himself. "They must be rich."<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><br /> +<small>A WITLESS ALADDIN: THE GATE TO THE WORLD</small></h2> + +<p>In the course of his present stay in Chicago, Drouet paid some slight +attention to the secret order to which he belonged. During his last trip +he had received a new light on its importance.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," said another drummer to him, "it's a great thing. Look at +Hazenstab. He isn't so deuced clever. Of course he's got a good house +behind him, but that won't do alone. I tell you it's his degree. He's a +way-up Mason, and that goes a long way. He's got a secret sign that +stands for something."</p> + +<p>Drouet resolved then and there that he would take more interest in such +matters. So when he got back to Chicago he repaired to his local lodge +headquarters.</p> + +<p>"I say, Drouet," said Mr. Harry Quincel, an individual who was very +prominent in this local branch of the Elks, "you're the man that can +help us out."</p> + +<p>It was after the business meeting and things were going socially with a +hum. Drouet was bobbing around chatting and joking with a score of +individuals whom he knew.</p> + +<p>"What are you up to?" he inquired genially, turning a smiling face upon +his secret brother.</p> + +<p>"We're trying to get up some theatricals for two weeks from to-day, and +we want to know if you don't know some young lady who could take a +part—it's an easy part."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Drouet, "what is it?" He did not trouble to remember that +he knew no one to whom he could<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> appeal on this score. His innate +good-nature, however, dictated a favourable reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I'll tell you what we are trying to do," went on Mr. +Quincel. "We are trying to get a new set of furniture for the lodge. +There isn't enough money in the treasury at the present time, and we +thought we would raise it by a little entertainment."</p> + +<p>"Sure," interrupted Drouet, "that's a good idea."</p> + +<p>"Several of the boys around here have got talent. There's Harry Burbeck, +he does a fine black-face turn. Mac Lewis is all right at heavy +dramatics. Did you ever hear him recite 'Over the Hills'?"</p> + +<p>"Never did."</p> + +<p>"Well, I tell you, he does it fine."</p> + +<p>"And you want me to get some woman to take a part?" questioned Drouet, +anxious to terminate the subject and get on to something else. "What are +you going to play?"</p> + +<p>"'Under the Gaslight,'" said Mr. Quincel, mentioning Augustin Daly's +famous production, which had worn from a great public success down to an +amateur theatrical favourite, with many of the troublesome accessories +cut out and the <i>dramatis personæ</i> reduced to the smallest possible +number.</p> + +<p>Drouet had seen this play some time in the past.</p> + +<p>"That's it," he said; "that's a fine play. It will go all right. You +ought to make a lot of money out of that."</p> + +<p>"We think we'll do very well," Mr. Quincel replied. "Don't you forget +now," he concluded, Drouet showing signs of restlessness; "some young +woman to take the part of Laura."</p> + +<p>"Sure, I'll attend to it."</p> + +<p>He moved away, forgetting almost all about it the moment Mr. Quincel had +ceased talking. He had not even thought to ask the time or place.<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a></p> + +<p>Drouet was reminded of his promise a day or two later by the receipt of +a letter announcing that the first rehearsal was set for the following +Friday evening, and urging him to kindly forward the young lady's +address at once, in order that the part might be delivered to her.</p> + +<p>"Now, who the deuce do I know?" asked the drummer reflectively, +scratching his rosy ear. "I don't know any one that knows anything about +amateur theatricals."</p> + +<p>He went over in memory the names of a number of women he knew, and +finally fixed on one, largely because of the convenient location of her +home on the West Side, and promised himself that as he came out that +evening he would see her. When, however, he started west on the car he +forgot, and was only reminded of his delinquency by an item in the +"Evening News"—a small three-line affair under the head of Secret +Society Notes—which stated the Custer Lodge of the Order of Elks would +give a theatrical performance in Avery Hall on the 16th, when "Under the +Gaslight" would be produced.</p> + +<p>"George!" exclaimed Drouet, "I forgot that."</p> + +<p>"What?" inquired Carrie.</p> + +<p>They were at their little table in the room which might have been used +for a kitchen, where Carrie occasionally served a meal. To-night the +fancy had caught her, and the little table was spread with a pleasing +repast.</p> + +<p>"Why, my lodge entertainment. They're going to give a play, and they +wanted me to get them some young lady to take a part."</p> + +<p>"What is it they're going to play?"</p> + +<p>"'Under the Gaslight.'"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"On the 16th."</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I don't know any one," he replied.<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a></p> + +<p>Suddenly he looked up.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, "how would you like to take the part?"</p> + +<p>"Me?" said Carrie. "I can't act."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" questioned Drouet reflectively.</p> + +<p>"Because," answered Carrie, "I never did."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, she was pleased to think he would ask. Her eyes +brightened, for if there was anything that enlisted her sympathies it +was the art of the stage.</p> + +<p>True to his nature, Drouet clung to this idea as an easy way out.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing. You can act all you have to down there."</p> + +<p>"No, I can't," said Carrie weakly, very much drawn toward the +proposition and yet fearful.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can. Now, why don't you do it? They need some one, and it will +be lots of fun for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, it won't," said Carrie seriously.</p> + +<p>"You'd like that. I know you would. I've seen you dancing around here +and giving imitations and that's why I asked you. You're clever enough, +all right."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not," said Carrie shyly.</p> + +<p>"Now, I'll tell you what you do. You go down and see about it. It'll be +fun for you. The rest of the company isn't going to be any good. They +haven't any experience. What do they know about theatricals?"</p> + +<p>He frowned as he thought of their ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Hand me the coffee," he added.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I could act, Charlie," Carrie went on pettishly. "You +don't think I could, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Out o' sight. I bet you make a hit. Now you want to go, I know +you do. I knew it when I came home. That's why I asked you."</p> + +<p>"What is the play, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"'Under the Gaslight.'"</p> + +<p>"What part would they want me to take?"<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, one of the heroines—I don't know."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a play is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Drouet, whose memory for such things was not the best, +"it's about a girl who gets kidnapped by a couple of crooks—a man and a +woman that live in the slums. She had some money or something and they +wanted to get it. I don't know now how it did go exactly."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know what part I would have to take?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, to tell the truth." He thought a moment. "Yes, I do, too. +Laura, that's the thing—you're to be Laura."</p> + +<p>"And you can't remember what the part is like?"</p> + +<p>"To save me, Cad, I can't," he answered. "I ought to, too; I've seen the +play enough. There's a girl in it that was stolen when she was an +infant—was picked off the street or something—and she's the one that's +hounded by the two old criminals I was telling you about." He stopped +with a mouthful of pie poised on a fork before his face. "She comes very +near getting drowned—no, that's not it. I'll tell you what I'll do," he +concluded hopelessly, "I'll get you the book. I can't remember now for +the life of me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," said Carrie, when he had concluded, her interest +and desire to shine dramatically struggling with her timidity for the +mastery. "I might go if you thought I'd do all right."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you'll do," said Drouet, who, in his efforts to enthuse +Carrie, had interested himself. "Do you think I'd come home here and +urge you to do something that I didn't think you would make a success +of? You can act all right. It'll be good for you."</p> + +<p>"When must I go?" said Carrie, reflectively.</p> + +<p>"The first rehearsal is Friday night. I'll get the part for you +to-night."<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a></p> + +<p>"All right," said Carrie resignedly, "I'll do it, but if I make a +failure now it's your fault."</p> + +<p>"You won't fail," assured Drouet. "Just act as you do around here. Be +natural. You're all right. I've often thought you'd make a corking good +actress."</p> + +<p>"Did you really?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the drummer.</p> + +<p>He little knew as he went out of the door that night what a secret flame +he had kindled in the bosom of the girl he left behind. Carrie was +possessed of that sympathetic, impressionable nature which, ever in the +most developed form, has been the glory of the drama. She was created +with that passivity of soul which is always the mirror of the active +world. She possessed an innate taste for imitation and no small ability. +Even without practice, she could sometimes restore dramatic situations +she had witnessed by re-creating, before her mirror, the expressions of +the various faces taking part in the scene. She loved to modulate her +voice after the conventional manner of the distressed heroine, and +repeat such pathetic fragments as appealed most to her sympathies. Of +late, seeing the airy grace of the <i>ingenue</i> in several well-constructed +plays, she had been moved to secretly imitate it, and many were the +little movements and expressions of the body in which she indulged from +time to time in the privacy of her chamber. On several occasions, when +Drouet had caught her admiring herself, as he imagined, in the mirror, +she was doing nothing more than recalling some little grace of the mouth +or the eyes which she had witnessed in another. Under his airy +accusation she mistook this for vanity and accepted the blame with a +faint sense of error, though, as a matter of fact, it was nothing more +than the first subtle outcroppings of an artistic nature, endeavouring +to re-create the perfect likeness of some phase of beauty which appealed +to her. In such<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> feeble tendencies, be it known, such outworking of +desire to reproduce life, lies the basis of all dramatic art.</p> + +<p>Now, when Carrie heard Drouet's laudatory opinion of her dramatic +ability, her body tingled with satisfaction. Like the flame which welds +the loosened particles into a solid mass, his words united those +floating wisps of feeling which she had felt, but never believed, +concerning her possible ability, and made them into a gaudy shred of +hope. Like all human beings, she had a touch of vanity. She felt that +she could do things if she only had a chance. How often had she looked +at the well-dressed actresses on the stage and wondered how she would +look, how delightful she would feel if only she were in their place. The +glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause, these had +lured her until she felt that she, too, could act—that she, too, could +compel acknowledgment of power. Now she was told that she really +could—that little things she had done about the house had made even him +feel her power. It was a delightful sensation while it lasted.</p> + +<p>When Drouet was gone, she sat down in her rocking-chair by the window to +think about it. As usual, imagination exaggerated the possibilities for +her. It was as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had +exercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars. She saw herself in a score +of pathetic situations in which she assumed a tremulous voice and +suffering manner. Her mind delighted itself with scenes of luxury and +refinement, situations in which she was the cynosure of all eyes, the +arbiter of all fates. As she rocked to and fro she felt the tensity of +woe in abandonment, the magnificence of wrath after deception, the +languour of sorrow after defeat. Thoughts of all the charming women she +had seen in plays—every fancy, every illusion which she had concerning +the stage—now came back as a returning tide after the ebb. She built<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> +up feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant.</p> + +<p>Drouet dropped in at the lodge when he went down town, and swashed +around with a great <i>air</i>, as Quincel met him.</p> + +<p>"Where is that young lady you were going to get for us?" asked the +latter.</p> + +<p>"I've got her," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Have you?" said Quincel, rather surprised by his promptness; "that's +good. What's her address?" and he pulled out his note-book in order to +be able to send her part to her.</p> + +<p>"You want to send her her part?" asked the drummer.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll take it. I'm going right by her house in the morning."</p> + +<p>"What did you say her address was? We only want it in case we have any +information to send her."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine Ogden Place."</p> + +<p>"And her name?"</p> + +<p>"Carrie Madenda," said the drummer, firing at random. The lodge members +knew him to be single.</p> + +<p>"That sounds like somebody that can act, doesn't it?" said Quincel.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does."</p> + +<p>He took the part home to Carrie and handed it to her with the manner of +one who does a favour.</p> + +<p>"He says that's the best part. Do you think you can do it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know until I look it over. You know I'm afraid, now that I've +said I would."</p> + +<p>"Oh, go on. What have you got to be afraid of? It's a cheap company. The +rest of them aren't as good as you are."<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, I'll see," said Carrie, pleased to have the part, for all her +misgivings.</p> + +<p>He sidled around, dressing and fidgeting before he arranged to make his +next remark.</p> + +<p>"They were getting ready to print the programmes," he said, "and I gave +them the name of Carrie Madenda. Was that all right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess so," said his companion, looking up at him. She was +thinking it was slightly strange.</p> + +<p>"If you didn't make a hit, you know," he went on.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she answered, rather pleased now with his caution. It was +clever for Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to introduce you as my wife, because you'd feel worse +then if you didn't <i>go</i>. They all know me so well. But you'll <i>go</i> all +right. Anyhow, you'll probably never meet any of them again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care," said Carrie desperately. She was determined now to +have a try at the fascinating game.</p> + +<p>Drouet breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid that he was about +to precipitate another conversation upon the marriage question.</p> + +<p>The part of Laura, as Carrie found out when she began to examine it, was +one of suffering and tears. As delineated by Mr. Daly, it was true to +the most sacred traditions of melodrama as he found it when he began his +career. The sorrowful demeanour, the tremolo music, the long, +explanatory, cumulative addresses, all were there.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow," read Carrie, consulting the text and drawing her voice +out pathetically. "Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before +he goes."</p> + +<p>She was surprised at the briefness of the entire part, not knowing that +she must be on the stage while others were talking, and not only be +there, but also keep herself in harmony with the dramatic movement of +the scenes.<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p> + +<p>"I think I can do that, though," she concluded.</p> + +<p>When Drouet came the next night, she was very much satisfied with her +day's study.</p> + +<p>"Well, how goes it, Caddie?" he said.</p> + +<p>"All right," she laughed. "I think I have it memorised nearly."</p> + +<p>"That's good," he said. "Let's hear some of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know whether I can get up and say it off here," she said +bashfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know why you shouldn't. It'll be easier here than it will +there."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," she answered.</p> + +<p>Eventually she took off the ball-room episode with considerable feeling, +forgetting, as she got deeper in the scene, all about Drouet, and +letting herself rise to a fine state of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Good," said Drouet; "fine; out o' sight! You're all right, Caddie, I +tell you."</p> + +<p>He was really moved by her excellent representation and the general +appearance of the pathetic little figure as it swayed and finally +fainted to the floor. He had bounded up to catch her, and now held her +laughing in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Ain't you afraid you'll hurt yourself?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're a wonder. Say, I never knew you could do anything like +that."</p> + +<p>"I never did, either," said Carrie merrily, her face flushed with +delight.</p> + +<p>"Well, you can bet that you're all right," said Drouet. "You can take my +word for that. You won't fail."<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><br /> +<small>A GLIMPSE THROUGH THE GATEWAY: HOPE LIGHTENS THE EYE</small></h2> + +<p>The, to Carrie, very important theatrical performance was to take place +at the Avery on conditions which were to make it more noteworthy than +was at first anticipated. The little dramatic student had written to +Hurstwood the very morning her part was brought her that she was going +to take part in a play.</p> + +<p>"I really am," she wrote, feeling that he might take it as a jest; "I +have my part now, honest, truly."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what it is going to be? I must see that."</p> + +<p>He answered at once, making a pleasant reference to her ability. "I +haven't the slightest doubt you will make a success. You must come to +the park to-morrow morning and tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>Carrie gladly complied, and revealed all the details of the undertaking +as she understood it.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "that's fine. I'm glad to hear it. Of course, you will +do well, you're so clever."</p> + +<p>He had truly never seen so much spirit in the girl before. Her tendency +to discover a touch of sadness had for the nonce disappeared. As she +spoke her eyes were bright, her cheeks red. She radiated much of the +pleasure which her undertakings gave her. For all her misgivings—and +they were as plentiful as the moments of the day—she was still happy. +She could not repress her delight in<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a> doing this little thing which, to +an ordinary observer, had no importance at all.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was charmed by the development of the fact that the girl had +capabilities. There is nothing so inspiring in life as the sight of a +legitimate ambition, no matter how incipient. It gives colour, force, +and beauty to the possessor.</p> + +<p>Carrie was now lightened by a touch of this divine afflatus. She drew to +herself commendation from her two admirers which she had not earned. +Their affection for her naturally heightened their perception of what +she was trying to do and their approval of what she did. Her +inexperience conserved her own exuberant fancy, which ran riot with +every straw of opportunity, making of it a golden divining rod whereby +the treasure of life was to be discovered.</p> + +<p>"Let's see," said Hurstwood, "I ought to know some of the boys in the +lodge. I'm an Elk myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't let him know I told you."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said the manager.</p> + +<p>"I'd like for you to be there, if you want to come, but I don't see how +you can unless he asks you."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there," said Hurstwood affectionately. "I can fix it so he +won't know you told me. You leave it to me."</p> + +<p>This interest of the manager was a large thing in itself for the +performance, for his standing among the Elks was something worth talking +about. Already he was thinking of a box with some friends, and flowers +for Carrie. He would make it a dress-suit affair and give the little +girl a chance.</p> + +<p>Within a day or two, Drouet dropped into the Adams Street resort, and he +was at once spied by Hurstwood. It was at five in the afternoon and the +place was crowded with merchants, actors, managers, politicians, a +goodly<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a> company of rotund, rosy figures, silk-hatted, starchy-bosomed, +beringed and bescarfpinned to the queen's taste. John L. Sullivan, the +pugilist, was at one end of the glittering bar, surrounded by a company +of loudly dressed sports, who were holding a most animated conversation. +Drouet came across the floor with a festive stride, a new pair of tan +shoes squeaking audibly at his progress.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Hurstwood, "I was wondering what had become of you. I +thought you had gone out of town again."</p> + +<p>Drouet laughed.</p> + +<p>"If you don't report more regularly we'll have to cut you off the list."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't help it," said the drummer, "I've been busy."</p> + +<p>They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shifting company of +notables. The dressy manager was shaken by the hand three times in as +many minutes.</p> + +<p>"I hear your lodge is going to give a performance," observed Hurstwood, +in the most offhand manner.</p> + +<p>"Yes, who told you?"</p> + +<p>"No one," said Hurstwood. "They just sent me a couple of tickets, which +I can have for two dollars. Is it going to be any good?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied the drummer. "They've been trying to get me to +get some woman to take a part."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't intending to go," said the manager easily. "I'll subscribe, of +course. How are things over there?"</p> + +<p>"All right. They're going to fit things up out of the proceeds."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the manager, "I hope they make a success of it. Have +another?"</p> + +<p>He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should appear on the scene +with a few friends, he could say that<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> he had been urged to come along. +Drouet had a desire to wipe out the possibility of confusion.</p> + +<p>"I think the girl is going to take a part in it," he said abruptly, +after thinking it over.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! How did that happen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they were short and wanted me to find them some one. I told +Carrie, and she seems to want to try."</p> + +<p>"Good for her," said the manager. "It'll be a real nice affair. Do her +good, too. Has she ever had any experience?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it isn't anything very serious."</p> + +<p>"She's clever, though," said Drouet, casting off any imputation against +Carrie's ability. "She picks up her part quick enough."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" said the manager.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; she surprised me the other night. By George, if she didn't."</p> + +<p>"We must give her a nice little send-off," said the manager. "I'll look +after the flowers."</p> + +<p>Drouet smiled at his good-nature.</p> + +<p>"After the show you must come with me and we'll have a little supper."</p> + +<p>"I think she'll do all right," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"I want to see her. She's got to do all right. We'll make her," and the +manager gave one of his quick, steely half-smiles, which was a compound +of good-nature and shrewdness.</p> + +<p>Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this performance Mr. +Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, a young man who had some +qualifications of past experience, which were not exactly understood by +any one. He was so experienced and so business-like, however, that he +came very near being rude—failing to remember, as<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a> he did, that the +individuals he was trying to instruct were volunteer players and not +salaried underlings.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Madenda," he said, addressing Carrie, who stood in one part +uncertain as to what move to make, "you don't want to stand like that. +Put expression in your face. Remember, you are troubled over the +intrusion of the stranger. Walk so," and he struck out across the Avery +stage in a most drooping manner.</p> + +<p>Carrie did not exactly fancy the suggestion, but the novelty of the +situation, the presence of strangers, all more or less nervous, and the +desire to do anything rather than make a failure, made her timid. She +walked in imitation of her mentor as requested, inwardly feeling that +there was something strangely lacking.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Morgan," said the director to one young married woman who was +to take the part of Pearl, "you sit here. Now, Mr. Bamberger, you stand +here, so. Now, what is it you say?"</p> + +<p>"Explain," said Mr. Bamberger feebly. He had the part of Ray, Laura's +lover, the society individual who was to waver in his thoughts of +marrying her, upon finding that she was a waif and a nobody by birth.</p> + +<p>"How is that—what does your text say?"</p> + +<p>"Explain," repeated Mr. Bamberger, looking intently at his part.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it also says," the director remarked, "that you are to look +shocked. Now, say it again, and see if you can't look shocked."</p> + +<p>"Explain!" demanded Mr. Bamberger vigorously.</p> + +<p>"No, no, that won't do! Say it this way—<i>explain</i>."</p> + +<p>"Explain," said Mr. Bamberger, giving a modified imitation.</p> + +<p>"That's better. Now go on."</p> + +<p>"One night," resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose lines came next, "father and +mother were going to the opera.<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> When they were crossing Broadway, the +usual crowd of children accosted them for alms——"</p> + +<p>"Hold on," said the director, rushing forward, his arm extended. "Put +more feeling into what you are saying."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morgan looked at him as if she feared a personal assault. Her eye +lightened with resentment.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Mrs. Morgan," he added, ignoring the gleam, but modifying his +manner, "that you're detailing a pathetic story. You are now supposed to +be telling something that is a grief to you. It requires feeling, +repression, thus: 'The usual crowd of children accosted them for alms.'"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Mrs. Morgan.</p> + +<p>"Now, go on."</p> + +<p>"As mother felt in her pocket for some change, her fingers touched a +cold and trembling hand which had clutched her purse."</p> + +<p>"Very good," interrupted the director, nodding his head significantly.</p> + +<p>"A pickpocket! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger, speaking the lines that +here fell to him.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Mr. Bamberger," said the director, approaching, "not that way. +'A pickpocket—well?' so. That's the idea."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think," said Carrie weakly, noticing that it had not been +proved yet whether the members of the company knew their lines, let +alone the details of expression, "that it would be better if we just +went through our lines once to see if we know them? We might pick up +some points."</p> + +<p>"A very good idea, Miss Madenda," said Mr. Quincel, who sat at the side +of the stage, looking serenely on and volunteering opinions which the +director did not heed.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the latter, somewhat abashed, "it<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> might be well to do +it." Then brightening, with a show of authority, "Suppose we run right +through, putting in as much expression as we can."</p> + +<p>"Good," said Mr. Quincel.</p> + +<p>"This hand," resumed Mrs. Morgan, glancing up at Mr. Bamberger and down +at her book, as the lines proceeded, "my mother grasped in her own, and +so tight that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. +Mother looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl."</p> + +<p>"Very good," observed the director, now hopelessly idle.</p> + +<p>"The thief!" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger.</p> + +<p>"Louder," put in the director, finding it almost impossible to keep his +hands off.</p> + +<p>"The thief!" roared poor Bamberger.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an angel's. +'Stop,' said my mother. 'What are you doing?'</p> + +<p>"'Trying to steal,' said the child.</p> + +<p>"'Don't you know that it is wicked to do so?' asked my father.</p> + +<p>"'No,' said the girl, 'but it is dreadful to be hungry.'</p> + +<p>"'Who told you to steal?' asked my mother.</p> + +<p>"'She—there,' said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a doorway +opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. 'That is old Judas,' said +the girl."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morgan read this rather flatly, and the director was in despair. He +fidgeted around, and then went over to Mr. Quincel.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of them?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess we'll be able to whip them into shape," said the latter, +with an air of strength under difficulties.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the director. "That fellow Bamberger<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> strikes me as +being a pretty poor shift for a lover."</p> + +<p>"He's all we've got," said Quincel, rolling up his eyes. "Harrison went +back on me at the last minute. Who else can we get?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the director. "I'm afraid he'll never pick up."</p> + +<p>At this moment Bamberger was exclaiming, "Pearl, you are joking with +me."</p> + +<p>"Look at that now," said the director, whispering behind his hand. "My +Lord! what can you do with a man who drawls out a sentence like that?"</p> + +<p>"Do the best you can," said Quincel consolingly.</p> + +<p>The rendition ran on in this wise until it came to where Carrie, as +Laura, comes into the room to explain to Ray, who, after hearing Pearl's +statement about her birth, had written the letter repudiating her, +which, however, he did not deliver. Bamberger was just concluding the +words of Ray, "I must go before she returns. Her step! Too late," and +was cramming the letter in his pocket, when she began sweetly with:</p> + +<p>"Ray!"</p> + +<p>"Miss—Miss Courtland," Bamberger faltered weakly.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him a moment and forgot all about the company present. +She began to feel the part, and summoned an indifferent smile to her +lips, turning as the lines directed and going to a window, as if he were +not present. She did it with a grace which was fascinating to look upon.</p> + +<p>"Who is that woman?" asked the director, watching Carrie in her little +scene with Bamberger.</p> + +<p>"Miss Madenda," said Quincel.</p> + +<p>"I know her name," said the director, "but what does she do?"<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a></p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Quincel. "She's a friend of one of our members."</p> + +<p>"Well, she's got more gumption than any one I've seen here so far—seems +to take an interest in what she's doing."</p> + +<p>"Pretty, too, isn't she?" said Quincel.</p> + +<p>The director strolled away without answering.</p> + +<p>In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the company in the +ball-room, she did even better, winning the smile of the director, who +volunteered, because of her fascination for him, to come over and speak +with her.</p> + +<p>"Were you ever on the stage?" he asked insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You do so well, I thought you might have had some experience."</p> + +<p>Carrie only smiled consciously.</p> + +<p>He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was feebly spouting some +ardent line.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at Carrie with envious +and snapping black eyes.</p> + +<p>"She's some cheap professional," she gave herself the satisfaction of +thinking, and scorned and hated her accordingly.</p> + +<p>The rehearsal ended for one day, and Carrie went home feeling that she +had acquitted herself satisfactorily. The words of the director were +ringing in her ears, and she longed for an opportunity to tell +Hurstwood. She wanted him to know just how well she was doing. Drouet, +too, was an object for her confidences. She could hardly wait until he +should ask her, and yet she did not have the vanity to bring it up. The +drummer, however, had another line of thought to-night, and her little +experience did not appeal to him as important. He let the conversation +drop, save for what she chose to recite without solicitation, and Carrie +was not good at that. He took it for granted that<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> she was doing very +well and he was relieved of further worry. Consequently he threw Carrie +into repression, which was irritating. She felt his indifference keenly +and longed to see Hurstwood. It was as if he were now the only friend +she had on earth. The next morning Drouet was interested again, but the +damage had been done.</p> + +<p>She got a pretty letter from the manager, saying that by the time she +got it he would be waiting for her in the park. When she came, he shone +upon her as the morning sun.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," he asked, "how did you come out?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough," she said, still somewhat reduced after Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Now, tell me just what you did. Was it pleasant?"</p> + +<p>Carrie related the incidents of the rehearsal, warming up as she +proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's delightful," said Hurstwood. "I'm so glad. I must get over +there to see you. When is the next rehearsal?"</p> + +<p>"Tuesday," said Carrie, "but they don't allow visitors."</p> + +<p>"I imagine I could get in," said Hurstwood significantly.</p> + +<p>She was completely restored and delighted by his consideration, but she +made him promise not to come around.</p> + +<p>"Now, you must do your best to please me," he said encouragingly. "Just +remember that I want you to succeed. We will make the performance worth +while. You do that now."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Carrie, brimming with affection and enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"That's the girl," said Hurstwood fondly. "Now, remember," shaking an +affectionate finger at her, "your best."</p> + +<p>"I will," she answered, looking back.<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a></p> + +<p>The whole earth was brimming sunshine that morning. She tripped along, +the clear sky pouring liquid blue into her soul. Oh, blessed are the +children of endeavour in this, that they try and are hopeful. And +blessed also are they who, knowing, smile and approve.<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><br /> +<small>JUST OVER THE BORDER: A HAIL AND FAREWELL</small></h2> + +<p>By the evening of the 16th the subtle hand of Hurstwood had made itself +apparent. He had given the word among his friends—and they were many +and influential—that here was something which they ought to attend, +and, as a consequence, the sale of tickets by Mr. Quincel, acting for +the lodge, had been large. Small four-line notes had appeared in all of +the daily newspapers. These he had arranged for by the aid of one of his +newspaper friends on the "Times," Mr. Harry McGarren, the managing +editor.</p> + +<p>"Say, Harry," Hurstwood said to him one evening, as the latter stood at +the bar drinking before wending his belated way homeward, "you can help +the boys out, I guess."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said McGarren, pleased to be consulted by the opulent +manager.</p> + +<p>"The Custer Lodge is getting up a little entertainment for their own +good, and they'd like a little newspaper notice. You know what I mean—a +squib or two saying that it's going to take place."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said McGarren, "I can fix that for you, George."</p> + +<p>At the same time Hurstwood kept himself wholly in the background. The +members of Custer Lodge could scarcely understand why their little +affair was taking so well. Mr. Harry Quincel was looked upon as quite a +star for this sort of work.<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a></p> + +<p>By the time the 16th had arrived Hurstwood's friends had rallied like +Romans to a senator's call. A well-dressed, good-natured, +flatteringly-inclined audience was assured from the moment he thought of +assisting Carrie.</p> + +<p>That little student had mastered her part to her own satisfaction, much +as she trembled for her fate when she should once face the gathered +throng, behind the glare of the footlights. She tried to console herself +with the thought that a score of other persons, men and women, were +equally tremulous concerning the outcome of their efforts, but she could +not disassociate the general danger from her own individual liability. +She feared that she would forget her lines, that she might be unable to +master the feeling which she now felt concerning her own movements in +the play. At times she wished that she had never gone into the affair; +at others, she trembled lest she should be paralysed with fear and stand +white and gasping, not knowing what to say and spoiling the entire +performance.</p> + +<p>In the matter of the company, Mr. Bamberger had disappeared. That +hopeless example had fallen under the lance of the director's criticism. +Mrs. Morgan was still present, but envious and determined, if for +nothing more than spite, to do as well as Carrie at least. A loafing +professional had been called in to assume the rôle of Ray, and, while he +was a poor stick of his kind, he was not troubled by any of those qualms +which attack the spirit of those who have never faced an audience. He +swashed about (cautioned though he was to maintain silence concerning +his past theatrical relationships) in such a self-confident manner that +he was like to convince every one of his identity by mere matter of +circumstantial evidence.</p> + +<p>"It is so easy," he said to Mrs. Morgan, in the usual affected stage +voice. "An audience would be the last<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a> thing to trouble me. It's the +spirit of the part, you know, that is difficult."</p> + +<p>Carrie disliked his appearance, but she was too much the actress not to +swallow his qualities with complaisance, seeing that she must suffer his +fictitious love for the evening.</p> + +<p>At six she was ready to go. Theatrical paraphernalia had been provided +over and above her care. She had practised her make-up in the morning, +had rehearsed and arranged her material for the evening by one o'clock, +and had gone home to have a final look at her part, waiting for the +evening to come.</p> + +<p>On this occasion the lodge sent a carriage. Drouet rode with her as far +as the door, and then went about the neighbouring stores, looking for +some good cigars. The little actress marched nervously into her +dressing-room and began that painfully anticipated matter of make-up +which was to transform her, a simple maiden, to Laura, The Belle of +Society.</p> + +<p>The flare of the gas-jets, the open trunks, suggestive of travel and +display, the scattered contents of the make-up box—rouge, pearl powder, +whiting, burnt cork, India ink, pencils for the eyelids, wigs, scissors, +looking-glasses, drapery—in short, all the nameless paraphernalia of +disguise, have a remarkable atmosphere of their own. Since her arrival +in the city many things had influenced her, but always in a far-removed +manner. This new atmosphere was more friendly. It was wholly unlike the +great brilliant mansions which waved her coldly away, permitting her +only awe and distant wonder. This took her by the hand kindly, as one +who says, "My dear, come in." It opened for her as if for its own. She +had wondered at the greatness of the names upon the bill-boards, the +marvel of the long notices in the papers, the beauty of the dresses upon +the stage, the atmosphere of carriages,<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a> flowers, refinement. Here was +no illusion. Here was an open door to see all of that. She had come upon +it as one who stumbles upon a secret passage, and, behold, she was in +the chamber of diamonds and delight!</p> + +<p>As she dressed with a flutter, in her little stage room, hearing the +voices outside, seeing Mr. Quincel hurrying here and there, noting Mrs. +Morgan and Mrs. Hoagland at their nervous work of preparation, seeing +all the twenty members of the cast moving about and worrying over what +the result would be, she could not help thinking what a delight this +would be if it would endure; how perfect a state, if she could only do +well now, and then some time get a place as a real actress. The thought +had taken a mighty hold upon her. It hummed in her ears as the melody of +an old song.</p> + +<p>Outside in the little lobby another scene was being enacted. Without the +interest of Hurstwood, the little hall would probably have been +comfortably filled, for the members of the lodge were moderately +interested in its welfare. Hurstwood's word, however, had gone the +rounds. It was to be a full-dress affair. The four boxes had been taken. +Dr. Norman McNeill Hale and his wife were to occupy one. This was quite +a card. C. R. Walker, dry-goods merchant and possessor of at least two +hundred thousand dollars, had taken another; a well-known coal merchant +had been induced to take the third, and Hurstwood and his friends the +fourth. Among the latter was Drouet. The people who were now pouring +here were not celebrities, nor even local notabilities, in a general +sense. They were the lights of a certain circle—the circle of small +fortunes and secret order distinctions. These gentlemen Elks knew the +standing of one another. They had regard for the ability which could +amass a small fortune, own a nice home, keep a barouche or carriage, +perhaps, wear fine clothes, and maintain a good mercantile<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a> position. +Naturally, Hurstwood, who was a little above the order of mind which +accepted this standard as perfect, who had shrewdness and much +assumption of dignity, who held an imposing and authoritative position, +and commanded friendship by intuitive tact in handling people, was quite +a figure. He was more generally known than most others in the same +circle, and was looked upon as some one whose reserve covered a mine of +influence and solid financial prosperity.</p> + +<p>To-night he was in his element. He came with several friends directly +from Rector's in a carriage. In the lobby he met Drouet, who was just +returning from a trip for more cigars. All five now joined in an +animated conversation concerning the company present and the general +drift of lodge affairs.</p> + +<p>"Who's here?" said Hurstwood, passing into the theatre proper, where the +lights were turned up and a company of gentlemen were laughing and +talking in the open space back of the seats.</p> + +<p>"Why, how do you do, Mr. Hurstwood?" came from the first individual +recognised.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you," said the latter, grasping his hand lightly.</p> + +<p>"Looks quite an affair, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said the manager.</p> + +<p>"Custer seems to have the backing of its members," observed the friend.</p> + +<p>"So it should," said the knowing manager. "I'm glad to see it."</p> + +<p>"Well, George," said another rotund citizen, whose avoirdupois made +necessary an almost alarming display of starched shirt bosom, "how goes +it with you?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent," said the manager.</p> + +<p>"What brings you over here? You're not a member of Custer."<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a></p> + +<p>"Good-nature," returned the manager. "Like to see the boys, you know."</p> + +<p>"Wife here?"</p> + +<p>"She couldn't come to-night. She's not well."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to hear it—nothing serious, I hope."</p> + +<p>"No, just feeling a little ill."</p> + +<p>"I remember Mrs. Hurstwood when she was travelling once with you over to +St. Joe—" and here the newcomer launched off in a trivial recollection, +which was terminated by the arrival of more friends.</p> + +<p>"Why, George, how are you?" said another genial West Side politician and +lodge member. "My, but I'm glad to see you again; how are things, +anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Very well; I see you got that nomination for alderman."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we whipped them out over there without much trouble."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose Hennessy will do now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll go back to his brick business. He has a brick-yard, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that," said the manager. "Felt pretty sore, I suppose, +over his defeat."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said the other, winking shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Some of the more favoured of his friends whom he had invited began to +roll up in carriages now. They came shuffling in with a great show of +finery and much evident feeling of content and importance.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," said Hurstwood, turning to one from a group with whom he +was talking.</p> + +<p>"That's right," returned the newcomer, a gentleman of about forty-five.</p> + +<p>"And say," he whispered, jovially, pulling Hurstwood over by the +shoulder so that he might whisper in his ear, "if this isn't a good +show, I'll punch your head."<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a></p> + +<p>"You ought to pay for seeing your old friends. Bother the show!"</p> + +<p>To another who inquired, "Is it something really good?" the manager +replied:</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't suppose so." Then, lifting his hand graciously, +"For the lodge."</p> + +<p>"Lots of boys out, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, look up Shanahan. He was just asking for you a moment ago."</p> + +<p>It was thus that the little theatre resounded to a babble of successful +voices, the creak of fine clothes, the commonplace of good-nature, and +all largely because of this man's bidding. Look at him any time within +the half hour before the curtain was up, he was a member of an eminent +group—a rounded company of five or more whose stout figures, large +white bosoms, and shining pins bespoke the character of their success. +The gentlemen who brought their wives called him out to shake hands. +Seats clicked, ushers bowed while he looked blandly on. He was evidently +a light among them, reflecting in his personality the ambitions of those +who greeted him. He was acknowledged, fawned upon, in a way lionised. +Through it all one could see the standing of the man. It was greatness +in a way, small as it was.<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><br /> +<small>AN HOUR IN ELFLAND: A CLAMOUR HALF HEARD</small></h2> + +<p>At last the curtain was ready to go up. All the details of the make-up +had been completed, and the company settled down as the leader of the +small, hired orchestra tapped significantly upon his music rack with his +baton and began the soft curtain-raising strain. Hurstwood ceased +talking, and went with Drouet and his friend Sagar Morrison around to +the box.</p> + +<p>"Now, we'll see how the little girl does," he said to Drouet, in a tone +which no one else could hear.</p> + +<p>On the stage, six of the characters had already appeared in the opening +parlour scene. Drouet and Hurstwood saw at a glance that Carrie was not +among them, and went on talking in a whisper. Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. +Hoagland, and the actor who had taken Bamberger's part were representing +the principal rôles in this scene. The professional, whose name was +Patton, had little to recommend him outside of his assurance, but this +at the present moment was most palpably needed. Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, +was stiff with fright. Mrs. Hoagland was husky in the throat. The whole +company was so weak-kneed that the lines were merely spoken, and nothing +more. It took all the hope and uncritical good-nature of the audience to +keep from manifesting pity by that unrest which is the agony of failure.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was perfectly indifferent. He took it for granted that it +would be worthless. All he cared for was<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> to have it endurable enough to +allow for pretension and congratulation afterward.</p> + +<p>After the first rush of fright, however, the players got over the danger +of collapse. They rambled weakly forward, losing nearly all the +expression which was intended, and making the thing dull in the extreme, +when Carrie came in.</p> + +<p>One glance at her, and both Hurstwood and Drouet saw plainly that she +also was weak-kneed. She came faintly across the stage, saying:</p> + +<p>"And you, sir; we have been looking for you since eight o'clock," but +with so little colour and in such a feeble voice that it was positively +painful.</p> + +<p>"She's frightened," whispered Drouet to Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>The manager made no answer.</p> + +<p>She had a line presently which was supposed to be funny.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's as much as to say that I'm a sort of life pill."</p> + +<p>It came out so flat, however, that it was a deathly thing. Drouet +fidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least bit.</p> + +<p>There was another place in which Laura was to rise and, with a sense of +impending disaster, say, sadly:</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't said that, Pearl. You know the old proverb, 'Call a +maid by a married name.'"</p> + +<p>The lack of feeling in the thing was ridiculous. Carrie did not get it +at all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. It looked as if she were +certain to be a wretched failure. She was more hopeless than Mrs. +Morgan, who had recovered somewhat, and was now saying her lines clearly +at least. Drouet looked away from the stage at the audience. The latter +held out silently, hoping for a general change, of course. Hurstwood +fixed his eye on Carrie, as if to hypnotise her into doing better. He +was pouring determination<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a> of his own in her direction. He felt sorry +for her.</p> + +<p>In a few more minutes it fell to her to read the letter sent in by the +strange villain. The audience had been slightly diverted by a +conversation between the professional actor and a character called +Snorky, impersonated by a short little American, who really developed +some humour as a half-crazed, one-armed soldier, turned messenger for a +living. He bawled his lines out with such defiance that, while they +really did not partake of the humour intended, they were funny. Now he +was off, however, and it was back to pathos, with Carrie as the chief +figure. She did not recover. She wandered through the whole scene +between herself and the intruding villain, straining the patience of the +audience, and finally exiting, much to their relief.</p> + +<p>"She's too nervous," said Drouet, feeling in the mildness of the remark +that he was lying for once.</p> + +<p>"Better go back and say a word to her."</p> + +<p>Drouet was glad to do anything for relief. He fairly hustled around to +the side entrance, and was let in by the friendly doorkeeper. Carrie was +standing in the wings, weakly waiting her next cue, all the snap and +nerve gone out of her.</p> + +<p>"Say, Cad," he said, looking at her, "you mustn't be nervous. Wake up. +Those guys out there don't amount to anything. What are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie. "I just don't seem to be able to do it."</p> + +<p>She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. She had found the +company so nervous that her own strength had gone.</p> + +<p>"Come on," said Drouet. "Brace up. What are you afraid of? Go on out +there now, and do the trick. What do you care?"<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie revived a little under the drummer's electrical, nervous +condition.</p> + +<p>"Did I do so very bad?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. All you need is a little more ginger. Do it as you showed +me. Get that toss of your head you had the other night."</p> + +<p>Carrie remembered her triumph in the room. She tried to think she could +do it.</p> + +<p>"What's next?" he said, looking at her part, which she had been +studying.</p> + +<p>"Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse him."</p> + +<p>"Well, now you do that lively," said the drummer. "Put in snap, that's +the thing. Act as if you didn't care."</p> + +<p>"Your turn next, Miss Madenda," said the prompter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're a chump for being afraid," said Drouet. "Come on now, +brace up. I'll watch you from right here."</p> + +<p>"Will you?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, now go on. Don't be afraid."</p> + +<p>The prompter signalled her.</p> + +<p>She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve partially +returned. She thought of Drouet looking.</p> + +<p>"Ray," she said, gently, using a tone of voice much more calm than when +she had last appeared. It was the scene which had pleased the director +at the rehearsal.</p> + +<p>"She's easier," thought Hurstwood to himself.</p> + +<p>She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she was better. The +audience was at least not irritated. The improvement of the work of the +entire company took away direct observation from her. They were making +very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would be passable, +in the less trying parts at least.<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie came off warm and nervous.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, looking at him, "was it any better?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say so. That's the way. Put life into it. You did that +about a thousand per cent. better than you did the other scene. Now go +on and fire up. You can do it. Knock 'em."</p> + +<p>"Was it really better?"</p> + +<p>"Better, I should say so. What comes next?"</p> + +<p>"That ball-room scene."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can do that all right," he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Why, woman," he exclaimed, "you did it for me! Now you go out there and +do it. It'll be fun for you. Just do as you did in the room. If you'll +reel it off that way, I'll bet you make a hit. Now, what'll you bet? You +do it."</p> + +<p>The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature to get the better of +his speech. He really did think that Carrie had acted this particular +scene very well, and he wanted her to repeat it in public. His +enthusiasm was due to the mere spirit of the occasion.</p> + +<p>When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most effectually. He began to +make her feel as if she had done very well. The old melancholy of desire +began to come back as he talked at her, and by the time the situation +rolled around she was running high in feeling.</p> + +<p>"I think I can do this."</p> + +<p>"Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see."</p> + +<p>On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel insinuation against +Laura.</p> + +<p>Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something—she did not know +what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly.</p> + +<p>"It means," the professional actor began, speaking as Ray, "that society +is a terrible avenger of insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian +wolves? When<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a> one of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour +him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there is something wolfish in +society. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, and society, which is made +up of pretence, will bitterly resent the mockery."</p> + +<p>At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel the +bitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descended upon +her. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapt in her own mounting thoughts. +She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood.</p> + +<p>"Come, girls," said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, "let us look after our +things. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters."</p> + +<p>"Cue," said the prompter, close to her side, but she did not hear. +Already she was moving forward with a steady grace, born of inspiration. +She dawned upon the audience, handsome and proud, shifting, with the +necessity of the situation, to a cold, white, helpless object, as the +social pack moved away from her scornfully.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. The radiating waves +of feeling and sincerity were already breaking against the farthest +walls of the chamber. The magic of passion, which will yet dissolve the +world, was here at work.</p> + +<p>There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of feeling, +heretofore wandering.</p> + +<p>"Ray! Ray! Why do you not come back to her?" was the cry of Pearl.</p> + +<p>Every eye was fixed on Carrie, still proud and scornful. They moved as +she moved. Their eyes were with her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, approached her.</p> + +<p>"Let us go home," she said.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Carrie, her voice assuming for the<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> first time a +penetrating quality which it had never known. "Stay with him!"</p> + +<p>She pointed an almost accusing hand toward her lover. Then, with a +pathos which struck home because of its utter simplicity, "He shall not +suffer long."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood realised that he was seeing something extraordinarily good. It +was heightened for him by the applause of the audience as the curtain +descended and the fact that it was Carrie. He thought now that she was +beautiful. She had done something which was above his sphere. He felt a +keen delight in realising that she was his.</p> + +<p>"Fine," he said, and then, seized by a sudden impulse, arose and went +about to the stage door.</p> + +<p>When he came in upon Carrie she was still with Drouet. His feelings for +her were most exuberant. He was almost swept away by the strength and +feeling she exhibited. His desire was to pour forth his praise with the +unbounded feelings of a lover, but here was Drouet, whose affection was +also rapidly reviving. The latter was more fascinated, if anything, than +Hurstwood. At least, in the nature of things, it took a more ruddy form.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said Drouet, "you did out of sight. That was simply great. +I knew you could do it. Oh, but you're a little daisy!"</p> + +<p>Carrie's eyes flamed with the light of achievement.</p> + +<p>"Did I do all right?"</p> + +<p>"Did you? Well, I guess. Didn't you hear the applause?"</p> + +<p>There was some faint sound of clapping yet.</p> + +<p>"I thought I got it something like—I felt it."</p> + +<p>Just then Hurstwood came in. Instinctively he felt the change in Drouet. +He saw that the drummer was near to Carrie, and jealousy leaped alight +in his bosom. In a flash of thought, he reproached himself for having<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> +sent him back. Also, he hated him as an intruder. He could scarcely pull +himself down to the level where he would have to congratulate Carrie as +a friend. Nevertheless, the man mastered himself, and it was a triumph. +He almost jerked the old subtle light to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I thought," he said, looking at Carrie, "I would come around and tell +you how well you did, Mrs. Drouet. It was delightful."</p> + +<p>Carrie took the cue, and replied:</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you."</p> + +<p>"I was just telling her," put in Drouet, now delighted with his +possession, "that I thought she did fine."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you did," said Hurstwood, turning upon Carrie eyes in which she +read more than the words.</p> + +<p>Carrie laughed luxuriantly.</p> + +<p>"If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make us all think +you are a born actress."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled again. She felt the acuteness of Hurstwood's position, and +wished deeply that she could be alone with him, but she did not +understand the change in Drouet. Hurstwood found that he could not talk, +repressed as he was, and grudging Drouet every moment of his presence, +he bowed himself out with the elegance of a Faust. Outside he set his +teeth with envy.</p> + +<p>"Damn it!" he said, "is he always going to be in the way?" He was moody +when he got back to the box, and could not talk for thinking of his +wretched situation.</p> + +<p>As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came back. He was very +much enlivened in temper and inclined to whisper, but Hurstwood +pretended interest. He fixed his eyes on the stage, although Carrie was +not there, a short bit of melodramatic comedy preceding her entrance. He +did not see what was going on, however. He was thinking his own +thoughts, and they were wretched.<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a></p> + +<p>The progress of the play did not improve matters for him. Carrie, from +now on, was easily the centre of interest. The audience, which had been +inclined to feel that nothing could be good after the first gloomy +impression, now went to the other extreme and saw power where it was +not. The general feeling reacted on Carrie. She presented her part with +some felicity, though nothing like the intensity which had aroused the +feeling at the end of the long first act.</p> + +<p>Both Hurstwood and Drouet viewed her pretty figure with rising feelings. +The fact that such ability should reveal itself in her, that they should +see it set forth under such effective circumstances, framed almost in +massy gold and shone upon by the appropriate lights of sentiment and +personality, heightened her charm for them. She was more than the old +Carrie to Drouet. He longed to be at home with her until he could tell +her. He awaited impatiently the end, when they should go home alone.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, on the contrary, saw in the strength of her new +attractiveness his miserable predicament. He could have cursed the man +beside him. By the Lord, he could not even applaud feelingly as he +would. For once he must simulate when it left a taste in his mouth.</p> + +<p>It was in the last act that Carrie's fascination for her lovers assumed +its most effective character.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood listened to its progress, wondering when Carrie would come on. +He had not long to wait. The author had used the artifice of sending all +the merry company for a drive, and now Carrie came in alone. It was the +first time that Hurstwood had had a chance to see her facing the +audience quite alone, for nowhere else had she been without a foil of +some sort. He suddenly felt, as she entered, that her old strength—the +power that had grasped him at the end of the first act—had come back. +She<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> seemed to be gaining feeling, now that the play was drawing to a +close and the opportunity for great action was passing.</p> + +<p>"Poor Pearl," she said, speaking with natural pathos. "It is a sad thing +to want for happiness, but it is a terrible thing to see another groping +about blindly for it, when it is almost within the grasp."</p> + +<p>She was gazing now sadly out upon the open sea, her arm resting +listlessly upon the polished door-post.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood began to feel a deep sympathy for her and for himself. He +could almost feel that she was talking to him. He was, by a combination +of feelings and entanglements, almost deluded by that quality of voice +and manner which, like a pathetic strain of music, seems ever a personal +and intimate thing. Pathos has this quality, that it seems ever +addressed to one alone.</p> + +<p>"And yet, she can be very happy with him," went on the little actress. +"Her sunny temper, her joyous face will brighten any home."</p> + +<p>She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. There was so much +simplicity in her movements that she seemed wholly alone. Then she found +a seat by a table, and turned over some books, devoting a thought to +them.</p> + +<p>"With no longings for what I may not have," she breathed in +conclusion—and it was almost a sigh—"my existence hidden from all save +two in the wide world, and making my joy out of the joy of that innocent +girl who will soon be his wife."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was sorry when a character, known as Peach Blossom, +interrupted her. He stirred irritably, for he wished her to go on. He +was charmed by the pale face, the lissome figure, draped in pearl grey, +with a coiled string of pears at the throat. Carrie had the air of one +who was weary and in need of protection, and, under the fascinating<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a> +make-believe of the moment, he rose in feeling until he was ready in +spirit to go to her and ease her out of her misery by adding to his own +delight.</p> + +<p>In a moment Carrie was alone again, and was saying, with animation:</p> + +<p>"I must return to the city, no matter what dangers may lurk here. I must +go, secretly if I can; openly, if I must."</p> + +<p>There was a sound of horses' hoofs outside, and then Ray's voice saying:</p> + +<p>"No, I shall not ride again. Put him up."</p> + +<p>He entered, and then began a scene which had as much to do with the +creation of the tragedy of affection in Hurstwood as anything in his +peculiar and involved career. For Carrie had resolved to make something +of this scene, and, now that the cue had come, it began to take a +feeling hold upon her. Both Hurstwood and Drouet noted the rising +sentiment as she proceeded.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had gone with Pearl," she said to her lover.</p> + +<p>"I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile down the road."</p> + +<p>"You and Pearl had no disagreement?"</p> + +<p>"No—yes; that is, we always have. Our social barometers always stand at +'cloudy' and 'overcast.'"</p> + +<p>"And whose fault is that?" she said, easily.</p> + +<p>"Not mine," he answered, pettishly. "I know I do all I can—I say all I +can—but she——"</p> + +<p>This was rather awkwardly put by Patton, but Carrie redeemed it with a +grace which was inspiring.</p> + +<p>"But she is your wife," she said, fixing her whole attention upon the +stilled actor, and softening the quality of her voice until it was again +low and musical. "Ray, my<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a> friend, courtship is the text from which the +whole sermon of married life takes its theme. Do not let yours be +discontented and unhappy."</p> + +<p>She put her two little hands together and pressed them appealingly.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood gazed with slightly parted lips. Drouet was fidgeting with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"To be my wife, yes," went on the actor in a manner which was weak by +comparison, but which could not now spoil the tender atmosphere which +Carrie had created and maintained. She did not seem to feel that he was +wretched. She would have done nearly as well with a block of wood. The +accessories she needed were within her own imagination. The acting of +others could not affect them.</p> + +<p>"And you repent already?" she said, slowly.</p> + +<p>"I lost you," he said, seizing her little hand, "and I was at the mercy +of any flirt who chose to give me an inviting look. It was your +fault—you know it was—why did you leave me?"</p> + +<p>Carrie turned slowly away, and seemed to be mastering some impulse in +silence. Then she turned back.</p> + +<p>"Ray," she said, "the greatest happiness I have ever felt has been the +thought that all your affection was forever bestowed upon a virtuous +woman, your equal in family, fortune, and accomplishments. What a +revelation do you make to me now! What is it makes you continually war +with your happiness?"</p> + +<p>The last question was asked so simply that it came to the audience and +the lover as a personal thing.</p> + +<p>At last it came to the part where the lover exclaimed, "Be to me as you +used to be."</p> + +<p>Carrie answered, with affecting sweetness, "I cannot be that to you, but +I can speak in the spirit of the Laura who is dead to you forever."<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a></p> + +<p>"Be it as you will," said Patton.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood leaned forward. The whole audience was silent and intent.</p> + +<p>"Let the woman you look upon be wise or vain," said Carrie, her eyes +bent sadly upon the lover, who had sunk into a seat, "beautiful or +homely, rich or poor, she has but one thing she can really give or +refuse—her heart."</p> + +<p>Drouet felt a scratch in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may sell to you; but her +love is the treasure without money and without price."</p> + +<p>The manager suffered this as a personal appeal. It came to him as if +they were alone, and he could hardly restrain the tears for sorrow over +the hopeless, pathetic, and yet dainty and appealing woman whom he +loved. Drouet also was beside himself. He was resolving that he would be +to Carrie what he had never been before. He would marry her, by George! +She was worth it.</p> + +<p>"She asks only in return," said Carrie, scarcely hearing the small, +scheduled reply of her lover, and putting herself even more in harmony +with the plaintive melody now issuing from the orchestra, "that when you +look upon her your eyes shall speak devotion; that when you address her +your voice shall be gentle, loving, and kind; that you shall not despise +her because she cannot understand all at once your vigorous thoughts and +ambitious designs; for, when misfortune and evil have defeated your +greatest purposes, her love remains to console you. You look to the +trees," she continued, while Hurstwood restrained his feelings only by +the grimmest repression, "for strength and grandeur; do not despise the +flowers because their fragrance is all they have to give. Remember," she +concluded, tenderly, "love is all a woman has to give," and she laid a +strange, sweet accent on the all,<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a> "but it is the only thing which God +permits us to carry beyond the grave."</p> + +<p>The two men were in the most harrowed state of affection. They scarcely +heard the few remaining words with which the scene concluded. They only +saw their idol, moving about with appealing grace, continuing a power +which to them was a revelation.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood resolved a thousand things, Drouet as well. They joined +equally in the burst of applause which called Carrie out. Drouet pounded +his hands until they ached. Then he jumped up again and started out. As +he went, Carrie came out, and, seeing an immense basket of flowers being +hurried down the aisle toward her, she waited. They were Hurstwood's. +She looked toward the manager's box for a moment, caught his eye, and +smiled. He could have leaped out of the box to enfold her. He forgot the +need of circumspectness which his married state enforced. He almost +forgot that he had with him in the box those who knew him. By the Lord, +he would have that lovely girl if it took his all. He would act at once. +This should be the end of Drouet, and don't you forget it. He would not +wait another day. The drummer should not have her.</p> + +<p>He was so excited that he could not stay in the box. He went into the +lobby, and then into the street, thinking. Drouet did not return. In a +few minutes the last act was over, and he was crazy to have Carrie +alone. He cursed the luck that could keep him smiling, bowing, shamming, +when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, when he wanted to whisper +to her alone. He groaned as he saw that his hopes were futile. He must +even take her to supper, shamming. He finally went about and asked how +she was getting along. The actors were all dressing, talking, hurrying +about. Drouet was palavering himself with the looseness of excitement +and passion.<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> The manager mastered himself only by a great effort.</p> + +<p>"We are going to supper, of course," he said, with a voice that was a +mockery of his heart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Carrie, smiling.</p> + +<p>The little actress was in fine feather. She was realising now what it +was to be petted. For once she was the admired, the sought-for. The +independence of success now made its first faint showing. With the +tables turned, she was looking down, rather than up, to her lover. She +did not fully realise that this was so, but there was something in +condescension coming from her which was infinitely sweet. When she was +ready they climbed into the waiting coach and drove down town; once, +only, did she find an opportunity to express her feeling, and that was +when the manager preceded Drouet in the coach and sat beside her. Before +Drouet was fully in she had squeezed Hurstwood's hand in a gentle, +impulsive manner. The manager was beside himself with affection. He +could have sold his soul to be with her alone. "Ah," he thought, "the +agony of it."</p> + +<p>Drouet hung on, thinking he was all in all. The dinner was spoiled by +his enthusiasm. Hurstwood went home feeling as if he should die if he +did not find affectionate relief. He whispered "to-morrow" passionately +to Carrie, and she understood. He walked away from the drummer and his +prize at parting feeling as if he could slay him and not regret. Carrie +also felt the misery of it.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he said, simulating an easy friendliness.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said the little actress, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"The fool!" he said, now hating Drouet. "The idiot! I'll do him yet, and +that quick! We'll see to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you aren't a wonder," Drouet was saying, complacently, +squeezing Carrie's arm. "You are the dandiest little girl on earth."<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><br /> +<small>THE LURE OF THE SPIRIT: THE FLESH IN PURSUIT</small></h2> + +<p>Passion in a man of Hurstwood's nature takes a vigorous form. It is no +musing, dreamy thing. There is none of the tendency to sing outside of +my lady's window—to languish and repine in the face of difficulties. In +the night he was long getting to sleep because of too much thinking, and +in the morning he was early awake, seizing with alacrity upon the same +dear subject and pursuing it with vigour. He was out of sorts +physically, as well as disordered mentally, for did he not delight in a +new manner in his Carrie, and was not Drouet in the way? Never was man +more harassed than he by the thoughts of his love being held by the +elated, flush-mannered drummer. He would have given anything, it seemed +to him, to have the complication ended—to have Carrie acquiesce to an +arrangement which would dispose of Drouet effectually and forever.</p> + +<p>What to do. He dressed thinking. He moved about in the same chamber with +his wife, unmindful of her presence.</p> + +<p>At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. The meat to which he +helped himself remained on his plate untouched. His coffee grew cold, +while he scanned the paper indifferently. Here and there he read a +little thing, but remembered nothing. Jessica had not yet come down. His +wife sat at one end of the table revolving thoughts of her own in +silence. A new servant had<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> been recently installed and had forgot the +napkins. On this account the silence was irritably broken by a reproof.</p> + +<p>"I've told you about this before, Maggie," said Mrs. Hurstwood. "I'm not +going to tell you again."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood took a glance at his wife. She was frowning. Just now her +manner irritated him excessively. Her next remark was addressed to him.</p> + +<p>"Have you made up your mind, George, when you will take your vacation?"</p> + +<p>It was customary for them to discuss the regular summer outing at this +season of the year.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he said, "I'm very busy just now."</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll want to make up your mind pretty soon, won't you, if we're +going?" she returned.</p> + +<p>"I guess we have a few days yet," he said.</p> + +<p>"Hmff," she returned. "Don't wait until the season's over."</p> + +<p>She stirred in aggravation as she said this.</p> + +<p>"There you go again," he observed. "One would think I never did +anything, the way you begin."</p> + +<p>"Well, I want to know about it," she reiterated.</p> + +<p>"You've got a few days yet," he insisted. "You'll not want to start +before the races are over."</p> + +<p>He was irritated to think that this should come up when he wished to +have his thoughts for other purposes.</p> + +<p>"Well, we may. Jessica doesn't want to stay until the end of the races."</p> + +<p>"What did you want with a season ticket, then?"</p> + +<p>"Uh!" she said, using the sound as an exclamation of disgust, "I'll not +argue with you," and therewith arose to leave the table.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, rising, putting a note of determination in his voice +which caused her to delay her departure, "what's the matter with you of +late? Can't I talk with you any more?"<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a></p> + +<p>"Certainly, you can <i>talk</i> with me," she replied, laying emphasis on the +word.</p> + +<p>"Well, you wouldn't think so by the way you act. Now, you want to know +when I'll be ready—not for a month yet. Maybe not then."</p> + +<p>"We'll go without you."</p> + +<p>"You will, eh?" he sneered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will."</p> + +<p>He was astonished at the woman's determination, but it only irritated +him the more.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see about that. It seems to me you're trying to run things +with a pretty high hand of late. You talk as though you settled my +affairs for me. Well, you don't. You don't regulate anything that's +connected with me. If you want to go, go, but you won't hurry me by any +such talk as that."</p> + +<p>He was thoroughly aroused now. His dark eyes snapped, and he crunched +his paper as he laid it down. Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing more. He was +just finishing when she turned on her heel and went out into the hall +and upstairs. He paused for a moment, as if hesitating, then sat down +and drank a little coffee, and thereafter arose and went for his hat and +gloves upon the main floor.</p> + +<p>His wife had really not anticipated a row of this character. She had +come down to the breakfast table feeling a little out of sorts with +herself and revolving a scheme which she had in her mind. Jessica had +called her attention to the fact that the races were not what they were +supposed to be. The social opportunities were not what they had thought +they would be this year. The beautiful girl found going every day a dull +thing. There was an earlier exodus this year of people who were anybody +to the watering places and Europe. In her own circle of acquaintances +several young men in whom she was interested had<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a> gone to Waukesha. She +began to feel that she would like to go too, and her mother agreed with +her.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Mrs. Hurstwood decided to broach the subject. She was +thinking this over when she came down to the table, but for some reason +the atmosphere was wrong. She was not sure, after it was all over, just +how the trouble had begun. She was determined now, however, that her +husband was a brute, and that, under no circumstances, would she let +this go by unsettled. She would have more lady-like treatment or she +would know why.</p> + +<p>For his part, the manager was loaded with the care of this new argument +until he reached his office and started from there to meet Carrie. Then +the other complications of love, desire, and opposition possessed him. +His thoughts fled on before him upon eagles' wings. He could hardly wait +until he should meet Carrie face to face. What was the night, after all, +without her—what the day? She must and should be his.</p> + +<p>For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy and feeling since +she had left him, the night before. She had listened to Drouet's +enthusiastic maunderings with much regard for that part which concerned +herself, with very little for that which affected his own gain. She kept +him at such lengths as she could, because her thoughts were with her own +triumph. She felt Hurstwood's passion as a delightful background to her +own achievement, and she wondered what he would have to say. She was +sorry for him, too, with that peculiar sorrow which finds something +complimentary to itself in the misery of another. She was now +experiencing the first shades of feeling of that subtle change which +removes one out of the ranks of the suppliants into the lines of the +dispensers of charity. She was, all in all, exceedingly happy.</p> + +<p>On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a> papers concerning the +event, and, in view of the flow of common, everyday things about, it now +lost a shade of the glow of the previous evening. Drouet himself was not +talking so much <i>of</i> as <i>for</i> her. He felt instinctively that, for some +reason or other, he needed reconstruction in her regard.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, as he spruced around their chambers the next +morning, preparatory to going down town, "that I'll straighten out that +little deal of mine this month and then we'll get married. I was talking +with Mosher about that yesterday."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," said Carrie, who was coming to feel a certain faint +power to jest with the drummer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will," he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, adding, with the +tone of one who pleads, "Don't you believe what I've told you?"</p> + +<p>Carrie laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," she answered.</p> + +<p>Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was his mental +observation, there was that in the things which had happened which made +his little power of analysis useless. Carrie was still with him, but not +helpless and pleading. There was a lilt in her voice which was new. She +did not study him with eyes expressive of dependence. The drummer was +feeling the shadow of something which was coming. It coloured his +feelings and made him develop those little attentions and say those +little words which were mere forefendations against danger.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for her meeting with +Hurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which was soon made, and hastened +down the stairs. At the corner she passed Drouet, but they did not see +each other.</p> + +<p>The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn into his +house. He hastened up the stairs and<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> burst into the room, but found +only the chambermaid, who was cleaning up.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?"</p> + +<p>"Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"That's strange," thought Drouet. "She didn't say a word to me. I wonder +where she went?"</p> + +<p>He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he wanted, and +finally pocketing it. Then he turned his attention to his fair +neighbour, who was good-looking and kindly disposed towards him.</p> + +<p>"What are you up to?" he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Just cleaning," she replied, stopping and winding a dusting towel about +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Tired of it?"</p> + +<p>"Not so very."</p> + +<p>"Let me show you something," he said, affably, coming over and taking +out of his pocket a little lithographed card which had been issued by a +wholesale tobacco company. On this was printed a picture of a pretty +girl, holding a striped parasol, the colours of which could be changed +by means of a revolving disk in the back, which showed red, yellow, +green, and blue through little interstices made in the ground occupied +by the umbrella top.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that clever?" he said, handing it to her and showing her how it +worked. "You never saw anything like that before."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it nice?" she answered.</p> + +<p>"You can have it if you want it," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"That's a pretty ring you have," he said, touching a commonplace setting +which adorned the hand holding the card he had given her.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a></p> + +<p>"That's right," he answered, making use of a pretence at examination to +secure her finger. "That's fine."</p> + +<p>The ice being thus broken, he launched into further observation, +pretending to forget that her fingers were still retained by his. She +soon withdrew them, however, and retreated a few feet to rest against +the window-sill.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see you for a long time," she said, coquettishly, repulsing +one of his exuberant approaches. "You must have been away."</p> + +<p>"I was," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Do you travel far?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty far—yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you like it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very well. You get tired of it after a while."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could travel," said the girl, gazing idly out of the window.</p> + +<p>"What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood?" she suddenly asked, +bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her own observation, seemed +to contain promising material.</p> + +<p>"He's here in town. What makes you ask about him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got back."</p> + +<p>"How did you come to know him?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last month?"</p> + +<p>"Get out," said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called more than half a +dozen times since we've been here."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't, eh?" said the girl, smiling. "That's all you know about it."</p> + +<p>Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was uncertain as to +whether she was joking or not.</p> + +<p>"Tease," he said, "what makes you smile that way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing."<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p> + +<p>"Have you seen him recently?"</p> + +<p>"Not since you came back," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Before?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"How often?"</p> + +<p>"Why, nearly every day."</p> + +<p>She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering what the +effect of her words would be.</p> + +<p>"Who did he come to see?" asked the drummer, incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Drouet."</p> + +<p>He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then attempted to correct +himself so as not to appear a dupe.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "what of it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied the girl, her head cocked coquettishly on one side.</p> + +<p>"He's an old friend," he went on, getting deeper into the mire.</p> + +<p>He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, but the taste +for it was temporarily removed. He was quite relieved when the girl's +name was called from below.</p> + +<p>"I've got to go," she said, moving away from him airily.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you later," he said, with a pretence of disturbance at being +interrupted.</p> + +<p>When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. His face, never +easily controlled by him, expressed all the perplexity and disturbance +which he felt. Could it be that Carrie had received so many visits and +yet said nothing about them? Was Hurstwood lying? What did the +chambermaid mean by it, anyway? He had thought there was something odd +about Carrie's manner at the time. Why did she look so disturbed when he +had asked her how many times Hurstwood had called? By George!<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> he +remembered now. There was something strange about the whole thing.</p> + +<p>He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, drawing up one leg +on his knee and frowning mightily. His mind ran on at a great rate.</p> + +<p>And yet Carrie hadn't acted out of the ordinary. It couldn't be, by +George, that she was deceiving him. She hadn't acted that way. Why, even +last night she had been as friendly toward him as could be, and +Hurstwood too. Look how they acted! He could hardly believe they would +try to deceive him.</p> + +<p>His thoughts burst into words.</p> + +<p>"She did act sort of funny at times. Here she had dressed and gone out +this morning and never said a word."</p> + +<p>He scratched his head and prepared to go down town. He was still +frowning. As he came into the hall he encountered the girl, who was now +looking after another chamber. She had on a white dusting cap, beneath +which her chubby face shone good-naturedly. Drouet almost forgot his +worry in the fact that she was smiling on him. He put his hand +familiarly on her shoulder, as if only to greet her in passing.</p> + +<p>"Got over being mad?" she said, still mischievously inclined.</p> + +<p>"I'm not mad," he answered.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were," she said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Quit your fooling about that," he said, in an offhand way. "Were you +serious?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she answered. Then, with an air of one who did not +intentionally mean to create trouble, "He came lots of times. I thought +you knew."</p> + +<p>The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did not try to simulate +indifference further.</p> + +<p>"Did he spend the evenings here?" he asked.<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a></p> + +<p>"Sometimes. Sometimes they went out."</p> + +<p>"In the evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though."</p> + +<p>"I'm not," he said. "Did any one else see him?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the girl, as if, after all, it were nothing in +particular.</p> + +<p>"How long ago was this?"</p> + +<p>"Just before you came back."</p> + +<p>The drummer pinched his lip nervously.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything, will you?" he asked, giving the girl's arm a gentle +squeeze.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," she returned. "I wouldn't worry over it."</p> + +<p>"All right," he said, passing on, seriously brooding for once, and yet +not wholly unconscious of the fact that he was making a most excellent +impression upon the chambermaid.</p> + +<p>"I'll see her about that," he said to himself, passionately, feeling +that he had been unduly wronged. "I'll find out, b'George, whether +she'll act that way or not."<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><br /> +<small>THE LURE OF THE SPIRIT: THE FLESH IN PURSUIT</small></h2> + +<p>When Carrie came Hurstwood had been waiting many minutes. His blood was +warm; his nerves wrought up. He was anxious to see the woman who had +stirred him so profoundly the night before.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," he said, repressedly, feeling a spring in his limbs and +an elation which was tragic in itself.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>They walked on as if bound for some objective point, while Hurstwood +drank in the radiance of her presence. The rustle of her pretty skirt +was like music to him.</p> + +<p>"Are you satisfied?" he asked, thinking of how well she did the night +before.</p> + +<p>"Are you?"</p> + +<p>He tightened his fingers as he saw the smile she gave him.</p> + +<p>"It was wonderful."</p> + +<p>Carrie laughed ecstatically.</p> + +<p>"That was one of the best things I've seen in a long time," he added.</p> + +<p>He was dwelling on her attractiveness as he had felt it the evening +before, and mingling it with the feeling her presence inspired now.</p> + +<p>Carrie was dwelling in the atmosphere which this man created for her. +Already she was enlivened and suffused with a glow. She felt his drawing +toward her in every sound of his voice.<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></p> + +<p>"Those were such nice flowers you sent me," she said, after a moment or +two. "They were beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Glad you liked them," he answered, simply.</p> + +<p>He was thinking all the time that the subject of his desire was being +delayed. He was anxious to turn the talk to his own feelings. All was +ripe for it. His Carrie was beside him. He wanted to plunge in and +expostulate with her, and yet he found himself fishing for words and +feeling for a way.</p> + +<p>"You got home all right," he said, gloomily, of a sudden, his tone +modifying itself to one of self-commiseration.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie, easily.</p> + +<p>He looked at her steadily for a moment, slowing his pace and fixing her +with his eye.</p> + +<p>She felt the flood of feeling.</p> + +<p>"How about me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>This confused Carrie considerably, for she realised the floodgates were +open. She didn't know exactly what to answer.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered.</p> + +<p>He took his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, and then let it +go. He stopped by the walk side and kicked the grass with his toe. He +searched her face with a tender, appealing glance.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come away from him?" he asked, intensely.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," returned Carrie, still illogically drifting and finding +nothing at which to catch.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, she was in a most hopeless quandary. Here was a man +whom she thoroughly liked, who exercised an influence over her, +sufficient almost to delude her into the belief that she was possessed +of a lively passion for him. She was still the victim of his keen eyes, +his suave manners, his fine clothes. She looked and saw before<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> her a +man who was most gracious and sympathetic, who leaned toward her with a +feeling that was a delight to observe. She could not resist the glow of +his temperament, the light of his eye. She could hardly keep from +feeling what he felt.</p> + +<p>And yet she was not without thoughts which were disturbing. What did he +know? What had Drouet told him? Was she a wife in his eyes, or what? +Would he marry her? Even while he talked, and she softened, and her eyes +were lighted with a tender glow, she was asking herself if Drouet had +told him they were not married. There was never anything at all +convincing about what Drouet said.</p> + +<p>And yet she was not grieved at Hurstwood's love. No strain of bitterness +was in it for her, whatever he knew. He was evidently sincere. His +passion was real and warm. There was power in what he said. What should +she do? She went on thinking this, answering vaguely, languishing +affectionately, and altogether drifting, until she was on a borderless +sea of speculation.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come away?" he said, tenderly. "I will arrange for you +whatever—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Don't what?" he asked. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>There was a look of confusion and pain in her face. She was wondering +why that miserable thought must be brought in. She was struck as by a +blade with the miserable provision which was outside the pale of +marriage.</p> + +<p>He himself realised that it was a wretched thing to have dragged in. He +wanted to weigh the effects of it, and yet he could not see. He went +beating on, flushed by her presence, clearly awakened, intensely +enlisted in his plan.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come?" he said, beginning over and with a more reverent +feeling. "You know I can't do without you—you know it—it can't go on +this way—can it?"<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a></p> + +<p>"I know," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask if I—I wouldn't argue with you if I could help it. Look +at me, Carrie. Put yourself in my place. You don't want to stay away +from me, do you?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head as if in deep thought.</p> + +<p>"Then why not settle the whole thing, once and for all?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Don't know! Ah, Carrie, what makes you say that? Don't torment me. Be +serious."</p> + +<p>"I am," said Carrie, softly.</p> + +<p>"You can't be, dearest, and say that. Not when you know how I love you. +Look at last night."</p> + +<p>His manner as he said this was the most quiet imaginable. His face and +body retained utter composure. Only his eyes moved, and they flashed a +subtle, dissolving fire. In them the whole intensity of the man's nature +was distilling itself.</p> + +<p>Carrie made no answer.</p> + +<p>"How can you act this way, dearest?" he inquired, after a time. "You +love me, don't you?"</p> + +<p>He turned on her such a storm of feeling that she was overwhelmed. For +the moment all doubts were cleared away.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, frankly and tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then you'll come, won't you—come to-night?"</p> + +<p>Carrie shook her head in spite of her distress.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait any longer," urged Hurstwood. "If that is too soon, come +Saturday."</p> + +<p>"When will we be married?" she asked, diffidently, forgetting in her +difficult situation that she had hoped he took her to be Drouet's wife.</p> + +<p>The manager started, hit as he was by a problem which was more difficult +than hers. He gave no sign of the thoughts that flashed like messages to +his mind.<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a></p> + +<p>"Any time you say," he said, with ease, refusing to discolour his +present delight with this miserable problem.</p> + +<p>"Saturday?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>He nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you will marry me then," she said, "I'll go."</p> + +<p>The manager looked at his lovely prize, so beautiful, so winsome, so +difficult to be won, and made strange resolutions. His passion had +gotten to that stage now where it was no longer coloured with reason. He +did not trouble over little barriers of this sort in the face of so much +loveliness. He would accept the situation with all its difficulties; he +would not try to answer the objections which cold truth thrust upon him. +He would promise anything, everything, and trust to fortune to +disentangle him. He would make a try for Paradise, whatever might be the +result. He would be happy, by the Lord, if it cost all honesty of +statement, all abandonment of truth.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him tenderly. She could have laid her head upon his +shoulder, so delightful did it all seem.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I'll try and get ready then."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood looked into her pretty face, crossed with little shadows of +wonder and misgiving, and thought he had never seen anything more +lovely.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you again to-morrow," he said, joyously, "and we'll talk over +the plans."</p> + +<p>He walked on with her, elated beyond words, so delightful had been the +result. He impressed a long story of joy and affection upon her, though +there was but here and there a word. After a half-hour he began to +realise that the meeting must come to an end, so exacting is the world.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said at parting, a gayety of manner adding wonderfully +to his brave demeanour.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie, tripping elatedly away.<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a></p> + +<p>There had been so much enthusiasm engendered that she was believing +herself deeply in love. She sighed as she thought of her handsome +adorer. Yes, she would get ready by Saturday. She would go, and they +would be happy.<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><br /> +<small>THE BLAZE OF THE TINDER: FLESH WARS WITH THE FLESH</small></h2> + +<p>The misfortune of the Hurstwood household was due to the fact that +jealousy, having been born of love, did not perish with it. Mrs. +Hurstwood retained this in such form that subsequent influences could +transform it into hate. Hurstwood was still worthy, in a physical sense, +of the affection his wife had once bestowed upon him, but in a social +sense he fell short. With his regard died his power to be attentive to +her, and this, to a woman, is much greater than outright crime toward +another. Our self-love dictates our appreciation of the good or evil in +another. In Mrs. Hurstwood it discoloured the very hue of her husband's +indifferent nature. She saw design in deeds and phrases which sprung +only from a faded appreciation of her presence.</p> + +<p>As a consequence, she was resentful and suspicious. The jealousy that +prompted her to observe every falling away from the little amenities of +the married relation on his part served to give her notice of the airy +grace with which he still took the world. She could see from the +scrupulous care which he exercised in the matter of his personal +appearance that his interest in life had abated not a jot. Every motion, +every glance had something in it of the pleasure he felt in Carrie, of +the zest this new pursuit of pleasure lent to his days. Mrs. Hurstwood +felt something, sniffing change, as animals do danger, afar off.</p> + +<p>This feeling was strengthened by actions of a direct and more potent +nature on the part of Hurstwood. We<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> have seen with what irritation he +shirked those little duties which no longer contained any amusement or +satisfaction for him, and the open snarls with which, more recently, he +resented her irritating goads. These little rows were really +precipitated by an atmosphere which was surcharged with dissension. That +it would shower, with a sky so full of blackening thunder-clouds, would +scarcely be thought worthy of comment. Thus, after leaving the breakfast +table this morning, raging inwardly at his blank declaration of +indifference at her plans, Mrs. Hurstwood encountered Jessica in her +dressing-room, very leisurely arranging her hair. Hurstwood had already +left the house.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't be so late coming down to breakfast," she said, +addressing Jessica, while making for her crochet basket. "Now here the +things are quite cold, and you haven't eaten."</p> + +<p>Her natural composure was sadly ruffled, and Jessica was doomed to feel +the fag end of the storm.</p> + +<p>"I'm not hungry," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you say so, and let the girl put away the things, +instead of keeping her waiting all morning?"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't mind," answered Jessica, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do, if she doesn't," returned the mother, "and, anyhow, I don't +like you to talk that way to me. You're too young to put on such an air +with your mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, don't row," answered Jessica. "What's the matter this +morning, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing's the matter, and I'm not rowing. You mustn't think because I +indulge you in some things that you can keep everybody waiting. I won't +have it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not keeping anybody waiting," returned Jessica, sharply, stirred +out of a cynical indifference to a sharp defence. "I said I wasn't +hungry. I don't want any breakfast."<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a></p> + +<p>"Mind how you address me, missy. I'll not have it. Hear me now; I'll not +have it!"</p> + +<p>Jessica heard this last while walking out of the room, with a toss of +her head and a flick of her pretty skirts indicative of the independence +and indifference she felt. She did not propose to be quarrelled with.</p> + +<p>Such little arguments were all too frequent, the result of a growth of +natures which were largely independent and selfish. George, Jr., +manifested even greater touchiness and exaggeration in the matter of his +individual rights, and attempted to make all feel that he was a man with +a man's privileges—an assumption which, of all things, is most +groundless and pointless in a youth of nineteen.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was a man of authority and some fine feeling, and it irritated +him excessively to find himself surrounded more and more by a world upon +which he had no hold, and of which he had a lessening understanding.</p> + +<p>Now, when such little things, such as the proposed earlier start to +Waukesha, came up, they made clear to him his position. He was being +made to follow, was not leading. When, in addition, a sharp temper was +manifested, and to the process of shouldering him out of his authority +was added a rousing intellectual kick, such as a sneer or a cynical +laugh, he was unable to keep his temper. He flew into hardly repressed +passion, and wished himself clear of the whole household. It seemed a +most irritating drag upon all his desires and opportunities.</p> + +<p>For all this, he still retained the semblance of leadership and control, +even though his wife was straining to revolt. Her display of temper and +open assertion of opposition were based upon nothing more than the +feeling that she could do it. She had no special evidence wherewith to +justify herself—the knowledge of something which would give her both +authority and excuse. The latter was<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> all that was lacking, however, to +give a solid foundation to what, in a way, seemed groundless discontent. +The clear proof of one overt deed was the cold breath needed to convert +the lowering clouds of suspicion into a rain of wrath.</p> + +<p>An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurstwood had come. Doctor +Beale, the handsome resident physician of the neighbourhood, met Mrs. +Hurstwood at her own doorstep some days after Hurstwood and Carrie had +taken the drive west on Washington Boulevard. Dr. Beale, coming east on +the same drive, had recognised Hurstwood, but not before he was quite +past him. He was not so sure of Carrie—did not know whether it was +Hurstwood's wife or daughter.</p> + +<p>"You don't speak to your friends when you meet them out driving, do +you?" he said, jocosely, to Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"If I see them, I do. Where was I?"</p> + +<p>"On Washington Boulevard," he answered, expecting her eye to light with +immediate remembrance.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, out near Hoyne Avenue. You were with your husband."</p> + +<p>"I guess you're mistaken," she answered. Then, remembering her husband's +part in the affair, she immediately fell a prey to a host of young +suspicions, of which, however, she gave no sign.</p> + +<p>"I know I saw your husband," he went on. "I wasn't so sure about you. +Perhaps it was your daughter."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was," said Mrs. Hurstwood, knowing full well that such was +not the case, as Jessica had been her companion for weeks. She had +recovered herself sufficiently to wish to know more of the details.</p> + +<p>"Was it in the afternoon?" she asked, artfully, assuming an air of +acquaintanceship with the matter.<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, about two or three."</p> + +<p>"It must have been Jessica," said Mrs. Hurstwood, not wishing to seem to +attach any importance to the incident.</p> + +<p>The physician had a thought or two of his own, but dismissed the matter +as worthy of no further discussion on his part at least.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood gave this bit of information considerable thought during +the next few hours, and even days. She took it for granted that the +doctor had really seen her husband, and that he had been riding, most +likely, with some other woman, after announcing himself as busy to her. +As a consequence, she recalled, with rising feeling, how often he had +refused to go to places with her, to share in little visits, or, indeed, +take part in any of the social amenities which furnished the diversion +of her existence. He had been seen at the theatre with people whom he +called Moy's friends; now he was seen driving, and, most likely, would +have an excuse for that. Perhaps there were others of whom she did not +hear, or why should he be so busy, so indifferent, of late? In the last +six weeks he had become strangely irritable—strangely satisfied to pick +up and go out, whether things were right or wrong in the house. Why?</p> + +<p>She recalled, with more subtle emotions, that he did not look at her now +with any of the old light of satisfaction or approval in his eye. +Evidently, along with other things, he was taking her to be getting old +and uninteresting. He saw her wrinkles, perhaps. She was fading, while +he was still preening himself in his elegance and youth. He was still an +interested factor in the merry-makings of the world, while she—but she +did not pursue the thought. She only found the whole situation bitter, +and hated him for it thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Nothing came of this incident at the time, for the truth is it did not +seem conclusive enough to warrant any discussion.<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a> Only the atmosphere +of distrust and ill-feeling was strengthened, precipitating every now +and then little sprinklings of irritable conversation, enlivened by +flashes of wrath. The matter of the Waukesha outing was merely a +continuation of other things of the same nature.</p> + +<p>The day after Carrie's appearance on the Avery stage, Mrs. Hurstwood +visited the races with Jessica and a youth of her acquaintance, Mr. Bart +Taylor, the son of the owner of a local house-furnishing establishment. +They had driven out early, and, as it chanced, encountered several +friends of Hurstwood, all Elks, and two of whom had attended the +performance the evening before. A thousand chances the subject of the +performance had never been brought up had Jessica not been so engaged by +the attentions of her young companion, who usurped as much time as +possible. This left Mrs. Hurstwood in the mood to extend the perfunctory +greetings of some who knew her into short conversations, and the short +conversations of friends into long ones. It was from one who meant but +to greet her perfunctorily that this interesting intelligence came.</p> + +<p>"I see," said this individual, who wore sporting clothes of the most +attractive pattern, and had a field-glass strung over his shoulder, +"that you did not get over to our little entertainment last evening."</p> + +<p>"No?" said Mrs. Hurstwood, inquiringly, and wondering why he should be +using the tone he did in noting the fact that she had not been to +something she knew nothing about. It was on her lips to say, "What was +it?" when he added, "I saw your husband."</p> + +<p>Her wonder was at once replaced by the more subtle quality of suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, cautiously, "was it pleasant? He did not tell me much +about it."</p> + +<p>"Very. Really one of the best private theatricals I<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> ever attended. +There was one actress who surprised us all."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Mrs. Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"It's too bad you couldn't have been there, really. I was sorry to hear +you weren't feeling well."</p> + +<p>Feeling well! Mrs. Hurstwood could have echoed the words after him +open-mouthed. As it was, she extricated herself from her mingled impulse +to deny and question, and said, almost raspingly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is too bad."</p> + +<p>"Looks like there will be quite a crowd here to-day, doesn't it?" the +acquaintance observed, drifting off upon another topic.</p> + +<p>The manager's wife would have questioned farther, but she saw no +opportunity. She was for the moment wholly at sea, anxious to think for +herself, and wondering what new deception was this which caused him to +give out that she was ill when she was not. Another case of her company +not wanted, and excuses being made. She resolved to find out more.</p> + +<p>"Were you at the performance last evening?" she asked of the next of +Hurstwood's friends who greeted her, as she sat in her box.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You didn't get around."</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, "I was not feeling very well."</p> + +<p>"So your husband told me," he answered. "Well, it was really very +enjoyable. Turned out much better than I expected."</p> + +<p>"Were there many there?"</p> + +<p>"The house was full. It was quite an Elk night. I saw quite a number of +your friends—Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Collins."</p> + +<p>"Quite a social gathering."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it was. My wife enjoyed it very much."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood bit her lip.<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> + +<p>"So," she thought, "that's the way he does. Tells my friends I am sick +and cannot come."</p> + +<p>She wondered what could induce him to go alone. There was something back +of this. She rummaged her brain for a reason.</p> + +<p>By evening, when Hurstwood reached home, she had brooded herself into a +state of sullen desire for explanation and revenge. She wanted to know +what this peculiar action of his imported. She was certain there was +more behind it all than what she had heard, and evil curiosity mingled +well with distrust and the remnants of her wrath of the morning. She, +impending disaster itself, walked about with gathered shadow at the eyes +and the rudimentary muscles of savagery fixing the hard lines of her +mouth.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, as we may well believe, the manager came home in the +sunniest mood. His conversation and agreement with Carrie had raised his +spirits until he was in the frame of mind of one who sings joyously. He +was proud of himself, proud of his success, proud of Carrie. He could +have been genial to all the world, and he bore no grudge against his +wife. He meant to be pleasant, to forget her presence, to live in the +atmosphere of youth and pleasure which had been restored to him.</p> + +<p>So now, the house, to his mind, had a most pleasing and comfortable +appearance. In the hall he found an evening paper, laid there by the +maid and forgotten by Mrs. Hurstwood. In the dining-room the table was +clean laid with linen and napery and shiny with glasses and decorated +china. Through an open door he saw into the kitchen, where the fire was +crackling in the stove and the evening meal already well under way. Out +in the small back yard was George, Jr., frolicking with a young dog he +had recently purchased, and in the parlour Jessica was playing at the +piano, the sounds of a merry waltz filling every nook<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> and corner of the +comfortable home. Every one, like himself, seemed to have regained his +good spirits, to be in sympathy with youth and beauty, to be inclined to +joy and merry-making. He felt as if he could say a good word all around +himself, and took a most genial glance at the spread table and polished +sideboard before going upstairs to read his paper in the comfortable +arm-chair of the sitting-room which looked through the open windows into +the street. When he entered there, however, he found his wife brushing +her hair and musing to herself the while.</p> + +<p>He came lightly in, thinking to smooth over any feeling that might still +exist by a kindly word and a ready promise, but Mrs. Hurstwood said +nothing. He seated himself in the large chair, stirred lightly in making +himself comfortable, opened his paper, and began to read. In a few +moments he was smiling merrily over a very comical account of a baseball +game which had taken place between the Chicago and Detroit teams.</p> + +<p>The while he was doing this Mrs. Hurstwood was observing him casually +through the medium of the mirror which was before her. She noticed his +pleasant and contented manner, his airy grace and smiling humour, and it +merely aggravated her the more. She wondered how he could think to carry +himself so in her presence after the cynicism, indifference, and neglect +he had heretofore manifested and would continue to manifest so long as +she would endure it. She thought how she should like to tell him—what +stress and emphasis she would lend her assertions, how she should drive +over this whole affair until satisfaction should be rendered her. +Indeed, the shining sword of her wrath was but weakly suspended by a +thread of thought.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile Hurstwood encountered a humorous item concerning a +stranger who had arrived in the<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> city and became entangled with a +bunco-steerer. It amused him immensely, and at last he stirred and +chuckled to himself. He wished that he might enlist his wife's attention +and read it to her.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha," he exclaimed softly, as if to himself, "that's funny."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood kept on arranging her hair, not so much as deigning a +glance.</p> + +<p>He stirred again and went on to another subject. At last he felt as if +his good-humour must find some outlet. Julia was probably still out of +humour over that affair of this morning, but that could easily be +straightened. As a matter of fact, she was in the wrong, but he didn't +care. She could go to Waukesha right away if she wanted to. The sooner +the better. He would tell her that as soon as he got a chance, and the +whole thing would blow over.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice," he said, at last, breaking forth concerning another +item which he had found, "that they have entered suit to compel the +Illinois Central to get off the lake front, Julia?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She could scarcely force herself to answer, but managed to say "No," +sharply.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood pricked up his ears. There was a note in her voice which +vibrated keenly.</p> + +<p>"It would be a good thing if they did," he went on, half to himself, +half to her, though he felt that something was amiss in that quarter. He +withdrew his attention to his paper very circumspectly, listening +mentally for the little sounds which should show him what was on foot.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, no man as clever as Hurstwood—as observant and +sensitive to atmospheres of many sorts, particularly upon his own plane +of thought—would have made the mistake which he did in regard to his +wife, wrought up as she was, had he not been occupied mentally<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> with a +very different train of thought. Had not the influence of Carrie's +regard for him, the elation which her promise aroused in him, lasted +over, he would not have seen the house in so pleasant a mood. It was not +extraordinarily bright and merry this evening. He was merely very much +mistaken, and would have been much more fitted to cope with it had he +come home in his normal state.</p> + +<p>After he had studied his paper a few moments longer, he felt that he +ought to modify matters in some way or other. Evidently his wife was not +going to patch up peace at a word. So he said:</p> + +<p>"Where did George get the dog he has there in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she snapped.</p> + +<p>He put his paper down on his knees and gazed idly out of the window. He +did not propose to lose his temper, but merely to be persistent and +agreeable, and by a few questions bring around a mild understanding of +some sort.</p> + +<p>"Why do you feel so bad about that affair of this morning?" he said, at +last. "We needn't quarrel about that. You know you can go to Waukesha if +you want to."</p> + +<p>"So you can stay here and trifle around with some one else?" she +exclaimed, turning to him a determined countenance upon which was drawn +a sharp and wrathful sneer.</p> + +<p>He stopped as if slapped in the face. In an instant his persuasive, +conciliatory manner fled. He was on the defensive at a wink and puzzled +for a word to reply.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he said at last, straightening himself and gazing at +the cold, determined figure before him, who paid no attention, but went +on arranging herself before the mirror.</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean," she said, finally, as if there<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a> were a world of +information which she held in reserve—which she did not need to tell.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't," he said, stubbornly, yet nervous and alert for what +should come next. The finality of the woman's manner took away his +feeling of superiority in battle.</p> + +<p>She made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Hmph!" he murmured, with a movement of his head to one side. It was the +weakest thing he had ever done. It was totally unassured.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood noticed the lack of colour in it. She turned upon him, +animal-like, able to strike an effectual second blow.</p> + +<p>"I want the Waukesha money to-morrow morning," she said.</p> + +<p>He looked at her in amazement. Never before had he seen such a cold, +steely determination in her eye—such a cruel look of indifference. She +seemed a thorough master of her mood—thoroughly confident and +determined to wrest all control from him. He felt that all his resources +could not defend him. He must attack.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he said, jumping up. "You want! I'd like to know +what's got into you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Nothing's <i>got</i> into me," she said, flaming. "I want that money. You +can do your swaggering afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Swaggering, eh! What! You'll get nothing from me. What do you mean by +your insinuations, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Where were you last night?" she answered. The words were hot as they +came. "Who were you driving with on Washington Boulevard? Who were you +with at the theatre when George saw you? Do you think I'm a fool to be +duped by you? Do you think I'll sit at home here and take your 'too +busys' and 'can't come,' while you parade around and make out that I'm +unable to come? I want you to know that lordly airs have come to an end<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a> +so far as I am concerned. You can't dictate to me nor my children. I'm +through with you entirely."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie," he said, driven to a corner and knowing no other excuse.</p> + +<p>"Lie, eh!" she said, fiercely, but with returning reserve; "you may call +it a lie if you want to, but I know."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, I tell you," he said, in a low, sharp voice. "You've been +searching around for some cheap accusation for months, and now you think +you have it. You think you'll spring something and get the upper hand. +Well, I tell you, you can't. As long as I'm in this house I'm master of +it, and you or any one else won't dictate to me—do you hear?"</p> + +<p>He crept toward her with a light in his eye that was ominous. Something +in the woman's cool, cynical, upper-handish manner, as if she were +already master, caused him to feel for the moment as if he could +strangle her.</p> + +<p>She gazed at him—a pythoness in humour.</p> + +<p>"I'm not dictating to you," she returned; "I'm telling you what I want."</p> + +<p>The answer was so cool, so rich in bravado, that somehow it took the +wind out of his sails. He could not attack her, he could not ask her for +proofs. Somehow he felt evidence, law, the remembrance of all his +property which she held in her name, to be shining in her glance. He was +like a vessel, powerful and dangerous, but rolling and floundering +without sail.</p> + +<p>"And I'm telling you," he said in the end, slightly recovering himself, +"what you'll not get."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about it," she said. "I'll find out what my rights are. +Perhaps you'll talk to a lawyer, if you won't to me."</p> + +<p>It was a magnificent play, and had its effect. Hurstwood fell back +beaten. He knew now that he had more than mere bluff to contend with. He +felt that he was face<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a> to face with a dull proposition. What to say he +hardly knew. All the merriment had gone out of the day. He was +disturbed, wretched, resentful. What should he do?</p> + +<p>"Do as you please," he said, at last. "I'll have nothing more to do with +you," and out he strode.<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><br /> +<small>A SPIRIT IN TRAVAIL: ONE RUNG PUT BEHIND</small></h2> + +<p>When Carrie reached her own room she had already fallen a prey to those +doubts and misgivings which are ever the result of a lack of decision. +She could not persuade herself as to the advisability of her promise, or +that now, having given her word, she ought to keep it. She went over the +whole ground in Hurstwood's absence, and discovered little objections +that had not occurred to her in the warmth of the manager's argument. +She saw where she had put herself in a peculiar light, namely, that of +agreeing to marry when she was already supposedly married. She +remembered a few things Drouet had done, and now that it came to walking +away from him without a word, she felt as if she were doing wrong. Now, +she was comfortably situated, and to one who is more or less afraid of +the world, this is an urgent matter, and one which puts up strange, +uncanny arguments. "You do not know what will come. There are miserable +things outside. People go a-begging. Women are wretched. You never can +tell what will happen. Remember the time you were hungry. Stick to what +you have."</p> + +<p>Curiously, for all her leaning towards Hurstwood, he had not taken a +firm hold on her understanding. She was listening, smiling, approving, +and yet not finally agreeing. This was due to a lack of power on his +part, a lack of that majesty of passion that sweeps the mind from its +seat, fuses and melts all arguments and theories into a tangled mass, +and destroys for the time being the reasoning<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a> power. This majesty of +passion is possessed by nearly every man once in his life, but it is +usually an attribute of youth and conduces to the first successful +mating.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, being an older man, could scarcely be said to retain the fire +of youth, though he did possess a passion warm and unreasoning. It was +strong enough to induce the leaning toward him which, on Carrie's part, +we have seen. She might have been said to be imagining herself in love, +when she was not. Women frequently do this. It flows from the fact that +in each exists a bias toward affection, a craving for the pleasure of +being loved. The longing to be shielded, bettered, sympathised with, is +one of the attributes of the sex. This, coupled with sentiment and a +natural tendency to emotion, often makes refusing difficult. It +persuades them that they are in love.</p> + +<p>Once at home, she changed her clothes and straightened the rooms for +herself. In the matter of the arrangement of the furniture she never +took the house-maid's opinion. That young woman invariably put one of +the rocking-chairs in the corner, and Carrie as regularly moved it out. +To-day she hardly noticed that it was in the wrong place, so absorbed +was she in her own thoughts. She worked about the room until Drouet put +in appearance at five o'clock. The drummer was flushed and excited and +full of determination to know all about her relations with Hurstwood. +Nevertheless, after going over the subject in his mind the livelong day, +he was rather weary of it and wished it over with. He did not foresee +serious consequences of any sort, and yet he rather hesitated to begin. +Carrie was sitting by the window when he came in, rocking and looking +out.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said innocently, weary of her own mental discussion and +wondering at his haste and ill-concealed excitement, "what makes you +hurry so?"</p> + +<p>Drouet hesitated, now that he was in her presence, <a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>uncertain as to what +course to pursue. He was no diplomat. He could neither read nor see.</p> + +<p>"When did you get home?" he asked foolishly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, an hour or so ago. What makes you ask that?"</p> + +<p>"You weren't here," he said, "when I came back this morning, and I +thought you had gone out."</p> + +<p>"So I did," said Carrie simply. "I went for a walk."</p> + +<p>Drouet looked at her wonderingly. For all his lack of dignity in such +matters he did not know how to begin. He stared at her in the most +flagrant manner until at last she said:</p> + +<p>"What makes you stare at me so? What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he answered. "I was just thinking."</p> + +<p>"Just thinking what?" she returned smilingly, puzzled by his attitude.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—nothing much."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what makes you look so?"</p> + +<p>Drouet was standing by the dresser, gazing at her in a comic manner. He +had laid off his hat and gloves and was now fidgeting with the little +toilet pieces which were nearest him. He hesitated to believe that the +pretty woman before him was involved in anything so unsatisfactory to +himself. He was very much inclined to feel that it was all right, after +all. Yet the knowledge imparted to him by the chambermaid was rankling +in his mind. He wanted to plunge in with a straight remark of some sort, +but he knew not what.</p> + +<p>"Where did you go this morning?" he finally asked weakly.</p> + +<p>"Why, I went for a walk," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Sure you did?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, what makes you ask?"</p> + +<p>She was beginning to see now that he knew something. Instantly she drew +herself into a more reserved position. Her cheeks blanched slightly.<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a></p> + +<p>"I thought maybe you didn't," he said, beating about the bush in the +most useless manner.</p> + +<p>Carrie gazed at him, and as she did so her ebbing courage halted. She +saw that he himself was hesitating, and with a woman's intuition +realised that there was no occasion for great alarm.</p> + +<p>"What makes you talk like that?" she asked, wrinkling her pretty +forehead. "You act so funny to-night."</p> + +<p>"I feel funny," he answered.</p> + +<p>They looked at one another for a moment, and then Drouet plunged +desperately into his subject.</p> + +<p>"What's this about you and Hurstwood?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Me and Hurstwood—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't he come here a dozen times while I was away?"</p> + +<p>"A dozen times," repeated Carrie, guiltily. "No, but what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody said that you went out riding with him and that he came here +every night."</p> + +<p>"No such thing," answered Carrie. "It isn't true. Who told you that?"</p> + +<p>She was flushing scarlet to the roots of her hair, but Drouet did not +catch the full hue of her face, owing to the modified light of the room. +He was regaining much confidence as Carrie defended herself with +denials.</p> + +<p>"Well, some one," he said. "You're sure you didn't?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Carrie. "You know how often he came."</p> + +<p>Drouet paused for a moment and thought.</p> + +<p>"I know what you told me," he said finally.</p> + +<p>He moved nervously about, while Carrie looked at him confusedly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I know that I didn't tell you any such thing as that," said +Carrie, recovering herself.</p> + +<p>"If I were you," went on Drouet, ignoring her last<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> remark, "I wouldn't +have anything to do with him. He's a married man, you know."</p> + +<p>"Who—who is?" said Carrie, stumbling at the word.</p> + +<p>"Why, Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the effect and feeling that he was +delivering a telling blow.</p> + +<p>"Hurstwood!" exclaimed Carrie, rising. Her face had changed several +shades since this announcement was made. She looked within and without +herself in a half-dazed way.</p> + +<p>"Who told you this?" she asked, forgetting that her interest was out of +order and exceedingly incriminating.</p> + +<p>"Why, I know it. I've always known it," said Drouet.</p> + +<p>Carrie was feeling about for a right thought. She was making a most +miserable showing, and yet feelings were generating within her which +were anything but crumbling cowardice.</p> + +<p>"I thought I told you," he added.</p> + +<p>"No, you didn't," she contradicted, suddenly recovering her voice. "You +didn't do anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>Drouet listened to her in astonishment. This was something new.</p> + +<p>"I thought I did," he said.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked around her very solemnly, and then went over to the +window.</p> + +<p>"You oughtn't to have had anything to do with him," said Drouet in an +injured tone, "after all I've done for you."</p> + +<p>"You," said Carrie, "you! What have you done for me?"</p> + +<p>Her little brain had been surging with contradictory feelings—shame at +exposure, shame at Hurstwood's perfidy, anger at Drouet's deception, the +mockery he had made of her. Now one clear idea came into her head. He +was at fault. There was no doubt about it. Why did he bring Hurstwood +out—Hurstwood, a married<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a> man, and never say a word to her? Never mind +now about Hurstwood's perfidy—why had he done this? Why hadn't he +warned her? There he stood now, guilty of this miserable breach of +confidence and talking about what he had done for her!</p> + +<p>"Well, I like that," exclaimed Drouet, little realising the fire his +remark had generated. "I think I've done a good deal."</p> + +<p>"You have, eh?" she answered. "You've deceived me—that's what you've +done. You've brought your old friends out here under false pretences. +You've made me out to be—Oh," and with this her voice broke and she +pressed her two little hands together tragically.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what that's got to do with it," said the drummer quaintly.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, recovering herself and shutting her teeth. "No, of +course you don't see. There isn't anything you see. You couldn't have +told me in the first place, could you? You had to make me out wrong +until it was too late. Now you come sneaking around with your +information and your talk about what you have done."</p> + +<p>Drouet had never suspected this side of Carrie's nature. She was alive +with feeling, her eyes snapping, her lips quivering, her whole body +sensible of the injury she felt, and partaking of her wrath.</p> + +<p>"Who's sneaking?" he asked, mildly conscious of error on his part, but +certain that he was wronged.</p> + +<p>"You are," stamped Carrie. "You're a horrid, conceited coward, that's +what you are. If you had any sense of manhood in you, you wouldn't have +thought of doing any such thing."</p> + +<p>The drummer stared.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a coward," he said. "What do you mean by going with other men, +anyway?"<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a></p> + +<p>"Other men!" exclaimed Carrie. "Other men—you know better than that. I +did go with Mr. Hurstwood, but whose fault was it? Didn't you bring him +here? You told him yourself that he should come out here and take me +out. Now, after it's all over, you come and tell me that I oughtn't to +go with him and that he's a married man."</p> + +<p>She paused at the sound of the last two words and wrung her hands. The +knowledge of Hurstwood's perfidy wounded her like a knife.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she sobbed, repressing herself wonderfully and keeping her eyes +dry. "Oh, oh!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't think you'd be running around with him when I was away," +insisted Drouet.</p> + +<p>"Didn't think!" said Carrie, now angered to the core by the man's +peculiar attitude. "Of course not. You thought only of what would be to +your satisfaction. You thought you'd make a toy of me—a plaything. +Well, I'll show you that you won't. I'll have nothing more to do with +you at all. You can take your old things and keep them," and unfastening +a little pin he had given her, she flung it vigorously upon the floor +and began to move about as if to gather up the things which belonged to +her.</p> + +<p>By this Drouet was not only irritated but fascinated the more. He looked +at her in amazement, and finally said:</p> + +<p>"I don't see where your wrath comes in. I've got the right of this +thing. You oughtn't to have done anything that wasn't right after all I +did for you."</p> + +<p>"What have you done for me?" asked Carrie blazing, her head thrown back +and her lips parted.</p> + +<p>"I think I've done a good deal," said the drummer, looking around. "I've +given you all the clothes you wanted, haven't I? I've taken you +everywhere you wanted to go. You've had as much as I've had, and more +too."<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie was not ungrateful, whatever else might be said of her. In so far +as her mind could construe, she acknowledged benefits received. She +hardly knew how to answer this, and yet her wrath was not placated. She +felt that the drummer had injured her irreparably.</p> + +<p>"Did I ask you to?" she returned.</p> + +<p>"Well, I did it," said Drouet, "and you took it."</p> + +<p>"You talk as though I had persuaded you," answered Carrie. "You stand +there and throw up what you've done. I don't want your old things. I'll +not have them. You take them to-night and do what you please with them. +I'll not stay here another minute."</p> + +<p>"That's nice!" he answered, becoming angered now at the sense of his own +approaching loss. "Use everything and abuse me and then walk off. That's +just like a woman. I take you when you haven't got anything, and then +when some one else comes along, why I'm no good. I always thought it'd +come out that way."</p> + +<p>He felt really hurt as he thought of his treatment, and looked as if he +saw no way of obtaining justice.</p> + +<p>"It's not so," said Carrie, "and I'm not going with anybody else. You +have been as miserable and inconsiderate as you can be. I hate you, I +tell you, and I wouldn't live with you another minute. You're a big, +insulting"—here she hesitated and used no word at all—"or you wouldn't +talk that way."</p> + +<p>She had secured her hat and jacket and slipped the latter on over her +little evening dress. Some wisps of wavy hair had loosened from the +bands at the side of her head and were straggling over her hot, red +cheeks. She was angry, mortified, grief-stricken. Her large eyes were +full of the anguish of tears, but her lids were not yet wet. She was +distracted and uncertain, deciding and doing things without an aim or +conclusion, and she had not the slightest conception of how the whole +difficulty would end.<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, that's a fine finish," said Drouet. "Pack up and pull out, eh? +You take the cake. I bet you were knocking around with Hurstwood or you +wouldn't act like that. I don't want the old rooms. You needn't pull out +for me. You can have them for all I care, but b'George, you haven't done +me right."</p> + +<p>"I'll not live with you," said Carrie. "I don't want to live with you. +You've done nothing but brag around ever since you've been here."</p> + +<p>"Aw, I haven't anything of the kind," he answered.</p> + +<p>Carrie walked over to the door.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he said, stepping over and heading her off.</p> + +<p>"Let me out," she said.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>He was, above all, sympathetic, and the sight of Carrie wandering out, +he knew not where, affected him, despite his grievance.</p> + +<p>Carrie merely pulled at the door.</p> + +<p>The strain of the situation was too much for her, however. She made one +more vain effort and then burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Now, be reasonable, Cad," said Drouet gently. "What do you want to rush +out for this way? You haven't any place to go. Why not stay here now and +be quiet? I'll not bother you. I don't want to stay here any longer."</p> + +<p>Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. She was so overcome +she could not speak.</p> + +<p>"Be reasonable now," he said. "I don't want to hold you. You can go if +you want to, but why don't you think it over? Lord knows, I don't want +to stop you."</p> + +<p>He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, under the influence +of his plea.</p> + +<p>"You stay here now, and I'll go," he added at last.<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie listened to this with mingled feelings. Her mind was shaken loose +from the little mooring of logic that it had. She was stirred by this +thought, angered by that—her own injustice, Hurstwood's, Drouet's, +their respective qualities of kindness and favour, the threat of the +world outside, in which she had failed once before, the impossibility of +this state inside, where the chambers were no longer justly hers, the +effect of the argument upon her nerves, all combined to make her a mass +of jangling fibres—an anchorless, storm-beaten little craft which could +do absolutely nothing but drift.</p> + +<p>"Say," said Drouet, coming over to her after a few moments, with a new +idea, and putting his hand upon her.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Carrie, drawing away, but not removing her handkerchief +from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about this quarrel now. Let it go. You stay here until the +month's out, anyhow, and then you can tell better what you want to do. +Eh?"</p> + +<p>Carrie made no answer.</p> + +<p>"You'd better do that," he said. "There's no use your packing up now. +You can't go anywhere."</p> + +<p>Still he got nothing for his words.</p> + +<p>"If you'll do that, we'll call it off for the present and I'll get out."</p> + +<p>Carrie lowered her handkerchief slightly and looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Will you do that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Still no answer.</p> + +<p>"Will you?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>She only looked vaguely into the street.</p> + +<p>"Aw! come on," he said, "tell me. Will you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie softly, forced to answer.</p> + +<p>"Promise me you'll do that," he said, "and we'll quit talking about it. +It'll be the best thing for you."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard him, but she could not bring herself to<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> answer reasonably. +She felt that the man was gentle, and that his interest in her had not +abated, and it made her suffer a pang of regret. She was in a most +helpless plight.</p> + +<p>As for Drouet, his attitude had been that of the jealous lover. Now his +feelings were a mixture of anger at deception, sorrow at losing Carrie, +misery at being defeated. He wanted his rights in some way or other, and +yet his rights included the retaining of Carrie, the making her feel her +error.</p> + +<p>"Will you?" he urged.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll see," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>This left the matter as open as before, but it was something. It looked +as if the quarrel would blow over, if they could only get some way of +talking to one another. Carrie was ashamed, and Drouet aggrieved. He +pretended to take up the task of packing some things in a valise.</p> + +<p>Now, as Carrie watched him out of the corner of her eye, certain sound +thoughts came into her head. He had erred, true, but what had she done? +He was kindly and good-natured for all his egotism. Throughout this +argument he had said nothing very harsh. On the other hand, there was +Hurstwood—a greater deceiver than he. He had pretended all this +affection, all this passion, and he was lying to her all the while. Oh, +the perfidy of men! And she had loved him. There could be nothing more +in that quarter. She would see Hurstwood no more. She would write him +and let him know what she thought. Thereupon what would she do? Here +were these rooms. Here was Drouet, pleading for her to remain. Evidently +things could go on here somewhat as before, if all were arranged. It +would be better than the street, without a place to lay her head.</p> + +<p>All this she thought of as Drouet rummaged the drawers for collars and +laboured long and painstakingly at finding a shirt-stud. He was in no +hurry to rush this matter.<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> He felt an attraction to Carrie which would +not down. He could not think that the thing would end by his walking out +of the room. There must be some way round, some way to make her own up +that he was right and she was wrong—to patch up a peace and shut out +Hurstwood for ever. Mercy, how he turned at the man's shameless +duplicity.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," he said, after a few moments' silence, "that you'll try +and get on the stage?"</p> + +<p>He was wondering what she was intending.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I'll do yet," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"If you do, maybe I can help you. I've got a lot of friends in that +line."</p> + +<p>She made no answer to this.</p> + +<p>"Don't go and try to knock around now without any money. Let me help +you," he said. "It's no easy thing to go on your own hook here."</p> + +<p>Carrie only rocked back and forth in her chair.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go up against a hard game that way."</p> + +<p>He bestirred himself about some other details and Carrie rocked on.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell me all about this thing," he said, after a time, +"and let's call it off? You don't really care for Hurstwood, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to start on that again?" said Carrie. "You were to +blame."</p> + +<p>"No, I wasn't," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you were, too," said Carrie. "You shouldn't have ever told me such +a story as that."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't have much to do with him, did you?" went on Drouet, +anxious for his own peace of mind to get some direct denial from her.</p> + +<p>"I won't talk about it," said Carrie, pained at the quizzical turn the +peace arrangement had taken.<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a></p> + +<p>"What's the use of acting like that now, Cad?" insisted the drummer, +stopping in his work and putting up a hand expressively. "You might let +me know where I stand, at least."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Carrie, feeling no refuge but in anger. "Whatever has +happened is your own fault."</p> + +<p>"Then you do care for him?" said Drouet, stopping completely and +experiencing a rush of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop!" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll not be made a fool of," exclaimed Drouet. "You may trifle +around with him if you want to, but you can't lead me. You can tell me +or not, just as you want to, but I won't fool any longer!"</p> + +<p>He shoved the last few remaining things he had laid out into his valise +and snapped it with a vengeance. Then he grabbed his coat, which he had +laid off to work, picked up his gloves, and started out.</p> + +<p>"You can go to the deuce as far as I am concerned," he said, as he +reached the door. "I'm no sucker," and with that he opened it with a +jerk and closed it equally vigorously.</p> + +<p>Carrie listened at her window view, more astonished than anything else +at this sudden rise of passion in the drummer. She could hardly believe +her senses—so good-natured and tractable had he invariably been. It was +not for her to see the wellspring of human passion. A real flame of love +is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward to +fairylands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the +quality upon which it feeds.<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><br /> +<small>ASHES OF TINDER: A FACE AT THE WINDOW</small></h2> + +<p>That night Hurstwood remained down town entirely, going to the Palmer +House for a bed after his work was through. He was in a fevered state of +mind, owing to the blight his wife's action threatened to cast upon his +entire future. While he was not sure how much significance might be +attached to the threat she had made, he was sure that her attitude, if +long continued, would cause him no end of trouble. She was determined, +and had worsted him in a very important contest. How would it be from +now on? He walked the floor of his little office, and later that of his +room, putting one thing and another together to no avail.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood, on the contrary, had decided not to lose her advantage +by inaction. Now that she had practically cowed him, she would follow up +her work with demands, the acknowledgment of which would make her word +law in the future. He would have to pay her the money which she would +now regularly demand or there would be trouble. It did not matter what +he did. She really did not care whether he came home any more or not. +The household would move along much more pleasantly without him, and she +could do as she wished without consulting any one. Now she proposed to +consult a lawyer and hire a detective. She would find out at once just +what advantages she could gain.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood walked the floor, mentally arranging the chief points of his +situation. "She has that property in<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a> her name," he kept saying to +himself. "What a fool trick that was. Curse it! What a fool move that +was."</p> + +<p>He also thought of his managerial position. "If she raises a row now +I'll lose this thing. They won't have me around if my name gets in the +papers. My friends, too!" He grew more angry as he thought of the talk +any action on her part would create. How would the papers talk about it? +Every man he knew would be wondering. He would have to explain and deny +and make a general mark of himself. Then Moy would come and confer with +him and there would be the devil to pay.</p> + +<p>Many little wrinkles gathered between his eyes as he contemplated this, +and his brow moistened. He saw no solution of anything—not a loophole +left.</p> + +<p>Through all this thoughts of Carrie flashed upon him, and the +approaching affair of Saturday. Tangled as all his matters were, he did +not worry over that. It was the one pleasing thing in this whole rout of +trouble. He could arrange that satisfactorily, for Carrie would be glad +to wait, if necessary. He would see how things turned out to-morrow, and +then he would talk to her. They were going to meet as usual. He saw only +her pretty face and neat figure and wondered why life was not arranged +so that such joy as he found with her could be steadily maintained. How +much more pleasant it would be. Then he would take up his wife's threat +again, and the wrinkles and moisture would return.</p> + +<p>In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened his mail, but +there was nothing in it outside the ordinary run. For some reason he +felt as if something might come that way, and was relieved when all the +envelopes had been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began to +feel the appetite that had been wanting before he had reached the +office, and decided before going out to the park to meet Carrie to drop +in at the Grand Pacific and<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a> have a pot of coffee and some rolls. While +the danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialised, and with +him no news was good news. If he could only get plenty of time to think, +perhaps something would turn up. Surely, surely, this thing would not +drift along to catastrophe and he not find a way out.</p> + +<p>His spirits fell, however, when, upon reaching the park, he waited and +waited and Carrie did not come. He held his favourite post for an hour +or more, then arose and began to walk about restlessly. Could something +have happened out there to keep her away? Could she have been reached by +his wife? Surely not. So little did he consider Drouet that it never +once occurred to him to worry about his finding out. He grew restless as +he ruminated, and then decided that perhaps it was nothing. She had not +been able to get away this morning. That was why no letter notifying him +had come. He would get one to-day. It would probably be on his desk when +he got back. He would look for it at once.</p> + +<p>After a time he gave up waiting and drearily headed for the Madison car. +To add to his distress, the bright blue sky became overcast with little +fleecy clouds which shut out the sun. The wind veered to the east, and +by the time he reached his office it was threatening to drizzle all +afternoon.</p> + +<p>He went in and examined his letters, but there was nothing from Carrie. +Fortunately, there was nothing from his wife either. He thanked his +stars that he did not have to confront that proposition just now when he +needed to think so much. He walked the floor again, pretending to be in +an ordinary mood, but secretly troubled beyond the expression of words.</p> + +<p>At one-thirty he went to Rector's for lunch, and when he returned a +messenger was waiting for him. He looked at the little chap with a +feeling of doubt.<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm to bring an answer," said the boy.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood recognised his wife's writing. He tore it open and read +without a show of feeling. It began in the most formal manner and was +sharply and coldly worded throughout.</p> + +<p>"I want you to send the money I asked for at once. I need it to carry +out my plans. You can stay away if you want to. It doesn't matter in the +least. But I must have some money. So don't delay, but send it by the +boy."</p> + +<p>When he had finished it, he stood holding it in his hands. The audacity +of the thing took his breath. It roused his ire also—the deepest +element of revolt in him. His first impulse was to write but four words +in reply—"Go to the devil!"—but he compromised by telling the boy that +there would be no reply. Then he sat down in his chair and gazed without +seeing, contemplating the result of his work. What would she do about +that? The confounded wretch! Was she going to try to bulldoze him into +submission? He would go up there and have it out with her, that's what +he would do. She was carrying things with too high a hand. These were +his first thoughts.</p> + +<p>Later, however, his old discretion asserted itself. Something had to be +done. A climax was near and she would not sit idle. He knew her well +enough to know that when she had decided upon a plan she would follow it +up. Possibly matters would go into a lawyer's hands at once.</p> + +<p>"Damn her!" he said softly, with his teeth firmly set, "I'll make it hot +for her if she causes me trouble. I'll make her change her tone if I +have to use force to do it!"</p> + +<p>He arose from his chair and went and looked out into the street. The +long drizzle had begun. Pedestrians had turned up collars, and trousers +at the bottom. Hands<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> were hidden in the pockets of the umbrellaless; +umbrellas were up. The street looked like a sea of round black cloth +roofs, twisting, bobbing, moving. Trucks and vans were rattling in a +noisy line and everywhere men were shielding themselves as best they +could. He scarcely noticed the picture. He was forever confronting his +wife, demanding of her to change her attitude toward him before he +worked her bodily harm.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock another note came, which simply said that if the money +was not forthcoming that evening the matter would be laid before +Fitzgerald and Moy on the morrow, and other steps would be taken to get +it.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood almost exclaimed out loud at the insistency of this thing. +Yes, he would send her the money. He'd take it to her—he would go up +there and have a talk with her, and that at once.</p> + +<p>He put on his hat and looked around for his umbrella. He would have some +arrangement of this thing.</p> + +<p>He called a cab and was driven through the dreary rain to the North +Side. On the way his temper cooled as he thought of the details of the +case. What did she know? What had she done? Maybe she'd got hold of +Carrie, who knows—or—or Drouet. Perhaps she really had evidence, and +was prepared to fell him as a man does another from secret ambush. She +was shrewd. Why should she taunt him this way unless she had good +grounds?</p> + +<p>He began to wish that he had compromised in some way or other—that he +had sent the money. Perhaps he could do it up here. He would go in and +see, anyhow. He would have no row.</p> + +<p>By the time he reached his own street he was keenly alive to the +difficulties of his situation and wished over and over that some +solution would offer itself, that he could see his way out. He alighted +and went up the steps to<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a> the front door, but it was with a nervous +palpitation of the heart. He pulled out his key and tried to insert it, +but another key was on the inside. He shook at the knob, but the door +was locked. Then he rang the bell. No answer. He rang again—this time +harder. Still no answer. He jangled it fiercely several times in +succession, but without avail. Then he went below.</p> + +<p>There was a door which opened under the steps into the kitchen, +protected by an iron grating, intended as a safeguard against burglars. +When he reached this he noticed that it also was bolted and that the +kitchen windows were down. What could it mean? He rang the bell and then +waited. Finally, seeing that no one was coming, he turned and went back +to his cab.</p> + +<p>"I guess they've gone out," he said apologetically to the individual who +was hiding his red face in a loose tarpaulin rain-coat.</p> + +<p>"I saw a young girl up in that winder," returned the cabby.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood looked, but there was no face there now. He climbed moodily +into the cab, relieved and distressed.</p> + +<p>So this was the game, was it? Shut him out and make him pay. Well, by +the Lord, that did beat all!<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><br /> +<small>ASHES OF TINDER: THE LOOSING OF STAYS</small></h2> + +<p>When Hurstwood got back to his office again he was in a greater quandary +than ever. Lord, Lord, he thought, what had he got into? How could +things have taken such a violent turn, and so quickly? He could hardly +realise how it had all come about. It seemed a monstrous, unnatural, +unwarranted condition which had suddenly descended upon him without his +let or hindrance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. What could be the +trouble in that quarter? No letter had come, no word of any kind, and +yet here it was late in the evening and she had agreed to meet him that +morning. To-morrow they were to have met and gone off—where? He saw +that in the excitement of recent events he had not formulated a plan +upon that score. He was desperately in love, and would have taken great +chances to win her under ordinary circumstances, but now—now what? +Supposing she had found out something? Supposing she, too, wrote him and +told him that she knew all—that she would have nothing more to do with +him? It would be just like this to happen as things were going now. +Meanwhile he had not sent the money.</p> + +<p>He strolled up and down the polished floor of the resort, his hands in +his pockets, his brow wrinkled, his mouth set. He was getting some vague +comfort out of a good cigar, but it was no panacea for the ill which +affected him. Every once in a while he would clinch his fingers<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> and tap +his foot—signs of the stirring mental process he was undergoing. His +whole nature was vigorously and powerfully shaken up, and he was finding +what limits the mind has to endurance. He drank more brandy and soda +than he had any evening in months. He was altogether a fine example of +great mental perturbation.</p> + +<p>For all his study nothing came of the evening except this—he sent the +money. It was with great opposition, after two or three hours of the +most urgent mental affirmation and denial, that at last he got an +envelope, placed in it the requested amount, and slowly sealed it up.</p> + +<p>Then he called Harry, the boy of all work around the place.</p> + +<p>"You take this to this address," he said, handing him the envelope, "and +give it to Mrs. Hurstwood."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"If she isn't there bring it back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You've seen my wife?" he asked as a precautionary measure as the boy +turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir. I know her."</p> + +<p>"All right, now. Hurry right back."</p> + +<p>"Any answer?"</p> + +<p>"I guess not."</p> + +<p>The boy hastened away and the manager fell to his musings. Now he had +done it. There was no use speculating over that. He was beaten for +to-night and he might just as well make the best of it. But, oh, the +wretchedness of being forced this way! He could see her meeting the boy +at the door and smiling sardonically. She would take the envelope and +know that she had triumphed. If he only had that letter back he wouldn't +send it. He breathed heavily and wiped the moisture from his face.</p> + +<p>For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with a few friends who +were drinking. He tried to get the interest<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> of things about him, but it +was not to be. All the time his thoughts would run out to his home and +see the scene being therein enacted. All the time he was wondering what +she would say when the boy handed her the envelope.</p> + +<p>In about an hour and three-quarters the boy returned. He had evidently +delivered the package, for, as he came up, he made no sign of taking +anything out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"I gave it to her."</p> + +<p>"My wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Any answer?"</p> + +<p>"She said it was high time."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood scowled fiercely.</p> + +<p>There was no more to be done upon that score that night. He went on +brooding over his situation until midnight, when he repaired again to +the Palmer House. He wondered what the morning would bring forth, and +slept anything but soundly upon it.</p> + +<p>Next day he went again to the office and opened his mail, suspicious and +hopeful of its contents. No word from Carrie. Nothing from his wife, +which was pleasant.</p> + +<p>The fact that he had sent the money and that she had received it worked +to the ease of his mind, for, as the thought that he had done it +receded, his chagrin at it grew less and his hope of peace more. He +fancied, as he sat at his desk, that nothing would be done for a week or +two. Meanwhile, he would have time to think.</p> + +<p>This process of <i>thinking</i> began by a reversion to Carrie and the +arrangement by which he was to get her away from Drouet. How about that +now? His pain at her failure to meet or write him rapidly increased as +he devoted himself to this subject. He decided to write her care of the +West Side Post-office and ask for an explanation,<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> as well as to have +her meet him. The thought that this letter would probably not reach her +until Monday chafed him exceedingly. He must get some speedier +method—but how?</p> + +<p>He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating a messenger or a +cab direct to the house, owing to the exposure of it, but finding that +time was slipping away to no purpose, he wrote the letter and then began +to think again.</p> + +<p>The hours slipped by, and with them the possibility of the union he had +contemplated. He had thought to be joyously aiding Carrie by now in the +task of joining her interests to his, and here it was afternoon and +nothing done. Three o'clock came, four, five, six, and no letter. The +helpless manager paced the floor and grimly endured the gloom of defeat. +He saw a busy Saturday ushered out, the Sabbath in, and nothing done. +All day, the bar being closed, he brooded alone, shut out from home, +from the excitement of his resort, from Carrie, and without the ability +to alter his condition one iota. It was the worst Sunday he had spent in +his life.</p> + +<p>In Monday's second mail he encountered a very legal-looking letter, +which held his interest for some time. It bore the imprint of the law +offices of McGregor, James and Hay, and with a very formal "Dear Sir," +and "We beg to state," went on to inform him briefly that they had been +retained by Mrs. Julia Hurstwood to adjust certain matters which related +to her sustenance and property rights, and would he kindly call and see +them about the matter at once.</p> + +<p>He read it through carefully several times, and then merely shook his +head. It seemed as if his family troubles were just beginning.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he said after a time, quite audibly, "I don't know."<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a></p> + +<p>Then he folded it up and put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>To add to his misery there was no word from Carrie. He was quite certain +now that she knew he was married and was angered at his perfidy. His +loss seemed all the more bitter now that he needed her most. He thought +he would go out and insist on seeing her if she did not send him word of +some sort soon. He was really affected most miserably of all by this +desertion. He had loved her earnestly enough, but now that the +possibility of losing her stared him in the face she seemed much more +attractive. He really pined for a word, and looked out upon her with his +mind's eye in the most wistful manner. He did not propose to lose her, +whatever she might think. Come what might, he would adjust this matter, +and soon. He would go to her and tell her all his family complications. +He would explain to her just where he stood and how much he needed her. +Surely she couldn't go back on him now? It wasn't possible. He would +plead until her anger would melt—until she would forgive him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he thought: "Supposing she isn't out there—suppose she has +gone?"</p> + +<p>He was forced to take his feet. It was too much to think of and sit +still.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday it was the same way. He did manage to bring himself into the +mood to go out to Carrie, but when he got in Ogden Place he thought he +saw a man watching him and went away. He did not go within a block of +the house.</p> + +<p>One of the galling incidents of this visit was that he came back on a +Randolph Street car, and without noticing arrived almost opposite the +building of the concern with which his son was connected. This sent a +pang through his heart. He had called on his boy there several times. +Now the lad had not sent him a word. His absence did<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a> not seem to be +noticed by either of his children. Well, well, fortune plays a man queer +tricks. He got back to his office and joined in a conversation with +friends. It was as if idle chatter deadened the sense of misery.</p> + +<p>That night he dined at Rector's and returned at once to his office. In +the bustle and show of the latter was his only relief. He troubled over +many little details and talked perfunctorily to everybody. He stayed at +his desk long after all others had gone, and only quitted it when the +night watchman on his round pulled at the front door to see if it was +safely locked.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday he received another polite note from McGregor, James and +Hay. It read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Dear Sir</i>: We beg to inform you that we are instructed to wait +until to-morrow (Thursday) at one o'clock, before filing suit +against you, on behalf of Mrs. Julia Hurstwood, for divorce and +alimony. If we do not hear from you before that time we shall +consider that you do not wish to compromise the matter in any way +and act accordingly.</p> + +<p class="r2">"Very truly yours, etc."</p></div> + +<p>"Compromise!" exclaimed Hurstwood bitterly. "Compromise!"</p> + +<p>Again he shook his head.</p> + +<p>So here it was spread out clear before him, and now he knew what to +expect. If he didn't go and see them they would sue him promptly. If he +did, he would be offered terms that would make his blood boil. He folded +the letter and put it with the other one. Then he put on his hat and +went for a turn about the block.<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /><br /> +<small>THE AMBASSADOR FALLEN: A SEARCH FOR THE GATE</small></h2> + +<p>Carrie, left alone by Drouet, listened to his retreating steps, scarcely +realising what had happened. She knew that he had stormed out. It was +some moments before she questioned whether he would return, not now +exactly, but ever. She looked around her upon the rooms, out of which +the evening light was dying, and wondered why she did not feel quite the +same towards them. She went over to the dresser and struck a match, +lighting the gas. Then she went back to the rocker to think.</p> + +<p>It was some time before she could collect her thoughts, but when she +did, this truth began to take on importance. She was quite alone. +Suppose Drouet did not come back? Suppose she should never hear anything +more of him? This fine arrangement of chambers would not last long. She +would have to quit them.</p> + +<p>To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on Hurstwood. She +could only approach that subject with a pang of sorrow and regret. For a +truth, she was rather shocked and frightened by this evidence of human +depravity. He would have tricked her without turning an eyelash. She +would have been led into a newer and worse situation. And yet she could +not keep out the pictures of his looks and manners. Only this one deed +seemed strange and miserable. It contrasted sharply with all she felt +and knew concerning the man.</p> + +<p>But she was alone. That was the greater thought just at present. How +about that? Would she go out to<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> work again? Would she begin to look +around in the business district? The stage! Oh, yes. Drouet had spoken +about that. Was there any hope there? She moved to and fro, in deep and +varied thoughts, while the minutes slipped away and night fell +completely. She had had nothing to eat, and yet there she sat, thinking +it over.</p> + +<p>She remembered that she was hungry and went to the little cupboard in +the rear room where were the remains of one of their breakfasts. She +looked at these things with certain misgivings. The contemplation of +food had more significance than usual.</p> + +<p>While she was eating she began to wonder how much money she had. It +struck her as exceedingly important, and without ado she went to look +for her purse. It was on the dresser, and in it were seven dollars in +bills and some change. She quailed as she thought of the insignificance +of the amount and rejoiced because the rent was paid until the end of +the month. She began also to think what she would have done if she had +gone out into the street when she first started. By the side of that +situation, as she looked at it now, the present seemed agreeable. She +had a little time at least, and then, perhaps, everything would come out +all right, after all.</p> + +<p>Drouet had gone, but what of it? He did not seem seriously angry. He +only acted as if he were huffy. He would come back—of course he would. +There was his cane in the corner. Here was one of his collars. He had +left his light overcoat in the wardrobe. She looked about and tried to +assure herself with the sight of a dozen such details, but, alas, the +secondary thought arrived. Supposing he did come back. Then what?</p> + +<p>Here was another proposition nearly, if not quite, as disturbing. She +would have to talk with and explain to him. He would want her to admit +that he was right. It would be impossible for her to live with him.<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a></p> + +<p>On Friday Carrie remembered her appointment with Hurstwood, and the +passing of the hour when she should, by all right of promise, have been +in his company served to keep the calamity which had befallen her +exceedingly fresh and clear. In her nervousness and stress of mind she +felt it necessary to act, and consequently put on a brown street dress, +and at eleven o'clock started to visit the business portion once again. +She must look for work.</p> + +<p>The rain, which threatened at twelve and began at one, served equally +well to cause her to retrace her steps and remain within doors as it did +to reduce Hurstwood's spirits and give him a wretched day.</p> + +<p>The morrow was Saturday, a half-holiday in many business quarters, and +besides it was a balmy, radiant day, with the trees and grass shining +exceedingly green after the rain of the night before. When she went out +the sparrows were twittering merrily in joyous choruses. She could not +help feeling, as she looked across the lovely park, that life was a +joyous thing for those who did not need to worry, and she wished over +and over that something might interfere now to preserve for her the +comfortable state which she had occupied. She did not want Drouet or his +money when she thought of it, nor anything more to do with Hurstwood, +but only the content and ease of mind she had experienced, for, after +all, she had been happy—happier, at least, than she was now when +confronted by the necessity of making her way alone.</p> + +<p>When she arrived in the business part it was quite eleven o'clock, and +the business had little longer to run. She did not realise this at +first, being affected by some of the old distress which was a result of +her earlier adventure into this strenuous and exacting quarter. She +wandered about, assuring herself that she was making up her mind to look +for something, and at the same time feeling that<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a> perhaps it was not +necessary to be in such haste about it. The thing was difficult to +encounter, and she had a few days. Besides, she was not sure that she +was really face to face again with the bitter problem of +self-sustenance. Anyhow, there was one change for the better. She knew +that she had improved in appearance. Her manner had vastly changed. Her +clothes were becoming, and men—well-dressed men, some of the kind who +before had gazed at her indifferently from behind their polished +railings and imposing office partitions—now gazed into her face with a +soft light in their eyes. In a way, she felt the power and satisfaction +of the thing, but it did not wholly reassure her. She looked for nothing +save what might come legitimately and without the appearance of special +favour. She wanted something, but no man should buy her by false +protestations or favour. She proposed to earn her living honestly.</p> + +<p>"This store closes at one on Saturdays," was a pleasing and satisfactory +legend to see upon doors which she felt she ought to enter and inquire +for work. It gave her an excuse, and after encountering quite a number +of them, and noting that the clock registered 12.15, she decided that it +would be no use to seek further to-day, so she got on a car and went to +Lincoln Park. There was always something to see there—the flowers, the +animals, the lake—and she flattered herself that on Monday she would be +up betimes and searching. Besides, many things might happen between now +and Monday.</p> + +<p>Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heaven knows +what vagaries of mind and spirit. Every half-hour in the day the thought +would come to her most sharply, like the tail of a swishing whip, that +action—immediate action—was imperative. At other times she would look +about her and assure herself that things were not so bad—that certainly +she would come out safe and<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> sound. At such times she would think of +Drouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw some chance for +herself in that quarter. She decided to take up that opportunity on the +morrow.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and dressed herself +carefully. She did not know just how such applications were made, but +she took it to be a matter which related more directly to the theatre +buildings. All you had to do was to inquire of some one about the +theatre for the manager and ask for a position. If there was anything, +you might get it, or, at least, he could tell you how.</p> + +<p>She had had no experience with this class of individuals whatsoever, and +did not know the salacity and humour of the theatrical tribe. She only +knew of the position which Mr. Hale occupied, but, of all things, she +did not wish to encounter that personage, on account of her intimacy +with his wife.</p> + +<p>There was, however, at this time, one theatre, the Chicago Opera House, +which was considerably in the public eye, and its manager, David A. +Henderson, had a fair local reputation. Carrie had seen one or two +elaborate performances there and had heard of several others. She knew +nothing of Henderson nor of the methods of applying, but she +instinctively felt that this would be a likely place, and accordingly +strolled about in that neighbourhood. She came bravely enough to the +showy entrance way, with the polished and begilded lobby, set with +framed pictures out of the current attraction, leading up to the quiet +box-office, but she could get no further. A noted comic opera comedian +was holding forth that week, and the air of distinction and prosperity +overawed her. She could not imagine that there would be anything in such +a lofty sphere for her. She almost trembled at the audacity which might +have carried her on to a terrible<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> rebuff. She could find heart only to +look at the pictures which were showy and then walk out. It seemed to +her as if she had made a splendid escape and that it would be foolhardy +to think of applying in that quarter again.</p> + +<p>This little experience settled her hunting for one day. She looked +around elsewhere, but it was from the outside. She got the location of +several playhouses fixed in her mind—notably the Grand Opera House and +McVickar's, both of which were leading in attractions—and then came +away. Her spirits were materially reduced, owing to the newly restored +sense of magnitude of the great interests and the insignificance of her +claims upon society, such as she understood them to be.</p> + +<p>That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter and protracted +stay made it impossible to dwell upon her predicament or the fortune of +the day. Before retiring, however, she sat down to think, and gave +herself up to the most gloomy forebodings. Drouet had not put in an +appearance. She had had no word from any quarter, she had spent a dollar +of her precious sum in procuring food and paying car fare. It was +evident that she would not endure long. Besides, she had discovered no +resource.</p> + +<p>In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in Van Buren +Street, whom she had not seen since the night of her flight, and to her +home at Columbia City, which seemed now a part of something that could +not be again. She looked for no refuge in that direction. Nothing but +sorrow was brought her by thoughts of Hurstwood, which would return. +That he could have chosen to dupe her in so ready a manner seemed a +cruel thing.</p> + +<p>Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and speculation. She +was in no mood, after her failure of the day before, to hasten forth +upon her work-seeking errand, and yet she rebuked herself for what she +considered her weakness the day before. Accordingly she started out to<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a> +revisit the Chicago Opera House, but possessed scarcely enough courage +to approach.</p> + +<p>She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however.</p> + +<p>"Manager of the company or the house?" asked the smartly dressed +individual who took care of the tickets. He was favourably impressed by +Carrie's looks.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie, taken back by the question.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow," volunteered +the young man. "He's out of town."</p> + +<p>He noted her puzzled look, and then added: "What is it you wish to see +about?"</p> + +<p>"I want to see about getting a position," she answered.</p> + +<p>"You'd better see the manager of the company," he returned, "but he +isn't here now."</p> + +<p>"When will he be in?" asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by this +information.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve. He's here after +two o'clock."</p> + +<p>Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young man gazed +after her through one of the side windows of his gilded coop.</p> + +<p>"Good-looking," he said to himself, and proceeded to visions of +condescensions on her part which were exceedingly flattering to himself.</p> + +<p>One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing an +engagement at the Grand Opera House. Here Carrie asked to see the +manager of the company. She little knew the trivial authority of this +individual, or that had there been a vacancy an actor would have been +sent on from New York to fill it.</p> + +<p>"His office is upstairs," said a man in the box-office.</p> + +<p>Several persons were in the manager's office, two lounging near a +window, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-top desk—the +manager. Carrie glanced<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a> nervously about, and began to fear that she +should have to make her appeal before the assembled company, two of +whom—the occupants of the window—were already observing her carefully.</p> + +<p>"I can't do it," the manager was saying; "it's a rule of Mr. Frohman's +never to allow visitors back of the stage. No, no!"</p> + +<p>Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but no one motioned +her to be seated. The individual to whom the manager had been talking +went away quite crestfallen. That luminary gazed earnestly at some +papers before him, as if they were of the greatest concern.</p> + +<p>"Did you see that in the 'Herald' this morning about Nat Goodwin, +Harris?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the person addressed. "What was it?"</p> + +<p>"Made quite a curtain address at Hooley's last night. Better look it +up."</p> + +<p>Harris reached over to a table and began to look for the "Herald."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said the manager to Carrie, apparently noticing her for +the first time. He thought he was going to be held up for free tickets.</p> + +<p>Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at best. She +realised that she was a novice, and felt as if a rebuff were certain. Of +this she was so sure that she only wished now to pretend she had called +for advice.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me how to go about getting on the stage?"</p> + +<p>It was the best way after all to have gone about the matter. She was +interesting, in a manner, to the occupant of the chair, and the +simplicity of her request and attitude took his fancy. He smiled, as did +the others in the room, who, however, made some slight effort to conceal +their humour.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he answered, looking her brazenly<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> over. "Have you ever +had any experience upon the stage?"</p> + +<p>"A little," answered Carrie. "I have taken part in amateur +performances."</p> + +<p>She thought she had to make some sort of showing in order to retain his +interest.</p> + +<p>"Never studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an air intended as +much to impress his friends with his discretion as Carrie.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," he answered, tipping lazily back in his chair +while she stood before him. "What makes you want to get on the stage?"</p> + +<p>She felt abashed at the man's daring, but could only smile in answer to +his engaging smirk, and say:</p> + +<p>"I need to make a living."</p> + +<p>"Oh," he answered, rather taken by her trim appearance, and feeling as +if he might scrape up an acquaintance with her. "That's a good reason, +isn't it? Well, Chicago is not a good place for what you want to do. You +ought to be in New York. There's more chance there. You could hardly +expect to get started out here."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled genially, grateful that he should condescend to advise her +even so much. He noticed the smile, and put a slightly different +construction on it. He thought he saw an easy chance for a little +flirtation.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he said, pulling a chair forward from the side of his desk +and dropping his voice so that the two men in the room should not hear. +Those two gave each other the suggestion of a wink.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be going, Barney," said one, breaking away and so addressing +the manager. "See you this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the manager.</p> + +<p>The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read.<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a></p> + +<p>"Did you have any idea what sort of part you would like to get?" asked +the manager softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Carrie. "I would take anything to begin with."</p> + +<p>"I see," he said. "Do you live here in the city?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The manager smiled most blandly.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever tried to get in as a chorus girl?" he asked, assuming a +more confidential air.</p> + +<p>Carrie began to feel that there was something exuberant and unnatural in +his manner.</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"That's the way most girls begin," he went on, "who go on the stage. +It's a good way to get experience."</p> + +<p>He was turning on her a glance of the companionable and persuasive +manner.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"It's a difficult thing," he went on, "but there's always a chance, you +know." Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he pulled out his watch and +consulted it. "I've an appointment at two," he said, "and I've got to go +to lunch now. Would you care to come and dine with me? We can talk it +over there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Carrie, the whole motive of the man flashing on her at +once. "I have an engagement myself."</p> + +<p>"That's too bad," he said, realising that he had been a little +beforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about to go away. "Come in +later. I may know of something."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered, with some trepidation, and went out.</p> + +<p>"She was good-looking, wasn't she?" said the manager's companion, who +had not caught all the details of the game he had played.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a way," said the other, sore to think the game<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a> had been lost. +"She'd never make an actress, though. Just another chorus girl—that's +all."</p> + +<p>This little experience nearly destroyed her ambition to call upon the +manager at the Chicago Opera House, but she decided to do so after a +time. He was of a more sedate turn of mind. He said at once that there +was no opening of any sort, and seemed to consider her search foolish.</p> + +<p>"Chicago is no place to get a start," he said. "You ought to be in New +York."</p> + +<p>Still she persisted, and went to McVickar's, where she could not find +any one. "The Old Homestead" was running there, but the person to whom +she was referred was not to be found.</p> + +<p>These little expeditions took up her time until quite four o'clock, when +she was weary enough to go home. She felt as if she ought to continue +and inquire elsewhere, but the results so far were too dispiriting. She +took the car and arrived at Ogden Place in three-quarters of an hour, +but decided to ride on to the West Side branch of the Post-office, where +she was accustomed to receive Hurstwood's letters. There was one there +now, written Saturday, which she tore open and read with mingled +feelings. There was so much warmth in it and such tense complaint at her +having failed to meet him, and her subsequent silence, that she rather +pitied the man. That he loved her was evident enough. That he had wished +and dared to do so, married as he was, was the evil. She felt as if the +thing deserved an answer, and consequently decided that she would write +and let him know that she knew of his married state and was justly +incensed at his deception. She would tell him that it was all over +between them.</p> + +<p>At her room, the wording of this missive occupied her for some time, for +she fell to the task at once. It was most difficult.<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"You do not need to have me explain why I did not meet you," she +wrote in part. "How could you deceive me so? You cannot expect me +to have anything more to do with you. I wouldn't under any +circumstances. Oh, how could you act so?" she added in a burst of +feeling. "You have caused me more misery than you can think. I hope +you will get over your infatuation for me. We must not meet any +more. Good-bye."</p></div> + +<p>She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner dropped it +reluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain as to whether she +should do so or not. Then she took the car and went down town.</p> + +<p>This was the dull season with the department stores, but she was +listened to with more consideration than was usually accorded to young +women applicants, owing to her neat and attractive appearance. She was +asked the same old questions with which she was already familiar.</p> + +<p>"What can you do? Have you ever worked in a retail store before? Are you +experienced?"</p> + +<p>At The Fair, See and Company's, and all the great stores it was much the +same. It was the dull season, she might come in a little later, possibly +they would like to have her.</p> + +<p>When she arrived at the house at the end of the day, weary and +disheartened, she discovered that Drouet had been there. His umbrella +and light overcoat were gone. She thought she missed other things, but +could not be sure. Everything had not been taken.</p> + +<p>So his going was crystallising into staying. What was she to do now? +Evidently she would be facing the world in the same old way within a day +or two. Her clothes would get poor. She put her two hands together in +her customary expressive way and pressed her fingers. Large tears +gathered in her eyes and broke hot across her cheeks. She was alone, +very much alone.</p> + +<p>Drouet really had called, but it was with a very different<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> mind from +that which Carrie had imagined. He expected to find her, to justify his +return by claiming that he came to get the remaining portion of his +wardrobe, and before he got away again to patch up a peace.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, when he arrived, he was disappointed to find Carrie out. He +trifled about, hoping that she was somewhere in the neighbourhood and +would soon return. He constantly listened, expecting to hear her foot on +the stair.</p> + +<p>When he did so, it was his intention to make believe that he had just +come in and was disturbed at being caught. Then he would explain his +need of his clothes and find out how things stood.</p> + +<p>Wait as he did, however, Carrie did not come. From pottering around +among the drawers, in momentary expectation of her arrival, he changed +to looking out of the window, and from that to resting himself in the +rocking-chair. Still no Carrie. He began to grow restless and lit a +cigar. After that he walked the floor. Then he looked out of the window +and saw clouds gathering. He remembered an appointment at three. He +began to think that it would be useless to wait, and got hold of his +umbrella and light coat, intending to take these things, any way. It +would scare her, he hoped. To-morrow he would come back for the others. +He would find out how things stood.</p> + +<p>As he started to go he felt truly sorry that he had missed her. There +was a little picture of her on the wall, showing her arrayed in the +little jacket he had first bought her—her face a little more wistful +than he had seen it lately. He was really touched by it, and looked into +the eyes of it with a rather rare feeling for him.</p> + +<p>"You didn't do me right, Cad," he said, as if he were addressing her in +the flesh.</p> + +<p>Then he went to the door, took a good look around, and went out.<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /><br /> +<small>WHEN WATERS ENGULF US WE REACH FOR A STAR</small></h2> + +<p>It was when he returned from his disturbed stroll about the streets, +after receiving the decisive note from McGregor, James and Hay, that +Hurstwood found the letter Carrie had written him that morning. He +thrilled intensely as he noted the handwriting, and rapidly tore it +open.</p> + +<p>"Then," he thought, "she loves me or she would not have written to me at +all."</p> + +<p>He was slightly depressed at the tenor of the note for the first few +minutes, but soon recovered. "She wouldn't write at all if she didn't +care for me."</p> + +<p>This was his one resource against the depression which held him. He +could extract little from the wording of the letter, but the spirit he +thought he knew.</p> + +<p>There was really something exceedingly human—if not pathetic—in his +being thus relieved by a clearly worded reproof. He who had for so long +remained satisfied with himself now looked outside of himself for +comfort—and to such a source. The mystic cords of affection! How they +bind us all.</p> + +<p>The colour came to his cheeks. For the moment he forgot the letter from +McGregor, James and Hay. If he could only have Carrie, perhaps he could +get out of the whole entanglement—perhaps it would not matter. He +wouldn't care what his wife did with herself if only he might not lose +Carrie. He stood up and walked about,<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> dreaming his delightful dream of +a life continued with this lovely possessor of his heart.</p> + +<p>It was not long, however, before the old worry was back for +consideration, and with it what weariness! He thought of the morrow and +the suit. He had done nothing, and here was the afternoon slipping away. +It was now a quarter of four. At five the attorneys would have gone +home. He still had the morrow until noon. Even as he thought, the last +fifteen minutes passed away and it was five. Then he abandoned the +thought of seeing them any more that day and turned to Carrie.</p> + +<p>It is to be observed that the man did not justify himself to himself. He +was not troubling about that. His whole thought was the possibility of +persuading Carrie. Nothing was wrong in that. He loved her dearly. Their +mutual happiness depended upon it. Would that Drouet were only away!</p> + +<p>While he was thinking thus elatedly, he remembered that he wanted some +clean linen in the morning.</p> + +<p>This he purchased, together with a half-dozen ties, and went to the +Palmer House. As he entered he thought he saw Drouet ascending the +stairs with a key. Surely not Drouet! Then he thought, perhaps they had +changed their abode temporarily. He went straight up to the desk.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Drouet stopping here?" he asked of the clerk.</p> + +<p>"I think he is," said the latter, consulting his private registry list. +"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" exclaimed Hurstwood, otherwise concealing his +astonishment. "Alone?" he added.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the clerk.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood turned away and set his lips so as best to express and conceal +his feelings.</p> + +<p>"How's that?" he thought. "They've had a row."</p> + +<p>He hastened to his room with rising spirits and changed<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a> his linen. As +he did so, he made up his mind that if Carrie was alone, or if she had +gone to another place, it behooved him to find out. He decided to call +at once.</p> + +<p>"I know what I'll do," he thought. "I'll go to the door and ask if Mr. +Drouet is at home. That will bring out whether he is there or not and +where Carrie is."</p> + +<p>He was almost moved to some muscular display as he thought of it. He +decided to go immediately after supper.</p> + +<p>On coming down from his room at six, he looked carefully about to see if +Drouet was present and then went out to lunch. He could scarcely eat, +however, he was so anxious to be about his errand. Before starting he +thought it well to discover where Drouet would be, and returned to his +hotel.</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Drouet gone out?" he asked of the clerk.</p> + +<p>"No," answered the latter, "he's in his room. Do you wish to send up a +card?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'll call around later," answered Hurstwood, and strolled out.</p> + +<p>He took a Madison car and went direct to Ogden Place, this time walking +boldly up to the door. The chambermaid answered his knock.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Drouet in?" said Hurstwood blandly.</p> + +<p>"He is out of the city," said the girl, who had heard Carrie tell this +to Mrs. Hale.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Drouet in?"</p> + +<p>"No, she has gone to the theatre."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said Hurstwood, considerably taken back; then, as if +burdened with something important, "You don't know to which theatre?"</p> + +<p>The girl really had no idea where she had gone, but not liking +Hurstwood, and wishing to cause him trouble, answered: "Yes, Hooley's."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," returned the manager, and, tipping his hat slightly, went +away.<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a></p> + +<p>"I'll look in at Hooley's," thought he, but as a matter of fact he did +not. Before he had reached the central portion of the city he thought +the whole matter over and decided it would be useless. As much as he +longed to see Carrie, he knew she would be with some one and did not +wish to intrude with his plea there. A little later he might do so—in +the morning. Only in the morning he had the lawyer question before him.</p> + +<p>This little pilgrimage threw quite a wet blanket upon his rising +spirits. He was soon down again to his old worry, and reached the resort +anxious to find relief. Quite a company of gentlemen were making the +place lively with their conversation. A group of Cook County politicians +were conferring about a round cherry-wood table in the rear portion of +the room. Several young merry-makers were chattering at the bar before +making a belated visit to the theatre. A shabbily-genteel individual, +with a red nose and an old high hat, was sipping a quiet glass of ale +alone at one end of the bar. Hurstwood nodded to the politicians and +went into his office.</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock a friend of his, Mr. Frank L. Taintor, a local sport +and racing man, dropped in, and seeing Hurstwood alone in his office +came to the door.</p> + +<p>"Hello, George!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Frank?" said Hurstwood, somewhat relieved by the sight of +him. "Sit down," and he motioned him to one of the chairs in the little +room.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, George?" asked Taintor. "You look a little glum. +Haven't lost at the track, have you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not feeling very well to-night. I had a slight cold the other day."</p> + +<p>"Take whiskey, George," said Taintor. "You ought to know that."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood smiled.</p> + +<p>While they were still conferring there, several other of<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> Hurstwood's +friends entered, and not long after eleven, the theatres being out, some +actors began to drop in—among them some notabilities.</p> + +<p>Then began one of those pointless social conversations so common in +American resorts where the would-be <i>gilded</i> attempt to rub off gilt +from those who have it in abundance. If Hurstwood had one leaning, it +was toward notabilities. He considered that, if anywhere, he belonged +among them. He was too proud to toady, too keen not to strictly observe +the plane he occupied when there were those present who did not +appreciate him, but, in situations like the present, where he could +shine as a gentleman and be received without equivocation as a friend +and equal among men of known ability, he was most delighted. It was on +such occasions, if ever, that he would "take something." When the social +flavour was strong enough he would even unbend to the extent of drinking +glass for glass with his associates, punctiliously observing his turn to +pay as if he were an outsider like the others. If he ever approached +intoxication—or rather that ruddy warmth and comfortableness which +precedes the more sloven state—it was when individuals such as these +were gathered about him, when he was one of a circle of chatting +celebrities. To-night, disturbed as was his state, he was rather +relieved to find company, and now that notabilities were gathered, he +laid aside his troubles for the nonce, and joined in right heartily.</p> + +<p>It was not long before the imbibing began to tell. Stories began to crop +up—those ever-enduring, droll stories which form the major portion of +the conversation among American men under such circumstances.</p> + +<p>Twelve o'clock arrived, the hour for closing, and with it the company +took leave. Hurstwood shook hands with them most cordially. He was very +roseate physically. He had arrived at that state where his mind, though +clear,<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> was, nevertheless, warm in its fancies. He felt as if his +troubles were not very serious. Going into his office, he began to turn +over certain accounts, awaiting the departure of the bartenders and the +cashier, who soon left.</p> + +<p>It was the manager's duty, as well as his custom, after all were gone to +see that everything was safely closed up for the night. As a rule, no +money except the cash taken in after banking hours was kept about the +place, and that was locked in the safe by the cashier, who, with the +owners, was joint keeper of the secret combination, but, nevertheless, +Hurstwood nightly took the precaution to try the cash drawers and the +safe in order to see that they were tightly closed. Then he would lock +his own little office and set the proper light burning near the safe, +after which he would take his departure.</p> + +<p>Never in his experience had he found anything out of order, but +to-night, after shutting down his desk, he came out and tried the safe. +His way was to give a sharp pull. This time the door responded. He was +slightly surprised at that, and looking in found the money cases as left +for the day, apparently unprotected. His first thought was, of course, +to inspect the drawers and shut the door.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to Mayhew about this to-morrow," he thought.</p> + +<p>The latter had certainly imagined upon going out a half-hour before that +he had turned the knob on the door so as to spring the lock. He had +never failed to do so before. But to-night Mayhew had other thoughts. He +had been revolving the problem of a business of his own.</p> + +<p>"I'll look in here," thought the manager, pulling out the money drawers. +He did not know why he wished to look in there. It was quite a +superfluous action, which another time might not have happened at all.</p> + +<p>As he did so, a layer of bills, in parcels of a thousand, such as banks +issue, caught his eye. He could not tell<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> how much they represented, but +paused to view them. Then he pulled out the second of the cash drawers. +In that were the receipts of the day.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know Fitzgerald and Moy ever left any money this way," his +mind said to itself. "They must have forgotten it."</p> + +<p>He looked at the other drawer and paused again.</p> + +<p>"Count them," said a voice in his ear.</p> + +<p>He put his hand into the first of the boxes and lifted the stack, +letting the separate parcels fall. They were bills of fifty and one +hundred dollars done in packages of a thousand. He thought he counted +ten such.</p> + +<p>"Why don't I shut the safe?" his mind said to itself, lingering. "What +makes me pause here?"</p> + +<p>For answer there came the strangest words:</p> + +<p>"Did you ever have ten thousand dollars in ready money?"</p> + +<p>Lo, the manager remembered that he had never had so much. All his +property had been slowly accumulated, and now his wife owned that. He +was worth more than forty thousand, all told—but she would get that.</p> + +<p>He puzzled as he thought of these things, then pushed in the drawers and +closed the door, pausing with his hand upon the knob, which might so +easily lock it all beyond temptation. Still he paused. Finally he went +to the windows and pulled down the curtains. Then he tried the door, +which he had previously locked. What was this thing, making him +suspicious? Why did he wish to move about so quietly. He came back to +the end of the counter as if to rest his arm and think. Then he went and +unlocked his little office door and turned on the light. He also opened +his desk, sitting down before it, only to think strange thoughts.</p> + +<p>"The safe is open," said a voice. "There is just the least little crack +in it. The lock has not been sprung."<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a></p> + +<p>The manager floundered among a jumble of thoughts. Now all the +entanglement of the day came back. Also the thought that here was a +solution. That money would do it. If he had that and Carrie. He rose up +and stood stock-still, looking at the floor.</p> + +<p>"What about it?" his mind asked, and for answer he put his hand slowly +up and scratched his head.</p> + +<p>The manager was no fool to be led blindly away by such an errant +proposition as this, but his situation was peculiar. Wine was in his +veins. It had crept up into his head and given him a warm view of the +situation. It also coloured the possibilities of ten thousand for him. +He could see great opportunities with that. He could get Carrie. Oh, +yes, he could! He could get rid of his wife. That letter, too, was +waiting discussion to-morrow morning. He would not need to answer that. +He went back to the safe and put his hand on the knob. Then he pulled +the door open and took the drawer with the money quite out.</p> + +<p>With it once out and before him, it seemed a foolish thing to think +about leaving it. Certainly it would. Why, he could live quietly with +Carrie for years.</p> + +<p>Lord! what was that? For the first time he was tense, as if a stern hand +had been laid upon his shoulder. He looked fearfully around. Not a soul +was present. Not a sound. Some one was shuffling by on the sidewalk. He +took the box and the money and put it back in the safe. Then he partly +closed the door again.</p> + +<p>To those who have never wavered in conscience, the predicament of the +individual whose mind is less strongly constituted and who trembles in +the balance between duty and desire is scarcely appreciable, unless +graphically portrayed. Those who have never heard that solemn voice of +the ghostly clock which ticks with awful distinctness, "thou shalt," +"thou shalt not," "thou shalt," "thou shalt<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> not," are in no position to +judge. Not alone in sensitive, highly organised natures is such a mental +conflict possible. The dullest specimen of humanity, when drawn by +desire toward evil, is recalled by a sense of right, which is +proportionate in power and strength to his evil tendency. We must +remember that it may not be a knowledge of right, for no knowledge of +right is predicated of the animal's instinctive recoil at evil. Men are +still led by instinct before they are regulated by knowledge. It is +instinct which recalls the criminal—it is instinct (where highly +organised reasoning is absent) which gives the criminal his feeling of +danger, his fear of wrong.</p> + +<p>At every first adventure, then, into some untried evil, the mind wavers. +The clock of thought ticks out its wish and its denial. To those who +have never experienced such a mental dilemma, the following will appeal +on the simple ground of revelation.</p> + +<p>When Hurstwood put the money back, his nature again resumed its ease and +daring. No one had observed him. He was quite alone. No one could tell +what he wished to do. He could work this thing out for himself.</p> + +<p>The imbibation of the evening had not yet worn off. Moist as was his +brow, tremble as did his hand once after the nameless fright, he was +still flushed with the fumes of liquor. He scarcely noticed that the +time was passing. He went over his situation once again, his eye always +seeing the money in a lump, his mind always seeing what it would do. He +strolled into his little room, then to the door, then to the safe again. +He put his hand on the knob and opened it. There was the money! Surely +no harm could come from looking at it!</p> + +<p>He took out the drawer again and lifted the bills. They were so smooth, +so compact, so portable. How little they made, after all. He decided he +would take them. Yes, he would. He would put them in his pocket. Then +he<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> looked at that and saw they would not go there. His hand satchel! To +be sure, his hand satchel. They would go in that—all of it would. No +one would think anything of it either. He went into the little office +and took it from the shelf in the corner. Now he set it upon his desk +and went out toward the safe. For some reason he did not want to fill it +out in the big room.</p> + +<p>First he brought the bills and then the loose receipts of the day. He +would take it all. He put the empty drawers back and pushed the iron +door almost to, then stood beside it meditating.</p> + +<p>The wavering of a mind under such circumstances is an almost +inexplicable thing, and yet it is absolutely true. Hurstwood could not +bring himself to act definitely. He wanted to think about it—to ponder +over it, to decide whether it were best. He was drawn by such a keen +desire for Carrie, driven by such a state of turmoil in his own affairs +that he thought constantly it would be best, and yet he wavered. He did +not know what evil might result from it to him—how soon he might come +to grief. The true ethics of the situation never once occurred to him, +and never would have, under any circumstances.</p> + +<p>After he had all the money in the hand bag, a revulsion of feeling +seized him. He would not do it—no! Think of what a scandal it would +make. The police! They would be after him. He would have to fly, and +where? Oh, the terror of being a fugitive from justice! He took out the +two boxes and put all the money back. In his excitement he forgot what +he was doing, and put the sums in the wrong boxes. As he pushed the door +to, he thought he remembered doing it wrong and opened the door again. +There were the two boxes mixed.</p> + +<p>He took them out and straightened the matter, but now the terror had +gone. Why be afraid?</p> + +<p>While the money was in his hand the lock clicked. It<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> had sprung! Did he +do it? He grabbed at the knob and pulled vigorously. It had closed. +Heavens! he was in for it now, sure enough.</p> + +<p>The moment he realised that the safe was locked for a surety, the sweat +burst out upon his brow and he trembled violently. He looked about him +and decided instantly. There was no delaying now.</p> + +<p>"Supposing I do lay it on the top," he said, "and go away, they'll know +who took it. I'm the last to close up. Besides, other things will +happen."</p> + +<p>At once he became the man of action.</p> + +<p>"I must get out of this," he thought.</p> + +<p>He hurried into his little room, took down his light overcoat and hat, +locked his desk, and grabbed the satchel. Then he turned out all but one +light and opened the door. He tried to put on his old assured air, but +it was almost gone. He was repenting rapidly.</p> + +<p>"I wish I hadn't done that," he said. "That was a mistake."</p> + +<p>He walked steadily down the street, greeting a night watchman whom he +knew who was trying doors. He must get out of the city, and that +quickly.</p> + +<p>"I wonder how the trains run?" he thought.</p> + +<p>Instantly he pulled out his watch and looked. It was nearly half-past +one.</p> + +<p>At the first drug store he stopped, seeing a long-distance telephone +booth inside. It was a famous drug store, and contained one of the first +private telephone booths ever erected.</p> + +<p>"I want to use your 'phone a minute," he said to the night clerk.</p> + +<p>The latter nodded.</p> + +<p>"Give me 1643," he called to Central, after looking up the Michigan +Central depot number. Soon he got the ticket agent.<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a></p> + +<p>"How do the trains leave here for Detroit?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The man explained the hours.</p> + +<p>"No more to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing with a sleeper. Yes, there is, too," he added. "There is a mail +train out of here at three o'clock."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Hurstwood. "What time does that get to Detroit?"</p> + +<p>He was thinking if he could only get there and cross the river into +Canada, he could take his time about getting to Montreal. He was +relieved to learn that it would reach there by noon.</p> + +<p>"Mayhew won't open the safe till nine," he thought. "They can't get on +my track before noon."</p> + +<p>Then he thought of Carrie. With what speed must he get her, if he got +her at all. She would have to come along. He jumped into the nearest cab +standing by.</p> + +<p>"To Ogden Place," he said sharply. "I'll give you a dollar more if you +make good time."</p> + +<p>The cabby beat his horse into a sort of imitation gallop, which was +fairly fast, however. On the way Hurstwood thought what to do. Reaching +the number, he hurried up the steps and did not spare the bell in waking +the servant.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Drouet in?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the astonished girl.</p> + +<p>"Tell her to dress and come to the door at once. Her husband is in the +hospital, injured, and wants to see her."</p> + +<p>The servant girl hurried upstairs, convinced by the man's strained and +emphatic manner.</p> + +<p>"What!" said Carrie, lighting the gas and searching for her clothes.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Drouet is hurt and in the hospital. He wants to see you. The cab's +downstairs."</p> + +<p>Carrie dressed very rapidly, and soon appeared below, forgetting +everything save the necessities.<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a></p> + +<p>"Drouet is hurt," said Hurstwood quickly. "He wants to see you. Come +quickly."</p> + +<p>Carrie was so bewildered that she swallowed the whole story.</p> + +<p>"Get in," said Hurstwood, helping her and jumping after.</p> + +<p>The cabby began to turn the horse around.</p> + +<p>"Michigan Central depot," he said, standing up and speaking so low that +Carrie could not hear, "as fast as you can go."<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /><br /> +<small>A PILGRIM, AN OUTLAW: THE SPIRIT DETAINED</small></h2> + +<p>The cab had not travelled a short block before Carrie, settling herself +and thoroughly waking in the night atmosphere, asked:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him? Is he hurt badly?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything very serious," Hurstwood said solemnly. He was very +much disturbed over his own situation, and now that he had Carrie with +him, he only wanted to get safely out of reach of the law. Therefore he +was in no mood for anything save such words as would further his plans +distinctly.</p> + +<p>Carrie did not forget that there was something to be settled between her +and Hurstwood, but the thought was ignored in her agitation. The one +thing was to finish this strange pilgrimage.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Way out on the South Side," said Hurstwood. "We'll have to take the +train. It's the quickest way."</p> + +<p>Carrie said nothing, and the horse gambolled on. The weirdness of the +city by night held her attention. She looked at the long receding rows +of lamps and studied the dark, silent houses.</p> + +<p>"How did he hurt himself?" she asked—meaning what was the nature of his +injuries. Hurstwood understood. He hated to lie any more than necessary, +and yet he wanted no protests until he was out of danger.</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly," he said. "They just called me<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> up to go and get +you and bring you out. They said there wasn't any need for alarm, but +that I shouldn't fail to bring you."</p> + +<p>The man's serious manner convinced Carrie, and she became silent, +wondering.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood examined his watch and urged the man to hurry. For one in so +delicate a position he was exceedingly cool. He could only think of how +needful it was to make the train and get quietly away. Carrie seemed +quite tractable, and he congratulated himself.</p> + +<p>In due time they reached the depot, and after helping her out he handed +the man a five-dollar bill and hurried on.</p> + +<p>"You wait here," he said to Carrie, when they reached the waiting-room, +"while I get the tickets."</p> + +<p>"Have I much time to catch that train for Detroit?" he asked of the +agent.</p> + +<p>"Four minutes," said the latter.</p> + +<p>He paid for two tickets as circumspectly as possible.</p> + +<p>"Is it far?" said Carrie, as he hurried back.</p> + +<p>"Not very," he said. "We must get right in."</p> + +<p>He pushed her before him at the gate, stood between her and the ticket +man while the latter punched their tickets, so that she could not see, +and then hurried after.</p> + +<p>There was a long line of express and passenger cars and one or two +common day coaches. As the train had only recently been made up and few +passengers were expected, there were only one or two brakemen waiting. +They entered the rear day coach and sat down. Almost immediately, "All +aboard," resounded faintly from the outside, and the train started.</p> + +<p>Carrie began to think it was a little bit curious—this going to a +depot—but said nothing. The whole incident was so out of the natural +that she did not attach too much weight to anything she imagined.<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a></p> + +<p>"How have you been?" asked Hurstwood gently, for he now breathed easier.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Carrie, who was so disturbed that she could not bring +a proper attitude to bear in the matter. She was still nervous to reach +Drouet and see what could be the matter. Hurstwood contemplated her and +felt this. He was not disturbed that it should be so. He did not trouble +because she was moved sympathetically in the matter. It was one of the +qualities in her which pleased him exceedingly. He was only thinking how +he should explain. Even this was not the most serious thing in his mind, +however. His own deed and present flight were the great shadows which +weighed upon him.</p> + +<p>"What a fool I was to do that," he said over and over. "What a mistake!"</p> + +<p>In his sober senses, he could scarcely realise that the thing had been +done. He could not begin to feel that he was a fugitive from justice. He +had often read of such things, and had thought they must be terrible, +but now that the thing was upon him, he only sat and looked into the +past. The future was a thing which concerned the Canadian line. He +wanted to reach that. As for the rest, he surveyed his actions for the +evening, and counted them parts of a great mistake.</p> + +<p>"Still," he said, "what could I have done?"</p> + +<p>Then he would decide to make the best of it, and would begin to do so by +starting the whole inquiry over again. It was a fruitless, harassing +round, and left him in a queer mood to deal with the proposition he had +in the presence of Carrie.</p> + +<p>The train clacked through the yards along the lake front, and ran rather +slowly to Twenty-fourth Street. Brakes and signals were visible without. +The engine gave short calls with its whistle, and frequently the bell +rang. Several brakemen came through, bearing lanterns. They<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a> were +locking the vestibules and putting the cars in order for a long run.</p> + +<p>Presently it began to gain speed, and Carrie saw the silent streets +flashing by in rapid succession. The engine also began its whistle-calls +of four parts, with which it signalled danger to important crossings.</p> + +<p>"Is it very far?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Not so very," said Hurstwood. He could hardly repress a smile at her +simplicity. He wanted to explain and conciliate her, but he also wanted +to be well out of Chicago.</p> + +<p>In the lapse of another half-hour it became apparent to Carrie that it +was quite a run to wherever he was taking her, anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Is it in Chicago?" she asked nervously. They were now far beyond the +city limits, and the train was scudding across the Indiana line at a +great rate.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "not where we are going."</p> + +<p>There was something in the way he said this which aroused her in an +instant.</p> + +<p>Her pretty brow began to contract.</p> + +<p>"We are going to see Charlie, aren't we?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He felt that the time was up. An explanation might as well come now as +later. Therefore, he shook his head in the most gentle negative.</p> + +<p>"What?" said Carrie. She was nonplussed at the possibility of the errand +being different from what she had thought.</p> + +<p>He only looked at her in the most kindly and mollifying way.</p> + +<p>"Well, where are you taking me, then?" she asked, her voice showing the +quality of fright.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Carrie, if you'll be quiet. I want you to come along +with me to another city."<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh," said Carrie, her voice rising into a weak cry. "Let me off. I +don't want to go with you."</p> + +<p>She was quite appalled at the man's audacity. This was something which +had never for a moment entered her head. Her one thought now was to get +off and away. If only the flying train could be stopped, the terrible +trick would be amended.</p> + +<p>She arose and tried to push out into the aisle—anywhere. She knew she +had to do something. Hurstwood laid a gentle hand on her.</p> + +<p>"Sit still, Carrie," he said. "Sit still. It won't do you any good to +get up here. Listen to me and I'll tell you what I'll do. Wait a +moment."</p> + +<p>She was pushing at his knees, but he only pulled her back. No one saw +this little altercation, for very few persons were in the car, and they +were attempting to doze.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Carrie, who was, nevertheless, complying against her +will. "Let me go," she said. "How dare you?" and large tears began to +gather in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was now fully aroused to the immediate difficulty, and ceased +to think of his own situation. He must do something with this girl, or +she would cause him trouble. He tried the art of persuasion with all his +powers aroused.</p> + +<p>"Look here now, Carrie," he said, "you mustn't act this way. I didn't +mean to hurt your feelings. I don't want to do anything to make you feel +bad."</p> + +<p>"Oh," sobbed Carrie, "oh, oh—oo—o!"</p> + +<p>"There, there," he said, "you mustn't cry. Won't you listen to me? +Listen to me a minute, and I'll tell you why I came to do this thing. I +couldn't help it. I assure you I couldn't. Won't you listen?"</p> + +<p>Her sobs disturbed him so that he was quite sure she did not hear a word +he said.</p> + +<p>"Won't you listen?" he asked.<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a></p> + +<p>"No, I won't," said Carrie, flashing up. "I want you to take me out of +this, or I'll tell the conductor. I won't go with you. It's a shame," +and again sobs of fright cut off her desire for expression.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood listened with some astonishment. He felt that she had just +cause for feeling as she did, and yet he wished that he could straighten +this thing out quickly. Shortly the conductor would come through for the +tickets. He wanted no noise, no trouble of any kind. Before everything +he must make her quiet.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't get out until the train stops again," said Hurstwood. "It +won't be very long until we reach another station. You can get out then +if you want to. I won't stop you. All I want you to do is to listen a +moment. You'll let me tell you, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Carrie seemed not to listen. She only turned her head toward the window, +where outside all was black. The train was speeding with steady grace +across the fields and through patches of wood. The long whistles came +with sad, musical effect as the lonely woodland crossings were +approached.</p> + +<p>Now the conductor entered the car and took up the one or two fares that +had been added at Chicago. He approached Hurstwood, who handed out the +tickets. Poised as she was to act, Carrie made no move. She did not look +about.</p> + +<p>When the conductor had gone again Hurstwood felt relieved.</p> + +<p>"You're angry at me because I deceived you," he said. "I didn't mean to, +Carrie. As I live I didn't. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stay away +from you after the first time I saw you."</p> + +<p>He was ignoring the last deception as something that might go by the +board. He wanted to convince her that his wife could no longer be a +factor in their relationship.<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> The money he had stolen he tried to shut +out of his mind.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me," said Carrie, "I hate you. I want you to go away from +me. I am going to get out at the very next station."</p> + +<p>She was in a tremble of excitement and opposition as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said, "but you'll hear me out, won't you? After all you +have said about loving me, you might hear me. I don't want to do you any +harm. I'll give you the money to go back with when you go. I merely want +to tell you, Carrie. You can't stop me from loving you, whatever you may +think."</p> + +<p>He looked at her tenderly, but received no reply.</p> + +<p>"You think I have deceived you badly, but I haven't. I didn't do it +willingly. I'm through with my wife. She hasn't any claims on me. I'll +never see her any more. That's why I'm here to-night. That's why I came +and got you."</p> + +<p>"You said Charlie was hurt," said Carrie, savagely. "You deceived me. +You've been deceiving me all the time, and now you want to force me to +run away with you."</p> + +<p>She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by him again. He let +her, and she took another seat. Then he followed.</p> + +<p>"Don't run away from me, Carrie," he said gently. "Let me explain. If +you will only hear me out you will see where I stand. I tell you my wife +is nothing to me. She hasn't been anything for years or I wouldn't have +ever come near you. I'm going to get a divorce just as soon as I can. +I'll never see her again. I'm done with all that. You're the only person +I want. If I can have you I won't ever think of another woman again."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It sounded<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> sincere +enough, however, despite all he had done. There was a tenseness in +Hurstwood's voice and manner which could but have some effect. She did +not want anything to do with him. He was married, he had deceived her +once, and now again, and she thought him terrible. Still there is +something in such daring and power which is fascinating to a woman, +especially if she can be made to feel that it is all prompted by love of +her.</p> + +<p>The progress of the train was having a great deal to do with the +solution of this difficult situation. The speeding wheels and +disappearing country put Chicago farther and farther behind. Carrie +could feel that she was being borne a long distance off—that the engine +was making an almost through run to some distant city. She felt at times +as if she could cry out and make such a row that some one would come to +her aid; at other times it seemed an almost useless thing—so far was +she from any aid, no matter what she did. All the while Hurstwood was +endeavouring to formulate his plea in such a way that it would strike +home and bring her into sympathy with him.</p> + +<p>"I was simply put where I didn't know what else to do."</p> + +<p>Carrie deigned no suggestion of hearing this.</p> + +<p>"When I saw you wouldn't come unless I could marry you, I decided to put +everything else behind me and get you to come away with me. I'm going +off now to another city. I want to go to Montreal for a while, and then +anywhere you want to. We'll go and live in New York, if you say."</p> + +<p>"I'll not have anything to do with you," said Carrie. "I want to get off +this train. Where are we going?"</p> + +<p>"To Detroit," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Carrie, in a burst of anguish. So distant and definite a +point seemed to increase the difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come along with me?" he said, as if there<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a> was great danger +that she would not. "You won't need to do anything but travel with me. +I'll not trouble you in any way. You can see Montreal and New York, and +then if you don't want to stay you can go back. It will be better than +trying to go back to-night."</p> + +<p>The first gleam of fairness shone in this proposition for Carrie. It +seemed a plausible thing to do, much as she feared his opposition if she +tried to carry it out. Montreal and New York! Even now she was speeding +toward those great, strange lands, and could see them if she liked. She +thought, but made no sign.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in this. He redoubled his +ardour.</p> + +<p>"Think," he said, "what I've given up. I can't go back to Chicago any +more. I've got to stay away and live alone now, if you don't come with +me. You won't go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to talk to me," she answered forcibly.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood kept silent for a while.</p> + +<p>Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the moment to act if +she was to act at all. She stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Don't think of going, Carrie," he said. "If you ever cared for me at +all, come along and let's start right. I'll do whatever you say. I'll +marry you, or I'll let you go back. Give yourself time to think it over. +I wouldn't have wanted you to come if I hadn't loved you. I tell you, +Carrie, before God, I can't live without you. I won't!"</p> + +<p>There was the tensity of fierceness in the man's plea which appealed +deeply to her sympathies. It was a dissolving fire which was actuating +him now. He was loving her too intensely to think of giving her up in +this, his hour of distress. He clutched her hand nervously and pressed +it with all the force of an appeal.<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a></p> + +<p>The train was now all but stopped. It was running by some cars on a side +track. Everything outside was dark and dreary. A few sprinkles on the +window began to indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in a quandary, +balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the train stopped, and +she was listening to his plea. The engine backed a few feet and all was +still.</p> + +<p>She wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute after minute slipped +by and still she hesitated, he pleading.</p> + +<p>"Will you let me come back if I want to?" she asked, as if she now had +the upper hand and her companion was utterly subdued.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he answered, "you know I will."</p> + +<p>Carrie only listened as one who has granted a temporary amnesty. She +began to feel as if the matter were in her hands entirely.</p> + +<p>The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood changed the subject.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you very tired?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery she was +beginning to notice what she had always felt—his thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said, "you will feel so much better."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Let me fix my coat for you, anyway," and he arose and arranged his +light coat in a comfortable position to receive her head.</p> + +<p>"There," he said tenderly, "now see if you can't rest a little." He +could have kissed her for her compliance. He took his seat beside her +and thought a moment.</p> + +<p>"I believe we're in for a heavy rain," he said.</p> + +<p>"So it looks," said Carrie, whose nerves were quieting under the sound +of the rain drops, driven by a gusty<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a> wind, as the train swept on +frantically through the shadow to a newer world.</p> + +<p>The fact that he had in a measure mollified Carrie was a source of +satisfaction to Hurstwood, but it furnished only the most temporary +relief. Now that her opposition was out of the way, he had all of his +time to devote to the consideration of his own error.</p> + +<p>His condition was bitter in the extreme, for he did not want the +miserable sum he had stolen. He did not want to be a thief. That sum or +any other could never compensate for the state which he had thus +foolishly doffed. It could not give him back his host of friends, his +name, his house and family, nor Carrie, as he had meant to have her. He +was shut out from Chicago—from his easy, comfortable state. He had +robbed himself of his dignity, his merry meetings, his pleasant +evenings. And for what? The more he thought of it the more unbearable it +became. He began to think that he would try and restore himself to his +old state. He would return the miserable thievings of the night and +explain. Perhaps Moy would understand. Perhaps they would forgive him +and let him come back.</p> + +<p>By noontime the train rolled into Detroit and he began to feel +exceedingly nervous. The police must be on his track by now. They had +probably notified all the police of the big cities, and detectives would +be watching for him. He remembered instances in which defaulters had +been captured. Consequently, he breathed heavily and paled somewhat. His +hands felt as if they must have something to do. He simulated interest +in several scenes without which he did not feel. He repeatedly beat his +foot upon the floor.</p> + +<p>Carrie noticed his agitation, but said nothing. She had no idea what it +meant or that it was important.</p> + +<p>He wondered now why he had not asked whether this<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a> train went on through +to Montreal or some Canadian point. Perhaps he could have saved time. He +jumped up and sought the conductor.</p> + +<p>"Does any part of this train go to Montreal?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the next sleeper back does."</p> + +<p>He would have asked more, but it did not seem wise, so he decided to +inquire at the depot.</p> + +<p>The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing.</p> + +<p>"I think we had better go right on through to Montreal," he said to +Carrie. "I'll see what the connections are when we get off."</p> + +<p>He was exceedingly nervous, but did his best to put on a calm exterior. +Carrie only looked at him with large, troubled eyes. She was drifting +mentally, unable to say to herself what to do.</p> + +<p>The train stopped and Hurstwood led the way out. He looked warily around +him, pretending to look after Carrie. Seeing nothing that indicated +studied observation, he made his way to the ticket office.</p> + +<p>"The next train for Montreal leaves when?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"In twenty minutes," said the man.</p> + +<p>He bought two tickets and Pullman berths. Then he hastened back to +Carrie.</p> + +<p>"We go right out again," he said, scarcely noticing that Carrie looked +tired and weary.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was out of all this," she exclaimed gloomily.</p> + +<p>"You'll feel better when we reach Montreal," he said.</p> + +<p>"I haven't an earthly thing with me," said Carrie; "not even a +handkerchief."</p> + +<p>"You can buy all you want as soon as you get there, dearest," he +explained. "You can call in a dressmaker."</p> + +<p>Now the crier called the train ready and they got on. Hurstwood breathed +a sigh of relief as it started. There was a short run to the river, and +there they were ferried<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a> over. They had barely pulled the train off the +ferry-boat when he settled back with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"It won't be so very long now," he said, remembering her in his relief. +"We get there the first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>Carrie scarcely deigned to reply.</p> + +<p>"I'll see if there is a dining-car," he added. "I'm hungry."<a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /><br /> +<small>THE SOLACE OF TRAVEL: THE BOATS OF THE SEA</small></h2> + +<p>To the untravelled, territory other than their own familiar heath is +invariably fascinating. Next to love, it is the one thing which solaces +and delights. Things new are too important to be neglected, and mind, +which is a mere reflection of sensory impressions, succumbs to the flood +of objects. Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows laid aside, death hidden +from view. There is a world of accumulated feeling back of the trite +dramatic expression—"I am going away."</p> + +<p>As Carrie looked out upon the flying scenery she almost forgot that she +had been tricked into this long journey against her will and that she +was without the necessary apparel for travelling. She quite forgot +Hurstwood's presence at times, and looked away to homely farmhouses and +cosey cottages in villages with wondering eyes. It was an interesting +world to her. Her life had just begun. She did not feel herself defeated +at all. Neither was she blasted in hope. The great city held much. +Possibly she would come out of bondage into freedom—who knows? Perhaps +she would be happy. These thoughts raised her above the level of erring. +She was saved in that she was hopeful.</p> + +<p>The following morning the train pulled safely into Montreal and they +stepped down, Hurstwood glad to be out of danger, Carrie wondering at +the novel atmosphere of the northern city. Long before, Hurstwood had +been here, and now he remembered the name of<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> the hotel at which he had +stopped. As they came out of the main entrance of the depot he heard it +called anew by a busman.</p> + +<p>"We'll go right up and get rooms," he said.</p> + +<p>At the clerk's office Hurstwood swung the register about while the clerk +came forward. He was thinking what name he would put down. With the +latter before him he found no time for hesitation. A name he had seen +out of the car window came swiftly to him. It was pleasing enough. With +an easy hand he wrote, "G. W. Murdock and wife." It was the largest +concession to necessity he felt like making. His initials he could not +spare.</p> + +<p>When they were shown their room Carrie saw at once that he had secured +her a lovely chamber.</p> + +<p>"You have a bath there," said he. "Now you can clean up when you get +ready."</p> + +<p>Carrie went over and looked out the window, while Hurstwood looked at +himself in the glass. He felt dusty and unclean. He had no trunk, no +change of linen, not even a hair-brush.</p> + +<p>"I'll ring for soap and towels," he said, "and send you up a hair-brush. +Then you can bathe and get ready for breakfast. I'll go for a shave and +come back and get you, and then we'll go out and look for some clothes +for you."</p> + +<p>He smiled good-naturedly as he said this.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>She sat down in one of the rocking-chairs, while Hurstwood waited for +the boy, who soon knocked.</p> + +<p>"Soap, towels, and a pitcher of ice-water."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I'll go now," he said to Carrie, coming toward her and holding out his +hands, but she did not move to take them.<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a></p> + +<p>"You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she answered, rather indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Don't you care for me at all?"</p> + +<p>She made no answer, but looked steadily toward the window.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you could love me a little?" he pleaded, taking one of +her hands, which she endeavoured to draw away. "You once said you did."</p> + +<p>"What made you deceive me so?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it," he said, "I wanted you too much."</p> + +<p>"You didn't have any right to want me," she answered, striking cleanly +home.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, Carrie," he answered, "here I am. It's too late now. Won't +you try and care for me a little?"</p> + +<p>He looked rather worsted in thought as he stood before her.</p> + +<p>She shook her head negatively.</p> + +<p>"Let me start all over again. Be my wife from to-day on."</p> + +<p>Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. Now he slipped +his arm about her and she struggled, but in vain. He held her quite +close. Instantly there flamed up in his body the all-compelling desire. +His affection took an ardent form.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," said Carrie, who was folded close to him.</p> + +<p>"Won't you love me?" he said. "Won't you be mine from now on?"</p> + +<p>Carrie had never been ill-disposed toward him. Only a moment before she +had been listening with some complacency, remembering her old affection +for him. He was so handsome, so daring!</p> + +<p>Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> opposition, which rose +feebly. It mastered her for a moment, and then, held close as she was, +began to wane. Something else in her spoke. This man, to whose bosom she +was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, and she +was alone. If she did not turn to him—accept of his love—where else +might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of his strong +feeling.</p> + +<p>She found him lifting her head and looking into her eyes. What magnetism +there was she could never know. His many sins, however, were for the +moment all forgotten.</p> + +<p>He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt that further +opposition was useless.</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting how.</p> + +<p>"This very day," he said, with all delight.</p> + +<p>Now the hall-boy pounded on the door and he released his hold upon her +regretfully.</p> + +<p>"You get ready now, will you," he said, "at once?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour."</p> + +<p>Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he admitted the boy.</p> + +<p>Below stairs, he halted in the lobby to look for a barber shop. For the +moment, he was in fine feather. His recent victory over Carrie seemed to +atone for much he had endured during the last few days. Life seemed +worth fighting for. This eastward flight from all things customary and +attached seemed as if it might have happiness in store. The storm showed +a rainbow at the end of which might be a pot of gold.</p> + +<p>He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which was +fastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly +his heart sank.<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a></p> + +<p>"Why, hello, George, old man!" said the voice. "What are you doing down +here?"</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised his friend Kenny, the +stock-broker.</p> + +<p>"Just attending to a little private matter," he answered, his mind +working like a key-board of a telephone station. This man evidently did +not know—he had not read the papers.</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems strange to see you way up here," said Mr. Kenny +genially. "Stopping here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his handwriting on the +register.</p> + +<p>"Going to be in town long?"</p> + +<p>"No, only a day or so."</p> + +<p>"Is that so? Had your breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood, lying blandly. "I'm just going for a shave."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come have a drink?"</p> + +<p>"Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. "I'll see you later. Are +you stopping here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Kenny, and then, turning the word again, added: "How are +things out in Chicago?"</p> + +<p>"About the same as usual," said Hurstwood, smiling genially.</p> + +<p>"Wife with you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must see more of you to-day. I'm just going in here for +breakfast. Come in when you're through."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole conversation was a +trial to him. It seemed to add complications with every word. This man +called up a thousand memories. He represented everything he had left. +Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort—all these were in his greeting +and inquiries. And here he<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a> was in this same hotel expecting to confer +with him, unquestionably waiting to have a good time with him. All at +once the Chicago papers would arrive. The local papers would have +accounts in them this very day. He forgot his triumph with Carrie in the +possibility of soon being known for what he was, in this man's eyes, a +safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went into the barber shop. He +decided to escape and seek a more secluded hotel.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see the lobby clear, and +hastened toward the stairs. He would get Carrie and go out by the +ladies' entrance. They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuous +place.</p> + +<p>Across the lobby, however, another individual was surveying him. He was +of a commonplace Irish type, small of stature, cheaply dressed, and with +a head that seemed a smaller edition of some huge ward politician's. +This individual had been evidently talking with the clerk, but now he +surveyed the ex-manager keenly.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and recognised the type. +Instinctively he felt that the man was a detective—that he was being +watched. He hurried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mind +was a world of thoughts. What would happen now? What could these people +do? He began to trouble concerning the extradition laws. He did not +understand them absolutely. Perhaps he could be arrested. Oh, if Carrie +should find out! Montreal was too warm for him. He began to long to be +out of it.</p> + +<p>Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he arrived. She looked +refreshed—more delightful than ever, but reserved. Since he had gone +she had resumed somewhat of her cold attitude towards him. Love was not +blazing in her heart. He felt it, and his troubles seemed<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a> increased. He +could not take her in his arms; he did not even try. Something about her +forbade it. In part his opinion was the result of his own experiences +and reflections below stairs.</p> + +<p>"You're ready, are you?" he said kindly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.</p> + +<p>"We'll go out for breakfast. This place down here doesn't appeal to me +very much."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>They went out, and at the corner the commonplace Irish individual was +standing, eyeing him. Hurstwood could scarcely refrain from showing that +he knew of this chap's presence. The insolence in the fellow's eye was +galling. Still they passed, and he explained to Carrie concerning the +city. Another restaurant was not long in showing itself, and here they +entered.</p> + +<p>"What a queer town this is," said Carrie, who marvelled at it solely +because it was not like Chicago.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as lively as Chicago," said Hurstwood. "Don't you like it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, whose feelings were already localised in the great +Western city.</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't as interesting," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"What's here?" asked Carrie, wondering at his choosing to visit this +town.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much," returned Hurstwood. "It's quite a resort. There's some +pretty scenery about here."</p> + +<p>Carrie listened, but with a feeling of unrest. There was much about her +situation which destroyed the possibility of appreciation.</p> + +<p>"We won't stay here long," said Hurstwood, who was now really glad to +note her dissatisfaction. "You pick out your clothes as soon as +breakfast is over and we'll run down to New York soon. You'll like that. +It's a lot more like a city than any place outside Chicago."<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a></p> + +<p>He was really planning to slip out and away. He would see what these +detectives would do—what move his employers at Chicago would make—then +he would slip away—down to New York, where it was easy to hide. He knew +enough about that city to know that its mysteries and possibilities of +mystification were infinite.</p> + +<p>The more he thought, however, the more wretched his situation became. He +saw that getting here did not exactly clear up the ground. The firm +would probably employ detectives to watch him—Pinkerton men or agents +of Mooney and Boland. They might arrest him the moment he tried to leave +Canada. So he might be compelled to remain here months, and in what a +state!</p> + +<p>Back at the hotel Hurstwood was anxious and yet fearful to see the +morning papers. He wanted to know how far the news of his criminal deed +had spread. So he told Carrie he would be up in a few moments, and went +to secure and scan the dailies. No familiar or suspicious faces were +about, and yet he did not like reading in the lobby, so he sought the +main parlour on the floor above and, seated by a window there, looked +them over. Very little was given to his crime, but it was there, several +"sticks" in all, among all the riffraff of telegraphed murders, +accidents, marriages, and other news. He wished, half sadly, that he +could undo it all. Every moment of his time in this far-off abode of +safety but added to his feeling that he had made a great mistake. There +could have been an easier way out if he had only known.</p> + +<p>He left the papers before going to the room, thinking thus to keep them +out of the hands of Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, how are you feeling?" he asked of her. She was engaged in looking +out of the window.<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," she answered.</p> + +<p>He came over, and was about to begin a conversation with her, when a +knock came at their door.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's one of my parcels," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood opened the door, outside of which stood the individual whom he +had so thoroughly suspected.</p> + +<p>"You're Mr. Hurstwood, are you?" said the latter, with a volume of +affected shrewdness and assurance.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood calmly. He knew the type so thoroughly that some +of his old familiar indifference to it returned. Such men as these were +of the lowest stratum welcomed at the resort. He stepped out and closed +the door.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what I am here for, don't you?" said the man +confidentially.</p> + +<p>"I can guess," said Hurstwood softly.</p> + +<p>"Well, do you intend to try and keep the money?"</p> + +<p>"That's my affair," said Hurstwood grimly.</p> + +<p>"You can't do it, you know," said the detective, eyeing him coolly.</p> + +<p>"Look here, my man," said Hurstwood authoritatively, "you don't +understand anything about this case, and I can't explain to you. +Whatever I intend to do I'll do without advice from the outside. You'll +have to excuse me."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, there's no use of your talking that way," said the man, +"when you're in the hands of the police. We can make a lot of trouble +for you if we want to. You're not registered right in this house, you +haven't got your wife with you, and the newspapers don't know you're +here yet. You might as well be reasonable."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to know?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Whether you're going to send back that money or not."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood paused and studied the floor.<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a></p> + +<p>"There's no use explaining to you about this," he said at last. "There's +no use of your asking me. I'm no fool, you know. I know just what you +can do and what you can't. You can create a lot of trouble if you want +to. I know that all right, but it won't help you to get the money. Now, +I've made up my mind what to do. I've already written Fitzgerald and +Moy, so there's nothing I can say. You wait until you hear more from +them."</p> + +<p>All the time he had been talking he had been moving away from the door, +down the corridor, out of the hearing of Carrie. They were now near the +end where the corridor opened into the large general parlour.</p> + +<p>"You won't give it up?" said the man.</p> + +<p>The words irritated Hurstwood greatly. Hot blood poured into his brain. +Many thoughts formulated themselves. He was no thief. He didn't want the +money. If he could only explain to Fitzgerald and Moy, maybe it would be +all right again.</p> + +<p>"See here," he said, "there's no use my talking about this at all. I +respect your power all right, but I'll have to deal with the people who +know."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can't get out of Canada with it," said the man.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to get out," said Hurstwood. "When I get ready there'll be +nothing to stop me for."</p> + +<p>He turned back, and the detective watched him closely. It seemed an +intolerable thing. Still he went on and into the room.</p> + +<p>"Who was it?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine from Chicago."</p> + +<p>The whole of this conversation was such a shock that, coming as it did +after all the other worry of the past week, it sufficed to induce a deep +gloom and moral revulsion in Hurstwood. What hurt him most was the<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a> fact +that he was being pursued as a thief. He began to see the nature of that +social injustice which sees but one side—often but a single point in a +long tragedy. All the newspapers noted but one thing, his taking the +money. How and wherefore were but indifferently dealt with. All the +complications which led up to it were unknown. He was accused without +being understood.</p> + +<p>Sitting in his room with Carrie the same day, he decided to send the +money back. He would write Fitzgerald and Moy, explain all, and then +send it by express. Maybe they would forgive him. Perhaps they would ask +him back. He would make good the false statement he had made about +writing them. Then he would leave this peculiar town.</p> + +<p>For an hour he thought over this plausible statement of the tangle. He +wanted to tell them about his wife, but couldn't. He finally narrowed it +down to an assertion that he was light-headed from entertaining friends, +had found the safe open, and having gone so far as to take the money +out, had accidentally closed it. This act he regretted very much. He was +sorry he had put them to so much trouble. He would undo what he could by +sending the money back—the major portion of it. The remainder he would +pay up as soon as he could. Was there any possibility of his being +restored? This he only hinted at.</p> + +<p>The troubled state of the man's mind may be judged by the very +construction of this letter. For the nonce he forgot what a painful +thing it would be to resume his old place, even if it were given him. He +forgot that he had severed himself from the past as by a sword, and that +if he did manage to in some way reunite himself with it, the jagged line +of separation and reunion would always show. He was always forgetting +something—<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>his wife, Carrie, his need of money, present situation, or +something—and so did not reason clearly. Nevertheless, he sent the +letter, waiting a reply before sending the money.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with Carrie, getting what +joy out of it he could.</p> + +<p>Out came the sun by noon, and poured a golden flood through their open +windows. Sparrows were twittering. There were laughter and song in the +air. Hurstwood could not keep his eyes from Carrie. She seemed the one +ray of sunshine in all his trouble. Oh, if she would only love him +wholly—only throw her arms around him in the blissful spirit in which +he had seen her in the little park in Chicago—how happy he would be! It +would repay him; it would show him that he had not lost all. He would +not care.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," he said, getting up once and coming over to her, "are you +going to stay with me from now on?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him quizzically, but melted with sympathy as the value of +the look upon his face forced itself upon her. It was love now, keen and +strong—love enhanced by difficulty and worry. She could not help +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Let me be everything to you from now on," he said. "Don't make me worry +any more. I'll be true to you. We'll go to New York and get a nice flat. +I'll go into business again, and we'll be happy. Won't you be mine?"</p> + +<p>Carrie listened quite solemnly. There was no great passion in her, but +the drift of things and this man's proximity created a semblance of +affection. She felt rather sorry for him—a sorrow born of what had only +recently been a great admiration. True love she had never felt for him. +She would have known as much if she could have analysed her feelings, +but this thing<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a> which she now felt aroused by his great feeling broke +down the barriers between them.</p> + +<p>"You'll stay with me, won't you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, nodding her head.</p> + +<p>He gathered her to himself, imprinting kisses upon her lips and cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You must marry me, though," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'll get a license to-day," he answered.</p> + +<p>"How?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Under a new name," he answered. "I'll take a new name and live a new +life. From now on I'm Murdock."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't take that name," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't like it."</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall I take?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything, only don't take that."</p> + +<p>He thought a while, still keeping his arms about her, and then said:</p> + +<p>"How would Wheeler do?"</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Wheeler," he said. "I'll get the license this afternoon."</p> + +<p>They were married by a Baptist minister, the first divine they found +convenient.</p> + +<p>At last the Chicago firm answered. It was by Mr. Moy's dictation. He was +astonished that Hurstwood had done this; very sorry that it had come +about as it had. If the money were returned, they would not trouble to +prosecute him, as they really bore him no ill-will. As for his +returning, or their restoring him to his former position, they had not +quite decided what the effect of it would be. They would think it over +and correspond with him later, possibly, after a little time, and so on.</p> + +<p>The sum and substance of it was that there was no<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a> hope, and they wanted +the money with the least trouble possible. Hurstwood read his doom. He +decided to pay $9,500 to the agent whom they said they would send, +keeping $1,300 for his own use. He telegraphed his acquiescence, +explained to the representative who called at the hotel the same day, +took a certificate of payment, and told Carrie to pack her trunk. He was +slightly depressed over this newest move at the time he began to make +it, but eventually restored himself. He feared that even yet he might be +seized and taken back, so he tried to conceal his movements, but it was +scarcely possible. He ordered Carrie's trunk sent to the depot, where he +had it sent by express to New York. No one seemed to be observing him, +but he left at night. He was greatly agitated lest at the first station +across the border or at the depot in New York there should be waiting +for him an officer of the law.</p> + +<p>Carrie, ignorant of his theft and his fears, enjoyed the entry into the +latter city in the morning. The round green hills sentinelling the +broad, expansive bosom of the Hudson held her attention by their beauty +as the train followed the line of the stream. She had heard of the +Hudson River, the great city of New York, and now she looked out, +filling her mind with the wonder of it.</p> + +<p>As the train turned east at Spuyten Duyvil and followed the east bank of +the Harlem River, Hurstwood nervously called her attention to the fact +that they were on the edge of the city. After her experience with +Chicago, she expected long lines of cars—a great highway of tracks—and +noted the difference. The sight of a few boats in the Harlem and more in +the East River tickled her young heart. It was the first sign of the +great sea. Next came a plain street with five-story brick flats, and +then the train plunged into the tunnel.<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a></p> + +<p>"Grand Central Station!" called the trainman, as, after a few minutes of +darkness and smoke, daylight reappeared. Hurstwood arose and gathered up +his small grip. He was screwed up to the highest tension. With Carrie he +waited at the door and then dismounted. No one approached him, but he +glanced furtively to and fro as he made for the street entrance. So +excited was he that he forgot all about Carrie, who fell behind, +wondering at his self-absorption. As he passed through the depot proper +the strain reached its climax and began to wane. All at once he was on +the sidewalk, and none but cabmen hailed him. He heaved a great breath +and turned, remembering Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to run off and leave me," she said.</p> + +<p>"I was trying to remember which car takes us to the Gilsey," he +answered.</p> + +<p>Carrie hardly heard him, so interested was she in the busy scene.</p> + +<p>"How large is New York?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a million or more," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>He looked around and hailed a cab, but he did so in a changed way.</p> + +<p>For the first time in years the thought that he must count these little +expenses flashed through his mind. It was a disagreeable thing.</p> + +<p>He decided he would lose no time living in hotels but would rent a flat. +Accordingly he told Carrie, and she agreed.</p> + +<p>"We'll look to-day, if you want to," she said.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he thought of his experience in Montreal. At the more important +hotels he would be certain to meet Chicagoans whom he knew. He stood up +and spoke to the driver.</p> + +<p>"Take me to the Belford," he said, knowing it to be<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a> less frequented by +those whom he knew. Then he sat down.</p> + +<p>"Where is the residence part?" asked Carrie, who did not take the tall +five-story walls on either hand to be the abodes of families.</p> + +<p>"Everywhere," said Hurstwood, who knew the city fairly well. "There are +no lawns in New York. All these are houses."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I don't like it," said Carrie, who was coming to have a few +opinions of her own.<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /><br /> +<small>THE KINGDOM OF GREATNESS: THE PILGRIM ADREAM</small></h2> + +<p>Whatever a man like Hurstwood could be in Chicago, it is very evident +that he would be but an inconspicuous drop in an ocean like New York. In +Chicago, whose population still ranged about 500,000, millionaires were +not numerous. The rich had not become so conspicuously rich as to drown +all moderate incomes in obscurity. The attention of the inhabitants was +not so distracted by local celebrities in the dramatic, artistic, +social, and religious fields as to shut the well-positioned man from +view. In Chicago the two roads to distinction were politics and trade. +In New York the roads were any one of a half-hundred, and each had been +diligently pursued by hundreds, so that celebrities were numerous. The +sea was already full of whales. A common fish must needs disappear +wholly from view—remain unseen. In other words, Hurstwood was nothing.</p> + +<p>There is a more subtle result of such a situation as this, which, though +not always taken into account, produces the tragedies of the world. The +great create an atmosphere which reacts badly upon the small. This +atmosphere is easily and quickly felt. Walk among the magnificent +residences, the splendid equipages, the gilded shops, restaurants, +resorts of all kinds; scent the flowers, the silks, the wines; drink of +the laughter springing from the soul of luxurious content, of the<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a> +glances which gleam like light from defiant spears; feel the quality of +the smiles which cut like glistening swords and of strides born of +place, and you shall know of what is the atmosphere of the high and +mighty. Little use to argue that of such is not the kingdom of +greatness, but so long as the world is attracted by this and the human +heart views this as the one desirable realm which it must attain, so +long, to that heart, will this remain the realm of greatness. So long, +also, will the atmosphere of this realm work its desperate results in +the soul of man. It is like a chemical reagent. One day of it, like one +drop of the other, will so affect and discolour the views, the aims, the +desire of the mind, that it will thereafter remain forever dyed. A day +of it to the untried mind is like opium to the untried body. A craving +is set up which, if gratified, shall eternally result in dreams and +death. Aye! dreams unfulfilled—gnawing, luring, idle phantoms which +beckon and lead, beckon and lead, until death and dissolution dissolve +their power and restore us blind to nature's heart.</p> + +<p>A man of Hurstwood's age and temperament is not subject to the illusions +and burning desires of youth, but neither has he the strength of hope +which gushes as a fountain in the heart of youth. Such an atmosphere +could not incite in him the cravings of a boy of eighteen, but in so far +as they were excited, the lack of hope made them proportionately bitter. +He could not fail to notice the signs of affluence and luxury on every +hand. He had been to New York before and knew the resources of its +folly. In part it was an awesome place to him, for here gathered all +that he most respected on this earth—wealth, place, and fame. The +majority of the celebrities with whom he had tipped glasses in his day +as manager hailed from this self-centred and populous spot. The most +inviting stories of pleasure and luxury<a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a> had been told of places and +individuals here. He knew it to be true that unconsciously he was +brushing elbows with fortune the livelong day; that a hundred or five +hundred thousand gave no one the privilege of living more than +comfortably in so wealthy a place. Fashion and pomp required more ample +sums, so that the poor man was nowhere. All this he realised, now quite +sharply, as he faced the city, cut off from his friends, despoiled of +his modest fortune, and even his name, and forced to begin the battle +for place and comfort all over again. He was not old, but he was not so +dull but that he could feel he soon would be. Of a sudden, then, this +show of fine clothes, place, and power took on peculiar significance. It +was emphasised by contrast with his own distressing state.</p> + +<p>And it was distressing. He soon found that freedom from fear of arrest +was not the <i>sine qua non</i> of his existence. That danger dissolved, the +next necessity became the grievous thing. The paltry sum of thirteen +hundred and some odd dollars set against the need of rent, clothing, +food, and pleasure for years to come was a spectacle little calculated +to induce peace of mind in one who had been accustomed to spend five +times that sum in the course of a year. He thought upon the subject +rather actively the first few days he was in New York, and decided that +he must act quickly. As a consequence, he consulted the business +opportunities advertised in the morning papers and began investigations +on his own account.</p> + +<p>That was not before he had become settled, however. Carrie and he went +looking for a flat, as arranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Street +near Amsterdam Avenue. It was a five-story building, and their flat was +on the third floor. Owing to the fact that the street was not yet built +up solidly, it<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a> was possible to see east to the green tops of the trees +in Central Park and west to the broad waters of the Hudson, a glimpse of +which was to be had out of the west windows. For the privilege of six +rooms and a bath, running in a straight line, they were compelled to pay +thirty-five dollars a month—an average, and yet exorbitant, rent for a +home at the time. Carrie noticed the difference between the size of the +rooms here and in Chicago and mentioned it.</p> + +<p>"You'll not find anything better, dear," said Hurstwood, "unless you go +into one of the old-fashioned houses, and then you won't have any of +these conveniences."</p> + +<p>Carrie picked out the new abode because of its newness and bright +wood-work. It was one of the very new ones supplied with steam heat, +which was a great advantage. The stationary range, hot and cold water, +dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for the janitor pleased her +very much. She had enough of the instincts of a housewife to take great +satisfaction in these things.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood made arrangement with one of the instalment houses whereby +they furnished the flat complete and accepted fifty dollars down and ten +dollars a month. He then had a little plate, bearing the name G. W. +Wheeler, made, which he placed on his letter-box in the hall. It sounded +exceedingly odd to Carrie to be called Mrs. Wheeler by the janitor, but +in time she became used to it and looked upon the name as her own.</p> + +<p>These house details settled, Hurstwood visited some of the advertised +opportunities to purchase an interest in some flourishing down-town bar. +After the palatial resort in Adams Street, he could not stomach the +commonplace saloons which he found advertised. He lost<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a> a number of days +looking up these and finding them disagreeable. He did, however, gain +considerable knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influence of +Tammany Hall and the value of standing in with the police. The most +profitable and flourishing places he found to be those which conducted +anything but a legitimate business, such as that controlled by +Fitzgerald and Moy. Elegant back rooms and private drinking booths on +the second floor were usually adjuncts of very profitable places. He saw +by portly keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, and +whose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor business here, as +elsewhere, yielded the same golden profit.</p> + +<p>At last he found an individual who had a resort in Warren Street, which +seemed an excellent venture. It was fairly well-appearing and +susceptible of improvement. The owner claimed the business to be +excellent, and it certainly looked so.</p> + +<p>"We deal with a very good class of people," he told Hurstwood. +"Merchants, salesmen, and professionals. It's a well-dressed class. No +bums. We don't allow 'em in the place."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood listened to the cash-register ring, and watched the trade for +a while.</p> + +<p>"It's profitable enough for two, is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You can see for yourself if you're any judge of the liquor trade," said +the owner. "This is only one of the two places I have. The other is down +in Nassau Street. I can't tend to them both alone. If I had some one who +knew the business thoroughly I wouldn't mind sharing with him in this +one and letting him manage it."</p> + +<p>"I've had experience enough," said Hurstwood blandly, but he felt a +little diffident about referring to Fitzgerald and Moy.<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, you can suit yourself, Mr. Wheeler," said the proprietor.</p> + +<p>He only offered a third interest in the stock, fixtures, and good-will, +and this in return for a thousand dollars and managerial ability on the +part of the one who should come in. There was no property involved, +because the owner of the saloon merely rented from an estate.</p> + +<p>The offer was genuine enough, but it was a question with Hurstwood +whether a third interest in that locality could be made to yield one +hundred and fifty dollars a month, which he figured he must have in +order to meet the ordinary family expenses and be comfortable. It was +not the time, however, after many failures to find what he wanted, to +hesitate. It looked as though a third would pay a hundred a month now. +By judicious management and improvement, it might be made to pay more. +Accordingly he agreed to enter into partnership, and made over his +thousand dollars, preparing to enter the next day.</p> + +<p>His first inclination was to be elated, and he confided to Carrie that +he thought he had made an excellent arrangement. Time, however, +introduced food for reflection. He found his partner to be very +disagreeable. Frequently he was the worse for liquor, which made him +surly. This was the last thing which Hurstwood was used to in business. +Besides, the business varied. It was nothing like the class of patronage +which he had enjoyed in Chicago. He found that it would take a long time +to make friends. These people hurried in and out without seeking the +pleasures of friendship. It was no gathering or lounging place. Whole +days and weeks passed without one such hearty greeting as he had been +wont to enjoy every day in Chicago.<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a></p> + +<p>For another thing, Hurstwood missed the celebrities—those well-dressed, +<i>élite</i> individuals who lend grace to the average bars and bring news +from far-off and exclusive circles. He did not see one such in a month. +Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally read in the +evening papers incidents concerning celebrities whom he knew—whom he +had drunk a glass with many a time. They would visit a bar like +Fitzgerald and Moy's in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, uptown, but he +knew that he would never see them down here.</p> + +<p>Again, the business did not pay as well as he thought. It increased a +little, but he found he would have to watch his household expenses, +which was humiliating.</p> + +<p>In the very beginning it was a delight to go home late at night, as he +did, and find Carrie. He managed to run up and take dinner with her +between six and seven, and to remain home until nine o'clock in the +morning, but the novelty of this waned after a time, and he began to +feel the drag of his duties.</p> + +<p>The first month had scarcely passed before Carrie said in a very natural +way: "I think I'll go down this week and buy a dress."</p> + +<p>"What kind?" said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Oh, something for street wear."</p> + +<p>"All right," he answered, smiling, although he noted mentally that it +would be more agreeable to his finances if she didn't. Nothing was said +about it the next day, but the following morning he asked:</p> + +<p>"Have you done anything about your dress?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>He paused a few moments, as if in thought, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Would you mind putting it off a few days?"<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a></p> + +<p>"No," replied Carrie, who did not catch the drift of his remarks. She +had never thought of him in connection with money troubles before. +"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you," said Hurstwood. "This investment of mine is +taking a lot of money just now. I expect to get it all back shortly, but +just at present I am running close."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" answered Carrie. "Why, certainly, dear. Why didn't you tell me +before?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't necessary," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>For all her acquiescence, there was something about the way Hurstwood +spoke which reminded Carrie of Drouet and his little deal which he was +always about to put through. It was only the thought of a second, but it +was a beginning. It was something new in her thinking of Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>Other things followed from time to time, little things of the same sort, +which in their cumulative effect were eventually equal to a full +revelation. Carrie was not dull by any means. Two persons cannot long +dwell together without coming to an understanding of one another. The +mental difficulties of an individual reveal themselves whether he +voluntarily confesses them or not. Trouble gets in the air and +contributes gloom, which speaks for itself. Hurstwood dressed as nicely +as usual, but they were the same clothes he had in Canada. Carrie +noticed that he did not install a large wardrobe, though his own was +anything but large. She noticed, also, that he did not suggest many +amusements, said nothing about the food, seemed concerned about his +business. This was not the easy Hurstwood of Chicago—not the liberal, +opulent Hurstwood she had known. The change was too obvious to escape +detection.</p> + +<p>In time she began to feel that a change had come<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a> about, and that she +was not in his confidence. He was evidently secretive and kept his own +counsel. She found herself asking him questions about little things. +This is a disagreeable state to a woman. Great love makes it seem +reasonable, sometimes plausible, but never satisfactory. Where great +love is not, a more definite and less satisfactory conclusion is +reached.</p> + +<p>As for Hurstwood, he was making a great fight against the difficulties +of a changed condition. He was too shrewd not to realise the tremendous +mistake he had made, and appreciate that he had done well in getting +where he was, and yet he could not help contrasting his present state +with his former, hour after hour, and day after day.</p> + +<p>Besides, he had the disagreeable fear of meeting old-time friends, ever +since one such encounter which he made shortly after his arrival in the +city. It was in Broadway that he saw a man approaching him whom he knew. +There was no time for simulating non-recognition. The exchange of +glances had been too sharp, the knowledge of each other too apparent. So +the friend, a buyer for one of the Chicago wholesale houses, felt, +perforce, the necessity of stopping.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" he said, extending his hand with an evident mixture of +feeling and a lack of plausible interest.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed. "How is it with you?"</p> + +<p>"All right; I'm down here doing a little buying. Are you located here +now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood, "I have a place down in Warren Street."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said the friend. "Glad to hear it. I'll come down and see +you."</p> + +<p>"Do," said Hurstwood.<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a></p> + +<p>"So long," said the other, smiling affably and going on.</p> + +<p>"He never asked for my number," thought Hurstwood; "he wouldn't think of +coming." He wiped his forehead, which had grown damp, and hoped +sincerely he would meet no one else.</p> + +<p>These things told upon his good-nature, such as it was. His one hope was +that things would change for the better in a money way. He had Carrie. +His furniture was being paid for. He was maintaining his position. As +for Carrie, the amusements he could give her would have to do for the +present. He could probably keep up his pretensions sufficiently long +without exposure to make good, and then all would be well. He failed +therein to take account of the frailties of human nature—the +difficulties of matrimonial life. Carrie was young. With him and with +her varying mental states were common. At any moment the extremes of +feeling might be anti-polarised at the dinner table. This often happens +in the best regulated families. Little things brought out on such +occasions need great love to obliterate them afterward. Where that is +not, both parties count two and two and make a problem after a while.<a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /><br /> +<small>A PET OF GOOD FORTUNE: BROADWAY FLAUNTS ITS JOYS</small></h2> + +<p>The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurstwood was paralleled +in the case of Carrie, who accepted the things which fortune provided +with the most genial good-nature. New York, despite her first expression +of disapproval, soon interested her exceedingly. Its clear atmosphere, +more populous thoroughfares, and peculiar indifference struck her +forcibly. She had never seen such a little flat as hers, and yet it soon +enlisted her affection. The new furniture made an excellent showing, the +sideboard which Hurstwood himself arranged gleamed brightly. The +furniture for each room was appropriate, and in the so-called parlour, +or front room, was installed a piano, because Carrie said she would like +to learn to play. She kept a servant and developed rapidly in household +tactics and information. For the first time in her life she felt +settled, and somewhat justified in the eyes of society as she conceived +of it. Her thoughts were merry and innocent enough. For a long while she +concerned herself over the arrangement of New York flats, and wondered +at ten families living in one building and all remaining strange and +indifferent to each other. She also marvelled at the whistles of the +hundreds of vessels in the harbour—the long, low cries of the Sound +steamers and ferry-boats when fog was on. The mere fact that these +things spoke from the sea made them wonderful. She<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a> looked much at what +she could see of the Hudson from her west windows and of the great city +building up rapidly on either hand. It was much to ponder over, and +sufficed to entertain her for more than a year without becoming stale.</p> + +<p>For another thing, Hurstwood was exceedingly interesting in his +affection for her. Troubled as he was, he never exposed his difficulties +to her. He carried himself with the same self-important air, took his +new state with easy familiarity, and rejoiced in Carrie's proclivities +and successes. Each evening he arrived promptly to dinner, and found the +little dining-room a most inviting spectacle. In a way, the smallness of +the room added to its luxury. It looked full and replete. The +white-covered table was arrayed with pretty dishes and lighted with a +four-armed candelabra, each light of which was topped with a red shade. +Between Carrie and the girl the steaks and chops came out all right, and +canned goods did the rest for a while. Carrie studied the art of making +biscuit, and soon reached the stage where she could show a plate of +light, palatable morsels for her labour.</p> + +<p>In this manner the second, third, and fourth months passed. Winter came, +and with it a feeling that indoors was best, so that the attending of +theatres was not much talked of. Hurstwood made great efforts to meet +all expenditures without a show of feeling one way or the other. He +pretended that he was reinvesting his money in strengthening the +business for greater ends in the future. He contented himself with a +very moderate allowance of personal apparel, and rarely suggested +anything for Carrie. Thus the first winter passed.</p> + +<p>In the second year, the business which Hurstwood managed did increase +somewhat. He got out of it<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a> regularly the $150 per month which he had +anticipated. Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certain +conclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaintances.</p> + +<p>Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active and aggressive +nature, Carrie accepted the situation. Her state seemed satisfactory +enough. Once in a while they would go to a theatre together, +occasionally in season to the beaches and different points about the +city, but they picked up no acquaintances. Hurstwood naturally abandoned +his show of fine manners with her and modified his attitude to one of +easy familiarity. There were no misunderstandings, no apparent +differences of opinion. In fact, without money or visiting friends, he +led a life which could neither arouse jealousy nor comment. Carrie +rather sympathised with his efforts and thought nothing upon her lack of +entertainment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago. New York as a +corporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed sufficient.</p> + +<p>However, as Hurstwood's business increased, he, as stated, began to pick +up acquaintances. He also began to allow himself more clothes. He +convinced himself that his home life was very precious to him, but +allowed that he could occasionally stay away from dinner. The first time +he did this he sent a message saying that he would be detained. Carrie +ate alone, and wished that it might not happen again. The second time, +also, he sent word, but at the last moment. The third time he forgot +entirely and explained afterwards. These events were months apart, each.</p> + +<p>"Where were you, George?" asked Carrie, after the first absence.</p> + +<p>"Tied up at the office," he said genially. "There were some accounts I +had to straighten."<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you couldn't get home," she said kindly. "I was fixing to +have such a nice dinner."</p> + +<p>The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the third time the feeling +about it in Carrie's mind was a little bit out of the ordinary.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get home," he said, when he came in later in the evening, "I +was so busy."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you have sent me word?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I meant to," he said, "but you know I forgot it until it was too late +to do any good."</p> + +<p>"And I had such a good dinner!" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Now, it so happened that from his observations of Carrie he began to +imagine that she was of the thoroughly domestic type of mind. He really +thought, after a year, that her chief expression in life was finding its +natural channel in household duties. Notwithstanding the fact that he +had observed her act in Chicago, and that during the past year he had +only seen her limited in her relations to her flat and him by conditions +which he made, and that she had not gained any friends or associates, he +drew this peculiar conclusion. With it came a feeling of satisfaction in +having a wife who could thus be content, and this satisfaction worked +its natural result. That is, since he imagined he saw her satisfied, he +felt called upon to give only that which contributed to such +satisfaction. He supplied the furniture, the decorations, the food, and +the necessary clothing. Thoughts of entertaining her, leading her out +into the shine and show of life, grew less and less. He felt attracted +to the outer world, but did not think she would care to go along. Once +he went to the theatre alone. Another time he joined a couple of his new +friends at an evening game of poker. Since his money-feathers were +beginning to grow again he felt like sprucing about. All this, however, +in a much less<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a> imposing way than had been his wont in Chicago. He +avoided the gay places where he would be apt to meet those who had known +him.</p> + +<p>Now, Carrie began to feel this in various sensory ways. She was not the +kind to be seriously disturbed by his actions. Not loving him greatly, +she could not be jealous in a disturbing way. In fact, she was not +jealous at all. Hurstwood was pleased with her placid manner, when he +should have duly considered it. When he did not come home it did not +seem anything like a terrible thing to her. She gave him credit for +having the usual allurements of men—people to talk to, places to stop, +friends to consult with. She was perfectly willing that he should enjoy +himself in his way, but she did not care to be neglected herself. Her +state still seemed fairly reasonable, however. All she did observe was +that Hurstwood was somewhat different.</p> + +<p>Some time in the second year of their residence in Seventy-eighth Street +the flat across the hall from Carrie became vacant, and into it moved a +very handsome young woman and her husband, with both of whom Carrie +afterwards became acquainted. This was brought about solely by the +arrangement of the flats, which were united in one place, as it were, by +the dumb-waiter. This useful elevator, by which fuel, groceries, and the +like were sent up from the basement, and garbage and waste sent down, +was used by both residents of one floor; that is, a small door opened +into it from each flat.</p> + +<p>If the occupants of both flats answered to the whistle of the janitor at +the same time, they would stand face to face when they opened the +dumb-waiter doors. One morning, when Carrie went to remove her paper, +the newcomer, a handsome brunette of perhaps twenty-three years of age, +was there for a like purpose. She<a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a> was in a night-robe and +dressing-gown, with her hair very much tousled, but she looked so pretty +and good-natured that Carrie instantly conceived a liking for her. The +newcomer did no more than smile shamefacedly, but it was sufficient. +Carrie felt that she would like to know her, and a similar feeling +stirred in the mind of the other, who admired Carrie's innocent face.</p> + +<p>"That's a real pretty woman who has moved in next door," said Carrie to +Hurstwood at the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie. "The name on the bell is Vance. Some one +over there plays beautifully. I guess it must be she."</p> + +<p>"Well, you never can tell what sort of people you're living next to in +this town, can you?" said Hurstwood, expressing the customary New York +opinion about neighbours.</p> + +<p>"Just think," said Carrie, "I have been in this house with nine other +families for over a year and I don't know a soul. These people have been +here over a month and I haven't seen any one before this morning."</p> + +<p>"It's just as well," said Hurstwood. "You never know who you're going to +get in with. Some of these people are pretty bad company."</p> + +<p>"I expect so," said Carrie, agreeably.</p> + +<p>The conversation turned to other things, and Carrie thought no more upon +the subject until a day or two later, when, going out to market, she +encountered Mrs. Vance coming in. The latter recognised her and nodded, +for which Carrie returned a smile. This settled the probability of +acquaintanceship. If there had been no faint recognition on this +occasion, there would have been no future association.</p> + +<p>Carrie saw no more of Mrs. Vance for several weeks, but she heard her +play through the thin walls which<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a> divided the front rooms of the flats, +and was pleased by the merry selection of pieces and the brilliance of +their rendition. She could play only moderately herself, and such +variety as Mrs. Vance exercised bordered, for Carrie, upon the verge of +great art. Everything she had seen and heard thus far—the merest scraps +and shadows—indicated that these people were, in a measure, refined and +in comfortable circumstances. So Carrie was ready for any extension of +the friendship which might follow.</p> + +<p>One day Carrie's bell rang and the servant, who was in the kitchen, +pressed the button which caused the front door of the general entrance +on the ground floor to be electrically unlatched. When Carrie waited at +her own door on the third floor to see who it might be coming up to call +on her, Mrs. Vance appeared.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll excuse me," she said. "I went out a while ago and forgot +my outside key, so I thought I'd ring your bell."</p> + +<p>This was a common trick of other residents of the building, whenever +they had forgotten their outside keys. They did not apologise for it, +however.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Carrie. "I'm glad you did. I do the same thing +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it just delightful weather?" said Mrs. Vance, pausing for a +moment.</p> + +<p>Thus, after a few more preliminaries, this visiting acquaintance was +well launched, and in the young Mrs. Vance Carrie found an agreeable +companion.</p> + +<p>On several occasions Carrie visited her and was visited. Both flats were +good to look upon, though that of the Vances tended somewhat more to the +luxurious.</p> + +<p>"I want you to come over this evening and meet my husband," said Mrs. +Vance, not long after their intimacy<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a> began. "He wants to meet you. You +play cards, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"A little," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll have a game of cards. If your husband comes home bring him +over."</p> + +<p>"He's not coming to dinner to-night," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, when he does come we'll call him in."</p> + +<p>Carrie acquiesced, and that evening met the portly Vance, an individual +a few years younger than Hurstwood, and who owed his seemingly +comfortable matrimonial state much more to his money than to his good +looks. He thought well of Carrie upon the first glance and laid himself +out to be genial, teaching her a new game of cards and talking to her +about New York and its pleasures. Mrs. Vance played some upon the piano, +and at last Hurstwood came.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to meet you," he said to Mrs. Vance when Carrie +introduced him, showing much of the old grace which had captivated +Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Did you think your wife had run away?" said Mr. Vance, extending his +hand upon introduction.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know but what she might have found a better husband," said +Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>He now turned his attention to Mrs. Vance, and in a flash Carrie saw +again what she for some time had sub-consciously missed in +Hurstwood—the adroitness and flattery of which he was capable. She also +saw that she was not well dressed—not nearly as well dressed—as Mrs. +Vance. These were not vague ideas any longer. Her situation was cleared +up for her. She felt that her life was becoming stale, and therein she +felt cause for gloom. The old helpful, urging melancholy was restored. +The desirous Carrie was whispered to concerning her possibilities.</p> + +<p>There were no immediate results to this awakening,<a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a> for Carrie had +little power of initiative; but, nevertheless, she seemed ever capable +of getting herself into the tide of change where she would be easily +borne along. Hurstwood noticed nothing. He had been unconscious of the +marked contrasts which Carrie had observed. He did not even detect the +shade of melancholy which settled in her eyes. Worst of all, she now +began to feel the loneliness of the flat and seek the company of Mrs. +Vance, who liked her exceedingly.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to the matinée this afternoon," said Mrs. Vance, who had +stepped across into Carrie's flat one morning, still arrayed in a soft +pink dressing-gown, which she had donned upon rising. Hurstwood and +Vance had gone their separate ways nearly an hour before.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Carrie, noticing the air of the petted and +well-groomed woman in Mrs. Vance's general appearance. She looked as +though she was dearly loved and her every wish gratified. "What shall we +see?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do want to see Nat Goodwin," said Mrs. Vance. "I do think he is +the jolliest actor. The papers say this is such a good play."</p> + +<p>"What time will we have to start?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Let's go at one and walk down Broadway from Thirty-fourth Street," said +Mrs. Vance. "It's such an interesting walk. He's at the Madison Square."</p> + +<p>"I'll be glad to go," said Carrie. "How much will we have to pay for +seats?"</p> + +<p>"Not more than a dollar," said Mrs. Vance.</p> + +<p>The latter departed, and at one o'clock reappeared, stunningly arrayed +in a dark-blue walking dress, with a nobby hat to match. Carrie had +gotten herself up charmingly enough, but this woman pained her by +contrast. She seemed to have so many dainty little things which Carrie +had not. There were trinkets of gold, an<a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a> elegant green leather purse +set with her initials, a fancy handkerchief, exceedingly rich in design, +and the like. Carrie felt that she needed more and better clothes to +compare with this woman, and that any one looking at the two would pick +Mrs. Vance for her raiment alone. It was a trying, though rather unjust +thought, for Carrie had now developed an equally pleasing figure, and +had grown in comeliness until she was a thoroughly attractive type of +her colour of beauty. There was some difference in the clothing of the +two, both of quality and age, but this difference was not especially +noticeable. It served, however, to augment Carrie's dissatisfaction with +her state.</p> + +<p>The walk down Broadway, then as now, was one of the remarkable features +of the city. There gathered, before the matinée and afterwards, not only +all the pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men who love to +gaze upon and admire them. It was a very imposing procession of pretty +faces and fine clothes. Women appeared in their very best hats, shoes, +and gloves, and walked arm in arm on their way to the fine shops or +theatres strung along from Fourteenth to Thirty-fourth streets. Equally +the men paraded with the very latest they could afford. A tailor might +have secured hints on suit measurements, a shoemaker on proper lasts and +colours, a hatter on hats. It was literally true that if a lover of fine +clothes secured a new suit, it was sure to have its first airing on +Broadway. So true and well understood was this fact, that several years +later a popular song, detailing this and other facts concerning the +afternoon parade on matinée days, and entitled "What Right Has He on +Broadway?" was published, and had quite a vogue about the music-halls of +the city.</p> + +<p>In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a> this showy +parade; had never even been on Broadway when it was taking place. On the +other hand, it was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not only knew of +it as an entity, but had often been in it, going purposely to see and be +seen, to create a stir with her beauty and dispel any tendency to fall +short in dressiness by contrasting herself with the beauty and fashion +of the town.</p> + +<p>Carrie stepped along easily enough after they got out of the car at +Thirty-fourth Street, but soon fixed her eyes upon the lovely company +which swarmed by and with them as they proceeded. She noticed suddenly +that Mrs. Vance's manner had rather stiffened under the gaze of handsome +men and elegantly dressed ladies, whose glances were not modified by any +rules of propriety. To stare seemed the proper and natural thing. Carrie +found herself stared at and ogled. Men in flawless top-coats, high hats, +and silver-headed walking sticks elbowed near and looked too often into +conscious eyes. Ladies rustled by in dresses of stiff cloth, shedding +affected smiles and perfume. Carrie noticed among them the sprinkling of +goodness and the heavy percentage of vice. The rouged and powdered +cheeks and lips, the scented hair, the large, misty, and languorous eye, +were common enough. With a start she awoke to find that she was in +fashion's crowd, on parade in a show place—and such a show place! +Jewellers' windows gleamed along the path with remarkable frequency. +Florist shops, furriers, haberdashers, confectioners—all followed in +rapid succession. The street was full of coaches. Pompous doormen in +immense coats, shiny brass belts and buttons, waited in front of +expensive salesrooms. Coachmen in tan boots, white tights, and blue +jackets waited obsequiously for the mistresses of carriages who were +shopping inside.<a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a> The whole street bore the flavour of riches and show, +and Carrie felt that she was not of it. She could not, for the life of +her, assume the attitude and smartness of Mrs. Vance, who, in her +beauty, was all assurance. She could only imagine that it must be +evident to many that she was the less handsomely dressed of the two. It +cut her to the quick, and she resolved that she would not come here +again until she looked better. At the same time she longed to feel the +delight of parading here as an equal. Ah, then she would be happy!<a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /><br /> +<small>THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR: A SEER TO TRANSLATE</small></h2> + +<p>Such feelings as were generated in Carrie by this walk put her in an +exceedingly receptive mood for the pathos which followed in the play. +The actor whom they had gone to see had achieved his popularity by +presenting a mellow type of comedy, in which sufficient sorrow was +introduced to lend contrast and relief to humour. For Carrie, as we well +know, the stage had a great attraction. She had never forgotten her one +histrionic achievement in Chicago. It dwelt in her mind and occupied her +consciousness during many long afternoons in which her rocking-chair and +her latest novel contributed the only pleasures of her state. Never +could she witness a play without having her own ability vividly brought +to consciousness. Some scenes made her long to be a part of them—to +give expression to the feelings which she, in the place of the character +represented, would feel. Almost invariably she would carry the vivid +imaginations away with her and brood over them the next day alone. She +lived as much in these things as in the realities which made up her +daily life.</p> + +<p>It was not often that she came to the play stirred to her heart's core +by actualities. To-day a low song of longing had been set singing in her +heart by the finery, the merriment, the beauty she had seen. Oh, these +women who had passed her by, hundreds and hundreds strong, who were +they? Whence came the rich, elegant<a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a> dresses, the astonishingly coloured +buttons, the knick-knacks of silver and gold? Where were these lovely +creatures housed? Amid what elegancies of carved furniture, decorated +walls, elaborate tapestries did they move? Where were their rich +apartments, loaded with all that money could provide? In what stables +champed these sleek, nervous horses and rested the gorgeous carriages? +Where lounged the richly groomed footmen? Oh, the mansions, the lights, +the perfume, the loaded boudoirs and tables! New York must be filled +with such bowers, or the beautiful, insolent, supercilious creatures +could not be. Some hot-houses held them. It ached her to know that she +was not one of them—that, alas, she had dreamed a dream and it had not +come true. She wondered at her own solitude these two years past—her +indifference to the fact that she had never achieved what she had +expected.</p> + +<p>The play was one of those drawing-room concoctions in which charmingly +overdressed ladies and gentlemen suffer the pangs of love and jealousy +amid gilded surroundings. Such bon-mots are ever enticing to those who +have all their days longed for such material surroundings and have never +had them gratified. They have the charm of showing suffering under ideal +conditions. Who would not grieve upon a gilded chair? Who would not +suffer amid perfumed tapestries, cushioned furniture, and liveried +servants? Grief under such circumstances becomes an enticing thing. +Carrie longed to be of it. She wanted to take her sufferings, whatever +they were, in such a world, or failing that, at least to simulate them +under such charming conditions upon the stage. So affected was her mind +by what she had seen, that the play now seemed an extraordinarily +beautiful thing. She was soon lost in the world it represented, and +wished that she might<a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a> never return. Between the acts she studied the +galaxy of matinée attendants in front rows and boxes, and conceived a +new idea of the possibilities of New York. She was sure she had not seen +it all—that the city was one whirl of pleasure and delight.</p> + +<p>Going out, the same Broadway taught her a sharper lesson. The scene she +had witnessed coming down was now augmented and at its height. Such a +crush of finery and folly she had never seen. It clinched her +convictions concerning her state. She had not lived, could not lay claim +to having lived, until something of this had come into her own life. +Women were spending money like water; she could see that in every +elegant shop she passed. Flowers, candy, jewelry, seemed the principal +things in which the elegant dames were interested. And she—she had +scarcely enough pin money to indulge in such outings as this a few times +a month.</p> + +<p>That night the pretty little flat seemed a commonplace thing. It was not +what the rest of the world was enjoying. She saw the servant working at +dinner with an indifferent eye. In her mind were running scenes of the +play. Particularly she remembered one beautiful actress—the sweetheart +who had been wooed and won. The grace of this woman had won Carrie's +heart. Her dresses had been all that art could suggest, her sufferings +had been so real. The anguish which she had portrayed Carrie could feel. +It was done as she was sure she could do it. There were places in which +she could even do better. Hence she repeated the lines to herself. Oh, +if she could only have such a part, how broad would be her life! She, +too, could act appealingly.</p> + +<p>When Hurstwood came, Carrie was moody. She was sitting, rocking and +thinking, and did not care to<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a> have her enticing imaginations broken in +upon; so she said little or nothing.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Carrie?" said Hurstwood after a time, noticing her +quiet, almost moody state.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Carrie. "I don't feel very well to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not sick, are you?" he asked, approaching very close.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said, almost pettishly, "I just don't feel very good."</p> + +<p>"That's too bad," he said, stepping away and adjusting his vest after +his slight bending over. "I was thinking we might go to a show +to-night."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go," said Carrie, annoyed that her fine visions should +have thus been broken into and driven out of her mind. "I've been to the +matinée this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you have?" said Hurstwood. "What was it?"</p> + +<p>"A Gold Mine."</p> + +<p>"How was it?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty good," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"And you don't want to go again to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I do," she said.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, wakened out of her melancholia and called to the dinner +table, she changed her mind. A little food in the stomach does wonders. +She went again, and in so doing temporarily recovered her equanimity. +The great awakening blow had, however, been delivered. As often as she +might recover from these discontented thoughts now, they would occur +again. Time and repetition—ah, the wonder of it! The dropping water and +the solid stone—how utterly it yields at last!</p> + +<p>Not long after this matinée experience—perhaps a<a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a> month—Mrs. Vance +invited Carrie to an evening at the theatre with them. She heard Carrie +say that Hurstwood was not coming home to dinner.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come with us? Don't get dinner for yourself. We're going +down to Sherry's for dinner and then over to the Lyceum. Come along with +us."</p> + +<p>"I think I will," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>She began to dress at three o'clock for her departure at half-past five +for the noted dining-room which was then crowding Delmonico's for +position in society. In this dressing Carrie showed the influence of her +association with the dashing Mrs. Vance. She had constantly had her +attention called by the latter to novelties in everything which pertains +to a woman's apparel.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to get such and such a hat?" or, "Have you seen the new +gloves with the oval pearl buttons?" were but sample phrases out of a +large selection.</p> + +<p>"The next time you get a pair of shoes, dearie," said Mrs. Vance, "get +button, with thick soles and patent-leather tips. They're all the rage +this fall."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, have you seen the new shirtwaists at Altman's? They have some +of the loveliest patterns. I saw one there that I know would look +stunning on you. I said so when I saw it."</p> + +<p>Carrie listened to these things with considerable interest, for they +were suggested with more of friendliness than is usually common between +pretty women. Mrs. Vance liked Carrie's stable good-nature so well that +she really took pleasure in suggesting to her the latest things.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you get yourself one of those nice serge skirts they're +selling at Lord & Taylor's?" she said one day. "They're the circular +style, and they're going to<a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a> be worn from now on. A dark blue one would +look so nice on you."</p> + +<p>Carrie listened with eager ears. These things never came up between her +and Hurstwood. Nevertheless, she began to suggest one thing and another, +which Hurstwood agreed to without any expression of opinion. He noticed +the new tendency on Carrie's part, and finally, hearing much of Mrs. +Vance and her delightful ways, suspected whence the change came. He was +not inclined to offer the slightest objection so soon, but he felt that +Carrie's wants were expanding. This did not appeal to him exactly, but +he cared for her in his own way, and so the thing stood. Still, there +was something in the details of the transactions which caused Carrie to +feel that her requests were not a delight to him. He did not enthuse +over the purchases. This led her to believe that neglect was creeping +in, and so another small wedge was entered.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, one of the results of Mrs. Vance's suggestions was the +fact that on this occasion Carrie was dressed somewhat to her own +satisfaction. She had on her best, but there was comfort in the thought +that if she must confine herself to a <i>best</i>, it was neat and fitting. +She looked the well-groomed woman of twenty-one, and Mrs. Vance praised +her, which brought colour to her plump cheeks and a noticeable +brightness into her large eyes. It was threatening rain, and Mr. Vance, +at his wife's request, had called a coach.</p> + +<p>"Your husband isn't coming?" suggested Mr. Vance, as he met Carrie in +his little parlour.</p> + +<p>"No; he said he wouldn't be home for dinner."</p> + +<p>"Better leave a little note for him, telling him where we are. He might +turn up."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Carrie, who had not thought of it before.<a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a></p> + +<p>"Tell him we'll be at Sherry's until eight o'clock. He knows, though, I +guess."</p> + +<p>Carrie crossed the hall with rustling skirts, and scrawled the note, +gloves on. When she returned a newcomer was in the Vance flat.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce Mr. Ames, a cousin of mine," said Mrs. +Vance. "He's going along with us, aren't you, Bob?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to meet you," said Ames, bowing politely to Carrie.</p> + +<p>The latter caught in a glance the dimensions of a very stalwart figure. +She also noticed that he was smooth-shaven, good looking, and young, but +nothing more.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ames is just down in New York for a few days," put in Vance, "and +we're trying to show him around a little."</p> + +<p>"Oh, are you?" said Carrie, taking another glance at the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am just on here from Indianapolis for a week or so," said young +Ames, seating himself on the edge of a chair to wait while Mrs. Vance +completed the last touches of her toilet.</p> + +<p>"I guess you find New York quite a thing to see, don't you?" said +Carrie, venturing something to avoid a possible deadly silence.</p> + +<p>"It is rather large to get around in a week," answered Ames, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>He was an exceedingly genial soul, this young man, and wholly free of +affectation. It seemed to Carrie he was as yet only overcoming the last +traces of the bashfulness of youth. He did not seem apt at conversation, +but he had the merit of being well dressed and wholly courageous. Carrie +felt as if it were not going to be hard to talk to him.<a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, I guess we're ready now. The coach is outside."</p> + +<p>"Come on, people," said Mrs. Vance, coming in smiling. "Bob, you'll have +to look after Mrs. Wheeler."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to," said Bob smiling, and edging closer to Carrie. "You won't +need much watching, will you?" he volunteered, in a sort of ingratiating +and help-me-out kind of way.</p> + +<p>"Not very, I hope," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>They descended the stairs, Mrs. Vance offering suggestions, and climbed +into the open coach.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Vance, slamming the coach door, and the conveyance +rolled away.</p> + +<p>"What is it we're going to see?" asked Ames.</p> + +<p>"Sothern," said Vance, "in 'Lord Chumley.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is so good!" said Mrs. Vance. "He's just the funniest man."</p> + +<p>"I notice the papers praise it," said Ames.</p> + +<p>"I haven't any doubt," put in Vance, "but we'll all enjoy it very much."</p> + +<p>Ames had taken a seat beside Carrie, and accordingly he felt it his +bounden duty to pay her some attention. He was interested to find her so +young a wife, and so pretty, though it was only a respectful interest. +There was nothing of the dashing lady's man about him. He had respect +for the married state, and thought only of some pretty marriageable +girls in Indianapolis.</p> + +<p>"Are you a born New Yorker?" asked Ames of Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I've only been here for two years."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you've had time to see a great deal of it, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I don't seem to have," answered Carrie. "It's about as strange to me as +when I first came here."</p> + +<p>"You're not from the West, are you?"<a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes. I'm from Wisconsin," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, it does seem as if most people in this town haven't been here so +very long. I hear of lots of Indiana people in my line who are here."</p> + +<p>"What is your line?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I'm connected with an electrical company," said the youth.</p> + +<p>Carrie followed up this desultory conversation with occasional +interruptions from the Vances. Several times it became general and +partially humorous, and in that manner the restaurant was reached.</p> + +<p>Carrie had noticed the appearance of gayety and pleasure-seeking in the +streets which they were following. Coaches were numerous, pedestrians +many, and in Fifty-ninth Street the street cars were crowded. At +Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue a blaze of lights from several new +hotels which bordered the Plaza Square gave a suggestion of sumptuous +hotel life. Fifth Avenue, the home of the wealthy, was noticeably +crowded with carriages, and gentlemen in evening dress. At Sherry's an +imposing doorman opened the coach door and helped them out. Young Ames +held Carrie's elbow as he helped her up the steps. They entered the +lobby already swarming with patrons, and then, after divesting +themselves of their wraps, went into a sumptuous dining-room.</p> + +<p>In all Carrie's experience she had never seen anything like this. In the +whole time she had been in New York Hurstwood's modified state had not +permitted his bringing her to such a place. There was an almost +indescribable atmosphere about it which convinced the newcomer that this +was the proper thing. Here was the place where the matter of expense +limited the patrons to the moneyed or pleasure-loving class. Carrie had +read of it often in the "Morning" and "Evening<a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a> World." She had seen +notices of dances, parties, balls, and suppers at Sherry's. The Misses +So-and-so would give a party on Wednesday evening at Sherry's. Young Mr. +So-and-so would entertain a party of friends at a private luncheon on +the sixteenth, at Sherry's. The common run of conventional, perfunctory +notices of the doings of society, which she could scarcely refrain from +scanning each day, had given her a distinct idea of the gorgeousness and +luxury of this wonderful temple of gastronomy. Now, at last, she was +really in it. She had come up the imposing steps, guarded by the large +and portly doorman. She had seen the lobby, guarded by another large and +portly gentleman, and been waited upon by uniformed youths who took care +of canes, overcoats, and the like. Here was the splendid dining-chamber, +all decorated and aglow, where the wealthy ate. Ah, how fortunate was +Mrs. Vance; young, beautiful, and well off—at least, sufficiently so to +come here in a coach. What a wonderful thing it was to be rich.</p> + +<p>Vance led the way through lanes of shining tables, at which were seated +parties of two, three, four, five, or six. The air of assurance and +dignity about it all was exceedingly noticeable to the novitiate. +Incandescent lights, the reflection of their glow in polished glasses, +and the shine of gilt upon the walls, combined into one tone of light +which it requires minutes of complacent observation to separate and take +particular note of. The white shirt fronts of the gentlemen, the bright +costumes of the ladies, diamonds, jewels, fine feathers—all were +exceedingly noticeable.</p> + +<p>Carrie walked with an air equal to that of Mrs. Vance, and accepted the +seat which the head waiter provided for her. She was keenly aware of all +the little things that were done—the little genuflections and +attentions<a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a> of the waiters and head waiter which Americans pay for. The +air with which the latter pulled out each chair, and the wave of the +hand with which he motioned them to be seated, were worth several +dollars in themselves.</p> + +<p>Once seated, there began that exhibition of showy, wasteful, and +unwholesome gastronomy as practised by wealthy Americans, which is the +wonder and astonishment of true culture and dignity the world over. The +large bill of fare held an array of dishes sufficient to feed an army, +sidelined with prices which made reasonable expenditure a ridiculous +impossibility—an order of soup at fifty cents or a dollar, with a dozen +kinds to choose from; oysters in forty styles and at sixty cents the +half-dozen; entrées, fish, and meats at prices which would house one +over night in an average hotel. One dollar fifty and two dollars seemed +to be the most common figures upon this most tastefully printed bill of +fare.</p> + +<p>Carrie noticed this, and in scanning it the price of spring chicken +carried her back to that other bill of fare and far different occasion +when, for the first time, she sat with Drouet in a good restaurant in +Chicago. It was only momentary—a sad note as out of an old song—and +then it was gone. But in that flash was seen the other Carrie—poor, +hungry, drifting at her wits' ends, and all Chicago a cold and closed +world, from which she only wandered because she could not find work.</p> + +<p>On the walls were designs in colour, square spots of robin's-egg blue, +set in ornate frames of gilt, whose corners were elaborate mouldings of +fruit and flowers, with fat cupids hovering in angelic comfort. On the +ceilings were coloured traceries with more gilt, leading to a centre +where spread a cluster of lights—incandescent<a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a> globes mingled with +glittering prisms and stucco tendrils of gilt. The floor was of a +reddish hue, waxed and polished, and in every direction were +mirrors—tall, brilliant, bevel-edged mirrors—reflecting and +re-reflecting forms, faces, and candelabra a score and a hundred times.</p> + +<p>The tables were not so remarkable in themselves, and yet the imprint of +Sherry upon the napery, the name of Tiffany upon the silverware, the +name of Haviland upon the china, and over all the glow of the small, +red-shaded candelabra and the reflected tints of the walls on garments +and faces, made them seem remarkable. Each waiter added an air of +exclusiveness and elegance by the manner in which he bowed, scraped, +touched, and trifled with things. The exclusively personal attention +which he devoted to each one, standing half bent, ear to one side, +elbows akimbo, saying: "Soup—green turtle, yes. One portion, yes. +Oysters—certainly—half-dozen—yes. Asparagus. Olives—yes."</p> + +<p>It would be the same with each one, only Vance essayed to order for all, +inviting counsel and suggestions. Carrie studied the company with open +eyes. So this was high life in New York. It was so that the rich spent +their days and evenings. Her poor little mind could not rise above +applying each scene to all society. Every fine lady must be in the crowd +on Broadway in the afternoon, in the theatre at the matinée, in the +coaches and dining-halls at night. It must be glow and shine everywhere, +with coaches waiting, and footmen attending, and she was out of it all. +In two long years she had never even been in such a place as this.</p> + +<p>Vance was in his element here, as Hurstwood would have been in former +days. He ordered freely of soup, oysters, roast meats, and side dishes, +and had several<a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a> bottles of wine brought, which were set down beside the +table in a wicker basket.</p> + +<p>Ames was looking away rather abstractedly at the crowd and showed an +interesting profile to Carrie. His forehead was high, his nose rather +large and strong, his chin moderately pleasing. He had a good, wide, +well-shaped mouth, and his dark-brown hair was parted slightly on one +side. He seemed to have the least touch of boyishness to Carrie, and yet +he was a man full grown.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, turning back to Carrie, after his reflection, "I +sometimes think it is a shame for people to spend so much money this +way."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him a moment with the faintest touch of surprise at his +seriousness. He seemed to be thinking about something over which she had +never pondered.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" she answered, interestedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "they pay so much more than these things are worth. They +put on so much show."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why people shouldn't spend when they have it," said Mrs. +Vance.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't do any harm," said Vance, who was still studying the bill of +fare, though he had ordered.</p> + +<p>Ames was looking away again, and Carrie was again looking at his +forehead. To her he seemed to be thinking about strange things. As he +studied the crowd his eye was mild.</p> + +<p>"Look at that woman's dress over there," he said, again turning to +Carrie, and nodding in a direction.</p> + +<p>"Where?" said Carrie, following his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Over there in the corner—way over. Do you see that brooch?"<a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a></p> + +<p>"Isn't it large?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"One of the largest clusters of jewels I have ever seen," said Ames.</p> + +<p>"It is, isn't it?" said Carrie. She felt as if she would like to be +agreeable to this young man, and also there came with it, or perhaps +preceded it, the slightest shade of a feeling that he was better +educated than she was—that his mind was better. He seemed to look it, +and the saving grace in Carrie was that she could understand that people +could be wiser. She had seen a number of people in her life who reminded +her of what she had vaguely come to think of as scholars. This strong +young man beside her, with his clear, natural look, seemed to get a hold +of things which she did not quite understand, but approved of. It was +fine to be so, as a man, she thought.</p> + +<p>The conversation changed to a book that was having its vogue at the +time—"Moulding a Maiden," by Albert Ross. Mrs. Vance had read it. Vance +had seen it discussed in some of the papers.</p> + +<p>"A man can make quite a strike writing a book," said Vance. "I notice +this fellow Ross is very much talked about." He was looking at Carrie as +he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't heard of him," said Carrie, honestly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have," said Mrs. Vance. "He's written lots of things. This last +story is pretty good."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't amount to much," said Ames.</p> + +<p>Carrie turned her eyes toward him as to an oracle.</p> + +<p>"His stuff is nearly as bad as 'Dora Thorne,'" concluded Ames.</p> + +<p>Carrie felt this as a personal reproof. She read "Dora Thorne," or had a +great deal in the past. It seemed only fair to her, but she supposed +that people thought it very fine. Now this clear-eyed, fine-headed +youth, who looked something like a student to her, made fun of it.<a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a> It +was poor to him, not worth reading. She looked down, and for the first +time felt the pain of not understanding.</p> + +<p>Yet there was nothing sarcastic or supercilious in the way Ames spoke. +He had very little of that in him. Carrie felt that it was just kindly +thought of a high order—the right thing to think, and wondered what +else was right, according to him. He seemed to notice that she listened +and rather sympathised with him, and from now on he talked mostly to +her.</p> + +<p>As the waiter bowed and scraped about, felt the dishes to see if they +were hot enough, brought spoons and forks, and did all those little +attentive things calculated to impress the luxury of the situation upon +the diner, Ames also leaned slightly to one side and told her of +Indianapolis in an intelligent way. He really had a very bright mind, +which was finding its chief development in electrical knowledge. His +sympathies for other forms of information, however, and for types of +people, were quick and warm. The red glow on his head gave it a sandy +tinge and put a bright glint in his eye. Carrie noticed all these things +as he leaned toward her and felt exceedingly young. This man was far +ahead of her. He seemed wiser than Hurstwood, saner and brighter than +Drouet. He seemed innocent and clean, and she thought that he was +exceedingly pleasant. She noticed, also, that his interest in her was a +far-off one. She was not in his life, nor any of the things that touched +his life, and yet now, as he spoke of these things, they appealed to +her.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't care to be rich," he told her, as the dinner proceeded and +the supply of food warmed up his sympathies; "not rich enough to spend +my money this way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wouldn't you?" said Carrie, the, to her, new<a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a> attitude forcing +itself distinctly upon her for the first time.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "What good would it do? A man doesn't need this sort of +thing to be happy."</p> + +<p>Carrie thought of this doubtfully; but, coming from him, it had weight +with her.</p> + +<p>"He probably could be happy," she thought to herself, "all alone. He's +so strong."</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Vance kept up a running fire of interruptions, and these +impressive things by Ames came at odd moments. They were sufficient, +however, for the atmosphere that went with this youth impressed itself +upon Carrie without words. There was something in him, or the world he +moved in, which appealed to her. He reminded her of scenes she had seen +on the stage—the sorrows and sacrifices that always went with she knew +not what. He had taken away some of the bitterness of the contrast +between this life and her life, and all by a certain calm indifference +which concerned only him.</p> + +<p>As they went out, he took her arm and helped her into the coach, and +then they were off again, and so to the show.</p> + +<p>During the acts Carrie found herself listening to him very attentively. +He mentioned things in the play which she most approved of—things which +swayed her deeply.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it rather fine to be an actor?" she asked once.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," he said, "to be a good one. I think the theatre a great +thing."</p> + +<p>Just this little approval set Carrie's heart bounding. Ah, if she could +only be an actress—a good one! This man was wise—he knew—and he +approved of it. If she were a fine actress, such men as he would +approve<a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a> of her. She felt that he was good to speak as he had, although +it did not concern her at all. She did not know why she felt this way.</p> + +<p>At the close of the show it suddenly developed that he was not going +back with them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, aren't you?" said Carrie, with an unwarrantable feeling.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," he said; "I'm stopping right around here in Thirty-third +Street."</p> + +<p>Carrie could not say anything else, but somehow this development shocked +her. She had been regretting the wane of a pleasant evening, but she had +thought there was a half-hour more. Oh, the half-hours, the minutes of +the world; what miseries and griefs are crowded into them!</p> + +<p>She said good-bye with feigned indifference. What matter could it make? +Still, the coach seemed lorn.</p> + +<p>When she went into her own flat she had this to think about. She did not +know whether she would ever see this man any more. What difference could +it make—what difference could it make?</p> + +<p>Hurstwood had returned, and was already in bed. His clothes were +scattered loosely about. Carrie came to the door and saw him, then +retreated. She did not want to go in yet a while. She wanted to think. +It was disagreeable to her.</p> + +<p>Back in the dining-room she sat in her chair and rocked. Her little +hands were folded tightly as she thought. Through a fog of longing and +conflicting desires she was beginning to see. Oh, ye legions of hope and +pity—of sorrow and pain! She was rocking, and beginning to see.<a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /><br /> +<small>WITHOUT THE WALLED CITY: THE SLOPE OF THE YEARS</small></h2> + +<p>The immediate result of this was nothing. Results from such things are +usually long in growing. Morning brings a change of feeling. The +existent condition invariably pleads for itself. It is only at odd +moments that we get glimpses of the misery of things. The heart +understands when it is confronted with contrasts. Take them away and the +ache subsides.</p> + +<p>Carrie went on, leading much this same life for six months thereafter or +more. She did not see Ames any more. He called once upon the Vances, but +she only heard about it through the young wife. Then he went West, and +there was a gradual subsidence of whatever personal attraction had +existed. The mental effect of the thing had not gone, however, and never +would entirely. She had an ideal to contrast men by—particularly men +close to her.</p> + +<p>During all this time—a period rapidly approaching three +years—Hurstwood had been moving along in an even path. There was no +apparent slope downward, and distinctly none upward, so far as the +casual observer might have seen. But psychologically there was a change, +which was marked enough to suggest the future very distinctly indeed. +This was in the mere matter of the halt his career had received when he +departed from Chicago. A man's fortune or material progress is very much +the same as his bodily growth. Either he is growing stronger, healthier, +wiser, as the<a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a> youth approaching manhood, or he is growing weaker, +older, less incisive mentally, as the man approaching old age. There are +no other states. Frequently there is a period between the cessation of +youthful accretion and the setting in, in the case of the middle-aged +man, of the tendency toward decay when the two processes are almost +perfectly balanced and there is little doing in either direction. Given +time enough, however, the balance becomes a sagging to the grave side. +Slowly at first, then with a modest momentum, and at last the graveward +process is in the full swing. So it is frequently with man's fortune. If +its process of accretion is never halted, if the balancing stage is +never reached, there will be no toppling. Rich men are, frequently, in +these days, saved from this dissolution of their fortune by their +ability to hire younger brains. These younger brains look upon the +interests of the fortune as their own, and so steady and direct its +progress. If each individual were left absolutely to the care of his own +interests, and were given time enough in which to grow exceedingly old, +his fortune would pass as his strength and will. He and his would be +utterly dissolved and scattered unto the four winds of the heavens.</p> + +<p>But now see wherein the parallel changes. A fortune, like a man, is an +organism which draws to itself other minds and other strength than that +inherent in the founder. Beside the young minds drawn to it by salaries, +it becomes allied with young forces, which make for its existence even +when the strength and wisdom of the founder are fading. It may be +conserved by the growth of a community or of a state. It may be involved +in providing something for which there is a growing demand. This removes +it at once beyond the special care of the founder. It needs not so much +foresight<a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a> now as direction. The man wanes, the need continues or grows, +and the fortune, fallen into whose hands it may, continues. Hence, some +men never recognise the turning in the tide of their abilities. It is +only in chance cases, where a fortune or a state of success is wrested +from them, that the lack of ability to do as they did formerly becomes +apparent. Hurstwood, set down under new conditions, was in a position to +see that he was no longer young. If he did not, it was due wholly to the +fact that his state was so well balanced that an absolute change for the +worse did not show.</p> + +<p>Not trained to reason or introspect himself, he could not analyse the +change that was taking place in his mind, and hence his body, but he +felt the depression of it. Constant comparison between his old state and +his new showed a balance for the worse, which produced a constant state +of gloom or, at least, depression. Now, it has been shown experimentally +that a constantly subdued frame of mind produces certain poisons in the +blood, called katastates, just as virtuous feelings of pleasure and +delight produce helpful chemicals called anastates. The poisons +generated by remorse inveigh against the system, and eventually produce +marked physical deterioration. To these Hurstwood was subject.</p> + +<p>In the course of time it told upon his temper. His eye no longer +possessed that buoyant, searching shrewdness which had characterised it +in Adams Street. His step was not as sharp and firm. He was given to +thinking, thinking, thinking. The new friends he made were not +celebrities. They were of a cheaper, a slightly more sensual and cruder, +grade. He could not possibly take the pleasure in this company that he +had in that of those fine frequenters of the Chicago resort. He was left +to brood.<a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a></p> + +<p>Slowly, exceedingly slowly, his desire to greet, conciliate, and make at +home these people who visited the Warren Street place passed from him. +More and more slowly the significance of the realm he had left began to +be clear. It did not seem so wonderful to be in it when he was in it. It +had seemed very easy for any one to get up there and have ample raiment +and money to spend, but now that he was out of it, how far off it +became. He began to see as one sees a city with a wall about it. Men +were posted at the gates. You could not get in. Those inside did not +care to come out to see who you were. They were so merry inside there +that all those outside were forgotten, and he was on the outside.</p> + +<p>Each day he could read in the evening papers of the doings within this +walled city. In the notices of passengers for Europe he read the names +of eminent frequenters of his old resort. In the theatrical column +appeared, from time to time, announcements of the latest successes of +men he had known. He knew that they were at their old gayeties. Pullmans +were hauling them to and fro about the land, papers were greeting them +with interesting mentions, the elegant lobbies of hotels and the glow of +polished dining-rooms were keeping them close within the walled city. +Men whom he had known, men whom he had tipped glasses with—rich men, +and he was forgotten! Who was Mr. Wheeler? What was the Warren Street +resort? Bah!</p> + +<p>If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so common a type of +mind—that such feelings require a higher mental development—I would +urge for their consideration the fact that it is the higher mental +development that does away with such thoughts. It is the higher mental +development which induces philosophy and that fortitude which refuses to +dwell upon such<a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a> things—refuses to be made to suffer by their +consideration. The common type of mind is exceedingly keen on all +matters which relate to its physical welfare—exceedingly keen. It is +the unintellectual miser who sweats blood at the loss of a hundred +dollars. It is the Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige of +physical welfare is removed.</p> + +<p>The time came, in the third year, when this thinking began to produce +results in the Warren Street place. The tide of patronage dropped a +little below what it had been at its best since he had been there. This +irritated and worried him.</p> + +<p>There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that the business was not +doing as well this month as it had the month before. This was in lieu of +certain suggestions she had made concerning little things she wanted to +buy. She had not failed to notice that he did not seem to consult her +about buying clothes for himself. For the first time, it struck her as a +ruse, or that he said it so that she would not think of asking for +things. Her reply was mild enough, but her thoughts were rebellious. He +was not looking after her at all. She was depending for her enjoyment +upon the Vances.</p> + +<p>And now the latter announced that they were going away. It was +approaching spring, and they were going North.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, "we think we might as well give up +the flat and store our things. We'll be gone for the summer, and it +would be a useless expense. I think we'll settle a little farther down +town when we come back."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow. She had enjoyed Mrs. Vance's +companionship so much. There was no one else in the house whom she knew. +Again she would be all alone.<a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a></p> + +<p>Hurstwood's gloom over the slight decrease in profits and the departure +of the Vances came together. So Carrie had loneliness and this mood of +her husband to enjoy at the same time. It was a grievous thing. She +became restless and dissatisfied, not exactly, as she thought, with +Hurstwood, but with life. What was it? A very dull round indeed. What +did she have? Nothing but this narrow, little flat. The Vances could +travel, they could do the things worth doing, and here she was. For what +was she made, anyhow? More thought followed, and then tears—tears +seemed justified, and the only relief in the world.</p> + +<p>For another period this state continued, the twain leading a rather +monotonous life, and then there was a slight change for the worse. One +evening, Hurstwood, after thinking about a way to modify Carrie's desire +for clothes and the general strain upon his ability to provide, said:</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'll ever be able to do much with Shaughnessy."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's a slow, greedy 'mick'! He won't agree to anything to improve +the place, and it won't ever pay without it."</p> + +<p>"Can't you make him?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"No; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want to improve, is to +get hold of a place of my own."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, all I have is tied up in there just now. If I had a chance to +save a while I think I could open a place that would give us plenty of +money."</p> + +<p>"Can't we save?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"We might try it," he suggested. "I've been thinking that if we'd take a +smaller flat down town and live economically for a year, I would have +enough, with<a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a> what I have invested, to open a good place. Then we could +arrange to live as you want to."</p> + +<p>"It would suit me all right," said Carrie, who, nevertheless, felt badly +to think it had come to this. Talk of a smaller flat sounded like +poverty.</p> + +<p>"There are lots of nice little flats down around Sixth Avenue, below +Fourteenth Street. We might get one down there."</p> + +<p>"I'll look at them if you say so," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I think I could break away from this fellow inside of a year," said +Hurstwood. "Nothing will ever come of this arrangement as it's going on +now."</p> + +<p>"I'll look around," said Carrie, observing that the proposed change +seemed to be a serious thing with him.</p> + +<p>The upshot of this was that the change was eventually effected; not +without great gloom on the part of Carrie. It really affected her more +seriously than anything that had yet happened. She began to look upon +Hurstwood wholly as a man, and not as a lover or husband. She felt +thoroughly bound to him as a wife, and that her lot was cast with his, +whatever it might be; but she began to see that he was gloomy and +taciturn, not a young, strong, and buoyant man. He looked a little bit +old to her about the eyes and mouth now, and there were other things +which placed him in his true rank, so far as her estimation was +concerned. She began to feel that she had made a mistake. Incidentally, +she also began to recall the fact that he had practically forced her to +flee with him.</p> + +<p>The new flat was located in Thirteenth Street, a half block west of +Sixth Avenue, and contained only four rooms. The new neighbourhood did +not appeal to Carrie as much. There were no trees here, no west view of +the river. The street was solidly built up. There were twelve families +here, respectable enough,<a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a> but nothing like the Vances. Richer people +required more space.</p> + +<p>Being left alone in this little place, Carrie did without a girl. She +made it charming enough, but could not make it delight her. Hurstwood +was not inwardly pleased to think that they should have to modify their +state, but he argued that he could do nothing. He must put the best face +on it, and let it go at that.</p> + +<p>He tried to show Carrie that there was no cause for financial alarm, but +only congratulation over the chance he would have at the end of the year +by taking her rather more frequently to the theatre and by providing a +liberal table. This was for the time only. He was getting in the frame +of mind where he wanted principally to be alone and to be allowed to +think. The disease of brooding was beginning to claim him as a victim. +Only the newspapers and his own thoughts were worth while. The delight +of love had again slipped away. It was a case of live, now, making the +best you can out of a very commonplace station in life.</p> + +<p>The road downward has but few landings and level places. The very state +of his mind, superinduced by his condition, caused the breach to widen +between him and his partner. At last that individual began to wish that +Hurstwood was out of it. It so happened, however, that a real estate +deal on the part of the owner of the land arranged things even more +effectually than ill-will could have schemed.</p> + +<p>"Did you see that?" said Shaughnessy one morning to Hurstwood, pointing +to the real estate column in a copy of the "Herald," which he held.</p> + +<p>"No, what is it?" said Hurstwood, looking down the items of news.</p> + +<p>"The man who owns this ground has sold it."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so?" said Hurstwood.<a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a></p> + +<p>He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August Viele had yesterday +registered the transfer of the lot, 25 × 75 feet, at the corner of +Warren and Hudson streets, to J. F. Slawson for the sum of $57,000.</p> + +<p>"Our lease expires when?" asked Hurstwood, thinking. "Next February, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Shaughnessy.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't say what the new man's going to do with it," remarked +Hurstwood, looking back to the paper.</p> + +<p>"We'll hear, I guess, soon enough," said Shaughnessy.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, it did develop. Mr. Slawson owned the property adjoining, +and was going to put up a modern office building. The present one was to +be torn down. It would take probably a year and a half to complete the +other one.</p> + +<p>All these things developed by degrees, and Hurstwood began to ponder +over what would become of the saloon. One day he spoke about it to his +partner.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it would be worth while to open up somewhere else in the +neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"What would be the use?" said Shaughnessy. "We couldn't get another +corner around here."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't pay anywhere else, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't try it," said the other.</p> + +<p>The approaching change now took on a most serious aspect to Hurstwood. +Dissolution meant the loss of his thousand dollars, and he could not +save another thousand in the time. He understood that Shaughnessy was +merely tired of the arrangement, and would probably lease the new +corner, when completed, alone. He began to worry about the necessity of +a new connection and to see impending serious financial straits unless +something turned up. This left him in no mood<a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a> to enjoy his flat or +Carrie, and consequently the depression invaded that quarter.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he took such time as he could to look about, but +opportunities were not numerous. More, he had not the same impressive +personality which he had when he first came to New York. Bad thoughts +had put a shade into his eyes which did not impress others favourably. +Neither had he thirteen hundred dollars in hand to talk with. About a +month later, finding that he had not made any progress, Shaughnessy +reported definitely that Slawson would not extend the lease.</p> + +<p>"I guess this thing's got to come to an end," he said, affecting an air +of concern.</p> + +<p>"Well, if it has, it has," answered Hurstwood, grimly. He would not give +the other a key to his opinions, whatever they were. He should not have +the satisfaction.</p> + +<p>A day or two later he saw that he must say something to Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "I think I'm going to get the worst of my deal down +there."</p> + +<p>"How is that?" asked Carrie in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Well, the man who owns the ground has sold it, and the new owner won't +re-lease it to us. The business may come to an end."</p> + +<p>"Can't you start somewhere else?"</p> + +<p>"There doesn't seem to be any place. Shaughnessy doesn't want to."</p> + +<p>"Do you lose what you put in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood, whose face was a study.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't that too bad?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"It's a trick," said Hurstwood. "That's all. They'll start another place +there all right."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him, and gathered from his whole<a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a> demeanour what it +meant. It was serious, very serious.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you can get something else?" she ventured, timidly.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood thought a while. It was all up with the bluff about money and +investment. She could see now that he was "broke."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said solemnly; "I can try."<a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /><br /> +<small>THE GRIND OF THE MILLSTONES: A SAMPLE OF CHAFF</small></h2> + +<p>Carrie pondered over this situation as consistently as Hurstwood, once +she got the facts adjusted in her mind. It took several days for her to +fully realise that the approach of the dissolution of her husband's +business meant commonplace struggle and privation. Her mind went back to +her early venture in Chicago, the Hansons and their flat, and her heart +revolted. That was terrible! Everything about poverty was terrible. She +wished she knew a way out. Her recent experiences with the Vances had +wholly unfitted her to view her own state with complacence. The glamour +of the high life of the city had, in the few experiences afforded her by +the former, seized her completely. She had been taught how to dress and +where to go without having ample means to do either. Now, these +things—ever-present realities as they were—filled her eyes and mind. +The more circumscribed became her state, the more entrancing seemed this +other. And now poverty threatened to seize her entirely and to remove +this other world far upward like a heaven to which any Lazarus might +extend, appealingly, his hands.</p> + +<p>So, too, the ideal brought into her life by Ames remained. He had gone, +but here was his word that riches were not everything; that there was a +great deal more in the world than she knew; that the stage was good, and +the literature she read poor. He was a<a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a> strong man and clean—how much +stronger and better than Hurstwood and Drouet she only half formulated +to herself, but the difference was painful. It was something to which +she voluntarily closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>During the last three months of the Warren Street connection, Hurstwood +took parts of days off and hunted, tracking the business advertisements. +It was a more or less depressing business, wholly because of the thought +that he must soon get something or he would begin to live on the few +hundred dollars he was saving, and then he would have nothing to +invest—he would have to hire out as a clerk.</p> + +<p>Everything he discovered in his line advertised as an opportunity, was +either too expensive or too wretched for him. Besides, winter was +coming, the papers were announcing hardships, and there was a general +feeling of hard times in the air, or, at least, he thought so. In his +worry, other people's worries became apparent. No item about a firm +failing, a family starving, or a man dying upon the streets, supposedly +of starvation, but arrested his eye as he scanned the morning papers. +Once the "World" came out with a flaring announcement about "80,000 +people out of employment in New York this winter," which struck as a +knife at his heart.</p> + +<p>"Eighty thousand!" he thought. "What an awful thing that is."</p> + +<p>This was new reasoning for Hurstwood. In the old days the world had +seemed to be getting along well enough. He had been wont to see similar +things in the "Daily News," in Chicago, but they did not hold his +attention. Now, these things were like grey clouds hovering along the +horizon of a clear day. They threatened to cover and obscure his life +with chilly greyness. He tried to shake them off, to forget and brace +up. Sometimes he said to himself, mentally:<a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a></p> + +<p>"What's the use worrying? I'm not out yet. I've got six weeks more. Even +if worst comes to worst, I've got enough to live on for six months."</p> + +<p>Curiously, as he troubled over his future, his thoughts occasionally +reverted to his wife and family. He had avoided such thoughts for the +first three years as much as possible. He hated her, and he could get +along without her. Let her go. He would do well enough. Now, however, +when he was not doing well enough, he began to wonder what she was +doing, how his children were getting along. He could see them living as +nicely as ever, occupying the comfortable house and using his property.</p> + +<p>"By George! it's a shame they should have it all," he vaguely thought to +himself on several occasions. "I didn't do anything."</p> + +<p>As he looked back now and analysed the situation which led up to his +taking the money, he began mildly to justify himself. What had he +done—what in the world—that should bar him out this way and heap such +difficulties upon him? It seemed only yesterday to him since he was +comfortable and well-to-do. But now it was all wrested from him.</p> + +<p>"She didn't deserve what she got out of me, that is sure. I didn't do so +much, if everybody could just know."</p> + +<p>There was no thought that the facts ought to be advertised. It was only +a mental justification he was seeking from himself—something that would +enable him to bear his state as a righteous man.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, five weeks before the Warren Street place closed up, he +left the saloon to visit three or four places he saw advertised in the +"Herald." One was down in Gold Street, and he visited that, but did not +enter. It was such a cheap looking place he felt that<a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a> he could not +abide it. Another was on the Bowery, which he knew contained many showy +resorts. It was near Grand Street, and turned out to be very handsomely +fitted up. He talked around about investments for fully three-quarters +of an hour with the proprietor, who maintained that his health was poor, +and that was the reason he wished a partner.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, just how much money would it take to buy a half interest +here?" said Hurstwood, who saw seven hundred dollars as his limit.</p> + +<p>"Three thousand," said the man.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood's jaw fell.</p> + +<p>"Cash?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Cash."</p> + +<p>He tried to put on an air of deliberation, as one who might really buy; +but his eyes showed gloom. He wound up by saying he would think it over, +and came away. The man he had been talking to sensed his condition in a +vague way.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he wants to buy," he said to himself. "He doesn't talk +right."</p> + +<p>The afternoon was as grey as lead and cold. It was blowing up a +disagreeable winter wind. He visited a place far up on the east side, +near Sixty-ninth Street, and it was five o'clock, and growing dim, when +he reached there. A portly German kept this place.</p> + +<p>"How about this ad. of yours?" asked Hurstwood, who rather objected to +the looks of the place.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dat iss all over," said the German. "I vill not sell now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; dere is nothing to dat. It iss all over."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Hurstwood, turning around.</p> + +<p>The German paid no more attention to him, and it made him angry.<a name="page_375" id="page_375"></a></p> + +<p>"The crazy ass!" he said to himself. "What does he want to advertise +for?"</p> + +<p>Wholly depressed, he started for Thirteenth Street. The flat had only a +light in the kitchen, where Carrie was working. He struck a match and, +lighting the gas, sat down in the dining-room without even greeting her. +She came to the door and looked in.</p> + +<p>"It's you, is it?" she said, and went back.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, without even looking up from the evening paper he had +bought.</p> + +<p>Carrie saw things were wrong with him. He was not so handsome when +gloomy. The lines at the sides of the eyes were deepened. Naturally dark +of skin, gloom made him look slightly sinister. He was quite a +disagreeable figure.</p> + +<p>Carrie set the table and brought in the meal.</p> + +<p>"Dinner's ready," she said, passing him for something.</p> + +<p>He did not answer, reading on.</p> + +<p>She came in and sat down at her place, feeling exceedingly wretched.</p> + +<p>"Won't you eat now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He folded his paper and drew near, silence holding for a time, except +for the "Pass me's."</p> + +<p>"It's been gloomy to-day, hasn't it?" ventured Carrie, after a time.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>He only picked at his food.</p> + +<p>"Are you still sure to close up?" said Carrie, venturing to take up the +subject which they had discussed often enough.</p> + +<p>"Of course we are," he said, with the slightest modification of +sharpness.</p> + +<p>This retort angered Carrie. She had had a dreary day of it herself.<a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a></p> + +<p>"You needn't talk like that," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he exclaimed, pushing back from the table, as if to say more, but +letting it go at that. Then he picked up his paper. Carrie left her +seat, containing herself with difficulty. He saw she was hurt.</p> + +<p>"Don't go 'way," he said, as she started back into the kitchen. "Eat +your dinner."</p> + +<p>She passed, not answering.</p> + +<p>He looked at the paper a few moments, and then rose up and put on his +coat.</p> + +<p>"I'm going down town, Carrie," he said, coming out. "I'm out of sorts +to-night."</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry," he said. "It will be all right to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, but she paid no attention to him, working at her +dishes.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" he said finally, and went out.</p> + +<p>This was the first strong result of the situation between them, but with +the nearing of the last day of the business the gloom became almost a +permanent thing. Hurstwood could not conceal his feelings about the +matter. Carrie could not help wondering where she was drifting. It got +so that they talked even less than usual, and yet it was not Hurstwood +who felt any objection to Carrie. It was Carrie who shied away from him. +This he noticed. It aroused an objection to her becoming indifferent to +him. He made the possibility of friendly intercourse almost a giant +task, and then noticed with discontent that Carrie added to it by her +manner and made it more impossible.</p> + +<p>At last the final day came. When it actually arrived, Hurstwood, who had +got his mind into such a state where a thunder-clap and raging storm +would have seemed highly appropriate, was rather relieved to<a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a> find that +it was a plain, ordinary day. The sun shone, the temperature was +pleasant. He felt, as he came to the breakfast table, that it wasn't so +terrible, after all.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said to Carrie, "to-day's my last day on earth."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled in answer to his humour.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood glanced over his paper rather gayly. He seemed to have lost a +load.</p> + +<p>"I'll go down for a little while," he said after breakfast, "and then +I'll look around. To-morrow I'll spend the whole day looking about. I +think I can get something, now this thing's off my hands."</p> + +<p>He went out smiling and visited the place. Shaughnessy was there. They +had made all arrangements to share according to their interests. When, +however, he had been there several hours, gone out three more, and +returned, his elation had departed. As much as he had objected to the +place, now that it was no longer to exist, he felt sorry. He wished that +things were different.</p> + +<p>Shaughnessy was coolly business-like.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said at five o'clock, "we might as well count the change and +divide."</p> + +<p>They did so. The fixtures had already been sold and the sum divided.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said Hurstwood at the final moment, in a last effort to be +genial.</p> + +<p>"So long," said Shaughnessy, scarcely deigning a notice.</p> + +<p>Thus the Warren Street arrangement was permanently concluded.</p> + +<p>Carrie had prepared a good dinner at the flat, but after his ride up, +Hurstwood was in a solemn and reflective mood.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Carrie, inquisitively.</p> + +<p>"I'm out of that," he answered, taking off his coat.<a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a></p> + +<p>As she looked at him, she wondered what his financial state was now. +They ate and talked a little.</p> + +<p>"Will you have enough to buy in anywhere else?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I'll have to get something else and save up."</p> + +<p>"It would be nice if you could get some place," said Carrie, prompted by +anxiety and hope.</p> + +<p>"I guess I will," he said reflectively.</p> + +<p>For some days thereafter he put on his overcoat regularly in the morning +and sallied forth. On these ventures he first consoled himself with the +thought that with the seven hundred dollars he had he could still make +some advantageous arrangement. He thought about going to some brewery, +which, as he knew, frequently controlled saloons which they leased, and +get them to help him. Then he remembered that he would have to pay out +several hundred any way for fixtures and that he would have nothing left +for his monthly expenses. It was costing him nearly eighty dollars a +month to live.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, in his sanest moments, "I can't do it. I'll get something +else and save up."</p> + +<p>This getting-something proposition complicated itself the moment he +began to think of what it was he wanted to do. Manage a place? Where +should he get such a position? The papers contained no requests for +managers. Such positions, he knew well enough, were either secured by +long years of service or were bought with a half or third interest. Into +a place important enough to need such a manager he had not money enough +to buy.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he started out. His clothes were very good and his +appearance still excellent, but it involved the trouble of deluding. +People, looking at him, imagined<a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a> instantly that a man of his age, stout +and well dressed, must be well off. He appeared a comfortable owner of +something, a man from whom the common run of mortals could well expect +gratuities. Being now forty-three years of age, and comfortably built, +walking was not easy. He had not been used to exercise for many years. +His legs tired, his shoulders ached, and his feet pained him at the +close of the day, even when he took street cars in almost every +direction. The mere getting up and down, if long continued, produced +this result.</p> + +<p>The fact that people took him to be better off than he was, he well +understood. It was so painfully clear to him that it retarded his +search. Not that he wished to be less well-appearing, but that he was +ashamed to belie his appearance by incongruous appeals. So he hesitated, +wondering what to do.</p> + +<p>He thought of the hotels, but instantly he remembered that he had had no +experience as a clerk, and, what was more important, no acquaintances or +friends in that line to whom he could go. He did know some hotel owners +in several cities, including New York, but they knew of his dealings +with Fitzgerald and Moy. He could not apply to them. He thought of other +lines suggested by large buildings or businesses which he knew +of—wholesale groceries, hardware, insurance concerns, and the like—but +he had had no experience.</p> + +<p>How to go about getting anything was a bitter thought. Would he have to +go personally and ask; wait outside an office door, and, then, +distinguished and affluent looking, announce that he was looking for +something to do? He strained painfully at the thought. No, he could not +do that.</p> + +<p>He really strolled about, thinking, and then, the weather being cold, +stepped into a hotel. He knew hotels<a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a> well enough to know that any +decent looking individual was welcome to a chair in the lobby. This was +in the Broadway Central, which was then one of the most important hotels +in the city. Taking a chair here was a painful thing to him. To think he +should come to this! He had heard loungers about hotels called +chair-warmers. He had called them that himself in his day. But here he +was, despite the possibility of meeting some one who knew him, shielding +himself from cold and the weariness of the streets in a hotel lobby.</p> + +<p>"I can't do this way," he said to himself. "There's no use of my +starting out mornings without first thinking up some place to go. I'll +think of some places and then look them up."</p> + +<p>It occurred to him that the positions of bartenders were sometimes open, +but he put this out of his mind. Bartender—he, the ex-manager!</p> + +<p>It grew awfully dull sitting in the hotel lobby, and so at four he went +home. He tried to put on a business air as he went in, but it was a +feeble imitation. The rocking-chair in the dining-room was comfortable. +He sank into it gladly, with several papers he had bought, and began to +read.</p> + +<p>As she was going through the room to begin preparing dinner, Carrie +said:</p> + +<p>"The man was here for the rent to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, was he?" said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>The least wrinkle crept into his brow as he remembered that this was +February 2d, the time the man always called. He fished down in his +pocket for his purse, getting the first taste of paying out when nothing +is coming in. He looked at the fat, green roll as a sick man looks at +the one possible saving cure. Then he counted off twenty-eight dollars.<a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a></p> + +<p>"Here you are," he said to Carrie, when she came through again.</p> + +<p>He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the rest of it—the relief +from walking and thinking! What Lethean waters were these floods of +telegraphed intelligence! He forgot his troubles, in part. Here was a +young, handsome woman, if you might believe the newspaper drawing, suing +a rich, fat, candy-making husband in Brooklyn for divorce. Here was +another item detailing the wrecking of a vessel in ice and snow off +Prince's Bay on Staten Island. A long, bright column told of the doings +in the theatrical world—the plays produced, the actors appearing, the +managers making announcements. Fannie Davenport was just opening at the +Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing "King Lear." He read of the early +departure for the season of a party composed of the Vanderbilts and +their friends for Florida. An interesting shooting affray was on in the +mountains of Kentucky. So he read, read, read, rocking in the warm room +near the radiator and waiting for dinner to be served.<a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /><br /> +<small>THE PASSING OF EFFORT: THE VISAGE OF CARE</small></h2> + +<p>The next morning he looked over the papers and waded through a long list +of advertisements, making a few notes. Then he turned to the +male-help-wanted column, but with disagreeable feelings. The day was +before him—a long day in which to discover something—and this was how +he must begin to discover. He scanned the long column, which mostly +concerned bakers, bushelmen, cooks, compositors, drivers, and the like, +finding two things only which arrested his eye. One was a cashier wanted +in a wholesale furniture house, and the other a salesman for a whiskey +house. He had never thought of the latter. At once he decided to look +that up.</p> + +<p>The firm in question was Alsbery & Co., whiskey brokers.</p> + +<p>He was admitted almost at once to the manager on his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, sir," said the latter, thinking at first that he was +encountering one of his out-of-town customers.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said Hurstwood. "You advertised, I believe, for a +salesman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the man, showing plainly the enlightenment which had come to +him. "Yes. Yes, I did."</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd drop in," said Hurstwood, with dignity. "I've had some +experience in that line myself."<a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, have you?" said the man. "What experience have you had?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I've managed several liquor houses in my time. Recently I owned a +third-interest in a saloon at Warren and Hudson streets."</p> + +<p>"I see," said the man.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood ceased, waiting for some suggestion.</p> + +<p>"We did want a salesman," said the man. "I don't know as it's anything +you'd care to take hold of, though."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Hurstwood. "Well, I'm in no position to choose, just at +present. If it were open, I should be glad to get it."</p> + +<p>The man did not take kindly at all to his "No position to choose." He +wanted some one who wasn't thinking of a choice or something better. +Especially not an old man. He wanted some one young, active, and glad to +work actively for a moderate sum. Hurstwood did not please him at all. +He had more of an air than his employers.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said in answer, "we'd be glad to consider your application. +We shan't decide for a few days yet. Suppose you send us your +references."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>He nodded good-morning and came away. At the corner he looked at the +furniture company's address, and saw that it was in West Twenty-third +Street. Accordingly, he went up there. The place was not large enough, +however. It looked moderate, the men in it idle and small salaried. He +walked by, glancing in, and then decided not to go in there.</p> + +<p>"They want a girl, probably, at ten a week," he said.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock he thought of eating, and went to a restaurant in Madison +Square. There he pondered over places which he might look up. He was +tired. It<a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a> was blowing up grey again. Across the way, through Madison +Square Park, stood the great hotels, looking down upon a busy scene. He +decided to go over to the lobby of one and sit a while. It was warm in +there and bright. He had seen no one he knew at the Broadway Central. In +all likelihood he would encounter no one here. Finding a seat on one of +the red plush divans close to the great windows which look out on +Broadway's busy rout, he sat musing. His state did not seem so bad in +here. Sitting still and looking out, he could take some slight +consolation in the few hundred dollars he had in his purse. He could +forget, in a measure, the weariness of the street and his tiresome +searches. Still, it was only escape from a severe to a less severe +state. He was still gloomy and disheartened. There, minutes seemed to go +very slowly. An hour was a long, long time in passing. It was filled for +him with observations and mental comments concerning the actual guests +of the hotel, who passed in and out, and those more prosperous +pedestrians whose good fortune showed in their clothes and spirits as +they passed along Broadway, outside. It was nearly the first time since +he had arrived in the city that his leisure afforded him ample +opportunity to contemplate this spectacle. Now, being, perforce, idle +himself, he wondered at the activity of others. How gay were the youths +he saw, how pretty the women. Such fine clothes they all wore. They were +so intent upon getting somewhere. He saw coquettish glances cast by +magnificent girls. Ah, the money it required to train with such—how +well he knew! How long it had been since he had had the opportunity to +do so!</p> + +<p>The clock outside registered four. It was a little early, but he thought +he would go back to the flat.</p> + +<p>This going back to the flat was coupled with the<a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a> thought that Carrie +would think he was sitting around too much if he came home early. He +hoped he wouldn't have to, but the day hung heavily on his hands. Over +there he was on his own ground. He could sit in his rocking-chair and +read. This busy, distracting, suggestive scene was shut out. He could +read his papers. Accordingly, he went home. Carrie was reading, quite +alone. It was rather dark in the flat, shut in as it was.</p> + +<p>"You'll hurt your eyes," he said when he saw her.</p> + +<p>After taking off his coat, he felt it incumbent upon him to make some +little report of his day.</p> + +<p>"I've been talking with a wholesale liquor company," he said. "I may go +out on the road."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't that be nice!" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be such a bad thing," he answered.</p> + +<p>Always from the man at the corner now he bought two papers—the "Evening +World" and "Evening Sun." So now he merely picked his papers up, as he +came by, without stopping.</p> + +<p>He drew up his chair near the radiator and lighted the gas. Then it was +as the evening before. His difficulties vanished in the items he so well +loved to read.</p> + +<p>The next day was even worse than the one before, because now he could +not think of where to go. Nothing he saw in the papers he studied—till +ten o'clock—appealed to him. He felt that he ought to go out, and yet +he sickened at the thought. Where to, where to?</p> + +<p>"You mustn't forget to leave me my money for this week," said Carrie, +quietly.</p> + +<p>They had an arrangement by which he placed twelve dollars a week in her +hands, out of which to pay current expenses. He heaved a little sigh as +she said this, and drew out his purse. Again he felt the dread of the +thing. Here he was taking off, taking off, and nothing coming in.<a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a></p> + +<p>"Lord!" he said, in his own thoughts, "this can't go on."</p> + +<p>To Carrie he said nothing whatsoever. She could feel that her request +disturbed him. To pay her would soon become a distressing thing.</p> + +<p>"Yet, what have I got to do with it?" she thought. "Oh, why should I be +made to worry?"</p> + +<p>Hurstwood went out and made for Broadway. He wanted to think up some +place. Before long, though, he reached the Grand Hotel at Thirty-first +Street. He knew of its comfortable lobby. He was cold after his twenty +blocks' walk.</p> + +<p>"I'll go in their barber shop and get a shave," he thought.</p> + +<p>Thus he justified himself in sitting down in here after his tonsorial +treatment.</p> + +<p>Again, time hanging heavily on his hands, he went home early, and this +continued for several days, each day the need to hunt paining him, and +each day disgust, depression, shamefacedness driving him into lobby +idleness.</p> + +<p>At last three days came in which a storm prevailed, and he did not go +out at all. The snow began to fall late one afternoon. It was a regular +flurry of large, soft, white flakes. In the morning it was still coming +down with a high wind, and the papers announced a blizzard. From out the +front windows one could see a deep, soft bedding.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll not try to go out to-day," he said to Carrie at breakfast. +"It's going to be awful bad, so the papers say."</p> + +<p>"The man hasn't brought my coal, either," said Carrie, who ordered by +the bushel.</p> + +<p>"I'll go over and see about it," said Hurstwood. This was the first time +he had ever suggested doing an<a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a> errand, but, somehow, the wish to sit +about the house prompted it as a sort of compensation for the privilege.</p> + +<p>All day and all night it snowed, and the city began to suffer from a +general blockade of traffic. Great attention was given to the details of +the storm by the newspapers, which played up the distress of the poor in +large type.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood sat and read by his radiator in the corner. He did not try to +think about his need of work. This storm being so terrific, and tying up +all things, robbed him of the need. He made himself wholly comfortable +and toasted his feet.</p> + +<p>Carrie observed his ease with some misgiving. For all the fury of the +storm she doubted his comfort. He took his situation too +philosophically.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, however, read on and on. He did not pay much attention to +Carrie. She fulfilled her household duties and said little to disturb +him.</p> + +<p>The next day it was still snowing, and the next, bitter cold. Hurstwood +took the alarm of the paper and sat still. Now he volunteered to do a +few other little things. One was to go to the butcher, another to the +grocery. He really thought nothing of these little services in +connection with their true significance. He felt as if he were not +wholly useless—indeed, in such a stress of weather, quite worth while +about the house.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day, however, it cleared, and he read that the storm was +over. Now, however, he idled, thinking how sloppy the streets would be.</p> + +<p>It was noon before he finally abandoned his papers and got under way. +Owing to the slightly warmer temperature the streets were bad. He went +across Fourteenth Street on the car and got a transfer south on +Broadway. One little advertisement he had, relating<a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a> to a saloon down in +Pearl Street. When he reached the Broadway Central, however, he changed +his mind.</p> + +<p>"What's the use?" he thought, looking out upon the slop and snow. "I +couldn't buy into it. It's a thousand to one nothing comes of it. I +guess I'll get off," and off he got. In the lobby he took a seat and +waited again, wondering what he could do.</p> + +<p>While he was idly pondering, satisfied to be inside, a well-dressed man +passed up the lobby, stopped, looked sharply, as if not sure of his +memory, and then approached. Hurstwood recognised Cargill, the owner of +the large stables in Chicago of the same name, whom he had last seen at +Avery Hall, the night Carrie appeared there. The remembrance of how this +individual brought up his wife to shake hands on that occasion was also +on the instant clear.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was greatly abashed. His eyes expressed the difficulty he +felt.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Hurstwood!" said Cargill, remembering now, and sorry that he +had not recognised him quickly enough in the beginning to have avoided +this meeting.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood. "How are you?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Cargill, troubled for something to talk about. +"Stopping here?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hurstwood, "just keeping an appointment."</p> + +<p>"I knew you had left Chicago. I was wondering what had become of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm here now," answered Hurstwood, anxious to get away.</p> + +<p>"Doing well, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent."</p> + +<p>"Glad to hear it."<a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a></p> + +<p>They looked at one another, rather embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have an engagement with a friend upstairs. I'll leave you. So +long."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"Damn it all," he murmured, turning toward the door. "I knew that would +happen."</p> + +<p>He walked several blocks up the street. His watch only registered 1.30. +He tried to think of some place to go or something to do. The day was so +bad he wanted only to be inside. Finally his feet began to feel wet and +cold, and he boarded a car. This took him to Fifty-ninth Street, which +was as good as anywhere else. Landed here, he turned to walk back along +Seventh Avenue, but the slush was too much. The misery of lounging about +with nowhere to go became intolerable. He felt as if he were catching +cold.</p> + +<p>Stopping at a corner, he waited for a car south bound. This was no day +to be out; he would go home.</p> + +<p>Carrie was surprised to see him at a quarter of three.</p> + +<p>"It's a miserable day out," was all he said. Then he took off his coat +and changed his shoes.</p> + +<p>That night he felt a cold coming on and took quinine. He was feverish +until morning, and sat about the next day while Carrie waited on him. He +was a helpless creature in sickness, not very handsome in a +dull-coloured bath gown and his hair uncombed. He looked haggard about +the eyes and quite old. Carrie noticed this, and it did not appeal to +her. She wanted to be good-natured and sympathetic, but something about +the man held her aloof.</p> + +<p>Toward evening he looked so badly in the weak light that she suggested +he go to bed.</p> + +<p>"You'd better sleep alone," she said, "you'll feel better. I'll open +your bed for you now."</p> + +<p>"All right," he said.<a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a></p> + +<p>As she did all these things, she was in a most despondent state.</p> + +<p>"What a life! What a life!" was her one thought.</p> + +<p>Once during the day, when he sat near the radiator, hunched up and +reading, she passed through, and seeing him, wrinkled her brows. In the +front room, where it was not so warm, she sat by the window and cried. +This was the life cut out for her, was it? To live cooped up in a small +flat with some one who was out of work, idle, and indifferent to her. +She was merely a servant to him now, nothing more.</p> + +<p>This crying made her eyes red, and when, in preparing his bed, she +lighted the gas, and, having prepared it, called him in, he noticed the +fact.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you?" he asked, looking into her face. His voice +was hoarse and his unkempt head only added to its grewsome quality.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Carrie, weakly.</p> + +<p>"You've been crying," he said.</p> + +<p>"I haven't, either," she answered.</p> + +<p>It was not for love of him, that he knew.</p> + +<p>"You needn't cry," he said, getting into bed. "Things will come out all +right."</p> + +<p>In a day or two he was up again, but rough weather holding, he stayed +in. The Italian newsdealer now delivered the morning papers, and these +he read assiduously. A few times after that he ventured out, but meeting +another of his old-time friends, he began to feel uneasy sitting about +hotel corridors.</p> + +<p>Every day he came home early, and at last made no pretence of going +anywhere. Winter was no time to look for anything.</p> + +<p>Naturally, being about the house, he noticed the way Carrie did things. +She was far from perfect in household methods and economy, and her +little deviations on<a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a> this score first caught his eye. Not, however, +before her regular demand for her allowance became a grievous thing. +Sitting around as he did, the weeks seemed to pass very quickly. Every +Tuesday Carrie asked for her money.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we live as cheaply as we might?" he asked one Tuesday +morning.</p> + +<p>"I do the best I can," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Nothing was added to this at the moment, but the next day he said:</p> + +<p>"Do you ever go to the Gansevoort Market over here?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know there was such a market," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"They say you can get things lots cheaper there."</p> + +<p>Carrie was very indifferent to the suggestion. These were things which +she did not like at all.</p> + +<p>"How much do you pay for a pound of meat?" he asked one day.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there are different prices," said Carrie. "Sirloin steak is +twenty-two cents."</p> + +<p>"That's steep, isn't it?" he answered.</p> + +<p>So he asked about other things, until finally, with the passing days, it +seemed to become a mania with him. He learned the prices and remembered +them.</p> + +<p>His errand-running capacity also improved. It began in a small way, of +course. Carrie, going to get her hat one morning, was stopped by him.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Carrie?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Over to the baker's," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'd just as leave go for you," he said.</p> + +<p>She acquiesced, and he went. Each afternoon he would go to the corner +for the papers.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything you want?" he would say.</p> + +<p>By degrees she began to use him. Doing this, however, she lost the +weekly payment of twelve dollars.<a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a></p> + +<p>"You want to pay me to-day," she said one Tuesday, about this time.</p> + +<p>"How much?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She understood well enough what it meant.</p> + +<p>"Well, about five dollars," she answered. "I owe the coal man."</p> + +<p>The same day he said:</p> + +<p>"I think this Italian up here on the corner sells coal at twenty-five +cents a bushel. I'll trade with him."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard this with indifference.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said.</p> + +<p>Then it came to be:</p> + +<p>"George, I must have some coal to-day," or, "You must get some meat of +some kind for dinner."</p> + +<p>He would find out what she needed and order.</p> + +<p>Accompanying this plan came skimpiness.</p> + +<p>"I only got a half-pound of steak," he said, coming in one afternoon +with his papers. "We never seem to eat very much."</p> + +<p>These miserable details ate the heart out of Carrie. They blackened her +days and grieved her soul. Oh, how this man had changed! All day and all +day, here he sat, reading his papers. The world seemed to have no +attraction. Once in a while he would go out, in fine weather, it might +be four or five hours, between eleven and four. She could do nothing but +view him with gnawing contempt.</p> + +<p>It was apathy with Hurstwood, resulting from his inability to see his +way out. Each month drew from his small store. Now, he had only five +hundred dollars left, and this he hugged, half feeling as if he could +stave off absolute necessity for an indefinite period. Sitting around +the house, he decided to wear some old clothes he had. This came first +with the bad days. Only once he apologised in the very beginning:<a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a></p> + +<p>"It's so bad to-day, I'll just wear these around."</p> + +<p>Eventually these became the permanent thing.</p> + +<p>Also, he had been wont to pay fifteen cents for a shave, and a tip of +ten cents. In his first distress, he cut down the tip to five, then to +nothing. Later, he tried a ten-cent barber shop, and, finding that the +shave was satisfactory, patronised regularly. Later still, he put off +shaving to every other day, then to every third, and so on, until once a +week became the rule. On Saturday he was a sight to see.</p> + +<p>Of course, as his own self-respect vanished, it perished for him in +Carrie. She could not understand what had gotten into the man. He had +some money, he had a decent suit remaining, he was not bad looking when +dressed up. She did not forget her own difficult struggle in Chicago, +but she did not forget either that she had never ceased trying. He never +tried. He did not even consult the ads. in the papers any more.</p> + +<p>Finally, a distinct impression escaped from her.</p> + +<p>"What makes you put so much butter on the steak?" he asked her one +evening, standing around in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"To make it good, of course," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Butter is awful dear these days," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't mind it if you were working," she answered.</p> + +<p>He shut up after this, and went in to his paper, but the retort rankled +in his mind. It was the first cutting remark that had come from her.</p> + +<p>That same evening, Carrie, after reading, went off to the front room to +bed. This was unusual. When Hurstwood decided to go, he retired, as +usual, without a light. It was then that he discovered Carrie's absence.</p> + +<p>"That's funny," he said; "maybe she's sitting up."<a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a></p> + +<p>He gave the matter no more thought, but slept. In the morning she was +not beside him. Strange to say, this passed without comment.</p> + +<p>Night approaching, and a slightly more conversational feeling +prevailing, Carrie said:</p> + +<p>"I think I'll sleep alone to-night. I have a headache."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>The third night she went to her front bed without apologies.</p> + +<p>This was a grim blow to Hurstwood, but he never mentioned it.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said to himself, with an irrepressible frown, "let her +sleep alone."<a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /><br /> +<small>A GRIM RETROGRESSION: THE PHANTOM OF CHANCE</small></h2> + +<p>The Vances, who had been back in the city ever since Christmas, had not +forgotten Carrie; but they, or rather Mrs. Vance, had never called on +her, for the very simple reason that Carrie had never sent her address. +True to her nature, she corresponded with Mrs. Vance as long as she +still lived in Seventy-eighth Street, but when she was compelled to move +into Thirteenth, her fear that the latter would take it as an indication +of reduced circumstances caused her to study some way of avoiding the +necessity of giving her address. Not finding any convenient method, she +sorrowfully resigned the privilege of writing to her friend entirely. +The latter wondered at this strange silence, thought Carrie must have +left the city, and in the end gave her up as lost. So she was thoroughly +surprised to encounter her in Fourteenth Street, where she had gone +shopping. Carrie was there for the same purpose.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mrs. Wheeler," said Mrs. Vance, looking Carrie over in a glance, +"where have you been? Why haven't you been to see me? I've been +wondering all this time what had become of you. Really, I——"</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to see you," said Carrie, pleased and yet nonplussed. Of +all times, this was the worst to encounter Mrs. Vance. "Why, I'm living +down town here. I've been intending to come and see you. Where are you +living now?"<a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a></p> + +<p>"In Fifty-eighth Street," said Mrs. Vance, "just off Seventh +Avenue—218. Why don't you come and see me?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said Carrie. "Really, I've been wanting to come. I know I +ought to. It's a shame. But you know——"</p> + +<p>"What's your number?" said Mrs. Vance.</p> + +<p>"Thirteenth Street," said Carrie, reluctantly. "112 West."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Vance, "that's right near here, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie. "You must come down and see me some time."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're a fine one," said Mrs. Vance, laughing, the while noting +that Carrie's appearance had modified somewhat. "The address, too," she +added to herself. "They must be hard up."</p> + +<p>Still she liked Carrie well enough to take her in tow.</p> + +<p>"Come with me in here a minute," she exclaimed, turning into a store.</p> + +<p>When Carrie returned home, there was Hurstwood, reading as usual. He +seemed to take his condition with the utmost nonchalance. His beard was +at least four days old.</p> + +<p>"Oh," thought Carrie, "if she were to come here and see him?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head in absolute misery. It looked as if her situation was +becoming unbearable.</p> + +<p>Driven to desperation, she asked at dinner:</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear any more from that wholesale house?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "They don't want an inexperienced man."</p> + +<p>Carrie dropped the subject, feeling unable to say more.<a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a></p> + +<p>"I met Mrs. Vance this afternoon," she said, after a time.</p> + +<p>"Did, eh?" he answered.</p> + +<p>"They're back in New York now," Carrie went on. "She did look so nice."</p> + +<p>"Well, she can afford it as long as he puts up for it," returned +Hurstwood. "He's got a soft job."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was looking into the paper. He could not see the look of +infinite weariness and discontent Carrie gave him.</p> + +<p>"She said she thought she'd call here some day."</p> + +<p>"She's been long getting round to it, hasn't she?" said Hurstwood, with +a kind of sarcasm.</p> + +<p>The woman didn't appeal to him from her spending side.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Carrie, angered by the man's attitude. "Perhaps +I didn't want her to come."</p> + +<p>"She's too gay," said Hurstwood, significantly. "No one can keep up with +her pace unless they've got a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vance doesn't seem to find it very hard."</p> + +<p>"He may not now," answered Hurstwood, doggedly, well understanding the +inference; "but his life isn't done yet. You can't tell what'll happen. +He may get down like anybody else."</p> + +<p>There was something quite knavish in the man's attitude. His eye seemed +to be cocked with a twinkle upon the fortunate, expecting their defeat. +His own state seemed a thing apart—not considered.</p> + +<p>This thing was the remains of his old-time cocksureness and +independence. Sitting in his flat, and reading of the doings of other +people, sometimes this independent, undefeated mood came upon him. +Forgetting the weariness of the streets and the degradation of<a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a> search, +he would sometimes prick up his ears. It was as if he said:</p> + +<p>"I can do something. I'm not down yet. There's a lot of things coming to +me if I want to go after them."</p> + +<p>It was in this mood that he would occasionally dress up, go for a shave, +and, putting on his gloves, sally forth quite actively. Not with any +definite aim. It was more a barometric condition. He felt just right for +being outside and doing something.</p> + +<p>On such occasions, his money went also. He knew of several poker rooms +down town. A few acquaintances he had in down-town resorts and about the +City Hall. It was a change to see them and exchange a few friendly +commonplaces.</p> + +<p>He had once been accustomed to hold a pretty fair hand at poker. Many a +friendly game had netted him a hundred dollars or more at the time when +that sum was merely sauce to the dish of the game—not the all in all. +Now, he thought of playing.</p> + +<p>"I might win a couple of hundred. I'm not out of practice."</p> + +<p>It is but fair to say that this thought had occurred to him several +times before he acted upon it.</p> + +<p>The poker room which he first invaded was over a saloon in West Street, +near one of the ferries. He had been there before. Several games were +going. These he watched for a time and noticed that the pots were quite +large for the ante involved.</p> + +<p>"Deal me a hand," he said at the beginning of a new shuffle. He pulled +up a chair and studied his cards. Those playing made that quiet study of +him which is so unapparent, and yet invariably so searching.</p> + +<p>Poor fortune was with him at first. He received a mixed collection +without progression or pairs. The pot was opened.<a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a></p> + +<p>"I pass," he said.</p> + +<p>On the strength of this, he was content to lose his ante. The deals did +fairly by him in the long run, causing him to come away with a few +dollars to the good.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon he was back again, seeking amusement and profit. This +time he followed up three of a kind to his doom. There was a better hand +across the table, held by a pugnacious Irish youth, who was a political +hanger-on of the Tammany district in which they were located. Hurstwood +was surprised at the persistence of this individual, whose bets came +with a <i>sang-froid</i> which, if a bluff, was excellent art. Hurstwood +began to doubt, but kept, or thought to keep, at least, the cool +demeanour with which, in olden times, he deceived those psychic students +of the gaming table, who seem to read thoughts and moods, rather than +exterior evidences, however subtle. He could not down the cowardly +thought that this man had something better and would stay to the end, +drawing his last dollar into the pot, should he choose to go so far. +Still, he hoped to win much—his hand was excellent. Why not raise it +five more?</p> + +<p>"I raise you three," said the youth.</p> + +<p>"Make it five," said Hurstwood, pushing out his chips.</p> + +<p>"Come again," said the youth, pushing out a small pile of reds.</p> + +<p>"Let me have some more chips," said Hurstwood to the keeper in charge, +taking out a bill.</p> + +<p>A cynical grin lit up the face of his youthful opponent. When the chips +were laid out, Hurstwood met the raise.</p> + +<p>"Five again," said the youth.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood's brow was wet. He was deep in now—very deep for him. Sixty +dollars of his good money was up. He was ordinarily no coward, but the +thought<a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a> of losing so much weakened him. Finally he gave way. He would +not trust to this fine hand any longer.</p> + +<p>"I call," he said.</p> + +<p>"A full house!" said the youth, spreading out his cards.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood's hand dropped.</p> + +<p>"I thought I had you," he said, weakly.</p> + +<p>The youth raked in his chips, and Hurstwood came away, not without first +stopping to count his remaining cash on the stair.</p> + +<p>"Three hundred and forty dollars," he said.</p> + +<p>With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had already gone.</p> + +<p>Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more.</p> + +<p>Remembering Mrs. Vance's promise to call, Carrie made one other mild +protest. It was concerning Hurstwood's appearance. This very day, coming +home, he changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in.</p> + +<p>"What makes you always put on those old clothes?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"What's the use wearing my good ones around here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think you'd feel better." Then she added: "Some one +might call."</p> + +<p>"Who?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Vance," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"She needn't see me," he answered, sullenly.</p> + +<p>This lack of pride and interest made Carrie almost hate him.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she thought, "there he sits. 'She needn't see me.' I should think +he would be ashamed of himself."</p> + +<p>The real bitterness of this thing was added when Mrs. Vance did call. It +was on one of her shopping rounds. Making her way up the commonplace +hall, she knocked at Carrie's door. To her subsequent and<a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a> agonising +distress, Carrie was out. Hurstwood opened the door, half-thinking that +the knock was Carrie's. For once, he was taken honestly aback. The lost +voice of youth and pride spoke in him.</p> + +<p>"Why," he said, actually stammering, "how do you do?"</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" said Mrs. Vance, who could scarcely believe her eyes. +His great confusion she instantly perceived. He did not know whether to +invite her in or not.</p> + +<p>"Is your wife at home?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "Carrie's out; but won't you step in? She'll be back +shortly."</p> + +<p>"No-o," said Mrs. Vance, realising the change of it all. "I'm really +very much in a hurry. I thought I'd just run up and look in, but I +couldn't stay. Just tell your wife she must come and see me."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Hurstwood, standing back, and feeling intense relief at +her going. He was so ashamed that he folded his hands weakly, as he sat +in the chair afterwards, and thought.</p> + +<p>Carrie, coming in from another direction, thought she saw Mrs. Vance +going away. She strained her eyes, but could not make sure.</p> + +<p>"Was anybody here just now?" she asked of Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said guiltily; "Mrs. Vance."</p> + +<p>"Did she see you?" she asked, expressing her full despair.</p> + +<p>This cut Hurstwood like a whip, and made him sullen.</p> + +<p>"If she had eyes, she did. I opened the door."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Carrie, closing one hand tightly out of sheer nervousness. +"What did she have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he answered. "She couldn't stay."<a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a></p> + +<p>"And you looking like that!" said Carrie, throwing aside a long reserve.</p> + +<p>"What of it?" he said, angering. "I didn't know she was coming, did I?"</p> + +<p>"You knew she might," said Carrie. "I told you she said she was coming. +I've asked you a dozen times to wear your other clothes. Oh, I think +this is just terrible."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let up," he answered. "What difference does it make? You couldn't +associate with her, anyway. They've got too much money."</p> + +<p>"Who said I wanted to?" said Carrie, fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Well, you act like it, rowing around over my looks. You'd think I'd +committed——"</p> + +<p>Carrie interrupted:</p> + +<p>"It's true," she said. "I couldn't if I wanted to, but whose fault is +it? You're very free to sit and talk about who I could associate with. +Why don't you get out and look for work?"</p> + +<p>This was a thunderbolt in camp.</p> + +<p>"What's it to you?" he said, rising, almost fiercely. "I pay the rent, +don't I? I furnish the——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you pay the rent," said Carrie. "You talk as if there was nothing +else in the world but a flat to sit around in. You haven't done a thing +for three months except sit around and interfere here. I'd like to know +what you married me for?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't marry you," he said, in a snarling tone.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know what you did, then, in Montreal?" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't marry you," he answered. "You can get that out of your +head. You talk as though you didn't know."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him a moment, her eyes distending. She had believed it +was all legal and binding enough.<a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a></p> + +<p>"What did you lie to me for, then?" she asked, fiercely. "What did you +force me to run away with you for?"</p> + +<p>Her voice became almost a sob.</p> + +<p>"Force!" he said, with curled lip. "A lot of forcing I did."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Carrie, breaking under the strain, and turning. "Oh, oh!" and +she hurried into the front room.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was now hot and waked up. It was a great shaking up for him, +both mental and moral. He wiped his brow as he looked around, and then +went for his clothes and dressed. Not a sound came from Carrie; she +ceased sobbing when she heard him dressing. She thought, at first, with +the faintest alarm, of being left without money—not of losing him, +though he might be going away permanently. She heard him open the top of +the wardrobe and take out his hat. Then the dining-room door closed, and +she knew he had gone.</p> + +<p>After a few moments of silence, she stood up, dry-eyed, and looked out +the window. Hurstwood was just strolling up the street, from the flat, +toward Sixth Avenue.</p> + +<p>The latter made progress along Thirteenth and across Fourteenth Street +to Union Square.</p> + +<p>"Look for work!" he said to himself. "Look for work! She tells me to get +out and look for work."</p> + +<p>He tried to shield himself from his own mental accusation, which told +him that she was right.</p> + +<p>"What a cursed thing that Mrs. Vance's call was, anyhow," he thought. +"Stood right there, and looked me over. I know what she was thinking."</p> + +<p>He remembered the few times he had seen her in Seventy-eighth Street. +She was always a swell-looker; and he had tried to put on the air of +being worthy of<a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a> such as she, in front of her. Now, to think she had +caught him looking this way. He wrinkled his forehead in his distress.</p> + +<p>"The devil!" he said a dozen times in an hour.</p> + +<p>It was a quarter after four when he left the house. Carrie was in tears. +There would be no dinner that night.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce," he said, swaggering mentally to hide his own shame +from himself. "I'm not so bad. I'm not down yet."</p> + +<p>He looked around the square, and seeing the several large hotels, +decided to go to one for dinner. He would get his papers and make +himself comfortable there.</p> + +<p>He ascended into the fine parlour of the Morton House, then one of the +best New York hotels, and, finding a cushioned seat, read. It did not +trouble him much that his decreasing sum of money did not allow of such +extravagance. Like the morphine fiend, he was becoming addicted to his +ease. Anything to relieve his mental distress, to satisfy his craving +for comfort. He must do it. No thoughts for the morrow—he could not +stand to think of it any more than he could of any other calamity. Like +the certainty of death, he tried to shut the certainty of soon being +without a dollar completely out of his mind, and he came very near doing +it.</p> + +<p>Well-dressed guests moving to and fro over the thick carpets carried him +back to the old days. A young lady, a guest of the house, playing a +piano in an alcove pleased him. He sat there reading.</p> + +<p>His dinner cost him $1.50. By eight o'clock he was through, and then, +seeing guests leaving and the crowd of pleasure-seekers thickening +outside, wondered where he should go. Not home. Carrie would<a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a> be up. No, +he would not go back there this evening. He would stay out and knock +around as a man who was independent—not broke—well might. He bought a +cigar, and went outside on the corner where other individuals were +lounging—brokers, racing people, thespians—his own flesh and blood. As +he stood there, he thought of the old evenings in Chicago, and how he +used to dispose of them. Many's the game he had had. This took him to +poker.</p> + +<p>"I didn't do that thing right the other day," he thought, referring to +his loss of sixty dollars. "I shouldn't have weakened. I could have +bluffed that fellow down. I wasn't in form, that's what ailed me."</p> + +<p>Then he studied the possibilities of the game as it had been played, and +began to figure how he might have won, in several instances, by bluffing +a little harder.</p> + +<p>"I'm old enough to play poker and do something with it. I'll try my hand +to-night."</p> + +<p>Visions of a big stake floated before him. Supposing he did win a couple +of hundred, wouldn't he be in it? Lots of sports he knew made their +living at this game, and a good living, too.</p> + +<p>"They always had as much as I had," he thought.</p> + +<p>So off he went to a poker room in the neighbourhood, feeling much as he +had in the old days. In this period of self-forgetfulness, aroused first +by the shock of argument and perfected by a dinner in the hotel, with +cocktails and cigars, he was as nearly like the old Hurstwood as he +would ever be again. It was not the old Hurstwood—only a man arguing +with a divided conscience and lured by a phantom.</p> + +<p>This poker room was much like the other one, only it was a back room in +a better drinking resort. Hurstwood watched a while, and then, seeing an +interesting game, joined in. As before, it went easy for a while,<a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a> he +winning a few times and cheering up, losing a few pots and growing more +interested and determined on that account. At last the fascinating game +took a strong hold on him. He enjoyed its risks and ventured, on a +trifling hand, to bluff the company and secure a fair stake. To his +self-satisfaction intense and strong, he did it.</p> + +<p>In the height of this feeling he began to think his luck was with him. +No one else had done so well. Now came another moderate hand, and again +he tried to open the jack-pot on it. There were others there who were +almost reading his heart, so close was their observation.</p> + +<p>"I have three of a kind," said one of the players to himself. "I'll just +stay with that fellow to the finish."</p> + +<p>The result was that bidding began.</p> + +<p>"I raise you ten."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"Ten more."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"Ten again."</p> + +<p>"Right you are."</p> + +<p>It got to where Hurstwood had seventy-five dollars up. The other man +really became serious. Perhaps this individual (Hurstwood) really did +have a stiff hand.</p> + +<p>"I call," he said.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood showed his hand. He was done. The bitter fact that he had lost +seventy-five dollars made him desperate.</p> + +<p>"Let's have another pot," he said, grimly.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the man.</p> + +<p>Some of the other players quit, but observant loungers took their +places. Time passed, and it came to twelve o'clock. Hurstwood held on, +neither winning<a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a> nor losing much. Then he grew weary, and on a last hand +lost twenty more. He was sick at heart.</p> + +<p>At a quarter after one in the morning he came out of the place. The +chill, bare streets seemed a mockery of his state. He walked slowly +west, little thinking of his row with Carrie. He ascended the stairs and +went into his room as if there had been no trouble. It was his loss that +occupied his mind. Sitting down on the bedside he counted his money. +There was now but a hundred and ninety dollars and some change. He put +it up and began to undress.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what's getting into me, anyhow?" he said.</p> + +<p>In the morning Carrie scarcely spoke, and he felt as if he must go out +again. He had treated her badly, but he could not afford to make up. Now +desperation seized him, and for a day or two, going out thus, he lived +like a gentleman—or what he conceived to be a gentleman—which took +money. For his escapades he was soon poorer in mind and body, to say +nothing of his purse, which had lost thirty by the process. Then he came +down to cold, bitter sense again.</p> + +<p>"The rent man comes to-day," said Carrie, greeting him thus +indifferently three mornings later.</p> + +<p>"He does?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; this is the second," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood frowned. Then in despair he got out his purse.</p> + +<p>"It seems an awful lot to pay for rent," he said.</p> + +<p>He was nearing his last hundred dollars.<a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /><br /> +<small>THE SPIRIT AWAKENS: NEW SEARCH FOR THE GATE</small></h2> + +<p>It would be useless to explain how in due time the last fifty dollars +was in sight. The seven hundred, by his process of handling, had only +carried them into June. Before the final hundred mark was reached he +began to indicate that a calamity was approaching.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said one day, taking a trivial expenditure for meat +as a text, "it seems to take an awful lot for us to live."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem to me," said Carrie, "that we spend very much."</p> + +<p>"My money is nearly gone," he said, "and I hardly know where it's gone +to."</p> + +<p>"All that seven hundred dollars?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"All but a hundred."</p> + +<p>He looked so disconsolate that it scared her. She began to see that she +herself had been drifting. She had felt it all the time.</p> + +<p>"Well, George," she exclaimed, "why don't you get out and look for +something? You could find something."</p> + +<p>"I have looked," he said. "You can't make people give you a place."</p> + +<p>She gazed weakly at him and said: "Well, what do you think you will do? +A hundred dollars won't last long."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said. "I can't do any more than look."<a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie became frightened over this announcement. She thought desperately +upon the subject. Frequently she had considered the stage as a door +through which she might enter that gilded state which she had so much +craved. Now, as in Chicago, it came as a last resource in distress. +Something must be done if he did not get work soon. Perhaps she would +have to go out and battle again alone.</p> + +<p>She began to wonder how one would go about getting a place. Her +experience in Chicago proved that she had not tried the right way. There +must be people who would listen to and try you—men who would give you +an opportunity.</p> + +<p>They were talking at the breakfast table, a morning or two later, when +she brought up the dramatic subject by saying that she saw that Sarah +Bernhardt was coming to this country. Hurstwood had seen it, too.</p> + +<p>"How do people get on the stage, George?" she finally asked, innocently.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said. "There must be dramatic agents."</p> + +<p>Carrie was sipping coffee, and did not look up.</p> + +<p>"Regular people who get you a place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," he answered.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the air with which she asked attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>"You're not still thinking about being an actress, are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, "I was just wondering."</p> + +<p>Without being clear, there was something in the thought which he +objected to. He did not believe any more, after three years of +observation, that Carrie would ever do anything great in that line. She +seemed too simple, too yielding. His idea of the art was that it<a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a> +involved something more pompous. If she tried to get on the stage she +would fall into the hands of some cheap manager and become like the rest +of them. He had a good idea of what he meant by <i>them</i>. Carrie was +pretty. She would get along all right, but where would he be?</p> + +<p>"I'd get that idea out of my head, if I were you. It's a lot more +difficult than you think."</p> + +<p>Carrie felt this to contain, in some way, an aspersion upon her ability.</p> + +<p>"You said I did real well in Chicago," she rejoined.</p> + +<p>"You did," he answered, seeing that he was arousing opposition, "but +Chicago isn't New York, by a big jump."</p> + +<p>Carrie did not answer this at all. It hurt her.</p> + +<p>"The stage," he went on, "is all right if you can be one of the big +guns, but there's nothing to the rest of it. It takes a long while to +get up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Carrie, slightly aroused.</p> + +<p>In a flash, he thought he foresaw the result of this thing. Now, when +the worst of his situation was approaching, she would get on the stage +in some cheap way and forsake him. Strangely, he had not conceived well +of her mental ability. That was because he did not understand the nature +of emotional greatness. He had never learned that a person might be +emotionally—instead of intellectually—great. Avery Hall was too far +away for him to look back and sharply remember. He had lived with this +woman too long.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do," he answered. "If I were you I wouldn't think of it. It's +not much of a profession for a woman."</p> + +<p>"It's better than going hungry," said Carrie. "If you don't want me to +do that, why don't you get work yourself?"<a name="page_411" id="page_411"></a></p> + +<p>There was no answer ready for this. He had got used to the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let up," he answered.</p> + +<p>The result of this was that she secretly resolved to try. It didn't +matter about him. She was not going to be dragged into poverty and +something worse to suit him. She could act. She could get something and +then work up. What would he say then? She pictured herself already +appearing in some fine performance on Broadway; of going every evening +to her dressing-room and making up. Then she would come out at eleven +o'clock and see the carriages ranged about, waiting for the people. It +did not matter whether she was the star or not. If she were only once +in, getting a decent salary, wearing the kind of clothes she liked, +having the money to do with, going here and there as she pleased, how +delightful it would all be. Her mind ran over this picture all the day +long. Hurstwood's dreary state made its beauty become more and more +vivid.</p> + +<p>Curiously this idea soon took hold of Hurstwood. His vanishing sum +suggested that he would need sustenance. Why could not Carrie assist him +a little until he could get something?</p> + +<p>He came in one day with something of this idea in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I met John B. Drake to-day," he said. "He's going to open a hotel here +in the fall. He says that he can make a place for me then."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"He's the man that runs the Grand Pacific in Chicago."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I'd get about fourteen hundred a year out of that."<a name="page_412" id="page_412"></a></p> + +<p>"That would be good, wouldn't it?" she said, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"If I can only get over this summer," he added, "I think I'll be all +right. I'm hearing from some of my friends again."</p> + +<p>Carrie swallowed this story in all its pristine beauty. She sincerely +wished he could get through the summer. He looked so hopeless.</p> + +<p>"How much money have you left?"</p> + +<p>"Only fifty dollars."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy," she exclaimed, "what will we do? It's only twenty days +until the rent will be due again."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood rested his head on his hands and looked blankly at the floor.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you could get something in the stage line?" he blandly suggested.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I could," said Carrie, glad that some one approved of the idea.</p> + +<p>"I'll lay my hand to whatever I can get," he said, now that he saw her +brighten up. "I can get something."</p> + +<p>She cleaned up the things one morning after he had gone, dressed as +neatly as her wardrobe permitted, and set out for Broadway. She did not +know that thoroughfare very well. To her it was a wonderful +conglomeration of everything great and mighty. The theatres were +there—these agencies must be somewhere about.</p> + +<p>She decided to stop in at the Madison Square Theatre and ask how to find +the theatrical agents. This seemed the sensible way. Accordingly, when +she reached that theatre she applied to the clerk at the box office.</p> + +<p>"Eh?" he said, looking out. "Dramatic agents? I don't know. You'll find +them in the 'Clipper,' though. They all advertise in that."</p> + +<p>"Is that a paper?" said Carrie.<a name="page_413" id="page_413"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes," said the clerk, marvelling at such ignorance of a common fact. +"You can get it at the news-stands," he added politely, seeing how +pretty the inquirer was.</p> + +<p>Carrie proceeded to get the "Clipper," and tried to find the agents by +looking over it as she stood beside the stand. This could not be done so +easily. Thirteenth Street was a number of blocks off, but she went back, +carrying the precious paper and regretting the waste of time.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was already there, sitting in his place.</p> + +<p>"Where were you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I've been trying to find some dramatic agents."</p> + +<p>He felt a little diffident about asking concerning her success. The +paper she began to scan attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>"What have you got there?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The 'Clipper.' The man said I'd find their addresses in here."</p> + +<p>"Have you been all the way over to Broadway to find that out? I could +have told you."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you?" she asked, without looking up.</p> + +<p>"You never asked me," he returned.</p> + +<p>She went hunting aimlessly through the crowded columns. Her mind was +distracted by this man's indifference. The difficulty of the situation +she was facing was only added to by all he did. Self-commiseration +brewed in her heart. Tears trembled along her eyelids but did not fall. +Hurstwood noticed something.</p> + +<p>"Let me look."</p> + +<p>To recover herself she went into the front room while he searched. +Presently she returned. He had a pencil, and was writing upon an +envelope.</p> + +<p>"Here 're three," he said.</p> + +<p>Carrie took it and found that one was Mrs. Bermudez,<a name="page_414" id="page_414"></a> another Marcus +Jenks, a third Percy Weil. She paused only a moment, and then moved +toward the door.</p> + +<p>"I might as well go right away," she said, without looking back.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood saw her depart with some faint stirrings of shame, which were +the expression of a manhood rapidly becoming stultified. He sat a while, +and then it became too much. He got up and put on his hat.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll go out," he said to himself, and went, strolling nowhere +in particular, but feeling somehow that he must go.</p> + +<p>Carrie's first call was upon Mrs. Bermudez, whose address was quite the +nearest. It was an old-fashioned residence turned into offices. Mrs. +Bermudez's offices consisted of what formerly had been a back chamber +and a hall bedroom, marked "Private."</p> + +<p>As Carrie entered she noticed several persons lounging about—men, who +said nothing and did nothing.</p> + +<p>While she was waiting to be noticed, the door of the hall bedroom opened +and from it issued two very mannish-looking women, very tightly dressed, +and wearing white collars and cuffs. After them came a portly lady of +about forty-five, light-haired, sharp-eyed, and evidently good-natured. +At least she was smiling.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't forget about that," said one of the mannish women.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said the portly woman. "Let's see," she added, "where are you +the first week in February?"</p> + +<p>"Pittsburg," said the woman.</p> + +<p>"I'll write you there."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the other, and the two passed out.</p> + +<p>Instantly the portly lady's face became exceedingly sober and shrewd. +She turned about and fixed on Carrie a very searching eye.<a name="page_415" id="page_415"></a></p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "young woman, what can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Are you Mrs. Bermudez?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Carrie, hesitating how to begin, "do you get places for +persons upon the stage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Could you get me one?"</p> + +<p>"Have you ever had any experience?"</p> + +<p>"A very little," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Whom did you play with?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, with no one," said Carrie. "It was just a show gotten——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," said the woman, interrupting her. "No, I don't know of +anything now."</p> + +<p>Carrie's countenance fell.</p> + +<p>"You want to get some New York experience," concluded the affable Mrs. +Bermudez. "We'll take your name, though."</p> + +<p>Carrie stood looking while the lady retired to her office.</p> + +<p>"What is your address?" inquired a young lady behind the counter, taking +up the curtailed conversation.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. George Wheeler," said Carrie, moving over to where she was +writing. The woman wrote her address in full and then allowed her to +depart at her leisure.</p> + +<p>She encountered a very similar experience in the office of Mr. Jenks, +only he varied it by saying at the close: "If you could play at some +local house, or had a programme with your name on it, I might do +something."</p> + +<p>In the third place the individual asked:</p> + +<p>"What sort of work do you want to do?"<a name="page_416" id="page_416"></a></p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, do you want to get in a comedy or on the vaudeville stage or in +the chorus?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd like to get a part in a play," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the man, "it'll cost you something to do that."</p> + +<p>"How much?" said Carrie, who, ridiculous as it may seem, had not thought +of this before.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's for you to say," he answered shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him curiously. She hardly knew how to continue the +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Could you get me a part if I paid?"</p> + +<p>"If we didn't you'd get your money back."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said.</p> + +<p>The agent saw he was dealing with an inexperienced soul, and continued +accordingly.</p> + +<p>"You'd want to deposit fifty dollars, any way. No agent would trouble +about you for less than that."</p> + +<p>Carrie saw a light.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said. "I'll think about it."</p> + +<p>She started to go, and then bethought herself.</p> + +<p>"How soon would I get a place?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's hard to say," said the man. "You might get one in a week, +or it might be a month. You'd get the first thing that we thought you +could do."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Carrie, and then, half-smiling to be agreeable, she walked +out.</p> + +<p>The agent studied a moment, and then said to himself:</p> + +<p>"It's funny how anxious these women are to get on the stage."</p> + +<p>Carrie found ample food for reflection in the fifty-dollar proposition. +"Maybe they'd take my money and not give me anything," she thought. She +had some jewelry—a diamond ring and pin and several other pieces.<a name="page_417" id="page_417"></a> She +could get fifty dollars for those if she went to a pawnbroker.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood was home before her. He had not thought she would be so long +seeking.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, not venturing to ask what news.</p> + +<p>"I didn't find out anything to-day," said Carrie, taking off her gloves. +"They all want money to get you a place."</p> + +<p>"How much?" asked Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Fifty dollars."</p> + +<p>"They don't want anything, do they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're like everybody else. You can't tell whether they'd ever get +you anything after you did pay them."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't put up fifty on that basis," said Hurstwood, as if he +were deciding, money in hand.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Carrie. "I think I'll try some of the managers."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood heard this, dead to the horror of it. He rocked a little to +and fro, and chewed at his finger. It seemed all very natural in such +extreme states. He would do better later on.<a name="page_418" id="page_418"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /><br /> +<small>IN ELF LAND DISPORTING: THE GRIM WORLD WITHOUT</small></h2> + +<p>When Carrie renewed her search, as she did the next day, going to the +Casino, she found that in the opera chorus, as in other fields, +employment is difficult to secure. Girls who can stand in a line and +look pretty are as numerous as labourers who can swing a pick. She found +there was no discrimination between one and the other of applicants, +save as regards a conventional standard of prettiness and form. Their +own opinion or knowledge of their ability went for nothing.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I find Mr. Gray?" she asked of a sulky doorman at the stage +entrance of the Casino.</p> + +<p>"You can't see him now; he's busy."</p> + +<p>"Do you know when I can see him?"</p> + +<p>"Got an appointment with him?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll have to call at his office."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Carrie. "Where is his office?"</p> + +<p>He gave her the number.</p> + +<p>She knew there was no need of calling there now. He would not be in. +Nothing remained but to employ the intermediate hours in search.</p> + +<p>The dismal story of ventures in other places is quickly told. Mr. Daly +saw no one save by appointment. Carrie waited an hour in a dingy office, +quite in spite of obstacles, to learn this fact of the placid, +indifferent Mr. Dorney.<a name="page_419" id="page_419"></a></p> + +<p>"You will have to write and ask him to see you."</p> + +<p>So she went away.</p> + +<p>At the Empire Theatre she found a hive of peculiarly listless and +indifferent individuals. Everything ornately upholstered, everything +carefully finished, everything remarkably reserved.</p> + +<p>At the Lyceum she entered one of those secluded, under-stairway closets, +berugged and bepanneled, which causes one to feel the greatness of all +positions of authority. Here was reserve itself done into a box-office +clerk, a doorman, and an assistant, glorying in their fine positions.</p> + +<p>"Ah, be very humble now—very humble indeed. Tell us what it is you +require. Tell it quickly, nervously, and without a vestige of +self-respect. If no trouble to us in any way, we may see what we can +do."</p> + +<p>This was the atmosphere of the Lyceum—the attitude, for that matter, of +every managerial office in the city. These little proprietors of +businesses are lords indeed on their own ground.</p> + +<p>Carrie came away wearily, somewhat more abashed for her pains.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood heard the details of the weary and unavailing search that +evening.</p> + +<p>"I didn't get to see any one," said Carrie. "I just walked, and walked, +and waited around."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood only looked at her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have to have some friends before you can get in," she +added, disconsolately.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood saw the difficulty of this thing, and yet it did not seem so +terrible. Carrie was tired and dispirited, but now she could rest. +Viewing the world from his rocking-chair, its bitterness did not seem to +approach so rapidly. To-morrow was another day.</p> + +<p>To-morrow came, and the next, and the next.<a name="page_420" id="page_420"></a></p> + +<p>Carrie saw the manager at the Casino once.</p> + +<p>"Come around," he said, "the first of next week. I may make some changes +then."</p> + +<p>He was a large and corpulent individual, surfeited with good clothes and +good eating, who judged women as another would horseflesh. Carrie was +pretty and graceful. She might be put in even if she did not have any +experience. One of the proprietors had suggested that the chorus was a +little weak on looks.</p> + +<p>The first of next week was some days off yet. The first of the month was +drawing near. Carrie began to worry as she had never worried before.</p> + +<p>"Do you really look for anything when you go out?" she asked Hurstwood +one morning as a climax to some painful thoughts of her own.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," he said pettishly, troubling only a little over the +disgrace of the insinuation.</p> + +<p>"I'd take anything," she said, "for the present. It will soon be the +first of the month again."</p> + +<p>She looked the picture of despair.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood quit reading his paper and changed his clothes.</p> + +<p>"He would look for something," he thought. "He would go and see if some +brewery couldn't get him in somewhere. Yes, he would take a position as +bartender, if he could get it."</p> + +<p>It was the same sort of pilgrimage he had made before. One or two slight +rebuffs, and the bravado disappeared.</p> + +<p>"No use," he thought. "I might as well go on back home."</p> + +<p>Now that his money was so low, he began to observe his clothes and feel +that even his best ones were beginning to look commonplace. This was a +bitter thought.</p> + +<p>Carrie came in after he did.<a name="page_421" id="page_421"></a></p> + +<p>"I went to see some of the variety managers," she said, aimlessly. "You +have to have an act. They don't want anybody that hasn't."</p> + +<p>"I saw some of the brewery people to-day," said Hurstwood. "One man told +me he'd try to make a place for me in two or three weeks."</p> + +<p>In the face of so much distress on Carrie's part, he had to make some +showing, and it was thus he did so. It was lassitude's apology to +energy.</p> + +<p>Monday Carrie went again to the Casino.</p> + +<p>"Did I tell you to come around to-day?" said the manager, looking her +over as she stood before him.</p> + +<p>"You said the first of the week," said Carrie, greatly abashed.</p> + +<p>"Ever had any experience?" he asked again, almost severely.</p> + +<p>Carrie owned to ignorance.</p> + +<p>He looked her over again as he stirred among some papers. He was +secretly pleased with this pretty, disturbed-looking young woman. "Come +around to the theatre to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>Carrie's heart bounded to her throat.</p> + +<p>"I will," she said with difficulty. She could see he wanted her, and +turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Would he really put her to work? Oh, blessed fortune, could it be?"</p> + +<p>Already the hard rumble of the city through the open windows became +pleasant.</p> + +<p>A sharp voice answered her mental interrogation, driving away all +immediate fears on that score.</p> + +<p>"Be sure you're there promptly," the manager said roughly. "You'll be +dropped if you're not."</p> + +<p>Carrie hastened away. She did not quarrel now with Hurstwood's idleness. +She had a place—she had a place! This sang in her ears.<a name="page_422" id="page_422"></a></p> + +<p>In her delight she was almost anxious to tell Hurstwood. But, as she +walked homeward, and her survey of the facts of the case became larger, +she began to think of the anomaly of her finding work in several weeks +and his lounging in idleness for a number of months.</p> + +<p>"Why don't he get something?" she openly said to herself. "If I can he +surely ought to. It wasn't very hard for me."</p> + +<p>She forgot her youth and her beauty. The handicap of age she did not, in +her enthusiasm, perceive.</p> + +<p>Thus, ever, the voice of success.</p> + +<p>Still, she could not keep her secret. She tried to be calm and +indifferent, but it was a palpable sham.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, seeing her relieved face.</p> + +<p>"I have a place."</p> + +<p>"You have?" he said, breathing a better breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a place is it?" he asked, feeling in his veins as if now +he might get something good also.</p> + +<p>"In the chorus," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Is it the Casino show you told me about?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. "I begin rehearsing to-morrow."</p> + +<p>There was more explanation volunteered by Carrie, because she was happy. +At last Hurstwood said:</p> + +<p>"Do you know how much you'll get?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't want to ask," said Carrie. "I guess they pay twelve or +fourteen dollars a week."</p> + +<p>"About that, I guess," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>There was a good dinner in the flat that evening, owing to the mere +lifting of the terrible strain. Hurstwood went out for a shave, and +returned with a fair-sized sirloin steak.</p> + +<p>"Now, to-morrow," he thought, "I'll look around<a name="page_423" id="page_423"></a> myself," and with +renewed hope he lifted his eyes from the ground.</p> + +<p>On the morrow Carrie reported promptly and was given a place in the +line. She saw a large, empty, shadowy play-house, still redolent of the +perfumes and blazonry of the night, and notable for its rich, oriental +appearance. The wonder of it awed and delighted her. Blessed be its +wondrous reality. How hard she would try to be worthy of it. It was +above the common mass, above idleness, above want, above insignificance. +People came to it in finery and carriages to see. It was ever a centre +of light and mirth. And here she was of it. Oh, if she could only +remain, how happy would be her days!</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" said the manager, who was conducting the drill.</p> + +<p>"Madenda," she replied, instantly mindful of the name Drouet had +selected in Chicago. "Carrie Madenda."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Miss Madenda," he said, very affably, as Carrie thought, +"you go over there."</p> + +<p>Then he called to a young woman who was already of the company:</p> + +<p>"Miss Clark, you pair with Miss Madenda."</p> + +<p>This young lady stepped forward, so that Carrie saw where to go, and the +rehearsal began.</p> + +<p>Carrie soon found that while this drilling had some slight resemblance +to the rehearsals as conducted at Avery Hall, the attitude of the +manager was much more pronounced. She had marvelled at the insistence +and superior airs of Mr. Millice, but the individual conducting here had +the same insistence, coupled with almost brutal roughness. As the +drilling proceeded, he seemed to wax exceedingly wroth over trifles, and +to increase his lung power in proportion. It was very<a name="page_424" id="page_424"></a> evident that he +had a great contempt for any assumption of dignity or innocence on the +part of these young women.</p> + +<p>"Clark," he would call—meaning, of course, Miss Clark—"why don't you +catch step there?"</p> + +<p>"By fours, right! Right, I said, right! For heaven's sake, get on to +yourself! Right!" and in saying this he would lift the last sounds into +a vehement roar.</p> + +<p>"Maitland! Maitland!" he called once.</p> + +<p>A nervous, comely-dressed little girl stepped out. Carrie trembled for +her out of the fulness of her own sympathies and fear.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Miss Maitland.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything the matter with your ears?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what 'column left' means?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you stumbling around the right for? Want to break up the +line?"</p> + +<p>"I was just——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what you were just. Keep your ears open."</p> + +<p>Carrie pitied, and trembled for her turn.</p> + +<p>Yet another suffered the pain of personal rebuke.</p> + +<p>"Hold on a minute," cried the manager, throwing up his hands, as if in +despair. His demeanour was fierce.</p> + +<p>"Elvers," he shouted, "what have you got in your mouth?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Miss Elvers, while some smiled and stood nervously by.</p> + +<p>"Well, are you talking?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, keep your mouth still then. Now, all together again."<a name="page_425" id="page_425"></a></p> + +<p>At last Carrie's turn came. It was because of her extreme anxiety to do +all that was required that brought on the trouble.</p> + +<p>She heard some one called.</p> + +<p>"Mason," said the voice. "Miss Mason."</p> + +<p>She looked around to see who it could be. A girl behind shoved her a +little, but she did not understand.</p> + +<p>"You, you!" said the manager. "Can't you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Carrie, collapsing, and blushing fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Isn't your name Mason?" asked the manager.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Carrie, "it's Madenda."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the matter with your feet? Can't you dance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Carrie, who had long since learned this art.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you do it then? Don't go shuffling along as if you were dead. +I've got to have people with life in them."</p> + +<p>Carrie's cheek burned with a crimson heat. Her lips trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," she said.</p> + +<p>It was this constant urging, coupled with irascibility and energy, for +three long hours. Carrie came away worn enough in body, but too excited +in mind to notice it. She meant to go home and practise her evolutions +as prescribed. She would not err in any way, if she could help it.</p> + +<p>When she reached the flat Hurstwood was not there. For a wonder he was +out looking for work, as she supposed. She took only a mouthful to eat +and then practised on, sustained by visions of freedom from financial +distress—"The sound of glory ringing in her ears."</p> + +<p>When Hurstwood returned he was not so elated as when he went away, and +now she was obliged to drop<a name="page_426" id="page_426"></a> practice and get dinner. Here was an early +irritation. She would have her work and this. Was she going to act and +keep house?</p> + +<p>"I'll not do it," she said, "after I get started. He can take his meals +out."</p> + +<p>Each day thereafter brought its cares. She found it was not such a +wonderful thing to be in the chorus, and she also learned that her +salary would be twelve dollars a week. After a few days she had her +first sight of those high and mighties—the leading ladies and +gentlemen. She saw that they were privileged and deferred to. She was +nothing—absolutely nothing at all.</p> + +<p>At home was Hurstwood, daily giving her cause for thought. He seemed to +get nothing to do, and yet he made bold to inquire how she was getting +along. The regularity with which he did this smacked of some one who was +waiting to live upon her labour. Now that she had a visible means of +support, this irritated her. He seemed to be depending upon her little +twelve dollars.</p> + +<p>"How are you getting along?" he would blandly inquire.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," she would reply.</p> + +<p>"Find it easy?"</p> + +<p>"It will be all right when I get used to it."</p> + +<p>His paper would then engross his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I got some lard," he would add, as an afterthought. "I thought maybe +you might want to make some biscuit."</p> + +<p>The calm suggestion of the man astonished her a little, especially in +the light of recent developments. Her dawning independence gave her more +courage to observe, and she felt as if she wanted to say things. Still +she could not talk to him as she had to Drouet. There was something in +the man's manner of which she<a name="page_427" id="page_427"></a> had always stood in awe. He seemed to +have some invisible strength in reserve.</p> + +<p>One day, after her first week's rehearsal, what she expected came openly +to the surface.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to be rather saving," he said, laying down some meat he had +purchased. "You won't get any money for a week or so yet."</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, who was stirring a pan at the stove.</p> + +<p>"I've only got the rent and thirteen dollars more," he added.</p> + +<p>"That's it," she said to herself. "I'm to use my money now."</p> + +<p>Instantly she remembered that she had hoped to buy a few things for +herself. She needed clothes. Her hat was not nice.</p> + +<p>"What will twelve dollars do towards keeping up this flat?" she thought. +"I can't do it. Why doesn't he get something to do?"</p> + +<p>The important night of the first real performance came. She did not +suggest to Hurstwood that he come and see. He did not think of going. It +would only be money wasted. She had such a small part.</p> + +<p>The advertisements were already in the papers; the posters upon the +bill-boards. The leading lady and many members were cited. Carrie was +nothing.</p> + +<p>As in Chicago, she was seized with stage fright as the very first +entrance of the ballet approached, but later she recovered. The apparent +and painful insignificance of the part took fear away from her. She felt +that she was so obscure it did not matter. Fortunately, she did not have +to wear tights. A group of twelve were assigned pretty golden-hued +skirts which came only to a line about an inch above the knee. Carrie +happened to be one of the twelve.<a name="page_428" id="page_428"></a></p> + +<p>In standing about the stage, marching, and occasionally lifting up her +voice in the general chorus, she had a chance to observe the audience +and to see the inauguration of a great hit. There was plenty of +applause, but she could not help noting how poorly some of the women of +alleged ability did.</p> + +<p>"I could do better than that," Carrie ventured to herself, in several +instances. To do her justice, she was right.</p> + +<p>After it was over she dressed quickly, and as the manager had scolded +some others and passed her, she imagined she must have proved +satisfactory. She wanted to get out quickly, because she knew but few, +and the stars were gossiping. Outside were carriages and some correct +youths in attractive clothing, waiting. Carrie saw that she was scanned +closely. The flutter of an eyelash would have brought her a companion. +That she did not give.</p> + +<p>One experienced youth volunteered, anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Not going home alone, are you?" he said.</p> + +<p>Carrie merely hastened her steps and took the Sixth Avenue car. Her head +was so full of the wonder of it that she had time for nothing else.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear any more from the brewery?" she asked at the end of the +week, hoping by the question to stir him on to action.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, "they're not quite ready yet. I think something will +come of that, though."</p> + +<p>She said nothing more then, objecting to giving up her own money, and +yet feeling that such would have to be the case. Hurstwood felt the +crisis, and artfully decided to appeal to Carrie. He had long since +realised how good-natured she was, how much she would stand. There was +some little shame in him at the thought of doing so, but he justified +himself with the thought that<a name="page_429" id="page_429"></a> he really would get something. Rent day +gave him his opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, as he counted it out, "that's about the last of my +money. I'll have to get something pretty soon."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him askance, half-suspicious of an appeal.</p> + +<p>"If I could only hold out a little longer I think I could get something. +Drake is sure to open a hotel here in September."</p> + +<p>"Is he?" said Carrie, thinking of the short month that still remained +until that time.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind helping me out until then?" he said appealingly. "I +think I'll be all right after that time."</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, feeling sadly handicapped by fate.</p> + +<p>"We can get along if we economise. I'll pay you back all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll help you," said Carrie, feeling quite hard-hearted at thus +forcing him to humbly appeal, and yet her desire for the benefit of her +earnings wrung a faint protest from her.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you take anything, George, temporarily?" she said. "What +difference does it make? Maybe, after a while, you'll get something +better."</p> + +<p>"I will take anything," he said, relieved, and wincing under reproof. +"I'd just as leave dig on the streets. Nobody knows me here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't do that," said Carrie, hurt by the pity of it. "But +there must be other things."</p> + +<p>"I'll get something!" he said, assuming determination.</p> + +<p>Then he went back to his paper.<a name="page_430" id="page_430"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /><br /> +<small>OF LIGHTS AND OF SHADOWS: THE PARTING OF WORLDS</small></h2> + +<p>What Hurstwood got as the result of this determination was more +self-assurance that each particular day was not the day. At the same +time, Carrie passed through thirty days of mental distress.</p> + +<p>Her need of clothes—to say nothing of her desire for ornaments—grew +rapidly as the fact developed that for all her work she was not to have +them. The sympathy she felt for Hurstwood, at the time he asked her to +tide him over, vanished with these newer urgings of decency. He was not +always renewing his request, but this love of good appearance was. It +insisted, and Carrie wished to satisfy it, wished more and more that +Hurstwood was not in the way.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood reasoned, when he neared the last ten dollars, that he had +better keep a little pocket change and not become wholly dependent for +car-fare, shaves, and the like; so when this sum was still in his hand +he announced himself as penniless.</p> + +<p>"I'm clear out," he said to Carrie one afternoon. "I paid for some coal +this morning, and that took all but ten or fifteen cents."</p> + +<p>"I've got some money there in my purse."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood went to get it, starting for a can of tomatoes. Carrie +scarcely noticed that this was the beginning of the new order. He took +out fifteen cents and bought the can with it. Thereafter it was dribs +and drabs of this sort, until one morning Carrie suddenly<a name="page_431" id="page_431"></a> remembered +that she would not be back until close to dinner time.</p> + +<p>"We're all out of flour," she said; "you'd better get some this +afternoon. We haven't any meat, either. How would it do if we had liver +and bacon?"</p> + +<p>"Suits me," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Better get a half or three-quarters of a pound of that."</p> + +<p>"Half'll be enough," volunteered Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>She opened her purse and laid down a half dollar. He pretended not to +notice it.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood bought the flour—which all grocers sold in 3½-pound +packages—for thirteen cents and paid fifteen cents for a half-pound of +liver and bacon. He left the packages, together with the balance of +thirty-two cents, upon the kitchen table, where Carrie found it. It did +not escape her that the change was accurate. There was something sad in +realising that, after all, all that he wanted of her was something to +eat. She felt as if hard thoughts were unjust. Maybe he would get +something yet. He had no vices.</p> + +<p>That very evening, however, on going into the theatre, one of the chorus +girls passed her all newly arrayed in a pretty mottled tweed suit, which +took Carrie's eye. The young woman wore a fine bunch of violets and +seemed in high spirits. She smiled at Carrie good-naturedly as she +passed, showing pretty, even teeth, and Carrie smiled back.</p> + +<p>"She can afford to dress well," thought Carrie, "and so could I, if I +could only keep my money. I haven't a decent tie of any kind to wear."</p> + +<p>She put out her foot and looked at her shoe reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I'll get a pair of shoes Saturday, anyhow; I don't care what happens."<a name="page_432" id="page_432"></a></p> + +<p>One of the sweetest and most sympathetic little chorus girls in the +company made friends with her because in Carrie she found nothing to +frighten her away. She was a gay little Manon, unwitting of society's +fierce conception of morality, but, nevertheless, good to her neighbour +and charitable. Little license was allowed the chorus in the matter of +conversation, but, nevertheless, some was indulged in.</p> + +<p>"It's warm to-night, isn't it?" said this girl, arrayed in pink +fleshings and an imitation golden helmet. She also carried a shining +shield.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is," said Carrie, pleased that some one should talk to her.</p> + +<p>"I'm almost roasting," said the girl.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked into her pretty face, with its large blue eyes, and saw +little beads of moisture.</p> + +<p>"There's more marching in this opera than ever I did before," added the +girl.</p> + +<p>"Have you been in others?" asked Carrie, surprised at her experience.</p> + +<p>"Lots of them," said the girl; "haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"This is my first experience."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it? I thought I saw you the time they ran 'The Queen's Mate' +here."</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, shaking her head; "not me."</p> + +<p>This conversation was interrupted by the blare of the orchestra and the +sputtering of the calcium lights in the wings as the line was called to +form for a new entrance. No further opportunity for conversation +occurred, but the next evening, when they were getting ready for the +stage, this girl appeared anew at her side.</p> + +<p>"They say this show is going on the road next month."</p> + +<p>"Is it?" said Carrie.<a name="page_433" id="page_433"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes; do you think you'll go?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I guess so, if they'll take me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll take you. I wouldn't go. They won't give you any more, and +it will cost you everything you make to live. I never leave New York. +There are too many shows going on here."</p> + +<p>"Can you always get in another show?"</p> + +<p>"I always have. There's one going on up at the Broadway this month. I'm +going to try and get in that if this one really goes."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard this with aroused intelligence. Evidently it wasn't so very +difficult to get on. Maybe she also could get a place if this show went +away.</p> + +<p>"Do they all pay about the same?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Sometimes you get a little more. This show doesn't pay very much."</p> + +<p>"I get twelve," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" said the girl. "They pay me fifteen, and you do more work than +I do. I wouldn't stand it if I were you. They're just giving you less +because they think you don't know. You ought to be making fifteen."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll get more at the next place if you want it," went on the +girl, who admired Carrie very much. "You do fine, and the manager knows +it."</p> + +<p>To say the truth, Carrie did unconsciously move about with an air +pleasing and somewhat distinctive. It was due wholly to her natural +manner and total lack of self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I could get more up at the Broadway?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you can," answered the girl. "You come with me when I go. +I'll do the talking."</p> + +<p>Carrie heard this, flushing with thankfulness. She<a name="page_434" id="page_434"></a> liked this little +gaslight soldier. She seemed so experienced and self-reliant in her +tinsel helmet and military accoutrements.</p> + +<p>"My future must be assured if I can always get work this way," thought +Carrie.</p> + +<p>Still, in the morning, when her household duties would infringe upon her +and Hurstwood sat there, a perfect load to contemplate, her fate seemed +dismal and unrelieved. It did not take so very much to feed them under +Hurstwood's close-measured buying, and there would possibly be enough +for rent, but it left nothing else. Carrie bought the shoes and some +other things, which complicated the rent problem very seriously. +Suddenly, a week from the fatal day, Carrie realised that they were +going to run short.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," she exclaimed, looking into her purse at breakfast, +"that I'll have enough to pay the rent."</p> + +<p>"How much have you?" inquired Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've got twenty-two dollars, but there's everything to be paid +for this week yet, and if I use all I get Saturday to pay this, there +won't be any left for next week. Do you think your hotel man will open +his hotel this month?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," returned Hurstwood. "He said he would."</p> + +<p>After a while, Hurstwood said:</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about it. Maybe the grocer will wait. He can do that. We've +traded there long enough to make him trust us for a week or two."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he will?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>On this account, Hurstwood, this very day, looked grocer Oeslogge +clearly in the eye as he ordered a pound of coffee, and said:<a name="page_435" id="page_435"></a></p> + +<p>"Do you mind carrying my account until the end of every week?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Mr. Wheeler," said Mr. Oeslogge. "Dat iss all right."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, still tactful in distress, added nothing to this. It seemed +an easy thing. He looked out of the door, and then gathered up his +coffee when ready and came away. The game of a desperate man had begun.</p> + +<p>Rent was paid, and now came the grocer. Hurstwood managed by paying out +of his own ten and collecting from Carrie at the end of the week. Then +he delayed a day next time settling with the grocer, and so soon had his +ten back, with Oeslogge getting his pay on this Thursday or Friday for +last Saturday's bill.</p> + +<p>This entanglement made Carrie anxious for a change of some sort. +Hurstwood did not seem to realise that she had a right to anything. He +schemed to make what she earned cover all expenses, but seemed not to +trouble over adding anything himself.</p> + +<p>"He talks about worrying," thought Carrie. "If he worried enough he +couldn't sit there and wait for me. He'd get something to do. No man +could go seven months without finding something if he tried."</p> + +<p>The sight of him always around in his untidy clothes and gloomy +appearance drove Carrie to seek relief in other places. Twice a week +there were matinées, and then Hurstwood ate a cold snack, which he +prepared himself. Two other days there were rehearsals beginning at ten +in the morning and lasting usually until one. Now, to this Carrie added +a few visits to one or two chorus girls, including the blue-eyed soldier +of the golden helmet. She did it because it was pleasant and a relief +from dulness of the home over which her husband brooded.</p> + +<p>The blue-eyed soldier's name was Osborne—Lola<a name="page_436" id="page_436"></a> Osborne. Her room was in +Nineteenth Street near Fourth Avenue, a block now given up wholly to +office buildings. Here she had a comfortable back room, looking over a +collection of back yards in which grew a number of shade trees pleasant +to see.</p> + +<p>"Isn't your home in New York?" she asked of Lola one day.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I can't get along with my people. They always want me to do +what they want. Do you live here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"With your family?"</p> + +<p>Carrie was ashamed to say that she was married. She had talked so much +about getting more salary and confessed to so much anxiety about her +future, that now, when the direct question of fact was waiting, she +could not tell this girl.</p> + +<p>"With some relatives," she answered.</p> + +<p>Miss Osborne took it for granted that, like herself, Carrie's time was +her own. She invariably asked her to stay, proposing little outings and +other things of that sort until Carrie began neglecting her dinner +hours. Hurstwood noticed it, but felt in no position to quarrel with +her. Several times she came so late as scarcely to have an hour in which +to patch up a meal and start for the theatre.</p> + +<p>"Do you rehearse in the afternoons?" Hurstwood once asked, concealing +almost completely the cynical protest and regret which prompted it.</p> + +<p>"No; I was looking around for another place," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact she was, but only in such a way as furnished the +least straw of an excuse. Miss Osborne and she had gone to the office of +the manager who was to produce the new opera at the Broadway<a name="page_437" id="page_437"></a> and +returned straight to the former's room, where they had been since three +o'clock.</p> + +<p>Carrie felt this question to be an infringement on her liberty. She did +not take into account how much liberty she was securing. Only the latest +step, the newest freedom, must not be questioned.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood saw it all clearly enough. He was shrewd after his kind, and +yet there was enough decency in the man to stop him from making any +effectual protest. In his almost inexplicable apathy he was content to +droop supinely while Carrie drifted out of his life, just as he was +willing supinely to see opportunity pass beyond his control. He could +not help clinging and protesting in a mild, irritating, and ineffectual +way, however—a way that simply widened the breach by slow degrees.</p> + +<p>A further enlargement of this chasm between them came when the manager, +looking between the wings upon the brightly lighted stage where the +chorus was going through some of its glittering evolutions, said to the +master of the ballet:</p> + +<p>"Who is that fourth girl there on the right—the one coming round at the +end now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the ballet-master, "that's Miss Madenda."</p> + +<p>"She's good looking. Why don't you let her head that line?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said the man.</p> + +<p>"Just do that. She'll look better there than the woman you've got."</p> + +<p>"All right. I will do that," said the master.</p> + +<p>The next evening Carrie was called out, much as if for an error.</p> + +<p>"You lead your company to-night," said the master.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Carrie.<a name="page_438" id="page_438"></a></p> + +<p>"Put snap into it," he added. "We must have snap."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Carrie.</p> + +<p>Astonished at this change, she thought that the heretofore leader must +be ill; but when she saw her in the line, with a distinct expression of +something unfavourable in her eye, she began to think that perhaps it +was merit.</p> + +<p>She had a chic way of tossing her head to one side, and holding her arms +as if for action—not listlessly. In front of the line this showed up +even more effectually.</p> + +<p>"That girl knows how to carry herself," said the manager, another +evening. He began to think that he should like to talk with her. If he +hadn't made it a rule to have nothing to do with the members of the +chorus, he would have approached her most unbendingly.</p> + +<p>"Put that girl at the head of the white column," he suggested to the man +in charge of the ballet.</p> + +<p>This white column consisted of some twenty girls, all in snow-white +flannel trimmed with silver and blue. Its leader was most stunningly +arrayed in the same colours, elaborated, however, with epaulets and a +belt of silver, with a short sword dangling at one side. Carrie was +fitted for this costume, and a few days later appeared, proud of her new +laurels. She was especially gratified to find that her salary was now +eighteen instead of twelve.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood heard nothing about this.</p> + +<p>"I'll not give him the rest of my money," said Carrie. "I do enough. I +am going to get me something to wear."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, during this second month she had been buying for +herself as recklessly as she dared, regardless of the consequences. +There were impending more complications rent day, and more extension<a name="page_439" id="page_439"></a> of +the credit system in the neighbourhood. Now, however, she proposed to do +better by herself.</p> + +<p>Her first move was to buy a shirt waist, and in studying these she found +how little her money would buy—how much, if she could only use all. She +forgot that if she were alone she would have to pay for a room and +board, and imagined that every cent of her eighteen could be spent for +clothes and things that she liked.</p> + +<p>At last she picked upon something, which not only used up all her +surplus above twelve, but invaded that sum. She knew she was going too +far, but her feminine love of finery prevailed. The next day Hurstwood +said:</p> + +<p>"We owe the grocer five dollars and forty cents this week."</p> + +<p>"Do we?" said Carrie, frowning a little.</p> + +<p>She looked in her purse to leave it.</p> + +<p>"I've only got eight dollars and twenty cents altogether."</p> + +<p>"We owe the milkman sixty cents," added Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and there's the coal man," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood said nothing. He had seen the new things she was buying; the +way she was neglecting household duties; the readiness with which she +was slipping out afternoons and staying. He felt that something was +going to happen. All at once she spoke:</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said; "I can't do it all. I don't earn enough."</p> + +<p>This was a direct challenge. Hurstwood had to take it up. He tried to be +calm.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to do it all," he said. "I only want a little help +until I can get something to do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered Carrie. "That's always the<a name="page_440" id="page_440"></a> way. It takes more than +I can earn to pay for things. I don't see what I'm going to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've tried to get something," he exclaimed. "What do you want me +to do?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't have tried so very hard," said Carrie. "I got something."</p> + +<p>"Well, I did," he said, angered almost to harsh words. "You needn't +throw up your success to me. All I asked was a little help until I could +get something. I'm not down yet. I'll come up all right."</p> + +<p>He tried to speak steadily, but his voice trembled a little.</p> + +<p>Carrie's anger melted on the instant. She felt ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "here's the money," and emptied it out on the table. +"I haven't got quite enough to pay it all. If they can wait until +Saturday, though, I'll have some more."</p> + +<p>"You keep it," said Hurstwood, sadly. "I only want enough to pay the +grocer."</p> + +<p>She put it back, and proceeded to get dinner early and in good time. Her +little bravado made her feel as if she ought to make amends.</p> + +<p>In a little while their old thoughts returned to both.</p> + +<p>"She's making more than she says," thought Hurstwood. "She says she's +making twelve, but that wouldn't buy all those things. I don't care. Let +her keep her money. I'll get something again one of these days. Then she +can go to the deuce."</p> + +<p>He only said this in his anger, but it prefigured a possible course of +action and attitude well enough.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," thought Carrie. "He ought to be told to get out and do +something. It isn't right that I should support him."</p> + +<p>In these days Carrie was introduced to several youths,<a name="page_441" id="page_441"></a> friends of Miss +Osborne, who were of the kind most aptly described as gay and festive. +They called once to get Miss Osborne for an afternoon drive. Carrie was +with her at the time.</p> + +<p>"Come and go along," said Lola.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, come and go. What have you got to do?"</p> + +<p>"I have to be home by five," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dinner."</p> + +<p>"They'll take us to dinner," said Lola.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Carrie. "I won't go. I can't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do come. They're awful nice boys. We'll get you back in time. We're +only going for a drive in Central Park."</p> + +<p>Carrie thought a while, and at last yielded.</p> + +<p>"Now, I must be back by half-past four," she said.</p> + +<p>The information went in one ear of Lola and out the other.</p> + +<p>After Drouet and Hurstwood, there was the least touch of cynicism in her +attitude toward young men—especially of the gay and frivolous sort. She +felt a little older than they. Some of their pretty compliments seemed +silly. Still, she was young in heart and body and youth appealed to her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll be right back, Miss Madenda," said one of the chaps, bowing. +"You wouldn't think we'd keep you over time, now, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," said Carrie, smiling.</p> + +<p>They were off for a drive—she, looking about and noticing fine +clothing, the young men voicing those silly pleasantries and weak quips +which pass for humour in coy circles. Carrie saw the great park parade +of carriages, beginning at the Fifty-ninth Street entrance<a name="page_442" id="page_442"></a> and winding +past the Museum of Art to the exit at One Hundred and Tenth Street and +Seventh Avenue. Her eye was once more taken by the show of wealth—the +elaborate costumes, elegant harnesses, spirited horses, and, above all, +the beauty. Once more the plague of poverty galled her, but now she +forgot in a measure her own troubles so far as to forget Hurstwood. He +waited until four, five, and even six. It was getting dark when he got +up out of his chair.</p> + +<p>"I guess she isn't coming home," he said, grimly.</p> + +<p>"That's the way," he thought. "She's getting a start now. I'm out of +it."</p> + +<p>Carrie had really discovered her neglect, but only at a quarter after +five, and the open carriage was now far up Seventh Avenue, near the +Harlem River.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she inquired. "I must be getting back."</p> + +<p>"A quarter after five," said her companion, consulting an elegant, +open-faced watch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Carrie. Then she settled back with a sigh. +"There's no use crying over spilt milk," she said. "It's too late."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," said the youth, who saw visions of a fine dinner now, +and such invigorating talk as would result in a reunion after the show. +He was greatly taken with Carrie. "We'll drive down to Delmonico's now +and have something there, won't we, Orrin?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure," replied Orrin, gaily.</p> + +<p>Carrie thought of Hurstwood. Never before had she neglected dinner +without an excuse.</p> + +<p>They drove back, and at 6.15 sat down to dine. It was the Sherry +incident over again, the remembrance of which came painfully back to +Carrie. She remembered Mrs. Vance, who had never called again after +Hurstwood's reception, and Ames.<a name="page_443" id="page_443"></a></p> + +<p>At this figure her mind halted. It was a strong, clean vision. He liked +better books than she read, better people than she associated with. His +ideals burned in her heart.</p> + +<p>"It's fine to be a good actress," came distinctly back.</p> + +<p>What sort of an actress was she?</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about, Miss Madenda?" inquired her merry +companion. "Come, now, let's see if I can guess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Carrie. "Don't try."</p> + +<p>She shook it off and ate. She forgot, in part, and was merry. When it +came to the after-theatre proposition, however, she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I can't. I have a previous engagement."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, Miss Madenda," pleaded the youth.</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, "I can't. You've been so kind, but you'll have to +excuse me."</p> + +<p>The youth looked exceedingly crestfallen.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, old man," whispered his companion. "We'll go around, anyhow. +She may change her mind."<a name="page_444" id="page_444"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL<br /><br /> +<small>A PUBLIC DISSENSION: A FINAL APPEAL</small></h2> + +<p>There was no after-theatre lark, however, so far as Carrie was +concerned. She made her way homeward, thinking about her absence. +Hurstwood was asleep, but roused up to look as she passed through to her +own bed.</p> + +<p>"Is that you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered.</p> + +<p>The next morning at breakfast she felt like apologising.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get home last evening," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Carrie," he answered, "what's the use saying that? I don't care. +You needn't tell me that, though."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't," said Carrie, her colour rising. Then, seeing that he +looked as if he said "I know," she exclaimed: "Oh, all right. I don't +care."</p> + +<p>From now on, her indifference to the flat was even greater. There seemed +no common ground on which they could talk to one another. She let +herself be asked for expenses. It became so with him that he hated to do +it. He preferred standing off the butcher and baker. He ran up a grocery +bill of sixteen dollars with Oeslogge, laying in a supply of staple +articles, so that they would not have to buy any of those things for +some time to come. Then he changed his grocery. It was the same with the +butcher and several others. Carrie never heard anything of this directly +from him. He asked for such as he could expect, drifting farther and<a name="page_445" id="page_445"></a> +farther into a situation which could have but one ending.</p> + +<p>In this fashion, September went by.</p> + +<p>"Isn't Mr. Drake going to open his hotel?" Carrie asked several times.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He won't do it before October, though, now."</p> + +<p>Carrie became disgusted. "Such a man," she said to herself frequently. +More and more she visited. She put most of her spare money in clothes, +which, after all, was not an astonishing amount. At last the opera she +was with announced its departure within four weeks. "Last two weeks of +the Great Comic Opera success—The ——," etc., was upon all bill-boards +and in the newspapers, before she acted.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going out on the road," said Miss Osborne.</p> + +<p>Carrie went with her to apply to another manager.</p> + +<p>"Ever had any experience?" was one of his questions.</p> + +<p>"I'm with the company at the Casino now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are?" he said.</p> + +<p>The end of this was another engagement at twenty per week.</p> + +<p>Carrie was delighted. She began to feel that she had a place in the +world. People recognised ability.</p> + +<p>So changed was her state that the home atmosphere became intolerable. It +was all poverty and trouble there, or seemed to be, because it was a +load to bear. It became a place to keep away from. Still she slept +there, and did a fair amount of work, keeping it in order. It was a +sitting place for Hurstwood. He sat and rocked, rocked and read, +enveloped in the gloom of his own fate. October went by, and November. +It was the dead of winter almost before he knew it, and there he sat.</p> + +<p>Carrie was doing better, that he knew. Her clothes<a name="page_446" id="page_446"></a> were improved now, +even fine. He saw her coming and going, sometimes picturing to himself +her rise. Little eating had thinned him somewhat. He had no appetite. +His clothes, too, were a poor man's clothes. Talk about getting +something had become even too threadbare and ridiculous for him. So he +folded his hands and waited—for what, he could not anticipate.</p> + +<p>At last, however, troubles became too thick. The hounding of creditors, +the indifference of Carrie, the silence of the flat, and presence of +winter, all joined to produce a climax. It was effected by the arrival +of Oeslogge, personally, when Carrie was there.</p> + +<p>"I call about my bill," said Mr. Oeslogge.</p> + +<p>Carrie was only faintly surprised.</p> + +<p>"How much is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Sixteen dollars," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that much?" said Carrie. "Is this right?" she asked, turning to +Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never heard anything about it."</p> + +<p>She looked as if she thought he had been contracting some needless +expense.</p> + +<p>"Well, we had it all right," he answered. Then he went to the door. "I +can't pay you anything on that to-day," he said, mildly.</p> + +<p>"Well, when can you?" said the grocer.</p> + +<p>"Not before Saturday, anyhow," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" returned the grocer. "This is fine. I must have that. I need the +money."</p> + +<p>Carrie was standing farther back in the room, hearing it all. She was +greatly distressed. It was so bad and commonplace. Hurstwood was annoyed +also.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "there's no use talking about it now. If you'll come in +Saturday, I'll pay you something on it."<a name="page_447" id="page_447"></a></p> + +<p>The grocery man went away.</p> + +<p>"How are we going to pay it?" asked Carrie, astonished by the bill. "I +can't do it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't have to," he said. "He can't get what he can't get. +He'll have to wait."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how we ran up such a bill as that," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, we ate it," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"It's funny," she replied, still doubting.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of your standing there and talking like that, now?" he +asked. "Do you think I've had it alone? You talk as if I'd taken +something."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's too much, anyhow," said Carrie. "I oughtn't to be made to +pay for it. I've got more than I can pay for now."</p> + +<p>"All right," replied Hurstwood, sitting down in silence. He was sick of +the grind of this thing.</p> + +<p>Carrie went out, and there he sat, determining to do something.</p> + +<p>There had been appearing in the papers about this time rumours and +notices of an approaching strike on the trolley lines in Brooklyn. There +was general dissatisfaction as to the hours of labour required and the +wages paid. As usual—and for some inexplicable reason—the men chose +the winter for the forcing of the hand of their employers and the +settlement of their difficulties.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood had been reading of this thing, and wondering concerning the +huge tie-up which would follow. A day or two before this trouble with +Carrie, it came. On a cold afternoon, when everything was grey and it +threatened to snow, the papers announced that the men had been called +out on all the lines.</p> + +<p>Being so utterly idle, and his mind filled with the numerous predictions +which had been made concerning<a name="page_448" id="page_448"></a> the scarcity of labour this winter and +the panicky state of the financial market, Hurstwood read this with +interest. He noted the claims of the striking motormen and conductors, +who said that they had been wont to receive two dollars a day in times +past, but that for a year or more "trippers" had been introduced, which +cut down their chance of livelihood one-half, and increased their hours +of servitude from ten to twelve, and even fourteen. These "trippers" +were men put on during the busy and <i>rush</i> hours, to take a car out for +one trip. The compensation paid for such a trip was only twenty-five +cents. When the rush or busy hours were over, they were laid off. Worst +of all, no man might know when he was going to get a car. He must come +to the barns in the morning and wait around in fair and foul weather +until such time as he was needed. Two trips were an average reward for +so much waiting—a little over three hours' work for fifty cents. The +work of waiting was not counted.</p> + +<p>The men complained that this system was extending, and that the time was +not far off when but a few out of 7,000 employees would have regular +two-dollar-a-day work at all. They demanded that the system be +abolished, and that ten hours be considered a day's work, barring +unavoidable delays, with $2.25 pay. They demanded immediate acceptance +of these terms, which the various trolley companies refused.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood at first sympathised with the demands of these men—indeed, it +is a question whether he did not always sympathise with them to the end, +belie him as his actions might. Reading nearly all the news, he was +attracted first by the scare-heads with which the trouble was noted in +the "World." He read it fully—the names of the seven companies +involved, the number of men.<a name="page_449" id="page_449"></a></p> + +<p>"They're foolish to strike in this sort of weather," he thought to +himself. "Let 'em win if they can, though."</p> + +<p>The next day there was even a larger notice of it. "Brooklynites Walk," +said the "World." "Knights of Labour Tie up the Trolley Lines Across the +Bridge." "About Seven Thousand Men Out."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood read this, formulating to himself his own idea of what would +be the outcome. He was a great believer in the strength of corporations.</p> + +<p>"They can't win," he said, concerning the men. "They haven't any money. +The police will protect the companies. They've got to. The public has to +have its cars."</p> + +<p>He didn't sympathise with the corporations, but strength was with them. +So was property and public utility.</p> + +<p>"Those fellows can't win," he thought.</p> + +<p>Among other things, he noticed a circular issued by one of the +companies, which read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="r">"<small>ATLANTIC AVENUE RAILROAD</small>.</p> + +<p class="c">"SPECIAL NOTICE.</p> + +<p>"The motormen and conductors and other employees of this company +having abruptly left its service, an opportunity is now given to +all loyal men who have struck against their will to be reinstated, +providing they will make their applications by twelve o'clock noon +on Wednesday, January 16th. Such men will be given employment (with +guaranteed protection) in the order in which such applications are +received, and runs and positions assigned them accordingly. +Otherwise, they will be considered discharged, and every vacancy +will be filled by a new man as soon as his services can be secured.</p> + +<p class="r"><span style="margin-right: 15%;">"(Signed)</span><br /> +"B<small>ENJAMIN</small> N<small>ORTON</small>, <br /> +"<i>President</i>." +</p></div> + +<p>He also noted among the want ads. one which read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"WANTED.—50 skilled motormen, accustomed to Westinghouse system, +to run U. S. mail cars only, in the City of Brooklyn; protection +guaranteed."</p></div> + +<p>He noted particularly in each the "protection guaranteed." It signified +to him the unassailable power of the companies.</p> + +<p>"They've got the militia on their side," he thought. "There isn't +anything those men can do."</p> + +<p>While this was still in his mind, the incident with Oeslogge and Carrie +occurred. There had been a good deal to irritate him, but this seemed +much the worst. Never before had she accused him of stealing—or very +near that. She doubted the naturalness of so large a bill. And he had +worked so hard to make expenses seem light. He had been "doing" butcher +and baker in order not to call on her. He had eaten very little—almost +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Damn it all!" he said. "I can get something. I'm not down yet."</p> + +<p>He thought that he really must do something now. It was too cheap to sit +around after such an insinuation as this. Why, after a little, he would +be standing anything.</p> + +<p>He got up and looked out the window into the chilly street. It came +gradually into his mind, as he stood there, to go to Brooklyn.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" his mind said. "Any one can get work over there. You'll get +two a day."</p> + +<p>"How about accidents?" said a voice. "You might get hurt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there won't be much of that," he answered. "They've called out the +police. Any one who wants to run a car will be protected all right."<a name="page_451" id="page_451"></a></p> + +<p>"You don't know how to run a car," rejoined the voice.</p> + +<p>"I won't apply as a motorman," he answered. "I can ring up fares all +right."</p> + +<p>"They'll want motormen mostly."</p> + +<p>"They'll take anybody; that I know."</p> + +<p>For several hours he argued pro and con with this mental counsellor, +feeling no need to act at once in a matter so sure of profit.</p> + +<p>In the morning he put on his best clothes, which were poor enough, and +began stirring about, putting some bread and meat into a page of a +newspaper. Carrie watched him, interested in this new move.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Over to Brooklyn," he answered. Then, seeing her still inquisitive, he +added: "I think I can get on over there."</p> + +<p>"On the trolley lines?" said Carrie, astonished.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he rejoined.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you afraid?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What of?" he answered. "The police are protecting them."</p> + +<p>"The paper said four men were hurt yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he returned; "but you can't go by what the papers say. They'll +run the cars all right."</p> + +<p>He looked rather determined now, in a desolate sort of way, and Carrie +felt very sorry. Something of the old Hurstwood was here—the least +shadow of what was once shrewd and pleasant strength. Outside, it was +cloudy and blowing a few flakes of snow.</p> + +<p>"What a day to go over there," thought Carrie.</p> + +<p>Now he left before she did, which was a remarkable thing, and tramped +eastward to Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue, where he took the car. +He had read that scores of applicants were applying at the office of<a name="page_452" id="page_452"></a> +the Brooklyn City Railroad building and were being received. He made his +way there by horse-car and ferry—a dark, silent man—to the offices in +question. It was a long way, for no cars were running, and the day was +cold; but he trudged along grimly. Once in Brooklyn, he could clearly +see and feel that a strike was on. People showed it in their manner. +Along the routes of certain tracks not a car was running. About certain +corners and near-by saloons small groups of men were lounging. Several +spring wagons passed him, equipped with plain wooden chairs, and +labelled "Flatbush" or "Prospect Park. Fare, Ten Cents." He noticed cold +and even gloomy faces. Labour was having its little war.</p> + +<p>When he came near the office in question, he saw a few men standing +about, and some policemen. On the far corners were other men—whom he +took to be strikers—watching. All the houses were small and wooden, the +streets poorly paved. After New York, Brooklyn looked actually poor and +hard-up.</p> + +<p>He made his way into the heart of the small group, eyed by policemen and +the men already there. One of the officers addressed him.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking for?"</p> + +<p>"I want to see if I can get a place."</p> + +<p>"The offices are up those steps," said the bluecoat. His face was a very +neutral thing to contemplate. In his heart of hearts, he sympathised +with the strikers and hated this "scab." In his heart of hearts, also, +he felt the dignity and use of the police force, which commanded order. +Of its true social significance, he never once dreamed. His was not the +mind for that. The two feelings blended in him—neutralised one another +and him. He would have fought for this man as determinedly as for +himself, and yet only so far as<a name="page_453" id="page_453"></a> commanded. Strip him of his uniform, +and he would have soon picked his side.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood ascended a dusty flight of steps and entered a small, +dust-coloured office, in which were a railing, a long desk, and several +clerks.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir?" said a middle-aged man, looking up at him from the long +desk.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to hire any men?" inquired Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"What are you—a motorman?"</p> + +<p>"No; I'm not anything," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>He was not at all abashed by his position. He knew these people needed +men. If one didn't take him, another would. This man could take him or +leave him, just as he chose.</p> + +<p>"Well, we prefer experienced men, of course," said the man. He paused, +while Hurstwood smiled indifferently. Then he added: "Still, I guess you +can learn. What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Wheeler," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>The man wrote an order on a small card. "Take that to our barns," he +said, "and give it to the foreman. He'll show you what to do."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood went down and out. He walked straight away in the direction +indicated, while the policemen looked after.</p> + +<p>"There's another wants to try it," said Officer Kiely to Officer Macey.</p> + +<p>"I have my mind he'll get his fill," returned the latter, quietly.</p> + +<p>They had been in strikes before.<a name="page_454" id="page_454"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI<br /><br /> +<small>THE STRIKE</small></h2> + +<p>The barn at which Hurstwood applied was exceedingly short-handed, and +was being operated practically by three men as directors. There were a +lot of green hands around—queer, hungry-looking men, who looked as if +want had driven them to desperate means. They tried to be lively and +willing, but there was an air of hang-dog diffidence about the place.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood went back through the barns and out into a large, enclosed +lot, where were a series of tracks and loops. A half-dozen cars were +there, manned by instructors, each with a pupil at the lever. More +pupils were waiting at one of the rear doors of the barn.</p> + +<p>In silence Hurstwood viewed this scene, and waited. His companions took +his eye for a while, though they did not interest him much more than the +cars. They were an uncomfortable-looking gang, however. One or two were +very thin and lean. Several were quite stout. Several others were +rawboned and sallow, as if they had been beaten upon by all sorts of +rough weather.</p> + +<p>"Did you see by the paper they are going to call out the militia?" +Hurstwood heard one of them remark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll do that," returned the other. "They always do."</p> + +<p>"Think we're liable to have much trouble?" said another, whom Hurstwood +did not see.<a name="page_455" id="page_455"></a></p> + +<p>"Not very."</p> + +<p>"That Scotchman that went out on the last car," put in a voice, "told me +that they hit him in the ear with a cinder."</p> + +<p>A small, nervous laugh accompanied this.</p> + +<p>"One of those fellows on the Fifth Avenue line must have had a hell of a +time, according to the papers," drawled another. "They broke his car +windows and pulled him off into the street 'fore the police could stop +'em."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but there are more police around to-day," was added by another.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood hearkened without much mental comment. These talkers seemed +scared to him. Their gabbling was feverish—things said to quiet their +own minds. He looked out into the yard and waited.</p> + +<p>Two of the men got around quite near him, but behind his back. They were +rather social, and he listened to what they said.</p> + +<p>"Are you a railroad man?" said one.</p> + +<p>"Me? No. I've always worked in a paper factory."</p> + +<p>"I had a job in Newark until last October," returned the other, with +reciprocal feeling.</p> + +<p>There were some words which passed too low to hear. Then the +conversation became strong again.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame these fellers for striking," said one. "They've got the +right of it, all right, but I had to get something to do."</p> + +<p>"Same here," said the other. "If I had any job in Newark I wouldn't be +over here takin' chances like these."</p> + +<p>"It's hell these days, ain't it?" said the man. "A poor man ain't +nowhere. You could starve, by God, right in the streets, and there ain't +most no one would help you."<a name="page_456" id="page_456"></a></p> + +<p>"Right you are," said the other. "The job I had I lost 'cause they shut +down. They run all summer and lay up a big stock, and then shut down."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood paid some little attention to this. Somehow, he felt a little +superior to these two—a little better off. To him these were ignorant +and commonplace, poor sheep in a driver's hand.</p> + +<p>"Poor devils," he thought, speaking out of the thoughts and feelings of +a bygone period of success.</p> + +<p>"Next," said one of the instructors.</p> + +<p>"You're next," said a neighbour, touching him.</p> + +<p>He went out and climbed on the platform. The instructor took it for +granted that no preliminaries were needed.</p> + +<p>"You see this handle," he said, reaching up to an electric cut-off, +which was fastened to the roof. "This throws the current off or on. If +you want to reverse the car you turn it over here. If you want to send +it forward, you put it over here. If you want to cut off the power, you +keep it in the middle."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood smiled at the simple information.</p> + +<p>"Now, this handle here regulates your speed. To here," he said, pointing +with his finger, "gives you about four miles an hour. This is eight. +When it's full on, you make about fourteen miles an hour."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood watched him calmly. He had seen motormen work before. He knew +just about how they did it, and was sure he could do as well, with a +very little practice.</p> + +<p>The instructor explained a few more details, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Now, we'll back her up."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood stood placidly by, while the car rolled back into the yard.</p> + +<p>"One thing you want to be careful about, and that is<a name="page_457" id="page_457"></a> to start easy. +Give one degree time to act before you start another. The one fault of +most men is that they always want to throw her wide open. That's bad. +It's dangerous, too. Wears out the motor. You don't want to do that."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>He waited and waited, while the man talked on.</p> + +<p>"Now you take it," he said, finally.</p> + +<p>The ex-manager laid hand to the lever and pushed it gently, as he +thought. It worked much easier than he imagined, however, with the +result that the car jerked quickly forward, throwing him back against +the door. He straightened up sheepishly, while the instructor stopped +the car with the brake.</p> + +<p>"You want to be careful about that," was all he said.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood found, however, that handling a brake and regulating speed +were not so instantly mastered as he had imagined. Once or twice he +would have ploughed through the rear fence if it had not been for the +hand and word of his companion. The latter was rather patient with him, +but he never smiled.</p> + +<p>"You've got to get the knack of working both arms at once," he said. "It +takes a little practice."</p> + +<p>One o'clock came while he was still on the car practising, and he began +to feel hungry. The day set in snowing, and he was cold. He grew weary +of running to and fro on the short track.</p> + +<p>They ran the car to the end and both got off. Hurstwood went into the +barn and sought a car step, pulling out his paper-wrapped lunch from his +pocket. There was no water and the bread was dry, but he enjoyed it. +There was no ceremony about dining. He swallowed and looked about, +contemplating the dull, homely labour of the thing. It was +disagreeable—miserably<a name="page_458" id="page_458"></a> disagreeable—in all its phases. Not because it +was bitter, but because it was hard. It would be hard to any one, he +thought.</p> + +<p>After eating, he stood about as before, waiting until his turn came.</p> + +<p>The intention was to give him an afternoon of practice, but the greater +part of the time was spent in waiting about.</p> + +<p>At last evening came, and with it hunger and a debate with himself as to +how he should spend the night. It was half-past five. He must soon eat. +If he tried to go home, it would take him two hours and a half of cold +walking and riding. Besides, he had orders to report at seven the next +morning, and going home would necessitate his rising at an unholy and +disagreeable hour. He had only something like a dollar and fifteen cents +of Carrie's money, with which he had intended to pay the two weeks' coal +bill before the present idea struck him.</p> + +<p>"They must have some place around here," he thought. "Where does that +fellow from Newark stay?"</p> + +<p>Finally he decided to ask. There was a young fellow standing near one of +the doors in the cold, waiting a last turn. He was a mere boy in +years—twenty-one about—but with a body lank and long, because of +privation. A little good living would have made this youth plump and +swaggering.</p> + +<p>"How do they arrange this, if a man hasn't any money?" inquired +Hurstwood, discreetly.</p> + +<p>The fellow turned a keen, watchful face on the inquirer.</p> + +<p>"You mean eat?" he replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and sleep. I can't go back to New York to-night."<a name="page_459" id="page_459"></a></p> + +<p>"The foreman 'll fix that if you ask him, I guess. He did me."</p> + +<p>"That so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I just told him I didn't have anything. Gee, I couldn't go home. I +live way over in Hoboken."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood only cleared his throat by way of acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>"They've got a place upstairs here, I understand. I don't know what sort +of a thing it is. Purty tough, I guess. He gave me a meal ticket this +noon. I know that wasn't much."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood smiled grimly, and the boy laughed.</p> + +<p>"It ain't no fun, is it?" he inquired, wishing vainly for a cheery +reply.</p> + +<p>"Not much," answered Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"I'd tackle him now," volunteered the youth. "He may go 'way."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood did so.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there some place I can stay around here to-night?" he inquired. +"If I have to go back to New York, I'm afraid I won't——"</p> + +<p>"There're some cots upstairs," interrupted the man, "if you want one of +them."</p> + +<p>"That'll do," he assented.</p> + +<p>He meant to ask for a meal ticket, but the seemingly proper moment never +came, and he decided to pay himself that night.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask him in the morning."</p> + +<p>He ate in a cheap restaurant in the vicinity, and, being cold and +lonely, went straight off to seek the loft in question. The company was +not attempting to run cars after nightfall. It was so advised by the +police.</p> + +<p>The room seemed to have been a lounging place for night workers. There +were some nine cots in the place, two or three wooden chairs, a soap +box, and a small,<a name="page_460" id="page_460"></a> round-bellied stove, in which a fire was blazing. +Early as he was, another man was there before him. The latter was +sitting beside the stove warming his hands.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood approached and held out his own toward the fire. He was sick +of the bareness and privation of all things connected with his venture, +but was steeling himself to hold out. He fancied he could for a while.</p> + +<p>"Cold, isn't it?" said the early guest.</p> + +<p>"Rather."</p> + +<p>A long silence.</p> + +<p>"Not much of a place to sleep in, is it?" said the man.</p> + +<p>"Better than nothing," replied Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>Another silence.</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll turn in," said the man.</p> + +<p>Rising, he went to one of the cots and stretched himself, removing only +his shoes, and pulling the one blanket and dirty old comforter over him +in a sort of bundle. The sight disgusted Hurstwood, but he did not dwell +on it, choosing to gaze into the stove and think of something else. +Presently he decided to retire, and picked a cot, also removing his +shoes.</p> + +<p>While he was doing so, the youth who had advised him to come here +entered, and, seeing Hurstwood, tried to be genial.</p> + +<p>"Better'n nothin'," he observed, looking around.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood did not take this to himself. He thought it to be an +expression of individual satisfaction, and so did not answer. The youth +imagined he was out of sorts, and set to whistling softly. Seeing +another man asleep, he quit that and lapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood made the best of a bad lot by keeping on his clothes and +pushing away the dirty covering from his head, but at last he dozed in +sheer weariness. The covering became more and more comfortable, its +character<a name="page_461" id="page_461"></a> was forgotten, and he pulled it about his neck and slept.</p> + +<p>In the morning he was aroused out of a pleasant dream by several men +stirring about in the cold, cheerless room. He had been back in Chicago +in fancy, in his own comfortable home. Jessica had been arranging to go +somewhere, and he had been talking with her about it. This was so clear +in his mind, that he was startled now by the contrast of this room. He +raised his head, and the cold, bitter reality jarred him into +wakefulness.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'd better get up," he said.</p> + +<p>There was no water on this floor. He put on his shoes in the cold and +stood up, shaking himself in his stiffness. His clothes felt +disagreeable, his hair bad.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he muttered, as he put on his hat.</p> + +<p>Downstairs things were stirring again.</p> + +<p>He found a hydrant, with a trough which had once been used for horses, +but there was no towel here, and his handkerchief was soiled from +yesterday. He contented himself with wetting his eyes with the ice-cold +water. Then he sought the foreman, who was already on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Had your breakfast yet?" inquired that worthy.</p> + +<p>"No," said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Better get it, then; your car won't be ready for a little while."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Could you let me have a meal ticket?" he asked, with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," said the man, handing him one.</p> + +<p>He breakfasted as poorly as the night before on some fried steak and bad +coffee. Then he went back.</p> + +<p>"Here," said the foreman, motioning him, when he came in. "You take this +car out in a few minutes."<a name="page_462" id="page_462"></a></p> + +<p>Hurstwood climbed up on the platform in the gloomy barn and waited for a +signal. He was nervous, and yet the thing was a relief. Anything was +better than the barn.</p> + +<p>On this the fourth day of the strike, the situation had taken a turn for +the worse. The strikers, following the counsel of their leaders and the +newspapers, had struggled peaceably enough. There had been no great +violence done. Cars had been stopped, it is true, and the men argued +with. Some crews had been won over and led away, some windows broken, +some jeering and yelling done; but in no more than five or six instances +had men been seriously injured. These by crowds whose acts the leaders +disclaimed.</p> + +<p>Idleness, however, and the sight of the company, backed by the police, +triumphing, angered the men. They saw that each day more cars were going +on, each day more declarations were being made by the company officials +that the effective opposition of the strikers was broken. This put +desperate thoughts in the minds of the men. Peaceful methods meant, they +saw, that the companies would soon run all their cars and those who had +complained would be forgotten. There was nothing so helpful to the +companies as peaceful methods.</p> + +<p>All at once they blazed forth, and for a week there was storm and +stress. Cars were assailed, men attacked, policemen struggled with, +tracks torn up, and shots fired, until at last street fights and mob +movements became frequent, and the city was invested with militia.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood knew nothing of the change of temper.</p> + +<p>"Run your car out," called the foreman, waving a vigorous hand at him. A +green conductor jumped up behind and rang the bell twice as a signal to +start.<a name="page_463" id="page_463"></a> Hurstwood turned the lever and ran the car out through the door +into the street in front of the barn. Here two brawny policemen got up +beside him on the platform—one on either hand.</p> + +<p>At the sound of a gong near the barn door, two bells were given by the +conductor and Hurstwood opened his lever.</p> + +<p>The two policemen looked about them calmly.</p> + +<p>"'Tis cold, all right, this morning," said the one on the left, who +possessed a rich brogue.</p> + +<p>"I had enough of it yesterday," said the other. "I wouldn't want a +steady job of this."</p> + +<p>"Nor I."</p> + +<p>Neither paid the slightest attention to Hurstwood, who stood facing the +cold wind, which was chilling him completely, and thinking of his +orders.</p> + +<p>"Keep a steady gait," the foreman had said. "Don't stop for any one who +doesn't look like a real passenger. Whatever you do, don't stop for a +crowd."</p> + +<p>The two officers kept silent for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"The last man must have gone through all right," said the officer on the +left. "I don't see his car anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Who's on there?" asked the second officer, referring, of course, to its +complement of policemen.</p> + +<p>"Schaeffer and Ryan."</p> + +<p>There was another silence, in which the car ran smoothly along. There +were not so many houses along this part of the way. Hurstwood did not +see many people either. The situation was not wholly disagreeable to +him. If he were not so cold, he thought he would do well enough.</p> + +<p>He was brought out of this feeling by the sudden appearance of a curve +ahead, which he had not expected. He shut off the current and did an +energetic turn at the<a name="page_464" id="page_464"></a> brake, but not in time to avoid an unnaturally +quick turn. It shook him up and made him feel like making some +apologetic remarks, but he refrained.</p> + +<p>"You want to look out for them things," said the officer on the left, +condescendingly.</p> + +<p>"That's right," agreed Hurstwood, shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"There's lots of them on this line," said the officer on the right.</p> + +<p>Around the corner a more populated way appeared. One or two pedestrians +were in view ahead. A boy coming out of a gate with a tin milk bucket +gave Hurstwood his first objectionable greeting.</p> + +<p>"Scab!" he yelled. "Scab!"</p> + +<p>Hurstwood heard it, but tried to make no comment, even to himself. He +knew he would get that, and much more of the same sort, probably.</p> + +<p>At a corner farther up a man stood by the track and signalled the car to +stop.</p> + +<p>"Never mind him," said one of the officers. "He's up to some game."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood obeyed. At the corner he saw the wisdom of it. No sooner did +the man perceive the intention to ignore him, than he shook his fist.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you bloody coward!" he yelled.</p> + +<p>Some half dozen men, standing on the corner, flung taunts and jeers +after the speeding car.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood winced the least bit. The real thing was slightly worse than +the thoughts of it had been.</p> + +<p>Now came in sight, three or four blocks farther on, a heap of something +on the track.</p> + +<p>"They've been at work, here, all right," said one of the policemen.</p> + +<p>"We'll have an argument, maybe," said the other.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood ran the car close and stopped. He had not done so wholly, +however, before a crowd gathered<a name="page_465" id="page_465"></a> about. It was composed of ex-motormen +and conductors in part, with a sprinkling of friends and sympathisers.</p> + +<p>"Come off the car, pardner," said one of the men in a voice meant to be +conciliatory. "You don't want to take the bread out of another man's +mouth, do you?"</p> + +<p>Hurstwood held to his brake and lever, pale and very uncertain what to +do.</p> + +<p>"Stand back," yelled one of the officers, leaning over the platform +railing. "Clear out of this, now. Give the man a chance to do his work."</p> + +<p>"Listen, pardner," said the leader, ignoring the policeman and +addressing Hurstwood. "We're all working men, like yourself. If you were +a regular motorman, and had been treated as we've been, you wouldn't +want any one to come in and take your place, would you? You wouldn't +want any one to do you out of your chance to get your rights, would +you?"</p> + +<p>"Shut her off! shut her off!" urged the other of the policemen, roughly. +"Get out of this, now," and he jumped the railing and landed before the +crowd and began shoving. Instantly the other officer was down beside +him.</p> + +<p>"Stand back, now," they yelled. "Get out of this. What the hell do you +mean? Out, now."</p> + +<p>It was like a small swarm of bees.</p> + +<p>"Don't shove me," said one of the strikers, determinedly. "I'm not doing +anything."</p> + +<p>"Get out of this!" cried the officer, swinging his club. "I'll give ye a +bat on the sconce. Back, now."</p> + +<p>"What the hell!" cried another of the strikers, pushing the other way, +adding at the same time some lusty oaths.</p> + +<p>Crack came an officer's club on his forehead. He blinked his eyes +blindly a few times, wabbled on his<a name="page_466" id="page_466"></a> legs, threw up his hands, and +staggered back. In return, a swift fist landed on the officer's neck.</p> + +<p>Infuriated by this, the latter plunged left and right, laying about +madly with his club. He was ably assisted by his brother of the blue, +who poured ponderous oaths upon the troubled waters. No severe damage +was done, owing to the agility of the strikers in keeping out of reach. +They stood about the sidewalk now and jeered.</p> + +<p>"Where is the conductor?" yelled one of the officers, getting his eye on +that individual, who had come nervously forward to stand by Hurstwood. +The latter had stood gazing upon the scene with more astonishment than +fear.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come down here and get these stones off the track?" +inquired the officer. "What you standing there for? Do you want to stay +here all day? Get down."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood breathed heavily in excitement and jumped down with the +nervous conductor as if he had been called.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up, now," said the other policeman.</p> + +<p>Cold as it was, these officers were hot and mad. Hurstwood worked with +the conductor, lifting stone after stone and warming himself by the +work.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you scab, you!" yelled the crowd. "You coward! Steal a man's job, +will you? Rob the poor, will you, you thief? We'll get you yet, now. +Wait."</p> + +<p>Not all of this was delivered by one man. It came from here and there, +incorporated with much more of the same sort and curses.</p> + +<p>"Work, you blackguards," yelled a voice. "Do the dirty work. You're the +suckers that keep the poor people down!"</p> + +<p>"May God starve ye yet," yelled an old Irish woman,<a name="page_467" id="page_467"></a> who now threw open +a nearby window and stuck out her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you," she added, catching the eye of one of the policemen. +"You bloody, murtherin' thafe! Crack my son over the head, will you, you +hard-hearted, murtherin' divil? Ah, ye——"</p> + +<p>But the officer turned a deaf ear.</p> + +<p>"Go to the devil, you old hag," he half muttered as he stared round upon +the scattered company.</p> + +<p>Now the stones were off, and Hurstwood took his place again amid a +continued chorus of epithets. Both officers got up beside him and the +conductor rang the bell, when, bang! bang! through window and door came +rocks and stones. One narrowly grazed Hurstwood's head. Another +shattered the window behind.</p> + +<p>"Throw open your lever," yelled one of the officers, grabbing at the +handle himself.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood complied and the car shot away, followed by a rattle of stones +and a rain of curses.</p> + +<p>"That— — — —— hit me in the neck," said one of the officers. "I gave +him a good crack for it, though."</p> + +<p>"I think I must have left spots on some of them," said the other.</p> + +<p>"I know that big guy that called us a— — — ——," said the first. "I'll +get him yet for that."</p> + +<p>"I thought we were in for it sure, once there," said the second.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood, warmed and excited, gazed steadily ahead. It was an +astonishing experience for him. He had read of these things, but the +reality seemed something altogether new. He was no coward in spirit. The +fact that he had suffered this much now rather operated to arouse a +stolid determination to stick it out. He did not recur in thought to New +York or the flat. This one trip seemed a consuming thing.<a name="page_468" id="page_468"></a></p> + +<p>They now ran into the business heart of Brooklyn uninterrupted. People +gazed at the broken windows of the car and at Hurstwood in his plain +clothes. Voices called "scab" now and then, as well as other epithets, +but no crowd attacked the car. At the down-town end of the line, one of +the officers went to call up his station and report the trouble.</p> + +<p>"There's a gang out there," he said, "laying for us yet. Better send +some one over there and clean them out."</p> + +<p>The car ran back more quietly—hooted, watched, flung at, but not +attacked. Hurstwood breathed freely when he saw the barns.</p> + +<p>"Well," he observed to himself, "I came out of that all right."</p> + +<p>The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf a while, but later he +was again called. This time a new team of officers was aboard. Slightly +more confident, he sped the car along the commonplace streets and felt +somewhat less fearful. On one side, however, he suffered intensely. The +day was raw, with a sprinkling of snow and a gusty wind, made all the +more intolerable by the speed of the car. His clothing was not intended +for this sort of work. He shivered, stamped his feet, and beat his arms +as he had seen other motormen do in the past, but said nothing. The +novelty and danger of the situation modified in a way his disgust and +distress at being compelled to be here, but not enough to prevent him +from feeling grim and sour. This was a dog's life, he thought. It was a +tough thing to have to come to.</p> + +<p>The one thought that strengthened him was the insult offered by Carrie. +He was not down so low as to take all that, he thought. He could do +something—this, even—for a while. It would get better. He would save a +little.</p> + +<p>A boy threw a clod of mud while he was thus reflecting<a name="page_469" id="page_469"></a> and hit him upon +the arm. It hurt sharply and angered him more than he had been any time +since morning.</p> + +<p>"The little cur!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Hurt you?" asked one of the policemen.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered.</p> + +<p>At one of the corners, where the car slowed up because of a turn, an +ex-motorman, standing on the sidewalk, called to him:</p> + +<p>"Won't you come out, pardner, and be a man? Remember we're fighting for +decent day's wages, that's all. We've got families to support." The man +seemed most peaceably inclined.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood pretended not to see him. He kept his eyes straight on before +and opened the lever wide. The voice had something appealing in it.</p> + +<p>All morning this went on and long into the afternoon. He made three such +trips. The dinner he had was no stay for such work and the cold was +telling on him. At each end of the line he stopped to thaw out, but he +could have groaned at the anguish of it. One of the barnmen, out of +pity, loaned him a heavy cap and a pair of sheepskin gloves, and for +once he was extremely thankful.</p> + +<p>On the second trip of the afternoon he ran into a crowd about half way +along the line, that had blocked the car's progress with an old +telegraph pole.</p> + +<p>"Get that thing off the track," shouted the two policemen.</p> + +<p>"Yah, yah, yah!" yelled the crowd. "Get it off yourself."</p> + +<p>The two policemen got down and Hurstwood started to follow.</p> + +<p>"You stay there," one called. "Some one will run away with your car."<a name="page_470" id="page_470"></a></p> + +<p>Amid the babel of voices, Hurstwood heard one close beside him.</p> + +<p>"Come down, pardner, and be a man. Don't fight the poor. Leave that to +the corporations."</p> + +<p>He saw the same fellow who had called to him from the corner. Now, as +before, he pretended not to hear him.</p> + +<p>"Come down," the man repeated gently. "You don't want to fight poor men. +Don't fight at all." It was a most philosophic and jesuitical motorman.</p> + +<p>A third policeman joined the other two from somewhere and some one ran +to telephone for more officers. Hurstwood gazed about, determined but +fearful.</p> + +<p>A man grabbed him by the coat.</p> + +<p>"Come off of that," he exclaimed, jerking at him and trying to pull him +over the railing.</p> + +<p>"Let go," said Hurstwood, savagely.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you—you scab!" cried a young Irishman, jumping up on the car +and aiming a blow at Hurstwood. The latter ducked and caught it on the +shoulder instead of the jaw.</p> + +<p>"Away from here," shouted an officer, hastening to the rescue, and +adding, of course, the usual oaths.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood recovered himself, pale and trembling. It was becoming serious +with him now. People were looking up and jeering at him. One girl was +making faces.</p> + +<p>He began to waver in his resolution, when a patrol wagon rolled up and +more officers dismounted. Now the track was quickly cleared and the +release effected.</p> + +<p>"Let her go now, quick," said the officer, and again he was off.</p> + +<p>The end came with a real mob, which met the car on its return trip a +mile or two from the barns. It was an exceedingly poor-looking +neighbourhood. He<a name="page_471" id="page_471"></a> wanted to run fast through it, but again the track +was blocked. He saw men carrying something out to it when he was yet a +half-dozen blocks away.</p> + +<p>"There they are again!" exclaimed one policeman.</p> + +<p>"I'll give them something this time," said the second officer, whose +patience was becoming worn. Hurstwood suffered a qualm of body as the +car rolled up. As before, the crowd began hooting, but now, rather than +come near, they threw things. One or two windows were smashed and +Hurstwood dodged a stone.</p> + +<p>Both policemen ran out toward the crowd, but the latter replied by +running toward the car. A woman—a mere girl in appearance—was among +these, bearing a rough stick. She was exceedingly wrathful and struck at +Hurstwood, who dodged. Thereupon, her companions, duly encouraged, +jumped on the car and pulled Hurstwood over. He had hardly time to speak +or shout before he fell.</p> + +<p>"Let go of me," he said, falling on his side.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you sucker," he heard some one say. Kicks and blows rained on him. +He seemed to be suffocating. Then two men seemed to be dragging him off +and he wrestled for freedom.</p> + +<p>"Let up," said a voice, "you're all right. Stand up."</p> + +<p>He was let loose and recovered himself. Now he recognised two officers. +He felt as if he would faint from exhaustion. Something was wet on his +chin. He put up his hand and felt, then looked. It was red.</p> + +<p>"They cut me," he said, foolishly, fishing for his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Now, now," said one of the officers. "It's only a scratch."</p> + +<p>His senses became cleared now and he looked around. He was standing in a +little store, where they left him for the moment. Outside, he could see, +as he stood<a name="page_472" id="page_472"></a> wiping his chin, the car and the excited crowd. A patrol +wagon was there, and another.</p> + +<p>He walked over and looked out. It was an ambulance, backing in.</p> + +<p>He saw some energetic charging by the police and arrests being made.</p> + +<p>"Come on, now, if you want to take your car," said an officer, opening +the door and looking in.</p> + +<p>He walked out, feeling rather uncertain of himself. He was very cold and +frightened.</p> + +<p>"Where's the conductor?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's not here now," said the policeman.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood went toward the car and stepped nervously on. As he did so +there was a pistol shot. Something stung his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Who fired that?" he heard an officer exclaim. "By God! who did that?" +Both left him, running toward a certain building. He paused a moment and +then got down.</p> + +<p>"George!" exclaimed Hurstwood, weakly, "this is too much for me."</p> + +<p>He walked nervously to the corner and hurried down a side street.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he said, drawing in his breath.</p> + +<p>A half block away, a small girl gazed at him.</p> + +<p>"You'd better sneak," she called.</p> + +<p>He walked homeward in a blinding snowstorm, reaching the ferry by dusk. +The cabins were filled with comfortable souls, who studied him +curiously. His head was still in such a whirl that he felt confused. All +the wonder of the twinkling lights of the river in a white storm passed +for nothing. He trudged doggedly on until he reached the flat. There he +entered and found the room warm. Carrie was gone. A couple of evening +papers were lying on the table where she left them. He<a name="page_473" id="page_473"></a> lit the gas and +sat down. Then he got up and stripped to examine his shoulder. It was a +mere scratch. He washed his hands and face, still in a brown study, +apparently, and combed his hair. Then he looked for something to eat, +and finally, his hunger gone, sat down in his comfortable rocking-chair. +It was a wonderful relief.</p> + +<p>He put his hand to his chin, forgetting, for the moment, the papers.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, after a time, his nature recovering itself, "that's a +pretty tough game over there."</p> + +<p>Then he turned and saw the papers. With half a sigh he picked up the +"World."</p> + +<p>"Strike Spreading in Brooklyn," he read. "Rioting Breaks Out in all +Parts of the City."</p> + +<p>He adjusted his paper very comfortably and continued. It was the one +thing he read with absorbing interest.<a name="page_474" id="page_474"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII<br /><br /> +<small>A TOUCH OF SPRING: THE EMPTY SHELL</small></h2> + +<p>Those who look upon Hurstwood's Brooklyn venture as an error of judgment +will none the less realise the negative influence on him of the fact +that he had tried and failed. Carrie got a wrong idea of it. He said so +little that she imagined he had encountered nothing worse than the +ordinary roughness—quitting so soon in the face of this seemed +trifling. He did not want to work.</p> + +<p>She was now one of a group of oriental beauties who, in the second act +of the comic opera, were paraded by the vizier before the new potentate +as the treasures of his harem. There was no word assigned to any of +them, but on the evening when Hurstwood was housing himself in the loft +of the street-car barn, the leading comedian and star, feeling +exceedingly facetious, said in a profound voice, which created a ripple +of laughter:</p> + +<p>"Well, who are you?"</p> + +<p>It merely happened to be Carrie who was courtesying before him. It might +as well have been any of the others, so far as he was concerned. He +expected no answer and a dull one would have been reproved. But Carrie, +whose experience and belief in herself gave her daring, courtesied +sweetly again and answered:</p> + +<p>"I am yours truly."</p> + +<p>It was a trivial thing to say, and yet something in<a name="page_475" id="page_475"></a> the way she did it +caught the audience, which laughed heartily at the mock-fierce potentate +towering before the young woman. The comedian also liked it, hearing the +laughter.</p> + +<p>"I thought your name was Smith," he returned, endeavouring to get the +last laugh.</p> + +<p>Carrie almost trembled for her daring after she had said this. All +members of the company had been warned that to interpolate lines or +"business" meant a fine or worse. She did not know what to think.</p> + +<p>As she was standing in her proper position in the wings, awaiting +another entry, the great comedian made his exit past her and paused in +recognition.</p> + +<p>"You can just leave that in hereafter," he remarked, seeing how +intelligent she appeared. "Don't add any more, though."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Carrie, humbly. When he went on she found herself +trembling violently.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're in luck," remarked another member of the chorus. "There +isn't another one of us has got a line."</p> + +<p>There was no gainsaying the value of this. Everybody in the company +realised that she had got a start. Carrie hugged herself when next +evening the lines got the same applause. She went home rejoicing, +knowing that soon something must come of it. It was Hurstwood who, by +his presence, caused her merry thoughts to flee and replaced them with +sharp longings for an end of distress.</p> + +<p>The next day she asked him about his venture.</p> + +<p>"They're not trying to run any cars except with police. They don't want +anybody just now—not before next week."</p> + +<p>Next week came, but Carrie saw no change. Hurstwood seemed more +apathetic than ever. He saw her<a name="page_476" id="page_476"></a> off mornings to rehearsals and the like +with the utmost calm. He read and read. Several times he found himself +staring at an item, but thinking of something else. The first of these +lapses that he sharply noticed concerned a hilarious party he had once +attended at a driving club, of which he had been a member. He sat, +gazing downward, and gradually thought he heard the old voices and the +clink of glasses.</p> + +<p>"You're a dandy, Hurstwood," his friend Walker said. He was standing +again well dressed, smiling, good-natured, the recipient of encores for +a good story.</p> + +<p>All at once he looked up. The room was so still it seemed ghostlike. He +heard the clock ticking audibly and half suspected that he had been +dozing. The paper was so straight in his hands, however, and the items +he had been reading so directly before him, that he rid himself of the +doze idea. Still, it seemed peculiar. When it occurred a second time, +however, it did not seem quite so strange.</p> + +<p>Butcher and grocery man, baker and coal man—not the group with whom he +was then dealing, but those who had trusted him to the limit—called. He +met them all blandly, becoming deft in excuse. At last he became bold, +pretended to be out, or waved them off.</p> + +<p>"They can't get blood out of a turnip," he said. "If I had it I'd pay +them."</p> + +<p>Carrie's little soldier friend, Miss Osborne, seeing her succeeding, had +become a sort of satellite. Little Osborne could never of herself amount +to anything. She seemed to realise it in a sort of pussy-like way and +instinctively concluded to cling with her soft little claws to Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll get up," she kept telling Carrie with admiration. "You're so +good."</p> + +<p>Timid as Carrie was, she was strong in capability.<a name="page_477" id="page_477"></a> The reliance of +others made her feel as if she must, and when she must she dared. +Experience of the world and of necessity was in her favour. No longer +the lightest word of a man made her head dizzy. She had learned that men +could change and fail. Flattery in its most palpable form had lost its +force with her. It required superiority—kindly superiority—to move +her—the superiority of a genius like Ames.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the actors in our company," she told Lola one day. +"They're all so struck on themselves."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think Mr. Barclay's pretty nice?" inquired Lola, who had +received a condescending smile or two from that quarter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's nice enough," answered Carrie; "but he isn't sincere. He +assumes such an air."</p> + +<p>Lola felt for her first hold upon Carrie in the following manner:</p> + +<p>"Are you paying room-rent where you are?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Carrie. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"I know where I could get the loveliest room and bath, cheap. It's too +big for me, but it would be just right for two, and the rent is only six +dollars a week for both."</p> + +<p>"Where?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"In Seventeenth Street."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know as I'd care to change," said Carrie, who was already +turning over the three-dollar rate in her mind. She was thinking if she +had only herself to support this would leave her seventeen for herself.</p> + +<p>Nothing came of this until after the Brooklyn adventure of Hurstwood's +and her success with the speaking part. Then she began to feel as if she +must be free. She thought of leaving Hurstwood and thus making him act +for himself, but he had developed such<a name="page_478" id="page_478"></a> peculiar traits she feared he +might resist any effort to throw him off. He might hunt her out at the +show and hound her in that way. She did not wholly believe that he +would, but he might. This, she knew, would be an embarrassing thing if +he made himself conspicuous in any way. It troubled her greatly.</p> + +<p>Things were precipitated by the offer of a better part. One of the +actresses playing the part of a modest sweetheart gave notice of leaving +and Carrie was selected.</p> + +<p>"How much are you going to get?" asked Miss Osborne, on hearing the good +news.</p> + +<p>"I didn't ask him," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, find out. Goodness, you'll never get anything if you don't ask. +Tell them you must have forty dollars, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" exclaimed Lola. "Ask 'em, anyway."</p> + +<p>Carrie succumbed to this prompting, waiting, however, until the manager +gave her notice of what clothing she must have to fit the part.</p> + +<p>"How much do I get?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five dollars," he replied.</p> + +<p>Carrie was too much astonished and delighted to think of mentioning +forty. She was nearly beside herself, and almost hugged Lola, who clung +to her at the news.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as much as you ought to get," said the latter, "especially +when you've got to buy clothes."</p> + +<p>Carrie remembered this with a start. Where to get the money? She had +none laid up for such an emergency. Rent day was drawing near.</p> + +<p>"I'll not do it," she said, remembering her necessity. "I don't use the +flat. I'm not going to give up my money this time. I'll move."<a name="page_479" id="page_479"></a></p> + +<p>Fitting into this came another appeal from Miss Osborne, more urgent +than ever.</p> + +<p>"Come live with me, won't you?" she pleaded. "We can have the loveliest +room. It won't cost you hardly anything that way."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to," said Carrie, frankly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do," said Lola. "We'll have such a good time."</p> + +<p>Carrie thought a while.</p> + +<p>"I believe I will," she said, and then added: "I'll have to see first, +though."</p> + +<p>With the idea thus grounded, rent day approaching, and clothes calling +for instant purchase, she soon found excuse in Hurstwood's lassitude. He +said less and drooped more than ever.</p> + +<p>As rent day approached, an idea grew in him. It was fostered by the +demands of creditors and the impossibility of holding up many more. +Twenty-eight dollars was too much for rent. "It's hard on her," he +thought. "We could get a cheaper place."</p> + +<p>Stirred with this idea, he spoke at the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think we pay too much rent here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do," said Carrie, not catching his drift.</p> + +<p>"I should think we could get a smaller place," he suggested. "We don't +need four rooms."</p> + +<p>Her countenance, had he been scrutinising her, would have exhibited the +disturbance she felt at this evidence of his determination to stay by +her. He saw nothing remarkable in asking her to come down lower.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," she answered, growing wary.</p> + +<p>"There must be places around here where we could get a couple of rooms, +which would do just as well."<a name="page_480" id="page_480"></a></p> + +<p>Her heart revolted. "Never!" she thought. Who would furnish the money to +move? To think of being in two rooms with him! She resolved to spend her +money for clothes quickly, before something terrible happened. That very +day she did it. Having done so, there was but one other thing to do.</p> + +<p>"Lola," she said, visiting her friend, "I think I'll come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, jolly!" cried the latter.</p> + +<p>"Can we get it right away?" she asked, meaning the room.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," cried Lola.</p> + +<p>They went to look at it. Carrie had saved ten dollars from her +expenditures—enough for this and her board beside. Her enlarged salary +would not begin for ten days yet—would not reach her for seventeen. She +paid half of the six dollars with her friend.</p> + +<p>"Now, I've just enough to get on to the end of the week," she confided.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've got some," said Lola. "I've got twenty-five dollars, if you +need it."</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie. "I guess I'll get along."</p> + +<p>They decided to move Friday, which was two days away. Now that the thing +was settled, Carrie's heart misgave her. She felt very much like a +criminal in the matter. Each day looking at Hurstwood, she had realised +that, along with the disagreeableness of his attitude, there was +something pathetic.</p> + +<p>She looked at him the same evening she had made up her mind to go, and +now he seemed not so shiftless and worthless, but run down and beaten +upon by chance. His eyes were not keen, his face marked, his hands +flabby. She thought his hair had a touch of grey. All unconscious of his +doom, he rocked and read his paper, while she glanced at him.<a name="page_481" id="page_481"></a></p> + +<p>Knowing that the end was so near, she became rather solicitous.</p> + +<p>"Will you go over and get some canned peaches?" she asked Hurstwood, +laying down a two-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said, looking in wonder at the money.</p> + +<p>"See if you can get some nice asparagus," she added. "I'll cook it for +dinner."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood rose and took the money, slipping on his overcoat and getting +his hat. Carrie noticed that both of these articles of apparel were old +and poor looking in appearance. It was plain enough before, but now it +came home with peculiar force. Perhaps he couldn't help it, after all. +He had done well in Chicago. She remembered his fine appearance the days +he had met her in the park. Then he was so sprightly, so clean. Had it +been all his fault?</p> + +<p>He came back and laid the change down with the food.</p> + +<p>"You'd better keep it," she observed. "We'll need other things."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, with a sort of pride; "you keep it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, go on and keep it," she replied, rather unnerved. "There'll be +other things."</p> + +<p>He wondered at this, not knowing the pathetic figure he had become in +her eyes. She restrained herself with difficulty from showing a quaver +in her voice.</p> + +<p>To say truly, this would have been Carrie's attitude in any case. She +had looked back at times upon her parting from Drouet and had regretted +that she had served him so badly. She hoped she would never meet him +again, but she was ashamed of her conduct. Not that she had any choice +in the final separation. She had gone willingly to seek him, with +sympathy in her heart, when Hurstwood had reported him ill. There<a name="page_482" id="page_482"></a> was +something cruel somewhere, and not being able to track it mentally to +its logical lair, she concluded with feeling that he would never +understand what Hurstwood had done and would see hard-hearted decision +in her deed; hence her shame. Not that she cared for him. She did not +want to make any one who had been good to her feel badly.</p> + +<p>She did not realise what she was doing by allowing these feelings to +possess her. Hurstwood, noticing the kindness, conceived better of her. +"Carrie's good-natured, anyhow," he thought.</p> + +<p>Going to Miss Osborne's that afternoon, she found that little lady +packing and singing.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come over with me to-day?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," said Carrie. "I'll be there Friday. Would you mind +lending me the twenty-five dollars you spoke of?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said Lola, going for her purse.</p> + +<p>"I want to get some other things," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," answered the little girl, good-naturedly, glad +to be of service.</p> + +<p>It had been days since Hurstwood had done more than go to the grocery or +to the news-stand. Now the weariness of indoors was upon him—had been +for two days—but chill, grey weather had held him back. Friday broke +fair and warm. It was one of those lovely harbingers of spring, given as +a sign in dreary winter that earth is not forsaken of warmth and beauty. +The blue heaven, holding its one golden orb, poured down a crystal wash +of warm light. It was plain, from the voice of the sparrows, that all +was halcyon outside. Carrie raised the front windows, and felt the south +wind blowing.</p> + +<p>"It's lovely out to-day," she remarked.<a name="page_483" id="page_483"></a></p> + +<p>"Is it?" said Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>After breakfast, he immediately got his other clothes.</p> + +<p>"Will you be back for lunch?" asked Carrie, nervously.</p> + +<p>"No," he said.</p> + +<p>He went out into the streets and tramped north, along Seventh Avenue, +idly fixing upon the Harlem River as an objective point. He had seen +some ships up there, the time he had called upon the brewers. He +wondered how the territory thereabouts was growing.</p> + +<p>Passing Fifty-ninth Street, he took the west side of Central Park, which +he followed to Seventy-eighth Street. Then he remembered the +neighbourhood and turned over to look at the mass of buildings erected. +It was very much improved. The great open spaces were filling up. Coming +back, he kept to the Park until 110th Street, and then turned into +Seventh Avenue again, reaching the pretty river by one o'clock.</p> + +<p>There it ran winding before his gaze, shining brightly in the clear +light, between the undulating banks on the right and the tall, +tree-covered heights on the left. The spring-like atmosphere woke him to +a sense of its loveliness, and for a few moments he stood looking at it, +folding his hands behind his back. Then he turned and followed it toward +the east side, idly seeking the ships he had seen. It was four o'clock +before the waning day, with its suggestion of a cooler evening, caused +him to return. He was hungry and would enjoy eating in the warm room.</p> + +<p>When he reached the flat by half-past five, it was still dark. He knew +that Carrie was not there, not only because there was no light showing +through the transom, but because the evening papers were stuck between +the outside knob and the door. He opened with his key and went in. +Everything was still dark. Lighting<a name="page_484" id="page_484"></a> the gas, he sat down, preparing to +wait a little while. Even if Carrie did come now, dinner would be late. +He read until six, then got up to fix something for himself.</p> + +<p>As he did so, he noticed that the room seemed a little queer. What was +it? He looked around, as if he missed something, and then saw an +envelope near where he had been sitting. It spoke for itself, almost +without further action on his part.</p> + +<p>Reaching over, he took it, a sort of chill settling upon him even while +he reached. The crackle of the envelope in his hands was loud. Green +paper money lay soft within the note.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear George," he read, crunching the money in one hand. "I'm going +away. I'm not coming back any more. It's no use trying to keep up +the flat; I can't do it. I wouldn't mind helping you, if I could, +but I can't support us both, and pay the rent. I need what little I +make to pay for my clothes. I'm leaving twenty dollars. It's all I +have just now. You can do whatever you like with the furniture. I +won't want it.—C<small>ARRIE</small>."</p></div> + +<p>He dropped the note and looked quietly round. Now he knew what he +missed. It was the little ornamental clock, which was hers. It had gone +from the mantelpiece. He went into the front room, his bedroom, the +parlour, lighting the gas as he went. From the chiffonier had gone the +knick-knacks of silver and plate. From the table-top, the lace +coverings. He opened the wardrobe—no clothes of hers. He opened the +drawers—nothing of hers. Her trunk was gone from its accustomed place. +Back in his own room hung his old clothes, just as he had left them. +Nothing else was gone.</p> + +<p>He stepped into the parlour and stood for a few moments looking vacantly +at the floor. The silence grew<a name="page_485" id="page_485"></a> oppressive. The little flat seemed +wonderfully deserted. He wholly forgot that he was hungry, that it was +only dinner-time. It seemed later in the night.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, he found that the money was still in his hands. There were +twenty dollars in all, as she had said. Now he walked back, leaving the +lights ablaze, and feeling as if the flat were empty.</p> + +<p>"I'll get out of this," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>Then the sheer loneliness of his situation rushed upon him in full.</p> + +<p>"Left me!" he muttered, and repeated, "left me!"</p> + +<p>The place that had been so comfortable, where he had spent so many days +of warmth, was now a memory. Something colder and chillier confronted +him. He sank down in his chair, resting his chin in his hand—mere +sensation, without thought, holding him.</p> + +<p>Then something like a bereaved affection and self-pity swept over him.</p> + +<p>"She needn't have gone away," he said. "I'd have got something."</p> + +<p>He sat a long while without rocking, and added quite clearly, out loud:</p> + +<p>"I tried, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>At midnight he was still rocking, staring at the floor.<a name="page_486" id="page_486"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII<br /><br /> +<small>THE WORLD TURNS FLATTERER: AN EYE IN THE DARK</small></h2> + +<p>Installed in her comfortable room, Carrie wondered how Hurstwood had +taken her departure. She arranged a few things hastily and then left for +the theatre, half expecting to encounter him at the door. Not finding +him, her dread lifted, and she felt more kindly toward him. She quite +forgot him until about to come out, after the show, when the chance of +his being there frightened her. As day after day passed and she heard +nothing at all, the thought of being bothered by him passed. In a little +while she was, except for occasional thoughts, wholly free of the gloom +with which her life had been weighed in the flat.</p> + +<p>It is curious to note how quickly a profession absorbs one. Carrie +became wise in theatrical lore, hearing the gossip of little Lola. She +learned what the theatrical papers were, which ones published items +about actresses and the like. She began to read the newspaper notices, +not only of the opera in which she had so small a part, but of others. +Gradually the desire for notice took hold of her. She longed to be +renowned like others, and read with avidity all the complimentary or +critical comments made concerning others high in her profession. The +showy world in which her interest lay completely absorbed her.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that the newspapers and magazines were beginning +to pay that illustrative attention<a name="page_487" id="page_487"></a> to the beauties of the stage which +has since become fervid. The newspapers, and particularly the Sunday +newspapers, indulged in large decorative theatrical pages, in which the +faces and forms of well-known theatrical celebrities appeared, enclosed +with artistic scrolls. The magazines also—or at least one or two of the +newer ones—published occasional portraits of pretty stars, and now and +again photos of scenes from various plays. Carrie watched these with +growing interest. When would a scene from her opera appear? When would +some paper think her photo worth while?</p> + +<p>The Sunday before taking her new part she scanned the theatrical pages +for some little notice. It would have accorded with her expectations if +nothing had been said, but there in the squibs, tailing off several more +substantial items, was a wee notice. Carrie read it with a tingling +body:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The part of Katisha, the country maid, in 'The Wives of Abdul' at +the Broadway, heretofore played by Inez Carew, will be hereafter +filled by Carrie Madenda, one of the cleverest members of the +chorus."</p></div> + +<p>Carrie hugged herself with delight. Oh, wasn't it just fine! At last! +The first, the long-hoped for, the delightful notice! And they called +her clever. She could hardly restrain herself from laughing loudly. Had +Lola seen it?</p> + +<p>"They've got a notice here of the part I'm going to play to-morrow +night," said Carrie to her friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, jolly! Have they?" cried Lola, running to her. "That's all right," +she said, looking. "You'll get more now, if you do well. I had my +picture in the 'World' once."</p> + +<p>"Did you?" asked Carrie.<a name="page_488" id="page_488"></a></p> + +<p>"Did I? Well, I should say," returned the little girl. "They had a frame +around it."</p> + +<p>Carrie laughed.</p> + +<p>"They've never published my picture."</p> + +<p>"But they will," said Lola. "You'll see. You do better than most that +get theirs in now."</p> + +<p>Carrie felt deeply grateful for this. She almost loved Lola for the +sympathy and praise she extended. It was so helpful to her—so almost +necessary.</p> + +<p>Fulfilling her part capably brought another notice in the papers that +she was doing her work acceptably. This pleased her immensely. She began +to think the world was taking note of her.</p> + +<p>The first week she got her thirty-five dollars, it seemed an enormous +sum. Paying only three dollars for room rent seemed ridiculous. After +giving Lola her twenty-five, she still had seven dollars left. With four +left over from previous earnings, she had eleven. Five of this went to +pay the regular installment on the clothes she had to buy. The next week +she was even in greater feather. Now, only three dollars need be paid +for room rent and five on her clothes. The rest she had for food and her +own whims.</p> + +<p>"You'd better save a little for summer," cautioned Lola. "We'll probably +close in May."</p> + +<p>"I intend to," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>The regular entrance of thirty-five dollars a week to one who has +endured scant allowances for several years is a demoralising thing. +Carrie found her purse bursting with good green bills of comfortable +denominations. Having no one dependent upon her, she began to buy pretty +clothes and pleasing trinkets, to eat well, and to ornament her room. +Friends were not long in gathering about. She met a few young men who +belonged to Lola's staff. The members of the opera<a name="page_489" id="page_489"></a> company made her +acquaintance without the formality of introduction. One of these +discovered a fancy for her. On several occasions he strolled home with +her.</p> + +<p>"Let's stop in and have a rarebit," he suggested one midnight.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>In the rosy restaurant, filled with the merry lovers of late hours, she +found herself criticising this man. He was too stilted, too +self-opinionated. He did not talk of anything that lifted her above the +common run of clothes and material success. When it was all over, he +smiled most graciously.</p> + +<p>"Got to go straight home, have you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, with an air of quiet understanding.</p> + +<p>"She's not so inexperienced as she looks," he thought, and thereafter +his respect and ardour were increased.</p> + +<p>She could not help sharing in Lola's love for a good time. There were +days when they went carriage riding, nights when after the show they +dined, afternoons when they strolled along Broadway, tastefully dressed. +She was getting in the metropolitan whirl of pleasure.</p> + +<p>At last her picture appeared in one of the weeklies. She had not known +of it, and it took her breath. "Miss Carrie Madenda," it was labelled. +"One of the favourites of 'The Wives of Abdul' company." At Lola's +advice she had had some pictures taken by Sarony. They had got one +there. She thought of going down and buying a few copies of the paper, +but remembered that there was no one she knew well enough to send them +to. Only Lola, apparently, in all the world was interested.</p> + +<p>The metropolis is a cold place socially, and Carrie soon found that a +little money brought her nothing.<a name="page_490" id="page_490"></a> The world of wealth and distinction +was quite as far away as ever. She could feel that there was no warm, +sympathetic friendship back of the easy merriment with which many +approached her. All seemed to be seeking their own amusement, regardless +of the possible sad consequence to others. So much for the lessons of +Hurstwood and Drouet.</p> + +<p>In April she learned that the opera would probably last until the middle +or the end of May, according to the size of the audiences. Next season +it would go on the road. She wondered if she would be with it. As usual, +Miss Osborne, owing to her moderate salary, was for securing a home +engagement.</p> + +<p>"They're putting on a summer play at the Casino," she announced, after +figuratively putting her ear to the ground. "Let's try and get in that."</p> + +<p>"I'm willing," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>They tried in time and were apprised of the proper date to apply again. +That was May 16th. Meanwhile their own show closed May 5th.</p> + +<p>"Those that want to go with the show next season," said the manager, +"will have to sign this week."</p> + +<p>"Don't you sign," advised Lola. "I wouldn't go."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Carrie, "but maybe I can't get anything else."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't," said the little girl, who had a resource in her +admirers. "I went once and I didn't have anything at the end of the +season."</p> + +<p>Carrie thought this over. She had never been on the road.</p> + +<p>"We can get along," added Lola. "I always have."</p> + +<p>Carrie did not sign.</p> + +<p>The manager who was putting on the summer skit at the Casino had never +heard of Carrie, but the several<a name="page_491" id="page_491"></a> notices she had received, her +published picture, and the programme bearing her name had some little +weight with him. He gave her a silent part at thirty dollars a week.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you?" said Lola. "It doesn't do you any good to go away +from New York. They forget all about you if you do."</p> + +<p>Now, because Carrie was pretty, the gentlemen who made up the advance +illustrations of shows about to appear for the Sunday papers selected +Carrie's photo along with others to illustrate the announcement. Because +she was very pretty, they gave it excellent space and drew scrolls about +it. Carrie was delighted. Still, the management did not seem to have +seen anything of it. At least, no more attention was paid to her than +before. At the same time there seemed very little in her part. It +consisted of standing around in all sorts of scenes, a silent little +Quakeress. The author of the skit had fancied that a great deal could be +made of such a part, given to the right actress, but now, since it had +been doled out to Carrie, he would as leave have had it cut out.</p> + +<p>"Don't kick, old man," remarked the manager. "If it don't go the first +week we will cut it out."</p> + +<p>Carrie had no warning of this halcyon intention. She practised her part +ruefully, feeling that she was effectually shelved. At the dress +rehearsal she was disconsolate.</p> + +<p>"That isn't so bad," said the author, the manager noting the curious +effect which Carrie's blues had upon the part. "Tell her to frown a +little more when Sparks dances."</p> + +<p>Carrie did not know it, but there was the least show of wrinkles between +her eyes and her mouth was puckered quaintly.<a name="page_492" id="page_492"></a></p> + +<p>"Frown a little more, Miss Madenda," said the stage manager.</p> + +<p>Carrie instantly brightened up, thinking he had meant it as a rebuke.</p> + +<p>"No; frown," he said. "Frown as you did before."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I mean it," he said. "Frown hard when Mr. Sparks dances. I want to see +how it looks."</p> + +<p>It was easy enough to do. Carrie scowled. The effect was something so +quaint and droll it caught even the manager.</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> good," he said. "If she'll do that all through, I think it +will take."</p> + +<p>Going over to Carrie, he said:</p> + +<p>"Suppose you try frowning all through. Do it hard. Look mad. It'll make +the part really funny."</p> + +<p>On the opening night it looked to Carrie as if there were nothing to her +part, after all. The happy, sweltering audience did not seem to see her +in the first act. She frowned and frowned, but to no effect. Eyes were +riveted upon the more elaborate efforts of the stars.</p> + +<p>In the second act, the crowd, wearied by a dull conversation, roved with +its eyes about the stage and sighted her. There she was, grey-suited, +sweet-faced, demure, but scowling. At first the general idea was that +she was temporarily irritated, that the look was genuine and not fun at +all. As she went on frowning, looking now at one principal and now at +the other, the audience began to smile. The portly gentlemen in the +front rows began to feel that she was a delicious little morsel. It was +the kind of frown they would have loved to force away with kisses. All +the gentlemen yearned toward her. She was capital.</p> + +<p>At last, the chief comedian, singing in the centre of the stage, noticed +a giggle where it was not expected.<a name="page_493" id="page_493"></a> Then another and another. When the +place came for loud applause it was only moderate. What could be the +trouble? He realised that something was up.</p> + +<p>All at once, after an exit, he caught sight of Carrie. She was frowning +alone on the stage and the audience was giggling and laughing.</p> + +<p>"By George, I won't stand that!" thought the thespian. "I'm not going to +have my work cut up by some one else. Either she quits that when I do my +turn or I quit."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's all right," said the manager, when the kick came. "That's +what she's supposed to do. You needn't pay any attention to that."</p> + +<p>"But she ruins my work."</p> + +<p>"No, she don't," returned the former, soothingly. "It's only a little +fun on the side."</p> + +<p>"It is, eh?" exclaimed the big comedian. "She killed my hand all right. +I'm not going to stand that."</p> + +<p>"Well, wait until after the show. Wait until to-morrow. We'll see what +we can do."</p> + +<p>The next act, however, settled what was to be done. Carrie was the chief +feature of the play. The audience, the more it studied her, the more it +indicated its delight. Every other feature paled beside the quaint, +teasing, delightful atmosphere which Carrie contributed while on the +stage. Manager and company realised she had made a hit.</p> + +<p>The critics of the daily papers completed her triumph. There were long +notices in praise of the quality of the burlesque, touched with +recurrent references to Carrie. The contagious mirth of the thing was +repeatedly emphasised.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Miss Madenda presents one of the most delightful bits of character +work ever seen on the Casino stage," observed the sage critic of +the "Sun." "It is a bit of quiet, unassuming drollery<a name="page_494" id="page_494"></a> which warms +like good wine. Evidently the part was not intended to take +precedence, as Miss Madenda is not often on the stage, but the +audience, with the characteristic perversity of such bodies, +selected for itself. The little Quakeress was marked for a +favourite the moment she appeared, and thereafter easily held +attention and applause. The vagaries of fortune are indeed +curious."</p></div> + +<p>The critic of the "Evening World," seeking as usual to establish a catch +phrase which should "go" with the town, wound up by advising: "If you +wish to be merry, see Carrie frown."</p> + +<p>The result was miraculous so far as Carrie's fortune was concerned. Even +during the morning she received a congratulatory message from the +manager.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have taken the town by storm," he wrote. "This is +delightful. I am as glad for your sake as for my own."</p> + +<p>The author also sent word.</p> + +<p>That evening when she entered the theatre the manager had a most +pleasant greeting for her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stevens," he said, referring to the author, "is preparing a little +song, which he would like you to sing next week."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't sing," returned Carrie.</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything difficult. 'It's something that is very simple,' he +says, 'and would suit you exactly.'"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I wouldn't mind trying," said Carrie, archly.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind coming to the box-office a few moments before you +dress?" observed the manager, in addition. "There's a little matter I +want to speak to you about."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied Carrie.</p> + +<p>In that latter place the manager produced a paper.</p> + +<p>"Now, of course," he said, "we want to be fair with you in the matter of +salary. Your contract here only<a name="page_495" id="page_495"></a> calls for thirty dollars a week for the +next three months. How would it do to make it, say, one hundred and +fifty a week and extend it for twelve months?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Carrie, scarcely believing her ears.</p> + +<p>"Supposing, then, you just sign this."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked and beheld a new contract made out like the other one, +with the exception of the new figures of salary and time. With a hand +trembling from excitement she affixed her name.</p> + +<p>"One hundred and fifty a week!" she murmured, when she was again alone. +She found, after all—as what millionaire has not?—that there was no +realising, in consciousness, the meaning of large sums. It was only a +shimmering, glittering phrase in which lay a world of possibilities.</p> + +<p>Down in a third-rate Bleecker Street hotel, the brooding Hurstwood read +the dramatic item covering Carrie's success, without at first realising +who was meant. Then suddenly it came to him and he read the whole thing +over again.</p> + +<p>"That's her, all right, I guess," he said.</p> + +<p>Then he looked about upon a dingy, moth-eaten hotel lobby.</p> + +<p>"I guess she's struck it," he thought, a picture of the old shiny, +plush-covered world coming back, with its lights, its ornaments, its +carriages, and flowers. Ah, she was in the walled city now! Its splendid +gates had opened, admitting her from a cold, dreary outside. She seemed +a creature afar off—like every other celebrity he had known.</p> + +<p>"Well, let her have it," he said. "I won't bother her."</p> + +<p>It was the grim resolution of a bent, bedraggled, but unbroken pride.<a name="page_496" id="page_496"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV<br /><br /> +<small>AND THIS IS NOT ELF LAND: WHAT GOLD WILL NOT BUY</small></h2> + +<p>When Carrie got back on the stage, she found that over night her +dressing-room had been changed.</p> + +<p>"You are to use this room, Miss Madenda," said one of the stage lackeys.</p> + +<p>No longer any need of climbing several flights of steps to a small coop +shared with another. Instead, a comparatively large and commodious +chamber with conveniences not enjoyed by the small fry overhead. She +breathed deeply and with delight. Her sensations were more physical than +mental. In fact, she was scarcely thinking at all. Heart and body were +having their say.</p> + +<p>Gradually the deference and congratulation gave her a mental +appreciation of her state. She was no longer ordered, but requested, and +that politely. The other members of the cast looked at her enviously as +she came out arrayed in her simple habit, which she wore all through the +play. All those who had supposedly been her equals and superiors now +smiled the smile of sociability, as much as to say: "How friendly we +have always been." Only the star comedian whose part had been so deeply +injured stalked by himself. Figuratively, he could not kiss the hand +that smote him.</p> + +<p>Doing her simple part, Carrie gradually realised the meaning of the +applause which was for her, and it was sweet. She felt mildly guilty of +something—perhaps<a name="page_497" id="page_497"></a> unworthiness. When her associates addressed her in +the wings she only smiled weakly. The pride and daring of place were not +for her. It never once crossed her mind to be reserved or haughty—to be +other than she had been. After the performances she rode to her room +with Lola, in a carriage provided.</p> + +<p>Then came a week in which the first fruits of success were offered to +her lips—bowl after bowl. It did not matter that her splendid salary +had not begun. The world seemed satisfied with the promise. She began to +get letters and cards. A Mr. Withers—whom she did not know from +Adam—having learned by some hook or crook where she resided, bowed +himself politely in.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse me for intruding," he said; "but have you been thinking +of changing your apartments?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought of it," returned Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am connected with the Wellington—the new hotel on Broadway. +You have probably seen notices of it in the papers."</p> + +<p>Carrie recognised the name as standing for one of the newest and most +imposing hostelries. She had heard it spoken of as having a splendid +restaurant.</p> + +<p>"Just so," went on Mr. Withers, accepting her acknowledgment of +familiarity. "We have some very elegant rooms at present which we would +like to have you look at, if you have not made up your mind where you +intend to reside for the summer. Our apartments are perfect in every +detail—hot and cold water, private baths, special hall service for +every floor, elevators, and all that. You know what our restaurant is."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him quietly. She was wondering whether he took her to +be a millionaire.</p> + +<p>"What are your rates?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that is what I came to talk with you<a name="page_498" id="page_498"></a> privately about. Our +regular rates are anywhere from three to fifty dollars a day."</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" interrupted Carrie. "I couldn't pay any such rate as that."</p> + +<p>"I know how you feel about it," exclaimed Mr. Withers, halting. "But +just let me explain. I said those are our regular rates. Like every +other hotel we make special ones, however. Possibly you have not thought +about it, but your name is worth something to us."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" ejaculated Carrie, seeing at a glance.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Every hotel depends upon the repute of its patrons. A +well-known actress like yourself," and he bowed politely, while Carrie +flushed, "draws attention to the hotel, and—although you may not +believe it—patrons."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to arrange this curious +proposition in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby hat softly and beating +one of his polished shoes upon the floor, "I want to arrange, if +possible, to have you come and stop at the Wellington. You need not +trouble about terms. In fact, we need hardly discuss them. Anything will +do for the summer—a mere figure—anything that you think you could +afford to pay."</p> + +<p>Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no chance.</p> + +<p>"You can come to-day or to-morrow—the earlier the better—and we will +give you your choice of nice, light, outside rooms—the very best we +have."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind," said Carrie, touched by the agent's extreme +affability. "I should like to come very much. I would want to pay what +is right, however. I shouldn't want to——"<a name="page_499" id="page_499"></a></p> + +<p>"You need not trouble about that at all," interrupted Mr. Withers. "We +can arrange that to your entire satisfaction at any time. If three +dollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will be so to us. All you have +to do is to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of the week or month, +just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt for what the rooms +would cost if charged for at our regular rates."</p> + +<p>The speaker paused.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you come and look at the rooms," he added.</p> + +<p>"I'd be glad to," said Carrie, "but I have a rehearsal this morning."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean at once," he returned. "Any time will do. Would this +afternoon be inconvenient?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she remembered Lola, who was out at the time.</p> + +<p>"I have a room-mate," she added, "who will have to go wherever I do. I +forgot about that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Mr. Withers, blandly. "It is for you to say whom +you want with you. As I say, all that can be arranged to suit yourself."</p> + +<p>He bowed and backed toward the door.</p> + +<p>"At four, then, we may expect you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I will be there to show you," and so Mr. Withers withdrew.</p> + +<p>After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola.</p> + +<p>"Did they really?" exclaimed the latter, thinking of the Wellington as a +group of managers. "Isn't that fine? Oh, jolly! It's so swell. That's +where we dined that night we went with those two Cushing boys. Don't you +know?"</p> + +<p>"I remember," said Carrie.<a name="page_500" id="page_500"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, it's as fine as it can be."</p> + +<p>"We'd better be going up there," observed Carrie, later in the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The rooms which Mr. Withers displayed to Carrie and Lola were three and +bath—a suite on the parlour floor. They were done in chocolate and dark +red, with rugs and hangings to match. Three windows looked down into +busy Broadway on the east, three into a side street which crossed there. +There were two lovely bedrooms, set with brass and white enamel beds, +white, ribbon-trimmed chairs and chiffoniers to match. In the third +room, or parlour, was a piano, a heavy piano lamp, with a shade of +gorgeous pattern, a library table, several huge easy rockers, some dado +book shelves, and a gilt curio case, filled with oddities. Pictures were +upon the walls, soft Turkish pillows upon the divan, footstools of brown +plush upon the floor. Such accommodations would ordinarily cost a +hundred dollars a week.</p> + +<p>"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Lola, walking about.</p> + +<p>"It is comfortable," said Carrie, who was lifting a lace curtain and +looking down into crowded Broadway.</p> + +<p>The bath was a handsome affair, done in white enamel, with a large, +blue-bordered stone tub and nickel trimmings. It was bright and +commodious, with a bevelled mirror set in the wall at one end and +incandescent lights arranged in three places.</p> + +<p>"Do you find these satisfactory?" observed Mr. Withers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very," answered Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, any time you find it convenient to move in, they are ready. +The boy will bring you the keys at the door."</p> + +<p>Carrie noted the elegantly carpeted and decorated hall, the marbelled +lobby, and showy waiting-room.<a name="page_501" id="page_501"></a> It was such a place as she had often +dreamed of occupying.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'd better move right away, don't you think so?" she observed +to Lola, thinking of the commonplace chamber in Seventeenth Street.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by all means," said the latter.</p> + +<p>The next day her trunks left for the new abode.</p> + +<p>Dressing, after the matinée on Wednesday, a knock came at her +dressing-room door.</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at the card handed by the boy and suffered a shock of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Tell her I'll be right out," she said softly. Then, looking at the +card, added: "Mrs. Vance."</p> + +<p>"Why, you little sinner," the latter exclaimed, as she saw Carrie coming +toward her across the now vacant stage. "How in the world did this +happen?"</p> + +<p>Carrie laughed merrily. There was no trace of embarrassment in her +friend's manner. You would have thought that the long separation had +come about accidentally.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," returned Carrie, warming, in spite of her first troubled +feelings, toward this handsome, good-natured young matron.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, I saw your picture in the Sunday paper, but your name +threw me off. I thought it must be you or somebody that looked just like +you, and I said: 'Well, now, I will go right down there and see.' I was +never more surprised in my life. How are you anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," returned Carrie. "How have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Fine. But aren't you a success! Dear, oh! All the papers talking about +you. I should think you would be just too proud to breathe. I was almost +afraid to come back here this afternoon."<a name="page_502" id="page_502"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense," said Carrie, blushing. "You know I'd be glad to see +you."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, here you are. Can't you come up and take dinner with me +now? Where are you stopping?"</p> + +<p>"At the Wellington," said Carrie, who permitted herself a touch of pride +in the acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, are you?" exclaimed the other, upon whom the name was not without +its proper effect.</p> + +<p>Tactfully, Mrs. Vance avoided the subject of Hurstwood, of whom she +could not help thinking. No doubt Carrie had left him. That much she +surmised.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think I can," said Carrie, "to-night. I have so little +time. I must be back here by 7.30. Won't you come and dine with me?"</p> + +<p>"I'd be delighted, but I can't to-night," said Mrs. Vance, studying +Carrie's fine appearance. The latter's good fortune made her seem more +than ever worthy and delightful in the other's eyes. "I promised +faithfully to be home at six." Glancing at the small gold watch pinned +to her bosom, she added: "I must be going, too. Tell me when you're +coming up, if at all."</p> + +<p>"Why, any time you like," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well, to-morrow then. I'm living at the Chelsea now."</p> + +<p>"Moved again?" exclaimed Carrie, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know I can't stay six months in one place. I just have to +move. Remember now—half-past five."</p> + +<p>"I won't forget," said Carrie, casting a glance at her as she went away. +Then it came to her that she was as good as this woman now—perhaps +better. Something in the other's solicitude and interest made her feel +as if she were the one to condescend.</p> + +<p>Now, as on each preceding day, letters were handed<a name="page_503" id="page_503"></a> her by the doorman +at the Casino. This was a feature which had rapidly developed since +Monday. What they contained she well knew. <i>Mash notes</i> were old affairs +in their mildest form. She remembered having received her first one far +back in Columbia City. Since then, as a chorus girl, she had received +others—gentlemen who prayed for an engagement. They were common sport +between her and Lola, who received some also. They both frequently made +light of them.</p> + +<p>Now, however, they came thick and fast. Gentlemen with fortunes did not +hesitate to note, as an addition to their own amiable collection of +virtues, that they had their horses and carriages. Thus one:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have a million in my own right. I could give you every luxury. +There isn't anything you could ask for that you couldn't have. I +say this, not because I want to speak of my money, but because I +love you and wish to gratify your every desire. It is love that +prompts me to write. Will you not give me one half-hour in which to +plead my cause?"</p></div> + +<p>Such of these letters as came while Carrie was still in the Seventeenth +Street place were read with more interest—though never delight—than +those which arrived after she was installed in her luxurious quarters at +the Wellington. Even there her vanity—or that self-appreciation which, +in its more rabid form, is called vanity—was not sufficiently cloyed to +make these things wearisome. Adulation, being new in any form, pleased +her. Only she was sufficiently wise to distinguish between her old +condition and her new one. She had not had fame or money before. Now +they had come. She had not had adulation and affectionate propositions +before. Now they had come. Wherefore? She smiled to think that men +should suddenly find her so much more attractive. In the least way it +incited her to coolness and indifference.<a name="page_504" id="page_504"></a></p> + +<p>"Do look here," she remarked to Lola. "See what this man says: 'If you +will only deign to grant me one half-hour,'" she repeated, with an +imitation of languor. "The idea. Aren't men silly?"</p> + +<p>"He must have lots of money, the way he talks," observed Lola.</p> + +<p>"That's what they all say," said Carrie, innocently.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you see him," suggested Lola, "and hear what he has to say?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I won't," said Carrie. "I know what he'd say. I don't want to +meet anybody that way."</p> + +<p>Lola looked at her with big, merry eyes.</p> + +<p>"He couldn't hurt you," she returned. "You might have some fun with +him."</p> + +<p>Carrie shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You're awfully queer," returned the little, blue-eyed soldier.</p> + +<p>Thus crowded fortune. For this whole week, though her large salary had +not yet arrived, it was as if the world understood and trusted her. +Without money—or the requisite sum, at least—she enjoyed the luxuries +which money could buy. For her the doors of fine places seemed to open +quite without the asking. These palatial chambers, how marvellously they +came to her. The elegant apartments of Mrs. Vance in the Chelsea—these +were hers. Men sent flowers, love notes, offers of fortune. And still +her dreams ran riot. The one hundred and fifty! the one hundred and +fifty! What a door to an Aladdin's cave it seemed to be. Each day, her +head almost turned by developments, her fancies of what her fortune must +be, with ample money, grew and multiplied. She conceived of delights +which were not—saw lights of joy that never were on land or sea. Then, +at last, after a world of anticipation, came her first installment of +one hundred and fifty dollars.<a name="page_505" id="page_505"></a></p> + +<p>It was paid to her in greenbacks—three twenties, six tens, and six +fives. Thus collected it made a very convenient roll. It was accompanied +by a smile and a salutation from the cashier who paid it.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," said the latter, when she applied; "Miss Madenda—one hundred +and fifty dollars. Quite a success the show seems to have made."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," returned Carrie.</p> + +<p>Right after came one of the insignificant members of the company, and +she heard the changed tone of address.</p> + +<p>"How much?" said the same cashier, sharply. One, such as she had only +recently been, was waiting for her modest salary. It took her back to +the few weeks in which she had collected—or rather had received—almost +with the air of a domestic, four-fifty per week from a lordly foreman in +a shoe factory—a man who, in distributing the envelopes, had the manner +of a prince doling out favours to a servile group of petitioners. She +knew that out in Chicago this very day the same factory chamber was full +of poor homely-clad girls working in long lines at clattering machines; +that at noon they would eat a miserable lunch in a half-hour; that +Saturday they would gather, as they had when she was one of them, and +accept the small pay for work a hundred times harder than she was now +doing. Oh, it was so easy now! The world was so rosy and bright. She +felt so thrilled that she must needs walk back to the hotel to think, +wondering what she should do.</p> + +<p>It does not take money long to make plain its impotence, providing the +desires are in the realm of affection. With her one hundred and fifty in +hand, Carrie could think of nothing particularly to do. In itself, as a +tangible, apparent thing which she could touch and<a name="page_506" id="page_506"></a> look upon, it was a +diverting thing for a few days, but this soon passed. Her hotel bill did +not require its use. Her clothes had for some time been wholly +satisfactory. Another day or two and she would receive another hundred +and fifty. It began to appear as if this were not so startlingly +necessary to maintain her present state. If she wanted to do anything +better or move higher she must have more—a great deal more.</p> + +<p>Now a critic called to get up one of those tinsel interviews which shine +with clever observations, show up the wit of critics, display the folly +of celebrities, and divert the public. He liked Carrie, and said so, +publicly—adding, however, that she was merely pretty, good-natured, and +lucky. This cut like a knife. The "Herald," getting up an entertainment +for the benefit of its free ice fund, did her the honour to beg her to +appear along with celebrities for nothing. She was visited by a young +author, who had a play which he thought she could produce. Alas, she +could not judge. It hurt her to think it. Then she found she must put +her money in the bank for safety, and so moving, finally reached the +place where it struck her that the door to life's perfect enjoyment was +not open.</p> + +<p>Gradually she began to think it was because it was summer. Nothing was +going on much save such entertainments as the one in which she was star. +Fifth Avenue was boarded up where the rich had deserted their mansions. +Madison Avenue was little better. Broadway was full of loafing thespians +in search of next season engagements. The whole city was quiet and her +nights were taken up with her work. Hence the feeling that there was +little to do.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said to Lola one day, sitting at one of the windows +which looked down into Broadway, "I get lonely; don't you?"<a name="page_507" id="page_507"></a></p> + +<p>"No," said Lola, "not very often. You won't go anywhere. That's what's +the matter with you."</p> + +<p>"Where can I go?"</p> + +<p>"Why, there're lots of places," returned Lola, who was thinking of her +own lightsome tourneys with the gay youths. "You won't go with anybody."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go with these people who write to me. I know what kind +they are."</p> + +<p>"You oughtn't to be lonely," said Lola, thinking of Carrie's success. +"There're lots would give their ears to be in your shoes."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked out again at the passing crowd.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously her idle hands were beginning to weary.<a name="page_508" id="page_508"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV<br /><br /> +<small>CURIOUS SHIFTS OF THE POOR</small></h2> + +<p>The gloomy Hurstwood, sitting in his cheap hotel, where he had taken +refuge with seventy dollars—the price of his furniture—between him and +nothing, saw a hot summer out and a cool fall in, reading. He was not +wholly indifferent to the fact that his money was slipping away. As +fifty cents after fifty cents were paid out for a day's lodging he +became uneasy, and finally took a cheaper room—thirty-five cents a +day—to make his money last longer. Frequently he saw notices of Carrie. +Her picture was in the "World" once or twice, and an old "Herald" he +found in a chair informed him that she had recently appeared with some +others at a benefit for something or other. He read these things with +mingled feelings. Each one seemed to put her farther and farther away +into a realm which became more imposing as it receded from him. On the +bill-boards, too, he saw a pretty poster, showing her as the Quaker +Maid, demure and dainty. More than once he stopped and looked at these, +gazing at the pretty face in a sullen sort of way. His clothes were +shabby, and he presented a marked contrast to all that she now seemed to +be.</p> + +<p>Somehow, so long as he knew she was at the Casino, though he had never +any intention of going near her, there was a sub-conscious comfort for +him—he was not quite alone. The show seemed such a fixture that, after +a month or two, he began to take it for granted that it<a name="page_509" id="page_509"></a> was still +running. In September it went on the road and he did not notice it. When +all but twenty dollars of his money was gone, he moved to a fifteen-cent +lodging-house in the Bowery, where there was a bare lounging-room filled +with tables and benches as well as some chairs. Here his preference was +to close his eyes and dream of other days, a habit which grew upon him. +It was not sleep at first, but a mental hearkening back to scenes and +incidents in his Chicago life. As the present became darker, the past +grew brighter, and all that concerned it stood in relief.</p> + +<p>He was unconscious of just how much this habit had hold of him until one +day he found his lips repeating an old answer he had made to one of his +friends. They were in Fitzgerald and Moy's. It was as if he stood in the +door of his elegant little office, comfortably dressed, talking to Sagar +Morrison about the value of South Chicago real estate in which the +latter was about to invest.</p> + +<p>"How would you like to come in on that with me?" he heard Morrison say.</p> + +<p>"Not me," he answered, just as he had years before. "I have my hands +full now."</p> + +<p>The movement of his lips aroused him. He wondered whether he had really +spoken. The next time he noticed anything of the sort he really did +talk.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you jump, you bloody fool?" he was saying. "Jump!"</p> + +<p>It was a funny English story he was telling to a company of actors. Even +as his voice recalled him, he was smiling. A crusty old codger, sitting +near by, seemed disturbed; at least, he stared in a most pointed way. +Hurstwood straightened up. The humour of the memory fled in an instant +and he felt ashamed. For relief, he left his chair and strolled out into +the streets.<a name="page_510" id="page_510"></a></p> + +<p>One day, looking down the ad. columns of the "Evening World," he saw +where a new play was at the Casino. Instantly, he came to a mental halt. +Carrie had gone! He remembered seeing a poster of her only yesterday, +but no doubt it was one left uncovered by the new signs. Curiously, this +fact shook him up. He had almost to admit that somehow he was depending +upon her being in the city. Now she was gone. He wondered how this +important fact had skipped him. Goodness knows when she would be back +now. Impelled by a nervous fear, he rose and went into the dingy hall, +where he counted his remaining money, unseen. There were but ten dollars +in all.</p> + +<p>He wondered how all these other lodging-house people around him got +along. They didn't seem to do anything. Perhaps they +begged—unquestionably they did. Many was the dime he had given to such +as they in his day. He had seen other men asking for money on the +streets. Maybe he could get some that way. There was horror in this +thought.</p> + +<p>Sitting in the lodging-house room, he came to his last fifty cents. He +had saved and counted until his health was affected. His stoutness had +gone. With it, even the semblance of a fit in his clothes. Now he +decided he must do something, and, walking about, saw another day go by, +bringing him down to his last twenty cents—not enough to eat for the +morrow.</p> + +<p>Summoning all his courage, he crossed to Broadway and up to the Broadway +Central hotel. Within a block he halted, undecided. A big, heavy-faced +porter was standing at one of the side entrances, looking out. Hurstwood +purposed to appeal to him. Walking straight up, he was upon him before +he could turn away.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said, recognising even in his plight<a name="page_511" id="page_511"></a> the man's +inferiority, "is there anything about this hotel that I could get to +do?"</p> + +<p>The porter stared at him the while he continued to talk.</p> + +<p>"I'm out of work and out of money and I've got to get something—it +doesn't matter what. I don't care to talk about what I've been, but if +you'd tell me how to get something to do, I'd be much obliged to you. It +wouldn't matter if it only lasted a few days just now. I've got to have +something."</p> + +<p>The porter still gazed, trying to look indifferent. Then, seeing that +Hurstwood was about to go on, he said:</p> + +<p>"I've nothing to do with it. You'll have to ask inside."</p> + +<p>Curiously, this stirred Hurstwood to further effort.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might tell me."</p> + +<p>The fellow shook his head irritably.</p> + +<p>Inside went the ex-manager and straight to an office off the clerk's +desk. One of the managers of the hotel happened to be there. Hurstwood +looked him straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>"Could you give me something to do for a few days?" he said. "I'm in a +position where I have to get something at once."</p> + +<p>The comfortable manager looked at him, as much as to say: "Well, I +should judge so."</p> + +<p>"I came here," explained Hurstwood, nervously, "because I've been a +manager myself in my day. I've had bad luck in a way, but I'm not here +to tell you that. I want something to do, if only for a week."</p> + +<p>The man imagined he saw a feverish gleam in the applicant's eye.</p> + +<p>"What hotel did you manage?" he inquired.<a name="page_512" id="page_512"></a></p> + +<p>"It wasn't a hotel," said Hurstwood. "I was manager of Fitzgerald and +Moy's place in Chicago for fifteen years."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said the hotel man. "How did you come to get out of that?"</p> + +<p>The figure of Hurstwood was rather surprising in contrast to the fact.</p> + +<p>"Well, by foolishness of my own. It isn't anything to talk about now. +You could find out if you wanted to. I'm 'broke' now and, if you will +believe me, I haven't eaten anything to-day."</p> + +<p>The hotel man was slightly interested in this story. He could hardly +tell what to do with such a figure, and yet Hurstwood's earnestness made +him wish to do something.</p> + +<p>"Call Olsen," he said, turning to the clerk.</p> + +<p>In reply to a bell and a disappearing hall-boy, Olsen, the head porter, +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Olsen," said the manager, "is there anything downstairs you could find +for this man to do? I'd like to give him something."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir," said Olsen. "We have about all the help we need. I +think I could find something, sir, though, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Do. Take him to the kitchen and tell Wilson to give him something to +eat."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said Olsen.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood followed. Out of the manager's sight, the head porter's manner +changed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what the devil there is to do," he observed.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood said nothing. To him the big trunk hustler was a subject for +private contempt.</p> + +<p>"You're to give this man something to eat," he observed to the cook.<a name="page_513" id="page_513"></a></p> + +<p>The latter looked Hurstwood over, and seeing something keen and +intellectual in his eyes, said:</p> + +<p>"Well, sit down over there."</p> + +<p>Thus was Hurstwood installed in the Broadway Central, but not for long. +He was in no shape or mood to do the scrub work that exists about the +foundation of every hotel. Nothing better offering, he was set to aid +the fireman, to work about the basement, to do anything and everything +that might offer. Porters, cooks, firemen, clerks—all were over him. +Moreover his appearance did not please these individuals—his temper was +too lonely—and they made it disagreeable for him.</p> + +<p>With the stolidity and indifference of despair, however, he endured it +all, sleeping in an attic at the roof of the house, eating what the cook +gave him, accepting a few dollars a week, which he tried to save. His +constitution was in no shape to endure.</p> + +<p>One day the following February he was sent on an errand to a large coal +company's office. It had been snowing and thawing and the streets were +sloppy. He soaked his shoes in his progress and came back feeling dull +and weary. All the next day he felt unusually depressed and sat about as +much as possible, to the irritation of those who admired energy in +others.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon some boxes were to be moved to make room for new +culinary supplies. He was ordered to handle a truck. Encountering a big +box, he could not lift it.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter there?" said the head porter. "Can't you handle it?"</p> + +<p>He was straining hard to lift it, but now he quit.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, weakly.</p> + +<p>The man looked at him and saw that he was deathly pale.</p> + +<p>"Not sick, are you?" he asked.<a name="page_514" id="page_514"></a></p> + +<p>"I think I am," returned Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better go sit down, then."</p> + +<p>This he did, but soon grew rapidly worse. It seemed all he could do to +crawl to his room, where he remained for a day.</p> + +<p>"That man Wheeler's sick," reported one of the lackeys to the night +clerk.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He's got a high fever."</p> + +<p>The hotel physician looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Better send him to Bellevue," he recommended. "He's got pneumonia."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, he was carted away.</p> + +<p>In three weeks the worst was over, but it was nearly the first of May +before his strength permitted him to be turned out. Then he was +discharged.</p> + +<p>No more weakly looking object ever strolled out into the spring sunshine +than the once hale, lusty manager. All his corpulency had fled. His face +was thin and pale, his hands white, his body flabby. Clothes and all, he +weighed but one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Some old garments had +been given him—a cheap brown coat and misfit pair of trousers. Also +some change and advice. He was told to apply to the charities.</p> + +<p>Again he resorted to the Bowery lodging-house, brooding over where to +look. From this it was but a step to beggary.</p> + +<p>"What can a man do?" he said. "I can't starve."</p> + +<p>His first application was in sunny Second Avenue. A well-dressed man +came leisurely strolling toward him out of Stuyvesant Park. Hurstwood +nerved himself and sidled near.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind giving me ten cents?" he said, directly. "I'm in a +position where I must ask someone."<a name="page_515" id="page_515"></a></p> + +<p>The man scarcely looked at him, but fished in his vest pocket and took +out a dime.</p> + +<p>"There you are," he said.</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," said Hurstwood, softly, but the other paid no more +attention to him.</p> + +<p>Satisfied with his success and yet ashamed of his situation, he decided +that he would only ask for twenty-five cents more, since that would be +sufficient. He strolled about sizing up people, but it was long before +just the right face and situation arrived. When he asked, he was +refused. Shocked by this result, he took an hour to recover and then +asked again. This time a nickel was given him. By the most watchful +effort he did get twenty cents more, but it was painful.</p> + +<p>The next day he resorted to the same effort, experiencing a variety of +rebuffs and one or two generous receptions. At last it crossed his mind +that there was a science of faces, and that a man could pick the liberal +countenance if he tried.</p> + +<p>It was no pleasure to him, however, this stopping of passers-by. He saw +one man taken up for it and now troubled lest he should be arrested. +Nevertheless, he went on, vaguely anticipating that indefinite something +which is always better.</p> + +<p>It was with a sense of satisfaction, then, that he saw announced one +morning the return of the Casino Company, "with Miss Carrie Madenda." He +had thought of her often enough in days past. How successful she +was—how much money she must have! Even now, however, it took a severe +run of ill-luck to decide him to appeal to her. He was truly hungry +before he said:</p> + +<p>"I'll ask her. She won't refuse me a few dollars."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, he headed for the Casino one afternoon, passing it several +times in an effort to locate the stage<a name="page_516" id="page_516"></a> entrance. Then he sat in Bryant +Park, a block away, waiting. "She can't refuse to help me a little," he +kept saying to himself.</p> + +<p>Beginning with half-past six, he hovered like a shadow about the +Thirty-ninth Street entrance, pretending always to be a hurrying +pedestrian and yet fearful lest he should miss his object. He was +slightly nervous, too, now that the eventful hour had arrived; but being +weak and hungry, his ability to suffer was modified. At last he saw that +the actors were beginning to arrive, and his nervous tension increased, +until it seemed as if he could not stand much more.</p> + +<p>Once he thought he saw Carrie coming and moved forward, only to see that +he was mistaken.</p> + +<p>"She can't be long, now," he said to himself, half fearing to encounter +her and equally depressed at the thought that she might have gone in by +another way. His stomach was so empty that it ached.</p> + +<p>Individual after individual passed him, nearly all well dressed, almost +all indifferent. He saw coaches rolling by, gentlemen passing with +ladies—the evening's merriment was beginning in this region of theatres +and hotels.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a coach rolled up and the driver jumped down to open the door. +Before Hurstwood could act, two ladies flounced across the broad walk +and disappeared in the stage door. He thought he saw Carrie, but it was +so unexpected, so elegant and far away, he could hardly tell. He waited +a while longer, growing feverish with want, and then seeing that the +stage door no longer opened, and that a merry audience was arriving, he +concluded it must have been Carrie and turned away.</p> + +<p>"Lord," he said, hastening out of the street into which the more +fortunate were pouring, "I've got to get something."<a name="page_517" id="page_517"></a></p> + +<p>At that hour, when Broadway is wont to assume its most interesting +aspect, a peculiar individual invariably took his stand at the corner of +Twenty-sixth Street and Broadway—a spot which is also intersected by +Fifth Avenue. This was the hour when the theatres were just beginning to +receive their patrons. Fire signs announcing the night's amusements +blazed on every hand. Cabs and carriages, their lamps gleaming like +yellow eyes, pattered by. Couples and parties of three and four freely +mingled in the common crowd, which poured by in a thick stream, laughing +and jesting. On Fifth Avenue were loungers—a few wealthy strollers, a +gentleman in evening dress with his lady on his arm, some clubmen +passing from one smoking-room to another. Across the way the great +hotels showed a hundred gleaming windows, their cafés and billiard-rooms +filled with a comfortable, well-dressed, and pleasure-loving throng. All +about was the night, pulsating with the thoughts of pleasure and +exhilaration—the curious enthusiasm of a great city bent upon finding +joy in a thousand different ways.</p> + +<p>This unique individual was no less than an ex-soldier turned +religionist, who, having suffered the whips and privations of our +peculiar social system, had concluded that his duty to the God which he +conceived lay in aiding his fellow-man. The form of aid which he chose +to administer was entirely original with himself. It consisted of +securing a bed for all such homeless wayfarers as should apply to him at +this particular spot, though he had scarcely the wherewithal to provide +a comfortable habitation for himself.</p> + +<p>Taking his place amid this lightsome atmosphere, he would stand, his +stocky figure cloaked in a great cape overcoat, his head protected by a +broad slouch hat, awaiting the applicants who had in various ways<a name="page_518" id="page_518"></a> +learned the nature of his charity. For a while he would stand alone, +gazing like any idler upon an ever-fascinating scene. On the evening in +question, a policeman passing saluted him as "captain," in a friendly +way. An urchin who had frequently seen him before, stopped to gaze. All +others took him for nothing out of the ordinary, save in the matter of +dress, and conceived of him as a stranger whistling and idling for his +own amusement.</p> + +<p>As the first half-hour waned, certain characters appeared. Here and +there in the passing crowds one might see, now and then, a loiterer +edging interestedly near. A slouchy figure crossed the opposite corner +and glanced furtively in his direction. Another came down Fifth Avenue +to the corner of Twenty-sixth Street, took a general survey, and hobbled +off again. Two or three noticeable Bowery types edged along the Fifth +Avenue side of Madison Square, but did not venture over. The soldier, in +his cape overcoat, walked a short line of ten feet at his corner, to and +fro, indifferently whistling.</p> + +<p>As nine o'clock approached, some of the hubbub of the earlier hour +passed. The atmosphere of the hotels was not so youthful. The air, too, +was colder. On every hand curious figures were moving—watchers and +peepers, without an imaginary circle, which they seemed afraid to +enter—a dozen in all. Presently, with the arrival of a keener sense of +cold, one figure came forward. It crossed Broadway from out the shadow +of Twenty-sixth Street, and, in a halting, circuitous way, arrived close +to the waiting figure. There was something shamefaced or diffident about +the movement, as if the intention were to conceal any idea of stopping +until the very last moment. Then suddenly, close to the soldier, came +the halt.<a name="page_519" id="page_519"></a></p> + +<p>The captain looked in recognition, but there was no especial greeting. +The newcomer nodded slightly and murmured something like one who waits +for gifts. The other simply motioned toward the edge of the walk.</p> + +<p>"Stand over there," he said.</p> + +<p>By this the spell was broken. Even while the soldier resumed his short, +solemn walk, other figures shuffled forward. They did not so much as +greet the leader, but joined the one, sniffling and hitching and +scraping their feet.</p> + +<p>"Cold, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad winter's over."</p> + +<p>"Looks as though it might rain."</p> + +<p>The motley company had increased to ten. One or two knew each other and +conversed. Others stood off a few feet, not wishing to be in the crowd +and yet not counted out. They were peevish, crusty, silent, eying +nothing in particular and moving their feet.</p> + +<p>There would have been talking soon, but the soldier gave them no chance. +Counting sufficient to begin, he came forward.</p> + +<p>"Beds, eh, all of you?"</p> + +<p>There was a general shuffle and murmur of approval.</p> + +<p>"Well, line up here. I'll see what I can do. I haven't a cent myself."</p> + +<p>They fell into a sort of broken, ragged line. One might see, now, some +of the chief characteristics by contrast. There was a wooden leg in the +line. Hats were all drooping, a group that would ill become a +second-hand Hester Street basement collection. Trousers were all warped +and frayed at the bottom and coats worn and faded. In the glare of the +store lights, some of the faces looked dry and chalky; others were red +with blotches and puffed in the cheeks and under the eyes; one or two +were rawboned and reminded<a name="page_520" id="page_520"></a> one of railroad hands. A few spectators came +near, drawn by the seemingly conferring group, then more and more, and +quickly there was a pushing, gaping crowd. Some one in the line began to +talk.</p> + +<p>"Silence!" exclaimed the captain. "Now, then, gentlemen, these men are +without beds. They have to have some place to sleep to-night. They can't +lie out in the streets. I need twelve cents to put one of them to bed. +Who will give it to me?"</p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll have to wait here, boys, until some one does. Twelve cents +isn't so very much for one man."</p> + +<p>"Here's fifteen," exclaimed a young man, peering forward with strained +eyes. "It's all I can afford."</p> + +<p>"All right. Now I have fifteen. Step out of the line," and seizing one +by the shoulder, the captain marched him off a little way and stood him +up alone.</p> + +<p>Coming back, he resumed his place and began again.</p> + +<p>"I have three cents left. These men must be put to bed somehow. There +are"—counting—"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, +ten, eleven, twelve men. Nine cents more will put the next man to bed; +give him a good, comfortable bed for the night. I go right along and +look after that myself. Who will give me nine cents?"</p> + +<p>One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, handed him a five-cent +piece.</p> + +<p>"Now, I have eight cents. Four more will give this man a bed. Come, +gentlemen. We are going very slow this evening. You all have good beds. +How about these?"</p> + +<p>"Here you are," remarked a bystander, putting a coin into his hand.</p> + +<p>"That," said the captain, looking at the coin, "pays<a name="page_521" id="page_521"></a> for two beds for +two men and gives me five on the next one. Who will give me seven cents +more?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said a voice.</p> + +<p>Coming down Sixth Avenue this evening, Hurstwood chanced to cross east +through Twenty-sixth Street toward Third Avenue. He was wholly +disconsolate in spirit, hungry to what he deemed an almost mortal +extent, weary, and defeated. How should he get at Carrie now? It would +be eleven before the show was over. If she came in a coach, she would go +away in one. He would need to interrupt under most trying circumstances. +Worst of all, he was hungry and weary, and at best a whole day must +intervene, for he had not heart to try again to-night. He had no food +and no bed.</p> + +<p>When he neared Broadway, he noticed the captain's gathering of +wanderers, but thinking it to be the result of a street preacher or some +patent medicine fakir, was about to pass on. However, in crossing the +street toward Madison Square Park, he noticed the line of men whose beds +were already secured, stretching out from the main body of the crowd. In +the glare of the neighbouring electric light he recognised a type of his +own kind—the figures whom he saw about the streets and in the +lodging-houses, drifting in mind and body like himself. He wondered what +it could be and turned back.</p> + +<p>There was the captain curtly pleading as before. He heard with +astonishment and a sense of relief the oft-repeated words: "These men +must have a bed." Before him was the line of unfortunates whose beds +were yet to be had, and seeing a newcomer quietly edge up and take a +position at the end of the line, he decided to do likewise. What use to +contend? He was weary to-night. It was a simple way out of one<a name="page_522" id="page_522"></a> +difficulty, at least. To-morrow, maybe, he would do better.</p> + +<p>Back of him, where some of those were whose beds were safe, a relaxed +air was apparent. The strain of uncertainty being removed, he heard them +talking with moderate freedom and some leaning toward sociability. +Politics, religion, the state of the government, some newspaper +sensations, and the more notorious facts the world over, found +mouthpieces and auditors there. Cracked and husky voices pronounced +forcibly upon odd matters. Vague and rambling observations were made in +reply.</p> + +<p>There were squints, and leers, and some dull, ox-like stares from those +who were too dull or too weary to converse.</p> + +<p>Standing tells. Hurstwood became more weary waiting. He thought he +should drop soon and shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. At +last his turn came. The man ahead had been paid for and gone to the +blessed line of success. He was now first, and already the captain was +talking for him.</p> + +<p>"Twelve cents, gentlemen—twelve cents puts this man to bed. He wouldn't +stand here in the cold if he had any place to go."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood swallowed something that rose to his throat. Hunger and +weakness had made a coward of him.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," said a stranger, handing money to the captain.</p> + +<p>Now the latter put a kindly hand on the ex-manager's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Line up over there," he said.</p> + +<p>Once there, Hurstwood breathed easier. He felt as if the world were not +quite so bad with such a good man in it. Others seemed to feel like +himself about this.<a name="page_523" id="page_523"></a></p> + +<p>"Captain's a great feller, ain't he?" said the man ahead—a little, +woe-begone, helpless-looking sort of individual, who looked as though he +had ever been the sport and care of fortune.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hurstwood, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Huh! there's a lot back there yet," said a man farther up, leaning out +and looking back at the applicants for whom the captain was pleading.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Must be over a hundred to-night," said another.</p> + +<p>"Look at the guy in the cab," observed a third.</p> + +<p>A cab had stopped. Some gentleman in evening dress reached out a bill to +the captain, who took it with simple thanks and turned away to his line. +There was a general craning of necks as the jewel in the white shirt +front sparkled and the cab moved off. Even the crowd gaped in awe.</p> + +<p>"That fixes up nine men for the night," said the captain, counting out +as many of the line near him. "Line up over there. Now, then, there are +only seven. I need twelve cents."</p> + +<p>Money came slowly. In the course of time the crowd thinned out to a +meagre handful. Fifth Avenue, save for an occasional cab or foot +passenger, was bare. Broadway was thinly peopled with pedestrians. Only +now and then a stranger passing noticed the small group, handed out a +coin, and went away, unheeding.</p> + +<p>The captain remained stolid and determined. He talked on, very slowly, +uttering the fewest words and with a certain assurance, as though he +could not fail.</p> + +<p>"Come; I can't stay out here all night. These men are getting tired and +cold. Some one give me four cents."</p> + +<p>There came a time when he said nothing at all. Money was handed him, and +for each twelve cents he singled out a man and put him in the other +line. Then<a name="page_524" id="page_524"></a> he walked up and down as before, looking at the ground.</p> + +<p>The theatres let out. Fire signs disappeared. A clock struck eleven. +Another half-hour and he was down to the last two men.</p> + +<p>"Come, now," he exclaimed to several curious observers; "eighteen cents +will fix us all up for the night. Eighteen cents. I have six. Somebody +give me the money. Remember, I have to go over to Brooklyn yet to-night. +Before that I have to take these men down and put them to bed. Eighteen +cents."</p> + +<p>No one responded. He walked to and fro, looking down for several +minutes, occasionally saying softly: "Eighteen cents." It seemed as if +this paltry sum would delay the desired culmination longer than all the +rest had. Hurstwood, buoyed up slightly by the long line of which he was +a part, refrained with an effort from groaning, he was so weak.</p> + +<p>At last a lady in opera cape and rustling skirts came down Fifth Avenue, +accompanied by her escort. Hurstwood gazed wearily, reminded by her both +of Carrie in her new world and of the time when he had escorted his own +wife in like manner.</p> + +<p>While he was gazing, she turned and, looking at the remarkable company, +sent her escort over. He came, holding a bill in his fingers, all +elegant and graceful.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the captain, turning to the two remaining applicants. +"Now we have some for to-morrow night," he added.</p> + +<p>Therewith he lined up the last two and proceeded to the head, counting +as he went.</p> + +<p>"One hundred and thirty-seven," he announced. "Now, boys, line up. Right +dress there. We won't be much longer about this. Steady, now."<a name="page_525" id="page_525"></a></p> + +<p>He placed himself at the head and called out "Forward." Hurstwood moved +with the line. Across Fifth Avenue, through Madison Square by the +winding paths, east on Twenty-third Street, and down Third Avenue wound +the long, serpentine company. Midnight pedestrians and loiterers stopped +and stared as the company passed. Chatting policemen, at various +corners, stared indifferently or nodded to the leader, whom they had +seen before. On Third Avenue they marched, a seemingly weary way, to +Eighth Street, where there was a lodging-house, closed, apparently, for +the night. They were expected, however.</p> + +<p>Outside in the gloom they stood, while the leader parleyed within. Then +doors swung open and they were invited in with a "Steady, now."</p> + +<p>Some one was at the head showing rooms, so that there was no delay for +keys. Toiling up the creaky stairs, Hurstwood looked back and saw the +captain, watching; the last one of the line being included in his broad +solicitude. Then he gathered his cloak about him and strolled out into +the night.</p> + +<p>"I can't stand much of this," said Hurstwood, whose legs ached him +painfully, as he sat down upon the miserable bunk in the small, +lightless chamber allotted to him. "I've got to eat, or I'll die."<a name="page_526" id="page_526"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI<br /><br /> +<small>STIRRING TROUBLED WATERS</small></h2> + +<p>Playing in New York one evening on this her return, Carrie was putting +the finishing touches to her toilet before leaving for the night, when a +commotion near the stage door caught her ear. It included a familiar +voice.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, now. I want to see Miss Madenda."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to send in your card."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come off! Here."</p> + +<p>A half-dollar was passed over, and now a knock came at her dressing-room +door.</p> + +<p>Carrie opened it.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" said Drouet. "I do swear! Why, how are you? I knew that +was you the moment I saw you."</p> + +<p>Carrie fell back a pace, expecting a most embarrassing conversation.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to shake hands with me? Well, you're a dandy! That's +all right, shake hands."</p> + +<p>Carrie put out her hand, smiling, if for nothing more than the man's +exuberant good-nature. Though older, he was but slightly changed. The +same fine clothes, the same stocky body, the same rosy countenance.</p> + +<p>"That fellow at the door there didn't want to let me in, until I paid +him. I knew it was you, all right. Say, you've got a great show. You do +your part fine. I knew you would. I just happened to be passing to-night +and thought I'd drop in for a few minutes. I saw<a name="page_527" id="page_527"></a> your name on the +programme, but I didn't remember it until you came on the stage. Then it +struck me all at once. Say, you could have knocked me down with a +feather. That's the same name you used out there in Chicago, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Carrie, mildly, overwhelmed by the man's assurance.</p> + +<p>"I knew it was, the moment I saw you. Well, how have you been, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Carrie, lingering in her dressing-room. She was +rather dazed by the assault. "How have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh, fine. I'm here now."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I've been here for six months. I've got charge of a branch here."</p> + +<p>"How nice!"</p> + +<p>"Well, when did you go on the stage, anyhow?" inquired Drouet.</p> + +<p>"About three years ago," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Well, sir, this is the first I've heard of it. I knew +you would, though. I always said you could act—didn't I?"</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you do look great," he said. "I never saw anybody improve so. +You're taller, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh, a little, maybe."</p> + +<p>He gazed at her dress, then at her hair, where a becoming hat was set +jauntily, then into her eyes, which she took all occasion to avert. +Evidently he expected to restore their old friendship at once and +without modification.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, seeing her gather up her purse, handkerchief, and the +like, preparatory to departing,<a name="page_528" id="page_528"></a> "I want you to come out to dinner with +me; won't you? I've got a friend out here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," said Carrie. "Not to-night. I have an early engagement +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Aw, let the engagement go. Come on. I can get rid of him. I want to +have a good talk with you."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Carrie; "I can't. You mustn't ask me any more. I don't +care for a late dinner."</p> + +<p>"Well, come on and have a talk, then, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night," she said, shaking her head. "We'll have a talk some +other time."</p> + +<p>As a result of this, she noticed a shade of thought pass over his face, +as if he were beginning to realise that things were changed. Good-nature +dictated something better than this for one who had always liked her.</p> + +<p>"You come around to the hotel to-morrow," she said, as sort of penance +for error. "You can take dinner with me."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Drouet, brightening. "Where are you stopping?"</p> + +<p>"At the Waldorf," she answered, mentioning the fashionable hostelry then +but newly erected.</p> + +<p>"What time?"</p> + +<p>"Well, come at three," said Carrie, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The next day Drouet called, but it was with no especial delight that +Carrie remembered her appointment. However, seeing him, handsome as +ever, after his kind, and most genially disposed, her doubts as to +whether the dinner would be disagreeable were swept away. He talked as +volubly as ever.</p> + +<p>"They put on a lot of lugs here, don't they?" was his first remark.</p> + +<p>"Yes; they do," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>Genial egotist that he was, he went at once into a detailed account of +his own career.<a name="page_529" id="page_529"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm going to have a business of my own pretty soon," he observed in one +place. "I can get backing for two hundred thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>Carrie listened most good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, suddenly; "where is Hurstwood now?"</p> + +<p>Carrie flushed a little.</p> + +<p>"He's here in New York, I guess," she said. "I haven't seen him for some +time."</p> + +<p>Drouet mused for a moment. He had not been sure until now that the +ex-manager was not an influential figure in the background. He imagined +not; but this assurance relieved him. It must be that Carrie had got rid +of him—as well she ought, he thought.</p> + +<p>"A man always makes a mistake when he does anything like that," he +observed.</p> + +<p>"Like what?" said Carrie, unwitting of what was coming.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know," and Drouet waved her intelligence, as it were, with his +hand.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," she answered. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why that affair in Chicago—the time he left."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you are talking about," said Carrie. Could it be he +would refer so rudely to Hurstwood's flight with her?</p> + +<p>"Oho!" said Drouet, incredulously. "You knew he took ten thousand +dollars with him when he left, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"What!" said Carrie. "You don't mean to say he stole money, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said Drouet, puzzled at her tone, "you knew that, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said Carrie. "Of course I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's funny," said Drouet. "He did, you know. It was in all the +papers."<a name="page_530" id="page_530"></a></p> + +<p>"How much did you say he took?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars. I heard he sent most of it back afterwards, +though."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked vacantly at the richly carpeted floor. A new light was +shining upon all the years since her enforced flight. She remembered now +a hundred things that indicated as much. She also imagined that he took +it on her account. Instead of hatred springing up there was a kind of +sorrow generated. Poor fellow! What a thing to have had hanging over his +head all the time.</p> + +<p>At dinner Drouet, warmed up by eating and drinking and softened in mood, +fancied he was winning Carrie to her old-time good-natured regard for +him. He began to imagine it would not be so difficult to enter into her +life again, high as she was. Ah, what a prize! he thought. How +beautiful, how elegant, how famous! In her theatrical and Waldorf +setting, Carrie was to him the all-desirable.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember how nervous you were that night at the Avery?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled to think of it.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody do better than you did then, Cad," he added +ruefully, as he leaned an elbow on the table; "I thought you and I were +going to get along fine those days."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't talk that way," said Carrie, bringing in the least touch of +coldness.</p> + +<p>"Won't you let me tell you——"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, rising. "Besides, it's time I was getting ready for +the theatre. I'll have to leave you. Come, now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, stay a minute," pleaded Drouet. "You've got plenty of time."</p> + +<p>"No," said Carrie, gently.<a name="page_531" id="page_531"></a></p> + +<p>Reluctantly Drouet gave up the bright table and followed. He saw her to +the elevator and, standing there, said:</p> + +<p>"When do I see you again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, some time, possibly," said Carrie. "I'll be here all summer. +Good-night!"</p> + +<p>The elevator door was open.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" said Drouet, as she rustled in.</p> + +<p>Then he strolled sadly down the hall, all his old longing revived, +because she was now so far off. The merry frou-frou of the place spoke +all of her. He thought himself hardly dealt with. Carrie, however, had +other thoughts.</p> + +<p>That night it was that she passed Hurstwood, waiting at the Casino, +without observing him.</p> + +<p>The next night, walking to the theatre, she encountered him face to +face. He was waiting, more gaunt than ever, determined to see her, if he +had to send in word. At first she did not recognise the shabby, baggy +figure. He frightened her, edging so close, a seemingly hungry stranger.</p> + +<p>"Carrie," he half whispered, "can I have a few words with you?"</p> + +<p>She turned and recognised him on the instant. If there ever had lurked +any feeling in her heart against him, it deserted her now. Still, she +remembered what Drouet said about his having stolen the money.</p> + +<p>"Why, George," she said; "what's the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"I've been sick," he answered. "I've just got out of the hospital. For +God's sake, let me have a little money, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Carrie, her lip trembling in a strong effort to +maintain her composure. "But what's the matter with you, anyhow?"<a name="page_532" id="page_532"></a></p> + +<p>She was opening her purse, and now pulled out all the bills in it—a +five and two twos.</p> + +<p>"I've been sick, I told you," he said, peevishly, almost resenting her +excessive pity. It came hard to him to receive it from such a source.</p> + +<p>"Here," she said. "It's all I have with me."</p> + +<p>"All right," he answered, softly. "I'll give it back to you some day."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked at him, while pedestrians stared at her. She felt the +strain of publicity. So did Hurstwood.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell me what's the matter with you?" she asked, hardly +knowing what to do. "Where are you living?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've got a room down in the Bowery," he answered. "There's no use +trying to tell you here. I'm all right now."</p> + +<p>He seemed in a way to resent her kindly inquiries—so much better had +fate dealt with her.</p> + +<p>"Better go on in," he said. "I'm much obliged, but I won't bother you +any more."</p> + +<p>She tried to answer, but he turned away and shuffled off toward the +east.</p> + +<p>For days this apparition was a drag on her soul before it began to wear +partially away. Drouet called again, but now he was not even seen by +her. His attentions seemed out of place.</p> + +<p>"I'm out," was her reply to the boy.</p> + +<p>So peculiar, indeed, was her lonely, self-withdrawing temper, that she +was becoming an interesting figure in the public eye—she was so quiet +and reserved.</p> + +<p>Not long after the management decided to transfer the show to London. A +second summer season did not seem to promise well here.</p> + +<p>"How would you like to try subduing London?" asked her manager, one +afternoon.<a name="page_533" id="page_533"></a></p> + +<p>"It might be just the other way," said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I think we'll go in June," he answered.</p> + +<p>In the hurry of departure, Hurstwood was forgotten. Both he and Drouet +were left to discover that she was gone. The latter called once, and +exclaimed at the news. Then he stood in the lobby, chewing the ends of +his moustache. At last he reached a conclusion—the old days had gone +for good.</p> + +<p>"She isn't so much," he said; but in his heart of hearts he did not +believe this.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood shifted by curious means through a long summer and fall. A +small job as janitor of a dance hall helped him for a month. Begging, +sometimes going hungry, sometimes sleeping in the park, carried him over +more days. Resorting to those peculiar charities, several of which, in +the press of hungry search, he accidentally stumbled upon, did the rest. +Toward the dead of winter, Carrie came back, appearing on Broadway in a +new play; but he was not aware of it. For weeks he wandered about the +city, begging, while the fire sign, announcing her engagement, blazed +nightly upon the crowded street of amusements. Drouet saw it, but did +not venture in.</p> + +<p>About this time Ames returned to New York. He had made a little success +in the West, and now opened a laboratory in Wooster Street. Of course, +he encountered Carrie through Mrs. Vance; but there was nothing +responsive between them. He thought she was still united to Hurstwood, +until otherwise informed. Not knowing the facts then, he did not profess +to understand, and refrained from comment.</p> + +<p>With Mrs. Vance, he saw the new play, and expressed himself accordingly.</p> + +<p>"She ought not to be in comedy," he said. "I think she could do better +than that."<a name="page_534" id="page_534"></a></p> + +<p>One afternoon they met at the Vances' accidentally, and began a very +friendly conversation. She could hardly tell why the one-time keen +interest in him was no longer with her. Unquestionably, it was because +at that time he had represented something which she did not have; but +this she did not understand. Success had given her the momentary feeling +that she was now blessed with much of which he would approve. As a +matter of fact, her little newspaper fame was nothing at all to him. He +thought she could have done better, by far.</p> + +<p>"You didn't go into comedy-drama, after all?" he said, remembering her +interest in that form of art.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered; "I haven't, so far."</p> + +<p>He looked at her in such a peculiar way that she realised she had +failed. It moved her to add: "I want to, though."</p> + +<p>"I should think you would," he said. "You have the sort of disposition +that would do well in comedy-drama."</p> + +<p>It surprised her that he should speak of disposition. Was she, then, so +clearly in his mind?</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I should judge you were rather sympathetic in your +nature."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled and coloured slightly. He was so innocently frank with her +that she drew nearer in friendship. The old call of the ideal was +sounding.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered, pleased, nevertheless, beyond all +concealment.</p> + +<p>"I saw your play," he remarked. "It's very good."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you liked it."</p> + +<p>"Very good, indeed," he said, "for a comedy."</p> + +<p>This is all that was said at the time, owing to an interruption, but +later they met again. He was sitting<a name="page_535" id="page_535"></a> in a corner after dinner, staring +at the floor, when Carrie came up with another of the guests. Hard work +had given his face the look of one who is weary. It was not for Carrie +to know the thing in it which appealed to her.</p> + +<p>"All alone?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I was listening to the music."</p> + +<p>"I'll be back in a moment," said her companion, who saw nothing in the +inventor.</p> + +<p>Now he looked up in her face, for she was standing a moment, while he +sat.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a pathetic strain?" he inquired, listening.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very," she returned, also catching it, now that her attention was +called.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he added, offering her the chair beside him.</p> + +<p>They listened a few moments in silence, touched by the same feeling, +only hers reached her through the heart. Music still charmed her as in +the old days.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it is about music," she started to say, moved by the +inexplicable longings which surged within her; "but it always makes me +feel as if I wanted something—I——"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied; "I know how you feel."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he turned to considering the peculiarity of her disposition, +expressing her feelings so frankly.</p> + +<p>"You ought not to be melancholy," he said.</p> + +<p>He thought a while, and then went off into a seemingly alien observation +which, however, accorded with their feelings.</p> + +<p>"The world is full of desirable situations, but, unfortunately, we can +occupy but one at a time. It doesn't do us any good to wring our hands +over the far-off things."</p> + +<p>The music ceased and he arose, taking a standing position before her, as +if to rest himself.<a name="page_536" id="page_536"></a></p> + +<p>"Why don't you get into some good, strong comedy-drama?" he said. He was +looking directly at her now, studying her face. Her large, sympathetic +eyes and pain-touched mouth appealed to him as proofs of his judgment.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall," she returned.</p> + +<p>"That's your field," he added.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said; "I do. I don't suppose you're aware of it, but there is +something about your eyes and mouth which fits you for that sort of +work."</p> + +<p>Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously. For the moment, loneliness +deserted her. Here was praise which was keen and analytical.</p> + +<p>"It's in your eyes and mouth," he went on abstractedly. "I remember +thinking, the first time I saw you, that there was something peculiar +about your mouth. I thought you were about to cry."</p> + +<p>"How odd," said Carrie, warm with delight. This was what her heart +craved.</p> + +<p>"Then I noticed that that was your natural look, and to-night I saw it +again. There's a shadow about your eyes, too, which gives your face much +this same character. It's in the depth of them, I think."</p> + +<p>Carrie looked straight into his face, wholly aroused.</p> + +<p>"You probably are not aware of it," he added.</p> + +<p>She looked away, pleased that he should speak thus, longing to be equal +to this feeling written upon her countenance. It unlocked the door to a +new desire.</p> + +<p>She had cause to ponder over this until they met again—several weeks or +more. It showed her she was drifting away from the old ideal which had +filled her in the dressing-rooms of the Avery stage and thereafter, for +a long time. Why had she lost it?</p> + +<p>"I know why you should be a success," he said, another<a name="page_537" id="page_537"></a> time, "if you +had a more dramatic part. I've studied it out——"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, as one pleased with a puzzle, "the expression in your +face is one that comes out in different things. You get the same thing +in a pathetic song, or any picture which moves you deeply. It's a thing +the world likes to see, because it's a natural expression of its +longing."</p> + +<p>Carrie gazed without exactly getting the import of what he meant.</p> + +<p>"The world is always struggling to express itself," he went on. "Most +people are not capable of voicing their feelings. They depend upon +others. That is what genius is for. One man expresses their desires for +them in music; another one in poetry; another one in a play. Sometimes +nature does it in a face—it makes the face representative of all +desire. That's what has happened in your case."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with so much of the import of the thing in his eyes +that she caught it. At least, she got the idea that her look was +something which represented the world's longing. She took it to heart as +a creditable thing, until he added:</p> + +<p>"That puts a burden of duty on you. It so happens that you have this +thing. It is no credit to you—that is, I mean, you might not have had +it. You paid nothing to get it. But now that you have it, you must do +something with it."</p> + +<p>"What?" asked Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I should say, turn to the dramatic field. You have so much sympathy and +such a melodious voice. Make them valuable to others. It will make your +powers endure."</p> + +<p>Carrie did not understand this last. All the rest<a name="page_538" id="page_538"></a> showed her that her +comedy success was little or nothing.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, just this. You have this quality in your eyes and mouth and in +your nature. You can lose it, you know. If you turn away from it and +live to satisfy yourself alone, it will go fast enough. The look will +leave your eyes. Your mouth will change. Your power to act will +disappear. You may think they won't, but they will. Nature takes care of +that."</p> + +<p>He was so interested in forwarding all good causes that he sometimes +became enthusiastic, giving vent to these preachments. Something in +Carrie appealed to him. He wanted to stir her up.</p> + +<p>"I know," she said, absently, feeling slightly guilty of neglect.</p> + +<p>"If I were you," he said, "I'd change."</p> + +<p>The effect of this was like roiling helpless waters. Carrie troubled +over it in her rocking-chair for days.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'll stay in comedy so very much longer," she +eventually remarked to Lola.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why not?" said the latter.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, "I can do better in a serious play."</p> + +<p>"What put that idea in your head?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," she answered; "I've always thought so."</p> + +<p>Still, she did nothing—grieving. It was a long way to this better +thing—or seemed so—and comfort was about her; hence the inactivity and +longing.<a name="page_539" id="page_539"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII<br /><br /> +<small>THE WAY OF THE BEATEN: A HARP IN THE WIND</small></h2> + +<p>In the city, at that time, there were a number of charities similar in +nature to that of the captain's, which Hurstwood now patronised in a +like unfortunate way. One was a convent mission-house of the Sisters of +Mercy in Fifteenth Street—a row of red brick family dwellings, before +the door of which hung a plain wooden contribution box, on which was +painted the statement that every noon a meal was given free to all those +who might apply and ask for aid. This simple announcement was modest in +the extreme, covering, as it did, a charity so broad. Institutions and +charities are so large and so numerous in New York that such things as +this are not often noticed by the more comfortably situated. But to one +whose mind is upon the matter, they grow exceedingly under inspection. +Unless one were looking up this matter in particular, he could have +stood at Sixth Avenue and Fifteenth Street for days around the noon hour +and never have noticed that out of the vast crowd that surged along that +busy thoroughfare there turned out, every few seconds, some +weather-beaten, heavy-footed specimen of humanity, gaunt in countenance +and dilapidated in the matter of clothes. The fact is none the less +true, however, and the colder the day the more apparent it became. Space +and a lack of culinary room in the mission-house, compelled an +arrangement which permitted<a name="page_540" id="page_540"></a> of only twenty-five or thirty eating at one +time, so that a line had to be formed outside and an orderly entrance +effected. This caused a daily spectacle which, however, had become so +common by repetition during a number of years that now nothing was +thought of it. The men waited patiently, like cattle, in the coldest +weather—waited for several hours before they could be admitted. No +questions were asked and no service rendered. They ate and went away +again, some of them returning regularly day after day the winter +through.</p> + +<p>A big, motherly looking woman invariably stood guard at the door during +the entire operation and counted the admissible number. The men moved up +in solemn order. There was no haste and no eagerness displayed. It was +almost a dumb procession. In the bitterest weather this line was to be +found here. Under an icy wind there was a prodigious slapping of hands +and a dancing of feet. Fingers and the features of the face looked as if +severely nipped by the cold. A study of these men in broad light proved +them to be nearly all of a type. They belonged to the class that sit on +the park benches during the endurable days and sleep upon them during +the summer nights. They frequent the Bowery and those down-at-the-heels +East Side streets where poor clothes and shrunken features are not +singled out as curious. They are the men who are in the lodging-house +sitting-rooms during bleak and bitter weather and who swarm about the +cheaper shelters which only open at six in a number of the lower East +Side streets. Miserable food, ill-timed and greedily eaten, had played +havoc with bone and muscle. They were all pale, flabby, sunken-eyed, +hollow-chested, with eyes that glinted and shone and lips that were a +sickly red by contrast. Their hair was but half attended to, their<a name="page_541" id="page_541"></a> ears +anæmic in hue, and their shoes broken in leather and run down at heel +and toe. They were of the class which simply floats and drifts, every +wave of people washing up one, as breakers do driftwood upon a stormy +shore.</p> + +<p>For nearly a quarter of a century, in another section of the city, +Fleischmann, the baker, had given a loaf of bread to any one who would +come for it to the side door of his restaurant at the corner of Broadway +and Tenth Street, at midnight. Every night during twenty years about +three hundred men had formed in line and at the appointed time marched +past the doorway, picked their loaf from a great box placed just +outside, and vanished again into the night. From the beginning to the +present time there had been little change in the character or number of +these men. There were two or three figures that had grown familiar to +those who had seen this little procession pass year after year. Two of +them had missed scarcely a night in fifteen years. There were about +forty, more or less, regular callers. The remainder of the line was +formed of strangers. In times of panic and unusual hardships there were +seldom more than three hundred. In times of prosperity, when little is +heard of the unemployed, there were seldom less. The same number, winter +and summer, in storm or calm, in good times and bad, held this +melancholy midnight rendezvous at Fleischmann's bread box.</p> + +<p>At both of these two charities, during the severe winter which was now +on, Hurstwood was a frequent visitor. On one occasion it was peculiarly +cold, and finding no comfort in begging about the streets, he waited +until noon before seeking this free offering to the poor. Already, at +eleven o'clock of this morning, several such as he had shambled forward +out of Sixth<a name="page_542" id="page_542"></a> Avenue, their thin clothes flapping and fluttering in the +wind. They leaned against the iron railing which protects the walls of +the Ninth Regiment Armory, which fronts upon that section of Fifteenth +Street, having come early in order to be first in. Having an hour to +wait, they at first lingered at a respectful distance; but others coming +up, they moved closer in order to protect their right of precedence. To +this collection Hurstwood came up from the west out of Seventh Avenue +and stopped close to the door, nearer than all the others. Those who had +been waiting before him, but farther away, now drew near, and by a +certain stolidity of demeanour, no words being spoken, indicated that +they were first.</p> + +<p>Seeing the opposition to his action, he looked sullenly along the line, +then moved out, taking his place at the foot. When order had been +restored, the animal feeling of opposition relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Must be pretty near noon," ventured one.</p> + +<p>"It is," said another. "I've been waiting nearly an hour."</p> + +<p>"Gee, but it's cold!"</p> + +<p>They peered eagerly at the door, where all must enter. A grocery man +drove up and carried in several baskets of eatables. This started some +words upon grocery men and the cost of food in general.</p> + +<p>"I see meat's gone up," said one.</p> + +<p>"If there wuz war, it would help this country a lot."</p> + +<p>The line was growing rapidly. Already there were fifty or more, and +those at the head, by their demeanour, evidently congratulated +themselves upon not having so long to wait as those at the foot. There +was much jerking of heads, and looking down the line.</p> + +<p>"It don't matter how near you get to the front, so long as you're in the +first twenty-five," commented one of the first twenty-five. "You all go +in together."<a name="page_543" id="page_543"></a></p> + +<p>"Humph!" ejaculated Hurstwood, who had been so sturdily displaced.</p> + +<p>"This here Single Tax is the thing," said another. "There ain't going to +be no order till it comes."</p> + +<p>For the most part there was silence; gaunt men shuffling, glancing, and +beating their arms.</p> + +<p>At last the door opened and the motherly-looking sister appeared. She +only looked an order. Slowly the line moved up and, one by one, passed +in, until twenty-five were counted. Then she interposed a stout arm, and +the line halted, with six men on the steps. Of these the ex-manager was +one. Waiting thus, some talked, some ejaculated concerning the misery of +it; some brooded, as did Hurstwood. At last he was admitted, and, having +eaten, came away, almost angered because of his pains in getting it.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock of another evening, perhaps two weeks later, he was at +the midnight offering of a loaf—waiting patiently. It had been an +unfortunate day with him, but now he took his fate with a touch of +philosophy. If he could secure no supper, or was hungry late in the +evening, here was a place he could come. A few minutes before twelve, a +great box of bread was pushed out, and exactly on the hour a portly, +round-faced German took position by it, calling "Ready." The whole line +at once moved forward, each taking his loaf in turn and going his +separate way. On this occasion, the ex-manager ate his as he went, +plodding the dark streets in silence to his bed.</p> + +<p>By January he had about concluded that the game was up with him. Life +had always seemed a precious thing, but now constant want and weakened +vitality had made the charms of earth rather dull and inconspicuous. +Several times, when fortune pressed most harshly, he thought he would +end his troubles; but with<a name="page_544" id="page_544"></a> a change of weather, or the arrival of a +quarter or a dime, his mood would change, and he would wait. Each day he +would find some old paper lying about and look into it, to see if there +was any trace of Carrie, but all summer and fall he had looked in vain. +Then he noticed that his eyes were beginning to hurt him, and this +ailment rapidly increased until, in the dark chambers of the lodgings he +frequented, he did not attempt to read. Bad and irregular eating was +weakening every function of his body. The one recourse left him was to +doze when a place offered and he could get the money to occupy it.</p> + +<p>He was beginning to find, in his wretched clothing and meagre state of +body, that people took him for a chronic type of bum and beggar. Police +hustled him along, restaurant and lodging-house keepers turned him out +promptly the moment he had his due; pedestrians waved him off. He found +it more and more difficult to get anything from anybody.</p> + +<p>At last he admitted to himself that the game was up. It was after a long +series of appeals to pedestrians, in which he had been refused and +refused—every one hastening from contact.</p> + +<p>"Give me a little something, will you, mister?" he said to the last one. +"For God's sake, do; I'm starving."</p> + +<p>"Aw, get out," said the man, who happened to be a common type himself. +"You're no good. I'll give you nawthin'."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood put his hands, red from cold, down in his pockets. Tears came +into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he said; "I'm no good now. I was all right. I had money. +I'm going to quit this," and, with death in his heart, he started down +toward the Bowery. People had turned on the gas before and died;<a name="page_545" id="page_545"></a> why +shouldn't he? He remembered a lodging-house where there were little, +close rooms, with gas-jets in them, almost pre-arranged, he thought, for +what he wanted to do, which rented for fifteen cents. Then he remembered +that he had no fifteen cents.</p> + +<p>On the way he met a comfortable-looking gentleman, coming, clean-shaven, +out of a fine barber shop.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind giving me a little something?" he asked this man boldly.</p> + +<p>The gentleman looked him over and fished for a dime. Nothing but +quarters were in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, handing him one, to be rid of him. "Be off, now."</p> + +<p>Hurstwood moved on, wondering. The sight of the large, bright coin +pleased him a little. He remembered that he was hungry and that he could +get a bed for ten cents. With this, the idea of death passed, for the +time being, out of his mind. It was only when he could get nothing but +insults that death seemed worth while.</p> + +<p>One day, in the middle of the winter, the sharpest spell of the season +set in. It broke grey and cold in the first day, and on the second +snowed. Poor luck pursuing him, he had secured but ten cents by +nightfall, and this he had spent for food. At evening he found himself +at the Boulevard and Sixty-seventh Street, where he finally turned his +face Bowery-ward. Especially fatigued because of the wandering +propensity which had seized him in the morning, he now half dragged his +wet feet, shuffling the soles upon the sidewalk. An old, thin coat was +turned up about his red ears—his cracked derby hat was pulled down +until it turned them outward. His hands were in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"I'll just go down Broadway," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>When he reached Forty-second Street, the fire signs<a name="page_546" id="page_546"></a> were already +blazing brightly. Crowds were hastening to dine. Through bright windows, +at every corner, might be seen gay companies in luxuriant restaurants. +There were coaches and crowded cable cars.</p> + +<p>In his weary and hungry state, he should never have come here. The +contrast was too sharp. Even he was recalled keenly to better things.</p> + +<p>"What's the use?" he thought. "It's all up with me. I'll quit this."</p> + +<p>People turned to look after him, so uncouth was his shambling figure. +Several officers followed him with their eyes, to see that he did not +beg of anybody.</p> + +<p>Once he paused in an aimless, incoherent sort of way and looked through +the windows of an imposing restaurant, before which blazed a fire sign, +and through the large, plate windows of which could be seen the red and +gold decorations, the palms, the white napery, and shining glassware, +and, above all, the comfortable crowd. Weak as his mind had become, his +hunger was sharp enough to show the importance of this. He stopped stock +still, his frayed trousers soaking in the slush, and peered foolishly +in.</p> + +<p>"Eat," he mumbled. "That's right, eat. Nobody else wants any."</p> + +<p>Then his voice dropped even lower, and his mind half lost the fancy it +had.</p> + +<p>"It's mighty cold," he said. "Awful cold."</p> + +<p>At Broadway and Thirty-ninth Street was blazing, in incandescent fire, +Carrie's name. "Carrie Madenda," it read, "and the Casino Company." All +the wet, snowy sidewalk was bright with this radiated fire. It was so +bright that it attracted Hurstwood's gaze. He looked up, and then at a +large, gilt-framed poster-board, on which was a fine lithograph of +Carrie, life-size.<a name="page_547" id="page_547"></a></p> + +<p>Hurstwood gazed at it a moment, snuffling and hunching one shoulder, as +if something were scratching him. He was so run down, however, that his +mind was not exactly clear.</p> + +<p>"That's you," he said at last, addressing her. "Wasn't good enough for +you, was I? Huh!"</p> + +<p>He lingered, trying to think logically. This was no longer possible with +him.</p> + +<p>"She's got it," he said, incoherently, thinking of money. "Let her give +me some."</p> + +<p>He started around to the side door. Then he forgot what he was going for +and paused, pushing his hands deeper to warm the wrists. Suddenly it +returned. The stage door! That was it.</p> + +<p>He approached that entrance and went in.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the attendant, staring at him. Seeing him pause, he went +over and shoved him. "Get out of here," he said.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Miss Madenda," he said.</p> + +<p>"You do, eh?" the other said, almost tickled at the spectacle. "Get out +of here," and he shoved him again. Hurstwood had no strength to resist.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Miss Madenda," he tried to explain, even as he was being +hustled away. "I'm all right. I——"</p> + +<p>The man gave him a last push and closed the door. As he did so, +Hurstwood slipped and fell in the snow. It hurt him, and some vague +sense of shame returned. He began to cry and swear foolishly.</p> + +<p>"God damned dog!" he said. "Damned old cur," wiping the slush from his +worthless coat. "I—I hired such people as you once."</p> + +<p>Now a fierce feeling against Carrie welled up—just one fierce, angry +thought before the whole thing slipped out of his mind.<a name="page_548" id="page_548"></a></p> + +<p>"She owes me something to eat," he said. "She owes it to me."</p> + +<p>Hopelessly he turned back into Broadway again and slopped onward and +away, begging, crying, losing track of his thoughts, one after another, +as a mind decayed and disjointed is wont to do.</p> + +<p>It was truly a wintry evening, a few days later, when his one distinct +mental decision was reached. Already, at four o'clock, the sombre hue of +night was thickening the air. A heavy snow was falling—a fine picking, +whipping snow, borne forward by a swift wind in long, thin lines. The +streets were bedded with it—six inches of cold, soft carpet, churned to +a dirty brown by the crush of teams and the feet of men. Along Broadway +men picked their way in ulsters and umbrellas. Along the Bowery, men +slouched through it with collars and hats pulled over their ears. In the +former thoroughfare business men and travellers were making for +comfortable hotels. In the latter, crowds on cold errands shifted past +dingy stores, in the deep recesses of which lights were already +gleaming. There were early lights in the cable cars, whose usual clatter +was reduced by the mantle about the wheels. The whole city was muffled +by this fast-thickening mantle.</p> + +<p>In her comfortable chambers at the Waldorf, Carrie was reading at this +time "Père Goriot," which Ames had recommended to her. It was so strong, +and Ames's mere recommendation had so aroused her interest, that she +caught nearly the full sympathetic significance of it. For the first +time, it was being borne in upon her how silly and worthless had been +her earlier reading, as a whole. Becoming wearied, however, she yawned +and came to the window, looking out upon the old winding procession of +carriages rolling up Fifth Avenue.<a name="page_549" id="page_549"></a></p> + +<p>"Isn't it bad?" she observed to Lola.</p> + +<p>"Terrible!" said that little lady, joining her. "I hope it snows enough +to go sleigh riding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," said Carrie, with whom the sufferings of Father Goriot were +still keen. "That's all you think of. Aren't you sorry for the people +who haven't anything to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am," said Lola; "but what can I do? I haven't anything."</p> + +<p>Carrie smiled.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't care, if you had," she returned.</p> + +<p>"I would, too," said Lola. "But people never gave me anything when I was +hard up."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it just awful?" said Carrie, studying the winter's storm.</p> + +<p>"Look at that man over there," laughed Lola, who had caught sight of +some one falling down. "How sheepish men look when they fall, don't +they?"</p> + +<p>"We'll have to take a coach to-night," answered Carrie, absently.</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p>In the lobby of the Imperial, Mr. Charles Drouet was just arriving, +shaking the snow from a very handsome ulster. Bad weather had driven him +home early and stirred his desire for those pleasures which shut out the +snow and gloom of life. A good dinner, the company of a young woman, and +an evening at the theatre were the chief things for him.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Harry!" he said, addressing a lounger in one of the +comfortable lobby chairs. "How are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about six and six," said the other.</p> + +<p>"Rotten weather, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say," said the other. "I've been just sitting here +thinking where I'd go to-night."<a name="page_550" id="page_550"></a></p> + +<p>"Come along with me," said Drouet. "I can introduce you to something +dead swell."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" said the other.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a couple of girls over here in Fortieth Street. We could have a +dandy time. I was just looking for you."</p> + +<p>"Supposing we get 'em and take 'em out to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Drouet. "Wait'll I go upstairs and change my clothes."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be in the barber shop," said the other. "I want to get a +shave."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Drouet, creaking off in his good shoes toward the +elevator. The old butterfly was as light on the wing as ever.</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p>On an incoming vestibuled Pullman, speeding at forty miles an hour +through the snow of the evening, were three others, all related.</p> + +<p>"First call for dinner in the dining-car," a Pullman servitor was +announcing, as he hastened through the aisle in snow-white apron and +jacket.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I want to play any more," said the youngest, a +black-haired beauty, turned supercilious by fortune, as she pushed a +euchre hand away from her.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go into dinner?" inquired her husband, who was all that fine +raiment can make.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not yet," she answered. "I don't want to play any more, though."</p> + +<p>"Jessica," said her mother, who was also a study in what good clothing +can do for age, "push that pin down in your tie—it's coming up."</p> + +<p>Jessica obeyed, incidentally touching at her lovely hair and looking at +a little jewel-faced watch. Her husband studied her, for beauty, even +cold, is fascinating from one point of view.<a name="page_551" id="page_551"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, we won't have much more of this weather," he said. "It only takes +two weeks to get to Rome."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hurstwood nestled comfortably in her corner and smiled. It was so +nice to be the mother-in-law of a rich young man—one whose financial +state had borne her personal inspection.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose the boat will sail promptly?" asked Jessica, "if it +keeps up like this?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered her husband. "This won't make any difference."</p> + +<p>Passing down the aisle came a very fair-haired banker's son, also of +Chicago, who had long eyed this supercilious beauty. Even now he did not +hesitate to glance at her, and she was conscious of it. With a specially +conjured show of indifference, she turned her pretty face wholly away. +It was not wifely modesty at all. By so much was her pride satisfied.</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p>At this moment Hurstwood stood before a dirty four-story building in a +side street quite near the Bowery, whose one-time coat of buff had been +changed by soot and rain. He mingled with a crowd of men—a crowd which +had been, and was still, gathering by degrees.</p> + +<p>It began with the approach of two or three, who hung about the closed +wooden doors and beat their feet to keep them warm. They had on faded +derby hats with dents in them. Their misfit coats were heavy with melted +snow and turned up at the collars. Their trousers were mere bags, frayed +at the bottom and wobbling over big, soppy shoes, torn at the sides and +worn almost to shreds. They made no effort to go in, but shifted +ruefully about, digging their hands deep in their pockets and leering at +the crowd and the increasing lamps. With the minutes, increased the +number. There were old men with grizzled beards and sunken eyes,<a name="page_552" id="page_552"></a> men +who were comparatively young but shrunken by diseases, men who were +middle-aged. None were fat. There was a face in the thick of the +collection which was as white as drained veal. There was another red as +brick. Some came with thin, rounded shoulders; others with wooden legs, +still others with frames so lean that clothes only flapped about them. +There were great ears, swollen noses, thick lips, and, above all, red, +blood-shot eyes. Not a normal, healthy face in the whole mass; not a +straight figure; not a straightforward, steady glance.</p> + +<p>In the drive of the wind and sleet they pushed in on one another. There +were wrists, unprotected by coat or pocket, which were red with cold. +There were ears, half covered by every conceivable semblance of a hat, +which still looked stiff and bitten. In the snow they shifted, now one +foot, now another, almost rocking in unison.</p> + +<p>With the growth of the crowd about the door came a murmur. It was not +conversation, but a running comment directed at any one in general. It +contained oaths and slang phrases.</p> + +<p>"By damn, I wish they'd hurry up."</p> + +<p>"Look at the copper watchin'."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it ain't winter, nuther!"</p> + +<p>"I wisht I was in Sing Sing."</p> + +<p>Now a sharper lash of wind cut down and they huddled closer. It was an +edging, shifting, pushing throng. There was no anger, no pleading, no +threatening words. It was all sullen endurance, unlightened by either +wit or good fellowship.</p> + +<p>A carriage went jingling by with some reclining figure in it. One of the +men nearest the door saw it.</p> + +<p>"Look at the bloke ridin'."</p> + +<p>"He ain't so cold."<a name="page_553" id="page_553"></a></p> + +<p>"Eh, eh, eh!" yelled another, the carriage having long since passed out +of hearing.</p> + +<p>Little by little the night crept on. Along the walk a crowd turned out +on its way home. Men and shop-girls went by with quick steps. The +cross-town cars began to be crowded. The gas lamps were blazing, and +every window bloomed ruddy with a steady flame. Still the crowd hung +about the door, unwavering.</p> + +<p>"Ain't they ever goin' to open up?" queried a hoarse voice, +suggestively.</p> + +<p>This seemed to renew the general interest in the closed door, and many +gazed in that direction. They looked at it as dumb brutes look, as dogs +paw and whine and study the knob. They shifted and blinked and muttered, +now a curse, now a comment. Still they waited and still the snow whirled +and cut them with biting flakes. On the old hats and peaked shoulders it +was piling. It gathered in little heaps and curves and no one brushed it +off. In the centre of the crowd the warmth and steam melted it, and +water trickled off hat rims and down noses, which the owners could not +reach to scratch. On the outer rim the piles remained unmelted. +Hurstwood, who could not get in the centre, stood with head lowered to +the weather and bent his form.</p> + +<p>A light appeared through the transom overhead. It sent a thrill of +possibility through the watchers. There was a murmur of recognition. At +last the bars grated inside and the crowd pricked up its ears. Footsteps +shuffled within and it murmured again. Some one called: "Slow up there, +now," and then the door opened. It was push and jam for a minute, with +grim, beast silence to prove its quality, and then it melted inward, +like logs floating, and disappeared. There were wet hats and wet +shoulders, a cold, shrunken, disgruntled mass,<a name="page_554" id="page_554"></a> pouring in between bleak +walls. It was just six o'clock and there was supper in every hurrying +pedestrian's face. And yet no supper was provided here—nothing but +beds.</p> + +<p>Hurstwood laid down his fifteen cents and crept off with weary steps to +his allotted room. It was a dingy affair—wooden, dusty, hard. A small +gas-jet furnished sufficient light for so rueful a corner.</p> + +<p>"Hm!" he said, clearing his throat and locking the door.</p> + +<p>Now he began leisurely to take off his clothes, but stopped first with +his coat, and tucked it along the crack under the door. His vest he +arranged in the same place. His old wet, cracked hat he laid softly upon +the table. Then he pulled off his shoes and lay down.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if he thought a while, for now he arose and turned the gas +out, standing calmly in the blackness, hidden from view. After a few +moments, in which he reviewed nothing, but merely hesitated, he turned +the gas on again, but applied no match. Even then he stood there, hidden +wholly in that kindness which is night, while the uprising fumes filled +the room. When the odour reached his nostrils, he quit his attitude and +fumbled for the bed.</p> + +<p>"What's the use?" he said, weakly, as he stretched himself to rest.</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p>And now Carrie had attained that which in the beginning seemed life's +object, or, at least, such fraction of it as human beings ever attain of +their original desires. She could look about on her gowns and carriage, +her furniture and bank account. Friends there were, as the world takes +it—those who would bow and smile in acknowledgment of her success. For +these she had<a name="page_555" id="page_555"></a> once craved. Applause there was, and publicity—once far +off, essential things, but now grown trivial and indifferent. Beauty +also—her type of loveliness—and yet she was lonely. In her +rocking-chair she sat, when not otherwise engaged—singing and dreaming.</p> + +<p>Thus in life there is ever the intellectual and the emotional +nature—the mind that reasons, and the mind that feels. Of one come the +men of action—generals and statesmen; of the other, the poets and +dreamers—artists all.</p> + +<p>As harps in the wind, the latter respond to every breath of fancy, +voicing in their moods all the ebb and flow of the ideal.</p> + +<p>Man has not yet comprehended the dreamer any more than he has the ideal. +For him the laws and morals of the world are unduly severe. Ever +hearkening to the sound of beauty, straining for the flash of its +distant wings, he watches to follow, wearying his feet in travelling. So +watched Carrie, so followed, rocking and singing.</p> + +<p>And it must be remembered that reason had little part in this. Chicago +dawning, she saw the city offering more of loveliness than she had ever +known, and instinctively, by force of her moods alone, clung to it. In +fine raiment and elegant surroundings, men seemed to be contented. +Hence, she drew near these things. Chicago, New York; Drouet, Hurstwood; +the world of fashion and the world of stage—these were but incidents. +Not them, but that which they represented, she longed for. Time proved +the representation false.</p> + +<p>Oh, the tangle of human life! How dimly as yet we see. Here was Carrie, +in the beginning poor, unsophisticated, emotional; responding with +desire to everything most lovely in life, yet finding herself turned as +by a wall. Laws to say: "Be allured, if you<a name="page_556" id="page_556"></a> will, by everything lovely, +but draw not nigh unless by righteousness." Convention to say: "You +shall not better your situation save by honest labour." If honest labour +be unremunerative and difficult to endure; if it be the long, long road +which never reaches beauty, but wearies the feet and the heart; if the +drag to follow beauty be such that one abandons the admired way, taking +rather the despised path leading to her dreams quickly, who shall cast +the first stone? Not evil, but longing for that which is better, more +often directs the steps of the erring. Not evil, but goodness more often +allures the feeling mind unused to reason.</p> + +<p>Amid the tinsel and shine of her state walked Carrie, unhappy. As when +Drouet took her, she had thought: "Now am I lifted into that which is +best"; as when Hurstwood seemingly offered her the better way: "Now am I +happy." But since the world goes its way past all who will not partake +of its folly, she now found herself alone. Her purse was open to him +whose need was greatest. In her walks on Broadway, she no longer thought +of the elegance of the creatures who passed her. Had they more of that +peace and beauty which glimmered afar off, then were they to be envied.</p> + +<p>Drouet abandoned his claim and was seen no more. Of Hurstwood's death +she was not even aware. A slow, black boat setting out from the pier at +Twenty-seventh Street upon its weekly errand bore, with many others, his +nameless body to the Potter's Field.</p> + +<p>Thus passed all that was of interest concerning these twain in their +relation to her. Their influence upon her life is explicable alone by +the nature of her longings. Time was when both represented for her all +that was most potent in earthly success. They were the personal +representatives of a state most blessed to attain—the titled +ambassadors of comfort and peace,<a name="page_557" id="page_557"></a> aglow with their credentials. It is +but natural that when the world which they represented no longer allured +her, its ambassadors should be discredited. Even had Hurstwood returned +in his original beauty and glory, he could not now have allured her. She +had learned that in his world, as in her own present state, was not +happiness.</p> + +<p>Sitting alone, she was now an illustration of the devious ways by which +one who feels, rather than reasons, may be led in the pursuit of beauty. +Though often disillusioned, she was still waiting for that halcyon day +when she should be led forth among dreams become real. Ames had pointed +out a farther step, but on and on beyond that, if accomplished, would +lie others for her. It was forever to be the pursuit of that radiance of +delight which tints the distant hilltops of the world.</p> + +<p>Oh, Carrie, Carrie! Oh, blind strivings of the human heart! Onward, +onward, it saith, and where beauty leads, there it follows. Whether it +be the tinkle of a lone sheep bell o'er some quiet landscape, or the +glimmer of beauty in sylvan places, or the show of soul in some passing +eye, the heart knows and makes answer, following. It is when the feet +weary and hope seems vain that the heartaches and the longings arise. +Know, then, that for you is neither surfeit nor content. In your +rocking-chair, by your window dreaming, shall you long, alone. In your +rocking-chair, by your window, shall you dream such happiness as you may +never feel.</p> + +<p class="c">THE END</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="transcriber note" +style="margin:5% auto 5% auto; text-align:center;border:2px dotted gray;"> +<tr><td>The following typographical errors have been corrected by the etext transcriber:</td></tr> +<tr><td>His put his hand familiarly on her shoulder=>He put his hand familiarlyn her shoulder</td></tr> +<tr><td>meropolitan=>metropolitan</td></tr> +<tr><td>semed life's object=>seemed life's object</td></tr> +<tr><td>Are we going to McVicker's Monday=>Are we going to McVickar's Monday</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SISTER CARRIE *** + +***** This file should be named 5267-h.htm or 5267-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/5267/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (from scanned +pages available at the Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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