Sister Carrie 17 страница

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now and be quiet? I'll not bother you. I don't want to stay here any

longer. "

Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. She was so

overcome she could not speak.

" 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. "

He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, under the

influence of his plea.

" You stay here now, and I'll go, " he added at last.

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 favor, 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 fibers--an anchorless, storm-beaten

little craft which could do absolutely nothing but drift.

" Say, " said Drouet, coming over to her after a few moments, with a new

idea, and putting his hand upon her.

" Don't! " said Carrie, drawing away, but not removing her handkerchief

from her eyes. " 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? "

Carrie made no answer.

" You'd better do that, " he said. " There's no use your packing up now.

You can't go anywhere. "

Still he got nothing for his words.

" If you'll do that, we'll call it off for the present and I'll get

out. "

Carrie lowered her handkerchief slightly and looked out of the window.

" Will you do that? " he asked.

Still no answer.

" Will you? " he repeated.

She only looked vaguely into the street.

" Aw! come on, " he said, " tell me. Will you? "

" I don't know, " said Carrie softly, forced to answer.

" Promise me you'll do that, " he said, " and we'll quit talking about it.

It'll be the best thing for you. "

Carrie heard him, but she could not bring herself to 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.

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.

" Will you? " he urged.

" Well, I'll see, " said Carrie.

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.

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.

All this she thought of as Drouet rummaged the drawers for collars and

labored long and painstakingly at finding a shirt stud. He was in no

hurry to rush this matter. 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.

" Do you think, " he said, after a few moments' silence, " that you'll try

and get on the stage? "

He was wondering what she was intending.

" I don't know what I'll do yet, " said Carrie.

" If you do, maybe I can help you. I've got a lot of friends in that

line. "

She made no answer to this.

" 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. "

Carrie only rocked back and forth in her chair.

" I don't want you to go up against a hard game that way. "

He bestirred himself about some other details and Carrie rocked on.

" 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? "

" Why do you want to start on that again? " said Carrie. " You were to

blame. "

" No, I wasn't, " he answered.

" Yes, you were, too, " said Carrie. " You shouldn't have ever told me

such a story as that. "

" 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.

" I won't talk about it, " said Carrie, pained at the quizzical turn the

peace arrangement had taken.

" 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. "

" I won't, " said Carrie, feeling no refuge but in anger. " Whatever has

happened is your own fault. "

" Then you do care for him? " said Drouet, stopping completely and

experiencing a rush of feeling.

" Oh, stop! " said Carrie. " 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! "

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.

" 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.

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.

Chapter XXIV

ASHES OF TINDER--A FACE AT THE WINDOW

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.

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.

Hurstwood walked the floor, mentally arranging the chief points of his

situation. " She has that property in her name, " he kept saying to

himself. " What a fool trick that was. Curse it! What a fool move that

was. "

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.

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.

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.

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 have a pot of coffee and some rolls. While

the danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialized, 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.

His spirits fell, however, when, upon reaching the park, he waited and

waited and Carrie did not come. He held his favorite 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.

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.

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.

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.

" I'm to bring an answer, " said the boy.

Hurstwood recognized 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.

" 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. "

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.

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.

" 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! "

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 were hidden in the pockets of the

umbrella less; 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.

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.

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.

He put on his hat and looked around for his umbrella. He would have

some arrangement of this thing.

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?

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. 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 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.

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.

" I guess they've gone out, " he said apologetically to the individual

who was hiding his red face in a loose tarpaulin raincoat.

" I saw a young girl up in that winder, " returned the cabby.

Hurstwood looked, but there was no face there now. He climbed moodily

into the cab, relieved and distressed.

So this was the game, was it? Shut him out and make him pay. Well, by

the Lord, that did beat all!

Chapter XXV

ASHES OF TINDER--THE LOOSING OF STAYS

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 realize how it had all come about. It seemed a monstrous,

unnatural, unwarranted condition which had suddenly descended upon him

without his let or hindrance.

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.

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

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.

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.

Then he called Harry, the boy of all work around the place.

" You take this to this address, " he said, handing him the envelope,

" and give it to Mrs. Hurstwood. "

" Yes, sir, " said the boy.

" If she isn't there bring it back. "

" Yes, sir"

" You've seen my wife? " he asked as a precautionary measure as the boy

turned to go.

" Oh, yes, sir. I know her. "

" All right, now. Hurry right back. "

" Any answer? "

" I guess not. "

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.

For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with a few friends who

were drinking. He tried to get the interest 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.

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.

" Well? " said Hurstwood.

" I gave it to her. "

" My wife? "

" Yes, sir. "

" Any answer? "

" She said it was high time. "

Hurstwood scowled fiercely.

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. 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.

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.

This process of THINKING 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, 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?

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.

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.

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.

He read it through carefully several times, and then merely shook his

head. It seemed as if his family troubles were just beginning.

" Well! " he said after a time, quite audibly, " I don't know. "

Then he folded it up and put it in his pocket.

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.

Suddenly he thought: " Supposing she isn't out there--suppose she has

gone? "

He was forced to take his feet. It was too much to think of and sit

still.

Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing.

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

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