SISTER CARRIE

Chapter ITHE MAGNET ATTRACTING: A WIFE AMID FORCES

When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her totaloutfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skinsatchel, 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 inVan Buren Street, and four dollar in money. It was in August, 1889. Shewas eighteen years or age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions ofignorance and youth. Whatever touch of regret at parting characterizedher given up. A gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, mill whereher father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh as the familiar greenenvirons of the village passed in review and the threads which boundher so lightly to girlhood and home were irretrievably broken. 

To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descendand return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these verytrains 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 hundredmiles? She looked at the little slip bearing her sister's address andwondered. She gazed at the green landscape, now passing in swift reviewuntil her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vagueconjectures of what Chicago might be. 

When a girls leaves her home at eighteen, she does one of two things. Either she falls into saving hands and becomes better, or she rapidlyassumes the cosmopolitan standard of virtue and becomes worse. Of anintermediate balance, under the circumstances, there is nopossibility. The city has its cunning wiles, no less than theinfinitely smaller and more human tempter. There are large forces whichallure with all the soul fullness of expression possible in the mostcultured human. The gleam of a thousand lights is often as effective asthe persuasive light in a wooing and fascinating eye. Half the undoingof the unsophisticated and natural mind is accomplished by forceswholly superhuman. A blare of to the astonished scenes in equivocalterms. Without a counselor at hand to whisper cautious interpretationwhat falsehoods may not these things breathe into the unguarded ear!Unrecognized for what they are, their beauty, like music, too oftenrelaxes, then wakens, then perverts the simpler human perceptions. 

Caroline, or Sister Carrie, as she had been half affectionately termedby the family, was possessed of a mind rudimentary in its power ofobservation and analysis. Self-interest with her was high, but notstrong. It was nevertheless, her guiding characteristic. Warm with thefancies of youth, pretty with the insipid prettiness of the formativeperiod, possessed of a figure promising eventual shapeliness and an eyealight with certain native intelligence she was a fair example of themiddle American class two generations removed from the emigrant. Bookswere beyond her interest knowledge a sealed book. In the intuitivegraces she was still crude. She could scarcely toss her headgracefully. Her hands were almost ineffectual. The feet, though smallwere set flatly. And yet she was interested in her charms, quick tounderstand the keener pleasures of life, ambitious to gain in materialthings. A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoiterthe mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-offsupremacy, which should make it prey and subject the proper penitent, groveling at a women's slipper. 

"That, " said a voice in her ear, " is one of the prettiest littleresorts in Wisconsin. "

"Is it?" she answered nervously. The train was just pulling out ofWaukesha. For some time she had been conscious of a man behind. Shefelt him observing her mass of hair. He had been fidgeting, and withnatural intuition she felt a certain interest growing in that quarter. Her maidenly reserve, and a certain sense of what was conventionalunder the circumstances, called her to forestall and deny thisfamiliarity, but the daring and magnetism of the individual, born ofpast experience and triumphs, prevailed. She answered. 	He leanedforward to put his elbows upon the back of her seat and proceeded tomake himself volubly agreeable. 

"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?"

"Oh, yes I am, " answered Carrie. "That is, I live at Columbia City. Ihave never been through here, though. "

" And so this is your first visit to Chicago, " he observed. All thetime she was conscious of certain features out of the side of her eye. Flush, colorful cheeks, a light moustache, a gray fedora hat. She nowturned and looked upon him in full, the instincts of self-protectionand coquetry mingling confusedly in her brain. 

" I didn't say that" she said

"Oh, " he answered, in a very pleasing way and with and with an assumedair of mistake, " I though you did. "

Here was a type of the traveling canvasser for a manufacturing house aclass which at that time was first being dubbed by the slang of theday "drummers. " He came within the meaning of a still newer term, whichhad sprung into general use among Americans in 1880, and whichconcisely expressed the though of one whose dress or manners arecalculated 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 lowcrotch of the vest revealed a stiff bosom of white and pink stripes. From his coat sleeves protruded a pair of linen cuffs of the samepattern, fastened with large, gold plate buttons, set with the commonyellow agates known as "cat's-eyes. " His finger bore several rings one, the ever-ending heavy seal and from his vest dangled a neat gold watchchain, from which was suspended the secret insignia of the Order ofElks. The whole suit was rather tight-fitting, and was finished offwith heavy-soled tan shoes, highly polished, and the gray fedora hat. He was, for the order of intellect represented, attractive, andwhatever he had to recommend him, you may be sure was not lost uponCarrie, in this, her first glance. 

 Lest this order of individual should permanently pass, let me put downsome of the most striking characteristics of his most successful mannerand method. Good clothes, of course, were the first essential, thethings without which he was nothing. A strong physical nature, actuatedby a keen desire for the feminine, was the next. A mind free of anyconsideration of the problems or forces of the world and actuated notby greed, but an insatiable love of variable pleasure. His method wasalways simple. Its principal element was daring backed, of course, byan intense desire and admiration for the sex. Let him meet with a youngwomen once and he would approach her with an air of kindly familiarity, not unmixed with pleading, which would result in most cases in atolerant acceptance. If she showed any tendency to coquetry he would beapt to straighten her tie, or if she "took up" with him at all, to callher by her first name. If he visited a department store it was tolounge familiarly over the counter and ask some leading questions. Inmore exclusive circles, on the train or in waiting stations, he wentslower. If some seemingly vulnerable object appeared he was allattention to pass the compliments of the day to lead the way to theparlor car, carrying her grip, or, failing that, to take a seat nexther with the hope of being able to court her to her destination. Pillows, books, a footstool, the shade lowered; all these figured inthe things which he could do. If, when she reached her destination hedid not alight and attend her baggage for her, it was because, in hisown estimation, he had signally failed. 

A women should some day write the complete philosophy of clothes. Nomatter how young, it is one of the things she wholly comprehends. Thereis an indescribably faint line in the matter of man's apparel, whichsomehow divides for her those who are worth glancing at and those whoare not. Once an individual has passed this faint line on the waydownward he will get no glance from her. There is another line at whichthe dress of a man will cause her to study her own. This line theindividual at her elbow now marked for Carrie. She became conscious ofan inequality. Her own plain blue dress, with its black cotton tapetrimmings, now seemed to her shabby. She felt the worn state of hershoes. 

"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. "

"Oh, do you?" she interrupted; aroused by memories of longings theirshow windows had cost her. 

At last he had a clew to her interest, and followed it deftly. In a fewminutes he had come about into her seat. He talked of sales ofclothing, his travels, Chicago, and the amusements of that city. 

"If you are going there, you will enjoy it immensely. Have yourelatives?"

"I am going to visit my sister, " she explained. 

"You want to see Lincoln Park, " he said, "and Michigan Boulevard. Theyare putting up great buildings there. It's a second New York great. Somuch to see theatres, crowds, fine houses oh, you'll like that. "

There was a little ache in her fancy of all he described. Herinsignificance in the presence of so much magnificence faintly affectedher. She realized that hers was not to be a round of pleasure, and yetthere was something promising in all the material prospect he setforth. There was something satisfactory in the attention of thisindividual with his good clothes. She could not help smiling as he toldher of some popular actress of whom she reminded him. She was silly andyet attention of this sort had its weight. 

"You will be in Chicago some little time, won't you?" he observed atone turn of the now easy conversation. "I don't know, " said Carrievaguely a flesh vision of the possibility of her not securingemployment rising in her mind. 

"Several weeks, anyhow, " he said, looking steadily into her eyes. 

There was much more passing now than the mere words indicated. Herecognized the indescribable thing that made up for fascination andbeauty in her. She realized that she was of interest to him from theone standpoint, which a women both delights in and fears. Her mannerwas simple, though for the very reason that she had not yet learned themany little affectations with which women conceal their true feelings. Some things she did appeared bold. A clever companion had she ever hadone would have warned her never to look a man in the eyes so steadily. 

"Why do you ask?" she said. 

"Well, I'm going to be there several weeks. I'm going to study stock atour place and get new samples. I might show you around. "

" I don't know whether you can or not. I mean I don't know whether Ican. I shall be living with my sister, and

"Well, if she minds, we'll fix that. " He took out his pencil and alittle pocket notebook as if it were all settled. 

"What is your address there?" She fumbled her purse which contained theaddress slip. 

He reached down in his hip pocket and took out a fat purse. It wasfilled with slip of paper, some mileage books, a roll of greenbacks. Itimpressed her deeply. Such a purse had never been carried by any oneattentive to her. Indeed, and experienced traveler, a brisk man of theworld, had never come within such close range before. The purse, theshiny tan shoes, the smart new suit, and the air with which he didthings, built up for her a dim world of fortune, of which he was thecenter. It disposed her pleasantly toward all he might do. 

He took out a neat business card, on which was engraved Bartlett, Caryoe & Company, and down in the left-hand corner, Chas. H. Druer. 

"That's me, " he said, putting the card in her hand and touching hisname. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father'sside. "

She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letterfrom a bunch in his coat pocket. "This is the house I travel for, " hewent 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 beconnected with such a place, and he made her feel that way. 

"What is your address?" he began again, fixing his pencil to write. 

She looked at his hand. 

"Carrie Meeber, " she said slowly. "Three hundred and fifty-four WestVan Street, care S. C Hanson. "

He wrote it carefully down and got out the purse again. "You'll be athome if I come around Monday night?" he said. 

"I think so" she answered. 

How true it is that words are but the vague shadows of the volumes wemean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudiblefeelings and purposes. Here were these two, bandying little phrases, drawing purses, looking at cards, and both unconscious of howinarticulate all their real feelings were. Neither was wise enough tobe sure of the working of the mind of the other. He could not tell howhis luring succeeded. She could not realize that she was drifting, until he secured her address. Now she felt that she had yieldedsomething he, that he had gained a victory. Already they felt that theywere somehow associated. Already he took control on directing theconversation. His words were easy. Her manner was relaxed. 

They were nearing Chicago. Signs were everywhere numerous. Trainsflashed by them. Across wide stretches of flat, open prairie they couldsee lines of telegraph poles stalking across the fields toward thegreat city. Far away were indications of suburban towns, some bigsmoke-stacks towering high in the air. 

Frequently there were two-story frame houses standing out in the openfields, without fences or trees, lone outposts of the approaching armyof homes. 

To the child, the genius with imagination, of the wholly untraveled, the approach to a great city for the first time is a wondering thing. Particularly if it be evening that mystic period between the glare andgloom of the world when life is changing from one sphere or conditionto another. Ah, the promise of the night. What does it not hold for theweary! What old illusion of hope is not here forever repeated! Says thesoul of the toiler to itself, "I shall soon be free. I shall be in theways and the hosts of the merry. The streets, the lamps, the lightedchamber set for dining, are for me. The theatre, the halls, theparties, the ways of rest and the paths of song these are mine in thenight. " Though all humanity be still enclosed in the shops, the thrillruns abroad. It is in the air. The dullest feel something which theymay not always express or describe. It is the lifting of the burden oftoil. 

Sister Carrie gazed out of the window. Her companion, affected by herwonder, so contagious are all things, felt a new some interest in thecity and pointed out its marvels. 

"This is Northwest Chicago, " said Drouet. "This is the Chicago River, "and he pointed to a little muddy creek, crowded with the huge mastedwanderers from far off waters nosing the black posted banks. With apuff, a clang, and a clatter of rails it was gone. "Chicago is gettingto be a great town, " he went on. "It's a wonder. You'll find lots tosee here. "

She did not hear this very well. Her heart was troubled by a kind ofterror. The fact that she was alone, away from home, rushing into agreat sea of life and endeavor began to tell. She could not help butfeel a little choked for breath a little sick as her heart beat sofast. She half closed her eyes and tried to think it was nothing, that Columbia City was only a little way off. 

"Chicago! Chicago!" called the brakeman, shamming open the door. Theywere rushing into a more crowded yard, alive with the clatter and clangof life. She began to gather up her poor little grip and closed herhand firmly upon her purse. Drouet arose, kicked his legs to straightenhis trousers, and seized his clean yellow grip. "I suppose your peoplewill be here to meet you?" he said. "Let me carry your grip. "

"Oh, no, " she said. "I'd rather you wouldn't. I'd rather you wouldn'tbe with me when I meet my sister. " "All right, " he said n all kindness. "I'll be near though, in case she isn't here, and take you out theresafely. "

You're so kind, " said Carrie, feeling the goodness of such attention inher strange situation. 

"Chicago!" called the brakeman, drawing the word out long. They wereunder a great shadowy train shed where the lamps were already beginningto shine out, with passenger cars all about and train moving at ssnail's pace. The people in the car were all up and crowding about thedoor. 

" Well, here we are, " said Drouet, leading the way to the door. "Good-bye, till I see you Monday. "

"Good-bye, " she answered, taking his proffered hand. Remember, I'll belooking till you find your sister smiled into his eyes. 

They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced, rather commonplace woman recognized Carrie on the platform and hurriedforward. 

"Why, Sister Carrie!" she began, and there was a perfunctory embrace ofwelcome. 

Carrie realized the change of affect ional atmosphere at once. Amid allthe maze, uproar, and novelty she felt cold reality taking her by thehand. No world of light and merriment. No round of amusement. Hersister carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil. 

"Why, how are all the folks at home?" she began; "how is father, andmother?"

Carrie answered, but was looking away. Down the aisle, toward the gateleading into the waiting-room and the street, stood Drouet. He waslooking back. When he saw that she saw him and was safe with her sisterhe turned to go, sending back the shadow of a smile. Only Carrie sawit. She felt something lost to her when he moved away. When hedisappeared she felt his absence thoroughly. With her sister she wasmuch alone, a lone figure in a tossing, thoughtless sea. 

Chapter IIWHAT POVERTY THREATENED: OF GRANITE AND BRASS

 Minnie's flat, as the one-floor resident apartment were then beingcalled, was in a part of West Van Buren Street inhabited by families oflabourers and clerks, men who had come, and were still coming, with therush of population pouring in at the rate of 50, 000 a year. It was onthe third floor, the front windows looking down into the street, where, at night the lights of grocery stores were shinning and children wereplaying. To Carrie, the sound of the little bells upon the horses-cars, as it was novel. 

She gazed into the lighted street when Minnie brought her into thefront room, and wondered at the sounds, the movement, the murmur of thevast city which stretched for miles and miles in every direction. 

Mrs. Hanson, after the first greetings were over, gave Carrie the babyand proceed to get supper. Her husband asked a few questions and satdown to read the evening paper. He was silent man, American born, of aSwede father, and now employed as a cleaner of refrigerator cars at thestock-yards. To him the presence or absence of his wife's sister was amatter of indifference. Her personal appearance did not affect him oneway or the other. His one observation to the point was concerning thechances of work in Chicago. 

"It's a big place" he said. "You can get in some where in a few days. Everybody does"It had been tacitly understood beforehand that she was to get work andpay her board. He was of a clean, saying disposition, and had alreadypaid a number of monthly installments on two lots far out the WestSide. His ambition was some day to build a house on them. 

 In the interval which marked the preparation of the meal Carrie foundtime to study the flat. She had some slight gift of observation andthat sense, so rich in every women intuition. 

She felt the drag of a lean and narrow life. The walls of the roomswere discordantly papered. The floors were covered with matting and thehall laid with a thin rag carpet. One could see that the furniture wasof that poor, hurriedly patched together quality sold by theinstallment houses. 

 She sat with Minnie, in the kitchen, holding the baby until it beganto cry. Then she walked and sang to it, until Hanson, disturbed in hisreading, 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 hisoffspring. 

"Now, now, " he said, walking. "There, there, " and there was a certainSwedish accent noticeable in his voice

"You'll want to see the city first, won't you?" said Minnie, when theywere eating. "Well, we'll go out Sunday and see Lincoln Park. "

 Carrie noticed that Hanson had said nothing to this He seemed to bethinking of something else. 

"Well, " she said, " I think I'll look around to-morrow I've got Fridayand Saturday, and it won't be any trouble Which way is the businesspart?"

Minnie began to explain, but her husband took this part of theconversation to himself. 

"It's that way, " he said, pointing east. "That's east Then he went offinto the longest speech he had yet indulged in, concerning the lay ofChicago. You'd better look in those big manufacturing houses alongFranklin 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 veryfar. "

Carrie nodded and asked her sister about the neighborhood. The lattertalked in a subdued tone, telling the little she knew about it, whileHanson concerned himself with the baby. Finally he jumped up and handedthe child to his wife. 

"I've got to get up early in the morning, so I'll go to bed, " and offhe went, disappearing into the dark little bedroom off the hall, forthe night. 

"He works way down at the stock-yards, " explained Minnie, "so he's gotto get up at half-past five. "

"What time do you get up to get breakfast?" asked Carrie. 

"At about twenty minutes of five. " Together they finished the labor ofthe day, Carrie washing the dishes while Minnie undressed the baby andput it to bed. Minnie's manner was one of trained industry, and Carriecould see that it was a steady round of toil with her. 

She began to see that her relations with Drouet would have to beabandoned. He could not come here. She read from the manner of Hanson, in the subdued air of Minnie, and, indeed, the whole atmosphere of theflat, a settled opposition to anything save a conservative round oftoil. 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 theyexcept of her? She saw that she would first need to get work andestablish herself company of any sort. Her little flirtation withDrouet seemed now an extraordinary thing. 

No, " she said to herself, "he can't come here. " She asked Minnie forink and paper, which were upon the mantel in the dining-room, and whenthe latter had gone to bed at ten, got out Drouet's card and wrote him. 

" I cannot have you call on me here. You will have to wait until youhear from me again. My sister's place is so small. "

She troubled herself over what else to put in the letter She wanted tomake some reference to their relations upon the train, but was tootimid. She concluded by thanking him for his kindness in a cruded way, then puzzled over the formality of signing her name, and finallydecided upon the severe, winding up with a "Very truly, " which shesubsequently changed to "Sincerely. " She sealed and addressed theletter, and going in the front room, the alcove of which contained herbed, drew the one small rocking-chair up to the open window, and satlooking 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 andwent to bed. 

When she awoke at eight the next morning, Hanson had gone. Her sisterwas 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 hadchanged considerably since Carrie had seen her. She was now a thin, though rugged, women of twenty-seven, with ideas of life colored by herhusband's and fast hardening into narrower conceptions of pleasure andduty than had ever been hers in a thoroughly circumscribed youth. `Shehad invited Carrie, not because she longed for her presence, butbecause the latter was dissatisfied at home, and could probably getwork and pay her board here. She was plead to see her in a way butreflected her husband's point of view in the matter of work. Anythingwas good enough so long as it paid say, five dollars a week to beginwith. A shop girl was the destiny prefigured for the newcomer. Shewould get in one of the great shops and do well enough until somethinghappened. Neither of them knew exactly what. They did not figure onpromotion. 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 rewarded for coming and toiling in the city. It wasunder such auspicious circumstances that she started out this morningto look for work. 

Before following her in her round of seeking, let us look at the spherein which her future was to lie. In 1889 Chicago had the peculiarqualifications of growth which of young girls plausible. Its many andgrowing commercial opportunities gave it widespread fame, which madeof it a giant magnet, drawing to itself, from all quarters, the hopefuland the hapless those who had their fortune yet to make and thosefortunes and affairs had reached a disastrous climax elsewhere. It wasa city of over 500, 000, with the ambition, the daring, the activity ofa metropolis of a million. Its streets and houses were miles. Itspopulation was not so much thriving upon pared prepared for the arrivalof others. The sound of the ham everywhere heard. Great industries weremoving in. The huge railroad corporations which had long beforerecognized the prospects of the place had seized upon vast tracts ofland for transfer and shipping purposes. Street-car lines had beenextended far out into the open country in anticipation of rapidgrowth. The city had laid miles and miles of streets and sewers throughregions where, perhaps, one solitary house stood out alone a pioneerof the populous ways to be. There were regions open to the sweepingwinds and rain, which were yet lighted throughout the night with long, blinking lines of gas-lamps, fluttering in the wind. Narrow boardwalks extended out, passing here a house, and there a store at farintervals, portion was the vast wholesales and shopping district, towhich the uninformed seeker for work usually drifted. It was acharacteristics of Chicago then and one not generally shared by othercities, that individual firms of any pretension occupied individualbuildings. 

The presence of ample ground made this possible. It gave an imposingappearance to most of the wholesales plain view of the street. Thelarge plates of window glass now so common, were them rapidly cominginto use, and gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished andprosperous look. The casual wanderer could see as he passed a polishedarray of office fixtures, much frosted glass clerks hard at work, andgenteel business men in "nobby" suits and clean linen lounging about orsitting in groups. Polished brass or nickel signs at the square stoneentrances announced the firm and the nature of the business in ratherneat and reserved terms. The entire metropolitan center possessed ahigh and mighty air calculated to overawe and abash the commonapplicant, and to make the gulf between poverty and success seem bothwide and deep. 

 Into this important commercial region the timid Carrie went. Shewalked east along Van Buren Street through a region of lesseningimportance, 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 desire to find employment and delayed at every step bythe interest of the unfolding scene, and a sense of helplessness amidso much evidence of power and force which she did not understand. These vast buildings, what were what purposes were they there? Shecould have understood the meaning of a little stone-cutter's yard atColumbia city, carving little pieces of marble for individual use, butwhen the yards of some huge stone corporation came into view, filledwith spur tracks and flat cars, transpierced by docks from the riverand traversed overhead by immense trundling cranes of wood and steel, it lost all significance in her little world. 

It was so with the vast railroad yards, with the crowded array ofvessels she saw at the river, and the huge factories over the way, lining the water's edge. Through the open windows she could see thefigures of men and women in working aprons, moving busily about. Thegreat streets were wall-lined mysterious to her; the vast offices, strange mazes which concerned far-off individuals of importance. Shecould only think of people connected with them as counting money, dressing magnificently, and riding in carriages. What they dealt in, how they labored, to what end it all came, she had only the vaguestconception. 

It was all wonderful, all vast, all far removed, and she sank in spiritinwardly and fluttered feebly at the heart as she though of enteringany one of these mighty concerns and asking for something to dosomething that she could do anything. 

Chapter IIIWE QUESTION OF FORTUNE: FOUR-FIFTY A WEEK

 Once across the river and into the wholesale district she glancedabout her for some likely door at which to apply. As she contemplatedthe wide windows and imposing signs, she became conscious of beinggazed upon and understood for what she was a wage seeker. She had neverdone this thing before, and lacked courage. To avoid a certainindefinable shame she felt at being caught spying about for a position, she quickened her steps and assumed an air of indifference supposedlycommon to one upon an errand. In this way she passed many manufacturingand wholesale houses without once glancing in. At last, after severalblocks of walking, she felt that this would not do, and began to lookabout again though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she sawa great door which, for some reason, attracted her attention. It wasornamented by a small brass sign, and seemed to be the entrance to avast hive of six or seven floors. " Perhaps, " she though, "they maywent some one, " and crossed over to enter. When she came within ascore of feet of the desired goal, she saw through the window a youngman in a gray checked suit. That he had anything to do with theconcern, she could not tell but because he happened to be looking inher direction her weakening heart misgave her and she hurried by, tooovercome with shame to enter. Over the way stood a great six-storystructure, labeled Storm and King, which she viewed with rising hope. It was a wholesale dry goods concern and employed women. She could seethem moving about now and then upon the upper floors. This place shedecided to enter, no matter what. She crossed over and walked directlytoward the entrance. As she did so, two men came out and paused in thedoor. A telegraph messenger in blue dashed past her and up the fewsteps that led to the entrance and disappeared. Several pedestrians outof the hurrying throng which filled the sidewalks passed about her asshe paused, hesitating. She looked helplessly around, and then, seeingherself observed, retreated. It was too difficult a task. She couldnot go past them. 

So serve a defeat told upon her nerves. Her feet carried hermechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactoryportion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after passed by. Uponstreet-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison, Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feetbeginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased inpart that the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shiningdown with steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of thestreets pleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with morerealization of its charm than had ever come to her before. 

Her cowardice began to trouble her in a way. She turned back, resolving to hunt up Storm and King and enter. On the way sheencountered a great wholesale shoe company, through the broad platewindows of which she saw an enclosed executive department, hidden byfrosted glass. Without this enclosure, but just within the streetentrance, sat a haired-haired gentleman at a small table, with a largeopen ledger before him. She walked by this institution several timeshesitating, but finding herself unobserved, faltered past the screendoor and stood humbly waiting. 

"Well, young lady, " observed the old gentleman, looking at her somewhatkindly, "what is it you wish?"

"I am, that is, do you I mean, do you need any help?" she stammered. 

"Not just at present, " he answered smiling. "Not just at present. Comein some time next week. Occasionally we need some one. "

She received the answer in silence and backed awkwardly out. Thepleasant nature of her reception rather astonished her. She hadexpected that it would be more difficult, that something cold and harshwould be said she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame andmade to feel her unfortunate position, seemed remarkable. 

Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It wasa clothing company, and more people were in evidence well dressed menof forty and more, surrounded by brass railings. 

An office boy approached her. 

"Who is it you wish to see?" he asked. 

"I want to see the manager, " she said. 

He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men who wereconferring together. One of these came towards her. 

"Well?" he said coldly. The greeting drove all courage from her atonce. 

"Do you need any help?" she stammered. 

"No, " he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel. 

She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially swinging the doorfor her, and gladly sank into the obscuring crowd. It was a servesetback to her recently pleased mental state. 

Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here and there, seeing one great company after another, but finding no courage toprosecute her single inquiry. High noon came, and with it hunger. Shehaunted out unassuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed tofind the prices were exorbitant for the size of her purse. A bowl ofsoup was all that she could afford, and with this quickly eaten, shewent out again. It restored her strength somewhat and made hermoderately bold to pursue the search. 

In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable place, she againencountered the firm of Storm and King, and this time managed to getin. Some gentlemen were conferring close at hand, but took no notice ofher. She was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When thelimit of her distress had been nearly reached, she was beckoned to by aman at one of the many desks within the near-by railing. 

"Who is it you wish to see?" he inquired. 

"Why, any one, if you please, " she answered. " I am looking forsomething to do. "

"Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus, " he returned. "Sit down, " and hepointed to a chair against the neighboring wall. He went on leisurelywriting, until after a time a short, stout gentlemen came in from thestreet. 

"Mr. McManus, " called the man at the desk, "this young women wants tosee you"

The short gentlemen turned about towards Carrie, and she rose and cameforward. 

"What can I do for you, miss?" he inquired, surveying her curiously. 

"I want to know if I can get a position, " she inquired. 

"As what?" he asked. 

"Not as anything in particular, " she faltered. 

"Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?"he questioned. 

"No, sir, " she replied. 

"Are you a stenographer or typewriter?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, we haven't anything here, " he said. "We employ only experiencedhelp. "

She began to step backward toward the door, when something about herplaintive face attracted him. 

"Have you ever worked at anything before?" he inquired. 

"No, sir, " she said. 

"Well, now, it's hardly possible that you would get anything to do in awholesale house of this kind. Have you tried the department stores?"

She acknowledged that she had not. 

"Well, if I were you, " he said, looking at her rather genially, "Iwould try the department stores. They often need young women asclerks. "

"Thank you, " she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark offriendly interest. 

"Thank you, " she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark offriendly interest. 

"Yes, " he said, as she moved toward the door, "you try the departmentstores, " and off he went. 

At the time the department store was in its earliest form of successfuloperation, and there were not many The first three in the UnitedStates, established about 1884, were in Chicago. Carrie was familiarwith the names of several through the advertisements in the "DailyNews, " and now proceeded to seek them. The words of Mr. McManus hadsomehow managed to restore her courage, which had fallen low, and shedared to hope that this new line would offer her something. Sometimeshe spent in wandering up and down, thinking to encounter the buildingsby chance, so readily is the mind, bent upon prosecuting a hard butneedful errand, eased by that self-deception which the semblance ofsearch without the reality gives. At last she inquired of a policeofficer, and was directed to proceed "two blocks up, " where she wouldfind "The Fair. "

The nature of these vast retail combinations, should they everpermanently disappear, will form an interesting chapter in thecommercial history of our nation. Such a flowering out of a modesttrade principle the world had never witnessed up to that time. Theywere along the line of the most effective retail organization, withhundreds of stores coordinated into one and laid out upon the mostimposing and economic basis. They were handsome, bustling, successfulaffairs, with a host of clerks and a swarm of patrons. Carrie passedalong the busy aisles, much affected by the remarkable displays oftrinkets, dress goods, stationery, and jewelry. Each separate counterwas a show place of dazzling interest and attraction. 

She could not help feeling the chain of each trinket and valuable uponher personally, and yet she did not stop. There was nothing therewhich she could not have used-nothing which she did not long to own. The dainty slippers and stockings, the delicately frilled skirts andpetticoats, the laces, ribbons, hair-combs, purses, all touched herwith individual desire, and she felt keenly the fact that not any ofthese things were in the range of her purchase. She was a work-seeker, an outcast without employment, one whom the average employee couldtell at a glance was poor and in need of a situation. 

It must not be thought that any one could have mistaken her for anervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, east unduly upon a cold, calculating, and un-poetic world. Such certainly she was not. But womenare peculiarly sensitive to their adornment. 

Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which was new andpleasing in apparel for women, but she noticed too, with a touch at theheart, the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her, brushing past inutter disregard of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in thematerials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar with theappearance of her more fortunate sister of the city. Neither had shebefore known the nature and appearance of the shop girls with whom shenow compared poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even handsome, with an air of independence and indifference which added, in the caseof the more favored, a certain piquancy. Their clothes were neat, inmany instances fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it washer individual shortcomings of dress and that shadow of manner whichshe though must hang about her and lighted in her heart. She realizedin a dim way how meant for women, and she longed for dress and beautywith a whole heart. 

On the second floor were the managerial offices, to which, after someinquiry, she was now directed. There she found other girls ahead ofher, applicants like herself. But with more of that self-satisfied andindependent air which experience of the city lends; girls whoscrutinized her in a painful manner. After a wait of perhaps threequarters of an hour, she was called in turn. 

"Now, " said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-topdesk near the windows, "have you even worked in any other store?"

"No, sir, " said Carrie. 

"Oh, you haven't, " he said, eyeing her keenly. 

"No, sir, " she replied. 

"Well, we prefer young women just now with some experience. I guess wecan't use you. "

Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the interview hadterminated. 

"Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here. "

Carrie began to move quickly to the door. 

"Hold on, " he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address. We want girls occasionally. "

When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrainthe tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had justexperienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day. She was triedand nervous. She abandoned the though of appealing to the otherdepartment stores and now wandered on, feeling a certain safety andrelief in mingling with the crowd. 

In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, nor farfrom the river, and was keeping her way along the south side of thatimposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper, written on withmarking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. Itread, "Girls wanted wrappers & stitchers. She hesitated a moment, thenentered. 

The firm of Speigelheim & Co, makers of boys' caps, occupied one floorof the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet in depth. Itwas a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest portions havingincandescent lights, filled with machines and work benches. At thelatter labored quite a company of girls and some men. The former weredrabby-looking creatures, stained in face with oil and dust, clad inthin, shapeless, cotton dresses and shod with more or less worn shoes. Many of them had their sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and insome 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 paid of from confinement. They werenot timid, however; were rich in curiosity, and strong in daring andslang. 

Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite sure that shedid not want to work here. Aside from making her uncomfortable bysidelong glances, no one paid her the least attention. She waiteduntil the whole department was aware of her presence. Then some wordwas sent around, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt sleeves, thelatter rolled up to his shoulders, approached. 

"Do you want to see me?" he asked. 

"Do you need any help?" said Carrie, already learning directness ofaddress. 

"Do you know how to stitch caps?" he returned. 

"No, sir, " she replied. 

"Have you ever had any experience at this kind of work?" he inquired. 

She answered that she had not. 

"Well, " said the foreman, scratching his ear meditatively, "we do needa stitcher. We like experienced help, though. We've hardly got time tobreak people in. " He paused and looked away out of the window. "Wemight, though, put you at finishing, " he concluded reflectively. 

"How much do you pay a week?" ventured Carrie, emboldened by a certainsoftness in the man's manner and his simplicity of address. 

"Three and a half, " he answered. 

"Oh, " she was about to exclaim, but checked herself and allowed herthoughts to die without expression. 

"We're not exactly in need of anybody, " he went on vaguely, lookingher over as one would a package. "You can come on Monday morning, though, " he added, " and I'll put you to work. "

"Thank you, " said Carrie weakly. 

"If you come, bring an apron, " he added. 

He walked away and left her standing by the elevator, never so much asinquiring her name. 

While the appearance of the shop and the announcement of the price paidper week operated very much as a blow to Carrie's fancy, the fact thatwork of any kind was offered after so rude a round of experience wasgratifying. She could not begin to believe that she would take theplace, modest as her aspirations were. She had been used to better thanthat. Her mere experience and the free out-of-door life of the countrycaused her nature to revolt at such confinement. Dirt had never beenher share. Her sister's flat was clean. This place was grimy and low, the girls were careless and hardened. They must be bad-minded andhearted, she imagined. Still, a place had been offered her. SurelyChicago was not so bad if she could find one place in one day. Shemight find another and better later. 

Her subsequent experiences were not of a reassuring nature, however. From all the more pleasing or imposing places she was turned awayabruptly with the most chilling formality. In other where she appliedonly the experienced were required. She met with painful rebuffs, themost trying of which had been in a manufacturing cloak house, whereshe had gone to the fourth floor to inquire. 

"No, no, " said foreman, a rough, heavily built individual, who lookedafter a miserably lighted workshop, "we don't want any one. Don't comehere. "

With the wane of the afternoon went her hopes, her courage, and herstrength. She had been astonishingly persistent. So earnest an effortwas well deserving of a better reward. On every hand, to her fatiguedsenses, the great business portion grew larger, harder, more stolid inits indifference. It seemed as if it was all closed to her, that thestruggle was too fierce for her to hope to do anything at all. Men andwomen hurried by in long, shifting lines. She felt the flow of the tideof effort and interest felt her own helplessness without quiterealizing the wisp on the tide that she was. She cast about vainly forsome possible place to apply but found no door which she had thecourage to enter. It would be the same thing all over. The oldhumiliation of her plea, rewarded by curt denial. Sick at heart and inbody, she turned to the west, the direction of Minie's flat, which shehad now fixed in mind, and begat that wearisome, baffled retreat makes. In passing through Fifth Avenue, south towards Van Buren Street, whereshe intended to take a car, she passed the door of a large wholesaleshoe house, through the plate-grass window of which she could see amiddle aged gentleman sitting at a small desk. One of those forlornimpulses which often grow out of a fixed sense of defeat, the lastsprouting of a baffled and uprooted growth through the door and up tothe gentleman, who looked at her weary face with partially awakenedinterest. 

"What is it?" he said. 

"Can you give me something to do?" said Carrie. 

"Now, I really don't know, " he said kindly. "What kind of work is ityou want-you're not a typewriter, are you?"

"Oh, no, " answered Carrie. 

"Well, we only employ book-keepers and typewriters here. You might goaround to the side and inquire upstairs. They did want some helpupstairs a few days ago. Ask for Mr. Brown. "

She hastened around to the side entrance and was taken up by theelevator to the fourth floor. 

"Call Mr. Brown, Willie, " said the elevator man to a boy near by. 

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 littlewhile. 

It was a portion of the stock room which gave no idea of the generalcharacter of the place, and Carrie could form no opinion of the natureof the work. 

"So you want something to do, " said Mr. Brown, after he inquiredconcerning the nature of her errand. " Have you ever been employed in ashoe factory before?"

"No, sir, " said Carrie. 

"What is your name?" he inquired, and being informed, "Well, I don'tknow as I have anything for you. Would you work for four and a half aweek?"

Carrie was too worn by defeat not to feel that it was considerable. Shehad not expected that he would offer her less than six. She acquiesced, however, and he took her name and address. 

"Well, " he said, finally, "you report here at eight o'clock Mondaymorning. I think I can find something for you to do. "

He left her revived by the possibilities, sure that she had foundsomething at last. Instantly the blood crept warmly over her body. Hernervous tension relaxed. She walked out into the busy street anddiscovered a new atmosphere. Behold, the throng was moving with alightsome step. She noticed that men and women were smiling. Scraps ofconversation and notes of laughter floated to her. The air was light. People were already pouring out of the buildings, their labor ended forthe day. She noticed that they were pleased, and thoughts of hersister's home and the meal that would be awaiting her quickened hersteps. She hurried on, tired perhaps, but no longer weary of foot. Whatwould not Minnie say! Ah, the long winter in Chicago-the lights, thecrowd, the amusement! This was a great, pleasing metropolis after all. Her new firm was a goodly institution Its windows were of huge plateglass. She could probably do well there. Thoughts of Drouet returned-ofthe things he had told her. She now felt that life was better that itwas livelier, sprightlier. She boarded a car in the best of spirits, feeling her blood still flowering pleasantly. She would live inChicago, her mind kept saying to itself. She would have a better timethan she had ever had before she would be happy. 

Chapter IVTHE SPENDINGS OF FANCY: FACTS ANSWER WITH SNEERS

For the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high flownspeculations. 

Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and amusements whichwould have been much more becoming had she been cradled a child offortune. With ready will and quick mental selection she scattered hermeager four-fifty per week with a swift and graceful hand. Indeed, asshe sat in her rocking-chair these several evenings before going to bedand looked out upon the pleasantly lighted street, this money clearedfor its prospective possessor the way to every joy and every baublewhich the heart of woman may desire. " I will have a fine time, " shethough. 

Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild cerebrations, though they exhausted the markets of delight. She was too busyscrubbing the kitchen woodwork and calculating the purchasing power ofeighty cents for Sunday's dinner. When Carrie had returned home, flushed with her first success and ready, for all her weariness, todiscuss the now interesting events which led up to her achievement, theformer had merely smiled approvingly and inquired whether she wouldhave to spend any of it for car fare. This consideration had notentered in before, and it did not now for long affect the glow ofCarrie's enthusiasm. Disposed as she then was to calculate upon thatvague basis which allows the subtraction of one sum from anotherwithout any perceptible diminution, she was happy. 

When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was inclined to be a littlecrusty-his usual demeanor before supper. This never showed so much inanything he said as in a certain solemnity of countenance and thesilent manner in which he slopped about. He had a pair of yellow carpetslippers which he enjoyed wearing, and these he would immediatelysubstitute for his soiled pair of shoes. This, and washing his facewith the aid of common washing soap until it glowed a shiny red, constituted his only preparation for his evening meal. He would thenget his evening paper and read in silence. 

For a young man, this was rather a morbid turn of character, and soaffected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere of the flat, as such things are inclined to do, and gave to his wife's mind itssubdued and tactful turn, anxious to avoid taciturn replies. Under theinfluence of Carrie's announcement he brightened up some what. 

" You didn't lose any time, did you?" he remarked, smiling a little. 

"No, " returned Carrie with a touch of pride. 

He asked her one or two more questions and then turned to play with thebaby, leaving the subject until it was brought up again by Minnie atthe table. 

Carrie, however, was not to be reduced to the common level ofobservation which prevailed in the flat. 

" It seems to be such a large company, " she said, at one place. " Greatbig plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. The man I saw said theyhired ever so many people. "

"It's not very hard to get work now, " put in Hanson, "if you lookright. "

Minnie under the warning influence of Carrie's good spirits and herhusband's somewhat conversational mood, began to tell Carrie of some ofthe well-known things to see-things the enjoyment of which costnothing. 

" You'd like to see Michigan Avenue. There are such fine houses. It issuch a fine street. "

" Where is ' H. R. Jacob's'?" interrupted Carrie, mentioning one of thetheatres devoted to melodrama which went by that name at the time. 

"Oh, it's not very far from here, " answered Minnie. " It's in HalsteadStreet, right up here. "

" How I'd like to go there. I crossed Halstead Street to-day, didn'tI?"

At this there was a slight halt in the natural reply. Thoughts are astrangely permeating factor. At her suggestion of going to the theatre, the unspoken shade of disapproval to the doing of those things whichinvolved the expenditure of money-shades of feeling which arose in themind of Hanson and then on Minnie-slightly affected the atmosphere ofthe table. Minnie answered "yes, " but Carrie could feel that going tothe theatre was poorly advocated here. The subject was put off for alittle while until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper andwent into the front room. 

When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freerconversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as they worked atthe dishes. 

" I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it isn't toofar, " said Carrie, after a time. " Why don't we go to the theatre to-night?"

" Oh, I don't think Sven would want to go to-night, " returned Minnie. "He has to get up so early. "

" He wouldn't mind-he'd enjoy it, " said Carrie. 

" No, he doesn't go very often, " returned Minnie. 

" Well, I'd like to go, " rejoined Carrie. " Let's you and me go. "

Minnie pondered a while, not upon whether she could or would go forthat point was already negatively settled with her-but upon some meansof diverting the thoughts of her sister to some other topic. 

" We'll go some other time, " she said at last, finding no ready meansof escape. 

Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once. 

" I have some money, " she said. " You go with me. '

Minnie shook her head. 

" He could go along, " said Carrie. 

" No, returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to drown theconversation. " He wouldn't. "

It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and in thattime the latter's character had developed a few shades. Naturally timidin all things that related to her own advancement, and especially sowhen without power or resource, her craving for pleasure was so strongthat it was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that whensilent on all else. 

" Ask him, " she pleaded softly. 

Minnie was thinking of the resource which Carrie's board would add. Itwould pay the rent and would make the subject of expenditure a littleless difficult to talk about with her husband. But if Carrie was goingto think of running around in the beginning there would be a hitchsomewhere. Unless Carrie submitted to a solemn round of industry andsaw the need of hard work without longing for play, how was her comingto 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 whichinvariably adjusted itself, without much complaining, to suchsurroundings as its industry could make for it. 

At last she yield enough to ask Hanson. It was a half-hearted procedurewithout a shade of desire on her part. 

" Carrie wants us to go to the theatre, " she said, looking in upon herhusband. Hanson looked up from his paper, and they exchanged a mildlook, which said as plainly as anything: " This isn't what weexpected. "

" I don't care to go, " he returned. " What does she want to see?"

" H. R Jacob's, " said Minnie. 

He looked down at his paper and shook his head negatively. 

When Carrie saw how they looked upon her proposition, she gained astill clearer feeling of their way of life. It weighted on her, buttook no definite form of opposition. 

" I think I'll go down and stand at the foot of the stairs, " she said, after a time. 

Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her hat and wentbelow. 

" Where has Carrie gone?" asked Hanson, coming back into the dinning-room when he heard the door close. 

" She said she was going down to the foot of the stairs, " answeredMinnie. " I guess she just wants to look out a while. "

" She oughtn't to be thinking about spending her money on theatresalready, do you think?" he said. 

" She just feels a little curious, I guess, " ventured Minnie. "Everything is so new. "

" I don't know, " said Hanson, and went over to the baby, his foreheadslightly wrinkled. 

He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wastefulness which ayoung girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie could contemplatesuch a course when she had so little, as yet, with which to do. 

On Saturday Carrie went out by herself-first toward the river, whichinterested her, and then back along Jackson Street, which was thenlined by the pretty houses and fine lawns which subsequently caused itto be made into a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences ofwealth, although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street worthmore than a hundred thousand dollars. She was glad to be out of theflat, because already she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, andthat interest and joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a moreliberal character, and she punctuated them with speculations as to thewhereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might call anyhowMonday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed at thepossibility, there was, nevertheless, just the shade of a wish that hewould. 

On Monday she arose early and prepared to go to work. She dressedherself 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 allsummer at Columbia City. Her shoes were old, and her necktie was inthat crumpled, flattened state which time and much wearing impart. Shemade a very average looking shop-girl with the exception of herfeatures. These were slightly more even than common, and gave her asweet, reserved, and pleasing appearance. 

It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when one is used tosleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had been at home. She gainedsome inkling of the character of Hanson's life when, half asleep, shelooked out into the dinning-room at six o'clock and saw him silentlyfinishing his breakfast. By the time she was dressed he was gone, andshe, Minnie, and the baby ate together, the latter being just oldenough sit in a high chair and disturb the dishes with a spoon. Herspirits were greatly subdued now when the fact of entering upon strangeand untried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her finefancies were remaining-ashes still concealing, never the less, a fewred embers of hope. So subdued was she by her weakening nervous, thatshe ate quite in silence. Going over imaginary conceptions of thecharacter of the shoe company, the nature of the work, her employer'sattitude. She was vaguely feeling that she would come in contract withthe great owners, that her work come in contract with the great owners, that her work would be where grave, stylishly dressed men occasionallylook on. 

" Well, good luck, " said Minnie, when she was ready to go. They hadagreed it was best to walk, that morning at least, to see if she coulddo it every day-sixty cents a week for car fare being quite an itemunder the circumstances. 

" I'll tell you how it goes to-night, " said Carrie. 

Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in eitherdirection, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the smallclerks and floor help in the great wholesales houses, and men andwomen generally coming out of doors and passing about theneighourhood, Carrie felt slightly reassured. In the sunshine of themorning, beneath the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, whatfears, except the most desperate, can find a harbourage? In the night, or the gloomy chambers of the day, fears and misgivings wax strong, butout in the sunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terrorof death. 

Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and thenturned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part, was like awalled canon of brown stone and clean. Trucks were rumbling inincreasing numbers; men and woman, girls and boys were moving onwardin all directions. She met girls of her own age, who looked at her asif with contempt for her diffidence. She wondered at the magnitude ofthis life and at the importance of knowing much in order to do anythingin it at all. Dread at her own inefficiency crept upon her. She wouldnot know how, she would not be quick enough. Had not all the otherplaces refused her because she did not know something or other? Shewould be scolded, abused, ignominiously discharged. 

It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breathing that shecame up to the great shoe company at Adams and Fifth Avenue and enteredthe elevator. When she steeped out on the fourth floor there was noone at hand, only great aisles of boxes piled to the ceiling. Shestood, very much frightened, awaiting some one. 

Presently Mr. Brown came up. He did not seem to recognise her. 

" What is it you want?" he inquired. 

Carrie's heart sank. 

" You said I should come this morning to see about work-"

" Carrie Meeber. "

" Yes, " said he. " You come with me. "

He led the way through dark, box-lined aisles which had the smell ofnew shoes, until they came to an iron door which opened into thefactory proper. There was a large, low-ceiled room, with clacking, rattling machines at which men in white shirt sleeves and blue ginghamaprons were working. She followed him diffidently through theclattering automatons, keeping her eyes straight before her, andflushing slightly. They crossed to a far corner and took an elevator tothe sixth floor. Out of the array of machines and benches, Mr. Brownsignaled a foreman. 

" This is the girls, " he said, and turning to Carrie, " You go withhim. " He then returned, and Carrie followed her new superior to alittle desk in a corner, which he used as a kind of official center. 

" You've never worked at anything like this before, have you?" hequestioned, rather sternly. 

" No, sir, " she answered. 

He seemed rather annoyed at having to bother with such help, but putdown her name and then led her across to where a line of girls occupiedstools in front of clacking machines. On the shoulder of one of thegirls who was punching eye-holes in one piece of the upper, by the aidof the machine, he put his hand. 

" You, " he said, " show this girl how to do what you're doing. When youget through, come to me. "

The girl so addressed rose promptly and gave Carrie her place. 

" It isn't hard to do, " she said, bending over. " You just take thisso, fasten it with this clamp, and start the machine. "

She suited action to work, fastened the piece of leather, which waseventually to form the right half of the upper of a man's shoe, bylittle adjustable clamps, and pushed a small steel rod at the side ofthe machine. The latter jumped to the task of punching, with sharp, snapping clicks, cutting circular bits of leather out of the side ofthe upper, leaving the holes which were to hold the laces. Afterobserving a few times, the girl let her work at it alone. Seeing thatit was fairly well done, she went away. 

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 anaverage speed was necessary or the work would pile up on her and allthose below would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and bentanxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realized herpredicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much asthey dared, by working slower. 

At this task she labored incessantly for some time, finding relief fromher own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum, mechanicalmovement of the machine. She felt, as the minutes passed, that the roomwas not very light. It had a thick odor of fresh leather, but that didnot worry her. She felt the eyes of the other help upon her, andtroubled lest she was not working fast enough. 

Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having made a slighterror in setting in the leather, a great hand appeared before her eyesand fastened the clamp for her. It was the foreman. Her heart thumpedso that she could scarcely see to go on. 

" Start your machine, " he said, " start your machine. Don't keepthe line waiting. "

This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly on, hardlybreathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then she heaveda great breath. 

As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the need of abreath 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 tofeel uncomfortable. She found, after a time, that her back wasbeginning to ache. She twisted and turned from one position to anotherslightly different, but it did not ease her for long. She was beginningto weary. 

" Stand up, why don't you?" said the girl at her right without any formof introduction. " They won't care. "

Carrie looked at her gratefully. " I guess I will, " she said. 

She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it wasa more difficult position. Her neck and shoulder ached in bendingover. 

The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She didnot venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine shecould hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two outof the side of her eye. 

" Did you see Harry last night?" said the girl at her left, addressingher neighbor

" No. "

" You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark. "

" S-s-t, " said the other girl, bending over her work. 

The first, silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foremanpassed slowly along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he wasgone, the conversation was resumed again. 

" Say, " began the girl at her left, " what do you think he said?"

" I don't know. "

" He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin's last night. "

" No!" They both giggled. 

A youth with tan-colored hair, that needed clipping very badly, cameshuffling along between the machines, bearing a basket of leatherfindings under his left arm, and pressed against his stomach. When nearCarrie, he stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under thearm. 

" Aw, let me go, " she exclaimed angrily. " Duffer. "

He only grinned broadly in return. 

" Rubber!" he called back as she looked after him. 

There was nothing of the gallant in him. 

Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began to tire and shewanted to get up and stretch. Would noon never come? It seemed as ifshe had worked an entire day. She was not hungry at all, but weak, andher eyes were tired, straining at the one point where the eye-punchcame down. The girl at the right noticed her squirmings and felt sorryfor her. She was concentrating herself too thoroughly-what she didreally required less mental and physical strain. There was nothing tobe done, however. The halves of the uppers came piling steadily down. Her hands began to ache at the wrists and then in the fingers andtowards the last she seemed one mass of dull, complaining muscles, fixed in an eternal position and performing a single mechanicalmovement which become more and more distasteful, until at last it wasabsolutely nauseating. When she was wondering whether the strain wouldever cease, a dull-sounding bell clanged somewhere down an elevatorshaft, and the end came. In a instant there was a buzz of action andconversation. All the girls instantly left their stools and hurriedaway in an adjoining room, men passed through, coming from somedepartment which opened on the right. The whirling wheels began tosing in a steadily modifying key, until at last they died away in a lowbuzz. There was an audible stillness, in which the common voice soundedstrange. 

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 theforeman, who started at her hard. 

" Well, " he said, " did you get along all right?"

" I think so, " she replied, very respectfully. 

" Um, " he replied, for want of something better, and walked on. 

Under better material conditions, this kind of work would not have beenso bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant workingconditions for employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturingcompanies. 

The place smelled of the of the oil of the machines and the newleather-a combination which, added to the stale odors of the building, was not pleasant even on cold weather. The floor, though regularlyswept every evening, presented a littered surface. Not the slightestprovision had been made for the comfort of the employees, the ideabeing that something was gained by giving them as little and making thework as hard and unremunerative as possible. What we know of foot-rests, swivel-back chairs, dinning-rooms for the girls, clean apronsand curling irons supplied free, and decent cloak room, were unthoughtof. The washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and thewhole atmosphere was sordid. 

Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of water from abucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. The other girls hadranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those ofthe men who had gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a coupleor 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 lunchon her lap. There she sat listening to the chatter and comment abouther. 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 atlong range. 

" Say, Kitty, " called to a girl who was doing a waltz step in a fewfeet of space near one of the windows, " are you going to the ball withme?"

" Look out, Kitty, " called another, " you'll jar your back hair. "

" Go on, Rubber, " was her only comment. 

As Carrie listened to this and much more of similar familiar badinageamong the men and girls, she instinctively withdrew into herself. Shewas not used to this type, and felt that there was something hard andlow about it all. She feared that the young boys about would addresssuch remarks to her-boys who, beside Drouet, seemed uncouth andridiculous. She made the average feminine distinction between clothes, putting worth, goodness, and distinction in a dress suit, and leavingall the unlovely qualities and those beneath notice in overalls andjumper. 

She was glad when the short half hour was over and the wheels began towhirr again. Though wearied, she would be inconspicuous. This illusionended when another young man passed along the aisle and poked herindifferently in the ribs with his thumb. She turned about, indignation leaping to her eyes, but he had gone on and only onceturned to grin. She found it difficult to conquer an inclination tocry. 

The girl next her noticed her state of mind. " Don't you mind, " shesaid. " He's too fresh. "

Carrie said nothing, but bent over her work. She felt as though shecould hardly endure such a life. Her idea of work had been so entirelydifferent. All during the long afternoon she thought of the cityoutside and its imposing show, crowds, and fine buildings. ColumbiaCity and the better side of her home life came back. By three o'clockshe was sure it must be six, and by four it seemed as if they hadforgotten to note the hour and were letting all work overtime. Theforeman became a true ogre, prowling constantly about, keeping her tieddown to her miserable task. What she heard of the conversation abouther only made her feel sure that she did not want to make friends withany of these. When six o'clock came she hurried eagerly away, her armsaching and her limbs stiff from sitting in one position. 

As she passed put along the hall after getting her hat, a young machinehand, attracted by her looks, made bold to jest with her. 

" Say, Maggie, " he called, " if you wait, I'll walk with you. "

It was thrown so straight in her direction that she knew who was meant, but never turned took. 

In the crowded elevator, another dusty, toil-stained youth tried tomake an impression on her by leering in her face. 

One young man, waiting on the walk outside for the appearance ofanother, grinned at her as she passed. 

" Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely. 

Carrie turned her face to the west with a subdued heart. 

As she turned the corner, she saw through the great shiny window thesmall desk at which she had applied. There were the crowds, hurryingwith the same buzz and energy yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slightrelief, but it was only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face ofbetter dressed girls who went by. She felt as though she should bebetter served, and her heart revolted. 

Chapter VA GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER: THE USE OF A NAME

 Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the letter, he hadlaid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floatingaround having what he considered a gay time. On this particular eveninghe dined at " Rector's, " a restaurant of some local fame, whichoccupied a basement at Clark and Monroe Streets. Thereafter he visitedthe resort of Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams Street, opposite theimposing Federal Building. There he leaned over the splendid bar andswallowed a glass of plain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of which he lighted. This to him represented in part high life-afair sample of what the whole must be. 

Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a moneyed man. He onlycraved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such doings seemed tohim a part of the best. Rector's, with its polished marble walls andfloor, 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 lovedfine clothes, good eating, and particularly the company andacquaintanceship of successful men. When dining, it was source of keensatisfaction to him to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come tothis same place, r that Henry E. Dixie, a well known performer of theday, was then only a few tables off. At Rector's he could always obtainthis satisfaction for there one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, some rich young "rounders" of the town, all eating and drinkingamid a buzz of popular commonplace conversation. 

" That's So-and so over there, " was a common remark of these gentlemenamong themselves, particularly among those who had not yet reached, buthoped to do so, the dazzling height which money to dine here lavishlyrepresented. 

" You don't say so, " would be the reply. 

" Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager

of the Grand Opera House. "

When these things would fall upon Drouet's ears, he would straightenhimself a little more stiffly and eat with solid comfort. If he had anyvanity, 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 they did. 

His preference for Fitzgerald and Moy's Adams Street place was anotheryard off the same cloth. This was really a gorgeous saloon from aChicago standpoint. Like Rector's, it was also ornamented with a blazeof incandescent lights, held in handsome chandeliers. The floors wereof brightly colored tiles, the walls a composition of rich, dark, polished wood, which gave the place a very sumptuous appearance. Thelong bar was a blaze of lights, polished wood-work, colures and cutglassware, and many fancy bottles. It was a truly swell saloon, withrich screens, fancy wines, and a line of bar goods unsurpassed in thecountry. 

At Rector's Drouet had met Mr. G. W. Hurstwood, manager of Fitgeraldand Moy's. He had been pointed out as a very successful and well-knownman about town. Hurstwood looked the part, for, besides being slightlyunder forty, he had a good, stout constitution, an active manner, andsolid, substantial air, which was composed in part of his fine clothes, his clean linen, his jewels, and, above all, his own sense of hisimportance. Drouet immediately conceived a notion of him as being someone worth knowing, and was glad not only to meet him, but to visit theAdams Street bar thereafter whenever he wanted a drink or a cigar. 

Hurstwood was an interesting character after his kind. He was shrewdand clever in many little things, and capable of creating a goodimpression. His managerial position was fairly important-a kind ofstewardship which was imposing, but lacks financial control. He hadrisen by perseverance and industry, through long years of service, fromthe position of barkeeper in a commonplace saloon to his presentaltitude. He had a little office in the place, set off in polishedcherry and grill-work, where he kept, in a roll-top desk, the rathersimple accounts of the place-supplies ordered and needed. The chiefexecutive and financial functions devolved upon the owner Messrs. Fitzgerald and Moy-and upon a cashier who looked after the money takenin. 

For the most part he lounged about, dressed in excellent tailored suitsof imported goods, a solitaire ring, a fine blue diamond in his tie, astriking 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 andengraving. He knew by name, and could greet personally with a " Well, old fellow, " hundreds of actors, merchants, politicians, and thegeneral run of successful characters about town, and it was part of hissuccess to do so. He had a finely graduated scale of informality andfriendship, which improved from the " How do you do?" addressed to thefifteen-dollar-a-week clerks and office attaches, who, by longfrequenting of the place, became aware of his position, to the " Whyold man, how are you?" which he addressed to those noted or richindividuals who knew him and were inclined to be friendly. There was aclass however, too rich, too famous, or too successful with whom hecould not attempt any familiarity of address, and with these he wasprofessionally tactful, assuming a grave and dignified attitude, payingthem the deference which would win their good feeling without in theleast compromising his own bearing and opinions. There were, in thelast place, a few good followers, neither rich nor poor, famous, noryet remarkably successful, with whom he was friendly on the score ofgood-fellowship. These were the kind of men with whom he wouldconverse longest and most seriously. He loved to go out and have a goodtime once in a while to go to the races, the theatres, the sportingentertainments at some of the clubs. He kept a horse and neat trap, had his wife and two children, who were well established in neat houseon the North Side near Lincoln Park, and was altogether a veryacceptable individual of our great American upper class-the first gradebelow the luxuriously rich. 

Hurstwood liked Douet. The latter's genial nature and dressy appearancepleased him. He knew that Drouet was only a traveling salesman-and notone of many years at that-but the firm of Barlett, Caryoe & Company waslarge and prosperous house, and Drouet stood well. Hurstwood knewCaryoe quite well, having drunk a glass now and then with him, incompany with several others, when tie conversation was general. Drouethad what was a help in his business, a moderate sense of humor, andcould tell a good story when the occasion required. He could talk raceswith Hurstwood, tell interesting incidents concerning himself and hisexperiences with women, and report the state of trade in the citieswhich he visited, and so managed to make himself almost invariablyagreeable. To-night he was particularly so, since his report to thecompany had been favorably commented upon, his new samples had beensatisfactorily selected, and his trip marked out for the next sixweeks. 

" Why, hello, Charlie, old man, " said Hurstwood, as Drouet came in thatevening about eight o'clock. " How goes it?" The room was crowded. 

Drouet shook hands, beaming good nature, and they strolled towards thebar. 

" Oh, all right. "

" I haven't seen you in six weeks. When did you get in?"

" Friday, " said Drouet. " Had a fine trip. "

" Glad of it, " said Hurstwood, his black eyes lit with a warmth whichhalf displaced the cold make-believe that usually dwelt in them. "What are you going to take?" he added, as the barkeeper, in snowyjacket and tie, leaned toward them from behind the bar. 

" Oh, all right. "

" I haven't seen you in six weeks. When did you get in?"

" Friday, " said Drouet. " Had a fine trip. "

" Glad of it, " said Hurstwood, his black eyes lit with a warmth whichhalf displaced the cold make-believe that usually dwelt in them. "Where are you going to take?" he added, as the barkeeper, in snowyjacket and tie, leaned toward them from behind the bar. 

" Old Pepper, " said Drouet. 

" A little of the same for me, " put in Hurstwood. 

" How long are you in town this time? inquired Hurstwood. 

" Only until Wednesday. I'm going up to St. Paul. "

" George Evans was in here Saturday and said he saw you in Milwaukeelast week. "

" Yes, I saw George, " returned Drouet. " Great old boy, isn't he? Wehad quite a time there together. "

The barkeeper was setting out the glasses and bottle before them, andthey now poured out the drought as they talked, Drouet filling his towithin a third of full, as was considering proper, and Hurstwood takingthe barest suggestion of whiskey and modifying it with seltzer. 

" What's become of Caryoe?" remarked Hurstwood " I haven't seen himaround here in two weeks. "

" Laid up, they say, " exclaimed Drouet. " Say, he's a gouty old boy!"

" Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he?"

" Yes, and swift-pacer, " laughed Drouet. 

" I guess he can't hurt the business very much, though, with the othermembers all there. "

" No, he can't injure that any, I guess. "

Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, thelight on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeabledistinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort. 

To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more serious turn ofmind, such a bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber must ever seem ananomaly, a strange commentary on nature and life. Here come the moths, in endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame. Suchconversation as one may hear would not warrant a commendation of thescene upon intellectual grounds. It seems plain that schemers wouldchoose more sequestered quarters to arrange their plans, thatpoliticians would not gather here in company to discuss anything saveformalities, where the sharp-eared may hear, and it would scarcely bejustified on the score of thirst, for the majority of those whofrequent these more gorgeous places have no craving for liquor. Nevertheless, the fact that here men gather, there chatter, here loveto pass and rub elbows, must be explained upon some grounds. It must bethat a strange bundle of passions and vague desires give rise to sucha curious social institution or it would not be. 

Drouet, for one, was lured as much by his longing for pleasure as byhis desire to shine among his betters. The many friends he met heredropped in because they craved, without, perhaps, consciously analyzingit, the company, the glow, the atmosphere which they found. One mighttake it, after all, as an auger of the better social order, for thethings which they satisfied here, though sensory, were not evil. Noevil could come out of the contemplation of an expensively decoratedchamber. The worst effect of such a thing would be, perhaps, to stir upin the material minded an ambition to arrange their lives upon asimilarly splendid basis. In the last analysis, that would scarcely becalled the fault of the decorations, but rather of the innate trend ofthe mind. That such a scene might stir the less expensively dressed toemulate the more expensively dress could scarcely be laid at the doorof anything save the false ambition of the minds of those so affected. Remove the element so thoroughly and solely complained of-liquor-andthere would not be one to gainsay the qualities of beauty andenthusiasm which would remain. The pleased eye with which our modernrestaurants of fashion are looked upon is proof of this assertion. 

Yet, here is the fact of the lighted chamber, the dressy greedycompany, the small, self-interested palaver, the disorganized, aimless, wandering mental action which it represents-the love of light and showand finery which, to one outside, under the serene light of the eternalstars, and sweeping night winds, what a lamp-flower it must bloom; astrange, glittering night-flower, yielding-yielding, insect-drawing, insect-infested rose of pleasure. 

" See that a fellow coming in there?" said Hurstwood, glancing at agentlemen just entering, arrayed in a high hat and Prince Albert coat, his fat cheeks puffed and red as with good eating. 

" No, where?" said Drouet. 

" There, " said Hurstwood, indicating the direction by a cast of hiseye, " the man with the silk hat. "

" Oh, yes, " said Drouet, now affecting not to see. " Who is he?"

" That's Jules Wallace, the spiritualist. "

Drouet followed him with his eyes, much interested. 

" Doesn't look much like a man who sees spirits, does he?" said Drouet. 

" Oh, I don't know, " returned Hurstwood. " He's got the money, allright, " and a little twinkle passed over his eyes. 

" I don't go much on those things, do you?" asked Drouet. 

" Well, you never can tell, " said Hurstwood. " There may be somethingto it. I wouldn't bother about it myself, though. By the way, " headded, " are you going anywhere to-night?"

" The Hole in the Ground, " said Drouet, mentioning the popular farce ofthe time. 

" Well, you'd better be going. It's half after eight already, " and hedrew out his watch. 

The crowd was already thinning out considerably, some bound for thetheatres, some to their clubs, and some to that most fascinating ofall the pleasures for the type of man there represented, at least theladies. 

" Yes, I will, " said Drouet. 

" Come around after the show. I have something I want to show you, "said Hurstwood. 

" Sure, " said Drouet, elated. 

" You haven't anything on hand for the night, have you?" addedHurstwood. 

" Not a thing. "

" Well, come round, then. "

" I struck a little peach coming in on the train Friday, " remarkedDrouet, by way of parting. " By George, that's so, I must go and callon her before I go away. "

" Oh, never mind her" Hurstwood remarked. 

" Say, she was a little dandy, I tell you, " went on Drouetconfidentially, and trying to impress his friend. 

" Twelve o'clock, " said Hurstwood. 

" That's right, " said Drouet, going out. 

Thus was Carrie's name bandied about in the most frivolous and gay ofplaces, and that also when the little toiler was bemoaning her narrowlot, which was almost inseparable from the early stages of this, herunfolding fate. 

Chapter VITHE MACHINE AND THE MAIDEN: A KNIGHT OF TO-DAY

 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 goodspirits Carrie manifested at first, expected a fair report. Hansonsupposed that Carrie would be satisfied. 

" 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 makeout?"

" Oh, " said Carrie, " it's pretty hard. I don't like it. "

There was an air about her which showed plainer than any words that shewas both weary and disappointed. 

" What sort of work is it?" he asked, lingering a moment as he turnedupon his heel to go into the bathroom. 

" Running a machine, " answered Carrie. 

It was very evident that it did not concern him much, save from theside of the flat's success. He was irritated a shade because it couldnot have come about in the throw of fortune for Carrie to be pleased. 

Minnie worked with less elation than she had just before Carriearrived. The sizzle of the meat frying did not sound quite so pleasingnow that Carrie had reported her discontent. To Carrie, the one reliefof 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 alittle while. You will get something better, " put 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 shewas to pay four dollar for her board and room, and now she felt that itwould be an exceedingly gloomy round living with these people. 

Minnie was no companion for her sister-she was too old. Her thoughtswere staid and solemnly adapted to a condition. If Hanson had anypleasant thoughts or happy feelings he concealed them. He seemed to doall his mental operations without the aid of physical expression. Hewas as still as a deserted chamber. Carrie, on the other hand, had theblood of youth and some imagination. Her day of love and the mysteriesof courtship were still ahead. She could think of things she would liketo do, of clothes she would like to wear, and of places she would liketo visit. These were the things upon which her mind ran, and it waslike meeting with opposition at every turn to find no one here to callforth or respond to her feelings. 

She had forgotten, in considering and explaining the result of her day, that Drouet might come. Now, when she saw how unreceptive these twopeople were, she hoped he would not. She did not know exactly what shewould do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After suppershe changed her clothes. When she was trimly dressed she was rather asweet little being, with large eyes and a sad mouth. Her face expressedthe mingled expectancy, dissatisfaction, and depression she felt. Shewandered about after the dishes were put away, talked a little withMinnie, and then decided to go down and stand in the door at the footof the stairs. If Drouet came, she could meet him there. Her face tookon the semblance of a look of happiness as she put on her hat to gobelow. 

" Carrie doesn't seem to like her place very well, " said Minnie to herhusband when the latter came out, paper in hand, to sit in the dining-room a few minutes. 

" She ought to keep it for a time, anyhow, " said Hanson. " Has she gonedownstairs?"

" Yes, " said Minnie. 

" I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be here weekswithout getting another one. "

Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper. 

" If I were you, " he said a little later, " I wouldn't let her stand inthe door down there. It don't look good. "

" I'll tell her, " said Minnie. 

The life of the streets contained for a long time to interest Carrie. She never wearied of wondering where the people in the cars were goingor what their enjoyments were. Her imagination trod a very narrowround, always winding up at points which concerned money, looks, clothes or enjoyment. She would have a far-off thought of Columbia Citynow and then, or an irritating rush of feeling concerning herexperiences of the present day, but, on the whole, the little worldabout her enlisted her whole attention. 

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 hispresence until he was quite near her. 

" I'm after bread, " was all he said as he passed. The contagion ofthought here demonstrated itself. While Hanson really came for bread, the though 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. Ofcourse, she had no understanding of what put it into her head, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the first shade of real antipathy tohim. She knew now that she did not like him. He was suspicious. 

A though will color a world for us. The flow of Carrie's meditationshad been disturbed, and Hanson had not long gone upstairs before shefollowed. She had realized with the lapse of the quarter hours thatDrouet was not coming, and somehow she felt a little resentful, alittle as if she had been forsaken-was not good enough. She wentupstairs, where everything was silent. Minnie was sewing by a lamp atthe table. Hanson has already turned in for the night. In her wearinessand disappointment Carrie did no more than announce that she was goingto bed. 

" Yes, you'd better, " returned Minnie. " You've got to get up early, you know. "

The morning was no better. Hanson was just going out the door as Carriecame from her room. Minnie tried to talk with her during breakfast, butthere was not much of interest which they could mutually discuss. As onthe previous morning, Carrie walked down town, for she began torealize now that her four-fifty would not even allow her cat fare aftershe paid her board. This seemed a miserable arrangement. But themorning light swept away the first misgivings of the day, as morninglight is ever won't to do. 

At the shoe factory she put in a long day, scarcely so wearisome as thepreceding, but considerably less novel. The head foreman, on his round, stopped by her machine. 

" Where did you come from?" he inquired. 

" Mr. Brown hired me, " she replied. 

" Oh, he did, eh!" and then, " She that you keep things going. "

The machine girls impressed her even less favorably. They seemedsatisfied with their lot, and were in a sense " common. " Carrie hadmore imagination than they She was not used to slang. Her instinct inthe matter of dress was naturally better. She disliked to listen to thegirl next to her, who was rather hardened by experience. 

" I'm going to quit this, " she heard her remark to her neighbor. " Whatwith the stipend and being up late, it's too much for me health. "

They were free with the follows, young and old, about the place, andexchanged banter in rude phrases, which at first shocked her. She sawthat she was taken to be of the same sort and addressed accordingly. 

" Hello, " remarked one of the stout-wristed sole-workers to her atnoon. " You're a daisy. " He really expected to hear the common " Aw! gochase yourself!" in return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie'ssilently moving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning. 

That night at the flat she was even more lonely-the dull situation wasbecoming harder to endure. She could see that the Hassons seldom ornever had any company. Standing at the street door looking out, sheventured to walk out a little way. Her easy gait and idle mannerattracted attention of an offensive but common sort. She was slightlytaken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who inpassing looked at her, reduced his pace, turned back, and said:

" Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening?"

Carrie looked at him in amazement, and then summoned sufficientthoughts to reply: " Why, I don't know you, " backing away as she didso. 

" Oh, that don't matter, " said the other affably. 

She bandied no more words with him, but hurried away, reaching her owndoor quite out of breath. There was something in the man's look whichfrightened her. 

During the remainder of the week it was very much the same. One or twonights she found herself too tried to walk home, and expended car fare. She was not very strong, and sitting all day affected her back. Shewent to bed one night before Hanson. 

Transplantation is not always successful in the matter of flowers ormaidens. It requires sometimes a richer soil, a better atmosphere tocontinue even a natural growth. It would have been better if heracclimatization had been more gradual-less rigid. She would have donebetter if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had seen moreof the city which she constantly troubled to know about. 

On the first morning it rained she found that she no umbrella. Minnieloaned her one of hers, which was worn and faded. There was the kind ofvanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of the greatdepartment stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and a quarterof her small store to pay for it. 

" What did you do that for, Carrie?" asked Minnie, when she saw it. 

" Oh, I need one, " said Carrie. 

" You foolish girl. "

Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She was not going tobe a common shop-girl, she though; they need not think it, either. 

One the first Saturday night Carrie paid her board, four dollars. Minnie had a quaver of conscience as she took it, but did not know howto explain to Hanson if she took less. That worthy gave up just fourdollar less toward the household expenses with a smile of satisfaction. He contemplated increasing his Building and Loan payments. As forCarrie, she studied over the problem of finding clothes and amusementon fifty cents a week. She brooded over this until she was in a stateof mental rebellion. 

" I'm going up the street for a walk, " she said after supper. 

" Not alone, are you? asked Hanson. 

" Yes, " returned Carrie. 

" I wouldn't, " said Minnie. 

" I want to see something, " said Carrie, and by the tone she put intothe last word they realized for the first time she was not pleased withthem. 

" What's the matter with her?" asked Hanson, when she went into thefront room to get her hat. 

" I don't know, " said Minnie. 

" Well, she ought to know better than to want to go out alone. "

Carrie did not go very far, after all. She returned and stood in thedoor. The next day they went out to Garfield Park, but it did notplease her. She did not look well enough. In the shop next day sheheard the highly colored reports which girls give of their trivialamusements. They had been happy. On several days it rained and she usedup car fare. One night she got thoroughly that evening she sat alone inthe front room looking out upon the street, where the lights werereflected on the wet pavements, thinking. She had imagination enough tobe moody. 

On Saturday she paid another four dollars and pocketed her fifty centsin despair. The speaking acquaintanceship which she formed with some ofthe girls at the shop discovered to her the fact that they had more oftheir earnings to use for themselves than she did. They had young menof the kind whom she, since her experience with Drouet, felt above, whotook them about. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed youngfellows of the shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She sawonly their workday side. 

There came a day when the first premonitory blast of winter swept overthe city. It scudded the fleecy clouds in the heavens, trailed long, thin streamers of smoke from the tall stacks, and raced about thestreets and corners in sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt theproblem of winter clothes. What was she to do? She had no winterjacket, no hat, no shoes. It was difficult to speak to Minnie aboutthis, but at last she summoned the courage. 

" I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes, " she said oneevening when they were together. " I need a hat. "

Minnie looked serious. 

" Why don't you keep part of your money and buy yourself one?" shesuggested, worried over the situation which the withholding of Carrie'smoney would create. 

" I'd like to for a week or so, if you don't mind, " ventured Carrie. 

" Could you pay two dollars?" asked Minnie. 

Carrie readily acquiesced, glad to escape the trying situation, andliberal now that she saw a way out. She was elated and began figuringat once. She needed a hat first of all. How Minnie explained to Hansonshe never knew. He said nothing at all, but there were thoughts in theair which left disagreeable impressions. 

The new arrangement might have worked if sickness had not intervened. It blew up cold after a rain one afternoon when Carrie was stillwithout a jacket. She came out of the warm shop at six and shivered asthe wind struck her. In the morning she was sneezing, and going downtown 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 nothungry. Minnie noticed her drooping actions and asked her aboutherself. 

" I don't know, " said Carrie. " I feel real bad. "

She hung about the stove, suffered a chattering chill, and went to bedsick. The next morning she was thoroughly feverish. 

Minnie was truly distressed at this, but maintained a kindly demeanor. Hanson said perhaps she had better go back home for a while. When shegot up after three days, it was taken for granted that her position waslost. The winter was near at hand, she had no clothes, and now she wasout of work. 

" I don't know, " said Carrie; " I'll go down Monday and see if I can'tget something. "

If anything, her efforts were more poorly rewarded on this trail thanthe last. Her clothes were nothing suitable for fall wearing. Her lastmoney she had spent for a hat. For three days she wandered about, utterly dispirited. The attitude of the flat was fast becomingunbearable. She hated to think of going back there each evening. Hansonwas so cold. She knew it could not last much longer. Shortly she wouldhave to give up and go home. 

On the fourth day she was down town all day, having borrowed ten centsfor lunch from Minnie. She had applied in the cheapest kind of placeswithout success. She even answered for a waitress in a small restaurantwhere she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experiencedgirl. She moved through the thick throng of strangers, utterly subduedin spirit. Suddenly a hand pulled her arm and turned her about. 

" Well, well!" said a voice. In the first glance she beheld Drouet. Hewas not only rosy-cheeked, but radiant. He was the essence of sunshineand good-humor. 

" Why, how are you, Carrie?" he said. " You're a daisy

Where have been?"

Carrie smiled under his irresistible flood of geniality. 

" I've been out home, " she said. 

" Well, " he said, " I saw you across the street there. I thought it wasyou. I was just coming out to your place. 

How are you, anywhere?"

" I'm all right, " said Carrie, smiling. 

Drouet looked her over and saw something different. 

" Well, " he said, " I want to talk to you. You're not going anywhere inparticular, are you?"

" Not just now, " said Carrie. 

" Let's go up here and have something to eat. George! but I'm glad tosee you again. "

She felt so relieved in his radiant presence, so much though with theslightest air of holding back. 

" Well, " he said, as he took her arm-and there was an exuberance ofgood-fellowship in the word which fairly warmed the cockles of herheart. 

They went through Monroe Street to the old Windson dining-room, whichwas then a large, comfortable place with an excellent cuisine andsubstantial service. Drouet selected a table close by the window, wherethe busy route of the street could be seen. He loved the changingpanorama of the street-to see and be seen as he dined. 

" Now, " he said, getting Carrie and himself comfortably settled, " whatwill you have?"

Carrie looked over the large bill of fare which the waiter handed herwithout really considering it. She was very hungry, and the things shesaw there awakened her desires, but the high prices held her attention. " Half broiled spring chicken-seventy-five. Sirloin steak withmushrooms-one twenty-five. " She had dimly heard of these things, butit seemed strange to be called to order from the list. 

" I'll fix this, " exclaimed Drouet. " Sst! waiter. "

That officer of the board, a full-chested, round-faced negro, approached, and inclined his ear. 

" Sirloin with mushrooms, " said Drouet. " Stuffed tomatoes. "

" Yassah, " assented the negro, nodding his head. 

" Hashed brown potatoes. "

" Yassah. "

" Asparagus. "

" Yassah. "

" And a pot of coffee. "

Drouet turned to Carrie. " I haven't had a thing since breakfast. Justgot in from Rock Island. I was going off to dine when I saw you. "

Carrie smiled and smiled. 

" What have you been doing?" he went on. " Tell me all about yourself. How is your sister?"

" She's well, " returned Carrie, answering the last query. 

He looked at her hard. 

" Say, " he said, " you haven't been sick, have you?"

Carrie nodded. 

" Well, now that's a blooming shame, isn't it? You don't look verywell. I thought you looked a little pale. 

What have you been doing?"

" Working, " said Carrie. 

" You don't say so! At what?"

She told him. 

" Rhodes, Morgenthua and Scott-why I know that house. Over here onFifth Avenue, isn't it? They're a close-fisted concern. What made yougo there?"

" I couldn't get anything else, " said Carrie frankly. 

" Well, that's an outrage, " said Drouet. " You oughtn't to be workingfor those people. Have the factory right back of the store, don'tthey?"

" Yes, " said Carrie. 

" That isn't a good house, " said Drouet. " You don't want to work atanything like that, anyhow. "

He chattered on at a great rate, asking questions, explaining thingsabout himself, telling her what a good restaurant it was, until thewaiter returned with an immense tray, bearing the hot savory dishedwhich had been ordered. Drouet fairly shone in the matter of serving. He appeared to great advantage behind the white napery and silverplatters of the table and displaying his arms with a knife and fork. Ashe cut the meat his rings almost spoke. His new suit creaked as hestretched to helped Carrie to a rousing plateful and contributed thewarmth of his spirit to her body until she was a new girl. He was asplendid fellow in the true popular understanding of the term, andcaptivated Carrie completely. 

That little soldier of fortune took her good turn in an easy way. Shefelt a little out of place, but the great room soothed her and the viewof the well-dressed throng outside seemed a splendid thing. Ah, whatwas it not to have money! What a thing it was to be able to come inhere and dine! Drouet must be fortunate. He rod on trains, dressed insuch nice clothes, was so strong, and ate in these fine places. Heseemed quite a figure of a man, and she wondered at his friendship andregard for her. 

" So you lost your place because you got sick, eh?" he said. " What areyou going to do now?"

" Look around, " she said, a thought of the need that hung outside thisfine restaurant like a hungry dog at her wheels passing into her eyes. 

" Oh, no, " said Drouet, " that won't do. How long have you beenlooking?"

" Four days, " she answered. 

" Think of that!" he said, addressing some problematical individual. "You oughtn't to be doing anything like that. These girls, " and he wavedan inclusion of all shop and factory girls, " don't get anything. Why, you can't live on it, can you?"

He was a brotherly sort of creature in his demeanor. When he hadscouted the idea of that kind of toil, he took another tack. Carrie wasreally very pretty. Even then in her commonplace garb, her figure wasevidently not bad, and her eyes were large and gentle. Drouet looked ather and his thoughts reached home. She felt his admiration. It waspowerfully backed by his liberality and good-humor. She felt that sheliked him-that she could continue to like him ever so much. There wassomething even richer than that, running as a hidden strain, in hermind. Every little while her eyes would meet his, and by that means theinterchanging current of feeling would be fully connected. 

" 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. 

" Oh, I can't, " she said. 

" What are you going to do to-night?"

" Nothing, " she answered, a little drearily. 

" You don't like out there where you are, do you?"

" Oh I don't know. "

" What are you going to do if you don't get work?"

" Go back home, I guess. "

There was least quaver in her voice as she said this. Somehow, theinfluence he was exerting was powerful. They came to an understandingof each other without words-he of her situation. She of the fact thathe realized it. 

" No, " he said, " you can't make it!" genuine sympathy filling his mindfor the time. " Let me help you. You take some of my money"

" Oh, no! she said, leaning back. 

" What are you going to do?" he said. 

She sat meditating, merely shaking her head. 

He looked at her quite tenderly for his kind. There were some loosebills in his vest pocket-greenbacks They were soft and noiseless, andhe got his fingers about them and crumpled them up in his hand. 

" Carrie on, " he said, " I'll see you through all right. Get yourselfsome clothes. "

It was the first reference he had made to that subject, and now sherealized how bad off she was. In his crude way he had struck the key-note. Her lips trembled a little. 

She had her hand out on the table before her. They were quite alone intheir corner, and he put his larger, warmer hand over it. 

" Aw, come, Carrie, " he said, " what can you do alone? Let me helpyou. "

He pressed her hand gently and she tried to withdraw it. At this heheld it fast, and she no longer protested. Then he slipped thegreenbacks he had into her palm, and when she began to protest, hewhispered:

" I'll loan to you-that's all right. I'll loan it to you. "

He made her take it. She felt bound to him by a strange tie ofaffection now. They went out, and he walked with her take it. She feltbound to him by a walked with her far out south toward Polk Street, talking. 

" 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. 

" Could down and meet me to-morrow, " he said, " and we'll go to thematinee. Will you?

Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced. 

" You're not doing anything. Get yourself a nice pair of shoes and ajacket. "

She scarcely gave a though to the complication which would trouble herwhen he was gone. In his presence, she was of his own hopeful, easy-way-out mood. 

" Don't you bother about those people out there, " he said at parting. "I'll help you. "

Carrie left him, feeling as though a great arm had slipped out beforeher to draw off trouble. The money she had accepted was two soft, green, handsome ten dollar bills. 

Chapter VIITHE LURE OF THE MATERIAL: BEAUTY SPEAKS FORITSELF

The true meaning of money yet remains to be popularly explained andcomprehended. When each individual realizes for himself that this thingprimarily stands for and should only be accepted as a moral due-that itshould be paid out as honestly stored energy, and not as a usurpedprivilege-many of our social, religious, and political troubles willhave permanently passed. As for Carrie, her understanding of the moralsignificance of money was the popular understanding, nothing more. Theold definition: " Money : something everybody else has had and I mustget, " would have expressed her understanding of it thoroughly. Some ofit she now held in her hand-two soft, green ten-dollar bills-and shefelt that she was immensely better off for the having of them. It wassomething that was power in itself. One of her order of mind would havebeen content to be cast away upon a desire island with a bundle ofmoney, and only the long strain of starvation would have taught herthat in some cases it could have no value. Even then she would have hadno conception of the relative value of the thing; her one thoughtwould, undoubtedly, have concerned the pity of having so much power andthe inability to use it. 

The poor girl thrilled as she walked away from Drouet. She felt ashamedin part because she had been weak enough to take it, but her need wasso dire, she was still glad. Now she would have a nice jacket! Now shewould buy a nice pair button shoes. She would get stockings too, andskirts, and, and-until already, as in matter of her desires, twice thepurchasing power of her bills. She conceived a true estimate of Drouet. To her, and indeed to all the world, he was a nice, good-hearted, as inthe matter of her prospective salary, she had got beyond, in herdesires, twice the purchasing power of her bills. 

She conceived a true estimate of Drouet. To her, and indeed to all theworld, he was a nice, good-hearted man. There was nothing evil in thefellow. He gave her the want. He would not have given the same amountto a poor young man, but we must not forget that a poor young man couldnot, in the nature of things, have appealed to him like a poor younggirl. Femininity affected his feelings. He was the creature of aninborn desire. Yet no beggar could have caught his eye and said, " MyGod, mister, I'm starving, " but he would gladly have handed out whatwas considered the proper portion to give beggars and though no moreabout it. There would have been no speculation, no philosophizing. Hehad no mental process in him worthy the dignity of either of thoseterms. In his good clothes and fine health, he was a merry, unthinkingmoth of the lamp. Deprived of his position, and struck by a few of theinvolved and baffling forces which sometimes play upon man, he wouldhave been as helpless as Carrie-as helpless, as nonunderstanding, aspitiable, if you will, as she. 

Now, in regard to his pursuit of women, he meant them no harm, becausehe did not conceive of the relation which he hoped to hold with them asbeing harmful. He loved to make advances to women, to have them succumbto his charms, not because his inborn desire urged him to that as achief delight. He was vain, he was boastful, he was as deluded by fineclothes as any silly-headed girl. As truly deep-dyed villain could havehornswaggled him as readily as he could have flattered a pretty shop-girl. His fine success as a salesman lay in his geniality and thethoroughly 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 adjectives noble, no feelings long continued inone strain. A Madame Sappho would have called him a pig; a Shakespearewould have said " my merry child;" old, drinking Caryoe thought him aclever, successful business man. In short, he was as good as hisintellect conceived. 

The best proof that there was something open and commendable about theman was the fact that Carrie took the money. No deep, sinister soulwith ulterior motives could have given her fifteen cents under theguise of friendship. The unintellectual are not so helpless. Nature hastaught the beasts of the field to fly when some, unheralded dangerthreatens. She has put into the small, unwise head of the chipmunk theuntutored dear of poisons. " He keepeth His creatures whole, " was notwritten of beasts alone. Carrie was unwise, and, therefore, like thesheep in its unwisdom, strong in feeling. The instinct of self-protection, strong in all such natures, was roused but feebly, if atall, by the overtures of Drouet. 

When Carrie had gone, he felicitated himself upon her good opinion. ByGeorge, it was shame young girls had to be knocked around like that. Cold weather coming on and no clothes. Tough. He would go around toFitzgerald and Moy's and get a cigar. It made him feel light of foot ashe thought about her. 

Carrie reached home in high good spirits, which she could scarcelyconceal. The possession of the money involved a number of points whichperplexed her seriously. He should she buy any clothes when Minnie knewthat she had no money? She had no sooner entered the flat than thispoint was settled for her. It could not be done. She could think of noway of explaining. 

" How did you come out?" asked Minnie, referring to the day. 

Carrie had none of the small deception which could feel one thing andsay something directly opposed. She would prevaricate, but it would bein the line of her feelings, at least. So instead of complaining whenshe felt so good, she said:

" I have the promise of something. "

" Where?"

" At the Boston Store. "

" Is it sure promised?" questioned Minnie. 

" Well, I'm to find out to-morrow, " returned Carrie disliked to drawout a lie any longer than was necessary. 

Minnie felt the atmosphere of good feeling which Carrie brought withher. She felt now was the time to express to Carrie the state ofHanson's feeling about her entire Chicago venture. 

" If you shouldn't get it-" she paused, troubled for an easy way. 

" If I don't get something pretty soon, I think I'll go home. "

Minnie saw her chance. 

" Sven thinks it might be best for the winter, anyhow. "

The situation flashed on Carrie at once. They were unwilling to keepher any longer, out of work. She did not blame Minnie, she did notblame Hanson very much. Now, as she sat there digesting the remark, shewas glad she had Drouet's money. 

" Yes, " she said after a few moments, " I thought of doing that. "

She did not explain that the though, however, had aroused all theantagonism of her nature. Columbia City, what was there for her? Sheknew its dull little round by heart. Here was the great, mysteriouscity which was still a magnet for her. What she had seen only suggestedits possibilities. Now to turn back on it and live the little old lifeout there-she almost exclaimed against the thought. 

She had reached home early and went in the front room to think. Whatcould she do? She could not buy new shoes and wear them here. She wouldneed to save part of the twenty to pay her fare home. She did not wantto borrow of Minnie for that. And yet how could she explain where sheeven got that money? If she could only get enough to let her out easy. 

She went over the tangle again and again. Here, in the morning, Drouetwould expect to see her in a new jacket, and that couldn't be. TheHansons expected her to go home, and she wanted to get away, and yetshe did not want to go home. In the light of the way they would look onher getting money without work, the taking of it now seemed dreadful. She began to be ashamed. The whole situation depressed her. It was allso clear when she was with Drouet. Now it was all so tangled, sohopeless-much worse than it was before, because she had the semblanceof aid in her hand which she could not use. 

Her spirits sank so that at supper Minnie felt that she must have hadanother hard day. Carrie finally decided that she would give the moneyback. It was wrong to take it. She would go down in the morning andhunt for work. At noon she would meet Drouet as agreed and tell him. Atthis decision her heart sank, until she was the old Carrie ofdistress. 

Curiously, she could not hold the money in her hand without feelingsome relief. Even after all her depressing conclusions, she could sweepaway all thought about the matter and then the twenty dollars seemed awonderful and delightful thing. Ah, money, money, money! What a thingit was to have. How plenty of it would clear away all these troubles. 

In the morning she got up and started out a little early. Her decisionto hunt for work was moderately strong, but the money in her pocket, after all her troubling over it, made the work question the least shadeless terrible. She walked into the wholesale district, but as thethought of applying came with each passing concern, her heart shrank. What a coward she was, she thought to herself. Yet she had applied sooften. It would be the same old story. She walked on and on, andfinally did go into one place, with the old result. She came outfeeling that luck was against her. It was no use. 

Without much thinking, she reached Dearborn Street. Here was the greatFair store with its multitude of delivery wagons about, its long windowdisplay, its crowd of shoppers. It readily changed her thoughts, shewho was so weary of them. It was here that she had intended to come andget her new things. Now for relief from distress; she thought she wouldgo in and see. She would look at the jackets. 

There is nothing in this world more delightful than that middle statein which we mentally balance at times, possessed of the means, lured bydesire, and yet deterred by conscience or what of decision. When Carriebegan wandering around the store amid the fine displays she was in thismood. Her original experience in this same place had given her a highopinion 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 desirefor them. How would she look in this, how charming that would make her!She came upon the corset counter and pauses in rich reverie as shenoted the dainty concoctions of color and lace their displayed. If shewould only make up her mind, she could have one or those now. Shelingered in the jewelry department. She saw the earrings, thebracelets, the pins, the chains. What would she not have given if shecould have had them all! She would look fine too, if only she had someof these things. 

The jackets were the greatest attraction. When she entered the store, she already had her heart fixed upon the peculiar little tan jacketwith large mother-of-pearl buttons which was all the rage that fall. Still she delighted to convince herself that there was nothing shewould like better. She went about among the glass cases and racks wherethese things were displayed, and satisfied herself that the one shethought of was the proper one. All the time she wavered in mind, nowpersuading herself that she could buy it right away if she chose, nowrecalling to herself the actual condition. At last the noon hour wasdangerously near, and she had done nothing. She must go now and returnthe money. 

Drouet was on the corner when she came up. 

" Hello, " he said, " where is the jacket and"-looking down-" theshoes?"

Carrie had thought lead up to her decision in some intelligent way, butthis swept the whole fore-schemed situation by the board. 

" I came to tell you that-that I can't take the money. "

" Oh, that's it, is it?" he returned. " Well, you come on with me. Let's go over here to Partridge's. "

Carrie walked with him. Behold, the whole fabric of doubt andimpossibility had slipped from her mind. She could not get at thepoints that were so serious, the things she was going to make plain tohim. 

" Have you had lunch yet? Of course you haven't. Let's go in here, " andDrouet turned into one of the very nicely furnished restaurants offState Street, in Monroe. 

" I mustn't take money, " said Carrie, after they were settled in a cozycorner, and Drouet had ordered the lunch. " I can't wear those thingsout there. They wouldn't know where I got them. "

" What do you want to do, " he smiled, " go without them?"

" I think I'll go home, " she said, wearily. 

" Oh, come, " he said, " you've been thinking it over too long. I'lltell you what you do. You rent a furnished room and leave them in thatfor a week?"

Carrie shook her head. Like all women, she was there to object and beconvinced. It was for him to brush the doubts away and clear the pathif he could. 

" Why are you going home?" he asked. 

" Oh, I can't get anything here. "

" They won't keep you?" he remarked, intuitively. 

" They can't" said Carrie. 

" I'll tell you what you do, " he said. " You come with me. I'll takecare of you. "

Carrie heard this passively. The peculiar state which she was in madeit sound like the welcome breath of an open door. Drouet seemed of herown spirit and pleasing. He was clean, handsome, well-dressed, andsympathetic. His voice was the voice of a friend. 

" What can you do back at Columbia City?" he went on, rousing by thewords 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 anice room. 

Carrie looked out through the window into the busy street. There itwas, the admirable, great city, so fine sing pair of bays, passed by, carrying in its upholstered depths a young lady. 

" What will you have if you go back?" asked Drouet. There was no subtleundercurrent to the question. He imagined that she would have nothingat all of the things he thought worth while. 

Carrie sat still, looking out. She was wondering what she could do. They would be expecting her to go home this week. 

Drouet turned to the subject of the clothes she was going to buy. 

" 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 canget yourself a nice room by yourself. I won't hurt you. "

Carrie saw the drift, but could not express her thoughts. She felt morethan ever the helplessness of her case. 

" If I could only get something to do, " she said. 

" Maybe you can, " went on Drouet, " if you stay here. You can't if yougo away. They won't let you stay out there. Now, why not let me get youa nice room? I won't bother you needn't be afraid. Then, when you getfixed up, maybe you could get something. "

He looked at her pretty face and vivified his mental resources. She wasa sweet little mortal to him-there was no doubt of that. She seemed tohave some power back of her actions. She was not like the common run ofstore-girls. She wasn't silly. 

In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he-more taste. It was afiner mental strain in her that made possible her depression andloneliness. Her poor clothes were neat, and she held her headunconsciously in a dainty way. 

" DO you think I could get something?" she asked. 

" Sure, " he said, reaching over and filling her cup with tea. " I'llhelp you. "

She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly. 

" Now I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go over her to Partridge's andyou pick out what you want. The we'll look around for a room for you. You can leave the things there. Then we'll go to the show to-night. "

Carrie shook her head. 

" We'll, you can go out to the flat them, that's all right You don'tneed to stay in the room. Just take it and leave your things there. "

She hung in doubt about this until the dinner was over. 

" Let's go over and look at the jackets, " he said. 

Together they went. In the store they found that shine and rustle ofnew things which immediately laid hold of Carrie's heart. Under theinfluence of a good dinner and Drouet's radiating presence, the schemeproposed seemed feasible. She looked about and picked a jacket likethe one which she had admired at The Fair. When she got it in her handit seemed so much nicer. The saleswoman helped her on with it, and, byaccident it fitted perfectly. Drouet's face lightened as he saw theimprovement. She looked quite smart. 

" That's the thing, " he said. 

Carrie turned before the glass. She could not help feeling pleased asshe looked at herself. A warm glow crept into her cheeks. 

" That's the thing, " said Drouet. " Now pay for it. "

" It's nine dollar, " said Carrie. 

" That's all right-take it, " said Drouet. 

She reached in her purse and took out one of the bills. The woman askedif she would wear the coat and went off. In a few minutes she was backand the purchase was closed. 

From Partridge's they went to a shoe store, where Carrie was fitted forshoes. Drouet stood by, and when he saw how nice they looked, said, "Wear them. " Carrie shook her head, however. She was thinking of runningto the flat. He brought her a purse for one thing and a pair of glovesfor another, and let her buy the stockings. 

" To-morrow, " he said, " you come down here and buy yourself a skirt. "	In all of Carrie's actions there was a touch of misgiving. Thedeeper she sank into the entanglement, the more she imagined that thething hung upon the few remaining things she had not done. Since shehad not done these, there was a way out. 

Drouet knew a place in Wabash Avenue where there were rooms. He showedCarrie the outside of these, and said: " Now, you're my sister. " Hecarried to the selection looking around, criticizing, opining. " Hertrunk will be here in a day or so, he observed to the landlady, who wasvery pleased. 

When they went alone, Drouet did not change in the least. He talked inthe same general way as if they were out in the street. Carrie left herthings. 

" Now, " said Drouet, " why don't you move to-night?"

" Oh, I can't, " said Carrie. 

" Why not?"

" I don't want to leave them so. "

He took that up as they walked along the avenue. It was a warmafternoon. The sun had come out and the wind had died down. As hetalked with Carrie, he secured an accurate detail of the atmosphere ofthe flat. 

" Come out of it, " he said, " they won't care. I'll help you getalong. "

She listened until her misgiving vanished. He would show her about alittle and then help her get something. He really imagined that hewould. He would be out on the road and she could be working. 

" Now, I'll tell you what you do, " you go out there and get whateveryou want and come away. "

She though a long time about this. Finally she agreed. He would comeout as far as Peoria Street and wait for her. She was to meet him athalf-past eight. At half-past five she reached home, and at six herdetermination was hardened. 

" So you didn't get it?" said Minnie, referring to Carrie's story ofthe Boston Store. 

Carrie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. " No, " she answered. 

" I don't think you'd better try any more this fall, " said Minnie. 

Carrie said nothing. 

When Hanson came home he wore the same inscrutable demeanor. He washedin silence and went off to read his paper. At dinner Carrie felt alittle nervous. The strain of her own plans was considerable, and thefeeling that she was not welcome here was strong. 

" Didn't find anything, eh?" said Hanson. 

" No. "

He turned to his eating again, the though that it was a burden to haveher here dwelling in his mind. She would have to go home, that wasall. Once she was away, there would be no more coming back in thespring

Carrie was afraid of what she was going to do, but she was relieved toknow that this condition was ending. They would not care. Hansonparticularly would be glad when she went. He would not care what becameof her. 

After dinner she went into the bathroom, where they could not disturbher, and wrote a little note. 

" Good-bye, Minnie, " it read. " I'm not going home. I'm going to stayin Chicago a little while and look for work. Don't worry. I'll be allright. "

In the front room Hanson was reading his paper. As usual, she helpedMinnie clear away the dishes and straighten up. Then she:

" I guess I'll stand down at the door a little while. " She couldscarcely prevent her voice from trembling. 

Minnie remembered Hanson's remonstrance. 

" Sven doesn't think it looks good to stand down there, " she said. 

" Doesn't he?" said Carrie. " I won't do it any more after this. "

She put on her hat and fidgeted around the table in the littlebedroom, wondering where to slip the note. Finally she put it underMinnie's hair-brush. 

When she had closed the hall-door, she paused a moment and wonderedwhat they would think. Some thought of the queerness of her deedaffected her. She went slowly down the stairs. She looked back up thelighted step, and then affected to stroll up the street. When shereached the corner she quickened her pace. 

As she was hurrying away, Hanson came back to his wife. 

" Is Carrie down at the door again?" he asked. 

" Yes, said Minnie; " she said she wasn't going to do it any more. "

He went over to the baby where it was playing on the floor and began topoke his finger at it. 

Drouet was on the corner waiting, in good spirits. 

" Hello, Carrie, " he said, as a sprightly figure of a girl drew nearhim. " Got here safe, did you? Well, we'll take a car. "

Chapter VIIIINTIMATIONS BY WINTER: AN AMBASSADOR SUMMONER

 Among the force which sweep and play throughout the universe, untutored man is but a wisp in the wind. Our civilization is still in amiddle stage, scarcely beast in that it is no longer wholly guided byinstinct; scarcely human, in that it is not yet wholly guided byreason. On the tiger no responsibility rests. We see him aligned bynature with the forces of life-he is born into their keeping andwithout though he is protected. We see man far removed from the lairsof the jungles, his innate instincts dulled by too near an approach tofree-will, his free-will not sufficiently developed to replace hisinstincts and afford him perfect guidance. He is becoming too wise tohearken always to instincts and desires; he is still too weak to alwaysprevail against them. As a beast, the forces of life aligned him withthem; with the forces. In this intermediate stage he wavers-neitherdrawn in her money with nature by his instincts nor yet wisely puttinghimself into harmony by his own free-will. He is even as wisp in thewind, moved by every breath of passion, acting now by his will and nowby his instincts, erring with one, only-a creature of incalculablevariability. We have the consolation of knowing that evolution is everin action, that the ideal is a light that cannot fail. He will notforever balance thus between good and evil. When this jangle of free-will and instinct shall have been adjusted, when perfect understandinghas given the former the power to replace the latter entirely, man willno longer vary. The nettle of understanding will yet point steadfastand unwavering to the distant pole of truth. 

In Carrie-as in how many of our wordings do they not?-instinct andreason, desire and understanding, were at war for the mastery. Shefollowed whither her craving led. She was as yet more drawn than shedrew. 

When Minnie found the note next morning, after a night of mingledwonder and anxiety, which was not exactly touched by yearning, sorrow, or love, she exclaimed:

" Well, what do you think of that?"

" What?" said Hanson. 

" Sister Carrie has gone to live somewhere else. "

Hanson jumped out of bed with more celerity than he usually displayedand looked at the note. The only indication of his thoughts came in theform of a little clicking sound made by his tongue; the sound somepeople make when they wish to urge on a horse. 

" Where do you suppose she's gone to?" said Minnie thoroughly aroused. 

" I don't know, " a touch of cynicism lighting his eye. 

" Now she has gone and done it. "

Minnie moved her head in a puzzled way. 

" Oh, oh, " she said, " she doesn't know what she has done. "

" Well, " said Hanson after a while, sticking his hands out before him, " what can you do?"

Minnie's womanly nature was higher than this. She figured thepossibilities in such cases. 

" Oh, " she said at least, " poor Sister Carrie!"

At the time of this particular conversation, which occurred at 5 am, that little soldier of fortune was sleeping in rather troubled sleep inher new room, alone. 

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 Drouetwould do. That worthy had his future fixed for him beyond aperadventure. He could not see clearly enough to wish to dodifferently. He was drawn by his innate desire to act the old pursuingpart. He would need to delight himself with Carrie as surely as hewould need to eat his heavy breakfast. He might suffer the leastrudimentary twinge of conscience in whatever he did, and in just sofar he was evil and sinning. But whatever twinges of conscience hemight have would be rudimentary, you may be sure. 

The next day he called upon Carrie, and she saw him in her chamber. Hewas the same jolly, enlivening soul. 

" Aw, " he said, " what are you looking so blue about? Come on out tobreakfast. You want to get your other clothes to-day. "

Carrie looked at him with the hew of shifting thought in her largeeyes. 

" I wish I could get something to do, " she said. 

" You'll get that all right, " said Drouet. " What's the use worryingright now? Get yourself fixed up. See the city. I won't hurt you. "

" I know you won't, " she remarked, half truthfully. 

" Got on the new shoes, haven't you? Stick 'em out George, they lookfine. Put on your jacket. "

Carrie obeyed. 

" Say, that fits like a T, don't it?" he remarked, feeling the set ofit at the waist and eyeing it from a few paces with real pleasure. "What you need now is a new shirt. Let's go to breakfast. "

Carrie put on her hat. 

" Where are the gloves?" he inquired. 

" Here, " she said, taking them out of the bureau drawer. 

" Now, come on, " he said. 

Thus the first hour of misgiving was swept away. 

It went this way on every occasion. Drouet did not leave her muchalone. She had time for some lone wanderings, but mostly he filled herhours with skirt and shirt waist. With his money she purchased thelittle necessaries of toilet, until at last she looked quite anothermaiden. The mirror convinced her of a few things which she had longbelieved. She was pretty, yes, indeed! How nice her had set, andweren't her eyes pretty. She caught her little red lip with her teethand felt her first thrill of power Drouet was so good. 

They went to see " The Mikado" one evening, an open which washilariously popular at that time. Before going they made off for theWindsor dinning-room, which was in Dearborn Street, a considerabledistance from Carrie's room. It was blowing up cold, and out of herwindow. Carrie could see the western sky, still pink with the fadinglight, but steely blue at the top where it met the darkness. A long, thin cloud of pink hung in midair, shape like some island in a far-offsea. Somehow the swaying of some dead branches of trees across the waybrought back the picture with which she was familiar when she lookedfrom their front window in December days a home. 

She paused and wrung her little hands. 

" What's the matter?" said Drouet. 

" Oh, I don't know, " she said, her lip trembling. 

He sensed something, and slipped his arm over her shoulder, patting herarm. 

" Come on, " he said gently, " you're all right. "

She turned to slip on her jacket. 

" Better wear that boa about throat to-night. "

They walked north on Wabash to Adams Street and then west. The lightsin the stores were already shinning out in gushes of golden hue. Theare lights were sputtering overhead, and high up were the lightedwindow of the tall office buildings. The chill wind whipped in and outin gusty breaths. Homeward bound, the six o'clock throng bumped andjostled. Light overcoats were turned up about the ears, hats werepulled down. Little shop girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours, chattering, laughing. It was a spectacle of warm-blooded humanity. 

Suddenly a pair of eye met Carrie's in recognition. They were lookingout from a group of poorly dressed girls. Their clothes were faded andloose-hanging, their jackets old, their general make-up shabby. 

Carrie recognized the glance and the girl. She was one of those whoworked at the machines in the shoe factory. The latter looked, Carriefelt as if some great tide had rolled between them. The old dress andthe old machine came back. She actually started. Drouet didn't notice

until Carrie bumped into a pedestrian. 

" You must be thinking, " he said. 

They dined and went to the theatre. That spectacle pleased Carrieimmensely. The color and grace of it caught her eye. She had vainimaginings about place. And power, about far-off lands and magnificentpeople. When it was over, the clatter of coaches and the throng of fineladies made her stare. 

" Wait a minute, " said Drouet, holding her back in the showy foyerwhere ladies and gentlemen were moving in a social crush, skirtsrustling, lace-covered heads nodding, white teeth showing throughparted lips. " Let's see. "

" Sixty-seven, " the coach-caller was saying, his voice lifted in a sortof euphonious cry. " Sixty-seven. "

" Isn't it fine?" said Carrie. 

" Great, " said Drouet. He was as much affected by this show of fineryand gayety as she. He pressed her arm warmly. Once she looked up, hereven teeth glistening through her smiling lips, her eyes alight. Asthey were moving out he whispered down to her, " You look lovely!" Theywere right where the coach-caller was swinging open a coach-door andushering in two ladies. 

" You stick to me and we'll have a coach. " laughed Drouet. 

Carrie scarcely heard, her head was so full of the swig of life. 

They stopped in at a restaurant for a little after-theater lunch. Justa shade of a though of the hour entered Carrie's head, but there was nohousehold law to govern her now. If any habits ever had time to fixupon her things. They will drive the really non-religious mind out ofbed to say prayers that are only a custom and not a devotion. Thevictim of habit, when he had neglected the thing which it was hiscustom to do, feels a little scratching in the brain, a littleirritating something which comes of being out of the rut, and images itto be that prick of conscience, the still, small voice that is urginghim ever to righteousness. If the digression is unusual enough, thedrag of habit will be heavy enough to cause the unreasoning victim toreturn and perform the perfunctory thing. " Now, bless me, as a matterof fact, it has merely done its old, unbreakable trick once again. 

Carrie had no excellent home principles fixed upon her. If she had, shewould have been more consciously distressed. Now the lunch went offwith considerable warmth. Under the influence of the variedoccurrences, the fine, invisible passion which was emanating fromDrouet, the food, the still unusual luxury, she relaxed and heard withopen ears. She was again the victim of the city's hypnotic influence. 

" Well, " said Drouet at last, " we had better be going. "

They had been dawdling over the dishes, and their eyes had frequentlymet. Carrie could not help but feel the vibration of force whichfollowed, which, indeed, was his gaze. He had a way of touching herhand in explanation, as if to impress a fact upon her. He touched itnow as he spoke of going. 

They arose and went out into the street. The downtown section was nowbare, save for a few whistling strollers, a few owl cars, a few openresorts whose windows were still bright. Out Wabash Avenue theystrolled Drouet still pouring forth his volume of small information. Hehad Carrie's arm in his, and held it closely as be explained. Once in awhile, after some witticism, he would look down, and his eyes wouldmeet hers. At last they came to the steps, and Carrie stood up on thefirst one, her hand head now coming even with his own. He took her handand held it genially. He looked steadily at her as she glanced about, warmly musing. 

At about that hour, Minnie was soundly sleeping, after a long eveningof troubled thought. She had her elbow in an awkward position under herside. The muscles so held irritated a few nerves, and now a vague scenefloated in on the drowsy mind. She fancied she and Carrie weresomewhere beside an old coal-mine. She could see the tall runway andthe heap of earth and coal cast out. There was a deep pit, into whichthey were looking; they could see the curious wet stones far down wherethe wall disappeared in vague shadows. An old basket, used fordescending, was hanging there, fastened by a worn rope. 

" Let's get in, " said Carrie. 

" Oh, no, " said Minnie. 

" Yes, come on, " said Carrie. 

She began to pull the basket over, and now, in spite of all protest, she had swung over and was going down. 

" Carrie, " she called, " Carrie, come back;" but Carrie was far downnow and the shadow had swallowed her completely. 

She moved her arm. 

Now the mystic scenery merged queerly and the place was by waters shehad never seen. They were upon some board or ground or something thatreached 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 theencroaching water. 

" Come on, Carrie, " she called, but Carrie was reaching farther out. She seemed to recede, and now it was difficult to call to her. 

" Carrie, " she called, " Carrie, " but her own voice sounded far away, and the strange waters were blurring everything. She came awaysuffering as though she had lost something. She was more inexpressiblysad thus she had ever been in life. 

It was this way through many shifts of the tired brain, those curiousphantoms of the spirit slipping in, blurring strange scenes, one withthe other. The last one made her cry out, for Carrie was slipping awaysomewhere over a rock, and her fingers had let loose and she had seenher falling. 

" Minnie! What's the matter? Here, wake up, " said Hanson, disturbed, and shaking her by the shoulder. 

" Wha-what's the matter?" said Minnie, drowsily. 

" Wake up, " he said, " and turn over. You're talking in your sleep. "

A week or so later Drouet strolled into Fitzgerald and Moy's spruce indress and manner. 

" Hello, Charley, " said Hurstwood, looking out from his office door. 

Drouet strolled over and looked in upon the manger at his desk. 

" When do you go out on the road again?" he inquired. 

" Pretty soon, " said Drouet. 

" Haven't seen much of you this trip, " said Hurstwood. 

" Well, I've been busy, " said Drouet. 

They talked some few minutes on general topics. 

" Say, " said Drouet, as if stuck by a sudden idea, " I want you to comeout some evening. "

" Out where?" inquired Hurstwood. 

" Out to my house, of course, " said Drouet smiling. 

Hurstwood looked up quizzically, the least suggestion of a smilehovering about his lips. He studied the face of Drouet in his wise way, and then with the demeanor of a gentlemen, said: " Certainly; glad to. "

" We'll have a nice game of euchre. "

" May I bring a nice little bottle of Sec?" asked Hurstwood. 

" Certainly, " said Drouet. " I'll introduce you. "

Chapter XTHE COUNSEL OF WINTER: FORTUNE'S AMBASSADOR CALLS

 In the light of the world's attitude toward woman and her duties, thenature of Carrie's mental state deserves consideration. Actions such ashers are measured by an arbitrary scale. Society possesses aconventional standard whereby it judges all things. All men should begood, all women virtuous. Wherefore, villain, hast thou failed?

For all the liberal analysis of Spencer and our modern naturalisticphilosophers, we have but an infantile perception of morals. There ismore in the subject than mere conformity to a law of evolution. It isyet deeper than conformity to things of earth alone. It is moreinvolved than we, as yet, perceive. Answer, first, why the heartthrills; explain wherefore some plaintive note goes wandering about theworld, undying; make clear the rose's stable alchemy evolving itsruddy lamp in light and rain. In the essence of these facts lie thefirst principles of morals. 

" Oh, " though Drouet, " how delicious is my conquest. "

" Ah, " though Carrie, with mournful misgivings, " what is it I havelost?"

Before this world-old proposition we stand, serious, interested, confused; endeavoring to evolve the true theory of morals-the trueanswer to what is right. 

In the view of a certain stratum of society, Carrie was comfortablyestablished-in eyes of the traveling, beaten by every wind and gustysheet of rain, she was safe in a halcyon harbor. Drouet had taken threerooms, 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 vistapleasant to contemplate. The best room looked out upon the lawn of thepark, now sear and brown, where a little lake lay sheltered. Over thebare limbs of the trees, which now swayed in the wintry wind, rose thesteeple of the Union park Congregational Church, and far off the towersof several others. 

The rooms were comfortably enough furnished. There was good Brusselscarpet on the floor, rich in dull red and lemon shades, andrepresenting large jardinières filled with gorgeous, impossibleflowers. There was a large pier-glass mirror between the two windows. A large, soft, green, plush-covered couch occupied one corner, andseveral rocking-chairs were set about. Some pictures, several rugs, afew small pieces of bric-a-brac, and the tale of contents is told. 

In the bedroom, off the front room, was Carrie's trunk, bought byDrouet, and in the wardrobe built into the wall quite an array ofclothing-more than she had ever possessed before, and of very becomingdesigns. There was a third room for possible use as a kitchen, whereDrouet had Carrie establish a little portable gas stove for thepreparation of small lunches, oysters, Welsh rarebits, and the like, ofwhich he was exceedingly fond; and, lastly a bath. The whole place wascozy, in that it was lighted by gas and heated by furnace registers, possessing also a small grate, set with an asbestos back, a method ofcheerful warming which was then first coming into use. By her industryand natural love of order, which now developed, the place maintained anair pleasing in the extreme. 

Here, then, was Carrie, established in a pleasant fashion, free ofcertain difficulties which most ominously confronted her, laden withmany new ones which were of a mental order, and altogether so turnedabout in all of her earthly relationships that she might well havebeen a new and different individual. She looked into her glass and sawa prettier Carrie than she had seen before; she looked into her mind, amirror prepared of her own and the world's opinions, and saw a worse. Between these two images she wavered, hesitating which to believe. 

" My, but you're a little beauty, " Drouet was went to exclaim to her. 

She would look at him with large, pleased eyes. 

" You know it, don't you?" he would continue. 

" Oh, I don't know, " she would reply, feeling delight in the fact thatone should think so, hesitating to believe, though she really did, thatshe was vain enough to think so much of herself. 

Her conscience, however, was not a Drouet, interested to praise. Thereshe heard a different voice, with which she argued, pleaded, excused. It was no just and sapient counselor, in its last analysis. It was onlyan average little conscience, habit, convention, in a confused way. With it, the voice of the people was truly the voice of God

" Oh, thou failure!" said the voice. 

" Why?" she questioned. 

" Look at those about, " came the whispered answer. " Look at those whoare good. How would they scorn to do what you have done. Look at thegood girls; how will they draw away from such as you when they know youhave been weak. You had not tried before you failed. "

It was when Carrie was alone, looking out across the park, that shewould be listening to this. It would come infrequently-when somethingelse did not interface 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 theDecember days threatened. She was alone; she was desireful; she wasfearful of the whistling wind. The voice of what made answer for her. 

Once the bright days of summer pass by, a city takes on that sombergarb of gray, wrapped in which it goes about its labors during the longwinter. Its endless buildings look gray, its sky and its street assumea somber hue; the scattered, leafless trees and wind-blown dust andpaper but add to the general solemnity of color. There seems to besomething in the chill breezes which scurry through the long, narrowthoroughfares productive of rueful thoughts. Not poets alone, norartist, nor that superior order of mind which arrogates to itself allrefinement, feel this, but dogs and all men. These feels as much as thepoet, though they have not the same power of expression. The sparrowupon the wire, the cat in the doorway, the dry horse tugging his wearyload, feel the long, keen breaths of winter. It strikes to the heart ofall life, animate and inanimate. If it were not for the artificialfires of merriment, the rush of profit-seeking trade, and pleasure-selling amusements; if the various merchants failed to make thecustomary display within and without their establishments; if ourstreets were not strung with signs of gorgeous hues and thronged withhurrying purchasers, we would quickly discover how firmly the chillhand of winter lays upon the heart; how dispiriting are the days duringwhich the sun withholds a portion of our allowance of light and warmth. We are more dependent upon these things than is often thought. We areinsects produced by heat, and pass without it. 

In the drag of such a gray day the secret voice would reassert itself, feebly and more feebly. 

Such mental conflict was not always uppermost. Carrie was not by anymeans a gloomy soul. More, she had not the mind to get firm hold adefinite truth. When she could not find her way out of the labyrinth ofill-logic which thought upon the subject created, she would tune awayentirely. 

Drouet, all the time, was conducting himself in a model way for one ofhis sort. He took her about a great deal spent money upon her, and whenhe traveled took her with him. There were times when she would be alonefor two or three days, while he made the shorter circuits of hisbusiness, but, as a rule, she saw a great deal of him. 

" Say. Carrie, " he said one morning, shortly after they had soestablished themselves, " I've invited my friend Hurstwood to come outsome day and spend the evening with us. "

" Who is he?" asked Carrie, doubtfully. 

" Oh, he's a mice man. He's manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's. "

" What that?" said Carrie. 

" The finest resort in town. It's a way-up, smell place. "

Carrie puzzled a moment. She was wondering what Drouet had told him, what her attitude would be. 

" That's all right, " said Drouet, feeling her thought. 

" He doesn't know anything. You're Mrs. Drouet now. "

There was something about this which struck Carrie as slightlyinconsiderate. She could see that Drouet did not have the keenestsensibilities. 

" Why don't we got married?" she inquired, thinking of the volublepromise he had made. 

" Well, we will, " he said, " just as soon as I get this little deal ofmine closed up. "

He was referring to some property which he said he had, and whichrequired so much attention, adjustment, and what not, that somehow orother it interested with his free moral, personal actions. 

" Just as soon as I get back from my Denver trip in January we'll doit. "

Carrie accepted this as basis for hope-it was a sort of salve to herconscience, a pleasant way out. Under the circumstances, things wouldbe righted. Her actions would be justified. 

She really was not enamored of Drouet. She was more clever than he. Ina dim way, she was beginning to see where he lacked. If it had not beenfor this, if she had not been able to measure and judge him a way, shewould have been utterly wretched in her fear of not gaining hisaffection, of losing his interest, of being swept away and left withoutan anchorage. As it was, she wavered a little, slightly anxious, atfirst, to gain him completely, but later feelings at ease in waiting. She was not exactly sure what she thought of him-what she wanted to do. 

When Hurstwood called, she met a man who was more clever than Drouet ina hundred ways. He paid that peculiar deference to women which everymember of the sex appreciates. He was not overawed, he was notoverbold. His great charm was attentiveness. Schooled in winning thosebirds of fine feather among his own sex, the merchants andprofessionals who visited his resort, he could use even greater tactwhen endeavoring to prove agreeable to some one who charmed him. In apretty woman of any refinement of feeling whatsoever he found hisgreatest incentive. His was mild, placid, assured, giving theimpression that he wished to be of service only-to do something whichwould make the lady more pleased. 

Drouet had ability in this fine himself when the game was worth thecandle, but he was too much the egotist to reach the polish whichHurstwood possessed. He was too buoyant, too full of ruddy life, tooassured. He succeeded with many who were not quite schooled in the artof love. He failed dismally where the woman was slightly experiencedand possessed innate refinement. In the case of Carrie he found a womanwho was all of the latter, but none of the former. He was lucky in thefact that opportunity tumbled into his lap, as it were. A few yearslater, with a little more experience, the slightest tide of success, and he had not been able to approach Carrie at all. 

" You ought to have a piano here, Drouet, " said Hurstwood, smiling atCarrie, on the evening in question, " so that your wife could play. "

Drouet had not though of that. 

" So we ought, " he observed readily. 

" Oh, I don't play, " ventured Carrie. 

" It's isn't very difficult, " returned Hurstwood. " You could do verywell in a few weeks. "

He was in the best form for entertaining this evening. His clothes wereparticularly new and rich in appearance. The coat lapels stood out withthat medium tidiness which excellent cloth possesses. The vast was of arich Scotch plaid, set with a double row of round mother-of pearlbuttons. His cravat was shiny combination of nice threads, not loud, not inconspicuous. What he wore did not strike the eye so forcibly asthat which. Drouet had on, but Carrie could see the elegance of thematerial. Hurstwood's shoes were of soft, black calf, polished only toa dull shine. Drouet wore patent leather, but Carrie could not helpfeeling that there was a distinction in favor of the soft leather, where all else was so rich. She noticed these things almostunconsciously. They were things which would naturally flow from thesituation. She was used to Drouet's appearance. 

" Suppose we have a little game of euchre?" He was Hurstwood, after alight round of conversation. He was rather dexterous in avoiding ofCarrie's past. He kept away from personalities altogether, and confinedhimself to these things which did not concern individuals at all. Byhis manner, he put Carrie at their ease, and by his deference andpleasantries he amused her. He pretended to be seriously interested inall she said. 

" I don't know hoe to play, " said Carrie. 

" Charlie, you are neglecting a part of your duty, " he observed toDrouet most affably. " Between us, though, " he went on, " we can showyou. "

By this tact he made Drouet feel that he admired his choice. There wassomething in his manner that showed that he was pleased to be there. Drouet felt really closer to him than ever before. It gave him morerespect for Carrie. Her appearance came into a new light, underHurstwood's appreciation. The situation livened considerably. 

" Now, let me see, " said Hurstwood, looking over Carrie's shoulder verydeferentially. " What have you?" He studied for a moment. " That'srather good, " he said. 

" You're lucky. Now, I'll show you how to trounce your husband. Youtake my advice. "

" Here, " said Drouet, " if you two are going to scheme together, Iwon't stand a ghost of a show. Hurstwood a regular sharp. "

" No, it's your wife. She brings me luck. Why shouldn't she win?"

Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at Drouet. The formertook the air of a mere friend. He was simply there to enjoy himself. Anything that Carrie did was pleasing to him, nothing more. 

"There, " he said, holding back one of his own good cards, and givingCarrie a chance to take a trick. " I count that clever playing for abeginner. "

The latter laughed gleefully as she saw the hand coming her way. It wasas if she were invincible when Hurstwood helped her. 

He did not look at her often. When he did, it was with a mild light inhis eye. Not a shade was there of anything save geniality and kindness. He took back the shifty, clever gleam, and replaced it with one ofinnocence. Carrie could not guess but there it was pleasure with him inthe immediate kind. She felt that he considered she was doing a greatdeal. 

" It's unfair to let such playing go without earning something, " hesaid after a time, slipping his finger into the little coin pocket ofhis coat. " Let's play for dimes. "

" All right, " said Drouet, fishing for bills. 

Hurstwood was quicker. His finger were full of new ten-cent pieces. "Here we are, " he said, supplying each one with a little stack. 

" Oh, this gambling, " smiled Carrie. " It's bad. "

" No, " said Drouet, " only fun. If you never play for more than that, you will of to Heaven. "

" Don't you moralize, " said Hurstwood to Carrie gently, " until you seewhat becomes of the money. "

Drouet smiled. 

" If your husband gets them, he'll tell you how bad it is. "

Drouet laughed loud. 

There was such an ingratiating tone about Hurstwood's voice, theinsinuation was so perceptible that even Carrie got the humor of it. 

" When do you leave?" said Hurstwood to Drouet. 

" On Wednesday, " he replied. 

" It's rather hard to have your husband addressing Carrie like that, isn't it?" said Hurstwood, addressing Carrie. 

" She's going along with me this time, " said Drouet. 

" You must both go with me to the theater before you go. "

" Certainly, " said Drouet. " Eh, Carrie?"

" I'd like it ever so much, " she replied. 

Hurstwood did his best to see that Carrie won the money. He rejoinedin her success, kept counting her winnings, and finally gathered andput them in her extended hand. They spread a little lunch, at which heserved the wine, and afterwards he used fine tact in going

" Now, " he said, addressing first Carrie and then. Drouet with hiseyes, " you must be ready at 7:30. I'll come and get you. "

They went with him to the door and there was his cab waiting, its redlamps gleaming cheerfully in the shadow. 

" Now, " he observed to Drouet, with a tone of good fellowship, " whenyou leave your wife alone, you must let me show her around a little. Itwill break up her loneliness. "

" sure, " said Drouet, quite pleased at the attention shown. 

" You're so kind, " observed Carrie. 

" Not at all, " said Hurstwood, " I would want you husband to do as muchfor me. "

 He smiled and went lightly away. Carrie was thoroughly impressed. Shehad never come in contact with such grace. As for Drouet, he wasequally pleased. 

" There's a nice man, " he remarked to Carrie, as the returned to theircozy chamber. " A good friend of mine, too. "

" He seems to be, " said Carrie. 

Chapter XITHE PERSUASION OF FASHION: FEELING GUARDS O'ER ITS OWN

 Carrie was an apt student of fortune's ways-of for Time'ssuperficialities. Seeing a thing, she would immediately set toinquiring how she would look, properly rated to it. Be it known thatthis is not fine feeling, it is Not wisdom. The greatest minds are notso afflicted; and On the contrary, the lowest order of mind is not sodisturbed. Fine clothes to her were a vast persuasion; they spoketenderly and Jesuitical for themselves. When she came within earshot oftheir pleading, desire in her bent a willing ear. The voice of the so-called inanimate! Who shall translate for us the language of thestones?

" My dear, " said the lace collar she secured from Partridge's, " I fityou beautifully; don't give me up. "

" Ah, such little feet, " said the leather of the soft new shoes; " howeffectively I cover them. What a pity they Should ever want my aid. "

Once these things were in hand, on her person. She might dream ofgiving them up; the method by which they came might intrude itself soforcibly that she would ache to be rid of the thought of it, but shewould not give them up. " Put on the old clothes-that torn pair ofshoes, " was called to her by her conscience in vain. She could possiblyhave conquered the fear of hunger and gone back; the though of hardwork and a narrow round of suffering would, under the last pressure ofconscience have yielded, but spoil her appearance? -be old-clothes andpoor-appearing?-never!

Drouet heightened her opinion on this and allied subjects in such amanner as to weaken her power of resisting their influence. It is soeasy 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 heradmiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under the circumstances, she did not need to carry herself as pretty women do. She picked thatknowledge up fast enough for herself. Drouet had a habit, characteristic of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed orpretty women on the street and remarking upon them. He had just enoughof the feminine love of dress to be a good judge-not of intellect, butof clothes. He saw how they set their little feet, how they carriedtheir chins, with what grace ands sinuosity they swung their bodies. Adainty, self-conscious swaying of the hips by a woman was to him asalluring as the glint of red wine to a toper. He would turn and followthe disappearing vision with his eyes. He would thrill as a child withthe unhindered passion that was in him. He loves the thing that womenlove in themselves, grace. At this their own shrine, he Knelt withthem, an ardent devotee. 

" Did you see that women who went by just now?" he said to Carrie onthe first day they took a walk together. " Fine stepper, wasn't she?"

Carrie looked, and observed the grace commended. 

" Yes, she is" she returned, cheerfully, a little suggestion ofpossible defect in herself awakening in her mind. If that was so fine, she must look at it more closely. Instinctively, she felt a desire toimitate it. Surely she could do that too. 

When one of her mind sees many things emphasized and reemphasized andadmired, she gathers the logic of it and applies accordingly. Drouetwas not shrewd enough to see that this was not tactful. He could notsee that it would be better to make her feel that she was competingwith herself, not others better than herself. He would not have done itwith an older, wiser woman, but in Carrie he saw only the novice. Lessclever than she, he was naturally unable to comprehend her sensibility. He went on educating and wounding her, a thing rather foolish in onewhose admiration for his pupil and victim was apt to grow. 

Carrie took the instructions affably. She saw what Drouet liked; invague way she saw where he was weak. It lessens a woman's opinion of aman when she learns that his admiration is so pointedly and generouslydistributed. She sees but one object of supreme compliment in thisworld, and that is herself. If a man is to succeed with many women, hewent he must be all in all to each. 

In her own apartments Carrie saw things that were lessons in the sameschool. 

In the same house with her live 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 commonin America today, who live respectably from hand to mouth. Her wife, quite attractive affected the feeling of youth, and objected to thatsort of home life which means the care of a house and the raising of afamily. Like Drouet and Carrie, they also occupied three rooms on thefloor above. Not long after she arrived Mrs. Hale established socialrelations with her, and together they went about. For a long time thiswas her only companionship, and the gossip of the manager's wife formedthe medium, through which she saw the world. Such trivialities, suchpraises of Wealth, such conventional expression of morals as siftedthrough this passive creature's mind, fell upon Carrie and for thewhile confused her. 

On the other hand, her own feelings were a corrective influence. Theirconstant drag to something better was not to be denied. By those thingswhich address the heart was she steadily recalled. In the apartmentsacross the hall were a young girl and her mother. They were fromEvansville, Indiana, the wife and daughter of a railroad treasurer. Thedaughter was her to study music, the mother to keep her company. 

Carrie did not make their acquaintance, but she saw the daughter comingin and going out. A few times she had seen her a the piano in theparlor, and not infrequently had heard her play. This young woman wasparticularly dressy for her station, and wore a jeweled ring or twowhich flashed upon her white fingers as she played. 

Now Carrie was affected by music. Her nervous composition responded tocertain strains, much as certain strings of a harp vibrate when acorresponding key of a piano is struck. She was delicately molded insentiment and answered with vague ruminations to certain wistfulchords. They awoke longings for those things which she did not have. They caused her cling closer to things she possessed. One shorts songthe young lady played in a most soulful and tender mood. Carrie heardit through the open door from the parlor below, In was at that hourbetween afternoon and night when, for the idle, the wanderer, thingsare apt to take on a wistful aspect. The mind wanders forth on farjourneys and returns with sheaves of withered and departed joys. Carriesat at her window looking out. Drouet had been away since ten in themorning. She had amused herself with a walk, a book by Bertha M. Claywhich Drouet had let there, though she did not wholly enjoy the latter, and by changing her dress for the evening. Now she sat looking outacross the park as wistful and depressed as the nature which cravesvariety and life can be under such circumstances. As she contemplatedher new state, the strain from the parlor below stole upward. Withinit her to the things which were best and saddest within the smalllimit of her experience. She became for the moment a repentant. 

While she was in this mood Drouet came in, bringing with him anentirely different atmosphere. It was dusk and Carrie had neglected tolight the lamp. The fire in the grate, too, had burned low. 

" Where are you, Cad?" he said, using a pet name he had given her. 

" Here, " she answered. 

There was something delicate and lonely in her voice, but he could nothear it. He had not the poetry in him that would seek a woman out undersuch circumstances and console her for the tragedy of life. Instead, hestruck a match and lighted the gas. 

" Hello, " he exclaimed, " you've been crying. "

her eyes were still wet with a few vague tears. 

" Pshaw, " he said, " you don't want to do that. "

He took her hand, feeling in his good-natured egotism that it wasprobably lack of his presence which had made her lonely. 

" Come on, now, " he went on; " it's all right. Let's waltz a little tothat music. "

He could not have introduced a more incongruous proposition. It madeclear to Carrie that he could not sympathize with her. She could nothave framed thoughts which would have expressed his defect or makeclear the difference between them, but she felt it. It was his firstgreat mistake. 

What Drouet said about the girl's grace, as she tripped Out eveningaccompanied by her mother, caused Carrie To perceive the nature andvalue of those little moodish Ways which women adopt when they wouldpresume to be Something. She looked in the mirror and pursed up herLips, accomplishing it with a little toss of the head, as the Had seenthe railroad treasurer's daughter do. She caught Up her skirts with aneasy swing, for had not, Drouet remarked that in her and severalothers, and Carrie was Naturally imitative. She began to get the hangof those Little things which the pretty women who has vanity invariablyadopts. In shorts, her knowledge of grace Doubled, and with herappearance changed. She became a girl of considerable taste. 

Drouet noticed this. He saw the new bow in her hair and the new way ofarraying her locks which she affected one morning. 

" You look fine that way, Cad, " he said. 

" Do I?" she replied, sweetly. It made her try for other effects thatselfsame day. 

She used her feet less heavily, a thing that was brought About by herattempting to imitate the treasurer's daughter's graceful carriage. Howmuch influence the presence Of that young women in the same house hadupon her it Would be difficult to say. But, because of all these thingsWhen Hurstwood called he had found a young women Who was much morethan the Carrie to whom Drouet had First spoken. The primary defectsof dress and manner Had passed. She was pretty, graceful, rich in thetimidity Born of uncertainty, and with a something childlike in herLarge eyes which captured the fancy of this starched and conventionalposer among men. It was the ancient attraction of the fresh for thestale. If there was a touch of appreciation left in him for the bloomand unsophistication which is the charm of youth, it rekindled now. Helooked into her pretty face and felt the subtle waves of young liferadiating therefrom. In that large clear eye he could see nothing thathis blasé nature could understand as guile. The little vanity, if hecould have perceived it there, would have touched him as a pleasantthing. 

" I wonder, " he said as he rode away in his cab, " how Drouet came towin her. " 	He gave her credit for feelings superior to Drouet at Thefirst glance. 

The cab plopped ailing along between the far-receding lines of gaslamps on either hand. He folded his gloved hands and saw only thelighted chamber and Carrie's face. He was pondering over the delightof youthful beauty. 

" I'll have a bouquet for her, " he though. " Drouet won't mind. "

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 merelyfloating those gossamer threads of thought which, like the spider's heHoped would lay hold somewhere. He did not know, he could not guess, what the result would be. 

A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, encountered one of hiswell-dressed lady acquaintances in Chicago on his return from a shorttrip to Omaha. He Had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surpriseCarrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation And soonmodified his original intention. 

" Let's go to dinner, " he said, little reckoning any chance meetingwhich might trouble his way. 

" Certainty, " said his companion. 

They visited one of the better restaurants for a social Chat. It wasfive in the afternoon when they met; it was Seven thirty before thelast bone was picked. 

Drouet was just finishing a little incident he was relating, and hisface was expanding into a smile, when Hurstwood's eye caught his own. The latter had come in with several friends, and, seeing Drouet andsome woman, not Carrie, drew his own conclusion. 

" Ah, the rascal, " he though, and then, with a touch of righteoussympathy, " that's pretty hard on the little girl. "

Drouet jumped from one easy though to another as he caught Hurstwood'seye. He felt but every little misgiving, until he saw that Hurstwoodwas cautiously pretending not to see. Then some of the latter'simpression forced itself upon him. He though of Carrie and their lastmeeting. By George, he would have to explain this to Hurstwood. Such achance half-hour with an old friend must not have anything moreattached to it really warranted. 

For the first time he was troubled. Here was a moral Complication ofwhich he could not possibly get the ends. Hurstwood would laugh at himfor being a fickle boy. He would laugh with Hurstwood. Carrie wouldnever Hear, his present companion at table would never know And yet hecould not help feeling that he was getting the was not guilty. He brokeup the dinner by becoming dull, and saw his companion on her car. Thenhe went home. 

" He hasn't talked to me about any of these later flames, " thoughHurstwood to himself. " He thinks he cares for the girl out there. "

He ought not to think I'm knocking around, since Have just introducedhim out there, " though Drouet. 

" I saw you, " Hurstwood said, genially, the next time. Drouet driftedin to his polished resort, from which he Could not stay away. Heraised his forefinger indicatively, as parents do to children. 

" An old acquaintance of mine that I ran into just as was coming upfrom the station, " explained Drouet. 

" She used to be quite a beauty. "

" Still attracts a little, eh?" returned the other, affecting to jest. 

" Oh, no, " said Drouet, " just couldn't escape her this time. "

" How long are you here?" asked Hurstwood. 

" Only a few days. "

" You must bring the girls down and take dinner with me, " he said. "I'm afraid you keep her cooped up out there. I'll get a box for JoeJefferson. "

" Not me, " answered the drummer. " Sure I'll come. "

This pleased Hurstwood immensely. He gave Drouet no credit for anyfeelings toward Carrie whatever. He Envied him, and now, as he lookedat the well-dressed salesman, whom he so much liked, the gleam of theRival glowed in his eye. He began to " size up" Drouet From thestandpoints of wit and fascination. He began to Look to see where hewas weak. There was no disputing that, whatever he might think of himas a good fellow, he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as alover. He could hoodwink him all right. Why, if he would just LetCarrie see one such little incident as that of Thursday, it wouldsettle the matter. He ran on it thought, almost exulting, the while helaughed and chatted, and Drouet felt nothing. He had no power ofanalyzing the glance and the atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood. Hestood and smiled and accepted the invitation while his friend examinedhim with the eye of a hawk. 

The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not Thinking ofeither. She was busy adjusting her thoughts And feelings to newerconditions, and was not in danger of suffering disturbing pangs fromeither quarter. 

One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before That glass. 

" Cad, " said he, catching her, " I believe you're getting vain. "

" Nothing of the kind, " she returned, smiling. 

" 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. "

" Oh, I've promised Mrs. Hale to go with her to the Exposition to-night, " she returned, apologetically. 

" You did, eh? He said, studying the situation abstractedly. " Iwouldn't care to go to that myself. "

" Well, I don't know, " answered Carrie, puzzling, but not offering tobreak her promise in his favor. 

Just then a knock came at their door and the maidservant handed aletter in. 

" He says there's an answer expected, " she explained. 

" It's from Hurstwood, " said Drouet, noting the superscription as hetore it open. 

" You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me to-night, " it ranit part. " It's my turn, as we agreed the other day. All other betsare off. " 	" Well, what do you say to this?" asked Drouet, innocently, while Carrie's mind bubbled with favorable replies. 

" You had better decided, Charlie, " she said, reservedly. 

" I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs, "said Drouet. 

" Oh, I can, " returned Carrie without thinking. 

Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. She hardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed toher most. 

" Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?" she asked, as she came outwith several articles of apparel pending. 

" Sure, " he returned, pleasantly. 

She was relieved to see that he felt nothing. She did Not credit herwillingness to go to any fascination Hurstwood Held for her. It seemedthat that combination of Hurstwood, Drouet, and herself was moreagreeable Than anything else that had been suggested. She arrayedHerself most carefully and they started off, extending Excusesupstairs. 

" I say. " Said Hurstwood as, they came up the theatre lobby, " we areexceeding charming this evening. " Carrie fluttered under his approvingglance. 

" Now, then, " he said, leading the way up the foyer into the theater. 

If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the personification ofthe old term spick and span. 

" Did you ever see Jefferson?" he questioned, as he leaned towardCarrie in the box. 

" I never did, " she returned. 

" He's delightful, delightful, " he went on giving the commonplacerendition of approval which such men know. He sent Drouet after aprogram, and then discoursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he hadheard of him. The former was pleased beyond expression, and was reallyhypnotized by the environment, the trappings of the box, the eleganceof her companion. Several times their eyes accidentally met, and thenthere poured into hers such a flood of feeling as she had never beforeexperienced. She could not for the moment explain it, for in the nextglance or the next move of the hand there was seeming indifference, mingled only with the kindest attention. 

Drouet shared in the conversation, but he was almost Dull incomparison. Hurstwood entertained them both, and now it was driveninto Carrie's mind that here was the superior man. She instinctivelyfelt that he was stronger and higher, and yet with a so simple. By theend of the third act she was sure that Drouet was only a kindly soul, but otherwise defective. He sank every moment in her estimation by thestrong comparison. 

" I have had such a nice time, " said Carrie, when it was all over andthey were coming out. 

" Yes, indeed, " added Drouet, who was not in the least aware that abattle had been fought and his defenses weakened. He was like theEmperor of China, who sat glorying in himself, unaware that hisfairest provinces were being wrested from him. 

" Well, you have saved me a dreary evening, " returned Hurstwood. "Good-night. "

He took Carrie's little hand, and a current of feeling Swept from oneto the other. 

" I'm so tried, " said Carrie, leaning back in the car when Drouet beganto talk. 

" Well, you rest a little while I smoke, " he said, rising and then hefoolishly went to the forward platform of the Car and left the game asit stood

Chapter XII

OF THE LAMPS OF THE MANSIONS--THE AMBASSADOR PLEA

 Mrs. Hurstwood was not aware of any of her husband's moral defections, though she might readily have suspected his tendencies, which she wellunderstood. She was a woman upon whose action under provocation youcould never count. Hurstwood, for one, had not the slightest idea ofwhat she would do under certain circumstances. He had never seen herthoroughly aroused. In fact, she was not a woman who would fly into apassion. She had too little faith in mankind not to know that theywere erring. She was too calculating to jeopardize any advantage shemight gain in the way of information by fruitless clamor. Her wrathwould never wreak itself in one fell blow. She would wait and brood, studying the details and adding to them until her power might becommensurate with her desire for revenge. At the same time, she wouldnot delay to inflict any injury, big or little, which would wound theobject of her revenge and still leave him uncertain as to the source ofthe evil. She was a cold, self-centered woman, with many a thought ofher own which never found expression, not even by so much as the glintof an eye. 

Hurstwood felt some of this in her nature, though he did not actuallyperceive it. He dwelt with her in peace and some satisfaction. He didnot fear her in the least--there was no cause for it. She still took afaint pride in him, which was augmented by her desire to have hersocial integrity maintained. She was secretly somewhat pleased by thefact that much of her husband's property was in her name, a precautionwhich Hurstwood had taken when his home interests were somewhat morealluring than at present. His wife had not the slightest reason tofeel that anything would ever go amiss with their household, and yetthe shadows which run before gave her a thought of the good of it nowand then. She was in a position to become refractory with considerableadvantage, and Hurstwood conducted himself circumspectly because hefelt that he could not be sure of anything once she becamedissatisfied. 

It so happened that on the night when Hurstwood, Carrie, and Drouetwere in the box at McVickar's, George, Jr. , was in the sixth row of theparquet with the daughter of H. B. Carmichael, the third partner of awholesale 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 himselfjust partially visible, when he bent forward, to those within the firstsix rows in question. It was his wont to sit this way in everytheatre--to make his personality as inconspicuous as possible where itwould be no advantage to him to have it otherwise. 

He never moved but what, if there was any danger of his conduct beingmisconstrued or ill-reported, he looked carefully about him and countedthe cost of every inch of conspicuity. 

The next morning at breakfast his son said:

"I saw you, Governor, last night. "

"Were you at McVickar's?" said Hurstwood, with the best grace in theworld. 

"Yes, " said young George. 

"Who with?"

"Miss Carmichael. "

Mrs. Hurstwood directed an inquiring glance at her husband, but couldnot judge from his appearance whether it was any more than a casuallook into the theatre which was referred to. 

"How was the play?" she inquired. 

"Very good, " returned Hurstwood, "only it's the same old thing, 'RipVan Winkle. '"

"Whom did you go with?" queried his wife, with assumed indifference. 

"Charlie Drouet and his wife. They are friends of Moy's, visitinghere. "

Owing to the peculiar nature of his position, such a disclosure as thiswould ordinarily create no difficulty. His wife took it for grantedthat his situation called for certain social movements in which shemight not be included. But of late he had pleaded office duty onseveral occasions when his wife asked for his company to any eveningentertainment. He had done so in regard to the very evening inquestion only the morning before. 

"I thought you were going to be busy, " she remarked, very carefully. 

"So I was, " he exclaimed. "I couldn't help the interruption, but Imade up for it afterward by working until two. "

This settled the discussion for the time being, but there was a residueof opinion which was not satisfactory. There was no time at which theclaims of his wife could have been more unsatisfactorily pushed. Foryears he had been steadily modifying his matrimonial devotion, andfound her company dull. Now that a new light shone upon the horizon, this older luminary paled in the west. He was satisfied to turn hisface away entirely, and any call to look back was irksome. 

She, on the contrary, was not at all inclined to accept anything lessthan a complete fulfillment of the letter of their relationship, thoughthe spirit might be wanting. 

"We are coming down town this afternoon, " she remarked, a few dayslater. "I want you to come over to Kinsley's and meet Mr. Phillips andhis wife. They're stopping at the Tremont, and we're going to showthem around a little. "

After the occurrence of Wednesday, he could not refuse, though thePhillips were about as uninteresting as vanity and ignorance could makethem. He agreed, but it was with short grace. He was angry when heleft the house. 

"I'll put a stop to this, " he thought. "I'm not going to be botheredfooling around with visitors when I have work to do. "

Not long after this Mrs. Hurstwood came with a similar proposition, only it was to a matinee this time. 

"My dear, " he returned, "I haven't time. I'm too busy. "

"You find time to go with other people, though, " she replied, withconsiderable irritation. 

"Nothing of the kind, " he answered. "I can't avoid business relations, and that's all there is to it. "

"Well, never mind, " she exclaimed. Her lips tightened. The feeling ofmutual antagonism was increased. 

On the other hand, his interest in Drouet's little shop-girl grew in analmost evenly balanced proportion. That young lady, under the stressof her situation and the tutelage of her new friend, changedeffectively. She had the aptitude of the struggler who seeksemancipation. 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 ofdesire. Mrs. Hale's extended harangues upon the subjects of wealth andposition taught her to distinguish between degrees of wealth. Mrs. Haleloved to drive in the afternoon in the sun when it was fine, and tosatisfy her soul with a sight of those mansions and lawns which shecould not afford. On the North Side had been erected a number ofelegant mansions along what is now known as the North Shore Drive. Thepresent lake wall of stone and granite was not then in place, but theroad had been well laid out, the intermediate spaces of lawn werelovely to look upon, and the houses were thoroughly new and imposing. When the winter season had passed and the first fine days of the earlyspring appeared, Mrs. Hale secured a buggy for an afternoon and invitedCarrie. They rode first through Lincoln Park and on far out towardsEvanston, turning back at four and arriving at the north end of theShore Drive at about five o'clock. At this time of year the days arestill comparatively short, and the shadows of the evening werebeginning to settle down upon the great city. Lamps were beginning toburn with that mellow radiance which seems almost watery andtranslucent to the eye. There was a softness in the air which speakswith an infinite delicacy of feeling to the flesh as well as to thesoul. Carrie felt that it was a lovely day. She was ripened by it inspirit for many suggestions. As they drove along the smooth pavementan occasional carriage passed. She saw one stop and the footmandismount, opening the door for a gentleman who seemed to be leisurelyreturning from some afternoon pleasure. Across the broad lawns, nowfirst freshening into green, she saw lamps faintly glowing upon richinteriors. 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 kinglyquarters now came back. She imagined that across these richly carvedentrance-ways, where the globed and crystalled lamps shone upon paneleddoors set with stained and designed panes of glass, was neither carenor unsatisfied desire. She was perfectly certain that here washappiness. If she could but stroll up yon broad walk, cross that richentrance-way, which to her was of the beauty of a jewel, and sweep ingrace and luxury to possession and command--oh! how quickly wouldsadness flee; how, in an instant, would the heartache end. She gazedand gazed, wondering, delighting, longing, and all the while the sirenvoice of the unrestful was whispering in her ear. 

"If we could have such a home as that, " said Mrs. Hale sadly, "howdelightful it would be. "

"And yet they do say, " said Carrie, "that no one is ever happy. "

She had heard so much of the canting philosophy of the grapeless fox. 

"I notice, " said Mrs. Hale, "that they all try mighty hard, though, totake their misery in a mansion. "

When she came to her own rooms, Carrie saw their comparativeinsignificance. She was not so dull but that she could perceive theywere but three small rooms in a moderately well-furnished boarding-house. She was not contrasting it now with what she had had, but whatshe had so recently seen. The glow of the palatial doors was still inher eye, the roll of cushioned carriages still in her ears. What, after all, was Drouet? What was she? At her window, she thought itover, rocking to and fro, and gazing out across the lamp-lit parktoward the lamp-lit houses on Warren and Ashland avenues. She was toowrought up to care to go down to eat, too pensive to do aught but rockand sing. Some old tunes crept to her lips, and, as she sang them, herheart sank. She longed and longed and longed. It was now for the oldcottage room in Columbia City, now the mansion upon the Shore Drive, now the fine dress of some lady, now the elegance of some scene. Shewas sad beyond measure, and yet uncertain, wishing, fancying. Finally, it seemed as if all her state was one of loneliness and forsakenness, and she could scarce refrain from trembling at the lip. She hummed andhummed as the moments went by, sitting in the shadow by the window, andwas therein as happy, though she did not perceive it, as she ever wouldbe. 

While Carrie was still in this frame of mind, the house-servant broughtup the intelligence that Mr. Hurstwood was in the parlor asking to seeMr. And Mrs. Drouet. 

"I guess he doesn't know that Charlie is out of town, " thought Carrie. 

She had seen comparatively little of the manager during the winter, buthad been kept constantly in mind of him by one thing and another, principally by the strong impression he had made. She was quitedisturbed for the moment as to her appearance, but soon satisfiedherself by the aid of the mirror, and went below. 

Hurstwood was in his best form, as usual. He hadn't heard that Drouetwas out of town. He was but slightly affected by the intelligence, anddevoted himself to the more general topics which would interest Carrie. It was surprising--the ease with which he conducted a conversation. Hewas like every man who has had the advantage of practice and knows hehas sympathy. He knew that Carrie listened to him pleasurably, and, without the least effort, he fell into a train of observation whichabsorbed her fancy. He drew up his chair and modulated his voice tosuch a degree that what he said seemed wholly confidential. Heconfined himself almost exclusively to his observation of men andpleasures. He had been here and there, he had seen this and that. Somehow he made Carrie wish to see similar things, and all the whilekept her aware of himself. She could not shut out the consciousness ofhis individuality and presence for a moment. He would raise his eyesslowly in smiling emphasis of something, and she was fixed by theirmagnetism. He would draw out, with the easiest grace, her approval. Once he touched her hand for emphasis and she only smiled. He seemedto radiate an atmosphere which suffused her being. He was never dullfor a minute, and seemed to make her clever. At least, she brightenedunder his influence until all her best side was exhibited. She feltthat she was more clever with him than with others. At least, heseemed to find so much in her to applaud. There was not the slightesttouch of patronage. Drouet was full of it. 

There had been something so personal, so subtle, in each meetingbetween them, both when Drouet was present and when he was absent, thatCarrie could not speak of it without feeling a sense of difficulty. She was no talker. She could never arrange her thoughts in fluentorder. It was always a matter of feeling with her, strong and deep. Each time there had been no sentence of importance which she couldrelate, and as for the glances and sensations, what woman would revealthem? Such things had never been between her and Drouet. As a matterof fact, they could never be. She had been dominated by distress andthe enthusiastic forces of relief which Drouet represented at anopportune moment when she yielded to him. Now she was persuaded bysecret current feelings which Drouet had never understood. Hurstwood'sglance was as effective as the spoken words of a lover, and more. Theycalled for no immediate decision, and could not be answered. 

People in general attach too much importance to words. They are underthe illusion that talking effects great results. As a matter of fact, words are, as a rule, the shallowest portion of all the argument. Theybut dimly represent the great surging feelings and desires which liebehind. When the distraction of the tongue is removed, the heartlistens. 

In this conversation she heard, instead of his words, the voices of thethings which he represented. How suave was the counsel of hisappearance! How feelingly did his superior state speak for itself!The growing desire he felt for her lay upon her spirit as a gentlehand. 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 sheherself would say--because it had no tangibility. She was beingpleaded with, persuaded, led into denying old rights and assuming newones, and yet there were no words to prove it. Such conversation aswas indulged in held the same relationship to the actual mentalenactments of the twain that the low music of the orchestra does to thedramatic incident which it is used to cover. 

"Have you ever seen the houses along the Lake Shore on the North Side?"asked Hurstwood. 

"Why, I was just over there this afternoon--Mrs. Hale and I. Aren'tthey beautiful?"

"They're very fine, " he answered. 

"Oh, me, " said Carrie, pensively. "I wish I could live in such aplace. "

"You're not happy, " said Hurstwood, slowly, after a slight pause. 

He had raised his eyes solemnly and was looking into her own. Heassumed that he had struck a deep chord. Now was a slight chance tosay a word in his own behalf. He leaned over quietly and continued hissteady gaze. He felt the critical character of the period. Sheendeavored to stir, but it was useless. The whole strength of a man'snature was working. He had good cause to urge him on. He looked andlooked, and the longer the situation lasted the more difficult itbecame. The little shop-girl was getting into deep water. She wasletting her few supports float away from her. 

"Oh, " she said at last, "you mustn't look at me like that. "

"I can't help it, " he answered. 

She relaxed a little and let the situation endure, giving him strength. 

"You are not satisfied with life, are you?"

"No, " she answered, weakly. 

He saw he was the master of the situation--he felt it. He reached overand touched her hand. 

"You mustn't, " she exclaimed, jumping up. 

"I didn't intend to, " he answered, easily. 

She did not run away, as she might have done. She did not terminatethe interview, but he drifted off into a pleasant field of thought withthe readiest grace. Not long after he rose to go, and she felt that hewas in power. "You mustn't feel bad, " he said, kindly; "things willstraighten out in the course of time. "

She made no answer, because she could think of nothing to say. 

"We are good friends, aren't we?" he said, extending his hand. 

"Yes, " she answered. 

"Not a word, then, until I see you again. "

He retained a hold on her hand. 

"I can't promise, " she said, doubtfully. 

"You must be more generous than that, " he said, in such a simple waythat she was touched. 

"Let's not talk about it any more, " she returned. 

"All right, " he said, brightening. 

He went down the steps and into his cab. Carrie closed the door andascended into her room. She undid her broad lace collar before themirror and unfastened her pretty alligator belt which she had recentlybought. 

"I'm getting terrible, " she said, honestly affected by a feeling oftrouble and shame. "I don't seem to do anything right. "

She unloosed her hair after a time, and let it hang in loose brownwaves. Her mind was going over the events of the evening. 

"I don't know, " she murmured at last, "what I can do. "

"Well, " said Hurstwood as he rode away, "she likes me all right; that Iknow. "

The aroused manager whistled merrily for a good four miles to t hisoffice an old melody that he had not recalled for fifteen years. 

Chapter XIIIHIS CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED--A BABEL OF TONGUES

 It was not quite two days after the scene between Carrie and Hurstwoodin the Ogden Place parlor before he again put in his appearance. Hehad been thinking almost uninterruptedly of her. Her leniency had, in away, inflamed his regard. He felt that he must succeed with her, andthat speedily. 

The reason for his interest, not to say fascination, was deeper thanmere desire. It was a flowering out of feelings which had beenwithering in dry and almost barren soil for many years. It is probablethat Carrie represented a better order of woman than had ever attractedhim before. He had had no love affair since that which culminated inhis marriage, and since then time and the world had taught him how rawand erroneous was his original judgment. Whenever he thought of it, hetold himself that, if he had it to do over again, he would never marrysuch a woman. At the same time, his experience with women in generalhad lessened his respect for the sex. He maintained a cynicalattitude, well grounded on numerous experiences. Such women as he hadknown were of nearly one type, selfish, ignorant, flashy. The wives ofhis friends were not inspiring to look upon. His own wife haddeveloped a cold, commonplace nature which to him was anything butpleasing. What he knew of that under-world where grovel the beat-menof society (and he knew a great deal) had hardened his nature. Helooked upon most women with suspicion--a single eye to the utility ofbeauty and dress. He followed them with a keen, suggestive glance. Atthe same time, he was not so dull but that a good woman commanded hisrespect. Personally, he did not attempt to analyze the marvel of asaintly 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 aBowery hall will humble himself before a Sister of Mercy, and pay tollto charity with a willing and reverent hand. But he would not thinkmuch upon the question of why he did so. 

A man in his situation who comes, after a long round of worthless orhardening experiences, upon a young, unsophisticated, innocent soul, isapt either to hold aloof, out of a sense of his own remoteness, or todraw near and become fascinated and elated by his discovery. It isonly by a roundabout process that such men ever do draw near such agirl. They have no method, no understanding of how to ingratiatethemselves in youthful favor, save when they find virtue in the toils. If, unfortunately, the fly has got caught in the net, the spider cancome forth and talk business upon its own terms. So when maidenhoodhas wandered into the moil of the city, when it is brought within thecircle of the "rounder" and the roue, even though it be at theoutermost rim, they can come forth and use their alluring arts. 

Hurstwood had gone, at Drouet's invitation, to meet a new baggage offine clothes and pretty features. He entered, expecting to indulge inan evening of lightsome frolic, and then lose track of the newcomerforever. Instead he found a woman whose youth and beauty attractedhim. In the mild light of Carrie's eye was nothing of the calculationof the mistress. In the diffident manner was nothing of the art of thecourtesan. He saw at once that a mistake had been made, that somedifficult conditions had pushed this troubled creature into hispresence, and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to therescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He wanted to winCarrie because he thought her fate mingled with his was better than ifit were united with Drouet's. He envied the drummer his conquest as hehad never envied any man in all the course of his experience. 

Carrie was certainly better than this man, as she was superior, mentally, to Drouet. She came fresh from the air of the village, thelight of the country still in her eye. Here was neither guile norrapacity. There were slight inherited traits of both in her, but theywere rudimentary. She was too full of wonder and desire to be greedy. She still looked about her upon the great maze of the city withoutunderstanding. Hurstwood felt the bloom and the youth. He picked heras he would the fresh fruit of a tree. He felt as fresh in herpresence as one who is taken out of the flash of summer to the firstcool breath of spring. 

Carrie, left alone since the scene in question, and having no one withwhom to counsel, had at first wandered from one strange mentalconclusion to another, until at last, tired out, she gave it up. Sheowed something to Drouet, she thought. It did not seem more thanyesterday that he had aided her when she was worried and distressed. She had the kindliest feelings for him in every way. She gave himcredit for his good looks, his generous feelings, and even, in fact, failed to recollect his egotism when he was absent; but she could notfeel any binding influence keeping her for him as against all others. In fact, such a thought had never had any grounding, even in Drouet'sdesires. 

The truth is, that this goodly drummer carried the doom of all enduringrelationships in his own lightsome manner and unstable fancy. He wentmerrily on, assured that he was alluring all, that affection followedtenderly in his wake, that things would endure unchangingly for hispleasure. When he missed some old face, or found some door finallyshut to him, it did not grieve him deeply. He was too young, toosuccessful. He would remain thus young in spirit until he was dead. 

As for Hurstwood, he was alive with thoughts and feelings concerningCarrie. He had no definite plans regarding her, but he was determinedto make her confess an affection for him. He thought he saw in herdrooping eye, her unstable glance, her wavering manner, the symptoms ofa budding passion. He wanted to stand near her and make her lay herhand in his--he wanted to find out what her next step would be--whatthe next sign of feeling for him would be. Such anxiety and enthusiasmhad not affected him for years. He was a youth again in feeling--acavalier in action. 

In his position opportunity for taking his evenings out was excellent. He was a most faithful worker in general, and a man who commanded theconfidence of his employers in so far as the distribution of his timewas concerned. He could take such hours off as he chose, for it waswell known that he fulfilled his managerial duties successfully, whatever time he might take. His grace, tact, and ornate appearancegave the place an air which was most essential, while at the same timehis long experience made him a most excellent judge of its stocknecessities. Bartenders and assistants might come and go, singly or ingroups, but, so long as he was present, the host of old-time customerswould barely notice the change. He gave the place the atmosphere towhich they were used. Consequently, he arranged his hours very much tosuit himself, taking now an afternoon, now an evening, but invariablyreturning between eleven and twelve to witness the last hour or two ofthe day's business and look after the closing details. 

"You see that things are safe and all the employees are out when you gohome, George, " Moy had once remarked to him, and he never once, in allthe period of his long service, neglected to do this. Neither of theowners had for years been in the resort after five in the afternoon, and yet their manager as faithfully fulfilled this request as if theyhad been there regularly to observe. 

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. 

"Evans, " he said, addressing the head barkeeper, "if any one calls, Iwill be back between four and five. "

He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, which carried himto Ogden Place in half an hour. 

Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on a light graywoolen dress with a jaunty double-breasted jacket. She had out her hatand gloves, and was fastening a white lace tie about her throat whenthe housemaid brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished tosee her. 

She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say thatshe would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing. 

Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glador sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence. Shewas slightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was morenervousness than either fear or favor. She did not try to conjecturewhat the drift of the conversation would be. She only felt that shemust be careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination forher. Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and wentbelow. 

The deep-feeling manager was himself a little strained in the nerves bythe thorough consciousness of his mission. He felt that he must make astrong play on this occasion, but now that the hour was come, and heheard Carrie's feet upon the stair, his nerve failed him. He sank alittle in determination, for he was not so sure, after all, what heropinion might be. 

When she entered the room, however, her appearance gave him courage. She looked simple and charming enough to strengthen the daring of anylover. Her apparent nervousness dispelled his own. 

"How are you?" he said, easily. "I could not resist the temptation tocome out this afternoon, it was so pleasant. "

"Yes, " said Carrie, halting before him, "I was just preparing to go fora walk myself. "

"Oh, were you?" he said. "Supposing, then, you get your hat and weboth go?"

They crossed the park and went west along Washington Boulevard, beautiful with its broad macadamized road, and large frame houses setback from the sidewalks. It was a street where many of the moreprosperous residents of the West Side lived, and Hurstwood could nothelp feeling nervous over the publicity of it. They had gone but a fewblocks when a livery stable sign in one of the side streets solved thedifficulty for him. He would take her to drive along the newBoulevard. 

The Boulevard at that time was little more than a country road. Thepart he intended showing her was much farther out on this same WestSide, where there was scarcely a house. It connected Douglas Park withWashington or South Park, and was nothing more than a neatly MADE road, running due south for some five miles over an open, grassy prairie, andthen due east over the same kind of prairie for the same distance. There was not a house to be encountered anywhere along the larger partof the route, and any conversation would be pleasantly free ofinterruption. 

At the stable he picked a gentle horse, and they were soon out of rangeof either public observation or hearing. 

"Can you drive?" he said, after a time. 

"I never tried, " said Carrie. 

He put the reins in her hand, and folded his arms. 

"You see there's nothing to it much, " he said, smilingly. 

"Not when you have a gentle horse, " said Carrie. 

"You can handle a horse as well as any one, after a little practice, "he added, encouragingly. 

He had been looking for some time for a break in the conversation whenhe could give it a serious turn. Once or twice he had held his peace, hoping that in silence her thoughts would take the color of his own, but she had lightly continued the subject. Presently, however, hissilence controlled the situation. The drift of his thoughts began totell. He gazed fixedly at nothing in particular, as if he werethinking of something which concerned her not at all. His thoughts, however, spoke for themselves. She was very much aware that a climaxwas pending. 

"Do you know, " he said, "I have spent the happiest evenings in yearssince I have known you?"

"Have you?" she said, with assumed airiness, but still excited by theconviction which the tone of his voice carried. 

"I was going to tell you the other evening, " he added, "but somehow theopportunity slipped away. "

Carrie was listening without attempting to reply. She could think ofnothing worth while to say. Despite all the ideas concerning rightwhich had troubled her vaguely since she had last seen him, she was nowinfluenced again strongly in his favor. 

"I came out here to-day, " he went on, solemnly, "to tell you just how Ifeel--to see if you wouldn't listen to me. "

Hurstwood was something of a romanticist after his kind. He wascapable of strong feelings--often poetic ones--and under a stress ofdesire, such as the present, he waxed eloquent. That is, his feelingsand his voice were colored with that seeming repression and pathoswhich is the essence of eloquence. 

"You know, " he said, putting his hand on her arm, and keeping a strangesilence while he formulated words, "that I love you?" Carrie did notstir at the words. She was bound up completely in the man'satmosphere. He would have churchlike silence in order to express hisfeelings, and she kept it. She did not move her eyes from the flat, open scene before her. Hurstwood waited for a few moments, and thenrepeated the words. 

"You must not say that, " she said, weakly. 

Her words were not convincing at all. They were the result of a feeblethought that something ought to be said. He paid no attention to themwhatever. 

"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 towaste a little affection on me. I am practically alone. There isnothing in my life that is pleasant or delightful. It's all work andworry with people who are nothing to me. "

As he said this, Hurstwood really imagined that his state was pitiful. He had the ability to get off at a distance and view himselfobjectively--of seeing what he wanted to see in the things which madeup his existence. Now, as he spoke, his voice trembled with thatpeculiar vibration which is the result of tensity. It went ringinghome to his companion's heart. 

"Why, I should think, " she said, turning upon him large eyes which werefull of sympathy and feeling, "that you would be very happy. You knowso much of the world. "

"That is it, " he said, his voice dropping to a soft minor, "I know toomuch of the world. "

It was an important thing to her to hear one so well-positioned andpowerful speaking in this manner. She could not help feeling thestrangeness 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, andthe city, with all its mystery, taken its place? Here was this greatestmystery, the man of money and affairs sitting beside her, appealing toher. Behold, he had ease and comfort, his strength was great, hisposition high, his clothing rich, and yet he was appealing to her. Shecould formulate no thought which would be just and right. She troubledherself no more upon the matter. She only basked in the warmth of hisfeeling, which was as a grateful blaze to one who is cold. Hurstwoodglowed with his own intensity, and the heat of his passion was alreadymelting the wax of his companion's scruples. 

"You think, " he said, "I am happy; that I ought not to complain? If youwere 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 showand indifference, if there was not one person in all those you knew towhom you could appeal for sympathy or talk to with pleasure, perhapsyou would be unhappy too. 

He was striking a chord now which found sympathetic response in her ownsituation. She knew what it was to meet with people who wereindifferent, to walk alone amid so many who cared absolutely nothingabout you. Had not she? Was not she at this very moment quite alone?Who was there among all whom she knew to whom she could appeal forsympathy? Not one. She was left to herself to brood and wonder. 

"I could be content, " went on Hurstwood, "if I had you to love me. IfI had you to go to; you for a companion. As it is, I simply move aboutfrom place to place without any satisfaction. Time hangs heavily on myhands. Before you came I did nothing but idle and drift into anythingthat offered itself. Since you came--well, I've had you to thinkabout. "

The old illusion that here was some one who needed her aid began togrow in Carrie's mind. She truly pitied this sad, lonely figure. Tothink that all his fine state should be so barren for want of her; thathe needed to make such an appeal when she herself was lonely andwithout anchor. Surely, this was too bad. 

"I am not very bad, " he said, apologetically, as if he owed it to herto explain on this score. "You think, probably, that I roam around, and get into all sorts of evil? I have been rather reckless, but Icould easily come out of that. I need you to draw me back, if my lifeever amounts to anything. "

Carrie looked at him with the tenderness which virtue ever feels in itshope of reclaiming vice. How could such a man need reclaiming? Hiserrors, what were they, that she could correct? Small they must be, where all was so fine. At worst, they were gilded affairs, and withwhat leniency are gilded errors viewed. He put himself in such a lonelylight that she was deeply moved. 

"Is it that way?" she mused. 

He slipped his arm about her waist, and she could not find the heart todraw away. With his free hand he seized upon her fingers. A breath ofsoft spring wind went bounding over the road, rolling some brown twigsof the previous autumn before it. The horse paced leisurely on, unguided. 

"Tell me, " he said, softly, "that you love me. "

Her eyes fell consciously. 

"Own to it, dear, " he said, feelingly; "you do, don't you?"

She made no answer, but he felt his victory. 

"Tell me, " he said, richly, drawing her so close that their lips werenear together. He pressed her hand warmly, and then released it totouch her cheek. 

"You do?" he said, pressing his lips to her own. 

For answer, her lips replied. 

"Now, " he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, "you're my own girl, aren't you?"

By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon his shoulder. 

Chapter XIVWITH EYES AND NOT SEEING--ONE INFLUENCE WANES

 Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, physically andmentally. She was deeply rejoicing in her affection for Hurstwood andhis love, and looked forward with fine fancy to their next meetingSunday night. They had agreed, without any feeling of enforcedsecrecy, that she should come down town and meet him, though, afterall, the need of it was the cause. 

Mrs. Hale, from her upper window, saw her come in. 

"Um, " she thought to herself, "she goes riding with another man whenher husband is out of the city. He had better keep an eye on her. "

The truth is that Mrs. Hale was not the only one who had a thought onthis score. The housemaid who had welcomed Hurstwood had her opinionalso. She had no particular regard for Carrie, whom she took to becold and disagreeable. At the same time, she had a fancy for the merryand 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 hadfor all members of the sex. Hurstwood was more reserved and criticalin his manner. He did not appeal to this bodiced functionary in thesame pleasant way. She wondered that he came so frequently, that Mrs. Drouet should go out with him this afternoon when Mr. Drouet wasabsent. She gave vent to her opinions in the kitchen where the cookwas. As a result, a hum of gossip was set going which moved about thehouse in that secret manner common to gossip. 

Carrie, now that she had yielded sufficiently to Hurstwood to confessher affection, no longer troubled about her attitude towards him. Temporarily she gave little thought to Drouet, thinking only of thedignity 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 theafternoon. It was the first time her sympathies had ever beenthoroughly aroused, and they threw a new light on her character. Shehad some power of initiative, latent before, which now began to exertitself. She looked more practically upon her state and began to seeglimmerings of a way out. Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction ofhonor. Her feelings were exceedingly creditable, in that theyconstructed out of these recent developments something which conqueredfreedom from dishonor. She had no idea what Hurstwood's next wordwould be. She only took his affection to be a fine thing, and appendedbetter, more generous results accordingly. 

As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure withoutresponsibility. He did not feel that he was doing anything tocomplicate his life. His position was secure, his home-life, if notsatisfactory, was at least undisturbed, his personal liberty ratheruntrammelled. Carrie's love represented only so much added pleasure. He would enjoy this new gift over and above his ordinary allowance ofpleasure. He would be happy with her and his own affairs would go onas they had, undisturbed. 

On Sunday evening Carrie dined with him at a place he had selected inEast Adams Street, and thereafter they took a cab to what was then apleasant evening resort out on Cottage Grove Avenue near 39th Street. In the process of his declaration he soon realized that Carrie took hislove upon a higher basis than he had anticipated. She kept him at adistance in a rather earnest way, and submitted only to those tendertokens of affection which better become the inexperienced lover. Hurstwood saw that she was not to be possessed for the asking, anddeferred pressing his suit too warmly. 

Since he feigned to believe in her married state he found that he hadto carry out the part. His triumph, he saw, was still at a littledistance. How far he could not guess. 

They were returning to Ogden Place in the cab, when he asked:

"When will I see you again?"

"I don't know, " she answered, wondering herself. 

"Why not come down to The Fair, " he suggested, "next Tuesday?"

She shook her head. 

"Not so soon, " she answered. 

"I'll tell you what I'll do, " he added. "I'll write you, care of thisWest Side Post-office. Could you call next Tuesday?"

Carrie assented. 

The cab stopped one door out of the way according to his call. 

"Good-night, " he whispered, as the cab rolled away. 

Unfortunately for the smooth progression of this affair, Drouetreturned. Hurstwood was sitting in his imposing little office the nextafternoon when he saw Drouet enter. 

"Why, hello, Charles, " he called affably; "back again?"

"Yes, " smiled Drouet, approaching and looking in at the door. 

Hurstwood arose. 

"Well, " he said, looking the drummer over, "rosy as ever, eh?"

They began talking of the people they knew and things that hadhappened. 

"Been home yet?" finally asked Hurstwood. 

"No, I am going, though, " said Drouet. 

"I remembered the little girl out there, " said Hurstwood, "and calledonce. Thought you wouldn't want her left quite alone. "

"Right you are, " agreed Drouet. "How is she?"

"Very well, " said Hurstwood. "Rather anxious about you though. You'dbetter go out now and cheer her up. "

"I will, " said Drouet, smilingly. 

"Like to have you both come down and go to the show with me Wednesday, "concluded Hurstwood at parting. 

"Thanks, old man, " said his friend, "I'll see what the girl says andlet you know. "

They separated in the most cordial manner. 

"There's a nice fellow, " Drouet thought to himself as he turned thecorner towards Madison. 

"Drouet is a good fellow, " Hurstwood thought to himself as he went backinto his office, "but he's no man for Carrie. "

The thought of the latter turned his mind into a most pleasant vein, and he wandered how he would get ahead of the drummer. 

When Drouet entered Carrie's presence, he caught her in his arms asusual, but she responded to his kiss with a tremor of opposition. 

"Well, " he said, "I had a great trip. "

"Did you? How did you come out with that La Crosse man you were tellingme about?"

"Oh, fine; sold him a complete line. There was another fellow there, representing Burnstein, a regular hook-nosed sheeny, but he wasn't init. I made him look like nothing at all. "

As he undid his collar and unfastened his studs, preparatory to washinghis face and changing his clothes, he dilated upon his trip. Carriecould not help listening with amusement to his animated descriptions. 

"I tell you, " he said, "I surprised the people at the office. I've soldmore goods this last quarter than any other man of our house on theroad. I sold three thousand dollars' worth in La Crosse. "

He plunged his face in a basin of water, and puffed and blew as herubbed his neck and ears with his hands, while Carrie gazed upon himwith mingled thoughts of recollection and present judgment. He wasstill wiping his face, when he continued:

"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. "

"I hope you do, " said Carrie. 

"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 whilehe took his place before the mirror and began brushing his hair. 

"I don't believe you ever intend to marry me, Charlie, " Carrie saidruefully. The recent protestations of Hurstwood had given her courageto say this. 

"Oh, yes I do--course I do--what put that into your head?"

He had stopped his trifling before the mirror now and crossed over toher. For the first time Carrie felt as if she must move away from him. 

"But you've been saying that so long, " she said, looking with herpretty face upturned into his. 

"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 allright, and I'll do it. Now, don't you worry, girlie. "

He patted her reassuringly upon the shoulder, but Carrie felt howreally futile had been her hopes. She could clearly see that thiseasy-going soul intended no move in her behalf. He was simply lettingthings drift because he preferred the free round of his present stateto any legal trammelings. 

In contrast, Hurstwood appeared strong and sincere. He had no easymanner of putting her off. He sympathized with her and showed her whather true value was. He needed her, while Drouet did not care. 

"Oh, no, " she said remorsefully, her tone reflecting some of her ownsuccess and more of her helplessness, "you never will. "

"Well, you wait a little while and see, " he concluded. "I'll marry youall right. "

Carrie looked at him and felt justified. She was looking for somethingwhich would calm her conscience, and here it was, a light, airydisregard of her claims upon his justice. He had faithfully promisedto marry her, and this was the way he fulfilled his promise. 

"Say, " he said, after he had, as he thought, pleasantly disposed of themarriage question, "I saw Hurstwood to-day, and he wants us to go tothe theatre with him. "

Carrie started at the name, but recovered quickly enough to avoidnotice. 

"When?" she asked, with assumed indifference. 

"Wednesday. We'll go, won't we?"

"If you think so, " she answered, her manner being so enforcedlyreserved as to almost excite suspicion. Drouet noticed something buthe thought it was due to her feelings concerning their talk aboutmarriage. "He called once, he said. "

"Yes, " said Carrie, "he was out here Sunday evening. "

"Was he?" said Drouet. "I thought from what he said that he had calleda week or so ago. "

"So he did, " answered Carrie, who was wholly unaware of whatconversation her lovers might have held. She was all at sea mentally, and fearful of some entanglement which might ensue from what she wouldanswer. 

"Oh, then he called twice?" said Drouet, the first shade ofmisunderstanding showing in his face. 

"Yes, " said Carrie innocently, feeling now that Hurstwood must havementioned but one call. 

Drouet imagined that he must have misunderstood his friend. He did notattach particular importance to the information, after all. 

"What did he have to say?" he queried, with slightly increasedcuriosity. 

"He said he came because he thought I might be lonely. You hadn't beenin there so long he wondered what had become of you. "

"George is a fine fellow, " said Drouet, rather gratified by hisconception of the manager's interest. "Come on and we'll go out todinner. "

When Hurstwood saw that Drouet was back he wrote at once to Carrie, saying:

"I told him I called on you, dearest, when he was away. I did not sayhow often, but he probably thought once. Let me know of anything youmay 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 Jacksonand Throop Streets Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock. I want to speakwith you before we meet at the theatre. "

Carrie received this Tuesday morning when she called at the West Sidebranch of the post-office, and answered at once. 

"I said you called twice, " she wrote. "He didn't seem to mind. I willtry and be at Throop Street if nothing interferes. I seem to begetting very bad. It's wrong to act as I do, I know. "

Hurstwood, when he met her as agreed, reassured her on this score. 

"You mustn't worry, sweetheart, " he said. "Just as soon as he goes onthe road again we will arrange something. We'll fix it so that youwon't have to deceive any one. "

Carrie imagined that he would marry her at once, though he had notdirectly said so, and her spirits rose. She proposed to make the bestof the situation until Drouet left again. 

"Don't show any more interest in me than you ever have, " Hurstwoodcounseled concerning the evening at the theatre. 

"You mustn't look at me steadily then, " she answered, mindful of thepower of his eyes. 

"I won't, " he said, squeezing her hand at parting and giving the glanceshe had just cautioned against. 

"There, " she said playfully, pointing a finger at him. 

"The show hasn't begun yet, " he returned. 

He watched her walk from him with tender solicitation. Such youth andprettiness reacted upon him more subtly than wine. 

At the theatre things passed as they had in Hurstwood's favor. If hehad been pleasing to Carrie before, how much more so was he now. Hisgrace was more permeating because it found a readier medium. Carriewatched his every movement with pleasure. She almost forgot poorDrouet, who babbled on as if he were the host. 

Hurstwood was too clever to give the slightest indication of a change. He paid, if anything, more attention to his old friend than usual, andyet in no way held him up to that subtle ridicule which a lover infavor may so secretly practice before the mistress of his heart. Ifanything, he felt the injustice of the game as it stood, and was notcheap enough to add to it the slightest mental taunt. 

Only the play produced an ironical situation, and this was due toDrouet alone. 

The scene was one in "The Covenant, " in which the wife listened to theseductive voice of a lover in the absence of her husband. 

"Served him right, " said Drouet afterward, even in view of her keenexpiation of her error. "I haven't any pity for a man who would besuch a chump as that. "

"Well, you never can tell, " returned Hurstwood gently. "He probablythought he was right. "

"Well, a man ought to be more attentive than that to his wife if hewants to keep her. "

They had come out of the lobby and made their way through the showycrush about the entrance way. 

"Say, mister, " said a voice at Hurstwood's side, "would you mind givingme the price of a bed?"

Hurstwood was interestedly remarking to Carrie. 

"Honest to God, mister, I'm without a place to sleep. "

The plea was that of a gaunt-faced man of about thirty, who looked thepicture 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. 

Chapter XVTHE IRK OF THE OLD TIES--THE MAGIC OF YOUTH

 The complete ignoring by Hurstwood of his own home came with thegrowth of his affection for Carrie. His actions, in all that relatedto his family, were of the most perfunctory kind. He sat at breakfastwith his wife and children, absorbed in his own fancies, which reachedfar without the realm of their interests. He read his paper, which washeightened in interest by the shallowness of the themes discussed byhis son and daughter. Between himself and his wife ran a river ofindifference. 

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 inthe short days, the street lamps had a merry twinkle. He began toexperience the almost forgotten feeling which hastens the lover's feet. When he looked at his fine clothes, he saw them with her eyes--and hereyes were young. 

When in the flush of such feelings he heard his wife's voice, when theinsistent demands of matrimony recalled him from dreams to a stalepractice, how it grated. He then knew that this was a chain whichbound his feet. 

"George, " said Mrs. Hurstwood, in that tone of voice which had longsince come to be associated in his mind with demands, "we want you toget us a season ticket to the races. "

"Do you want to go to all of them?" he said with a rising inflection. 

"Yes, " she answered. 

The races in question were soon to open at Washington Park, on theSouth Side, and were considered quite society affairs among those whodid not affect religious rectitude and conservatism. Mrs. Hurstwood hadnever asked for a whole season ticket before, but this year certainconsiderations decided her to get a box. For one thing, one of herneighbors, a certain Mr. And Mrs. Ramsey, who were possessors of money, made out of the coal business, had done so. In the next place, herfavorite physician, Dr. Beale, a gentleman inclined to horses andbetting, had talked with her concerning his intention to enter a two-year old in the Derby. In the third place, she wished to exhibitJessica, who was gaining in maturity and beauty, and whom she hoped tomarry to a man of means. Her own desire to be about in such things andparade among her acquaintances and common throng was as much anincentive as anything. 

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 "TheCovenant, " which had brought him home to make some alterations in hisdress. 

"You're sure separate tickets wouldn't do as well?" he asked, hesitating to say anything more rugged. 

"No, " she replied impatiently. 

"Well, " he said, taking offence at her manner, "you needn't get madabout it. I'm just asking you. "

"I'm not mad, " she snapped. "I'm merely asking you for a seasonticket. "

"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 willgive it to me. "

He had been thinking all the time of his "pull" with the racetrackmagnates. 

"We can buy it then, " she exclaimed sharply. 

"You talk easy, " he said. "A season family ticket costs one hundredand fifty dollars. "

"I'll not argue with you, " she replied with determination. "I want theticket and that's all there is to it. "

She had risen, and now walked angrily out of the room. 

"Well, you get it then, " he said grimly, though in a modified tone ofvoice. 

As usual, the table was one short that evening. 

The next morning he had cooled down considerably, and later the ticketwas duly secured, though it did not heal matters. He did not mindgiving his family a fair share of all that he earned, but he did notlike to be forced to provide against his will. 

"Did you know, mother, " said Jessica another day, "the Spencers aregetting ready to go away?"

"No. Where, I wonder?"

"Europe, " said Jessica. "I met Georgine yesterday and she told me. She just put on more airs about it. "

"Did she say when?"

"Monday, I think. They'll get a notice in the papers again--theyalways do. "

"Never mind, " said Mrs. Hurstwood consolingly, "we'll go one of thesedays. "

Hurstwood moved his eyes over the paper slowly, but said nothing. 

"'We sail for Liverpool from New York, '" Jessica exclaimed, mocking heracquaintance. "'Expect to spend most of the "summah" in France, '--vainthing. As If it was anything to go to Europe. "

"It must be if you envy her so much, " put in Hurstwood. 

It grated upon him to see the feeling his daughter displayed. 

"Don't worry over them, my dear, " said Mrs. Hurstwood. 

"Did George get off?" asked Jessica of her mother another day, thusrevealing something that Hurstwood had heard nothing about. 

"Where has he gone?" he asked, looking up. He had never before beenkept in ignorance concerning departures. 

"He was going to Wheaton, " said Jessica, not noticing the slight putupon her father. 

"What's out there?" he asked, secretly irritated and chagrined to thinkthat he should be made to pump for information in this manner. 

"A tennis match, " said Jessica. 

"He didn't say anything to me, " Hurstwood concluded, finding itdifficult to refrain from a bitter tone. 

"I guess he must have forgotten, " exclaimed his wife blandly. In thepast he had always commanded a certain amount of respect, which was acompound of appreciation and awe. The familiarity which in part stillexisted between himself and his daughter he had courted. As it was, itdid not go beyond the light assumption of words. The TONE was alwaysmodest. Whatever had been, however, had lacked affection, and now hesaw that he was losing track of their doings. His knowledge was nolonger intimate. He sometimes saw them at table, and sometimes didnot. He heard of their doings occasionally, more often not. Some dayshe 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 onof which he no longer heard. Jessica was beginning to feel that heraffairs were her own. George, Jr. , flourished about as if he were aman entirely and must needs have private matters. All this Hurstwoodcould see, and it left a trace of feeling, for he was used to beingconsidered--in his official position, at least--and felt that hisimportance should not begin to wane here. To darken it all, he saw thesame indifference and independence growing in his wife, while he lookedon and paid the bills. 

He consoled himself with the thought, however, that, after all, he wasnot without affection. Things might go as they would at his house, buthe had Carrie outside of it. With his mind's eye he looked into hercomfortable room in Ogden Place, where he had spent several suchdelightful evenings, and thought how charming it would be when Drouetwas disposed of entirely and she was waiting evenings in cozy littlequarters for him. That no cause would come up whereby Drouet would beled 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. 

The day after their theatre visit he began writing her regularly-aletter every morning, and begging her to do as much for him. He was notliterary by any means, but experience of the world and his growingaffection gave him somewhat of a style. This he exercised at hisoffice desk with perfect deliberation. He purchased a box ofdelicately colored and scented writing paper in monogram, which he keptlocked in one of the drawers. His friends now wondered at the clericand very official-looking nature of his position. The five bartendersviewed with respect the duties which could call a man to do so muchdesk-work and penmanship. 

Hurstwood surprised himself with his fluency. By the natural law whichgoverns all effort, what he wrote reacted upon him. He began to feelthose subtleties which he could find words to express. With everyexpression came increased conception. Those inmost breathings whichthere found words took hold upon him. He thought Carrie worthy of allthe affection he could there express. 

Carrie was indeed worth loving if ever youth and grace are to commandthat token of acknowledgment from life in their bloom. Experience hadnot yet taken away that freshness of the spirit which is the charm ofthe body. Her soft eyes contained in their liquid luster no suggestionof the knowledge of disappointment. She had been troubled in a way bydoubt and longing, but these had made no deeper impression than couldbe traced in a certain open wistfulness of glance and speech. Themouth had the expression at times, in talking and in repose, of one whomight be upon the verge of tears. It was not that grief was thus everpresent. The pronunciation of certain syllables gave to her lips thispeculiarity of formation--a formation as suggestive and moving aspathos itself. 

There was nothing bold in her manner. Life had not taught herdomination--superciliousness of grace, which is the lordly power ofsome women. Her longing for consideration was not sufficientlypowerful 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 alittle less than timid. She wanted pleasure, she wanted position, andyet she was confused as to what these things might be. Every hour thekaleidoscope of human affairs threw a new luster upon something, andtherewith it became for her the desired--the all. Another shift of thebox, and some other had become the beautiful, the perfect. 

On her spiritual side, also, she was rich in feeling, as such a naturewell might be. Sorrow in her was aroused by many a spectacle--anuncritical upwelling of grief for the weak and the helpless. She wasconstantly pained by the sight of the white-faced, ragged men whoslopped desperately by her in a sort of wretched mental stupor. Thepoorly clad girls who went blowing by her window evenings, hurryinghome from some of the shops of the West Side, she pitied from thedepths of her heart. She would stand and bite her lips as they passed, shaking her little head and wondering. They had so little, shethought. It was so sad to be ragged and poor. The hang of fadedclothes pained her eyes. 

"And they have to work so hard!" was her only comment. 

On the street sometimes she would see men working--Irishmen with picks, coal-heavers with great loads to shovel, Americans busy about some workwhich 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 thanwhen she was part of it. She saw it through a mist of fancy--a pale, somber half-light, which was the essence of poetic feeling. Her oldfather, in his flour dusted miller's suit, sometimes returned to her inmemory, revived by a face in a window. A shoemaker pegging at hislast, a blast man seen through a narrow window in some basement whereiron 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 tothe details of the mill. She felt, though she seldom expressed them, sad thoughts upon this score. Her sympathies were ever with thatunder-world of toil from which she had so recently sprung, and whichshe best understood. 

Though Hurstwood did not know it, he was dealing with one whosefeelings were as tender and as delicate as this. He did not know, butit was this in her, after all, which attracted him. He never attemptedto analyze the nature of his affection. It was sufficient that therewas tenderness in her eye, weakness in her manner, good nature and hopein her thoughts. He drew near this lily, which had sucked its waxenbeauty and perfume from below a depth of waters which he had neverpenetrated, and out of ooze and mould which he could not understand. He drew near because it was waxen and fresh. It lightened his feelingsfor him. It made the morning worth while. 

In a material way, she was considerably improved. Her awkwardness hadall but passed, leaving, if anything, a quaint residue which was aspleasing as perfect grace. Her little shoes now fitted her smartly andhad high heels. She had learned much about laces and those littleneckpieces which add so much to a woman's appearance. Her form hadfilled out until it was admirably plump and well-rounded. 

Hurstwood wrote her one morning, asking her to meet him in JeffersonPark, Monroe Street. He did not consider it policy to call any more, even when Drouet was at home. 

The next afternoon he was in the pretty little park by one, and hadfound a rustic bench beneath the green leaves of a lilac bush whichbordered one of the paths. It was at that season of the year when thefullness of spring had not yet worn quite away. At a little pond nearby some cleanly dressed children were sailing white canvas boats. Inthe shade of a green pagoda a bebuttoned officer of the law wasresting, his arms folded, his club at rest in his belt. An oldgardener was upon the lawn, with a pair of pruning shears, lookingafter some bushes. High overhead was the clean blue sky of the newsummer, and in the thickness of the shiny green leaves of the treeshopped and twittered the busy sparrows. 

Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling much of thesame old annoyance. At his store he had idled, there being no need towrite. He had come away to this place with the lightness of heartwhich characterizes those who put weariness behind. Now, in the shadeof this cool, green bush, he looked about him with the fancy of thelover. He heard the carts go lumbering by upon the neighboringstreets, but they were far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The humof the surrounding city was faint, the clang of an occasional bell wasas music. He looked and dreamed a new dream of pleasure whichconcerned his present fixed condition not at all. He got back in fancyto the old Hurstwood, who was neither married nor fixed in a solidposition for life. He remembered the light spirit in which he oncelooked after the girls--how he had danced, escorted them home, hungover their gates. He almost wished he was back there again--here inthis pleasant scene he felt as if he were wholly free. 

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 ofpretty 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 shoespeeped occasionally from beneath her skirt. She carried her gloves inher hand. 

Hurstwood looked up at her with delight. 

"You came, dearest, " he said eagerly, standing to meet her and takingher hand. 

"Of course, " she said, smiling; "did you think I wouldn't?"

"I didn't know, " he replied. 

He looked at her forehead, which was moist from her brisk walk. Then hetook out one of his own soft, scented silk handkerchiefs and touchedher face here and there. 

"Now, " he said affectionately, "you're all right. "

They were happy in being near one another--in looking into each other'seyes. Finally, when the long flush of delight had sub sided, he said:

"When is Charlie going away again?"

"I don't know, " she answered. "He says he has some things to do forthe house here now. "

Hurstwood grew serious, and he lapsed into quiet thought. He looked upafter a time to say:

"Come away and leave him. "

He turned his eyes to the boys with the boats, as if the request wereof little importance. 

"Where would we go?" she asked in much the same manner, rolling hergloves, and looking into a neighboring tree. 

"Where do you want to go?" he enquired. 

There was something in the tone in which he said this which made herfeel as if she must record her feelings against any local habitation. 

"We can't stay in Chicago, " she replied. 

He had no thought that this was in her mind--that any removal would besuggested. 

"Why not?" he asked softly. 

"Oh, because, " she said, "I wouldn't want to. "

He listened to this with but dull perception of what it meant. It hadno serious ring to it. The question was not up for immediate decision. 

"I would have to give up my position, " he said. 

The tone he used made it seem as if the matter deserved only slightconsideration. Carrie thought a little, the while enjoying the prettyscene. 

"I wouldn't like to live in Chicago and him here, " she said, thinkingof Drouet. 

"It's a big town, dearest, " Hurstwood answered. "It would be as goodas moving to another part of the country to move to the South Side. "

He had fixed upon that region as an objective point. 

"Anyhow, " said Carrie, "I shouldn't want to get married as long as heis here. I wouldn't want to run away. "

The suggestion of marriage struck Hurstwood forcibly. He saw clearlythat this was her idea--he felt that it was not to be gotten overeasily. Bigamy lightened the horizon of his shadowy thoughts for amoment. He wondered for the life of him how it would all come out. Hecould not see that he was making any progress save in her regard. Whenhe looked at her now, he thought her beautiful. What a thing it was tohave her love him, even if it be entangling! She increased in value inhis eyes because of her objection. She was something to struggle for, and that was everything. How different from the women who yieldedwillingly! He swept the thought of them from his mind. 

"And you don't know when he'll go away?" asked Hurstwood, quietly. 

She shook her head. 

He sighed. 

"You're a determined little miss, aren't you?" he said, after a fewmoments, looking up into her eyes. 

She felt a wave of feeling sweep over her at this. It was pride atwhat seemed his admiration--affection for the man who could feel thisconcerning her. 

"No, " she said coyly, "but what can I do?"

Again he folded his hands and looked away over the lawn into thestreet. 

"I wish, " he said pathetically, "you would come to me. I don't like tobe away from you this way. What good is there in waiting? You're notany happier, are you?"

"Happier!" she exclaimed softly, "you know better than that. "

"Here we are then, " he went on in the same tone, "wasting our days. Ifyou are not happy, do you think I am? I sit and write to you thebiggest part of the time. I'll tell you what, Carrie, " he exclaimed, throwing sudden force of expression into his voice and fixing her withhis 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 asort of at-an-end, helpless expression, "what shall I do?"

This shifting of the burden to her appealed to Carrie. The semblanceof the load without the weight touched the woman's heart. 

"Can't you wait a little while yet?" she said tenderly. "I'll try andfind out when he's going. "

"What good will it do?" he asked, holding the same strain of feeling. 

"Well, perhaps we can arrange to go somewhere. "

She really did not see anything clearer than before, but she wasgetting into that frame of mind where, out of sympathy, a woman yields. 

Hurstwood did not understand. He was wondering how she was to bepersuaded--what appeal would move her to forsake Drouet. He began towonder how far her affection for him would carry her. He was thinkingof some question which would make her tell. 

Finally he hit upon one of those problematical propositions which oftendisguise our own desires while leading us to an understanding of thedifficulties 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 seriousthought. 

"Carrie, " he said, looking into her face and assuming a serious lookwhich he did not feel, "suppose I were to come to you next week, orthis week for that matter--to-night say--and tell you I had to go away--that I couldn't stay another minute and wasn't coming back any more--would you come with me?" His sweetheart viewed him with the mostaffectionate glance, her answer ready before the words were out of hismouth. 

"Yes, " she said. 

"You wouldn't stop to argue or arrange?"

"Not if you couldn't wait. "

He smiled when he saw that she took him seriously, and he thought whata chance it would afford for a possible junket of a week or two. Hehad a notion to tell her that he was joking and so brush away her sweetseriousness, but the effect of it was too delightful. He let it stand. 

"Suppose we didn't have time to get married here?" he added, anafterthought striking him. 

"If we got married as soon as we got to the other end of the journey itwould be all right. "

"I meant that, " he said. 

"Yes. "

The morning seemed peculiarly bright to him now. He wondered whatevercould have put such a thought into his head. Impossible as it was, hecould 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. 

"Well, " he said, jokingly, "I'll come and get you one of theseevenings, " and then he laughed. 

"I wouldn't stay with you, though, if you didn't marry me, " Carrieadded reflectively. 

"I don't want you to, " he said tenderly, taking her hand. 

She was extremely happy now that she understood. She loved him themore for thinking that he would rescue her so. As for him, themarriage clause did not dwell in his mind. He was thinking that withsuch affection there could be no bar to his eventual happiness. 

"Let's stroll about, " he said gaily, rising and surveying all thelovely park. 

"All right, " said Carrie. 

They passed the young Irishman, who looked after them with enviouseyes. 

"'Tis a foine couple, " he observed to himself. "They must be rich. "

Chapter XVIA WITLESS ALADDIN--THE GATE TO THE WORLD

 In the course of his present stay in Chicago, Drouet paid some slightattention to the secret order to which he belonged. During his lasttrip he had received a new light on its importance. 

"I tell you, " said another drummer to him, "it's a great thing. Look atHazenstab. He isn't so deuced clever. Of course he's got a good housebehind him, but that won't do alone. I tell you it's his degree. He'sa way-up Mason, and that goes a long way. He's got a secret sign thatstands for something. "

Drouet resolved then and there that he would take more interest in suchmatters. So when he got back to Chicago he repaired to his local lodgeheadquarters. 

"I say, Drouet, " said Mr. Harry Quincel, an individual who was veryprominent in this local branch of the Elks, "you're the man that canhelp us out. "

It was after the business meeting and things were going socially with ahum. Drouet was bobbing around chatting and joking with a score ofindividuals whom he knew. 

"What are you up to?" he inquired genially, turning a smiling face uponhis secret brother. 

"We're trying to get up some theatricals for two weeks from today, andwe want to know if you don't know some young lady who could take apart--it's an easy part. "

"Sure, " said Drouet, "what is it?" He did not trouble to remember thathe knew no one to whom he could appeal on this score. His innate good-nature, however, dictated a favorable reply. 

"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 wethought we would raise it by a little entertainment. "

"Sure, " interrupted Drouet, "that's a good idea. "

"Several of the boys around here have got talent. There's HarryBurbeck, he does a fine black-face turn. Mac Lewis is all right atheavy dramatics. Did you ever hear him recite 'Over the Hills'?"

"Never did. "

"Well, I tell you, he does it fine. "

"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. "Whatare you going to play?"

"'Under the Gaslight, '" said Mr. Quincel, mentioning Augustin Daly'sfamous production, which had worn from a great public success down toan amateur theatrical favorite, with many of the troublesomeaccessories cut out and the dramatis personae reduced to the smallestpossible number. 

Drouet had seen this play some time in the past. 

"That's it, " he said; "that's a fine play. It will go all right. Youought to make a lot of money out of that. "

"We think we'll do very well, " Mr. Quincel replied. "Don't you forgetnow, " he concluded, Drouet showing signs of restlessness; "some youngwoman to take the part of Laura. "

"Sure, I'll attend to it. "

He moved away, forgetting almost all about it the moment Mr. Quincelhad ceased talking. He had not even thought to ask the time or place. 

Drouet was reminded of his promise a day or two later by the receipt ofa letter announcing that the first rehearsal was set for the followingFriday evening, and urging him to kindly forward the young lady'saddress at once, in order that the part might be delivered to her. 

"Now, who the deuce do I know?" asked the drummer reflectively, scratching his rosy ear. "I don't know any one that knows anythingabout amateur theatricals. "

He went over in memory the names of a number of women he knew, andfinally fixed on one, largely because of the convenient location of herhome on the West Side, and promised himself that as he came out thatevening he would see her. When, however, he started west on the car heforgot, and was only reminded of his delinquency by an item in the"Evening News"--a small three-line affair under the head of SecretSociety Notes--which stated the Custer Lodge of the Order of Elks wouldgive a theatrical performance in Avery Hall on the 16th, when "Underthe Gaslight" would be produced. 

"George!" exclaimed Drouet, "I forgot that. "

"What?" inquired Carrie. 

They were at their little table in the room which might have been usedfor a kitchen, where Carrie occasionally served a meal. Tonight thefancy had caught her, and the little table was spread with a pleasingrepast. 

"Why, my lodge entertainment. They're going to give a play, and theywanted me to get them some young lady to take a part. "

"What is it they're going to play?"

"'Under the Gaslight. '"

"When?"

"On the 16th. "

"Well, why don't you?" asked Carrie. 

"I don't know any one, " he replied. 

Suddenly he looked up. 

"Say, " he said, "how would you like to take the part?"

"Me?" said Carrie. "I can't act. "

"How do you know?" questioned Drouet reflectively. 

"Because, " answered Carrie, "I never did. "

Nevertheless, she was pleased to think he would ask. Her eyesbrightened, for if there was anything that enlisted her sympathies itwas the art of the stage. True to his nature, Drouet clung to this ideaas an easy way out. 

"That's nothing. You can act all you have to down there. "

"No, I can't, " said Carrie weakly, very much drawn toward theproposition and yet fearful. 

"Yes, you can. Now, why don't you do it? They need some one, and itwill be lots of fun for you. "

"Oh, no, it won't, " said Carrie seriously. 

"You'd like that. I know you would. I've seen you dancing around hereand giving imitations and that's why I asked you. You're clever enough, all right. "

"No, I'm not, " said Carrie shyly. 

"Now, I'll tell you what you do. You go down and see about it. It'llbe 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?"

He frowned as he thought of their ignorance. 

"Hand me the coffee, " he added. 

"I don't believe I could act, Charlie, " Carrie went on pettishly. "Youdon't think I could, do you?"

"Sure. Out o' sight. I bet you make a hit. Now you want to go, Iknow you do. I knew it when I came home. That's why I asked you. "

"What is the play, did you say?"

"'Under the Gaslight. '"

"What part would they want me to take?"

"Oh, one of the heroines--I don't know. "

"What sort of a play is it?"

"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 anda woman that live in the slums. She had some money or something andthey wanted to get it. I don't know now how it did go exactly. "

"Don't you know what part I would have to take?"

"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. "

"And you can't remember what the part is like?"

"To save me, Cad, I can't, " he answered. "I ought to, too; I've seenthe play enough. There's a girl in it that was stolen when she was aninfant--was picked off the street or something--and she's the onethat's hounded by the two old criminals I was telling you about. " Hestopped with a mouthful of pie poised on a fork before his face. "Shecomes very near getting drowned--no, that's not it. I'll tell you whatI'll do, " he concluded hopelessly, "I'll get you the book. I can'tremember now for the life of me. "

"Well, I don't know, " said Carrie, when he had concluded, her interestand desire to shine dramatically struggling with her timidity for themastery. "I might go if you thought I'd do all right. "

"Of course, you'll do, " said Drouet, who, in his efforts to enthuseCarrie, had interested himself. "Do you think I'd come home here andurge you to do something that I didn't think you would make a successof? You can act all right. It'll be good for you. "

"When must I go?" said Carrie, reflectively. 

"The first rehearsal is Friday night. I'll get the part for you to-night. "

"All right, " said Carrie resignedly, "I'll do it, but if I make afailure now it's your fault. "

"You won't fail, " assured Drouet. "Just act as you do around here. Benatural. You're all right. I've often thought you'd make a corkinggood actress. "

"Did you really?" asked Carrie. 

"That's right, " said the drummer. 

He little knew as he went out of the door that night what a secretflame he had kindled in the bosom of the girl he left behind. Carriewas possessed of that sympathetic, impressionable nature which, ever inthe most developed form, has been the glory of the drama. She wascreated with that passivity of soul which is always the mirror of theactive world. She possessed an innate taste for imitation and no smallability. Even without practice, she could sometimes restore dramaticsituations she had witnessed by re-creating, before her mirror, theexpressions of the various faces taking part in the scene. She lovedto modulate her voice after the conventional manner of the distressedheroine, and repeat such pathetic fragments as appealed most to hersympathies. Of late, seeing the airy grace of the ingenue in severalwell-constructed plays, she had been moved to secretly imitate it, andmany were the little movements and expressions of the body in which sheindulged from time to time in the privacy of her chamber. On severaloccasions, when Drouet had caught her admiring herself, as he imagined, in the mirror, she was doing nothing more than recalling some littlegrace of the mouth or the eyes which she had witnessed in another. Under his airy accusation she mistook this for vanity and accepted theblame with a faint sense of error, though, as a matter of fact, it wasnothing more than the first subtle outcroppings of an artistic nature, endeavoring to re-create the perfect likeness of some phase of beautywhich appealed to her. In such feeble tendencies, be it known, suchoutworking of desire to reproduce life, lies the basis of all dramaticart. 

Now, when Carrie heard Drouet's laudatory opinion of her dramaticability, her body tingled with satisfaction. Like the flame whichwelds the loosened particles into a solid mass, his words united thosefloating wisps of feeling which she had felt, but never believed, concerning her possible ability, and made them into a gaudy shred ofhope. Like all human beings, she had a touch of vanity. She felt thatshe could do things if she only had a chance. How often had she lookedat the well-dressed actresses on the stage and wondered how she wouldlook, how delightful she would feel if only she were in their place. The glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause, thesehad lured her until she felt that she, too, could act--that she, too, could compel acknowledgment of power. Now she was told that she reallycould--that little things she had done about the house had made evenhim feel her power. It was a delightful sensation while it lasted. 

When Drouet was gone, she sat down in her rocking-chair by the windowto think about it. As usual, imagination exaggerated the possibilitiesfor her. It was as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she hadexercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars. She saw herself in ascore of pathetic situations in which she assumed a tremulous voice andsuffering manner. Her mind delighted itself with scenes of luxury andrefinement, situations in which she was the cynosure of all eyes, thearbiter of all fates. As she rocked to and fro she felt the tensity ofwoe in abandonment, the magnificence of wrath after deception, thelanguor of sorrow after defeat. Thoughts of all the charming women shehad seen in plays--every fancy, every illusion which she had concerningthe stage--now came back as a returning tide after the ebb. She builtup feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant. 

Drouet dropped in at the lodge when he went down town, and swashedaround with a great AIR, as Quincel met him. 

"Where is that young lady you were going to get for us?" asked thelatter. 

"I've got her, " said Drouet. 

"Have you?" said Quincel, rather surprised by his promptness; "that'sgood. What's her address?" and he pulled out his notebook in order tobe able to send her part to her. 

"You want to send her her part?" asked the drummer. 

"Yes. "

"Well, I'll take it. I'm going right by her house in the morning. 

"What did you say her address was? We only want it in case we have anyinformation to send her. "

"Twenty-nine Ogden Place. "

"And her name?"

"Carrie Madenda, " said the drummer, firing at random. The lodgemembers knew him to be single. 

"That sounds like somebody that can act, doesn't it?" said Quincel. 

"Yes, it does. "

He took the part home to Carrie and handed it to her with the manner ofone who does a favor. 

"He says that's the best part. Do you think you can do it?"

"I don't know until I look it over. You know I'm afraid, now that I'vesaid I would. "

"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. "

"Well, I'll see, " said Carrie, pleased to have the part, for all hermisgivings. 

He sidled around, dressing and fidgeting before he arranged to make hisnext remark. 

"They were getting ready to print the programs, " he said, "and I gavethem the name of Carrie Madenda. Was that all right?"

"Yes, I guess so, " said his companion, looking up at him. She wasthinking it was slightly strange. 

"If you didn't make a hit, you know, " he went on. 

"Oh, yes, " she answered, rather pleased now with his caution. It wasclever for Drouet. 

"I didn't want to introduce you as my wife, because you'd feel worsethen if you didn't GO. They all know me so well. But you'll GO allright. Anyhow, you'll probably never meet any of them again. "

"Oh, I don't care, " said Carrie desperately. She was determined now tohave a try at the fascinating game. 

Drouet breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid that he was aboutto precipitate another conversation upon the marriage question. 

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 trueto the most sacred traditions of melodrama as he found it when he beganhis career. The sorrowful demeanor, the tremolo music, the long, explanatory, cumulative addresses, all were there. 

"Poor fellow, " read Carrie, consulting the text and drawing her voiceout pathetically. "Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine beforehe goes. "

She was surprised at the briefness of the entire part, not knowing thatshe must be on the stage while others were talking, and not only bethere, but also keep herself in harmony with the dramatic movement ofthe scenes. 

"I think I can do that, though, " she concluded. 

When Drouet came the next night, she was very much satisfied with herday's study. 

"Well, how goes it, Caddie?" he said. 

"All right, " she laughed. "I think I have it memorized nearly. "

"That's good, " he said. "Let's hear some of it. "

"Oh, I don't know whether I can get up and say it off here, " she saidbashfully. 

"Well, I don't know why you shouldn't. It'll be easier here than itwill there. "

"I don't know about that, " she answered. Eventually she took off theballroom episode with considerable feeling, forgetting, as she gotdeeper in the scene, all about Drouet, and letting herself rise to afine state of feeling. 

"Good, " said Drouet; "fine, out o' sight! You're all right Caddie, Itell you. "

He was really moved by her excellent representation and the generalappearance of the pathetic little figure as it swayed and finallyfainted to the floor. He had bounded up to catch her, and now held herlaughing in his arms. 

"Ain't you afraid you'll hurt yourself?" he asked. 

"Not a bit. "

"Well, you're a wonder. Say, I never knew you could do anything likethat. "

"I never did, either, " said Carrie merrily, her face flushed withdelight. 

"Well, you can bet that you're all right, " said Drouet. "You can takemy word for that. You won't fail. "

Chapter XVIIA GLIMPSE THROUGH THE GATEWAY--HOPE LIGHTENS THE EYE

 The, to Carrie, very important theatrical performance was to takeplace at the Avery on conditions which were to make it more noteworthythan was at first anticipated. The little dramatic student had writtento Hurstwood the very morning her part was brought her that she wasgoing to take part in a play. 

"I really am, " she wrote, feeling that he might take it as a jest; "Ihave my part now, honest, truly. "

Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this. 

"I wonder what it is going to be? I must see that. "

He answered at once, making a pleasant reference to her ability. "Ihaven't the slightest doubt you will make a success. You must come tothe park to-morrow morning and tell me all about it. "

Carrie gladly complied, and revealed all the details of the undertakingas she understood it. 

"Well, " he said, "that's fine. I'm glad to hear it. Of course, youwill do well, you're so clever. "

He had truly never seen so much spirit in the girl before. Hertendency to discover a touch of sadness had for the nonce disappeared. As she spoke her eyes were bright, her cheeks red. She radiated much ofthe pleasure which her undertakings gave her. For all her misgivings--and they were as plentiful as the moments of the day--she was stillhappy. She could not repress her delight in doing this little thingwhich, to an ordinary observer, had no importance at all. 

Hurstwood was charmed by the development of the fact that the girl hadcapabilities. There is nothing so inspiring in life as the sight of alegitimate ambition, no matter how incipient. It gives color, force, and beauty to the possessor. 

Carrie was now lightened by a touch of this divine afflatus. She drewto herself commendation from her two admirers which she had not earned. Their affection for her naturally heightened their perception of whatshe was trying to do and their approval of what she did. Herinexperience conserved her own exuberant fancy, which ran riot withevery straw of opportunity, making of it a golden divining rod wherebythe treasure of life was to be discovered. 

"Let's see, " said Hurstwood, "I ought to know some of the boys in thelodge. I'm an Elk myself. "

"Oh, you mustn't let him know I told you. "

"That's so, " said the manager. 

"I'd like for you to be there, if you want to come, but I don't see howyou can unless he asks you. "

"I'll be there, " said Hurstwood affectionately. "I can fix it so hewon't know you told me. You leave it to me. "

This interest of the manager was a large thing in itself for theperformance, for his standing among the Elks was something worthtalking about. Already he was thinking of a box with some friends, andflowers for Carrie. He would make it a dress-suit affair and give thelittle girl a chance. 

Within a day or two, Drouet dropped into the Adams Street resort, andhe was at once spied by Hurstwood. It was at five in the afternoon andthe place was crowded with merchants, actors, managers, politicians, agoodly company of rotund, rosy figures, silk-hatted, starchy-bosomed, beringed and bescarfpinned to the queen's taste. John L. Sullivan, thepugilist, was at one end of the glittering bar, surrounded by a companyof loudly dressed sports, who were holding a most animatedconversation. Drouet came across the floor with a festive stride, anew pair of tan shoes squeaking audibly at his progress. 

"Well, sir, " said Hurstwood, "I was wondering what had become of you. I thought you had gone out of town again. "

Drouet laughed. 

"If you don't report more regularly we'll have to cut you off thelist. "

"Couldn't help it, " said the drummer, "I've been busy. "

They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shifting company ofnotables. The dressy manager was shaken by the hand three times in asmany minutes. 

"I hear your lodge is going to give a performance, " observed Hurstwood, in the most offhand manner. 

"Yes, who told you?"

"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?"

"I don't know, " replied the drummer. "They've been trying to get me toget some woman to take a part. "

"I wasn't intending to go, " said the manager easily. "I'll subscribe, of course. How are things over there?"

"All right. They're going to fit things up out of the proceeds. "

"Well, " said the manager, "I hope they make a success of it. Haveanother?"

He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should appear on thescene with a few friends, he could say that he had been urged to comealong. Drouet had a desire to wipe out the possibility of confusion. 

"I think the girl is going to take a part in it, " he said abruptly, after thinking it over. 

"You don't say so! How did that happen?"

"Well, they were short and wanted me to find them some one. I toldCarrie, and she seems to want to try. "

"Good for her, " said the manager. "It'll be a real nice affair. Do hergood, too. Has she ever had any experience?"

"Not a bit. "

"Oh, well, it isn't anything very serious. "

"She's clever, though, " said Drouet, casting off any imputation againstCarrie's ability. "She picks up her part quick enough. "

"You don't say so!" said the manager. 

"Yes, sir; she surprised me the other night. By George, if shedidn't. "

"We must give her a nice little send-off, " said the manager. "I'll lookafter the flowers. "

Drouet smiled at his good-nature. 

"After the show you must come with me and we'll have a little supper. "

"I think she'll do all right, " said Drouet. 

"I want to see her. She's got to do all right. We'll make her, " andthe manager gave one of his quick, steely half-smiles, which was acompound of good-nature and shrewdness. 

Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this performanceMr. Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, a young man who had somequalifications of past experience, which were not exactly understood byany one. He was so experienced and so business-like, however, that hecame very near being rude-failing to remember, as he did, that theindividuals he was trying to instruct were volunteer players and notsalaried underlings. 

"Now, Miss Madenda, " he said, addressing Carrie, who stood in one partuncertain as to what move to make, "you don't want to stand like that. Put expression in your face. Remember, you are troubled over theintrusion of the stranger. Walk so, " and he struck out across theAvery stage in almost drooping manner. 

Carrie did not exactly fancy the suggestion, but the novelty of thesituation, the presence of strangers, all more or less nervous, and thedesire to do anything rather than make a failure, made her timid. Shewalked in imitation of her mentor as requested, inwardly feeling thatthere was something strangely lacking. 

"Now, Mrs. Morgan, " said the director to one young married woman whowas to take the part of Pearl, "you sit here. Now, Mr. Bamberger, youstand here, so. Now, what is it you say?"

"Explain, " said Mr. Bamberger feebly. He had the part of Ray, Laura'slover, the society individual who was to waver in his thoughts ofmarrying her, upon finding that she was a waif and a nobody by birth. 

"How is that--what does your text say?"

"Explain, " repeated Mr. Bamberger, looking intently at his part. 

"Yes, but it also says, " the director remarked, "that you are to lookshocked. Now, say it again, and see if you can't look shocked. "

"Explain!" demanded Mr. Bamberger vigorously. 

"No, no, that won't do! Say it this way--EXPLAIN. "

"Explain, " said Mr. Bamberger, giving a modified imitation. 

"That's better. Now go on. "

"One night, " resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose lines came next, "father andmother were going to the opera. When they were crossing Broadway, theusual crowd of children accosted them for alms--"

"Hold on, " said the director, rushing forward, his arm extended. "Putmore feeling into what you are saying. "

Mrs. Morgan looked at him as if she feared a personal assault. Her eyelightened with resentment. 

"Remember, Mrs. Morgan, " he added, ignoring the gleam, but modifyinghis manner, "that you're detailing a pathetic story. You are nowsupposed to be telling something that is a grief to you. It requiresfeeling, repression, thus: 'The usual crowd of children accosted themfor alms. '"

"All right, " said Mrs. Morgan. 

"Now, go on. "

"As mother felt in her pocket for some change, her fingers touched acold and trembling hand which had clutched her purse. "

"Very good, " interrupted the director, nodding his head significantly. 

"A pickpocket! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger, speaking the lines thathere fell to him. 

"No, no, Mr. Bamberger, " said the director, approaching, "not that way. 'A pickpocket--well?' so. That's the idea. "

"Don't you think, " said Carrie weakly, noticing that it had not beenproved yet whether the members of the company knew their lines, letalone the details of expression, "that it would be better if we justwent through our lines once to see if we know them? We might pick upsome points. "

"A very good idea, Miss Madenda, " said Mr. Quincel, who sat at the sideof the stage, looking serenely on and volunteering opinions which thedirector did not heed. 

"All right, " said the latter, somewhat abashed, "it might be well to doit. " Then brightening, with a show of authority, "Suppose we run rightthrough, putting in as much expression as we can. "

"Good, " said Mr. Quincel. 

"This hand, " resumed Mrs. Morgan, glancing up at Mr. Bamberger and downat her book, as the lines proceeded, "my mother grasped in her own, andso tight that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. Mother looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl. "

"Very good, " observed the director, now hopelessly idle. 

"The thief!" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger. 

"Louder, " put in the director, finding it almost impossible to keep hishands off. 

"The thief!" roared poor Bamberger. 

"Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an angel's. 'Stop, ' said my mother. 'What are you doing?'

"'Trying to steal, ' said the child. 

"'Don't you know that it is wicked to do so?' asked my father. 

"'No, ' said the girl, 'but it is dreadful to be hungry. '

"'Who told you to steal?' asked my mother. 

"'She--there, ' said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a doorwayopposite, who fled suddenly down the street. 'That is old Judas, ' saidthe girl. "

Mrs. Morgan read this rather flatly, and the director was in despair. He fidgeted around, and then went over to Mr. Quincel. 

"What do you think of them?" he asked. 

"Oh, I guess we'll be able to whip them into shape, " said the latter, with an air of strength under difficulties. 

"I don't know, " said the director. "That fellow Bamberger strikes meas being a pretty poor shift for a lover. "

"He's all we've got, " said Quincel, rolling up his eyes. "Harrison wentback on me at the last minute. Who else can we get?"

"I don't know, " said the director. "I'm afraid he'll never pick up. "

At this moment Bamberger was exclaiming, "Pearl, you are joking withme. " "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 likethat?"

"Do the best you can, " said Quincel consolingly. 

The rendition ran on in this wise until it came to where Carrie, asLaura, comes into the room to explain to Ray, who, after hearingPearl's statement about her birth, had written the letter repudiatingher, which, however, he did not deliver. Bamberger was just concludingthe 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:

"Ray!"

"Miss--Miss Courtland, " Bamberger faltered weakly. 

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 herlips, turning as the lines directed and going to a window, as if hewere not present. She did it with a grace which was fascinating tolook upon. 

"Who is that woman?" asked the director, watching Carrie in her littlescene with Bamberger. 

"Miss Madenda, " said Quincel. 

"I know her name, " said the director, "but what does she do?"

"I don't know, " said Quincel. "She's a friend of one of our members. "

"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. "

"Pretty, too, isn't she?" said Quincel. 

The director strolled away without answering. 

In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the company in theball-room, she did even better, winning the smile of the director, whovolunteered, because of her fascination for him, to come over and speakwith her. 

"Were you ever on the stage?" he asked insinuatingly. 

"No, " said Carrie. 

"You do so well, I thought you might have had some experience. "

Carrie only smiled consciously. 

He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was feebly spouting someardent line. 

Mrs. Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at Carrie with enviousand snapping black eyes. 

"She's some cheap professional, " she gave herself the satisfaction ofthinking, and scorned and hated her accordingly. 

The rehearsal ended for one day, and Carrie went home feeling that shehad acquitted herself satisfactorily. The words of the director wereringing in her ears, and she longed for an opportunity to tellHurstwood. She wanted him to know just how well she was doing. Drouet, too, was an object for her confidences. She could hardly waituntil he should ask her, and yet she did not have the vanity to bringit up. The drummer, however, had another line of thought to-night, andher little experience did not appeal to him as important. He let theconversation drop, save for what she chose to recite withoutsolicitation, and Carrie was not good at that. He took it for grantedthat 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 wasas if he were now the only friend she had on earth. The next morningDrouet was interested again, but the damage had been done. 

She got a pretty letter from the manager, saying that by the time shegot it he would be waiting for her in the park. When she came, heshone upon her as the morning sun. 

"Well, my dear, " he asked, "how did you come out?"

"Well enough, " she said, still somewhat reduced after Drouet. 

"Now, tell me just what you did. Was it pleasant?"

Carrie related the incidents of the rehearsal, warming up as sheproceeded. 

"Well, that's delightful, " said Hurstwood. "I'm so glad. I must getover there to see you. When is the next rehearsal?"

"Tuesday, " said Carrie, "but they don't allow visitors. "

"I imagine I could get in, " said Hurstwood significantly. 

She was completely restored and delighted by his consideration, but shemade him promise not to come around. 

"Now, you must do your best to please me, " he said encouragingly. "Justremember that I want you to succeed. We will make the performanceworth while. You do that now. "

"I'll try, " said Carrie, brimming with affection and enthusiasm. 

"That's the girl, " said Hurstwood fondly. "Now, remember, " shaking anaffectionate finger at her, "your best. "

"I will, " she answered, looking back. 

The whole earth was brimming sunshine that morning. She tripped along, the clear sky pouring liquid blue into her soul. Oh, blessed are thechildren of endeavor in this, that they try and are hopeful. Andblessed also are they who, knowing, smile and approve. 

Chapter XVIIIJUST OVER THE BORDER--A HAIL AND FAREWELL

 By the evening of the 16th the subtle hand of Hurstwood had madeitself apparent. He had given the word among his friends--and theywere many and influential--that here was something which they ought toattend, and, as a consequence, the sale of tickets by Mr. Quincel, acting for the lodge, had been large. Small four-line notes hadappeared in all of the daily newspapers. These he had arranged for bythe aid of one of his newspaper friends on the "Times, " Mr. HarryMcGarren, the managing editor. 

"Say, Harry, " Hurstwood said to him one evening, as the latter stood atthe bar drinking before wending his belated way homeward, "you can helpthe boys out, I guess. "

"What is it?" said McGarren, pleased to be consulted by the opulentmanager. 

"The Custer Lodge is getting up a little entertainment for their owngood, 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. "

"Certainly, " said McGarren, "I can fix that for you, George. "

At the same time Hurstwood kept himself wholly in the background. Themembers of Custer Lodge could scarcely understand why their littleaffair was taking so well. Mr. Harry Quincel was looked upon as quitea star for this sort of work. 

By the time the 16th had arrived Hurstwood's friends had rallied likeRomans to a senator's call. A well-dressed, good-natured, flatteringly-inclined audience was assured from the moment he thoughtof assisting Carrie. 

That little student had mastered her part to her own satisfaction, muchas she trembled for her fate when she should once face the gatheredthrong, behind the glare of the footlights. She tried to consoleherself with the thought that a score of other persons, men and women, were equally tremulous concerning the outcome of their efforts, but shecould not disassociate the general danger from her own individualliability. She feared that she would forget her lines, that she mightbe unable to master the feeling which she now felt concerning her ownmovements in the play. At times she wished that she had never goneinto the affair; at others, she trembled lest she should be paralyzedwith fear and stand white and gasping, not knowing what to say andspoiling the entire performance. 

In the matter of the company, Mr. Bamberger had disappeared. Thathopeless example had fallen under the lance of the director'scriticism. Mrs. Morgan was still present, but envious and determined, if for nothing more than spite, to do as well as Carrie at least. Aloafing professional had been called in to assume the role of Ray, and, while he was a poor stick of his kind, he was not troubled by any ofthose qualms which attack the spirit of those who have never faced anaudience. He swashed about (cautioned though he was to maintainsilence concerning his past theatrical relationships) in such a self-confident manner that he was like to convince every one of his identityby mere matter of circumstantial evidence. 

"It is so easy, " he said to Mrs. Morgan, in the usual affected stagevoice. "An audience would be the last thing to trouble me. It's thespirit of the part, you know, that is difficult. "

Carrie disliked his appearance, but she was too much the actress not toswallow his qualities with complaisance, seeing that she must sufferhis fictitious love for the evening. 

At six she was ready to go. Theatrical paraphernalia had been providedover and above her care. She had practiced 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 theevening to come. 

On this occasion the lodge sent a carriage. Drouet rode with her asfar as the door, and then went about the neighboring stores, lookingfor some good cigars. The little actress marched nervously into herdressing-room and began that painfully anticipated matter of make-upwhich was to transform her, a simple maiden, to Laura, The Belle ofSociety. 

The flare of the gas-jets, the open trunks, suggestive of travel anddisplay, the scattered contents of the make-up box--rouge, pearlpowder, whiting, burnt cork, India ink, pencils for the eye-lids, wigs, scissors, looking-glasses, drapery--in short, all the namelessparaphernalia of disguise, have a remarkable atmosphere of their own. Since her arrival in the city many things had influenced her, butalways in a far-removed manner. This new atmosphere was more friendly. It was wholly unlike the great brilliant mansions which waved hercoldly away, permitting her only awe and distant wonder. This took herby the hand kindly, as one who says, "My dear, come in. " It opened forher as if for its own. She had wondered at the greatness of the namesupon the bill-boards, the marvel of the long notices in the papers, thebeauty of the dresses upon the stage, the atmosphere of carriages, flowers, refinement. Here was no illusion. Here was an open door tosee all of that. She had come upon it as one who stumbles upon asecret passage and, behold, she was in the chamber of diamonds anddelight!

As she dressed with a flutter, in her little stage room, hearing thevoices outside, seeing Mr. Quincel hurrying here and there, noting Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Hoagland at their nervous work of preparation, seeingall the twenty members of the cast moving about and worrying over whatthe result would be, she could not help thinking what a delight thiswould be if it would endure; how perfect a state, if she could only dowell now, and then some time get a place as a real actress. Thethought had taken a mighty hold upon her. It hummed in her ears as themelody of an old song. 

Outside in the little lobby another scene was begin enacted. Withoutthe interest of Hurstwood, the little hall would probably have beencomfortably filled, for the members of the lodge were moderatelyinterested in its welfare. Hurstwood's word, however, had gone therounds. It was to be a full-dress affair. The four boxes had beentaken. Dr. Norman McNeill Hale and his wife were to occupy one. Thiswas quite a card. C. R. Walker, dry-goods merchant and possessor of atleast two hundred thousand dollars, had taken another; a well-knowncoal merchant had been induced to take the third, and Hurstwood and hisfriends the fourth. Among the latter was Drouet. The people who werenow pouring here were not celebrities, nor even local notabilities, ina general sense. They were the lights of a certain circle--the circleof small fortunes and secret order distinctions. These gentlemen Elksknew the standing of one another. They had regard for the abilitywhich could amass a small fortune, own a nice home, keep a barouche orcarriage, perhaps, wear fine clothes, and maintain a good mercantileposition. Naturally, Hurstwood, who was a little above the order ofmind which accepted this standard as perfect, who had shrewdness andmuch assumption of dignity, who held an imposing and authoritativeposition, and commanded friendship by intuitive tact in handlingpeople, was quite a figure. He was more generally known than mostothers in the same circle, and was looked upon as some one whosereserve covered a mine of influence and solid financial prosperity. 

To-night he was in his element. He came with several friends directlyfrom Rector's in a carriage. In the lobby he met Drouet, who was justreturning from a trip for more cigars. All five now joined in ananimated conversation concerning the company present and the generaldrift of lodge affairs. 

"Who's here?" said Hurstwood, passing into the theatre proper, wherethe lights were turned up and a company of gentlemen were laughing andtalking in the open space back of the seats. 

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Hurstwood?" came from the first individualrecognized. 

"Glad to see you, " said the latter, grasping his hand lightly. 

"Looks quite an affair, doesn't it?"

"Yes, indeed, " said the manager. 

"Custer seems to have the backing of its members, " observed the friend. 

"So it should, " said the knowing manager. "I'm glad to see it. "

"Well, George, " said another rotund citizen, whose avoirdupois madenecessary an almost alarming display of starched shirt bosom, "how goesit with you?"

"Excellent, " said the manager. 

"What brings you over here? You're not a member of Custer. "

"Good-nature, " returned the manager. "Like to see the boys, you know. "

"Wife here?"

"She couldn't come to-night. She's not well. "

"Sorry to hear it--nothing serious, I hope. "

"No, just feeling a little ill. "

"I remember Mrs. Hurstwood when she was traveling once with you overto St. Joe--" and here the newcomer launched off in a trivialrecollection, which was terminated by the arrival of more friends. 

"Why, George, how are you?" said another genial West Side politicianand lodge member. "My, but I'm glad to see you again; how are things, anyhow?"

"Very well; I see you got that nomination for alderman. "

"Yes, we whipped them out over there without much trouble. "

"What do you suppose Hennessy will do now?"

"Oh, he'll go back to his brick business. He has a brick-yard, youknow. "

"I didn't know that, " said the manager. "Felt pretty sore, I suppose, over his defeat. " "Perhaps, " said the other, winking shrewdly. 

Some of the more favored of his friends whom he had invited began toroll up in carriages now. They came shuffling in with a great show offinery and much evident feeling of content and importance. 

"Here we are, " said Hurstwood, turning to one from a group with whom hewas talking. 

"That's right, " returned the newcomer, a gentleman of about forty-five. 

"And say, " he whispered, jovially, pulling Hurstwood over by theshoulder so that he might whisper in his ear, "if this isn't a goodshow, I'll punch your head. "

"You ought to pay for seeing your old friends. Bother the show!"

To another who inquired, "Is it something really good?" the managerreplied:

"I don't know. I don't suppose so. " Then, lifting his hand graciously, "For the lodge. "

"Lots of boys out, eh?"

"Yes, look up Shanahan. He was just asking for you a moment ago. "

It was thus that the little theatre resounded to a babble of successfulvoices, the creak of fine clothes, the commonplace of good-nature, andall largely because of this man's bidding. Look at him any time withinthe half hour before the curtain was up, he was a member of an eminentgroup--a rounded company of five or more whose stout figures, largewhite 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 wasevidently a light among them, reflecting in his personality theambitions of those who greeted him. He was acknowledged, fawned upon, in a way lionized. Through it all one could see the standing of theman. It was greatness in a way, small as it was. 

Chapter XIXAN HOUR IN ELFLAND--A CLAMOUR HALF HEARD

 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 ofthe small, hired orchestra tapped significantly upon his music rackwith his baton and began the soft curtain-raising strain. Hurstwoodceased talking, and went with Drouet and his friend Sagar Morrisonaround to the box. 

"Now, we'll see how the little girl does, " he said to Drouet, in a tonewhich no one else could hear. 

On the stage, six of the characters had already appeared in the openingparlor scene. Drouet and Hurstwood saw at a glance that Carrie was notamong them, and went on talking in a whisper. Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Hoagland, and the actor who had taken Bamberger's part wererepresenting the principal roles in this scene. The professional, whose name was Patton, had little to recommend him outside of hisassurance, but this at the present moment was most palpably needed. Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, was stiff with fright. Mrs. Hoagland was huskyin the throat. The whole company was so weak-kneed that the lines weremerely spoken, and nothing more. It took all the hope and uncriticalgood-nature of the audience to keep from manifesting pity by thatunrest which is the agony of failure. 

Hurstwood was perfectly indifferent. He took it for granted that itwould be worthless. All he cared for was to have it endurable enoughto allow for pretension and congratulation afterward. 

After the first rush of fright, however, the players got over thedanger of collapse. They rambled weakly forward, losing nearly all theexpression which was intended, and making the thing dull in theextreme, when Carrie came in. 

One glance at her, and both Hurstwood and Drouet saw plainly that shealso was weak-kneed. She came faintly across the stage, saying:

"And you, sir; we have been looking for you since eight o'clock, " butwith so little color and in such a feeble voice that it was positivelypainful. 

"She's frightened, " whispered Drouet to Hurstwood. 

The manager made no answer. 

She had a line presently which was supposed to be funny. 

"Well, that's as much as to say that I'm a sort of life pill. "

It came out so flat, however, that it was a deathly thing. Drouetfidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least bit. 

There was another place in which Laura was to rise and, with a sense ofimpending disaster, say, sadly:

"I wish you hadn't said that, Pearl. You know the old proverb, 'Call amaid by a married name. '"

The lack of feeling in the thing was ridiculous. Carrie did not get itat all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. It looked as if shewere certain to be a wretched failure. She was more hopeless than Mrs. Morgan, who had recovered somewhat, and was now saying her linesclearly 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 hypnotize her into doingbetter. He was pouring determination of his own in her direction. Hefelt sorry for her. 

In a few more minutes it fell to her to read the letter sent in by thestrange villain. The audience had been slightly diverted by aconversation between the professional actor and a character calledSnorky, impersonated by a short little American, who really developedsome humor as a half-crazed, one-armed soldier, turned messenger for aliving. He bawled his lines out with such defiance that, while theyreally did not partake of the humor intended, they were funny. Now hewas off, however, and it was back to pathos, with Carrie as the chieffigure. She did not recover. She wandered through the whole scenebetween herself and the intruding villain, straining the patience ofthe audience, and finally exiting, much to their relief. 

"She's too nervous, " said Drouet, feeling in the mildness of the remarkthat he was lying for once. 

"Better go back and say a word to her. "

Drouet was glad to do anything for relief. He fairly hustled around tothe side entrance, and was let in by the friendly doorkeeper. Carriewas standing in the wings, weakly waiting her next cue, all the snapand nerve gone out of her. 

"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 afraidof?"

"I don't know, " said Carrie. "I just don't seem to be able to do it. "

She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. She had found thecompany so nervous that her own strength had gone. 

"Come on, " said Drouet. "Brace up. What are you afraid of? Go on outthere now, and do the trick. What do you care?"

Carrie revived a little under the drummer's electrical, nervouscondition. 

"Did I do so very bad?"

"Not a bit. All you need is a little more ginger. Do it as you showedme. Get that toss of your head you had the other night. "

Carrie remembered her triumph in the room. She tried to think shecould to it. 

'What's next?" he said, looking at her part, which she had beenstudying. 

"Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse him. "

"Well, now you do that lively, " said the drummer. "Put in snap, that'sthe thing. Act as if you didn't care. "

"Your turn next, Miss Madenda, " said the prompter. 

"Oh, dear, " said Carrie. 

"Well, you're a chump for being afraid, " said Drouet. "Come on now, brace up. I'll watch you from right here. "

"Will you?" said Carrie. 

"Yes, now go on. Don't be afraid. "

The prompter signaled her. 

She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve partiallyreturned. She thought of Drouet looking. 

"Ray, " she said, gently, using a tone of voice much more calm than whenshe had last appeared. It was the scene which had pleased the directorat the rehearsal. 

"She's easier, " thought Hurstwood to himself. 

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 workof the entire company took away direct observation from her. They weremaking very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would bepassable, in the less trying parts at least. 

Carrie came off warm and nervous. 

"Well, " she said, looking at him, "was it any better?"

"Well, I should say so. That's the way. Put life into it. You didthat about a thousand per cent. Better than you did the other scene. Now go on and fire up. You can do it. Knock 'em. "

"Was it really better?"

"Better, I should say so. What comes next?"

"That ballroom scene. "

"Well, you can do that all right, " he said. 

"I don't know, " answered Carrie. 

"Why, woman, " he exclaimed, "you did it for me! Now you go out thereand do it. It'll be fun for you. Just do as you did in the room. Ifyou'll reel it off that way, I'll bet you make a hit. Now, what'll youbet? You do it. "

The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature to get the better ofhis speech. He really did think that Carrie had acted this particularscene very well, and he wanted her to repeat it in public. Hisenthusiasm was due to the mere spirit of the occasion. 

When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most effectually. He began tomake her feel as if she had done very well. The old melancholy ofdesire began to come back as he talked at her, and by the time thesituation rolled around she was running high in feeling. 

"I think I can do this. "

"Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see. "

On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel insinuation againstLaura. 

Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something--she did notknow what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly. 

"It means, " the professional actor began, speaking as Ray, "thatsociety is a terrible avenger of insult. Have you ever heard of theSiberian wolves? When one of the pack falls through weakness, theothers devour him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there issomething wolfish in society. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, andsociety, which is made up of pretence, will bitterly resent themockery. "

At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel thebitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descendedupon her. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapped in her own mountingthoughts. She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood. 

"Come, girls, " said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, "let us look after ourthings. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished thiefenters. "

"Cue, " said the prompter, close to her side, but she did not hear. Already she was moving forward with a steady grace, born ofinspiration. 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. 

Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. The radiatingwaves of feeling and sincerity were already breaking against thefarthest walls of the chamber. The magic of passion, which will yetdissolve the world, was here at work. 

There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of feeling, heretofore wandering. 

"Ray! Ray! Why do you not come back to her?" was the cry of Pearl. 

Every eye was fixed on Carrie, still proud and scornful. They moved asshe moved. Their eyes were with her eyes. 

Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, approached her. 

"Let us go home, " she said. 

"No, " answered Carrie, her voice assuming for the first time apenetrating quality which it had never known. "Stay with him!"

She pointed an almost accusing hand toward her lover. Then, with apathos which struck home because of its utter simplicity, "He shall notsuffer long. "

Hurstwood realized that he was seeing something extraordinarily good. It was heightened for him by the applause of the audience as thecurtain descended and the fact that it was Carrie. He thought now thatshe was beautiful. She had done something which was above his sphere. He felt a keen delight in realizing that she was his. 

"Fine, " he said, and then, seized by a sudden impulse, arose and wentabout to the stage door. 

When he came in upon Carrie she was still with Drouet. His feelingsfor her were most exuberant. He was almost swept away by the strengthand feeling she exhibited. His desire was to pour forth his praisewith the unbounded feelings of a lover, but here was Drouet, whoseaffection was also rapidly reviving. The latter was more fascinated, if anything, than Hurstwood. At least, in the nature of things, ittook a more ruddy form. 

"Well, well, " said Drouet, "you did out of sight. That was simplygreat. I knew you could do it. Oh, but you're a little daisy!"

Carrie's eyes flamed with the light of achievement. 

"Did I do all right?"

"Did you? Well, I guess. Didn't you hear the applause?"

There was some faint sound of clapping yet. 

"I thought I got it something like--I felt it. "

Just then Hurstwood came in. Instinctively he felt the change inDrouet. He saw that the drummer was near to Carrie, and jealousyleaped alight in his bosom. In a flash of thought, he reproachedhimself for having sent him back. Also, he hated him as an intruder. He could scarcely pull himself down to the level where he would have tocongratulate Carrie as a friend. Nevertheless, the man masteredhimself, and it was a triumph. He almost jerked the old subtle lightto his eyes. 

"I thought, " he said, looking at Carrie, "I would come around and tellyou how well you did, Mrs. Drouet. It was delightful. "

Carrie took the cue, and replied:

"Oh, thank you. "

"I was just telling her, " put in Drouet, now delighted with hispossession, "that I thought she did fine. "

"Indeed you did, " said Hurstwood, turning upon Carrie eyes in which sheread more than the words. 

Carrie laughed luxuriantly. 

"If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make us all thinkyou are a born actress. "

Carrie smiled again. She felt the acuteness of Hurstwood's position, and wished deeply that she could be alone with him, but she did notunderstand the change in Drouet. Hurstwood found that he could nottalk, repressed as he was, and grudging Drouet every moment of hispresence, he bowed himself out with the elegance of a Faust. Outsidehe set his teeth with envy. 

"Damn it!" he said, "is he always going to be in the way?" He was moodywhen he got back to the box, and could not talk for thinking of hiswretched situation. 

As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came back. He was verymuch enlivened in temper and inclined to whisper, but Hurstwoodpretended interest. He fixed his eyes on the stage, although Carriewas not there, a short bit of melodramatic comedy preceding herentrance. He did not see what was going on, however. He was thinkinghis own thoughts, and they were wretched. 

The progress of the play did not improve matters for him. Carrie, fromnow on, was easily the center of interest. The audience, which hadbeen inclined to feel that nothing could be good after the first gloomyimpression, now went to the other extreme and saw power where it wasnot. The general feeling reacted on Carrie. She presented her partwith some felicity, though nothing like the intensity which had arousedthe feeling at the end of the long first act. 

Both Hurstwood and Drouet viewed her pretty figure with risingfeelings. The fact that such ability should reveal itself in her, thatthey should see it set forth under such effective circumstances, framedalmost in massy gold and shone upon by the appropriate lights ofsentiment and personality, heightened her charm for them. She was morethan the old Carrie to Drouet. He longed to be at home with her untilhe could tell her. He awaited impatiently the end, when they should gohome alone. 

Hurstwood, on the contrary, saw in the strength of her newattractiveness his miserable predicament. He could have cursed the manbeside him. By the Lord, he could not even applaud feelingly as hewould. For once he must simulate when it left a taste in his mouth. 

It was in the last act that Carrie's fascination for her lovers assumedits most effective character. 

Hurstwood listened to its progress, wondering when Carrie would comeon. He had not long to wait. The author had used the artifice ofsending all the merry company for a drive, and now Carrie came inalone. It was the first time that Hurstwood had had a chance to seeher facing the audience quite alone, for nowhere else had she beenwithout a foil of some sort. He suddenly felt, as she entered, thather old strength--the power that had grasped him at the end of thefirst act--had come back. She seemed to be gaining feeling, now thatthe play was drawing to a close and the opportunity for great actionwas passing. 

"Poor Pearl, " she said, speaking with natural pathos. "It is a sadthing to want for happiness, but it is a terrible thing to see anothergroping about blindly for it, when it is almost within the grasp. "

She was gazing now sadly out upon the open sea, her arm restinglistlessly upon the polished door-post. 

Hurstwood began to feel a deep sympathy for her and for himself. Hecould almost feel that she was talking to him. He was, by acombination of feelings and entanglements, almost deluded by thatquality 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. 

"And yet, she can be very happy with him, " went on the little actress. "Her sunny temper, her joyous face will brighten any home. "

She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. There was somuch simplicity in her movements that she seemed wholly alone. Then shefound a seat by a table, and turned over some books, devoting a thoughtto them. 

"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 inthe wide world, and making my joy out of the joy of that innocent girlwho will soon be his wife. "

Hurstwood was sorry when a character, known as Peach Blossom, interrupted her. He stirred irritably, for he wished her to go on. Hewas charmed by the pale face, the lissome figure, draped in pearl gray, with a coiled string of pearls at the throat. Carrie had the air of onewho was weary and in need of protection, and, under the fascinatingmake-believe of the moment, he rose in feeling until he was ready inspirit to go to her and ease her out of her misery by adding to his owndelight. 

In a moment Carrie was alone again, and was saying, with animation:

"I must return to the city, no matter what dangers may lurk here. Imust go, secretly if I can; openly, if I must. "

There was a sound of horses' hoofs outside, and then Ray's voicesaying: "No, I shall not ride again. Put him up. "

He entered, and then began a scene which had as much to do with thecreation of the tragedy of affection in Hurstwood as anything in hispeculiar and involved career. For Carrie had resolved to makesomething of this scene, and, now that the cue had come, it began totake a feeling hold upon her. Both Hurstwood and Drouet noted therising sentiment as she proceeded. 

"I thought you had gone with Pearl, " she said to her lover. 

"I did go part of the way, but I left the Party a mile down the road. "

"You and Pearl had no disagreement?"

"No--yes; that is, we always have. Our social barometers always standat 'cloudy' and 'overcast. '"

"And whose fault is that?" she said, easily. 

"Not mine, " he answered, pettishly. "I know I do all I can--I say allI can--but she----"

This was rather awkwardly put by Patton, but Carrie redeemed it with agrace which was inspiring. 

"But she is your wife, " she said, fixing her whole attention upon thestilled actor, and softening the quality of her voice until it wasagain low and musical. "Ray, my friend, courtship is the text fromwhich the whole sermon of married life takes its theme. Do not letyours be discontented and unhappy. "

She put her two little hands together and pressed them appealingly. 

Hurstwood gazed with slightly parted lips. Drouet was fidgeting withsatisfaction. 

"To be my wife, yes, " went on the actor in a manner which was weak bycomparison, but which could not now spoil the tender atmosphere whichCarrie had created and maintained. She did not seem to feel that hewas wretched. She would have done nearly as well with a block of wood. The accessories she needed were within her own imagination. The actingof others could not affect them. 

"And you repent already?" she said, slowly. 

"I lost you, " he said, seizing her little hand, "and I was at the mercyof any flirt who chose to give me an inviting look. It was your fault--you know it was--why did you leave me?"

Carrie turned slowly away, and seemed to be mastering some impulse insilence. Then she turned back. 

"Ray, " she said, "the greatest happiness I have ever felt has been thethought that all your affection was forever bestowed upon a virtuouswoman, your equal in family, fortune, and accomplishments. What arevelation do you make to me now! What is it makes you continually warwith your happiness?"

The last question was asked so simply that it came to the audience andthe lover as a personal thing. 

At last it came to the part where the lover exclaimed, "Be to me as youused to be. "

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. "

"Be it as you will, " said Patton. 

Hurstwood leaned forward. The whole audience was silent and intent. 

"Let the woman you look upon be wise or vain, " said Carrie, her eyesbent sadly upon the lover, who had sunk into a seat, "beautiful orhomely, rich or poor, she has but one thing she can really give orrefuse--her heart. "

Drouet felt a scratch in his throat. 

"Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may sell to you; but herlove is the treasure without money and without price. "

The manager suffered this as a personal appeal. It came to him as ifthey were alone, and he could hardly restrain the tears for sorrow overthe hopeless, pathetic, and yet dainty and appealing woman whom heloved. Drouet also was beside himself. He was resolving that he wouldbe to Carrie what he had never been before. He would marry her, byGeorge! She was worth it. 

"She asks only in return, " said Carrie, scarcely hearing the small, scheduled reply of her lover, and putting herself even more in harmonywith the plaintive melody now issuing from the orchestra, "that whenyou look upon her your eyes shall speak devotion; that when you addressher your voice shall be gentle, loving, and kind; that you shall notdespise her because she cannot understand all at once your vigorousthoughts and ambitious designs; for, when misfortune and evil havedefeated your greatest purposes, her love remains to console you. Youlook to the trees, " she continued, while Hurstwood restrained hisfeelings only by the grimmest repression, "for strength and grandeur;do not despise the flowers because their fragrance is all they have togive. Remember, " she concluded, tenderly, "love is all a woman has togive, " and she laid a strange, sweet accent on the all, "but it is theonly thing which God permits us to carry beyond the grave. "

The two men were in the most harrowed state of affection. Theyscarcely heard the few remaining words with which the scene concluded. They only saw their idol, moving about with appealing grace, continuinga power which to them was a revelation. 

Hurstwood resolved a thousands things, Drouet as well. They joinedequally in the burst of applause which called Carrie out. Drouetpounded his hands until they ached. Then he jumped up again andstarted out. As he went, Carrie came out, and, seeing an immensebasket of flowers being hurried down the aisle toward her she waited. They were Hurstwood's. She looked toward the manager's box for amoment, caught his eye, and smiled. He could have leaped out of thebox to enfold her. He forgot the need of circumspectness which hismarried state enforced. He almost forgot that he had with him in thebox those who knew him. By the Lord, he would have that lovely girl ifit took his all. He would act at once. This should be the end ofDrouet, and don't you forget it. He would not wait another day. Thedrummer should not have her. 

He was so excited that he could not stay in the box. He went into thelobby, and then into the street, thinking. Drouet did not return. Ina few minutes the last act was over, and he was crazy to have Carriealone. He cursed the luck that could keep him smiling, bowing, shamming, when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, when he wantedto whisper to her alone. He groaned as he saw that his hopes werefutile. He must even take her to supper, shamming. He finally wentabout and asked how she was getting along. The actors were alldressing, talking, hurrying about. Drouet was palavering himself withthe looseness of excitement and passion. The manager mastered himselfonly by a great effort. 

"We are going to supper, of course, " he said, with a voice that was amockery of his heart. 

"Oh, yes, " said Carrie, smiling. 

The little actress was in fine feather. She was realizing now what itwas to be petted. For once she was the admired, the sought-for. Theindependence of success now made its first faint showing. With thetables turned, she was looking down, rather than up, to her lover. Shedid not fully realize that this was so, but there was something incondescension coming from her which was infinitely sweet. When she wasready they climbed into the waiting coach and drove down town; once, only, did she find an opportunity to express her feeling, and that waswhen the manager preceded Drouet in the coach and sat beside her. Before Drouet was fully in she had squeezed Hurstwood's hand in agentle, impulsive manner. The manager was beside himself withaffection. He could have sold his soul to be with her alone. "Ah, " hethought, "the agony of it. "

Drouet hung on, thinking he was all in all. The dinner was spoiled byhis enthusiasm. Hurstwood went home feeling as if he should die if hedid not find affectionate relief. He whispered "to-morrow"passionately to Carrie, and she understood. He walked away from thedrummer and his prize at parting feeling as if he could slay him andnot regret. Carrie also felt the misery of it. 

"Good-night, " he said, simulating an easy friendliness. 

"Good-night, " said the little actress, tenderly. 

"The fool!" he said, now hating Drouet. "The idiot! I'll do him yet, and that quick! We'll see to-morrow. "

"Well, if you aren't a wonder, " Drouet was saying, complacently, squeezing Carrie's arm. "You are the dandiest little girl on earth. "

Chapter XXTHE LURE OF THE SPIRIT--THE FLESH IN PURSUIT

 Passion in a man of Hurstwood's nature takes a vigorous form. It isno musing, dreamy thing. There is none of the tendency to sing outsideof my lady's window--to languish and repine in the face ofdifficulties. In the night he was long getting to sleep because of toomuch thinking, and in the morning he was early awake, seizing withalacrity upon the same dear subject and pursuing it with vigor. He wasout of sorts physically, as well as disordered mentally, for did he notdelight 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 beingheld by the elated, flush-mannered drummer. He would have givenanything, it seemed to him, to have the complication ended--to haveCarrie acquiesce to an arrangement which would dispose of Droueteffectually and forever. 

What to do. He dressed thinking. He moved about in the same chamberwith his wife, unmindful of her presence. 

At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. The meat to whichhe helped himself remained on his plate untouched. His coffee grewcold, while he scanned the paper indifferently. Here and there he reada 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 insilence. A new servant had been recently installed and had forgot thenapkins. On this account the silence was irritably broken by areproof. 

"I've told you about this before, Maggie, " said Mrs. Hurstwood. "I'mnot going to tell you again. "

Hurstwood took a glance at his wife. She was frowning. Just now hermanner irritated him excessively. Her next remark was addressed tohim. 

"Have you made up your mind, George, when you will take your vacation?"

It was customary for them to discuss the regular summer outing at thisseason of the year. 

"Not yet, " he said, "I'm very busy just now. "

"Well, you'll want to make up your mind pretty soon, won't you, ifwe're going?" she returned. 

"I guess we have a few days yet, " he said. 

"Hmff, " she returned. "Don't wait until the season's over. "

She stirred in aggravation as she said this. 

"There you go again, " he observed. "One would think I never didanything, the way you begin. "

"Well, I want to know about it, " she reiterated. 

"You've got a few days yet, " he insisted. "You'll not want to startbefore the races are over. "

He was irritated to think that this should come up when he wished tohave his thoughts for other purposes. 

"Well, we may. Jessica doesn't want to stay until the end of theraces. "

"What did you want with a season ticket, then?"

"Uh!" she said, using the sound as an exclamation of disgust, "I'll notargue with you, " and therewith arose to leave the table. 

"Say, " he said, rising, putting a note of determination in his voicewhich caused her to delay her departure, "what's the matter with you oflate? Can't I talk with you any more?"

"Certainly, you can TALK with me, " she replied, laying emphasis on theword. 

"Well, you wouldn't think so by the way you act. Now, you want to knowwhen I'll be ready--not for a month yet. Maybe not then. "

"We'll go without you. "

"You will, eh?" he sneered. 

"Yes, we will. "

He was astonished at the woman's determination, but it only irritatedhim the more. 

"Well, we'll see about that. It seems to me you're trying to runthings with a pretty high hand of late. You talk as though you settledmy affairs for me. Well, you don't. You don't regulate anythingthat's connected with me. If you want to go, go, but you won't hurryme by any such talk as that. "

He was thoroughly aroused now. His dark eyes snapped, and he crunchedhis paper as he laid it down. Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing more. Hewas just finishing when she turned on her heel and went out into thehall and upstairs. He paused for a moment, as if hesitating, then satdown and drank a little coffee, and thereafter arose and went for hishat and gloves upon the main floor. 

His wife had really not anticipated a row of this character. She hadcome down to the breakfast table feeling a little out of sorts withherself and revolving a scheme which she had in her mind. Jessica hadcalled her attention to the fact that the races were not what they weresupposed to be. The social opportunities were not what they hadthought they would be this year. The beautiful girl found going everyday a dull thing. There was an earlier exodus this year of people whowere anybody to the watering places and Europe. In her own circle ofacquaintances several young men in whom she was interested had gone toWaukesha. She began to feel that she would like to go too, and hermother agreed with her. 

Accordingly, Mrs. Hurstwood decided to broach the subject. She wasthinking this over when she came down to the table, but for some reasonthe atmosphere was wrong. She was not sure, after it was all over, just how the trouble had begun. She was determined now, however, thather husband was a brute, and that, under no circumstances, would shelet this go by unsettled. She would have more lady-like treatment orshe would know why. 

For his part, the manager was loaded with the care of this new argumentuntil he reached his office and started from there to meet Carrie. Then the other complications of love, desire, and opposition possessedhim. His thoughts fled on before him upon eagles' wings. He couldhardly wait until he should meet Carrie face to face. What was thenight, after all, without her--what the day? She must and should behis. 

For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy and feeling sinceshe had left him, the night before. She had listened to Drouet'senthusiastic meanderings with much regard for that part which concernedherself, with very little for that which affected his own gain. Shekept him at such lengths as she could, because her thoughts were withher own triumph. She felt Hurstwood's passion as a delightfulbackground to her own achievement, and she wondered what he would haveto say. She was sorry for him, too, with that peculiar sorrow whichfinds something complimentary to itself in the misery of another. Shewas now experiencing the first shades of feeling of that subtle changewhich removes one out of the ranks of the suppliants into the lines ofthe dispensers of charity. She was, all in all, exceedingly happy. 

On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the papers concerning theevent, and, in view of the flow of common, everyday things about, itnow lost a shade of the glow of the previous evening. Drouet himselfwas not talking so much OF as FOR her. He felt instinctively that, forsome reason or other, he needed reconstruction in her regard. 

"I think, " he said, as he spruced around their chambers the nextmorning, preparatory to going down town, "that I'll straighten out thatlittle deal of mine this month and then we'll get married. I wastalking with Mosher about that yesterday. "

"No, you won't, " said Carrie, who was coming to feel a certain faintpower to jest with the drummer. 

"Yes, I will, " he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, adding, withthe tone of one who pleads, "Don't you believe what I've told you?"

Carrie laughed a little. 

"Of course I do, " she answered. 

Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was his mentalobservation, there was that in the things which had happened which madehis little power of analysis useless. Carrie was still with him, butnot helpless and pleading. There was a lilt in her voice which wasnew. She did not study him with eyes expressive of dependence. Thedrummer was feeling the shadow of something which was coming. Itcolored his feelings and made him develop those little attentions andsay those little words which were mere forefendations against danger. 

Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for her meeting withHurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which was soon made, andhastened down the stairs. At the corner she passed Drouet, but theydid not see each other. 

The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn into hishouse. He hastened up the stairs and burst into the room, but foundonly the chambermaid, who was cleaning up. 

"Hello, " he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?"

"Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes ago. "

"That's strange, " thought Drouet. "She didn't say a word to me. Iwonder where she went?"

He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he wanted, andfinally pocketing it. Then he turned his attention to his fairneighbor, who was good-looking and kindly disposed towards him. 

"What are you up to?" he said, smiling. 

"Just cleaning, " she replied, stopping and winding a dusting towelabout her hand. 

"Tired of it?"

"Not so very. "

"Let me show you something, " he said, affably, coming over and takingout of his pocket a little lithographed card which had been issued by awholesale tobacco company. On this was printed a picture of a prettygirl, holding a striped parasol, the colors of which could be changedby means of a revolving disk in the back, which showed red, yellow, green, and blue through little interstices made in the ground occupiedby the umbrella top. 

"Isn't that clever?" he said, handing it to her and showing her how itworked. "You never saw anything like that before. "

"Isn't it nice?" she answered. 

"You can have it if you want it, " he remarked. 

"That's a pretty ring you have, " he said, touching a commonplacesetting which adorned the hand holding the card he had given her. 

"Do you think so?"

"That's right, " he answered, making use of a pretence at examination tosecure her finger. "That's fine. "

The ice being thus broken, he launched into further observationpretending to forget that her fingers were still retained by his. Shesoon withdrew them, however, and retreated a few feet to rest againstthe window-sill. 

"I didn't see you for a long time, " she said, coquettishly, repulsingone of his exuberant approaches. "You must have been away. "

"I was, " said Drouet. 

"Do you travel far?"

"Pretty far--yes. "

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, not very well. You get tired of it after a while. "

"I wish I could travel, " said the girl, gazing idly out of the window. 

"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. 

"He's here in town. What makes you ask about him?"

"Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got back. "

"How did you come to know him?"

"Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last month?"

"Get out, " said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called more than halfa dozen times since we've been here. "

"He hasn't, eh?" said the girl, smiling. "That's all you know aboutit. "

Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was uncertain as towhether she was joking or not. 

"Tease, " he said, "what makes you smile that way?"

"Oh, nothing. "

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Not since you came back, " she laughed. 

"Before?"

"Certainly. "

"How often?"

"Why, nearly every day. "

She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering what theeffect of her words would be. 

"Who did he come to see?" asked the drummer, incredulously. 

"Mrs. Drouet. "

He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then attempted to correcthimself so as not to appear a dupe. 

"Well, " he said, "what of it?"

"Nothing, " replied the girl, her head cocked coquettishly on one side. 

"He's an old friend, " he went on, getting deeper into the mire. 

He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, but the tastefor it was temporarily removed. He was quite relieved when the girl'snamed was called from below. 

"I've got to go, " she said, moving away from him airily. 

"I'll see you later, " he said, with a pretence of disturbance at beinginterrupted. 

When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. His face, nevereasily controlled by him, expressed all the perplexity and disturbancewhich he felt. Could it be that Carrie had received so many visits andyet said nothing about them? Was Hurstwood lying? What did thechambermaid mean by it, anyway? He had thought there was something oddabout Carrie's manner at the time. Why did she look so disturbed whenhe had asked her how many times Hurstwood had called? By George! Heremembered now. There was something strange about the whole thing. 

He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, drawing up one legon his knee and frowning mightily. His mind ran on at a great rate. 

And yet Carrie hadn't acted out of the ordinary. It couldn't be, byGeorge, 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, andHurstwood too. Look how they acted! He could hardly believe they wouldtry to deceive him. 

His thoughts burst into words. 

"She did act sort of funny at times. Here she had dressed, and goneout this morning and never said a word. "

He scratched his head and prepared to go down town. He was stillfrowning. As he came into the hall he encountered the girl, who wasnow looking after another chamber. She had on a white dusting cap, beneath which her chubby face shone good-naturedly. Drouet almostforgot his worry in the fact that she was smiling on him. He put hishand familiarly on her shoulder, as if only to greet her in passing. 

"Got over being mad?" she said, still mischievously inclined. 

"I'm not mad, " he answered. 

"I thought you were, " she said, smiling. 

"Quit your fooling about that, " he said, in an offhand way. "Were youserious?"

"Certainly, " she answered. Then, with an air of one who did notintentionally mean to create trouble, "He came lots of times. Ithought you knew. "

The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did not try to simulateindifference further. 

"Did he spend the evenings here?" he asked. 

"Sometimes. Sometimes they went out. "

"In the evening?"

"Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though. "

"I'm not, " he said. "Did any one else see him?"

"Of course, " said the girl, as if, after all, it were nothing inparticular. 

"How long ago was this?"

"Just before you came back. "

The drummer pinched his lip nervously. 

"Don't say anything, will you?" he asked, giving the girl's arm agentle squeeze. 

"Certainly not, " she returned. "I wouldn't worry over it. "

"All right, " he said, passing on, seriously brooding for once, and yetnot wholly unconscious of the fact that he was making a most excellentimpression upon the chambermaid. 

"I'll see her about that, " he said to himself, passionately, feelingthat he had been unduly wronged. "I'll find out, b'George, whethershe'll act that way or not. "

 Chapter XXITHE LURE OF THE SPIRIT--THE FLESH IN PURSUIT

 When Carrie came Hurstwood had been waiting many minutes. His bloodwas warm; his nerves wrought up. He was anxious to see the woman whohad stirred him so profoundly the night before. 

"Here you are, " he said, repressedly, feeling a spring in his limbs andan elation which was tragic in itself. 

"Yes, " said Carrie. 

They walked on as if bound for some objective point, while Hurstwooddrank in the radiance of her presence. The rustle of her pretty skirtwas like music to him. 

"Are you satisfied?" he asked, thinking of how well she did the nightbefore. 

"Are you?"

He tightened his fingers as he saw the smile she gave him. 

"It was wonderful. "

Carrie laughed ecstatically. 

"That was one of the best things I've seen in a long time, " he added. 

He was dwelling on her attractiveness as he had felt it the eveningbefore, and mingling it with the feeling her presence inspired now. 

Carrie was dwelling in the atmosphere which this man created for her. Already she was enlivened and suffused with a glow. She felt hisdrawing toward her in every sound of his voice. 

"Those were such nice flowers you sent me, " she said, after a moment ortwo. "They were beautiful. "

"Glad you liked them, " he answered, simply. 

He was thinking all the time that the subject of his desire was beingdelayed. He was anxious to turn the talk to his own feelings. All wasripe for it. His Carrie was beside him. He wanted to plunge in andexpostulate with her, and yet he found himself fishing for words andfeeling for a way. 

"You got home all right, " he said, gloomily, of a sudden, his tunemodifying itself to one of self-commiseration. 

"Yes, " said Carrie, easily. 

He looked at her steadily for a moment, slowing his pace and fixing herwith his eye. 

She felt the flood of feeling. 

"How about me?" he asked. 

This confused Carrie considerably, for she realized the floodgates wereopen. She didn't know exactly what to answer. "I don't know, " sheanswered. 

He took his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, and then let itgo. He stopped by the walk side and kicked the grass with his toe. Hesearched her face with a tender, appealing glance. 

"Won't you come away from him?" he asked, intensely. 

"I don't know, " returned Carrie, still illogically drifting and findingnothing at which to catch. 

As a matter of fact, she was in a most hopeless quandary. Here was aman whom she thoroughly liked, who exercised an influence over her, sufficient almost to delude her into the belief that she was possessedof a lively passion for him. She was still the victim of his keeneyes, his suave manners, his fine clothes. She looked and saw beforeher a man who was most gracious and sympathetic, who leaned toward herwith a feeling that was a delight to observe. She could not resist theglow of his temperament, the light of his eye. She could hardly keepfrom feeling what he felt. 

And yet she was not without thoughts which were disturbing. What didhe 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 hereyes were lighted with a tender glow, she was asking herself if Drouethad told him they were not married. There was never anything at allconvincing about what Drouet said. 

And yet she was not grieved at Hurstwood's love. No strain ofbitterness was in it for her, whatever he knew. He was evidentlysincere. His passion was real and warm. There was power in what hesaid. What should she do? She went on thinking this, answeringvaguely, languishing affectionately, and altogether drifting, until shewas on a borderless sea of speculation. 

"Why don't you come away?" he said, tenderly. "I will arrange for youwhatever--"

"Oh, don't, " said Carrie. 

"Don't what?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

There was a look of confusion and pain in her face. She was wonderingwhy that miserable thought must be brought in. She was struck as by ablade with the miserable provision which was outside the pale ofmarriage. 

He himself realized that it was a wretched thing to have dragged in. He wanted to weigh the effects of it, and yet he could not see. Hewent beating on, flushed by her presence, clearly awakened, intenselyenlisted in his plan. 

"Won't you come?" he said, beginning over and with a more reverentfeeling. "You know I can't do without you--you know it-it can't go onthis way--can it?"

"I know, " said Carrie. 

"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 stayaway from me, do you?"

She shook her head as if in deep thought. "Then why not settle thewhole thing, once and for all?"

"I don't know, " said Carrie. 

"Don't know! Ah, Carrie, what makes you say that? Don't torment me. Beserious. "

"I am, " said Carrie, softly. 

"You can't be, dearest, and say that. Not when you know how I loveyou. Look at last night. "

His manner as he said this was the most quiet imaginable. His face andbody retained utter composure. Only his eyes moved, and they flashed asubtle, dissolving fire. In them the whole intensity of the man'snature was distilling itself. 

Carrie made no answer. 

"How can you act this way, dearest?" he inquired, after a time. "Youlove me, don't you?"

He turned on her such a storm of feeling that she was overwhelmed. Forthe moment all doubts were cleared away. 

"Yes, " she answered, frankly and tenderly. 

"Well, then you'll come, won't you--come to-night?"

Carrie shook her head in spite of her distress. 

"I can't wait any longer, " urged Hurstwood. "If that is too soon, comeSaturday. "

"When will we be married?" she asked, diffidently, forgetting in herdifficult situation that she had hoped he took her to be Drouet's wife. 

The manager started, hit as he was by a problem which was moredifficult than hers. He gave no sign of the thoughts that flashed likemessages to his mind. 

"Any time you say, " he said, with ease, refusing to discolor hispresent delight with this miserable problem. 

"Saturday?" asked Carrie. 

He nodded his head. 

"Well, if you will marry me then, " she said, "I'll go. "

The manager looked at his lovely prize, so beautiful, so winsome, sodifficult to be won, and made strange resolutions. His passion hadgotten to that stage now where it was no longer colored with reason. He did not trouble over little barriers of this sort in the face of somuch loveliness. He would accept the situation with all itsdifficulties; he would not try to answer the objections which coldtruth thrust upon him. He would promise anything, everything, andtrust 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 itcost all honesty of statement, all abandonment of truth. 

Carrie looked at him tenderly. She could have laid her head upon hisshoulder, so delightful did it all seem. "Well, " she said, "I'll tryand get ready then. "

Hurstwood looked into her pretty face, crossed with little shadows ofwonder and misgiving, and thought he had never seen anything morelovely. 

"I'll see you again to-morrow, " he said, joyously, "and we'll talk overthe plans. "

He walked on with her, elated beyond words, so delightful had been theresult. 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 beganto realize that the meeting must come to an end, so exacting is theworld. 

"To-morrow, " he said at parting, a gayety of manner adding wonderfullyto his brave demeanor. 

"Yes, " said Carrie, tripping elatedly away. 

There had been so much enthusiasm engendered that she was believingherself deeply in love. She sighed as she thought of her handsomeadorer. Yes, she would get ready by Saturday. She would go, and theywould be happy. 

Chapter XXIITHE BLAZE OF THE TINDER--FLESH WARS WITH THE FLESH

 The misfortune of the Hurstwood household was due to the fact thatjealousy, having been born of love, did not perish with it. Mrs. Hurstwood retained this in such form that subsequent influences couldtransform it into hate. Hurstwood was still worthy, in a physicalsense, of the affection his wife had once bestowed upon him, but in asocial sense he fell short. With his regard died his power to beattentive to her, and this, to a woman, is much greater than outrightcrime toward another. Our self-love dictates our appreciation of thegood or evil in another. In Mrs. Hurstwood it discolored the very hueof her husband's indifferent nature. She saw design in deeds andphrases which sprung only from a faded appreciation of her presence. 

As a consequence, she was resentful and suspicious. The jealousy thatprompted her to observe every falling away from the little amenities ofthe married relation on his part served to give her notice of the airygrace with which he still took the world. She could see from thescrupulous care which he exercised in the matter of his personalappearance that his interest in life had abated not a jot. Everymotion, every glance had something in it of the pleasure he felt inCarrie, of the zest this new pursuit of pleasure lent to his days. Mrs. Hurstwood felt something, sniffing change, as animals do danger, afar off. 

This feeling was strengthened by actions of a direct and more potentnature on the part of Hurstwood. We have seen with what irritation heshirked those little duties which no longer contained any amusement ofsatisfaction for him, and the open snarls with which, more recently, heresented her irritating goads. These little rows were reallyprecipitated by an atmosphere which was surcharged with dissension. That it would shower, with a sky so full of blackening thunderclouds, would scarcely be thought worthy of comment. Thus, after leaving thebreakfast table this morning, raging inwardly at his blank declarationof indifference at her plans, Mrs. Hurstwood encountered Jessica in herdressing-room, very leisurely arranging her hair. Hurstwood hadalready left the house. 

"I wish you wouldn't be so late coming down to breakfast, " she said, addressing Jessica, while making for her crochet basket. "Now here thethings are quite cold, and you haven't eaten. "

Her natural composure was sadly ruffled, and Jessica was doomed to feelthe fag end of the storm. 

"I'm not hungry, " she answered. 

"Then why don't you say so, and let the girl put away the things, instead of keeping her waiting all morning?"

"She doesn't mind, " answered Jessica, coolly. 

"Well, I do, if she doesn't, " returned the mother, "and, anyhow, Idon't like you to talk that way to me. You're too young to put on suchan air with your mother. "

"Oh, mamma, don't row, "; answered Jessica. "What's the matter thismorning, anyway?"

"Nothing's the matter, and I'm not rowing. You mustn't think because Iindulge you in some things that you can keep everybody waiting. Iwon't have it. "

"I'm not keeping anybody waiting, " returned Jessica, sharply, stirredout of a cynical indifference to a sharp defense. "I said I wasn'thungry. I don't want any breakfast. "

"Mind how you address me, missy. I'll not have it. Hear me now; I'llnot have it!"

Jessica heard this last while walking out of the room, with a toss ofher head and a flick of her pretty skirts indicative of theindependence and indifference she felt. She did not propose to bequarreled with. 

Such little arguments were all too frequent, the result of a growth ofnatures which were largely independent and selfish. George, Jr. , manifested even greater touchiness and exaggeration in the matter ofhis individual rights, and attempted to make all feel that he was a manwith a man's privileges--an assumption which, of all things, is mostgroundless and pointless in a youth of nineteen. 

Hurstwood was a man of authority and some fine feeling, and itirritated him excessively to find himself surrounded more and more by aworld upon which he had no hold, and of which he had a lesseningunderstanding. 

Now, when such little things, such as the proposed earlier start toWaukesha, came up, they made clear to him his position. He was beingmade to follow, was not leading. When, in addition, a sharp temper wasmanifested, and to the process of shouldering him out of his authoritywas added a rousing intellectual kick, such as a sneer or a cynicallaugh, he was unable to keep his temper. He flew into hardly repressedpassion, and wished himself clear of the whole household. It seemed amost irritating drag upon all his desires and opportunities. 

For all this, he still retained the semblance of leadership andcontrol, even though his wife was straining to revolt. Her display oftemper and open assertion of opposition were based upon nothing morethan the feeling that she could do it. She had no special evidencewherewith to justify herself--the knowledge of something which wouldgive her both authority and excuse. The latter was all that waslacking, however, to give a solid foundation to what, in a way, seemedgroundless discontent. The clear proof of one overt deed was the coldbreath needed to convert the lowering clouds of suspicion into a rainof wrath. 

An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurstwood had come. DoctorBeale, the handsome resident physician of the neighborhood, met Mrs. Hurstwood at her own doorstep some days after Hurstwood and Carrie hadtaken the drive west on Washington Boulevard. Dr. Beale, coming easton the same drive, had recognized Hurstwood, but not before he wasquite past him. He was not so sure of Carrie--did not know whether itwas Hurstwood's wife or daughter. 

"You don't speak to your friends when you meet them out driving, doyou?" he said, jocosely, to Mrs. Hurstwood. 

"If I see them, I do. Where was I?"

"On Washington Boulevard. " he answered, expecting her eye to light withimmediate remembrance. 

She shook her head. 

"Yes, out near Hoyne Avenue. You were with your husband. "

"I guess you're mistaken, " she answered. Then, remembering herhusband's part in the affair, she immediately fell a prey to a host ofyoung suspicions, of which, however, she gave no sign. 

"I know I saw your husband, " he went on. "I wasn't so sure about you. Perhaps it was your daughter. "

"Perhaps it was, " said Mrs. Hurstwood, knowing full well that such wasnot the case, as Jessica had been her companion for weeks. She hadrecovered herself sufficiently to wish to know more of the details. 

"Was it in the afternoon?" she asked, artfully, assuming an air ofacquaintanceship with the matter. 

"Yes, about two or three. "

"It must have been Jessica, " said Mrs. Hurstwood, not wishing to seemto attach any importance to the incident. 

The physician had a thought or two of his own, but dismissed the matteras worthy of no further discussion on his part at least. 

Mrs. Hurstwood gave this bit of information considerable thought duringthe next few hours, and even days. She took it for granted that thedoctor had really seen her husband, and that he had been riding, mostlikely, with some other woman, after announcing himself as BUSY to her. As a consequence, she recalled, with rising feeling, how often he hadrefused to go to places with her, to share in little visits, or, indeed, take part in any of the social amenities which furnished thediversion of her existence. He had been seen at the theatre withpeople whom he called Moy's friends; now he was seen driving, and, mostlikely, would have an excuse for that. Perhaps there were others ofwhom she did not hear, or why should he be so busy, so indifferent, oflate? In the last six weeks he had become strangely irritable--strangely satisfied to pick up and go out, whether things were right orwrong in the house. Why?

She recalled, with more subtle emotions, that he did not look at hernow 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 oldand uninteresting. He saw her wrinkles, perhaps. She was fading, while he was still preening himself in his elegance and youth. He wasstill an interested factor in the merry-makings of the world, whileshe--but she did not pursue the thought. She only found the wholesituation bitter, and hated him for it thoroughly. 

Nothing came of this incident at the time, for the truth is it did notseem conclusive enough to warrant any discussion. Only the atmosphereof distrust and ill-feeling was strengthened, precipitating every nowand then little sprinklings of irritable conversation, enlivened byflashes of wrath. The matter of the Waukesha outing was merely acontinuation of other things of the same nature. 

The day after Carrie's appearance on the Avery stage, Mrs. Hurstwoodvisited the races with Jessica and a youth of her acquaintance, Mr. Bart Taylor, the son of the owner of a local house-furnishingestablishment. They had driven out early, and, as it chanced, encountered several friends of Hurstwood, all Elks, and two of whom hadattended the performance the evening before. A thousand chances thesubject of the performance had never been brought up had Jessica notbeen so engaged by the attentions of her young companion, who usurpedas much time as possible. This left Mrs. Hurstwood in the mood toextend the perfunctory greetings of some who knew her into shortconversations, and the short conversations of friends into long ones. It was from one who meant but to greet her perfunctorily that thisinteresting intelligence came. 

"I see, " said this individual, who wore sporting clothes of the mostattractive pattern, and had a field-glass strung over his shoulder, "that you did not get over to our little entertainment last evening. "

"No?" said Mrs. Hurstwood, inquiringly, and wondering why he should beusing the tone he did in noting the fact that she had not been tosomething she knew nothing about. It was on her lips to say, "What wasit?" when he added, "I saw your husband. "

Her wonder was at once replaced by the more subtle quality ofsuspicion. 

"Yes, " she said, cautiously, "was it pleasant? He did not tell me muchabout it. "

"Very. Really one of the best private theatricals I ever attended. There was one actress who surprised us all. "

"Indeed, " said Mrs. Hurstwood. 

"It's too bad you couldn't have been there, really. I was sorry tohear you weren't feeling well. "

Feeling well! Mrs. Hurstwood could have echoed the words after himopen-mouthed. As it was, she extricated herself from her mingledimpulse to deny and question, and said, almost raspingly:

"Yes, it is too bad. "

"Looks like there will be quite a crowd here to-day, doesn't it?" theacquaintance observed, drifting off upon another topic. 

The manager's wife would have questioned farther, but she saw noopportunity. She was for the moment wholly at sea, anxious to thinkfor herself, and wondering what new deception was this which caused himto give out that she was ill when she was not. Another case of hercompany not wanted, and excuses being made. She resolved to find outmore. 

"Were you at the performance last evening?" she asked of the next ofHurstwood's friends who greeted her as she sat in her box. 

"Yes. You didn't get around. "

"No, " she answered, "I was not feeling very well. "

"So your husband told me, " he answered. "Well, it was really veryenjoyable. Turned out much better than I expected. "

"Were there many there?"

"The house was full. It was quite an Elk night. I saw quite a numberof your friends--Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Collins. "

"Quite a social gathering. "

"Indeed it was. My wife enjoyed it very much. "

Mrs. Hurstwood bit her lip. 

"So, " she thought, "that's the way he does. Tells my friends I am sickand cannot come. "

She wondered what could induce him to go alone. There was somethingback of this. She rummaged her brain for a reason. 

By evening, when Hurstwood reached home, she had brooded herself into astate of sullen desire for explanation and revenge. She wanted to knowwhat this peculiar action of his imported. She was certain there wasmore behind it all than what she had heard, and evil curiosity mingledwell with distrust and the remnants of her wrath of the morning. She, impending disaster itself, walked about with gathered shadow at theeyes and the rudimentary muscles of savagery fixing the hard lines ofher mouth. 

On the other hand, as we may well believe, the manager came home in thesunniest mood. His conversation and agreement with Carrie had raisedhis spirits until he was in the frame of mind of one who singsjoyously. He was proud of himself, proud of his success, proud ofCarrie. He could have been genial to all the world, and he bore nogrudge against his wife. He meant to be pleasant, to forget herpresence, to live in the atmosphere of youth and pleasure which hadbeen restored to him. 

So now, the house, to his mind, had a most pleasing and comfortableappearance. In the hall he found an evening paper, laid there by themaid and forgotten by Mrs. Hurstwood. In the dining-room the table wasclean laid with linen and napery and shiny with glasses and decoratedchina. Through an open door he saw into the kitchen, where the firewas 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 doghe had recently purchased, and in the parlor Jessica was playing at thepiano, the sounds of a merry waltz filling every nook and corner of thecomfortable home. Every one, like himself, seemed to have regained hisgood spirits, to be in sympathy with youth and beauty, to be inclinedto joy and merry-making. He felt as if he could say a good word allaround himself, and took a most genial glance at the spread table andpolished sideboard before going upstairs to read his paper in thecomfortable armchair of the sitting-room which looked through the openwindows into the street. When he entered there, however, he found hiswife brushing her hair and musing to herself the while. 

He came lightly in, thinking to smooth over any feeling that mightstill exist by a kindly word and a ready promise, but Mrs. Hurstwoodsaid nothing. He seated himself in the large chair, stirred lightly inmaking himself comfortable, opened his paper, and began to read. In afew moments he was smiling merrily over a very comical account of abaseball game which had taken place between the Chicago and Detroitteams. 

The while he was doing this Mrs. Hurstwood was observing him casuallythrough the medium of the mirror which was before her. She noticed hispleasant and contented manner, his airy grace and smiling humor, and itmerely aggravated her the more. She wondered how he could think tocarry himself so in her presence after the cynicism, indifference, andneglect he had heretofore manifested and would continue to manifest solong as she would endure it. She thought how she should like to tellhim--what stress and emphasis she would lend her assertions, how sheshould drive over this whole affair until satisfaction should berendered her. Indeed, the shining sword of her wrath was but weaklysuspended by a thread of thought. 

In the meanwhile Hurstwood encountered a humorous item concerning astranger who had arrived in the city and became entangled with a bunco-steerer. It amused him immensely, and at last he stirred and chuckledto himself. He wished that he might enlist his wife's attention andread it to her. 

"Ha, ha, " he exclaimed softly, as if to himself, "that's funny. "

Mrs. Hurstwood kept on arranging her hair, not so much as deigning aglance. 

He stirred again and went on to another subject. At last he felt as ifhis good-humor must find some outlet. Julia was probably still out ofhumor over that affair of this morning, but that could easily bestraightened. As a matter of fact, she was in the wrong, but he didn'tcare. She could go to Waukesha right away if she wanted to. Thesooner the better. He would tell her that as soon as he got a chance, and the whole thing would blow over. 

"Did you notice, " he said, at last, breaking forth concerning anotheritem which he had found, "that they have entered suit to compel theIllinois Central to get off the lake front, Julia?" he asked. 

She could scarcely force herself to answer, but managed to say "No, "sharply. 

Hurstwood pricked up his ears. There was a note in her voice whichvibrated keenly. 

"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, listeningmentally for the little sounds which should show him what was on foot. 

As a matter of fact, no man as clever as Hurstwood--as observant andsensitive to atmospheres of many sorts, particularly upon his own planeof thought--would have made the mistake which he did in regard to hiswife, wrought up as she was, had he not been occupied mentally with avery different train of thought. Had not the influence of Carrie'sregard for him, the elation which her promise aroused in him, lastedover, he would not have seen the house in so pleasant a mood. It wasnot extraordinarily bright and merry this evening. He was merely verymuch mistaken, and would have been much more fitted to cope with it hadhe come home in his normal state. 

After he had studied his paper a few moments longer, he felt that heought to modify matters in some way or other. Evidently his wife wasnot going to patch up peace at a word. So he said:

"Where did George get the dog he has there in the yard?"

"I don't know, " she snapped. 

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 andagreeable, and by a few questions bring around a mild understanding ofsome sort. 

"Why do you feel so bad about that affair of this morning? he said, atlast. "We needn't quarrel about that. You know you can go to Waukeshaif you want to. "

"So you can stay here and trifle around with some one else?" sheexclaimed, turning to him a determined countenance upon which was drawna sharp and wrathful sneer. 

He stopped as if slapped in the face. In an instant his persuasive, conciliatory manner fled. He was on the defensive at a wink andpuzzled for a word to reply. 

"What do you mean?" he said at last, straightening himself and gazingat the cold, determined figure before him, who paid no attention, butwent on arranging herself before the mirror. 

"You know what I mean, " she said, finally, as if there were a world ofinformation which she held in reserve--which she did not need to tell. 

"Well, I don't, " he said, stubbornly, yet nervous and alert for whatshould come next. The finality of the woman's manner took away hisfeeling of superiority in battle. 

She made no answer. 

"Hmph!" he murmured, with a movement of his head to one side. It wasthe weakest thing he had ever done. It was totally unassured. 

Mrs. Hurstwood noticed the lack of color in it. She turned upon him, animal-like, able to strike an effectual second blow. 

"I want the Waukesha money to-morrow morning, " she said. 

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 anddetermined to wrest all control from him. He felt that all hisresources could not defend him. He must attack. 

"What do you mean?" he said, jumping up. "You want! I'd like to knowwhat's got into you to-night. "

"Nothing's GOT into me, " she said, flaming. "I want that money. Youcan do your swaggering afterwards. "

"Swaggering, eh! What! You'll get nothing from me. What do you mean byyour insinuations, anyhow?"

"Where were you last night?" she answered. The words were hot as theycame. "Who were you driving with on Washington Boulevard? Who were youwith at the theatre when George saw you? Do you think I'm a fool to beduped by you? Do you think I'll sit at home here and take your 'toobusys' and 'can't come, ' while you parade around and make out that I'munable to come? I want you to know that lordly airs have come to an endso far as I am concerned. You can't dictate to me nor my children. I'm through with you entirely. "

"It's a lie, " he said, driven to a corner and knowing no other excuse. 

"Lie, eh!" she said, fiercely, but with returning reserve; "you maycall it a lie if you want to, but I know. "

"It's a lie, I tell you, " he said, in a low, sharp voice. "You've beensearching around for some cheap accusation for months and now you thinkyou 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 ofit, and you or any one else won't dictate to me--do you hear?"

He crept toward her with a light in his eye that was ominous. Somethingin the woman's cool, cynical, upper-handish manner, as if she werealready master, caused him to feel for the moment as if he couldstrangle her. 

She gazed at him--a pythoness in humor. 

"I'm not dictating to you, " she returned; "I'm telling you what Iwant. "

The answer was so cool, so rich in bravado, that somehow it took thewind out of his sails. He could not attack her, he could not ask herfor proofs. Somehow he felt evidence, law, the remembrance of all hisproperty which she held in her name, to be shining in her glance. Hewas like a vessel, powerful and dangerous, but rolling and flounderingwithout sail. 

"And I'm telling you, " he said in the end, slightly recovering himself, "what you'll not get. "

"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. "

It was a magnificent play, and had its effect. Hurstwood fell backbeaten. He knew now that he had more than mere bluff to contend with. He felt that he was face to face with a dull proposition. What to sayhe hardly knew. All the merriment had gone out of the day. He wasdisturbed, wretched, resentful. What should he do? "Do as you please, "he said, at last. "I'll have nothing more to do with you, " and out hestrode. 

Chapter XXIIIA SPIRIT IN TRAVAIL--ONE RUNG PUT BEHIND

 When Carrie reached her own room she had already fallen a prey tothose doubts and misgivings which are ever the result of a lack ofdecision. She could not persuade herself as to the advisability of herpromise, or that now, having given her word, she ought to keep it. Shewent over the whole ground in Hurstwood's absence, and discoveredlittle objections that had not occurred to her in the warmth of themanager's argument. She saw where she had put herself in a peculiarlight, namely, that of agreeing to marry when she was alreadysupposedly married. She remembered a few things Drouet had done, andnow that it came to walking away from him without a word, she felt asif she were doing wrong. Now, she was comfortably situated, and to onewho is more or less afraid of the world, this is an urgent matter, andone which puts up strange, uncanny arguments. "You do not know whatwill come. There are miserable things outside. People go a-begging. Women are wretched. You never can tell what will happen. Remember thetime you were hungry. Stick to what you have. "

Curiously, for all her leaning towards Hurstwood, he had not taken afirm hold on her understanding. She was listening, smiling, approving, and yet not finally agreeing. This was due to a lack of power on hispart, a lack of that majesty of passion that sweeps the mind from itsseat, fuses and melts all arguments and theories into a tangled mass, and destroys for the time being the reasoning power. This majesty ofpassion is possessed by nearly every man once in his life, but it isusually an attribute of youth and conduces to the first successfulmating. 

Hurstwood, being an older man, could scarcely be said to retain thefire of youth, though he did possess a passion warm and unreasoning. It was strong enough to induce the leaning toward him which, onCarrie's part, we have seen. She might have been said to be imaginingherself in love, when she was not. Women frequently do this. It flowsfrom the fact that in each exists a bias toward affection, a cravingfor the pleasure of being loved. The longing to be shielded, bettered, sympathized with, is one of the attributes of the sex. This, coupledwith sentiment and a natural tendency to emotion, often makes refusingdifficult. It persuades them that they are in love. 

Once at home, she changed her clothes and straightened the rooms forherself. In the matter of the arrangement of the furniture she nevertook the housemaid's opinion. That young woman invariably put one ofthe 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 absorbedwas she in her own thoughts. She worked about the room until Drouetput in appearance at five o'clock. The drummer was flushed and excitedand full of determination to know all about her relations withHurstwood. Nevertheless, after going over the subject in his mind thelivelong day, he was rather weary of it and wished it over with. Hedid not foresee serious consequences of any sort, and yet he ratherhesitated to begin. Carrie was sitting by the window when he came in, rocking and looking out. "Well, " she said innocently, weary of her ownmental discussion and wondering at his haste and ill-concealedexcitement, "what makes you hurry so?"

Drouet hesitated, now that he was in her presence, uncertain as to whatcourse to pursue. He was no diplomat. He could neither read nor see. 

"When did you get home?" he asked foolishly. 

"Oh, an hour or so ago. What makes you ask that?"

"You weren't here, " he said, "when I came back this morning, and Ithought you had gone out. "

"So I did, " said Carrie simply. "I went for a walk. "

Drouet looked at her wonderingly. For all his lack of dignity in suchmatters he did not know how to begin. He stared at her in the mostflagrant manner until at last she said:

"What makes you stare at me so? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, " he answered. "I was just thinking. "

"Just thinking what?" she returned smilingly, puzzled by his attitude. 

"Oh, nothing--nothing much. "

"Well, then, what makes you look so?"

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 thelittle toilet pieces which were nearest him. He hesitated to believethat the pretty woman before him was involved in anything sounsatisfactory to himself. He was very much inclined to feel that itwas all right, after all. Yet the knowledge imparted to him by thechambermaid was rankling in his mind. He wanted to plunge in with astraight remark of some sort, but he knew not what. 

"Where did you go this morning?" he finally asked weakly. 

"Why, I went for a walk, " said Carrie. 

"Sure you did?" he asked. 

"Yes, what makes you ask?"

She was beginning to see now that he knew something. Instantly shedrew herself into a more reserved position. Her cheeks blanchedslightly. 

"I thought maybe you didn't, " he said, beating about the bush in themost useless manner. 

Carrie gazed at him, and as she did so her ebbing courage halted. Shesaw that he himself was hesitating, and with a woman's intuitionrealized that there was no occasion for great alarm. 

"What makes you talk like that?" she asked, wrinkling her prettyforehead. "You act so funny to-night. "

"I feel funny, " he answered. They looked at one another for a moment, and then Drouet plunged desperately into his subject. 

"What's this about you and Hurstwood?" he asked. 

"Me and Hurstwood--what do you mean?"

"Didn't he come here a dozen times while I was away?"

"A dozen times, " repeated Carrie, guiltily. "No, but what do youmean?"

"Somebody said that you went out riding with him and that he came hereevery night. "

"No such thing, " answered Carrie. "It isn't true. Who told you that?"

She was flushing scarlet to the roots of her hair, but Drouet did notcatch the full hue of her face, owing to the modified light of theroom. He was regaining much confidence as Carrie defended herself withdenials. 

"Well, some one, " he said. "You're sure you didn't?"

"Certainly, " said Carrie. "You know how often he came. "

Drouet paused for a moment and thought. 

"I know what you told me, " he said finally. 

He moved nervously about, while Carrie looked at him confusedly. 

"Well, I know that I didn't tell you any such thing as that, " saidCarrie, recovering herself. 

"If I were you, " went on Drouet, ignoring her last remark, "I wouldn'thave anything to do with him. He's a married man, you know. "

"Who--who is?" said Carrie, stumbling at the word. 

"Why, Hurstwood, " said Drouet, noting the effect and feeling that hewas delivering a telling blow. 

"Hurstwood!" exclaimed Carrie, rising. Her face had changed severalshades since this announcement was made. She looked within and withoutherself in a half-dazed way. 

"Who told you this?" she asked, forgetting that her interest was out oforder and exceedingly incriminating. 

"Why, I know it. I've always known it, " said Drouet. 

Carrie was feeling about for a right thought. She was making a mostmiserable showing, and yet feelings were generating within her whichwere anything but crumbling cowardice. 

"I thought I told you, " he added. 

"No, you didn't, " she contradicted, suddenly recovering her voice. "You didn't do anything of the kind. "

Drouet listened to her in astonishment. This was something new. 

"I thought I did, " he said. 

Carrie looked around her very solemnly, and then went over to thewindow. 

"You oughtn't to have had anything to do with him, " said Drouet in aninjured tone, "after all I've done for you. "

"You, " said Carrie, "you! What have you done for me?"

Her little brain had been surging with contradictory feelings-shame atexposure, shame at Hurstwood's perfidy, anger at Drouet's deception, the mockery he had made at her. Now one clear idea came into her head. He was at fault. There was no doubt about it. Why did he bringHurstwood out--Hurstwood, a married man, and never say a word to her?Never mind now about Hurstwood's perfidy--why had he done this? Whyhadn't he warned her? There he stood now, guilty of this miserablebreach of confidence and talking about what he had done for her!

"Well, I like that, " exclaimed Drouet, little realizing the fire hisremark had generated. "I think I've done a good deal. "

"You have, eh?" she answered. "You've deceived me--that's what you'vedone. 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 shepressed her two little hands together tragically. 

"I don't see what that's got to do with it, " said the drummer quaintly. 

"No, " she answered, recovering herself and shutting her teeth. "No, ofcourse you don't see. There isn't anything you see. You couldn't havetold me in the first place, could you? You had to make me out wronguntil it was too late. Now you come sneaking around with yourinformation and your talk about what you have done. "

Drouet had never suspected this side of Carrie's nature. She was alivewith feeling, her eyes snapping, her lips quivering, her whole bodysensible of the injury she felt, and partaking of her wrath. 

"Who's sneaking?" he asked, mildly conscious of error on his part, butcertain that he was wronged. 

"You are, " stamped Carrie. "You're a horrid, conceited coward, that'swhat you are. If you had any sense of manhood in you, you wouldn'thave thought of doing any such thing. "

The drummer stared. 

"I'm not a coward, " he said. "What do you mean by going with othermen, anyway?"

"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 bringhim here? You told him yourself that he should come out here and takeme out. Now, after it's all over, you come and tell me that I oughtn'tto go with him and that he's a married man. "

She paused at the sound of the last two words and wrung her hands. Theknowledge of Hurstwood's perfidy wounded her like a knife. "Oh, " shesobbed, repressing herself wonderfully and keeping her eyes dry. "Oh, oh!"

"Well, I didn't think you'd be running around with him when I wasaway, " insisted Drouet. 

"Didn't think!" said Carrie, now angered to the core by the man'speculiar attitude. "Of course not. You thought only of what would beto 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 withyou at all. You can take your old things and keep them, " andunfastening a little pin he had given her, she flung it vigorously uponthe floor and began to move about as if to gather up the things whichbelonged to her. 

By this Drouet was not only irritated but fascinated the more. Helooked at her in amazement, and finally said:

"I don't see where your wrath comes in. I've got the right of thisthing. You oughtn't to have done anything that wasn't right after allI did for you. "

"What have you done for me?" asked Carrie blazing, her head thrown backand her lips parted. 

"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 youeverywhere you wanted to go. You've had as much as I've had, and moretoo. "

Carrie was not ungrateful, whatever else might be said of her. In sofar 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. 

"Did I ask you to?" she returned. 

"Well, I did it, " said Drouet, "and you took it. "

"You talk as though I had persuaded you, " answered Carrie. "You standthere 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 withthem. I'll not stay here another minute. "

"That's nice!" he answered, becoming angered now at the sense of hisown 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 alwaysthought it'd come out that way. "

He felt really hurt as he thought of his treatment, and looked as if hesaw no way of obtaining justice. 

"It's not so, " said Carrie, "and I'm not going with anybody else. Youhave been as miserable and inconsiderate as you can be. I hate you, Itell 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 youwouldn't talk that way. "

She had secured her hat and jacket and slipped the latter on over herlittle evening dress. Some wisps of wavy hair had loosened from thebands at the side of her head and were straggling over her hot, redcheeks. She was angry, mortified, grief-stricken. Her large eyes werefull of the anguish of tears, but her lids were not yet wet. She wasdistracted and uncertain, deciding and doing things without an aim orconclusion, and she had not the slightest conception of how the wholedifficulty would end. 

"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 oryou wouldn't act like that. I don't want the old rooms. You needn'tpull out for me. You can have them for all I care, but b'George, youhaven't done me right. "

"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. "

"Aw, I haven't anything of the kind, " he answered. 

Carrie walked over to the door. 

"Where are you going?" he said, stepping over and heading her off. 

"Let me out, " she said. 

"Where are you going?" he repeated. 

He was, above all, sympathetic, and the sight of Carrie wandering out, he knew not where, affected him, despite his grievance. 

Carrie merely pulled at the door. 

The strain of the situation was too much for her, however. She madeone more vain effort and then burst into tears. 

"Now, be reasonable, Cad, " said Drouet gently. "What do you want torush out for this way? You haven't any place to go. Why not stay herenow and be quiet? I'll not bother you. I don't want to stay here anylonger. "

Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. She was soovercome she could not speak. 

"Be reasonable now, " he said. "I don't want to hold you. You can goif you want to, but why don't you think it over? Lord knows, I don'twant to stop you. "

He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, under theinfluence 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 shakenloose from the little mooring of logic that it had. She was stirred bythis thought, angered by that--her own injustice, Hurstwood's, Drouet's, their respective qualities of kindness and favor, the threatof the world outside, in which she had failed once before, theimpossibility of this state inside, where the chambers were no longerjustly hers, the effect of the argument upon her nerves, all combinedto make her a mass of jangling fibers--an anchorless, storm-beatenlittle craft which could do absolutely nothing but drift. 

"Say, " said Drouet, coming over to her after a few moments, with a newidea, and putting his hand upon her. 

"Don't!" said Carrie, drawing away, but not removing her handkerchieffrom her eyes. "Never mind about this quarrel now. Let it go. Youstay here until the month's out, anyhow, and then you can tell betterwhat 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 getout. "

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 notabated, and it made her suffer a pang of regret. She was in a mosthelpless plight. 

As for Drouet, his attitude had been that of the jealous lover. Now hisfeelings 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 herfeel her error. 

"Will you?" he urged. 

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

This left the matter as open as before, but it was something. Itlooked as if the quarrel would blow over, if they could only get someway of talking to one another. Carrie was ashamed, and Drouetaggrieved. He pretended to take up the task of packing some things ina valise. 

Now, as Carrie watched him out of the corner of her eye, certain soundthoughts came into her head. He had erred, true, but what had shedone? He was kindly and good-natured for all his egotism. Throughoutthis argument he had said nothing very harsh. On the other hand, therewas Hurstwood--a greater deceiver than he. He had pretended all thisaffection, 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 nothingmore in that quarter. She would see Hurstwood no more. She wouldwrite him and let him know what she thought. Thereupon what would shedo? Here were these rooms. Here was Drouet, pleading for her toremain. Evidently things could go on here somewhat as before, if allwere arranged. It would be better than the street, without a place tolay her head. 

All this she thought of as Drouet rummaged the drawers for collars andlabored long and painstakingly at finding a shirt stud. He was in nohurry to rush this matter. He felt an attraction to Carrie which wouldnot down. He could not think that the thing would end by his walkingout of the room. There must be some way round, some way to make herown up that he was right and she was wrong--to patch up a peace andshut out Hurstwood for ever. Mercy, how he turned at the man'sshameless duplicity. 

"Do you think, " he said, after a few moments' silence, "that you'll tryand 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 thatline. "

She made no answer to this. 

"Don't go and try to knock around now without any money. Let me helpyou, " 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 toblame. "

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

"Yes, you were, too, " said Carrie. "You shouldn't have ever told mesuch 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 thepeace 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 letme know where I stand, at least. "

"I won't, " said Carrie, feeling no refuge but in anger. "Whatever hashappened is your own fault. "

"Then you do care for him?" said Drouet, stopping completely andexperiencing a rush of feeling. 

"Oh, stop!" said Carrie. "Well, I'll not be made a fool of, " exclaimedDrouet. "You may trifle around with him if you want to, but you can'tlead me. You can tell me or not, just as you want to, but I won't foolany longer!"

He shoved the last few remaining things he had laid out into his valiseand snapped it with a vengeance. Then he grabbed his coat, which hehad 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 hereached the door. "I'm no sucker, " and with that he opened it with ajerk and closed it equally vigorously. 

Carrie listened at her window view, more astonished than anything elseat this sudden rise of passion in the drummer. She could hardlybelieve her senses--so good-natured and tractable had he invariablybeen. It was not for her to see the wellspring of human passion. Areal 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. Toooften jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds. 

Chapter XXIVASHES OF TINDER--A FACE AT THE WINDOW

 That night Hurstwood remained down town entirely, going to the PalmerHouse for a bed after his work was through. He was in a fevered stateof mind, owing to the blight his wife's action threatened to cast uponhis entire future. While he was not sure how much significance mightbe attached to the threat she had made, he was sure that her attitude, if long continued, would cause him no end of trouble. She wasdetermined, and had worsted him in a very important contest. How wouldit be from now on? He walked the floor of his little office, and laterthat of his room, putting one thing and another together to no avail. 

Mrs. Hurstwood, on the contrary, had decided not to lose her advantageby inaction. Now that she had practically cowed him, she would followup her work with demands, the acknowledgment of which would make herword LAW in the future. He would have to pay her the money which shewould now regularly demand or there would be trouble. It did notmatter what he did. She really did not care whether he came home anymore or not. The household would move along much more pleasantlywithout him, and she could do as she wished without consulting any one. Now she proposed to consult a lawyer and hire a detective. She wouldfind out at once just what advantages she could gain. 

Hurstwood walked the floor, mentally arranging the chief points of hissituation. "She has that property in her name, " he kept saying tohimself. "What a fool trick that was. Curse it! What a fool move thatwas. "

He also thought of his managerial position. "If she raises a row nowI'll lose this thing. They won't have me around if my name gets in thepapers. My friends, too!" He grew more angry as he thought of the talkany action on her part would create. How would the papers talk aboutit? Every man he knew would be wondering. He would have to explain anddeny and make a general mark of himself. Then Moy would come andconfer 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 loopholeleft. 

Through all this thoughts of Carrie flashed upon him, and theapproaching affair of Saturday. Tangled as all his matters were, hedid not worry over that. It was the one pleasing thing in this wholerout of trouble. He could arrange that satisfactorily, for Carriewould be glad to wait, if necessary. He would see how things turned outto-morrow, and then he would talk to her. They were going to meet asusual. He saw only her pretty face and neat figure and wondered whylife was not arranged so that such joy as he found with her could besteadily maintained. How much more pleasant it would be. Then hewould take up his wife's threat again, and the wrinkles and moisturewould return. 

In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened his mail, butthere was nothing in it outside the ordinary run. For some reason hefelt as if something might come that way, and was relieved when all theenvelopes had been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began tofeel the appetite that had been wanting before he had reached theoffice, and decided before going out to the park to meet Carrie to dropin at the Grand Pacific and have a pot of coffee and some rolls. Whilethe danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialized, and withhim no news was good news. If he could only get plenty of time tothink, perhaps something would turn up. Surely, surely, this thingwould not drift along to catastrophe and he not find a way out. 

His spirits fell, however, when, upon reaching the park, he waited andwaited and Carrie did not come. He held his favorite post for an houror more, then arose and began to walk about restlessly. Couldsomething have happened out there to keep her away? Could she have beenreached by his wife? Surely not. So little did he consider Drouet thatit never once occurred to him to worry about his finding out. He grewrestless 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 letternotifying him had come. He would get one to-day. It would probably beon 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 Madisoncar. To add to his distress, the bright blue sky became overcast withlittle fleecy clouds which shut out the sun. The wind veered to theeast, and by the time he reached his office it was threatening todrizzle 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 hisstars that he did not have to confront that proposition just now whenhe needed to think so much. He walked the floor again, pretending tobe in an ordinary mood, but secretly troubled beyond the expression ofwords. 

At one-thirty he went to Rector's for lunch, and when he returned amessenger was waiting for him. He looked at the little chap with afeeling of doubt. 

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

Hurstwood recognized his wife's writing. He tore it open and readwithout a show of feeling. It began in the most formal manner and wassharply and coldly worded throughout. 

"I want you to send the money I asked for at once. I need it to carryout my plans. You can stay away if you want to. It doesn't matter inthe least. But I must have some money. So don't delay, but send it bythe boy. "

When he had finished it, he stood holding it in his hands. Theaudacity of the thing took his breath. It roused his ire also-thedeepest element of revolt in him. His first impulse was to write butfour words in reply--"Go to the devil!"--but he compromised by tellingthe boy that there would be no reply. Then he sat down in his chair andgazed without seeing, contemplating the result of his work. What wouldshe do about that? The confounded wretch! Was she going to try tobulldoze him into submission? He would go up there and have it out withher, that's what he would do. She was carrying things with too high ahand. These were his first thoughts. 

Later, however, his old discretion asserted itself. Something had tobe done. A climax was near and she would not sit idle. He knew herwell enough to know that when she had decided upon a plan she wouldfollow 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 ithot for her if she causes me trouble. I'll make her change her tone ifI have to use force to do it!"

He arose from his chair and went and looked out into the street. Thelong drizzle had begun. Pedestrians had turned up collars, andtrousers at the bottom. Hands were hidden in the pockets of theumbrella less; umbrellas were up. The street looked like a sea ofround black cloth roofs, twisting, bobbing, moving. Trucks and vanswere rattling in a noisy line and everywhere men were shieldingthemselves as best they could. He scarcely noticed the picture. Hewas forever confronting his wife, demanding of her to change herattitude toward him before he worked her bodily harm. 

At four o'clock another note came, which simply said that if the moneywas not forthcoming that evening the matter would be laid beforeFitzgerald and Moy on the morrow, and other steps would be taken to getit. 

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 upthere and have a talk with her, and that at once. 

He put on his hat and looked around for his umbrella. He would havesome arrangement of this thing. 

He called a cab and was driven through the dreary rain to the NorthSide. On the way his temper cooled as he thought of the details of thecase. What did she know? What had she done? Maybe she'd got hold ofCarrie, who knows--or--or Drouet. Perhaps she really had evidence, andwas prepared to fell him as a man does another from secret ambush. Shewas shrewd. Why should she taunt him this way unless she had goodgrounds?

He began to wish that he had compromised in some way or other-that hehad sent the money. Perhaps he could do it up here. He would go inand see, anyhow. He would have no row. By the time he reached his ownstreet he was keenly alive to the difficulties of his situation andwished over and over that some solution would offer itself, that hecould see his way out. He alighted and went up the steps to the frontdoor, but it was with a nervous palpitation of the heart. He pulledout 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. Hejangled 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 thekitchen windows were down. What could it mean? He rang the bell andthen waited. Finally, seeing that no one was coming, he turned andwent back to his cab. 

"I guess they've gone out, " he said apologetically to the individualwho 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 moodilyinto the cab, relieved and distressed. 

So this was the game, was it? Shut him out and make him pay. Well, bythe Lord, that did beat all!

Chapter XXVASHES OF TINDER--THE LOOSING OF STAYS

 When Hurstwood got back to his office again he was in a greaterquandary than ever. Lord, Lord, he thought, what had he got into? Howcould things have taken such a violent turn, and so quickly? He couldhardly realize how it had all come about. It seemed a monstrous, unnatural, unwarranted condition which had suddenly descended upon himwithout his let or hindrance. 

Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. What could be thetrouble in that quarter? No letter had come, no word of any kind, andyet here it was late in the evening and she had agreed to meet him thatmorning. To-morrow they were to have met and gone off--where? He sawthat in the excitement of recent events he had not formulated a planupon that score. He was desperately in love, and would have takengreat chances to win her under ordinary circumstances, but now--nowwhat? Supposing she had found out something? Supposing she, too, wrotehim and told him that she knew all--that she would have nothing more todo with him? It would be just like this to happen as things were goingnow. Meanwhile he had not sent the money. 

He strolled up and down the polished floor of the resort, his hands inhis pockets, his brow wrinkled, his mouth set. He was getting somevague comfort out of a good cigar, but it was no panacea for the illwhich affected him. Every once in a while he would clinch his fingersand tap his foot--signs of the stirring mental process he wasundergoing. His whole nature was vigorously and powerfully shaken up, and he was finding what limits the mind has to endurance. He drankmore brandy and soda than he had any evening in months. He wasaltogether a fine example of great mental perturbation. 

For all his study nothing came of the evening except this--he sent themoney. It was with great opposition, after two or three hours of themost urgent mental affirmation and denial, that at last he got anenvelope, 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 boyturned 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 haddone it. There was no use speculating over that. He was beaten forto-night and he might just as well make the best of it. But, oh, thewretchedness of being forced this way! He could see her meeting the boyat the door and smiling sardonically. She would take the envelope andknow that she had triumphed. If he only had that letter back hewouldn't send it. He breathed heavily and wiped the moisture from hisface. 

For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with a few friends whowere drinking. He tried to get the interest of things about him, butit was not to be. All the time his thoughts would run out to his homeand see the scene being therein enacted. All the time he was wonderingwhat she would say when the boy handed her the envelope. 

In about an hour and three-quarters the boy returned. He had evidentlydelivered the package, for, as he came up, he made no sign of takinganything 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 onbrooding over his situation until midnight, when he repaired again tothe Palmer House. He wondered what the morning would bring forth, andslept anything but soundly upon it. Next day he went again to theoffice and opened his mail, suspicious and hopeful of its contents. Noword from Carrie. Nothing from his wife, which was pleasant. 

The fact that he had sent the money and that she had received it workedto the ease of his mind, for, as the thought that he had done itreceded, his chagrin at it grew less and his hope of peace more. Hefancied, as he sat at his desk, that nothing would be done for a weekor two. Meanwhile, he would have time to think. 

This process of THINKING began by a reversion to Carrie and thearrangement by which he was to get her away from Drouet. How aboutthat now? His pain at her failure to meet or write him rapidlyincreased as he devoted himself to this subject. He decided to writeher care of the West Side Post-office and ask for an explanation, aswell as to have her meet him. The thought that this letter wouldprobably not reach her until Monday chafed him exceedingly. He mustget some speedier method--but how?

He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating a messenger or acab direct to the house, owing to the exposure of it, but finding thattime was slipping away to no purpose, he wrote the letter and thenbegan to think again. 

The hours slipped by, and with them the possibility of the union he hadcontemplated. He had thought to be joyously aiding Carrie by now inthe task of joining her interests to his, and here it was afternoon andnothing done. Three o'clock came, four, five, six, and no letter. Thehelpless manager paced the floor and grimly endured the gloom ofdefeat. He saw a busy Saturday ushered out, the Sabbath in, andnothing done. All day, the bar being closed, he brooded alone, shutout from home, from the excitement of his resort, from Carrie, andwithout the ability to alter his condition one iota. It was the worstSunday 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 lawoffices 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 beenretained by Mrs. Julia Hurstwood to adjust certain matters whichrelated to her sustenance and property rights, and would he kindly calland see them about the matter at once. 

He read it through carefully several times, and then merely shook hishead. 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 quitecertain now that she knew he was married and was angered at hisperfidy. His loss seemed all the more bitter now that he needed hermost. He thought he would go out and insist on seeing her if she didnot send him word of some sort soon. He was really affected mostmiserably of all by this desertion. He had loved her earnestly enough, but now that the possibility of losing her stared him in the face sheseemed much more attractive. He really pined for a word, and lookedout upon her with his mind's eye in the most wistful manner. He didnot propose to lose her, whatever she might think. Come what might, hewould adjust this matter, and soon. He would go to her and tell herall his family complications. He would explain to her just where hestood and how much he needed her. Surely she couldn't go back on himnow? 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 hasgone?"

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

Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing. 

On Tuesday it was the same way. He did manage to bring himself intothe mood to go out to Carrie, but when he got in Ogden Place he thoughthe saw a man watching him and went away. He did not go within a blockof the house. 

One of the galling incidents of this visit was that he came back on aRandolph Street car, and without noticing arrived almost opposite thebuilding of the concern with which his son was connected. This sent apang through his heart. He had called on his boy there several times. Now the lad had not sent him a word. His absence did not seem to benoticed by either of his children. Well, well, fortune plays a manqueer tricks. He got back to his office and joined in a conversationwith friends. It was as if idle chatter deadened the sense of misery. 

That night he dined at Rector's and returned at once to his office. Inthe bustle and show of the latter was his only relief. He troubledover many little details and talked perfunctorily to everybody. Hestayed at his desk long after all others had gone, and only quitted itwhen the night watchman on his round pulled at the front door to see ifit was safely locked. 

On Wednesday he received another polite note from McGregor, James andHay. It read:

 "Dear Sir: We beg to inform you that we are instructed to wait untilto-morrow (Thursday) at one o'clock, before filing suit against you, onbehalf of Mrs. Julia Hurstwood, for divorce and alimony. If we do nothear from you before that time we shall consider that you do not wishto compromise the matter in any way and act accordingly. "Very trulyyours, etc. "

 "Compromise!" exclaimed Hurstwood bitterly. "Compromise!"

Again he shook his head. 

So here it was spread out clear before him, and now he knew what toexpect. If he didn't go and see them they would sue him promptly. Ifhe did, he would be offered terms that would make his blood boil. Hefolded the letter and put it with the other one. Then he put on hishat and went for a turn about the block. 

Chapter XXVITHE AMBASSADOR FALLEN--A SEARCH FOR THE GATE

 Carrie, left alone by Drouet, listened to his retreating steps, scarcely realizing what had happened. She knew that he had stormedout. It was some moments before she questioned whether he wouldreturn, not now exactly, but ever. She looked around her upon therooms, out of which the evening light was dying, and wondered why shedid not feel quite the same towards them. She went over to the dresserand struck a match, lighting the gas. Then she went back to the rockerto think. 

It was some time before she could collect her thoughts, but when shedid, this truth began to take on importance. She was quite alone. Suppose Drouet did not come back? Suppose she should never hearanything more of him? This fine arrangement of chambers would not lastlong. She would have to quit them. 

To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on Hurstwood. Shecould only approach that subject with a pang of sorrow and regret. Fora truth, she was rather shocked and frightened by this evidence ofhuman depravity. He would have tricked her without turning an eyelash. She would have been led into a newer and worse situation. And yet shecould not keep out the pictures of his looks and manners. Only thisone deed seemed strange and miserable. It contrasted sharply with allshe felt and knew concerning the man. 

But she was alone. That was the greater thought just at present. Howabout that? Would she go out to work again? Would she begin to lookaround in the business district? The stage! Oh, yes. Drouet had spokenabout that. Was there any hope there? She moved to and fro, in deepand varied thoughts, while the minutes slipped away and night fellcompletely. She had had nothing to eat, and yet there she sat, thinking it over. 

She remembered that she was hungry and went to the little cupboard inthe rear room where were the remains of one of their breakfasts. Shelooked at these things with certain misgivings. The contemplation offood had more significance than usual. 

While she was eating she began to wonder how much money she had. Itstruck her as exceedingly important, and without ado she went to lookfor her purse. It was on the dresser, and in it were seven dollars inbills and some change. She quailed as she thought of theinsignificance of the amount and rejoiced because the rent was paiduntil the end of the month. She began also to think what she wouldhave 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 presentseemed agreeable. She had a little time at least, and then, perhaps, everything would come out all right, after all. 

Drouet had gone, but what of it? He did not seem seriously angry. Heonly acted as if he were huffy. He would come back--of course hewould. 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 andtried to assure herself with the sight of a dozen such details, but, alas, the secondary thought arrived. Supposing he did come back. Thenwhat?

Here was another proposition nearly, if not quite, as disturbing. Shewould have to talk with and explain to him. He would want her to admitthat he was right. It would be impossible for her to live with him. 

On Friday Carrie remembered her appointment with Hurstwood, and thepassing of the hour when she should, by all right of promise, have beenin his company served to keep the calamity which had befallen herexceedingly fresh and clear. In her nervousness and stress of mind shefelt 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. 

The rain, which threatened at twelve and began at one, served equallywell to cause her to retrace her steps and remain within doors as itdid to reduce Hurstwood's spirits and give him a wretched day. 

The morrow was Saturday, a half-holiday in many business quarters, andbesides it was a balmy, radiant day, with the trees and grass shiningexceedingly green after the rain of the night before. When she wentout the sparrows were twittering merrily in joyous choruses. She couldnot help feeling, as she looked across the lovely park, that life was ajoyous thing for those who did not need to worry, and she wished overand over that something might interfere now to preserve for her thecomfortable state which she had occupied. She did not want Drouet orhis money when she thought of it, nor anything more to do withHurstwood, but only the content and ease of mind she had experienced, for, after all, she had been happy--happier, at least, than she was nowwhen confronted by the necessity of making her way alone. 

When she arrived in the business part it was quite eleven o'clock, andthe business had little longer to run. She did not realize this atfirst, being affected by some of the old distress which was a result ofher earlier adventure into this strenuous and exacting quarter. Shewandered about, assuring herself that she was making up her mind tolook for something, and at the same time feeling that perhaps it wasnot necessary to be in such haste about it. The thing was difficult toencounter, and she had a few days. Besides, she was not sure that shewas really face to face again with the bitter problem of self-sustenance. Anyhow, there was one change for the better. She knew thatshe had improved in appearance. Her manner had vastly changed. Herclothes were becoming, and men--well-dressed men, some of the kind whobefore had gazed at her indifferently from behind their polishedrailings and imposing office partitions--now gazed into her face with asoft light in their eyes. In a way, she felt the power andsatisfaction of the thing, but it did not wholly reassure her. Shelooked for nothing save what might come legitimately and without theappearance of special favor. She wanted something, but no man shouldbuy her by false protestations or favor. She proposed to earn herliving honestly. 

"This store closes at one on Saturdays, " was a pleasing andsatisfactory legend to see upon doors which she felt she ought to enterand inquire for work. It gave her an excuse, and after encounteringquite a number of them, and noting that the clock registered 12. 15, shedecided that it would be no use to seek further to-day, so she got on acar and went to Lincoln Park. There was always something to see there--the flowers, the animals, the lake--and she flattered herself that onMonday she would be up betimes and searching. Besides, many thingsmight happen between now and Monday. 

Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heaven knowswhat vagaries of mind and spirit. Every half-hour in the day thethought would come to her most sharply, like the tail of a swishingwhip, that action--immediate action--was imperative. At other times shewould look about her and assure herself that things were not so bad--that certainly she would come out safe and sound. At such times shewould think of Drouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw somechance for herself in that quarter. She decided to take up thatopportunity on the morrow. 

Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and dressed herselfcarefully. She did not know just how such applications were made, butshe took it to be a matter which related more directly to the theatrebuildings. All you had to do was to inquire of some one about thetheatre for the manager and ask for a position. If there was anything, you might get it, or, at least, he could tell you how. 

She had had no experience with this class of individuals whatsoever, and did not know the salacity and humor of the theatrical tribe. Sheonly knew of the position which Mr. Hale occupied, but, of all things, she did not wish to encounter that personage, on account of herintimacy with his wife. 

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 twoelaborate performances there and had heard of several others. She knewnothing of Henderson nor of the methods of applying, but sheinstinctively felt that this would be a likely place, and accordinglystrolled about in that neighborhood. She came bravely enough to theshowy entrance way, with the polished and begilded lobby, set withframed pictures out of the current attraction, leading up to the quietbox-office, but she could get no further. A noted comic opera comedianwas holding forth that week, and the air of distinction and prosperityoverawed her. She could not imagine that there would be anything insuch a lofty sphere for her. She almost trembled at the audacity whichmight have carried her on to a terrible rebuff. She could find heartonly to look at the pictures which were showy and then walk out. Itseemed to her as if she had made a splendid escape and that it would befoolhardy to think of applying in that quarter again. 

This little experience settled her hunting for one day. She lookedaround elsewhere, but it was from the outside. She got the location ofseveral playhouses fixed in her mind--notably the Grand Opera House andMcVickar's, both of which were leading in attractions--and then cameaway. Her spirits were materially reduced, owing to the newly restoredsense of magnitude of the great interests and the insignificance of herclaims upon society, such as she understood them to be. 

That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter and protractedstay made it impossible to dwell upon her predicament or the fortune ofthe day. Before retiring, however, she sat down to think, and gaveherself up to the most gloomy forebodings. Drouet had not put in anappearance. She had had no word from any quarter, she had spent adollar of her precious sum in procuring food and paying car fare. Itwas evident that she would not endure long. Besides, she haddiscovered no resource. 

In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in Van BurenStreet, whom she had not seen since the night of her flight, and to herhome at Columbia City, which seemed now a part of something that couldnot be again. She looked for no refuge in that direction. Nothing butsorrow was brought her by thoughts of Hurstwood, which would return. That he could have chosen to dupe her in so ready a manner seemed acruel thing. 

Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and speculation. Shewas in no mood, after her failure of the day before, to hasten forthupon her work-seeking errand, and yet she rebuked herself for what sheconsidered her weakness the day before. Accordingly she started out torevisit the Chicago Opera House, but possessed scarcely enough courageto approach. 

She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however. 

"Manager of the company or the house?" asked the smartly dressedindividual who took care of the tickets. He was favorably impressed byCarrie's looks. 

"I don't know, " said Carrie, taken back by the question. 

"You couldn't see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow, " volunteeredthe young man. "He's out of town. "

He noted her puzzled look, and then added: "What is it you wish to seeabout?"

"I want to see about getting a position, " she answered. 

"You'd better see the manager of the company, " he returned, "but heisn't here now. "

"When will he be in?" asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by thisinformation. 

"Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve. He's hereafter two o'clock. "

Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young man gazedafter her through one of the side windows of his gilded coop. 

"Good-looking, " he said to himself, and proceeded to visions ofcondescension's on her part which were exceedingly flattering tohimself. 

One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing anengagement at the Grand Opera House. Here Carrie asked to see themanager of the company. She little knew the trivial authority of thisindividual, or that had there been a vacancy an actor would have beensent on from New York to fill it. 

"His office is upstairs, " said a man in the box-office. 

Several persons were in the manager's office, two lounging near awindow, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-top desk--the manager. Carrie glanced nervously about, and began to fear thatshe should have to make her appeal before the assembled company, two ofwhom--the occupants of the window--were already observing hercarefully. 

"I can't do it, " the manager was saying; "it's a rule of Mr. Frohman'snever to allow visitors back of the stage. No, no!"

Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but no onemotioned her to be seated. The individual to whom the manager had beentalking went away quite crestfallen. That luminary gazed earnestly atsome papers before him, as if they were of the greatest concern. 

"Did you see that in the 'Herald' this morning about Nat Goodwin, Harris?"

"No, " said the person addressed. "What was it?" "Made quite a curtainaddress at Hooley's last night. Better look it up. "

Harris reached over to a table and began to look for the "Herald. "

"What is it?" said the manager to Carrie, apparently noticing her forthe first time. He thought he was going to be held up for freetickets. 

Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at best. Sherealized 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 hadcalled for advice. 

"Can you tell me how to go about getting on the stage?"

It was the best way after all to have gone about the matter. She wasinteresting, in a manner, to the occupant of the chair, and thesimplicity of her request and attitude took his fancy. He smiled, asdid the others in the room, who, however, made some slight effort toconceal their humor. 

"I don't know, " he answered, looking her brazenly over. "Have you everhad any experience upon the stage?"

"A little, " answered Carrie. "I have taken part in amateurperformances. "

She thought she had to make some sort of showing in order to retain hisinterest. 

"Never studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an air intended asmuch to impress his friends with his discretion as Carrie. 

"No, sir. "

"Well, I don't know, " he answered, tipping lazily back in his chairwhile she stood before him. "What makes you want to get on the stage?"

She felt abashed at the man's daring, but could only smile in answer tohis engaging smirk, and say:

"I need to make a living. "

"Oh, " he answered, rather taken by her trim appearance, and feeling asif 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 couldhardly expect to get started out here. " Carrie smiled genially, grateful that he should condescend to advise her even so much. Henoticed the smile, and put a slightly different construction on it. Hethought he saw an easy chance for a little flirtation. 

"Sit down, " he said, pulling a chair forward from the side of his deskand dropping his voice so that the two men in the room should not hear. Those two gave each other the suggestion of a wink. 

"Well, I'll be going, Barney, " said one, breaking away and soaddressing the manager. "See you this afternoon. "

"All right, " said the manager. 

The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read. 

"Did you have any idea what sort of part you would like to get?" askedthe manager softly. 

"Oh, no, " said Carrie. "I would take anything to begin with. "

"I see, " he said. "Do you live here in the city?"

"Yes, sir. "

The manager smiled most blandly. 

"Have you ever tried to get in as a chorus girl?" he asked, assuming amore confidential air. 

Carrie began to feel that there was something exuberant and unnaturalin his manner. 

"No, " she said. 

"That's the way most girls begin, " he went on, "who go on the stage. It's a good way to get experience. "

He was turning on her a glance of the companionable and persuasivemanner. 

"I didn't know that, " said Carrie. 

"It's a difficult thing, " he went on, "but there's always a chance, youknow. " Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he pulled out his watch andconsulted it. "I've an appointment at two, " he said, "and I've got togo to lunch now. Would you care to come and dine with me? We can talkit over there. "

"Oh, no, " said Carrie, the whole motive of the man flashing on her atonce. "I have an engagement myself. "

"That's too bad, " he said, realizing that he had been a littlebeforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about to go away. "Come inlater. I may know of something. "

"Thank you, " she answered, with some trepidation and went out. 

"She was good-looking, wasn't she?" said the manager's companion, whohad not caught all the details of the game he had played. 

"Yes, in a way, " said the other, sore to think the game had been lost. "She'd never make an actress, though. Just another chorus girl--that'sall. "

This little experience nearly destroyed her ambition to call upon themanager at the Chicago Opera House, but she decided to do so after atime. He was of a more sedate turn of mind. He said at once thatthere was no opening of any sort, and seemed to consider her searchfoolish. 

"Chicago is no place to get a start, " he said. "You ought to be in NewYork. "

Still she persisted, and went to McVickar's, where she could not findany one. "The Old Homestead" was running there, but the person to whomshe was referred was not to be found. 

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 tocontinue and inquire elsewhere, but the results so far were toodispiriting. 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 ofthe Post-office, where she was accustomed to receive Hurstwood'sletters. There was one there now, written Saturday, which she toreopen and read with mingled feelings. There was so much warmth in it andsuch tense complaint at her having failed to meet him, and hersubsequent silence, that she rather pitied the man. That he loved herwas evident enough. That he had wished and dared to do so, married ashe was, was the evil. She felt as if the thing deserved an answer, andconsequently decided that she would write and let him know that sheknew of his married state and was justly incensed at his deception. She would tell him that it was all over between them. 

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. 

"You do not need to have me explain why I did not meet you, " she wrotein part. "How could you deceive me so? You cannot expect me to haveanything 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 havecaused me more misery than you can think. I hope you will get over yourinfatuation for me. We must not meet any more. Good-bye. "

 She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner dropped itreluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain as to whether sheshould do so or not. Then she took the car and went down town. 

This was the dull season with the department stores, but she waslistened to with more consideration than was usually accorded to youngwomen applicants, owing to her neat and attractive appearance. She wasasked the same old questions with which she was already familiar. 

"What can you do? Have you ever worked in a retail store before? Areyou experienced?"

At The Fair, See and Company's, and all the great stores it was muchthe same. It was the dull season, she might come in a little later, possibly they would like to have her. 

When she arrived at the house at the end of the day, weary anddisheartened, she discovered that Drouet had been there. His umbrellaand light overcoat were gone. She thought she missed other things, butcould not be sure. Everything had not been taken. 

So his going was crystallizing into staying. What was she to do now?Evidently she would be facing the world in the same old way within aday or two. Her clothes would get poor. She put her two handstogether in her customary expressive way and pressed her fingers. Large tears gathered in her eyes and broke hot across her cheeks. Shewas alone, very much alone. 

Drouet really had called, but it was with a very different mind fromthat which Carrie had imagined. He expected to find her, to justifyhis return by claiming that he came to get the remaining portion of hiswardrobe, and before he got away again to patch up a peace. 

Accordingly, when he arrived, he was disappointed to find Carrie out. He trifled about, hoping that she was somewhere in the neighborhood andwould soon return. He constantly listened, expecting to hear her footon the stair. 

When he did so, it was his intention to make believe that he had justcome in and was disturbed at being caught. Then he would explain hisneed of his clothes and find out how things stood. 

Wait as he did, however, Carrie did not come. From pottering aroundamong the drawers, in momentary expectation of her arrival he changedto looking out of the window, and from that to resting himself in therocking-chair. Still no Carrie. He began to grow restless and lit acigar. After that he walked the floor. Then he looked out of thewindow and saw clouds gathering. He remembered an appointment atthree. He began to think that it would be useless to wait, and gothold of his umbrella and light coat, intending to take these things, any way. It would scare her, he hoped. To-morrow he would come backfor the others. He would find out how things stood. 

As he started to go he felt truly sorry that he had missed her. Therewas a little picture of her on the wall, showing her arrayed in thelittle jacket he had first bought her--her face a little more wistfulthan he had seen it lately. He was really touched by it, and lookedinto the eyes of it with a rather rare feeling for him. 

"You didn't do me right, Cad, " he said, as if he were addressing her inthe flesh. 

Then he went to the door, took a good look around and went out. 

Chapter XXVIIWHEN WATERS ENGULF US WE REACH FOR A STAR

 It was when he returned from his disturbed stroll about the streets, after receiving the decisive note from McGregor, James and Hay, thatHurstwood found the letter Carrie had written him that morning. Hethrilled intensely as he noted the handwriting, and rapidly tore itopen. 

"Then, " he thought, "she loves me or she would not have written to meat all. "

He was slightly depressed at the tenor of the note for the first fewminutes, but soon recovered. "She wouldn't write at all if she didn'tcare for me. "

This was his one resource against the depression which held him. Hecould extract little from the wording of the letter, but the spirit hethought he knew. 

There was really something exceedingly human--if not pathetic--in hisbeing thus relieved by a clearly worded reproof. He who had for solong remained satisfied with himself now looked outside of himself forcomfort--and to such a source. The mystic cords of affection! How theybind us all. 

The color came to his cheeks. For the moment he forgot the letter fromMcGregor, James and Hay. If he could only have Carrie, perhaps hecould 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 notlose Carrie. He stood up and walked about, dreaming his delightfuldream of a life continued with this lovely possessor of his heart. 

It was not long, however, before the old worry was back forconsideration, and with it what weariness! He thought of the morrow andthe suit. He had done nothing, and here was the afternoon slippingaway. It was now a quarter of four. At five the attorneys would havegone home. He still had the morrow until noon. Even as he thought, the last fifteen minutes passed away and it was five. Then heabandoned the thought of seeing them any more that day and turned toCarrie. 

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 possibilityof persuading Carrie. Nothing was wrong in that. He loved her dearly. Their mutual happiness depended upon it. Would that Drouet were onlyaway!

While he was thinking thus elatedly, he remembered that he wanted someclean linen in the morning. 

This he purchased, together with a half-dozen ties, and went to thePalmer House. As he entered he thought he saw Drouet ascending thestairs with a key. Surely not Drouet! Then he thought, perhaps theyhad changed their abode temporarily. He went straight up to the desk. 

"Is Mr. Drouet stopping here?" he asked of the clerk. 

"I think he is, " said the latter, consulting his private registry list. "Yes. "

"Is that so?" exclaimed Hurstwood, otherwise concealing hisastonishment. "Alone?" he added. 

"Yes, " said the clerk. 

Hurstwood turned away and set his lips so as best to express andconceal his feelings. 

"How's that?" he thought. "They've had a row. "

He hastened to his room with rising spirits and changed his linen. Ashe did so, he made up his mind that if Carrie was alone, or if she hadgone to another place, it behooved him to find out. He decided to callat once. 

"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 andwhere Carrie is. "

He was almost moved to some muscular display as he thought of it. Hedecided to go immediately after supper. 

On coming down from his room at six, he looked carefully about to seeif Drouet was present and then went out to lunch. He could scarcelyeat, however, he was so anxious to be about his errand. Before startinghe thought it well to discover where Drouet would be, and returned tohis hotel. 

"Has Mr. Drouet gone out?" he asked of the clerk. 

"No, " answered the latter, "he's in his room. Do you wish to send up acard?" "No, I'll call around later, " answered Hurstwood, and strolledout. 

He took a Madison car and went direct to Ogden Place this time walkingboldly up to the door. The chambermaid answered his knock. 

"Is Mr. Drouet in?" said Hurstwood blandly. 

"He is out of the city, " said the girl, who had heard Carrie tell thisto Mrs. Hale. 

"Is Mrs. Drouet in?"

"No, she has gone to the theatre. "

"Is that so?" said Hurstwood, considerably taken back; then, as ifburdened with something important, "You don't know to which theatre?"

The girl really had no idea where she had gone, but not likingHurstwood, and wishing to cause him trouble, answered: "Yes, Hooley's. "

"Thank you, " returned the manager, and, tipping his hat slightly, wentaway. 

"I'll look in at Hooley's, " thought he, but as a matter of fact he didnot. Before he had reached the central portion of the city he thoughtthe whole matter over and decided it would be useless. As much as helonged to see Carrie, he knew she would be with some one and did notwish to intrude with his plea there. A little later he might do so--inthe morning. Only in the morning he had the lawyer question beforehim. 

This little pilgrimage threw quite a wet blanket upon his risingspirits. He was soon down again to his old worry, and reached theresort anxious to find relief. Quite a company of gentlemen weremaking the place lively with their conversation. A group of CookCounty politicians were conferring about a round cherry-wood table inthe rear portion of the room. Several young merrymakers werechattering at the bar before making a belated visit to the theatre. Ashabbily-genteel individual, with a red nose and an old high hat, wassipping a quiet glass of ale alone at one end of the bar. Hurstwoodnodded to the politicians and went into his office. 

About ten o'clock a friend of his, Mr. Frank L. Taintor, a local sportand racing man, dropped in, and seeing Hurstwood alone in his officecame to the door. 

"Hello, George!" he exclaimed. 

"How are you, Frank?" said Hurstwood, somewhat relieved by the sight ofhim. "Sit down, " and he motioned him to one of the chairs in thelittle room. 

"What's the matter, George?" asked Taintor. "You look a little glum. Haven't lost at the track, have you?"

"I'm not feeling very well to-night. I had a slight cold the otherday. "

"Take whiskey, George, " said Taintor. "You ought to know that. "

Hurstwood smiled. 

While they were still conferring there, several other of Hurstwood'sfriends entered, and not long after eleven, the theatres being out, some actors began to drop in--among them some notabilities. 

Then began one of those pointless social conversations so common inAmerican resorts where the would-be gilded attempt to rub off gilt fromthose who have it in abundance. If Hurstwood had one leaning, it wastoward notabilities. He considered that, if anywhere, he belongedamong them. He was too proud to toady, too keen not to strictlyobserve the plane he occupied when there were those present who did notappreciate him, but, in situations like the present, where he couldshine as a gentleman and be received without equivocation as a friendand equal among men of known ability, he was most delighted. It was onsuch occasions, if ever, that he would "take something. " When thesocial flavor was strong enough he would even unbend to the extent ofdrinking glass for glass with his associates, punctiliously observinghis turn to pay as if he were an outsider like the others. If he everapproached intoxication--or rather that ruddy warmth andcomfortableness which precedes the more slovenly state--it was whenindividuals such as these were gathered about him, when he was one of acircle of chatting celebrities. To-night, disturbed as was his state, he was rather relieved to find company, and now that notabilities weregathered, he laid aside his troubles for the nonce, and joined in rightheartily. 

It was not long before the imbibing began to tell. Stories began tocrop up--those ever-enduring, droll stories which form the majorportion of the conversation among American men under suchcircumstances. 

Twelve o'clock arrived, the hour for closing, and with it the companytook leave. Hurstwood shook hands with them most cordially. He wasvery roseate physically. He had arrived at that state where his mind, though clear, was, nevertheless, warm in its fancies. He felt as ifhis troubles were not very serious. Going into his office, he began toturn over certain accounts, awaiting the departure of the bartendersand the cashier, who soon left. 

It was the manager's duty, as well as his custom, after all were goneto 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 aboutthe place, and that was locked in the safe by the cashier, who, withthe owners, was joint keeper of the secret combination, but, nevertheless, Hurstwood nightly took the precaution to try the cashdrawers and the safe in order to see that they were tightly closed. Then he would lock his own little office and set the proper lightburning near the safe, after which he would take his departure. 

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. Hewas slightly surprised at that, and looking in found the money cases asleft for the day, apparently unprotected. His first thought was, ofcourse, to inspect the drawers and shut the door. 

"I'll speak to Mayhew about this to-morrow, " he thought. 

The latter had certainly imagined upon going out a half-hour beforethat he had turned the knob on the door so as to spring the lock. Hehad never failed to do so before. But to-night Mayhew had otherthoughts. He had been revolving the problem of a business of his own. 

"I'll look in here, " thought the manager, pulling out the moneydrawers. He did not know why he wished to look in there. It was quitea superfluous action, which another time might not have happened atall. 

As he did so, a layer of bills, in parcels of a thousand, such as banksissue, caught his eye. He could not tell how much they represented, but paused to view them. Then he pulled out the second of the cashdrawers. In that were the receipts of the day. 

"I didn't know Fitzgerald and Moy ever left any money this way, " hismind said to itself. "They must have forgotten it. "

He looked at the other drawer and paused again. 

"Count them, " said a voice in his ear. 

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 onehundred dollars done in packages of a thousand. He thought he countedten such. 

"Why don't I shut the safe?" his mind said to itself, lingering. "Whatmakes me pause here?"

For answer there came the strangest words:

"Did you ever have ten thousand dollars in ready money?"

Lo, the manager remembered that he had never had so much. All hisproperty had been slowly accumulated, and now his wife owned that. Hewas worth more than forty thousand, all told--but she would get that. 

He puzzled as he thought of these things, then pushed in the drawersand closed the door, pausing with his hand upon the knob, which mightso easily lock it all beyond temptation. Still he paused. Finally hewent to the windows and pulled down the curtains. Then he tried thedoor, which he had previously locked. What was this thing, making himsuspicious? Why did he wish to move about so quietly. He came back tothe end of the counter as if to rest his arm and think. Then he wentand unlocked his little office door and turned on the light. He alsoopened his desk, sitting down before it, only to think strangethoughts. 

"The safe is open, " said a voice. "There is just the least littlecrack in it. The lock has not been sprung. "

The manager floundered among a jumble of thoughts. Now all theentanglement of the day came back. Also the thought that here was asolution. That money would do it. If he had that and Carrie. He roseup and stood stock-still, looking at the floor. 

"What about it?" his mind asked, and for answer he put his hand slowlyup and scratched his head. 

The manager was no fool to be led blindly away by such an errantproposition as this, but his situation was peculiar. Wine was in hisveins. It had crept up into his head and given him a warm view of thesituation. It also colored 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, waswaiting discussion to-morrow morning. He would not need to answerthat. He went back to the safe and put his hand on the knob. Then hepulled the door open and took the drawer with the money quite out. 

With it once out and before him, it seemed a foolish thing to thinkabout leaving it. Certainly it would. Why, he could live quietly withCarrie for years. 

Lord! what was that? For the first time he was tense, as if a sternhand had been laid upon his shoulder. He looked fearfully around. Nota soul was present. Not a sound. Some one was shuffling by on thesidewalk. He took the box and the money and put it back in the safe. Then he partly closed the door again. 

To those who have never wavered in conscience, the predicament of theindividual whose mind is less strongly constituted and who trembles inthe balance between duty and desire is scarcely appreciable, unlessgraphically portrayed. Those who have never heard that solemn voice ofthe ghostly clock which ticks with awful distinctness, "thou shalt, ""thou shalt not, " "thou shalt, " "thou shalt not, " are in no position tojudge. Not alone in sensitive, highly organized natures is such amental conflict possible. The dullest specimen of humanity, when drawnby desire toward evil, is recalled by a sense of right, which isproportionate in power and strength to his evil tendency. We mustremember that it may not be a knowledge of right, for no knowledge ofright is predicated of the animal's instinctive recoil at evil. Menare still led by instinct before they are regulated by knowledge. Itis instinct which recalls the criminal--it is instinct (where highlyorganized reasoning is absent) which gives the criminal his feeling ofdanger, his fear of wrong. 

At every first adventure, then, into some untried evil, the mindwavers. The clock of thought ticks out its wish and its denial. Tothose who have never experienced such a mental dilemma, the followingwill appeal on the simple ground of revelation. 

When Hurstwood put the money back, his nature again resumed its easeand daring. No one had observed him. He was quite alone. No one couldtell what he wished to do. He could work this thing out for himself. 

The imbibation of the evening had not yet worn off. Moist as was hisbrow, tremble as did his hand once after the nameless fright, he wasstill flushed with the fumes of liquor. He scarcely noticed that thetime was passing. He went over his situation once again, his eyealways seeing the money in a lump, his mind always seeing what it woulddo. He strolled into his little room, then to the door, then to thesafe again. He put his hand on the knob and opened it. There was themoney! Surely no harm could come from looking at it!

He took out the drawer again and lifted the bills. They were sosmooth, so compact, so portable. How little they made, after all. Hedecided he would take them. Yes, he would. He would put them in hispocket. Then he looked at that and saw they would not go there. Hishand satchel! To be sure, his hand satchel. They would go in that--allof it would. No one would think anything of it either. He went intothe little office and took it from the shelf in the corner. Now he setit upon his desk and went out toward the safe. For some reason he didnot want to fill it out in the big room. First he brought the bills andthen the loose receipts of the day. He would take it all. He put theempty drawers back and pushed the iron door almost to, then stoodbeside it meditating. 

The wavering of a mind under such circumstances is an almostinexplicable thing, and yet it is absolutely true. Hurstwood could notbring himself to act definitely. He wanted to think about it--toponder over it, to decide whether it were best. He was drawn by such akeen desire for Carrie, driven by such a state of turmoil in his ownaffairs that he thought constantly it would be best, and yet hewavered. He did not know what evil might result from it to him--howsoon he might come to grief. The true ethics of the situation neveronce occurred to him, and never would have, under any circumstances. 

After he had all the money in the handbag, a revulsion of feelingseized him. He would not do it--no! Think of what a scandal it wouldmake. The police! They would be after him. He would have to fly, andwhere? Oh, the terror of being a fugitive from justice! He took out thetwo boxes and put all the money back. In his excitement he forgot whathe was doing, and put the sums in the wrong boxes. As he pushed thedoor to, he thought he remembered doing it wrong and opened the dooragain. There were the two boxes mixed. 

He took them out and straightened the matter, but now the terror hadgone. Why be afraid?

While the money was in his hand the lock clicked. It had sprung! Didhe do it? He grabbed at the knob and pulled vigorously. It had closed. Heavens! he was in for it now, sure enough. 

The moment he realized that the safe was locked for a surety, the sweatburst out upon his brow and he trembled violently. He looked about himand decided instantly. There was no delaying now. 

"Supposing I do lay it on the top, " he said, "and go away, they'll knowwho took it. I'm the last to close up. Besides, other things willhappen. "

At once he became the man of action. 

"I must get out of this, " he thought. 

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 butone light and opened the door. He tried to put on his old assured air, but it was almost gone. He was repenting rapidly. 

"I wish I hadn't done that, " he said. "That was a mistake. "

He walked steadily down the street, greeting a night watchman whom heknew who was trying doors. He must get out of the city, and thatquickly. 

"I wonder how the trains run?" he thought. 

Instantly he pulled out his watch and looked. It was nearly half-pastone. 

At the first drugstore he stopped, seeing a long-distance telephonebooth inside. It was a famous drugstore, and contained one of thefirst private telephone booths ever erected. "I want to use your 'phonea minute, " he said to the night clerk. 

The latter nodded. 

"Give me 1643, " he called to Central, after looking up the MichiganCentral depot number. Soon he got the ticket agent. 

"How do the trains leave here for Detroit?" he asked. 

The man explained the hours. 

"No more to-night?"

"Nothing with a sleeper. Yes, there is, too, " he added. "There is amail train out of here at three o'clock. "

"All right, " said Hurstwood. "What time does that get to Detroit?"

He was thinking if he could only get there and cross the river intoCanada, he could take his time about getting to Montreal. He wasrelieved to learn that it would reach there by noon. 

"Mayhew won't open the safe till nine, " he thought. "They can't get onmy track before noon. "

Then he thought of Carrie. With what speed must he get her, if he gother at all. She would have to come along. He jumped into the nearestcab standing by. 

"To Ogden Place, " he said sharply. "I'll give you a dollar more if youmake good time. "

The cabby beat his horse into a sort of imitation gallop which wasfairly fast, however. On the way Hurstwood thought what to do. Reaching the number, he hurried up the steps and did not spare the bellin waking the servant. 

"Is Mrs. Drouet in?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said the astonished girl. 

"Tell her to dress and come to the door at once. Her husband is in thehospital, injured, and wants to see her. "

The servant girl hurried upstairs, convinced by the man's strained andemphatic manner. 

"What!" said Carrie, lighting the gas and searching for her clothes. 

"Mr. Drouet is hurt and in the hospital. He wants to see you. Thecab's downstairs. "

Carrie dressed very rapidly, and soon appeared below, forgettingeverything save the necessities. 

"Drouet is hurt, " said Hurstwood quickly. "He wants to see you. Comequickly. "

Carrie was so bewildered that she swallowed the whole story. 

"Get in, " said Hurstwood, helping her and jumping after. 

The cabby began to turn the horse around. "Michigan Central depot, " hesaid, standing up and speaking so low that Carrie could not hear, "asfast as you can go. "

Chapter XXVIIIA PILGRIM, AN OUTLAW--THE SPIRIT DETAINED

 The cab had not traveled a short block before Carrie, settling herselfand thoroughly waking in the night atmosphere, asked:

"What's the matter with him? Is he hurt badly?"

"It isn't anything very serious, " Hurstwood said solemnly. He was verymuch disturbed over his own situation, and now that he had Carrie withhim, he only wanted to get safely out of reach of the law. Thereforehe was in no mood for anything save such words as would further hisplans distinctly. 

Carrie did not forget that there was something to be settled betweenher and Hurstwood, but the thought was ignored in her agitation. Theone thing was to finish this strange pilgrimage. 

"Where is he?"

"Way out on the South Side, " said Hurstwood. "We'll have to take thetrain. It's the quickest way. "

Carrie said nothing, and the horse gamboled on. The weirdness of thecity by night held her attention. She looked at the long receding rowsof lamps and studied the dark, silent houses. 

"How did he hurt himself?" she asked--meaning what was the nature ofhis injuries. Hurstwood understood. He hated to lie any more thannecessary, and yet he wanted no protests until he was out of danger. 

"I don't know exactly, " he said. "They just called me up to go and getyou and bring you out. They said there wasn't any need for alarm, butthat I shouldn't fail to bring you. "

The man's serious manner convinced Carrie, and she became silent, wondering. 

Hurstwood examined his watch and urged the man to hurry. For one in sodelicate a position he was exceedingly cool. He could only think ofhow needful it was to make the train and get quietly away. Carrieseemed quite tractable, and he congratulated himself. 

In due time they reached the depot, and after helping her out he handedthe man a five-dollar bill and hurried on. 

"You wait here, " he said to Carrie, when they reached the waiting-room, "while I get the tickets. "

"Have I much time to catch that train for Detroit?" he asked of theagent. 

"Four minutes, " said the latter. 

He paid for two tickets as circumspectly as possible. 

"Is it far?" said Carrie, as he hurried back. 

"Not very, " he said. "We must get right in. "

He pushed her before him at the gate, stood between her and the ticketman while the latter punched their tickets, so that she could not see, and then hurried after. 

There was a long line of express and passenger cars and one or twocommon day coaches. As the train had only recently been made up andfew passengers were expected, there were only one or two brakemenwaiting. They entered the rear day coach and sat down. Almostimmediately, "All aboard, " resounded faintly from the outside, and thetrain started. 

Carrie began to think it was a little bit curious--this going to adepot--but said nothing. The whole incident was so out of the naturalthat she did not attach too much weight to anything she imagined. 

"How have you been?" asked Hurstwood gently, for he now breathedeasier. 

"Very well, " said Carrie, who was so disturbed that she could not bringa proper attitude to bear in the matter. She was still nervous toreach Drouet and see what could be the matter. Hurstwood contemplatedher and felt this. He was not disturbed that it should be so. He didnot trouble because she was moved sympathetically in the matter. Itwas one of the qualities in her which pleased him exceedingly. He wasonly thinking how he should explain. Even this was not the mostserious thing in his mind, however. His own deed and present flightwere the great shadows which weighed upon him. 

"What a fool I was to do that, " he said over and over. "What amistake!"

In his sober senses, he could scarcely realize that the thing had beendone. 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 beterrible, but now that the thing was upon him, he only sat and lookedinto the past. The future was a thing which concerned the Canadianline. He wanted to reach that. As for the rest he surveyed hisactions for the evening, and counted them parts of a great mistake. 

"Still, " he said, "what could I have done?"

Then he would decide to make the best of it, and would begin to do soby starting the whole inquiry over again. It was a fruitless, harassing round, and left him in a queer mood to deal with theproposition he had in the presence of Carrie. 

The train clacked through the yards along the lake front, and ranrather slowly to Twenty-fourth Street. Brakes and signals were visiblewithout. The engine gave short calls with its whistle, and frequentlythe bell rang. Several brakemen came through, bearing lanterns. Theywere locking the vestibules and putting the cars in order for a longrun. 

Presently it began to gain speed, and Carrie saw the silent streetsflashing by in rapid succession. The engine also began its whistle-calls of four parts, with which it signaled danger to importantcrossings. 

"Is it very far?" asked Carrie. "Not so very, " said Hurstwood. Hecould hardly repress a smile at her simplicity. He wanted to explainand conciliate her, but he also wanted to be well out of Chicago. 

In the lapse of another half-hour it became apparent to Carrie that itwas quite a run to wherever he was taking her, anyhow. 

"Is it in Chicago?" she asked nervously. They were now far beyond thecity limits, and the train was scudding across the Indiana line at agreat rate. 

"No, " he said, "not where we are going. "

There was something in the way he said this which aroused her in aninstant. 

Her pretty brow began to contract. 

"We are going to see Charlie, aren't we?" she asked. 

He felt that the time was up. An explanation might as well come now aslater. Therefore, he shook his head in the most gentle negative. 

"What?" said Carrie. She was nonplussed at the possibility of theerrand being different from what she had thought. 

He only looked at her in the most kindly and mollifying way. 

"Well, where are you taking me, then?" she asked, her voice showing thequality of fright. 

"I'll tell you, Carrie, if you'll be quiet. I want you to come alongwith me to another city, "

"Oh, " said Carrie, her voice rising into a weak cry. "Let me off. Idon't want to go with you. "

She was quite appalled at the man's audacity. This was something whichhad never for a moment entered her head. Her one thought now was toget off and away. If only the flying train could be stopped, theterrible trick would be amended. 

She arose and tried to push out into the aisle--anywhere. She knew shehad to do something. Hurstwood laid a gentle hand on her. 

"Sit still, Carrie, " he said. "Sit still. It won't do you any good toget up here. Listen to me and I'll tell you what I'll do. Wait amoment. "

She was pushing at his knees, but he only pulled her back. No one sawthis little altercation, for very few persons were in the car, and theywere attempting to doze. 

"I won't, " said Carrie, who was, nevertheless, complying against herwill. "Let me go, " she said. "How dare you?" and large tears began togather in her eyes. 

Hurstwood was now fully aroused to the immediate difficulty, and ceasedto think of his own situation. He must do something with this girl, orshe would cause him trouble. He tried the art of persuasion with allhis powers aroused. 

"Look here now, Carrie, " he said, "you mustn't act this way. I didn'tmean to hurt your feelings. I don't want to do anything to make youfeel bad. "

"Oh, " sobbed Carrie, "oh, oh--oo--o!"

"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?"

Her sobs disturbed him so that he was quite sure she did not hear aword he said. 

"Won't you listen?" he asked. 

"No, I won't, " said Carrie, flashing up. "I want you to take me out ofthis, 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. 

Hurstwood listened with some astonishment. He felt that she had justcause for feeling as she did, and yet he wished that he couldstraighten this thing out quickly. Shortly the conductor would comethrough for the tickets. He wanted no noise, no trouble of any kind. Before everything he must make her quiet. 

"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 outthen if you want to. I won't stop you. All I want you to do is tolisten a moment. You'll let me tell you, won't you?"

Carrie seemed not to listen. She only turned her head toward thewindow, where outside all was black. The train was speeding withsteady grace across the fields and through patches of wood. The longwhistles came with sad, musical effect as the lonely woodland crossingswere approached. 

Now the conductor entered the car and took up the one or two fares thathad been added at Chicago. He approached Hurstwood, who handed out thetickets. Poised as she was to act, Carrie made no move. She did notlook about. 

When the conductor had gone again Hurstwood felt relieved. 

"You're angry at me because I deceived you, " he said. "I didn't meanto, Carrie. As I live I didn't. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stayaway from you after the first time I saw you. "

He was ignoring the last deception as something that might go by theboard. He wanted to convince her that his wife could no longer be afactor in their relationship. The money he had stolen he tried to shutout of his mind. 

"Don't talk to me, " said Carrie, "I hate you. I want you to go awayfrom me. I am going to get out at the very next station. "

She was in a tremble of excitement and opposition as she spoke. 

"All right, " he said, "but you'll hear me out, won't you? After all youhave said about loving me, you might hear me. I don't want to do youany harm. I'll give you the money to go back with when you go. Imerely want to tell you, Carrie. You can't stop me from loving you, whatever you may think. "

He looked at her tenderly, but received no reply. "You think I havedeceived you badly, but I haven't. I didn't do it willingly. I'mthrough with my wife. She hasn't any claims on me. I'll never see herany more. That's why I'm here tonight. That's why I came and gotyou. "

"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 torun away with you. "

She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by him again. Helet her, and she took another seat. Then he followed. 

"Don't run away from me, Carrie, " he said gently. "Let me explain. Ifyou will only hear me out you will see where I stand. I tell you mywife is nothing to me. She hasn't been anything for years or Iwouldn't have ever come near you. I'm going to get a divorce just assoon 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 ofanother woman again. "

Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It sounded sincereenough, however, despite all he had done. There was a tenseness inHurstwood's voice and manner which could but have some effect. She didnot want anything to do with him. He was married, he had deceived heronce, and now again, and she thought him terrible. Still there issomething 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 loveof her. 

The progress of the train was having a great deal to do with thesolution of this difficult situation. The speeding wheels anddisappearing country put Chicago farther and farther behind. Carriecould feel that she was being borne a long distance off-that the enginewas making an almost through run to some distant city. She felt attimes as if she could cry out and make such a row that some one wouldcome to her aid; at other times it seemed an almost useless thing--sofar was she from any aid, no matter what she did. All the whileHurstwood was endeavoring to formulate his plea in such a way that itwould strike home and bring her into sympathy with him. 

"I was simply put where I didn't know what else to do. "

Carrie deigned no suggestion of hearing this. 

"When I say you wouldn't come unless I could marry you, I decided toput everything else behind me and get you to come away with me. I'mgoing 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 yousay. "

"I'll not have anything to do with you, " said Carrie. "I want to getoff this train. Where are we going?"

"To Detroit, " said Hurstwood. 

"Oh!" said Carrie, in a burst of anguish. So distant and definite apoint seemed to increase the difficulty. 

"Won't you come along with me?" he said, as if there was great dangerthat 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 betterthan trying to go back to-night. "

The first gleam of fairness shone in this proposition for Carrie. Itseemed a plausible thing to do, much as she feared his opposition ifshe tried to carry it out. Montreal and New York! Even now she wasspeeding toward those great, strange lands, and could see them if sheliked. She thought, but made no sign. 

Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in this. He redoubledhis ardor. 

"Think, " he said, "what I've given up. I can't go back to Chicago anymore. I've got to stay away and live alone now, if you don't come withme. You won't go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?"

"I don't want you to talk to me, " she answered forcibly. 

Hurstwood kept silent for a while. 

Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the moment to act ifshe was to act at all. She stirred uneasily. 

"Don't think of going, Carrie, " he said. "If you ever cared for me atall, come along and let's start right. I'll do whatever you say. I'llmarry you, or I'll let you go back. Give yourself time to think itover. I wouldn't have wanted you to come if I hadn't loved you. Itell you, Carrie, before God, I can't live without you. I won't!"

There was the tensity of fierceness in the man's plea which appealeddeeply to her sympathies. It was a dissolving fire which was actuatinghim now. He was loving her too intensely to think of giving her up inthis, his hour of distress. He clutched her hand nervously and pressedit with all the force of an appeal. 

The train was now all but stopped. It was running by some cars on aside track. Everything outside was dark and dreary. A few sprinkleson the window began to indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in aquandary, balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the trainstopped, and she was listening to his plea. The engine backed a fewfeet and all was still. 

She wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute after minuteslipped by and still she hesitated, he pleading. 

"Will you let me come back if I want to?" she asked, as if she now hadthe upper hand and her companion was utterly subdued. 

"Of course, " he answered, "you know I will. "

Carrie only listened as one who has granted a temporary amnesty. Shebegan to feel as if the matter were in her hands entirely. 

The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood changed the subject. 

"Aren't you very tired?" he said. 

"No, " she answered. 

"Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper?"

She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery shewas beginning to notice what she had always felt--his thoughtfulness. 

"Oh, yes, " he said, "you will feel so much better. "

She shook her head. 

"Let me fix my coat for you, anyway, " and he arose and arranged hislight coat in a comfortable position to receive her head. 

"There, " he said tenderly, "now see if you can't rest a little. " Hecould have kissed her for her compliance. He took his seat beside herand thought a moment. 

"I believe we're in for a heavy rain, " he said. 

"So it looks, " said Carrie, whose nerves were quieting under the soundof the rain drops, driven by a gusty wind, as the train swept onfrantically through the shadow to a newer world. 

The fact that he had in a measure mollified Carrie was a source ofsatisfaction to Hurstwood, but it furnished only the most temporaryrelief. Now that her opposition was out of the way, he had all of histime to devote to the consideration of his own error. 

His condition was bitter in the extreme, for he did not want themiserable sum he had stolen. He did not want to be a thief. That sumor any other could never compensate for the state which he had thusfoolishly doffed. It could not give him back his host of friends, hisname, 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 hadrobbed himself of his dignity, his merry meetings, his pleasantevenings. And for what? The more he thought of it the more unbearableit became. He began to think that he would try and restore himself tohis old state. He would return the miserable thievings of the nightand explain. Perhaps Moy would understand. Perhaps they would forgivehim and let him come back. 

By noontime the train rolled into Detroit and he began to feelexceedingly nervous. The police must be on his track by now. They hadprobably notified all the police of the big cities, and detectiveswould be watching for him. He remembered instances in which defaultershad been captured. Consequently, he breathed heavily and paledsomewhat. His hands felt as if they must have something to do. Hesimulated interest in several scenes without which he did not feel. Herepeatedly beat his foot upon the floor. 

Carrie noticed his agitation, but said nothing. She had no idea whatit meant or that it was important. 

He wondered now why he had not asked whether this train went on throughto Montreal or some Canadian point. Perhaps he could have saved time. He jumped up and sought the conductor. 

"Does any part of this train go to Montreal?" he asked. 

"Yes, the next sleeper back does. "

He would have asked more, but it did not seem wise, so he decided toinquire at the depot. 

The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing. 

"I think we had better go right on through to Montreal, " he said toCarrie. "I'll see what the connections are when we get off. "

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 driftingmentally, unable to say to herself what to do. 

The train stopped and Hurstwood led the way out. He looked warilyaround him, pretending to look after Carrie. Seeing nothing thatindicated studied observation, he made his way to the ticket office. 

"The next train for Montreal leaves when?" he asked. 

"In twenty minutes, " said the man. 

He bought two tickets and Pullman berths. Then he hastened back toCarrie. 

"We go right out again, " he said, scarcely noticing that Carrie lookedtired and weary. 

"I wish I was out of all this, " she exclaimed gloomily. 

"You'll feel better when we reach Montreal, " he said. 

"I haven't an earthly thing with me, " said Carrie; "not even ahandkerchief. "

"You can buy all you want as soon as you get there, dearest, " heexplained. "You can call in a dressmaker. "

Now the crier called the train ready and they got on. Hurstwoodbreathed a sigh of relief as it started. There was a short run to theriver, and there they were ferried over. They had barely pulled thetrain off the ferry-boat when he settled back with a sigh. 

"It won't be so very long now, " he said, remembering her in his relief. "We get there the first thing in the morning. "

Carrie scarcely deigned to reply. 

"I'll see if there is a dining-car, " he added. "I'm hungry. "

Chapter XXIXTHE SOLACE OF TRAVEL--THE BOATS OF THE SEA

 To the untraveled, territory other than their own familiar heath isinvariably fascinating. Next to love, it is the one thing whichsolaces and delights. Things new are too important to be neglected, and mind, which is a mere reflection of sensory impressions, succumbsto the flood of objects. Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows laidaside, death hidden from view. There is a world of accumulated feelingback of the trite dramatic expression--"I am going away. "

As Carrie looked out upon the flying scenery she almost forgot that shehad been tricked into this long journey against her will and that shewas without the necessary apparel for traveling. She quite forgotHurstwood's presence at times, and looked away to homely farmhouses andcozy cottages in villages with wondering eyes. It was an interestingworld to her. Her life had just begun. She did not feel herselfdefeated at all. Neither was she blasted in hope. The great city heldmuch. Possibly she would come out of bondage into freedom--who knows?Perhaps she would be happy. These thoughts raised her above the levelof erring. She was saved in that she was hopeful. 

The following morning the train pulled safely into Montreal and theystepped down, Hurstwood glad to be out of danger, Carrie wondering atthe novel atmosphere of the northern city. Long before, Hurstwood hadbeen here, and now he remembered the name of the hotel at which he hadstopped. As they came out of the main entrance of the depot he heardit called anew by a busman. 

"We'll go right up and get rooms, " he said. 

At the clerk's office Hurstwood swung the register about while theclerk came forward. He was thinking what name he would put down. Withthe latter before him he found no time for hesitation. A name he hadseen out of the car window came swiftly to him. It was pleasingenough. With an easy hand he wrote, "G. W. Murdock and wife. " It wasthe largest concession to necessity he felt like making. His initialshe could not spare. 

When they were shown their room Carrie saw at once that he had securedher a lovely chamber. 

"You have a bath there, " said he. "Now you can clean up when you getready. "

Carrie went over and looked out the window, while Hurstwood looked athimself in the glass. He felt dusty and unclean. He had no trunk, nochange of linen, not even a hair-brush. 

"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 ashave and come back and get you, and then we'll go out and look forsome clothes for you. "

He smiled good-naturedly as he said this. 

"All right, " said Carrie. 

She sat down in one of the rocking-chairs, while Hurstwood waited forthe boy, who soon knocked. 

"Soap, towels, and a pitcher of ice-water. "

"Yes, sir. "

"I'll go now, " he said to Carrie, coming toward her and holding out hishands, but she did not move to take them. 

"You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked softly. 

"Oh, no!" she answered, rather indifferently. 

"Don't you care for me at all?"

She made no answer, but looked steadily toward the window. 

"Don't you think you could love me a little?" he pleaded, taking one ofher hands, which she endeavored to draw away. "You once said you did. "

"What made you deceive me so?" asked Carrie. 

"I couldn't help it, " he said, "I wanted you too much. "

"You didn't have any right to want me, " she answered, striking cleanlyhome. 

"Oh, well, Carrie, " he answered, "here I am. It's too late now. Won'tyou try and care for me a little?"

He looked rather worsted in thought as he stood before her. 

She shook her head negatively. 

"Let me start all over again. Be my wife from to-day on. "

Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. Now he slippedhis arm about her and she struggled, but in vain. He held her quiteclose. Instantly there flamed up in his body the all compellingdesire. His affection took an ardent form. 

"Let me go, " said Carrie, who was folded close to him. 

"Won't you love me?" he said. "Won't you be mine from now on?"

Carrie had never been ill-disposed toward him. Only a moment beforeshe had been listening with some complacency, remembering her oldaffection for him. He was so handsome, so daring!

Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of opposition, which rosefeebly. 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 bosomshe was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, andshe was alone. If she did not turn to him--accept of his love--whereelse might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of hisstrong feeling. 

She found him lifting her head and looking into her eyes. Whatmagnetism there was she could never know. His many sins, however, werefor the moment all forgotten. 

He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt that furtheropposition was useless. 

"Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting how. 

"This very day, " he said, with all delight. 

Now the hall-boy pounded on the door and he released his hold upon herregretfully. 

"You get ready now, will you, " he said, "at once?"

"Yes, " she answered. 

"I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour. "

Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he admitted the boy. 

Below stairs, he halted in the lobby to look for a barber shop. For themoment, he was in fine feather. His recent victory over Carrie seemedto atone for much he had endured during the last few days. Life seemedworth fighting for. This eastward flight from all things customary andattached seemed as if it might have happiness in store. The stormshowed a rainbow at the end of which might be a pot of gold. 

He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which wasfastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly his heart sank. "Why, hello, George, old man!" said thevoice. "What are you doing down here?"

Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognized his friend Kenny, thestock-broker. 

"Just attending to a little private matter, " he answered, his mindworking like a key-board of a telephone station. This man evidentlydid not know--he had not read the papers. 

"Well, it seems strange to see you way up here, " said Mr. Kennygenially. "Stopping here?"

"Yes, " said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his handwriting on theregister. 

"Going to be in town long?"

"No, only a day or so. "

"Is that so? Had your breakfast?"

"Yes, " said Hurstwood, lying blandly. "I'm just going for a shave. "

"Won't you come have a drink?"

"Not until afterwards, " said the ex-manager. "I'll see you later. Areyou stopping here?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Kenny, and then, turning the word again added: "How arethings out in Chicago?"

"About the same as usual, " said Hurstwood, smiling genially. 

"Wife with you?"

"No. "

"Well, I must see more of you to-day. I'm just going in here forbreakfast. Come in when you're through. "

"I will, " said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole conversation was atrial to him. It seemed to add complications with very word. This mancalled up a thousand memories. He represented everything he had left. Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort-all these were in his greetingand inquiries. And here he was in this same hotel expecting to conferwith him, unquestionably waiting to have a good time with him. All atonce the Chicago papers would arrive. The local papers would haveaccounts in them this very day. He forgot his triumph with Carrie inthe possibility of soon being known for what he was, in this man'seyes, a safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went into the barbershop. He decided to escape and seek a more secluded hotel. 

Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see the lobby clear, andhastened toward the stairs. He would get Carrie and go out by theladies' entrance. They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuousplace. 

Across the lobby, however, another individual was surveying him. He wasof a commonplace Irish type, small of stature, cheaply dressed, andwith a head that seemed a smaller edition of some huge wardpolitician's. This individual had been evidently talking with theclerk, but now he surveyed the ex-manager keenly. 

Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and recognized the type. Instinctively he felt that the man was a detective--that he was beingwatched. He hurried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mindwas a world of thoughts. What would happen now? What could thesepeople do? He began to trouble concerning the extradition laws. He didnot understand them absolutely. Perhaps he could be arrested. Oh, ifCarrie should find out! Montreal was too warm for him. He began tolong to be out of it. 

Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he arrived. She lookedrefreshed--more delightful than ever, but reserved. Since he had goneshe had resumed somewhat of her cold attitude towards him. Love was notblazing in her heart. He felt it, and his troubles seemed increased. He could not take her in his arms; he did not even try. Somethingabout her forbade it. In part his opinion was the result of his ownexperiences and reflections below stairs. 

"You're ready, are you?" he said kindly. 

"Yes, " she answered. 

"We'll go out for breakfast. This place down here doesn't appeal to mevery much. "

"All right, " said Carrie. 

They went out, and at the corner the commonplace Irish individual wasstanding, eyeing him. Hurstwood could scarcely refrain from showingthat he knew of this chap's presence. The insolence in the fellow'seye was galling. Still they passed, and he explained to Carrieconcerning the city. Another restaurant was not long in showingitself, and here they entered. 

"What a queer town this is, " said Carrie, who marveled at it solelybecause it was not like Chicago. 

"It Isn't as lively as Chicago, " said Hurstwood. "Don't you like it?"

"No, " said Carrie, whose feelings were already localized in the greatWestern city. 

"Well, it isn't as interesting, " said Hurstwood. 

"What's here?" asked Carrie, wondering at his choosing to visit thistown. 

"Nothing much, " returned Hurstwood. "It's quite a resort. There's somepretty scenery about here. "

Carrie listened, but with a feeling of unrest. There was much abouther situation which destroyed the possibility of appreciation. 

"We won't stay here long, " said Hurstwood, who was now really glad tonote her dissatisfaction. "You pick out your clothes as soon asbreakfast is over and we'll run down to New York soon. You'll likethat. It's a lot more like a city than any place outside Chicago. "

He was really planning to slip out and away. He would see what thesedetectives 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 andpossibilities of mystification were infinite. 

The more he thought, however, the more wretched his situation became. He saw that getting here did not exactly clear up the ground. The firmwould probably employ detectives to watch him-Pinkerton men or agentsof Mooney and Boland. They might arrest him the moment he tried toleave Canada. So he might be compelled to remain here months, and inwhat a state!

Back at the hotel Hurstwood was anxious and yet fearful to see themorning papers. He wanted to know how far the news of his criminaldeed 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 suspiciousfaces were about, and yet he did not like reading in the lobby, so hesought the main parlor on the floor above and, seated by a windowthere, looked them over. Very little was given to his crime, but itwas there, several "sticks" in all, among all the riffraff oftelegraphed murders, accidents, marriages, and other news. He wished, half sadly, that he could undo it all. Every moment of his time inthis far-off abode of safety but added to his feeling that he had madea great mistake. There could have been an easier way out if he had onlyknown. 

He left the papers before going to the room, thinking thus to keep themout of the hands of Carrie. 

"Well, how are you feeling?" he asked of her. She was engaged inlooking out of the window. 

"Oh, all right, " she answered. 

He came over, and was about to begin a conversation with her, when aknock came at their door. 

"Maybe it's one of my parcels, " said Carrie. 

Hurstwood opened the door, outside of which stood the individual whomhe had so thoroughly suspected. 

"You're Mr. Hurstwood, are you?" said the latter, with a volume ofaffected shrewdness and assurance. 

"Yes, " said Hurstwood calmly. He knew the type so thoroughly that someof his old familiar indifference to it returned. Such men as thesewere of the lowest stratum welcomed at the resort. He stepped out andclosed the door. 

"Well, you know what I am here for, don't you?" said the manconfidentially. 

"I can guess, " said Hurstwood softly. 

"Well, do you intend to try and keep the money?"

"That's my affair, " said Hurstwood grimly. 

"You can't do it, you know, " said the detective, eyeing him coolly. 

"Look here, my man, " said Hurstwood authoritatively, "you don'tunderstand 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'llhave to excuse me. " "Well, now, there's no use of your talking thatway, " said the man, "when you're in the hands of the police. We canmake a lot of trouble for you if we want to. You're not registeredright in this house, you haven't got your wife with you, and thenewspapers don't know you're here yet. You might as well bereasonable. "

"What do you want to know?" asked Hurstwood. 

"Whether you're going to send back that money or not. "

Hurstwood paused and studied the floor. 

"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 justwhat you can do and what you can't. You can create a lot of trouble ifyou want to. I know that all right, but it won't help you to get themoney. Now, I've made up my mind what to do. I've already writtenFitzgerald and Moy, so there's nothing I can say. You wait until youhear more from them. "

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 nearthe end where the corridor opened into the large general parlor. 

"You won't give it up?" said the man. 

The words irritated Hurstwood greatly. Hot blood poured into hisbrain. Many thoughts formulated themselves. He was no thief. Hedidn't want the money. If he could only explain to Fitzgerald and Moy, maybe it would be all right again. 

"See here, " he said, "there's no use my talking about this at all. Irespect your power all right, but I'll have to deal with the people whoknow. "

"Well, you can't get out of Canada with it, " said the man. 

"I don't want to get out, " said Hurstwood. "When I get ready there'llbe nothing to stop me for. "

He turned back, and the detective watched him closely. It seemed anintolerable thing. Still he went on and into the room. 

"Who was it?" asked Carrie. 

"A friend of mine from Chicago. "

The whole of this conversation was such a shock that, coming as it didafter all the other worry of the past week, it sufficed to induce adeep gloom and moral revulsion in Hurstwood. What hurt him most wasthe fact that he was being pursued as a thief. He began to see thenature of that social injustice which sees but one side--often but asingle point in a long tragedy. All the newspapers noted but onething, his taking the money. How and wherefore were but indifferentlydealt with. All the complications which led up to it were unknown. Hewas accused without being understood. 

Sitting in his room with Carrie the same day, he decided to send themoney back. He would write Fitzgerald and Moy, explain all, and thensend it by express. Maybe they would forgive him. Perhaps they wouldask him back. He would make good the false statement he had made aboutwriting them. Then he would leave this peculiar town. 

For an hour he thought over this plausible statement of the tangle. Hewanted to tell them about his wife, but couldn't. He finally narrowedit down to an assertion that he was light-headed from entertainingfriends, had found the safe open, and having gone so far as to take themoney 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 hecould by sending the money back--the major portion of it. Theremainder he would pay up as soon as he could. Was there anypossibility of his being restored? This he only hinted at. 

The troubled state of the man's mind may be judged by the veryconstruction of this letter. For the nonce he forgot what a painfulthing 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, andthat if he did manage to in some way reunite himself with it, thejagged line of separation and reunion would always show. He was alwaysforgetting something-his wife, Carrie, his need of money, presentsituation, or something--and so did not reason clearly. Nevertheless, he sent the letter, waiting a reply before sending the money. 

Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with Carrie, getting whatjoy out of it he could. 

Out came the sun by noon, and poured a golden flood through their openwindows. Sparrows were twittering. There were laughter and song inthe air. Hurstwood could not keep his eyes from Carrie. She seemed theone ray of sunshine in all his trouble. Oh, if she would only love himwholly--only throw her arms around him in the blissful spirit in whichhe 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. Hewould not care. 

"Carrie, " he said, getting up once and coming over to her, "are yougoing to stay with me from now on?"

She looked at him quizzically, but melted with sympathy as the value ofthe look upon his face forced itself upon her. It was love now, keenand strong--love enhanced by difficulty and worry. She could not helpsmiling. 

"Let me be everything to you from now on, " he said. "Don't make meworry any more. I'll be true to you. We'll go to New York and get anice flat. I'll go into business again, and we'll be happy. Won't yoube mine?"

Carrie listened quite solemnly. There was no great passion in her, butthe drift of things and this man's proximity created a semblance ofaffection. She felt rather sorry for him--a sorrow born of what hadonly recently been a great admiration. True love she had never feltfor him. She would have known as much if she could have analyzed herfeelings, but this thing which she now felt aroused by his greatfeeling broke down the barriers between them. 

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" he asked. 

"Yes, " she said, nodding her head. 

He gathered her to himself, imprinting kisses upon her lips and cheeks. 

"You must marry me, though, " she said. "I'll get a license to-day, " heanswered. 

"How?" she asked. 

"Under a new name, " he answered. "I'll take a new name and live a newlife. From now on I'm Murdock. "

"Oh, don't take that name, " said Carrie. 

"Why not?" he said. 

"I don't like it. "

"Well, what shall I take?" he asked. 

"Oh, anything, only don't take that. "

He thought a while, still keeping his arms about her, and then said:

"How would Wheeler do?"

"That's all right, " said Carrie. 

"Well, then, Wheeler, " he said. "I'll get the license this afternoon. "

They were married by a Baptist minister, the first divine they foundconvenient. 

At last the Chicago firm answered. It was by Mr. Moy's dictation. Hewas astonished that Hurstwood had done this; very sorry that it hadcome about as it had. If the money were returned, they would nottrouble to prosecute him, as they really bore him no ill-will. As forhis returning, or their restoring him to his former position, they hadnot quite decided what the effect of it would be. They would think itover and correspond with him later, possibly, after a little time, andso on. 

The sum and substance of it was that there was no hope, and they wantedthe 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. Hewas slightly depressed over this newest move at the time he began tomake it, but eventually restored himself. He feared that even yet hemight be seized and taken back, so he tried to conceal his movements, but it was scarcely possible. He ordered Carrie's trunk sent to thedepot, where he had it sent by express to New York. No one seemed tobe observing him, but he left at night. He was greatly agitated lestat the first station across the border or at the depot in New Yorkthere should be waiting for him an officer of the law. 

Carrie, ignorant of his theft and his fears, enjoyed the entry into thelatter city in the morning. The round green hills sentineling thebroad, expansive bosom of the Hudson held her attention by their beautyas the train followed the line of the stream. She had heard of theHudson River, the great city of New York, and now she looked out, filling her mind with the wonder of it. 

As the train turned east at Spuyten Duyvil and followed the east bankof the Harlem River, Hurstwood nervously called her attention to thefact that they were on the edge of the city. After her experience withChicago, she expected long lines of cars--a great highway of tracks--and noted the difference. The sight of a few boats in the Harlem andmore in the East River tickled her young heart. It was the first signof the great sea. Next came a plain street with five-story brick flats, and then the train plunged into the tunnel. 

"Grand Central Station!" called the trainman, as, after a few minutesof darkness and smoke, daylight reappeared. Hurstwood arose andgathered up his small grip. He was screwed up to the highest tension. With Carrie he waited at the door and then dismounted. No oneapproached him, but he glanced furtively to and fro as he made for thestreet entrance. So excited was he that he forgot all about Carrie, who fell behind, wondering at his self-absorption. As he passedthrough the depot proper the strain reached its climax and began towane. All at once he was on the sidewalk, and none but cabmen hailedhim. He heaved a great breath and turned, remembering Carrie. 

"I thought you were going to run off and leave me, " she said. 

"I was trying to remember which car takes us to the Gilsey, " heanswered. 

Carrie hardly heard him, so interested was she in the busy scene. 

"How large is New York?" she asked. 

"Oh a million or more, " said Hurstwood. 

He looked around and hailed a cab, but he did so in a changed way. 

For the first time in years the thought that he must count these littleexpenses flashed through his mind. It was a disagreeable thing. 

He decided he would lose no time living in hotels but would rent aflat. Accordingly he told Carrie, and she agreed. 

"We'll look to-day, if you want to, " she said. 

Suddenly he thought of his experience in Montreal. At the moreimportant hotels he would be certain to meet Chicagoans whom he knew. He stood up and spoke to the driver. 

"Take me to the Belford, " he said, knowing it to be less frequented bythose whom he knew. Then he sat down. 

"Where is the residence part?" asked Carrie, who did not take the tallfive-story walls on either hand to be the abodes of families. 

"Everywhere, " said Hurstwood, who knew the city fairly well. "There areno lawns in New York. All these are houses. "

"Well, then, I don't like it, " said Carrie, who was coming to have afew opinions of her own. 

Chapter XXXTHE KINGDOM OF GREATNESS--THE PILGRIM A DREAM

Whatever a man like Hurstwood could be in Chicago, it is very evidentthat he would be but an inconspicuous drop in an ocean like New York. In Chicago, whose population still ranged about 500, 000, millionaireswere not numerous. The rich had not become so conspicuously rich as todrown all moderate incomes in obscurity. The attention of theinhabitants was not so distracted by local celebrities in the dramatic, artistic, social, and religious fields as to shut the well-positionedman from view. In Chicago the two roads to distinction were politicsand trade. In New York the roads were any one of a half-hundred, andeach had been diligently pursued by hundreds, so that celebrities werenumerous. The sea was already full of whales. A common fish must needsdisappear wholly from view--remain unseen. In other words, Hurstwoodwas nothing. 

There is a more subtle result of such a situation as this, which, though not always taken into account, produces the tragedies of theworld. The great create an atmosphere which reacts badly upon thesmall. This atmosphere is easily and quickly felt. Walk among themagnificent residences, the splendid equipages, the gilded shops, restaurants, resorts of all kinds; scent the flowers, the silks, thewines; drink of the laughter springing from the soul of luxuriouscontent, of the glances which gleam like light from defiant spears;feel the quality of the smiles which cut like glistening swords and ofstrides born of place, and you shall know of what is the atmosphere ofthe high and mighty. Little use to argue that of such is not thekingdom of greatness, but so long as the world is attracted by this andthe human heart views this as the one desirable realm which it mustattain, so long, to that heart, will this remain the realm ofgreatness. So long, also, will the atmosphere of this realm work itsdesperate 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 discolorthe views, the aims, the desire of the mind, that it will thereafterremain forever dyed. A day of it to the untried mind is like opium tothe untried body. A craving is set up which, if gratified, shalleternally 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 blindto nature's heart. 

A man of Hurstwood's age and temperament is not subject to theillusions and burning desires of youth, but neither has he the strengthof hope which gushes as a fountain in the heart of youth. Such anatmosphere 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 themproportionately bitter. He could not fail to notice the signs ofaffluence and luxury on every hand. He had been to New York before andknew the resources of its folly. In part it was an awesome place tohim, for here gathered all that he most respected on this earth--wealth, place, and fame. The majority of the celebrities with whom hehad tipped glasses in his day as manager hailed from this self-centeredand populous spot. The most inviting stories of pleasure and luxuryhad been told of places and individuals here. He knew it to be truethat unconsciously he was brushing elbows with fortune the livelongday; that a hundred or five hundred thousand gave no one the privilegeof living more than comfortably in so wealthy a place. Fashion and pomprequired more ample sums, so that the poor man was nowhere. All thishe realized, now quite sharply, as he faced the city, cut off from hisfriends, despoiled of his modest fortune, and even his name, and forcedto begin the battle for place and comfort all over again. He was notold, 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 onpeculiar significance. It was emphasized by contrast with his owndistressing state. 

And it was distressing. He soon found that freedom from fear of arrestwas not the sine qua non of his existence. That danger dissolved, thenext necessity became the grievous thing. The paltry sum of thirteenhundred and some odd dollars set against the need of rent, clothing, food, and pleasure for years to come was a spectacle little calculatedto induce peace of mind in one who had been accustomed to spend fivetimes that sum in the course of a year. He thought upon the subjectrather actively the first few days he was in New York, and decided thathe must act quickly. As a consequence, he consulted the businessopportunities advertised in the morning papers and began investigationson his own account. 

That was not before he had become settled, however. Carrie and he wentlooking for a flat, as arranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Streetnear Amsterdam Avenue. It was a five-story building, and their flatwas on the third floor. Owing to the fact that the street was not yetbuilt up solidly, it was possible to see east to the green tops of thetrees in Central Park and west to the broad waters of the Hudson, aglimpse of which was to be had out of the west windows. For theprivilege of six rooms and a bath, running in a straight line, theywere compelled to pay thirty-five dollars a month--an average, and yetexorbitant, rent for a home at the time. Carrie noticed the differencebetween the size of the rooms here and in Chicago and mentioned it. 

"You'll not find anything better, dear, " said Hurstwood, "unless you gointo one of the old-fashioned houses, and then you won't have any ofthese conveniences. "

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, whichwas a great advantage. The stationary range, hot and cold water, dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for the janitor pleased her verymuch. She had enough of the instincts of a housewife to take greatsatisfaction in these things. 

Hurstwood made arrangements with one of the installment houses wherebythey furnished the flat complete and accepted fifty dollars down andten 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. Itsounded exceedingly odd to Carrie to be called Mrs. Wheeler by thejanitor, but in time she became used to it and looked upon the name asher own. 

These house details settled, Hurstwood visited some of the advertisedopportunities to purchase an interest in some flourishing down-townbar. After the palatial resort in Adams Street, he could not stomachthe commonplace saloons which he found advertised. He lost a number ofdays looking up these and finding them disagreeable. He did, however, gain considerable knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influenceof Tammany Hall and the value of standing in with the police. The mostprofitable and flourishing places he found to be those which conductedanything but a legitimate business, such as that controlled byFitzgerald and Moy. Elegant back rooms and private drinking booths onthe second floor were usually adjuncts of very profitable places. Hesaw by portly keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, and whose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor business here, aselsewhere, yielded the same golden profit. At last he found anindividual who had a resort in Warren Street, and susceptible ofimprovement. The owner claimed the business to be excellent, and itcertainly looked so. 

"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. "

Hurstwood listened to the cash-register ring, and watched the trade fora while. 

"It's profitable enough for two, is it?" he asked. 

"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 otheris down in Nassau Street. I can't tend to them both alone. If I hadsome one who knew the business thoroughly I wouldn't mind sharing withhim in this one and letting him manage it. "

"I've had experience enough, " said Hurstwood blandly, but he felt alittle diffident about referring to Fitzgerald and Moy. 

"Well, you can suit yourself, Mr. Wheeler, " said the proprietor. 

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 thepart of the one who should come in. There was no property involved, because the owner of the saloon merely rented from an estate. 

The offer was genuine enough, but it was a question with Hurstwoodwhether a third interest in that locality could be made to yield onehundred and fifty dollars a month, which he figured he must have inorder to meet the ordinary family expenses and be comfortable. It wasnot the time, however, after many failures to find what he wanted, tohesitate. 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 histhousand dollars, preparing to enter the next day. 

His first inclination was to be elated, and he confided to Carrie thathe thought he had made an excellent arrangement. Time, however, introduced food for reflection. He found his partner to be verydisagreeable. Frequently he was the worse for liquor, which made himsurly. This was the last thing which Hurstwood was used to inbusiness. Besides, the business varied. It was nothing like the classof patronage which he had enjoyed in Chicago. He found that it wouldtake a long time to make friends. These people hurried in and outwithout seeking the pleasures of friendship. It was no gathering orlounging place. Whole days and weeks passed without one such heartygreeting as he had been wont to enjoy every day in Chicago. 

For another thing, Hurstwood missed the celebrities--those welldressed, elite individuals who lend grace to the average bars and bringnews from far-off and exclusive circles. He did not see one such in amonth. Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally read inthe evening papers incidents concerning celebrities whom he knew--whomhe had drunk a glass with many a time. They would visit a bar likeFitzgerald and Moy's in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, uptown, but heknew that he would never see them down here. Again, the business didnot pay as well as he thought. It increased a little, but he found hewould have to watch his household expenses, which was humiliating. 

In the very beginning it was a delight to go home late at night, as hedid, and find Carrie. He managed to run up and take dinner with herbetween six and seven, and to remain home until nine o'clock in themorning, but the novelty of this waned after a time, and he began tofeel the drag of his duties. 

The first month had scarcely passed before Carrie said in a verynatural way: "I think I'll go down this week and buy a dress. '

"What kind?" said Hurstwood. 

"Oh, something for street wear. "

"All right, " he answered, smiling, although he noted mentally that itwould be more agreeable to his finances if she didn't. Nothing was saidabout it the next day, but the following morning he asked:

"Have you done anything about your dress?"

"Not yet, " said Carrie. 

He paused a few moments, as if in thought, and then said:

"Would you mind putting it off a few days?"

"No, " replied Carrie, who did not catch the drift of his remarks. Shehad never thought of him in connection with money troubles before. "Why?"

"Well, I'll tell you, " said Hurstwood. "This investment of mine istaking a lot of money just now. I expect to get it all back shortly, but just at present I am running close. "

"Oh!" answered Carrie. "Why, certainly, dear. Why didn't you tell mebefore?"

"It wasn't necessary, " said Hurstwood. 

For all her acquiescence, there was something about the way Hurstwoodspoke which reminded Carrie of Drouet and his little deal which he wasalways about to put through. It was only the thought of a second, butit was a beginning. It was something new in her thinking of Hurstwood. 

Other things followed from time to time, little things of the samesort, which in their cumulative effect were eventually equal to a fullrevelation. Carrie was not dull by any means. Two persons cannot longdwell together without coming to an understanding of one another. Themental difficulties of an individual reveal themselves whether hevoluntarily confesses them or not. Trouble gets in the air andcontributes gloom, which speaks for itself. Hurstwood dressed asnicely as usual, but they were the same clothes he had in Canada. Carrie noticed that he did not install a large wardrobe, though his ownwas anything but large. She noticed, also, that he did not suggestmany amusements, said nothing about the food, seemed concerned abouthis business. This was not the easy Hurstwood of Chicago-not theliberal, opulent Hurstwood she had known. The change was too obviousto escape detection. 

In time she began to feel that a change had come about, and that shewas not in his confidence. He was evidently secretive and kept his owncounsel. She found herself asking him questions about little things. This is a disagreeable state to a woman. Great love makes it seemreasonable, sometimes plausible, but never satisfactory. Where greatlove is not, a more definite and less satisfactory conclusion isreached. 

As for Hurstwood, he was making a great fight against the difficultiesof a changed condition. He was too shrewd not to realize thetremendous mistake he had made, and appreciate that he had done well ingetting where he was, and yet he could not help contrasting his presentstate with his former, hour after hour, and day after day. 

Besides, he had the disagreeable fear of meeting old-time friends, eversince one such encounter which he made shortly after his arrival in thecity. It was in Broadway that he saw a man approaching him whom heknew. There was no time for simulating non-recognition. The exchangeof glances had been too sharp, the knowledge of each other tooapparent. So the friend, a buyer for one of the Chicago wholesalehouses, felt, perforce, the necessity of stopping. 

"How are you?" he said, extending his hand with an evident mixture offeeling and a lack of plausible interest. 

"Very well, " said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed. "How is it withyou?"

"All right; I'm down here doing a little buying. Are you located herenow?"

"Yes, " said Hurstwood, "I have a place down in Warren Street. "

"Is that so?" said the friend. "Glad to hear it. I'll come down andsee you. "

"Do, " said Hurstwood. 

"So long, " said the other, smiling affably and going on. 

"He never asked for my number, " thought Hurstwood; "he wouldn't thinkof coming. " He wiped his forehead, which had grown damp, and hopedsincerely he would meet no one else. 

These things told upon his good-nature, such as it was. His one hopewas that things would change for the better in a money way. 

He had Carrie. His furniture was being paid for. He was maintaininghis position. As for Carrie, the amusements he could give her wouldhave to do for the present. He could probably keep up his pretensionssufficiently long without exposure to make good, and then all would bewell. He failed therein to take account of the frailties of humannature--the difficulties of matrimonial life. Carrie was young. Withhim and with her varying mental states were common. At any moment theextremes of feeling might be anti-polarized at the dinner table. Thisoften happens in the best regulated families. Little things broughtout on such occasions need great love to obliterate them afterward. Where that is not, both parties count two and two and make a problemafter a while. 

Chapter XXXIA PET OF GOOD FORTUNE--BROADWAY FLAUNTS ITS JOYS

 The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurstwood wasparalleled in the case of Carrie, who accepted the things which fortuneprovided with the most genial good-nature. New York, despite her firstexpression of disapproval, soon interested her exceedingly. Its clearatmosphere, more populous thoroughfares, and peculiar indifferencestruck her forcibly. She had never seen such a little flat as hers, and yet it soon enlisted her affection. The new furniture made anexcellent showing, the sideboard which Hurstwood himself arrangedgleamed brightly. The furniture for each room was appropriate, and inthe so-called parlor, or front room, was installed a piano, becauseCarrie said she would like to learn to play. She kept a servant anddeveloped rapidly in household tactics and information. For the firsttime in her life she felt settled, and somewhat justified in the eyesof society as she conceived of it. Her thoughts were merry andinnocent enough. For a long while she concerned herself over thearrangement of New York flats, and wondered at ten families living inone building and all remaining strange and indifferent to each other. She also marveled at the whistles of the hundreds of vessels in theharbor--the long, low cries of the Sound steamers and ferry-boats whenfog was on. The mere fact that these things spoke from the sea madethem wonderful. She looked much at what she could see of the Hudsonfrom her west windows and of the great city building up rapidly oneither hand. It was much to ponder over, and sufficed to entertain herfor more than a year without becoming stale. 

For another thing, Hurstwood was exceedingly interesting in hisaffection for her. Troubled as he was, he never exposed hisdifficulties to her. He carried himself with the same self-importantair, took his new state with easy familiarity, and rejoiced in Carrie'sproclivities and successes. Each evening he arrived promptly todinner, and found the little dining-room a most inviting spectacle. Ina way, the smallness of the room added to its luxury. It looked fulland replete. The white covered table was arrayed with pretty dishesand lighted with a four-armed candelabra, each light of which wastopped with a red shade. Between Carrie and the girl the steaks andchops came out all right, and canned goods did the rest for a while. Carrie studied the art of making biscuit, and soon reached the stagewhere she could show a plate of light, palatable morsels for her labor. 

In this manner the second, third, and fourth months passed. Wintercame, and with it a feeling that indoors was best, so that theattending of theatres was not much talked of. Hurstwood made greatefforts to meet all expenditures without a show of feeling one way orthe other. He pretended that he was reinvesting his money instrengthening the business for greater ends in the future. Hecontented himself with a very moderate allowance of personal apparel, and rarely suggested anything for Carrie. Thus the first winterpassed. 

In the second year, the business which Hurstwood managed did increasesomewhat. He got out of it regularly the $150 per month which he hadanticipated. Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certainconclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaintances. 

Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active and aggressivenature, Carrie accepted the situation. Her state seemed satisfactoryenough. Once in a while they would go to a theatre together, occasionally in season to the beaches and different points about thecity, but they picked up no acquaintances. Hurstwood naturallyabandoned his show of fine manners with her and modified his attitudeto one of easy familiarity. There were no misunderstandings, noapparent differences of opinion. In fact, without money or visitingfriends, he led a life which could neither arouse jealousy nor comment. Carrie rather sympathized with his efforts and thought nothing upon herlack of entertainment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago. New York asa corporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed sufficient. 

However, as Hurstwood's business increased, he, as stated, began topick up acquaintances. He also began to allow himself more clothes. He convinced himself that his home life was very precious to him, butallowed that he could occasionally stay away from dinner. The firsttime he did this he sent a message saying that he would be detained. Carrie ate alone, and wished that it might not happen again. Thesecond time, also, he sent word, but at the last moment. The thirdtime he forgot entirely and explained afterwards. These events weremonths apart, each. 

"Where were you, George?" asked Carrie, after the first absence. 

"Tied up at the office, " he said genially. "There were some accounts Ihad to straighten. "

"I'm sorry you couldn't get home, " she said kindly. "I was fixing tohave such a nice dinner. "

The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the third time thefeeling about it in Carrie's mind was a little bit out of the ordinary. 

"I couldn't get home, " he said, when he came in later in the evening, "I was so busy. "

"Couldn't you have sent me word?" asked Carrie. 

"I meant to, " he said, "but you know I forgot it until it was too lateto do any good. "

"And I had such a good dinner!" said Carrie. 

Now, it so happened that from his observations of Carrie he began toimagine that she was of the thoroughly domestic type of mind. He reallythought, after a year, that her chief expression in life was findingits natural channel in household duties. Notwithstanding the fact thathe had observed her act in Chicago, and that during the past year hehad only seen her limited in her relations to her flat and him byconditions which he made, and that she had not gained any friends orassociates, he drew this peculiar conclusion. With it came a feelingof satisfaction in having a wife who could thus be content, and thissatisfaction worked its natural result. That is, since he imagined hesaw her satisfied, he felt called upon to give only that whichcontributed to such satisfaction. He supplied the furniture, thedecorations, the food, and the necessary clothing. Thoughts ofentertaining her, leading her out into the shine and show of life, grewless and less. He felt attracted to the outer world, but did not thinkshe 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 gameof poker. Since his money-feathers were beginning to grow again hefelt like sprucing about. All this, however, in a much less imposingway than had been his wont in Chicago. He avoided the gay places wherehe would be apt to meet those who had known him. Now, Carrie began tofeel this in various sensory ways. She was not the kind to beseriously disturbed by his actions. Not loving him greatly, she couldnot be jealous in a disturbing way. In fact, she was not jealous atall. Hurstwood was pleased with her placid manner, when he should haveduly considered it. When he did not come home it did not seem anythinglike a terrible thing to her. She gave him credit for having the usualallurements of men--people to talk to, places to stop, friends toconsult with. She was perfectly willing that he should enjoy himselfin his way, but she did not care to be neglected herself. Her statestill seemed fairly reasonable, however. All she did observe was thatHurstwood was somewhat different. 

Some time in the second year of their residence in Seventy-eighthStreet the flat across the hall from Carrie became vacant, and into itmoved a very handsome young woman and her husband, with both of whomCarrie afterwards became acquainted. This was brought about solely bythe arrangement of the flats, which were united in one place, as itwere, by the dumb-waiter. This useful elevator, by which fuel, groceries, and the like were sent up from the basement, and garbage andwaste sent down, was used by both residents of one floor; that is, asmall door opened into it from each flat. 

If the occupants of both flats answered to the whistle of the janitorat the same time, they would stand face to face when they opened thedumb-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 was in a night-robe and dressing-gown, with her hair very much tousled, but she looked so pretty andgood-natured that Carrie instantly conceived a liking for her. Thenewcomer did no more than smile shamefacedly, but it was sufficient. Carrie felt that she would like to know her, and a similar feelingstirred in the mind of the other, who admired Carrie's innocent face. 

"That's a real pretty woman who has moved in next door, " said Carrie toHurstwood at the breakfast table. 

"Who are they?" asked Hurstwood. 

"I don't know, " said Carrie. "The name on the bell is Vance. Some oneover there plays beautifully. I guess it must be she. "

"Well, you never can tell what sort of people you're living next to inthis town, can you?" said Hurstwood, expressing the customary New Yorkopinion about neighbors. 

"Just think, " said Carrie, "I have been in this house with nine otherfamilies for over a year and I don't know a soul. These people havebeen here over a month and I haven't seen any one before this morning. "

"It's just as well, " said Hurstwood. 'You never know who you're goingto get in with. Some of these people are pretty bad company. "

"I expect so, " said Carrie, agreeably. 

The conversation turned to other things, and Carrie thought no moreupon the subject until a day or two later, when, going out to market, she encountered Mrs. Vance coming in. The latter recognized her andnodded, for which Carrie returned a smile. This settled the probabilityof acquaintanceship. If there had been no faint recognition on thisoccasion, there would have been no future association. 

Carrie saw no more of Mrs. Vance for several weeks, but she heard herplay through the thin walls which divided the front rooms of the flats, and was pleased by the merry selection of pieces and the brilliance oftheir rendition. She could play only moderately herself, and suchvariety as Mrs. Vance exercised bordered, for Carrie, upon the verge ofgreat art. Everything she had seen and heard thus far--the merestscraps and shadows-indicated that these people were, in a measure, refined and in comfortable circumstances. So Carrie was ready for anyextension of the friendship which might follow. 

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 entranceon the ground floor to be electrically unlatched. When Carrie waitedat her own door on the third floor to see who it might be coming up tocall on her, Mrs. Vance appeared. 

"I hope you'll excuse me, " she said. "I went out a while ago andforgot my outside key, so I thought I'd ring your bell. "

This was a common trick of other residents of the building, wheneverthey had forgotten their outside keys. They did not apologize for it, however. 

"Certainly, " said Carrie. "I'm glad you did. I do the same thingsometimes. "

"Isn't it just delightful weather?" said Mrs. Vance, pausing for amoment. 

Thus, after a few more preliminaries, this visiting acquaintance waswell launched, and in the young Mrs. Vance Carrie found an agreeablecompanion. 

On several occasions Carrie visited her and was visited. Both flatswere good to look upon, though that of the Vances tended somewhat moreto the luxurious. 

"I want you to come over this evening and meet my husband, " said Mrs. Vance, not long after their intimacy began. "He wants to meet you. You play cards, don't you?"

"A little, " said Carrie. 

"Well, we'll have a game of cards. If your husband comes home bringhim over. "

"He's not coming to dinner to-night, " said Carrie. 

"Well, when he does come we'll call him in. "

Carrie acquiesced, and that evening met the portly Vance, an individuala few years younger than Hurstwood, and who owed his seeminglycomfortable matrimonial state much more to his money than to his goodlooks. He thought well of Carrie upon the first glance and laidhimself out to be genial, teaching her a new game of cards and talkingto her about New York and its pleasures. Mrs. Vance played some uponthe piano, and at last Hurstwood came. 

"I am very glad to meet you, " he said to Mrs. Vance when Carrieintroduced him, showing much of the old grace which had captivatedCarrie. "Did you think your wife had run away?" said Mr. Vance, extending his hand upon introduction. 

"I didn't know but what she might have found a better husband, " saidHurstwood. 

He now turned his attention to Mrs. Vance, and in a flash Carrie sawagain what she for some time had subconsciously missed in Hurstwood--the adroitness and flattery of which he was capable. She also saw thatshe was not well dressed--not nearly as well dressed--as Mrs. Vance. These were not vague ideas any longer. Her situation was cleared up forher. She felt that her life was becoming stale, and therein she feltcause for gloom. The old helpful, urging melancholy was restored. Thedesirous Carrie was whispered to concerning her possibilities. 

There were no immediate results to this awakening, for Carrie hadlittle power of initiative; but, nevertheless, she seemed ever capableof getting herself into the tide of change where she would be easilyborne along. Hurstwood noticed nothing. He had been unconscious ofthe marked contrasts which Carrie had observed. 

He did not even detect the shade of melancholy which settled in hereyes. Worst of all, she now began to feel the loneliness of the flatand seek the company of Mrs. Vance, who liked her exceedingly. 

"Let's go to the matinee this afternoon, " said Mrs. Vance, who hadstepped across into Carrie's flat one morning, still arrayed in a softpink dressing-gown, which she had donned upon rising. Hurstwood andVance had gone their separate ways nearly an hour before. 

"All right, " said Carrie, noticing the air of the petted and well-groomed woman in Mrs. Vance's general appearance. She looked as thoughshe was dearly loved and her every wish gratified. "What shall wesee?"

"Oh, I do want to see Nat Goodwin, " said Mrs. Vance. "I do think he isthe jolliest actor. The papers say this is such a good play. "

"What time will we have to start?" asked Carrie. 

"Let's go at once and walk down Broadway from Thirty-fourth Street, "said Mrs. Vance. "It's such an interesting walk. He's at the MadisonSquare. "

"I'll be glad to go, " said Carrie. "How much will we have to pay forseats?"

"Not more than a dollar, " said Mrs. Vance. 

The latter departed, and at one o'clock reappeared, stunningly arrayedin a dark-blue walking dress, with a nobby hat to match. Carrie hadgotten herself up charmingly enough, but this woman pained her bycontrast. She seemed to have so many dainty little things which Carriehad not. There were trinkets of gold, an elegant green leather purseset with her initials, a fancy handkerchief, exceedingly rich indesign, and the like. Carrie felt that she needed more and betterclothes to compare with this woman, and that any one looking at the twowould pick Mrs. Vance for her raiment alone. It was a trying, thoughrather unjust thought, for Carrie had now developed an equally pleasingfigure, and had grown in comeliness until she was a thoroughlyattractive type of her color of beauty. There was some difference inthe clothing of the two, both of quality and age, but this differencewas not especially noticeable. It served, however, to augment Carrie'sdissatisfaction with her state. 

The walk down Broadway, then as now, was one of the remarkable featuresof the city. There gathered, before the matinee and afterwards, notonly all the pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men who loveto gaze upon and admire them. It was a very imposing procession ofpretty 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 shopsor theatres strung along from Fourteenth to Thirty-fourth Streets. Equally the men paraded with the very latest they could afford. Atailor might have secured hints on suit measurements, a shoemaker onproper lasts and colors, a hatter on hats. It was literally true thatif a lover of fine clothes secured a new suit, it was sure to have itsfirst airing on Broadway. So true and well understood was this fact, that several years later a popular song, detailing this and other factsconcerning the afternoon parade on matinee days, and entitled "WhatRight Has He on Broadway?" was published, and had quite a vogue aboutthe music halls of the city. 

In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of this showyparade; had never even been on Broadway when it was taking place. Onthe other hand, it was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not onlyknew of it as an entity, but had often been in it, going purposely tosee and be seen, to create a stir with her beauty and dispel anytendency to fall short in dressiness by contrasting herself with thebeauty and fashion of the town. 

Carrie stepped along easily enough after they got out of the car atThirty-fourth Street, but soon fixed her eyes upon the lovely companywhich swarmed by and with them as they proceeded. She noticed suddenlythat Mrs. Vance's manner had rather stiffened under the gaze ofhandsome men and elegantly dressed ladies, whose glances were notmodified by any rules of propriety. To stare seemed the proper andnatural thing. Carrie found herself stared at and ogled. Men inflawless top-coats, high hats, and silver-headed walking sticks elbowednear and looked too often into conscious eyes. Ladies rustled by indresses of stiff cloth, shedding affected smiles and perfume. Carrienoticed among them the sprinkling of goodness and the heavy percentageof vice. The rouged and powdered cheeks and lips, the scented hair, the large, misty, and languorous eye, were common enough. With a startshe awoke to find that she was in fashion's crowd, on parade in a showplace--and such a show place! Jewelers' windows gleamed along the pathwith remarkable frequency. Florist shops, furriers, haberdashers, confectioners--all followed in rapid succession. The street was fullof coaches. Pompous doormen in immense coats, shiny brass belts andbuttons, waited in front of expensive salesrooms. Coachmen in tanboots, white tights, and blue jackets waited obsequiously for themistresses of carriages who were shopping inside. The whole streetbore the flavor of riches and show, and Carrie felt that she was not ofit. She could not, for the life of her, assume the attitude andsmartness of Mrs. Vance, who, in her beauty, was all assurance. Shecould only imagine that it must be evident to many that she was theless handsomely dressed of the two. It cut her to the quick, and sheresolved 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 anequal. Ah, then she would be happy!

Chapter XXXIITHE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR--A SEER TO TRANSLATE

 Such feelings as were generated in Carrie by this walk put her in anexceedingly receptive mood for the pathos which followed in the play. The actor whom they had gone to see had achieved his popularity bypresenting a mellow type of comedy, in which sufficient sorrow wasintroduced to lend contrast and relief to humor. For Carrie, as we wellknow, the stage had a great attraction. She had never forgotten herone histrionic achievement in Chicago. It dwelt in her mind andoccupied her consciousness during many long afternoons in which herrocking chair and her latest novel contributed the only pleasures ofher state. Never could she witness a play without having her ownability vividly brought to consciousness. Some scenes made her long tobe a part of them--to give expression to the feelings which she, in theplace of the character represented, would feel. Almost invariably shewould carry the vivid imaginations away with her and brood over themthe next day alone. She lived as much in these things as in therealities which made up her daily life. 

It was not often that she came to the play stirred to her heart's coreby actualities. To-day a low song of longing had been set singing inher heart by the finery, the merriment, the beauty she had seen. Oh, these women who had passed her by, hundreds and hundreds strong, whowere they? Whence came the rich, elegant dresses, the astonishinglycolored buttons, the knick-knacks of silver and gold? Where were theselovely creatures housed? Amid what elegancies of carved furniture, decorated walls, elaborate tapestries did they move? Where were theirrich apartments, loaded with all that money could provide? In whatstables champed these sleek, nervous horses and rested the gorgeouscarriages? Where lounged the richly groomed footmen? Oh, the mansions, the lights, the perfume, the loaded boudoirs and tables! New York mustbe filled with such bowers, or the beautiful, insolent, superciliouscreatures could not be. Some hothouses held them. It ached her to knowthat she was not one of them--that, alas, she had dreamed a dream andit had not come true. She wondered at her own solitude these two yearspast--her indifference to the fact that she had never achieved what shehad expected. 

The play was one of those drawing-room concoctions in which charminglyoverdressed ladies and gentlemen suffer the pangs of love and jealousyamid gilded surroundings. Such bon-mots are ever enticing to those whohave all their days longed for such material surroundings and havenever had them gratified. They have the charm of showing sufferingunder ideal conditions. Who would not grieve upon a gilded chair? Whowould not suffer amid perfumed tapestries, cushioned furniture, andliveried servants? Grief under such circumstances becomes an enticingthing. Carrie longed to be of it. She wanted to take her sufferings, whatever they were, in such a world, or failing that, at least tosimulate them under such charming conditions upon the stage. Soaffected was her mind by what she had seen, that the play now seemed anextraordinarily beautiful thing. She was soon lost in the world itrepresented, and wished that she might never return. Between the actsshe studied the galaxy of matinee attendants in front rows and boxes, and conceived a new idea of the possibilities of New York. She wassure she had not seen it all--that the city was one whirl of pleasureand delight. 

Going out, the same Broadway taught her a sharper lesson. The sceneshe had witnessed coming down was now augmented and at its height. Such a crush of finery and folly she had never seen. It clinched herconvictions concerning her state. She had not lived, could not layclaim to having lived, until something of this had come into her ownlife. Women were spending money like water; she could see that inevery elegant shop she passed. Flowers, candy, jewelry, seemed theprincipal things in which the elegant dames were interested. And she--she had scarcely enough pin money to indulge in such outings as this afew times a month. 

That night the pretty little flat seemed a commonplace thing. It wasnot what the rest of the world was enjoying. She saw the servantworking at dinner with an indifferent eye. In her mind were runningscenes of the play. Particularly she remembered one beautiful actress--the sweetheart who had been wooed and won. The grace of this woman hadwon Carrie's heart. Her dresses had been all that art could suggest, her sufferings had been so real. The anguish which she had portrayedCarrie could feel. It was done as she was sure she could do it. Therewere places in which she could even do better. Hence she repeated thelines to herself. Oh, if she could only have such a part, how broadwould be her life! She, too, could act appealingly. 

When Hurstwood came, Carrie was moody. She was sitting, rocking andthinking, and did not care to have her enticing imaginations broken inupon; so she said little or nothing. 

"What's the matter, Carrie?" said Hurstwood after a time, noticing herquiet, almost moody state. 

"Nothing, " said Carrie. "I don't feel very well tonight. "

"Not sick, are you?" he asked, approaching very close. 

"Oh, no, " she said, almost pettishly, "I just don't feel very good. "

"That's too bad, " he said, stepping away and adjusting his vest afterhis slight bending over. "I was thinking we might go to a show to-night. "

"I don't want to go, " said Carrie, annoyed that her fine visions shouldhave thus been broken into and driven out of her mind. "I've been tothe matinee this afternoon. "

"Oh, you have?" said Hurstwood. "What was it?"

"A Gold Mine. "

"How was it?"

"Pretty good, " said Carrie. 

"And you don't want to go again to night?"

"I don't think I do, " she said. 

Nevertheless, wakened out of her melancholia and called to the dinnertable, she changed her mind. A little food in the stomach doeswonders. She went again, and in so doing temporarily recovered herequanimity. The great awakening blow had, however, been delivered. Asoften as she might recover from these discontented thoughts now, theywould occur again. Time and repetition--ah, the wonder of it! Thedropping water and the solid stone--how utterly it yields at last!

Not long after this matinee experience--perhaps a month--Mrs. Vanceinvited Carrie to an evening at the theatre with them. She heardCarrie say that Hurstwood was not coming home to dinner. 

"Why don't you come with us? Don't get dinner for yourself. We're goingdown to Sherry's for dinner and then over to the Lyceum. Come alongwith us. "

"I think I will, " answered Carrie. 

She began to dress at three o'clock for her departure at half past fivefor the noted dining-room which was then crowding Delmonico's forposition in society. In this dressing Carrie showed the influence ofher association with the dashing Mrs. Vance. She had constantly hadher attention called by the latter to novelties in everything whichpertains to a woman's apparel. 

"Are you going to get such and such a hat?" or, "Have you seen the newgloves with the oval pearl buttons?" were but sample phrases out of alarge selection. 

"The next time you get a pair of shoes, dearie, " said Mrs. Vance, "getbutton, with thick soles and patent-leather tips. They're all the ragethis fall. "

"I will, " said Carrie. 

"Oh, dear, have you seen the new shirtwaists at Altman's? They havesome of the loveliest patterns. I saw one there that I know would lookstunning on you. I said so when I saw it. "

Carrie listened to these things with considerable interest, for theywere suggested with more of friendliness than is usually common betweenpretty women. Mrs. Vance liked Carrie's stable good-nature so wellthat she really took pleasure in suggesting to her the latest things. 

"Why don't you get yourself one of those nice serge skirts they'reselling at Lord & Taylor's?" she said one day. "They're the circularstyle, and they're going to be worn from now on. A dark blue one wouldlook so nice on you. "

Carrie listened with eager ears. These things never came up betweenher and Hurstwood. Nevertheless, she began to suggest one thing andanother, which Hurstwood agreed to without any expression of opinion. He noticed the new tendency on Carrie's part, and finally, hearing muchof Mrs. Vance and her delightful ways, suspected whence the changecame. He was not inclined to offer the slightest objection so soon, but he felt that Carrie's wants were expanding. This did not appeal tohim exactly, but he cared for her in his own way, and so the thingstood. Still, there was something in the details of the transactionswhich caused Carrie to feel that her requests were not a delight tohim. He did not enthuse over the purchases. This led her to believethat neglect was creeping in, and so another small wedge was entered. 

Nevertheless, one of the results of Mrs. Vance's suggestions was thefact that on this occasion Carrie was dressed somewhat to her ownsatisfaction. She had on her best, but there was comfort in thethought that if she must confine herself to a best, it was neat andfitting. She looked the well-groomed woman of twenty-one, and Mrs. Vance praised her, which brought color to her plump cheeks and anoticeable brightness into her large eyes. It was threatening rain, and Mr. Vance, at his wife's request, had called a coach. "Your husbandisn't coming?" suggested Mr. Vance, as he met Carrie in his littleparlor. 

"No; he said he wouldn't be home for dinner. "

"Better leave a little note for him, telling him where we are. He mightturn up. "

"I will, " said Carrie, who had not thought of it before. 

"Tell him we'll be at Sherry's until eight o'clock. He knows, though Iguess. "

Carrie crossed the hall with rustling skirts, and scrawled the note, gloves on. When she returned a newcomer was in the Vance flat. 

"Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce Mr. Ames, a cousin of mine, " said Mrs. Vance. "He's going along with us, aren't you, Bob?"

"I'm very glad to meet you, " said Ames, bowing politely to Carrie. 

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. 

"Mr. Ames is just down in New York for a few days, " put in Vance, "andwe're trying to show him around a little. "

"Oh, are you?" said Carrie, taking another glance at the newcomer. 

"Yes; I am just on here from Indianapolis for a week or so, " said youngAmes, seating himself on the edge of a chair to wait while Mrs. Vancecompleted the last touches of her toilet. 

"I guess you find New York quite a thing to see, don't you?" saidCarrie, venturing something to avoid a possible deadly silence. 

"It is rather large to get around in a week, " answered Ames, pleasantly. 

He was an exceedingly genial soul, this young man, and wholly free ofaffectation. It seemed to Carrie he was as yet only overcoming thelast traces of the bashfulness of youth. He did not seem apt atconversation, but he had the merit of being well dressed and whollycourageous. Carrie felt as if it were not going to be hard to talk tohim. 

"Well, I guess we're ready now. The coach is outside. "

"Come on, people, " said Mrs. Vance, coming in smiling. "Bob, you'llhave to look after Mrs. Wheeler. "

"I'll try to, " said Bob smiling, and edging closer to Carrie. "Youwon't need much watching, will you?" he volunteered, in a sort ofingratiating and help-me-out kind of way. 

"Not very, I hope, " said Carrie. 

They descended the stairs, Mrs. Vance offering suggestions, and climbedinto the open coach. 

"All right, " said Vance, slamming the coach door, and the conveyancerolled away. 

"What is it we're going to see?" asked Ames. 

"Sothern, " said Vance, "in 'Lord Chumley. '"

"Oh, he is so good!" said Mrs. Vance. "He's just the funniest man. "

"I notice the papers praise it, " said Ames. 

"I haven't any doubt, " put in Vance, "but we'll all enjoy it verymuch. "

Ames had taken a seat beside Carrie, and accordingly he felt it hisbounden duty to pay her some attention. He was interested to find herso young a wife, and so pretty, though it was only a respectfulinterest. There was nothing of the dashing lady's man about him. Hehad respect for the married state, and thought only of some prettymarriageable girls in Indianapolis. 

"Are you a born New Yorker?" asked Ames of Carrie. 

"Oh, no; I've only been here for two years. "

"Oh, well, you've had time to see a great deal of it, anyhow. "

"I don't seem to have, " answered Carrie. "It's about as strange to meas when I first came here. "

"You're not from the West, are you?"

"Yes. I'm from Wisconsin, " she answered. 

"Well, it does seem as if most people in this town haven't been here sovery long. I hear of lots of Indiana people in my line who are here. "

"What is your line?" asked Carrie. 

"I'm connected with an electrical company, " said the youth. 

Carrie followed up this desultory conversation with occasionalinterruptions from the Vances. Several times it became general andpartially humorous, and in that manner the restaurant was reached. 

Carrie had noticed the appearance of gayety and pleasure-seeking in thestreets which they were following. Coaches were numerous, pedestriansmany, and in Fifty-ninth Street the street cars were crowded. AtFifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue a blaze of lights from several newhotels which bordered the Plaza Square gave a suggestion of sumptuoushotel life. Fifth Avenue, the home of the wealthy, was noticeablycrowded with carriages, and gentlemen in evening dress. At Sherry's animposing doorman opened the coach door and helped them out. Young Amesheld Carrie's elbow as he helped her up the steps. They entered thelobby already swarming with patrons, and then, after divestingthemselves of their wraps, went into a sumptuous dining-room. 

In all Carrie's experience she had never seen anything like this. Inthe whole time she had been in New York Hurstwood's modified state hadnot permitted his bringing her to such a place. There was an almostindescribable atmosphere about it which convinced the newcomer thatthis was the proper thing. Here was the place where the matter ofexpense limited the patrons to the moneyed or pleasure-loving class. Carrie had read of it often in the "Morning" and "Evening World. " Shehad seen notices of dances, parties, balls, and suppers at Sherry's. The Misses So-and-so would give a party on Wednesday evening atSherry's. Young Mr. So-and-So would entertain a party of friends at aprivate luncheon on the sixteenth, at Sherry's. The common run ofconventional, perfunctory notices of the doings of society, which shecould scarcely refrain from scanning each day, had given her a distinctidea of the gorgeousness and luxury of this wonderful temple ofgastronomy. Now, at last, she was really in it. She had come up theimposing steps, guarded by the large and portly doorman. She had seenthe lobby, guarded by another large and portly gentleman, and beenwaited upon by uniformed youths who took care of canes, overcoats, andthe like. Here was the splendid dining-chamber, all decorated andaglow, where the wealthy ate. Ah, how fortunate was Mrs. Vance; young, beautiful, and well off--at least, sufficiently so to come here in acoach. What a wonderful thing it was to be rich. 

Vance led the way through lanes of shining tables, at which were seatedparties of two, three, four, five, or six. The air of assurance anddignity 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 lightwhich it requires minutes of complacent observation to separate andtake particular note of. The white shirt fronts of the gentlemen, thebright costumes of the ladies, diamonds, jewels, fine feathers--allwere exceedingly noticeable. 

Carrie walked with an air equal to that of Mrs. Vance, and accepted theseat which the head waiter provided for her. She was keenly aware ofall the little things that were done--the little genuflections andattentions of the waiters and head waiter which Americans pay for. Theair with which the latter pulled out each chair, and the wave of thehand with which he motioned them to be seated, were worth severaldollars in themselves. 

Once seated, there began that exhibition of showy, wasteful, andunwholesome gastronomy as practiced by wealthy Americans, which is thewonder and astonishment of true culture and dignity the world over. The large bill of fare held an array of dishes sufficient to feed anarmy, sidelined with prices which made reasonable expenditure aridiculous impossibility--an order of soup at fifty cents or a dollar, with a dozen kinds to choose from; oysters in forty styles and at sixtycents the half-dozen; entrees, fish, and meats at prices which wouldhouse one over night in an average hotel. One dollar fifty and twodollars seemed to be the most common figures upon this most tastefullyprinted bill of fare. 

Carrie noticed this, and in scanning it the price of spring chickencarried her back to that other bill of fare and far different occasionwhen, for the first time, she sat with Drouet in a good restaurant inChicago. It was only momentary--a sad note as out of an old song--andthen 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 closedworld, from which she only wandered because she could not find work. 

On the walls were designs in color, square spots of robin's-egg blue, set in ornate frames of gilt, whose corners were elaborate moldings offruit and flowers, with fat cupids hovering in angelic comfort. On theceilings were colored traceries with more gilt, leading to a centerwhere spread a cluster of lights-incandescent globes mingled withglittering prisms and stucco tendrils of gilt. The floor was of areddish hue, waxed and polished, and in every direction were mirrors--tall, brilliant, bevel-edged mirrors--reflecting and re-reflectingforms, faces, and candelabra a score and a hundred times. 

The tables were not so remarkable in themselves, and yet the imprint ofSherry upon the napery, the name of Tiffany upon the silverware, thename of Haviland upon the china, and over all the glow of the small, red-shaded candelabra and the reflected tints of the walls on garmentsand faces, made them seem remarkable. Each waiter added an air ofexclusiveness and elegance by the manner in which he bowed, scraped, touched, and trifled with things. The exclusively personal attentionwhich 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. "

It would be the same with each one, only Vance essayed to order forall, inviting counsel and suggestions. Carrie studied the company withopen eyes. So this was high life in New York. It was so that the richspent their days and evenings. Her poor little mind could not riseabove applying each scene to all society. Every fine lady must be inthe crowd on Broadway in the afternoon, in the theatre at the matinee, in the coaches and dining-halls at night. It must be glow and shineeverywhere, with coaches waiting, and footmen attending, and she wasout of it all. In two long years she had never even been in such aplace as this. 

Vance was in his element here, as Hurstwood would have been in formerdays. He ordered freely of soup, oysters, roast meats, and sidedishes, and had several bottles of wine brought, which were set downbeside the table in a wicker basket. 

Ames was looking away rather abstractedly at the crowd and showed aninteresting profile to Carrie. His forehead was high, his nose ratherlarge and strong, his chin moderately pleasing. He had a good, wide, well-shaped mouth, and his dark-brown hair was parted slightly on oneside. He seemed to have the least touch of boyishness to Carrie, andyet he was a man full grown. 

"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 thisway. "

Carrie looked at him a moment with the faintest touch of surprise athis seriousness. He seemed to be thinking about something over whichshe had never pondered. 

"Do you?" she answered, interestedly. 

"Yes, " he said, "they pay so much more than these things are worth. They put on so much show. "

"I don't know why people shouldn't spend when they have it, " said Mrs. Vance. 

"It doesn't do any harm, " said Vance, who was still studying the billof fare, though he had ordered. 

Ames was looking away again, and Carrie was again looking at hisforehead. To her he seemed to be thinking about strange things. As hestudied the crowd his eye was mild. 

"Look at that woman's dress over there, " he said, again turning toCarrie, and nodding in a direction. 

"Where?" said Carrie, following his eyes. 

"Over there in the corner--way over. Do you see that brooch?"

"Isn't it large?" said Carrie. 

"One of the largest clusters of jewels I have ever seen, " said Ames. 

"It is, isn't it?" said Carrie. She felt as if she would like to beagreeable to this young man, and also there came with it, or perhapspreceded it, the slightest shade of a feeling that he was bettereducated than she was--that his mind was better. He seemed to look it, and the saving grace in Carrie was that she could understand thatpeople could be wiser. She had seen a number of people in her life whoreminded her of what she had vaguely come to think of as scholars. This strong young man beside her, with his clear, natural look, seemedto get a hold of things which she did not quite understand, butapproved of. It was fine to be so, as a man, she thought. 

The conversation changed to a book that was having its vogue at thetime--"Molding a Maiden, " by Albert Ross. Mrs. Vance had read it. Vance had seen it discussed in some of the papers. 

"A man can make quite a strike writing a book, " said Vance. "I noticethis fellow Ross is very much talked about. " He was looking at Carrieas he spoke. 

"I hadn't heard of him, " said Carrie, honestly. 

"Oh, I have, " said Mrs. Vance. "He's written lots of things. This laststory is pretty good. "

"He doesn't amount to much, " said Ames. 

Carrie turned her eyes toward him as to an oracle. 

"His stuff is nearly as bad as 'Dora Thorne, '" concluded Ames. 

Carrie felt this as a personal reproof. She read "Dora Thorne, " or hada great deal in the past. It seemed only fair to her, but she supposedthat people thought it very fine. Now this clear-eyed, fine-headedyouth, who looked something like a student to her, made fun of it. Itwas poor to him, not worth reading. She looked down, and for the firsttime felt the pain of not understanding. 

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 kindlythought of a high order--the right thing to think, and wondered whatelse was right, according to him. He seemed to notice that shelistened and rather sympathized with him, and from now on he talkedmostly to her. 

As the waiter bowed and scraped about, felt the dishes to see if theywere hot enough, brought spoons and forks, and did all those littleattentive things calculated to impress the luxury of the situation uponthe diner, Ames also leaned slightly to one side and told her ofIndianapolis in an intelligent way. He really had a very bright mind, which was finding its chief development in electrical knowledge. Hissympathies for other forms of information, however, and for types ofpeople, were quick and warm. The red glow on his head gave it a sandytinge and put a bright glint in his eye. Carrie noticed all thesethings as he leaned toward her and felt exceedingly young. This manwas far ahead of her. He seemed wiser than Hurstwood, saner andbrighter than Drouet. He seemed innocent and clean, and she thoughtthat he was exceedingly pleasant. She noticed, also, that his interestin her was a far-off one. She was not in his life, nor any of thethings that touched his life, and yet now, as he spoke of these things, they appealed to her. 

"I shouldn't care to be rich, " he told her, as the dinner proceeded andthe supply of food warmed up his sympathies; "not rich enough to spendmy money this way. "

"Oh, wouldn't you?" said Carrie, the, to her, new attitude forcingitself distinctly upon her for the first time. 

"No, " he said. "What good would it do? A man doesn't need this sort ofthing to be happy. "

Carrie thought of this doubtfully; but, coming from him, it had weightwith her. 

"He probably could be happy, " she thought to herself, "all alone. He'sso strong. "

Mr. And Mrs. Vance kept up a running fire of interruptions, and theseimpressive things by Ames came at odd moments. They were sufficient, however, for the atmosphere that went with this youth impressed itselfupon Carrie without words. There was something in him, or the world hemoved in, which appealed to her. He reminded her of scenes she hadseen on the stage--the sorrows and sacrifices that always went with sheknew not what. He had taken away some of the bitterness of thecontrast between this life and her life, and all by a certain calmindifference which concerned only him. 

As they went out, he took her arm and helped her into the coach, andthen they were off again, and so to the show. 

During the acts Carrie found herself listening to him very attentively. He mentioned things in the play which she most approved of--thingswhich swayed her deeply. 

"Don't you think it rather fine to be an actor?" she asked once. 

"Yes, I do, " he said, "to be a good one. I think the theatre a greatthing. "

Just this little approval set Carrie's heart bounding. Ah, if shecould only be an actress--a good one! This man was wise--he knew--andhe approved of it. If she were a fine actress, such men as he wouldapprove of her. She felt that he was good to speak as he had, althoughit did not concern her at all. She did not know why she felt this way. 

At the close of the show it suddenly developed that he was not goingback with them. 

"Oh, aren't you?" said Carrie, with an unwarrantable feeling. 

"Oh, no, " he said; "I'm stopping right around here in Thirty-thirdStreet. "

Carrie could not say anything else, but somehow this developmentshocked 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 intothem!

She said good-bye with feigned indifference. What matter could itmake? Still, the coach seemed lorn. 

When she went into her own flat she had this to think about. She didnot know whether she would ever see this man any more. What differencecould it make--what difference could it make?

Hurstwood had returned, and was already in bed. His clothes werescattered loosely about. Carrie came to the door and saw him, thenretreated. She did not want to go in yet a while. She wanted tothink. It was disagreeable to her. 

Back in the dining-room she sat in her chair and rocked. Her littlehands were folded tightly as she thought. Through a fog of longing andconflicting desires she was beginning to see. Oh, ye legions of hopeand pity--of sorrow and pain! She was rocking, and beginning to see. 

Chapter XXXIIIWITHOUT THE WALLED CITY--THE SLOPE OF THE YEARS

 The immediate result of this was nothing. Results from such thingsare usually long in growing. Morning brings a change of feeling. Theexistent condition invariably pleads for itself. It is only at oddmoments that we get glimpses of the misery of things. The heartunderstands when it is confronted with contrasts. Take them away andthe ache subsides. 

Carrie went on, leading much this same life for six months thereafteror more. She did not see Ames any more. He called once upon theVances, but she only heard about it through the young wife. Then hewent West, and there was a gradual subsidence of whatever personalattraction had existed. The mental effect of the thing had not gone, however, and never would entirely. She had an ideal to contrast menby--particularly men close to her. 

During all this time--a period rapidly approaching three years-Hurstwood had been moving along in an even path. There was no apparentslope downward, and distinctly none upward, so far as the casualobserver 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 hedeparted from Chicago. A man's fortune or material progress is verymuch the same as his bodily growth. Either he is growing stronger, healthier, wiser, as the youth approaching manhood, or he is growingweaker, older, less incisive mentally, as the man approaching old age. There are no other states. Frequently there is a period between thecessation of youthful accretion and the setting in, in the case of themiddle-aged man, of the tendency toward decay when the two processesare almost perfectly balanced and there is little doing in eitherdirection. Given time enough, however, the balance becomes a saggingto the grave side. Slowly at first, then with a modest momentum, andat last the graveward process is in the full swing. So it isfrequently with man's fortune. If its process of accretion is neverhalted, if the balancing stage is never reached, there will be notoppling. Rich men are, frequently, in these days, saved from thisdissolution of their fortune by their ability to hire younger brains. These younger brains look upon the interests of the fortune as theirown, and so steady and direct its progress. If each individual wereleft absolutely to the care of his own interests, and were given timeenough in which to grow exceedingly old, his fortune would pass as hisstrength and will. He and his would be utterly dissolved and scatteredunto the four winds of the heavens. 

But now see wherein the parallel changes. A fortune, like a man, is anorganism which draws to itself other minds and other strength than thatinherent in the founder. Beside the young minds drawn to it bysalaries, it becomes allied with young forces, which make for itsexistence 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 maybe involved in providing something for which there is a growing demand. This removes it at once beyond the special care of the founder. Itneeds not so much foresight now as direction. The man wanes, the needcontinues or grows, and the fortune, fallen into whose hands it may, continues. Hence, some men never recognise the turning in the tide oftheir abilities. It is only in chance cases, where a fortune or astate of success is wrested from them, that the lack of ability to doas they did formerly becomes apparent. Hurstwood, set down under newconditions, was in a position to see that he was no longer young. Ifhe did not, it was due wholly to the fact that his state was so wellbalanced that an absolute change for the worse did not show. 

Not trained to reason or introspect himself, he could not analyze thechange that was taking place in his mind, and hence his body, but hefelt the depression of it. Constant comparison between his old stateand his new showed a balance for the worse, which produced a constantstate of gloom or, at least, depression. Now, it has been shownexperimentally that a constantly subdued frame of mind produces certainpoisons in the blood, called katastates, just as virtuous feelings ofpleasure and delight produce helpful chemicals called anastates. Thepoisons generated by remorse inveigh against the system, and eventuallyproduce marked physical deterioration. To these Hurstwood was subject. 

In the course of time it told upon his temper. His eye no longerpossessed that buoyant, searching shrewdness which had characterized itin Adams Street. His step was not as sharp and firm. He was given tothinking, thinking, thinking. The new friends he made were notcelebrities. They were of a cheaper, a slightly more sensual andcruder, grade. He could not possibly take the pleasure in this companythat he had in that of those fine frequenters of the Chicago resort. He was left to brood. 

Slowly, exceedingly slowly, his desire to greet, conciliate, and makeat home these people who visited the Warren Street place passed fromhim. More and more slowly the significance of the realm he had leftbegan to be clear. It did not seem so wonderful to be in it when hewas in it. It had seemed very easy for any one to get up there andhave 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 wallabout it. Men were posted at the gates. You could not get in. Thoseinside did not care to come out to see who you were. They were somerry inside there that all those outside were forgotten, and he was onthe outside. 

Each day he could read in the evening papers of the doings within thiswalled city. In the notices of passengers for Europe he read the namesof eminent frequenters of his old resort. In the theatrical columnappeared, from time to time, announcements of the latest successes ofmen he had known. He knew that they were at their old gayeties. Pullmans were hauling them to and fro about the land, papers weregreeting them with interesting mentions, the elegant lobbies of hotelsand the glow of polished dining-rooms were keeping them close withinthe walled city. Men whom he had known, men whom he had tipped glasseswith--rich men, and he was forgotten! Who was Mr. Wheeler? What was theWarren Street resort? Bah!

If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so common a type ofmind--that such feelings require a higher mental development-I wouldurge for their consideration the fact that it is the higher mentaldevelopment that does away with such thoughts. It is the higher mentaldevelopment which induces philosophy and that fortitude which refusesto dwell upon such things--refuses to be made to suffer by theirconsideration. The common type of mind is exceedingly keen on allmatters which relate to its physical welfare--exceedingly keen. It isthe unintellectual miser who sweats blood at the loss of a hundreddollars. It is the Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige ofphysical welfare is removed. 

The time came, in the third year, when this thinking began to produceresults in the Warren Street place. The tide of patronage dropped alittle below what it had been at its best since he had been there. This irritated and worried him. 

There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that the business wasnot doing as well this month as it had the month before. This was inlieu of certain suggestions she had made concerning little things shewanted to buy. She had not failed to notice that he did not seem toconsult her about buying clothes for himself. For the first time, itstruck her as a ruse, or that he said it so that she would not think ofasking for things. Her reply was mild enough, but her thoughts wererebellious. He was not looking after her at all. She was dependingfor her enjoyment upon the Vances. 

And now the latter announced that they were going away. It wasapproaching spring, and they were going North. 

"Oh, yes, " said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, "we think we might as well giveup the flat and store our things. We'll be gone for the summer, and itwould be a useless expense. I think we'll settle a little farther downtown when we come back. "

Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow. She had enjoyed Mrs. Vance'scompanionship so much. There was no one else in the house whom sheknew. Again she would be all alone. 

Hurstwood's gloom over the slight decrease in profits and the departureof the Vances came together. So Carrie had loneliness and this mood ofher husband to enjoy at the same time. It was a grievous thing. Shebecame restless and dissatisfied, not exactly, as she thought, withHurstwood, but with life. What was it? A very dull round indeed. Whatdid she have? Nothing but this narrow, little flat. The Vances couldtravel, they could do the things worth doing, and here she was. Forwhat was she made, anyhow? More thought followed, and then tears--tearsseemed justified, and the only relief in the world. 

For another period this state continued, the twain leading a rathermonotonous life, and then there was a slight change for the worse. Oneevening, Hurstwood, after thinking about a way to modify Carrie'sdesire for clothes and the general strain upon his ability to provide, said:

"I don't think I'll ever be able to do much with Shaughnessy. "

"What's the matter?" said Carrie. 

"Oh, he's a slow, greedy 'mick'! He won't agree to anything to improvethe place, and it won't ever pay without it. "

"Can't you make him?" said Carrie. 

"No; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want to improve, is toget hold of a place of my own. "

"Why don't you?" said Carrie. 

"Well, all I have is tied up in there just now. If I had a chance tosave a while I think I could open a place that would give us plenty ofmoney. "

"Can't we save?" said Carrie. 

"We might try it, " he suggested. "I've been thinking that if we'd takea smaller flat down town and live economically for a year, I would haveenough, with what I have invested, to open a good place. Then we couldarrange to live as you want to. "

"It would suit me all right, " said Carrie, who, nevertheless, feltbadly to think it had come to this. Talk of a smaller flat soundedlike poverty. 

"There are lots of nice little flats down around Sixth Avenue, belowFourteenth Street. We might get one down there. "

"I'll look at them if you say so, " said Carrie. 

"I think I could break away from this fellow inside of a year, " saidHurstwood. "Nothing will ever come of this arrangement as it's goingon now. "

"I'll look around, " said Carrie, observing that the proposed changeseemed to be a serious thing with him. 

The upshot of this was that the change was eventually effected; notwithout great gloom on the part of Carrie. It really affected her moreseriously than anything that had yet happened. She began to look uponHurstwood wholly as a man, and not as a lover or husband. She feltthoroughly 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 andtaciturn, not a young, strong, and buoyant man. He looked a little bitold to her about the eyes and mouth now, and there were other thingswhich placed him in his true rank, so far as her estimation wasconcerned. She began to feel that she had made a mistake. Incidentally, she also began to recall the fact that he had practicallyforced her to flee with him. 

The new flat was located in Thirteenth Street, a half block west ofSixth Avenue, and contained only four rooms. The new neighborhood didnot appeal to Carrie as much. There were no trees here, no west viewof the river. The street was solidly built up. There were twelvefamilies here, respectable enough, but nothing like the Vances. Richerpeople required more space. 

Being left alone in this little place, Carrie did without a girl. Shemade it charming enough, but could not make it delight her. Hurstwoodwas not inwardly pleased to think that they should have to modify theirstate, but he argued that he could do nothing. He must put the bestface on it, and let it go at that. 

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 theyear by taking her rather more frequently to the theatre and byproviding a liberal table. This was for the time only. He was gettingin the frame of mind where he wanted principally to be alone and to beallowed to think. The disease of brooding was beginning to claim himas a victim. Only the newspapers and his own thoughts were worthwhile. The delight of love had again slipped away. It was a case oflive, now, making the best you can out of a very commonplace station inlife. 

The road downward has but few landings and level places. The verystate of his mind, super induced by his condition, caused the breach towiden between him and his partner. At last that individual began towish that Hurstwood was out of it. It so happened, however, that areal estate deal on the part of the owner of the land arranged thingseven more effectually than ill will could have schemed. 

"Did you see that?" said Shaughnessy one morning to Hurstwood, pointingto the real estate column in a copy of the "Herald, " which he held. 

"No, what is it?" said Hurstwood, looking down the items of news. 

"The man who owns this ground has sold it. "

"You don't say so?" said Hurstwood. 

He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August Viele had yesterdayregistered the transfer of the lot, 25 x 75 feet, at the corner ofWarren and Hudson Streets, to J. F. Slawson for the sum of $57, 000. 

"Our lease expires when?" asked Hurstwood, thinking. "Next February, isn't it?"

"That's right, " said Shaughnessy. 

"It doesn't say what the new man's going to do with it, " remarkedHurstwood, looking back to the paper. 

"We'll hear, I guess, soon enough, " said Shaughnessy. 

Sure enough, it did develop. Mr. Slawson owned the property adjoining, and was going to put up a modern office building. The present one wasto be torn down. It would take probably a year and a half to completethe other one. 

All these things developed by degrees, and Hurstwood began to ponderover what would become of the saloon. One day he spoke about it to hispartner. 

"Do you think it would be worth while to open up somewhere else in theneighborhood?"

"What would be the use?" said Shaughnessy. "We couldn't get anothercorner around here. "

"It wouldn't pay anywhere else, do you think?"

"I wouldn't try it, " said the other. The approaching change now took ona most serious aspect to Hurstwood. Dissolution meant the loss of histhousand dollars, and he could not save another thousand in the time. He understood that Shaughnessy was merely tired of the arrangement, andwould probably lease the new corner, when completed, alone. He began toworry about the necessity of a new connection and to see impendingserious financial straits unless something turned up. This left him inno mood to enjoy his flat or Carrie, and consequently the depressioninvaded that quarter. 

Meanwhile, he took such time as he could to look about, butopportunities were not numerous. More, he had not the same impressivepersonality which he had when he first came to New York. Bad thoughtshad put a shade into his eyes which did not impress others favorably. Neither had he thirteen hundred dollars in hand to talk with. About amonth later, finding that he had not made any progress, Shaughnessyreported definitely that Slawson would not extend the lease. 

"I guess this thing's got to come to an end, " he said, affecting an airof concern. 

"Well, if it has, it has, " answered Hurstwood, grimly. He would notgive the other a key to his opinions, whatever they were. He shouldnot have the satisfaction. 

A day or two later he saw that he must say something to Carrie. 

"You know, " he said, "I think I'm going to get the worst of my dealdown there. "

"How is that?" asked Carrie in astonishment. 

"Well, the man who owns the ground has sold it. And the new ownerwon't release it to us. The business may come to an end. "

"Can't you start somewhere else?"

"There doesn't seem to be any place. Shaughnessy doesn't want to. "

"Do you lose what you put in?"

"Yes, " said Hurstwood, whose face was a study. 

"Oh, isn't that too bad?" said Carrie. 

"It's a trick, " said Hurstwood. "That's all. They'll start anotherplace there all right. "

Carrie looked at him, and gathered from his whole demeanor what itmeant. It was serious, very serious. 

"Do you think you can get something else?" she ventured, timidly. 

Hurstwood thought a while. It was all up with the bluff about moneyand investment. She could see now that he was "broke. "

"I don't know, " he said solemnly; "I can try. "

Chapter XXXIVTHE GRIND OF THE MILLSTONES--A SAMPLE OF CHAFF

Carrie pondered over this situation as consistently as Hurstwood, onceshe got the facts adjusted in her mind. It took several days for herto fully realize that the approach of the dissolution of her husband'sbusiness meant commonplace struggle and privation. Her mind went backto her early venture in Chicago, the Hansons and their flat, and herheart revolted. That was terrible! Everything about poverty wasterrible. She wished she knew a way out. Her recent experiences withthe Vances had wholly unfitted her to view her own state withcomplacence. The glamour of the high life of the city had, in the fewexperiences afforded her by the former, seized her completely. She hadbeen taught how to dress and where to go without having ample means todo either. Now, these things-ever-present realities as they were--filled her eyes and mind. The more circumscribed became her state, themore entrancing seemed this other. And now poverty threatened to seizeher entirely and to remove this other world far upward like a heaven towhich any Lazarus might extend, appealingly, his hands. 

So, too, the ideal brought into her life by Ames remained. He hadgone, but here was his word that riches were not everything; that therewas a great deal more in the world than she knew; that the stage wasgood, and the literature she read poor. He was a strong man and clean--how much stronger and better than Hurstwood and Drouet she only halfformulated to herself, but the difference was painful. It wassomething to which she voluntarily closed her eyes. 

During the last three months of the Warren Street connection, Hurstwoodtook parts of days off and hunted, tracking the businessadvertisements. It was a more or less depressing business, whollybecause of the thought that he must soon get something or he wouldbegin to live on the few hundred dollars he was saving, and then hewould have nothing to invest--he would have to hire out as a clerk. 

Everything he discovered in his line advertised as an opportunity, waseither too expensive or too wretched for him. Besides, winter wascoming, the papers were announcing hardships, and there was a generalfeeling of hard times in the air, or, at least, he thought so. In hisworry, other people's worries became apparent. No item about a firmfailing, a family starving, or a man dying upon the streets, supposedlyof starvation, but arrested his eye as he scanned the morning papers. Once the "World" came out with a flaring announcement about "80, 000people out of employment in New York this winter, " which struck as aknife at his heart. 

"Eighty thousand!" he thought. "What an awful thing that is. "

This was new reasoning for Hurstwood. In the old days the world hadseemed to be getting along well enough. He had been wont to seesimilar things in the "Daily News, " in Chicago, but they did not holdhis attention. Now, these things were like gray clouds hovering alongthe horizon of a clear day. They threatened to cover and obscure hislife with chilly grayness. He tried to shake them off, to forget andbrace up. Sometimes he said to himself, mentally:

"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 sixmonths. "

Curiously, as he troubled over his future, his thoughts occasionallyreverted to his wife and family. He had avoided such thoughts for thefirst three years as much as possible. He hated her, and he could getalong without her. Let her go. He would do well enough. Now, however, when he was not doing well enough, he began to wonder what shewas doing, how his children were getting along. He could see themliving as nicely as ever, occupying the comfortable house and using hisproperty. 

"By George! it's a shame they should have it all, " he vaguely thoughtto himself on several occasions. "I didn't do anything. "

As he looked back now and analyzed the situation which led up to histaking the money, he began mildly to justify himself. What had hedone--what in the world--that should bar him out this way and heap suchdifficulties upon him? It seemed only yesterday to him since he wascomfortable and well-to-do. But now it was all wrested from him. 

"She didn't deserve what she got out of me, that is sure. I didn't doso much, if everybody could just know. "

There was no thought that the facts ought to be advertised. It wasonly a mental justification he was seeking from himself-something thatwould enable him to bear his state as a righteous man. 

One afternoon, five weeks before the Warren Street place closed up, heleft 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 notenter. It was such a cheap looking place he felt that he could notabide it. Another was on the Bowery, which he knew contained manyshowy resorts. It was near Grand Street, and turned out to be veryhandsomely fitted up. He talked around about investments for fullythree-quarters of an hour with the proprietor, who maintained that hishealth was poor, and that was the reason he wished a partner. 

"Well, now, just how much money would it take to buy a half interesthere?" said Hurstwood, who saw seven hundred dollars as his limit. 

"Three thousand, " said the man. 

Hurstwood's jaw fell. 

"Cash?" he said. 

"Cash. "

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 itover, and came away. The man he had been talking to sensed hiscondition in a vague way. 

"I don't think he wants to buy, " he said to himself. "He doesn't talkright. "

The afternoon was as gray as lead and cold. It was blowing up adisagreeable 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, whenhe reached there. A portly German kept this place. 

"How about this ad of yours?" asked Hurstwood, who rather objected tothe looks of the place. 

"Oh, dat iss all over, " said the German. "I vill not sell now. "

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes; dere is nothing to dat. It iss all over. "

"Very well, " said Hurstwood, turning around. 

The German paid no more attention to him, and it made him angry. 

"The crazy ass!" he said to himself. "What does he want to advertisefor?"

Wholly depressed, he started for Thirteenth Street. The flat had onlya light in the kitchen, where Carrie was working. He struck a matchand, lighting the gas, sat down in the dining-room without evengreeting her. She came to the door and looked in. 

"It's you, is it?" she said, and went back. 

"Yes, " he said, without even looking up from the evening paper he hadbought. 

Carrie saw things were wrong with him. He was not so handsome whengloomy. The lines at the sides of the eyes were deepened. Naturallydark of skin, gloom made him look slightly sinister. He was quite adisagreeable figure. 

Carrie set the table and brought in the meal. 

"Dinner's ready, " she said, passing him for something. 

He did not answer, reading on. 

She came in and sat down at her place, feeling exceedingly wretched. 

"Won't you eat now?" she asked. 

He folded his paper and drew near, silence holding for a time, exceptfor the "Pass me's. "

"It's been gloomy to-day, hasn't it?" ventured Carrie, after a time. 

"Yes, " he said. 

He only picked at his food. 

"Are you still sure to close up?" said Carrie, venturing to take up thesubject which they had discussed often enough. 

"Of course we are, " he said, with the slightest modification ofsharpness. 

This retort angered Carrie. She had had a dreary day of it herself. 

"You needn't talk like that, " she said. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed, pushing back from the table, as if to say more, butletting it go at that. Then he picked up his paper. Carrie left herseat, containing herself with difficulty. He saw she was hurt. 

"Don't go 'way, " he said, as she started back into the kitchen. "Eatyour dinner. "

She passed, not answering. 

He looked at the paper a few moments, and then rose up and put on hiscoat. 

"I'm going downtown, Carrie, " he said, coming out. "I'm out of sortsto-night. "

She did not answer. 

"Don't be angry, " he said. "It will be all right to morrow. "

He looked at her, but she paid no attention to him, working at herdishes. 

"Good-bye!" he said finally, and went out. 

This was the first strong result of the situation between them, butwith the nearing of the last day of the business the gloom becamealmost a permanent thing. Hurstwood could not conceal his feelingsabout the matter. Carrie could not help wondering where she wasdrifting. It got so that they talked even less than usual, and yet itwas not Hurstwood who felt any objection to Carrie. It was Carrie whoshied away from him. This he noticed. It aroused an objection to herbecoming indifferent to him. He made the possibility of friendlyintercourse almost a giant task, and then noticed with discontent thatCarrie added to it by her manner and made it more impossible. 

At last the final day came. When it actually arrived, Hurstwood, whohad got his mind into such a state where a thunderclap and raging stormwould have seemed highly appropriate, was rather relieved to find thatit was a plain, ordinary day. The sun shone, the temperature waspleasant. He felt, as he came to the breakfast table, that it wasn'tso terrible, after all. 

"Well, " he said to Carrie, "to-day's my last day on earth. "

Carrie smiled in answer to his humor. 

Hurstwood glanced over his paper rather gaily. He seemed to have losta load. 

"I'll go down for a little while, " he said after breakfast, "and thenI'll look around. To-morrow I'll spend the whole day looking about. Ithink I can get something, now this thing's off my hands. "

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 tothe place, now that it was no longer to exist, he felt sorry. Hewished that things were different. 

Shaughnessy was coolly businesslike. 

"Well, " he said at five o'clock, "we might as well count the change anddivide. "

They did so. The fixtures had already been sold and the sum divided. 

"Good-night, " said Hurstwood at the final moment, in a last effort tobe genial. 

"So long, " said Shaughnessy, scarcely deigning a notice. 

Thus the Warren Street arrangement was permanently concluded. 

Carrie had prepared a good dinner at the flat, but after his ride up, Hurstwood was in a solemn and reflective mood. 

"Well?" said Carrie, inquisitively. 

"I'm out of that, " he answered, taking off his coat. 

As she looked at him, she wondered what his financial state was now. They ate and talked a little. 

"Will you have enough to buy in anywhere else?" asked Carrie. 

"No, " he said. "I'll have to get something else and save up. "

"It would be nice if you could get some place, " said Carrie, promptedby anxiety and hope. 

"I guess I will, " he said reflectively. 

For some days thereafter he put on his overcoat regularly in themorning and sallied forth. On these ventures he first consoled himselfwith the thought that with the seven hundred dollars he had he couldstill make some advantageous arrangement. He thought about going tosome brewery, which, as he knew, frequently controlled saloons whichthey leased, and get them to help him. Then he remembered that hewould have to pay out several hundred any way for fixtures and that hewould have nothing left for his monthly expenses. It was costing himnearly eighty dollars a month to live. 

"No, " he said, in his sanest moments, "I can't do it. I'll getsomething else and save up. "

This getting-something proposition complicated itself the moment hebegan to think of what it was he wanted to do. Manage a place? Whereshould he get such a position? The papers contained no requests formanagers. Such positions, he knew well enough, were either secured bylong 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 moneyenough to buy. 

Nevertheless, he started out. His clothes were very good and hisappearance still excellent, but it involved the trouble of deluding. People, looking at him, imagined instantly that a man of his age, stoutand well dressed, must be well off. He appeared a comfortable owner ofsomething, a man from whom the common run of mortals could well expectgratuities. 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 theclose of the day, even when he took street cars in almost everydirection. The mere getting up and down, if long continued, producedthis result. 

The fact that people took him to be better off than he was, he wellunderstood. It was so painfully clear to him that it retarded hissearch. Not that he wished to be less well appearing, but that he wasashamed to belie his appearance by incongruous appeals. So hehesitated, wondering what to do. 

He thought of the hotels, but instantly he remembered that he had hadno experience as a clerk, and, what was more important, noacquaintances or friends in that line to whom he could go. He did knowsome hotel owners in several cities, including New York, but they knewof his dealings with Fitzgerald and Moy. He could not apply to them. He thought of other lines suggested by large buildings or businesseswhich he knew of--wholesale groceries, hardware, insurance concerns, and the like--but he had had no experience. 

How to go about getting anything was a bitter thought. Would he haveto go personally and ask; wait outside an office door, and, then, distinguished and affluent looking, announce that he was looking forsomething to do? He strained painfully at the thought. No, he couldnot do that. 

He really strolled about, thinking, and then, the weather being cold, stepped into a hotel. He knew hotels well enough to know that anydecent individual was welcome to a chair in the lobby. This was in theBroadway Central, which was then one of the most important hotels inthe city. Taking a chair here was a painful thing to him. To think heshould come to this! He had heard loungers about hotels called chairwarmers. He had called them that himself in his day. But here he was, despite the possibility of meeting some one who knew him, shieldinghimself from cold and the weariness of the streets in a hotel lobby. 

"I can't do this way, " he said to himself. "There's no use of mystarting out mornings without first thinking up some place to go. I'llthink of some places and then look them up. "

It occurred to him that the positions of bartenders were sometimesopen, but he put this out of his mind. Bartender--he, the ex-manager!

It grew awfully dull sitting in the hotel lobby, and so at four he wenthome. He tried to put on a business air as he went in, but it was afeeble imitation. The rocking chair in the dining room wascomfortable. He sank into it gladly, with several papers he hadbought, and began to read. 

As she was going through the room to begin preparing dinner, Carriesaid:

"The man was here for the rent to-day. "

"Oh, was he?" said Hurstwood. 

The least wrinkle crept into his brow as he remembered that this wasFebruary 2d, the time the man always called. He fished down in hispocket for his purse, getting the first taste of paying out whennothing is coming in. He looked at the fat, green roll as a sick manlooks at the one possible saving cure. Then he counted off twenty-eight dollars. 

"Here you are, " he said to Carrie, when she came through again. 

He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the rest of it-therelief from walking and thinking! What Lethean waters were these floodsof telegraphed intelligence! He forgot his troubles, in part. Here wasa young, handsome woman, if you might believe the newspaper drawing, suing a rich, fat, candy-making husband in Brooklyn for divorce. Herewas another item detailing the wrecking of a vessel in ice and snow offPrince's Bay on Staten Island. A long, bright column told of thedoings in the theatrical world--the plays produced, the actorsappearing, the managers making announcements. Fannie Davenport wasjust opening at the Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing "King Lear. " Heread of the early departure for the season of a party composed of theVanderbilts and their friends for Florida. An interesting shootingaffray 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 beserved. 

Chapter XXXVTHE PASSING OF EFFORT--THE VISAGE OF CARE

 The next morning he looked over the papers and waded through a longlist of advertisements, making a few notes. Then he turned to themale-help-wanted column, but with disagreeable feelings. The day wasbefore him--a long day in which to discover something--and this was howhe must begin to discover. He scanned the long column, which mostlyconcerned bakers, bushelmen, cooks, compositors, drivers, and the like, finding two things only which arrested his eye. One was a cashierwanted in a wholesale furniture house, and the other a salesman for awhiskey house. He had never thought of the latter. At once he decidedto look that up. 

The firm in question was Alsbery & Co. , whiskey brokers. 

He was admitted almost at once to the manager on his appearance. 

"Good-morning, sir, " said the latter, thinking at first that he wasencountering one of his out-of-town customers. 

"Good-morning, " said Hurstwood. "You advertised, I believe, for asalesman?"

"Oh, " said the man, showing plainly the enlightenment which had come tohim. "Yes. Yes, I did. "

"I thought I'd drop in, " said Hurstwood, with dignity. "I've had someexperience in that line myself. "

"Oh, have you?" said the man. "What experience have you had?"

"Well, I've managed several liquor houses in my time. Recently I owneda third-interest in a saloon at Warren and Hudson streets. "

"I see, " said the man. 

Hurstwood ceased, waiting for some suggestion. 

"We did want a salesman, " said the man. "I don't know as it's anythingyou'd care to take hold of, though. "

"I see, " said Hurstwood. "Well, I'm in no position to choose, just atpresent. If it were open, I should be glad to get it. "

The man did not take kindly at all to his "No position to choose. " Hewanted some one who wasn't thinking of a choice or something better. Especially not an old man. He wanted some one young, active, and gladto work actively for a moderate sum. Hurstwood did not please him atall. He had more of an air than his employers. 

"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 yourreferences. "

"I will, " said Hurstwood. 

He nodded good-morning and came away. At the corner he looked at thefurniture company's address, and saw that it was in West Twenty-thirdStreet. Accordingly, he went up there. The place was not largeenough, however. It looked moderate, the men in it idle and smallsalaried. He walked by, glancing in, and then decided not to go inthere. 

"They want a girl, probably, at ten a week, " he said. 

At one o'clock he thought of eating, and went to a restaurant inMadison Square. There he pondered over places which he might look up. He was tired. It was blowing up gray again. Across the way, throughMadison Square Park, stood the great hotels, looking down upon a busyscene. He decided to go over to the lobby of one and sit a while. Itwas warm in there and bright. He had seen no one he knew at theBroadway Central. In all likelihood he would encounter no one here. Finding a seat on one of the red plush divans close to the greatwindows which look out on Broadway's busy rout, he sat musing. Hisstate did not seem so bad in here. Sitting still and looking out, hecould take some slight consolation in the few hundred dollars he had inhis purse. He could forget, in a measure, the weariness of the streetand his tiresome searches. Still, it was only escape from a severe toa less severe state. He was still gloomy and disheartened. There, minutes seemed to go very slowly. An hour was a long, long time inpassing. It was filled for him with observations and mental commentsconcerning the actual guests of the hotel, who passed in and out, andthose more prosperous pedestrians whose good fortune showed in theirclothes and spirits as they passed along Broadway, outside. It wasnearly the first time since he had arrived in the city that his leisureafforded 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 clothesthey all wore. They were so intent upon getting somewhere. He sawcoquettish glances cast by magnificent girls. Ah, the money itrequired to train with such--how well he knew! How long it had beensince he had had the opportunity to do so!

The clock outside registered four. It was a little early, but hethought he would go back to the flat. 

This going back to the flat was coupled with the thought that Carriewould think he was sitting around too much if he came home early. Hehoped he wouldn't have to, but the day hung heavily on his hands. Overthere he was on his own ground. He could sit in his rocking-chair andread. This busy, distracting, suggestive scene was shut out. He couldread his papers. Accordingly, he went home. Carrie was reading, quitealone. It was rather dark in the flat, shut in as it was. 

"You'll hurt your eyes, " he said when he saw her. 

After taking off his coat, he felt it incumbent upon him to make somelittle report of his day. 

"I've been talking with a wholesale liquor company, " he said. "I maygo on the road. "

"Wouldn't that be nice!" said Carrie. "It wouldn't be such a badthing, " he answered. 

Always from the man at the corner now he bought two papers--the"Evening World" and "Evening Sun. " So now he merely picked his papersup, as he came by, without stopping. 

He drew up his chair near the radiator and lighted the gas. Then itwas as the evening before. His difficulties vanished in the items heso well loved to read. 

The next day was even worse than the one before, because now he couldnot 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?

"You mustn't forget to leave me my money for this week, " said Carrie, quietly. 

They had an arrangement by which he placed twelve dollars a week in herhands, out of which to pay current expenses. He heaved a little sighas she said this, and drew out his purse. Again he felt the dread ofthe thing. Here he was taking off, taking off, and nothing coming in. 

"Lord!" he said, in his own thoughts, "this can't go on. "

To Carrie he said nothing whatsoever. She could feel that her requestdisturbed him. To pay her would soon become a distressing thing. 

"Yet, what have I got to do with it?" she thought. "Oh, why should Ibe made to worry?"

Hurstwood went out and made for Broadway. He wanted to think up someplace. Before long, though, he reached the Grand Hotel at Thirty-firstStreet. He knew of its comfortable lobby. He was cold after histwenty blocks' walk. 

"I'll go in their barber shop and get a shave, " he thought. 

Thus he justified himself in sitting down in here after his tonsorialtreatment. 

Again, time hanging heavily on his hands, he went home early, and thiscontinued for several days, each day the need to hunt paining him, andeach day disgust, depression, shamefacedness driving him into lobbyidleness. 

At last three days came in which a storm prevailed, and he did not goout at all. The snow began to fall late one afternoon. It was aregular flurry of large, soft, white flakes. In the morning it wasstill coming down with a high wind, and the papers announced ablizzard. From out the front windows one could see a deep, softbedding. 

"I guess I'll not try to go out to-day, " he said to Carrie atbreakfast. "It's going to be awful bad, so the papers say. "

"The man hasn't brought my coal, either, " said Carrie, who ordered bythe bushel. 

"I'll go over and see about it, " said Hurstwood. This was the firsttime he had ever suggested doing an errand, but, somehow, the wish tosit about the house prompted it as a sort of compensation for theprivilege. 

All day and all night it snowed, and the city began to suffer from ageneral blockade of traffic. Great attention was given to the detailsof the storm by the newspapers, which played up the distress of thepoor in large type. 

Hurstwood sat and read by his radiator in the corner. He did not tryto think about his need of work. This storm being so terrific, andtying up all things, robbed him of the need. He made himself whollycomfortable and toasted his feet. 

Carrie observed his ease with some misgiving. For all the fury of thestorm she doubted his comfort. He took his situation toophilosophically. 

Hurstwood, however, read on and on. He did not pay much attention toCarrie. She fulfilled her household duties and said little to disturbhim. 

The next day it was still snowing, and the next, bitter cold. Hurstwoodtook the alarm of the paper and sat still. Now he volunteered to do afew other little things. One was to go to the butcher, another to thegrocery. He really thought nothing of these little services inconnection with their true significance. He felt as if he were notwholly useless--indeed, in such a stress of weather, quite worth whileabout the house. 

On the fourth day, however, it cleared, and he read that the storm wasover. Now, however, he idled, thinking how sloppy the streets wouldbe. 

It was noon before he finally abandoned his papers and got under way. Owing to the slightly warmer temperature the streets were bad. He wentacross Fourteenth Street on the car and got a transfer south onBroadway. One little advertisement he had, relating to a saloon downin Pearl Street. When he reached the Broadway Central, however, hechanged his mind. 

"What's the use?" he thought, looking out upon the slop and snow. "Icouldn't buy into it. It's a thousand to one nothing comes of it. Iguess I'll get off, " and off he got. In the lobby he took a seat andwaited again, wondering what he could do. 

While he was idly pondering, satisfied to be inside, a well dressed manpassed up the lobby, stopped, looked sharply, as if not sure of hismemory, and then approached. Hurstwood recognized Cargill, the ownerof the large stables in Chicago of the same name, whom he had last seenat Avery Hall, the night Carrie appeared there. The remembrance of howthis individual brought up his wife to shake hands on that occasion wasalso on the instant clear. 

Hurstwood was greatly abashed. His eyes expressed the difficulty hefelt. 

"Why, it's Hurstwood!" said Cargill, remembering now, and sorry that hehad not recognized him quickly enough in the beginning to have avoidedthis meeting. 

"Yes, " said Hurstwood. "How are you?"

"Very well, " said Cargill, troubled for something to talk about. "Stopping here?"

"No, " said Hurstwood, "just keeping an appointment. " "I knew you hadleft Chicago. I was wondering what had become of you. "

"Oh, I'm here now, " answered Hurstwood, anxious to get away. 

"Doing well, I suppose?"

"Excellent. "

"Glad to hear it. "

They looked at one another, rather embarrassed. 

"Well, I have an engagement with a friend upstairs. I'll leave you. So long. "

Hurstwood nodded his head. 

"Damn it all, " he murmured, turning toward the door. "I knew thatwould happen. "

He walked several blocks up the street. His watch only registered1. 30. He tried to think of some place to go or something to do. Theday was so bad he wanted only to be inside. Finally his feet began tofeel wet and cold, and he boarded a car. This took him to Fifty-ninthStreet, which was as good as anywhere else. Landed here, he turned towalk back along Seventh Avenue, but the slush was too much. The miseryof lounging about with nowhere to go became intolerable. He felt as ifhe were catching cold. 

Stopping at a corner, he waited for a car south bound. This was no dayto be out; he would go home. 

Carrie was surprised to see him at a quarter of three. 

"It's a miserable day out, " was all he said. Then he took off his coatand changed his shoes. 

That night he felt a cold coming on and took quinine. He was feverishuntil 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-colored bath gown and his hair uncombed. He looked haggard about theeyes and quite old. Carrie noticed this, and it did not appeal to her. She wanted to be good-natured and sympathetic, but something about theman held her aloof. 

Toward evening he looked so badly in the weak light that she suggestedhe go to bed. 

"You'd better sleep alone, " she said, "you'll feel better. I'll openyour bed for you now. "

"All right, " he said. 

As she did all these things, she was in a most despondent state. 

"What a life! What a life!" was her one thought. 

Once during the day, when he sat near the radiator, hunched up andreading, she passed through, and seeing him, wrinkled her brows. Inthe front room, where it was not so warm, she sat by the window andcried. This was the life cut out for her, was it? To live cooped up ina small flat with some one who was out of work, idle, and indifferentto her. She was merely a servant to him now, nothing more. 

This crying made her eyes red, and when, in preparing his bed, shelighted the gas, and, having prepared it, called him in, he noticed thefact. 

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, looking into her face. Hisvoice was hoarse and his unkempt head only added to its gruesomequality. 

"Nothing, " said Carrie, weakly. 

"You've been crying, " he said. 

"I haven't, either, " she answered. 

It was not for love of him, that he knew. 

"You needn't cry, " he said, getting into bed. "Things will come outall right. "

In a day or two he was up again, but rough weather holding, he stayedin. The Italian news dealer now delivered the morning papers, andthese he read assiduously. A few times after that he ventured out, butmeeting another of his old-time friends, he began to feel uneasysitting about hotel corridors. 

Every day he came home early, and at last made no pretence of goinganywhere. Winter was no time to look for anything. 

Naturally, being about the house, he noticed the way Carrie did things. She was far from perfect in household methods and economy, and herlittle deviations on 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. EveryTuesday Carrie asked for her money. 

"Do you think we live as cheaply as we might?" he asked one Tuesdaymorning. 

"I do the best I can, " said Carrie. 

Nothing was added to this at the moment, but the next day he said:

"Do you ever go to the Gansevoort Market over here?"

"I didn't know there was such a market, " said Carrie. 

"They say you can get things lots cheaper there. "

Carrie was very indifferent to the suggestion. These were things whichshe did not like at all. 

"How much do you pay for a pound of meat?" he asked one day. 

"Oh, there are different prices, " said Carrie. "Sirloin steak istwenty-two cents. "

"That's steep, isn't it?" he answered. 

So he asked about other things, until finally, with the passing days, it seemed to become a mania with him. He learned the prices andremembered them. His errand-running capacity also improved. It beganin a small way, of course. Carrie, going to get her hat one morning, was stopped by him. 

"Where are you going, Carrie?" he asked. 

"Over to the baker's, " she answered. 

"I'd just as leave go for you, " he said. 

She acquiesced, and he went. Each afternoon he would go to the cornerfor the papers. 

"Is there anything you want?" he would say. 

By degrees she began to use him. Doing this, however, she lost theweekly payment of twelve dollars. 

"You want to pay me to-day, " she said one Tuesday, about this time. 

"How much?" he asked. 

She understood well enough what it meant. 

"Well, about five dollars, " she answered. "I owe the coal man. "

The same day he said:

"I think this Italian up here on the corner sells coal at twenty-fivecents a bushel. I'll trade with him. "

Carrie heard this with indifference. 

"All right, " she said. 

Then it came to be:

"George, I must have some coal to-day, " or, "You must get some meat ofsome kind for dinner. "

He would find out what she needed and order. 

Accompanying this plan came skimpiness. 

"I only got a half-pound of steak, " he said, coming in one afternoonwith his papers. "We never seem to eat very much. "

These miserable details ate the heart out of Carrie. They blackenedher days and grieved her soul. Oh, how this man had changed! All dayand all day, here he sat, reading his papers. The world seemed to haveno attraction. Once in a while he would go out, in fine weather, itmight be four or five hours, between eleven and four. She could donothing but view him with gnawing contempt. 

It was apathy with Hurstwood, resulting from his inability to see hisway out. Each month drew from his small store. Now, he had only fivehundred dollars left, and this he hugged, half feeling as if he couldstave off absolute necessity for an indefinite period. Sitting aroundthe house, he decided to wear some old clothes he had. This came firstwith the bad days. Only once he apologized in the very beginning:

"It's so bad to-day, I'll just wear these around. " Eventually thesebecame the permanent thing. 

Also, he had been wont to pay fifteen cents for a shave, and a tip often cents. In his first distress, he cut down the tip to five, then tonothing. Later, he tried a ten-cent barber shop, and, finding that theshave was satisfactory, patronized regularly. Later still, he put offshaving to every other day, then to every third, and so on, until oncea week became the rule. On Saturday he was a sight to see. 

Of course, as his own self-respect vanished, it perished for him inCarrie. She could not understand what had gotten into the man. He hadsome money, he had a decent suit remaining, he was not bad looking whendressed up. She did not forget her own difficult struggle in Chicago, but she did not forget either that she had never ceased trying. Henever tried. He did not even consult the ads in the papers any more. 

Finally, a distinct impression escaped from her. 

"What makes you put so much butter on the steak?" he asked her oneevening, standing around in the kitchen. 

"To make it good, of course, " she answered. 

"Butter is awful dear these days, " he suggested. 

"You wouldn't mind it if you were working, " she answered. 

He shut up after this, and went in to his paper, but the retort rankledin his mind. It was the first cutting remark that had come from her. 

That same evening, Carrie, after reading, went off to the front room tobed. This was unusual. When Hurstwood decided to go, he retired, asusual, without a light. It was then that he discovered Carrie'sabsence. 

"That's funny, " he said; "maybe she's sitting up. "

He gave the matter no more thought, but slept. In the morning she wasnot beside him. Strange to say, this passed without comment. 

Night approaching, and a slightly more conversational feelingprevailing, Carrie said:

"I think I'll sleep alone to-night. I have a headache. "

"All right, " said Hurstwood. 

The third night she went to her front bed without apologies. 

This was a grim blow to Hurstwood, but he never mentioned it. 

"All right, " he said to himself, with an irrepressible frown, "let hersleep alone. "

Chapter XXXVIA GRIM RETROGRESSION--THE PHANTOM OF CHANCE

 The Vances, who had been back in the city ever since Christmas, hadnot forgotten Carrie; but they, or rather Mrs. Vance, had never calledon her, for the very simple reason that Carrie had never sent heraddress. True to her nature, she corresponded with Mrs. Vance as longas she still lived in Seventy-eighth Street, but when she was compelledto move into Thirteenth, her fear that the latter would take it as anindication of reduced circumstances caused her to study some way ofavoiding the necessity of giving her address. Not finding anyconvenient method, she sorrowfully resigned the privilege of writing toher friend entirely. The latter wondered at this strange silence, thought Carrie must have left the city, and in the end gave her up aslost. So she was thoroughly surprised to encounter her in FourteenthStreet, where she had gone shopping. Carrie was there for the samepurpose. 

"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 beenwondering all this time what had become of you. Really, I----"

"I'm so glad to see you, " said Carrie, pleased and yet nonplussed. Ofall times, this was the worst to encounter Mrs. Vance. "Why, I'mliving down town here. I've been intending to come and see you. Whereare you living now?"

"In Fifty-eighth Street, " said Mrs. Vance, "just off Seventh Avenue--218. Why don't you come and see me?"

"I will, " said Carrie. "Really, I've been wanting to come. I know Iought to. It's a shame. But you know----"

"What's your number?" said Mrs. Vance. 

"Thirteenth Street, " said Carrie, reluctantly. "112 West. "

"Oh, " said Mrs. Vance, "that's right near here, isn't it?"

"Yes, " said Carrie. "You must come down and see me some time. "

"Well, you're a fine one, " said Mrs. Vance, laughing, the while notingthat Carrie's appearance had modified somewhat. "The address, too, "she added to herself. "They must be hard up. "

Still she liked Carrie well enough to take her in tow. 

"Come with me in here a minute, " she exclaimed, turning into a store. 

When Carrie returned home, there was Hurstwood, reading as usual. Heseemed to take his condition with the utmost nonchalance. His beardwas at least four days old. 

"Oh, " thought Carrie, "if she were to come here and see him?"

She shook her head in absolute misery. It looked as if her situationwas becoming unbearable. 

Driven to desperation, she asked at dinner:

"Did you ever hear any more from that wholesale house?"

"No, " he said. "They don't want an inexperienced man. "

Carrie dropped the subject, feeling unable to say more. 

"I met Mrs. Vance this afternoon, " she said, after a time. 

"Did, eh?" he answered. 

"They're back in New York now, " Carrie went on. "She did look sonice. "

"Well, she can afford it as long as he puts up for it, " returnedHurstwood. "He's got a soft job. "

Hurstwood was looking into the paper. He could not see the look ofinfinite weariness and discontent Carrie gave him. 

"She said she thought she'd call here some day. "

"She's been long getting round to it, hasn't she?" said Hurstwood, witha kind of sarcasm. 

The woman didn't appeal to him from her spending side. 

"Oh, I don't know, " said Carrie, angered by the man's attitude. "Perhaps I didn't want her to come. "

"She's too gay, " said Hurstwood, significantly. "No one can keep upwith her pace unless they've got a lot of money. "

"Mr. Vance doesn't seem to find it very hard. "

"He may not now, " answered Hurstwood, doggedly, well understanding theinference; "but his life isn't done yet. You can't tell what'llhappen. He may get down like anybody else. "

There was something quite knavish in the man's attitude. His eyeseemed to be cocked with a twinkle upon the fortunate, expecting theirdefeat. His own state seemed a thing apart--not considered. 

This thing was the remains of his old-time cocksureness andindependence. Sitting in his flat, and reading of the doings of otherpeople, sometimes this independent, undefeated mood came upon him. Forgetting the weariness of the streets and the degradation of search, he would sometimes prick up his ears. It was as if he said:

"I can do something. I'm not down yet. There's a lot of things comingto me if I want to go after them. "

It was in this mood that he would occasionally dress up, go for ashave, and, putting on his gloves, sally forth quite actively. Not withany definite aim. It was more a barometric condition. He felt justright for being outside and doing something. 

On such occasions, his money went also. He knew of several poker roomsdown town. A few acquaintances he had in downtown resorts and aboutthe City Hall. It was a change to see them and exchange a few friendlycommonplaces. 

He had once been accustomed to hold a pretty fair hand at poker. Many afriendly game had netted him a hundred dollars or more at the time whenthat sum was merely sauce to the dish of the game-not the all in all. Now, he thought of playing. 

"I might win a couple of hundred. I'm not out of practice. "

It is but fair to say that this thought had occurred to him severaltimes before he acted upon it. The poker room which he first invadedwas over a saloon in West Street, near one of the ferries. He had beenthere before. Several games were going. These he watched for a timeand noticed that the pots were quite large for the ante involved. 

"Deal me a hand, " he said at the beginning of a new shuffle. He pulledup a chair and studied his cards. Those playing made that quiet studyof him which is so unapparent, and yet invariably so searching. 

Poor fortune was with him at first. He received a mixed collectionwithout progression or pairs. The pot was opened. 

"I pass, " he said. 

On the strength of this, he was content to lose his ante. The dealsdid fairly by him in the long run, causing him to come away with a fewdollars to the good. 

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 abetter hand across the table, held by a pugnacious Irish youth, who wasa political hanger-on of the Tammany district in which they werelocated. Hurstwood was surprised at the persistence of thisindividual, whose bets came with a sangfroid which, if a bluff, wasexcellent art. Hurstwood began to doubt, but kept, or thought to keep, at least, the cool demeanor with which, in olden times, he deceivedthose psychic students of the gaming table, who seem to read thoughtsand moods, rather than exterior evidences, however subtle. He couldnot down the cowardly thought that this man had something better andwould stay to the end, drawing his last dollar into the pot, should hechoose to go so far. Still, he hoped to win much--his hand wasexcellent. Why not raise it five more?

"I raise you three, " said the youth. 

"Make it five, " said Hurstwood, pushing out his chips. 

"Come again, " said the youth, pushing out a small pile of reds. 

"Let me have some more chips, " said Hurstwood to the keeper in charge, taking out a bill. 

A cynical grin lit up the face of his youthful opponent. When thechips were laid out, Hurstwood met the raise. 

"Five again, " said the youth. 

Hurstwood's brow was wet. He was deep in now--very deep for him. Sixtydollars of his good money was up. He was ordinarily no coward, but thethought of losing so much weakened him. Finally he gave way. He wouldnot trust to this fine hand any longer. 

"I call, " he said. 

"A full house!" said the youth, spreading out his cards. 

Hurstwood's hand dropped. 

"I thought I had you, " he said, weakly. 

The youth raked in his chips, and Hurstwood came away, not withoutfirst stopping to count his remaining cash on the stair. 

"Three hundred and forty dollars, " he said. 

With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had already gone. 

Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more. 

Remembering Mrs. Vance's promise to call, Carrie made one other mildprotest. It was concerning Hurstwood's appearance. This very day, coming home, he changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in. 

"What makes you always put on those old clothes?" asked Carrie. 

"What's the use wearing my good ones around here?" he asked. 

"Well, I should think you'd feel better. " Then she added: "Some onemight call. "

"Who?" he said. 

"Well, Mrs. Vance, " said Carrie. 

"She needn't see me, " he answered, sullenly. 

This lack of pride and interest made Carrie almost hate him. 

"Oh, " she thought, "there he sits. 'She needn't see me. ' I shouldthink he would be ashamed of himself. "

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 thecommonplace hall, she knocked at Carrie's door. To her subsequent andagonizing distress, Carrie was out. Hurstwood opened the door, half-thinking that the knock was Carrie's. For once, he was taken honestlyaback. The lost voice of youth and pride spoke in him. 

"Why, " he said, actually stammering, "how do you do?"

"How do you do?" said Mrs. Vance, who could scarcely believe her eyes. His great confusion she instantly perceived. He did not know whetherto invite her in or not. 

"Is your wife at home?" she inquired. 

"No, " he said, "Carrie's out; but won't you step in? She'll be backshortly. "

"No-o, " said Mrs. Vance, realizing the change of it all. "I'm reallyvery much in a hurry. I thought I'd just run up and look in, but Icouldn't stay. Just tell your wife she must come and see me. "

"I will, " said Hurstwood, standing back, and feeling intense relief ather going. He was so ashamed that he folded his hands weakly, as hesat in the chair afterwards, and thought. 

Carrie, coming in from another direction, thought she saw Mrs. Vancegoing away. She strained her eyes, but could not make sure. 

"Was anybody here just now?" she asked of Hurstwood. 

"Yes, " he said guiltily; "Mrs. Vance. "

"Did she see you?" she asked, expressing her full despair. This cutHurstwood like a whip, and made him sullen. 

"If she had eyes, she did. I opened the door. "

"Oh, " said Carrie, closing one hand tightly out of sheer nervousness. "What did she have to say?"

"Nothing, " he answered. "She couldn't stay. "

"And you looking like that!" said Carrie, throwing aside a longreserve. 

"What of it?" he said, angering. "I didn't know she was coming, didI?"

"You knew she might, " said Carrie. "I told you she said she wascoming. I've asked you a dozen times to wear your other clothes. Oh, Ithink this is just terrible. "

"Oh, let up, " he answered. "What difference does it make? You couldn'tassociate with her, anyway. They've got too much money. 

"Who said I wanted to?" said Carrie, fiercely. 

"Well, you act like it, rowing around over my looks. You'd think I'dcommitted----"

Carrie interrupted:

"It's true, " she said. "I couldn't if I wanted to, but whose fault isit? You're very free to sit and talk about who I could associate with. Why don't you get out and look for work?"

This was a thunderbolt in camp. 

"What's it to you?" he said, rising, almost fiercely. "I pay the rent, don't I? I furnish the----"

"Yes, you pay the rent, " said Carrie. "You talk as if there wasnothing else in the world but a flat to sit around in. You haven'tdone a thing for three months except sit around and interfere here. I'd like to know what you married me for?"

"I didn't marry you, " he said, in a snarling tone. 

"I'd like to know what you did, then, in Montreal?" she answered. 

"Well, I didn't marry you, " he answered. "You can get that out of yourhead. You talk as though you didn't know. "

Carrie looked at him a moment, her eyes distending. She had believedit was all legal and binding enough. 

"What did you lie to me for, then?" she asked, fiercely. "What did youforce me to run away with you for?"

Her voice became almost a sob. 

"Force!" he said, with curled lip. "A lot of forcing I did. "

"Oh!" said Carrie, breaking under the strain, and turning. "Oh, oh!"and she hurried into the front room. 

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 thenwent for his clothes and dressed. Not a sound came from Carrie; sheceased sobbing when she heard him dressing. She thought, at first, withthe faintest alarm, of being left without money--not of losing him, though he might be going away permanently. She heard him open the topof the wardrobe and take out his hat. Then the dining-room doorclosed, and she knew he had gone. 

After a few moments of silence, she stood up, dry-eyed, and looked outthe window. Hurstwood was just strolling up the street, from the flat, toward Sixth Avenue. 

The latter made progress along Thirteenth and across Fourteenth Streetto Union Square. 

"Look for work!" he said to himself. "Look for work! She tells me toget out and look for work. "

He tried to shield himself from his own mental accusation, which toldhim that she was right. 

"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. "

He remembered the few times he had seen her in Seventy-eight Street. She was always a swell-looker, and he had tried to put on the air ofbeing worthy of such as she, in front of her. Now, to think she hadcaught him looking this way. He wrinkled his forehead in his distress. 

"The devil!" he said a dozen times in an hour. 

It was a quarter after four when he left the house. Carrie was intears. There would be no dinner that night. 

"What the deuce, " he said, swaggering mentally to hide his own shamefrom himself. "I'm not so bad. I'm not down yet. "

He looked around the square, and seeing the several large hotels, decided to go to one for dinner. He would get his papers and makehimself comfortable there. 

He ascended into the fine parlor of the Morton House, then one of thebest New York hotels, and, finding a cushioned seat, read. It did nottrouble him much that his decreasing sum of money did not allow of suchextravagance. Like the morphine fiend, he was becoming addicted to hisease. Anything to relieve his mental distress, to satisfy his cravingfor comfort. He must do it. No thoughts for the morrow--he could notstand 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 soonbeing without a dollar completely out of his mind, and he came verynear doing it. 

Well-dressed guests moving to and fro over the thick carpets carriedhim back to the old days. A young lady, a guest of the house, playinga piano in an alcove pleased him. He sat there reading. 

His dinner cost him $1. 50. By eight o'clock he was through, and then, seeing guests leaving and the crowd of pleasure-seekers thickeningoutside wondered where he should go. Not home. Carrie would be up. No, he would not go back there this evening. He would stay out andknock around as a man who was independent-not broke--well might. Hebought a cigar, and went outside on the corner where other individualswere lounging--brokers, racing people, thespians--his own flesh andblood. 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. Thistook him to poker. 

"I didn't do that thing right the other day, " he thought, referring tohis loss of sixty dollars. "I shouldn't have weakened. I could havebluffed that fellow down. I wasn't in form, that's what ailed me. "

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, bybluffing a little harder. 

"I'm old enough to play poker and do something with it. I'll try myhand to-night. "

Visions of a big stake floated before him. Supposing he did win acouple of hundred, wouldn't he be in it? Lots of sports he knew madetheir living at this game, and a good living, too. 

"They always had as much as I had, " he thought. 

So off he went to a poker room in the neighborhood, feeling much as hehad in the old days. In this period of self-forgetfulness, arousedfirst 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 ashe would ever be again. It was not the old Hurstwood--only a manarguing with a divided conscience and lured by a phantom. 

This poker room was much like the other one, only it was a back room ina better drinking resort. Hurstwood watched a while, and then, seeingan interesting game, joined in. As before, it went easy for a while, he winning a few times and cheering up, losing a few pots and growingmore interested and determined on that account. At last thefascinating game took a strong hold on him. He enjoyed its risks andventured, on a trifling hand, to bluff the company and secure a fairstake. To his self-satisfaction intense and strong, he did it. 

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, andagain he tried to open the jack-pot on it. There were others there whowere almost reading his heart, so close was their observation. 

"I have three of a kind, " said one of the players to himself. "I'lljust stay with that fellow to the finish. "

The result was that bidding began. 

"I raise you ten. "

"Good. "

"Ten more. "

"Good. "

"Ten again. "

"Right you are. "

It got to where Hurstwood had seventy-five dollars up. The other manreally became serious. Perhaps this individual (Hurstwood) really didhave a stiff hand. 

"I call, " he said. 

Hurstwood showed his hand. He was done. The bitter fact that he hadlost seventy-five dollars made him desperate. 

"Let's have another pot, " he said, grimly. 

"All right, " said the man. 

Some of the other players quit, but observant loungers took theirplaces. Time passed, and it came to twelve o'clock. Hurstwood heldon, neither winning nor losing much. Then he grew weary, and on a lasthand lost twenty more. He was sick at heart. 

At a quarter after one in the morning he came out of the place. Thechill, bare streets seemed a mockery of his state. He walked slowlywest, little thinking of his row with Carrie. He ascended the stairsand went into his room as if there had been no trouble. It was hisloss that occupied his mind. Sitting down on the bedside he countedhis money. There was now but a hundred and ninety dollars and somechange. He put it up and began to undress. 

"I wonder what's getting into me, anyhow?" he said. 

In the morning Carrie scarcely spoke and he felt as if he must go outagain. 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, helived like a gentleman--or what he conceived to be a gentleman--whichtook money. For his escapades he was soon poorer in mind and body, tosay nothing of his purse, which had lost thirty by the process. Thenhe came down to cold, bitter sense again. 

"The rent man comes to-day, " said Carrie, greeting him thusindifferently three mornings later. 

"He does?"

"Yes; this is the second, " answered Carrie. 

Hurstwood frowned. Then in despair he got out his purse. 

"It seems an awful lot to pay for rent, " he said. 

He was nearing his last hundred dollars. 

Chapter XXXVIITHE SPIRIT AWAKENS--NEW SEARCH FOR THE GATE

 It would be useless to explain how in due time the last fifty dollarswas in sight. The seven hundred, by his process of handling, had onlycarried them into June. Before the final hundred mark was reached hebegan to indicate that a calamity was approaching. 

"I don't know, " he said one day, taking a trivial expenditure for meatas a text, "it seems to take an awful lot for us to live. "

"It doesn't seem to me, " said Carrie, "that we spend very much. "

"My money is nearly gone, " he said, "and I hardly know where it's goneto. "

"All that seven hundred dollars?" asked Carrie. 

"All but a hundred. "

He looked so disconsolate that it scared her. She began to see thatshe herself had been drifting. She had felt it all the time. 

"Well, George, " she exclaimed, "why don't you get out and look forsomething? You could find something. "

"I have looked, " he said. "You can t make people give you a place. "

She gazed weakly at him and said: "Well, what do you think you will do?A hundred dollars won't last long. "

"I don't know, " he said. "I can't do any more than look. "

Carrie became frightened over this announcement. She thoughtdesperately upon the subject. Frequently she had considered the stageas a door through which she might enter that gilded state which she hadso much craved. Now, as in Chicago, it came as a last resource indistress. Something must be done if he did not get work soon. Perhapsshe would have to go out and battle again alone. 

She began to wonder how one would go about getting a place. Herexperience in Chicago proved that she had not tried the right way. There must be people who would listen to and try you--men who wouldgive you an opportunity. 

They were talking at the breakfast table, a morning or two later, whenshe brought up the dramatic subject by saying that she saw that SarahBernhardt was coming to this country. Hurstwood had seen it, too. 

"How do people get on the stage, George?" she finally asked, innocently. 

"I don't know, " he said. "There must be dramatic agents. "

Carrie was sipping coffee, and did not look up. 

"Regular people who get you a place?"

"Yes, I think so, " he answered. 

Suddenly the air with which she asked attracted his attention. 

"You're not still thinking about being an actress, are you?" he asked. 

"No, " she answered, "I was just wondering. "

Without being clear, there was something in the thought which heobjected to. He did not believe any more, after three years ofobservation, that Carrie would ever do anything great in that line. She seemed too simple, too yielding. His idea of the art was that itinvolved something more pompous. If she tried to get on the stage shewould fall into the hands of some cheap manager and become like therest of them. He had a good idea of what he meant by THEM. Carrie waspretty. She would get along all right, but where would he be?

"I'd get that idea out of my head, if I were you. It's a lot moredifficult than you think. "

Carrie felt this to contain, in some way, an aspersion upon herability. 

"You said I did real well in Chicago, " she rejoined. 

"You did, " he answered, seeing that he was arousing opposition, "butChicago isn't New York, by a big jump. "

Carrie did not answer this at all. It hurt her. 

"The stage, " he went on, "is all right if you can be one of the bigguns, but there's nothing to the rest of it. It takes a long while toget up. "

"Oh, I don't know, " said Carrie, slightly aroused. 

In a flash, he thought he foresaw the result of this thing. Now, whenthe worst of his situation was approaching, she would get on the stagein some cheap way and forsake him. Strangely, he had not conceivedwell of her mental ability. That was because he did not understand thenature of emotional greatness. He had never learned that a personmight be emotionally--instead of intellectually--great. Avery Hall wastoo far away for him to look back and sharply remember. He had livedwith this woman too long. 

"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. "

"It's better than going hungry, " said Carrie. "If you don't want me todo that, why don't you get work yourself?"

There was no answer ready for this. He had got used to the suggestion. 

"Oh, let up, " he answered. 

The result of this was that she secretly resolved to try. It didn'tmatter about him. She was not going to be dragged into poverty andsomething worse to suit him. She could act. She could get somethingand then work up. What would he say then? She pictured herself alreadyappearing in some fine performance on Broadway; of going every eveningto her dressing-room and making up. Then she would come out at eleveno'clock and see the carriages ranged about, waiting for the people. Itdid not matter whether she was the star or not. If she were only oncein, getting a decent salary, wearing the kind of clothes she liked, having the money to do with, going here and there as she pleased, howdelightful it would all be. Her mind ran over this picture all the daylong. Hurstwood's dreary state made its beauty become more and morevivid. 

Curiously this idea soon took hold of Hurstwood. His vanishing sumsuggested that he would need sustenance. Why could not Carrie assisthim a little until he could get something?

He came in one day with something of this idea in his mind. 

"I met John B. Drake to-day, " he said. "He's going to open a hotelhere in the fall. He says that he can make a place for me then. "

"Who is he?" asked Carrie. 

"He's the man that runs the Grand Pacific in Chicago. "

"Oh, " said Carrie. 

"I'd get about fourteen hundred a year out of that. "

"That would be good, wouldn't it?" she said, sympathetically. 

"If I can only get over this summer, " he added, "I think I'll be allright. I'm hearing from some of my friends again. "

Carrie swallowed this story in all its pristine beauty. She sincerelywished he could get through the summer. He looked so hopeless. 

"How much money have you left?"

"Only fifty dollars. "

"Oh, mercy, " she exclaimed, "what will we do? It's only twenty daysuntil the rent will be due again. "

Hurstwood rested his head on his hands and looked blankly at the floor. 

"Maybe you could get something in the stage line?" he blandlysuggested. 

"Maybe I could, " said Carrie, glad that some one approved of the idea. 

"I'll lay my hand to whatever I can get, " he said, now that he saw herbrighten up. "I can get something. "

She cleaned up the things one morning after he had gone, dressed asneatly as her wardrobe permitted, and set out for Broadway. She did notknow that thoroughfare very well. To her it was a wonderfulconglomeration of everything great and mighty. The theatres werethere--these agencies must be somewhere about. 

She decided to stop in at the Madison Square Theatre and ask how tofind the theatrical agents. This seemed the sensible way. Accordingly, when she reached that theatre she applied to the clerk at the boxoffice. 

"Eh?" he said, looking out. "Dramatic agents? I don't know. You'llfind them in the 'Clipper, ' though. They all advertise in that. "

"Is that a paper?" said Carrie. 

"Yes, " said the clerk, marveling at such ignorance of a common fact. "You can get it at the news-stands, " he added politely, seeing howpretty the inquirer was. 

Carrie proceeded to get the "Clipper, " and tried to find the agents bylooking over it as she stood beside the stand. This could not be doneso easily. Thirteenth Street was a number of blocks off, but she wentback, carrying the precious paper and regretting the waste of time. 

Hurstwood was already there, sitting in his place. 

"Where were you?" he asked. 

"I've been trying to find some dramatic agents. "

He felt a little diffident about asking concerning her success. Thepaper she began to scan attracted his attention. 

"What have you got there?" he asked. 

"The 'Clipper. ' The man said I'd find their addresses in here. "

"Have you been all the way over to Broadway to find that out? I couldhave told you. "

"Why didn't you?" she asked, without looking up. 

"You never asked me, " he returned. 

She went hunting aimlessly through the crowded columns. Her mind wasdistracted by this man's indifference. The difficulty of the situationshe was facing was only added to by all he did. Self commiserationbrewed in her heart. Tears trembled along her eyelids but did notfall. Hurstwood noticed something. 

"Let me look. "

To recover herself she went into the front room while he searched. Presently she returned. He had a pencil, and was writing upon anenvelope. 

"Here're three, " he said. 

Carrie took it and found that one was Mrs. Bermudez, another MarcusJenks, a third Percy Weil. She paused only a moment, and then movedtoward the door. 

"I might as well go right away, " she said, without looking back. 

Hurstwood saw her depart with some faint stirrings of shame, which werethe expression of a manhood rapidly becoming stultified. He sat awhile, and then it became too much. He got up and put on his hat. 

"I guess I'll go out, " he said to himself, and went, strolling nowherein particular, but feeling somehow that he must go. 

Carrie's first call was upon Mrs. Bermudez, whose address was quite thenearest. It was an old-fashioned residence turned into offices. Mrs. Bermudez's offices consisted of what formerly had been a back chamberand a hall bedroom, marked "Private. "

As Carrie entered she noticed several persons lounging about-men, whosaid nothing and did nothing. 

While she was waiting to be noticed, the door of the hall bedroomopened and from it issued two very mannish-looking women, very tightlydressed, and wearing white collars and cuffs. After them came a portlylady of about forty-five, light-haired, sharp-eyed, and evidently good-natured. At least she was smiling. 

"Now, don't forget about that, " said one of the mannish women. 

"I won't, " said the portly woman. "Let's see, " she added, "where areyou the first week in February?" "Pittsburgh, " said the woman. 

"I'll write you there. "

"All right, " said the other, and the two passed out. 

Instantly the portly lady's face became exceedingly sober and shrewd. She turned about and fixed on Carrie a very searching eye. 

"Well, " she said, "young woman, what can I do for you?"

"Are you Mrs. Bermudez?"

"Yes. "

"Well, " said Carrie, hesitating how to begin, "do you get places forpersons upon the stage?"

"Yes. "

"Could you get me one?"

"Have you ever had any experience?"

"A very little, " said Carrie. 

"Whom did you play with?"

"Oh, with no one, " said Carrie. "It was just a show gotten----"

"Oh, I see, " said the woman, interrupting her. "No, I don't know ofanything now. "

Carrie's countenance fell. 

"You want to get some New York experience, " concluded the affable Mrs. Bermudez. "We'll take your name, though. "

Carrie stood looking while the lady retired to her office. 

"What is your address?" inquired a young lady behind the counter, taking up the curtailed conversation. 

"Mrs. George Wheeler, " said Carrie, moving over to where she waswriting. The woman wrote her address in full and then allowed her todepart at her leisure. 

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 somelocal house, or had a program with your name on it, I might dosomething. "

In the third place the individual asked:

"What sort of work do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" said Carrie. 

"Well, do you want to get in a comedy or on the vaudeville or in thechorus?"

"Oh, I'd like to get a part in a play, " said Carrie. 

"Well, " said the man, "it'll cost you something to do that. " "Howmuch?" said Carrie, who, ridiculous as it may seem, had not thought ofthis before. 

"Well, that's for you to say, " he answered shrewdly. 

Carrie looked at him curiously. She hardly knew how to continue theinquiry. 

"Could you get me a part if I paid?"

"If we didn't you'd get your money back. "

"Oh, " she said. 

The agent saw he was dealing with an inexperienced soul, and continuedaccordingly. 

"You'd want to deposit fifty dollars, anyway. No agent would troubleabout you for less than that. "

Carrie saw a light. 

"Thank you, " she said. "I'll think about it. "

She started to go, and then bethought herself. 

"How soon would I get a place?" she asked. 

"Well, that's hard to say, " said the man. "You might get one in aweek, or it might be a month. You'd get the first thing that wethought you could do. "

"I see, " said Carrie, and then, half-smiling to be agreeable, shewalked out. 

The agent studied a moment, and then said to himself:

"It's funny how anxious these women are to get on the stage. "

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. She could get fifty dollars for those if she went to a pawnbroker. 

Hurstwood was home before her. He had not thought she would be so longseeking. 

"Well?" he said, not venturing to ask what news. 

"I didn't find out anything to-day, " said Carrie, taking off hergloves. "They all want money to get you a place. "

"How much?" asked Hurstwood. 

"Fifty dollars. "

"They don't want anything, do they?"

"Oh, they're like everybody else. You can't tell whether they'd everget you anything after you did pay them. "

"Well, I wouldn't put up fifty on that basis, " said Hurstwood, as if hewere deciding, money in hand. 

"I don't know, " said Carrie. "I think I'll try some of the managers. "

Hurstwood heard this, dead to the horror of it. He rocked a little toand fro, and chewed at his finger. It seemed all very natural in suchextreme states. He would do better later on. 

\

Chapter XXXVIIIIN ELF LAND DISPORTING--THE GRIM WORLD WITHOUT

 When Carrie renewed her search, as she did the next day, going to theCasino, she found that in the opera chorus, as in other fields, employment is difficult to secure. Girls who can stand in a line andlook pretty are as numerous as labourers who can swing a pick. Shefound there was no discrimination between one and the other ofapplicants, save as regards a conventional standard of prettiness andform. Their own opinion or knowledge of their ability went fornothing. 

"Where shall I find Mr. Gray?" she asked of a sulky doorman at thestage entrance of the Casino. 

"You can't see him now; he's busy. "

"Do you know when I can see him?"

"Got an appointment with him?"

"No. "

"Well, you'll have to call at his office. "

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Carrie. "Where is his office?"

He gave her the number. 

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. 

The dismal story of ventures in other places is quickly told. Mr. Dalysaw no one save by appointment. Carrie waited an hour in a dingyoffice, quite in spite of obstacles, to learn this fact of the placid, indifferent Mr. Dorney. 

"You will have to write and ask him to see you. "

So she went away. 

At the Empire Theatre she found a hive of peculiarly listless andindifferent individuals. Everything ornately upholstered, everythingcarefully finished, everything remarkably reserved. 

At the Lyceum she entered one of those secluded, under-stairwayclosets, berugged and bepaneled, which causes one to feel the greatnessof all positions of authority. Here was reserve itself done into abox-office clerk, a doorman, and an assistant, glorying in their finepositions. 

"Ah, be very humble now--very humble indeed. Tell us what it is yourequire. 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. "

This was the atmosphere of the Lyceum--the attitude, for that matter, of every managerial office in the city. These little proprietors ofbusinesses are lords indeed on their own ground. 

Carrie came away wearily, somewhat more abashed for her pains. 

Hurstwood heard the details of the weary and unavailing search thatevening. 

"I didn't get to see any one, " said Carrie. "I just walked, andwalked, and waited around. "

Hurstwood only looked at her. 

"I suppose you have to have some friends before you can get in, " sheadded, disconsolately. 

Hurstwood saw the difficulty of this thing, and yet it did not seem soterrible. Carrie was tired and dispirited, but now she could rest. Viewing the world from his rocking-chair, its bitterness did not seemto approach so rapidly. To-morrow was another day. 

To-morrow came, and the next, and the next. 

Carrie saw the manager at the Casino once. 

"Come around, " he said, "the first of next week. I may make somechanges then. "

He was a large and corpulent individual, surfeited with good clothesand good eating, who judged women as another would horseflesh. Carriewas pretty and graceful. She might be put in even if she did not haveany experience. One of the proprietors had suggested that the choruswas a little weak on looks. 

The first of next week was some days off yet. The first of the monthwas drawing near. Carrie began to worry as she had never worriedbefore. 

"Do you really look for anything when you go out?" she asked Hurstwoodone morning as a climax to some painful thoughts of her own. 

"Of course I do, " he said pettishly, troubling only a little over thedisgrace of the insinuation. 

"I'd take anything, " she said, "for the present. It will soon be thefirst of the month again. "

She looked the picture of despair. 

Hurstwood quit reading his paper and changed his clothes. 

"He would look for something, " he thought. "He would go and see ifsome brewery couldn't get him in somewhere. Yes, he would take aposition as bartender, if he could get it. "

It was the same sort of pilgrimage he had made before. One or twoslight rebuffs, and the bravado disappeared. 

"No use, " he thought. "I might as well go on back home. "

Now that his money was so low, he began to observe his clothes and feelthat even his best ones were beginning to look commonplace. This was abitter thought. 

Carrie came in after he did. 

"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. "

"I saw some of the brewery people to-day, " said Hurstwood. "One mantold me he'd try to make a place for me in two or three weeks. "

In the face of so much distress on Carrie's part, he had to make someshowing, and it was thus he did so. It was lassitude's apology toenergy. 

Monday Carrie went again to the Casino. 

"Did I tell you to come around to day?" said the manager, looking herover as she stood before him. 

"You said the first of the week, " said Carrie, greatly abashed. 

"Ever had any experience?" he asked again, almost severely. 

Carrie owned to ignorance. 

He looked her over again as he stirred among some papers. He wassecretly pleased with this pretty, disturbed-looking young woman. "Comearound to the theatre to-morrow morning. "

Carrie's heart bounded to her throat. 

"I will, " she said with difficulty. She could see he wanted her, andturned to go. 

"Would he really put her to work? Oh, blessed fortune, could it be?"

Already the hard rumble of the city through the open windows becamepleasant. 

A sharp voice answered her mental interrogation, driving away allimmediate fears on that score. 

"Be sure you're there promptly, " the manager said roughly. "You'll bedropped if you're not. "

Carrie hastened away. She did not quarrel now with Hurstwood'sidleness. She had a place--she had a place! This sang in her ears. 

In her delight she was almost anxious to tell Hurstwood. But, as shewalked 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 weeksand his lounging in idleness for a number of months. 

"Why don't he get something?" she openly said to herself. "If I can hesurely ought to. It wasn't very hard for me. "

She forgot her youth and her beauty. The handicap of age she did not, in her enthusiasm, perceive. 

Thus, ever, the voice of success. Still, she could not keep her secret. She tried to be calm and indifferent, but it was a palpable sham. 

"Well?" he said, seeing her relieved face. 

"I have a place. "

"You have?" he said, breathing a better breath. 

"Yes. "

"What sort of a place is it?" he asked, feeling in his veins as if nowhe might get something good also. 

"In the chorus, " she answered. 

"Is it the Casino show you told me about?"

"Yes, " she answered. "I begin rehearsing to-morrow. "

There was more explanation volunteered by Carrie, because she washappy. At last Hurstwood said:

"Do you know how much you'll get?"

"No, I didn't want to ask, " said Carrie. "I guess they pay twelve orfourteen dollars a week. "

"About that, I guess, " said Hurstwood. 

There was a good dinner in the flat that evening, owing to the merelifting of the terrible strain. Hurstwood went out for a shave, andreturned with a fair-sized sirloin steak. 

"Now, to-morrow, " he thought, "I'll look around myself, " and withrenewed hope he lifted his eyes from the ground. 

On the morrow Carrie reported promptly and was given a place in theline. She saw a large, empty, shadowy play-house, still redolent ofthe perfumes and blazonry of the night, and notable for its rich, oriental appearance. The wonder of it awed and delighted her. Blessedbe its wondrous reality. How hard she would try to be worthy of it. It was above the common mass, above idleness, above want, aboveinsignificance. People came to it in finery and carriages to see. Itwas ever a center of light and mirth. And here she was of it. Oh, ifshe could only remain, how happy would be her days!

"What is your name?" said the manager, who was conducting the drill. 

"Madenda, " she replied, instantly mindful of the name Drouet hadselected in Chicago. "Carrie Madenda. "

"Well, now, Miss Madenda, " he said, very affably, as Carrie thought, "you go over there. "

Then he called to a young woman who was already of the company:

"Miss Clark, you pair with Miss Madenda. "

This young lady stepped forward, so that Carrie saw where to go, andthe rehearsal began. 

Carrie soon found that while this drilling had some slight resemblanceto the rehearsals as conducted at Avery Hall, the attitude of themanager was much more pronounced. She had marveled at the insistenceand superior airs of Mr. Millice, but the individual conducting herehad the same insistence, coupled with almost brutal roughness. As thedrilling proceeded, he seemed to wax exceedingly wroth over trifles, and to increase his lung power in proportion. It was very evident thathe had a great contempt for any assumption of dignity or innocence onthe part of these young women. 

"Clark, " he would call--meaning, of course, Miss Clark--"why don't youcatch step there?"

"By fours, right! Right, I said, right! For heaven's sake, get on toyourself! Right!" and in saying this he would lift the last sounds intoa vehement roar. 

"Maitland! Maitland!" he called once. 

A nervous, comely-dressed little girl stepped out. Carrie trembled forher out of the fullness of her own sympathies and fear. 

"Yes, sir, " said Miss Maitland. 

"Is there anything the matter with your ears?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you know what 'column left' means?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, what are you stumbling around the right for? Want to break upthe line?"

"I was just"

"Never mind what you were just. Keep your ears open. "

Carrie pitied, and trembled for her turn. 

Yet another suffered the pain of personal rebuke. 

"Hold on a minute, " cried the manager, throwing up his hands, as if indespair. His demeanor was fierce. 

"Elvers, " he shouted, "what have you got in your mouth?"

"Nothing, " said Miss Elvers, while some smiled and stood nervously by. 

"Well, are you talking?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, keep your mouth still then. Now, all together again. "

At last Carrie's turn came. It was because of her extreme anxiety todo all that was required that brought on the trouble. 

She heard some one called. 

"Mason, " said the voice. "Miss Mason. "

She looked around to see who it could be. A girl behind shoved her alittle, but she did not understand. 

"You, you!" said the manager. "Can't you hear?"

"Oh, " said Carrie, collapsing, and blushing fiercely. 

"Isn't your name Mason?" asked the manager. 

"No, sir, " said Carrie, "it's Madenda. "

"Well, what's the matter with your feet? Can't you dance?"

"Yes, sir, " said Carrie, who had long since learned this art. 

"Why don't you do it then? Don't go shuffling along as if you weredead. I've got to have people with life in them. "

Carrie's cheek burned with a crimson heat. Her lips trembled a little. 

"Yes, sir, " she said. 

It was this constant urging, coupled with irascibility and energy, forthree long hours. Carrie came away worn enough in body, but tooexcited in mind to notice it. She meant to go home and practice herevolutions as prescribed. She would not err in any way, if she couldhelp it. 

When she reached the flat Hurstwood was not there. For a wonder he wasout looking for work, as she supposed. She took only a mouthful to eatand then practiced on, sustained by visions of freedom from financialdistress--"The sound of glory ringing in her ears. "

When Hurstwood returned he was not so elated as when he went away, andnow she was obliged to drop practice and get dinner. Here was an earlyirritation. She would have her work and this. Was she going to act andkeep house?

"I'll not do it, " she said, "after I get started. He can take hismeals out. "

Each day thereafter brought its cares. She found it was not such awonderful thing to be in the chorus, and she also learned that hersalary would be twelve dollars a week. After a few days she had herfirst sight of those high and mighties--the leading ladies andgentlemen. She saw that they were privileged and deferred to. She wasnothing--absolutely nothing at all. 

At home was Hurstwood, daily giving her cause for thought. He seemedto get nothing to do, and yet he made bold to inquire how she wasgetting along. The regularity with which he did this smacked of someone who was waiting to live upon her labor. Now that she had a visiblemeans of support, this irritated her. He seemed to be depending uponher little twelve dollars. 

"How are you getting along?" he would blandly inquire. 

"Oh, all right, " she would reply. 

"Find it easy?"

"It will be all right when I get used to it. "

His paper would then engross his thoughts. 

"I got some lard, " he would add, as an afterthought. "I thought maybeyou might want to make some biscuit. "

The calm suggestion of the man astonished her a little, especially inthe light of recent developments. Her dawning independence gave hermore 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 wassomething in the man's manner of which she had always stood in awe. Heseemed to have some invisible strength in reserve. 

One day, after her first week's rehearsal, what she expected cameopenly to the surface. 

"We'll have to be rather saving, " he said, laying down some meat he hadpurchased. "You won't get any money for a week or so yet. "

"No, " said Carrie, who was stirring a pan at the stove. 

"I've only got the rent and thirteen dollars more, " he added. 

"That's it, " she said to herself. "I'm to use my money now. "

Instantly she remembered that she had hoped to buy a few things forherself. She needed clothes. Her hat was not nice. 

"What will twelve dollars do towards keeping up this flat?" shethought. "I can't do it. Why doesn't he get something to do?"

The important night of the first real performance came. She did notsuggest 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. 

The advertisements were already in the papers; the posters upon thebill-boards. The leading lady and many members were cited. Carrie wasnothing. 

As in Chicago, she was seized with stage fright as the very firstentrance of the ballet approached, but later she recovered. Theapparent and painful insignificance of the part took fear away fromher. She felt that she was so obscure it did not matter. Fortunately, she did not have to wear tights. A group of twelve were assignedpretty golden-hued skirts which came only to a line about an inch abovethe knee. Carrie happened to be one of the twelve. 

In standing about the stage, marching, and occasionally lifting up hervoice in the general chorus, she had a chance to observe the audienceand to see the inauguration of a great hit. There was plenty ofapplause, but she could not help noting how poorly some of the women ofalleged ability did. 

"I could do better than that, " Carrie ventured to herself, in severalinstances. To do her justice, she was right. 

After it was over she dressed quickly, and as the manager had scoldedsome others and passed her, she imagined she must have provedsatisfactory. She wanted to get out quickly, because she knew but few, and the stars were gossiping. Outside were carriages and some correctyouths in attractive clothing, waiting. Carrie saw that she wasscanned closely. The flutter of an eyelash would have brought her acompanion. That she did not give. 

One experienced youth volunteered, anyhow. 

"Not going home alone, are you?" he said. 

Carrie merely hastened her steps and took the Sixth Avenue car. Herhead was so full of the wonder of it that she had time for nothingelse. 

"Did you hear any more from the brewery?" she asked at the end of theweek, hoping by the question to stir him on to action. 

"No, " he answered, "they're not quite ready yet. I think somethingwill come of that, though. "

She said nothing more then, objecting to giving up her own money, andyet feeling that such would have to be the case. Hurstwood felt thecrisis, and artfully decided to appeal to Carrie. He had long sincerealized how good-natured she was, how much she would stand. There wassome little shame in him at the thought of doing so, but he justifiedhimself with the thought that he really would get something. Rent daygave him his opportunity. 

"Well, " he said, as he counted it out, "that's about the last of mymoney. I'll have to get something pretty soon. "

Carrie looked at him askance, half-suspicious of an appeal. 

"If I could only hold out a little longer I think I could getsomething. Drake is sure to open a hotel here in September. "

"Is he?" said Carrie, thinking of the short month that still remaineduntil that time. 

"Would you mind helping me out until then?" he said appealingly. "Ithink I'll be all right after that time. "

"No, " said Carrie, feeling sadly handicapped by fate. 

"We can get along if we economies. I'll pay you back all right. "

"Oh, I'll help you, " said Carrie, feeling quite hardhearted at thusforcing him to humbly appeal, and yet her desire for the benefit of herearnings wrung a faint protest from her. 

"Why don't you take anything, George, temporarily?" she said. "Whatdifference does it make? Maybe, after a while, you'll get somethingbetter. "

"I will take anything, " he said, relieved, and wincing under reproof. "I'd just as leave dig on the streets. Nobody knows me here. "

"Oh, you needn't do that, " said Carrie, hurt by the pity of it. "Butthere must be other things. "

"I'll get something!" he said, assuming determination. 

Then he went back to his paper. 

Chapter XXXIXOF LIGHTS AND OF SHADOWS--THE PARTING OF WORLDS

 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. 

Her need of clothes--to say nothing of her desire for ornaments-grewrapidly as the fact developed that for all her work she was not to havethem. The sympathy she felt for Hurstwood, at the time he asked her totide him over, vanished with these newer urgings of decency. He wasnot always renewing his request, but this love of good appearance was. It insisted, and Carrie wished to satisfy it, wished more and more thatHurstwood was not in the way. 

Hurstwood reasoned, when he neared the last ten dollars, that he hadbetter keep a little pocket change and not become wholly dependent forcar-fare, shaves, and the like; so when this sum was still in his handhe announced himself as penniless. 

"I'm clear out, " he said to Carrie one afternoon. "I paid for somecoal this morning, and that took all but ten or fifteen cents. "

"I've got some money there in my purse. "

Hurstwood went to get it, starting for a can of tomatoes. Carriescarcely noticed that this was the beginning of the new order. He tookout fifteen cents and bought the can with it. Thereafter it was dribsand drabs of this sort, until one morning Carrie suddenly rememberedthat she would not be back until close to dinner time. 

"We're all out of flour, " she said; "you'd better get some thisafternoon. We haven't any meat, either. How would it do if we hadliver and bacon?"

"Suits me, " said Hurstwood. 

"Better get a half or three-quarters of a pound of that. "

"Half'll be enough, " volunteered Hurstwood. 

She opened her purse and laid down a half dollar. He pretended not tonotice it. 

Hurstwood bought the flour--which all grocers sold in 3 1/2-poundpackages--for thirteen cents and paid fifteen cents for a half pound ofliver and bacon. He left the packages, together with the balance oftwenty-two cents, upon the kitchen table, where Carrie found it. Itdid not escape her that the change was accurate. There was somethingsad in realizing that, after all, all that he wanted of her wassomething to eat. She felt as if hard thoughts were unjust. Maybe hewould get something yet. He had no vices. 

That very evening, however, on going into the theatre, one of thechorus girls passed her all newly arrayed in a pretty mottled tweedsuit, which took Carrie's eye. The young woman wore a fine bunch ofviolets and seemed in high spirits. She smiled at Carrie good-naturedly as she passed, showing pretty, even teeth, and Carrie smiledback. 

"She can afford to dress well, " thought Carrie, "and so could I, if Icould only keep my money. I haven't a decent tie of any kind to wear. "

She put out her foot and looked at her shoe reflectively. "I'll get apair of shoes Saturday, anyhow; I don't care what happens. "

One of the sweetest and most sympathetic little chorus girls in thecompany made friends with her because in Carrie she found nothing tofrighten her away. She was a gay little Manon, unwitting of society'sfierce conception of morality, but, nevertheless, good to her neighborand charitable. Little license was allowed the chorus in the matter ofconversation, but, nevertheless, some was indulged in. 

"It's warm to-night, isn't it?" said this girl, arrayed in pinkfleshings and an imitation golden helmet. She also carried a shiningshield. 

"Yes; it is, " said Carrie, pleased that some one should talk to her. 

"I'm almost roasting, " said the girl. 

Carrie looked into her pretty face, with its large blue eyes, and sawlittle beads of moisture. 

"There's more marching in this opera than ever I did before, " added thegirl. 

"Have you been in others?" asked Carrie, surprised at her experience. 

"Lots of them, " said the girl; "haven't you?"

"This is my first experience. "

"Oh, is it? I thought I saw you the time they ran 'The Queen's Mate'here. "

"No, " said Carrie, shaking her head; "not me. "

This conversation was interrupted by the blare of the orchestra and thesputtering of the calcium lights in the wings as the line was called toform for a new entrance. No further opportunity for conversationoccurred, but the next evening, when they were getting ready for thestage, this girl appeared anew at her side. 

"They say this show is going on the road next month. "

"Is it?" said Carrie. 

"Yes; do you think you'll go?"

"I don't know; I guess so, if they'll take me. "

"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 NewYork. There are too many shows going on here. "

"Can you always get in another show?"

"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. "

Carrie heard this with aroused intelligence. Evidently it wasn't sovery difficult to get on. Maybe she also could get a place if thisshow went away. "Do they all pay about the same?" she asked. 

"Yes. Sometimes you get a little more. This show doesn't pay verymuch. "

"I get twelve, " said Carrie. 

"Do you?" said the girl. "They pay me fifteen, and you do more workthan I do. I wouldn't stand it if I were you. They're just giving youless because they think you don't know. You ought to be makingfifteen. "

"Well, I'm not, " said Carrie. 

"Well, you'll get more at the next place if you want it, " went on thegirl, who admired Carrie very much. "You do fine, and the managerknows it. "

To say the truth, Carrie did unconsciously move about with an airpleasing and somewhat distinctive. It was due wholly to her naturalmanner and total lack of self-consciousness. 

"Do you suppose I could get more up at the Broadway?"

"Of course you can, " answered the girl. "You come with me when I go. I'll do the talking. "

Carrie heard this, flushing with thankfulness. She liked this littlegaslight soldier. She seemed so experienced and self-reliant in hertinsel helmet and military accoutrements. 

"My future must be assured if I can always get work this way, " thoughtCarrie. 

Still, in the morning, when her household duties would infringe uponher and Hurstwood sat there, a perfect load to contemplate, her fateseemed dismal and unrelieved. It did not take so very much to feedthem under Hurstwood's close-measured buying, and there would possiblybe enough for rent, but it left nothing else. Carrie bought the shoesand some other things, which complicated the rent problem veryseriously. Suddenly, a week from the fatal day, Carrie realized thatthey were going to run short. 

"I don't believe, " she exclaimed, looking into her purse at breakfast, "that I'll have enough to pay the rent. "

"How much have you?" inquired Hurstwood. 

"Well, I've got twenty-two dollars, but there's everything to be paidfor this week yet, and if I use all I get Saturday to pay this, therewon't be any left for next week. Do you think your hotel man will openhis hotel this month?"

"I think so, " returned Hurstwood. "He said he would. "

After a while, Hurstwood said:

"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. "

"Do you think he will?" she asked. 

"I think so. " On this account, Hurstwood, this very day, looked grocerOeslogge clearly in the eye as he ordered a pound of coffee, and said:

"Do you mind carrying my account until the end of every week?"

"No, no, Mr. Wheeler, " said Mr. Oeslogge. "Dat iss all right. "

Hurstwood, still tactful in distress, added nothing to this. It seemedan easy thing. He looked out of the door, and then gathered up hiscoffee when ready and came away. The game of a desperate man hadbegun. 

Rent was paid, and now came the grocer. Hurstwood managed by payingout 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 soonhad his ten back, with Oeslogge getting his pay on this Thursday orFriday for last Saturday's bill. 

This entanglement made Carrie anxious for a change of some sort. Hurstwood did not seem to realize that she had a right to anything. Heschemed to make what she earned cover all expenses, but seemed not totrouble over adding anything himself. 

"He talks about worrying, " thought Carrie. "If he worried enough hecouldn't sit there and wait for me. He'd get something to do. No mancould go seven months without finding something if he tried. "

The sight of him always around in his untidy clothes and gloomyappearance drove Carrie to seek relief in other places. Twice a weekthere were matinees, and then Hurstwood ate a cold snack, which heprepared himself. Two other days there were rehearsals beginning atten in the morning and lasting usually until one. Now, to this Carrieadded a few visits to one or two chorus girls, including the blue-eyedsoldier of the golden helmet. She did it because it was pleasant and arelief from dullness of the home over which her husband brooded. 

The blue-eyed soldier's name was Osborne--Lola Osborne. Her room wasin Nineteenth Street near Fourth Avenue, a block now given up wholly tooffice buildings. Here she had a comfortable back room, looking over acollection of back yards in which grew a number of shade trees pleasantto see. 

"Isn't your home in New York?" she asked of Lola one day. 

"Yes; but I can't get along with my people. They always want me to dowhat they want. Do you live here?"

"Yes, " said Carrie. 

"With your family?"

Carrie was ashamed to say that she was married. She had talked so muchabout getting more salary and confessed to so much anxiety about herfuture, that now, when the direct question of fact was waiting, shecould not tell this girl. 

"With some relatives, " she answered. 

Miss Osborne took it for granted that, like herself, Carrie's time washer own. She invariably asked her to stay, proposing little outingsand other things of that sort until Carrie began neglecting her dinnerhours. Hurstwood noticed it, but felt in no position to quarrel withher. Several times she came so late as scarcely to have an hour inwhich to patch up a meal and start for the theatre. 

"Do you rehearse in the afternoons?" Hurstwood once asked, concealingalmost completely the cynical protest and regret which prompted it. 

"No; I was looking around for another place, " said Carrie. 

As a matter of fact she was, but only in such a way as furnished theleast straw of an excuse. Miss Osborne and she had gone to the officeof the manager who was to produce the new opera at the Broadway andreturned straight to the former's room, where they had been since threeo'clock. 

Carrie felt this question to be an infringement on her liberty. She didnot take into account how much liberty she was securing. Only thelatest step, the newest freedom, must not be questioned. 

Hurstwood saw it all clearly enough. He was shrewd after his kind, andyet there was enough decency in the man to stop him from making anyeffectual protest. In his almost inexplicable apathy he was content todroop supinely while Carrie drifted out of his life, just as he waswilling supinely to see opportunity pass beyond his control. He couldnot help clinging and protesting in a mild, irritating, and ineffectualway, however--a way that simply widened the breach by slow degrees. 

A further enlargement of this chasm between them came when the manager, looking between the wings upon the brightly lighted stage where thechorus was going through some of its glittering evolutions, said to themaster of the ballet:

"Who is that fourth girl there on the right--the one coming round atthe end now?"

"Oh, " said the ballet-master, "that's Miss Madenda. "

"She's good looking. Why don't you let her head that line?"

"I will, " said the man. 

"Just do that. She'll look better there than the woman you've got. "

"All right. I will do that, " said the master. 

The next evening Carrie was called out, much as if for an error. 

"You lead your company to night, " said the master. 

"Yes, sir, " said Carrie. 

"Put snap into it, " he added. "We must have snap. "

"Yes, sir, " replied Carrie. 

Astonished at this change, she thought that the heretofore leader mustbe ill; but when she saw her in the line, with a distinct expression ofsomething unfavorable in her eye, she began to think that perhaps itwas merit. 

She had a chic way of tossing her head to one side, and holding herarms as if for action--not listlessly. In front of the line thisshowed up even more effectually. 

"That girl knows how to carry herself, " said the manager, anotherevening. He began to think that he should like to talk with her. If hehadn't made it a rule to have nothing to do with the members of thechorus, he would have approached her most unbendingly. 

"Put that girl at the head of the white column, " he suggested to theman in charge of the ballet. 

This white column consisted of some twenty girls, all in snow whiteflannel trimmed with silver and blue. Its leader was most stunninglyarrayed in the same colors, elaborated, however, with epaulets and abelt of silver, with a short sword dangling at one side. Carrie wasfitted for this costume, and a few days later appeared, proud of hernew laurels. She was especially gratified to find that her salary wasnow eighteen instead of twelve. 

Hurstwood heard nothing about this. 

"I'll not give him the rest of my money, " said Carrie. "I do enough. I am going to get me something to wear. "

As a matter of fact, during this second month she had been buying forherself as recklessly as she dared, regardless of the consequences. There were impending more complications rent day, and more extension ofthe credit system in the neighborhood. Now, however, she proposed to dobetter by herself. 

Her first move was to buy a shirt waist, and in studying these shefound how little her money would buy--how much, if she could only useall. She forgot that if she were alone she would have to pay for aroom and board, and imagined that every cent of her eighteen could bespent for clothes and things that she liked. 

At last she picked upon something, which not only used up all hersurplus above twelve, but invaded that sum. She knew she was going toofar, but her feminine love of finery prevailed. The next day Hurstwoodsaid:

"We owe the grocer five dollars and forty cents this week. "

"Do we?" said Carrie, frowning a little. 

She looked in her purse to leave it. 

"I've only got eight dollars and twenty cents altogether. "

"We owe the milkman sixty cents, " added Hurstwood. 

"Yes, and there's the coal man, " said Carrie. 

Hurstwood said nothing. He had seen the new things she was buying; theway she was neglecting household duties; the readiness with which shewas slipping out afternoons and staying. He felt that something wasgoing to happen. All at once she spoke:

"I don't know, " she said; "I can't do it all. I don't earn enough. "

This was a direct challenge. Hurstwood had to take it up. He tried tobe calm. 

"I don't want you to do it all, " he said. "I only want a little helpuntil I can get something to do. "

"Oh, yes, " answered Carrie. "That's always the way. It takes morethan I can earn to pay for things. I don't see what I'm going to do. 

"Well, I've tried to get something, " he exclaimed. What do you want meto do?"

"You couldn't have tried so very hard, " said Carrie. "I gotsomething. "

"Well, I did, " he said, angered almost to harsh words. "You needn'tthrow up your success to me. All I asked was a little help until Icould get something. I'm not down yet. I'll come up all right. "

He tried to speak steadily, but his voice trembled a little. 

Carrie's anger melted on the instant. She felt ashamed. 

"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 untilSaturday, though, I'll have some more. "

"You keep it, " said Hurstwood sadly. "I only want enough to pay thegrocer. "

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. 

In a little while their old thoughts returned to both. 

"She's making more than she says, " thought Hurstwood. "She says she'smaking 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. "

He only said this in his anger, but it prefigured a possible course ofaction and attitude well enough. 

"I don't care, " thought Carrie. "He ought to be told to get out and dosomething. It isn't right that I should support him. "

In these days Carrie was introduced to several youths, friends of MissOsborne, who were of the kind most aptly described as gay and festive. They called once to get Miss Osborne for an afternoon drive. Carriewas with her at the time. 

"Come and go along, " said Lola. 

"No, I can't, " said Carrie. 

"Oh, yes, come and go. What have you got to do?"

"I have to be home by five, " said Carrie. 

"What for?"

"Oh, dinner. "

"They'll take us to dinner, " said Lola. 

"Oh, no, " said Carrie. "I won't go. I can't. "

"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. " Carrie thought a while, and at last yielded. 

"Now, I must be back by half-past four, " she said. 

The information went in one ear of Lola and out the other. 

After Drouet and Hurstwood, there was the least touch of cynicism inher attitude toward young men--especially of the gay and frivoloussort. She felt a little older than they. Some of their prettycompliments seemed silly. Still, she was young in heart and body andyouth appealed to her. 

"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?"

"Well, I don't know, " said Carrie, smiling. 

They were off for a drive--she, looking about and noticing fineclothing, the young men voicing those silly pleasantries and weak quipswhich pass for humor in coy circles. Carrie saw the great park paradeof carriages, beginning at the Fifty-ninth Street entrance and windingpast the Museum of Art to the exit at One Hundred and Tenth Street andSeventh Avenue. Her eye was once more taken by the show of wealth--theelaborate costumes, elegant harnesses, spirited horses, and, above all, the beauty. Once more the plague of poverty galled her, but now sheforgot in a measure her own troubles so far as to forget Hurstwood. Hewaited until four, five, and even six. It was getting dark when he gotup out of his chair. 

"I guess she isn't coming home, " he said, grimly. 

"That's the way, " he thought. "She's getting a start now. I'm out ofit. "

Carrie had really discovered her neglect, but only at a quarter afterfive, and the open carriage was now far up Seventh Avenue, near theHarlem River. 

"What time is it?" she inquired. "I must be getting back. "

"A quarter after five, " said her companion, consulting an elegant, open-faced watch. 

"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. "

"Of course it is, " said the youth, who saw visions of a fine dinnernow, and such invigorating talk as would result in a reunion after theshow. He was greatly taken with Carrie. "We'll drive down toDelmonico's now and have something there, won't we, Orrin?"

"To be sure, " replied Orrin, gaily. 

Carrie thought of Hurstwood. Never before had she neglected dinnerwithout an excuse. 

They drove back, and at 6. 15 sat down to dine. It was the Sherryincident over again, the remembrance of which came painfully back toCarrie. She remembered Mrs. Vance, who had never called again afterHurstwood's reception, and Ames. 

At this figure her mind halted. It was a strong, clean vision. Heliked better books than she read, better people than she associatedwith. His ideals burned in her heart. 

"It's fine to be a good actress, " came distinctly back. 

What sort of an actress was she?

"What are you thinking about, Miss Madenda?" inquired her merrycompanion. "Come, now, let's see if I can guess. "

"Oh, no, " said Carrie. "Don't try. "

She shook it off and ate. She forgot, in part, and was merry. When itcame to the after-theatre proposition, however, she shook her head. 

"No, " she said, "I can't. I have a previous engagement. "

"Oh, now, Miss Madenda, " pleaded the youth. 

"No, " said Carrie, "I can't. You've been so kind, but you'll have toexcuse me. "

The youth looked exceedingly crestfallen. 

"Cheer up, old man, " whispered his companion. "We'll go around, anyhow. She may change her mind. "

Chapter XLA PUBLIC DISSENSION--A FINAL APPEAL

 There was no after-theatre lark, however, so far as Carrie wasconcerned. She made her way homeward, thinking about her absence. Hurstwood was asleep, but roused up to look as she passed through toher own bed. 

"Is that you?" he said. 

"Yes, " she answered. 

The next morning at breakfast she felt like apologizing. 

"I couldn't get home last evening, " she said. 

"Ah, Carrie, " he answered, "what's the use saying that? I don't care. You needn't tell me that, though. "

"I couldn't, " said Carrie, her color rising. Then, seeing that helooked as if he said "I know, " she exclaimed: "Oh, all right. I don'tcare. "

>From now on, her indifference to the flat was even greater. Thereseemed no common ground on which they could talk to one another. Shelet herself be asked for expenses. It became so with him that he hatedto do it. He preferred standing off the butcher and baker. He ran upa grocery bill of sixteen dollars with Oeslogge, laying in a supply ofstaple articles, so that they would not have to buy any of those thingsfor some time to come. Then he changed his grocery. It was the samewith the butcher and several others. Carrie never heard anything ofthis directly from him. He asked for such as he could expect, driftingfarther and farther into a situation which could have but one ending. 

In this fashion, September went by. 

"Isn't Mr. Drake going to open his hotel?" Carrie asked several times. 

"Yes. He won't do it before October, though, now. "

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 shewas with announced its departure within four weeks. "Last two weeks ofthe Great Comic Opera success ----The--------, " etc. , was upon allbillboards and in the newspapers, before she acted. 

"I'm not going out on the road, " said Miss Osborne. 

Carrie went with her to apply to another manager. 

"Ever had any experience?" was one of his questions. 

"I'm with the company at the Casino now. "

"Oh, you are?" he said. 

The end of this was another engagement at twenty per week. 

Carrie was delighted. She began to feel that she had a place in theworld. People recognized ability. 

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 aload to bear. It became a place to keep away from. Still she sleptthere, and did a fair amount of work, keeping it in order. It was asitting 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. 

Carrie was doing better, that he knew. Her clothes were improved now, even fine. He saw her coming and going, sometimes picturing to himselfher rise. Little eating had thinned him somewhat. He had no appetite. His clothes, too, were a poor man's clothes. Talk about gettingsomething had become even too threadbare and ridiculous for him. So hefolded his hands and waited--for what, he could not anticipate. 

At last, however, troubles became too thick. The hounding ofcreditors, the indifference of Carrie, the silence of the flat, andpresence of winter, all joined to produce a climax. It was effected bythe arrival of Oeslogge, personally, when Carrie was there. 

"I call about my bill, " said Mr. Oeslogge. 

Carrie was only faintly surprised. 

"How much is it?" she asked. 

"Sixteen dollars, " he replied. 

"Oh, that much?" said Carrie. "Is this right?" she asked, turning toHurstwood. 

"Yes, " he said. 

"Well, I never heard anything about it. "

She looked as if she thought he had been contracting some needlessexpense. 

"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. 

"Well, when can you?" said the grocer. 

"Not before Saturday, anyhow, " said Hurstwood. 

"Huh!" returned the grocer. "This is fine. I must have that. I needthe money. "

Carrie was standing farther back in the room, hearing it all. She wasgreatly distressed. It was so bad and commonplace. Hurstwood wasannoyed also. 

"Well, " he said, "there's no use talking about it now. If you'll comein Saturday, I'll pay you something on it. "

The grocery man went away. 

"How are we going to pay it?" asked Carrie, astonished by the bill. "Ican't do it. "

"Well, you don't have to, " he said. "He can't get what he can't get. He'll have to wait. "

"I don't see how we ran up such a bill as that, " said Carrie. 

"Well, we ate it, " said Hurstwood. 

"It's funny, " she replied, still doubting. 

"What's the use of your standing there and talking like that, now?" heasked. "Do you think I've had it alone? You talk as if I'd takensomething. "

"Well, it's too much, anyhow, " said Carrie. "I oughtn't to be made topay for it. I've got more than I can pay for now. "

"All right, " replied Hurstwood, sitting down in silence. He was sickof the grind of this thing. 

Carrie went out and there he sat, determining to do something. 

There had been appearing in the papers about this time rumors andnotices of an approaching strike on the trolley lines in Brooklyn. There was general dissatisfaction as to the hours of labor required andthe wages paid. As usual--and for some inexplicable reason--the menchose the winter for the forcing of the hand of their employers and thesettlement of their difficulties. 

Hurstwood had been reading of this thing, and wondering concerning thehuge tie-up which would follow. A day or two before this trouble withCarrie, it came. On a cold afternoon, when everything was gray and itthreatened to snow, the papers announced that the men had been calledout on all the lines. Being so utterly idle, and his mind filled withthe numerous predictions which had been made concerning the scarcity oflabor this winter and the panicky state of the financial market, Hurstwood read this with interest. He noted the claims of the strikingmotormen and conductors, who said that they had been wont to receivetwo 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, andeven fourteen. These "trippers" were men put on during the busy andrush hours, to take a car out for one trip. The compensation paid forsuch a trip was only twenty-five cents. When the rush or busy hourswere over, they were laid off. Worst of all, no man might know when hewas going to get a car. He must come to the barns in the morning andwait 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 overthree hours' work for fifty cents. The work of waiting was notcounted. 

The men complained that this system was extending, and that the timewas not far off when but a few out of 7, 000 employees would haveregular two-dollar-a-day work at all. They demanded that the system beabolished, and that ten hours be considered a day's work, barringunavoidable delays, with $2. 25 pay. They demanded immediate acceptanceof these terms, which the various trolley companies refused. 

Hurstwood at first sympathized with the demands of these men-indeed, itis a question whether he did not always sympathize with them to theend, belie him as his actions might. Reading nearly all the news, hewas attracted first by the scare-heads with which the trouble was notedin the "World. " He read it fully--the names of the seven companiesinvolved, the number of men. 

"They're foolish to strike in this sort of weather, " he thought tohimself. "Let 'em win if they can, though. "

The next day there was even a larger notice of it. "BrooklynitesWalk, " said the "World. " "Knights of Labor Tie up the Trolley LinesAcross the Bridge. " "About Seven Thousand Men Out. "

Hurstwood read this, formulating to himself his own idea of what wouldbe the outcome. He was a great believer in the strength ofcorporations. 

"They can't win, " he said, concerning the men. "They haven't anymoney. The police will protect the companies. They've got to. Thepublic has to have its cars. "

He didn't sympathize with the corporations, but strength was with them. So was property and public utility. 

"Those fellows can't win, " he thought. 

Among other things, he noticed a circular issued by one of thecompanies, which read:

 ATLANTIC AVENUE RAILROAD

 SPECIAL NOTICE

The motormen and conductors and other employees of this company havingabruptly left its service, an opportunity is now given to all loyal menwho have struck against their will to be reinstated, providing theywill make their applications by twelve o'clock noon on Wednesday, January 16th. Such men will be given employment (with guaranteedprotection) in the order in which such applications are received, andruns and positions assigned them accordingly. Otherwise, they will beconsidered discharged, and every vacancy will be filled by a new man assoon as his services can be secured. (Signed)Benjamin Norton, President

 He also noted among the want ads. One which read:

 WANTED. --50 skilled motormen, accustomed to Westinghouse system, torun U. S. Mail cars only, in the City of Brooklyn; protectionguaranteed. 

 He noted particularly in each the "protection guaranteed. " Itsignified to him the unassailable power of the companies. 

"They've got the militia on their side, " he thought. "There isn'tanything those men can do. "

While this was still in his mind, the incident with Oeslogge and Carrieoccurred. There had been a good deal to irritate him, but this seemedmuch the worst. Never before had she accused him of stealing--or verynear that. She doubted the naturalness of so large a bill. And he hadworked so hard to make expenses seem light. He had been "doing"butcher and baker in order not to call on her. He had eaten verylittle--almost nothing. 

"Damn it all!" he said. "I can get something. I'm not down yet. "

He thought that he really must do something now. It was too cheap tosit around after such an insinuation as this. Why, after a little, hewould be standing anything. 

He got up and looked out the window into the chilly street. It camegradually into his mind, as he stood there, to go to Brooklyn. 

"Why not?" his mind said. "Any one can get work over there. You'll gettwo a day. "

"How about accidents?" said a voice. "You might get hurt. "

"Oh, there won't be much of that, " he answered. "They've called outthe police. Any one who wants to run a car will be protected allright. "

"You don't know how to run a car, " rejoined the voice. 

"I won't apply as a motorman, " he answered. "I can ring up fares allright. "

"They'll want motormen, mostly. "

"They'll take anybody; that I know. "

For several hours he argued pro and con with this mental counselor, feeling no need to act at once in a matter so sure of profit. 

In the morning he put on his best clothes, which were poor enough, andbegan stirring about, putting some bread and meat into a page of anewspaper. Carrie watched him, interested in this new move. 

"Where are you going?" she asked. 

"Over to Brooklyn, " he answered. Then, seeing her still inquisitive, he added: "I think I can get on over there. "

"On the trolley lines?" said Carrie, astonished. 

"Yes, " he rejoined. 

"Aren't you afraid?" she asked. 

"What of?" he answered. "The police are protecting them. "

"The paper said four men were hurt yesterday. "

"Yes, " he returned; "but you can't go by what the papers say. They'llrun the cars all right. "

He looked rather determined now, in a desolate sort of way, and Carriefelt very sorry. Something of the old Hurstwood was here-the leastshadow of what was once shrewd and pleasant strength. Outside, it wascloudy and blowing a few flakes of snow. 

"What a day to go over there, " thought Carrie. 

Now he left before she did, which was a remarkable thing, and trampedeastward to Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue, where he took the car. He had read that scores of applicants were applying at the office ofthe Brooklyn City Railroad building and were being received. He madehis way there by horse-car and ferry--a dark, silent man--to theoffices in question. It was a long way, for no cars were running, andthe day was cold; but he trudged along grimly. Once in Brooklyn, hecould clearly see and feel that a strike was on. People showed it intheir manner. Along the routes of certain tracks not a car was running. About certain corners and nearby saloons small groups of men werelounging. Several spring wagons passed him, equipped with plain woodenchairs, and labeled "Flatbush" or "Prospect Park. Fare, Ten Cents. " Henoticed cold and even gloomy faces. Labor was having its little war. 

When he came near the office in question, he saw a few men standingabout, and some policemen. On the far corners were other men--whom hetook to be strikers--watching. All the houses were small and wooden, the streets poorly paved. After New York, Brooklyn looked actuallypoor and hard-up. 

He made his way into the heart of the small group, eyed by policemenand the men already there. One of the officers addressed him. 

"What are you looking for?"

"I want to see if I can get a place. "

"The offices are up those steps, " said the bluecoat. His face was avery neutral thing to contemplate. In his heart of hearts, hesympathized with the strikers and hated this "scab. " In his heart ofhearts, also, he felt the dignity and use of the police force, whichcommanded order. Of its true social significance, he never oncedreamed. His was not the mind for that. The two feelings blended inhim--neutralized one another and him. He would have fought for thisman as determinedly as for himself, and yet only so far as commanded. Strip him of his uniform, and he would have soon picked his side. 

Hurstwood ascended a dusty flight of steps and entered a small, dust-colored office, in which were a railing, a long desk, and severalclerks. 

"Well, sir?" said a middle-aged man, looking up at him from the longdesk. 

"Do you want to hire any men?" inquired Hurstwood. 

"What are you--a motorman?"

"No; I'm not anything, " said Hurstwood. 

He was not at all abashed by his position. He knew these people neededmen. If one didn't take him, another would. This man could take himor leave him, just as he chose. 

"Well, we prefer experienced men, of course, " said the man. He paused, while Hurstwood smiled indifferently. Then he added: "Still, I guessyou can learn. What is your name?"

"Wheeler, " said Hurstwood. 

The man wrote an order on a small card. "Take that to our barns, " hesaid, "and give it to the foreman. He'll show you what to do. "

Hurstwood went down and out. He walked straight away in the directionindicated, while the policemen looked after. 

"There's another wants to try it, " said Officer Kiely to Officer Macey. 

"I have my mind he'll get his fill, " returned the latter, quietly. They had been in strikes before. 

Chapter XLITHE STRIKE

 The barn at which Hurstwood applied was exceedingly short-handed, andwas being operated practically by three men as directors. There were alot of green hands around--queer, hungry-looking men, who looked as ifwant had driven them to desperate means. They tried to be lively andwilling, but there was an air of hang-dog diffidence about the place. 

Hurstwood went back through the barns and out into a large, enclosedlot, where were a series of tracks and loops. A half dozen cars werethere, manned by instructors, each with a pupil at the lever. Morepupils were waiting at one of the rear doors of the barn. 

In silence Hurstwood viewed this scene, and waited. His companionstook his eye for a while, though they did not interest him much morethan the cars. They were an uncomfortable-looking gang, however. Oneor two were very thin and lean. Several were quite stout. Severalothers were rawboned and sallow, as if they had been beaten upon by allsorts of rough weather. 

"Did you see by the paper they are going to call out the militia?"Hurstwood heard one of them remark. 

"Oh, they'll do that, " returned the other. "They always do. "

"Think we're liable to have much trouble?" said another, whom Hurstwooddid not see. 

"Not very. "

"That Scotchman that went out on the last car, " put in a voice, "toldme that they hit him in the ear with a cinder. "

A small, nervous laugh accompanied this. 

"One of those fellows on the Fifth Avenue line must have had a hell ofa time, according to the papers, " drawled another. "They broke his carwindows and pulled him off into the street 'fore the police could stop'em. "

"Yes; but there are more police around to-day, " was added by another. 

Hurstwood hearkened without much mental comment. These talkers seemedscared to him. Their gabbling was feverish--things said to quiet theirown minds. He looked out into the yard and waited. 

Two of the men got around quite near him, but behind his back. Theywere rather social, and he listened to what they said. 

"Are you a railroad man?" said one. 

"Me? No. I've always worked in a paper factory. "

"I had a job in Newark until last October, " returned the other, withreciprocal feeling. 

There were some words which passed too low to hear. Then theconversation became strong again. 

"I don't blame these fellers for striking, " said one. "They've got theright of it, all right, but I had to get something to do. "

"Same here, " said the other. "If I had any job in Newark I wouldn't beover here takin' chances like these. "

"It's hell these days, ain't it?" said the man. "A poor man ain'tnowhere. You could starve, by God, right in the streets, and thereain't most no one would help you. "

"Right you are, " said the other. "The job I had I lost 'cause theyshut down. They run all summer and lay up a big stock, and then shutdown. "

Hurstwood paid some little attention to this. Somehow, he felt alittle superior to these two--a little better off. To him these wereignorant and commonplace, poor sheep in a driver's hand. 

"Poor devils, " he thought, speaking out of the thoughts and feelings ofa bygone period of success. "Next, " said one of the instructors. 

"You're next, " said a neighbor, touching him. 

He went out and climbed on the platform. The instructor took it forgranted that no preliminaries were needed. 

"You see this handle, " he said, reaching up to an electric cutoff, 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 tosend it forward, you put it over here. If you want to cut off thepower, you keep it in the middle. "

Hurstwood smiled at the simple information. 

"Now, this handle here regulates your speed. To here, " he said, pointing with his finger, "gives you about four miles an hour. This iseight. When it's full on, you make about fourteen miles an hour. "

Hurstwood watched him calmly. He had seen motormen work before. Heknew just about how they did it, and was sure he could do as well, witha very little practice. 

The instructor explained a few more details, and then said:

"Now, we'll back her up. "

Hurstwood stood placidly by, while the car rolled back into the yard. 

"One thing you want to be careful about, and that is to start easy. Give one degree time to act before you start another. The one fault ofmost 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. "

"I see, " said Hurstwood. 

He waited and waited, while the man talked on. 

"Now you take it, " he said, finally. 

The ex-manager laid hand to the lever and pushed it gently, as hethought. It worked much easier than he imagined, however, with theresult that the car jerked quickly forward, throwing him back againstthe door. He straightened up sheepishly, while the instructor stoppedthe car with the brake. 

"You want to be careful about that, " was all he said. 

Hurstwood found, however, that handling a brake and regulating speedwere not so instantly mastered as he had imagined. Once or twice hewould have ploughed through the rear fence if it had not been for thehand and word of his companion. The latter was rather patient withhim, but he never smiled. 

"You've got to get the knack of working both arms at once, " he said. "It takes a little practice. "

One o'clock came while he was still on the car practicing, and he beganto feel hungry. The day set in snowing, and he was cold. He grew wearyof running to and fro on the short track. 

They ran the car to the end and both got off. Hurstwood went into thebarn and sought a car step, pulling out his paper wrapped lunch fromhis pocket. There was no water and the bread was dry, but he enjoyedit. There was no ceremony about dining. He swallowed and looked about, contemplating the dull, homely labor of the thing. It wasdisagreeable--miserably disagreeable--in all its phases. Not becauseit was bitter, but because it was hard. It would be hard to any one, he thought. 

After eating, he stood about as before, waiting until his turn came. 

The intention was to give him an afternoon of practice, but the greaterpart of the time was spent in waiting about. 

At last evening came, and with it hunger and a debate with himself asto how he should spend the night. It was half-past five. He must sooneat. If he tried to go home, it would take him two hours and a half ofcold walking and riding. Besides he had orders to report at seven thenext morning, and going home would necessitate his rising at an unholyand disagreeable hour. He had only something like a dollar and fifteencents of Carrie's money, with which he had intended to pay the twoweeks' coal bill before the present idea struck him. 

"They must have some place around here, " he thought. "Where does thatfellow from Newark stay?"

Finally he decided to ask. There was a young fellow standing near oneof the doors in the cold, waiting a last turn. He was a mere boy inyears--twenty-one about--but with a body lank and long, because ofprivation. A little good living would have made this youth plump andswaggering. 

"How do they arrange this, if a man hasn't any money?" inquiredHurstwood, discreetly. 

The fellow turned a keen, watchful face on the inquirer. 

"You mean eat?" he replied. 

"Yes, and sleep. I can't go back to New York to-night. "

"The foreman'll fix that if you ask him, I guess. He did me. "

"That so?"

"Yes. I just told him I didn't have anything. Gee, I couldn't gohome. I live way over in Hoboken. "

Hurstwood only cleared his throat by way of acknowledgment. 

"They've got a place upstairs here, I understand. I don't know whatsort of a thing it is. Purty tough, I guess. He gave me a meal ticketthis noon. I know that wasn't much. "

Hurstwood smiled grimly, and the boy laughed. 

"It ain't no fun, is it?" he inquired, wishing vainly for a cheeryreply. 

"Not much, " answered Hurstwood. 

"I'd tackle him now, " volunteered the youth. "He may go 'way. "

Hurstwood did so. 

"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"

"There're some cots upstairs, " interrupted the man, "if you want one ofthem. "

"That'll do, " he assented. 

He meant to ask for a meal ticket, but the seemingly proper momentnever came, and he decided to pay himself that night. 

"I'll ask him in the morning. "

He ate in a cheap restaurant in the vicinity, and, being cold andlonely, went straight off to seek the loft in question. The companywas not attempting to run cars after nightfall. It was so advised bythe police. 

The room seemed to have been a lounging place for night workers. Therewere some nine cots in the place, two or three wooden chairs, a soapbox, and a small, round-bellied stove, in which a fire was blazing. Early as he was, another man was there before him. The latter wassitting beside the stove warming his hands. 

Hurstwood approached and held out his own toward the fire. He was sickof 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. 

"Cold, isn't it?" said the early guest. 

"Rather. "

A long silence. 

"Not much of a place to sleep in, is it?" said the man. 

"Better than nothing, " replied Hurstwood. 

Another silence. 

"I believe I'll turn in, " said the man. 

Rising, he went to one of the cots and stretched himself, removing onlyhis shoes, and pulling the one blanket and dirty old comforter over himin a sort of bundle. The sight disgusted Hurstwood, but he did notdwell on it, choosing to gaze into the stove and think of somethingelse. Presently he decided to retire, and picked a cot, also removinghis shoes. 

While he was doing so, the youth who had advised him to come hereentered, and, seeing Hurstwood, tried to be genial. 

"Better'n nothin', " he observed, looking around. 

Hurstwood did not take this to himself. He thought it to be anexpression of individual satisfaction, and so did not answer. The youthimagined he was out of sorts, and set to whistling softly. Seeinganother man asleep, he quit that and lapsed into silence. 

Hurstwood made the best of a bad lot by keeping on his clothes andpushing away the dirty covering from his head, but at last he dozed insheer weariness. The covering became more and more comfortable, itscharacter was forgotten, and he pulled it about his neck and slept. Inthe morning he was aroused out of a pleasant dream by several menstirring about in the cold, cheerless room. He had been back inChicago in fancy, in his own comfortable home. Jessica had beenarranging 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 contrastof this room. He raised his head, and the cold, bitter reality jarredhim into wakefulness. 

"Guess I'd better get up, " he said. 

There was no water on this floor. He put on his shoes in the cold andstood up, shaking himself in his stiffness. His clothes feltdisagreeable, his hair bad. 

"Hell!" he muttered, as he put on his hat. 

Downstairs things were stirring again. 

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 fromyesterday. He contented himself with wetting his eyes with the ice-cold water. Then he sought the foreman, who was already on the ground. 

"Had your breakfast yet?" inquired that worthy. 

"No, " said Hurstwood. 

"Better get it, then; your car won't be ready for a little while. "

Hurstwood hesitated. 

"Could you let me have a meal ticket?" he asked with an effort. 

"Here you are, " said the man, handing him one. 

He breakfasted as poorly as the night before on some fried steak andbad coffee. Then he went back. 

"Here, " said the foreman, motioning him, when he came in. "You takethis car out in a few minutes. "

Hurstwood climbed up on the platform in the gloomy barn and waited fora signal. He was nervous, and yet the thing was a relief. Anythingwas better than the barn. 

On this the fourth day of the strike, the situation had taken a turnfor the worse. The strikers, following the counsel of their leadersand the newspapers, had struggled peaceably enough. There had been nogreat violence done. Cars had been stopped, it is true, and the menargued with. Some crews had been won over and led away, some windowsbroken, some jeering and yelling done; but in no more than five or sixinstances had men been seriously injured. These by crowds whose actsthe leaders disclaimed. 

Idleness, however, and the sight of the company, backed by the police, triumphing, angered the men. They saw that each day more cars weregoing on, each day more declarations were being made by the companyofficials that the effective opposition of the strikers was broken. This put desperate thoughts in the minds of the men. Peaceful methodsmeant, they saw, that the companies would soon run all their cars andthose who had complained would be forgotten. There was nothing sohelpful to the companies as peaceful methods. All at once they blazedforth, and for a week there was storm and stress. Cars were assailed, men attacked, policemen struggled with, tracks torn up, and shotsfired, until at last street fights and mob movements became frequent, and the city was invested with militia. 

Hurstwood knew nothing of the change of temper. 

"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 signalto start. Hurstwood turned the lever and ran the car out through thedoor into the street in front of the barn. Here two brawny policemengot up beside him on the platform--one on either hand. 

At the sound of a gong near the barn door, two bells were given by theconductor and Hurstwood opened his lever. 

The two policemen looked about them calmly. 

"'Tis cold, all right, this morning, " said the one on the left, whopossessed a rich brogue. 

"I had enough of it yesterday, " said the other. "I wouldn't want asteady job of this. "

"Nor I. "

Neither paid the slightest attention to Hurstwood, who stood facing thecold wind, which was chilling him completely, and thinking of hisorders. 

"Keep a steady gait, " the foreman had said. "Don't stop for any onewho doesn't look like a real passenger. Whatever you do, don't stopfor a crowd. "

The two officers kept silent for a few moments. 

"The last man must have gone through all right, " said the officer onthe left. "I don't see his car anywhere. "

"Who's on there?" asked the second officer, referring, of course, toits complement of policemen. 

"Schaeffer and Ryan. "

There was another silence, in which the car ran smoothly along. Therewere not so many houses along this part of the way. Hurstwood did notsee many people either. The situation was not wholly disagreeable tohim. If he were not so cold, he thought he would do well enough. 

He was brought out of this feeling by the sudden appearance of a curveahead, which he had not expected. He shut off the current and did anenergetic turn at the brake, but not in time to avoid an unnaturallyquick turn. It shook him up and made him feel like making someapologetic remarks, but he refrained. 

"You want to look out for them things, " said the officer on the left, condescendingly. 

"That's right, " agreed Hurstwood, shamefacedly. 

"There's lots of them on this line, " said the officer on the right. Around the corner a more populated way appeared. One or twopedestrians were in view ahead. A boy coming out of a gate with a tinmilk bucket gave Hurstwood his first objectionable greeting. 

"Scab!" he yelled. "Scab!"

Hurstwood heard it, but tried to make no comment, even to himself. Heknew he would get that, and much more of the same sort, probably. 

At a corner farther up a man stood by the track and signaled the car tostop. 

"Never mind him, " said one of the officers. "He's up to some game. "

Hurstwood obeyed. At the corner he saw the wisdom of it. No soonerdid the man perceive the intention to ignore him, than he shook hisfist. 

"Ah, you bloody coward!" he yelled. 

Some half dozen men, standing on the corner, flung taunts and jeersafter the speeding car. 

Hurstwood winced the least bit. The real thing was slightly worse thanthe thoughts of it had been. 

Now came in sight, three or four blocks farther on, a heap of somethingon the track. 

"They've been at work, here, all right, " said one of the policemen. 

"We'll have an argument, maybe, " said the other. 

Hurstwood ran the car close and stopped. He had not done so wholly, however, before a crowd gathered about. It was composed of ex-motormenand conductors in part, with a sprinkling of friends and sympathizers. 

"Come off the car, pardner, " said one of the men in a voice meant to beconciliatory. "You don't want to take the bread out of another man'smouth, do you?"

Hurstwood held to his brake and lever, pale and very uncertain what todo. 

"Stand back, " yelled one of the officers, leaning over the platformrailing. "Clear out of this, now. Give the man a chance to do hiswork. "

"Listen, pardner, " said the leader, ignoring the policeman andaddressing Hurstwood. "We're all working men, like yourself. If youwere a regular motorman, and had been treated as we've been, youwouldn't want any one to come in and take your place, would you? Youwouldn't want any one to do you out of your chance to get your rights, would you?"

"Shut her off! shut her off!" urged the other of the policemen, roughly. "Get out of this, now, " and he jumped the railing and landedbefore the crowd and began shoving. Instantly the other officer wasdown beside him. 

"Stand back, now, " they yelled. "Get out of this. What the hell doyou mean? Out, now. "

It was like a small swarm of bees. 

"Don't shove me, " said one of the strikers, determinedly. "I'm notdoing anything. "

"Get out of this!" cried the officer, swinging his club. "I'll give yea bat on the sconce. Back, now. "

"What the hell!" cried another of the strikers, pushing the other way, adding at the same time some lusty oaths. 

Crack came an officer's club on his forehead. He blinked his eyesblindly a few times, wobbled on his legs, threw up his hands, andstaggered back. In return, a swift fist landed on the officer's neck. 

Infuriated by this, the latter plunged left and right, laying aboutmadly with his club. He was ably assisted by his brother of the blue, who poured ponderous oaths upon the troubled waters. No severe damagewas done, owing to the agility of the strikers in keeping out of reach. They stood about the sidewalk now and jeered. 

"Where is the conductor?" yelled one of the officers, getting his eyeon that individual, who had come nervously forward to stand byHurstwood. The latter had stood gazing upon the scene with moreastonishment than fear. 

"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 tostay here all day? Get down. "

Hurstwood breathed heavily in excitement and jumped down with thenervous conductor as if he had been called. 

"Hurry up, now, " said the other policeman. 

Cold as it was, these officers were hot and mad. Hurstwood worked withthe conductor, lifting stone after stone and warming himself by thework. 

"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. "

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. 

"Work, you blackguards, " yelled a voice. "Do the dirty work. You'rethe suckers that keep the poor people down!"

"May God starve ye yet, " yelled an old Irish woman, who now threw opena nearby window and stuck out her head. 

"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 hardhearted, murtherin' divil? Ah, ye----"

But the officer turned a deaf ear. 

"Go to the devil, you old hag, " he half muttered as he stared roundupon the scattered company. 

Now the stones were off, and Hurstwood took his place again amid acontinued chorus of epithets. Both officers got up beside him and theconductor rang the bell, when, bang! bang! through window and door camerocks and stones. One narrowly grazed Hurstwood's head. Anothershattered the window behind. 

"Throw open your lever, " yelled one of the officers, grabbing at thehandle himself. 

Hurstwood complied and the car shot away, followed by a rattle ofstones and a rain of curses. 

"That ---------hit me in the neck, " said one of the officers. "I gavehim a good crack for it, though. "

"I think I must have left spots on some of them, " said the other. 

"I know that big guy that called us a ----------" said the first. "I'll get him yet for that. "

"I thought we were in for it sure, once there, " said the second. 

Hurstwood, warmed and excited, gazed steadily ahead. It was anastonishing experience for him. He had read of these things, but thereality seemed something altogether new. He was no coward in spirit. The fact that he had suffered this much now rather operated to arouse astolid determination to stick it out. He did not recur in thought toNew York or the flat. This one trip seemed a consuming thing. 

They now ran into the business heart of Brooklyn uninterrupted. Peoplegazed at the broken windows of the car and at Hurstwood in his plainclothes. Voices called "scab" now and then, as well as other epithets, but no crowd attacked the car. At the downtown end of the line, one ofthe officers went to call up his station and report the trouble. 

"There's a gang out there, " he said, "laying for us yet. Better sendsome one over there and clean them out. "

The car ran back more quietly--hooted, watched, flung at, but notattacked. Hurstwood breathed freely when he saw the barns. 

"Well, " he observed to himself, "I came out of that all right. "

The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf a while, but later hewas again called. This time a new team of officers was aboard. Slightly more confident, he sped the car along the commonplace streetsand felt somewhat less fearful. On one side, however, he sufferedintensely. The day was raw, with a sprinkling of snow and a gustywind, made all the more intolerable by the speed of the car. Hisclothing was not intended for this sort of work. He shivered, stampedhis feet, and beat his arms as he had seen other motormen do in thepast, but said nothing. The novelty and danger of the situationmodified in a way his disgust and distress at being compelled to behere, but not enough to prevent him from feeling grim and sour. Thiswas a dog's life, he thought. It was a tough thing to have to come to. 

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 dosomething--this, even--for a while. It would get better. He wouldsave a little. 

A boy threw a clod of mud while he was thus reflecting and hit him uponthe arm. It hurt sharply and angered him more than he had been anytime since morning. 

"The little cur!" he muttered. 

"Hurt you?" asked one of the policemen. 

"No, " he answered. 

At one of the corners, where the car slowed up because of a turn, anex-motorman, standing on the sidewalk, called to him:

"Won't you come out, pardner, and be a man? Remember we're fighting fordecent day's wages, that's all. We've got families to support. " Theman seemed most peaceably inclined. 

Hurstwood pretended not to see him. He kept his eyes straight onbefore and opened the lever wide. The voice had something appealing init. 

All morning this went on and long into the afternoon. He made threesuch trips. The dinner he had was no stay for such work and the coldwas 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 barn men, out of pity, loaned him a heavy cap and a pair of sheepskin gloves, andfor once he was extremely thankful. 

On the second trip of the afternoon he ran into a crowd about half wayalong the line, that had blocked the car's progress with an oldtelegraph pole. 

"Get that thing off the track, " shouted the two policemen. 

"Yah, yah, yah!" yelled the crowd. "Get it off yourself. "

The two policemen got down and Hurstwood started to follow. 

"You stay there, " one called. "Some one will run away with your car. "

Amid the babble of voices, Hurstwood heard one close beside him. 

"Come down, pardner, and be a man. Don't fight the poor. Leave thatto the corporations. "

He saw the same fellow who had called to him from the corner. Now, asbefore, he pretended not to hear him. 

"Come down, " the man repeated gently. "You don't want to fight poormen. Don't fight at all. " It was a most philosophic and Jesuiticalmotorman. 

A third policeman joined the other two from somewhere and some one ranto telephone for more officers. Hurstwood gazed about, determined butfearful. 

A man grabbed him by the coat. 

"Come off of that, " he exclaimed, jerking at him and trying to pull himover the railing. 

"Let go, " said Hurstwood, savagely. 

"I'll show you--you scab!" cried a young Irishman, jumping up on thecar and aiming a blow at Hurstwood. The latter ducked and caught it onthe shoulder instead of the jaw. 

"Away from here, " shouted an officer, hastening to the rescue, andadding, of course, the usual oaths. 

Hurstwood recovered himself, pale and trembling. It was becomingserious with him now. People were looking up and jeering at him. Onegirl was making faces. 

He began to waver in his resolution, when a patrol wagon rolled up andmore officers dismounted. Now the track was quickly cleared and therelease effected. 

"Let her go now, quick, " said the officer, and again he was off. 

The end came with a real mob, which met the car on its return trip amile or two from the barns. It was an exceedingly poor lookingneighborhood. He wanted to run fast through it, but again the trackwas blocked. He saw men carrying something out to it when he was yet ahalf-dozen blocks away. 

"There they are again!" exclaimed one policeman. 

"I'll give them something this time, " said the second officer, whosepatience was becoming worn. Hurstwood suffered a qualm of body as thecar rolled up. As before, the crowd began hooting, but now, ratherthan come near, they threw things. One or two windows were smashed andHurstwood dodged a stone. 

Both policemen ran out toward the crowd, but the latter replied byrunning toward the car. A woman--a mere girl in appearance-was amongthese, bearing a rough stick. She was exceedingly wrathful and struckat Hurstwood, who dodged. Thereupon, her companions, duly encouraged, jumped on the car and pulled Hurstwood over. He had hardly time tospeak or shout before he fell. 

"Let go of me, " he said, falling on his side. 

"Ah, you sucker, " he heard some one say. Kicks and blows rained onhim. He seemed to be suffocating. Then two men seemed to be dragginghim off and he wrestled for freedom. 

"Let up, " said a voice, "you're all right. Stand up. "

He was let loose and recovered himself. Now he recognized twoofficers. He felt as if he would faint from exhaustion. Something waswet on his chin. He put up his hand and felt, then looked. It wasred. 

"They cut me, " he said, foolishly, fishing for his handkerchief. 

"Now, now, " said one of the officers. "It's only a scratch. "

His senses became cleared now and he looked around. He was standing ina little store, where they left him for the moment. Outside, he couldsee, as he stood wiping his chin, the car and the excited crowd. Apatrol wagon was there, and another. 

He walked over and looked out. It was an ambulance, backing in. 

He saw some energetic charging by the police and arrests being made. 

"Come on, now, if you want to take your car, " said an officer, openingthe door and looking in. He walked out, feeling rather uncertain ofhimself. He was very cold and frightened. 

"Where's the conductor?" he asked. 

"Oh, he's not here now, " said the policeman. 

Hurstwood went toward the car and stepped nervously on. As he did sothere was a pistol shot. Something stung his shoulder. 

"Who fired that?" he heard an officer exclaim. "By God! who did that?"Both left him, running toward a certain building. He paused a momentand then got down. 

"George!" exclaimed Hurstwood, weakly, "this is too much for me. "

He walked nervously to the corner and hurried down a side street. 

"Whew!" he said, drawing in his breath. 

A half block away, a small girl gazed at him. 

"You'd better sneak, " she called. 

He walked homeward in a blinding snowstorm, reaching the ferry by dusk. The cabins were filled with comfortable souls, who studied himcuriously. 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 stormpassed for nothing. He trudged doggedly on until he reached the flat. There he entered and found the room warm. Carrie was gone. A couple ofevening papers were lying on the table where she left them. He lit thegas 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 brownstudy, apparently, and combed his hair. Then he looked for somethingto eat, and finally, his hunger gone, sat down in his comfortablerocking-chair. It was a wonderful relief. 

He put his hand to his chin, forgetting, for the moment, the papers. 

"Well, " he said, after a time, his nature recovering itself, "that's apretty tough game over there. "

Then he turned and saw the papers. With half a sigh he picked up the"World. "

"Strike Spreading in Brooklyn, " he read. "Rioting Breaks Out in allParts of the City. "

He adjusted his paper very comfortably and continued. It was the onething he read with absorbing interest. 

Chapter XLIIA TOUCH OF SPRING--THE EMPTY SHELL

 Those who look upon Hurstwood's Brooklyn venture as an error ofjudgment will none the less realize the negative influence on him ofthe 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 worsethan the ordinary roughness--quitting so soon in the face of thisseemed trifling. He did not want to work. 

She was now one of a group of oriental beauties who, in the second actof the comic opera, were paraded by the vizier before the new potentateas the treasures of his harem. There was no word assigned to any ofthem, but on the evening when Hurstwood was housing himself in the loftof the street-car barn, the leading comedian and star, feelingexceedingly facetious, said in a profound voice, which created a rippleof laughter:

"Well, who are you?"

It merely happened to be Carrie who was curtsying before him. It mightas well have been any of the others, so far as he was concerned. Heexpected no answer and a dull one would have been reproved. ButCarrie, whose experience and belief in herself gave her daring, curtsied sweetly again and answered:

"I am yours truly. "

It was a trivial thing to say, and yet something in the way she did itcaught the audience, which laughed heartily at the mock fiercepotentate towering before the young woman. The comedian also liked it, hearing the laughter. 

"I thought your name was Smith, " he returned, endeavoring to get thelast laugh. 

Carrie almost trembled for her daring after she had said this. Allmembers of the company had been warned that to interpolate lines or"business" meant a fine or worse. She did not know what to think. 

As she was standing in her proper position in the wings, awaitinganother entry, the great comedian made his exit past her and paused inrecognition. 

"You can just leave that in hereafter, " he remarked, seeing howintelligent she appeared. "Don't add any more, though. "

"Thank you, " said Carrie, humbly. When he went on she found herselftrembling violently. 

"Well, you're in luck, " remarked another member of the chorus. "Thereisn't another one of us has got a line. "

There was no gainsaying the value of this. Everybody in the companyrealized that she had got a start. Carrie hugged herself when nextevening the lines got the same applause. She went home rejoicing, knowing that soon something must come of it. It was Hurstwood who, byhis presence, caused her merry thoughts to flee and replaced them withsharp longings for an end of distress. 

The next day she asked him about his venture. 

"They're not trying to run any cars except with police. They don'twant anybody just now--not before next week. "

Next week came, but Carrie saw no change. Hurstwood seemed moreapathetic than ever. He saw her off mornings to rehearsals and thelike with the utmost calm. He read and read. Several times he foundhimself staring at an item, but thinking of something else. The firstof these lapses that he sharply noticed concerned a hilarious party hehad once attended at a driving club, of which he had been a member. Hesat, gazing downward, and gradually thought he heard the old voices andthe clink of glasses. 

"You're a dandy, Hurstwood, " his friend Walker said. He was standingagain well dressed, smiling, good-natured, the recipient of encores fora good story. 

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 beendozing. The paper was so straight in his hands, however, and the itemshe had been reading so directly before him, that he rid himself of thedoze idea. Still, it seemed peculiar. When it occurred a second time, however, it did not seem quite so strange. 

Butcher and grocery man, baker and coal man--not the group with whom hewas then dealing, but those who had trusted him to the limit--called. He met them all blandly, becoming deft in excuse. At last he becamebold, pretended to be out, or waved them off. 

"They can't get blood out of a turnip, " he said. "if I had it I'd paythem. "

Carrie's little soldier friend, Miss Osborne, seeing her succeeding, had become a sort of satellite. Little Osborne could never of herselfamount to anything. She seemed to realize it in a sort of pussy-likeway and instinctively concluded to cling with her soft little claws toCarrie. 

"Oh, you'll get up, " she kept telling Carrie with admiration. "You'reso good. "

Timid as Carrie was, she was strong in capability. The reliance ofothers made her feel as if she must, and when she must she dared. Experience of the world and of necessity was in her favor. No longerthe lightest word of a man made her head dizzy. She had learned thatmen could change and fail. Flattery in its most palpable form had lostits force with her. It required superiority--kindly superiority--tomove her--the superiority of a genius like Ames. 

"I don't like the actors in our company, " she told Lola one day. "They're all so struck on themselves. "

"Don't you think Mr. Barclay's pretty nice?" inquired Lola, who hadreceived a condescending smile or two from that quarter. 

"Oh, he's nice enough, " answered Carrie; "but he isn't sincere. Heassumes such an air. "

Lola felt for her first hold upon Carrie in the following manner:

"Are you paying room-rent where you are?"

"Certainly, " answered Carrie. "Why?"

"I know where I could get the loveliest room and bath, cheap. It's toobig for me, but it would be just right for two, and the rent is onlysix dollars a week for both. "

"Where?" said Carrie. 

"In Seventeenth Street. "

"Well, I don't know as I'd care to change, " said Carrie, who wasalready turning over the three-dollar rate in her mind. She wasthinking if she had only herself to support this would leave herseventeen for herself. 

Nothing came of this until after the Brooklyn adventure of Hurstwood'sand her success with the speaking part. Then she began to feel as ifshe must be free. She thought of leaving Hurstwood and thus making himact for himself, but he had developed such peculiar traits she fearedhe might resist any effort to throw him off. He might hunt her out atthe show and hound her in that way. She did not wholly believe that hewould, but he might. This, she knew, would be an embarrassing thing ifhe made himself conspicuous in any way. It troubled her greatly. 

Things were precipitated by the offer of a better part. One of theactresses playing the part of a modest sweetheart gave notice ofleaving and Carrie was selected. 

"How much are you going to get?" asked Miss Osborne, on hearing thegood news. 

"I didn't ask him, " said Carrie. 

"Well, find out. Goodness, you'll never get anything if you don't ask. Tell them you must have forty dollars, anyhow. "

"Oh, no, " said Carrie. 

"Certainly!" exclaimed Lola. "Ask 'em, anyway. "

Carrie succumbed to this prompting, waiting, however, until the managergave her notice of what clothing she must have to fit the part. 

"How much do I get?" she inquired. 

"Thirty-five dollars, " he replied. 

Carrie was too much astonished and delighted to think of mentioningforty. She was nearly beside herself, and almost hugged Lola, whoclung to her at the news. 

"It isn't as much as you ought to get, " said the latter, "especiallywhen you've got to buy clothes. "

Carrie remembered this with a start. Where to get the money? She hadnone laid up for such an emergency. Rent day was drawing near. 

"I'll not do it, " she said, remembering her necessity. "I don't usethe flat. I'm not going to give up my money this time. I'll move. "

Fitting into this came another appeal from Miss Osborne, more urgentthan ever. 

"Come live with me, won't you?" she pleaded. "We can have theloveliest room. It won't cost you hardly anything that way. "

"I'd like to, " said Carrie, frankly. 

"Oh, do, " said Lola. "We'll have such a good time. "

Carrie thought a while. 

"I believe I will, " she said, and then added: "I'll have to see first, though. " With the idea thus grounded, rent day approaching, and clothescalling for instant purchase, she soon found excuse in Hurstwood'slassitude. He said less and drooped more than ever. 

As rent day approached, an idea grew in him. It was fostered by thedemands of creditors and the impossibility of holding up many more. Twenty-eight dollars was too much for rent. "It's hard on her, " hethought. "We could get a cheaper place. "

Stirred with this idea, he spoke at the breakfast table. 

"Don't you think we pay too much rent here?" he asked. 

"Indeed I do, " said Carrie, not catching his drift. 

"I should think we could get a smaller place, " he suggested. "We don'tneed four rooms. "

Her countenance, had he been scrutinizing her, would have exhibited thedisturbance she felt at this evidence of his determination to stay byher. He saw nothing remarkable in asking her to come down lower. 

"Oh, I don't know, " she answered, growing wary. 

"There must be places around here where we could get a couple of rooms, which would do just as well. "

Her heart revolted. "Never!" she thought. Who would furnish the moneyto move? To think of being in two rooms with him! She resolved to spendher money for clothes quickly, before something terrible happened. That very day she did it. Having done so, there was but one otherthing to do. 

"Lola, " she said, visiting her friend, "I think I'll come. "

"Oh, jolly!" cried the latter. 

"Can we get it right away?" she asked, meaning the room. 

"Certainly, " cried Lola. 

They went to look at it. Carrie had saved ten dollars from herexpenditures--enough for this and her board beside. Her enlargedsalary would not begin for ten days yet--would not reach her forseventeen. She paid half of the six dollars with her friend. 

"Now, I've just enough to get on to the end of the week, " she confided. 

"Oh, I've got some, " said Lola. "I've got twenty-five dollars, if youneed it. "

"No, " said Carrie. "I guess I'll get along. "

They decided to move Friday, which was two days away. Now that thething was settled, Carrie's heart misgave her. She felt very much likea criminal in the matter. Each day looking at Hurstwood, she hadrealized that, along with the disagreeableness of his attitude, therewas something pathetic. 

She looked at him the same evening she had made up her mind to go, andnow he seemed not so shiftless and worthless, but run down and beatenupon by chance. His eyes were not keen, his face marked, his handsflabby. She thought his hair had a touch of gray. All unconscious ofhis doom, he rocked and read his paper, while she glanced at him. 

Knowing that the end was so near, she became rather solicitous. 

"Will you go over and get some canned peaches?" she asked Hurstwood, laying down a two-dollar bill. 

"Certainly, " he said, looking in wonder at the money. 

"See if you can get some nice asparagus, " she added. "I'll cook it fordinner. "

Hurstwood rose and took the money, slipping on his overcoat and gettinghis hat. Carrie noticed that both of these articles of apparel wereold and poor looking in appearance. It was plain enough before, butnow it came home with peculiar force. Perhaps he couldn't help it, after all. He had done well in Chicago. She remembered his fineappearance the days he had met her in the park. Then he was sosprightly, so clean. Had it been all his fault?

He came back and laid the change down with the food. 

"You'd better keep it, " she observed. "We'll need other things. "

"No, " he said, with a sort of pride; "you keep it. "

"Oh, go on and keep it, " she replied, rather unnerved. "There'll beother things. "

He wondered at this, not knowing the pathetic figure he had become inher eyes. She restrained herself with difficulty from showing a quaverin her voice. 

To say truly, this would have been Carrie's attitude in any case. Shehad looked back at times upon her parting from Drouet and had regrettedthat she had served him so badly. She hoped she would never meet himagain, but she was ashamed of her conduct. Not that she had any choicein the final separation. She had gone willingly to seek him, withsympathy in her heart, when Hurstwood had reported him ill. There wassomething cruel somewhere, and not being able to track it mentally toits logical lair, she concluded with feeling that he would neverunderstand what Hurstwood had done and would see hard-hearted decisionin her deed; hence her shame. Not that she cared for him. She did notwant to make any one who had been good to her feel badly. 

She did not realize what she was doing by allowing these feelings topossess her. Hurstwood, noticing the kindness, conceived better ofher. "Carrie's good-natured, anyhow, " he thought. 

Going to Miss Osborne's that afternoon, she found that little ladypacking and singing. 

"Why don't you come over with me today?" she asked. 

"Oh, I can't, " said Carrie. "I'll be there Friday. Would you mindlending me the twenty-five dollars you spoke of?"

"Why, no, " said Lola, going for her purse. 

"I want to get some other things, " said Carrie. 

"Oh, that's all right, " answered the little girl, good-naturedly, gladto be of service. It had been days since Hurstwood had done more thango to the grocery or to the news-stand. Now the weariness of indoorswas upon him--had been for two days--but chill, gray weather had heldhim back. Friday broke fair and warm. It was one of those lovelyharbingers of spring, given as a sign in dreary winter that earth isnot forsaken of warmth and beauty. The blue heaven, holding its onegolden orb, poured down a crystal wash of warm light. It was plain, from the voice of the sparrows, that all was halcyon outside. Carrieraised the front windows, and felt the south wind blowing. 

"It's lovely out to-day, " she remarked. 

"Is it?" said Hurstwood. 

After breakfast, he immediately got his other clothes. 

"Will you be back for lunch?" asked Carrie nervously. 

"No, " he said. 

He went out into the streets and tramped north, along Seventh Avenue, idly fixing upon the Harlem River as an objective point. He had seensome ships up there, the time he had called upon the brewers. Hewondered how the territory thereabouts was growing. 

Passing Fifty-ninth Street, he took the west side of Central Park, which he followed to Seventy-eighth Street. Then he remembered theneighborhood 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 turnedinto Seventh Avenue again, reaching the pretty river by one o'clock. 

There it ran winding before his gaze, shining brightly in the clearlight, between the undulating banks on the right and the tall, tree-covered heights on the left. The spring-like atmosphere woke him to asense of its loveliness, and for a few moments he stood looking at it, folding his hands behind his back. Then he turned and followed ittoward the east side, idly seeking the ships he had seen. It was fouro'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 warmroom. 

When he reached the flat by half-past five, it was still dark. He knewthat Carrie was not there, not only because there was no light showingthrough the transom, but because the evening papers were stuck betweenthe outside knob and the door. He opened with his key and went in. Everything was still dark. Lighting the gas, he sat down, preparing towait a little while. Even if Carrie did come now, dinner would belate. He read until six, then got up to fix something for himself. 

As he did so, he noticed that the room seemed a little queer. What wasit? He looked around, as if he missed something, and then saw anenvelope near where he had been sitting. It spoke for itself, almostwithout further action on his part. 

Reaching over, he took it, a sort of chill settling upon him even whilehe reached. The crackle of the envelope in his hands was loud. Greenpaper money lay soft within the note. 

 "Dear George, " he read, crunching the money in one hand, "I'm goingaway. I'm not coming back any more. It's no use trying to keep up theflat; I can't do it. I wouldn't mind helping you, if I could, but Ican't support us both, and pay the rent. I need what little I make topay for my clothes. I'm leaving twenty dollars. It's all I have justnow. You can do whatever you like with the furniture. I won't wantit. --CARRIE. 

He dropped the note and looked quietly round. Now he knew what hemissed. It was the little ornamental clock, which was hers. It hadgone from the mantelpiece. He went into the front room, his bedroom, the parlor, lighting the gas as he went. From the chiffonier had gonethe knick-knacks of silver and plate. From the table-top, the lacecoverings. He opened the wardrobe--no clothes of hers. He opened thedrawers--nothing of hers. Her trunk was gone from its accustomedplace. Back in his own room hung his old clothes, just as he had leftthem. Nothing else was gone. 

He stepped into the parlor and stood for a few moments looking vacantlyat the floor. The silence grew oppressive. The little flat seemedwonderfully deserted. He wholly forgot that he was hungry, that it wasonly dinner-time. It seemed later in the night. 

Suddenly, he found that the money was still in his hands. There weretwenty dollars in all, as she had said. Now he walked back, leavingthe lights ablaze, and feeling as if the flat were empty. 

"I'll get out of this, " he said to himself. 

Then the sheer loneliness of his situation rushed upon him in full. 

"Left me!" he muttered, and repeated, "left me!"

The place that had been so comfortable, where he had spent so many daysof warmth, was now a memory. Something colder and chillier confrontedhim. He sank down in his chair, resting his chin in his hand--meresensation, without thought, holding him. 

Then something like a bereaved affection and self-pity swept over him. 

"She needn't have gone away, " he said. "I'd have got something. "

He sat a long while without rocking, and added quite clearly, out loud:

"I tried, didn't I?"

At midnight he was still rocking, staring at the floor. 

Chapter XLIIITHE WORLD TURNS FLATTERER--AN EYE IN THE DARK

 Installed in her comfortable room, Carrie wondered how Hurstwood hadtaken her departure. She arranged a few things hastily and then leftfor the theatre, half expecting to encounter him at the door. Notfinding him, her dread lifted, and she felt more kindly toward him. She quite forgot him until about to come out, after the show, when thechance of his being there frightened her. As day after day passed andshe heard nothing at all, the thought of being bothered by him passed. In a little while she was, except for occasional thoughts, wholly freeof the gloom with which her life had been weighed in the flat. 

It is curious to note how quickly a profession absorbs one. Carriebecame wise in theatrical lore, hearing the gossip of little Lola. Shelearned what the theatrical papers were, which ones published itemsabout 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 berenowned like others, and read with avidity all the complimentary orcritical comments made concerning others high in her profession. Theshowy world in which her interest lay completely absorbed her. 

It was about this time that the newspapers and magazines were beginningto pay that illustrative attention to the beauties of the stage whichhas since become fervid. The newspapers, and particularly the Sundaynewspapers, indulged in large decorative theatrical pages, in which thefaces and forms of well-known theatrical celebrities appeared, enclosedwith artistic scrolls. The magazines also or at least one or two of thenewer ones-published occasional portraits of pretty stars, and now andagain photos of scenes from various plays. Carrie watched these withgrowing interest. When would a scene from her opera appear? When wouldsome paper think her photo worth while?

The Sunday before taking her new part she scanned the theatrical pagesfor some little notice. It would have accorded with her expectationsif nothing had been said, but there in the squibs, tailing off severalmore substantial items, was a wee notice. Carrie read it with atingling body:

 "The part of Katisha, the country maid, in 'The Wives of Abdul' at theBroadway, heretofore played by Inez Carew, will be hereafter filled byCarrie Madenda, one of the cleverest members of the chorus. "

 Carrie hugged herself with delight. Oh, wasn't it just fine! At last!The first, the long-hoped for, the delightful notice! And they calledher clever. She could hardly restrain herself from laughing loudly. Had Lola seen it?

"They've got a notice here of the part I'm going to play tomorrownight, " said Carrie to her friend. 

"Oh, jolly! Have they?" cried Lola, running to her. "That's allright, " she said, looking. "You'll get more now, if you do well. I hadmy picture in the 'World' once. "

"Did you?" asked Carrie. 

"Did I? Well, I should say, " returned the little girl. "They had aframe around it. "

Carrie laughed. 

"They've never published my picture. "

"But they will, " said Lola. "You'll see. You do better than most thatget theirs in now. "

Carrie felt deeply grateful for this. She almost loved Lola for thesympathy and praise she extended. It was so helpful to her-so almostnecessary. 

Fulfilling her part capably brought another notice in the papers thatshe was doing her work acceptably. This pleased her immensely. Shebegan to think the world was taking note of her. 

The first week she got her thirty-five dollars, it seemed an enormoussum. Paying only three dollars for room rent seemed ridiculous. Aftergiving Lola her twenty-five, she still had seven dollars left. Withfour left over from previous earnings, she had eleven. Five of thiswent to pay the regular installment on the clothes she had to buy. Thenext week she was even in greater feather. Now, only three dollarsneed be paid for room rent and five on her clothes. The rest she hadfor food and her own whims. 

"You'd better save a little for summer, " cautioned Lola. "We'llprobably close in May. "

"I intend to, " said Carrie. 

The regular entrance of thirty-five dollars a week to one who hasendured scant allowances for several years is a demoralizing thing. Carrie found her purse bursting with good green bills of comfortabledenominations. Having no one dependent upon her, she began to buypretty clothes and pleasing trinkets, to eat well, and to ornament herroom. Friends were not long in gathering about. She met a few youngmen who belonged to Lola's staff. The members of the opera company madeher acquaintance without the formality of introduction. One of thesediscovered a fancy for her. On several occasions he strolled home withher. 

"Let's stop in and have a rarebit, " he suggested one midnight. 

"Very well, " said Carrie. 

In the rosy restaurant, filled with the merry lovers of late hours, shefound herself criticizing this man. He was too stilted, too self-opinionated. He did not talk of anything that lifted her above thecommon run of clothes and material success. When it was all over, hesmiled most graciously. 

"Got to go straight home, have you?" he said. 

"Yes, " she answered, with an air of quiet understanding. 

"She's not so inexperienced as she looks, " he thought, and thereafterhis respect and ardor were increased. 

She could not help sharing in Lola's love for a good time. There weredays when they went carriage riding, nights when after the show theydined, afternoons when they strolled along Broadway, tastefullydressed. She was getting in the metropolitan whirl of pleasure. 

At last her picture appeared in one of the weeklies. She had not knownof it, and it took her breath. "Miss Carrie Madenda, " it was labeled. "One of the favorites of 'The Wives of Abdul' company. " At Lola'sadvice she had had some pictures taken by Sarony. They had got onethere. 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 themto. Only Lola, apparently, in all the world was interested. 

The metropolis is a cold place socially, and Carrie soon found that alittle money brought her nothing. The world of wealth and distinctionwas quite as far away as ever. She could feel that there was no warm, sympathetic friendship back of the easy merriment with which manyapproached her. All seemed to be seeking their own amusement, regardless of the possible sad consequence to others. So much for thelessons of Hurstwood and Drouet. 

In April she learned that the opera would probably last until themiddle or the end of May, according to the size of the audiences. Nextseason 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 securinga home engagement. 

"They're putting on a summer play at the Casino, " she announced, afterfiguratively putting her ear to the ground. "Let's try and get inthat. "

"I'm willing, " said Carrie. 

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. 

"Those that want to go with the show next season, " said the manager, "will have to sign this week. "

"Don't you sign, " advised Lola. "I wouldn't go. "

"I know, " said Carrie, "but maybe I can't get anything else. "

"Well, I won't, " said the little girl, who had a resource in heradmirers. "I went once and I didn't have anything at the end of theseason. "

Carrie thought this over. She had never been on the road. 

"We can get along, " added Lola. "I always have. "

Carrie did not sign. 

The manager who was putting on the summer skit at the Casino had neverheard of Carrie, but the several notices she had received, herpublished picture, and the program bearing her name had some littleweight with him. He gave her a silent part at thirty dollars a week. 

"Didn't I tell you?" said Lola. "It doesn't do you any good to go awayfrom New York. They forget all about you if you do. "

Now, because Carrie was pretty, the gentlemen who made up the advanceillustrations of shows about to appear for the Sunday papers selectedCarrie's photo along with others to illustrate the announcement. Because she was very pretty, they gave it excellent space and drewscrolls about it. Carrie was delighted. Still, the management did notseem to have seen anything of it. At least, no more attention was paidto her than before. At the same time there seemed very little in herpart. It consisted of standing around in all sorts of scenes, a silentlittle Quakeress. The author of the skit had fancied that a great dealcould 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 itcut out. 

"Don't kick, old man, " remarked the manager. "If it don't go the firstweek we will cut it out. "

Carrie had no warning of this halcyon intention. She practiced herpart ruefully, feeling that she was effectually shelved. At the dressrehearsal she was disconsolate. 

"That isn't so bad, " said the author, the manager noting the curiouseffect which Carrie's blues had upon the part. "Tell her to frown alittle more when Sparks dances. "

Carrie did not know it, but there was the least show of wrinklesbetween her eyes and her mouth was puckered quaintly. 

"Frown a little more, Miss Madenda, " said the stage manager. 

Carrie instantly brightened up, thinking he had meant it as a rebuke. 

"No; frown, " he said. "Frown as you did before. "

Carrie looked at him in astonishment. 

"I mean it, " he said. "Frown hard when Mr. Sparks dances. I want tosee how it looks. "

It was easy enough to do. Carrie scowled. The effect was something soquaint and droll it caught even the manager. 

"That is good, " he said. "If she'll do that all through, I think itwill take. "

Going over to Carrie, he said:

"Suppose you try frowning all through. Do it hard. Look mad. It'llmake the part really funny. "

On the opening night it looked to Carrie as if there were nothing toher part, after all. The happy, sweltering audience did not seem tosee her in the first act. She frowned and frowned, but to no effect. Eyes were riveted upon the more elaborate efforts of the stars. 

In the second act, the crowd, wearied by a dull conversation, rovedwith its eyes about the stage and sighted her. There she was, suited-suited, sweet-faced, demure, but scowling. At first the general ideawas that she was temporarily irritated, that the look was genuine andnot fun at all. As she went on frowning, looking now at one principaland now at the other, the audience began to smile. The portlygentlemen in the front rows began to feel that she was a deliciouslittle morsel. It was the kind of frown they would have loved to forceaway with kisses. All the gentlemen yearned toward her. She wascapital. 

At last, the chief comedian, singing in the center of the stage, noticed a giggle where it was not expected. Then another and another. When the place came for loud applause it was only moderate. What couldbe the trouble? He realized that something was up. 

All at once, after an exit, he caught sight of Carrie. She wasfrowning alone on the stage and the audience was giggling and laughing. 

"By George, I won't stand that!" thought the thespian. "I'm not goingto have my work cut up by some one else. Either she quits that when Ido my turn or I quit. "

"Why, that's all right, " said the manager, when the kick came. "That'swhat she's supposed to do. You needn't pay any attention to that. "

"But she ruins my work. "

"No, she don't, " returned the former, soothingly. "It's only a littlefun on the side. "

"It is, eh?" exclaimed the big comedian. "She killed my hand allright. I'm not going to stand that. "

"Well, wait until after the show. Wait until to-morrow. We'll seewhat we can do. "

The next act, however, settled what was to be done. Carrie was thechief feature of the play. The audience, the more it studied her, themore it indicated its delight. Every other feature paled beside thequaint, teasing, delightful atmosphere which Carrie contributed whileon the stage. Manager and company realized she had made a hit. 

The critics of the daily papers completed her triumph. There were longnotices in praise of the quality of the burlesque, touched withrecurrent references to Carrie. The contagious mirth of the thing wasrepeatedly emphasized. 

 "Miss Madenda presents one of the most delightful bits of characterwork ever seen on the Casino stage, " observed the stage critic of the"Sun. " "It is a bit of quiet, unassuming drollery which warms likegood wine. Evidently the part was not intended to take precedence, asMiss Madenda is not often on the stage, but the audience, with thecharacteristic perversity of such bodies, selected for itself. Thelittle Quakeress was marked for a favorite the moment she appeared, andthereafter easily held attention and applause. The vagaries of fortuneare indeed curious. "

 The critic of the "Evening World, " seeking as usual to establish acatch phrase which should "go" with the town, wound up by advising: "Ifyou wish to be merry, see Carrie frown. "

The result was miraculous so far as Carrie's fortune was concerned. Even during the morning she received a congratulatory message from themanager. 

"You seem to have taken the town by storm, " he wrote. "This isdelightful. I am as glad for your sake as for my own. "

The author also sent word. 

That evening when she entered the theatre the manager had a mostpleasant greeting for her. 

"Mr. Stevens, " he said, referring to the author, "is preparing a littlesong, which he would like you to sing next week. "

"Oh, I can't sing, " returned Carrie. 

"It isn't anything difficult. 'It's something that is very simple, ' hesays, 'and would suit you exactly. '"

"Of course, I wouldn't mind trying, " said Carrie, archly. 

"Would you mind coming to the box-office a few moments before youdress?" observed the manager, in addition. "There's a little matter Iwant to speak to you about. "

"Certainly, " replied Carrie. 

In that latter place the manager produced a paper. 

"Now, of course, " he said, "we want to be fair with you in the matterof salary. Your contract here only calls for thirty dollars a week forthe next three months. How would it do to make it, say, one hundredand fifty a week and extend it for twelve months?"

"Oh, very well, " said Carrie, scarcely believing her ears. 

"Supposing, then, you just sign this. "

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 handtrembling from excitement she affixed her name. 

"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 norealizing, in consciousness, the meaning of large sums. It was only ashimmering, glittering phrase in which lay a world of possibilities. 

Down in a third-rate Bleecker Street hotel, the brooding Hurstwood readthe dramatic item covering Carrie's success, without at first realizingwho was meant. Then suddenly it came to him and he read the wholething over again. 

"That's her, all right, I guess, " he said. 

Then he looked about upon a dingy, moth-eaten hotel lobby. 

"I guess she's struck it, " he thought, a picture of the old shiny, plush-covered world coming back, with its lights, its ornaments, itscarriages, and flowers. Ah, she was in the walled city now! Itssplendid gates had opened, admitting her from a cold, dreary outside. She seemed a creature afar off--like every other celebrity he hadknown. 

"Well, let her have it, " he said. "I won't bother her. "

It was the grim resolution of a bent, bedraggled, but unbroken pride. 

Chapter XLIVAND THIS IS NOT ELF LAND--WHAT GOLD WILL NOT BUY

 When Carrie got back on the stage, she found that over night herdressing-room had been changed. 

"You are to use this room, Miss Madenda, " said one of the stagelackeys. 

No longer any need of climbing several flights of steps to a small coopshared with another. Instead, a comparatively large and commodiouschamber with conveniences not enjoyed by the small fry overhead. Shebreathed deeply and with delight. Her sensations were more physicalthan mental. In fact, she was scarcely thinking at all. Heart andbody were having their say. 

Gradually the deference and congratulation gave her a mentalappreciation of her state. She was no longer ordered, but requested, and that politely. The other members of the cast looked at herenviously as she came out arrayed in her simple habit, which she woreall through the play. All those who had supposedly been her equals andsuperiors now smiled the smile of sociability, as much as to say: "Howfriendly we have always been. " Only the star comedian whose part hadbeen so deeply injured stalked by himself. Figuratively, he could notkiss the hand that smote him. 

Doing her simple part, Carrie gradually realized the meaning of theapplause which was for her, and it was sweet. She felt mildly guiltyof something--perhaps unworthiness. When her associates addressed herin the wings she only smiled weakly. The pride and daring of place werenot 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 herroom with Lola, in a carriage provided. 

Then came a week in which the first fruits of success were offered toher lips--bowl after bowl. It did not matter that her splendid salaryhad not begun. The world seemed satisfied with the promise. She beganto get letters and cards. A Mr. Withers-whom she did not know fromAdam--having learned by some hook or crook where she resided, bowedhimself politely in. 

"You will excuse me for intruding, " he said; "but have you beenthinking of changing your apartments?"

"I hadn't thought of it, " returned Carrie. 

"Well, I am connected with the Wellington--the new hotel on Broadway. You have probably seen notices of it in the papers. "

Carrie recognized the name as standing for one of the newest and mostimposing hostelries. She had heard it spoken of as having a splendidrestaurant. 

"Just so, " went on Mr. Withers, accepting her acknowledgment offamiliarity. "We have some very elegant rooms at present which wewould like to have you look at, if you have not made up your mind whereyou intend to reside for the summer. Our apartments are perfect inevery detail--hot and cold water, private baths, special hall servicefor every floor, elevators, and all that. You know what our restaurantis. "

Carrie looked at him quietly. She was wondering whether he took her tobe a millionaire. 

"What are your rates?" she inquired. 

"Well, now, that is what I came to talk with you privately about. Ourregular rates are anywhere from three to fifty dollars a day. "

"Mercy!" interrupted Carrie. "I couldn't pay any such rate as that. "

"I know how you feel about it, " exclaimed Mr. Withers, halting. "Butjust let me explain. I said those are our regular rates. Like everyother hotel we make special ones however. Possibly you have notthought about it, but your name is worth something to us. " "Oh!"ejaculated Carrie, seeing at a glance. 

"Of course. Every hotel depends upon the repute of its patrons. Awell-known actress like yourself, " and he bowed politely, while Carrieflushed, "draws attention to the hotel, and--although you may notbelieve it--patrons. "

"Oh, yes, " returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to arrange this curiousproposition in her mind. 

"Now, " continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby hat softly and beatingone of his polished shoes upon the floor, "I want to arrange, ifpossible, to have you come and stop at the Wellington. You need nottrouble about terms. In fact, we need hardly discuss them. Anythingwill do for the summer--a mere figure--anything that you think youcould afford to pay. "

Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no chance. 

"You can come to-day or to-morrow--the earlier the better--and we willgive you your choice of nice, light, outside rooms--the very best wehave. "

"You're very kind, " said Carrie, touched by the agent's extremeaffability. "I should like to come very much. I would want to paywhat is right, however. I shouldn't want to----"

"You need not trouble about that at all, " interrupted Mr. Withers. "Wecan arrange that to your entire satisfaction at any time. If threedollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will be so to us. All youhave to do is to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of the week ormonth, just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt for what therooms would cost if charged for at our regular rates. "

The speaker paused. 

"Suppose you come and look at the rooms, " he added. 

"I'd be glad to, " said Carrie, "but I have a rehearsal this morning. "

"I did not mean at once, " he returned. "Any time will do. Would thisafternoon be inconvenient?"

"Not at all, " said Carrie. 

Suddenly she remembered Lola, who was out at the time. 

"I have a room-mate, " she added, "who will have to go wherever I do. Iforgot about that. "

"Oh, very well, " said Mr. Withers, blandly. "It is for you to say whomyou want with you. As I say, all that can be arranged to suityourself. "

He bowed and backed toward the door. 

"At four, then, we may expect you?"

"Yes, " said Carrie. 

"I will be there to show you, " and so Mr. Withers withdrew. 

After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola. "Did they really?" exclaimed thelatter, thinking of the Wellington as a group of managers. "Isn't thatfine? Oh, jolly! It's so swell. That's where we dined that night wewent with those two Cushing boys. Don't you know?"

"I remember, " said Carrie. 

"Oh, it's as fine as it can be. "

"We'd better be going up there, " observed Carrie later in theafternoon. 

The rooms which Mr. Withers displayed to Carrie and Lola were three andbath--a suite on the parlor floor. They were done in chocolate anddark red, with rugs and hangings to match. Three windows looked downinto busy Broadway on the east, three into a side street which crossedthere. There were two lovely bedrooms, set with brass and white enamelbeds, white ribbon-trimmed chairs and chiffoniers to match. In thethird room, or parlor, was a piano, a heavy piano lamp, with a shade ofgorgeous pattern, a library table, several huge easy rockers, some dadobook shelves, and a gilt curio case, filled with oddities. Pictureswere upon the walls, soft Turkish pillows upon the divan footstools ofbrown plush upon the floor. Such accommodations would ordinarily costa hundred dollars a week. 

"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Lola, walking about. 

"It is comfortable, " said Carrie, who was lifting a lace curtain andlooking down into crowded Broadway. 

The bath was a handsome affair, done in white enamel, with a large, blue-bordered stone tub and nickel trimmings. It was bright andcommodious, with a beveled mirror set in the wall at one end andincandescent lights arranged in three places. 

"Do you find these satisfactory?" observed Mr. Withers. 

"Oh, very, " answered Carrie. 

"Well, then, any time you find it convenient to move in, they areready. The boy will bring you the keys at the door. "

Carrie noted the elegantly carpeted and decorated hall, the marbledlobby, and showy waiting-room. It was such a place as she had oftendreamed of occupying. 

"I guess we'd better move right away, don't you think so?" she observedto Lola, thinking of the commonplace chamber in Seventeenth Street. 

"Oh, by all means, " said the latter. 

The next day her trunks left for the new abode. 

Dressing, after the matinee on Wednesday, a knock came at her dressing-room door. 

Carrie looked at the card handed by the boy and suffered a shock ofsurprise. 

"Tell her I'll be right out, " she said softly. Then, looking at thecard, added: "Mrs. Vance. "

"Why, you little sinner, " the latter exclaimed, as she saw Carriecoming toward her across the now vacant stage. "How in the world didthis happen?"

Carrie laughed merrily. There was no trace of embarrassment in herfriend's manner. You would have thought that the long separation hadcome about accidentally. 

"I don't know, " returned Carrie, warming, in spite of her firsttroubled feelings, toward this handsome, good-natured young matron. 

"Well, you know, I saw your picture in the Sunday paper, but your namethrew me off. I thought it must be you or somebody that looked justlike 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?"

"Oh, very well, " returned Carrie. "How have you been?"

"Fine. But aren't you a success! Dear, oh! All the papers talkingabout you. I should think you would be just too proud to breathe. Iwas almost afraid to come back here this afternoon. "

"Oh, nonsense, " said Carrie, blushing. "You know I'd be glad to seeyou. "

"Well, anyhow, here you are. Can't you come up and take dinner with menow? Where are you stopping?"

"At the Wellington, " said Carrie, who permitted herself a touch ofpride in the acknowledgment. 

"Oh, are you?" exclaimed the other, upon whom the name was not withoutits proper effect. 

Tactfully, Mrs. Vance avoided the subject of Hurstwood, of whom shecould not help thinking. No doubt Carrie had left him. That much shesurmised. 

"Oh, I don't think I can, " said Carrie, "to-night. I have so littletime. I must be back here by 7. 30. Won't you come and dine with me?"

"I'd be delighted, but I can't to-night, " said Mrs. Vance studyingCarrie's fine appearance. The latter's good fortune made her seem morethan ever worthy and delightful in the others eyes. "I promisedfaithfully to be home at six. " Glancing at the small gold watch pinnedto her bosom, she added: "I must be going, too. Tell me when you'recoming up, if at all. "

"Why, any time you like, " said Carrie. 

"Well, to-morrow then. I'm living at the Chelsea now. "

"Moved again?" exclaimed Carrie, laughing. 

"Yes. You know I can't stay six months in one place. I just have tomove. Remember now--half-past five. "

"I won't forget, " said Carrie, casting a glance at her as she wentaway. Then it came to her that she was as good as this woman now--perhaps better. Something in the other's solicitude and interest madeher feel as if she were the one to condescend. 

Now, as on each preceding day, letters were handed her by the doormanat the Casino. This was a feature which had rapidly developed sinceMonday. What they contained she well knew. MASH NOTES were oldaffairs in their mildest form. She remembered having received herfirst one far back in Columbia City. Since then, as a chorus girl, shehad received others--gentlemen who prayed for an engagement. They werecommon sport between her and Lola, who received some also. They bothfrequently made light of them. 

Now, however, they came thick and fast. Gentlemen with fortunes didnot hesitate to note, as an addition to their own amiable collection ofvirtues, that they had their horses and carriages. Thus one:

 "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 saythis, not because I want to speak of my money, but because I love youand wish to gratify your every desire. It is love that prompts me towrite. Will you not give me one half hour in which to plead my cause?"

 Such of these letters as came while Carrie was still in theSeventeenth Street place were read with more interest--though neverdelight--than those which arrived after she was installed in herluxurious quarters at the Wellington. Even there her vanity--or thatself-appreciation which, in its more rabid form, is called vanity--wasnot sufficiently cloyed to make these things wearisome. Adulation, being new in any form, pleased her. Only she was sufficiently wise todistinguish between her old condition and her new one. She had not hadfame or money before. Now they had come. She had not had adulation andaffectionate propositions before. Now they had come. Wherefore? Shesmiled to think that men should suddenly find her so much moreattractive. In the least way it incited her to coolness andindifference. 

"Do look here, " she remarked to Lola. "See what this man says: 'If youwill only deign to grant me one half-hour, '" she repeated, with animitation of languor. "The idea. Aren't men silly?"

"He must have lots of money, the way he talks, " observed Lola. "That'swhat they all say, " said Carrie, innocently. 

"Why don't you see him, " suggested Lola, "and hear what he has to say?"

"Indeed I won't, " said Carrie. "I know what he'd say. I don't want tomeet anybody that way. "

Lola looked at her with big, merry eyes. 

"He couldn't hurt you, " she returned. "You might have some fun withhim. "

Carrie shook her head. 

"You're awfully queer, " returned the little, blue-eyed soldier. 

Thus crowded fortune. For this whole week, though her large salary hadnot yet arrived, it was as if the world understood and trusted her. Without money--or the requisite sum, at least--she enjoyed the luxurieswhich money could buy. For her the doors of fine places seemed to openquite without the asking. These palatial chambers, how marvelouslythey came to her. The elegant apartments of Mrs. Vance in the Chelsea--these were hers. Men sent flowers, love notes, offers of fortune. Andstill her dreams ran riot. The one hundred and fifty! the one hundredand 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 fortunemust be, with ample money, grew and multiplied. She conceived ofdelights which were not--saw lights of joy that never were on land orsea. Then, at last, after a world of anticipation, came her firstinstallment of one hundred and fifty dollars. 

It was paid to her in greenbacks--three twenties, six tens, and sixfives. Thus collected it made a very convenient roll. It wasaccompanied by a smile and a salutation from the cashier who paid it. 

"Ah, yes, " said the latter, when she applied; "Miss Madenda--onehundred and fifty dollars. Quite a success the show seems to havemade. "

"Yes, indeed, " returned Carrie. 

Right after came one of the insignificant members of the company, andshe heard the changed tone of address. 

"How much?" said the same cashier, sharply. One, such as she had onlyrecently been, was waiting for her modest salary. It took her back tothe few weeks in which she had collected--or rather had received--almost with the air of a domestic, four-fifty per week from a lordlyforeman in a shoe factory--a man who, in distributing the envelopes, had the manner of a prince doling out favors to a servile group ofpetitioners. She knew that out in Chicago this very day the samefactory chamber was full of poor homely-clad girls working in longlines at clattering machines; that at noon they would eat a miserablelunch in a half-hour; that Saturday they would gather, as they had whenshe was one of them, and accept the small pay for work a hundred timesharder than she was now doing. Oh, it was so easy now! The world wasso rosy and bright. She felt so thrilled that she must needs walk backto the hotel to think, wondering what she should do. 

It does not take money long to make plain its impotence, providing thedesires are in the realm of affection. With her one hundred and fiftyin hand, Carrie could think of nothing particularly to do. In itself, as a tangible, apparent thing which she could touch and look upon, itwas a diverting thing for a few days, but this soon passed. Her hotelbill did not require its use. Her clothes had for some time beenwholly satisfactory. Another day or two and she would receive anotherhundred and fifty. It began to appear as if this were not sostartlingly necessary to maintain her present state. If she wanted todo anything better or move higher she must have more--a great dealmore. 

Now a critic called to get up one of those tinsel interviews whichshine with clever observations, show up the wit of critics, display thefolly of celebrities, and divert the public. He liked Carrie, and saidso, publicly--adding, however, that she was merely pretty, good-natured, and lucky. This cut like a knife. The "Herald, " getting upan entertainment for the benefit of its free ice fund, did her thehonor to beg her to appear along with celebrities for nothing. She wasvisited by a young author, who had a play which he thought she couldproduce. Alas, she could not judge. It hurt her to think it. Thenshe 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'sperfect enjoyment was not open. 

Gradually she began to think it was because it was summer. Nothing wasgoing on much save such entertainments as the one in which she was thestar. Fifth Avenue was boarded up where the rich had deserted theirmansions. Madison Avenue was little better. Broadway was full ofloafing thespians in search of next season's engagements. The wholecity was quiet and her nights were taken up with her work. Hence thefeeling that there was little to do. 

"I don't know, " she said to Lola one day, sitting at one of the windowswhich looked down into Broadway, "I get lonely; don't you?"

"No, " said Lola, "not very often. You won't go anywhere. That'swhat's the matter with you. "

"Where can I go?"

"Why, there're lots of places, " returned Lola, who was thinking of herown lightsome tourneys with the gay youths. "You won't go withanybody. "

"I don't want to go with these people who write to me. I know whatkind they are. "

"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. "

Carrie looked out again at the passing crowd. 

"I don't know, " she said. 

Unconsciously her idle hands were beginning to weary. 

Chapter XLVCURIOUS SHIFTS OF THE POOR

 The gloomy Hurstwood, sitting in his cheap hotel, where he had takenrefuge with seventy dollars--the price of his furniture-between him andnothing, saw a hot summer out and a cool fall in, reading. He was notwholly indifferent to the fact that his money was slipping away. Asfifty cents after fifty cents were paid out for a day's lodging hebecame uneasy, and finally took a cheaper room--thirty-five cents aday--to make his money last longer. Frequently he saw notices ofCarrie. Her picture was in the "World" once or twice, and an old"Herald" he found in a chair informed him that she had recentlyappeared with some others at a benefit for something or other. He readthese things with mingled feelings. Each one seemed to put her fartherand farther away into a realm which became more imposing as it recededfrom him. On the billboards, too, he saw a pretty poster, showing heras the Quaker Maid, demure and dainty. More than once he stopped andlooked 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 thatshe now seemed to be. 

Somehow, so long as he knew she was at the Casino, though he had neverany intention of going near her, there was a subconscious comfort forhim--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 was stillrunning. 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 afifteen-cent lodging-house in the Bowery, where there was a barelounging-room filled with tables and benches as well as some chairs. Here his preference was to close his eyes and dream of other days, ahabit which grew upon him. It was not sleep at first, but a mentalhearkening back to scenes and incidents in his Chicago life. As thepresent became darker, the past grew brighter, and all that concernedit stood in relief. 

He was unconscious of just how much this habit had hold of him untilone day he found his lips repeating an old answer he had made to one ofhis friends. They were in Fitzgerald and Moy's. It was as if he stoodin the door of his elegant little office, comfortably dressed, talkingto Sagar Morrison about the value of South Chicago real estate in whichthe latter was about to invest. 

"How would you like to come in on that with me?" he heard Morrison say. 

"Not me, " he answered, just as he had years before. "I have my handsfull now. "

The movement of his lips aroused him. He wondered whether he hadreally spoken. The next time he noticed anything of the sort he reallydid talk. 

"Why don't you jump, you bloody fool?" he was saying. "Jump!"

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 mostpointed way. Hurstwood straightened up. The humor of the memory fledin an instant and he felt ashamed. For relief, he left his chair andstrolled out into the streets. 

One day, looking down the ad. Columns of the "Evening World, " he sawwhere a new play was at the Casino. Instantly, he came to a mentalhalt. Carrie had gone! He remembered seeing a poster of her onlyyesterday, but no doubt it was one left uncovered by the new signs. Curiously, this fact shook him up. He had almost to admit that somehowhe was depending upon her being in the city. Now she was gone. Hewondered how this important fact had skipped him. Goodness knows whenshe would be back now. Impelled by a nervous fear, he rose and wentinto the dingy hall, where he counted his remaining money, unseen. There were but ten dollars in all. 

He wondered how all these other lodging-house people around him gotalong. They didn't seem to do anything. Perhaps they begged--unquestionably they did. Many was the dime he had given to such asthey in his day. He had seen other men asking for money on thestreets. Maybe he could get some that way. There was horror in thisthought. 

Sitting in the lodging-house room, he came to his last fifty cents. Hehad saved and counted until his health was affected. His stoutness hadgone. With it, even the semblance of a fit in his clothes. Now hedecided he must do something, and, walking about, saw another day goby, bringing him down to his last twenty cents--not enough to eat forthe morrow. 

Summoning all his courage, he crossed to Broadway and up to theBroadway Central hotel. Within a block he halted, undecided. A big, heavy-faced porter was standing at one of the side entrances, lookingout. Hurstwood purposed to appeal to him. Walking straight up, he wasupon him before he could turn away. 

"My friend, " he said, recognizing even in his plight the man'sinferiority, "is there anything about this hotel that I could get todo?"

The porter stared at him the while he continued to talk. 

"I'm out of work and out of money and I've got to get something, -itdoesn't matter what. I don't care to talk about what I've been, but ifyou'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 tohave something. "

The porter still gazed, trying to look indifferent. Then, seeing thatHurstwood was about to go on, he said:

"I've nothing to do with it. You'll have to ask inside. "

Curiously, this stirred Hurstwood to further effort. 

"I thought you might tell me. "

The fellow shook his head irritably. 

Inside went the ex-manager and straight to an office off the clerk'sdesk. One of the managers of the hotel happened to be there. Hurstwood looked him straight in the eye. 

"Could you give me something to do for a few days?" he said. "I'm in aposition where I have to get something at once. "

The comfortable manager looked at him, as much as to say: "Well, Ishould judge so. "

"I came here, " explained Hurstwood, nervously, "because I've been amanager myself in my day. I've had bad luck in a way but I'm not hereto tell you that. I want something to do, if only for a week. "

The man imagined he saw a feverish gleam in the applicant's eye. 

"What hotel did you manage?" he inquired. 

"It wasn't a hotel, " said Hurstwood. "I was manager of Fitzgerald andMoy's place in Chicago for fifteen years. "

"Is that so?" said the hotel man. "How did you come to get out ofthat?"

The figure of Hurstwood was rather surprising in contrast to the fact. 

"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 willbelieve me, I haven't eaten anything to-day. "

The hotel man was slightly interested in this story. He could hardlytell what to do with such a figure, and yet Hurstwood's earnestnessmade him wish to do something. 

"Call Olsen, " he said, turning to the clerk. 

In reply to a bell and a disappearing hall-boy, Olsen, the head porter, appeared. 

"Olsen, " said the manager, "is there anything downstairs you could findfor this man to do? I'd like to give him something. "

"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. "

"Do. Take him to the kitchen and tell Wilson to give him something toeat. "

"All right, sir, " said Olsen. 

Hurstwood followed. Out of the manager's sight, the head porter'smanner changed. 

"I don't know what the devil there is to do, " he observed. 

Hurstwood said nothing. To him the big trunk hustler was a subject forprivate contempt. 

"You're to give this man something to eat, " he observed to the cook. 

The latter looked Hurstwood over, and seeing something keen andintellectual in his eyes, said:

"Well, sit down over there. "

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 thefoundation of every hotel. Nothing better offering, he was set to aidthe fireman, to work about the basement, to do anything and everythingthat might offer. Porters, cooks, firemen, clerks--all were over him. Moreover his appearance did not please these individuals--his temperwas too lonely--and they made it disagreeable for him. 

With the stolidity and indifference of despair, however, he endured itall, sleeping in an attic at the roof of the house, eating what thecook gave him, accepting a few dollars a week, which he tried to save. His constitution was in no shape to endure. 

One day the following February he was sent on an errand to a large coalcompany's office. It had been snowing and thawing and the streets weresloppy. He soaked his shoes in his progress and came back feeling dulland weary. All the next day he felt unusually depressed and sat aboutas much as possible, to the irritation of those who admired energy inothers. 

In the afternoon some boxes were to be moved to make room for newculinary supplies. He was ordered to handle a truck. Encountering abig box, he could not lift it. 

"What's the matter there?" said the head porter. "Can't you handleit?"

He was straining to lift it, but now he quit. 

"No, " he said, weakly. 

The man looked at him and saw that he was deathly pale. 

"Not sick, are you?" he asked. "I think I am, " returned Hurstwood. 

"Well, you'd better go sit down, then. "

This he did, but soon grew rapidly worse. It seemed all he could do tocrawl to his room, where he remained for a day. 

"That man Wheeler's sick, " reported one of the lackeys to the nightclerk. 

"What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know. He's got a high fever. "

The hotel physician looked at him. 

"Better send him to Bellevue, " he recommended. "He's got pneumonia. "

Accordingly, he was carted away. 

In three weeks the worst was over, but it was nearly the first of Maybefore his strength permitted him to be turned out. Then he wasdischarged. 

No more weakly looking object ever strolled out into the springsunshine than the once hale, lusty manager. All his corpulence hadfled. 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 misfitpair of trousers. Also some change and advice. He was told to apply tothe charities. 

Again he resorted to the Bowery lodging-house, brooding over where tolook. From this it was but a step to beggary. 

"What can a man do?" he said. "I can't starve. "

His first application was in sunny Second Avenue. A well-dressed mancame leisurely strolling toward him out of Stuyvesant Park. Hurstwoodnerved himself and sidled near. 

"Would you mind giving me ten cents?" he said, directly. "I'm in aposition where I must ask some one. "

The man scarcely looked at him, fished in his vest pocket and took outa dime. 

"There you are, " he said. 

"Much obliged, " said Hurstwood, softly, but the other paid no moreattention to him. 

Satisfied with his success and yet ashamed of his situation, he decidedthat he would only ask for twenty-five cents more, since that would besufficient. He strolled about sizing up people, but it was long beforejust the right face and situation arrived. When he asked, he wasrefused. Shocked by this result, he took an hour to recover and thenasked again. This time a nickel was given him. By the most watchfuleffort he did get twenty cents more, but it was painful. 

The next day he resorted to the same effort, experiencing a variety ofrebuffs and one or two generous receptions. At last it crossed hismind that there was a science of faces, and that a man could pick theliberal countenance if he tried. 

It was no pleasure to him, however, this stopping of passers-by. He sawone man taken up for it and now troubled lest he should be arrested. Nevertheless, he went on, vaguely anticipating that indefinitesomething which is always better. 

It was with a sense of satisfaction, then, that he saw announced onemorning the return of the Casino Company, "with Miss Carrie Madenda. "He had thought of her often enough in days past. How successful shewas--how much money she must have! Even now, however, it took a severerun of ill luck to decide him to appeal to her. He was truly hungrybefore he said:

"I'll ask her. She won't refuse me a few dollars. "

Accordingly, he headed for the Casino one afternoon, passing it severaltimes in an effort to locate the stage entrance. Then he sat in BryantPark, a block away, waiting. "She can't refuse to help me a little, "he kept saying to himself. 

Beginning with half-past six, he hovered like a shadow about theThirty-ninth Street entrance, pretending always to be a hurryingpedestrian and yet fearful lest he should miss his object. He wasslightly nervous, too, now that the eventful hour had arrived; butbeing weak and hungry, his ability to suffer was modified. At last hesaw that the actors were beginning to arrive, and his nervous tensionincreased, until it seemed as if he could not stand much more. 

Once he thought he saw Carrie coming and moved forward, only to seethat he was mistaken. 

"She can't be long, now, " he said to himself, half fearing to encounterher and equally depressed at the thought that she might have gone in byanother way. His stomach was so empty that it ached. 

Individual after individual passed him, nearly all well dressed, almostall indifferent. He saw coaches rolling by, gentlemen passing withladies--the evening's merriment was beginning in this region oftheatres and hotels. 

Suddenly a coach rolled up and the driver jumped down to open the door. Before Hurstwood could act, two ladies flounced across the broad walkand disappeared in the stage door. He thought he saw Carrie, but itwas so unexpected, so elegant and far away, he could hardly tell. Hewaited a while longer, growing feverish with want, and then seeing thatthe stage door no longer opened, and that a merry audience wasarriving, he concluded it must have been Carrie and turned away. 

"Lord, " he said, hastening out of the street into which the morefortunate were pouring, "I've got to get something. "

At that hour, when Broadway is wont to assume its most interestingaspect, a peculiar individual invariably took his stand at the cornerof Twenty-sixth Street and Broadway--a spot which is also intersectedby Fifth Avenue. This was the hour when the theatres were justbeginning to receive their patrons. Fire signs announcing the night'samusements blazed on every hand. Cabs and carriages, their lampsgleaming like yellow eyes, pattered by. Couples and parties of threeand four freely mingled in the common crowd, which poured by in a thickstream, laughing and jesting. On Fifth Avenue were loungers--a fewwealthy strollers, a gentleman in evening dress with his lady on hisarm, some club-men passing from one smoking-room to another. Across theway the great hotels showed a hundred gleaming windows, their cafes andbilliard-rooms filled with a comfortable, well-dressed, and pleasure-loving throng. All about was the night, pulsating with the thoughts ofpleasure and exhilaration--the curious enthusiasm of a great city bentupon finding joy in a thousand different ways. 

This unique individual was no less than an ex-soldier turnedreligionist, who, having suffered the whips and privations of ourpeculiar social system, had concluded that his duty to the God which heconceived lay in aiding his fellow-man. The form of aid which he choseto administer was entirely original with himself. It consisted ofsecuring a bed for all such homeless wayfarers as should apply to himat this particular spot, though he had scarcely the wherewithal toprovide a comfortable habitation for himself. Taking his place amidthis lightsome atmosphere, he would stand, his stocky figure cloaked ina great cape overcoat, his head protected by a broad slouch hat, awaiting the applicants who had in various ways learned the nature ofhis charity. For a while he would stand alone, gazing like any idlerupon an ever fascinating scene. On the evening in question, apoliceman passing saluted him as "captain, " in a friendly way. Anurchin who had frequently seen him before, stopped to gaze. All otherstook 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 ownamusement. 

As the first half-hour waned, certain characters appeared. Here andthere in the passing crowds one might see, now and then, a loitereredging interestedly near. A slouchy figure crossed the opposite cornerand glanced furtively in his direction. Another came down Fifth Avenueto the corner of Twenty-sixth Street, took a general survey, andhobbled off again. Two or three noticeable Bowery types edged alongthe Fifth Avenue side of Madison Square, but did not venture over. Thesoldier, in his cape overcoat, walked a short line of ten feet at hiscorner, to and fro, indifferently whistling. 

As nine o'clock approached, some of the hubbub of the earlier hourpassed. The atmosphere of the hotels was not so youthful. The air, too, was colder. On every hand curious figures were moving--watchersand peepers, without an imaginary circle, which they seemed afraid toenter--a dozen in all. Presently, with the arrival of a keener senseof cold, one figure came forward. It crossed Broadway from out theshadow of Twenty-sixth Street, and, in a halting, circuitous way, arrived close to the waiting figure. There was something shamefaced ordiffident about the movement, as if the intention were to conceal anyidea of stopping until the very last moment. Then suddenly, close tothe soldier, came the halt. 

The captain looked in recognition, but there was no especial greeting. The newcomer nodded slightly and murmured something like one who waitsfor gifts. The other simply motioned to-ward the edge of the walk. 

"Stand over there, " he said. 

By this the spell was broken. Even while the soldier resumed hisshort, solemn walk, other figures shuffled forward. They did not somuch as greet the leader, but joined the one, sniffling and hitchingand scraping their feet. 

"Gold, ain't it?"

"I'm glad winter's over. "

"Looks as though it might rain. "

The motley company had increased to ten. One or two knew each otherand conversed. Others stood off a few feet, not wishing to be in thecrowd and yet not counted out. They were peevish, crusty, silent, eying nothing in particular and moving their feet. 

There would have been talking soon, but the soldier gave them nochance. Counting sufficient to begin, he came forward. 

"Beds, eh, all of you?"

There was a general shuffle and murmur of approval. 

"Well, line up here. I'll see what I can do. I haven't a centmyself. "

They fell into a sort of broken, ragged line. One might see, now, someof the chief characteristics by contrast. There was a wooden leg inthe line. Hats were all drooping, a group that would ill become asecond-hand Hester Street basement collection. Trousers were all warpedand frayed at the bottom and coats worn and faded. In the glare of thestore lights, some of the faces looked dry and chalky; others were redwith blotches and puffed in the cheeks and under the eyes; one or twowere rawboned and reminded one of railroad hands. A few spectatorscame near, drawn by the seemingly conferring group, then more and more, and quickly there was a pushing, gaping crowd. Some one in the linebegan to talk. 

"Silence!" exclaimed the captain. "Now, then, gentlemen, these men arewithout beds. They have to have some place to sleep tonight. Theycan't lie out in the streets. I need twelve cents to put one of themto bed. Who will give it to me?"

No reply. 

"Well, we'll have to wait here, boys, until some one does. Twelve centsisn't so very much for one man. "

"Here's fifteen, " exclaimed a young man, peering forward with strainedeyes. "It's all I can afford. "

"All right. Now I have fifteen. Step out of the line, " and seizingone by the shoulder, the captain marched him off a little way and stoodhim up alone. 

Coming back, he resumed his place and began again. 

"I have three cents left. These men must be put to bed somehow. Thereare"--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 andlook after that myself. Who will give me nine cents?"

One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, handed him a five-cent piece. 

"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 goodbeds. How about these?"

"Here you are, " remarked a bystander, putting a coin into his hand. 

"That, " said the captain, looking at the coin, "pays for two beds fortwo men and gives me five on the next one. Who will give me sevencents more?"

"I will, " said a voice. 

Coming down Sixth Avenue this evening, Hurstwood chanced to cross eastthrough Twenty-sixth Street toward Third Avenue. He was whollydisconsolate in spirit, hungry to what he deemed an almost mortalextent, weary, and defeated. How should he get at Carrie now? It wouldbe eleven before the show was over. If she came in a coach, she wouldgo away in one. He would need to interrupt under most tryingcircumstances. Worst of all, he was hungry and weary, and at best awhole day must intervene, for he had not heart to try again to-night. He had no food and no bed. 

When he neared Broadway, he noticed the captain's gathering ofwanderers, but thinking it to be the result of a street preacher orsome patent medicine fakir, was about to pass on. However, in crossingthe street toward Madison Square Park, he noticed the line of men whosebeds were already secured, stretching out from the main body of thecrowd. In the glare of the neighboring electric light he recognized atype of his own kind--the figures whom he saw about the streets and inthe lodging-houses, drifting in mind and body like himself. Hewondered what it could be and turned back. 

There was the captain curtly pleading as before. He heard withastonishment and a sense of relief the oft-repeated words: "These menmust have a bed. " Before him was the line of unfortunates whose bedswere yet to be had, and seeing a newcomer quietly edge up and take aposition at the end of the line, he decided to do likewise. What useto contend? He was weary to-night. It was a simple way out of onedifficulty, at least. To-morrow, maybe, he would do better. 

Back of him, where some of those were whose beds were safe, a relaxedair was apparent. The strain of uncertainty being removed, he heardthem talking with moderate freedom and some leaning toward sociability. Politics, religion, the state of the government, some newspapersensations, and the more notorious facts the world over, foundmouthpieces and auditors there. Cracked and husky voices pronouncedforcibly upon odd matters. Vague and rambling observations were made inreply. 

There were squints, and leers, and some dull, ox-like stares from thosewho were too dull or too weary to converse. 

Standing tells. Hurstwood became more weary waiting. He thought heshould drop soon and shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Atlast his turn came. The man ahead had been paid for and gone to theblessed line of success. He was now first, and already the captain wastalking for him. 

"Twelve cents, gentlemen--twelve cents puts this man to bed. Hewouldn't stand here in the cold if he had any place to go. "

Hurstwood swallowed something that rose to his throat. Hunger andweakness had made a coward of him. 

"Here you are, " said a stranger, handing money to the captain. 

Now the latter put a kindly hand on the ex-manager's shoulder. "Line upover there, " he said. 

Once there, Hurstwood breathed easier. He felt as if the world werenot quite so bad with such a good man in it. Others seemed to feellike himself about this. 

"Captain's a great feller, ain't he?" said the man ahead--a little, woebegone, helpless-looking sort of individual, who looked as though hehad ever been the sport and care of fortune. 

"Yes, " said Hurstwood, indifferently. 

"Huh! there's a lot back there yet, " said a man farther up, leaning outand looking back at the applicants for whom the captain was pleading. 

"Yes. Must be over a hundred to-night, " said another. 

"Look at the guy in the cab, " observed a third. 

A cab had stopped. Some gentleman in evening dress reached out a billto the captain, who took it with simple thanks and turned away to hisline. There was a general craning of necks as the jewel in the whiteshirt front sparkled and the cab moved off. Even the crowd gaped inawe. 

"That fixes up nine men for the night, " said the captain, counting outas many of the line near him. "Line up over there. Now, then, thereare only seven. I need twelve cents. "

Money came slowly. In the course of time the crowd thinned out to ameager handful. Fifth Avenue, save for an occasional cab or footpassenger, was bare. Broadway was thinly peopled with pedestrians. Only now and then a stranger passing noticed the small group, handedout a coin, and went away, unheeding. 

The captain remained stolid and determined. He talked on, very slowly, uttering the fewest words and with a certain assurance, as though hecould not fail. 

"Come; I can't stay out here all night. These men are getting tiredand cold. Some one give me four cents. "

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 otherline. Then he walked up and down as before, looking at the ground. 

The theatres let out. Fire signs disappeared. A clock struck eleven. Another half-hour and he was down to the last two men. 

"Come, now, " he exclaimed to several curious observers; "eighteen centswill fix us all up for the night. Eighteen cents. I have six. Somebody give me the money. Remember, I have to go over to Brooklynyet to-night. Before that I have to take these men down and put themto bed. Eighteen cents. "

No one responded. He walked to and fro, looking down for severalminutes, occasionally saying softly: "Eighteen cents. " It seemed as ifthis paltry sum would delay the desired culmination longer than all therest had. Hurstwood, buoyed up slightly by the long line of which hewas a part, refrained with an effort from groaning, he was so weak. 

At last a lady in opera cape and rustling skirts came down FifthAvenue, accompanied by her escort. Hurstwood gazed wearily, remindedby her both of Carrie in her new world and of the time when he hadescorted his own wife in like manner. 

While he was gazing, she turned and, looking at the remarkable company, sent her escort over. He came, holding a bill in his fingers, allelegant and graceful. 

"Here you are, " he said. 

"Thanks, " said the captain, turning to the two remaining applicants. "Now we have some for to-morrow night, " he added. 

Therewith he lined up the last two and proceeded to the head, countingas he went. 

"One hundred and thirty-seven, " he announced. "Now, boys, line up. Right dress there. We won't be much longer about this. Steady, now. "

He placed himself at the head and called out "Forward. " Hurstwood movedwith the line. Across Fifth Avenue, through Madison Square by thewinding paths, east on Twenty-third Street, and down Third Avenue woundthe long, serpentine company. Midnight pedestrians and loiterersstopped and stared as the company passed. Chatting policemen, atvarious corners, stared indifferently or nodded to the leader, whomthey had seen before. On Third Avenue they marched, a seemingly wearyway, to Eighth Street, where there was a lodging house, closed, apparently, for the night. They were expected, however. 

Outside in the gloom they stood, while the leader parleyed within. Then doors swung open and they were invited in with a "Steady, now. "

Some one was at the head showing rooms, so that there was no delay forkeys. Toiling up the creaky stairs, Hurstwood looked back and saw thecaptain, watching; the last one of the line being included in his broadsolicitude. Then he gathered his cloak about him and strolled out intothe night. 

"I can't stand much of this, " said Hurstwood, whose legs ached himpainfully, 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. "

Chapter XLVISTIRRING TROUBLED WATERS

Playing in New York one evening on this her return, Carrie was puttingthe finishing touches to her toilet before leaving for the night, whena commotion near the stage door caught her ear. It included a familiarvoice. 

"Never mind, now. I want to see Miss Madenda. "

"You'll have to send in your card. "

"Oh, come off! Here. "

A half-dollar was passed over, and now a knock came at her dressing-room door. Carrie opened it. 

"Well, well!" said Drouet. "I do swear! Why, how are you? I knew thatwas you the moment I saw you. "

Carrie fell back a pace, expecting a most embarrassing conversation. 

"Aren't you going to shake hands with me? Well, you're a dandy! That'sall right, shake hands. "

Carrie put out her hand, smiling, if for nothing more than the man'sexuberant good-nature. Though older, he was but slightly changed. Thesame fine clothes, the same stocky body, the same rosy countenance. 

"That fellow at the door there didn't want to let me in, until I paidhim. I knew it was you, all right. Say, you've got a great show. Youdo your part fine. I knew you would. I just happened to be passing tonight and thought I'd drop in for a few minutes. I saw your name on theprogram, but I didn't remember it until you came on the stage. Then itstruck me all at once. Say, you could have knocked me down with afeather. That's the same name you used out there in Chicago, isn'tit?"

"Yes, " answered Carrie, mildly, overwhelmed by the man's assurance. 

"I knew it was, the moment I saw you. Well, how have you been, anyhow?"

"Oh, very well, " said Carrie, lingering in her dressing-room. She wasrather dazed by the assault. "How have you been?"

"Me? Oh, fine. I'm here now. "

"Is that so?" said Carrie. 

"Yes. I've been here for six months. I've got charge of a branchhere. "

"How nice!"

"Well, when did you go on the stage, anyhow?" inquired Drouet. 

"About three years ago, " said Carrie. 

"You don't say so! Well, sir, this is the first I've heard of it. Iknew you would, though. I always said you could act--didn't I?"

Carrie smiled. 

"Yes, you did, " she said. 

"Well, you do look great, " he said. "I never saw anybody improve so. You're taller, aren't you?"

"Me? Oh, a little, maybe. "

He gazed at her dress, then at her hair, where a becoming hat was setjauntily, then into her eyes, which she took all occasion to avert. Evidently he expected to restore their old friendship at once andwithout modification. 

"Well, " he said, seeing her gather up her purse, handkerchief, and thelike, preparatory to departing, "I want you to come out to dinner withme; won't you? I've got a friend out here. "

"Oh, I can't, " said Carrie. "Not to-night. I have an early engagementto-morrow. "

"Aw, let the engagement go. Come on. I can get rid of him. I want tohave a good talk with you. "

"No, no, " said Carrie; "I can't. You mustn't ask me any more. I don'tcare for a late dinner. "

"Well, come on and have a talk, then, anyhow. "

"Not to-night, " she said, shaking her head. "We'll have a talk someother time. "

As a result of this, she noticed a shade of thought pass over his face, as if he were beginning to realize that things were changed. Good-nature dictated something better than this for one who had always likedher. 

"You come around to the hotel to-morrow, " she said, as sort of penancefor error. "You can take dinner with me. "

"All right, " said Drouet, brightening. "Where are you stopping?"

"At the Waldorf, " she answered, mentioning the fashionable hostelrythen but newly erected. 

"What time?"

"Well, come at three, " said Carrie, pleasantly. 

The next day Drouet called, but it was with no especial delight thatCarrie remembered her appointment. However, seeing him, handsome asever, after his kind, and most genially disposed, her doubts as towhether the dinner would be disagreeable were swept away. He talked asvolubly as ever. 

"They put on a lot of lugs here, don't they?" was his first remark. 

"Yes; they do, " said Carrie. 

Genial egotist that he was, he went at once into a detailed account ofhis own career. 

"I'm going to have a business of my own pretty soon, " he observed inone place. "I can get backing for two hundred thousand dollars. "

Carrie listened most good-naturedly. 

"Say, " he said, suddenly; "where is Hurstwood now?"

Carrie flushed a little. 

"He's here in New York, I guess, " she said. "I haven't seen him forsome time. "

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 imaginednot; but this assurance relieved him. It must be that Carrie had gotrid of him--as well she ought, he thought. "A man always makes amistake when he does anything like that, " he observed. 

"Like what?" said Carrie, unwitting of what was coming. 

"Oh, you know, " and Drouet waved her intelligence, as it were, with hishand. 

"No, I don't, " she answered. "What do you mean?"

"Why that affair in Chicago--the time he left. "

"I don't know what you are talking about, " said Carrie. Could it be hewould refer so rudely to Hurstwood's flight with her?

"Oho!" said Drouet, incredulously. "You knew he took ten thousanddollars with him when he left, didn't you?"

"What!" said Carrie. "You don't mean to say he stole money, do you?"

"Why, " said Drouet, puzzled at her tone, "you knew that, didn't you?"

"Why, no, " said Carrie. "Of course I didn't. "

"Well, that's funny, " said Drouet. "He did, you know. It was in allthe papers. "

"How much did you say he took?" said Carrie. 

"Ten thousand dollars. I heard he sent most of it back afterwards, though. "

Carrie looked vacantly at the richly carpeted floor. A new light wasshining upon all the years since her enforced flight. She rememberednow a hundred things that indicated as much. She also imagined that hetook it on her account. Instead of hatred springing up there was akind of sorrow generated. Poor fellow! What a thing to have hadhanging over his head all the time. 

At dinner Drouet, warmed up by eating and drinking and softened inmood, fancied he was winning Carrie to her old-time good-natured regardfor him. He began to imagine it would not be so difficult to enterinto her life again, high as she was. Ah, what a prize! he thought. How beautiful, how elegant, how famous! In her theatrical and Waldorfsetting, Carrie was to him the all desirable. 

"Do you remember how nervous you were that night at the Avery?" heasked. 

Carrie smiled to think of it. 

"I never saw anybody do better than you did then, Cad, " he addedruefully, as he leaned an elbow on the table; "I thought you and I weregoing to get along fine those days. "

"You mustn't talk that way, " said Carrie, bringing in the least touchof coldness. 

"Won't you let me tell you----"

"No, " she answered, rising. "Besides, it's time I was getting readyfor the theatre. I'll have to leave you. Come, now. "

"Oh, stay a minute, " pleaded Drouet. "You've got plenty of time. "

"No, " said Carrie, gently. 

Reluctantly Drouet gave up the bright table and followed. He saw herto the elevator and, standing there, said:

"When do I see you again?"

"Oh, some time, possibly, " said Carrie. "I'll be here all summer. Good-night!"

The elevator door was open. 

"Good-night!" said Drouet, as she rustled in. 

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 spokeall of her. He thought himself hardly dealt with. Carrie, however, had other thoughts. 

That night it was that she passed Hurstwood, waiting at the Casino, without observing him. 

The next night, walking to the theatre, she encountered him face toface. He was waiting, more gaunt than ever, determined to see her, ifhe had to send in word. At first she did not recognize the shabby, baggy figure. He frightened her, edging so close, a seemingly hungrystranger. 

"Carrie, " he half whispered, "can I have a few words with you?"

She turned and recognized him on the instant. If there ever had lurkedany feeling in her heart against him, it deserted her now. Still, sheremembered what Drouet said about his having stolen the money. 

"Why, George, " she said; "what's the matter with you?"

"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?"

"Of course, " said Carrie, her lip trembling in a strong effort tomaintain her composure. "But what's the matter with you, anyhow?"

She was opening her purse, and now pulled out all the bills in it--afive and two twos. 

"I've been sick, I told you, " he said, peevishly, almost resenting herexcessive pity. It came hard to him to receive it from such a source. 

"Here, " she said. "It's all I have with me. "

"All right, " he answered, softly. "I'll give it back to you some day. "

Carrie looked at him, while pedestrians stared at her. She felt thestrain of publicity. So did Hurstwood. 

"Why don't you tell me what's the matter with you?" she asked, hardlyknowing what to do. "Where are you living?"

"Oh, I've got a room down in the Bowery, " he answered. "There's no usetrying to tell you here. I'm all right now. "

He seemed in a way to resent her kindly inquiries--so much better hadfate dealt with her. 

"Better go on in, " he said. "I'm much obliged, but I won't bother youany more. "

She tried to answer, but he turned away and shuffled off toward theeast. 

For days this apparition was a drag on her soul before it began to wearpartially away. Drouet called again, but now he was not even seen byher. His attentions seemed out of place. 

"I'm out, " was her reply to the boy. 

So peculiar, indeed, was her lonely, self-withdrawing temper, that shewas becoming an interesting figure in the public eye-she was so quietand reserved. 

Not long after the management decided to transfer the show to London. A second summer season did not seem to promise well here. 

"How would you like to try subduing London?" asked her manager, oneafternoon. 

"It might be just the other way, " said Carrie. 

"I think we'll go in June, " he answered. 

In the hurry of departure, Hurstwood was forgotten. Both he and Drouetwere left to discover that she was gone. The latter called once, andexclaimed at the news. Then he stood in the lobby, chewing the ends ofhis moustache. At last he reached a conclusion--the old days had gonefor good. 

"She isn't so much, " he said; but in his heart of hearts he did notbelieve this. 

Hurstwood shifted by curious means through a long summer and fall. Asmall job as janitor of a dance hall helped him for a month. Begging, sometimes going hungry, sometimes sleeping in the park, carried himover more days. Resorting to those peculiar charities, several ofwhich, in the press of hungry search, he accidentally stumbled upon, did the rest. Toward the dead of winter, Carrie came back, appearingon Broadway in a new play; but he was not aware of it. For weeks hewandered about the city, begging, while the fire sign, announcing herengagement, blazed nightly upon the crowded street of amusements. 

Drouet saw it, but did not venture in. 

About this time Ames returned to New York. He had made a littlesuccess in the West, and now opened a laboratory in Wooster Street. Ofcourse, he encountered Carrie through Mrs. Vance; but there was nothingresponsive between them. He thought she was still united to Hurstwood, until otherwise informed. Not knowing the facts then, he did notprofess to understand, and refrained from comment. 

With Mrs. Vance, he saw the new play, and expressed himselfaccordingly. 

"She ought not to be in comedy, " he said. "I think she could do betterthan that. "

One afternoon they met at the Vances' accidentally, and began a veryfriendly conversation. She could hardly tell why the one-time keeninterest in him was no longer with her. Unquestionably, it was becauseat that time he had represented something which she did not have; butthis she did not understand. Success had given her the momentaryfeeling 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 tohim. He thought she could have done better, by far. 

"You didn't go into comedy-drama, after all?" he said, remembering herinterest in that form of art. 

"No, " she answered; "I haven't, so far. "

He looked at her in such a peculiar way that she realized she hadfailed. It moved her to add: "I want to, though. "

"I should think you would, " he said. "You have the sort of dispositionthat would do well in comedy-drama. "

It surprised her that he should speak of disposition. Was she, then, so clearly in his mind?

"Why?" she asked. 

"Well, " he said, "I should judge you were rather sympathetic in yournature. "

Carrie smiled and colored slightly. He was so innocently frank withher that she drew nearer in friendship. The old call of the ideal wassounding. 

"I don't know, " she answered, pleased, nevertheless, beyond allconcealment. 

"I saw your play, " he remarked. "It's very good. "

"I'm glad you liked it. "

"Very good, indeed, " he said, "for a comedy. "

This is all that was said at the time, owing to an interruption, butlater they met again. He was sitting in a corner after dinner, staringat the floor, when Carrie came up with another of the guests. Hardwork had given his face the look of one who is weary. It was not forCarrie to know the thing in it which appealed to her. 

"All alone?" she said. 

"I was listening to the music. "

"I'll be back in a moment, " said her companion, who saw nothing in theinventor. 

Now he looked up in her face, for she was standing a moment, while hesat. 

"Isn't that a pathetic strain?" he inquired, listening. 

"Oh, very, " she returned, also catching it, now that her attention wascalled. 

"Sit down, " he added, offering her the chair beside him. 

They listened a few moments in silence, touched by the same feeling, only hers reached her through the heart. Music still charmed her as inthe old days. 

"I don't know what it is about music, " she started to say, moved by theinexplicable longings which surged within her; "but it always makes mefeel as if I wanted something--I----"

"Yes, " he replied; "I know how you feel. "

Suddenly he turned to considering the peculiarity of her disposition, expressing her feelings so frankly. 

"You ought not to be melancholy, " he said. 

He thought a while, and then went off into a seemingly alienobservation which, however, accorded with their feelings. 

"The world is full of desirable situations, but, unfortunately, we canoccupy but one at a time. It doesn't do us any good to wring our handsover the far-off things. "

The music ceased and he arose, taking a standing position before her, as if to rest himself. 

"Why don't you get into some good, strong comedy-drama?" he said. Hewas looking directly at her now, studying her face. Her large, sympathetic eyes and pain-touched mouth appealed to him as proofs ofhis judgment. 

"Perhaps I shall, " she returned. 

"That's your field, " he added. 

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, " he said; "I do. I don't suppose you're aware of it, but thereis something about your eyes and mouth which fits you for that sort ofwork. "

Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously. For the moment, lonelinessdeserted her. Here was praise which was keen and analytical. 

"It's in your eyes and mouth, " he went on abstractedly. "I rememberthinking, the first time I saw you, that there was something peculiarabout your mouth. I thought you were about to cry. "

"How odd, " said Carrie, warm with delight. This was what her heartcraved. 

"Then I noticed that that was your natural look, and to-night I saw itagain. There's a shadow about your eyes, too, which gives your facemuch this same character. It's in the depth of them, I think. "

Carrie looked straight into his face, wholly aroused. 

"You probably are not aware of it, " he added. 

She looked away, pleased that he should speak thus, longing to be equalto this feeling written upon her countenance. It unlocked the door toa new desire. She had cause to ponder over this until they met again-several weeks or more. It showed her she was drifting away from theold ideal which had filled her in the dressing-rooms of the Avery stageand thereafter, for a long time. Why had she lost it?

"I know why you should be a success, " he said, another time, "if youhad a more dramatic part. I've studied it out----"

"What is it?" said Carrie. 

"Well, " he said, as one pleased with a puzzle, "the expression in yourface is one that comes out in different things. You get the same thingin a pathetic song, or any picture which moves you deeply. It's athing the world likes to see, because it's a natural expression of itslonging. "

Carrie gazed without exactly getting the import of what he meant. 

"The world is always struggling to express itself, " he went on "Mostpeople are not capable of voicing their feelings. They depend uponothers. That is what genius is for. One man expresses their desiresfor them in music; another one in poetry; another one in a play. Sometimes nature does it in a face-it makes the face representative ofall desire. That's what has happened in your case. "

He looked at her with so much of the import of the thing in his eyesthat she caught it. At least, she got the idea that her look wassomething which represented the world's longing. She took it to heartas a creditable thing, until he added:

"That puts a burden of duty on you. It so happens that you have thisthing. It is no credit to you--that is, I mean, you might not have hadit. You paid nothing to get it. But now that you have it, you must dosomething with it. "

"What?" asked Carrie. 

"I should say, turn to the dramatic field. You have so much sympathyand such a melodious voice. Make them valuable to others. It willmake your powers endure. "

Carrie did not understand this last. All the rest showed her that hercomedy success was little or nothing. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. 

"Why, just this. You have this quality in your eyes and mouth and inyour nature. You can lose it, you know. If you turn away from it andlive to satisfy yourself alone, it will go fast enough. The look willleave your eyes. Your mouth will change. Your power to act willdisappear. You may think they won't, but they will. Nature takes careof that. "

He was so interested in forwarding all good causes that he sometimesbecame enthusiastic, giving vent to these preachments. Something inCarrie appealed to him. He wanted to stir her up. 

"I know, " she said, absently, feeling slightly guilty of neglect. 

"If I were you, " he said, "I'd change. "

The effect of this was like roiling helpless waters. Carrie troubledover it in her rocking-chair for days. 

"I don't believe I'll stay in comedy so very much longer, " sheeventually remarked to Lola. 

"Oh, why not?" said the latter. 

"I think, " she said, "I can do better in a serious play. "

"What put that idea in your head?"

"Oh, nothing, " she answered; "I've always thought so. "

Still, she did nothing--grieving. It was a long way to this betterthing--or seemed so--and comfort was about her; hence the inactivityand longing. 

Chapter XLVII

THE WAY OF THE BEATEN--A HARP IN THE WIND

In the city, at that time, there were a number of charities similar innature to that of the captain's, which Hurstwood now patronized in alike unfortunate way. One was a convent mission-house of the Sistersof Mercy in Fifteenth Street--a row of red brick family dwellings, before the door of which hung a plain wooden contribution box, on whichwas painted the statement that every noon a meal was given free to allthose who might apply and ask for aid. This simple announcement wasmodest in the extreme, covering, as it did, a charity so broad. Institutions and charities are so large and so numerous in New Yorkthat such things as this are not often noticed by the more comfortablysituated. But to one whose mind is upon the matter, they growexceedingly under inspection. Unless one were looking up this matterin particular, he could have stood at Sixth Avenue and Fifteenth Streetfor days around the noon hour and never have noticed that out of thevast crowd that surged along that busy thoroughfare there turned out, every few seconds, some weather-beaten, heavy-footed specimen ofhumanity, gaunt in countenance and dilapidated in the matter ofclothes. The fact is none the less true, however, and the colder theday the more apparent it became. Space and a lack of culinary room inthe mission-house, compelled an arrangement which permitted of onlytwenty-five or thirty eating at one time, so that a line had to beformed outside and an orderly entrance effected. This caused a dailyspectacle which, however, had become so common by repetition during anumber of years that now nothing was thought of it. The men waitedpatiently, like cattle, in the coldest weather-waited for several hoursbefore they could be admitted. No questions were asked and no servicerendered. They ate and went away again, some of them returningregularly day after day the winter through. 

A big, motherly looking woman invariably stood guard at the door duringthe entire operation and counted the admissible number. The men movedup in solemn order. There was no haste and no eagerness displayed. Itwas almost a dumb procession. In the bitterest weather this line wasto be found here. Under an icy wind there was a prodigious slapping ofhands and a dancing of feet. Fingers and the features of the facelooked as if severely nipped by the cold. A study of these men inbroad light proved them to be nearly all of a type. They belonged tothe class that sit on the park benches during the endurable days andsleep upon them during the summer nights. They frequent the Bowery andthose down-at-the-heels East Side streets where poor clothes andshrunken features are not singled out as curious. They are the men whoare in the lodging house sitting-rooms during bleak and bitter weatherand who swarm about the cheaper shelters which only open at six in anumber of the lower East Side streets. Miserable food, ill-timed andgreedily eaten, had played havoc with bone and muscle. They were allpale, flabby, sunken-eyed, hollow-chested, with eyes that glinted andshone and lips that were a sickly red by contrast. Their hair was buthalf attended to, their ears anemic in hue, and their shoes broken inleather and run down at heel and toe. They were of the class whichsimply floats and drifts, every wave of people washing up one, asbreakers do driftwood upon a stormy shore. 

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 wouldcome for it to the side door of his restaurant at the corner ofBroadway and Tenth Street, at midnight. Every night during twentyyears about three hundred men had formed in line and at the appointedtime marched past the doorway, picked their loaf from a great boxplaced just outside, and vanished again into the night. From thebeginning to the present time there had been little change in thecharacter or number of these men. There were two or three figures thathad grown familiar to those who had seen this little procession passyear after year. Two of them had missed scarcely a night in fifteenyears. There were about forty, more or less, regular callers. Theremainder of the line was formed of strangers. In times of panic andunusual hardships there were seldom more than three hundred. In timesof prosperity, when little is heard of the unemployed, there wereseldom less. The same number, winter and summer, in storm or calm, ingood times and bad, held this melancholy midnight rendezvous atFleischmann's bread box. 

At both of these two charities, during the severe winter which was nowon, Hurstwood was a frequent visitor. On one occasion it waspeculiarly 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 hadshambled forward out of Sixth Avenue, their thin clothes flapping andfluttering in the wind. They leaned against the iron railing whichprotects the walls of the Ninth Regiment Armory, which fronts upon thatsection of Fifteenth Street, having come early in order to be first in. Having an hour to wait, they at first lingered at a respectfuldistance; but others coming up, they moved closer in order to protecttheir right of precedence. To this collection Hurstwood came up fromthe west out of Seventh Avenue and stopped close to the door, nearerthan all the others. Those who had been waiting before him, butfarther away, now drew near, and by a certain stolidity of demeanor, nowords being spoken, indicated that they were first. 

Seeing the opposition to his action, he looked sullenly along the line, then moved out, taking his place at the foot. When order had beenrestored, the animal feeling of opposition relaxed. 

"Must be pretty near noon, " ventured one. 

"It is, " said another. "I've been waiting nearly an hour. "

"Gee, but it's cold!"

They peered eagerly at the door, where all must enter. A grocery mandrove up and carried in several baskets of eatables. This started somewords upon grocery men and the cost of food in general. 

"I see meat's gone up, " said one. 

"If there wuz war, it would help this country a lot. "

The line was growing rapidly. Already there were fifty or more, andthose at the head, by their demeanor, evidently congratulatedthemselves upon not having so long to wait as those at the foot. Therewas much jerking of heads, and looking down the line. 

"It don't matter how near you get to the front, so long as you're inthe first twenty-five, " commented one of the first twenty-five. "Youall go in together. "

"Humph!" ejaculated Hurstwood, who had been so sturdily displaced. 

"This here Single Tax is the thing, " said another. "There ain't goingto be no order till it comes. "

For the most part there was silence; gaunt men shuffling, glancing, andbeating their arms. 

At last the door opened and the motherly looking sister appeared. Sheonly looked an order. Slowly the line moved up and, one by one, passedin, 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 concerningthe misery of it; some brooded, as did Hurstwood. At last he wasadmitted, and, having eaten, came away, almost angered because of hispains in getting it. 

At eleven o'clock of another evening, perhaps two weeks later, he wasat the midnight offering of a loaf--waiting patiently. It had been anunfortunate day with him, but now he took his fate with a touch ofphilosophy. If he could secure no supper, or was hungry late in theevening, 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 lineat once moved forward each taking his loaf in turn and going hisseparate way. On this occasion, the ex-manager ate his as he wentplodding the dark streets in silence to his bed. 

By January he had about concluded that the game was up with him. Lifehad always seemed a precious thing, but now constant want and weakenedvitality had made the charms of earth rather dull and inconspicuous. Several times, when fortune pressed most harshly, he thought he wouldend his troubles; but with a change of weather, or the arrival of aquarter or a dime, his mood would change, and he would wait. Each dayhe would find some old paper lying about and look into it, to see ifthere was any trace of Carrie, but all summer and fall he had looked invain. Then he noticed that his eyes were beginning to hurt him, andthis ailment rapidly increased until, in the dark chambers of thelodgings he frequented, he did not attempt to read. Bad and irregulareating was weakening every function of his body. The one recourse lefthim was to doze when a place offered and he could get the money tooccupy it. 

He was beginning to find, in his wretched clothing and meager state ofbody, that people took him for a chronic type of bum and beggar. Police hustled him along, restaurant and lodging house keepers turnedhim out promptly the moment he had his due; pedestrians waved him off. He found it more and more difficult to get anything from anybody. 

At last he admitted to himself that the game was up. It was after along series of appeals to pedestrians, in which he had been refused andrefused--every one hastening from contact. 

"Give me a little something, will you, mister?" he said to the lastone. "For God's sake, do; I'm starving. "

"Aw, get out, " said the man, who happened to be a common type himself. "You're no good. I'll give you nawthin'. "

Hurstwood put his hands, red from cold, down in his pockets. Tears cameinto his eyes. 

"That's right, " he said; "I'm no good now. I was all right. I hadmoney. I'm going to quit this, " and, with death in his heart, hestarted down toward the Bowery. People had turned on the gas beforeand died; why shouldn't he? He remembered a lodging house where therewere 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. 

On the way he met a comfortable-looking gentleman, coming, clean-shaven, out of a fine barber shop. 

"Would you mind giving me a little something?" he asked this manboldly. 

The gentleman looked him over and fished for a dime. Nothing butquarters were in his pocket. 

"Here, " he said, handing him one, to be rid of him. "Be off, now. "

Hurstwood moved on, wondering. The sight of the large, bright coinpleased him a little. He remembered that he was hungry and that hecould 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 getnothing but insults that death seemed worth while. 

One day, in the middle of the winter, the sharpest spell of the seasonset in. It broke gray and cold in the first day, and on the secondsnowed. Poor luck pursuing him, he had secured but ten cents bynightfall, and this he had spent for food. At evening he found himselfat the Boulevard and Sixty-seventh Street, where he finally turned hisface Bowery-ward. Especially fatigued because of the wanderingpropensity which had seized him in the morning, he now half dragged hiswet feet, shuffling the soles upon the sidewalk. An old, thin coat wasturned up about his red ears--his cracked derby hat was pulled downuntil it turned them outward. His hands were in his pockets. 

"I'll just go down Broadway, " he said to himself. 

When he reached Forty-second Street, the fire signs were alreadyblazing brightly. Crowds were hastening to dine. Through brightwindows, at every corner, might be seen gay companies in luxuriantrestaurants. There were coaches and crowded cable cars. 

In his weary and hungry state, he should never have come here. Thecontrast was too sharp. Even he was recalled keenly to better things. "What's the use?" he thought. "It's all up with me. I'll quit this. "

People turned to look after him, so uncouth was his shambling figure. Several officers followed him with their eyes, to see that he did notbeg of anybody. 

Once he paused in an aimless, incoherent sort of way and looked throughthe windows of an imposing restaurant, before which blazed a fire sign, and through the large, plate windows of which could be seen the red andgold 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 stoppedstock still, his frayed trousers soaking in the slush, and peeredfoolishly in. 

"Eat, " he mumbled. "That's right, eat. Nobody else wants any. "

Then his voice dropped even lower, and his mind half lost the fancy ithad. 

"It's mighty cold, " he said. "Awful cold. "

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 wasso bright that it attracted Hurstwood's gaze. He looked up, and thenat a large, gilt-framed posterboard, on which was a fine lithograph ofCarrie, life-size. 

Hurstwood gazed at it a moment, snuffling and hunching one shoulder, asif something were scratching him. He was so run down, however, thathis mind was not exactly clear. 

He approached that entrance and went in. 

"Well?" said the attendant, staring at him. Seeing him pause, he wentover and shoved him. "Get out of here, " he said. 

"I want to see Miss Madenda, " he said. 

"You do, eh?" the other said, almost tickled at the spectacle. "Get outof here, " and he shoved him again. Hurstwood had no strength toresist. 

"I want to see Miss Madenda, " he tried to explain, even as he was beinghustled away. "I'm all right. I----"

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 vaguesense of shame returned. He began to cry and swear foolishly. 

"God damned dog!" he said. "Damned old cur, " wiping the slush from hisworthless coat. "I--I hired such people as you once. "

Now a fierce feeling against Carrie welled up--just one fierce, angrythought before the whole thing slipped out of his mind. 

"She owes me something to eat, " he said. "She owes it to me. "

Hopelessly he turned back into Broadway again and slopped onward andaway, begging, crying, losing track of his thoughts, one after another, as a mind decayed and disjointed is wont to do. 

It was truly a wintry evening, a few days later, when his one distinctmental decision was reached. Already, at four o'clock, the somber hueof night was thickening the air. A heavy snow was falling--a finepicking, whipping snow, borne forward by a swift wind in long, thinlines. The streets were bedded with it-six inches of cold, softcarpet, churned to a dirty brown by the crush of teams and the feet ofmen. Along Broadway men picked their way in ulsters and umbrellas. Along the Bowery, men slouched through it with collars and hats pulledover their ears. In the former thoroughfare businessmen and travelerswere making for comfortable hotels. In the latter, crowds on colderrands shifted past dingy stores, in the deep recesses of which lightswere already gleaming. There were early lights in the cable cars, whose usual clatter was reduced by the mantle about the wheels. Thewhole city was muffled by this fast-thickening mantle. 

In her comfortable chambers at the Waldorf, Carrie was reading at thistime "Pere Goriot, " which Ames had recommended to her. It was sostrong, and Ames's mere recommendation had so aroused her interest, that she caught nearly the full sympathetic significance of it. Forthe first time, it was being borne in upon her how silly and worthlesshad been her earlier reading, as a whole. Becoming wearied, however, she yawned and came to the window, looking out upon the old windingprocession of carriages rolling up Fifth Avenue. 

"Isn't it bad?" she observed to Lola. 

"Terrible!" said that little lady, joining her. "I hope it snowsenough to go sleigh riding. "

"Oh, dear, " said Carrie, with whom the sufferings of Father Goriot werestill keen. "That's all you think of. Aren't you sorry for the peoplewho haven't anything to-night?"

"Of course I am, " said Lola; "but what can I do? I haven't anything. "

Carrie smiled. 

"You wouldn't care, if you had, " she returned. 

"I would, too, " said Lola. "But people never gave me anything when Iwas hard up. "

"Isn't it just awful?" said Carrie, studying the winter's storm. 

"Look at that man over there, " laughed Lola, who had caught sight ofsome one falling down. "How sheepish men look when they fall, don'tthey?"

"We'll have to take a coach to-night, " answered Carrie absently. 

In the lobby of the Imperial, Mr. Charles Drouet was just arriving, shaking the snow from a very handsome ulster. Bad weather had drivenhim home early and stirred his desire for those pleasures which shutout the snow and gloom of life. A good dinner, the company of a youngwoman, and an evening at the theatre were the chief things for him. 

"Why, hello, Harry!" he said, addressing a lounger in one of thecomfortable lobby chairs. "How are you?"

"Oh, about six and six, " said the other. "Rotten weather, isn't it?"

"Well, I should say, " said the other. "I've been just sitting herethinking where I'd go to-night. "

"Come along with me, " said Drouet. "I can introduce you to somethingdead swell. "

"Who is it?" said the other. 

"Oh, a couple of girls over here in Fortieth Street. We could have adandy time. I was just looking for you. "

"Supposing you get 'em and take 'em out to dinner?"

"Sure, " said Drouet. "Wait'll I go upstairs and change my clothes. "

"Well, I'll be in the barber shop, " said the other. "I want to get ashave. "

"All right, " said Drouet, creaking off in his good shoes toward theelevator. The old butterfly was as light on the wing as ever. 

On an incoming vestibuled Pullman, speeding at forty miles an hourthrough the snow of the evening, were three others, all related. 

"First call for dinner in the dining-car, " a Pullman servitor wasannouncing, as he hastened through the aisle in snow-white apron andjacket. 

"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 euchrehand away from her. 

"Shall we go into dinner?" inquired her husband, who was all that fineraiment can make. 

"Oh, not yet, " she answered. "I don't want to play any more, though. "

"Jessica, " said her mother, who was also a study in what good clothingcan do for age, "push that pin down in your tie--it's coming up. "

Jessica obeyed, incidentally touching at her lovely hair and looking ata little jewel-faced watch. Her husband studied her, for beauty, evencold, is fascinating from one point of view. 

"Well, we won't have much more of this weather, " he said. "It onlytakes two weeks to get to Rome. "

Mrs. Hurstwood nestled comfortably in her corner and smiled. It was sonice to be the mother-in-law of a rich young man-one whose financialstate had borne her personal inspection. 

"Do you suppose the boat will sail promptly?" asked Jessica, "if itkeeps up like this?"

"Oh, yes, " answered her husband. "This won't make any difference. "

Passing down the aisle came a very fair-haired banker's son, also ofChicago, who had long eyed this supercilious beauty. Even now he didnot hesitate to glance at her, and she was conscious of it. With aspecially conjured show of indifference, she turned her pretty facewholly away. It was not wifely modesty at all. By so much was herpride satisfied. 

 At this moment Hurstwood stood before a dirty four story building in aside street quite near the Bowery, whose one-time coat of buff had beenchanged by soot and rain. He mingled with a crowd of men--a crowdwhich had been, and was still, gathering by degrees. 

It began with the approach of two or three, who hung about the closedwooden doors and beat their feet to keep them warm. They had on fadedderby hats with dents in them. Their misfit coats were heavy withmelted snow and turned up at the collars. Their trousers were merebags, frayed at the bottom and wobbling over big, soppy shoes, torn atthe sides and worn almost to shreds. They made no effort to go in, butshifted ruefully about, digging their hands deep in their pockets andleering at the crowd and the increasing lamps. With the minutes, increased the number. There were old men with grizzled beards andsunken eyes, men who were comparatively young but shrunken by diseases, men who were middle-aged. None were fat. There was a face in thethick of the collection which was as white as drained veal. There wasanother red as brick. Some came with thin, rounded shoulders, otherswith wooden legs, still others with frames so lean that clothes onlyflapped about them. There were great ears, swollen noses, thick lips, and, above all, red, blood-shot eyes. Not a normal, healthy face inthe whole mass; not a straight figure; not a straightforward, steadyglance. 

In the drive of the wind and sleet they pushed in on one another. Therewere 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 onefoot, now another, almost rocking in unison. 

With the growth of the crowd about the door came a murmur. It was notconversation, but a running comment directed at any one in general. Itcontained oaths and slang phrases. 

"By damn, I wish they'd hurry up. "

"Look at the copper watchin'. "

"Maybe it ain't winter, nuther!"

"I wisht I was in Sing Sing. "

Now a sharper lash of wind cut down and they huddled closer. It was anedging, shifting, pushing throng. There was no anger, no pleading, nothreatening words. It was all sullen endurance, unlightened by eitherwit or good fellowship. 

A carriage went jingling by with some reclining figure in it. One ofthe men nearest the door saw it. 

"Look at the bloke ridin'. "

"He ain't so cold. "

"Eh, eh, eh!" yelled another, the carriage having long since passed outof hearing. 

Little by little the night crept on. Along the walk a crowd turned outon its way home. Men and shop-girls went by with quick steps. Thecross-town cars began to be crowded. The gas lamps were blazing, andevery window bloomed ruddy with a steady flame. Still the crowd hungabout the door, unwavering. 

"Ain't they ever goin' to open up?" queried a hoarse voice, suggestively. 

This seemed to renew the general interest in the closed door, and manygazed in that direction. They looked at it as dumb brutes look, asdogs paw and whine and study the knob. They shifted and blinked andmuttered, now a curse, now a comment. Still they waited and still thesnow whirled and cut them with biting flakes. On the old hats andpeaked shoulders it was piling. It gathered in little heaps and curvesand no one brushed it off. In the center of the crowd the warmth andsteam melted it, and water trickled off hat rims and down noses, whichthe owners could not reach to scratch. On the outer rim the pilesremained unmelted. Hurstwood, who could not get in the center, stoodwith head lowered to the weather and bent his form. 

A light appeared through the transom overhead. It sent a thrill ofpossibility 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 jamfor a minute, with grim, beast silence to prove its quality, and thenit melted inward, like logs floating, and disappeared. There were wethats and wet shoulders, a cold, shrunken, disgruntled mass, pouring inbetween bleak walls. It was just six o'clock and there was supper inevery hurrying pedestrian's face. And yet no supper was provided here--nothing but beds. 

Hurstwood laid down his fifteen cents and crept off with weary steps tohis allotted room. It was a dingy affair--wooden, dusty, hard. Asmall gas jet furnished sufficient light for so rueful a corner. 

"Hm!" he said, clearing his throat and locking the door. 

Now he began leisurely to take off his clothes, but stopped first withhis coat, and tucked it along the crack under the door. His vest hearranged in the same place. His old wet, cracked hat he laid softlyupon the table. Then he pulled off his shoes and lay down. 

It seemed as if he thought a while, for now he arose and turned the gasout, standing calmly in the blackness, hidden from view. After a fewmoments, in which he reviewed nothing, but merely hesitated, he turnedthe gas on again, but applied no match. Even then he stood there, hidden wholly in that kindness which is night, while the uprising fumesfilled the room. When the odor reached his nostrils, he quit hisattitude and fumbled for the bed. "What's the use?" he said, weakly, as he stretched himself to rest. 

And now Carrie had attained that which in the beginning seemed life'sobject, or, at least, such fraction of it as human beings ever attainof their original desires. She could look about on her gowns andcarriage, her furniture and bank account. Friends there were, as theworld takes it--those who would bow and smile in acknowledgment of hersuccess. For these she had once craved. Applause there was, andpublicity--once far off, essential things, but now grown trivial andindifferent. Beauty also-her type of loveliness--and yet she waslonely. In her rocking-chair she sat, when not otherwise engaged--singing and dreaming. 

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 ofaction--generals and statesmen; of the other, the poets and dreamers--artists all. 

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. 

Man has not yet comprehended the dreamer any more than he has theideal. For him the laws and morals of the world are unduly severe. Ever hearkening to the sound of beauty, straining for the flash of itsdistant wings, he watches to follow, wearying his feet in traveling. So watched Carrie, so followed, rocking and singing. 

And it must be remembered that reason had little part in this. Chicagodawning, she saw the city offering more of loveliness than she had everknown, and instinctively, by force of her moods alone, clung to it. Infine 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 butincidents. Not them, but that which they represented, she longed for. Time proved the representation false. 

Oh, the tangle of human life! How dimly as yet we see. Here wasCarrie, in the beginning poor, unsophisticated. Emotional; respondingwith desire to everything most lovely in life, yet finding herselfturned as by a wall. Laws to say: "Be allured, if you will, byeverything lovely, but draw not nigh unless by righteousness. "Convention to say: "You shall not better your situation save by honestlabor. " If honest labor be unremunerative and difficult to endure; ifit be the long, long road which never reaches beauty, but wearies thefeet and the heart; if the drag to follow beauty be such that oneabandons the admired way, taking rather the despised path leading toher dreams quickly, who shall cast the first stone? Not evil, butlonging for that which is better, more often directs the steps of theerring. Not evil, but goodness more often allures the feeling mindunused to reason. 

Amid the tinsel and shine of her state walked Carrie, unhappy. As whenDrouet took her, she had thought: "Now I am lifted into that which isbest"; as when Hurstwood seemingly offered her the better way: "Now amI happy. " But since the world goes its way past all who will notpartake of its folly, she now found herself alone. Her purse was opento him whose need was greatest. In her walks on Broadway, she nolonger thought of the elegance of the creatures who passed her. Hadthey more of that peace and beauty which glimmered afar off, then werethey to be envied. 

Drouet abandoned his claim and was seen no more. Of Hurstwood's deathshe was not even aware. A slow, black boat setting out from the pierat Twenty-seventh Street upon its weekly errand bore, with many others, his nameless body to the Potter's Field. 

Thus passed all that was of interest concerning these twain in theirrelation to her. Their influence upon her life is explicable alone bythe nature of her longings. Time was when both represented for her allthat was most potent in earthly success. They were the personalrepresentatives of a state most blessed to attain--the titledambassadors of comfort and peace, aglow with their credentials. It isbut natural that when the world which they represented no longerallured her, its ambassadors should be discredited. Even had Hurstwoodreturned in his original beauty and glory, he could not now haveallured her. She had learned that in his world, as in her own presentstate, was not happiness. 

Sitting alone, she was now an illustration of the devious ways by whichone who feels, rather than reasons, may be led in the pursuit ofbeauty. Though often disillusioned, she was still waiting for thathalcyon day when she would be led forth among dreams become real. Ameshad pointed out a farther step, but on and on beyond that, ifaccomplished, would lie others for her. It was forever to be thepursuit of that radiance of delight which tints the distant hilltops ofthe world. 

Oh, Carrie, Carrie! Oh, blind strivings of the human heart! Onwardonward, it saith, and where beauty leads, there it follows. Whether itbe the tinkle of a lone sheep bell o'er some quiet landscape, or theglimmer of beauty in sylvan places, or the show of soul in some passingeye, the heart knows and makes answer, following. It is when the feetweary and hope seems vain that the heartaches and the longings arise. Know, then, that for you is neither surfeit nor content. In yourrocking chair, by your window dreaming, shall you long, alone. In yourrocking chair, by your window, shall you dream such happiness as youmay never feel.