Sister Carrie: A Novel
sort, which in their cumulative effect were eventually equal to a full
revelation. Carrie was not dull by any means. Two persons cannot long
dwell together without coming to an understanding of one another. The
mental difficulties of an individual reveal themselves whether he
voluntarily confesses them or not. Trouble gets in the air and
contributes gloom, which speaks for itself. Hurstwood dressed as nicely
as usual, but they were the same clothes he had in Canada. Carrie
noticed that he did not install a large wardrobe, though his own was
anything but large. She noticed, also, that he did not suggest many
amusements, said nothing about the food, seemed concerned about his
business. This was not the easy Hurstwood of Chicago—not the liberal,
opulent Hurstwood she had known. The change was too obvious to escape
detection.
In time she began to feel that a change had come about, and that she
was not in his confidence. He was evidently secretive and kept his own
counsel. She found herself asking him questions about little things.
This is a disagreeable state to a woman. Great love makes it seem
reasonable, sometimes plausible, but never satisfactory. Where great
love is not, a more definite and less satisfactory conclusion is
reached.
As for Hurstwood, he was making a great fight against the difficulties
of a changed condition. He was too shrewd not to realise the tremendous
mistake he had made, and appreciate that he had done well in getting
where he was, and yet he could not help contrasting his present state
with his former, hour after hour, and day after day.
Besides, he had the disagreeable fear of meeting old-time friends, ever
since one such encounter which he made shortly after his arrival in the
city. It was in Broadway that he saw a man approaching him whom he
knew. There was no time for simulating non-recognition. The exchange of
glances had been too sharp, the knowledge of each other too apparent.
So the friend, a buyer for one of the Chicago wholesale houses, felt,
perforce, the necessity of stopping.
“How are you?” he said, extending his hand with an evident mixture of
feeling and a lack of plausible interest.
“Very well,” said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed. “How is it with you?”
“All right; I’m down here doing a little buying. Are you located here
now?”
“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 and see
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 think
of coming.” He wiped his forehead, which had grown damp, and hoped
sincerely he would meet no one else.
These things told upon his good-nature, such as it was. His one hope
was that things would change for the better in a money way.
He had Carrie. His furniture was being paid for. He was maintaining his
position. As for Carrie, the amusements he could give her would have to
do for the present. He could probably keep up his pretensions
sufficiently long without exposure to make good, and then all would be
well. He failed therein to take account of the frailties of human
nature—the difficulties of matrimonial life. Carrie was young. With him
and with her varying mental states were common. At any moment the
extremes of feeling might be anti-polarised at the dinner table. This
often happens in the best regulated families. Little things brought out
on such occasions need great love to obliterate them afterward. Where
that is not, both parties count two and two and make a problem after a
while.
Chapter XXXI. A PET OF GOOD FORTUNE: BROADWAY FLAUNTS ITS JOYS
The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurstwood was
paralleled in the case of Carrie, who accepted the things which fortune
provided with the most genial good-nature. New York, despite her first
expression of disapproval, soon interested her exceedingly. Its clear
atmosphere, more populous thoroughfares, and peculiar indifference
struck her forcibly. She had never seen such a little flat as hers, and
yet it soon enlisted her affection. The new furniture made an excellent
showing, the sideboard which Hurstwood himself arranged gleamed
brightly. The furniture for each room was appropriate, and in the
so-called parlour, or front room, was installed a piano, because Carrie
said she would like to learn to play. She kept a servant and developed
rapidly in household tactics and information. For the first time in her
life she felt settled, and somewhat justified in the eyes of society as
she conceived of it. Her thoughts were merry and innocent enough. For a
long while she concerned herself over the arrangement of New York
flats, and wondered at ten families living in one building and all
remaining strange and indifferent to each other. She also marvelled at
the whistles of the hundreds of vessels in the harbour—the long, low
cries of the Sound steamers and ferry-boats when fog was on. The mere
fact that these things spoke from the sea made them wonderful. She
looked much at what she could see of the Hudson from her west windows
and of the great city building up rapidly on either hand. It was much
to ponder over, and sufficed to entertain her for more than a year
without becoming stale.
For another thing, Hurstwood was exceedingly interesting in his
affection for her. Troubled as he was, he never exposed his
difficulties to her. He carried himself with the same self-important
air, took his new state with easy familiarity, and rejoiced in Carrie’s
proclivities and successes. Each evening he arrived promptly to dinner,
and found the little dining-room a most inviting spectacle. In a way,
the smallness of the room added to its luxury. It looked full and
replete. The white-covered table was arrayed with pretty dishes and
lighted with a four-armed candelabra, each light of which was topped
with a red shade. Between Carrie and the girl the steaks and chops came
out all right, and canned goods did the rest for a while. Carrie
studied the art of making biscuit, and soon reached the stage where she
could show a plate of light, palatable morsels for her labour.
In this manner the second, third, and fourth months passed. Winter
came, and with it a feeling that indoors was best, so that the
attending of theatres was not much talked of. Hurstwood made great
efforts to meet all expenditures without a show of feeling one way or
the other. He pretended that he was reinvesting his money in
strengthening the business for greater ends in the future. He contented
himself with a very moderate allowance of personal apparel, and rarely
suggested anything for Carrie. Thus the first winter passed.
In the second year, the business which Hurstwood managed did increase
somewhat. He got out of it regularly the $150 per month which he had
anticipated. Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certain
conclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaintances.
Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active and aggressive
nature, Carrie accepted the situation. Her state seemed satisfactory
enough. Once in a while they would go to a theatre together,
occasionally in season to the beaches and different points about the
city, but they picked up no acquaintances. Hurstwood naturally
abandoned his show of fine manners with her and modified his attitude
to one of easy familiarity. There were no misunderstandings, no
apparent differences of opinion. In fact, without money or visiting
friends, he led a life which could neither arouse jealousy nor comment.
Carrie rather sympathised with his efforts and thought nothing upon her
lack of entertainment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago. New York as a
corporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed sufficient.
However, as Hurstwood’s business increased, he, as stated, began to
pick up acquaintances. He also began to allow himself more clothes. He
convinced himself that his home life was very precious to him, but
allowed that he could occasionally stay away from dinner. The first
time he did this he sent a message saying that he would be detained.
Carrie ate alone, and wished that it might not happen again. The second
time, also, he sent word, but at the last moment. The third time he
forgot entirely and explained afterwards. These events were months
apart, each.
“Where were you, George?” asked Carrie, after the first absence.
“Tied up at the office,” he said genially. “There were some accounts I
had to straighten.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t get home,” she said kindly. “I was fixing to
have such a nice dinner.”
The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the third time the
feeling about it in Carrie’s mind was a little bit out of the ordinary.
“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 late
to do any good.”
“And I had such a good dinner!” said Carrie.
Now, it so happened that from his observations of Carrie he began to
imagine that she was of the thoroughly domestic type of mind. He really
thought, after a year, that her chief expression in life was finding
its natural channel in household duties. Notwithstanding the fact that
he had observed her act in Chicago, and that during the past year he
had only seen her limited in her relations to her flat and him by
conditions which he made, and that she had not gained any friends or
associates, he drew this peculiar conclusion. With it came a feeling of
satisfaction in having a wife who could thus be content, and this
satisfaction worked its natural result. That is, since he imagined he
saw her satisfied, he felt called upon to give only that which
contributed to such satisfaction. He supplied the furniture, the
decorations, the food, and the necessary clothing. Thoughts of
entertaining her, leading her out into the shine and show of life, grew
less and less. He felt attracted to the outer world, but did not think
she would care to go along. Once he went to the theatre alone. Another
time he joined a couple of his new friends at an evening game of poker.
Since his money-feathers were beginning to grow again he felt like
sprucing about. All this, however, in a much less imposing way than had
been his wont in Chicago. He avoided the gay places where he would be
apt to meet those who had known him. Now, Carrie began to feel this in
various sensory ways. She was not the kind to be seriously disturbed by
his actions. Not loving him greatly, she could not be jealous in a
disturbing way. In fact, she was not jealous at all. Hurstwood was
pleased with her placid manner, when he should have duly considered it.
When he did not come home it did not seem anything like a terrible
thing to her. She gave him credit for having the usual allurements of
men—people to talk to, places to stop, friends to consult with. She was
perfectly willing that he should enjoy himself in his way, but she did
not care to be neglected herself. Her state still seemed fairly
reasonable, however. All she did observe was that Hurstwood was
somewhat different.
Some time in the second year of their residence in Seventy-eighth
Street the flat across the hall from Carrie became vacant, and into it
moved a very handsome young woman and her husband, with both of whom
Carrie afterwards became acquainted. This was brought about solely by
the arrangement of the flats, which were united in one place, as it
were, by the dumb-waiter. This useful elevator, by which fuel,
groceries, and the like were sent up from the basement, and garbage and
waste sent down, was used by both residents of one floor; that is, a
small door opened into it from each flat.