Chapter XXV

by Theodore Dreiser

　　ASHES OF TINDER--THE LOOSING OF STAYSWhen Hurstwood got back to his office again he was in a greaterquandary than ever. Lord, Lord, he thought, what had he gotinto? How could things have taken such a violent turn, and soquickly? He could hardly realise how it had all come about. Itseemed a monstrous, unnatural, unwarranted condition which hadsuddenly descended upon him without his let or hindrance.Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. What couldbe the trouble in that quarter? No letter had come, no word ofany kind, and yet here it was late in the evening and she hadagreed to meet him that morning. To-morrow they were to have metand gone off--where? He saw that in the excitement of recentevents he had not formulated a plan upon that score. He wasdesperately in love, and would have taken great chances to winher under ordinary circumstances, but now--now what? Supposingshe had found out something? Supposing she, too, wrote him andtold him that she knew all--that she would have nothing more todo with him? It would be just like this to happen as things weregoing now. Meanwhile he had not sent the money.He strolled up and down the polished floor of the resort, hishands in his pockets, his brow wrinkled, his mouth set. He wasgetting some vague comfort out of a good cigar, but it was nopanacea for the ill which affected him. Every once in a while hewould clinch his fingers and tap his foot--signs of the stirringmental process he was undergoing. His whole nature wasvigorously and powerfully shaken up, and he was finding whatlimits the mind has to endurance. He drank more brandy and sodathan he had any evening in months. He was altogether a fineexample of great mental perturbation.For all his study nothing came of the evening except this--hesent the money. It was with great opposition, after two or threehours of the most urgent mental affirmation and denial, that atlast he got an envelope, placed in it the requested amount, andslowly 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 theenvelope, "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 theboy turned to go."Oh, yes, sir. I know her.""All right, now. Hurry right back.""Any answer?""I guess not."The boy hastened away and the manager fell to his musings. Nowhe had done it. There was no use speculating over that. He wasbeaten for to-night and he might just as well make the best ofit. But, oh, the wretchedness of being forced this way! He couldsee her meeting the boy at the door and smiling sardonically.She would take the envelope and know that she had triumphed. Ifhe only had that letter back he wouldn't send it. He breathedheavily and wiped the moisture from his face.For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with a fewfriends who were drinking. He tried to get the interest ofthings about him, but it was not to be. All the time histhoughts would run out to his home and see the scene beingtherein enacted. All the time he was wondering what she wouldsay when the boy handed her the envelope.In about an hour and three-quarters the boy returned. He hadevidently delivered the package, for, as he came up, he made nosign of taking anything out of his pocket."Well?" said Hurstwood."I gave it to her.""My wife?""Yes, sir.""Any answer?""She said it was high time."Hurstwood scowled fiercely.There was no more to be done upon that score that night. He wenton brooding over his situation until midnight, when he repairedagain to the Palmer House. He wondered what the morning wouldbring forth, and slept anything but soundly upon it.Next day he went again to the office and opened his mail,suspicious and hopeful of its contents. No word from Carrie.Nothing from his wife, which was pleasant.The fact that he had sent the money and that she had received itworked to the ease of his mind, for, as the thought that he haddone it receded, his chagrin at it grew less and his hope ofpeace more. He fancied, as he sat at his desk, that nothingwould be done for a week or two. Meanwhile, he would have timeto think.This process of THINKING began by a reversion to Carrie and thearrangement by which he was to get her away from Drouet. Howabout that now? His pain at her failure to meet or write himrapidly increased as he devoted himself to this subject. Hedecided to write her care of the West Side Post-office and askfor an explanation, as well as to have her meet him. The thoughtthat this letter would probably not reach her until Monday chafedhim exceedingly. He must get some speedier method--but how?He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating a messengeror a cab direct to the house, owing to the exposure of it, butfinding that time was slipping away to no purpose, he wrote theletter and then began to think again.The hours slipped by, and with them the possibility of the unionhe had contemplated. He had thought to be joyously aiding Carrieby now in the task of joining her interests to his, and here itwas afternoon and nothing done. Three o'clock came, four, five,six, and no letter. The helpless manager paced the floor andgrimly endured the gloom of defeat. He saw a busy Saturdayushered out, the Sabbath in, and nothing done. All day, the barbeing closed, he brooded alone, shut out from home, from theexcitement of his resort, from Carrie, and without the ability toalter his condition one iota. It was the worst Sunday he hadspent in his life.In Monday's second mail he encountered a very legal-lookingletter, which held his interest for some time. It bore theimprint of the law offices of McGregor, James and Hay, and with avery formal "Dear Sir," and "We beg to state," went on to informhim briefly that they had been retained by Mrs. Julia Hurstwoodto adjust certain matters which related to her sustenance andproperty rights, and would he kindly call and see them about thematter at once.He read it through carefully several times, and then merely shookhis head. It seemed as if his family troubles were justbeginning."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 neededher most. He thought he would go out and insist on seeing her ifshe did not send him word of some sort soon. He was reallyaffected most miserably of all by this desertion. He had lovedher earnestly enough, but now that the possibility of losing herstared him in the face she seemed much more attractive. Hereally pined for a word, and looked out upon her with his mind'seye in the most wistful manner. He did not propose to lose her,whatever she might think. Come what might, he would adjust thismatter, and soon. He would go to her and tell her all his familycomplications. He would explain to her just where he stood andhow much he needed her. Surely she couldn't go back on him now?It wasn't possible. He would plead until her anger would melt--until she would forgive him.Suddenly he thought: "Supposing she isn't out there--suppose shehas gone?"He was forced to take his feet. It was too much to think of andsit still.Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing.On Tuesday it was the same way. He did manage to bring himselfinto the mood to go out to Carrie, but when he got in Ogden Placehe thought he saw a man watching him and went away. He did notgo within a block of the house.One of the galling incidents of this visit was that he came backon a Randolph Street car, and without noticing arrived almostopposite the building of the concern with which his son wasconnected. This sent a pang through his heart. He had called onhis boy there several times. Now the lad had not sent him aword. His absence did not seem to be noticed by either of hischildren. Well, well, fortune plays a man queer tricks. He gotback to his office and joined in a conversation with friends. Itwas as if idle chatter deadened the sense of misery.That night he dined at Rector's and returned at once to hisoffice. In the bustle and show of the latter was his onlyrelief. He troubled over many little details and talkedperfunctorily to everybody. He stayed at his desk long after allothers had gone, and only quitted it when the night watchman onhis round pulled at the front door to see if it was safelylocked.On Wednesday he received another polite note from McGregor, Jamesand Hay. It read:"Dear Sir: We beg to inform you that we are instructed to waituntil to-morrow (Thursday) at one o'clock, before filing suitagainst you, on behalf of Mrs. Julia Hurstwood, for divorce andalimony. If we do not hear from you before that time we shallconsider that you do not wish to compromise the matter in any wayand act accordingly. "Very truly yours, etc.""Compromise!" exclaimed Hurstwood bitterly. "Compromise!"Again he shook his head.So here it was spread out clear before him, and now he knew whatto expect. If he didn't go and see them they would sue himpromptly. If he did, he would be offered terms that would makehis blood boil. He folded the letter and put it with the otherone. Then he put on his hat and went for a turn about the block.