|
And it was distressing.
He soon found that freedom from fear of arrest was not the sine qua
non of his existence. That danger dissolved, the next necessity became the grievous
thing. The paltry sum of
thirteen hundred and some odd dollars set against the need of rent,
clothing, food, and pleasure for years to come was a spectacle little
calculated to induce peace of mind in one who had been accustomed to spend
five times that sum in the course of a year.
He thought upon the subject rather actively the first few days he was
in New York, and decided that he must act quickly.
As a consequence, he consulted the business opportunities advertised
in the morning papers and began investigations on his own account.
That was not before he had become
settled, however. Carrie and he
went looking for a flat, as arranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Street
near Amsterdam Avenue. It was a
five-story building, and their flat was on the third floor.
Owing to the fact that the street was not yet built up solidly, it
was possible to see east to the green tops of the trees in Central Park and
west to the broad waters of the Hudson, a glimpse of which was to be had out
of the west windows. For the
privilege of six rooms and a bath, running in a straight line, they were
compelled to pay thirty-five dollars a month--an average, and yet
exorbitant, rent for a home at the time.
Carrie noticed the difference between the size of the rooms here and
in Chicago and mentioned it.
"You'll not find anything
better, dear," said Hurstwood, "unless you go into one of the
old-fashioned houses, and then you won't have any of these
conveniences."
Carrie picked out the new abode
because of its newness and bright wood-work.
It was one of the very new ones supplied with steam heat, which was a
great advantage. The stationary
range, hot and cold water, dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for
the janitor pleased her very much. She
had enough of the instincts of a housewife to take great satisfaction in
these things.
Hurstwood made arrangements with
one of the instalment houses whereby they furnished the flat complete and
accepted fifty dollars down and ten dollars a month.
He then had a little plate, bearing the name G. W. Wheeler, made,
which he placed on his letter-box in the hall.
It sounded exceedingly odd to Carrie to be called Mrs. Wheeler by the
janitor, but in time she became used to it and looked upon the name as her
own.
These house details settled,
Hurstwood visited some of the advertised opportunities to purchase an
interest in some flourishing down-town bar.
After the palatial resort in Adams Street, he could not stomach the
commonplace saloons which he found advertised.
He lost a number of days looking up these and finding them
disagreeable. He did, however,
gain considerable knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influence of
Tammany Hall and the value of standing in with the police.
The most profitable and flourishing places he found to be those which
conducted anything but a legitimate business, such as that controlled by
Fitzgerald and Moy. Elegant
back rooms and private drinking booths on the second floor were usually
adjuncts of very profitable places. He
saw by portly keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, and
whose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor business here, as
elsewhere, yielded the same golden profit. At last he found an individual
who had a resort in Warren Street, which seemed an excellent venture.
It was fairly well-appearing and susceptible of improvement.
The owner claimed the business to be excellent, and it certainly
looked so.
"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 for a 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 other is down in Nassau Street.
I can't tend to them both alone.
If I had some one who knew the business thoroughly I wouldn't mind
sharing with him in this one and letting him manage it."
"I've had experience
enough," said Hurstwood blandly, but he felt a little 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 the part of the one who should come in.
There was no property involved, because the owner of the saloon merely
rented from an estate.
The offer was genuine enough, but
it was a question with Hurstwood whether a third interest in that locality
could be made to yield one hundred and fifty dollars a month, which he
figured he must have in order to meet the ordinary family expenses and be
comfortable. It was not the
time, however, after many failures to find what he wanted, to hesitate.
It looked as though a third would pay a hundred a month now.
By judicious management and improvement, it might be made to pay
more. Accordingly he agreed to
enter into partnership, and made over his thousand dollars, preparing to
enter the next day.
His first inclination was to be
elated, and he confided to Carrie that he thought he had made an excellent
arrangement. Time, however,
introduced food for reflection. He
found his partner to be very disagreeable.
Frequently he was the worse for liquor, which made him surly.
This was the last thing which Hurstwood was used to in business.
Besides, the business varied. It
was nothing like the class of patronage which he had enjoyed in Chicago.
He found that it would take a long time to make friends.
These people hurried in and out without seeking the pleasures of
friendship. It was no gathering or lounging place. Whole days and weeks
passed without one such hearty greeting as he had been wont to enjoy every
day in Chicago.
For another thing, Hurstwood
missed the celebrities--those well- dressed, elite individuals who lend
grace to the average bars and bring news from far-off and exclusive circles.
He did not see one such in a month.
Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally read in the
evening papers incidents concerning celebrities whom he knew--whom he had
drunk a glass with many a time. They would visit a bar like Fitzgerald and Moy's in Chicago,
or the Hoffman House, uptown, but he knew that he would never see them down
here. Again, the business did not pay as well as he thought.
It increased a little, but he found he would have to watch his
household expenses, which was humiliating.
In the very beginning it was a
delight to go home late at night, as he did, and find Carrie. He managed to run up and take dinner with her between six and
seven, and to remain home until nine o'clock in the morning, but the novelty
of this waned after a time, and he began to feel the drag of his duties.
The first month had scarcely
passed before Carrie said in a very natural way: "I think I'll go down
this week and buy a dress.'
"What kind?" said
Hurstwood.
"Oh, something for street
wear."
"All right," he
answered, smiling, although he noted mentally that it would be more
agreeable to his finances if she didn't. Nothing was said about it the next
day, but the following morning he asked:
"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. She had never thought of him in
connection with money troubles before.
"Why?"
"Well, I'll tell you,"
said Hurstwood. "This
investment of mine is taking a lot of money just now.
I expect to get it all back shortly, but just at present I am running
close."
"Oh!" answered Carrie.
"Why, certainly, dear. Why
didn't you tell me before?"
"It wasn't necessary,"
said Hurstwood.
For all her acquiescence, there
was something about the way Hurstwood spoke which reminded Carrie of Drouet
and his little deal which he was always about to put through. It was only the thought of a second, but it was a beginning.
It was something new in her thinking of Hurstwood.
Other things followed from time
to time, little things of the same sort, which in their cumulative effect
were eventually equal to a full revelation.
Carrie was not dull by any means.
Two persons cannot long dwell together without coming to an
understanding of one another. The
mental difficulties of an individual reveal themselves whether he
voluntarily confesses them or not. Trouble
gets in the air and contributes gloom, which speaks for itself.
Hurstwood dressed as nicely as usual, but they were the same clothes
he had in Canada. Carrie
noticed that he did not install a large wardrobe, though his own was
anything but large. She
noticed, also, that he did not suggest many amusements, said nothing about
the food, seemed concerned about his business.
This was not the easy Hurstwood of Chicago-- not the liberal, opulent
Hurstwood she had known. The
change was too obvious to escape detection.
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.
|
Table of Contents
