WITH EYES AND NOT SEEING--ONE INFLUENCE WANES
Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, physically and mentally.She was deeply rejoicing in her affection for Hurstwood and his love, and looked forward with fine fancy to their next meeting Sunday night.They had agreed, without any feeling of enforced secrecy, that she should come down town and meet him, though, after all, 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 when her 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 on this score.The housemaid who had welcomed Hurstwood had her opinion also.She had no particular regard for Carrie, whom she took to be cold and disagreeable.At the same time, she had a fancy for the merry and 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 had for all members of the sex.Hurstwood was more reserved and critical in his manner.He did not appeal to this bodiced functionary in the same pleasant way.She wondered that he came so frequently, that Mrs.Drouet should go out with him this afternoon when Mr.Drouet was absent.
She gave vent to her opinions in the kitchen where the cook was.
As a result, a hum of gossip was set going which moved about the house in that secret manner common to gossip.
Carrie, now that she had yielded sufficiently to Hurstwood to confess her affection, no longer troubled about her attitude towards him.Temporarily she gave little thought to Drouet, thinking only of the dignity 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 the afternoon.It was the first time her sympathies had ever been thoroughly aroused, and they threw a new light on her character.She had some power of initiative, latent before, which now began to exert itself.She looked more practically upon her state and began to see glimmerings of a way out.Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction of honour.Her feelings were exceedingly creditable, in that they constructed out of these recent developments something which conquered freedom from dishonour.She had no idea what Hurstwood's next word would be.She only took his affection to be a fine thing, and appended better, more generous results accordingly.
As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure without responsibility.He did not feel that he was doing anything to complicate his life.His position was secure, his home-life, if not satisfactory, was at least undisturbed, his personal liberty rather untrammelled.Carrie's love represented only so much added pleasure.He would enjoy this new gift over and above his ordinary allowance of pleasure.He would be happy with her and his own affairs would go on as they had, undisturbed.
On Sunday evening Carrie dined with him at a place he had selected in East Adams Street, and thereafter they took a cab to what was then a pleasant evening resort out on Cottage Grove Avenue near 39th Street.In the process of his declaration he soon realised that Carrie took his love upon a higher basis than he had anticipated.She kept him at a distance in a rather earnest way, and submitted only to those tender tokens of affection which better become the inexperienced lover.Hurstwood saw that she was not to be possessed for the asking, and deferred pressing his suit too warmly.
Since he feigned to believe in her married state he found that he had to carry out the part.His triumph, he saw, was still at a little distance.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 this West 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, Drouet returned.Hurstwood was sitting in his imposing little office the next afternoon 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 had happened.
"Been home yet?" finally asked Hurstwood.
"No, I am going, though," said Drouet.
"I remembered the little girl out there," said Hurstwood, "and called once.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'd better 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 and let you know."
They separated in the most cordial manner.
"There's a nice fellow," Drouet thought to himself as he turned the corner towards Madison.
"Drouet is a good fellow," Hurstwood thought to himself as he went back into 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 as usual, but she responded to his kiss with a tremour of opposition.
"Well," he said, "I had a great trip."
"Did you? How did you come out with that La Crosse man you were telling me about?"
