The Essential Works of Theodore Dreiser. Theodore Dreiser

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      Chapter XXIX

      The Solace of Travel — The Boats of the Sea

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      To the untravelled, territory other than their own familiar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love, it is the one thing which solaces and delights. Things new are too important to be neglected, and mind, which is a mere reflection of sensory impressions, succumbs to the flood of objects. Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows laid aside, death hidden from view. There is a world of accumulated feeling back of the trite dramatic expression — “I am going away.”

      As Carrie looked out upon the flying scenery she almost forgot that she had been tricked into this long journey against her will and that she was without the necessary apparel for travelling. She quite forgot Hurstwood’s presence at times, and looked away to homely farmhouses and cosey cottages in villages with wondering eyes. It was an interesting world to her. Her life had just begun. She did not feel herself defeated at all. Neither was she blasted in hope. The great city held much. Possibly she would come out of bondage into freedom — who knows? Perhaps she would be happy. These thoughts raised her above the level of erring. She was saved in that she was hopeful.

      The following morning the train pulled safely into Montreal and they stepped down, Hurstwood glad to be out of danger, Carrie wondering at the novel atmosphere of the northern city. Long before, Hurstwood had been here, and now he remembered the name of the hotel at which he had stopped. As they came out of the main entrance of the depot he heard it 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 the clerk came forward. He was thinking what name he would put down. With the latter before him he found no time for hesitation. A name he had seen out of the car window came swiftly to him. It was pleasing enough. With an easy hand he wrote, “G. W. Murdock and wife.” It was the largest concession to necessity he felt like making. His initials he could not spare.

      When they were shown their room Carrie saw at once that he had secured her a lovely chamber.

      “You have a bath there,” said he. “Now you can clean up when you get ready.”

      Carrie went over and looked out the window, while Hurstwood looked at himself in the glass. He felt dusty and unclean. He had no trunk, no change 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 a shave and come back and get you, and then we’ll go out and look for some 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 for the 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 his hands, 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 of her hands, which she endeavoured 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 cleanly home.

      “Oh, well, Carrie,” he answered, “here I am. It’s too late now. Won’t you 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 today on.”

      Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. Now he slipped his arm about her and she struggled, but in vain. He held her quite close. Instantly there flamed up in his body the all compelling desire. 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 before she had been listening with some complacency, remembering her old affection for him. He was so handsome, so daring!

      Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of opposition, which rose feebly. 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 bosom she was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, and she was alone. If she did not turn to him — accept of his love — where else might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of his strong feeling.

      She found him lifting her head and looking into her eyes. What magnetism there was she could never know. His many sins, however, were for the moment all forgotten.

      He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt that further opposition 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 her regretfully.

      “You get ready now, will you,” he said, “at once?”

      “Yes,” she answered.

      “I’ll be back in three-quarters of an hour.”

      Carrie, СКАЧАТЬ