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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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There had been something so personal, so subtle, in each meeting between them, both when Drouet was present and when he was absent, that Carrie could not speak of it without feeling a sense of difficulty. She was no talker. She could never arrange her thoughts in fluent order. It was always a matter of feeling with her, strong and deep. Each time there had been no sentence of importance which she could relate, and as for the glances and sensations, what woman would reveal them? Such things had never been between her and Drouet. As a matter of fact, they could never be. She had been dominated by distress and the enthusiastic forces of relief which Drouet represented at an opportune moment when she yielded to him. Now she was persuaded by secret current feelings which Drouet had never understood. Hurstwood’s glance was as effective as the spoken words of a lover, and more. They called for no immediate decision, and could not be answered. People in general attach too much importance to words. They are under the illusion that talking effects great results. As a matter of fact, words are, as a rule, the shallowest portion of all the argument. They but dimly represent the great surging feelings and desires which lie behind. When the distraction of the tongue is removed, the heart listens. In this conversation she heard, instead of his words, the voices of the things which he represented. How suave was the counsel of his appearance! How feel-ingly did his superior state speak for itself! The growing desire he felt for her lay upon her spirit as a gentle hand. She did not need to tremble at all, because it was invisible; she did not need to worry over what other people would say-what she herself would say-because it had no tangibility. She was being pleaded with, persuaded, led into denying old rights and assuming new ones, and yet there were no words to prove it. Such conversation as was indulged in held the same relation-ship to the actual mental enactments of the twain that the low music of the orchestra does to the dramatic incident which it is used to cover. "Have you ever seen the houses along the Lake Shore on the North Side?" asked Hurstwood. "Why, I was just over there this afternoon-Mrs. Hale and I. Aren’t they beautiful?" "They’re very fine," he answered. "Oh, me," said Carrie, pensively. "I wish I could live in such a place." "You’re not happy," said Hurstwood, slowly, after a slight pause. He had raised his eyes solemnly and was looking into her own. He assumed that he had struck a deep chord. Now was a slight chance to say a word in his own behalf. He leaned over quietly and continued his steady gaze. He felt the critical character of the period. She endeavoured to stir, but it was useless. The whole strength of a man’s nature was working. He had good cause to urge him on. He looked and looked, and the longer the situation lasted the more difficult it became. The little shop-girl was getting into deep water. She was letting her few supports float away from her. "Oh," she said at last, "you mustn’t look at me like that." "I can’t help it," he answered. She relaxed a little and let the situation endure, giving him strength. "You are not satisfied with life, are you?" "No," she answered, weakly. He saw he was the master of the situation-he felt it. He reached over and touched her hand. "You mustn’t," she exclaimed, jumping up. "I didn’t intend to," he answered, easily. She did not run away, as she might have done. She did not terminate the inter-view, but he drifted off into a pleasant field of thought with the readiest grace. Not long after he rose to go, and she felt that he was in power. |
