CHAPTER XXII
THE BLAZE OF THE TINDER: FLESH WARS WITH THE FLESH
The misfortune of the Hurstwood household was due to the fact that
jealousy, having been born of love, did not perish with it. Mrs. Hurstwood
retained this in such form that subsequent influences could transform it
into hate. Hurstwood was still worthy, in a physical sense, of the affection
his wife
had once bestowed upon him, but in a social sense he fell short.
With his regard died his power to be attentive to her, and this, to a woman,
is much greater than outright crime toward another. Our self-love dictates
our appreciation of the good or evil in another. In Mrs. Hurstwood it
discoloured the very hue of her husband's indifferent nature. She saw
design in deeds and phrases which sprung only from a faded appreciation of
her presence.
As a consequence, she was resentful and suspicious. The jealousy that
prompted her to observe every falling away from the little amenities of the
married relation on his part served to give her notice of the airy grace with
which he still took the world. She could see from the scrupulous care which
he exercised in the matter of his personal appearance that his interest in life
had abated not a jot. Every motion, every glance had something in it of the
pleasure he felt in Carrie, of the zest this new pursuit of pleasure lent to his
days. Mrs. Hurstwood felt something, sniffing change, as animals do danger,
afar off.
This feeling was strengthened by actions of a direct and more potent nature
on the part of Hurstwood. We have seen with what irritation he shirked
those little duties which no longer contained any amusement or satisfaction
for him,
and the open snarls with which, more recently, he resented her
irritating goads. These little rows were really precipitated by an atmosphere
which was surcharged with dissension. That it would shower, with a sky so
full of blackening thunder-clouds, would scarcely be thought worthy of
comment. Thus, after leaving the breakfast table this morning, raging
inwardly at his blank declaration of indifference at her plans, Mrs.
Hurstwood encountered
Jessica in her dressing-room, very leisurely
arranging her hair. Hurstwood had already left the house.
"I wish you wouldn't be so late coming down to breakfast," she said,
addressing Jessica, while making for her crochet basket. "Now here the
things are quite cold, and you haven't eaten."
Her natural composure was sadly ruffled, and Jessica was doomed to feel
the fag end of the storm.
"I'm
not hungry," she answered.
"Then why don't you say so, and let the girl put away the things, instead of
keeping her waiting all morning?"
"She doesn't mind," answered Jessica, coolly.
"Well, I do, if she doesn't," returned the mother, "and, anyhow, I don't like
you to talk that way to me. You're too young to put on such an air with your
mother."
"Oh, mamma, don't row," answered Jessica. "What's the matter this
morning, anyway?"
"Nothing's the matter, and I'm not rowing. You mustn't think because I
indulge you in some things that you can keep everybody waiting. I won't
have it."
"I'm not keeping anybody waiting," returned Jessica, sharply, stirred out of a
cynical indifference to a sharp defence. "I said I wasn't hungry. I don't want
any breakfast."
"Mind how you address me, missy. I'll not have it. Hear me now; I'll not have
it!"
Jessica heard this last
while walking out of the room, with a toss of her head
and a flick of her pretty skirts indicative of the independence and
indifference she felt. She did not propose to be quarrelled with.
Such little arguments were all too frequent, the result of a growth of natures
which were largely independent and selfish. George, Jr., manifested even
greater touchiness and exaggeration in the matter of his individual rights,
and attempted to make all feel that he was a man with a man's privileges—
an assumption which, of all things, is most groundless and pointless in a
youth of nineteen.
Hurstwood was a man of authority
and some fine feeling, and it irritated
him excessively to find himself surrounded more and more by a world upon
which he had no hold, and of which he had a lessening understanding.
Now, when such little things, such as the proposed earlier start to
Waukesha, came up, they made clear to him his position. He was being
made to follow, was not leading. When, in addition,
a sharp temper was
manifested, and to the process of shouldering him out of his authority was
added a rousing intellectual kick, such as a sneer or a cynical laugh, he was
unable to keep his temper. He flew into hardly repressed passion, and
wished himself clear of the whole household. It seemed a most irritating
drag upon all his desires and opportunities.
For all this, he still retained the semblance of leadership and control, even
though his wife was straining to revolt. Her display of temper and open
assertion of opposition were based upon nothing more than the feeling that
she could do it. She had no special evidence wherewith to justify herself—
the knowledge of something which would give her both authority and
excuse. The latter was all that was lacking, however, to give a solid
foundation to what, in a way, seemed groundless discontent. The clear proof
of one overt deed was the cold breath needed to convert the lowering clouds
of suspicion into a rain of wrath.
An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurstwood had come. Doctor
Beale, the handsome resident
physician of the neighbourhood, met Mrs.
Hurstwood at her own doorstep some days after Hurstwood and Carrie had
taken the drive west on Washington Boulevard. Dr. Beale, coming east on
the same drive, had recognised Hurstwood, but not before he was quite past
him. He was not so sure of Carrie—did not know whether it was
Hurstwood's wife or daughter.
"You don't speak to your friends when you meet them out driving, do you?"
he said, jocosely, to Mrs. Hurstwood.
"If I see them, I do. Where was I?"
"On Washington Boulevard," he answered, expecting her eye to light with
immediate remembrance.
She shook her head.
"Yes, out near Hoyne Avenue. You were with your husband."
"I guess you're mistaken," she answered. Then, remembering her husband's
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