while he
would meet a woman whose youth, sprightliness, and humour
would make his wife seem rather deficient by contrast, but the temporary
dissatisfaction which such an encounter might arouse would be
counterbalanced by his social position and a certain matter of policy. He
could not complicate his home life, because it might affect his relations with
his employers. They wanted no scandals. A man, to hold his position, must
have
a dignified manner, a clean record, a respectable home anchorage.
Therefore he was circumspect in all he did, and whenever he appeared in
the public ways in the afternoon, or on Sunday,
it was with his wife, and
sometimes his children. He would visit the local resorts, or those near by in
Wisconsin, and spend a few stiff, polished days strolling about conventional
places doing conventional things. He knew the need of it.
When some one of the many middle-class individuals whom he knew, who
had money, would get into trouble, he would shake his head. It didn't do to
talk about those things. If it came up for discussion among such friends as
with him passed for close, he would deprecate the folly of the thing. "It was
all right to do it—all men do those things—but why wasn't he careful? A
man can't be too careful." He lost sympathy for the man that made a
mistake and was found out.
On this account he still devoted some time to showing his wife about—time
which would have been wearisome indeed if it had not been for the people
he would meet and the little enjoyments which did not depend upon her
presence or absence. He watched her with considerable curiosity at times,
for she was still attractive in a way and men looked at her. She was affable,
vain, subject to flattery,
and this combination, he knew quite well, might
produce a tragedy in a woman of her home position. Owing to his order of
mind, his confidence in the sex was not great. His wife never possessed the
virtues which would win the confidence and admiration of a man of his
nature. As long as she loved him vigorously he could see how confidence
could be, but when that was no longer the binding chain—well, something
might happen.
During the last year or two the expenses of the family seemed a large thing.
Jessica wanted fine clothes, and Mrs. Hurstwood, not to be outshone by her
daughter, also frequently enlivened her apparel. Hurstwood had said
nothing
in the past, but one day he murmured.
"Jessica must have a new dress this month," said Mrs. Hurstwood one
morning.
Hurstwood was arraying himself in one of his perfection vests before the
glass at the time.
"I thought she just bought one," he said.
"That was just something for evening wear," returned his wife complacently.
"It seems to me," returned Hurstwood, "that she's spending a good
deal for
dresses of late."
"Well, she's going out more," concluded his wife, but the tone of his voice
impressed her as containing something she had not heard there before.
He was not a man who travelled much, but when he did, he had been
accustomed to take her along. On one occasion recently a local aldermanic
junket had been arranged to visit Philadelphia—a junket that was to last ten
days. Hurstwood had been invited.
"Nobody knows us down there," said one, a
gentleman whose face was a
slight improvement over gross ignorance and sensuality. He always wore a
silk hat of most imposing proportions. "We can have a good time." His left
eye moved with just the semblance of a wink. "You want to come along,
George."
The next day Hurstwood announced his intention to his wife.
"I'm going away, Julia," he said, "for a few days."
"Where?" she asked, looking up.
"To
Philadelphia, on business."
She looked at him consciously, expecting something else.
"I'll have to leave you behind this time."
"All right," she replied, but he could see that she was thinking that it was a
curious thing. Before he went she asked him a few more questions, and that
irritated him. He began to feel that she was a disagreeable attachment.
On this trip he enjoyed himself thoroughly, and when it was over he was
sorry to get back. He was not willingly a prevaricator, and hated thoroughly
to make explanations concerning it. The whole incident was glossed over
with general remarks, but Mrs. Hurstwood gave
the subject considerable
thought. She drove out more, dressed better, and attended theatres freely to
make up for it.
Such an atmosphere could hardly come under the category of home life. It
ran along by force of habit, by force of conventional opinion. With the lapse
of time it must necessarily become dryer and dryer—must eventually be
tinder, easily lighted and destroyed.
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