The magnet attracting a waif amid forces

 
 

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CHAPTER XXV 
ASHES OF TINDER: THE LOOSING OF STAYS 
When Hurstwood got back to his office again he was in a greater quandary 
than ever. Lord, Lord, he thought, what had he got into? How could things 
have taken such a violent turn, and so quickly? He could hardly realise how 
it had all come about. It seemed a monstrous, unnatural, unwarranted 
condition which had suddenly descended upon him without his let or 
hindrance. 
Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. What could be the 
trouble in that quarter? No letter had come, no word of any kind, and yet 
here it was late in the evening and she had agreed to meet him that 
morning. To-morrow they were to have met and gone off—where? He saw 
that in the excitement of recent events he had not formulated a plan upon 
that score. He was desperately in love, and would have taken great chances 
to win her under ordinary circumstances, but now—now what? Supposing 
she had found out something? Supposing she, too, wrote him and told him 
that she knew all—that she would have nothing more to do with him? It 
would be just like this to happen as things were going now. Meanwhile he 
had not sent the money. 
He strolled up and down the polished floor of the resort, his hands in his 
pockets, his brow wrinkled, his mouth set. He was getting some vague 
comfort out of a good cigar, but it was no panacea for the ill which affected 
him. Every once in a while he would clinch his fingers and tap his foot—
signs of the stirring mental process he was undergoing. His whole nature 
was vigorously and powerfully shaken up, and he was finding what limits 
the mind has to endurance. He drank more brandy and soda than he had 
any evening in months. He was altogether a fine example of great mental 
perturbation. 
For all his study nothing came of the evening except this—he sent the 
money. It was with great opposition, after two or three hours of the most 
urgent mental affirmation and denial, that at last he got an envelope, placed 
in it the requested amount, and slowly sealed it up. 
Then he called Harry, the boy of all work around the place. 
"You take this to this address," he said, handing him the envelope, "and give 
it to Mrs. Hurstwood." 
"Yes, sir," said the boy. 
"If she isn't there bring it back." 
"Yes, sir." 

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"You've seen my wife?" he asked as a precautionary measure as the boy 
turned to go. 
"Oh, yes, sir. I know her." 
"All right, now. Hurry right back." 
"Any answer?" 
"I guess not." 
The boy hastened away and the manager fell to his musings. Now he had 
done it. There was no use speculating over that. He was beaten for to-night 
and he might just as well make the best of it. But, oh, the wretchedness of 
being forced this way! He could see her meeting the boy at the door and 
smiling sardonically. She would take the envelope and know that she had 
triumphed. If he only had that letter back he wouldn't send it. He breathed 
heavily and wiped the moisture from his face. 
For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with a few friends who were 
drinking. He tried to get the interest of things about him, but it was not to 
be. All the time his thoughts would run out to his home and see the scene 
being therein enacted. All the time he was wondering what she would say 
when the boy handed her the envelope. 
In about an hour and three-quarters the boy returned. He had evidently 
delivered the package, for, as he came up, he made no sign of taking 
anything out of his pocket. 
"Well?" said Hurstwood. 
"I gave it to her." 
"My wife?" 
"Yes, sir." 
"Any answer?" 
"She said it was high time." 
Hurstwood scowled fiercely. 
There was no more to be done upon that score that night. He went on 
brooding over his situation until midnight, when he repaired again to the 
Palmer House. He wondered what the morning would bring forth, and slept 
anything but soundly upon it. 
Next day he went again to the office and opened his mail, suspicious and 
hopeful of its contents. No word from Carrie. Nothing from his wife, which 
was pleasant. 

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The fact that he had sent the money and that she had received it worked to 
the ease of his mind, for, as the thought that he had done it receded, his 
chagrin at it grew less and his hope of peace more. He fancied, as he sat at 
his desk, that nothing would be done for a week or two. Meanwhile, he 
would have time to think. 
This process of thinking began by a reversion to Carrie and the arrangement 
by which he was to get her away from Drouet. How about that now? His 
pain at her failure to meet or write him rapidly increased as he devoted 
himself to this subject. He decided to write her care of the West Side Post-
office and ask for an explanation, as well as to have her meet him. The 
thought that this letter would probably not reach her until Monday chafed 
him exceedingly. He must get some speedier method—but how? 
He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating a messenger or a cab 
direct to the house, owing to the exposure of it, but finding that time was 
slipping away to no purpose, he wrote the letter and then began to think 
again. 
The hours slipped by, and with them the possibility of the union he had 
contemplated. He had thought to be joyously aiding Carrie by now in the 
task of joining her interests to his, and here it was afternoon and nothing 
done. Three o'clock came, four, five, six, and no letter. The helpless manager 
paced the floor and grimly endured the gloom of defeat. He saw a busy 
Saturday ushered out, the Sabbath in, and nothing done. All day, the bar 
being closed, he brooded alone, shut out from home, from the excitement of 
his resort, from Carrie, and without the ability to alter his condition one 
iota. It was the worst Sunday he had spent in his life. 
In Monday's second mail he encountered a very legal-looking letter, which 
held his interest for some time. It bore the imprint of the law offices of 
McGregor, James and Hay, and with a very formal "Dear Sir," and "We beg 
to state," went on to inform him briefly that they had been retained by Mrs. 
Julia Hurstwood to adjust certain matters which related to her sustenance 
and property rights, and would he kindly call and see them about the matter 
at once. 
He read it through carefully several times, and then merely shook his head. 
It seemed as if his family troubles were just beginning. 
"Well!" he said after a time, quite audibly, "I don't know." 
Then he folded it up and put it in his pocket. 
To add to his misery there was no word from Carrie. He was quite certain 
now that she knew he was married and was angered at his perfidy. His loss 
seemed all the more bitter now that he needed her most. He thought he 
would go out and insist on seeing her if she did not send him word of some 

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sort soon. He was really affected most miserably of all by this desertion. He 
had loved her earnestly enough, but now that the possibility of losing her 
stared him in the face she seemed much more attractive. He really pined for 
a word, and looked out upon her with his mind's eye in the most wistful 
manner. He did not propose to lose her, whatever she might think. Come 
what might, he would adjust this matter, and soon. He would go to her and 
tell her all his family complications. He would explain to her just where he 
stood and how much he needed her. Surely she couldn't go back on him 
now? It wasn't possible. He would plead until her anger would melt—until 
she would forgive him. 
Suddenly he thought: "Supposing she isn't out there—suppose she has 
gone?" 
He was forced to take his feet. It was too much to think of and sit still. 
Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing. 
On Tuesday it was the same way. He did manage to bring himself into the 
mood to go out to Carrie, but when he got in Ogden Place he thought he saw 
a man watching him and went away. He did not go within a block of the 
house. 
One of the galling incidents of this visit was that he came back on a 
Randolph Street car, and without noticing arrived almost opposite the 
building of the concern with which his son was connected. This sent a pang 
through his heart. He had called on his boy there several times. Now the lad 
had not sent him a word. His absence did not seem to be noticed by either of 
his children. Well, well, fortune plays a man queer tricks. He got back to his 
office and joined in a conversation with friends. It was as if idle chatter 
deadened the sense of misery. 
That night he dined at Rector's and returned at once to his office. In the 
bustle and show of the latter was his only relief. He troubled over many little 
details and talked perfunctorily to everybody. He stayed at his desk long 
after all others had gone, and only quitted it when the night watchman on 
his round pulled at the front door to see if it was safely locked. 
On Wednesday he received another polite note from McGregor, James and 
Hay. It read: 
"Dear Sir: We beg to inform you that we are instructed to wait until to-
morrow (Thursday) at one o'clock, before filing suit against you, on behalf of 
Mrs. Julia Hurstwood, for divorce and alimony. If we do not hear from you 
before that time we shall consider that you do not wish to compromise the 
matter in any way and act accordingly. 
"Very truly yours, etc." 

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"Compromise!" exclaimed Hurstwood bitterly. "Compromise!" 
Again he shook his head. 
So here it was spread out clear before him, and now he knew what to expect. 
If he didn't go and see them they would sue him promptly. If he did, he 
would be offered terms that would make his blood boil. He folded the letter 
and put it with the other one. Then he put on his hat and went for a turn 
about the block.