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The words were hardly spoken when she realized their infelicity. Itseemed to be her fate to appear at her worst to Selden. Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand CentralStation his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart. Hurstwood had returned, and was already in bed. His clothes werescattered loosely about. Carrie came to the door and saw him, thenretreated. She did not want to go in yet a while. She wanted to think.It was disagreeable to her. For answer there came the strangest words: Carrie was sipping coffee, and did not look up. "Look here, my man," said Hurstwood authoritatively, "you don'tunderstand anything about this case, and I can't explain to you.Whatever I intend to do I'll do without advice from the outside. You'llhave to excuse me." He ate in a cheap restaurant in the vicinity, and, being cold andlonely, went straight off to seek the loft in question. The company wasnot attempting to run cars after nightfall. It was so advised by thepolice. "Say," he said, "you haven't been sick, have you?" But the doorstep, as she drew near it, acquired a sudden interest fromthe fact that it was occupied--and indeed filled--by the conspicuousfigure of Mr. Rosedale, whose presence seemed to take on an addedamplitude from the meanness of his surroundings. Rosedale continued to stare at her in wonder; but the wonder took theturn she had least expected. “Have you never made plans?” "Left me!" he muttered, and repeated, "left me!" Selden hesitated a moment; then he rejoined in a quieter tone: "But withyour income and Gerty's--since you allow me to go so far into the detailsof the situation--you and she could surely contrive a life together whichwould put you beyond the need of having to support yourself. Gerty, Iknow, is eager to make such an arrangement, and would be quite happy init----" "We think we'll do very well," Mr. Quincel replied. "Don't you forgetnow," he concluded, Drouet showing signs of restlessness; "some youngwoman to take the part of Laura." “What’s your opinion of Saint Peter’s?” Mr. Osmond was meanwhileenquiring of our young lady. She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering what theeffect of her words would be. Lola felt for her first hold upon Carrie in the following manner: Her accent had put her slightly in the wrong, and after a moment shefelt the need to right herself. The easiest way to do it was to placehim where she had been. “You do me great injustice--you say what youdon’t know!” she broke out. “I shouldn’t be an easy victim--I’ve provedit.” Miss Stackpole gazed at him still. “Do you mean the foreign languages?” Miss Bart made an impatient movement, but suppressed the words whichseemed about to accompany it. After all, this was an unexpectedly easyway of acquitting her debt; and had she not reasons of her own forwishing to be civil to Mr. Rosedale? She continued to smile. "I like your frankness; but I am afraid ourfriendship can hardly continue on those terms." She turned away, asthough to mark that its final term had in fact been reached, and hefollowed her for a few steps with a baffled sense of her having after allkept the game in her own hands. “Is she very fond of him?” So severe a defeat told sadly upon her nerves. Her feet carried hermechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactoryportion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after block passed by.Upon street-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison,Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feetbeginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased in partthat the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shining downwith steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the streetspleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with morerealisation of its charm than had ever come to her before. She distinguished very carefully between the young boys of the school,many of whom were attracted by her beauty. “You say things to me that no one else does,” said Madame Merle gravely,yet without bitterness. She clung to the note bravely, though its futility was now plain to herin the glare of his miserable eyes. Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see the lobby clear, andhastened toward the stairs. He would get Carrie and go out by theladies' entrance. They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuousplace. "With no longings for what I may not have," she breathed inconclusion--and it was almost a sigh--"my existence hidden from all savetwo in the wide world, and making my joy out of the joy of that innocentgirl who will soon be his wife." They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced,rather commonplace woman recognised Carrie on the platform and hurriedforward. He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which wasfastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantlyhis heart sank. To gain time she repeated: "I don't understand what you want." "Well, a man ought to be more attentive than that to his wife if hewants to keep her." “I believe you hope it about as much as I believe him capable of it.” The room was full of women and girls, all too much engaged in the rapidabsorption of tea and pie to remark her entrance. A hum of shrill voicesreverberated against the low ceiling, leaving Lily shut out in a littlecircle of silence. She felt a sudden pang of profound loneliness. She hadlost the sense of time, and it seemed to her as though she had not spokento any one for days. Her eyes sought the faces about her, craving aresponsive glance, some sign of an intuition of her trouble. But thesallow preoccupied women, with their bags and note-books and rolls ofmusic, were all engrossed in their own affairs, and even those who sat bythemselves were busy running over proof-sheets or devouring magazinesbetween their hurried gulps of tea. Lily alone was stranded in a greatwaste of disoccupation. "That _is_ good," he said. "If she'll do that all through, I think itwill take." “If you like I won’t listen,” Pansy suggested with an appearance ofcandour which imposed conviction. The terrace at Bellomont on a September afternoon was a spot propitiousto sentimental musings, and as Miss Bart stood leaning against thebalustrade above the sunken garden, at a little distance from theanimated group about the tea-table, she might have been lost in the mazesof an inarticulate happiness. In reality, her thoughts were findingdefinite utterance in the tranquil recapitulation of the blessings instore for her. From where she stood she could see them embodied in theform of Mr. Gryce, who, in a light overcoat and muffler, sat somewhatnervously on the edge of his chair, while Carry Fisher, with all theenergy of eye and gesture with which nature and art had combined to endowher, pressed on him the duty of taking part in the task of municipalreform. "Yes," she answered, frankly and tenderly. “To take you where?” Ralph ventured to enquire. “Ah, dear mother,” Ralph exclaimed, “one always knows what to expectof you! You’ve never surprised me but once, and that’s to-day--inpresenting me with a pretty cousin whose existence I had neversuspected.” She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery she wasbeginning to notice what she had always felt--his thoughtfulness. "I do," he assured her, emerging from the cupboard with the sought-forcake. She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say thatshe would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing. She knew the symptoms at once, and was not surprised to be hailed by thehigh notes of a pretty woman, who entered the train accompanied by amaid, a bull-terrier, and a footman staggering under a load of bags anddressing-cases. Carrie felt this to contain, in some way, an aspersion upon her ability. “Daddy’s very fond of pleasure--of other people’s.” He went over in memory the names of a number of women he knew, andfinally fixed on one, largely because of the convenient location of herhome on the West Side, and promised himself that as he came out thatevening he would see her. When, however, he started west on the car heforgot, and was only reminded of his delinquency by an item in the"Evening News"--a small three-line affair under the head of SecretSociety Notes--which stated the Custer Lodge of the Order of Elks wouldgive a theatrical performance in Avery Hall on the 16th, when "Under theGaslight" would be produced. He put the reins in her hand, and folded his arms. These things told upon his good-nature, such as it was. His one hope wasthat things would change for the better in a money way. He had Carrie.His furniture was being paid for. He was maintaining his position. Asfor Carrie, the amusements he could give her would have to do for thepresent. He could probably keep up his pretensions sufficiently longwithout exposure to make good, and then all would be well. He failedtherein to take account of the frailties of human nature--thedifficulties of matrimonial life. Carrie was young. With him and withher varying mental states were common. At any moment the extremes offeeling might be anti-polarised at the dinner table. This often happensin the best regulated families. Little things brought out on suchoccasions need great love to obliterate them afterward. Where that isnot, both parties count two and two and make a problem after a while. Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. Shehardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed to hermost. There was no water on this floor. He put on his shoes in the cold andstood up, shaking himself in his stiffness. His clothes feltdisagreeable, his hair bad. He took them out and straightened the matter, but now the terror hadgone. Why be afraid? Being so utterly idle, and his mind filled with the numerous predictionswhich had been made concerning the scarcity of labour this winter andthe panicky state of the financial market, Hurstwood read this withinterest. He noted the claims of the striking motormen and conductors,who said that they had been wont to receive two dollars a day in timespast, but that for a year or more "trippers" had been introduced, whichcut down their chance of livelihood one-half, and increased their hoursof servitude from ten to twelve, and even fourteen. These "trippers"were men put on during the busy and _rush_ hours, to take a car out forone trip. The compensation paid for such a trip was only twenty-fivecents. When the rush or busy hours were over, they were laid off. Worstof all, no man might know when he was going to get a car. He must cometo the barns in the morning and wait around in fair and foul weatheruntil such time as he was needed. Two trips were an average reward forso much waiting--a little over three hours' work for fifty cents. Thework of waiting was not counted. In the afternoon some boxes were to be moved to make room for newculinary supplies. He was ordered to handle a truck. Encountering a bigbox, he could not lift it. "Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. "I'll see you later. Areyou stopping here?" His son broke into a laugh. “He’ll think you mean that as a provocation!My dear father, you’ve lived with the English for thirty years, andyou’ve picked up a good many of the things they say. But you’ve neverlearned the things they don’t say!” Miss Bart released her, and stood breathing brokenly, like one who hasgained shelter after a long flight. It was this constant urging, coupled with irascibility and energy, forthree long hours. Carrie came away worn enough in body, but too excitedin mind to notice it. She meant to go home and practise her evolutionsas prescribed. She would not err in any way, if she could help it. "Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address. Wewant girls occasionally." Henrietta coloured deeply, and for a moment her brilliant eyes weresuffused, while Isabel found her more than ever inconsequent. “You do megreat injustice,” said Miss Stackpole with dignity. “I’ve never writtena word about myself!” “Ah then she’s not French,” Isabel murmured; and as the oppositesupposition had made her romantic it might have seemed that thisrevelation would have marked a drop. But such was not the fact; rarereven than to be French seemed it to be American on such interestingterms. "No explanation is necessary: the situation was perfectly clear to me." “Well, I don’t know that I ever counted them. I never took much noticeof the classes. That’s the advantage of being an American here; youdon’t belong to any class.” "Oh, he's a nice man. He's manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's." "Yes, sir; she surprised me the other night. By George, if she didn't." "Perhaps it was," said Mrs. Hurstwood, knowing full well that such wasnot the case, as Jessica had been her companion for weeks. She hadrecovered herself sufficiently to wish to know more of the details. "Not at all," said Hurstwood, "I would want your husband to do as muchfor me." The lack of feeling in the thing was ridiculous. Carrie did not get itat all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. It looked as if she werecertain to be a wretched failure. She was more hopeless than Mrs.Morgan, who had recovered somewhat, and was now saying her lines clearlyat least. Drouet looked away from the stage at the audience. The latterheld out silently, hoping for a general change, of course. Hurstwoodfixed his eye on Carrie, as if to hypnotise her into doing better. Hewas pouring determination of his own in her direction. He felt sorryfor her. At last her picture appeared in one of the weeklies. She had not knownof it, and it took her breath. "Miss Carrie Madenda," it was labelled."One of the favourites of 'The Wives of Abdul' company." At Lola'sadvice she had had some pictures taken by Sarony. They had got onethere. She thought of going down and buying a few copies of the paper,but remembered that there was no one she knew well enough to send themto. Only Lola, apparently, in all the world was interested. "Carrie," she called, "Carrie, come back;" but Carrie was far down nowand the shadow had swallowed her completely. "I really think, mother," she said reproachfully, "we might afford a fewfresh flowers for luncheon. Just some jonquils or lilies-of-the-valley--" Then he went to the door, took a good look around, and went out. "We are going to see Charlie, aren't we?" she asked. "Oh, Mr. Gryce, is it you? I'm so sorry--I was trying to find the porterand get some tea." "Oh!" ejaculated Carrie, seeing at a glance. "Work, you blackguards," yelled a voice. "Do the dirty work. You're thesuckers that keep the poor people down!" Downstairs things were stirring again. "He talks about worrying," thought Carrie. "If he worried enough hecouldn't sit there and wait for me. He'd get something to do. No mancould go seven months without finding something if he tried." Lord Warburton stared. “Yes, if I liked her enough.” "I'll put a stop to this," he thought. "I'm not going to be botheredfooling around with visitors when I have work to do." “Ah,” Ralph answered with a flush that the girl noticed, “if you are I’mawfully sold!” She found, however, on reaching home, that the hour was still earlyenough for her to sit down and rest a few minutes before putting her planinto execution. The delay did not perceptibly weaken her resolve. Shewas frightened and yet stimulated by the reserved force of resolutionwhich she felt within herself: she saw it was going to be easier, a greatdeal easier, than she had imagined. The next morning he had cooled down considerably, and later the ticketwas duly secured, though it did not heal matters. He did not mind givinghis family a fair share of all that he earned, but he did not like to beforced to provide against his will. "I wasn't intending to go," said the manager easily. "I'll subscribe, ofcourse. How are things over there?" As the first half-hour waned, certain characters appeared. Here andthere in the passing crowds one might see, now and then, a loitereredging interestedly near. A slouchy figure crossed the opposite cornerand glanced furtively in his direction. Another came down Fifth Avenueto the corner of Twenty-sixth Street, took a general survey, and hobbledoff again. Two or three noticeable Bowery types edged along the FifthAvenue side of Madison Square, but did not venture over. The soldier, inhis cape overcoat, walked a short line of ten feet at his corner, to andfro, indifferently whistling. This declaration was unflattering, but Henrietta was much too unselfishto heed the charge it conveyed; she cared only for what it intimatedwith regard to her friend. “Isabel Archer,” she observed with equalabruptness and solemnity, “if you marry one of these people I’ll neverspeak to you again!” “Oh yes; if they’re settled as I like them.” “Not the least little child--fortunately.” “It certainly never did from me. Henrietta really goes very far,” Isabeladded. "Oh, I know--apple-blossoms on blotting-paper; just the kind of thing Ishall be doing myself before long!" exclaimed Lily, starting up with avehemence of movement that threatened destruction to Miss Farish'sfragile tea-table. “Because it’s not,” said Isabel femininely. “I know it’s not. It’s notmy fate to give up--I know it can’t be.” "What?" said Hanson. Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. What could be thetrouble in that quarter? No letter had come, no word of any kind, andyet here it was late in the evening and she had agreed to meet him thatmorning. To-morrow they were to have met and gone off--where? He sawthat in the excitement of recent events he had not formulated a planupon that score. He was desperately in love, and would have taken greatchances to win her under ordinary circumstances, but now--now what?Supposing she had found out something? Supposing she, too, wrote him andtold him that she knew all--that she would have nothing more to do withhim? It would be just like this to happen as things were going now.Meanwhile he had not sent the money. Something of that veiled acuteness with which it had been on DanielTouchett’s part the habit of a lifetime to listen to a financialproposition still lingered in the face in which the invalid had notobliterated the man of business. “I shall be happy to consider it,” hesaid softly. "Well, not exactly: I sold out on the rise and I've pulled off four thou'for you. Not so bad for a beginner, eh? I suppose you'll begin to thinkyou're a pretty knowing speculator. And perhaps you won't think poor oldGus such an awful ass as some people do." Silence--absolute silence--had not fallen upon her companions; but theirtalk had an appearance of embarrassed continuity. The two good sistershad not settled themselves in their respective chairs; their attitudeexpressed a final reserve and their faces showed the glaze ofprudence. They were plain, ample, mild-featured women, with a kind ofbusiness-like modesty to which the impersonal aspect of their stiffenedlinen and of the serge that draped them as if nailed on frames gave anadvantage. One of them, a person of a certain age, in spectacles, with afresh complexion and a full cheek, had a more discriminating mannerthan her colleague, as well as the responsibility of their errand, whichapparently related to the young girl. This object of interest wore herhat--an ornament of extreme simplicity and not at variance with herplain muslin gown, too short for her years, though it must alreadyhave been “let out.” The gentleman who might have been supposed to beentertaining the two nuns was perhaps conscious of the difficulties ofhis function, it being in its way as arduous to converse with the verymeek as with the very mighty. At the same time he was clearly muchoccupied with their quiet charge, and while she turned her back tohim his eyes rested gravely on her slim, small figure. He was a man offorty, with a high but well-shaped head, on which the hair, still dense,but prematurely grizzled, had been cropped close. He had a fine, narrow,extremely modelled and composed face, of which the only fault was justthis effect of its running a trifle too much to points; an appearance towhich the shape of the beard contributed not a little. This beard, cutin the manner of the portraits of the sixteenth century and surmountedby a fair moustache, of which the ends had a romantic upward flourish,gave its wearer a foreign, traditionary look and suggested that he was agentleman who studied style. His conscious, curious eyes, however, eyesat once vague and penetrating, intelligent and hard, expressive ofthe observer as well as of the dreamer, would have assured you thathe studied it only within well-chosen limits, and that in so far as hesought it he found it. You would have been much at a loss to determinehis original clime and country; he had none of the superficial signsthat usually render the answer to this question an insipidly easy one.If he had English blood in his veins it had probably received someFrench or Italian commixture; but he suggested, fine gold coin as hewas, no stamp nor emblem of the common mintage that provides for generalcirculation; he was the elegant complicated medal struck off for aspecial occasion. He had a light, lean, rather languid-looking figure,and was apparently neither tall nor short. He was dressed as a mandresses who takes little other trouble about it than to have no vulgarthings. "Very well," said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed. "How is it with you?" She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner dropped itreluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain as to whether sheshould do so or not. Then she took the car and went down town. She paused a moment, moved in spite of herself by this reminder of herinfluence over him. Her fibres had been softened by suffering, and thesudden glimpse into his mocked and broken life disarmed her contempt forhis weakness. "Here," he said, handing him one, to be rid of him. "Be off, now." “No indeed, I’m not tired; what have I done to tire me?” Isabel felt acertain need of being very direct, of pretending to nothing; there wassomething in the air, in her general impression of things--she couldhardly have said what it was--that deprived her of all disposition toput herself forward. The place, the occasion, the combination of people,signified more than lay on the surface; she would try to understand--shewould not simply utter graceful platitudes. Poor Isabel was doubtlessnot aware that many women would have uttered graceful platitudes tocover the working of their observation. It must be confessed that herpride was a trifle alarmed. A man she had heard spoken of in termsthat excited interest and who was evidently capable of distinguishinghimself, had invited her, a young lady not lavish of her favours,to come to his house. Now that she had done so the burden of theentertainment rested naturally on his wit. Isabel was not renderedless observant, and for the moment, we judge, she was not renderedmore indulgent, by perceiving that Mr. Osmond carried his burden lesscomplacently than might have been expected. “What a fool I was tohave let myself so needlessly in--!” she could fancy his exclaiming tohimself. "So," she thought, "that's the way he does. Tells my friends I am sickand cannot come." The next act, however, settled what was to be done. Carrie was the chieffeature of the play. The audience, the more it studied her, the more itindicated its delight. Every other feature paled beside the quaint,teasing, delightful atmosphere which Carrie contributed while on thestage. Manager and company realised she had made a hit. Carrie gazed without exactly getting the import of what he meant. Mrs. Peniston rose abruptly, and, advancing to the ormolu clocksurmounted by a helmeted Minerva, which throned on the chimney-piecebetween two malachite vases, passed her lace handkerchief between thehelmet and its visor. She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by him again. He lether, and she took another seat. Then he followed. There was no gainsaying the value of this. Everybody in the companyrealised that she had got a start. Carrie hugged herself when nextevening the lines got the same applause. She went home rejoicing,knowing that soon something must come of it. It was Hurstwood who, byhis presence, caused her merry thoughts to flee and replaced them withsharp longings for an end of distress. "Now, who the deuce do I know?" asked the drummer reflectively,scratching his rosy ear. "I don't know any one that knows anything aboutamateur theatricals." "I guess they feel as if they had: there's only one up-to-date hotel inthe whole place," said Mr. Bry disparagingly. A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung refreshinglyover the moist street. It was about this time that the newspapers and magazines were beginningto pay that illustrative attention to the beauties of the stage whichhas since become fervid. The newspapers, and particularly the Sundaynewspapers, indulged in large decorative theatrical pages, in which thefaces and forms of well-known theatrical celebrities appeared, enclosedwith artistic scrolls. The magazines also--or at least one or two of thenewer ones--published occasional portraits of pretty stars, and now andagain photos of scenes from various plays. Carrie watched these withgrowing interest. When would a scene from her opera appear? When wouldsome paper think her photo worth while? The cab had not travelled a short block before Carrie, settling herselfand thoroughly waking in the night atmosphere, asked: Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heaven knowswhat vagaries of mind and spirit. Every half-hour in the day the thoughtwould come to her most sharply, like the tail of a swishing whip, thataction--immediate action--was imperative. At other times she would lookabout her and assure herself that things were not so bad--that certainlyshe would come out safe and sound. At such times she would think ofDrouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw some chance forherself in that quarter. She decided to take up that opportunity on themorrow. He had checked his first movement of surprise, and stood silent, waitingfor her to speak, while she paused a moment on the threshold, assailed bya rush of memories. But the officer turned a deaf ear. After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola. There was another place in which Laura was to rise and, with a sense ofimpending disaster, say, sadly: "So it is, on his side. And of course Bertha has been idle since. But Ifancy she's out of a job just at present--and some one gave me a hintthat I had better ask Lawrence. Well, I DID ask him--but I couldn't makehim come; and now I suppose she'll take it out of me by being perfectlynasty to every one else." "Be able to manage it? That's not what I mean--it's no place for you!" “I don’t think I know what you mean,” she said; “you use too manyfigures of speech; I could never understand allegories. The two words inthe language I most respect are Yes and No. If Isabel wants to marry Mr.Osmond she’ll do so in spite of all your comparisons. Let her alone tofind a fine one herself for anything she undertakes. I know very littleabout the young man in America; I don’t think she spends much of hertime in thinking of him, and I suspect he has got tired of waiting forher. There’s nothing in life to prevent her marrying Mr. Osmond ifshe only looks at him in a certain way. That’s all very well; no oneapproves more than I of one’s pleasing one’s self. But she takes herpleasure in such odd things; she’s capable of marrying Mr. Osmond forthe beauty of his opinions or for his autograph of Michael Angelo.She wants to be disinterested: as if she were the only person who’sin danger of not being so! Will _he_ be so disinterested when he has thespending of her money? That was her idea before your father’s death, andit has acquired new charms for her since. She ought to marry some one ofwhose disinterestedness she shall herself be sure; and there would be nosuch proof of that as his having a fortune of his own.” “I’m afraid I’ve done that already. I hope, at least,” Miss Stackpoleadded, “that he may cross with Annie Climber!” "A quarter after five," said her companion, consulting an elegant,open-faced watch. The reaction caused her a sharp pang, but after a passing movement ofirritation at the clumsiness of fate, and at her own carelessness in notdenying the door to all but Selden, she controlled herself and greetedRosedale amicably. It was annoying that Selden, when he came, should findthat particular visitor in possession, but Lily was mistress of the artof ridding herself of superfluous company, and to her present moodRosedale seemed distinctly negligible. "Yes," she said, cautiously, "was it pleasant? He did not tell me muchabout it." Poor Lord Warburton stared, an interrogative point in either eye. “Doyou call marrying me giving up?” The youth looked exceedingly crestfallen. "It was simply inhuman of Pragg to go off now," Mrs. Trenor declared, asher friend seated herself at the desk. "She says her sister is going tohave a baby--as if that were anything to having a house-party! I'm sure Ishall get most horribly mixed up and there will be some awful rows. WhenI was down at Tuxedo I asked a lot of people for next week, and I'vemislaid the list and can't remember who is coming. And this week is goingto be a horrid failure too--and Gwen Van Osburgh will go back and tellher mother how bored people were. I did mean to ask the Wetheralls--thatwas a blunder of Gus's. They disapprove of Carry Fisher, you know. As ifone could help having Carry Fisher! It WAS foolish of her to get thatsecond divorce--Carry always overdoes things--but she said the only wayto get a penny out of Fisher was to divorce him and make him pay alimony.And poor Carry has to consider every dollar. It's really absurd of AliceWetherall to make such a fuss about meeting her, when one thinks of whatsociety is coming to. Some one said the other day that there was adivorce and a case of appendicitis in every family one knows. Besides,Carry is the only person who can keep Gus in a good humour when we havebores in the house. Have you noticed that ALL the husbands like her? All,I mean, except her own. It's rather clever of her to have made aspecialty of devoting herself to dull people--the field is such a largeone, and she has it practically to herself. She finds compensations, nodoubt--I know she borrows money of Gus--but then I'd PAY her to keep himin a good humour, so I can't complain, after all." He hesitated again. "Yes: in the modest capacity of a person to talkthings over with." “Too many ideas.” “I’m not sure of that,” said Isabel, smiling. “The early masters are now worth a good deal of money,” said MadameMerle, “and the daughter’s a very young and very innocent and veryharmless person.” “I suppose it’s the right way to feel everywhere, when one _is_ nobody.But I like it in a church as little as anywhere else.” Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It was aclothing company, and more people were in evidence--well-dressed men offorty and more, surrounded by brass railings. Going out, the same Broadway taught her a sharper lesson. The scene shehad witnessed coming down was now augmented and at its height. Such acrush of finery and folly she had never seen. It clinched herconvictions concerning her state. She had not lived, could not lay claimto having lived, until something of this had come into her own life.Women were spending money like water; she could see that in everyelegant shop she passed. Flowers, candy, jewelry, seemed the principalthings in which the elegant dames were interested. And she--she hadscarcely enough pin money to indulge in such outings as this a few timesa month. The strangeness of entering as a suppliant the house where she had solong commanded, increased Lily's desire to shorten the ordeal; and whenMiss Stepney entered the darkened drawing-room, rustling with the bestquality of crape, her visitor went straight to the point: would she bewilling to advance the amount of the expected legacy? There was the captain curtly pleading as before. He heard withastonishment and a sense of relief the oft-repeated words: "These menmust have a bed." Before him was the line of unfortunates whose bedswere yet to be had, and seeing a newcomer quietly edge up and take aposition at the end of the line, he decided to do likewise. What use tocontend? He was weary to-night. It was a simple way out of onedifficulty, at least. To-morrow, maybe, he would do better. Isabel made for the moment as if to deny this charge; instead of which,however, she presently answered: “It’s very true. I did encourage him.” And then she asked if her companion had learned from Mr. Goodwoodwhat he intended to do. It was a concession to her curiosity, for shedisliked discussing the subject and found Henrietta wanting in delicacy. The blue-eyed soldier's name was Osborne--Lola Osborne. Her room was inNineteenth Street near Fourth Avenue, a block now given up wholly tooffice buildings. Here she had a comfortable back room, looking over acollection of back yards in which grew a number of shade trees pleasantto see. "Say," said Drouet, as if struck by a sudden idea, "I want you to comeout some evening." “I see,” said Ralph. “She has adopted you.” There was the least quaver in her voice as she said this. Somehow, theinfluence he was exerting was powerful. They came to an understanding ofeach other without words--he of her situation, she of the fact that herealised it. Stepney, since his marriage, had thickened and grown prudish, as the VanOsburgh husbands were apt to do; but his wife, to his surprise anddiscomfiture, had developed an earth-shaking fastness of gait which lefthim trailing breathlessly in her wake. “It’s a small consolation to allow me!” her companion exclaimed withforce. “To pay him a visit?” “Not till I’ve seen Europe!” said Miss Stackpole. “What are you laughingat?” she went on. “What I mean is that Mr. Goodwood came out in thesteamer with me.” Her face brightened at this, but she drew her hand away, not with agesture of coquetry, but as though renouncing something to which she hadno claim. "You want to get some New York experience," concluded the affable Mrs.Bermudez. "We'll take your name, though." Driven to desperation, she asked at dinner: She sat up in surprise. "You do?" "To fall?" Miss Bart suggested. "Why, you little sinner," the latter exclaimed, as she saw Carrie comingtoward her across the now vacant stage. "How in the world did thishappen?" “Oh yes, I obey very well,” cried Pansy with soft eagerness, almost withboastfulness, as if she had been speaking of her piano-playing. And thenshe gave a faint, just audible sigh. At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel thebitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descended uponher. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapt in her own mounting thoughts.She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood. "Now, to-morrow," he thought, "I'll look around myself," and withrenewed hope he lifted his eyes from the ground. He had taken her hand, half-banteringly, and was drawing her toward a lowseat by the hearth; but she stopped and freed herself quietly. Miss Bart, accordingly, rose the next morning with the most earnestconviction that it was her duty to go to church. She tore herself betimesfrom the lingering enjoyment of her breakfast-tray, rang to have her greygown laid out, and despatched her maid to borrow a prayer-book from Mrs.Trenor. When in the flush of such feelings he heard his wife's voice, when theinsistent demands of matrimony recalled him from dreams to a stalepractice, how it grated. He then knew that this was a chain which boundhis feet. Carrie listened at her window view, more astonished than anything elseat this sudden rise of passion in the drummer. She could hardly believeher senses--so good-natured and tractable had he invariably been. It wasnot for her to see the wellspring of human passion. A real flame of loveis a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward tofairylands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is thequality upon which it feeds. Edmund and Lilian were slow to return, and Mrs. Touchett had anhour’s uninterrupted talk with her niece, who found her a strange andinteresting figure: a figure essentially--almost the first she had evermet. She was as eccentric as Isabel had always supposed; and hitherto,whenever the girl had heard people described as eccentric, she hadthought of them as offensive or alarming. The term had always suggestedto her something grotesque and even sinister. But her aunt made it amatter of high but easy irony, or comedy, and led her to ask herselfif the common tone, which was all she had known, had ever been asinteresting. No one certainly had on any occasion so held her as thislittle thin-lipped, bright-eyed, foreign-looking woman, who retrieved aninsignificant appearance by a distinguished manner and, sitting there ina well-worn waterproof, talked with striking familiarity of the courtsof Europe. There was nothing flighty about Mrs. Touchett, but sherecognised no social superiors, and, judging the great ones of the earthin a way that spoke of this, enjoyed the consciousness of makingan impression on a candid and susceptible mind. Isabel at first hadanswered a good many questions, and it was from her answers apparentlythat Mrs. Touchett derived a high opinion of her intelligence. But afterthis she had asked a good many, and her aunt’s answers, whatever turnthey took, struck her as food for deep reflexion. Mrs. Touchett waitedfor the return of her other niece as long as she thought reasonable, butas at six o’clock Mrs. Ludlow had not come in she prepared to take herdeparture. Having passionately celebrated her reunion with her offspring, andexcused herself in cryptic language for the lateness of her return,Nettie restored the baby to the crib and shyly invited Miss Bart to therocking-chair near the stove. “So she says.” Lola looked at her with big, merry eyes. “You’ll marry some one else, as sure as I sit here,” Caspar Goodwooddeclared. Lily flushed at the suddenness of the attack; then she stiffened under itand said coldly: "And may I ask where you mean me to go?" "You stay here now, and I'll go," he added at last. Mrs. Fisher continued to observe her tentatively. "Not if he has any oneelse to turn to! Yes--that's just what it comes to: the poor creaturecan't stand alone. And I remember him such a good fellow, full of lifeand enthusiasm." She paused, and went on, dropping her glance fromLily's: "He wouldn't stay with her ten minutes if he KNEW----" Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the letter, he hadlaid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floatingaround having what he considered a gay time. On this particular eveninghe dined at "Rector's," a restaurant of some local fame, which occupieda basement at Clark and Monroe Streets. Thereafter he visited the resortof Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams Street, opposite the imposing FederalBuilding. There he leaned over the splendid bar and swallowed a glass ofplain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of which he lighted.This to him represented in part high life--a fair sample of what thewhole must be. "It's been delightful; and now you will have to return my visit." "You've been crying," he said. This shifting of the burden to her appealed to Carrie. The semblance ofthe load without the weight touched the woman's heart. “I thought so till I knew you, Miss Stackpole,” Ralph answered; “andthen I suddenly changed my mind.” Nothing could have been less consonant with Selden's mood than VanAlstyne's after-dinner aphorisms, but as long as the latter confinedhimself to generalities his listener's nerves were in control. HappilyVan Alstyne prided himself on his summing up of social aspects, and withSelden for audience was eager to show the sureness of his touch. Mrs.Fisher lived in an East side street near the Park, and as the two menwalked down Fifth Avenue the new architectural developments of thatversatile thoroughfare invited Van Alstyne's comment. “My dear Mrs. Touchett!” Lord Warburton murmured. An office boy approached her. "If you have brought me here to say insulting things----" she began. Selden felt an inner start; but it was only the last quiver of hisegoism. Almost at once he answered quite simply: "But you do care forthem, don't you? And no wishing of mine can alter that." "Sven doesn't think it looks good to stand down there," she said. “I’m not afraid of that; but if I’m tired I shall at least have learnedsomething.” Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in eitherdirection, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the smallclerks and floor help in the great wholesale houses, and men and womengenerally coming out of doors and passing about the neighbourhood,Carrie felt slightly reassured. In the sunshine of the morning, beneaththe wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, what fears, except themost desperate, can find a harbourage? In the night, or the gloomychambers of the day, fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in thesunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death. She turned and recognised him on the instant. If there ever had lurkedany feeling in her heart against him, it deserted her now. Still, sheremembered what Drouet said about his having stolen the money. “But you didn’t feel curious?” "No; I was looking around for another place," said Carrie. "Well," he continued, still jovially impervious to her annoyance, "haveyou made up your mind which of these little trinkets you mean toduplicate at Tiffany's tomorrow? I've got a cheque for you in my pocketthat will go a long way in that line!" “Don’t you like it over here?” asked Mr. Touchett with his aged,innocent voice. "No; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want to improve, is toget hold of a place of my own." Now, as on each preceding day, letters were handed her by the doormanat the Casino. This was a feature which had rapidly developed sinceMonday. What they contained she well knew. _Mash notes_ were old affairsin their mildest form. She remembered having received her first one farback in Columbia City. Since then, as a chorus girl, she had receivedothers--gentlemen who prayed for an engagement. They were common sportbetween her and Lola, who received some also. They both frequently madelight of them. On coming down from his room at six, he looked carefully about to see ifDrouet was present and then went out to lunch. He could scarcely eat,however, he was so anxious to be about his errand. Before starting hethought it well to discover where Drouet would be, and returned to hishotel. "Would you mind helping me out until then?" he said appealingly. "Ithink I'll be all right after that time." The car ran back more quietly--hooted, watched, flung at, but notattacked. Hurstwood breathed freely when he saw the barns. “You should have brought me a specimen of your powers.” "A great deal more? Do you owe two? She must have robbed you!" Under better material conditions, this kind of work would not have beenso bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant working conditionsfor employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing companies. He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating a messenger or acab direct to the house, owing to the exposure of it, but finding thattime was slipping away to no purpose, he wrote the letter and then beganto think again. By noontime the train rolled into Detroit and he began to feelexceedingly nervous. The police must be on his track by now. They hadprobably notified all the police of the big cities, and detectives wouldbe watching for him. He remembered instances in which defaulters hadbeen captured. Consequently, he breathed heavily and paled somewhat. Hishands felt as if they must have something to do. He simulated interestin several scenes without which he did not feel. He repeatedly beat hisfoot upon the floor. "But I have no engagement with Mr. Selden! My engagement was to go tochurch; and I'm afraid the omnibus has started without me. HAS itstarted, do you know?" “Splendid manners--in the American style.” He sensed something, and slipped his arm over her shoulder, patting herarm. “Yes--and locked herself in. She always does that. Well, I suppose Ishall see her next week.” And Mrs. Touchett’s husband slowly resumed hisformer posture. In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of this showyparade; had never even been on Broadway when it was taking place. On theother hand, it was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not only knew ofit as an entity, but had often been in it, going purposely to see and beseen, to create a stir with her beauty and dispel any tendency to fallshort in dressiness by contrasting herself with the beauty and fashionof the town. "I'm out," was her reply to the boy. "You'll hurt your eyes," he said when he saw her. “I really can’t tell you. You must ask Edmund and Lilian; they’ll beback in half an hour.” “It’s true it was an odd way, but I did think she was trying to attractme. Forgive my depravity.” He made her take it. She felt bound to him by a strange tie of affectionnow. They went out, and he walked with her far out south toward PolkStreet, talking. At six she was ready to go. Theatrical paraphernalia had been providedover and above her care. She had practised her make-up in the morning,had rehearsed and arranged her material for the evening by one o'clock,and had gone home to have a final look at her part, waiting for theevening to come. "Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce Mr. Ames, a cousin of mine," said Mrs.Vance. "He's going along with us, aren't you, Bob?" “I don’t know whether you’d try to, but you certainly would: that I mustin candour admit!” he exclaimed with an anxious laugh. “I didn’t say I hoped _never_ to hear from you,” said Isabel. The strain of the situation was too much for her, however. She made onemore vain effort and then burst into tears. "What makes you talk like that?" she asked, wrinkling her prettyforehead. "You act so funny to-night." “Won’t it tire you?” Ralph demurred. "Yes, I saw George," returned Drouet. "Great old boy, isn't he? We hadquite a time there together." “Ah, poor man, I’m very sorry!” the girl exclaimed, immediately movingforward. “I got the impression from your mother that he was ratherintensely active.” "Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may sell to you; but herlove is the treasure without money and without price." "Look around," she said, a thought of the need that hung outside thisfine restaurant like a hungry dog at her heels passing into her eyes. "Can you always get in another show?" “Oh, she feels so grand since Mrs. Touchett’s visit,” said her sister. “If all the good people were hidden away in convents how would the worldget on?” her companion softly enquired, rising also. The manager smiled most blandly. "Well, you can do that all right," he said. "I don't know," said Carrie vaguely--a flash vision of the possibilityof her not securing employment rising in her mind. The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf a while, but later hewas again called. This time a new team of officers was aboard. Slightlymore confident, he sped the car along the commonplace streets and feltsomewhat less fearful. On one side, however, he suffered intensely. Theday was raw, with a sprinkling of snow and a gusty wind, made all themore intolerable by the speed of the car. His clothing was not intendedfor this sort of work. He shivered, stamped his feet, and beat his armsas he had seen other motormen do in the past, but said nothing. Thenovelty and danger of the situation modified in a way his disgust anddistress at being compelled to be here, but not enough to prevent himfrom feeling grim and sour. This was a dog's life, he thought. It was atough thing to have to come to. Carrie noticed that Hanson had said nothing to this. He seemed to bethinking of something else. “We shall hear next that poor Madame Merle is Metastasio!” GilbertOsmond resignedly sighed. It was certainly strange that she should have taken this step withoutletting Gerty Farish know of her decision; and Selden waited with a vaguesense of uneasiness while the address was sought for. The process lastedlong enough for uneasiness to turn to apprehension; but when at length aslip of paper was handed him, and he read on it: "Care of Mrs. NormaHatch, Emporium Hotel," his apprehension passed into an incredulousstare, and this into the gesture of disgust with which he tore the paperin two, and turned to walk quickly homeward. Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this. It was true that, during the last three or four weeks, she had absentedherself from Bellomont on the pretext of having other visits to pay; butshe now began to feel that the reckoning she had thus contrived to evadehad rolled up interest in the interval. I am bound to confess, though it may cast some discredit on the sketch Ihave given of the youthful loyalty practised by our heroine toward thisaccomplished woman, that Isabel had said nothing whatever to her aboutLord Warburton and had been equally reticent on the subject of CasparGoodwood. She had not, however, concealed the fact that she had hadopportunities of marrying and had even let her friend know of howadvantageous a kind they had been. Lord Warburton had left Lockleighand was gone to Scotland, taking his sisters with him; and though he hadwritten to Ralph more than once to ask about Mr. Touchett’s health thegirl was not liable to the embarrassment of such enquiries as, had hestill been in the neighbourhood, he would probably have felt bound tomake in person. He had excellent ways, but she felt sure that if he hadcome to Gardencourt he would have seen Madame Merle, and that if he hadseen her he would have liked her and betrayed to her that he was in lovewith her young friend. It so happened that during this lady’s previousvisits to Gardencourt--each of them much shorter than the present--hehad either not been at Lockleigh or had not called at Mr. Touchett’s.Therefore, though she knew him by name as the great man of thatcounty, she had no cause to suspect him as a suitor of Mrs. Touchett’sfreshly-imported niece. "You don't say so," would be the reply. "If you don't report more regularly we'll have to cut you off the list." "You're a determined little miss, aren't you?" he said, after a fewmoments, looking up into her eyes. She made a gesture of refusal. "No: I drink too much tea. I would rathersit quiet--I must go in a moment," she added confusedly. When he came near the office in question, he saw a few men standingabout, and some policemen. On the far corners were other men--whom hetook to be strikers--watching. All the houses were small and wooden, thestreets poorly paved. After New York, Brooklyn looked actually poor andhard-up. Hurstwood saw her depart with some faint stirrings of shame, which werethe expression of a manhood rapidly becoming stultified. He sat a while,and then it became too much. He got up and put on his hat. She moved away, as though to put as much distance as possible betweenherself and her visitor. "I know nothing of these letters," she said; "Ihave no idea why you have brought them here." She was beginning to have fits of angry rebellion against fate, when shelonged to drop out of the race and make an independent life for herself.But what manner of life would it be? She had barely enough money to payher dress-makers' bills and her gambling debts; and none of the desultoryinterests which she dignified with the name of tastes was pronouncedenough to enable her to live contentedly in obscurity. Ah, no--she wastoo intelligent not to be honest with herself. She knew that she hateddinginess as much as her mother had hated it, and to her last breath shemeant to fight against it, dragging herself up again and again above itsflood till she gained the bright pinnacles of success which presentedsuch a slippery surface to her clutch. "Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely. "No," said Lola, "not very often. You won't go anywhere. That's what'sthe matter with you." “I don’t object to her,” said Osmond; “I rather like Mrs. Touchett.She has a sort of old-fashioned character that’s passing away--a vivididentity. But that long jackanapes the son--is he about the place?” “Very little, I suspect. But my sister’s dreadfully afraid of learninganything,” said Mr. Osmond. Drouet was on the corner when she came up. "How often?" “You’ll see for yourself,” said Lord Warburton. “When does Mrs. Touchettarrive?” "I should fancy so--except to the historian. But your real collectorvalues a thing for its rarity. I don't suppose the buyers of Americanasit up reading them all night--old Jefferson Gryce certainly didn't." “Most certainly,” said Ralph, smiling serenely. “I’m pleased that you remember so well what I say. That was myintention. But I’ve come to Florence to meet some friends who havelately arrived and as to whose movements I was at that time uncertain.” "Let's see," he went on, "I know quite a number of people in your town.Morgenroth the clothier and Gibson the dry goods man." "Oh, very," she returned, also catching it, now that her attention wascalled. "Perfectly serious. I'm obliged to work for my living." The pink-faced clock drummed out another hour, and Gerty rose with astart. She had an appointment early the next morning with a districtvisitor on the East side. She put out her lamp, covered the fire, andwent into her bedroom to undress. In the little glass above herdressing-table she saw her face reflected against the shadows of theroom, and tears blotted the reflection. What right had she to dream thedreams of loveliness? A dull face invited a dull fate. She cried quietlyas she undressed, laying aside her clothes with her habitual precision,setting everything in order for the next day, when the old life must betaken up as though there had been no break in its routine. Her servantdid not come till eight o'clock, and she prepared her own tea-tray andplaced it beside the bed. Then she locked the door of the flat,extinguished her light and lay down. But on her bed sleep would notcome, and she lay face to face with the fact that she hated Lily Bart. Itclosed with her in the darkness like some formless evil to be blindlygrappled with. Reason, judgment, renunciation, all the sane daylightforces, were beaten back in the sharp struggle for self-preservation. Shewanted happiness--wanted it as fiercely and unscrupulously as Lily did,but without Lily's power of obtaining it. And in her conscious impotenceshe lay shivering, and hated her friend---- Hurstwood went back through the barns and out into a large, enclosedlot, where were a series of tracks and loops. A half-dozen cars werethere, manned by instructors, each with a pupil at the lever. Morepupils were waiting at one of the rear doors of the barn. She raised the troubled loveliness of her face to Mrs. Peniston, vainlyhoping that a sight so moving to the other sex might not be withouteffect upon her own. But the effect produced was that of making Mrs.Peniston shrink back apprehensively. "Yes." "Why don't you take anything, George, temporarily?" she said. "Whatdifference does it make? Maybe, after a while, you'll get somethingbetter." It was the wrong note, and she knew it as she spoke. To be stung by ironyit is not necessary to understand it, and the angry streaks on Trenor'sface might have been raised by an actual lash. The complete ignoring by Hurstwood of his own home came with the growthof his affection for Carrie. His actions, in all that related to hisfamily, were of the most perfunctory kind. He sat at breakfast with hiswife and children, absorbed in his own fancies, which reached farwithout the realm of their interests. He read his paper, which washeightened in interest by the shallowness of the themes discussed by hisson and daughter. Between himself and his wife ran a river ofindifference. "Excuse me--are you sick?--Why, it's Miss Bart!" a half-familiar voiceexclaimed. Comfortable! At that moment the word was more eloquent to Lily Bart thanany other in the language. She could not even pause to smile over theheiress's view of a colossal fortune as a mere shelter against want: hermind was filled with the vision of what that shelter might have been toher. Mrs. Dorset's pin-pricks did not smart, for her own irony cutdeeper: no one could hurt her as much as she was hurting herself, for noone else--not even Judy Trenor--knew the full magnitude of her folly. One experienced youth volunteered, anyhow. The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing. “I adore a moat,” said Isabel. “Good-bye.” "They've got the militia on their side," he thought. "There isn'tanything those men can do." "They're putting on a summer play at the Casino," she announced, afterfiguratively putting her ear to the ground. "Let's try and get in that." Selden tossed away his cigarette. "By Jove--it's time for my train," heexclaimed, with a glance at his watch; adding, in reply to Mrs. Fisher'ssurprised comment--"Why, I thought of course you were at Monte!"--amurmured word to the effect that he was making Nice his head-quarters. "I am joining the Duchess tomorrow," she explained, "and it seemed easierfor me to remain on shore for the night." The stopping of the train at Garrisons would not have distracted her fromthese thoughts, had she not caught a sudden look of distress in hercompanion's eye. His seat faced toward the door, and she guessed that hehad been perturbed by the approach of an acquaintance; a fact confirmedby the turning of heads and general sense of commotion which her ownentrance into a railway-carriage was apt to produce. At last he had a clew to her interest, and followed it deftly. In a fewminutes he had come about into her seat. He talked of sales of clothing,his travels, Chicago, and the amusements of that city. “I hope not. Is that _your_ branch?” A question which provoked much candidhilarity on the part of the two ladies; on the subsidence of which theirentertainer, glancing at his daughter, remarked that she had grown. "I don't see what that's got to do with it," said the drummer quaintly. Lord Hubert looked at his watch. "By Jove, I promised to join the Duchessfor supper at the LONDON HOUSE; but it's past twelve, and I supposethey've all scattered. The fact is, I lost them in the crowd soon afterdinner, and took refuge here, for my sins. They had seats on one of thestands, but of course they couldn't stop quiet: the Duchess never can.She and Miss Bart went off in quest of what they call adventures--gad, itain't their fault if they don't have some queer ones!" He addedtentatively, after pausing to grope for a cigarette: "Miss Bart's an oldfriend of yours, I believe? So she told me.--Ah, thanks--I don't seem tohave one left." He lit Selden's proffered cigarette, and continued, inhis high-pitched drawling tone: "None of my business, of course, but Ididn't introduce her to the Duchess. Charming woman, the Duchess, youunderstand; and a very good friend of mine; but RATHER a liberaleducation." “She can indeed. But she would probably spend it in two or three years.” Lily sighed more deeply. "I sometimes think," she murmured, "that menunderstand a woman's motives better than other women do." “Well now, there’s a specimen,” he said to her as they walked up fromthe riverside and he recognised Lord Warburton. "You know," he said, "I think I'm going to get the worst of my deal downthere." "I am not very bad," he said, apologetically, as if he owed it to her toexplain on this score. "You think, probably, that I roam around, and getinto all sorts of evil? I have been rather reckless, but I could easilycome out of that. I need you to draw me back, if my life ever amounts toanything." “The pretty women themselves may be sent flying!” Lord Warburtonexclaimed. Mrs. Peniston was the owner of a country-place in New Jersey, but she hadnever lived there since her husband's death--a remote event, whichappeared to dwell in her memory chiefly as a dividing point in thepersonal reminiscences that formed the staple of her conversation. Shewas a woman who remembered dates with intensity, and could tell at amoment's notice whether the drawing-room curtains had been renewed beforeor after Mr. Peniston's last illness. As the train turned east at Spuyten Duyvil and followed the east bank ofthe Harlem River, Hurstwood nervously called her attention to the factthat they were on the edge of the city. After her experience withChicago, she expected long lines of cars--a great highway of tracks--andnoted the difference. The sight of a few boats in the Harlem and more inthe East River tickled her young heart. It was the first sign of thegreat sea. Next came a plain street with five-story brick flats, andthen the train plunged into the tunnel. He only offered a third interest in the stock, fixtures, and good-will,and this in return for a thousand dollars and managerial ability on thepart of the one who should come in. There was no property involved,because the owner of the saloon merely rented from an estate. To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descendand return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these verytrains which came up daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, evenonce she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours--a few hundredmiles? She looked at the little slip bearing her sister's address andwondered. She gazed at the green landscape, now passing in swiftreview, until her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vagueconjectures of what Chicago might be. She looked at him consciously, expecting something else. "Get out," said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called more than half adozen times since we've been here." She conceived a true estimate of Drouet. To her, and indeed to all theworld, he was a nice, good-hearted man. There was nothing evil in thefellow. He gave her the money out of a good heart--out of a realisationof her want. He would not have given the same amount to a poor youngman, but we must not forget that a poor young man could not, in thenature of things, have appealed to him like a poor young girl.Femininity affected his feelings. He was the creature of an inborndesire. Yet no beggar could have caught his eye and said, "My God,mister, I'm starving," but he would gladly have handed out what wasconsidered the proper portion to give beggars and thought no more aboutit. There would have been no speculation, no philosophising. He had nomental process in him worthy the dignity of either of those terms. Inhis good clothes and fine health, he was a merry, unthinking moth of thelamp. Deprived of his position, and struck by a few of the involved andbaffling forces which sometimes play upon man, he would have been ashelpless as Carrie--as helpless, as non-understanding, as pitiable, ifyou will, as she. Carrie was afraid of what she was going to do, but she was relieved toknow that this condition was ending. They would not care. Hansonparticularly would be glad when she went. He would not care what becameof her. "No--I got to bed late. After we missed you at the station I thought weought to wait for you till the last train." She spoke very gently, butwith just the least tinge of reproach. "See that fellow coming in there?" said Hurstwood, glancing at agentleman just entering, arrayed in a high hat and Prince Albert coat,his fat cheeks puffed and red as with good eating. "Good God--if you'd listened to me!" he cried, venting his helplessnessin a burst of anger. As usual, the table was one short that evening. The progress of the play did not improve matters for him. Carrie, fromnow on, was easily the centre of interest. The audience, which had beeninclined to feel that nothing could be good after the first gloomyimpression, now went to the other extreme and saw power where it wasnot. The general feeling reacted on Carrie. She presented her part withsome felicity, though nothing like the intensity which had aroused thefeeling at the end of the long first act. Toward evening he looked so badly in the weak light that she suggestedhe go to bed. "I'll go down for a little while," he said after breakfast, "and thenI'll look around. To-morrow I'll spend the whole day looking about. Ithink I can get something, now this thing's off my hands." Carrie, ignorant of his theft and his fears, enjoyed the entry into thelatter city in the morning. The round green hills sentinelling thebroad, expansive bosom of the Hudson held her attention by their beautyas the train followed the line of the stream. She had heard of theHudson River, the great city of New York, and now she looked out,filling her mind with the wonder of it. She took one with an unsteady hand, and putting it to her lips, leanedforward to draw her light from his. In the indistinctness the little redgleam lit up the lower part of her face, and he saw her mouth trembleinto a smile. On Saturday Carrie went out by herself--first toward the river, whichinterested her, and then back along Jackson Street, which was then linedby the pretty houses and fine lawns which subsequently caused it to bemade into a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences of wealth,although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street worth more thana hundred thousand dollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, becausealready she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interestand joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberalcharacter, and she punctuated them with speculations as to thewhereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might call anyhowMonday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed at the possibility,there was, nevertheless, just the shade of a wish that he would. Lily looked at her perplexedly. She was sure, now, that her visitor'smanner conveyed a threat; but, expert as she was in certain directions,there was nothing in her experience to prepare her for the exactsignificance of the present scene. She felt, however, that it must beended as promptly as possible. “She’s going to give me some gloves,” said Pansy. “It was very simple. It was to be as quiet as possible.” "Oh, yes," returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to arrange this curiousproposition in her mind. "I think so." For answer, her lips replied. "Oh, hang it--because he's fat and shiny, and has a sloppy manner! Well,all I can say is that the people who are clever enough to be civil to himnow will make a mighty good thing of it. A few years from now he'll be init whether we want him or not, and then he won't be giving away ahalf-a-million tip for a dinner." “Isn’t that the right way to feel in the greatest of human temples?” sheasked with rather a liking for her phrase. "Suppose we didn't have time to get married here?" he added, anafterthought striking him. “It’s being none whatever is just why I can afford to speak. It’s somuch less my business than any one’s else that he can put me off withanything he chooses. But it will be by the way he does this that I shallknow.” His light tone, in which, had her nerves been steadier, she would haverecognized the mere effort to bridge over an awkward moment, jarred onher passionate desire to be understood. In her strange state ofextra-lucidity, which gave her the sense of being already at the heart ofthe situation, it seemed incredible that any one should think itnecessary to linger in the conventional outskirts of word-play andevasion. The door closed on Gerty, and he stood alone with the motionless sleeperon the bed. His impulse was to return to her side, to fall on his knees,and rest his throbbing head against the peaceful cheek on the pillow.They had never been at peace together, they two; and now he felt himselfdrawn downward into the strange mysterious depths of her tranquillity. "_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. "Oh, yes, sir. I know her." "I believe I'll turn in," said the man. "That's too bad," he said, stepping away and adjusting his vest afterhis slight bending over. "I was thinking we might go to a showto-night." “You must have made extensive calculations yourself to discover that.” "I must get out of this," he thought. “You’ll probably understand it even less as time goes on. There are somethings you’ll never understand. There’s no particular need you should.” "If I were you," went on Drouet, ignoring her last remark, "I wouldn'thave anything to do with him. He's a married man, you know." "I couldn't get home," he said, when he came in later in the evening, "Iwas so busy." Carrie's new state was remarkable in that she saw possibilities in it.She was no sensualist, longing to drowse sleepily in the lap of luxury.She turned about, troubled by her daring, glad of her release, wonderingwhether she would get something to do, wondering what Drouet would do.That worthy had his future fixed for him beyond a peradventure. He couldnot help what he was going to do. He could not see clearly enough towish to do differently. He was drawn by his innate desire to act the oldpursuing part. He would need to delight himself with Carrie as surely ashe would need to eat his heavy breakfast. He might suffer the leastrudimentary twinge of conscience in whatever he did, and in just so farhe was evil and sinning. But whatever twinges of conscience he mighthave would be rudimentary, you may be sure. She had reached home early and went in the front room to think. Whatcould she do? She could not buy new shoes and wear them here. She wouldneed to save part of the twenty to pay her fare home. She did not wantto borrow of Minnie for that. And yet, how could she explain where sheeven got that money? If she could only get enough to let her out easy. “So that perhaps I should never have known my uncle? It’s a greathappiness to me to have come now.” "You were not well; I am so glad you came here," Gerty returned. "That's right," said the drummer. She had received an appreciable shock, but as it died away she felt thatshe couldn’t pretend to herself that it was altogether a painful one.Nevertheless she made answer to his declaration, coldly enough, “Just asyou please.” And her coldness was not the calculation of her effect--agame she played in a much smaller degree than would have seemed probableto many critics. It came from a certain fear. "You think," he said, "I am happy; that I ought not to complain? If youwere to meet all day with people who care absolutely nothing about you,if you went day after day to a place where there was nothing but showand indifference, if there was not one person in all those you knew towhom you could appeal for sympathy or talk to with pleasure, perhaps youwould be unhappy too." "What's the use of acting like that now, Cad?" insisted the drummer,stopping in his work and putting up a hand expressively. "You might letme know where I stand, at least." She knelt down, and the flame leapt under her rapid hands. It flashedstrangely through the tears which still blurred her eyes, and smote onthe white ruin of Lily's face. The girls looked at each other in silence;then Lily repeated: "I couldn't go home." “You’re not the judge. I can’t trust you,” said Isabel. “If I didn’t already like her very much that description might alarmme,” Isabel returned. One was from Mrs. Trenor, who announced that she was coming to town thatafternoon for a flying visit, and hoped Miss Bart would be able to dinewith her. The other was from Selden. He wrote briefly that an importantcase called him to Albany, whence he would be unable to return till theevening, and asked Lily to let him know at what hour on the following dayshe would see him. "I wish I hadn't done that," he said. "That was a mistake." She went toward him, and put out her hand, still smiling. "Will you lether stay with you?" she asked. “Very fond of them indeed.” "I didn't intend to," he answered, easily. “It’s time then you should make another. There’s a friend of mine I wantyou to know.” “Will you really think of it? That’s what I wish to be sure of.” Her visitors flushed, and her cousin told her, after they were gone,that if she said such things to those poor girls they would think shewas in some wild, free manner practising on them: he was sure it was thefirst time they had been called enchanting. “By whom, pray? By me? If so I do her a poor service.” “I shall not do it then; I shall never fall in love but on yourrecommendation. Moreover,” Isabel added, “my cousin gives me rather asad account of Lord Warburton.” “No--though at first I think she’d plunge into that pretty freely: she’dprobably make over a part of it to each of her sisters. But after thatshe’d come to her senses, remember she has still a lifetime before her,and live within her means.” She wondered what could induce him to go alone. There was something backof this. She rummaged her brain for a reason. Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more. "We won't stay here long," said Hurstwood, who was now really glad tonote her dissatisfaction. "You pick out your clothes as soon asbreakfast is over and we'll run down to New York soon. You'll like that.It's a lot more like a city than any place outside Chicago." “You had better leave us alone then,” smiled Madame Merle. So now, the house, to his mind, had a most pleasing and comfortableappearance. In the hall he found an evening paper, laid there by themaid and forgotten by Mrs. Hurstwood. In the dining-room the table wasclean laid with linen and napery and shiny with glasses and decoratedchina. Through an open door he saw into the kitchen, where the fire wascrackling in the stove and the evening meal already well under way. Outin the small back yard was George, Jr., frolicking with a young dog hehad recently purchased, and in the parlour Jessica was playing at thepiano, the sounds of a merry waltz filling every nook and corner of thecomfortable home. Every one, like himself, seemed to have regained hisgood spirits, to be in sympathy with youth and beauty, to be inclined tojoy and merry-making. He felt as if he could say a good word all aroundhimself, and took a most genial glance at the spread table and polishedsideboard before going upstairs to read his paper in the comfortablearm-chair of the sitting-room which looked through the open windows intothe street. When he entered there, however, he found his wife brushingher hair and musing to herself the while. But she was alone. That was the greater thought just at present. Howabout that? Would she go out to work again? Would she begin to lookaround in the business district? The stage! Oh, yes. Drouet had spokenabout that. Was there any hope there? She moved to and fro, in deep andvaried thoughts, while the minutes slipped away and night fellcompletely. She had had nothing to eat, and yet there she sat, thinkingit over. Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, a little dizzy,and very thirsty. On the way to the small space portioned off by wood,where all the wraps and lunches were kept, she encountered the foreman,who stared at her hard. "Never mind what you were just. Keep your ears open." Frequently there were two-story frame houses standing out in the openfields, without fence or trees, lone outposts of the approaching army ofhomes. In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened his mail, butthere was nothing in it outside the ordinary run. For some reason hefelt as if something might come that way, and was relieved when all theenvelopes had been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began tofeel the appetite that had been wanting before he had reached theoffice, and decided before going out to the park to meet Carrie to dropin at the Grand Pacific and have a pot of coffee and some rolls. Whilethe danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialised, and withhim no news was good news. If he could only get plenty of time to think,perhaps something would turn up. Surely, surely, this thing would notdrift along to catastrophe and he not find a way out. Carrie looked at him tenderly. She could have laid her head upon hisshoulder, so delightful did it all seem. He had taken off his hat; he passed his hand over his forehead. “Ialways forget; I’m out of the habit.” "I had enough of it yesterday," said the other. "I wouldn't want asteady job of this." “The cleverest woman I know, not excepting yourself,” said Ralph. "Lily has been a tremendous success here," Mrs. Fisher continued, stilladdressing herself confidentially to Selden. "She looks ten yearsyounger--I never saw her so handsome. Lady Skiddaw took her everywhere inCannes, and the Crown Princess of Macedonia had her to stop for a week atCimiez. People say that was one reason why Bertha whisked the yacht offto Sicily: the Crown Princess didn't take much notice of her, and shecouldn't bear to look on at Lily's triumph." Thus was Hurstwood installed in the Broadway Central, but not for long.He was in no shape or mood to do the scrub work that exists about thefoundation of every hotel. Nothing better offering, he was set to aidthe fireman, to work about the basement, to do anything and everythingthat might offer. Porters, cooks, firemen, clerks--all were over him.Moreover his appearance did not please these individuals--his temper wastoo lonely--and they made it disagreeable for him. It was easy enough to do. Carrie scowled. The effect was something soquaint and droll it caught even the manager. "How are you?" he said, easily. "I could not resist the temptation tocome out this afternoon, it was so pleasant." "This store closes at one on Saturdays," was a pleasing and satisfactorylegend to see upon doors which she felt she ought to enter and inquirefor work. It gave her an excuse, and after encountering quite a numberof them, and noting that the clock registered 12.15, she decided that itwould be no use to seek further to-day, so she got on a car and went toLincoln Park. There was always something to see there--the flowers, theanimals, the lake--and she flattered herself that on Monday she would beup betimes and searching. Besides, many things might happen between nowand Monday. "I can't see how I can possibly be of any help to you," she murmured,drawing back a little from the mounting excitement of his look. Then something like a bereaved affection and self-pity swept over him. "Ah----" he murmured, his head drooping again, and his irresolute handswitching at the underbrush along the lane. But as Lily made a movementto pass on, he broke out with fresh vehemence: "Miss Bart, for God's sakedon't turn from me! We used to be good friends--you were always kind tome--and you don't know how I need a friend now." "Well enough," she said, still somewhat reduced after Drouet. "How long are you in town this time?" inquired Hurstwood. Each day he could read in the evening papers of the doings within thiswalled city. In the notices of passengers for Europe he read the namesof eminent frequenters of his old resort. In the theatrical columnappeared, from time to time, announcements of the latest successes ofmen he had known. He knew that they were at their old gayeties. Pullmanswere hauling them to and fro about the land, papers were greeting themwith interesting mentions, the elegant lobbies of hotels and the glow ofpolished dining-rooms were keeping them close within the walled city.Men whom he had known, men whom he had tipped glasses with--rich men,and he was forgotten! Who was Mr. Wheeler? What was the Warren Streetresort? Bah! "Good," said Drouet; "fine; out o' sight! You're all right, Caddie, Itell you." “I’ll get you a hansom if you’ll trust me,” Mr. Bantling went on. He continued to stand before her, in his dogged weakness. "Is it--need itbe? Mightn't there be circumstances----?" he checked himself, slashing atthe wayside weeds in a wider radius. Then he began again: "Miss Bart,listen--give me a minute. If we're not to meet again, at least let mehave a hearing now. You say we can't be friends after--after what hashappened. But can't I at least appeal to your pity? Can't I move you if Iask you to think of me as a prisoner--a prisoner you alone can set free?" “Ah, that’s the great thing,” said Isabel, smiling and suspecting thather acquaintance with this lightly flitting personage would not lead tointellectual repose. If the Countess objected to argument Isabel at thismoment had as little taste for it, and she put out her hand to Pansywith a pleasant sense that such a gesture committed her to nothing thatwould admit of a divergence of views. Gilbert Osmond apparently took arather hopeless view of his sister’s tone; he turned the conversation toanother topic. He presently sat down on the other side of his daughter,who had shyly brushed Isabel’s fingers with her own; but he ended bydrawing her out of her chair and making her stand between his knees,leaning against him while he passed his arm round her slimness. Thechild fixed her eyes on Isabel with a still, disinterested gaze whichseemed void of an intention, yet conscious of an attraction. Mr. Osmondtalked of many things; Madame Merle had said he could be agreeablewhen he chose, and to-day, after a little, he appeared not only to havechosen but to have determined. Madame Merle and the Countess Gemini sata little apart, conversing in the effortless manner of persons who kneweach other well enough to take their ease; but every now and then Isabelheard the Countess, at something said by her companion, plunge into thelatter’s lucidity as a poodle splashes after a thrown stick. It was asif Madame Merle were seeing how far she would go. Mr. Osmond talked ofFlorence, of Italy, of the pleasure of living in that country and of theabatements to the pleasure. There were both satisfactions and drawbacks;the drawbacks were numerous; strangers were too apt to see such a worldas all romantic. It met the case soothingly for the human, for thesocial failure--by which he meant the people who couldn’t “realise,” asthey said, on their sensibility: they could keep it about them there,in their poverty, without ridicule, as you might keep an heirloom or aninconvenient entailed place that brought you in nothing. Thus there wereadvantages in living in the country which contained the greatest sum ofbeauty. Certain impressions you could get only there. Others, favourableto life, you never got, and you got some that were very bad. But fromtime to time you got one of a quality that made up for everything.Italy, all the same, had spoiled a great many people; he was evenfatuous enough to believe at times that he himself might have been abetter man if he had spent less of his life there. It made one idle anddilettantish and second-rate; it had no discipline for the character,didn’t cultivate in you, otherwise expressed, the successful socialand other “cheek” that flourished in Paris and London. “We’re sweetlyprovincial,” said Mr. Osmond, “and I’m perfectly aware that I myself amas rusty as a key that has no lock to fit it. It polishes me up a littleto talk with you--not that I venture to pretend I can turn that verycomplicated lock I suspect your intellect of being! But you’ll be goingaway before I’ve seen you three times, and I shall perhaps never see youafter that. That’s what it is to live in a country that people come to.When they’re disagreeable here it’s bad enough; when they’re agreeableit’s still worse. As soon as you like them they’re off again! I’ve beendeceived too often; I’ve ceased to form attachments, to permit myselfto feel attractions. You mean to stay--to settle? That would be reallycomfortable. Ah yes, your aunt’s a sort of guarantee; I believe she maybe depended on. Oh, she’s an old Florentine; I mean literally an oldone; not a modern outsider. She’s a contemporary of the Medici; she musthave been present at the burning of Savonarola, and I’m not sure shedidn’t throw a handful of chips into the flame. Her face is very muchlike some faces in the early pictures; little, dry, definite faces thatmust have had a good deal of expression, but almost always the same one.Indeed I can show you her portrait in a fresco of Ghirlandaio’s. I hopeyou don’t object to my speaking that way of your aunt, eh? I’ve an ideayou don’t. Perhaps you think that’s even worse. I assure you there’sno want of respect in it, to either of you. You know I’m a particularadmirer of Mrs. Touchett.” Isabel gazed at her cousin again. “I don’t know what you mean. You meansomething--that you don’t mean. What was Monsieur Merle?” "I know you won't," she remarked, half truthfully. “I care nothing for Gardencourt,” said her companion. “I care only foryou.” Carrie thought a while. Having been accustomed to take herself at the popular valuation, as aperson of energy and resource, naturally fitted to dominate any situationin which she found herself, she vaguely imagined that such gifts would beof value to seekers after social guidance; but there was unfortunately nospecific head under which the art of saying and doing the right thingcould be offered in the market, and even Mrs. Fisher's resourcefulnessfailed before the difficulty of discovering a workable vein in the vaguewealth of Lily's graces. Mrs. Fisher was full of indirect expedients forenabling her friends to earn a living, and could conscientiously assertthat she had put several opportunities of this kind before Lily; but morelegitimate methods of bread-winning were as much out of her line as theywere beyond the capacity of the sufferers she was generally called uponto assist. Lily's failure to profit by the chances already afforded hermight, moreover, have justified the abandonment of farther effort on herbehalf; but Mrs. Fisher's inexhaustible good-nature made her an adept atcreating artificial demands in response to an actual supply. In thepursuance of this end she at once started on a voyage of discovery inMiss Bart's behalf; and as the result of her explorations she nowsummoned the latter with the announcement that she had "found something." She drew back with a quick gesture of rejection, saying, in a voice thatwas a surprise to her own ears: "You are mistaken--quite mistaken--bothin the facts and in what you infer from them." Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a moneyed man. He onlycraved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such doings seemed to hima part of the best. Rector's, with its polished marble walls and floor,its profusion of lights, its show of china and silverware, and, aboveall, its reputation as a resort for actors and professional men, seemedto him the proper place for a successful man to go. He loved fineclothes, good eating, and particularly the company and acquaintanceshipof successful men. When dining, it was a source of keen satisfaction tohim to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come to this same place,or that Henry E. Dixie, a well-known performer of the day, was then onlya few tables off. At Rector's he could always obtain this satisfaction,for there one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, some richyoung "rounders" of the town, all eating and drinking amid a buzz ofpopular commonplace conversation. “I acted for the best. I only hope you acted as well.” Grace Stepney laughed outright. "Dear me, no! He would hardly do that.It--it's a flirtation--nothing more." "I think we had better go right on through to Montreal," he said toCarrie. "I'll see what the connections are when we get off." “For any one but yourself,” Madame Merle mentally observed; but thereflexion was perfectly inaudible. One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, handed him a five-centpiece. "I know how you feel about it," exclaimed Mr. Withers, halting. "Butjust let me explain. I said those are our regular rates. Like everyother hotel we make special ones, however. Possibly you have not thoughtabout it, but your name is worth something to us." They had been dawdling over the dishes, and their eyes had frequentlymet. Carrie could not help but feel the vibration of force whichfollowed, which, indeed, was his gaze. He had a way of touching her handin explanation, as if to impress a fact upon her. He touched it now ashe spoke of going. "Did you ever hear any more from that wholesale house?" Drouet turned to the subject of the clothes she was going to buy. "If you'd only let me, I'd set you up over them all--I'd put you whereyou could wipe your feet on 'em!" he declared; and it touched her oddlyto see that his new passion had not altered his old standard of values. “She didn’t see me; she wrote to me.” They had gradually stopped and they stood a moment face to face. “PoorLord Warburton!” she said with a compassion intended to be good for bothof them. Lily tossed aside the note and subsided on her pillows with a sigh. ItWAS a bore to be down by ten--an hour regarded at Bellomont as vaguelysynchronous with sunrise--and she knew too well the nature of thetiresome things in question. Miss Pragg, the secretary, had been calledaway, and there would be notes and dinner-cards to write, lost addressesto hunt up, and other social drudgery to perform. It was understood thatMiss Bart should fill the gap in such emergencies, and she usuallyrecognized the obligation without a murmur. "Were you ever on the stage?" he asked insinuatingly. “I don’t know, however,” said Caspar Goodwood, “that my keeping you insight would prevent it.” "That shows how seldom you come there. Why don't you come oftener?" "I have something here that you might like to see, Miss Bart." She spokethe name with an unpleasant emphasis, as though her knowing it made apart of her reason for being there. To Lily the intonation sounded like athreat. "I call about my bill," said Mr. Oeslogge. “Has he known Miss Archer long?” "But you look so tired: I'm sure you must be ill----" Carrie swallowed this story in all its pristine beauty. She sincerelywished he could get through the summer. He looked so hopeless. “Find out--?” Ralph asked. "I don't know," she said, when he had ceased to speak, "why you imagineme to be situated as you describe; but as you have always told me thatthe sole object of a bringing-up like mine was to teach a girl to getwhat she wants, why not assume that that is precisely what I am doing?" “I remember his making the remark. He spoke perhaps of Americansgenerally.” “Do you call this meeting? I hoped I shouldn’t see you. In so big aplace as London it seemed very possible.” "DENOUEMENT--isn't that too big a word for such a small incident? Theworst of it, after all, is the fatigue which Bertha has probably sleptoff by this time." “Now I suppose you’re speaking of me,” said Isabel with humility; andshe turned away again, for she saw Miss Molyneux enter the gallery,accompanied by Henrietta and by Ralph. Isabel shook her head; there might have been something laughable in thefact that she did it with a touch of melancholy. “I shall never make anyone a martyr.” Carrie left him, feeling as though a great arm had slipped out beforeher to draw off trouble. The money she had accepted was two soft, green,handsome ten-dollar bills. "No more to-night?" In the peacock-blue parlour, with its bunches of dried pampas grass, anddiscoloured steel engravings of sentimental episodes, he looked about himwith unconcealed disgust, laying his hat distrustfully on the dustyconsole adorned with a Rogers statuette. Miss Stepney, when her first fright had subsided, began to feel thesuperiority that greater breadth of mind confers. It was really pitiableto be as ignorant of the world as Mrs. Peniston! She smiled at thelatter's question. "People always say unpleasant things--and certainlythey're a great deal together. A friend of mine met them the otherafternoon in the Park--quite late, after the lamps were lit. It's a pityLily makes herself so conspicuous." A carriage went jingling by with some reclining figure in it. One of themen nearest the door saw it. “That’s not what I mean,” said Madame Merle. “Miss Archer has seventythousand pounds.” "Is Mrs. Drouet in?" “I don’t see what Mr. Bantling could do to you,” Isabel obliginglyanswered; “but, if you like, we’ll walk with you till you find yourcab.” "Is it the Casino show you told me about?" "Yes, and you," she added, catching the eye of one of the policemen."You bloody, murtherin' thafe! Crack my son over the head, will you, youhard-hearted, murtherin' divil? Ah, ye----" "Oh, it's as fine as it can be." A secret hoard of indifference--like a thick cake a fond old nurse mighthave slipped into his first school outfit--came to his aid and helped toreconcile him to sacrifice; since at the best he was too ill for aughtbut that arduous game. As he said to himself, there was really nothinghe had wanted very much to do, so that he had at least not renounced thefield of valour. At present, however, the fragrance of forbidden fruitseemed occasionally to float past him and remind him that the finest ofpleasures is the rush of action. Living as he now lived was like readinga good book in a poor translation--a meagre entertainment for a youngman who felt that he might have been an excellent linguist. He had goodwinters and poor winters, and while the former lasted he was sometimesthe sport of a vision of virtual recovery. But this vision was dispelledsome three years before the occurrence of the incidents with which thishistory opens: he had on that occasion remained later than usual inEngland and had been overtaken by bad weather before reaching Algiers.He arrived more dead than alive and lay there for several weeks betweenlife and death. His convalescence was a miracle, but the first use hemade of it was to assure himself that such miracles happen but once. Hesaid to himself that his hour was in sight and that it behoved him tokeep his eyes upon it, yet that it was also open to him to spend theinterval as agreeably as might be consistent with such a preoccupation.With the prospect of losing them the simple use of his faculties becamean exquisite pleasure; it seemed to him the joys of contemplation hadnever been sounded. He was far from the time when he had found it hardthat he should be obliged to give up the idea of distinguishing himself;an idea none the less importunate for being vague and none the lessdelightful for having had to struggle in the same breast with burstsof inspiring self-criticism. His friends at present judged him morecheerful, and attributed it to a theory, over which they shook theirheads knowingly, that he would recover his health. His serenity was butthe array of wild flowers niched in his ruin. At her room, the wording of this missive occupied her for some time, forshe fell to the task at once. It was most difficult. "All right," said Drouet, brightening. "Where are you stopping?" “He would have told me everything I wished to ask him,” Isabel said. "The paper said four men were hurt yesterday." Mrs. Fisher drew Lily toward the hansom with friendly authority. "Jumpin now, there's a dear, and we'll drive round to your hotel and have yourthings packed, and then we'll have tea, and the two maids can meet us atthe train." “She strikes me as very natural,” said Ralph. The light projected on the situation by Mrs. Fisher had the cheerlessdistinctness of a winter dawn. It outlined the facts with a coldprecision unmodified by shade or colour, and refracted, as it were, fromthe blank walls of the surrounding limitations: she had opened windowsfrom which no sky was ever visible. But the idealist subdued to vulgarnecessities must employ vulgar minds to draw the inferences to which hecannot stoop; and it was easier for Lily to let Mrs. Fisher formulate hercase than to put it plainly to herself. Once confronted with it, however,she went the full length of its consequences; and these had never beenmore clearly present to her than when, the next afternoon, she set outfor a walk with Rosedale. By his tact he made Drouet feel that he admired his choice. There wassomething in his manner that showed that he was pleased to be there.Drouet felt really closer to him than ever before. It gave him morerespect for Carrie. Her appearance came into a new light, underHurstwood's appreciation. The situation livened considerably. "Here you are," said the man, handing him one. For days this apparition was a drag on her soul before it began to wearpartially away. Drouet called again, but now he was not even seen byher. His attentions seemed out of place. His dinner cost him $1.50. By eight o'clock he was through, and then,seeing guests leaving and the crowd of pleasure-seekers thickeningoutside, wondered where he should go. Not home. Carrie would be up. No,he would not go back there this evening. He would stay out and knockaround as a man who was independent--not broke--well might. He bought acigar, and went outside on the corner where other individuals werelounging--brokers, racing people, thespians--his own flesh and blood. Ashe stood there, he thought of the old evenings in Chicago, and how heused to dispose of them. Many's the game he had had. This took him topoker. “Do you mean because I’m a banker?” asked the old man. “Yes, but Henrietta’s a simpler one still. And, pray, what am I to do?” Isabel asked, looking about her through the fading light, in which thelimited landscape-gardening of the square took on a large and effectiveappearance. “I don’t imagine that you’ll propose that you and I, for ouramusement, shall drive about London in a hansom.” “It surely depends upon the person. When the person’s good, your makingthings easy is all to the credit of virtue. To facilitate the executionof good impulses, what can be a nobler act?” A startled look ran from eye to eye; Mrs. Bry crimsoned to the verge ofcongestion, Mrs. Stepney slipped nervously behind her husband, andSelden, in the general turmoil of his sensations, was mainly conscious ofa longing to grip Dabham by the collar and fling him out into the street. "Say," said Drouet, coming over to her after a few moments, with a newidea, and putting his hand upon her. To say the truth, Carrie did unconsciously move about with an airpleasing and somewhat distinctive. It was due wholly to her naturalmanner and total lack of self-consciousness. For the first time in years the thought that he must count these littleexpenses flashed through his mind. It was a disagreeable thing. "You know," he said, putting his hand on her arm, and keeping a strangesilence while he formulated words, "that I love you?" She returned a sympathetic enquiry, and gradually he was drawn on to talkof his latest purchases. It was the one subject which enabled him toforget himself, or allowed him, rather, to remember himself withoutconstraint, because he was at home in it, and could assert a superioritythat there were few to dispute. Hardly any of his acquaintances cared forAmericana, or knew anything about them; and the consciousness of thisignorance threw Mr. Gryce's knowledge into agreeable relief. The onlydifficulty was to introduce the topic and to keep it to the front; mostpeople showed no desire to have their ignorance dispelled, and Mr. Grycewas like a merchant whose warehouses are crammed with an unmarketablecommodity. "Wasn't it dear of Lily to get me an invitation? Of course it would neverhave occurred to Carry Fisher to put me on the list, and I should havebeen so sorry to miss seeing it all--and especially Lily herself. Someone told me the ceiling was by Veronese--you would know, of course,Lawrence. I suppose it's very beautiful, but his women are so dreadfullyfat. Goddesses? Well, I can only say that if they'd been mortals and hadto wear corsets, it would have been better for them. I think our womenare much handsomer. And this room is wonderfully becoming--every onelooks so well! Did you ever see such jewels? Do look at Mrs. GeorgeDorset's pearls--I suppose the smallest of them would pay the rent of ourGirls' Club for a year. Not that I ought to complain about the club;every one has been so wonderfully kind. Did I tell you that Lily hadgiven us three hundred dollars? Wasn't it splendid of her? And then shecollected a lot of money from her friends--Mrs. Bry gave us five hundred,and Mr. Rosedale a thousand. I wish Lily were not so nice to Mr.Rosedale, but she says it's no use being rude to him, because he doesn'tsee the difference. She really can't bear to hurt people's feelings--itmakes me so angry when I hear her called cold and conceited! The girls atthe club don't call her that. Do you know she has been there with metwice?--yes, Lily! And you should have seen their eyes! One of them saidit was as good as a day in the country just to look at her. And she satthere, and laughed and talked with them--not a bit as if she were beingCHARITABLE, you know, but as if she liked it as much as they did. They'vebeen asking ever since when she's coming back; and she's promisedme----oh!" “Did he tell you so?” The two sisters exchanged an almost frightened glance. “Do you mean--doyou mean on account of the expense?” the younger one asked. “That’s to your glory.” At least it opened the way to a lively explanation of how the Duchesswas, in fact, going back the next moment, but had first rushed out to theyacht for a word with Mrs. Dorset on the subject of tomorrow'sdinner--the dinner with the Brys, to which Lord Hubert had finallyinsisted on dragging them. As she turned homeward her thoughts shrank in anticipation from the factthat there would be nothing to get up for the next morning. The luxury oflying late in bed was a pleasure belonging to the life of ease; it had nopart in the utilitarian existence of the boarding-house. She liked toleave her room early, and to return to it as late as possible; and shewas walking slowly now in order to postpone the detested approach to herdoorstep. It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work froma hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town atthat season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might haveinferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one andanother of the country-houses which disputed her presence after the closeof the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stoodapart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or thestreet, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised,be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that shewas waiting for some one, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him.There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her withouta faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that shealways roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result offar-reaching intentions. "Don't you think you could love me a little?" he pleaded, taking one ofher hands, which she endeavoured to draw away. "You once said you did." "What time?" She was gazing now sadly out upon the open sea, her arm restinglistlessly upon the polished door-post. She broke off suddenly. Her tears had risen again, and in drawing out herhandkerchief her fingers touched the packet in the folds of her dress. Awave of colour suffused her, and the words died on her lips. Then shelifted her eyes to his and went on in an altered voice. "We might try it," he suggested. "I've been thinking that if we'd take asmaller flat down town and live economically for a year, I would haveenough, with what I have invested, to open a good place. Then we couldarrange to live as you want to." "Where did you go this morning?" he finally asked weakly. Hurstwood saw it all clearly enough. He was shrewd after his kind, andyet there was enough decency in the man to stop him from making anyeffectual protest. In his almost inexplicable apathy he was content todroop supinely while Carrie drifted out of his life, just as he waswilling supinely to see opportunity pass beyond his control. He couldnot help clinging and protesting in a mild, irritating, and ineffectualway, however--a way that simply widened the breach by slow degrees. "That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and touching hisname. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father'sside." "I don't want to get out," said Hurstwood. "When I get ready there'll benothing to stop me for." Her wonder was at once replaced by the more subtle quality of suspicion. “Ah, my sister, sometimes,” murmured the junior votaress. "Drouet is a good fellow," Hurstwood thought to himself as he went backinto his office, "but he's no man for Carrie." Later, however, his old discretion asserted itself. Something had to bedone. A climax was near and she would not sit idle. He knew her wellenough to know that when she had decided upon a plan she would follow itup. Possibly matters would go into a lawyer's hands at once. "I thought you were going to be busy," she remarked, very carefully. To Gerty Farish's hopeful spirit a solution appeared to have been reachedwhen she remembered how beautifully Lily could trim hats. Instances ofyoung lady-milliners establishing themselves under fashionable patronage,and imparting to their "creations" that indefinable touch which theprofessional hand can never give, had flattered Gerty's visions of thefuture, and convinced even Lily that her separation from Mrs. Norma Hatchneed not reduce her to dependence on her friends. “Yes, sir,” the visitor gently replied. “I speak to the pupils in myown tongue. I know no other. But we have sisters of othercountries--English, German, Irish. They all speak their properlanguage.” He leaned forward to put his elbows upon the back of her seat andproceeded to make himself volubly agreeable. "It wasn't meant to be disagreeable," he returned amicably. "Isn'tmarriage your vocation? Isn't it what you're all brought up for?" “Oh dear, I’m quite alone, I’ve nothing on earth to do. I had noidea you were in Rome. I’ve just come from the East. I’m only passingthrough.” Madame Merle meditated. “Useful colours.” "Yes," she said, nodding her head. "And then if that little real estate deal I've got on goes through,we'll get married," he said with a great show of earnestness, the whilehe took his place before the mirror and began brushing his hair. "Doesn't he?" said Carrie. "I won't do it any more after this." "The part of Katisha, the country maid, in 'The Wives of Abdul' at the Broadway, heretofore played by Inez Carew, will be hereafter filled by Carrie Madenda, one of the cleverest members of the chorus." "That's steep, isn't it?" he answered. George Dorset's talk did not interfere with the range of his neighbour'sthoughts. He was a mournful dyspeptic, intent on finding out thedeleterious ingredients of every dish and diverted from this care only bythe sound of his wife's voice. On this occasion, however, Mrs. Dorsettook no part in the general conversation. She sat talking in low murmurswith Selden, and turning a contemptuous and denuded shoulder toward herhost, who, far from resenting his exclusion, plunged into the excesses ofthe MENU with the joyous irresponsibility of a free man. To Mr. Dorset,however, his wife's attitude was a subject of such evident concern that,when he was not scraping the sauce from his fish, or scooping the moistbread-crumbs from the interior of his roll, he sat straining his thinneck for a glimpse of her between the lights. Remembering Mrs. Vance's promise to call, Carrie made one other mildprotest. It was concerning Hurstwood's appearance. This very day, cominghome, he changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in. Lily flushed under the shadow of her drooping hair. "The world is toovile," she murmured, averting herself from Mrs. Fisher's anxious scrutiny. "Is it?" said Carrie. "You wouldn't mind it if you were working," she answered. They now ran into the business heart of Brooklyn uninterrupted. Peoplegazed at the broken windows of the car and at Hurstwood in his plainclothes. Voices called "scab" now and then, as well as other epithets,but no crowd attacked the car. At the down-town end of the line, one ofthe officers went to call up his station and report the trouble. In the morning Carrie scarcely spoke, and he felt as if he must go outagain. He had treated her badly, but he could not afford to make up. Nowdesperation seized him, and for a day or two, going out thus, he livedlike a gentleman--or what he conceived to be a gentleman--which tookmoney. For his escapades he was soon poorer in mind and body, to saynothing of his purse, which had lost thirty by the process. Then he camedown to cold, bitter sense again. He tried to put on an air of deliberation, as one who might really buy;but his eyes showed gloom. He wound up by saying he would think it over,and came away. The man he had been talking to sensed his condition in avague way. The New York winter had presented an interminable perspective ofsnow-burdened days, reaching toward a spring of raw sunshine and furiousair, when the ugliness of things rasped the eye as the gritty wind groundinto the skin. Selden, immersed in his work, had told himself thatexternal conditions did not matter to a man in his state, and that coldand ugliness were a good tonic for relaxed sensibilities. When an urgentcase summoned him abroad to confer with a client in Paris, he brokereluctantly with the routine of the office; and it was only now that,having despatched his business, and slipped away for a week in the south,he began to feel the renewed zest of spectatorship that is the solace ofthose who take an objective interest in life. Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced. Slowly, exceedingly slowly, his desire to greet, conciliate, and make athome these people who visited the Warren Street place passed from him.More and more slowly the significance of the realm he had left began tobe clear. It did not seem so wonderful to be in it when he was in it. Ithad seemed very easy for any one to get up there and have ample raimentand money to spend, but now that he was out of it, how far off itbecame. He began to see as one sees a city with a wall about it. Menwere posted at the gates. You could not get in. Those inside did notcare to come out to see who you were. They were so merry inside therethat all those outside were forgotten, and he was on the outside. The drummer pinched his lip nervously. "Couldn't you have sent me word?" asked Carrie. "It's not her fault if everybody don't know it now," growled Trenor,flushed with the struggle of getting into his fur-lined coat. "Damned badtaste, I call it--no, no cigar for me. You can't tell what you're smokingin one of these new houses--likely as not the CHEF buys the cigars. Stayfor supper? Not if I know it! When people crowd their rooms so that youcan't get near any one you want to speak to, I'd as soon sup in theelevated at the rush hour. My wife was dead right to stay away: she sayslife's too short to spend it in breaking in new people." Hurstwood hearkened without much mental comment. These talkers seemedscared to him. Their gabbling was feverish--things said to quiet theirown minds. He looked out into the yard and waited. "Where shall I find Mr. Gray?" she asked of a sulky doorman at the stageentrance of the Casino. "By damn, I wish they'd hurry up." "But it is only the Wetheralls and Carry," she resumed, with a fresh noteof lament. "The truth is, I'm awfully disappointed in Lady CressidaRaith." "Pretty well done--well, yes, I suppose it was: Welly Bry's got his backup and don't mean to let go till he's got the hang of the thing. Ofcourse, there were things here and there--things Mrs. Fisher couldn't beexpected to see to--the champagne wasn't cold, and the coats got mixed inthe coat-room. I would have spent more money on the music. But that's mycharacter: if I want a thing I'm willing to pay: I don't go up to thecounter, and then wonder if the article's worth the price. I wouldn't besatisfied to entertain like the Welly Brys; I'd want something that wouldlook more easy and natural, more as if I took it in my stride. And ittakes just two things to do that, Miss Bart: money, and the right womanto spend it." "All right," he said to himself, with an irrepressible frown, "let hersleep alone." "I only got a half-pound of steak," he said, coming in one afternoonwith his papers. "We never seem to eat very much." "Think," he said, "what I've given up. I can't go back to Chicago anymore. I've got to stay away and live alone now, if you don't come withme. You won't go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?" "I don't know," answered Carrie. Hurstwood, on the contrary, saw in the strength of her newattractiveness his miserable predicament. He could have cursed the manbeside him. By the Lord, he could not even applaud feelingly as hewould. For once he must simulate when it left a taste in his mouth. Madame Merle took a sheet of music--she was seated at the piano andhad abruptly wheeled about on the stool when she first spoke--andmechanically turned the leaves. “I’m very ambitious!” she at lastreplied. "No, where?" said Drouet. "Thank you," returned the manager, and, tipping his hat slightly, wentaway. Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeablethan the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea. Thereare circumstances in which, whether you partake of the tea or not--somepeople of course never do,--the situation is in itself delightful. Thosethat I have in mind in beginning to unfold this simple history offeredan admirable setting to an innocent pastime. The implements ofthe little feast had been disposed upon the lawn of an old Englishcountry-house, in what I should call the perfect middle of a splendidsummer afternoon. Part of the afternoon had waned, but much of it wasleft, and what was left was of the finest and rarest quality. Real duskwould not arrive for many hours; but the flood of summer light had begunto ebb, the air had grown mellow, the shadows were long upon the smooth,dense turf. They lengthened slowly, however, and the scene expressedthat sense of leisure still to come which is perhaps the chief sourceof one’s enjoyment of such a scene at such an hour. From five o’clock toeight is on certain occasions a little eternity; but on such an occasionas this the interval could be only an eternity of pleasure. The personsconcerned in it were taking their pleasure quietly, and they were notof the sex which is supposed to furnish the regular votaries of theceremony I have mentioned. The shadows on the perfect lawn were straightand angular; they were the shadows of an old man sitting in a deepwicker-chair near the low table on which the tea had been served, andof two younger men strolling to and fro, in desultory talk, in front ofhim. The old man had his cup in his hand; it was an unusually large cup,of a different pattern from the rest of the set and painted in brilliantcolours. He disposed of its contents with much circumspection, holdingit for a long time close to his chin, with his face turned to the house.His companions had either finished their tea or were indifferent totheir privilege; they smoked cigarettes as they continued to stroll.One of them, from time to time, as he passed, looked with a certainattention at the elder man, who, unconscious of observation, rested hiseyes upon the rich red front of his dwelling. The house that rose beyondthe lawn was a structure to repay such consideration and was the mostcharacteristic object in the peculiarly English picture I have attemptedto sketch. The gentleman looked him over and fished for a dime. Nothing butquarters were in his pocket. “I don’t know,” said Ralph. “I’m capable of strange things. Tell me alittle about Mr. Goodwood. What’s he like?” CASPAR GOODWOOD. Yet another suffered the pain of personal rebuke. "I knew it--the parlour-maid never dusts there!" she exclaimed,triumphantly displaying a minute spot on the handkerchief; then,reseating herself, she went on: "Molly thought Mrs. Dorset thebest-dressed woman at the wedding. I've no doubt her dress DID cost morethan any one else's, but I can't quite like the idea--a combination ofsable and POINT DE MILAN. It seems she goes to a new man in Paris, whowon't take an order till his client has spent a day with him at his villaat Neuilly. He says he must study his subject's home life--a mostpeculiar arrangement, I should say! But Mrs. Dorset told Molly about itherself: she said the villa was full of the most exquisite things and shewas really sorry to leave. Molly said she never saw her looking better;she was in tremendous spirits, and said she had made a match between EvieVan Osburgh and Percy Gryce. She really seems to have a very goodinfluence on young men. I hear she is interesting herself now in thatsilly Silverton boy, who has had his head turned by Carry Fisher, and hasbeen gambling so dreadfully. Well, as I was saying, Evie is reallyengaged: Mrs. Dorset had her to stay with Percy Gryce, and managed itall, and Grace Van Osburgh is in the seventh heaven--she had almostdespaired of marrying Evie." “Well then,” said Ralph, “I won’t say it vexes me to see you single. Itdelights me rather.” But Miss Stepney was on the spot in an instant. "That's the worst ofit--people say she isn't wasting her time! Every one knows, as you say,that Lily is too handsome and--and charming--to devote herself to a manlike Gus Trenor unless--" “A niece? The word niece suggests youth and ignorance. I see what you’recoming to.” Madame Merle drew near and considered. “Is it the Venetian Alps--one ofyour last year’s sketches?” “But you do think I’m obstinate and narrow-minded? I told you so!” saidMrs. Touchett with much elation at being justified. Lily's eyes did not falter, but a look of wonder, of puzzledself-interrogation, formed itself slowly in their depths. In the light ofhis question, she had paused to ask herself if her decision had reallybeen taken when she entered the room. She said good-bye with feigned indifference. What matter could it make?Still, the coach seemed lorn. It was in the last act that Carrie's fascination for her lovers assumedits most effective character. The pieces of leather came from the girl at the machine to her right,and were passed on to the girl at her left. Carrie saw at once that anaverage speed was necessary or the work would pile up on her and allthose below would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and bentanxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realised herpredicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much asthey dared, by working slower. "My friend," he said, recognising even in his plight the man'sinferiority, "is there anything about this hotel that I could get todo?" "Now, come on," he said. "What's the matter, George?" asked Taintor. "You look a little glum.Haven't lost at the track, have you?" Lily interrupted her with a deep blush of displeasure. "Please let usdrop the subject, Carry: it's too odious to me." And to divert hercompanion's attention she added, with an attempt at lightness: "And yoursecond candidate? We must not forget him." He took a resolve after this not to misinterpret her words even whenMiss Stackpole appeared to strike the personal note most strongly. Hebethought himself that persons, in her view, were simple and homogeneousorganisms, and that he, for his own part, was too perverted arepresentative of the nature of man to have a right to deal with herin strict reciprocity. He carried out his resolve with a great deal oftact, and the young lady found in renewed contact with him no obstacleto the exercise of her genius for unshrinking enquiry, the generalapplication of her confidence. Her situation at Gardencourt therefore,appreciated as we have seen her to be by Isabel and full of appreciationherself of that free play of intelligence which, to her sense, renderedIsabel’s character a sister-spirit, and of the easy venerableness of Mr.Touchett, whose noble tone, as she said, met with her full approval--hersituation at Gardencourt would have been perfectly comfortable had shenot conceived an irresistible mistrust of the little lady for whom shehad at first supposed herself obliged to “allow” as mistress of thehouse. She presently discovered, in truth, that this obligation was ofthe lightest and that Mrs. Touchett cared very little how Miss Stackpolebehaved. Mrs. Touchett had defined her to Isabel as both an adventuressand a bore--adventuresses usually giving one more of a thrill; she hadexpressed some surprise at her niece’s having selected such a friend,yet had immediately added that she knew Isabel’s friends were her ownaffair and that she had never undertaken to like them all or to restrictthe girl to those she liked. "No," he said, "not where we are going." “Do you need a reward for an act of generosity?” “Not in the usual sense. It’s getting--getting--getting a great deal.But it’s giving up other chances.” The moment he realised that the safe was locked for a surety, the sweatburst out upon his brow and he trembled violently. He looked about himand decided instantly. There was no delaying now. “It makes one want to be touched, Miss Archer,” Lord Warburton declared. “It seems frivolous, I think,” said Isabel. “One ought to choosesomething very deliberately, and be faithful to that.” Carrie was feeling about for a right thought. She was making a mostmiserable showing, and yet feelings were generating within her whichwere anything but crumbling cowardice. "Well, we won't have much more of this weather," he said. "It only takestwo weeks to get to Rome." Hurstwood was too clever to give the slightest indication of a change.He paid, if anything, more attention to his old friend than usual, andyet in no way held him up to that subtle ridicule which a lover infavour may so secretly practise before the mistress of his heart. Ifanything, he felt the injustice of the game as it stood, and was notcheap enough to add to it the slightest mental taunt. When they were in the sitting-room again, where they fitted as snugly asbits in a puzzle, and she had brewed the coffee, and poured it into hergrandmother's egg-shell cups, his eye, as he leaned back, basking in thewarm fragrance, lighted on a recent photograph of Miss Bart, and thedesired transition was effected without an effort. The photograph waswell enough--but to catch her as she had looked last night! Gerty agreedwith him--never had she been so radiant. But could photography capturethat light? There had been a new look in her face--something different;yes, Selden agreed there had been something different. The coffee was soexquisite that he asked for a second cup: such a contrast to the waterystuff at the club! Ah, your poor bachelor with his impersonal club fare,alternating with the equally impersonal CUISINE of the dinner-party! Aman who lived in lodgings missed the best part of life--he pictured theflavourless solitude of Trenor's repast, and felt a moment's compassionfor the man . . . But to return to Lily--and again and again he returned,questioning, conjecturing, leading Gerty on, draining her inmost thoughtsof their stored tenderness for her friend. A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, encountered one of hiswell-dressed lady acquaintances in Chicago on his return from a shorttrip to Omaha. He had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surpriseCarrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation and soonmodified his original intention. In standing about the stage, marching, and occasionally lifting up hervoice in the general chorus, she had a chance to observe the audienceand to see the inauguration of a great hit. There was plenty ofapplause, but she could not help noting how poorly some of the women ofalleged ability did. “Pray do; but I don’t say I shall always think your remonstrance just.” "Why limited? Limited by luncheon?" This little pilgrimage threw quite a wet blanket upon his risingspirits. He was soon down again to his old worry, and reached the resortanxious to find relief. Quite a company of gentlemen were making theplace lively with their conversation. A group of Cook County politicianswere conferring about a round cherry-wood table in the rear portion ofthe room. Several young merry-makers were chattering at the bar beforemaking a belated visit to the theatre. A shabbily-genteel individual,with a red nose and an old high hat, was sipping a quiet glass of alealone at one end of the bar. Hurstwood nodded to the politicians andwent into his office. Carrie noticed this, and in scanning it the price of spring chickencarried her back to that other bill of fare and far different occasionwhen, for the first time, she sat with Drouet in a good restaurant inChicago. It was only momentary--a sad note as out of an old song--andthen it was gone. But in that flash was seen the other Carrie--poor,hungry, drifting at her wits' ends, and all Chicago a cold and closedworld, from which she only wandered because she could not find work. While this sufficiently intimate colloquy (prolonged for some time afterwe cease to follow it) went forward Madame Merle and her companion,breaking a silence of some duration, had begun to exchange remarks.They were sitting in an attitude of unexpressed expectancy; an attitudeespecially marked on the part of the Countess Gemini, who, being of amore nervous temperament than her friend, practised with less successthe art of disguising impatience. What these ladies were waiting forwould not have been apparent and was perhaps not very definite to theirown minds. Madame Merle waited for Osmond to release their young friendfrom her _tête-à-tête_, and the Countess waited because Madame Merle did.The Countess, moreover, by waiting, found the time ripe for one of herpretty perversities. She might have desired for some minutes to placeit. Her brother wandered with Isabel to the end of the garden, to whichpoint her eyes followed them. "A friend of mine from Chicago." "How was the play?" she inquired. “Sir Matthew Hope told me so as plainly as was proper,” she said;“standing there, near the fire, before dinner. He makes himself veryagreeable, the great doctor. I don’t mean his saying that has anythingto do with it. But he says such things with great tact. I had told himI felt ill at my ease, staying here at such a time; it seemed to me soindiscreet--it wasn’t as if I could nurse. ‘You must remain, you mustremain,’ he answered; ‘your office will come later.’ Wasn’t that a verydelicate way of saying both that poor Mr. Touchett would go and that Imight be of some use as a consoler? In fact, however, I shall not be ofthe slightest use. Your aunt will console herself; she, and she alone,knows just how much consolation she’ll require. It would be a verydelicate matter for another person to undertake to administer the dose.With your cousin it will be different; he’ll miss his father immensely.But I should never presume to condole with Mr. Ralph; we’re not onthose terms.” Madame Merle had alluded more than once to some undefinedincongruity in her relations with Ralph Touchett; so Isabel took thisoccasion of asking her if they were not good friends. Thus passed all that was of interest concerning these twain in theirrelation to her. Their influence upon her life is explicable alone bythe nature of her longings. Time was when both represented for her allthat was most potent in earthly success. They were the personalrepresentatives of a state most blessed to attain--the titledambassadors of comfort and peace, aglow with their credentials. It isbut natural that when the world which they represented no longer alluredher, its ambassadors should be discredited. Even had Hurstwood returnedin his original beauty and glory, he could not now have allured her. Shehad learned that in his world, as in her own present state, was nothappiness. In town she returned to preoccupations which, for the moment, had thehappy effect of banishing troublesome thoughts. The Welly Brys, aftermuch debate, and anxious counsel with their newly acquired friends, haddecided on the bold move of giving a general entertainment. To attacksociety collectively, when one's means of approach are limited to a fewacquaintances, is like advancing into a strange country with aninsufficient number of scouts; but such rash tactics have sometimes ledto brilliant victories, and the Brys had determined to put their fate tothe touch. Mrs. Fisher, to whom they had entrusted the conduct of theaffair, had decided that TABLEAUX VIVANTS and expensive music were thetwo baits most likely to attract the desired prey, and after prolongednegotiations, and the kind of wire-pulling in which she was known toexcel, she had induced a dozen fashionable women to exhibit themselves ina series of pictures which, by a farther miracle of persuasion, thedistinguished portrait painter, Paul Morpeth, had been prevailed upon toorganize. "It's funny how anxious these women are to get on the stage." The former, at Selden's approach, paused in the careful selection of acigar from one of the silver boxes invitingly set out near the door. "I am not making experiments," he returned. "Or if I am, it is not on youbut on myself. I don't know what effect they are going to have on me--butif marrying you is one of them, I will take the risk." Her ambitions were not as crude as Mrs. Bart's. It had been among thatlady's grievances that her husband--in the early days, before he was tootired--had wasted his evenings in what she vaguely described as "readingpoetry"; and among the effects packed off to auction after his death werea score or two of dingy volumes which had struggled for existence amongthe boots and medicine bottles of his dressing-room shelves. There was inLily a vein of sentiment, perhaps transmitted from this source, whichgave an idealizing touch to her most prosaic purposes. She liked to thinkof her beauty as a power for good, as giving her the opportunity toattain a position where she should make her influence felt in the vaguediffusion of refinement and good taste. She was fond of pictures andflowers, and of sentimental fiction, and she could not help thinking thatthe possession of such tastes ennobled her desire for worldly advantages.She would not indeed have cared to marry a man who was merely rich: shewas secretly ashamed of her mother's crude passion for money. Lily'spreference would have been for an English nobleman with politicalambitions and vast estates; or, for second choice, an Italian prince witha castle in the Apennines and an hereditary office in the Vatican. Lostcauses had a romantic charm for her, and she liked to picture herself asstanding aloof from the vulgar press of the Quirinal, and sacrificing herpleasure to the claims of an immemorial tradition. . . . He went out and climbed on the platform. The instructor took it forgranted that no preliminaries were needed. She scarcely faltered. “You might come then.” He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should appear on the scenewith a few friends, he could say that he had been urged to come along.Drouet had a desire to wipe out the possibility of confusion. "Which way are you going? Shall we walk a bit?" he began, putting thesecond question before the first was answered, and not waiting for areply to either before he directed her silently toward the comparativeseclusion of the lower gardens. "Yes." "I was simply put where I didn't know what else to do." "Better send him to Bellevue," he recommended. "He's got pneumonia." In the very beginning it was a delight to go home late at night, as hedid, and find Carrie. He managed to run up and take dinner with herbetween six and seven, and to remain home until nine o'clock in themorning, but the novelty of this waned after a time, and he began tofeel the drag of his duties. Not wishing to be the means of effecting this enlargement, Lily quicklytransferred her glance to Trenor, to whom the expression of her gratitudeseemed not to have brought the complete gratification she had meant it togive. She shook her head in absolute misery. It looked as if her situation wasbecoming unbearable. But he said nothing more, and as she made no rejoinder they satsome time in a stillness which seemed to contradict his promise ofentertainment. It seemed to him she was preoccupied, and he wonderedwhat she was thinking about; there were two or three very possiblesubjects. At last he spoke again. “Is your objection to my society thisevening caused by your expectation of another visitor?” “Aren’t you capable of making a calculated effort?” she demanded.“You’re strong for everything else; why shouldn’t you be strong forthat?” “No, that’s all that would be wanting!” “Don’t you think they’re sincere?” Isabel asked. "Ned is a dear boy, and I hope he will keep his illusions long enough towrite some nice poetry about them; but do you think it is only in societythat he is likely to lose them?" Inside went the ex-manager and straight to an office off the clerk'sdesk. One of the managers of the hotel happened to be there. Hurstwoodlooked him straight in the eye. Hurstwood pricked up his ears. There was a note in her voice whichvibrated keenly. He sat with his eyes fixed on hers while she spoke; then he lowered themand attached them to a spot in the carpet as if he were making a strongeffort to say nothing but what he ought. He was a strong man in thewrong, and he was acute enough to see that an uncompromising exhibitionof his strength would only throw the falsity of his position intorelief. Isabel was not incapable of tasting any advantage of positionover a person of this quality, and though little desirous to flaunt itin his face she could enjoy being able to say “You know you oughtn’t tohave written to me yourself!” and to say it with an air of triumph. Drouet noticed this. He saw the new bow in her hair and the new way ofarranging her locks which she affected one morning. "Is Mr. Drouet stopping here?" he asked of the clerk. "Not mine," he answered, pettishly. "I know I do all I can--I say all Ican--but she----" The agent studied a moment, and then said to himself: “A few words will do it; you can attend to it the next time you feel alittle lively.” "There's no need to: you shall stay here. But you must tell me where youhave been. Listen, Lily--it will help you to speak!" She regained MissBart's hands, and pressed them against her. "Try to tell me--it willclear your poor head. Listen--you were dining at Carry Fisher's." Gertypaused and added with a flash of heroism: "Lawrence Selden went from hereto find you." "Well, we had it all right," he answered. Then he went to the door. "Ican't pay you anything on that to-day," he said, mildly. “You may see her; but you’ll not be struck with her being happy. Shehas looked as solemn, these three days, as a Cimabue Madonna!” And Mrs.Touchett rang for a servant. He watched her walk from him with tender solicitation. Such youth andprettiness reacted upon him more subtly than wine. They drove back, and at 6.15 sat down to dine. It was the Sherryincident over again, the remembrance of which came painfully back toCarrie. She remembered Mrs. Vance, who had never called again afterHurstwood's reception, and Ames. This confused Carrie considerably, for she realised the floodgates wereopen. She didn't know exactly what to answer. "Owe it? The whole ten thousand?" Miss Bart had not revealed to Gerty the full extent of her anxiety. Shewas in fact in urgent and immediate need of money: money to meet thevulgar weekly claims which could neither be deferred nor evaded. To giveup her apartment, and shrink to the obscurity of a boarding-house, or theprovisional hospitality of a bed in Gerty Farish's sitting-room, was anexpedient which could only postpone the problem confronting her; and itseemed wiser as well as more agreeable to remain where she was and findsome means of earning her living. The possibility of having to do thiswas one which she had never before seriously considered, and thediscovery that, as a bread-winner, she was likely to prove as helplessand ineffectual as poor Miss Silverton, was a severe shock to herself-confidence. She listened with great interest to the girl’s account of Mrs.Touchett’s appearance and in the evening prepared to comply with theiraunt’s commands. Of what Isabel then said no report has remained, buther sister’s words had doubtless prompted a word spoken to her husbandas the two were making ready for their visit. “I do hope immenselyshe’ll do something handsome for Isabel; she has evidently taken a greatfancy to her.” He saw some energetic charging by the police and arrests being made. Carry, in her rare moments of prosperity, became so expansively maternalthat Miss Bart sometimes wondered whether, if she could ever get time andmoney enough, she would not end by devoting them both to her daughter. On the fourth day she was down town all day, having borrowed ten centsfor lunch from Minnie. She had applied in the cheapest kind of placeswithout success. She even answered for a waitress in a small restaurantwhere she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experienced girl.She moved through the thick throng of strangers, utterly subdued inspirit. Suddenly a hand pulled her arm and turned her about. Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with Carrie, getting whatjoy out of it he could. "My dear child, don't add to it still more--at least to your conceptionof it--by attributing to her all sorts of susceptibilities of your own."Selden, for his life, could not keep a note of dryness out of his voice;but he met Gerty's look of perplexity by saying more mildly: "But, thoughyou immensely exaggerate the importance of anything I could do for MissBart, you can't exaggerate my readiness to do it--if you ask me to." Helaid his hand for a moment on hers, and there passed between them, on thecurrent of the rare contact, one of those exchanges of meaning which fillthe hidden reservoirs of affection. Gerty had the feeling that hemeasured the cost of her request as plainly as she read the significanceof his reply; and the sense of all that was suddenly clear between themmade her next words easier to find. "Yes," returned Carrie. "What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood?" she suddenly asked,bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her own observation, seemedto contain promising material. “Ah, we too are a lovely group!” said Ralph. “Wait a little and you’llsee.” Hurstwood saw the difficulty of this thing, and yet it did not seem soterrible. Carrie was tired and dispirited, but now she could rest.Viewing the world from his rocking-chair, its bitterness did not seem toapproach so rapidly. To-morrow was another day. Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling much of thesame old annoyance. At his store he had idled, there being no need towrite. He had come away to this place with the lightness of heart whichcharacterises those who put weariness behind. Now, in the shade of thiscool, green bush, he looked about him with the fancy of the lover. Heheard the carts go lumbering by upon the neighbouring streets, but theywere far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the surroundingcity was faint, the clang of an occasional bell was as music. He lookedand dreamed a new dream of pleasure which concerned his present fixedcondition not at all. He got back in fancy to the old Hurstwood, who wasneither married nor fixed in a solid position for life. He rememberedthe light spirit in which he once looked after the girls--how he haddanced, escorted them home, hung over their gates. He almost wished hewas back there again--here in this pleasant scene he felt as if he werewholly free. At last he found an individual who had a resort in Warren Street, whichseemed an excellent venture. It was fairly well-appearing andsusceptible of improvement. The owner claimed the business to beexcellent, and it certainly looked so. "I will," she answered, looking back. "He says that's the best part. Do you think you can do it?" He lingered, trying to think logically. This was no longer possible withhim. "What is your address?" inquired a young lady behind the counter, takingup the curtailed conversation. To his surprise, he found that all the bills were receipted; there wasnot an unpaid account among them. He opened the cheque-book, and sawthat, the very night before, a cheque of ten thousand dollars from Mrs.Peniston's executors had been entered in it. The legacy, then, had beenpaid sooner than Gerty had led him to expect. But, turning another pageor two, he discovered with astonishment that, in spite of this recentaccession of funds, the balance had already declined to a few dollars. Arapid glance at the stubs of the last cheques, all of which bore the dateof the previous day, showed that between four or five hundred dollars ofthe legacy had been spent in the settlement of bills, while the remainingthousands were comprehended in one cheque, made out, at the same time, toCharles Augustus Trenor. “I think you had better go,” said Isabel. “I’ll write to you.” He looked at her quite tenderly for his kind. There were some loosebills in his vest pocket--greenbacks. They were soft and noiseless, andhe got his fingers about them and crumpled them up in his hand. "Oh, why not?" said the latter. Madame Merle smiled with her usual grace. “It’s a weighty question--letme think. It seems to me it would please your father to see a carefullittle daughter making his tea. It’s the proper duty of the daughter ofthe house--when she grows up.” "Won't you come have a drink?" Miss Bart set down her cup with a start. "Do I look ill? Does my faceshow it?" She rose and walked quickly toward the little mirror above thewriting-table. "What a horrid looking-glass--it's all blotched anddiscoloured. Any one would look ghastly in it!" She turned back, fixingher plaintive eyes on Gerty. "You stupid dear, why do you say such odiousthings to me? It's enough to make one ill to be told one looks so! Andlooking ill means looking ugly." She caught Gerty's wrists, and drew herclose to the window. "After all, I'd rather know the truth. Look mestraight in the face, Gerty, and tell me: am I perfectly frightful?" Mr. Rosedale stood scanning her with interest and approval. He was aplump rosy man of the blond Jewish type, with smart London clothesfitting him like upholstery, and small sidelong eyes which gave him theair of appraising people as if they were bric-a-brac. He glanced upinterrogatively at the porch of the Benedick. Therewith he lined up the last two and proceeded to the head, countingas he went. "They're foolish to strike in this sort of weather," he thought tohimself. "Let 'em win if they can, though." In the hurry of departure, Hurstwood was forgotten. Both he and Drouetwere left to discover that she was gone. The latter called once, andexclaimed at the news. Then he stood in the lobby, chewing the ends ofhis moustache. At last he reached a conclusion--the old days had gonefor good. On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the papers concerning theevent, and, in view of the flow of common, everyday things about, it nowlost a shade of the glow of the previous evening. Drouet himself was nottalking so much _of_ as _for_ her. He felt instinctively that, for somereason or other, he needed reconstruction in her regard. “She’ll hardly fall a victim to more than one.” The line was growing rapidly. Already there were fifty or more, andthose at the head, by their demeanour, evidently congratulatedthemselves upon not having so long to wait as those at the foot. Therewas much jerking of heads, and looking down the line. “And yours was a paragon--is that what you mean?” asked her friend witha laugh. “If you’ve had the identical young man you dreamed of, thenthat was success, and I congratulate you with all my heart. Only in thatcase why didn’t you fly with him to his castle in the Apennines?” "Yes," said the astonished girl. "Mrs. George Wheeler," said Carrie, moving over to where she waswriting. The woman wrote her address in full and then allowed her todepart at her leisure. “I should think not; crimes of violence and attacks on the personrequire more or less pluck. Do you suppose she’ll interview me?” On the first morning it rained she found that she had no umbrella.Minnie loaned her one of hers, which was worn and faded. There was thekind of vanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of thegreat department stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and aquarter of her small store to pay for it. "So I did," said Carrie simply. "I went for a walk." "I have a million in my own right. I could give you every luxury. There isn't anything you could ask for that you couldn't have. I say this, not because I want to speak of my money, but because I love you and wish to gratify your every desire. It is love that prompts me to write. Will you not give me one half-hour in which to plead my cause?" When he had finished it, he stood holding it in his hands. The audacityof the thing took his breath. It roused his ire also--the deepestelement of revolt in him. His first impulse was to write but four wordsin reply--"Go to the devil!"--but he compromised by telling the boy thatthere would be no reply. Then he sat down in his chair and gazed withoutseeing, contemplating the result of his work. What would she do aboutthat? The confounded wretch! Was she going to try to bulldoze him intosubmission? He would go up there and have it out with her, that's whathe would do. She was carrying things with too high a hand. These werehis first thoughts. Mr. Osmond, in his walk, had gone back to the open door again and waslooking at his daughter as she moved about in the intense sunshine.“What good will it do me?” he asked with a sort of genial crudity. "That'll do," he assented. "Old Pepper," said Drouet. "Oh," said Carrie, her voice rising into a weak cry. "Let me off. Idon't want to go with you." "You'd want to deposit fifty dollars, any way. No agent would troubleabout you for less than that." "All right," he answered, smiling, although he noted mentally that itwould be more agreeable to his finances if she didn't. Nothing was saidabout it the next day, but the following morning he asked: "That's too bad," he said, realising that he had been a littlebeforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about to go away. "Come inlater. I may know of something." "I'm not mad," she snapped. "I'm merely asking you for a season ticket." On the morrow Carrie reported promptly and was given a place in theline. She saw a large, empty, shadowy play-house, still redolent of theperfumes and blazonry of the night, and notable for its rich, orientalappearance. The wonder of it awed and delighted her. Blessed be itswondrous reality. How hard she would try to be worthy of it. It wasabove the common mass, above idleness, above want, above insignificance.People came to it in finery and carriages to see. It was ever a centreof light and mirth. And here she was of it. Oh, if she could onlyremain, how happy would be her days! She unloosed her hair after a time, and let it hang in loose brownwaves. Her mind was going over the events of the evening. He looked rather determined now, in a desolate sort of way, and Carriefelt very sorry. Something of the old Hurstwood was here--the leastshadow of what was once shrewd and pleasant strength. Outside, it wascloudy and blowing a few flakes of snow. “She does everything beautifully. She’s complete.” She had heard so much of the canting philosophy of the grapeless fox. Oh, the tangle of human life! How dimly as yet we see. Here was Carrie,in the beginning poor, unsophisticated, emotional; responding withdesire to everything most lovely in life, yet finding herself turned asby a wall. Laws to say: "Be allured, if you will, by everything lovely,but draw not nigh unless by righteousness." Convention to say: "Youshall not better your situation save by honest labour." If honest labourbe unremunerative and difficult to endure; if it be the long, long roadwhich never reaches beauty, but wearies the feet and the heart; if thedrag to follow beauty be such that one abandons the admired way, takingrather the despised path leading to her dreams quickly, who shall castthe first stone? Not evil, but longing for that which is better, moreoften directs the steps of the erring. Not evil, but goodness more oftenallures the feeling mind unused to reason. She paused to readjust the bottle to the child's bubbling mouth. "I have looked," he said. "You can't make people give you a place." "Cash." “Ah,” said Isabel slowly, “you must be our crazy Aunt Lydia!” Carrie interrupted: "They'll take us to dinner," said Lola. “I don’t like to have you, my dear?” said her brother. “I’m sure you’reinvaluable.” “It would have been pleasant if for nothing else than that it brought mehere.” Ralph Touchett was silent a moment. “She hasn’t seen him for a year.” On this trip he enjoyed himself thoroughly, and when it was over he wassorry to get back. He was not willingly a prevaricator, and hatedthoroughly to make explanations concerning it. The whole incident wasglossed over with general remarks, but Mrs. Hurstwood gave the subjectconsiderable thought. She drove out more, dressed better, and attendedtheatres freely to make up for it. The man imagined he saw a feverish gleam in the applicant's eye. "Why, I know it. I've always known it," said Drouet. His voice had a note of conjugal familiarity: Miss Bart fancied shedetected in Rosedale's eye a twinkling perception of the fact, and theidea turned her dislike of him to repugnance. The stranger hesitated a single moment and then, “From your uncle,” sheanswered. “I’ve been here three days, and the first day he let me comeand pay him a visit in his room. Then he talked constantly of you.” The place that had been so comfortable, where he had spent so many daysof warmth, was now a memory. Something colder and chillier confrontedhim. He sank down in his chair, resting his chin in his hand--meresensation, without thought, holding him. "Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-topdesk near the window, "have you ever worked in any other store?" "She was good-looking, wasn't she?" said the manager's companion, whohad not caught all the details of the game he had played. Beneath the nearest lamp-post he glanced at his watch and saw that thetime was close on eleven. He took another cross street, and withoutbreasting the throng on the Promenade, made his way to the fashionableclub which overlooks that thoroughfare. Here, amid the blaze of crowdedbaccarat tables, he caught sight of Lord Hubert Dacey, seated with hishabitual worn smile behind a rapidly dwindling heap of gold. The heapbeing in due course wiped out, Lord Hubert rose with a shrug, and joiningSelden, adjourned with him to the deserted terrace of the club. It wasnow past midnight, and the throng on the stands was dispersing, while thelong trails of red-lit boats scattered and faded beneath a skyrepossessed by the tranquil splendour of the moon. Through all this thoughts of Carrie flashed upon him, and theapproaching affair of Saturday. Tangled as all his matters were, he didnot worry over that. It was the one pleasing thing in this whole rout oftrouble. He could arrange that satisfactorily, for Carrie would be gladto wait, if necessary. He would see how things turned out to-morrow, andthen he would talk to her. They were going to meet as usual. He saw onlyher pretty face and neat figure and wondered why life was not arrangedso that such joy as he found with her could be steadily maintained. Howmuch more pleasant it would be. Then he would take up his wife's threatagain, and the wrinkles and moisture would return. Carrie, coming in from another direction, thought she saw Mrs. Vancegoing away. She strained her eyes, but could not make sure. Hurstwood bought the flour--which all grocers sold in 3-1/2-poundpackages--for thirteen cents and paid fifteen cents for a half-pound ofliver and bacon. He left the packages, together with the balance ofthirty-two cents, upon the kitchen table, where Carrie found it. It didnot escape her that the change was accurate. There was something sad inrealising that, after all, all that he wanted of her was something toeat. She felt as if hard thoughts were unjust. Maybe he would getsomething yet. He had no vices. It was with a sense of satisfaction, then, that he saw announced onemorning the return of the Casino Company, "with Miss Carrie Madenda." Hehad thought of her often enough in days past. How successful shewas--how much money she must have! Even now, however, it took a severerun of ill-luck to decide him to appeal to her. He was truly hungrybefore he said: “Shall I love her or shall I hate her?” Ralph asked while they movedalong the platform. Miss Bart made an incredulous gesture. "As far as that goes, the end willnever come--Bertha will always know how to get him back when she wantshim." "Yes, Miss; I'm coming to that," she said. She paused again, with hereyes on Lily, and then continued, in a tone of diffuse narrative: "Whenwe was at the Benedick I had charge of some of the gentlemen's rooms;leastways, I swep' 'em out on Saturdays. Some of the gentlemen got thegreatest sight of letters: I never saw the like of it. Their waste-paperbaskets 'd be fairly brimming, and papers falling over on the floor.Maybe havin' so many is how they get so careless. Some of 'em is worsethan others. Mr. Selden, Mr. Lawrence Selden, he was always one of thecarefullest: burnt his letters in winter, and tore 'em in little bits insummer. But sometimes he'd have so many he'd just bunch 'em together, theway the others did, and tear the lot through once--like this." "Yes," he rejoined. "I wonder," he said, as he rode away in his cab, "how Drouet came to winher." "But you didn't have much to do with him, did you?" went on Drouet,anxious for his own peace of mind to get some direct denial from her. "I've been sick, I told you," he said, peevishly, almost resenting herexcessive pity. It came hard to him to receive it from such a source. Mr. Touchett gave a shrewd, conscious smile. “There’s room everywhere,my dear, if you’ll pay for it. I sometimes think I’ve paid too much forthis. Perhaps you also might have to pay too much.” As she reached the street she realized that she felt stronger andhappier: the little episode had done her good. It was the first time shehad ever come across the results of her spasmodic benevolence, and thesurprised sense of human fellowship took the mortal chill from her heart. "I tried, didn't I?" "We are going to supper, of course," he said, with a voice that was amockery of his heart. When Drouet was gone, she sat down in her rocking-chair by the window tothink about it. As usual, imagination exaggerated the possibilities forher. It was as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she hadexercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars. She saw herself in a scoreof pathetic situations in which she assumed a tremulous voice andsuffering manner. Her mind delighted itself with scenes of luxury andrefinement, situations in which she was the cynosure of all eyes, thearbiter of all fates. As she rocked to and fro she felt the tensity ofwoe in abandonment, the magnificence of wrath after deception, thelanguour of sorrow after defeat. Thoughts of all the charming women shehad seen in plays--every fancy, every illusion which she had concerningthe stage--now came back as a returning tide after the ebb. She builtup feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant. Selden, who had put one of these seats to the test, found himself, froman angle of the ball-room, surveying the scene with frank enjoyment. Thecompany, in obedience to the decorative instinct which calls for fineclothes in fine surroundings, had dressed rather with an eye to Mrs.Bry's background than to herself. The seated throng, filling the immenseroom without undue crowding, presented a surface of rich tissues andjewelled shoulders in harmony with the festooned and gilded walls, andthe flushed splendours of the Venetian ceiling. At the farther end of theroom a stage had been constructed behind a proscenium arch curtained withfolds of old damask; but in the pause before the parting of the foldsthere was little thought of what they might reveal, for every woman whohad accepted Mrs. Bry's invitation was engaged in trying to find out howmany of her friends had done the same. He found a hydrant, with a trough which had once been used for horses,but there was no towel here, and his handkerchief was soiled fromyesterday. He contented himself with wetting his eyes with the ice-coldwater. Then he sought the foreman, who was already on the ground. "Oh, he'll go back to his brick business. He has a brick-yard, youknow." “Ah,” cried his mother, “you ask too many questions! Find that out foryourself.” Isabel thought this a better answer than she admitted; it was atolerable description of her own manner of judging, but it would nothave sounded well for her to say so. On the lips of a person lessadvanced in life and less enlightened by experience than Mrs. Touchettsuch a declaration would savour of immodesty, even of arrogance. Sherisked it nevertheless in talking with Ralph, with whom she talked agreat deal and with whom her conversation was of a sort that gave alarge licence to extravagance. Her cousin used, as the phrase is, tochaff her; he very soon established with her a reputation for treatingeverything as a joke, and he was not a man to neglect the privilegessuch a reputation conferred. She accused him of an odious want ofseriousness, of laughing at all things, beginning with himself. Suchslender faculty of reverence as he possessed centred wholly upon hisfather; for the rest, he exercised his wit indifferently upon hisfather’s son, this gentleman’s weak lungs, his useless life, hisfantastic mother, his friends (Lord Warburton in especial), his adopted,and his native country, his charming new-found cousin. “I keep a bandof music in my ante-room,” he said once to her. “It has orders to playwithout stopping; it renders me two excellent services. It keeps thesounds of the world from reaching the private apartments, and it makesthe world think that dancing’s going on within.” It was dance-musicindeed that you usually heard when you came within ear-shot of Ralph’sband; the liveliest waltzes seemed to float upon the air. Isabel oftenfound herself irritated by this perpetual fiddling; she would have likedto pass through the ante-room, as her cousin called it, and enter theprivate apartments. It mattered little that he had assured her they werea very dismal place; she would have been glad to undertake to sweep themand set them in order. It was but half-hospitality to let her remainoutside; to punish him for which Isabel administered innumerable tapswith the ferule of her straight young wit. It must be said that her witwas exercised to a large extent in self-defence, for her cousin amusedhimself with calling her “Columbia” and accusing her of a patriotism soheated that it scorched. He drew a caricature of her in which she wasrepresented as a very pretty young woman dressed, on the lines of theprevailing fashion, in the folds of the national banner. Isabel’s chiefdread in life at this period of her development was that she shouldappear narrow-minded; what she feared next afterwards was that sheshould really be so. But she nevertheless made no scruple of aboundingin her cousin’s sense and pretending to sigh for the charms of hernative land. She would be as American as it pleased him to regard her,and if he chose to laugh at her she would give him plenty of occupation.She defended England against his mother, but when Ralph sang its praiseson purpose, as she said, to work her up, she found herself able todiffer from him on a variety of points. In fact, the quality of thissmall ripe country seemed as sweet to her as the taste of an Octoberpear; and her satisfaction was at the root of the good spirits whichenabled her to take her cousin’s chaff and return it in kind. If hergood-humour flagged at moments it was not because she thought herselfill-used, but because she suddenly felt sorry for Ralph. It seemed toher he was talking as a blind and had little heart in what he said. “Idon’t know what’s the matter with you,” she observed to him once; “but Isuspect you’re a great humbug.” There was no answer ready for this. He had got used to the suggestion. “Didn’t you say his own share had been cut down?” "Anyhow," said Carrie, "I shouldn't want to get married as long as he ishere. I wouldn't want to run away." "Well, now, just how much money would it take to buy a half interesthere?" said Hurstwood, who saw seven hundred dollars as his limit. She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letterfrom a bunch in his coat pocket. "This is the house I travel for," hewent on, pointing to a picture on it, "corner of State and Lake." Therewas pride in his voice. He felt that it was something to be connectedwith such a place, and he made her feel that way. “Miss Archer can certainly have nothing but sympathy for a family towhich you belong,” Mr. Osmond answered, with a laugh which, though ithad something of a mocking ring, had also a finer patience. Then he looked about upon a dingy, moth-eaten hotel lobby. Mrs. Fisher's experience guarded her against the mistake of exposingLily, for the first evening, to the unmitigated impression of Rosedale'spersonality. Kate Corby and two or three men dropped in to dinner, andLily, alive to every detail of her friend's method, saw that suchopportunities as had been contrived for her were to be deferred till shehad, as it were, gained courage to make effectual use of them. She had asense of acquiescing in this plan with the passiveness of a suffererresigned to the surgeon's touch; and this feeling of almost lethargichelplessness continued when, after the departure of the guests, Mrs.Fisher followed her upstairs. Hurstwood watched him calmly. He had seen motormen work before. He knewjust about how they did it, and was sure he could do as well, with avery little practice. Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glador sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence. She wasslightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was morenervousness than either fear or favour. She did not try to conjecturewhat the drift of the conversation would be. She only felt that she mustbe careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination for her.Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and went below. Drouet imagined that he must have misunderstood his friend. He did notattach particular importance to the information, after all. "That's what Bertha means, isn't it?" Miss Bart went on steadily. "Forof course she always means something; and before I left Long Island I sawthat she was beginning to lay her toils for Mattie." “As you didn’t know me that must rather have bored you.” "How much do I get?" she inquired. The movement of his lips aroused him. He wondered whether he had reallyspoken. The next time he noticed anything of the sort he really didtalk. "Well, you get it then," he said grimly, though in a modified tone ofvoice. She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. She had found thecompany so nervous that her own strength had gone. There was nothing bold in her manner. Life had not taught herdomination--superciliousness of grace, which is the lordly power of somewomen. Her longing for consideration was not sufficiently powerful tomove her to demand it. Even now she lacked self-assurance, but there wasthat in what she had already experienced which left her a little lessthan timid. She wanted pleasure, she wanted position, and yet she wasconfused as to what these things might be. Every hour the kaleidoscopeof human affairs threw a new lustre upon something, and therewith itbecame for her the desired--the all. Another shift of the box, and someother had become the beautiful, the perfect. Lily sat gazing absently through the blue rings of her cigarette-smoke. "Did you notice," he said, at last, breaking forth concerning anotheritem which he had found, "that they have entered suit to compel theIllinois Central to get off the lake front, Julia?" he asked. “No one else.” “Not in the least. I’m absolutely without a wish on the subject. I don’tpretend to advise you, and I content myself with watching you--with thedeepest interest.” Henrietta showed no signs of breaking down. Her prospects had brightenedon her leaving England, and she was now in the full enjoyment of hercopious resources. She had indeed been obliged to sacrifice her hopeswith regard to the inner life; the social question, on the Continent,bristled with difficulties even more numerous than those she hadencountered in England. But on the Continent there was the outerlife, which was palpable and visible at every turn, and more easilyconvertible to literary uses than the customs of those opaque islanders.Out of doors in foreign lands, as she ingeniously remarked, one seemedto see the right side of the tapestry; out of doors in England oneseemed to see the wrong side, which gave one no notion of the figure.The admission costs her historian a pang, but Henrietta, despairing ofmore occult things, was now paying much attention to the outer life. Shehad been studying it for two months at Venice, from which city she sentto the _Interviewer_ a conscientious account of the gondolas, the Piazza,the Bridge of Sighs, the pigeons and the young boatman who chantedTasso. The _Interviewer_ was perhaps disappointed, but Henrietta was atleast seeing Europe. Her present purpose was to get down to Rome beforethe malaria should come on--she apparently supposed that it began on afixed day; and with this design she was to spend at present but few daysin Florence. Mr. Bantling was to go with her to Rome, and she pointedout to Isabel that as he had been there before, as he was a military manand as he had had a classical education--he had been bred at Eton, wherethey study nothing but Latin and Whyte-Melville, said Miss Stackpole--hewould be a most useful companion in the city of the Caesars. At thisjuncture Ralph had the happy idea of proposing to Isabel that she also,under his own escort, should make a pilgrimage to Rome. She expectedto pass a portion of the next winter there--that was very well; butmeantime there was no harm in surveying the field. There were ten daysleft of the beautiful month of May--the most precious month of allto the true Rome-lover. Isabel would become a Rome-lover; that was aforegone conclusion. She was provided with a trusty companion of herown sex, whose society, thanks to the fact of other calls on this lady’sattention, would probably not be oppressive. Madame Merle would remainwith Mrs. Touchett; she had left Rome for the summer and wouldn’tcare to return. She professed herself delighted to be left at peacein Florence; she had locked up her apartment and sent her cook home toPalestrina. She urged Isabel, however, to assent to Ralph’s proposal,and assured her that a good introduction to Rome was not a thing tobe despised. Isabel in truth needed no urging, and the party of fourarranged its little journey. Mrs. Touchett, on this occasion, hadresigned herself to the absence of a duenna; we have seen that shenow inclined to the belief that her niece should stand alone. One ofIsabel’s preparations consisted of her seeing Gilbert Osmond before shestarted and mentioning her intention to him. "Exactly. So she packed him off to India." "Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?" "What's the use worrying? I'm not out yet. I've got six weeks more. Evenif worst comes to worst, I've got enough to live on for six months." “I’m on the side of both. I guess I’m a little on the side ofeverything. In a revolution--after it was well begun--I think I shouldbe a high, proud loyalist. One sympathises more with them, and they’ve achance to behave so exquisitely. I mean so picturesquely.” "We've got a parlour too," she explained with pardonable pride; "but Iguess it's warmer in here, and I don't want to leave you alone while I'mgetting baby's supper." “What has he? An ugly brick house in Fortieth Street? Don’t tell methat; I refuse to recognise that as an ideal.” "Well, I should think you'd feel better." Then she added: "Some onemight call." "Cad," said he, catching her, "I believe you're getting vain." Dorset, meanwhile, had stepped back to his wife's side. His face waswhite, and he looked about him with cowed angry eyes. "Bertha!--MissBart . . . this is some misunderstanding . . . some mistake . . ." She had died during one of their brief visits to New York, and there Lilyat once became the centre of a family council composed of the wealthyrelatives whom she had been taught to despise for living like pigs. Itmay be that they had an inkling of the sentiments in which she had beenbrought up, for none of them manifested a very lively desire for hercompany; indeed, the question threatened to remain unsolved till Mrs.Peniston with a sigh announced: "I'll try her for a year." Carrie obeyed. "What?" asked Carrie. “I think you’ll understand this one after you’ve seen Miss Archer.Suspend your judgement.” Madame Merle, as she spoke, had drawn near theopen door of the garden, where she stood a moment looking out. “Pansyhas really grown pretty,” she presently added. "I know what you told me," he said finally. At last a lady in opera cape and rustling skirts came down Fifth Avenue,accompanied by her escort. Hurstwood gazed wearily, reminded by her bothof Carrie in her new world and of the time when he had escorted his ownwife in like manner. "Go to the devil, you old hag," he half muttered as he stared round uponthe scattered company. Having corrected the irregularity, she seated herself on one of theglossy purple arm-chairs; Mrs. Peniston always sat on a chair, never init. “Well, I should like to know whether you consider yourselves Americanor English,” she broke out. “If once I knew I could talk to youaccordingly.” As he undid his collar and unfastened his studs, preparatory to washinghis face and changing his clothes, he dilated upon his trip. Carriecould not help listening with amusement to his animated descriptions. “Ah,” said Ralph, “you must remember that I don’t know this interestingyoung man--that I’ve never seen him.” "Your engagement to go to church with Muriel and Hilda?" A cab had stopped. Some gentleman in evening dress reached out a bill tothe captain, who took it with simple thanks and turned away to his line.There was a general craning of necks as the jewel in the white shirtfront sparkled and the cab moved off. Even the crowd gaped in awe. “So that you mean you’ve a wild side that’s unknown to her?” "How do you know the other women don't go to my dress-maker?" shereturned. "You see I'm not afraid to give her address to my friends!" "Dear George," he read, crunching the money in one hand. "I'm going away. I'm not coming back any more. It's no use trying to keep up the flat; I can't do it. I wouldn't mind helping you, if I could, but I can't support us both, and pay the rent. I need what little I make to pay for my clothes. I'm leaving twenty dollars. It's all I have just now. You can do whatever you like with the furniture. I won't want it.--CARRIE." "Ill?---- No, I'm ruined," he said. "But she was devoted to you--she led every one to think--" Gerty checkedherself in evident embarrassment, and Miss Bart turned to her with adirect look. "Gerty, be honest: this will was made only six weeks ago.She had heard of my break with the Dorsets?" Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow. She had enjoyed Mrs. Vance'scompanionship so much. There was no one else in the house whom she knew.Again she would be all alone. In his weary and hungry state, he should never have come here. Thecontrast was too sharp. Even he was recalled keenly to better things. "Could you let me have a meal ticket?" he asked, with an effort. "Why, any time you like," said Carrie. "You couldn't get out until the train stops again," said Hurstwood. "Itwon't be very long until we reach another station. You can get out thenif you want to. I won't stop you. All I want you to do is to listen amoment. You'll let me tell you, won't you?" He walked nervously to the corner and hurried down a side street. “They _were_ great. I should make myself ridiculous by talking of them.” "Here," she answered. "What?" inquired Carrie. "We can't stay in Chicago," she replied. She shook her head. "If I could only get something to do," she said. "No, no, Mr. Wheeler," said Mr. Oeslogge. "Dat iss all right." Lily smiled at her classification of her friends. How different they hadseemed to her a few hours ago! Then they had symbolized what she wasgaining, now they stood for what she was giving up. That very afternoonthey had seemed full of brilliant qualities; now she saw that they weremerely dull in a loud way. Under the glitter of their opportunities shesaw the poverty of their achievement. It was not that she wanted them tobe more disinterested; but she would have liked them to be morepicturesque. And she had a shamed recollection of the way in which, a fewhours since, she had felt the centripetal force of their standards. Sheclosed her eyes an instant, and the vacuous routine of the life she hadchosen stretched before her like a long white road without dip orturning: it was true she was to roll over it in a carriage instead oftrudging it on foot, but sometimes the pedestrian enjoys the diversion ofa short cut which is denied to those on wheels. In the afternoon she spent an hour with her uncle on the lawn, where theold man sat, as usual, with his shawl over his legs and his large cupof diluted tea in his hands. In the course of conversation he asked herwhat she thought of their late visitor. "I didn't want to introduce you as my wife, because you'd feel worsethen if you didn't _go_. They all know me so well. But you'll _go_ allright. Anyhow, you'll probably never meet any of them again." "Will you go over and get some canned peaches?" she asked Hurstwood,laying down a two-dollar bill. "Hang talking! That's what you always say," returned Trenor, whoseexpletives lacked variety. "You put me off with that at the Van Osburghwedding--but the plain English of it is that, now you've got what youwanted out of me, you'd rather have any other fellow about." “Ask what you will,” Isabel replied gently, “and I’ll try to satisfyyou.” “Ah, you go back to Rome? I’ve lately come from there. It’s very lovelynow,” said Madame Merle. “Yes,” said Madame Merle, “I think you very perverse.” "You haven't anything on hand for the night, have you?" added Hurstwood. "I don't see how we ran up such a bill as that," said Carrie. "I see," he said. "Do you live here in the city?" "I could be content," went on Hurstwood, "if I had you to love me. If Ihad you to go to; you for a companion. As it is, I simply move aboutfrom place to place without any satisfaction. Time hangs heavily on myhands. Before you came I did nothing but idle and drift into anythingthat offered itself. Since you came--well, I've had you to think about." "He's delightful, delightful," he went on, giving the commonplacerendition of approval which such men know. He sent Drouet after aprogramme, and then discoursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he hadheard of him. The former was pleased beyond expression, and was reallyhypnotised by the environment, the trappings of the box, the elegance ofher companion. Several times their eyes accidentally met, and then therepoured into hers such a flood of feeling as she had never beforeexperienced. She could not for the moment explain it, for in the nextglance or the next move of the hand there was seeming indifference,mingled only with the kindest attention. “I haven’t always been happy,” said Madame Merle, smiling still, butwith a mock gravity, as if she were telling a child a secret. “Such awonderful thing!” “Yes,” said Ralph, “I know that. But I hope you’ve not forgotten thetalk we had a year ago--when I told you exactly what money I should needand begged you to make some good use of the rest.” But under her angry sense of the perverseness of things, and the lightsurface of her talk with Rosedale, a third idea persisted: she did notmean to leave without an attempt to discover the truth about Percy Gryce.Chance, or perhaps his own resolve, had kept them apart since his hastywithdrawal from Bellomont; but Miss Bart was an expert in making the mostof the unexpected, and the distasteful incidents of the last fewminutes--the revelation to Selden of precisely that part of her lifewhich she most wished him to ignore--increased her longing for shelter,for escape from such humiliating contingencies. Any definite situationwould be more tolerable than this buffeting of chances, which kept her inan attitude of uneasy alertness toward every possibility of life. While she was eating she began to wonder how much money she had. Itstruck her as exceedingly important, and without ado she went to lookfor her purse. It was on the dresser, and in it were seven dollars inbills and some change. She quailed as she thought of the insignificanceof the amount and rejoiced because the rent was paid until the end ofthe month. She began also to think what she would have done if she hadgone out into the street when she first started. By the side of thatsituation, as she looked at it now, the present seemed agreeable. Shehad a little time at least, and then, perhaps, everything would come outall right, after all. "Is that you?" he said. “And your ambitions have not been satisfied? They must have been great.” "I don't believe I want to play any more," said the youngest, ablack-haired beauty, turned supercilious by fortune, as she pushed aeuchre hand away from her. “Yes, I think I’m very fond of them. But I always want to know thethings one shouldn’t do.” That suggestion gave her something more definite to rest on than shehad found in her own thoughts, and the fact of this association of heruncle’s mild acuteness with her dilemma seemed to prove that she wasconcerned with the natural and reasonable emotions of life andnot altogether a victim to intellectual eagerness and vagueambitions--ambitions reaching beyond Lord Warburton’s beautiful appeal,reaching to something indefinable and possibly not commendable. In sofar as the indefinable had an influence upon Isabel’s behaviour at thisjuncture, it was not the conception, even unformulated, of a union withCaspar Goodwood; for however she might have resisted conquest at herEnglish suitor’s large quiet hands she was at least as far removedfrom the disposition to let the young man from Boston take positivepossession of her. The sentiment in which she sought refuge afterreading his letter was a critical view of his having come abroad; for itwas part of the influence he had upon her that he seemed to deprive herof the sense of freedom. There was a disagreeably strong push, a kindof hardness of presence, in his way of rising before her. She had beenhaunted at moments by the image, by the danger, of his disapproval andhad wondered--a consideration she had never paid in equal degree to anyone else--whether he would like what she did. The difficulty was thatmore than any man she had ever known, more than poor Lord Warburton (shehad begun now to give his lordship the benefit of this epithet), CasparGoodwood expressed for her an energy--and she had already felt it as apower that was of his very nature. It was in no degree a matter ofhis “advantages”--it was a matter of the spirit that sat in hisclear-burning eyes like some tireless watcher at a window. She mightlike it or not, but he insisted, ever, with his whole weight and force:even in one’s usual contact with him one had to reckon with that. Theidea of a diminished liberty was particularly disagreeable to her atpresent, since she had just given a sort of personal accent to herindependence by looking so straight at Lord Warburton’s big bribe andyet turning away from it. Sometimes Caspar Goodwood had seemed to rangehimself on the side of her destiny, to be the stubbornest fact she knew;she said to herself at such moments that she might evade him for a time,but that she must make terms with him at last--terms which would becertain to be favourable to himself. Her impulse had been to availherself of the things that helped her to resist such an obligation;and this impulse had been much concerned in her eager acceptance of heraunt’s invitation, which had come to her at an hour when she expectedfrom day to day to see Mr. Goodwood and when she was glad to have ananswer ready for something she was sure he would say to her. When shehad told him at Albany, on the evening of Mrs. Touchett’s visit, thatshe couldn’t then discuss difficult questions, dazzled as she was bythe great immediate opening of her aunt’s offer of “Europe,” he declaredthat this was no answer at all; and it was now to obtain a better onethat he was following her across the sea. To say to herself that he wasa kind of grim fate was well enough for a fanciful young woman who wasable to take much for granted in him; but the reader has a right to anearer and a clearer view. "I consider that you ARE disgraced, Lily: disgraced by your conduct farmore than by its results. You say your friends have persuaded you to playcards with them; well, they may as well learn a lesson too. They canprobably afford to lose a little money--and at any rate, I am not goingto waste any of mine in paying them. And now I must ask you to leaveme--this scene has been extremely painful, and I have my own health toconsider. Draw down the blinds, please; and tell Jennings I will see noone this afternoon but Grace Stepney." "Thank you." She held out her hand. "Your tea has given me a tremendousbacking. I feel equal to anything now." "But she ruins my work." Carrie had thought to lead up to her decision in some intelligent way,but this swept the whole fore-schemed situation by the board. “I myself--a few of them,” Isabel ventured to answer. "Whom did you go with?" queried his wife, with assumed indifference. "You precious--don't you be in too much of a hurry! Was it mad withmommer for getting its supper so late? Marry Anto'nette--that's what wecall her: after the French queen in that play at the Garden--I toldGeorge the actress reminded me of you, and that made me fancy thename . . . I never thought I'd get married, you know, and I'd never havehad the heart to go on working just for myself." "Oh, nonsense," said Carrie, blushing. "You know I'd be glad to seeyou." Owing to the peculiar nature of his position, such a disclosure as thiswould ordinarily create no difficulty. His wife took it for granted thathis situation called for certain social movements in which she might notbe included. But of late he had pleaded office duty on several occasionswhen his wife asked for his company to any evening entertainment. He haddone so in regard to the very evening in question only the morningbefore. "Won't you listen?" he asked. "I don't know," she said. Lily, to whom the name conveyed nothing, opened the door upon a woman ina battered bonnet, who stood firmly planted under the hall-light. Theglare of the unshaded gas shone familiarly on her pock-marked face andthe reddish baldness visible through thin strands of straw-coloured hair.Lily looked at the char-woman in surprise. “I should think she had had enough of the nuns.” "Oh, DINNER----" he mocked her; but she left him with the smilingrejoinder: "Dinner on board, remember; we'll put it off till nine if youlike." "Oh, well, perhaps Lady Cressida will reconcile the Wetheralls to meetingCarry Fisher," said Miss Bart pacifically. The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurstwood was paralleledin the case of Carrie, who accepted the things which fortune providedwith the most genial good-nature. New York, despite her first expressionof disapproval, soon interested her exceedingly. Its clear atmosphere,more populous thoroughfares, and peculiar indifference struck herforcibly. She had never seen such a little flat as hers, and yet it soonenlisted her affection. The new furniture made an excellent showing, thesideboard which Hurstwood himself arranged gleamed brightly. Thefurniture for each room was appropriate, and in the so-called parlour,or front room, was installed a piano, because Carrie said she would liketo learn to play. She kept a servant and developed rapidly in householdtactics and information. For the first time in her life she feltsettled, and somewhat justified in the eyes of society as she conceivedof it. Her thoughts were merry and innocent enough. For a long while sheconcerned herself over the arrangement of New York flats, and wonderedat ten families living in one building and all remaining strange andindifferent to each other. She also marvelled at the whistles of thehundreds of vessels in the harbour--the long, low cries of the Soundsteamers and ferry-boats when fog was on. The mere fact that thesethings spoke from the sea made them wonderful. She looked much at whatshe could see of the Hudson from her west windows and of the great citybuilding up rapidly on either hand. It was much to ponder over, andsufficed to entertain her for more than a year without becoming stale. Besides, he had the disagreeable fear of meeting old-time friends, eversince one such encounter which he made shortly after his arrival in thecity. It was in Broadway that he saw a man approaching him whom he knew.There was no time for simulating non-recognition. The exchange ofglances had been too sharp, the knowledge of each other too apparent. Sothe friend, a buyer for one of the Chicago wholesale houses, felt,perforce, the necessity of stopping. “And you want the old lady to take her, is that it?” “Isabel was cruel?”--and Ralph’s face lighted with the relief of hiscousin’s not having shown duplicity. "You take this to this address," he said, handing him the envelope, "andgive it to Mrs. Hurstwood." She had to draw upon this thought, as upon some fiery stimulant, to keepup her part in the scene toward which Rosedale was too frankly tending.As she walked beside him, shrinking in every nerve from the way in whichhis look and tone made free of her, yet telling herself that thismomentary endurance of his mood was the price she must pay for herultimate power over him, she tried to calculate the exact point at whichconcession must turn to resistance, and the price HE would have to pay bemade equally clear to him. But his dapper self-confidence seemedimpenetrable to such hints, and she had a sense of something hard andself-contained behind the superficial warmth of his manner. "Where is the conductor?" yelled one of the officers, getting his eye onthat individual, who had come nervously forward to stand by Hurstwood.The latter had stood gazing upon the scene with more astonishment thanfear. "I won't," he said, squeezing her hand at parting and giving the glanceshe had just cautioned against. "Is it quite right--I haven't made it too strong?" she askedsolicitously; and he replied with conviction that he had never tastedbetter tea. "I think this Italian up here on the corner sells coal at twenty-fivecents a bushel. I'll trade with him." At last the final day came. When it actually arrived, Hurstwood, who hadgot his mind into such a state where a thunder-clap and raging stormwould have seemed highly appropriate, was rather relieved to find thatit was a plain, ordinary day. The sun shone, the temperature waspleasant. He felt, as he came to the breakfast table, that it wasn't soterrible, after all. "Me? No. I've always worked in a paper factory." “You’re quite unfathomable,” she repeated, glancing up at the windows ofthe house, a modern structure in the new part of the town. Isabel failed even to smile back and in a moment she said: “Did he askyou to speak to me?” Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised his friend Kenny, thestock-broker. Isabel might have believed it and not have been far from the truth. Hethought a great deal about her; she was constantly present to his mind.At a time when his thoughts had been a good deal of a burden to him hersudden arrival, which promised nothing and was an open-handed gift offate, had refreshed and quickened them, given them wings and somethingto fly for. Poor Ralph had been for many weeks steeped in melancholy;his outlook, habitually sombre, lay under the shadow of a deeper cloud.He had grown anxious about his father, whose gout, hitherto confined tohis legs, had begun to ascend into regions more vital. The old man hadbeen gravely ill in the spring, and the doctors had whispered toRalph that another attack would be less easy to deal with. Just nowhe appeared disburdened of pain, but Ralph could not rid himself of asuspicion that this was a subterfuge of the enemy, who was waiting totake him off his guard. If the manoeuvre should succeed there would belittle hope of any great resistance. Ralph had always taken for grantedthat his father would survive him--that his own name would be the firstgrimly called. The father and son had been close companions, and theidea of being left alone with the remnant of a tasteless life on hishands was not gratifying to the young man, who had always and tacitlycounted upon his elder’s help in making the best of a poor business.At the prospect of losing his great motive Ralph lost indeed his oneinspiration. If they might die at the same time it would be all verywell; but without the encouragement of his father’s society he shouldbarely have patience to await his own turn. He had not the incentive offeeling that he was indispensable to his mother; it was a rule with hismother to have no regrets. He bethought himself of course that it hadbeen a small kindness to his father to wish that, of the two, the activerather than the passive party should know the felt wound; he rememberedthat the old man had always treated his own forecast of an early end asa clever fallacy, which he should be delighted to discredit so far ashe might by dying first. But of the two triumphs, that of refuting asophistical son and that of holding on a while longer to a state ofbeing which, with all abatements, he enjoyed, Ralph deemed it no sin tohope the latter might be vouchsafed to Mr. Touchett. Carrie observed his ease with some misgiving. For all the fury of thestorm she doubted his comfort. He took his situation toophilosophically. If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the personification ofthe old term spick and span. In the drive of the wind and sleet they pushed in on one another. Therewere wrists, unprotected by coat or pocket, which were red with cold.There were ears, half covered by every conceivable semblance of a hat,which still looked stiff and bitten. In the snow they shifted, now onefoot, now another, almost rocking in unison. Amid the tinsel and shine of her state walked Carrie, unhappy. As whenDrouet took her, she had thought: "Now am I lifted into that which isbest"; as when Hurstwood seemingly offered her the better way: "Now am Ihappy." But since the world goes its way past all who will not partakeof its folly, she now found herself alone. Her purse was open to himwhose need was greatest. In her walks on Broadway, she no longer thoughtof the elegance of the creatures who passed her. Had they more of thatpeace and beauty which glimmered afar off, then were they to be envied. "One hundred and fifty a week!" she murmured, when she was again alone.She found, after all--as what millionaire has not?--that there was norealising, in consciousness, the meaning of large sums. It was only ashimmering, glittering phrase in which lay a world of possibilities. "Ever had any experience?" he asked again, almost severely. “I mean full of experience--of people’s feelings and sorrows. And not oftheir sorrows only, for I’ve been very happy here as a child.” Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, physically andmentally. She was deeply rejoicing in her affection for Hurstwood andhis love, and looked forward with fine fancy to their next meetingSunday night. They had agreed, without any feeling of enforced secrecy,that she should come down town and meet him, though, after all, the needof it was the cause. This he did, but soon grew rapidly worse. It seemed all he could do tocrawl to his room, where he remained for a day. “Don’t do that; he’d prove the better man.” "Oh, dear, I'm so hot and thirsty--and what a hideous place New York is!"She looked despairingly up and down the dreary thoroughfare. "Othercities put on their best clothes in summer, but New York seems to sit inits shirtsleeves." Her eyes wandered down one of the side-streets."Someone has had the humanity to plant a few trees over there. Let us gointo the shade." “I don’t think that’s a fault,” she answered. “It’s not absolutelynecessary to suffer; we were not made for that.” Mr. Osmond busied himself for a moment in the room--there was plenty ofspace in it to move about--in the fashion of a man mechanicallyseeking pretexts for not giving an attention which may be embarrassing.Presently, however, he had exhausted his pretexts; there was nothingleft for him--unless he took up a book--but to stand with his handsbehind him looking at Pansy. “Why didn’t you come and see the last of_mamman_ Catherine?” he asked of her abruptly in French. Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper. “It’s not for that I say it.” “I think you meant it. Don’t repudiate it. It’s so fine!” "I'd take anything," she said, "for the present. It will soon be thefirst of the month again." "Borrow--easy for me to borrow?" Grace Stepney rose up before her insable wrath. "Do you imagine for a moment that I would raise money on myexpectations from cousin Julia, when I know so well her unspeakablehorror of every transaction of the sort? Why, Lily, if you must know thetruth, it was the idea of your being in debt that brought on herillness--you remember she had a slight attack before you sailed. Oh, Idon't know the particulars, of course--I don't WANT to know them--butthere were rumours about your affairs that made her most unhappy--no onecould be with her without seeing that. I can't help it if you areoffended by my telling you this now--if I can do anything to make yourealize the folly of your course, and how deeply SHE disapproved of it, Ishall feel it is the truest way of making up to you for her loss." "What an absurd question, Bertha!" she exclaimed, blushing at the thoughtof the store she had laid in at Lawrence Selden's. "We'll go right up and get rooms," he said. In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he--more taste. It was afiner mental strain in her that made possible her depression andloneliness. Her poor clothes were neat, and she held her headunconsciously in a dainty way. "All right," she laughed. "I think I have it memorised nearly." "It's a well-earned rest: I'll say that for myself," she continued,sinking down with a sigh of content on the pillowed lounge near the fire."Louisa Bry is a stern task-master: I often used to wish myself back withthe Gormers. Talk of love making people jealous and suspicious--it'snothing to social ambition! Louisa used to lie awake at night wonderingwhether the women who called on us called on ME because I was with her,or on HER because she was with me; and she was always laying traps tofind out what I thought. Of course I had to disown my oldest friends,rather than let her suspect she owed me the chance of making a singleacquaintance--when, all the while, that was what she had me there for,and what she wrote me a handsome cheque for when the season was over!" "I think I could break away from this fellow inside of a year," saidHurstwood. "Nothing will ever come of this arrangement as it's going onnow." Trenor laughed. "Don't talk stage-rot. I don't want to insult you. But aman's got his feelings--and you've played with mine too long. I didn'tbegin this business--kept out of the way, and left the track clear forthe other chaps, till you rummaged me out and set to work to make an assof me--and an easy job you had of it, too. That's the trouble--it was tooeasy for you--you got reckless--thought you could turn me inside out, andchuck me in the gutter like an empty purse. But, by gad, that ain'tplaying fair: that's dodging the rules of the game. Of course I know nowwhat you wanted--it wasn't my beautiful eyes you were after--but I tellyou what, Miss Lily, you've got to pay up for making me think so----" "I will," said a voice. "Oh, over two thousand dollars. He says it's a dandy." Lily, at this, reseated herself with a cry of alarm. "No, no, NO!" sheprotested. “Very good, then, since your future is seated beside you. Capital thingto have your future so handy.” And Ralph lighted another cigarette andreflected that Isabel probably meant she had received news that Mr.Caspar Goodwood had crossed to Paris. After he had lighted his cigarettehe puffed it a while, and then he resumed. “I promised just now to bevery amusing; but you see I don’t come up to the mark, and the fact isthere’s a good deal of temerity in one’s undertaking to amuse aperson like you. What do you care for my feeble attempts? You’ve grandideas--you’ve a high standard in such matters. I ought at least to bringin a band of music or a company of mountebanks.” "Not very, I hope," said Carrie. “If you leave us we shall probably see more of each other.” Now he looked up in her face, for she was standing a moment, while hesat. "Looks quite an affair, doesn't it?" “She never had any as a child, and I’m glad you have given her none.” "Me?" Miss Bart joined in her amusement. "It's charming of you toremember me, dear; but really----" Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously. For the moment, lonelinessdeserted her. Here was praise which was keen and analytical. Miss Molyneux kissed her again, and she let the two depart. After it,without rejoining Henrietta and Ralph, she retreated to her own room; inwhich apartment, before dinner, she was found by Mrs. Touchett, who hadstopped on her way to the salon. “I may as well tell you,” said thatlady, “that your uncle has informed me of your relations with LordWarburton.” Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. She was so overcomeshe could not speak. “That’s your privilege,” Ralph answered, who had not been used to beingso crudely addressed. He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, under the influenceof his plea. "I don't know, sir," said Olsen. "We have about all the help we need. Ithink I could find something, sir, though, if you like." What little there was must at any rate be husbanded to the utmost; shecould not trust herself again to the perils of a sleepless night.Through the long hours of silence the dark spirit of fatigue andloneliness crouched upon her breast, leaving her so drained of bodilystrength that her morning thoughts swam in a haze of weakness. The onlyhope of renewal lay in the little bottle at her bed-side; and how muchlonger that hope would last she dared not conjecture. "People can't marry you if they don't see you--and how can they see youin these holes where we're stuck?" That was the burden of her lament; andher last adjuration to her daughter was to escape from dinginess if shecould. Caspar watched her with intense interest. “Is he an Englishman?” "I'm not keeping anybody waiting," returned Jessica, sharply, stirredout of a cynical indifference to a sharp defence. "I said I wasn'thungry. I don't want any breakfast." One day the following February he was sent on an errand to a large coalcompany's office. It had been snowing and thawing and the streets weresloppy. He soaked his shoes in his progress and came back feeling dulland weary. All the next day he felt unusually depressed and sat about asmuch as possible, to the irritation of those who admired energy inothers.

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