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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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And yet she was not without thoughts which were disturbing. What did he know? What had Drouet told him? Was she a wife in his eyes, or what? Would he marry her? Even while he talked, and she softened, and her eyes were lighted with a tender glow, she was asking herself if Drouet had told him they were not married. There was never anything at all convincing about what Drouet said. And yet she was not grieved at Hurstwood’s love. No strain of bitterness was in it for her, whatever he knew. He was evidently sincere. His passion was real and warm. There was power in what he said. What should she do? She went on thinking this, answering vaguely, languishing affectionately, and altogether drifting, until she was on a borderless sea of speculation. "Why don’t you come away?" he said, tenderly. "I will arrange for you whatever-" "Oh, don’t," said Carrie. "Don’t what?" he asked. "What do you mean?" There was a look of confusion and pain in her face. She was wondering why that miserable thought must be brought in. She was struck as by a blade with the miserable provision which was outside the pale of marriage. He himself realised that it was a wretched thing to have dragged in. He wanted to weigh the effects of it, and yet he could not see. He went beating on, flushed by her presence, clearly awakened, intensely enlisted in his plan. "Won’t you come?" he said, beginning over and with a more reverent feeling. "You know I can’t do without you-you know it-it can’t go on this way-can it?" "I know," said Carrie. "I wouldn’t ask if I-I wouldn’t argue with you if I could help it. Look at me, Carrie. Put yourself in my place. You don’t want to stay away from me, do you?" She shook her head as if in deep thought. "Then why not settle the whole thing, once and for all?" "I don’t know," said Carrie. "Don’t know! Ah, Carrie, what makes you say that? Don’t torment me. Be serious." "I am," said Carrie, softly. "You can’t be, dearest, and say that. Not when you know how I love you. Look at last night." His manner as he said this was the most quiet imaginable. His face and body retained utter composure. Only his eyes moved, and they flashed a subtle, dissolving fire. In them the whole intensity of the man’s nature was distilling itself. Carrie made no answer. "How can you act this way, dearest?" he inquired, after a time. "You love me, don’t you?" He turned on her such a storm of feeling that she was overwhelmed. For the moment all doubts were cleared away. "Yes," she answered, frankly and tenderly. "Well, then you’ll come, won’t you-come to-night?" Carrie shook her head in spite of her distress. "I can’t wait any longer," urged Hurstwood. "If that is too soon, come Saturday." "When will we be married?" she asked, diffidently, forgetting in her difficult situation that she had hoped he took her to be Drouet’s wife. The manager started, hit as he was by a problem which was more difficult than hers. He gave no sign of the thoughts that flashed like messages to his mind. "Any time you say," he said, with ease, refusing to discolour his present delight with this miserable problem. "Saturday?" asked Carrie. He nodded his head. "Well, if you will marry me then," she said, "I’ll go." |
