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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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High overhead was the clear blue sky of the new summer, and in the thickness of the shiny green leaves of the trees hopped and twittered the busy sparrows. Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling much of the same old annoyance. At his store he had idled, there being no need to write. He had come away to this place with the lightness of heart which characterises those who put weariness behind. Now, in the shade of this cool, green bush, he looked about him with the fancy of the lover. He heard the carts go lumbering by upon the neighbouring streets, but they were far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the surrounding city was faint, the clang of an occasional bell was as music. He looked and dreamed a new dream of pleasure which concerned his present fixed condition not at all. He got back in fancy to the old Hurstwood, who was neither married nor fixed in a solid position for life. He remembered the light spirit in which he once looked after the girls-how he had danced, escorted them home, hung over their gates. He almost wished he was back there again-here in this pleasant scene he felt as if he were wholly free. At two Carrie came tripping along the walk toward him, rosy and clean. She had just recently donned a sailor hat for the season with a hand of pretty white- dotted blue silk. Her skirt was of a rich blue material, and her shirt waist matched it, with a thin stripe of blue upon a snow-white ground-stripes that were as fine as hairs. Her brown shoes peeped occasionally from beneath her skirt. She carried her gloves in her hand. Hurstwood looked up at her with delight. "You came, dearest," he said eagerly, standing to meet her and taking her hand. "Of course," she said, smiling; "did you think I wouldn’t?" "I didn’t know," he replied. He looked at her forehead, which was moist from her brisk walk. Then he took out one of his own soft, scented silk handkerchiefs and touched her face here and there. "Now," he said affectionately, "you’re all right." They were happy in being near one another-in looking into each other’s eyes. Finally, when the long flush of delight had subsided, he said: "When is Charlie going away again?" "I don’t know," she answered. "He says he has some things to do for the house here now." Hurstwood grew serious, and he lapsed into quiet thought. He looked up after a time to say: "Come away and leave him." He turned his eyes to the boys with the boats, as if the request were of little importance. "Where would we go?" she asked in much the same manner, rolling her gloves, and looking into a neighbouring tree. "Where do you want to go?" he enquired. There was something in the tone in which he said this which made her feel as if she must record her feelings against any local habitation. "We can’t stay in Chicago," she replied. He had no thought that this was in her mind-that any removal would be suggested. "Why not?" he asked softly. "Oh, because," she said, "I wouldn’t want to." He listened to this, with but dull perception of what it meant. It had no serious ring to it. The question was not up for immediate decision. "I would have to give up my position," he said. The tone he used made it seem as if the matter deserved only slight consideration. Carrie thought a little, the while enjoying the pretty scene. "I wouldn’t like to live in Chicago and him here," she said, thinking of Drouet. "It’s a big town, dearest," Hurstwood answered. "It would be as good as moving to another part of the country to move to the South Side." He had fixed upon that region as an objective point. |
