Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser [ebook reader below 3000 .TXT] 📗

with steady grace across the fields and through patches of wood. The long whistles came with sad, musical effect as the lonely woodland crossings were approached.

Now the conductor entered the car and took up the one or two fares that had been added at Chicago. He approached Hurstwood, who handed out the tickets. Poised as she was to act, Carrie made no move. She did not look about.

When the conductor had gone again Hurstwood felt relieved.

“You’re angry at me because I deceived you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to, Carrie. As I live I didn’t. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stay away from you after the first time I saw you.”

He was ignoring the last deception as something that might go by the board. He wanted to convince her that his wife could no longer be a factor in their relationship. The money he had stolen he tried to shut out of his mind.

“Don’t talk to me,” said Carrie, “I hate you. I want you to go away from me. I am going to get out at the very next station.”

She was in a tremble of excitement and opposition as she spoke.

“All right,” he said, “but you’ll hear me out, won’t you? After all you have said about loving me, you might hear me. I don’t want to do you any harm. I’ll give you the money to go back with when you go. I merely want to tell you, Carrie. You can’t stop me from loving you, whatever you may think.”

He looked at her tenderly, but received no reply.

“You think I have deceived you badly, but I haven’t. I didn’t do it willingly. I’m through with my wife. She hasn’t any claims on me. I’ll never see her any more. That’s why I’m here tonight. That’s why I came and got you.”

“You said Charlie was hurt,” said Carrie, savagely. “You deceived me. You’ve been deceiving me all the time, and now you want to force me to run away with you.”

She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by him again. He let her, and she took another seat. Then he followed.

“Don’t run away from me, Carrie,” he said gently. “Let me explain. If you will only hear me out you will see where I stand. I tell you my wife is nothing to me. She hasn’t been anything for years or I wouldn’t have ever come near you. I’m going to get a divorce just as soon as I can. I’ll never see her again. I’m done with all that. You’re the only person I want. If I can have you I won’t ever think of another woman again.”

Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It sounded sincere enough, however, despite all he had done. There was a tenseness in Hurstwood’s voice and manner which could but have some effect. She did not want anything to do with him. He was married, he had deceived her once, and now again, and she thought him terrible. Still there is something in such daring and power which is fascinating to a woman, especially if she can be made to feel that it is all prompted by love of her.

The progress of the train was having a great deal to do with the solution of this difficult situation. The speeding wheels and disappearing country put Chicago farther and farther behind. Carrie could feel that she was being borne a long distance off⁠—that the engine was making an almost through run to some distant city. She felt at times as if she could cry out and make such a row that someone would come to her aid; at other times it seemed an almost useless thing⁠—so far was she from any aid, no matter what she did. All the while Hurstwood was endeavouring to formulate his plea in such a way that it would strike home and bring her into sympathy with him.

“I was simply put where I didn’t know what else to do.”

Carrie deigned no suggestion of hearing this.

“When I saw you wouldn’t come unless I could marry you, I decided to put everything else behind me and get you to come away with me. I’m going off now to another city. I want to go to Montreal for a while, and then anywhere you want to. We’ll go and live in New York, if you say.”

“I’ll not have anything to do with you,” said Carrie. “I want to get off this train. Where are we going?”

“To Detroit,” said Hurstwood.

“Oh!” said Carrie, in a burst of anguish. So distant and definite a point seemed to increase the difficulty.

“Won’t you come along with me?” he said, as if there was great danger that she would not. “You won’t need to do anything but travel with me. I’ll not trouble you in any way. You can see Montreal and New York, and then if you don’t want to stay you can go back. It will be better than trying to go back tonight.”

The first gleam of fairness shone in this proposition for Carrie. It seemed a plausible thing to do, much as she feared his opposition if she tried to carry it out. Montreal and New York! Even now she was speeding toward those great, strange lands, and could see them if she liked. She thought, but made no sign.

Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in this. He redoubled his ardour.

“Think,” he said, “what I’ve given up. I can’t go back to Chicago any more. I’ve got to stay away and live alone now, if you don’t come with me. You won’t go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?”

“I don’t want you to talk to me,” she answered forcibly.

Hurstwood kept silent for a while.

Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the moment to act if she was to act at all. She stirred uneasily.

“Don’t think of going, Carrie,” he said. “If you ever cared for me at all, come along