Whatever a man like Hurstwood could be in Chicago, it is very evidentthat he would be but an inconspicuous drop in an ocean like New York. InChicago, whose population still ranged about 500,000, millionaires werenot numerous. The rich had not become so conspicuously rich as to drownall moderate incomes in obscurity. The attention of the inhabitants wasnot so distracted by local celebrities in the dramatic, artistic,social, and religious fields as to shut the well-positioned man fromview. In Chicago the two roads to distinction were politics and trade.In New York the roads were any one of a half-hundred, and each had beendiligently pursued by hundreds, so that celebrities were numerous. Thesea was already full of whales. A common fish must needs disappearwholly from view--remain unseen. In other words, Hurstwood was nothing.

There is a more subtle result of such a situation as this, which, thoughnot always taken into account, produces the tragedies of the world. Thegreat create an atmosphere which reacts badly upon the small. Thisatmosphere is easily and quickly felt. Walk among the magnificentresidences, the splendid equipages, the gilded shops, restaurants,resorts of all kinds; scent the flowers, the silks, the wines; drink ofthe laughter springing from the soul of luxurious content, of theglances which gleam like light from defiant spears; feel the quality ofthe smiles which cut like glistening swords and of strides born ofplace, and you shall know of what is the atmosphere of the high andmighty. Little use to argue that of such is not the kingdom ofgreatness, but so long as the world is attracted by this and the humanheart views this as the one desirable realm which it must attain, solong, to that heart, will this remain the realm of greatness. So long,also, will the atmosphere of this realm work its desperate results inthe soul of man. It is like a chemical reagent. One day of it, like onedrop of the other, will so affect and discolour the views, the aims, thedesire of the mind, that it will thereafter remain forever dyed. A dayof it to the untried mind is like opium to the untried body. A cravingis set up which, if gratified, shall eternally result in dreams anddeath. Aye! dreams unfulfilled--gnawing, luring, idle phantoms whichbeckon and lead, beckon and lead, until death and dissolution dissolvetheir power and restore us blind to nature's heart.

A man of Hurstwood's age and temperament is not subject to the illusionsand burning desires of youth, but neither has he the strength of hopewhich gushes as a fountain in the heart of youth. Such an atmospherecould not incite in him the cravings of a boy of eighteen, but in so faras they were excited, the lack of hope made them proportionately bitter.He could not fail to notice the signs of affluence and luxury on everyhand. He had been to New York before and knew the resources of itsfolly. In part it was an awesome place to him, for here gathered allthat he most respected on this earth--wealth, place, and fame. Themajority of the celebrities with whom he had tipped glasses in his dayas manager hailed from this self-centred and populous spot. The mostinviting stories of pleasure and luxury had been told of places andindividuals here. He knew it to be true that unconsciously he wasbrushing elbows with fortune the livelong day; that a hundred or fivehundred thousand gave no one the privilege of living more thancomfortably in so wealthy a place. Fashion and pomp required more amplesums, so that the poor man was nowhere. All this he realised, now quitesharply, as he faced the city, cut off from his friends, despoiled ofhis modest fortune, and even his name, and forced to begin the battlefor place and comfort all over again. He was not old, but he was not sodull but that he could feel he soon would be. Of a sudden, then, thisshow of fine clothes, place, and power took on peculiar significance. Itwas emphasised by contrast with his own distressing state.

And it was distressing. He soon found that freedom from fear of arrestwas not the _sine qua non_ of his existence. That danger dissolved, thenext necessity became the grievous thing. The paltry sum of thirteenhundred and some odd dollars set against the need of rent, clothing,food, and pleasure for years to come was a spectacle little calculatedto induce peace of mind in one who had been accustomed to spend fivetimes that sum in the course of a year. He thought upon the subjectrather actively the first few days he was in New York, and decided thathe must act quickly. As a consequence, he consulted the businessopportunities advertised in the morning papers and began investigationson his own account.

That was not before he had become settled, however. Carrie and he wentlooking for a flat, as arranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Streetnear Amsterdam Avenue. It was a five-story building, and their flat wason the third floor. Owing to the fact that the street was not yet builtup solidly, it was possible to see east to the green tops of the treesin Central Park and west to the broad waters of the Hudson, a glimpse ofwhich was to be had out of the west windows. For the privilege of sixrooms and a bath, running in a straight line, they were compelled to paythirty-five dollars a month--an average, and yet exorbitant, rent for ahome at the time. Carrie noticed the difference between the size of therooms here and in Chicago and mentioned it.

"You'll not find anything better, dear," said Hurstwood, "unless you gointo one of the old-fashioned houses, and then you won't have any ofthese conveniences."

Carrie picked out the new abode because of its newness and brightwood-work. It was one of the very new ones supplied with steam heat,which was a great advantage. The stationary range, hot and cold water,dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for the janitor pleased hervery much. She had enough of the instincts of a housewife to take greatsatisfaction in these things.

Hurstwood made arrangement with one of the instalment houses wherebythey furnished the flat complete and accepted fifty dollars down and tendollars a month. He then had a little plate, bearing the name G. W.Wheeler, made, which he placed on his letter-box in the hall. It soundedexceedingly odd to Carrie to be called Mrs. Wheeler by the janitor, butin time she became used to it and looked upon the name as her own.

These house details settled, Hurstwood visited some of the advertisedopportunities to purchase an interest in some flourishing down-town bar.After the palatial resort in Adams Street, he could not stomach thecommonplace saloons which he found advertised. He lost a number of dayslooking up these and finding them disagreeable. He did, however, gainconsiderable knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influence ofTammany Hall and the value of standing in with the police. The mostprofitable and flourishing places he found to be those which conductedanything but a legitimate business, such as that controlled byFitzgerald and Moy. Elegant back rooms and private drinking booths onthe second floor were usually adjuncts of very profitable places. He sawby portly keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, andwhose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor business here, aselsewhere, yielded the same golden profit.

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.

"We deal with a very good class of people," he told Hurstwood."Merchants, salesmen, and professionals. It's a well-dressed class. Nobums. We don't allow 'em in the place."

Hurstwood listened to the cash-register ring, and watched the trade fora while.

"It's profitable enough for two, is it?" he asked.

"You can see for yourself if you're any judge of the liquor trade," saidthe owner. "This is only one of the two places I have. The other is downin Nassau Street. I can't tend to them both alone. If I had some one whoknew the business thoroughly I wouldn't mind sharing with him in thisone and letting him manage it."

"I've had experience enough," said Hurstwood blandly, but he felt alittle diffident about referring to Fitzgerald and Moy.

"Well, you can suit yourself, Mr. Wheeler," said the proprietor.

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.

The offer was genuine enough, but it was a question with Hurstwoodwhether a third interest in that locality could be made to yield onehundred and fifty dollars a month, which he figured he must have inorder to meet the ordinary family expenses and be comfortable. It wasnot the time, however, after many failures to find what he wanted, tohesitate. It looked as though a third would pay a hundred a month now.By judicious management and improvement, it might be made to pay more.Accordingly he agreed to enter into partnership, and made over histhousand dollars, preparing to enter the next day.

His first inclination was to be elated, and he confided to Carrie thathe thought he had made an excellent arrangement. Time, however,introduced food for reflection. He found his partner to be verydisagreeable. Frequently he was the worse for liquor, which made himsurly. This was the last thing which Hurstwood was used to in business.Besides, the business varied. It was nothing like the class of patronagewhich he had enjoyed in Chicago. He found that it would take a long timeto make friends. These people hurried in and out without seeking thepleasures of friendship. It was no gathering or lounging place. Wholedays and weeks passed without one such hearty greeting as he had beenwont to enjoy every day in Chicago.

For another thing, Hurstwood missed the celebrities--those well-dressed,_élite_ individuals who lend grace to the average bars and bring newsfrom far-off and exclusive circles. He did not see one such in a month.Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally read in theevening papers incidents concerning celebrities whom he knew--whom hehad drunk a glass with many a time. They would visit a bar likeFitzgerald and Moy's in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, uptown, but heknew that he would never see them down here.

Again, the business did not pay as well as he thought. It increased alittle, but he found he would have to watch his household expenses,which was humiliating.

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.

The first month had scarcely passed before Carrie said in a very naturalway: "I think I'll go down this week and buy a dress."

"What kind?" said Hurstwood.

"Oh, something for street wear."

"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:

"Have you done anything about your dress?"

"Not yet," said Carrie.

He paused a few moments, as if in thought, and then said:

"Would you mind putting it off a few days?"

"No," replied Carrie, who did not catch the drift of his remarks. Shehad never thought of him in connection with money troubles before."Why?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said Hurstwood. "This investment of mine istaking a lot of money just now. I expect to get it all back shortly, butjust at present I am running close."

"Oh!" answered Carrie. "Why, certainly, dear. Why didn't you tell mebefore?"

"It wasn't necessary," said Hurstwood.

For all her acquiescence, there was something about the way Hurstwoodspoke which reminded Carrie of Drouet and his little deal which he wasalways about to put through. It was only the thought of a second, but itwas a beginning. It was something new in her thinking of Hurstwood.

Other things followed from time to time, little things of the same sort,which in their cumulative effect were eventually equal to a fullrevelation. Carrie was not dull by any means. Two persons cannot longdwell together without coming to an understanding of one another. Themental difficulties of an individual reveal themselves whether hevoluntarily confesses them or not. Trouble gets in the air andcontributes gloom, which speaks for itself. Hurstwood dressed as nicelyas usual, but they were the same clothes he had in Canada. Carrienoticed that he did not install a large wardrobe, though his own wasanything but large. She noticed, also, that he did not suggest manyamusements, said nothing about the food, seemed concerned about hisbusiness. This was not the easy Hurstwood of Chicago--not the liberal,opulent Hurstwood she had known. The change was too obvious to escapedetection.

In time she began to feel that a change had come about, and that shewas not in his confidence. He was evidently secretive and kept his owncounsel. She found herself asking him questions about little things.This is a disagreeable state to a woman. Great love makes it seemreasonable, sometimes plausible, but never satisfactory. Where greatlove is not, a more definite and less satisfactory conclusion isreached.

As for Hurstwood, he was making a great fight against the difficultiesof a changed condition. He was too shrewd not to realise the tremendousmistake he had made, and appreciate that he had done well in gettingwhere he was, and yet he could not help contrasting his present statewith his former, hour after hour, and day after day.

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.

"How are you?" he said, extending his hand with an evident mixture offeeling and a lack of plausible interest.

"Very well," said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed. "How is it with you?"

"All right; I'm down here doing a little buying. Are you located herenow?"

"Yes," said Hurstwood, "I have a place down in Warren Street."

"Is that so?" said the friend. "Glad to hear it. I'll come down and seeyou."

"Do," said Hurstwood.

"So long," said the other, smiling affably and going on.

"He never asked for my number," thought Hurstwood; "he wouldn't think ofcoming." He wiped his forehead, which had grown damp, and hopedsincerely he would meet no one else.

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.