The immediate result of this was nothing. Results from such things areusually long in growing. Morning brings a change of feeling. Theexistent condition invariably pleads for itself. It is only at oddmoments that we get glimpses of the misery of things. The heartunderstands when it is confronted with contrasts. Take them away and theache subsides.

Carrie went on, leading much this same life for six months thereafter ormore. She did not see Ames any more. He called once upon the Vances, butshe only heard about it through the young wife. Then he went West, andthere was a gradual subsidence of whatever personal attraction hadexisted. The mental effect of the thing had not gone, however, and neverwould entirely. She had an ideal to contrast men by--particularly menclose to her.

During all this time--a period rapidly approaching threeyears--Hurstwood had been moving along in an even path. There was noapparent slope downward, and distinctly none upward, so far as thecasual observer might have seen. But psychologically there was a change,which was marked enough to suggest the future very distinctly indeed.This was in the mere matter of the halt his career had received when hedeparted from Chicago. A man's fortune or material progress is very muchthe same as his bodily growth. Either he is growing stronger, healthier,wiser, as the youth approaching manhood, or he is growing weaker,older, less incisive mentally, as the man approaching old age. There areno other states. Frequently there is a period between the cessation ofyouthful accretion and the setting in, in the case of the middle-agedman, of the tendency toward decay when the two processes are almostperfectly balanced and there is little doing in either direction. Giventime enough, however, the balance becomes a sagging to the grave side.Slowly at first, then with a modest momentum, and at last the gravewardprocess is in the full swing. So it is frequently with man's fortune. Ifits process of accretion is never halted, if the balancing stage isnever reached, there will be no toppling. Rich men are, frequently, inthese days, saved from this dissolution of their fortune by theirability to hire younger brains. These younger brains look upon theinterests of the fortune as their own, and so steady and direct itsprogress. If each individual were left absolutely to the care of his owninterests, and were given time enough in which to grow exceedingly old,his fortune would pass as his strength and will. He and his would beutterly dissolved and scattered unto the four winds of the heavens.

But now see wherein the parallel changes. A fortune, like a man, is anorganism which draws to itself other minds and other strength than thatinherent in the founder. Beside the young minds drawn to it by salaries,it becomes allied with young forces, which make for its existence evenwhen the strength and wisdom of the founder are fading. It may beconserved by the growth of a community or of a state. It may be involvedin providing something for which there is a growing demand. This removesit at once beyond the special care of the founder. It needs not so muchforesight now as direction. The man wanes, the need continues or grows,and the fortune, fallen into whose hands it may, continues. Hence, somemen never recognise the turning in the tide of their abilities. It isonly in chance cases, where a fortune or a state of success is wrestedfrom them, that the lack of ability to do as they did formerly becomesapparent. Hurstwood, set down under new conditions, was in a position tosee that he was no longer young. If he did not, it was due wholly to thefact that his state was so well balanced that an absolute change for theworse did not show.

Not trained to reason or introspect himself, he could not analyse thechange that was taking place in his mind, and hence his body, but hefelt the depression of it. Constant comparison between his old state andhis new showed a balance for the worse, which produced a constant stateof gloom or, at least, depression. Now, it has been shown experimentallythat a constantly subdued frame of mind produces certain poisons in theblood, called katastates, just as virtuous feelings of pleasure anddelight produce helpful chemicals called anastates. The poisonsgenerated by remorse inveigh against the system, and eventually producemarked physical deterioration. To these Hurstwood was subject.

In the course of time it told upon his temper. His eye no longerpossessed that buoyant, searching shrewdness which had characterised itin Adams Street. His step was not as sharp and firm. He was given tothinking, thinking, thinking. The new friends he made were notcelebrities. They were of a cheaper, a slightly more sensual and cruder,grade. He could not possibly take the pleasure in this company that hehad in that of those fine frequenters of the Chicago resort. He was leftto brood.

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.

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!

If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so common a type ofmind--that such feelings require a higher mental development--I wouldurge for their consideration the fact that it is the higher mentaldevelopment that does away with such thoughts. It is the higher mentaldevelopment which induces philosophy and that fortitude which refuses todwell upon such things--refuses to be made to suffer by theirconsideration. The common type of mind is exceedingly keen on allmatters which relate to its physical welfare--exceedingly keen. It isthe unintellectual miser who sweats blood at the loss of a hundreddollars. It is the Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige ofphysical welfare is removed.

The time came, in the third year, when this thinking began to produceresults in the Warren Street place. The tide of patronage dropped alittle below what it had been at its best since he had been there. Thisirritated and worried him.

There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that the business was notdoing as well this month as it had the month before. This was in lieu ofcertain suggestions she had made concerning little things she wanted tobuy. She had not failed to notice that he did not seem to consult herabout buying clothes for himself. For the first time, it struck her as aruse, or that he said it so that she would not think of asking forthings. Her reply was mild enough, but her thoughts were rebellious. Hewas not looking after her at all. She was depending for her enjoymentupon the Vances.

And now the latter announced that they were going away. It wasapproaching spring, and they were going North.

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, "we think we might as well give upthe flat and store our things. We'll be gone for the summer, and itwould be a useless expense. I think we'll settle a little farther downtown when we come back."

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.

Hurstwood's gloom over the slight decrease in profits and the departureof the Vances came together. So Carrie had loneliness and this mood ofher husband to enjoy at the same time. It was a grievous thing. Shebecame restless and dissatisfied, not exactly, as she thought, withHurstwood, but with life. What was it? A very dull round indeed. Whatdid she have? Nothing but this narrow, little flat. The Vances couldtravel, they could do the things worth doing, and here she was. For whatwas she made, anyhow? More thought followed, and then tears--tearsseemed justified, and the only relief in the world.

For another period this state continued, the twain leading a rathermonotonous life, and then there was a slight change for the worse. Oneevening, Hurstwood, after thinking about a way to modify Carrie's desirefor clothes and the general strain upon his ability to provide, said:

"I don't think I'll ever be able to do much with Shaughnessy."

"What's the matter?" said Carrie.

"Oh, he's a slow, greedy 'mick'! He won't agree to anything to improvethe place, and it won't ever pay without it."

"Can't you make him?" said Carrie.

"No; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want to improve, is toget hold of a place of my own."

"Why don't you?" said Carrie.

"Well, all I have is tied up in there just now. If I had a chance tosave a while I think I could open a place that would give us plenty ofmoney."

"Can't we save?" said Carrie.

"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."

"It would suit me all right," said Carrie, who, nevertheless, felt badlyto think it had come to this. Talk of a smaller flat sounded likepoverty.

"There are lots of nice little flats down around Sixth Avenue, belowFourteenth Street. We might get one down there."

"I'll look at them if you say so," said Carrie.

"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."

"I'll look around," said Carrie, observing that the proposed changeseemed to be a serious thing with him.

The upshot of this was that the change was eventually effected; notwithout great gloom on the part of Carrie. It really affected her moreseriously than anything that had yet happened. She began to look uponHurstwood wholly as a man, and not as a lover or husband. She feltthoroughly bound to him as a wife, and that her lot was cast with his,whatever it might be; but she began to see that he was gloomy andtaciturn, not a young, strong, and buoyant man. He looked a little bitold to her about the eyes and mouth now, and there were other thingswhich placed him in his true rank, so far as her estimation wasconcerned. She began to feel that she had made a mistake. Incidentally,she also began to recall the fact that he had practically forced her toflee with him.

The new flat was located in Thirteenth Street, a half block west ofSixth Avenue, and contained only four rooms. The new neighbourhood didnot appeal to Carrie as much. There were no trees here, no west view ofthe river. The street was solidly built up. There were twelve familieshere, respectable enough, but nothing like the Vances. Richer peoplerequired more space.

Being left alone in this little place, Carrie did without a girl. Shemade it charming enough, but could not make it delight her. Hurstwoodwas not inwardly pleased to think that they should have to modify theirstate, but he argued that he could do nothing. He must put the best faceon it, and let it go at that.

He tried to show Carrie that there was no cause for financial alarm, butonly congratulation over the chance he would have at the end of the yearby taking her rather more frequently to the theatre and by providing aliberal table. This was for the time only. He was getting in the frameof mind where he wanted principally to be alone and to be allowed tothink. The disease of brooding was beginning to claim him as a victim.Only the newspapers and his own thoughts were worth while. The delightof love had again slipped away. It was a case of live, now, making thebest you can out of a very commonplace station in life.

The road downward has but few landings and level places. The very stateof his mind, superinduced by his condition, caused the breach to widenbetween him and his partner. At last that individual began to wish thatHurstwood was out of it. It so happened, however, that a real estatedeal on the part of the owner of the land arranged things even moreeffectually than ill-will could have schemed.

"Did you see that?" said Shaughnessy one morning to Hurstwood, pointingto the real estate column in a copy of the "Herald," which he held.

"No, what is it?" said Hurstwood, looking down the items of news.

"The man who owns this ground has sold it."

"You don't say so?" said Hurstwood.

He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August Viele had yesterdayregistered the transfer of the lot, 25 × 75 feet, at the corner ofWarren and Hudson streets, to J. F. Slawson for the sum of $57,000.

"Our lease expires when?" asked Hurstwood, thinking. "Next February,isn't it?"

"That's right," said Shaughnessy.

"It doesn't say what the new man's going to do with it," remarkedHurstwood, looking back to the paper.

"We'll hear, I guess, soon enough," said Shaughnessy.

Sure enough, it did develop. Mr. Slawson owned the property adjoining,and was going to put up a modern office building. The present one was tobe torn down. It would take probably a year and a half to complete theother one.

All these things developed by degrees, and Hurstwood began to ponderover what would become of the saloon. One day he spoke about it to hispartner.

"Do you think it would be worth while to open up somewhere else in theneighbourhood?"

"What would be the use?" said Shaughnessy. "We couldn't get anothercorner around here."

"It wouldn't pay anywhere else, do you think?"

"I wouldn't try it," said the other.

The approaching change now took on a most serious aspect to Hurstwood.Dissolution meant the loss of his thousand dollars, and he could notsave another thousand in the time. He understood that Shaughnessy wasmerely tired of the arrangement, and would probably lease the newcorner, when completed, alone. He began to worry about the necessity ofa new connection and to see impending serious financial straits unlesssomething turned up. This left him in no mood to enjoy his flat orCarrie, and consequently the depression invaded that quarter.

Meanwhile, he took such time as he could to look about, butopportunities were not numerous. More, he had not the same impressivepersonality which he had when he first came to New York. Bad thoughtshad put a shade into his eyes which did not impress others favourably.Neither had he thirteen hundred dollars in hand to talk with. About amonth later, finding that he had not made any progress, Shaughnessyreported definitely that Slawson would not extend the lease.

"I guess this thing's got to come to an end," he said, affecting an airof concern.

"Well, if it has, it has," answered Hurstwood, grimly. He would not givethe other a key to his opinions, whatever they were. He should not havethe satisfaction.

A day or two later he saw that he must say something to Carrie.

"You know," he said, "I think I'm going to get the worst of my deal downthere."

"How is that?" asked Carrie in astonishment.

"Well, the man who owns the ground has sold it, and the new owner won'tre-lease it to us. The business may come to an end."

"Can't you start somewhere else?"

"There doesn't seem to be any place. Shaughnessy doesn't want to."

"Do you lose what you put in?"

"Yes," said Hurstwood, whose face was a study.

"Oh, isn't that too bad?" said Carrie.

"It's a trick," said Hurstwood. "That's all. They'll start another placethere all right."

Carrie looked at him, and gathered from his whole demeanour what itmeant. It was serious, very serious.

"Do you think you can get something else?" she ventured, timidly.

Hurstwood thought a while. It was all up with the bluff about money andinvestment. She could see now that he was "broke."

"I don't know," he said solemnly; "I can try."