An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

was for him to stand back and make suggestions, while she

was confronted with the necessity of going forward, and

that alone, but also that he was really thinking more of

himself than he was of her—some way to make her get

herself out of it inexpensively and without any real trouble to

him.

At the same time, even here and now, in spite of all this,

she was still decidedly drawn to him—his white face, his

thin hands, nervous manner. And although she knew he

talked to encourage her to do what he had not the courage

or skill to do himself, she was not angry. Rather, she was

merely saying to herself in this crisis that although he

advised so freely she was not going to pay attention to him

—much. What she was going to say was not that she was

deserted, for that seemed too much of a disagreeable and

self-incriminating remark for her to make concerning

herself, but rather that she was married and that she and

her young husband were too poor to have a baby as yet—

the same story Clyde had told the druggist in Schenectady,

as she recalled. For after all, what did he know about how

she felt? And he was not going with her to make it easier

for her.

Yet dominated by the purely feminine instinct to cling to

some one for support, she now turned to Clyde, taking hold

of his hands and standing quite still, wishing that he would

hold and pet her and tell her that it was all right and that

she must not be afraid. And although he no longer cared for

her, now in the face of this involuntary evidence of her

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former trust in him, he released both hands and putting his

arms about her, the more to encourage her than anything

else, observed: “Come on now, Bert. Gee, you can’t act like

this, you know. You don’t want to lose your nerve now that

we’re here, do you? It won’t be so hard once you get there.

I know it won’t. All you got to do is to go up and ring the

bell, see, and when he comes, or whoever comes, just say

you want to see the doctor alone, see. Then he’ll

understand it’s something private and it’ll be easier.”

He went on with more advice of the same kind, and she,

realizing from his lack of spontaneous enthusiasm for her at

this moment how desperate was her state, drew herself

together as vigorously as she could, and saying: “Well, wait

here, then, will you? Don’t go very far away, will you? I may

be right back,” hurried along in the shadow through the gate

and up a walk which led to the front door.

In answer to her ring the door was opened by one of those

exteriorly as well as mentally sober, small-town practitioners

who, Clyde’s and Short’s notion to the contrary

notwithstanding, was the typical and fairly conservative

physician of the countryside—solemn, cautious, moral,

semi-religious to a degree, holding some views which he

considered liberal and others which a fairly liberal person

would have considered narrow and stubborn into the

bargain. Yet because of the ignorance and stupidity of so

many of those about him, he was able to consider himself

at least fairly learned. In constant touch with all phases of

ignorance and dereliction as well as sobriety, energy,

conservatism, success and the like, he was more inclined,

where fact appeared to nullify his early conclusion in regard

to many things, to suspend judgment between the alleged

claims of heaven and hell and leave it there suspended and

undisturbed. Physically he was short, stocky, bullet-headed

and yet interestingly-featured, with quick gray eyes and a

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589

pleasant mouth and smile. His short iron-gray hair was

worn “bangs” fashion, a bit of rural vanity. And his arms and

hands, the latter fat and pudgy, yet sensitive, hung limply at

his sides. He was fifty-eight, married, the father of three

children, one of them a son already studying medicine in

order to succeed to his father’s practice.

After showing Roberta into a littered and commonplace

waiting room and asking her to remain until he had finished

his dinner, he presently appeared in the door of an equally

commonplace inner room, or office, where were his desk,

two chairs, some medical instruments, books and

apparently an ante-chamber containing other medical

things, and motioned her to a chair. And because of his

grayness, solidity, stolidity, as well as an odd habit he had

of blinking his eyes, Roberta was not a little overawed,

though by no means so unfavorably impressed as she had

feared she might be. At least he was old and he seemed

intelligent and conservative, if not exactly sympathetic or

warm in his manner. And after looking at her curiously a

moment, as though seeking to recognize some one of the

immediate vicinity, he began: “Well, now who is this,

please? And what can I do for you?” His voice was low and

quite reassuring—a fact for which Roberta was deeply

grateful.

At the same time, startled by the fact that at last she had

reached the place and the moment when, if ever, she must

say the degrading truth about herself, she merely sat there,

her eyes first upon him, then upon the floor, her fingers

beginning to toy with the handle of the small bag she

carried.

“You see, well,” she began, earnestly and nervously, her

whole manner suddenly betraying the terrific strain under

which she was laboring. “I came … I came … that is … I

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590

don’t know whether I can tell you about myself or not. I

thought I could just before I came in, but now that I am here

and I see you …” She paused and moved back in her chair

as though to rise, at the same time that she added: “Oh,

dear, how very dreadful it all is. I’m so nervous and …”

“Well, now, my dear,” he resumed, pleasantly and

reassuringly, impressed by her attractive and yet sober

appearance and wondering for the moment what could

have upset so clean, modest and sedate-looking a girl, and

hence not a little amused by her “now that I see

you,”—“Just what is there about me ‘now that you see me,’”

he repeated after her, “that so frightens you? I am only a

country doctor, you know, and I hope I’m not as dreadful as

you seem to think. You can be sure that you can tell me

anything you wish—anything at all about yourself—and you

needn’t be afraid. If there’s anything I can do for you, I’ll do

it.”

He was decidedly pleasant, as she now thought, and yet so

sober and reserved and probably conventional withal that

what she was holding in mind to tell him would probably

shock him not a little—and then what? Would he do

anything for her? And if he would, how was she to arrange

about money, for that certainly would be a point in

connection with all this? If only Clyde or some one were

here to speak for her. And yet she must speak now that she

was here. She could not leave without. Once more she

moved and twisted, seizing nervously on a large button of

her coat to turn between her thumb and forefinger, and then

went on chokingly.

“But this is … this is … well, something different, you know,

maybe not what you think…. I … I … well …”

Again she paused, unable to proceed, shading from white

to red and back as she spoke. And because of the troubled

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modesty of her approach, as well as a certain clarity of eye,

whiteness of forehead, sobriety of manner and dress, the

doctor could scarcely bring himself to think for a moment

that this was anything other than one of those morbid

exhibitions of innocence, or rather inexperience, in

connection with everything relating to the human body—so

characteristic of the young and unsophisticated in some

instances. And so he was about to repeat his customary

formula in such cases that all could be told to him without

fear or hesitation, whatever it might be, when a secondary

thought, based on Roberta’s charm and vigor, as well as

her own thought waves attacking his cerebral receptive

centers, caused him to decide that he might be wrong. After

all, why might not this be another of those troublesome

youthful cases in which possibly immorality and illegitimacy

was involved. She was so young, healthy and attractive,

besides, they were always cropping up, these cases,—in

connection with the most respectable-looking girls at times.

And invariably they spelled trouble and distress for doctors.

And, for various reasons connected with his own

temperament, which was retiring and recessive, as well as

the nature of this local social world, he disliked and