he would accompany her—a request which, since he had
not succeeded in doing anything, and although he had an
engagement with Sondra, he instantly acceded to—feeling
it to be of greater importance than anything else. He must
excuse himself to Sondra on the ground of work.
And accordingly this second trip was made, a long and
nervous conversation between himself and Roberta on the
way resulting in nothing more than some explanations as to
why thus far he had not been able to achieve anything, plus
certain encomiums addressed to her concerning her
courage in acting for herself in this way.
An American Tragedy
606
Yet the doctor again would not and did not act. After waiting
nearly an hour for his return from somewhere, she was
merely permitted to tell him of her unchanged state and her
destroying fears in regard to herself, but with no hint from
him that he could be induced to act as indeed he could act.
It was against his prejudices and ethics.
And so once more Roberta returned, this time not crying,
actually too sad to cry, choked with the weight of her
impending danger and the anticipatory fears and miseries
that attended it.
And Clyde, hearing of this defeat, was at last reduced to a
nervous, gloomy silence, absolutely devoid of a helpful
suggestion. He could not think what to say and was chiefly
fearful lest Roberta now make some demand with which
socially or economically he could not comply. However, in
regard to this she said little on the way home. Instead she
sat and stared out of the window—thinking of her
defenseless predicament that was becoming more real and
terrible to her hourly. By way of excuse she pleaded that
she had a headache. She wanted to be alone—only to think
more—to try to work out a solution. She must work out
some way. That she knew. But what? How? What could
she do? How could she possibly escape? She felt like a
cornered animal fighting for its life with all odds against it,
and she thought of a thousand remote and entirely
impossible avenues of escape, only to return to the one and
only safe and sound solution that she really felt should be
possible—and that was marriage. And why not? Hadn’t she
given him all, and that against her better judgment? Hadn’t
he overpersuaded her? Who was he anyway to so cast her
aside? For decidedly at times, and especially since this
latest crisis had developed, his manner, because of Sondra
and the Griffiths and what he felt to be the fatal effect of all
An American Tragedy
607
this on his dreams here, was sufficient to make plain that
love was decidedly dead, and that he was not thinking
nearly so much of the meaning of her state to her, as he
was of its import to him, the injury that was most certain to
accrue to him. And when this did not completely terrify her,
as mostly it did, it served to irritate and slowly develop the
conclusion that in such a desperate state as this, she was
justified in asking more than ordinarily she would have
dreamed of asking, marriage itself, since there was no
other door. And why not? Wasn’t her life as good as his?
And hadn’t he joined his to hers, voluntarily? Then, why
shouldn’t he strive to help her now—or, failing that, make
this final sacrifice which was the only one by which she
could be rescued apparently. For who were all the society
people with whom he was concerned anyhow? And why
should he ask her in such a crisis to sacrifice herself, her
future and good name, just because of his interest in them?
They had never done anything very much for him, certainly
not as much as had she. And, just because he was
wearying now, after persuading her to do his bidding—was
that any reason why now, in this crisis, he should be
permitted to desert her? After all, wouldn’t all of these
society people in whom he was so much interested feel that
whatever his relationship to them, she would be justified in
taking the course which she might be compelled to take?
She brooded on this much, more especially on the return
from this second attempt to induce Dr. Glenn to help her. In
fact, at moments, her face took on a defiant, determined
look which was seemingly new to her, but which only
developed suddenly under such pressure. Her jaw became
a trifle set. She had made a decision. He would have to
marry her. She must make him if there were no other way
out of this. She must—she must. Think of her home, her
mother, Grace Marr, the Newtons, all who knew her in fact—
An American Tragedy
608
the terror and pain and shame with which this would sear
all those in any way identified with her—her father, brothers,
sisters. Impossible! Impossible! It must not and could not
be! Impossible. It might seem a little severe to her, even
now, to have to insist on this, considering all the emphasis
Clyde had hitherto laid upon his prospects here. But how,
how else was she to do?
Accordingly the next day, and not a little to his surprise,
since for so many hours the night before they had been
together, Clyde received another note telling him that he
must come again that night. She had something to say to
him, and there was something in the tone of the note that
seemed to indicate or suggest a kind of defiance of a
refusal of any kind, hitherto absent in any of her
communications to him. And at once the thought that this
situation, unless cleared away, was certain to prove
disastrous, so weighed upon him that he could not but put
the best face possible on it and consent to go and hear
what it was that she had to offer in the way of a solution—or
—on the other hand, of what she had to complain.
Going to her room at a late hour, he found her in what
seemed to him a more composed frame of mind than at
any time since this difficulty had appeared, a state which
surprised him a little, since he had expected to find her in
tears. But now, if anything, she appeared more complacent,
her nervous thoughts as to how to bring about a satisfactory
conclusion for herself having called into play a native
shrewdness which was now seeking to exercise itself.
And so directly before announcing what was in her mind,
she began by asking: “You haven’t found out about another
doctor, have you, Clyde, or thought of anything?”
“No, I haven’t, Bert,” he replied most dismally and
wearisomely, his own mental tether-length having been
An American Tragedy
609
strained to the breaking point. “I’ve been trying to, as you
know, but it’s so darn hard to find any one who isn’t afraid
to monkey with a case like this. Honest, to tell the truth,
Bert, I’m about stumped. I don’t know what we are going to
do unless you can think of something. You haven’t thought
or heard of any one else you could go to, have you?” For,
during the conversation that had immediately followed her
first visit to the doctor, he had hinted to her that by striking
up a fairly intimate relationship with one of the foreign family
girls, she might by degrees extract some information there
which would be of use to both. But Roberta was not of a
temperament that permitted of any such facile friendships,
and nothing had come of it.
However, his stating that he was “stumped” now gave her
the opportunity she was really desiring, to present the
proposition which she felt to be unavoidable and not longer
to be delayed. Yet being fearful of how Clyde would react,
she hesitated as to the form in which she would present it,
and, after shaking her head and manifesting a nervousness
which was real enough, she finally said: “Well, I’ll tell you,
Clyde. I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t see any way
out of it unless—unless you, well, marry me. It’s two months
now, you know, and unless we get married right away,
everybody’ll know, won’t they?”
Her manner as she said this was a mixture of outward
courage born out of her conviction that she was in the right
and an inward uncertainty about Clyde’s attitude, which was
all the more fused by a sudden look of surprise,
resentment, uncertainty and fear that now transformation-
wise played over his countenance; a variation and play
which, if it indicated anything definite, indicated that she
was seeking to inflict an unwarranted injury on him. For
since he had been drawing closer and closer to Sondra, his
hopes had heightened so intensely that, hearkening to this
An American Tragedy
610
demand on the part of Roberta now, his brow wrinkled and