An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

his manner changed from one of comparatively affable, if

nervous, consideration to that of mingled fear, opposition as

well as determination to evade drastic consequence. For

this would spell complete ruin for him, the loss of Sondra,

his job, his social hopes and ambitions in connection with

the Griffiths—all—a thought which sickened and at the

same time caused him to hesitate about how to proceed.

But he would not! he would not! He would not do this!

Never! Never!! Never!!!

Yet after a moment he exclaimed equivocally: “Well, gee,

that’s all right, too, Bert, for you, because that fixes

everything without any trouble at all. But what about me?

You don’t want to forget that that isn’t going to be easy for

me, the way things are now. You know I haven’t any

money. All I have is my job. And besides, the family don’t

know anything about you yet—not a thing. And if it should

suddenly come out now that we’ve been going together all

this time, and that this has happened, and that I was going

to have to get married right away, well, gee, they’ll know

I’ve been fooling ’em and they’re sure to get sore. And then

what? They might even fire me.”

He paused to see what effect this explanation would have,

but noting the somewhat dubious expression which of late

characterized Roberta’s face whenever he began excusing

himself, he added hopefully and evasively, seeking by any

trick that he could to delay this sudden issue: “Besides, I’m

not so sure that I can’t find a doctor yet, either. I haven’t

had much luck so far, but that’s not saying that I won’t. And

there’s a little time yet, isn’t there? Sure there is. It’s all right

up to three months anyway.” (He had since had a letter

from Ratterer who had commented on this fact.) “And I did

hear something the other day of a doctor over in Albany

An American Tragedy

611

who might do it. Anyway, I thought I’d go over and see

before I said anything about him.”

His manner, when he said this, was so equivocal that Ro

berta could tell he was merely lying to gain time. There was

no doctor in Albany. Besides it was so plain that he

resented her suggestion and was only thinking of some way

of escaping it. And she knew well enough that at no time

had he said directly that he would marry her. And while she

might urge, in the last analysis she could not force him to

do anything. He might just go away alone, as he had once

said in connection with inadvertently losing his job because

of her. And how much greater might not his impulse in that

direction now be, if this world here in which he was so

much interested were taken away from him, and he were to

face the necessity of taking. her and a child, too. It made

her more cautious and caused her to modify her first

impulse to speak out definitely and forcefully, however great

her necessity might be. And so disturbed was he by the

panorama of the bright world of which Sondra was the

center and which was now at stake, that he could scarcely

think clearly. Should he lose all this for such a world as he

and Roberta could provide for themselves—a small home—

a baby, such a routine work-a-day life as taking care of her

and a baby on such a salary as he could earn, and from

which most likely he would never again be freed! God! A

sense of nausea seized him. He could not and would not do

this. And yet, as he now saw, all his dreams could be so

easily tumbled about his ears by her and because of one

false step on his part. It made him cautious and for the first

time in his life caused tact and cunning to visualize itself as

a profound necessity.

And at the same time, Clyde was sensing inwardly and

somewhat shamefacedly all of this profound change in

himself.

An American Tragedy

612

But Roberta was saying: “Oh, I know, Clyde, but you

yourself said just now that you were stumped, didn’t you?

And every day that goes by just makes it so much the

worse for me, if we’re not going to be able to get a doctor.

You can’t get married and have a child born within a few

months—you know that. Every one in the world would

know. Besides I have myself to consider as well as you, you

know. And the baby, too.” (At the mere mention of a coming

child Clyde winced and recoiled as though he had been

slapped. She noted it.) “I just must do one of two things

right away, Clyde—get married or get out of this and you

don’t seem to be able to get me out of it, do you? If you’re

so afraid of what your uncle might think or do in case we

get married,” she added nervously and yet suavely, “why

couldn’t we get married right away and then keep it a secret

for a while—as long as we could, or as long as you thought

we ought to,” she added shrewdly. “Meanwhile I could go

home and tell my parents about it—that I am married, but

that it must be kept a secret for a while. Then when the

time came, when things got so bad that we couldn’t stay

here any longer without telling, why we could either go

away somewhere, if we wanted to—that is, if you didn’t

want your uncle to know, or we could just announce that we

were married some time ago. Lots of young couples do that

nowadays. And as for getting along,” she went on, noting a

sudden dour shadow that passed over Clyde’s face like a

cloud, “why we could always find something to do—I know I

could, anyhow, once the baby is born.”

When first she began to speak, Clyde had seated himself

on the edge of the bed, listening nervously and dubiously to

all she had to offer. However, when she came to that part

which related to marriage and going away, he got up—an

irresistible impulse to move overcoming him. And when she

concluded with the commonplace suggestion of going to

An American Tragedy

613

work as soon as the baby was born, he looked at her with

little less than panic in his eyes. To think of marrying and

being in a position where it would be necessary to do that,

when with a little luck and without interference from her, he

might marry Sondra.

“Oh, yes, that’s all right for you, Bert. That fixes everything

up for you, but how about me? Why, gee whiz, I’ve only got

started here now as it is, and if I have to pack up and get

out, and I would have to, if ever they found out about this,

why I don’t know what I’d do. I haven’t any business or

trade that I could turn my hand to. It might go hard with both

of us. Besides my uncle gave me this chance because I

begged him to, and if I walked off now he never would do

anything for me.”

In his excitement he was forgetting that at one time and

another in the past he had indicated to Roberta that the

state of his own parents was not wholly unprosperous and

that if things did not go just to his liking here, he could

return west and perhaps find something to do out there.

And it was some general recollection of this that now

caused her to ask: “Couldn’t we go out to Denver or

something like that? Wouldn’t your father be willing to help

you get something for a time, anyhow?”

Her tone was very soft and pleading, an attempt to make

Clyde feel that things could not be as bad as he was

imagining. But the mere mention of his father in connection

with all this—the assumption that he, of all people, might

prove an escape from drudgery for them both, was a little

too much. It showed how dreadfully incomplete was her

understanding of his true position in this world. Worse, she

was looking for help from that quarter. And, not finding it,

later might possibly reproach him for that—who could tell—

for his lies in connection with it. It made so very clear now

An American Tragedy

614

the necessity for frustrating, if possible, and that at once,

any tendency toward this idea of marriage. It could not be—

ever.

And yet how was he to oppose this idea with safety, since

she felt that she had this claim on him—how say to her

openly and coldly that he could not and would not marry

her? And unless he did so now she might think it would be

fair and legitimate enough for her to compel him to do so.