An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

now stood there unable for the moment to think of anything

more to say.

And although there was some other discussion to the same

effect, the conclusion of this very difficult hour was that

Clyde had another week or two at best in which to see if he

could find a physician or any one who would assist him.

After that—well after that the implied, if not openly

expressed, threat which lay at the bottom of this was,

unless so extricated and speedily, that he would have to

marry her, if not permanently, then at least temporarily, but

legally just the same, until once again she was able to look

after herself—a threat which was as crushing and

humiliating to Roberta as it was torturing to him.

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Chapter 39

OPPOSING views such as these, especially where no real

skill to meet such a situation existed, could only spell

greater difficulty and even eventual disaster unless chance

in some form should aid. And chance did not aid. And the

presence of Roberta in the factory was something that

would not permit him to dismiss it from his mind. If only he

could persuade her to leave and go somewhere else to live

and work so that he should not always see her, he might

then think more calmly. For with her asking continuously, by

her presence if no more, what he intended to do, it was

impossible for him to think. And the fact that he no longer

cared for her as he had, tended to reduce his normal

consideration of what was her due. He was too infatuated

with, and hence disarranged by his thoughts of Sondra.

For in the very teeth of this grave dilemma he continued to

pursue the enticing dream in connection with Sondra—the

dark situation in connection with Roberta seeming no more

at moments than a dark cloud which shadowed this other.

And hence nightly, or as often as the exigencies of his still

unbroken connection with Roberta would permit, he was

availing himself of such opportunities as his flourishing

connections now afforded. Now, and to his great pride and

satisfaction, it was a dinner at the Harriets’ or Taylors’ to

which he was invited; or a party at the Finchleys’ or the

Cranstons’, to which he would either escort Sondra or be

animated by the hope of encountering her. And now, also

without so many of the former phases or attempts at

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subterfuge, which had previously characterized her curiosity

in regard to him, she was at times openly seeking him out

and making opportunities for social contact. And, of course,

these contacts being identical with this typical kind of group

gathering, they seemed to have no special significance with

the more conservative elders.

For although Mrs. Finchley, who was of an especially

shrewd and discerning turn socially, had at first been

dubious over the attentions being showered upon Clyde by

her daughter and others, still observing that Clyde was

more and more being entertained, not only in her own

home by the group of which her daughter was a part, but

elsewhere, everywhere, was at last inclined to imagine that

he must be more solidly placed in this world than she had

heard, and later to ask her son and even Sondra

concerning him. But receiving from Sondra only the

equivocal information that, since he was Gil and Bella

Griffiths’ cousin, and was being taken up by everybody

because he was so charming—even if he didn’t have any

money—she couldn’t see why she and Stuart should not be

allowed to entertain him also, her mother rested on that for

the time being—only cautioning her daughter under no

circumstances to become too friendly. And Sondra,

realizing that in part her mother was right, yet being so

drawn to Clyde was now determined to deceive her, at least

to the extent of being as clandestinely free with Clyde as

she could contrive. And was, so much so that every one

who was privy to the intimate contacts between Clyde and

Sondra might have reported that the actual understanding

between them was assuming an intensity which most

certainly would have shocked the elder Finchleys, could

they have known. For apart from what Clyde had been, and

still was dreaming in regard to her, Sondra was truly being

taken with thoughts and moods in regard to him which were

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fast verging upon the most destroying aspects of the very

profound chemistry of love. Indeed, in addition to

handclasps, kisses and looks of intense admiration always

bestowed when presumably no one was looking, there

were those nebulous and yet strengthening and

lengthening fantasies concerning a future which in some

way or other, not clear to either as yet, was still always to

include each other.

Summer days perhaps, and that soon, in which he and she

would be in a canoe at Twelfth Lake, the long shadows of

the trees on the bank lengthening over the silvery water,

the wind rippling the surface while he paddled and she idled

and tortured him with hints of the future; a certain forest

path, grass-sodden and sun-mottled to the south and west

of the Cranston and Phant estates, near theirs, through

which they might canter in June and July to a wonderful

view known as Inspiration Point some seven miles west;

the country fair at Sharon, at which, in a gypsy costume, the

essence of romance itself, she would superintend a booth,

or, in her smartest riding habit, give an exhibition of her

horsemanship—teas, dances in the afternoon and in the

moonlight at which, languishing in his arms, their eyes

would speak.

None of the compulsion of the practical. None of the

inhibitions which the dominance and possible future

opposition of her parents might imply. Just love and

summer, and idyllic and happy progress toward an eventual

secure and unopposed union which should give him to her

forever.

And in the meantime, in so far as Roberta was concerned,

two more long, dreary, terrifying months going by without

that meditated action on her part which must result once it

was taken in Clyde’s undoing. For, as convinced as she

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was that apart from meditating and thinking of some way to

escape his responsibility, Clyde had no real intention of

marrying her, still, like Clyde, she drifted, fearing to act

really. For in several conferences following that in which

she had indicated that she expected him to marry her, he

had reiterated, if vaguely, a veiled threat that in case she

appealed to his uncle he would not be compelled to marry

her, after all, for he could go elsewhere.

The way he put it was that unless left undisturbed in his

present situation he would be in no position to marry her

and furthermore could not possibly do anything to aid her at

the coming time when most of all she would stand in need

of aid—a hint which caused Roberta to reflect on a hitherto

not fully developed vein of hardness in Clyde, although had

she but sufficiently reflected, it had shown itself at the time

that he compelled her to admit him to her room.

In addition and because she was doing nothing and yet he

feared that at any moment she might, he shifted in part at

least from the attitude of complete indifference, which had

availed him up to the time that she had threatened him, to

one of at least simulated interest and good-will and

friendship. For the very precarious condition in which he

found himself was sufficiently terrifying to evoke more

diplomacy than ever before had characterized him. Besides

he was foolish enough to hope, if not exactly believe, that

by once more conducting himself as though he still

entertained a lively sense of the problem that afflicted her

and that he was willing, in case no other way was found, to

eventually marry her (though he could never definitely be

persuaded to commit himself as to this), he could reduce

her determination to compel him to act soon at least to a

minimum, and so leave him more time in which to exhaust

every possibility of escape without marriage, and without

being compelled to run away.

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And although Roberta sensed the basis of this sudden shift,

still she was so utterly alone and distrait that she was willing

to give ear to Clyde’s mock genial, if not exactly affectionate

observations and suggestions. It caused her, at his behest,

to wait a while longer, the while, as he now explained, he

would not only have saved up some money, but devised

some plan in connection with his work which would permit

him to leave for a time anyhow, marry her somewhere and

then establish her and the baby as a lawful married woman

somewhere else, while, although he did not explain this just

now, he returned to Lycurgus and sent her such aid as he