Out in the World CHAPTER 10.
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The whole aspect of Mrs. Windall was changed. At a first glance, even one quite familiar with her appearance might have failed in a clear recognition. Usually, there was about her an air of repose. Life did not flush the external of her being — but held itself, like a hidden spring, in fullness at the center. Now it was leaping along her veins in unusual currents, while every nerve was in a thrill. As she stood erect above the unconscious Mrs. Jansen, every part of her body was in motion, with that billowy grace seen in wild animals of the feline species; while her face glowed with an evil radiance. She stood over Madeline for a little while, and then crossing to the window, looked out for a moment; then turned and went back to the bed again — still with that rippling, springy grace of motion to which we have referred. Her eyes glanced towards her victim as she turned, with that glittering eagerness seen in the cat's eyes, half cruel, when she sports with her prey.
As if to reassure herself that Mrs. Jansen was completely spell-bound, she called her in a low voice; but the ears were dead to external sounds. Then she laid her hand on her temples — then lifted her passive arms, that retained, like pieces of wax, any position she gave them. A fuller satisfaction flushed her pale face — a keener delight burned in her calm, dark eyes — through every limb and muscle ran a stronger billowy motion. She was as graceful in attitude as a wild beast on the alert for prey.
This flushing of all the externals of Mrs. Windall's life, consequent on gaining power over a weaker soul, whom she meant to render obedient to sinister purposes, continued for nearly an hour. During this long period, she was in almost constant motion, exhibiting the restlessness of a caged animal. Every now and then, she would stand over Madeline, and look upon her with an expression of intense satisfaction. There was no pity, no sympathy, no compassion in her cold face. She did not think of what suffering might lay in the path she was marking out in thought for this young creature's feet — but only of gain to herself.
After an hour, her exhilarated state passed, and Mrs. Windall became reflective. She sat down a little way from the bed, assuming in a short time the attitude of one who had pondered deeply. Sometimes her head moved in assent to a hidden thought, or slowly signed a negative, as some result was reached that did not find approval. And still the death-like sleeper lay with soul and sense imprisoned.
Almost another hour elapsed without change. At the end of that period Mrs. Windall stood over Madeline, not in the fearful aspect she had borne since the beginning of thisinfernal rite — but with her usual countenance, softened by looks of kindness. There were a few quiet passes and touches, and calls made in tones of tender interest; when the long still lashes quivered, the lips moved, the whole body showed a thrill of returning life.
"Dear Mrs. Jansen!" a mother's voice could hardly have so abounded in love as the voice of Mrs. Windall. "How sweetly you have slept."
Mrs. Jansen startled and looked around her in a scared way.
"Have you been dreaming, dear?" asked Mrs. Windall.
"Dreaming! dreaming!" mannered Mrs. Jansen, as one still but half awake. She looked strangely about the room, then timidly at Mrs. Windall.
"What a sweet sleep you have had! I've been watching you for more than an hour. I never saw anything so peaceful. It was like an infant's slumber." Mrs. Windall's arm was already around Madeline, who first shrank away, and then permitted herself to be drawn close to her side.
There came a rap at the door, which a moment afterwards was pushed open, and Kitty's sharp face peered in.
"Did you call, ma'am?" asked the servant, and as she spoke, she advanced her body into the room, and fixed her intelligent eyes on Mrs. Jansen.
"No, Kitty," answered Mrs. Windall, in a slightly annoyed manner — "I didn't call, and don't want anything."
"Will the lady stay for dinner, and shall I have a place for her?" Kitty held her ground, in spite of Mrs. Windall's intimation that she could retire.
"Oh, no — no," answered Mrs. Jansen, "I shall not stay for dinner. Is it so late?"
"It's going near on till two o'clock, ma'am," said Kitty.
"Impossible!" And Mrs. Jansen drew out her watch.
"How strange!" she ejaculated — "Nearly two, as I live, and I thought it was scarcely twelve."
Kitty's eyes, full of curious interest, were reading every line and expression of Mrs. Jansen's beautiful young face.
"Yes ma'am," said the girl, "it's nearly two, and we have dinner at the hour. Shall I bring you up something?"
"No, thank you. Have I slept long?" And Madeline turned to Mrs. Windall.
"You can go down, Kitty," said the last-named person. "I did not call you. If my friend takes dinner with me, I will see to it. There — there — !" she added, in an imperative manner, as the girl still lingered. Kitty, with a look on her face that did not escape Mrs. Jansen, went out slowly.
"The most provoking girl I ever saw!" exclaimed Mrs. Windall, angrily, as Kitty shut the door. "She's always prowling about, and thrusting herself upon you in and out of season. But if you really want anything, she is very sure to have other engagements. Were you asleep long? Yes, dear. You slept for nearly two hours, and lay so quietly and peacefully that I could not find it in my heart to break the spell of slumber. Are you accustomed go down to dinner?"
"Oh, no — no, Mrs. Windall; I couldn't eat a mouthful."
"I'll have your dinner sent up."
"No, no; I would choke if I attempted to eat."
"But you can't go without food, dear. I'll find something delicate at the table, and bring it to you myself."
Mrs. Jansen only turned her head partly away, with that air of aversion which we sometimes see in the sick when pressed to take food. She had been sitting, since aroused from her unnatural sleep, on the bed. Now, rising, she walked in an unsteady way across the room, and stood at the window, from which she had already obtained so dreary a prospect of roofs and chimneys.
"I think," she said, turning suddenly around, "that I will — " As suddenly as she had begun, did Mrs. Jansen check herself.
"Will what?" asked Mrs. Windall.
"Oh, nothing; it was a mere thought," replied Madeline.
Mrs. Windall's forehead contracted. She looked sharply at Mrs. Jansen.
"Don't be afraid to speak out to me," she said. "I am your friend in everything. If you have doubts, questions, or rising purposes, don't hesitate about letting me see them. My heart is in your case, and I will counsel or lead you as carefully as if you were my own child."
But Mrs. Jansen did not reveal her thought. Nay, hid it in her mind with care, lest it should be discovered. In vain did Mrs. Windall persist in trying to get at the meaning of that quick decision of her young friend's mind — for she saw that a decision had been reached — Madeline baffled her in every effort.
The loud clamor of a bell, jarring through the hall and stairways, announced dinner.
"You will not go down?" said Mrs. Windall.
"No."
"I will bring you up something."
Mrs. Jansen shook her head.
"But you must take food. A cup of tea and a piece of toast, if nothing else. Shall I bring these?"
"I'll take some tea," said Mrs. Jansen, with the manner of one who wished to get rid of importunity.
The instant Mrs. Windall left the chamber, Madeline's face lighted with a purpose. She listened intently to the sound of her retreating footsteps, to the opening and shutting of chamber doors, and the confused noise of feet down the stairs and along the passages. In a few moments, all was still again. Now she got up quickly, and after a hurried arrangement of her hair, put on her shawl and bonnet. Her hand was on the door, which she pulled softly ajar. As she did so, her quick ear caught the sound of light ascending feet. Starting back, she threw off the bonnet and shawl, tossing them to the farther side of the bed from which she had taken them, and was sitting with an apparently absorbed air near the window, when Mrs. Windall opened the door and came in.
"They have some nice roasted fowl on the table," she said. "Now do let me send you a piece."
Mrs. Jansen shook her head, replying —
"No, Mrs. Windall; I cannot eat a mouthful. But, if it is not too much trouble, you may have a cup of tea made, and bring it up when you are through with dinner."
"And a piece of toast."
"Yes, yes; if I can eat it, I will."
Mrs. Windall lingered for some moments, like one haunted with suspicions, and only half satisfied. With quick but cautious glances, she surveyed the room, to see if there had been any change since she went downstairs. None met her eyes.
"I will bring the tea and toast in a little while," she said, as she moved back.
"Oh thank you. Perhaps I will feel better afterwards."
Mrs. Windall went out, shutting the door. The instant Mrs. Jansen was alone, a quiver ran through her frame, and her stooping body lifted itself to a firm erectness. She turned an ear, listening intently. Not the slightest sound was heard. Was Mrs. Windall just outside of the door — or had she gone down with noiseless steps? A minute, that seemed like five minutes, passed before Mrs. Jansen stirred from where she sat. Then she went to the door, and opening it softly, peered out. There was no one in the passage. She stepped from the room, and moved to the head of the stairway. All was deserted and still. Assured of this, she went back quickly, and catching up her bonnet and shawl, drew them on, with scarcely a moment's pause for right adjustment. The finest ear would scarcely have detected her footfalls as she glided down the stairs. Unobserved, she had nearly reached the lower passage, when she heard someone coming up quickly from the basement, where the dining-room was located. Pausing, she held her breath, in a strange kind of fear. She felt like a criminal in the act of escape, and about suffering detection. All her mind was in confusion. A moment of suspense, and Kitty, the Irish girl appeared. Mrs. Jansen put her finger to her lip. The servant understood her, and nodded a quick assurance.
"Don't tell Mrs. Windall that I am going," whispered Mrs. Jansen.
"Indeed ma'am, I won't!" Kitty answered back in a whisper. "She's a horrid thing, anyhow," looking the disgust she felt, "and we all wish her a thousand miles from here. But away with you, and don't be lingering. It's just my guess that she put you to sleep today. I've heard that she can do such things. Ough! I'd as soon let a snake touch me!"
"Kitty!" It was the voice of Mrs. Windall, calling up from the basement. At the same time, she was heard ascending.
"Go!" said the girl to Mrs. Jansen — "go right away; I'll keep her down there until you get out of the front door."
"Who were you talking to?" Madeline heard Mrs. Windall ask, as Kitty met her half way down the basement stairway. She needed no further incitement — but was in the street before Kitty, who had blocked up the stairs in front of Mrs. Windall, had given her evasive answer.
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