Out in the World CHAPTER 16.
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Mrs. Jansen did not leave her bed for several days, nor her room for over a week. Every day, the physician who had been called in by Mrs. Cairne, came to see her. He was a man of about forty, with a frank, cheerful address, and an air of familiarity from which Mrs. Jansen, as fever subsided, and her mind grew clear, shrunk with instinctive delicacy. Something in the touch of his hand, moist and velvety, as he laid it upon hers, sent a faint shiver along her nerves; and the instant his fingers left her pulse, she would draw her hand away. His eyes, dark and with a mystery in them that she could not read, hurt her as she felt them going down into her very consciousness. She could not bear his look, and turned from him, always, with an uneasy feeling, as if there were harm in his very glances.
The doctor did not leave off his daily calls, even after Mrs. Jansen could sit up in her room. Mrs. Cairne usually came in with him — but almost always made some excuse to leave them alone. He was an intelligent, cheerful talker, full of anecdote, and, as we have intimated, very frank and familiar. But, the repulsion felt by Mrs. Jansen in the beginning, did not wear off; and she invariably declined to let him take her hand, at the close of his visits, though he never omitted the attempt.
"It is unnecessary to call again, doctor," she said to him one day, a week after the beginning of her illness. "I am quite well again."
"Not so well as you think," he answered, smiling in his frank way. "There is some fever in your system yet." And before she could draw back her hand, he had taken it, and was searching for the artery that lay along the fair wrist. "Too quick and hard yet," he said. "You are not entirely safe, madam. The merest trifle may throw you off from this returning healthy balance; and you know that relapses are always bad. Don't be too weary of the sick room. An impatient convalescence is never a sure one."
He had risen to retire; but sat down again, and taking out his pencil, wrote a prescription. Mrs. Jansen remained standing.
"Send for that," he said, handing his patient the slip of paper on which he had been writing. He remained seated — but with his eyes fixed intently on Mrs. Jansen's face. Never had she been so affected, as at this moment, by gaze from human eyes. They seemed to hold her spell-bound. She felt in thrall. Intense, clear, pulsating in light, full of eager intelligence, like something alive — they seemed to draw, hold, consume. A vague, weak terror seized her. She wished to fly — but had no conscious power of motion. A few moments elapsed, the doctor not once removing his gaze. Then rising slowly, his eyes not wavering, he reached forth a hand to take one of hers. The touch of that hand was like an electric spark, firing the passive will. Madeline startled, and sprang back, her face deadly pale.
"Go, sir!" she said, sternly and imperatively.
He did not move. The eager, hungry light went out of his eyes; and a pleasant smile broke softly over his countenance.
"Don't be excited, my dear madam," he said, in a calm, persuasive voice. "This fever still lingers in your system, and presses on your brain. I only wished to examine your pulsebefore retiring. The giving of offence was the last thing in my thought. Good day! I will call in the morning and ask if the medicine has done its right work. You need not see me, unless you desire it. Good day."
And bowing in complete self-possession, and with undiminished blandness of manner, the doctor retired.
Weak and trembling, Mrs. Jansen sunk into a chair. All the little strength she had gained in her brief convalescence, seemed to have departed. "Fever still lingers in your system, and presses on your brain." The doctor had said this so earnestly, and looked, as he spoke, so kind and calm, that she was already beginning to feel a doubt as to her own clear perception of things. Might she not have altogether mistaken him?
Mrs. Cairne did not come to her room for nearly half an hour after the doctor retired. Mrs. Jansen was lying down — but arose as she entered, fixing her eyes so searchingly on the face of Mrs. Cairne, that she partly turned it aside, as if she feared more might be revealed there than she wished her guest to know.
"The doctor says that fever still lurks in your system, and that you must not think of leaving your room."
Mrs. Jansen did not reply — only looked more keenly at Mrs. Cairne.
"I have known Doctor Barton for several years, and have great confidence in him. His practice lies among the best families in New York; and he is much esteemed everywhere, not only as a skillful physician — but as a true and honorable man. It would be imprudent to disregard his injunction in anything."
"If he should call tomorrow," Mrs. Jansen replied, in a serious tone, "say that I am better, and do not wish to see him."
The expression of Mrs. Cairne's face changed, instantly. She looked both surprised and concerned.
"Why do you say that?" she asked. "I hope you have not misunderstood the doctor in anything. He's very plain and outspoken, sometimes. In what has he offended you?"
"I did not say that he had offended me in anything — only, that I did not wish to see him. I am better, and do not need his further attentions."
"You have fever." Mrs. Cairne took one of Mrs. Jansen's hands, meaning to offer its unnatural warmth in proof of her declaration. But she found it cold and moist.
"Your hand is hot in mine," returned Madeline.
The two women looked at each other with doubt and questioning in their eyes, and then mutually turned their eyes away, as if each had something in her thought that she wished to conceal.
"I will do as you desire, of course," said Mrs. Cairne — but not with her usual free and kindly way. "I am so warm a friend of Doctor Barton" she added, as if in apology for her manner, "and know so well his excellence of mind and heart — his skill, his honor, his high professional worth — that it hurts me to know that one so near to me as you are; one whom I so truly love, should feel towards him the slightest repugnance, or misapprehend him in the smallest degree."
"We are not all alike," was the answer of Madeline. There was more in her thought that she intended to say — but she paused with this sentence. Mrs. Cairne waited for her to go on — but she kept silent.
"I'm pained," said Mrs. Cairne, "that anything in the slightest degree unpleasant should have occurred in my house with friends whom I so highly regard. Please be frank with me, dear Mrs. Jansen! Tell me exactly what appeared in the doctor's manner?"
Something whispered Mrs. Jansen to be on her guard.
"I have nothing to tell," she replied. "We cannot always trace our impressions to their causes. It is enough, that I do not consider myself in further need of visits from a physician. We all have our peculiarities, you know. Set this down as one of mine; but do not, I ask, let it stand as anything between us."
"No — no, not for an instant!" warmly and frankly returned Mrs. Cairne, and she kissed her friend. To Mrs. Jansen, the kiss had a strange feeling, as if it were a kiss of betrayal.
On the next day, Doctor Barton called at the usual hour. Mrs. Jansen heard the bell, and going to her room door, opened it and listened. She knew the doctor's step as he entered the hall. Mrs. Cairne was in the parlor, and came out to meet him. For some time they talked in low voice. Madeline stood in the upper passage, and leaned over the banister, hearkening intently; but she could not make out a word. From the hall they presently retired into the parlors, and with a sense of relief, Madeline returned to her room and shut the door. She did not feel at ease in her mind. An impression of insecurity lay heavily upon her heart. Many doubts had oppressed her in the last twenty-four hours, many questions perplexed her that were still as far from being solved as ever.
From this state, as she sat musing, she was aroused by hearing the sound of a man's feet on the stairs. The doctor, in spite of her request that his visits should cease, was coming to her chamber! A feeling of indignation flashed through her soul. Her first thought was to confront him at the door, and sternly order him to retire; but a sense of loneliness and weakness quickly brought another resolution. She turned the key in the lock, and then, feeling secure, retired across the chamber, and sat down. A light tap announced the doctor's presence.
"Who is it?" Madeline asked.
"The doctor," was replied.
"I do not wish to see you!" There was an angry impulse in the tones of Mrs. Jansen, as she made this abrupt response.
A moment after, and a hand was laid upon the door knob; but the door was bolted. All was still for the space of a minute. Madeline sat with half suspended breath, listening anxiously. At length her ears detected a movement, and she imagined that whispers were in the air. The sound of retiring feet came distinctly — a muffled and diminishing sound, that soon fell away into silence. More than an hour elapsed before Mrs. Cairne came to her room.
"You are a foolish thing," she said, half chidingly — yet with her usual frank and pleasant manner — " I'm sorry you didn't see the doctor. But, no matter. He thought strangely of you — how could it be otherwise?"
"I thought strangely of him" was Madeline's answer, speaking with slight signs of anger. "He may be gentle, manly, and all that; but when a patient says she does not wish to be seen, both gentlemanly feeling and professional sensitiveness would prompt a physician to regard her will."
"Oh, well, let it pass, dear," said Mrs. Cairne. "The doctor was over-anxious about you, and in trying to see you, even against your wishes, only obeyed a sense of duty. But while he thought strangely of you, I said, he was not offended. He is used to these idiosyncrasies of patients, and can make allowance for them."
In the eyes of Madeline, there had come over Mrs. Cairne a strange transformation. She had noticed something of this from the moment she entered her house — it had progressed day by day, and now as she looked upon her, she did not appear like the same woman she had known. Beneath the courteous manner, the open, free-hearted smile and voice — was revealed another personality — selfish, sinister, false and cruel. Mrs. Jansen felt a chill of repulsion steal along her nerves as she looked at her. To the last remark of Mrs. Cairne, no reply was made.
"I am going out for an hour or two this morning," she said, after remaining with Mrs. Jansen for a short time — "is there anything that you would like me to get for you?"
"Nothing, thank you," was replied, "and don't hurry yourself about returning; I shall find company in a book."
But no book had interest enough for Mrs. Jansen on that morning. Soon after Mrs. Cairne went out, she changed her dress, and descended to the parlor, for the first time in many days. She felt weak but not sick. Fever had relinquished its hold upon her system. She had been in the parlor scarcely half an hour, when a visitor came in. So absorbed were her thoughts that she had not heard the bell. Rising quickly as a lady entered the parlor, she found herself face to face with Mrs. Windall!
"My dear, dear child!" ejaculated the latter, coming quickly forwards, and grasping her reluctant hand — "what on earth are you doing here?" She spoke in an excited manner — yet in an undertone, very low and mysterious. Her whole manner expressed concern, as well as surprise.
"Why not here?" inquired Madeline, relaxing just a little from her coldness.
"That you should ask such a question, standing as you are in the very gates of death and the jaws of Hell!" said Mrs. Windall, with painful solemnity of manner.
Madeline's face grew white.
"Explain yourself. What does this language mean?" demanded Mrs. Jansen.
Mrs. Windall bent to her ear, and whispered a few words. Mrs. Jansen startled as if a serpent had stung her, ejaculating —
"No! — no! that is impossible!"
"It is as true as the sun shines, and every moment you linger here — is a moment of shame and peril. Should the fact of your having been in this house reach your husband's ears, the barrier between you will become eternal. He will look upon you as one of the vilest!"
"And what are you doing here?" asked Mrs. Jansen, her pale, trembling lips growing firm.
"Ten minutes ago I met Mrs. Cairne, and learned to my astonishment that you were in her house. That is why I am here. Could I hesitate an instant, when I knew that you were onenchanted ground, full of snares and pitfalls? I am here to warn you of danger, and to aid you in escape. Ah, my dear young friend! the way in which you have elected to walk is a difficult and a dangerous one. Not Christian, on his journey to the Promised Land, was more beset or in more peril than you will be!"
"I shall leave instantly," said Mrs. Jansen. She was pale and distressed, and shivered with a nervous chill.
"Have you been sick?" asked Mrs. Windall, observing her more closely.
"Yes; this is the first time I've been out of my room for several days; I've been quite ill with fever."
"Shall I get a carriage?" asked Mrs. Windall.
"Oh, no, no!" replied Mrs. Jansen, "I wouldn't be seen going from here in a carriage for the world. How near do the coaches run?"
"Very near."
"I will put on my things and leave immediately. You'll wait until I come down?"
"Yes; but don't be long; Mrs. Cairne may return at any moment, or you may be confronted with some caller, who will rumor the fact of your being here, and blast your good name."
A little while afterwards, and the two women went out together. Madeline's steps were feeble. She clung to the arm of Mrs. Windall, moving slowly away, her veil drawn tightly over her face. There were many people in the street as they emerged from the house of Mrs. Cairne, and, from some cause, they attracted attention, two or three individuals stopping and turning to look after them, as they passed along the street.
"Who was that man?" asked Mrs. Windall. They were only the distance of three or four houses away from Mrs. Cairne's. A man, a few steps in advance of them, had paused suddenly, as if to speak, or in surprise. It was plain to Mrs. Windall from the startle and shrinking against her of Mrs. Jansen, that she knew him. But Madeline did not meet the sign of recognition — only drew her veil closer, looking down, and passing on.
"Did you know him?" Mrs. Windall repeated her question — but in another form.
"Yes."
"Who was it?"
But the question received no answer.
"He recognized you."
The only response to this was a nervous pressure against the arm on which she was leaning.
Yes, he had recognized her, and she knew it — he, of all men living, the last she would have met of her own will just in that place! Had he seen her leaving the house of Mrs. Cairne? Did he know the reputation it bore? These questions seemed as if they would kill her. Suddenly, there seemed to rise between her and her husband, a barrier high as Heaven. She was shut away from him forever. It was no longer by her own will that she stood apart. A wall of separation, impossible to scale, had been erected in an instant, and she was now a hopeless wanderer on the other side!
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