Out in the World CHAPTER 6.
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They had been married for nearly two years. In all that time, the process of separation went on. This was not apparent to common observers — a few only saw the growing incompatibility. The fascination thrown around Mrs. Jansen by Mrs. Woodbine continued. This woman held her almost completely under her influence. Jansen understood Mrs. Woodbine's character, and did all in his power to draw his wife away from her sphere; but in this he failed altogether, only increasing Madeline's misapprehension of motives, by the pertinacity of his opposition.
One day some scandalous reports reached his ears, in which the name of a lady was used whom he knew to be an intimate friend of Mrs. Woodbine, and a constant visitor at her house. Mr. Guyton's name was also mentioned. There was, or at least Jansen imagined as much, something in the relater's thought behind his speech, not felt proper to communicate, and his quick inference was that his wife's name had been in some way connected with the scandal.
"There must be an end of all this!" So he said resolutely, speaking with himself. I have opposed, remonstrated, argued — but to no effect. Madeline has set my wishes and my will at naught. But, this woman must be given up! I can no longer permit an association that is hurting my wife's reputation, if not corrupting her heart! If she is without suspicion and without prudence — if she will not look at danger though it stands in her path — my duty as a husband compels me to interfere. If love and persuasion avail not — thenauthority and force must come as a last resort."
Jansen felt himself to be the superior and the stronger; and scarcely doubted, that, under a stern assertion of prerogative, would come submission. Within an hour after hearing the scandalous report, he met his wife on the street.
"Where are you going?" he asked, in a tone that was so full of the right to ask, that Madeline's spirit rebelled.
"Shopping," she coldly answered.
Jansen turned and walked in the direction she was going.
"I wish to say a word or two." His manner put his wife on her guard.
"You are not going to Mrs. Woodbine's," he said.
"Yes, I shall, in all probability, go there while I am out.
"No, Madeline — not there any more. Scandals, concerning people who visit at Mrs. Woodbine's are abroad, and I cannot have your name connected with them. But, we will talk all this over when I come home. In the meantime, do what I say."
Madeline was silent.
"You understand what I mean," said her husband. There was, in his voice, an assumption of authority that roused the pride of his wife.
"Good day!" she said, abruptly, turning from him and crossing the street.
Jansen was confounded; then indignant; then angry. He read this action on the part of his wife, as a defiance of his assumed prerogative. If there had remained with him any tenderness of feeling towards Madeline, it retired beyond all range of perception, or died out.
In the evening, after tea, he asked, in cold — but repressed voice —
"Were you at Mrs. Woodbine's today?"
They had met in mutual reserve, and remained, until this time, almost silent.
"Yes." A simple, quiet, almost indifferent "Yes."
"After what I said?" There was little change in Carl Jansen's tone of voice.
"Yes," in the same indifferent voice.
"I said there were reports abroad concerning the good name of a lady who visited there."
"Well? What of that?" She looked him strongly in the face. Her voice was firmer.
"I have your good name in keeping — "
Madeline's eyes flashed instantly.
"So, it is my good name that is compromised! Well, sir!" — Her suddenly rising excitement carried her away, and she became almost tragic in her manner. — "And did you assert your manly right to defend your wife's honor, and punish the false defamer?"
"If my wife," replied Jansen, not undeceiving Madeline, "in the face of warning and remonstrance, persists in associating with people of questionable reputation, I shall not be unrealistic enough to quarrel with everyone who may happen to class her with the company she keeps."
"You make a false assertion, sir!" Madeline was growing more excited.
"Take care, madam!" Jansen spoke in warning.
"I say, that your assertion, that I keep company with people of questionable reputation, is false!" She spoke in a calmer voice — but with deeper anger, and more defiance.
"You must not use such language to me," answered the husband. His usually colorless face was now almost white. But he showed no agitation of manner.
"Guard your own tongue, then," answered Madeline, sharply.
"Surely, if I see a wolf on your path, I may speak without offence! What folly is this to which you are giving yourself over? I am amazed!"
"It is easy enough to cry wolf," retorted Madeline. "But, I do not choose to have my friends so designated. So, I ask that you give better heed to your speech. It does not suit my temper. And further, Carl, let me say to you once and forever, that any assumption of authority on your part will not be favorably regarded on mine. You cannot influence me in the slightest thing by word of command — unless it be to act squarely in opposition. So take heed! I will walk in the world by your side, as your wife and your equal; but not a step behind, in submissive acknowledgment of inferiority. I am no slave, sir!"
Madeline drew herself up proudly.
Now, to Carl Jansen, taking his views of the marriage relation, which placed man at the head, as the wiser and stronger; and woman below him, as the weaker vessel — there wasoutspoken rebellion in this. They had been sitting face to face, the one looking steadily in strong self-assertion at the other. Half confounded, Jansen arose and crossing the room, stood with his back to his wife thinking rapidly — yet with thought obscured, and so groping in partial blindness.
Naturally calm and proud — with no great depth of feeling — of a persistent nature, and sternly resolute in walking the ways he thought in the line of right and duty — Jansen was standing now on the "point of no return" of his own and his wife's destiny. Was it possible for him to yield in this open contest? Should he move back — or continue on? Behind him, he saw humiliation — the abandonment of right and prerogative — submission to an inferior power, involving disgrace and loss of self-respect. Beyond this "point of no return" was a dark void, into the bosom of which sight could not penetrate; yet he knew it to be full of evil things — an abyss of suffering to himself, and of sorrow and shame for his wife.
For a moment, as he stood thus pondering, a good angel uncovered the past, and flooded his soul with the tenderness of early love. He saw Madeline as she had once looked in his eyes, the embodiment of all sweet conceptions — pure, loving, joyful as a summer day. His heart swelled with old emotions. He was beginning to move back from the "point of no return". But a darker spirit was near and shut the page from view. He was cold, stern, resolute again.
"I cannot sink my manhood! If she drags down ruin upon her head, the blame and the consequences are her own." So he spoke firmly with himself. Turning, at length, he came back, and sat down in front of his wife. She had not moved. He looked at her, and she returned his gaze, with wide open eyes. There was no change in her manner; no sign ofweakness. This pricked his feelings like the keen entrance of a dagger point. He felt irritated.
"We cannot live in open conflict, Madeline," he said.
She did not reply.
"For one I could not endure such a life. It would be a Hell on earth."
Still she made no answer.
"Madeline!" The tone was too imperative; too full of the man's self-assertion. There had just come stealing into Madeline's heart a softer feeling — her true woman's nature was stirring. But the lifting wave swept back under this wind of authority.
"Madeline! unless we are both true to our marriage compact — unless the just, heaven-ordained relation of man and wife be faithfully regarded — there is no hope of peace, far less of happiness for you or for me. Consider! Pause, I implore you! Do not advance a step farther in the way you are going. Do not utterly defy me. I cannot bear such adefiance; nor be answerable for the consequences."
The head of Mrs. Jansen assumed a prouder attitude.
"Defiance? I do not understand you?" she returned, in a clear, steady voice. "Does the stream defy the obstructing stone that casts itself blindly into the free current! — or the stone defy the stream?"
She paused for him to answer. But her question only annoyed him. He saw its application — but held the allusion to be irrelevant. There was, on his part, only a gesture of impatience. He grew blinder and harder.
"Equal, Carl, equal!" said Madeline, seeing that he did not answer. "There can be no other peaceful relation between us. From the beginning, you have treated me as though I were an inferior; and my whole nature has been in revolt. For a time, I bore with an assumption of authority over me not warranted by our relation to each other — an authority that was irritating and offensive. But, I shall bear it no longer. You must step down from your attitude of command, and if you wish to influence me — come with reason and suggestion. No other way will suit me. As to the word defiance, as applied to my conduct, I ask you, never again let it pass your lips. You may influence me by gentleness, by kind consideration, by love, Carl — such as you promised me; but never by command. I do not comprehend the word obedience, as concerning my free thought and act, except as referring to God!"
"I think," answered Jansen, in a cold, cutting voice, "that the words of the marriage ceremonial, to which you deliberately responded, were, 'Will you obey him, and serve him; love, honor, etc.' The form was not mine. The church made it, and all good men and women subscribe to it as expressing the true relation of man and wife. There was no compulsion. You went of your own free will to the altar, and so registered your marriage vows. If you choose to cast them to the winds — then the evil and the responsibility must rest on your own head. But I beg you in heaven's name, to pause! You have lived with me, now, for two years, and in that time gained some knowledge of my character. I am not impulsive, nor given to quick changes; but I am, by nature, inflexible. I endeavor always to walk as close to the right as possible; and when I am assured as to the right, I move onward, never stopping to question about consequences."
"I have only one thing to answer," said Madeline, her voice dropping to as cold a tone as that which her husband had used. "Take my advice, and stop where you are to question of consequences; or, when too late to question, you may regret your inflexibility. Remember, that 'love has readier will than fear.' Remember, also, that there are natures so organized, that they cannot yield to force. Mine is of that order."
She ceased, and waited for him to reply. But he remained silent. For all his consciousness of right, and for all his natural inflexibility — there was something in the tone and speech of his wife, that gave him a warning to pause. He clearly understood her to be in earnest; and saw the abyss that lay before them grow darker and more appalling. So, in doubt as to what he should say, Jansen remained silent. During this silence, Madeline retired from the room, and the subject was closed for that time.
Sleep did not give a clearer mind to either Carl Jansen or his wife. As to Madeline, her fellowship with Mrs. Woodbine and other people of her school, whom she met in the frequent visits made to that lady's house, had seriously warped her views concerning her relation to her husband. The idea of submission in anything, was scouted among these wise women as a degradation of the gender. Of the essential difference between what was masculine and feminine, and therefore of the true relation of husband to wife — they were in complete ignorance.
Their ideas of equality gave to woman a range of mental powers exactly similar to a man's, and also a position, if she would but assert her right — side by side with man in every worldly use or station. The mental difference, so apparent to even a child, as exhibited in the ends and actions of the two sexes, was not referred by these philosophers to any essential difference of spiritual organization, which limited the uses of each within certain spheres of life — but to false customs and habits, and to arbitrary social laws. And they had resolved among themselves to assume a larger liberty than woman usually enjoyed, and especially to maintain an individual independence so far as each was concerned.
Grafting these views upon her natural love of freedom, Madeline's will sent out strange branches, which soon blossomed and bore fruits of bitterness; and now she was lifting her hand to pluck and eat them. If her husband had been a wise man — one of a broader and weaker nature — he might easily have withdrawn Madeline from the influence of these bad associations; but he was narrow, cold, brooding and sensitive about his rights and prerogatives, and, what was more fatal to happiness in the sensitive relation held towards his wife — he had morbid views of duty, and a false conscience. He could be hard, inflexible, cruel, even — and yet stand self-justified. Of his own acts, he always judged approvingly — always to be right. There was with him also the pride of consistency, and the conceit of a superior manliness, in not being subject to change.
"I am not one to be driven about like a weathercock, by every changing blast of opinion," he would often say of himself proudly.
Such they were, and now in antagonism, resolutely face to face, in the crisis of their destiny. The chances for yielding on either side were small; yet, one or the other must give way — or the most disastrous consequences would follow.
On the next morning, after a silent breakfast, Jansen said as he arose from the table —
"I must say one word, Madeline, before I go out."
There was an effort to speak softly — even in a tone of appeal; but far more apparent in voice and manner was the assertion of a right to expect his wife's compliance with what he was about saying. Madeline lifted her head quietly and gravely. Jansen saw, when he looked into her clear brown eyes, an unshaken spirit. For a moment he was in doubt — for a moment he hesitated; then he passed with a blind desperation over the "point of no return" on which he had been standing.
"Don't be seen at Mrs. Woodbine's again!" The softness had died out of his voice — the tone of appeal was gone. He spoke as one in authority.
The color went from Madeline's face instantly; her eyes grew hard and fearful; slight twitching convulsions played strangely for a moment about her mouth; then, as still as stone she sat, not now looking at her husband — but in a fixed stare past him, as if contemplating the dark future of her life.
Jansen was not moved to any change by this appearance, it rather made resolution sterner; he had stretched forth his hand to the plow — and would not look back.
"Remember that I am in earnest!" he said, in a warning voice, and went out, leaving the stony statue of his wife sitting at the breakfast table.
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