Out in the World CHAPTER 15.
Back to Out in the World
Let us follow the proud, sensitive young creature who dropped so suddenly beneath the surface of society, and see how it has fared with her. On leaving the house of Mrs. Lawrence, Madeline crossed the river, and went to Mrs. Woodbine's. Her reception was not with the old cordiality. The false friend who had first led her mind astray, could notforgive the independent action that went adverse to her judgment. While claiming for herself the largest liberty she chose to assume, she was always impatient of freedom in others when it touched her will, be it ever so lightly.
"Have you a letter for me?" asked Madeline. She was not able to conceal the suspense that was in her mind.
"No." How like a verdict of "guilty," to a waiting prisoner, fell the word upon her ears! The brave heart drooped. The courage failed.
"You expected a letter?" said Mrs. Woodbine, who noticed the disappointment her answer had produced.
"I thought there might be one," returned Mrs. Jansen, rallying herself.
"You did not take my advice," remarked Mrs. Woodbine, with a distant air.
"No. I could not."
"You are wrong my young friend — wrong!" Mrs. Woodbine spoke with emphasis. "And you will see it one of these days. I never dreamed of your carrying things, on so triflinga provocation, to this extremity. Please, be advised by one who has seen a great deal more of the world than you have. Return to your husband — "
"Never!" exclaimed Madeline, interrupting Mrs. Woodbine. "Never, unless he says 'Come back.'"
"Which he may never say!"
The color receded from Madeline's face; but her eyes grew hard, and her lips rigid.
"So be it," she answered, huskily. "I have counted the cost."
Mrs. Woodbine drew herself up coldly — but made no reply. Madeline sat for a short time, and then arose, with an embarrassed air.
"You're not going," said Mrs. Woodbine, in such an unsympathizing voice that it was as if she had said, "go, and go quickly!"
"Yes."
They stood facing each other for a few moments.
"Good day." Madeline did not extend a hand.
"Why are you in such a hurry? Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Woodbine. The interest was only a pretense, and Madeline was not deceived.
"Good day." She repeated the words.
"Good day. When shall I see you again?"
"I will call tomorrow, or the next day, to see if there is anything for me."
"Do, I shall be glad to see you. Oh, by the way, Mrs. Windall was here last evening."
Madeline could not help a startle. Mrs. Woodbine's eyes were upon her, reading the expression of her countenance.
"Was she?" Mrs. Jansen tried to seem indifferent.
"Yes, and she was very anxious about you. It seems from what she intimated, that you gave her the slip. I was glad to hear it! Take my advice, and keep out of her way. She is adangerous woman, and may lead you into harm!"
"Dangerous in what respect?" asked Madeline.
"Oh, as to that, I can't speak definitely. I've never thought her a person of well-based principles."
"Do you know any wrong of Mrs. Windall?"
"Well, no, I can't say that I do; but people are in the habit of speaking lightly of her. Situated as you are, Mrs. Jansen, carefulness in regard to those with whom you associate is a thing of the first importance. We are judged by the company we keep. Your life may be as pure as that of an angel; yet the breath of slander will be on your name. You cannot escape, in the way you are now walking, no matter with what circumspection you move. The most innocent act, may be twisted into crime."
"How long have you known Mrs. Windall?" asked Madeline.
"Not over six months."
"Who, or what, is she?"
"That question, I find it difficult to answer. The fact is, I know little, if anything about her; except that she has no sensibility, and intrudes herself whenever she can find opportunity, whether she is welcome or not. Her presence has always been disagreeable to me. If you asked me why, I might not be able to give a satisfactory reason; but such is the case. I repeat the advice, keep away from her; and if she seeks you out, and tries to fasten herself upon you, push her off."
"You cannot dislike her more than I do!"
The door bell rung, and a servant passed down the hall.
"If that should be her!" said Mrs. Jansen, with a look of real apprehension.
"Most likely it is," returned Mrs. Woodbine. "I saw yesterday, that she was determined to find you. She knew that any letter you might receive would be directed to my care, and asked if one had come."
"I cannot meet her! Oh, Mrs. Woodbine, let me hide away somewhere!" Madeline trembled like one in affright.
"Pass into the back parlor, and stand near the door," replied Mrs. Woodbine. "You will know her voice. It is Mrs. Windall, slip out into the hall and go upstairs. I will not let her know that you are here."
Madeline had scarcely left the room before Mrs. Windall entered.
"Good morning!" she said, fixing her large weird eyes on the face of Mrs. Woodbine.
"Good morning," was returned with a smile not over warm — yet sufficiently cordial to put a woman like Mrs. Windall at her ease.
"Have you seen our young friend?" That was the uppermost thing in her mind, and she could not hold it back.
"Yes."
The face of Mrs. Windall brightened.
"When?" she asked.
"She was here this morning."
"Ah! Did she get a letter?"
"No."
"There's hard stuff in her husband," said Mrs. Windall.
"She ought to have known him well enough never to have risked all she has done."
"How long since she was here?"
"Not a great while."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No."
Mrs. Windall, who had taken a seat, arose almost immediately.
"How long since she left?"
"She was here not ten minutes ago."
"Oh! so recent? How unfortunate that I did not arrive sooner! And you have no idea which way she went?"
"She said nothing of her intentions. I did not question her.
"Poor, unhappy young creature!" Mrs. Windall spoke with feeling. "I am deeply interested in her case. What will she do?"
"The best thing you, or any friend can do for her," replied Mrs. Woodbine, "is to persuade her to go back to her husband, and hold her own where she has rights to maintain. Thiscutting adrift is bad — always bad. But, you know my opinion on the subject."
"And you know mine," returned Mrs. Windall, tossing her head in a kind of defiant way. "Good day!" she added, turning off. "I think I know where Mrs. Jansen has gone, and I particularly desire to see her."
Mrs. Woodbine made no effort to detain the little woman. She simply responded to her good day, and they separated. As Mrs. Windall passed into the street, Madeline came downstairs into the hall.
"I will remain for a quarter of an hour if agreeable," she said, in a subdued manner, like one who asks a favor.
"Stay by all means," returned Mrs. Woodbine, with a cordiality that partially atoned for her previous coldness. "I don't want you to meet that woman again. She is after you with the keen scent of a hound; not for your good, I am persuaded — but to serve some end of her own, Madeline. Out from your husband's protection — there is danger for one so young, so inexperienced, so personally attractive as you are! Pardon my earnestness; but I am deeply concerned for the result of all this."
"I thank you for this interest," returned Mrs. Jansen. "I believe it to be sincere. But I cannot go back, as I have before said, and live in strife with my husband. Anything but that! You know my views and feelings. I have spoken to you freely. There can be no change. If my husband says 'Come back,' I will go back. If he keep silence, the separation is eternal!"
"To argue the case farther, is useless," said Mrs. Woodbine.
"Useless!" echoed Madeline.
Mrs. Jansen did not remain longer than the quarter of an hour for which she had asked. Their fellowship during the time was marked by restraint on both sides. Then she went away. But where. Ah, how much does this question involve! Moved only by feeling, and throwing aside all prudent considerations as something below the heroic from which she believed herself acting, Madeline had taken no care to fill her purse — it contained only a few dollars — nor to provide for a change of clothing. She had simply dressed herself for the street, and so gone out, leaving everything behind.
Her disappointment in regard to Mrs. Woodbine had alarmed and bewildered her — though it did not change her purpose. In imagination, she had pictured herself in the refuge of her elegant home, finding a world of sympathy in one heart at least. Counsel for the future — aid as it might be needed — wisdom from Mrs. Woodbine's large experience in the world, had all been taken for granted. Alas! How miserably had these expectations failed! How, almost instantly, in her death-like extremity, had this friend dropped away! Where next was she to turn? The first day's unhappy experience has shown how wildly she had calculated the future.
On leaving the house of Mrs. Woodbine, parting coldly with her at the door, Mrs. Jansen crossed the city towards the East River. There lived on Eighth street, near the Third Avenue, a lady whom she had often met at Mrs. Woodbine's. Her name was Mrs. Cairne. This lady had a kind and gentle way with her that had always pleased Madeline. She was one of the progressive school of women — but not so radical in her sentiments as were many who visited at Mrs. Woodbine's. Mrs. Cairne had, once or twice, called on Mrs. Jansen, and the latter promised to return her visits — but had not yet done so. From some cause, of which she was in ignorance, Mrs. Cairne's reception with several of Mrs. Woodbine's visitors, was not of the most cordial nature. Madeline had noticed this, and wondered as to its meaning. The woman was gentle, cultivated, and of lady-like demeanor; and yet she did not seem to attract her own gender strongly. But, the men who happened at any time to be present when she was at Mrs. Woodbine's, were generally marked in their attentions. It had not escaped the observation of Madeline, that in conversation with men, Mrs. Cairne was always more animated than when in conversation with women. At such times, her face would light up with feeling, and her eyes dance and sparkle in a way that made her really fascinating. Something which then appeared in the expression of her face, was not pleasant to Mrs. Jansen. What its meaning was, she could not say; but it impressed her unfavorably.
Of all her friends — after Mrs. Woodbine and Mrs. Lawrence — on whom she felt inclined to call in this painful episode of her life, Mrs. Cairne came next. A dozen were thought of and passed by. Here there seemed the best chance for sympathy and temporary refuge.
As Mrs. Jansen stood at Mrs. Cairne's door, with her hand on the bell, a sudden shadow fell upon her spirit, accompanied by an inward fear, as if in the presence of evil and hurtful things. A strong impulse pressed her back; she let her grasp unloose itself from the bell-handle; and moving away, descended to the street. Five minutes afterwards she returned, walked firmly up to the door, and pulled the bell.
"My dear Mrs. Jansen! How glad I am to see you!" Cordially, and with an air of sincerity not to be mistaken, this welcome to the already heart-sick and almost fainting wanderer was given.
"I have heard of your trouble," added Mrs. Cairne, as she led Madeline back to the sofa from which she had arisen, and sitting beside her, still held her hand tightly, looking with questioning earnestness into her face.
Madeline could not keep back the tears from her eyes. Here was genuine sympathy, for which her heart was longing. Unable to control herself, she laid her face down upon Mrs. Cairne, and sobbed.
"For one so young! For one whose sky was so warm and bright! Oh, it is hard — very hard!" said Mrs. Cairne, in her tender, loving way.
The whole frame of Madeline quivered with sobs; but, she had a strong will, and self-control, and quickly regained her lost equipoise. To the pressing inquiries of Mrs. Cairne, made with such an affectionate interest, she opened all her heart — confided in her as completely as if she had been a beloved sister, older and wiser than herself. During the time, Mrs. Cairne sat with one arm drawn around Madeline, and a hand tightly holding one of her hands. Madeline's bonnet and shawl, she had already removed.
No coldness, no shrinking back, or reserve on the part of Mrs. Cairne, followed. Instead, she drew closer to Madeline with a kind of motherly tenderness.
"I have a place for you both in my heart and my house," she said. "Come in and occupy as long as you will. I marvel at Mrs. Woodbine! I knew she was a selfish, and a worldly-wise woman in some things — but I saw, also, so many good points in her character that I gave her credit for more than she was worth. Trouble proves our friends. In blossomy spring and summer, and in the fruitful autumn of our lives, they gather around us thickly; but, the evergreens of friendship are few. You are passing amid your first fiery trials. I trust you have a strong will, a brave heart, and power of endurance. You will need them all."
"I have gone out alone," replied Mrs. Jansen, finding strength in the warm sympathy of Mrs. Cairne; "and if need be, I shall walk alone, straightforward to the end. I may be faint and weary — my feet may bleed — I may be in terror of the evil that meets me on the way; but there is one thing certain — I shall not turn back."
Up to this time, since leaving her home, Mrs. Jansen had been in a state of strong internal excitement. Nothing had gone tranquilly. The currents of feeling had been seething amid rocks, or dashing down rapids. Now they smoothed themselves out into a calm lake, and a slumbrous quiet, sweet as peace, fell gently over her spirit. Mrs. Cairne gave her a room, neatly furnished, and supplied with books.
"Stay as long as you will," she said, in her sweet, winning way. "I will be your friend, your companion, and your counselor."
"When left alone in her room, Mrs. Jansen, on taking note of her sensations, perceived a heaviness that weighed down her limbs, as though after great fatigue. Accompanying this, was a fullness about the head, and a dull, deep, aching of the brain — not severe — yet defining itself with steadily increasing throbs. As one weary, she threw herself on the bed, and was soon lost in a heavy sleep. When she awoke, Mrs. Cairne was sitting by her side.
"Are you not well, dear?" was asked, with evident concern of manner.
An attempt to rise was accompanied by strong painful throbs in the forehead, and a sense of bewilderment. Madeline sunk back on the pillow with a low moan.
"You are sick, child!" said Mrs. Cairne, who saw that her face was flushed. Touching her skin, she perceived that it was hot with fever. "Do you often have spells of sudden illness?"
"No." The answer was dull, as if Madeline had only partly understood the question.
"You are sick, Mrs. Jansen." Mrs. Cairne spoke with an earnestness meant to rouse her guest.
Madeline opened her eyes, and looked about her in a disturbed way.
"I'm afraid I am," she answered.
"What can I do for you?" asked Mrs. Cairne.
"Oh, nothing at all. It will pass off. I've been worried and fatigued. Rest and quiet will do all that is needed."
"Your head aches," said Mrs. Cairne, who saw deep lines cutting down her forehead.
"Very badly."
"Shall I bathe it?"
"If you please."
But, something beyond simple bathing of the hot forehead was needed. Before night, it was deemed best, by Mrs. Cairne, to call in a physician. What he thought of the case, Madeline did not perceive. She was too sick to take much note of what passed around her.
Back to Out in the World