Out in the World CHAPTER 20.
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Mrs. Woodbine was entertaining some friends in her parlor, when a servant came in and said there was a lady in the hall who wished to speak to her. It was Mrs. Jansen. She stood, shrinking near the vestibule door. Mrs. Woodbine met her with a coldly polite air. She did not even offer her hand to Madeline, on whose part there was as reserved and distant a manner.
"Have you a letter for me?" A sadness crept into the speaker's voice in spite of her effort to seem calmly indifferent.
Mrs. Woodbine shook her head.
"No communication of any kind?"
"None."
In a half hesitating, half lingering way, Mrs. Jansen stood for some moments, then moving back into the vestibule, she said —
"Good day."
"Good day," returned Mrs. Woodbine; and the vestibule door shut on the retiring visitor.
This was on the day after Mrs. Jansen left Philadelphia.
"Who do you think it was?" said Mrs. Woodbine, on returning to the parlor.
"Who?" asked two or three ladies at once.
"Mrs. Jansen!"
"No!"
"Yes."'
"Why didn't you ask her in?"
Mrs. Woodbine shut her lips, looked painfully mysterious, and shook her head slowly.
"Anything wrong about her?"
"I'm afraid so."
"What have you heard?"
"Nothing that you can just put your hands on. But, I've had hints and intimations; a word here and a word there which, all put together, have an unpleasant look. She hasn't fallen into the right kind of company — whether this is her fault or her misfortune, I cannot say. The fact is so far against her. We judge of people, you know, by their companions."
"What did she want?"
Mrs. Woodbine lifted her eyebrows
"A letter from her husband."
"You are jesting."
"No. 'Have you a letter for me?' That wife her question. I will explain. Six months ago, as you are aware, she left her husband. I was her friend, and opposed her in every possible way; but she was stubborn and self-willed, and would listen to no reason. In going away from her husband, she wrote him a letter, in which she said, that unless he sent for her to come back, she would never return. My house was given as the place where any communication would reach her. She had, I can't understand why, counted on making it her headquarters! But she was doomed to disappointment in that. Her call today shows, that she still clings to the hope of hearing from her husband. But, her hope is vain. He is just as strong-willed as Mrs. Jansen. I warned her that she was playing a desperate game, with all the chances against her. It has come out as I expected."
"When was she here last?"
"About three months ago."
"Where has she been, during the time?"
"Can't say."
"Away from the city?"
"Possible." Mrs. Woodbine affected to know more than she cared to divulge.
"How did she look?"
"Badly."
"In what respect?"
"Her face was much thinner than I had ever seen it, and had an anxious expression. She looked ten years older than she appeared on the day she left her husband. She always dressed elegantly, as you are aware. The contrast in her appearance today was painful. She had on a dark straw bonnet, with plain brown trimming; an unadorned dress, and a cloth scarf that had seen considerable service. Almost anyone would have passed her in the street for a servant."
"How has the mighty fallen! And yet, I pity her from my heart," said one of the ladies. Her husband is a brute, I am told."
"No," answered Mrs. Woodbine. "Not a brute. That word expresses to much. He is, like most men, a self-sufficient tyrant, and looks down upon a woman as an inferior being. If his wife had not been a silly, self-willed little fool, she might have got along with him. But, she was too proud to bend the tenth part of a degree out of her fine perpendicularity. She would not stoop to manage him — O no! Home, happiness, reputation before the world, were nothing in her eyes — when set in opposition to her pride. No bending for her. She would stand erect or break, and so she broke. Well, I have no patience with such people. Faithfully, as in duty bound, I warned and remonstrated; but she let my words pass as the idle winds. Now she must go her own way; and I think that she will find it rougher than was imagined."
Slowly Mrs. Jansen descended the steps, up which she had gone a few moments before, with a faint hope glimmering in her mind. That hope was dead! Slowly she moved away, her veil drawn closely about her face. At the next corner, she found herself face to face with her husband! Suddenly her feet stood still. The power of motion was gone. But, her dress and thick veil proved a complete disguise. He passed her, without a pause. His name was on her lips. Under a wild impulse she tried to call after him. But her tongue was, for the instant, paralyzed. Standing, as motionless as a statue, she gazed after his receding form, until it was lost to sight; then, with hard shut mouth, deathly pale face, and hands clenched so tightly that the nails almost cut the flesh, she passed on her indeterminate way.
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