Out in the World CHAPTER 31.
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The Lawrences had neither seen Mr. Jansen nor heard of him for weeks. After the cold, damp, November weather set in, his calls at the store of Mr. Lawrence ceased. It was understood between the two men, that if Madeline were discovered, Mr. Jansen was to be at once informed of the fact.
The first day of the new year had arrived. It was nearly a week since Madeline had found peace and safety with her old friend, since the weary and fainting wanderer amid barren wastes, had rested on soft green banks by cooling waters. But, she had not rallied physically, although but few symptoms of the serious attack of illness from which she was suffering when Doctor Wheatland found her, remained. The weak body had, for a long period, been sustained by the mind. The very necessity for effort, had kept her from fainting and falling by the way. Now that struggle had ceased, there was no return of vital power to the body's over-taxed forces. She lay very quiet, sometimes almost lethargic. She talked but little. Her mind, apparently not very active, seemed dwelling, half dreamily, half consciously, amid memories or hopes that were too dimly revealed to awaken in her heart a quicker pulsation.
Mrs. Lawrence did not seek to disturb this condition of mind; but ministered to her state with a care and tenderness born of purest affection. Doctor Wheatland saw her every day, lingering in her room, and watching over her with a far more than professional concern. After years of wandering amid desert valleys and barren mountains — the days of suffering and loneliness were over. No more bruised and bleeding feet — torn flesh — terror of wild beasts — shiverings in the storm. Peace, safety, love! — these instead. Whether sleeping or waking — in the body, or out of the body, Madeline scarcely knew. Oh, the sweetness, the calmness, the serenity of that rest, after years of lonely struggle and pain, whose climax of despair had been almost reached!
"I will call at Mr. Jansen's." It was New Years day. Mr. Lawrence looked in at the room where his wife was sitting.
"You'll see Mr. Jansen?"
"Oh, yes. I am going for that purpose alone." And he went out.
At Mr. Jansen's, he found the New Year's table spread with turkey, oysters, biscuit, brandy, wine, cake, fruit, etc., in liberal abundance, and Mrs. Jansen and her two oldest daughters, dressed out in jewels and finery to receive company. He thought it best to assume the attitude of a New Year's day caller, and so made his compliments to the ladies, sipped from a glass of wine, and took a mouthful or two of cake. Then he asked about the health of Mr. Jansen.
"He's miserable," was answered, with assumed concern. Mr. Lawrence saw that it was assumed.
"Does he ride out this weather?" he inquired.
"Oh, no indeed," replied the wife. "He hasn't been downstairs for a week."
The bell rung. Fresh callers were at the door. It was Mr. Lawrence's opportunity.
"Can I see him?" he said.
The countenance of Mrs. Jansen changed. She had not expected this. What did he want with her husband? She had an instinct of danger; or, not to use so strong a sentence, asuspicion that something was to be communicated not intended for her ears. She thought to a conclusion rapidly, and answered with a bland smile —
"Oh yes, certainly," and she spoke to a servant who was in the room, who went upstairs, and immediately returned with word from Mr. Jansen, that Mr. Lawrence would come to his room. In the meantime, fresh callers had arrived, to the number of four or five, and they happened to be personages from whom Mrs. Jansen could not possibly excuse herself, and leave them to be entertained by her daughters. In the flutter of their reception, Mr. Lawrence accompanied ed by the servant, left the parlors and went to the room of Mr. Jansen.
It was a comfortless, neglected room — yet with every means of comfort in profusion. The hand of a loving, thoughtful wife, was nowhere visible. It was eleven o'clock, and yet the chamber had not been set in order. Mr. Jansen was sitting in a large easy chair, near a table on which books and papers were lying about in disorder.
Ashes and cinders covered the grate hearth; the window curtains were drawn awry; dust bedimmed everything; the floor was littered in many places; the air was close and impure for lack of ventilation.
Mr. Jansen had changed considerably. His face was whiter, his eyes sunk farther back in their orbits. It was plain that he had been wasting away rapidly. A light broke over his face as Mr. Lawrence came in.
"Have you heard form her?" It was his first question, asked eagerly, as he took his visitor's hand.
"Yes."
A tremor thrilled the hand that still clasped that of Mr. Lawrence.
"What of her?" There was a look of painful suspense in the countenance of Mr. Jansen.
"She is at my house."
"Oh! Thank God!" he had been leaning eagerly forward; now he sunk back in his chair, shutting his eyes. The whole expression of his face had changed. Pain was gone, and in its stead relief blended with satisfaction.
"At your house?" he opened his eyes, and looked gratefully at Mr. Lawrence.
"Yes, where she will remain."
"How is she?"
"She was sick when we found her; but is recovering."
"Where did you find her?"
"She was taken suddenly ill, and the people with whom she lodged called in a physician, who happened to be Doctor Wheatland, by whom she was recognized. He told Mrs. Lawrence, who had her removed at once to our house."
"God's good providence," said Mr. Jansen. "Oh, how thankful I am! And now, what of her? How does she come up out of her fiery trial?"
"Pure."
Jansen shut his eyes very tightly. The lashes quivered on his pale cheeks. When he opened them, the lashes were wet — but the eyes had a new light in them.
"Pure." He echoed the word, with a deep satisfaction in his voice.
"Fit for Heaven; so my wife says, and she has looked down into her heart."
"Pure and fit for Heaven." Jansen spoke to himself in an undertone, feebly, again shutting his eyes; but started in a moment afterwards, with shadows of disappointment on his brow, as the door swung open, and his wife, radiant in satin, gold and diamonds, burst in upon them as if they were conspirators. Suspicion was plainly marked on her face. She eyed the two men sharply — but discovered nothing. A new feeling quickly dominated. Mortification at the shameful condition of her husband's room, into which she had not before entered on this particular morning. That it would be described to Mrs. Lawrence, she did not doubt. The best she could do, was to break out in a coarse tirade against the neglectful servant, and to lay blame upon the head of her husband for permitting things to remain in that state.
Mr. Jansen made no reply; but his visitor saw disgust and repulsion on his face. It was plain to Mr. Lawrence, that Mrs. Jansen would not leave them alone, and so rising, he said —
"I hope to see you better when I call again," and bowing to both Mr. and Mrs. Jansen, withdrew. There passed between the two men a look of intelligence which the hawk-eyes of Mrs. Jansen did not fail to detect.
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