Out in the World CHAPTER 27.
Back to Out in the World
"Did you receive any response?" eagerly asked Mr. Jansen. Friday had come, and he was at the residence of Mrs.Lawrence.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Madeline is not there."
"Not there!"
"No. Here is Mrs. Cooper's letter." Mr. Jansen read — "It is just one year since the person about whom you inquire left us under peculiar circumstances suddenly. We have not, since, been able to learn anything in regard to her, though we have made considerable inquiry. Two months of her wages remain in our hands. If you succeed in discovering her, we would like to be informed of the fact, so that we can send her the amount due."
Mr. Jansen, after reading this letter, sat, with drooping head and an air of deep disappointment for a considerable time.
"The search cannot be given up, Mrs. Lawrence," he said, at length, in a husky voice.
"I am weak. I cannot bear fatigue or excitement. But, if it cost me my life, I will find Madeline — that is," he added, with a dropping of his voice, "if she is still living in this world."
"If we had any clue," said Mrs. Lawrence.
"We must find a clue."
"An advertisement might reach her," suggested Mrs. Lawrence.
"I will think about that."
"It might be so worded as not to attract the attention of curious or meddlesome people, and yet indicate Madeline in a way to make her understand it. Turn the suggestion over in your mind. Perhaps you will see it more clearly."
The suggestion was turned over in the mind of Mr. Jansen and acted upon. He could see no other way of discovering Madeline. The advertisement was in these terms: "An old school friend of Madeline Spencer (Jansen) desires to see her. A line to 'Jessie,' at this office, giving address, will have immediate attention."
Some controversy passed between Mrs. Lawrence and Mr. Jansen as to the exact terms of this advertisement. The delicate part was the name. There was no knowing under whose eyes it might fall. Mr. Jansen had reasons of his own, for not desiring his wife's attention in any way attracted. For all her selfish indifference towards him, she had, on more than one occasion, evinced a jealous alertness, which surprised and annoyed him. It had not escaped her notice, that a woman had been found in his room at Newport on the occasion of his sudden illness. This woman left immediately on her appearance from the ball-room, whence she had been summoned.
"Who is that?" she had asked, as Madeline, retiring from the bedside, went quickly out of the chamber. The alarm occasioned by her husband's dangerous state, was not strong enough to repress something more than curiosity.
"One of the nurses," was replied by the waiter who had called the physician.
"Whose nurse?"
"I don't know," was replied.
On the next day, Mrs. Jansen pursued the subject, and ascertained that the woman she had found in attendance on her husband, was Mrs. Cooper's nurse. Singularly enough, as it appeared to her, this nurse was nowhere to be seen. Two or three times during the morning, she saw Mrs. Cooper, and always in attendance on her child.
Suspense with coarse minds is intolerable. They will break through all delicate reserves or decent proprieties for relief. So Mrs. Jansen accosted Mrs. Cooper with the question —
"Where is your nurse, ma'am?"
"She was taken ill, and went away this morning," replied Mrs. Cooper, who knew her questioner, and felt that she might entertain a suspicion of Madeline's true identity.
"Taken ill! Why, what ailed her? She was well enough last evening." There was a rude abruptness about Mrs. Jansen that Mrs. Cooper did not feel inclined to tolerate.
"All are subject to sudden illness," she answered, quietly — yet with, a studied reserve that was meant and felt as a rebuke.
"Who is this nurse?" asked Mrs. Jansen, in a more subdued and respectful manner.
"She was my nurse. I can answer in regard to her no farther, except it be to speak of her kind and dutiful conduct in my family, and to regret the circumstance that deprives me of her services."
"What is her name?"
"I trust the sickness is only temporary, and that I shall find her at home when I leave here," said Mrs. Cooper, not answering the question.
"What did you call her?"
Mrs. Cooper stooped to give some attention to little Netty, whom she was holding by the hand. The child drew upon her, and wished to go in from the piazza where they were standing. This afforded a plea for getting rid of Mrs. Jansen. So, with a polite inclination of the head and body, Mrs. Cooper said —
"Good day, ma'am," and withdrew into the house.
Curiosity, baffled, is only increased. Mrs. Jansen made another attempt to gain from Mrs. Cooper the information she so much desired — but was no more successful than at first. Piqued, annoyed, and rendered more suspicious from this appearance of mystery, Mrs. Jansen tried, by inquiries among the servants, to learn something about Madeline. But none of them knew anything about her.
"Did you know that woman I found here on the night you were taken sick?" she asked, abruptly, of Mr. Jansen, as she stood at his bedside on the second day after the serious attack we have described, and while he was yet in a very weak and dangerous condition. The question made him startle.
"Which?" he inquired, with an effort to seem indifferent that was not entirely successful. Suspicion gives keenness of perception. Mrs. Jansen saw through this veil.
"Why, the woman who was holding your head, and putting the salt and water to your lips! You know who I mean!"
"Oh, yes. She was in the passage when I ran to the door in alarm. I might have died but for her prompt assistance," Mr. Jansen replied, feebly, shutting his eyes and turning his face to the wall.
"You knew her!" said his wife, sharply, with accusation and reproach blending in her voice.
"How should I know her?" Mr. Jansen did not lift his eyelids, nor turn his head. Taking the case as it stood, he felt the necessity of concealment and circumspection; and so, even in his weakness, exercised strength of will. His condition was his refuge.
"How should you know her? This is just the question. Of course, you did know her! That is plain!"
So she probed him; but he kept silent — and ever after kept silent when she touched the subject.
From this it will be seen upon what delicate ground Mr. Jansen was treading. He understood the difficulties by which he was environed — yet did not hesitate. The object in view raised him above all hindering questions. He did not wish the advertisement to fail, and so, after much debate with himself, resolved to give it the wording we have seen. He knew, of course, that if it met his wife's eyes, it would subject him to sharp and suspicious interrogation. But, he trusted in his power to veil everything under an habitual cold and unemotional exterior. He did not know that his wife's suspicions were aroused in advance, and that she was already on his track.
It so happened, that Mrs. Jansen was riding past tin house of Mrs. Lawrence at the very time her husband was entering it, on the day he first went there to make inquiries about Madeline. She had seen him standing at the door — but with his face turned from her. The form seemed so like his, that she was startled by the resemblance. She drove home immediately, and found that he had gone out in a hired carriage. A host of wild suspicions was born instantly in her bosom. Her first thought was to order the coachman to drive her back into the neighborhood where she had seen her husband; but this, on reflection, was deemed imprudent. The house she had seen him enter was one in a row of six or eight, precisely alike in external appearance. She had failed to note it so particularly as to insure identification. Mrs. Jansen was annoyed at this impediment.
"I'll catch him!" she said to herself. "I'll find him out. I'll know just where he has been, and who he visits."
"Oh! So you've been taking a ride for yourself," she said, in a half querulous, half bantering tone, when Mr. Jansen returned. "Why didn't you say that you wanted the carriage? I could have walked."
"I didn't think of going until you were away. But, no matter. The carriage I had was very easy."
"Where have you been?" The woman's keen eyes were fixed on his face, and he knew it.
"I only took a short ride," was answered. "The day being fine, I knew the air would refresh me."
"Did you stop anywhere?"
"Yes."
"Where?" Very imperatively.
Mr. Jansen turned and looked at his wife steadily for some moments. Then answered coldly, and without taking his eyes from her face —
"When did you acquire the right to question me in regard to my outgoings and my incomings?"
He still kept his eyes upon her. Mrs. Jansen's face grew livid, and then very pale. A storm gathered swiftly in her bosom; but she held it back from bursting.
"Oh, just as you like!" she answered, a gurgling laugh in her throat. It did not fall upon her husband's ears like a human laugh.
Each was willing to retire from the conflict — but for different reasons.
Under this aspect of affairs, it was risking something to let the name "Jansen" appear in the advertisement for Madeline. But, after weighing every consideration that presented itself, Mr. Jansen decided as we have seen.
A very intimate acquaintance called to see Mrs. Jansen on the day this advertisement appeared. She had encountered it in looking over the "Times," and could not rest until she had brought it to the notice of her friend.
"Have you seen that?" she said, on meeting Mrs. Jansen, handing her, with a look of mystery, the advertisement she had cut from the morning paper.
Mrs. Jansen devoured it with her eyes greedily.
"Madeline Spencer (Jansen)! What does it mean?" She looked at her friend in blank astonishment.
"That's just it! What does it mean? I thought, maybe, you hadn't seen it, and so I put on my things and ran right around here."
"It was considerate of you. Madeline Spencer (Jansen)! An old school friend desires to see her. 'Jessie,' Who's 'Jessie,' I wonder?"
"And who's Madeline Spencer (Jansen) asked the friend.
"I know!" A strong, red light flashing into Mrs. Jansen's face. "I know!" And she gripped her hands, and shut her teeth firmly.
"Who?"
Mrs. Jansen bent towards her friend, and whispered huskily — "His first wife!"
"Who's? Mr. Jansen's?"
"Yes — yes. I've had a suspicion that something was brewing. Of course, I talk to you as if you were my own sister; and you'll be as silent as death."
"His first wife!"
"That was her name — Madeline Spencer."
"Goodness! I thought she died years ago. But, what do you make of this effort to find her by some old friend? You've had suspicions, you say. About what?"
"I don't know. Something's in the wind — that's sure. It was thoughtful in you to bring me this advertisement."
"Suppose you answer it?"
Mrs. Jansen turned this suggestion over in her mind before responding.
"A line, giving address, will have immediate attention. I'm not Madeline Spencer Jansen, and can't give the required address."
"That doesn't signify," returned the friend. "Send a note to the office, asking for this 'Jessie's' address. You'll get a reply, and so find out who 'Jessie' is."
"Maybe yes, and maybe no. Some people are mighty cute. 'Jessie' wants Madeline's address; and until she gets that, will hardly give her own. I'll tell you what's come into my mind. You'll help me all you can?"
"Don't fear for that. Say on, Mrs. Jansen."
"You answer the advertisement."
"How?"
"Pretend to be this Madeline."
"But, I must give an address."
"That may be managed, I think."
"I don't see the way."
"Of course, you can't see her at your own house. Somewhere else must be found. I'll tell you who might be trusted. She's under obligations and will do anything for you."
"Jane Bradley, the dressmaker?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Jansen. "Jane has over half a dozen work women, and you might impersonate one of them as 'Madeline.' You needn't go very far, you know. All we are after, is to find out who this 'Jessie' is, and what she wants."
"Do you think Jane Bradley can be trusted?" asked the friend.
"I've not a doubt of it."
The dressmaker was approached by the friend of Mrs. Jansen, and found pliable. She was a thoughtless woman, fond of excitement or adventure, and not apt to considerconsequences. A note was sent to the "Times" office by the pretended "Madeline," asking for an interview at the dressmaker's. The first impulse of Mrs. Lawrence was to go; but, on reflection, she concluded to wait until Mr. Jansen called, and submit the note to him.
"Not our Madeline," said Mr. Jansen, in a tone of disappointment, on reading the note.
"Why do you think so?" asked Mrs. Lawrence.
"This is written by an uneducated person. You see the bad spelling, and the cramped, heavy hand."
"True. I hadn't considered that."
"And yet," said Mr. Jansen, in a thoughtful, perplexed way, "there is something familiar about the writing. It isn't Madeline's I know."
"Perhaps she is ill. This may have been written at her dictation," suggested Mrs. Lawrence.
"Then she would have had the fact stated." Mr. Jansen lifted the note and read it over once more.
"At Jane Bradley's!" he exclaimed, his whole manner putting on a new aspect.
"Who is Jane Bradley?" inquired Mrs. Lawrence.
"My wife's dressmaker!" There was a look of blank discomfiture in his countenance. "And now I recognize the hand-writing of this note. It is my wife's penmanship."
The face of Mrs. Lawrence showed alarm.
"I have made a narrow escape," she said. "This ground is not safe for me."
Mrs. Lawrence glanced through the closed Venetian blinds as she spoke. She had turned her head so that the expression of her countenance might not be seen by Mr. Jansen.
"Do you know that woman?" She spoke quickly, with concern in her voice.
Mr. Jansen arose, and looked out from behind the shutters.
"There she is, walking slowly down on the other side. I've seen her about here three or four times in the last two days. Once she came up our steps and examined the door, evidently searching for an address. I saw her do the same thing next door. There! She has stopped and is looking round. You see her face. Do you know her?"
Mr. Jansen moved quickly back from the window, and sat down.
"Do you know her?" repeated Mrs. Lawrence, moving back also, and confronting Mr. Jansen.
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
"A woman I detest. One of my wife's particular friends."
They were silent for some time, Mrs. Lawrence standing and her visitor sitting. The latter spoke first.
"One thing is plain," he said, "It will not do for me to come here any more."
"Not on any consideration," replied Mrs. Lawrence.
"And yet I cannot give up this search for Madeline — I cannot, and I will not!" Mr. Jansen spoke with decision.
"Some other means must be adopted. You see in what a questionable position I am standing," said Mrs. Lawrence. "My husband would be angry if he knew what I had done. He has, like all of us, his peculiar ways of thinking; and is particularly sensitive about getting mixed up, as he calls it, with other people's affairs. I wanted to talk with him about this matter, and get his approval of what I was doing — but I feared an opposition, so decided that I not tell him. My heart was with Madeline, and for her sake, I have done what would seriously displease my husband if it should come to his ears, even without bias or exaggeration. But, now that your wife's suspicions are aroused; now that she answers my advertisement, and sets a watch upon my house, it is time that I retraced the steps I have taken."
"Will you not send to the Times office again? Madeline may see the advertisement and answer it."
"I'm afraid to take another step forward, Mr. Jansen, as things now are. The imprudence of letting my name appear in the advertisement, was very great. I was so intent on having Madeline recognize the hand of a friend, that I did not consider its personal bearing on myself. My husband is as likely to see it as anyone else."
"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Jansen, "it will be safest, all things considered, to tell your husband the whole story from beginning to end."
The rattle of a key was heard that moment in the front door. Mrs. Lawrence startled, changed color, and looked frightened.
"My husband!" she ejaculated. But instantly regained her composure.
"All must now be told," she said. "Manifest no disturbance, and leave all to me."
There was a heavy frown on the face of Mr. Lawrence, as a moment afterwards, he stood in the parlor door. His wife went towards him, smiling, and said, introducing her visitor —
"Mr. Jansen."
The latter, with more self-possession than he had hoped to assume, arose, and took the hand which Mr. Lawrence could not help offering.
"We are secret plotters," said Mrs. Lawrence, with an ease of manner that took Mr. Jansen by surprise; "and now that you have come in so opportunely, or, inopportunely as the sequel may prove — we must take you into our counsels. I know that you are not good at working underground; still, in the multitude of counselors there is said to be wisdom, and you may be of signal service."
"No, I am not good at working in the dark," replied Mr. Lawrence, scarcely relaxing his severe manner. "Above board is my motto, always. More harm than good comes of thesesecret doings."
"All rules have their exceptions," said Mrs. Lawrence. "Where the end is pure and humane, and it cannot be reached, through the interference of wrong-minded people, if pursued in common observation — it is right to work in secret. And this is just what we have been doing. The end has been good to one — and harm to none. If any come in and try to make harm, the evil is with them. But this is unintelligible to you. Let me lift the veil and show you just what has been purposed, and what has been done."
Mrs. Lawrence then related, without concealment of anything, what the reader knows of their efforts to discover Madeline. With a womanly tact and eloquence, against which the most implacable natures are not always able to protect themselves, she managed to interest her husband's feelings. Suspicion was disarmed, when he knew the whole truth. We say suspicion, for that had been awakened by an anonymous letter, the receipt of which had brought him home at an unusual hour. The letter was from the hand of Mrs. Jansen.
"And now, Henry, that you know all about these secret doings, will you not give us the benefit of your clear judgment, your skill, and your prudence. We must find Madeline, if she is still living. Mr. Jansen's relation to the matter is delicate, and exceedingly embarrassing. He cannot move a step without exciting a jealous suspicion; nor without danger of misjudgment. We might, in the cause of justice and humanity, take this work into our own hands, and do it in our own way. Acting with my husband, I would then be safe from unjust judgment. There is no danger, here, of getting mixed up with other people's affairs — your peculiar horror. It is a plain case. We have, simply, to find Madeline, and do for her what Mr. Jansen may request. He can see you at your store, and the business upon which he calls be your own affair, and out of the reach of meddlesome curiosity."
Mr. Lawrence dropped his eyes, and pondered the matter for a good while. All his natural inclinations and peculiar modes of thinking, were in opposition. He belonged to that class of men who consider the time lost that is occupied in other people's affairs. He asked no one to look after him or his — he was competent to take care of his own concerns — so he thought, and so he was in the habit of expressing himself. Trouble was involved in all this that he was called upon to do; trouble that brought no reward. But, how could he say no? It was a case from which he could not turn himself, and escape the charge of inhumanity. Moreover, something in his wife's appeal, and something in the grieving sadness of Mr. Jansen's wan and wasted countenance, touched his pity, and moved him to consent.
"If I can serve you in this, Mr. Jansen," he said, with far more of sympathy in his manner than his wife had hoped for, "I will do so cheerfully."
Mr. Lawrence looked from Mr. Jansen to his wife, as he thus answered, and saw light gleam over her face; a light that made her look doubly beautiful. She turned upon him eyes full of gratitude and pleasure; eyes, in which he saw more of the old regard and tenderness, than had been manifested for a long time.
"You have lifted a heavy weight that was bearing me down," said Mr. Jansen. "My heart is very grateful. Mrs. Lawrence knows my views about Madeline, and will communicate them. I leave all the means of finding her in your hands. Do for her, if found, all that your judgment and feelings warrant — and I will bear the cost. Oh, my friends!" — and his voice trembled — "let me beg of you to fail in no effort. I believe her to be pure and true. I saw her a year ago, and read her face. It was written all over with lines of suffering, of patience, and of resignation. She passed me, as a rebuking spirit; and yet, laid on me, tenderly and forgivingly, the hand of blessing as she passed. When I think of what she has suffered — of what she may now be suffering — I am so deeply pained that I can scarcely endure the anguish. I am wasting away, as you see. My strength is gone. I am of but little more use in this world. But, this work of mercy, my hands must do — even if I fail in everything else."
"Leave all to us," replied Mr. Lawrence, with an interest in Madeline's case that surprised even himself. "We will do all that lies in our power. If living, we will certainly find her."
"Thus assured, Mr. Jansen went away, Mr. Lawrence accompanying him to the door. As they stood talking just within the vestibule, the woman noticed by Mrs. Lawrence went past again, on the other side. She saw Mr. Jansen, and quickening her pace, hurried out of sight.
Back to Out in the World