WHEN Mrs. Loring went back to her chamber, after Mr. Dexter withdrew
from the house, she found Jessie in bed, lying as still as if
asleep. She looked up when her aunt came to the bedside--at first
with stealthy, half-timid glances--then with more of trust, that
changed into loving confidence. Mrs. Loring bent down and kissed
her.
"Oh, Aunt Phoebe! that was very cruel in him."
"What was cruel, dear?"
The thoughts of Mrs. Loring went farther back than to the interview
in her parlor.
"He tried to ruin me even in your regard."
"But he failed, Jessie. I will not believe the lowest whisper of an
evil report against you."
"I am as pure in thought and as true in purpose, Aunt Phoebe, as
when I went out from you. I do not love Mr. Dexter--I never loved
him. Still that is no crime--only a necessity. He understood this in
the beginning, and took the risk of happiness--so did I. But he was
not satisfied with all that I could give. He wanted a heart, as well
as a hand--a living, loving spirit, as well as a body. These he
could not possess in me--for the heart loves not by compulsion. Then
jealousy was born in his soul, and suspicion followed. Both were
groundless. I felt a degrading sense of wrong; and at times, a
spirit of rebellion. But I never gave place to a wandering
thought--never gave occasion for wrong construction of my conduct.
Ah, Aunt Phoebe! that marriage was a sad mistake. A union unblessed
by love, is the commencement of a wretched life. It is the old
story; and never loses its tragic interest. It was folly in the
beginning, and it is madness now."
Mrs. Loring would have questioned her niece closely as to the
meaning of Mr. Dexter's allusion to a certain individual as having
been too intimate with his wife, but these closing remarks fell like
rebuke upon her ears. She remembered how almost like a victim-lamb,
Jessie had been led up to the marriage altar; and how she had
overruled all objections, and appealing to her honor, had almost
constrained her into the fulfillment of a promise that should never
have been extorted. And so she remained silent.
"I knew it must come to this sooner or later," Jessie went on; "I
knew that a time must arrive when the only alternative for me would
be death or separation. The separation has taken place sooner than I
had dared to hope; and for the act, I do not hold myself
responsible. He flung me off! To a spirit like mine, his language
was a strong repulsion; and I swept away from him with a force it
would have been vain to resist. We are apart now, and apart
forever."
"You are too much excited, Jessie," said Mrs. Loring, laying her
finger upon the lips of her niece, "and I must enjoin silence and
rest. I have faith in you. I will be your friend, though all the
world pass coldly on in scorn."
Tears glistened in the eyes of Mrs. Dexter as she lifted them, with
a thankful expression, to the face of her aunt, from whom she had
not dared to hope for so tender a reception. She knew Mrs. Loring to
be worldly-minded; she knew her to be a woman of not over delicate
feelings; and as one easily affected by appearances. That she would
blame, denounce, threaten, she had no doubt. A thought of approval,
sympathy, aid or comfort in this fearful trial had not stirred in
her imagination. This unlooked for kindness on the part of her aunt
touched her deeply.
The fact was, Mr. Dexter had gone a step too far. The grossness of
this outrage upon his wife, Mrs. Loring could appreciate, and it was
just of the kind to arouse all her womanly indignation. A more
refined act of cruelty she would not have understood; and might have
adjudged her niece as capricious.
"Thank you, dear Aunt Phoebe, for this love and kindness!" Jessie
could not help saying. "I need it; and, for all I have been as a
wife, am worthy to receive it. As pure in thought and act as when I
parted from you do I return; and now all I ask is to become again
the occupant of that little chamber I once called my own; there to
hide myself from all eyes--there to remain, forgotten by the gay
circles in which I moved for a brief season."
"Dear heart! will you not be quiet?" said Mrs. Loring; laying her
fingers once more upon her lips.
Mrs. Dexter sighed as her lashes drooped upon her cheeks. Very still
she lay after this, and as her aunt stood looking upon her white,
shrunken face and hollow eyes, and noted the purple stain on her
cheek and temple, tears of compassion filled her eyes, and tender
pity softened all her feelings.
That night Jessie slept in her aunt's room. Morning found her in a
calmer state, and with less prostration of body than Mrs. Loring had
feared would ensue. She did not rise until late, but met her cousins
while yet in bed, with a quiet warmth of manner that placed both
them and herself at ease with one another, They bad been frightened
witnesses of the exciting scenes in the parlor, when Mrs. Dexter
twice confronted her husband and met his intimations of wrong with
indignant denial. Beyond this their mother had informed them that
their cousin had left her home and might not again return to it. For
the present she enjoined silence as to what had occurred; and
reserve or evasion of questions should curious inquirers approach
them at school or elsewhere.
Before Jessie had arisen, Mr. Dexter called. He looked worn and
troubled. It was plain that his night had been sleepless.
"How is she?" he asked of Mrs. Loring, almost fearfully, as if
dreading the answer. He did not pronounce the name of his wife.
"Better than I had hoped," was replied.
"Has she required the attention of a physician?"
"No."
Mr. Dexter seemed relieved.
"What is her state of mind?"
"She is more tranquil than I had expected to find her."
Mrs. Loring's manner was cold.
"Have you conversed with her this morning?"
"But little."
"Will she see me?"
"I think not."
"Will you ask her?"
"Not now. She is too weak to bear a recurrence of agitating scenes."
Mr. Dexter bit his lips firmly as if striving with his feelings.
"When can I see her?"
"That question I am unable now to answer, Mr. Dexter. But my own
opinion is that it will be better for you to see her to-morrow than
to-day: better next week than to-morrow. You must give time for
calmness and reflection."
"She is my wife!" exclaimed Mr. Dexter, not able to control himself.
The manner in which this was said conveyed clearly his thought to
Mrs. Loring, and she replied with equal feeling--
"But not your slave to command!"
"Madam! I warn you not to enter into this league against me--not to
become a party in this wicked scheme! If you do, then you must bear
the consequences of such blind folly. I am not the man to submit
tamely. I will not submit."
"You are simply beating the air," replied Mrs. Loring. "There is no
league against you--no wicked scheme--nothing beyond your own
excited imagination; and I warn you, in turn, not to proceed one
step further in this direction."
"Madam! can I see my wife?" The attitude of Mr. Dexter was
threatening.
"No, sir. Not now," was the firmly spoken answer.
He turned to go.
"Mr. Dexter."
"Well? Say on."
"I do not wish you to call here again."
"Madam! my wife is harboring here."
"I will give my servant orders not to admit you!" said Mrs. Loring,
outraged by this remark.
For an instant Dexter looked as if he would destroy her, were it in
his power, by a single glance; then turning away he left the house,
muttering impotent threats.
And so the breach grew wider.
"I don't wonder that Jessie could not live with him," said Mrs.
Loring to herself. "Such a temper! Dear heart! Who can tell how much
she may have suffered?"