Above all the trouble and turmoil of her thoughts, clear and definite
amid the chaos brought into her old quiet, languid life, was
the impulse--the necessity--to conceal that which had become the
mainspring of her existence. She had not the experience of one versed
in the ways of the world. How could others--how could he--be kept in
ignorance of that of which she was so painfully and vividly conscious?
Therefore, overwhelmed with dread and a sense of helplessness, she
yielded to her first impulse to hide, in order that what seemed
inseparable from herself might be concealed.
But she knew that this seclusion could not last--that she must meet
this first and great emergency of her life in some other way. From the
strong wish to obtain safety in separation, a plan to bring it about
gradually took form in her mind. She must escape, either to live or
to die, before her secret became known; and in casting about for the
means, she at last thought of a family who had been the kindest of
neighbors in the village where her mother had died. Mr. Wayland and
his wife had been the truest and most sympathetic of friends to the
widow and her orphan children, and Madge felt that she could be at
home with them. Mrs. Wayland's prolonged ill-health had induced her
husband to try, in her behalf, the remedy of an entire change of air
and climate. Therefore they had removed, some years before, to Santa
Barbara, on the Pacific coast. The signal success of the experiment
now kindled a glimmer of hope in poor Madge. That remote city
certainly secured the first requisites--separation and distance--and
the fact that her friend found health and vigor in the semi-tropical
resort promised a little for her frail young life. She had few fears
that her old friends would not welcome her, and she was in a position
to entail no burdens, even though she should remain an invalid.
The practical question was, How should she get there? But the more
she thought upon the plan the more attractive it grew. The situation
seemed so desperate that she was ready for a desperate remedy. To
remain weak, helpless, and in perpetual dread was impossible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account