Chaste as Ice, Pure as Snow: A Novel

by C. Despard

Another element went to the forming of this deadly hatred. Her mistress was kind and gentle, but she never descended to Jane's level. The landlady might think as she would of her lodger's antecedents; there remained in spite of all as immeasurable a distance between them as had ever separated Jane Rodgers the servant from her haughtiest mistress. It was a something that daily fretted the woman's spirit—in a great measure, it may be, because it was incomprehensible.

Jane was no communist or republican; the barriers of rank and fashion she could thoroughly understand. She had never bruised herself by attempting to beat against those iron bars. "Providence," she would piously remark to such of her equals as complained in her presence of inequality of lots—"Providence had ordained as there should be rich and poor, high and low, which, as far as she could see, was judicious, for what would a servant do as a fine lady, and how could a fine lady do for herself?"

But in the refinement that independently of circumstances and surroundings raises one above another, Jane could not see the hand of Providence so directly.

Mrs. Grey seemed to have no particular position in the world, few people knew her, her clothes were often shabbier than Jane's. The landlady believed, and probably with reason, that she could have bought up her mistress's possessions with very little trouble. Where, then, was the difference between them? Why was it that Jane had instinctively stood in the presence of her lodger, and treated her (until the last access of rage and hatred) with the same respect as she had treated mistresses who were high in the scale of the world's honor? She could not understand it, and it galled her proud spirit till dark, brooding evil took full possession of her.

This it was that had prompted her strange behavior in Mrs. Grey's absence. This it was that had caused her last and basest treachery.

Jane had not, indeed, objected to the bribe, which had been tolerably large, but for the money's sake she would not have compromised herself. It was against Jane's principles. That she had gone through life tolerably clean-handed was chiefly owing to this. She had a mind capable of looking beyond the paltry bribe to the consequences involved in its reception. Anxiety of mind, care, terror of discovery,—she was given to comparing the relative value of these with that of the gold which would buy her concurrence in some underhand scheme, and generally the decision was against the gold. But this time the danger of discovery was not great and the service rendered was small, scarcely amounting, so Jane reasoned with herself, to complicity in the deed. The money was acceptable and the revenge was sweet.

It was very bewildering to Jane's mind and rather destructive to her peace that as soon as ever the affair had occurred Mrs. Grey's friends came flocking to the place. First the lawyer; but Jane was shrewd enough to see that he was not dangerous to her—rather, perhaps, to her mistress. After him, however, came the young Arthur, a man of very different type, and even before the overheard conversation Jane had caught the young man watching her very closely. She knew then that Margaret had told her troubles to a sympathizing listener, who was ready to devote himself to her service. She had a shrewd suspicion, too, that he would succeed in unearthing the mystery. And then her share in the abduction of the child might very possibly come to light.

Her suspicions were confirmed by the few decided words in which Arthur alluded to his fears for Margaret and his earnest desire that she should choose another residence. If they had seen the white look of fear and hatred which overspread the face of the listener, Margaret would probably have come to a very different decision. Jane's hatred had been great before. The penetration of the young man and the quiet acquiescence of her lodger increased it tenfold; while joined to these was a sudden fear lest the salutary advice should be followed, lest Mrs. Grey should leave the house and the schemes of her young protector be carried on wholly out of her reach.

Her fears were set at rest, but Margaret's calm answer inflamed her once more. She read in it a quiet contempt at the bare idea of Jane being able to inflict any kind of annoyance upon her, with the exception of a stupid insolence.

The woman crept from the door with the spirit of evil in her heart. She spent the next day brooding.