Lady Ferry Page #6

"Lady Ferry" is a novella by Sarah Orne Jewett that explores themes of love, loss, and the passage of time through the lens of a small New England community. The story revolves around the character of Lady Ferry, a former belle who grapples with her past while navigating the complexities of her relationships. Jewett's lyrical prose immerses readers in the rich imagery of the setting, highlighting the connection between personal history and the natural world. The work is a poignant reflection on the enduring impacts of memory and the deep-seated ties of community.

• Short story

								

rose and went into the adjoining room, bidding me follow her, and
there opened a drawer containing some old jewelry; there were also
some queer Chinese carvings, yellow with age,--just the things a child
would enjoy. I looked at them delightedly. This was coming back to
more familiar life; and I soon felt more at ease, and chattered to
Lady Ferry of my own possessions, and some coveted treasures of my
mother's, which were to be mine when I grew older.

Madam stood beside me patiently, and listened with a half smile to my
whispered admiration. In the clearer light I could see her better, and
she seemed older,--so old, so old! and my father's words came to me
again. She had not changed since he was a boy; living on and on, and
the 'horror of an endless life in this world!' And I remembered what
Martha had said to me, and the consciousness of this mystery was a
great weight upon me of a sudden. Why was she living so long? and what
had happened to her? and how long could it be since she was a child?

There was something in her manner which made me behave, even in my
pleasure, as if her imagined funeral were there in reality, and as if,
in spite of my being amused and tearless, the solemn company of
funeral guests already sat in the next room to us with bowed heads,
and all the shadows in the world had assembled there materialized into
the tangible form of crape. I opened and closed the boxes gently, and,
when I had seen every thing, I looked up with a sigh to think that
such a pleasure was ended, and asked if I might see them again some
day. But the look in her face made me recollect myself, and my own
grew crimson, for it seemed at that moment as real to me as to Lady
Ferry herself that this was her last day of mortal life. She walked
away, but presently came back, while I was wondering if I might not
go, and opened the drawer again. It creaked, and the brass handles
clacked in a startling way, and she took out a little case, and said I
might keep it to remember her by. It held a little vinaigrette,--a
tiny silver box with a gold one inside, in which I found a bit of fine
sponge, dark brown with age, and still giving a faint, musty perfume
and spiciness. The outside was rudely chased, and was worn as if it
had been carried for years in somebody's pocket. It had a spring, the
secret of which Lady Ferry showed me. I was delighted, and
instinctively lifted my face to kiss her. She bent over me, and waited
an instant for me to kiss her again. "Oh!" said she softly, "it is so
long since a child has kissed me! I pray God not to leave you
lingering like me, apart from all your kindred, and your life so long
that you forget you ever were a child."--"I will kiss you every day,"
said I, and then again remembered that there were to be no more days
according to her plan; but she did not seem to notice my mistake. And
after this I used to go to see Madam often. For a time there was
always the same gloom and hushed way of speaking, and the funeral
services were to be on the morrow; but at last one day I found Deborah
sedately putting the room in order, and Lady Ferry apologized for its
being in such confusion; the idea of the funeral had utterly vanished,
and I hurried to tell cousin Agnes with great satisfaction. I think
that both she and cousin Matthew had a dislike for my being too much
with Madam. I was kept out of doors as much as possible because it was
much better for my health; and through the long summer days I strayed
about wherever I chose. The country life was new and delightful to me.
At home, Lady Ferry's vagaries were carelessly spoken of, and often
smiled at; but I gained the idea that they disguised the truth, and
were afraid of my being frightened. She often talked about persons who
had been dead a very long time,--familiar characters in history, and,
though cousin Agnes had said that she used to be fond of reading, it
seemed to me that Madam might have known these men and women after
all.

Once a middle-aged gentleman, an acquaintance of cousin Matthew's,
came to pass a day and night at the ferry, and something happened then
which seemed wonderful to me. It was early in the evening after tea,
and we were in the parlor; from my seat by cousin Agnes I could look
out into the garden, and presently, with the gathering darkness, came
Lady Ferry, silent as a shadow herself, to walk to and fro on the
flagstones. The windows were all open, and the guest had a clear, loud
voice, and pleasant, hearty laugh; and, as he talked earnestly with
cousin Matthew, I noticed that Lady Ferry stood still, as if she were
listening. Then I was attracted by some story which was being told,
and forgot her, but afterward turned with a start, feeling that there
was some one watching; and, to my astonishment, Madam had come to the
long window by which one went out to the garden. She stood there a
moment, looking puzzled and wild; then she smiled, and, entering,
walked in most stately fashion down the long room, toward the
gentlemen, before whom she courtesied with great elegance, while the
stranger stopped speaking, and looked at her with amazement, as he
rose, and returned her greeting.

"My dear Captain Jack McAllister!" said she; "what a surprise! and are
you not home soon from your voyage? This is indeed a pleasure." And
Lady Ferry seated herself, motioning to him to take the chair beside
her. She looked younger than I had ever seen her; a bright color came
into her cheeks; and she talked so gayly, in such a different manner
from her usual mournful gentleness. She must have been a beautiful
woman; indeed she was that still.

"And did the good ship Starlight make a prosperous voyage? and had you
many perils?--do you bring much news to us from the Spanish Main? We
have missed you sadly at the assemblies; but there must be a dance in
your honor. And your wife; is she not overjoyed at the sight of you? I
think you have grown old and sedate since you went away. You do not
look the gay sailor, or seem so light-hearted."

"I do not understand you, madam," said the stranger. "I am certainly
John McAllister; but I am no captain, neither have I been at sea. Good
God! is it my grandfather whom you confuse me with?" cried he. "He was
Jack McAllister, and was lost at sea more than seventy years ago,
while my own father was a baby. I am told that I am wonderfully like
his portrait; but he was a younger man than I when he died. This is
some masquerade."

Lady Ferry looked at him intently, but the light in her face was fast
fading out. "Lost at sea,--lost at sea, were you, Jack McAllister,
seventy years ago? I know nothing of years; one of my days is like
another, and they are gray days, they creep away and hide, and
sometimes one comes back to mock me. I have lived a thousand years; do
you know it? Lost at sea--captain of the ship Starlight? Whom did you
say?--Jack McAllister, yes, I knew him well--pardon me; good-evening;"
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