Marcella's Reward Page #2

"Marcella's Reward" is a captivating short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that follows the journey of the titular character, Marcella, a young woman determined to pursue her dreams against societal expectations. Set in the picturesque backdrop of early 20th-century rural Canada, the narrative explores themes of love, ambition, and the quest for personal fulfillment. As Marcella navigates the challenges of her ambitions and the complexities of relationships, she learns valuable lessons about resilience and the true nature of reward. Montgomery's signature rich prose and deep character development shine through, making this story a poignant reflection on the balance between personal aspirations and the realities of life.

• Short story

								

woman wore a lace collar the price of which would have kept Patty in
the country for a year.

She was Mrs. Liddell--Marcella knew her by sight--and she was in a
very bad temper because she had been kept waiting. For the next half
hour she badgered and worried Marcella to the point of distraction.
Nothing suited her. Pile after pile, box after box, of shirtwaists
did Marcella take down for her, only to have them flung aside with
sarcastic remarks. Mrs. Liddell seemed to hold Marcella responsible
for the lack of waists that suited her; her tongue grew sharper and
sharper and her comments more trying. Then she mislaid her purse, and
was disagreeable about that until it turned up.

Marcella shut her lips so tightly that they turned white to keep back
the impatient retort that rose momentarily to her lips. The insolence
of some customers was always trying to the sensitive, high-spirited
girl, but today it seemed unbearable. Her head throbbed fiercely with
the pain of the ever-increasing ache, and--what was the lady on her
right saying to a friend?

"Yes, she had typhoid, you know--a very bad form. She rallied from it,
but she was so exhausted that she couldn't really recover, and the
doctor said--"

"Really," interrupted Mrs. Liddell's sharp voice, "may I ask you to
attend to me, if you please? No doubt gossip may be very interesting
to you, but I am accustomed to having a clerk pay some small
attention to my requirements. If you cannot attend to your business, I
shall go to the floor walker and ask him to direct me to somebody who
can. The laziness and disobligingness of the girls in this store is
really getting beyond endurance."

A passionate answer was on the point of Marcella's tongue. All her
bitterness and suffering and resentment flashed into her face and
eyes. For one moment she was determined to speak out, to repay Mrs.
Liddell's insolence in kind. A retort was ready to her hand. Everyone
knew that Mrs. Liddell, before her marriage to a wealthy man, had been
a working girl. What could be easier than to say contemptuously: "You
should be a judge of a clerk's courtesy and ability, madam. You were a
shop girl yourself once?"

But if she said it, what would follow? Prompt and instant dismissal.
And Patty? The thought of the little sister quelled the storm in
Marcella's soul. For Patty's sake she must control her temper--and she
did. With an effort that left her white and tremulous she crushed back
the hot words and said quietly: "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Liddell. I
did not mean to be inattentive. Let me show you some of our new
lingerie waists, I think you will like them."

But Mrs. Liddell did not like the new lingerie waists which Marcella
brought to her in her trembling hands. For another half hour she
examined and found fault and sneered. Then she swept away with the
scornful remark that she didn't see a thing there that was fit to
wear, and she would go to Markwell Bros. and see if they had anything
worth looking at.

When she had gone, Marcella leaned against the counter, pale and
exhausted. She must have a breathing spell. Oh, how her head ached!
How hot and stifling and horrible everything was! She longed for the
country herself. Oh, if she and Patty could only go away to some place
where there were green clover meadows and cool breezes and great hills
where the air was sweet and pure!

During all this time a middle-aged woman had been sitting on a stool
beside the bargain counter. When a clerk asked her if she wished to be
waited on, she said, "No, I'm just waiting here for a friend who
promised to meet me."

She was tall and gaunt and grey haired. She had square jaws and cold
grey eyes and an aggressive nose, but there was something attractive
in her plain face, a mingling of common sense and kindliness. She
watched Marcella and Mrs. Liddell closely and lost nothing of all that
was said and done on both sides. Now and then she smiled grimly and
nodded.

When Mrs. Liddell had gone, she rose and leaned over the counter.
Marcella opened her burning eyes and pulled herself wearily together.

"What can I do for you?" she said.

"Nothing. I ain't looking for to have anything done for me. You need
to have something done for you, I guess, by the looks of you. You seem
dead beat out. Aren't you awful tired? I've been listening to that
woman jawing you till I felt like rising up and giving her a large and
wholesome piece of my mind. I don't know how you kept your patience
with her, but I can tell you I admired you for it, and I made up my
mind I'd tell you so."

The kindness and sympathy in her tone broke Marcella down. Tears
rushed to her eyes. She bowed her head on her hands and said
sobbingly, "Oh, I am tired! But it's not that. I'm--I'm in such
trouble."

"I knew you were," said the other, with a nod of her head. "I could
tell that right off by your face. Do you know what I said to myself? I
said, 'That girl has got somebody at home awful sick.' That's what I
said. Was I right?"

"Yes, indeed you were," said Marcella.

"I knew it"--another triumphant nod. "Now, you just tell me all about
it. It'll do you good to talk it over with somebody. Here, I'll
pretend I'm looking at shirtwaists, so that floor walker won't be
coming down on you, and I'll be as hard to please as that other woman
was, so's you can take your time. Who's sick--and what's the matter?"

Marcella told the whole story, choking back her sobs and forcing
herself to speak calmly, having the fear of the floor walker before
her eyes.

"And I can't afford to send Patty to the country--I can't--and I
know she won't get better if she doesn't go," she concluded.

"Dear, dear, but that's too bad! Something must be done. Let me
see--let me put on my thinking cap. What is your name?"

"Marcella Langley."

The older woman dropped the lingerie waist she was pretending to
examine and stared at Marcella.

"You don't say! Look here, what was your mother's name before she was
married?"

"Mary Carvell."

"Well, I have heard of coincidences, but this beats all! Mary
Carvell! Well, did you ever hear your mother speak of a girl friend of
hers called Josephine Draper?"

"I should think I did! You don't mean--"

"I do mean it. I'm Josephine Draper. Your mother and I went to
school together, and we were as much as sisters to each other until
she got married. Then she went away, and after a few years I lost
trace of her. I didn't even know she was dead. Poor Mary! Well, my
duty is plain--that's one comfort--my duty and my pleasure, too. Your
sister is coming out to Dalesboro to stay with me. Yes, and you are
too, for the whole summer. You needn't say you're not, because you
are. I've said so. There's room at Fir Cottage for you both. Yes,
Fir Cottage--I guess you've heard your mother speak of that. There's
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes