Martha's Lady Page #2

"Martha's Lady" is a novella by Sarah Orne Jewett that captures the intricacies of rural life in New England through the lens of human relationships and social dynamics. The story revolves around Martha, a strong-willed and independent woman, as she navigates her role within her community and her family. Jewett's vivid portrayal of the characters and settings reflects the themes of feminism, autonomy, and the bonds between nature and personal identity. With her signature style, Jewett delves into the emotional and psychological landscapes of her characters, offering readers a poignant exploration of love, duty, and self-discovery in a changing world.

• Short story

								

cousin would consent to laugh no more.  "There are all those ripe
cherries on the top branches.  I can climb as high as he, but I can't
reach far enough from the last branch that will bear me.  The minister
is so long and thin"--

"I don't know what Mr. Crofton would have thought of you; he is a very
serious young man," said cousin Harriet, still ashamed of her laughter.
"Martha will get the cherries for you, or one of the men.  I should not
like to have Mr. Crofton think you were frivolous, a young lady of your
opportunities"--but Helena had escaped through the hall and out at the
garden door at the mention of Martha's name.  Miss Harriet Pyne sighed
anxiously, and then smiled, in spite of her deep convictions, as she
shut the blinds and tried to make the house look solemn again.

The front door might be shut, but the garden door at the other end of
the broad hall was wide open upon the large sunshiny garden, where the
last of the red and white peonies and the golden lilies, and the first
of the tall blue larkspurs lent their colors in generous fashion.  The
straight box borders were all in fresh and shining green of their new
leaves, and there was a fragrance of the old garden's inmost life and
soul blowing from the honeysuckle blossoms on a long trellis.  It was
now late in the afternoon, and the sun was low behind great apple-trees
at the garden's end, which threw their shadows over the short turf of
the bleaching-green.  The cherry-trees stood at one side in full
sunshine, and Miss Harriet, who presently came to the garden steps to
watch like a hen at the water's edge, saw her cousin's pretty figure in
its white dress of India muslin hurrying across the grass.  She was
accompanied by the tall, ungainly shape of Martha the new maid, who,
dull and indifferent to every one else, showed a surprising willingness
and allegiance to the young guest.

"Martha ought to be in the dining-room, already, slow as she is; it
wants but half an hour of tea-time," said Miss Harriet, as she turned
and went into the shaded house.  It was Martha's duty to wait at table,
and there had been many trying scenes and defeated efforts toward her
education.  Martha was certainly very clumsy, and she seemed the
clumsier because she had replaced her aunt, a most skillful person, who
had but lately married a thriving farm and its prosperous owner.  It
must be confessed that Miss Harriet was a most bewildering instructor,
and that her pupil's brain was easily confused and prone to blunders.
The coming of Helena had been somewhat dreaded by reason of this
incompetent service, but the guest took no notice of frowns or futile
gestures at the first tea-table, except to establish friendly relations
with Martha on her own account by a reassuring smile.  They were about
the same age, and next morning, before cousin Harriet came down, Helena
showed by a word and a quick touch the right way to do something that
had gone wrong and been impossible to understand the night before.  A
moment later the anxious mistress came in without suspicion, but
Martha's eyes were as affectionate as a dog's, and there was a new look
of hopefulness on her face; this dreaded guest was a friend after all,
and not a foe come from proud Boston to confound her ignorance and
patient efforts.

The two young creatures, mistress and maid, were hurrying across the
bleaching-green.

"I can't reach the ripest cherries," explained Helena politely, "and I
think that Miss Pyne ought to send some to the minister.  He has just
made us a call.  Why Martha, you have n't been crying again!"

"Yes 'm," said Martha sadly.  "Miss Pyne always loves to send something
to the minister," she acknowledged with interest, as if she did not
wish to be asked to explain these latest tears.

"We 'll arrange some of the best cherries in a pretty dish.  I 'll show
you how, and you shall carry them over to the parsonage after tea,"
said Helena cheerfully, and Martha accepted the embassy with pleasure.
Life was beginning to hold moments of something like delight in the
last few days.

"You 'll spoil your pretty dress, Miss Helena," Martha gave shy
warning, and Miss Helena stood back and held up her skirts with unusual
care while the country girl, in her heavy blue checked gingham, began
to climb the cherry-tree like a boy.

Down came the scarlet fruit like bright rain into the green grass.

"Break some nice twigs with the cherries and leaves together; oh, you
're a duck, Martha!" and Martha, flushed with delight, and looking far
more like a thin and solemn blue heron, came rustling down to earth
again, and gathered the spoils into her clean apron.

That night at tea, during her hand-maiden's temporary absence, Miss
Harriet announced, as if by way of apology, that she thought Martha was
beginning to understand something about her work.  "Her aunt was a
treasure, she never had to be told anything twice; but Martha has been
as clumsy as a calf," said the precise mistress of the house.  "I have
been afraid sometimes that I never could teach her anything.  I was
quite ashamed to have you come just now, and find me so unprepared to
entertain a visitor."

"Oh, Martha will learn fast enough because she cares so much," said the
visitor eagerly.  "I think she is a dear good girl.  I do hope that she
will never go away.  I think she does things better every day, cousin
Harriet," added Helena pleadingly, with all her kind young heart.  The
china-closet door was open a little way, and Martha heard every word.
From that moment, she not only knew what love was like, but she knew
love's dear ambitions.  To have come from a stony hill-farm and a bare
small wooden house, was like a cave-dweller's coming to make a
permanent home in an art museum, such had seemed the elaborateness and
elegance of Miss Pyne's fashion of life; and Martha's simple brain was
slow enough in its processes and recognitions.  But with this
sympathetic ally and defender, this exquisite Miss Helena who believed
in her, all difficulties appeared to vanish.

Later that evening, no longer homesick or hopeless, Martha returned
from her polite errand to the minister, and stood with a sort of
triumph before the two ladies, who were sitting in the front doorway,
as if they were waiting for visitors, Helena still in her white muslin
and red ribbons, and Miss Harriet in a thin black silk.  Being happily
self-forgetful in the greatness of the moment, Martha's manners were
perfect, and she looked for once almost pretty and quite as young as
she was.

"The minister came to the door himself, and returned his thanks.  He
said that cherries were always his favorite fruit, and he was much
obliged to both Miss Pyne and Miss Vernon.  He kept me waiting a few
minutes, while he got this book ready to send to you, Miss Helena."
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes