Martha's Lady Page #6

"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

								

have everything as nice as we can; I must see Hannah at once.  Do you
remember my cousin Helena who has lived abroad so long?  Miss Helena
Vernon,--the Honorable Mrs. Dysart, she is now."

"Yes, I remember her," answered Martha, turning a little pale.

"I knew that she was in this country, and I had written to ask her to
come for a long visit," continued Miss Harriet, who did not often
explain things, even to Martha, though she was always conscientious
about the kind messages that were sent back by grateful guests.  "She
telegraphs that she means to anticipate her visit by a few days and
come to me at once.  The heat is beginning in town, I suppose.  I
daresay, having been a foreigner so long, she does not mind traveling
on Sunday.  Do you think Hannah will be prepared?  We must have tea a
little later."

"Yes, Miss Harriet," said Martha.  She wondered that she could speak as
usual, there was such a ringing in her ears.  "I shall have time to
pick some fresh strawberries; Miss Helena is so fond of our
strawberries."

"Why, I had forgotten," said Miss Pyne, a little puzzled by something
quite unusual in Martha's face.  "We must expect to find Mrs. Dysart a
good deal changed, Martha; it is a great many years since she was here;
I have not seen her since her wedding, and she has had a great deal of
trouble, poor girl.  You had better open the parlor chamber, and make
it ready before you go down."

"It is all ready," said Martha.  "I can carry some of those little
sweet-brier roses upstairs before she comes."

"Yes, you are always thoughtful," said Miss Pyne, with unwonted feeling.

Martha did not answer.  She glanced at the telegram wistfully.  She had
never really suspected before that Miss Pyne knew nothing of the love
that had been in her heart all these years; it was half a pain and half
a golden joy to keep such a secret; she could hardly bear this moment
of surprise.

Presently the news gave wings to her willing feet.  When Hannah, the
cook, who never had known Miss Helena, went to the parlor an hour later
on some errand to her old mistress, she discovered that this stranger
guest must be a very important person.  She had never seen the
tea-table look exactly as it did that night, and in the parlor itself
there were fresh blossoming boughs in the old East India jars, and
lilies in the paneled hall, and flowers everywhere, as if there were
some high festivity.

Miss Pyne sat by the window watching, in her best dress, looking
stately and calm; she seldom went out now, and it was almost time for
the carriage.  Martha was just coming in from the garden with the
strawberries, and with more flowers in her apron.  It was a bright cool
evening in June, the golden robins sang in the elms, and the sun was
going down behind the apple-trees at the foot of the garden.  The
beautiful old house stood wide open to the long-expected guest.

"I think that I shall go down to the gate," said Miss Pyne, looking at
Martha for approval, and Martha nodded and they went together slowly
down the broad front walk.

There was a sound of horses and wheels on the roadside turf: Martha
could not see at first; she stood back inside the gate behind the white
lilac-bushes as the carriage came.  Miss Pyne was there; she was
holding out both arms and taking a tired, bent little figure in black
to her heart.  "Oh, my Miss Helena is an old woman like me!" and Martha
gave a pitiful sob; she had never dreamed it would be like this; this
was the one thing she could not bear.

"Where are you, Martha?" called Miss Pyne.  "Martha will bring these
in; you have not forgotten my good Martha, Helena?"  Then Mrs. Dysart
looked up and smiled just as she used to smile in the old days.  The
young eyes were there still in the changed face, and Miss Helena had
come.

That night Martha waited in her lady's room just as she used, humble
and silent, and went through with the old unforgotten loving services.
The long years seemed like days.  At last she lingered a moment trying
to think of something else that might be done, then she was going
silently away, but Helena called her back.  She suddenly knew the whole
story and could hardly speak.

"Oh, my dear Martha!" she cried, "won't you kiss me good-night?  Oh,
Martha, have you remembered like this, all these long years!"
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