Miss Prince of Dunport

"Miss Prince of Dunport" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming novella that explores themes of social class, individualism, and community through the story of a spirited young woman named Miss Prince. Set in the quaint coastal town of Dunport, the narrative unfolds as Miss Prince, an unconventional and independent woman, navigates her place within the expectations of society while forging her own identity. Jewett's writing vividly captures the landscape and character of New England, highlighting the contrast between the traditions of the past and the aspirations of the present. The novella is a gentle yet poignant commentary on the roles of women and the complexities of human relationships in a small town.

• Short story

								
While all these years were passing, Miss Anna Prince the elder was
living quietly in Dunport, and she had changed so little that her
friends frequently complimented her upon such continued youthfulness.
She had by no means forgotten the two greatest among the many losses
and sorrows of her life, but the first sharp pain of them was long
since over with. The lover from whom she had parted for the sake of a
petty misunderstanding had married afterward and died early; but he
had left a son of whom Miss Prince was very proud and fond; and she
had given him the place in her heart which should have belonged to her
own niece. When she thought of the other trial, she believed herself,
still, more sinned against than sinning, and gave herself frequent
assurances that it had been impossible to act otherwise at the time of
her brother's death and his wife's strange behavior afterward. And she
had persuaded her conscience to be quiet, until at last, with the
ideal of a suspicious, uncongenial, disagreeable group of rustics in
her mind, she thought it was well ordered by Heaven that she had been
spared any closer intercourse.

Miss Prince was a proud and stately woman of the old New England type:
more colonial than American perhaps, and quite provincial in her
traditions and prejudices. She was highly respected in her native
town, where she was a prominent figure in society. Nobody was more
generous and kind or public spirited, as her friends often said, and
young George Gerry was well-rewarded, though he gave her great
pleasure by his evident affection and interest. He liked to pay
frequent visits to his old friend, and to talk with her. She had been
a very attractive girl long ago, and the best of her charms had not
faded yet; the young man was always welcomed warmly, and had more than
once been helped in his projects. His mother was a feeble woman, who
took little interest in anything outside her own doors; and he liked
himself better as he sat in Miss Prince's parlor than anywhere else.
We are always fond of the society of our best selves, and though he
was popular with the rest of his townspeople, he somehow could not
help trying always to be especially agreeable to Miss Prince.

Although she was apparently free from regrets, and very well satisfied
with life, even her best friends did not know how lonely her life had
seemed to her, or how sadly hurt she had been by the shame and sorrow
of her only brother's marriage. The thought of his child and of the
impossibility of taking her to her heart and home had been like a
nightmare at first, and yet Miss Prince lacked courage to break down
the barriers, and to at least know the worst. She kept the two ideas
of the actual niece and the ideal one whom she might have loved so
much distinct and separate in her mind, and was divided between a
longing to see the girl and a fierce dread of her sudden appearance.
She had forbidden any allusion to the subject years and years before,
and so had prevented herself from hearing good news as well as bad;
though she had always been careful that the small yearly remittance
should be promptly sent, and was impatient to receive the formal
acknowledgment of it, which she instantly took pains to destroy. She
sometimes in these days thought about making her will; there was no
hurry about it, but it would be only fair to provide for her nearest
of kin, while she was always certain that she should not let all her
money and the old house with its handsome furnishings go into such
unworthy hands. It was a very hard question to settle, and she thought
of it as little as possible, and was sure there was nothing to prevent
her living a great many years yet. She loved her old home dearly, and
was even proud of it, and had always taken great care of the details
of its government. She never had been foolish enough to make away with
her handsome mahogany furniture, and to replace it with cheaper and
less comfortable chairs and tables, as many of her neighbors had done,
and had taken an obstinate satisfaction all through the years when it
seemed quite out of date, in insisting upon the polishing of the fine
wood and the many brass handles, and of late she had been reaping a
reward for her constancy. It had been a marvel to certain progressive
people that a person of her comfortable estate should be willing to
reflect that there was not a marble-topped table in her house, until
it slowly dawned upon them at last that she was mistress of the finest
house in town. Outwardly, it was painted white and stood close upon
the street, with a few steep front steps coming abruptly down into the
middle of the narrow sidewalk; its interior was spacious and very
imposing, not only for the time it was built in the last century, but
for any other time. Miss Prince's ancestors had belonged to some of
the most distinguished among the colonial families, which fact she
neither appeared to remember nor consented to forget; and, as often
happened in the seaport towns of New England, there had been one or
two men in every generation who had followed the sea. Her own father
had been among the number, and the closets of the old house were well
provided with rare china and fine old English crockery that would
drive an enthusiastic collector to distraction. The carved woodwork of
the railings and wainscotings and cornices had been devised by
ingenious and patient craftsmen, and the same portraits and old
engravings hung upon the walls that had been there when its mistress
could first remember. She had always been so well suited with her home
that she had never desired to change it in any particular. Her maids
were well drilled to their duties, and Priscilla, who was chief of the
staff, had been in that dignified position for many years. If Miss
Prince's grandmother could return to Dunport from another world, she
would hardly believe that she had left her earthly home for a day, it
presented so nearly the same appearance.

But however conscientiously the effort had been made to keep up the
old reputation for hospitality, it had somehow been a failure, and
Miss Prince had given fewer entertainments every year. Long ago, while
she was still a young woman, she had begun to wear a certain quaint
and elderly manner, which might have come from association with such
antiquated household gods and a desire to match well with her beloved
surroundings. A great many of her early friends had died, and she was
not the sort of person who can easily form new ties of intimate
friendship. She was very loyal to those who were still left, and, as
has been said, her interest in George Gerry, who was his father's
namesake and likeness, was a very great pleasure to her. Some persons
liked to whisper together now and then about the mysterious niece, who
was never mentioned otherwise. But though curiosity had led to a
partial knowledge of our heroine's not unfavorable aspect and
circumstances, nobody ever dared to give such information to the
person who should have been most interested.

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