The Queen's Twin

"The Queen's Twin" is a novella by Sarah Orne Jewett that explores the interactions and relationships of small-town life in late 19th-century New England. The story centers around a young girl named Miranda, who observes the complexities of adult relationships, particularly between her mother and the titular character, the "Queen's Twin"—a spirited and unconventional woman named Mrs. Kelsey. Through their interactions, Jewett delves into themes of friendship, loneliness, and the societal expectations placed on women. The narrative is infused with rich regional detail and highlights the nuances of human connection in a close-knit community.

• Short story

								
I.

The coast of Maine was in former years brought so near to foreign
shores by its busy fleet of ships that among the older men and women
one still finds a surprising proportion of travelers.  Each
seaward-stretching headland with its high-set houses, each island of a
single farm, has sent its spies to view many a Land of Eshcol; one may
see plain, contented old faces at the windows, whose eyes have looked
at far-away ports and known the splendors of the Eastern world.  They
shame the easy voyager of the North Atlantic and the Mediterranean;
they have rounded the Cape of Good Hope and braved the angry seas of
Cape Horn in small wooden ships; they have brought up their hardy boys
and girls on narrow decks; they were among the last of the Northmen's
children to go adventuring to unknown shores.  More than this one
cannot give to a young State for its enlightenment; the sea captains
and the captains' wives of Maine knew something of the wide world, and
never mistook their native parishes for the whole instead of a part
thereof; they knew not only Thomaston and Castine and Portland, but
London and Bristol and Bordeaux, and the strange-mannered harbors of
the China Sea.

One September day, when I was nearly at the end of a summer spent in a
village called Dunnet Landing, on the Maine coast, my friend Mrs. Todd,
in whose house I lived, came home from a long, solitary stroll in the
wild pastures, with an eager look as if she were just starting on a
hopeful quest instead of returning.  She brought a little basket with
blackberries enough for supper, and held it towards me so that I could
see that there were also some late and surprising raspberries sprinkled
on top, but she made no comment upon her wayfaring.  I could tell
plainly that she had something very important to say.

"You have n't brought home a leaf of anything," I ventured to this
practiced herb-gatherer.  "You were saying yesterday that the witch
hazel might be in bloom."

"I dare say, dear," she answered in a lofty manner; "I ain't goin' to
say it was n't; I ain't much concerned either way 'bout the facts o'
witch hazel.  Truth is, I 've been off visitin'; there's an old Indian
footpath leadin' over towards the Back Shore through the great heron
swamp that anybody can't travel over all summer.  You have to seize
your time some day just now, while the low ground 's summer-dried as it
is to-day, and before the fall rains set in.  I never thought of it
till I was out o' sight o' home, and I says to myself, 'To-day 's the
day, certain!' and stepped along smart as I could.  Yes, I 've been
visitin'.  I did get into one spot that was wet underfoot before I
noticed; you wait till I get me a pair o' dry woolen stockings, in case
of cold, and I 'll come an' tell ye."

Mrs. Todd disappeared.  I could see that something had deeply
interested her.  She might have fallen in with either the sea-serpent
or the lost tribes of Israel, such was her air of mystery and
satisfaction.  She had been away since just before mid-morning, and as
I sat waiting by my window I saw the last red glow of autumn sunshine
flare along the gray rocks of the shore and leave them cold again, and
touch the far sails of some coast-wise schooners so that they stood
like golden houses on the sea.

I was left to wonder longer than I liked.  Mrs. Todd was making an
evening fire and putting things in train for supper; presently she
returned, still looking warm and cheerful after her long walk.

"There 's a beautiful view from a hill over where I 've been," she told
me; "yes, there 's a beautiful prospect of land and sea.  You would n't
discern the hill from any distance, but 't is the pretty situation of
it that counts.  I sat there a long spell, and I did wish for you.  No,
I did n't know a word about goin' when I set out this morning" (as if I
had openly reproached her!); "I only felt one o' them travelin' fits
comin' on, an' I ketched up my little basket; I didn't know but I might
turn and come back time for dinner.  I thought it wise to set out your
luncheon for you in case I did n't.  Hope you had all you wanted; yes,
I hope you had enough."

"Oh, yes, indeed," said I.  My landlady was always peculiarly bountiful
in her supplies when she left me to fare for myself, as if she made a
sort of peace-offering or affectionate apology.

"You know that hill with the old house right on top, over beyond the
heron swamp?  You 'll excuse me for explainin'," Mrs. Todd began, "but
you ain't so apt to strike inland as you be to go right along shore.
You know that hill; there 's a path leadin' right over to it that you
have to look sharp to find nowadays; it belonged to the up-country
Indians when they had to make a carry to the landing here to get to the
out' islands.  I 've heard the old folks say that there used to be a
place across a ledge where they 'd worn a deep track with their
moccasin feet, but I never could find it.  'T is so overgrown in some
places that you keep losin' the path in the bushes and findin' it as
you can; but it runs pretty straight considerin' the lay o' the land,
and I keep my eye on the sun and the moss that grows one side o' the
tree trunks.  Some brook's been choked up and the swamp's bigger than
it used to be.  Yes; I did get in deep enough, one place!"

I showed the solicitude that I felt.  Mrs. Todd was no longer young,
and in spite of her strong, great frame and spirited behavior, I knew
that certain ills were apt to seize upon her, and would end some day by
leaving her lame and ailing.

"Don't you go to worryin' about me," she insisted, "settin' still's the
only way the Evil One 'll ever get the upper hand o' me.  Keep me
movin' enough, an' I 'm twenty year old summer an' winter both.  I
don't know why 't is, but I 've never happened to mention the one I 've
been to see.  I don't know why I never happened to speak the name of
Abby Martin, for I often give her a thought, but 't is a dreadful
out-o'-the-way place where she lives, and I haven't seen her myself for
three or four years.  She's a real good interesting woman, and we 're
well acquainted; she 's nigher mother's age than mine, but she 's very
young feeling.  She made me a nice cup o' tea, and I don't know but I
should have stopped all night if I could have got word to you not to
worry."

Then there was a serious silence before Mrs. Todd spoke again to make a
formal announcement.

"She is the Queen's Twin," and Mrs. Todd looked steadily to see how I
might bear the great surprise.

"The Queen's Twin?" I repeated.

"Yes, she 's come to feel a real interest in the Queen, and anybody can
see how natural 't is.  They were born the very same day, and you would
be astonished to see what a number o' other things have corresponded.
She was speaking o' some o' the facts to me to-day, an' you 'd think
she 'd never done nothing but read history.  I see how earnest she was

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