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The Queen's Twin and Other Stories By: Sarah Orne Jewett (1849-1909) |
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AND OTHER STORIES
BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge
M DCCC XCIX
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
To SUSAN BURLEY CABOT
CONTENTS
THE QUEEN'S TWIN
A DUNNET SHEPHERDESS
WHERE'S NORA
BOLD WORDS AT THE BRIDGE
MARTHA'S LADY
THE COON DOG
AUNT CYNTHY DALLETT
THE NIGHT BEFORE THANKSGIVING
THE QUEEN'S TWIN. 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... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Short stories |
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