Presently I saw a low gray house standing on a grassy bank close to the
road. The door was at the side, facing us, and a tangle of snowberry
bushes and cinnamon roses grew to the level of the window-sills. On the
doorstep stood a bent-shouldered, little old woman; there was an air of
welcome and of unmistakable dignity about her.
“She sees us coming,” exclaimed Mrs. Todd in an excited whisper. “There,
I told her I might be over this way again if the weather held good, and
if I came I’d bring you. She said right off she’d take great pleasure in
havin’ a visit from you; I was surprised, she’s usually so retirin’.”
Even this reassurance did not quell a faint apprehension on our part;
there was something distinctly formal in the occasion, and one felt that
consciousness of inadequacy which is never easy for the humblest pride
to bear. On the way I had torn my dress in an unexpected encounter with
a little thornbush, and I could now imagine how it felt to be going to
Court and forgetting one’s feathers or her Court train.
The Queen’s Twin was oblivious of such trifles; she stood waiting with a
calm look until we came near enough to take her kind hand. She was a
beautiful old woman, with clear eyes and a lovely quietness and
genuineness of manner; there was not a trace of anything pretentious
about her, or highflown, as Mrs. Todd would say comprehensively. Beauty
in age is rare enough in women who have spent their lives in the hard
work of a farmhouse; but autumnlike and withered as this woman may have
looked, her features had kept, or rather gained, a great refinement. She
led us into her old kitchen and gave us seats, and took one of the
little straight-backed chairs herself and sat a short distance away, as
if she were giving audience to an ambassador. It seemed as if we should
all be standing; you could not help feeling that the habits of her life
were more ceremonious, but that for the moment she assumed the
simplicities of the occasion.
Mrs. Todd was always Mrs. Todd, too great and self-possessed a soul for
any occasion to ruffle. I admired her calmness, and presently the slow
current of neighborhood talk carried one easily along; we spoke of the
weather and the small adventures of the way, and then, as if I were
after all not a stranger, our hostess turned almost affectionately to
speak to me.
“The weather will be growing dark in London now. I expect that you’ve
been in London, dear?” she said.
“Oh, yes,” I answered. “Only last year.”
“It is a great many years since I was there, along in the forties,” said
Mrs. Martin. “’Twas the only voyage I ever made; most of my neighbors
have been great travelers. My brother was master of a vessel, and his
wife usually sailed with him; but that year she had a young child more
frail than the others, and she dreaded the care of it at sea. It
happened that my brother got a chance for my husband to go as
supercargo, being a good accountant, and came one day to urge him to
take it; he was very ill-disposed to the sea, but he had met with
losses, and I saw my own opportunity and persuaded them both to let me
go too. In those days they didn’t object to a woman’s being aboard to
wash and mend, the voyages were sometimes very long. And that was the
way I come to see the Queen.”
Mrs. Martin was looking straight in my eyes to see if I showed any
genuine interest in the most interesting person in the world.
“Oh, I am very glad you saw the Queen,” I hastened to say. “Mrs. Todd
has told me that you and she were born the very same day.”
“We were indeed, dear!” said Mrs. Martin, and she leaned back
comfortably and smiled as she had not smiled before. Mrs. Todd gave a
satisfied nod and glance, as if to say that things were going on as well
as possible in this anxious moment.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Martin again, drawing her chair a little nearer, “’twas
a very remarkable thing; we were born the same day, and at exactly the
same hour, after you allowed for all the difference in time. My father
figured it out sea-fashion. Her Royal Majesty and I opened our eyes upon
this world together; say what you may, ’tis a bond between us.”
Mrs. Todd assented with an air of triumph, and untied her hat-strings
and threw them back over her shoulders with a gallant air.
“And I married a man by the name of Albert, just the same as she did,
and all by chance, for I didn’t get the news that she had an Albert too
till a fortnight afterward; news was slower coming then than it is now.
My first baby was a girl, and I called her Victoria after my mate; but
the next one was a boy, and my husband wanted the right to name him, and
took his own name and his brother Edward’s, and pretty soon I saw in the
paper that the little Prince o’ Wales had been christened just the same.
After that I made excuse to wait till I knew what she’d named her
children. I didn’t want to break the chain, so I had an Alfred, and my
darling Alice that I lost long before she lost hers, and there I
stopped. If I’d only had a dear daughter to stay at home with me, same’s
her youngest one, I should have been so thankful! But if only one of us
could have a little Beatrice, I’m glad ’twas the Queen; we’ve both seen
trouble, but she’s had the most care.”
I asked Mrs. Martin if she lived alone all the year, and was told that
she did except for a visit now and then from one of her grandchildren,
“the only one that really likes to come an’ stay quiet ’long o’ grandma.
She always says quick as she’s through her schoolin’ she’s goin’ to live
with me all the time, but she’s very pretty an’ has taking ways,” said
Mrs. Martin, looking both proud and wistful, “so I can tell nothing at
all about it! Yes, I’ve been alone most o’ the time since my Albert was
taken away, and that’s a great many years; he had a long time o’ failing
and sickness first.” (Mrs. Todd’s foot gave an impatient scuff on the
floor.) “An’ I’ve always lived right here. I ain’t like the Queen’s
Majesty, for this is the only palace I’ve got,” said the dear old thing,
smiling again. “I’m glad of it too, I don’t like changing about, an’ our
stations in life are set very different. I don’t require what the Queen
does, but sometimes I’ve thought ’twas left to me to do the plain things
she don’t have time for. I expect she’s a beautiful housekeeper, nobody
couldn’t have done better in her high place, and she’s been as good a
mother as she’s been a queen.”
“I guess she has, Abby,” agreed Mrs. Todd instantly. “How was it you
happened to get such a good look at her? I meant to ask you again when I
was here t’other day.”
“Our ship was layin’ in the Thames, right there above Wapping. We was
dischargin’ cargo, and under orders to clear as quick as we could for
Bordeaux to take on an excellent freight o’ French goods,” explained
Mrs. Martin eagerly. “I heard that the Queen was goin’ to a great review
of her army, and would drive out o’ her Buckin’ham Palace about ten
o’clock in the mornin’, and I run aft to Albert, my husband, and brother
Horace where they was standin’ together by the hatchway, and told ’em
they must one of ’em take me. They laughed, I was in such a hurry, and
said they couldn’t go; and I found they meant it and got sort of
impatient when I began to talk, and I was ’most broken-hearted; ’twas
all the reason I had for makin’ that hard voyage. Albert couldn’t help
often reproachin’ me, for he did so resent the sea, an’ I’d known how
’twould be before we sailed; but I’d minded nothing all the way till
then, and I just crep’ back to my cabin an’ begun to cry. They was
disappointed about their ship’s cook, an’ I’d cooked for fo’c’s’le an’
cabin myself all the way over; ’twas dreadful hard work, specially in
rough weather; we’d had head winds an’ a six weeks’ voyage. They’d acted
sort of ashamed o’ me when I pled so to go ashore, an’ that hurt my
feelin’s most of all. But Albert come below pretty soon; I’d never given
way so in my life, an’ he begun to act frightened, and treated me gentle
just as he did when we was goin’ to be married, an’ when I got over
sobbin’ he went on deck and saw Horace an’ talked it over what they
could do; they really had their duty to the vessel, and couldn’t be
spared that day. Horace was real good when he understood everything, and
he come an’ told me I’d more than worked my passage an’ was goin’ to do
just as I liked now we was in port. He’d engaged a cook, too, that was
comin’ aboard that mornin’, and he was goin’ to send the ship’s
carpenter with me—a nice fellow from up Thomaston way; he’d gone to put
on his ashore clothes as quick’s he could. So then I got ready, and we
started off in the small boat and rowed up river. I was afraid we were
too late, but the tide was setting up very strong, and we landed an’
left the boat to a keeper, and I run all the way up those great streets
and across a park. ’Twas a great day, with sights o’ folks everywhere,
but ’twas just as if they was nothin’ but wax images to me. I kep’
askin’ my way an’ runnin’ on, with the carpenter comin’ after as best he
could, and just as I worked to the front o’ the crowd by the palace, the
gates was flung open and out she came; all prancin’ horses and shinin’
gold, and in a beautiful carriage there she sat; ’twas a moment o’
heaven to me. I saw her plain, and she looked right at me so pleasant
and happy, just as if she knew there was somethin’ different between us
from other folks.”
There was a moment when the Queen’s Twin could not go on and neither of
her listeners could ask a question.
“Prince Albert was sitting right beside her in the carriage,” she
continued. “Oh, he was a beautiful man! Yes, dear, I saw ’em both
together just as I see you now, and then she was gone out o’ sight in
another minute, and the common crowd was all spread over the place
pushin’ an’ cheerin’. ’Twas some kind o’ holiday, an’ the carpenter and
I got separated, an’ then I found him again after I didn’t think I
should, an’ he was all for makin’ a day of it, and goin’ to show me all
the sights; he’d been in London before, but I didn’t want nothin’ else,
an’ we went back through the streets down to the waterside an’ took the
boat. I remember I mended an old coat o’ my Albert’s as good as I could,
sittin’ on the quarter-deck in the sun all that afternoon, and ’twas all
as if I was livin’ in a lovely dream. I don’t know how to explain it,
but there hasn’t been no friend I’ve felt so near to me ever since.”
One could not say much—only listen. Mrs. Todd put in a discerning
question now and then, and Mrs. Martin’s eyes shone brighter and
brighter as she talked. What a lovely gift of imagination and true
affection was in this fond old heart! I looked about the plain New
England kitchen, with its wood-smoked walls and homely braided rugs on
the worn floor, and all its simple furnishings. The loud-ticking clock
seemed to encourage us to speak; at the other side of the room was an
early newspaper portrait of Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain and
Ireland. On a shelf below were some flowers in a little glass dish, as
if they were put before a shrine.
“If I could have had more to read, I should have known ’most everything
about her,” said Mrs. Martin wistfully. “I’ve made the most of what I
did have, and thought it over and over till it came clear. I sometimes
seem to have her all my own, as if we’d lived right together. I’ve often
walked out into the woods alone and told her what my troubles was, and
it always seemed as if she told me ’twas all right, an’ we must have
patience. I’ve got her beautiful book about the Highlands; ’twas dear
Mis’ Todd here that found out about her printing it and got a copy for
me, and it’s been a treasure to my heart, just as if ’twas written right
to me. I always read it Sundays now, for my Sunday treat. Before that I
used to have to imagine a good deal, but when I come to read her book, I
knew what I expected was all true. We do think alike about so many
things,” said the Queen’s Twin with affectionate certainty. “You see,
there is something between us, being born just at the some time; ’tis
what they call a birthright. She’s had great tasks put upon her, being
the Queen, an’ mine has been the humble lot; but she’s done the best she
could, nobody can say to the contrary, and there’s something between us;
she’s been the great lesson I’ve had to live by. She’s been everything
to me. An’ when she had her Jubilee, oh, how my heart was with her!”
“There, ’twouldn’t play the part in her life it has in mine,” said Mrs.
Martin generously, in answer to something one of her listeners had said.
“Sometimes I think, now she’s older, she might like to know about us.
When I think how few old friends anybody has left at our age, I suppose
it may be just the same with her as it is with me; perhaps she would
like to know how we came into life together. But I’ve had a great
advantage in seeing her, an’ I can always fancy her goin’ on, while she
don’t know nothin’ yet about me, except she may feel my love stayin’ her
heart sometimes an’ not know just where it comes from. An’ I dream about
our being together out in some pretty fields, young as ever we was, and
holdin’ hands as we walk along. I’d like to know if she ever has that
dream too. I used to have days when I made believe she did know, an’ was
comin’ to see me,” confessed the speaker shyly, with a little flush on
her cheeks; “and I’d plan what I could have nice for supper, and I
wasn’t goin’ to let anybody know she was here havin’ a good rest, except
I’d wish you, Almira Todd, or dear Mis’ Blackett would happen in, for
you’d know just how to talk with her. You see, she likes to be up in
Scotland, right out in the wild country, better than she does anywhere
else.”
“I’d really love to take her out to see mother at Green Island,” said
Mrs. Todd with a sudden impulse.
“Oh, yes! I should love to have you,” exclaimed Mrs. Martin, and then
she began to speak in a lower tone. “One day I got thinkin’ so about my
dear Queen,” she said, “an’ livin’ so in my thoughts, that I went to
work an’ got all ready for her, just as if she was really comin’. I
never told this to a livin’ soul before, but I feel you’ll understand. I
put my best fine sheets and blankets I spun an’ wove myself on the bed,
and I picked some pretty flowers and put ’em all round the house, an’ I
worked as hard an’ happy as I could all day, and had as nice a supper
ready as I could get, sort of telling myself a story all the time. She
was comin’ an’ I was goin’ to see her again, an’ I kep’ it up until
nightfall; an’ when I see the dark an’ it come to me I was all alone,
the dream left me, an’ I sat down on the doorstep an’ felt all foolish
an’ tired. An’, if you’ll believe it, I heard steps comin’, an’ an old
cousin o’ mine come wanderin’ along, one I was apt to be shy of. She
wasn’t all there, as folks used to say, but harmless enough and a kind
of poor old talking body. And I went right to meet her when I first
heard her call, ’stead o’ hidin’ as I sometimes did, an’ she come in
dreadful willin’, an’ we sat down to supper together; ’twas a supper I
should have had no heart to eat alone.”
“I don’t believe she ever had such a splendid time in her life as she
did then. I heard her tell all about it afterwards,” exclaimed Mrs. Todd
compassionately. “There, now I hear all this it seems just as if the
Queen might have known and couldn’t come herself, so she sent that poor
old creatur’ that was always in need!”
Mrs. Martin looked timidly at Mrs. Todd and then at me. “’Twas childish
o’ me to go an’ get supper,” she confessed.
“I guess you wa’n’t the first one to do that,” said Mrs. Todd. “No, I
guess you wa’n’t the first one who’s got supper that way, Abby,” and
then for a moment she could say no more.
Mrs. Todd and Mrs. Martin had moved their chairs a little so that they
faced each other, and I, at one side, could see them both.
“No, you never told me o’ that before, Abby,” said Mrs. Todd gently.
“Don’t it show that for folks that have any fancy in ’em, such beautiful
dreams is the real part o’ life? But to most folks the common things
that happens outside ’em is all in all.”
Mrs. Martin did not appear to understand at first, strange to say, when
the secret of her heart was put into words; then a glow of pleasure and
comprehension shone upon her face. “Why, I believe you’re right,
Almira!” she said, and turned to me.
“Wouldn’t you like to look at my pictures of the Queen?” she asked, and
we rose and went into the best room.