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Whensheopenedhereyesinthemorningitwasbecauseayounghousemaidhadcomeintoherroomtolightthefireandwaskneelingonthehearth-rugrakingoutthecindersnoisily.
Marylayandwatchedherforafewmomentsandthenbegantolookabouttheroom.
Shehadneverseenaroomatalllikeitandthoughtitcuriousandgloomy.
Thewallswerecoveredwithtapestrywithaforestsceneembroideredonit.
Therewerefantasticallydressedpeopleunderthetreesandinthedistancetherewasaglimpseoftheturretsofacastle.
Therewerehuntersandhorsesanddogsandladies.
Maryfeltasifshewereintheforestwiththem.
Outofadeepwindowshecouldseeagreatclimbingstretchoflandwhichseemedtohavenotreesonit,andtolookratherlikeanendless,dull,purplishsea.
“Whatisthat?”shesaid,pointingoutofthewindow.
Martha,theyounghousemaid,whohadjustrisentoherfeet,lookedandpointedalso.“Thatthere?”shesaid.
“Yes.”
“That’sth’moor,”withagood-naturedgrin.“Doestha’likeit?”
“No,”answeredMary.“Ihateit.”
“That’sbecausetha’rtnotusedtoit,”Marthasaid,goingbacktoherhearth.“Tha’thinksit’stoobigan’barenow.Buttha’willlikeit.”
“Doyou?”inquiredMary.
“Aye,thatIdo,”answeredMartha,cheerfullypolishingawayatthegrate.“Ijustloveit.It’snonebare.
It’scoveredwi’growin’thingsassmellssweet.
It’sfairlovelyinspringan’summerwhenth’gorsean’brooman’heather’sinflower.
Itsmellso’honeyan’there’ssuchaloto’freshair—an’th’skylookssohighan’th’beesan’skylarksmakessuchanicenoisehummin’an’singin’.Eh!
Iwouldn’tliveawayfromth’moorforanythin’.”
Marylistenedtoherwithagrave,puzzledexpression.
ThenativeservantsshehadbeenusedtoinIndiawerenotintheleastlikethis.
Theywereobsequiousandservileanddidnotpresumetotalktotheirmastersasiftheyweretheirequals.
Theymadesalaamsandcalledthem“protectorofthepoor”andnamesofthatsort.
Indianservantswerecommandedtodothings,notasked.
Itwasnotthecustomtosay“please”and“thankyou”andMaryhadalwaysslappedherAyahinthefacewhenshewasangry.
Shewonderedalittlewhatthisgirlwoulddoifoneslappedherintheface.
Shewasaround,rosy,good-natured-lookingcreature,butshehadasturdywaywhichmadeMistressMarywonderifshemightnotevenslapback—ifthepersonwhoslappedherwasonlyalittlegirl.
“Youareastrangeservant,”shesaidfromherpillows,ratherhaughtily.
Marthasatuponherheels,withherblacking-brushinherhand,andlaughed,withoutseemingtheleastoutoftemper.
“Eh!Iknowthat,”shesaid.
“IftherewasagrandMissusatMisselthwaiteIshouldneverhavebeenevenoneofth’underhouse-maids.
ImighthavebeenlettobescullerymaidbutI’dneverhavebeenletupstairs.
I’mtoocommonan’ItalktoomuchYorkshire.
Butthisisafunnyhouseforallit’ssogrand.
Seemslikethere’sneitherMasternorMistressexceptMr.Pitcheran’Mrs.Medlock.
Mr.Craven,hewon’tbetroubledaboutanythin’whenhe’shere,an’he’snearlyalwaysaway.
Mrs.Medlockgavemeth’placeouto’kindness.
ShetoldmeshecouldneverhavedoneitifMisselthwaitehadbeenlikeotherbighouses.”
“Areyougoingtobemyservant?”Maryasked,stillinherimperiouslittleIndianway.
Marthabegantorubhergrateagain.
“I’mMrs.Medlock’sservant,”shesaidstoutly.“An’she’sMr.Craven’s—butI’mtodothehousemaid’sworkupherean’waitonyouabit.Butyouwon’tneedmuchwaitin’on.”
“Whoisgoingtodressme?”demandedMary.
Marthasatuponherheelsagainandstared.ShespokeinbroadYorkshireinheramazement.
“Canna’tha’dressthysen!”shesaid.
“Whatdoyoumean?Idon’tunderstandyourlanguage,”saidMary.
“Eh!Iforgot,”Marthasaid.“Mrs.MedlocktoldmeI’dhavetobecarefuloryouwouldn’tknowwhatIwassayin’.Imeancan’tyouputonyourownclothes?”
“No,”answeredMary,quiteindignantly.“Ineverdidinmylife.MyAyahdressedme,ofcourse.”
“Well,”saidMartha,evidentlynotintheleastawarethatshewasimpudent,“it’stimetha’shouldlearn.Tha’cannotbeginyounger.
It’lldotheegoodtowaitonthysenabit.
Mymotheralwayssaidshecouldn’tseewhygrandpeople’schildrendidn’tturnoutfairfools—whatwithnursesan’bein’washedan’dressedan’tookouttowalkasiftheywaspuppies!”
“ItisdifferentinIndia,”saidMistressMarydisdainfully.Shecouldscarcelystandthis.
ButMarthawasnotatallcrushed.
“Eh!Icanseeit’sdifferent,”sheansweredalmostsympathetically.
“Idaresayit’sbecausethere’ssuchaloto’blacksthereinsteado’respectablewhitepeople.
WhenIheardyouwascomin’fromIndiaIthoughtyouwasablacktoo.”
Marysatupinbedfurious.
“What!”shesaid.“What!YouthoughtIwasanative.You—youdaughterofapig!”
Marthastaredandlookedhot.
“Whoareyoucallin’names?”shesaid.“Youneedn’tbesovexed.
That’snotth’wayforayoungladytotalk.I’venothin’againstth’blacks.
Whenyoureadabout‘emintractsthey’realwaysveryreligious.
Youalwaysreadasablack’samanan’abrother.
I’veneverseenablackan’IwasfairpleasedtothinkIwasgoin’toseeoneclose.
WhenIcomeintolightyourfirethismornin’Icrep’uptoyourbedan’pulledth’coverbackcarefultolookatyou.
An’thereyouwas,”disappointedly,“nomoreblackthanme—forallyou’resoyeller.”
Marydidnoteventrytocontrolherrageandhumiliation.“YouthoughtIwasanative!Youdared!Youdon’tknowanythingaboutnatives!
Theyarenotpeople—they’reservantswhomustsalaamtoyou.YouknownothingaboutIndia.Youknownothingaboutanything!”
Shewasinsucharageandfeltsohelplessbeforethegirl’ssimplestare,andsomehowshesuddenlyfeltsohorriblylonelyandfarawayfromeverythingsheunderstoodandwhichunderstoodher,thatshethrewherselffacedownwardonthepillowsandburstintopassionatesobbing.
Shesobbedsounrestrainedlythatgood-naturedYorkshireMarthawasalittlefrightenedandquitesorryforher.Shewenttothebedandbentoverher.
“Eh!youmustn’tcrylikethatthere!”shebegged.“Youmustn’tforsure.Ididn’tknowyou’dbevexed.
Idon’tknowanythin’aboutanythin’—justlikeyousaid.Ibegyourpardon,Miss.Dostopcryin’.”
TherewassomethingcomfortingandreallyfriendlyinherqueerYorkshirespeechandsturdywaywhichhadagoodeffectonMary.Shegraduallyceasedcryingandbecamequiet.Marthalookedrelieved.
“It’stimefortheetogetupnow,”shesaid.
“Mrs.MedlocksaidIwastocarrytha’breakfastan’teaan’dinnerintoth’roomnexttothis.It’sbeenmadeintoanurseryforthee.
I’llhelptheeonwiththyclothesiftha’llgetouto’bed.
Ifth’buttonsareatth’backtha’cannotbuttonthemuptha’self.”
WhenMaryatlastdecidedtogetup,theclothesMarthatookfromthewardrobewerenottheonesshehadwornwhenshearrivedthenightbeforewithMrs.Medlock.
“Thosearenotmine,”shesaid.“Mineareblack.”
Shelookedthethickwhitewoolcoatanddressover,andaddedwithcoolapproval:
“Thosearenicerthanmine.”
“Theseareth’onestha’mustputon,”Marthaanswered.
“Mr.CravenorderedMrs.Medlocktoget‘eminLondon.
Hesaid‘Iwon’thaveachilddressedinblackwanderin’aboutlikealostsoul,’hesaid.‘It’dmaketheplacesadderthanitis.Putcoloronher.’Mothershesaidsheknewwhathemeant.Motheralwaysknowswhatabodymeans.Shedoesn’tholdwithblackhersel’.”
“Ihateblackthings,”saidMary.
Thedressingprocesswasonewhichtaughtthembothsomething.
Marthahad“buttonedup”herlittlesistersandbrothersbutshehadneverseenachildwhostoodstillandwaitedforanotherpersontodothingsforherasifshehadneitherhandsnorfeetofherown.
“Whydoesn’ttha’putontha’ownshoes?”shesaidwhenMaryquietlyheldoutherfoot.
“MyAyahdidit,”answeredMary,staring.“Itwasthecustom.”
Shesaidthatveryoften—“Itwasthecustom.”
Thenativeservantswerealwayssayingit.
Ifonetoldthemtodoathingtheirancestorshadnotdoneforathousandyearstheygazedatonemildlyandsaid,“Itisnotthecustom”andoneknewthatwastheendofthematter.
IthadnotbeenthecustomthatMistressMaryshoulddoanythingbutstandandallowherselftobedressedlikeadoll,butbeforeshewasreadyforbreakfastshebegantosuspectthatherlifeatMisselthwaiteManorwouldendbyteachingheranumberofthingsquitenewtoher—thingssuchasputtingonherownshoesandstockings,andpickingupthingssheletfall.
IfMarthahadbeenawell-trainedfineyounglady’smaidshewouldhavebeenmoresubservientandrespectfulandwouldhaveknownthatitwasherbusinesstobrushhair,andbuttonboots,andpickthingsupandlaythemaway.
Shewas,however,onlyanuntrainedYorkshirerusticwhohadbeenbroughtupinamoorlandcottagewithaswarmoflittlebrothersandsisterswhohadneverdreamedofdoinganythingbutwaitingonthemselvesandontheyoungeroneswhowereeitherbabiesinarmsorjustlearningtototteraboutandtumbleoverthings.
IfMaryLennoxhadbeenachildwhowasreadytobeamusedshewouldperhapshavelaughedatMartha’sreadinesstotalk,butMaryonlylistenedtohercoldlyandwonderedatherfreedomofmanner.
Atfirstshewasnotatallinterested,butgradually,asthegirlrattledoninhergood-tempered,homelyway,Marybegantonoticewhatshewassaying.
“Eh!youshouldsee‘emall,”shesaid.
“There’stwelveofusan’myfatheronlygetssixteenshillingaweek.
Icantellyoumymother’sputtoittogetporridgefor‘emall.
Theytumbleaboutonth’mooran’playtherealldayan’mothersaysth’airofth’moorfattens‘em.
Shesaysshebelievestheyeatth’grasssameasth’wildponiesdo.
OurDickon,he’stwelveyearsoldandhe’sgotayoungponyhecallshisown.”
“Wheredidhegetit?”askedMary.
“Hefounditonth’moorwithitsmotherwhenitwasalittleonean’hebegantomakefriendswithitan’giveitbitso’breadan’pluckyounggrassforit.
Anditgottolikehimsoitfollowshimaboutan’itletshimgetonitsback.
Dickon’sakindladan’animalslikeshim.”
Maryhadneverpossessedananimalpetofherownandhadalwaysthoughtsheshouldlikeone.
SoshebegantofeelaslightinterestinDickon,andasshehadneverbeforebeeninterestedinanyonebutherself,itwasthedawningofahealthysentiment.
Whenshewentintotheroomwhichhadbeenmadeintoanurseryforher,shefoundthatitwasratherliketheoneshehadsleptin.
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