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The Queen’s Twin
by
“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 high-flown, 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 autumn-like 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. “‘T was 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 did n’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, “‘t was 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, ‘t is a bond between us.”