Martha Preston, by Elizabeth Gaskell This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org First published in Sartons Union magazine, number 6, 1850 Within the last few years I have been twice at the lakes. There is a road leading to Grasmere on the least known side of Loughrig, which presents a singular number of striking and dissimilar views. First of all, on departing from the highway to Langdale, you climb a little hill.  Oval deep and clear as her mirror should be. Then you pass between two Westmill and farmhouses, which shut in the road as it were, and make a little home-like scene, with their gables and stacks of chimneys and wooden galleries and numerous outbuildings festooned with ivy and climbing roses, which latter straggled through the loose stone wall and sent the air, already so fragrance with the odours of the wayside herbs. Pass these homesteads, and you seem to have left all human habitation behind. The very fences disappear, as if the moorland and bog were not worth enclosing, until you come to a little glen, a ravine, a gill, where linger yet one or two of the ancient trees of Loughrig Forest. And, as if they had suggested the idea of planting, in the lower and more open and genial part of this gill, there are many of the more hardy trees of a much later date, say fifty years old. But they have spread out their branches and grow unchecked and unpruned, so they form quite a wood of perhaps half a mile long on the bleak mountainside, through which the soft grassy road passes on the way to Red Bank, where first you saw grassmere lying calm and still fathoms below you, and reflecting the blue heavens and purple mountaintops in its glassy surface. But come back with me to the shady wood on the Loughrig side. We passed a stone cottage there, in the more open part, where your attention was called off from more immediate objects, by the sunny peep into the valley between Loughrig and High Close. You were so absorbed by this glimpse into the bright fertile little dale on the left, with its meadow green and mountain grey, that you did not notice the grey old cottage just up above the road, in the wood on the right, and yet it was very picturesque. Truly a nest in the green hold, with yet enough of sun to gild the diamond-pained windows, all through the long afternoon of a summer's day, and high enough to command a view through that opening in the trees for many a mile. It was large and roomy, though too irregular and low, and if we had peeped over the stone wall, we should have seen a trim little garden, with pleasant flower-boarders under the low windows. This cottage always struck me as being in a beautiful situation, sheltered, but not too much shut in for health, with a bright lookout into a distant scene of much variety, but a few years ago it gave me more a feeling of desolation and hermit-like isolation from the world than it does now. Now there are signs of childhood about, and children's voices blend with the songs of the wood-birds. A child's garden may be detected in this strange little mixture of white pebbles and fading dandelions and daises. And while quite enough of house-league and stone-crop and moss and traveller's joy are retained about the roof and walls to give it that rich variety of colour you see, yet much has been cleared away that formerly gave it the appearance of a dwelling, which was shrinking back into the green bosom of Mother Earth. The current bushes are pruned down into fruitfulness and the long rose-branches do not trail on the ground any more. Now listen to me while I tell you what I heard of the inhabitants of that cottage during the last thirty years. Sit down on this fell-tree, and while the noonday hum of busy insects in the wood mingles with the hum of the bees in yonder hives, I will weave together what I have learnt of Martha Preston. This house, and perhaps forty acres of land, some rocky and sterile, hardly fit even for feeding sheep, some mere bog, and as such only good to furnish peats for fuel, and some rich meadow-land, formed the hereditary possessions of the Prestons, Westmillan statesmen. For two hundred years, certainly, this nook of land had been theirs, and for nearly as long a time had that house been their habitation to judge from the initials and dates carved up and down on the old oaken screen, the meal and clap-bread chest, the dresser and settle. They were probably made on the spot, out of the remains of some of the old forest trees, had had been polished by many a housewife before Jane Preston set her daughter Martha to rub them as her morning's task. Thomas and Jane Preston had two children, Martha and John. The sister was the elder by eight years, and felt like a mother to the little boy, whom she had nursed almost more than his real mother. For Jane had to go to market to see after the cows and the dairy, to look after the sheep on the fell, and was a busy, bustling, managing woman. The grey mare, some people said. If she had had time, she would have been fond of her children, but as it was, on weekdays, they were rather in her way. John Preston was reserved and quiet, a man of few words, but sensible, conscientious, and thoroughly upright. He never talked about his duty. People did not in those days, but it might be seen that it was the rule of his life, and as such, it impressed itself upon his daughter's heart. I do not know if you have ever noticed it, but it strikes me that a very active mother does not always make a very active daughter. She does things too cleverly and eagerly herself to have patience with the awkward and slow efforts of a learner. At least, such was the case with Jane Preston. Martha was too longing going to market with the butter. She would rather go herself. Martha did not know how to get the afterings from the cow, and the best milk was lost. So instead of showing her how to do it, she did it herself. Martha made the clappbread too thick, the butter with the water not pressed out. She folded up the fleeces in the wrong way, so that they had to be done over again. The end of it was that Jane Preston did all the work in her own quick, sharp, clever manner, and Martha was left to nurse her little heart's darling and roam about the wood and dream and think. When she was about fifteen, her mother died, quickly, sharply, as she had lived.  But when she was gone, the husband and daughter were often worried and annoyed, missed sorely the head and heart, which were always full of thoughts for others, never for herself. Johnny missed her the least of the three. Martha was his all-in-all, but Martha had now to try and take her mother's place in the farm and had to see after sheep and cows and go to markets as well as she could. Johnny was sent to Grasmere School. So they went on for several years, till Martha grew up to be a fine young woman, quiet, steady and calm in her manners, but with a warm, sensitive heart and a character full of imagination. Heart and character were attracted, as hearts and characters sometimes are, by her very opposite, a certain William Hawkshaw, who was engaged as a monthsman, helper for a month in the busy sheep shearing and hay-time, by her father. He was one of the many sons of a statesman on the other side of Ambleside. His father possessed more land than John Preston, but his large family made his means more limited, and several of his sons went out as farm servants. Old Hawkshaw tried to impress upon his sons most prudent and careful habits, but for a time his precepts lay dormant and unproductive.  It was the most natural thing in the world that Martha, living in a green solitude with her father and brother, of like retired on social habits, should be powerfully attracted by the young man, who, as the custom is, came to lodge and board with them for the month, and thus was thrown into intimate domestic communion with him. They worked together in the hay, they ran after the true and sheep, and as Johnny once innocently observed, Martha had quite learned to laugh out loud since Will Hawkshaw had come. For before that her smile had been as noiseless as a sunbeam, but now her laugh gushed into music. The father saw all with calm approval. It was natural young men and young women should take to each other. Will came of respectable stock, and if he had not much, why Martha would have a good piece of money in Kendall Bank. The land went to Johnny, of course, so there was no let-or-hindrance to the growing attachment. Will was, in his way, attracted by Martha. He was pleased to see his influence over her, and to perceive that he could stir the depths of that soul so still and calm in appearance. It must have been soon after that summer month, in 1818, that they were engaged, and Martha's heart was full of happiness. There was no definite plan for the future. Will was to labour as farm servant for a few years, to save, and by and by perhaps some farm might be to let within their means. Such was the most they looked forward to. Martha shrunk from too much looking into the future. For now she was secure of Will's affection. She began to reproach herself for wishing to leave her father and Johnny, and the natural desire for a home began to be considered as a crime by her tender conscience, as she felt how necessary she was to their happiness. In this way, two or three years passed by, Martha cherishing the idea of Will with the most faithful constancy, and hardly daring to show him the exceeding joy there was in her heart when he came on his occasional visits. He, going from farm service to farm service, a favourite everywhere for his manly abilities and cheerful social temper, and what faults and temptations he had, known principally to himself alone, as hitherto they had borne no fruits whereby men should recognise them. The next event was the calm sinking into death of John Preston, the elder. He told Martha, a few minutes before his death, what a comforter engagement was to him in his dying hour, and above all things charged her to be Martha and mother to Johnny, now just sixteen, to see after his worldly affairs, but above all to bear his soul up with hers so that heaven where the household should meet once more. So for Johnny's sake, she calmed herself in her orphanhood, and for his sake she ruled her daily life until such time as she should leave him for a home of her own. Her share of her father's property was about eighty pounds. A bad year or two for stock had made it less than was one time expected. Will seemed a little surprised at this diminution, and for his sake she wished it had been more. The moraine among the cattle must have sprung from some diseased state of the air, for human beings began to be affected. A low kind of fever, from the account I heard a sort of typhoid fever, I imagine, became prevalent, and to Martha's sickening terror, he caught it. When that danger came, it seemed as if her sisterly love swallowed up all other loves. In his helplessness and rambling unconsciousness, he was once more the little baby she had carried about, with the yearning love of a young mother. Kind neighbours, neighbours in the Samaritan sense, came from Isdale and Skelleth to help her to nurse him for the twenty days of raging illness. The doctor from Ambleside was sent for in distrust of the nearer Grasmere apothecary, and he recovered. But oh, woe, as he recovered, his wandering lost senses were not restored. The neighbours sighed and shook their heads, and looked mysteriously, long before the idea of this sorrow, dark and life to Martha. But when he was strong enough to walk out, and when the stupor remained still upon his poor brain, and the bright blaze of the woodfire called out a wild laugh of delight, at which he looked round, affrighted at the noise himself had made, when he came cowering up to his sister for protection against the phantoms of his own conjuring up.  The doctor confirmed this with sad gravity. That night Martha never went to bed, but sat alone, mutely gazing at the great embers among which the sparks ran to and fro. There was no doubt in her mind as to her duty, no perplexed struggling of that kind, but before her eyes his life, from his baby-head upwards, was displayed as in a panorama, and that memory of the past and thought of the present made the tears roll unheeded down her cheeks, and drop unwiped upon her lap. The very mice ran about after a while as if she had not been there, so still emotionless what she threw the night of inward agony. When it was light enough to write she took pen and paper, and desired Will Hawkshaw to come to her. She could not express thoughts easily in this unwanted manner, so confined herself to this one request, reserving the reason till he should come. The next Sunday brought him as she had expected, and his quick eye understood the trouble before she, with her sobbing voice could put it into words. Then the tears sprang up. The old worldly maxim sown by his father, covered and strangled the life out of the wheat. If Johnny was shut up in an asylum, he and Martha might have the land and marry at once. Thought of their marriage had been in Martha's mind too, and all bashfulness forgotten in the sense of her exceeding sorrow, she proposed it to him with a calm manner, only as her words struck upon her own ear, and maidenly blush covered her face. If you come here, I can do all I need to do, and tend the poor lad too. The doctor gave but little hope, but God is powerful for many things, and I will never cease praying. But Will had other thoughts. The covetousness of his heart was as a male-clad man, and he believed his power over Martha was enough to persuade her to his views. But he was mistaken. She saw a great gulf between their souls that day, a greater deeper gulf than that between her and the poor innocent who causelessly went in and out with mutterings and laughter, witless of the misery of which he was even then the occasion. Though Martha shrank and shuddered as she first began to understand Will, she hoped for many hours that it might be a mistake, a scheme, that he was only joking, at a strange, sad, inappropriate time to be sure, and the sun set that October day while they were still discussing the matter. I believe Will had no idea but that she would yield if he was relentless and firm enough. He had made many conquests among the farmer's daughters, and had a great idea of his own power, so when they parted that evening, he had to go to Patardale to his work the next day, he thought he was only leaving her for a time to digest his words, and expected to be recalled, even with penitence on her part, before the next Sunday. He went so far as to talk of his prospects to one or two companions, but the letter from Martha never came. He had boasted of his power, and his power was defied. Then anger took the place of the love he had had and at the best of times his way of loving had been very different from Martha's.  She braced herself up to her life and said that with God's help, she would go through it. So she did. Something of her mother's character came out in the energy with which she devoted herself to the management of the farm. She got help at busy times, and always the advice of her neighbours was at her service, for though they said little, they felt deep respect for her. Johnny too could help a little and like to be employed by her. He was as docile as a child in general, but sometimes old people have told me. He was restless and wild and irritable and passes through the wood in dead of night heard his cries and Martha's voice soothing him with singing hymns. A voice that never stayed for all her anguish and anxiety, but went clear and bell-like up to God. That singing of hers, that homely loving music, used to quiet him, but for all that she might have been doing and bearing through the night, she was abroad as early as ever in the mornings and used to say to sympathising inquirers that Johnny was much the same. They respected her on complaining reserve too much to tell what they had heard and the poor creature had received such a terrible fright from the proposal made by Will of sending her brother to an asylum or as she phrased it, a madhouse that I believe she would have born anything rather than have made revelations which should give any ground for such a proceeding. What she endured exactly can therefore never be known on earth. Once I was told a farmer, rising more than usually be times to look after a horse that was ill, saw in the summer's dawn Martha walking to and fro in a little paddock with hasty agitated steps wringing her hands, and then he thought he caught words of passionate prayer, but he did not go up to her and passed on unobserved by the wood road near the cottage. As he saw the open door his mind suggested that perhaps there might be some reason for her violent emotion in some sudden illness of the poor idiot, so he went in softly and saw Johnny lying asleep on the settle with flushed face and disordered hair as if he had been in great irritation, but he breathed as if in deep sleep, probably from exhaustion, and was tenderly covered up with Martha's Sunday cloak. So the man went on his way and contented himself with sending his wife in the course of the day, ostensibly on some unimportant errand, but in reality to see how the sister and brother were going on. Johnny then seemed pretty well, but Martha looked haggard and worn, but to all inquiries respecting her brother, she answered so curtly and unwillingly that no real information was to be gained. All this time Will Hawkshaw had not been idle in his way of getting through the world. The boast he had uttered in the early days of his estrangement of his unlimited power over Martha cut off the vain man from any chance of a retreat from his first avowed determination, if indeed he ever wished to change his mind. It's independently of the difference of love arising from the difference of character. He was a man thrown abroad in the shifting vivid scenes of life. She was a woman dwelling alone with ample leisure during the long long nights and solitary days to nurse up his remembrance, or rather the remembrance of what she had fancied him to be. So it was not without a shock the depth of which was, I suppose, known only to God who searched at all hearts that about three years after their last interview, she heard of his intended marriage to the only daughter of a wealthy statesman in Troutbeck. As far as I could make out from the account vagus to time, yet graphic as to particular has given me, it must have been close upon this period that the farmer saw her abroad in the fields in such deep distress after one of Johnny's restless nights. Of course, the marriage soon followed the public announcement of such intention, and henceforward Martha's life presented no outward variety for many years. Young children grew up to man's estate, all was unchanged to her. Girls and boys became old married people. Her days and nights had the only variety of Johnny's being well or ill. At last a change came, the solemn change of life into death. After a day or two of violent illness, Johnny went to his long rest. Martha thought that in the speechless exhaustion which immediately preceded death, she saw sense in his eyes, and a composed intelligence in his face, and certain it is, those poor eyes followed her moving form as long as life gave them power to recognise her. After the funeral was over, the friendly neighbours came in more frequently than before, when their visits had been so unacceptable. Still the nearest were far away and their lives were busy, and many a many a day, and many a week must have passed to Martha in solitude. She was asked again and again to the gayities of the neighbourhood, to the christenings at Christmas, the favourite time in that country, the mountain sheep-shearings. She was urged to accompany neighbours to the grand dissipation of sales and auction, but all this she steadily refused. Though she was more than a middle aged woman now, her heart still beat, her face still flushed at the thought that at some of these gatherings she might meet the lover of her youth. She had never been able to displace her ideal by the thought of the man he really was, and as she acknowledged him to herself to be. A neighbour took her produce to market, and made what little money. Two or three kindly friends helped her at busy times, and were consulted as to the disposal of her accumulating money, for Martha was growing very rich in the simple estimation of the dalesman, a circumstance about which she scarcely thought herself. Money had but little power to heal the deep sharp sorrows of her heart. She was growing old alone, with a most loving nature. She had none to love, as she could have done, had not permitted her to have husband and children. And sometimes in the deep midnight she cried aloud to heaven in her exceeding grief that she had never heard a child's murmuring voice call her mother. The late autumn, with falling leaves and piping winds, and long rainy nights, harmonised with her life, which like the year had had a bright calm spring in the days now long past when she strayed about the woods with little Johnny. She saw herself and him happy wanderers. She watched the two pictures in her mind's eye, as if they were separate from herself, and so they were, by long years of sorrow and disappointment. One winter's night, when evening had shut in unusually early, owing to the black snow clouds that had hung like night close around the horizon, she sat looking dreamily into the fire. She saw in the blaze the two front of her imagination, roaming to and fro. Her old sheepdog fly lay at her feet. The cows were foddered for the night. The sheep were penned up in the outhouse close by. Fly had been with her while these duties were being done three hours ago. What made the old dog suddenly restless then?  Good dog, said she, anxious to resume her dreaming. But Fly would not lie down, and she could no longer dream. Somebody, something, must be abroad in this heavy snowstorm. She said afterwards to a neighbour she felt as if she must go up to the fell, and sure enough it was God's guiding which led her out. With the foresight common to the dales' people, who know what mountain storms are, she took under her cloak a little file of gin, which had long been stored up for any emergency. She set out with Fly. The snow fell so fast she was almost blinded at first, and the drifts sleigh thick where the wind blew them. But she had long confidence in Fly, and he ran straight up the little steep path which led through the wood to the more open part of Loughrig fell.  When she emerged into the more open ground it even fell so thickly that she lost sight of Fly and stood bewildered until he should return to guide her. The wind had ceased for a time and the air was still and emotionless. Every bird and beast was in it sheltering home, and the quiet on those moors was almost awful. Suddenly a child's feeble, wailing, hopeless cry smote her ear, and in an instant she pressed on in the direction from whence it came. As she gained upon it, she heard Fly's loud howl for assistance, and that gave her more guidance, for she was sure he was by the lost wanderer. At last, panting and agitated she reached the spot where what seemed in that obscurity to be merely a black heap was fast becoming whitened by the ceaseless snow. It was a child half asleep in a fatal sleep which precedes death, but not yet unconscious to the pain of the excessive cold which was freezing up his lifeblood. For though he could not speak and reply to her anxious words, he moaned dreamily. Now came in the use for the gin. She wetted his lips. She poured a little down his throat. She raised him up, and past youth as she long had been, she yet found strength to carry him a little way down the hill. She stopped, overpowered, for a short time. Then again, with desperate effort she bore him onto the wood, whereas at any rate the cold was less piercing. Again she gave him a little gin, and now he was able to walk a few steps. And so with passionate prayers to God who looked down upon her that wild night she dragged him along to her cottage and laid him down within the warm influence of the fire. She threw herself on the ground in utter exhaustion for a minute or two.  Then presently he recovered and was able to tell his short story. Father had sent him up to the fells for a sheep that was missing, but their dog was not well broken into the woods and left him. And night and snow came on and he got wildered on the fells. But they had only lately come to live near Ridle, and he did not know the landmarks.  The answer was John Hawkshaw. Is your father's name William Hawkshaw? Did you ever live in Troutbeck? asked Martha as calmly as she could, for her heart gave a leap. A mist came before her eyes as she uttered the name once so familiar, but so long unspoken by her lips that the sound seemed strange and wild. Yes, it was Will Hawkshaw's child she had saved. She fed him and put him warm to bed, and placing the candle where the light fell on his face without awakening him, she sat down to watch him through the night. His mouth was very different from what Will's had been. That feature he must have inherited from his mother, and it almost seemed strange to her that she was not his mother. For the maternal breast, which is in every woman, yearned after him. She sent word at break of day by the nearest neighbours to his parents living three miles away. Then she returned to watch him once more. He slept so long and so soundly that when his mother came with all the speed of anxious love she found him only at breakfast, sitting like a little king at a round table covered with a clean course cloth, and feasting away on clappbread and sweet butter, that regular westmill and dainty composed of rum, butter and sugar, and made only for high days and holidays. Mrs. Hawkshaw, Bonnie and Bright, younger looking than her years, happy matron as she was, little dreamed that she saw a former rival in the worn, sad-looking woman who had saved her child's life. Martha's face hardly brightened as she listened to Mrs. Hawkshaw's overpowering gratitude.  She refused all the pressing invitations showered upon her by the wife of the lover of her youth. She only said, very earnestly, you will let the lad come and see me sometimes. To be sure, we'll all come. My master would have been here by now to thank you, but it's Ambleside cattle market and he never misses a market. Martha wondered if any other reason hindered him from coming on this very natural errand of fetching home his lost child. But she said nothing and when left alone that day she dreamed more than ever of the days of her youth. John Hawkshaw often came sent by his grateful mother, sent by his far-casting father who thought in his heart that possibly Martha might be induced to leave the land he had so early coveted to his son. But from whatever motive he came he was ever and always welcome and his own sweet nature harboured no selfish motives. He came as a child for the amusement and the variety of the thing but he came as a youth and as a man for the real love and respect he felt for his aunt for so she would have him call her. Such was the state of things when first I saw the cottage and heard the history. Martha had never cared for her wealth, had never realised the power it gave her. But all at once a bright light broke upon her of the happiness it might create when she learned from her boy a grown man he was how he loved a poor girl in Grasmere, a good daughter to her parents and a braidsitter but how they could not marry for many years for she had nothing and he was but one out of a large family. He looked forward to this long engagement with resigned regret and she said nothing at the time but she made a long inquiry about the girl all answers were satisfactory. She surprised her nephew when next he came with the statement of her property in the bank. She told him he should marry the girl and bring her to the old woodhouse as to her home and they should dwell with her and be to her as a son and a daughter. Now she holds the honoured place she nurses a little Martha on her knee while a Johnny for whom she puts up many an earnest prayer strays out with toddling steps and makes that childish garden you saw with many a crow of delight and call to Granny to come and look. There will not be a grave in Grasmere churchyard more decked with flowers more visited with respect regrets and tears and faithful trust that of Martha Preston when she dies. End of Martha Preston by Elizabeth Gaskell The Desserted Mansion by Elizabeth Gaskell This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org First published in Fraser's Magazine Volume 44 July 1851 A few years ago a picture appeared in the exhibition of the Royal Academy which peculiarly impressed by imagination. It represented an ancient ruinous dwelling surrounded by dilapidated gardens set in somber woods. The venerable trees the moat filled with nettle and rubbish the broken fences green stagnant waters the gable turreted many windowed mouldering mansion a perfect medley of chaotic architecture the visible silence the spirit of supreme desolation brooding over the precincts filled my mind with involuntary sadness while fancy conjured up strange wild tales of other days in connection with the scene. I could not shake off the belief that reality was portrayed on the canvas and writing an account of the various pictures to a friend who resided in the country I dwelt on this particular one and my singular impressions respecting it when I next received a letter from my friend she remarked how unaccountable my fancies were fancies which were however based on the foundation of truth she went on to say that reading my letter to Mrs. L an octogenarian in wonderful preservation that lady informed her of the locality of my deserted mansion and also of its history the picture being actually painted for Mrs. L's son and the tale attached to it to which my friend eventually gave me in the lady's own words was as follows 50 years ago the mansion of St. Elan's Wood was reckoned ancient but it was a healthful vigorous age interesting and picturesque then emerald turf lined the sides of the moat and blooming flowers clustered within its sloping shelter white drapery fluttered within the quaint lattice windows and delicate climbers festooned them without terraced walks and thick holy hedges were in trim order fountains sparkled in the sunshine and a blushing roses bent over and kissed the clear rejoicing waters 50 years ago joyous laughter resounded amid the greenwood glades and buoyant footsteps pressed the greensward for the master of St. Elan's had brought home a bride and friends and relatives hasten and thither to offer congratulations and to share the hospitalities of the festive season Lady St. Elan was a very young wife a soft-eyed timid creature her mother had died during her daughter's infancy and her father, an officer of high rank in the army, being abroad a lady whom we shall call Sabina by whom she had been educated accompanied her beloved pupil now Lady St. Elan to this new home the death of Lady St. Elan's father and the birth of a daughter eventually mingled rejoicing and mourning together while great anxiety was felt for the young mother whose recovery was extremely tedious the visits of eminent physicians who were sent from great distances evinced the fears which were still entertained even when the invalid roamed once more in the pleasant gardens and woods around alas it was not for the poor ladies bodily health they feared the hereditary mental malady of her family on the maternal side but which had slumbered for two generations again darkly shadowed forth its dread approaches slight indeed had been the warningers yet subtle the demonstrations of the deadly enemy but enough to alarm the watchful husband who was well acquainted with the facts but the alarm passed away the physicians came no more and apparent health and strength both mental and physical were fully restored to the patient while the sweet babe really deserved the epithets lavished on it by the delightful mother of the divinest baby in the world during the temporary absence of her husband on affairs of urgent business Lady St. Elan requested Sabina to share her chamber at night on the plea of timidity and loneliness this wish was cheerfully complied with and two or three days passed pleasantly away St. Elan was expected to return home on the following morning and when the friends retired to rest on the previous night Sabina withdrew the window curtains to gaze upon the glorious landscape which stretched far away all bathed in silver radiance and she soon fell into a tranquil slumber communing with holy thoughts and prayerful aspirations she was suddenly awakened by a curious kind of sound in the room accompanied by a half stifled jeering laugh she knew not how long sleep had lulled her in oblivion but when Sabina turned round to see from whence the sound proceeded imagine her horror and dismay as beholding Lady St. Elan standing near the door sharpening a large knife on her slipper looking wildly round now and then muttering and gybing not sharp enough yet not sharp enough yet she exclaimed intently pursuing her occupation Sabina felt instinctively that this was no practical joke she knew instinctively the dread reality by the maniac's eye by the tone of voice and she sprang from the bed darting towards the door it was locked Lady St. Elan looked muttering so you thought I was so silly did you but I double locked it and threw the key out of the window and perhaps you may spy it out in the moonshine you are so fond of admiring pointing to an open casement at an immense height from the ground for this apartment was at the summit of a turret commanding an extensive view chosen for that reason as well as for its seclusion and repose being so far distant from the rest of the household Sabina was not afflicted with weak nerves and as the full danger of her position flashed across her mind she remembered to have heard that the human eye possesses extraordinary power to quell and keep in abeyance all unruly passions thus terrifically displayed she was also aware that in a contest where mere bodily energy was concerned her powers must prove utterly inadequate and unavailing when brought into competition with the use of the unfortunate lady during a continuance of the paroxysm Sabina feigned a calmness which she was far from feeling at that trying moment and though her voice trembled yet she said cheerfully and with a careless air I think your knife will soon be sharp enough ladies and elan what do you want it for why do I want it for mimic the mad woman why what should I want it for well that is an odd fancy exclaimed Sabina endeavouring not to scream or faint but you have better sit down for the knife is not sharp enough for that job there, there's a chair now give me your attention while you sharpen and sharpen and I'll sit opposite to you for I have had such an extraordinary dream and I want you to listen to it the lady looked maliciously sly as much as to say you shall not cheat me if I do listen but she sat down and Sabina opposite to her who began pouring forth a farago of nonsense which she pretended to have dreamt ladies and elan had always been much addicted to perusing works of romantic fiction and this taste for the marvellous was probably the means of saving Sabina's life who during that long and awful night never flagged for one moment continuing her repetition of marvels in the Arabian night style the maniac sat perfectly still with the knife in one hand the slipper in the other and her large eyes intently fixed on the narrator oh those weary weary hours when at length repeated signals and knocks were heard at the chamber door as the morning sun arose Sabina had presence of mind not to notice them as her terrible companion did not do so but she continued her sing-song monotonous strain until the barrier was fairly burst open and Saint Elan himself who had just returned alarmed at the portentous murmurs within and accompanied by several domestics came to the rescue had Sabina moved or screamed for help or appeared to recognize the aid which was at hand ere it could have reached her the knife might have been sheathed the knife was a foreign one of quaint workmanship usually hanging up in Saint Elan's dressing room and the premeditation evinced in thus secreting it was a mystery not to be solved Sabina's hair which was as black as the raven's wing when she retired to rest on that fearful night had changed to the similitude of extreme age when they found her in the morning Lady Saint Elan never recovered this sudden and total overthrow of reason but died alas it was rumored by her own hand within two years afterwards the infant's heiress was entrusted to the guidance of her mother's friend and governess she became an orphan at an early age and on completing her 21st year was uncontrolled mistress of the fortune and estates of her ancestors but long ere that period arrived a serious question had arisen in Sabina's mind respecting the duty and expediency of informing Mary Saint Elan what her true position was and gently imparting the sad knowledge of that visitation overshadowing the destinies of her race it was true that in her individual case the catastrophe might be warded off while on the other hand there was lurking threatening danger but a high religious principle seemed to demand a sacrifice or self-immolation in order to prevent the possibility of a perpetuation of the direful malady Sabina felt assured that were her noble hearted pupil wants to learn the facts there would be no hesitation on her part in strictly adhering to the prescribed line of right it was a bitter task for Sabina to undertake but she did not shrink from performing it when peacefully away to a better world breathing the mansion house and the state of Saint Elan's wood to Sabina and her heirs in Sabina's estimation however this munificent gift was as the price of blood as but for her instrumentality the fatal knowledge would not have been imparted but for her the ancestral woods and pleasant home might have descended to children's children in the Saint Elan's line tainted indeed and doomed but now the race was extinct there were many persons who laughed at Sabina's sensitive feelings on this subject which they could not understand and even well-meaning pious folk thought that she carried her strict notions too far yet Sabina remained immovable nor would she ever consent that the wealth thus left should be enjoyed by her of hers thus the deserted mansion still remains unclaimed though it will not be long ere it is appropriated to the useful and beneficent purpose specified in Mary Saint Elan's will namely failing Sabina and her issue to be converted into a lunatic asylum a kind of lunatic arms house for decayed gentle women who with the requisite qualifications will here find refuge from the double storms of life assailing them poor souls both from within and without but what became of Sabina and what interest has your son in this picture asked my friend of old Mrs. L as that venerable lady concluded her narration for if none lived to claim the property why does it remain thus your justifiable curiosity shall be gratified my dear responded the kindly dame look at my hair it did not turn white from age I retired to rest one night with glossy braids black as the ravens wing and they found me in the morning as you now behold me yes it is even so and you no longer wonder that Sabina's son desired to possess this identical painting my pilgrimage is drawing towards its close protracted as it has been beyond the allotted age of man but according to the tenor of the aforenamed will the mansion under state of Saint Elan they now stand until I am no more while the accumulated funds will amply endow the excellent charity where my son less honorable or scrupulous he might of course claim the property on my decease but respect for his mother's memory with firm adherence to her principles will keep him with God's blessing from yielding to temptation he's not a rich man but with proud humility he may gaze on this memorial picture and hand it down to posterity with the traditionary law attached and may none of our descendants ever lament the use which will be made nor covers the possession of this deserted mansion end of the deserted mansion by Elizabeth Gaskell Bessie's Troubles at Home by Elizabeth Gaskell this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org first published in the Sunday School Penny Magazine January 1852 well mother I've got you a southport ticket said Bessie Lee as she burst into a room where a pale sick woman lay dressed on the outside of her bed aren't you glad as she as her mother moved on easily but did not speak yes dear I'm very thankful to you but your sudden coming in has made me heart flutter so I'm ready to choke poor Bessie's eyes filled with tears but it must be owned they were tears half of anger she had taken such pains ever since the doctor said that southport was the only thing for her mother to get her an order from some subscriber to the charity as she had rushed to her in the full glow of success and now her mother seemed more put out by the noise she had made on coming in then glad to receive the news she had brought Mrs. Lee took her hand and tried to speak but as she said she was almost choked with the palpitation at her heart you think it very silly in me dear to be so easily startled but it's not altogether silliness it is I'm so weak that every little noise gives me quite a fright I shall be better love please god when I come back from southport I'm so glad you've got the order for you've taken a great deal of pains about it Mrs. Lee sighed don't you want to go? asked Bessie rather sadly he always seems so sorrowful and anxious when we talk about it it's partly my being ailing that makes me anxious I know said Mrs. Lee but it seems as if so many things might happen while I was away Bessie was a kind hearted girl but rather headstrong and just now a little disappointed she forgot that her mother had had to struggle hard with many cares ever since she had been left a widow and that her illness now had made her nervous what nonsense mother what can happen I can take care of the house and the little ones and Tom and Gem can take care of the house and the little ones and Tom and Gem can take care of themselves what is to happen Jenny may fall into the fire murmured Mrs. Lee who found little comfort in being talked to in this way your father's watch may be stolen while you're in talking with the neighbors now come mother you know I've had the charge of Jenny ever since father died and you began to go out washing I'll lock father's watch up in the box in our room then Tom and Gem won't know at what time to go to the factory besides Bessie said she raising herself up they are but young lads there's a deal of temptation to take them away from their homes if their homes are not comfortable and pleasant to them it's that more than anything I've been fretting about all the time I've been ill that I've lost the power of making this house the cleanest and brightest place they know I've been fretting said she falling back weakly upon the bed and sighing I must leave it in God's hands he raises up and he bringeth low Bessie stood silent for a minute or two then she said well mother I will try to make home comfortable for the lads if your book keep your mind easy and go off to Southport quiet and cheerful I'll try said Mrs. Lee the next Wednesday she set off leaving home with a heavy heart which however she struggled against and tried to make more faithful but she wished her three weeks at Southport were over Tom and Jem were both older than Bessie and she was 15 then came Bill and Mary and little Jenny they were all good children and all had folks Tom and Jem helped to support the family by their earnings at the factory and gave up their wages very cheerfully for this purpose to their mother who however insisted on a little being put by every week in the savings bank it was one of her griefs now that's when the doctor ordered her some expensive delicacy in the way of diet during her illness a thing which she persisted in thinking she could have done without her boys had gone and taken their money out in order to procure it for her basically in question did not cost one quarter of the amount of their savings but they had put off returning the remainder into the bank saying that the doctor's bill had yet to be paid and that it seemed so silly to be always taking money in and out but meanwhile Mrs. Lee feared lest it should be spent and begged them to restore it to the savings bank this had not been done when she left for Southport Bill and Mary went to school little Jenny was the darling of all and toddled about at home having been her sister Bessie's special charge when all went on well and the mother used to go out to wash Mrs. Lee however had always made a point of giving all her children who were at home a comfortable breakfast at seven before she set out to her day's work and she prepared the boys dinner ready for Bessie to warm for them at night too she was anxious to be home as soon after her boys as she could and many of her employers respected her wish and finding her hard working and conscientious took care to set her at liberty early in the evening Bessie felt very proud and womanly when she returned home from seeing her mother off by the railway she looked round the house with a new feeling of proprietorship and then went to claim little Jenny from the neighbours where she had been left while Bessie had gone to the station they asked her to stay and have a bit of a chat but she replied that she could not for that it was near dinner time and she refused the invitation that was then given her to go in some evening she was full of good plans and resolutions that afternoon she took Jenny and went to her teachers to borrow a book which she meant to ask one of her brothers to read to her in the evenings while she worked she knew that it was a book which Jen would like for though she had never read it one of her school fellows had told her all about the sea and desert islands and coconut trees just the things that Jen liked to hear about how happy they would all be this evening she hurried Jenny off to bed before her brothers came home Jenny did not like to go so early and had to be bribed and coaxed to give up the pleasure of sitting on brother Tom's knee when she was in bed she could not go to sleep and kept up a little whimper of distress Bessie kept calling out to her now in gentle, now in sharp tones as she made the hearth clean and bright against her brothers return as she settled Bill and Mary to their next day's lessons and got her work ready for a happy evening presently the elder boys came in where's Jenny? asked Tom the first thing I've put her to bed said Bessie I've borrowed a book for you to read to me while I darn the stockings and it was time for Jenny to go mother never puts her to bed so soon said Tom, dissatisfied but she'd be so in the way of any quietness over our reading said Bessie I don't want to read, said Tom I want Jenny to sit on me knee as she always does while I eat me supper Tom, Tom, dear Tom called out little Jenny who had heard his voice and perhaps a little of the conversation Tom made but two steps upstairs and reappeared with Jenny with her arms in her night clothes the little girl looked at Bessie half triumphant and half afraid Bessie did not speak but she was evidently very much displeased Tom began to eat his porridge with Jenny on his knee Bessie sat in sullen silence she was vexed with Tom vexed with Jenny and vexed with Jem to gratify whose taste for reading travels she had especially borrowed this book which he seemed to care so little about she brooded over her fancied wrongs ready to fall upon the first person who might give the slightest occasion for anger it happened to be poor little Jenny who, by some awkward movement knocked over the jug of milk and made a great splash on Bessie's clean white floor Never mind, said Tom as Jenny began to cry I like me porridge as well without milkers with it Oh, never mind, said Bessie her colour rising and her breath growing shorter Never mind, dirtying anything Jenny it's only giving trouble to Bessie but I'll make your mind, continued she as she caught a glance of intelligence peep from Jem's eyes to Tom and she slapped Jenny's head the moment she had done it she was sorry for it she could have beaten herself now with the greatest pleasure for having given way to passion for she loved little Jenny dearly and she saw that she really had hurt her but Jem, with his loud deep for shame Bessie and Tom, with his excessive sympathy with his little sister's wrongs checked back any expression which Bessie might have uttered of sorrow and regret she sat there ten times more unhappy than she had been before the accident hardening her heart to the reproaches of her conscience yet feeling most keenly that she had been acting wrongly no one seemed to notice her this was the evening she had planned and arranged for so busily and the others, who never thought about it at all were all quiet and happy at least in outward appearance while she was so wretched by and by she felt the touch of a little soft hand stealing into her own she looked to see who it was it was Mary, who till now had been busy learning her lessons but uncomfortably conscious of the discordant spirits prevailing in the room and who had at last ventured up to Bessie as the one who looped the most unhappy to express in her own little gentle way her sympathy and sorrow Mary was not a quick child she was plain and awkward in her ways and did not seem to have many words in which to tell her feelings but she was very tender and loving and submitted meekly and humbly to the little slights and rebuffs she often met with for her stupidity Dear Bessie Good night said she, kissing her sister and at the soft kiss Bessie's eyes filled with tears and her heart began to melt Jenny continued Mary going to the little spoilt willful girl Will you come to bed with me and I'll tell you stories about school and sing you my songs as I undress Come little one said she holding out her arms Jenny was tempted by this speech and went off to bed in a more reasonable frame of mind than anyone had dared to hope and now all seemed clear and open for the reading but each was too proud to propose it Jem indeed seemed to have forgotten the book altogether he was so busy whittling away at a piece of wood at last Tom, by a strong effort said Bessie means we have the book now No, said Jem Don't begin reading make Ned Bates give me a piece of ash wood deal is just good for nothing Oh, said Bessie I don't want anyone to read this book who does not like it but I know mother would be better pleased if you were stopping at home quiet rather than rambling to Ned Bates's at this time of night I know what mother would like just as well as you and I'm not going to be preached to by a girl said Jem taking up his cap and going out Tom yawned and went up to bed Bessie sat brooding over the evening so much as I thought and I planned I'm sure I tried to do what was right to make the boys happy at home and yet nothing has happened as I wanted it to do everyone has been so cross and contrary Tom would take Jenny up when she ought to have been in bed Jem did not care a straw for this book that I borrowed on purpose for him but sat laughing I saw, though he did not think I did when all was going provoking and vexatious Barry no, Mary was a help and a comfort as she always is I think though she is so stupid over a book Mary always can try to get people right and have her own way somehow and yet I'm sure she does not take half the trouble I do to please people Jem came back soon disappointed because Ned Bates was out and could not give him any ashwood Bessie said it served him right for going at that time of night and the brother and sister spoke angrily to each other all the way upstairs and parted without even saying good night Jenny was asleep when Bessie entered the bedroom which she shared with her sisters and her mother but she saw Mary's wakeful eyes looking at her as she came in oh Mary said she, I wish mother was back the lads would mind her and now I see they'll just go and get into mischief despite and plague me I don't think it's for that said Mary softly Jem did want that ashwood and oh he told me in the morning he didn't think that deal would do he wants to make a wedge to keep the window from rattling so on windy nights you know how that fidgets mother the next day little Mary on her way to school went round by Ned Bates's to beg a piece of wood for her brother Jem brought it home to him at dinner time and asked him to be so good as to have everything ready for a quiet whittling at night while Tom or Bessie read aloud she told Jenny she would make haste with her lessons so as to be ready to come to bed early and talk to her about school a grand wonderful place in Jenny's eyes and thus Mary quietly and gently prepared for a happy evening by attending to the kind of happiness for which everyone wished while Mary had thus been preparing for a happy evening Bessie had been spending part of the afternoon at a Mrs. Foster's a neighbour of her mother's and a very tidy industrious old widow Mrs. Foster earned part of her livelihood by working for the shops where knitted work of all kinds is to be sold and Bessie's attention was caught almost as soon as she went in by a very gay piece of wool-knitting in a new stitch that was to be used as a warm covering for the feet after admiring its pretty looks Bessie thought how useful it might be to her mother and when Mrs. Foster heard this she offered to teach Bessie how to do it but where were the wools to come from those which Mrs. Foster used were provided her by the shop and she was a very poor woman too poor to make presents though rich enough as we all are to give help of many other kinds and willing to do what she could which some of us are not the two sat perplexed how much did you say it would cost said Bessie at last as if the article was likely to have become cheaper since she asked the question before well it's sure to be more than two shillings if it's German wool you might get it for 18 pence if you could be content with English but I've not got 18 pence said Bessie gloomily I could lend it you said Mrs. Foster for Monday but it's part of me rent money could you make sure do you think oh yes said Bessie eagerly at least I'd try but perhaps I'd better not take it after all I don't know where I could get it what Tom and Gem earn is little enough for the house now that mother's washing is cut off they're good dutiful lads to give it to their mother said Mrs. Foster sighing for she thought of her own boys that had left her in her old age and had gone with faded eyesight and weakened strength oh but mother makes them each keep a shilling out of it for themselves said Bessie in a complaining tone for she wanted money who was inclined to envy anyone who possessed it that's right enough said Mrs. Foster they that earn it should have some of the power over it but about this wool this 18 pence I wish I was a boy and could earn money I wish mother would have let me go to work in the factory come now Bessie I can have none of that nonsense thy mother knows what's best for thee and I'm not going to hear the complain of what she has thought right but maybe I can help you to a way of gaining 18 pence Mrs. Scott at the Worsted shop told me that she should want someone to clean on a Saturday now you're a good strong girl and can do a woman's work if you ever mind shall I say you'll go and then I don't mind if I lend you my 18 pence but pay me before I want me rent on Monday oh thank you dear Mrs. Foster said Bessie I can scour as well as any woman mother often says so and I'll do me best on Saturday they shan't blame you for having spoken up for me no Bessie they won't I'm sure if you do your best you're a good sharp girl for your years Bessie lingered for some time hoping that Mrs. Foster would remember her offer of lending her the money but finding that she had quite forgotten it she ventured to remind the kind old woman that it was nothing but forgetfulness was evident from the haste with which Mrs. Foster bustled up to a teapot and took from it the money required you're as welcome to it as can be Bessie as long as I'm sure of it's being repaid by Monday but you're in a mighty hurry about this coverlet continued she as she saw Bessie put on her bonnet and prepared to go out stay you must take patterns and go to the right shop in St. Mary's Gate why your mother won't be back this three weeks child no but I can't abide waiting and I want to set to it before it is dark and you'll teach me the stitch won't you when I come back with the walls I won't be half an hour away but Mary and Bill had to abide waiting that afternoon for though the neighbour at whose house the key was left could let them into the house there was no supper ready for them on their return from school and Jenny was away spending the afternoon with a playfellow the fire was nearly out the milk had been left to the neighbours altogether home was very comfortable to the poor tired children and Bill grumbled terribly Mary's head ached and the very tones of her brother's voice she complained gave her pain and for a minute she felt inclined to sit down and cry but then she thought of many little sayings which she had heard from her teacher such as never complain of what you can cure bear and for bear and several other short sentences of a similar description so she began to make up the fire and asked Bill to fetch some chips and when he gave her the gruff answer that he did not see any use in making a fire when there was nothing to cook by it she went herself and brought the wood without a word of complaints presently Bill said here you let me those bellows you're not blowing it in the right way girls never do he found out that Mary was wise in making a bright fire ready for before the blowing was ended the neighbour with whom the milk had been left brought it in and little handy Mary prepared the porridge as well as the mother herself could have done they just ended when Bessie came in almost breathless for she had suddenly remembered in the middle of a knitting lesson that Bill and Mary must be at home from school oh she said that's right I have so worried myself I was afraid the fire would be out where's Jenny you were to have called for her you know as you came home from school dear how stupid you are Mary I'm sure I told you over and over again I don't cry silly child the best thing you can do is run off back again for her but my lessons Bessie they are so bad to learn is tables day tomorrow pleaded Mary nonsense tables are as easy as can be I can say up to 16 times 16 in no time but you know Bessie I'm very stupid and may I day so tonight well the air will do it good really Mary I would go on myself only I'm so busy and you know Bill is too careless mother says to fetch Jenny through the streets and besides they would quarrel and you can always manage Jenny Mary sighed and went away to bring her sister home Bessie sat down to her knitting presently Bill came up to her with some question about his lesson she told him the answer without looking at the book it was all wrong and made nonsense but Bill did not care to understand what he learned and went on saying 12 inches make one shilling as contentedly as if it were right Mary brought Jenny home quite safely indeed Mary always did succeed in everything except learning her lessons well and sometimes if the teacher could have known how many tasks fell upon the willing gentle girl at home she would not have thought that poor Mary was slow or a dunce and such thoughts would come into the teacher's mind sometimes although she fully appreciated Mary's sweetness and humility of disposition tonight she tried harder to tables and all to no use her head ached so she could not remember them do what she would she longed to go to her mother whose cool hands around her forehead always seemed to do her so much good and whose soft loving words were such a help to her when she had to bear pain she had arranged so many plans for tonight and now all were deranged by Bessie's new fancy for knitting but Mary did not see this in clear light in which I have put it before you she only was sorry that she could not make haste with her lessons as she had promised Jenny who was now upgrading her with the non-fulfillment of her words Jenny was still up when Tom and Jem came in they spoke sharply to Bessie for not having their porridge ready and while she was defending herself Mary even at the risk of imperfect lessons began to prepare the supper for her brothers she did it all so quietly that almost before they were aware it was ready for them and Bessie suddenly ashamed of herself and touched by Mary's quiet helpfulness bent down and kissed her as once more she settled to the never-ending difficulty of her lesson Mary threw her arms around Bessie's neck and began to cry for this little mark of affection went to her heart she had been so longing for a word or a sign of love in her suffering come Molly said Jem, don't cry like a baby but he spoke very kindly what's the matter? the old headache come back? never mind go to bed and it will be better in the morning but I can't go to bed I don't know my lesson Mary looked happier though the tears were in her eyes I know mine said Bill triumphantly come here said Jem there have time enough to whittle away at this before mother comes back now let's see this difficult lesson Jem's help soon enabled Mary to conquer her lesson but meanwhile Jenny and Bill had taken to quarrelling in spite of Bessie's scolding administered in small sharp doses as she looked up from her all-absorbing knitting well said Tom with this right on one side and this dull lesson on the other and Bessie as cross as can be in the midst I can understand what makes a man go out to spend his evenings from home Bessie looked up suddenly wakened up to a sense of the danger which her mother had dreaded Bessie thought that it was very fortunate that it fell on a Saturday of all days in the week that Mrs. Scott wanted her for Mary would be at home who could attend to the household wants of everybody and so she satisfied her conscience at leaving the post of duty that her mother had assigned to her and that she had promised to fulfil she was so eager about her own plans that she did not consider this she did not consider at all or else I think she would have seen many things to which she seemed to be blind now when were Mary's lessons for Monday to be learnt Bessie knew as well as we do that lesson learning was hard work to Mary if Mary worked as hard as she could after morning school she could hardly get the house cleaned up bright and comfortable before her brothers came home from the factory which loosed early on the Saturday afternoon and if pails of water chairs heaped up one on the other and tables put topsy-turvy on the dresser with the most prominent objects in the house place there would be no temptation for the lads to stay at home besides which Mary, tired and weary however gentle she might be would not be able to give the life to the evening that Bessie a clever spirited girl near their own age could easily do if she chose to be interested and sympathising in what they had to tell but Bessie did not think of all this what she did think about was the pleasant surprise she should give her mother by the warm and pretty covering for her feet which she hoped to present her with on her return home and if she had done the duties she was pledged to on her mother's departure first if they had been compatible with her plan of being a whole day absent from home in order to earn the money for the wolves the project of the surprise would have been innocent and praiseworthy Bessie prepared everything for dinner before she left home that Saturday morning she made a potato pie already for putting in the oven she was very particular in telling Mary what was to be cleaned and how it was all to be cleaned and then she kissed the children and ran off to Mrs. Scots Mary was rather afraid of the responsibility thrust upon her but still she was pleased that Bessie could trust her to do so much she took Jenny to the ever-useful neighbour as she and Bill went to school but she was rather frightened when Mrs. Jones began to grumble about these frequent visits of the child I was ready enough to take care of the wench when their mother was ill there was reason for that and the child is a nice child enough when she's not cross but still there are some folks it seems who if you give them an inch will take an L where's Bessie that she can't mind her own sister gone out charring said Mary clasping the little hand in hers tighter but she was afraid of Mrs. Jones's anger I could go out charring every day in the week if I had the face to trouble other folks with my children said Mrs. Jones in a surly tone shall I take her back, ma'am said Mary timidly though she knew this would involve her being away from school and being blamed by the dear teacher but Mrs. Jones growled worse than she bit this time at least no, said she you may leave her with me I suppose she's had a breakfast yes, and I'll fetch her away as soon as ever I can after twelve if Mary had been one to consider the hardships of her little lot she might have felt this morning's occurrence as one that she was giving trouble to anybody and was painfully averse from asking any little favour for herself should be the very one on whom it fell to presume upon another person's kindness but Mary never did think of any hardships they seemed the natural events of life and if it was fitting and proper that she who managed things badly and was such a dunce should be blamed still she was rather flurried by Mrs. Jones's scolding and almost wished to take Jenny home again her lessons were not well said owing to the distraction of her mind when she went for Jenny she found that Mrs. Jones repenting of her sharp words had given the little girl bread and treacle and made her very comfortable so much so that Jenny was not at all at once ready to leave her little playmates and when one she had set out on the road she was in no humour to make haste Mary thought of the potato pie and her brothers and could almost have cried as Jenny, heedless of her sisters and treatise would linger at the picture shops I should be obliged to go and leave you Jenny I must get dinner ready I don't care said Jenny I don't want any dinner and I can come home quite well by myself Mary half longed to give her a fright it was so provoking but she thought of her mother who was so anxious always about Jenny and she did not do it she kept patiently trying to attract her onwards and at last they were home Mary stirred up the fire which was to all appearance quite black it blazed up but the oven was cold she put the pie in and blew the fire but the paste was quite white and soft when her brothers came home eager and hungry oh Mary what a manager you are said Tom someone else would have remembered about the pie in in time Mary's eyes filled full of tears but she did not try to justify herself she went on blowing till Jem took the bellows and kindly told her to take off her bonnet and lay the cloth Jem was always kind he gave Tom the best baked side of the pie and quietly took the side himself where the paste was little better than dough and the potatoes quite hard and when he caught Mary's little anxious face watching him as he had to leave part of his dinner untasted he said Mary I should like this pie warmed up for supper there's nothing so good as potato pie made hot the second time Tom went off saying Mary I would not have you for a wife on any account why my dinner would never be ready and your sad face would take away my appetite if it were but Jem kissed her and said never mind Mary you and I will live together old maid no bachelor so she could set too with spirit to her cleaning thinking there was never such a good brother as Jem and as she dwelt upon his perfections she thought who it was who had given her such a good kind brother and felt her heart full of gratitude to him she scoured and cleaned in right down earnest Jenny helped her for some time delighted to be allowed to touch and lift things but then she grew tired and Bill was out of doors so Mary had to do all by herself and grew very nervous and frightened lest all should not be finished and tidy against Tom came home and the more frightened she grew the worse she got on her hands trembled and things slipped out of them and she shook so she could not lift heavy pieces of furniture quickly and sharply and in the middle the clock struck the hour for her brother's return when all ought to have been tidy and ready for tea she gave it up in despair and began to cry oh Bessie Bessie why did you go away I've tried hard and I cannot do it she said aloud as if Bessie could hear dear Mary don't cry said Jenny suddenly coming away from her play I'll help you I'm very strong I can do anything I can lift that pan off the fire pan was full of boiling water ready for Mary Jenny took hold of the handle and dragged it along the bar over the fire Mary sprung forwards in terror to stop the little girl she never knew how it was but the next moment her arm and side were full of burning pain which turned her sick and dizzy and Jenny was crying passionately beside her oh Mary Mary Mary my hand is so scolded what shall I do I cannot bear it it's all about my feet on the ground she kept shaking her hand to cool it by the action of the air Mary thought that she herself was dying so acute and terrible was the pain she could hardly keep from screaming out aloud but she felt as if she once began she could not stop herself so she sat still moaning down her face like rain go Jenny said she tell someone to come I can't I can't my hand hurts so said Jenny but she flew wildly out of the house the next minute crying out Mary's dead come come come but Mary could bear it no longer but had fainted away and looked indeed like one that was dead neighbors flocked in and one ran for a doctor in five minutes Tom and Jem came home what a home it seems people they hardly knew standing in the house place which looked as if it had never been cleaned all was so wet and in such disorder and dirty with the trampling of many feet Jenny still crying passionately but half comforted at being at present the only authority as to how the affair happened and faint moans from the room upstairs the clothes of poor Mary preparatory for the doctor's inspection Jem said directly someone go straight to Mrs. Scots and fetch our Bessie her place is here with Mary and then he's civilly but quietly dismissed all the unnecessary useless people feeling sure that in case of any illness quiet was the best thing then he went upstairs Mary's face was scarlet now with violent pain but she smiled a little through her tears at seeing Jem as for him he cried out right I don't think it was anybody's fault Jem said she softly it was very heavy to lift are you in great pain dear asked Jem in a whisper I think I'm killed Jem I do think I am and I did so I want to see mother again nonsense said the woman who had been helping Mary for as she said afterwards whether Mary died or lived crying was a bad thing for her and she saw the girl was ready to cry when she thought of her mother though she had born up bravely all the time the clothes will cut off Bessie's face which had been red with hard running faded to a dead white when she saw Mary she looked so shocked and ill that Jem had not the heart to blame her although the minute before she came in he had been feeling very angry with her Bessie stood quite still at the foot of Mary's bed never speaking a word while the doctor examined her side and felt her pulse only great round tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she saw Mary quiver with pain Jem followed the doctor downstairs then Bessie went and knelt beside Mary and wiped away the tears that were trickling down the little face is it very bad Mary asked Bessie oh yes yes if I speak I shall scream then Bessie covered her head in the bed clothes and cried out right I was not cross was I I didn't mean to be but I hardly know what I'm saying moaned out little Mary please forgive me Bessie if I was cross God forgive me said Bessie very low they were the first words she had spoken since she came home looking between the sisters for now the woman returned who had first been assisting Mary presently Jem came to the door and beckoned Bessie rose up and went with him below Jem looked very grave yet not so sad as he had done before the doctor came he says she must go into the infirmary he will see about getting her in oh Jem I did so once a nurse in myself said Bessie imploringly it was all my own fault she choked with crying and I thought I might do that for her to make up my dear Bessie before he had seen Bessie he had thought he could never call her dear again but now he began my dear Bessie we both want Mary to get better don't we I'm sure we do and we want to take the best way of making her so whatever that is well then I think we must not be considering what we should like best for ourselves but what people who know as well as doctors do say is the right way I can't remember all that he said but I'm clear that he told me all wounds on the skin required more and better air to healing than Mary could have here and there the doctor will see her twice a day if need be Bessie shook her head but could not speak at first at last she said Jem I did so once a do something for her no one could nurse her as I should Jem was silent at last he took Bessie's hand for he wanted to say something to her that he was afraid might vex her and yet that he thought he ought to say Bessie said he when mother went away you plan to do all things right at home and to make us all happy I know you did now may I tell you how I think you went wrong don't be angry Bessie I think I shall never have spirit enough in me to be angry again said Bessie humbly and sadly so much the better dear but don't over fret about Mary the doctor has good hopes of her if he can get her into the infirmary now I'm going on to tell you how I think you got wrong after mother left you see Bessie you wanted to make us all happy your way as you liked just as you are wanting now to nurse Mary in your way as you like now as far as I can make out those folks who make home the happiest are people who try and find out how others think they could be happy and then if he's not wrong help them on with their wishes as far as they can you know you wanted us all to listen to your book and very kind it was in you to think of it only you see one wanted to wittle and another wanted to do this or that and then you were vexed with us all I don't say but what I should have been if I had been in your place and planned such a deal for others only lookers on always see a deal and I saw that if you had done what poor little Mary did next day we should all have been far happier she thought how she could forward us in our plans instead of trying to force a plan of her own on us she got me my right sort of wood for whittling and arranged all nicely to get the little ones out of the bed so as to get the house quiet if you wanted some reading as she thought you did and that's the way I notice some folks have a making a happy home others may mean just as well but they don't hit the thing I dare say it's true said Bessie but sometimes you all hang about as if you did not know what to do and I thought reading travels would just please you all Jen was touched by Bessie's speaking so different from her usual cheerful self-confident manner he answered I know you did dear and many a time we should have been glad enough of it when we had nothing to do as you say I promised mother to try and make you all happy and this is the end of it said Bessie beginning to cry afresh but Bessie I think you were not thinking of your promise when you fixed to go out and char I thought of earning money earning money would not make us happy we have enough with care and management if you were to have made us happy you should have been at home with a bright face ready to welcome us don't you think so dear Bessie I did not want the money for home I wanted to make mother a present of such a pretty thing poor mother I'm afraid we must send for her home now and she's only been three days at Southport oh said Bessie this notion of gems don't, don't send for mother the doctor did say so much about her going to Southport being the only thing for her and I did so try to get her an order it will kill her gem indeed it will you don't know how weak and frighten she is oh gem, gem gem felt the truth of what his sister was saying at last he resolved to leave the matter for the doctor to decide as he had attended his mother and now knew exactly how much danger there was about Mary he proposed to Bessie that they should go and relieve the kind neighbour who had charge of Mary but you won't send for mother pleaded Bessie if it's the best thing for Mary I'll wash up her things tonight already for her to go into the infirmary I won't think of myself gem well I must speak to the doctor said gem I must not try and fix anyway just because we wish it all night long Bessie washed and ironed and yet was always ready to attend to Mary when gem called her she took Jenny's scolded hand in charge as well and bathed it with the lotion the doctor sent and all was done so meekly and patiently that even Tom was struck with it and admired the change the doctor came very early he had prepared everything for Mary's admission into the infirmary and gem consulted him about sending for his mother home Bessie sat trembling awaiting his answer I'm very unwilling to sanction any concealment and yet, as you say your mother is in a very delicate state it might do a serious harm if she had any shock well, suppose for this once I take it on myself if Mary goes on as I hope why? well, well, we'll see mind that your mother is told all when she comes home and if our poor Mary grows worse but I'm not afraid of that with infirmary care and nursing but if she does I'll write to your mother myself and arrange with a kind friend I have at Southport all about sending her home and now, said he turning suddenly to Bessie tell me what were you doing from home when this happened did not your mother leave you in charge of all at home? yes sir said Bessie trembling sir, I thought I could earn money to make mother a present thought, fiddle-dee-dee I'll tell you what, never you neglect the work clearly laid out for you by either God or man to go making work for yourself according to your own fancies God knows what you are most fit for do that and then wait if you don't see your next duty clearly you will not long be idle in this world if you are ready for a summons now let me see where you send Mary all clean and tidied to the infirmary Gem was holding Bessie's hand she has washed everything and made it fit for a queen ah, Bessie worked all night long and was content to let me be with Mary where she wished so to be because I could lift her better being the stronger that's right even when you want to be of service to others don't think how to please yourself I have not much more to tell you about Bessie this sad accident of Mary's did her a great deal of good although it cost her so much sorrow at first it taught her several lessons which it is good for every woman to learn whether she is called upon as daughter, sister, wife or mother to contribute to the happiness of a home and Mary herself was hardly more thoughtful and careful to make others happy in their own way provided that way was innocent as Bessie hereafter it was a struggle between her and Mary which could be the least selfish and do the duties nearest to them with most faithfulness and zeal the mother stayed at Southport her full time and came home well and strong then Bessie put her arms round her mother's neck and told her all and far more severely against herself than either the doctor or Gem did when they related the same story afterwards End of Bessie's Troubles at Home by Elizabeth Gaskell


Treatment of multidrug-resistant tuberculosis, MDRTB, requires long courses of expensive medication which can be challenging due to the high risk of side effects. In this study, we examined the effectiveness of different treatment combinations, as well as the use of whole genome sequencing, WGS, in MDRTB cases. Of the 47 cases studied, 35-74% had a successful treatment outcome. Factors associated with non-successful outcomes included Finnish origin and XDRTB. Almost 90% of the cases experienced adverse events from at least one drug. Phenotypic and WGS drug-resistance results were fully concordant for isoniasid, fluoroquinolonies, amicacin, and greater than 90% concordant for rifampicin, pyrazinamide, cannamycin, and capryomycin. Additionally, more than 60% of phenotypically afambutal susceptible isolates were found to be genetically resistant. The results of the rifampicin and isoniasid. This article was authored by Verve Corhonen, Pia Kivala, Marjo Hampra, and others. We are article.tv, links in the description below.


Oh, I'm exploited as a worker, but I'm a citizen of the richest country in the world. Or I'm disadvantaged as a woman, but I'm white. And that gives me access to some opportunities that other people don't have. So what that means is that when people are thinking about different political strategies, it's a very complicated picture. Oh, maybe I have something to gain from more reproductive rights. But oh, maybe I have something to lose from the destabilization of the status quo. My name is Nancy Fulbury, and I am a professor emerita of economics at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and director of the program on gender and care work at the Political Economy Research Institute. I think the meaning of class is kind of changing in some ways. It's evolving. I think originally it was defined as a relationship to the means of production, like owners versus workers. But there's kind of an analogy between that definition of class and some definitions of other socially assigned groups that have experienced pretty hierarchical inequalities. Like you could think of women and men as groups defined by a different relationship to the means of reproduction. Or you could think of racial ethnic differences as a relationship to a means of kind of cultural identity and distribution of resources outside the market and inside the market. So what I try to do in my work is think about both the parallels between different forms of group inequality and also the overlaps and the intersections. And the end result is a picture of inequality that's more complex and I think we're more resilient, but perhaps in some ways also a little bit more vulnerable to critique. You're asking me how economic oppression differs from social and other. Well, sometimes people put it this way, there's a difference between economic exploitation and social or political oppression. And I think that is kind of a false binary and that the relationship between these different forms of inequality is somewhat different. That almost all forms of inequality have an element of exploitation and almost all forms of inequality have a form of oppression. And it's usually related to differences in bargaining power based on group membership.  So in every case, it's not a characteristic of you as an individual, it's something about your place and the structure of society and of the distribution of wealth and power. And it has ongoing consequences for your access to resources like education, income, social safety net, employment opportunities, so forth and so on. So how has feminist economics morphed into kind of a bigger picture of differences in political economy? I think the story kind of has political origins, which is that feminism went through a period of being very vulnerable to criticism for being very inattentive to racial-ethnic differences. And that forced kind of a rethinking of the way in which we've implicitly kind of ranked different forms of inequality. So the paradox, I think, for a lot of feminist theorists was for years we objected to being placed on sort of a lower level of importance than class inequality. And then suddenly we realized we were doing the same thing to people who were concerned about racial-ethnic inequality. Like, oh, yes, that's important. But really, we're centering this. Anyway, I think that sometimes a lot of changes in political theory are an outgrowth of kind of political practice and practice. And I think that's an example. And really the word intersectionality and the kind of intersectional vision was really kind of the outgrowth of black feminism and feminism from the global south kind of grappling with this contradiction. And I think it's proved to be a very fertile, very generative kind of evolution of thinking. Classical political economy, it's so fascinating, whether you're looking at Marx or antecedents like Ricardo, they just take labor as for granted. Labor exists. Labor is produced kind of by the natural world. And then labor is a key input into everything else. And so in the classical political economy world, everything is produced by labor, except labor. The time, effort, the money, the emotional energy that goes into creating and developing and producing human capabilities is just given like a natural asset or something. So I think economists are just beginning to come to grips with what is clearly not a very holistic analysis. I try to frame my ideas without a whole lot of regard for their possible strategic viability. Because if I start thinking too hard about costs and benefits, I feel like I get kind of derailed. I do think that there is a momentum to ideas. And I do believe in the momentum behind this idea of social reproduction and this idea that we need to think more about how labor is produced and also about how society and our potential to cooperate with other members of society is produced. And the reason I think that is because I think we're facing several related crises that are kind of result from our failure to think about that bigger picture. And one of those is global climate change. And I think many people are now very aware of the fact that our economic system literally created incentives to over exploit natural resources and to over-pollute the natural environment in ways that actually may well be leading to long-term economic crisis. And you can think about social inequality, I think, in very similar terms. That is, there are a lot of things with the social environment that seem very toxic. We have very high levels of crime. We have very high levels of inequality, of poverty, of deaths of despair, things that are very costly. We don't really keep account of them. We don't subtract them from our gross domestic product. But I think people are generally aware of the costs that they impose and are concerned about what it takes to have, to maintain, to reproduce a society in a sustainable way for very good reasons, because I think we feel the threat. The single-minded pursuit of self-interest is pretty much a recipe for extinction. I like describing it as a recipe for obvious reasons. And I think it's because self-interest really works well or can work pretty good in some forms of exchange between equals where each has something to gain and they're each just kind of in a position to ensure that they can demand something resembling a fair price for what they're buying or selling. But exchange doesn't really work for things that are not easily exchanged on a per-unit basis, like public goods of the environment. There's no price put on wild fish. There's no price put on trees in the Amazon. There's no price put on clean air. There's no price. You're not paying a per-unit basis. And likewise, if you think about intergenerational relations, we don't exchange with future generations because they're not born yet. I mean, exchange is just not a feasible model for thinking about our relationship to future generations. So these are examples of what economists and social scientists in general call coordination problems. And coordination problems require cooperation.  And don't get me wrong, it's always been true. There's always been coordination problems. This isn't like a new phenomenon, but it's become a much more serious problem because we've been, you know, a lot of our success, measurable success in the market economy has come at the expense of unpriced natural assets and unpriced natural processes and social processes. And so, you know, it's kind of a paradox that our abundance has been purchased at a pretty high price. And now, in order to kind of pay that price and move on, we need to get together and agree on what to do about it on a global level. I think that comes through very, very clearly in discussions of climate change, but it's also very, very, very true about the social climate as well. If the 1% were all we needed to worry about, if that was the source of all inequality in the world, it would be really easy to organize against them and to establish a more egalitarian and more cooperative system. But that's not the world we live in. We live in this world of very complicated overlapping hierarchies in which almost everybody is in a somewhat contradictory position.  Or, you know, I'm disadvantaged as a woman, but I'm white and that gives me access to some opportunities that other people don't have. So what that means is that kind of, when people are thinking about different political strategies, it's a very complicated picture. You know, like, oh, maybe I have something to gain from more reproductive rights, but oh, maybe I have something to lose from the destabilization of the status quo because it might diminish other privileges that I enjoy. And so I think it has an immobilizing, I mean, you could argue that it has a stabilizing effect. And I do think it helps explain why hierarchies tend to persist, is that everybody is kind of, not everybody, but a lot of people are locked into a system where they're really afraid of losing something as the price of gaining something. And, you know, one of the really important points of economic psychology is that we all are very loss averse. It's more painful to us to have something taken away from us than not to get something that we don't yet have. And so I think intersectionality helps explain a lot of status quo, a lot of status quo inertia. And a lot of status quo complacency because you think, well, you know, the world is a little unfair, but in some ways I would benefit if it were not so unfair, but in some ways I might actually be kind of hurt. So, oh, what do I do? And so what I think that means is that to build a coalition for political change, you need to bring people together around a vision of changes that would make them very significantly better off along a very significant dimension of their identity, and that may differ according to circumstances. So sometimes in the past, class identity, workers versus employers, sometimes that has been sufficiently powerful and momentous to overcome other divisions. Sometimes it hasn't.  But around some issues, they have a lot in common. Reproductive rights is a really good example. That's a cross-class, cross-race thing. Not completely because obviously you have better access to reproductive rights if you're in a privileged economic position, but you're still very much affected by restrictive rules and legislation, you know, both on a practical level and on a kind of cultural level. Or I don't know, look at Iran, you know, for years, there was just no movement in what seemed like a kind of impenetrable patriarchal society. And then suddenly that society took things too far in terms of violence and repression. And you see gender becomes this very significant mobilizing force with a lot of men in the streets, young men and young women in the streets together really challenging these really repressive patriarchal rules. So that's, you know, I feel like our job as social scientists is to try to better understand why coalitions coalesce in certain ways and how we can use that strategically to move towards a better set of rules for the global economy as a whole. That's a lot bigger than say just end capitalism or end class conflict. It's gotta be something like we want fair play, we want sustainable relationships, we want an ability to solve collective coordination problems. We want a larger set of ideals about how we manage our relationship with the natural world. And I think that's what's evolving. I think that's what activists, a lot of activists want and what a lot of activist slogans represent. But I think political economy needs to catch up, theory needs to catch up to that kind of more de-centered vision of a good society. And I think that's what intersectionality helps us do.