The Flight of the Shadow | Page 3

hall when first it
was built. This was Miss Martha Moon's headquarters.
She was my uncle's second cousin, and as he always called her Martha,
so did I, without rebuke: every one else about the place called her Miss
Martha.
Of much greater worth and much more genuine refinement than tens of
thousands the world calls ladies, she never claimed the distinction.
Indeed she strongly objected to it. If you had said or implied she was a
lady, she would have shrunk as from a covert reflection on the quality
of her work. Had she known certain of such as nowadays call
themselves lady-helps, I could have understood her objection. I think,
however, it came from a stern adherence to the factness--if I may coin
the word--of things. She never called a lie a fib.
When she was angry, she always held her tongue; she feared being
unfair. She had indeed a rare power of silence. To this day I do not
_know_, but am nevertheless sure that, by an instinct of understanding,
she saw into my uncle's trouble, and descried, more or less plainly, the
secret of it, while yet she never even alluded to the existence of such a
trouble. She had a regard for woman's dignity as profound as silent. She
was not of those that prate or rave about their rights, forget their duties,
and care only for what they count their victories.
She declared herself dead against marriage. One day, while yet hardly
more than a child, I said to her thoughtfully,
"I wonder why you hate gentlemen, Martha!"
"Hate 'em! What on earth makes you say such a wicked thing, Orbie?"
she answered. "Hate 'em, the poor dears! I love 'em! What did you ever
see to make you think I hated your uncle now?"
"Oh! of course! uncle!" I returned; for my uncle was all the world to
me. "Nobody could hate uncle!"
"She'd be a bad woman, anyhow, that did!" rejoined Martha. "But did
anybody ever hate the person that couldn't do without her, Orbie?"
My name--suggested by my uncle because my mother died at my
birth--was a curious one; I believe he made it himself. Belorba it was,
and it means Fair Orphan.
"I don't know, Martha," I replied.

"Well, you watch and see!" she returned. "Do you think I would stay
here and work from morning to night if I hadn't some reason for it?--Oh,
I like work!" she went on; "I don't deny that. I should be miserable if I
didn't work. But I'm not bound to this sort of work. I have money of my
own, and I'm no beggar for house-room. But rather than leave your
uncle, poor man! I would do the work of a ploughman for him."
"Then why don't you marry him, Martha?" I said, with innocent
impertinence.
"Marry him! I wouldn't marry him for ten thousand pounds, child!"
"Why not, if you love him so much? I'm sure he wouldn't mind!"
"Marry him!" repeated Miss Martha, and stood looking at me as if here
at last was a creature she could not understand; "marry the poor dear
man, and make him miserable! I could love any man better than that!
Just you open your eyes, my dear, and see what goes on about you. Do
you see so many men made happy by their wives? I don't say it's all the
wives' fault, poor things! But the fact's the same: there's the poor
husbands all the time trying hard to bear it! What with the babies, and
the headaches, and the rest of it, that's what it comes to--the husbands
are not happy! No, no! A woman can do better for a man than marry
him!"
"But mayn't it be the husband's fault--sometimes, Martha?"
"It may; but what better is it for that? What better is the wife for
knowing it, or how much happier the husband for not knowing it? As
soon as you come to weighing who's in fault, and counting how much,
it's all up with the marriage. There's no more comfort in life for either
of them! Women are sent into the world to make men happy. I was sent
to your uncle, and I'm trying to do my duty. It's nothing to me what
other women think; I'm here to serve your uncle. What comes of me, I
don't care, so long as I do my work, and don't keep him waiting that
made me for it. You may think it a small thing to make a man happy! I
don't. God thought him worth making, and he wouldn't be if he was
miserable. I've seen one woman make ten men unhappy! I know my
calling, Orbie. Nothing would make me marry one of them, poor
things!"
"But if