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                                TWICE…TOLD TALES

                               OLD ESTHER DUDLEY

                             by Nathaniel Hawthorne



   THE HOUR HAD COME… the hour of defeat and humiliation… when Sir

William Howe was to pass over the threshold of the Province House; and

embark; with no such triumphal ceremonies as he once promised himself;

on board the British fleet。 He bade his servants and military

attendants go before him; and lingered a moment in the loneliness of

the mansion; to quell the fierce emotions that struggled in his

bosom as with a death throb。 Preferable; then; would he have deemed

his fate; had a warrior's death left him a claim to the narrow

territory of a grave within the soil which the King had given him to

defend。 With an ominous perception that; as his departing footsteps

echoed adown the staircase; the sway of Britain was passing forever

from New England; he smote his clinched hand on his brow; and cursed

the destiny that had flung the shame of a dismembered empire upon him。

   〃Would to God;〃 cried he; hardly repressing his tears of rage;

〃that the rebels were even now at the doorstep! A blood…stain upon the

floor should then bear testimony that the last British ruler was

faithful to his trust。〃

   The tremulous voice of a woman replied to his exclamation。

   〃Heaven's cause and the King's are one;〃 it said。 〃Go forth; Sir

William Howe; and trust in Heaven to bring back a Royal Governor in

triumph。〃

   Subduing; at once; the passion to which he had yielded only in

the faith that it was unwitnessed; Sir William Howe became conscious

that an aged woman; leaning on a gold…headed staff; was standing

betwixt him and the door。 It was old Esther Dudley; who had dwelt

almost immemorial years in this mansion; until her presence seemed

as inseparable from it as the recollections of its history。 She was

the daughter of an ancient and once eminent family; which had fallen

into poverty and decay; and left its last descendant no resource

save the bounty of the King; nor any shelter except within the walls

of the Province House。 An office in the household; with merely nominal

duties; had been assigned to her as a pretext for the payment of a

small pension; the greater part of which she expended in adorning

herself with an antique magnificence of attire。 The claims of Esther

Dudley's gentle blood were acknowledged by all the successive

Governors; and they treated her with the punctilious courtesy which it

was her foible to demand; not always with success; from a neglectful

world。 The only actual share which she assumed in the business of

the mansion was to glide through its passages and public chambers;

late at night; to see that the servants had dropped no fire from their

flaring torches; nor left embers crackling and blazing on the hearths。

Perhaps it was this invariable custom of walking her rounds in the

hush of midnight that caused the superstition of the times to invest

the old woman with attributes of awe and mystery; fabling that she had

entered the portal of the Province House; none knew whence; in the

train of the first Royal Governor; and that it was her fate to dwell

there till the last should have departed。 But Sir William Howe; if

he ever heard this legend; had forgotten it。

   〃Mistress Dudley; why are you loitering here?〃 asked he; with

some severity of tone。 〃It is my pleasure to be the last in this

mansion of the King。〃

   〃Not so; if it please your Excellency;〃 answered the

time…stricken woman。 〃This roof has sheltered me long。 I will not pass

from it until they bear me to the tomb of my forefathers。 What other

shelter is there for old Esther Dudley; save the Province House or the

grave?〃

   〃Now Heaven forgive me!〃 said Sir William Howe to himself。 〃I was

about to leave this wretched old creature to starve or beg。 Take this;

good Mistress Dudley;〃 he added; putting a purse into her hands。 〃King

George's head on these golden guineas is sterling yet; and will

continue so; I warrant you; even should the rebels crown John

Hancock their king。 That purse will buy a better shelter than the

Province House can now afford。〃

   〃While the burden of life remains upon me; I will have no other

shelter than this roof;〃 persisted Esther Dudley; striking her staff

upon the floor with a gesture that expressed immovable resolve。 〃And

when your Excellency returns in triumph; I will totter into the

porch to welcome you。〃

   〃My poor old friend!〃 answered the British General… and all his

manly and martial pride could no longer restrain a gush of bitter

tears。 〃This is an evil hour for you and me。 The Province which the

King intrusted to my charge is lost。 I go hence in misfortune…

perchance in disgrace… to return no more。 And you; whose present being

is incorporated with the past… who have seen Governor after

Governor; in stately pageantry; ascend these steps… whose whole life

has been an observance of majestic ceremonies; and a worship of the

King… how will you endure the change? Come with us! Bid farewell to

a land that has shaken off its allegiance; and live still under a

royal government; at Halifax。〃

   〃Never; never!〃 said the pertinacious old dame。 〃Here will I abide;

and King George shall still have one true subject in his disloyal

Province。〃

   〃Beshrew the old fool!〃 muttered Sir William Howe; growing

impatient of her obstinacy; and ashamed of the emotion into which he

had been betrayed。 〃She is the very moral of old…fashioned

prejudice; and could exist nowhere but in this musty edifice。 Well;

then; Mistress Dudley; since you will needs tarry; I give the Province

House in charge to you。 Take this key; and keep it safe until

myself; or some other Royal Governor; shall demand it of you。〃

   Smiling bitterly at himself and her; he took the heavy key of the

Province House; and delivering it into the old lady's hands; drew

his cloak around him for departure。 As the General glanced back at

Esther Dudley's antique figure; he deemed her well fitted for such a

charge; as being so perfect a representative of the decayed past… of

an age gone by; with its manners; opinions; faith and feelings; all

fallen into oblivion or scorn… of what had once been a reality; but

was now merely a vision of faded magnificence。 Then Sir William Howe

strode forth; smiting his clinched hands together; in the fierce

anguish of his spirit; and old Esther Dudley was left to keep watch in

the lonely Province House; dwelling there with memory; and if Hope

ever seemed to flit around her; still was it Memory in disguise。

   The total change of affairs that ensued on the departure of the

British troops did not drive the venerable lady from her stronghold。

There was not; for many years afterwards; a Governor of Massachusetts;

and the magistrates; who had charge of such matters; saw no

objection to Esther Dudley's residence in the Province House;

especially as they must otherwise have paid a hireling for taking care

of the premises; which with her was a labor of love。 And so they

left her the undisturbed mistress of the old historic edifice。 Many

and strange were the fables which the gossips whispered about her;

in all the chimney corners of the town。 Among the time…worn articles

of furniture that had been left in the mansion there was a tall;

antique mirror; which was well worthy of a tale by itself; and perhaps

may hereafter be the theme of one。 The gold of its heavily…wrought

frame was tarnished; and its surface so blurred; that the old

woman's figure; whenever she paused before it; looked indistinct and

ghostlike。 But it was the general belief that Esther could cause the

Governors of the overthrown dynasty; with the beautiful ladies who had

once adorned their festivals; the Indian chiefs who had come up to the

Province House to hold council or swear allegiance; the grim

Provincial warriors; the severe clergymen… in short; all the pageantry

of gone days… all the figures that ever swept across the broad plate

of glass in former times… she could cause the whole to reappear; and

people the inner world of the mirror with shadows of old life。 Such

legends as these; together with the singularity of her isolated

existence; her age; and the infirmity that each added winter flung

upon her; made Mistress Dudley the object both of fear and pity; and

it was partly the result of either sentiment that; amid all the

angry license of the times; neither wrong nor insult ever fell upon

her unprotected head。 Indeed; there was so much haughtiness in her

demeanor towards intruders; among whom she reckoned all persons acting

under the new authorities; that it was really an affair of no small

nerve to look her in the face。 And to do the people justice; stern

republicans as they had now become; they were well content that the

old gentlewoman; in her hoop petticoat and faded embroidery; should

still haunt the palace of ruined pride and overthrown power; the

symbol of a departed system; embodying a history in her person。 So

Esther Dudley dwelt year after year in the Province House; still

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