Scene2
Pokój Mary. Mary jest w łóżku, śpi. Martha wchodzi i zaczyna głośno rozpalać ogień. Mary się budzi ale Martha nie zwraca na to uwagi. Mary patrzy na nią ze złością a potem spogląda przez okno na wrzosowisko.
Mary – What is that?
Martha -That there?
Mary – Yes.
Martha – That’s the moor, (I uchmiechając się zapytała). Do you like it?”
Mary – No, I hate it.
Martha – That’s because you’re (tha’rt) not use to it. It’s too big and bare now. But, I think you (tha’) will like it.
Mary – Do you?
Martha – Yes, I do. I just love it. It’s fair lovely in spring and summer. I wouldn’t live away from the moor for anything.
Mary – You are a strange servant. My Ayah in India never spoke much.
Martha – Eh! I know that I am. I’m too common and I talk too much (Yorkshire). My name’s Martha.
Mary – Are you going to be my servant?
Martha – I’m Mrs Medlock’s servant. But I’m to do the housemaid’s work up here and wait on you a bit. But you won’t need much waiting on.
MARY: Who is going to dress me?
MARTHA: Can’t you dress yourself?
MARY: No! I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course.
MARTHA: Well, it’s time you (tha’) should learn. It’ll do you good. My mother always said she couldn’t see why grand people’s children didn’t turn out fair fools—what with being washed and dressed and took out to walks as if they were puppies!
MARY: It is different in India.
MARTHA: Eh! I can see it’s different. I dare say it’s because there’s such a lot of blacks there instead of respectable white people. When I heard you were coming from India I thought you were a black too.
Mary stanęła i widać było, że jest mocno podirytowana
Mary – What! What! You thought I was a native. You—you daughter of a pig!
MARTHA: Who are you calling names? Eh, you mustn’t be so vexed. That’s not the way for a young lady to talk. I’ve nothing against the blacks. When you read about them they’re always very religious. But, I’ve never seen a black.
Mary – You thought I was a native! You dared! You don’t know anything about natives! They are not people—they’re servants who must salaam to you. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything! Zaczyna płakać
Martha – Eh! you mustn’t cry like that there! I don’t know anything about anything—just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss. Do stop crying!
Narrator – There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer speech and sturdy way which had a good effect on Mary. She gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.
Martha – It’s time for you (thee) to get up now for your breakfast and tea. I’ll help you (thee) on with your (thy) clothes if you’ll (tha’ll) get out of bed.
(MARTHA trzyma w ręku sukienkę i płaszczyk)
MARY: Those are not mine. Mine are black. Patrzy n ate ubrania Those are nicer than mine.
MARTHA: Mr. Craven ordered Mrs. Medlock to get them in London. He said he wouldn’t have an orphaned child dressed in black wandering about like a lost soul, making the place sadder than it already is.
MARY: I hate black.
Narrator – The dressing process was one which taught them both something. Martha had „buttoned up” her little sisters and brothers but she had never seen a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for her as if she had neither hands nor feet of her own.
Martha – Why don’t you put on your’ own shoes? Mary wyciągneła nogi w jej kierunku
Mary – My Ayah did it. It was the custom.
Narrator – Mary said that very often—”It was the custom.” The native servants were always saying it. If one told them to do a thing their ancestors had not done for a thousand years they gazed at one mildly and said, „It is not the custom” and one knew that was the end of the matter.
MARTHA: Come now, eat your porridge.
MARY: I don’t want it.
MARTHA: Tha’ doesn’t want it!
MARY: No.
MARTHA: Tha’ doesn’t know how good it is. Put a bit of sugar on it.
MARY: I don’t want it!
MARTHA: I can’t abide to see good victuals go to waste. If my brothers and sisters were at this table they’d clean it in bare in five minutes.
MARY: Why?
MARTHA: Because they hardly ever had their stomachs full in their lives! They’re as hungry as young hawks and foxes.
MARY: I don’t know what it is to be hungry.
MARTHA: Well, it would do thee good to try it. Tha’ look so pale and sickly. My word! Don’t I wish my brother Dickon and the rest of them had what’s here.
MARY: Why don’t you take it to them?
MARTHA: It’s not mine. And this isn’t my day out. I get my day out once a month same as the rest. Then I go home and clean up for Mother and give her a day’s rest.
(MARY takes a piece of toast and drinks some tea.)
MARTHA: That’s better than nothing. Now you wrap up warm and run out and play.
MARY: Out? Why should I go out on a day like this?
MARTHA: If tha’ doesn’t go out the’ will have to go in and what has tha’ got to do? Mrs. Medlock bought no books or toys for thee.
MARY: Who will go with me?
MARTHA: You’ll go by yourself. You’ll have to learn to play like other children do when they haven’t got sisters and brothers. Our Dickon goes off on the moor alone and plays for hours. He’s got birds come eat out of his hands.
MARY: I suppose the birds will be different than in India.
MARTHA: Ay, Come, I’ll show thee the way.
(They leave the bedroom area and wind their way towards the gardens. MARTHA points out.) MARTHA: If tha’ goes round that way this’ll come to the gardens. There are lots of flowers in summertime but there’s nothing blooming now. (She hesitates.) One of the gardens is locked up. No one has been in it for ten years.
MARY: Why?
MARTHA: Mr. Craven had it shut when his wife died so sudden. He won’t let no one go inside. It was her garden. He locked the door and dug a hole and buried the key. There’s Mrs. Medlock’s bell ringing—I must run.
(MARTHA exits. MARY begins walking along.)
Narrator – After Martha was gone Mary turned down the walk which led to the door in the shrubbery. She could not help thinking about the garden which no one had been into for ten years.
Narrator – She wondered what it would look like and whether there were any flowers still alive in it. When she had passed through the shrubbery gate she found herself in great gardens, with wide lawns and winding walks with clipped borders.
Narrator – There were trees, and flower-beds, and evergreens clipped into strange shapes, and a large pool with an old gray fountain in its midst. But the flower-beds were bare and wintry and the fountain was not playing. This was not the garden which was shut up. How could a garden be shut up? You could always walk into a garden.
MARY: (To herself:) This place is bare and ugly enough.
Narrator – She was just thinking this when, at the end of the path she a long wall, with ivy growing over it. She was not familiar enough with England to know that she was coming upon the kitchen-gardens where the vegetables and fruit were growing. She went toward the wall and found that there was a green door in the ivy, and that it stood open. This was not the closed garden, evidently, and she could go into it.
(Suddenly BEN WEATHERSTAFF appears, with a spade over his shoulder. They both look startled.)
MARY: What is this place?
BEN: One of the kitchen gardens.
MARY: And what is that?
BEN: Another of them, shortly.
MARY: Can I go in them?
BEN: If you’ likes. But there’s nowt to see.
Narrator – Mary made no response. She went down the path and through the second green door. There, she found more walls and winter vegetables and glass frames, but in the second wall there was another green door and it was not open. Perhaps it led into the garden which no one had seen for ten years.
Narrator – Mary went to the green door and turned the handle. She hoped the door would not open because she wanted to be sure she had found the mysterious garden—but it did open quite easily and she walked through it and found herself in an orchard.
Narrator – She walked back into the first kitchen-garden she had entered and found the old man digging there. She went and stood beside him and watched him a few moments in her cold little way. He took no notice of her and so at last she spoke to him.
MARY: I have been into some of the other gardens.
BEN: There was nothing to prevent you.
MARY: I walked through the orchard.
BEN: There was no dog at the door to bite thee.
MARY: But there was no door into that garden.
BEN: (Stops his digging.) What garden?
MARY: The one on the other side of the wall. There were trees there—I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of them, and he sang.
(BEN stops his digging, and starts to smile. He turns towards the orchard and gives a soft whistle. A ROBIN appear.ROBIN lands near BEN’S feet.
Narrator – Almost the next moment a wonderful thing happened. She heard a soft little rushing flight through the air. And it was the bird with the red breast flying to them, and he actually alighted on the big clod of earth quite near to the gardener’s foot.
BEN: Ah, here you are. Where have you been, you cheeky little beggar? Have you begun that courting this early in the season?
(The ROBIN listens to BEN, and hops around, inspecting for bugs and insects while watching BEN and MARY.)
MARY: Will he always come when you call him?
BEN: Aye. I’ve known him ever since he was a fledgling. He come out of the nest in the other garden, and when first he flew over the wall he was too weak to fly back for a few days and we got friendly.
MARY: What kind of a bird is he?
BEN: Don’t you know? He’s a robin redbreast. The friendliest, the most curious bird alive.
MARY: Where did the rest of the brood fly to?
BEN: There’s no knowing. This one got lonely.
MARY: I’m lonely.
BEN: (He stares at her a moment) Are you the little sickly wench from India?
MARY: Yes.
BEN: Then no wonder you’re lonely. You’ll be lonelier before it’s done.
(BEN begins to work again, while the ROBIN hops about.)
MARY: What is your name?
BEN: Ben Weatherstaff. I’m lonely myself except when he’s with me. (BEN jerks his thumb towards the ROBIN.) He’s the only friend I’ve got.
MARY: I have no friends at all. I never had.
BEN: The robin and I are a good bit alike. We’re neither of us good bookie’ and we’re both of us as sour as we look. We’ve got the same nasty tempers, both of us, I’ll warrant.
(MARY is surprised to hear such plain talk from a servant, but before she can respond, the ROBIN flies near to her and sings a few notes.)
MARY: What did he do that for?
BEN: He’s made up his mind to make friends with you. I bet he has taken a fancy to you.
MARY: To me? (She moves cautiously towards the ROBIN.) Would you make friends with me? Would you?
BEN: Why, it said that as nice and human as if it was a real child instead of a sharp old woman. (The ROBIN sings a few more notes and flies away.)
MARY: He flew over the wall! Over the wall and across that other wall—he flew into the garden where there is no door!
BEN: He lives there. He came out of the egg among the old rose-trees there.
MARY: There are rose-trees?
BEN: (Mumbles🙂 There were ten years ago.
MARY: I should like to see them. Where is the door? There must be one somewhere.
BEN: There was ten years ago but there isn’t now.
MARY: No door! There must be.
BEN: None as anyone can find, and none as is anyone’s business. Don’t you be a meddlesome wench and poke your nose where it’s no cause to go. Here, I must go on with my work. Get you gone. I’ve no more time.”
(BEN throws his spade over his shoulder and stomps off.)