The Evidence that Lies

Tanayer Pegues

As she looks around, the voice of Mrs. Peters’ roused her.

“Here’s a bird-cage,” Mrs. Peters said. “Did she have a bird, Mrs. Hale?”

“Why, I don’t know whether she did or not” She turned to look at the cage Mrs. Peter was holding up, “I’ve not been here in so long.” Her guilt starts to rise, the thought of not seeing Mrs. Wright started to haunt her the more she is at the Wrights house. She began to sulk in and let out a huge sigh. “There was a man round last year selling canaries cheap—but I don’t know if Mrs. Wright took one. Maybe she did. Mrs. Wright used to sing real pretty herself”

“Seems kind of funny to think of a bird here” Laughed Mrs. Peters. “But she must have had one–or why would she have a cage”

“I suppose maybe the cat got it,” She suggested, still sulking in her dreadful thoughts.

“No, she didn’t have a cat. She’s got that feeling some people have about cats—being afraid of them. When they brought her to our house yesterday, my cat got in the room, and she was real upset and asked me to take it out.”

“My sister Bessie was like that”, laughed Mrs. Hale. She was trying to find any reason to make herself feel at ease about not seeing Mrs. Wright; looking for any connection to feel as though some how her being there now was “being there” for Mrs. Wright.

With a sudden silence of Mrs. Peter, she turned as asked “What wrong?”

“Look at the door,” said Mrs. Peter. “It’s broke. One hinge has been pulled apart”

She came near to examine it herself and says “Looks as if someone must have been—rough with it.”

As their eyes met–she could tell Mrs. Peters was questioning what has just been discovered. She felt a startled feeling that was mutual to the feeling Mrs. Peter was giving off. All of a sudden a chill ran down her spine which caused her to turn away, she said brusquely:

“If they’re going to find any evidence, I wish they’d be about it. I don’t like this place”

The guilt started to eat at her again as she says “But I tell you what I do wish, Mrs. Peters. I wish I had come over sometimes when she was here. I wish—I had.”

“But of course you were awful busy, Mrs. Hale. Your house — and your children.”

She ignored the comfort Mrs. Peters tried to give her and replied:

“I could’ve come, I stayed away because it weren’t cheerful- – and that’s why I ought to have come. I” – – she looked around – – “I’ve never liked this place. Maybe because it’s down in a hollow and you don’t see the road. I don’t know what it is, but it’s a lonesome place, and always was. I wish I had come over to see Minnie Foster sometimes. I can see now”– She did not put into words.

“Well, you mustn’t reproach yourself,” counseled Mrs. Peters. “Somehow, we just don’t see how it is with other folk’s till– something comes up”

“Not having children makes less work,” she said, after a silence, “but it makes a quiet house– and Wright out to work all day –and no company when he did come in. Did you know John Wright, Mrs. Peters?”

“Not to know him. I’ve seen him in town. They say he was a good man.” Said Mrs. Peters.

“Yes– good, he didn’t drink, and kept his word as well as most, I guess, and paid his debts. But he was a hard man, Mrs. Peters. Just to pass the time of day with him –.” She stopped, shivered a little. “Like a raw wind that gets to the bone.” Her eye fell upon the cage on the table before her, and she added, almost bitterly: “I should think she would’ve wanted a bird!”

Suddenly she leaned forward, looking intently at the cage. “But what do you s’pose went wrong with it?”

“I don’t know,” returned Mrs. Peters; “unless it got sick and died.”

“You didn’t know – – her?” she asked, a gentler note in her voice.

“Not till they brought her yesterday,” said the sheriffs wife.

“She– come to think of it, she was kind of like a bird herself, real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid and — fluttery. How — she — did — change.”

That held her for a long time. Finally, as if struck with a happy thought and relieved to get back to everyday things, she exclaimed:

“Tell you what, Mrs. Peters, why don’t you take a quilt in with you? It might take up her mind”

“Why, I think that’s a real nice idea, Mrs. Hale, there couldn’t possibly be any objection to that could there? Now just what will I take? I wonder if her patches are in here — and her things.” Said Mrs. Peters.

She and Mrs. Peters turned to the sewing basket.

“Here’s some red,” she said, bringing out a roll of cloth, underneath that was a box. “Here, maybe her scissors are in here–and her things.” She held it up. “What a pretty box! I’ll warrant that was something she had a long time ago — when she was a girl.”

She held it in her hand a moment; then, with a little sigh, opened it.

Instantly her hand went to her nose.

“Why- !”

Mrs. Peters drew nearer – – then turned away.

“There’s something wrapped up in this piece of silk,” she faltered.

“This isn’t her scissors,” said Mrs. Peters, in a shrinking voice.

Her hand not steady, she raised the piece of silk. “Oh, Mrs. Peters!” she cried “It’s-“

Mrs. Peters bent closer and said “It’s the bird.”

“But, Mrs. Peters!” she cried. “Look at its neck! It’s all –other side to.” She whispered to herself “Dear Lord, who could have done this. Oh, please don’t let this be the work of Minnie” Her thoughts start to race as she went from thinking it was impossible for Mrs. Wright to commit a crime, to maybe she do this horrible crime. Her thoughts were quickly broken by the sudden movement of Mrs. Peters towards the box. She held the box away from her.

The sheriff’s wife again bent closer.

“Somebody wrung its neck,” said Mrs. Peters.

And then again the eyes of the two women met – this time clung together in a look of dawning comprehension, of growing horror. She watched as Mrs. Peters looked from the dead bird to the broken door of the cage. Again their eyes met. And just then there was a sound at the outside door.

“Well ladies,” said the county attorney, as one turning from serious things to little pleasantries, “Have you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it?”

“We think,” began Mrs. Peters in a flurried voice, “that she was going to — knot it.”

“Well, that’s very interesting, I’m sure,” he said tolerantly. He caught sight of the bird-cage. “Has the bird flown?”

“We think the cat got it,” said she in a voice curiously even.

“Is there a cat?” he asked absently.

She shot a look up at the sheriff’s wife.

“Well, not now,” said Mrs. Peters. “They’re superstitious, you know; they leave.”

Mrs. Hale sank into her chair.

“No sign at all of any one having come in from the outside,” he said to Mrs. Peters, in the manner of continuing an interrupted conversation. “Their own rope. Now let’s go back upstairs again and go over it, piece by piece. It would have to have been someone who knew just the –.”

The stair door closed behind the men and their voices were lost.

The two women sat motionless, not looking at each other, but as if peering into something and at the same time holding back.

She said “Mrs. Peters, what we have discovered doesn’t prove anything. We only know that something horrible has happened to that bird.” She starred into space with a deranged look, as though she was trying to convince herself and Mrs. Peters that Mrs. Wright couldn’t possibly hurt the bird.

“So what are you saying? We shouldn’t tell the men about what we found?” asked Mrs. Peters.

“I’m saying since we are not sure ourselves, we should just keep it to ourselves.”

Which title sounds better, A Jury of Her Peers or The Evidence that Lies?  The short story I have chosen to retell is A Jury of Her Peers by Susan Glaspell. My reasoning for choosing this story mostly relies on the suspense I felt from reading it and the mystery of not knowing whether Mrs. Wright committed the crime or not. Thus, it’s my turn to possibly change the outcome or the thoughts on whether Mrs. Wright is guilty or not. Third person-omniscient narration is used to tell the story of to tell the original version; I will use third person- limited narration to tell my version, The Evidence that Lies, to give more focus on the character who knows Mrs. Wright better than the others, which is Mrs. Hale.

In the original version of A Jury of Her Peers the author tells the story from point of view of knowing it all. She expresses the feelings and views of every character by explaining how a character feels after they have spoken. This allows the readers to see the story from every angle, therefore we can see what each person thinks about Mrs. Wright and the murder of her husband. She portrayed the men as being bias by statements like: “Well, can you beat the women! Held for murder, and worrying about her preserves!”’, as said by Mr. Peters or “The young attorney set his lips. ‘I guess before we’re through with her she may have something more serious than preserves to worry about.’”  It can be assumed that they think Mrs. Wright is guilty of murder without gathering all the evidence that will convict her. The technique of using third person- omniscient narration sort of swayed the story in the favor that Mrs. Wright is guilty due to the fact that more people (all the men) thought she was guilty. This differs from my version in the way that the women (mainly Mrs. Hale) point of view is shown more.

In my version, The Evidence that Lies, I chose to use the scene where the women find the bird cage and the dead bird. This scene was important to me because this was the most important evidence that the men missed. The women two pieces of evidence that could have possibly proved Mrs. Wright guilty, gave her motive or suggest that the Wright household was far more complex then everyone thought. I decided to make Mrs. Hale the focus of my third person- limited narration. It was obvious to choose her because she knew Mrs. Wright more than any person that walked into the Wrights home. In my version I used the words “she” a lot and “her” to express that Mrs. Hale was the focus of my narration; with the adding of her feelings and thoughts I gave the story insight on how she felt through this process of looking for evidence.

For my process of editing my scene of the bird cage, I took out any statements from the original version that would talk about how the other characters felt. This was significant for me because my point of doing the retelling was to get away from all the other characters and focus on one. “But I’m awful glad you came with me, Mrs. Hale.” Mrs. Peters put the bird cage on the table and sat down. ‘It would be lonesome for me – sitting here alone.’”; in contrast to my version where I made everything about Mrs. Hale. ‘“I suppose maybe the cat got it,” She suggested, still sulking in her dreadful thoughts’. In the original version the statement Mrs. Peters made was in there to show how she felt about coming to the house, but I decide that was not relevant to my version because it was not Mrs. Hale feelings.

The end of my version is close to the end of the original version in the sense that, my version leaves you with a thought of “How did they prove she was guilty if that evidence wasn’t submitted?” In the original version at the end of the story the evidence of the bird and bird cage was withheld from men, which I chose to do with my version. I decide to still keep the same suspense that the original version gave me when I found out the men weren’t going to see the bird.  My version ended with “So what are you saying? We shouldn’t tell the men about what we found?” asked Mrs. Peters. ‘I’m saying since we are not sure ourselves, we should just keep it to ourselves.’ By having Mrs. Hale tell Mrs. Peters to keep it to themselves I made the ending of my version and the original version give out the same feeling.

When writing my version I didn’t want to stray away from the concept of the original version, only because I agreed with the suspenseful route the author took. I just wanted my version to pay more attention to which I thought was the most important character (Mrs. Hale) beside Mrs. Wright. By taking out statements based on the other characters I think really pushed what I was trying to accomplish; just like by the author incorporating the emotions and thoughts of the other characters she was able to let her readers know who felt what. Both versions had the same tone, setting and plot, but I’d say mines gave Susan Glaspell’s version a run for its money.

Overly Affectionate Woman

Urgyen

The most bewildered occupation I ever had was a housekeeping job at John and Madison’s rented house. John was a physician. He was practical in the extreme, and had no patience with faith. He scoffed openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.  Madison was an obedient, imaginative and soft woman with overall affection from her husband. “Jennie,” called John. “You must very well take care of Madison while we live here for three months. She has nervous breakdown I want her to take rest as much as she can”. Madison looked fabulous when we entered the old mansion. She would listen to him in every step he told her to follow; after all he was a physician. Her brother was a physician too.

John looked worried but confident that he could help cure Madison from the nervous breakdown through his medical partition. Being John’s sister, I would try hard to make them happy. I felt that Madison would recover soon from her nervous breakdown since poor John had tried his every possible option.

All for the benefit of Madison’s fast recovery, John brought Madison to this old mansion in order that she could breathe better air and rest as comfortable as she could. There were some legal issues, the mansion was empty for years and John could rent at a cheap rate. The house was three miles away from the village so the place was quite lonely, standing isolated on the far side of the road. It looked calm but not the calmness that any people would want. For the first few weeks, I had difficulty adjusting to the place as most people usually did.

“Jennie, please follow her schedule in case if she gets carried away on her imaginative things.” said John walking hurriedly towards the door. John had scheduled Madison’s prescription for each hour of the day. He let her exercise, drink tonics, journey, catch more fresh air and never let her do any sort of work specially writing which he thought would pressure her mind with more fancy ideas. John said I am supposed to keep watch on Madison if she ever touches any paper.

There were many rooms for maids and guests on the ground floor, but they chose to take the room on the upper floor, the room is big, airy, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, air and sunshine bountiful. The wallpaper had few scratches; maybe previous landlord’s children must have played around a lot.

John wanted to repaper the wall, but later dropped the idea because they were only going to be here for few months and if he starts, there will be never ending repairs to be done for three months. He said that nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give a way to such fancies.

She felt uncomfortable whenever I entered the room to clean it. When I caught her several times her face changes to flush like a blending style of chameleon. I could see her hand move swiftly to set aside the book. I always look straight forward to grab the book and advice her that it would be detriment for her health.

During the second month, Madison seems physically better. But her eyes looked tired in the morning whenever I serve the breakfast. I could understand that she had not slept well during the night.

Madison always faced the wall that has scratches on it. It seemed like she always meditates on that wall. She does walk around but mostly she concentrate for much longer time as if her soul has been stuck on that fancy wall. When I enter the room in those first weeks, Madison would describe that there’s something unique about that wall.

Most of the time, John would come very late. During the day Madison would never come out of her room for hours. In those first two months, she was collaborating with us, following the schedule set by her husband. Those provisions really improved her physically but not mentally. She seems abandoned from the present world and kept herself sticking her eyes to that wall much longer than usual.

Near the last week of third month, I was busy cleaning up and putting back things where they belong in the first place. We took things up and down to embellish the room, rearrange the position but now it’s time to move everything back to normal position. Madison would never come out of her room. I noticed in the morning that she had scratched the wall little bit.

Although it’s the last day, I heard John scream at the door. “Open the door, my darling!” Madison had locked herself inside. John could not find the key to get inside the room. I walked up the stairs and let John know that I am available for any help. Madison replied in her gentlest voice. “The key is down by the by the front step, under the plantain leaf” John was very nervous and his body was shaking.

We could hear from outside what was going on inside.  She was peeling off all the papers and tearing down whatever she could reach like a cat scratching the couch. John got frustrated looking for some way to break-in. I found the key and he snatched it from my hand. He nervously put the key into the door’s lock, the door hesitated to open, but with a final shove he got through.

“What is the matter?”   he cried. “For God’s sake. What are you doing?” She was still scratching the wall; she looked at John over her shoulder through disheveled hair. John ultimately fainted on the ground. I wondered what had gone through her mind. She was so soft and yet she absorbed everything inside herself.

Although the original short story’s narrator, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Yellow Wallpaper”, convey the hardship of woman, negligence and unworthy love during 20^th century. The protagonist first-person omniscient narrator shows us how she felt when she could not express her feelings that made her fall into much deeper misery in her life.

In my retelling, I used Jennie ‘the sister’ as protagonist and first-person limited narration. The whole theme of the story changes when viewed from another person’s angle and switch to limited narration. Jennie was more in favor of her brother rather understanding a woman’s (sister-in-law) situation.

Gilman narrated the situation of a woman whose husband had loved her as much as she loved him but the way she expressed made the readers felt that she was over powered by her husband in the ways to express her feelings. “The narrator word ‘Then do let us go downstairs, I said, ‘there are such pretty rooms there.’ Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he would go down to the cellar, if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain.”  Under my retelling the story, Jennie has seen her brother as an overly affectionate towards his wife. Here “Jennie, please follow her schedule in case if she gets carried away on her imaginative things.” said John walking hurriedly towards the door.”  She felt that her brother’s wife Madison always stresses herself even though her husband take cares of her well enough.

Next in Gilman’s narration, woman was going through lot of imaginative world. She thinks that the rest of the family was trying to bother her yellow wall paper. She thinks that rests are also studying the pattern like her but only she could find the solution. But in my narration, Jennie would describe her as a person who makes herself sick by sticking her eyes to that worthless wallpaper for hours and hours.

In the end, the woman could able to free herself from the bond which was kind of torture to her. “I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane. And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!” On the other side of narration, Jennie was more worried about her brother who was frustrated and shivering to get inside the door to find out what was going on.