Tired of reading? Add this page to your Bookmarks or Favorites and finish it later.
|
|
Such was the state of things when I left Cranford and went to
Drumble. I had, however, several correspondents, who kept me AU
FAIT as to the proceedings of the dear little town. There was Miss
Pole, who was becoming as much absorbed in crochet as she had been
once in knitting, and the burden of whose letter was something
like, "But don't you forget the white worsted at Flint's" of the
old song; for at the end of every sentence of news came a fresh
direction as to some crochet commission which I was to execute for
her. Miss Matilda Jenkyns (who did not mind being called Miss
Matty, when Miss Jenkyns was not by) wrote nice, kind, rambling
letters, now and then venturing into an opinion of her own; but
suddenly pulling herself up, and either begging me not to name what
she had said, as Deborah thought differently, and SHE knew, or else
putting in a postscript to the effect that, since writing the
above, she had been talking over the subject with Deborah, and was
quite convinced that, etc. - (here probably followed a recantation
of every opinion she had given in the letter). Then came Miss
Jenkyns - Deborah, as she liked Miss Matty to call her, her father
having once said that the Hebrew name ought to be so pronounced. I
secretly think she took the Hebrew prophetess for a model in
character; and, indeed, she was not unlike the stern prophetess in
some ways, making allowance, of course, for modern customs and
difference in dress. Miss Jenkyns wore a cravat, and a little
bonnet like a jockey-cap, and altogether had the appearance of a
strong-minded woman; although she would have despised the modern
idea of women being equal to men. Equal, indeed! she knew they
were superior. But to return to her letters. Everything in them
was stately and grand like herself. I have been looking them over
(dear Miss Jenkyns, how I honoured her!) and I will give an
extract, more especially because it relates to our friend Captain
Brown:-
"The Honourable Mrs Jamieson has only just quitted me; and, in the
course of conversation, she communicated to me the intelligence
that she had yesterday received a call from her revered husband's
quondam friend, Lord Mauleverer. You will not easily conjecture
what brought his lordship within the precincts of our little town.
It was to see Captain Brown, with whom, it appears, his lordship
was acquainted in the 'plumed wars,' and who had the privilege of
averting destruction from his lordship's head when some great peril
was impending over it, off the misnomered Cape of Good Hope. You
know our friend the Honourable Mrs Jamieson's deficiency in the
spirit of innocent curiosity, and you will therefore not be so much
surprised when I tell you she was quite unable to disclose to me
the exact nature of the peril in question. I was anxious, I
confess, to ascertain in what manner Captain Brown, with his
limited establishment, could receive so distinguished a guest; and
I discovered that his lordship retired to rest, and, let us hope,
to refreshing slumbers, at the Angel Hotel; but shared the
Brunonian meals during the two days that he honoured Cranford with
his august presence. Mrs Johnson, our civil butcher's wife,
informs me that Miss Jessie purchased a leg of lamb; but, besides
this, I can hear of no preparation whatever to give a suitable
reception to so distinguished a visitor. Perhaps they entertained
him with 'the feast of reason and the flow of soul'; and to us, who
are acquainted with Captain Brown's sad want of relish for 'the
pure wells of English undefiled,' it may be matter for
congratulation that he has had the opportunity of improving his
taste by holding converse with an elegant and refined member of the
British aristocracy. But from some mundane failings who is
altogether free?"
|