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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
111
“And
will
you
just
step
in
here,
dear
Miss
Pole,
as
you
come
back,
please,
and
tell
me
what
you
decide
upon?
Whatever
you
and
Mrs
Forrester
fix
upon,
will
be
quite
right,
I’m
sure.
‘Lady
Arley,’
‘Sir
Peter,’”
said
Miss
Matty
to
herself,
trying
to
recall
the
old
forms
of
words.
“Who
is
Lady
Glenmire?”
asked
I.
“Oh,
she’s
the
widow
of
Mr
Jamieson—
that’s
Mrs
Jamieson’s
late
husband,
you
know—
widow
of
his
eldest
brother.
Mrs
Jamieson
was
a
Miss
Walker,
daughter
of
Governor
Walker.
‘Your
ladyship.’
My
dear,
if
they
fix
on
that
way
of
speaking,
you
must
just
let
me
practice
a
little
on
you
first,
for
I
shall
feel
so
foolish
and
hot
saying
it
the
first
time
to
Lady
Glenmire.”
It
was
really
a
relief
to
Miss
Matty
when
Mrs
Jamieson
came
on
a
very
unpolite
errand.
I
notice
that
apathetic
people
have
more
quiet
impertinence
than
others;
and
Mrs
Jamieson
came
now
to
insinuate
pretty
plainly
that
she
did
not
particularly
wish
that
the
Cranford
ladies
should
call
upon
her
sister-in-law.
I
can
hardly
say
how
she
made
this
clear;
for
I
grew
very
indignant
and
warm,
while
with
slow
deliberation
she
was
explaining
her
wishes
to
Miss
Matty,
who,
a
true
lady
herself,
could
hardly
understand
the
feeling
which
made
Mrs
Jamieson
wish
to
appear
to
her
noble
sister-in-law
as
if
she
only
visited
“county”
families.
Miss
Matty
remained
puzzled
and
perplexed
long
after
I
had
found
out
the
object
of
Mrs
Jamieson’s
visit.
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