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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
112
When
she
did
understand
the
drift
of
the
honourable
lady’s
call,
it
was
pretty
to
see
with
what
quiet
dignity
she
received
the
intimation
thus
uncourteously
given.
She
was
not
in
the
least
hurt—
she
was
of
too
gentle
a
spirit
for
that;
nor
was
she
exactly
conscious
of
disapproving
of
Mrs
Jamieson’s
conduct;
but
there
was
something
of
this
feeling
in
her
mind,
I
am
sure,
which
made
her
pass
from
the
subject
to
others
in
a
less
flurried
and
more
composed
manner
than
usual.
Mrs
Jamieson
was,
indeed,
the
more
flurried
of
the
two,
and
I
could
see
she
was
glad
to
take
her
leave.
A
little
while
afterwards
Miss
Pole
returned,
red
and
indignant.
“Well!
to
be
sure!
You’ve
had
Mrs
Jamieson
here,
I
find
from
Martha;
and
we
are
not
to
call
on
Lady
Glenmire.
Yes!
I
met
Mrs
Jamieson,
half-way
between
here
and
Mrs
Forrester’s,
and
she
told
me;
she
took
me
so
by
surprise,
I
had
nothing
to
say.
I
wish
I
had
thought
of
something
very
sharp
and
sarcastic;
I
dare
say
I
shall
to-night.
And
Lady
Glenmire
is
but
the
widow
of
a
Scotch
baron
after
all!
I
went
on
to
look
at
Mrs
Forrester’s
Peerage,
to
see
who
this
lady
was,
that
is
to
be
kept
under
a
glass
case:
widow
of
a
Scotch
peer—
never
sat
in
the
House
of
Lords—
and
as
poor
as
Job,
I
dare
say;
and
she—
fifth
daughter
of
some
Mr
Campbell
or
other.
You
are
the
daughter
of
a
rector,
at
any
rate,
and
related
to
the
Arleys;
and
Sir
Peter
might
have
been
Viscount
Arley,
every
one
says.”
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