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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
145
“But,”
said
Miss
Matty,
“what
has
alarmed
you
so
much?
Have
you
seen
any
men
lurking
about
the
house?”
“Oh,
yes!”
answered
Miss
Pole.
“Two
very
bad-looking
men
have
gone
three
times
past
the
house,
very
slowly;
and
an
Irish
beggar-woman
came
not
half-an-hour
ago,
and
all
but
forced
herself
in
past
Betty,
saying
her
children
were
starving,
and
she
must
speak
to
the
mistress.
You
see,
she
said
‘mistress,’
though
there
was
a
hat
hanging
up
in
the
hall,
and
it
would
have
been
more
natural
to
have
said
‘master.’
But
Betty
shut
the
door
in
her
face,
and
came
up
to
me,
and
we
got
the
spoons
together,
and
sat
in
the
parlour-window
watching
till
we
saw
Thomas
Jones
going
from
his
work,
when
we
called
to
him
and
asked
him
to
take
care
of
us
into
the
town.”
We
might
have
triumphed
over
Miss
Pole,
who
had
professed
such
bravery
until
she
was
frightened;
but
we
were
too
glad
to
perceive
that
she
shared
in
the
weaknesses
of
humanity
to
exult
over
her;
and
I
gave
up
my
room
to
her
very
willingly,
and
shared
Miss
Matty’s
bed
for
the
night.
But
before
we
retired,
the
two
ladies
rummaged
up,
out
of
the
recesses
of
their
memory,
such
horrid
stories
of
robbery
and
murder
that
I
quite
quaked
in
my
shoes.
Miss
Pole
was
evidently
anxious
to
prove
that
such
terrible
events
had
occurred
within
her
experience
that
she
was
justified
in
her
sudden
panic;
and
Miss
Matty
did
not
like
to
be
outdone,
and
capped
every
story
with
one
yet
more
horrible,
till
it
reminded
me
oddly
enough,
of
an
old
story
I
had
read
somewhere,
of
a
nightingale
and
a
musician,
who
strove
one
against
the
other
which
could
produce
the
most
admirable
music,
till
poor
Philomel
dropped
down
dead.
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