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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
155
But
when
the
evening
came,
Miss
Matty
(for
it
was
she
who
was
voted
into
the
chair,
as
she
had
a
cold),
before
being
shut
down
in
the
sedan,
like
jack-in-a-box,
implored
the
chairmen,
whatever
might
befall,
not
to
run
away
and
leave
her
fastened
up
there,
to
be
murdered;
and
even
after
they
had
promised,
I
saw
her
tighten
her
features
into
the
stern
determination
of
a
martyr,
and
she
gave
me
a
melancholy
and
ominous
shake
of
the
head
through
the
glass.
However,
we
got
there
safely,
only
rather
out
of
breath,
for
it
was
who
could
trot
hardest
through
Darkness
Lane,
and
I
am
afraid
poor
Miss
Matty
was
sadly
jolted.
Mrs
Forrester
had
made
extra
preparations,
in
acknowledgment
of
our
exertion
in
coming
to
see
her
through
such
dangers.
The
usual
forms
of
genteel
ignorance
as
to
what
her
servants
might
send
up
were
all
gone
through;
and
harmony
and
Preference
seemed
likely
to
be
the
order
of
the
evening,
but
for
an
interesting
conversation
that
began
I
don’t
know
how,
but
which
had
relation,
of
course,
to
the
robbers
who
infested
the
neighbourhood
of
Cranford.
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