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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
159
In
spite
of
the
uncomfortable
feeling
which
this
last
consideration
gave
me,
I
could
not
help
being
amused
at
Jenny’s
position,
which
was
exceedingly
like
that
of
a
witness
being
examined
and
cross-examined
by
two
counsel
who
are
not
at
all
scrupulous
about
asking
leading
questions.
The
conclusion
I
arrived
at
was,
that
Jenny
had
certainly
seen
something
beyond
what
a
fit
of
indigestion
would
have
caused.
A
lady
all
in
white,
and
without
her
head,
was
what
she
deposed
and
adhered
to,
supported
by
a
consciousness
of
the
secret
sympathy
of
her
mistress
under
the
withering
scorn
with
which
Miss
Pole
regarded
her.
And
not
only
she,
but
many
others,
had
seen
this
headless
lady,
who
sat
by
the
roadside
wringing
her
hands
as
in
deep
grief.
Mrs
Forrester
looked
at
us
from
time
to
time
with
an
air
of
conscious
triumph;
but
then
she
had
not
to
pass
through
Darkness
Lane
before
she
could
bury
herself
beneath
her
own
familiar
bed-clothes.
We
preserved
a
discreet
silence
as
to
the
headless
lady
while
we
were
putting
on
our
things
to
go
home,
for
there
was
no
knowing
how
near
the
ghostly
head
and
ears
might
be,
or
what
spiritual
connection
they
might
be
keeping
up
with
the
unhappy
body
in
Darkness
Lane;
and,
therefore,
even
Miss
Pole
felt
that
it
was
as
well
not
to
speak
lightly
on
such
subjects,
for
fear
of
vexing
or
insulting
that
woebegone
trunk.
At
least,
so
I
conjecture;
for,
instead
of
the
busy
clatter
usual
in
the
operation,
we
tied
on
our
cloaks
as
sadly
as
mutes
at
a
funeral.
Miss
Matty
drew
the
curtains
round
the
windows
of
the
chair
to
shut
out
disagreeable
sights,
and
the
men
(either
because
they
were
in
spirits
that
their
labours
were
so
nearly
ended,
or
because
they
were
going
down
hill),
set
off
at
such
a
round
and
merry
pace,
that
it
was
all
Miss
Pole
and
I
could
do
to
keep
up
with
them.
She
had
breath
for
nothing
beyond
an
imploring
“Don’t
leave
me!”
uttered
as
she
clutched
my
arm
so
tightly
that
I
could
not
have
quitted
her,
ghost
or
no
ghost.
What
a
relief
it
was
when
the
men,
weary
of
their
burden
and
their
quick
trot,
stopped
just
where
Headingley
Causeway
branches
off
from
Darkness
Lane!
Miss
Pole
unloosed
me
and
caught
at
one
of
the
men—
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