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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
196
I
never
saw
a
man’s
countenance
fall
so
suddenly
into
dismay
and
bewilderment.
It
was
almost
piteous
to
see
the
rapid
change.
“Dang
it!”
said
he,
striking
his
fist
down
on
the
table,
as
if
to
try
which
was
the
harder,
“the
chap
talks
as
if
notes
and
gold
were
to
be
had
for
the
picking
up.”
Miss
Matty
had
forgotten
her
silk
gown
in
her
interest
for
the
man.
I
don’t
think
she
had
caught
the
name
of
the
bank,
and
in
my
nervous
cowardice
I
was
anxious
that
she
should
not;
and
so
I
began
admiring
the
yellow-spotted
lilac
gown
that
I
had
been
utterly
condemning
only
a
minute
before.
But
it
was
of
no
use.
“What
bank
was
it?
I
mean,
what
bank
did
your
note
belong
to?”
“Town
and
County
Bank.”
“Let
me
see
it,”
said
she
quietly
to
the
shopman,
gently
taking
it
out
of
his
hand,
as
he
brought
it
back
to
return
it
to
the
farmer.
Mr
Johnson
was
very
sorry,
but,
from
information
he
had
received,
the
notes
issued
by
that
bank
were
little
better
than
waste
paper.
“I
don’t
understand
it,”
said
Miss
Matty
to
me
in
a
low
voice.
“That
is
our
bank,
is
it
not?—
the
Town
and
County
Bank?”
“Yes,”
said
I.
“This
lilac
silk
will
just
match
the
ribbons
in
your
new
cap,
I
believe,”
I
continued,
holding
up
the
folds
so
as
to
catch
the
light,
and
wishing
that
the
man
would
make
haste
and
be
gone,
and
yet
having
a
new
wonder,
that
had
only
just
sprung
up,
how
far
it
was
wise
or
right
in
me
to
allow
Miss
Matty
to
make
this
expensive
purchase,
if
the
affairs
of
the
bank
were
really
so
bad
as
the
refusal
of
the
note
implied.
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