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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
27
“Please,
mum,
it
is
true.
I
seed
it
myself,”
and
he
shuddered
at
the
recollection.
“The
Captain
was
a-reading
some
new
book
as
he
was
deep
in,
a-waiting
for
the
down
train;
and
there
was
a
little
lass
as
wanted
to
come
to
its
mammy,
and
gave
its
sister
the
slip,
and
came
toddling
across
the
line.
And
he
looked
up
sudden,
at
the
sound
of
the
train
coming,
and
seed
the
child,
and
he
darted
on
the
line
and
cotched
it
up,
and
his
foot
slipped,
and
the
train
came
over
him
in
no
time.
O
Lord,
Lord!
Mum,
it’s
quite
true,
and
they’ve
come
over
to
tell
his
daughters.
The
child’s
safe,
though,
with
only
a
bang
on
its
shoulder
as
he
threw
it
to
its
mammy.
Poor
Captain
would
be
glad
of
that,
mum,
wouldn’t
he?
God
bless
him!”
The
great
rough
carter
puckered
up
his
manly
face,
and
turned
away
to
hide
his
tears.
I
turned
to
Miss
Jenkyns.
She
looked
very
ill,
as
if
she
were
going
to
faint,
and
signed
to
me
to
open
the
window.
“Matilda,
bring
me
my
bonnet.
I
must
go
to
those
girls.
God
pardon
me,
if
ever
I
have
spoken
contemptuously
to
the
Captain!”
Miss
Jenkyns
arrayed
herself
to
go
out,
telling
Miss
Matilda
to
give
the
man
a
glass
of
wine.
While
she
was
away,
Miss
Matty
and
I
huddled
over
the
fire,
talking
in
a
low
and
awestruck
voice.
I
know
we
cried
quietly
all
the
time.
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