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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
35
Just
then
Miss
Matty,
who
had
been
out
all
the
morning,
and
had
only
lately
returned
to
the
house,
burst
in
with
a
face
of
dismay
and
outraged
propriety.
“Oh,
goodness
me!”
she
said.
“Deborah,
there’s
a
gentleman
sitting
in
the
drawing-room
with
his
arm
round
Miss
Jessie’s
waist!”
Miss
Matty’s
eyes
looked
large
with
terror.
[Picture:
“With
his
arm
around
Miss
Jessie’s
waist!”]
Miss
Jenkyns
snubbed
her
down
in
an
instant.
“The
most
proper
place
in
the
world
for
his
arm
to
be
in.
Go
away,
Matilda,
and
mind
your
own
business.”
This
from
her
sister,
who
had
hitherto
been
a
model
of
feminine
decorum,
was
a
blow
for
poor
Miss
Matty,
and
with
a
double
shock
she
left
the
room.
The
last
time
I
ever
saw
poor
Miss
Jenkyns
was
many
years
after
this.
Mrs
Gordon
had
kept
up
a
warm
and
affectionate
intercourse
with
all
at
Cranford.
Miss
Jenkyns,
Miss
Matty,
and
Miss
Pole
had
all
been
to
visit
her,
and
returned
with
wonderful
accounts
of
her
house,
her
husband,
her
dress,
and
her
looks.
For,
with
happiness,
something
of
her
early
bloom
returned;
she
had
been
a
year
or
two
younger
than
we
had
taken
her
for.
Her
eyes
were
always
lovely,
and,
as
Mrs
Gordon,
her
dimples
were
not
out
of
place.
At
the
time
to
which
I
have
referred,
when
I
last
saw
Miss
Jenkyns,
that
lady
was
old
and
feeble,
and
had
lost
something
of
her
strong
mind.
Little
Flora
Gordon
was
staying
with
the
Misses
Jenkyns,
and
when
I
came
in
she
was
reading
aloud
to
Miss
Jenkyns,
who
lay
feeble
and
changed
on
the
sofa.
Flora
put
down
the
Rambler
when
I
came
in.
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