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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
70
It
was
pretty
to
see
from
the
letters,
which
were
evidently
exchanged
with
some
frequency
between
the
young
mother
and
the
grandmother,
how
the
girlish
vanity
was
being
weeded
out
of
her
heart
by
love
for
her
baby.
The
white
“Paduasoy”
figured
again
in
the
letters,
with
almost
as
much
vigour
as
before.
In
one,
it
was
being
made
into
a
christening
cloak
for
the
baby.
It
decked
it
when
it
went
with
its
parents
to
spend
a
day
or
two
at
Arley
Hall.
It
added
to
its
charms,
when
it
was
“the
prettiest
little
baby
that
ever
was
seen.
Dear
mother,
I
wish
you
could
see
her!
Without
any
pershality,
I
do
think
she
will
grow
up
a
regular
bewty!”
I
thought
of
Miss
Jenkyns,
grey,
withered,
and
wrinkled,
and
I
wondered
if
her
mother
had
known
her
in
the
courts
of
heaven:
and
then
I
knew
that
she
had,
and
that
they
stood
there
in
angelic
guise.
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