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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
82
“I
will
lock
the
door
after
you,
Martha.
You
are
not
afraid
to
go,
are
you?”
“No,
ma’am,
not
at
all;
Jem
Hearn
will
be
only
too
proud
to
go
with
me.”
Miss
Matty
drew
herself
up,
and
as
soon
as
we
were
alone,
she
wished
that
Martha
had
more
maidenly
reserve.
“We’ll
put
out
the
candle,
my
dear.
We
can
talk
just
as
well
by
firelight,
you
know.
There!
Well,
you
see,
Deborah
had
gone
from
home
for
a
fortnight
or
so;
it
was
a
very
still,
quiet
day,
I
remember,
overhead;
and
the
lilacs
were
all
in
flower,
so
I
suppose
it
was
spring.
My
father
had
gone
out
to
see
some
sick
people
in
the
parish;
I
recollect
seeing
him
leave
the
house
with
his
wig
and
shovel-hat
and
cane.
What
possessed
our
poor
Peter
I
don’t
know;
he
had
the
sweetest
temper,
and
yet
he
always
seemed
to
like
to
plague
Deborah.
She
never
laughed
at
his
jokes,
and
thought
him
ungenteel,
and
not
careful
enough
about
improving
his
mind;
and
that
vexed
him.
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