What Miss Matty, or, as
Mrs Forrester called her (remembering the clause in her will and
the dignity of the occasion), Miss Matilda Jenkyns--might choose to
do with the receipt when it came into her possession--whether to
make it public, or to hand it down as an heirloom--she did not
know, nor would she dictate. And a mould of this admirable,
digestible, unique bread-jelly was sent by Mrs Forrester to our
poor sick conjuror. Who says that the aristocracy are proud? Here
was a lady by birth a Tyrrell, and descended from the great Sir
Walter that shot King Rufus, and in whose veins ran the blood of
him who murdered the little princes in the Tower, going every day
to see what dainty dishes she could prepare for Samuel Brown, a
mountebank! But, indeed, it was wonderful to see what kind
feelings were called out by this poor man's coming amongst us. And
also wonderful to see how the great Cranford panic, which had been
occasioned by his first coming in his Turkish dress, melted away
into thin air on his second coming--pale and feeble, and with his
heavy, filmy eyes, that only brightened a very little when they
fell upon the countenance of his faithful wife, or their pale and
sorrowful little girl.
Somehow we all forgot to be afraid. I daresay it was that finding
out that he, who had first excited our love of the marvellous by
his unprecedented arts, had not sufficient every-day gifts to
manage a shying horse, made us feel as if we were ourselves again.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189