And when I came to the writing I could hardly understand the
meaning, it was so involved and oracular. I made out, however,
that I was to go to Miss Pole's at eleven o'clock; the number
ELEVEN being written in full length as well as in numerals, and
A.M. twice dashed under, as if I were very likely to come at eleven
at night, when all Cranford was usually a-bed and asleep by ten.
There was no signature except Miss Pole's initials reversed, P.E.;
but as Martha had given me the note, "with Miss Pole's kind
regards," it needed no wizard to find out who sent it; and if the
writer's name was to be kept secret, it was very well that I was
alone when Martha delivered it.
I went as requested to Miss Pole's. The door was opened to me by
her little maid Lizzy in Sunday trim, as if some grand event was
impending over this work-day. And the drawing-room upstairs was
arranged in accordance with this idea. The table was set out with
the best green card-cloth, and writing materials upon it. On the
little chiffonier was a tray with a newly-decanted bottle of
cowslip wine, and some ladies'-finger biscuits. Miss Pole herself
was in solemn array, as if to receive visitors, although it was
only eleven o'clock. Mrs Forrester was there, crying quietly and
sadly, and my arrival seemed only to call forth fresh tears.
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