Cranford | Page 9

to
see their thoughtfulness." The tears now came back and overflowed;
but after a minute or two she began to scold herself, and ended by
going away the same cheerful Miss Jessie as ever.
"But why does not this Lord Mauleverer do something for the man who
saved his life?" said I.
"Why, you see, unless Captain Brown has some reason for it, he never
speaks about being poor; and he walked along by his lordship looking
as happy and cheerful as a prince; and as they never called attention to
their dinner by apologies, and as Miss Brown was better that day, and

all seemed bright, I daresay his lordship never knew how much care
there was in the background. He did send game in the winter pretty
often, but now he is gone abroad."
I had often occasion to notice the use that was made of fragments and
small opportunities in Cranford; the rose-leaves that were gathered ere
they fell to make into a potpourri for someone who had no garden; the
little bundles of lavender flowers sent to strew the drawers of some
town-dweller, or to burn in the chamber of some invalid. Things that
many would despise, and actions which it seemed scarcely worth while
to perform, were all attended to in Cranford. Miss Jenkyns stuck an
apple full of cloves, to be heated and smell pleasantly in Miss Brown's
room; and as she put in each clove she uttered a Johnsonian sentence.
Indeed, she never could think of the Browns without talking Johnson;
and, as they were seldom absent from her thoughts just then, I heard
many a rolling, three-piled sentence.
Captain Brown called one day to thank Mist Jenkyns for many little
kindnesses, which I did not know until then that she had rendered. He
had suddenly become like an old man; his deep bass voice had a
quavering in it, his eyes looked dim, and the lines on his face were deep.
He did not--could not--speak cheerfully of his daughter's state, but he
talked with manly, pious resignation, and not much. Twice over he said,
"What Jessie has been to us, God only knows!" and after the second
time, he got up hastily, shook hands all round without speaking, and
left the room.
That afternoon we perceived little groups in the street, all listening with
faces aghast to some tale or other. Miss Jenkyns wondered what could
be the matter for some time before she took the undignified step of
sending Jenny out to inquire.
Jenny came back with a white face of terror. "Oh, ma'am! Oh, Miss
Jenkyns, ma'am! Captain Brown is killed by them nasty cruel
railroads!" and she burst into tears. She, along with many others, had
experienced the poor Captain's kindness.
"How?--where--where? Good God! Jenny, don't waste time in crying,
but tell us something." Miss Matty rushed out into the street at once,
and collared the man who was telling the tale.
"Come in--come to my sister at once, Miss Jenkyns, the rector's
daughter. Oh, man, man! say it is not true," she cried, as she brought

the affrighted carter, sleeking down his hair, into the drawing-room,
where he stood with his wet boots on the new carpet, and no one
regarded it.
"Please, mum, it is true. I seed it myself," and he shuddered at the
recollection. "The Captain was a-reading some new book as he was
deep in, a-waiting for the down train; and there was a little lass as
wanted to come to its mammy, and gave its sister the slip, and came
toddling across the line. And he looked up sudden, at the sound of the
train coming, and seed the child, and he darted on the line and cotched
it up, and his foot slipped, and the train came over him in no time. O
Lord, Lord! Mum, it's quite true, and they've come over to tell his
daughters. The child's safe, though, with only a bang on its shoulder as
he threw it to its mammy. Poor Captain would be glad of that, mum,
wouldn't he? God bless him!" The great rough carter puckered up his
manly face, and turned away to hide his tears. I turned to Miss Jenkyns.
She looked very ill, as if she were going to faint, and signed to me to
open the window.
"Matilda, bring me my bonnet. I must go to those girls. God pardon me,
if ever I have spoken contemptuously to the Captain!"
Miss Jenkyns arrayed herself to go out, telling Miss Matilda to give the
man a glass of wine. While she was away, Miss Matty and I huddled
over the fire, talking in a low and awe-struck voice. I know we cried
quietly all the time.
Miss Jenkyns came home in a silent mood,