THE very Tuesday morning on which Mr Johnson was going to show the fashions,
the post-woman brought two letters to the house. I say the post-woman, but I
should say the postman's wife. He was a lame shoemaker, a very clean, honest
man, much respected in the town; but he never brought the letters round except
on unusual occasions, such as Christmas Day or Good Friday; and on those days
the letters, which should have been delivered at eight in the morning, did not
make their appearance until two or three in the afternoon, for every one liked
poor Thomas, and gave him a welcome on these festive occasions. He used to say,
"He was welly stawed wi' eating, for there were three or four houses where nowt
would serve 'em but he must share in their breakfast;" and by the time he had
done his last breakfast, he came to some other friend who was beginning dinner;
but come what might in the way of temptation, Tom was always sober, civil, and
smiling; and, as Miss Jenkyns used to say, it was a lesson in patience, that she
doubted not would call out that precious quality in some minds, where, but for
Thomas, it might have lain dormant and undiscovered. Patience was certainly very
dormant in Miss Jenkyns's mind. She was always expecting letters, and always
drumming on the table till the post-woman had called or gone past. On Christmas
Day and Good Friday she drummed from breakfast till church, from church-time
till two o'clock - unless when the fire wanted stirring, when she invariably
knocked down the fire-irons, and scolded Miss Matty for it. But equally certain
was the hearty welcome and the good dinner for Thomas; Miss Jenkyns standing
over him like a bold dragoon, questioning him as to his children - what they
were doing - what school they went to; upbraiding him if another was likely to
make its appearance, but sending even the little babies the shilling and the
mince-pie which was her gift to all the children, with half-a-crown in addition
for both father and mother. The post was not half of so much consequence to dear
Miss Matty; but not for the world would she have diminished Thomas's welcome and
his dole, though I could see that she felt rather shy over the ceremony, which
had been regarded by Miss Jenkyns as a glorious opportunity for giving advice
and benefiting her fellow-creatures. Miss Matty would steal the money all in a
lump into his hand, as if she were ashamed of herself. Miss Jenkyns gave him
each individual coin separate, with a "There! that's for yourself; that's for
Jenny," etc. Miss Matty would even beckon Martha out of the kitchen while he ate
his food: and once, to my knowledge, winked at its rapid disappearance into a
blue cotton pocket-handkerchief. Miss Jenkyns almost scolded him if he did not
leave a clean plate, however heaped it might have been, and gave an injunction
with every mouthful.
I have wandered a long way from the two letters that awaited us on the
breakfast-table that Tuesday morning. Mine was from my father. Miss Matty's was
printed. My father's was just a man's letter; I mean it was very dull, and gave
no information beyond that he was well, that they had had a good deal of rain,
that trade was very stagnant, and there were many disagreeable rumours afloat.
He then asked me if I knew whether Miss Matty still retained her shares in the
Town and County Bank, as there were very unpleasant reports about it; though
nothing more than he had always foreseen, and had prophesied to Miss Jenkyns
years ago, when she would invest their little property in it - the only unwise
step that clever woman had ever taken, to his knowledge (the only time she ever
acted against his advice, I knew). However, if anything had gone wrong, of
course I was not to think of leaving Miss Matty while I could be of any use,
etc.
"Who is your letter from, my dear? Mine is a very civil invitation, signed
'Edwin Wilson,' asking me to attend an important meeting of the shareholders of
the Town and County Bank, to be held in Drumble, on Thursday the twenty-first. I
am sure, it is very attentive of them to remember me."
I did not like to hear of this "important meeting," for, though I did not
know much about business, I feared it confirmed what my father said: however, I
thought, ill news always came fast enough, so I resolved to say nothing about my
alarm, and merely told her that my father was well, and sent his kind regards to
her. She kept turning over and admiring her letter. At last she spoke -
"I remember their sending one to Deborah just like this; but that I did not
wonder at, for everybody knew she was so clear-headed. I am afraid I could not
help them much; indeed, if they came to accounts, I should be quite in the way,
for I never could do sums in my head. Deborah, I know, rather wished to go, and
went so far as to order a new bonnet for the occasion: but when the time came
she had a bad cold; so they sent her a very polite account of what they had
done. Chosen a director, I think it was. Do you think they want me to help them
to choose a director? I am sure I should choose your father at once!'
"My father has no shares in the bank," said I.
"Oh, no! I remember. He objected very much to Deborah's buying any, I
believe. But she was quite the woman of business, and always judged for herself;
and here, you see, they have paid eight per cent. all these years."
It was a very uncomfortable subject to me, with my half-knowledge; so I
thought I would change the conversation, and I asked at what time she thought we
had better go and see the fashions. "Well, my dear," she said, "the thing is
this: it is not etiquette to go till after twelve; but then, you see, all
Cranford will be there, and one does not like to be too curious about dress and
trimmings and caps with all the world looking on. It is never genteel to be
over-curious on these occasions. Deborah had the knack of always looking as if
the latest fashion was nothing new to her; a manner she had caught from Lady
Arley, who did see all the new modes in London, you know. So I thought we would
just slip down - for I do want this morning, soon after breakfast half-a-pound
of tea - and then we could go up and examine the things at our leisure, and see
exactly how my new silk gown must be made; and then, after twelve, we could go
with our minds disengaged, and free from thoughts of dress."
We began to talk of Miss Matty's new silk gown. I discovered that it would be
really the first time in her life that she had had to choose anything of
consequence for herself: for Miss Jenkyns had always been the more decided
character, whatever her taste might have been; and it is astonishing how such
people carry the world before them by the mere force of will. Miss Matty
anticipated the sight of the glossy folds with as much delight as if the five
sovereigns, set apart for the purchase, could buy all the silks in the shop; and
(remembering my own loss of two hours in a toyshop before I could tell on what
wonder to spend a silver threepence) I was very glad that we were going early,
that dear Miss Matty might have leisure for the delights of perplexity.
If a happy sea-green could be met with, the gown was to be sea- green: if
not, she inclined to maize, and I to silver gray; and we discussed the requisite
number of breadths until we arrived at the shop-door. We were to buy the tea,
select the silk, and then clamber up the iron corkscrew stairs that led into
what was once a loft, though now a fashion show-room.
The young men at Mr Johnson's had on their best looks; and their best
cravats, and pivoted themselves over the counter with surprising activity. They
wanted to show us upstairs at once; but on the principle of business first and
pleasure afterwards, we stayed to purchase the tea. Here Miss Matty's absence of
mind betrayed itself. If she was made aware that she had been drinking green tea
at any time, she always thought it her duty to lie awake half through the night
afterward (I have known her take it in ignorance many a time without such
effects), and consequently green tea was prohibited the house; yet to-day she
herself asked for the obnoxious article, under the impression that she was
talking about the silk. However, the mistake was soon rectified; and then the
silks were unrolled in good truth. By this time the shop was pretty well filled,
for it was Cranford market-day, and many of the farmers and country people from
the neighbourhood round came in, sleeking down their hair, and glancing shyly
about, from under their eyelids, as anxious to take back some notion of the
unusual gaiety to the mistress or the lasses at home, and yet feeling that they
were out of place among the smart shopmen and gay shawls and summer prints. One
honest-looking man, however, made his way up to the counter at which we stood,
and boldly asked to look at a shawl or two. The other country folk confined
themselves to the grocery side; but our neighbour was evidently too full of some
kind intention towards mistress, wife or daughter, to be shy; and it soon became
a question with me, whether he or Miss Matty would keep their shopmen the
longest time. He thought each shawl more beautiful than the last; and, as for
Miss Matty, she smiled and sighed over each fresh bale that was brought out; one
colour set off another, and the heap together would, as she said, make even the
rainbow look poor.
"I am afraid," said she, hesitating, "Whichever I choose I shall wish I had
taken another. Look at this lovely crimson! it would be so warm in winter. But
spring is coming on, you know. I wish I could have a gown for every season,"
said she, dropping her voice - as we all did in Cranford whenever we talked of
anything we wished for but could not afford. "However," she continued in a
louder and more cheerful tone, "it would give me a great deal of trouble to take
care of them if I had them; so, I think, I'll only take one. But which must it
be, my dear?"
And now she hovered over a lilac with yellow spots, while I pulled out a
quiet sage-green that had faded into insignificance under the more brilliant
colours, but which was nevertheless a good silk in its humble way. Our attention
was called off to our neighbour. He had chosen a shawl of about thirty
shillings' value; and his face looked broadly happy, under the anticipation, no
doubt, of the pleasant surprise he would give to some Molly or Jenny at home; he
had tugged a leathern purse out of his breeches-pocket, and had offered a
five-pound note in payment for the shawl, and for some parcels which had been
brought round to him from the grocery counter; and it was just at this point
that he attracted our notice. The shopman was examining the note with a puzzled,
doubtful air.
"Town and County Bank! I am not sure, sir, but I believe we have received a
warning against notes issued by this bank only this morning. I will just step
and ask Mr Johnson, sir; but I'm afraid I must trouble you for payment in cash,
or in a note of a different bank."
I never saw a man's countenance fall so suddenly into dismay and
bewilderment. It was almost piteous to see the rapid change.
"Dang it!" said he, striking his fist down on the table, as if to try which
was the harder, "the chap talks as if notes and gold were to be had for the
picking up."
Miss Matty had forgotten her silk gown in her interest for the man. I don't
think she had caught the name of the bank, and in my nervous cowardice I was
anxious that she should not; and so I began admiring the yellow-spotted lilac
gown that I had been utterly condemning only a minute before. But it was of no
use.
"What bank was it? I mean, what bank did your note belong to?"
"Town and County Bank."
"Let me see it," said she quietly to the shopman, gently taking it out of his
hand, as he brought it back to return it to the farmer.
Mr Johnson was very sorry, but, from information he had received, the notes
issued by that bank were little better than waste paper.
"I don't understand it," said Miss Matty to me in a low voice. "That is our
bank, is it not? - the Town and County Bank?"
"Yes," said I. "This lilac silk will just match the ribbons in your new cap,
I believe," I continued, holding up the folds so as to catch the light, and
wishing that the man would make haste and be gone, and yet having a new wonder,
that had only just sprung up, how far it was wise or right in me to allow Miss
Matty to make this expensive purchase, if the affairs of the bank were really so
bad as the refusal of the note implied.
But Miss Matty put on the soft dignified manner, peculiar to her, rarely
used, and yet which became her so well, and laying her hand gently on mine, she
said -
"Never mind the silks for a few minutes, dear. I don't understand you, sir,"
turning now to the shopman, who had been attending to the farmer. "Is this a
forged note?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. It is a true note of its kind; but you see, ma'am, it is a
joint-stock bank, and there are reports out that it is likely to break. Mr
Johnson is only doing his duty, ma'am, as I am sure Mr Dobson knows."
But Mr Dobson could not respond to the appealing bow by any answering smile.
He was turning the note absently over in his fingers, looking gloomily enough at
the parcel containing the lately-chosen shawl.
"It's hard upon a poor man," said he, "as earns every farthing with the sweat
of his brow. However, there's no help for it. You must take back your shawl, my
man; Lizzle must go on with her cloak for a while. And yon figs for the little
ones - I promised them to 'em - I'll take them; but the 'bacco, and the other
things" -
"I will give you five sovereigns for your note, my good man," said Miss
Matty. "I think there is some great mistake about it, for I am one of the
shareholders, and I'm sure they would have told me if things had not been going
on right."
The shopman whispered a word or two across the table to Miss Matty. She
looked at him with a dubious air.
"Perhaps so," said she. "But I don't pretend to understand business; I only
know that if it is going to fail, and if honest people are to lose their money
because they have taken our notes - I can't explain myself," said she, suddenly
becoming aware that she had got into a long sentence with four people for
audience; "only I would rather exchange my gold for the note, if you please,"
turning to the farmer, "and then you can take your wife the shawl. It is only
going without my gown a few days longer," she continued, speaking to me. "Then,
I have no doubt, everything will be cleared up."
"But if it is cleared up the wrong way?" said I.
"Why, then it will only have been common honesty in me, as a shareholder, to
have given this good man the money. I am quite clear about it in my own mind;
but, you know, I can never speak quite as comprehensibly as others can, only you
must give me your note, Mr Dobson, if you please, and go on with your purchases
with these sovereigns."
The man looked at her with silent gratitude - too awkward to put his thanks
into words; but he hung back for a minute or two, fumbling with his note.
"I'm loth to make another one lose instead of me, if it is a loss; but, you
see, five pounds is a deal of money to a man with a family; and, as you say, ten
to one in a day or two the note will be as good as gold again."
"No hope of that, my friend," said the shopman.
"The more reason why I should take it," said Miss Matty quietly. She pushed
her sovereigns towards the man, who slowly laid his note down in exchange.
"Thank you. I will wait a day or two before I purchase any of these silks;
perhaps you will then have a greater choice. My dear, will you come upstairs?"
We inspected the fashions with as minute and curious an interest as if the
gown to be made after them had been bought. I could not see that the little
event in the shop below had in the least damped Miss Matty's curiosity as to the
make of sleeves or the sit of skirts. She once or twice exchanged
congratulations with me on our private and leisurely view of the bonnets and
shawls; but I was, all the time, not so sure that our examination was so utterly
private, for I caught glimpses of a figure dodging behind the cloaks and
mantles; and, by a dexterous move, I came face to face with Miss Pole, also in
morning costume (the principal feature of which was her being without teeth, and
wearing a veil to conceal the deficiency), come on the same errand as ourselves.
But she quickly took her departure, because, as she said, she had a bad
headache, and did not feel herself up to conversation.
As we came down through the shop, the civil Mr Johnson was awaiting us; he
had been informed of the exchange of the note for gold, and with much good
feeling and real kindness, but with a little want of tact, he wished to condole
with Miss Matty, and impress upon her the true state of the case. I could only
hope that he had heard an exaggerated rumour for he said that her shares were
worse than nothing, and that the bank could not pay a shilling in the pound. I
was glad that Miss Matty seemed still a little incredulous; but I could not tell
how much of this was real or assumed, with that self-control which seemed
habitual to ladies of Miss Matty's standing in Cranford, who would have thought
their dignity compromised by the slightest expression of surprise, dismay, or
any similar feeling to an inferior in station, or in a public shop. However, we
walked home very silently. I am ashamed to say, I believe I was rather vexed and
annoyed at Miss Matty's conduct in taking the note to herself so decidedly. I
had so set my heart upon her having a new silk gown, which she wanted sadly; in
general she was so undecided anybody might turn her round; in this case I had
felt that it was no use attempting it, but I was not the less put out at the
result.
Somehow, after twelve o'clock, we both acknowledged to a sated curiosity
about the fashions, and to a certain fatigue of body (which was, in fact,
depression of mind) that indisposed us to go out again. But still we never spoke
of the note; till, all at once, something possessed me to ask Miss Matty if she
would think it her duty to offer sovereigns for all the notes of the Town and
County Bank she met with? I could have bitten my tongue out the minute I had
said it. She looked up rather sadly, and as if I had thrown a new perplexity
into her already distressed mind; and for a minute or two she did not speak.
Then she said - my own dear Miss Matty - without a shade of reproach in her
voice -
"My dear, I never feel as if my mind was what people call very strong; and
it's often hard enough work for me to settle what I ought to do with the case
right before me. I was very thankful to - I was very thankful, that I saw my
duty this morning, with the poor man standing by me; but its rather a strain
upon me to keep thinking and thinking what I should do if such and such a thing
happened; and, I believe, I had rather wait and see what really does come; and I
don't doubt I shall be helped then if I don't fidget myself, and get too anxious
beforehand. You know, love, I'm not like Deborah. If Deborah had lived, I've no
doubt she would have seen after them, before they had got themselves into this
state."
We had neither of us much appetite for dinner, though we tried to talk
cheerfully about indifferent things. When we returned into the drawing-room,
Miss Matty unlocked her desk and began to look over her account-books. I was so
penitent for what I had said in the morning, that I did not choose to take upon
myself the presumption to suppose that I could assist her; I rather left her
alone, as, with puzzled brow, her eye followed her pen up and down the ruled
page. By-and-by she shut the book, locked the desk, and came and drew a chair to
mine, where I sat in moody sorrow over the fire. I stole my hand into hers; she
clasped it, but did not speak a word. At last she said, with forced composure in
her voice, "If that bank goes wrong, I shall lose one hundred and forty-nine
pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence a year; I shall only have thirteen
pounds a year left." I squeezed her hand hard and tight. I did not know what to
say. Presently (it was too dark to see her face) I felt her fingers work
convulsively in my grasp; and I knew she was going to speak again. I heard the
sobs in her voice as she said, "I hope it's not wrong - not wicked - but, oh! I
am so glad poor Deborah is spared this. She could not have borne to come down in
the world - she had such a noble, lofty spirit."
This was all she said about the sister who had insisted upon investing their
little property in that unlucky bank. We were later in lighting the candle than
usual that night, and until that light shamed us into speaking, we sat together
very silently and sadly.
However, we took to our work after tea with a kind of forced cheerfulness
(which soon became real as far as it went), talking of that never-ending wonder,
Lady Glenmire's engagement. Miss Matty was almost coming round to think it a
good thing.
"I don't mean to deny that men are troublesome in a house. I don't judge from
my own experience, for my father was neatness itself, and wiped his shoes on
coming in as carefully as any woman; but still a man has a sort of knowledge of
what should be done in difficulties, that it is very pleasant to have one at
hand ready to lean upon. Now, Lady Glenmire, instead of being tossed about, and
wondering where she is to settle, will be certain of a home among pleasant and
kind people, such as our good Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester. And Mr Hoggins is
really a very personable man; and as for his manners, why, if they are not very
polished, I have known people with very good hearts and very clever minds too,
who were not what some people reckoned refined, but who were both true and
tender."
She fell off into a soft reverie about Mr Holbrook, and I did not interrupt
her, I was so busy maturing a plan I had had in my mind for some days, but which
this threatened failure of the bank had brought to a crisis. That night, after
Miss Matty went to bed, I treacherously lighted the candle again, and sat down
in the drawing-room to compose a letter to the Aga Jenkyns, a letter which
should affect him if he were Peter, and yet seem a mere statement of dry facts
if he were a stranger. The church clock pealed out two before I had done.
The next morning news came, both official and otherwise, that the Town and
County Bank had stopped payment. Miss Matty was ruined.
She tried to speak quietly to me; but when she came to the actual fact that
she would have but about five shillings a week to live upon, she could not
restrain a few tears.
"I am not crying for myself, dear," said she, wiping them away; "I believe I
am crying for the very silly thought of how my mother would grieve if she could
know; she always cared for us so much more than for herself. But many a poor
person has less, and I am not very extravagant, and, thank God, when the neck of
mutton, and Martha's wages, and the rent are paid, I have not a farthing owing.
Poor Martha! I think she'll be sorry to leave me."
Miss Matty smiled at me through her tears, and she would fain have had me see
only the smile, not the tears.
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