"ElizabethGaskell-ThePoorClare" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gaskell Elizabeth C)

serving-man. A woman past middle age walked, with a firm and strong
step, by the cart that held much of the baggage; and high up on the
mails and boxes, sat a girl of dazzling beauty, perched lightly on
the topmost trunk, and swaying herself fearlessly to and fro, as the
cart rocked and shook in the heavy roads of late autumn. The girl
wore the Antwerp faille, or black Spanish mantle over her head, and
altogether her appearance was such that the old cottager, who
described the possession to me many years after, said that all the
country-folk took her for a foreigner. Some dogs, and the boy who
held them in charge, made up the company. They rode silently along,
looking with grave, serious eyes at the people, who came out of the
scattered cottages to bow or curtsy to the real Squire, "come back at
last," and gazed after the little procession with gaping wonder, not
deadened by the sound of the foreign language in which the few
necessary words that passed among them were spoken. One lad, called
from his staring by the Squire to come and help about the cart,
accompanied them to the Manor-house. He said that when the lady had
descended from her pillion, the middle-aged woman whom I have
described as walking while the others rode, stepped quickly forward,
and taking Madam Starkey (who was of a slight and delicate figure) in
her arms, she lifted her over the threshold, and set her down in her
husband's house, at the same time uttering a passionate and
outlandish blessing. The Squire stood by, smiling gravely at first;
but when the words of blessing were pronounced, he took off his fine
feathered hat, and bent his head. The girl with the black mantle
stepped onward into the shadow of the dark hall, and kissed the
lady's hand; and that was all the lad could tell to the group that
gathered round him on his return, eager to hear everything, and to
know how much the Squire had given him for his services.

From all I could gather, the Manor-house, at the time of the Squire's
return, was in the most dilapidated state. The stout gray walls
remained firm and entire; but the inner chambers had been used for
all kinds of purposes. The great withdrawing-room had been a barn;
the state tapestry-chamber had held wool, and so on. But, by-and-by,
they were cleared out; and if the Squire had no money to spend on new
furniture, he and his wife had the knack of making the best of the
old. He was no despicable joiner; she had a kind of grace in
whatever she did, and imparted an air of elegant picturesqueness to
whatever she touched. Besides, they had brought many rare things
from the Continent; perhaps I should rather say, things that were
rare in that part of England--carvings, and crosses, and beautiful
pictures. And then, again, wood was plentiful in the Trough of
Bolland, and great log-fires danced and glittered in all the dark,
old rooms, and gave a look of home and comfort to everything.

Why do I tell you all this? I have little to do with the Squire and
Madame Starkey; and yet I dwell upon them, as if I were unwilling to
come to the real people with whom my life was so strangely mixed up.
Madam had been nursed in Ireland by the very woman who lifted her in